"I better deserved the name, my Lord," said Rashleigh, turning his eyes piously upward, "when under an able tutor I sought to introduce civil war into a peaceful country. But I have since done my best to atone for my errors."
Frank Osbaldistone could hold out no longer.
"If there is one thing on earth more hideous than another," he cried, "it is villainy masked by hypocrisy!"
"Ha, my gentle cousin," said Rashleigh, holding a candle toward Frank and surveying him from head to foot, "right welcome to Osbaldistone Hall. I can forgive your spleen. It is hard to lose an estate and a sweetheart in one night. For now we must take possession of this poor manor-house in the name of the lawful heir, Sir Rashleigh Osbaldistone!"
But though Rashleigh braved it out thus, he was clearly far from comfortable, and especially did he wince when Diana told him that what he had now done had been the work of an hour, but that it would furnish him with reflections for a lifetime.
"And of what nature these will be," she added, "I leave to your own conscience, which will not slumber forever!"
So presently the three prisoners were carried off. Syddall and Andrew were ordered to be turned out of the house, the latter complaining bitterly.
"I only said that surely my master was speaking to a ghost in the library--and that villain Lancie--thus to betray an auld friend that has sung aff the same Psalm-book wi" him for twenty years!"
However, Andrew had just got clear of the avenue when he fell among a drove of Highland cattle, the drivers of which questioned him tightly as to what had happened at the Hall. They then talked in whispers among themselves till the lumbering sound of a coach was heard coming down the road from the house. The Highlanders listened attentively. The escort consisted of Rashleigh and several peace-officers.
So soon as the carriage had pa.s.sed the avenue gate, it was shut behind the cavalcade by a Highlandman, stationed there for the purpose. At the same time the carriage was impeded in its further progress by some felled trees which had been dragged across the road. The cattle also got in the way of the horses, and the escort began to drive them off with their whips.
"Who dares abuse our cattle," said a rough voice; "shoot him down, Angus!"
"A rescue--a rescue!" shouted Rashleigh, instantly comprehending what had taken place, and, firing a pistol, he wounded the man who had spoken.
"_Claymore!_" cried the leader of the Highlanders, and an affray instantly engaged. The officers of the law, unused to such prompt bloodshed, offered little real resistance. They galloped off in different directions as fast as their beasts would carry them.
Rashleigh, however, who had been dismounted, maintained on foot a desperate and single-handed conflict with the leader of the band. At last he dropped.
"Will you ask forgiveness for the sake of G.o.d, King James, and auld friendship?" demanded a voice which Frank knew well.
"No, never!" cried Rashleigh, fiercely.
"Then, traitor, die in your treason!" retorted Mac-Gregor, and plunged his sword into the prostrate antagonist.
Rob Roy then drew out the attorney Clerk Jobson from the carriage, more dead than alive, and threw him under the wheel.
"Mr. Osbaldistone," he said in Frank"s ear, "you have nothing to fear.
Your friends will soon be in safety. Farewell, and forget not the Mac-Gregor!"
"_And that_," I said, "_is all!_"
But I was instantly overwhelmed by the rush of a living wave.
"No, no," cried the children, throwing themselves upon me, "you must tell us what became of Rob Roy--of the Bailie--of Dougal!"
These demands came from the boys.
"And if Diana married Frank, or went to the convent?" interjected Sweetheart.
"Well," I said, "I can soon answer all these questions. Sir Frederick died soon after, but before his end he relieved his daughter from her promise to enter a convent. She married Mr. Frank Osbaldistone instead."
"And lived happy ever after?" added Maid Margaret, who was at the "fairy princess" stage of literature.
"Except when she got cross with him," commented Sir Toady, an uncompromising realist, with pessimistic views on womenkind.
"And Rob Roy held his ground among his native mountains until he died."
"Tell us about the Bailie," said Hugh John; "I liked the Bailie--he"s jolly!"
I told him that he was far from being alone in that opinion.
"The Bailie," I answered, "lived, as the Maid says, happily ever after, having very wisely married his servant Mattie. He carried on all the northern affairs of Osbaldistone and Tresham, now a greater commercial house than ever, and lived to be Lord Provost of the city of Glasgow."
"Let Glasgow flourish!" cried Sir Toady, spontaneously. And the audience concluded the fourth tale and last from _Rob Roy_ with a very pa.s.sable imitation of a Highland yell.
THE END OF THE LAST TALE FROM "ROB ROY."
RED CAP TALES
TOLD FROM
THE ANTIQUARY
THE FIRST TALE FROM "THE ANTIQUARY"
THE children lay p.r.o.ne on the floor of the library in various positions of juvenile comfort, watching the firewood in the big wide grate sparkle and crackle, or the broad snowflakes "spat" against the window-panes, where they stuck awhile as if gummed, and then began reluctantly to trickle down. As Sir Toady Lion said, "It was certainly a nice day on which to stop IN!"
The choice of the book from which to tell the next Red Cap Tale had been a work of some difficulty.
Hugh John had demanded _Ivanhoe_, chiefly because there was a chapter in it about shooting with the bow, the which he had read in his school reader when he ought to have been preparing his Latin. Sir Toady wanted _The Fortunes of Nigel_, because the t.i.tle sounded adventurous. Sweetheart, who has been sometimes to the play, was insistent for _The Bride of Lammermoor_, while as to Maid Margaret, she was indifferent, so long as it was "nice and eecitin"."
But the tale-teller, being in the position of the Man-with-the-Purse (or in that of the House of Commons with regard to the granting of supplies), held to it that, in spite of its "growed-up" t.i.tle, _The Antiquary_ would be the most suitable. First, because we had agreed to go right through the Scottish stories; secondly, because _The Antiquary_ was one of the first which Sir Walter wrote; and thirdly and lastly, because he, the tale-teller aforesaid, "felt like it."
At this, I saw Hugh John look at his brother with the quick glance of intelligence which children exchange when they encounter the Superior Force.
That unspoken message said clearly and neatly, "Pretty thing asking us to select the book, when he had it all settled from the start!"
Nevertheless, I made no remark, but with my eyes on the click of Sweetheart"s knitting needles (for in the intervals of nursery wars Sweetheart grows a diligent housewife), I began in the restful silence of that snowy Sat.u.r.day my first tale from _The Antiquary_.
I. THE MYSTERIOUS MR. LOVEL