by Walter Scott
CHAPTER XXIII.
My maid--my blue-eyed maid, he bore away, Due to the toils of many a bloody day.--ILLIAD.
It was necessary, for many reasons, that Angus M'Aulay, so long the kindprotector of Annot Lyle, should be made acquainted with the change inthe fortunes of his late protege; and Montrose, as he had undertaken,communicated to him these remarkable events. With the careless andcheerful indifference of his character, he expressed much more joy thanwonder at Annot's good fortune; had no doubt whatever she would meritit, and as she had always been bred in loyal principles, would conveythe whole estate of her grim fanatical father to some honest fellow wholoved the king. "I should have no objection that my brother Allan shouldtry his chance," added he, "notwithstanding that Sir Duncan Campbell wasthe only man who ever charged Darnlinvarach with inhospitality. AnnotLyle could always charm Allan out of the sullens, and who knows whethermatrimony might not make him more a man of this world?" Montrosehastened to interrupt the progress of his castle-building, by informinghim that the lady was already wooed and won, and, with her father'sapprobation, was almost immediately to be wedded to his kinsman, theEarl of Menteith; and that in testimony of the high respect due toM'Aulay, so long the lady's protector, he was now to request hispresence at the ceremony. M'Aulay looked very grave at this intimation,and drew up his person with the air of one who thought that he had beenneglected.
"He contrived," he said, "that his uniform kind treatment of the younglady, while so many years under his roof, required something more uponsuch an occasion than a bare compliment of ceremony. He might," hethought, "without arrogance, have expected to have been consulted. Hewished his kinsman of Menteith well, no man could wish him better;but he must say he thought he had been hasty in this matter. Allan'ssentiments towards the young lady had been pretty well understood, andhe, for one, could not see why the superior pretensions which hehad upon her gratitude should have been set aside, without at leastundergoing some previous discussion."
Montrose, seeing too well where all this pointed, entreated M'Aulayto be reasonable, and to consider what probability there was that theKnight of Ardenvohr could be brought to confer the hand of his soleheiress upon Allan, whose undeniable excellent qualities were mingledwith others, by which they were overclouded in a manner that made alltremble who approached him.
"My lord," said Angus M'Aulay, "my brother Allan has, as God made usall, faults as well as merits; but he is the best and bravest man ofyour army, be the other who he may, and therefore ill deserved that hishappiness should have been so little consulted by your Excellency--byhis own near kinsman--and by a young person who owes all to him and tohis family."
Montrose in vain endeavoured to place the subject in a different view;this was the point in which Angus was determined to regard it, and hewas a man of that calibre of understanding, who is incapable of beingconvinced when he has once adopted a prejudice. Montrose now assumeda higher tone, and called upon Angus to take care how he nourishedany sentiments which might be prejudicial to his Majesty's service. Hepointed out to him, that he was peculiarly desirous that Allan's effortsshould not be interrupted in the course of his present mission; "amission," he said, "highly honourable for himself, and likely to provemost advantageous to the King's cause. He expected his brother wouldhold no communication with him upon other subjects, nor stir up anycause of dissension, which might divert his mind from a matter of suchimportance."
Angus answered somewhat sulkily, that "he was no makebate, or stirrer-upof quarrels; he would rather be a peacemaker. His brother knew as wellas most men how to resent his own quarrels--as for Allan's mode ofreceiving information, it was generally believed he had other sourcesthan those of ordinary couriers. He should not be surprised if they sawhim sooner than they expected."
A promise that he would not interfere, was the farthest to whichMontrose could bring this man, thoroughly good-tempered as he was on alloccasions, save when his pride, interest, or prejudices, were interferedwith. And at this point the Marquis was fain to leave the matter for thepresent.
A more willing guest at the bridal ceremony, certainly a more willingattendant at the marriage feast, was to be expected in Sir DugaldDalgetty, whom Montrose resolved to invite, as having been a confidantto the circumstances which preceded it. But even Sir Dugald hesitated,looked on the elbows of his doublet, and the knees of his leatherbreeches, and mumbled out a sort of reluctant acquiescence in theinvitation, providing he should find it possible, after consulting withthe noble bridegroom. Montrose was somewhat surprised, but scorning totestify displeasure, he left Sir Dugald to pursue his own course.
This carried him instantly to the chamber of the bride-groom, who,amidst the scanty wardrobe which his camp-equipage afforded, wasseeking for such articles as might appear to the best advantage upon theapproaching occasion. Sir Dugald entered, and paid his compliments, witha very grave face, upon his approaching happiness, which, he said, "hewas very sorry he was prevented from witnessing."
"In plain truth," said he, "I should but disgrace the ceremony, seeingthat I lack a bridal garment. Rents, and open seams, and tattersat elbows in the apparel of the assistants, might presage a similarsolution of continuity in your matrimonial happiness--and to say truth,my lord, you yourself must partly have the blame of this disappointment,in respect you sent me upon a fool's errand to get a buff-coat out ofthe booty taken by the Camerons, whereas you might as well have sent meto fetch a pound of fresh butter out of a black dog's throat. I had noanswer, my lord, but brandished dirks and broadswords, and a sort ofgrowling and jabbering in what they call their language. For my part, Ibelieve these Highlanders to be no better than absolute pagans, and havebeen much scandalized by the manner in which my acquaintance, RanaldMacEagh, was pleased to beat his final march, a little while since."
In Menteith's state of mind, disposed to be pleased with everything,and everybody, the grave complaint of Sir Dugald furnished additionalamusement. He requested his acceptance of a very handsome buff-dresswhich was lying on the floor. "I had intended it," he said, "for my ownbridal-garment, as being the least formidable of my warlike equipments,and I have here no peaceful dress."
Sir Dugald made the necessary apologies--would not by any meansdeprive--and so forth, until it happily occurred to him that it was muchmore according to military rule that the Earl should be married in hisback and breast pieces, which dress he had seen the bridegroom wear atthe union of Prince Leo of Wittlesbach with the youngest daughter of oldGeorge Frederick, of Saxony, under the auspices of the gallant GustavusAdolphus, the Lion of the North, and so forth. The good-natured youngEarl laughed, and acquiesced; and thus having secured at least one merryface at his bridal, he put on a light and ornamented cuirass, concealedpartly by a velvet coat, and partly by a broad blue silk scarf, whichhe wore over his shoulder, agreeably to his rank, and the fashion of thetimes.
Everything was now arranged; and it had been settled that, accordingto the custom of the country, the bride and bridegroom should not againmeet until they were before the altar. The hour had already struck thatsummoned the bridegroom thither, and he only waited in a small anteroomadjacent to the chapel, for the Marquis, who condescended to act asbride's-man upon the occasion. Business relating to the army havingsuddenly required the Marquis's instant attention, Menteith waited hisreturn, it may be supposed, in some impatience; and when he heardthe door of the apartment open, he said, laughing, "You are late uponparade."
"You will find I am too early," said Allan M'Aulay, who burst into theapartment. "Draw, Menteith, and defend yourself like a man, or die likea dog!"
"You are mad, Allan!" answered Menteith, astonished alike at his suddenappearance, and at the unutterable fury of his demeanour. His cheekswere livid--his eyes started from their sockets--his lips were coveredwith foam, and his gestures were those of a demoniac.
"You lie, traitor!" was his frantic reply--"you lie in that, as you liein all you have said to me. Your life is a lie!"
"Did I not speak my
thoughts when I called you mad," said Menteith,indignantly, "your own life were a brief one. In what do you charge mewith deceiving you?"
"You told me," answered M'Aulay, "that you would not marry AnnotLyle!--False traitor!--she now waits you at the altar."
"It is you who speak false," retorted Menteith. "I told you theobscurity of her birth was the only bar to our union--that is nowremoved; and whom do you think yourself, that I should yield up mypretensions in your favour?"
"Draw then," said M'Aulay; "we understand each other."
"Not now," said Menteith, "and not here. Allan, you know me well--waittill to-morrow, and you shall have fighting enough."
"This hour--this instant--or never," answered M'Aulay.
"Your triumph shall not go farther than the hour which is stricken.Menteith, I entreat you by our relationship--by our joint conflicts andlabours--draw your sword, and defend your life!" As he spoke, he seizedthe Earl's hand, and wrung it with such frantic earnestness, that hisgrasp forced the blood to start under the nails. Menteith threw him offwith violence, exclaiming, "Begone, madman!"
"Then, be the vision accomplished!" said Allan; and, drawing his dirk,struck with his whole gigantic force at the Earl's bosom. The temper ofthe corslet threw the point of the weapon upwards, but a deep woundtook place between the neck and shoulder; and the force of the blowprostrated the bridegroom on the floor. Montrose entered at one side ofthe anteroom. The bridal company, alarmed at the noise, were in equalapprehension and surprise; but ere Montrose could almost see what hadhappened, Allan M'Aulay had rushed past him, and descended thecastle stairs like lightning. "Guards, shut the gate!" exclaimedMontrose--"Seize him--kill him, if he resists!--He shall die, if he weremy brother!"
But Allan prostrated, with a second blow of his dagger, a sentinel whowas upon duty---traversed the camp like a mountain-deer, though pursuedby all who caught the alarm--threw himself into the river, and, swimmingto the opposite side, was soon lost among the woods. In the course ofthe same evening, his brother Angus and his followers left Montrose'scamp, and, taking the road homeward, never again rejoined him.
Of Allan himself it is said, that, in a wonderfully short space afterthe deed was committed, he burst into a room in the Castle of Inverary,where Argyle was sitting in council, and flung on the table his bloodydirk.
"Is it the blood of James Grahame?" said Argyle, a ghastly expressionof hope mixing with the terror which the sudden apparition naturallyexcited.
"It is the blood of his minion," answered M'Aulay--"It is the bloodwhich I was predestined to shed, though I would rather have spilt myown."
Having thus spoken, he turned and left the castle, and from that momentnothing certain is known of his fate. As the boy Kenneth, with three ofthe Children of the Mist, were seen soon afterwards to cross Lochfine,it is supposed they dogged his course, and that he perished by theirhand in some obscure wilderness. Another opinion maintains, that AllanM'Aulay went abroad and died a monk of the Carthusian order. But nothingbeyond bare presumption could ever be brought in support of eitheropinion.
His vengeance was much less complete than he probably fancied; forMenteith, though so severely wounded as to remain long in a dangerousstate, was, by having adopted Major Dalgetty's fortunate recommendationof a cuirass as a bridal-garment, happily secured from the worstconsequences of the blow. But his services were lost to Montrose; and itwas thought best, that he should be conveyed with his intendedcountess, now truly a mourning bride, and should accompany his woundedfather-in-law to the castle of Sir Duncan at Ardenvohr. Dalgettyfollowed them to the water's edge, reminding Menteith of the necessityof erecting a sconce on Drumsnab to cover his lady's newly-acquiredinheritance.
They performed their voyage in safety, and Menteith was in a few weeksso well in health, as to be united to Annot in the castle of her father.
The Highlanders were somewhat puzzled to reconcile Menteith's recoverywith the visions of the second sight, and the more experienced Seerswere displeased with him for not having died. But others thought thecredit of the vision sufficiently fulfilled, by the wound inflicted bythe hand, and with the weapon, foretold; and all were of opinion, thatthe incident of the ring, with the death's head, related to the deathof the bride's father, who did not survive her marriage many months.The incredulous held, that all this was idle dreaming, and that Allan'ssupposed vision was but a consequence of the private suggestions of hisown passion, which, having long seen in Menteith a rival more belovedthan himself, struggled with his better nature, and impressed upon him,as it were involuntarily, the idea of killing his competitor.
Menteith did not recover sufficiently to join Montrose during his briefand glorious career; and when that heroic general disbanded his army andretired from Scotland, Menteith resolved to adopt the life of privacy,which he led till the Restoration. After that happy event, he occupieda situation in the land befitting his rank, lived long, happy alike inpublic regard and in domestic affection, and died at a good old age.
Our DRAMATIS PERSONAE have been so limited, that, excepting Montrose,whose exploits and fate are the theme of history, we have only tomention Sir Dugald Dalgetty. This gentleman continued, with the mostrigorous punctuality, to discharge his duty, and to receive his pay,until he was made prisoner, among others, upon the field of Philiphaugh.He was condemned to share the fate of his fellow-officers upon thatoccasion, who were doomed to death rather by denunciations from thepulpit, than the sentence either of civil or military tribunal; theirblood being considered as a sort of sin-offering to take away the guiltof the land, and the fate imposed upon the Canaanites, under a specialdispensation, being impiously and cruelly applied to them.
Several Lowland officers, in the service of the Covenanters, intercededfor Dalgetty on this occasion, representing him as a person whose skillwould be useful in their army, and who would be readily induced tochange his service. But on this point they found Sir Dugald unexpectedlyobstinate. He had engaged with the King for a certain term, and,till that was expired, his principles would not permit any shadow ofchanging. The Covenanters, again, understood no such nice distinction,and he was in the utmost danger of falling a martyr, not to this or thatpolitical principle, but merely to his own strict ideas of a militaryenlistment. Fortunately, his friends discovered, by computation, thatthere remained but a fortnight to elapse of the engagement he hadformed, and to which, though certain it was never to be renewed, nopower on earth could make him false. With some difficulty they procureda reprieve for this short space, after which they found him perfectlywilling to come under any engagements they chose to dictate. He enteredthe service of the Estates accordingly, and wrought himself forward tobe Major in Gilbert Ker's corps, commonly called the Kirk's Own Regimentof Horse. Of his farther history we know nothing, until we find him inpossession of his paternal estate of Drumthwacket, which he acquired,not by the sword, but by a pacific intermarriage with Hannah Strachan,a matron somewhat stricken in years, the widow of the AberdeenshireCovenanter.
Sir Dugald is supposed to have survived the Revolution, as traditionsof no very distant date represent him as cruising about in that country,very old, very deaf, and very full of interminable stories about theimmortal Gustavus Adolphus, the Lion of the North, and the bulwark ofthe Protestant Faith.
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READER! THE TALES OF MY LANDLORD ARE NOW FINALLY CLOSED, closed, andit was my purpose to have addressed thee in the vein of JedediahCleishbotham; but, like Horam the son of Asmar, and all other imaginarystory-tellers, Jedediah has melted into thin air.
Mr. Cleishbotham bore the same resemblance to Ariel, as he at whosevoice he rose doth to the sage Prospero; and yet, so fond are we of thefictions of our own fancy, that I part with him, and all his imaginarylocalities, with idle reluctance. I am aware this is a feeling in whichthe reader will little sympathize; but he cannot be more sensible thanI am, that sufficient varieties have now been exhibited of the Scottishcharacter, to exhaust one individual's powers of observation, and thatto persist would be useles
s and tedious. I have the vanity to suppose,that the popularity of these Novels has shown my countrymen, and theirpeculiarities, in lights which were new to the Southern reader; and thatmany, hitherto indifferent upon the subject, have been induced to readScottish history, from the allusions to it in these works of fiction.
I retire from the field, conscious that there remains behind not only alarge harvest, but labourers capable of gathering it in. More than onewriter has of late displayed talents of this description; and if thepresent author, himself a phantom, may be permitted to distinguish abrother, or perhaps a sister shadow, he would mention, in particular,the author of the very lively work entitled MARRIAGE.
