Part 8

So tall was this personage, who, like all the others was arrayed in full Highland costume, that he towered almost head and shoulders above those in front of him, and of course could easily be distinguished.

“'Tis Brigadier Mackintosh to whom I specially alluded,” said the earl. “He has had sufficient experience, for he has served, and with the greatest distinction, in Holland, Ireland, and France. I shall have a word to say to him anon.”

Then addressing the Marquis of Huntly, he said:

“I would not deprive myself of the great satisfaction your lordship has just given me, but I must mention that I had previously received a commission from King James, appointing me his lieutenant-general.”

And taking a letter from his breast, he placed it in his lordship's hands.

“This confirms our choice,” said the marquis, after reading the letter aloud, amid great applause, and reiterated expressions of satisfaction from the assemblage.

“My first step,” said the earl, when silence was restored, “shall be to set up the standard at Castletown, and proclaim King James. The Fiery Cross shall then be sent round to summon the clans to war. My headquarters will be fixed at Dunkeld.”

“Within a month I will join you there with three thousand men,” said the Earl of Searforth.

“Your arrival will be impatiently expected, my lord,” said Mar. “But by that time I hope to be in possession of Perth. How many men will your father, the Duke of Athole, give us, marquis?” he added to Tullibardine.

“Very few, in comparison with Lord Seaforth,” replied the other. “But I will bring all I can.”

“The duke, I know, is lukewarm in the cause,” said Mar. “But since both his sons are pledged, there can be no fear of him.”

“None whatever,” replied Lord Charles Murray, the Duke of Athole's younger son.

Promises of substantial aid were then given by the Earls of Southesk, Panmure, and other nobles, and by the chiefs Glengarry, and Gordon of Glendarule.

Last of all came Colonel Mackintosh, head of the powerful Clan Chattan. He engaged to raise six or seven hundred well-disciplined Highlanders, but stipulated that his kinsman, Brigadier Mackintosh of Borluni, should have the command of the regiment.

“Be it so, colonel, since you desire it,” said Mar. “But I have a more important command for your brave kinsman. Tell Brigadier Mackintosh that I desire to speak to him,” he added to Colonel Hay.

On hearing this order, those who were grouped around retired to a little distance, and a vacant space was thus left for the old Highland warrior.

II.--BRIGADIER MACKINTOSH OF BORLUM.

|A VERY remarkable person was Brigadier Mackintosh, Laird of Borlum, and since he is destined to play a conspicuous part in our story, it may be proper to describe him.

The redoubted Laird of Borlum, then, was an old campaigner, having served in Holland years ago, in Ireland under James the Second, where he gained laurels, but little pay, and in France, where he had attained the rank of brigadier, which he still held. Devotedly attached to James the Second, on the death of that monarch, he had transferred all his loyalty to his son. The Chevalier de Saint George had no more zealous adherent than the brave Laird of Borlum.

Brigadier Mackintosh, when we first behold him, standing beside the Earl of Mar, who had quitted his elevated position on the rock to talk to him, could not be far from sixty. Yet despite the hardships he had undergone, he had few traces of age about him. His step was free, his glance piercing, his muscular power prodigious, and he could still run as fleetly, and endure as much fatigue as the youngest of his clan.

His personal appearance was very striking--features strongly marked and prominent, high cheek bones, a very firmly set mouth, and square chin. His eyes were grey and keen, and shaded by black brows, though his locks were blanched. His close-shaven cheeks were marked by many a scar.

The brigadier's expression was cautious, perhaps crafty, and sometimes so grim as to inspire terror. But on occasions his habitual sternness disappeared, and gave way to a winning _bonhomie_. Though a rigorous disciplinarian, he had always been liked by those who served under him. His enemies said that the brigadier did not object to plunder, and that his maxim was that war should pay its own expenses; but this was a principle pretty generally recognised by the Highlanders of the period.

“Why have you kept aloof, brigadier?” asked the earl.

“Because your lordship has others of mair importance to attend to than an auld trooper, who has only his sword to offer you.”

“Hout awa! your sword is worth a thousand men, brigadier, and that ye ken fu' weel. You are the man of all others I must have with me, heart and hand.”

“I am a man of few words as your lordship kens--I am ready to do your bidding.”

“Aweel then, your kinsman, Colonel Mackintosh, has promised to raise a regiment of six or seven hundred Highland men.”

“And so wad I, if I could only find the callants. But they are few and far to seek at Borlum.”

“What say you to taking the command of the Clan Chattan?”

“That belongs to our chief, unless----”

“He chooses to resign it to another, and I approve his choice. Will you take it?”

“Gladly,” replied the brigadier, his eyes sparkling with satisfaction. “Is this a' your lordship has to say to me, at present?”

“Ye are in a confounded hurry,” cried the earl, detaining him. “Hear me to an end.”

“My lord, I am all attention.”

“When all our forces have assembled, a strong detachment, to consist of five or six regiments, will be sent south to march with the Lowlanders and the Northumbrian insurgents to London. You shall command the detachment. If any man can make a rapid march, you can, brigadier. Long before you reach London, you will have a considerable army, for you are certain to receive large reinforcements in every county through which you pass--especially in Lancashire and Cheshire. You will, therefore, be able to give battle to all the forces the Hanoverian usurper can bring against you. Win that battle and the crown is gained for the prince.”

The brigadier drew his broadsword and kissed the hilt.

“I swear to devote myself to this enterprise!” he cried. “Turn back who may, I never will!”

Thereupon he bowed and retired, looking greatly elated.

III.--HOW THE STANDARD WAS SET UP, AND KING JAMES PROCLAIMED AT CASTLETOWN.

|SHORTLY afterwards the whole party proceeded to the castle, where a grand banquet awaited them.

Even more wine was drunk on this occasion than on the previous day, and the company vied with each other in demonstrations of loyalty.

But the crowning act, that was to confound their enemies and confirm their friends, took place on the following day. The whole party assembled after breakfast, but without hounds or huntsmen.

A dozen sturdy bagpipers made the court ring with their shrill strains, announcing that the Earl of Mar was about to proceed to Castletown, which was not more than a mile off, attended by all the nobles and chiefs, and all their vassals and retainers, to set up the standard and proclaim King James.

The principal personages were on horseback--the rest on foot. At the head of the cavalcade was the Earl of Mar, and on his right rode Lord Charles Murray, who carried the standard.

The standard, which made a very splendid appearance, and excited general admiration, was of blue satin, embroidered on one side with the arms of Scotland in gold. On the other side was a thistle, underneath which were the words, “No Union.”

Pendants of white ribbon were attached to the banner: one of them bore the inscription, “For our wronged king and oppressed country;” the other, “For our lives and liberties.”

The pipers marched on in advance, playing vigorously.

The morning was fine, but gusty, and Craigendarroch seemed to frown upon them. Several Highlanders joined the party as they marched on, and some old men, barelegged women, young girls, and children followed at a distance. But there were few inhabitants in that wild region.

On reaching Castletown, the cavalcade rode into the market-place, where all the townsfolk were assembled, and the pipers, who had marched in first and taken up a good position, played with redoubled vigour, while the standard was set up on the market-cross.

A loud shout was then raised by the whole concourse, after which silence was authoritatively enjoined, and, a trumpet being sounded, the Earl of Mar read the proclamation in a loud clear voice that vibrated through every breast.

“By the decease of the late King James the Seventh, the imperial crown of these realms has lineally descended to his lawful heir and son our sovereign James the Eighth, and we the lords and others do accordingly declare him to be the lawful king over Scotland, England, and Ireland. We are bound by unalienable right to his family and person, and it is to be lamented that our fundamental constitution has been destroyed by factions. The unhappy Union of Scotland and England is also to be deeply lamented--with many other matters, such as the bringing in a foreign prince unacquainted with British planners, customs, and language--the support of his designs by foreign troops--and the contempt with which the military services of British troops are treated. We are determined to resort to the last extremities in order to remedy these grievances, and have our laws, liberties, and properties secured by the Parliaments of both kingdoms. In conclusion, we hope that, undisturbed by a Usurper's interests and council from abroad, or by a restless faction at home, the blessing and aid of Heaven will be extended to the succour of the Royal Family of Stuart and their country from sinking under oppression.”

The foregoing manifesto produced a very powerful effect, and the whole assemblage, having listened to it with profound attention, were about to give vent to their feelings, when a circumstance occurred that filled them all with superstitious terror.

By a sudden and violent gust, the silken banner was rent, and the gilded ball blown from the point of the spear, and, falling at the feet of Mar's horse, caused the animal to rear.

The greatest consternation was occasioned by this inauspicious occurrence.

Nothing but blanched faces were seen around, and the shouts died away on every lip. Men shook their heads, and said it was ominous of ill, and even Mar himself was not free from uneasiness.

“When King Charles the First's standard was blown down at Nottingham,” observed Lord Charles Murray to Brigadier Mackintosh, “it was thought to presage ill. What does this signify?”

The brigadier made no answer, but looked very grave.

The ill-omened incident cast a gloom over the party, from which they did not recover as long as they stayed together.

On quitting Castletown, the nobles and chiefs took leave of their host, and departed each to his respective home, to get together his men, and make all needful preparations for taking the field.

Subsequently, King James was proclaimed at divers other places, and once again by the Earl of Mar at Kirk-michael, near Dumfries.

Meanwhile, the whole of the Highlands were literally in a flame---the Fiery Cross having been sent round in every direction to summon the clans. Such vassals as neglected the mandate of their chief conveyed by this terrible sign--a cross, dipped in blood, and burning--were liable to the penalty of fire and sword. Rarely was the summons disobeyed, and never unpunished, until the passing of the Clan Act by the Government.

Returning slowly from Dumfries, at the head of a thousand men--more than half of whom had joined him on the way--the Earl of Mar found his camp pitched by Colonel Hamilton and Clephane of Carslogie, in a beautiful situation on the side of the Tay.

Soon afterwards, such large reinforcements were brought him by the Earls of Strathern, Southesk, Marischal, and Panmure, that he found himself at the head of twelve thousand fighting men.

A most important achievement performed at this juncture by Colonel Hay gave additional éclat to the insurgents. This gallant officer had often boasted that he would capture Perth, and he now made good his word by surprising the garrison, and enabling Mar to occupy the city. Thenceforward Perth formed the head-quarters of the Scottish commander-in-chief.

Alarmed by the rapid progress of the rebellion, the Government of King George now began to take energetic measures for the repression of the outbreak. The Duke of Argyle hastened to Stirling, where troops were quickly concentrated, in order to keep the Highlanders in check, and prevent them from crossing the Forth.

All Scottish noblemen or gentlemen, actually in arms, or suspected of favouring the Pretender, were summoned to appear forthwith in Edinburgh, and find bail for their future good conduct. But very few surrendered themselves. Most of them were eager to take the field, and displeased that Mar did not give battle to Argyle, before further succours could reach him at Stirling.

The Scottish commander-in-chief hesitated, though Colonel Hay and others of his advisers remonstrated with him. He had just received a letter from Mr. Forster, praying him to send a couple of regiments to help them to make a rising in Northumberland. This request he was quite willing to grant--indeed, he did more than was asked. He immediately sent off the detachment, which he had prepared to march through England, under the command of Brigadier Mackintosh.

END OF BOOK THE THIRD.

_BOOK THE FOURTH_--THE RISING IN NORTHUMBERLAND.

I.--DILSTON REVISITED.

|SINCE our last visit to Dilston Castle, the place had acquired a new interest from the marriage of the young Earl of Derwentwater with the beautiful Anna Webb.

The event occurred about three years previously, and was productive of unalloyed happiness to the earl, who made it his entire study to please his lovely wife. In his eyes her charms had improved, and as she was scarcely two and twenty, she might not yet have attained the point of perfection.

Mistress of this proud mansion and all belonging to it, adored by the husband, who had raised her to this exalted position, the countess ought to have been happy--and to all appearance she was so.

Yet were we to search her breast, we should find a secret sorrow there. She had made every effort to banish the feeling, but without effect. The consciousness that she had a secret from her husband troubled her, but she dared not reveal it to him. Even to Father Norham, she had not entirely laid bare her heart.

One day, when she was at confession in the small chamber, employed for her private devotions, and which was furnished with an altar and a crucifix, the good priest thus addressed her:

“I grieve to find, dear daughter, that you still keep back from the Earl, your husband, the secret that has so long weighed upon your breast. This ought not to be. He is entitled to your fullest confidence, and any concealment from him even of a trivial matter is sinful.”

“I know it, father,” she replied; “and I ardently desire to relieve my breast of its burden by disclosing all to him, and am only deterred by the fear of giving him pain.”

“Perhaps you are right, daughter,” said the priest, after some reflection. “As no good purpose can be answered by this disclosure, and it is possible it might cause temporary estrangement of the earl's affections, I will not urge you to incur that hazard. But I should be glad to learn that you have at last entirely dismissed the silly fancy which you have so long allowed to occupy your breast. Give me an assurance to that effect, and I shall be content.”

“I am far easier than I was, father,” she rejoined with a sigh. “But I have not entirely subdued the feeling.”

“Persevere, daughter, and you will succeed,” said the priest. “Fasting and prayer will do much.”

“I am willing to undergo any penance you may enjoin, father,” she replied; “and, however severe it may be, I shall not complain--provided I obtain relief.”

“With these good resolutions you cannot fail, daughter, and you shall have my best assistance.”

The good father's injunctions were strictly obeyed by the countess, and after a time she told him her breast was tranquillised.

Meantime, the earl's felicity was entirely undisturbed, except by some misgivings as to the future.

Since his marriage a remarkable change had taken place in his sentiments. At one time he had been chiefly engrossed by the thought of accomplishing the restoration of the Chevalier de Saint George, and no peril would have deterred him from making the effort. He now dreaded being engaged in a civil war. He had everything that could contribute to happiness--a lovely wife, to whom he was passionately attached--high rank, great wealth, large possessions, a splendid mansion-all of which would be sacrificed, if the enterprise should fail. The game was too hazardous--the stake too high. Never, since his marriage, had he been separated from his beautiful countess, and the thought of quitting her--even for a brief season--was intolerable. He told her of his fears, and she laughed at them.

“I should not love you half so well as I do,” she said, “if I did not believe you would fight for King James--fight for him to the death. Should a rising take place, you must join it--must take a prominent part in it.”

“Since I wedded you, dearest Anna, life has acquired such value in my eyes, that I am not disposed to throw it away lightly.”

“Do you call it throwing life away lightly to die for your king?”

“'Twould be worse than death to lose you, Anna.”

“This is mere weakness. Shut me from your heart. The king's claim is paramount. 'Twould be a crime to desert him. If you wish to preserve my love, you will draw the sword for King James, when called upon.”

And she quitted the room.

Much irritated by the scornful tone in which the countess had spoken, the earl walked forth into the wood, and did not return till he had regained his calmness. He found the countess in the garden. She received him with a smile, that dissipated any lingering feelings of anger, and no further allusion was made to the subject at the time. Still, her observations rankled in his breast and produced the effect she had designed.

He felt that if he did not support King James, he should not retain her love, and that would be a death-blow to his happiness. Whatever course he might take seemed to lead to difficulty and danger.

Fortunately, he was not called upon for an immediate decision. Another year of wedded bliss was allowed him.

Not till the expiration of that term did the storm begin to gather that was destined to burst upon his head.

II. A WARRANT ISSUED FOR THE EARL'S ARREST.

|At length the mandate came.

A letter arrived from the Chevalier de Saint George enjoining the Earl of Derwentwater to prepare for immediate action.

“So soon as the standard is set up in Scotland by Mar, you must rise,” ran the missive.

Aware that the earl had received a despatch from France, the countess flew to his cabinet, and found him pacing to and fro within it, in a state of great perturbation.

“Read that,” he said, giving her the letter.

Her cheeks flushed as she scanned it, and she exclaimed almost joyfully:

“You will obey his majesty's orders. There must be no hesitation now. If there is one man in England on whose zeal and fidelity King James ought to be able to count, it is the Earl of Derwentwater, with whom he is connected by birth, and whom he regards as a brother. Would you disappoint all the hopes he has formed of you! Shake off this worse than womanish weakness if you would not have me despise you.”

“No more!” cried the earl, almost fiercely. “You have said enough. You have hardened my breast. I care not now what ensues.”

“I am glad I have roused you,” she cried. “Had you been wanting in the hour of action, you would have been deemed a traitor to your king, and have lost the respect of all honourable men.”

Just then Father Norham entered the room.

“I fear I have come at an unlucky moment,” he said, perceiving from their looks that some misunderstanding had occurred between them; “and I would at once retire, had I not important news to communicate. I have just received private information from Newcastle that a warrant has been issued for your lordship's arrest on a charge of high treason. The officers will be here to-morrow, and as they will be accompanied by a party of horse-militia, you must either resist them or keep out of the way. Since you are not fully prepared for a rising, I would counsel the latter course.”

“And I advise resistance,” said the countess.

“No--that would precipitate the outbreak,” said the earl. “I must concert measures with my friends ere I take up arms.”

“You cannot remain in the castle, my lord,” said the priest. “A most rigorous search will be made, and if you are discovered, you will be apprehended and placed in confinement.”

“Where shall I find a secure retreat?” said the earl.

“You ought not to be too far off, in case of a sudden emergency,” said the countess.

“Your lordship would be perfectly safe in Nathan the woodcutter's hut in the thicket,” said the priest. “No one will seek you there--and even if the place should be visited, you can easily escape into the wood.”

“Nathan Blacklaw is a trusty fellow,” said the earl. “I can perfectly depend upon him. His hut will afford me an excellent hiding-place. When inquiries are made for me, the servants can say that I am gone to visit some Roman Catholic friends in Lancashire. The statement will be credited, since the magistrates must have learnt that Lord Widdrington is now staying with his brother-in-law, Mr. Townley, of Townley, in that county. I will now go and see Nathan Blacklaw, and direct him to prepare for me to-morrow morning.”

“Take me with you, I entreat!” said the countess. “I should like to see how you will be lodged in the hut. I wish I could bear you company.”

“Alas! that cannot be!” sighed the earl. “Your presence would reconcile me to any inconvenience. But it would infallibly lead to my discovery. Besides, you must be at the castle to see how things go on, and communicate with me.”

“I quite understand,” she replied.

“When my brother returns from Corbridge, acquaint him with my purpose,” said the earl to Father Norham. “I do not think he is in any danger of arrest.”

“I have received no caution respecting Mr. Charles Radclyffe,” said the priest. “I believe your lordship to be the only person threatened. But I may hear further at night, as I expect a second messenger.”

“Long before then Charles will have returned,” said the earl. “And now for the hut,” he added to the countess. “I have a melancholy foreboding that when I once quit the castle I shall never come back to it.”

“Dismiss these thoughts, my dear lord,” said the priest, “Rest assured that better days are in store for you.”

III.--THE WOODCUTTER'S HUT

|Passing through the garden, the earl and countess took a path that led them along the rocky edge of the ravine, at the bottom of which flowed the Devil's Water.

At length they reached the wood and entered a sombre alley arched over by boughs and designated the “Maiden's Walk.”

According to a legend connected with the place, a phantom wearing the form of a beautiful female was sometimes seen in the alley, and the appearance of the “Maiden” was thought to bode ill to any member of the Radclyffe family.

Not without some superstitious terror did the earl track this darksome walk. He had often been there, but had never beheld the phantom, but this seemed an occasion when, if ever, the Maiden might be expected to appear.