CHAPTER XLVIII.

THE SUN SHINES AGAIN.

We entered the room where she lay, and the stillness of death was there. We approached her with reverence; and when I stretched my hand towards the veil that covered her, it was with the air of a monk displaying the sacrament, for the remains of those we love are to us the holiest of all holy things.

"Ernestine--oh, my Ernestine!" sobbed the count. I thought that the veil which shrouded her figure moved.

It was but fancy.

We stood silent, for our hearts swelled with the most intense sadness, and were filled by the memory of the past.

Language cannot portray what the count felt, for the shock was so sudden. Within one hour his pale cheek had sunk; his eyes were inflamed, and his voice trembled. The very profundity of the poor father's affliction had dried up the ordinary channels of grief, and thus no tear escaped to relieve his agony.

The face of Ernestine had still its unpleasant expression, and yet, amid its awful stillness, I could have sworn a spasm contracted it.

The coffin was preparing; two of Spynie's soldiers were making it.

For a time the count was like a statue; frozen, impassible. I have said his grief was of that kind which had neither tears nor words. It escaped in deep, dry, agonizing sobs, and he clenched his nether lip with his teeth till the blood came.

"Blessed God, thou triest me sorely! Both are gone! both gone now!--and I am alone in this wide, dreary world again. At my age 'tis said we cannot weep."

In brief terms, I informed the count of the relationship between us, and how Ernestine and I had discovered at Nyekiöbing, that he was my long lost uncle, Philip--and she my cousin. He gazed at me as if he thought I raved; then he seemed to be convinced, and then dismissed it from his mind; for surprise, regard, and all minor emotions, had shrunk before the tornado of great and overwhelming grief.

"How long has she been dead?" he asked, in a low and husky voice.

"Since yesterday at noon--yesterday morning, she was alive and spoke to me."

The tears now burst from the eyes of the old soldier, and, stooping over the body, he embraced and kissed it.

Suddenly he uttered a cry, and turned to me with wildness and astonishment in his eyes.

"She is warm--she lives! Ernestine! Ernestine!"

I sprang to his side, and clasped one of her hands in mine. _It was quite warm!_

There was a convulsive motion in her fingers and feet; she opened her eyes, and a faint sigh escaped her; joy and terror bewildered me for a moment. Then I rushed away in search of a surgeon. Hurrying through the streets bareheaded, and without sword, scarf, or doublet, the first I met was no other than old Pennicuik. He thought me seized by delirium; but accompanied me without delay to the room of Ernestine, who seemed to be again hovering between life and death.

How dimly and confusedly that new day of terror, grief, and joy floats before me! I was like one who suffered from vertigo; I do not think I had the full use of my senses. Pennicuik immediately ordered all the windows to be opened; he took the pillows from under her head; he bathed her temples with Hungary water, _eau de luce_, and warm brandy; he spunged her little hands and snow white arms in vinegar and warm water; and a little wine was gently poured between her lips. Then, after the fashion of the female nurses at the Altenburg hospital, he blew air into her lungs by the nostrils.

In two days she was so fully restored to life as to be able to relate to us all her sensations, some of which were very remarkable.

She had dreamed that she was dead, and yet was sensible of all that passed around her. At times it seemed as if her spirit left her body, and yet remained near it--appearing to hover over that which it had no longer the power to move. When I kissed her, and closed her eyes, she had felt the touch of my hand without having the power of opening her eyes again. The horror of being buried alive occasioned her the utmost agony; and when she heard persons moving about her--when she heard sounds in the street, especially the jangle of the death-cart bell, her _unexpressed_ agitation was terrible; but her soul could no longer act upon her fettered tongue, and she felt icy cold. Hence those spasmodic contractions of feature which I had actually seen, but thought were the result of my own disturbed fancy. The approach of her father, and the sound of his voice, gave a new impulse to her almost prostrate mind; it resumed its wonted power over her weakened organisation, and produced the sudden warmth which had startled him, when he thought he was embracing her for the last time.

Language has no power to describe the joy of such a restoration, as it seemed, from the very jaws of the grave; but it formed the subject of two sermons--one preached by Father Ignatius, and the other by the reverend Gideon Geddes, who construed the affair very differently; for the Jesuit affirmed that she had been restored to life by virtue of certain blessed reliques which he had cunningly slipped below her pillow; while the Presbyterian declared that she had merely been restored to existence, that she might live to see the errors of popery and its ways; and if the reader partake my joy and satisfaction, he or she will pardon my having kept them behind the curtain for a single chapter.

Little more remains to be told.

Rendered desperate by the successive defeats he had sustained since the battle of Lütter, Christian IV. was compelled, at the conference of Lubeck in 1629, to accede to the terms of a treaty of peace offered by the great Duke of Friedland, who then restored to Denmark all that he and Tilly had taken beyond the Elbe; and the siege of Gluckstadt, which had been so valiantly defended by the Scottish cavaliers of Sir David Drummond, was raised. The conditions imposed upon Christian were, that he should no more interfere in the German affairs than he was entitled to do as Count of Holstein; that on no pretext was he to enter the circles of Lower Germany; that he was to leave the weak and timid family of the palatine to its fate; and that the Scottish troops in his service were to quit it forthwith.

Thus, by a strange combination of misfortunes, was the most gallant of the Danish monarchs compelled to retire ingloriously from the great arena of the German war.

After thanking us for our services, he bade us adieu, and I saw the tears glisten in the only eye that war had left him. He sailed--not to rejoin his queen, who always met him with coldness in his reverses--but to seek the society and solace of the fair Countess of Fehmarn, his wife of the left-hand; who, whether in victory or defeat, had ever welcomed him with joy, gratitude, and love.

Repulsed, as related, in his last attempt to obtain Stralsund by assault, the great and ambitious Duke Albrecht, after a four months' siege, in which he lost upwards of twelve thousand of his best and bravest soldiers, was compelled to spike his cannon, burn his camp, destroy his baggage, and retreat into Saxony, thus acknowledging that neither his skill nor his mighty host had availed him before the valour of Marshal Leslie's Scottish garrison.

The plague passed away with him, and health, happiness, (and fresh provisions,) all flowed together into Stralsund. The good and industrious citizens resumed their wonted occupations; and, so sensible were they of the protection our swords had afforded, that they made old Field-marshal Leslie a magnificent present of silver-plate, and ordered medals* to be struck in honour of the Scottish troops.

* Some of these are still (I believe) in possession of the Leven family.

It was arranged that the Highland regiment of Strathnaver, then reduced to about four hundred men, should enter the Swedish service with Sir Alexander Leslie, and that all the Scottish and French volunteers who served King Christian, should accompany them; but as Ian Dhu and I had seen enough of the German wars to enable us to acquit ourselves in Scottish society at home; and, moreover, as a cloud was darkening in the political horizon of the north, we took a sad farewell of the brave fellows we had led in so many arduous encounters, and prepared to return to our native glens. The count prepared to accompany us.

"I am now sick of war," said he; "and, as King Jamie said of old, have a salmon-like instinct to revisit the place of my nativity."

Aware that reverses of fortune might one day come upon him, and that his estates of Carlstein, Giezar, and Kœningratz in Bohemia, were perhaps little better than so many castles in the air, the count, like a wary old soldier, had gradually secured vast sums in the hands of those famous and wealthy merchants, Thomas Watson of Leith, and Herr Dübbelsteirn of Glückstadt. Thus he was as independent of the family at Craigrollo as I; for, on my marriage with Ernestine (which we had arranged should take place in the old kirk of St. Regulus at home), I would receive a handsome share of the count's prize-money, which would form a very reputable estate, the more so if we could secure the two baronies of poor Kœningheim; but I feared that would be no easy matter, as various real or imaginary relations had already possessed themselves of all his towers and places of strength.

However, we fully hoped to be able to give direct contradiction to the old prophecy anent the family heirloom, and the absurd assertion that never a Rollo throve in this world if his mouth was unable to receive its mighty disc.

I shall never forget the day on which we marched from Stralsund; for we all embarked together. My dear comrades to enter on the long and glorious career of the new German war; Ernestine, the count, Ian, and myself, with Phadrig Mhor, to return to old Scotland; for Ian was to be married to his Moina, and Phadrig remembered that there was a lint-locked lassie in Strathdee, who would be very well pleased if again he came back to her and the green forests of Braemar.

Ernestine had fully recovered, and had become more beautiful and radiant than ever.

She wept when honest Father Ignatius lifted up his long bony hands and blessed her, before departing, staff in hand, as he said, "like St. Argobastus the Scot," on his lonely pilgrimage after the Imperial host.

The Swedish fleet lay at anchor in the Sound to receive the regiment, which my heart bled to leave.

The good ship _Scottish Crown_, with all her sails loose, and a spring upon her cable, waited to receive us.

On one side lay the deserted trenches and dismantled batteries of the discomfited Wallenstein; here lay a brass cannon with the moss upon its muzzle; there a mound, where the fresh grass sprouted above the calm repose of the dead, and the autumn flowers expanded in the morning sunshine.

On the other side rose busy Stralsund, its shining walls decorated by silken banners, and its church-bells tolling merrily; for now, war, disease, and desolation, had passed away together.

Between, lay the blue waters of the narrow Sound, where the white sails of the Scottish and Swedish ships were flapping in the morning wind.

By the round archway, by the stony streets, and the frowning bastions, our hoarse drums beat merrily, and the shrill fife, with the proud war-pipe of the Gaël, rang upon the breeze; the green tartan waved, and the silken banners with the Red Lion and the Silver Cross rustled above our heads. All our hearts beat high with hope and ardour; and yet it was not without a sigh of regret for the brave Scottish hearts that had grown cold for ever beneath Jaromar's walls, that we marched down to the crowded and sunny beach for embarkation.

NOTES.

THE SCOTS IN DENMARK.

Some account of the Scottish troops who went to Denmark about 1625, will be found in the "Memoirs of Sir John Hepburn," recently published by the author of this work. They appear to have mustered as follows:--

Men. The regiment of Sir Donald Mackay of Farr 1500 Colonel Sir James Leslie's regiment 1000 Alexander Seaton's 500 The regiment of the Earl of Nithsdale, three Batts 3000 The regiment of Alexander Lord Spynie, three Batts 3000 The regiment of Sir James Sinclair of Murkle, ditto 3000

These 12,000 men were independent of 3000 sent by Scotland to the Isle Rhé, and about 13,000 more who entered the service of Gustavus Adolphus, while at the same time many of the Scottish Catholics flocked to the standard of the Emperor Ferdinand II.

THE SCOTTISH FLAG.

"The regiment received colors," says Colonel Munro, "wheron His Majestie (Christian IV.) would have the officers to carry the Danes Crosse, which the officers refusing, they were summoned to compeare before his Majestie at Raynesberge, to know the reason of their refusall--and for the eschewing of greater inconvenience, the officers desired so much time of his Majestie, as to send Captaine Robert Ennis into England, to know his Majestie of Great Britaine's will, whether or no they might carrie without reproach the Danish crosse in _Scottish Colors_." Answer was returned, that they should obey the orders of him they served.--See _Munro's Expedition with Machay's Regiment_. Published 1637.

THE HIGHLAND PURSE.

Macnab, of Macnab, presented to the Scottish Antiquaries, in 1783, a Highland-purse clasp, exactly similar to that described as being worn by Philip Rollo. This suggested to Scott a similar clasp for guarding the sporran of Rob Roy, who said to Bailie Jarvie, "I would advise no man to attempt opening this sporran till he has my secret."

The story of the Lily of Culbleine is an ancient Scottish tradition: her grave is still shown in her native parish; and many of the characters mentioned in the foregoing pages were all persons who really existed at the time. I may particularly instance Dr. Pennicuik of Newhall and that Ilk, an account of whom will be found in the _Scots Magazine_ for 1805. Other names, such as Sir Alexander Leslie's, belong to the history of Scotland, and require no comment. Bandolo is also a real character; and his double assassinations at Naples are veritable history.

THE ROLLO SPOON.

The idea of this quaint heirloom is taken from a similar one preserved by the ancient family of Crauford of Cowdenhill. It is of silver, measuring three inches wide in the mouth, and inscribed--

"_This spoon I leave in legacie, To the maist mouthed Crauford after me._ 1480."

MACKAY'S OFFICERS.

Some idea of the service seen by the regiment of Strathnaver, may be gathered from the following list of its officers, who were wounded or lost their lives in the service of Christian IV. of Denmark, between August 1626, and August 1629. It is made up from Munro, and others.

Colonel Sir Donald Mackay, Bart., scorched by powder at the defence of Oldenburg.

Lieutenant-Colonels Seaton, and Arthur Forbes, wounded at Oldenburg.

Major Dumbar, slain defending Boitzenburg.

Captain Boswal, slain by the boors in Bremen.

Captain John Learmonth of Balcomie, wounded twice by musket-balls at Boitzenburg, and died in consequence at Hamburg.

Captain Sir Patrick M'Gie received a wound at Oldenburg, of which he died at Copenhagen.

Captain John Forbes of Tulloch, wounded at Oldenburg,

Captain Robert Munro, wounded in the knee at Oldenburg.

Captain Duncan Forbes, killed at Bredenburg.

Captain Duncan Carmichael, killed at Bredenburg.

Captain Thomas Mackenzie of Kildon (Lord Seaforth's brother), wounded in the legs at Eckernfiörde.

Captain Thomas Armis, wounded at the siege of Stralsund.

Captain Andrew Munro, also wounded there; and afterwards slain in single combat by the Count of Rantzau, in the Isle of Fehmarn.

Captain Lieutenant Kerr, wounded in an arm at Eckernfiörde.

Lieutenant David Martin, killed at Boitzenburg.

Lieutenant Hugh Ross, lost a leg by a cannon-shot at Oldenburg.

Lieutenant Andrew Stewart (brother of John, first Earl of Traquair) received a wound at Oldenburg, and died of it at Copenhagen.

Lieutenant Andrew Barbour, killed at Bredenburg,

Lieutenant David Munro, scorched by powder when blowing up the church at Eckernfiörde.

Lieutenant David Beaton, wounded at Stralsund.

Lieutenant Arthur Arbuthnot, also wounded there.

Ensign Innes, wounded at Oldenburg, and slain at Stralsund.

Ensign Seaton, wounded at Oldenburg, and slain at Stralsund.

Ensign Stewart, wounded at Oldenburg.

Ensign Gordon, wounded at Oldenburg.

Ensign David Munro, wounded at Oldenburg.

Ensign Patrick Dunbar, wounded at Stralsund.

Quarter-master Bruntisfield, wounded at Stralsund, where 500 of the Highlanders were killed.

Chaplain, killed at Bredenburg.

The regiment had more than 30 officers killed and wounded in three years; and lost more than 1000 privates in the same short space of time.

THE END.

M'CORQUODALE AND CO., PRINTERS, LONDON--WORKS, NEWTON.