CHAPTER XIV
THE AFTERMATH
At Edinburgh we received check one. Aileen's aunt had left for theHighlands the week before in a fine rage because the Duke of Cumberland,who had foisted himself upon her unwilling hospitality, had eaten her outof house and home, then departing had borne away with him her cherishedhousehold _penates_ to the value of some hundred pounds. Years later MajorWolfe told me with twinkling eyes the story of how the fiery little ladycame to him with her tale of woe. If she did not go straight to the dourDuke it was because he was already out of the city and beyond her reach.Into Wolfe's quarters she bounced, rage and suspicion speaking eloquent inher manner.
"Hech, sir! Where have ye that Dutch Prince of yours?" she demanded ofWolfe, her keen eyes ranging over him.
"'Pon honour, madam, I have not him secreted on my person," returned theMajor, gravely turning inside out his pockets for her.
The spirited old lady glowered at him.
"It's ill setting ye to be sae humoursome," she told him frankly. "It wadbe better telling ye to answer ceevilly a ceevil question, my birkie."
"If I can be of any service, madam----"
"Humph, service! And that's just it, my mannie. The ill-faured tykes haerampaigned through the house and taen awa' my bonnie silver tea servicethat I hae scoured every Monday morning for thirty-seven years comeMichelmas, forby the fine Holland linen that my father, guid carefu' man,brought frae the continent his nainsel."
"I am sorry----"
"Sorry! Hear till him," she snorted. "Muckle guid your sorrow will do meunless----" her voice fell to a wheedling cajolery--"you just be a guidladdie and get me back my linen and the silver."
"The Duke has a partiality for fine bed linen, and quaint silver devicesare almost a mania with him. Perhaps some of your other possessions"--
"His Dutch officers ate me out of house and home. They took awa' eightsacks of the best lump sugar."
"The army is in need of sugar. I fear it is not recoverable."
Miss MacBean had a way of affecting deafness when the occasion suitedher.
"Eih, sir! Were you saying you wad see it was recovered? And my silver setwi' twenty solid teaspoons, forby the linen?" she asked anxiously, herhand to her ear.
Wolfe smiled.
"I fear the Duke----"
"Ou ay, I ken fine you fear him. He's gurly enough, Guid kens."
"I was about to say, madam, that I fear the Duke will regard them asspoils from the enemy not to be given up."
The Major was right. Miss MacBean might as well have saved her breath tocool her porridge, for the Duke carried her possessions to London despiteher remonstrances. Five years later as I was passing by a pawnbroker'sshop on a mean street in London Miss MacBean's teapot with its curiousdevice of a winged dragon for a spout caught my eye in the window. Theshopkeeper told me that it had been sold him by a woman of the demi-mondewho had formerly been a mistress of the Duke of Cumberland. She said thatit was a present from his Royal Highness, who had taken the silver servicefrom the house of a fiery rebel lady in the north.
Our stay in the Scottish capital was of the shortest. In the early morningwe went knocking at the door of Miss MacBean's house. All day I kept undercover and in the darkness of night we slipped out of the city southwestbound. Of that journey, its sweet comradeship, its shy confidences, itsperpetual surprises for each of us in discovering the other, I have notime nor mind to tell. The very danger which was never absent from ourtravel drew us into a closer friendliness. Was there an option between tworoads, or the question of the desirability of putting up at a certain inn,our heads came together to discuss it. Her pretty confidence in me wastouching in the extreme. To have her hold me a Captain Greatheart made mysoul glad, even though I knew my measure did not fit the specifications bya mile. Her trust in me was less an incense to my vanity than a spur to mymanhood.
The mere joy of living flooded my blood with happiness in those days. Ivow it made me a better man to breathe the same air as she, to hear thelilt of her merry laugh and the low music of her sweet voice. Not a curvein that dimpled cheek I did not love; not a ripple in the russet hair myhungry eyes had not approved. When her shy glance fell on me I rode in thesunshine of bluest sky. If by chance her hand touched mine, my veinsleaped with the wine of it. Of such does the happiness of youth consist.
'Tis strange how greedy love is in its early days of the past from whichit has been excluded, how jealous sometimes of the point of contact withother lives in the unknown years which have gone to make up the rungs ofthe ladder of life. I was never tired of hearing of her childhood on thebraes of Raasay: how she guddled for mountain trout in the burn with herbrother Murdoch or hung around his neck chains of daisies in childishglee. And she-- Faith, she drew me out with shy questions till that partof my life which would bear telling must have been to her a book learnedby rote.
Yet there were times when we came near to misunderstanding of each other.The dear child had been brought up in a houseful of men, her mother havingdied while she was yet an infant, and she was in some ways still innocentas a babe. The circumstances of our journey put her so much in my powerthat I, not to take advantage of the situation, sometimes held myself withundue stiffness toward her when my every impulse was to tenderness.Perhaps it might be that we rode through woodland in the falling duskwhile the nesting birds sang madrigals of love. Longing with all my heartto touch but the hem of her gown, I would yet ride with a wooden face setto the front immovably, deaf to her indirect little appeals forfriendliness. Presently, ashamed of my gruffness, I would yield to thesweetness of her charm, good resolutions windwood scattered, and woo herwith a lover's ardour till the wild-rose deepened in her cheek.
"Were you ever in love before, Kennie?" she asked me once, twisting at abutton of my coat. We were drawing near Manchester and had let thepostillion drive on with the coach, while we loitered hand in hand throughthe forest of Arden. The azure sky was not more blue than the eyes whichlifted shyly to mine, nor the twinkling stars which would soon gaze downon us one half so bright.
I laughed happily. "Once--in a boy's way--a thousand years ago."
"And were you caring for her--much?"
"Oh, vastly."
"And she--wass she loving you too?"
"More than tongue could tell, she made me believe."
"Oh, I am not wondering at that," said my heart's desire. "Of course shewould be loving you."
'Twas Aileen's way to say the thing she thought, directly, in headlongHighland fashion. Of finesse she used none. She loved me (oh, a thousandtimes more than I deserved!) and that was all there was about it. To beashamed of her love or to hide it never, I think, occurred to her. Whatmore natural then than that others should think of me as she did?
"Of course," I said dryly. "But in the end my sweetheart, plighted to mefor all eternity, had to choose betwixt her lover and something she hadwhich he much desired. She sighed, deliberated long--full five seconds Ivow--and in end played traitor to love. She was desolated to lose me, butthe alternative was not to be endured. She sacrificed me for a raspberrytart. So was shattered young love's first dream. 'Tis my only consolationthat I snatched the tart and eat it as I ran. Thus Phyllis lost both herlover and her portion. Ah, those brave golden days! The world, anunexplored wonder, lay at my feet. She was seven, I was nine."
"Oh." There was an odd little note of relief in the velvet voice thatseemed to reproach me for a brute. I was forever forgetting that the waysof 'Toinette Westerleigh were not the ways of Aileen Macleod.
The dying sun flooded the topmost branches of the forest foliage. My eyescame round to the aureole which was their usual magnet.
"When the sun catches it 'tis shot with glints of gold."
"It is indeed very beautiful."
"In cloudy weather 'tis a burnished bronze."
She looked at me in surprise.
"Bronze! Surely you are meaning green?"
"Not I, bronze. Again you might swear it russet."
"
That will be in the autumn when they are turning colour just before thefall."
"No, that is when you have it neatly snodded and the firelight plays aboutyour head."
She laughed, flushing. "You will be forever at your foolishness, Kenn. Ithought you meant the tree tips."
"Is the truth foolishness?"
"You are a lover, Kennie. Other folks don't see that when they look atme."
"Other folks are blind," I maintained, stoutly.
"If you see all that I will be sure that what they say is true and love isblind."
"The wise man is the lover. He sees clear for the first time in his life.The sun shines for him--and her. For them the birds sing and the flowersbloom. For them the world was made. They----"
"Whiles talk blethers," she laughed.
"Yes, they do," I admitted. "And there again is another sign of wisdom.Your ponderous fool talks pompous sense always. He sees life in only onefacet. Your lover sees its many sides, its infinite variety. He can laughand weep; his imagination lights up dry facts with whimsical fancies; hedives through the crust of conventionality to the realities of life. 'Tisthe lover keeps this old world young. The fire of youth, of eternallaughing youth, runs flaming through his blood. His days are radiant, hisnights enchanted."
"I am thinking you quite a poet."
"Was there ever a better subject for a poem? Life would be poetry writinto action if all men were lovers--and all women Aileens."
"Ah, Kenneth! This fine talk I do not understand. It's sheer nonsense totell such idle clavers about me. Am I not just a plain Highland lassie, asunskilled in flattering speeches as in furbelows and patches? Gin you willplay me a spring on the pipes I'll maybe can dance you the fling, but ofFrench minuets I have small skill."
"Call me dreamer if you will. By Helen's glove, your dreamer might be theenvy of kings. Since I have known you life has taken a different hue. Onelives for years without joy, pain, colour, all things toned to the dullmonochrome of gray, and then one day the contact with another soulquickens one to renewed life, to more eager unselfish living. Never sobright a sun before, never so beautiful a moon. 'Tis true, Aileen. No fearbut one, that Fate, jealous, may snatch my love from me."
Her laughter dashed my heroics; yet I felt, too, that back of her smilesthere was belief.
"I dare say. At the least I will have heard it before. The voice issJacob's voice, but----"
I blushed, remembering too late that my text and its application were bothVolney's.
"'Tis true, even if Jacob said it first. If a man is worth his salt lovemust purify him. Sure it must. I am a better man for knowing you."
A shy wonder filled her eyes; thankfulness too was there.
"Yet you are a man that has fought battles and known life, and I am onlyan ignorant girl."
I lifted her hand and kissed it.
"You are my queen, and I am your most loyal and devoted servant."
"For always, Kenn? When you are meeting the fine ladies of London will youlove a Highland lassie that cannot make eyes and swear choicely?"
"Forever and a day, dear."
Aileen referred to the subject again two hours later when we arose fromthe table at the Manchester ordinary. It was her usual custom to retire toher room immediately after eating. To-night when I escorted her to thedoor she stood for a moment drawing patterns on the lintel with her fan. Afine blush touched her cheek.
"Were you meaning all that, Kennie?"
"All what, dear heart?"
"That--nonsense--in the forest."
"Every bit of it."
Her fan spelt Kenneth on the door.
"Sometimes," she went on softly, "a fancy is built on moonlight andlaughing eyes and opportunity. It iss like sunshine in winter onRaasay--just for an hour and then the mists fall."
"For our love there will be no mists."
"Ah, Kenn, you think so now, but afterward, when you take up again yourLondon life, and I cannot play the lady of fashion, when you weary of mysimpleness and are wishing me back among the purple heather hills?"
"That will be never, unless I wish myself there with you. I am no LondonMohawk like Volney. To tramp the heather after muircocks or to ride tohounds is more my fancy. The Macaronis and I came long since to theparting of the ways. I am for a snug home in the country with the woman Ilove."
I stepped to the table, filled a glass with wine, and brought it to her.
"Come, love! We will drink together. How is it old Ben Jonson hath it?
"'Drink to me only with thine eyes, And I will pledge with mine; Or leave a kiss but in the cup, And I'll not look for wine. The thirst that from the soul doth rise Doth seek a drink divine; But might I of Jove's nectar sup I would not change from thine.'
"Drink, sweetheart."
She tasted, then I drained the glass and let it fall from my fingers toshiver on the floor.
Before we parted Aileen had one more word for me, "Kennie."
"Yes, dear heart," I cried, and was back at her side in a moment.
"What you said in the woods--I am knowing it all true. It is greatfoolishness, but my heart is singing the same song," and with that shewhipped the door to in my face.
I sauntered into the common room, found a seat by the fireplace, and letmy eye wander over the company. There were present some half dozen yokels,the vicar's curate, a country blood or two, and a little withered runt ofa man in fustian with a weazened face like a wrinkled pippin. The moment Iclapped eyes on him there came to my mind the dim recollection of a formeracquaintance and the prescient fear of an impending danger. That I hadseen him I was ready to take oath, yet I could not put my finger upon thecircumstances. But the worst of it was that the old fellow recognized me,unless I were much mistaken, for his eyes never left me from the first.
From my mother I have inherited a Highland jauntiness which comes stealingover me when sobriety would set me better. Let the situation be adifferent one, uncertain of solution, with heads tipping in the balance,and an absurd spirit of recklessness straightway possesses me. But now,with this dear child on my hands, carelessness and I were far apart as thepoles. Anxiety gripped me, and I sweated blood. Yet I must play thecareless traveller, be full of good stories, unperturbed on the surfaceand apparently far from alarm. I began to overdo the part, recognized thefact, and grew savage at myself. Trying to conciliate him, I was free withthe ale, and again overdid it.
He drank my ale and listened to my stories, but he sat cocking on his seatlike an imp of mischief. I rattled on, insouciant and careless to allappearances, but in reality my heart like lead. Behind my smiling lips Icursed him up hill and down dale. Lard, his malicious grin was a thing torile the gods! More than once I wake up in the night from dreaming thathis scrawny hand was clapping the darbies on my wrists.
When we were ready to start next morning the post boy let me know that oneof the horses had gone lame. Here was a pretty pickle. I pished andpshawed, but in the end had to scour the town to find another in itsplace. 'Twas well on toward noon when the boy and I returned to theordinary with a nag that would serve.
Of other lovers I have scant knowledge, but the one I know was wont tocherish the memory of things his love had said and how she had said them;with what a pretty tilt to her chin, with what a daring shyness of theeyes, with what a fine colour and impetuous audacity she had done this orlooked that. He was wont in advance to plan out conversations, to decidethat he would tell her some odd brain fancy and watch her while he toldit. Many an hour he spent in the fairy land of imagination; many a one hedreamed away in love castles built of fancied rambles in enchanted woods,of sweet talks in which he always said and did the right thing; destinedalas! never to pass from mind to speech, for if ever tongue essayed thetelling it faltered some fatuous abortion as little like love's dream asCaliban resembled Ariel. Fresh from the brave world of day-dreams, stillsmiling happily from some whimsical
conceit as well as with anticipationof Aileen's gladness at sight of me, I passed through the courtyard andinto the ordinary.
A hubbub at the foot of the stairway attracted me. A gaping crowd wasgathered there about three central figures. My weasened pippin-face of themalicious grin was one of them; a broad-shouldered, fair-faced and verymuch embarrassed young officer in the King's uniform stood beside him; andfrom the stairway some three steps up Aileen, plainly frightened, frontedthem and answered questions in her broken English.
"I am desolated to distress you, madam," the boy officer was saying, "butthis man has laid an information with me that there is a rebel in yourparty, one who was in Manchester with the Pretender's force some monthssince. It will be necessary that I have speech with him."
"There iss no rebel with me, sir. The gentleman with whom I travel iss ofmost approved loyalty," she faltered.
"Ah! He will no doubt be able to make that clear to me. May I ask where heis at present?"
Aileen went white as snow. Her distress was apparent to all.
"Sir, I do entreat you to believe that what I say iss true," she criedwhitely.
The little rat in fustian broke out screaming that he would swear to meamong ten thousand: as to the girl she must be the rebel's accomplice, hismistress mayhap. Aileen, her big, anxious eyes fixed on the officer,shrank back against the stair rail at her accuser's word. The ladcommanded him sharply to be quiet, but with the utmost respect let Aileenunderstand that he must have talk with me.
All this one swift glance had told me, and at this opportune moment Isauntered up, Volney's snuff-box in my hand. If the doubt possessed me asto how the devil I was to win free from this accusation, I trust no shadowof fear betrayed itself in my smirking face.
"Egad, here's a gathering of the clans. Hope I'm not _de trop_," Isimpered.
The lieutenant bowed to me with evident relief.
"On the contrary, sir, if you are the gentleman travelling with this ladyyou are the desired complement to our party. There has been some doubtexpressed as to you. This man here claims to have recognized you as one ofthe Pretender's army; says he was present when you bought provisions for atroop of horsemen during the rebel invasion of this town."
"'Slife, perhaps I'm Charles Stuart himself," I shrugged.
"I swear to him. I swear to him," screamed fustian.
On my soul merely to look at the man gave me a nausea. His whitemalevolence fair scunnered me.
I adjusted Volney's eye-glass with care and looked the fellow over with acandid interest, much as your scientist examines a new specimen.
"What the plague! Is this rusty old last year's pippin an evidence againstme? Rot me, he's a pretty scrub on which to father a charge against agentleman, Lud, his face is a lie. No less!"
"May I ask your name, sir, and your business in this part of the country?"said the lieutenant.
Some impulse--perhaps the fact that I was wearing his clothes--put it intomy head to borrow Volney's name. There was risk that the lad might havemet the baronet, but that was a contingency which must be ventured. Itbrought him to like a shot across a lugger's bows.
"Sir Robert Volney, the friend of the Prince," he said, patentlyastonished.
"The Prince has that honour," I smiled.
"Pray pardon my insistence. Orders from headquarters," says heapologetically.
I waved aside his excuses peevishly.
"Sink me, Sir Robert Volney should be well enough known not to be badgeredby every country booby with a king's commission. Lard, I vow I'll have achange when Fritz wears the crown."
With that I turned on my heel in a simulation of petty anger, offered myarm to Aileen, and marched up the stairs with her. My manner and my speechwere full of flowered compliments to her, of insolence to the younggentleman below, for there is nothing more galling to a man's pride thanto be ignored.
"'Twas the only way," I said to Aileen when the door was closed on usabove. "'Tis a shame to flout an honest young gentleman so, but in suchfashion the macaroni would play the part. Had I stayed to talk with him hemight have asked for my proof. We're well out of the affair."
But we were not out of it yet. I make no doubt that no sooner was my backturned than the little rat in fustian, his mind set on a possible reward,was plucking at the lad's sleeve with suggestions and doubts. In any casethere came presently a knock at the door. I opened. The boy officer wasthere with a red face obstinately set.
"Sir, I must trouble you again," he said icily. "You say you are SirRobert Volney. I must ask you for proofs."
At once I knew that I had overdone my part. It had been better to havedealt with this youth courteously; but since I had chosen my part, I mustplay it.
"Proofs," I cried blackly. "Do you think I carry proofs of my identity forevery country bumpkin to read? Sink me, 'tis an outrage."
He flushed, but hung doggedly to his point.
"You gain nothing by insulting me, Sir Robert. I may be only a poor lineofficer and you one high in power, but by Heaven! I'm as good a man asyou," cried the boy; then rapped out, "I'll see your papers, if you haveme broke for it."
My papers! An inspiration shot into my brain. When Volney had substitutedfor me at Portree he had given me a pass through the lines, made out inhis name and signed by the Duke of Cumberland, in order that I mightpresent it if challenged. Hitherto I had not been challenged, and indeed Ihad forgotten the existence of it, but now-- I fished out the sheet ofparchment and handed it to the officer. His eye ran over the passport, andhe handed it back with a flushed face.
"I have to offer a thousand apologies for troubling you, Sir Robert. Thispaper establishes your identity beyond doubt."
"Hope you're quite satisfied," I said with vast irony.
"Oh, just one more question. The lady travelling with you?"
I watched him silently.
"She is from the Highlands, is she not?" he asked.
"Is she?"
"To be sure 'tis sufficient if Sir Robert Volney vouches for her."
"Is it?"
"And of course the fact that she travels in his company----"
My answer was a yawn, half stifled behind my hand. The lad glared at me,in a rage at me for my insolence and at himself for his boyish inabilityto cope with it. Then he swung on his heel and stamped down-stairs. Fiveyears later I met him at a dinner given by a neighbour of mine in thecountry, and I took occasion then to explain to him my intolerableconduct. Many a laugh we have since had over it.
We reached London on a dismal Wednesday when the rain was pouring down insheets. Aileen I took at once to our town house that she might be withCloe, though I expected to put up with my old nurse in another part of thecity. I leave you to conceive the surprise of Charles and my sister whenwe dropped in on them.
The news they had for us was of the worst. Every week witnessed theexecution of some poor Jacobites and the arrival of a fresh batch to taketheir place in the prisons. The Scotch Lords Balmerino, Cromartie andKilmarnock were already on trial and their condemnation was a foregoneconclusion. The thirst for blood was appalling and not at all glutted bythe numerous executions that had already occurred. 'Twas indeed for me amost dismal home-coming.