A Daughter of Raasay: A Tale of the '45 Read online

  CHAPTER II

  A CRY IN THE NIGHT

  "Past ten o'clock, and a clear starry night!" the watch was bawling as Iset out from my rooms to keep my appointment with Lord Balmerino. I hadlittle doubt that a Stuart restoration was the cause for which he wasrecruiting, and all day I had balanced in my mind the pros and cons ofsuch an attempt. I will never deny that the exiled race held for me astrong fascination. The Stuarts may have been weak, headstrong Kings intheir prosperity, but they had the royal virtue of drawing men to them intheir misfortune. They were never so well loved, nor so worthy of it, aswhen they lived in exile at St. Germains. Besides, though I had nevermixed with politics, I was a Jacobite by inheritance. My father had foughtfor a restoration, and my uncle had died for it.

  There were no fast bound ties to hold me back. Loyalty to the Hanoverianshad no weight with me. I was a broken man, and save for my head could losenothing by the venture. The danger of the enterprise was a merit in myeyes, for I was in the mood when a man will risk his all on an impulse.

  And yet I hung back. After all an Englishman, be he never so desperate,does not fling away the scabbard without counting the cost. Young as I wasI grued at the thought of the many lives that would be cut off ere theirtime, and in my heart I distrusted the Stuarts and doubted whether thegame were worth the candle.

  I walked slowly, for I was not yet due at the lodgings of Balmerino for anhour, and as I stood hesitating at a street corner a chaise sheered pastme at a gallop. Through the coach window by the shine of the moon I caughtone fleeting glimpse of a white frightened girl-face, and over the mouthwas clapped a rough hand to stifle any cry she might give. I am no DonQuixote, but there never was a Montagu who waited for the cool secondthought to crowd out the strong impulse of the moment. I made a dash atthe step, missed my footing, and rolled over into the mud. When I got tomy feet again the coach had stopped at the far end of the street. Two menwere getting out of the carriage holding between them a slight strugglingfigure. For one instant the clear shrill cry of a woman was lifted intothe night, then it was cut short abruptly by the clutch of a hand at thethroat.

  I scudded toward them, lugging at my sword as I ran, but while I was yetfifty yards away the door of the house opened and closed behind them. Aninstant, and the door reopened to let out one of the men, who slammed itbehind him and entered the chaise. The postilion whipped up his horses anddrove off. The door yielded nothing to my hand. Evidently it was lockedand bolted. I cried out to open, and beat wildly upon the door with thehilt of my sword. Indeed, I quite lost my head, threatening, storming, andabusing. I might as well have called upon the marble busts at the Abbey tocome forth, for inside there was the silence of the dead. Presently lightsbegan to glimmer in windows along the dark street, and nightcapped headswere thrust out to learn what was ado. I called on them to join me in arescue, but I found them not at all keen for the adventure. They took mefor a drunken Mohawk or some madman escaped from custody.

  "Here come the watch to take him away," I heard one call across the streetto another.

  I began to realize that an attempt to force an entrance was futile. Itwould only end in an altercation with the approaching watch. Staidcitizens were already pointing me out to them as a cause of thedisturbance. For the moment I elected discretion and fled incontinent downthe street from the guard.

  But I was back before ten minutes were up, lurking in the shadows ofopposite doorways, examining the house from front and rear, searching forsome means of ingress to this mysterious dwelling. I do not know why thething stuck in my mind. Perhaps some appealing quality of youth in theface and voice stirred in me the instinct for the championship of damesthat is to be found in every man. At any rate I was grimly resolved not todepart without an explanation of the strange affair.

  What no skill of mine could accomplish chance did for me. While I wasinviting a crick in my neck from staring up at the row of unlightedwindows above me, a man came out of the front door and stood looking upand down the street. Presently he spied me and beckoned. I was alldishevelled and one stain of mud from head to foot.

  "D' ye want to earn a shilling, fellow?" he called.

  I grumbled that I was out of work and money. Was it likely I would refusesuch a chance? And what was it he would have me do?

  He led the way through the big, dimly-lighted hall to an up-stairs roomnear the back of the house. Two heavy boxes were lying there, packed andcorded, to be taken down-stairs. I tossed aside my cloak and stooped tohelp him. He straightened with a jerk. I had been standing in the shadowwith my soiled cloak wrapped about me, but now I stood revealed in silkenhose, satin breeches, and laced doublet. If that were not enough toproclaim my rank a rapier dangled by my side.

  "Rot me, you're a gentleman," he cried.

  I affected to carry off my shame with bluster.

  "What if I am!" I cried fiercely. "May not a gentleman be hungry, man? Iam a ruined dicer, as poor as a church mouse. Do you grudge me myshilling?"

  He shrugged his shoulders. Doubtless he had seen more than one brokengentleman cover poverty with a brave front of fine lawn and gildedsplendour of array.

  "All one to me, your Royal 'Ighness. Take 'old 'ere," he saidfacetiously.

  We carried the boxes into the hall. When we had finished I stood moppingmy face with a handkerchief, but my eyes were glued to the label tacked onone of the boxes.

  _John Armitage, The Oaks, Epsom, Surrey._

  "Wot yer waitin' for?" asked the fellow sharply.

  "The shilling," I told him.

  I left when he gave it me, and as I reached the door he bawled to be sureto shut it tight. An idea jumped to my mind on the instant, and though Islammed the door I took care to have my foot an inch or two within theportal. Next moment I was walking noisily down the steps and along thepavement.

  Three minutes later I tiptoed back up the steps and tried the door. Iopened it slowly and without noise till I could thrust in my head. Thefellow was nowhere to be seen in the hall. I whipped in, and closed thedoor after me. Every board seemed to creak as I trod gingerly toward thestairway. In the empty house the least noise echoed greatly. The polishedstairs cried out hollowly my presence. I was half way up when I came to afull stop. Some one was coming down round the bend of the stairway. SoftlyI slid down the balustrade and crouched behind the post at the bottom. Theman--it was my friend of the shilling--passed within a foot of me, hishand almost brushing the hair of my head, and crossed the hall to a roomopposite. Again I went up the stairs, still cautiously, but with aconfidence born of the knowledge of his whereabouts.

  The house was large, and I might have wandered long without guessing wherelay the room I wanted had it not been for a slight sound that came tome--the low, soft sobbing of a woman. I groped my way along the darkpassage, turned to the left, and presently came to the door from behindwhich issued the sound. The door was locked on the outside, and the keywas in the lock. I knocked, and at once silence fell. To my second knock Igot no answer. Then I turned the key and entered.

  A girl was sitting at a table with her back to me, her averted headleaning wearily on her hand. Dejection spoke in every line of her figure.She did not even turn at my entrance, thinking me no doubt to be herguard. I stood waiting awkwardly, scarce knowing what to say.

  "Madam," I began, "may I-- Is there----?" So far I got, then I came to anembarrassed pause, for I might as well have talked to the dead for all theanswer I got. She did not honour me with the faintest sign of attention. Ihemmed and hawed and bowed to her back with a growing confusion.

  At last she asked over her shoulder in a strained, even voice,

  "What is it you're wanting now? You said I was to be left by my laneto-night."

  I murmured like a gawk that I was at her service, and presently as Ishifted from one foot to the other she turned slowly. Her face was a dumbcry for help, though it was a proud face too--one not lacking in fire andcourage. I have seen fairer faces, but never one more to my liking. It washer eyes that held me. The blue of h
er own Highland lochs, with all theirchanging and indescribably pathetic beauty, lurked deeply in them.Unconsciously they appealed to me, and the world was not wide enough tokeep me from her when they called. Faith, my secret is out already, and Ihad resolved that it should keep till near the end of my story!

  I had dropped my muddy cloak before I entered, and as she looked at me achange came over her. Despair gave way to a startled surprise. Her eyesdilated.

  "Who are you, sir? And--what are you doing here?" she demanded.

  I think some fear or presage of evil was knocking at her heart, for thoughshe fronted me very steadily her eyes were full of alarm. What should aman of rank be doing in her room on the night she had been abducted fromher lodgings unless his purpose were evil? She wore a long cloakstretching to the ground, and from under it slippered feet peeped out. Thecloak was of the latest mode, very wide and open at the neck andshoulders, and beneath the mantle I caught more than a glimpse of thelaced white nightrail and the fine sloping neck. 'Twas plain that herabductors had given her only time to fling the wrap about her before theysnatched her from her bedchamber. Some wild instinct of defense stirredwithin her, and with one hand she clutched the cloak tightly to herthroat. My heart went out to the child with a great rush of pity. The madfollies of my London life slipped from me like the muddy garment outside,and I swore by all I held most dear not to see her wronged.

  "Madam," I said, "for all the world I would not harm you. I have come tooffer you my sword as a defense against those who would injure you. Myname is Montagu, and I know none of the name that are liars," I cried.

  "Are you the gentleman that was for stopping the carriage as we came?" sheasked.

  "I am that same unlucky gentleman that was sent speldering in theglaur.[2] I won an entrance to the house by a trick, and I am here at yourservice," I said, throwing in my tag of Scotch to reassure her.

  "You will be English, but you speak the kindly Scots," she cried.

  "My mother was from the Highlands," I told her.

  "What! You have the Highland blood in you? Oh then, it is the good heartyou will have too. Will you ever have been on the braes of Raasay?"

  I told her no; that I had always lived in England, though my mother was aCampbell. Her joy was the least thing in the world daunted, and in hervoice there was a dash of starch.

  "Oh! A Campbell!"

  I smiled. 'Twas plain her clan was no friend to the sons of _Diarmaid_.

  "My father was out in the '15, and when he wass a wounded fugitive withthe Campbell bloodhounds on his trail Mary Campbell hid him till the chasewas past. Then she guided him across the mountains and put him in the wayof reaching the Macdonald country. My father married her after theamnesty," I explained.

  The approving light flashed back into her eyes.

  "At all events then I am not doubting she wass a good lassie, Campbell orno Campbell; and I am liking it that your father went back and marriedher."

  "But we are wasting time," I urged. "What can I do for you? Where do youlive? To whom shall I take you?"

  She fell to earth at once. "My grief! I do not know. Malcolm has gone toFrance. He left me with Hamish Gorm in lodgings, but they will not be safesince----" She stopped, and at the memory of what had happened there thewine crept into her cheeks.

  "And who is Malcolm?" I asked gently.

  "My brother. He iss an agent for King James in London, and he brought mewith him. But he was called away, and he left me with the gillie. To-nightthey broke into my room while Hamish was away, weary fa' the day! And nowwhere shall I go?"

  "My sister is a girl about your age. Cloe would be delighted to welcomeyou. I am sure you would like each other."

  "You are the good friend to a poor lass that will never be forgetting, andI will be blithe to burden the hospitality of your sister till my brotherreturns."

  The sharp tread of footsteps on the stairs reached us. A man was comingup, and he was singing languidly a love ditty.

  "What is love? 'Tis not hereafter, Present mirth has present laughter, What's to come is still unsure; In delay there lies no plenty, Then come kiss me sweet and twenty. Youth's a stuff will not endure."

  Something in the voice struck a familiar chord in my memory, but I couldnot put a name to its owner. The girl looked at me with eyes grownsuddenly horror-stricken. I noticed that her face had taken on the hue ofsnow.

  "We are too late," she cried softly.

  We heard a key fumbling in the lock, and then the door opened--to let inVolney. His hat was sweeping to the floor in a bow when he saw me. Hestopped and looked at me in surprise, his lips framing themselves for awhistle. I could see the starch run through and take a grip of him. Forjust a gliff he stood puzzled and angry. Then he came in wearing his readydare-devil smile and sat down easily on the bed.

  "Hope I'm not interrupting, Montagu," he said jauntily. "I dare say thoughthat's past hoping for. You'll have to pardon my cursedly malaproposappearance. Faith, my only excuse is that I did not know the lady wasentertaining other visitors this evening."

  He looked at her with careless insolence out of his beautiful dark eyes,and for that moment I hated him with the hate a man will go to hell tosatisfy.

  "You will spare this lady your insults," I told him in a low voice. "Atleast so far as you can. Your presence itself is an insult."

  "Egad, and that's where the wind sits, eh? Well, well, 'tis the manner ofthe world. When the cat's away!"

  A flame of fire ran through me. I took a step toward him, hand on swordhilt. With a sweep of his jewelled hand he waved me back.

  "Fie, fie, Kenn! In a lady's presence?"

  Volney smiled at the girl in mock gallantry and my eyes followed his. Inever saw a greater change. She was transformed. Her lithe young figurestood out tall and strong, every line of weariness gone. Hate, loathing,scorn, one might read plainly there, but no trace of fear or despair. Shemight have been a lioness defending her young. Her splendour of darkauburn hair, escaped and fallen free to her waist, fascinated me with theluxuriance of its disorder. Volney's lazy admiration quickened to a deeperinterest. For an instant his breath came faster. His face lighted with thejoy of the huntsman after worthy game. But almost immediately he recoveredhis aplomb. Turning to me, he asked with his odd light smile,

  "Staying long, may I ask?"

  My passion was gone. I was possessed by a slow fire as steady and asenduring as a burning peat.

  "I have not quite made up my mind how long to stay," I answered coldly."When I leave the lady goes with me, but I haven't decided yet what to dowith you."

  He began to laugh. "You grow amusing. 'Slife, you are not all country boorafter all! May it please you, what are the alternatives regarding myhumble self?" he drawled, leaning back with an elbow on the pillow.

  "Well, I might kill you."

  "Yes, you might. And--er-- What would I be doing?" he asked negligently.

  "Or, since there is a lady present, I might leave you till another time."

  His handsome, cynical face, with its curious shifting lights and shadows,looked up at me for once suffused with genuine amusement.

  "Stap me, you'd make a fortune as a play actor. Garrick is a tyro besideyou. Some one was telling me that your financial affairs had been goingwrong. An it comes to the worst, take my advice and out-Garrick Garrick."

  "You are very good. Your interest in my affairs charms me, Sir Robert.'Tis true they are not promising. A friend duped me. He held the Montaguestates higher than honour."

  He appeared to reflect. "Friend? Don't think I'm acquainted with any ofthe kind, unless a friend is one who eats your dinners, drinks your wines,rides your horses, and"--with a swift sidelong look at the girl--"makeslove to your charming adored."

  Into the girl's face the colour flared, but she looked at him with acontempt so steady that any man but Volney must have winced.

  "Friendship!" she cried with infin
ite disdain. "What can such as you knowof it? You are false as Judas. Did you not begowk my honest brother withfine words till he and I believed you one of God's noblemen, and when hisback was fairly turned----?"

  "I had the best excuse in London for my madness, Aileen," he said with thewistful little laugh that had gone straight to many a woman's heart.

  Her eye flashed and her bosom heaved. The pure girl-heart read him like anopen book.

  "And are you thinking me so mean a thing as still to care for your honeyedwords? Believe me, there iss no viper on the braes of Raasay moredetestable to me than you."

  I looked to see him show anger, but he nursed his silk-clad ankle with thesame insolent languor. He might have been a priest after the confessionalfor all the expression his face wore.

  "I like you angry, Aileen. Faith, 'tis worth being the object of your rageto see you stamp that pretty foot and clench those little hands I love tokiss. But Ecod! Montagu, the hour grows late. The lady will lose herbeauty sleep. Shall you and I go down-stairs and arrange for aconveyance?"

  He bowed low and kissed his fingers to the girl. Then he led the way outof the room, fine and gallant and debonair, a villain every inch of him.

  "Will you be leaving me?" the girl cried with parted lips.

  "Not for long," I told her. "Do not fear. I shall have you out of here ina jiff," and with that I followed at his heels.

  Sir Robert Volney led the way down the corridor to a small room in thewest wing, where flaring, half-burnt candles guttering in their sconcesdrove back the darkness. He leaned against the mantel and looked long atme out of half-closed eyes.

  "May I ask to what is due the honour of your presence to-night?" hedrawled at last.

  "Certainly."

  "Well?"

  "I have said you may ask," I fleered rudely. "But for me-- Gad's life! Iam not in the witness box."

  He took his snuff mull from his waistcoat pocket and offered it me, thentook a pinch and brushed from his satin coat imaginary grains withprodigious care.

  "You are perhaps not aware that I have the right to ask. It chances thatthis is my house."

  "Indeed! And the lady we have just left----?"

  "----Is, pardon me, none of your concern."

  "Ah! I'm not so sure of that."

  "Faith then, you'll do well to make sure."

  "And--er--Mistress Antoinette Westerleigh?"

  "Quite another matter! You're out of court again, Mr. Montagu."

  "Egad, I enter an exception. The lady we have just left is of another mindin the affair. She is the court of last resort, and, I believe, notcomplaisant to your suit."

  "She will change her mind," he said coolly.

  "I trust so renowned a gallant as Sir Robert would not use force."

  "Lard, no! She is a woman and therefore to be won. But I would advise youto dismiss the lady from your mind. 'Ware women, Mr. Montagu! You willsleep easier."

  "In faith, a curious coincidence! I was about to tender you the sameadvice, Sir Robert," I told him lightly.

  "You will forget the existence of such a lady if you are wise?"

  "Wisdom comes with age. I am for none of it."

  "Yet you will do well to remember your business and forget mine."

  "I have no business of my own, Sir Robert. Last night you generouslylifted all sordid business cares from my mind, and now I am quite free toattend those of my neighbours."

  He shrugged his shoulders in the French way. "Very well. A wilful man!You've had your warning, and-- I am not a man to be thwarted."

  "I might answer that I am not a man to be frightened."

  "You'll not be the first that has answered that. The others have 'HicJacet' engraved on their door plates. Well, it's an unsatisfactory worldat best, and Lard! they're well quit of it. Still, you're young."

  "And have yet to learn discretion."

  "That's a pity too," he retorted lightly. "The door is waiting for you.Better take it, Mr. Montagu."

  "With the lady?"

  "I fear the lady is tired. Besides, man, think of her reputation. Zounds!Can she gad about the city at night alone with so gay a spark as you? 'Tisa censorious world, and tongues will clack. No, no! I will save you fromany chance of such a scandal, Mr. Montagu."

  "Faith, one good turn deserves another. I'll stay here to save yourreputation, Sir Robert."

  "I fear that mine is fly-blown already and something the worse for wear.It can take care of itself."

  "Yet I'll stay."

  "Gad's life! Stay then."

  Volney had been standing just within the door, and at the word he steppedout and flung it to. I sprang forward, but before I reached it the clicksounded. I was a prisoner, caught like a fly in a spider's web, and muchit helped me to beat on the iron-studded door till my hand bled, to callon him to come in and fight it out like a man, to storm up and down theroom in a stress of passion.

  Presently my rage abated, and I took stock of my surroundings. The windowswere barred with irons set in stone sockets by masonry. I set my kneeagainst the window frame and tugged at them till I was moist withperspiration. As well I might have pulled at the pillars of St. Paul's. Itried my small sword as a lever, but it snapped in my hand. Again Iexamined the bars. There was no way but to pick them from their sockets bymaking a groove in the masonry. With the point of my sword I chippedindustriously at the cement. At the end of ten minutes I had madeperceptible progress. Yet it took me another hour of labour to accomplishmy task. I undid the blind fastenings, clambered out, and lowered myselffoot by foot to the ground by clinging to the ivy that grew thick alongthe wall. The vine gave to my hand, and the last three yards I took in arush, but I picked myself up none the worse save for a torn face andbruised hands.

  The first fall was Volney's, and I grudged it him; but as I took my way toBalmerino's lodgings my heart was far from heavy. The girl was safe forthe present. I knew Volney well enough for that. That his plan was to takeher to The Oaks and in seclusion lay a long siege to the heart of thegirl, I could have sworn. But from London to Epsom is a far cry, andbetween them much might happen through chance and fate and--KennethMontagu.

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  [2] Speldering in the glaur--sprawling in the mud.