John Burnet of Barns Part 28

Master Veitch came out with a startled face and looked upon me with surprise.

"Is Marjory within?" I cried, "Marjory! Quick, tell me!"

"Marjory," he replied, and fell back with a white face. "Do you seek Marjory? She left here two day's agone to go to you, when you sent for her. Your servant Nicol went after her."

"O my G.o.d," I cried, "I am too late;" and I leaned against my horse in despair.

BOOK IV-THE WESTLANDS

CHAPTER I

I HEAR NO GOOD IN THE INN AT THE FORDS O' CLYDE

For a second I was so filled with despair at Master Veitch's news that my mind was the veriest blank and I could get no thought save that bitterest of all-that my lady was gone. But with a great effort I braced myself to action.

"And what of my servant Nicol?" I asked, and waited breathlessly for the answer.

"Oh, he was away on the hills seeking ye, Master Burnet. When he got no word Marjory was in sic a terror that nothing would suffice her but that he maun off to Tweeddale and seek every heather-buss for word of ye. He hadna been gone twae days when half-a-dozen men, or maybe more, came wi'

horse and a' and a letter frae you yoursel, seekin' the la.s.s. They said that a' was peaceably settled now, and that you had sent them to fetch her to meet you at Lanerick. I hadna a thocht but that it was a' richt and neither had the la.s.s, for she was blithe to gang. Next day, that was yestreen, here comes your servant Nicol wi' a face as red as a sodger's coat, and when he finds Marjory gone he sits down wi' his heid atween his hands and spak never a word to any man. Then aboot the darkening he gets up and eats a dinner as though he hadna seen meat for a twal'month. Then off he gangs, and tells na a soul where he was gaun." The old man had lost all his fine bearing and correct speech, and stood by the door s.h.i.+vering with age and anxiety.

A whirlwind of thoughts pa.s.sed through my mind. Now that the old order was at end, Gilbert's power had gone with it, and he was likely to find it go hard with him soon. There was but one refuge for him-in his own lands in the west, where, in his great house of Eaglesham or his town dwelling in Glasgow, he might find harborage; for the very fact that they were in the stronghold of the Whigs made them the more secure.

Thither he must have gone if he had any remnant of wit, and thither he had taken my lady. And with the thought my whole nature was steeled into one fierce resolve to follow him and call him to bitter account. My first fit of rage had left me, and a more deadly feeling had taken its place. This earth was too narrow a place for my cousin and me to live in, and somewhere in these Westlands I would meet him and settle accounts once and for all. It was not anger I felt, I give you my word.

Nay, it was a sense of some impelling fate behind driving me forward to meet this mm, who had crossed me so often. The torments of baffled love and frustrated ambition were all sunk in this one irresistible impulse.

I clambered on my horse once more, and a strange sight I must have seemed to the gaping servants and their astonished master.

"I am off on the quest," I cried, "but I will give you one word of news ere I go. The king has fled the land, and the Dutch William goes to the throne." And I turned and galloped down the avenue, leaving a throng of pale faces staring after my horse's tail.

Once on the road I lashed my animal into a mad gallop. Some devil seemed to have possessed me. I had oft thought fondly in the past that my nature was not such as the wild cavaliers whom I had seen, but more that of the calm and reasonable philosopher. Now I laughed bitterly at these vain imaginings. For when a man's heart is stirred to its bottom with love or hatred all surface graces are stripped from it and the old primeval pa.s.sions sway him, which swayed his father before him. But with all my heat I felt a new coolness and self-possession. A desperate calm held me. In a little all things would be settled, for this was the final strife, from which one or other of the combatants would never return.

The dull November eve came on me ere I reached the Clyde. 'Twas no vantage to ford the stream, so I rode down the left bank among the damp haughs and great sedgy pools. In a little I had come to the awful gorge where the water foams over many linns and the roar of the place is like the guns of an army. Here I left the stream side and struck into the country, whence I returned again nearly opposite the town of Lanark, at the broad, shallow place in the river, which folk call the Fords o'

Clyde.

Here there is a clachan of houses jumbled together in a crinkle of the hill, where the way from the Ayrs.h.i.+re moors to the capital comes down to the bank. Here there was an inn, an indifferent place, but quiet and little frequented; and since there was little to be got by going further I resolved to pa.s.s the night in the house. So I rode down the uneven way to where I saw the light brightest, and found the hostel by a swinging lamp over the door. So giving my horse to a stableman, with many strict injunctions as to his treatment, I entered the low doorway and found my way to the inn parlour.

From the place came a great racket of mirth, and as I opened the door a gla.s.s struck against the top and was s.h.i.+vered to pieces. Inside, around the long table, sat a round dozen of dragoons making merry after their boisterous fas.h.i.+on. One would have guessed little indeed from their faces that their occupation was gone, for they birled at the wine as if the times were twenty years back and King Charles (whom G.o.d rest) just come anew to his throne.

I had never seen the soldiers before, but I made a guess that they were disbanded men of my cousin's company, both from their air of exceeding braggadocio which clung to all who had any relation to Gilbert Burnet, and also since there were no soldiers in this special part of the Clyde dale save his. I was in no temper for such a racket, and had there been another room in the house I should have sought it; but the inn was small and little frequented, and the accommodation narrow at the best.

However, I must needs make the most of it, so shutting the door behind I sought a retired corner seat. I was still worn with my exertions of yesterday and weary with long riding, so I was blithe to get my limbs at rest.

But it was clear that three-fourths of the company were in the last state of drunkenness, and since men in liquor can never let well alone, they must needs begin to meddle with me.

"Gidden," said one, "what kind o' gentleman hae we here? I havena seen sic a fellow sin' yon steeple-jaick at Brochtoun Fair. D'ye think he wad be willin' to gie us a bit entertainment?"

Now you must remember that I still wore my suit of torn and dirty crimson, and with my stained face and long hair I must have cut a rare figure.

But had the thing gone no further than words I should never have stirred a finger in the matter, for when a man's energies are all bent upon some great quarrel, he has little stomach for lesser bickerings. But now one arose in a drunken frolic, staggered over to where I sat, and plucked me rudely by the arm. "Come ower," he said, "my man, and let'sh see ye dance the 'Nancy kilt her Coats.' You see here twelve honest sodgers whae will gie ye a penny a piece for the ploy."

"Keep your hands off," I said brusquely, "and hold your tongue. 'Twill be you that will do the dancing soon at the end of a tow on the castle hill, when King William plays the fiddle. You'll be brisker lads then."

"What," said he in a second, with drunken gravity. "Do I hear you shpeak treason against his majesty King James? Dod, I'll learn ye better." And he tugged at his sword, but being unable in his present state to draw it with comfort, he struck me a hard thwack over the shoulder, scabbard and all.

In a moment I was ablaze with pa.s.sion. I flung myself on the fellow, and with one buffet sent him rolling below the table. Then I was ashamed for myself, for a drunken man is no more fit for an honest blow than a babe or a woman.

But there was no time for shame or aught save action. Three men-the only three who were able to understand the turn of affairs-rose to their feet in a trice, and with drawn swords came towards me. The others sat stupidly staring, save two who had fallen asleep and rolled from their seats.

I picked up my chair, which was broad and heavy and of excellent stout oak, and held it before me like a s.h.i.+eld. I received the first man's awkward lunge full on it, and, thrusting it forward, struck him fair above the elbow, while his blade fell with a clatter on the floor.

Meantime the others were attacking me to the best of their power, and though they were singly feeble, yet in their very folly they were more dangerous than a mettlesome opponent, who will keep always in front and observe well the rules of the game. Indeed, it might have gone hard with me had not the door been flung violently open and the landlord entered, wringing his hands and beseeching, and close at his heels another man, very tall and thin and dark. At the sight of this second my heart gave a great bound and I cried aloud in delight. For it was my servant Nicol.

In less time than it takes to write it we had disarmed the drunken ruffians and reduced them to order. And, indeed, the task was not a hard one, for they were a vast deal more eager to sleep than to fight, and soon sank to their fitting places on the floor. Forbye they may have had some gleam of sense, and seen how perilous was their conduct in the present regiment of affairs. Then Nicol, who was an old acquaintance of the host's, led me to another room in the back of the house, where we were left in peace; and sitting by the fire told one another some fragment of our tales.

And first for his own, for I would speak not a word till he had told me all there was to tell. He had had much ado to get to Caerdon, for the hills were thick with the military, and at that wild season of the year there is little cover. When he found no letter he set off for the hiding-place above Sc.r.a.pe, where he knew I had been, and found it deserted. Thence he had shaped his way again to Smitwood with infinite labour and told Marjory the fruit of his errand. At this her grief had been so excessive that nothing would content her but that he must be off again and learn by hook or crook some word of my whereabouts. So began his wanderings among the hills, often attended with danger and always with hards.h.i.+p, but no trace of me could he find. At last, somewhere about the Moffat Water, he had forgathered with a single tinker whom he had once befriended in the old days when he had yet power to help. From this man he had learned that the Baillies had with them one whom he did not know for certain, but shrewdly guessed as the laird of Barns. With all speed he had set off on this new quest and followed me in my journey right to the moss of Biggar. Here all signs of the band came to an end, for most of the folk of the place knew naught of the airt of the gipsy flight, and such as knew were loth to tell, being little in a mood to incur the Baillies' wrath. So naught was left for him but to return to the place whence he had started. Here he was met with the bitter news that I have already set down. He was thrown into a state of utter despondency, and sat for long in a fine confusion of mind. Then he fell to reasoning. There was no place whither Gilbert could take a woman save his own house of Eaglesham, for Dawyck and Barns were too near the hills and myself. You must remember that at this time my servant had no inkling of the momentous event which had set our positions upside down.

Now, if they took her to the west they would do so with all speed; they had but one day's start; he might yet overtake them, and try if his wits could find no way out of the difficulty.

So off he set and came to this inn of the Clyde fords, and then he heard that on the evening before such a cavalcade had pa.s.sed as he sought.

But he learned something more the next morn; namely, that my cousin's power was wholly broken and that now I was freed from all suspicion of danger. Once more he fell into a confusion, but the one thing clear was that he must find me at all costs. He had heard of me last at the town of Biggar not fifteen miles off; when I heard the great news he guessed that I would ride straight for Smitwood; I would hear the tidings that the folk there had to tell, and, if he knew aught of me, I would ride straight, as he had done, on the track of the fugitives. So he turned back to the inn, and abode there awaiting me, and, lo! at nightfall I had come.

Then for long we spoke of my own wanderings, and I told him many tales of my doings and sufferings up hill and down dale, as did Ulysses to the Ithacan swineherd. But ere long we fell to discussing that far more momentous task which lay before us. It behooved us to be up and doing, for I had a horrid fear at my heart that my cousin might seek to reach the western seacoast and escape to France or Ireland, and thus sorely hinder my meeting with my love. I had no fear but that I should overtake him sooner or later, for fate had driven that lesson deep into my heart, and to myself I said that it was but a matter of days, or weeks, or maybe years, but not of failure. I was for posting on even at that late hour, but Nicol would have none of it.

"Look at your face i' the gless, sir," said he, "and tell me if ye look like muckle mair ridin' the day. Ye're fair forwandered wi' weariness and want o' sleep. And what for wad ye keep thae queer-like claes?

I'll get ye a new suit frae the landlord, decent man, and mak ye mair presentable for gaun intil the Wast."

I looked as he bade me in the low mirror, and saw my dark face, and wind-tossed hair, and my clothes of flaming crimson. Something in the odd contrast struck my fancy.

"Nay," I said, grimly, "I will bide as I am. I am going on a grim errand and I will not lay aside these rags till I have done that which I went for to do."

"Weel, weel, please yersel'," said my servant, jauntily, and he turned away, whistling and smiling to himself.

CHAPTER II

AN OLD JOURNEY WITH A NEW ERRAND

I slept like a log till the broad daylight on the next morn woke me, and with all speed I got up and dressed. I found myself much refreshed in body. My weariness was gone, and the dull languor which had oppressed me had given place to a singular freshness of spirit.

When I went below I found my servant ready and waiting, with the horses saddled and my meal prepared. The soldiers had gone early, paying no score; for when their liquor had left them they had wakened up to the solemn conviction that this countryside was not like to be a pleasant habitation for them for many months to come. So they had gone off to Heaven knows where, cutting my bridle-rein as a last token of their affection.

It was near ten o'clock ere we started, the two of us, on our road to the West. I had travelled it many times, for it was the way to Glasgow, and I found myself calling up, whether I would or no, a thousand half-sad and half-pleasing memories. At this place I had stopped to water my horse, at this cottage I had halted for an hour, at this hostel I had lain the night. Had I not looked at my comrade every now and then, I might have fancied that I was still the schoolboy, with his wide interest in letters and life, and little knowledge of either, with half a dozen letters in his pocket, looking forward with fear and hope to town and college. Heigh-ho! Many things had come and gone since then, and here was I still the same boy, but ah! how tossed and buffeted and perplexed. Yet I would not have bartered my present state for those careless and joyous years, for after all this is a rugged world, with G.o.d knows how many sore straits and devilish temptations, but with so many fair and valiant rewards, that a man is a coward indeed who would not battle through the one for the sweet sake of the other.