CHAPTER XIII.

A REVERSE.

A fredome is a noble thing! Fredome makes man to have liking; Fredome al solace to man gives, He lives at ease that frely lives. BARBOUR'S BRUCE.

Walter was still where we left him in the eleventh chapter, an inmate of the city prison.

The gloom, monotony, and degradation affected his mind, not less than the confinement and noxious vapours of the place did his health, and he felt his strength and spirit failing fast. The longing for freedom became one moment almost too intense to be borne, and the next he sank into a listless apathy, careless alike of liberty and life. And as his health suffered, and his ardour died his aspect became (though he knew it not) more haggard and ghastly on each succeeding day.

The recollection of Lilian's midnight visit, alone threw a ray of light through the gloom of his clouded fortune; over that event he mused, at times, with unalloyed pleasure. Anxiously he watched every night, animated by a faint hope that she might come again; but Lilian came no more.

"She came merely to thank me for my service, and I shall soon be forgotten," he would say; and then came vividly on his mind, the blight and disgrace which had been heaped upon him, and the abyss into which he had been cast. Keenly and bitterly he now felt his loneliness in the world. All this he might have escaped, perhaps, but for the evil offices of the malevolent Clermistonlee; and when he contemplated how dim and distant was the prospect of ever again rising even to his former humble station, his heart was wrung; for, with the fetters of a coward and slave, he felt that he possessed the soul and the fire of a hero.

"Though poor and unpretending, I was a gentleman, so far as spirit, bearing, and manners could make me. I have done nothing that is vile or dishonourable; but now, after fetters have dishonoured these hands, and prison-walls enclosed me, can I ever again look my equals in the face? Yes! and may I perish, if Randal of Clermistonlee shall not learn that in time!"

He spoke fiercely; for he had now, from very solitude, acquired a habit of uttering his thoughts aloud. He could not suppress his dread that Lilian Napier, in the present proscribed and friendless state of her family, might too easily fall into the toils of that famous and powerful roué, whose crimes and excesses, in a country so rigidly moral, were regarded with a horror and detestation, that made women generally shun his touch as they passed him in the street, and his glance by the wayside. Remembering his parting words, the bitter threat, and the fierce aspect of his visage and polecat eyes when he last beheld him, Walter was justly under considerable apprehension, that he might again be summoned before the Council, and either have his sentence altered to one of greater severity, or have its most degrading clauses carried into immediate execution. In fact, Lord Clermistonlee's temporary indisposition alone deferred such a catastrophe. Consequently day after day passed; the weeks ran on, but he never saw another face than that of a grim old city-guardsman, who each morning brought him a coarse cake, a bowl of porridge, and a pitcher of water; and, acting strictly to the tenor of his orders, withdrew without a word of greeting or condolence.

Thus day and night rolled on in weary and intense monotony, and poor Walter by turns grew more fierce and impatient, or more listless and apathetic. Sometimes he dosed and dreamed away the day, on his bed of damp and fetid straw, and by night paced slowly the floor of that little vault, every stone and joint and feature of which, became indelibly impressed on his memory.

But a crisis came sooner than he had anticipated.

One night he was roused from a deeper and heavier slumber than usual by the unwonted light of a large lamp flashing on his eyes; he started, awoke, and the glare blinded him for a moment. Three persons were close beside him. One was the odious, sinister, and hard-featured Gudeman of the establishment; the second was the old soldier who acted as javelleur; and the third was a gentleman whose lofty bearing and rich attire caused Walter to spring at once to his feet. He was a dark-complexioned and very handsome man, bordering on forty years of age; he wore a coat of rose-coloured velvet, slashed at the breast and shoulders with white satin; his breeches and stockings were of spotless white silk; his boots of pale buff, and accoutred with massive gold spurs. His voluminous black wig was shaded by his plumed Spanish hat, the band of which sparkled with brilliants; while a long rapier, gold-headed cane and diamond ring showed he was quite a man of fashion. It was George Douglas, the gallant Earl of Dunbarton.

"'Sdeath! Walter, my boy, I little thought to find you here," said he. "Faugh! this place is like the old souterrains of Alsace or Brisgau; yet here it was that the great Argyle once sojourned!"

"My Lord--my Lord!" exclaimed Walter joyfully--"how unexpected is this honour!"

"I returned only this forenoon from London."

"A long journey and a perilous, my Lord. I congratulate you on your safe return."

"Thanks, my boy. The Countess suffered much, she is so delicate, and my private coach, though carrying only six inside and six without, (beside our baggage) rumbled so heavily--but we were only five weeks on the way--a very tolerable journey."

"Very; and still, my Lord, I have heard of it being done in three; but the roads----"

"O they are pretty good now, I assure you, till one reaches the debateable land and the old boundary road at Berwick. There are bridges over most of the rivers too; but the lonely places swarm with footpads and highwaymen. Wilt believe it? we had only one break down by the way, and two encounters with gentlemen of the post. Ah! I winged one varlet near the Rerecross of Stanmore one night, and to be a soldier's wife--egad how the Countess wept! Immediately upon my arrival at Bristo, I was waited on by the Laird of Finland, who told me your story, and, as Lady Dunbarton would not rest until her young protégée was at liberty, I had to bestir myself, and so--am here."

"I am deeply indebted to your dear Countess, my Lord Earl," replied Walter with glistening eyes; "I owe her a thousand favours, which I hope circumstances will never require me to repay."

"Thou art a fine fellow, Walter," replied the Earl, striking him familiarly on the shoulder; "and thine inborn goodness of heart gains and deserves the love of all who know thee. The Countess----"

"O would that I could thank her now for years of kindness and protection, when I was a poor and forlorn little boy!" exclaimed Walter with deep feeling.

"And why not, lad? a coach awaits us at the close-head, and you are a free man."

"Free! my Lord, _free_!"

"Free as the wind, and without a stain on thy scutcheon."

"_My_ scutcheon," repeated Walter coldly. "Ah, my Lord, why jest with my nameless obscurity."

"Think not so ungenerously of me. The day shall come, Walter, when we may see the argent and bend azure of the old Fentounes of that ilk (I don't doubt the Lyon Herald will make thee a sprout of that ancient stock) quartered, collared, and mantled with your own personal achievements. Tush, lad! the wide world is all before you, and you have your sword. Think how many Scottish cavaliers of fortune have led the finest armies, and won the greatest battles, and the proudest titles in Europe! I have this moment come from the Council Chamber, where with half a dozen words, I have reversed all thy doom, and had it expunged from their black books."

"I would, noble Earl, that the same generosity had been extended to the Napiers of Bruntisfield."

"Nor was it withheld. What think you of that beautiful minx Annie Laurie of Maxwelton (I warrant thou knowest her--all our gay fellows do) waylaying me in her sedan. We met at the Cowgate Stairs, which ascend to the Parliament House, and there desiring her linkboys and liverymen to halt right in that narrow path, she vowed by every bone in her fan, I should never get to Council to-night--ha! ha! unless I pledged my word as a belted Earl to have her friends the Napiers pardoned as well as thee. A brave damsel, faith! and would do well to follow the drum. Zooks! I wish young Finland had her."

"And the Napiers----"

"Are pardoned; but they have fled, egad! nobody knows where. How exasperated Perth, Balcarris, and other high-flying cavaliers were by the influence I seemed to possess over the votes at the Board, having won alike the noble Claverhouse, the ferocious Dalyel, and that addlepated senator, Swinton of Mersington."

"Lord Dunbarton, I have no words to express my feelings."

"Pshaw! in all this affair I see only the meanness of the despicable world. Deeming thee a poor and friendless lad, whose whole hope was the fortune of war, and whose only inheritance a poor half-pike, these blustering Lords of Council did not hesitate to misuse thee shamefully. Here thou art immured and forgotten, until one comes, on whom they reckoned not, but who, in addition to a coronet, writes himself Knight of the Thistle, Commander of the Scottish Forces, and Colonel of a devoted regiment of fifteen hundred brave hearts as ever marched to battle, and lo! his wish is law, his breath bears all before it. Walter Fenton, have a soul above the petty injuries of lordlings such as these, and cock thy feather not a whit the less for having endured their jack-in-office frowns."

Here the Gudeman rattled his keys, and awe alone kept his constitutional impatience in check.

"And how did your Lordship overcome the hatred of Clermistonlee, my most bitter persecutor?"

"O, he is quite a devil of a fellow that! Ha! ha! He got a rapier thrust a few nights ago, which has luckily confined him to his apartments, and deprived the Council of his pleasant company and amiable advice. Ah, he is a brave fellow, too, Clermistonlee; but though an expert swordsman and accomplished cavalier, he is, withal, too much of a roué and fanfaron for my taste. And, harkee, Walter, I have one request to make ere we leave this abominable souterrain; that you will have no recourse to arms, for the severity with which as a Privy Councillor he may have treated you."

"Your Lordship's wish was ever a law to me; but if I am set upon----"

"Zounds! then spare not to thrust and slash while hand and hilt will hold together," said the Earl, as they ascended the spiral stair of the prison, preceded by the gudeman thereof, who never ceased bowing until they issued into the dark and narrow alley then named Gourlay's or Mauchane's Close. Walters heart beat joyously, and his pulse quickened as the cool night wind blew upon his blanched but flushing cheek.

"He must have been a thoroughpaced tyrant, the constructor of this den of thine, gudeman," said the Earl, surveying the prison as he handed some silver to the governor; "but I suppose we must pay largess nevertheless;" and, taking the arm of his companion, they ascended the steep alley together. "You have followed my drums now, Walter; for, let me see----"

"Since Candlemas-tide '85, my Lord."

"How, boy--for three years?"

"Ever since you defeated Argyle's troops at the Muirdykes," said Walter with a sigh.

"Hah!--is it so? I have been somewhat forgetful of thee in these bustling times, but shall make immediate amends. I have promoted many a slashed and feathered ruffler when thy quiet merit was passed unheeded. You fought under Halkett at Sedgemoor: it was a well-ordered field that, and had Lord Gray's horse properly flanked Monmouth's infantry, their Lordships of Feversham and Churchill, might have had another tale to tell at St. James's. S'death! we are likely soon to have such scenes again, for there will be a convulsion in our politics that will make and unmake many a fair name and noble patrimony."

"This is a riddle to me, my Lord."

"So much the better--my suspicions would be called treason to King James by the Lords of the Laigh Chamber. Our Scottish troops are concentrating fast round Edinburgh from the West and Borders--even our frontier garrison at Greenlaw is withdrawn here, so perhaps the Northumbrian thieves will get out their horns again, as they did in Cromwell's time after that day of shame at Dunbar. You will come with me to Bristo, of course?" continued the Earl, as they issued into that main street which runs the whole length of the old city, and was long deemed for its bustle, breadth, height, and variety of architecture the most striking in Europe.

Then it was silent and empty, for the hour was late; the countless windows of the lofty mansions which shot up to a giant height on each side, in every variety of the Scottish and Flemish tastes, with fantastic fronts, of wood or stone, turreted, corbelled and corbie-stoned, gable-ended, balconied, and bartizanned, were dark and closed, or lighted only by the silver moon which bathed one side of the street in a flood of pale white lustre, while the other was immersed in obscure and murky shadow. The long vista of the Lawnmarket was closed by the gloomy and picturesque masses of the great gothic cathedral, the façade of the Tolbooth, and the high narrow edifices of the Craimes, a street wedged curiously between St. Giles and the place now occupied by the Exchange.

A hackney-coach like a clumsy herse, one of the few introduced into Edinburgh only fifteen years before, and consequently deemed a splendid and luxurious mode of locomotion, stood at the mouth of the Pend or archway. The driver, a tall, gaunt fellow, dressed in a plain gaberdine of that coarse stuff, with which a recent Act of the Scottish Parliament compelled the humbler classes to content themselves, stood bonnet in hand by the heavy flight of steps which enabled first the Earl and then Walter to ascend into the recesses of the vehicle. The door was closed with deliberation; the driver clambered into his place on the roof, and slowly and solemnly his two horses dragged the lumbering machine up the Lawn-market, over the rough and steep causeway of which it rumbled like a vast caravan.

"We make great advances in the art of luxury, we moderns," said the Earl; "Ah! twenty years ago there was nothing of this sort! And there is that new invention, the snaphaunce-lock, which is as likely to supersede the good old match, as the screw-hilted dagger of Bayonne is to eclipse the glories of the old sweynes-feather. Were you ever in one of these Dutch conveyances before, Walter?"

"Once only, my Lord, when I accompanied Lady Dunbarton to Her Grace of Lauderdale's levee at Holyrood."

"Though our preachers inveigh bitterly against them, as dark places wherein to cloak wickedness and knavery, and in opposition uphold the good old fashions of saddles, pillions, and sedans, I think this is a pleasant and a useful contrivance withal."

"But will you be pleased to remember that my present attire is a very unfitting one for the presence of the Countess?--soiled as it is by the contaminations of that noxious vault----"

"Right, Walter--and I had forgotten that my little Lætitia is somewhat fatigued with her journey. You can pay your devoirs in the morning, and tell Finland, Gavin of that Ilk, the Chevalier Drumquhasel, and such other of my cavaliers as have arrived in the city, that we shall be glad to see them at our morning déjeûné at Bristo. I have ordered a glorious bombarde of choice canary to be set abroach; so don't forget to tell them that. But anent the Napiers," continued the earl, "they are intimate friends of yours, I presume?"

"Friends!" stammered Walter; "alas, my lord, do you think that the proud and stately old Lady of Bruntisfield, would rank a poor and obscure lad like me among her friends? Save your noble self and the Countess, I have no friends on earth--none."

"Ungrateful rogue! thou forgettest thy fifteen hundred comrades, each of whom is a friend. But by all the devils, there is a mystery in this! 'Tis quite a romance. What tempted you to run tilt against the council in this matter? No answer. It will not pass muster with me, Mr. Fenton. A pretty damoiselle is enough, I know, to tempt any young gallant to swerve from his strict line of duty. I found it so in my bachelor days. There is old Mackay of Scoury, who now commands our Scots in the service of the States'-General, openly deserted from us in Holland (when we followed the banner of Condé), and joined the enemy--for what? ha, ha! the love of a rosy little Dutch housewife, who had gained his weak side, the Lord knows how; for we Scots musqueteers considered ourselves great connoisseurs in women, wine, and horse-flesh. Apropos! of Lilian Napier--I doubt not you know where this little one is concealed."

"I do, my lord," answered Walter, with vivacity.

"Heydey! I am right, then," laughed the gay nobleman, "you got a kiss, I warrant. _Point d'argent point de Suisses!_ as we used to say of the Swiss gendarmerie, ha, ha!"

"Thanks, and the consciousness of doing a generous act, were my sole reward."

"Very likely; but I'll leave the Countess to worm the secret out of thee. Ha, ha! 'tis very unlikely that a young spark would peril his life thus, and look only for a Carthusian's reward from a dazzling damoiselle of eighteen. Ho! I had served under Turrene, Luxembourg, and Condé, long ere I was thy age, and know well that a bright eye and ruddy lip--but here is the gate of the Upper Bow, and two fresh heads grinning on its battlement since I saw it last. Whose are they?"

"Holsterlee and some of his comrades dispersed a conventicle among the Braid hills lately."

"Poor rogues! If you do not mean to accompany me; we must part here; and in the course of to-morrow, if you know where the ladies of yonder old castle at Bruntisfield are in concealment, you will doubtless acquaint them with the decree I have obtained in their favour. But their kinsman, Quentin Napier, can neither be pardoned nor relaxed from the horn."

"'Tis well," thought Walter.

The Bow, a steep winding street that descended the southern side of the hill on which the old city stands, was then closed by a strong gate called the Upper Porte, under the shadow of which the coach stopped. On the right a heavy Flemish house projected over the street, on beams of carved wood; on the left, the house of Weir the wizard frowned its terrors across the narrow way. A sentinel opened the creaking barrier, received the nightly toll, and Walter, after bidding adieu to the generous Earl, was about to retire, when the latter called him back.

"Harkee, Fenton; you have far to go, and in these times, when soldiers are openly murdered in the streets, my rapier may be of some service should any quarrelsome ruffler cross your path; take it, for I have pistols."

"A thousand thanks, my lord," replied Walter, receiving from the Earl a long and richly chased rapier sheathed in crimson velvet.

He threw the embroidered belt over his shoulder, and strode away with a feeling of pride and elation, to find himself once more a free and armed man; while the great caravan occupied by the earl, rumbled down the windings of the narrow street with increased speed, waking all the echoes of its hollow stone staircases, and scaring those indwellers who heard them through their dreams; all sounds heard by night in the Bow being fraught with imaginary terrors, and attributed to the wandering spirit of that diabolical wizard, who a short time before had expiated his real and supposed enormities amid a blaze of tar barrels on the castle hill, and whose uninhabited mansion was then viewed with horror, as it is still with curiosity.

With a heart brimming with exultation, and glowing with anticipations of happiness, which for the time made the revolving world in all its features shine like a beautiful kaleidoscope, Walter pirouétted and danced down the Lawnmarket and through the narrow Craimes. Was it possible that but an hour ago he was so very wretched and degraded? Was it not all a dream, this new joy, a dream from which he feared to awake? Ah, thought he, one requires to have tasted the bitterness of captivity, to know the value and the glory of freedom.

Again he wore a sword, and the consciousness of bearing arms and having the spirit to use them, imparted to the cavaliers of other times a bearing, to which the gentlemen of the present age are strangers.

As the clanking wicket of the Netherbow closed behind him, the flap of a night-bird's wing caused an involuntary thrill of disgust; he looked up to the central tower of the Porte, and, faugh! a huge gled was winging away heavily from the iron spike whereon a hideous head scowled at the passers, and by the tangled locks that waved on the midnight wind around its sweltering features, Walter thought he recognised the face of the preacher, Ichabod Bummel, of whose fate he was still in ignorance. With pity and disgust he hurried on, and, without molestation or adventure, reached his quarters in the White Horse Cellar--the place where this eventful narrative commenced a few weeks before--a spacious and ancient but long-forgotten inn, situated at the bottom of a small court opening from the Canongate. Rising from a great arcade, which formed of old the Royal Mews, this edifice is now remarkable only for its antiquity and picturesque aspect, its gables of carved wood, perforated with pigeon-holes, its enormous stacks of chimneys, and curious windows on the roof. At the time of our tale, there was always a body of troops billetted there, greatly to the annoyance of Master Gibbie Runlet, the host thereof, who found them neither the most peaceful nor profitable occupants of his premises.