CHAPTER II.

THE GLOVE.

Distrust me not, but unreserved disclose The anxious thought that in thy bosom glows; To impart our griefs is apt to mitigate, And social sorrows blunt the darts of fate. EVENING, a Poem.

A month had passed away, and the summer came; it was a month of unalloyed happiness to Walter Fenton, who, at the somewhat solitary mansion of Bruntisfield, was a frequent and always a welcome guest; and there he spent every moment he could spare from his military duties, which chiefly consisted of being on guard at the Palace Porch or Privy Council Chamber, a review on Leith Links before old Sir Thomas of Binns practising King James's new mode of exercise by flam of drum, or 'worrying' various unhappy old women to say 'God save the King,' pronounce the rising at Bothwell a rebellion, Archbishop Sharpe a martyr, and Peden an impostor.

Notwithstanding the early season of the year, the game in the woods had particularly taken his fancy; so had the herons, eels, teals, and trout of the Loch; and rabbit-warrens, and foxes that lurked among the great quarries; and with Finland he generally contrived to finish the day's loitering at the Hall fire, where Lady Grisel, with the birr of her silver-mounted wheel, performed a burden to the long and monotonous tales she inflicted, of the splendours of King Charles's court, the terrors of the wars of Montrose, and the spells and charms of sorcerers and witches--warnings, ghosts, and Heaven knows what more; but all of which proved much more interesting to her hearers in that age, than it could to my readers in this.

Walter loved better to hear the wiry tinkling of Lilian's cittern or virginals after the old lady had fallen fast asleep, and then Annie Laurie joined her clear merry voice to the deeper notes of Douglas; and they were ever a happy evening party when the pages of _Cassandra, or The Banished Virgin_, and other romantic folios of the day--luxury, music, and conversation, free and untrammelled as any lover could wish--made the hours fleet past on silken wings. Ever joyous and ever gay, it was a circle from which Walter departed with regret, and counted one by one the long and weary hours until he found himself there again.

Notwithstanding her violent prejudice against the obscurity of his birth, Lady Grisel warmly admired the young man for the frankness and courage he displayed, his general high bearing, and above all, for a certain strong resemblance which she averred he bore to her youngest son, Sir Archibald Napier, who was slain in the unfortunate battle of Inverkeithing, when Cromwell forced the passage of the Forth.

Lucky it was for Walter that this strong idea took possession of her mind. From that time forward she loved to see him constantly, to watch his actions and features, and to listen to the tones of his voice, until, to her moistened and aged eyes, the very image of her youngest and best-beloved son seemed to be conjured up before her; and so strong became her feelings when this fancy possessed her, that it would have been a relief to have fallen upon his neck and kissed him.

To her it was a living dream of other days--a dream that called back sorrow and joy, and a thousand tender memories from the mists that envelope the past; and Walter was often surprised to find her eyes full of tears when, after a long pause, she addressed him. Perhaps for nothing but this tender and mysterious source of interest, would she have permitted such an intimacy to spring up between the nameless soldier and Lilian, the last hope of her race, the heiress of the honours and possessions of the old barons of Bruntisfield and the Wrytes. But her mind was now becoming enfeebled by age, and prudence struggled in vain with her powerful fancies.

Lilian (but this is a secret known only to ourselves and her gossip Annie) admired young Fenton too, though with ideas widely differing from those of her grandaunt, because he was a very handsome lad, with a cavalier air, and locks curling over a white and haughty brow; keen dark eyes, that were ever full of fire, but became soft and chastened when he looked on her. She soon deemed that the curl of his lip showed a

"Spirit proud and prompt to ire;"

but she never observed his moustachioed mouth without thinking what a very handsome one it was. His soft mellow voice was deep in its tones, and she loved to listen to his words till her young heart seemed to vibrate when he spoke. He was generally subdued rather than melancholy in manner; but the depth of his own thoughts imparted to all he said an interest, that could not fail to attract a girl of Lilian's gentle disposition.

But his enthusiasm and his vehemence startled her at times, when he spoke of the soldiers of Dunbarton, and of the glory he hoped to win beneath those banners which Turenne and the Great Condé saw ever in the van of battle. Gratitude, too, had no small share in her sentiments towards him, when, reflecting on the risk he had so generously run to save her dearest and (except one) her only relative from a humiliating examination by the imperious Privy Council; and she shuddered to think how narrowly he had escaped the extremity of their wrath; for every instrument of torture was then judicially used at the pleasure and caprice of the judicial authorities.

A month, we have said, had passed away: in that brief time a great change had gradually stolen over the hearts of Walter and Lilian Napier. No declaration of love had been made on his part, and there had been no acceptance on hers; but they were on the footing of lovers: secret and sincere, each had only acknowledged the passion to themselves: to her he had never whispered a word of the love that now animated every thought and action; but she was not ignorant of his affection, which a thousand little tendernesses revealed--and love will beget love in others.

They both felt it, or at least thought so.

Though his dark eyes might become brighter or more languid, his voice more insinuating, and his manner more graceful and gentle, when he addressed her, never had he assumed courage sufficient to reveal the secret thought that with each succeeding interview was daily and hourly becoming more and more a part of his existence. Often he longed to be an earl, a lord, or even a laird like Finland, that then he might throw himself and his fortune at her feet, and declare the depth of his passion in those burning expressions, that a thousand times trembled on his lips, and were there chained by diffidence and poverty.

He was very timid, too: what true lover is not?

A circumstance soon occurred, which, however trivial in itself, was mighty in its effect on our two young friends; and, by opening up the secret fountain of hope and pleasure, altered equally the aspect of their friendship and the even tenor of their way.

Lilian was fair and beautiful indeed; and (though not one of those magnificent beings that exist only in the brains of romancers) when gifted with all the mystic charms and romantic beauty, with which the glowing fancy of the lover ever invests his mistress, she became in Walter's imagination something more angelic and enchanting than he had previously conceived to exist; for a lover sees everything through the medium of beauty and delight.

Notwithstanding the real charms of her mind and person, she possessed a greater and more lasting source of attraction, in a graceful sweetness of manner which cannot be described. With a voice that was ever "low and sweet," and with all her girlish frankness and openness of character, she could at times assume a womanly firmness and high decision of manner, which every Scottish maid and matron had need to possess in those days of stout hearts and hard blows, when brawls and conflicts were of hourly occurrence, as no man ever went abroad unarmed; and the upper classes, by never permitting an insult to pass unpunished, became as much accustomed to the use of the sword and dagger as their plodding descendants to handling the peaceful quill and useful umbrella.

On a bright evening in May, when the sun was sinking behind the wooded ridge of the dark Corstorphine hills, and when the shadows of the turrets of Bruntisfield and its thick umbrageous oaks were thrown far across the azure loch, where the long-legged herons were wading in search of the trout and perch, where the coot fluttered and the snow-white swan spread its soft plumage to the balmy western wind, Walter accompanied Lilian Napier and her fair friend, Annie Laurie, in a ramble by the margin of the beautiful sheet of water, the green and sloping banks of which were enamelled by summer flowers.

The purple heath-bell, bowers of the blooming hawthorn, the bright yellow broom, and a profusion of wild rose-trees, loaded the air with perfume; for everything was arrayed in the greenness, the sunlight, the purity, the glory of summer, and the thick dark oaks of Drumsheugh towered up as darkly and as richly, as when the sainted King David and his bold thanes hunted the snow-white bull and bristly boar beneath their sombre shadows.

The charms of the beautiful Annie Laurie live yet in Scottish song, though the name and memory of the gallant lover whose muse embalmed them is all but forgotten.

Tall and fair, with a face of the most perfect loveliness, she had eyes of the darkest blue, shaded by long black lashes, cheeks tinged with red like a peach by the morning sun, and bright auburn hair rolling in heavy curls over a slender and delicate neck, imparting a graceful negligence to the dignity of her fine figure. Her whole features possessed a matchless expression of sweetness and vivacity; her nose was the slightest approach to aquiline; her lips were short and full; her profile eminently noble. A broad beaver hat, tied with coquettish ease, and adorned by one long ostrich feather drooping over her right shoulder, formed her head-gear; while a dress of light-blue silk, with the sleeves puffed and slashed with white satin, and white gloves of Blois fastened by gold bracelets, formed part of her attire. She carried a pretty heavy riding-switch, which completed the jaunty, piquant, and saucy character of her air and beauty.

The young ladies were walking together, and Lilian hung on the arm of her taller friend; while her cavalier was alternately by the side of each.

Though loving Lilian, he conversed quite as much--perhaps more--with her gay companion, whose prattle and laughter were incessant; for Annie invariably made it a rule to talk nonsense when nothing better occurred to her. Walter treated both with the utmost tenderness, but Lilian with the greatest respect: he now felt truly what Finland had often averred, "that the girl one loves is greater than an empress."

"And so," Mr. Fenton, said Annie, continuing her incessant raillery, "is it true that a party of Dunbarton's braves were out at the House-of-Linn yesterday, dragooning the poor cottars to pray for King James, to ban the Covenant, and all that?"

"It is but too true, I fear. Indeed, I was on that duty, and at the Richardson's Barony of Cramond too."

"Oh, such valour!--to terrify women and children, and drive the poor millers and fishers away; to stop the mills, break the dams, spoil the nets, and sink the boats. Fie upon you! Don't come near me, sir. Alas for the warriors of the great Condé, how sadly they are degenerating! Oh! Mr. Fenton, we positively blush for you: do we not, gossip Lilian?"

"Fair Annie, you are very severe upon me. If I was on such a duty, could I help it? A soldier must hear and obey."

"Even to ducking his mother, I suppose. Go to--I have no patience with such work! And was it by Finland's orders that all the old cummers of Cramond were sent swimming down the river tied to chairs and cutty-stools?"

"But they were very old, and ugly too; besides, the stream was very shallow. And as they were all caught in the act of singing a psalm in the wood of Dalmenie, what else could we do but duck them well for their contumacy? It was rare fun, I assure you, and Finland nearly burst his corslet with laughing; but I assure you, ladies, we only ducked the old women of the village."

"Ay--ay; the young would not get off scatheless, I fear," replied Annie, giving him a switch with her riding-rod; "I know soldiers of old. But, marry come up! our Teviotdale lads would have given you a hot reception had you come among them with such hostile intentions."

"Then the worse would be their fare," said Walter, in a tone of pique. "When ordered by our superiors to test the people----"

"Heigh-day! Now, good Mr. Fenton, suppose you were commanded to _test_ us in that rough fashion, because we would not pronounce Sharp a martyr and the Covenant a bond of rebellion, and said just whatever you wished of us,--what then? For, in sooth, we would say none of those things: would we, gossip Lilian?"

"But then we should each be sent voyaging down the loch on a cutty-stool," said Lilian, joining her friend in a loud burst of merriment.

"On my honour, ladies," said Walter very seriously, "these Orders of Council refer only to the rascal multitude. Who ever heard of a lady of rank being treated like a cottar-wife?"

"High and low share alike the vengeance of the Council, and Argyle lost his head for some such bubble. I cannot forget how, in the January of '82, six years ago (faith, I am getting quite an old spinster!), Claver'se and his troop took a fancy to quarter themselves at our house of Maxwelton, because my youngest sister had been christened by that poor man Ichabod Bummel, who carries misfortune wherever he shows his long nose. The cavalier troopers ate and drank up all they could lay hands on, in cellar, buttery, and barnyard; and I was terrified to death by the clank of their jack-boots and long rapiers, as they laughed and swore, and pursued the servants up one stair and down another. But Claver'se drew his chair in by the hall-fire, and taking me upon his knee, looked on me so kindly with his great black eyes, that I forgot the horror my mother's tales of him had inspired me with; and he kissed me twice, saying I would be the bonniest lass in all Nithsdale,--and has it not come true? But Colonel Grahame is so ferocious----"

"Oh! hush, Annie," whispered Lilian, for the name of Claverhouse was seldom mentioned but with studied respect and secret hatred, from the fear of his supernatural powers.

"Tush, dear Lilian! I am resolved to assert our prerogative to say whatever we have a mind to. But to return to the raid of yesterday. Had you heard Finland describing how valiantly his soldiers marched into the little hamlet, with drums beating, pikes advanced, and matches lighted, driving wives and weans and cocks and hens before them, you would (like me) have felt severely that the brave cavaliers of Dunbarton, les Gardes Ecossais of Arran and Aubigne, the stout hearts that stormed the towers of Oppenheim, had come to so low a pass now. If ever Finland goes on another such barns-breaking errand, I vow he shall never come into my presence again!"

"Under favour, fair Annie," said Walter laughingly, "your heart would soon relent; for I know you to be a true cavalier-dame, notwithstanding all this severe raillery."

"I have heard her say quite as much to the Earl of Perth--what dost think of that, Walter?" said Lilian.

"It is more than the boldest of our Barons dared have done in these degenerate days; but he would find how impossible it is to be displeased with you, fair Annie. How is it, Madam Lilian, that you do not in some way assist me against the raillery of your gossip? Her waggery is very smarting, I assure you."

Ere Lilian could speak, the clear voice of Annie interrupted her by exclaiming--

"Aha, Mr. Fenton, you have dropped something from the breast of that superbly pinked vest of yours--is it a tag, a tassel, or what?"

"I know not," he muttered hurriedly, putting his hand in the breast of his coat.

"It fell among the grass," said Lilian.

"Oh, I have it! I have it!" added Annie, springing forward and picking something up. "'Tis here--on my honour a glove!"

"A lady's--it fell from his breast," said Lilian in a breathless voice.

"Of beautiful point lace--one of yours, gossip Lilian? O brave!--ha! ha!"

"Mine--mine, said you?" Lilian's voice faltered; she grew pale and red alternately, while adding, with an air of confusion, "You are jesting as usual, you daft lassie. Oh, surely 'tis a mistake!"

"Judge for yourself, love. I saw you mark it: here are your initials worked in beads of blue and silver."

"It is but too true--I lost it some weeks ago," faltered Lilian, whose timid blue eyes stole one furtive glance at the handsome culprit under their long brown lashes, and were instantly cast down in the utmost confusion. She was excited almost to tears.

"Forsooth, there is something immensely curious in all this, Mr. Fenton," continued the waggish Annie, twirling the little glove aloft on the point of her riding-switch. "We must have you arraigned before the High Court of Love, and compelled to confess, under terror of his bow-string, to a jury of fair ladies, when and wherefore you obtained this glove."

"Now, Mr. Fenton, do;" urged Lilian, entering somewhat into the gay spirit of her friend, though her happy little heart vibrated with confusion and joy as tumultuously as a moment ago it had beat with jealousy and fear. "Tell us when you got it, and all about it."

"The night Ichabod Bummel was arrested," replied Walter, who still coloured deeply at this unexpected discovery, for he was yet but young in the art of love.

"Aha, and Lilian gave it! My pretty little prude, and is it thus with thee?"

"Cease, I pray you, Annie Laurie!" said Lilian, in a tone very much akin to asperity. "I hope Mr. Fenton will resolve this matter himself."

"Forgive me, Lilian--forgive me, Madam. I found it on the floor after your escape, and I kept it as a token of remembrance. You will pardon my presumption in doing so, when I say, at that time, I thought never, never to meet you again, and assuredly could not have foreseen the happiness of an hour like this." He spoke in a brief and confused manner, for he was concerned at the annoyance Annie's raillery evidently caused Lilian. "Permit me to restore it," he added, with increased confusion, "or perhaps you--you will permit me--"

"What?"

"To have the honour of retaining it."

"O no--no; how could you think of that?" said Lilian hurriedly and timidly, as she took the glove from the upheld riding-rod, and concealing it in some part of her dress, continued, "now let us hear no more of this silly affair. Ah, Mr. Walter, how sadly you have exposed yourself! To carry one's old glove about you, as Aunt Grisel does a charm against cramp, or thunder, or luck. 'Tis quite droll! Ah, good Heavens!" she added, in a whisper, "do not tell her of this affair, Annie!"

"Dost think I am so simple? Finland has taught me how one ought to keep one's own secrets from fathers and mothers, and aunts too."

"But to-morrow your sedan will be seen trotting over the whole town, up this close and down that, as you hurry from house to house, telling the wonderful adventure of the glove, and trussed up quite into a story in your own peculiar fashion, as long as the _Grand Scipio_, or any romance of Scuderi."

"For Lilian's sake, let me hope not, Mistress Laurie," said Walter, imploringly, to the gay beauty.

"Trust me for once, dear Lilian," said Annie, patting her cheek with her riding-switch, "I know when to prattle and when to be silent. Dost really think, my sweet little gossip, that I would jest with thy name, as I do with those of my Lady Jean Gordon, Mary of Charteris, the Countess of Dunbarton, or any of our wild belles who care not a rush how many fall in love with them, but bestow glances and kerchiefs, and rings and love-knots of ribbon, on all and sundry? I trow not. Apropos of that! I know three gentlemen of Claver'se Guards who wear Mary's favours in their hats, and if these ribbons are dyed in brave blood some grey morning, she alone will be to blame, for her coquetry is very dangerous. Young Holsterlee will be at the Countess of Dunbarton's ball _à la Française_ next week; observe him narrowly, and you will see a true-love knot of white ribbons at his breast; and if the young Lords Maddertie and Fawsyde are there, you will see each with the same gift from the same fond and liberal hand. Ah, she is a wild romp! It was the Duchess Mary's late suppers, and Monsieur Minuette's Bretagne that quite spoiled her, for once upon a time she was as grave, discreet, and silent as--as myself."

"O you wag--such a recluse she must have been!"

"Quite a little nun!" added Annie, and both the charming girls laughed with all the gaiety of their sex and the thoughtlessness of their rank.

Lilian was both vexed and pleased at the discovery that Fenton had for so many weeks borne her glove in his bosom; but from that time forward she became more reserved in his presence, and walked little with him in the garden, and still less in the lawn or by the banks of the loch.

She did not avoid his presence, but gave him fewer opportunities of being alone with her. Did she think of him less?

Ah, surely not.

A lover is the pole-star of a young girl's thoughts by day and night, and never was Walter's image absent a moment from the mind of Lilian; for like himself she numbered and recounted the hours until they met again. Their meetings were marked by diffidence and embarrassment, and their parting with secret regret.

Walter, too, was somewhat changed, from the knowledge that Lilian had discovered his passion. His voice, which seemed the same to other ears, became softer and more insinuating when he addressed her. He was, if possible, more respectful, and more timid, and more tender. His imagination--what a plague it was! and how very fertile in raising ideal annoyances! One hour his heart was joyous with delight at the memory of some little incident--a word or a smile; and the the next he nursed himself into a state of utter wretchedness, with the idea that Lilian had looked rather coldly upon him, or had spoken far too kindly of her cousin the captain of the Scots' Brigade.

Though the latter was a bugbear in his way, Walter did not seriously fear a rival; for he wore a sword, and after the fashion of the time feared no man. He dreaded most the loss of Lilian's esteem, for he dared not think that yet she linked love and his name together in her mind. Could he have read her heart and known her secret thoughts, he would have found a passion as deep as his own concealed under the bland purity and innocence of her smile, which revealed only well-bred pleasure at his approach.

Many days of anxious hoping and fearing, &c. passed, after the affair of the glove, but he saw Lilian thrice only. She kept close by the side of her grand-aunt Grisel, and the old lady seldom left her wheel and well-cushioned chair in the chamber-of-dais.

"Why did she not permit me to retain the glove?" he would at times say to himself. "Then I would have no cause for all my present doubts and fears. Had we been alone, perhaps she would have done so----"

Walter was right in that conjecture.