Out in the Forty-Five Part 51

Flora kissed me, and whispered, "Thank you for Angus!" but then she broke down, and cried like a child.

"Have you heard anything of Angus?" I asked.

"Yes," said Annas, who shed no tears. "He is safe in France, with friends of the Cause."

"In France!" cried I.

"Yes. Did you think he could stay in England? Impossible, except now and then in disguise, for a stolen visit, perhaps, when some years are gone."

"Then if Colonel Keith could escape--"

"That would be his lot. Of course, unless the Prince were entirely successful."

I felt quite dismayed. I had never thought of this.

"And how long do you stay here?" said I.

"Only till I can obtain a hearing of the Princess Caroline. That is arranged by Mr Raymond, through some friends of his. He and Mr Hebblethwaite have been very, very good to us."

"I do not know what we should have done without them," said Flora, wiping her eyes.

"And is the day fixed for you to see the Princess?"

"Not quite, but I expect it will be Thursday next. Pray for us, Cary, for that seems the last hope."

"And you have heard nothing, I suppose, from the Colonel?"

"Yes, I have." Annas put her hand into her bosom, and drew forth a sc.r.a.p of paper. "You may read it, Cary. It will very likely be the last."

My own eyes were dim as I carried the paper to the window. I could have read it where I was, but I wanted an excuse to turn my back on every one.

"My own dear Sister,--If it make you feel happier, do what you will for my release: but beyond that do nothing. I have ceased even to wish it. I am so near the gates of pearl, that I do not want to turn back unless I hear my Master call me. And I think He is calling from the other side.

"That does not mean that I love you less: rather, if it be possible, the more. Tell our father and mother that we shall soon meet again, and in the meantime they know how safe their boy must be. Say to Angus, if you have the opportunity, that so far as in him lies, I charge him to be to G.o.d and man all that I hoped to have been. Thank Miss C. Courtenay and Mr Hebblethwaite for their brave help: they both played their part well. And tell Flora that I kept my vow, and that she shall hear the rest when we meet again.

"G.o.d bless you, every one. Farewell, darling Annas.

"Your loving brother, not till, but beyond, death, Duncan Keith."

Note 1. The Prince of Wales and the Duke of c.u.mberland. The former distinguished himself by little beyond opposition to his father, and an extremely profligate life. The Jacobite epitaph written on his death, five years later, will show the light in which he and his relatives were regarded by that half of the nation:

"Here lies Fred, Who was alive and is dead.

Had it been his father, I had much rather; Had it been his sister, No one would have missed her; Had it been his brother, Still better than another: But since 'tis only Fred, Who was alive and is dead, Why, there's no more to be said."

Note 2. Ephraim does the Princess Caroline an injustice. She was a lily among the thorns.

Note 3. How far such a personation is consistent with truth and righteousness may be reasonably questioned. But very few persons would have thought of raising the question in 1745.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

STEPPING NORTHWARDS.

"It were to be wished the flaws were fewer In the earthen vessels holding treasure Which lies as safe in a golden ewer: But the main thing is, does it hold good measure?"

BROWNING.

I turned back to the table, and dropping the letter on it, I laid my head down upon my arms and wept bitterly. He who wrote it had done with the world and the world's things for ever. Words such as these were not of earth. They had come from the other side of the world-storm and the life's fever. And he was nearly there.

I wondered how much Flora understood. Did she guess anything of that unwhispered secret which he promised to tell her in the courts of Heaven? Had she ever given to Duncan Keith what he had given her?

I rose at last, and returned the letter to Annas.

"Thank you," I said. "You will be glad some day to have had that letter."

"I am glad now," said Annas, quietly, as she restored it to its place.

"And ere long we shall be glad together. The tears help the journey, not hinder it."

"How calm you are, Annas!" I said, wondering at her.

"The time for Miss Keith to be otherwise has not come yet," said Mr Raymond's voice behind me. "I think, Miss Courtenay, you have not seen much sorrow."

"I have not, Sir," said I, turning to him. "I think I have seen--and felt--more in the last six months than ever before."

"And I dare say you have grown more in that period," he made answer, "than in all the years before. You know in what sort of stature I mean."

He left us, and went up-stairs, and Ephraim came in soon after. I had no words with Flora alone, and only a moment with Annas. She came with us to the door.

"Does Flora understand?" I whispered, as I kissed Annas for good-bye.

"I think not, Cary. I hope not. It would be far better."

"_You_ do?" said I.

"I knew it long ago," she answered. "It is no new thing."

We went back to Bloomsbury Square, where I found in the drawing-room a whole parcel of visitors--Mrs Newton and her daughters, and a lot of the Pages (there are twelve of them), Sir Anthony Parmenter, and a young gentleman and gentlewoman who were strangers to me. Grandmamma called me up at once.

"Here, child," said she, "come and speak to your cousins. These are my brother's grandchildren--your second cousins, my dear." And she introduced them--Mr Roland and Miss Hilary Carlingford.

What contrasts there are in this world, to be sure! As my Cousin Hilary sat by me, and asked me if I went often to the play, and if I had seen Mrs Bellamy, [A noted actress of that day] and whether I loved music, and all those endless questions that people seem as if they must ask you when they first make acquaintance with you,--all at once there came up before me the white, calm face of Annas Keith, and the inner vision of Colonel Keith in his prison, waiting so patiently and heroically for death. And oh, how small did the one seem, and how grand the other!

Could there be a doubt which was nearer G.o.d?

A lump came up in my throat, which I had to swallow before I could tell Hilary that I loved old ballads and such things better than what they call cla.s.sical music, much of which seems to me like running up and down without any aim or tune to it--and she was giving me a tap with her fan, and saying,--