Part 31

"Let me fly to him!" exclaimed Bigla, "the moments are most precious;" and throwing her plaid hastily around her, she stole out beyond the barbican; and, having reached the garden, she ran on tiptoe to the simple elder-bush bower at the farther end of it, leaving Archy Abhach to keep watch against intrusion.

The scene between Bigla and her lover was tender and melting. For a time they did little else than weep and sigh together.

"Aggy tells me that you go with Logie to-morrow," said Sir John at last. "How could you suffer yourself to be persuaded to agree to any such arrangement?"

"It was with no good will that I did so," replied Bigla; "but as Logie was armed with my dear departed father's delegated authority, and as his proposal was backed by a parent's dying wish, I could not withstand his request."

"Holy Mother, then art thou lost to me for ever!" cried Sir John passionately. "Canst thou thus coolly resolve, even for such a cause, to throw thyself into the very jaws of those from whom I can never hope to reclaim thee but by force of arms!"

"Force of arms!" said Bigla. "I question much whether any force of arms from the Grants could prevail against the men of my clan, who will have the keeping of me. But fear not, for the time is not far distant when the law will give me guidance of mine own affairs; then mayest thou reclaim me from myself with full assurance of a ready compliance on my part."

"But what if these clansmen of thine should basely coerce thee to a hated union with one of themselves?--with Logie, for instance, who is old enough to be thy father!"

"I have no such fears," replied Bigla.

"By the rood, but I have!" cried Sir John hurriedly. "You forget the old saying,--Whilst there are leaves in the forest there--a--a--a"----

"Nay," said Bigla playfully, "do finish your proverb, Sir Knight. Whilst there are leaves in the forest there will be guile in a Cumin. Did your worship mean that as a compliment to me, or do you forget that I, too, am a Cumin?"

"Nay, nay, nay! my dearest Bigla, you are truth itself," replied Sir John eagerly. "Pardon me, my love, for quoting this old saw; but, seriously, you are too valuable, too tempting a prize to be risked in any hands but--but--but"----

"But yours, as I presume thou wouldst say, good Sir Knight," replied Bigla, interrupting him in the same playful tone.

"Thou hast said it, angel of my life!" exclaimed Sir John, rapturously kissing her hand. "I can and will resign thee to no one! Thou art my pledged, mine affianced bride!"

"I am, I am, indeed I am," said Bigla tenderly.

"Then why shouldst thou put our mutual happiness to peril?" cried Sir John. "Why not secure it by flying with me this moment? My horses and people are within a whistle of where we now are, and in half an hour's riding or so we shall be safe within the walls of Castle Grant."

"No, no, no!" replied she, "a stolen marriage would neither be for the credit of Sir John Grant nor for that of Bigla Cumin. Besides, I should be but a poor offering at Castle Grant were my broad lands not well buckled to my back."

"I care not for thy lands," said Sir John, "'tis thyself I would wed, and not thine estates. And if that be all, let us to horse forthwith. Better for me to secure thy precious self, though with the chance of losing thy lands, than lose thee in trying to save thy lands."

"'Tis gallantly resolved of thee, Sir John," said Bigla; "but I cannot allow thy chivalrous ardour to do us both so serious an injury. All I ask of thee, then, is to trust everything to my discretion and resolution, and, depend upon it, thou hast nothing to fear."

The parting between the two lovers was tender and prolonged, and it was only at length finally effected by the interference of Agnes and the page, who came running to tell them that the revellers in the hall were breaking up. And what he told them was true, for Bigla found that she required the exertion of some degree of ingenuity to effect her retreat to her chamber unnoticed.

An early hour of the next day beheld the cavalcade, formed by the united trains of Bigla Cumin and her kinsman the Laird of Logie, winding away from her paternal mansion, amidst the mingled lamentations and benedictions of her people. Bigla was mounted on her favourite palfrey, the beautiful and fleet courser of Arabian blood which was presented to her by Corrie MacDonald. Her maid Agnes rode by her side on an animal of mettle little short of that which carried her mistress. Logie and his friends, all well armed, surrounded both in a sort of irregular phalanx, which Bigla could not help thinking had more the appearance of a guard to prevent the escape of a prisoner, than that which might do her honour or give her protection. Her own followers were but few, and they were mixed up with those of the Laird of Logie. In the midst of them was the faithful page Archy, to whose care was committed the charge of a small iron-bound oaken chest, which contained her family charters and other important documents. This Logie had especially insisted that she should carry with her, in order to secure its safety. The strange misformed urchin sat like an ape, mounted on a very remarkable milk-white steed, of noble courage and beautiful proportions, and whose action was in no degree inferior to his beauty. As this fine animal had been accustomed to carry Gibbon More himself for some years before his death, it was not wonderful that Bigla should have ridden up to caress him ere the march began, and whilst she did so she contrived to give some secret orders to the rider, which did not appear to have been poured into a deaf ear.

The sun was nearly in the meridian before the party reached that point on the edge of the high plain, immediately over the double valley of the rivers Findhorn and Divie. There, as you know, a grand and extensive view of these romantic twin glens is to be enjoyed, together with the broad, rich, and beautiful vale that is formed by their union, with the majestic combined stream winding away through it, between its rocky, irregular, and wooded banks, till it is lost amidst the vast extent of forest stretching widely along both sides of it, as it proceeds on its course towards the fertile plains of the low country of Moray, and its distant firth, the whole being bounded by the blue mountains of the north. Bigla had seen this glorious prospect more than once before, but she was an enthusiastic lover of nature, and, consequently, she was not sorry when she heard the Laird of Logie propose that they should alight for a few moments to rest themselves, and that they might enjoy it, at greater leisure, and with more ease to themselves. Logie did not make this proposal without private reasons of his own. Having contrived to seat himself apart with Bigla, he began to urge his passion with an energy which he had never ventured to employ before, and after using every argument that he thought might be most likely to prevail on her to yield to his suit, he seated her again on her palfrey, and as he rode down the wooded steeps by her side, he continued to press her eagerly on the same subject, without taking the trouble to use the delicacy of speaking in a tone which might have rendered their conversation private from those with whom they travelled.

"If you will only consent to be mine, fair Bigla," said he, "I will make you mistress of as much of the bonny land of Moray as your bright eyes can reach over."

"I knew not that thy patrimony had been so ample," said Bigla coldly.

"Put your fate and mine upon the peril of this condition then," said Logie eagerly.

"I trow I might safely do so, were I to bar all trick," replied Bigla.

"Nay, then, thou art pledged to stand to the bargain," said Logie.

"I am pledged to nothing," replied Bigla haughtily.

"Ha, look there now, gentlemen!" cried Logie. "My fair ward and kinswoman Bigla Cumin here hath pledged her own pretty person to me, on condition that I shall make her mistress of as much of bonny Moray-land as her beauteous eyes can reach over. Now, how say you? Let her cast her eyes forward, and you will all bear me witness, my friends, that she can now see nothing of which I am not the undoubted owner."

By this time, you must know the cavalcade had descended from the high grounds through the winding hollows of the steep wooded braes, till all the distant and more extended part of the landscape was lost by the rise of the opposite high grounds, and certainly from the umbrageous recess where they now stood, nothing was to be seen before them but the lands of Logie.

"The joke is very well," said Bigla, not a little piqued, and reddening considerably at the liberty which had been thus taken with her before the men-at-arms who followed them; "but though Moray-land was all thine own from Ness to Spey, I would not have thee if thou wouldst lay it all at my feet."

"Talk not so proudly, mistress!" said Logie, very much nettled. "There are many maidens more than thy marrows, who would be happy to mate with me, though I had nothing but this good claymore for my portion."

"I doubt it not," replied Bigla; "but as I am not one of these, it may be as well perhaps that we talk not again on any such subject."

"A little less haughtiness would have better become thee," said Logie. "You forget that you are not now on Dulnan side; and, moreover, you forget that I am your guardian."

"Nay, it is you who forget that you are my guardian," replied Bigla. "I do feel, indeed, that I can never forget that thou art so; and, moreover, that there is a cruel difference between an unfeeling guardian and a fond father."

"I am armed with thy father's authority," said Logie hastily; "and I will exert it."

"By basely taking advantage of it to proffer thine own vile suit," said Bigla.

"To see, at least, that Freuchie's son proffers no more suit to thee," replied Logie. "If he took leave of thee last night beyond the barbican, I trow it shall be his last leave-taking of thee."

"Last night!" said Bigla with surprise.

"Aye, last night," said Logie bitterly. "Dost think I have not found out your secret meeting? Had I caught the caitiff his blood should have paid for his impudence."

"'Tis well to boast now, fair sir!" said Bigla, "now that thou hast no chance of any such encounter. Oh, would I were on my bonny Dulnan side again! but I trust that my foot shall soon be on its flowery turf."

"That shall be when thou hast my permission," said Logie, allowing his passion to get the better of him.

"What! am I so in restraint then?" said Bigla taking a scarf from her neck, and waving it behind her head in such a way, that it was hardly perceived to be a signal by any one but Archy Abhach. He no sooner observed it, however, than he began to rein his steed backwards, until he fell behind the line of march.

"Aye, bold girl, thou shalt obey me ere long as thy husband as well as thy guardian!" continued Logie.

"Sayest thou so?" said Bigla, putting on her Arabian to a gentle canter over the meadow towards the ford of the Divie, whither they were then going, so as to rid herself in some degree of the throng by which she had been surrounded. Then turning in her saddle, she shouted aloud--"Ride, Archy, for thy life, man! Ride! ride! Men of Glenchearnich, follow your mistress. Come, Aggy, spur with me, and may Saint Mary be our guide!"

And with these words she and her maid boldly dashed their steeds, breast deep, into the ford, and quickly stemmed the stream of the Divie, whilst the well-tutored Archy Abhach wheeled his horse suddenly round at her word, and, drawing his dirk, he pricked his milk-white sides till the red blood spurted from them, and the noble animal darted off, with his flea-bite of a burden, towards those wooded braes, down which they had so recently come. The Laird of Logie and his followers stood for some moments astounded on the mead, before they could determine what to do. On the one hand fled the lady; and on the other hand the charters of her lands, her bonds, and her wadsets were already winging their way upwards through the woods; and the question was, which of the two objects of pursuit was the most important. Even after he had gathered his scattered recollection, Logie stood in doubt for a time. At length, seeing that Bigla Cumin had taken the direction of the house of Logie, so that he was still left, as he reckoned, between her and her own country, he quickly made his selection.

"After that miscreated devil on the white horse!" cried he. "Take the caitiff and the kist he carries!--take him dead or alive!--but, at all hazards take the kist!"

Off went the laird and his people helter-skelter after Archy Abhach, whilst the followers of Bigla Cumin were left at liberty to become her followers indeed. The waters of the Divie frothed and foamed again as they dashed through after her. I need not tell you, gentlemen, who know the carte de pays so well, that although Bigla rode off at first in the very direction in which the laird had wished her to go, I mean towards his own house, she had no sooner forced her way up the steep narrow path leading from the ford, than she found herself in a position where she had it in her power to choose between two ways--one stretching straight onwards towards the house of Logie, and the other leading directly back over the hills to the eastward of the Divie towards her own country, by a route different from that which she had travelled in the morning. There she stood for some moments on a conspicuous point overlooking the valley. But you may easily guess that she stopped not from any doubt that possessed her as to which of the two ways she should take--she only waited till her panting followers had clustered around her; for they had no sooner gathered than she waved her scarf again, and, amidst the shouts of her men-at-arms, she turned her horse's head to the hill, and began to breast it most vigorously. Logie beheld her manoeuvre, and it shook his purpose for an instant. He gave hurried and contradictory orders, which only had the effect of slackening the pursuit after the urchin page, and Bigla had the satisfaction of seeing that faithful creature shooting far up among the bowery braes ere any final decision had been taken by the laird. At length, a small plump of horsemen were sent off towards the ford to pursue Bigla, whilst the remainder, with Logie at their head, renewed their chase after Archy Abhach and his precious casket.

"Who is he, think you, that rides hither with so much haste from the pass of Craig-Bey?" demanded Sir John Grant of the man-at-arms on watch, as he stalked along the bartizan of his castle to take a look over the country, about the time that the sun was hastening downwards to hide himself below the western horizon.

"If mortal man it be who looks so like a speck on the saddle, he either rides with hot news to spur him on, or he has some enemy after him," replied the man.

"By'r lady, but you have guessed right well," said Sir John; "for see! there comes a straggling line of some dozen of horsemen rattling like thunder through the pass."

"Methinks that the elf who flies bears some strange burden behind him," said the man-at-arms.

"He doth so, indeed," said Sir John.

"Some common thief, I'll warrant me, who hath carried away a booty from some usurious burgher of Forres," said the man-at-arms.

"Be he what he may, his white horse is no carrion," said Sir John. "How the noble animal devours the ground!"

"He is as like old Gibbon More's favourite horse as one egg is to another," said the man-at-arms as he drew nearer.

"Gibbon More's, saidst thou?" exclaimed Sir John; "and, by all that is good, he that rides is like my faithful page; but see, he turns this way. Let's to the barbican," and, taking three steps down the narrow stair at each stride, he was at the barbican in a few moments.

"What, ho!" cried Sir John, as the horse came galloping up to the gate. "What, ho! Archy Abhach, is it you? What news of thy mistress?"

"I have neither time nor breath to speak of her at present," cried Archy, leaping from his horse, and hastily unbuckling the little charter-chest from behind the saddle of his reeking horse; "but here--catch!--there you have her charters and titles, being that which I reckon some of the people who are after me would think the best part of herself. There, catch, I say!" and with that, he threw the precious box clean over the top of the wall.

"Soh!" continued Archy, taking a long breath--"I have done my lady's bidding like a true Cumin, and now I must draw to defend mine own head, like a true Grant, for the knaves will be upon me."

"Thou shalt not long lack help, my brave little fellow!" cried Sir John, and in a moment, a party of armed Grants came crowding out from the gate at the heels of their young chief. And, as Archy's pursuers came up one by one, they collected into a knot on the top of the heathery hillock, and then filed off without ever daring to come within bowshot of the walls.

"Now, tell me what has befallen the Lady Bigla?" cried Sir John Grant, impatiently addressing the page.

The faithful Archy Abhach gave him a brief outline of all he knew.

"To horse! to horse!" cried Sir John, hardly waiting till he had finished. "Holy St. Mary! she may be lost if we tarry."

A very few minutes only were expended ere Sir John and his troop were mounted and away. They galloped after the retiring Cumins, but they could see nothing of them anywhere. He had got to the side of the hill of Craig-Bey, and was stretching his eyes in all directions, when the distant clash of conflict came up through the woods that sloped away into the glen to the right. Sir John gave the spur to his horse, and dashed down through the thicket, calling to his men to follow him. In a grassy holm, by the side of a small stream, he found Bigla Cumin surrounded by her faithful but small band of followers, who were bravely defending her against a superior body of assailants. His sudden appearance immediately dispersed her enemies, and, overpowered by the fatigue occasioned by her long wearisome and rapid flight, as well as by the alarm which she had endured, she slipped from her palfrey, and sank exhausted on the ground. Sir John Grant was soon on his knees beside her, to support her weakness, and to calm her agitation. She had owed her escape, in the first place, to the swiftness and endurance of her favourite Arabian blooded palfrey, together with her own wonderful hardihood as a horsewoman, which, much surpassing that of the Lady Juliana Berners herself, had carried her over mountain and moss, through bog and stream, in a manner altogether inconceivable; and, secondly, to the appearance of Sir John Grant, just as she had been attacked by a quickly formed ambush of the retreating Cumins, whose onset had given time to those who pursued her to come up, by which means she and her people being hemmed in on all sides would have been speedily overcome.

Ere the evening closed in, Bigla Cumin found herself safely housed within the walls of Castle Grant; and the very next day the priest's blessing gave to Sir John Grant her fair hand, and with it her fair lands too.

VELVET CUSHIONS.

Clifford.--Well done, Bigla Cumin! If ever I marry, I am resolved to have a fearless wife who can gallop across a country. But hey!--(stretching himself as we arose to proceed)--I protest I am quite stiff. Confound your green velvety grass! commend me rather to your velvet cushion of Genoa. Your story was too long, Mr. Macpherson, and by far too interesting for a breezy hill-side and a dewy bank like this.

Dominie.--It will grieve me sore, Mr. Clifford, if you should in any way suffer from my prolixity.

Clifford.--Tut, man, I'd sit in a snow-wreath, or on a glacier, to listen to you. But, hark ye! what was that you muttered, before you began your story, about leaving us?

Dominie.--Really I cannot speak it without vurra great pain, Mr. Clifford; but my path disparts from your road a little way on here. I have to wend my way through the whole extent of these wild forests, which you see below us there, stretching across the intermediate country between us and the misty Cairngorums yonder. I am journeying to visit a brother of mine, who, as the elegant author of Douglas hath it,

"Feeds his flocks, A frugal swain,"

on the slopes of the mountains beyond.

Clifford.--Nay, nay, we cannot part with you so. Had it been a lady, indeed, that you were going to visit, I should not have said a word. But for a brother merely.

Dominie (with the tear swelling in his eye).--Pardon me, Mr. Clifford, pardon me; but I have an affection for my brother which few can estimate. We were twin bairns. Ewan and I alone remain of all our family. I make a yearly journey to visit him.

Clifford.--I venerate you for your feelings, and I sympathise with them from the bottom of my heart. But if I may make a guess at the geography of the country before us, I should conceive that if we could persuade you to go with us to Tomantoul to-day, your walk from thence to your brother's to-morrow would be but short.

Dominie (hesitating).--Hu--um!--that may be, sir. I am sure I am vurra happy in your company; but, may I ask gentlemen, what your plans are?

Clifford.--We tie ourselves to no plans. For aught we know we may be in Switzerland or Sweden before this day month. But, at present, we propose to proceed up the Glen of the Aven to-morrow, on our way to Loch Aven.

Dominie.--It is a wild place, and the way is not easy to find.

Author.--Wild enough, indeed. I once wandered all round it; but I never approached it by its own glen.

Dominie.--I would have fain gone with you as your guide, for well do I know every mountain, moss, rock, and well by the way. But I cannot mistrust my brother, who is expeckin' me about this time. Albeit, as I cannot go all the way myself with you, I would fain, before I quit you, put you into the hands of one who is well acquainted with all the mountain tracks and passes, that there may be no risk of your losing yourselves amidst those savage Alpine solitudes.

Clifford.--Ah! that would be kind of you indeed.

Grant.--Had you not better consent to spend this night with us at Tomantoul, then, Mr. Macpherson.

Dominie.--I was just thinking in my own mind that I behooved so to do. I can then see you as far up Strathdaun to-morrow as Gaulrig, where old Willox the Wizard lives, and there----

Clifford.--What! a wizard, said you? You don't mean to put us under the guidance of Satan, I hope. That would indeed be sending us to the----

Dominie.--No, no, Mr. Clifford; but there is a friend of mine, who lives near to old Willox, one Archy Stewart, a retired sergeant, who will be just the man for your purpose, if we can find him at home. He knows every inch of the mountains, and, moreover, he is as full of old stories as an egg is full of meat.

Clifford.--The very man for us. But what can you tell us of old Willox the Wizard? I hope we shall see him.

Author.--I have often heard of him. His name is MacGregor, is it not? I should like much to see him.

Dominie.--You will be sure to see him if you call at Gaulrig, for, as he is now above ninety, he is too old to leave home. He is worth the seeing too; for although, as I need not tell you, gentlemen, he never possessed any supernatural power, yet his cleverness must have been great to have enabled him to make the whole country, far and near, believe, even in these more enlightened days, that he can divine secrets and work wonders by means of his two charmed instruments--the mermaid's stone and the enchanted bridal of the water-kelpie.

Clifford.--How the deuce did he get hold of such articles? and what sort of things are they?