CHAPTER XXX
GOOD-BYE
So far as I was concerned myself, I had come to port; but I had stillAlan, to whom I was so much beholden, on my hands; and I felt besides aheavy charge in the matter of the murder and James of the Glens. On boththese heads I unbosomed to Rankeillor the next morning, walking to andfro about six of the clock before the house of Shaws, and with nothingin view but the fields and woods that had been my ancestors', and werenow mine. Even as I spoke on these grave subjects, my eye would take aglad bit of a run over the prospect, and my heart jump with pride.
About my clear duty to my friend, the lawyer had no doubt: I must helphim out of the country at whatever risk; but in the case of James he wasof a different mind.
"Mr. Thomson," says he, "is one thing, Mr. Thomson's kinsman quiteanother. I know little of the facts, but I gather that a great noble(whom we will call, if you like, the D. of A.[36]) has some concern, andis even supposed to feel some animosity in the matter. The D. of A. isdoubtless an excellent nobleman; but, Mr. David, _timeo qui nocueredeos_. If you interfere to baulk his vengeance, you should rememberthere is one way to shut your testimony out; and that is to put you inthe dock. There you would be in the same pickle as Mr. Thomson'skinsman. You will object that you are innocent; well, but so is he. Andto be tried for your life before a Highland jury, on a Highland quarrel,and with a Highland judge upon the bench, would be a brief transition tothe gallows."
Now I had made all these reasonings before and found no very good replyto them; so I put on all the simplicity I could. "In that case, sir,"said I, "I would just have to be hanged--would I not?"
"My dear boy," cries he, "go in God's name, and do what you think isright. It is a poor thought that at my time of life I should be advisingyou to choose the safe and shameful; and I take it back with an apology.Go and do your duty; and be hanged, if you must, like a gentleman. Thereare worse things in the world than to be hanged."
"Not many, sir," said I, smiling.
"Why, yes, sir," he cried, "very many. And it would be ten times betterfor your uncle (to go no farther afield) if he were dangling decentlyupon a gibbet."
Thereupon he turned into the house (still in a great fervour of mind, sothat I saw I had pleased him heartily) and there he wrote me twoletters, making his comments on them as he wrote.
"This," says he, "is to my bankers, the British Linen Company, placing acredit to your name. Consult Mr. Thomson, he will know of ways; and you,with this credit, can supply the means. I trust you will be a goodhusband of your money; but in the affair of a friend like Mr. Thomson, Iwould be even prodigal. Then for his kinsman, there is no better waythan that you should seek the Advocate, tell him your tale, and offertestimony; whether he may take it or not is quite another matter, andwill turn on the D. of A. Now, that you may reach the Lord Advocate wellrecommended, I give you here a letter to a namesake of your own, thelearned Mr. Balfour of Pilrig, a man whom I esteem. It will look betterthat you should be presented by one of your own name; and the laird ofPilrig is much looked up to in the Faculty, and stands well with LordAdvocate Grant. I would not trouble him, if I were you, with anyparticulars; and (do you know?) I think it would be needless to refer toMr. Thomson. Form yourself upon the laird, he is a good model; when youdeal with the Advocate, be discreet; and in all these matters, may theLord guide you, Mr. David!"
Thereupon he took his farewell, and set out with Torrance for the Ferry,while Alan and I turned our faces for the city of Edinburgh. As we wentby the footpath and beside the gate-posts and the unfinished lodge, wekept looking back at the house of my fathers. It stood there, bare andgreat and smokeless, like a place not lived in; only in one of the topwindows there was the peak of a nightcap bobbing up and down, and backand forward, like the head of a rabbit from a burrow. I had littlewelcome when I came, and less kindness while I stayed; but at least Iwas watched as I went away.
Alan and I went slowly forward upon our way, having little heart eitherto walk or speak. The same thought was uppermost in both, that we werenear the time of our parting; and remembrance of all the bygone dayssate upon us sorely. We talked indeed of what should be done; and it wasresolved that Alan should keep to the country, biding now here, nowthere, but coming once in the day to a particular place where I might beable to communicate with him, either in my own person or by messenger.In the meanwhile I was to seek out a lawyer, who was an Appin Stewart,and a man therefore to be wholly trusted; and it should be his part tofind a ship and to arrange for Alan's safe embarkation. No sooner wasthis business done than the words seemed to leave us; and though I wouldseek to jest with Alan under the name of Mr. Thomson, and he with me onmy new clothes and my estate, you could feel very well that we werenearer tears than laughter.
We came the by-way over the hill of Corstorphine; and when we got nearto the place called Rest-and-be-Thankful, and looked down onCorstorphine bogs and over to the city and the castle on the hill, weboth stopped, for we both knew without a word said that we had come towhere our ways parted. Here he repeated to me once again what had beenagreed upon between us: the address of the lawyer, the daily hour atwhich Alan might be found, and the signals that were to be made by anythat came seeking him. Then I gave him what money I had (a guinea or twoof Rankeillor's), so that he should not starve in the meanwhile; andthen we stood a space, and looked over at Edinburgh in silence.
"Well, good-bye," said Alan, and held out his left hand.
"Good-bye," said I, and gave the hand a little grasp, and went off downthe hill.
Neither one of us looked the other in the face, nor so long as he was inmy view did I take one back glance at the friend I was leaving. But as Iwent on my way to the city, I felt so lost and lonesome, that I couldhave found it in my heart to sit down by the dyke, and cry and weep likeany baby.
It was coming near noon when I passed in by the West Kirk and theGrassmarket into the streets of the capital. The huge height of thebuildings, running up to ten and fifteen stories, the narrow archedentries that continually vomited passengers, the wares of the merchantsin their windows, the hubbub and endless stir, the foul smells and thefine clothes, and a hundred other particulars too small to mention,struck me into a kind of stupor of surprise, so that I let the crowdcarry me to and fro; and yet all the time what I was thinking of wasAlan at Rest-and-be-Thankful; and all the time (although you would thinkI would not choose but be delighted with these braws and novelties)there was a cold gnawing in my inside like a remorse for somethingwrong.
The hand of Providence brought me in my drifting to the very doors ofthe British Linen Company's bank.
FOOTNOTE:
[36] The Duke of Argyle.
END OF VOL. X
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