Catharine uttered a suppressed exclamation; and, with difficulty
compelling herself to assume an appearance of composure, promised
her father that, if he would spare her any farther discussion of the
subject till tomorrow morning, she would then meet him, determined
to make a full discovery of her sentiments.

With this promise Simon Glover was obliged to remain contented,
though extremely anxious for the postponed explanation. It could
not be levity or fickleness of character which induced his daughter
to act with so much apparent inconsistency towards the man of his
choice, and whom she had so lately unequivocally owned to be also
the man of her own. What external force there could exist, of a
kind powerful enough to change the resolutions she had so decidedly
expressed within twenty-four hours, was a matter of complete mystery.

"But I will be as obstinate as she can be," thought the glover,
"and she shall either marry Henry Smith without farther delay or
old Simon Glover will know an excellent reason to the contrary."

The subject was not renewed during the evening; but early on the
next morning, just at sun rising, Catharine knelt before the bed in
which her parent still slumbered. Her heart sobbed as if it would
burst, and her tears fell thick upon her father's face. The good
old man awoke, looked up, crossed his child's forehead, and kissed
her affectionately.

"I understand thee, Kate," he said; "thou art come to confession,
and, I trust, art desirous to escape a heavy penance by being
sincere."

Catharine was silent for an instant.

"I need not ask, my father, if you remember the Carthusian monk,
Clement, and his preachings and lessons; at which indeed you
assisted so often, that you cannot be ignorant men called you one
of his converts, and with greater justice termed me so likewise?"

"I am aware of both," said the old man, raising himself on
his elbow; "but I defy foul fame to show that I ever owned him in
any heretical proposition, though I loved to hear him talk of the
corruptions of the church, the misgovernment of the nobles, and
the wild ignorance of the poor, proving, as it seemed to me, that
the sole virtue of our commonweal, its strength and its estimation,
lay among the burgher craft of the better class, which I received
as comfortable doctrine, and creditable to the town. And if he
preached other than right doctrine, wherefore did his superiors in
the Carthusian convent permit it? If the shepherds turn a wolf in
sheep's clothing into the flock, they should not blame the sheep
for being worried."

"They endured his preaching, nay, they encouraged it," said Catharine,
"while the vices of the laity, the contentions of the nobles, and
the oppression of the poor were the subject of his censure, and
they rejoiced in the crowds who, attracted to the Carthusian church,
forsook those of the other convents. But the hypocrites--for such
they are--joined with the other fraternities in accusing their
preacher Clement, when, passing from censuring the crimes of the
state, he began to display the pride, ignorance, and luxury of the
churchmen themselves--their thirst of power, their usurpation
over men's consciences, and their desire to augment their worldly
wealth."

"For God's sake, Catharine," said her father, "speak within doors:
your voice rises in tone and your speech in bitterness, your eyes
sparkle. It is owing to this zeal in what concerns you no more than
others that malicious persons fix upon you the odious and dangerous
name of a heretic."

"You know I speak no more than what is truth," said Catharine, "and
which you yourself have avouched often."

"By needle and buckskin, no!" answered the glover, hastily.
"Wouldst thou have me avouch what might cost me life and limb, land
and goods? For a full commission hath been granted for taking and
trying heretics, upon whom is laid the cause of all late tumults
and miscarriages; wherefore, few words are best, wench. I am ever
of mind with the old maker:

"Since word is thrall and thought is free,
Keep well thy tongue, I counsel thee."

"The counsel comes too late, father," answered Catharine, sinking
down on a chair by her father's bedside. "The words have been
spoken and heard; and it is indited against Simon Glover, burgess
in Perth, that he hath spoken irreverent discourses of the doctrines
of Holy Church."

"As I live by knife and needle," interrupted Simon, "it is a lie!
I never was so silly as to speak of what I understood not."

"And hath slandered the anointed of the church, both regular and
secular," continued Catharine.

"Nay, I will never deny the truth," said the glover: "an idle word
I may have spoken at the ale bench, or over a pottle pot of wine,
or in right sure company; but else, my tongue is not one to run my
head into peril."

"So you think, my dearest father; but your slightest language has
been espied, your best meaning phrases have been perverted, and
you are in dittay as a gross railer against church and churchmen,
and for holding discourse against them with loose and profligate
persons, such as the deceased Oliver Proudfute, the smith Henry
of the Wynd, and others, set forth as commending the doctrines of
Father Clement, whom they charge with seven rank heresies, and seek
for with staff and spear, to try him to the death. But that," said
Catharine, kneeling, and looking upwards with the aspect of one of
those beauteous saints whom the Catholics have given to the fine
arts--"that they shall never do. He hath escaped from the net of
the fowler; and, I thank Heaven, it was by my means."

"Thy means, girl--art thou mad?" said the amazed glover.

"I will not deny what I glory in," answered Catharine: "it was by
my means that Conachar was led to come hither with a party of men
and carry off the old man, who is now far beyond the Highland line."

"Thou my rash--my unlucky child!" said the glover, "hast dared to
aid the escape of one accused of heresy, and to invite Highlanders
in arms to interfere with the administration of justice within
burgh? Alas! thou hast offended both against the laws of the church
and those of the realm. What--what would become of us, were this
known?"

"It is known, my dear father," said the maiden, firmly--"known
even to those who will be the most willing avengers of the deed."

"This must be some idle notion, Catharine, or some trick of those
cogging priests and nuns; it accords not with thy late cheerful
willingness to wed Henry Smith."

"Alas! dearest father, remember the dismal surprise occasioned by
his reported death, and the joyful amazement at finding him alive;
and deem it not wonder if I permitted myself, under your protection,
to say more than my reflection justified. But then I knew not the
worst, and thought the danger exaggerated. Alas I was yesterday
fearfully undeceived, when the abbess herself came hither, and with
her the Dominican. They showed me the commission, under the broad
seal of Scotland, for inquiring into and punishing heresy; they
showed me your name and my own in a list of suspected persons; and
it was with tears--real tears, that the abbess conjured me to
avert a dreadful fate by a speedy retreat into the cloister, and
that the monk pledged his word that you should not be molested if
I complied."

"The foul fiend take them both for weeping crocodiles!" said the
glover.

"Alas!" replied Catharine, "complaint or anger will little help
us; but you see I have had real cause for this present alarm."

"Alarm! call it utter ruin. Alas! my reckless child, where was your
prudence when you ran headlong into such a snare?"

"Hear me, father," said Catharine; "there is still one mode of
safety held out: it is one which I have often proposed, and for
which I have in vain supplicated your permission."

"I understand you--the convent," said her father. "But, Catharine,
what abbess or prioress would dare--"

"That I will explain to you, father, and it will also show the
circumstances which have made me seem unsteady of resolution to a
degree which has brought censure upon me from yourself and others.
Our confessor, old Father Francis, whom I chose from the Dominican
convent at your command--"

"Ay, truly," interrupted the glover; "and I so counselled and
commanded thee, in order to take off the report that thy conscience
was altogether under the direction of Father Clement."

"Well, this Father Francis has at different times urged and provoked
me to converse on such matters as he judged I was likely to learn
something of from the Carthusian preacher. Heaven forgive me my
blindness! I fell into the snare, spoke freely, and, as he argued
gently, as one who would fain be convinced, I even spoke warmly
in defence of what I believed devoutly. The confessor assumed not
his real aspect and betrayed not his secret purpose until he had
learned all that I had to tell him. It was then that he threatened
me with temporal punishment and with eternal condemnation. Had
his threats reached me alone, I could have stood firm; for their
cruelty on earth I could have endured, and their power beyond this
life I have no belief in."

"For Heaven's sake!" said the glover, who was well nigh beside
himself at perceiving at every new word the increasing extremity
of his daughter's danger, "beware of blaspheming the Holy Church,
whose arms are as prompt to strike as her ears are sharp to hear."

"To me," said the Maid of Perth, again looking up, "the terrors
of the threatened denunciations would have been of little avail;
but when they spoke of involving thee, my father, in the charge
against me, I own I trembled, and desired to compromise. The Abbess
Martha, of Elcho nunnery, being my mother's kinswoman, I told her
my distresses, and obtained her promise that she would receive me,
if, renouncing worldly love and thoughts of wedlock, I would take
the veil in her sisterhood. She had conversation on the topic, I
doubt not, with the Dominican Francis, and both joined in singing
the same song.

"'Remain in the world,' said they, 'and thy father and thou shall
be brought to trial as heretics; assume the veil, and the errors
of both shall be forgiven and cancelled.' They spoke not even of
recantation of errors of doctrine: all should be peace if I would
but enter the convent."

"I doubt not--I doubt not," said Simon: "the old glover is thought
rich, and his wealth would follow his daughter to the convent of
Elcho, unless what the Dominicans might claim as their own share.
So this was thy call to the veil, these thy objections to Henry
Wynd?"

"Indeed, father, the course was urged on all hands, nor did my
own mind recoil from it. Sir John Ramorny threatened me with the
powerful vengeance of the young Prince, if I continued to repel his
wicked suit; and as for poor Henry, it is but of late that I have
discovered, to my own surprise--that--that I love his virtues
more than I dislike his faults. Alas! the discovery has only been
made to render my quitting the world more difficult than when I
thought I had thee only to regret."

She rested her head on her hand and wept bitterly.

"All this is folly," said the glover. "Never was there an extremity
so pinching, but what a wise man might find counsel if he was daring
enough to act upon it. This has never been the land or the people
over whom priests could rule in the name of Rome, without their
usurpation being controlled. If they are to punish each honest
burgher who says the monks love gold, and that the lives of some of
them cry shame upon the doctrines they teach, why, truly, Stephen
Smotherwell will not lack employment; and if all foolish maidens
are to be secluded from the world because they follow the erring
doctrines of a popular preaching friar, they must enlarge the
nunneries and receive their inmates on slighter composition. Our
privileges have been often defended against the Pope himself by
our good monarchs of yore, and when he pretended to interfere with
the temporal government of the kingdom, there wanted not a Scottish
Parliament who told him his duty in a letter that should have been
written in letters of gold. I have seen the epistle myself, and
though I could not read it, the very sight of the seals of the right
reverend prelates and noble and true barons which hung at it made
my heart leap for joy. Thou shouldst not have kept this secret,
my child--but it is no time to tax thee with thy fault. Go down,
get me some food. I will mount instantly, and go to our Lord Provost
and have his advice, and, as I trust, his protection and that of
other true hearted Scottish nobles, who will not see a true man
trodden down for an idle word."

"Alas! my father," said Catharine, "it was even this impetuosity
which I dreaded. I knew if I made my plaint to you there would soon
be fire and feud, as if religion, though sent to us by the Father
of peace, were fit only to be the mother of discord; and hence I
could now--even now--give up the world, and retire with my sorrow
among the sisters of Elcho, would you but let me be the sacrifice.
Only, father--comfort poor Henry when we are parted for ever;
and do not--do not let him think of me too harshly. Say Catharine
will never vex him more by her remonstrances, but that she will
never forget him in her prayers."

"The girl hath a tongue that would make a Saracen weep," said her
father, his own eyes sympathising with those of his daughter. "But
I will not yield way to this combination between the nun and the
priest to rob me of my only child. Away with you, girl, and let me
don my clothes; and prepare yourself to obey me in what I may have
to recommend for your safety. Get a few clothes together, and what
valuables thou hast; also, take the keys of my iron box, which
poor Henry Smith gave me, and divide what gold you find into two
portions; put the one into a purse for thyself, and the other into
the quilted girdle which I made on purpose to wear on journeys.
Thus both shall be provided, in case fate should sunder us; in
which event, God send the whirlwind may take the withered leaf and
spare the green one! Let them make ready my horse instantly, and
the white jennet that I bought for thee but a day since, hoping to
see thee ride to St. John's Kirk with maids and matrons, as blythe
a bride as ever crossed the holy threshold. But it skills not
talking. Away, and remember that the saints help those who are
willing to help themselves. Not a word in answer; begone, I say--
no wilfullness now. The pilot in calm weather will let a sea boy
trifle with the rudder; but, by my soul, when winds howl and waves
arise, he stands by the helm himself. Away--no reply."

Catharine left the room to execute, as well as she might, the
commands of her father, who, gentle in disposition and devotedly
attached to his child, suffered her often, as it seemed, to guide
and rule both herself and him; yet who, as she knew, was wont to
claim filial obedience and exercise parental authority with sufficient
strictness when the occasion seemed to require an enforcement of
domestic discipline.

While the fair Catharine was engaged in executing her father's
behests, and the good old glover was hastily attiring himself, as
one who was about to take a journey, a horse's tramp was heard in
the narrow street. The horseman was wrapped in his riding cloak,
having the cape of it drawn up, as if to hide the under part of
his face, while his bonnet was pulled over his brows, and a broad
plume obscured his upper features. He sprung from the saddle, and
Dorothy had scarce time to reply to his inquiries that the glover
was in his bedroom, ere the stranger had ascended the stair and
entered the sleeping apartment. Simon, astonished and alarmed, and
disposed to see in this early visitant an apparitor or sumner come
to attach him and his daughter, was much relieved when, as the
stranger doffed the bonnet and threw the skirt of the mantle from
his face, he recognised the knightly provost of the Fair City,
a visit from whom at any time was a favour of no ordinary degree,
but, being made at such an hour, had something marvellous, and,
connected with the circumstances of the times, even alarming.

"Sir Patrick Charteris!" said the glover. "This high honour done
to your poor beadsman--"

"Hush!" said the knight, "there is no time for idle civilities. I
came hither because a man is, in trying occasions, his own safest
page, and I can remain no longer than to bid thee fly, good glover,
since warrants are to be granted this day in council for the arrest
of thy daughter and thee, under charge of heresy; and delay will
cost you both your liberty for certain, and perhaps your lives."

"I have heard something of such a matter," said the glover, "and
was this instant setting forth to Kinfauns to plead my innocence
of this scandalous charge, to ask your lordship's counsel, and to
implore your protection."

"Thy innocence, friend Simon, will avail thee but little before
prejudiced judges; my advice is, in one word, to fly, and wait for
happier times. As for my protection, we must tarry till the tide
turns ere it will in any sort avail thee. But if thou canst lie
concealed for a few days or weeks, I have little doubt that the
churchmen, who, by siding with the Duke of Albany in court intrigue,
and by alleging the decay of the purity of Catholic doctrine as
the sole cause of the present national misfortunes, have, at least
for the present hour, an irresistible authority over the King, will
receive a check. In the mean while, however, know that King Robert
hath not only given way to this general warrant for inquisition
after heresy, but hath confirmed the Pope's nomination of Henry
Wardlaw to be Archbishop of St. Andrews and Primate of Scotland;
thus yielding to Rome those freedoms and immunities of the Scottish
Church which his ancestors, from the time of Malcolm Canmore, have
so boldly defended. His brave fathers would have rather subscribed
a covenant with the devil than yielded in such a matter to the
pretensions of Rome."

"Alas, and what remedy?"

"None, old man, save in some sudden court change," said Sir Patrick.
"The King is but like a mirror, which, having no light itself,
reflects back with equal readiness any which is placed near to it
for the time. Now, although the Douglas is banded with Albany, yet
the Earl is unfavourable to the high claims of those domineering
priests, having quarrelled with them about the exactions which his
retinue hath raised on the Abbot of Arbroath. He will come back
again with a high hand, for report says the Earl of March hath
fled before him. When he returns we shall have a changed world,
for his presence will control Albany; especially as many nobles,
and I myself, as I tell you in confidence, are resolved to league
with him to defend the general right. Thy exile, therefore, will
end with his return to our court. Thou hast but to seek thee some
temporary hiding place."

"For that, my lord," said the glover, "I can be at no loss, since
I have just title to the protection of the high Highland chief,
Gilchrist MacIan, chief of the Clan Quhele."

"Nay, if thou canst take hold of his mantle thou needs no help of
any one else: neither Lowland churchman nor layman finds a free
course of justice beyond the Highland frontier."

"But then my child, noble sir--my Catharine?" said the glover.

"Let her go with thee, man. The graddan cake will keep her white
teeth in order, the goat's whey will make the blood spring to her
cheek again, which these alarms have banished and even the Fair
Maiden of Perth may sleep soft enough on a bed of Highland breckan."

"It is not from such idle respects, my lord, that I hesitate,"
said the glover. "Catharine is the daughter of a plain burgher,
and knows not nicety of food or lodging. But the son of MacIan hath
been for many years a guest in my house, and I am obliged to say
that I have observed him looking at my daughter, who is as good as
a betrothed bride, in a manner that, though I cared not for it in
this lodging in Curfew Street, would give me some fear of consequences
in a Highland glen, where I have no friend and Conachar many."

The knightly provost replied by a long whistle. "Whew! whew! Nay,
in that case, I advise thee to send her to the nunnery at Elcho,
where the abbess, if I forget not, is some relation of yours.
Indeed, she said so herself, adding, that she loved her kinswoman
well, together with all that belongs to thee, Simon."

"Truly, my lord, I do believe that the abbess hath so much regard
for me, that she would willingly receive the trust of my daughter,
and my whole goods and gear, into her sisterhood. Marry, her
affection is something of a tenacious character, and would be loth
to unloose its hold, either upon the wench or her tocher."

"Whew--whew!" again whistled the Knight of Kinfauns; "by the
Thane's Cross, man, but this is an ill favoured pirn to wind: Yet
it shall never be said the fairest maid in the Fair City was cooped
up in a convent, like a kain hen in a cavey, and she about to be
married to the bold burgess Henry Wynd. That tale shall not be told
while I wear belt and spurs, and am called Provost of Perth."

"But what remede, my lord?" asked the glover.

"We must all take our share of the risk. Come, get you and your
daughter presently to horse. You shall ride with me, and we'll see
who dare gloom at you. The summons is not yet served on thee, and
if they send an apparitor to Kinfauns without a warrant under the
King's own hand, I make mine avow, by the Red Rover's soul! that
he shall eat his writ, both wax and wether skin. To horse--to
horse! and," addressing Catharine, as she entered at the moment,
"you too, my pretty maid--

"To horse, and fear not for your quarters;
They thrive in law that trust in Charters."

In a minute or two the father and daughter were on horseback, both
keeping an arrow's flight before the provost, by his direction,
that they might not seem to be of the same company. They passed the
eastern gate in some haste, and rode forward roundly until they
were out of sight. Sir Patrick followed leisurely; but, when he
was lost to the view of the warders, he spurred his mettled horse,
and soon came up with the glover and Catharine, when a conversation
ensued which throws light upon some previous passages of this
history.



CHAPTER XXVI.

Hail, land of bowmen! seed of those who scorn'd
To stoop the neck to wide imperial Rome--
Oh, dearest half of Albion sea walled!

Albania (1737).


"I have been devising a mode," said the well meaning provost, "by
which I may make you both secure for a week or two from the malice
of your enemies, when I have little doubt I may see a changed world
at court. But that I may the better judge what is to be done, tell
me frankly, Simon, the nature of your connexion with Gilchrist
MacIan, which leads you to repose such implicit confidence in him.
You are a close observer of the rules of the city, and are aware
of the severe penalties which they denounce against such burghers
as have covine and alliance with the Highland clans."

"True, my lord; but it is also known to you that our craft, working
in skins of cattle, stags, and every other description of hides,
have a privilege, and are allowed to transact with those Highlanders,
as with the men who can most readily supply us with the means of
conducting our trade, to the great profit of the burgh. Thus it
hath chanced with me to have great dealings with these men; and I
can take it on my salvation, that you nowhere find more just and
honourable traffickers, or by whom a man may more easily make an
honest penny. I have made in my day several distant journeys into
the far Highlands, upon the faith of their chiefs; nor did I ever
meet with a people more true to their word, when you can once prevail
upon them to plight it in your behalf. And as for the Highland
chief, Gilchrist MacIan, saving that he is hasty in homicide and
fire raising towards those with whom he hath deadly feud, I have
nowhere seen a man who walketh a more just and upright path."

"It is more than ever I heard before," said Sir Patrick Charteris.
"Yet I have known something of the Highland runagates too."

"They show another favour, and a very different one, to their
friends than to their enemies, as your lordship shall understand,"
said the glover. "However, be that as it may, it chanced me to
serve Gilchrist MacIan in a high matter. It is now about eighteen
years since, that it chanced, the Clan Quhele and Clan Chattan being
at feud, as indeed they are seldom at peace, the former sustained
such a defeat as well nigh extirpated the family of their chief
MacIan. Seven of his sons were slain in battle and after it, himself
put to flight, and his castle taken and given to the flames. His
wife, then near the time of giving birth to an infant, fled into
the forest, attended by one faithful servant and his daughter.
Here, in sorrow and care enough, she gave birth to a boy; and as
the misery of the mother's condition rendered her little able to
suckle the infant, he was nursed with the milk of a doe, which the
forester who attended her contrived to take alive in a snare. It
was not many months afterwards that, in a second encounter of these
fierce clans, MacIan defeated his enemies in his turn, and regained
possession of the district which he had lost. It was with unexpected
rapture that he found his wife and child were in existence, having
never expected to see more of them than the bleached bones, from
which the wolves and wildcats had eaten the flesh.

"But a strong and prevailing prejudice, such as is often entertained
by these wild people, prevented their chief from enjoying the full
happiness arising from having thus regained his only son in safety.
An ancient prophecy was current among them, that the power of the
tribe should fall by means of a boy born under a bush of holly
and suckled by a white doe. The circumstance, unfortunately for
the chief, tallied exactly with the birth of the only child which
remained to him, and it was demanded of him by the elders of
the clan, that the boy should be either put to death or at least
removed from the dominions of the tribe and brought up in obscurity.
Gilchrist MacIan was obliged to consent and having made choice of
the latter proposal, the child, under the name of Conachar, was
brought up in my family, with the purpose, as was at first intended,
of concealing from him all knowledge who or what he was, or of his
pretensions to authority over a numerous and warlike people. But,
as years rolled on, the elders of the tribe, who had exerted so
much authority, were removed by death, or rendered incapable of
interfering in the public affairs by age; while, on the other hand,
the influence of Gilchrist MacIan was increased by his successful
struggles against the Clan Chattan, in which he restored the equality
betwixt the two contending confederacies, which had existed before
the calamitous defeat of which I told your honour. Feeling himself
thus firmly seated, he naturally became desirous to bring home his
only son to his bosom and family; and for that purpose caused me
to send the young Conachar, as he was called, more than once to the
Highlands. He was a youth expressly made, by his form and gallantry
of bearing, to gain a father's heart. At length, I suppose the
lad either guessed the secret of his birth or something of it was
communicated to him; and the disgust which the paughty Hieland
varlet had always shown for my honest trade became more manifest;
so that I dared not so much as lay my staff over his costard, for
fear of receiving a stab with a dirk, as an answer in Gaelic to a
Saxon remark. It was then that I wished to be well rid of him, the
rather that he showed so much devotion to Catharine, who, forsooth,
set herself up to wash the Ethiopian, and teach a wild Hielandmnan
mercy and morals. She knows herself how it ended."

"Nay, my father," said Catharine, "it was surely but a point of
charity to snatch the brand from the burning."

"But a small point of wisdom," said her father, "to risk the
burning of your own fingers for such an end. What says my lord to
the matter?"

"My lord would not offend the Fair Maid of Perth," said Sir Patrick;
"and he knows well the purity and truth of her mind. And yet I
must needs say that, had this nursling of the doe been shrivelled,
haggard, cross made, and red haired, like some Highlanders I have
known, I question if the Fair Maiden of Perth would have bestowed
so much zeal upon his conversion; and if Catharine had been as aged,
wrinkled, and bent by years as the old woman that opened the door
for me this morning, I would wager my gold spurs against a pair of
Highland brogues that this wild roebuck would never have listened
to a second lecture. You laugh, glover, and Catharine blushes a
blush of anger. Let it pass, it is the way of the world."

"The way in which the men of the world esteem their neighbours, my
lord," answered Catharine, with some spirit.

"Nay, fair saint, forgive a jest," said the knight; "and thou,
Simon, tell us how this tale ended--with Conachar's escape to
the Highlands, I suppose?"

"With his return thither," said the glover. "There was, for some
two or three years, a fellow about Perth, a sort of messenger, who
came and went under divers pretences, but was, in fact, the means
of communication between Gilchrist MacIan and his son, young Conachar,
or, as he is now called, Hector. From this gillie I learned, in
general, that the banishment of the dault an neigh dheil, or foster
child of the white doe, was again brought under consideration of
the tribe. His foster father, Torquil of the Oak, the old forester,
appeared with eight sons, the finest men of the clan, and demanded
that the doom of banishment should be revoked. He spoke with the
greater authority, as he was himself taishatar, or a seer, and
supposed to have communication with the invisible world. He affirmed
that he had performed a magical ceremony, termed tine egan, by
which he evoked a fiend, from whom he extorted a confession that
Conachar, now called Eachin, or Hector, MacIan, was the only man
in the approaching combat between the two hostile clans who should
come off without blood or blemish. Hence Torquil of the Oak argued
that the presence of the fated person was necessary to ensure the
victory. 'So much I am possessed of this,' said the forester, 'that,
unless Eachin fight in his place in the ranks of the Clan Quhele,
neither I, his foster father, nor any of my eight sons will lift
a weapon in the quarrel.'

"This speech was received with much alarm; for the defection of
nine men, the stoutest of their tribe, would be a serious blow,
more especially if the combat, as begins to be rumoured, should be
decided by a small number from each side. The ancient superstition
concerning the foster son of the white doe was counterbalanced by
a new and later prejudice, and the father took the opportunity of
presenting to the clan his long hidden son, whose youthful, but
handsome and animated, countenance, haughty carriage, and active
limbs excited the admiration of the clansmen, who joyfully received
him as the heir and descendant of their chief, notwithstanding the
ominous presage attending his birth and nurture.

"From this tale, my lord," continued Simon Glover, "your lordship
may easily conceive why I myself should be secure of a good reception
among the Clan Quhele; and you may also have reason to judge that
it would be very rash in me to carry Catharine thither. And this,
noble lord, is the heaviest of my troubles."

"We shall lighten the load, then," said Sir Patrick; "and, good
glover, I will take risk for thee and this damsel. My alliance
with the Douglas gives me some interest with Marjory, Duchess of
Rothsay, his daughter, the neglected wife of our wilful Prince.
Rely on it, good glover, that in her retinue thy daughter will be
as secure as in a fenced castle. The Duchess keeps house now at
Falkland, a castle which the Duke of Albany, to whom it belongs, has
lent to her for her accommodation. I cannot promise you pleasure,
Fair Maiden; for the Duchess Marjory of Rothsay is unfortunate,
and therefore splenetic, haughty, and overbearing; conscious of
the want of attractive qualities, therefore jealous of those women
who possess them. But she is firm in faith and noble in spirit, and
would fling Pope or prelate into the ditch of her castle who should
come to arrest any one under her protection. You will therefore
have absolute safety, though you may lack comfort."

"I have no title to more," said Catharine; "and deeply do I feel the
kindness that is willing to secure me such honourable protection.
If she be haughty, I will remember she is a Douglas, and hath right,
as being such, to entertain as much pride as may become a mortal;
if she be fretful, I will recollect that she is unfortunate, and
if she be unreasonably captious, I will not forget that she is my
protectress. Heed no longer for me, my lord, when you have placed
me under the noble lady's charge. But my poor father, to be exposed
amongst these wild and dangerous people!"

"Think not of that, Catharine," said the glover: "I am as familiar
with brogues and bracken as if I had worn them myself. I have only
to fear that the decisive battle may be fought before I can leave
this country; and if the clan Quhele lose the combat, I may suffer
by the ruin of my protectors."

"We must have that cared for," said Sir Patrick: "rely on my
looking out for your safety. But which party will carry the day,
think you?"

"Frankly, my Lord Provost, I believe the Clan Chattan will have
the worse: these nine children of the forest form a third nearly
of the band surrounding the chief of Clan Quhele, and are redoubted
champions."

"And your apprentice, will he stand to it, thinkest thou?"

"He is hot as fire, Sir Patrick," answered the glover; "but he is
also unstable as water. Nevertheless, if he is spared, he seems
likely to be one day a brave man."

"But, as now, he has some of the white doe's milk still lurking
about his liver, ha, Simon?"

"He has little experience, my lord," said the glover, "and I need
not tell an honoured warrior like yourself that danger must be
familiar to us ere we can dally with it like a mistress."

This conversation brought them speedily to the Castle of Kinfauns,
where, after a short refreshment, it was necessary that the father
and the daughter should part, in order to seek their respective
places of refuge. It was then first, as she saw that her father's
anxiety on her account had drowned all recollections of his friend,
that Catharine dropped, as if in a dream, the name of "Henry Gow."

"True--most true," continued her father; "we must possess him of
our purposes."

"Leave that to me," said Sir Patrick. "I will not trust to a
messenger, nor will I send a letter, because, if I could write one,
I think he could not read it. He will suffer anxiety in the mean
while, but I will ride to Perth tomorrow by times and acquaint him
with your designs."

The time of separation now approached. It was a bitter moment, but
the manly character of the old burgher, and the devout resignation
of Catharine to the will of Providence made it lighter than might
have been expected. The good knight hurried the departure of the
burgess, but in the kindest manner; and even went so far as to
offer him some gold pieces in loan, which might, where specie was
so scarce, be considered as the ne plus ultra of regard. The glover,
however, assured him he was amply provided, and departed on his
journey in a northwesterly direction. The hospitable protection
of Sir Patrick Charteris was no less manifested towards his fair
guest. She was placed under the charge of a duenna who managed the
good knight's household, and was compelled to remain several days
in Kinfauns, owing to the obstacles and delays interposed by a Tay
boatman, named Kitt Henshaw, to whose charge she was to be committed,
and whom the provost highly trusted.

Thus were severed the child and parent in a moment of great danger
and difficulty, much augmented by circumstances of which they were
then ignorant, and which seemed greatly to diminish any chance of
safety that remained for them.



CHAPTER XXVII.

"This Austin humbly did."  "Did he?" quoth he.
"Austin may do the same again for me."

Pope's Prologue to Canterbury Tales from Chaucer.


The course of our story will be best pursued by attending that of
Simon Glover. It is not our purpose to indicate the exact local
boundaries of the two contending clans, especially since they are
not clearly pointed out by the historians who have transmitted
accounts of this memorable feud. It is sufficient to say, that the
territory of the Clan Chattan extended far and wide, comprehending
Caithness and Sutherland, and having for their paramount chief the
powerful earl of the latter shire, thence called Mohr ar Chat. In
this general sense, the Keiths, the Sinclairs, the Guns, and other
families and clans of great power, were included in the confederacy.
These, however, were not engaged in the present quarrel, which was
limited to that part of the Clan Chattan occupying the extensive
mountainous districts of Perthshire and Inverness shire, which form
a large portion of what is called the northeastern Highlands. It
is well known that two large septs, unquestionably known to belong
to the Clan Chattan, the MacPhersons and the MacIntoshes, dispute
to this day which of their chieftains was at the head of this
Badenoch branch of the great confederacy, and both have of later
times assumed the title of Captain of Clan Chattan. Non nostrum
est. But, at all events, Badenoch must have been the centre of the
confederacy, so far as involved in the feud of which we treat.

Of the rival league of Clan Quhele we have a still less distinct
account, for reasons which will appear in the sequel. Some authors
have identified them with the numerous and powerful sept of MacKay.
If this is done on good authority, which is to be doubted, the
MacKays must have shifted their settlements greatly since the reign
of Robert III, since they are now to be found (as a clan) in the
extreme northern parts of Scotland, in the counties of Ross and
Sutherland. We cannot, therefore, be so clear as we would wish in
the geography of the story. Suffice it that, directing his course
in a northwesterly direction, the glover travelled for a day's
journey in the direction of the Breadalbane country, from which he
hoped to reach the castle where Gilchrist MacIan, the captain of
the Clan Quhele, and the father of his pupil Conachar, usually held
his residence, with a barbarous pomp of attendance and ceremonial
suited to his lofty pretensions.

We need not stop to describe the toil and terrors of such a journey,
where the path was to be traced among wastes and mountains, now
ascending precipitous ravines, now plunging into inextricable bogs,
and often intersected with large brooks, and even rivers. But all
these perils Simon Glover had before encountered in quest of honest
gain; and it was not to be supposed that he shunned or feared them
where liberty, and life itself, were at stake.

The danger from the warlike and uncivilised inhabitants of these
wilds would have appeared to another at least as formidable as the
perils of the journey. But Simon's knowledge of the manners and
language of the people assured him on this point also. An appeal
to the hospitality of the wildest Gael was never unsuccessful; and
the kerne, that in other circumstances would have taken a man's
life for the silver button of his cloak, would deprive himself of
a meal to relieve the traveller who implored hospitality at the
door of his bothy. The art of travelling in the Highlands was to
appear as confident and defenceless as possible; and accordingly
the glover carried no arms whatever, journeyed without the least
appearance of precaution, and took good care to exhibit nothing which
might excite cupidity. Another rule which he deemed it prudent to
observe was to avoid communication with any of the passengers whom
he might chance to meet, except in the interchange of the common
civilities of salutation, which the Highlanders rarely omit. Few
opportunities occurred of exchanging even such passing greetings.
The country, always lonely, seemed now entirely forsaken; and, even
in the little straths or valleys which he had occasion to pass
or traverse, the hamlets were deserted, and the inhabitants had
betaken themselves to woods and caves. This was easily accounted
for, considering the imminent dangers of a feud which all expected
would become one of the most general signals for plunder and ravage
that had ever distracted that unhappy country.

Simon began to be alarmed at this state of desolation. He had made
a halt since he left Kinfauns, to allow his nag some rest; and now
he began to be anxious how he was to pass the night. He had reckoned
upon spending it at the cottage of an old acquaintance, called Niel
Booshalloch (or the cow herd), because he had charge of numerous
herds of cattle belonging to the captain of Clan Quhele, for which
purpose he had a settlement on the banks of the Tay, not far from
the spot where it leaves the lake of the same name. From this his
old host and friend, with whom he had transacted many bargains for
hides and furs, the old glover hoped to learn the present state of
the country, the prospect of peace or war, and the best measures
to be taken for his own safety. It will be remembered that the
news of the indentures of battle entered into for diminishing the
extent of the feud had only been communicated to King Robert the
day before the glover left Perth, and did not become public till
some time afterwards.

"If Niel Booshalloch hath left his dwelling like the rest of them,
I shall be finely holped up," thought Simon, "since I want not
only the advantage of his good advice, but also his interest with
Gilchrist MacIan; and, moreover, a night's quarters and a supper."

Thus reflecting, he reached the top of a swelling green hill, and
saw the splendid vision of Loch Tay lying beneath him--an immense
plate of polished silver, its dark heathy mountains and leafless
thickets of oak serving as an arabesque frame to a magnificent
mirror.

Indifferent to natural beauty at any time, Simon Glover was now
particularly so; and the only part of the splendid landscape on
which he turned his eye was an angle or loop of meadow land where
the river Tay, rushing in full swoln dignity from its parent lake,
and wheeling around a beautiful valley of about a mile in breadth,
begins his broad course to the southeastward, like a conqueror and
a legislator, to subdue and to enrich remote districts. Upon the
sequestered spot, which is so beautifully situated between lake,
mountain, and river, arose afterwards the feudal castle of the
Ballough [Balloch is Gaelic for the discharge of a lake into a
river], which in our time has been succeeded by the splendid palace
of the Earls of Breadalbane.

But the Campbells, though they had already attained very great power
in Argyleshire, had not yet extended themselves so far eastward
as Loch Tay, the banks of which were, either by right or by mere
occupancy, possessed for, the present by the Clan Quhele, whose
choicest herds were fattened on the Balloch margin of the lake.
In this valley, therefore, between the river and the lake, amid
extensive forests of oak wood, hazel, rowan tree, and larches,
arose the humble cottage of Niel Booshalloch, a village Eumaeus,
whose hospitable chimneys were seen to smoke plentifully, to
the great encouragement of Simon Glover, who might otherwise have
been obliged to spend the night in the open air, to his no small
discomfort.

He reached the door of the cottage, whistled, shouted, and made
his approach known. There was a baying of hounds and collies, and
presently the master of the hut came forth. There was much care
on his brow, and he seemed surprised at the sight of Simon Glover,
though the herdsman covered both as well as he might; for nothing
in that region could be reckoned more uncivil than for the landlord
to suffer anything to escape him in look or gesture which might
induce the visitor to think that his arrival was an unpleasing, or
even an unexpected, incident. The traveller's horse was conducted to
a stable, which was almost too low to receive him, and the glover
himself was led into the mansion of the Booshalloch, where, according
to the custom of the country, bread and cheese was placed before
the wayfarer, while more solid food was preparing. Simon, who
understood all their habits, took no notice of the obvious marks of
sadness on the brow of his entertainer and on those of the family,
until he had eaten somewhat for form's sake, after which he asked
the general question, "Was there any news in the country?"

"Bad news as ever were told," said the herdsman: "our father is no
more."

"How!" said Simon, greatly alarmed, "is the captain of the Clan
Quhele dead?"

"The captain of the Clan Quhele never dies," answered the Booshalloch;
"but Gilchrist MacIan died twenty hours since, and his son, Eachin
MacIan, is now captain."

"What, Eachin--that is Conachar--my apprentice?"

"As little of that subject as you list, brother Simon," said the
herdsman. "It is to be remembered, friend, that your craft, which
doth very well for a living in the douce city of Perth, is something
too mechanical to be much esteemed at the foot of Ben Lawers and
on the banks of Loch Tay. We have not a Gaelic word by which we
can even name a maker of gloves."

"It would be strange if you had, friend Niel," said Simon, drily,
"having so few gloves to wear. I think there be none in the whole
Clan Quhele, save those which I myself gave to Gilchrist MacIan,
whom God assoilzie, who esteemed them a choice propine. Most deeply
do I regret his death, for I was coming to him on express business."

"You had better turn the nag's head southward with morning light,"
said the herdsman. "The funeral is instantly to take place, and it
must be with short ceremony; for there is a battle to be fought by
the Clan Quhele and the Clan Chattan, thirty champions on a side,
as soon as Palm Sunday next, and we have brief time either to lament
the dead or honour the living."

"Yet are my affairs so pressing, that I must needs see the young
chief, were it but for a quarter of an hour," said the glover.

"Hark thee, friend," replied his host, "I think thy business must
be either to gather money or to make traffic. Now, if the chief
owe thee anything for upbringing or otherwise, ask him not to pay
it when all the treasures of the tribe are called in for making
gallant preparation of arms and equipment for their combatants, that
we may meet these proud hill cats in a fashion to show ourselves
their superiors. But if thou comest to practise commerce with us,
thy time is still worse chosen. Thou knowest that thou art already
envied of many of our tribe, for having had the fosterage of the
young chief, which is a thing usually given to the best of the
clan."'

"But, St. Mary, man!" exclaimed the glover, "men should remember
the office was not conferred on me as a favour which I courted,
but that it was accepted by me on importunity and entreaty, to my
no small prejudice. This Conachar, or Hector, of yours, or whatever
you call him, has destroyed me doe skins to the amount of many
pounds Scots."

"There again, now," said the Booshalloch, "you have spoken word to
cost your life--any allusion to skins or hides, or especially to
deer and does--may incur no less a forfeit. The chief is young,
and jealous of his rank; none knows the reason better than thou,
friend Glover. He will naturally wish that everything concerning
the opposition to his succession, and having reference to his exile,
should be totally forgotten; and he will not hold him in affection
who shall recall the recollection of his people, or force back his
own, upon what they must both remember with pain. Think how, at
such a moment, they will look on the old glover of Perth, to whom
the chief was so long apprentice! Come--come, old friend, you have
erred in this. You are in over great haste to worship the rising
sun, while his beams are yet level with the horizon. Come thou
when he has climbed higher in the heavens, and thou shalt have thy
share of the warmth of his noonday height."

"Niel Booshalloch," said the glover, "we have been old friends, as
thou say'st; and as I think thee a true one, I will speak to thee
freely, though what I say might be perilous if spoken to others
of thy clan. Thou think'st I come hither to make my own profit of
thy young chief, and it is natural thou shouldst think so. But I
would not, at my years, quit my own chimney corner in Curfew Street
to bask me in the beams of the brightest sun that ever shone upon
Highland heather. The very truth is, I come hither in extremity:
my foes have the advantage of me, and have laid things to my charge
whereof I am incapable, even in thought. Nevertheless, doom is like
to go forth against me, and there is no remedy but that I must up
and fly, or remain and perish. I come to your young chief, as one
who had refuge with me in his distress--who ate of my bread and
drank of my cup. I ask of him refuge, which, as I trust, I shall
need but a short time."

"That makes a different case," replied the herdsman. "So different,
that, if you came at midnight to the gate of MacIan, having the
King of Scotland's head in your hand, and a thousand men in pursuit
for the avenging of his blood, I could not think it for his honour
to refuse you protection. And for your innocence or guilt, it
concerns not the case; or rather, he ought the more to shelter you
if guilty, seeing your necessity and his risk are both in that case
the greater. I must straightway to him, that no hasty tongue tell
him of your arriving hither without saying the cause."

"A pity of your trouble," said the glover; "but where lies the
chief?"