Part 11

“Ah, Katharine,” returned Alice, with an attempt at mock pathos, “you are insensible of the pleasures which a young lady feels when engaged in literary pursuits. The pen in her hand, is the fair fan with which she cools the fervid glow of her imagination and affections. How interesting she appears when she has the requisite strength of mind to banish toys, silks, and dresses, and introduce on her dressing table nothing but long rolls of manuscript! She dreams not of soft whispers, sweet glances, and handsome lovers; but of that nice ode, that sublime epic, or the passionate drama, which she made yesterday. She rises to stare at the sun, frighten the flowers, and overflow the very Thames with ink, on paper. Or should she be an astronomer, how becoming for a young lady to use a telescope, instead of a quizzing glass!”

She then searched the desk, and discovering some rude drafts of verses, addressed to “a lady,” inquired of Katharine whether she had yet obtained a fair copy of them. For a time she was as mischievous as usual; but all her sport was evidently feigned. In the midst of it, at length, she became silent, and snatching up a light, hurried to the clock, and instantly returned pale and breathless.

“Katharine!” she exclaimed, while she grasped her hands, “it is but a few minutes from midnight! He has become a traitor to his home and his country. I have stopped the clock, that whenever he returns, it may not disgrace him. Near midnight, and he absent,--and at such a time, when all our fears are excited by rebellion!”

Her companion, who was, naturally, of a firmer and more heroic cast of mind, attempted to console her, although she needed one to perform the same kindly office for herself.

“Nay, dear Alice, your brother is loyal.”

“Is that loyal?” she returned with a shriek, as her eye glanced over some of her brother’s papers, where the Pretender’s name was mentioned in glowing terms of admiration. “I knew it. James has long admired Prince Charles Edward, and frequently, when no subjects but those nearest to our hearts have been introduced, he has spoken so feelingly of the royal youth’s exile in France. When the news of his landing in Scotland reached us, an involuntary exclamation escaped James, and he prayed for his safety, aye, even for his success. Nay, I cannot divine any other motive for his absence from the University, than to obtain leisure to watch the progress of the Prince, and, at a fitting time, to join his standard. But hush, let us be cheerful, for I hear my father’s footsteps, and he is impatient at my brother’s absence.”

The old man entered. Katharine Norton rose to meet him, and he addressed her kindly, as was his wont. But the smoothness of his manner soon disappeared. In person, Dr. Dawson was tall and thin, though very much bowed down by age, but now his form became erect. He had a lofty forehead, on which a few white locks were sprinkled. His hands were palsied, but now, by the strength of his feelings, they were nerved, and he stood forth, firm and collected. He had dark eyes, which had not lost the fire of his youth; and which seemed to become brighter and brighter, by looking at his gold. He was not altogether a miser, for he, as we have already stated, loved his children occasionally, and even displayed bursts of tenderness and affection; but his idols must be of gold, as well as of flesh and blood. Ever since he was married, pretty fingers must have gold rings, before he could admire them, and in his profession, he had often been prevented from feeling the pulse for some time, so much absorbed was his attention by the diamonds which glittered.

After addressing Katharine, he turned to his daughter, “Alice, where is your brother, has he not returned yet? I must wait for him, considerate youth, although these aged limbs should long ere now, have been reposing on my couch! I have no staff but this cane, and money bought it. Money can do any thing but make children obedient, except to close a parent’s eyes, and that they gladly attend to. Come, affectionate youth, and see me die!” and he laughed hysterically, in scorn and anger.

The two ladies supported and caressed him fondly, compelled him to sit down, and almost smothered him with kisses. The old man could not forbear smiling. “Ah, innocents, you would sooner heap them on my son.”

“Nay, dear father,” returned Alice, in a merry tone, “a different treatment from us awaits him, when he arrives.”

Her father heard her not, for he had relapsed once more into a fit of passion, and he walked across the room, stamping violently.

“And I must totter on my cane, at my kind son’s inclination, and he must dance so merrily, to give me pain. Oh! how fondly he is now speaking to his fair partner, and doubtless requesting her not to allow herself to be too much fatigued. He takes her to a recess, lest she be weary with the dance; but his poor old father must watch for him all the night. It matters not how weary I be. No, no, I do my son wrong, great wrong. He wishes me to be at rest,--in my grave. How kind! Nay, daughter, speak not in his favour. Hark to the sounds of revelry around him. Sweet they are to his ears, almost as sweet as my dying words.”

He looked around the room as minutely as if he had anticipated conspirators and ruffians to start forth, at his son’s commission, and take his life. He examined the desk, as if he expected to discover poison purchased for him. He trembled as he took out a brace of pistols, and scarcely dared to ascertain whether they were charged or not. He dusted the books in the library, and glanced over many of the title-pages, as if he were certain to lay hold of a treatise on the duty and necessity of parricide. He would not allow the ladies to speak, but he harshly interrupted them. They seemed to be like thoughts in his own mind, which were unwelcome, and which, therefore, he had the power and the right of forbidding and preventing.

“If he should not return,” he muttered as he paced more calmly across the room, “my executors will not be troubled with his name in the will, and this may ease the dog of a good bone; yes, very prudent of the young man to stay from home, very.”

“Father!” exclaimed Alice.

“Father me not,” he returned furiously, “or mock me with the name but a little longer. Oh--” and tears flowed down his cheeks as he went to the door, “no dreams of gold to night, no money bags; a halter around my son’s neck, and that son a rebel!”

“Father, weep not. All shall yet be well with James. I cannot endure these tears, you once told me that you had not one; that although your hopes were gone for ever, you had not a tear to give them; that you had not mourning apparel to attend them to their grave!”

He harshly repulsed her, and retired to his own apartment.

The hour of midnight was now chiming. The drum and music had ceased for a few minutes, and the town clocks were distinctly heard; but instantly, upon the stroke, the revelry in the streets commenced afresh, and the mob became still more noisy than before. The light of torches glared in upon them, and for a moment they hid their faces from it, as from something unpleasant and unwelcome. Alice started up, and proposed that she should lead her companion to their room for the night, where she promised soon to join her. Katharine consented, although her fears were so much excited, that she knew sleep to be hopeless and impossible. As Alice returned, she wrapped herself closely in a cloak, and was descending to the door, when she listened at that of her father’s room, and hearing no noise or motion, entered. She beheld him asleep on the sofa, and his breathing was difficult. A table was drawn to his side, and on it lay a portrait of his son, in the character of Hamlet; taken when he bore a prominent part in the histrionic displays of the University. It was in the scene when the Prince of Denmark has become thoroughly convinced that his uncle is the murderer of the former king, and when he glories in the idea, that by the players he has forced conviction into the villain’s heart, and when his mother appears to charge him with his conduct towards that uncle. Her words were written (and the ink was not yet dry) beneath the portrait, “Hamlet, you have your father much offended,” and old Dawson’s shrivelled and white hand was placed pointing to them. This proof of affection, revenge, and imbecility, all mingled together, overcame Alice. For a moment she sunk down upon the couch beside her father, and gently kissed him. She then removed the cane from his grasp, and covered his venerable head. He started up in his dreams, but his eyes were shut.

“My son! oh! will none save him. None? Take my gold--yes all of it. It will forge chains as heavy and as long, as these dismal iron ones, which now bind his tender limbs; aye the body which my own Helen gave me, is shackled. Take my gold, there is the key to my chests, ransack them, and sell me. The gold will make a chamber as large as that horrible cell! Oh! will none save my beautiful boy?”

“I will, I will,” exclaimed his daughter, and she rushed out of the room. She summoned her own waiting maid, to watch over the old man, and then she herself, alone, unattended, left the house to seek her brother through the crowd. The night was beautiful and clear in the sky above, and its lights were brilliant, yet soft; but the illuminations of the town, threw their glare over all around, and completely shamed the stars. Not a breeze was felt, but the wafting of the flames. As the lights in the windows were now almost expiring, and pale faces were seen within, watching by them,--to the imagination an ominous fate for the Pretender seemed to be predicted. But bonfires were blazing in every street, and figures were crowding around them, and rubbing their hands, and dancing in extravagant mirth. The gleam of arms was reflected from soldiers, mingling along with the mob. Crowds were perpetually hurrying past, to behold and make other sights. Not a child, or a woman was to be seen; but all were men, intoxicated and raging, or moving on, more helpless than infants. This almost served to frighten Alice, as she held her way through the midst of them, coming into contact with the rude touch of daring strength, or the feeble clutch of old age; yet none interrupted her, save to stare upon her earnest countenance, so young, beautiful, and innocent. Many even seemed disposed to join and escort her to the place of her destination, wherever that might be. Some rather loud whispers were heard, asserting that she must be a friend of the Pretender, proceeding on the errand of blessing, and cheering him, on his dangerous expedition. Still she moved on, apparently indifferent to every thing which might otherwise have been annoying, when some one gently took her by the hand. Suppressing a shriek she started back in terror. But it was a young female who had ventured upon such a liberty, and Alice immediately recognized the young and blind Prophetess of the vale, who said in a quick but low tone,--

“I cannot, young lady, see your face, but your hand is feverish, and your heart is throbbing. And the hour is so late, and the street crowded. Yes, my prophecy will be fulfilled.”

Alice felt that it would, as she listened to her voice, and gazed upon her face. Her features seemed altogether to have lost their happy expression. They were still sweet; but clouded, and sad. “This light,” she resumed, “is not pleasant. It is not that of mountain, vale, and stream. Ah! I heard the young chieftain’s step, so gallant, light, and free; but the cockade waved over his head. Royal was his voice, for I knew something of courts, in another clime. And your brother?--you are now in search of him. I need not inquire. Darkness and death are around all his relations. Start not. He is a rebel, and now pledges, in the presence of Charles Edward, his allegiance to the family of Stuart. Oh, why should I know names and events? Happy I was, when life for me was but to think and feel. But fair one, come on, embrace your brother once more, Come,” and she almost dragged the sinking Alice forward, to hasten her steps. They soon arrived at the Pretender’s palace, but it was guarded by a close band of Highland soldiers. They made a passage however, for them, when Alice shortly explained the purpose of their coming.

“Ay fair lady,” said one “step in, your brother is now Captain Dawson, and a brave and gallant Southern he is.”

“It is true then!” Alice exclaimed with a shriek, while she hid her face in her hands, “he is a traitor and we are all ruined.”

“A traitor!” fiercely exclaimed a kilted mountaineer, whose fiery eyes peered through his shaggy eyebrows, as he rudely grasped her with his left hand, while his right sought the deadly weapon--“Be canny, noo, my leddie, lest Tonald’s tirk may pe seeking te right side o’ te question. Tat pe te way tat Englishers speak of der lawfu Sovereign, tat day must call his gude friends traitors!”

Alice Dawson looked unmoved upon the specimen of barbarous brutality. Her eye gleamed indignantly; which the Scot observing, drily rejoined, by taking his hands from off her and saying, “Is she after wishing to frighten Tonald? Hech, hech! She canna tak te preeks off te Heelandman: and faith Tonald canna tak them off her.”

“She’s a traitoress,” exclaimed one of the Lowlanders, whose face might have been mistaken for a smoke-dried ham, for he was the only ill favoured soldier in the company.

“Hold,” thundered forth one of their leaders, who came out from the palace, and his fiery eye rebuked the rude soldiers, who had gathered round to support their comrades, in whatever they might be pleased to do, against the unprotected Alice, and her companion; “cowards, to attack and frighten a lady! It would be gallantry,” he added, turning to the Lowlander, “were you to show your back to a lady, and conceal that face of yours. She would excuse you, for in your case it would not be considered as a breach of manners. Manners! but what know you of manners? Fair lady, my sentinel informs me that you seek your brother, who is a captain in the Manchester regiment, this day enlisted, as volunteers, in the Prince’s cause. See, they make a way for you. Step in.”

The young soldier who spoke, was Hector McLean, a leader of the north, and one of the many Scottish gentlemen of rank, who, for their ready attachment to his cause, had been knighted by the Pretender. The accent of his country was slightly perceptible, and there was something so friendly in his voice, that Alice halted, to obtain some further information concerning her brother, or some directions by which she might be guided to him; and her companion, who had been altogether silent, seemingly absorbed in her own thoughts, did not urge her on. But as her eyes fell upon the handsome form of the knight, so martial in his bearing, although but of slender proportions, she blushed deeply, and half repented that she had not forthwith entered. He doffed his bonnet, gallantly, and respectfully, as she stood before him,--announced his name, and offered her his services. “Fair lady, you appear to have been in tears. Are they shed for your brother? Think not by any eloquence, aye, even that of affection, to turn him from his purpose, and make him insensible to his duty. His sovereign has a claim prior to his sister. And could you deprive the brave Chevalier of a hope of victory?”

“He has left an aged and infirm father,” sobbed Alice, “and we are unprotected. He himself is not inured to war, for the cloisters of a college have been his only camp. Oh! gallant knight,” and she looked up, with a countenance, as innocent and artless as it was mournful, “entreat my brother to return!”

“I must deny you,” he gently replied. “The captain is an acquisition, and already has gained the confidence of the Prince. Your fair brow, may be soon encircled with honours, won by your brother, from a grateful master. When you have seen him, you shall return home, and pray for his safety, and that of the Prince.”

As he spoke, Alice felt her companion shudder. The young Prophetess knelt down, and muttered some words in a low, but wild tone. Rising up, she drew Alice closer to her, and madly exclaimed,--

“Almighty One, keep her alone, join not their fates--but ah! it cannot be! Brother and lover will ruin her, and death, death is her lot. The poison is to lurk in every sweet rose, for you. I know it. And she, the beautiful one, your companion in the vale, now too must see her dream vanish. Oh, _their_ heads mount the poles in the public streets. I cannot see them; thank God, yours shall be spared such scorn, but languid for many a night shall they lie on the pillow, and then, they must find rest in an early grave.”

She twined herself around Alice, kissed her cheeks, and wept.

The chieftain stood silent and astonished, not being able to comprehend the scene; but Alice trembled, and almost sunk to the ground. He placed her hand within his. “Come, and you will straightway have an interview with him. He is now closeted with the Prince, and his officers, consulting together upon some military plans.”

They entered:--the inside of the palace was fitted up with great magnificence; and the spacious hall of audience was adorned with portraits of the Stuart family, on which the lights were gleaming brightly, and but for the gilded and embossed frames, they might have been mistaken for the living sovereigns, who, by nature, were endowed with the highest talents to sway an empire, but whose imprudence and licentiousness expelled them from the throne. The beautiful Queen of Scotland shone forth with a loveliness which none but a royal old maid and prude, could have doomed to death. She, who had been the wife of three husbands, still seemed to have more love and affection in those bright features, than the Holy Virgin of England, who never had a lover. The first Charles was painted there, as he stood on the scaffold, and his eyes were raised joyfully from the block, to see, in vision, the crown of heaven, which no weapon could take from the Lord’s annointed. The light threw a beautiful longing of immortality over his features. At the further end of the hall, hanging from the ceiling to the floor, was a green silk curtain, behind which was the door leading to the Chevalier’s apartments. This was the only screen from the face of royalty. Sir Hector, however, led Alice through a sliding, at the right wing, and stood, for a little, opposite to a door, above which were the Prince’s arms. At that moment it opened, and Charles Edward, with young Dawson, appeared. The latter rushed into the embrace of his sister. She beheld the uniform, and her hand was upon the sash by which he was belted, still she clung fondly to him, although she could not utter a word. Sir Hector McLean gave the Pretender an explanation; who, stepping up, gently took the hand of Alice.

“Lady, bless your brother, and the cause he supports. Blame him not; you cannot call me a rebel, and he must, therefore, be loyal. Captain, comfort your sister.”

“And who shall comfort thee?” sadly asked the blind child. “Oh, never, never, can you mount the throne.”

“Who is she? She is pale for me and my woes. See, the tears are trickling down these cheeks. Perhaps blood, the blood of my friends, may flow freely in my cause. God knows that my own heart is sad, even for a tear on the face of another, for my sake. But hark, my leaders are gay in the dance!” So kindly did the Prince soothe the feelings of Alice, that when he retired, she was prepared even to give comfort to her brother, when he spoke of Katharine. She could not, however, persuade him to accompany her home, and obtain their father’s forgiveness, and Katharine’s blessing.

“I dare not. I could not leave you all alone and unprotected. How could I part from you, in the home of our past life? I must see Katharine once more, but not there. But you, oh, what dangers you have undergone this night for me, Alice! My heart breaks, awful forebodings creep over my soul, at the sight of this blind girl. I dare not see you home, and yet, to expose you--”

“Nay, captain,” kindly rejoined Sir Hector, “I should feel honoured, would your fair sister accept of my protection.”

“Thanks, my noble friend; watch over her. The clock strikes the hour of one. Sleep, Alice, and think not of our woes. We shall meet again in happier times. One more embrace, dear girl; give my love to Katharine, and my obedience to my father. I may see them before the Prince leaves Manchester. Farewell. Sir Hector--”

“Say not a word, captain. I shall guard her as I would the Chevalier. Now, fair lady,”--and he almost dragged her from the arms of her brother.

As they reached the door, she looked round for her companion--but she was gone!

When his sister left him, Captain Dawson in vain sought comfort in the room where all the officers were assembled for mirth and the dance. His spirits were sunk, and into every bright scene which hope conjured up, his aged parent and his unprotected sister entered, and stood looking upon him, and yet he could not approach them. He believed, however, that to his country he was not acting the part of a traitor, for he wished to restore to it the descendant of its ancient rulers. Sometimes, too, the quiet retirement which he had formerly enjoyed within the cloisters of the college, arose to his mind, and now, when surrounded by arms, with the glory of strife before him in all probability, the arts of peace appeared more noble and worthy of attainment. He retired to the apartment which was assigned to him; but there, grief almost reached the point of delirium, and the young soldier wept on his pillow. He heard a knock at the door, and then Sir Hector McLean entered.

“Hast thou seen her home in safety? Oh! Alice, I have broken your heart, and murdered my father; aye, and myself, and my own Katharine too! Could I stay for months at home, to watch this opportunity, and mutiny against the peace of all whom I love!”

“Your sister,” was the reply, “is safe in her father’s house, nor is her anguish so wild as when you saw her. She fondly believes (and may it prove true, Dawson,) that soon the strife shall be finally settled; and then comes the soldier’s home, after all his hardships and dangers; then come tears of joy, so different from those at parting for the present.”

Young Dawson took the hand of Sir Hector, and pressed it in gratitude. He was almost deceived for a time, it felt so like the touch of Alice, and when he mentioned this, his friend laughed, and said,--

“Perhaps I may have held her pretty hand within mine so long as to catch its virtue. Nay, let not a suspicion cloud thy brow, I would not pay one act of unmeaning gallantry, to betray; you do me wrong, Dawson. Yet, how beautiful she is!”

“Beautiful!” exclaimed Dawson, as he sprung from his couch in madness. “And must I listen to hear my sister called beautiful, by a soldier? If thy craven soul has dared to breathe one word of lawless feeling to mine Alice, tell me--and let us choose our weapons.”

As he spoke, he moved to the table on which his sword lay unsheathed, and passing his hand hastily over its edge, put himself into a posture of attack and defence. But McLean’s sword still hung by his side, and his hand was stretched forth in friendship. And yet, at the first movement, his eye had flashed, and his right foot had been violently placed in advance, for the combat.