CHAPTER LIV.

[Contents]CHAPTER LIV.Sir Andrew’s Deep-laid Plot—An Unexpected Arrival.MacCormick proceeded in quest of Spears, and Sir Andrew Stewart continued to pace backwards and forwards upon the green sward outside the rampart wall, pondering how he might best open the negotiation. It was already dark; and, villain as he was, he felt thankful that it was so, for he had ever been accustomed to set so much value on outward reputation, that he was ashamed to lift the veil, even to him whom he was about to make an accomplice in his crimes. Footsteps were at last heard approaching softly, and Rory and MacCormick saluted him.“Master Spears,” said Sir Andrew Stewart, “this is a troublesome task the Earl hath imposed on thee.”“Task!” replied Rory, in a gruff ill-humoured tone; “I carena mokell how dour his tasks be, so he be present himsel for to see me fulfil them; but to cast his trusty servant frae his back—me, wha used to be tied, as I mought say, till his horse’s curpin, and to tak a parcel o’ young loons to the wars wi’ him, is enew to break ane auld crazy heart like mine.”“’Tis indeed a bitter reproach on thee, Rory,” said Sir Andrew, “and but little amended by the service thou art put upon. But what doth hinder thee to return? Surely I may save thee all this long and painful journey. My protection, methinks, may suffice for the lady.”“Na, na,” replied Rory impatiently, being secretly nettled at the cheap rate at which his services were apparently held by the man he despised; “na, na—thy protection, Sir Andrew Stewart, that is to say, the protection o’ thy stout lances yonder, may be a’ weel enew; but I maun not at no rate be kend to slight the wull o’ my lord the Yearl; and to leave the lass, and gang back afore the journey be weel begood—hoot, that wadna do at a’.”“Thou sayest true, Rory,” replied Sir Andrew; “but thou knowest I have ever been a friend to thee, and I would fain do thee a good turn on this occasion. Methinks I have hit on a scheme for saving thee thy pains and travel, preserving thy good character for fidelity to the Earl, and, finally, putting a purse of gold into thy pouch.”[385]“Ay!” replied Rory, in a tone of surprise. “By St. Lowry, an’ thou canst make a’ that good, thou wilt work marvels, Sir Andrew.”“Nay, ’twill need no conjurer,” said Sir Andrew Stewart. “Keep thou but out of the way this night, and see that thou dost keep the old minstrel with thee. Thou canst not sleep in the lady’s chamber, thou knowest, therefore it is but natural to leave the entire charge of her to me, who am to spend the night in MacCraw’s kitchen. And then—d’ye mark me—if the lady should chance to disappear during the night, no one knowing how, the blame must of needscost fall on me alone. Thou mayest then yede thee back with thy daughter to the Countess to-morrow to tell the tale; nay, peraunter, I may go with thee to make all matters smooth, by the confession of my careless watch; and so thou shalt hie thee after the Earl, and may yet join his standard in the field. Dost thou comprehend me now, friend Rory?”Rory stood silently pondering over the tempting proposal. Sir Andrew Stewart drew forth the purse of gold, and the broad pieces chinked against each other as he dangled it in his hand. Their music was most seducing.“Give me the purse,” said Rory at length.“’Tis thine,” cried the overjoyed Sir Andrew Stewart; “I know thee to be faithful, and I fear me not but that thou wilt earn it.”“I will do my best to deserve it,” replied Rory.“Quick, then, to thy duty,” said Sir Andrew Stewart. “Be it thine to see that no one may approach the tower who might disturb our plans.”“The safety of my daughter Kate must be secured to me,” said Rory.“I am answerable for it,” replied Sir Andrew Stewart. “If I can so arrange it, she shall be committed to thine own care; but if I should be defeated in this matter, she shall sleep in the highest chamber, where she may be out of the way. But, happen what will, her safety shall be mine especial care.”The conference being thus ended, Sir Andrew Stewart returned to partake of the meal which MacCraw had by this time prepared. A manifest change had taken place in his manner. His conversation was gay and sprightly, and he was so entertaining that the lady sat listening to him for some time after supper. At length the fatigue she had undergone began to overcome her, and she signified her wish to retire to rest. Katherine Spears, who had been out and in more than once during the[386]meal, now lifted a lamp to light her mistress upstairs to the principal apartment in the tower, which was destined to receive her.“Katherine,” said Sir Andrew Stewart, carelessly, after having paid his parting evening compliments, “when thou hast done with thine attendance on thy lady, MacCraw will show thee the way to where thy father is lodged, where a bed hath been prepared for thee also.”“Nay, Sir Knight,” replied Katherine, with uncommon energy, “I will at no rate quit the tower, though I should sit up all night by this fire.”“That as thou mayest list, my maiden,” said Sir Andrew Stewart, with the same tone he had already spoken in; “I did but wish to give thee the best harbour the place might yield. But now I think on’t, the high chamber may do well enow for thee after all. Here—drink thy lady’s health in the remnant of her wine-cup, ere thou goest.”Katherine did so, and then tripped up stairs before her mistress. She no sooner found herself fairly within the door of the lady’s apartment, than she shut it behind her, and began to look eagerly for the bolt, and she exhibited no small dismay when she saw that it had been recently removed. Trembling with agitation, she then conducted the lady with a hurried step towards a pallet-bed, which had been prepared for her in one corner of the place, and seating her on the blankets—“Oh, my lady, my lady,” whispered she, half breathless with alarm, “I fear that some foul treachery may be designed against thee. Whilst thou didst sit at thy meal I didst step me up hither to see thy couch prepared, and as I returned through the lower passage, I overheard certain voices in the little vault to the right—‘When is it to be done?’ said one. ‘It must not be until late in the night,’ replied another, ‘for we must be sure that she sleeps.’ ‘Ay, and her Abigail alswa,’ said the first man. ‘Nay, I trust that she will be without the tower, for she would spoil all,’ said the other. Just then as I was listening, the outer door of the tower was slowly opened, and my father’s head slowly appeared. He drew back when he saw me. I ran out to him. ‘Help, help, father,’ said I to him in a whisper, ‘or the lady will surely be the victim of treachery.’ ”“And thy father,” said the lady, stretching eagerly towards her damsel—“what did thy father say?”“He laughed at me, lady,” replied Katherine, hesitating—“he laughed at my fears.”“But what were his words?—give me his very words, I entreat thee,” anxiously demanded the lady.[387]“His words, lady,” replied Katherine—“his words were but those of a bold man, who scorneth the fears of a weak woman. Trust me, he must be faithful, lady.”“Ay, Katherine, but his words—what were his very words?” asked the lady, with the same eagerness of manner.“Nay, indeed, they were naught, lady,” replied Katherine, “but thou shalt have them as they did drop from his very mouth. ‘Tush! foolish quean,’ said he in a tone of displeasure at what he did suppose to be my silly apprehension; ‘where sould there be treachery, thinkest thou? But an there sould, tell thy lady that Rory Spears is ane auld fusionless doited dolt-head, as unfit for stoure and strife as for war-stratagem. What did cause his being left behind his lord the Yearl, but superannuation? The silly coof, Sir Andrew Stewart, guse though he be, is mair to be lippened till than Rory Spears. But get thee in, lass, and tend on thy mistress;’ and so saying he opened the door of the tower, and shuffled me by the shoulder into the kitchen where thou didst sit at supper. In vain did I try to catch thine eye after I entered. But oh, sweet lady, believe not that my father can be traitor to thee.”“His words have spoken him to be anything rather than my protector,” replied the lady, pale with alarm at what her maid had told her. “But,” added she, with a forced smile, “thou hast redeemed his sin by nobly resolving to share my danger, when thou hadst the opportunity of escaping from it. As it is, I must prepare me for the worst. I have still a dagger, and weak as is mine arm, it shall do bloody work ere I do yield to such villainy; yet, after all, thou mayest have mistaken the words thou didst hear. Let us trust to God and the Holy Virgin, then, and, above all things, let us put up special prayers for protection from Her, who is purity itself.”The lady and her maiden knelt down together, and joined in earnest devotion, that was only damped at times as fancy led them to imagine they heard a soft tread on the stair, or a suppressed breathing at the door of the chamber. When their orisons were ended, they sat silent for some time. All was already quiet below, and an unaccountable and perfectly uncontrollable sleep, that seemed to bid defiance even to their apprehensions, was stealing insidiously upon them. Just at this moment Katherine Spears uttered a short and faint scream, and had nearly swooned away. The lady started up in a frenzy of alarm, and drew her dagger, when, much to her astonishment as well as to her relief, she perceived the large wolf-hound that had followed Rory Spears, which, having unceremoniously put[388]his cold nose into Katherine’s well-known hand, had produced the damsel’s sudden panic. The lady and her attendant viewed the unexpected appearance of this mute defender as an especial interposition procured for them by their prayers. But the scream, though scarcely audible, might have been heard below, and they listened in quaking dread. All continued quiet underneath them. But, as they still listened, they distinctly heard a heavy footstep cautiously planted, but, to their utter amazement, it came from above downwards. The lady grasped her dagger more firmly, and wound up her determination to use it, if need should demand it. The steps still came stealing down the turret stair that communicated with the uppermost apartment, and at last the bulky form of Rory Spears, gaud-clip and all, appeared before them.“Heaven be praised!” murmured Katherine, as she sprang to meet her father. “By what miracle of Heaven’s mercy art thou here?”The lady stood aloof with her dagger clenched, still doubtful of his errand.“And what for needs ye ask?” said Rory to his daughter, with a certain archness of expression quite his own. “Hath not my Lord the Yearl o’ Moray made a tirewoman o’ me? and was Rory Spears ever kend to be backward at his Lord’s bidding? Verily, it behoveth me not to desert mine occupation. So I am here to do my new mistress’s wark, I promise thee.”“May Heaven grant that thou mayest not have something more cruel to do to-night than attend on dames,” said Katherine Spears; “yet verily thy coming is most providential, for assuredly we are sore beset with treachery.”“Ay, ay, I ken a’ that,” replied Rory; “and troth it was the very thoughts o’ a bicker that pat the pet out o’ me, and wiled me hither. But stap ye baith yere ways up the stair there, and liggen ye down quietly, and leave me here to deal with whomsoever may come.”“He is true to thee, after all, lady,” said Katherine with exultation.“I rejoice to see that he is faithful,” replied the lady; “may St. Andrew reward him! Already are my fears banished, but irresistible sleep oppresses me. I feel as if I had swallowed some potent drug. I cannot keep my head up.”“Nay, Katherine nods too,” said Rory; “by the mass, some sleepy potion must have been mingled with your wine. Let me help ye both upstairs; ay, there ye may rest in quiet,” said he, as he set down the lamp and was preparing to leave[389]them, “and I’se leave Oscar with ye as a guard, for the loon had nae business here, and wi’ me he might spoil sport;” and saying so, he tied up the dog beside them, and ere he had done which both were in a profound sleep.Having returned to the apartment below, Rory threw himself down on the bed, and huddled himself up in the blankets, with his inseparable companion the gaud-clip by his side, and there he lay patiently to watch the event, until, the fire falling low on the hearth, the darkness and his own drowsiness overcame his vigilance, and he fell into deep oblivion.He had not lain long in this state when the door slowly opened, and the head of Sir Andrew Stewart appeared. Over it there was a lamp, which he held up in his hand, so as to throw a glimmer of light into the farther corner of the place. He paused for a moment, and seeing the form of a figure within the blankets, and observing that all was quiet, he withdrew the lamp.“She sleeps,” whispered he to his esquire and the two men who were with him; “the potion hath worked as it ought. Approach the bed, yet be cautious; rude carelessness might break her slumbers. Let her not be awakened while she is within earshot of those within the place; ye may be less scrupulous anon. Approach and lift her up in the blanket; her weight can be but as that of an infant in such hands.”“No sike infant, I wot,” muttered one of the men to the other, as they strained to lift up the blanket with the enormous carcase of Rory Spears in it.“By the mass, but she is a load for a wain,” said the other.“Be silent, ye profane clowns,” said Sir Andrew.“St. Roque, how she doth snore!” said the first, in a lower voice.“Silence, I say, villains,” said Sir Andrew, “silence, and bear her this way.”“Hold, hold, Murdoch, the blanket is slipping,” said one; “keep up your end, or we are done with her.”“Hout, she’s gone,” cried Murdoch, as his end of the blanket slipped altogether, and Rory was rolled on the floor.Though Rory had slept, his mind had been so fully possessed with the action he had prepared himself to expect, that he had dreamt of nothing else. He was no sooner rudely awakened by the shock of his fall than his mind became full of his duty.“Ha, villains,” cried he, starting to his legs in a moment, and roaring to the full extent of his rough voice, as he flourished his gaud-clip around him in the dark like a flail; “ha, caitiffs,[390]have I caught ye? What, would ye dare to lay impure hands on the tender form of a lady of sike high degree? By St. Lowry, but I’ll settle ye, knaves.”All was now confusion. The knight and his instruments sought for the door with a haste that almost defeated their object. Precedence was by no means attended to; and Sir Andrew Stewart, being jostled aside, received a chance blow from Rory’s gaud-clip that prostrated him senseless on the floor. The squire and the two men rushed down stairs, with Rory hard at their heels, and were making towards the door of the tower when it suddenly opened, and a party of horsemen appeared without.“Halt!” cried a voice like thunder, that instantly arrested the flight of the fugitives, and sent them, crouching like chidden curs, into the kitchen. The light that was there showed the terror and dismay of their countenance, and it also explained the cause, for he who entered was the Wolfe of Badenoch.“What rabble and uproar is this in the lone peel-tower of Duncriddel?” demanded he. “Ha, Alister MacCraw, what guests be these thou hast got? Ha, Erick MacCormick and my son Andrew’s people! What a murrain hath brought thee here, Master Esquire? Ha—speak. Where is the worthy knight thy master?”“My Lord—my master, Sir Andrew—my Lord—” replied MacCormick, hesitating from very fear.“Ha! and Rory Spears too,” continued the Wolfe; “what dost thou make here, old ottercap? Speak, and expound the cause of this uproar, if thou canst.”“I will, my Lord,” said Rory, “and that in sike short speech as I well ken thou lovest to have a tale dished up to thee. Sir Andrew Stewart, thy son, did covenant wi’ my leddy the Countess o’ Moray, thy sister, to convoy ane Englisher leddy safe frae Tarnawa to Norham, and sure enew he brought her here, being sae muckle o’ the gate; but having no fear o’ God or the Saunts afore his eyne, he did basely try to betray her, just the noo, afore I cam doon the stairs there.”“Ha, hypocritical villain! cried the Wolfe. “By Saint Barnabas, but I have long had a thought that his affected purity was but a cloak for his incontinence.”“’Tis all a fabrication,” cried MacCormick, who had now recovered his presence of mind so far as to endeavour to defend his master, though at the expense of truth; “’tis fearful to hear sike wicked falsehoods against thy son Sir Andrew Stewart.”“My Lord Yearl,” cried Rory, taking Sir Andrew’s purse of[391]gold from his pouch, “an thou believest that I do lie, here is a soothfast witness to what I have uttered.”“Ha! my son Andrew’s purse, with his cipher on it,” cried the Wolfe, casting a hasty glance at it. “How camest thou by this, Master Spears?”Rory quickly told the Wolfe of the attempt made by Sir Andrew Stewart to bribe him from his duty, and shortly explained how he had watched his opportunity to creep up stairs unobserved, and to secrete himself in his daughter’s apartment, together with the result.“Foul shame on the sleeky viper,” cried the Wolfe indignantly, after he had listened to Rory’s abridgement: “But where hath the reptile hidden himself all this while? By my beard, but he shall be punished for this coulpe.” And so saying he seized upon a lamp, and rushing up stairs in a fury, beheld his son stretched on the pavement senseless, with a stream of blood pouring from his temple and cheek, which bore the deep impression of the hooked head of Rory Spears’ gaud-clip.“Hey, ha!” exclaimed the Wolfe, with a changed aspect, produced by the spectacle which his son presented: “by’r Lady, but Andrew hath got it. Fool that he was, he hath already been paid, I wot, for his wicked device. Ha! the saints grant that he may not be past all leechcraft. Would that thou hadst hit less hard, old man. Though he be but the craven cock-chick of my brood, yet would I not choose to have his green grave to walk over.”“So please thee, my Lord, it was dark, and I had no choice where to strike,” said Rory, with much simplicity of manner. “But fear not,” added he, after carelessly stooping down to examine the wound, “trust me, ’tis no deadly blow; moreover, ’tis rare that ill weeds do perish by the gateside. I’se warrant me he’ll come to; his breath is going like a blacksmith’s bellows. But is’t not a marvel, after all, to behold how clean I did put my seal upon his chafts, and it sae dark at the time? I’se warrant he’ll bear the mark o’t till’s dying day. Here, MacCormy, help me down the stair wi’ him. Thou and I will carry his worship’s body wi’ mair ease than thou and thy loons wad hae carried mine, I rauckon. But hear ye, lad; give not the lie again to any true man like me, or that brain-pan of thine may lack clampering.”The Wolfe of Badenoch was relieved by discovering, on examination, that there was good hope of his son’s recovery; and he employed himself and his people in using every means to bring it about. The whole night was spent in this way, but it[392]was only towards morning that Sir Andrew Stewart began to show less equivocal signs of returning life, and even then he still remained in a state of unconsciousness as to what was passing near him. The circumstance of the sleepy potion they had drank accounted for the lady and her damsel having remained undisturbed amid all the confusion that had prevailed. But the Wolfe of Badenoch, having occupied the morning in superintending the preparation of a litter to transport his wounded son to his Castle in Badenoch, when all was ready, became impatient to depart, and desirous to see the lady ere he did so. Rory Spears was accordingly despatched to awake her, and in a short time she and Katherine appeared, with eyes still loaded with the soporiferous drug they had swallowed.“Ha, what!” cried the Wolfe with astonishment, the moment the lady appeared; “by the beard of my grandfather, but I am petrified. Who could have dreamt that it was thou, my beauteous damosel? By’r Lady, but it is strange, that whether thou dost appear in the hauqueton or in the kirtle thou shouldst still be harnessed by importunate love-suit. But,” continued he, courteously taking her hand and kissing it, “it erketh me sore to think that wrong so foul should have been attempted against thee by a son of mine. Thou hadst a claim for something better at our hands, both for thine own sake and for that of Sir Patrick Hepborne, a knight of whom the remembrance shall ever be grateful to me. Trust me, it giveth me pleasure to behold lealty where tyrant Church hath tied no bands. Thou hast been basely deceived by him who undertook for thine honourable escort to Norham, and albeit I have reasons to think that the proud Priest of Moray hath secretly obtained a power of Royal troops to repossess him in his Badenoch lands, yet shall not this knowledge hinder me from fulfilling for thee that service which my traitor son hath so shamefully abused. I shall be myself thy convoy. Let the croaking carrion-crow of Elgin come if he dares; I have hardy heads, I trow, to meet him, who will fight whether I am there or not. Ha! by my grandfather’s beard, an he had not flown from Aberdeen with the wings of the raven, he mought have been e’en now past giving me trouble.”“My noble Earl of Buchan, I do give thee thanks for thy kind courtesy,” replied the lady; “but I may in no wise suffer it to lead thee to make sacrifice so great. Trust me, I fear not for the journey whilst I have this good man Rory Spears as mine escort. Under the guardance of one so prudent, brave, and faithful as he has proved himself to be, I should nothing dread to wander over the world.”[393]“And I wad defend thee, my leddy, frae skaith, were it but frae the tining o’ a single hair o’ thy bonny head, yea, to the last drap o’ bluid in my auld veins,” cried Rory with great enthusiasm, being delighted to observe that his worth was at last fairly appreciated.“Ha! by my troth, but ’tis bravely spoken in both,” cried the Wolfe. “Depardieux, I shall not venture to interfere where there is so great store of confidence on one side and fidelity on the other. But yet thou must take some pairs of my lances with thee, Rory, for thou art but slenderly backed, me thinks.”Even this much both the lady and Master Spears were disposed to refuse; but on learning that the mountain range through which they must pass was at that time more than ordinarily infested with wolves, Rory changed his mind, and consented to take four able lances with him, to be returned when he should consider their services no longer necessary.All being now arranged for the departure of the two parties, the Wolfe of Badenoch became impatient. He courteously assisted the lady to mount her palfrey, and, kissing her hand, bid her a kind adieu. He was about to leap into his own saddle, when he was accosted by Rory Spears.“My Lord Yearl o’ Buchan, seeing that thy son Sir Andrew, i’ the litter yonder, hath not yet gathered his senses anew to tak the charge o’ his ain cunzie, I here deliver up to thee, his father, this purse o’ gowd he did gi’e me, the which my conscience wull at no rate let me keep, seeing that it wad in nowise let me do that the which was covenanted for the yearning o’t.”“Nay, by St. Barnabas, honest Rory, but thou shalt keep the purse and the coin,” cried the Wolfe, delighted with Rory’s honesty; “thou hast rightly earned it by thy good service to thy lady. I will be answerable to my son Andrew for this thy well-won guerdon, so make thyself easy on that score.”“Thanks, most noble Yearl,” cried Rory as he pouched the purse, and mounted his ragged nag to ride after the lady, his countenance shining with glee. “By’r lackins, but this is as good as the plunder of a whole campaign against the Englishers.”[394]

CHAPTER LIV.Sir Andrew’s Deep-laid Plot—An Unexpected Arrival.

Sir Andrew’s Deep-laid Plot—An Unexpected Arrival.

MacCormick proceeded in quest of Spears, and Sir Andrew Stewart continued to pace backwards and forwards upon the green sward outside the rampart wall, pondering how he might best open the negotiation. It was already dark; and, villain as he was, he felt thankful that it was so, for he had ever been accustomed to set so much value on outward reputation, that he was ashamed to lift the veil, even to him whom he was about to make an accomplice in his crimes. Footsteps were at last heard approaching softly, and Rory and MacCormick saluted him.“Master Spears,” said Sir Andrew Stewart, “this is a troublesome task the Earl hath imposed on thee.”“Task!” replied Rory, in a gruff ill-humoured tone; “I carena mokell how dour his tasks be, so he be present himsel for to see me fulfil them; but to cast his trusty servant frae his back—me, wha used to be tied, as I mought say, till his horse’s curpin, and to tak a parcel o’ young loons to the wars wi’ him, is enew to break ane auld crazy heart like mine.”“’Tis indeed a bitter reproach on thee, Rory,” said Sir Andrew, “and but little amended by the service thou art put upon. But what doth hinder thee to return? Surely I may save thee all this long and painful journey. My protection, methinks, may suffice for the lady.”“Na, na,” replied Rory impatiently, being secretly nettled at the cheap rate at which his services were apparently held by the man he despised; “na, na—thy protection, Sir Andrew Stewart, that is to say, the protection o’ thy stout lances yonder, may be a’ weel enew; but I maun not at no rate be kend to slight the wull o’ my lord the Yearl; and to leave the lass, and gang back afore the journey be weel begood—hoot, that wadna do at a’.”“Thou sayest true, Rory,” replied Sir Andrew; “but thou knowest I have ever been a friend to thee, and I would fain do thee a good turn on this occasion. Methinks I have hit on a scheme for saving thee thy pains and travel, preserving thy good character for fidelity to the Earl, and, finally, putting a purse of gold into thy pouch.”[385]“Ay!” replied Rory, in a tone of surprise. “By St. Lowry, an’ thou canst make a’ that good, thou wilt work marvels, Sir Andrew.”“Nay, ’twill need no conjurer,” said Sir Andrew Stewart. “Keep thou but out of the way this night, and see that thou dost keep the old minstrel with thee. Thou canst not sleep in the lady’s chamber, thou knowest, therefore it is but natural to leave the entire charge of her to me, who am to spend the night in MacCraw’s kitchen. And then—d’ye mark me—if the lady should chance to disappear during the night, no one knowing how, the blame must of needscost fall on me alone. Thou mayest then yede thee back with thy daughter to the Countess to-morrow to tell the tale; nay, peraunter, I may go with thee to make all matters smooth, by the confession of my careless watch; and so thou shalt hie thee after the Earl, and may yet join his standard in the field. Dost thou comprehend me now, friend Rory?”Rory stood silently pondering over the tempting proposal. Sir Andrew Stewart drew forth the purse of gold, and the broad pieces chinked against each other as he dangled it in his hand. Their music was most seducing.“Give me the purse,” said Rory at length.“’Tis thine,” cried the overjoyed Sir Andrew Stewart; “I know thee to be faithful, and I fear me not but that thou wilt earn it.”“I will do my best to deserve it,” replied Rory.“Quick, then, to thy duty,” said Sir Andrew Stewart. “Be it thine to see that no one may approach the tower who might disturb our plans.”“The safety of my daughter Kate must be secured to me,” said Rory.“I am answerable for it,” replied Sir Andrew Stewart. “If I can so arrange it, she shall be committed to thine own care; but if I should be defeated in this matter, she shall sleep in the highest chamber, where she may be out of the way. But, happen what will, her safety shall be mine especial care.”The conference being thus ended, Sir Andrew Stewart returned to partake of the meal which MacCraw had by this time prepared. A manifest change had taken place in his manner. His conversation was gay and sprightly, and he was so entertaining that the lady sat listening to him for some time after supper. At length the fatigue she had undergone began to overcome her, and she signified her wish to retire to rest. Katherine Spears, who had been out and in more than once during the[386]meal, now lifted a lamp to light her mistress upstairs to the principal apartment in the tower, which was destined to receive her.“Katherine,” said Sir Andrew Stewart, carelessly, after having paid his parting evening compliments, “when thou hast done with thine attendance on thy lady, MacCraw will show thee the way to where thy father is lodged, where a bed hath been prepared for thee also.”“Nay, Sir Knight,” replied Katherine, with uncommon energy, “I will at no rate quit the tower, though I should sit up all night by this fire.”“That as thou mayest list, my maiden,” said Sir Andrew Stewart, with the same tone he had already spoken in; “I did but wish to give thee the best harbour the place might yield. But now I think on’t, the high chamber may do well enow for thee after all. Here—drink thy lady’s health in the remnant of her wine-cup, ere thou goest.”Katherine did so, and then tripped up stairs before her mistress. She no sooner found herself fairly within the door of the lady’s apartment, than she shut it behind her, and began to look eagerly for the bolt, and she exhibited no small dismay when she saw that it had been recently removed. Trembling with agitation, she then conducted the lady with a hurried step towards a pallet-bed, which had been prepared for her in one corner of the place, and seating her on the blankets—“Oh, my lady, my lady,” whispered she, half breathless with alarm, “I fear that some foul treachery may be designed against thee. Whilst thou didst sit at thy meal I didst step me up hither to see thy couch prepared, and as I returned through the lower passage, I overheard certain voices in the little vault to the right—‘When is it to be done?’ said one. ‘It must not be until late in the night,’ replied another, ‘for we must be sure that she sleeps.’ ‘Ay, and her Abigail alswa,’ said the first man. ‘Nay, I trust that she will be without the tower, for she would spoil all,’ said the other. Just then as I was listening, the outer door of the tower was slowly opened, and my father’s head slowly appeared. He drew back when he saw me. I ran out to him. ‘Help, help, father,’ said I to him in a whisper, ‘or the lady will surely be the victim of treachery.’ ”“And thy father,” said the lady, stretching eagerly towards her damsel—“what did thy father say?”“He laughed at me, lady,” replied Katherine, hesitating—“he laughed at my fears.”“But what were his words?—give me his very words, I entreat thee,” anxiously demanded the lady.[387]“His words, lady,” replied Katherine—“his words were but those of a bold man, who scorneth the fears of a weak woman. Trust me, he must be faithful, lady.”“Ay, Katherine, but his words—what were his very words?” asked the lady, with the same eagerness of manner.“Nay, indeed, they were naught, lady,” replied Katherine, “but thou shalt have them as they did drop from his very mouth. ‘Tush! foolish quean,’ said he in a tone of displeasure at what he did suppose to be my silly apprehension; ‘where sould there be treachery, thinkest thou? But an there sould, tell thy lady that Rory Spears is ane auld fusionless doited dolt-head, as unfit for stoure and strife as for war-stratagem. What did cause his being left behind his lord the Yearl, but superannuation? The silly coof, Sir Andrew Stewart, guse though he be, is mair to be lippened till than Rory Spears. But get thee in, lass, and tend on thy mistress;’ and so saying he opened the door of the tower, and shuffled me by the shoulder into the kitchen where thou didst sit at supper. In vain did I try to catch thine eye after I entered. But oh, sweet lady, believe not that my father can be traitor to thee.”“His words have spoken him to be anything rather than my protector,” replied the lady, pale with alarm at what her maid had told her. “But,” added she, with a forced smile, “thou hast redeemed his sin by nobly resolving to share my danger, when thou hadst the opportunity of escaping from it. As it is, I must prepare me for the worst. I have still a dagger, and weak as is mine arm, it shall do bloody work ere I do yield to such villainy; yet, after all, thou mayest have mistaken the words thou didst hear. Let us trust to God and the Holy Virgin, then, and, above all things, let us put up special prayers for protection from Her, who is purity itself.”The lady and her maiden knelt down together, and joined in earnest devotion, that was only damped at times as fancy led them to imagine they heard a soft tread on the stair, or a suppressed breathing at the door of the chamber. When their orisons were ended, they sat silent for some time. All was already quiet below, and an unaccountable and perfectly uncontrollable sleep, that seemed to bid defiance even to their apprehensions, was stealing insidiously upon them. Just at this moment Katherine Spears uttered a short and faint scream, and had nearly swooned away. The lady started up in a frenzy of alarm, and drew her dagger, when, much to her astonishment as well as to her relief, she perceived the large wolf-hound that had followed Rory Spears, which, having unceremoniously put[388]his cold nose into Katherine’s well-known hand, had produced the damsel’s sudden panic. The lady and her attendant viewed the unexpected appearance of this mute defender as an especial interposition procured for them by their prayers. But the scream, though scarcely audible, might have been heard below, and they listened in quaking dread. All continued quiet underneath them. But, as they still listened, they distinctly heard a heavy footstep cautiously planted, but, to their utter amazement, it came from above downwards. The lady grasped her dagger more firmly, and wound up her determination to use it, if need should demand it. The steps still came stealing down the turret stair that communicated with the uppermost apartment, and at last the bulky form of Rory Spears, gaud-clip and all, appeared before them.“Heaven be praised!” murmured Katherine, as she sprang to meet her father. “By what miracle of Heaven’s mercy art thou here?”The lady stood aloof with her dagger clenched, still doubtful of his errand.“And what for needs ye ask?” said Rory to his daughter, with a certain archness of expression quite his own. “Hath not my Lord the Yearl o’ Moray made a tirewoman o’ me? and was Rory Spears ever kend to be backward at his Lord’s bidding? Verily, it behoveth me not to desert mine occupation. So I am here to do my new mistress’s wark, I promise thee.”“May Heaven grant that thou mayest not have something more cruel to do to-night than attend on dames,” said Katherine Spears; “yet verily thy coming is most providential, for assuredly we are sore beset with treachery.”“Ay, ay, I ken a’ that,” replied Rory; “and troth it was the very thoughts o’ a bicker that pat the pet out o’ me, and wiled me hither. But stap ye baith yere ways up the stair there, and liggen ye down quietly, and leave me here to deal with whomsoever may come.”“He is true to thee, after all, lady,” said Katherine with exultation.“I rejoice to see that he is faithful,” replied the lady; “may St. Andrew reward him! Already are my fears banished, but irresistible sleep oppresses me. I feel as if I had swallowed some potent drug. I cannot keep my head up.”“Nay, Katherine nods too,” said Rory; “by the mass, some sleepy potion must have been mingled with your wine. Let me help ye both upstairs; ay, there ye may rest in quiet,” said he, as he set down the lamp and was preparing to leave[389]them, “and I’se leave Oscar with ye as a guard, for the loon had nae business here, and wi’ me he might spoil sport;” and saying so, he tied up the dog beside them, and ere he had done which both were in a profound sleep.Having returned to the apartment below, Rory threw himself down on the bed, and huddled himself up in the blankets, with his inseparable companion the gaud-clip by his side, and there he lay patiently to watch the event, until, the fire falling low on the hearth, the darkness and his own drowsiness overcame his vigilance, and he fell into deep oblivion.He had not lain long in this state when the door slowly opened, and the head of Sir Andrew Stewart appeared. Over it there was a lamp, which he held up in his hand, so as to throw a glimmer of light into the farther corner of the place. He paused for a moment, and seeing the form of a figure within the blankets, and observing that all was quiet, he withdrew the lamp.“She sleeps,” whispered he to his esquire and the two men who were with him; “the potion hath worked as it ought. Approach the bed, yet be cautious; rude carelessness might break her slumbers. Let her not be awakened while she is within earshot of those within the place; ye may be less scrupulous anon. Approach and lift her up in the blanket; her weight can be but as that of an infant in such hands.”“No sike infant, I wot,” muttered one of the men to the other, as they strained to lift up the blanket with the enormous carcase of Rory Spears in it.“By the mass, but she is a load for a wain,” said the other.“Be silent, ye profane clowns,” said Sir Andrew.“St. Roque, how she doth snore!” said the first, in a lower voice.“Silence, I say, villains,” said Sir Andrew, “silence, and bear her this way.”“Hold, hold, Murdoch, the blanket is slipping,” said one; “keep up your end, or we are done with her.”“Hout, she’s gone,” cried Murdoch, as his end of the blanket slipped altogether, and Rory was rolled on the floor.Though Rory had slept, his mind had been so fully possessed with the action he had prepared himself to expect, that he had dreamt of nothing else. He was no sooner rudely awakened by the shock of his fall than his mind became full of his duty.“Ha, villains,” cried he, starting to his legs in a moment, and roaring to the full extent of his rough voice, as he flourished his gaud-clip around him in the dark like a flail; “ha, caitiffs,[390]have I caught ye? What, would ye dare to lay impure hands on the tender form of a lady of sike high degree? By St. Lowry, but I’ll settle ye, knaves.”All was now confusion. The knight and his instruments sought for the door with a haste that almost defeated their object. Precedence was by no means attended to; and Sir Andrew Stewart, being jostled aside, received a chance blow from Rory’s gaud-clip that prostrated him senseless on the floor. The squire and the two men rushed down stairs, with Rory hard at their heels, and were making towards the door of the tower when it suddenly opened, and a party of horsemen appeared without.“Halt!” cried a voice like thunder, that instantly arrested the flight of the fugitives, and sent them, crouching like chidden curs, into the kitchen. The light that was there showed the terror and dismay of their countenance, and it also explained the cause, for he who entered was the Wolfe of Badenoch.“What rabble and uproar is this in the lone peel-tower of Duncriddel?” demanded he. “Ha, Alister MacCraw, what guests be these thou hast got? Ha, Erick MacCormick and my son Andrew’s people! What a murrain hath brought thee here, Master Esquire? Ha—speak. Where is the worthy knight thy master?”“My Lord—my master, Sir Andrew—my Lord—” replied MacCormick, hesitating from very fear.“Ha! and Rory Spears too,” continued the Wolfe; “what dost thou make here, old ottercap? Speak, and expound the cause of this uproar, if thou canst.”“I will, my Lord,” said Rory, “and that in sike short speech as I well ken thou lovest to have a tale dished up to thee. Sir Andrew Stewart, thy son, did covenant wi’ my leddy the Countess o’ Moray, thy sister, to convoy ane Englisher leddy safe frae Tarnawa to Norham, and sure enew he brought her here, being sae muckle o’ the gate; but having no fear o’ God or the Saunts afore his eyne, he did basely try to betray her, just the noo, afore I cam doon the stairs there.”“Ha, hypocritical villain! cried the Wolfe. “By Saint Barnabas, but I have long had a thought that his affected purity was but a cloak for his incontinence.”“’Tis all a fabrication,” cried MacCormick, who had now recovered his presence of mind so far as to endeavour to defend his master, though at the expense of truth; “’tis fearful to hear sike wicked falsehoods against thy son Sir Andrew Stewart.”“My Lord Yearl,” cried Rory, taking Sir Andrew’s purse of[391]gold from his pouch, “an thou believest that I do lie, here is a soothfast witness to what I have uttered.”“Ha! my son Andrew’s purse, with his cipher on it,” cried the Wolfe, casting a hasty glance at it. “How camest thou by this, Master Spears?”Rory quickly told the Wolfe of the attempt made by Sir Andrew Stewart to bribe him from his duty, and shortly explained how he had watched his opportunity to creep up stairs unobserved, and to secrete himself in his daughter’s apartment, together with the result.“Foul shame on the sleeky viper,” cried the Wolfe indignantly, after he had listened to Rory’s abridgement: “But where hath the reptile hidden himself all this while? By my beard, but he shall be punished for this coulpe.” And so saying he seized upon a lamp, and rushing up stairs in a fury, beheld his son stretched on the pavement senseless, with a stream of blood pouring from his temple and cheek, which bore the deep impression of the hooked head of Rory Spears’ gaud-clip.“Hey, ha!” exclaimed the Wolfe, with a changed aspect, produced by the spectacle which his son presented: “by’r Lady, but Andrew hath got it. Fool that he was, he hath already been paid, I wot, for his wicked device. Ha! the saints grant that he may not be past all leechcraft. Would that thou hadst hit less hard, old man. Though he be but the craven cock-chick of my brood, yet would I not choose to have his green grave to walk over.”“So please thee, my Lord, it was dark, and I had no choice where to strike,” said Rory, with much simplicity of manner. “But fear not,” added he, after carelessly stooping down to examine the wound, “trust me, ’tis no deadly blow; moreover, ’tis rare that ill weeds do perish by the gateside. I’se warrant me he’ll come to; his breath is going like a blacksmith’s bellows. But is’t not a marvel, after all, to behold how clean I did put my seal upon his chafts, and it sae dark at the time? I’se warrant he’ll bear the mark o’t till’s dying day. Here, MacCormy, help me down the stair wi’ him. Thou and I will carry his worship’s body wi’ mair ease than thou and thy loons wad hae carried mine, I rauckon. But hear ye, lad; give not the lie again to any true man like me, or that brain-pan of thine may lack clampering.”The Wolfe of Badenoch was relieved by discovering, on examination, that there was good hope of his son’s recovery; and he employed himself and his people in using every means to bring it about. The whole night was spent in this way, but it[392]was only towards morning that Sir Andrew Stewart began to show less equivocal signs of returning life, and even then he still remained in a state of unconsciousness as to what was passing near him. The circumstance of the sleepy potion they had drank accounted for the lady and her damsel having remained undisturbed amid all the confusion that had prevailed. But the Wolfe of Badenoch, having occupied the morning in superintending the preparation of a litter to transport his wounded son to his Castle in Badenoch, when all was ready, became impatient to depart, and desirous to see the lady ere he did so. Rory Spears was accordingly despatched to awake her, and in a short time she and Katherine appeared, with eyes still loaded with the soporiferous drug they had swallowed.“Ha, what!” cried the Wolfe with astonishment, the moment the lady appeared; “by the beard of my grandfather, but I am petrified. Who could have dreamt that it was thou, my beauteous damosel? By’r Lady, but it is strange, that whether thou dost appear in the hauqueton or in the kirtle thou shouldst still be harnessed by importunate love-suit. But,” continued he, courteously taking her hand and kissing it, “it erketh me sore to think that wrong so foul should have been attempted against thee by a son of mine. Thou hadst a claim for something better at our hands, both for thine own sake and for that of Sir Patrick Hepborne, a knight of whom the remembrance shall ever be grateful to me. Trust me, it giveth me pleasure to behold lealty where tyrant Church hath tied no bands. Thou hast been basely deceived by him who undertook for thine honourable escort to Norham, and albeit I have reasons to think that the proud Priest of Moray hath secretly obtained a power of Royal troops to repossess him in his Badenoch lands, yet shall not this knowledge hinder me from fulfilling for thee that service which my traitor son hath so shamefully abused. I shall be myself thy convoy. Let the croaking carrion-crow of Elgin come if he dares; I have hardy heads, I trow, to meet him, who will fight whether I am there or not. Ha! by my grandfather’s beard, an he had not flown from Aberdeen with the wings of the raven, he mought have been e’en now past giving me trouble.”“My noble Earl of Buchan, I do give thee thanks for thy kind courtesy,” replied the lady; “but I may in no wise suffer it to lead thee to make sacrifice so great. Trust me, I fear not for the journey whilst I have this good man Rory Spears as mine escort. Under the guardance of one so prudent, brave, and faithful as he has proved himself to be, I should nothing dread to wander over the world.”[393]“And I wad defend thee, my leddy, frae skaith, were it but frae the tining o’ a single hair o’ thy bonny head, yea, to the last drap o’ bluid in my auld veins,” cried Rory with great enthusiasm, being delighted to observe that his worth was at last fairly appreciated.“Ha! by my troth, but ’tis bravely spoken in both,” cried the Wolfe. “Depardieux, I shall not venture to interfere where there is so great store of confidence on one side and fidelity on the other. But yet thou must take some pairs of my lances with thee, Rory, for thou art but slenderly backed, me thinks.”Even this much both the lady and Master Spears were disposed to refuse; but on learning that the mountain range through which they must pass was at that time more than ordinarily infested with wolves, Rory changed his mind, and consented to take four able lances with him, to be returned when he should consider their services no longer necessary.All being now arranged for the departure of the two parties, the Wolfe of Badenoch became impatient. He courteously assisted the lady to mount her palfrey, and, kissing her hand, bid her a kind adieu. He was about to leap into his own saddle, when he was accosted by Rory Spears.“My Lord Yearl o’ Buchan, seeing that thy son Sir Andrew, i’ the litter yonder, hath not yet gathered his senses anew to tak the charge o’ his ain cunzie, I here deliver up to thee, his father, this purse o’ gowd he did gi’e me, the which my conscience wull at no rate let me keep, seeing that it wad in nowise let me do that the which was covenanted for the yearning o’t.”“Nay, by St. Barnabas, honest Rory, but thou shalt keep the purse and the coin,” cried the Wolfe, delighted with Rory’s honesty; “thou hast rightly earned it by thy good service to thy lady. I will be answerable to my son Andrew for this thy well-won guerdon, so make thyself easy on that score.”“Thanks, most noble Yearl,” cried Rory as he pouched the purse, and mounted his ragged nag to ride after the lady, his countenance shining with glee. “By’r lackins, but this is as good as the plunder of a whole campaign against the Englishers.”[394]

“Master Spears,” said Sir Andrew Stewart, “this is a troublesome task the Earl hath imposed on thee.”

“Task!” replied Rory, in a gruff ill-humoured tone; “I carena mokell how dour his tasks be, so he be present himsel for to see me fulfil them; but to cast his trusty servant frae his back—me, wha used to be tied, as I mought say, till his horse’s curpin, and to tak a parcel o’ young loons to the wars wi’ him, is enew to break ane auld crazy heart like mine.”

“’Tis indeed a bitter reproach on thee, Rory,” said Sir Andrew, “and but little amended by the service thou art put upon. But what doth hinder thee to return? Surely I may save thee all this long and painful journey. My protection, methinks, may suffice for the lady.”

“Na, na,” replied Rory impatiently, being secretly nettled at the cheap rate at which his services were apparently held by the man he despised; “na, na—thy protection, Sir Andrew Stewart, that is to say, the protection o’ thy stout lances yonder, may be a’ weel enew; but I maun not at no rate be kend to slight the wull o’ my lord the Yearl; and to leave the lass, and gang back afore the journey be weel begood—hoot, that wadna do at a’.”

“Thou sayest true, Rory,” replied Sir Andrew; “but thou knowest I have ever been a friend to thee, and I would fain do thee a good turn on this occasion. Methinks I have hit on a scheme for saving thee thy pains and travel, preserving thy good character for fidelity to the Earl, and, finally, putting a purse of gold into thy pouch.”[385]

“Ay!” replied Rory, in a tone of surprise. “By St. Lowry, an’ thou canst make a’ that good, thou wilt work marvels, Sir Andrew.”

“Nay, ’twill need no conjurer,” said Sir Andrew Stewart. “Keep thou but out of the way this night, and see that thou dost keep the old minstrel with thee. Thou canst not sleep in the lady’s chamber, thou knowest, therefore it is but natural to leave the entire charge of her to me, who am to spend the night in MacCraw’s kitchen. And then—d’ye mark me—if the lady should chance to disappear during the night, no one knowing how, the blame must of needscost fall on me alone. Thou mayest then yede thee back with thy daughter to the Countess to-morrow to tell the tale; nay, peraunter, I may go with thee to make all matters smooth, by the confession of my careless watch; and so thou shalt hie thee after the Earl, and may yet join his standard in the field. Dost thou comprehend me now, friend Rory?”

Rory stood silently pondering over the tempting proposal. Sir Andrew Stewart drew forth the purse of gold, and the broad pieces chinked against each other as he dangled it in his hand. Their music was most seducing.

“Give me the purse,” said Rory at length.

“’Tis thine,” cried the overjoyed Sir Andrew Stewart; “I know thee to be faithful, and I fear me not but that thou wilt earn it.”

“I will do my best to deserve it,” replied Rory.

“Quick, then, to thy duty,” said Sir Andrew Stewart. “Be it thine to see that no one may approach the tower who might disturb our plans.”

“The safety of my daughter Kate must be secured to me,” said Rory.

“I am answerable for it,” replied Sir Andrew Stewart. “If I can so arrange it, she shall be committed to thine own care; but if I should be defeated in this matter, she shall sleep in the highest chamber, where she may be out of the way. But, happen what will, her safety shall be mine especial care.”

The conference being thus ended, Sir Andrew Stewart returned to partake of the meal which MacCraw had by this time prepared. A manifest change had taken place in his manner. His conversation was gay and sprightly, and he was so entertaining that the lady sat listening to him for some time after supper. At length the fatigue she had undergone began to overcome her, and she signified her wish to retire to rest. Katherine Spears, who had been out and in more than once during the[386]meal, now lifted a lamp to light her mistress upstairs to the principal apartment in the tower, which was destined to receive her.

“Katherine,” said Sir Andrew Stewart, carelessly, after having paid his parting evening compliments, “when thou hast done with thine attendance on thy lady, MacCraw will show thee the way to where thy father is lodged, where a bed hath been prepared for thee also.”

“Nay, Sir Knight,” replied Katherine, with uncommon energy, “I will at no rate quit the tower, though I should sit up all night by this fire.”

“That as thou mayest list, my maiden,” said Sir Andrew Stewart, with the same tone he had already spoken in; “I did but wish to give thee the best harbour the place might yield. But now I think on’t, the high chamber may do well enow for thee after all. Here—drink thy lady’s health in the remnant of her wine-cup, ere thou goest.”

Katherine did so, and then tripped up stairs before her mistress. She no sooner found herself fairly within the door of the lady’s apartment, than she shut it behind her, and began to look eagerly for the bolt, and she exhibited no small dismay when she saw that it had been recently removed. Trembling with agitation, she then conducted the lady with a hurried step towards a pallet-bed, which had been prepared for her in one corner of the place, and seating her on the blankets—

“Oh, my lady, my lady,” whispered she, half breathless with alarm, “I fear that some foul treachery may be designed against thee. Whilst thou didst sit at thy meal I didst step me up hither to see thy couch prepared, and as I returned through the lower passage, I overheard certain voices in the little vault to the right—‘When is it to be done?’ said one. ‘It must not be until late in the night,’ replied another, ‘for we must be sure that she sleeps.’ ‘Ay, and her Abigail alswa,’ said the first man. ‘Nay, I trust that she will be without the tower, for she would spoil all,’ said the other. Just then as I was listening, the outer door of the tower was slowly opened, and my father’s head slowly appeared. He drew back when he saw me. I ran out to him. ‘Help, help, father,’ said I to him in a whisper, ‘or the lady will surely be the victim of treachery.’ ”

“And thy father,” said the lady, stretching eagerly towards her damsel—“what did thy father say?”

“He laughed at me, lady,” replied Katherine, hesitating—“he laughed at my fears.”

“But what were his words?—give me his very words, I entreat thee,” anxiously demanded the lady.[387]

“His words, lady,” replied Katherine—“his words were but those of a bold man, who scorneth the fears of a weak woman. Trust me, he must be faithful, lady.”

“Ay, Katherine, but his words—what were his very words?” asked the lady, with the same eagerness of manner.

“Nay, indeed, they were naught, lady,” replied Katherine, “but thou shalt have them as they did drop from his very mouth. ‘Tush! foolish quean,’ said he in a tone of displeasure at what he did suppose to be my silly apprehension; ‘where sould there be treachery, thinkest thou? But an there sould, tell thy lady that Rory Spears is ane auld fusionless doited dolt-head, as unfit for stoure and strife as for war-stratagem. What did cause his being left behind his lord the Yearl, but superannuation? The silly coof, Sir Andrew Stewart, guse though he be, is mair to be lippened till than Rory Spears. But get thee in, lass, and tend on thy mistress;’ and so saying he opened the door of the tower, and shuffled me by the shoulder into the kitchen where thou didst sit at supper. In vain did I try to catch thine eye after I entered. But oh, sweet lady, believe not that my father can be traitor to thee.”

“His words have spoken him to be anything rather than my protector,” replied the lady, pale with alarm at what her maid had told her. “But,” added she, with a forced smile, “thou hast redeemed his sin by nobly resolving to share my danger, when thou hadst the opportunity of escaping from it. As it is, I must prepare me for the worst. I have still a dagger, and weak as is mine arm, it shall do bloody work ere I do yield to such villainy; yet, after all, thou mayest have mistaken the words thou didst hear. Let us trust to God and the Holy Virgin, then, and, above all things, let us put up special prayers for protection from Her, who is purity itself.”

The lady and her maiden knelt down together, and joined in earnest devotion, that was only damped at times as fancy led them to imagine they heard a soft tread on the stair, or a suppressed breathing at the door of the chamber. When their orisons were ended, they sat silent for some time. All was already quiet below, and an unaccountable and perfectly uncontrollable sleep, that seemed to bid defiance even to their apprehensions, was stealing insidiously upon them. Just at this moment Katherine Spears uttered a short and faint scream, and had nearly swooned away. The lady started up in a frenzy of alarm, and drew her dagger, when, much to her astonishment as well as to her relief, she perceived the large wolf-hound that had followed Rory Spears, which, having unceremoniously put[388]his cold nose into Katherine’s well-known hand, had produced the damsel’s sudden panic. The lady and her attendant viewed the unexpected appearance of this mute defender as an especial interposition procured for them by their prayers. But the scream, though scarcely audible, might have been heard below, and they listened in quaking dread. All continued quiet underneath them. But, as they still listened, they distinctly heard a heavy footstep cautiously planted, but, to their utter amazement, it came from above downwards. The lady grasped her dagger more firmly, and wound up her determination to use it, if need should demand it. The steps still came stealing down the turret stair that communicated with the uppermost apartment, and at last the bulky form of Rory Spears, gaud-clip and all, appeared before them.

“Heaven be praised!” murmured Katherine, as she sprang to meet her father. “By what miracle of Heaven’s mercy art thou here?”

The lady stood aloof with her dagger clenched, still doubtful of his errand.

“And what for needs ye ask?” said Rory to his daughter, with a certain archness of expression quite his own. “Hath not my Lord the Yearl o’ Moray made a tirewoman o’ me? and was Rory Spears ever kend to be backward at his Lord’s bidding? Verily, it behoveth me not to desert mine occupation. So I am here to do my new mistress’s wark, I promise thee.”

“May Heaven grant that thou mayest not have something more cruel to do to-night than attend on dames,” said Katherine Spears; “yet verily thy coming is most providential, for assuredly we are sore beset with treachery.”

“Ay, ay, I ken a’ that,” replied Rory; “and troth it was the very thoughts o’ a bicker that pat the pet out o’ me, and wiled me hither. But stap ye baith yere ways up the stair there, and liggen ye down quietly, and leave me here to deal with whomsoever may come.”

“He is true to thee, after all, lady,” said Katherine with exultation.

“I rejoice to see that he is faithful,” replied the lady; “may St. Andrew reward him! Already are my fears banished, but irresistible sleep oppresses me. I feel as if I had swallowed some potent drug. I cannot keep my head up.”

“Nay, Katherine nods too,” said Rory; “by the mass, some sleepy potion must have been mingled with your wine. Let me help ye both upstairs; ay, there ye may rest in quiet,” said he, as he set down the lamp and was preparing to leave[389]them, “and I’se leave Oscar with ye as a guard, for the loon had nae business here, and wi’ me he might spoil sport;” and saying so, he tied up the dog beside them, and ere he had done which both were in a profound sleep.

Having returned to the apartment below, Rory threw himself down on the bed, and huddled himself up in the blankets, with his inseparable companion the gaud-clip by his side, and there he lay patiently to watch the event, until, the fire falling low on the hearth, the darkness and his own drowsiness overcame his vigilance, and he fell into deep oblivion.

He had not lain long in this state when the door slowly opened, and the head of Sir Andrew Stewart appeared. Over it there was a lamp, which he held up in his hand, so as to throw a glimmer of light into the farther corner of the place. He paused for a moment, and seeing the form of a figure within the blankets, and observing that all was quiet, he withdrew the lamp.

“She sleeps,” whispered he to his esquire and the two men who were with him; “the potion hath worked as it ought. Approach the bed, yet be cautious; rude carelessness might break her slumbers. Let her not be awakened while she is within earshot of those within the place; ye may be less scrupulous anon. Approach and lift her up in the blanket; her weight can be but as that of an infant in such hands.”

“No sike infant, I wot,” muttered one of the men to the other, as they strained to lift up the blanket with the enormous carcase of Rory Spears in it.

“By the mass, but she is a load for a wain,” said the other.

“Be silent, ye profane clowns,” said Sir Andrew.

“St. Roque, how she doth snore!” said the first, in a lower voice.

“Silence, I say, villains,” said Sir Andrew, “silence, and bear her this way.”

“Hold, hold, Murdoch, the blanket is slipping,” said one; “keep up your end, or we are done with her.”

“Hout, she’s gone,” cried Murdoch, as his end of the blanket slipped altogether, and Rory was rolled on the floor.

Though Rory had slept, his mind had been so fully possessed with the action he had prepared himself to expect, that he had dreamt of nothing else. He was no sooner rudely awakened by the shock of his fall than his mind became full of his duty.

“Ha, villains,” cried he, starting to his legs in a moment, and roaring to the full extent of his rough voice, as he flourished his gaud-clip around him in the dark like a flail; “ha, caitiffs,[390]have I caught ye? What, would ye dare to lay impure hands on the tender form of a lady of sike high degree? By St. Lowry, but I’ll settle ye, knaves.”

All was now confusion. The knight and his instruments sought for the door with a haste that almost defeated their object. Precedence was by no means attended to; and Sir Andrew Stewart, being jostled aside, received a chance blow from Rory’s gaud-clip that prostrated him senseless on the floor. The squire and the two men rushed down stairs, with Rory hard at their heels, and were making towards the door of the tower when it suddenly opened, and a party of horsemen appeared without.

“Halt!” cried a voice like thunder, that instantly arrested the flight of the fugitives, and sent them, crouching like chidden curs, into the kitchen. The light that was there showed the terror and dismay of their countenance, and it also explained the cause, for he who entered was the Wolfe of Badenoch.

“What rabble and uproar is this in the lone peel-tower of Duncriddel?” demanded he. “Ha, Alister MacCraw, what guests be these thou hast got? Ha, Erick MacCormick and my son Andrew’s people! What a murrain hath brought thee here, Master Esquire? Ha—speak. Where is the worthy knight thy master?”

“My Lord—my master, Sir Andrew—my Lord—” replied MacCormick, hesitating from very fear.

“Ha! and Rory Spears too,” continued the Wolfe; “what dost thou make here, old ottercap? Speak, and expound the cause of this uproar, if thou canst.”

“I will, my Lord,” said Rory, “and that in sike short speech as I well ken thou lovest to have a tale dished up to thee. Sir Andrew Stewart, thy son, did covenant wi’ my leddy the Countess o’ Moray, thy sister, to convoy ane Englisher leddy safe frae Tarnawa to Norham, and sure enew he brought her here, being sae muckle o’ the gate; but having no fear o’ God or the Saunts afore his eyne, he did basely try to betray her, just the noo, afore I cam doon the stairs there.”

“Ha, hypocritical villain! cried the Wolfe. “By Saint Barnabas, but I have long had a thought that his affected purity was but a cloak for his incontinence.”

“’Tis all a fabrication,” cried MacCormick, who had now recovered his presence of mind so far as to endeavour to defend his master, though at the expense of truth; “’tis fearful to hear sike wicked falsehoods against thy son Sir Andrew Stewart.”

“My Lord Yearl,” cried Rory, taking Sir Andrew’s purse of[391]gold from his pouch, “an thou believest that I do lie, here is a soothfast witness to what I have uttered.”

“Ha! my son Andrew’s purse, with his cipher on it,” cried the Wolfe, casting a hasty glance at it. “How camest thou by this, Master Spears?”

Rory quickly told the Wolfe of the attempt made by Sir Andrew Stewart to bribe him from his duty, and shortly explained how he had watched his opportunity to creep up stairs unobserved, and to secrete himself in his daughter’s apartment, together with the result.

“Foul shame on the sleeky viper,” cried the Wolfe indignantly, after he had listened to Rory’s abridgement: “But where hath the reptile hidden himself all this while? By my beard, but he shall be punished for this coulpe.” And so saying he seized upon a lamp, and rushing up stairs in a fury, beheld his son stretched on the pavement senseless, with a stream of blood pouring from his temple and cheek, which bore the deep impression of the hooked head of Rory Spears’ gaud-clip.

“Hey, ha!” exclaimed the Wolfe, with a changed aspect, produced by the spectacle which his son presented: “by’r Lady, but Andrew hath got it. Fool that he was, he hath already been paid, I wot, for his wicked device. Ha! the saints grant that he may not be past all leechcraft. Would that thou hadst hit less hard, old man. Though he be but the craven cock-chick of my brood, yet would I not choose to have his green grave to walk over.”

“So please thee, my Lord, it was dark, and I had no choice where to strike,” said Rory, with much simplicity of manner. “But fear not,” added he, after carelessly stooping down to examine the wound, “trust me, ’tis no deadly blow; moreover, ’tis rare that ill weeds do perish by the gateside. I’se warrant me he’ll come to; his breath is going like a blacksmith’s bellows. But is’t not a marvel, after all, to behold how clean I did put my seal upon his chafts, and it sae dark at the time? I’se warrant he’ll bear the mark o’t till’s dying day. Here, MacCormy, help me down the stair wi’ him. Thou and I will carry his worship’s body wi’ mair ease than thou and thy loons wad hae carried mine, I rauckon. But hear ye, lad; give not the lie again to any true man like me, or that brain-pan of thine may lack clampering.”

The Wolfe of Badenoch was relieved by discovering, on examination, that there was good hope of his son’s recovery; and he employed himself and his people in using every means to bring it about. The whole night was spent in this way, but it[392]was only towards morning that Sir Andrew Stewart began to show less equivocal signs of returning life, and even then he still remained in a state of unconsciousness as to what was passing near him. The circumstance of the sleepy potion they had drank accounted for the lady and her damsel having remained undisturbed amid all the confusion that had prevailed. But the Wolfe of Badenoch, having occupied the morning in superintending the preparation of a litter to transport his wounded son to his Castle in Badenoch, when all was ready, became impatient to depart, and desirous to see the lady ere he did so. Rory Spears was accordingly despatched to awake her, and in a short time she and Katherine appeared, with eyes still loaded with the soporiferous drug they had swallowed.

“Ha, what!” cried the Wolfe with astonishment, the moment the lady appeared; “by the beard of my grandfather, but I am petrified. Who could have dreamt that it was thou, my beauteous damosel? By’r Lady, but it is strange, that whether thou dost appear in the hauqueton or in the kirtle thou shouldst still be harnessed by importunate love-suit. But,” continued he, courteously taking her hand and kissing it, “it erketh me sore to think that wrong so foul should have been attempted against thee by a son of mine. Thou hadst a claim for something better at our hands, both for thine own sake and for that of Sir Patrick Hepborne, a knight of whom the remembrance shall ever be grateful to me. Trust me, it giveth me pleasure to behold lealty where tyrant Church hath tied no bands. Thou hast been basely deceived by him who undertook for thine honourable escort to Norham, and albeit I have reasons to think that the proud Priest of Moray hath secretly obtained a power of Royal troops to repossess him in his Badenoch lands, yet shall not this knowledge hinder me from fulfilling for thee that service which my traitor son hath so shamefully abused. I shall be myself thy convoy. Let the croaking carrion-crow of Elgin come if he dares; I have hardy heads, I trow, to meet him, who will fight whether I am there or not. Ha! by my grandfather’s beard, an he had not flown from Aberdeen with the wings of the raven, he mought have been e’en now past giving me trouble.”

“My noble Earl of Buchan, I do give thee thanks for thy kind courtesy,” replied the lady; “but I may in no wise suffer it to lead thee to make sacrifice so great. Trust me, I fear not for the journey whilst I have this good man Rory Spears as mine escort. Under the guardance of one so prudent, brave, and faithful as he has proved himself to be, I should nothing dread to wander over the world.”[393]

“And I wad defend thee, my leddy, frae skaith, were it but frae the tining o’ a single hair o’ thy bonny head, yea, to the last drap o’ bluid in my auld veins,” cried Rory with great enthusiasm, being delighted to observe that his worth was at last fairly appreciated.

“Ha! by my troth, but ’tis bravely spoken in both,” cried the Wolfe. “Depardieux, I shall not venture to interfere where there is so great store of confidence on one side and fidelity on the other. But yet thou must take some pairs of my lances with thee, Rory, for thou art but slenderly backed, me thinks.”

Even this much both the lady and Master Spears were disposed to refuse; but on learning that the mountain range through which they must pass was at that time more than ordinarily infested with wolves, Rory changed his mind, and consented to take four able lances with him, to be returned when he should consider their services no longer necessary.

All being now arranged for the departure of the two parties, the Wolfe of Badenoch became impatient. He courteously assisted the lady to mount her palfrey, and, kissing her hand, bid her a kind adieu. He was about to leap into his own saddle, when he was accosted by Rory Spears.

“My Lord Yearl o’ Buchan, seeing that thy son Sir Andrew, i’ the litter yonder, hath not yet gathered his senses anew to tak the charge o’ his ain cunzie, I here deliver up to thee, his father, this purse o’ gowd he did gi’e me, the which my conscience wull at no rate let me keep, seeing that it wad in nowise let me do that the which was covenanted for the yearning o’t.”

“Nay, by St. Barnabas, honest Rory, but thou shalt keep the purse and the coin,” cried the Wolfe, delighted with Rory’s honesty; “thou hast rightly earned it by thy good service to thy lady. I will be answerable to my son Andrew for this thy well-won guerdon, so make thyself easy on that score.”

“Thanks, most noble Yearl,” cried Rory as he pouched the purse, and mounted his ragged nag to ride after the lady, his countenance shining with glee. “By’r lackins, but this is as good as the plunder of a whole campaign against the Englishers.”[394]

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