an' mae than thee; an' there will be mae yet! It is but a day! an' dark an' dismal though it be, the change will be the sweeter! Blessed, blessed be the day! None can say of thee that thou died like a fool, for thy hands were not bound, nor thy feet put into fetters." Then turning close round to Katharine, with an expression of countenance quite indescribable, she added in a quick maddened manner,-"Eh? Thou seekest a test of me, dost thou? Can blood do it?-Can martyrdom do it?-Can bonds, wounds, tortures, and mockery do it?-Can death itself do it? All these have I suffered for that cause _in this same body_; mark that; for there is but one half of my bone and my flesh here. But words are nothing to the misbelieving-mere air mouthed into a sound. Look at this for a test of _my_ sincerity and truth." So saying, she gave her hand a wild brandish in the air, darted it at her throat, and snapping the tie of her cap that she had always worn over her face, she s.n.a.t.c.hed it off, and turning her cheek round to her young mistress, added, "Look there for your test, and if that is not enough, I will give you more!"

Katharine was struck dumb with astonishment and horror. She saw that her ears were cut out close to the skull, and a C. R. indented on her cheek with a hot iron, as deep as the jawbone. She burst out a crying-clasped the old enthusiast in her arms-kissed the wound and steeped it with her tears, and without one further remark, led her away to the Old Room, that they might converse without interruption.

The sequel of this disclosure turned not out as desired; but this we must leave by the way, until we overtake it in the regular course of the narrative.

CHAPTER XII.

As soon as her father's letter was put into her hands, Katharine sent off one of her brothers to Muchrah, to warn old John and his son to come instantly to Chapelhope. They both arrived while she and Nanny were consulting in the Old Room. She told them of her father's letter, of the jeopardy he was in, and of her intended application to Drummelzier without loss of time. "One of you," said she, "must accompany me; and I sent for you both, to learn which could, with least inconvenience, be wanted from your flocks."

"As for me," said John, "it's out o' the question to _think_ about me winning away. The ewes wad gang wi' the bit hogfence o' the Quave Brae, stoup and roup. What wi' ghaists, brownies, dead men, an' ae mischief an' other, it is maistly gane already; an' what's to come o' the poor bits o' plottin baggits a' winter, is mair nor I can tell. They may pike the woo aff ane another for aught that I see."

Katharine was grieved to hear this remonstrance, for she was desirous of having old John as a guide and protector, who well knew the way, and was besides singular for strength and courage, if kept among beings of this world. She represented to him that the hogfence of the QuaveBrae, could not possibly be of equal importance with his master's life, nor yet with the loss of his whole stock, both of sheep and cattle, which might be confiscated, if prompt measures were not adopted. Nothing, however, could persuade John, that ought could be of equal importance to him with that which he had the charge of, and on which his heart and attention were so much set both by day and night. He said he had lost his lugs, and been brunt wi' the king's birn, for the hogfence of the QuaveBrae; and when he coudna get away to the prison at Edinburgh for fear o't, but suffered sae muckle in place o' that, how could he win away a' the gate to Dunse Castle?

Jasper liked not the journey more than he; for being convinced of Katharine's power over spirits, he was very jealous of her taking undue advantages of him, but he was obliged to submit. He refused a horse, saying "it would only taigle him, but if she suffered him to gang on his feet, if he was hindmost at Dunse, he should gie her leave to cut the lugs out o' his head too, and then he wad hae the thief's mark on him like his father."

Away they went; she riding on a stout s.h.a.ggy poney, and Jasper running before her barefoot, but with his _hose and shoon_ bound over his shoulder. He took the straight line for Dunse, over hill and dale, as a shepherd always does, who hates the _wimples_, as he calls them, of a turnpike. He took such a line as an eagle would take, or a flock of wild geese journeying from the one side of the country to the other, never once reflecting on the inconvenience of riding on such a road. Of course, it was impossible his young mistress could keep up with him-indeed she had often enough to do in keeping sight of him. They met with some curious adventures by the way, particularly one near Thirlestane castle on Leader, with some stragglers of a troop of soldiers. But these things we must hurry over as extraneous matter, having nothing more to do with them than as connected with the thread of our tale. They slept that night at a farmhouse in Lammermoor, which belonged to Drummelzier, and next day by noon arrived at Dunse Castle.

Drummelzier, being one of the Committee of Public Safety, was absent from home, to which he did not return for several days, to the great perplexity of Katharine, who was in the utmost distress about her father, as well as her affairs at home. She was obliged, however, to wait with patience, as no one knew in what part of the country he was.

The housekeeper, who was an Englishwoman, was kind to her, and bade her not be afraid, for that their master had much more power with the government than Claverhouse, the one being a moving spring, and the other only a tool.

Drummelzier was a bold and determined royalist-was, indeed, in high trust with the Privycouncil, and had it in his power to have hara.s.sed the country as much, and more, than the greater part of those who did so; but, fortunately for that southeast division of Scotland, he was a gentleman of high honour, benevolence, and suavity of manners, and detested any act of injustice or oppression. He by these means contributed materially to the keeping of a large division of Scotland (though as whiggishly inclined as any part of it, Ayrshire perhaps excepted,) in perfect peace. The very first dash that Clavers made among the Covenanters, while he was as yet only a captain of a company, was into this division of the country over which Drummelzier was appointed to keep an eye, and it was in consequence of his intrepid and decided behaviour there, that the Duke of York interested himself in his behalf, and procured him the command of a troop of horse. At a place called Bewly, on the confines of Roxburghshire, he surprised a large conventicle about eleven o'clock on a Sabbath morning. Having but a small band, as soon as he appeared a crowd of the hearers gathered round the preacher to defend him, or to further his escape. Clavers burst in upon them like a torrent; killed and wounded upwards of an hundred; took the preacher prisoner, and all such of the hearers as were the most respectable in appearance. He would have detained many more had his force been sufficient for his designs, for that very day, about five o'clock in the afternoon, he surprised another numerous conventicle, at a place called HelmburnLinn, in Selkirkshire, where he acted over the same scene that he had done in the morning. The people, it is true, did not get time to rally round their pastor as at the former place, for the first intelligence they had of his approach was from a volley of musketry among them from the top of the linn, which took too sure effect.

The congregation scattered in a moment; and as there were strong fastnesses near at hand, none were taken prisoners, save some old men, and a number of ladies; unfortunately all these were ladies of distinction: the preacher likewise was taken, who suffered afterwards.

The soldiers related of this man, that when they came upon the crowd, and fired among them, he was in the middle of his afternoon prayer, and all the people standing uncovered around him; and that for all the shots, and the people flying and falling dead about him, he never so much as paused, nor took down his hands, nor even opened his eyes, but concluded a sentence in the same fervent tone, after they had dragged him from the tent.

At one or other of these unfortunate conventicles, a part of all the chief families of the Pringles, such as Torwoodlee, Whitebank, Fairnilie, and others, were taken prisoners; as well as some of the Scotts of Harden, and the Dougla.s.ses of Cavers and Boonjeddart; rich prizes for Clavers, who bore them all in triumph prisoners to Edinburgh.

Drummelzier put his whole interest to the stretch to get these leading and respectable families freed from such a disagreeable dilemma, and succeeded in getting the greater part of them set at liberty, on giving securities. From that time forth, there existed a secret jealousy between him and Clavers; but as their jurisdiction lay on different sides of the country, they had no further interference with one another.

When Katharine informed him, that his farmer, whom he so much esteemed, was taken away a prisoner, and by whom, he bit his lip, shook his head, and seemed highly incensed. He then questioned her about all the charges against him, and the evidence; requesting her, at the same time, to tell him the truth, in all its bearings, to the most minute scruple; and when he had heard all, he said, that his lordship had other motives for this capture besides these. He lost no time in setting about the most coercive measures he could think of, to procure his liberty. He sent an express to the Privycouncil, and wrote to sundry other gentlemen, whom Katharine knew nothing of; but the destination of Walter being utterly unknown to either of them, the laird was at a loss how to proceed.

He gave her, moreover, a bond of security, signed with his name, and without a direction, to a great amount, for her father's appearance at any court, to answer such charges as were brought against him; and with this she was to haste to the place where her father was a prisoner, and present it to the sheriff of the county, or chief magistrate of the burgh of such place, unless it was at Edinburgh, and in that case she was to take no farther care or concern about him.

She hasted home with her wild guide, where she arrived the fourth or fifth day after her departure; and found, to her astonishment, the Chapelhope deserted by man, woman, and boy! Not a living creature remained about the steading, but her father's dog and some poultry! The doors were locked, and the key away; and, hungry and fatigued as she was, she could find no means of admittance. At length, on looking about, she perceived that the cows were not about the house, nor any where in the corn, and concluding that some one must be herding them, she went up the side of the lake to their wonted walk, and found her two brothers attending the cattle.

They told her that the _town_ (so they always denominate a farmsteading in that district,) had been so grievously haunted in her absence, both by Brownie and a ghost, that they were all obliged to leave it; that their mother was gone all the way to Gilmanscleuch to her brother, to remain there until she saw what became of her husband; Ma.s.s John was taken away by the fairies; and old Nanny was at Riskinhope, where they were also residing and sleeping at night; that the keys of the house were to be had there, but nothing would induce Nanny to come back again to Chapelhope, or at least to remain another night under its roof.

One mischief came thus upon poor Katharine after another; and she was utterly unable to account for this piece of intelligence, having been satisfied when she went away, that she had put every thing in train to secure peace and order about the house, until her return. She rode to Riskinhope for the key, but not one would accompany her home, poor Nanny being lying moaning upon a bed. Jasper sat on the side of the hill, at a convenient distance from the house, until her return; but then took her horse from her, and put it away to the rest, refusing to enter the door. Thus was she left in her father's house all alone. Nanny came over, and a.s.sisted her in milking the kine evening and morning; and she remained the rest of the day, and every night, by herself, neither did she press any one much to bear her company. She had no one to send in search of her father, and deliver Drummelzier's bond, at least none that any one knew of, yet it was sent, and that speedily, although to little purpose; for though Walter was sent to Dumfries Jail, he remained there but two nights; a party of prisoners, of ten men and two women, being ordered for Edinburgh, under a guard of soldiers, he was mixed indiscriminately with the rest, and sent there along with them.

He always said, that though he was disposed to think well of Clavers before he saw him, yet he never was so blithe in his life as when he got from under his jurisdiction; for there was an appearance of ferocity and wantonness of cruelty in all his proceedings, during the time that he rode in his train a prisoner, that made the heart of any man, not brutified by inurement to such scenes, revolt at the principles that induced, as well as the government that warranted them. He saw him and his troopers gather the whole vale of Annandale, as a shepherd gathers his sheep in droves, p.r.i.c.king the inhabitants with their swords to urge their speed. When he got thus all the people of a parish, or division of a parish, driven together, he surrounded them with his soldiers, made them kneel by dozens, and take the oath of abjuration, as well as one acknowledging James Duke of York their rightful lord and sovereign; and lastly, made them renounce their right and part in Heaven, if ever they repented them of that oath. The first man of such a group, who refused or objected to compliance with this dreadful measure, he took him forthwith behind the ranks and shot him, which summary way of proceeding generally induced all the people to comply. Moreover, the way in which he threatened and maltreated children, and mocked and insulted women, not to mention more brutal usage of them, proved him at once to be dest.i.tute of the behaviour and feelings becoming a man, far less those of a gentleman. He seemed to regard all the commonalty in the south and west of Scotland as things to be mocked and insulted at pleasure, as beings created only for the sport of him and his soldiers, while their mental and bodily agonies were his delight. The narrator of this tale confesses that he has taken this account of his raid through the vales of Esk and Annan solely from tradition, as well as the attack made on the two conventicles, where the Pringles, &c. were taken prisoners; but these traditions are descended from such a source, and by such a line, as amounts with him to veracity.

Far different were Walter's feelings on parting with the commander of his guard, Serjeant Daniel Roy Macpherson, a n.o.ble block from the genuine quarry of nature-rude as it was taken thence, without the mark of hammer or chisel. When he heard that his prisoner was to be taken from under his charge, he made up to him when out of the eye of his commander, and treated him with a parting speech; which, on account of its singularity, is here preserved, though, doubtless, woefully garbled by being handed from one southland generation to another.

"Now he'll pe tahaking you away from mhe pefore as it were yesterdhay; and he'll pe putting you into some vhile dark hole with all te low tamn pwigs that come from te hills of Gallochee and Drummochloonrich, which is a shame and a disgrhace to shut up a shentleman who is chief of a clan among such poor crhazy maniachs, who will pe filling your ears full of their rejoicings in spirit; and of Haiven! and Haiven! just as if they were all going to Haiven! Cot t--n, do they suppose that Haiven is to pe filled full of such poor insignaificant crheatures as they? or that Cot is not a shentleman, that he would pe falling into such cohmpany? But I'll pe giving you advice as a friend and prhother; when you come pefore the couhnsel, or any of their commissioners, do not you pe talking of Haiven, and Haiven, and of conscience and covenants. And do not you pe pragging and poasting of one to pe your chief, or to pe of a clan that has not a friend at court; but tell them your own clan, and your claims to be its chief; and if you do not know her true descent, you had better claim Macpherson; she pe as ould and as honourable a clan as any of them all, and more."

Walter said, he trusted still to the proofs of his own loyalty, and the want of evidence to the contrary.

"Pooh! pooh! Cot tamn!" said Macpherson; "I tell you the evidence you want is this, if any great man say you ought to live, you will live; if not, you will die. Did not I was telling you that the soholdiers that were found dead in the correi, on the lands that belong to yourself, was evidence enough and more; I would not pe giving _a curse_ for _your_ evidence after that, for the one is much petter than te other. And py Cot, it is very well thought!" continued he, smiling grimly, "if you will pe preaking out into a rage, and pe cursing and tamning them all, you will get free in one moment."

Walter said, that would be an easy ransom, and though it was an error he was too apt to fall into when angry, he could see no effect it could have in this case, but to irritate his prosecutors more and more against him.

"You see no effect! Cot t--n, if you ever can see any effect peyond the top that is on your nose! and you will not pe advised by a man of experience, who would do more for you than he would pe commending of; and if you trust to what you can see, you will pe dancing a beautiful Highland shig in the air to a saulm tune, and that will have a very good effect. I tell you, when you come again to be questioned, I know my Lord Dundee is to be there to pe adducing his proof; take you great and proud offence at some of their questions and their proofs; and you may pe making offer to fight them all one by one, or two by two, in the king's name, and send them all to h.e.l.l in one pody; you cannot pe tamning them too much sore. By the soul of Rory More Macpherson! I would almost give up this claymore to be by and see that effect. Now you are not to pe minding because I am laughing like a fool, for I'm perfectly serious; if matters should pe standing hard with you, think of the advice of an ould friend, who respects you as the chief of the clan MacLeadle, supposing it to pe as low, and as much fallen down as it may.-Farewell! she pe giving you her hearty Cot's blessing."

Thus parted he with Daniel Roy Macpherson, and, as he judged, an unfortunate change it was for him. The wretch who now took the command of their guard had all the ignorance and rudeness of the former, without any counterbalance of high feeling and honour like him. His name was Patie Ingles, a temporary officer, the same who cut off the head of the amiable Mr White with an axe, at Kilmarnock, carried it to Newmills, and gave it to his party to play a game with at football, which they did. Ingles was drunk during the greater part of the journey, and his whole delight was in hurting, mortifying, and mimicking his prisoners.

They were all bound together in pairs, and driven on in that manner like coupled dogs. This was effected by a very simple process. Their hands were fastened behind, the right and left arm of each pair being linked within one another. Walter was tied to a little spare Galloway weaver, a man wholly p.r.o.ne to controversy-he wanted to argue every point-on which account he was committed. Yet, when among the Cameronians, he took their principles as severely to task as he did those of the other party when examined by them. He lived but to contradict. Often did he try Walter with different points of opinion regarding the Christian Church.

Walter knew so little about them that the weaver was astonished. He tried him with the apologetical declaration. Walter had never heard of it. He could make nothing of his gigantic a.s.sociate, and at length began a sly enquiry on what account he was committed; but even on that he received no satisfactory information.

Ingles came staggering up with them. "Weel, Master Skinflint, what say you to it the day? This is a pleasant journey, is it not? Eh?-I say, Master, what do they call you! Pealan'eat, answer me in this-you see-I say-Is it not delightful? Eh?"

"Certainly, sir," said the weaver, who wished to be quit of him; "very delightful to those who feel it so."

"_Feel_ it so!-D--n you, sirrah, what do you mean by that? Do you know who you are speaking to? Eh?-Answer me in this-What do you mean by _Feel it so_? Eh?"

"I meant nothing," returned the weaver, somewhat snappishly, "but that kind of respect which I always pay to gentry like you."

"Gentry like me!-D--n you, sir, if you speak such a-Eh?-Gentry like me!-I'll spit you like a c.o.c.k pheasant-Eh? Have you any of them in Galloway? Answer me in this, will you? Eh?"

"I'll answer any reasonable thing, sir," said the poor weaver.

"Hout! never head the creature, man," said Walter; "it's a poor drunken senseless beast of a thing."

Ingles fixed his reeling unsteady eyes upon him, filled with drunken rage-walked on, spitting and looking across the way for a considerable s.p.a.ce-"What the devil of a whig camel is this?" said he, crossing over to Walter's side. "Drunken senseless beast of a thing! Holm, did you hear that?-Macwhinny, did you?-Eh? I'll scorn to shoot the cusser, though I could do it-Eh? But I'll kick him like a dog-Eh?-Take that, and that, will you? Eh?" And so saying, he kicked our proudhearted and independant Goodman of Chapelhope with his plebeian foot, staggering backward each time he struck.

Walter's spirit could not brook this; and disregardful of all consequences, he wheeled about with his face toward him, dragging the weaver round with a jerk, as a mastiff sometimes does a spaniel that is coupled to him; and, as Ingles threw up his foot to kick him on the belly, he followed up his heel with his foot, giving him such a fling upwards as made him whirl round in the air like a reel. He fell on his back, and lay motionless; on which, several of the party of soldiers levelled their muskets at Walter. "Ay, shoot," said he, setting up his boardly breast to them-"Shoot at me if you dare, the best o' ye."

The soldiers c.o.c.ked their pieces.

"Your Colonel himsel durstna wrang a hair o' my head, though fain he wad hae done sae, without first gieing me ower to his betters-Let me see if a scullion amang ye a' dare do mair than he."

The soldiers turned their eyes, waiting for the word of command; and the weaver kept as far away from Walter as the nature of his bonds would let him. The command of the party now devolved on a Serjeant Douglas; who, perhaps nothing sorry for what had happened, stepped in between the soldiers and prisoner, and swore a great oath, that "what the prisoner said was the truth; and that all that it was their duty to do was, to take the prisoners safe to Edinburgh, as at first ordered; and there give their evidence of this transaction, which would send the lousy whig to h.e.l.l at once, provided there was any chance of his otherwise escaping."

They lifted Ingles, and held him up into the air to get breath, loosing meantime his cravat and clothes; on which he fell to vomit severely, owing to the fall he had got, and the great quant.i.ty of spirits he had drunk. They waited on him for about two hours; but as he still continued unable either to speak or walk, they took him into a house called Granton, and proceeded on their destination.

This Douglas, though apparently a superior person to the former commander of the party, was still more intolerant and cruel than he.

There was no indignity or inconvenience that he could fasten on his prisoners which he did not exercise to the utmost. They lodged that night at a place called Tweedshaws; and Walter used always to relate an occurrence that took place the next morning, that strongly marked the character of this petty officer, as well as the licensed cruelty of the times.

Some time previous to this, there had been a fellowship meeting, at a place called TalloLins, of the wanderers that lurked about Chapelhope and the adjacent mountains. About eighty had a.s.sembled, merely to spend the night in prayer, reading the Scriptures, &c. The curate of Tweedsmuir, a poor dissolute wretch, sent a flaming account of this in writing to the privy council, magnifying that simple affair to a great and dangerous meeting of armed men. The council took the alarm, raised the hue and cry, and offered a reward for the apprehending of any one who had been at the meeting of TalloLins. The curate, learning that a party of the king's troops was lodged that night in his parish and neighbourhood, came to Tweedshaws at a late hour, and requested to speak with the captain of the party. He then informed Douglas of the meeting, shewed him the council's letter and proclamation, and finally told him that there was a man in a cottage hard by whom he strongly suspected to have formed one at the meeting alluded to in the proclamation. There being no conveniency for lodging so many people at Tweedshaws, Douglas and the curate drank together all the night, as did the soldiers in another party. A number of friends to the prisoners had given them money when they left Dumfries for Edinburgh, to supply as well as they might the privations to which they would be subjected; but here the military took the greater part of it from them to supply their intemperance.

About the break of day, they went and surrounded a shepherd's cottage belonging to the farm of Corehead, having been led thither by the curate, where they found the shepherd an old man, his daughter, and one Edward M'Cane, son to a merchant in Lanarkshire, who was courting this shepherdess, a beautiful young maiden. The curate having got intelligence that a stranger was at that house, immediately suspected him to be one of the wanderers, and on this surmise the information was given. The curate acknowledged the shepherd and his daughter as parishioners, but of M'Cane, he said, he knew nothing, and had no doubt that he was one of the rebellious whigs. They fell to examine the youth, but they were all affected with the liquor they had drunk over night, and made a mere farce of it, paying no regard to his answers, or, if they did, it was merely to misconstrue or mock them. He denied having been at the meeting at TalloLinns, and all acquaintance with the individuals whom they named as having been there present. Finding that they could make nothing of him whereon to ground a charge, Douglas made them search him for arms; for being somewhat drunk, he took it highly amiss that he should have been brought out of his way for nothing.

M'Cane judged himself safe on that score, for he knew that he had neither knife, razor, bodkin, nor edged instrument of any kind about him; but as ill luck would have it, he chanced to have an old gunflint in his waistcoat pocket. Douglas instantly p.r.o.nounced this to be sufficient, and ordered him to be shot. M'Cane was speechless for some time with astonishment, and at length told his errand, and the footing on which he stood with the young girl before them, offering at the same time to bring proofs from his own parish of his loyalty and conformity.

He even condescended to kneel to the ruffian, to clasp his knees, and beg and beseech of him to be allowed time for a regular proof; but nothing would move him. He said, the courtship was a very clever excuse, but would not do with him, and forthwith ordered him to be shot. He would not even allow him to sing a psalm with his two friends, but cursed and swore that the devil a psalm he should sing there. He said, "It would not be singing a few verses of a psalm in a wretched and miserable style that would keep him out of h.e.l.l; and if he went to heaven, he might then lilt as much at psalmsinging as he had a mind."

When the girl, his betrothed sweetheart, saw the muskets levelled at her lover, she broke through the file, shrieking most piteously, threw herself on him, clasped his neck and kissed him, crying, like one distracted, "O Edward, take me wi' ye-take me wi' ye; a' the warld sanna part us."

"Ah! Mary," said he, "last night we looked forward to long and happy years-how joyful were our hopes! but they are all blasted at once. Be comforted, my dearest, dearest heart!-G.o.d bless you!-Farewell forever."

The soldiers then dragged her backward, mocking her with indelicate remarks, and while she was yet scarcely two paces removed, and still stretching out her hands towards him, six b.a.l.l.s were lodged in his heart in a moment, and he fell dead at her feet. Deformed and b.l.o.o.d.y as he was, she pressed the corpse to her bosom, moaning and sobbing in such a way as if every throb would have been her last, and in that condition the soldiers marched merrily off and left them. For this doughty and n.o.ble deed, for which Serjeant Douglas deserved to have been hanged and quartered, he shortly after got a cornetcy in Sir Thomas Livingston's troop of horse.