The Atlantic Book of Modern Plays Part 25

CAMPBELL. Very well said, James! Forby, between ourselves, Mrs.

Stewart, the young man in my opeenion is guilty of another crime (_snuffs_)--he is guilty of the heinous crime of not knowing on which side his bread is b.u.t.tered.--Come now--

MARY STEWART. Ye durst not lay a finger on the lad, ye durst not hang him.

MACKENZIE. And why should the gentleman not hang him if it pleesure him?

(CAMPBELL _taps snuff-box and takes pinch._)

MARY STEWART (_with intensity_). Campbell of Kilmhor, lay but one finger on Dugald Stewart and the weight of Ben Cruachan will be light to the weight that will be laid on your soul. I will lay the curse of the seven rings upon your life: I will call up the fires of Ephron, the blue and the green and the gray fires, for the destruction of your soul: I will curse you in your homestead and in the wife it shelters and in the children that will never bear your name. Yea, and ye shall be cursed.

CAMPBELL. (_Startled--betrays agitation--the snuff is spilled from his trembling hand._) Hoot toot, woman! ye're, ye're--(_Angrily_) Ye auld beldame, to say such things to me! I'll have ye first whippet and syne droont for a witch. d.a.m.n thae stubborn and supersteetious cattle! (_To_ SANDEMAN) We should have come in here before him and listened in the barn, Sandeman!

SANDEMAN. Ah, listen behind the door you mean! Now I never thought of that!

CAMPBELL. Did ye not! Humph! Well, no doubt there are a good many things in the universe that yet wait for your thought upon them.

What would be your objections, now?

SANDEMAN. There are two objections, Kilmhor, that you would understand.

CAMPBELL. Name them.

SANDEMAN. Well, in the first place, we have not wings like crows to fly--and the footsteps on the snow--Second point--the woman would have told him we were there.

CAMPBELL. Not if I told her I had power to clap her in Inverness jail.

MARY STEWART (_in contempt_). Yes, even if ye had told me ye had power to clap me in h.e.l.l, Mr. Campbell.

CAMPBELL. Lift me that screeching Jezebel oot o' here; Sandeman, we'll mak' a quick finish o' this. (_Soldiers take her towards barn._) No, not there; pitch the old girzie into the snow.

MARY STEWART. Ye'll never find him, Campbell, never, never!

CAMPBELL (_enraged_). Find him! Aye, by G.o.d I'll find him, if I have to keek under every stone on the mountains from the Boar of Badenoch to the Sow of Athole. (_Old woman and soldiers go outside._) And now, Captain Sandeman, you an' me must have a word or two. I noted your objection to listening ahint doors and so on. Now, I make a' necessary allowances for youth and the grand and magneeficent ideas commonly held, for a little while, in that period. I had them myself. But, man, gin ye had trod the floor of the Parliament Hoose in Edinburry as long as I did, wi' a pair o'

thin hands at the bottom o' toom pockets, ye'd ha'e shed your fine notions, as I did. Noo, fine pernickety noansense will no'

do in this business--

SANDEMAN. Sir!

CAMPBELL. Softly, softly, Captain Sandeman, and hear till what I have to say. I have noticed with regret several things in your remarks and bearing which are displeasing to me. I would say just one word in your ear; it is this. These things, Sandeman, are not conducive to advancement in His Majesty's service.

SANDEMAN. Kilmhor, I am a soldier, and if I speak out my mind, you must pardon me if my words are blunt. I do not like this work, but I loathe your methods.

CAMPBELL. Mislike the methods you may, but the work ye must do!

Methods are my business. Let me tell you the true position. In ae word it is no more and no less than this. You and me are baith here to carry out the proveesions of the Act for the Pacification of the Highlands. That means the cleaning up of a very big mess, Sandeman, a very big mess. Now, what is your special office in this work? I'll tell ye, man; you and your men are just beesoms in the hands of the law-officers of the Crown. In this district, I order and ye soop! (_He indicates door of barn._) Now soop, Captain Sandeman.

SANDEMAN (_in some agitation_). What is your purpose? What are you after? I would give something to see into your mind.

CAMPBELL. Ne'er fash aboot my mind: what has a soldier to do with ony mental operations? It's His Grace's orders that concern you.

Oot wi' your man and set him up against the wa'.

SANDEMAN. Kilmhor, it is murder--murder, Kilmhor!

CAMPBELL. Hoots, awa', man, it's a thing o' nae special significance.

SANDEMAN. I must ask you for a warrant.

CAMPBELL. Quick then: Mackenzie will bring it out to you.

(CLERK _begins writing._ SANDEMAN _and soldiers lead_ STEWART _outside_, CAMPBELL _sits till they are out._ CLERK _finishes_, CAMPBELL _signs warrant--and former goes._ CAMPBELL _is alone, save for_ MORAG CAMERON, _who is sitting huddled up on stool by fire, and is unnoticed by_ CAMPBELL.)

CAMPBELL (_as one speaking his thoughts aloud_). I've been beaten for a' that. A strange thing, noo. Beforehand I would ha'e said naething could be easier. And yet--and yet--there it is!... It would have been a grand stroke for me.... Cluny--Keppoch--Lochiel, and maybe ... maybe--h.e.l.l! when I think of it! Just a whispered word--a mere pointed finger would ha'e telled a'. But no! their visions, their dreams beat me. "You'll be adding to your experience to-night, Mr. Campbell, and have something to put to the other side of it," says he; aye, and by G.o.d I have added something to it, and it is a thing I like but little--that a dream can be stronger than a strong man armed.--Here come I, Archibald Campbell of Kilmhor, invested with authority as law-officer of the Crown, bearing in my hand the power of life and death, fire and the sword, backed up by the visible authority of armed men, and yet I am powerless before the dreams of an old woman and a half-grown lad--soldiers and horses and the gallows and yellow gold are less than the wind blowing in their faces.--It is a strange thing that: it is a thing I do not understand.--It is a thing fit to sicken a man against the notion that there are probabeelities on this earth.--have been beaten for a' that. Aye, the pair o' them have beat me--though it's a matter of seconds till one of them be dead.

MORAG (_starting into upright position and staring at him; her voice is like an echo to his_). Dead!

CAMPBELL (_turning hastily_). What is that!

MORAG. Is he dead?

CAMPBELL (_grimly_). Not yet, but if ye'll look through this window (_he indicates window_) presently, ye'll see him gotten ready for death.

(_He begins to collect articles of personal property, hat, etc._)

MORAG. I will tell you.

CAMPBELL (_astounded_). What!

MORAG. I will tell you all you are seeking to know.

CAMPBELL (_quietly_). Good G.o.d, and to think, to think I was on the very act--in the very act of--tell me--tell me at once.

MORAG. You will promise that he will not be hanged?

CAMPBELL. He will not. I swear it.

MORAG. You will give him back to me?

CAMPBELL. I will give him back unhung.

MORAG. Then (CAMPBELL _comes near_), in a corrie half-way up the far side of Dearig--G.o.d save me!

CAMPBELL. Dished after a'. I've clean dished them! Loard, Loard!

once more I can believe in the rationality of Thy world. (_Gathers up again his cloak, hat, etc._) And to think--to think--I was on the very act of going away like a beaten dog!

MORAG. He is safe from hanging now?

CAMPBELL (_chuckles and looks out at window before replying, and is at door when he speaks_). Very near it, very near it. Listen!

(_He holds up his hand--a volley of musketry is heard. KILMHOR goes out, closing the door behind him. After a short interval of silence the old woman enters and advances a few steps._)

MARY STEWART. Did you hear, Morag Cameron, did you hear?