"Oscar, twice you have saved me; and your last service was greater than your first. Henceforward we never part."
The rest of the journey was accomplished with speed and safety. The glen of Benvorlich was reached. Two days afterwards the king"s troops arrived; but the nest was cold, and not one trace of the caterans could be found. Little did the worthy serjeant imagine through whose timely information the well-arranged scheme had proved abortive. On the contrary, his suspicions rested on Macpherson, who was taken back in custody, to the port of Monteith, and there dismissed with ignominy. A week or two afterwards, he was found murdered, with a label on his breast, bearing these words--"The proper reward of a traitor."
The day preceding that fixed for the nuptials, Roderick returned in safety--Oscar following at his heel. He made no mention of his adventure in the bothy, or his second obligation to his canine attendant; he merely observed that his journey had been prosperous.
"Father, I have seen him; and in the leader of the caterans, the heir of Inshannock was detected. He knew me not as your son. I told him your sorrow and your proffer; and here is his answer."
Here he delivered a letter to Campbell, who, hastily unfolding it, read as follows:--
"DONALD CAMPBELL,--In vain you seek, by offering back my own, to extinguish my hatred. It is not by gifts that you could deter me from my revenge. Repent; and if the remorse your messenger so forcibly describes is genuine, it will do more to procure my forgiveness than all the wealth you could heap upon me. I shall watch over you; and if--as I shall learn--your repentance is sincere, you may yet escape my vengeance."
"Strange--very strange!" exclaimed the old man. "Then he rejects my offer. But how could I expect otherwise! The last scion of a n.o.ble race, he will not compromise the name of Grahame by accepting even his own from the hand of a Campbell. Well, Roderick, Inshannock shall be your marriage-portion with Annette; and you shall hold these lands under the condition that they shall be replaced by others whensoever William Grahame shall demand them from you."
"Sir, I accept your gift: the lands of Inshannock are mine so long as unclaimed by the lawful proprietor."
"Agreed. Thus one weight is off my mind; and, my dear Roderick, may I hope that the burden will press less heavily on you than it has on me; and that some day, I trust not very remote, shall witness the surrender of your stewardship to the rightful owner?"
"That Inshannock may devolve on him who has best right to it, is as much my wish as yours."
The ensuing day, the minister of Kilmun united Roderick Campbell to Annette Gordon. The marriage was kept quite private, contrary to the usual custom in the Highlands; but this was at the express desire of Roderick, who told his father that it ill became one who had so recently received a pardon for his transgressions to make any public display, even on such an occasion.
Everything, therefore, was quietly managed--two or three friends only being present, to whom the old laird introduced his son for the first time.
In place of returning to the Tower of Gloom, the married couple and the father proceeded to Dungyle, where the honeymoon was spent. Matrimony acts differently upon different people; in some cases it sweetens, in others it sours, the temper. With Roderick it operated in the former manner; for our hero had entirely divested himself of that gloom and melancholy which characterised his conduct upon his first return to the house of his parent. With his father it was different. As his life drew near a close, his despondency increased. It was in vain that Annette soothed him, or that Roderick offered him comfort. No longer was he hunted by the cateran chief--no more were his lands devastated, or his cattle carried off. All was quiet, save the workings of his conscience.
He grew weaker and weaker, till at last he was compelled to keep his bed. Medical advice was procured, but in vain. The skill of the physician could not r.e.t.a.r.d the approach of death.
One beautiful evening, as his son sat beside his bedside--
"Roderick," he feebly exclaimed, "my last hour is at hand. One thing I could wish; but that, I fear, is impossible."
"What is it, sir?"
"That William Grahame could witness my sufferings--could satisfy himself of my penitence, and ease my soul by his forgiveness."
"And could his forgiveness afford you relief?"
"It would."
"Then you are forgiven."
"What mean you?"
"I AM William Grahame; and I forgive you from the bottom of my heart."
"My son, what has come over you?"
"Farther concealment would add to my crime. Hear me. I am the son of Reginald Grahame, and the intended avenger of his wrongs. It was I who pursued you, and ravaged your lands. It was to satisfy my vengeance that I stole into the Tower of Gloom. I represented myself as your long-lost son, that I might make you drink the cup of bitterness even to the dregs. I saw Annette: her gentle but affectionate manners, her kind attentions, made a deep impression. When I retired to rest, my breast was strangely perplexed, and the feeling of revenge predominated. Then came the attempt by Moome upon my life, which was averted by the n.o.ble animal I had once consigned to destruction, and whose reappearance in the tower filled me with astonishment. The nurse, by some singular instinct, to me inexplicable, had discovered me. Her death preserved my secret.
"This incident again made my purpose waver. I continued in the Tower, where the influence of Annette softened my vindictive feelings. Still I could not bring myself to bear with patience your paternal kindness. I left you, to join my followers, resolving to fly; still Annette drew me back again. Then came the pardon, to me of inestimable value, as under it I could shelter myself from all consequences, even had any one recognised the cateran chief in the heir of the Laird of Dungyle and Inshannock.
"I saw before me a happiness I could never, even in my most imaginative moments, have previously contemplated. It was necessary to visit the band, of which I was still nominally the leader. By a singular mean, I became accidentally aware of a plan to surround and capture my brave companions. A miscreant of the name of Macpherson, who had been with me for some time, and had acquired a knowledge of all our places of retreat, for the sake of lucre, betrayed his a.s.sociates. I was very nearly in his power; and, but for my faithful Oscar, would have been recognised as the bandit chief, and delivered up to justice. I escaped in time to warn my friends. They fled; and the military sent for the capture were entirely baffled.
"I seized on this moment to devolve the command on the lieutenant, and to resign my sceptre for ever. I parted from my old followers, with deep regret; for they were, to a man, attached to me. Although I had strictly forbidden the shedding of blood, except in self-defence, I afterwards learned that they had avenged themselves on Macpherson, who was watched, seized, reproached, and dirked.
"After I ceased to rule, the band ceased to prosper. Less cautious than heretofore, the captain and the greater part were surprised and slain; some few were taken prisoners, who were tried, convicted, and sent to the plantations. Much as I regretted the loss of so many faithful adherents, still my sorrow was tempered by the reflection that now my secret was safe, and that I was a free agent. I could hardly bring myself to forgive you, for revenge is dear to a Highlander. Time gradually lessened my hatred; but it was not till subsequent events had shown the deepness of your regret, and the reality of your self-reproach, that my resentment finally gave way. I even began to pity; and though, at one time, I should have rejoiced and gloried in my imposture, now I regard it in a different light; and, so far from your asking my forgiveness, it is I ought to be a suppliant to you."
"Roderick--for so I must still call you," e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the old man--"it is not for me to complain. Your presence and your pardon have eased the mental torment I suffered. To me you have acted as a son; continue to do so; let the secret die with us. No one is injured; and the rightful heir resumes the lands of his ancestors without any one to oppose him; for Annette, failing issue of my own body, is my next heir."
"Your will is mine: if such is your command, it shall be obeyed."
"Give me your hand. I shall now die content. It is needless to distress Annette: let her never know that you are not her cousin."
The old laird lingered a few days, and then died in peace and charity with all.
Some twenty-five years after the death of the old Laird of Dungyle, the estates came into the possession of his grandson, Donald. Roderick had gone the way of all flesh; Annette survived him; and in the education of her daughter Isabella sought oblivion for her sorrows. Donald was a fine young man; fond of his mother and sister; but by no means under petticoat government. Whilst at Edinburgh College, he formed an intimacy with the Master of Methven--the eldest son of Lord Methven, a peer of ancient family--and to the friendship thus formed it is more than probable that a love for the Honourable Emma Methven not a little contributed.
As Donald was an excellent match for the daughter of a by-no-means-opulent n.o.bleman, the intimacy was cultivated by the parents; and Roderick, whose great object was the happiness of his son, gave a sanction, before his demise, to the projected union. After the period of mourning had elapsed, preparations were made for the marriage, and the lawyers were busy with the settlements.
One morning, about a fortnight before the day fixed for the nuptials, Donald received a letter, the contents of which excited the most lively astonishment. It was as follows:--
"SIR,--We are instructed by our client, Mr. Roderick Campbell, of Dungyle, to take legal steps against you to recover the estates wrongfully held by you, and which belong to him. We have, therefore, to intimate to you, unless they are surrendered in the course of a fortnight, legal steps will be adopted.--We are, sir, your obedient servants,
"SHARPE & SWIFT, W.S.
"ST. JAMES" COURT,
"_20th March, 17--._"
"Sharp and Swift, with a vengeance!" exclaimed the bewildered youth.
"Sharp work, to insist upon my giving up my estate; and swift work to do so in a fortnight. What t.i.tle can this man set up to my grandfather"s estate? None that I can conceive; for the descent from him to my father, and from him to me, is undoubted."
Donald, however, lost no time in communicating this unexpected requisition to his intended father-in-law, to whom he handed the letter.
Lord Methven read the epistle carefully.
"Was not Roderick your father"s name?"
"It was, my lord."
"He was implicated in the rebellion of 1745?"
"He was, but he got a remission from the late king of all crimes and offences. He was never attainted."
"Then," rejoined his lordship, "I am quite at fault. It certainly did occur to me that this claim might have been rested upon his supposed attainture. With your permission I will place this doc.u.ment in the hands of my family agents, Messrs. Slow & Sure, W.S., and direct them to enter into a communication with the agents of your unknown adversary."
It would not be very interesting to our readers to detail the legal game of chess played by these skilful men of law against each other; and it may suffice to mention, that the claim, which extended to all the large estates of the old Laird of Dungyle, was based upon the fact, that the compet.i.tor was neither more nor less than the son, whose place had been filled by Roderick.
As the imposture of Roderick Grahame had been carefully concealed, and the secret had apparently died with him, his son and widow naturally viewed the claim as purely fict.i.tious, and characterised the demand as an attempt to extort money; nevertheless, they were staggered by the bold steps adopted by their opponent, who proceeded to get himself served, before the bailies of the Canongate, as only lawful son of Donald Campbell, of Dungyle and Inshannock. The proof was apparently conclusive: the identification of the claimant was dependent upon the testimony of two witnesses, who swore distinctly to the fact. It was proved that young Campbell went to France, held a situation in the court of Prince Charles, commonly called the Pretender, and that he left it suddenly. This had occurred upwards of twenty years before; but no evidence was given of where he had been after that period, although he gave out that he had been captured at sea by a Barbary corsair, sold as a slave, and had only recently escaped.