CHAPTER XXIX.
Still harping on my daughter.
Hamlet.
Two hours before the black cock crew, Simon Glover was wakened by a wellknown voice, which called him by name.
"What, Conachar!" he replied, as he started from sleep, "is the morningso far advanced?" and, raising his eyes, the person of whom he wasdreaming stood before him; and at the same moment, the events ofyesterday rushing on his recollection, he saw with surprise that thevision retained the form which sleep had assigned it, and it was not themail clad Highland chief, with claymore in hand, as he had seen himthe preceding night, but Conachar of Curfew Street, in his humbleapprentice's garb, holding in his hand a switch of oak. An apparitionwould not more have surprised our Perth burgher. As he gazed withwonder, the youth turned upon him a piece of lighted bog wood which hecarried in a lantern, and to his waking exclamation replied:
"Even so, father Simon: it is Conachar, come to renew our oldacquaintance, when our intercourse will attract least notice."
So saying, he sat down on a tressel which answered the purpose ofa chair, and placing the lantern beside him, proceeded in the mostfriendly tone:
"I have tasted of thy good cheer many a day, father Simon; I trust thouhast found no lack in my family?"
"None whatever, Eachin MacIan," answered the glover, for the simplicityof the Celtic language and manners rejects all honorary titles; "it waseven too good for this fasting season, and much too good for me, since Imust be ashamed to think how hard you fared in Curfew Street."
"Even too well, to use your own word," said Conachar, "for the desertsof an idle apprentice and for the wants of a young Highlander. Butyesterday, if there was, as I trust, enough of food, found you not, goodglover, some lack of courteous welcome? Excuse it not--I know you didso. But I am young in authority with my people, and I must not too earlydraw their attention to the period of my residence in the Lowlands,which, however, I can never forget."
"I understand the cause entirely," said Simon; "and therefore it isunwillingly, and as it were by force, that I have made so early a visithither."
"Hush, father--hush! It is well you are come to see some of my Highlandsplendour while it yet sparkles. Return after Palm Sunday, and who knowswhom or what you may find in the territories we now possess! Thewildcat may have made his lodge where the banqueting bower of MacIan nowstands."
The young chief was silent, and pressed the top of the rod to his lips,as if to guard against uttering more.
"There is no fear of that, Eachin," said Simon, in that vague way inwhich lukewarm comforters endeavour to turn the reflections of theirfriends from the consideration of inevitable danger.
"There is fear, and there is peril of utter ruin," answered Eachin, "andthere is positive certainty of great loss. I marvel my father consentedto this wily proposal of Albany. I would MacGillie Chattanach wouldagree with me, and then, instead of wasting our best blood againsteach other, we would go down together to Strathmore and kill and takepossession. I would rule at Perth and he at Dundee, and all the greatstrath should be our own to the banks of the Firth of Tay. Such is thepolicy I have caught from your old grey head, father Simon, when holdinga trencher at thy back, and listening to thy evening talk with BailieCraigdallie."
"The tongue is well called an unruly member," thought the glover."Here have I been holding a candle to the devil, to show him the way tomischief."
But he only said aloud: "These plans come too late."
"Too late indeed!" answered Eachin. "The indentures of battle are signedby our marks and seals, the burning hate of the Clan Quhele and ClanChattan is blown up to an inextinguishable flame by mutual insults andboasts. Yes, the time is passed by. But to thine own affairs, fatherGlover. It is religion that has brought thee hither, as I learn fromNiel Booshalloch. Surely, my experience of thy prudence did not leadme to suspect thee of any quarrel with Mother Church. As for my oldacquaintance, Father Clement, he is one of those who hunt after thecrown of martyrdom, and think a stake, surrounded with blazing fagots,better worth embracing than a willing bride. He is a very knight errantin defence of his religious notions, and does battle wherever he comes.He hath already a quarrel with the monks of Sibyl's Isle yonder aboutsome point of doctrine. Hast seen him?"
"I have," answered Simon; "but we spoke little together, the time beingpressing."
"He may have said that there is a third person--one more likely, Ithink, to be a true fugitive for religion than either you, a shrewdcitizen, or he, a wrangling preacher--who would be right heartilywelcome to share our protection? Thou art dull, man, and wilt not guessmy meaning--thy daughter, Catharine."
These last words the young chief spoke in English; and he continued theconversation in that language, as if apprehensive of being overheard,and, indeed, as if under the sense of some involuntary hesitation.
"My daughter Catharine," said the glover, remembering what theCarthusian had told him, "is well and safe."
"But where or with whom?" said the young chief. "And wherefore came shenot with you? Think you the Clan Quhele have no cailliachs as active asold Dorothy, whose hand has warmed my haffits before now, to wait uponthe daughter of their chieftain's master?"
"Again I thank you," said the glover, "and doubt neither your power noryour will to protect my daughter, as well as myself. But an honourablelady, the friend of Sir Patrick Charteris, hath offered her a safe placeof refuge without the risk of a toilsome journey through a desolate anddistracted country."
"Oh, ay, Sir Patrick Charteris," said Eachin, in a more reserved anddistant tone; "he must be preferred to all men, without doubt. He isyour friend, I think?"
Simon Glover longed to punish this affectation of a boy who had beenscolded four times a day for running into the street to see Sir PatrickCharteris ride past; but he checked his spirit of repartee, and simplysaid:
"Sir Patrick Charteris has been provost of Perth for seven years, and itis likely is so still, since the magistrates are elected, not in Lent,but at St. Martinmas."
"Ah, father Glover," said the youth, in his kinder and more familiarmode of address, "you are so used to see the sumptuous shows andpageants of Perth, that you would but little relish our barbarousfestival in comparison. What didst thou think of our ceremonial ofyesterday?"
"It was noble and touching," said the glover; "and to me, who knew yourfather, most especially so. When you rested on the sword and lookedaround you, methought I saw mine old friend Gilchrist MacIan arisen fromthe dead and renewed in years and in strength."
"I played my part there boldly, I trust; and showed little of thatpaltry apprentice boy whom you used to--use just as he deserved?"
"Eachin resembles Conachar," said the glover, "no more than a salmonresembles a gar, though men say they are the same fish in a differentstate, or than a butterfly resembles a grub."
"Thinkest thou that, while I was taking upon me the power which allwomen love, I would have been myself an object for a maiden's eye torest upon? To speak plain, what would Catharine have thought of me inthe ceremonial?"
"We approach the shallows now," thought Simon Glover, "and without nicepilotage we drive right on shore."
"Most women like show, Eachin; but I think my daughter Catharine be anexception. She would rejoice in the good fortune of her household friendand playmate; but she would not value the splendid MacIan, captain ofClan Quhele, more than the orphan Conachar."
"She is ever generous and disinterested," replied the young chief. "Butyourself, father, have seen the world for many more years than she hasdone, and can better form a judgment what power and wealth do for thosewho enjoy them. Think, and speak sincerely, what would be your ownthoughts if you saw your Catharine standing under yonder canopy, withthe command over an hundred hills, and the devoted obedience of tenthousand vassals; and as the price of these advantages, her hand in thatof the man who loves her the best in the world?"
"Meaning in your own, Conachar?" said Simon.
"Ay, Conachar call me: I l
ove the name, since it was by that I have beenknown to Catharine."
"Sincerely, then," said the glover, endeavouring to give the leastoffensive turn to his reply, "my inmost thought would be the earnestwish that Catharine and I were safe in our humble booth in CurfewStreet, with Dorothy for our only vassal."
"And with poor Conachar also, I trust? You would not leave him to pineaway in solitary grandeur?"
"I would not," answered the glover, "wish so ill to the Clan Quhele,mine ancient friends, as to deprive them, at the moment of emergency,of a brave young chief, and that chief of the fame which he is about toacquire at their head in the approaching conflict."
Eachin bit his lip to suppress his irritated feelings as he replied:"Words--words--empty words, father Simon. You fear the Clan Quhelemore than you love them, and you suppose their indignation would beformidable should their chief marry the daughter of a burgess of Perth."
"And if I do fear such an issue, Hector MacIan, have I not reason? Howhave ill assorted marriages had issue in the house of MacCallanmore,in that of the powerful MacLeans--nay, of the Lords of the Islesthemselves? What has ever come of them but divorce and exheredation,sometimes worse fate, to the ambitious intruder? You could not marry mychild before a priest, and you could only wed her with your lefthand; and I--" he checked the strain of impetuosity which the subjectinspired, and concluded, "and I am an honest though humble burgher ofPerth, who would rather my child were the lawful and undoubted spouse ofa citizen in my own rank than the licensed concubine of a monarch."
"I will wed Catharine before the priest and before the world, beforethe altar and before the black stones of Iona," said the impetuous youngman. "She is the love of my youth, and there is not a tie in religion orhonour but I will bind myself by them! I have sounded my people. Ifwe do but win this combat--and, with the hope of gaining Catharine, weSHALL win it--my heart tells me so--I shall be so much lord over theiraffections that, were I to take a bride from the almshouse, so it wasmy pleasure, they would hail her as if she were a daughter ofMacCallanmore. But you reject my suit?" said Eachin, sternly.
"You put words of offence in my mouth," said the old man, "and may nextpunish me for them, since I am wholly in your power. But with my consentmy daughter shall never wed save in her own degree. Her heart wouldbreak amid the constant wars and scenes of bloodshed which connectthemselves with your lot. If you really love her, and recollect herdread of strife and combat, you would not wish her to be subjected tothe train of military horrors in which you, like your father, mustneeds be inevitably and eternally engaged. Choose a bride amongst thedaughters of the mountain chiefs, my son, or fiery Lowland nobles. Youare fair, young, rich, high born, and powerful, and will not woo invain. You will readily find one who will rejoice in your conquests, andcheer you under defeat. To Catharine, the one would be as frightfulas the other. A warrior must wear a steel gauntlet: a glove of kidskinwould be torn to pieces in an hour."
A dark cloud passed over the face of the young chief, lately animatedwith so much fire.
"Farewell," he said, "the only hope which could have lighted me to fameor victory!"
He remained for a space silent, and intensely thoughtful, with downcasteyes, a lowering brow, and folded arms. At length he raised his hands,and said: "Father,--for such you have been to me--I am about to tell youa secret. Reason and pride both advise me to be silent, but fate urgesme, and must be obeyed. I am about to lodge in you the deepest anddearest secret that man ever confided to man. But beware--end thisconference how it will--beware how you ever breathe a syllable of whatI am now to trust to you; for know that, were you to do so in the mostremote corner of Scotland, I have ears to hear it even there, and ahand and poniard to reach a traitor's bosom. I am--but the word will notout!"
"Do not speak it then," said the prudent glover: "a secret is no longersafe when it crosses the lips of him who owns it, and I desire not aconfidence so dangerous as you menace me with."
"Ay, but I must speak, and you must hear," said the youth. "In this ageof battle, father, you have yourself been a combatant?"
"Once only," replied Simon, "when the Southron assaulted the Fair City.I was summoned to take my part in the defence, as my tenure required,like that of other craftsmen, who are bound to keep watch and ward."
"And how felt you upon that matter?" inquired the young chief.
"What can that import to the present business?" said Simon, in somesurprise.
"Much, else I had not asked the question," answered. Eachin, in the toneof haughtiness which from time to time he assumed.
"An old man is easily brought to speak of olden times," said Simon, notunwilling, on an instant's reflection, to lead the conversation awayfrom the subject of his daughter, "and I must needs confess my feelingswere much short of the high, cheerful confidence, nay, the pleasure,with which I have seen other men go to battle. My life and professionwere peaceful, and though I have not wanted the spirit of a man, whenthe time demanded it, yet I have seldom slept worse than the nightbefore that onslaught. My ideas were harrowed by the tales we weretold--nothing short of the truth--about the Saxon archers: how they drewshafts of a cloth yard length, and used bows a third longer than ours.When I fell into a broken slumber, if but a straw in the mattresspricked my side I started and waked, thinking an English arrow wasquivering in my body. In the morning, as I began for very weariness tosink into some repose, I was waked by the tolling of the common bell,which called us burghers to the walls; I never heard its sound peal solike a passing knell before or since."
"Go on--what further chanced?" demanded Eachin.
"I did on my harness," said Simon, "such as it was; took my mother'sblessing, a high spirited woman, who spoke of my father's actions forthe honour of the Fair Town. This heartened me, and I felt still bolderwhen I found myself ranked among the other crafts, all bowmen, for thouknowest the Perth citizens have good skill in archery. We were dispersedon the walls, several knights and squires in armour of proof beingmingled amongst us, who kept a bold countenance, confident perhaps intheir harness, and informed us, for our encouragement, that they wouldcut down with their swords and axes any of those who should attempt toquit their post. I was kindly assured of this myself by the old Kempeof Kinfauns, as he was called, this good Sir Patrick's father, then ourprovost. He was a grandson of the Red Rover, Tom of Longueville, anda likely man to keep his word, which he addressed to me in especial,because a night of much discomfort may have made me look paler thanusual; and, besides, I was but a lad."
"And did his exhortation add to your fear or your resolution?" saidEachin, who seemed very attentive.
"To my resolution," answered Simon; "for I think nothing can make aman so bold to face one danger at some distance in his front as theknowledge of another close behind him, to push him forward. Well, Imounted the walls in tolerable heart, and was placed with others on theSpey Tower, being accounted a good bowman. But a very cold fit seized meas I saw the English, in great order, with their archers in front,and their men at arms behind, marching forward to the attack in strongcolumns, three in number. They came on steadily, and some of us wouldfain have shot at them; but it was strictly forbidden, and we wereobliged to remain motionless, sheltering ourselves behind the battlementas we best might. As the Southron formed their long ranks into lines,each man occupying his place as by magic, and preparing to coverthemselves by large shields, called pavesses, which they planted beforethem, I again felt a strange breathlessness, and some desire to go homefor a glass of distilled waters. But as I looked aside, I saw the worthyKempe of Kinfauns bending a large crossbow, and I thought it pity heshould waste the bolt on a true hearted Scotsman, when so many Englishwere in presence; so I e'en staid where I was, being in a comfortableangle, formed by two battlements. The English then strode forward, anddrew their bowstrings--not to the breast, as your Highland kerne do, butto the ear--and sent off their volleys of swallow tails before we couldcall on St. Andrew. I winked when I saw them haul up their tackle, and Ibelieve I started as the s
hafts began to rattle against the parapet.But looking round me, and seeing none hurt but John Squallit, the towncrier, whose jaws were pierced through with a cloth yard shaft, I tookheart of grace, and shot in my turn with good will and good aim. Alittle man I shot at, who had just peeped out from behind his target,dropt with a shaft through his shoulder. The provost cried, 'Wellstitched, Simon Glover!' 'St. John, for his own town, my fellowcraftsmen!' shouted I, though I was then but an apprentice. And if youwill believe me, in the rest of the skirmish, which was ended by thefoes drawing off, I drew bowstring and loosed shaft as calmly as ifI had been shooting at butts instead of men's breasts. I gainedsome credit, and I have ever afterwards thought that, in case ofnecessity--for with me it had never been matter of choice--I should nothave lost it again. And this is all I can tell of warlike experience inbattle. Other dangers I have had, which I have endeavoured to avoid likea wise man, or, when they were inevitable, I have faced them like atrue one. Upon other terms a man cannot live or hold up his head inScotland."
"I understand your tale," said Eachin; "but I shall find it difficultto make you credit mine, knowing the race of which I am descended, andespecially that I am the son of him whom we have this day laid in thetomb--well that he lies where he will never learn what you are now tohear! Look, my father, the light which I bear grows short and pale, afew minutes will extinguish it; but before it expires, the hideous talewill be told. Father, I am--a COWARD! It is said at last, and the secretof my disgrace is in keeping of another!"
The young man sunk back in a species of syncope, produced by the agonyof his mind as he made the fatal communication. The glover, moved aswell by fear as by compassion, applied himself to recall him to life,and succeeded in doing so, but not in restoring him to composure. He hidhis face with his hands, and his tears flowed plentifully and bitterly.
"For Our Lady's sake, be composed," said the old man, "and recall thevile word! I know you better than yourself: you are no coward, but onlytoo young and inexperienced, ay, and somewhat too quick of fancy, tohave the steady valour of a bearded man. I would hear no other man saythat of you, Conachar, without giving him the lie. You are no coward:I have seen high sparks of spirit fly from you even on slight enoughprovocation."
"High sparks of pride and passion!" said the unfortunate youth; "butwhen saw you them supported by the resolution that should have backedthem? The sparks you speak of fell on my dastardly heart as on a pieceof ice which could catch fire from nothing: if my offended pride urgedme to strike, my weakness of mind prompted me the next moment to fly."
"Want of habit," said Simon; "it is by clambering over walls that youthslearn to scale precipices. Begin with slight feuds; exercise daily thearms of your country in tourney with your followers."
"And what leisure is there for this?" exclaimed the young chief,starting as if something horrid had occurred to his imagination. "Howmany days are there betwixt this hour and Palm Sunday, and what is tochance then? A list inclosed, from which no man can stir, more than thepoor bear who is chained to his stake. Sixty living men, the bestand fiercest--one alone excepted!--which Albyn can send down from hermountains, all athirst for each other's blood, while a king and hisnobles, and shouting thousands besides, attend, as at a theatre, toencourage their demoniac fury! Blows clang and blood flows, thicker,faster, redder; they rush on each other like madmen, they tear eachother like wild beasts; the wounded are trodden to death amid the feetof their companions! Blood ebbs, arms become weak; but there must beno parley, no truce, no interruption, while any of the maimed wretchesremain alive! Here is no crouching behind battlements, no fighting withmissile weapons: all is hand to hand, till hands can no longer be raisedto maintain the ghastly conflict! If such a field is so horrible inidea, what think you it will be in reality?"
The glover remained silent.
"I say again, what think you?"
"I can only pity you, Conachar," said Simon. "It is hard to be thedescendant of a lofty line--the son of a noble father--the leader bybirth of a gallant array, and yet to want, or think you want, forstill I trust the fault lies much in a quick fancy, that over estimatesdanger--to want that dogged quality which is possessed by every gamecock that is worth a handful of corn, every hound that is worth amess of offal. But how chanced it that, with such a consciousness ofinability to fight in this battle, you proffered even now to share yourchiefdom with my daughter? Your power must depend on your fighting thiscombat, and in that Catharine cannot help you."
"You mistake, old man," replied Eachin: "were Catharine to look kindlyon the earnest love I bear her, it would carry me against the front ofthe enemies with the mettle of a war horse. Overwhelming as my senseof weakness is, the feeling that Catharine looked on would give mestrength. Say yet--oh, say yet--she shall be mine if we gain the combat,and not the Gow Chrom himself, whose heart is of a piece with hisanvil, ever went to battle so light as I shall do! One strong passion isconquered by another."
"This is folly, Conachar. Cannot the recollection of your interest, yourhonour, your kindred, do as much to stir your courage as the thoughts ofa brent browed lass? Fie upon you, man!"
"You tell me but what I have told myself, but it is in vain," repliedEachin, with a sigh. "It is only whilst the timid stag is paired withthe doe that he is desperate and dangerous. Be it from constitution; beit, as our Highland cailliachs will say, from the milk of the whitedoe; be it from my peaceful education and the experience of your strictrestraint; be it, as you think, from an overheated fancy, which paintsdanger yet more dangerous and ghastly than it is in reality, I cannottell. But I know my failing, and--yes, it must be said!--so sorely dreadthat I cannot conquer it, that, could I have your consent to my wisheson such terms, I would even here make a pause, renounce the rank I haveassumed, and retire into humble life."
"What, turn glover at last, Conachar?" said Simon. "This beats thelegend of St. Crispin. Nay--nay, your hand was not framed for that: youshall spoil me no more doe skins."
"Jest not," said Eachin, "I am serious. If I cannot labour, I will bringwealth enough to live without it. They will proclaim me recreant withhorn and war pipe. Let them do so. Catharine will love me the betterthat I have preferred the paths of peace to those of bloodshed, andFather Clement shall teach us to pity and forgive the world, which willload us with reproaches that wound not. I shall be the happiest of men;Catharine will enjoy all that unbounded affection can confer upon her,and will be freed from apprehension of the sights and sounds of horrorwhich your ill assorted match would have prepared for her; and you,father Glover, shall occupy your chimney corner, the happiest and mosthonoured man that ever--"
"Hold, Eachin--I prithee, hold," said the glover; "the fir light, withwhich this discourse must terminate, burns very low, and I would speaka word in my turn, and plain dealing is best. Though it may vex,or perhaps enrage, you, let me end these visions by saying at once:Catharine can never be yours. A glove is the emblem of faith, and aman of my craft should therefore less than any other break his own.Catharine's hand is promised--promised to a man whom you may hate, butwhom you must honour--to Henry the armourer. The match is fitting bydegree, agreeable to their mutual wishes, and I have given my promise.It is best to be plain at once; resent my refusal as you will--I amwholly in your power. But nothing shall make me break my word."
The glover spoke thus decidedly, because he was aware from experiencethat the very irritable disposition of his former apprentice yielded inmost cases to stern and decided resolution. Yet, recollecting where hewas, it was with some feelings of fear that he saw the dying flame leapup and spread a flash of light on the visage of Eachin, which seemedpale as the grave, while his eye rolled like that of a maniac in hisfever fit. The light instantly sunk down and died, and Simon felt amomentary terror lest he should have to dispute for his life withthe youth, whom he knew to be capable of violent actions when highlyexcited, however short a period his nature could support the measureswhich his passion commenced. He was relieved by the voice of Eachin, whomuttered in a hoarse a
nd altered tone:
"Let what we have spoken this night rest in silence for ever. If thoubring'st it to light, thou wert better dig thine own grave."
Thus speaking, the door of the hut opened, admitting a gleam ofmoonshine. The form of the retiring chief crossed it for an instant, thehurdle was then closed, and the shieling left in darkness.
Simon Glover felt relieved when a conversation fraught with offence anddanger was thus peaceably terminated. But he remained deeply affected bythe condition of Hector MacIan, whom he had himself bred up.
"The poor child," said he, "to be called up to a place of eminence,only to be hurled from it with contempt! What he told me I partly knew,having often remarked that Conachar was more prone to quarrel than tofight. But this overpowering faint heartedness, which neither shamenor necessity can overcome, I, though no Sir William Wallace, cannotconceive. And to propose himself for a husband to my daughter, as ifa bride were to find courage for herself and the bridegroom! No--no,Catharine must wed a man to whom she may say, 'Husband, spare yourenemy'--not one in whose behalf she must cry, 'Generous enemy, spare myhusband!"
Tired out with these reflections, the old man at length fell asleep.In the morning he was awakened by his friend the Booshalloch, who, withsomething of a blank visage, proposed to him to return to his abode onthe meadow at the Ballough. He apologised that the chief could not seeSimon Glover that morning, being busied with things about the expectedcombat; and that Eachin MacIan thought the residence at the Balloughwould be safest for Simon Glover's health, and had given charge thatevery care should be taken for his protection and accommodation.
Niel Booshalloch dilated on these circumstances, to gloss over theneglect implied in the chief's dismissing his visitor without aparticular audience.
"His father knew better," said the herdsman. "But where should he havelearned manners, poor thing, and bred up among your Perth burghers, who,excepting yourself, neighbour Glover, who speak Gaelic as well as I do,are a race incapable of civility?"
Simon Glover, it may be well believed, felt none of the want of respectwhich his friend resented on his account. On the contrary, he greatlypreferred the quiet residence of the good herdsman to the tumultuoushospitality of the daily festival of the chief, even if there had notjust passed an interview with Eachin upon a subject which it would bemost painful to revive.
To the Ballough, therefore, he quietly retreated, where, could he havebeen secure of Catharine's safety, his leisure was spent pleasantlyenough. His amusement was sailing on the lake in a little skiff, which aHighland boy managed, while the old man angled. He frequently landedon the little island, where he mused over the tomb of his old friendGilchrist MacIan, and made friends with the monks, presenting the priorwith gloves of martens' fur, and the superior officers with each of thema pair made from the skin of the wildcat. The cutting and stitching ofthese little presents served to beguile the time after sunset, whilethe family of the herdsman crowded around, admiring his address, andlistening to the tales and songs with which the old man had skill topass away a heavy evening.
It must be confessed that the cautious glover avoided the conversationof Father Clement, whom he erroneously considered as rather the authorof his misfortunes than the guiltless sharer of them. "I will not," hethought, "to please his fancies, lose the goodwill of these kindmonks, which may be one day useful to me. I have suffered enough by hispreachments already, I trow. Little the wiser and much the poorer theyhave made me. No--no, Catharine and Clement may think as they will; butI will take the first opportunity to sneak back like a rated hound atthe call of his master, submit to a plentiful course of haircloth andwhipcord, disburse a lusty mulct, and become whole with the churchagain."
More than a fortnight had passed since the glover had arrived atBallough, and he began to wonder that he had not heard news of Catharineor of Henry Wynd, to whom he concluded the provost had communicated theplan and place of his retreat. He knew the stout smith dared not comeup into the Clan Quhele country, on account of various feuds withthe inhabitants, and with Eachin himself, while bearing the name ofConachar; but yet the glover thought Henry might have found means tosend him a message, or a token, by some one of the various couriers whopassed and repassed between the court and the headquarters of the ClanQuhele, in order to concert the terms of the impending combat, themarch of the parties to Perth, and other particulars requiring previousadjustment. It was now the middle of March, and the fatal Palm Sundaywas fast approaching.
Whilst time was thus creeping on, the exiled glover had not even onceset eyes upon his former apprentice. The care that was taken to attendto his wants and convenience in every respect showed that he was notforgotten; but yet, when he heard the chieftain's horn ringing throughthe woods, he usually made it a point to choose his walk in a differentdirection. One morning, however, he found himself unexpectedly inEachin's close neighbourhood, with scarce leisure to avoid him, and thusit happened.
As Simon strolled pensively through a little silvan glade, surroundedon either side with tall forest trees, mixed with underwood, a white doebroke from the thicket, closely pursued by two deer greyhounds, oneof which griped her haunch, the other her throat, and pulled her downwithin half a furlong of the glover, who was something startled at thesuddenness of the incident. The ear and piercing blast of a horn, andthe baying of a slow hound, made Simon aware that the hunters were closebehind, and on the trace of the deer. Hallooing and the sound ofmen running through the copse were heard close at hand. A moment'srecollection would have satisfied Simon that his best way was to standfast, or retire slowly, and leave it to Eachin to acknowledge hispresence or not, as he should see cause. But his desire of shunning theyoung man had grown into a kind of instinct, and in the alarm of findinghim so near, Simon hid himself in a bush of hazels mixed with holly,which altogether concealed him. He had hardly done so ere Eachin, rosywith exercise, dashed from the thicket into the open glade, accompaniedby his foster father, Torquil of the Oak. The latter, with equalstrength and address, turned the struggling hind on her back, andholding her forefeet in his right hand, while he knelt on her body,offered his skene with the left to the young chief, that he might cutthe animal's throat.
"It may not be, Torquil; do thine office, and take the assay thyself. Imust not kill the likeness of my foster--"
This was spoken with a melancholy smile, while a tear at the same timestood in the speaker's eye. Torquil stared at his young chief for aninstant, then drew his sharp wood knife across the creature's throatwith a cut so swift and steady that the weapon reached the backbone.Then rising on his feet, and again fixing a long piercing look on hischief, he said: "As much as I have done to that hind would I do to anyliving man whose ears could have heard my dault (foster son) so much asname a white doe, and couple the word with Hector's name!"
If Simon had no reason before to keep himself concealed, this speech ofTorquil furnished him with a pressing one.
"It cannot be concealed, father Torquil," said Eachin: "it will all outto the broad day."
"What will out? what will to broad day?" asked Torquil in surprise.
"It is the fatal secret," thought Simon; "and now, if this huge privycouncillor cannot keep silence, I shall be made answerable, I suppose,for Eachin's disgrace having been blown abroad."
Thinking thus anxiously, he availed himself at the same time of hisposition to see as much as he could of what passed between the afflictedchieftain and his confidant, impelled by that spirit of curiosity whichprompts us in the most momentous, as well as the most trivial, occasionsof life, and which is sometimes found to exist in company with greatpersonal fear.
As Torquil listened to what Eachin communicated, the young man sankinto his arms, and, supporting himself on his shoulder, concluded hisconfession by a whisper into his ear. Torquil seemed to listen with suchamazement as to make him incapable of crediting his ears. As if to becertain that it was Eachin who spoke, he gradually roused the youth fromhis reclining posture, and, holding him up in some measure by
a grasp onhis shoulder, fixed on him an eye that seemed enlarged, and at the sametime turned to stone, by the marvels he listened to. And so wild waxedthe old man's visage after he had heard the murmured communication,that Simon Glover apprehended he would cast the youth from him as adishonoured thing, in which case he might have lighted among the verycopse in which he lay concealed, and occasioned his discovery in amanner equally painful and dangerous. But the passions of Torquil,who entertained for his foster child even a double portion of thatpassionate fondness which always attends that connexion in the Highlandstook a different turn.
"I believe it not," he exclaimed; "it is false of thy father's child,false of thy mother's son, falsest of my dault! I offer my gage toheaven and hell, and will maintain the combat with him that shall callit true. Thou hast been spellbound by an evil eye, my darling, and thefainting which you call cowardice is the work of magic. I remember thebat that struck the torch out on the hour that thou wert born--that hourof grief and of joy. Cheer up, my beloved. Thou shalt with me to Iona,and the good St. Columbus, with the whole choir of blessed saints andangels, who ever favoured thy race, shall take from thee the heart ofthe white doe and return that which they have stolen from thee."
Eachin listened, with a look as if he would fain have believed the wordsof the comforter.
"But, Torquil," he said, "supposing this might avail us, the fatal dayapproaches, and if I go to the lists, I dread me we shall be shamed."
"It cannot be--it shall not!" said Torquil. "Hell shall not prevail sofar: we will steep thy sword in holy water, place vervain, St. John'sWort, and rowan tree in thy crest. We will surround thee, I and thyeight brethren: thou shalt be safe as in a castle."
Again the youth helplessly uttered something, which, from the dejectedtone in which it was spoken, Simon could not understand, while Torquil'sdeep tones in reply fell full and distinct upon his ear.
"Yes, there may be a chance of withdrawing thee from the conflict. Thouart the youngest who is to draw blade. Now, hear me, and thou shalt knowwhat it is to have a foster father's love, and how far it exceeds thelove even of kinsmen. The youngest on the indenture of the Clan Chattanis Ferquhard Day. His father slew mine, and the red blood is seethinghot between us; I looked to Palm Sunday as the term that should cool it.But mark! Thou wouldst have thought that the blood in the veins of thisFerquhard Day and in mine would not have mingled had they been put intothe same vessel, yet hath he cast the eyes of his love upon my onlydaughter Eva, the fairest of our maidens. Think with what feelings Iheard the news. It was as if a wolf from the skirts of Farragon hadsaid, 'Give me thy child in wedlock, Torquil.' My child thought notthus: she loves Ferquhard, and weeps away her colour and strength indread of the approaching battle. Let her give him but a sign of favour,and well I know he will forget kith and kin, forsake the field, and flywith her to the desert."
"He, the youngest of the champions of Clan Chattan, being absent, I, theyoungest of the Clan Quhele, may be excused from combat" said Eachin,blushing at the mean chance of safety thus opened to him.
"See now, my chief;" said Torquil, "and judge my thoughts towardsthee: others might give thee their own lives and that of their sons--Isacrifice to thee the honour of my house."
"My friend--my father," repeated the chief, folding Torquil to hisbosom, "what a base wretch am I that have a spirit dastardly enough toavail myself of your sacrifice!"
"Speak not of that. Green woods have ears. Let us back to the camp, andsend our gillies for the venison. Back, dogs, and follow at heel."
The slowhound, or lyme dog, luckily for Simon, had drenched his nose inthe blood of the deer, else he might have found the glover's lair in thethicket; but its more acute properties of scent being lost, it followedtranquilly with the gazehounds.
When the hunters were out of sight and hearing, the glover arose,greatly relieved by their departure, and began to move off in theopposite direction as fast as his age permitted. His first reflectionwas on the fidelity of the foster father.
"The wild mountain heart is faithful and true. Yonder man is more likethe giants in romaunts than a man of mould like ourselves; and yetChristians might take an example from him for his lealty. A simplecontrivance this, though, to finger a man from off their enemies'chequer, as if there would not be twenty of the wildcats ready to supplyhis place."
Thus thought the glover, not aware that the strictest proclamationswere issued, prohibiting any of the two contending clans, their friends,allies, and dependants, from coming within fifty miles of Perth, duringa week before and a week after the combat, which regulation was to beenforced by armed men.
So soon as our friend Simon arrived at the habitation of the herdsman,he found other news awaiting him. They were brought by Father Clement,who came in a pilgrim's cloak, or dalmatic, ready to commence his returnto the southward, and desirous to take leave of his companion in exile,or to accept him as a travelling companion.
"But what," said the citizen, "has so suddenly induced you to returnwithin the reach of danger?"
"Have you not heard," said Father Clement, "that, March and his Englishallies having retired into England before the Earl of Douglas, the goodearl has applied himself to redress the evils of the commonwealth, andhath written to the court letters desiring that the warrant for the HighCourt of Commission against heresy be withdrawn, as a trouble to men'sconsciences, that the nomination of Henry of Wardlaw to be prelate ofSt. Andrews be referred to the Parliament, with sundry other thingspleasing to the Commons? Now, most of the nobles that are with the Kingat Perth, and with them Sir Patrick Charteris, your worthy provost, havedeclared for the proposals of the Douglas. The Duke of Albany had agreedto them--whether from goodwill or policy I know not. The good King iseasily persuaded to mild and gentle courses. And thus are the jawteeth of the oppressors dashed to pieces in their sockets, and the preysnatched from their ravening talons. Will you with me to the Lowlands,or do you abide here a little space?"
Neil Booshalloch saved his friend the trouble of reply.
"He had the chief's authority," he said, "for saying that Simon Glovershould abide until the champions went down to the battle."
In this answer the citizen saw something not quite consistent with hisown perfect freedom of volition; but he cared little for it at thetime, as it furnished a good apology for not travelling along with theclergyman.
"An exemplary man," he said to his friend Niel Booshalloch, as soon asFather Clement had taken leave--"a great scholar and a great saint. Itis a pity almost he is no longer in danger to be burned, as his sermonat the stake would convert thousands. O Niel Booshalloch, FatherClement's pile would be a sweet savouring sacrifice and a beacon toall decent Christians! But what would the burning of a borrel ignorantburgess like me serve? Men offer not up old glove leather for incense,nor are beacons fed with undressed hides, I trow. Sooth to speak, I havetoo little learning and too much fear to get credit by the affair, and,therefore, I should, in our homely phrase, have both the scathe and thescorn."
"True for you," answered the herdsman.