Bonnie Prince Charlie : a Tale of Fontenoy and Culloden Read online

  Produced by Martin Robb

  Bonnie Prince Charlie

  A Tale of Fontenoy and Culloden

  by G. A. Henty

  CHAPTER I: The Return of a Prodigal.

  It was a dull evening in the month of September, 1728. The apprenticeshad closed and barred the shutters and the day's work was over. Supperwas laid in the long room over the shop, the viands were on the table,and round it were standing Bailie Anderson and his wife, his foreman JohnGillespie, and his two apprentices. The latter were furtively eying theeatables, and wondering how much longer the grace which their master wasdelivering would be. Suddenly there was a knock at the door below. No onestirred until the bailie had finished his grace, before which time theknock had been twice repeated.

  "Elspeth, woman," the bailie said when he had brought the grace to anend, "go down below and see who knocks so impatiently; look through thegrille before you open the door; these are nor times when one opens tothe first stranger who knocks."

  The old servant, who had been standing behind her mistress, wentdownstairs. The door was opened, and they heard an exclamation ofsurprise at the answer to her question, "Who is it that's knocking as ifthe house belonged to him?"

  Those gathered up stairs heard the bolts withdrawn. There was a confusedsound of talking and then a heavy step was heard ascending the stairs,and without introduction a tall man, wrapped in a cloak and carrying achild of some two years old, strode into the room. He threw his hat on toa settle and advanced straight towards the bailie, who looked in surpriseat this unceremonious entry.

  "Don't you know me, Andrew?"

  "Heaven preserve us," the bailie exclaimed, "why it's Malcolm!"

  "Malcolm himself," the visitor repeated, "sound in wind and limb."

  "The Lord be praised!" the bailie exclaimed as he grasped the other'shand and wrung it warmly. "I had thought you dead years and years ago.Janet, this is my brother Malcolm of whom you have often heard me speak."

  "And of whom you can have heard little good, mistress, if my brother hasspoken the truth concerning me. I was ever a ne'er do well, while Andrewstruck hard and fast to our father's trade."

  "My husband has ever spoken with affection of you," Janet Anderson said."The bailie is not given to speak ill of any, much less of his own fleshand blood."

  "And now sit down, Malcolm. Supper is waiting, and you are, I doubt not,ready for it. It is ill talking to a fasting man. When you have done youshall tell me what you have been doing for the last fifteen years, andhow it comes that you thus suddenly come back among us with your boy."

  "He is no boy of mine," Malcolm said; "but I will tell you all about itpresently. First let me lay him down on that settle, for the poor littlechap is fast asleep and dead tired out. Elspeth, roll up my cloak andmake a pillow for him. That's right, he will do nicely now. You arechanged less than any of us, Elspeth. Just as hard to look at, and, Idoubt not, just as soft at heart as you used to be when you tried toshield me when I got into scrapes. And now to supper."

  Little was said during the meal; fortunately the table was bounteouslyspread, for the newcomer's appetite was prodigious; but at last he wassatisfied, and after a long drink at the horn beside him, which Elspethhad kept filled with ale, he said:

  "There's nothing like a Scottish meal after all, Andrew. French living iswell enough for a time, but one tires of it; and many a time when I havebeen lying down supperless on the sod, after marching and fighting thewhole day, I have longed for a bowl of porridge and a platter well filledwith oatmeal cakes."

  Supper over, John and the apprentices retired. Elspeth went off toprepare the guest's chamber and to make up a little bed for the child.

  "Now, brother, let us hear your story; but, first of all, perhaps youwant to light your pipe?"

  "That do I," Malcolm replied, "if Mistress Janet has no objectionthereto."

  "She is accustomed to it," the bailie said, answering for her. "I smokemyself; I deem that tobacco, like other things, was given for our use,and methinks that with a pipe between the lips men's brains work moreeasily and that it leadeth to pleasant converse."

  Janet went to a cupboard, brought out two long pipes and a jar oftobacco, placed two tumblers, a flat bottle, and a jug of water on thetable.

  "That is right," the bailie said. "I do not often touch strong waters.The habit, as I see too plainly, is a harmful one, and in this good cityof Glasgow there are many, even of those so placed that they should be anexample to their fellows, who are given nightly to drink more than isgood for them; but on an occasion like the present I deem it no harm totake a glass."

  "I should think not," Malcolm said heartily; "it is long since I tasted aglass of real Scotch spirit, and I never need an excuse for taking aglass of whatever it be that comes in my way. Not, Mistress Janet, that Iam a toper. I don't say that at the sack of a town, or at times whenliquor is running, so to speak, to waste, I am more backward than therest; but my hand wouldn't be as steady as it is if I had been one ofthose who are never so happy as when they are filling themselves withliquor. And now, Andrew, to my story. You know that when I saw youlast--just when the troubles in '15 began--in spite of all your warningsto the contrary, I must needs throw myself into the thick of them. You,like a wise man, stuck to your shop, and here you are now a bailie ofGlasgow; while I, who have been wandering over the face of the earthfighting for the cause of France and risking my life a thousand times ina matter which concerned me in no way, have returned just as penniless asI set out."

  "It is said, brother Malcolm," Janet said mildly, "that a rolling stonegathers no moss."

  "That is true enough," Malcolm assented; "and yet do you know there arefew rolling stones who, if their time were to come over again, wouldremain fixed in their bed. Of course we have not the pleasures of home,of wives and children; but the life of adventure has its own joys, whichI, for one, would not change for the others. However, brother, as youknow, I threw myself heart and soul into that business.

  "The last time I saw you was just as I was starting with a score ofothers to make our way to join the Earl of Mar's army at Perth. I haveseen many an army since, but never did I see sixteen thousand finerfighting men than were there assembled. The Laird of Mackintosh broughtfive hundred clansmen from Inverness shire, the Marquis of Huntly hadfive hundred horse and two thousand foot, and the Earl Marischal had athousand men. The Laird of Glenlyon brought five hundred Campbells, andthe Marquis of Tullibardine fourteen hundred, and a score of other chiefsof less power were there with their clansmen. There were enough men thereto have done anything had they been properly armed and led; but thougharms and ammunition had been promised from France, none came, and theEarl of Mar had so little decision that he would have wrecked the finestarmy that ever marched.

  "The army lay doing nothing for weeks, and just before we were expectinga movement, the company I belonged to was sent with a force ofHighlanders under Mackintosh to join the army under the LordsDerwentwater, Kenmure, and Nithsdale. Lord Derwentwater had risen with anumber of other gentlemen, and with their attendants and friends hadmarched against Newcastle. They had done nothing there but remained idlenear Hexham till, joined by a force raised in the Lowlands of Scotland bythe Earls of Nithsdale, Carnwath, and Wintoun, the united army marchednorth again to Kelso, where we joined them.

  "We Scots soon saw that we had gained nothing by the change ofcommanders. Lord Derwentwater was ignorant of military affairs, and hewas greatly swayed by a Mr. Forster, who was somehow at the head of thebusiness, and who was not only incompetent, but proved to be a coward, ifnot, as most folks believed, a traitor. So dissension soon broke out, an
dfour hundred Highlanders marched away north. After a long delay it wasresolved to move south, where, it was said, we should be joined by greatnumbers in Lancashire; but by this time all had greatly lost spirit andhope in the enterprise. We crossed the border and marched down throughPenrith, Appleby, and Kendal to Lancaster, and then on to Preston.

  "I was little more than a lad, Andrew, but even to me it seemed madnessthus to march into England with only two thousand men. Of these twelvehundred were foot, commanded by Brigadier Mackintosh; the others werehorse. There were two troops of Stanhope's dragoons quartered in Preston,but these retired when we neared the town, and we entered withoutopposition. Next day, which was, I remember, the 10th of November, theChevalier was proclaimed king, and some country gentlemen with theirtenants came in and joined us.

  "I suppose it would have come to the same thing in the end, but neverwere things so badly managed as they were by Mr. Forster.

  "Preston was a strong natural position; an enemy coming from the southcould only reach it by crossing a narrow bridge over the river Ribble amile and a half away, and this could have been held by a company againstan army. From the bridge to the town the road was so narrow that inseveral places two men could not ride abreast. It ran between two highand steep banks, and it was here that Cromwell was nearly killed when heattacked Charles's troops.

  "Well, all these places, where we might certainly have defendedourselves, were neglected, and we were all kept in the town, where weformed four main posts. One was in the churchyard, and this was commandedby Brigadier Mackintosh. In support of this was the volunteer horse underDerwentwater and the three other lords. Lord Charles Murray was incommand at a barricade at a little distance from the churchyard. ColonelMackintosh had charge of a post at a windmill; and the fourth was in thecentre of the town.

  "Lord Derwentwater was a poor general, but he was a brave man. He and histwo brothers, the Ratcliffs, rode about everywhere, setting an example ofcoolness, animating the soldiers, and seeing to the work on the barriers.Two days after we reached the town we heard that General Wilde wasapproaching. Colonel Farquharson was sent forward with a portion ofMackintosh's battalion to hold the bridge and the pass; but Mr. Forster,who went out on horseback, no sooner saw the enemy approaching than hegave orders to Farquharson and his men to retreat to the town. If I hadbeen in Farquharson's place I would have put a bullet through thecoward's head, and would have defended the bridge till the last.

  "After that everything was confusion; the Highlanders came back into thetown furious and disheartened. The garrison prepared to receive theenemy. Mr. Forster was seen no more, and in fact he went straight back tothe house where he was lodging and took his bed, where he remained tillall was over. The enemy came on slowly. They could not understand whystrong posts should be left undefended, and feared falling in anambuscade. I was at the post commanded by Brigadier Mackintosh. I hadjoined a company commanded by Leslie of Glenlyon, who had brought withhim some twenty men, and had made up his company with men who, likemyself, came up without a leader. His company was attached toMackintosh's regiment.

  "Presently the English came in sight, and as soon as they ascertainedthat we were still there, which they had begun to doubt, they attackedus. We beat them back handsomely, and Derwentwater with his cavalrycharged their dragoons so fiercely that he drove them out of the town. Itwas late in the afternoon when the fight began, and all night thestruggle went on. At each of our posts we beat them back over and overagain. The town was on fire in half a dozen places, but luckily the nightwas still and the flames did not spread. We knew that it was a hopelessfight we were making; for, from some prisoners, we learned that threeregiments of dragoons were also coming up against us, and had alreadyarrived at Clitheroe. From some inhabitants, I suppose, the enemy learnedthat the street leading to Wigan had nor been barricaded, and LordForrester brought up Preston's regiment by this way, and suddenly fell onthe flank of our barrier. It was a tough fight, but we held our own tillthe news came that Forster had agreed to capitulate.

  "I don't say that our case wasn't hopeless. We were outnumbered and hadno leader; sooner or later we must have been overpowered. Still, nocapitulation should have been made except on the terms of mercy to allconcerned. But Forster no doubt felt safe about himself, and that was allhe cared for; and the end showed that he knew what he was about, forwhile all the brave young noblemen, and numbers of others, were eitherexecuted or punished in other ways, Forster, who had been the leadingspirit who had persuaded them to rise, and led them into this strait, wasafter a short imprisonment suffered to go free. I tell you, brotherAndrew, if I were to meet him now, even if it were in a church, I woulddrive my dagger into his heart.

  "However, there we were. So furious were we that it was with difficultythe officers could prevent us from sallying out sword in hand and tryingto cut our way through the enemy. As to Forster, if he had appeared inthe streets he would have been hewn to pieces. However, it was useless toresist now; the English troops marched in and we laid down our arms, andour battalions marched into a church and were guarded as prisoners. Itwas not a great army they had taken, for there were but one thousand fourhundred and ninety captured, including noblemen, gentlemen, and officers.

  "Many of us were wounded more or less. I had got a slice on the shoulderfrom a dragoon's sword. This I gained when rushing out to rescue Leslie,who had been knocked down, and would have been slain by three dragoonshad I not stood over him till some of our men rushed out and carried himin. He was not badly hurt, the sword having turned as it cut through hisbonnet. My action won his regard, and from that time until a month sincewe have never been separated. Under a strong escort of soldiers we weremarched south. In most places the country people mocked us as we passed;but here and there we saw among the crowds who gathered in the streets ofthe towns through which we passed, faces which we passed, faces whichexpressed pity and sympathy

  "We were not badly treated on the march by our guard, and had little tocomplain of. When we reached Barnet we fell out as usual when the marchwas over, and I went up to the door of a house and asked a woman, wholooked pityingly at us, for a drink of water. She brought me some, andwhile I drank she said:

  "'We are Catholics and well wishers of the Chevalier; if you can manageto slip in here after it is dark we will furnish you with a disguise, andwill direct you to friends who will pass you on until you can escape.

  "'Can you give me disguises for two?' I asked. 'I will not go without mycaptain.'

  "'Yes,' she said, 'for two, but no more.'

  "'I will steal away after dark,' I said as I gave her back the jug.

  "I told Leslie what had happened, and he agreed to join me in time toescape, for there was no saying what fate might befall us in London; and,indeed, the very next morning severities commenced, the whole of thetroops being obliged to suffer the indignity of having their arms tiedbehind them, and so being marched into London.

  "After it was dark Leslie and I managed to steal away from our guards,who were not very watchful, for our uniform would at once have betrayedus, and the country people would have seized and handed us over. Thewoman was on the watch, and as soon as we neared the door she opened it.Her husband was with her and received us kindly. He at once furnished uswith the attire of two countrymen, and, letting us out by a back way,started with us across the country.

  "After walking twenty miles he brought us to the house of anotheradherent of the Chevalier, where we remained all day. So we were passedon until we reached the coast, where we lay hid for some days until anarrangement was made with the captain of a fishing boat to take us tosea, and either to land us at Calais or to put us on board a Frenchfishing boat. So we got over without trouble.

  "Long before that, as you know, the business had virtually come to an endhere. The Earl of Mar's army lay week after week at Perth, till at lastit met the enemy under Argyle at Sheriffmuir.

  "You know how that went. The Highland clans in the right and centrecarried all before them, and drove the enemy
from the field, but on theleft they beat us badly. So both parties claimed the victory. But,victory or defeat, it was fatal to the cause of the Chevalier. Half theHighland clans went off to their homes that night, and Mar had to fallback to Perth.

  "Well, that was really the end of it. The Chevalier landed, and for awhile our hopes rose. He did nothing, and our hopes fell. At last he tookship and went away, and the affair was over, except for the hangings andslaughterings.

  "Leslie, like most of the Scottish gentlemen who succeeded in reachingFrance, took service with the French king, and, of course, I did thesame. It would have done your heart good to see how the Scottishregiments fought on many a field; the very best troops of France werenever before us, and many a tough field was decided by our charge. Lesliewas a cornet. He was about my age; and you know I was but twenty whenSheriffmuir was fought. He rose to be a colonel, and would have given mea pair of colours over and over again if I would have taken them; but Ifelt more comfortable among our troopers than I should have done amongthe officers, who were almost all men of good Highland family; so Iremained Leslie's right hand.

  "A braver soldier never swung a leg over saddle; but he was always insome love affair or another. Why he didn't marry I couldn't make out. Isuppose he could never stick long enough to one woman. However, some fouryears ago he got into an affair more serious than any he had been inbefore, and this time he stuck to it in right earnest. Of course she wasprecisely one of the women he oughtn't to have fallen in love with,though I for one couldn't blame him, for a prettier creature wasn't to befound in France. Unfortunately she was the only daughter of the Marquisde Recambours, one of the wealthiest and most powerful of French nobles,and there was no more chance of his giving his consent to her throwingherself away upon a Scottish soldier of fortune than to her going into anunnery; less, in fact. However, she was as much in love with Leslie ashe was with her, and so they got secretly married. Two years ago thischild was born, but she managed somehow to keep it from her father, whowas all this time urging her to marry the Duke de Chateaurouge.

  "At last, as ill luck would have it, he shut her up in a convent just aweek before she had arranged to fly with Leslie to Germany, where heintended to take service until her father came round. Leslie would havegot her out somehow; but his regiment was ordered to the frontier, and itwas eighteen months before we returned to Paris, where the child had beenin keeping with some people with whom he had placed it. The very eveningof his return I was cleaning his arms when he rushed into the room.

  "'All is discovered,' he said; 'here is my signet ring, go at once andget the child, and make your way with it to Scotland; take all the moneyin the escritoire, quick!'

  "I heard feet approaching, and dashed to the bureau, and transferred thebag of louis there to my pocket. An official with two followers entered.

  "'Colonel Leslie,' he said, 'it is my duty to arrest you by order of hisgracious majesty;' and he held out an order signed by the king.

  "'I am unconscious of having done any wrong, sir, to his majesty, whom Ihave served for the last sixteen years. However, it is not for me todispute his orders;' thereupon he unbuckled his sword and handed it tothe officers. 'You will look after the things till I return, Malcolm. AsI am sure I can clear myself of any charge that may be brought againstme, I trust to be speedily back again.

  "'Your trooper need not trouble himself,' the officer said; 'the officialwith me will take charge of everything, and will at once affix my seal toall your effects.'

  "I went down stairs and saw the colonel enter a carriage with the twoofficials, then I went straight to the major. 'Colonel Leslie has beenarrested, sir, on what charge I know not. He has intrusted a commissionto me. Therefore, if you find I am absent from parade in the morning youwill understand I am carrying out his orders.'

  "The major was thunderstruck at the news, but told me to do as thecolonel had ordered me, whatever it might be. I mounted the colonel'shorse at once and rode to the house where the child was in keeping. Thepeople knew me well, as I had often been there with messages from thecolonel. When I showed them the signet ring, and told them that I hadorders to take the child to his father, they made no opposition. I said Iwould return for him as soon as it was dusk. I then went and purchased asuit of civilian clothes, and returning to the house attired myself inthese, and taking the child on the saddle before me, rode for thefrontier.

  "Following unfrequented roads, travelling only at night, and passing aday in a wood, I passed the frontier unmolested, and made my way toOstend, where I sold the horse and took passage in the first ship sailingfor Leith. I arrived there two days ago, and have walked here, with anoccasional lift in a cart; and here I am, brother Andrew, to ask you forhospitality for a while for myself and Leslie's boy. I have a hundredlouis, but these, of course, belong to the child. As for myself, Iconfess I have nothing; saving has never been in my line."

  "You are heartily welcome, Malcolm, as long as you choose to stop; but Itrust that ere long you will hear of Colonel Leslie."

  "I trust so," Malcolm said; "but if you knew the court of France as wellas I do you would not feel very sanguine about it. It is easier to getinto a prison than out of one."

  "But the colonel has committed no crime!" the bailie said.

  "His chance would be a great deal better if he had," Malcolm laughed. "Acolonel of one of his majesty's Scottish regiments can do a good deal inthe way of crime without much harm befalling him; but when it comes tomarrying the daughter of a nobleman who is a great personage at court,without his consent, it is a different affair altogether, I can tell you.Leslie has powerful friends, and his brother officers will do what theycan for him; but I can tell you services at the court of France go forvery little. Influence is everything, and as the nobleman the marquisintended to be the husband of his daughter is also a great personage atcourt and a friend of Louis's, there is no saying how serious a matterthey may make of it. Men have been kept prisoners for life for a far lessserious business than this."

  "But supposing he is released, does he know where to communicate withyou?"

  "I am afraid he doesn't," Malcolm said ruefully. "He knows that I comefrom Glasgow, but that is all. Still, when he is freed, no doubt he willcome over himself to look for his son, and I am sure to hear of his beinghere."

  "You might do, and you might not," the bailie said. "Still, we must hopefor the best, Malcolm. At any rate I am in no haste for the colonel tocome. Now I have got you home again after all these years, I do not wishto lose you again in a hurry."

  Malcolm only remained for a few weeks at his brother's house. Therestraint of life at the bailie's was too much for him. Andrew's was awell ordered household. The bailie was methodical and regular, a leadingfigure in the kirk, far stricter than were most men of his time as toundue consumption of liquor, strong in exhortation in season and out ofseason. His wife was kindly but precise, and as outspoken as Andrewhimself. For the first day or two the real affection which Andrew had forhis younger brother, and the pleasure he felt at his return, shieldedMalcolm from comment or rebuke; but after the very first day the bailie'swife had declared to herself that it was impossible that Malcolm couldlong remain an inmate of the house. She was not inhospitable, and wouldhave made great sacrifices in some directions for the long missingbrother of her husband; but his conduct outraged all the best feelings ofa good Scotch housewife.

  Even on that first day he did not come punctually to his meals. He wasaway about the town looking up old acquaintance, came in at dinner andagain at supper after the meal had already begun, and dropped into hisplace and began to eat without saying a word of grace. He stamped aboutthe house as if he had cavalry spurs still on his heels; talked in avoice that could be heard from attic to basement; used French and Flemishoaths which horrified the good lady, although she did not understandthem; smoked at all hours of the day, whereas Andrew always confinedhimself to his after supper pipe, and, in spite of his assertions on theprevious evening, consumed an amount of liquor which horrifie
d the goodwoman.

  At his meals he talked loudly, kept the two apprentices in a titter withhis stories of campaigning, spoke slightingly of the city authorities,and joked the bailie with a freedom and roughness which scandalized her.Andrew was slow to notice the incongruity of his brother's demeanour andbearing with the atmosphere of the house, although he soon became dimlyconscious that there was a jarring element in the air. At the end of aweek Malcolm broached the subject to him.

  "Andrew," he said, "you are a good fellow, though you are a bailie and anelder of the kirk, and I thank you for the hearty welcome you have givenme, and for your invitation to stay for a long time with you; but it willnot do. Janet is a good woman and a kindly, but I can see that I keep herperpetually on thorns. In good truth, fifteen years of campaigning arebut an indifferent preparation for a man as an inmate of a respectablehousehold. I did not quite know myself how thoroughly I had become adevil may care trooper until I came back to my old life here. The ways ofyour house would soon be as intolerable to me as my ways are to your goodwife, and therefore it is better by far that before any words have passedbetween you and me, and while we are as good friends as on the eveningwhen I returned, I should get out of this. I met an old friend today, oneof the lads who went with me from Glasgow to join the Earl of Mar atPerth. He is well to do now, and trades in cattle, taking them in drovesdown into England. For the sake of old times he has offered meemployment, and methinks it will suit me as well as any other."

  "But you cannot surely be going as a drover, Malcolm!"

  "Why not? The life is as good as any other. I would not sit down, afterthese years of roving, to an indoor life. I must either do that or crossthe water again and take service abroad. I am only six and thirty yet,and am good for another fifteen years of soldiering, and right gladlywould I go back if Leslie were again at the head of his regiment, but Ihave been spoiled by him. He ever treated me as a companion and as afriend rather than as a trooper in his regiment, and I should miss himsorely did I enter any other service. Then, too, I would fain be here tobe ready to join him again if he sends for me or comes, and I should wishto keep an eye always on his boy. You will continue to take charge ofhim, won't you, Andrew? He is still a little strange, but he takes toElspeth, and will give little trouble when he once learns the language."

  "I don't like it at all, Malcolm," the bailie said.

  "No, Andrew, but you must feel it is best. I doubt not that ere this yourwife has told you her troubles concerning me."

  As the bailie on the preceding night had listened to a long string ofcomplaints and remonstrances on the part of his wife as to his brother'sgeneral conduct he could not deny the truth of Malcolm's supposition.

  "Just so, Andrew," Malcolm went on; "I knew that it must be so. MistressJanet has kept her lips closed firm to me, but I could see how difficultit was for her sometimes to do so. It could not be otherwise. I am asmuch out of place here as a wolf in a sheepfold. As to the droving, Ishall not mention to all I meet that I am brother to one of the bailiesof Glasgow. I shall like the life. The rough pony I shall ride willdiffer in his paces from my old charger, but at least it will be life inthe saddle. I shall be earning an honest living; if I take more than isgood for me I may get a broken head and none be the wiser, whereas if Iremain here and fall foul of the city watch it would be grief and painfor you."

  The bailie was silenced. He had already begun to perceive that Malcolm'sways and manners were incompatible with the peace and quiet of arespectable household, and that Janet's complaints were not altogetherunreasonable. He had seen many of his acquaintances lift their eyebrowsin disapprobation at the roystering talk of his brother, and had foreseenthat it was probable trouble would come.

  At the same rime he felt a repugnance to the thought that after so manyyears of absence his brother should so soon quit his house. It seemed areflection alike on his affection and hospitality.

  "You will take charge of the child, won't you?" Malcolm pleaded. "Thereis a purse of a hundred louis, which will, I should say, pay for anyexpense to which he may put you for some years."

  "As if I would take the bairn's money!" Andrew exclaimed angrily. "Whatdo you take me for, Malcolm? Assuredly I will take the child. Janet and Ihave no bairn of our own, and it's good for a house to have a child init. I look upon it as if it were yours, for it is like enough you willnever hear of its father again. It will have a hearty welcome. It is abright little fellow, and in time I doubt not that Janet will takegreatly to it. The charge of a child is a serious matter, and we cannothope that we shall not have trouble with it, but there is trouble in allthings. At any rate, Malcolm, we will do our best, and if at the end of ayear I find that Janet has not taken to it we will see about some otherarrangement. And, Malcolm, I do trust that you will stay with us foranother week or two. It would seem to me as if I had turned you out of myhouse were you to leave me so soon."

  So Malcolm made a three weeks' stay at his brother's, and then startedupon his new occupation of driving Highland cattle down into Lancashire.Once every two or three months he came to Glasgow for a week or twobetween his trips. In spite of Andrew's entreaties he refused on theseoccasions to take up his abode with him, but took a lodging not far off,coming in the evening for an hour to smoke a pipe with his brother, andnever failing of a morning to come in and take the child for a long walkwith him, carrying him upon his shoulder, and keeping up a steady talkwith him in his native French, which he was anxious that the boy shouldnor forget, as at some time or other he might again return to France.

  Some weeks after Malcolm's return to Scotland, he wrote to ColonelLeslie, briefly giving his address at Glasgow; but making no allusion tothe child, as, if the colonel were still in prison, the letter would besure to be opened by the authorities. He also wrote to the major, givinghim his address, and begging him to communicate it to Colonel Lesliewhenever he should see him; that done, there was nothing for it but towait quietly. The post was so uncertain in those days that he had butslight hope that either of his letters would ever reach theirdestination. No answer came to either of his letters.

  Four years later Malcolm went over to Paris, and cautiously madeinquiries; but no one had heard anything of Colonel Leslie from the dayhe had been arrested. The regiment was away fighting in the LowCountries, and the only thing Malcolm could do was to call upon thepeople who had had charge of the child, to give them his address in casethe colonel should ever appear to inquire of them. He found, however, thehouse tenanted by other people. He learned that the last occupants hadleft years before. The neighbors remembered that one morning early someofficers of the law had come to the house, and the man had been seizedand carried away. He had been released some months later, only to findthat his wife had died of grief and anxiety, and he had then sold off hisgoods and gone no one knew whither. Malcolm, therefore, returned toGlasgow, with the feeling that he had gained nothing by his journey.