The novels and tales of Robert Louis Stevenson

ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON

VOL. IX

THE MASTER OF
BALLANTRAE

THE NOVELS AND
TALES OF ROBERT
LOUIS STEVENSON

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a winter's tale

tPUBLISHED IN

NEW YORK BY

CHARLES SCRIBNER'S

"Beyond doubt he rurv recognised himself for los

had sou: ,r.-£

U AM HOLE.

THE NOVELS AND
TALES OF ROBERT
LOUIS STEVENSON

T

HE MASTER OF
BALLANTRAE $

a winter's tale

^PUBLISHED IN
NEW YORK BY
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S
SONS * * 1903 *

Copyright, 1888, 1895, bV
CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS.

TO
SIR PERCY FLORENCE AND LADY SHELLEY

HERE is a tale which extends over many years and travels into many
countries. By a peculiar fitness of circumstance the writer began,
continued it, and concluded it among distant and diverse scenes.
Above all, he was much upon the sea. The character and fortune
of the fraternal enemies, the hall and shrubbery of Durrisdeer, the
problem of Mackellar's homespun and how to shape it for superior
flights; these were his company on deck in many star-reflecting
harbours, ran often in his mind at sea to the tune of slatting canvas,
and were dismissed (something of the suddenest) on the approach
of squalls. It is my hope that these surroundings of its manufacture
may to some degree find favour for my story with seafarers and sea-
lovers like yourselves.

And at least here is a dedication from a great way off; written
by the loud shores of a subtropical island near upon ten thousand
miles from Boscombe Chine and Manor: scenes which rise before
me as I write, along with the faces and voices of my friends.

Well, I am for the sea once more; no doubt Sir Percy also. Let
us make the signal B. R. D. !

R. L. S.

WAIKIKI, MAY 17, 1889.

CONTENTS

PAGE

SUMMARY OF EVENTS DURING THE MASTER'S WAN-

DERINGS

THE MASTER'S WANDERINGS : FROM THE MEMOIRS OF THE
CHEVALIER DE BURKE 35

PERSECUTIONS ENDURED BY MR. HENRY 74

ACCOUNT OF ALL THAT PASSED ON THE NIGHT OF

FEBRUARY 27™, 1757 116

SUMMARY OF EVENTS DURING THE MASTER'S SECOND

ABSENCE 142

ADVENTURE OF CHEVALIER BURKE IN INDIA : EXTRACTED
raoM HIS MEMOIRS 167

THE ENEMY IN THE HOUSE 173

CONTENTS

PAGE

MR. MACKELLAR'S JOURNEY WITH THE MASTER . . 199

PASSAGES AT NEW YORK 222

THE JOURNEY IN THE WILDERNESS 245

NARRATIVE OF THE TRADER, MOUNTAIN 257

THE JOURNEY IN THE WILDERNESS— CONCLUDED . . .274

THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

SUMMARY OF EVENTS DURING THE
MASTER'S WANDERINGS

THE full truth of this odd matter is what the world
has long been looking for and public curiosity
is sure to welcome. It so befell that I was intimately
mingled with the last years and history of the house;
and there does not live one man so able as myself to
make these matters plain, or so desirous to narrate them
faithfully. I knew the Master ; on many secret steps of
his career, I have an authentic memoir in my hand; I
sailed with him on his last voyage almost alone ; I made
one upon that winter's journey of which so many tales
have gone abroad ; and I was there at the man's death.
As for my late Lord Durrisdeer, I served him and loved
him near twenty years ; and thought more of him the
more I knew of him. Altogether, I think it not fit that
so much evidence should perish ; the truth is a debt I
owe my lord's memory ; and I think my old years will
flow more smoothly and my white hair lie quieter on
the pillow when the debt is paid.
The Duries of Durrisdeer and Ballantrae were a strong

THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

family in the southwest from the days of David First. A
rhyme still current in the countryside —

Kittle folk are the Durrisdeers,
They ride wi' ower mony spears—

bears the mark of its antiquity ; and the name appears in
another, which common report attributes to Thomas of
Ercildoune himself — I cannot say how truly, and which
some have applied — I dare not say with how much
justice — to the events of this narration:

Twa Duries in Durrisdeer,

Ane to tie and ane to ride,
An ill day for the groom

And a waur day for the bride.

Authentic history besides is filled with their exploits
which (to our modern eyes) seem not very commend-
able; and the family suffered its full share of those ups
and downs to which the great houses of Scotland have
been ever liable. But all these I pass over, to come to
that memorable year 1745, when the foundations of this
tragedy were laid.

At that time there dwelt a family of four persons in
the house of Durrisdeer, near St. Bride's, on the Solway
shore; a chief hold of their race since the reformation.
My old lord, eighth of the name, was not old in years,
but he suffered prematurely from the disabilities of age;
his place was at the chimney side; there he sat reading,
in a lined gown, with few words for any man, and wry
words for none: the model of an old retired house-
keeper; and yet his mind very well nourished with

SUMMARY OF EVENTS

study, and reputed in the country to be more cunning
than he seemed. The Master of Ballantrae, James in
baptism, took from his father the love of serious reading;
some of his tact perhaps as well, but that which was
only policy in the father became black dissimulation in
the son. The face of his behaviour was merely popular
and wild : he sat late at wine, later at the cards ; had the
name in the country of "an unco man for the lasses";
and was ever in the front of broils. But for all he was
the first to go in, yet it was observed he was invariably
the best to come off; and his partners in mischief were
usually alone to pay the piper. This luck or dexterity
got him several ill-wishers, but with the rest of the coun-
try, enhanced his reputation ; so that great things were
looked for in his future, when he should have gained
more gravity. One very black mark he had to his name;
but the matter was hushed up at the time, and so de-
faced by legends before I came into those parts, that 1
scruple to set it down. If it was true, it was a horrid
fact in one so young; and if false, it was a horrid
calumny. I think it notable that he had always
vaunted himself quite implacable, and was taken at
his word; so that he had the addition among his
neighbours of "an ill man to cross." Here was alto-
gether a young nobleman (not yet twenty-four in
the year '45) who had made a figure in the country
beyond his time of life. The less marvel if there
were little heard of the second son, Mr. Henry (my
late Lord Durrisdeer), who was neither very bad nor
yet very able, but an honest, solid sort of lad like
many of his neighbours. Little heard, I say; but in-
deed it was a case of little spoken. He was known

3

THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

among the salmon fishers in the firth, for that was
a sport that he assiduously followed; he was an ex-
cellent good horse-doctor besides; and took a chief
hand, almost from a boy, in the management of the
estates. How hard a part that was, in the situation
of that family, none knows better than myself; nor
yet with how little colour of justice a man may
there acquire the reputation of a tyrant and a miser.
The fourth person in the house was Miss Alison
Graeme, a near kinswoman, an orphan, and the heir
to a considerable fortune which her father had ac-
quired in trade. This money was loudly called for
by my lord's necessities ; indeed the land was deeply
mortgaged; and Miss Alison was designed accord-
ingly to be the Master's wife, gladly enough on her
side; with how much good will on his, is another
matter. She was a comely girl and in those days very
spirited and self-willed; for the old lord having no
daughter of his own, and my lady being long dead,
she had grown up as best she might.

To these four, came the news of Prince Charlie's
landing, and set them presently by the ears. My lord,
like the chimney-keeper that he was, was all for tem-
porising. Miss Alison held the other side, because it
appeared romantical; and the Master (though I have
heard they did not agree often) was for this once of
her opinion. The adventure tempted him, as I con-
ceive; he was tempted by the opportunity to raise
the fortunes of the house, and not less by the hope
of paying off his private liabilities, which were heavy
beyond all opinion. As for Mr. Henry, it appears he
said little enough at first; his part came later on. It

4

SUMMARY OF EVENTS

took the three a whole day's disputation, before they
agreed to steer a middle course, one son going forth to
strike a blow for King James, my lord and the other
staying at home to keep in favour with King George.
Doubtless this was my lord's decision; and as is well
known, it was the part played by many considerable
families. But the one dispute settled, another opened.
For my lord, Miss Alison and Mr. Henry all held the
one view : that it was the cadet's part to go out ; and
the Master, what with restlessness and vanity, would
at no rate consent to stay at home. My lord pleaded,
Miss Alison wept, Mr. Henry was very plain spoken :
all was of no avail.

"It is the direct heir of Durrisdeer that should ride
by his King's bridle," says the Master.

" If we were playing a manly part," says Mr. Henry,
"there might be sense in such talk. But what are we
doing ? Cheating at cards! "

"We are saving the house of Durrisdeer, Henry,"
his father said.

"And see, James," said Mr. Henry, "if I go, and
the Prince has the upper hand, it will be easy to make
your peace with King James. But if you go, and the
expedition fails, we divide the right and the title. And
what shall I be then ? "

"You will be Lord Durrisdeer," said the Master.
" I put all I have upon the table."

"I play at no such game," cries Mr. Henry. "I
shall be left in such a situation as no man of sense and
honour could endure. I shall be neither fish nor
flesh!" he cried. And a little after, he had another
expression, plainer perhaps than he intended. "It is

5

THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

your duty to be here with my father," said he. "You
know well enough you are the favourite."

" Ay ? " said the Master. " And there spoke Envy!
Would you trip up my heels — Jacob?" said he, and
dwelled upon the name maliciously.

Mr. Henry went and walked at the low ,end of the
hall without reply; for he had an excellent gift of
silence. Presently he came back.

"I am the cadet and I should go," said he. "And
my lord here is the master, and he says I shall go.
What say ye to that, my brother ? "

"I say this, Harry," returned the Master, "that
when very obstinate folk are met, there are only two
ways out: Blows — and I think none of us could care
to go so far; or the arbitrament of chance — and here
is a guinea piece. Will you stand by the toss of the
coin?"

"I will stand and fall by it," said Mr. Henry.
"Heads, I go; shield, I stay."

The coin was spun and it fell shield. " So there is a
lesson for Jacob," says the Master.

"We shall live to repent of this," says Mr. Henry,
and flung out of the hall.

As for Miss Alison, she caught up that piece of gold
which had just sent her lover to the wars, and flung it
clean through the family shield in the great painted
window.

" If you loved me as well as I love you, you would
have stayed," cried she.

" ' I could not love you, dear, so well, loved I not
honour more,'" sang the Master.

"O!" she cried, "you have no heart — I hope you

6

SUMMARY OF EVENTS

may be killed ! " and she ran from the room, and hi
tears to her own chamber.

It seems the Master turned to my lord with his most
comical manner, and says he, "This looks like a devil
of a wife."

" I think you are a devil of a son to me," cried his
father, "you that have always been the favourite, to my
shame be it spoken. Never a good hour have 1 gotten
of you, since you were born ; no, never one good hour,"
and repeated it again the third time. Whether it
was the Master's levity, or his insubordination, or Mr.
Henry's word about the favourite son, that had so
much disturbed my lord, I do not know ; but I incline to
think it was the last, for I have it by all accounts that
Mr. Henry was more made up to from that hour.

Altogether it was in pretty ill blood with his family
that the Master rode to the north ; which was the more
sorrowful for others to remember when it seemed too
late. By fear and favour, he had scraped together near
upon a dozen men, principally tenants' sons; they were
all pretty full when they set forth, and rode up the hill
by the old abbey, roaring and singing, the white cock-
ade in every hat. It was a desperate venture for so
small a company to cross the most of Scotland unsup-
ported ; and (what made folk think so the more) even
as that poor dozen was clattering up the hill, a great
ship of the king's navy, that could have brought them
under with a single boat, lay with her broad ensign
streaming in the bay. The next afternoon, having
given the Master a fair start, it was Mr. Henry's turn ;
and he rode off, all by himself, to offer his sword and
carry letters from his father to King George's govern-

7

THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

ment. Miss Alison was shut in her room and did little
but weep, till both were gone ; only she stitched the cock-
ade upon the Master's hat and (as John Paul told me) it
was wetted with tears when he carried it down to him.
In all that followed, Mr. Henry and my old lord were
true to their bargain. That ever they accomplished
anything is more than I could learn; and that they
were anyway strong on the king's side, more than I be-
lieve. But they kept the letter of loyalty, corresponded
with my Lord President, sat still at home, and had
little or no commerce with the Master while that busi-
ness lasted. Nor was he, on his side, more communi-
cative. Miss Alison, indeed, was always sending him
expresses, but I do not know if she had many answers.
Macconochie rode for her once, and found the High-
landers before Carlisle, and the Master riding by the
Prince's side in high favour; he took the letter (so Mac-
conochie tells), opened it, glanced it through with a
mouth like a man whistling, and stuck it in his belt,
whence, on his horse passageing, it fell unregarded to
the ground. It was Macconochie who picked it up;
and he still kept it, and indeed I have seen it in his
hands. News came to Durrisdeer of course, by the
common report, as it goes travelling through a coun-
try, a thing always wonderful to me. By that means
the family learned more of the Master's favour with the
Prince, and the ground it was said to stand on : for by
a strange condescension in a man so proud — only that
he was a man still more ambitious — he was said to
have crept into notability by truckling to the Irish. Sir
Thomas Sullivan, Colonel Burke and the rest were his
daily comrades, by which course he withdrew himself

SUMMARY OF EVENTS

from his own country folk. All the small intrigues, he
hau a hand in fomenting; thwarted my Lord George
upon a thousand points; was always for the advice
that seemed palatable to the Prince, no matter if it was
good or bad; and seems upon the whole (like the
gambler he was all through life) to have had less re-
gard to the chances of the campaign than to the great-
ness of favour he might aspire to, if (by any luck) it
should succeed. For the rest, he did very well in the
field; no one questioned that; for he was no coward.

The next was the news of Culloden, which was
brought to Durrisdeer by one of the tenants' sons, the
only survivor, he declared, of all those that had gone
singing up the hill. By an unfortunate chance, John
Paul and Macconochie had that very morning found the
guinea piece (which was the root of all the evil) stick-
ing in a holly bush; they had been "up the gait," as
the servants say at Durrisdeer, to the change house;
and if they had little left of the guinea, they had less of
their wits. What must John Paul do, but burst into
the hall where the family sat at dinner, and cry the
news to them that "Tarn Macmorland was but new
lichtit at the door, and — wirra, wirra — there were
nane to come behind him "?

They took the word in silence like folk condemned ;
only Mr. Henry carrying his palm to his face, and Miss
Alison laying her head outright upon her hands. As
for my lord, he was like ashes.

"I have still one son," says he. "And Henry, I
will do you this justice, it is the kinder that is left."

It was a strange thing to say in such a moment: but
my lord had never forgotten Mr. Henry's speech, and

THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

he had years of injustice on his conscience. Still it
was a strange thing; and more than Miss Alison could
let pass. She broke out and blamed my lord for his
unnatural words, and Mr. Henry because he was sit-
ting there in safety when his brother lay dead, and her-
self because she had given her sweetheart ill words at
his departure; calling him the flower of the flock,
wringing her hands, protesting her love, and crying
on him by his name; so that the servants stood as-
tonished.

Mr. Henry got to his feet and stood holding his chair;
it was he that was like ashes now.

"O," he burst out suddenly, "I know you loved
him!"

"The world knows that, glory be to God!" cried
she; and then to Mr. Henry: "There is none but me
to know one thing — that you were a traitor to him in
your heart."

" God knows," groans he, "it was lost love on both
sides."

Time went by in the house after that, without much
change; only they were now three instead of four,
which was a perpetual reminder of their loss. Miss
Alison's money, you are to bear in mind, was highly
needful for the estates ; and the one brother being dead,
my old lord soon set his heart upon her marrying the
other. Day in, day out, he would work upon her,
sitting by the chimney side with his finger in his Latin
book, and his eyes set upon her face with a kind of
pleasant intentness that became the old gentleman very
well. If she wept, he would condole with her, like an
ancient man that has seen worse times and begins to

SUMMARY OF EVENTS

think lightly even of sorrow ; if she raged, he would
fall to reading again in his Latin book, but always with
some civil excuse; if she offered (as she often did) to
let them have her money in a gift, he would show her
how little it consisted with his honour, and remind her,
even if he should consent, that Mr. Henry would cer-
tainly refuse. Non vi sed scepe cadendo was a favourite
word of his ; and no doubt this quiet persecution wore
away much of her resolve ; no doubt, besides, he had a
great influence on the girl, having stood in the place of
both her parents ; and for that matter, she was herself
filled with the spirit of the Duries, and would have gone
a great way for the glory of Durrisdeer; but not so far,
I think, as to marry my poor patron, had it not been
(strangely enough) for the circumstance of his extreme
unpopularity.

This was the work of Tam Macmorland. There was
not much harm in Tam ; but he had that grievous weak-
ness, a long tongue ; and as the only man in that coun-
try who had been out (or rather who had come in again)
he was sure of listeners. Those that have the underhand
in any fighting, I have observed, are ever anxious to
persuade themselves they were betrayed. By Tarn's
account of it, the rebels had been betrayed at every
turn and by every officer they had; they had been be-
trayed at Derby, and betrayed at Falkirk ; the night
march was a step of treachery of my Lord George's ;
and Culloden was lost by the treachery of the Mac-
donalds. This habit of imputing treason grew upon
the fool, till at last he must have in Mr. Henry also.
Mr. Henry (by his account) had betrayed the lads of
Durrisdeer; he had promised to follow with more men,

THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

and instead of that he had ridden to King George. "Ay,
and the next day! " Tarn would cry. "The puir, bon-
nie Master and the puir, kind lads that rade wi' him,
were hardly ower the scaur, or he was aff — the Judis!
Ay, weel — he has his way o't: he's to be my lord,
nae less, and there's mony a cauld corp amang the
Hieland heather! " And at this, if Tam had been drink-
ing, he would begin to weep.

Let anyone speak long enough, he will get believers.
This view of Mr. Henry's behaviour crept about the
country by little and little ; it was talked upon by folk
that knew the contrary but were short of topics ; and it
was heard and believed and given out for gospel by the
ignorant and the ill-willing. Mr. Henry began to be
shunned ; yet awhile, and the commons began to mur-
mur as he went by, and the women (who are always
the most bold because they are the most safe) to cry out
their reproaches to his face. The Master was cried up
for a saint. It was remembered how he had never any
hand in pressing the tenants; as, indeed, no more he
had, except to spend the money. He was a little wild
perhaps, the folk said ; but how much better was a nat-
ural, wild lad that would soon have settled down, than
a skinflint and a sneckdraw, sitting, with his nose in an
account book, to persecute poor tenants. One trollop,
who had had a child to the Master and by all accounts
been very badly used, yet made herself a kind of cham-
pion of his memory. She flung a stone one day at Mr.
Henry.

" Whaur's the bonnie lad that trustit ye ? " she cried.

Mr. Henry reined in his horse and looked upon her,
the blood flowing from his lip. "Ay, Jess ? " says he.

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SUMMARY OF EVENTS

"You too? And yet ye should ken me better." For
it was he who had helped her with money.

The woman had another stone ready, which she made
as if she would cast; and he, to ward himself, threw up
the hand that held his riding rod.

"What, would ye beat a lassie, ye ugly ? " cries

she, and ran away screaming as though he had struck
her.

Next day word went about the country like wildfire
that Mr. Henry had beaten Jessie Broun within an
inch of her life. I give it as one instance of how
this snowball grew and one calumny brought another;
until my poor patron was so perished in reputation
that he began to keep the house like my lord. All this
while, you may be very sure he uttered no complaints
at home ; the very ground of the scandal was too sore
a matter to be handled ; and Mr. Henry was very proud
and strangely obstinate in silence. My old lord must
have heard of it, by John Paul, if by no one else ; and
he must at least have remarked the altered habits of his
son. Yet even he, it is probable, knew not how high
the feeling ran ; and as for Miss Alison, she was ever
the last person to hear news, and the least interested
when she heard them.

In the height of the ill-feeling (for it died away as
it came, no man could say why) there was an elec-
tion forward in the town of St. Bride's, which is
the next to Durrisdeer, standing on the Water of
Swift; some grievance was fermenting, I forget what,
if ever I heard ; and it was currently said there would
be broken heads ere night, and that the sheriff had
sent as far as Dumfries for soldiers. My lord moved

13

THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

that Mr. Henry should be present; assuring him it
was necessary to appear, for the credit of the house.
"It will soon be reported," said he, "that we do
not take the lead in our own country."

"It is a strange lead that I can take," said Mr.
Henry; and when they had pushed him further, "I
tell you the plain truth," he said, "I dare not show
my face."

" You are the first of the house that ever said
so," cries Miss Alison.

"We will go all three," said my lord; and sure
enough he got into his boots (the first time in four
years — a. sore business John Paul had to get them
on) and Miss Alison into her riding coat, and all
ihree rode together to St. Bride's.

The streets were full of the riff-raff of all the
countryside, who had no sooner clapped eyes on
Mr. Henry than the hissing began, and the hooting,
and the cries of "Judas!" and "Where was the
Master?" and "Where were the poor lads that rode
with him?" Even a stone was cast; but the more
part cried shame at that, for my old lord's sake and
Miss Alison's. It took not ten minutes to persuade
my lord, that Mr. Henry had been right. He said
never a word, but turned his horse about, and home
again, with his chin upon his bosom. Never a word
said Miss Alison; no doubt she thought the more;
no doubt her pride was stung, for she was a bone-
bred Durie; and no doubt her heart was touched to
see her cousin so unjustly used. That night she was
never in bed; I have often blamed my lady — when I
call to mind that night, I readily forgive her all; and

>4

SUMMARY OF EVENTS

the first thing in the morning, she came to the old
lord in his usual seat.

"If Henry still wants me," said she, "he can have
me now." To himself she had a different speech:
"I bring you no love, Henry; but God knows, all
the pity in the world."

June the first, 1748, was the day of their marriage.
It was December of the same year that first saw me
me alighting at the doors of the great house ; and from
there I take up the history of events as they befell
under my own observation, like a witness in a court.

I made the last of my journey in the cold end of De-
cember, in a mighty dry day of frost ; and who should
be my guide but Patey Macmorland, brother of Tom ?
For a tow-headed, bare- legged brat often, he had more
ill tales upon his tongue than ever I heard the match of ;
having drunken betimes in his brother's cup. I was
still not so old myself; pride had not yet the upperhand
of curiosity ; and indeed it would have taken any man,
that cold morning, to hear all the old clashes of the
country and be shown all the places by the way where
strange things had fallen out. I had tales of Claverhouse
as we came through the bogs, and tales of the devil as
we came over the top of the scaur. As we came in by
the abbey I heard somewhat of the old monks, and more
of the freetraders, who use its ruins for a magazine,
landing for that cause within a cannon-shot of Durris-
deer; and along all the road, the Duries and poor Mr.
Henry were in the first rank of slander. My mind was
thus highly prejudiced against the family I was about
to serve ; so that I was half surprised, when I beheld

15

THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

Durrisdeer itself, lying in a pretty, sheltered bay, under
the Abbey Hill; the house most commodiously built in
the French fashion or perhaps Italianate, for I have no
skill in these arts; and the place the most beautified
with gardens, lawns, shrubberies, and trees I had ever
seen. The money sunk here unproductively would
have quite restored the family ; but as it was, it cost a
revenue to keep it up.

Mr. Henry came himself to the door to welcome me :
a tall, dark young gentleman (the Duries are all black
men) of a plain and not cheerful face, very strong in
body but not so strong in health: taking me by the
hand without any pride, and putting me at home with
plain, kind speeches. He led me into the hall, booted
as I was, to present me to my lord. It was still day-
light; and the first thing I observed was a lozenge of
clear glass in the midst of the shield in the painted win-
dow, which I remember thinking a blemish on a room
otherwise so handsome, with its family portraits, and
the pargetted ceiling with pendants, and the carved
chimney, in one corner of which my old lord sat read-
ing in his Livy. He was like Mr. Henry, with much
the same plain countenance, only more subtle and
pleasant, and his talk a thousand times more entertain-
ing. He had many questions to ask me, I remember,
of Edinburgh College, where I had just received my
mastership of arts, and of the various professors, with
whom and their proficiency he seemed well acquainted ;
and thus, talking of things that I knew, I soon got liberty
of speech in my new home.

In the midst of this, came Mrs. Henry into the room ;
she was very far gone, Miss Katharine being due in

16

SUMMARY OF EVENTS

about six weeks, which made me think less of her
beauty at the first sight ; and she used me with more
of condescension than the rest ; so that, upon all ac-
counts, I kept her in the third place of my esteem.

It did not take long before all Pate Macmorland's
tales were blotted out of my belief, and I was become,
what I have ever since remained, a loving servant of
the house of Durrisdeer. Mr. Henry had the chief part
of my affection. It was with him I worked; and I
found him an exacting master, keeping all his kindness
for those hours in which we were unemployed, and in
the steward's office not only loading me with work
but viewing me with a shrewd supervision. At length
one day, he looked up from his paper with a kind of
timidness, and says he, "Mr. Mackellar, I think I ought
to tell you that you do very well." That was my first
word of commendation ; and from that day his jealousy
of my performance was relaxed; soon it was "Mr.
Mackellar" here, and "Mr. Mackellar" there, with the
whole family; and for much of my service at Durris-
deer, I have transacted everything at my own time and
to my own fancy, and never a farthing challenged.
Even while he was driving me, I had begun to find my
heart go out to Mr. Henry; no doubt, partly in pity,
he was a man so palpably unhappy. He would fall
into a deep muse over our accounts, staring at the page
or out of the window ; and at those times the look of his
face, and the sigh that would break from him, awoke
in me strong feelings of curiosity and commiseration.
One day, I remember, we were late upon some busi-
ness in the steward's room. This room is in the top
of the house and has a view upon the bay, and over a

»7

THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

little wooded cape, on the long sands ; and there, right
over against the sun which was then dipping, we saw
the freetraders with a great force of men and horses,
scouring on the beach. Mr. Henry had been staring
straight west, so that I marvelled he was not blinded
by the sun; suddenly he frowns, rubs his hand upon
his brow, and turns to me with a smile.

"You would not guess what I was thinking," says
he. "I was thinking I would be a happier man if I
could ride and run the danger of my life, with these
lawless companions."

I told him I had observed he did not enjoy good
spirits ; and that it was a common fancy to envy others
and think we should be the better of some change;
quoting Horace to the point, like a young man fresh
from college.

"Why, just so," said he. "And with that we may
get back to our accounts."

It was not long before I began to get wind of the
causes that so much depressed him. ' Indeed a blind
man must have soon discovered there was a shadow
on that house, the shadow of the Master of Ballantrae.
Dead or alive (and he was then supposed to be dead)
that man was his brother's rival : his rival abroad, where
there was never a good word for Mr. Henry and no-
thing but regret and praise for the Master; and his rival
at home, not only with his father and his wife, but
with the very servants.

They were two old serving men, that were the leaders.
John Paul, a little, bald, solemn, stomachy man, a great
professor of piety and (take him for all in all) a pretty
faithful servant, was the chief of the Master's faction.

18

SUMMARY OF EVENTS

None durst go so far as John. He took a pleasure in
disregarding Mr. Henry publicly, often with a slighting
comparison. My lord and Mrs. Henry took him up, to
be sure, but never so resolutely as they should ; and he
had only to pull his weeping face and begin his lamen-
tations for the Master — " his laddie," as he called him —
to have the whole condoned. As for Henry, he let
these things pass in silence, sometimes with a sad and
sometimes with a black look. There was no rivalling
the dead, he knew that; and how to censure an old
serving man for a fault of loyalty, was more than he
could see. His was not the tongue to do it.

Macconochie was chief upon the other side ; an old,
ill-spoken, swearing, ranting, drunken dog; and I have
often thought it an odd circumstance in human nature,
that these two serving men should each have been the
champion of his contrary, and blackened their own
faults and made light of their own virtues when they
beheld them in a master. Macconochie had soon smelled
out my secret inclination, took me much into his confi-
dence, and would rant against the Master by the hour,
so that even my work suffered. ' ' They're a' daft here, "
he would cry, " and be damned to them! The Master
— the deil's in their thrapples that should call him sae!
it's Mr. Henry should be Master now! They were
nane sae fond o' the Master when they had him, I'll can
tell ye that. Sorrow on his name ! Never a guid word
did I hear on his lips, nor naebody else, but just fleer-
ing and fly ting and profane cursing — deil ha'e him!
There's nane kent his wickedness : him a gentleman !
Did ever ye hear tell, Mr. Mackellar, o' Wully White
the wabster ? No ? Aweel, Wully was an unco praying

IP

THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

kind o' man ; a driegh body, nane o' my kind, I never
could abide the sight o' him ; ony way he was a great
hand by his way of it, and he up and rebukit the Master
for some of his on-goings. It was a grand thing for the
Master o' Ball'ntrae to tak up a feud wi' a wabster, was-
nae't?" Macconochie would sneer; indeed he never
took the full name upon his lips but with a sort of a
whine of hatred. "But he did! A fine employ it
was : chapping at the man's door, and crying ' boo ' in
his lum, and puttin' poother in his fire, and pee-oys* in
his window ; till the man thocht it was auld Hornie was
come seekin' him. Weel, to mak a lang story short,
Wully gaed gyte. At the hinder end, they couldnae get
him frae his knees, but he just roared and prayed and
grat straucht on, till he got his release. It was fair
murder, a'body said that. Ask John Paul — he was
brawly ashamed o' that game, him that's sic a Christian
man! Grand doin's for the Master o' Ball'ntrae!" I
asked him what the Master had thought of it himself.
" How would I ken ?" says he. " He never said nae-
thing." And on again in his usual manner of banning
and swearing, with every now and again a " Master of
Ballantrae " sneered through his nose. It was in one of
these confidences, that he showed me the Carlisle letter,
the print of the horse shoe still stamped in the paper.
Indeed that was our last confidence; for he then ex-
pressed himself so ill-naturedly of Mrs. Henry, that I
had to reprimand him sharply, and must thenceforth
hold him at a distance.

My old lord was uniformly kind to Mr. Henry; he
had even pretty ways of gratitude, and would some-

*A kind of firework made with damp powder.
20

SUMMARY OF EVENTS

times clap him on the shoulder and say, as if to the
world at large: "This is a very good son to me." And
grateful he was no doubt, being a man of sense and
justice. But I think that was all, and I am sure Mr.
Henry thought so. The love was all for the dead son.
Not that this was often given breath to; indeed with
me but once. My lord had asked me one day how I
got on with Mr. Henry, and I had told him the truth.

"Ay," said he, looking sideways on the burning fire,
"Henry is a good lad, a very good lad," said he.
"You have heard, Mr. Mackellar, that I had another
son ? I am afraid he was not so virtuous a lad as Mr.
Henry; but dear me, he's dead, Mr. Mackellar! and
while he lived we were all very proud of him, all very
proud. If he was not all he should have been in some
ways, well, perhaps we loved him better!" This last
he said looking musingly in the fire; and then to me,
with a great deal of briskness, " But I am rejoiced you
do so well with Mr. Henry. You will find him a good
master." And with that he opened his book, which
was the customary signal of dismission. But it would
be little that he read and less that he understood ; Cul-
loden field and the Master, these would be the burthen
of his thought; and the burthen of mine was an un-
natural jealousy of the dead man for Mr. Henry's sake,
that had even then begun to grow on me.

I am keeping Mrs. Henry for the last so that this ex-
pression of my sentiment may seem unwarrantably
strong: the reader shall judge for himself when I am
done. But 1 must first tell of another matter, which
was the means of bringing me more intimate. I had
not yet been six months at Durrisdeer when it chanced

21

THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

that John Paul fell sick and must keep his bed; drink
was the root of his malady, in my poor thought; but he
was tended and indeed carried himself like an afflicted
saint; and the very minister, who came to visit him,
professed himself edified when he went away. The
third morning of his sickness, Mr. Henry comes to me
with something of a hang-dog look.

"Mackellar," says he, "I wish I could trouble you
upon a little service. There is a pension we pay; it is
John's part to carry it; and now that he is sick, I know
not to whom I should look unless it was yourself. The
matter is very delicate; I could not carry it. with my
own hand for a sufficient reason; I dare not send Mac-
conochie who is a talker, and I am — I have — I am de-
sirous this should not come to Mrs. Henry's ears," says
he, and flushed to his neck as he said it.

To say truth, when I found I was to carry money to
one Jessie Broun who was no better than she should
be, I supposed it was some trip of his own that Mr.
Henry was dissembling. I was the more impressed
when the truth came out.

It was up a wynd off a side street in St. Bride's, that
Jessie had her lodging. The place was very ill inhab-
ited, mostly by the freetrading sort; there was a man
with a broken head at the entry ; half way up, in a tav-
ern, fellows were roaring and singing, though it was
not yet nine in the day. Altogether, I had never seen
a worse neighbourhood even in the great city of Edin-
burgh, and I was in two minds to go back. Jessie's
room was of a piece with her surroundings and herself
no better. She would not give me the receipt (which
Mr. Henry had told me to demand, for he was very

SUMMARY OF EVENTS

methodical) until she had sent out for spirits and I had
pledged her in a glass ; and all the time she carried on
in a light-headed, reckless way, now aping the man-
ners of a lady, now breaking into unseemly mirth, now
making coquettish advances that oppressed me to the
ground. Of the money, she spoke more tragically.

"It's blood money," said she, "I take it for that:
blood money for the betrayed. See what I'm brought
down to! Ah, if the bonnie lad were back again, it
would be changed days. But he's deid — he's lyin'
deid amang the Hieland hills — the bonnie lad, the
bonnie lad!"

She had a rapt manner of crying on the bonnie lad,
clasping her hands and casting up her eyes, that I think
she must have learned of strolling players; and I
thought her sorrow very much of an affectation, and
that she dwelled upon the business because her shame
was now all she had to be proud of. I will not say I
did not pity her, but it was a loathing pity at the best;
and her last change of manner wiped it out. This was
when she had had enough of me for an audience and
had set her name at last to the receipt "There!"
says she, and taking the most unwomanly oaths upon
her tongue, bade me begone and carry it to the Judas
who had sent me. It was the first time I had heard
the name applied to Mr. Henry; I was staggered be-
sides at her sudden vehemence of word and manner;
and got forth from the room, under this shower of
curses, like a beaten dog. But even then I was not
quit; for the vixen threw up her window and, leaning
forth, continued to revile me as I went up the wynd;
the freetraders, coming to the tavern door, joined in

23

THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

the mockery; and one had even the inhumanity to set
upon me a very savage, small dog, which bit me in the
ankle. This was a strong lesson, had I required one,
to avoid ill company; and I rode home in much pain
from the bite and considerable indignation of mind.

Mr. Henry was in the steward's room, affecting em-
ployment, but I could see he was only impatient to
hear of my errand.

"Well?" says he, as soon as I came in; and when I
had told him something of what passed, and that Jessie
seemed an undeserving woman and far from grateful :
"She is no friend to me," said he; "but indeed, Mac-
kellar, I have few friends to boast of; and Jessie has
some cause to be unjust. I need not dissemble what
all the country knows: she was not very well used by
one of our family." This was the first time I had heard
him refer to the Master even distantly; and I think he
found his tongue rebellious, even for that much; but
presently he resumed. "This is why I would have
nothing said. It would give pain to Mrs. Henry . . .
and to my father," he added with another flush.

"Mr. Henry," said I, "if you will take a freedom at
my hands, I would tell you to let that woman be.
What service is your money to the like of her? She
has no sobriety and no economy ; as for gratitude, you
will as soon get milk from a whinstone; and if you
will pretermit your bounty, it will make no change at
all but just to save the ankles of your messengers."

Mr. Henry smiled. "But I am grieved about your
ankle," said he, the next moment, with a proper
gravity.

*' And observe," I continued, " I give you this advice
24

SUMMARY OF EVENTS

upon consideration ; and yet my heart was touched for
the woman in the beginning."

"Why there it is, you see! " said Mr. Henry. "And
you are to remember that I knew her once a very de-
cent lass. Besides which, although I speak little of my
family, I think much of its repute."

And with that he broke up the talk, which was the
first we had together in such confidence. But the
same afternoon, I had the proof that his father was per-
fectly acquainted with the business, and that it was
only from his wife that Mr. Henry kept it secret.

"I fear you had a painful errand to-day," says my
lord to me: " for which, as it enters in no way among
your duties, I wish to thank you, and to remind you at
the same time (in case Mr. Henry should have neg-
lected) how very desirable it is that no word of it
should reach my daughter. Reflections on the dead,
Mr. Mackellar, are doubly painful."

Anger glowed in my heart; and I could have told
my lord to his face how little he had to do, bolstering
up the image of the dead in Mrs. Henry's heart, and
how much better he were employed, to shatter that
false idol. For by this time, I saw very well how the
land lay between my patron and his wife.

My pen is clear enough to tell a plain tale; but to
render the effect of an infinity of small things, not one
great enough in itself to be narrated ; and to translate
the story of looks, and the message of voices when
they are saying no great matter; and to put in half a
page the essence of near eighteen months : this is what
I despair to accomplish. The fault, to be very blunt,
lay all in Mrs. Henry. She felt it a merit to have con-

25

THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

sented to the marriage, and she took it like a martyr-
dom; in which my old lord, whether he knew it or
not, fomented her. She made a merit, besides, of her
constancy to the dead ; though its name, to a nicer con-
science, should have seemed rather disloyalty to the
living; and here also my lord gave her his counte-
nance. I suppose he was glad to talk of his loss, and
ashamed to dwell on it with Mr. Henry. Certainly, at
least, he made a little coterie apart in that family of
three, and it was the husband who was shut out. It
seems it was an old custom when the family were alone
in Durrisdeer, that my lord should take his wine to the
chimneyside, and Miss Alison (instead of withdraw-
ing) should bring a stool to his knee and chatter to him
privately ; and after she had become my patron's wife,
the same manner of doing was continued. It should
have been pleasant to behold this ancient gentleman so
loving with his daughter ; but I was too much a parti-
san of Mr. Henry's, to be anything but wroth at his
exclusion. Many's the time I have seen him make an
obvious resolve, quit the table, and go and join himself
to his wife and my Lord Durrisdeer; and on their part,
they were never backward to make him welcome,
turned to him smilingly as to an intruding child, and
took him into their talk with an effort so ill-concealed
that he was soon back again beside me at the table;
whence (so great is the hall of Durrisdeer) we could
but hear the murmur of voices at the chimney. There
he would sit and watch, and I along with him; and
sometimes by my lord's head sorrowfully shaken, or
his hand laid on Mrs. Henry's head, or hers upon his
knee as if in consolation, or sometimes by an exchange

26

SUMMARY OF EVENTS

of tearful looks, we would draw our conclusion that
the talk had gone to the old subject and the shadow of
the dead was in the hall.

I have hours when I blame Mr. Henry for taking all
too patiently ; yet we are to remember he was married
in pity, and accepted his wife upon that term. And
indeed he had small encouragement to make a stand.
Once, I remember, he announced he had found a man
to replace the pane of the stained window ; which, as
it was he that managed all the business, was a thing
clearly within his attributions. But to the Master's fan-
ciers, that pane was like a relic; and on the first word
of any change, the blood flew to Mrs. Henry's face.

" I wonder at you!" she cried.

"I wonder at myself," says Mr. Henry, with more
of bitterness than I had ever heard him to express.

Thereupon my old lord stepped in with his smooth
talk, so that before the meal was at an end all seemed
forgotten; only that, after dinner, when the pair had
withdrawn as usual to the chimneyside, we could see
her weeping with her head upon his knee. Mr. Henry
kept up the talk with me upon some topic of the estates
— he could speak of little else but business, and was
never the best of company ; but he kept it up that day
with more continuity, his eye straying ever and again
to the chimney and his voice changing to another key,
but without check of delivery. The pane, however,
was not replaced; and I believe he counted it a great
defeat.

Whether he was stout enough or no, God knows he
was kind enough. Mrs. Henry had a manner of con-
descension with him, such as (in a wife) would have

27

THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

pricked my vanity into an ulcer; he took it like a
favour. She held him at the staff's end; forgot and
then remembered and unbent to him, as we do to chil-
dren; burthened him with cold kindness; reproved
him with a change of colour and a bitten lip, like one
shamed by his disgrace : ordered him with a look of
the eye, when she was off her guard ; when she was
on the watch, pleaded with him for the most natural
attentions as though they were unheard of favours.
And to all this, he replied with the most unwearied
service ; loving, as folks say, the very ground she trod
on, and carrying that love in his eyes as bright as a
lamp. When Miss Katharine was to be born, nothing
would serve but he must stay in the room behind the
head of the bed. There he sat, as white (they tell me)
as a sheet and the sweat dropping from his brow; and
the handkerchief he had in his hand was crushed into
a little ball no bigger than a musket bullet. Nor could
he bear the sight of Miss Katharine for many a day;
indeed I doubt if he was ever what he should have
been to my young lady ; for the which want of natural
feeling, he was loudly blamed.

Such was the state of this family down to the 7th
April, 1749, when there befell the first of that series of
events which were to break so many hearts and lose so
many lives.

On that day I was sitting in my room a little before
supper, when John Paul burst open the door with no
civility of knocking, and told me there was one below
that wished to speak with the steward ; sneering at the
name of my office.

28

SUMMARY OF EVENTS

I asked what manner of man, and what his name
was; and this disclosed the cause of John's ill humour;
for it appeared the visitor refused to name himself except
to me, a sore affront to the major-domo's consequence.

"Well," said I, smiling a little, "I will see what he
wants."

1 found in the entrance hall a big man very plainly
habited and wrapped in a sea cloak, like one new
landed, as indeed he was. Not far off Macconochie
was standing, with his tongue out of his mouth and
his hand upon his chin, like a dull fellow thinking
hard; and the stranger, who had brought his cloak
about his face, appeared uneasy. He had no sooner
seen me coming than he went to meet me with an
effusive manner.

" My dear man," said he, "a thousand apologies for
disturbing you, but I'm in the most awkward position.
And there's a son of a ramrod there that I should know
the looks of, and more betoken I believe that he knows
mine. Being in this family, sir, and in a place of some
responsibility (which was the cause I took the liberty to
send for you), you are doubtless of the honest party ? "

" You may be sure at least," says I, " that all of that
party are quite safe in Durrisdeer."

"My dear man, it is my very thought," says he.
" You see I have just been set on shore here by a very
honest man, whose name I cannot remember, and who
is to stand off and on for me till morning, at some dan-
ger to himself ; and, to be clear with you, I am a little
concerned lest it should be at some to me. I have saved
my life so often, Mr. — I forget your name, which is
a very good one — that, faith, I would be very loath to

29

THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

lose it after all. And the son of a ramrod, whom I be-
lieve I saw before Carlisle ..."

"O, sir," said I, "you can trust Macconochie until
to-morrow."

" Well, and it's a delight to hear you say so," says the
stranger. ' ' The truth is that my name is not a very
suitable one in this country of Scotland. With a gen-
tleman like you, my dear man, I would have no conceal-
ments of course; and by your leave, I'll just breathe it
in your ear. They call me Francis Burke: Colonel
Francis Burke ; and I am here, at a most damnable risk
to myself, to see your masters — if you'll excuse me, my
good man, for giving them the name, for I'm sure it's a
circumstance I would never have guessed from your ap-
pearance. And if you would be just so very obliging as
to take my name to them, you might say that I come
bearing letters which I am sure they will be very rejoiced
to have the reading of."

Colonel Francis Burke was one of the Prince's Irish-
men, that did his cause such an infinity of hurt and
were so much distasted of the Scots at the time of the
rebellion ; and it came at once into my mind, how the
Master of Ballantrae had astonished all men by going
with that party. In the same moment, a strong fore-
boding of the truth possessed my soul.

" If you will step in here," said I, opening a chamber
door, " I will let my lord know."

" And I am sure it's very good of you, Mr. What is
your name," says the Colonel.

Up to the hall I went, slow footed. There they were
all three, my old lord in his place, Mrs. Henry at work
by the window, Mr. Henry (as was much his custom)

30

SUMMARY OF EVENTS

pacing the low end. In the midst was the table laid
for supper. 1 told them briefly what I had to say. My
old lord lay back in his seat. Mrs. Henry sprang up
standing with a mechanical motion, and she and her
husband stared at each other's eyes across the room ; it
was the strangest, challenging look these two exchanged,
and as they looked, the colour faded in their faces.
Then Mr. Henry turned to me; not to speak, only to
sign with his finger; but that was enough, and I went
down again for the Colonel.

When we returned, these three were in much the
same position I had left them in ; 1 believe no word had
passed.

"My lord Durrisdeer no doubt?" says the Colonel,
bowing, and my lord bowed in answer. "And this,"
continues the Colonel, "should be the Master of Bal-
lantrae?"

"I have never taken that name," said Mr. Henry;
"but I am Henry Durie at your service."

Then the Colonel turns to Mrs. Henry, bowing with
his hat upon his heart and the most killing airs of gal-
lantry. "There can be no mistake about so fine a
figure of a lady," says he. "I address the seductive
Miss Alison, of whom I have so often heard ? "

Once more husband and wife exchanged a look.

" I am Mrs. Henry Durie," said she; "but before my
marriage my name was Alison Graeme."

Then my lord spoke up. " I am an old man, Colonel
Burke," said he, "and a frail one. It will be mercy on
your part to be expeditious. Do you bring me news
of — " he hesitated, and then the words broke from him
with a singular change of voice — "my son?"

3'

THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

"My dear lord, I will be round with you like a sol-
dier," said the Colonel. " I do."

My lord held out a wavering hand; he seemed to
wave a signal, but whether it was to give him time or
to speak on, was more than we could guess. At
length, he got out the one word — "Good?"

" Why, the very best in the creation! " cries the Col-
onel. "For my good friend and admired comrade is
at this hour in the fine city of Paris, and as like as not,
if I know anything of his habits, he will be drawing in
his chair to a piece of dinner. — Bedad, I believe the
lady's fainting."

Mrs. Henry was indeed the colour of death, and
drooped against the window frame. But when Mr.
Henry made a movement as if to run to her, she
straightened with a sort of shiver. "I am well," she
said, with her white lips.

Mr. Henry stopped, and his face had a strong twitch
of anger. The next moment, he had turned to the Col-
onel. "You must not blame yourself," says he, "for
this effect on Mrs. Durie. It is only natural ; we were
all brought up like brother and sister."

Mrs. Henry looked at her husband with something like
relief or even gratitude. In my way of thinking, that
speech was the first step he made in her good graces.

"You must try to forgive me, Mrs. Durie, for indeed
and I am just an Irish savage," said the Colonel: "and
I deserve to be shot for not breaking the matter more
artistically to a lady. But here are the Master's own
letters ; one for each of the three of you ; and to be sure
(if I know anything of my friend's genius) he will tell
his own story with a better grace."

32

SUMMARY OF EVENTS

He brought the three letters forth as he spoke, ar-
ranged them by their superscriptions, presented the first
to my lord who took it greedily, and advanced towards
Mrs. Henry holding out the second.

But the lady waved it back. "To my husband," says
she, with a choked voice.

The Colonel was a quick man, but at this he was some-
what non-plussed. " To be sure," says he, " how very
dull of me! To be sure." But he still held the letter.

At last Mr. Henry reached forth his hand, and there
was nothing to be done but give it up. Mr. Henry took
the letters (both hers and his own) and looked upon
their outside, with his brows knit hard as if he were
thinking. He had surprised me all through by his ex-
cellent behaviour; but he was to excel himself now.

' ' Let me give you a hand to your room, " said he to his
wife. ' ' This has come something of the suddenest ; and
at any rate, you will wish to read your letter by yourself. "

Again she looked upon him with the same thought of
wonder; but he gave her no time, coming straight to
where she stood. "It will be better so, believe me,"
said he, " and Colonel Burke is too considerate not to
excuse you." And with that he took her hand by the
fingers, and led her from the hall.

Mrs. Henry returned no more that night; and when
Mr. Henry went to visit her next morning, as I heard
long afterwards, she gave him the letter again, still
unopened.

"O, read it and be done! " he had cried.

" Spare me that," said she.

And by these two speeches, to my way of thinking,
each undid a great part of what they had previously

33

THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

done well. But the letter, sure enough, came into my
hands and by me was burned, unopened.

To be very exact as to the adventures of the Master
after Culloden, I wrote not long ago to Colonel Burke,
now a Chevalier of the Order of St. Louis, begging him
for some notes in writing, since I could scarce depend
upon my memory at so great an interval. To confess
the truth, I have been somewhat embarrassed by his re-
sponse; for he sent me the complete memoirs of his life,
touching only in places on the Master; running to a
much greater length than my whole story, and not
everywhere (as it seems to me) designed for edification.
He begged in his letter, dated from Ettenheim, that I
would find a publisher for the whole, after I had made
what use of it I required ; and I think I shall best an-
swer my own purpose and fulfil his wishes by printing
certain parts of it in full. In this way my readers will
have a detailed and I believe a very genuine account
of some essential matters ; and if any publisher should
take a fancy to the Chevalier's manner of narration, he
knows where to apply for the rest, of which there is
plenty at his service. I put in my first extract here, so
that it may stand in the place of what the Chevalier told
us over our wine in the hall of Durrisdeer; but you are
to suppose it was not the brutal fact, but a very var-
nished version that he offered to my lord.

THE MASTER'S WANDERINGS

From the Memoirs of the Chevalier de Burke

.... I LEFT Ruthven (it's hardly necessary to
remark) with much greater satisfaction than I had come
to it; but whether I missed my way in the deserts, or
whether my companions failed me, I soon found myself
alone. This was a predicament very disagreeable ; for I
never understood this horrid country or savage people,
and the last stroke of the Prince's withdrawal had made
us of the Irish more unpopular than ever. I was re-
flecting on my poor chances, when I saw another horse-
man on the hill, whom I supposed at first to have been
a phantom, the news of his death in the very front at
Culloden being current in the army generally. This
was the Master of Ballantrae, my Lord Durrisdeer's son,
a young nobleman of the rarest gallantry and parts, and
equally designed by nature to adorn a court and to reap
laurels in the field. Our meeting was the more welcome
to both, as he was one of the few Scots who had used
the Irish with consideration and as he might now be
of very high utility in aiding my escape. Yet what
founded our particular friendship was a circumstance by
itself, as romantic as any fable of King Arthur.

This was on the second day of our flight, after we
had slept one night in the rain upon the inclination of a

35

THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

mountain. There was an Appin man, Alan Black Stew-
art (or some such name,* but I have seen him since in
France) who chanced to be passing the same way, and
had a jealousy of my companion. Very uncivil ex-
pressions were exchanged ; and Stewart calls upon the
Master to alight and have it out.

"Why, Mr. Stewart," says the Master, "I think at
the present time, I would prefer to run a race with
you." And with the word claps spurs to his horse.

Stewart ran after us, a childish thing to do, for more
than a mile ; and I could not help laughing, as I looked
back at last and saw him on a hill, holding his hand to
his side and nearly burst with running.

"But all the same," I could not help saying to my
companion, " I would let no man run after me for any
such proper purpose, and not give him his desire. It
was a good jest, but it smells a trifle cowardly."

He bent his brows at me. " I do pretty well," says
he, "when I saddle myself with the most unpopular
man in Scotland, and let that suffice for courage."

"O, bedad," says I, "I could show you a more un-
popular with the naked eye. And if you like not my
company, you can 'saddle' yourself on some one else."

"Colonel Burke," says he, "do not let us quarrel;
and to that effect, let me assure you I am the least
patient man in the world."

"I am as little patient as yourself," said I. "I care
not who knows that."

"At this rate," says he, reining in, "we shall not go

* Note fy> Mr. Mackellar: Should not this be Alan Breck Stewart,
afterwards notorious as the Appin murderer ? The Chevalier is some-
times very weak on names.

36

THE MASTER'S WANDERINGS

very far. And I propose we do one of two things upon
the instant: either quarrel and be done; or make a
sure bargain to bear everything at each other's hands."

" Like a pair of brothers ? " said I.

" I said no such foolishness," he replied. " I have a
brother of my own, and I think no more of him than
of a colewort. But if we are to have our noses rubbed
together in this course of flight, let us each dare to
be ourselves like savages, and each swear that he will
neither resent nor deprecate the other. I am a pretty
bad fellow at bottom, and I find the pretence of virtues
very irksome."

"O, I am as bad as yourself," said I. "There is no
skim milk in Francis Burke. But which is it to be ?
Fight or make friends ? "

"Why," says he, "I think it will be the best manner
to spin a coin for it."

This proposition was too highly chivalrous not to
take my fancy ; and strange as it may seem of two well-
born gentlemen of to-day, we span a half-crown (like a
pair of ancient paladins) whether we were to cut each
other's throats or be sworn friends. A more romantic
circumstance can rarely have occurred ; and it is one of
those points in my memoirs, by which we may see the
old tales of Homer and the poets are equally true to-day,
at least of the noble and genteel. The coin fell for
peace, and we shook hands upon our bargain. And then
it was that my companion explained to me his thought
in running away from Mr. Stewart, which was certainly
worthy of his political intellect. The report of his
death, he said, was a great guard to him ; Mr. Stewart
having recognized him, had become a danger; and he

37

THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

had taken the briefest road to that gentleman's silence.
" For," says he, " Alan Black is too vain a man to nar-
rate any such story of himself."

Towards afternoon, we came down to the shores of
that loch for which we were heading; and there was
the ship but newly come to anchor. She was the
Sainte-Marie-des-Anges, out of the port of Havre-de-
Grace. The Master, after we had signalled for a boat,
asked me if I knew the captain. I told him he was a
countryman of mine, of the most unblemished integrity,
but, I was afraid, a rather timorous man.

"No matter," says he. "For all that, he should
certainly hear the truth."

I asked him if he meant about the battle ? for if the
captain once knew the standard was down, he would
certainly put to sea again at once.

"And even then!" said he; "the arms are now of
no sort of utility."

" My dear man," said I, "who thinks of the arms ?
But to be sure we must remember our friends. They
will be close upon our heels, perhaps the Prince him-
self, and if the ship be gone, a great number of valuable
lives may be imperilled."

"The captain and the crew have lives also, if you
come to that," says Ballantrae.

This I declared was but a quibble, and that I would
not hear of the captain being told : and then it was that
Ballantrae made me a witty answer for the sake of
which (and also because I have been blamed myself in
this business of the Sainte-Marie-des-Anges) I have re-
lated the whole conversation as it passed.

" Frank," says he, " remember our bargain. I must
38

THE MASTER'S WANDERINGS

not object to your holding your tongue, which I hereby
even encourage you to do ; but by the same terms, you
are not to resent my telling."

1 could not help laughing at this ; though I still fore-
warned him what would come of it.

"The devil may come of it for what I care," says the
reckless fellow. " I have always done exactly as I felt
inclined."

As is well known my prediction came true. The
captain had no sooner heard the news, than he cut his
cable and to sea again ; and before morning broke, we
were in the Great Minch.

The ship was very old ; and the skipper although the
most honest of men (and Irish too) was one of the least
capable. The wind blew very boisterous, and the
sea raged extremely. All that day we had little heart
whether to eat or drink; went early to rest in some
concern of mind ; and (as if to give us a lesson) in the
night, the wind chopped suddenly into the northeast,
and blew a hurricane. We were awaked by the dread-
ful thunder of the tempest and the stamping of the
mariners on deck ; so that I supposed our last hour was
certainly come; and the terror of my mind was in-
creased out of all measure by Ballantrae, who mocked
at my devotions. It is in hours like these that a man
of any piety appears in his true light, and we find
(what we are taught as babes) the small trust that can
be set in worldly friends : I would be unworthy of my
religion, if I let this pass without particular remark.
For three days we lay in the dark in the cabin, and had
but a biscuit to nibble. On the fourth, the wind fell,
leaving the ship dismasted and heaving on vast billows.

39

THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

The captain had not a guess of whither we were blown;
he was stark ignorant of his trade, and could do naught
but bless the Holy Virgin: a very good thing too, but
scarce the whole of seamanship. It seemed our one
hope was to be picked up by another vessel ; and if
that should prove to be an English ship, it might be no
great blessing to the Master and myself.

The fifth and sixth days we tossed there helpless. The
seventh, some sail was got on her, but she was an un-
wieldy vessel at the best, and we made little but leeway.
All the time, indeed, we had been drifting to the south
and west, and during the tempest must have driven
in that direction with unheard-of violence. The ninth
dawn was cold and black, with a great sea running, and
every mark of foul weather. In this situation, we were
overjoyed to sight a small ship on the horizon, and to
perceive her go about and head for the Sainte-Marie.
But our gratification did not very long endure ; for when
she had laid to and lowered a boat, it was immediately
filled with disorderly fellows, who sang and shouted as
they pulled across to us, and swarmed in on our deck
with bare cutlasses, cursing loudly. Their leader was a
horrible villain, with his face blacked and his whiskers
curled in ringlets : Teach, his name ; a most notorious
pirate. He stamped about the deck, raving and crying
out that his name was Satan and his ship was called
Hell. There was something about him like a wicked
child or a half-witted person, that daunted me beyond
expression. I whispered in the ear of Ballantrae, that I
would not be the last to volunteer and only prayed God
they might be short of hands : he approved my purpose
with a nod.

40

THE MASTER'S WANDERINGS

"Bedad," said I, to Master Teach, " if you are Satan,
here is a divil for ye."

The word pleased him ; and (not to dwell upon these
shocking incidents) Ballantrae and I and two others
were taken for recruits, while the skipper and all the
rest were cast into the sea by the method of walking the
plank. It was the first time I had seen this done ; my
heart died within me at the spectacle ; and Master Teach
or one of his acolytes (for my head was too much lost to
be precise) remarked upon my pale face in a very alarm-
ing manner. I had the strength to cut a step or two of a
jig and cry out some ribaldry, which saved me for that
time; but my legs were like water when I must get
down into the skiff among these miscreants ; and what
with my horror of my company and fear of the monstrous
billows, it was all I could do to keep an Irish tongue
and break a jest or two as we were pulled aboard. By
the blessing of God, there was a fiddle in the pirate ship,
which I had no sooner seen than I fell upon ; and in my
quality of crowder, I had the heavenly good luck to get
favour in their eyes. Crowding Pat, was the name they
dubbed me with ; and it was little I cared for a name so
long as my skin was whole.

What kind of a pandemonium that vessel was, I
cannot describe, but she was commanded by a lunatic,
and might be called a floating Bedlam. Drinking, roar-
ing, singing, quarreling, dancing, they were never all
sober at one time; and there were days together, when
if a squall had supervened, it must have sent us to the
bottom, or if a king's ship had come along, it would
have found us quite helpless for defence. Once or
twice, we sighted a sail, and if we were sober enough,

41

THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

overhauled it, God forgive us ! and if we were all too
drunk, she got away, and I would bless the saints un-
der my breath. Teach ruled, if you can call that rule
which brought no order, by the terror he created ; and
I observed the man was very vain of his position. I
have known marshals of France, ay, and even High-
land chieftains that were less openly puffed up; which
throws a singular light on the pursuit of honour and
glory. Indeed the longer we live, the more we per-
ceive the sagacity of Aristotle and the other old philoso-
phers; and though I have all my life been eager for
legitimate distinctions, I can lay my hand upon my
heart, at the end of my career, and declare there is not
one — no, nor yet life itself — which is worth acquiring
or preserving at the slightest cost of dignity.

It was long before I got private speech of Ballantrae;
but at length one night we crept out upon the bolt-
sprit, when the rest were better employed, and com-
miserated our position.

"None can deliver us but the saints," said I.

"My mind is very different," said Ballantrae; "for I
am going to deliver myself. This Teach is the poorest
creature possible; we make no profit of him and lie
continually open to capture; and," says he, "I am not
going to be a tarry pirate for nothing, nor yet to hang in
chains if I can help it." And he told me what was in
his mind to better the state of the ship in the way of
discipline, which would give us safety for the present,
and a sooner hope of deliverance when they should
have gained enough and should break up their com-
pany.

I confessed to him ingenuously that my nerve was
42

THE MASTER'S WANDERINGS

quite shook amid these horrible surroundings, and I
durst scarce tell him to count upon me.

" I am not very easy frightened," said he, " nor very
easy beat."

A few days after, there befell an accident which had
nearly hanged us all ; and offers the most extraordinary
picture of the folly that ruled in our concerns. We were
all pretty drunk : and some bedlamite spying a sail, Teach
put the ship about in chase without a glance, and we be-
gan to bustle up the arms and boast of the horrors that
should follow. I observed Ballantrae stood quiet in the
bows, looking under the shade of his hand; but for my
part, true to my policy among these savages, I was at
work with the busiest and passing Irish jests for their
diversion.

" Run up the colours," cries Teach. " Show the s

the Jolly Roger ! "

It was the merest drunken braggadocio at such a stage,
and might have lost us a valuable prize ; but I thought
it no part of mine to reason, and I ran up the black flag
with my own hand.

Ballantrae steps presently aft with a smile upon his
face.

" You may perhaps like to know, you drunken dog,"
says he, "that you are chasing a king's ship."

Teach roared him the lie ; but he ran at the same time
to the bulwarks, and so did they all. I have never seen
so many drunken men struck suddenly sober. The
cruiser had gone about, upon our impudent display of
colours ; she was just then filling on the new tack ; her
ensign blew out quite plain to see; and even as we
stared, there came a puff of smoke, and then a report,

43

THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

and a shot plunged in the waves a good way short of
us. Some ran to the ropes, and got the Sarah round
with an incredible swiftness. One fellow fell on the
rum barrel, which stood broached upon the deck, and
rolled it promptly overboard. On my part, I made for
the Jolly Roger, struck it, tossed it in the sea; and could
have flung myself after, so vexed was I with our mis-
management. As for Teach, he grew as pale as death,
and incontinently went down to his cabin. Only twice
he came on deck that afternoon ; went to the taffrail ;
took a long look at the king's ship, which was still on
the horizon heading after us ; and then, without speech,
back to his cabin. You may say he deserted us ; and if
it had not been for one very capable sailor we had on
board, and for the lightness of the airs that blew all day,
we must certainly have gone to the yard-arm.

It is to be supposed Teach was humiliated, and per-
haps alarmed for his position with the crew; and the
way in which he set about regaining what he had lost,
was highly characteristic of the man. Early next day,
we smelled him burning sulphur in his cabin and crying
out of " Hell, hell ! " which was well understood among
the crew, and filled their minds with apprehension,
Presently he comes on deck, a perfect figure of fun, his
face blacked, his hair and whiskers curled, his belt stuck
full of pistols; chewing bits of glass so that the blood ran
down his chin, and brandishing a dirk. I do not know
if he had taken these manners from the Indians of Amer-
ica, where he was a native ; but such was his way, and
he would always thus announce that he was wound up
to horrid deeds. The first that came near him was the
fellow who had sent the rum overboard the day before;

44

THE MASTER'S WANDERINGS

him he stabbed to the heart, damning him for a mu-
tineer; and then capered about the body, raving and
swearing and daring us to come on. It was the silliest
exhibition ; and yet dangerous too, for the cowardly fel-
low was plainly working himself up to another murder.

All of a sudden, Ballantrae stepped forth. "Have
done with this play-acting," says he. "Do you think
to frighten us with making faces ? We saw nothing
of you yesterday when you were wanted ; and we did
well without you, let me tell you that."

There was a murmur and a movement in the crew,
of pleasure and alarm, I thought, in nearly equal parts.
As for Teach, he gave a barbarous howl, and swung
his dirk to fling it, an art in which (like many seamen)
he was very expert.

"Knock that out of his hand!" says Ballantrae, so
sudden and sharp that my arm obeyed him before my
mind had understood.

Teach stood like one stupid, never thinking on his
pistols.

"Go down to your cabin," cries Ballantrae, "and
come on deck again when you are sober. Do you
think we are going to hang for you, you black-faced,
half-witted, drunken brute and butcher ? Go down ! "
And he stamped his foot at him with such a sudden
smartness that Teach fairly ran for it to the companion.

"And now, mates," says Ballantrae, "a word with
you. I don't know if you are gentlemen of fortune
for the fun of the thing; but I am not. I want to
make money, and get ashore again, and spend it like a
man. And on one thing my mind is made up: I will
not hang if I can help it. Come: give me a hint; I'm

45

THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

only a beginner! Is there no way to get a little disci-
pline and common sense about this business ?"

One of the men spoke up : he said by rights they
should have a quartermaster; and no sooner was the
word out of his mouth, than they were all of that
opinion. The thing went by acclamation, Ballantrae
was made quartermaster, the rum was put in his
charge, laws were passed in imitation of those of a
pirate by the name of Roberts ; and, the last proposal
was to make an end of Teach. But Ballantrae was
afraid of a more efficient captain, who might be a coun-
terweight to himself, and he opposed this stoutly.
Teach, he said, was good enough to board ships and
frighten fools with his blacked face and swearing; we
could scarce get a better man than Teach for that; and
besides as the man was now disconsidered and as good
as deposed, we might reduce his proportion of the
plunder. This carried it; Teach's share was cut down
to a mere derision, being actually less than mine; and
there remained only two points : whether he would con-
sent, and who was to announce to him this resolution.

"Do not let that stick you," says Ballantrae, "I will
do that."

And he stepped to the companion and down alone into
the cabin to face that drunken savage.

"This is the man for us," cries one of the hands.
"Three cheers for the quartermaster!" which were
given with a will, my own voice among the loudest, and
I dare say these plaudits had their effect on Master
Teach in the cabin, as we have seen of late days how
shouting in the streets may trouble even the minds of
legislators.

46

THE MASTER'S WANDERINGS

What passed precisely was never known, though some
of the heads of it came to the surface later on ; and we
were all amazed as well as- gratified, when Ballantrae
came on deck with Teach upon his arm, and announced
that all had been consented.

I pass swiftly over those twelve or fifteen months in
which we continued to keep the sea in the North Atlan-
tic, getting our food and water from the ships we over-
hauled and doing on the whole a pretty fortunate busi-
ness. Sure no one could wish to read anything so
ungenteel as the memoirs of a pirate, even an unwilling
one like me! Things went extremely better with our
designs, and Ballantrae kept his lead to my admiration
from that day forth. I would be tempted to suppose
that a gentleman must everywhere be first, even aboard
a rover; but my birth is every whit as good as
any Scottish lord's, and I am not ashamed to confess
that I stayed Crowding Pat until the end, and was not
much better than the crew's buffoon. Indeed it was
no scene to bring out my merits. My health suffered
from a variety of reasons ; I was more at home to the
last on a horse's back than a ship's deck; and to be
ingenuous, the fear of the sea was constantly in my
mind, battling with the fear of my companions. I need
not cry myself up for courage; I have done well on
many fields under the eyes of famous generals, and
earned my late advancement by an act of the most dis-
tinguished valour before many witnesses. But when
we must proceed on one of our abordages, the heart of
Francis Burke was in his boots; the little egg-shell skiff
in which we must set forth, the horrible heaving of the
vast billows, the height of the ship that we must scale,

47

THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

the thought of how many might be there in garrison
upon their legitimate defence, the scowling heavens
which (in that climate) so often looked darkly down
upon our exploits, and the mere crying of the wind in
my ears, were all considerations most unpalatable to my
valour. Besides which, as I was always a creature of
the nicest sensibility, the scenes that must follow on
our success tempted me as little as the chances of defeat.
Twice we found women on board; and though I have
seen towns sacked, and of late days in France some
very horrid public tumults, there was something in
the smallness of the numbers engaged and the bleak,
dangerous sea-surroundings that made these acts of
piracy far the most revolting. I confess ingenuously
I could never proceed, unless I was three parts drunk ;
it was the same even with the crew; Teach himself
was fit for no enterprise till he was full of rum ; and it
was one of the most difficult parts of Ballantrae's per-
formance, to serve us with liquor in the proper quan-
tities. Even this he did to admiration; being upon
the whole the most capable man I ever met with, and
the one of the most natural genius. He did not even
scrape favour with the crew, as I did, by continual buf-
foonery made upon a very anxious heart; but preserved
on most occasions a great deal of gravity and distance;
so that he was like a parent among a family of young
children or a schoolmaster with his boys. What made
his part the harder to perform, the men were most
inveterate grumblers; Ballantrae's discipline, little as
it was, was yet irksome to their love of license; and
what was worse, being kept sober they had time to
think. Some of them accordingly would fall to repent-

48

THE MASTER'S WANDERINGS

ing their abominable crimes; one in particular, who
was a good Catholic and with whom I would sometimes
steal apart for prayer; above all in bad weather, fogs,
lashing rain and the like, when we would be the less
observed; and I am sure no two criminals in the cart
have ever performed their devotions with more anx-
ious sincerity. But the rest having no such grounds
of hope, fell to another pastime, that of computation.
All day long they would be telling up their shares or
glooming over the result. I have said we were pretty
fortunate. But an observation fails to be made: that
in this world, in no business that I have tried, do the
profits rise to a man's expectations. We found many
ships and took many ; yet few of them contained much
money, their goods were usually nothing to our pur-
pose — what did we want with a cargo of ploughs or
even of tobacco? — and it is quite a painful reflection
how many whole crews we have made to walk the
plank for no more than a stock of biscuit or an anker
or two of spirit.

In the meanwhile, our ship was growing very foul,
and it was high time we should make for our port de
carrenage, which was in the estuary of a river among
swamps. It was openly understood, that we should
then break up and go and squander our proportions of
the spoil; and this made every man greedy of a little
more, so that our decision was delayed from day to
day. What finally decided matters, was a trifling acci-
dent, such as an ignorant person might suppose inci-
dental to our way of life. But here I must explain : on
only one of all the ships we boarded, the first on which
we found women, did we meet with any genuine re-

49

THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

sistance. On that occasion, we had two men killed,
and several injured, and if it had not been for the gal-
lantry of Ballantrae, we had surely been beat back at
last. Everywhere else, the defence (where there was
any at all) was what the worst troops in Europe would
have laughed at; so that the most dangerous part of
our employment was to clamber up the side of the ship ;
and I have even known the poor souls on board to cast
us a line, so eager were they to volunteer instead of
walking the plank. This constant immunity had made
our fellows very soft, so that I understood how Teach
had made so deep a mark upon their minds ; for indeed
the company of that lunatic was the chief danger in our
way of life. The accident to which I have referred was
this. We had sighted a little full-rigged ship very
close under our board in a haze; she sailed near as well
as we did — I should be nearer truth, if I said near as
ill ; and we cleared the bow-chaser to see if we could
bring a spar or two about their ears. The swell was
exceeding great ; the motion of the ship beyond descrip-
tion; it was little wonder if our gunners should fire
thrice and be still quite broad of what they aimed at.
But in the meanwhile, the chase had cleared a stern
gun, the thickness of the air concealing them ; and be-
ing better marksmen, their first shot struck us in the
bows, knocked our two gunners into mince meat, so
that we were all sprinkled with the blood, and plunged
through the deck into the fore castle, where we slept.
Ballantrae would have held on ; indeed there was noth-
ing in this contretemps to affect the mind of any soldier;
but he had a quick perception of the men's wishes, and
it was plain this lucky shot had given them a sickener

50

THE MASTER'S WANDERINGS

of their trade. In a moment, they were all of one mind :
the chase was drawing away from us, it was needless
to hold on, the Sarah was too foul to overhaul a bottle,
it was mere foolery to keep the sea with her; and on
these pretended grounds, her head was incontinently
put about and the course laid for the river. It was
strange to see what merriment fell on that ship's com-
pany, and how they stamped about the deck jesting,
and each computing what increase had come to his
share by the death of the two gunners.

We were nine days making our port, so light were
the airs we had to sail on, so foul the ship's bottom;
but early on the tenth, before dawn, and in a light,
lifting haze, we passed the head. A little after, the
haze lifted, and fell again, showing us a cruiser very
close. This was a sore blow, happening so near our
refuge. There was a great debate of whether she had
seen us, and if so whether it was likely they had recog-
nized the Sarah. We were very careful, by destroying
every member of those crews we overhauled, to leave
no evidence as to our own persons; but the appearance
of the Sarah herself we could not keep so private ; and
above all of late, since she had been foul and we had
pursued many ships without success, it was plain that
her description had been often published. I supposed
this alert would have made us separate upon the in-
stant. But here again that original genius of Ballantrae's
had a surprise in store for me. He and Teach (and it
was the most remarkable step of his success) had gone
hand in hand since the first day of his appointment. I
often questioned him upon the fact and never got an
answer but once, when he told me he and Teach had

51

THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

an understanding "which would very much surprise
the crew if they should hear of it, and would surprise
himself a good deal if it was carried out." Well, here
again, he and Teach were of a mind ; and by their joint
procurement, the anchor was no sooner down, than
the whole crew went off upon a scene of drunkenness
indescribable. By afternoon we were a mere shipful
of lunatical persons, throwing of things overboard,
howling of different songs at the same time, quarrelling
and falling together and then forgetting our quarrels to
embrace. Ballantrae had bidden me drink nothing and
feign drunkenness as I valued my life ; and I have never
passed a day so wearisomely, lying the best part of the
time upon the fore castle and watching the swamps and
thickets by which our little basin was entirely sur-
rounded for the eye. A little after dusk, Ballantrae
stumbled up to my side, feigned to fall, with a drunken
laugh, and before he got his feet again, whispered me
to "reel down into the cabin and seem to fall asleep
upon a locker, for there would be need of me soon." I
did as I was told, and coming into the cabin, where it
was quite dark, let myself fall on the first locker. There
was a man there already; by the way he stirred and
threw me off, I could not think he was much in liquor;
and yet when I had found another place, he seemed to
continue to sleep on. My heart now beat very hard,
for I saw some desperate matter was in act. Presently
down came Ballantrae, lit the lamp, looked about the
cabin, nodded as if pleased, and on deck again without
a word. I peered out from between my fingers, and
saw there were three of us slumbering, or feigning to
slumber, on the lockers: myself, one Dutton and one

52

THE MASTER'S WANDERINGS

Grady, both resolute men. On deck, the rest were got
to a pitch of revelry quite beyond the bounds of what
is human ; so that no reasonable name can describe the
sounds they were now making. I have heard many a
drunken bout in my time, many on board that very Sarah,
but never anything the least like this, which made me
early suppose the liquor had been tampered with. It
was a long while before these yells and howls died out
into a sort of miserable moaning, and then to silence;
and it seemed a long while after that, before Ballantrae
came down again, this time with Teach upon his heels.
The latter cursed at the sight of us three upon the lockers.

"Tut," says Ballantrae, "you might fire a pistol at
their ears. You know what stuff they have been swal-
lowing."

There was a hatch in the cabin floor, and under that
the richest part of the booty was stored against the day of
division. It fastened with a ring and three padlocks, the
keys (for greater security) being divided ; one to Teach,
one to Ballantrae, and one to the mate, a man called
Hammond. Yet I was amazed to see they were now
all in the one hand ; and yet more amazed (still looking
through my fingers) to observe Ballantrae and Teach
bring up several packets, four of them in all, very care-
fully made up and with a loop for carriage.

"And now," says Teach, "let us be going."

"One word," says Ballantrae, "I have discovered
there is another man besides yourself who knows a pri-
vate path across the swamp. And it seems it is shorter
than yours."

Teach cried out, in that case, they were undone.

"I do not know for that," says Ballantrae. "For
53

THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

there are several other circumstances with which I must
acquaint you. First of all, there is no bullet in your
pistols which (if you remember) I was kind enough to
load for both of us this morning. Secondly, as there is
some one else who knows a passage, you must think it
highly improbable I should saddle myself with a lunatic
like you. Thirdly, these gentlemen (who need no longer
pretend to be asleep) are those of my party, and will
now proceed to gag and bind you to the mast; and when
your men awaken (if they ever do awake after the drugs
we have mingled in their liquor) I am sure they will be
so obliging as to deliver you, and you will have no diffi-
culty, I daresay, to explain the business of the keys."

Not a word said Teach, but looked at us like a fright-
ened baby, as we gagged and bound him.

"Now you see, you moon-calf," says Ballantrae, "why
we made four packets. Heretofore you have been called
Captain Teach, but I think you are now rather Captain
Learn."

That was our last word on board the Sarah, we four
with our four packets lowered ourselves softly into a skiff,
and left that ship behind us as silent as the grave, only
for the moaning of some of the drunkards. There was
a fog about breast-high on the waters ; so that Dutton,
who knew the passage, must stand on his feet to direct
our rowing; and this, as it forced us to row gently, was
the means of our deliverance. We were yet but a little
way from the ship, when it began to come gray, and the
birds to fly abroad upon the water. All of a sudden,
Dutton clapped down upon his hams, and whispered us
to be silent for our lives, and hearken. Sure enough,
we heard a little faint creak of oars upon one hand, and

54

THE MASTER'S WANDERINGS

then again, and further off, a creak of oars upon the
other. It was clear, we had been sighted yesterday in
the morning; here were the cruiser's boats to cut us
out ; here were we defenceless in their very midst. Sure,
never were poor souls more perilously placed ; and as we
lay there on our oars, praying God the mist might hold,
the sweat poured from my brow. Presently we heard
one of the boats, where we might have thrown a biscuit in
her. "Softly, men," we heard an officer whisper; and I
marvelled they could not hear the drumming of my heart.

"Never mind the path," says Ballantrae, "we must
get shelter anyhow; let us pull straight ahead for the
sides of the basin."

This we did with the most anxious precaution, row-
ing, as best we could, upon our hands, and steering at
a venture in the fog which was (for all that) our only
safety. But heaven guided us; we touched ground at
a thicket ; scrambled ashore with our treasure ; and hav-
ing no other way of concealment, and the mist begin-
ning already to lighten, hove down the skiff and let her
sink. We were still but new under cover when the sun
rose ; and at the same time, from the midst of the basin,
a great shouting of seamen sprang up, and we knew
the Sarah was being boarded. I heard afterwards the
officer that took her got great honour; and it's true the
approach was creditably managed, but I think he had
an easy capture when he came to board.*

* Note fy> Mr. Mackellar. This Teach of the Sarah must not be
confused with the celebrated Blackbeard. The dates and facts by no
means tally. It is possible the second Teach may have at once bor-
rowed the name and imitated the more excessive part of his manner*
from the first. Even the Master of Ballantrae could make admirers.

55

THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

I was still blessing the saints for my escape; when I
became aware we were in trouble of another kind. We
were here landed at random in a vast and dangerous
swamp; and how to come at the path was a concern
of doubt, fatigue and peril. Dutton, indeed, was of
opinion we should wait until the ship was gone, and
fish up the skiff; for any delay would be more wise
than to go blindly ahead in that morass. One went
back accordingly to the basin-side and (peering through
the thicket) saw the fog already quite drunk up and
English colours flying on the Sarah, but no movement
made to get her under way. Our situation was now
very doubtful. The swamp was an unhealthful place
to linger in ; we had been so greedy to bring treasures
that we had brought but little food ; it was highly de-
sirable, besides, that we should get clear of the neigh-
bourhood and into the settlements, before the news of
the capture went abroad; and against all these con-
siderations, there was only the peril of the passage on
the other side. I think it not wonderful we decided
on the active part.

It was already blistering hot, when we set forth to
pass the marsh, or rather to strike the path, by compass.
Dutton took the compass, and one or other of us three
carried his proportion of the treasure ; I promise you he
kept a sharp eye to his rear, for it was like the man's
soul that he must trust us with. The thicket was as
close as a bush; the ground very treacherous, so that
we often sank in the most terrifying manner, and must
go round about; the heat, besides, was stifling, the air
singularly heavy, and the stinging insects abounded in
such myriads that each of us walked under his own

56

THE MASTER'S WANDERINGS

cloud. It has often been commented on, how much
better gentlemen of birth endure fatigue than persons of
the rabble ; so that walking officers, who must tramp
in the dirt beside their men, shame them by their con-
stancy. This was well to be observed in the present in-
stance; for here were Ballantrae and I, two gentlemen
of the highest breeding, on the one hand; and on the
other, Grady, a common mariner, and a man nearly a
giant in physical strength. The case of Dutton is not
in point for I confess he did as well as any of us.* But
as for Grady he began early to lament his case, tailed in
the rear, refused to carry Dutton's packet when it came
his turn, clamoured continually for rum (of which we
had too little) and at last even threatened us from be-
hind with a cocked pistol, unless we should allow him
rest. Ballantrae would have fought it out, I believe ; but
I prevailed with him the other way ; and we made a stop
and ate a meal. It seemed to benefit Grady little; he
was in the rear again at once, growling and bemoaning
his lot; and at last, by some carelessness, not having
followed properly in our tracks, stumbled into a deep
part of the slough where it was mostly water, gave some
very dreadful screams, and before we could come to his
aid, had sunk along with his booty. His fate and above
all these screams of his appalled us to the soul ; yet it
was on the whole a fortunate circumstance and the
means of our deliverance. For it moved Dutton to
mount into a tree, whence he was able to perceive and
to show me, who had climbed after him, a high piece

* Note by Mr. Mackellar : And is not this the whole explanation ?
since this Dutton, exactly like the officers, enjoyed the stimulus of some
responsibility.

57

THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

of the wood which was a landmark for the path. He
went forward the more carelessly, I must suppose; for
presently we saw him sink a little down, draw up his
feet and sink again, and so twice. Then he turned his
face to us, pretty white.

"Lend a hand," said he, "I am in a bad place."

" I don't know about that," says Ballantrae, standing
still.

Dutton broke out into the most violent oaths, sinking
a little lower as he did, so that the mud was nearly to
his waist; and plucking a pistol from his belt, "Help
me," he cries, "or die and be damned to you! "

"Nay," says Ballantrae, " I did but jest. I am com-
ing." And he set down his own packet and Button's,
which he was then carrying. "Do not venture near
till we see if you are needed," said he to me, and went
forward alone to where the man was bogged. He was
quiet now, though he still held the pistol; and the
marks of terror in his countenance were very moving
to behold.

"For the Lord's sake," says he, "look sharp."

Ballantrae was now got close up. " Keep still," says
he and seemed to consider; and then " Reach out both
your hands ! "

Dutton laid down his pistol, and so watery was the
top surface, that it went clear out of sight; with an
oath, he stooped to snatch it; and as he did so, Ballan-
trae leaned forth and stabbed him between the shoul-
ders. Up went his hands over his head, I know not
whether with the pain or to ward himself; and the
next moment he doubled forward in the mud.

Ballantrae was already over the ankles, but he
58

THE MASTER'S WANDERINGS

plucked himself out and came back to me, where 1
stood with my knees smiting one another. "The
devil take you, Francis! " says he. " I believe you are
a half-hearted fellow after all. I have only done justice
on a pirate. And here we are quite clear of the Sarah !
Who shall now say that we have dipped our hands in
any irregularities ? "

I assured him he did me injustice; but my sense of
humanity was so much affected by the horridness of the
fact that I could scarce find breath to answer with.

"Come," said he, "you must be more resolved.
The need for this fellow ceased when he had shown
you where the path ran ; and you cannot deny I would
have been daft to let slip so fair an opportunity."

I could not deny but he was right in principle ; nor
yet could I refrain from shedding tears, of which I
think no man of valour need have been ashamed ; and
it was not until I had a share of the rum that I was
able to proceed. I repeat I am far from ashamed of my
generous emotion; mercy is honourable in the warrior;
and yet I cannot altogether censure Ballantrae, whose
step was really fortunate, as we struck the path with-
out further misadventure, and the same night, about
sundown, came to the edge of the morass.

We were too weary to seek far; on some dry sands
still warm with the day's sun, and close under a wood
of pines, we lay down and were instantly plunged in
sleep.

We awaked the next morning very early, and be-
gan with a sullen spirit a conversation that came near
to end in blows. We were now cast on shore in the
southern provinces, thousands of miles from any French

59

THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

settlement; a dreadful journey and a thousand perils
lay in front of us ; and sure, if there was ever need for
amity, it was in such an hour. I must suppose that
Ballantrae had suffered in his sense of what is truly
polite ; indeed, and there is nothing strange in the idea,
after the sea wolves we had consorted with so long;
and as for myself he fubbed me off unhandsomely and
any gentleman would have resented his behaviour.

I told him in what light I saw his conduct; he
walked a little off, I following to upbraid him; and at
last he stopped me with his hand.

" Frank," says he, "you know what we swore; and
yet there is no oath invented would induce me to swal-
low such expressions, if I did not regard you with sin-
cere affection. It is impossible you should doubt me
there: I have given proofs. Dutton I had to take, be-
cause he knew the pass, and Grady because Dutton
would not move without him ; but what call was there
to carry you along ? You are a perpetual danger to me
with your cursed Irish tongue. By rights you should
now be in irons in the cruiser. And you quarrel with
me like a baby for some trinkets ! "

I considered this one of the most unhandsome speeches
ever made ; and indeed to this day I can scarce reconcile
it to my notion of a gentleman that was my friend. I
retorted upon him with his Scotch accent, of which he
had not so much as some, but enough to be very bar-
barous and disgusting, as I told him plainly; and the
affair would have gone to a great length, but for an
alarming intervention.

We had got some way off upon the sand. The place
where we had slept, with the packets lying undone and

60

THE MASTER'S WANDERINGS

the money scattered openly, was now between us and
the pines ; and it was out of these the stranger must
have come. There he was at least, a great hulking fel-
low of the country, with a broad axe on his shoulder,
looking open-mouthed, now at the treasure which was
just at his feet, and now at our disputation in which we
had gone far enough to have weapons in our hands.
We had no sooner observed him than he found his legs
and made off again among the pines.

This was no scene to put our minds at rest : a couple
of armed men in sea-clothes found quarrelling over a
treasure, not many miles from where a pirate had been
captured — here was enough to bring the whole country
about our ears. The quarrel was not even made up ; it
was blotted from our minds ; and we got our packets to-
gether in the twinkling of an eye and made off running
with the best will in the world. But the trouble was,
we did not know in what direction, and must continu-
ally return upon our steps. Ballantrae had indeed col-
lected what he could from Dutton; but it's hard to
travel upon hearsay; and the estuary, which spreads
into a vast irregular harbour, turned us off upon every
side with a new stretch of water.

We were near beside ourselves and already quite
spent with running, when coming to the top of a dune,
we saw we were again cut off by another ramification of
the bay. This was a creek, however, very different from
those that had arrested us before; being set in rocks,
and so precipitously deep, that a small vessel was able
to lie alongside, made fast with a hawser; and her crew
had laid a plank to the shore. Here they had lighted
a fire and were sitting at their meal. As for the ves-

61

THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

sel herself, she was one of those they build in the
Bermudas.

The love of gold and the great hatred that everybody
has to pirates were motives of the most influential, and
would certainly raise the country in our pursuit. Be-
sides it was now plain we were on some sort of strag-
gling peninsula like the fingers of a hand ; and the wrist,
or passage to the mainland, which we should have taken
at the first, was by this time not improbably secured.
These considerations put us on a bolder counsel. For
as long as we dared, looking every moment to hear
sounds of the chase, we lay among some bushes on the
top of the dune ; and having by this means secured a
little breath and recomposed our appearance, we strolled
down at last, with a great affectation of carelessness, to
the party by the fire.

It was a trader and his negroes, belonging to Albany
in the province of New York, and now on the way home
from the Indies with a cargo; his name I cannot recall.
We were amazed to learn he had put in here from ter-
ror of the Sarah; for we had no thought our exploits
had been so notorious. As soon as the Albanian heard
she had been taken the day before, he jumped to his
feet, gave us a cup of spirits for our good news, and
sent his negroes to get sail on the Bermudan. On our
side, we profited by the dram to become more confi-
dential, and at last offered ourselves as passengers. He
looked askance at our tarry clothes and pistols, and re-
plied civilly enough that he had scarce accommodation
for himself; nor could either our prayers or our offers
of money, in which we advanced pretty far, avail to
shake him.

62

THE MASTER'S WANDERINGS

"I see you think ill of us," says Ballantrae, "but I
will show you how well we think of you by telling
you the truth. We are Jacobite fugitives, and there is
a price upon our heads."

At this, the Albanian was plainly moved a little. He
asked us many questions as to the Scotch war, which
Ballantrae very patiently answered. And then, with a
wink, in a vulgar manner, "I guess you and your Prince
Charlie got more than you cared about," said he.

"Bedad, and that we did," said I. "And my dear
man, I wish you would set a new example and give us
just that much."

This I said in the Irish way, about which there is
allowed to be something very engaging. It's a remark-
able thing, and a testimony to the love with which our
nation is regarded, that this address scarce ever fails
in a handsome fellow. I cannot tell how often I have
seen a private soldier escape the horse, or a beggar
wheedle out a good alms, by a touch of the brogue.
And, indeed, as soon as the Albanian had laughed at
me I was pretty much at rest. Even then, however,
he made many conditions and (for one thing) took
away our arms, before he suffered us aboard; which
was the signal to cast off; so that in a moment after,
we were gliding down the bay with a good breeze and
blessing the name of God for our deliverance. Almost
in the mouth of the estuary, we passed the cruiser, and
a little after, the poor Sarah with her prize crew; and
these were both sights to make us tremble. The Ber-
mudan seemed a very safe place to be in, and our bold
stroke to have been fortunately played, when we were
thus reminded of the case of our companions. For all that,

63

THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

we had only exchanged traps, jumped out of the frying
pan into the fire, run from the yard arm to the block, and
escaped the open hostility of the man of war to lie at the
mercy of the doubtful faith of our Albanian merchant.

From many circumstances, it chanced we were safer
than we could have dared to hope. The town of Al-
bany was at that time much concerned in contraband
trade across the desert with the Indians and the French.
This, as it was highly illegal, relaxed their loyalty, and
as it brought them in relation with the politest people
on the earth, divided even their sympathies. In short
they were like all the smugglers in the world, spies and
agents ready-made for either party. Our Albanian be-
sides was a very honest man indeed, and very greedy ;
and to crown our luck, he conceived a great delight in
our society. Before we had reached the town of New
York, we had come to a full agreement : that he should
carry us as far as Albany upon his ship, and thence put
us on a way to pass the boundaries and join the French.
For all this we were to pay at a high rate ; but beggars
cannot be choosers, nor outlaws bargainers.

We sailed, then, up the Hudson River which, I pro-
test, is a very fine stream, and put up at the King's
Arms in Albany. The town was full of the militia of
the province, breathing slaughter against the French.
Governor Clinton was there himself, a very busy man,
and by what I could learn, very near distracted by the
factiousness of his Assembly. The Indians on both
sides were on the war path ; we saw parties of them
bringing in prisoners and (what was much worse)
scalps, both male and female, for which they were paid
at a fixed rate ; and I assure you the sight was not en-

THE MASTER'S WANDERINGS

couraging. Altogether we could scarce have come at
a period more unsuitable for our designs; our position
in the chief inn was dreadfully conspicuous : our Alba-
nian fubbed us off with a thousand delays and seemed
upon the point of a retreat from his engagements ; noth-
ing but peril appeared to environ the poor fugitives;
and for some time, we drowned our concern in a very
irregular course of living.

This too proved to be fortunate; and it's one of the
remarks that fall to be made upon our escape, how
providentially our steps were conducted to the very
end. What a humiliation to the dignity of man ! My
philosophy, the extraordinary genius of Ballantrae, our
valour, in which I grant that we were equal — all these
might have proved insufficient without the Divine
Blessing on our efforts. And how true it is, as the
Church tells us, that the Truths of Religion are after all
quite applicable even to daily affairs ! At least it was in
the course of our revelry that we made the acquaintance
of a spirited youth, by the name of Chew. He was one
of the most daring of the Indian traders, very well ac-
quainted with the secret paths of the wilderness, needy,
dissolute, and by a last good fortune, in some disgrace
with his family. Him we persuaded to come to our
relief; he privately provided what was needful for our
flight; and one day we slipped out of Albany, without
a word to our former friend, and embarked, a little
above, in a canoe.

To the toils and perils of this journey, it would re-
quire a pen more elegant than mine to do full justice.
The reader must conceive for himself the dreadful wil-
derness which we had now to thread; its thickets,

THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

swamps, precipitous rocks, impetuous rivers, and amaz-
ing waterfalls. Among these barbarous scenes, we
must toil all day, now paddling, now carrying our
canoe upon our shoulders; and at night we slept about
a fire, surrounded by the howling of wolves and other
savage animals. It was our design to mount the head-
waters of the Hudson, to the neighbourhood of Crown
Point; where the French had a strong place in the
woods, upon Lake Champlain. But to have done this
directly were too perilous ; and it was accordingly gone
upon by such a labyrinth of rivers, lakes and portages
as makes my head giddy to remember. These paths
were in ordinary times entirely desert; but the country
was now up, the tribes on the war path, the woods
full of Indian scouts. Again and again we came upon
these parties, when we least expected them; and one
day, in particular, I shall never forget; how, as dawn
was coming in, we were suddenly surrounded by five
or six of these painted devils, uttering a very dreary
sort of cry and brandishing their hatchets. It passed
off harmlessly indeed, as did the rest of our encounters ;
for Chew was well known and highly valued among
the different tribes. Indeed he was a very gallant, re-
spectable young man. But even with the advantage
of his companionship, you must not think these meet-
ings were without sensible peril. To prove friendship
on our part, it was needful to draw upon our stock of
rum — indeed, under whatever disguise, that is the true
business of the Indian trader, to keep a travelling public
house in the forest; and when once the braves had got
their bottle of scaura (as they call this beastly liquor)
it behooved us to set forth and paddle for our scalps.

66

THE MASTER'S WANDERINGS

Once they were a little drunk, good bye to any sense
or decency ; they had but the one thought, to get more
scaura; they might easily take it in their heads to give
us chase; and had we been overtaken, I had never
written these memoirs.

We were come to the most critical portion of our
course, where we might equally expect to fall into the
hands of French or English, when a terrible calamity
befell us. Chew was taken suddenly sick with symp-
toms like those of poison, and in the course of a few
hours expired in the bottom of the canoe. We thus
lost at once our guide, our interpreter, our boatman and
our passport, for he was all these in one; and found
ourselves reduced, at a blow, to the most desperate and
irremediable distress. Chew, who took a great pride in
his knowledge, had indeed often lectured us on the geog-
raphy ; and Ballantrae, I believe, would listen. But for
my part I have always found such information highly
tedious ; and beyond the fact that we were now in the
country of the Adirondack Indians, and not so distant
from our destination, could we but have found our way,
I was entirely ignorant. The wisdom of my course
was soon the more apparent; for with all his pains, Bal-
lantrae was no further advanced than myself. He knew
we must continue to go up one stream ; then, by way
of a portage, down another; and then up a third. But
you are to consider, in a mountain country, how many
streams come rolling in from every hand. And how is
a gentleman, who is a perfect stranger in that part of the
world, to tell any one of them from any other ? Nor was
this our only trouble. We were great novices, besides,
in handling a canoe; the portages were almost beyond

67

THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

our strength, so that I have seen us sit down in despair
for half an hour at a time without one word ; and the
appearance of a single Indian, since we had now no
means of speaking to them, would have been in all
probability the means of our destruction. There is al-
together some excuse if Ballantrae showed something
of a gloomy disposition ; his habit of imputing blame to
others, quite as capable as himself, was less tolerable,
and his language it was not always easy to accept. In-
deed he had contracted on board the pirate ship a man-
ner of address which was in a high degree unusual be-
tween gentlemen; and now, when you might say he
was in a fever, it increased upon him hugely.

The third day of these wanderings, as we were carry-
ing the canoe upon a rocky portage, she fell and was en-
tirely bilged. The portage was between two lakes, both
pretty extensive; the track, such as it was, opened at
both ends upon the water, and on both hands was en-
closed by the unbroken woods ; and the sides of the lakes
were quite impassable with bog : so that we beheld our-
selves not only condemned to go without our boat and
the greater part of our provisions, but to plunge at once
into impenetrable thickets and to desert what little guid-
ance we still had, — the course of the river. Each stuck
his pistols in his belt, shouldered an axe, made a pack of
his treasure and as much food as he could stagger under;
and deserting the rest of our possessions, even to our
swords, which would have much embarrassed us among
the woods, we set forth on this deplorable adventure.
The labours of Hercules, so finely described by Homer,
were a trifle to what we now underwent. Some parts of
the forest were perfectly dense down to the ground, so

68

THE MASTER'S WANDERINGS

that we must cut our way like mites in a cheese. In some
the bottom was full of deep swamp, and the whole wood
entirely rotten. I have leaped on a great fallen log and
sunk to the knees in touchwood ; I have sought to stay
myself, in falling, against what looked to be a solid
trunk, and the whole thing has whiffed away at my
touch like a sheet of paper. Stumbling, falling, bogging
to the knees, hewing our way, our eyes almost put out
with twigs and branches, our clothes plucked from our
bodies, we laboured all day, and it is doubtful if we
made two miles. What was worse, as we could rarely
get a view of the country and were perpetually justled
from our path by obstacles, it was impossible even to
have a guess in what direction we were moving.

A little before sundown, in an open place with a
stream and set about with barbarous mountains, Ballan-
trae threw down his pack. " I will go no further, " said
he, and bade me light the fire, damning my blood in
terms not proper for a chairman.

I told him to try to forget he had ever Leen a pirate,
and to remember he had been a gentleman.

"Are you mad ? " he cried. " Don't cross me here! "
And then, shaking his fist at the hills, "To think," cries
he, "that I must leave my bones in this miserable wil-
derness ! Would God I had died upon the scaffold like
a gentleman! " This he said ranting like an actor; and
then sat biting his fingers and staring on the ground, a
most unchristian object.

I took a certain horror of the man, for I thought a
soldier and a gentleman should confront his end with
more philosophy. I made him no reply, therefore, in
words ; and presently the evening fell so chill that I was

60

THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

glad, for my own sake, to kindle a fire. And yet God
knows, in such an open spot, and the country alive with
savages, the act was little short of lunacy. Ballantrae
seemed never to observe me; but at last, as I was about
parching a little corn, he looked up.

" Have you ever a brother ? " said he.

"By the blessing of heaven," said I, "not less than
five."

" I have the one," said he, with a strange voice; and
then presently, " He shall pay me for all this," he added.
And when I asked him what was his brother's part
in our distress, "What!" he cried, "he sits in my
place, he bears my name, he courts my wife ; and I am
here alone with a damned Irishman in this tooth-
chattering desert ! O, I have been a common gull ! "
he cried.

The explosion was in all ways so foreign to my friend's
nature, that I was daunted out of all my just suscepti-
bility. Sure, an offensive expression, however vivacious,
appears a wonderfully small affair in circumstances so
extreme ! But here there is a strange thing to be noted.
He had only once before referred to the lady with whom
he was contracted. That was when we came in view
of the town of New York, when he had told me, if all
had their rights, he was now in sight of his own prop-
erty, for Miss Graeme enjoyed a large estate in the prov-
ince. And this was certainly a natural occasion; but
now here she was named a second time ; and what is
surely fit to be observed, in this very month, which was
November, '47, and I believe upon that very day as we sat
among these barbarous mountains, his brother and Miss
Graeme were married. I am the least superstitious of

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THE MASTER'S WANDERINGS

men ; but the hand of Providence is here displayed too
openly not to be remarked.*

The next day, and the next, were passed in similar
labours ; Ballantrae often deciding on our course by the
spinning of a coin ; and once, when I expostulated on
this childishness, he had an odd remark that I have
never forgotten. " I know no better way," said he, "to
express my scorn of human reason." I think it was the
third day, that we found the body of a Christian, scalped
and most abominably mangled, and lying in a pudder
of his blood ; the birds of the desert screaming over
him, as thick as flies. I cannot describe how dreadfully
this sight affected us ; but it robbed me of all strength
and all hope for this world. The same day, and only a
little after, we were scrambling over a part of the forest
that had been burned, when Ballantrae, who was a little
ahead, ducked suddenly behind a fallen trunk. I joined
him in this shelter, whence we could look abroad with-
out being seen ourselves; and in the bottom of the next
vale, beheld a large war party of the savages going by
across our line. There might be the value of a weak
battalion present; all naked to the waist, blacked with
grease and suit, and painted with white lead and ver-
million, according to their beastly habits. They went
one behind another like a string of geese, and at a quick-
ish trot ; so that they took but a little while to rattle by
and disappear again among the woods. Yet I suppose
we endured a greater agony of hesitation and suspense
in these few minutes than goes usually to a man's whole
life. Whether they were French or English Indians,

* Note by Mr. Mackellar: A complete blunder: there was at this
date no word of the marriage: see above in my own narration.

7»

THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

whether they desired scalps or prisoners, whether we
should declare ourselves upon the chance or lie quiet
and continue the heart-breaking business of our journey :
sure, I think, these were questions to have puzzled the
brains of Aristotle himself. Ballantrae turned to me with
a face all wrinkled up and his teeth showing in his mouth,
like what I have read of people starving ; he said no word,
but his whole appearance was a kind of dreadful ques-
tion:

"They may be of the English side," I whispered;
"and think! the best we could then hope, is to begin
this over again."

" I know, I know," he said. "Yet it must come to
a plunge at last." And he suddenly plucked out his
coin, shook it in his closed hands, looked at it, and
then lay down with his face in the dust.

Addition by Mr. Mackellar. I drop the Chevalier's
narration at this point because the couple quarrelled and
separated the same day ; and the Chevalier's account of
the quarrel seems to me (I must confess) quite incom-
patible with the nature of either of the men. Hence-
forth, they wandered alone, undergoing extraordinary
sufferings ; until first one and then the other was picked
up by a party from Fort St. Frederick. Only two things
are to be noted. And first (as most important for my
purpose) that the Master, in the course of his miseries
buried his treasure, at a point never since discovered, but
of which he took a drawing in his own blood on the
lining of his hat. And second, that on his coming thus
penniless to the Fort, he was welcomed like a brother by
the Chevalier, who thence paid his way to France. The

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THE MASTER'S WANDERINGS

simplicity of Mr. Burke's character leads him at this point
to praise the Master exceedingly ; to an eye more worldly
wise, it would seem it was the Chevalier alone that was
to be commended. I have the more pleasure in pointing
to this reall; very noble trait of my esteemed correspon-
dent, as I fear I may have wounded him immediately
before. I have refrained from comments on any of his
extraordinary and (in my eyes) immoral opinions, for I
know him to be jealous of respect. But his version of
the quarrel is really more than I can reproduce; for I
knew the Master myself, am' a man more insusceptible
of fear is not conceivable. I regret this oversight of the
Chevalier's, and all the more because the tenor of his
narrative (set aside a few flourishes) strikes me as highly
ingenuous.

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PERSECUTIONS ENDURED BY MR. HENRY

You can guess on what part of his adventures the
Colonel principally dwelled. Indeed, if we had heard
it all, it is to be thought the current of this business had
been wholly altered ; but the pirate ship was very gently
touched upon. Nor did I hear the Colonel to an end
even of that which he was willing to disclose ; for Mr.
Henry, having for some while been plunged in a brown
study, rose at last from his seat and (reminding the
Colonel there were matters that he must attend to) bade
me follow him immediately to the office.

Once there, he sought no longer to dissemble his con-
cern, walking to and fro in the room with a contorted
face, and passing his hand repeatedly upon his brow.

"We have some business," he began at last; and
there broke off, declared we must have wine, and sent
for a magnum of the best. This was extremely foreign
to his habitudes; and what was still more so, when
the wine had come, he gulped it down one glass upon
another like a man careless of appearances. But the
drink steadied him.

"You will scarce be surprised, Mackellar," says he,
" when I tell you that my brother (whose safety we are
all rejoiced to learn) stands in some need of money."

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PERSECUTIONS

I told him I had misdoubted as much; but the time
was not very fortunate as the stock was low.

"Not mine," said he. "There is the money for the
mortgage."

I reminded him it was Mrs. Henry's.

" I will be answerable to my wife," he cried violently.

"And then," said I, "there is the mortgage."

"I know," said he, "it is on that I would consult
you."

I showed him how unfortunate a time it was to divert
this money from its destination ; and how by so doing
we must lose the profit of our past economies, and
plunge back the estate into the mire. I even took the
liberty to plead with him; and when he still opposed
me with a shake of the head and a bitter dogged smile,
my zeal quite carried me beyond my place. "This is
midsummer madness," cried I; "and I for one will be
no party to it."

" You speak as though I did it for my pleasure," says
he. "But I have a child now; and besides I love or-
der; and to say the honest truth, Mackellar, I had be-
gun to take a pride in the estates." He gloomed for a
moment. " But what would you have ?" he went on.
"Nothing is mine, nothing. This day's news has
knocked the bottom out of my life. I have only the
name and the shadow of things; only the shadow;
there is no substance in my rights.1*

"They will prove substantial enough before a court,"
said I.

He looked at me with a burning eye, and seemed to
repress the word upon his lips; and I repented what I
had said, for I saw that while he spoke of the estate he

75

THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

had still a side-thought to his marriage. And then, of
a sudden, he twitched the letter from his pocket, where
it lay all crumpled, smoothed it violently on the table,
and read these words to me with a trembling tongue.
" 'My dear Jacob' — This is how he begins!" cries he
— " ' My dear Jacob, I once called you so, you may re-
member; and you have now done the business, and
flung my heels as high as Criffel.' What do you think
of that, Mackellar," says he, "from an only brother? I
declare to God I liked him very well ; I was always
staunch to him ; and this is how he writes ! But I will
not sit down under the imputation — " (walking to and
fro) — "I am as good as he, I am a better man than he,
I call on God to prove it! I cannot give him all the
monstrous sum he asks ; he knows the estate to be in-
competent; but I will give him what I have, and it is
more than he expects. I have borne all this too long.
See what he writes further on ; read it for yourself : ' I
know you are a niggardly dog.' A niggardly dog! I,
niggardly? Is that true, Mackellar ? You think it is?"
I really thought he would have struck me at that. "O,
you all think so! Well, you shall see, and he shall see,
and God shall see. If I ruin the estate and go barefoot,
I shall stuff this bloodsucker. Let him ask all — all, and
he shall have it! It is all his by rights. Ah ! " he cried,
"and I foresaw all this and worse, when he would not
let me go." He poured out another glass of wine and
was about to carry it to his lips, when I made so bold
as lay a finger on his arm. He stopped a moment.
"You are right," said he, and flung glass and all in the
fire-place. "Come, let us count the money."

I durst no longer oppose him; indeed I was very

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PERSECUTIONS

much affected by the sight of so much disorder in a
man usually so controlled ; and we sat down together,
counted the money, and made it up in packets for the
greater ease of Colonel Burke, who was to be the bearer.
This done, Mr. Henry returned to the hall, where he
and my old lord sat all night through with their guest

A little before dawn I was called and set out with the
Colonel. He would scarce have liked a less responsible
convoy, for he was a man who valued himself; nor
could we afford him one more dignified, for Mr. Henry
must not appear with the freetraders. It was a very
bitter morning of wind, and as we went down through
the long shrubbery, the Colonel held himself muffled in
his cloak.

"Sir," said I, "this is a great sum of money that
your friend requires. I must suppose his necessities to
be very great."

"We must suppose so," says he, I thought drily, but
perhaps it was the cloak about his mouth.

"I am only a servant of the family," said I. "You
may deal openly with me. I think we are likely to get
little good by him ? "

"My dear man," said the Colonel, "Ballantrae is a
gentleman of the most eminent natural abilities, and a
man that I admire and that I revere, to the very ground
he treads on." And then he seemed to me to pause like
one in a difficulty.

"But for all that," said I, "we are likely to get little
good by him?"

"Sure, and you can have it your own way, my dear
man," says the Colonel.

By this time we had come to the side of the creek,
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THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

where the boat awaited him. "Well," said he, "I am
sure I am very much your debtor for all your civility,
Mr. Whatever-your-name-is ; and just as a last word,
and since you show so much intelligent interest, I will
mention a small circumstance that may be of use to the
family. For I believe my friend omitted to mention that
he has the largest pension on the Scots Fund of any ref-
ugee in Paris; and it's the more disgraceful, sir," cries
the Colonel, warming, "because there's not one dirty
penny for myself."

He cocked his hat at me, as if I had been to blame for
this partiality ; then changed again into his usual swag-
gering civility, shook me by the hand, and set off down
to the boat, with the money under his arms, and whist-
ling as he went the pathetic air of Shule Aroon. It was
the first time I had heard that tune; I was to hear it
again, words and all, as you shall learn ; but I remem-
ber how that little stave of it ran in my head, after the
freetraders had bade him " Wheesht, in the deil's name,"
and the grating of the oars had taken its place, and I
stood and watched the dawn creeping on the sea, and
the boat drawing away, and the lugger lying with her
foresail backed awaiting it.

The gap made in our money was a sore embarrass-
ment; and among other consequences, it had this: that
I must ride to Edinburgh, and there raise a new loan
on very questionable terms to keep the old afloat; and
was thus, for close upon three weeks, absent from the
house of Durrisdeer.

What passed in the interval, I had none to tell me;
but I found Mrs. Henry, upon my return, much changed

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PERSECUTIONS

in her demeanour; the old talks with my lord for the
most part pretermitted ; a certain deprecation visible
towards her husband, to whom I thought she addressed
herself more often; and for one thing, she was now
greatly wrapped up in Miss Katharine. You would
think the change was agreeable to Mr. Henry ! no such
matter! To the contrary, every circumstance of alter-
ation was a stab to him ; he read in each the avowal of
her truant fancies: — that constancy to the Master of
which she was proud while she supposed him dead,
she had to blush for now she knew he was alive : and
these blushes were the hated spring of her new conduct.
I am to conceal no truth ; and I will here say plainly, I
think this was the period in which Mr. Henry showed
the worst. He contained himself, indeed, in public ; but
there was a deep-seated irritation visible underneath.
With me, from whom he had less concealment, he was
often grossly unjust; and even for his wife, he would
sometimes have a sharp retort: perhaps when she had
ruffled him with some unwonted kindness; perhaps
upon no tangible occasion, the mere habitual tenor of
the man's annoyance bursting spontaneously forth.
When he would thus forget himself (a thing so strangely
out of keeping with the terms of their relation), there
went a shock through the whole company ; and the pair
would look upon each other in a kind of pained amaze-
ment.

All the time too, while he was injuring himself by
this defect of temper, he was hurting his position by a
silence, of which I scarce know whether to say it was
the child of generosity or pride. The freetraders came
again and again, bringing messengers from the Master,

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THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

and none departed empty handed. I never durst reason
with Mr. Henry ; he gave what was asked of him in a
kind of noble rage. Perhaps because he knew he was
by nature inclining to the parsimonious, he took a back-
foremost pleasure in the recklessness with which he sup-
plied his brother's exigence. Perhaps the falsity of the
position would have spurred a humbler man into the
same excesses. But the estate (if I may say so) groaned
under it ; our daily expenses were shorn lower and lower ;
the stables were emptied, all but four roadsters; ser-
vants were discharged, which raised a dreadful mur-
muring in the country and heated up the old disfavour
upon Mr. Henry ; and at last the yearly visit to Edinburgh
must be discontinued.

This was in 1756. You are to suppose that for seven
years this bloodsucker had been drawing the life's
blood from Durrisdeer ; and that all this time, my patron
had held his peace. It was an effect of devilish malice
in the Master, that he addressed Mr. Henry alone upon
the matter of his demands ; and there was never a word
to my lord. The family had looked on wondering at
our economies. They had lamented, I have no doubt,
that my patron had become so great a miser; a fault
always despicable, but in the young abhorrent ; and Mr.
Henry was not yet thirty years of age. Still he had
managed the business of Durrisdeer almost from a boy ;
and they bore with these changes in a silence as proud
and bitter as his own, until the coping stone of the
Edinburgh visit.

At this time, I believe my patron and his wife were
rarely together save at meals. Immediately on the back
of Colonel Burke's announcement, Mrs. Henry made

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PERSECUTIONS

palpable advances ; you might say she had laid a sort
of timid court to her husband, different indeed from her
former manner of unconcern and distance. I never had
the heart to blame Mr. Henry because he recoiled from
these advances; nor yet to censure the wife, when she
was cut to the quick by their rejection. But the result
was an entire estrangement, so that (as I say) they rarely
spoke except at meals. Even the matter of the Edin-
burgh visit was first broached at table; and it chanced
that Mrs. Henry was that day ailing and querulous. She
had no sooner understood her husband's meaning, than
the red flew in her face.

"At last," she cried, "this is too much ! Heaven
knows what pleasure I have in my life, that I should be
denied my only consolation. These shameful proclivi-
ties must be trod down ; we are already a mark and an
eyesore in the neighbourhood; I will not endure this
fresh insanity."

" I cannot afford it," says Mr. Henry.

"Afford?" she cried. "For shame! But I have
money of my own."

"That is all mine, madam, by marriage," he snarled,
and instantly left the room.

My old lord threw up his hands to heaven, and he and
his daughter, withdrawing to the chimney, gave me a
broad hint to be gone. I found Mr. Henry in his usual
retreat, the steward's room, perched on the end of the
table and plunging his penknife in it, with a very ugly
countenance.

"Mr. Henry," said I, "you do yourself too much in-
justice; and it is time this should cease."

"O!" cries he, "nobody minds here. They think
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THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

it only natural. I have shameful proclivities. I am a
niggardly dog," and he drove his knife up to the hilt.
"But I will show that fellow," he cried with an oath,
"I will show him which is the more generous."

"This is no generosity," said I, "this is only pride."

"Do you think I want morality?" he asked.

I thought he wanted help, and I should give it him,
willy-nilly ; and no sooner was Mrs. Henry gone to her
room, than I presented myself at her door and sought
admittance.

She openly showed her wonder. "What do you
want with me, Mr. Mackellar?" said she.

"The Lord knows, madam," says I, "I have never
troubled you before with any freedoms ; but this thing
lies too hard upon my conscience, and it will out. Is it
possible that two people can be so blind as you and my
lord ? and have lived all these years with a noble gen-
tleman like Mr. Henry, and understand so little of his
nature ? "

"What does this mean ?" she cried.

"Do you not know where his money goes to ? his —
and yours — and the money for the very wine he does
not drink at table?" I went on. "To Paris — to that
man ! Eight thousand pounds has he had of us in seven
years, and my patron fool enough to keep it secret ! "

"Eight thousand pounds! " she repeated. "It is im-
possible, the estate is not sufficient."

"God knows how we have sweated farthings to pro-
duce it," said I. "But eight thousand and sixty is the
sum, beside odd shillings. And if you can think my
patron miserly after that, this shall be my last interfer-
ence."

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PERSECUTIONS

"You need say no more, Mr. Mackellar," said she.
"You have done most properly in what you too mod-
estly call your interference. I am much to blame ; you
must think me indeed a very unobservant wife " — (look-
ing upon me with a strange smile) — "but I shall put
this right at once. The Master was always of a very
thoughtless nature ; but his heart is excellent ; he is the
soul of generosity. I shall write to him myself. You
cannot think how you have pained me by this commu-
nication."

"Indeed, madam, I had hoped to have pleased you,"
said I, for I raged to see her still thinking of the Master.

"And pleased," said she, "and pleased me of course."

That same day (I will not say but what I watched)
I had the satisfaction to see Mr. Henry come from his
wife's room in a state most unlike himself ; for his face
was all bloated with weeping, and yet he seemed to me
to walk upon the air. By this, I was sure his wife had
made him full amends for once; "Ah," thought I, to
myself, ' ' I have done a brave stroke this day. "

On the morrow, as I was seated at my books, Mr.
Henry came in softly behind me, took me by the shoul-
ders and shook me in a manner of playfulness. " I find
you are a faithless fellow after all," says he; which was
his only reference to my part, but the tone he spoke in
was more to me than any eloquence of protestation.
Nor was this all I had effected ; for when the next mes-
senger came (as he did not long afterwards) from the
Master, he got nothing away with him but a letter. For
some while back, it had been I myself who had con-
ducted these affairs ; Mr. Henry not setting pen to paper,
and I only in the dryest and most formal terms. But

83

THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

this letter I did not even see ; it would scarce be pleasant
reading, for Mr. Henry felt he had his wife behind him
for once, and I observed, on the day it was dispatched,
he had a very gratified expression.

Things went better now in the family, though it could
scarce be pretended they went well. There was now
at least no misconception ; there was kindness upon all
sides ; and I believe my patron and his wife might again
have drawn together, if he could but have pocketed his
pride, and she forgot (what was the ground of all) her
brooding on another man. It is wonderful how a private
thought leaks out; it is wonderful to me now, how we
should all have followed the current of her sentiments ;
and though she bore herself quietly, and had a very even
disposition, yet we should have known whenever her
fancy ran to Paris. And would not any one have thought
that my disclosure must have rooted up that idol? I
think there is the devil in women : all these years passed,
never a sight of the man, little enough kindness to re-
member (by all accounts) even while she had him, the
notion of his death intervening, his heartless rapacity
laid bare to her: that all should not do, and she must
still keep the best place in her heart for this accursed fel-
low, is a thing to make a plain man rage. I had never
much natural sympathy for the passion of love ; but
this unreason in my patron's wife disgusted me out-
right with the whole matter. I remember checking a
maid, because she sang some bairnly kickshaw while
my mind was thus engaged ; and my asperity brought
about my ears the enmity of all the petticoats about the
house ; of which I recked very little, but it amused Mr.
Henry, who rallied me much upon our joint unpopular-

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ity. ft Is strange enough (for my own mother was cer-
tainly one of the salt of the earth and my Aunt Dickson,
who paid my fees at the University, a very notable wo-
man) but I have never had much toleration for the fe-
male sex, possibly not much understanding; and being
far from a bold man, I have ever shunned their company.
Not only do I see no cause to regret this diffidence in
myself, but have invariably remarked the most unhappy
consequences follow those who were less wise. So
much I thought proper to set down, lest I show myself
unjust to Mrs. Henry. And besides the remark arose
naturally, on a reperusal of the letter which was the next
step in these affairs, and reached me to my sincere as-
tonishment by a private hand, some week or so after the
departure of the last messenger.

Letter from Colonel BURKE (afterwards Chevalier)
to MR. MACKELLAR.

Troyes in Champagne, )
July 12, 1756. )

My Dear Sir: — You will doubtless be surprised to receive a com-
munication from one so little known to you ; but on the occasion I
had the good fortune to rencounter you at Durrisdeer, I remarked you
for a young man of a solid gravity of character : a qualification which
I profess I admire and revere next to natural genius or the bold chival-
rous spirit of the soldier. 1 was besides interested in the noble family
which you have the honour to serve or (to speak more by the book) to
be the humble and respected friend of; and a conversation I had the
pleasure to have with you very early in the morning has remained
much upon my mind.

Being the other day in Paris, on a visit from this famous city where
I am in garrison, I took occasion to inquire your name (which I profess
I had forgot) at my friend, the Master of B. ; and a fair opportunity
occurring, 1 write to inform you of what 's new.

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THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

The Master of B. (when we had last some talk of him together) was
in receipt, as I think I then told you, of a highly advantageous pension
on the Scots Fund. He next received a company, and was soon after
advanced to a regiment of his own. My dear Sir, I do not offer to
explain this circumstance; any more than why I myself, who have rid
at the right hand of Princes, should be fubbed off with a pair of col-
ours and sent to rot in a hole at the bottom of the province. Accus-
tomed as I am to courts, I cannot but feel it is no atmosphere for a
plain soldier; and I could never hope to advance by similar means,
even could I stoop to the endeavour. But our friend has a particular
aptitude to succeed by the means of ladies; and if all be true that I
have heard, he enjoyed a remarkable protection. It is like this turned
against him ; for when 1 had the honour to shake him by the hand, he
was but newly released from the Bastille where he had been cast on a
sealed letter; and though now released, has both lost his regiment and
his pension. My dear Sir, the loyalty of a plain Irishman will ulti-
mately succeed in the place of craft ; as I am sure a gentleman of your
probity will agree.

Now, Sir, the Master is a man whose genius I admire beyond ex-
pression, and besides he is my friend; but I thought a little word of
this revolution in his fortunes would not come amiss, for in my opin-
ion, the man's desperate. He spoke when I saw him of a trip to India
(whither I' am myself in some hope of accompanying my illustrious
countryman, Mr. Lally); but for this he would require (as I understood)
more money than was readily at his command. You may have heard
a military proverb ; that it is a good thing to make a bridge of gold to
a flying enemy? I trust you will take my meaning; — and I subscribe
myself, with proper respects to my Lord Durrisdeer, to his son, and to
the beauteous Mrs. Durie,

My dear Sir,

Your obedient humble servant

Francis Burke.

This missive I carried at once to Mr. Henry; and I
think there was but the one thought between the two of
us : that it had come a week too late. I made haste to
send an answer to Colonel Burke, in which I begged

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him, if he should see the Master, to assure him his next
messenger would be attended to. But with all my haste
I was not in time to avert what was impending; the
arrow had been drawn, it must now fly. I could almost
doubt the power of providence (and certainly his will)
to stay the issue of events ; and it is a strange thought,
how many of us had been storing up the elements of
this catastrophe, for how long a time, and with how
blind an ignorance of what we did.

From the coming of the Colonel's letter, I had a spy-
glass in my room, began to drop questions to the tenant
folk, and as there was no great secrecy observed and the
freetrade (in our part) went by force as much as stealth,
I had soon got together a knowledge of the signals in
use, and knew pretty well to an hour when any mes-
senger might be expected. I say I questioned the ten-
ants ; for with the traders themselves, desperate blades
that went habitually armed, I could never bring myself
to meddle willingly. Indeed, by what proved in the
sequel an unhappy chance, I was an object of scorn to
some of these braggadocios ; who had not only gratified
me with a nickname, but catching me one night upon a
by-path and being all (as they would have said) some-
what merry, had caused me to dance for their diversion.
The method employed was that of cruelly chipping at
my toes with naked cutlasses, shouting at the same
time "Square-Toes"; and though they did me no bod-
ily mischief, I was none the less deplorably affected and
was indeed for several days confined to my bed : a scan-
dal on the state of Scotland on which no comment is
required.

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THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

It happened on the afternoon of November 7th, in this
same unfortunate year, that I espied, during my walk,
the smoke of a beacon fire upon the Muckleross. It was
drawing near time for my return; but the uneasiness
upon my spirits was that day so great, that I must burst
through the thickets to the edge of what they call the
Craig Head. The sun was already down, but there was
still a broad light in the west, which showed me some
of the smugglers treading out their signal fire upon the
Ross, and in the bay the lugger lying with her sails
brailed up. She was plainly but new come to anchor,
and yet the skiff was already lowered and pulling for the
landing place at the end of the long shrubbery. And
this I knew could signify but one thing, the coming of
a messenger for Durrisdeer.

I laid aside the remainder of my terrors, clambered
down the brae — a place I had never ventured through
before, and was hid among the shore-side thickets in
time to see the boat touch. Captain Crail himself was
steering, a thing not usual ; by his side there sat a pas-
senger; and the men gave way with difficulty, being
hampered with near upon half a dozen portmanteaus,
great and small. But the business of landing was briskly
carried through; and presently the baggage was all
tumbled on shore, the boat on its return voyage to the
lugger, and the passenger standing alone upon the point
of rock, a tall slender figure of a gentleman, habited
in black, with a sword by his side and a walking cane
upon his wrist. As he so stood, he waved the cane to
Captain Crail by way of salutation, with something both
of grace and mockery that wrote the gesture deeply on
my mind.

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No sooner was the boat away with my sworn ene-
mies, than I took a sort of half courage, came forth to
the margin of the thicket, and there halted again, my
mind being greatly pulled about between natural diffi-
dence and a dark foreboding of the truth. Indeed I
might have stood there swithering all night, had not
the stranger turned, spied me through the mists, which
were beginning to fall, and waved and cried on me to
draw near. I did so with a heart like lead.

"Here, my good man," said he, in the English ac-
cent, " here are some things for Durrisdeer."

I was now near enough to see him, a very handsome
figure and countenance, swarthy, lean, long, with a
quick, alert, black look, as of one who was a fighter
and accustomed to command ; upon one cheek, he had
a mole, not unbecoming; a large diamond sparkled on
his hand ; his clothes, although of the one hue, were of
a French and foppish design; his ruffles, which he
wore longer than common, of exquisite lace; and I
wondered the more to see him in such a guise, when
he was but newly landed from a dirty smuggling lug-
ger. At the same time he had a better look at me,
toised me a second time sharply, and then smiled.

"I wager, my friend," says he, "that I know both
your name and your nickname. I divined these very
clothes upon your hand of writing, Mr. Mackellar."

At these words, I fell to shaking.

"O," says he, "you need not be afraid of me. I
bear no malice for your tedious letters; and it is my
purpose to employ you a good deal. You may call me
Mr. Bally: it is the name I have assumed; or rather
(since I am addressing so great a precision) it is so I

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have curtailed my own. Come now, pick up that and
that" — indicating two of the portmanteaus. "That
will be as much as you are fit to bear, and the rest can
very well wait. Come, lose no more time, if you
please."

His tone was so cutting that I managed to do as he
bid by a sort of instinct, my mind being all the time
quite lost. No sooner had I picked up the portman-
teaus, than he turned his back and marched off through
the long shrubbery ; where it began already to be dusk,
for the wood is thick and evergreen. I followed be-
hind, loaded almost to the dust, though I profess I was
not conscious of the burthen ; being swallowed up in
the monstrosity of this return and my mind flying like
a weaver's shuttle.

On a sudden I set the portmanteaus to the ground
and halted. He turned and looked back at me.

"Well? "said he.

" You are the Master of Ballantrae ?"

"You will do me the justice to observe," says he,
"that I have made no secret with the astute Mac-
kellar."

"And in the name of God," cries I, "what brings
you here ? Go back, while it is yet time."

"I thank you," said he. "Your master has chosen
this way, and not I ; but since he has made the choice,
he (and you also) must abide by the result. And now
pick up these things of mine, which you have set down
in a very boggy place, and attend to that which I have
made your business."

But I had no thought now of obedience ; I came straight
up to him. "If nothing will move you to go back,"

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said I; "though sure, under all the circumstances, any
Christian or even any gentleman would scruple to go
forward . . ."

" These are gratifying expressions," he threw in.

" If nothing will move you to go back," I continued,
"there are still some decencies to be observed. Wait
here with your baggage, and I will go forward and pre-
pare your family. Your father is an old man ; and ..."
I stumbled . . . "there are decencies to be observed."

"Truly," said he, "this Mackellar improves upon
acquaintance. But look you here, my man, and under-
stand it once for all — you waste your breath upon me,
and I go my own way with inevitable motion."

" Ah ! " says I. "Is that so ? We shall see then ! "

And I turned and took to my heels for Durrisdeer.
He clutched at me and cried out angrily, and then I be-
lieve I heard him laugh, and then I am certain he pur-
sued me for a step or two, and (I suppose) desisted.
One thing at least is sure, that I came but a few minutes
later to the door of the great house, nearly strangled for
the lack of breath but quite alone. Straight up the stair
I ran, and burst into the hall, and stopped before the
family without the power of speech ; but I must have
carried my story in my looks for they rose out of their
places and stared on me like changelings.

" He has come," I panted out at last.

"He? "said Mr. Henry.

"Himself, "said I.

" My son ? " cried my lord. " Imprudent, imprudent
boy! O, could he not stay where he was safe! "

Never a word said Mrs. Henry ; nor did I look at her,
I scarce knew why.

THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

"Well," said Mr. Henry, with a very deep breath,
"and where is he?"

" I left him in the long shrubbery," said I.

" Take me to him," said he.

So we went out together, he and I, without another
word from any one ; and in the midst of the gravelled
plot, encountered the Master strolling up, whistling as
he came and beating the air with his cane. There was
still light enough overhead to recognise though not to
read a countenance.

"Ah, Jacob!" says the Master. "So here is Esau
back."

"James," says Mr. Henry, "for God's sake, call me
by my name. I will not pretend that I am glad to see
you ; but I would fain make you as welcome as I can in
the house of our fathers."

"Or in my house? or yours?" says the Master.
"Which was you about to say? But this is an old
sore, and we need not rub it. If you would not share
with me in Paris, I hope you will yet scarce deny your
elder brother a corner of the fire at Durrisdeer?"

" That is very idle speech," replied Mr. Henry. " And
you understand the power of your position excellently
well."

"Why, I believe I do," said the other with a little
laugh. And this, though they had never touched hands,
was (as we may say) the end of the brothers' meeting;
for at this, the Master turned to me and bade me fetch
his baggage.

I, on my side, turned to Mr. Henry for a confirmation ;
perhaps with some defiance.

"As long as the Master is here, Mr. Mackellar, you

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will very much oblige me by regarding his wishes as you
would my own," says Mr. Henry. " We are constantly
troubling you : will you be so good as send one of the
servants ?" — with an accent on the word.

If this speech were anything at all, it was surely a well
deserved reproof upon the stranger; and yet, so devilish
was his impudence, he twisted it the other way.

"And shall we be common enough to say 'Sneck
up ?'" inquires he softly, looking upon me sideways.

Had a kingdom depended on the act, I could not have
trusted myself in words ; even to call a servant was be-
yond me ; I had rather serve the man myself than speak ;
and I turned away in silence and went into the long
shrubbery, with a heart full of anger and despair. It
was dark under the trees, and I walked before me and
forgot what business I was come upon, till I near broke
my shin on the portmanteaus. Then it was that I re-
marked a strange particular; for whereas I had before
carried both and scarce observed it, it was now as much
as I could do to manage one. And this, as it forced me
to make two journeys, kept me the longer from the hall.

When I got there the business of welcome was over
long ago; the company was already at supper; and by
an oversight that cut me to the quick, my place had
been forgotten. I had seen one side of the Master's re-
turn ; now I was to see the other. It was he who first
remarked my coming in and standing back (as I did) in
some annoyance. He jumped from his seat.

"And if I have not got the good Mackellar's place!"
cries he. "John lay another for Mr. Bally; I protest he
will disturb no one, and your table is big enough for
all."

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THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

I could scarce credit my ears; nor yet my senses when
he took me by the shoulders and thrust me laughing
into my own place ; such an affectionate playfulness was
in his voice. And while John laid the fresh place for
him (a thing on which he still insisted) he went and
leaned on his father's chair and looked down upon him,
and the old man turned about and looked upwards on his
son, with such a pleasant mutual tenderness, that I could
have carried my hand to my head in mere amazement.

Yet all was of a piece. Never a harsh word fell from
him, never a sneer showed upon his lip. He had laid
aside even his cutting English accent, and spoke with
the kindly Scots tongue, that sets a value on affection-
ate words ; and though his manners had a graceful ele-
gance mighty foreign to our ways in Durrisdeer, it was
still a homely courtliness, that did not shame but flat-
tered us. All that he did throughout the meal, indeed,
drinking wine with me with a notable respect, turning
about for a pleasant word with John, fondling his
father's hand, breaking into little merry tales of his ad-
ventures, calling up the past with happy reference — all
he did was so becoming, and himself so handsome, that
I could scarce wonder if my lord and Mrs. Henry sat
about the board with radiant faces, or if John waited
behind with dropping tears.

As soon as supper was over, Mrs. Henry rose to with-
draw.

" This was never your way, Alison," said he.

"It is my way now," she replied: which was notori-
ously false, "and I will give you a good-night, James,
and a welcome — from the dead." said she, and her
voice drooped and trembled.

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Poor Mr. Henry, who had made rather a heavy figure
through the meal, was more concerned than ever:
pleased to see his wife withdraw, and yet half dis-
pleased, as he thought upon the cause of it; and the
next moment altogether dashed by the fervour of her
speech.

On my part, I thought I was now one too many;
and was stealing after Mrs. Henry, when the Master
saw me.

"Now, Mr. Mackellar," says he, "I take this near on
an unfriendliness. I cannot have you go: this is to
make a stranger of the prodigal son — and let me re-
mind you where — in his own father's house! Come,
sit ye down, and drink another glass with Mr. Bally."

"Ay, ay, Mr. Mackellar," says my lord, "we must
not make a stranger either of him or you. I have been
telling my son," he added, his voice brightening as usual
on the word, "how much we valued all your friendly
service. "

So I sat there silent till my usual hour; and might
have been almost deceived in the man's nature, but for
one passage in which his perfidy appeared too plain.
Here was the passage ; of which, after what he knows
of the brothers' meeting, the reader shall consider for
himself. Mr. Henry sitting somewhat dully, in spite of
his best endeavours to carry things before my lord, up
jumps the Master, passes about the board, and claps his
brother on the shoulder.

" Come, come, Hairry lad," says he, with a broad
accent such as they must have used together when they
were boys, "you must not be downcast because your
brother has come home. All's yours, that's sure enough,

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and little I grudge it you. Neither must you grudge me
my place beside my father's fire."

" And that is too true, Henry," says my old lord with
a little frown, a thing rare with him. "You have been
the elder brother of the parable in the good sense; you
must be careful of the other."

" I am easily put in the wrong," said Mr. Henry.

"Who puts you in the wrong?" cried my lord, I
thought very tartly for so mild a man. ' ' You have earned
my gratitude and your brother's many thousand times;
you may count on its endurance; and let that suffice."

"Ay, Harry, that you may," said the Master; and I
thought Mr. Henry looked at him with a kind of wild-
ness in his eye.

On all the miserable business that now followed, I
have four questions that I asked myself often at the time
and ask myself still. Was the man moved by a particu-
lar sentiment against Mr. Henry ? or by what he thought
to be his interest ? or by a mere delight in cruelty such
as cats display and theologians tell us of the devil?
or by what he would have called love ? My common
opinion halts among the three first; but perhaps there
lay at the spring of his behaviour, an element of all.
As thus: Animosity to Mr. Henry would explain his
hateful usage of him when they were alone; the in-
terests he came to serve would explain his very dif-
ferent attitude before my lord; that and some spice
of a design of gallantry, his care to stand well with
Mrs. Henry; and the pleasure of malice for itself, the
pains he was continually at to mingle and oppose these
lines of conduct.

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Partly because I was a very open friend to my patron,
partly because in my letters to Paris I had often given
myself some freedom of remonstrance, I was included
in his diabolical amusement. When I was alone with
him, he pursued me with sneers ; before the family, he
used me with the extreme of friendly condescension.
This was not only painful in itself; not only did it put
me continually in the wrong; but there was in it an
element of insult indescribable. That he should thus
leave me out in his dissimulation, as though even my
testimony were too despicable to be considered, galled
me to the blood. But what it was to me is not worth
notice. I make but memorandum of it here ; and chiefly
for this reason, that it had one good result, and gave me
the quicker sense of Mr. Henry's martyrdom.

It was on him the burthen fell. How was he to re-
spond to the public advances of one who never lost a
chance of gibing him in private ? How was he to smile
back on the deceiver and the insulter? He was con-
demned to seem ungracious. He was condemned to
silence. Had he been less proud, had he spoken, who
would have credited the truth ? The acted calumny had
done its work ; my lord and Mrs. Henry were the daily
witnesses of what went on ; they could have sworn in
court that the Master was a model of long-suffering good-
nature and Mr. Henry a pattern of jealousy and thankless-
ness. And ugly enough as these must have appeared in
any one, they seemed tenfold uglier in Mr. Henry ; for who
could forget that the Master lay in peril of his life, and that
he had already lost his mistress, his title and his fortune ?

"Henry, will you ride with me?" asks the Master
one day.

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THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

And Mr. Henry, who had been goaded by the man
all morning, raps out: "I will not."

"1 sometimes wish you would be kinder, Henry,"
says the other wistfully.

I give this for a specimen ; but such scenes befell con-
tinually. Small wonder if Mr. Henry was blamed ; small
wonder if I fretted myself into something near upon a
bilious fever; nay, and at the mere recollection feel a
bitterness in my blood.

Sure, never in this world was a more diabolical con-
trivance : so perfidious, so simple, so impossible to com-
bat. And yet I think again, and I think always, Mrs.
Henry might have read between the lines; she might
have had more knowledge of her husband's nature; after
all these years of marriage, she might have commanded
or captured his confidence. And my old lord too, that
very watchful gentleman, where was all his observa-
tion ? But for one thing, the deceit was practised by a
master hand, and might have gulled an angel. For an-
other (in the case of Mrs. Henry), I have observed there
are no persons so far away as those who are both mar-
ried and estranged, so that they seem out of earshot or
to have no common tongue. For a third (in the case of
both of these spectators), they were blinded by old,
ingrained predilection. And for a fourth, the risk the
Master was supposed to stand in (supposed, I say —
you will soon hear why) made it seem the more un-
generous to criticise; and keeping them in a perpetual
tender solicitude about his life, blinded them the more
effectually to his faults.

It was during this time that I perceived most clearly
the effect of manner, and was led to lament most deeply

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the plainness of my own. Mr. Henry had the essence
of a gentleman ; when he was moved, when there was
any call of circumstance, he could play his part with
dignity and spirit; but in the day's commerce (it is idle
to deny it) he fell short of the ornamental. The Master
(on the other hand) had never a movement but it com-
mended him. So it befell, that when the one appeared
gracious and the other ungracious, every trick of their
bodies seemed to call out confirmation. Nor that alone :
but the more deeply Mr. Henry floundered in his broth-
er's toils, the more clownish he grew; and the more
the Master enjoyed his spiteful entertainment, the more
engagingly, the more smilingly, he went ! So that the
plot, by its own scope and progress, furthered and con-
firmed itself.

It was one of the man's arts to use the peril in which
(as I say) he was supposed to stand. He spoke of it to
those who loved him with a gentle pleasantry, which
made it the more touching. To Mr. Henry, he used it
as a cruel weapon of offence. I remember his laying
his finger on the clean lozenge of the painted window,
one day when we three were alone together in the hall.
"Here went your lucky guinea, Jacob," said he. And
when Mr. Henry only looked upon him darkly, "O,"
he added, "you need not look such impotent malice,
my good fly. You can be rid of your spider when you
please. How long, O Lord ? When are you to be
wrought to the point of a denunciation, scrupulous
brother ? It is one of my interests in this dreary hole.
I ever loved experiment." Still Mr. Henry only stared
upon him with a glooming brow, and a changed colour;
and at last the Master broke out in a laugh and clapped

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him on the shoulder, calling him a sulky dog. At this
my patron leaped back with a gesture I thought very
dangerous ; and I must suppose the Master thought so
too; for he looked the least in the world discounte-
nanced, and I do not remember him again to have laid
hands on Mr. Henry.

But though he had his peril always on his lips in the
one way or the other, I thought his conduct strangely
incautious, and began to fancy the government (who
had set a price upon his head) was gone sound asleep.
I will not deny I was tempted with the wish to de-
nounce him ; but two thoughts withheld me : one, that
if he were thus to end his life upon an honourable scaf-
fold, the man would be canonised for good in the
minds of his father and my patron's wife: the other,
that if I was anyway mingled in the matter, Mr. Henry
himself would scarce escape some glancings of suspi-
cion. And in the meanwhile our enemy went in and
out more than I could have thought possible, the fact
that he was home again was buzzed about all the coun-
tryside ; and yet he was never stirred. Of all these so-
many and so-different persons who were acquainted
with his presence, none had the least greed (as I used
to say, in my annoyance) or the least loyalty ; and the
man rode here and there — fully more welcome, con-
sidering the lees of old unpopularity, than Mr. Henry —
and considering the freetraders, far safer than myself.

Not but what he had a trouble of his own ; and this,
as it brought about the gravest consequences, I must
now relate. The reader will scarce have forgotten Jessie
Broun ; her way of life was much among the smuggling
party ; Captain Crail himself was of her intimates ; and

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she had early word of Mr. Bally's presence at the house.
In my opinion she had long ceased to care two straws
for the Master's person ; but it was become her habit to
connect herself continually with the Master's name;
that was the ground of all her play-acting; and so, now
when he was back, she thought she owed it to herself
to grow a haunter of the neighbourhood of Durrisdeer.
The Master could scarce go abroad but she was there
in wait for him; a scandalous figure of a woman, not
often sober; hailing him wildly as "her bonny laddie,"
quoting pedlar's poetry, and as I receive the story, even
seeking to weep upon his neck. I own I rubbed my
hands over this persecution ; but the Master, who laid
so much upon others, was himself the least patient of
men. There were strange scenes enacted in the policies.
Some say he took his cane to her, and Jessie fell back
upon her former weapon, stones. It is certain at least
that he made a motion to Captain Crail to have the
woman trepanned, and that the Captain refused the
proposition with uncommon vehemence. And the end
of the matter was victory for Jessie. Money was got
together; an interview took place in which my proud
gentleman must consent to be kissed and wept upon ;
and the woman was set up in a public of her own,
somewhere on Solway side (but I forget where) and by
the only news I ever had of it, extremely ill-frequented.
This is to look forward. After Jessie had been but a
little while upon his heels, the Master comes to me one
day in the steward's office, and with more civility than
usual, "Mackellar," says he, "there is a damned crazy
wench comes about here. I cannot well move in the
matter myself, which brings me to you. Be so good as

THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

see to it: the men must have a strict injunction to drive
the wench away."

"Sir," said I trembling a little, "you can do your own
dirty errands for yourself."

He said not a word to that, and left the room.

Presently came Mr. Henry. "Here is news!" cried
he. "It seems all is not enough, and you must add
to my wretchedness. It seems you have insulted Mr.
Bally."

"Under your kind favour, Mr. Henry," said I, "it
was he that insulted me, and as I think grossly. But I
may have been careless of your position when I spoke ;
and if you think so when you know all, my dear patron,
you have but to say the word. For you I would obey
in any point whatever, even to sin, God pardon me!"
And thereupon I told him what had passed.

Mr. Henry smiled to himself; a grimmer smile I never
witnessed. "You did exactly well," said he. "He
shall drink his Jessie Broun to the dregs." And then,
spying the Master outside, he opened the window, and
crying to him by the name of Mr. Bally, asked him to
step up and have a word.

"James," said he, when our persecutor had come in
and closed the door behind him, looking at me with
a smile as if he thought I was to be humbled, "you
brought me a complaint against Mr. Mackellar into
which I have inquired. I need not tell you I would
always take his word against yours ; for we are alone,
and I am going to use something of your own freedom.
Mr. Mackellar is a gentleman I value; and you must con-
trive, so long as you are under this roof, to bring your-
self into no more collisions with one whom I will sup-

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port at any possible cost to me or mine. As for the
errand upon which you came to him, you must deliver
yourself from the consequences of your own cruelty,
and none of my servants shall be at all employed in such
a case."

" My father's servants, I believe," says the Master.

"Go to him with this tale," said Mr. Henry.

The Master grew very white. He pointed at me with
his finger. " I want that man discharged," he said.

" He shall not be," said Mr. Henry.

"You shall pay pretty dear for this," says the Master.

"I have paid so dear already for a wicked brother,"
said Mr. Henry, "that I am bankrupt even of fears.
You have no place left where you can strike me."

"I will show you about that," says the Master, and
went softly away.

" What will he do next, Mackellar ? " cries Mr. Henry.

"Let me go away," said I. "My dear patron, let
me go away; I am but the beginning of fresh sorrows."

" Would you leave me quite alone ? " said he.

We were not long in suspense as to the nature of the
new assault. Up to that hour, the Master had played a
very close game with Mrs. Henry ; avoiding pointedly
to be alone with her, which I took at the time for an
effect of decency, but now think to be a most insidious
art; meeting her, you may say, at mealtime only; and
behaving, when he did so, like an affectionate brother.
Up to that hour, you may say he had scarce directly in-
terfered between Mr. Henry and his wife ; except in so
far as he had manoeuvred the one quite forth from the
good graces of the other. Now, all that was to be

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changed ; but whether really in revenge, or because he
was wearying of Durrisdeer and looked about for some
diversion, who but the devil shall decide ?

From that hour at least, began the siege of Mrs. Henry ;
a thing so deftly carried on that I scarce know if she was
aware of it herself, and that her husband must look on
in silence. The first parallel was opened (as was made
to appear) by accident. The talk fell, as it did often, on the
exiles in France; so it glided to the matter of their songs.

"There is one," says the Master, "if you are curious
in these matters, that has always seemed to me very
moving. The poetry is harsh ; and yet, perhaps because
of my situation, it has always found the way to my heart.
It is supposed to be sung, I should tell you, by an exile's
sweetheart; and represents, perhaps, not so much the
truth of what she is thinking, as the truth of what he
hopes of her, poor soull in these far lands." And here
the Master sighed. "I protest it is a pathetic sight
when a score of rough Irish, all common sentinels, get
to this song ; and you may see by their falling tears, how
it strikes home to them. It goes thus, father," says he,
very adroitly taking my lord for his listener, "and if I
cannot get to the end of it, you must think it is a com-
mon case with us exiles." And thereupon he struck up
the same air as I had heard the Colonel whistle; but now
to words, rustic indeed, yet most pathetically setting forth
a poor girl's aspirations for an exiled lover : of which one
verse indeed (or something like it) still sticks by me :

O, I will die my petticoat red,
With my dear boy I'll beg my bread,
Though all my friends should wish me dead,
For Willie among the rushes, O !
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PERSECUTIONS

He sang it well even as a song; but he did better yet
as a performer. I have heard famous actors, when there
was not a dry eye in the Edinburgh theatre; a great
wonder to behold; but no more wonderful than how the
Master played upon that little ballad and on those who
heard him like an instrument, and seemed now upon
the point of failing, and now to conquer his distress, so
that words and music seemed to pour out of his own
heart and his own past, and to be aimed direct at Mrs.
Henry. And his art went further yet; for all was so
delicately touched, it seemed impossible to suspect him
of the least design ; and so far from making a parade of
emotion, you would have sworn he was striving to be
calm. When it came to an end, we all sat silent for a
time; he had chosen the dusk of the afternoon, so that
none could see his neighbour's face ; but it seemed as if
we held our breathing, only my old lord cleared his
throat. The first to move was the singer, who got to
his feet suddenly and softly, and went and walked softly
to and fro in the low end of the hall, Mr. Henry's cus-
tomary place. We were to suppose that he there
struggled down the last of his emotion ; for he presently
returned and launched into a disquisition on the nature
of the Irish (always so much miscalled, and whom he
defended) in his natural voice; so that, before the lights
were brought, we were in the usual course of talk. But
even then, methought Mrs. Henry's face was a shade
pale ; and for another thing, she withdrew almost at
once.

The next sign was a friendship this insidious devil
struck up with innocent Miss Katharine; so that they
were always together, hand in hand, or she climbing on

THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

his knee, like a pair of children. Like all his diabolical
acts, this cut in several ways. It was the last stroke to
Mr. Henry, to see his own babe debauched against him ;
it made him harsh with the poor innocent, which brought
him still a peg lower in his wife's esteem ; and (to con-
clude) it was a bond of union between the lady and the
Master. Under this influence, their old reserve melted
by daily stages. Presently there came walks in the long
shrubbery, talks in the Belvedere, and I know not what
tender familiarity. I am sure Mrs. Henry was like many
a good woman ; she had a whole conscience, but per-
haps by the means of a little winking. For even to so
dull an observer as myself, it was plain her kindness was
of a more moving nature than the sisterly. The tones of
her voice appeared more numerous ; she had a light and
softness in her eye ; she was more gentle with all of us,
even with Mr. Henry, even with myself; methought she
breathed of some quiet melancholy happiness.

To look on at this, what a torment it was for Mr.
Henry! And yet it brought our ultimate deliverance,
as I am soon to tell.

The purport of the Master's stay was no more noble
(gild it as they might) than to wring money out. He
had some design of a fortune in the French Indies, as
the Chevalier wrote me; and it was the sum required
for this that he came seeking. For the rest of the family
it spelled ruin ; but my lord, in his incredible partiality,
pushed ever for the granting. The family was now so
narrowed down (indeed there were no more of them
than just the father and the two sons), that it was pos-
sible to break the entail, and alienate a piece of land.

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PERSECUTIONS

And to this, at first by hints, and then by open pressure,
Mr. Henry was brought to consent. He never would
have done so, I am very well assured, but for the weight
of the distress under which he laboured. But for his
passionate eagerness to see his brother gone, he would
not thus have broken with his own sentiment and the
traditions of his house. And even so, he sold them
his consent at a dear rate, speaking for once openly
and holding the business up in its own shameful
colours.

"You will observe," he said, "this is an injustice to
my son, if ever I have one."

" But that you are not likely to have," said my lord.

" God knows ! " says Mr. Henry. "And considering
the cruel falseness of the position in which I stand to
my brother, and that you, my lord, are my father and
have the right to command me, I set my hand to this
paper. But one thing I will say first : I have been un-
generously pushed, and when next, my lord, you are
tempted to compare your sons, I call on you to remem-
ber what I have done and what he has done. Acts are
the fair test."

My lord was the most uneasy man I ever saw ; even
in his old face, the blood came up. "I think this is not
a very wisely chosen moment, Henry, for complaints,"
said he. "This takes away from the merit of your
generosity."

" Do not deceive yourself, my lord," said Mr. Henry.
"This injustice is not done from generosity to him, but
in obedience to yourself."

" Before strangers ..." begins my lord, still more
unhappily affected.

107

THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

" There is no one but Mackellar here," said Mr. Henry;
"he is my friend. And my lord, as you make him no
stranger to your frequent blame, it were hard if I must
keep him one to a thing so rare as my defence."

Almost I believe my lord would have rescinded his
decision ; but the Master was on the watch.

"Ah, Henry, Henry," says he, "you are the best
of us still. Rugged and true! Ah, man, I wish I was
as good."

And at that instance of his favourite's generosity, my
lord desisted from his hesitation, and the deed was
signed.

As soon as it could be brought about, the land of
Ochterhall was sold for much below its value, and the
money paid over to our leech and sent by some private
carriage into France. Or so he said ; though I have sus-
pected since it did not go so far. And now here was
all the man's business brought to a successful head, and
his pockets once more bulging with our gold ; and yet
the point for which we had consented to this sacrifice
was still denied us, and the visitor still lingered on at
Durrisdeer. Whether in malice, or because the time
was not yet come for his adventure to the Indies, or
because he had hopes of his design on Mrs. Henry, or
from the orders of the government, who shall say ? but
linger he did and that for weeks.

You will observe I say : from the orders of govern-
ment ; for about this time, the man's disreputable secret
trickled out.

The first hint I had was from a tenant, who com-
mented on the Master's stay and yet more on his secu-
rity ; for this tenant was a Jacobitish sympathiser, and

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PERSECUTIONS

had lost a son at Culloden, which gave him the more
critical eye. "There is one thing," said he, "that I
cannot but think strange; and that is how he got to
Cockermouth."

"To Cockermouth ?" said I, with a sudden memory
of my first wonder on beholding the man disembark so
point-de-vice after so long a voyage.

" Why, yes," says the tenant, " it was there he was
picked up by Captain Crail. You thought he had come
from France by sea ? And so we all did."

I turned this news a little in my head, and then car-
ried it to Mr. Henry. " Here is an odd circumstance,"
said I, and told him.

"What matters how he came, Mackellar, so long as
he is here," groans Mr. Henry.

"No, sir," said I, "but think again! Does not this
smack a little of some government connivance ? You
know how much we have wondered already at the
man's security."

"Stop," said Mr. Henry. "Let me think of this."
And as he thought there came that grim smile upon his
face that was a little like the Master's. "Give me
paper," said he. And he sat without another word
and wrote to a gentleman of his acquaintance — I will
name no unnecessary names, but he was one in a high
place. This letter I despatched by the only hand I
could depend upon in such a case, Macconochie's ; and
the old man rode hard, for he was back with the reply,
before even my eagerness had ventured to expect him.
Again, as he read it, Mr. Henry had the same grim
smile.

"This is the best you have done for me yet, Mac-
109

THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

kellar," says he. " With this in my hand, I will give
him a shog. Watch for us at dinner."

At dinner accordingly, Mr. Henry proposed some
very public appearance for the Master; and my lord, as
he had hoped, objected to the danger of the course.

"O," says Mr. Henry, very easily, "you need no
longer keep this up with me. I am as much in the
secret as yourself."

"In the secret?" says my lord. "What do you
mean, Henry ? I give you my word I am in no secret
from which you are excluded."

The Master had changed countenance, and I saw he
was struck in a joint of his harness.

"How?" says Mr. Henry, turning to him with a
huge appearance of surprise. ' ' I see you serve your mas-
ters very faithfully ; but I had thought you would have
been humane enough to set your father's mind at rest."

" What are you talking of ? I refuse to have my busi-
ness publicly discussed. I order this to cease," cries the
Master very foolishly and passionately, and indeed more
like a child than a man.

"So much discretion was not looked for at your
hands, I can assure you," continued Mr. Henry. " For
see what my correspondent writes" — unfolding the
paper — " 'It is, of course, in the interests both of the
government and the gentleman whom we may per-
haps best continue to call Mr. Bally, to keep this under-
standing secret; but it was never meant his own family
should continue to endure the suspense you paint so
feelingly; and I am pleased mine should be the hand to
set these fears at rest. Mr. Bally is as safe in Great
Britain as yourself.' "

no

PERSECUTIONS

" Is this possible ? " cries my lord, looking at his son,
with a great deal of wonder and still more of suspicion
in his face.

"My dear father," says the Master, already much re-
covered, "I am overjoyed that this may be disclosed.
My own instructions direct from London bore a very
contrary sense, and I was charged to keep the indul-
gence secret from everyone, yourself not excepted, and
indeed yourself expressly named — as I can show in black
and white, unless I have destroyed the letter. They
must have changed their mind very swiftly, for the
whole matter is still quite fresh ; or rather Henry's cor-
respondent must have misconceived that part, as he
seems to have misconceived the rest. To tell you the
truth, sir," he continued, getting visibly more easy, " I
had supposed this unexplained favour to a rebel was
the effect of some application from yourself; and the
injunction to secrecy among my family the result of a
desire on your part to conceal your kindness. Hence I
was the more careful to obey orders. It remains now
to guess by what other channel indulgence can have
flowed on so notorious an offender as myself; for I do
not think your son need defend himself from what
seems hinted at in Henry's letter. I have never yet
heard of a Durrisdeer who was a turncoat or a spy,"
says he, proudly.

And so it seemed he had swum out of this danger
unharmed; but this was to reckon without a blunder
he had made, and without the pertinacity of Mr. Henry,
who was now to show he had something of his broth-
er's spirit.

" You say the matter is still fresh," says Mr. Henry.

THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

"It is recent," says the Master, with a fair show of
stoutness and yet not without a quaver.

"Is it so recent as that?" asks Mr. Henry, like a
man a little puzzled, and spreading his letter forth again.

In all the letter there was no word as to the date; but
how was the Master to know that ?

"It seemed to come late enough for me," says he,
with a laugh. And at the sound of that laugh, which
rang false like a cracked bell, my lord looked at him
again across the table, and I saw his old lips draw to-
gether close.

"No," said Mr. Henry, still glancing on his letter,
"but I remember your expression. You said it was
very fresh."

And here we had a proof of our victory, and the
strongest instance yet of my lord's incredible indul-
gence ; for what must he do but interfere to save his
favourite from exposure!

" I think, Henry," says he, with a kind of pitiful eager-
ness, " I think we need dispute no more. We are all
rejoiced at last to find your brother safe ; we are all at
one on that ; and as grateful subjects, we can do no less
than drink to the king's health and bounty."

Thus was the Master extricated ; but at least he had
been put to his defence, he had come lamely out, and
the attraction of his personal danger was now publicly
plucked away from him. My lord, in his heart of hearts,
now knew his favourite to be a government spy ; and
Mrs. Henry (however she explained the tale) was nota-
bly cold in her behaviour to the discredited hero of ro-
mance. Thus in the best fabric of duplicity, there is
some weak point, if you can strike it, which will loosen

PERSECUTIONS

all ; and if, by this fortunate stroke, we had not shaken
the idol, who can say how it might have gone with us
at the catastrophe ?

And yet at the time we seemed to have accomplished
nothing. Before a day or two he had wiped off the ill-
results of his discomfiture, and to all appearance, stood
as high as ever. As for my Lord Durrisdeer, he was
sunk in parental partiality; it was not so much love,
which should be an active quality, as an apathy and
torpor of his other powers ; and forgiveness (so to mis-
apply a noble word) flowed from him in sheer weak-
ness, like the tears of senility. Mrs. Henry's was a dif-
ferent case ; and heaven alone knows what he found to
say to her or how he persuaded her from her contempt.
It is one of the worst things of sentiment, that the voice
grows to be more important than the words, and the
speaker than that which is spoken. But some excuse
the Master must have found, or perhaps he had even
struck upon some art to wrest this exposure to his own
advantage ; for after a time of coldness, it seemed as if
things went worse than ever between him and Mrs.
Henry. They were then constantly together. I would
not be thought to cast one shadow of blame, beyond
what is due to a half-wilful blindness, on that unfortu-
nate lady; but I do think, in these last days, she was
playing very near the fire ; and whether I be wrong or
not in that, one thing is sure and quite sufficient: Mr.
Henry thought so. The poor gentleman sat for days in
my room, so great a picture of distress that I could never
venture to address him ; yet it is to be thought he found
some comfort even in my presence and the knowledge
of my sympathy. There were times, too, when we

"3

THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

talked, and a strange manner of talk it was ; there was
never a person named, nor an individual circumstance
referred to ; yet we had the same matter in our minds,
and we were each aware of it. It is a strange art that
can thus be practised : to talk for hours of a thing, and
never name nor yet so much as hint at it. And I re-
member I wondered if it was by some such natural skill
that the Master made love to Mrs. Henry all day long (as
he manifestly did), yet never startled her into reserve.

To show how far affairs had gone with Mr. Henry, I
will give some words of his, uttered (as I have cause not
to forget) upon the 26th of February, 1757. It was un-
seasonable weather, a cast back into Winter: windless,
bitter cold, the world all white with rime, the sky low
and gray ; the sea black and silent like a quarry hole.
Mr. Henry sat close by the fire and debated (as was now
common with him) whether "a man" should "do
things," whether " interference was wise," and the like
general propositions, which each of us particularly ap-
plied. I was by the window looking out, when there
passed below me the Master, Mrs. Henry and Miss
Katharine, that now constant trio. The child was run-
ning to and fro delighted with the frost; the Master
spoke close in the lady's ear with what seemed (even
from so far) a devilish grace of insinuation ; and she on
her part looked on the ground like a person lost in lis-
tening. I broke out of my reserve.

"If I were you, Mr. Henry," said I, "I would deal
openly with my lord."

"Mackellar, Mackellar," said he, "you do not see
the weakness of my ground. I can carry no such base
thoughts to any one: to my father least of all; that

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PERSECUTIONS

would be to fall into the bottom of his scorn. The
weakness of my ground," he continued, "lies in my-
self, that I am not one who engages love. I have their
gratitude, they all tell me that : I have a rich estate of it !
But I am not present in their minds; they are moved
neither to think with me nor to think for me. There is
my loss ! " He got to his feet and trod down the fire.
" But some method must be found, Mackellar," said he,
looking at me suddenly over his shoulder; " some way
must be found. I am a man of a great deal of patience
— far too much — far too much. I begin to despise my-
self. And yet sure never was a man involved in such a
toil ! " He fell back to his brooding.

' ' Cheer up, " said I. "It will burst of itself. "
"I am far past anger now," says he, which had so
little coherency with my own observation, that I let
both fall.

ACCOUNT OF ALL THAT PASSED ON THE NIGHT
OF FEBRUARY 27TH, 1757

ON the evening of the interview referred to, the Mas-
ter went abroad ; he was abroad a great deal of the next
day also, that fatal 27th ; but where he went or what
he did, we never concerned ourselves to ask until next
day. If we had done so, and by any chance found out,
it might have changed all. But as all we did was done
in ignorance, and should be so judged, I shall so narrate
these passages as they appeared to us in the moment
of their birth, and reserve all that I since discovered for
the time of its discovery. For I have now come to one
of the dark parts of my narrative, and must engage the
reader's indulgence for my patron.

All the 27th, that rigorous weather endured : a stifling
cold; the folk passing about like smoking chimneys;
the wide hearth in the hall piled high with fuel ; some
of the spring birds that had already blundered north
into our neighbourhood, besieging the windows of the
house or trotting on the frozen turf like things distracted.
About noon there came a blink of sunshine; showing a
very pretty, wintry, frosty landscape of white hills and
woods, with Grail's lugger waiting for a wind under the
Craig Head, and the smoke mounting straight into the
air from every farm and cottage. With the coming of

116

THE NIGHT OF FEBRUARY 27™

night, the haze closed in overhead ; it fell dark and still
and starless and exceeding cold : a night the most un-
seasonable, fit for strange events.

Mrs. Henry withdrew, as was now her custom, very
early. We had set ourselves of late to pass the evening
with a game of cards; another mark that our visitor
was wearying mightily of the life at Durrisdeer; and
we had not been long at this, when my old lord slipped
from his place beside the fire, and was off without a
word to seek the warmth of bed. The three thus left
together had neither love nor courtesy to share ; not one
of us would have sat up one instant to oblige another;
yet from the influence of custom and as the cards had
just been dealt, we continued the form of playing out
the round. I should say we were late sitters; and
though my lord had departed earlier than was his cus-
tom, twelve was already gone some time upon the clock,
and the servants long ago in bed. Another thing I
should say, that although I never saw the Master any-
way affected with liquor, he had been drinking freely
and was perhaps (although he showed it not) a trifle
heated.

Anyway, he now practised one of his transitions; and
so soon as the door closed behind my lord, and without
the smallest change of voice, shifted from ordinary civil
talk into a stream of insult.

"My dear Henry, it is yours to play," he had been
saying, and now continued: " It is a very strange thing
how, even in so small a matter as a game of cards, you
display your rusticity. You play, Jacob, like a bonnet
laird, or a sailor in a tavern. The same dulness, the
same petty greed, cette lenteur d'hebete qui me fait rager;

117

THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

it is strange I should have such a brother. Even Square-
toes has a certain vivacity when his stake is imperilled ;
but the dreariness of a game with you, I positively lack
language to depict."

Mr. Henry continued to look at his cards, as though
very maturely considering some play; but his mind was
elsewhere.

"Dear God, will this never be done?" cries the Mas-
ter. " Quel lourdeau ! But why do I trouble you with
French expressions, which are lost on such an ignora-
mus ? A lourdeau, my dear brother, is as we might
say a bumpkin, a clown, a clodpole: a fellow without
grace, lightness, quickness; any gift of pleasing, any
natural brilliancy : such a one as you shall see, when you
desire, by looking in the mirror. I tell you these things
for your good I assure you; and besides, Squaretoes,"
(looking at me and stifling a yawn) "it is one of my
diversions in this very dreary spot, to toast you and your
master at the fire like chestnuts. I have great pleasure
in your case for I observe the nickname (rustic as it is)
has always the power to make you writhe. But some-
times I have more trouble with this dear fellow here,
who seems to have gone to sleep upon his cards. Do
you not see the applicability of the epithet I have just
explained, dear Henry ? Let me show you. For in-
stance, with all those solid qualities which I delight to
recognize in you, I never knew a woman who did not
prefer me — nor, I think," he continued, with the most
silken deliberation, " I think — who did not continue to
prefer me."

Mr. Henry laid down his cards. He rose to his feet
very softly, and seemed all the while like a person in

nS

THE NIGHT OF FEBRUARY 27™

deep thought. "You coward!" he said gently, as if
to himself. And then, with neither hurry nor any par-
ticular violence, he struck the Master in the mouth.

The Master sprang to his feet like one transfigured;
I had never seen the man so beautiful. " A blow! " he
cried. " I would not take a blow from God Almighty."

" Lower your voice," said Mr. Henry. " Do you wish
my father to interfere for you again ? "

"Gentlemen, gentlemen," I cried, and sought to come
between them.

The Master caught me by the shoulder, held me at
arm's length, and still addressing his brother: " Do you
know what this means ? " said he.

" It was the most deliberate act of my life," says Mr.
Henry.

"I must have blood, I must have blood for this,"
says the Master.

" Please God it shall be yours," said Mr. Henry; and
he went to the wall and took down a pair of swords that
hung there with others, naked. These he presented to
the Master by the points. " Mackellar shall see us play
fair," said Mr. Henry. " I think it very needful."

"You need insult me no more," said the Master,
taking one of the swords at random. "I have hated
you all my life."

"My father is but newly gone to bed," said Mr.
Henry. "We must go somewhere forth of the house."

"There is an excellent place in the long shrubbery,"
said the Master.

" Gentlemen," said I, "shame upon you both! Sons
of the same mother, would you turn against the life she
gave you?"

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THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

"Even so, Mackellar," said Mr. Henry, with the same
perfect quietude of manner he had shown throughout.

" It is what I will prevent," said I.

And now here is a blot upon my life. At these
words of mine, the Master turned his blade against my
bosom ; I saw the light run along the steel ; and I threw
up my arms and fell to my knees before him on the
floor. "No, no," I cried, like a baby.

" We shall have no more trouble with him," said the
Master. "It is a good thing to have a coward in the
house."

"We must have light," said Mr. Henry, as though
there had been no interruption.

"This trembler can bring a pair of candles," said the
Master.

To my shame be it said, I was still so blinded with
the flashing of that bare sword, that I volunteered to
bring a lantern.

"We do not need a 1-1-lantern, " says the Master,
mocking me. " There is no breath of air. Come, get
to your feet, take a pair of lights, and go before. I am
close behind with this — " making the blade glitter as
he spoke.

I took up the candlesticks and went before them, steps
that I would give my hand to recall ; but a coward is a
slave at the best; and even as I went, my teeth smote
each other in my mouth. It was as he had said, there
was no breath stirring: a windless stricture of frost had
bound the air; and as we went forth in the shine of the
candles, the blackness was like a roof over our heads.
Never a word was said, there was never a sound but
the creaking of our steps along the frozen path. The

THE NIGHT OF FEBRUARY 27™

cold of the night fell about me like a bucket of water;
I shook as I went with more than terror; but my com-
panions bare-headed like myself and fresh from the warm
hall, appeared not even conscious of the change.

" Here is the place," said the Master. "Set down the
candles."

I did as he bid me, and presently the flames went up
as steady as in a chamber in the midst of the frosted
trees, and I beheld these two brothers take their places.

"The light is something in my eyes," said the Master.

"I will give you every advantage," replied Mr. Henry,
shifting his ground, "for I think you are about to die."
He spoke rather sadly than otherwise, yet there was a
ring in his voice.

" Henry Durie," said the Master, "two words before
I begin. You are a fencer, you can hold a foil; you
little know what a change it makes to hold a sword!
And by that I know you are to fall. But see how strong
is my situation ! If you fall, I shift out of this country
to where my money is before me. If I fall, where are
you ? My father, your wife who is in love with me —
as you very well know — your child even who prefers
me to yourself : — how will these avenge me ! Had you
thought of that, dear Henry ? " He looked at his brother
with a smile ; then made a fencing-room salute.

Never a word said Mr. Henry, but saluted too, and the
swords rang together.

I am no judge of the play, my head besides was gone
with cold and fear and horror; but it seems that Mr.
Henry took and kept the upper hand from the engage-
ment, crowding in upon his foe with a contained and
glowing fury. Nearer and nearer he crept upon the man

121

THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

till, of a sudden, the Master leaped back with a little
sobbing oath ; and I believe the movement brought
the light once more against his eyes. To it they went
again, on the fresh ground; but now methought closer,
Mr. Henry pressing more outrageously, the Master be-
yond doubt with shaken confidence. For it is beyond
doubt he now recognized himself for lost, and had some
taste of the cold agony of fear ; or he had never attempted
the foul stroke. I cannot say I followed it, my untrained
eye was never quick enough to seize details, but it ap-
pears he caught his brother's blade with his left hand, a
practice not permitted. Certainly Mr. Henry only saved
himself by leaping on one side; as certainly the Master,
lunging in the air, stumbled on his knee, and before he
could move, the sword was through his body.

I cried out with a stifled scream, and ran in; but
the body was already fallen to the ground, where it
writhed a moment like a trodden worm, and then lay
motionless.

"Look at his left hand," said Mr. Henry.

" It is all bloody," said I.

" On the inside ? " said he.

" It is cut on the inside," said I.

"1 thought so," said he, and turned his back.

1 opened the man's clothes ; the heart was quite still,
it gave not a flutter.

"God forgive us, Mr. Henry! " said I. "He is dead."

" Dead ? " he repeated, a little stupidly ; and then with
a rising tone, "Dead? dead?" says he, and suddenly
cast his bloody sword upon the ground.

"What must we do?" said I. "Be yourself, sir.
It is too late now: you must be yourself."

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He turned and stared at me. "O, Mackellar! " says
he, and put his face in his hands.

I plucked him by the coat. " For God's sake, for all
our sakes, be more courageous! " said I. " What must
we do ?"

He showed me his face with the same stupid stare.
"Do?" says he. And with that his eye fell on the
body, and "O!" he cries out, with his hand to his
brow, as if he had never remembered ; and turning from
me, made off towards the house of Durrisdeer at a
strange stumbling run.

I stood a moment mused ; then it seemed to me my
duty lay most plain on the side of the living; and I ran
after him, leaving the candles on the frosty ground and
the body lying in their light under the trees. But run
as I pleased, he had the start of me, and was got into
the house, and up to the hall, where I found him stand-
ing before the fire with his face once more in his hands,
and as he so stood, he visibly shuddered.

"Mr. Henry, Mr. Henry," I said, "this will be the
ruin of us all."

"What is this that I have done ?" cries he, and then,
looking upon me with a countenance that I shall never
forget, "Who is to tell the old man ?" he said.

The word knocked at my heart; but it was no time
for weakness. I went and poured him out a glass of
brandy. "Drink that," said I, "drink it down." I
forced him to swallow it like a child; and, being still
perished with the cold of the night, I followed his ex-
ample.

" It has to be told, Mackellar," said he. " It must be
told." And he fell suddenly in a seat — my old lord's

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seat by the chimney side — and was shaken with dry
sobs.

Dismay came upon my soul; it was plain there was
no help in Mr. Henry. "Well," said I, "sit there, and
leave all to me." And taking a candle in my hand, I
set forth out of the room in the dark house. There was
no movement; I must suppose that all had gone unob-
served; and I was now to consider how to smuggle
through the rest with the like secrecy. It was no hour
for scruples ; and I opened my lady's door without so
much as a knock, and passed boldly in.

"There is some calamity happened," she cried, sit-
ting up in bed.

"Madam," said I, "I will go forth again into the
passage; and do you get as quickly as you can into your
clothes. There is much to be done."

She troubled me with no questions, nor did she keep
me waiting. Ere I had time to prepare a word of that
which I must say to her, she was on the threshold sign-
ing me to enter.

"Madam," said I, "if you cannot be very brave, I
must go elsewhere; for if no one helps me to-night,
there is an end of the house of Durrisdeer."

"I am very courageous," said she ; and she looked at me
with a sort of smile, very painful to see, but very brave too.

" It has come to a duel," said I.

" A duel ?" she repeated. "A duel! Henry and "

" And the Master," said I. "Things have been borne
so long, things of which you know nothing, which you
would not believe if I should tell. But to-night it went
too far, and when he insulted you "

"Stop, "said she. "He? Who?"
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"O madam!" cried I, my bitterness breaking forth,
" do you ask me such a question ? Indeed, then, I may
go elsewhere for help; there is none here! "

" I do not know in what I have offended you," said
she. " Forgive me; put me out of this suspense."

But I dared not tell her yet ; I felt not sure of her ; and
at the doubt and under the sense of impotence it brought
with it, I turned on the poor woman with something
near to anger.

"Madam," said I, "we are speaking of two men:
one of them insulted you, and you ask me which. I
will help you to the answer. With one of these men
you have spent all your hours : has the other reproached
you ? To one you have been always kind ; to the other,
as God sees me and judges between us two, I think not
always: has his love ever failed you? To-night one
of these two men told the other, in my hearing, — the
hearing of a hired stranger, — that you were in love with
him. Before I say one word, you shall answer your
own question : Which was it ? Nay, madam, you shall
answer me another: If it has come to this dreadful end,
whose fault is it ? "

She stared at me like one dazzled. "Good God!"
she said once, in a kind of bursting exclamation; and
then a second time, in a whisper to herself, "Great
God! — In the name of mercy, Mackellar, what is
wrong ? " she cried. " I am made up; I can hear all."

' ' You are not fit to hear, " said I. ' ' Whatever it was,
you shall say first it was your fault."

"Oh!" she cried, with a gesture of wringing her
hands, "this man will drive me mad! Can you not
put me out of your thoughts ? "

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"I think not once of you," I cried. "I think of none
but my dear unhappy master."

"Ah!" she cried, with her hand to her heart, "is
Henry dead ? "

"Lower your voice," said I. "The other."

I saw her sway like something stricken by the. wind;
and I know not whether in cowardice or misery, turned
aside and looked upon the floor. "These are dreadful
tidings," said I at length, when her silence began to put
me in some fear; "and you and I behove to be the more
bold if the house is to be saved." Still she answered
nothing. "There is Miss Katharine besides," I added:
"unless we bring this matter through, her inheritance
is like to be of shame."

I do not know if it was the thought of her child or
the naked word shame, that gave her deliverance; at
least I had no sooner spoken than a sound passed her
lips, the like of it I never heard ; it was as though she had
lain buried under a hill and sought to move that burthen.
And the next moment she had found a sort of voice.

"It was a fight, "she whispered. "It was nut ?"

and she paused upon the word.

"It was a fair fight on my dear master's part," said I.
"As for the other, he was slain in the very act of a foul
stroke."

" Not now! " she cried.

"Madam," said I, "hatred of that man glows in my
bosom like a burning fire; ay, even now he is dead.
God knows, I would have stopped the fighting, had I
dared. It is my shame I did not. But when I saw him
fall, if I could have spared one thought from pitying of
my master, it had been to exult in that deliverance. "

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I do not know if she marked ; but her next words
were: "My lord ?"

"That shall be my part," said I.

"You will not speak to him as you have to me ?" she
asked.

"Madam," said I, "have you not someone else to
think of? Leave my lord to me."

"Some one else ?" she repeated.

"Your husband," said I. She looked at me with a
countenance illegible. " Are you going to turn your
back on him ? " I asked.

Still she looked at me; then her hand went to her
heart again. "No, "said she.

"God bless you for that word!" I said. "Go to
him now where he sits in the hall; speak to him — it
matters not what you say ; give him your hand ; say,
' I know all ; ' — if God gives you grace enough, say,
'Forgive me."

"God strengthen you, and make you merciful," said
she. " I will go to my husband."

" Let me light you there," said I, taking up the candle.

"I will find my way in the dark," she said, with a
shudder, and I think the shudder was at me.

So we separated, she downstairs to where a little light
glimmered in the hall-door, I along the passage to my
lord's room. It seems hard to say why, but I could not
burst in on the old man as I could on the young woman ;
with whatever reluctance, I must knock. But his old
slumbers were light, or perhaps he slept not; and at the
first summons I was bidden enter.

He too sat up in bed; very aged and bloodless he
looked ; and whereas he had a certain largeness of ap-

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pearance when dressed for daylight, he now seemed
frail and little, and his face (the wig being laid aside)
not bigger than a child's. This daunted me; nor less,
the haggard surmise of misfortune in his eye. Yet his
voice was even peaceful as he inquired my errand. I
set my candle down upon a chair, leaned on the bed-
foot, and looked at him.

" Lord Durrisdeer," said I, "it is very well known to
you that I am a partisan in your family."

' ' I hope we are none of us partisans, " said he. ' ' That
you love my son sincerely, I have always been glad to
recognize."

" O, my lord, we are past the hour of these civilities,"
I replied. " If we are to save anything out of the fire,
we must look the fact in its bare countenance. A parti-
san I am ; partisans we have all been ; it is as a partisan
that I am here in the middle of the night to plead before
you. Hear me; before I go, I will tell you why."

"I would always hear you, Mr. Mackellar," said he,
" and that at any hour, whether of the day or night, for
I would be always sure you had a reason. You spoke
once before to very proper purpose ; I have not forgotten
that."

" I am here to plead the cause of my master," I said.
" I need not tell you how he acts. You know how he
is placed. You know with what generosity he has
always met your other — met your wishes," I corrected
myself, stumbling at that name of son. " You know —
you must know — what he has suffered — what he has
suffered about his wife."

"Mr. Mackellar!" cried my lord, rising in bed like
a bearded lion.

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" You said you would hear me," I continued. "What
you do not know, what you should know, one of the
things I am here to speak of — is the persecution he
must bear in private. Your back is not turned, before
one whom I dare not name to you falls upon him with
the most unfeeling taunts; twits him — pardon me, my
lord! twits him with your partiality, calls him Jacob,
calls him clown, pursues him with ungenerous raillery,
not to be borne by man. And let but one of you ap-
pear, instantly he changes ; and my master must smile
and courtesy to the man who has been feeding him
with insults; I know — for I have shared in some of it,
and I tell you the life is insupportable. All these
months it has endured ; it began with the man's land-
ing ; it was by the name of Jacob that my master was
greeted the first night."

My lord made a movement as if to throw aside the

clothes and rise. "If there be any truth in this "

said he.

" Do I look like a man lying ? " I interrupted, check-
ing him with my hand.

" You should have told me at first," he said.

"Ah, my lord, indeed I should, and you may well
hate the face of this unfaithful servant! " I cried.

"I will take order," said he, "at once." And again
made the movement to rise.

Again I checked him. "I have not done," said I.
"Would God I had! All this my dear, unfortunate
patron has endured without help or countenance. Your
own best word, my lord, was only gratitude. Oh, but
he was your son, too ! He had no other father. He was
hated in the country, God knows how unjustly. He had

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a loveless marriage. He stood on all hands without af-
fection or support, dear, generous, ill-fated, noble heart."

"Your tears do you much honour and me much
shame," says my lord, with a palsied trembling. " But
you do me some injustice. Henry has been ever dear
to me, very dear. James (I do not deny it, Mr. Mac-
kellar), James is perhaps dearer; you have not seen my
James in quite a favourable light; he has suffered under
his misfortunes ; and we can only remember how great
and how unmerited these were. And even now his is
the more affectionate nature. But I will not speak of
him. All that you say of Henry is most true ; I do not
wonder, I know him to be very magnanimous; you
will say I trade upon the knowledge? It is possible;
there are dangerous virtues ; virtues that tempt the en-
croacher. Mr. Mackellar, I will make it up to him; I
will take order with all this. I have been weak ; and
what is worse, I have been dull."

" I must not hear you blame yourself, my lord, with
that which I have yet to tell upon my conscience," I
replied. "You have not been weak; you have been
abused by a devilish dissembler. You saw yourself
how he had deceived you in the matter of his danger;
he has deceived you throughout in every step of his
career. I wish to pluck him from your heart; I wish
to force your eyes upon your other son ; ah, you have
a son there!"

"No, no," said he, "two sons — I have two sons."

I made some gesture of despair that struck him; he
looked at me with a changed face. "There is much
worse behind ? " he asked, his voice dying as it rose
upon the question.

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THE NIGHT OF FEBRUARY 27™

"Much worse," I answered. "This night he said
these words to Mr. Henry : ' I have never known a
woman who did not prefer me to you, and I think who
did not continue to prefer me.'"

"I will hear nothing against my daughter," he cried;
and from his readiness to stop me in this direction, I
conclude his eyes were not so dull as I had fancied, and
he had looked on not without anxiety upon the siege of
Mrs. Henry.

"I think not of blaming her," cried I. "It is not
that. These words were said in my hearing to Mr.
Henry; and if you find them not yet plain enough,
these others but a little after: 'Your wife who is in
love with me.' '

" They have quarrelled ?" he said.

I nodded.

"I must fly to them," he said, beginning once again
to leave his bed.

"No, no!" I cried, holding forth my hands.

" You do not know," said he. " These are danger-
ous words."

"Will nothing make you understand, my lord?"
said I.

His eyes besought me for the truth.

I flung myself on my knees by the bedside. " O my
lord," cried I, "think on him you have left, think of
this poor sinner whom you begot, whom your wife
bore to you, whom we have none of us strengthened
as we could ; think of him, not of yourself ; he is the
other sufferer — think of him! That is the door for
sorrow, Christ's door, God's door: O, it stands open.
Think of him, even as he thought of you. Who is to

'3'

THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

tell the old man? — these were his words. It was for
that I came; that is why I am here pleading at your
feet."

" Let me get up," he cried, thrusting me aside, and
was on his feet before myself. His voice shook like a
sail in the wind, yet he spoke with a good loudness;
his face was like the snow, but his eyes were steady
anddry. "Here is too much speech!" said he. "Where
was it ? "

" In the shrubbery," said I.

" And Mr. Henry ? " he asked. And when I had told
him he knotted his old face in thought.

" And Mr. James ?" says he.

"I have left him lying," said I, "beside the can-
dles."

" Candles ? " he cried. And with that he ran to the
window, opened it, and looked abroad. " It might be
spied from the road."

"Where none goes by at such an hour," I objected.

"It makes no matter, "he said. "One might. Hark!"
cries he. " What is that ?"

It was the sound of men very guardedly rowing in the
bay ; and I told him so.

' ' The freetraders, " said my lord. ' ' Run at once, Mac-
kellar, put these candles out. I will dress in the mean-
while ; and when you return we can debate on what is
wisest."

I groped my way downstairs, and out at the door.
From quite a far way off a sheen was visible, making
points of brightness in the shrubbery ; in so black a night
it might have been remarked for miles ; and I blamed my-
self bitterly for my incaution : How much more sharply

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THE NIGHT OF FEBRUARY 27™

when I reached the place! One of the candlesticks was
overthrown, and that taper quenched. The other burned
steadily by itself, and made a broad space of light upon
the frosted ground. All within that circle seemed, by
the force of contrast and the overhanging blackness,
brighter than by day. And there was the bloodstain
in the midst; and a little further off Mr. Henry's sword,
the pommel of which was of silver; but of the body not
a trace. My heart thumped upon my ribs, the hair stirred
upon my scalp, as I stood there staring; so strange was
the sight, so dire the fears it wakened. I looked right
and left; the ground was so hard it told no story. I
stood and listened till my ears ached, but the night was
hollow about me like an empty church ; not even a ripple
stirred upon the shore ; it seemed you might have heard
a pin drop in the county.

I put the candle out, and the blackness fell about me
groping dark ; it was like a crowd surrounding me ; and
I went back to the house of Durrisdeer, with my chin
upon my shoulder, startling, as I went, with craven sup-
positions. In the door a figure moved to meet me, and
1 had near screamed with terror ere I recognized Mrs.
Henry.

" Have you told him ? " says she.

" It was he who sent me," said I. "It is gone. But
why are you here ? "

" It is gone 1 " she repeated. " What is gone ? "

"The body, "said I. "Why are you not with your
husband ?"

" Gone ?" said she. " You cannot have looked. Come
back."

"There is no light now," said I. " I dare not."
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THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

"I can see in the dark. I have been standing here
so long — so long," said she. "Come; give me your
hand."

We returned to the shrubbery hand in hand, and to
the fatal place.

" Take care of the blood," said I.

" Blood ?" she cried, and started violently back.

"I suppose it will be," said I. "1 am like a blind
man."

"No, "said she, "nothing! Have you not dreamed?"

"Ah, would to God we had! " cried I.

She spied the sword, picked it up, and, seeing the
blood, let it fall again with her hands thrown wide.
"Ah! " she cried. And then, with an instant courage,
handled it the second time and thrust it to the hilt into
the frozen ground. "I will take it back and clean it
properly," says she, and again looked about her on all
sides. "It cannot be that he was dead?" she added.

"There was no flutter of his heart," said I, and then
remembering : " Why are you not with your husband ? "

" It is no use," said she, " he will not speak to me."

" Not speak to you ? " I repeated. " O, you have not
tried!"

"You have a right to doubt me," she replied, with a
gentle dignity.

At this, for the first time, I was seized with sorrow for
her. ' ' God knows, madam, " I cried, ' ' God knows I am
not so hard as I appear ; on this dreadful night, who can
veneer his words ? But I am a friend to all who are not
Henry Durie's enemies!"

" It is hard, then, you should hesitate about his wife,"
said she.

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THE NIGHT OF FEBRUARY 27™

I saw all at once, like the rending of a veil, how nobly
she had borne this unnatural calamity, and how gener-
ously my reproaches.

"We must go back and tell this to my lord," said I.

" Him I cannot face," she cried.

"You will find him the least moved of all of us,"
said I.

"And yet I cannot face him," said she.

" Well," said I, "you can return to Mr. Henry; I will
see my lord."

As we walked back, I bearing the candlesticks, she
the sword, — a strange burthen for that woman, —
she had another thought. "Should we tell Henry?"
she asked.

" Let my lord decide," said I.

My lord was nearly dressed when I came to his cham-
ber. He heard me with a frown. "The freetraders,"
said he. " But whether dead or alive ? "

"I thought him — " said I, and paused, ashamed of
the word.

" I know; but you may very well have been in error.
Why should they remove him if not living ? " he asked.
" O, here is a great door of hope. It must be given out
that he departed — as he came — without any note of
preparation. We must save all scandal."

I saw he had fallen, like the rest of us, to think mainly
of the house. Now that all the living members of the
family were plunged in irremediable sorrow, it was
strange how we turned to that conjoint abstraction of
the family itself, and sought to bolster up the airy noth-
ing of its reputation : not the Dunes only, but the hired
steward himself.

•35

THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

"Are we to tell Mr. Henry ?" I asked him.

" I will see," said he. " I am going first to visit him,
then I go forth with you to view the shrubbery and
consider."

We went downstairs into the hall. Mr. Henry sat
by the table with his head upon his hand, like a man of
stone. His wife stood a little back from him, her hand
at her mouth ; it was plain she could not move him.
My old lord walked very steadily to where his son was
sitting; he had a steady countenance, too, but methought
a little cold ; when he was come quite up, he held out
both his hands and said: "My son! "

With a broken, strangled cry, Mr. Henry leaped up
and fell on his father's neck, crying and weeping, the
most pitiful sight that ever a man witnessed. " O
father," he cried, "you know I loved him; you know
I loved him in the beginning; I could have died for him
— you know that! I would have given my life for him
and you. O say you know that ! O say you can for-
give me! O father, father, what have I done, what
have I done ? and we used to be bairns together! " and
wept and sobbed, and fondled the old man, and clutched
him about the neck, with the passion of a child in terror.

And then he caught sight of his wife, you would have
thought for the first time, where she stood weeping to
hear him; and in a moment had fallen at her knees.
"And O my lass," he cried, "you must forgive me,
too! Not your husband — I have only been the ruin of
your life. But you knew me when I was a lad ; there
was no harm in Henry Durie then ; he meant aye to be
a friend to you. It's him — it's the old bairn that played
with you — O can ye never, never forgive him?"

THE NIGHT OF FEBRUARY 27™

Throughout all this my lord was like a cold, kind
spectator with his wits about him. At the first cry,
which was indeed enough to call the house about us, he
had said to me over his shoulder, "Close the door."
And now he nodded to himself.

"We may leave him to his wife now," says he.
" Bring a light, Mr. Mackellar."

Upon my going forth again with my lord, I was aware
of a strange phenomenon ; for though it was quite dark,
and the night not yet old, methought I smelt the morn-
ing. At the same time there went a tossing through
the branches of the evergreens, so that they sounded
like a quiet sea; and the air puffed at times against our
faces, and the flame of the candle shook. We made the
m.ore speed, I believe, being surrounded by this bustle;
visited the scene of the duel, where my lord looked upon
the blood with stoicism ; and passing farther on toward
the landing-place, came at last upon some evidences
of the truth. For first of all, where there was a pool
across the path, the ice had been trodden in, plainly by
more than one man's weight; next, and but a little fur-
ther, a young tree was broken ; and down by the land-
ing-place, where the trader's boats were usually beached,
another stain of blood marked where the body must
have been infallibly set down to rest the bearers.

This stain we set ourselves to wash away with the
sea- water, carrying it in my lord's hat ; and as we were
thus engaged, there came up a sudden, moaning gust
and left us instantly benighted.

" It will come to snow," says my lord ; " and the best
thing that we could hope. Let us go back now ; we
can do nothing in the dark."

'37

THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

As we went houseward, the wind being again sub-
sided, we were aware of a strong pattering noise about
us in the night; and when we issued from the shelter
of the trees, we found it raining smartly.

Throughout the whole of this, my lord's clearness of
mind, no less than his activity of body, had not ceased
to minister to my amazement. He set the crown upon
it in the council we held on our return. The freetrad-
ers had certainly secured the Master, though whether
dead or alive we were still left to our conjectures ; the
rain would, long before day, wipe out all marks of the
transaction; by this we must profit: the Master had
unexpectedly come after the fall of night, it must now
be given out he had as suddenly departed before the
break of day; and to make all this plausible, it now
only remained for me to mount into the man's cham-
ber, and pack and conceal his baggage. True, we still
lay at the discretion of the traders; but that was the
incurable weakness of our guilt.

I heard him, as I said, with wonder, and hastened to
obey. Mr. and Mrs. Henry were gone from the hall;
my lord, for warmth's sake, hurried to his bed; there
was still no sign of stir among the servants, and as I
went up the tower stair, and entered the dead man's
room, a horror of solitude weighed upon my mind. To
my extreme surprise, it was all in the disorder of de-
parture. Of his three portmanteaux, two were ready
locked, the third lay open and near full. At once there
flashed upon me some suspicion of the truth. The man
had been going after all ; he had but waited upon Crail,
as Crail waited upon the wind ; early in the night, the
seamen had perceived the weather changing; the boat

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THE NIGHT OF FEBRUARY 27™

had come to give notice of the change and call the pas-
senger aboard, and the boat's crew had stumbled on
him lying in his blood. Nay, and there was more be-
hind. This prearranged departure shed some light upon
his inconceivable insult of the night before; it was a
parting shot ; hatred being no longer checked by policy.
And for another thing, the nature of that insult, and the
conduct of Mrs. Henry, pointed to one conclusion : which
I have never verified, and can now never verify until
the great assize : the conclusion that he had at last for-
gotten himself, had gone too far in his advances, and
had been rebuffed. It can never be verified, as I say;
but as I thought of it that morning among his baggage,
the thought was sweet to me like honey.

Into the open portmanteau I dipped a little ere I
closed it. The most beautiful lace and linen, many suits
of those fine plain clothes in which he loved to appear;
a book or two, and those of the best, Caesar's "Com-
mentaries," a volume of Mr. Hobbes, the " Henriade"
of M. de Voltaire, a book upon the Indies, one on the
mathematics, far beyond where I have studied: these
were what I observed with very mingled feelings. But
in the open portmanteau, no papers of any description.
This set me musing. It was possible the man was dead ;
but, since the traders had carried him away, not likely.
It was possible he might still die of his wound ; but it
was also possible he might not. And in this latter case
I was determined to have the means of some defence.

One after another I carried his portmanteaux to a loft
in the top of the house which we kept locked ; went to
my own room for my keys, and, returning to the loft,
had the gratification to find two that fitted pretty well.

139

THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

In one of the portmanteaux there was a shagreen letter-
case, which I cut open with my knife ; and thenceforth
(so far as any credit went) the man was at my mercy.
Here was a vast deal of gallant correspondence, chiefly
of his Paris days ; and what was more to the purpose,
here were the copies of his own reports to the English
secretary, and the originals of the secretary's answers :
a most damning series : such as to publish would be to
wreck the Master's honour and to set a price upon his
life. I chuckled to myself as I ran through the doc-
uments ; I rubbed my hands, I sang aloud in my glee.
Day found me at the pleasing task ; nor did I then remit
my diligence, except in so far as I went to the window
— looked out for a moment, to see the frost quite gone,
the world turned black again, and the rain and the wind
driving in the bay — and to assure myself that the lug-
ger was gone from its anchorage, and the Master (whe-
ther dead or alive) now tumbling on the Irish Sea.

It is proper I should add in this place the very little
I have subsequently angled out upon the doings of that
night. It took me a long while to gather it; for we
dared not openly ask, and the freetraders regarded me
with enmity, if not with scorn. It was near six months
before we even knew for certain that the man survived ;
and it was years before I learned from one of Grail's men,
turned publican on his ill-gotten gain, some particulars
which smack to me of truth. It seems the traders found
the Master struggled on one elbow, and now staring
round him, and now gazing at the candle or at his hand
which was all bloodied, like a man stupid. Upon their
coming, he would seem to have found his mind, bade
them carry him aboard and hold their tongues ; and on

140

THE NIGHT OF FEBRUARY 27™

the captain asking how he had come in such a pickle,
replied with a burst of passionate swearing, and incon-
tinently fainted. They held some debate, but they were
momently looking for a wind, they were highly paid to
smuggle him to France, and did not care to delay. Be-
sides which, he was well enough liked by these abomi-
nable wretches : they supposed him under capital sen-
tence, knew not in what mischief he might have got his
wound, and judged it a piece of good nature to remove
him out of the way of danger. So he was taken aboard,
recovered on the passage over, and was set ashore a con-
valescent at the Havre de Grace. What is truly notable :
he said not a word to anyone of the duel, and not a
trader knows to this day in what quarrel, or by the hand
of what adversary, he fell. With any other man I should
have set this down to natural decency; with him, to
pride. He could not bear to avow, perhaps even to
himself, that he had been vanquished by one whom he
had so much insulted and whom he so cruelly despised.

141

SUMMARY OF EVENTS DURING THE MASTER'S
SECOND ABSENCE

OF the heavy sickness which declared itself next
morning, I can think with equanimity as of the last un-
mingled trouble that befell my master; and even that
was perhaps a mercy in disguise; for what pains of the
body could equal the miseries of his mind ? Mrs. Henry
and I had the watching by the bed. My old lord called
from time to time to take the news, but would not usu-
ally pass the door. Once, I remember, when hope was
nigh gone, he stepped to the bedside, looked awhile in
his son's face, and turned away with a singular gesture
of the head and hand thrown up, that remains upon my
mind as something tragic ; such grief and such a scorn
of sublunary things were there expressed. But the most
of the time, Mrs. Henry and I had the room to ourselves,
taking turns by night and bearing each other company
by day, for it was dreary watching. Mr. Henry, his
shaven head bound in a napkin, tossed to and fro with-
out remission, beating the bed with his hands. His
tongue never lay; his voice ran continuously like a
river; so that my heart was weary with the sound of it.
It was notable, and to me inexpressibly mortifying, that
he spoke all the while on matters of no import: comings
and goings, horses — which he was ever calling to have

142

THE MASTER'S SECOND ABSENCE

saddled, thinking perhaps (the poor soul!) that he might
ride away from his discomfort — matters of the garden,
the salmon nets, and (what I particularly raged to hear)
continually of his affairs, cyphering figures and holding
disputation with the tenantry. Never a word of his
father or his wife, nor of the Master, save only for a day
or two, when his mind dwelled entirely in the past and
he supposed himself a boy again and upon some inno-
cent child's play with his brother. What made this the
more affecting : it appeared the Master had then run some
peril of his life, for there was a cry — " O, Jamie will be
drowned — O, save Jamie!" which he came over and
over with a great deal of passion.

This, I say, was affecting, both to Mrs. Henry and
myself ; but the balance of my master's wanderings did
him little justice. It seemed he had set out to justify
his brother's calumnies; as though he was bent to prove
himself a man of a dry nature, immersed in money-get-
ting. Had I been there alone, I would not have troubled
my thumb ; but all the while, as I listened, I was esti-
mating the effect on the man's wife, and telling myself
that he fell lower every day. I was the one person on
the surface of the globe that comprehended him, and I
was bound there should be yet another. Whether he
was to die there and his virtues perish ; or whether he
should save his days and come back to that inheritance
of sorrows, his right memory : I was bound he should
be heartily lamented in the one case and unaffectedly
welcomed in the other, by the person he loved the
most, his wife.

Finding no occasion of free speech, I bethought me at
last of a kind of documentary disclosure ; and for some

>43

THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

nights, when I was off duty and should have been
asleep, I gave my time to the preparation of that which
I may call my budget. But this I found to be the easiest
portion of my task, and that which remained, namely
the presentation to my lady, almost more than I had
fortitude to overtake. Several days I went about with
my papers under my arm, spying for some juncture of
talk to serve as introduction. I will not deny but that
some offered ; only when they did, my tongue clove to
the roof of my mouth ; and I think I might have been
carrying about my packet till this day, had not a for-
tunate accident delivered me from all my hesitations.
This was at night, when I was once more leaving the
room, the thing not yet done, and myself in despair at
my own cowardice.

"What do you carry about with you, Mr. Mackel-
lar?" she asked. "These last days, I see you always
coming in and out with the same armful."

I returned upon my steps without a word, laid the
papers before her on the table, and left her to her read-
ing. Of what that was, I am now to give you some
idea; and the best will be to reproduce a letter of my
own which came first in the budget and of which (ac-
cording to an excellent habitude) I have preserved the
scroll. It will show too the moderation of my part in
these affairs, a thing which some have called recklessly
in question.

"Durrisdeer.

"1757.
" Honoured Madam,

" I trust I would not step out of my place without
occasion; but I see how much evil has flowed in the

,144

THE MASTER'S SECOND ABSENCE

past to all of your noble house from that unhappy and
secretive fault of reticency, and the papers on which I
venture to call your attention are family papers and all
highly worthy your acquaintance.

" I append a schedule with some necessary observa-
tions,

"And am,

" Honoured Madam,
" Your ladyship's obliged, obedient servant,

" EPHRAIM MACKELLAR.

"Schedule of Papers.

"A. Scroll often letters from Ephraim Mackellar to
the Hon. James Durie, Esq., by courtesy Master of Bal-
lantrae during the latter's residence in Paris : under
dates . . . " (follow the dates) . . . "Nota: to be
read in connection with B. and C.

" B. Seven original letters from the said Mr of Bal-
lantrae to the said E. Mackellar, under dates ..."
(follow the dates).

"C. Three original letters from the said Mr of Bal-
lantrae to the Hon. Henry Durie, Esq., under dates
. . ." ( follow the dates) . . . "Nota: given me
by Mr. Henry to answer : copies of my answers A 4,
A 5, and A 9 of these productions. The purport of
Mr. Henry's communications, of which I can find no
scroll, may be gathered from those of his unnatural
brother.

" D. A correspondence, original and scroll, extend-
ing over a period of three years till January of the cur-
rent year, between the said Mr of Ballantrae and

, Under Secretary of State; twenty-seven in all.

Nota : found among the Master's papers."

'45

THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

Weary as I was with watching and distress of mind,
it was impossible for me to sleep. All night long, I
walked in my chamber, revolving what should be the
issue and sometimes repenting the temerity of my im-
mixture in affairs so private ; and with the first peep of
the morning, I was at the sick-room door. Mrs. Henry
had thrown open the shutters and even the window,
for the temperature was mild. She looked steadfastly
before her; where was nothing to see, or only the
blue of the morning creeping among woods. Upon
the stir of my entrance, she did not so much as turn
about her face: a circumstance from which I augured
very ill.

"Madam," I began; and then again, " Madam ; " but
could make no more of it. Nor yet did Mrs. Henry
come to my assistance with a word. In this pass I began
gathering up the papers where they lay scattered on the
table; and the first thing that struck me, their bulk ap-
peared to have diminished. Once I ran them through,
and twice; but the correspondence with the secretary
of state, on which I had reckoned so much against the
future, was nowhere to be found. I looked in the chim-
ney ; amid the smouldering embers, black ashes of paper
fluttered in the draught; and at that my timidity van-
ished.

"Good God, madam," cried I, in a voice not fitting
for a sick-room, "Good God, madam, what have you
done with my papers ? "

"I have burned them," said Mrs. Henry, turning
about. "It is enough, it is too much, that you and I
have seen them."

"This is a fine night's work that you have done!"
146

THE MASTER'S SECOND ABSENCE

cried I. "And all to save the reputation of a man that
ate bread by the shedding of his comrades' blood, as I
do by the shedding ink."

"To save the reputation of that family in which you
are a servant, Mr. Mackellar," she returned, "and for
which you have already done so much."

"It is a family I will not serve much longer," I cried,
"for I am driven desperate. You have stricken the
sword out of my hands ; you have left us all defenceless,
I had always these letters I could shake over his head ;
and now — what is to do? We are so falsely situate,
we dare not show the man the door; the country would
fly on fire against us ; and I had this one hold upon him
— and now it is gone — now he may come back to-
morrow, and we must all sit down with him to dinner,
go for a stroll with him on the terrace, or take a hand
at cards, of all things, to divert his leisure! No, madam ;
God forgive you, if he can find it in his heart; for I can-
not find it in mine."

"I wonder to find you so simple, Mr. Mackellar,"
said Mrs. Henry. "What does this man value reputa-
tion ? But he knows how high we prize it; he knows
we would rather die than make these letters public ; and
do you suppose he would not trade upon the knowledge ?
What you call your sword, Mr. Mackellar, and which
had been one indeed against a man of any remnant of
propriety, would have been but a sword of paper against
him. He would smile in your face at such a threat. He
stands upon his degradation, he makes that his strength ;
it is in vain to struggle with such characters." She cried
out this last a little desperately, and then with more
quiet: "No, Mr. Mackellar, I have thought upon this

M7

THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

matter all night, and there is no way out of it. Papers
or no papers, the door of this house stands open for
him ; he is the rightful heir, forsooth ! If we sought to
exclude him, all would redound against poor Henry,
and I should see him stoned again upon the streets.
Ah! if Henry dies, it is a different matter! They have
broke the entail for their own good purposes ; the estate
goes to my daughter; and I shall see who sets a foot
upon it. But if Henry lives, my poor Mr. Mackellar,
and that man returns, we must suffer: only this time,
it will be together."

On the whole, I was well pleased with Mrs. Henry's
attitude of mind ; nor could I even deny there was some
cogency in that which she advanced about the papers.

" Let us say no more about it," said I. "I can only
be sorry I trusted a lady with the originals, which was
an unbusinesslike proceeding at the best. As for what
I said of leaving the service of the family, it was spoken
with the tongue only; and you may set your mind at
rest. I belong to Durrisdeer, Mrs. Henry, as if I had
been born there."

I must do her the justice to say she seemed perfectly
relieved ; so that we began this morning, as we were to
continue for so many years, on a proper ground of mutual
indulgence and respect.

The same day, which was certainly prededicate to joy,
we observed the first signal of recovery in Mr. Henry;
and about three of the following afternoon, he found his
mind again, recognizing me by name with the strongest
evidences of affection. Mrs. Henry was also in the room,
at the bed foot : but it did not appear that he observed
her. And indeed (the fever being gone) he was so weak

148

THE MASTER'S SECOND ABSENCE

that he made but the one effort and sank again into a
lethargy. The course of his restoration was now slow
but equal ; every day, his appetite improved ; every week,
we were able to remark an increase both of strength
and flesh ; and before the end of the month, he was out
of bed and had even begun to be carried in his chair
upon the terrace.

It was perhaps at this time that Mrs. Henry and I
were the most uneasy in mind. Apprehension for his
days was at an end ; and a worse fear succeeded. Every
day we drew consciously nearer to a day of reckoning;
and the days passed on, and still there was nothing.
Mr. Henry bettered in strength, he held long talks with
us on a great diversity of subjects, his father came and
sat with him and went again ; and still there was no
reference to the late tragedy or to the former troubles
which had brought it on. Did he remember, and con-
ceal his dreadful knowledge ? or was the whole blotted
from his mind ? this was the problem that kept us
watching and trembling all day when we were in his
company, and held us awake at night when we were
in our lonely beds. We knew not even which alterna-
tive to hope for, both appearing so unnatural and point-
ing so directly to an unsound brain. Once this fear
offered, I observed his conduct with sedulous particu-
larity. Something of the child he exhibited : a cheerful-
ness quite foreign to his previous character, an interest
readily aroused, and then very tenacious, in small mat-,
ters which he had heretofore despised. When he was
stricken down, I was his only confidant, and I may say
his only friend, and he was on terms of division with his
wife ; upon his recovery, all was changed, the past for-

149

THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

gotten, the wife first and even single in his thoughts.
He turned to her with all his emotions like a child to its
mother, and seemed secure of sympathy; called her in
all his needs with something of that querulous familiar-
ity that marks a certainty of indulgence; and I must
say, in justice to the woman, he was never disappointed.
To her, indeed, this changed behaviour was inexpres-
sibly affecting; and I think she felt it secretly as a re-
proach; so that I have seen her, in early days, escape
out of the room that she might indulge herself in weep-
ing. But to me, the change appeared not natural ; and
viewing it along with all the rest, I began to wonder,
with many head-shakings, whether his reason were
perfectly erect.

As this doubt stretched over many years, endured
indeed until my master's death, and clouded all our
subsequent relations, I may well consider of it more at
large. When he was able to resume some charge of
his affairs, I had many opportunities to try him with
precision. There was no lack of understanding, nor
yet of authority ; but the old continuous interest had
quite departed; he grew readily fatigued and fell to
yawning; and he carried into money relations, where it
is certainly out of place, a facility that bordered upon
slackness. True, since we had no longer the exactions
of the Master to contend against, there was the less oc-
casion to raise strictness into principle or do battle for a
farthing. True again, there was nothing excessive in
these relaxations, or I would have been no party to
them. But the whole thing marked a change, very
slight yet very perceptible; and though no man could
say my master had gone at all out of his mind, no man

150

THE MASTER'S SECOND ABSENCE

could deny that he had drifted from his character. It
was the same to the end, with his manner and appear-
ance. Some of the heat of the fever lingered in his
veins: his movements a little hurried, his speech nota-
bly more voluble, yet neither truly amiss. His whole
mind stood open to happy impressions, welcoming
these and making much of them ; but the smallest sug-
gestion of trouble or sorrow he received with visible
impatience and dismissed again with immediate relief.
It was to this temper that he owed the felicity of his
later days ; and yet here it was, if anywhere, that you
could call the man insane. A great part of this life con-
sists in contemplating what we cannot cure; but Mr.
Henry, if he could not dismiss solicitude by an effort
of the mind, must instantly and at whatever cost anni-
hilate the cause of it ; so that he played alternately the
ostrich and the bull. It is to this strenuous cowardice
of pain that I have to set down all the unfortunate and
excessive steps of his subsequent career. Certainly this
was the reason of his beating McManus, the groom, a
thing so much out of all his former practice and which
awakened so much comment at the time. It is to this
again, that I must lay the total loss of near upon two
hundred pounds, more than the half of which I could
have saved if his impatience would have suffered me.
But he preferred loss or any desperate extreme to a con-
tinuance of mental suffering.

All this has led me far from our immediate trouble:
whether he remembered or had forgotten his late dread-
ful act; and if he remembered, in what light he viewed
it. The truth burst upon us suddenly, and was indeed
one of the chief surprises of my life. He had been sev-

THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

eral times abroad, and was now beginning to walk a
little with an arm, when it chanced I should be left
alone with him upon the terrace. He turned to me
with a singular furtive smile, such as schoolboys use
when in fault; and says he, in a private whisper and
without the least preface: "Where have you buried
him ? "

I could not make one sound in answer.

"Where have you buried him?" he repeated. "I
want to see his grave."

I conceived I had best take the bull by the horns.
"Mr. Henry," said I, "I have news to give that will
rejoice you exceedingly. In all human likelihood, your
hands are clear of blood. I reason from certain indices ;
and by these it should appear your brother was not
dead, but was carried in a swound on board the lugger.
By now, he may be perfectly recovered."

What there was in his countenance, I could not read.
"James?" he asked.

"Your brother James," I answered. "I would not
raise a hope that may be found deceptive; but in my
heart, I think it very probable he is alive."

"Ah!" says Mr. Henry; and suddenly rising from
his seat with more alacrity than he had yet discovered,
set one finger on my breast, and cried at me in a kind
of screaming whisper, "Mackellar" — these were his
words — "nothing can kill that man. He is not mor-
tal. He is bound upon my back to all eternity — to all
God's eternity ! " says he, and, sitting down again, fell
upon a stubborn silence.

A day or two after, with the same secret smile, and
first looking about as if to be sure we were alone,

152

THE MASTER'S SECOND ABSENCE

" Mackellar," said he, "when you have any intelligence,
be sure and let me know. We must keep an eye upon
him, or he will take us when we least expect."

" He will not show face here again," said I.

" O yes, he will," said Mr. Henry. " Wherever I am
there will he be." And again he looked all about him.

" You must not dwell upon this thought, Mr. Henry,"
said I.

"No," said he, "that is a very good advice. We
will never think of it, except when you have news.
And we do not know yet," he added: "he may be
dead."

The manner of his saying this convinced me thor-
oughly of what I had scarce ventured to suspect : that
so far from suffering any penitence for the attempt, he
did but lament his failure. This was a discovery I kept
to myself, fearing it might do him a prejudice with his
wife. But I might have saved myself the trouble ; she
had divined it for herself, and found the sentiment quite
natural. Indeed I could not but say that there were
three of us all of the same mind ; nor could any news
have reached Durrisdeer more generally welcome than
tidings of the Master's death.

This brings me to speak of the exception, my old lord.
As soon as my anxiety for my own master began to be
relaxed, I was aware of a change in the old gentleman,
his father, that seemed to threaten mortal consequences.

His face was pale and swollen ; as he sat in the chim-
neyside with his Latin, he would drop off sleeping and
the book roll in the ashes ; some days he would drag his
foot, others stumble in speaking. The amenity of his
behaviour appeared more extreme; full of excuses for

«53

THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

the least trouble, very thoughtful for all; to myself, of
a most flattering civility. One day, that he had sent for
his lawyer and remained a long while private, he met
me as he was crossing the hall with painful footsteps,
and took me kindly by the hand. " Mr. Mackellar," said
he, "I have had many occasions to set a proper value
on your services ; and to-day, when I recast my will, I
have taken the freedom to name you for one of my ex,
ecutors. I believe you bear love enough to our house*
to render me this service." At that very time, he passed
the greater portion of his days in slumber, from which it
was often difficult to rouse him ; seemed to have lost all
count of years and had several times (particularly on
waking) called for his wife and for an old servant whose
very gravestone was now green with moss. If I had
been put to my oath, I must have declared he was in-
capable of testing ; and yet there was never a will drawn
more sensible in every trait, or showing a more excel-
lent judgment both of persons and affairs.

His dissolution, though it took not very long, pro-
ceeded by infinitesimal gradations. His faculties de-
cayed together steadily; the power of his limbs was
almost gone, he was extremely deaf, his speech had
sunk into mere mumblings ; and yet to the end he man-
aged to discover something of his former courtesy and
kindness, pressing the hand of any that helped him,
presenting me with one of his Latin books in which he
had laboriously traced my name, and in a thousand
ways reminding us of the greatness of that loss, which
it might almost be said we had already suffered. To
the end, the power of articulation returned to him in
flashes : it seemed he had only forgotten the art of speech

>54

THE MASTER'S SECOND ABSENCE

as a child forgets his lesson, and at times he would call
some part of it to mind. On the last night of his life,
he suddenly broke silence with these words from Virgil :
"Gnatique patrisque, alma, precor, miserere," perfectly
uttered and with a fitting accent. At the sudden clear
sound of it, we started from our several occupations ;
but it was in vain we turned to him ; he sat there silent
and to all appearance fatuous. A little later, he was had
to bed with more difficulty than ever before ; and some
time in the night, without any mortal violence, his spirit
fled.

At a far later period, I chanced to speak of these par-
ticulars with a doctor of medicine, a man of so high a
reputation that I scruple to adduce his name. By his
view of it, father and son both suffered from the same
affection: the father from the strain of his unnatural
sorrows, the son perhaps in the excitation of the fever,
each had ruptured a vessel on the brain ; and there was
probably (my doctor added) some predisposition in the
family to accidents of that description. The father sank,
the son recovered all the externals of a healthy man ; but
it is like there was some destruction in those delicate
tissues where the soul resides and does her earthly busi-
ness ; her heavenly, I would fain hope, cannot be thus
obstructed by material accidents. And yet upon a more
mature opinion, it matters not one jot; for He who shall
pass judgment on the records of our life is the same that
formed us in frailty.

The death of my old lord was the occasion of a fresh
surprise to us who watched the behaviour of his suc-
cessor. To any considering mind, the two sons had
between them slain their father; and he who took the

155

THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

sword might be even said to have slain him with his
hand. But no such thought appeared to trouble my
new lord. He was becomingly grave ; I could scarce
say sorrowful, or only with a pleasant sorrow ; talking
of the dead with a regretful cheerfulness, relating old
examples of his character, smiling at them with a good
conscience; and when the day of the funeral came
round, doing the honours with exact propriety. I
could perceive besides, that he found a solid gratifi-
cation in his accession to the title; the which he was
punctilious in exacting.

And now there came upon the scene a new character,
and one that played his part too in the story; 1 mean
the present lord, Alexander, whose birth (i 7th July, 1757)
filled the cup of my poor master's happiness. There
was nothing then left him to wish for; nor yet leisure
to wish for it. Indeed there never was a parent so fond
and doting as he showed himself. He was continually
uneasy in his son's absence. Was the child abroad?
the father would be watching the clouds in case it
rained. Was it night ? he would rise out of his bed to
observe its slumbers. His conversation grew even
wearyful to strangers, since he talked of little but his
son. In matters relating to the estate, all was designed
with a particular eye to Alexander; and it would be: —
" Let us put it in hand at once, that the wood may be
grown against Alexander's majority; " or "this will fall
in again handsomely for Alexander's marriage." Every
day this absorption of the man's nature became more
observable, with many touching and some very blame-
worthy particulars. Soon the child could walk abroad

•56

THE MASTER'S SECOND ABSENCE

with him, at first on the terrace hand in hand, and after-
ward at large about the policies; and this grew to be
my lord's chief occupation. The sound of their two
voices (audible a great way off, for they spoke loud)
became familiar in the neighbourhood; and for my part
I found it more agreeable than the sound of birds. It
was pretty to see the pair returning, full of briars, and
the father as flushed and sometimes as bemuddied as
the child : for they were equal sharers in all sorts of boy-
ish entertainment, digging in the beach, damming of
streams, and what not; and I have seen them gaze
through a fence at cattle with the same childish con-
templation.

The mention of these rambles brings me to a strange
scene of which I was a witness. There was one walk
I never followed myself without emotion, so often had
I gone there upon miserable errands, so much had there
befallen against the house of Durrisdeer. But the path
lay handy from all points beyond the Muckle Ross ; and
I was driven, although much against my will, to take
my use of it perhaps once in the two months. It befell
when Mr. Alexander was of the age of seven or eight,
I had some business on the far side in the morning, and
entered the shrubbery on my homeward way, about
nine of a bright forenoon. It was that time of year
when the woods are all in their spring colours, the
thorns all in flower, and the birds in the high season of
their singing. In contrast to this merriment, the shrub-
bery was only the more sad and I the more oppressed
by its associations. In this situation of spirit, it struck
me disagreeably to hear voices a little way in front, and
to recognize the tones of my lord and Mr. Alexander.

'57

THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

I pushed ahead, and came presently into their view.
They stood together in the open space where the duel
was, my lord with his hand on his son's shoulder and
speaking with some gravity. At least, as he raised his
head upon my coming, I thought I could perceive his
countenance to lighten.

"Ah," says he, "here comes the good Mackellar. I
have just been telling Sandie the story of this place, and
how there was a man whom the devil tried to kill, and
how near he came to kill the devil instead."

I had thought it strange enough he should bring the
child into that scene ; that he should actually be dis-
coursing of his act, passed measure. But the worst was
yet to come; for he added, turning to his son: "You
can ask Mackellar; he was here and saw it."

"Is it true, Mr. Mackellar?" asked the child. "And
did you really see the devil ? "

"I have not heard the tale," I replied; "and I am in
a press of business." So far I said a little sourly, fen-
cing with the embarrassment of the position ; and sud-
denly the bitterness of the past and the terror of that
scene by candlelight rushed in upon my mind; I be-
thought me that, for a difference of a second's quickness
in parade, the child before me might have never seen the
day; and the emotion that always fluttered round my
heart in that dark shrubbery burst forth in words. " But
so much is true," I cried, "that I have met the devil in
these woods and seen him foiled here ; blessed be God
that we escaped with life — blessed be God that one
stone yet stands upon another in the walls of Durris-
deer! and O, Mr. Alexander, if ever you come by this
spot, though it was a hundred years hence and you

158

THE MASTER'S SECOND ABSENCE

came with the gayest and the highest in the land, I
would step aside and remember a bit prayer."

My lord bowed his head gravely. "Ah," says he,
"Mackellar is always in the right. Come, Alexander,
take your bonnet off." And with that he uncovered and
held out his hand. "O Lord," said he, "I thank thee,
and my son thanks thee, for thy manifold great mercies.
Let us have peace for a little; defend us from the evil
man. Smite him, O Lord, upon the lying mouth!"
The last broke out of him like a cry ; and at that, whe-
ther remembered anger choked his utterance, or whether
he perceived this was a singular sort of prayer, at least
he came suddenly to a full stop ; and after a moment,
set back his hat upon his head.

"I think you have forgot a word, my lord," said I.
"Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive them that tres-
pass against us. For thine is the kingdom, and the
power, and the glory, forever and ever. Amen."

"Ah, that is easy saying," said my lord. "That is
very easy saying, Mackellar. But for me to forgive? — I
think I would cut a very silly figure, if I had the affecta-
tion to pretend it."

"The bairn, my lord," said I with some severity, for
I thought his expressions little fitted for the ears of
children.

"Why, very true," said he. "This is dull work for
a bairn. Let's go nesting."

I forget if it was the same day, but it was soon after,
my lord, finding me alone, opened himself a little more
on the same head.

"Mackellar," he said, "I am now a very happy
man."

159

THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

" I think so indeed, my lord," said I, "and the sight
of it gives me a light heart."

"There is an obligation in happiness, do you not
think so ? " says he, musingly.

" I think so indeed," says I, "and one in sorrow too.
If we are not here to try to do the best, in my hum-
ble opinion, the sooner we are away the better for all
parties."

"Ay, but if you were in my shoes, would you forgive
him?" asks my lord.

The suddenness of the attack a little gravelled me.
"It is a duty laid upon us strictly," said I.

"Hut! " said he. "These are expressions! Do you
forgive the man yourself?"

"Well — no! " said I. "God forgive me, I do not."

"Shake hands upon that! " cries my lord, with a kind
of jovialty.

"It is an ill sentiment to shake hands upon," said I,
" for Christian people. I think I will give you mine on
some more evangelical occasion."

This I said smiling a little; but as for my lord, he
went from the room laughing aloud.

For my lord's slavery to the child, I can find no ex-
pression adequate. He lost himself in that continual
thought : business, friends and wife being all alike for-
gotten or only remembered with a painful effort, like
that of one struggling with a posset. It was most
notable in the matter of his wife. Since I had known
Durrisdeer, she had been the burthen of his thought
and the loadstone of his eyes ; and now, she was quite
cast out. I have seen him come to the door of a room,

160

THE MASTER'S SECOND ABSENCE

look round, and pass my lady over as though she were
a dog before the fire : — it would be Alexander he was
seeking, and my lady knew it well. I have heard him
speak to her so ruggedly, that I nearly found it in my
heart to intervene: the cause would still be the same,
that she had in some way thwarted Alexander. With-
out doubt this was in the nature of a judgment on my
lady. Without doubt she had the tables turned upon
her as only providence can do it; she who had been
cold so many years to every mark of tenderness, it
was her part now to be neglected : the more praise to
her that she played it well.

An odd situation resulted: that we had once more
two parties in the house, and that now I was of my
lady's. Not that ever I lost the love I bore my master.
But for one thing, he had the less use for my society.
For another, I could not but compare the case of Mr.
Alexander with that of Miss Katharine ; for whom my
lord had never found the least attention. And for a
third, I was wounded by the change he discovered to
his wife, which struck me in the nature of an infidelity.
I could not but admire besides the constancy and kind-
ness she displayed. Perhaps her sentiment to my lord,
as it had been founded from the first in pity, was that
rather of a mother than a wife ; perhaps it pleased her
(if I may so say) to behold her two children so happy
in each other: the more as one had suffered so unjustly
in the past. But for all that, and though I could never
trace in her one spark of jealousy, she must fall back
for society on poor, neglected Miss Katharine ; and I, on
my part, came to pass my spare hours more and more
with the mother and daughter. It would be easy to

101

THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

make too much of this division, for it was a pleasant
family as families go; still the thing existed; whether
my lord knew it or not, I am in doubt, I do not think
he did, he was bound up so entirely in his son ; but the
rest of us knew it and (in a manner) suffered from the
knowledge.

What troubled us most, however, was the great and
growing danger to the child. My lord was his father
over again ; it was to be feared the son would prove a
second Master. Time has proved these fears to have
been quite exaggerate. Certainly there is no more wor-
thy gentleman to-day in Scotland than the seventh Lord
Durrisdeer. Of my own exodus from his employment,
it does not become me to speak, above all in a memo-
randum written only to justify his father. . . .

[Editor's Note. Five pages of Mr. Mackellar's MS.
are here omitted. I have gathered from their perusal an
impression that Mr. Mackellar, in his old age, was rather
an exacting servant. Against the seventh Lord Durris-
deer (with whom at any rate we have no concern) noth-
ing material is alleged. — R. L. S.]

. . . But our fear at the time was lest he should
turn out, in the person of his son, a second edition of
his brother. My lady had tried to interject some whole-
some discipline ; she had been glad to give that up, and
now looked on with secret dismay ; sometimes she even
spoke of it by hints ; and sometimes when there was
brought to her knowledge some monstrous instance of
my lord's indulgence, she would betray herself in a
gesture or perhaps an exclamation. As for myself, I
was haunted by the thought both day and night: not

162

THE MASTER'S SECOND ABSENCE

so much for the child's sake as for the father's. The
man had gone to sleep, he was dreaming a dream, and
any rough wakening must infallibly prove mortal. That
he should survive its death was inconceivable ; and the
fear of its dishonour made me cover my face.

It was this continual preoccupation that screwed me
up at last to a remonstrance: a matter worthy to be
narrated in detail. My lord and I sat one day at the
same table upon some tedious business of detail ; I have
said that he had lost his former interest in such occupa-
tions ; he was plainly itching to be gone, and he looked
fretful, weary and methought older than I had ever pre-
viously observed. I suppose it was the haggard face
that put me suddenly upon my enterprise.

" My lord," said I, with my head down, and feigning
to continue my occupation — "or rather let me call you
again by the name of Mr. Henry, for I fear your anger
and want you to think upon old times "

"My good Mackellar! " said he; and that in tones so
kindly that I had near forsook my purpose. But I called
to mind that I was speaking for his good, and stuck to
my colours.

" Has it never come in upon your mind what you
are doing ? " I asked.

"What I am doing?" he repeated, "I was never
good at guessing riddles."

"What you are doing with your son," said I.

"Well," said he, with some defiance in his tone,
" and what am I doing with my son ?"

"Your father was a very good man," says I, straying
from the direct path. " But do you think he was a
wise father ? "

163

THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

There was a pause before he spoke, and then : " I say
nothing against him," he replied. "I had the most
cause perhaps; but I say nothing."

"Why, there it is," said I. "You had the cause at
least. And yet your father was a good man ; I never
knew a better, save on the one point, nor yet a wiser.
Where he stumbled, it is highly possible another man
should fall. He had the two sons "

My lord rapped suddenly and violently on the table.

" What is this?" cried he. "Speak out! "

"I will, then," said I, my voice almost strangled with
the thumping of my heart. ' ' If you continue to indulge
Mr. Alexander, you are following in your father's foot-
steps: Beware, my lord, lest (when he grows up) your
son should follow in the Master's."

I had never meant to put the thing so crudely ; but in
the extreme of fear, there comes a brutal kind of cour-
age, the most brutal indeed of all; and I burnt my ships
with that plain word. I never had the answer. When
I lifted my head, my lord had risen to his feet, and the
next moment he fell heavily on the floor. The fit or
seizure endured not very long; he came to himself va-
cantly, put his hand to his head which I was then sup-
porting, and says he, in a broken voice: "I have been
ill," and a little after: "Help me." I got him to his
feet, and he stood pretty well, though he kept hold of
the table. "I have been ill, Mackellar," he said again.
"Something broke, Mackellar — or was going to break,
and then all swam away. I think I was very angry.
Never you mind, Mackellar, never you mind, my man.
I wouldnae hurt a hair upon your head. Too much has
come and gone. It's a certain thing between us two.

164

THE MASTER'S SECOND ABSENCE

But I think, Mackellar, I will go to Mrs. Henry — I think
I will go to Mrs. Henry," said he, and got pretty steadily
from the room, leaving me overcome with penitence.

Presently the door flew open, and my lady swept in
with flashing eyes. "What is all this?" she cried.
"What have you done to my husband? Will nothing
teach you your position in this house ? Will you never
cease from making and meddling?"

"My lady," said I, "since I have been in this house,
I have had plenty of hard words. For a while they were
my daily diet, and I swallowed them all. As for to-day,
you may call me what you please ; you will never find
the name hard enough for such a blunder. And yet I
meant it for the best."

I told her all with ingenuity, even as it is written
here; and when she had heard me out, she pondered,
and I could see her animosity fall. "Yes," she said,
"you meant well indeed. I have had the same thought
myself, or the same temptation rather, which makes me
pardon you. But, dear God, can you not understand
that he can bear no more? He can bear no more!"
she cried. "The cord is stretched to snapping. What
matters the future, if he have one or two good days ? "

"Amen," said I. "I will meddle no more. I am
pleased enough that you should recognize the kindness
of my meaning."

' ' Yes, " said my lady, ' ' but when it came to the point,
I have to suppose your courage failed you ; for what you
said was said cruelly." She paused, looking at me; then
suddenly smiled a little, and said a singular thing: "Do
you know what you are, Mr. Mackellar ? You are an
old maid."

165

THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

No more incident of any note occurred in the family
until the return of that ill-starred man, the Master. But
I have to place here a second extract from the memoirs
of Chevalier Burke, interesting in itself and highly nec-
essary for my purpose. It is our only sight of the
Master on his Indian travels ; and the first word in these
pages of Secundra Dass. One fact, it is to observe, ap-
pears here very clearly, which if we had known some
twenty years ago, how many calamities and sorrows
had been spared! — that Secundra Dass spoke Englisho

166

ADVENTURE OF CHEVALIER BURKE IN INDIA

(Extracted from his Memoirs.)

. . . HERE was I, therefore, on the streets of that city,
the name of which I cannot call to mind, while even then
J was so ill acquainted with its situation that I knew not
whether to go south or north. The alert being sudden,
1 had run forth without shoes or stockings ; my hat had
been struck from my head in the mellay ; my kit was in
the hands of the English ; I had no companion but the
cipaye, no weapon but my sword, and the devil a coin
in my pocket. In short I was for all the world like one
of those calenders with whom Mr. Galland has made us
acquainted in his elegant tales. These gentlemen, you
will remember, were forever falling in with extraordinary
incidents; and I was myself upon the brink of one so as-
tonishing that I protest I cannot explain it to this day.

The cipaye was a very honest man, he had served many
years with the French colours, and would have let him-
self be cut to pieces for any of the brave countrymen of
Mr. Lally. It is the same fellow (his name has quite es-
caped me) of whom I have narrated already a surprising
instance of generosity of mind : when he found Mr. de
Fessac and myself upon the ramparts, entirely overcome
with liquor, and covered us with straw while the com-
mandant was passing by. I consulted him therefore

167

THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

with perfect freedom. It was a fine question what to
do ; but we decided at last to escalade a garden wall,
where we could certainly sleep in the shadow of the
trees, and might perhaps find an occasion to get hold of
a pair of slippers and a turban. In that part of the city
we had only the difficulty of the choice, for it was a
quarter consisting entirely of walled gardens, and the
lanes which divided them were at that hour of the night
deserted. I gave the cipaye a back, and we had soon
dropped into a large enclosure full of trees. The place
was soaking with the dew which, in that country, is
exceedingly unwholesome, above all to whites ; yet my
fatigue was so extreme that I was already half asleep,
when the cipaye recalled me to my senses. In the far
end of the enclosure a bright light had suddenly shone
out, and continued to burn steadily among the leaves.
It was a circumstance highly unusual in such a place
and hour; and in our situation, it behoved us to pro-
ceed with some timidity. The cipaye was sent to re-
connoitre, and pretty soon returned with the intelligence
that we had fallen extremely amiss, for the house be-
longed to a white man who was in all likelihood
English.

" Faith," says I, " if there is a white man to be seen,
I will have a look at him ; for the Lord be praised ! there
are more sorts than the one! "

The cipaye led me forward accordingly to a place from
which I had a clear view upon the house. It was sur-
rounded with a wide verandah; a lamp, very well
trimmed, stood upon the floor of it ; and on either side
of the lamp there sat a man, cross-legged after the ori-
ental manner. Both, besides, were bundled up in muslin

1 68

ADVENTURE OF CHEVALIER BURKE

like two natives ; and yet one of them was not only a
white man, but a man very well known to me and the
reader: being indeed that very Master of Ballantrae of
whose gallantry and genius I have had to speak so often.
Word had reached me that he was come to the Indies ;
though we had never met at least and I heard little of
his occupations. But sure, I had no sooner recognized
him, and found myself in the arms of so old a comrade,
than I supposed my tribulations were quite done. I
stepped plainly forth into the light of the moon, which
shone exceeding strong, and hailing Ballantrae by
name, made him in a few words master of my grievous
situation. He turned, started the least thing in the
world, looked me fair in the face while I was speaking,
and when I had done, addressed himself to his com-
panion in the barbarous native dialect. The second
person, who was of an extraordinary delicate appear-
ance, with legs like walking canes and fingers like the
stalk of a tobacco pipe * now rose to his feet.

"The Sahib," says he, "understands no English lan-
guage. I understand it myself, and I see you make
some small mistake — O, which may happen very often !
But the Sahib would be glad to know how you come
in a garden."

" Ballantrae! " I cried. " Have you the damned im-
pudence to deny me to my face ? "

Ballantrae never moved a muscle, staring at me like
an image in a pagoda.

"The Sahib understands no English language," says
the native, as glib as before. "He be glad to know
how you come in a garden."

Note l>y Mr. Mackellar. — Plainly Secundra Dass. E. McK.
169

THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

" O, the divil fetch him ! " says I. "He would be glad
to know how I come in a garden, would he? Well
now, my dear man, just have the civility to tell the Sahib,
with my kind love, that we are two soldiers here whom
he never met and never heard of, but the cipaye is a
broth of a boy, and I am a broth of a boy myself; and if
we don't get a full meal of meat, and a turban, and slip-
pers, and the value of a gold mohur in small change as a
matter of convenience, bedad, my friend, I could lay my
finger on a garden where there is going to be trouble."

They carried their comedy so far as to converse a
while in Hindustanee; and then, says the Hindu, with
the same smile, but sighing as if he were tired of the
repetition. "The Sahib would be glad to know how
you come in a garden."

" Is that the way of it ?" says I, and laying my hand
on my sword-hilt, I bade the cipaye draw.

Ballantrae's Hindu, still smiling, pulled out a pistol
from his bosom, and though Ballantrae himself never
moved a muscle, I knew him well enough to be sure he
was prepared.

"The Sahib thinks you better go away," says the
Hindu.

Well, to be plain, it was what I was thinking myself ;
for the report of a pistol would have been, under provi-
dence, the means of hanging the pair of us.

"Tell the Sahib, I consider him no gentleman," says
I, and turned away with a gesture of contempt.

I was not gone three steps when the voice of the
Hindu called me back. "The Sahib would be glad to
know if you are a dam, low Irishman," says he; and at
the words Ballantrae smiled and bowed very low.

170

ADVENTURE OF CHEVALIER BURKE

"What is that?" says I.

"The Sahib say you ask your friend Mackellar," says
the Hindu. " The Sahib he cry quits."

"Tell the Sahib I will give him a cure for the Scots
fiddle when next we meet," cried I.

The pair were still smiling as I left.

There is little doubt some flaws may be picked in
my own behaviour; and when a man, however gallant,
appeals to posterity with an account of his exploits, he
must almost certainly expect to share the fate of Caesar
and Alexander, and to meet with some detractors. But
there is one thing that can never be laid at the door
of Francis Burke : he never turned his back on a
friend. . . .

(Here follows a passage which the Chevalier Burke
has been at the pains to delete before sending me his
manuscript. Doubtless it was some very natural com-
plaint of what he supposed to be an indiscretion on my
part; though indeed, I can call none to mind. Perhaps
Mr. Henry was less guarded ; or it is just possible the
Master found the means to examine my correspondence,
and himself read the letter from Troyes : in revenge for
which this cruel jest was perpetrated on Mr. Burke in
his extreme necessity. The Master, for all his wicked-
ness, was not without some natural affection ; I believe
he was sincerely attached to Mr. Burke in the beginning ;
but the thought of treachery dried up the springs of his
very shallow friendship, and his detestable nature ap-
peared naked. — E. McK.)

171

THE ENEMY IN THE HOUSE

IT is a strange thing that I should be at a stick for a
date, — the date, besides, of an incident that changed
the very nature of my life, and sent us all into foreign
lands. But the truth is I was stricken out of all my
habitudes, and find my journals very ill redd-up, * the
day not indicated sometimes for a week or two together,
and the whole fashion of the thing like that of a man
near desperate. It was late in March at least, or early
in April, 1764. I had slept heavily and wakened with
a premonition of some evil to befall. So strong was
this upon my spirit, that I hurried downstairs in my
shirt and breeches, and my hand (I remember) shook
upon the rail. It was a cold, sunny morning with a thick
white frost; the blackbirds sang exceeding sweet and
loud about the house of Durrisdeer, and there was a
noise of the sea in all the chambers. As I came by the
doors of the hall, another sound arrested me, of voices
talking. I drew nearer and stood like a man dreaming.
Here was certainly a human voice, and that in my own
master's house, and yet I knew it not ; certainly human
speech, and that in my native land ; and yet listen as I
pleased, I could not catch one syllable. An old tale

* Ordered.
172

THE ENEMY IN THE HOUSE

started up in my mind of a fairy wife (or perhaps only a
wandering stranger), that came to the place of my fa-
thers some generations back, and stayed the matter of
a week, talking often in a tongue that signified nothing
to the hearers ; and went again as she had come, under
cloud of night, leaving not so much as a name behind
her. A little fear I had, but more curiosity; and I
opened the hall door, and entered.

The supper things still lay upon the table; the shut-
ters were still closed, although day peeped in the divi-
sions ; and the great room was lighted only with a sin-
gle taper and some lurching reverberation of the fire.
Close in the chimney sat two men. The one that was
wrapped in a cloak and wore boots, I knew at once:
it was the bird of ill omen back again. Of the other,
who was set close to the red embers, and made up into
a bundle like a mummy, I could but see that he was an
alien, of a darker hue than any man of Europe, very
frailly built, with a singular tall forehead, and a secret
eye. Several bundles and a small valise were on the
floor; and to judge by the smallness of this luggage,
and by the condition of the Master's boots, grossly
patched by some unscrupulous country cobbler, evil
had not prospered.

He rose upon my entrance; our eyes crossed; and I
know not why it should have been, but my courage
rose like a lark on a May morning.

"Ha !" said I, "is this you?" — and I was pleased
with the unconcern of my own voice.

" It is even myself, worthy Mackellar, " says the Master.

"This time you have brought the black dog visibly
upon your back," I continued.

>73

THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

"Referring to Secundra Dass?" asked the Master.
" Let me present you. He is a native gentleman of
India."

" Hum ! " said I. " I am no great lover either of you
or your friends, Mr. Bally. But I will let a little day-
light in and have a look at you." And so saying, I un-
did the shutters of the eastern window.

By the light of the morning, I could perceive the man
was changed. Later, when we were all together, I was
more struck to see how lightly time had dealt with him ;
but the first glance was otherwise.

" You are getting an old man," said I.

A shade came upon his face. " If you could see your-
self," said he, "you would perhaps not dwell upon the
topic."

"Hut!" I returned, "old age is nothing to me. I
think I have been always old; and I am now, I thank
God, better known and more respected. It is not every
one that can say that, Mr. Bally ! The lines my our brow
are calamities ; your life begins to close in upon you like a
prison ; death will soon be rapping at the door; and I see
not from what source you are to draw your consolations. "

Here the Master addressed himself to Secundra Dass
in Hindustanee ; from which I gathered (I freely confess,
with a high degree of pleasure) that my remarks an-
noyed him. All this while, you may be sure, my mind
had been busy upon other matters even while I rallied
my enemy; and chiefly as to how I should communi-
cate secretly and quickly with my lord. To this, in the
breathing-space now given me, I turned all the forces
of my mind ; when, suddenly shifting my eyes, I was
aware of the man himself standing in the doorway, and

174

THE ENEMY IN THE HOUSE

to all appearance quite composed. He had no sooner
met my looks than he stepped across the threshold.
The Master heard him coming, and advanced upon the
other side; about four feet apart, these brothers came
to a full pause and stood exchanging steady looks and
then my lord smiled, bowed a little forward, and turned
briskly away.

"Mackellar," says he, "we must see to breakfast for
these travellers."

It was plain the Master was a trifle disconcerted ; but
he assumed the more impudence of speech and manner.
"I am as hungry as a hawk," says he. "Let it be
something good, Henry."

My lord turned to him with the same hard smile.
" Lord Durrisdeer," says he.

"Oh, never in the family 1 " returned the Master.

" Everyone in this house renders me my proper title,"
says my lord. " If it please you to make an exception,
I will leave you to consider what appearance it will bear
to strangers, and whether it may not be translated as an
effect of impotent jealousy."

I could have clapped my hands together with delight :
the more so as my lord left no time for any answer, but,
bidding me with a sign to follow him, went straight out
of the hall.

"Come quick," says he, "we have to sweep vermin
from the house." And he sped through the passages
with so swift a step that I could scarce keep up with
him, straight to the door of John Paul, the which he
opened without summons and walked in. John was to
all appearance sound asleep, but my lord made no pre-
tence of waking him.

«75

THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

"John Paul," said he, speaking as quietly as ever I
heard him, "you served my father long, or I would
pack you from the house like a dog. If in half an hour's
time I find you gone, you shall continue to receive your
wages in Edinburgh. If you linger here or in St. Bride's

— old man, old servant, and altogether — I shall find
some very astonishing way to make you smart for your
disloyalty. Up, and begone. The door you let them
in by will serve for your departure. I do not choose
my son shall see your face again."

" I am rejoiced to find you bear the thing so quietly,"
said I, when we were forth again by ourselves.

"Quietly!" cries he, and put my hand suddenly
against his heart, which struck upon his bosom like a
sledge.

At this revelation I was filled with wonder and fear.
There was no constitution could bear so violent a strain

— his least of all, that was unhinged already; and I de-
cided in my mind that we must bring this monstrous
situation to an end.

"It would be well, I think, if I took word to my lady,"
said I. Indeed, he should have gone himself, but I
counted (not in vain) on his indifference.

"Aye," says he, "do. I will hurry breakfast: we
must all appear at the table, even Alexander; it must
appear we are untroubled."

I ran to my lady's room, and, with no preparatory
cruelty, disclosed my news.

" My mind was long ago made up," said she. " We
must make our packets secretly to-day, and leave se-
cretly to-night. Thank Heaven, we have another house!
The first ship that sails shall bear us to New York."

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THE ENEMY IN THE HOUSE

"And what of him ?" I asked.

"We leave him Durrisdeer," she cried. "Let him
work his pleasure upon that."

" Not so, by your leave," said I. "There shall be a
dog at his heels that can hold fast. Bed he shall have,
and board, and a horse to ride upon, if he behave him-
self ; but the keys (if you think well of it, my lady) shall
be left in the hands of one Mackellar. There will be
good care taken; trust him for that."

"Mr. Mackellar," she cried, "I thank you for that
thought ! All shall be left in your hands. If we must
go into a savage country, I bequeath it to you to take
our vengeance. Send Macconochie to St. Bride's, to
arrange privately for horses and to call the lawyer. My
lord must leave procuration."

At that moment my lord came to the door, and we
opened our plan to him.

" I will never hear of it," he cried; " he would think
I feared him. I will stay in my own house, please God,
until I die. There lives not the man can beard me out
of it. Once and for all, here I am and here I stay, in
spite of all the devils in hell." I can give no idea of the
vehemency of his words and utterance; but we both
stood aghast, and I in particular, who had been a wit-
ness of his former self-restraint.

My lady looked at me with an appeal that went to my
heart and recalled me to my wits. I made her a private
sign to go, and, when my lord and I were alone, went
up to him where he was racing to and fro in one end of
the room like a half-lunatic, and set my hand firmly on
his shoulder.

" My lord," says I, " I am going to be the plain-dealer
177

THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

once more ; if for the last time, so much the better, for
I am grown weary of the part."

" Nothing will change me," he answered. " God for-
bid I should refuse to hear you ; but nothing will change
me." This he said firmly, with no signal of the former
violence, which already raised my hopes.

"Very well," said I. "I can afford to waste my
breath." I pointed to a chair, and he sat down and
looked at me. " I can remember a time when my lady
very much neglected you," said I.

"I never spoke of it while it lasted," returned my lord,
with a high flush of colour ; "and it is all changed now."

"Do you know how much?" I said. "Do you know
how much it is all changed ? The tables are turned,
my lord! It is my lady that now courts you for a
word, a look, ay and courts you in vain. Do you know
with whom she passes her days while you are out
gallivanting in the policies ? My lord, she is glad to
pass them with a certain dry old grieve * of the name
of Ephraim Mackellar; and I think you may be able to
remember what that means, for I am the more in a
mistake or you were once driven to the same company
yourself."

" Mackellar! " cries my lord, getting to his feet. "O
my God, Mackellar!"

" It is neither the name of Mackellar nor the name of
God that can change the truth," said I ; "and I am tell-
ing you the fact. Now, for you, that suffered so much,
to deal out the same suffering to another, is that the
part of any Christian ? But you are so swallowed up
in your new friend that the old are all forgotten. They

* Land steward.
.78

THE ENEMY IN THE HOUSE

are all clean vanished from your memory. And yet
they stood by you at the darkest ; my lady not the least.
And does my lady ever cross your mind ? Does it ever
cross your mind what she went through that night ? —
or what manner of a wife she has been to you thence-
forward ? — or in what kind of a position she finds her-
self to-day ? Never. It is your pride to stay and face
him out, and she must stay along with you. O, my
lord's pride — that's the great affair! And yet she is the
woman, and you are a great, hulking man ! She is the
woman that you swore to protect; and, more betoken,
the own mother of that son of yours!"

" You are speaking very bitterly, Mackellar," said he;
"but, the Lord knows, I fear you are speaking very
true. I have not proved worthy of my happiness.
Bring my lady back."

My lady was waiting near at hand to learn the issue.
When I brought her in, my lord took a hand of each of
us and laid them both upon his bosom. "I have had
two friends in my life," said he. "All the comfort
ever I had, it came from one or other. When you two
are in a mind, I think I would be an ungrateful dog " —
He shut his mouth very hard, and looked on us with
swimming eyes. " Do what ye like with me, " says he,
"only don't think " — He stopped again. " Do what
ye please with me: God knows I love and honour
you." And dropping our two hands, he turned his
back and went and gazed out of the window. But my
lady ran after, calling his name, and threw herself upon
his neck in a passion of weeping.

I went out and shut the door behind" me, and stood
and thanked God from the bottom of my heart.

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THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

At the breakfast board, according to my lord's design,
we were all met. The Master had by that time plucked
off his patched boots and made a toilet suitable to the
hour; Secundra Dass was no longer bundled up in
wrappers, but wore a decent plain black suit, which
misbecame him strangely; and the pair were at the
great window looking forth, when the family entered.
They turned ; and the black man (as they had already
named him in the house) bowed almost to his knees,
but the Master was for running forward like one of the
family. My lady stopped him, courtesying low from
the far end of the hall, and keeping her children at her
back. My lord was a little in front : so there were the
three cousins of Durrisdeer face to face. The hand of
time was very legible on all ; I seemed to read in their
changed faces a memento mori; and what affected me
still more, it was the wicked man that bore his years
the handsomest. My lady was quite transfigured into
the matron, a becoming woman for the head of a great
tableful of children and dependents. My lord was
grown slack in his limbs ; he stooped ; he walked with
a running motion, as though he had learned again from
Mr. Alexander; his face was drawn; it seemed a trifle
longer than of old; and it wore at times a smile very
singularly mingled, and which (in my eyes) appeared
both bitter and pathetic. But the Master still bore him-
self erect, although perhaps with effort; his brow barred
about the centre with imperious lines, his mouth set as
for command. He had all the gravity and something
of the splendor of Satan in the ' ' Paradise Lost. " I could
not help but see the man with admiration, and was only
surprised that I saw him with so little fear.

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THE ENEMY IN THE HOUSE

But indeed (as long as we were at the table) it seemed
as if his authority were quite vanished and his teeth
all drawn. We had known him a magician that con-
trolled the elements ; and here he was, transformed into
an ordinary gentleman, chatting like his neighbors at the
breakfast board. For now the father was dead, and my
lord and lady reconciled, in what ear was he to pour his
calumnies ? It came upon me in a kind of vision how
hugely I had overrated the man's subtlety. He had his
malice still, he was false as ever; and, the occasion being
gone that made his strength, he sat there impotent; he
was still the viper, but now spent his venom on a file.
Two more thoughts occurred to me while yet we sat
at breakfast: the first, that he was abashed — I had al-
most said distressed — to find his wickedness quite un-
availing; the second, that perhaps my lord was in the
right, and we did amiss to fly from our dismasted enemy.
But my poor master's leaping heart came in my mind, and
I remembered it was for his life we played the coward.

When the meal was over, the Master followed me to
my room, and, taking a chair (which I had never of-
fered him), asked me what was to be done with him.

"Why, Mr. Bally," said I, "the house will still be
open to you for a time."

" For a time ?" says he. " I do not know if I quite
take your meaning."

" It is plain enough," said I. " We keep you for our
reputation ; as soon as you shall have publicly disgraced
yourself by some of your misconduct, we shall pack you
forth again."

" You are become an impudent rogue," said the Mas-
ter, bending his brows at me dangerously.

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THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

" I learned in a good school," I returned. "And you
must have perceived yourself, that with my old lord's
death your power is quite departed. I do not fear you
now, Mr. Bally; 1 think even — God forgive me — that
I take a certain pleasure in your company."

He broke out in a burst of laughter, which I clearly
saw to be assumed.

" I have come with empty pockets," says he, after a
pause.

"I do not think there will be any money going," I
replied. " I would advise you not to build on that."

"I shall have something to say on the point," he re-
turned.

" Indeed ? " said I. "I have not a guess what it will
be, then."

"Oh, you affect confidence," said the Master. "I
have still one strong position, — that you people fear a
scandal, and I enjoy it."

"Pardon me, Mr. Bally," says I. "We do not in
the least fear a scandal against you."

He laughed again. " You have been studying rep-
artee," he said. " But speech is very easy, and some-
times very deceptive. I warn you fairly : you will find
me vitriol in the house. You would do wiser to pay
money down, and see my back." And with that, he
waved his hand to me and left the room.

A little after, my lord came with the lawyer, Mr. Car-
lyle ; a bottle of old wine was brought, and we all had a
glass before we fell to business. The necessary deeds
were then prepared and executed, and the Scotch es-
tates made over in trust to Mr. Carlyle and myself.

" There is one point, Mr. Carlyle," said my lord, when
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THE ENEMY IN THE HOUSE

these affairs had been adjusted, " on which I wish that
you would do us justice. This sudden departure co-
inciding with my brother's return will be certainly
commented on. I wish you would discourage any
conjunction of the two."

" I will make a point of it, my lord," said Mr. Car-
lyle. " The Mas — Mr. Bally does not then accompany
you?"

" It is a point I must approach," said my lord. " Mr.
Bally remains at Durrisdeer under the care of Mr. Mac-
kellar; and I do not mean that he shall even know our
destination."

"Common report, however — " began the lawyer.

"Ah, but, Mr. Carlyle, this is to be a secret quite
among ourselves," interrupted my lord. "None but
you and Mackellar are to be made acquainted with my
movements."

" And Mr. Bally stays here ? Quite so," said Mr. Car-
lyle. " The powers you leave — " Then he broke off
again. "Mr. Mackellar, we have a rather heavy weight
upon us."

"No doubt, sir," said I.

"No doubt," said he. "Mr. Bally will have no
voice ? "

" He will have no voice," said my lord, "and I hope
no influence. Mr. Bally is not a good adviser."

"I see," said the lawyer. "By the way, has Mr.
Bally means ? "

" I understand him to have nothing," replied my lord.
" I give him table, fire, and candle in this house."

"And in the matter of an allowance? — If I am to
share the responsibility, you will see how highly desir-

183

THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

able it is that I should understand your views," said
the lawyer. " On the question of an allowance ?"

" There will be no allowance," said my lord. " I wish
Mr. Bally to live very private. We have not always been
gratified with his behaviour."

"And in the matter of money," I added, "he has
shown himself an infamous bad husband. Glance your
eye upon that docket, Mr. Carlyle, where I have brought
together the different sums the man has drawn from the
estate in the last fifteen or twenty years. The total is
pretty."

Mr. Carlyle made Jhe motion of whistling. "I had
no guess of this," said he. " Excuse me once more, my
lord, if I appear to push you ; but it is really desirable I
should penetrate your intentions : Mr. Mackellar might
die, when I should find myself alone upon this trust.
Would it not be rather your lordship's preference that
Mr. Bally should — ahem — should leave the country?"

My lord looked at Mr. Carlyle. "Why do you ask
that ? " said he.

"I gather, my lord, that Mr. Bally is not a comfort to
his family," says the lawyer with a smile.

My lord's face became suddenly knotted. " I wish he
was in hell," cried he, and filled himself a glass of wine,
but with a hand so tottering that he spilled the half into
his bosom. This was the second time that, in the midst
of the most regular and wise behaviour, his animosity
had spirted out. It startled Mr. Carlyle, who observed
my lord thenceforth with covert curiosity, and to me it
restored the certainty that we were acting for the best
in view of my lord's health and reason.

Except for this explosion, the interview was very suc-
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THE ENEMY IN THE HOUSE

cessfully conducted. No doubt Mr. Carlyle would talk;
as lawyers do, little by little. We could thus feel we
had laid the foundations of a better feeling in the coun-
try ; . and the man's own misconduct would certainly
complete what we had begun. Indeed, before his de-
parture, the lawyer showed us there had already gone
abroad some glimmerings of the truth.

" I should perhaps explain to you, my lord," said he,
pausing, with his hat in his hand, " that I have not been
altogether surprised with your lordship's dispositions in
the case of Mr. Bally. Something of this nature oozed
out when he was last in Durrisdeer. There was some
talk of a woman at St. Bride's, to whom you had be-
haved extremely handsome, and Mr. Bally with no small
degree of cruelty. There was the entail again, which
was much controverted. In short, there was no want
of talk, back and forward ; and some of our wiseacres
took up a strong opinion. I remained in suspense, as
became one of my cloth; but Mr. Mackellar's docket
here has finally opened my eyes. I do not think, Mr.
Mackellar, that you and I will give him that much rope."

The rest of that important day passed prosperously
through. It was our policy to keep the enemy in view,
and I took my turn to be his watchman with the rest.
I think his spirits rose as he perceived us to be so atten-
tive : and I know that mine insensibly declined. What
chiefly daunted me was the man's singular dexterity to
worm himself into our troubles. You may have felt
(after a horse accident) the hand of a bone-setter art-
fully divide and interrogate the muscles, and settle
strongly on the injured place ? It was so with the Mas-

185

THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

ter's tongue that was so cunning to question, and his
eyes that were so quick to observe. I seemed to have
said nothing, and yet to have let all out. Before I knew
where I was, the man was condoling with me on my
lord's neglect of my lady and myself, and his hurtful in-
dulgence to his son. On this last point I perceived him
(with panic fear) to return repeatedly. The boy had
displayed a certain shrinking from his uncle; it was
strong in my mind his father had been fool enough to
indoctrinate the same, which was no wise beginning :
and when I looked upon the man before me, still so
handsome, so apt a speaker, with so great a variety of
fortunes to relate, I saw he was the very personage to
captivate a boyish fancy. John Paul had left only that
morning ; it was not to be supposed he had been alto-
gether dumb upon his favourite subject: so that here
would be Mr. Alexander in the part of Dido, with a
curiosity inflamed to hear; and there would be the Mas-
ter like a diabolical ;*Eneas, full of matter the most pleas-
ing in the world to any youthful ear, such as battles,
sea-disasters, flights, the forests of the west, and (since
his later voyage) the ancient cities of the Indies. How
cunningly these baits might be employed, and what an
empire might be so founded, little by little, in the mind
of any boy, stood obviously clear to me. There was no
inhibition, so long as the man was in the house, that
would be strong enough to hold these two apart ; for if
it be hard to charm serpents, it is no very difficult thing
to cast a glamour on a little chip of manhood not very
long in breeches. I recalled an ancient sailor-man who
dwelt in a lone house beyond the Figgate Whins (I be-
lieve he called it after Portobello), and how the boys

186

THE ENEMY IN THE HOUSE

would troop out of Leith on a Saturday, and sit and
listen to his swearing tales, as thick as crows about a
carrion : a thing I often remarked as I went by, a young
student, on my own more meditative holiday diversion.
Many of these boys went, no doubt, in the face of an
express command ; many feared and even hated the old
brute of whom they made their hero ; and I have seen
them flee from him when he was tipsy, and stone him
when he was drunk. And yet there they came each
Saturday! How much more easily would a boy like
Mr. Alexander fall under the influence of a high-look-
ing, high-spoken gentleman-adventurer, who should
conceive the fancy to entrap him; and, the influence
gained, how easy to employ it for the child's perversion !

I doubt if our enemy had named Mr. Alexander three
times, before I perceived which way his mind was aim-
ing,— all this train of thought and memory passed in one
pulsation through my own, — and you may say I started
back as though an open hole had gaped across a path-
way. Mr. Alexander: there was the weak point, there
was the Eve in our perishable paradise; and the serpent
was already hissing on the trail.

I promise you I went the more heartily about the
preparations; .my last scruple gone, the danger of delay
written before me in huge characters. From that mo-
ment forth, I seem not to have sat down or breathed.
Now I would be at my post with the Master and his
Indian ; now in the garret buckling a valise ; now send-
ing forth Macconochie by the side postern and the wood-
path to bear it to the trysting-place ; and again, snatch-
ing some words of counsel with my lady. This was the
verso of our life in Durrisdeer that day; but on the recta

187

THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

all appeared quite settled, as of a family at home in its
paternal seat; and what perturbation may have been
observable, the Master would set down to the blow of
his unlooked-for coming and the fear he was accustomed
to inspire.

Supper went creditably off, cold salutations passed,
and the company trooped to their respective chambers.
I attended the Master to the last. We had put him next
door to his Indian, in the north wing; because that was
the most distant and could be severed from the body
of the house with doors. I saw he was a kind friend
or a good master (whichever it was) to his Secundra
Dass: seeing to his comfort; mending the fire with his
own hand, for the Indian complained of cold; inquiring
as to the rice on which the stranger made his diet ; talk-
ing with him pleasantly in the Hindustanee, while I stood
by, my candle in my hand, and affected to be overcome
with slumber. At length the Master observed my sig-
nals of distress. " I perceive," says he, "that you have
all your ancient habits : early to bed and early to rise.
Yawn yourself away ! "

Once in my own room, I made the customary motions
of undressing, so that I might time myself; and when
the cycle was complete, set my tinder-box ready and
blew out my taper. The matter of an hour afterward,
I made a light again, put on my shoes of list that I had
worn by my lord's sick-bed, and set forth into the house
to call the voyagers. All were dressed and waiting, —
my lord, my lady, Miss Katharine, Mr. Alexander, my
lady's woman Christie; and I observed the effect of
secrecy even upon quite innocent persons, that one
after another showed in the chink of the door a face as

1 88

THE ENEMY IN THE HOUSE

white as paper. We slipped out of the side postern
into a night of darkness, scarce broken by a star or two ;
so that at first we groped and stumbled and fell among
the bushes. A few hundred yards up the wood-path,
Macconochie was waiting us with a great lantern ; so
the rest of the way we went easy enough, but still in
a kind of guilty silence. A little beyond the abbey, the
path debouched on the main road; and some quarter
of a mile farther, at the place called Eagles, where the
moors begin, we saw the lights of the two carriages
stand shining by the wayside. Scarce a word or two
was uttered at our parting, and these regarded business :
a silent grasping of hands, a turning of faces aside, and
the thing was over; the horses broke into a trot, the
lamplight sped like Will o' the Wisp upon the broken
moorland, it dipped beyond Stony Brae ; and there were
Macconochie and I alone with our lantern on the road.
There was one thing more to wait for; and that was
the reappearance of the coach upon Cartmore. It seems
they must have pulled up upon the summit, looked
back for a last time, and seen our lantern not yet moved
away from the place of separation. For a lamp was
taken from a carriage, and waved three times up and
down by way of a farewell. And then they were
gone indeed, having looked their last on the kind roof
of Durrisdeer, their faces toward a barbarous country.
I never knew, before, the greatness of that vault of
night in which we two poor serving-men, the one old
and the one elderly, stood for the first time deserted ; I
had never felt, before, my own dependency upon the
countenance of others. The sense of isolation burned
in my bowels like a fire. It seemed that we who remained

189

THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

at home were the true exiles ; and that Durrisdeer, and
Solwayside, and all that made my country native, its air
good to me, and its language welcome, had gone forth
and was for over the sea with my old masters.

The remainder of that night I paced to and fro on
the smooth highway, reflecting on the future and the
past. My thoughts, which at first dwelled tenderly on
those who were just gone, took a more manly temper
as I considered what remained for me to do. Day came
upon the inland mountain-tops, and the fowls began to
cry and the smoke of homesteads to arise in the brown
bosom of the moors, before I turned my face homeward
and went down the path to where the roof of Durris-
deer shone in the morning by the sea.

At the customary hour I had the Master called, and
awaited his coming in the hall with a quiet mind. He
looked about him at the empty room and the three
covers set.

"We are a small party, "said he. "How comes that?"

" This is the party to which we must grow accus-
tomed," I replied.

He looked at me with a sudden sharpness. "What
is all this ? " said he.

" You and I and your friend Mr. Dass are now all the
company," I replied. "My lord, my lady, and the
children are gone upon a voyage."

"Upon my word!" said he. "Can this be possi-
ble ? I have indeed fluttered your Volscians in Corioli !
But this is no reason why our breakfast should go cold.
Sit down, Mr. Mackellar, if you please" — taking, as he
spoke, the head of the table, which I had designed to

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THE ENEMY IN THE HOUSE

occupy myself — "and as we eat, you can give me the
details of this evasion."

I could see he was more affected than his language
carried, and I determined to equal him in coolness. "I
was about to ask you to take the head of the table,"
said I ; "for though I am now thrust into the position
of your host, I could never forget that you were, after
all, a member of the family."

For a while he played the part of entertainer, giving
directions to Macconochie, who received them with
an evil grace, and attending specially upon Secundra.
" And where has my good family withdrawn to ?" he
asked carelessly.

"Ah, Mr. Bally, that is another point!" said I. "I
have no orders to communicate their destination."

"To me," he corrected.

"To any one," said I.

"It is the less pointed," said the Master; "c'est de
bon ton : my brother improves as he continues. And
I, dear Mr. Mackellar ? "

"You will have bed and board, Mr. Bally," said I.
" I am permitted to give you the run of the cellar, which
is pretty reasonably stocked. You have only to keep
well with me, which is no very difficult matter, and
you shall want neither for wine nor a saddle-horse."

He made an excuse to send Macconochie from the
room.

" And for money ? " he inquired. " Have I to keep
well with my good friend Mackellar for my pocket-
money also ? This is a pleasing return to the prin-
ciples of boyhood."

"There was no allowance made," said I; "but I
191

THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

will take it on myself to see you are supplied in mod-
eration."

" In moderation ? " he repeated. "And you will take
it on yourself? " He drew himself up and looked about
the hall at the dark rows of portraits. " In the name of
my ancestors, I thank you," says he; and then, with a
return to irony: " But there must certainly be an allow-
ance for Secundra Dass ? " he said. " It is not possible
they have omitted that."

" I will make a note of it and ask instructions when
I write," said I.

And he, with a sudden change of manner, and leaning
forward with an elbow on the table: "Do you think this
entirely wise ? "

" I execute my orders, Mr. Bally," said I.

" Profoundly modest," said the Master: " perhaps not
equally ingenuous. You told me yesterday my power
was fallen with my father's death. How comes it, then,
that a peer of the realm flees under cloud of night out of
a house in which his fathers have stood several sieges ?
that he conceals his address, which must be a matter of
concern to his Gracious Majesty and to the whole re-
public ? and that he should leave me in possession, and
under the paternal charge of his invaluable Mackellar ?
This smacks to me of a very considerable and genuine
apprehension."

I sought to interrupt him with some not very truth-
ful denegation ; but he waved me down and pursued his
speech.

" I say it smacks of it," he said, " but I will go beyond
that, for I think the apprehension grounded. I came to
this house with some reluctancy. In view of the man-

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THE ENEMY IN THE HOUSE

ner of my last departure, nothing but necessity could
have induced me to return. Money, however, is that
which I must have. You will not give with a good
grace ; well, I have the power to force it from you. In-
side of a week, without leaving Durrisdeer, I will find
out where these fools are fled to. I will follow ; and
when I have run my quarry down, I will drive a wedge
into that family that shall once more burst it into shiv-
ers. I shall see then whether my Lord Durrisdeer " (said
with indescribable scorn and rage) "will choose to buy
my absence ; and you will all see whether, by that time,
I decide for profit or revenge."

I was amazed to hear the man so open. The truth is,
he was consumed with anger at my lord's successful
flight, felt himself to figure as a dupe, and was in no
humour to weigh language.

"Do you consider this entirely wise?" said I, copy-
ing his words.

' ' These twenty years I have lived by my poor wis-
dom," he answered with a smile that seemed almost
foolish in its vanity.

"And come out a beggar in the end," said I, "if
beggar be a strong enough word for it."

"I would have you to observe, Mr. Mackellar," cried
he, with a sudden, imperious heat in which I could not
but admire him, "that I am scrupulously civil: copy
me in that, and we shall be the better friends."

Throughout this dialogue I had been incommoded by
the observation of Secundra Dass. Not one of us, since
the first word, had made a feint of eating: our eyes
were in each other's faces — you might say, in each
other's bosoms ; and those of the Indian troubled me

THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

with a certain changing brightness, as of comprehension.
But I brushed the fancy aside : telling myself once more
he understood no English ; only, from the gravity of both
voices and the occasional scorn and anger in the Mas-
ter's, smelled out there was something of import in the
wind.

For the matter of three weeks we continued to live
together in the house of Durrisdeer: the beginning of
that most singular chapter of my life — what I must call
my intimacy with the Master. At first he was somewhat
changeable in his behaviour: now civil, now returning
to his old manner of flouting me to my face; and in both
I met him half way. Thanks be to Providence, I had
now no measure to keep with the man ; and I was never
afraid of black brows, only of naked swords. So that
I found a certain entertainment in these bouts of incivil-
ity, and was not always ill-inspired in my rejoinders.
At last (it was at supper) I had a droll expression that
entirely vanquished him. He laughed again and again ;
and "Who would have guessed," he cried, " that this
old wife had any wit under his petticoats ? "

" It is no wit, Mr. Bally," said I: "a dry Scot's hu-
mour, and something of the driest." And indeed I
never had the least pretension to be thought a wit.

From that hour he was never rude with me, but all
passed between us in a manner of pleasantry. One of
our chief times of daffmg* was when he required a
horse, another bottle, or some money; he would ap-
proach me then after the manner of a school-boy, and I
would carry it on by way of being his father: on both

* Fooling.
'94

THE ENEMY IN THE HOUSE

sides, with an infinity of mirth. I could not but per-
ceive that he thought more of me, which tickled that
poor part of mankind, the vanity. He dropped besides
(I must suppose unconsciously) into a manner that was
not only familiar, but even friendly; and this, on the
part of one who had so long detested me, I found the
more insidious. He went little abroad ; sometimes even
refusing invitations. "No," he would say, "what do
I care for these thick-headed bonnet-lairds ? I will stay
at home, Mackellar ; and we shall share a bottle quietly
and have one of our good talks." And indeed meal-
time at Durrisdeer must have been a delight to any one,
by reason of the brilliancy of the discourse. He would
often express wonder at his former indifference to my
society. " But you see," he would add, " we were upon
opposite sides. And so we are to-day ; but let us never
speak of that. I would think much less of you if you
were not staunch to your employer." You are to con-
sider, he seemed to me quite impotent for any evil ; and
how it is a most engaging form of flattery when (after
many years) tardy justice is done to a man's character
and parts. But I have no thought to excuse myself.
I was to blame; I let him cajole me; and, in short, I
think the watch-dog was going sound asleep, when he
was suddenly aroused.

I should say the Indian was continually travelling to
and fro in the house. He never spoke, save in his own
dialect and with the Master; walked without sound;
and was always turning up where you would least ex-
pect him fallen into a deep abstraction, from which he
would start (upon your coming) to mock you with one
of his grovelling obeisances. He seemed so quiet, so

»95

THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

frail, and so wrapped in his own fancies, that I came to
pass him over without much regard, or even to pity him
for a harmless exile from his country. And yet without
doubt the creature was still eavesdropping; and with-
out doubt it was through his stealth and my security
that our secret reached the Master.

It was one very wild night, after supper, and when
we had been making more than usually merry, that the
blow fell on me.

"This is all very fine," says the Master, "but we
should do better to be buckling our valise."

" Why so ?" I cried. " Are you leaving ?"

" We are all leaving to-morrow in the morning," said
he. "For the port of Glascow first: thence for the
province of New York."

I suppose I must have groaned aloud.

" Yes," he continued, " I boasted: I said a week, and
it has taken me near twenty days. But never mind : I
shall make it up; I will go the faster."

" Have you the money for this voyage ?" I asked.

"Dear and ingenuous personage, I have," said he.
" Blame me, if you choose, for my duplicity; but while
I have been wringing shillings from my daddy, I had a
stock of my own put by against a rainy day. You will
pay for your own passage, if you choose to accompany
us on our flank march ; I have enough for Secundra and
myself, but not more: enough to be dangerous, not
enough to be generous. There is, however, an outside
seat upon the chaise which I will let you have upon a
moderate commutation; so that the whole menagerie
can go together, the house-dog, the monkey, and the
tiger."

196

THE ENEMY IN THE HOUSE

"1 go with you," said I.

"I count upon it," said the Master. "You have
seen me foiled, I mean you shall see me victorious. To
gain that I will risk wetting you like a sop in this wild
weather."

"And at least," I added, "you know very well you
could not throw me off."

"Not easily, " said he. ' ' You put your finger on the
point with your usual excellent good sense. I never
fight with the inevitable. "

" I suppose it is useless to appeal to you," said I.

" Believe me, perfectly," said he.

" And yet if you would give me time, I could write — "
I began.

"And what would be my Lord Durrisdeer's answer ? "
asks he.

" Aye," said I, " that is the rub."

"And at any rate, how much more expeditious that
I should go myself ! " says he. " But all this is quite a
waste of breath. At seven to-morrow the chaise will
be at the door. For I start from the door, Mackellar;
I do not skulk through woods and take my chaise upon
the wayside — shall we say, at Eagles ?"

My mind was now thoroughly made up. " Can you
spare me quarter of an hour at St. Bride's ? " said I. "I
have a little necessary business with Carlyle."

"An hour, if you prefer," said he. "I do not seek
to deny that the money for your seat is an object to me ;
and you could always get the first to Glascow with
saddle-horses."

"Well," said I, "I never thought to leave old Scot-
land."

197

THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

"It will brisken you up," says he.

' ' This will be an ill journey for some one, " I said. ' ' I
think, sir, for you. Something speaks in my bosom;
and so much it says plain, That this is an ill-omened
journey."

"If you take to prophecy," says he, " listen to that."

There came up a violent squall off the open Solway,
and the rain was dashed on the great windows.

" Do ye ken what that bodes, warlock ?" said he, in
a broad accent: " that there'll be a man Mackellar unco
sick at sea."

When I got to my chamber, I sat there under a pain-
ful excitation, hearkening to the turmoil of the gale
which struck full upon that gable of the house. What
with the pressure on my spirits, the eldritch cries of the
wind among the turret-tops, and the perpetual trepida-
tion of the masoned house, sleep fled my eyelids utterly.
I sat by my taper, looking on the black panes of the
window where the storm appeared continually on the
point of bursting in its entrance; and upon that empty
field I beheld a perspective of consequences that made
the hair to rise upon my scalp. The child corrupted, the
home broken up, my master dead or worse than dead,
my mistress plunged in desolation, — all these I saw
before me painted brightly on the darkness; and the
outcry of the wind appeared to mock at my inaction.

198

MR. MACKELLAR'S JOURNEY
WITH THE MASTER

THE chaise came to the door in a strong drenching
mist. We took our leave in silence : the house of Dur-
risdeer standing with dropping gutters and windows
closed, like a place dedicate to melancholy. I observed
the Master kept his head out, looking back on these
splashed walls and glimmering roofs, till they were sud-
denly swallowed in the mist; and I must suppose some
natural sadness fell upon the man at this departure; or
was it some prevision of the end ? At least, upon our
mounting the long brae from Durrisdeer, as we walked
side by side in the wet, he began first to whistle and
then to sing the saddest of our country tunes, which sets
folk weeping in a tavern, Wandering Willie. The set
of words he used with it, I have not heard elsewhere,
and could never come by any copy ; but some of them
which were the most appropriate to our departure linger
in my memory. One verse began :

Home was home then, my dear, full of kindly faces ;
Home was home then, my dear, happy for the child.

And ended somewhat thus:

Now, when day dawns on the brow of the moorland,
Lone stands the house and the chimney-stone is cold.

Lone let it stand, now the folks are all departed,
The kind hearts, the true hearts, that loved the place of old.
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THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

I could never be a judge of the merit of these verses ;
they were so hallowed by the melancholy of the air,
and were sung (or rather "soothed ") to me by a master
singer at a time so fitting. He looked in my face when
he had done, and saw that my eyes watered.

" Ah, Mackellar," said he, " do you think I have never
a regret ? "

" I do not think you could be so bad a man," said I,
" if you had not all the machinery to be a good one."

"No, not all," says he: "not all. You are there in
error. The malady of not wanting, my evangelist."
But methought he sighed as he mounted again into the
chaise.

AH day long we journeyed in the same miserable
weather: the mist besetting us closely, the heavens
incessantly weeping on my head. The road lay over
moorish hills, where was no sound but the crying of
moor-fowl in the wet heather and the pouring of the
swollen burns. Sometimes I would doze off in slum-
ber, when I would find myself plunged at once in some
foul and ominous nightmare, from the which I would
awaken strangling. Sometimes, if the way was steep
and the wheels turning slowly, I would overhear the
voices from within, talking in that tropical tongue which
was to me as inarticulate as the piping of the fowls.
Sometimes, at a longer ascent, the Master would set
foot to ground and walk by my side, mostly without
speech. And all the time, sleeping or waking, I beheld
the same black perspective of approaching ruin; and
the same pictures rose in my view, only they were now
painted upon hillside mist. One, I remember, stood
before me with the colours of a true illusion. It showed

200

MR. MACKELLAR'S JOURNEY

me my lord seated at a table in a small room ; his head,
which was at first buried in his hands, he slowly raised,
and turned upon me a countenance from which hope
had fled. I saw it first on the black window panes,
my last night in Durrisdeer; it haunted and returned
upon me half the voyage through ; and yet it was no
effect of lunacy, for I have come to a ripe old age with no
decay of my intelligence ; nor yet (as I was then tempted
to suppose) a heaven-sent warning of the future, for all
manner of calamities befell, not that calamity — and I
saw many pitiful sights, but never that one.

It was decided we should travel on all night ; and it
was singular, once the dusk had fallen, my spirits some-
what rose. The bright lamps, shining forth into the
mist and on the smoking horses and the hodding post-
boy, gave me perhaps an outlook intrinsically more
cheerful than what day had shown; or perhaps my
mind had become wearied of its melancholy. At least,
I spent some waking hours, not without satisfaction in
my thoughts, although wet and weary in my body ; and
fell at last into a natural slumber without dreams. Yet
I must have been at work even in the deepest of my
sleep ; and at work with at least a measure of intelli-
gence. For I started broad awake, in the very act of
crying out to myself

Home was home then, my dear, happy for the child,

stricken to find in it an appropriateness, which I had
not yesterday observed, to the Master's detestable pur-
pose in the present journey.

We were then close upon the city of Glascow, where
we were soon breakfasting together at an inn, and

THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

where (as the devil would have it) we found a ship in
the very article of sailing. We took our places in the
cabin ; and, two days after, carried our effects on board.
Her name was the Nonesuch, a very ancient ship and
very happily named. By all accounts this should be her
last voyage ; people shook their heads upon the quays,
and I had several warnings offered me by strangers
in the street, to the effect that she was rotten as a
cheese, too deeply loaden, and must infallibly founder
if we met a gale. From this it fell out we were the
only passengers; the captain, McMurtrie, was a silent,
absorbed man with the Glascow or Gaelic accent; the
mates ignorant, rough seafarers, come in through the
hawsehole ; and the Master and I were cast upon each
other's company.

The Nonesuch carried a fair wind out of the Clyde,
and for near upon a week we enjoyed bright weather
and a sense of progress. I found myself (to my wonder)
a born seaman, in so far at least as I was never sick ; yet
I was far from tasting the usual serenity of my health.
Whether it was the motion of the ship on the billows,
the confinement, the salted food, or all of these together,
I suffered from a blackness of spirit and a painful strain
upon my temper. The nature of my errand on that ship
perhaps contributed ; I think it did no more : the malady
(whatever it was) sprang from my environment; and if
the ship were not to blame, then it was the Master.
Hatred and fear are ill bedfellows ; but (to my shame be
it spoken) I have tasted those in other places, lain down
and got up with them, and eaten and drunk with them,
and yet never before, nor after, have I been so poisoned
through and through, in soul and body, as I was on

202

MR. MACKELLAR'S JOURNEY

board the Nonesuch. I freely confess my enemy set me
a fair example of forbearance ; in our worst days dis-
played the most patient geniality, holding me in conver-
sation as long as I would suffer, and when I had rebuffed
his civility, stretching himself on deck to read. The
book he had on board with him was Mr. Richardson's
famous Clarissa; and among other small attentions he
would read me passages aloud; nor could any elocu-
tionist have given with greater potency the pathetic por-
tions of that work. I would retort upon him with
passages out of the Bible, which was all my library —
and very fresh to me, my religious duties (I grieve to
say it) being always and even to this day extremely
neglected. He tasted the merits of the work like the
connoisseur he was ; and would sometimes take it from
my hand, turn the leaves over like a man that knew his
way, and give me, with his fine declamation, a Roland
for my Oliver. But it was singular how little he applied
his reading to himself; it passed high above his head like
summer thunder: Lovelace and Clarissa, the tales of
David's generosity, the psalms of his penitence, the
solemn questions of the book of Job, the touching po-
etry of Isaiah — they were to him a source of entertain-
ment only, like the scraping of a fiddle in a change-
house. This outer sensibility and inner toughness set
me against him ; it seemed of a piece with that impudent
grossness which I knew to underlie the veneer of his fine
manners ; and sometimes my gorge rose against him as
though he were deformed — and sometimes I would
draw away as though from something partly spectral.
I had moments when I thought of him as of a man of
pasteboard — as though, if one should strike smartly

203

THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

through the buckram of his countenance, there would
be found a mere vacuity within. This horror (not
merely fanciful, I think) vastly increased my detestation
of his neighbourhood ; I began to feel something shiver
within me on his drawing near; I had at times a long-
ing to cry out ; there were days when I thought I could
have struck him. This frame of mind was doubtless
helped by shame, because I had dropped during our last
days at Durrisdeer into a certain toleration of the man ;
and if anyone had then told me I should drop into it
again, I must have laughed in his face. It is possible
he remained unconscious of this extreme fever of my re-
sentment ; yet I think he was too quick ; and rather that
he had fallen, in a long life of idleness, into a positive
need of company, which obliged him to confront and
tolerate my unconcealed aversion. Certain at least, that
he loved the note of his own tongue, as indeed he en-
tirely loved all the parts and properties of himself: a sort
of imbecility which almost necessarily attends on wick-
edness. I have seen him driven, when I proved recal-
citrant, to long discourses with the skipper: and this,
although the man plainly testified his weariness, fiddling
miserably with both hand and foot, and replying only
with a grunt.

After the first week out, we fell in with foul winds
and heavy weather. The sea was high. The None-
such, being an old-fashioned ship and badly loaden,
rolled beyond belief; so that the skipper trembled for
his masts and I for my life. We made no progress on
our course. An unbearable ill-humour settled on the
ship; men, mates and master, girding at one another
all day long. A saucy word on the one hand, and a

204

MR. MACKELLAR'S JOURNEY

blow on the other, made a daily incident. There were
times when the whole crew refused their duty ; and we
of the afterguard were twice got under arms (being the
first time that ever I bore weapons) in the fear of mutiny.
In the midst of our evil season sprang up a hurricane
of wind; so that all supposed she must go down. I
was shut in the cabin from noon of one day till sun-
down of the next; the Master was somewhere lashed
on deck. Secundra had eaten of some drug and lay in-
sensible ; so you may say I passed these hours in an un-
broken solitude. At first I was terrified beyond motion
and almost beyond thought, my mind appearing to be
frozen. Presently there stole in on me a ray of comfort.
If the Nonesuch foundered, she would carry down with
her into the deeps of that unsounded sea the creature
whom we all so feared and hated ; there would be no
more Master of Ballantrae, the fish would sport among
his ribs ; his schemes all brought to nothing, his harm-
less enemies at peace. At first, I have said, it was but
a ray of comfort; but it had soon grown to be broad
sunshine. The thought of the man's death, of his dele-
tion from this world which he embittered for so many,
took possession of my mind. I hugged it, I found it
sweet in my belly. I conceived the ship's last plunge,
the sea bursting upon all sides into the cabin, the brief
mortal conflict there, all by myself, in that closed place ;
I numbered the horrors, I had almost said with satis-
faction ; I felt I could bear all and more, if the Nonesuch
carried down with her, overtook by the same ruin, the
enemy of my poor master's house. Towards noon of
the second day, the screaming of the wind abated ; the
ship lay not so perilously over; and it began to be clear

205

THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

to me that we were past the height of the tempest. As
I hope for mercy, I was singly disappointed. In the
selfishness of that vile, absorbing passion of hatred, I
forgot the case of our innocent shipmates and thought
but of myself and my enemy. For myself, I was al-
ready old, I had never been young, I was not formed
for the world's pleasures, I had few affections ; it mat-
tered not the toss of a silver tester whether I was
drowned there and then in the Atlantic, or dribbled out
a few more years, to die, perhaps no less terribly, in a
deserted sick-bed. Down I went upon my knees, —
holding on by the locker, or else I had been instantly
dashed across the tossing cabin, — and, lifting up my
voice in the midst of that clamour of the abating hurri-
cane, impiously prayed for my own death. " O God,"
I cried, "I would be liker a man if I rose and struck
this creature down; but thou madest me a coward
from my mother's womb. O Lord, thou madest me
so, thou knowest my weakness, thou knowest that any
face of death will set me shaking in my shoes. But lo !
here is thy servant ready, his mortal weakness laid
aside. Let me give my life for this creature's; take
the two of them, Lord ! take the two, and have mercy
on the innocent! " In some such words as these, only
yet more irreverent and with more sacred adjurations,
I continued to pour forth my spirit ; God heard me not,
I must suppose in mercy; and I was still absorbed in
my agony of supplication, when some one, removing
the tarpaulin cover, let the light of the sunset pour into
the cabin. I stumbled to my feet ashamed, and was
seized with surprise to find myself totter and ache like
one that had been stretched upon the rack. Secundra

206

MR. MACKELLAR'S JOURNEY

Dass, who had slept off the effects of his drug, stood in
a corner not far off, gazing at me with wild eyes ; and
from the open skylight the captain thanked me for my
supplications.

"It's you that saved the ship, Mr. Mackellar," says
he. " There is no craft of seamanship that could have
kept her floating : well may we say : ' Except the Lord
the city keep, the watchmen watch in vain ! ' '

I was abashed by the captain's error; abashed, also,
by the surprise and fear with which the Indian regarded
me at first, and the obsequious civilities with which he
soon began to cumber me. I know now that he must
have overheard and comprehended the peculiar nature
of my prayers. It is certain, of course, that he at once
disclosed the matter to his patron; and looking back
with greater knowledge, I can now understand, what
so much puzzled me at the moment, those singular and
(so to speak) approving smiles with which the Master
honoured me. Similarly, I can understand a word that
I remember to have fallen from him in conversation that
same night; when, holding up his hand and smiling,
"Ah, Mackellar," said he, "not every man is so great
a coward as he thinks he is — nor yet so good a Chris-
tian." He did not guess how true he spoke! For the
fact is, the thoughts which had come to me in the vio-
lence of the storm retained their hold upon my spirit;
and the words that rose to my lips unbidden in the in-
stancy of prayer continued to sound in my ears : With
what shameful consequences, it is fitting I should hon-
estly relate ; for I could not support a part of such dis-
loyalty as to describe the sins of others and conceal my
own.

207

THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

The wind fell, but the sea hove ever the higher. AH
night the Nonesuch rolled outrageously; the next day
dawned, and the next, and brought no change. To
cross the cabin was scarce possible; old, experienced
seamen were cast down upon the deck, and one cruelly
mauled in the concussion ; every board and block in the
old ship cried out aloud ; and the great bell by the an-
chor-bitts continually and dolefully rang. One of these
days the Master and I sate alone together at the break
of the poop. • I should say the Nonesuch carried a high,
raised poop. About the top of it ran considerable bul-
warks, which made the ship unweatherly ; and these as
they approached the front on each side, ran down in a
fine, old-fashioned, carven scroll to join the bulwarks
of the waist. From this disposition, which seems de-
signed rather for ornament than use, it followed there
was a discontinuance of protection : and that, besides,
at the very margin of the elevated part where (in cer-
tain movements of the ship) it might be the most need-
ful. It was here we were sitting: our feet hanging
down, the Master betwixt me and the side, and I hold-
ing on with both hands to the grating of the cabin sky-
light ; for it struck me it was a dangerous position, the
more so as I had continually before my eyes a measure
of our evolutions in the person of the Master, which
stood out in the break of the bulwarks against the sun.
Now his head would be in the zenith and his shadow
fall quite beyond the Nonesuch on the further side ; and
now he would swing down till he was underneath my
feet, and the line of the sea leaped high above him like
the ceiling of a room. I looked on upon this with a
growing fascination, as birds are said to look on snakes.

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MR. MACKELLAR'S JOURNEY

My mind besides was troubled with an astonishing di-
versity of noises ; for now that we had all sails spread in
the vain hope to bring her to the sea, the ship sounded
like a factory with their reverberations. We spoke first
of the mutiny with which we had been threatened ; this
led us on to the topic of assassination ; and that offered
a temptation to the Master more strong than he was
able to resist. He must tell me a tale, and show me at
the same time how clever he was and how wicked.
It was a thing he did always with affectation and dis-
play ; generally with a good effect. But this tale, told
in a high key in the midst of so great a tumult, and by
a narrator who was one moment looking down at me
from the skies and the next peering up from under the
soles of my feet — this particular tale, I say, took hold
upon me in a degree quite singular.

"My friend the count," it was thus that he began
his story, "had for an enemy a certain German baron,
a stranger in Rome. It matters not what was the
ground of the count's enmity ; but as he had a firm
design to be revenged, and that with safety to himself,
he kept it secret even from the baron. Indeed that is
the first principle of vengeance ; and hatred betrayed is
hatred impotent. The count was a man of a curious,
searching mind; he had something of the artist; if any-
thing fell for him to do, it must always be done with
an exact perfection, not only as to the result but in the
very means and instruments, or he thought the thing
miscarried. It chanced he was one day riding in the
outer suburbs, when he came to a disused by-road
branching off into the moor which lies about Rome.
On the one hand was an ancient Roman tomb; on the

209

THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

other a deserted house in a garden of evergreen trees.
This road brought him presently into a field of ruins, in
the midst of which, in the side of a hill, he saw an open
door and (not far off) a single stunted pine no greater
than a currant-bush. The place was desert and very
secret: a voice spoke in the count's bosom that there
was something here to his advantage. He tied his horse
to the pine-tree, took his flint and steel in his hand to
make a light, and entered into the hill. The doorway
opened on a passage of old Roman masonry, which
shortly after branched in two. The count took the
turning to the right, and followed it, groping forward
in the dark, till he was brought up by a kind of fence,
about elbow-high, which extended quite across the
passage. Sounding forward with his foot, he found
an edge of polished stone, and then vacancy. All his
curiosity was now awakened, and, getting some rotten
sticks that lay about the floor, he made a fire. In front
of him was a profound well : doubtless some neighbour-
ing peasant had once used it for his water, and it was
he that had set up the fence. A long while the count
stood leaning on the rail and looking down into the
pit. It was of Roman foundation, and, like all that
nation set their hands to, built as for eternity: the
sides were still straight and the joints smooth ; to a man
who should fall in, no escape was possible. 'Now,'
the count was thinking, 'a strong impulsion brought
me to this place : what for ? what have I gained ? why
should I be sent to gaze into this well ? ' — when the rail
of the fence gave suddenly under his weight, and he
came within an ace of falling headlong in. Leaping
back to save himself, he trod out the last flicker of

2IO

MR. MACKELLAR'S JOURNEY

his fire, which gave him thenceforward no more light,
only an incommoding smoke. ' Was I sent here to my
death ? ' says he, and shook from head to foot. And then
a thought flashed in his mind. He crept forth on hands
and knees to the brink of the pit and felt above him in
the air. The rail had been fast to a pair of uprights;
it had only broken from the one, and still depended
from the other. The count set it back again as he
had found it, so that the place meant death to the first
comer; and groped out of the catacomb like a sick man.
The next day, riding in the Corso with the baron, he pur-
posely betrayed a strong preoccupation. The other (as
he had designed) inquired into the cause; and he (after
some fencing) admitted that his spirits had been dashed
by an unusual dream. This was calculated to draw on
the baron, — a superstitious man who affected the scorn
of superstition. Some rallying followed ; and then the
count (as if suddenly carried away) called on his friend
to beware, for it was of him that he had dreamed. You
know enough of human nature, my excellent Mackellar,
to be certain of one thing: I mean, that the baron did
not rest till he had heard the dream. The count (sure
that he would never desist) kept him in play till his
curiosity was highly inflamed, and then suffered him-
self with seeming reluctance to be overborne. ' I warn
you,' says he, 'evil will come of it; something tells me
so. But since there is to be no peace either for you or
me except on this condition, the blame be on your own
head! This was the dream. I beheld you riding, I
know not where, yet I think it must have been near
Rome, for on your one hand was an ancient tomb and
on the other a garden of evergreen trees. Methought I

THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

cried and cried upon you to come back in a very agony
of terror; whether you heard me, I know not, but you
went doggedly on. The road brought you to a desert
place among ruins : where was a door in a hillside, and
hard by the door a misbegotten pine. Here you dis-
mounted (I still crying on you to beware), tied your
horse to the pine-tree, and entered resolutely in by the
door. Within it was dark; but in my dream I could
still see you, and still besought you to hold back. You
felt your way along the right-hand wall, took a branch-
ing passage to the right, and came to a little chamber,
where was a well with a railing. At this (I know not
why) my alarm for you increased a thousandfold, so
that I seemed to scream myself hoarse with warnings,
crying it was still time and bidding you begone at once
from that vestibule. Such was the word I used in my
dream, and it seemed then to have a clear significancy ;
but to-day and awake, I profess I know not what it
means. To all my outcry you rendered not the least
attention, leaning the while upon the rail and looking
down intently in the water. And then there was made
to you a communication, I do not think I even gathered
what it was, but the fear of it plucked me clean out of
my slumber, and I awoke shaking and sobbing. And
now, ' continues the count, ' I thank you from my heart
for your insistancy. This dream lay on me like a load ;
and now I have told it in plain words and in the broad
daylight, it seems no great matter.' — 'I do not know,'
says the baron. ' It is in some points strange. A com-
munication, did you say ? Oh, it is an odd dream. It
will make a story to amuse our friends.' — 'I am not so
sure, ' says the count. ' I am sensible of some reluc-

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MR. MACKELLAR'S JOURNEY

tancy. Let us rather forget it.' — 'By all means,' says
the baron. And (in fact) the dream was not again re-
ferred to. Some days after, the count proposed a ride
in the fields, which the baron (since they were daily
growing faster friends) very readily accepted. On the
way back to Rome, the count led them insensibly by
a particular route. Presently he reined in his horse,
clapped his hand before his eyes, and cried out aloud.
Then he showed his face again (which was now quite
white, for he was a consummate actor) and stared upon
the baron. ' What ails you ? ' cries the baron. ' What
is wrong with you ? ' — ' Nothing,' cries the count. ' It
is nothing. A seizure, I know not what. Let us hurry
back to Rome.' But in the meanwhile the baron had
looked about him; and there, on the left-hand side of
the way as they went back to Rome, he saw a dusty
by-road with a tomb upon the one hand and a garden
of evergreen trees upon the other. — ' Yes,' says he, with
a changed voice. ' Let us by all means hurry back to
Rome. I fear you are not well in health.' — 'Oh, for
God's sake!' cries the count, shuddering. 'Back to
Rome and let me get to bed.' They made their return
with scarce a word; and the count, who should by
rights have gone into society, took to his bed and gave
out he had a touch of country fever. The next day the
baron's horse was found tied to the pine, but himself
was never heard of from that hour. — And now, was
that a murder ? " says the Master, breaking sharply off.

"Are you sure he was a count?" I asked.

" I am not certain of the title," said he, "but he was
a gentleman of family : and the Lord deliver you, Mac-
kellar, from an enemy so subtile! "

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THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

These last words he spoke down at me smiling, from
high above ; the next, he was under my feet. I con-
tinued to follow his evolutions with a childish fixity;
they made me giddy and vacant, and I spoke as in a
dream.

" He hated the baron with a great hatred ?" I asked.

"His belly moved when the man came near him,"
said the Master.

" I have felt that same," said I.

" Verily! " cries the Master. " Here is news indeed!
I wonder — do I flatter myself? or am I the cause of
these ventral perturbations ? "

He was quite capable of choosing out a graceful pos-
ture, even with no one to behold him but myself, and
all the more if there were any element of peril. He sat
now with one knee flung across the other, his arms on
his bosom, fitting the swing of the ship with an exqui-
site balance, such as a featherweight might overthrow.
All at once I had the vision of my lord at the table with
his head upon his hands ; only now, when he showed
me his countenance, it was heavy with reproach. The
words of my own prayer — I were liker a man if I struck
this creature down — shot at the same time into my
memory. I called my energies together, and (the ship
then heeling downward toward my enemy) thrust at
him swiftly with my foot. It was written I should have
the guilt of this attempt without the profit. Whether
from my own uncertainty or his incredible quickness,
he escaped the thrust, leaping to his feet and catching
hold at the same moment of a stay.

I do not know how long a time passed by : I lying
where I was upon the deck, overcome with terror and

214

MR. MACKELLAR'S JOURNEY

remorse and shame : he standing with the stay in his
hand, backed against the bulwarks, and regarding me
with an expression singularly mingled. At last he
spoke.

"Mackellar," said he, "I make no reproaches, but I
offer you a bargain. On your side, I do not suppose
you desire to have this exploit made public; on mine,
I own to you freely I do not care to draw my breath in
a perpetual terror of assassination by the man I sit at
meat with. Promise me — but no," says he, breaking
off, "you are not yet in the quiet possession of your
mind ; you might think I had extorted the promise from
your weakness; and I would leave no door open for
casuistry to come in — that dishonesty of the conscien-
tious. Take time to meditate."

With that he made off up the sliding deck like a squir-
rel and plunged into the cabin. About half an hour later
he returned : I still lying as he had left me.

"Now," says he, "will you give me your troth as a
Christian and a faithful servant of my brother's, that I
shall have no more to fear from your attempts ? "

"I give it you," said I.

" I shall require your hand upon it," says he.

"You have the right to make conditions," I replied,
and we shook hands.

He sat down at once in the same place and the old
perilous attitude.

"Hold on!" cried I, covering my eyes. "I cannot
bear to see you in that posture. The least irregularity
of the sea might plunge you overboard."

"You are highly inconsistent," he replied, smiling,
but doing as I asked. " For all that, Mackellar, I would

215

THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

have you to know you have risen forty feet in my es-
teem. You think I cannot set a price upon fidelity?
But why do you suppose I carry that Secundra Dass
about the world with me ? Because he would die or
do murder for me to-morrow; and I love him for it.
Well, you may think it odd, but I like you the better
for this afternoon's performance. I thought you were
magnetized with the Ten Commandments; but no —
God damn my soul!" — he cries, "the old wife has
blood in his body after all! — Which does not change
the fact," he continued, smiling again, "that you have
done well to give your promise ; for I doubt if you would
ever shine in your new trade."

"I suppose," said I, " I should ask your pardon and
God's for my attempt. At any rate I have passed my
word, which I will keep faithfully. But when I think of
those you persecute " I paused.

"Life is a singular thing," said he, "and mankind a
very singular people. You suppose yourself to love my
brother. I assure you it is merely custom. Interrogate
your memory ; and when first you came to Durrisdeer,
you will find you considered him a dull, ordinary youth.
He is as dull and ordinary now, though not so young.
Had you instead fallen in with me, you would to-day be
as strong upon my side."

"I would never say you were ordinary, Mr. Bally,"
I returned; "but here you prove yourself dull. You
have just shown your reliance on my word. In other
terms, that is my conscience — the same which starts
instinctively back from you, like the eye from a strong
light."

"Ah!" says he, "but I mean otherwise. I mean,
216

MR. MACKELLAR'S JOURNEY

had I met you in my youth. You are to consider I
was not always as I am to-day; nor (had I met in with
a friend of your description) should I have ever been
so."

" Hut, Mr. Bally," says I, " you would have made a
mock of me — you would never have spent ten civil
words on such a squaretoes."

But he was now fairly started on his new course of
justification, with which he wearied me throughout the
remainder of the passage. No doubt in the past he had
taken pleasure to paint himself unnecessarily black, and
made a vaunt of his wickedness, bearing it for a coat of
arms. Nor was he so illogical as to abate one item of
his old confessions. " But now that I know you are a
human being," he would say, "I can take the trouble
to explain myself. For I assure you I am human too,
and have my virtues like my neighbors." I say he
wearied me, for I had only the one word to say in
answer: twenty times I must have said it: " Give up
your present purpose and return with me to Durrisdeer;
then I wiil believe you."

Thereupon he would shake his head at me. "Ah,
Mackellar, you might live a thousand years and never
understand my nature," he would say. " This battle is
now committed, the hour of reflection quite past, the
hour for mercy not yet come. It began between us
when we span a coin in the hall of Durrisdeer now
twenty years ago ; we have had our ups and downs,
but never either of us dreamed of giving in ; and as for
me, when my glove is cast, life and honour go with
it."

"A fig for your honour!" I would say. "And by
217

THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

your leave, these warlike similitudes are something too
high-sounding for the matter in hand. You want some
dirty money, there is the bottom of your contention ;
and as for your means, what are they ? — to stir up
sorrow in a family that never harmed you, to debauch
(if you can) your own born nephew, and to wring the
heart of your born brother! A footpad that kills an old
granny in a woollen mutch with a dirty bludgeon, and
that for a shilling-piece and a paper of snuff — there is
all the warrior that you are."

When I would attack him thus (or somewhat thus) he
would smile and sigh like a man misunderstood. Once,
I remember, he defended himself more at large, and had
some curious sophistries, worth repeating for a light
upon his character.

" You are very like a civilian to think war consists in
drums and banners," said he. " War (as the ancients
said very wisely) is ultima ratio. When we take our
advantage unrelentingly, then we make war. Ah,
Mackellar, you are a devil of a soldier in the steward's
room at Durrisdeer, or the tenants do you sad injustice ! "

"I think little of what war is or is not," I replied.
" But you weary me with claiming my respect. Your
brother is a good man, and you are a bad one — neither
more nor less."

" Had I been Alexander " he began.

"It is so we all dupe ourselves," I cried. "Had I
been St. Paul, it would have been all one ; I would have
made the same hash of that career that you now see me
making of my own."

" I tell you," he cried, bearing down my interruption,
"had I been the least petty chieftain in the highlands,

218

MR. MACKELLAR'S JOURNEY

had I been the least king of naked negroes in the African
desert, my people would have adored me. A bad man,
am 1 ? Ah, but I was born for a good tyrant ! Ask Se-
cundra Dass ; he will tell you I treat him like a son. Cast
in your lot with me to-morrow, become my slave, my
chattel, a thing I can command as I command the powers
of my own limbs and spirit — you will see no more that
dark side that I turn upon the world in anger. I must
have all or none. But where all is given, I give it back
with usury. I have a kingly nature: there is my loss ! "

"It has been hitherto rather the loss of others," I
remarked; "which seems a little on the hither side of
royalty."

" Tilly-vally ! " cried he. "Even now, I tell you I
would spare that family in which you take so great an
interest: yes, even now, — to-morrow I would leave
them to their petty welfare, and disappear in that forest
of cut-throats and thimbleriggers that we call the world.
I would do it to-morrow ! " says he. ' ' Only — only "

"Only what?" I asked.

"Only they must beg it on their bended knees. I
think in public too," he added, smiling. " Indeed, Mac-
kellar, I doubt if there be a hall big enough to serve my
purpose for that act of reparation. "

" Vanity, vanity ! " I moralized. "To think that this
great force for evil should be swayed by the same sen-
timent that sets a lassie mincing to her glass ! "

" O, there are double words for everything; the word
that swells, the word that belittles : you cannot fight me
with a word ! " said he. " You said the other day that
I relied on your conscience: were I in your humour of
detraction, I might say I built upon your vanity. It is

219

THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

your pretension to be un homme de parole; 'tis mine
not to accept defeat. Call it vanity, call it virtue, call it
greatness of soul — what signifies the expression ? But
recognize in each of us a common strain ; that we both
live for an idea."

It will be gathered from so much familiar talk, and so
much patience on both sides, that we now lived to-
gether upon excellent terms. Such was again the fact,
and this time more seriously than before. Apart from
disputations such as that which I have tried to repro-
duce, not only consideration reigned, but I am tempted
to say even kindness. When I fell sick (as I did shortly
after our great storm) he sat by my berth, to entertain
me with his conversation, and treated me with excel-
lent remedies, which I accepted with security. Him-
self commented on the circumstance. " You see," says
he, "you begin to know me better. A very little
while ago, upon this lonely ship, where no one but my-
self has any smattering of science, you would have made
sure I had designs upon your life. And observe, it is
since I found you had designs upon my own, that I have
shown you most respect. You will tell me if this speaks
of a small mind." I found little to reply. In so far as
regarded myself, I believed him to mean well ; I am per-
haps the more a dupe of his dissimulation, but I be-
lieved (and I still believe) that he regarded me with
genuine kindness. Singular and sad fact! so soon as
this change began, my animosity abated, and these haunt-
ing visions of my master passed utterly away. So that,
perhaps, there was truth in the man's last vaunting
word to me, uttered on the second day of July, when
our long voyage was at last brought almost to an end,

220

MR. MACKELLAR'S JOURNEY

and we lay becalmed at the sea end of the vast harbour
of New York in a gasping heat which was presently ex-
changed for a surprising waterfall of rain. I stood on
the poop regarding the green shores near at hand, and
now and then the light smoke of the little town, our
destination. And as I was even then devising how to
steal a march on my familiar enemy, I was conscious of
a shade of embarrassment when he approached me with
his hand extended.

"I am now to bid you farewell," said he, "and that
forever. For now you go among my enemies, where
all your former prejudices will revive. I never yet failed
to charm a person when I wanted; even you, my good
friend — to call you so for once — even you have now a
very different portrait of me in your memory, and one
that you will never quite forget. The voyage has not
lasted long enough, or I should have wrote the impres-
sion deeper. But now all is at an end, and we are
again at war. Judge by this little interlude how dan-
gerous I am; and tell those fools" — pointing with his
finger to the town — "to think twice and thrice before
they set me at defiance."

221

PASSAGES AT NEW YORK

I HAVE mentioned I was resolved to steal a march
upon the Master; and this, with the complicity of Cap-
tain MacMurtrie, was mighty easily effected : a boat be-
ing partly loaded on the one side of our ship and the
Master placed on board of it, the while a skiff put off
from the other carrying me alone. I had no more
trouble in finding a direction to my lord's house,
whither I went at top speed, and which I found to
be on the outskirts of the place, a very suitable man-
sion, in a fine garden, with an extraordinary large barn,
byre and stable all in one. It was here my lord was
walking when I arrived; indeed it had become his
chief place of frequentation, and his mind was now
filled with farming. I burst in upon him breathless,
and gave him my news : which was indeed no news
at all, several ships having outsailed the Nonesuch in
the interval.

"We have been expecting you long," said my lord;
"and indeed, of late days, ceased to expect you any
more. 1 am glad to take your hand again, Mackellar.
I thought you had been at the bottom of the sea."

"Ah, my lord, would God I had! " cried I. "Things
would have been better for yourself."

PASSAGES AT NEW YORK

" Not in the least," says he grimly. " I could not ask
better. There is a long score to pay, and now — at last
— I can begin to pay it."

I cried out against his security.

"O," says he, "this is not Durrisdeer, and I have
taken my precautions. His reputation awaits him, I
have prepared a welcome for my brother. Indeed for-
tune has served me ; for I found here a merchant of Al-
bany who knew him after the '45 and had mighty con-
venient suspicions of a murder: some one of the name
of Chew it was, another Albanian. No one here will
be surprised if I deny him my door; he will not be suf-
fered to address my children, nor even to salute my
wife: as for myself, I make so much exception for a
brother that he may speak to me. I should lose my
pleasure else," says my lord, rubbing his palms.

Presently he bethought himself, and set men off run-
ning, with billets, to summon the magnates of the prov-
ince. I cannot recall what pretext he employed ; at least
it was successful; and when our ancient enemy ap-
peared upon the scene, he found my lord pacing in front
of his house under some trees of shade, with the gover-
nor upon one hand and various notables upon the other.
My lady, who was seated in the verandah, rose with a
very pinched expression and carried her children into
the house.

The Master, well dressed and with an elegant walking-
sword, bowed to the company in a handsome manner
and nodded to my lord with familiarity. My lord did
not accept the salutation, but looked upon his brother
with bended brows.

"Well, sir," says he, at last, "what ill wind brings
223

THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

you hither of all places, where (to our common dis-
grace) your reputation has preceded you?"

" Your lordship is pleased to be civil," cries the Mas-
ter, with a fine start.

"I am pleased to be very plain," returned my lord;
"because it is needful you should clearly understand
your situation. At home, where you were so little
known, it was still possible to keep appearances : that
would be quite vain in this province; and I have to tell
you that I am quite resolved to wash my hands of you.
You have already ruined me almost to the door, as you
ruined my father before me; — whose heart you also
broke. Your crimes escape the law ; but my friend the
governor has promised protection to my family. Have
a care, sir!" cries my lord, shaking his cane at him:
"if you are observed to utter two words to any of my
innocent household, the law shall be stretched to make
you smart for it."

" Ah ! " says the Master, very slowly. " And so this
is the advantage of a foreign land! These gentlemen
are unacquainted with our story, I perceive. They do
not know that I am the Lord Durrisdeer; they do not
know you are my younger brother, sitting in my place
under a sworn family compact; they do not know (or
they would not be seen with you in familiar corre-
spondence) that every acre is mine before God Almighty
— and every doit of the money you withhold from me,
you do it as a thief, a perjurer and a disloyal brother!"

"General Clinton," I cried, "do not listen to his lies.
I am the steward of the estate, and there is not one
word of truth in it. The man is a forfeited rebel turned
into a hired spy: there is his story in two words."

224

PASSAGES AT NEW YORK

It was thus that (in the heat of the moment) I let slip
his infamy.

" Fellow," said the governor, turning his face sternly
on the Master, "I know more of you than you think
for. We have some broken ends of your adventures in
the provinces, which you will do very well not to drive
me to investigate. There is the disappearance of Mr.
Jacob Chew with all his merchandise; there is the
matter of where you came ashore from with so much
money and jewels, when you were picked up by a
Bermudan out of Albany. Believe me, if I let these
matters lie, it is in commiseration for your family
and out of respect for my valued friend, Lord Durris-
deer."

There was a murmur of applause from the provin-
cials.

"I should have remembered how a title would shine
out in such a hole as this," says the Master, white as a
sheet: "no matter how unjustly come by. It remains
for me then to die at my lord's door, where my dead
body will form a very cheerful ornament"

"Away with your affectations!" cries my lord.
"You know very well I have no such meaning; only
to protect myself from calumny and my home from
your intrusion. I offer you a choice. Either I shall pay
your passage home on the first ship, when you may
perhaps be able to resume your occupations under
government, although God knows I would rather see
you on the highway ! Or, if that likes you not, stay
here and welcome ! I have inquired the least sum on
which body and soul can be decently kept together in
New York; so much you shall have, paid weekly; and

225

THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

if you cannot labour with your hands to better it, high
time you should betake yourself to learn ! The condi-
tion is, that you speak with no member of my family
except myself," he added.

I do not think I have ever seen any man so pale
as was the Master; but he was erect and his mouth
firm.

"I have been met here with some very unmerited
insults," said he, "from which I have certainly no idea
to take refuge by flight. Give me your pittance; I
take it without shame, for it is mine already — like the
shirt upon your back, and I choose to stay until these
gentlemen shall understand me better. Already they
must spy the cloven hoof ; since with all your pretended
eagerness for the family honour, you take a pleasure to
degrade it in my person."

"This is all very fine," says my lord; "but to us
who know you of old, you must be sure it signifies
nothing. You take that alternative out of which you
think that you can make the most. Take it, if you
can, in silence: it will serve you better in the long
run, you may believe me, than this ostentation of in-
gratitude."

" O, gratitude, my lord!" cries the Master, with a
mounting intonation and his forefinger very conspicu-
ously lifted up. "Be at rest: it will not fail you. It
now remains that I should salute these gentlemen whom
we have wearied with our family affairs."

And he bowed to each in succession, settled his
walking-sword, and took himself off, leaving every
one amazed at his behaviour, and me not less so at my
lord's.

226

PASSAGES AT NEW YORK

We were now to enter on a changed phase of this
family division. The Master was by no manner of
means so helpless as my lord supposed, having at his
hand and entirely devoted to his service, an excellent
artist in all sorts of goldsmith work. With my lord's
allowance, which was not so scanty as he had described
it, the pair could support life; and all the earnings of
Secundra Dass might be laid upon one side for any
future purpose. That this was done, I have no doubt.
It was in all likelihood the Master's design to gather a
sufficiency, and then proceed in quest of that treasure
which he had buried long before among the mountains ;
to which, if he had confined himself, he would have
been more happily inspired. But unfortunately for
himself and all of us, he took counsel of his anger.
The public disgrace of his arrival (which I sometimes
wonder he could manage to survive) rankled in his
bones; he was in that humour when a man (in the
words of the old adage) will cut off his nose to spite
his face ; and he must make himself a public spectacle,
in the hopes that some of the disgrace might spatter
on my lord.

He chose, in a poor quarter of the town, a lonely,
small house of boards, overhung with some acacias.
It was furnished in front with a sort of hutch opening,
like that of a dog's kennel, but about as high as a table
from the ground, in which the poor man that built it
had formerly displayed some wares; and it was this
which took the Master's fancy and possibly suggested
his proceedings. It appears, on board the pirate ship,
he had acquired some quickness with the needle : enough
at least to play the part of tailor in the public eye ; which
. 227

THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

was all that was required by the nature of his vengeance.
A placard was hung above the hutch, bearing these
words in something of the following disposition:

JAMES DURIE

FORMERLY MASTER OF BALLANTRAE
CLOTHES NEATLY CLOUTED.

SECUNDRA DASS
DECAYED GENTLEMAN OF INDIA

FINE GOLDSMITH WORK.

Underneath this, when he had a job, my gentleman
sat withinside tailor-wise and busily stitching. I say,
when he had a job ; but such customers as came were
rather for Secundra, and the Master's sewing would be
more in the manner of Penelope's. He could never
have designed to gain even butter to his bread by such
a means of livelihood : enough for him, that there was
the name of Durie dragged in the dirt on the placard,
and the sometime heir of that proud family set up cross-
legged in public for a reproach upon his brother's mean-
ness. And in so far his device succeeded, that there
was murmuring in the town and a party formed highly
inimical to my lord. My lord's favour with the gov-
ernor laid him more open on the other side; my lady
(who was never so well received in the colony) met
with painful innuendoes; in a party of women, where it
would be the topic most natural to introduce, she was
almost debarred from the naming of needlework; and 1
have seen her return with a flushed countenance and
vow that she would go abroad no more.

228

PASSAGES AT NEW YORK

In the meanwhile, my lord dwelled in his decent man-
sion, immersed in farming: a popular man with his in-
timates, and careless or unconscious of the rest. He
laid on flesh; had a bright, busy face; even the heat
seemed to prosper with him ; and my lady (in despite
of her own annoyances) daily blessed heaven her father
should have left her such a paradise. She had looked
on from a window upon the Master's humiliation ; and
from that hour appeared to feel at ease. I was not so
sure myself; as time went on there seemed to me a
something not quite wholesome in my lord's condition;
happy he was, beyond a doubt, but the grounds of this
felicity were secret; even in the bosom of his family,
he brooded with manifest delight upon some private
thought ; and I conceived at last the suspicion (quite un-
worthy of us both) that he kept a mistress somewhere in
the town. Yet he went little abroad, and his day was
very fully occupied ; indeed there was but a single period,
and that pretty early in the morning while Mr. Alexander
was at his lesson-book, of which I was not certain of the
disposition. It should be borne in mind, in the defence
of that which I now did, that I was always in some fear
my lord was not quite justly in his reason ; and with our
enemy sitting so still in the same town with us, I did
well to be upon my guard. Accordingly I made a pre-
text, had the hour changed at which I taught Mr. Alex-
ander the foundation of cyphering and the mathematic,
and set myself instead to dog my master's footsteps.

Every morning, fair or foul, he took his gold-headed
cane, set his hat on the back of his head — a recent hab-
itude, which I thought to indicate a burning brow — and
betook himself to make a certain circuit. At the first

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THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

his way was among pleasant trees and beside a grave-
yard, where he would sit a while, if the day were fine,
in meditation. Presently the path turned down to the
waterside and came back along the harbour front and
past the Master's booth. As he approached this second
part of his circuit, my Lord Durrisdeer began to pace
more leisurely, like a man delighted with the air and
scene; and before the booth, half way between that and
the water's edge, would pause a little leaning on his
staff. It was the hour when the Master sate within
upon his board and plied his needle. So these two
brothers would gaze upon each other with hard faces ;
and then my lord move on again, smiling to himself.

It was but twice that I must stoop to that ungrateful
necessity of playing spy. I was then certain of my
lord's purpose in his rambles and of the secret source of
his delight. Here was his mistress: it was hatred and
not love that gave him healthful colours. Some moral-
ists might have been relieved by the discovery, I confess
that I was dismayed. I found this situation of two
brethren not only odious in itself, but big with possibil-
ities of further evil ; and I made it my practice, in so far
as many occupations would allow, to go by a shorter
path and be secretly present at their meeting.

Coming down one day a little late, after I had been near
a week prevented, I was struck with surprise to find a
new development. I should say there was a bench
against the Master's house, where customers might sit
to parley with the shopman ; and here I found my lord
seated, nursing his cane and looking pleasantly forth
upon the bay. Not three feet from him sate the Master
stitching. Neither spoke; nor (in this new situation)

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PASSAGES AT NEW YORK

did my lord so much as cast a glance upon his enemy.
He tasted his neighbourhood, I must suppose, less indi-
rectly in the bare proximity of person; and without
doubt, drank deep of hateful pleasures.

He had no sooner come away than I openly joined
him.

"My lord, my lord," said I, "this is no manner of
behaviour."

" I grow fat upon it," he replied; and not merely the
words, which were strange enough, but the whole char-
acter of his expression shocked me.

" I warn you, my lord, against this indulgency of evil
feeling," said I. "I know not to which it is more
perilous, the soul or the reason : but you go the way to
murder both."

" You cannot understand," said he. " You had never
such mountains of bitterness upon your heart."

"And if it were no more," I added, "you will surely
goad the man to some extremity."

"To the contrary: I am breaking his spirit," says
my lord.

Every morning for hard upon a week, my lord took
his same place upon the bench. It was a pleasant place,
under the green acacias, with a sight upon the bay and
shipping, and a sound (from some way off) of mariners
singing at their employ. Here the two sate without
speech or any external movement, beyond that of the
needle or the Master biting off a thread, for he still
clung to his pretence of industry; and here I made a
point to join them, wondering at myself and my com-
panions. If any of my lord's friends went by, he would

231

THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

hail them cheerfully, and cry out he was there to give
some good advice to his brother, who was now (to his
delight) grown quite industrious. And even this, the
Master accepted with a steady countenance : what was in
his mind, God knows, or perhaps Satan only.

All of a sudden, on a still day of what they call the
Indian Summer, when the woods were changed into
gold and pink and scarlet, the Master laid down his
needle and burst into a fit of merriment. I think he
must have been preparing it a long while in silence,
for the note in itself was pretty naturally pitched ; but
breaking suddenly from so extreme a silence and in cir-
cumstances so averse from mirth, it sounded ominously
on my ear.

" Henry," said he, " I have for once made a false step,
and for once you have had the wit to profit by it. The
farce of the cobbler ends to-day ; and I confess to you
(with my compliments) that you have had the best of it.
Blood will out ; and you have certainly a choice idea of
how to make yourself unpleasant."

Never a word said my lord ; it was just as though the
Master had not broken silence.

"Come," resumed the Master, "do not be sulky, it
will spoil your attitude. You can now afford (believe
me) to be a little gracious; for I have not merely a de-
feat to accept. I had meant to continue this perform-
ance till I had gathered enough money for a certain
purpose ; I confess ingenuously, I have not the courage.
You naturally desire my absence from this town ; I have
come round by another way to the same idea. And I
have a proposition to make ; or if your lordship prefers,
a favour to ask."

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PASSAGES AT NEW YORK

"Ask it," says my lord.

" You may have heard that I had once in this country
a considerable treasure," returned the Master: " it mat-
ters not whether or no — such is the fact ; and I was
obliged to bury it in a spot of which I have sufficient
indications. To the recovery of this, has my ambition
now come down ; and as it is my own, you will not
grudge it me."

" Go and get it," says my lord. " I make no opposi-
tion."

" Yes," said the Master, "but to do so I must find men
and carriage. The way is long and rough, and the coun-
try infested with wild Indians. Advance me only so
much as shall be needful : either as a lump sum, in lieu
of my allowance ; or if you prefer it, as a loan, which I
shall repay on my return. And then, if you so decide,
you may have seen the last of me."

My lord stared him steadily in the eyes ; there was a
hard smile upon his face, but he uttered nothing.

"Henry, "said the Master, with a formidable quiet-
ness, and drawing at the same time somewhat back —
" Henry, I had the honour to address you."

" Let us be stepping homeward," says my lord to me,
who was plucking at his sleeve ; and with that he rose,
stretched himself, settled his hat, and still without a
syllable of response, began to walk steadily along the
shore.

I hesitated awhile between the two brothers, so seri-
ous a climax did we seem to have reached. But the
Master had resumed his occupation, his eyes lowered,
his hand seemingly as deft as ever; and I decided to
pursue my lord.

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THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

"Are you mad?" I cried, so soon as I had overtook
him. "Would you cast away so fair an opportunity ? "

"Is it possible you should still believe in him ?" in-
quired my lord, almost with a sneer.

" I wish him forth of this town," I cried. " I wish him
anywhere and anyhow but as he is."

" I have said my say," returned my lord, "and you
have said yours. There let it rest."

But I was bent on dislodging the Master. That sight
of him patiently returning to his needlework was more
than my imagination could digest. There was never a
man made, and the Master the least of any, that could
accept so long a series of insults. The air smelt blood
to me. And I vowed there should be no neglect of mine
if, through any chink of possibility, crime could be yet
turned aside. That same day, therefore, I came to my
lord in his business room, where he sat upon some
trivial occupation.

"My lord," said I, "I have found a suitable invest-
ment for my small economies. But these are unhappily
in Scotland ; it will take some time to lift them, and the
affair presses. Could your lordship see his way to ad-
vance me the amount against my note ? "

He read me awhile with keen eyes. "I have never
inquired into the state of your affairs, Mackellar," says
he. ' ' Beyond the amount of your caution, you may
not be worth a farthing, for what I know."

" I have been a long while in your service, and never
told a lie, nor yet asked a favour for myself," said I,
"until to-day."

"A favour for the Master," he returned quietly.
"Do you take me for a fool, Mackellar? Understand

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PASSAGES AT NEW YORK

it once and for all ; I treat this beast in my own way ;
fear nor favour shall not move me; and before I am
hoodwinked, it will require a trickster less transparent
than yourself. I ask service, loyal service ; not that you
should make and mar behind my back, and steal my
own money to defeat me."

"My lord," said I, "these are very unpardonable ex-
pressions."

"Think once more, Mackellar," he replied; "and
you will see they fit the fact. It is your own subter-
fuge that is unpardonable. Deny (if you can) that you
designed this money to evade my orders with, and I
will ask your pardon freely. If you cannot, you must
have the resolution to hear your conduct go by its own
name."

" If you think I had any design but to save you ..."
I began.

"O, my old friend," said he, "you know very well
what I think! Here is my hand to you with all my
heart; but of money, not one rap."

Defeated upon this side, I went straight to my room,
wrote a letter, ran with it to the harbour, for I knew a
ship was on the point of sailing: and came to the Mas-
ter's door a little before dusk. Entering without the
form of any knock, I found him sitting with his Indian
at a simple meal of maize porridge with some milk.
The house within was clean and poor; only a few
books upon a shelf distinguished it, and (in one corner)
Secundra's little bench.

"Mr. Bally,"said I, " I have near five hundred pounds
laid by in Scotland, the economies of a hard life. A
letter goes by yon ship to have it lifted ; have so much

THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

patience till the return ship comes in, and it is all yours,
upon the same condition you offered to my lord this
morning."

He rose from the table, came forward, took me by
the shoulders, and looked me in the face, smiling.

"And yet you are very fond of money!" said he.
"And yet you love money beyond all things else, ex-
cept my brother!"

"I fear old age and poverty," said I, "which is an-
other matter."

"I will never quarrel for a name. Call it so ! " he re-
plied. "Ah, Mackellar, Mackellar, if this were done
from any love to me, how gladly would I close upon
your offer!"

"And yet," I eagerly answered — "I say it to my
shame, but I cannot see you in this poor place without
compunction. It is not my single thought, nor my first;
and yet it's there ! I would gladly see you delivered.
I do not offer it in love, and far from that; but as God
judges me — and I wonder at it too! — quite without
enmity."

"Ah," says he, still holding my shoulders and now
gently shaking me, "you think of me more than you
suppose. ' And I wonder at it too,' " he added, repeat-
ing my expression and I suppose something of my voice.
' ' You are an honest man, and for that cause I spare you. "

"Spare me ?" I cried.

" Spare you," he repeated, letting me go and turning
away. And then, fronting me once more : "You little
know what I would do with it, Mackellar! Did you
think I had swallowed my defeat indeed ? Listen : my
life has been a series of unmerited cast-backs. That

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PASSAGES AT NEW YORK

fool, Prince Charlie, mismanaged a most promising af-
fair: there fell my first fortune. In Paris I had my foot
once more high upon the ladder: that time it was an ac-
cident, a letter came to the wrong hand, and I was bare
again. A third time, I found my opportunity; I built
up a place for myself in India with an infinite patience ;
and then Clive came, my rajah was swallowed up, and
I escaped out of the convulsion, like another ./Eneas,
with Secundra Dass upon my back. Three times I have
had my hand upon the highest station; and I am not
yet three and forty. I know the world as few men
know it when they come to die, court and camp, the
east and the west ; I know where to go, I see a thou-
sand openings. I am now at the height of my resources,
sound of health, of inordinate ambition. Well, all this
I resign ; I care not if I die and the world never hear of
me ; I care only for one thing, and that I will have. Mind
yourself : lest, when the roof falls, you too should be
crushed under the ruins."

As I came out of his house, all hope of intervention
quite destroyed, I was aware of a stir on the harbour
side, and raising my eyes, there was a great ship newly
come to anchor. It seems strange I could have looked
upon her with so much indifference, for she brought
death to the brothers of Durrisdeer. After all the des-
perate episodes of this contention, the insults, the op-
posing interests, the fraternal duel in the shrubbery, it
was reserved for some poor devil in Grub Street, scrib-
bling for his dinner and not caring what he scribbled, to
cast a spell across four thousand miles of the salt sea,
and send forth both these brothers into savage and

237

THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

wintry deserts, there to die. But such a thought was
distant from my mind; and while all the provincials
were fluttered about me by the unusual animation of
their port, I passed throughout their midst on my return
homeward, quite absorbed in the recollection of my
visit and-the Master's speech.

The same night there was brought to us from the
ship a little packet of pamphlets. The next day, my
lord was under engagement to go with the governor
upon some party of pleasure ; the time was nearly due,
and I left him for a moment alone in his room and
skimming through the pamphlets. When I returned
his head had fallen upon the table, his arms lying abroad
amongst the crumpled papers.

"My lord, my lord!" I cried as I ran forward, for I
supposed he was in some fit.

He sprang up like a figure upon wires, his counte-
nance deformed with fury, so that in a strange place I
should scarce have known him. His hand at the same
time flew above his head, as though to strike me down.
" Leave me alone! " he screeched; and I fled, as fast as
my shaking legs would bear me, for my lady. She too
lost no time; but when we returned he had the door
locked within, and only cried to us from the other side
to leave him be. We looked in each other's faces, very
white : each supposing the blow had come at last.

"I will write to the governor to excuse him," says
she. "We must keep our strong friends." But when
she took up the pen, it flew out of her fingers. "I can-
not write," said she. "Can you ?"

" I will make a shift, my lady," said I.

She looked over me as I wrote. "That will do," she
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PASSAGES AT NEW YORK

said, when I had done. " Thank God, Mackellar, I have
you to lean upon ! But what can it be now ? what,
what can it be?"

In my own mind, I believed there was no explanation
possible and none required: it was my fear that the
man's madness had now simply burst forth its way,
like the long smothered flames of a volcano ; but to this
(in mere mercy to my lady) I durst not give expression.

"It is more to the purpose to consider our own be-
haviour," said I. "Must we leave him there alone?"

"I do not dare disturb him," she replied. "Nature
may know best ; it may be nature that cries to be alone ;
— and we grope in the dark. O yes, I would leave him
as he is."

" I will then despatch this letter, my lady, and return
here, if you please, to sit with you," said I.

" Pray do," cries my lady.

All afternoon we sat together, mostly in silence, watch-
ing my lord's door. My own mind was busy with the
scene that had just passed, and its singular resemblance
to my vision. I must say a word upon this, for the
story has gone abroad with great exaggeration, and I
have even seen it printed and my own name referred to
for particulars. So much was the same : here was my
lord in a room, with his head upon the table, and when
he raised his face, it wore such an expression as dis-
tressed me to the soul. But the room was different, my
lord's attitude at the table not at all the same, and his
face, when he disclosed it, expressed a painful degree of
fury instead of that haunting despair which had always
(except once, already referred to) characterized it in the
vision. There is the whole truth at last before the pub-

239

THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

lie; and if the differences be great, the coincidence was
yet enough to fill me with uneasiness. All afternoon,
as I say, I sat and pondered upon this quite to myself;
for my lady had trouble of her own, and it was my last
thought to vex her with fancies. About the midst of
our time of waiting, she conceived an ingenious scheme,
had Mr. Alexander fetched and bid him knock at his
father's door. My lord sent the boy about his business,
but without the least violence whether of manner or
expression ; so that I began to entertain a hope the fit
was over.

At last, as the night fell and I was lighting a lamp that
stood there trimmed, the door opened and my lord stood
within upon the threshold. The light was not so strong
that we could read his countenance; when he spoke, me-
thought his voice a little altered but yet perfectly steady.

" Mackellar," said he, "carry this note to its destina-
tion with your own hand. It is highly private. Find
the person alone when you deliver it."

" Henry," says my lady, "you are not ill ?"

"No, no," says he, querulously, "I am occupied.
Not at all ; I am only occupied. It is a singular thing
a man must be supposed to be ill when he has any busi-
ness! Send me supper to this room, and a basket of
wine : I expect the visit of a friend. Otherwise I am
not to be disturbed."

And with that he once more shut himself in.

The note was addressed to one Captain Harris, at a
tavern on the portside. I knew Harris (by reputation)
for a dangerous adventurer, highly suspected of piracy
in the past, and now following the rude business of an
Indian trader. What my lord should have to say to

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PASSAGES AT NEW YORK

him, or he to my lord, it passed my imagination to con-
ceive : or yet how my lord had heard of him, unless by
a disgraceful trial from which the man was recently es-
caped. Altogether I went upon the errand with reluc-
tance, and from the little I saw of the captain, returned
from it with sorrow. I found him in a foul-smelling
chamber, sitting by a guttering candle and an empty
bottle; he had the remains of a military carriage, or
rather perhaps it was an affectation, for his manners
were low.

" Tell my lord, with my service, that I will wait upon
his lordship in the inside of half an hour," says he, when
he had read the note; and then had the servility, point-
ing to his empty bottle, to propose that I should buy
him liquor.

Although I returned with my best speed, the Captain
followed close upon my heels, and he stayed late into
the night. The cock was crowing a second time when
I saw (from my chamber window) my lord lighting him
to the gate, both men very much atfected with their
potations and sometimes leaning one upon the other to
confabulate. Yet the next morning my lord was abroad
again early with a hundred pounds of money in his
pocket. I never supposed that he returned with it;
and yet I was quite sure it did not find its way to the
Master, for I lingered all morning within view of the
booth. That was the last time my Lord Durrisdeer
passed his own enclosure till we left New York; he
walked in his barn or sat and talked with his family,
all much as usual ; but the town saw nothing of him,
and his daily visits to the Master seemed forgotten.
Nor yet did Harris reappear; or not until the end.

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THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

I was now much oppressed with a sense of the mys-
teries in which we had begun to move. It was plain,
if only from his change of habitude, my lord had some-
thing on his mind of a grave nature ; but what it was,
whence it sprang, or why he should now keep the
house and garden, I could make no guess at. It was
clear, even to probation, the pamphlets had some share
in this revolution ; I read all I could find, and they were
all extremely insignificant and of the usual kind of party
scurrility ; even to a high politician, I could spy out no
particular matter of offence, and my lord was a man
rather indifferent on public questions. The truth is,
the pamphlet which was the spring of this affair, lay
all the time on my lord's bosom. There it was that I
found it at last, after he was dead, in the midst of the
north wilderness: in such a place, in such dismal cir-
cumstances, I was to read for the first time these idle,
lying words of a whig pamphleteer declaiming against
indulgency to Jacobites: "Another notorious Rebel,

the M r of B e, is to have his Title restored,"

the passage ran. "This Business has been long in
hand, since he rendered some very disgraceful Services

in Scotland and France. His Brother, L d D r,

is known to be no better than himself in Inclination;
and the supposed Heir, who is now to be set aside,
was bred up in the most detestable Principles. In the
old Phrase, it is six of the one and half a do^en of the
other ; but the Favour of such a Reposition is too ex-
treme to be passed over." A man in his right wits
could not have cared two straws for a tale so manifestly
false ; that government should ever entertain the notion,
was inconceivable to any reasoning creature, unless

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PASSAGES AT NEW YORK

possibly the fool that penned it; and my lord, though
never brilliant, was ever remarkable for sense. That
he should credit such a rodomontade, and carry the
pamphlet on his bosom and the words in his heart, is
the clear proof of the man's lunacy. Doubtless the
mere mention of Mr. Alexander, and the threat directly
held out against the child's succession, precipitated that
which had so long impended. Or else my master
had been truly mad for a long time, and we were too
dull or too much used to him, and did not perceive the
extent of his infirmity.

About a week after the day of the pamphlets I was
late upon the harbour-side, and took a turn towards the
Master's, as I often did. The door opened, a flood of
light came forth upon the road, and I beheld a man tak-
ing his departure with friendly salutations. I cannot
say how singularly I was shaken to recognize the ad-
venturer Harris. I could not but conclude it was the
hand of my lord that had brought him there; and pro-
longed my walk in very serious and apprehensive
thought. It was late when I came home, and there
was my lord making up his portmanteau for a voyage.

"Why do you come so late ? " he cried. "We leave
to-morrow for Albany, you and I together; and it is
high time you were about your preparations."

"For Albany, my lord?" I cried. "And for what
earthly purpose?"

"Change of scene," said he.

And my lady, who appeared to have been weeping,
gave me the signal to obey without more parley. She
told me a little later (when we found occasion to ex-
change some words) that he had suddenly announced

243

THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

his intention after a visit from Captain Harris, and her
best endeavours, whether to dissuade him from the
journey or to elicit some explanation of its purpose,
had alike proved unavailing.

244

THE JOURNEY IN THE WILDERNESS

WE made a prosperous voyage up that fine river of
the Hudson, the weather grateful, the hills singularly
beautified with the colours of the autumn. At Albany
we had our residence at an inn, where I was not so
blind and my lord not so cunning but what I could see
he had some design to hold me prisoner. The work he
found for me to do was not so pressing that we should
transact it apart from necessary papers in the chamber
of an inn ; nor was it of such importance that I should
be set upon as many as four or five scrolls of the same
document. I submitted in appearance ; but I took pri-
vate measures on my own side, and had the news of
the town communicated to me daily by the politeness
of our host. In this way I received at last a piece of
intelligence for which, I may say, I had been waiting.
Captain Harris (I was told) with "Mr. Mountain the
trader " had gone by up the river in a boat. I would
have feared the landlord's eye, so strong the sense of
some complicity upon my master's part oppressed me.
But I made out to say I had some knowledge of the
captain, although none of Mr. Mountain, and to inquire
who else was of the party. My informant knew not;
Mr. Mountain had come ashore upon some needful pur-

245

THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

chases; had gone round the town buying, drinking, and
prating ; and it seemed the party went upon some likely
venture, for he had spoken much of great things he
would do when he returned. No more was known, for
none of the rest had come ashore, and it seemed they
were pressed for time to reach a certain spot before the
snow should fall.

And sure enough, the next day, there fell a sprinkle
even in Albany ; but it passed as it came, and was but
a reminder of what lay before us. I thought of it
lightly then, knowing so little as I did of that inclem-
ent province: the retrospect is different; and I wonder
at times it some of the horror of these events which I
must now rehearse flowed not from the foul skies and
savage winds to which we were exposed, and the agony
of cold that we must suffer.

The boat having passed by, I thought at first we
should have left the town. But no such matter. My
lord continued his stay in Albany where he had no os-
tensible affairs, and kept me by him, far from my due
employment, and making a pretence of occupation. It
is upon this passage I expect, and perhaps, deserve cen-
sure. I was not so dull but what I had my own thoughts.
I could not see the master entrust himself into the hands
of Harris, and not suspect some underhand contrivance.
Harris bore a villainous reputation, and he had been
tampered with in private by my lord; Mountain the
trader, proved upon inquiry, to be another of the same
kidney ; the errand they were all gone upon, being the
recovery of ill-gotten treasures, offered in itself a very
strong incentive to foul play ; and the character of the
country where they journeyed promised impunity to

246

THE JOURNEY IN THE WILDERNESS

deeds of blood. Well : it is true I had all these thoughts
and fears, and guesses of the Master's fate. But you are
to consider I was the same man that sought to dash him
from the bulwarks of a ship in the mid-sea ; the same
that, a little before, very impiously but sincerely offered
God a bargain, seeking to hire God to be my bravo. It
is true again that I had a good deal melted toward our
enemy. But this I always thought of as a weakness of
the flesh and even culpable ; my mind remaining steady
and quite bent against him. True yet again, that it was
one thing to assume on my own shoulders the guilt and
danger of a criminal attempt, and another to stand by
and see my lord imperil and besmirch himself. But this
was the very ground of my inaction. For (should I any-
way stir in the business) I might fail indeed to save the
Master, but I could not miss to make a byword of my
lord.

Thus it was that I did nothing ; and upon the same
reasons, I am still strong to justify my course. We lived
meanwhile in Albany, but though alone together in a
strange place, had little traffic beyond formal salutations.
My lord had carried with him several introductions to
chief people of the town and neighbourhood ; others he
had before encountered in New York : with this conse-
quence, that he went much abroad, and I am sorry to
say was altogether too convivial in his habits. I was
often in bed, but never asleep, when he returned; and
there was scarce a night when he did not betray the in-
fluence of liquor. By day he would still lay upon me
endless tasks, which he showed considerable ingenuity
to fish up and to renew, in the manner of Penelope's
web. I never refused, as I say, for I was hired to do

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THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

his bidding; but I took no pains to keep my penetra-
tion under a bushel, and would sometimes smile in his
face.

"I think I must be the devil and you Michael Scott,"
I said to him one day. "I have bridged Tweed and
split the Eildons ; and now you set me to the rope of
sand."

He looked at me with shining eyes and looked away
again, his jaw chewing; but without words.

" Well, well, my lord," said I, "your will is my plea-
sure. I will do this thing for the fourth time; but I
would beg of you to invent another task against to-
morrow, for by my troth, I am weary of this one."

"You do not know what you are saying," returned
my lord, putting on his hat and turning his back to
me. " It is a strange thing you should take a pleasure
to annoy me. A friend — but that is a different affair. It
is a strange thing. I am a man that has had ill-fortune
all my life through. I am still surrounded by contrivances.
I am always treading in plots, " he burst out. ' ' The whole
world is banded against me."

"I would not talk wicked nonsense if I were you,"
said I; "but I will tell you what I would do — I would
put my head in cold water, for you had more last night
than you could carry."

"Do ye think that?" said he, with a manner of in-
terest highly awakened. " Would that be good for me ?
It's a thing I never tried."

" I mind the days when you had no call to try, and I
wish, my lord, that they were back again, " said I. "But
the plain truth is, if you continue to exceed, you will do
yourself a mischief. "

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THE JOURNEY IN THE WILDERNESS

"I don't appear to carry drink the way I used to,"
said my lord. "I get overtaken, Mackellar. But I will
be more upon my guard."

" That is what I would ask of you," I replied. " You
are to bear in mind that you are Mr. Alexander's father:
give the bairn a chance to carry his name with some
responsibility."

"Ay, ay," said he. "Ye're a very sensible man,
Mackellar, and have been long in my employ. But I
think, if you have nothing more to say to me, I will be
stepping. If you have nothing more to say ? " he added,
with that burning, childish eagerness that was now so
common with the man.

"No, my lord, I have nothing more," said I, dryly
enough.

" Then I think I will be stepping," says my lord, and
stood and looked at me fidgeting with his hat, which he
had taken off again. " I suppose you will have no er-
rands ? No ? I am to meet Sir William Johnson, but
I will be more upon my guard." He was silent for a
time, and then, smiling: " Do you call to mind a place,
Mackellar — it's a little below Engles — where the burn
runs very deep under a wood of rowans ? I mind being
there when I was a lad — dear, it comes over me like an
old song ! — I was after the fishing, and I made a bonny
cast. Eh, but I was happy. I wonder, Mackellar, why
I am never happy now ? "

"My lord," said I, "if you would drink with more
moderation you would have the better chance. It is an
old byword that the bottle is a false consoler."

"No doubt," said he, "no doubt. Well, I think I
will be going."

249

THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

"Good-morning, my lord," said I.

" Good-morning, good-morning," said he, and so got
himself at last from the apartment.

I give that for a fair specimen of my lord in the morn-
ing: and I must have described my patron very ill if the
reader does not perceive a notable falling off. To be-
hold the man thus fallen : to know him accepted among
his companions for a poor, muddled toper, welcome (if
he were welcome at all) for the bare consideration of
his title ; and to recall the virtues he had once displayed
against such odds of fortune : was not this a thing at
once to rage and to be humbled at ?

In his cups, he was more excessive. I will give but
the one scene, close upon the end, which is strongly
marked upon my memory to this day, and at the time
affected me almost with horror.

I was in bed, lying there awake, when I heard him
stumbling on the stair and singing. My lord had no
gift of music, his brother had all the graces of the family,
so that when I say singing, you are to understand a
manner of high, carolling utterance, which was truly
neither speech nor song. Something not unlike is to
be heard upon the lips of children, ere they learn shame;
from those of a man grown elderly, it had a strange ef-
fect. He opened the door with noisy precaution ; peered
in, shading his candle; conceived me to slumber; en-
tered, set his light upon the table, and took off his hat.
I saw him very plain; a high, feverish exultation ap-
peared to boil in his veins, and he stood and smiled and
smirked upon the candle. Presently he lifted up his
arm, snapped his fingers, and fell to undress. As he did
so, having once more forgot my presence, he took back

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THE JOURNEY IN THE WILDERNESS

to his singing; and now I could hear the words, which
were those from the old song of the Twa Corbies end-
lessly repeated:

" And over his banes when they are bare
The wind sail blaw for evermair ! "

I have said there was no music in the man. His
strains had no logical succession except in so far as they
inclined a little to the minor mode; but they exercised
a rude potency upon the feelings, and followed the
words, and signified the feelings of the singer with bar-
baric fitness. He took it first in the time and manner
of a rant; presently this ill-favoured gleefulness abated,
he began to dwell upon the notes more feelingly, and
sank at last into a degree of maudlin pathos that was to
me scarce bearable. By equal steps, the original brisk-
ness of his acts declined; and when he was stripped to
his breeches, he sat on the bedside and fell to whimper-
ing. I know nothing less respectable than the tears of
drunkenness, and turned my back impatiently on this
poor sight.

But he had started himself (I am to suppose) on that
slippery descent of self-pity; on the which, to a man
unstrung by old sorrows and recent potations there is
no arrest except exhaustion. His tears continued to
flow, and the man to sit there, three parts naked, in the
cold air of the chamber. I twitted myself alternately
with inhumanity and sentimental weakness, now half
rising in my bed to interfere, now reading myself lessons
of indifference and courting slumber, until, upon a sudden,
the quantum mutatus ab illo shot into my mind; and
calling to remembrance his old wisdom, constancy, and
patience, I was overborne with a pity almost approach-
as i

THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

ing the passionate, not for my master alone but for the
sons of man.

At this I leaped from my place, went over to his side
and laid a hand on his bare shoulder, which was cold
as stone. He uncovered his face and showed it me all
swollen and begrutten * like a child's ; and at the sight
my impatience partially revived.

"Think shame to yourself," said I. "This is bairnly
conduct. I might have been snivelling myself, if I had
cared to swill my belly with wine. But I went to my
bed sober like a man. Come : get into yours and have
done with this pitiable exhibition."

" Oh, Mackellar," said he, "my heart is wae! "

" Wae ? " cried I. " For a good cause, I think. What
words were these you sang as you came in? Show
pity to others, we then can talk of pity to yourself. You
can be the one thing or the other, but I will be no party
to half-way houses. If you're a striker, strike, and if
you're a bleater, bleat!"

"Cry!" cries he, with a burst, "that's it — strike!
that's talking! Man, I've stood it all too long. But
when they laid a hand upon the child, when the child's
threatened" — his momentary vigour whimpering off —
"my child, my Alexander !" — and he was at his tears
again.

I took him by the shoulders and shook him. "Alex-
ander!" said I. "Do you even think of him? Not
you ! Look yourself in the face like a brave man, and
you'll find you're but a self-deceiver. The wife, the
friend, the child, they're all equally forgot, and you
sunk in a mere log of selfishness."

* Tear-marked.

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THE JOURNEY IN THE WILDERNESS

"Mackellar," said he, with a wonderful return to his
old manner and appearance, "you may say what you
will of me, but one thing I never was — I was never
selfish."

"I will open your eyes in your despite," said I.
"How long have we been here? and how often have
you written to your family ? I think this is the first time
you were ever separate : have you written at all ? Do
they know if you are dead or living?"

I had caught him here too openly ; it braced his bet-
ter nature ; there was no more weeping, he thanked me
very penitently, got to bed and was soon fast asleep;
and the first thing he did the next morning was to sit
down and begin a letter to my lady : a very tender letter
it was too, though it was never finished. Indeed all
communication with New York was transacted by my-
self; and it will be judged I had a thankless task of it.
What to tell my lady and in what words, and how far
to be false and how far cruel, was a thing that kept me
often from my slumber.

All this while, no doubt, my lord waited with grow-
ing impatiency for news of his accomplices. Harris, it
is to be thought, had promised a high degree of expe-
dition ; the time was already overpast when word was
to be looked for; and suspense was a very evil coun-
sellor to a man of an impaired intelligence. My lord's
mind throughout this interval dwelled almost wholly in
the Wilderness, following that party with whose deeds
he had so much concern. He continually conjured up
their camps and progresses, the fashion of the country,
the perpetration in a thousand different manners of the
same horrid fact, and that consequent spectacle of the

253

THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

Master's bones lying scattered in the wind. These pri-
vate, guilty considerations I would continually observe
to peep forth in the man's talk, like rabbits from a hill.
And it is the less wonder if the scene of his meditations
began to draw him bodily.

It is well known what pretext he took. Sir William
Johnson had a diplomatic errand in these parts; and my
lord and I (from curiosity, as was given out) went in
his company. Sir William was well attended and lib-
erally supplied. Hunters brought us venison, fish was
taken for us daily in the streams, and brandy ran like
water. We proceeded by day and encamped by night
in the military style; sentinels were set and changed;
every man had his named duty ; and Sir William was
the spring of all. There was much in this that might
at times have entertained me; but for our misfortune,
the weather was extremely harsh, the days were in the
beginning open, but the nights frosty from the first A
painful keen wind blew most of the time, so that we
sat in the boat with blue fingers, and at night, as we
scorched our faces at the fire, the clothes upon our back
appeared to be of paper. A dreadful solitude surrounded
our steps ; the land was quite dispeopled, there was no
smoke of fires, and save for a single boat of merchants
on the second day, we met no travellers. The season
was indeed late, but this desertion of the waterways
impressed Sir William himself; and I have heard him
more than once express a sense of intimidation. "I
have come too late I fear; they must have dug up the
hatchet," he said; and the future proved how justly he
had reasoned.

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THE JOURNEY IN THE WILDERNESS

I could never depict the blackness of my soul upon
this journey. I have none of those minds that are in
love with the unusual : to see the winter coming and to
lie in the field so far from any house, oppressed me like
a nightmare ; it seemed, indeed, a kind of awful braving
of God's power; and this thought, which I daresay only
writes me down a coward, was greatly exaggerated by
my private knowledge of the errand we were come
upon. I was besides encumbered by my duties to Sir
William, whom it fell upon me to entertain; for my
lord was quite sunk into a state bordering onper-vigilium,
watching the woods with a rapt eye, sleeping scarce
at all, and speaking sometimes not twenty words in a
whole day. That which he said was still coherent; but
it turned almost invariably upon the party for whom he
kept his crazy lookout. He would tell Sir William often,
and always as if it were a new communication, that he
had "a brother somewhere in the woods," and beg
that the sentinels should be directed "to inquire for
him." "I am anxious for news of my brother," he
would say. And sometimes, when we were under
way, he would fancy he spied a canoe far off upon the
water or a camp on the shore, and exhibit painful agi-
tation. It was impossible but Sir William should be
struck with these singularities; and at last he led me
aside, and hinted his uneasiness. I touched my head
and shook it ; quite rejoiced to prepare a little testimony
against possible disclosures.

"But in that case," cries Sir William, "is it wise to
let him go at large ? "

"Those that know him best," said I "are persuaded
that he should be humoured."

255

THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

"Well, well," replied Sir William, "it is none of my
affairs. But if I had understood, you would never have
been here."

Our advance into this savage country had thus un-
eventfully proceeded for about a week, when we en-
camped for a night at a place where the river ran among
considerable mountains clothed in wood. The fires
were lighted on a level space at the water's edge ; and
we supped and lay down to sleep in the customary
fashion. It chanced the night fell murderously cold;
the stringency of the frost seized and bit me through my
coverings, so that pain kept me wakeful; and I was
afoot again before the peep of day, crouching by the
fires or trotting to and fro at the stream's edge, to com-
bat the aching of my limbs. At last dawn began to
break upon hoar woods and mountains, the sleepers
rolled in their robes, and the boisterous river dashing
among spears of ice. I stood looking about me, swad-
dled in my stiff coat of a bull's fur, and the breath
smoking from my scorched nostrils, when, upon a sud-
den, a singular, eager cry rang from the borders of the
wood. The sentries answered it, the sleepers sprang
to their feet ; one pointed, the rest followed his direc-
tion with their eyes, and there, upon the edge of the
forest and betwixt two trees, we beheld the figure of a
man reaching forth his hands like one in ecstacy. The
next moment he ran forward, fell on his knees at the
side of the camp, and burst in tears.

This was John Mountain, the trader, escaped from
the most horrid perils ; and his first word, when he got
speech, was to ask if we had seen Secundra Dass.

"Seen what?" cries Sir William.
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THE JOURNEY IN THE WILDERNESS

"No," said I, "we have seen nothing of him.
Why?"

"Nothing?" says Mountain. "Then I was right
after all." With that he struck his palm upon his brow.
" But what takes him back ?" he cried. " What takes
the man back among dead bodies ? There is some
damned mystery here."

This was a word which highly aroused our curiosity,
but I shall be more perspicacious, if I narrate these in-
cidents in their true order. Here follows a narrative
which I have compiled out of three sources, not very
consistent in all points :

First, a written statement by Mountain, in which
everything criminal is cleverly smuggled out of view ;

Second, two conversations with Secundra Dass ; and,

Third, many conversations with Mountain himself,
in which he was pleased to be entirely plain; for the
truth is he regarded me as an accomplice.

NARRATIVE OF THE TRADER, MOUNTAIN.

The crew that went up the river under the joint com-
mand of Captain Harris and the Master numbered in all
nine persons, of whom (if I except Secundra Dass) there
was not one that had not merited the gallows. From
Harris downward the voyagers were notorious in that
colony for desperate, bloody-minded miscreants; some
were reputed pirates, the most hawkers of rum; all
ranters and drinkers; all fit associates, embarking to-
gether without remorse, upon this treacherous and
murderous design. I could not hear there was much

THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

discipline or any set captain in the gang; but Harris
and four others, Mountain himself, two Scotchmen —
Pinkerton and Hastie — and a man of the name of
Hicks, a drunken shoemaker, put their heads together
and agreed upon the course. In a material sense, they
were well enough provided ; and the Master in particu-
lar, brought with him a tent where he might enjoy
some privacy and shelter.

Even this small indulgence told against him in the
minds of his companions. But indeed he was in a posi-
tion so entirely false (and even ridiculous) that all his
habit of command and arts of pleasing were here thrown
away. In the eyes of all, except Secundra Dass, he fig-
ured as a common gull and designated victim ; going
unconsciously to death; yet he could not but suppose
himself the contriver and the leader of the expedition ;
he could scarce help but so conduct himself; and at the
least hint of authority or condescension, his deceivers
would be laughing in their sleeves. I was so used to
see and to conceive him in a high, authoritative attitude,
that when I had conceived his position on this journey,
I was pained and could have blushed. How soon he
may have entertained a first surmise, we cannot know ;
but it was long, and the party had advanced into the
Wilderness beyond the reach of any help, ere he was
fully awakened to the truth.

It fell thus. Harris and some others had drawn apart
into the woods for consultation, when they were startled
by a rustling in the brush. They were all accustomed
to the arts of Indian warfare, and Mountain had not
only lived and hunted, but fought and earned some
reputation, with the savages. He could move in the

258

THE JOURNEY IN THE WILDERNESS

woods without noise, and follow a trail like a hound;
and upon the emergence of this alert, he was deputed
by the rest to plunge into the thicket for intelligence.
He was soon convinced there was a man in his close
neighbourhood, moving with precaution but without art
among the leaves and branches; and coming shortly to
a place of advantage, he was able to observe Secundra
Dass crawling briskly off with many backward glances.
At this he knew not whether to laugh or cry ; and his
accomplices, when he had returned and reported, were
in much the same dubiety. There was now no danger
of an Indian onslaught; but on the other hand, since
Secundra Dass was at the pains to spy upon them, it
was highly probable he knew English, and if he knew
English it was certain the whole of their design was in
the Master's knowledge. There was one singularity in
the position. If Secundra Dass knew and concealed his
knowledge of English, Harris was a proficient in several
of the tongues of India, and as his career in that part of
the world had been a great deal worse than profligate,
he had not thought proper to remark upon the circum-
stance. Each side had thus a spy-hole on the counsels
of the other. The plotters, so soon as this advantage
was explained, returned to camp; Harris, hearing the
Hindustani was once more closeted with his master,
crept to the side of the tent; and the rest, sitting about
the fire with their tobacco, awaited his report with im-
patience. When he came at last, his face was very
black. He had overheard enough to confirm the worst
of his suspicions. Secundra Dass was a good English
scholar; he had been some days creeping and listening,
the Master was now fully informed of the conspiracy,

259

THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

and the pair proposed on the morrow to fall out of line
at a carrying place and plunge at a venture in the woods :
preferring the full risk of famine, savage beasts, and sav-
age men to their position in the midst of traitors.

What, then, was to be done ? Some were for killing
the Master on the spot; but Harris assured them that
would be a crime without profit, since the secret of the
treasure must die along with him that buried it. Others
were for desisting at once from the whole enterprise and
making for New York; but the appetising name of treas-
ure, and the thought of the long way they had already
travelled dissuaded the majority. I imagine they were
dull fellows for the most part. Harris, indeed, had some
acquirements, Mountain was no fool, Hastie was an edu-
cated man ; but even these had manifestly failed in life,
and the rest were the dregs of colonial rascality. The
conclusion they reached, at least, was more the offspring
of greed and hope, than reason. It was to temporise,
to be wary and watch the Master, to be silent and sup-
ply no further aliment to his suspicions, and to depend
entirely (as well as I make out) on the chance that
their victim was as greedy, hopeful, and irrational as
themselves, and might, after all, betray his life and
treasure.

Twice, in the course of the next day, Secundra and
the Master must have appeared to themselves to have
escaped ; and twice they were circumvented. The Mas-
ter, save that the second time he grew a little pale, dis-
played no sign of disappointment, apologised for the
stupidity with which he had fallen aside, thanked his
recapturers as for a service, and rejoined the caravan
with all his usual gallantry and cheerfulness of mien

260

THE JOURNEY IN THE WILDERNESS

and bearing. But it is certain he had smelled a rat ; for
from thenceforth he and Secundra spoke only in each
other's ear, and Harris listened and shivered by the tent
in vain. The same night it was announced they were
to leave the boats and proceed by foot : a circumstance
which (as it put an end to the confusion of the portages)
greatly lessened the chances of escape.

And now there began between the two sides a silent
contest, for life on the one hand, for riches on the other.
They were now near that quarter of the desert in which
the Master himself must begin to play the part of guide;
and using this for a pretext of prosecution, Harris and
his men sat with him every night about the fire, and
laboured to entrap him into some admission. If he let
slip his secret, he knew well it was the warrant for his
death; on the other hand, he durst not refuse their
questions, and must appear to help them to the best of
his capacity, or he practically published his mistrust.
And yet Mountain assures me the man's brow was never
ruffled. He sat in the midst of these jackals, his life
depending by a thread, like some easy, witty householder
at home by his own fire ; an answer he had for every-
thing— as often as not, a jesting answer; avoided threats,
evaded insults; talked, laughed, and listened with an
open countenance; and, in short, conducted himself in
such a manner as must have disarmed suspicion, and
went near to stagger knowledge. Indeed Mountain
confessed to me they would soon have disbelieved the
captain's story, and supposed their designated victim still
quite innocent of their designs ; but for the fact that he
continued (however ingeniously) to give the slip to ques-
tions, and the yet stronger confirmation of his repeated

261

THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

efforts to escape. The last of these, which brought things
to a head, I am now to relate. And first I should say
that by this time the temper of Harris's companions was
utterly worn out; civility was scarce pretended; and for
one very significant circumstance, the Master and Se-
cundra had been (on some pretext) deprived of wea-
pons. On their side, however, the threatened pair kept
up the parade of friendship handsomely ; Secundra was
all bows, the Master all smiles ; and on the last night of
the truce he had even gone so far as to sing for the diver-
sion of the company. It was observed that he had also
eaten with unusual heartiness, and drank deep : doubt-
less from design.

At least, about three in the morning, he came out of
the tent into the open air, audibly mourning and com-
plaining, with all the manner of a sufferer from surfeit.
For some while, Secundra publicly attended on his
patron, who at last became more easy, and fell asleep
on the frosty ground behind the tent: the Indian return-
ing within. Some time after, the sentry was changed ;
had the Master pointed out to him, where he lay in
what is called a robe of buffalo ; and thenceforth kept
an eye upon him (he declared) without remission. With
the first of the dawn, a draught of wind came suddenly
and blew open one side the corner of the robe; and with
the same puff, the Master's hat whirled in the air and
fell some yards away. The sentry, thinking it remark-
able the sleeper should not awaken, thereupon drew
near ; and the next moment, with a great shout, informed
the camp their prisoner was escaped. He had left be-
hind his Indian, who (in the first vivacity of the sur-
prise) came near to pay the forfeit of his life, and was,

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THE JOURNEY IN THE WILDERNESS

in fact, inhumanly mishandled; but Secundra, in the
midst of threats and cruelties, stuck to it with extraor-
dinary loyalty, that he was quite ignorant of his master's
plans, which might indeed be true, and of the manner
of his escape, which was demonstrably false. Nothing
was therefore left to the conspirators but to rely entirely
on the skill of Mountain. The night had been frosty,
the ground quite hard ; and the sun was no sooner up
than a strong thaw set in. It was Mountain's boast
that few men could have followed that trail, and still
fewer (even of the native Indians) found it. The Mas-
ter had thus a long start before his pursuers had the
scent, and he must have travelled with surprising energy
for a pedestrian so unused, since it was near noon be-
fore Mountain had a view of him. At this conjuncture
the trader was alone, all his companions following at
his own request, several hundred yards in the rear; he
knew the Master was unarmed ; his heart was besides
heated with the exercise and lust of hunting; and seeing
the quarry so close, so defenceless, and seemingly so
fatigued, he vain-gloriously determined to effect the
capture with his single hand. A step or two further
brought him to one margin of a little clearing ; on the
other, with his arms folded and his back to a huge stone,
the Master sat. It is possible Mountain may have made
a rustle, it is certain, at least, the Master raised his head
and gazed directly at that quarter of the thicket where
his hunter lay. "I could not be sure he saw me,"
Mountain said; "he just looked my way like a man
with his mind made up, and all the courage ran out of
me like rum out of a bottle." And presently, when the
Master looked away again, and appeared to resume

263

THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

those meditations in which he had sat immersed before
the trader's coming, Mountain slunk stealthily back and
returned to seek the help of his companions.

And now began the chapter of surprises, for the scout
had scarce informed the others of his discovery, and they
were yet preparing their weapons for a rush upon the
fugitive, when the man himself appeared in their midst,
walking openly and quietly, with his hands behind his
back.

" Ah, men! " says he, on his beholding them. " Here
is a fortunate encounter. Let us get back to camp."

Mountain had not mentioned his own weakness or
the Master's disconcerting gaze upon the thicket, so
that (with all the rest) his return appeared spontaneous.
For all that, a hubbub arose ; oaths flew, fists were
shaken, and guns pointed.

" Let us get back to camp," said the Master. " I have
an explanation to make, but it must be laid before you
all. And in the meanwhile I would put up these wea-
pons, one of which might very easily go off and blow
away your hopes of treasure. I would not kill," says
he, smiling, "the goose with the golden eggs."

The charm of his superiority once more triumphed;
and the party, in no particular order, set off on their re-
turn. By the way, he found occasion to get a word or
two apart with Mountain.

"You are a clever fellow and a bold," says he, "but
I am not so sure that you are doing yourself justice. I
would have you to consider whether you would not do
better, ay, and safer, to serve me instead of serving so
commonplace a rascal as Mr. Harris. Consider of it,"
he concluded, dealing the man a gentle tap upon the

264

THE JOURNEY IN THE WILDERNESS

shoulder, "and don't be in haste. Dead or alive, you
will find me an ill man to quarrel with."

When they were come back to the camp, where
Harris and Pinkerton stood guard over Secundra, these
two ran upon the Master like viragoes, and were amazed
out of measure when they were bidden by their com-
rades to "stand back and hear what the gentleman had
to say." The Master had not flinched before their on-
slaught ; nor, at this proof of the ground he had gained,
did he betray the least sufficiency.

"Do not let us be in haste," says he. "Meat first
and public speaking after."

With that they made a hasty meal : and as soon as it
was done, the Master, leaning on one elbow, began his
speech. He spoke long, addressing himself to each
except Harris, finding for each (with the same excep-
tion) some particular flattery. He called them "bold,
honest blades," declared he had never seen a more jovial
company, work better done, or pains more merrily sup-
ported. " Well, then," says he, "some one asks me,
Why the devil I ran away? But that is scarce worth
answer, for I think you all know pretty well. But you
know only pretty well : that is a point I shall arrive at
presently, and be you ready to remark it when it comes.
There is a traitor here: a double traitor: I will give
you his name before I am done; and let that suffice for
now. But here comes some other gentleman and asks
me, Why in the devil I came back? Well, before I
answer that question, I have one to put to you. It was
this cur here, this Harris, that speaks Hindustani ? "
cries he, rising on one knee, and pointing fair at the
man's face, with a gesture indescribably menacing ; and

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THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

when he had been answered in the affirmative, " Ah! "
says he, "then are all my suspicions verified, and I did
rightly to come back. Now, men, hear the truth for
the first time. Thereupon he launched forth in a
long story, told with extraordinary skill, how he had all
along suspected Harris, how he had found the confirma-
tion of his fears, and how Harris must have misrepre-
sented what passed between Secundra and himself. At
this point he made a bold stroke with excellent effect.
"I suppose," says he, "you think you are going shares
with Harris, I suppose you think you will see to that
yourselves; you would naturally not think so flat a
rogue could cozen you. But have a care ! These half
idiots have a sort of cunning, as the skunk has its
stench ; and it may be news to you that Harris has taken
care of himself already. Yes, for him the treasure is
all money in the bargain. You must find it or go starve.
But he has been paid beforehand ; my brother paid him
to destroy me; look at him, if you doubt — look at him,
grinning and gulping, a detected thief ! " Thence, hav-
ing made this happy impression, he explained how he
had escaped, and thought better of it, and at last con-
cluded to come back, lay the truth before the company,
and take his chance with them once more: persuaded
as he was, they would instantly depose Harris and
elect some other leader. "There is the whole truth,"
said he: "and with one exception, I put myself en-
tirely in your hands. What is the exception ? There
he sits," he cried, pointing once more to Harris;
"a man that has to die! Weapons and conditions
are all one to me; put me face to face with him, and
if you give me nothing but a stick, in five minutes I

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THE JOURNEY IN THE WILDERNESS

will show you a sop of broken carrion, fit for dogs to
roll in."

It was dark night when he made an end ; they had
listened in almost perfect silence ; but the firelight scarce
permitted any one to judge, from the look of his neigh-
bours, with what result of persuasion or conviction.
Indeed, the Master had set himself in the brightest place,
and kept his face there, to be the centre of men's eyes :
doubtless on a profound calculation. Silence followed
for awhile, and presently the whole party became in-
volved in disputation: the Master lying on his back,
with his hands knit under his head and one knee flung
across the other, like a person unconcerned in the re-
sult. And here, I daresay, his bravado carried him too
far and prejudiced his case. At least, after a cast or two
back and forward, opinion settled finally against him.
It's possible he hoped to repeat the business of the pirate
ship, and be himself, perhaps, on hard enough condi-
tions, elected leader; and things went so far that way,
that Mountain actually threw out the proposition. But
the rock he split upon was Hastie. This fellow was
not well liked, being sour and slow, with an ugly,
glowering disposition, but he had studied some time
for the church at Edinburgh College, before ill conduct
had destroyed his prospects, and he now remembered
and applied what he had learned. Indeed he had not
proceeded very far, when the Master rolled carelessly
upon one side, which was done (in Mountain's opinion)
to conceal the beginnings of despair upon his counte-
nance. Hastie dismissed the most of what they had
heard as nothing to the matter; what they wanted was
the treasure. All that was said of Harris might be true,

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THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

and they would have to see to that in time. But what
had that to do with the treasure ? They had heard a
vast of words; but the truth was just this, that Mr.
Durie was damnably frightened and had several times
run off. Here he was — whether caught or come back
was all one to Hastie: the point was to make an end
of the business. As for the talk of deposing and elect-
ing captains, he hoped they were all free men and could
attend their own affairs. That was dust flung in their
eyes, and so was the proposal to fight Harris. "He
shall fight no one in this camp, I can tell him that,"
said Hastie. "We had trouble enough to get his arms
away from him, and we should look pretty fools to give
them back again. But if it's excitement the gentleman
is after, I can supply him with more than perhaps he
cares about. For I have no intention to spend the re-
mainder of my life in these mountains; already I have
been too long; and I propose that he should imme-
diately tell us where that treasure is, or else imme-
diately be shot. And there," says he, producing his
weapon, "there is the pistol that I mean to use."

"Come, I call you a man," cries the Master, sitting
up and looking at the speaker with an air of admiration.

"I didn't ask you to call me anything," returned
Hastie; "which is it to be?"

"That's an idle question," said the Master. " Needs
must when the devil drives. The truth is, we are with-
in easy walk of the place, and I will show it you to-
morrow."

With that, as if all were quite settled, and settled ex-
actly to his mind, he walked off to his tent, whither
Secundra had preceded him.

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I cannot think of these last turns and wriggles of my
old enemy except with admiration ; scarce even pity is
mingled with the sentiment, so strongly the man sup-
ported, so boldly resisted his misfortunes. Even at that
hour, when he perceived himself quite lost, when he saw
he had but effected an exchange of enemies, and over-
thrown Harris to set Hastie up, no sign of weakness
appeared in his behaviour, and he withdrew to his tent,
already determined (I must suppose) upon affronting the
incredible hazard of his last expedient, with the same
easy, assured, genteel expression and demeanour as he
might have left a theatre withal to join a supper of the
wits. But doubtless within, if we could see there, his
soul trembled.

Early in the night, word went about the camp that
he was sick; and the first thing the next morning he
called Hastie to his side, and inquired most anxiously if
he had any skill in medicine. As a matter of fact, this
was a vanity of that fallen divinity student's, to which
he had cunningly addressed himself. Hastie examined
him; and being flattered, ignorant, and highly suspi-
cious, knew not in the least whether the man was sick or
malingering. In this state, he went forth again to his
companions; and (as the thing which would give him-
self most consequence either way) announced that the
patient was in a fair way to die.

"For all that," he added with an oath, "and if he
bursts by the wayside, he must bring us this morning
to the treasure."

But there were several in the camp (Mountain among
the number) whom this brutality revolted. They would
have seen the Master pistol'd, or pistol'd him themselves,

269

THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

without the smallest sentiment of pity ; but they seem to
have been touched by his gallant fight and unequivocal
defeat the night before; perhaps, too, they were even
already beginning to oppose themselves to their new
leader : at least, they now declared that (if the man was
sick) he should have a day's rest in spite of Hastie's
teeth.

The next morning he was manifestly worse, and
Hastie himself began to display something of humane
concern, so easily does even the pretence of doctoring
awaken sympathy. The third, the Master called Moun-
tain and Hastie to the tent, announced himself to be
dying, gave them full particulars as to the position of
the cache, and begged them to set out incontinently on
the quest, so that they might see if he deceived them,
and; (if they were at first unsuccessful), he should be
able to correct their error.

But here arose a difficulty on which he doubtless
counted. None of these men would trust another, none
would consent to stay behind. On the other hand, al-
though the Master seemed extremely low, spoke scarce
above a whisper, and lay much of the time insensible,
it was still possible it was a fraudulent sickness ; and if
all went treasure-hunting, it might prove they had gone
upon a wild-goose chase, and return to find their pris-
oner flown. They concluded, therefore, to hang idling
round the camp, alleging sympathy to their reason; and
certainly, so mingled are our dispositions, several were
sincerely (if not very deeply) affected by the natural
peril of the man whom they callously designed to mur-
der. In the afternoon, Hastie was called to the bedside
to pray : the which (incredible as it must appear) he did

270

THE JOURNEY IN THE WILDERNESS

with unction ; about eight at night, the wailing of Se-
cundra announced that all was over; and before ten,
the Indian, with a link stuck in the ground, was toiling
at the grave. Sunrise of next day beheld the Master's
burial, all hands attending with great decency of de-
meanour; and the body was laid in the earth wrapped
in a fur robe, with only the face uncovered ; which last
was of a waxy whiteness, and had the nostrils plugged
according to some oriental habit of Secundra's. No
sooner was the grave filled than the lamentations of the
Indian once more struck concern to every heart; and it
appears this gang of murderers, so far from resenting his
outcries, although both distressful and (in such a coun-
try) perilous to their own safety, roughly but kindly en-
deavoured to console him.

But if human nature is even in the worst of men oc-
casionally kind, it is still, and before all things, greedy ;
and they soon turned from the mourner to their own
concerns. The cache of the treasure being hard by, al-
though yet unidentified, it was concluded not to break
camp ; and the day passed, on the part of the voyagers,
in unavailing exploration of the woods, Secundra the
while lying on his master's grave. That night they
placed no sentinel, but lay all together about the fire, in
the customary woodman fashion, the heads outward,
like the spokes of a wheel. Morning found them in
the same disposition ; only Pinkerton, who lay on Moun-
tain's right, between him and Hastie, had (in the hours
of darkness) been secretly butchered, and there lay, still
wrapped as to his body in his mantle, but offering above
that ungodly and horrific spectacle of the scalped head.
The gang were that morning as pale as a company of

271

THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

phantoms, for the pertinacity of Indian war (or, to speak
more correctly, Indian murder) was well known to all.
But they laid the chief blame on their unsentinel'd pos-
ture; and fired with the neighbourhood of the treasure,
determined to continue where they were. Pinkerton
was buried hard by the Master; the survivors again
passed the day in exploration, and returned in a mingled
humour of anxiety and hope, being partly certain they
were now close on the discovery of what they sought,
and on the other hand (with the return of darkness)
were infected with the fear of Indians. Mountain was
the first sentry; he declares he neither slept nor, yet sat
down, but kept his watch with a perpetual and strain-
ing vigilance, and it was even with unconcern that
(when he saw by the stars his time was up) he drew
near the fire to waken his successor. This man (it was
Hicks the shoemaker) slept on the lee side of the circle,
something farther off in consequence than those to wind-
ward, and in a place darkened by the blowing smoke.
Mountain stooped and took him by the shoulder; his
hand was at once smeared by some adhesive wetness ;
and (the wind at the moment veering) the firelight
shone upon the sleeper and showed him, like Pinker-
ton, dead and scalped.

It was clear they had fallen in the hands of one of
those matchless Indian bravos, that will sometimes
follow a party for days, and in spite of indefatigable
travel and unsleeping watch, continue to keep up with
their advance and steal a scalp at every resting-place.
Upon this discovery, the treasure-seekers, already re-
duced to a poor half dozen, fell into mere dismay, seized
a few necessaries, and deserting the remainder of their

272

THE JOURNEY IN THE WILDERNESS

goods, fled outright into the forest. Their fire, they left
still burning, and their dead comrade unburied. All day
they ceased not to flee, eating by the way, from hand to
mouth; and since they feared to sleep, continued to ad-
vance at random even in the hours of darkness. But
the limit of man's endurance is soon reached; when
they rested at last, it was to sleep profoundly; and
when they woke, it was to find that the enemy was still
upon their heels, and death and mutilation had once
more lessened and deformed their company.

By this, they had become light-headed, they had quite
missed their path in the Wilderness, their stores were
already running low. With the further horrors, it is
superfluous that I should swell this narrative, already
too prolonged. Suffice it to say, that when at length a
night passed by innocuous, and they might breathe
again in the hope that the murderer had at last desisted
from pursuit, Mountain and Secundra were alone. The
trader is firmly persuaded their unseen enemy was some
warrior of his own acquaintance, and that he himself
was spared by favour. The mercy extended to Secundra
he explains on the ground that the East Indian was
thought to be insane ; partly from the fact that, through
all the horrors of the flight and while others were cast-
ing away their very food and weapons, Secundra con-
tinued to stagger forward with a mattock on his shoul-
der; and partly because, in the last days and with a
great degree of heat and fluency, he perpetually spoke
with himself in his own language. But he was sane
enough when it came to English.

"You think he will be gone quite away ?" he asked,
upon their blest awakening in safety.

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THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

"I pray God so, I believe so, I dare to believe so,"
Mountain had replied almost with incoherence, as he
described the scene to me.

And indeed he was so much distempered that until he
met us, the next morning, he could scarce be certain
whether he had dreamed, or whether it was a fact, that
Secundra had thereupon turned directly about and re-
turned without a word upon their footprints, setting his
face for these wintry and hungry solitudes, along a path
whose every stage was mile-stoned with a mutilated
corpse.

THE JOURNEY IN THE WILDERNESS

Concluded

MOUNTAIN'S story, as it was laid before Sir William
Johnson and my lord, was shorn, of course, of all the
earlier particulars, and the expedition described to have
proceeded uneventfully, until the Master sickened. But
the latter part was very forcibly related, the speaker vis-
ibly thrilling to his recollections ; and our then situation,
on the fringe of the same desert, and the private inter-
ests of each, gave him an audience prepared to share
in his emotions. For Mountain's intelligence not only
changed the world for my Lord Durrisdeer, but mate-
rially affected the designs of Sir William Johnson.

These I find I must lay more at length before the reader.
Word had reached Albany of dubious import; it had been
rumoured some hostility was to be put in act ; and the In-
dian diplomatist had, thereupon, sped into the wilder-
ness, even at the approach of winter, to nip that mischief
in the bud. Here, on the borders, he learned that he
was come too late; and a difficult choice was thus pre-
274

THE JOURNEY IN THE WILDERNESS

sented to a man (upon the whole) not any more bold
than prudent. His standing with the painted braves
may be compared to that of my Lord President Culloden
among the chiefs of our own Highlanders at the 'forty-
five; that is as much as to say, he was, to these men,
reason's only speaking trumpet, and counsels of peace
and moderation, if they were to prevail at all, must pre-
vail singly through his influence. If, then, he should
return, the province must lie open to all the abominable
tragedies of Indian war — the houses blaze, the wayfarer
be cut off, and the men of the woods collect their usual
disgusting spoil of human scalps. On the other side, to
go further forth, to risk so small a party deeper in the
desert, to carry words of peace among warlike savages
already rejoicing to return to war: here was an extrem-
ity from which it was easy to perceive his mind revolted.

" I have come too late," he said more than once, and
would fall into a deep consideration, his head bowed
in his hands, his foot patting the ground.

At length he raised his face and looked upon us, that
is to say, upon my lord, Mountain, and myself, sitting
close round a small fire, which had been made for pri-
vacy in one corner of the camp.

"My lord, to be quite frank with you, I find myself
in two minds," said he. "I think it very needful I
should go on, but not at all proper I should any longer
enjoy the pleasure of your company. We are here still
upon the water side ; and I think the risk to southward
no great matter. Will not yourself and Mr. Mackellar
take a single boat's crew and return to Albany ?"

My lord, I should say, had listened to Mountain's
narrative regarding him throughout with a painful in-

275

THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

tensity of gaze; and since the tale concluded, had sat
as in a dream. There was something very daunting in
his look ; something to my eyes not rightly human ; the
face, lean, and dark, and aged, the mouth painful, the
teeth disclosed in a perpetual rictus; the eyeball swim-
ming clear of the lids upon a field of blood-shot white.
I could not behold him myself without a jarring irrita-
tion, such as (I believe) is too frequently the uppermost
feeling on the sickness of those dear to us. Others, I
could not but remark, were scarce able to support his
neighbourhood — Sir William eviting to be near him,
Mountain dodging his eye, and, when he met it, blench-
ing and halting in his story. At this appeal, however, my
lord appeared to recover his command upon himself.

''To Albany ?" said he, with a good voice.

"Not short of it, at least," replied Sir William.
"There is no safety nearer hand."

"I would be very sweir* to return," says my lord.
"I am not afraid — of Indians," he added, with a jerk.

"I wish that I could say so much," returned Sir
William, smiling; "although, if any man durst say it,
it should be myself. But you are to keep in view my
responsibility, and that as the voyage has now become
highly dangerous, and your business — if you ever had
any," says he, "brought quite to a conclusion by the
distressing family intelligence you have received, I
should be hardly justified if I even suffered you to pro-
ceed, and run the risk of some obloquy if anything re-
grettable should follow."

My lord turned to Mountain. " What did he pretend
he died of?" he asked.

* Unwilling.
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THE JOURNEY IN THE WILDERNESS

"I don't think I understand your honour, "said the
trader, pausing like a man very much affected, in the
dressing of some cruel frost-bites.

For a moment my lord seemed at a full stop; and
then, with some irritation, " I ask you what he died of.
Surely that's a plain question," said he.

"Oh, I don't know," said Mountain. " Hastie even
never knew. He seemed to sicken natural, and just pass
away."

"There it is, you see!" concluded my lord, turning
to Sir William.

"Your lordship is too deep for me," replied Sir Wil-
liam.

"Why," says my lord, "this is a matter of succes-
sion ; my son's title may be called in doubt; and the man
being supposed to be dead of nobody can tell what, a
great deal of suspicion would be naturally roused."

"But, God" damn me, the man's buried!" cried Sir
William.

"I will never believe that," returned my lord, pain-
fully trembling. " I'll never believe it! " he cried again,
and jumped to his feet. "Did he look dead ? " he asked
of Mountain.

"Look dead?" repeated the trader. "He looked
white. Why, what would he be at ? I tell you, I put
the sods upon him."

My lord caught Sir William by the coat with a hooked
hand. "This man has the name of my brother," says
he, " but it's well understood that he was never canny."

" Canny ? " says Sir William. "What is that ? "

' ' He's not of this world, " whispered my lord, ' ' neither
him nor the black deil that serves him. I have struck

277

THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

my sword throughout his vitals," he cried, " I have felt
the hilt dirl * on his breastbone, and the hot blood spirt
in my very face, time and again, time and again ! " he
repeated, with a gesture indescribable. "But he was
never dead for that, "said he, and I sighed aloud. "Why
should I think he was dead now ? No, not till I see him
rotting, " says he.

Sir William looked across at me, with a long face.
Mountain forgot his wounds, staring and gaping.

"My lord," said I, "I wish you would collect your
spirits." But my throat was so dry, and my own wits
so scattered, I could add no more.

"No," says my lord, " it's not to be supposed that he
would understand me. Mackellar does, for he kens all,
and has seen him buried before now. This is a very
good servant to me, Sir William, this man Mackellar;
he buried him with his own hands — he and my father
— by the light of two siller candlesticks. The other
man is a familiar spirit; he brought him from Coro-
mandel. I would have told ye this long syne, Sir Wil-
liam, only it was in the family." These last remarks he
made with a kind of a melancholy composure, and his
time of aberration seemed to pass away. " You can ask
yourself what it all means," he proceeded. "My bro-
ther falls sick, and dies, and is buried, as so they say;
and all seems very plain. But why did the familiar go
back ? I think ye must see for yourself it's a point that
wants some clearing."

" I will be at your service, my lord, in half a minute,"
said Sir William, rising. " Mr. Mackellar, two words
with you," and he led me without the camp, the frost

•Ring.
278

THE JOURNEY IN THE WILDERNESS

crunching in our steps, the trees standing at our elbow
hoar with frost, even as on that night in the Long Shrub-
bery. " Of course, this is midsummer madness ? " said
Sir William, so soon as we were gotten out of hearing.

"Why, certainly," said I. "The man is mad. I
think that manifest"

"Shall I seize and bind him?" asked Sir William.
" I will upon your authority. If these are all ravings,
that should certainly be done."

I looked down upon the ground, back at the camp
with its bright fires and the folk watching us, and about
me on the woods and mountains; there was just the
one way that I could not look, and that was in Sir
William's face.

"Sir William," said I at last, "I think my lord not
sane, and have long thought him so. But there are
degrees in madness ; and whether he should be brought
under restraint — Sir William, I am no fit judge," I con-
cluded.

" I will be the judge," said he. "I ask for facts.
Was there, in all that jargon, any word of truth or
sanity? Do you hesitate?" he asked. "Am I to un-
derstand you have buried this gentleman before ? "

"Not buried," said I; and then, taking up courage
at last, "Sir William," said I, "unless I were to tell
you a long story, which much concerns a noble family
(and myself not in the least), it would be impossible to
make this matter clear to you. Say the word, and I will
do it, right or wrong. And, at any rate, I will say so
much, that my lord is not so crazy as he seems. This
is a strange matter, into the tail of which you are un-
happily drifted."

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THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

"I desire none of your secrets," replied Sir William;
"but I will be plain at the risk of incivility, and con-
fess that I take little pleasure in my present company."

"I would be the last to blame you," said I, "for
that."

"I have not asked either for your censure or your
praise, sir," returned Sir William. "I desire simply to
be quit of you; and to that effect, I put a boat and
complement of men at your disposal."

' ' This is fairly offered, " said I, after reflection. ' ' But
you must suffer me to say a word upon the other side.
We have a natural curiosity to learn the truth of this
affair; I have some of it myself; my lord (it is very
plain) has but too much. The matter of the Indian's
return is enigmatical."

" I think so myself," Sir William interrupted, " and I
propose (since I go in that direction) to probe it to the
bottom. Whether or not the man has gone like a dog
to die upon his master's grave, his life, at least, is in
great danger, and I propose, if I can, to save it. There
is nothing against his character ? "

"Nothing, Sir William," I replied.

" And the other ?" he said. " I have heard my lord,
of course ; but, from the circumstances of his servant's
loyalty, I must suppose he had some noble qualities."

" You must not ask me that ! " I cried. " Hell may
have noble flames. I have known him a score of years,
and always hated, and always admired, and always sla-
vishly feared him."

"I appear to intrude again upon your secrets," said
Sir William, "believe me, inadvertently. Enough that
! will see the grave, and (if possible) rescue the Indian.

280

THE JOURNEY IN THE WILDERNESS

Upon these terms, can you persuade your master to re-
turn to Albany ? "

"Sir William," said I, "I will tell you how it is.
You do not see my lord to advantage ; it will seem even
strange to you that I should love him ; but I do, and I
am not alone. If he goes back to Albany, it must be by
force, and it will be the death-warrant of his reason, and
perhaps his life. That is my sincere belief; but I am in
your hands, and ready to obey, if you will assume so
much responsibility as to command."

" I will have no shred of responsibility; it is my single
endeavour to avoid the same, " cried Sir William. ' ' You
insist upon following this journey up ; and be it so ! I
wash my hands of the whole matter."

With which word, he turned upon his heel and gave
the order to break camp; and my lord, who had been
hovering near by, came instantly to my side.

" Which is it to be ? " said he.

"You are to have your way," I answered. "You
shall see the grave."

The situation of the Master's grave was, between
guides, easily described; it lay, indeed, beside a chief
landmark of the Wilderness, a certain range of peaks,
conspicuous by their design and altitude, and the source
of many brawling tributaries to that inland sea, Lake
Champlain. It was therefore possible to strike for it
direct, instead of following back the blood-stained trail
of the fugitives, and to cover, in some sixteen hours of
march, a distance which their perturbed wanderings
had extended over more than sixty. Our boats we left
under a guard upon the river; it was, indeed, probable

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THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

we should return to find them frozen fast; and the
small equipment with which we set forth upon the ex-
pedition, included not only an infinity of furs to protect
us from the cold, but an arsenal of snow-shoes to render
travel possible, when the inevitable snow should fall.
Considerable alarm was manifested at our departure;
the march was conducted with soldierly precaution, the
camp at night sedulously chosen and patrolled; and it
was a consideration of this sort that arrested us, the
second day, within not many hundred yards of our
destination — the night being already imminent, the spot
in which we stood well qualified to be a strong camp
for a party of our numbers ; and Sir William, therefore,
on a sudden thought, arresting our advance.

Before us was the high range of mountains toward
which we had been all day deviously drawing near.
From the first light of the dawn, their silver peaks had
been the goal of our advance across a tumbled lowland
forest, thrid with rough streams, and strewn with mon-
strous boulders ; the peaks (as I say) silver, for already
at the higher altitudes the snow fell nightly; but the
woods and the low ground only breathed upon with
frost. All day heaven had been charged with ugly
vapours, in the which the sun swam and glimmered like
a shilling piece ; all day the wind blew on our left cheek,
barbarous cold, but very pure to breathe. With the end
of the afternoon, however, the wind fell ; the clouds,
being no longer reinforced, were scattered or drunk up ;
the sun set behind us with some wintry splendour, and
the white brow of the mountains shared its dying glow.

It was dark ere we had supper; we ate in silence, and
the meal was scarce despatched before my lord slunk

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from the fireside to the margin of the camp ; whither I
made haste to follow him. The camp was on high
ground, overlooking a frozen lake, perhaps a mile in its
longest measurement; all about us, the forest lay in
heights and hollows ; above rose the white mountains ;
and higher yet, the moon rode in a fair sky. There was
no breath of air; nowhere a twig creaked; and the
sounds of our own camp were hushed and swallowed
up in the surrounding stillness. Now that the sun and
the wind were both gone down, it appeared almost
warm, like a night of July : a singular illusion of the
sense, when earth, air, and water were strained to
bursting with the extremity of frost.

My lord (or what I still continued to call by his loved
name) stood with his elbow in one hand, and his chin
sunk in the other, gazing before him on the surface of
the wood. My eyes followed his, and rested almost
pleasantly upon the frosted contexture of the pines,
rising in moonlit hillocks, or sinking in the shadow of
small glens. Hard by, I told myself, was the grave of
our enemy, now gone where the wicked cease from
troubling, the earth heaped forever on his once so active
limbs. I could not but think of him as somehow for-
tunate, to be thus done with man's anxiety and weari-
ness, the daily expense of spirit, and that daily river of
circumstance to be swum through, at any hazard, under
the penalty of shame or death. I could not but think
how good was the end of that long travel; and with
that, my mind swung at a tangent to my lord. For
was not my lord dead also ? a maimed soldier, looking
vainly for discharge, lingering derided in the line of
battle ? A kind man, I remembered him ; wise, with a

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THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

decent pride, a son perhaps too dutiful, a husband only
too loving, one that could suffer and be silent, one whose
hand I loved to press. Of a sudden, pity caught in my
windpipe with a sob; I could have wept aloud to re-
member and behold him; and standing thus by his
elbow, under the broad moon, I prayed fervently either
that he should be released, or I strengthened to persist
in my affection.

"O God," said I, "this was the best man to me and
to himself, and now I shrink from him. He did no
wrong, or not till he was broke with sorrows ; these are
but his honourable wounds that we begin to shrink
from. O cover them up, O take him away, before we
hate him ! "

I was still so engaged in my own bosom, when a
sound broke suddenly upon the night. It was neither
very loud, nor very near ; yet, bursting as it did from so
profound and so prolonged a silence, it startled the
camp like an alarm of trumpets. Ere I had taken breath,
Sir William was beside me, the main part of the voy-
agers clustered at his back, intently giving ear. Me-
thought, as I glanced at them across my shoulder, there
was a whiteness, other than moonlight, on their cheeks ;
and the rays of the moon reflected with a sparkle on the
eyes of some, and the shadows lying black under the
brows of others (according as they raised or bowed the
head to listen) gave to the group a strange air of anima-
tion and anxiety. My lord was to the front, crouching
a little forth, his hand raised as for silence : a man turned
to stone. And still the sounds continued, breathlessly
renewed, with a precipitate rhythm.

Suddenly Mountain spoke in a loud, broken whisper,
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THE JOURNEY IN THE WILDERNESS

as of a man relieved. "I have it now," he said; and,
as we all turned to hear him, "the Indian must have
known the cache," he added. "That is he — he is
digging out the treasure."

"Why, to be sure!" exclaimed Sir William. "We
were geese not to have supposed so much."

"The only thing is," Mountain resumed, "the sound
is very close to our old camp. And, again, I do not see'
how he is there before us, unless the man had wings ! "

"Greed and fear are wings," remarked Sir William.
" But this rogue has given us an alert, and I have a no-
tion to return the compliment. What say you, gentle-
men, shall we have a moonlight hunt?"

It was so agreed ; dispositions were made to surround
Secundra at his task; some of Sir William's Indians
hastened in advance; and a strong guard being left at
our headquarters, we set forth along the uneven bottom
of the forest; frost crackling, ice sometimes loudly split-
ting under foot; and overhead the blackness of pine-
woods, and the broken brightness of the moon. Our
way led down into a hollow of the land ; and as we
descended, the sounds diminished and had almost died
away. Upon the other slope it was more open, only
dotted with a few pines, and several vast and scattered
rocks, that made inky shadows in the moonlight. Here
the sounds began to reach us more distinctly ; we could
now perceive the ring of iron, and more exactly estimate
the furious degree of haste with which the digger plied
his instrument. As we neared the top of the ascent, a
bird or two winged aloft and hovered darkly in the moon-
light ; and the next moment, we were gazing through a
fringe of trees upon a singular picture.

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THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

A narrow plateau, overlooked by the white mountains,
and encompassed nearer hand by woods, lay bare to the
strong radiance of the moon. Rough goods, such as
make the wealth of foresters, were sprinkled here and
there upon the ground in meaningless disarray. About
the midst a tent stood, silvered with frost; the door
open, gaping on the black interior. At the one end of
this small stage, lay what seemed the tattered remnants
of a man. Without doubt we had arrived upon the
scene of Harris's encampment; there were the goods
scattered in the panic of flight ; it was in yon tent the
Master breathed his last; and the frozen carrion that lay
before us was the body of the drunken shoemaker. It
was always moving to come upon the theatre of any
tragic incident ; to come upon it after so many days, and
to find it (in the seclusion of a desert) still unchanged,
must have impressed the mind of the most careless. And
yet it was not that which struck us into pillars of stone ;
but the sight (which yet we had been half expecting)
of Secundra, ankle deep in the grave of his late master.
He had cast the main part of his raiment by, yet his frail
arms and shoulders glistered in the moonlight with a
copious sweat; his face was contracted with anxiety
and expectation ; his blows resounded on the grave, as
thick as sobs ; and behind him, strangely deformed and
ink-black upon the frosty ground, the creature's shadow
repeated and parodied his swift gesticulations. Some
night birds arose from the boughs upon our coming,
and then settled back; but Secundra, absorbed in his
toil, heard or heeded not at all.

I heard Mountain whisper to Sir William: "Good
God, it's the gravel He's digging him up!" It was

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THE JOURNEY IN THE WILDERNESS

what we had all guessed, and yet to hear it put in lan-
guage thrilled me. Sir William violently started.

' ' You damned sacrilegious hound 1 " he cried. ' ' What's
this?"

Secundra leaped in the air, a little breathless cry es-
caped him, the tool flew from his grasp, and he stood
one instant staring at the speaker. The next, swift as
an arrow, he sped for the woods upon the farther side ;
and the next again, throwing up his hands with a vio-
lent gesture of resolution, he had begun already to re-
trace his steps.

"Well, then, you come, you help " he was say-
ing. But by now my lord had stepped beside Sir Wil-
liam ; the moon shone fair upon his face, and the words
were still upon Secundra's lips, when he beheld and rec-
ognised his master's enemy. "Him!" he screamed,
clasping his hands and shrinking on himself.

" Come, come," said Sir William, " there is none here
to do you harm, if you be innocent ; and if you be guilty,
your escape is quite cut off. Speak, what do you here
among the graves of the dead and the remains of the
unburied ? "

' ' You no murderer ? " inquired Secundra. ' ' You true
man ? You see me safe ? "

" I will see you safe if you be innocent," returned Sit
William. "I have said the thing, and I see not where-
fore you should doubt it."

" There all murderers," cried Secundra, "that is why!
He kill — murderer," pointing to Mountain ; "there two
hire-murderers," — pointing to my lord and myself —
"all gallows-murderers! Ah, I see you all swing in a
rope. Now I go save the sahib ; he see you swing in a

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THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

rope. The sahib," he continued, pointing to the grave,
" he not dead. He bury, he not dead."

My lord uttered a little noise, moved nearer to the
grave, and stood and stared in it.

''Buried and not dead?" exclaimed Sir William.
"What kind of rant is this?"

"See, sahib!" said Secundra. "The sahib and I
alone with murderers; try all way to escape, no way
good. Then try this way : good way in warm climate,
good way in India; here in this dam cold place, who
can tell ? I tell you pretty good hurry : you help, you
light a fire, help rub."

"What is the creature talking of?" cried Sir Wil-
liam. "My head goes round."

' ' I tell you I bury him alive, " said Secundra. ' ' I teach
him swallow his tongue. Now dig him up pretty good
hurry, and he not much worse. You light a fire."

Sir William turned to the nearest of his men. " Light
a fire," said he. "My lot seems to be cast with the
insane."

"You good man," returned Secundra. "Now I go
dig the sahib up."

He returned as he spoke to the grave, and resumed
his former toil. My lord stood rooted, and I at my
lord's side : fearing I knew not what.

The frost was not yet very deep, and presently the
Indian threw aside his tool and began to scoop the dirt
by handfuls. Then he disengaged a corner of a buffalo
robe : and then I saw hair catch among his fingers ; yet
a moment more, and the moon shone on something
white. Awhile Secundra crouched upon his knees,
scraping with delicate fingers, breathing with puffed

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THE JOURNEY IN THE WILDERNESS

lips ; and when he moved aside I beheld the face of the
Master wholly disengaged. It was deadly white, the
eyes closed, the ears and nostrils plugged, the cheeks
fallen, the nose sharp as if in death ; but for all he had
Iain so many days under the sod, corruption had not
approached him and (what strangely affected all of us)
his lips and chin were mantled with a swarthy beard.

" My God! " cried Mountain, "he was as smooth as
a baby when we laid him there! "

"They say hair grows upon the dead," observed Sir
William, but his voice was thick and weak.

Secundra paid no heed to our remarks, digging swift
as a terrier, in the loose earth ; every moment, the form
of the Master, swathed in his buffalo robe, grew more
distinct in the bottom of that shallow trough ; the moon
shining strong, and the shadows of the standers-by, as
they drew forward and back, falling and flitting over
his emergent countenance. The sight held us with a
horror not before experienced, I dared not look my lord
in the face, but for as long as it lasted, I never observed
him to draw breath ; and a little in the background one
of the men (I know not whom) burst into a kind of
sobbing.

"Now," said Secundra, "you help me lift him out."

Of the flight of time I have no idea; it may have been
three hours, and it may have been five, that the Indian
laboured to reanimate his master's body. One thing
only I know, that it was still night, and the moon was
not yet set, although it had sunk low, and now barred
the plateau with long shadows, when Secundra uttered
a small cry of satisfaction ; and, leaning swiftly forth, I
thought I could myself perceive a change upon that icy

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THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

countenance of the unburied. The next moment I be-
held his eyelids flutter; the next they rose entirely, and
the week-old corpse looked me for a moment in the
face.

So much display of life I can myself swear to. I have
heard from others that he visibly strove to speak, that
his teeth showed in his beard, and that his brow was
contorted as with an agony of pain and effort. And
this may have been ; I know not, I was otherwise en-
gaged. For, at that first disclosure of the dead man's
eyes, my Lord Durrisdeer fell to the ground, and when
I raised him up, he was a corpse.

Day came, and still Secundra could not be persuaded
to desist from his unavailing efforts. Sir William, leav-
ing a small party under my command, proceeded on his
embassy with the first light; and still the Indian rubbed
the limbs and breathed in the mouth of the dead body.
You would think such labours might have vitalised
a stone; but, except for that one moment (which was
my lord's death), the black spirit of the Master held
aloof from its discarded clay ; and by about the hour of
noon, even the faithful servant was at length convinced.
He took it with unshaken quietude.

"Too cold," said he, "good way in India, no good
here." And, asking for some food, which he raven-
ously devoured as soon as it was set before him, he drew
near to the fire and took his place at my elbow. In the
same spot, as soon as he had eaten, he stretched him-
self out, and fell into a childlike slumber, from which I

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must arouse him, some hours afterward, to take his part
as one of the mourners at the double funeral. It was
the same throughout; he seemed to have outlived at
once and with the same effort, his grief for his master
and his terror of myself and Mountain.

One of the men left with me was skilled in stone-
cutting; and before Sir William returned to pick us up,
I had chiselled on a boulder this inscription, with a copy
of which I may fitly bring my narrative to a close :

j. D.,

HEIR TO A SCOTTISH TITLE,

A MASTER OF THE ARTS AND GRACES,

ADMIRED IN EUROPE, ASIA, AMERICA,

IN WAR AND PEACE,

IN THE TENTS OF SAVAGE HUNTERS AND THE
CITADELS OF KINGS, AFTER SO MUCH
ACQUIRED, ACCOMPLISHED, AND
ENDURED, LIES HERE FOR-
GOTTEN.

H. D.,

HIS BROTHER,
AFTER A LIFE OF UNMERITED DISTRESS,

BRAVELY SUPPORTED,

DIED ALMOST IN THE SAME HOUR,

AND SLEEPS IN THE SAME GRAVE

WITH HIS FRATERNAL ENEMY.

THE PIETY OF HIS WIFE AND ONE OLD SER-
VANT RAISED THIS STONE
TO BOTH.

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