THE 
 
 Last of the Macallisters 
 
 BY 
 
 AMELIA E. BARR 
 
 AUTHOR Of "jAN VEDDEr's WIFE," ''tHE BOW OF GRANGE RIBBOM," 
 " REMEMBER THE ALAMO," ETC 
 
 NEW YORK 
 DODD, MEAD & COMPANY 
 
 PUBLISHERS
 
 PS 
 
 I07Z 
 
 L3 
 
 Copyright, 1886, 
 
 BY 
 
 HARPER & BROS. 
 
 Copyright, 1889, 
 
 BY 
 
 DODD, MEAD & COMPANY. 
 A/i ri^Ais reserved.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 I. CHIEF AND LAWYii.l 5 
 
 II. THE chief's triumph 2$ 
 
 III. ASSYNT AND GRACE CAMERON 42 
 
 IV. LAIRD ANGUS AND A HORSE-TRADE 69 
 
 V, TWO QUARRELS AND TWO PROPOSALS. ... 90 
 
 VI. THE FIRST CLOUD OF THE STORM II7 
 
 VII. THE RUBICON PASSED I42 
 
 VIII. THE gypsy's REVENGE 169 
 
 IX. A prince's success and a gypsy's DEATH. I95 
 
 X. THE DEATH OF THE MACALLISTER 223 
 
 XI. A FAREWELL 248 
 
 XII. AFTER long YEARS 282
 
 THE LAST OF THE MACALLISTERS 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 CHIEF AND LAWYER. 
 
 "Oh, where are the pretty men of yore ? 
 
 Oh, where are the brave men gone ? 
 Oh, where are the heroes of the north ? 
 
 Each under his own gray stone. 
 The chiefs that were foremost of old, 
 
 Macdonald, and brave Lochiel, 
 The Gordon, the Murray, and the Graham, 
 
 With their clansmen true as steel." 
 
 " MacAllister, it is the height of nonsense 
 for you to fret and fume at this rate. Two 
 things you need never be angry at — what you 
 can help and what you cannot help ; and it's 
 plain you cannot help Cameron buying Assynt 
 and Balkerry. Do you know him at all ? " 
 
 " Know him ! know a trading body who has 
 dared to offer siller for an auld estate, sir ; an 
 estate as auld as the flood, sir ; a deal aulder, 
 sir ; siller scrapit together by some kind o' handi-
 
 6 THE LAST OF THE MACALLISTERS. 
 
 work ! Who was his grandfather ? A puir 
 Glasgo' wabster ! That's a bonnie origin for a 
 Highland chief! Ugh I And what's to come 
 of the MacLeods ? " 
 
 " They have shaken hands wi' Cameron, and 
 are goin' to turn herring-fishers." 
 
 " The MacLeods and the Camerons ! Certie ! 
 There's a bonnie pair o' them." 
 
 " Come, come, Laird ; it is ill sitting in Rome 
 and striving wi' the pope, as the saying is, A 
 man can live without his kin, but he canna live 
 without his neighbors, and I am free to tell you 
 that the wood in the Reay forest wants to be 
 let alone now, and there's that bill due the Perth 
 Bank. It's been noted and protested already, 
 MacAUister, and I'm thinking there is a writ o' 
 horning and caption on the road to Strathleven. 
 I heard of it at Tain." 
 
 " It is a far cry from Tain to Strathleven, 
 Fraser ; and what does MacAUister care for a 
 wheen lawyer's papers ? I'll just send a dozen 
 o' my gillies to meet them, and convoy them 
 back o'er the hills again." 
 
 " That's aboon your thumb, Laird, The law 
 is ower strong for any Highland chief now, and
 
 CHIEF AND LA WYER. 
 
 it's folly to show your teeth — unless you can 
 bite." 
 
 " It is na twenty years since I went wi' five 
 hundred wild MacAllisters into Moray's land, 
 and every man o' them took his prey." 
 
 " Ah weel, Laird ! Then was then, but now's 
 the now. The MacAllisters were never saints, 
 nor did they ever get the name o' it." 
 
 " They were never lawyers, anyway, nor fac- 
 tors, nor counting bodies, and you'll never speak 
 against the MacAllisters again, Fraser." 
 " My tongue isna under your belt, Laird," 
 " It's weel you say that under my roof, Fraser. 
 Gude manners you may hae, sir, but you dinna 
 carry them about wi' you." 
 
 " If a' things were true. Laird, that would be 
 nae lie. But there's no folly like falling out, and 
 I'm lawyer enough, if I keep my tongue, to keep 
 my siller likewise." 
 
 " How dare you anger me thus, Fraser ? " 
 " Dare is a hard word to crack, Laird." 
 " Umff ! Umff ! ! Umff ! ! ! Better be going, 
 sir. The gate is wide open afore you." 
 
 But Fraser filled his glass, and tied up care- 
 fully some accounts and papers, and then, with 
 his hat in his hand, said,
 
 8 THE LAST OF THE MACALLISTERS. 
 
 •' I shall stay a' night at Donald Du MacAl- 
 lister's, and maybe by the morn you'll cool and 
 come to yourself, Laird," Then he went slowly 
 down the mountain path, muttering at intervals : 
 " A man should haud his tongue in an ill time ; 
 and as for MacAllister's anger, I'll never fash my 
 head about it. I ken him as weel as if I had 
 gane through him wi' a lighted candle, and his 
 ill words ate only frae the teeth forward : his 
 heart is a' right. Maybe I should hae keepit a 
 stiller tongue in my head, but as gude gie the 
 insult as tak' it. And I needna do it again ; 
 once is no custom." 
 
 Just at this point in his soliloquy he turned a 
 sharp corner in the rocky descent, and for a mo- 
 ment forgot everything but the scene before him. 
 He had been among mountains shouldering one 
 another up to the sky, and there ! another step, 
 and a world of valleys was at his feet ! Valleys 
 like emeralds, and hills like amethyst, and streams 
 of silver tumbling down deep ravines, overgrown 
 with bracken and bell-heather. 
 
 " It's a bonnie land ! " he cried ; " a bonnie 
 land ! and it would be a sair pity for young Hec- 
 tor to lose it. If the auld laird wasna so con- 
 trairie, sae aggravating, I would, yes, I would — "
 
 CEIEF AND LA WYER. 9 
 
 And he turned around in an irresolute fashion 
 and faced Strathleven again. 
 
 But he did not return, for clear and cheerily 
 a strong young voice began chanting just below 
 him, 
 
 " Little wat ye wha's coming ! 
 Duncan's coming, Donald's coming, 
 Colin's coming, Ronald's coming, 
 Dougald's coming, Lauchlan's coming, 
 MacAllister and a's coming, 
 Borland and his men's coming 
 Cameron and McLean's coming, 
 Gordon and McGregor's coming, 
 Ilka dunywastle's coming." 
 
 " Hector, fair -fa' you, lad ! Why are ye sing- 
 ing these auld-warld rhymes ? Let byganes be 
 byganes, lad. Thae Stuarts are unlucky folk, 
 and ill-luck is catching. Let them alone, Hec- 
 tor, your father had trouble enough, in the '15, 
 my lad." 
 
 " That may be so, Fraser ; but when my men 
 are tired, or hungry, a lilt about — ye ken wha' 
 — makes the hardest hill as easy as dancing. 
 But you are turning your face the wrong way; 
 Strathleven is up, not down." 
 
 " I know that, but the laird and I hae been 
 calling each ither ill names ; and I am not going
 
 10 THE LAST OF THE MACALLISTERS. 
 
 back to Strathleven to-night — the morn's the 
 morn — but I am not going back to-night. Yet 
 there are counts to cast, and MacAllister will 
 neither see, nor hear, nor meddle with them." 
 
 " Where are you going, then? " 
 
 " To Donald Du's — and you had better come 
 along with me." 
 
 " If it is needful, yes ; but I must send the 
 lads home, they are tired and hungry." 
 
 The lads were about a score in number — a 
 score men such as could hardly be found, except 
 in Caithness and Sutherland, giants in stature, 
 in strength, and in heart; "pretty men, every 
 ane o' them," as Fraser admiringly allowed, 
 though they were all distinctly inferior to the 
 young laird. He said a few words to the gilly 
 nearest to him, and, lifting his bonnet to his 
 companions, motioned to them to proceed with- 
 out him. 
 
 In this interval Hector's bright face had 
 gathered a slight shadow. He knew that only 
 some event of importance had brought Fraser to 
 Strathleven out of his usual order of coming, 
 and he had lived long enough in Edinburgh to 
 be aware that the lawyer's bills and papers 
 which his father treated with such sublime scorn
 
 CHIEF AND LA WYER. 1 1 
 
 were capable of holding their own, even in the 
 wilds of Sutherland. 
 
 But down the narrow mountain path it was 
 impossible to converse, and the two men walked 
 on in silence until they came to Donald Du's 
 cottage. It was a little stone hut of three rooms, 
 very much superior to the ordinary shielings of 
 the MacAllisters ; for Donald Du was the laird's 
 foster brother, and on him rested the actual di- 
 rection of all the chief's orders. He was eating 
 his supper when they entered, and though it was 
 July, the table was drawn close to the peat fire. 
 
 " Fa's tat ? Maister Fraser and ta young 
 laird? Come in, shentlemans, her nainsel is 
 glad to see ye baith. Ta porridge is shust 
 ready, and ta fresh feesh, and ta goot whiskey — 
 ta real, right thing, shentlemen." 
 
 In a few moments the visitors had laid aside 
 their bonnets, and their porridge was before 
 them. 
 
 " Is it ta whiskey or ta cow's milk ye'll be 
 wanting wi' your meal ? " asked Donald of the 
 lawyer. 
 
 "I'll just tak' them baith, Donald," said 
 Fraser. 
 
 Donald was not regarded as any hinderance to
 
 12 THE LAST OF THE 3IACA LUSTERS. 
 
 a confidential conversation, and when the por- 
 ridge had taken the edge off their hunger, and 
 while they sat waiting for the trout broiling on 
 the embers at their feet, Fraser said, 
 
 " I hae sure information that thae Perth bodies 
 hae sent aff the writ and constables, anent that 
 bill the laird gave, and willna talk about paying." 
 
 Hector laughed, but not very pleasantly. 
 "Well," he said, "what can they do? " 
 
 " They can take the laird away bodily, and 
 clap him within four stone walls, that's what 
 they can do — if they are not hindered." 
 
 " How can we hinder them, then ? " 
 
 " No ways but by paying the money. Four 
 hundred pounds sterling ! Hector, lad, it is a 
 big sum." 
 
 "Her nainsel wadna pay a penny o' it. Turn 
 ta craters free in ta Reay forest, and let them 
 fint their ways hame to Perth again. It will pe 
 a lang time ere they win there — yes, inteet ! " 
 
 " Hout, Donald ! That's fair nonsense." 
 
 " Gie them ta whole Reay forest. That wad 
 pe vera ceevil." 
 
 " Senselessly ceevil. The money is due, and 
 the money must be paid. Folk canna eat their
 
 CHIEF AND LAWYER. 13 
 
 cake and hae it too ; Hector kens that as weel as 
 I do." 
 
 " How can we raise the money ? " 
 
 "That is warld-like talk. It is raised, I 
 brought it wi' me. But MacAllister gat into a 
 raging temper every time I spoke of paying it. 
 Donald must get him awa to the Reay forest — 
 there are reasons enough besides the timber, and 
 cattle ; and Hector, you must go off somewhere 
 with that red-hot brother o' yours, or he'll be 
 sure to put a quarrelsome finger in the pie. 
 Then if I am left myself to manage thae limbs 
 of the law, we'll neither kill each ither nor burn 
 the house about our heads." 
 
 Hector's foot was patting the floor in a very 
 irritable manner, and the frown on his handsome 
 face was a dark one. 
 
 "It is a just debt, Hector, and a just debt 
 ought to be paid." 
 
 " I know that ; it is the making of these 
 debts. Don't you see they are ruining the 
 estate? How can they be prevented? " 
 
 " I have thought o' that, and we'll speak o' 
 the matter anon. To-night you had better go to 
 Strathleven and do what you may do to get the 
 laird out o' harm's way. It is true that if we
 
 14 THE LAST OF TEE MACALLISTERS. 
 
 pay the debt they canna touch him, but the 
 Laird o' MacAUister isna always laird o' him- 
 sel', and his dirk is whiles far too near his hand." 
 
 There seemed to be no better thing to do, and 
 after some further reasoning with Donald Du — 
 who refused to see any claim superior to Mac- 
 Allister's in the MacAUister's country — Hector 
 went thoughtfully home. Every year he was 
 becoming more painfully conscious that they 
 were living out of time and tune with the great 
 world outside them. Travel and a liberal 
 education had convinced him long ago that a 
 noble estate was being recklessly wasted in an 
 endeavor to avoid dangers that sooner or later 
 were inevitable. 
 
 To-night he blamed himself severely, perhaps 
 more so than he deserved, for it was no light 
 task that presented itself to him as a duty. 
 Indeed, it was a task from which an affectionate 
 son might well shrink, since any plan of his for 
 economizing or improving the MacAUister lands 
 must necessarily seem selfish to those in the 
 present enjoyment of them. His father might 
 suspect that he was looking towards the time 
 when he himself would be chief of the Mac- 
 AUisters, and he knew that his brother Angus
 
 CHIEF AND LA WYER. 1 5 
 
 *would keenly resent any curtailment of tlie 
 ancient glories or privileges of the clan. 
 
 And Angus was very dear to Hector. In his 
 great love for the lad he threw a heroic glamour 
 over all the wild deeds rumor ascribed to him. 
 It was easy also to make excuses for Angus ; he 
 had never been beyond his native mountains ; 
 his world was Caithness and Sutherland. Out- 
 side their boundaries London to Labrador seemed 
 equally remote from his interests and sympa- 
 thies. 
 
 Of course his education had been faulty, but 
 Hector was not to blame for that. He had often 
 tried to persuade Angus to go southward and 
 enter some famous school, but from childhood 
 the lad had loved a sword better than a book. 
 His mother dying at his birth under very sor- 
 rowful circumstances, he had been wholly left to 
 the unreasoning affection of men and women 
 who had taught him mainly two things — the use 
 of weapons and the superiority of the MacAllis- 
 ters. 
 
 So, to Angus, the world revolved in the Mac- 
 AlHster country, and the laird of the clan saw in 
 this son his own wild, heroic youth, and loved 
 him for the backward vision. How then was
 
 l6 THE LAST OF THE 3TACALLISTERS. 
 
 Hector to make clear to them the necessity for 
 turning their swords into ploughshares without 
 laying himself open to suspicions he could not 
 bear to contemplate ? 
 
 Busy with such thoughts as these — thoughts 
 in which Angus was somehow always first and 
 last — he lifted his eyes as he felt the soft lawn 
 of the castle court beneath his feet, and saw 
 Angus coming to meet him. Angus was a tall, 
 dark youth in kilt and philibeg, with a face 
 more serious than Hector's, and a stature that in 
 the evening dusk looked almost gigantic. Nor 
 did his appearance belie his real strength ; the 
 dirk in his belt had been won in fair and open 
 contest from Grant of Grant, and the feather in 
 his bonnet plucked by his own hand from the 
 wing of an eagle in the dark fastnesses of Ben 
 More. 
 
 Yet, unreasonable as Angus frequently was 
 with all others, to Hector he always listened 
 with loving patience ; and now, as he joined him 
 in the court, he said, eagerly, " Hector, I have 
 waited from my bed to see thee. Two things 
 have ^one "wrong with me to-day, I have quar- 
 reled with Ewen, and our father is sair troubled
 
 CHIEF AND LA WYER. 1/ 
 
 about something. The world is turning wither- 
 shins, I think." 
 
 " Our father has good reasons for trouble, 
 Angus. Come here ;'' and the two young men 
 leaned together over the wall which guarded the 
 court, and from which the hil) went down on 
 three sides in a sheer precipice of five hundred 
 feet. " To-morrow there will be men here who 
 unless he pays them four hundred pounds, will 
 carry him to Perth and put him in prison." 
 
 " You are talking foolishness, Hector ; they 
 dare do no such thing ! " 
 
 " Angus, dear lad, get quickly rid of such 
 dreams. Outside our own land the world cares 
 no more for the chief of MacAUister than it does 
 for the chief of the gypsy camp down at Du- 
 chally." 
 
 " What is to be done ?" 
 
 " The money is to be paid." 
 
 " Where is it to be got ? " 
 
 " It is got. Fraser has it, but our father will 
 not hear of paying it. Now it must be done, and 
 it may as well be done quietly. So I trust to 
 you and Donald ; you must take the laird away 
 on some pretext to the Reay forest." 
 
 " When will these men be here ? " 
 
 2
 
 1 5 THE LAST OF THE MA CA L TASTERS. 
 
 " I think to-morrow, Fraser heard of them at 
 Tain, and came on as quickly as possible ; but it 
 is a bad road for those strange to it." 
 
 " Perhaps they will take the northern pass." 
 
 " They are sure to do that ; indeed, Fraser had 
 certain tidings of them at Strathdonan yester- 
 day. You will give your word with mine, 
 Angus, and keep our father beyond trouble for 
 a few days," 
 
 " Surely, Hector. A man can only walk as 
 his shoes will let him ; and if we cannot fight a 
 wrong, why I suppose we must bear it." 
 
 ** Come inside now, Angus, it is getting late." 
 
 " No, no, there is more for me to do yet. I 
 must see Ewen before I go in ; it is ill sleeping 
 with a drawn dirk between us." 
 
 " Oh, Angus, you are the noblest lad ! and 
 now I am free to say that you owe it to Ewen. 
 He is your foster-father, and three times your 
 age, and he loves you almost as well as I do." 
 
 " All that may be, and yet Ewen may be 
 wrong and I right ; but I must needs see h'm, 
 so good-night. Hector, and trouble not yourself 
 about the day and the folks you never saw, for 
 all the men in Scotland can do no more than 
 they may do."
 
 CHIEF AND LA WYER. 1 9 
 
 So Hector went into the castle to talk over 
 affairs with his father, and Angus took the road 
 down the mountain. There was no moon, but 
 daylight lingers long in that latitude, and the 
 solemn gray stillness was only intensified by the 
 whispering of the pines and the soft plashing of 
 the linn down the rocky defile at his right 
 hand. 
 
 Ewen sat at the door of his cottage, and he 
 must have been deeply hurt by their dispute, 
 for he never noticed his favorite's approach. 
 For a moment Angus stood silently over him, 
 then he touched him gently and said, " Ewen, 
 Ewen, there is nothing for misdeeds but amends ; 
 I did you wrong, my father ! I am sorry." 
 
 In an instant the old man was pouring out in 
 a torrent of Gaelic his love, his sorrow, and his 
 utter devotion to his young chief, and the quar- 
 rel ended, as many a quarrel between them had 
 done before, in their weeping upon each other's 
 necks. 
 
 " And now we shall drink the peace-cup, 
 Ewen, for I have something particular to ttll 
 you." 
 
 They talked earnestly, and yet cheerfully, until 
 after midnight, and then Angus did not return
 
 20 THE LAST OF THE 3IACALLISTERS. 
 
 to Strathleven, but lay down in Ewen's cottage 
 upon a pallet of fresh brackens. Ewen stood 
 some time afterwards in the open door, holding 
 an argument with himself. But at last he 
 seemed to be perfectly satisfied, for, as he lay 
 down, he muttered: " It is petter ta keep ta deil 
 out than to hae to put him out ; aye, is it." 
 
 In the meantime Eraser was sleeplessly watch- 
 ing out the night in Donald Du's cottage. He 
 missed sorely the comfort of his own feather bed, 
 and the little bachelor luxuries with which he 
 had surrounded himself. 
 
 " It's a born fool I am to be putting mysel' in 
 danger 'o the rheumatics for a man bound to go 
 to ruin ony way ; and here's a mist thick enou' 
 to wet a hielandman to the skin, no' to speak o' 
 their hot tempers and their hasty hands. I'll e'en 
 win my way hame again as cannily as I can, and 
 let what will be will be." 
 
 But as soon as the sun rose and filled the val- 
 ley with sunshine Eraser felt more like himself. 
 " Oh, how sweet and fresh is this caller air," he 
 said joyfully, " and the mavis singing on every 
 tree, and the lark awa' up in the lift, and the 
 gowans and bluebells glinting all over the strath. 
 It wad be baith a sin and a shame no' to try and
 
 CHIEF AND LA WTER 21 
 
 keep the land thegither for that braw lad, Hec- 
 tor, for he is warld-like and sensible, so I'll e'en 
 awa up to Strathleven Castle, and see which way 
 the wind sits in MacAUister's temper this morn- 
 ing." 
 
 He found Donald Du already dressed, and 
 eating his porridge and whiskey in something of 
 a hurry. 
 
 " Ta laird was going to Strathoikel to see and 
 hear tell o' ta Ross men, and she'll na move 
 a step at a' without her nainsel," he explained. 
 
 Hearing this, Fraser at once began the ascent 
 to the castle, for he well knew that even giving 
 himself half the distance as a start, Donald's 
 mighty steps would behkelyto leave him behind. 
 He found the hall of the castle in the greatest 
 confusion. Gillies were running hither and 
 thither, buckling garters and belts, packing 
 baskets with oatcakes and Farintosh, or attempt- 
 ing to execute a score of orders which the chief 
 thought of at the last moment. 
 
 There was a strange and perplexing hubbub, 
 made up of Gaelic and English cries, of shrill 
 calls and whistles, of laughter and angry disput- 
 ing, and Fraser, seeing how impossible any
 
 22 THE LAST OF THE MACALLISTERS. 
 
 reasonable conversation was, determined to ig- 
 nore the quarrel of the preceding night. 
 
 Of course he expected the laird to be equally- 
 conciliating, but that was a step quite beyond 
 the MacAllister's nature. 
 
 " Come in, Fraser," he said with a lofty 
 condescension, " come in ; you are welcome, 
 though you did set yoursel' up in a blaze yes- 
 treen." 
 
 " What's in the wind this morning, Laird ? " 
 
 " As if ye didna ken weel enough, Andrew 
 Fraser ! There's some o' your ain craft coming 
 o'er the hills to tak' me — me mind ye ! — awa' to 
 prison. Heard ye ever the like ? And a' for 
 a miserable screed of a goose-feather! " 
 
 " Weel, Laird, I'll do a' that may be to settle 
 the matter." 
 
 " But ye'U pay no siller, Andrew Fraser, not a 
 bawbee. Why should I ? I never saw the 
 color o' their Perth money, not I." 
 
 " But, Laird, it was paid on your ain hand- 
 write to Dalraid & Dounachy for the linsey and 
 tartans I sent you last November." 
 
 " I tell ye I never saw a bawbee o' it, I ken 
 not if there be such bodies as Dalraid & Doun-
 
 CHIEF A XD LAWYER. 23 
 
 achy. Now what for should I pay back siller I 
 never saw ? " 
 
 " But the tartans, Laird ? " 
 
 "Umff! Thae Perth craters ought to be 
 thankfu' that a few yards o' tartan is all their 
 loss. My father, the gude laird Alexander, 
 would hae gane wi' five hundred men, and just 
 taen a' the tartan he needed, maybe other little 
 matters besides." 
 
 " Then if I am not to pay the siller, Laird, 
 what am I to do ? " 
 
 "One lawyer ought to ken how to fleece 
 another. It would ill become me, Laird Hector 
 MacA-llister, to hae any hobble-shaw anent such 
 matters as wabster's and tailor's bills. Lawyer 
 against lawyer, it will be a proper wrastle, that 
 it will, and dinna you be the one to gie in first" 
 
 " And where are you going. Laird ? " 
 
 " It isna quite determined on yet; but I'll be 
 somewhere in the Edderkyles deer forest. They 
 will be brave men that follow me there without 
 a guide, and they will be rich men that can hire 
 a guide in the MacAllister's land. Ane o' them 
 bonnie-looking bogs, not twenty feet wide, 
 wouldna mak a moutfu' o' the Court o' Session 
 and the London Parliament, wi' all the lawyers
 
 24 Tim LAST OF THE MACALLISTERS. 
 
 on King Geordie's rolls thrown into the bargain. 
 Gude-morning to you, Fraser, there's Hector to 
 stand beside ye, and whatever Hector puts his 
 hand to, I'll say yes to it. There's my thumb 
 on that promise." 
 
 So at the last Fraser had got what he desired, 
 for he understood that this was simply the laird's 
 way of accepting the thing he knew to be inevit- 
 able. 
 
 "And he must just hae his little bluster if it 
 soothes his pride a bit," said Fraser, apologeti- 
 cally, as he watched the laird and his following 
 disappear among the dark woods of Loch Mora. 
 " Paying debts is a hard lesson to learn, if 
 ye dinna start it till ye are mair than saxty years 
 auld "
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE chief's triumph. 
 
 " Often do the spirits 
 Of great events stride on before the events, 
 And in to-day already walks to-morrow." 
 
 " Helen's beauty in a brow of Egpyt." 
 
 " Come in now, Fraser, and have your break- 
 fast ; my father has gone away as happy as a 
 child on a holiday." 
 
 Fraser turned in gladly enough ; a breakfast 
 with Hector meant an orderly, if not a luxurious 
 meal, and when they entered the little parlor 
 where it was laid he could not help a sigh of 
 content and pleasant anticipation. " Ham and 
 corned beef and pies, and kippered salmon and 
 tongue and eggs, and fresh butter and thick 
 cream and marmalade ! Certes, Hector, a good 
 breakfast, and a good appetite, the cause is ex- 
 cellent, lad, and the word is * fall to.' " 
 
 The order was heartily obeyed, so heartily 
 that it was not until Fraser pushed aside the dish 
 of lordly salmon that he found time to say : "I 
 
 25
 
 26 THE LAST OF THE 3IACALLISTEE3.' 
 
 have not seen Angus this morning ; I hope he 
 has taken the same road as the laird." 
 
 " I think he has. He slept at Ewen's last 
 night, and Ewen and he were here at dawning. 
 I heard them say they would meet the laird at 
 the hunting-lodge in the Edderkyle." 
 
 " That is well. I was mair feared for Angus 
 than for his father ; the lad has a double portion 
 o' the MacAllister's temper." 
 
 " I wonder what is best to do for him ? '' 
 
 " There is nae remedy for temper but in cut- 
 ting aff the head — unless, maybe, marriage. I 
 hae heard that a wife wad tame the sea, and ye 
 could find one for it." And the old bachelor 
 laughed queerly as he added : " For mysel' 1 
 wald rather thole the disease than the cure for 
 it. But if a wife wad sort Angus's temper, then 
 I ken the very lassie he should wed." 
 
 "Helen MacDonald?" 
 
 " Na, na, it is just bonnie Grace Cameron. 
 Why Hector, she is a kind o' Providence for the 
 MacAllister. Look here, my lad " — and Eraser 
 bent eagerly forward — "Assynt and Balkerry 
 touch the Edderkyle on the north, and lay easy 
 all along the MacAllister country on the east. 
 They hae bonnie lochs and bays for herring-fish-
 
 THE CHIEF'S TRIUMPH. 2/ 
 
 I'ng, and they hae rich marble quarries, and 
 wealth o' garnets and pebble-stanes. It is a 
 natural bit o' your estate, and the lassie is gude 
 and bonnie. Why should we not mak' a wed- 
 ding o' it?" 
 
 " But Angus might not love her, and I would 
 never advise him to marry any woman unless he 
 did love her," 
 
 " That is a' clavers, Hector MacAllister, as it 
 is said, 
 
 '"There's plenty good love in bands and bags, 
 
 And siller and gold is a sweet complexion.' 
 
 Ah ! I mind auld Bailie MacPherson, that was a 
 song o' his, and he heeded it too, for he married 
 wi' a rich widow — Jessie, relict o' Gavin Fraser ; 
 she was my ain cousin by marriage sax times 
 removed — all of which is neither here nor there, 
 for I was speaking o' a marriage atween the 
 lands o' MacAllister and Cameron." 
 
 " Well, speak no more on such a matter, 
 Fraser ; I would rather lose every acre I am to 
 have than see Angus sell himself for more." 
 
 " It's no' a bad price for any lad — Assynt and 
 Balkerry."
 
 28 THE LAST OF THE MACALLISTERS. 
 
 " It is too little for Angus — I believe I saw this 
 Miss Cameron in Edinburgh." 
 
 " That did you not, sir ! It is four years syne 
 you were in Edinburgh, and Grace Cameron is 
 just seventeen last April, the saxteenth day. I 
 ken that, for she spent her birthday in my poor 
 bit home.'' 
 
 " Oh, oh ! your poor bit home ! You know it 
 is the prettiest place in Dornoch. But what was 
 Miss Cameron doing in your poor bit home ? " 
 
 " Gude reason for her visit. Hector. I did the 
 conveyancing and writing wark for the selling 
 and buying of Assynt, and the inn was dirty and 
 noisy, and so I e'en asked John Cameron and 
 his daughter to stop at my house. It was an 
 unca' pleasant thing to see her makin' out the 
 tea in my parlor morn and night ; and when she 
 went awa' I missed her sairly for a while." 
 
 " Then you know Miss Cameron ? " 
 
 " Yes. When you ha' lived three weeks in 
 the same house wi* a lassie you may kind o' say 
 you know her — not but what a fifteenth-century 
 deed is easier reading than maist o' them." 
 
 " Is she beautiful ? " 
 
 " Bonnie as flowers in May ; dainty-like and
 
 THE CHIEF'S TRIUMPH. 29 
 
 high-bred. She ay minded me o' sweet dewy- 
 roses and caller air." 
 
 " What color is her hair ? " 
 
 " I canna rightly say, but it is ay snooded 
 prettily ; and she has eyes like blue forget-me- 
 nots — clear, open eyes, laddie, that look you 
 straight in the face." 
 
 " She might be a proper wife for Angus. It 
 often grieves me to think I shall have all this es- 
 tate, and Angus nothing at all. It is a bad 
 law." 
 
 *' Speak o' what you understand. Hector, and 
 then you willna speak against the law. There 
 wouldna be a decent estate in Scotland but for 
 it." 
 
 " It is no fault of Angus's that he is younger, 
 and he is not fit for any life but the one he is 
 leading. Now if he could be induced to fall in 
 love with Miss Cameron, she could not help but 
 love him, I think, and then — don't you see, Fra- 
 ser ?" 
 
 " Yes, I see. But wha or what is going to in- 
 duce Angus MacAllister to do aught he i^ 
 wanted to do ? He is just the maist contrary o 
 lads." 
 
 " Forbid him to love her or tell him some one
 
 30 THE LAST OF TS^E 3f A CA LUSTERS. 
 
 else wants her, and Angus will swim Loch As- 
 synt every night to see her." 
 
 In conversation appertaining to this matter 
 the breakfast hour passed, and then Fraser and 
 Hector had other important topics to discuss, 
 for the lawyer had much to say against the way 
 in which MacAUister lived; he wanted the clans- 
 men to be released from all feudal obligations, 
 to turn their attention to fishing and cattle, so 
 that in a few years they would be able to support 
 themselves. 
 
 "The expense would be great at first. Hector, 
 but the MacGunns — the maist unruly o' mortals 
 — want to go to Canada; and if your father will 
 sell the land they are on he will be clear in ten 
 years, and have a' the North Country banks 
 courting his business." 
 
 " The MacAUister will never consent." 
 
 " But, lad, the MacAllisters canna hold the 
 warld in their bridle. And look here ;" then 
 eagerly the lawyer spread out the maps and es- 
 timates and showed how this land could be made 
 to raise black cattle, and that land sheep, and the 
 forest and lochs be great game and -fishing pre- 
 serves, until Hector was astounded with the 
 probable profits of such a scheme. Thus the
 
 THE CHIEF'S TRIUMPH. 3^ 
 
 long summer day passed without scarcely a 
 thought of the visitors for whom'they were wait- 
 ing. But when night came, and there was still 
 no sign of them, they began to speculate as to 
 the causes of their delay. 
 
 These speculations were tinged with anxiety 
 when at the end of the second day there was 
 still no sign of them. On the third day Hector 
 sent scouts to inspect the road and various moun- 
 tain passes, but they came back without any 
 positive information. They indeed met one man 
 who had spoken with the party among the hills 
 that guard Loch Shin, but beyond them they 
 had not left a footmark. 
 
 On the evening of the fourth day Fraser came 
 in from a ramble with a gloomy and perplexed 
 face. " Hector," he said, " I hae just met wi' 
 twa men who hae na been in this country since the 
 year Angus was born. I don't know on what 
 terms the laird and they parted, but it was either 
 as sworn friends or sworn foes, there could be 
 naething atween the twa for them ; and I think, 
 if you will gie me a guide, I will go to the Ed- 
 derkyle to-morrow and hae speech with the 
 laird."
 
 32 THE LAST OF THE MACALLISTERS. 
 
 " You will find it a rough journey. Can I go 
 for you ? " 
 
 " I can tread your father's steps up hill or down 
 dale, and if the laird hasna told you anent this 
 matter, I would ill like to be the man who 
 should speak, without leave, of affairs sae pri- 
 vate to him. How auld were you when Angus 
 was born ? " 
 
 "I was full seven years old." 
 
 "Do you remember your mother? " 
 
 " I remember her in a hundred ways, but best 
 of all the last time I saw her. Angus was two 
 days old then, and she called me to her side and 
 made me hold his baby hands and promise her 
 that I would always be a good, loving, patient 
 brother to him. I have kept my promise, 
 Fraser." 
 
 " You have. She was a bonnie woman." 
 
 " The loveliest I ever saw." 
 
 "And the laird loved her ? " 
 
 " I have never seen him weep but at her 
 death. No other woman I am sure has ever 
 taken her place, and her room has never been 
 unlocked, to my knowledge, since she was car- 
 ried out of it." 
 
 " Then, Hector, it is plain I must go mysel'.
 
 THE CHIEF S TRIUMPH. 33 
 
 Friends or foes, it is as well that MacAllister 
 should have his wits about him when he sees 
 these men first." 
 
 " We are a troublesome family to you, Fraser. 
 I declare, it passes me to tell why you take so 
 much interest in our fortunes. I am sure the 
 money you get hardly pays your expenses." 
 
 " I tak' my lawfu' commission always in the 
 way o' business ; but there is mair than business 
 here ; I am paying off" an auld debt, lad, and I 
 like to pay it. Do you want to ken how much 
 I owe the MacAUisters ?" 
 
 Hector smiled disbelievingly and nodded his 
 head. 
 
 " I'll tell you, laddie. The Frasers — as the 
 whole warld kens o' them — have aye been daft 
 anent the unlucky Stuarts. They ' flung up 
 their bonnets wi' bonnie Dundee,' and my ain 
 father fought wi' him at the pass o' Killecrankie. 
 Then when he was hunted all through these 
 hills for fighting for the king he liked best, the 
 laird Alexander MacAllister hid him, and fed 
 him, and got him safe avva' to France ; though 
 he himself was in trouble anent the same matter. 
 That was nae lesson to me, for when the Chev- 
 alier cam' o'er the water I sided wi' the Stuarts 
 3
 
 34 THE LAST OF THE MACALLISTERS. 
 
 again, and your father and I fought side by side 
 at Sheriffmuir. For that folly I owe him my 
 life twice over; he saved me on the battle-field, 
 and afterwards he made a certain grand kinsman 
 o' his save me from the hanging at Carlisle gate. 
 Sae ye see I hae a long score to pay aff, Hector, 
 and I like to pay it." 
 
 The next morning Fraser set out with a con- 
 voy of six men to seek the laird in the Edder- 
 kyles, and Hector was conscious of a very un- 
 pleasant anxiety and restlessness all day. It 
 was also exceedingly sultry, and in the gloam- 
 ing, when he had given up all hope of his visi- 
 tors, he was no longer able to resist the tempta- 
 tion to walk outside the castle court. There 
 was a little plateau one hundred feet down the 
 mountain ; it was thickly planted with pines on 
 one side, but on the other it was free and open, 
 and standing there one could overlook the 
 whole strath. 
 
 It was the sweetest hour of the gloaming, 
 the evening crimson hung over the mountains 
 like a royal mantle, the curlews' wild bravura 
 echoed from the fells, and the craik of the rail 
 came faintly up from the valley. The bat and 
 the heavy moths and the musing owl were
 
 THE CHIEF'S TRIUMPH. 35 
 
 abroad, but for any other life Hector believed 
 himself to be quite alone. 
 
 Suddenly he became intensely conscious of 
 companionship, the companionship of a human 
 soul. He stood up and looked carefully around, 
 but though he was convinced of this impression, 
 however inexplicable such a sensation is, he kept 
 a sharp lookout, for he knew not whether it 
 might be friend or foe. 
 
 The wood was growing dark ; if he had an 
 enemy to meet he preferred doing so where at 
 least he would not be in danger of an assassin's 
 blow. So he turned towards the castle, and 
 then in the clearer light he saw a figure leaning 
 against a large fir-tree. He saw it to be a 
 woman's figure, slight and young. She turned 
 and faced him as he approached, gazing steadily 
 at him ; and if she had been watching him in 
 the wood with those great, lustrous dark eyes, 
 there was no wonder that Hector had been 
 troubled by their eager questioning. In the dim 
 light they shone like lamps, and compelled him 
 to stand before her quite fascinated by their 
 gaze. 
 
 He never thought of her dress, he saw only 
 the slight, graceful figure, and the pale, oval face
 
 36 THE LAST OF THE MACALLISTERS. 
 
 lit by those wonderful eyes. For a moment 
 they looked silently at each other, then Hector's 
 native gentlemanhood asserted itself. He doffed 
 his bonnet and said, " I am afraid you have lost 
 your way. Can I be of service to you ? " 
 
 " I have not lost my way, sir." 
 
 " There is not a MacAllister that would hurt 
 a lady on their own hills, but the night grows 
 late, and I have heard of strangers around. Can 
 I see you safely to your friends ? " 
 
 " Can you tell me where I can have speech 
 with the young laird of MacAllister ? " 
 
 " I am he." 
 
 " How shall I know that ? " 
 
 " I have said so. I would not lie to you." 
 
 " Then listen. Your brother Angus has done 
 a very foolish thing, and may be in great danger 
 from it. I know not ; but you have a lawyer 
 with you, ask him. It is thus, and so. Two 
 days ago he and his companions met some men 
 coming to Strathleven. They beguiled them 
 away to the caves of Logan, and while the men 
 were in a drunken sleep took from them their 
 papers and left them to find their way home 
 again. If they get over Logan bogs they will
 
 TEE CHIEF'S TRIUMPH. 37 
 
 be in Perth within two or three days. That is 
 all." 
 
 " One moment stay. When shall I see you 
 again ? " 
 
 " If you need any help to save Angus Mac- 
 AUister from trouble, fasten the ribbon from 
 your bonnet to this tree. I will meet you here 
 as soon after as may be." 
 
 " Before you go tell me what I must call you ?" 
 
 " There is no need to name me ; we may pos- 
 sibly never meet again." 
 
 Then she waved her hand in a way Hector 
 felt himself bound to respect, and glided rapidly 
 into the wood. He went towards home greatly 
 troubled. If only Fraser had been at Strath- 
 leven ! It was indeed evident that he must fol- 
 low him as soon as possible. Full of this deter- 
 mination he approached the castle, and was as- 
 tonished to find it the scene of unusual bustle. 
 Lights were in many rooms, servants hurrying 
 to and fro, and as he neared the court he heard 
 his father's voice in a more than ordinary exul- 
 tant tone. Angus was with him, Angus and 
 Fraser both ; and on every face but that of the 
 old lawyer there were marks of triumphant satis- 
 faction.
 
 38 THE LAST OF THE MACALLISTERSi 
 
 When Hector entered, the laird began over 
 again the tale he was telling his clansmen — the 
 tale of " six limbs o' the law," who had been be- 
 guiled by Angus and Ewen. Amid roars of 
 laughter he described the struggles of the " city 
 loons " through the Lachy Moss, and over the 
 Nob of Kerrycan, and ankle-deep in the sands 
 of Winn Ness. " And here's the papers, my 
 pretty men, that were to clap your chief atween 
 four stane walls. Now what will I do wi' them ? " 
 
 " Burn them, MacAUister, burn them, and I'll 
 tune up my chanter, and we'll hae a strathspey 
 to the bleeze o* them," cried the clan piper, and 
 so, in spite of Hector and Eraser's appeals to 
 be heard, the papers were flung on the red-hot 
 peats, while Roy MacAUister, piper and gentle- 
 man, blew out the wildest stave of the wildest 
 dance music in the whole world. 
 
 The laird himself led off the measure with his 
 stately younger son, the piper striding up and 
 down the hall, and stirring to a kind of frenzy 
 the yet half-wild blood of the wild MacAllisters. 
 The dancing, enthusiastic as it was, was soon 
 further stimulated by shrill cries and loud snap- 
 pings of the fingers. The excitement soon be- 
 came intoxicating. Hector found himself unable
 
 THE CHIEF S TRIUMPH. 39 
 
 to resist it. He took his brother by the hand, 
 the old laird bowed to Fraser, the lawyer 
 stepped boldly out, and to the cheers of the 
 clansmen and the delirious notes of Lady Flora 
 MacDonald they danced that night a wonderful 
 foursome reel. 
 
 Of course, when the night's revelry was over 
 and the morning brought reflection, Fraser was 
 full of regrets for his weakness. " I dinna ken 
 whatever cam o'er me," he said penitently, to 
 Hector, " but when I saw McAllister stepping sae 
 stately east and west, and smiling sae happily, 
 and holding out his hand sae heartily, the auld 
 spirit took clean possession o' me, and I wad hae 
 danced my head aff — mair shame to a graybeard 
 like me." 
 
 " You danced well, Fraser ; not even Angus 
 had a finer spring, or a more graceful step. 
 Everyone thought it wonderful in you." 
 
 " Yes," said the old fellow, more than half- 
 pleased, " I was aye noticed in my young days 
 for my neat foot and leg. I dinna think they 
 dance as weel now as they did thirty years syne. 
 But, Hector, that's enou' and mair than enou' o' 
 this foolishness. What is to be done now anent 
 thae bill and papers ? "
 
 40 THE LAST OF THE MACALLISTERS. 
 
 " Let sleeping dogs lie, Fraser. Maybe they 
 won't trouble us again in that fashion. Father 
 and Angus are so proud and happy ; let us hope 
 for the best." 
 
 " A vera pretty slogan, lad, but wha is to pay 
 the piper that plays it ? When you speak that 
 way, ye have not thought o' the charges now 
 hanging o'er the heads o' Angus and Ewen." 
 
 " What charges ? '' 
 
 " Just highway robbery, and no less ; besides 
 the crime o' hindering and obstructing the king's 
 messengers on the king's highway. They wad 
 hae made an act o' treason not many years syne, 
 and it will bean affair o' the hulks or the planta- 
 tions if it comes to trial. I'm doubting we are 
 all in a bad box." 
 
 " Oh, Fraser, whatever must be done ? " 
 
 " I must e'en gae my ways to Perth as fast as 
 four legs can carry me, and see if the money and 
 the expenses and a gude bit o' humble pie will 
 put things right. Angus must be got out o' the 
 way till there's a dead surety on the condona- 
 tion. It is a meeserable ending o' all the hurly- 
 burly o' last night, but I hae seen whole towns 
 lose their senses in the same way — fire cannons, 
 ring bells, light bonfires, and then wake up and
 
 THE CHIEF'S TRIUMPH. 4 1 
 
 find they had only been dreaming o' victory." 
 " Fraser, let me go with you to Perth. I ought 
 to eat my own share of this humble pie, and I 
 should be sorry." 
 
 " Never be sorry, Hector. To speak in your 
 ear lad, I wouldna hae missed last night for half 
 my bank-book. I was young again for just five 
 hours — I was young again. I have not steppet 
 in yonder reel since the night I danced it wi' 
 bonnie Bessie Ballantyne, when the great Duke 
 o' Gordon opened the ball o' the clans at Inver- 
 ness. But put your bonnet on your head and 
 Avalk beside my powny a mile or twa, I haemair 
 to talk about than bonnie lasses and foursome 
 reels."
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 ASSYNT AND GRACE CAMERON. 
 
 ' The light of love, the purity of grace, 
 The mind, the music breathing from her face 
 The heart whose softness harmonized the whole." 
 
 After the feast comes the reckoning, and un- 
 fortunately, none of the revellers in this case had 
 calculated beforehand the cost of their entertain- 
 ment. Fraser was counting it, with a very grim 
 face, as he and Hector went silently down the 
 mountain. But by the time they had reached 
 the strath, and could converse, he had accepted 
 the bill, and made up his mind to pay it as cheer- 
 fully as possible. 
 
 " Onyvvay, we had a gran' time yestreen. Hec- 
 tor,'' he said, with a suppressed chuckle, "and 
 I'm no grudging the payment of it — just ance in 
 a lifetime. If deacon Davie Strang could hae 
 seen me ! He wad ca' a kirk session, if, indeed, 
 he believed his ain een ! " 
 
 " Yes, we had a grand time, Fraser; and when 
 Allister played ' Carle now the king's come ! ' I 
 could scarcely keep my dirk in my belt." 
 (42)
 
 ASSYNT AND GRACE CAMERON. 43 
 
 "A' of US forgot we were sworn Whiggers. I 
 am glad the Stuarts are o'er the water ; but what 
 if they should come back, Hector?" 
 
 " We should e'en pin on the white cockade and 
 cry Claymore ! for Charlie ! " 
 
 " But why are we talking in this daftlike way ? 
 It is anent money and sheriff's doings we ought 
 to be caring this morning, for, to tell you the 
 truth, I dinna see our way clearly out of this 
 writ-burning business." 
 
 " But you can go and pay the bill, and you 
 need not know anything about the burning." 
 
 " I'm no the lad to tell on mysel', and they'll 
 hae to prove the personality o' Angus and Ewen, 
 and to do that they'll hae to put eyes on them 
 again. There are few laws Andrew Fraser canna 
 find a way through ; but I'm feared, I'm feared, 
 Hector lad, that there is no way to avoid ex- 
 penses. Just bills I'm aye for paying, but ex- 
 penses on them is anither kind o' thing. How- 
 ever, I shall do my best, and you must speak wi' 
 the laird about thae MacGunns and their land." 
 " They want really to go to Canada ? " 
 " 'Deed do they. They are daft to go. There 
 is naebody to fight wi' here now, and they hae 
 heard tell o' the big woods full o' game and In-
 
 44 THE LAST OF THE MACALL1STER8. 
 
 dians. It's the Indians that pleases them, nae 
 doubt o' that. There will be some braw fights 
 atween them, if they only get there," 
 
 "And the Sinclairs will buy the land from 
 us?" 
 
 " That will they, and glad to do it ; they are 
 getting folk, thae Sinclairs," 
 
 "And with this money you propose — " 
 
 " To send the MacGunns where they want to 
 go, and help the MacAllisters to start as drovers 
 and fishers. Why does your father want a big 
 tail after him now ? He cannot take eight hun- 
 dred men and go into Moray's land or Argyle's 
 land, and drive hame cattle and wheat for them 
 in these times. He can't pick a quarrel now wi' 
 a neighbor that has aught he wants, and then go 
 and harry him out o' it, Thae days are gane 
 forever. The men themsel's are tired of doing 
 nothing, and having nothing they'll be glad to 
 pick up their own living, and you'll gie them a 
 start," 
 
 " I will say all this to my father, perhaps he 
 may listen." 
 
 " Whiles he will listen, and then whiles he 
 won't listen, but keep aye at it. Facts are stub- 
 born things, and they will win a hearing, sooner
 
 ASSYNT AND GRACE CAMERON 45 
 
 or later. Now you may gang back ; my pony 
 has warmed to his v/ork, and I'll mak him show 
 his best shoes to-day." 
 
 " You will send us word as soon as possible ? " 
 
 " You will hear from me afore long, and my 
 advice is, till you do so, keep Angus where he 
 can be neither seen nor heard of" 
 
 How to do this thing was now the subject of 
 Hector's anxious dehberation, as he took the 
 homeward road again. There was no use in try- 
 ing to alarm Angus ; danger of any kind had an 
 irresistible charm to the lad, and he was so 
 contrary that it was impossible to tell whether 
 he would oppose or accept any proposition. 
 Naturally, Hector's thoughts reverted to the 
 strange woman, who, on the previous evening, 
 had spoken so confidently of helping Angus if 
 he were in danger. Obviously, it would be wise 
 to apply to her, and Hector rather liked the 
 alternative ; for she was wondrously lovely, and 
 he quite lost the thread of his thoughts as he 
 tried to recall the clear, pale, oval face, and the 
 clear, dark eyes lighting it up. 
 
 Just at this point in his reverie he reached the 
 little plateau where he had seen her, and there, 
 to his amazement, he found his father, who was
 
 4^ THE LAST OF THE MACALLISTERS. 
 
 walking under the trees with two strange men, 
 and Angus, who was sitting on the grass beside 
 the very woman whose beauty he had been 
 dreaming about. 
 
 For a moment he thought of avoiding the 
 party, but Hector's nature was thoroughly 
 straightforward, and, finding no good reason for 
 such a course he went forward to meet the laird. 
 There was a soft and pleasant expression on his 
 face, and he was talking almost confidentially to 
 the men who walked one on each side of him. 
 They were men of very unusual appearance, and 
 Hector did not wonder that Fraser should re- 
 member them for more than twenty years, and 
 feel anxious as to their good or bad feelings to- 
 wards the MacAllister. 
 
 They were not gentlemen in the ordinary 
 sense of the word, but they wore good clothes, 
 and had that unmistakable air of being quite at 
 ease about money which can never be assumed 
 nor mistaken. Their whole appearance was 
 rather that of foreigners ; no Scot or Englishmen 
 ever had such flashing eyes, such lithe forms, 
 such bronze skins. Their manners also had the 
 perfect freedom and ease and indifference of men 
 who serve not.
 
 ASSYNT AND GRACE CAMERON. 47 
 
 For a moment the laird looked slightly em- 
 barrassed by Hector's approach, but only for a 
 moment. " This is my eldest son, laird Hector," 
 he said, proudly ; "and, Hector, these gentlemen 
 are two very dear and near friends of mine — 
 Jasper and Carruple Gordon." 
 
 Both men raised their bonnets courteously to 
 Hector, and one of them answered, with a know- 
 ing smile, " I have seen young MacAllister before, 
 and he will remember me if he will think of the 
 Grassmarket in Edinburgh." 
 
 "Why, yes, certainly; you are the — the — " 
 
 " The gypsy who prevented your throwing 
 away two hundred pounds on a worthless 
 horse." 
 
 " And who sold me Roderick!" 
 
 The man nodded pleasantly as he said, " A fine 
 horse, Laird. Such a one to bend his knees and 
 tuck his haunches in ! He has an eye like a 
 hawk and a foot like a stag ! Bone, blood, 
 wind, speed, bottom, and can jump everything 
 right and left ? will you sell him again ? " 
 
 " Not for gold." 
 
 " Good ! Never keep a horse you don't like, 
 and never part with one that suits you."
 
 48 fHE LAST OF THE MACALLISTERS. 
 
 " Will you come up to the castle and see him 
 again? " 
 
 " No ; I won't trust myself. I should want 
 him if I saw him. You may happen to trust a 
 cat with cream, but never trust the Romany lad 
 with a fine horse." 
 
 Then Carruple Gordon and MacAllister joined 
 them, and the latter said, rather wearily, " Come, 
 Hector, let us back to Strathleven. I am not 
 used to dancing all night, and our friends are 
 going to the camp of their people at Cuchally." 
 
 Hector was very anxious that Angus should 
 accompany them, for he wished to talk with him 
 regarding the position he was in and the pen- 
 alties he had incurred ; but Angus insisted 
 on remaining with one of his new-found friends, 
 and there was something so charmingly wilful 
 about the handsome youth that, as usual, he 
 was permitted to follow his inclinations. The 
 laird indeed, looked dubiously at him, for it was 
 easy to see that Angus was thoroughly under 
 the spell of the beautiful Isabel Gordon ; but 
 almost immediately his face softened, and with a 
 sigh he turned away and walked thoughtfully up 
 the mountain. 
 
 Towards the top of the ascent he leaned
 
 ASSYNT AND GRACE CAMERON 49 
 
 heavily on his son's shoulder, and said he was 
 tired. " I hae had a hard week, Hector, what 
 wi' knocking about the forest, leaping bogs, and 
 climbing hills, no to speak o' the anger, and the 
 anxiety, and the dancing last night. Then the 
 meeting o' this morning! It's the heart holds 
 up the body, lad, and my heart is wearifu' and 
 sorrowfu' this morning." 
 
 " If it is this Perth business, father — " 
 " It is nothing of the sort, son Hector. Do 
 you think I would let the tear fall for a' the men- 
 folk in Scotland ? " 
 
 And Hector saw with surprise and concern 
 that his father's clear blue eyes were heavy with 
 tears that he found it impossible to repress, 
 
 A woman might then have said those gentle, 
 cooing, comforting words which men love to 
 listen to from them ; but Hector could not offer 
 sympathy of this kind. He only leaned silently 
 over the castle wall beside his father, and waited 
 with a watchful patience for the first opportunity 
 to fall into whatever mood the laird himself 
 would choose. 
 
 And he was too impulsive to be long silent, 
 though his first words were a sort of apology. 
 " It is long, long since I buried this sorrow," he 
 4
 
 50 THE LA&T OF TUE MACALLISTERS. 
 
 said, "and I never thought to weep about it 
 again; but the sight o' yonder men and of that 
 bonnie lassie — did you notice her, Hector?" 
 
 "I did, father." 
 
 "Who does she put you in mind of?" 
 
 " My mother." 
 
 " But she is not half so beautiful as your 
 mother was. Come wi' me, son Hector, and I'll 
 prove that to you." 
 
 So Hector followed his father up the wide 
 oaken stairs of the castle to the closed door, that 
 had been from his bairnhood such a gate of 
 tears and love and piiy to him. Possibly the 
 laird had passed beyond it much more frequently 
 than his household suspected, for the key turned 
 easily, and there was little of that forlorn, death- 
 like atmosphere which always clings to rooms 
 absolutely closed and deserted. 
 
 He turned back the shutters, and the pleasant 
 sunshine flooded the pretty chamber. That 
 nameless charm which a woman's clothing and 
 pretty trifles give to any apartment was the 
 special interest of this room. A robe of change- 
 able silk lay across a chair, a pair of tiny scarlet 
 slippers stood at the foot of the bed, ribbons, a 
 satin kerchief, a bit of needlework, some jewelry,
 
 ASSYNT ANB GRACE CAMERON 51 
 
 and a pair of gloves were the first objects Hec- 
 tor saw on entering the room. 
 
 Its main treasure was, however, a fine picture, 
 a picture of a dense forest scene, and a beautiful 
 woman standing clearly out from its green 
 depths. The face was well remembered by 
 Hector. It had bent to kiss him often ; and 
 those small, shapely hands ! he almost felt again 
 their light, caressing, lingering touch. Both 
 men looked at it silently ; there seemed to be no 
 words fitting until tears had washed away the 
 silent reserve of years. 
 
 "You are a man now. Hector, and maybe you 
 can understand how dearly I loved that woman ? " 
 
 " I think I can father, I am sure I loved her. 
 I can remember yet how I wept after she left us. 
 I have never forgotten my mother, I have seen 
 no other woman half so good and beautiful." 
 
 "And yet she was not your mother. Hector, 
 though she loved you, and did well a mother's 
 part by you," 
 
 "Ah, dear father, do not tell me that. You 
 rob me of the sweetest memory I have." 
 
 " Nay, nay, you may keep the memory, you 
 knew no other mother, for the one who ga\c 
 you birth died ere you could know her. She
 
 52 THE LAST OF THE MACA LUSTERS. 
 
 was a Gordon also, Hector, but no a gypsy Gor- 
 don. She was a gran lady, ain sister to the 
 duke, and folks said the MacAllister did a great 
 thing when he won her. Bonnie and good she 
 was, and I loved her — after a kind. 
 
 " But we were not long married ere she died, 
 and some matters about her dowry took me the 
 next summer to see her km at Gordon Castle. 
 One day something happened that made me 
 angry enough wi' my brother-in-law, and maybe 
 I was in one of my vera warst tempers riding 
 that night through Gordon woods. 
 
 " When I came to a certain place in the road 
 my horse wouldna pass it. There was nothing 
 that I could see or hear to cause this terror, and 
 af er trying words in vain, I struck him blindly 
 and madly. Suddenly some one seized my arm, 
 and in eager, passionate tones said, ' Do not 
 strike the poor creature because he sees, where 
 you are blind ! ' 
 
 " Before I could speak or rally from my amaze- 
 ment, I saw the loveliest woman standing by the 
 trembling brute's head, soothing and talking to 
 him. What she said I could not understand, but 
 she stroked and petted him until I declare to 
 you, Hector, I believe he was sobbing like a child.
 
 A8SYNT AND GRACE CAMERON. 53 
 
 Queer words they were, but the horse under- 
 stood them, and I knew after that they were in 
 the Romany tongue. 
 
 " I was that ashamed o' myself, and that 
 astonished at the girl's beauty, that I submitted 
 to her directions at once, and took the creature 
 home another way. That was the beginning, 
 Hector, and she soon loved me so well that she 
 gave up her own life and people and I made her 
 my wife. She was not clever, nor rich, nor a 
 born lady, but she was a sweet, loving woman, 
 and her smile, or her touch, or just the rustle of 
 her gown, was a happiness to me." 
 
 "And the men you were talking with to-day 
 were her brothers ? " 
 
 " They were her brothers." 
 
 "And Isabel?" 
 
 " Is Carruple Gordon's daughter." 
 
 " Our own cousin ?" 
 
 " She is cousin to Angus. Now you see how 
 the dear lad comes by his wild, reckless, roving 
 nature." 
 
 "And his great beauty also." 
 
 " Yes, beauty is birthright." 
 
 " Suppose he should fall in love with Isabel, 
 what then, my father ? "
 
 54 THE LAST OF THE 3fACALLTSTERS. 
 
 " He must marry her. We needna look to 
 marriage to noble us. We may wed wherever 
 our hearts list; the MacAllisters are great 
 enough to lift the lass they love to their own 
 level. Angus's mother had noble Romany blood 
 in her veins ; they thought it as good as high- 
 land blood ; I would like to hear any one say it 
 isn't. The Gordon's didna approve o' me tak- 
 ing her to wife in place o' a lady o' their ain 
 great house, and we had words about it, but 
 there was never a Gordon o' them that should 
 tell the Chief o' MacAllister what woman he 
 should marry." 
 
 " Father, you have spoken of this matter in a 
 good time, for I have something to say to you 
 about the lad so dear to both of us," 
 
 Then Hector went carefully over the fears of 
 Fraser regarding the position in which Angus 
 had placed himself by his high handed con- 
 tempt of the law ; and finding the laird easily 
 alarmed, and disposed to be anxious about his 
 younger son, he gradually led the conversation 
 to the advantages of a union between Angus and 
 Grace Cameron. 
 
 But the laird did not look at the matter as 
 Hector did. "Angus," he said, " would, indeed,
 
 A SSYJVT A ND GRA CE CA MERON. 5 5 
 
 have no land and but little money, but he could 
 live by his sword, as many a man of his race had 
 done; and as for marrying the girl he didnalike 
 for her tocher, or leaving the one he did like be- 
 cause she had no tocher, that was a thing the 
 M a cAl listers had never done, and never would 
 do, please the Power above them all." 
 
 Upon the whole, the conversation was not 
 satisfactory as it regarded Angus, nor in any sub- 
 sequent one was Hector able greatly to influence 
 his father, either in respect to his brother or the 
 clansmen. The laird was very averse to meet- 
 ing trouble, and he thought that when he heard 
 from Fraser it would be time enough to take so 
 distasteful a subject into consideration. 
 
 And day after day passed and there was no 
 word. Angus was dreaming them away in the 
 little camp in the fir wood, or else he was absent 
 on short, mysterious journeys with one or other 
 of his gypsy uncles, and it was evident that he 
 was completely under the spell of Isabel Gor- 
 don's great beauty. 
 
 At length, in the warm days of August, a mes- 
 senger came from Fraser with very perplexing 
 news. He had hitherto failed in staying the 
 civil process already commenced against the
 
 5 6 THE LAST OF THE MA CALL IS TERS. 
 
 chief of the MacAllister clan, and a warrant had 
 been issued for the arrest of laird Angus Mac- 
 Allister and of Ewen MacAllister as the suspected 
 perpetrators of the robbery and outrage on the 
 king's messengers. 
 
 In a private letter to Hector, Fraser held out 
 one hope, and he begged that in such an ex- 
 tremity pride might be put to the wa'. He had 
 found out that John Cameron, of Assynt, was 
 the power behind the Perth directors. "And you 
 must just gang your ways and ' whilliwha' this 
 new laird, Hector. Say that you hae to bow 
 and beck a bit, a man's bonnet in his hand never 
 did him harm,andyoukenweelImusttrust toyou 
 in this matter, for the MacAllister will neither 
 do what I think right, nor tak what he thinks 
 wrong." 
 
 MacAllister took the situation, indeed, with real 
 or with affected indifference. " I have fixed my 
 plans," he said, " and I am going to Golspie Linn 
 to catch grilse. They are in prime season now, 
 and some o' Clan Chattan have trysted me there. 
 It's no likely that I'll disappoint a party o' 
 highland gentleman for a wheen, peddling, pet- 
 tifogging writer bodies. No ; I'm in my ain 
 country, and they that come seeking me there
 
 ASSYNT AND GRACE CAMERON. $7 
 
 without any invite will just come at their ain 
 risk and charge." 
 
 " But Angus, father, Angus ? What is to be 
 done with him ? Fraser says that there are 
 plenty in Perth who call what he has done trea- 
 son against King George." 
 
 "That for King George ! '' said the old chief, 
 snapping his fingers in a passion of defiance ; 
 and dinna ye fret about Angus. " They'll hae 
 to catch the lad afore they can do aught to him, 
 and I wish them joy o' their chase after Angus 
 MacAllister ! " 
 
 " Father, I entreat you don't encourage Angus 
 in defying the law any further; the day of reck- 
 oning is sure to come sooner or later." 
 
 "Much obliged to you, Maister Hector Mac- 
 Allister for your civil advice," answered the 
 laird, in a furious temper ; " if Angus has done 
 aught against the law he did it in my behalf I'll 
 never be the one to ask him bend his head to 
 either king or kaiser. If wrang he has done, 
 he'll stand by the wrang, and I'll stand by him. 
 Yes will I, though the heavens fall for it ! " 
 
 The last words were uttered with an intona- 
 tion and force that forbade any reply to them. 
 Hector went silently and wrathfully away, and
 
 58 THE LAST OF THE MACALirSTERs! 
 
 the laird, after a promiscuous abuse of laws and 
 law-makers, new times and^ new-fangled gentle- 
 men, called for his gillies in a voice which brought 
 them very promptly around him. 
 
 " You'll all o' ye meet me in Glen Linn within 
 four hours. You'll forget naething we may want 
 for two, and may be four weeks' stay. We are 
 going to meet gentlemen, and you'll see I hae 
 a proper tail after me, pipers, and henchmen, 
 and a'." 
 
 Then he went to his desk, put some gold in 
 his sporran, and walked rapidly down the hill 
 towards the fir wood. Hector was too angry to 
 attempt to stop him again ; he had not the least 
 hope in any further reasoning, and he knew that 
 he was going to warn Angus. Equally sure was 
 he that nothing he could now say would have 
 any effect upon the unruly youth ; he would 
 take his own way, and be aided and abetted in it 
 both by his father and his gypsy kinsmen. 
 
 The embassy Fraser had set Hector was a 
 bitterly mortifying one to the proud young high- 
 land chief To make Cameron's acquaintance 
 through asking a favor of him — to confess his 
 father's pecuniary embarrassments — to make 
 apologies for his brave, handsome brother — to
 
 ASSYNT AND GRACE CAMERON. $9 
 
 be either denied his request or to be put under 
 an obligation — every light in which Hector re- 
 garded his mission was painful and humiliating. 
 
 " I shall acknowledge the debt and ask the 
 favor concerning Angus. If I succeed, that will 
 be well enough, and if not, no harm is done 
 save to my own pride, and — I'll promise it full 
 payment if Cameron runs in debt to me that 
 way. Yes ; I should pay a claim of that kind, 
 I feel I should, to— the— last— tittle ! " His face 
 was dark and angry even at the supposition, and 
 it was easy to see that the education and polish 
 of modern life might, under certain circum- 
 stances, be quite unable to control his inherited 
 nature. 
 
 He dressed himself for his visit to Assynt with 
 an unusual care, for he had lived enough in 
 fashionable life to be aware of the importance 
 attached to a good appearance. Few of his 
 countrymen were good horsemen, but Hector 
 was an exception to this rule, and as the road, 
 after the mountain descent, was practicable for 
 such a mode of travel, he determined to adopt 
 it. 
 
 Assynt Castle was about ten miles distant, but 
 the days were long ; and even if Cameron should
 
 6o TEE LAST OF THE 3IACA LUSTERS. 
 
 be SO inhospitable as not to offer him a night's 
 rest, he could return to Strathleven without any 
 effort. So he ordered his gilly to lead his horse 
 down the mountain and wait for him in the 
 clachan below, for he had an eager desire to 
 see the laird and Angus again, and he expected 
 to find them in the fir wood ; but when he ar- 
 rived there the ashes of the extinguished camp- 
 fire were all that was left of the late happy party. 
 Of neither his father nor his brother, nor the 
 Gordons, was there a single token. 
 
 He was so anxious and disappointed that even 
 the ride through the cool glens, and over the 
 smooth, hard sands of the seashore, failed to 
 restore his spirits. He knew the situation of 
 Assynt Castle, though he had not been there for 
 many years ; and as its gray, square walls 
 came in sight he began to recall its grim aspect, 
 and the bare old courtyard, in which so many 
 wild gatherings and fierce fights had taken place. 
 
 For a moment a shadow of regret for the 
 old times crossed Hector's mind. " Thirty 
 years ago," he thought, " any MacAUister would 
 have shamed to go the road I take to-day. They 
 would have asked no man's favor, and sorted the 
 law with their own hand. I wish — no, no ; what
 
 ASSYNT AND GRACE CA3IER0N. 6 1 
 
 am I saying ? Any man can fight ; there are 
 nobler things than dirks and brute force." And 
 yet the shadow of regret remained, for though 
 reason may assure, it often fails to comfort. 
 
 How great a change was slowly stealing into 
 the highlands, Assynt, under its new lowland 
 master, showed him that hour. The great bare 
 court had become a wondrous garden. Beds 
 of August lillies, of heliotrope, and geraniums 
 filled the sens :s with beauty and perfume. 
 " This is better than the shouting of men and the 
 clash of broadswords ; yes, it is better," he 
 said, with a positiveness that still had a shade 
 of sorrow in it ; and then he dismounted, for he 
 had reached the entrance to the castle, and a 
 groom stood waiting to take his horse. 
 
 Anxious as he was, Hector still noticed wilh 
 satisfaction that the fine old hall had been re- 
 furnished in excellent taste. The old Assynt 
 flags of battle, the battered shields, and glori- 
 ous flags of hard-won fields still adorned the 
 walls, though they were artistically blended with 
 fine paintings of chase and war. The heavy 
 oaken furniture, the soft mats, and the stand of 
 gorgeous flowers were no incongruities in the 
 young laird's eyes. He had not studied epoclis
 
 62 THE LAST OF THE MACALLISTERS. 
 
 with regard to household matters, and they 
 pleasantly united the romance of the past with 
 the comfort and elegance of modern taste. 
 
 He had scarcely time to notice these things 
 when he saw Cameron coming to meet him. 
 Generally Hector was deferentially polite and 
 non-asserting with men older than himself, but 
 he was conscious that in approaching the master 
 of Assynt he unavoidably carried himself with a 
 hauteur very much at variance with his nature. 
 The mood was perhaps the natural one of a 
 proud spirit resenting an office it disliked, or it 
 might be the armor of one who enters a conflict 
 of which it knew none of the conditions. 
 
 Cameron met him with outstretched hand and 
 a very pleasant warmth of manner, " MacAllis- 
 ter, I am glad to see you. I know you by sight 
 and by reputation, and I am glad, very glad to 
 shake your hand, Laird." 
 
 " Cameron, I am sorry that it is a selfish 
 rather than a courteous reason which has brought 
 me to Assynt. I am come to ask a favor of 
 you." 
 
 "All the same, you are welcome, Laird; the 
 more welcome if I can do anything to pleasure 
 you."
 
 ASSYNT AND GRACE CAMERON. ^l 
 
 But Hector saw that, in spite of the fair words, 
 the old merchant's face settled into cautious 
 curves, and he determined to state his business 
 at once, before the new laird wasted compliments 
 which he might afterwards regret. So without 
 preface he entered at once into the particulars 
 of his father's trouble with the Perth Bank and 
 Angus's boyish, ill-advised interference with 
 the messengers of the law. 
 
 Cameron listened carefully to Hector's story. 
 He never interrupted it by question or remark, 
 and when it was finished sat silent and thought- 
 ful for some moments. Indeed, Hector's tem- 
 per was rapidly rising, and he was on the point 
 of abruptly terminating the interview, when 
 Cameron's face cleared like a flash of light, and 
 he said, cheerfully, " Well, MacAUister, I'll take 
 a short session with myself concerning these 
 matters. I am not prepared to speak now. We 
 will have something to eat and drink, and you 
 shall go to your room and rest; after dinner I 
 will tell you what can be done." 
 
 " At your time, Cameron ; I can find my way 
 to Strathleven as well by night as by day." 
 
 '• No need to ride at night. You say the laird 
 a;"id your brotb-cr are gone to Golspie; you have
 
 64 THE LAST OF THE MACALLISTERS. 
 
 no company at Strathleven, and I have none at 
 Assynt ; we may as well make the best of each 
 other for a few days, I think." 
 
 But Hector, in spite of Cameron's courtesy, 
 knew that his stay must depend on the answer 
 to his request. If it were refused he should 
 leave Assynt at once ; and even if it were 
 granted, he was afraid that the sense of obliga- 
 tion would be a strain on his good-temper which 
 he would not care to push too far. In fact. Hec- 
 tor knew that he was already in a bad temper, 
 and that the chances were it would become 
 worse. 
 
 The frequent resort to the gold snuff-box he 
 carried in his hand was a symptom of very great 
 agitation in Hector, though, as his servant Roy 
 mentally commented, " It wad hae been ta dirk 
 as weel as ta mull that Laird Angus wad hae 
 been fingering." Still, so complex are our stern- 
 est feelings, chat it is hard sometimes to separate 
 the most tragic from the most commonplace, 
 and it is certain that not a little of Hector's an- 
 noyance arose from the fact that he had forgot- 
 ten to tell Roy to bring his dress suit. In fine 
 cloth, rich laces, silk hose, and diamond buckles,
 
 ASSYNT AND GRACE CAMERON. 65 
 
 he felt that he could take a favor more compla- 
 cently. 
 
 Such a little thing turns the weathercock of 
 our feelings. Hector glanced at his servant and 
 saw him busily plaiting his best laces, while his 
 satin vest and finest suit lay ready to put on. 
 Hector was now disposed to look upon life as at 
 least possible ; an hour afterwards, when Roy 
 had carefully dressed him, he had gained a con- 
 fidence and calm satisfaction which had quite 
 restored his self-control. 
 
 Cameron was astonished and pleased when he 
 saw the young chieftain. Hector had unwit- 
 tingly paid him the most delicate of compli- 
 ments, for if the new laird had a very weak 
 point, it was a love of that ceremony and defer- 
 ence to appearances which acknowledged the 
 high social position he had won. His own suit 
 of rich black velvet set off admirably his strong 
 face and snow-white hair ; but such is the influ- 
 ence of a fine personal presence, that Cameron 
 acknowledged at once, in his own heart, the 
 superior dignity of the native-born lord of the 
 soil. 
 
 He looked with keen pride and pleasure at 
 the handsome young man, and in that moment 
 5
 
 66 THE LAST OF THE MACALLISTERS. 
 
 there sprung up a design to marry him to his 
 only child, and endow him, as his adopted son, 
 with all the lands of Assynt. This thought 
 was in his mind as he led Hector up to his 
 daughter. And Hector had not been indifferent 
 or oblivious of this probable meeting ; a presen- 
 timent of its approach had been an influence in 
 all his toilet anxieties, and he had more than 
 once tried to recall all that Fraser had said 
 about the heiress of Assynt. 
 
 But he had failed completely in all his imagi- 
 nations. Grace Cameron was unlike anything 
 that his fancy had pictured her. She was neither 
 a hoyden, nor a spoiled child, nor a young lady 
 full of the importance of a new position; she 
 was simply the very lily of a dainty, highly- 
 nurtured maidenhood. Her dress was a frock 
 of white silk, tinted with a minute trailing vine, 
 a pelerine of softest India mull, with knots of 
 pale blue satin, long gloves of exq^iisite fit and 
 workmanship and a little French fan, which she 
 used with a great deal of quiet, ladylike grace. 
 
 These details Hector took in at a glance, and 
 then, as Cameron named his daughter, he looked 
 into her face. It more than justified her toilet 
 — it was fresh, delicate, and bright, just shad-
 
 ASSFNT AND GRACE CAMERON. 6/ 
 
 owed by the loose, soft curls that lay upon her 
 brow, and nobly finished by a mass of pale brown 
 hair, fastened on the crown by a golden comb 
 richly jewelled. She had been accustomed from 
 childhood to polite society, and, without being 
 clever enough to alarm men, she was witty and 
 well-informed. Taught to keep all her likings 
 in thorough control, if she had a " ruling one " 
 it was a very innocent devotion to flowers ; and 
 Hector soon found himself before a stand of 
 gorgeous fuchsias, listening with a strange de- 
 light to her pretty praises of them, and watching 
 with still greater admiration her fair face, low 
 bent among their dark green leaves and crimson 
 bells. 
 
 To Cameron these two handsome figures, 
 swaying and bending towards each other, touch- 
 ing hands amid the flowers, and changing smiles 
 and thoughts with low laughter, was the pleas- 
 antest sight he had seen in all the sixty years he 
 could remember. When dinner was served he 
 led the way, but it was delightful to turn around 
 and see Hector daintily holding Grace's gloved 
 fingers, and leading her slowly down the wide 
 stairway, full of the yellow glory of the setting
 
 68 THE LAST OF THE MA CA LEISTERS. 
 
 Through all the eating and drinking, the soft 
 laughter, and the merry talk, John Cameron was 
 turning over and over one single thought— 
 the suitableness of a marriage between Grace 
 and Hector. And there was really nothing sel- 
 fish in his scheme ; he had taken a sudden and 
 warm liking for the young laird, but Hector's 
 handsome face and stately manners had touched 
 Cameron's fancy quite as much as his ancestral 
 acres or his ancient pedigree.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 LAIRD ANGUS AND A HORSE-TRADE. 
 
 " A proper man, as one shall see in a summer's day." 
 
 " The boy hath sold him a bargain ; a goose, that's flat." 
 
 "A child of our Grandmother Eve— or for thy more 
 sweet understanding, a woman." 
 
 Cameron, though capable of indulging a ro- 
 mantic liking, was by no means reckless as to 
 what concerned the real welfare of those whom 
 he loved. When Grace had left the two men 
 ajor.e over their cups, he resumed at once the 
 biisiness which had brought Hector to Assynt. 
 
 " I have sent a swift messenger to Perth two 
 hours ago, MacAllister," he said. "The bank 
 has acted in a way which I regret exceedingly. 
 I have also advised Lawyer Fraser to pay the 
 principal and interest due as soon as convenient 
 to him. As for expenses, I think those who 
 made all this hubbub must pay for it. The old 
 directors would never have dreamed of forcing the 
 MacAllister to pay an account, but new brooms 
 try to make cleaner sweeping than is needful." 
 
 (69)
 
 70 THE LAST OF THE MACALLISTERS. 
 
 " You have done us a great kindness, Came- 
 ron, and we shall not forget it." 
 
 " Tut, tut ! nothing at all ; you would have 
 done as much for any kindly neighbor. Now, 
 as to that foolish-like business of your brother's, 
 my advice is this. In a few weeks let Angus 
 and Ewen show themselves in Perth. I shall 
 have had speech with the men who accuse them 
 in the meantime, and have made them under- 
 stand that it will be best for them if the matter 
 go no further, or, if they are called upon to tes- 
 tify, to be very particular in identifying. All of 
 the men are known to be o'er-fond of Glenlivet, 
 and, what with whiskey and weariness, I should 
 doubt myself, if I had not heard your confession 
 of it, whether they had not dreamed the whole 
 story. Now let us dismiss the subject for the 
 present ; I dare say Grace will give us a cup of 
 tea and a song if we join her." 
 
 Under ordinary circumstances Hector would 
 have preferred his glass of burgundy to the Chi- 
 nese herb, for which he cared little. When he 
 saw Grace fingering the frail, egg-shell china 
 cups, he felt that whatever he drank out of them 
 must be delicious. Her charming seriousness 
 about the pretty, womanly business was so de-
 
 LAIRD ANGUS AND A IJOUSE-TRADE. /I 
 
 lightful, that he heard only as a man in a dream 
 hears the conversation which he felt himself 
 compelled to keep up with his host. 
 
 Fortunately, in song, the young people found 
 a subject which made them at once sympathetic. 
 Cameron watched them turning over the leaves 
 of Grace's music, and heard with a sense of con- 
 tent and delight their fresh young voices ming- 
 Hng in many a wild, pathetic strain. He had 
 been accustomed to plan all his life, and little ac- 
 customed to see his plans fail, but he wisely 
 enough told himself to-night that his present 
 project took a woman into its conditions, and 
 that therefore any hour might produce situations 
 for which no possible provision could be made 
 beforehand. " And though Grace is my daugh- 
 ter," he thought, " I may as well admit that she 
 likes her own way, and is very apt to get it, 
 sooner or later. Yes, yes, that is natural ; she 
 comes fair enough by that bent ; it is a good 
 thing in a man, but in a woman it is trouble- 
 some." 
 
 However, there was no need to seek trouble 
 beforehand, and certainly present signs were as 
 favorable as he could desire. Grace looked un- 
 usually lovely and happy, and Hector was —
 
 T2 THE LAST OF THE MACA LUSTERS. 
 
 well, Cameron hardly saw how any girl could 
 help admiring Hector. And then, Hector's land 
 lay so snug to Assynt, it would be a shame not 
 to unite them. 
 
 Of course, these were the natural thoughts of 
 an old man who had made money, and who knew 
 its value ; but it must be admitted that even in 
 Hector's heart they were not absent. True, he 
 scorned to recognize them, and indignantly up- 
 braided himself when he found his mind inadver- 
 tently calculating the sum of the united acres ; 
 but, nevertheless, he knew that he nursed the 
 dream of a rich Grace Cameron as he never 
 would have done that of a poor one. Not that 
 this was his ruling motive — he would have found 
 it hard to resist Grace's rare beauty and culture 
 under any circumstances, but still it was pleasant 
 to feel that there was no need to resist it, and 
 that both his inclinations and his interests would 
 be satisfied in her. 
 
 It was singular that into the thoughts of 
 neither father nor lover entered any fear of fail- 
 ure. As for Cameron, that was a conclusion he 
 never admitted, and Hector was of the same tem- 
 per. Waiting and wooing there might be, but 
 he felt that in order to win Grace he would be
 
 LAIRD ANGUS AND A HORSE-TRADE. 73 
 
 willing to strive with things impossible ; and to 
 strive, in Hector's code, was to win. He be- 
 lieved in no other result. 
 
 Perhaps his confidence might have been 
 shaken a little if he had heard the conversation 
 in Miss Cameron's room that night as Grace sat 
 before her mirror, and Christina, her maid 
 unbound and brushed the young lady's pale- 
 gold hair. 
 
 " Did you see our visitor, Christina ? '' 
 
 " 'Deed did I, Miss Grace." 
 
 " Is he not a splendid-looking Highland gen- 
 tleman ? " 
 
 " Maybe ; maybe no. Wise folk dinna 
 measure men by their inches." 
 
 " But he has the most elegant manners, and I 
 am sure he has a good heart also." 
 
 " The heart is beyond kenning. Miss Grace. 
 Manners I hae nae skill o' ; but his lace ruffiings 
 were unco bonnie !" 
 
 " Christina, you are cross. I ask you about a 
 man, and you praise his lace ruffles ! You know 
 very well that young MacAllister is wonderfully 
 handsome." 
 
 " He is nae haf sae bonnie, nor half sae brave, 
 nor half sae gude as the Laird Angus. I would
 
 74 THE LAST OF THE MACALLISTERS. 
 
 na j^ie a nod o' I.aird Angus's head for a' the 
 city airs o' this young chief — nae mair wad ony 
 o' their ain people ; and I'm thinking the folks 
 who hae lived wi' them a' their born days ken 
 which is the bonniest and the best o' the twa." 
 
 Grace sat thoughtfully fingering a little gold 
 bracelet for some minutes, and then said, " Do 
 you know Lord Angus, Christina?" 
 
 " It's no hard to know him ! There is na a 
 shepherd on the hills nor a fisher on the coast 
 that has na shared their cake and porridge wi' 
 Laird Angus. Laird Angus is ay doing some- 
 body a gude turn. He took the end o' his shoot- 
 ing-piece to the black Laird o' Urquehart for 
 troubling Rory MacAllister, wha — puir lad ! 
 — was just casting a line in the Leatrie Linn." 
 
 " Perhaps Rory had no right to fish in Leatrie 
 Linn." 
 
 " He'll fish there now, right or no right, or 
 Laird Angus will ken the reason why. It was 
 Laird Angus that put aff to sea in the big storm 
 last spring and brought hame again Tavish 
 McLeod and his six sons. It was Laird Angus 
 that sent three o' his ain lads to help the poor 
 widow Binnie get in her bit harvest o' oats. It 
 was Laird Angus who saved Luckie Grant's lit-
 
 LAIRD ANGUS AND A HORSE-TRADE 75 
 
 tie lad when he fell in the lake a few^ weeks syne. 
 And when Black Dugald o' Assynt Point said 
 what he should na hae said anent bonnie Mag- 
 gie MacAllister, it was the Laird Angus that 
 stood up for his poor clanswoman, and made 
 Dugald eat his ain bad words at a dirk's point. 
 Yes, indeed ! he made Dugald tak' the lassie on 
 his arm to the kirk the next Sabbath day, sae 
 that a' might ken he was either a liar or a cow- 
 ard, ane or t'ither. Dinna talk to me anent the 
 young MacAUister ; he is na worthy to tie the 
 ribbons at Laird Angus's knees ! " 
 
 " Is Lord Angus as handsome as his bro- 
 ther ? " 
 
 " As handsome ! There is na the match o' 
 Laird Angus MacAUister in the North Coun- 
 trie ! " exclaimed Christina, enthusiastically. 
 " He is fit to be a king — and he ought to be a 
 king, and it's a shame to think that he is na the 
 eldest and the born chief of the MacAllisters ! " 
 
 " You must be in love with him, Christina." 
 
 " Ow, ay. Everybody is in luve wi' him — 
 lads and lasses, baith o' them." 
 
 " Well, that will do ; and you may leave me 
 to-night, Christina." 
 
 But she could not so dismiss the imaginary
 
 ^6 THE LAST OF TEE MACALLISTERS. 
 
 Laird Angus that Christina had raised. All his 
 splendid beauty and bravery might be a myth, 
 but none the less it strangely influenced Grace. 
 Hector was sensible of some change in Grace, 
 but he never dreamed that it was a shadowy 
 ideal of his brother which stood between them, 
 nor did any feeling of jealousy touch him when 
 he found Grace so interested in Angus and so 
 willing to talk about him. 
 
 He loved Angus so dearly himself that he 
 always gladly suffered the conversation to re- 
 vert to him. Sitting together through the hot, 
 sweet-hours in the shady summer-house, it was 
 so pleasant to watch Grace bending over her 
 lace-work, listening with glowing cheeks to his 
 tales of Angus's wild adventures — so pleasant 
 to see her pretty triumph in Angus's triumph 
 over young Grant of Grant. 
 
 " And your brother took the dirk out of 
 Grant's belt ? " she asked with kindling eyes. 
 
 " Yes, he did that, and he defied Grant to re- 
 take it; and he wears it to this hour." 
 
 " I know Malcolm Grant," she said, scornfully. 
 " He used to visit Aunt Janet in Edinburgh. If 
 I see him there again and he wears no dirk I 
 shall ask after it."
 
 LAIRD ANGUS AND A HORSE-TRADE. 7/ 
 
 " And if he wears one ? " 
 
 " I shall advise him to keep it out of sight of 
 Lord Angus MacAUister." 
 
 It was little wonder that in the charm of such 
 confidences Hector told her about his brother's 
 last adventure, making for him all the apology- 
 possible — in Angus's peculiar bringing-up and 
 education. And it was little wonder also that 
 Grace could see no necessity for apology. " He 
 did exactly right ! " said this very proper young 
 lady. " I do not wonder that MacAUister 
 stands by him ; I should stand by him too ! " 
 
 Two delicious weeks Hector spent at Assynt. 
 At the end of them he thought he might safely 
 seek the laird, and inform him that all danger to 
 his person was over. It would not be necessary 
 to tell him yet of Cameron's interference ; time 
 enough had elapsed to suffer him to suppose that 
 Fraser had effected a compromise, and sent him 
 word to that effect, and the MacAUister was the 
 last of men to trouble himself about business de- 
 tails. 
 
 In those days young people of good birth were 
 vastly more ceremonious about their love-mak- 
 ing than they are at present. Hector's eyes had 
 perhaps said many things he would not yet have
 
 yS THE LAST OF THE MACALLISTERS. 
 
 permitted his tongue to utter; and Grace knew 
 very well how tenderly and honorably the young 
 chief loved her. But their only parting was 
 made on the broad steps of Assynt Castle, and 
 m the presence of John Cameron and of Hec- 
 tor's servant. 
 
 And if Grace knew that Hector loved her, 
 Hector was also satisfied. He did not expect 
 from Grace Cameron more than she had given 
 him. He had seen how the fair, cold girl could 
 warm and glow over any topic that touched her 
 sympathies, and he hoped that ere long those 
 eager eyes would wait for his words and for his 
 approach. 
 
 When he reached Strathleven he found that 
 there had been a messenger from the laird, and 
 that he was at the hunting-lodge in the Edder- 
 kyles. But Angus had not been with the party 
 at Golspie, and he had not met them at the 
 lodge, and if Ewen knew anything of his favorite 
 he was determined to trust no one with the 
 secret. 
 
 " 'Twill pe petter for you not to ken, laird," 
 he said to Hector, " for then, if anypoty asks 
 questions, you'll na need to tell lees. And An-
 
 LA IRD A NG US AND A HORSE- TEA DE 79 
 
 gus can puckle her pelt her nainsel, na fear o' 
 
 tat." 
 
 " I wish I knew whether Fraser is at his own 
 house in Dornoch ? " 
 
 " Tacent man is Lawyer Fraser. I heerd o' 
 him last nicht; he was at Peter Finlay's." 
 
 This was good news to Hector. If Fraser 
 had been at Peter Finlay's the night before he 
 would doubtless be at Strathleven within a few 
 hours, and he resolved to take no further steps 
 until he saw him. He had not long to wait, for 
 when he returned to the castle, Fraser had just 
 arrived — cross, weary, and complaining sorely 
 of the heat, and the rough road, and the tor- 
 menting midges that infested the swampy ground 
 over which a great part of his day's travel had 
 been. 
 
 " But ' they that board wi' cats maun count on 
 acarts,' as the saying is ; and I'll be a wise man 
 when I hae learnt how to tak' care o' mysel." 
 
 " You care overmuch for other people, Fraser ; 
 and some of us, I am afraid, are not over-grate- 
 ful for your care." 
 
 " Grateful here, and grateful there, I'm no 
 counting on that for my pay ? Has onybody 
 seen aught o' that daft lad, Angus ? "
 
 8o THE LAST OF THE MAC A LUSTERS. 
 
 " No, I have not. Have you ?" 
 
 " O'er muckle, o'er muckle by far. He gave 
 me such a stun and such a fleg four days syne 
 that I have na been mysel' since." 
 
 " Then you have seen him ? " 
 
 " Seen him ? Yes, indeed, hae I. And whar 
 but in the broad streets o' Perth itsel' ? If Dea- 
 con Strang had seen me that hour he would hae 
 thought nothing less than house breaking or 
 highway robbery o' me, I was that dumfoun'- 
 ered ! " 
 
 " How came you to see him ? " 
 
 " ril tell you. Hector. Cameron sent me a 
 vera gentlemanly message anent yonder bank 
 business, and I thought I would e'en step over 
 and settle it out o' hand, and be clear o' the 
 weary wark o' it. I knew all would count can- 
 ilie wi' me, except maybe Bailie Campbell, the 
 new director from Argyle, and I feared he would 
 be as contrarie as a' the Campbells and their kin 
 are. 
 
 "But I'm thinking they had seen the shape o' 
 John Cameron's handwrite, for they were won- 
 derfu' civil, and Campbell mair civil than ony 
 o' them, which was just extraordinar, seeing that 
 he was losing instead o' making, sae much so,
 
 LAIRD ANGUS AND A HORSE-TRADE. 8 1 
 
 that when I had pocketed my clearances, and 
 was ready to say, Gude-morning, gentlemen, 
 Campbell insisted on going wi' me. 
 
 " He said he had a horse-trade in hand, and 
 wanted my opinion anent the beast I ken 
 naething about horse-couping, but ony fool can 
 gie an opinion, and I wasna going to let Camp- 
 bell think I did na ken a gude bargain from a 
 bad one. He said he had trysted the man to 
 meet him at the south end o' the Watergate with 
 the cratur; and I said, 'Vera weel, I could gang 
 that way as gude as ony ither.' " 
 
 " But just as we stepped out o' the bank on to 
 the causeway, a man said, * Bailie, I hae brought 
 three horses for you to choose from, and there 
 is a gude place behint to try their speed, if you 
 will.' He was an ill-looking fellow, gypsy frae 
 head to foot ; and I ken na what put it into 
 Campbell's head, but after looking at him a bit 
 he says to me, ' I'll lay ten pound this is ane o' 
 them gypsy fellows that led Sandy McNab's 
 party such a rig in MacAUister's land,' ' What 
 was that ? ' says I. * Oh,' he answered, scorn- 
 fully, * you need na pretend, Fraser, that you 
 ken naught o' that ploy — they were going to 
 Strathleven to tak' the MacAllister.' 
 5
 
 82 THE LAST OF THE 3IACAL LISTERS. 
 
 " I was a bit angry, so I said, in a pawky way, 
 
 * going and getting there, it seems, were wide 
 apart. Bailie Campbell.' Then his face black- 
 ened up, and says he, ' If I could put my hand 
 on them as defied the law o' Scotland yonder 
 fashion, I would gie a gude penny fee ta punish 
 them for it. These Hielandmen,' said he, 
 
 * ought to be taught how to behave themsel's 
 though we have to hang them a to teach them.' 
 
 " It's nane o' the Campbells they'll tak' lessons 
 from," says I, " but here's the horses, bailie, and 
 you'll need a' your Campbell wits about you, if 
 you are for trading wi' these gentlemen." 
 
 " Then I looked at the ither man, and, Hector, 
 it was Jasper Gordon, and he looked at me in 
 that way that I could na hae spoken to him to 
 save mysel'. Then he talked that fair to Camp- 
 bell and put the horse he had through such 
 paces that Campbell was willing to pay 'most 
 any price for him." 
 
 " But Gordon seeing him fain, held off, and said 
 he had one still finer. With that he gied a queer 
 whistle, and a young lad cam' tearing down the 
 street, and this lad was just Angus MacAllister. 
 He gied me the same glamouring look that Ja>--- 
 per gied me, and there I stood, watching him
 
 LAIRD ANGUS AND A HORSE-TRADE. 83 
 
 fleech and flatter Campbell till the trade was 
 made, and Angus put two hundred pounds sterl- 
 ing in his pouch for a beastie no worth forty. 
 Then he gied me anither o' them uncanny looks 
 o' his, and rode awa' on Jasper's horse as if the 
 constable were after him. You'll no believe me, 
 Hector, but he sent a gypsy lad that night to me 
 — to me, a honest lawyer — wi' every baubee o' 
 the twa hundred pounds, and bid me gie them to 
 the MacAllister. He did that. As sure as life 
 and death he did." 
 
 " And you took it ? " 
 
 " What is it you think o' me ? I'm no that 
 daft yet. I sent it back to him wi' a letter, and 
 bade him mak' a straight road to the Orkneys, or 
 ony ither out-o'-theway place he could win at ; 
 the mare sae as Campbell had already found out 
 how badly he had been hocussed, and had been 
 to ask me if I could swear to the lad who sold 
 him the horse." 
 
 " What folly in Angus ! " 
 
 " Wait till you hear the height o' it. The next 
 morn he sent Campbell a letter telling him that 
 the horse was worth forty pounds, and that the 
 balance was what he owed for meddling in affairs 
 that didna concern him,"
 
 84 THE LAST OF THE MACALLISTERS. 
 
 " Oh, Fraser ! " 
 
 " Wait a wee, there's mair yet. The letter had 
 this at the tail end o' it, ' Hielandmen men are na 
 above gieing Campbells a few lessons at one hun- 
 dred and sixty pounds a lesson ;' " and at this 
 point Fraser, in spite of his pretended anger, 
 could not prevent some very comical curves 
 from gathering round his mouth, while Hector 
 laughed outright. 
 
 Then Hector told Fraser of Cameron's propo- 
 sition for the quashing of the indictment against 
 Angus and Ewen, and Fraser accepted it in part. 
 " If Cameron would have a talk with Sandy 
 McNab and the men who had accompanied him 
 to Strathleven, then Fraser would make excep- 
 tions, and have a new examination of the accus- 
 ing parties. In that case he thought their evi- 
 dence would be so contradictory that the charge 
 would be dismissed." 
 
 "And what do you think of Angus and Ewen 
 then, showing themselves in Perth ? " 
 
 " I'll never hear tell o' it. I will na run the 
 risk o' having him appear ony moment in some 
 gypsy disguise. Why, Hector," said Fraser, with 
 a queer tightening of his lips, " how would I feel, 
 when cross- questioning Sandy, to lift my head
 
 LAIRD ANGUS AND A HORSE-TRADE 85 
 
 and find thae black een o' his laughing- at me! 
 Na, na ! I'll run nae such risks, it would be mair 
 than my ain respectability is worth." 
 
 " Ewen knows where he is ; I doubt if any one 
 else at Strathleven knows." 
 
 " Only keep him awa' from Perth, and out o' 
 the bailie's speering after. He will let the horse- 
 couping matter drop soon ; he is too proud to 
 tell the country-side how easy a gypsy lad or a 
 hielandman got the better o' a Campbell." 
 
 " Soon after this visit of Fraser's the pleasant 
 summer weather broke up. The sheep were 
 folded on the hills, the cattle sheltered in the 
 forest, and everything prepared for a long and 
 isolated winter. Hector had intended spending 
 a part of it in Edinburgh, but he now considered 
 that it would take him farther away from Angus 
 if Angus got into more trouble ; it would leave 
 the laird alone, and it would be a greater ex- 
 pense than, perhaps, he ought to contemplate. 
 
 " Yet, after all, he knew that his decision 
 would rest with Miss Cameron's movements. 
 If she went to Edinburgh, he would be very 
 likely to find some excuse for following her ; if 
 she stayed at Assynt, it was certain Hector would 
 remain at Strathleven.
 
 86 THE LAST OF THE 21ACALL1STERS. 
 
 One lovely morning, about three weeks after 
 his return, when the calm, hazy October air was 
 like an afterthought of summer. Hector deter- 
 mined to take advantage of the exceptional 
 weather, and ride over to Assynt. MacAUister, 
 who thought it a first ceremonious visit, made 
 neither remark nor objection, and at the last 
 moment even condescended to word a polite 
 message to Cameron. 
 
 " You see, Hector," he said, hesitatingly, and 
 with a sigh, " yonder plan o' yours anent Angus 
 is na that bad but what it might be worse. 
 You'll look weel at the lassie, and if you think 
 the same when you come back I'll e'en lay my 
 commands on the lad. Times are sair changed, 
 Hector, when a MacAUister can neither rive nor 
 wive when it pleases him." 
 
 It was with this fresh tether on his affections 
 that Hector made the visit he had been dream- 
 ing of for three weeks. The charge fretted him 
 sorely, took the glory out of the sunshine, and 
 the holiday feeling out of his heart. But when 
 he entered Assynt Court, and saw Grace, he for- 
 got everything but the joy of her presence. 
 She was standing by the gardener, watching 
 him tie up the overloaded stems of some snowy
 
 LAIRD ANGUS AND A HORSE-TRADE 8/ 
 
 asters. Her hat swung over her arm, and the 
 fresh breeze from the Atlantic blew her soft, 
 brown curls, and fluttered the bright cherry-col- 
 ored ribbons that fastened her dress. 
 
 When she saw Hector she came to meet him, 
 putting out both her prettily-gloved hands, and 
 blushing divinely with surprise and pleasure. 
 Holding these hands, and looking into her face, 
 all alight with welcome, Hector, for the mo- 
 ment, was sensible of nothing but his own rap- 
 ture. The next hour was surely one stolen 
 from some happier life than this. They wan- 
 dered in the garden, or leaned over the old walls 
 and watched the waves breaking on the shingly 
 beach below them. Hector was too happy to 
 say much, but Grace talked pleasantly, in a low, 
 sweet voice, that was better than singing. 
 
 So lost was he in love's first sweet dream that 
 it was only by a strong effort he could command 
 words with which to meet Cameron, who, about 
 an hour after Hector's arrival, returned from his 
 daily ride. Then they went into the castle, and 
 it was a fresh pleasure to watch Grace in all the 
 womanly ways which appertained to her posi- 
 tion as mistress of a large establishment. It
 
 88 THE LAST OF THE MACALLISTERS. 
 
 was a very happy day, and when the first slant 
 shadows of evening began to fall Cameron said : 
 
 '' Run away, Grace, and put on your habit ; I 
 dare say MacAllister will let us take our even- 
 ing ride on the sands with him." 
 
 Hector was only too glad to be thus convoyed. 
 He knew, too, that he showed to great advant- 
 age on horseback. It was a very lovely even- 
 ing, and the calm beauty of the autumn sunset 
 threw over the party a spell of happy silence — a 
 silence, however, strangely eloquent to those 
 who were listening to their own hearts. For a 
 few minutes it was so profound that the far-off 
 bark of a sheep-dog on the mountains startled 
 them. 
 
 Cameron was the first to recognize outside 
 conditions. " I think," he said, " we must re- 
 turn now. The twilight will scarcely see us 
 home, and I dare say MacAllister is anxious to 
 ride more rapidly." 
 
 Then Hector remembered his father's mes- 
 sage of greeting to the new neighbor, and, per- 
 haps inadvertently, he gave it a more friendly 
 tone than it had been sent with. It highly 
 gratified Cameron. He accepted frankly the 
 MacAllister's excuses for a personal visit, and
 
 LAIRD ANGUS AND A HORSE-TRADE. 89 
 
 requested Hector to name some early day when 
 Miss Cameron and himself could pay their res- 
 pects to the laird at Strathleven. 
 
 Perhaps half- unconsciously, also, Hector in- 
 tensified the good feeling of this message, for the 
 laird's face showed that he was well pleased at 
 Cameron's recognition of the superior claim of 
 his position, 
 
 " Was he that civil ? " he said, complacently, 
 in reply to Cameron's message ; " then we must 
 e'en forget his father and his grandfather, and 
 give him a laird's welcome."
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 TWO QUARRELS AND TWO PROPOSALS. 
 
 '• Intolerable and not to be endured." 
 
 "The best-laid schemes o' mice and men 
 Gang aft a-gley." 
 
 The idea of entertaining Cameron at Strath- 
 leven once admitted, the MacAllister seemed to 
 take a lofty pleasure in arranging the visit. 
 Nothing of the pomp and ceremony incident to 
 his rank in its most splendid times would he 
 have omitted. His henchman, in full highland 
 dress, carried the stately invitation, sealed with 
 the arms of the MacAllisters. 
 
 The battle flags and standards of the clan, 
 colorless in their great age, and " torn to glori- 
 ous rags " in the fierce fights they had passed 
 through, were hung for the occasion in the great 
 hall. All the clansmen were called in from the 
 hills and the clachan ; they lined the mountain- 
 path, they filled the great courtyard, and they 
 lounged in handsome, picturesque groups in the 
 corridors and on the stairways. Henchman, 
 (90)
 
 TWO QUARRELS AND TWO PROPOSALS. 91 
 
 bard, and piper kept close to the laird's person, 
 and half a dozen gillies, each having his special 
 office, waited at the end of the apartment the 
 slightest call of the laird's silver whistle. 
 
 All this pomp, however, was in no respect out 
 of place when it was considered with reference 
 to the noble old chief to whom it appertained. 
 Cameron thought he had never seen a grander 
 mortal. Six feet four inches in stature, neither 
 his seventy years, nor marches, battles, or expo- 
 sures, had bowed his stately form. His head 
 was still erect, his eyes bright and flashing, his 
 voice strong, his skin ruddy, and his dress mag- 
 nificent. The silken garters at his knees, the 
 diamond buckles in his shoes, only indicated the 
 general splendor of his tartan suit, flashing with 
 gems and silver. 
 
 He carried his bonnet in his hand, and ad- 
 vanced twelve paces to meet Cameron. These 
 twelve paces had been a subject of hot debate. 
 Hector had desired the laird to meet his visitor 
 at the portal, but this condescension MacAlHster 
 had absolutely refused. " My father," he said, 
 " took just twelve paces to meet the Duke of 
 Athole when he came to Strathleven to consult 
 on King James's matters, and I'm not sure that
 
 92 THE LAST OF TUB 3IACALLISTERS. 
 
 I'm doing right to put any Cameron even with 
 Athole." 
 
 However, when the actual reception came, 
 MacAllister proved himself a knight and gentle- 
 man far above all such considerations; for, see- 
 ing Miss Cameron upon her father's arm, he 
 overstepped his line without a thought, and ad- 
 vanced to meet the lady with a courteous grace- 
 fulness that threw Hector's formal manners quite 
 into the shade. 
 
 The fact was that Grace's loveliness, set off by 
 an exquisite toilet, so captivated the laird that he 
 forgot, in the presence of beauty, all minor 
 things ; this had always been a ruling motive in 
 his life ; to beauty MacAllister had ever lowered 
 his loftiest pretensions, Grace aroused all the 
 chivalry of his nature ; her roselike, delicate 
 loveliness, and her gentle, graceful manners, 
 were a new form of womanhood to the old high- 
 land chief, for he was quite capable of feeling the 
 charm of a fair and highly-cultured woman. He 
 thought of Angus's dark, glowing face and 
 stately form, and then put this flower-like girl 
 beside him, and he was charmed with the men- 
 tal picture. " Hector was right ; a wife like
 
 TWO QUARRELS AND TWO PROPOSALS. 93 
 
 Grace Cameron would be the best security for 
 Angus." 
 
 The three first days of the visit the weather 
 was exceedingly fine, and admirably suited for 
 out-door pleasures. Cameron, keeping steadily 
 in view a plan he had for inducing MacAllister to 
 join him in the fisheries and other industries he 
 was inaugurating, managed, during the period, to 
 become well acquainted with the capabilities of 
 the MacAllister estate. 
 
 On the fourth day the weather broke, a storm 
 confined every one to the house, and then came 
 Cameron's opportunity. But somehow, he made 
 business pleasant to the chief, for Cameron had 
 bland, conciliating ways of putting things ; he 
 knew how to respect prejudices and avoid harm- 
 less vanities, and in five days he accomplished 
 what Fraser would hardly have managed in five 
 years. 
 
 Doubtless Grace and Hector contributed to 
 this result, Cameron had his own views about 
 Hector, and MacAUister about Grace; and 
 though these were not spoken of, the sight of 
 the young people sitting together in some win- 
 dow recess, or bending over the same book, or
 
 94 THE LAST OF THE MACALLISTERS. 
 
 singing the same song, made both men tolerant 
 and conciliating. 
 
 On the last evening of the visit a circumstance 
 occurred which bound them still closer together. 
 The cloth had been drawn, but the two old men 
 were still sitting at the table and listening to 
 Grace and Hector, who were singing. Finally 
 Grace struck up a wild, stirring, Jacobite " gath- 
 ering song," and its martial refrain strangely agi- 
 tated the laird. 
 
 He slowly filled his glass, and then poured it 
 out on the floor with the air of a man offering a 
 libation, afterwards sobbing out the refrain with 
 a passion too genuine not to deserve respect. It 
 was so genuine that it touched something deeper 
 than all theprudences and reasonable convictions 
 of Cameron's life. He, also, silently filled his 
 glass and followed MacAUister's example ; then 
 the two men clasped hands as they had never 
 done before. 
 
 It was just at this juncture a gilly came in 
 with a letter to Hector from Laird Angus. 
 He was almost glad of the diversion. Whether 
 it was the fourfold sympathy of the song or some 
 peculiar tenderness in Grace's manner mattered 
 little ; he had been on the point of saying words
 
 TWO QUARRELS AND TWO PROPOSALS. gc^ 
 
 which, alas, he must not say yet. Happily the 
 transition of feeling was so complete as to bring 
 an entirely new atmosphere into the room. For 
 once Angus's letter was altogether good; he 
 had had no quarrels, and he had been in no ex- 
 traordinary dangers. 
 
 Moved by various reasons, none of which he 
 stopped to examine. Hector began a conversa- 
 tion about his brother in such an enthusiastic 
 tone that Grace could not but feel interested in 
 it, and subsequent events contributed to 
 strengthen the power which this unseen knight 
 was gaining over her. Cameron's projects were 
 yet in their infancy, and needed his constant 
 care ; consequently he remained at Assynt, and 
 the two households found the long, stormy win- 
 ter shortened by such mutual hospitalities as the 
 weather permitted. In all their intercourse 
 Angus became a prominent subject of conversa- 
 tion, and Hector did not see that, however far 
 he had touched her heart, Angus was the lord 
 of her imagination. 
 
 Thus at Assynt and Strathleven the winter 
 went not unpleasantly away. Many new hopes 
 had come into the lives of the laird and his 
 eldest son. The profitable changes Cameron
 
 g6 THE LAST OF THE MACALLTSTERS. 
 
 was making on his own estate were to be gradu- 
 ally extended, and the prospects for the future 
 lords of MacAUister were of a flattering charac- 
 ter in a financial point of view. Both Hector 
 and his father had come to think of Grace 
 always in connection with any changes at 
 Strathleven, though they did not think of her 
 m the same way. 
 
 MacAUister discussed her marriage with An- 
 gus in the frankest manner to Hector, and Hec- 
 tor had never but once dared to suggest the 
 possibility of Grace preferring the brother whom 
 she had known first. The laird received the 
 supposition with incredulity, and hoped, with a 
 scornful laugh, that his " eldest son would never 
 make a Jewish Jacob of himsel', and steal away 
 his younger brother's fortune." 
 
 Hector received this reproof with a conscious 
 silence ; the old chief was pitilessly keen where 
 Angus was concerned, and he had looked down 
 into his eldest son's heart, and detected its one 
 false spot. But Hector could answer with a 
 conscious integrity, " I have been true to An- 
 gus, father ; always true. If I love Grace I 
 have never let her see it ; nor shall I unless An- 
 gus refuses to seek her hand."
 
 TWO QUARRELS AXD TWO PROPOSALS. 97 
 
 "Angus must not — shall not — I will — ' 
 
 " Father, Isabel Gordon may stand before 
 Miss Cameron." 
 
 '* The height o' nonsense ! I'll hear none of 
 it! '' Then remembering his former opinion on 
 Angus's right to marry whom he would, he 
 said, querulously, " I have changed my mind on 
 many things, son Hector. We have gotten a 
 new king, and new laws, and we must choose 
 wives accordingly," 
 
 " You married where you loved, father." 
 
 " Yes, and I went where I listed likewise. A 
 man could take gold with his sword then; he 
 did not need to v/ed it with a ring. It is not 
 my fault, Hector lad, that the nobler way has 
 gane out of fashion. Forbye, I like the lassie ! 
 Gold, or no gold, I want my Angus to wed her. 
 Hector, dear lad, you will hae the land, let your 
 brother hae the lass." 
 
 This was a tone Hector could never resist 
 from his father; and, though he was not able 
 to say a word in reply, MacAllister knew from 
 the manner in which his offered hand had been 
 clasped that no temptation would make Hector 
 untrue to his brother's interests. 
 
 Still the laird was anxious. The marriage of 
 6
 
 98 THE LAST OF THE MACALLISTERS. 
 
 Grace and Angus had become the pet project 
 of his old age, and he entered into it with all 
 the earnestness that had characterized the war- 
 like expeditions of his youth. Isabel's influence 
 he did not much fear — " they are both wilful, 
 and both have tempers of their own ; they will 
 have quarrelled before this, I'm thinking ; and 
 I'll e'en send for Jasper, and get him to marry 
 her to some of her ain people," he decided. 
 
 This difficulty was the subject of his thoughts 
 one morning as he rode over to Assynt. On 
 his way there he met Dominie Talisker of As- 
 synt, and as they were riding the same way they 
 continued in company. The Taliskers had in- 
 termarried with the MacAllisters, and the laird 
 had a great respect for the clergyman's influ- 
 ence and good sense. He was also John Cam- 
 eron's right-hand man, and it would be a good 
 thing for Angus if Talisker would prepare the 
 way for him by a word now and then in his 
 favor. While the laird was wondering how best 
 to introduce a subject so important to him, the 
 dominie said, 
 
 "When did ye hear from Laird Angus Mac- 
 AlHster?" 
 
 " Weeks syne ; I'm not sure how many."
 
 TWO QUARRELS AND TWO PROPOSALS. gg 
 
 " Wherever he is, I hope he is behaving him- 
 sel' better than he did in his ain hame." 
 
 " What do you mean, Dominie ? You are 
 weel shielded ahint your coat, or you would na 
 dare to speak those words to me. And pray 
 what business is it of yours how Laird Angus 
 behaves himself?" 
 
 " It is always my business to reprove what is 
 wrong; and, Laird, I dinna think ye hae done 
 your duty by your son lately." 
 
 " Oh, indeed ! " 
 
 " There was that affair with the king's messen- 
 gers." 
 
 "It will be great news to King Geordie to 
 hear that the Taliskers are standing up for him." 
 
 " Come, come, Laird, wrang is wrang wha- 
 ever does it ; and though I might find excuses 
 for Angus in a matter o' politics and lawyer's 
 troubles, there is nane at a' to be offered anent 
 yon gypsy beggar lass. They are thieves and 
 vagabonds, every ane o' them. Laird ; they will 
 neither come to kirk on the Sabbath Day, nor 
 yet listen to me on ony o' the sax days. Ye 
 should keep your lad out o' such bad company, 
 laird." 
 
 " You will take heed how you speak o' my
 
 lOO THE LAST OF THE MACA LUSTERS. 
 
 kinfolk, Domirxie Talisker. Gypsies ! Beggars ! 
 Thieves ! Vagabonds ! Eh ? They are of as 
 gentle blood as the Taliskers, and that I will 
 maintain at my dirk's point. I married my wife 
 out of their tents. Now, sir ! " 
 
 "Laird, I was wrang. I hae nae right to 
 speak o' ony o' God's creatures that way. What 
 I said you will put down to Tavish Talisker his 
 ainsel', and not to the office he fills. I'm sair 
 grieved I didna speak in a mair Christian-like 
 way." 
 
 "There's a variety of Christian-like ways; 
 yours may pass with the rest of them. Gude- 
 morning to you. Dominie." And with the con- 
 sciousness that he had kept his temper wonder- 
 fully and got the best in the dispute, the laird 
 rode proudly forward. 
 
 This little incident only strengthened his deter- 
 mination to marry Angus to Grace, and he de- 
 termined to speak at once to Cameron about it. 
 Everything seemed favorable for such a pro- 
 posal. Cameron saw him coming, and met him 
 at the gate of the castle. He was proud of 
 MacAUister's acquaintance and anxious to win 
 his good-will, and this morning's visit was singu- 
 larly opportune, for Cameron had been thinking
 
 TWO QUARRELS AND TWO PROPOSALS. loi 
 
 of him, and wondering if he would be willing to 
 join in manning a fleet of herring-boats during 
 the coming summer. 
 
 As they sat before the blazing pine tops Cam- 
 eron frankly asked his co-operation. MacAllis- 
 ter listened at first courteously, and, as the 
 pecuniary advantages became apparent, with 
 great interest. 
 
 " It is a good ploy every way, Cameron," he 
 answered, heartily, "and I am wi' you in it; 
 there's my thumb on it. If you will see to the 
 boats, I will provide the men." 
 
 " You think your people will be willing ?" 
 
 " I dinna think about it; I am sure they'll be 
 willing if it's the MacAUister's pleasure for them 
 to go. Why should na they ? " 
 
 " And the men are to have half the profits ; 
 the other half you and I will divide. That is 
 fair, eh ? " 
 
 " Fair enough for me, Cameron, seeing that I 
 have no outgo ; but I'll make it up to Assynt, 
 that will I," said the laird proudly. " Cameron, 
 I have taken your offer free and kindly, now I'll 
 give you an offer. Giff-gaff makes gude 
 friends."
 
 102 THE LAST OF TUE MACALLISTERS. 
 
 " Any offer the MacAllister makes me I shall 
 be very proud to consider." 
 
 " Gertie ; that is well answered, Cameron, and 
 I don't deny that it is an honor. I would offer 
 myself, the Chief o' the MacAllisters, if I was 
 only twenty years younger ; but I'm too old 
 now for so bonnie a lass, so I ask your daughter's 
 hand for my son, sir. I trow he is worthy o' it." 
 
 Cameron's face glowed with pleasure. " Noth- 
 ing on earth could content me more, MacAl- 
 lister. Grace will have plenty of gold, but I 
 value good birth and an ancient family like 
 yours far beyond wealth. If my daughter weds 
 with MacAllister she shall go to him full- 
 handed." 
 
 " Miss Cameron is worthy of a royal duke if 
 she had na a bawbee ; but doubtless the gold is 
 both needfu' and charming also." 
 
 " She shall have fifty thousand pounds on her 
 wedding-day, and Assynt, as weel as sundries in 
 Edinburgh property, will be hers at my death. 
 Besides, I really think the young things are 
 fond of one another." 
 
 " What is it you say, Cameron ? You are 
 wrong there. They have never met each other 
 yet."
 
 TWO QUARRELS AND TWO PROPOSALS. 103 
 
 "Then we are both wrong, Laird, and I am 
 very sorry for it. I was thinking of Laird Hec- 
 tor." 
 
 "And I was meaning Laird Angus. But you 
 need not trouble yoursel', Cameron, she is sure 
 to hke Angus when she does meet him. Have 
 you ever met my youngest son, Cameron ?" 
 
 " No, Laird, but I have heard much of him, 
 and, as this matter touches my child, I must 
 frankly tell you that I could not sanction a mar- 
 riage between Laird Angus and my daughter." 
 
 MacAUister flushed passionately, but he was 
 pleading for his favorite's welfare, and he made 
 a strong effort to control his anger. 
 
 "A few silly, boyish tricks, Cameron ; they 
 don't touch the lad's heart. That is true and 
 brave ; every drop of blood in it is true and 
 brave. Everybody loves Angus best." 
 
 " I prefer Laird Hector MacAUister, and if 
 you are in my mind I'll stand to what I have 
 said. If they marry next year, or next week, I 
 will give to Grace fifty thousand pounds.'' 
 
 "A poor penny that to buy a husband for 
 your lass ! Do you know, sir, that Hector Mac- 
 AUister is not only laird of a clan as auld as the 
 Flood and aulder, sir, but he is also the nephew
 
 I04 THE LAST OF THE MACALLISTERS. 
 
 o' the great Duke of Gordon. His mother was 
 the duke's own sister, sir. Fifty thousand 
 pounds ! Hector might w^ed a princess, Cam- 
 eron, and there is none that could call it a mis- 
 match." 
 
 Cameron bowed. Indeed, his prejudices about 
 birth were so great that he quite believed Mac- 
 Allister. He was not offended at his anger, but 
 he was keenly disappointed at the failure of a 
 scheme which he had so earnestly desired, and 
 which had seemed to be on the verge of a satis- 
 factory fulfillment. 
 
 " I am very sorry, MacAUister." 
 
 "And you will be sorrier yet, sir. However, 
 gude-day to you ; " and the laird rose proudly 
 and walked towards the door. He was too 
 angry to listen then to either regret or reason, 
 and Cameron wisely permitted him to indulge 
 his temper. He guessed that the result would 
 be what it actually was, for MacAUister had not 
 reached Strathleven before he regretted the ir- 
 ritable manner in which he had left Assynt. 
 
 "A hasty man is never out o' trouble," he said, 
 "and now I'll have lost all chance o' that her- 
 ring-money. Uuiff ! Umff ! Let it go with
 
 TWO QUARRELS AND TWO PROPOSALS. 105 
 
 the fish to the deep sea ! I'll never hear Angus 
 slighted for all the gold in Scotland." 
 
 He was in the courtyard at Strathleven when 
 he reached this decision, and, quite satisfied with 
 it, he lifted his head and saw Fraser coming to 
 meet him. 
 
 " Weel, auld Pounds-shillings-and-pence, what 
 new botheration hae you brought me ? " 
 
 " I have come wi' gude news, and naething 
 but gude news, MacAllister. " 
 
 " Then after that comes a cow to be shod. To 
 take the wonder aff, Fraser, I have gotten bad 
 news, though maybe you can sort it. You are 
 pawky enough to help the deil out o' a creel." 
 
 " I dinna like his pay, laird, and — " 
 
 " Come in, sir, and I'll tell you all about it. 
 Here, Hamish! Rory ! Neill ! Lauchlan ! tak' 
 these beasts and stable them, and see the blaze 
 is bright and the water boiling, and tell Airly it 
 is none too early for dinner. Come along! 
 Come along, Fraser ! " 
 
 The lawyer took things more coolly; he gave 
 Rory special directions about his cob and the 
 quantity of oats and water it was to have ; then 
 he watched its gait across the court, and finally, 
 after a look of delight at the woods and strath,
 
 I06 THE LAST OF THE 3IACjiLLISTERS. 
 
 SO beautiful in the glory of early spring, he 
 sauntered up to the hearthstone in the great 
 hall, and stood rubbing his hands before the 
 blaze. 
 
 " Sit down, Fraser, sit down, man ! I want 
 to have this morning's wark out with you before 
 Hector comes in. Would you believe it? I, 
 1/ have taken two fair, square insults within 
 the last four hours, and I have never said angry 
 word, nor drawn dirk about them." 
 
 " Think again, Laird. Not one angry word ? " 
 
 " Weel, I kept my temper wonderfu' with the 
 dominie." 
 
 "What is this? Hae you been quarrelling 
 baith with laird and dominie ? " 
 
 " Laird, indeed ! A new cock laird ! If 
 Cameron is laird, then I wonder what I am ? " 
 
 "You are MacAllister! We a' ken that. 
 But what set you quarrelling with these twa 
 men, of a' ithers ? " 
 
 " What set them quarrelling with me ? Ask 
 that. I met Talisker as I was riding to Assynt, 
 and he ups and tells me more o' my duty than 
 I'll stand from ony man — priest or lawyer. 
 Still, I kept my temper wonderfu', and I left the 
 dominie very ill-satisfied with his own behavior
 
 TWO QUAERELS AND TWO PROPOSALS. 107 
 
 — as well he might be. But Cameron was that 
 pleasant, I forgot all about the little splutter, 
 and he made me a proposal I thought very 
 highly of." 
 
 ''What was it?" 
 
 "He is building a fle^t o' herring-boats, but 
 he has not the men to work them.'' 
 
 " No, I'm thinking not. Assynt has been in 
 the courts for thirty years — neither laird nor 
 master on the place ; and the men have scat- 
 tered maistly all o'er the world — weel ? " 
 
 " He was to find the boats and I the men ; 
 and we were to divide one half the profits be- 
 tween us. I thought I might say yes to that 
 offer.'* 
 
 " Gertie ! The advantage is clear on your 
 side. You didna quarrel anent this, surely ? " 
 
 " No, we quarrelled because he refused to let 
 his daughter wed with Angus. That is what 
 we quarrelled about." 
 
 Fraser colored angrily. " I can scarce credit 
 it, Laird. John Cameron refuse a marriage wi' 
 the MacAUisters ! Why, he was fidging fain for 
 it when he and I spoke o' the matter." 
 
 "Then you have been trading aff my sons
 
 I08 THE LAST OF THE MACALLISTERS. 
 
 without a 'By your leave, laird,' have ye? I 
 didna think that o' you, Fraser." 
 
 " Hush, hush. Laird. You are talking with- 
 out ony knowledge o' the subject. I did naught 
 but speak well of Angus, and bid Miss Grace 
 look out for her heart w' such a bonnie neigh- 
 bor lad. And when she blushed I just turned 
 to Cameron and said, ' There is many a true 
 word said in joke, and this would be a good one 
 to come true.' " 
 
 " And what said Cameron ? " 
 
 " He said naething could please him better, 
 for that the MacAUisters were the noblest blood 
 in Scotland." 
 
 " And then ? " 
 
 " I said Laird Angus was the prince o' his 
 house. Then Cameron poured out a glass o' 
 wine, and we drank it thegither. I understood 
 that he drank wi' me to the success o' the mar- 
 riage we had spoken of, I like not that Came- 
 ron goes back on a paction wi' me." 
 
 " Umff ! I like it not either." 
 
 " Then I spoke to Hector about it, and he 
 thought weel o' such a marriage. Afterwards I 
 spoke to Angus, but Angus had anither lass 
 between him and his five senses at the time, sae
 
 TWO QUARRELS AND TWO PROPOSALS. 109 
 
 iny words blew by him like an idle wind. But 
 for a' that and a' that, I am for wedding Angus 
 wi' Grace Cameron. When folks mak' a bar- 
 gain, though it be only wi' the lifting o' an eye- 
 lid, I am for seeing that they keep it." 
 
 " Stop, Fraser. I haven't told you all yet. 
 He did not want Angus to wed his daughter, 
 but he was keen to mate her with Laird Hector. 
 He even said they were fond of each other. 
 That is just impossible! Hector has known 
 from the first that we have sorted Grace Came- 
 ron to his brother. Then, besides, Hector kens 
 what belongs to his birthright. The Laird o' 
 MacAIlister and the nephew o' Gordon, he must 
 marry no woman who cannot even herself with 
 him." 
 
 " You are right there. Hector ought to 
 marry for the gude of the MacAllisters. There 
 is nae cause why he should na sit in the House 
 o' Lords yet. If you will do as I tell you, the 
 estate will warrant it in ten years. I'm looking 
 to see Hector wi' a duke's coronet on him, that 
 I am." 
 
 " We ought to have worn it lang ago, Fraser, 
 as you know, but for — weel, let that pass — but 
 Ivor MacAIlister had the promise of a dukedom
 
 1 10 TUE LAST OF THE SIAC'AL LISTERS. 
 
 fra — weel, weel, it was na to be, though the 
 papers were made out, and had the royal signa- 
 ture — conditional. But it is a far cry back to 
 Killiecrankie, and we need not name it now; 
 still, as you say. Hector may sort it all, and the 
 MacAUister sit in the House o' Lords yet." 
 
 The thought was so pleasant to both men that 
 they silently indulged it for some minutes ; in- 
 deed, until they were interrupted in their ambi- 
 tious dream by the entrance of Hector himself. 
 He had been out on the hills and was tired and 
 hungry, but he was always glad to see Fraser, 
 although Fraser, still under the spell of his 
 splendid reverie, addressed him with a deffer- 
 ence very puzzling to the unconscious future 
 duke. 
 
 Hector's instant thought was bad news, but 
 his first inquiry dispelled this fear. " Is there to 
 be any more trouble about Angus and that Perth 
 affair, Fraser ? " 
 
 " No ; that business ended wi' a girn and a 
 laugh, Hector, though it looked black enou' at 
 first. At the second examining neither Sandy 
 McNab nor any o' the others were sure o' any- 
 thing, except that they had been very tired, and
 
 TWO QUARRELS AND TWO PROPOSALS, m 
 
 drunk some hot whiskey. The judge gave 
 Sandy an extraor'nar severe reproof." 
 
 " Poor Sandy ! " 
 
 " Hout ! There were compensations — com- 
 pensations. Sandy was satisfied, and Angus is 
 as free as I am. The lad is as lucky in getting 
 out o' scrapes as he is handy in getting into 
 them. There is anither reason, however, for my 
 present visit to Strathleven. The Sinclairs hae 
 offered ten thousand pounds down for the Mac- 
 Gunns' land, and twa thousand mair in twa 
 years. It is a gude offer, and you had better 
 tak' it, MacAUister. The land is parted from 
 your land by twelve miles o' Sinclair moss and 
 bog, and the men are no near kin o' yours. Let 
 them go." 
 
 " How much will it take to give them a fair 
 start in Canada?" 
 
 " Twa thousand pounds will mak' the whole 
 ninety happy. You can spare that, for you'll 
 hae eight thousand to clear off mortgages 
 and—" 
 
 " And then I'll build my ain herring-fleet, and 
 Cameron can get his men where he lists. I 
 shall tell my lads not to let Cameron's boats 
 near my shore — they won't mind turning her-
 
 112 THE LAST OF THE MACALLISTERS. 
 
 ring-fishers if there is a chance of fighting too." 
 
 Hector rose to his feet and looked at his 
 father in amazement, but the laird would not see 
 the storm he had raised. He continued to 
 watch the blazing fire with a thoughtful smile, 
 and Fraser was compelled to answer the young 
 man's look of miserable inquiry. 
 
 " There has been a little trouble with John 
 Cameron, Hector ; and I must say, in this case, 
 the laird is not to blame. Cameron has be- 
 haved badly — very badly." 
 
 *' What about ? Be honest with me. Fraser." 
 
 " About Miss Cameron. She is gude, and 
 bonnie, and rich, but there is naething can ex- 
 cuse Cameron for declining a marriage wi' the 
 house o' MacAllister. Too much honor for 
 him, if he knew it." 
 
 Hector turned pale, but he walked to the win- 
 dow with a firm and stately step, and stood look- 
 ing out in silence. No one was inclined to dis- 
 turb him, and he was compelled to ask the 
 question on which his life seemed to hang. 
 
 " You say that Cameron refused his daughter 
 to our house? '' 
 
 " Yes."
 
 TWO QUARRELS AND TWO PROPOSALS. 113 
 
 " What had he against me ? Angus he does 
 not know." 
 
 " He had nothing against you, Hector. He 
 would give you his daughter and fifty thousand 
 pounds with her ; it is Angus he declines." 
 
 A bright flush which it was impossible for 
 Hector to control succeeded the deathly pallor 
 on his cheeks. He turned round and left the 
 room without a word. But Fraser had been 
 watching him, and his heart throbbed sorrov/- 
 fully for the young laird. All the same, he was 
 determined to do everything in his power to 
 utterly frustrate Hector's love and hopes. 
 
 For not the MacAllister himself was as eager 
 to advance the glory of the MacAlHsters as 
 Fraser was. He had even made a careful study 
 of the Scotch peerage, and prepared a list of 
 rich and noble ladies from whom Hector might 
 prudently take a wife. Hector was to secure 
 parliamentary power or a place at court by his 
 marriage; Angus, by uniting himself to the heir- 
 ess of Assynt, was to extend the name and 
 power of MacAllister along the western coast 
 of Scotland. 
 
 This w^as Fraser's plan, and he was by no 
 means inclined to relinquish it because JohUj, 
 7
 
 1 14 THE LAST OF THE 3IACAL LISTERS. 
 
 Cameron had changed his mind. He did not 
 fear Hector interfering with his designs for An- 
 gus, but he was sorry that the lad should suffer 
 in his self-denial. Hector's suffering, however, 
 was a mere incident of the plan, and must not 
 be allowed to affect final results. 
 
 The three men met again in the evening, but 
 they were a dull party. Fraser and the laird 
 confined their conversation to the emigration of 
 the MacGunns, and Hector was silent and 
 gloomy. But the laird always retired early, and 
 Fraser knew that Hector was waiting to discuss 
 the Cameron affair with him alone. The old 
 man grieved for the duty before him, but he was 
 determined to enforce it, even when Hector, 
 white and stern in his anxiety and anguish, 
 said, " Fraser, you have been a second father to 
 me, and I know you would scorn to deceive me. 
 Is there any good reason why I may not marry 
 Miss Cameron?" 
 
 " There are many reasons, Hector. I am 
 sorry — " 
 
 " Sorry ! Oh, Fraser, I love the girl ! I love 
 her better than my life ! " 
 
 " Not better than honor, not better than your 
 promise to your dying mother, not bt^tter than
 
 TWO QUARRELS AND TWO PROPOSALS. 115 
 
 the welfare and dignity of a name that has come 
 to you through a long line of ancestors. No, 
 no, Hector ! You are na that selfish. I think 
 better o' you than that," 
 
 " Oh, Grace ! Grace ! " 
 
 The cry was so heart-broken that Fraser felt 
 a strong thrill of sympathy. 
 
 " Hector, my dear lad," he said, mournfully, 
 " he that lives for himsel' lives a puir, mean life. 
 You ought to be the head o' the greatest as well 
 as the auldest house in the North Countrie. 
 The last twa chiefs did well to hold their ain, 
 but you hae chances they never had, and ye 
 canna let them pass by and be guiltless o' 
 wranging the whole clan o' the MacAlIisters. 
 You maun ceevilize these braw, brave savages, 
 sir, and you maun marry to suit this lookout." 
 
 " Grace has — " 
 
 " Grace has money, but she has na birth, and 
 she has na influence, and these you canna pass 
 by, though the want is nae fault for Angus, for 
 if Angus weds her, then we may lawfully hope 
 that the MacAllister's name will cover all As- 
 synt. Ye ken I told you this from the first, and 
 you canna and you must na stand in your 
 brother's light. There is your cousin, Lady
 
 1 1 6 THE LAST OF THE MACALLISTER3. 
 
 Betty Breadalbane, and your fourth cousin, 
 Lady Kitty Menzies, and there are the twa bon- 
 nie daughters o' the Earl o' Fife and Buchan — " 
 
 " Stop, Fraser. If I may not marry Miss 
 Cameron, then I will remain unmarried." 
 
 " You'll do naething o' that sort. You must 
 marry, Hector, Y'ou'll no turn traitor against 
 your ain clan and name. The Laird o' Mac- 
 AUister is bound to marry. Don't go away an- 
 gry. Hector; say gude-nicht to me; I am your 
 true friend, lad," 
 
 " You believe it, I am sure, Fraser, but I am 
 heart-sick and cannot see the justice of your 
 argument to-night, especially if — if it should in- 
 volve another." 
 
 " Do you think the lassie loves you ? " 
 
 " I had hoped so. I never asked her, and 
 what a woman says with her blushes and smiles 
 is all Greek to me. I cannot construe it." 
 
 "All Greek ! Greek would be easy reading. 
 Hector. This is a language for which there is 
 nae dictionary provided."
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE FIRST CLOUD OF THE STORM. 
 
 " Rise, rise, lowland and highland man ! 
 
 Bald sire to beardless son, each come and early; 
 Rise, rise, Mainland and Island man ! 
 
 Belt your broad claymores — fight for Prince Charlie." 
 
 Fraser took what he called, a lang session, 
 with himself that night, for his distress at the 
 unfortunate turn his matrimonial speculation had 
 taken was not his only trouble concerning the 
 house of MacAllister. Though he had said 
 nothing to Hector, he was quite sure that the 
 laird had some unusual anxiety on his heart, 
 and an incautious remark of MacAllister's had 
 pointed to a cause which he could only believe 
 likely on the ground that it was so unlikely and 
 so dangerous, the return of the Stuarts. And 
 he sat long and late, arguing out with himself 
 the subject of his meditations. 
 
 " Yon was a queer fishing at Golspie. It 
 meant more than grilse I'm doubting. Stewart 
 o' Appin, and Macdonald o' Keppoch,and Glen- 
 
 (117)
 
 1 18 THE LAST OF THE MACALLISTERS. 
 
 coe likewise ! Unless I were daft to be under 
 suspicion I wouldna choose siccan a trio o' Jaco- 
 bites to go fishing wi'. There's mair in the wind 
 than MacAllister has told me. The Lord help 
 us a' if there's anither rising ! And what will 
 Andrew Fraser do ? I'll hae to get somebody 
 to put me out o' sight and hearing o' claymores 
 and bagpipes. I'm a member o' the kirk now, 
 and I hae gotten a bonnie place o' my ain. 
 Surely, surely I hae come to my senses ! What 
 na for should I risk all on a whistle like ? Is 
 na ane king as gude as anither, and better too ? 
 And there's that lad Angus. What will comeo' 
 him ? What has come o' him ? If there is 
 water boiling 'tween John o' Groats and Carlisle, 
 he'll hae to be paddling in it, I'm an auld man, 
 I'm an auld man, and I'll no lose my head for a' 
 the crown's that ever were worn. But I'm mis- 
 doubting Angus sairly." 
 
 In the morning MacAllister was unusually in- 
 clined to business matters, but his uncertainty as 
 to his proceedings in the MacGunn matter still 
 further excited Fraser's suspicions. The previous 
 night the hope of ;^8ooo clear money had greatly 
 excited him; in the morning he was not sure 
 that he cared to sell the land.
 
 THE FIRST CLOUD OF THE STORAf. HQ 
 
 "But you'll never mak' fishers o' the Mac- 
 Gunns, MacAUister. Let them gang to Can- 
 ada." 
 
 " It is not for fishers I'm wanting them. They 
 are grand fighters." 
 
 " But what do you want wi' fighters ? " 
 
 " That's my own business." 
 
 "Are you going to conquer Assynt ? " 
 
 *' No jibing, Fraser. I have got business above 
 your sorting," 
 
 " I am your humble friend and kinsman, Laird, 
 You have nae friend truer. Let the MacGunns 
 go. It will be that much temptation out o' your 
 way. Will you tell me where Angus is ? " 
 
 " Don't trouble your head about Angus. He 
 is wi' friends. I'm not to be questioned any 
 further. I'll answer no questions, and I'll send 
 no good men across seas. Now ! That's my 
 answer. But the Sinclairs are true Scots, and 
 you may tell them to save their gold, they'll hae 
 a grand use for it ere lang." 
 
 " You are na fooling me, laird? " 
 
 " I am not wanting to fool you." 
 
 " Speak to me plainly, then." 
 
 " It is not my time yet. Wait a bit." 
 
 " I wish I knew where Angus was."
 
 I20 THE LAST OF THE MACALLISTERS. 
 
 " You are not the lad's father. If I can bear 
 his absence, you may. I can't whistle him here 
 exactly, but he is not very far off." 
 
 Indeed, he was nearer than even MacAllister 
 suspected. In the woods scarcely five miles 
 from Assynt there was a little rocky defile, now 
 ankle-deep in fresh green grass and wild blue 
 violets. Here were pitched a couple of rude 
 tents, and Angus was standing in the door of 
 one of them. Those accustomed to seeing him 
 in the costume of a highland gentleman would 
 scarcely have recognized him in his gypsy dress 
 of corduroy and black velveteen, though in any 
 case his fine stature and beautiful face would 
 have attracted attention. 
 
 Isabel leaned against the silvery trunk of a 
 beech-tree, and its tender green shadow threw a 
 peculiar charm over her bright, vivid beauty. 
 There was a mocking, indifferent, coquettish ex- 
 pression about her that seemed to be at once 
 fascinating and irritating to Angus as he stood 
 watching her. 
 
 "Angus," she said, as she lazily counted the 
 silver beads in her necklace, " have you noticed 
 Borzlam's new horse, and how splendidly he 
 manages him ? "
 
 THE FIRST CLOUD OF THE STORM. 121 
 
 " Tell Borzlam that he had better not provoke 
 too much of my notice." 
 
 " Ah, now you are angry again ! You have a 
 bad temper, Angus." 
 
 " Who gave you that necklace ? " 
 
 " Borzlam. Be quiet, Angus. I was joking 
 Borzlam about it, and he gave it to me. It was 
 only a piece of merrymaking.'' 
 
 " I like not such merrymaking. Tell Borzlam 
 that Angus MacAllister jokes with his dirk. 
 You are a coquette, Isabel, and I despise a co- 
 quette. If you cannot give me love for love, 
 I'll have no cheating ; not a merk in money, 
 not a smile in love. I am going away, now. 
 Farewell." 
 
 " Angus ! Angus ! Angus ! " 
 
 But the young man was in far too fierce a pas- 
 sion of jealousy and anger to listen to the im- 
 ploring cry. He walked rapidly away from the 
 girl, who watched him out of sight, and then 
 threw herself on the grass in a burst of grief 
 and despair quite oriental in character. 
 
 Angus took a straight road to Ewen's cot- 
 tage, and the old man had evidently been ex- 
 pecting him. 
 
 " Ta things are ready," he said, kissing the
 
 122 THE LAST OF THE MACALLISTERS. 
 
 hands of the young chief with a devotion and 
 tenderness that had something of a mother's 
 love in it, " ta things are ready, and there's nane 
 kens she's set eyes on yon laird. Now fats 
 your will and pleasure, and she'll do it ; fate'er 
 it is, she'll do it" 
 
 " There is a new laird at Assynt, John Cam- 
 eron. Have you seen him, Ewen ? " 
 " Teet has she." 
 
 " He has a daughter. Do you know her ? " 
 "She's seen her, mair nor ance or twice." 
 " Then you must have speech with her, and 
 none must see you, Ewen, and you must give 
 her this letter, and bring me an answer." 
 " She'll do tat same if she ties for it." 
 " Is my kilt and bonnet and philibeg here ? " 
 " Tat it is, and your pelt and plaid, andprooch 
 and purse. Her nainsel' cleaned ta siller put- 
 tons, and sorted ta tassels and ta lace, and it's 
 praw enough for a king to wear." 
 
 " Then away, Ewen, and bring me word back 
 as soon as may be." 
 
 Ewen took a straight road to Assynt, keeping 
 up that peculiar running trot that is even yet the 
 gait of a highlandman among the hills. Ar- 
 rived at Assynt, he went at once to the kitchen.
 
 THE FIRST CLOUD OF THE STORM, 1 23 
 
 The cook, though of the clan of Macdonald, had 
 married a MacAllister, and he was sure of a bite 
 and a sup ; the rest he left to good fortune and 
 his own keen observation. 
 
 He did not judge incorrectly, Margery made 
 him heartily welcome ; she was proud to show 
 off her power and the many advantages of serv- 
 ing Cameron, though he was a new laird, and 
 she gave Ewen of the best her larder afforded. 
 He ate and drank with much condescension and 
 complaisance, not any the less so because he had 
 an idea that he was on a message likely to bring 
 trouble to Cameron, whom he regarded as an in- 
 terloper among highland gentlemen. 
 
 " You'll hae a praw place, Margery.'' 
 
 " There's plenty o' meat and maut, Ewen, put 
 it's a sair downcome from ta Macdonald's 
 kitchen. Forty shentlemen o' his ain name sat 
 down ta meat tay by tay wi' him na to speak o' 
 ta gillies and caterans," 
 
 " Put ta Lady o' Macdonald was ill ta please, 
 and there's na lady here you'll pe minding, Mar- 
 gery." 
 
 " Ye'll speak o' what ye can ken apout, Ewen 
 MacAllister. Young een are quicker than auld 
 een, and ta Lady o' Assynt — "
 
 124 THE LAST OF THE MACALLISTERS. 
 
 Just here a. half-grown lad rushed into the 
 kitchen, and in a breathless voice said, " Ye are 
 ta send a pot o' clear proth and a cake o' wheat 
 flour ta Luckie McLeod, and tat instanter, ta 
 lady says sae." 
 
 "Then ye'll tak' it yoursel', Tugald; a' our 
 men are at ta herring-poats." 
 
 " Hersel' hasna time ; she's awa on a far mair 
 important pusiness." 
 
 " Wha sent ye ? Now dinna lee ! " 
 
 "Ta Cameron lady." 
 
 " Then I say ye'll tak' it ta the lady." 
 
 " Hersel' has ither wark on hand. She's fol- 
 lowing a laird, and she isna at ony lady's peck 
 and pow." 
 
 " Let him gang, Margery," said Ewen ; " I'm 
 for ta clachan, and I'll tak' ta pread and proth 
 for Luckie. She's a far-awa cousin o' mine." 
 
 " Then you'll gang yer ways, ye loon ! Out 
 o' my kitchen, and let na ta grass grow under 
 yer feet as ye gang." Then, turning to Ewen, 
 she said, " If ta lady is na there ye'll na leave ta 
 pread and ta proth, Ewen. Thae McLeods are 
 a' for themsel's. I hae nae skill o' siccan folk." 
 
 ''' Hersel' is ta lucky lad," chuckled Ewen, as 
 he went towards the clachan with his basket.
 
 THE FIRST CLOUD OF THE STORiM I 25 
 
 " Now she'll speak wi' ta lady, and she'll gie her 
 ta letter, and there's nana will pe as wise as we 
 are." 
 
 Ewen had seen Grace during her visit at 
 Strathleven, and Grace recognized at once the 
 MacAllister tartan on the messenger. 
 
 " I thank you, MacAllister," she said, with a 
 pleasant smile ; " this is a grace deed on your 
 part, I suppose." 
 
 " Partly sae, my lady. Margery had nae lad 
 to send, and hersel' had a message for you, my 
 lady ; " and Ewen gave her the letter, he mean- 
 while busying himself with Luckie McLeod and 
 the dainties he had brought her. 
 
 In a few minutes Grace called him. Even 
 Ewen could see that the letter had powerfully 
 affected her. Her face was flushed, and her 
 eyes gleamed, and her hands trembled violently, 
 as she folded the paper and pinned it carefully 
 in her dress. 
 
 " What is your name ? " 
 
 " Ewen." 
 
 " You are a MacAllister? " 
 
 " God pe thanket ! yes, my lady." 
 
 " Where is the person who sent this letter ? " 
 
 " In her ain shieling, my lady."
 
 126 TEE LAST OF THE MAC A LUSTERS. 
 
 " Do you know him ? " 
 
 " Not when he doesna want to pe known." 
 
 " Is he a gentleman ? " 
 
 " There is nae petter shentleman in ta High- 
 lands." 
 
 " Do you know the maiden's well in Assynt 
 Wood?" 
 
 " I hae kent it fifty years." 
 
 " Tell the person who sent you that I will 
 meet him there at four o'clock this afternoon." 
 
 " Py yoursel', my lady, he said tat." 
 
 " Ewen, if I were your daughter would you 
 let me go by myself to the maiden's well to- 
 day?" 
 
 " 'Teet wad she, and gie ye a blessing for 
 going." 
 
 " That is sufficient ; good-bye," and Grace 
 put a gold piece in Ewen's hand. 
 
 " Keep yere gold, my lady, ye will hae a gude 
 way to spend it ere long. Ewen MacAllister 
 ne'er took service-money yet. Hersel' wadna 
 tak' it fra her ain chief." 
 
 When Ewen got back to his cot he found a 
 great change in his young laird. Angus had 
 dressed himself with the utmost care, and Ewen 
 thought he had never seen him look so com-
 
 THE FIRST CLOUD OF THE ST0E3I 12/ 
 
 manding and so comely. In this opinion Ewen 
 was probably correct, for Angus had thrown 
 himself heart and soul into a great and danger- 
 ous enterprise, and its influence over him was 
 distinctly perceptible. There was thought on 
 his brow, dignity in his carriage, and he seemed 
 to have crossed at a moment that invisible yet 
 decided line dividing the light-hearted, careless 
 boy from the thoughtful and earnest man. 
 
 " Ta lady will be at ta maiden's well at four 
 o'clock ta-day." 
 
 Angus nodded, and continued to pace up and 
 down the small room. He was full of thoughts, 
 but Grace made but a small part of them. Still, 
 the care he had taken with his toilet showed 
 that he was not insensible to the fact that he 
 was going to meet a lovely woman under very 
 peculiar and romantic circumstances. 
 
 Meanwhile Grace went back to Assynt with 
 all speed, and, once in the barred seclusion of 
 her own room, she again opened and read her 
 letter : 
 
 •' Dearest Niece, — You know what you 
 know, and the person who brings you this letter 
 will tell you what it is not safe to write. If he
 
 I 28 THE LAS T OF THE MA CA LUSTERS. 
 
 is tall and dark, and bonnie beyond ordinar, and 
 gies you the silver rose you wot of, then you 
 may trust him with all your heart and counsel, 
 and do whatever he tells you. Dear lassie, if all 
 wins that ought to win, then we will meet, you 
 ken where, and that sooner than some folks will 
 like. " Your loving aunt, 
 
 Janet Kilspendie." 
 
 There was a strange, bright smile on Grace's 
 face as she read, and her after-movements had 
 an unusual alertness, for this message touched 
 something far deeper than the artificial polish 
 and acquired control of a refined education. 
 She went up and down her room humming 
 snatches of forbidden songs, she clapped her 
 small, rosy palms softly and proudly together, 
 and she dressed and redressed herself half a 
 dozen times before it was necessary to leave 
 Assynt for the trystipg-place. 
 
 When at length she found herself within its 
 cool, shady depths Angus was already there. 
 She could scarcely have seen him first under 
 circumstances more calculated to make a pro- 
 found impression on her imagination. He 
 looked like some splendid vision of a romantic
 
 THE FIRST CLOUD OF TEE STORM. I 29 
 
 knight in an enchanted wood. She was scarcely- 
 conscious of anything but this feehng of un- 
 reality until Angus had fallen on one knee before 
 her and placed in her hand Aunt Janet's token, 
 the silver rose. 
 
 It acted like a talisman on the girl. She 
 kissed it passionately, and, giving her hand to 
 Angus, said, " Oh, sir, pardon me, Bonnie 
 Dundee wore this rose at the Pass of Killiecran- 
 kie, and it pinned a hero's plaid at Sheriffmuir, 
 For the sake of one we do not name I am here. 
 Speak to me without doubt and with as much 
 speed as may be." 
 
 " We are strangers. Miss Cameron," 
 
 " Nay, but we are workers in one grand causC' 
 The white rose of Stuart between us makes us 
 friends." 
 
 Angus looked in the lovely, glowing face and 
 caught its fervor. He felt all the new and subtle 
 charm of loveliness, culture, and enthusiasm 
 combined, and to him this white-robed maid, 
 standing among the grasses and ferns, seemed 
 of more than mortal beauty. 
 
 He led her to a large rock, and, sitting down 
 by her side, took from his breast a parchment. 
 Over this parchment the two young heads were 
 8
 
 130 THE LAST OF TUB MACALLISTERS. 
 
 eagerly bent, and when they raised them it was 
 to flash back into each other's eyes the gather- 
 ing passion of an overmastering and dearly- 
 loved object. 
 
 " See ! " cried Angus ; " I shall go to Lewis 
 first and rouse the Mackenzies, and they will 
 send the fiery warning through Uist and Barr, 
 and call out the Macdonalds. While they do 
 this I will go through Reay's Land and tell the 
 Mackays and the Sinclairs, and they will let the 
 Ross men and the Athol men know when and 
 where the wrong is to be righted." 
 
 "And what am I to do ? " 
 
 "You are to manage the McLeods ; they 
 have been without a leader for long, and are 
 taking to lowland ways ; and you must find a 
 sure messenger to the McLeans, and to Glen- 
 garry of Clanronald. The McLeods are doubt- 
 ful, but you can go unsuspected through their 
 shielings and see how many of them will draw 
 the sword for Prince Charles." 
 
 " They will all do it." 
 
 " How do you know this ? " 
 
 " I know what sort of songs their wives sing, 
 I know what king the children are taught to 
 pray for. One of the Stuarts married a McLeod
 
 THE FIRST CLOUD OF THE STORM. I3I 
 
 in James the Third's reign. I shall remind them 
 of that, and what highlandman will fight against 
 his own kin ? " 
 
 " That is a good claim on them." 
 
 " There is none better. The Stuarts have 
 married into many highland clans. All these 
 clans are sure to come out. But when I have 
 fulfilled the commission I have been honored 
 with, to whom shall I send word ? " 
 
 Half smiling in Grace's lifted face, he said, 
 
 " To Angus MacAUister." 
 
 A great wave of color rushed over her cheeks 
 and lily-white throat. " I am very glad," she 
 answered, softly, and then both remained a mo- 
 ment silent. 
 
 Grace was the first to break the embarrass- 
 ment. " What hope is there of the Grants ? " 
 she asked. 
 
 " Very little. They will side with the German 
 laird ; he has gold, and the Grants are 'getting 
 folk.' " 
 
 Grace had risen with her last question, and 
 turned her face towards Assynt. She put out 
 her hand frankly. " We are confederates, Mac- 
 AUister."
 
 1 3 2 TUB LAST OF THE MA CA L LISTERS. 
 
 " Conspirators some will call us, Miss Cam- 
 eron ; all the same, we are — " 
 
 " Friends ! " 
 
 And Angus doffed his bonnet and kissed the 
 hand Grace offered him with a homage and re- 
 spect as sincere as he could have given to the 
 fairest Stuart that ever wore a crown. 
 
 Their interview had scarcely lasted half an 
 hour, and had been in the depths of Assynt 
 Wood, but it had not been unobserved, Angus 
 had parted with Isabel Gordon in anger, and 
 she had at first abandoned herself to weeping 
 and despair. But a passive sorrow ill suited her 
 passionate disposition. In half an hour she was 
 following, with the instinct of her race, his foot- 
 steps. She watched him enter Ewen's cot, and 
 waited patiently until she saw him leave it. The 
 abandonment of his gypsy dress and his thought- 
 ful appearance filled her with a presentiment of 
 trouble. She was afraid to speak, but she cau- 
 tiously followed him to his tryst at the Maiden's 
 Well. 
 
 Not daring to approach near enough to over- 
 hear the conversation, she had been tortured by 
 what she saw. The splendor of Angus's dress, 
 his bright, eager looks, his gift of the silver rose,
 
 THE FIRST CLOUD OF THE STORM. 133 
 
 had all been observed. But these were not the 
 things at which she was most hurt. "He never 
 bent the knee to me," sighed the girl ; " and the 
 way he kissed the tips of her fingers, as if she 
 were Queen of Scotland ! He shall never touch 
 my lips again ! Did not Borzlam tell me that a 
 hedge-sparrow should not mate with an eagle ? 
 I wish I were dead ! I wish I were dead ! But 
 there's others will die before me? " and, thus 
 muttering, she went slowly back to the tents, 
 jealousy, revenge, and love at that moment di- 
 viding all her thoughts. 
 
 Angus watched Grace out of sight, and then, 
 replacing his bonnet, stood still a moment to 
 consider where he should go next. His heart 
 turned to Strathleven. Indeed, he would have 
 gone there the previous night if he had not been 
 notified of the presence of Fraser. He feared 
 the lawyer would discover his plans, and use his 
 influence to prevent the MacAllister and Hector 
 joining them. But there comes a limit to all 
 prudences, and Angus felt now that, Fraser or 
 no Fraser, he must see his father and brother. 
 Every step he took towards them made him 
 more homesick, and surely the laird must have 
 had some instinctive perception of his darling's
 
 134 THE LAST OF THE MACALLISTERS. 
 
 approach. For all the afternoon he had been 
 strangely restless, going repeatedly to the win- 
 dow which overlooked the only approach to the 
 castle, and gazing earnestly down the mountain 
 path. 
 
 Just at sunset he uttered a joyful cry. Like 
 the father in the tenderest of all stories, while 
 his son was yet a great way off he saw him, and, 
 hastily putting on his bonnet, he went with 
 rapid strides to meet him. Father and son came 
 into the courtyard together, their arms thrown 
 over each other's shoulders, and then arose a 
 clamor such as had not been heard since that 
 night when the laird and Angus had brought 
 home the bills and charges against MacAUister 
 and made a bonfire of them. 
 
 Hector, who had gone a short distance with 
 Fraser on his homeward journey, returned an 
 hour later, and as soon as he entered the court- 
 yard he knew that Angus had come. There 
 was an element of stir and bustle, a sound of 
 laughing and quarrelling, a clash and clatter 
 that was never heard in Strathleven unless An- 
 gus was at the bottom of it. 
 
 His mind had been full of Angus and of Grace 
 all day. He had talked the matter over again
 
 THE FIRST CLOUD OF THE STORM. 135 
 
 with Fraser, and found him stubbornly set in his 
 opinions, and he had been thinking of Grace at 
 the very hour when she was plotting treason 
 with his brother. But, heart-broken as he was, 
 he never dreamed of blaming Angus. It was a 
 joy to him to know the lad had come home, and 
 he met him with something more than his usual 
 tenderness, for Angus had been long away, and 
 Fraser had given him some mysterious hints 
 about a danger he would need much love and 
 wisdom to keep him clear o'. 
 
 Even in that first embrace Hector perceived a 
 change in his brother. He watched him earn- 
 estly awhile, and then turned away with a sigh. 
 Angus had become a man. He would no more 
 yield to his authority and return his caresses 
 like a child. In that eight months' absence he 
 had gone far beyond Hector in many respects, 
 and Hector was not slow to perceive this. 
 
 Generally on his return from any journey, 
 long or short, Angus had been full of story and 
 information. The clansmen had always gath- 
 ered in the great hall, and heard with delight the 
 recital of his pleasures and quarrels and advent- 
 ures. But this time he had nothing to say, al- 
 though, in reply to a direct question from Hec-
 
 136 THE LAST OF THE MACALLISTERS. 
 
 tor, he acknowledged to having been, not only 
 in Edinburgh, but England and France. 
 
 Hector noticed also that there had been some 
 correspondence between the laird and his son of 
 which he was ignorant. It was evident in seve- 
 ral remarks which the old chief unintentionally 
 made, and then hurriedly passed over ; and, in 
 spite of all the excuses a patient love could 
 make. Hector felt hurt, and retired very early to 
 his own room. His heart also was aching sorely 
 about Grace Cameron, and just at that hour life 
 seemed to the young heir of MacAllister a very 
 knotted and tangled skein. 
 
 About midnight he awoke out of a sleep, and 
 saw Angus standing at his bedside. He felt him 
 grasp his hand, and heard him say, 
 
 " Get up, Hector. I have much to say to 
 you, and I cannot sleep till it is said. Did I not 
 see the angry thought in your heart to-night 
 because of my silence? But it is come to this, 
 dear brother, I have work to do I dare not chat- 
 ter about." 
 
 "Not to me?" 
 
 " To you my heart always speaks." 
 
 " Oh, Angus ! my dear Angus ! Now where
 
 THE FIRST CLOUD OF THE STORM. 13/ 
 
 have you been these eight months ? Many an 
 anxious hour I have spent for you." 
 
 " But Jasper was here, three, yes, four times, 
 and told you I was all right." 
 
 " Forgive me, Angus, but a gypsy's all right 
 is often all wrong." 
 
 " Let that be. I have been in France. Know 
 you what for?" 
 
 " I am afraid to guess." 
 
 " No need of guessing, I will tell you. I have 
 seen him, and spoken with him !" 
 
 " Whom ? " But Hector's lips were set so 
 tight that the question was hardly audible. 
 
 " His Royal Highness Prince Charles Ed- 
 ward ! " 
 
 Hector leaped to his feet; he could not 
 speak, but he lifted the hand of Angus, and 
 pressed it tightly, almost fiercely. 
 
 "Do you wish to know more, my brother? 
 Such knowledge is dangerous, you know that." 
 
 " Oh, Angus ! What is he like ? " 
 
 " Like a king. He has inherited through his 
 mother the chivalry of Poland, through his 
 father the valor of Scotland, If you saw him, 
 Hector, you would do what I did," 
 
 " What, Angus, my dear lad ? "
 
 138 THE LAST OF THE MACA LUSTERS. 
 
 " You would kneel and say, ' My prince, here 
 is my sword and life ! ' " 
 
 " And where else have you been ? " 
 
 " I have carried secret tokens to Moidart and 
 Stewart and Macdonald. Now ask me no more, 
 the news is not my own." 
 
 " Only this, does our father know ? " 
 
 " I had not moved without him. He has sent 
 me gold and counsel through Jasper.'' 
 
 "Alas! alas!" 
 
 " Do not fear, Hector, we have friends beyond 
 counting, men and women. There are chiefs 
 serving King George whose wives will raise 
 their clans at the first shout for King Charles ; 
 but I am speaking beyond myself. " 
 
 Hector readily dropped a subject he was by 
 no means prepared to speak about and, indeed, 
 his own affairs gave him far more anxiety than 
 those of Charles Stuart. After a pause he said, 
 however, " Are the Gordons with you ? " 
 
 " Carruple Gordon is here." 
 
 " And Isabel ? Do you still love her ? " 
 
 " She has led me the life of a slave ; I have 
 born-^^ much from her, but I will not bear a 
 rival." 
 
 " Has she given you one? "
 
 TUE FIRST CLOUD OF THE STORM 139 
 
 "^es, a kinsman of her mother's, a man from 
 Bohemia ; a savage with eyes Hke a polecat, and 
 long, lithe hands that looked as if they ached to 
 strangle you. He says his mother came from 
 the far east, and he has a box full of her wrought 
 gold and silver ornaments. He gave Isabel a 
 necklace yesterday. I would not buy her love 
 if I had the gold, and if I had gold I have a bet- 
 ter use for it. Let her keep this kinsman out 
 of my reach, I always finger my dirk when I see 
 his scornful, crafty face." 
 
 " Don't soil your dirk with pagan blood, 
 Angus. If Isabel prizes not your love, there are 
 other women, fair, pure women, of your own 
 race and faith." 
 
 " I saw such a one to-day. Hector. Oh, how 
 lovely she was ! And she is with us, heart and 
 soul. His royal highness told me in France 
 that she, above all others, could touch the 
 McLeods." 
 
 " The McLeods ! You don't mean, you can't 
 mean Miss Cameron ? Her father is a whig, 
 always has been one." 
 
 " Ah ! but Mistress Kilspendie, her lunt, 
 brought up Miss Cameron, and Kilspendie 
 House has been the gathering -place of the Ja-
 
 I40 TEE LAST OF THE MACALLISTERS. 
 
 cobites for thirty years. It is well known that 
 Prince Charles has been there in disguise more 
 than once. Yes, Hector, I mean Miss Cam- 
 eron." 
 
 " And you have seen her ? " 
 
 " I saw her for the first time to-day." 
 
 " Where ? " 
 
 " She met me at the maiden's well." 
 
 " She met you ?" 
 
 " Why not. I had a token for her that she 
 knew well. Had I known that she was so beau- 
 tiful I had not scorned at Fraser so about her, 
 but it is o'er late now." 
 
 "Why too late?" 
 
 "Because I cannot change my love like a 
 glove that does not fit me. Isabel sits close to 
 my heart, and though she pains me often, I 
 would not have her farther away. But yonder 
 lady of Assynt is good and fair as an angel ; she 
 would suit you bravely. Hector, she is over 
 good for me. Tell Fraser he can draw his 
 papers out, and put your name in instead of 
 mine." 
 
 " Miss Cameron will be likely to choose for 
 herself, I think." 
 
 " That she will ! She has taken her own side
 
 TITE FIRST CLOUD OF THE ST0Ii3I. I4I 
 
 in politics, and the lassie who is bold enough to 
 choose the king she likes best will choose the 
 husband she prefers. Cameron and Fraser both 
 may put that in their pipes and smoke it. But 
 good night, Hector, we will talk more of these 
 things hereafter, only I could not sleep with a 
 shadow between us." 
 
 " Good-night, Angus ; there shall never be 
 aught but love between us."
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE RUBICON PASSED. 
 
 "Wi' highland bonnets on our heads. 
 
 And claymores long and clear, 
 We're going to fight for Scotland's right 
 And the Young Chevalier. 
 Oh, Charlie is our darhng, our darling, our darhng ; 
 Oh, Charlie is our darhng, the Young ChevaUer ! " 
 
 If there were wakeful, anxious hearts in the 
 cabtle, there was at least one wakeful, anxious 
 heart in the gipsy camp, Isabel lay in the door 
 of her tent, watched the stars, and planned 
 schemes of revenge on the lady of Assynt and 
 Angus. She was aware, that, for various rea- 
 sons, personal and political, her cousin had been 
 a sojourner with her people in disguise, and 
 though she owned no king but the king of her 
 own tribes, and cared nothing about the claims 
 of either Charles or George, she perceived that 
 Angus was in her power if she chose to betray 
 him. 
 
 This, however, was an extreme measure, to 
 
 which she was by nature and education equally 
 (142)
 
 TRE RUBICON PASSED. 1 43 
 
 averse, he had broken bread in their tents, and 
 trusted them implicitly; he had been open- 
 hearted and open-handed to all, and never 
 scorned to acknowledge his kinship to the Ro- 
 many. And supposing she could bring herself 
 to inform against him, her father and uncle 
 would despise her for such treachery. It seemed 
 the easier plan to make Miss Cameron suffer, 
 and she never doubted but that in striking her 
 she would strike Angus also. Her grand- 
 mother, a shrewd, wicked old woman, would 
 help her. She hated the Gorgios as a race, and 
 always resented the influence Angus possessed 
 over her family as so much honor and obedience 
 taken from her personally. 
 
 Even while these thoughts were in Isabel's 
 mind the old gypsy rose gently from her pallet 
 of bracken and cane and crouched in the tent 
 door beside Isabel. 
 
 " Did you know I was thinking of you, grand- 
 bebee ! " 
 
 " Child, your heart called mine Do not put 
 a leaf before your mouth. Speak plainly, what 
 is it you want ? " 
 
 Then Isabel, in a low voice, told all her 
 wrongs. Angus had made a plaything of her
 
 144 THE LAST OF THE MACALLISTERS. 
 
 love while he had been compelled to stay in 
 their tents, but as soon as he was back at Strath- 
 leven he had cast away his Romany dress, he 
 had quarrelled with her about such a trifle as a 
 present from her cousin Borzlam, and he had 
 met this lady of his own race by stealth at the 
 holy well ; for Isabel, in her ignorance and 
 superstition, believed that the meeting there was 
 for the purpose of giving some occult sanctity to 
 their vows. 
 
 The old gypsy listened with set lips and eyes 
 that gleamed like dull fires. Her hands 
 twitched convulsively, and they were even more 
 evil-looking hands than Borzlam's, for the fin- 
 gers were flat and bony, and broad at their ex- 
 tremities, like the heads of deadly serpents, fin- 
 gers that betrayed a crawling and cruel dispo- 
 sition. 
 
 " You have made an idol of this Gorgio long 
 enough," she hissed. " Now let me give their 
 pleasure to my ten fingers, and he will never 
 make a fool of a Romany chi' again." 
 
 " It is not him I would hurt, grandbebee, it is 
 the girl. You have charms and poisons, slow 
 and sure, that will wear health and beauty away.
 
 THE RUBICON PASSED. 145 
 
 T would see her grow old and ugly ; to kill her 
 is to build your own gallows, grandbebee." 
 
 " Child, I fear nothing, my time has not yet 
 come. Take comfort, for I have heard your 
 trouble. They that wrong you, wrong me, and 
 it is evil for all who wrong Chuzka.'' 
 
 No more was said. Chuzka sat brooding 
 with her head in the palms of her hands, and 
 Isabel lay down and slept heavily until the sun 
 was risen. Her deep slumber probably soothed 
 her passion, for when she awoke her dominant 
 desire was to see Angus, only to see him once, 
 and give him an opportunity to explain what 
 seemed so cruel and treacherous. She arranged 
 her long black hair carefully, she put on all the 
 ornaments he had given her and the dress that 
 he liked best, and took the forest road to Strath- 
 leven. 
 
 She met no one until she reached the little fir 
 wood half-way down the mountain where she 
 had first seen Angus. Among its dark shadows 
 she meant to hide until he passed, for pass he 
 must, since it was the only road to and from the 
 castle. She sat down wearily and sadly under- 
 the trees, and began to eat the oaten cake she 
 had brought with her. A little brown squirrel 
 9
 
 14^ THE LAST OF THE MACALLISTERS. 
 
 and some robins came to her fearlessly and 
 picked up the crumbs she gave them. She 
 intended to look beautiful, but she could not tell 
 how very beautiful a picture she made as she 
 sat almost motionless, listening for coming foot- 
 steps. 
 
 But when the footsteps came they did not 
 come from the road, but from the wood, and, 
 lifting her eyes, she saw laird Hector watching 
 her with a smile both kindly and admiring. 
 
 " Good-morning, my pretty kinswoman." 
 
 She was not Hector's kinswoman, but it 
 pleased her greatly to be called it, and she held 
 out her hand almost gratefully. 
 
 " Sit still, Isabel ; you make an exquisite pic- 
 ture. I could fancy you some old Roman wood- 
 nymph." 
 
 " I am but a poor Romany girl."' 
 
 " You are my fair cousin Isabel. Are you 
 trysted here with Angus ?" 
 
 " Angus keeps other trysts, Laird Hector. 
 The Romany girl is a flower to be worn and 
 then flung away for a fresher one. ' 
 
 " You wrong Angus, Isabel. He loves none 
 but you. He never loved any woman before 
 you."
 
 THE RUBICON PASSED. M7 
 
 She listened gratefully, and kissed with a 
 child-like earnestness the hand which Hector 
 had given her. 
 
 " Do not fret for no cause, little one," he said, 
 sadly ; " there are sorrows enough before us all, 
 I fear. Angus is full of cares, and may soon be in 
 great danger. Do not send him away with a 
 sore heart, Isabel. If you have had a quarrel, 
 give him a kiss ere he go, lest you weep all 
 your life afterward for not doing so." 
 
 Then he sent a pleasant message to Jasper 
 and Carruple, and with a smile, the memory of 
 which afterwards pierced her heart like a sword, 
 he left her. For he thought if she was waiting 
 for Angus the lovers would like to make their 
 peace and their adieus alone. 
 
 Still, he kept within sight of the mountain 
 path, for he also wished to see Angus. Their 
 conversation of the previous evening had left 
 him in a very unsettled mood, and MacAUister 
 himself had been unusually thoughtful and 
 silent at the breakfast table. He waited an hour, 
 and then returned to the castle. There was still 
 no sign of Angus's appearance, and the table 
 had been cleared. Had he gone again without 
 a word of farewell?
 
 148 THE LAST OF THE MACALLISTERS. 
 
 " Angus is late, father." 
 
 " Early, you mean, son Hector. He left the 
 castle at dawn." 
 
 " Where has he gone ? " 
 
 " It will be better to ask no questions for a day 
 or two, Hector, but he has gone among friends, 
 and he will be back with friends before long. 
 You have a big plea to settle with yourself now, 
 my son, and neither I nor any other must preju- 
 dice the cause. Judge for yourself; you will be 
 chief of MacAllister some day not very far off. 
 Look at all sides, and judge for yourself." 
 
 " It would be an ill judgment that put us two 
 apart, father. I am your son, and I am your 
 clansman. My sword is yours, my chief! " 
 
 " Then my blessing on you, Hector. But go 
 your ways now, and leave me alone, I have 
 much to think on, and many things to put in 
 order, for I may be going a longer journey than 
 I set out for. But there is One above who 
 knows all things." 
 
 Then Hector remembered poor Isabel watch- 
 ing and waiting in the wood, and he went back 
 to tell her that Angus had left the castle at 
 dawn, and was probably far on the road to Stor- 
 novvay by this time. The girl's eyes filled with
 
 THE RUBICON PASSED. 149 
 
 tears, and her pale, olive-tinted face flushed to 
 the deepest scarlet. Then she rose silently, 
 folded her plaid around her arms and bosom, 
 and, with a haughty movement, would have 
 passed Hector without a word. 
 
 " Isabel, I see you think I am deceiving you, 
 but, upon the honor of a highland gentleman, I 
 tell you the truth." 
 
 " Let me pass, MacAllister ! The honor of 
 highland gentlemen indeed ! Some other pledge 
 would be better." 
 
 Hector let her pass without further effort to 
 soothe or explain what he judged to be only a 
 lovers' quarrel, for he had far more serious things 
 for meditation than the fanciful wrongs of a love- 
 sick girl. He scarcely thought of Isabel again 
 after he noticed that she took the seaward road to 
 Assynt Wood. It was a much longer walk, but 
 then he thought, with a ready sympathy, " She 
 hopes to see the boat in which Angus is." 
 
 Isabel had no such hope ; she knew that if he 
 sailed at dawn he was far over the Minch by 
 that hour. Her object was a very different one. 
 She had frequently seen Miss Cameron taking 
 her morning ride with her father on the firm, 
 yellow sands of the cool loch, and she wanted to
 
 150 THE LAST OF THE MACALLISTERS. 
 
 feed her jealousy with a sight of the fair face so 
 hateful to her. When she reached the sands no 
 human thing was visible, and she muttered to 
 herself, "An evil day and a day of disappoint- 
 ments.'' 
 
 Then she removed her shoes and stockings, 
 and, keeping just within the water-line, walked 
 rapidly onward, the rippling waves constantly 
 washing her finely-arched instep. As she neared 
 Assynt she saw a boat waiting at the little jetty, 
 and a party leaving the castle gates ; there were 
 two gentlemen and a lady. One of the gentle- 
 men was Cameron, the lady was his daughter 
 Grace, and the other gentleman was Angus. 
 
 A few passionate words in the Romany tongue 
 escaped her, and she stopped a moment as if 
 uncertain whether to proceed or turn back. The 
 indecision was but momentary. She went on 
 rapidly, splashing the water in an idle, childish 
 way to relieve the storm of anger within her. 
 She had plenty of time to observe the party as 
 they approached her, to see Grace's fluttering 
 white robes and soft brown curls, and the almost 
 caressing bend of Angus's dark, handsome head 
 toward her. 
 
 By the time they met the girl's soul had
 
 THE n UBICON PASSED. I 5 I 
 
 transfigured her face, it was in a blaze of splen- 
 did, scornful beauty. She lifted it with a proud 
 consciousness to Angus, and said, mockingly, 
 " May your poor cousin read your fortune, 
 Laird ? It is an ill journey you take, and much 
 ill to come of it," 
 
 " Go back to the tent, Isabel.'' 
 
 " It is an ill journey you take, ill you leave 
 behind you, and ill you go to meet ! " 
 
 " Isabel ! " 
 
 She cowered before the anger she had raised, 
 for Angus left his companions and confronted 
 her with a scorn which made hers childish and 
 contemptible. His eyes were more than she 
 could bear, her own fell before their blazing 
 anger. He touched her almost contemptuously, 
 and Isabel threw off the touch as if a serpent 
 had stung her. 
 
 " Go back to the tent. Why will you meddle 
 in what you cannot understand ? If you linger 
 a moment or say a word I will never see you 
 again. Can you not trust me ? " 
 
 His face softened as he spoke, and a tender 
 gleam stole into his eyes. Her wild, vivid 
 beauty touched him keenly, and the dark, pas- 
 sionate girl had never been dearer to him than
 
 152 THE LAST OF THE MACALLISTERS. 
 
 at that moment. But Isabel could see nothing 
 but the look of aversion on Grace's face, and the 
 polite tolerance on that of Cameron. 
 
 " You are a traitor," she said, in a low, fierce 
 whisper. The wretched girl meant only that he 
 had been a traitor to her and to her people, but 
 Angus gave to her words a wider meaning. He 
 turned on his heel with a look of the utmost 
 scorn, and in a defiant voice said, " Go, and do 
 your worst. If I could fear you I should de- 
 serve to die." Then he made haste to rejoin 
 Cameron and Grace, who had walked slowly on 
 towards the waiting boat. 
 
 Isabel stood where he had left her for a mo- 
 ment, as if stunned, then she fled like a hunted 
 deer to the tents in Assynt Wood. Jasper and 
 Carruple were lazily smoking their pipes. Borz- 
 1am lay on the grass gazing up into the trees, 
 and her mother and grandmother sat within the 
 shadow of the tent with folded hands. She 
 slackened her pace as she approached the tents, 
 walked into the midst of the group, and then 
 told, in low and rapid words, the story of her 
 wrong. 
 
 The women said little, the men nothing at 
 all, but they exchanged looks that meant more
 
 THE R V EICON PA SSED. 153 
 
 than words could express. Isabel had thrown 
 herself on the ground between her mother and 
 grandmother, and lay sobbing, with her head on 
 the latter's lap, while the old gypsy continuously 
 passed her long braids through her thin, yellow 
 hands, as if she were using them as a charm. 
 
 After long silence she rose and said, 
 
 " I am an old woman, and years have told me 
 many things. The men who suffer their women 
 to be shamed and wrong are accursed ! May 
 they die before their time ! " 
 
 She sat down again, and no one answered her 
 in words ; but, after another long pause, Carru- 
 ple rose and laid his large, keen knife at her 
 feet ; and Borzlam, with a low laugh, took from 
 his pocket a piece of thin, strong cord, and 
 placed it beside Carruple's knife. Then Jasper 
 spoke. 
 
 " It is fools who take their revenge in a hurry. 
 It is fools who run into danger when there are 
 others who will do their work for them. A 
 woman in love is a woman who has lost her 
 judgment. There is some mistake. This man 
 and I have stood together in the face of death, 
 and he never failed me. I say there is a mis- 
 take. If there is not, am I not of Isabel's blood?
 
 154 TJIE LAST OF THE M A CA LUSTERS. 
 
 No one could strike deeper than I. But why 
 sliould we do hangman's duty ? He has done 
 that against the man in London which will put 
 his head over Carlisle Gate, If he has wronged 
 Isabel, I will sell him to his enemies, so shall we 
 have, both gold and revenge." 
 
 But Borzlam laughed low and scornfully, and 
 looked at the old woman. She answered his 
 look with one as cruel as his own. The evil 
 hearts understood each other. 
 
 And yet, dark as circumstances looked against 
 Angus, he was not to blame. He had risen 
 before light that morning, and, after a long con- 
 versation with his father, had gone at dawn to 
 Ewen's cottage, and eaten his breakfast with his 
 foster-father, as he gave him manifold orders to 
 fulfil. A boat had been ordered to wait for him 
 in a little bay half a mile south of Assynt, but 
 when he arrived there no boat was waiting. 
 
 As he paced anxiously up and down the 
 shore, Cameron and his daughter rode slowly 
 towards him. Cameron was going to pay his 
 daily visit to his herring-fleet, and Grace, as was 
 her custom, rode with him. Cameron, as we 
 have seen, was easily attracted by personal 
 beauty, and before they came within speaking
 
 THE li UBICON PA SSED. I 5 5 
 
 distance of Angus he had exclaimed enthusiasti- 
 cally, 
 
 " What a splendid carriage ! What a fine 
 form ! What a noble face ! If he is a stranger 
 in—" 
 
 " He is no stranger, father. I saw him yester- 
 day. He is Laird Angus MacAllister." 
 
 Cameron looked pained and sorry, for a lack 
 of good company at Assynt was his great want. 
 Ere, however, he could make any further 
 remark, Angus was by his side, and, bonnet in 
 hand, had introduced himself in such a charm- 
 ing fashion that Cameron had insisted on his 
 coming up to Assynt, and waiting there the 
 arrival of his boat. The temptation was every 
 way too great to be resisted, and thus it hap- 
 pened that a mere act of courtesy became to 
 Isabel the strongest confirmation of her lover's 
 infidelity. 
 
 Both in the gypsy camp and at Strathleven 
 Castle the beautiful month of June passed 
 anxiously and wearily away. The very air was 
 full of rumors that no one could trace to au- 
 thentic sources. It was whispered that the Men 
 o' Moidart were all in arms, and that the gov- 
 ernment had sent an extra regiment into that
 
 156 THE LAST OF THE MACALLISTERS. 
 
 disloyal district. A day or two later it was 
 confidently asserted that the red- coats had been 
 cut to pieces near Loch Lochie by the Macdon- 
 alds of Keppoch. 
 
 At Strathleven there was a restlessness and a 
 note of preparation which Hector found it too 
 easy to understand. The laird went up and 
 down among his men, and it was evident they 
 were preparing for some martial enterprise. 
 The sheep and cattle were left to themselves, 
 and the MacAUisters were congregated in little 
 camps all along the strath. The drone of the 
 bagpipe and the rattle of steel blended with the 
 shouts of men and the lilting songs of the 
 women in the hay-fields and the crowded cla- 
 chan. 
 
 At length, one night in July, as Hector was 
 moodily walking about his own room, he heard 
 from courtyard and from strath a mighty shout. 
 It flew along the valley, and was thrown back 
 in ten thousand echoes from the surrounding 
 hills. Descending rapidly into the castle yard, 
 he found there a scene of the wildest excite- 
 ment. MacAllister stood in the centre of a 
 crowd, with his bonnet lifted above his head, 
 and pointing to the mountains and the far
 
 rilE R UBICON FA SSED. 1 5 7 
 
 islands lying off the coast. A fiery light was 
 rapidly encircling them, and as every fresh 
 mountain-peak grew bright it was hailed with 
 frantic cries of joy and wild clashing of arms. 
 The two pipers were blowing as they had never 
 blown before, the women were running hither 
 and thither, most of them with their children 
 lifted shoulder high. Some were sobbing, some 
 laughing, some singing ; thus all seemed to 
 have lost control over themselves. 
 
 Hector had no need to ask a question. As 
 soon as they saw him standing by his father's 
 side the enthusiasm found an articulate cry. 
 
 " The king's come ! the king's come ! " 
 
 MacAUister looked doubtfully at his son, and 
 a sudden silence fell on the clansmen near. 
 Hector had not yet by word or deed publicly 
 identified himself with the movement. But the 
 suspense did not last a moment. Hector 
 stepped proudly forward, threw up his bonnet, 
 and shouted, " MacAllisters all ! God save the 
 king!" 
 
 The Rubicon was now passed, there was no 
 longer any doubt or hesitation. It was King 
 George or Prince Charles, and men espoused 
 their favorite's cause with a passion of which we
 
 1 5 8 THE LA ST OF THE 31 A CA LUSTERS. 
 
 can have no conception. Cameron had no 
 objection to Jacobitism as a sentiment, but he 
 hated it as a fact, the more so that his opinions 
 had been adopted as the result of religious con- 
 victions, and were in direct conflict with those 
 of the clan Cameron, who were devoted adher- 
 ents of the house of Stuart. 
 
 When he heard of the stand that the MacAllis- 
 ters had taken he was greatly distressed, and he 
 wrote to the laird and earnestly requested a 
 friendly interview. MacAllister in his joy and 
 pride, could now afford to be magnanimous to 
 the puir Whig laird, and he bade him bring 
 Miss Cameron and drink the grace-cup with 
 him the next night, especially as their mutual 
 friend, Andrew Fraser, would be at Strathleven. 
 
 The invitation pleased him well. If Fraser 
 would join him they might perhaps prevent 
 MacAllister and his sons committing any overt 
 acts of rebellion against the house of Hanover ; 
 and as for the shouting, that was no treason in 
 a man's own courtyard, while the warlike 
 preparations might well be excused in a country 
 where all loyal men would soon be called upon 
 to defend their homes. 
 
 Grace was particularly excited over the invi-
 
 THE R UBICON PASSED. 1 5 9 
 
 tation ; she knew from Ewen that Angus would 
 certainly be at home, and she had good news to 
 tell him. Never had she dressed herself with 
 such surpassing richness and taste, and in this 
 she was not actuated by womanly vanity half so 
 much as by an enthusiastic feeling that she was 
 doing honor to the cause she loved. 
 
 Cameron noticed her rich toilet and her un- 
 usual excitement, but he attributed it to the 
 pleasure she felt in meeting Hector again. As 
 for himself, the visit, though he had solicited it, 
 gave him great uneasiness. It might bring him 
 under suspicion with the government, and it 
 might end in a quarrel instead of a reconcilia- 
 tion. Still, Eraser was to be there, and he 
 hoped much from the presence of the cautious 
 lawyer. 
 
 Fraser was at Strathleven when Cameron and 
 his daughter arrived, and he met them at the 
 gate. 
 
 " Gude-day, Camerons, or bad-day, I might as 
 weel say it. I hope you hav na lost your five 
 senses. Strathleven's gane clean daft, laird and 
 gilly, mither and bairn." 
 
 " I am on the side I always was, Fraser." 
 
 " A vera safe side," answered the old lawyer.
 
 l6o THE LAST OF THE MACA LEISTERS. 
 
 with an irrepressible tinge of contempt. Then, 
 turning quickly on Grace, he said, "And you, 
 my young lady? " 
 
 " I have come to my senses, all of them, Mr. 
 Fraser," and she looked him steadily in the face 
 with eyes that gleamed and sparkled like stars. 
 
 "Humph!" he answered, gruffly, but never- 
 theless he looked admiringly at her, and added, 
 " You need na glower sae defiantly at me. I'm 
 no the man to say a bonnie woman is wrang, 
 nae matter what side she tak's." 
 
 " Come awa, Fraser," cried the laird, who was 
 in exuberant spirits ; " come awa. Ye aye had 
 the fault o' hanging round the ladies. Cameron, 
 I'm mair than glad to see you. We'll hae this 
 night thegither if we ne'er hae anither," 
 
 The laird was in high good-humor to begin 
 with, but the sight of Angus with Grace and 
 their evident interest in each other's society 
 gave him a sort of triumph over Cameron that 
 added a very keen relish to his satisfaction. 
 Cameron also noticed, and that with some as- 
 tonishment and anxiety, that Angus and Grace 
 had wandered off together to the extreme edge 
 of the castle wall, and that they leaned long over
 
 THE RUBICON PASSED. l6l 
 
 it in earnest conversation. He would have been 
 more astonished if he had heard its tenor. 
 
 " Glengarry will be there. The McLeans are 
 sure. The Men o' Moidart and Clanranald will 
 rise to a claymore." 
 
 " And the McLeods ? " 
 
 " Not so sure. But the men who don't go 
 will have little peace in their homes ; their 
 wives will make their hearthstones hotter than a 
 battle-field. I met Grant the other day, and I 
 asked him which king he was for." 
 
 " ' I have not decided,' he said, ' but I think 
 Charles Stuart has little prospect of getting his 
 crown back.' " 
 
 " What did you say ? " 
 
 " That Prince Charles had more hope of his 
 crown again than Grant of Grant had of getting 
 back his dirk. His face grew black as midnight, 
 but I courtesied and smiled and said, 'It is in the 
 belt of Angus MacAllister, you know. Will 
 you make an expedition to recover it ? ' " 
 
 While they were laughing over this incident 
 Hector joined them. Something in Grace's 
 manner to Angus had given him hope. She 
 looked at Angus admiringly as a sister might 
 look at a brother, but she shyly glanced at Hec- 
 
 10
 
 1 62 THE LAST OF THE 3IACALLISTERS. 
 
 tor. She chatted freely with Angus ; she bluslied 
 and answered in monosyllables if Hector spoke 
 to her. And Hector liked her blushes and em- 
 barrassments, and the short silences they shared 
 together were sweeter and dearer than the gay- 
 est words she gave Angus. 
 
 Cameron and Frazer came to the dinner-table 
 very anxious. MacAUister had stubbornly re- 
 fused to speak about political matters. But after 
 dinner he suddenly changed his mind. Without 
 a word to his sons and guests he went into the 
 court and gave an order. Very soon there was 
 the noise of gathering men, the clash of steel, 
 and the stimulating music of the pipes. 
 
 Frazer became restless and excited. " Stop 
 that noise, will ye, MacAUister ? A man is na 
 accountable for what he says and does when ye 
 stir his blood up wi' steel." 
 
 " I'll stop it if ye'U come into the court with 
 me, and I'll show ye a sight that will mak' you 
 and Cameron fifty years younger." 
 
 They all followed the chief, Cameron some- 
 what protesting, but submitting himself to Fra- 
 zer's guidance. The soft, sweet July gloaming 
 glorified the valley and the great hills, rising one 
 above another till they touched the skies. The
 
 THE R UBICON PASSED. 1 6 3 
 
 yard was full of highlandmen armed at every 
 point. There were eight hundred men, standing 
 in ranks close and firm as a granite wall. Mac- 
 Allister looked at them proudly, and, followed 
 by Fraser, Cameron, Grace, and his sons, stood 
 bareheaded in the centre of his clan. 
 
 Cameron looked round uneasily, but Fraser 
 whispered, " We are fair trapped; I would na 
 try to win through this circle o' steel for a' the 
 kings in Scotland, and they say there's twa of 
 them. Tak' it easy, man." 
 
 " Gentlemen," said MacAllister, bowing to his 
 guests and then to his clansmen, " you hae asked 
 me more often perhaps than was quite polite 
 what side I am for. Listen, then, heaven and 
 earth. I and my sons are for Prince Charles. 
 Heart and hand, siller and land, and life itsel' ! " 
 
 A shout that filled and thrilled the whole 
 strath answered him. 
 
 •' If any man among you is for King George, 
 let him step out and lay down his arms. None 
 shall blame him or do him harm. He is wel- 
 come to go to his shieling and his herding 
 again." 
 
 No man moved.
 
 164 THE LAST OF THE MACA LUSTERS. 
 
 " The MacAUisters are all King Charles's men, 
 then ? " 
 
 " Eh ! are we. Heart and hand, siller and 
 land. Life itsel'." 
 
 Then Hector, stepping forward, said, " Mac- 
 AUisters, you have my pledge. I follow my king 
 and my chief, my father and my clansmen. I 
 draw my sword for the royal Stuart, Laird 
 Angus will tell you he is worthy of your faith." 
 
 And when Angus lifted his bonnet and came 
 to the front there was a new and powerful emo- 
 tion. Old men that had been but stern and ear- 
 nest relaxed into smiles, and the younger were 
 hardly restrained from breaking ranks and 
 crowding round him. There was a magnetism 
 about the youth that drew all hearts to him. 
 
 " Thee has seen ta prince ! " shouted Ewen ; and 
 Angus, taking up the cry said, "Yes, I have seen 
 Prince Charles Stuart, and spoken with him. 
 And through me Prince Charles trysts you to 
 meet him on the nineteenth of August in the 
 vale of Glenfinnin. Will you be there ? " 
 
 A great shout of assent was the answer, and 
 before its echo had ceased Grace Cameron 
 walked proudly forward. She raised her head, 
 and then bent it east, west, north, and south.
 
 THE RUBICON PASSED 1 65, 
 
 "I am for Prince Charles," she said, in clear, 
 sweet tones that thrilled every heart. " He has 
 no truer subject than Grace Cameron.'' 
 
 " God bless you, lassie? If Hector and Angus 
 come home again, ye may tak' your choice o' 
 them. MacAllisters ! your homage. It is 
 honor enough to bend to beauty and worth ! " 
 And the old chief lowered his bonnet till it 
 touched Grace's little shoe. 
 
 " I maun get out o' this ; I maun get out o' 
 this," said Fraser, restlessly, " Miss Grace, ye 
 hae done a vera foolish thing, but I honor you. 
 I mean it's vera imprudent indeed. MacAllis- 
 ter, ye maun break your ranks, I'll no be coerced 
 into going for Charlie. It's finable by law, Mac- 
 Allister, and me and my friend Cameron pro- 
 test, as much as we are able, against these pro- 
 ceedings." 
 
 " Ye are a very poor protestor, Andrew Fra- 
 ser;" but MacAllister smiled, and, taking an 
 arm of each of his guests, he begged them to 
 come back to the castle and spend an hour with 
 him. " It may be our last together in this 
 world," he said, solemnly ; " we'll part friends, 
 please God and you, gentlemen." 
 
 Cameron was greatly moved ; deeper than all
 
 1 66 THE LAST OF THE MACALLTSTERS. 
 
 his prejudices, perhaps deeper than his convic- 
 tions, lay that strong vein of sentiment and 
 romance rarely wanting in a true Scotchman. He 
 respected his daughter for daring so publicly to 
 avow her sentiments. Her beauty and enthusi- 
 asm, touched by the air of chivalry and the soft 
 glow of the summer evening, had given to her 
 countenance a strange beauty. He had not been 
 able to refuse her a glance which assured her 
 of forgiveness, if not of approval. 
 
 " MacAllister," said Fraser, fretfully, " you are 
 na fit company for sensible men. If I had na 
 kept my senses ye wad hae had John Cameron 
 as daft as yoursel'. I saw the light in his een. 
 And whatna for should we fash our heads anent 
 kings ? They dinna do it about us." 
 
 " But you'll have to choose one side or 
 t'other, both of you. Choose to-night, Fraser." 
 
 " ril do naught sae daftlike. I'm clear for 
 being on the same side wi' the hangman, sae I'll 
 wait and see what side he is to tak', and then 
 I'll decide. Cameron can do as he likes, but if 
 he'll take a wise man's advice he'll gang his 
 ways out o' temptation. Strathleven is just the 
 maist unhealthy place I ken o' at the present 
 time."
 
 THE RUBICON PASSED. 1 6/ 
 
 Cameron, smiling, rose and offering his hand, 
 said, " MacAllister, kings did not make us 
 friends and kings shall not part us. We may 
 pull together in many a boat, though we don't 
 sail together in this one, and I must get Grace 
 home. She fell completely under your spell, 
 and nae wonder ; I cannot blame her. But I 
 must take her home before she says words that 
 may be set to my account hereafter." 
 
 He walked to the window and looked out. 
 Grace stood in the centre of the MacAllisters, 
 Hector and Angus by her side. The young 
 men were rapidly cutting off knots of white rib- 
 bon, and Grace as rapidly pinning them on to 
 the plaided warriors, who each in turn knelt be- 
 fore her. 
 
 Cameron bit his lips and turned away. Fra- 
 ser said, " I dinna care. She's a noble lass, and 
 she's right too, that is, I mean, she thinks she's 
 right. I wish I was forty years younger, I 
 would mak' her Mistress Andrew Fraser if I 
 was the biggest chief in the North Countrie ! " 
 
 '"Deed in that case you would have had to 
 do battle with me," said MacAllister. " I would 
 hae had her in those days, if I had taken a 
 thousand men and carried her away. Cameron,
 
 l68 THE LAST OF THE MACALLISTERS. 
 
 if we never meet again, there's my hand. He is 
 a gude man that is father to a lassie like her. 
 God bless her! " 
 
 And few men ever went to rest so dissatisfied 
 with themselves for doing right as John Came- 
 ron did after that parting dinner at Strathleven.
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THE gypsy's revenge, 
 
 "Sweet is revenge, especially to women." 
 
 • If we do meet again, why, we shall smile, 
 If not, why, then this parting was well made." 
 
 Cameron's dissatisfaction in the morning was 
 of a different kind. He perceived that he had 
 placed himself in a very suspicious position, and 
 the course which he knew to be the most prudent 
 was one which he disliked exceedingly to take. 
 To remove himself and Grace from all communi- 
 cation with the rebels and to show himself in the 
 company of those well affected to the house of 
 Hanover was now his obvious duty, but he 
 feared to leave his nearly completed industries 
 to the mercy of lawless men, who would only 
 be too glad of any pretext for plundering a 
 stranger. Prudence urged him to leave for Edin- 
 burgh at once; interest urged him to delay a 
 while and see whether Prince Charles was really 
 able to inaugurate a campaign. 
 
 While he was walking anxiously about his gar- 
 
 (169)
 
 I/O THE LAST OF THE MACA LUSTERS, 
 
 den pondering these questions, on the following 
 morning, he saw Fraser approaching him, and no 
 sight could at the time have been more welcome. 
 
 "Cameron,"' said Fraser, shaking his head 
 dolefully, "we went a daftlike gait yestreen, sae 
 I hae come to tak' counsel wi' you. Twa heads 
 are better than ane, even if they be fools' heads." 
 
 " I was thinking I ought to leave for Edin- 
 burgh to-day, but here comes Grace. Now, 
 Fraser, hold to what you know to be wise, and 
 do not let her throw a glamour over your good 
 sense." 
 
 " Ow, ay ! It tak's mair than a woman to be- 
 guile Andrew Fraser. Gude-morning, Miss 
 Grace. You are a sight for sair een and sair 
 hearts too, I trow. If you grow any bonnier I'll 
 hae to tak' an oath no to look at you." 
 
 " I am very suspicious of a lawyers flattery, 
 Mr. Fraser. What do you want me to do, make 
 promises, or sign papers, or go back to the house 
 and leave you and father alone to plot treason 
 against me? " 
 
 " No, indeed. I was only going to ask you to 
 go your ways peaceably to Edinburgh as fast as 
 possible. It is na safe for decent folk to be 
 north o' Dunkeld thae days. I'm going to set
 
 THE G YPS YS RE VENGE. I / I 
 
 mysel' in the eyesight o' the Lord President 
 Forbes, I must stand right wi' him." 
 
 " Stand right in your own eyes and your own 
 conscience, Mr. Fraser. If you do that you will 
 get ready for a march to Glenfinnin. You are 
 trysted there, as well as the rest of the Frasers." 
 
 " Then, young lady, I'll keep no such tryst. I 
 hae far mair important affairs to attend to. Let 
 me tell you, you laid your bonnie head down on 
 the block yestreen. If Charlie* fails, and fail he 
 must, you'll find yoursel' atween four walls, and 
 then I'll hae the fleiching and pleaing to get you 
 out." 
 
 " Grace, we must forget the folly of last night, 
 and you must leave at noon with me for Edin- 
 burgh." 
 
 " Dear father, that is simply impossible. I am 
 ill ; I have a dreadful headache, and how can I 
 leave without attending to the house and my 
 packing and the servants, besides a score of 
 things in the village? " And Grace, under the 
 influence of a sudden and severe paroxysm of 
 pain, was compelled to leave the room. 
 
 " Now, Fraser, what am I to do? " 
 
 *Charlie Is not a mere fiimiliar form, but the Erse, or Gaelic fomi 
 of Charles.
 
 1/2 TEE LAST OF THE MACALLISTERS. 
 
 "You'll hae to go your5>el' and leave her for 
 a few days. She has made up her mind to hae 
 brain fever or paralysis if it is necessary, and that 
 auld Dr. McLeod is as big a Jacobite as hersel'. 
 He'll say whatever she bids him. Mak' as gude 
 terms as you can wi' her. Eh ! but she's a bon- 
 nie woman, and a bonnie woman must hae her 
 way." 
 
 " I thought it took more than a woman to 
 beguile Andrew Fraser." 
 
 " Hout, man ! I'm no beguiled. I ken just 
 what the lassie is going to do, I ken just what 
 she has been doing. She has some little affairs 
 of her own to sort. You need na worry anent 
 them. There is as much love as loyalty in 
 them. That's the way wi' women-folk, they aye 
 mix their politics and their love-affairs together. 
 Give her a few days, she'll be ready for Edin- 
 burgh in a week at maist." 
 
 " Then I shall have to come back for her, and 
 the journey — " 
 
 " The journey is hard, and you would rather 
 not ; but when men hae gotten women-folk in 
 their hames they hae to tak' many a step they 
 would rather not. A' things have their price, 
 Cameron."
 
 THE G YFS Y ' S RE VEiXGE. 1 73 
 
 " You think I ought to go to-day ? " 
 
 " Go at once. Yonder matter o' last night 
 will be carried by some bird o' the air. I should 
 na wonder if Duncan Forbes asks you a' par- 
 ticulars as soon as he claps his een on you." 
 
 " Then he will ask what I shall not tell. No 
 one should force me to betray the friend whose 
 bread I have broken." 
 
 "And they'll find it hard wark to get evidence 
 out o' an auld lawyer like me. I'm no an 
 observant man ; and I had drunk mair Farintosh 
 than was prudent that night. I would na be a 
 competent witness. Maybe I'll hae to tak' an 
 admonition fra' the kirk session, but they are 
 mercifu', ony way, they air mair mercifu' than 
 quarter sessions and the Duke o' Cumberland." 
 
 So Cameron went alone to Edinburgh, it hav- 
 ing been finally arranged that Fraser should 
 wait for Grace. " And I'll stay maistly at 
 Assynt," he said confidentially to Cameron, " sae 
 you can keep a quiet mind. I'll tak' a look at 
 what you hae been doing, and I'll walk down 
 among the McLeods and try to keep them at 
 their herring-fishing. I think I ken the way to 
 get round them." 
 
 " If you could only get round their wives you
 
 1/4 THE LAST OF THE MAGA LUSTERS. 
 
 would do a better business. The McLeods are 
 only half-hearted Charlie's men. Their women 
 buckle on every broadsword." 
 
 '• Ah, weel i I was aye noted for my skill o' 
 women-folk. I'll gang through the clachan ; 
 they'll no out-talk me, nor buckle my broad- 
 sword on, I'se warrant." 
 
 " How stands MacAUister this morning ? " 
 "Just in the maist dangerous place he can 
 find to stand on. He called me a puir bit whig 
 this morning, and I'll no tak' that from ony- 
 body." 
 
 " But you are a whig ? " 
 
 " Ay, and I'm a sinner, a meeserable sinner 
 likewise, but I dinna let folks call me names." 
 
 " What excuse has he for rising ? George 
 was a lenient master to the MacAllisters. Their 
 fine was not a heavy one, and they have been 
 out in every rising." 
 
 " They dinna acknowledge King George's 
 right to fine them a bawbee, sir. MacAUister 
 said to me this vera morning, ' Fraser, we high- 
 land gentlemen can stand cold, hunger, thirst, 
 pain, poverty, anything but a master. We'll hae 
 nae little German cock-laird telling us what we 
 shall do and what we shall not do. Charles
 
 TUE G YPS Y'S BE VENGE. 1 7 $ 
 
 Stuart is our clansman and our born chief, the 
 lawfu' head o' our clans, and we'll obey him. 
 Next thing to having our ain way is to die fight- 
 ing for it/' 
 
 *' The MacAllisters are an old and honorable 
 family." 
 
 " The auldest and the maist honorable in the 
 world according to themselves, Cameron, and 
 that is what troubles me. I begged Hector to 
 tak* nae active part in the rebellion, sae that he 
 might ony way keep the land thegither and 
 carry on the family." 
 
 " But Hector would never do that ? '* 
 
 "No, he just touched his sword and laid his 
 hand in his father's hand. Then auld MacAllis- 
 ter was that conceited and triumphant and ag- 
 gravating that I could na thole him ony langer ; 
 sae I cam' my ways o'er here, and here I'll stay 
 till Miss Grace gets o'er her headache and has 
 all her braws packed," 
 
 Fortunately Grace's headache did not termi- 
 nate either in brain fever or paralysis. She was 
 able to go through the village next day and 
 quietly undo all that Fraser had effected with 
 the women of the McLeods. There was not 
 one of them that she could not move with Ikt
 
 1/6 THE LAST OF THE MA CA LUSTERS. 
 
 own enthusiasm, and many a stalwart McLeod 
 dreaded more than the perils of the deep or the 
 bloody battle-field his wife's scornful looks, her 
 contemptuous pitch of the fishing-nets, and her 
 scathing words. 
 
 Fraser hung on the outskirts of Strathleven, 
 but he did not go up the mountain. He knew 
 that Laird Angus was riding nearly night and 
 day, and that he was constantly bringing in par- 
 ties of men from the mountainous recesses of 
 Ross and Caithness. The youth's ardor, and 
 his martial spirit drew men from the lonely val- 
 leys, from the depths of the Reay forest, and 
 from the almost unknown hamlets on the low, 
 sandy beach of Dornoch. 
 
 Prince Charles had promised to meet the 
 clans at Glenfinnin on the 19th of August, and 
 it was now drawing near that date. For several 
 days Fraser had heard of parties going south- 
 ward under their various leaders, and he was 
 getting very impatient to leave a neighborhood 
 so dangerous and so suspicious. 
 
 " We maun win awa to-morrow. Miss Grace," 
 he said, positively ; " the country is full o' high- 
 landmen, and when they are out for a fight they
 
 THE GIPSY'S REVENGE. 1 77 
 
 are out on a frolic, and I dinna care about being 
 invited to join them.'' 
 
 " Very well," said Grace, with a sigh ; " the 
 MacAllisters leave in two days ; we can have 
 their escort a part of the way." 
 
 " Not for a' the gowd in Scotland ! Ye dinna 
 trap an auld fox like me that way, young lady. 
 I'll no march a step wi' Charlie's men, nor I'll 
 no let you do it, either." 
 
 " Mr. Eraser, you are not talking to a Perth 
 jury." 
 
 " Miss Grace, forgive me. I'm losing my 
 senses, I believe. I'm no used to women-folk ; 
 dinna get up beyond my humble acknowledg- 
 ment. I'm your maist obedient servant, and I'll 
 do whatever you tell me to do, only if it wad 
 please you no to put my puir auld head in peril 
 o' the gallows." 
 
 " Very well, then we will go to-morrow. And 
 what way we will go I shall decide when to- 
 morrow comes. To-day we will visit Strath- 
 leven, and bid them all a God-speed on their 
 journey. You are not afraid, are you ?" 
 
 " Me afraid ! And what for, I wonder ? I 
 hae papers MacAUister must sign before he 
 leaves, and I trust a Scots lawyer may gang any-
 
 178 THE LAST OF THE MACALLISTERS. 
 
 where wi' a last will and testament in his hand," 
 
 So Grace dressed herself with extreme care 
 and beauty, and rode over to Strathleven. It 
 was amusing to see how proud he was of her, 
 how gallant and attentive to all her small pleas- 
 ures and comforts. 
 
 ** It's a sair charge to hae a bonnie lassie on 
 your heart night and day, Miss Grace," he said ; 
 "but it has its compensations, I'll allow that." 
 
 " Thank you. 1 wonder if Lord Hector is at 
 home ? " 
 
 " Hearken ! Is na that his voice ? " for just 
 above them a strong, clear voice was singing, 
 
 " Come through the heather, around him gather, 
 You're a' the welcomer early ; 
 Around him ding with a' your kin. 
 For wha'll be king but CharHe ? 
 Come through the heather, around him gather, 
 Come Ronald, come Donald, and a' thegither, 
 And round him cling with a* your kin — " 
 
 " For wha'll be king but Charlie ? " joined in 
 Grace, with a passionate melody that brought 
 Hector instantly into sight, and that greatly at 
 his peril, for, waving his bonnet, he scrambled 
 down the steep mountain-side to meet them. 
 
 They all went to Strathleven together, Hector
 
 THE G YPS Y'S RE VENGE. 1 79 
 
 walking beside Grace's pony, and Fraser follow- 
 ing the young couple, and indulging himself 
 with many a sarcastic, though good-humored, 
 speech. MacAllister met them with great de- 
 light ; he loved Grace, and he had quite forgot- 
 ten his quarrel with Fraser. But there was a 
 solemnity and gravity about him which was 
 natural and becoming in a chief, who was not 
 only leaving, perhaps forever, his home, but who 
 was also taking with him more than a thousand 
 men to share the dangers of the enterprise. 
 
 Fraser and the laird had much business to 
 transact, and they remained together all day. 
 Towards sunset Fraser sought out Grace and 
 Hector. He found them leaning over the castle 
 wall, watching the stir and listening to the music 
 and calls of the camps in the valley. 
 
 ** Bairns," he said, tenderly, " I maun stay wi' 
 my auld friend to-night. He has been saying 
 many things to me that have broken up bygane 
 sorrows, and I canna leave him, and I would nae 
 leave him for a' the men in Scotland, nor lasses 
 either; sae, Hector, you'll convoy Miss Grace 
 safely to Assynt. I maun stay wi' MacAllister, 
 and forbye I want to see Angus, and he's no 
 hame yet. But Ewen says he'll be hame sure
 
 l80 THE LAST OF THE MACALimTERS. 
 
 and certain, sae I'll stay, and you maun be ready 
 by daylight in the morn. I'll be at Assynt for 
 you. I wonder where Angus is? " 
 
 Evven could have told him, but Ewen did not 
 choose to do more than give a positive assurance 
 of his young chiefs arrival, for Ewen knew that 
 Angus was with Isabel Gordon, and though he 
 would never have admitted that he disapproved 
 of any lady Angus honored, he did seriously ob- 
 ject to her in his own heart. " Put there's na 
 need to say aught," he thought; "many a lassie 
 is loved tat is na wedded." 
 
 Angus had returned early in the evening, and 
 had been told by Ewen of the visitor to Strath- 
 leven, but though he wished to see Grace very 
 much, he could not bear the thought of leaving 
 Isabel, perhaps forever, with anger between them. 
 He did not go to the tents, for he knew that Jas- 
 per and Carruple were away, and he had no 
 desire to meet Borzlam, so he sent Ewen to bid 
 Isabel meet him at the Maiden's Well. 
 
 The spot he selected pleased the poor girl 
 very much. It was not a spot sacred, in his 
 memory, to another woman, or he would not be 
 waiting for her there. She dressed herself care- 
 fully, and went, almost trembling, to meet him.
 
 THE G YFSY'S RE VE.XGE. 1 8 1 
 
 For she knew that her beauty was dimmed with 
 tears, anger, and neglect; and she had not seen 
 Angus since that morning on the sands, when 
 she had called him a traitor, and he had so 
 sternly ordered her out of his presence. 
 
 She had even ceased to hope that he would 
 see her again ; she knew that he was going to 
 danger, and perhaps death, and what was a poor 
 Romany girl to a man whose heart was fixed 
 on high enterprises and matters of kings and 
 crowns ? So she had at last become outwardly 
 passive, and her grandmother had watched pa- 
 tiently this mood, feeling sure that one of despair 
 and revenge would follow it. 
 
 Neither did Isabel's actions, after Ewen's visit 
 to their tent, deceive her. She knew from the 
 light in the girl's face, from her careful toilet and 
 her long absence, that she had gone to meet 
 Angus. With tottering steps she sought out 
 Borzlam, who was grooming his favorite horse 
 fifty yards away. 
 
 " My son, that outrageous, infamous Gorgio 
 has sent for your cousin, and your cousin has 
 gone to him. What is the use of words ? Have 
 there not been enough already? "
 
 l82 THE LAST OF THE M A CAL LISTERS. 
 
 " Mother, there have been too many. It will 
 be a dark night, and no time comes better." 
 
 " You have a wise head. See your hand fail 
 not." 
 
 Borzlam laughed low and wickedly. 
 
 " Take your sleep ; I dreamed of blood last 
 night. Mother, I make my dreams come true." 
 
 She looked significantly at him. He put his 
 hand to his throat, and then on his hip; and, 
 with a parting nod, she left him, and went and 
 sat down in the tent door, with a patience that 
 contemplated its reward. 
 
 While this interview was going on, Isabel had 
 neared the Maiden's Well. Angus was sitting 
 on the rock where he had sat with Grace, wait- 
 ing for her. He had been thinking of the vari- 
 ous ways in which Isabel angered him, and of 
 what he should say to her about her peculiar 
 faults. But when he lifted his eyes, and saw her 
 pale, penitent face, he forgot all but his great 
 love for her. He stood up, and cried " Isabel ! " 
 and in a moment she was nestling in his arms, 
 all faults forgiven and forgotten. 
 
 That night he spoke to her as he had never 
 spoken before. He told her that, different as their 
 stations were, she was the one woman on earth
 
 THE GYPSY'S REVENGE 1 83 
 
 Tor him. Parted by an accident of birth, they 
 were, all the same, twin souls, and no other love 
 should ever divide his heart w'th her. Then he 
 pointed out to her that, though her aunt had 
 gone straight from the tent to the castle, times 
 had greatly changed, and, therefore, before he 
 married her, she must prepare for her position. 
 And Isabel, usually so proud and tenacious of 
 all her Romany customs, agreed cheerfully to 
 all he said, and promised whatever he asked. 
 
 Never had they been so happy together ; and 
 when Angus, ere they parted, put on her finger 
 a splendid betrothal ring, Isabel believed herself 
 to be the most happy of women. During this 
 interview Angus had made her understand the 
 risks of the enterprise in which he was engaged. 
 
 " I shall make you a countess, Isabel," he 
 said, " or I shall fall upon the battle-field. If I 
 die. Lord Hector will always be your protector 
 and friend." 
 
 " Lord Hector! " she said, gently. "Ah, how 
 good and patient he was with me that dreadful 
 morning ! I shall never forget how sorrowful he 
 was for me ; but if you die, my lord, my love, 
 Isabel will never leave her tent again! " 
 
 The interview, a very sweet and a very bitter
 
 1 84 THE LAST OF THE 3IACA LUSTERS. 
 
 one, was lengthened out as long as possible, then 
 Isabel went weeping to the tents, and Angus 
 took the road to Assynt. He thought it possi- 
 ble he might meet Fraser and Miss Cameron 
 returning, and, if so. Hector would doubtless be 
 with them, and they could be companions home. 
 But when he reached the seaside he saw no sign 
 of any one, so he suddenly changed his mind, 
 and turned towards Strathleven, 
 
 It was then quite eight o'clock, and he met 
 Hector and Grace at the foot of the mountain. 
 Something in his own heart told him that it 
 would be kindness to plead fatigue, and not 
 return again, and he found that Grace and Hec- 
 tor accepted his apology very pleasantly. So 
 he went up to the castle, and finding Fraser and 
 his father shut up together, he sat down on the 
 wall to dream of Isabel and the future. 
 
 Hector and Grace had taken the seaward road 
 to Assynt, and, in many a weary, painful hour 
 afterwards. Hector remembered that witching 
 ride upon the cool, hard sands. The waves 
 made a scarcely audible murmur, and the soft, 
 gray light was just sufficient for him to see the 
 love-laden eyes drooping and flashing at his side. 
 As they neared Assynt they slackened rein, and
 
 THE G YPS Y S RE VENGE. 1 8 5 
 
 a great silence fell between them. Neither 
 seemed able to break it; they rode without a 
 word through the scented garden, dismounted, 
 and passed together into Grace's sitting room. 
 
 " Farewell ! " whispered Hector, as he stood 
 holding her hands, and then he was conscious 
 that a tear had dropped upon his own. He 
 could no longer control himself; he gave voice 
 to his heart, and, in words which came he 
 knew not how or whence, he told the love which 
 had so long possessed him. And then he knew 
 that Grace was weeping at his side, and that he 
 was kissing away her tears, and calling her by 
 the dearest names. 
 
 He had again to say farewell, but this time it 
 was a farewell so mingled with bliss and hope 
 that he could rise above its sorrow — "and we 
 shall meet in Edinburgh within a month if all 
 goes well," he whispered. 
 
 "All must go well," she answered; and then 
 with a sudden movement turned away. " For I 
 will not watch him out of sight," she thought ; 
 " ill-luck follows those who are watched out of 
 sight, and they come back no more." 
 
 It was then quite dark, for the clouds hung 
 heavy and near, and it was evident that a thun-
 
 I 86 THE LAST OF THE 3IACALLISTERS. 
 
 derstorm was at hand. But Hector saw no 
 clouds or coming storm; to him all was light 
 and joy, and he put his hand proudly and impa- 
 tiently on his sword. 
 
 "For her sake," he thought, and if there had 
 been a lingering doubt in the young soldier's 
 heart about the justice of his cause, he forgot it 
 in that hour, " Oh, how beautiful she was ! How 
 good ! How loving ! No man had ever been so 
 happy. He must tell Angus." And then he 
 remembered that he had yet a long ride to take. 
 
 With the thought came a sudden chill, a ter- 
 ror, a nameless something that he had never 
 felt before. It was as if his own wraith had 
 flown back to him, crying, "Beware!" He 
 looked involuntarily behind him, and saw a 
 dark, crouching object. The next moment he 
 was only sensible of a fierce, choking sensation, 
 of being dragged from his horse, and of a sharp, 
 fiery pain, which he knew instinctively was the 
 lunge of a knife. 
 
 At this very moment Angus, sitting on the 
 castle wall, musing on coming events, fancied 
 he heard a wild, piteous voice cry, " Attgus ! 
 Angus MacAllister! " It seemed to come from 
 everywhere and from nowhere. It was no mor-
 
 THE 6 YPS Y S RE VENQE. 1 8 J 
 
 tal voice, he never thought it was. It filled the 
 dull, heavy air with its clamor and wail, but only 
 Angus heard it. He shivered from head to foot, 
 but he set his whole soul to listen. A strange 
 fear came upon him, as of some impending dis- 
 aster. Again he seemed to hear a low, sobbing, 
 inarticulate cry, like the dying effort of a soul 
 struggling for life. Was it Hector that needed 
 him? 
 
 In a moment Angus leaped to his feet and 
 called Ewen, " Six men, fully armed, Ewen, 
 are wanted. There is mischief abroad, we must 
 go to the help of Lord Hector." 
 
 They had scarcely reached the scath ere it 
 began to thunder and rain as it only can do 
 among the mountains, but Angus walked 
 steadily on. He knew not where he was going, 
 but, impelled by an overpowering instinct, went 
 forward, and his men trusted him implicitly. 
 The rain fell more heavily and the storm beat 
 more wildly as they approached the sea. Sud- 
 denly AngUs's quick ear detected a sound that 
 he knew on the sands. 
 
 " Listen, Ewen ; what is that ? " 
 
 " ' T is hard to hear aught at all through ta 
 hurly-purly, but hersel' thinks it pe a horse."
 
 188 THE LAST OF THE MACALLISTERS. 
 
 "It is;" and the next moment a horse, half 
 wild with terror, approached the party, and 
 solicited their attention with an almost human 
 persuasion. 
 
 " It is Hector's horse, Ewen ; and there is 
 blood on his nose ; I feel it. Oh, my brother ! 
 my brother ! " 
 
 There was a deep, fierce cry from the men, 
 that seemed to be literally cut in twain by a 
 shrill, sharp shriek that evidently came from 
 some woman's heart torn by agony and fear. 
 Angus stood still. 
 
 Another and another shriek, each louder and 
 wilder than the other, and with the last a vivid 
 flash of lightning that showed him a woman 
 flying along the sands and almost upon their 
 party. She saw them also, and cried out, "Fly 
 for the MacAUisters ; fly for your lives ! " 
 
 " MacAllisters are here!" shouted Ewen, for 
 Angus was stricken silent by the new horror 
 that had forced itself upon him, the woman was 
 Isabel ! 
 
 " Oh, my lord ! " she screamed, taking hold of 
 Angus ; " oh, my Lord Hector ! They have 
 slain Angus, they have slain Angus ! He lies 
 bleeding to death at the point below."
 
 THE GIPSY'S REVENGE. 1 89 
 
 " Isabel, I am here." 
 
 " Angus ! Angus ! But they said it was you, 
 Alas, then it is Lord Hector, the kind, the good 
 Lord Hector ! " And she fell heavily against 
 Angus. 
 
 " Isabel ! Isabel ! be brave for my sake. You 
 must not faint now. You must show us where 
 Hector lies. Haste ! haste ! " 
 
 She took him by the hand, and even his 
 mighty step could scarce keep pace with her. 
 Ewen and the men followed as best they could, 
 being guided by the shouts of Angus as he went 
 on. In a few minutes they had reached the 
 poor prostrate body, lying there on the wild, 
 wet sands, beat upon by wind and rain, and 
 almost within a yard of the advancing tide. 
 
 Angus could not speak, his grief was unutter- 
 able and mixed with stormy thoughts of venge- 
 ance. Still, he remembered at once what must 
 be done. " Here is my plaid, Ewen ; carry 
 Lord Hector in it. Oh, sorrow-woven plaid to 
 be my brother's bier! '' 
 
 The men laid the young lord in the plaid, and 
 so, as in a hammock, gently bore him home, 
 making as they went a lament that mingled with 
 the wild storm, and as they neared Strathleven
 
 190 THE LAST OF THE MACALLISTERS. 
 
 wailed loud and shrill above it. MacAllister, 
 sitting with Fraser, was the first to hear it. He 
 was in the middle of a sentence, but he turned 
 pale to the lips, and, almost running to a case- 
 ment, flung it wide open. 
 
 " It is the coronach ! the coronach of the Mac- 
 AUisters ! Fraser, it is a chief's coronach ! " and 
 then, in a fainting, deathlike whisper, " Angus I 
 Angus ! " 
 
 Fraser too had started up, and now he went 
 as tenderly to MacAllister as a woman could 
 have done. " MacAllister, it is the hand o' 
 God, and you'll no shrink from under it. What- 
 ever your sorrow is, come and meet it hke a 
 man that has a God to help him." 
 
 They went slowly out together, meeting as 
 they did so the clansmen and women running 
 into the great hall from every quarter, and 
 there, on its wide hearthstone, lay Lord Hector, 
 his first-born, his heir, his pride. 
 
 A great groan went up from the chief, and 
 Angus held him against his breast and tried to 
 comfort him. Meanwhile a poor girl, with 
 clothing torn and dripping, had knelt down 
 beside the body and was feeling with breathless 
 eagerness the heart. " He is not dead ! he is
 
 THE YPS Y '5 RE VENGE. 1 9 1 
 
 not dead ! " she cried, and the next moment she 
 had forced open his lips and poured into them a 
 few drops from a vial she plucked from her 
 breast. 
 
 In another moment she was crying out for 
 herbs and bandages, and Angus was obeying 
 her orders with a rapidity and confidence that 
 inspired every one else. No surgeon could 
 have stayed the bleeding or dressed the wound 
 with more skill, and every one kept silence and 
 watched her movements. Twice, thrice, she 
 repeated the drops she had at first given Kector, 
 and at the third time he faintly sighed and 
 moaned. 
 
 " He will live," she said — " he will live if you 
 will suffer me to watch and nurse him ;" then, 
 falling at the feet of MacAllister, she said, " My 
 lord, your grief is my grief You know me, do 
 not send me away." 
 
 " Poor Isabel. Stay, my daughter, and save 
 Hector if you can. What say you, Angus ? " 
 
 " Hector is safe with Isabel, she and I will 
 watch him together to-night." 
 
 Then the hall was quietly cleared, and Angus 
 and Isabel sat down by the unconscious man.
 
 192 THE LAST OF THE MA CAL LISTERS. 
 
 while the chief and Fraser moved to the other 
 end of the room. 
 
 Angus then pointed to a deep, purple mark 
 round Hector's neck, and whispered " Borzlam !'' 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 He set his lips, and, pointing to the wound in 
 the side, said " Carruple ? " 
 
 " No, Borzlam." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " He thought it was you," 
 
 " I shall kill him, Isabel, even if it parts us." 
 
 " It will bind us firmer. He ought to be 
 killed." 
 
 " How do you know it was Borzlam ? " 
 
 " I heard him tell grandbebee. They tried to 
 catch me, but I fled too fast. Borzlam will kill 
 me too, now." 
 
 " You must stay here, till he is captured." 
 
 " He has fled doubtless, he knows that Jasper 
 or Carruple would kill him." 
 
 " I will tie him to a tree, and every MacAllis- 
 ter shall fling his dirk at him. That is our pun- 
 ishment for an assassin." 
 
 Towards morning the wounded man had a few 
 moments of consciousness, and he used them to 
 urge on the chief and Angus no delay on ac-
 
 TEE GYPSY'S REVENGE. 193 
 
 count of his misfortune. " "Where is my 
 sword ? " he asked. 
 
 Angus put it in his hand. 
 
 " Call Neil MacAllister." 
 
 A splendid-looking youth, armed at every 
 point, entered, and bent on one knee beside his 
 leader. 
 
 " Neil ? " 
 
 " My chief! My dear chief! " 
 
 " Here is my sword. You will use it for me, 
 a stainless sword. Kiss me, Neil." 
 
 "My chief! My chief ! " 
 
 But Hector had become again unconscious, 
 and, though the march was delayed some hours, 
 they were compelled to leave him without any 
 more definite hope. Fraser promised to remain, 
 and Isabel could be relied on for all that skill 
 and loving care could do. Her positive assur- 
 ances of saving his life somewhat comforted 
 MacAllister and Angus, who had some knowl- 
 edge of the medical skill of the Romany women, 
 but over the rest of the clan there was a shadow 
 that it was difficult to disperse. 
 
 The men left about seven o'clock ; at eight the 
 strath, which had been so busy, was silent and 
 deserted, and the castle, that yesterday was run-
 
 194 THE LAST OF THE MACALLISTERS. 
 
 ning over with armed men, and noisy with all the 
 tumult of military life, now was only tenanted by 
 half a dozen old women, the dying laird, the 
 gypsy girl, and the old lawyer. 
 
 About this time, also, Fraser remembered 
 Grace Cameron and his promise to call for her 
 early. 
 
 " Now ril hae a pretty kettle o' fish to boil," 
 he said, querulously ; " she'll be for coming here, 
 and I'll hae twa women quarrelling about the 
 puir lad; and John Cameron, he'll be deaving 
 me wi' letters, and Duncan Forbes and thae whig 
 gentry will be misdoubting me. Them that hae 
 put on a white cockade and followed Charlie 
 will hae a mair comfortable time nor me. But 
 I'se do my duty, and I aye had a vera com- 
 manding way wi' women-folk. They'll hae to 
 do what Andrew Fraser thinks they ought to do, 
 'deed will they ! That's ane comfort."
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 A prince's success and a gypsy's death. 
 
 " He is come to ope 
 The purple testament of bleeding war." 
 
 " To every evil-doer comes the evil day." 
 
 Before Fraser could decide as to the course 
 to be pursued with Miss Cameron, that young 
 lady arrived at Strathleven. Ill news travels 
 quickly, and she had heard at daylight various 
 rumors, some of which represented the young 
 chief as actually dead. Eraser's heart ached at 
 the sight of her white, piteous face, but he met 
 her with a pretended reproof: " Why did you no 
 wait at Assynt, Miss Grace? You kent I would 
 come or send advices. This sorrowful house is 
 na the place for you." 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Fraser, it is just where I ought to 
 be. Is Hector dead? Tell me the truth." 
 
 " I'll never lee to a sad heart, Miss G*ace. 
 MacAllister is na dead, but he is little like to 
 live." 
 
 (195)
 
 196 THE LAiT OF THE MACALLISTERS. 
 
 Then Grace threw her arms around Eraser's 
 neck and wept. Her tears wetted the old man's 
 face, and he could not help soothing and com- 
 forting her almost as a mother might. 
 
 " Hush ! hush ! my bonnie wee woman ! 
 There's hope o' him yet. He's young and 
 strong, and he'll mak' a hard fight for his life, 
 and I think he'll win ; I do, surely." 
 
 *' Fraser, dear Fraser, you must let me stay 
 here and help you to take care of him. You 
 must not say no, for I am his promised wife." 
 
 "That is no way to win at me, Miss Grace. I 
 had sorted you for Laird Angus, and I dinna 
 approve o' young leddies taking these solemn 
 matters in their ain hands. It is na right." 
 
 " Oh, Fraser, I must stop ! I will not be sent 
 away; and I told Dr. McLeod to come. He 
 will be here in half an hour, and — " 
 
 " He'll no win in, not a single step. Laird 
 Hector's wounds hae been dressed, and that by 
 ane that kens mair than a' the doctors in the 
 country." 
 
 " Very well, then we will send McLeod back 
 again ; but you will not send me back ? Let me 
 stay ; I will do all I can to make you comforta- 
 ble. I can cook nice things, and keep the rooms
 
 A PRINCE'S SUCCESS. 197 
 
 tidy and still, and help you in a hundred ways. 
 And you know how dearly I love you, and I'll 
 do everything you tell me, and — and — " The 
 rest was lost in tears and sobs, while Fraser for 
 a few moments was compelled to support the 
 trembling, weeping girl, who had thrown herself 
 upon his neck. 
 
 " 'Deed you shall stay, my dear. Hector will 
 be the better o' your presence, and I'm no deny- 
 ing but what you will be an extraordinar' com- 
 fort to me." 
 
 " I knew you would say so at last. How 
 could you help it, when your heart is so good 
 and tender? Is the doctor with Hector now? " 
 
 Fraser looked decidedly embarrassed. " Ow, 
 ay, the doctor is there, and likely to be there." 
 
 " Can I go in and see Hector ? Say yes, 
 Fraser. Go and ask him." 
 
 " Well, I will go and ask. Mind, you will hae 
 to do whatever the doctor says; but she's a 
 kindly lass." 
 
 " What are you saying ? Who is a kindly 
 lass?" 
 
 " The lass that dressed the wound and is nurs- 
 ing him." 
 
 "Who is it?"
 
 198 THE LAST OF THE MACALLISTERS. 
 
 " Just the gypsy girl, Isabel Gordon." 
 
 " Fraser, it is shameful ! I will not have her 
 nursing Hector, and I won't stay under the same 
 roof with her." 
 
 " There is no call for you to do sae, Miss 
 Cameron, nane at a' ; but Isabel Gordon canna 
 leave the laird, and, what is mair, she should na 
 leave him for a' the fine leddies in Scotland." 
 
 " How can she cure Hector's wound ? " 
 
 " You maun set a gypsy to cure a gypsy 
 wound. McLeod would let the lad slip through 
 his fingers in four-and-twenty hours • Isabel will 
 gie him every chance he has, and she's no going 
 to be meddled wi', and I'll tak' care no one does 
 meddle wi' her. Sae put on your bonnet, my 
 bonnie young leddy, and gae back to Assynt. 
 You'll hae the best o' society there, nae doot." 
 
 " Please, Fraser ; please, Fraser, let me stay ! 
 I will say no word to the gypsy, bad or good." 
 
 " 'Deed, if you stay, you'll hae to treat her like 
 a leddy should do." 
 
 " I will do so, I will indeed." 
 
 " And you must speak kindly to her." 
 
 " I will do so, Fraser." 
 
 " And whatever she says is to be done." 
 
 " Certainly."
 
 A PRINCE'S SUCCESS. 199 
 
 " She is mistress and maister too in the sick- 
 room. If she says you are to leave it, or that 
 you must na speak, or the Hke o' that, she maun 
 be obeyed instanter." 
 
 " I will do whatever she says." 
 "And you'll no quarrel with each ither?" 
 " I will not say an angry or disagreeable 
 word." 
 
 " But womenfolk hae a way o' looking vera 
 angry and disagreeable things." 
 
 " I won't do it, Fraser. Try me for two days." 
 " Vera weel, I'll try you. Now gang awa to 
 the room you had when you stayed here before, 
 and wash the tears aff your bonnie face, and 
 then you shall mak' out my tea, I'm needing a 
 cup badly." 
 
 Grace went reluctantly up-stairs, but she 
 judged that she had pressed Fraser quite far 
 enough at that time. Her maid had already 
 unpacked her clothing, opened up the room, 
 and made some arrangements for her mistress's 
 comfort. She was, however, full of complaints 
 and gossip. " There was na a decent servant left 
 in the castle, the best women had gane to the 
 fields to gather in the hay, and the old crones
 
 200 THE LAST OF THE MACALLISTERS. 
 
 wha had taken their place could do naething 
 but croak about Charlie and Mar and Dundee." 
 
 "Are there no young women here?" 
 
 " Only ane, and she wad be better awa, a 
 gypsy lass that cam rinning through the storm 
 like a madwoman, and went on about Laird 
 Hector as if he — " 
 
 " Hush ! Do not dare to name the girl in my 
 presence." And Grace remembered with scorn 
 and anger the scene which she had witnessed 
 between the girl and Angus. 
 
 Fraser had watched her up-stairs with a smile 
 of great satisfaction. " It tak's Andrew "Fraser 
 to manage a contrary woman/' he said, compla- 
 cently; " it's an unco pity I never got married 
 mysel'; there wad hae been one woman properly 
 guided ony way. Now I maun gae and speak 
 yon little pagan fair, but she'll be easy managed, 
 nae doot." 
 
 He went into the hall, where Hector lay in a 
 restless and feverish unconsciousness. Isabel sat 
 on the floor by his side. She took no notice of 
 Fraser's entrance until he stood beside her, and 
 then she only looked up and laid her hand upon 
 her mouth ; but when she perceived that he
 
 A PRINCE'S SDCCESS. 201 
 
 wished to speak to her, she arose noiselessly 
 and followed him out of the room. 
 
 " Isabel, Miss Gordon, an' it please you bet- 
 ter, there is a young leddy here who, in some 
 sort, has a right to be here, and she wants to see 
 Laird Hector." 
 
 " Miss Cameron ? " 
 
 *' Yes, Miss Cameron." 
 
 '* She cannot come in." 
 
 " But I'm thinking she'll insist on it." 
 
 " I shall go away, then." 
 
 " You'll do naething o' the kind. Miss Gor- 
 don." 
 
 " You are right. I promised Angus to stay 
 by him, and I will." 
 
 " But, Miss Cameron ? " 
 
 " She cannot come in here, I won't have her, 
 I won't see her. Let me go, I am too long 
 away now.'' And Isabel silently but peremptor- 
 ily closed the door on Fraser and went back to 
 her watch. 
 
 " Now what'U I do ? I'd rather hae a jury o' 
 stubborn Moidart men to mak' agree than twa 
 women. That gypsy is a wilfu' lass, and she'll 
 hae to hae her way ; the doctor is abune the 
 lawyer in a matter o' life and death."
 
 202 THE LAST OF THK MACALLISTERS. 
 
 As he stood musing on this and other mat- 
 ters Grace touched him. She had put on a 
 pretty morning dress, and her face was now 
 calmer and tearless, " Your tea is ready," she 
 said, caressingly, " the salmon is broiled to a 
 turn, and I have made you an omelet with my 
 own hands." 
 
 " You dear lassie ! I'm wae to hae only ill 
 news for you. Now, dinna faint. Hector's nae 
 worse, it's the doctor that won't hear tell o' your 
 seeing him, and we must hae nae quarrelling or 
 disputing." 
 
 " But surely you — " 
 
 " I'm naebody in this matter. She as gudeas 
 ordered me out o' the room. You'll hae to 
 beck and bow to the gypsy if you want your 
 way. But you will ne'er do that," 
 
 "" Indeed I will," 
 
 " She does na like you, that's easy seen," 
 
 " I will make her like me. When you have 
 finished your breakfast go and stay by Hector, 
 and send her for a cup of tea, she must need it," 
 
 Fraser willingly did this, and Grace, concealed 
 by the window- curtain, saw the girl enter the 
 room. She seemed to be utterly exhausted, and 
 yet she flung herself face downward on the sofa
 
 A PRINCE'S SUCCESS. 203 
 
 in a passionate abandonment of grief that had 
 something terrible in it. 
 
 Grace went slowly to her side. Such sorrow 
 drove all meaner feelings before it. She forgot 
 her jealousy and scorn, and only saw before her 
 a woman, a child, rather, bowed to the ground 
 in overwhelming anguish. Suddenly, moved by 
 some tender and noble feeling, which she never 
 questioned or reasoned with, she stooped down 
 and kissed the small, olive-tinted hands clasped 
 above the bowed head. Isabel turned her head 
 instantly and, smothering her grief, tottered to 
 her feet. 
 
 Grace tried to take her hand, but she shook 
 her head proudly. 
 
 " We are sisters in sorrow ; do not turn away 
 from me. You are weak and faint, let me make 
 you some tea." 
 
 Isabel did not seem to hear. In a kind of 
 blind, dazed way she took a few steps towards 
 the door and then reeled and fell. Grace made 
 no outcry, she called her own maid, and together 
 they tended her until consciousness returned. 
 
 "I have been ill?'' 
 
 "You fainted, Isabel. Do not move yet. I 
 will bring you bread and wine, that is what you
 
 204 THE LAST OF THE MACALLISTERS. 
 
 need. Nay but you must take it, for Lord Hec- 
 tor's sake." 
 
 She crumbled the bread into the wine and ate 
 it greedily. " I was hungry, I had forgotten 
 that. Now I can go." 
 
 Grace let her go without a word. She was 
 sensible that she had made a greater impres- 
 sion on Isabel than the girl would at once 
 admit. Three days afterwards she came again 
 into the parlor for some refreshment. Grace 
 prepared the meal with her own hand, and then 
 sat down to share it with her. Inadvertently 
 she had made the very advance Isabel could 
 understand. 
 
 " We have broken bread together," she said, 
 slowly, " shall we be friends ? " 
 
 Grace rose and kissed her, saying, frankly, " I 
 should like it very much." 
 
 A little later, as she passed the door of the 
 hall, Isabel called her softly. " He is conscious, 
 would you like to see him? '' 
 
 " Oh, Isabel, it would make me so happy ! " 
 
 " Come." 
 
 In another moment Hector, lifting slowly and 
 painfully his heavy eyelids, saw the face he loved 
 best on earth bending over him. He could not
 
 A PRINCE'S SUCCESS. 20$ 
 
 speak, but he drank in life and light from the 
 dear eyes looking into his. That night Grace 
 and Isabel shared the watch together. 
 
 " It is a great comfort to me," said Fraser, 
 when he heard of the reconciliation, " for I may- 
 say I hae been living o'er a barrel o' gunpowder. 
 Women hae a wonderfu' way o' behaving in my 
 presence. If I had married, and brought up 
 daughters, they wad hae been greatly sought 
 after." 
 
 But, in spite of the reconciliation, time passed 
 very uneasily to Fraser. Lord Hector's condi- 
 tion was still one of the most imminent danger ; 
 any moment some fatal change might take place, 
 and he had heard nothing from MacAllister, 
 though the chief had promised to send a trusty 
 messenger back in a few days. 
 
 In the meantime the whole country was in 
 commotion. There was scarcely an hour in 
 which the sound of pipes did not give notice of 
 the march of armed men through the strath or 
 over the mountains, and Grace had told him, 
 " with her head in the air," as he said, that a 
 goodly number oi* the McLeods, indignant at 
 the supineness of their chief, had chosen a
 
 206 THE LAST OF THE MACALLISTERS. 
 
 leader from among themselves, and gone to meet 
 Prince Charles at Glenfinnin. 
 
 But about two weeks after the departure of 
 the MacAllisters, as Fraser was chafing himself 
 into a fever, ha was told that a gentleman wished 
 speech with him. The gentleman was a fine- 
 looking highlandman, with a brisk and hearty 
 manner. 
 
 " Gude-day to ye, Maister Fraser. I'm glad 
 to see ye." 
 
 "Gude-day to you, sir, and if ye bring gude 
 news, then Tm glad enough to see you, though 
 I neither ken your face nor your name." 
 
 "I am Andrew MacAllister, a near cousin o* 
 the chief's, God bless him! " 
 
 " Ye hae a gude name, and dootless ye are 
 worthy o't. Now, what's your news ? " 
 
 " First, ye maun tell me how Laird Hector is." 
 
 " He is like to do weel, and he is weel cared 
 for, ye may tell MacAllister that. Now where 
 is the chief and his men ? " 
 
 " In Perth." 
 
 " I'm no for asking aught anent the rebellion, 
 but I canna help you telling me if ye like to do 
 sae, Andrew MacAllister. Folks maun talk over
 
 A PRINCE'S SUCCESS. 20/ 
 
 their toddy, ye ken. Ye left here on the nine- 
 teenth, did ye no ? " 
 
 " Earlier, lawyer. We were at Glenfinnin on 
 the morning o' the nineteenth. You should hae 
 seen us coming down the brae in twa columns 
 o' three men abreast, and the pipes playing like 
 they were mad wi' joy. The Camerons were 
 there before us, and the prince and his com- 
 pany." 
 
 " I'm not asking, but I wonder what next ? " 
 
 " The Marquis o' Tullibardine flung out the 
 royal flag to a gude Scotch wind ; a bonnie flag 
 it was, a' o' red silk, but a space o' white in the 
 middle o' it. What a storm o' pipe music, and 
 what a cloud o' skimmering bonnets, and what 
 a long, long shout there was ! Oh, lawyer, ye 
 ought to hae been there ! " 
 
 " Tut, tut, man ! I might hae liked it, but 
 there was nae ought in the question." 
 
 " Then cam' the Macdonalds o' Keppoch, and 
 some of the McLeods, and the next day we be- 
 gan our march. At Lochaber we were met by 
 the Stuarts o' Appin and Ardshiel, and by Glen- 
 garry and Gordon, and small parties from the 
 clachans on the road, and so we made for Cor-
 
 208 THE LAST OF THE MACALLISTER8. 
 
 riearrack, where General Cope was waiting for 
 us." 
 
 " Did ye fight Cope ? I mean, I wonder if he 
 stayed for a fight." 
 
 " Cope run away afore we come nigh him 
 he thought it best to sleep in a whole skin ;" 
 and the man laughed so heartily that Fraser 
 had to purse up his lips very tight in order to 
 preserve a decent composure. 
 
 " Then came the Frasers." 
 
 " Ou, ay, I kent they'd come ! " 
 
 " And the Mclntoshes." 
 
 " Every ane o' them ! " 
 
 "And we went like a torrent down Badenoch 
 and the Vale of Athole." 
 
 " 'Twad be a grand sight ! " 
 
 " And at Ruthven we met Cluny McPherson. 
 He had been out for George, but as soon as he 
 saw the prince he left his red-coats and went 
 back hame to raise his clan for Charlie. He 
 could na help it, ye never saw a prettier man 
 than the prince." 
 
 " I wonder now ! " 
 
 " 'Deed he is. There's nane can beat him 
 either in running or wrestling or leaping, or 
 even wi' the broadsword. He sets the men's
 
 A PRINCE'S SUCCESS. 209 
 
 hearts on fire wi' his bravery, and the women's 
 wi' his beauty.'' 
 
 " Cam ye by Athole ? " 
 
 " Ay did we, and stayed twa days in the 
 duke's castle o' Blair Athole. Lord Nairn cam' 
 up wi' us there, and Nairn and Lochiel went to 
 Dunkeld and proclaimed King Charles there. 
 But eh, man ! You should hae seen us enter 
 Perth ! " 
 
 " Nonsense ! I daur say ye made but a poor 
 figure." 
 
 " Poor figure yoursel'. The prince wore a 
 splendid suit o' tartan trimmed wi' gold, and the 
 Duke o' Perth, and Oliphant o' Gask, and hand- 
 some Lochiel, and the chief o' the MacAllisters 
 walked by his side wi' their bonnets in their 
 hands, and the Perth men a' shouted, and the 
 women cried wi' joy, and the prince he bowed 
 east and west, and looked like a king wha had 
 come to his ain folks again," 
 
 " Perth was always Stuart mad." 
 
 " What for not ? The Stuarts aye loved 
 Perth. Were they not a' crowned at the Palace 
 o' Scone ? Now, Mr. Fraser, I maun awa, the 
 chief bade me haste, and my heart is na here, I 
 trow."
 
 2IO THE LAST OF THE MACALLISTERS. 
 
 " Tak' anither glass and go. Men are aye in 
 a hurry to run into danger. Gie MacAllister 
 my duty and my assurances, and tell him a' 
 things are like to do weel. And if you see Era- 
 ser o' Achnacarry ye may gie him my respects, 
 and say, if he is in need o' a little matter o' siller 
 or gold, his good cousin Andrew will be glad to 
 let him hae it. Helping a kinsman is na aiding 
 and abetting a rebellion, I hope. And I'll no 
 hae the Frasers go amang ither folk and want 
 aught fitting for an auld and honorable family. 
 If that's treason the lairds o' session maun mak' 
 a bill o' it." 
 
 Then the two men shook hands heartily, and 
 Andrew MacAllister went down the mountain, 
 singing— 
 
 "Geordie sits in Charlie's chair, 
 
 Bonnie Laddie ! Highland Laddie ! 
 Had I my will he'd no sit there, 
 
 Bonnie Laddie ! Highland Laddie ! 
 Keep up your heart, for Charlie fight, 
 
 Bonnie Laddie ! Highland Laddie ! 
 Come what will, you've done what's right, 
 
 Bonnie Laddie ! Highland Laddie ! " 
 
 The little news that Fraser had heard only 
 made him eager for more, he was as restless as 
 a caged animal. " Here I am, shut up by my
 
 A PRINCE'S SUCCESS. 211 
 
 ain kind heart in a rebel's castle wi' twa women 
 and a wounded man," he said, querulously, to 
 Grace, " and there's plenty o' men in Perth 
 needing my gude counsel this day." 
 
 " But if you are suspected you know how to 
 clear yourself." 
 
 " I should hope I do. I dinna keep a' my 
 friends booked on the same side o' the house. 
 If George wins I hae the ear o' Duncan Forbes, 
 the best Whig that ever lived ; if Charlie wins 1 
 hae the heart o' Mac Allister, the noblest Jacobite 
 that e'er drew a sword from its scabbard. It is 
 na mysel' I'm worrying for, it's ither folk, and I 
 wish I kent what ither folk are up to." 
 
 But for another two weeks no trustworthy in- 
 formation reached them. Cameron, indeed, had 
 sent several letters, but they referred mainly to 
 family affairs. He had been obliged to submit 
 to the separation from his daughter, several 
 causes independent of Hector's condition made 
 it necessary. In the first place, a defection of a 
 large number of the McLeods, now his tenantry, 
 might be adduced against him, unless he re- 
 mained in Edinburgh to support the govern- 
 ment by his presence and means. In the sec- 
 ond, it was unsafe for any lady to traverse the
 
 212 TRE LAST OF THE MACALLISTERS. 
 
 country ; Sir John Cope had gone north to meet 
 the rebels, and the rebels were pouring into the 
 south by a hundred different roads to meet their 
 1 prince. Again, Edinburgh was the hotbed of 
 Jacobitism, and if Grace were there she would 
 'almost certainly do something to bring herself 
 and him into trouble. 
 
 It must be remembered that Lochaber, where 
 the rebellion had formed, though only one hun- 
 dred miles from Edinburgh, was really as little 
 known to the Lowland Scotch and English 
 as a part of the Russian empire. They were 
 aware that in the Highlands of their country 
 there dwelt, among wild mountains and broad 
 lakes, tribes of men who lived each under the 
 rule of their own chief, who wore a peculiar 
 dress, spoke an unknown language, and went 
 armed even about their ordinary avocations. 
 They had also occasionally seen little companies 
 of them following the droves of black cattle 
 which were the sole export of their country, 
 gigantic men, plaided, bonneted, belted, and 
 brogued, driving their bullocks with an air of 
 great dignity and consequence. Yet very little 
 indeed was known of them, and the communi- 
 cation between the Highlands and Lowlands
 
 A PRINCE 'S SUCCESS. 2 1 3 
 
 was so uncertain and dangerous that even such 
 a matter of importance as the landing of Prince 
 Charles was for more than two weeks a subject 
 of uncertainty. 
 
 There was little wonder, then, that the lonely 
 castle of Strathleven heard so few echoes from 
 the noisy, fighting world outside its barrier of 
 mountains, and that, with the exception of the 
 news brought by Andrew MacAllister, nothing 
 trustworthy was heard for nearly five weeks 
 after the departure of the chief. By this time, 
 however, Hector's case was more hopeful. He 
 was conscious, and Isabel had permitted him to 
 be lifted from the floor to a more comfortable 
 bed. But his condition was still very precarious, 
 and life was absolutely dependent on a care and 
 watchfulness that never ceased. 
 
 It must be admitted that it had been a month 
 to try the most forbearing affection. Hector 
 had hardly been able to understand, much less 
 acknowledge, the tenderness lavished upon him. 
 Fraser, in spite of his attempts at gallantry and 
 self control, had been very irritable and restless, 
 and the friendship between Grace and Isabel was 
 by no means a demonstrative one. The gypsy 
 girl had no confidences to make, and often sat
 
 214 THE LAST OF THE 3IACAL LISTERS. 
 
 hour after hour so perfectly motionless by her 
 patient's side that Grace felt her immobility a 
 kind of torture. 
 
 But on the twenty-fifth of September men 
 were seen approaching the castle. Fraser went 
 out to meet them, with a glad, yet anxious heart. 
 The leader had his arm in a sling, and he was 
 followed by only two gillies, but it was evident 
 that he was a gentleman, and when he drew 
 near the gates, Fraser knew him. 
 
 " Forres, I am glad to see you. What brings 
 you here, man? How's a' wi' MacAUister?" 
 
 " All is well with them. How is Laird Hec- 
 tor?'' 
 
 " Laird Hector is nae worse, and he's some 
 better, but what's your news, and what's the 
 matter wi' you ? Come awa in and rest your- 
 sel'. I'm fain, fain to see you." 
 
 " ' Deed, I got into a fight wi' ane o' them no- 
 to-be-bided Crawfurds, and I hae gotten a sair 
 wound. I'll no hold a sword again for a week, 
 and MacAUister told me, if I wad come and see 
 you, there's a lassie here would do mair than a' 
 the doctors in Edinburgh for me. Sae I came." 
 
 " And glad am I. Where is MacAUister ? " 
 
 " He's whar he ought to be, wi' the prince."
 
 A PRINCE ' S S UCCESS. 2 1 5 
 
 " And whar is he, man ? " 
 
 " In Edinburgh ! '' 
 
 *' Dinna lee, for ony sake, Forres." 
 
 " Prince Charles is in Holyrood Palace. My 
 een hae seen that gude sight, if they never see 
 any ither." 
 
 " Bide a wee, Forres, there's a leddy here 
 maun hear that news," and Fraser went with a 
 most disloyal haste to Grace's parlor. 
 
 " You'll no heed my not chapping at your 
 door. Miss Grace, for — Oh, Grace, my lass, 
 what think ye ? Yonder young man is in Holy- 
 rood Palace ! '' 
 
 " Prince Charles ! Say it again, Fraser." 
 
 " Nae need. He is there dootless. Now, 
 dinna gang daft, and dinna deave me wi' crying 
 and laughing. Ye ken weel that I'm deid again 
 the Stuarts." But Grace had flung her arms 
 around his neck, and was kissing him for joy 
 and exultation. 
 
 "I must tell Hector; I must, indeed I must!" 
 
 " I dinna think he has strength to put this and 
 that thegither, but you may try," and with this 
 permission Grace bent over the pale and appar- 
 ently sleeping laird.
 
 2l6 TEE LAST OF THE MACALLISTERS. 
 
 " Hector, beloved," she whispered, " Prince 
 Charles is in Holyrood." 
 
 A bright light leaped for a moment into the 
 heavy eyes, and the white, haggard face flushed 
 rosy red. There were a few words more of 
 whispered joy, and then Isabel kindly, but per- 
 emptorily, placed herself between them. Grace 
 understood, and submitted cheerfully ; she was 
 too happy to be offended, and with a bright 
 smile she was passing from the room when Isa- 
 bel, white and tearful, arrested her. 
 
 " Have pity on me. What news have you ? " 
 
 " God forgive me ! How could I be so 
 thoughtless ? Good news, Isabel ! Prince 
 Charles is in Edinburgh." 
 
 " What care I for Prince Charles ? It is 
 Angus, my Angus ! " 
 
 " He is well." 
 
 Grace spoke with a sudden coolness, and Isa- 
 bel turned proudly away. An hour afterwards 
 Grace met her, and was amazed at the change 
 in the girl. Her face was alight, her eyes 
 burned like stars, her lips were slightly parted, 
 as if she were singing to her own soul, and she 
 walked with a light, elastic grace that had more 
 of joy in it than many a dance. For Isabel had
 
 A PRINCE 'S SUCCESS. 2 1 7 
 
 seen Forres, had dressed his wound, and 
 received a message and a token from Angus. 
 
 Forres was likely to be detained a week, and 
 as he was a young gentleman of some rank and 
 education, Fraser found his society a great 
 relief to the tedium of his life, and it was with a 
 keen sense of the blessing of good company 
 that he mixed his toddy the night of Forres's 
 arrival, and sat down to talk o'er things. 
 
 He was just considering how best to get at all 
 the facts of the rebels' march to Edinburgh 
 when Forres startled him by saying, " You 
 knew the man who intended to murder the 
 young chief of MacAUister ? " 
 
 " Yes, a gypsy, called Borzlam." 
 
 " He has been killed." 
 
 " Killed ! Wha by ? " 
 
 " The MacAllisters." 
 
 " Tut ! tut ! they should hae left him for the 
 hangman. I'm not pleased at Laird Angus for 
 that." 
 
 " Laird Angus did not soil his dirk with him. 
 The poor, pitiful scoundrel went to Edinburgh 
 wi' news that he meant to sell to George's men. 
 James MacGregor was there for our side, and 
 he- heard the whole story. They left the secre-
 
 2l8 THE LAST OF THE MACALLISTERS. 
 
 tary's office thegither, and Rob Roy's son was 
 na the man to lose sight or hold o' sic a double 
 traitor. He brought him safe to our camp, and 
 he was condemned as a spy and a traitor. Then 
 MacAllister stepped out and claimed the right 
 o' life and death o'er him, and he was given up 
 to them whom he had sae deeply wronged." 
 " MacAllister did not kill him, surely?" 
 " No. The meeserable creature crawled to 
 Laird Angus's feet, and begged like a slave for 
 his life. Laird Angus spurned him awa wi' 
 scorn and loathing, and ordered him to be tied 
 to a tree. * Had you slain my brother in a fair 
 fight,' he said, * I would have drawn my own 
 dirk and killed you like a man. Assassin ! 
 traitor ! spy ! die an assassin's death.' With 
 that he looked at Ewen, and Ewen flung the 
 first dirk at him." 
 
 " Did he say aught ? " 
 " I would rather not tell you what he said." 
 " Ah, but you must. It would be an ill thing 
 to say so much and no more. I ken something 
 o' these pagan creatures. They can face the 
 inevitable if they hae to do it." 
 
 " This Borzlam faced it with a storm of curses.
 
 A PRIACE'S SUCCESS. 219 
 
 ' Your prince shall be hunted like a fox and 
 die like a beast ! 
 
 * Cry the coronach for the last chief of Mac- 
 Allister ! 
 
 ' I see a battle-field in which highlandmen 
 shall be trodden like clay ! 
 
 ' Fire shall go through Lochaber and widows 
 shall sow a handful of corn ! ' " 
 
 " Laird Angus was sorely tempted to strike 
 him silent, but he walked scornfully away, and 
 the clashing o' knives and the cries o' the clans- 
 men drowned his evil words. But it was a fear- 
 ful sight, I liked it not." 
 
 " Nor do I like to hear tell o' it. They should 
 hae let the law and the hangman deal wi' him. 
 Honest men willna like to be stabbit in a fair 
 battle-field wi' such dirty dirks. There was 
 mair harm than gude done." 
 
 " Likely for the MacAllister wouldna camp 
 near him, and they moved twa or three hundred 
 yards awa, and left him where he died. And I 
 happened to be captain of the watch that night, 
 and I saw what I like not." 
 
 " Maybe ye had a dream, man." 
 
 " You'll no affront me that way, Fraser. I 
 dinna dream on watch. I saw an auld woman
 
 220 THE LAST OF THE MACALLISTERS. 
 
 Steal round our men, spread out her arms, and 
 cry sorrow on them. I knew not the words she 
 said, but they seemed to draw from north and 
 south and east and west everything evil. I de- 
 clare I 'most fancied I heard the dark air stirred 
 by flapping wings, and felt them trailing on the 
 ground beside me. Prince Charles will never 
 win, I'm feared, though he has a' the right to 
 win." 
 
 " Yes, he has rights, as a lawyer I'll allow 
 that. But they hae lapsed, Forres. He is o'er 
 late wi' his plea, and naebody can mak' the mill 
 grind with the water that is gane past it. He is 
 just thirty years too late, that is as gude as for- 
 ever." 
 
 " And yet I canna think it. You should hae 
 seen him when he entered Edinburgh. I'll ne'er 
 forget him riding down the Duke's Walk to the 
 palace. His bonnet o' blue velvet was decked 
 wi' a band o' gold lace and a white cockade, and 
 o'er his tartan coat he wore St. Andrew's star. 
 Around him walked a band o' auld hielandmen, 
 every ane o' them had fought at Sheriffmuir for 
 his father, and they kept turning up their sun- 
 burned faces to him wi' such love and reverence 
 that I could look at naught else but them.
 
 A PRINCE S S VCCESS. 221 
 
 You'll no believe me, but it's true as truth itsel', 
 his vera boots were wet and dimmed as he 
 passed along, wi' the kisses and tears of those 
 who followed him." 
 
 " I'm glad I was na there. I am that suscep- 
 tible, Forres, I daur na trust mysel' in bad — I 
 mean, in dangerous company." 
 
 " But for all that and all that, Fraser, I wish 
 I had na seen that evil figure ! " 
 
 "It was naught at a' but Isabel's grand- 
 mother. She went to steal awa Borzlam's body, 
 dootless. It wad be gane in the morning ? " 
 
 " Yes, it was gone. We were glad of it." 
 
 " Nae doot. And as for any woman, good or 
 bad, witch or saint, bringing ill where God has 
 na spoken it, that's impossible. God does na 
 leave the issues o' war, and life and death, to 
 witches and auld gypsy wives. Put that in 
 your pipe, Alexander Forres, and smoke it, 
 then ye may gang to your bed and sleep easy." 
 
 But ere Fraser followed his own advice he 
 looked in at Hector quietly sleeping, while 
 Isabel sat beside him, and Grace stood looking 
 out of the window o'er the moonlit strath. He 
 motioned to Isabel, and she came to him. 
 
 "Isabel" — in a whisper— " Borzlam is dead."
 
 222 THE LAST OF THE MACALLISTERS. 
 
 " Did Angus kill him ? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 " He should have done it." 
 
 " He had small grace and he deserved none. 
 Assassin and traitor both." 
 
 " Hush ! When the dead are spoken of they 
 come to listen, and the vengeance of the dead is 
 terrible." 
 
 "Weel, weel, I'm no his judge. God be 
 merciful to a' his creatures! How is Hector?" 
 
 " He will live. He is sleeping himself back 
 to life." 
 
 " That will do to sleep on. Gude-night, little 
 woman.''
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE DEATH OF THE MACALLISTER. 
 " A mocking king of snow." 
 
 " Nothing is here for tears, nothing to wail 
 Or knock the breast, no weakness, no contempt, 
 Dispraise or blame, nothing but well and fair, 
 And what may quiet us in a death so noble." 
 
 Cameron himself brought the news of the 
 great rebel victory at Preston. The battle had 
 been fought on the 22d of September, but it was 
 towards the end of the first week in October 
 when Cameron reached Strathleven, The weary- 
 gentleman climbing the mountain road was a 
 glad sight to all in the castle, and Eraser's eyes 
 were full of tears when he clasped Cameron's 
 hand at the great gate. 
 
 Grace was very glad also, but her joy had at 
 first an element of fear in it. Had the prince 
 failed ? And were there no longer two sides for 
 men to take ? She feared to ask a direct ques- 
 tion, and her father was really so much more 
 
 (223)
 
 224 THE LAST OF THE MACALLISTERS. 
 
 interested in Lord Hector's condition that he 
 forgot to volunteer any information. 
 
 " How is Lord Hector ? " he asked, anxiously, 
 as soon as he was alone with Fraser, 
 
 " He's out o' danger, I think ; mair by token 
 that he has been worrying himsel' and ither folk 
 to-day anent his velvet suit and laces. He's 
 fretting, too, after his servant, Roy, who, he 
 says, is the only ane in the country wha can 
 sort his hair and tie his cravats, I think he 
 would rather hae gien Prince Charles his sword 
 than his valet." 
 
 " It is a good sign, Fraser. For my part I 
 like to see a man careful of his appearance ; it 
 is a mark of respect to himself and other people 
 also. Can I see him ?" 
 
 Hector had been prepared for the visit and 
 was anxiously awaiting it. Isabel had permitted 
 him to be slightly raised on his pillows, but he 
 had scarcely strength enough to lift his thin, 
 white hand, and lay it in Cameron's. 
 
 "MacAllister, my dear, dear lad, this is a sore 
 sight," and Cameron, who had really loved the 
 handsome youth from the very first hour of their 
 acquaintance, could not restrain his emotion. 
 The tears rolled down his aged face and dropped
 
 THE DEATH OF THE MACALLISTER. 225 
 
 upon the young laird's hands, and then Grace, 
 for very sympathy, wept also, until Hector, with 
 a look, drew her head down to his and kissed 
 the tears away. 
 
 " Cameron," he whispered, " will you give me 
 your daughter? " and Cameron, for answer, put 
 Grace's hand in that of the suppliant, saying, as 
 he did so, "MacAllister, you shall be as my own 
 son to me, only get well, and then we will talk 
 more of the matter." 
 
 No one had noticed the gypsy girl. She 
 stood in the window, watching the meeting with 
 a face that betrayed not the slightest interest in 
 it, but she felt keenly the passive neglect with 
 which Cameron had treated her. As he left the 
 room she gently followed, and, touching him on 
 the shoulder, she said, 
 
 " Have you seen Angus MacAllister lately ? " 
 
 " Laird Angus MacAllister, my good girl." 
 
 " I am none of your good girl, Maister Cam- 
 eron, and if Angus MacAllister is laird o' yours 
 he is none of mine. He is my plighted hus- 
 band. Is he well? You might answer a civil 
 question." 
 
 " He is well, I believe." 
 
 He was greatly annoyed. The proud, pas- 
 13
 
 226 THE LAST OF THE MACALLISTERS. 
 
 sionate girl, in her outlandish dress, with the 
 large golden hoops in her ears and the queer 
 gold beads on her neck, roused in him a feeling 
 of dislike. He had all a Scotsman's pride in 
 his family connections, and he looked forward 
 with no pleasure to the prospect of finding this 
 strange woman the sister of his beautiful, high- 
 bred daughter 
 
 The first remark he made to Fraser was on 
 this subject, and he was still further annoyed to 
 find that the wise old man inclined to regard 
 Angus's choice as a very proper one. 
 
 "Ye canna judge a woman by her earrings 
 and her beads, man, and for the rest she is gude 
 and bad, as a' women are; as a rule they are 
 about evenly mixed. Ye canna deny that she is 
 bonnie enough to turn any lad's heart inside 
 out." 
 
 " I really did not look at her." 
 
 " Then, man, you made a great mistake. It 
 is a kind o' duty to admire such beauty as Isa- 
 bel's wherever you see it. You arena compet- 
 ent to judge the lass till you hae looked in her 
 een and watched her ways, kindly, womanly 
 ways, fu' o' grace and skill. I'll own that she 
 has a temper, a' women worth aught have tern-
 
 THE DEATH OF THE MACALLISTER. 22/ 
 
 pers, but she has saved Laird Hector's life, and 
 that is what nae doctor in Scotland could have 
 done." 
 
 " I heard that from Forres, but I scarcely- 
 believed it." 
 
 " Oh, man, if ye had heard ill o' the lass, ye 
 would have opened both your ears to it. Where 
 there is a woman atween gude and ill report put 
 her on the gude side, Cameron. Do it for your 
 ain mother's sake. Besides, it's no likely all the 
 gude women are in the Cameron family." 
 
 " Well, well, Fraser, we have other things to 
 talk of to-night. The rebels have won a won- 
 derful victory at Falkirk, but I give little for it." 
 
 " Is na it worth as much as if George's red- 
 coats had won it ? " 
 
 " No, I think it is not. The young man is not 
 gaining adherents as fast as he ought to do, and 
 he is surrounded by bad advisers and difficulties 
 of all kinds. He has no more chance of final 
 success than ever he had. If beauty and brav- 
 ery and the matchless courage of his highland- 
 ers could stand against the whole power of 
 England, he would win; but it is hopeless, hope- 
 less! " 
 
 " And he has won a fair battle, eh?"
 
 228 TEE LAST OF THE MACALLISTERS. 
 
 " Yes, there is no doubt of it. I have talked 
 with some who were present. They said he 
 made a splendid figure on the battle-field. He 
 was brave as bra\ e could be ; and there is no 
 kind of doubt that he is very handsome, even 
 among the handsome, stately chiefs surrounding 
 him." 
 
 " And Cope is weel whipped ? " 
 
 " Have you any spite at Cope that you should 
 look so satisfied at it ? Cope understands the 
 art of war, but what men ever bore such a down- 
 hill charge as the hielandmen made at Falkirk ? 
 Fraser of Achnacarry told me they rushed on 
 the royal army like a raging, roaring torrent. 
 There was one discharge of their muskets, and 
 thjn the lightning swords flashed out from the 
 tartan cloud, and smote with irresistible fury all 
 before them. The Camerons began the battle." 
 And, in spite ol his loyalty, Cameron's eyes 
 filled, and he involuntarily drew himself up, with 
 a proud smile. 
 
 " The Frasers would be on the right wing, 
 they hae had the post of honor ever since Ban- 
 nockburn." 
 
 "The Frasers behaved splendidly." 
 
 " That's auld news, they always behave splen-
 
 THE DEATH OF THE MACALLISTER. 22g 
 
 didly on a battlefield. If the warld was only a 
 battle-field, they would be among the saints o' 
 the earth." 
 
 " Young Donald Fraser, of Glensarg, was 
 killed leading on his men." 
 
 " He owed me a thousand merks, but I'm 
 glad I let him hae them." 
 
 " The magic yonder Charles Stuart exercises 
 over these men is wonderful ? When Fraser 
 fell he raised himself on his elbow and cried to 
 his men, ' Charge ! every man o' you ! And 
 look ye, my lads, I'm not dead ! I shall see if 
 any o' you fails to do his duty !' " 
 
 " I'll hear no more o' it, Cameron. Puir Don- 
 ald ! I wish I had made him tak' ten thousand 
 merks. He shall hae a monument, the best 
 money can buy him, that shall he ! Where is 
 Charles Stuart now?" 
 
 " Holding his court in Holyrood Palace. 
 Edinburgh has lost its heart and senses o'er 
 him, the ladies in particular. President Forbes 
 says he cannot get a man of sense to act with 
 him, because to act against the Chevalier is to 
 lose their mistresses or incense their wives." 
 
 " You hae seen Forbes, then ?" 
 
 "Yes, I got letters of protection from him for
 
 230 THE LAST OF THE MACALLISTERS. 
 
 myself and you, but he counsels you to leave 
 Strathleven at once. He will not be answerable 
 for royal troops in the stronghold of such a 
 rebel as MacAllister." 
 
 "It's a far cry to Strathleven, Cameron. 
 When I hear o' George's men in Lochaber I'll 
 decide whether I'll winter here or no. Folks 
 should na count their chickens till they are 
 hatched. Are you going to stay at Assynt?" 
 
 " Yes, and I must have Grace with me." 
 
 On this point Cameron was positive ; neither 
 tears nor entreaties could prevail, and Grace 
 was obliged to leave Hector entirely in Isabel's 
 care. She disliked to do so very much, she 
 was jealous of her influence, even while she 
 acknowledged that she had no ground for such 
 jealousy. But the girls had never thoroughly 
 trusted each other, and Grace's kindness had 
 had, perhaps, an unvaoidable flavor of patron- 
 age and condescension, a feeling which Isabel 
 intensely resented. 
 
 "Good-bye, Isabel. You must come to As- 
 synt when Lord Hector is able to be moved 
 there. I shall be glad to see you." 
 
 Isabel smiled faintly. " I could not come as
 
 THE DEA rn of the i'a ca l lister 231 
 
 guest, and I am the daughter of a race who 
 serve not." 
 
 "Do not be proud and misjudge me, Isabel. 
 You will take care of Lord Hector ? " 
 
 " I should have done that if you had never 
 come here. I shall do it all the same when you 
 are gone," 
 
 But Grace fancied she was glad to have her 
 go, and she turned her face homewards in a 
 very reluctant mood. 
 
 " Cameron ought to hae stayed here," said 
 Fraser, as he watched them down the moun- 
 tain ; " there's nae fear o^ redcoats at Strath- 
 leven, but he'll find out his mistake ere lang. 
 That lass o' his has left her heart here, and I 
 would na gie a fig for her presence without it. 
 Forbye, she always thought a gude deal o' An- 
 drew Fraser. Cameron should na set himsel' 
 up for everybody in the warld, it's no to be 
 looked for!" 
 
 Fortunately, the winter was favorable, in so far 
 that much less snow than usual fell, and the 
 road between Assynt and Strathleven was gen- 
 erally open to travel. But it passed wearily 
 enough away, and Fraser was often inclined to 
 think that he had proved his love for MacAUis-
 
 232 HE LAST OF TEE MACALLISTERS. 
 
 ter in a manner which dwarfed into insignifi- 
 cance all possible pecuniary obligations. How- 
 ever, Hector was getting well. During the lat- 
 ter part of December he was able to sit up an 
 hour every day, and Isabel had promised that the 
 rjturn of spring would see him in the woods 
 and on the sands again. 
 
 During these winter months Isabel gained a 
 very warm place in Fraser's heart. He dearly 
 loved his comforts, but he loved them doubly 
 from a beautiful woman's hands, and there was 
 something in the almost oriental submission of 
 Isabel that greatly flattered him. In her own 
 tents Isabel had seen women ever the proud and 
 v/illing handmaids of the men connected with 
 them, and Fraser was waited upon and watched 
 with an attention which gave everything and 
 demanded nothing in return. He had no need to 
 trouble himself to be amusing or polite, Isabel 
 would sit contentedly hour after hour in perfect 
 silence, yet always ready to talk to him if he 
 showed that he desired it. Her behavior, upon 
 the whole, caused him to have a very high opin- 
 ion of the Romany women, and he told Cameron 
 " that if ever he married he would tak' a look
 
 THE DEATH OF THE MACALLISTER. 233 
 
 through their tents, for he'd seen no ither women 
 sae likely to suit him." 
 
 The life of Strathleven and Assynt during 
 this winter really centred at Strathleven, for at 
 frequent intervals Cameron and Grace came 
 there, and such visits often lasted for at least a 
 week. Cameron and Fraser generally spent a 
 large part of these days with a map of the two 
 estates before them, and their talk was of sheep 
 and herring-boats, and pounds, shillings, and 
 pence. Grace, with some pretty piece of needle- 
 work in her hand, sat by Hector's side, and their 
 talk was of themselves generally, though not 
 unfrequently they had political events to discuss 
 which had interest enough to entirely engross 
 their speech. 
 
 For Cameron kept up a constant communica- 
 tion with Edinburgh, and thus, however tardily, 
 was made aware of the chief movements of 
 both armies. The descent of Charles into Eng- 
 land in October, his conquest of Carlisle, his 
 victory at Falkirk, and most of the details in 
 connection with these great events, were rejoiced 
 over and discussed in various moods and ways 
 by the four people whose interests were so 
 bound up with them.
 
 234 THE LAST OF THE MACALLISTERS. 
 
 Isabel took no part in these conversations. 
 She listened intently at first, but when satisfied, 
 from their general tone, that no ill news had 
 been received of Angus, she remained wrapped 
 up in her own thoughts and busy with her 
 employments. For into the girl's life had come a 
 motive noble and difficult enough to employ all 
 her energies, a determination to make herself 
 worthy of the youth who loved her so truly. 
 
 She had opened her heart to Hector on this 
 subject as soon as he was able to sit up and con- 
 verse with her, and Hector had seconded her 
 wish with all his power; so many an hour that 
 would have been inexpressibly tedious to him 
 had been greatly brightened by teaching Isabel. 
 How she humbled her proud little heart to be 
 corrected and even smiled at ! What efforts she 
 made, and what difficulties she conquered ! But 
 the task once undertaken was faithfully fulfilled, 
 she was learning to read and write from Hector 
 and Fraser, and she was learning also to assimi- 
 late her dress and manners to Grace Cameron's, 
 in a proportion which showed a great natural 
 sense of beauty and fitness. 
 
 Thus, amid doubts and hopes and continually 
 conflicting reports the winter passed, and spring
 
 THE DEATH OF THE MA CAL LISTER. 235 
 
 was in the straths again. In early April Hec- 
 tor was able to walk between Fraser and Cam- 
 eron to the castle wall, and once more look over 
 the beautiful hills and valleys, green in the first 
 tender glory of spring. But all was painfully 
 still ; the plaided men that had filled the clachan 
 and the hills with noisy life were gone, and in 
 spite of the green turf and the cloudy haze of 
 blue bells there was an air of desolation con- 
 trasting frightfully with Hector's last remem- 
 brance of the same scene, the courtyard and 
 strath full of armed men, the clash of steel, the 
 music of the pipes, the jubilant authority of his 
 noble old father, the gay, joyous chivalry of his 
 beloved Angus. He turned away his head from 
 the scene before him and went into the castle, 
 feeling as if he had come back to life in another 
 world. 
 
 He began to observe now that Fraser and 
 Cameron were unusually anxious, and that 
 Grace's eyes bore constant marks of weeping. 
 He knew that Prince Charles had been com- 
 pelled to retreat northward, and that the Duke 
 of Cumberland was following him, with an army 
 capable of overwhelming by its numbers the five 
 or six thousand brave highlanders whose devo-
 
 236 THE LAST OF THE 3IACA LUSTERS. 
 
 tion had survived the battles and fatigues of a 
 nine months' arduous campaign. So the spring's 
 beauty and song seemed to Hector a mockery, 
 no one around him was in sympathy with it, 
 Fraser and Cameron were silent, Grace irrita- 
 ble and uncertain, the old women in the kitchen 
 full of dreams and portents, while the younger 
 ones in the clachan were heavy with direful pre- 
 sentiments, and hung about the castle waiting 
 and watching for news in a way which unrea- 
 sonably annoyed Hector. Isabel's manner also 
 attracted his attention; the book and work that 
 had been her constant companion now lay 
 untouched on her chair, she wandered about rest- 
 lessly, and her great, sorrowful, eager eyes had 
 the look in them of one who watches for evil, 
 and yet dreads and deprecates it. 
 
 One evening, about the middle of April, Cam- 
 eron and Grace, accompanied by Fraser, were 
 riding slowly between Strathleven and Assynt. 
 Just as they reached the sea-shore Fraser 
 noticed a man leave the sands and plunge into the 
 underwood of Strathleven Forest. Something 
 about the man seemed familiar, and impressed 
 him at once unpleasantly. " He is either a bad 
 man or a bad messenger," he thought, "and I
 
 THE DEATH OF THE MACALLISTER. 237 
 
 have a great mind to go back to Strathleven." 
 Yet he rode on in uncertainty until he reached 
 Assynt, and then a sudden determination seized 
 him. " Cameron," he said, " there is evil abroad, 
 and it touches Strathleven. I know it. I must 
 go back again.'' 
 
 " Then I will go back with you." 
 
 " No, you must not. You might see what 
 you would hate to mak' mention o'. Folks that 
 can keep ears and een shut thae days are the 
 best kind o' friends." 
 
 " You surely don't think — " 
 
 " I'll no tell my thoughts. Cameron, for the 
 love o' God, see no puir fellow that is fleeing for 
 his life. It's easier shuttin' your een than tellin' 
 a lee. Oh, Cameron, we're auld men; we maun 
 be mercifu', we maun be mercifu' ! " 
 
 " Fraser, come what will, I'll do what's right." 
 
 " Ay, ay ! I ken that, John Cameron, but 
 whiles, it is mair Christian-like no to be right- 
 eous overly much. Gang to your room, and 
 your bed if need be, and neither see nor hear tell 
 o' anybody." 
 
 Then Fraser, half angrily, turned back to 
 Strathleven, muttering, " I dinna think Cameron 
 need be sae strict wi' his right. I'm an elder in
 
 238 THE LAST OF THE MACALLISTERS. 
 
 the Kirk myser, and my conscience is as gude 
 as ony ither Christian conscience, and yet — if — 
 I should — weel, weel, there is nae need yet to 
 bespeak a Kirk Session anent me, and, maybe, 
 I'll no be put in such a strait." 
 
 As he approached the castle gate he saw the 
 same man again, but this time he knew him. 
 
 "Jasper Gordon," he cried, "I ken you, my 
 man, sae just come out o' hiding." 
 
 The man came forward instantly. " I knew 
 you also, Maister Fraser, but you were with 
 Cameron, and my news is not for Cameron." 
 
 " Your news! It is bad news, I see." 
 
 " Bad as can be." 
 
 " There has been a battle ? " 
 
 " A huge massacre, say." 
 
 "The prince? I mean, Charles Stuart?" 
 
 " Has fled. He is among these hills." 
 
 "MacAUister?" 
 
 " He fell on the battle-field at the head of his 
 clan. Some of them brought his body outside 
 the line, and I took charge of it." 
 
 " God bless you for that kindness, Jasper ! " 
 
 " I promised him. He fell before he knew 
 that all was lost, he died with ' Prince Charles ' 
 upon his lips."
 
 THE DEATH OF THE MACALLISTER. 239 
 
 " And all is lost ! Oh, Jasper, is this so ? " 
 
 " All is lost." 
 
 " Where is Angus ? " 
 
 " With the prince." 
 
 " And MacAllister's body ? " 
 
 " It is in Ewen's shieling. We brought it in 
 our wagon. I thought of Laird Hector, can he 
 bear it ? " 
 
 " He maun buckle up his heart, and try to 
 bear it. Oh, MacAUister ! My friend! My 
 friend! You maun come to your hame once 
 mair. Oh, MacAUister, we should hae died 
 thegither ! " The old man was quite overcome, 
 and Jasper kept silence till he recovered himself. 
 Then he asked, 
 
 " Who is there to carry him hame ? " 
 
 " There is Ewen and Neil and two or three 
 others. The clan was maist cut to pieces, for 
 when Angus saw his father fall, and heard the 
 clan raise a cry of lament, he placed himself in 
 their front and shouted, * To-day for revenge, 
 to-morrow for weeping,' and so led them into 
 the thick o' the danger. It was a bloody 
 charge, but those who escaped it will win back 
 here again in a day or two." 
 
 Eraser made no answer, and the two men
 
 240 TH^ LAST OF THE MACALLISTERS. 
 
 went down to the clachan. There was no light 
 in Ewen's shieling, and the clansman sat on the 
 low doorstep of his hut, slowly rocking himself 
 to and fro, and moaning out in whispers a dole- 
 ful coronach for his dead chief. 
 
 " Strike a light, Ewen." 
 
 He got up mechanically, never ceasing his 
 moan, and lit a piece of pine-wood, which threw 
 a smoky, fitful light through the dark room. 
 MacAllister lay on a bed of fresh bracken, his 
 plaid was folded round him, and his sword was 
 in his hand. His long, white hair, dabbled with 
 blood, hung round his large, noble face, and the 
 smile of triumph with which he had fallen lin- 
 gered yet upon his lips. 
 
 Eraser knelt down beside him ; he kissed his 
 hands, his lips, his brow. " My friend ! My 
 brother ! My love ! " he cried, in a, passion of 
 grief; " for wha has Andrew Eraser ever loved 
 but you ? " Three or four Highlandmen rose 
 silently from the dark corners of the hut and 
 stood round their chief. 
 
 " He is our father ; we did our best to save 
 him," said Neil, softly. 
 
 " We wad a' hae died in his place," sobbed 
 out another.
 
 THE DEATH OF THE MACALLISTER. 24I 
 
 "And thankfu' for ta honor and pleasure." 
 
 " Lift him gently, he must go to his hame 
 once mair. He shall hae a decent burial, 
 though the Duke o' Cumberland was at the 
 strath head, Neil, you are his nearest blood 
 here, spread your plaid for him." 
 
 Neil laid down his plaid, and the four clans- 
 men lifted him as tenderly as a mother lifts her 
 dead babe and laid him in it. 
 
 " Go slowly, Neil, and cry no coronach as 
 you go. Laird Hector must be told first. Jas- 
 per, gie me your hand, you are a friend o' mine 
 from this hour for the kindness you hae shown 
 that dear bit o' clay."' 
 
 " I loved him, too. I am only a poor igno- 
 rant Romany, but I loved him." 
 
 Then through the darkness the sad proces- 
 sion took its way to the home which the dead 
 chief had left so full of life and hope. They 
 went noiselessly into the great hall, and laid 
 him down where nine months before they had 
 laid down the wounded Hector. Fraser remem- 
 bered it, and pictured again to himself the clans- 
 men and women running in with frantic cries, 
 the nine hundred brave, bonneted men who 
 would any of them that night have gladly died 
 16
 
 242 THE LAST OF THE MACALLISTERS. 
 
 to save their young chieftain. MacAllister, 
 their father, their leader, lay there now, and the 
 nine hundred were slain, wounded, and scat- 
 tered ; only four stood weeping above him. 
 For these men never thought of hiding their 
 tears, they had fought like heroes in battle, they 
 wrung their bloody hands and wept like women 
 above their dead. 
 
 In the meantime Hector had learned his loss, 
 and he now stood white and stern beside the 
 chief and father he had so loved and honored. 
 His feelings found no vent in words or weeping, 
 he stood tearless and silent by his sorrow. Nay, 
 when the women came into the hall with loud 
 cries and lamentations, he seemed unable to 
 endure them. He motioned every one away, 
 and he and Frasei* alone kept the watch. Isa- 
 bel, indeed, waited all through the long, sad 
 hours outside the door, but she sat so motion- 
 less that no one suspected her presence until 
 the gray dawn showed the slight, dark figure 
 sitting with bowed head, listening. 
 
 At that solemn hour Fraser said, softly, "We 
 must bury him ere the sun rise. I sent word to 
 Cameron and Dominie Talisker last night."
 
 THE DEATH OF THE MACALLISTER. 243 
 
 " Can we not wait a few hours ? What are 
 left of the clan may arrive to-day." 
 
 "We must run nae risks wi' such precious 
 dust. Would you like to see that brave head 
 o'er Carlisle Gate ? " 
 
 " God Almighty forbid ! Oh, Fraser, if there 
 is this danger, why have we waited ? We 
 could have buried him at midnight." 
 
 " He has lived a good Christian, and he must 
 hae a Christian burial. Talisker could na be 
 here before dawn. Tak' a mouthfu' o' wine and 
 bread, and then bid the men come in." 
 
 They took the bread and wine and ate it 
 together over the dead chief. What memories 
 gathered themselves around that solemn meal ! 
 Both men wept bitterly, and were not ashamed 
 of their tears. But the face of the dead was full 
 of repose, and all its solemn curves were firm 
 and sharp-cut, as if they were to endure for 
 ages. 
 
 When the men entered, Fraser looked upon 
 their weary, sorrowful faces, and pitied them. 
 " Mak' no moan or cry," he said, gently; "this 
 is your last duty to MacAllister; when it is 
 done you can weep and rest." Then with his 
 own hands he folded the tartan round him, and
 
 244 THE LAST OF THE MACALLISTERS. 
 
 laid his chief's bonnet on his breast, saying, 
 almost with a tone of triumph, " Tak' his sword, 
 Laird Hector. ]\IacAllister has won the last 
 great battle !" 
 
 The men had made a rude bier, and covered 
 it with fresh pine and bracken, and on this sim- 
 ple bed they carried their chief to the little kirk 
 in the strath. Hector was unable to go with 
 them ; he walked to the great gate, and there, 
 with a loud and bitter cry, kissed his father for 
 the last time. 
 
 When they reached the kirk, Cameron, Grace, 
 and Dominie Talisker were waiting, and a great 
 crowd of women sat on the grass, weeping, and 
 softly wailing the coronach. Then the plaid 
 was lifted from the face, and all were allowed to 
 take their last look. Suddenly a woman, white, 
 and trembling with great age, tottered to the 
 grave-side. Her presence turned the moaning 
 sorrow of the women into an awestruck silence, 
 for old Elsie had been long bedridden, and 
 apparently indifferent, if not oblivious, to all 
 earthly affairs. 
 
 Eraser, indeed, had supposed her to be dead, 
 and was for a moment confounded by her 
 appearance.
 
 THE DEATH OF THE 3IACAL LISTER. 245 
 
 "Stand aside!" she cried, authoritatively; 
 " who has right here but me ? Did na I nurse 
 him on my heart ? O hone a rie ! O hone a 
 rie ! I kiss thy hps again, babe of my breast,, 
 pride of my hfe ! Would that I had died in 
 thy place ! " 
 
 " MacAUister's foster-mother," whispered Fra- 
 ser to Grace. 
 
 "Good dame, come with me," said the dom- 
 inie, kindly. " It will not be long until you see 
 him again." 
 
 " You have had your day, dominie, let me 
 hae mine — I, that have na spoke in twelve years 
 or mair," and she lifted herself up, and spread- 
 ing forth her hands, cried, 
 
 " MacAllister is in the assembly of the good, 
 Here is his tomb and his bed. 
 It is from hence he went to death, 
 From hence to the beginning of peace." 
 
 Then, turning her gleaming eyes on Fraser, 
 she said, " Go back to Strathleven, and say this 
 to Lord Hector : 
 
 " ' Strive not against fate, 
 
 When after Angus comes James. 
 And after James comes John, 
 And after Hector comes Hector, 
 The MacAllister clan is gone.'
 
 246 HE LAST OF THE MAOAL LISTERS. 
 
 " The prophecy is as auld as the clan, O hone 
 a rie ! that these auld een should live to see it 
 come true ! Now you may tak' me away ; when 
 this sun sets I shall go to him who comes not 
 back to me." 
 
 A kind of supernatural awe had fallen on 
 every one; none had the will to interrupt her, 
 and even when she had disappeared a strange 
 inertness prevented for a minute the final act of 
 love. The dominie roused himself first, and 
 touched Fraser and Neil. They re-covered the 
 face, lowered the body, and, with the aid of 
 Cameron and Ewen, filled in the grave. In half 
 an hour there was not a sound in the strath but 
 the lowing of the cattle and the song of the sky- 
 larks. 
 
 Cameron and Grace went back with Fraser to 
 Strathleven. Hector, as Fraser expected, was 
 much worse, and Cameron urged him to allow 
 himself to be carried to Assynt. " There is no 
 use hiding the facts from you, MacAllister, " he 
 said ; " English soldiers are scouring these glens 
 with fire and sword. Fifty of your clan were 
 butchered in cold blood within fifteen miles of 
 home yesterday, and your castle will not escape
 
 THE DEATH OF THE MACALLISTER. 247 
 
 a visit. If they 'spare your life, you will 
 undoubtedly be taken to Edinburgh for trial." 
 
 " They shall na do it. Cameron. It is again 
 the law." 
 
 "My friend, the country is under military 
 law." 
 
 " And that's worse than nane. It is the deil's 
 ain statute-book, a drum-head and a sword. 
 You'd better gang, Hector ; Cameron is thick 
 wi' the vera warst o' the Whigs, and his word 
 will maybe save your head for you. I shall stay 
 here ; I hae been through this mill afore, and I 
 ken the clapping o' it.'' 
 
 Hector, however, resolutely refused to leave 
 Strathleven, and Cameron, after a hasty meal, 
 went back alone to Assynt. 
 
 " And I'll not say but what I think MacAl- 
 lister is right," commented Fraser to Cameron, 
 " for possession is nine tenths o' the law, and, 
 'deed, I rayther think it is ten tenths o' the 
 law." 
 
 " You will stay with him, I suppose ? " 
 
 " You may be sure o' it. Hector is now The 
 MacAllister, and I would think little o' him if 
 he run awa from his rights."
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 A FAREWELL, 
 
 " From Lochbourn to Glenfinnan, the gray mountains 
 ranging, 
 Naught falls on the eye but the changed and the 
 
 changing ; 
 From the hut by the loch-side, the farm by the river, 
 MacDonalds, MacAUisters pass — and forever." 
 
 '• Ha til mi tnlidh ! Ha til mi tulidh ! 
 We return no more! We return no more!" 
 
 Fraser's first thought was of Isabel. He had 
 noticed her at the grave-side, for after all had 
 taken their last look at the old chief she had 
 stood for a moment weeping above him and 
 then silently disappeared. When he found her 
 in the castle she was so completely changed 
 that for a moment he hardly knew her. Her 
 hair, which she had lately dressed as Grace had 
 taught her, was now in gypsy fashion, and was 
 ornamented with a band of Indian coins and 
 bangles. She wore gray ribbed stockings of her 
 own knitting, heavy shoes, laced up the front, a 
 (248)
 
 A FAREWELL. 249 
 
 short linsey petticoat, and a sleeveless bodice of 
 black velvet Immense gold hoops were in her 
 ears, a quaint necklace of Hindoo workmanship 
 around her throat, and broad silver bands 
 clasped her arms around the wrists and above 
 the elbows. 
 
 Fraser looked at her a moment with both 
 pleasure and surprise ; then he said, " What for 
 have ye put on that unchristian-like dress, Isa- 
 bel ? You maun go to Assynt without delay, 
 and that is nae kind o' visiting dress for a 
 respectable family like John Cameron's." 
 
 " I have nothing to do with John Cameron. 
 I like him not." 
 
 "But Grace?" 
 
 "I like her not either. Why should we try 
 to be friends? She is a tame, sleek little house- 
 cat ; I am a lioness of the desert. I am going 
 to my own people." 
 
 " But, Isabel, listen to reason, the glens are 
 full of English soldiers.'' 
 
 " Jasper is waiting for me, and he is well- 
 known to them. No one hurts a gypsy girl ; I 
 shall be always welcome. Can I not dance, and 
 sing, and fiddle, and tell fortunes ? And who 
 loves King George as I do?"
 
 250 THE LAST OF THE dIA CALL IS TERS. 
 
 "Ah, Isabel, that is not true ! " 
 
 " It is true !" she cried, vehemently. "I hate 
 Charles Stuart! See what sorrow he has 
 brought on this good, innocent family, what 
 woes on Scotland, what tens of thousands have 
 fallen by the sword, by the hangman, by hun- 
 ger ! Before to-night's sun sets this very clachan 
 will perish amid flames and the blood of the 
 women and children! Yes, I hate Charles 
 Stuart I I am not of those women who love 
 the hand that strikes them." 
 
 He looked at her flashing eyes and impas- 
 sioned attitude with a kind of fear. The girl at 
 that moment seemed capable of any deed of 
 peril or revenge. She lifted a broad black hat 
 and a little cloak of fine scarlet cloth, and said, 
 in a voice that suddenly changed to pathos and 
 tenderness, " Let me kiss you once, you kind 
 father. Let Isabel kiss you for all the good you 
 have tried to do her." And Fraser, with wet 
 eyes, and a peculiar solemnity of manner, took 
 the slight form in his arms and kissed her. 
 
 " Good-bye, Isabel, good-bye, little lassie. I 
 ken not whether we will ever meet again, but 
 you hae taught me, too, many a gude lesson,
 
 A FAREWELL. 25 I 
 
 child. Won't you see the MacAllister before 
 you go?" 
 
 " I am going to him." She kissed Fraser 
 once more, and then went into the great hall. 
 Hector was walking slowly up and down, his 
 face flushed, and his whole manner betraying the 
 greatest mental suffering. 
 
 " Sit down," she said, authoritatively, " you 
 will need all your strength ; do not waste a foot- 
 step. I am come to say farewell. Listen to me 
 and try to decide calmly. Hawley's dragoons 
 will be here anon. Fraser will be able to spare 
 your life at first, but when Hawley has drunk 
 enough some hour you may perish in a 
 moment's passion. Go with us to Edinburgh 
 in disguise, and when there give yourself up 
 to the civil authorities." 
 
 ' I cannot do such a thing, Isabel. Do you 
 not see that the blame of my escape would fall 
 upon Fraser? I must submit myself to the fate 
 of war and go as Hawley's prisoner." 
 
 " I will take Roderick and hide him in the 
 wood. While Fraser is with Hawley to-night I 
 will see that you escape, and have Roderick 
 saddled and waiting." 
 
 " If you could do that, Isabel ! "
 
 252 THE LAST OF THE 21 ACA LUSTERS. 
 
 *' If you wish it." 
 
 "I do." 
 
 " Then it shall be done." 
 
 " Isabel, if we meet no more, if we meet no 
 more, dear sister, you will take care of Angus? " 
 
 " Ah, that is what I am sure to do ! I shall 
 save him or die with him ! " 
 
 The young chief then kissed her a tender 
 farewell. One thought was in both their hearts, 
 that it was probably their last meeting on earth. 
 In a few minutes he saw her go through the 
 courtyard, leading his favorite horse, and she 
 turned at the gate and gave him a cheerful nod 
 full of hope and intelligence. 
 
 Fraser came in at the moment, and they 
 walked out together, and leaned over the castle 
 wall. The little clachan and the grassy strath 
 lay in an indescribable peace and beauty ; the 
 far- up song of the larks, and the lowing of the 
 cattle in the misty corries, were the only sounds 
 that mingled with the still, white dawn. The 
 men had little heart to speak, and, indeed, there 
 was little use in speculating when every alterna- 
 tive seemed utterly hopeless. 
 
 " When folks dinna ken which road to tak',
 
 A FAREWELL. 253 
 
 it's best to stand still," said Fraser, half to him- 
 self, and as if in answer to some mental dispute. 
 
 Hector smiled faintly. ** The words echo my 
 own thought, Fraser. I will wait and see what 
 comes." 
 
 Instantly, and as if by magic, the lonely strath 
 was filled with horsemen galloping rapidly and 
 steadily forward until there was an unbroken red 
 line from one end to the other. Hector laid his 
 hand on Fraser's shoulder, and a great groan 
 escaped his white lips. Fraser lifted his eyes, and 
 said solemnly, " Into thy care, O God, we com- 
 mend these helpless souls ! " 
 
 Before the words were ended, shrieks, shouts, 
 and fiendish laughter drowned all other sounds, 
 and in less than five minutes every shieling had 
 been fired. It was with difficulty Fraser could 
 then control Hector. He drew his broadsword, 
 and, as men in such supreme moments do, for- 
 get that he was but one man ; he desired only to 
 face his foes, though they were a thousand. 
 
 "You'll go back inside," said Fraser, peremp- 
 torily ; " this is a battle in which one auld lawyer 
 will be worth a' the MacAllisters. I ken Haw- 
 ley, and he kens me. I'll go mysel' and see 
 what can be done wi' him."
 
 254 THE LAST OF THE MA CA LLIS TERS. 
 
 As he went he met some weeping, horrified 
 women who had escaped, coming up to the cas- 
 tle. He took from his pocket some money and 
 gave it to them. 
 
 " There's nae safety there, puir souls ! " he 
 said. " Gae your ways through the forest till 
 you reach the seaside, then gang as quick as 
 possible to Assynt. Cameron will gie you 
 shelter ; and bid him come and help to save 
 MacAUister. Rin awa now, as quick as may 
 be." 
 
 When he reached the strath the work of 
 destruction was complete ; every shieling was a 
 blazing ruin. Ewen, Neil, and four other High- 
 landmen lay upon their swords before Ewen's 
 cottage ; they had evidently stood together 
 determined to sell their lives as dearly as possible, 
 and been shot down without even this poor sat- 
 isfaction. As Eraser passed, some English sol- 
 diers lifted the men and threw them into the 
 fire. 
 
 " Ye are gieing them an auld Roman bury- 
 ing," he said, scornfully. " Fling their swords 
 after them, swords and dirks too, there's nae 
 heritors for them, I'm thinking." 
 
 One of the soldiers turned with an oath, and
 
 A FAREWELL. 2^^ 
 
 pointed his gun at Fraser. The old man put it 
 calmly aside. " Ye hae drunk o' this devil's cup 
 till ye hae lost your senses. I am Andrew 
 Fraser, and if ye touch me you'll hae to count 
 your bill wi' the hangman. Where is Genera] 
 Hawley?" 
 
 The fellow sullenly pointed out a man on a 
 great gray horse, standing on a slight eminence 
 overlooking the work of destruction. Fraser 
 walked steadily towards him. Hawley and he 
 knew each other, perhaps too well. There had 
 been borrowing and lending between them, and 
 some processes of law to put things finally 
 straight between borrower and lender. 
 
 Fraser was uncertain how these memories 
 would affect Hawley, and Hawley was ponder- 
 ing the conditions on which the borrowing could 
 again be best affected. He was uncertain what 
 side Fraser had taken in the rebellion. If he had 
 gone with Prince Charles the way was clear and 
 straight; Fraser would have to buy, at his valu- 
 ation, a safe passport to France; but if he had 
 retained his allegiance to King George, the road 
 to the old lawyer's pocket would be more diffi- 
 cult. 
 
 " Morning, General," said Fraser, as calmly as
 
 256 THE LAST OF THE MACALLISTERS. 
 
 if they were both on the planestones of Perth 
 city. 
 
 The general turned haughtily, but, pretending 
 to recognize Fraser, said, " Good-morning, Mr. 
 Fraser. I hope I see a friend of his majesty's." 
 
 "You see a gude subject o' King George, and 
 a gude friend o' General Hawley's to command, 
 I cam' to ask you to Strathleven, or maybe 
 you'd prefer to go to Assynt, where there is 
 every comfort o' gude meat and wine, and gude 
 company forbye." 
 
 " I am for Strathleven first. There is a rebel 
 there whose case I must attend to before I seek 
 my own comfort Has Hector MacAllister 
 fled?" 
 
 " Not he ! What for should he flee from his 
 ain hame ? " 
 
 "To save his life. He has been in arms 
 against the king," 
 
 " You are a' wrang there, General. He was 
 everything but killed before the rebellion began, 
 and he has na touched sword nor gun for nine 
 months. But, gude heavens, general ! Your 
 men are firing the barns and storehouses and 
 killing the sheep and cattle; the puir dumb 
 beasts are na rebels, onyway! "
 
 A FAREWELL. 25/ 
 
 " I obey the duke's orders. I am to kill the 
 males of all the rebel clans, and destroy every- 
 thing that can support life." 
 
 " Weel, I maun say, if I die for it, that an 
 ofiRcer's commission in the duke's army is vera 
 like a butcher s license." 
 
 " Mr. Fraser, consider yourself under arrest 
 I really do not know why I should be talking 
 with you at all. The Erasers have all been out, 
 I believe. Is there any reason you should be 
 exempted? " 
 
 Fraser took out the protection sent him by 
 Duncan Forbes, and said, " I think that will 
 exempt me. General." 
 
 " Certainly, Mr. Fraser, I recognize the author- 
 ity of that document. Excuse me if I have 
 been uncivil. I will go with you to Strathleven 
 and see MacAllister. But I confess that I shall 
 oppose saving him, he comes of a rebellious 
 stock. His brother is known to be with Charles 
 Stuart, and he intended and wished to be out." 
 
 " But you canna punish a man for wishing to 
 do wrang, General. If that was any law, civil 
 or military, we should all hae to kill one anither. 
 He was na out. Whether he wished to be out 
 or not is naebody's business."
 
 258 THE LAST OF THE 3IACAL LISTERS. 
 
 This position was disputed with some acri- 
 mony ; but one safe point had been touched ere 
 they reached the castle. Hawley had insinuated 
 that a fine might perhaps be accepted as indem- 
 nity, and Fraser had remarked that he " had a 
 liking for the lad, and would be willing to gie a 
 few hundred pounds if he could be got awa to 
 France till things were settled." 
 
 However, when Hawley entered the castle 
 hall and saw Hector, he took to the young man 
 one of those sudden and unaccountable hatreds 
 which defy all our analyzation, and probably 
 have their origin in something that this hfe gives 
 no hint of. 
 
 "Give me your sword, sir!" were his first 
 words. 
 
 The haughty grace with which Hector com- 
 plied with this command seemed to irritate him 
 beyond all necessity. 
 
 " Take off his sash and bind his arms behind 
 him," he said to a lieutenant. " Let two men 
 watch continually. Mr. Fraser, I will thank 
 you to order some breakfast for me and my 
 staff. " 
 
 The order was more easily given than obeyed. 
 The women had taken Hector's advice and
 
 A FAREWELL. 259 
 
 gone to Assynt. There was nothing to eat in 
 Strathleven. This state of affairs did not 
 improve Hawley's temper, and at length he 
 determined to go to Assynt with his prisoner. 
 
 They met Cameron half-way ; he was greatly 
 shocked to find Hector bound and a prisoner, 
 but a look from Fraser made him understand 
 that any attempt to interfere at present in the 
 young chief's favor might be fatal to him. The 
 journey was a very unpleasant one, but Haw- 
 ley's manner changed a little for the better 
 when he found himself amid the elegances and 
 comforts of Cameron's home. Greatly to Era- 
 ser's amazement, Grace appeared to welcome 
 them. She had taken exceeding pains with her 
 toilet, and met Hawley with a fascinating cordi- 
 ality. Hawley felt its power at once, he spoke 
 with less noise and authority, and was alto- 
 gether less offensive. 
 
 The dinner and wines were excellent, and the 
 general seemed inclined to prolong their pleas- 
 ures. John Cameron, at a hint from Fraser, had 
 excused himself early in the evening, for, as the 
 wine disappeared, the lawyer and the soldier 
 were growing confidential, and even friendly. 
 In fact, they were discussing the terms on
 
 26o THE LAST OF THE MACALLISTERS. 
 
 which Hector would be allowed to return to 
 Strathleven as a non-combatant under bonds for 
 good behavior. Not that Fraser trusted in the 
 faith or honor of Havvley regarding any such 
 agreement ; he simply hoped to insure Hector's 
 life until he could enter into recognized and 
 lawful arrangements for the settlement of Mac- 
 AUister's position. 
 
 In the meantime two women were consider- 
 ing the same question. Cameron had given 
 Grace a large sum of money, without a word, 
 but she knew that it was to be used for Hector's 
 freedom. She managed to make Fraser under- 
 stand he must keep Hawley interested by any 
 pretext; beyond this she was fairly at a loss 
 what step to take. 
 
 Hector, with his guard of eight men, was in 
 the large kitchen of Assynt, and she ordered for 
 this guard a sumptuous repast and whiskey in 
 abundance. " I must fight evil with evil," she 
 thought. "When men are drunk they forget 
 their duty.'' 
 
 About eight o'clock she determined to go 
 and see what the chances for Hector's escape 
 were. Her heart sank as she neared the ser- 
 vants' quarter and heard the tipsy shouts of
 
 A FAREWELL. 26 1 
 
 laughter and the wild clapping of hands. She 
 stood still to listen, though she felt sure that it 
 would be impossible for her to enter the room. 
 Then she heard a voice that amazed her, a wild, 
 clear voice, singing a song that she knew could 
 come from no one but Isabel. Something of 
 curiosity and something of pique now mingled 
 with her fear and anxiety. This girl was again 
 between Hector and herself. She could not 
 bear the uncertainty, and she opened the door. 
 
 Isabel saw her in a moment, and by an almost 
 imperceptilale movement of the eyes asked her 
 to come forward. Isabel was standing on a 
 large table, singing, and dancing the Romalis, 
 while a handsome gypsy youth sat on the floor, 
 and accompanied her movements with the tam- 
 bourine. At her entrance the guard moved 
 impatiently, but stood up to receive her. She 
 made gracious inquiries as to their treatment, 
 ordered more liquor and refreshments, and pre- 
 tended to be much interested in their gypsy 
 entertainers. 
 
 While she was asking Isabel some questions 
 relating to her dance, the youth with the tam- 
 bourine rose, asked her gracefully for alms, and
 
 262 THE LAST OF THE MACALLISTERS. 
 
 softly whispered, after his effusive thanks, " Bring 
 us a pair of scissors." 
 
 She knew the voice ; she looked earnestly at 
 the gypsy, and she knew him. It was Angus. 
 One look between them was sufficient. Then 
 she left the kitchen, managing as she did so to 
 pass Hector and drop her fan at his feet ; and as 
 she stooped for it to whisper a few words of 
 love and hope. 
 
 Grace went first among her women, and had 
 a conversation with them, the result of which 
 was that one by one they joined in the revelry, 
 and in half an hour it was evident, from the 
 sound of a fiddle and the stamp of feet, that 
 a general dance had succeeded to Isabel's solo 
 performance. Then Grace dressed herself in 
 her maid's simplest costume, snooded back her 
 hair like a peasant girl, and in a moment of the 
 wildest fun slipped in among the dancers. She 
 passed Angus several times, however, before she 
 could find a safe opportunity to give him the 
 scissors and the gold. 
 
 When she did so, Angus whispered, " Tell 
 him that Jasper holds his horse at the north 
 gate. I will be here to help him at the proper 
 hour. Bid him keep awake."
 
 A FAREWELL. 263 
 
 It was SO long- before she found any oppor- 
 tunity of approaching the prisoner with this 
 message that only her great love for Hector 
 could have nerved her to bear the ordeal. But 
 at length Isabel and Angus took an ostentatious 
 leave of the company ; they had perceived that 
 the guards were no longer masters of their 
 senses. They, indeed, took the precaution to 
 examine Hector, who was apparently asleep on 
 a pallet of bracken in a corner. Stupidly they 
 turned him over, looked in his face, and tried 
 his bonds; and then, appointing two of their 
 number for the first watch, the others fell at 
 once into a deep unconsciousness. 
 
 Hector was painfully awake. He knew that 
 Angus had been present; he expected him to 
 return every moment. Nor had he long to 
 wait. In half an hour he stole into the kitchen, 
 and, keeping in the darkest shadows, glided up 
 behind Hector, set his hands free, and whis- 
 pered, " Come !" Just as they reached the door 
 one of the watch moved in his drunken doze 
 and muttered something. 
 
 " Go on," said Angus to Hector, " I will speak 
 to him. What are you dreaming about, my 
 brother?"
 
 264 THE LAST OF THE MACALLISTERS. 
 
 " Oh, is it you ? "' 
 
 " It is me, my brother ; me, the gypsy boy ." 
 
 " I had a dream — a bad dream." 
 
 " Lie down now. I will tell you what it 
 means in the morning.'- 
 
 In a moment or two the man had dropped 
 heavily off to sleep again, and then Angus fol- 
 lowed Hector to the north gate. Jasper held 
 the horse, ready to start. Hector held Grace 
 against his breast in a sad, heart-breaking 
 embrace. 
 
 "Haste, my brother, haste!" whispered 
 Angus ; " all our lives are in danger." 
 
 Then Grace and her maid turned silently 
 away. Hector, stooping from his horse, took 
 the hands of Angus and Jasper in one passion- 
 ate grip, and the little company disappeared as 
 if by magic. 
 
 It was scarcely daylight when the noise and 
 tumult in Assynt warned Grace that Hector's 
 flight had been discovered. Hawley was soon 
 awake, and unspairing in his insolent accusa- 
 tions both of Fraser and Cameron, and he 
 would have put both gentlemen under arrest 
 if they had not been protected by President 
 Forbes's authority. Strangely enough, the real
 
 A FAREWELL 265 
 
 culprits were never suspected ; and even when 
 some one suggested the gypsies the captain of 
 the guard refused to entertain the idea — "he 
 had himself put them out of the house and 
 locked the door after them." Of course he did 
 not know that Margery had very gladly opened 
 it again, in obedience to Grace's commands. 
 
 Hawley refused any further entertainment, 
 mounted his company in hot haste, and, in the 
 hearing of Cameron and Fraser, said, 
 
 " My men, it is the MacAllister you are to 
 find, and when found, I want no prisoner. You 
 understand me ? " 
 
 Fortunately for Hector he had a horse very 
 swift and powerful, and almost as intelligent as 
 a human being. The best and shortest way to 
 Edinburgh was also well known to him, and as 
 he approached the city he judged it most pru- 
 dent to keep to the open road, and ride as if 
 there was no necessity to avoid notice. He 
 reached Leith in safety, but was so exceedingly 
 exhausted that he determined to throw himself 
 on the mercy and generosity of President 
 Forbes. 
 
 He rode straight to his house and asked for 
 an interview. That noble man, and best of
 
 266 THE LAST OF THE MACALLISTERS. 
 
 whigs, granted the request at once, though it' 
 must be acknowledged he was somewhat 
 amazed when the fainting man tottered towards 
 him and said, "I am Hector MacAlhster; I am 
 fleeing for my life ! Do what you think best 
 with me, President." 
 
 " Then, MacAllister, if you submit yourself 
 to me, I think bed, and some meat and drink, 
 best for you;" and with these words he led 
 Hector away to a sleeping-room, and bade him 
 be at perfect ease until he could decide what 
 must be done. 
 
 There was really little to decide ; the only 
 plan promising peace or safety at the time was 
 to escape from the country. Prince Charles was 
 yet at large, and some of the nobles were still in 
 arms in the extreme northern and western High- 
 lands. Until the prince was secured there would 
 be no mercy for his adherents, and the scaffolds 
 and gibbets of the country were finishing the 
 bloody work begun at CuUoden. 
 
 " You must go to Holland, MacAllister," said 
 his preserver; " until these unhappy days are 
 over. I counsel you to avoid all intercourse 
 with France, or the unhappy House of Stuart, 
 and Andrew Fraser and John Cameron together
 
 A FAREWELL. 267 
 
 will surely be able to finally save your name and 
 estate." 
 
 Two weeks afterwards Cameron arrived in 
 Edinburgh with his daughter, who was seriously 
 ill. They were accompanied by Fraser, who 
 was very restless and miserable ; but the whole 
 party were rendered comparatively happy by a 
 few casual remarks of President Forbes. 
 
 " You are still factor for the MacAllisters, I 
 suppose, Fraser ? " 
 
 " I dinna ken whether there be any o' them 
 living," said the old man, with a trembling voice. 
 
 " I heard of Hector MacAUister to-day ; he is 
 in Amsterdam," 
 
 " The Lord be thanked, and may his blessing 
 be on Duncan Forbes ! " 
 
 " My friend, we will give God all the thanks." 
 
 " Ay, ay, we are all his subjects." Then, quite 
 unable to control himself longer, he said, " I 
 dinna care what comes o' it, Forbes. I loved 
 thae MacAllisters root and branch, father and 
 sons, and I am fair broken-hearted about the 
 ruin of such an auld, grand family." 
 
 " Why should it be ruined ? Things will sort 
 themselves soon. MacAUister has powerful 
 friends ; he can pay a fine and keep his estate if
 
 268 
 
 THE LAST OF THE MACALLISTERS. 
 
 he will only have the sense to lie low till the 
 storm blows over. He will come to his own 
 again, never fear! " 
 
 " You think sae, Forbes." 
 
 " I do." 
 
 "Then Andrew Fraser will awa back to 
 Strathleven and keep things thegither." 
 
 " I think for humanity's sake you ought to do 
 that. The widows and children of the dead 
 clansmen must be suffering for food and shelter. 
 As the poor fellows themselves straggle back 
 they will need some helper and adviser." 
 
 " I will go, Forbes ; I will go at ance. If the 
 question of MacAllister should come up when 
 I am not about, ye'll see and get the fine made 
 as light as possible, it will hae to come out o' 
 my pocket in the meantime." 
 
 " I will do all I can to pleasure you, Fraser ; 
 but you must mind that I am not the court, I 
 am simply the president of the court." 
 
 So Fraser, after imparting the news of Hec- 
 tor's safety to Cameron and Grace, prepared to 
 go back to Strathleven. It was very welcome 
 news to both of them, and Grace whispered, 
 " Dear Mr. Fraser, you are the best of all doc- 
 tors, and I will soon come and help you to put
 
 A FAREWELL. 269 
 
 the castle of Strathleven in order for Hector's 
 return." 
 
 There seemed little prospect of this. In spite 
 of the enormous sum set upon Prince Charlie's 
 head no one would betray him. Month after 
 month passed, scores of the humbler classes had 
 perished by the hangman, and great numbers of 
 the noblest heads in Scotland had been laid upon 
 the headsman's block, but neither for fear of 
 death nor love of gold would they give up to 
 his enemies the poor prince who had brought 
 such desolation on the land he loved. 
 
 However, with the hope held out by Forbes, 
 Fraser returned to Strathleven and gathered 
 together the poor remains of the once powerful 
 sept. Fortunately it was summer weather, and 
 a few bothies in the forest sheltered those who 
 could not find shelter in the castle. Fish was 
 plentiful in the lochs and game on the hills, and, 
 with John Cameron's aid, enough meal to last 
 them many months was stored in one of the 
 large rooms of the castle. 
 
 In the following September it became known 
 that Prince Charles, after incredible dangers and 
 sufferings, had escaped with a number of gentle- 
 men to France, and that they had been received
 
 2/0 THE LAST OF THE MACALLISTERS. 
 
 by King Louis with an ovation. Both England 
 and Scotland received the news with satisfac- 
 tion. Even the most rabid whigs were satiated 
 with slaughter ; and there were hundreds of 
 thousands who, though opposed to Prince 
 Charles on political grounds, had yet a chival- 
 rous admiration for his youth, valor, and suffer- 
 ings, and also a sincere respect for the men who 
 had served him with such passionate unselfish 
 devotion. 
 
 In the full tide of this merciful reaction 
 Eraser procured a hearing of the MacAllister 
 case. In point of law there was nothing against 
 Hector; he had never been in the field for the 
 Stuarts. But his father had forfeited the estate 
 by dying in active rebellion on the field of Cul- 
 loden. It required all the powerful influence 
 that Eraser could bring to bear upon the Court 
 of Sequestrations to save Strathleven for a family 
 identified with every rising for the exiled Stuarts. 
 Einally, however, Hector was allowed to return 
 to his estate, on the condition of paying a fine 
 of ;^io,ooo, and giving bonds for his future 
 loyalty in the sum of ;{J" 100,000. 
 
 It was a sad enough home-coming for him,
 
 A FAREWELL. 2/1 
 
 although it was in the full glory of the northern 
 summer. 
 
 " But we'll soon hae a' bonnie as Assynt," 
 said Fraser. " I hae the plans ready, and in ten 
 years, if you be carefu' and thrifty, you'll be the 
 richest man in Sutherland." 
 
 Then Hector remembered with a pang how 
 he had first discussed these plans with Fraser, 
 and how impatient he had then felt of a system 
 which had since found a bloody though famous 
 grave with the noblest hearts in Scotland. 
 
 " But I shall insist on the clan following your 
 advice, Fraser," he said, firmly ; " it shall be 
 good for them as well as for me," 
 
 Fraser looked at him sadly. 
 
 " Hector," he said, " you must hear the truth, 
 and you must thole it bravely. The poorest 
 MacAllister that ever wore brogues is as much 
 laird o' himsel' now as you are. You'll hae to 
 hire such o' them as choose to wark for you. 
 Your father was the last chief o' MacAllister ! " 
 
 " And what am I, then ? " 
 
 " Just Maister MacAllister, that is a'. There 
 have been twa or three acts passed since you 
 left Scotland that will mak' many a ane ask 
 whether they are themsel's or some ithcr body.
 
 2/2 THE LAST OF THE MACALLISTERS. 
 
 In the first place, you'll no be allowed to wear 
 dirk or sword again. All Highlanders are to gie 
 up their arms next month. You are nato speak 
 Gaelic, nor wear a bit o' tartan, nor don a kilt 
 or philibeg main You'll hae to stick to your 
 French fashions and braidcloth now. If ye 
 dinna, ye'U be sent o'er the seas for seven 
 years." 
 
 " But these are outrages ? " 
 
 " Ay, ay, but what can't be cured must be 
 endured, and there's worse to come. The next 
 act abolished all heritable jurisdiction, and 
 absolved every clansman from his allegiance. 
 You are the law no longer to them. Ye 
 daurna lay a finger now on the meanest gillie 
 that tak's his oatmeal from you. But dinna 
 hang your head, man, you arc MacAllister for 
 a' that, and you'll wark, and save money, and 
 folks wi' money can buy aught they want, a 
 dukedom, an' they fancy it." 
 
 The loss of his power and family title was a 
 great blow to Hector, but it was broken by 
 some familiarity with English customs, and by 
 an education that had in some measure prepared 
 him for the change. He had sense enough to 
 accept graciously what he could not refuse, and
 
 A FAREWELL. 273 
 
 to enter heart and soul into those plans for the 
 improvement of his immense tracts of land 
 which had already been projected by Cameron 
 and Fraser. In these changes the rights of 
 Angus frequently came up for discussion. It 
 was known now that he was with Prince Charles 
 in France, and actually in command of one of 
 the regiments stationed at Dieppe, Boulogne, 
 and Calais, which were impatiently awaiting the 
 efforts of the Stuarts with the courts of France 
 and Spain. 
 
 " But Charles will never raise another army, 
 and they will hae to disband sooner or later, and 
 by that time the Act o' Indemnity will be passed, 
 and Angus can come his ways hame again," said 
 Fraser. 
 
 " He shall have the Reay country," said Hec- 
 tor, with ready generosity ; " he always liked it." 
 
 " That is breaking your land in twa, Hector ; 
 the estate maun be kept thegither from Reay to 
 Assynt, that and no less. We maun find some 
 ither way for Angus, I'll no hear tell o' break- 
 ing the land." 
 
 On this subject Frazcr could come to no set- 
 tlement, but it was finally taken out of their
 
 2/4 THE LAST OF THE MACALLISTERS. 
 
 hands and decided for them in a way that 
 neither of them could have anticipated. 
 
 One evening in the early part of December, 
 1748, more than three years after the rebellion, 
 Fraser was sitting before the blazing fire in his 
 own parlor at Dornoch. A small round table 
 stood on the hearthrug, with a pretty tea-service 
 on it, and a plate of toast stood browning on the 
 broad steel fender. He had put on his slippers 
 and old coat, and as he sat warming his toes 
 before the fire he looked complacently at the 
 cold meats and potted fish that were so com- 
 fortably arranged before him. 
 
 " I wonder now what is keeping Kirsty and 
 the teapot?" he said, impatiently; and then he 
 rose and went towards the parlor door. He had 
 probably some intention of hurrying Kirsty, but 
 before he reached the door he reached the win- 
 dow, and his attention was arrested by the heavy 
 flakes of snow darkening the whole horizon. 
 
 " Just in time. I wonder whether the sheep- 
 faulds on the Reay Hills are finished ! " Full 
 of this thought, he stood a moment at the win- 
 dow, and as he did so a carriage drove rapidly 
 to his gate. The sight was so unusual in the 
 little highland town that he did not move until
 
 A FAREWELL. 275 
 
 he saw descend from it a tall, military-looking 
 man. The next moment he was at the open 
 door, bareheaded, calling out joyfully, " Angus ! 
 Angus ! I ken it's you. Come in, you dear 
 lad ! " 
 
 " Oh, Fraser, but I am glad to see you ! Go 
 in out of the snow. Have you room for my 
 wife?'' 
 
 " Bring her in. Bring her in. What are you 
 keeping the puir thing in the storm for ? " And 
 Fraser ran back and stirred up the fire and 
 pulled the sofa beside it, and called up old 
 Kirsty with a promptitude that almost sent the 
 old woman into a fit. 
 
 " Oh, my bonnie woman, but you're gladly 
 welcome!" he said, as he stooped and kissed 
 the dark, handsome face lifted to his. "Tak' 
 off your cloak, my dawtie," and he began to 
 undo the small gold clasps. 
 
 " Be careful, be careful, Mr. Fraser," said Isa- 
 bel ; and as Fraser threw off the velvet and fur 
 wrap, there she stood blushing and smiling, 
 with a lovely infant, fast asleep, clasped against 
 her breast. 
 
 " Take care, you must not wake him, it is lit- 
 tle Andrew Fraser."
 
 2/6 TEE LAST OF THE MACALLISTERS. 
 
 " You don't say so ! Oh, the bonnie bit bairn! 
 And it's a lad bairn. And it's my ain name- 
 sake! This is mair than I can bear. Let me 
 hold him, lassie." 
 
 "No, no, you might wake him, and then he 
 would be very cross and angry. Get some pil- 
 lows and put them on the sofa, and we will lay 
 him down." 
 
 It was really a charming sight to watch the 
 old man and the beautiful mother bending over 
 the fine, sturdy little fellow, and Angus enjoyed 
 it keenly. 
 
 " I dinna care much for bairns," he said, with 
 an air of apology, " but your bairn, and my 
 namesake, is a bairn out o' the common." And 
 again he stooped and softly touched the dimpled 
 hands, that seemed miracles of beauty to him. 
 
 It was a wonderful evening ; Fraser was never 
 tired of admiring Isabel and the baby. She was 
 greatly improved. Teachers, modistes, and 
 good society had done much for her. She 
 had been tenderly loved, and shielded from 
 sun and storm, and her beauty had acquired 
 that milder grace and delicacy which imparted 
 to it its crowning charm. It pleased Fraser to 
 see that she was in no way spoiled. She retained
 
 A FAREWELL. 2'J'J 
 
 all her pretty oriental ways of silence and lov- 
 ing submission. To her, Angus was evidently 
 something greater and better than any mortal 
 man. It was a grief to Fraser when she com-^ 
 plained of weariness and lifted her baby to 
 retire. He asked to be allowed to hold it in his 
 arms a minute, and Isabel laid it against his 
 breast. His eyes filled with tears, and he turned 
 to Angus with a look of intense pleasure. 
 
 "Thank you, my dear lad," he said, softly; 
 " you hae gien me the height o' pleasure." 
 
 When they were alone both remained silent 
 a few minutes. Angus spoke first. 
 
 "So Hector is married?" 
 
 "Ay is he. It is a good marriage, Angus. 
 They loved each ither, and its a grand estate 
 now." 
 
 " They waited long." 
 
 "That was Cameron's fault. He wasna for 
 the marriage till the Act o' Indemnity had 
 passed. If it had been before, the court might 
 hae got some plea for a bigger fine. MacAl- 
 lister wedded to John Cameron's heiress would 
 hae been too cheap at ten thousand pounds. 
 There was nae use flinging awa guid gold, and 
 they are prudent young things, and took the
 
 2/8 THE LAST OF THE MACALLISTERS. 
 
 advice o' them that kent the warld and its ways. 
 But we had a grand wedding after the act, and 
 John Cameron gied his daughter fifty thousand 
 pounds down. There are wonderfu' improve- 
 ments going on. I am doubting, though, if you 
 can get o'er the mountains till this snaw melts.'' 
 
 " I must. Our ship is at Leith, a week is all 
 the time I have." 
 
 "Your ship! Now whaur are you going?" 
 
 " I am going to the Virginia colony. It is a 
 grand country, and there are plenty of highland- 
 men there who went after Killiecrankie and 
 Sheriffmuir. It is the place for born arabs like 
 Isabel and me," 
 
 " Then Charles Stuart comes no more to Scot- 
 land." 
 
 "No more! Never again, Fraser. The 
 treaty signed last October at Aix-la-Chapelle 
 compelled Louis to put him out of France. 
 Our regiments were disbanded, and the prince, 
 broken-hearted, retired to Avignon." 
 
 "And you love him yet, I see." 
 
 " Love him ? I would die to serve him this 
 hour. I did not leave him till he bade me do 
 so. My prince ! my prince ! " sobbed Angus 
 passionately.
 
 A FAREWELL. 2/9 
 
 "Hush, hush, Angus; I canna bear it; there 
 are gude days coming yet to Scotland." 
 
 " The Scotland of my father was good enough 
 for me. I love Scotland, but I hate George, 
 and when Scotland's enemies make Scotland's 
 laws I cannot thole the shame of it. I must see 
 Hector, and then I leave Scotland forever, 
 unless, unless — " 
 
 " Nay, nay, Angus. The Stuarts will never ' 
 come back here as kings. They may ask now 
 for puir Rob Roy's coronach: 'Ha til mi tulidh! 
 We return no more ! ' " 
 
 The next morning Angus started for Strath- 
 leven alone. Isabel was not so anxious to see 
 Hector and Grace as to risk the mountain pass- 
 age with her baby, and Fraser was very eager 
 for them to remain with him. Indeed, Angus 
 himself was unable to accomplish it, and after a 
 desperate but abortive effort was obliged to 
 return to Dornoch. However, there are conso- 
 lations in all disappointments, and Angus com- 
 forted himself with the thought that he should 
 at least carry with him into the West the 
 memory of an unchanged Strathleven — "and of 
 Hector, too," he added, mournfully. " Hector 
 must have changed, when all around him has
 
 28o THE LAST OF THE MAGALLISTERS. 
 
 changed. I would rather keep the memory of 
 his face as I saw it that night he fled away from 
 Assynt, when he stooped down from Rode- 
 rick's back and kissed me Farewell." 
 
 The week passed all too swiftly for Fraser. 
 It was, perhaps, the happiest week of his whole 
 life. He gave up his entire time to Isabel and 
 wee Andrew, and he scarcely knew which of 
 them he loved better. 
 
 At last the day came for them to sail. It was 
 a bright, cold day, and Fraser carried wee 
 Andrew in his arms to the ship. The child had 
 become very fond of him, and it was a pleasant 
 sight to see how its baby ways lightened the 
 grief of parting. He gave it to Isabel with a 
 blessing, and then hurried away from the little 
 outstretched arms. 
 
 And in that moment, somehow, he thought 
 of his old friend MacAUister, and of his tender 
 love for his son Angus, and, as old Scotchmen 
 often do yet, he lifted his bonnet solemnly to the 
 memory, and grasped Angus's hand with an 
 almost fatherly love and sorrow. 
 
 " Gude-bye, my dear, dear lad. I shall not 
 die till you come back to me; I shall wait for 
 you. You will not disappoint me, and' you'll
 
 A FAREWELL. 
 
 281 
 
 bring up in a God-fearing way yon dear bairn, 
 and you'll be a gude husband to yon bonnie 
 woman ; and when you reach Norfolk just call 
 on Peter MacDonald & Company, tobacco mer- 
 chants, and you'll find that I have na forgotten 
 you ; " and with these words poor Fraser pulled 
 his bonnet dourly over his brow, and with a sore 
 heart turned away from the three faces he loved 
 best on earth.
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 AFTER LONG YEARS. 
 
 "Make room for rest around me ! 
 Till, in deep calms of space, my soul 
 May right her nature." 
 
 Many assert that life to be the most happy 
 which affords no material for record. After the 
 three stormy years of the rebellion such a life 
 had fallen to the lot of Andrew Eraser, and calm 
 prosperity and success had been added to the 
 blessing of a wonderfully green old age. 
 
 It was twenty-seven years since he had parted 
 from Angus, and he was still waiting for his 
 return, waiting it now with a hope and impa- 
 tience that was very trying to his aged heart, 
 for he had written and asked Angus to come 
 and see him once more, and he was anxiously 
 looking for the answer to his letter. He had 
 calculated the time carefully, he had made allow- 
 ances for all likely detentions, the letter was now 
 due, and he was watching for it. 
 
 A heavy snow was falling, and the air was 
 strangely still. He had walked restlessly all 
 (282)
 
 AFTER LONG YEARS. 283 
 
 day between the fireplace and the window, but 
 the early night settled down, and it was now 
 hopeless to expect the postman. Kirsty came 
 in with the tea-tray, and reminded him, a little 
 authoritatively, that he " was an auld man now, 
 and had nae business awa from the fireside on 
 sic a stormy day." 
 
 He sat down with a sigh, and put his slip- 
 pered feet upon the fender. There was an air 
 of sadness and disappointment upon his face, as 
 true and unaffected as that one often sees on the 
 face of a little child, and Kirsty, with ready 
 sympathy, set herself to relieve it. 
 
 " I just brought in twa cups," she said, cheer- 
 ily. " There has been a stranger on the bars for 
 three nights running, an' the cat has been wash- 
 ing her face as if the king himsel' was coming. 
 I'm maist sure you'll be haeing company. Dea- 
 con." 
 
 While she was speaking he had stood up, 
 with head eagerly bent forward, and every sense 
 strained to the utmost. 
 
 "I hear him coming, Kirsty! Set wide the 
 door, my woman." 
 
 " ' Deed, Deacon, I'll do nae such thing, siccan 
 a night as this."
 
 284 THE LAST OF THE MACALLISTERS. 
 
 "You'll open the door, Kirsty! Quick, 
 woman, he's chapping at it now. I'll go 
 mysel'." 
 
 And sure enough there was a loud and eager 
 knocking and the stamping of snow-bound feet, 
 and the next moment the cheery sounds of a voice 
 that shook the old man's soul to its deepest 
 depth. 
 
 " Fraser ! Fraser ! how are you, dear old 
 friend?" 
 
 " Angus ! Angus ! I kent you'd come. I 
 kent you'd bring your ain answer. Oh, my dear 
 lad, I am willing to go now that my een hae 
 seen you ance again. What are you standing 
 there for, Kirsty? Bring in the boiling water, 
 and the best of a' there is in the house." 
 
 " Why, Fraser ! You scarcely look any older 
 than when I left you." 
 
 " But I feel aulder. I haena been o'er to 
 Strathleven for twa years, Angus, and then I 
 went in a carriage, and had to tak' a rest or twa. 
 I shall never go again o'er the bonnie hills, it 
 was my farewell visit to the castle. And I canna 
 walk as I used to do, and I canna read or write 
 much now, but thank God I hae little need to 
 do either much now, and yonder letter I wrote
 
 AFTER LONG YEARS. 285 
 
 to you is dootless my last ane. But my wark is 
 a* done, and my house is in order, and now that 
 you hae come my heart is quite satisfied. I'll 
 just hae to wait calmly now till I am dismissed." 
 
 " How is Hector? I have heard little of him 
 for many years." 
 
 " Did you not get a letter from him a few days 
 after mine? " 
 
 " No ; I left within twenty -four hours after the 
 receipt of yours. It would have been an ill 
 thing to keep such love as yours waiting, and if 
 I had never seen you again I should have found 
 it hard to forgive myself." 
 
 " That is like you, dear lad. Then you hae a 
 deal to see and hear tell o', but it is a' gude. 
 First you maun tell me o' Isabel and yoursel', 
 and o' a' that belangs to you, for you were a 
 meeserable letter-writer, and I ken little anent 
 your affairs. You hae built a new Strathleven, 
 I made that much out. Whar is it? " 
 
 " If there is a paradise on earth it stands 
 within it, Fraser. But it is not like the old 
 Strathleven. It is only a big, white, rambling 
 house, with deep verandas on every side, and 
 every veranda is covered with vines of wonderful 
 flowers or of great purple grapes. The humming-
 
 286 THE LAST OF THE MACALLISTERS. 
 
 birds flit among the blossoms, and the swallows 
 build under the eaves and chatter to the children 
 who play beneath them. It has a lovely park 
 full of great oaks and beeches, and the park 
 slopes down to the corn and wheat and tobacco 
 fields. There are the blue mountains behind 
 and a grand river in front, and the endless woods 
 and plains stretch away and away, hundreds of 
 miles away." 
 
 "Thank God! And you are rich and 
 happy ? " 
 
 " I am rich, and I am very happy." 
 " And Isabel. Bonnie woman, what o' her ? " 
 " Isabel has borne me ten children, six braw 
 sons and four lasses, almost as lovely as herself. 
 And, Fraser, you will rejoice over this news, she 
 has learned to pray with her children. No one 
 can call her a pagan now, she was baptized more 
 than twenty years ago." 
 
 " I thank God, Angus, wi* my whole heart I 
 thank him for this news. Now, about my wee 
 Andrew?" 
 
 "He is a fine stalwart fellow, a head taller 
 than ever you were, Fraser, and very like my 
 dear father. You heard of his marriage, I sup- 
 pose? "
 
 AFTER LONG YEARS. 28/ 
 
 "Yes, yes; a French lassie, you said ? " 
 
 •* The daughter of a noble French protestant 
 emigrant, Lucia de Fontaine. She had no 
 money." 
 
 " Tut, tut, she had birth and was of the right 
 faith, and if she had beauty and virtue, that is 
 as much as any man deserves. I approve o' 
 my Andrew no wedding money, it is just what 
 T expected o' a lad called after my honest 
 name." 
 
 "My second son, Hector, married a little Eng- 
 lish girl, and pushed west to the Blue Ridge. 
 Gavin is at home with his mother, he is manag- 
 ing for me in my absence. Isabel, our eldest 
 daughter, is wed to young Francis Beaufort, the 
 Beauforts are a fine old family." 
 
 " I ken that. I looked up the family when I 
 heard tell o' the marriage." 
 
 "The others are at Isabel's knees yet. She 
 has been a noble wife to me, Fraser. We have 
 been very happy." 
 
 "And the land, man? I hope you hae ta'en 
 care to get plenty o' land. Land is the main 
 thing, Angus. Hae you done as I told you ? " 
 
 " There are forty thousand acres of the finest 
 land in the world in the name of MacAllister.
 
 288 THE LAST OF THE MACALLISTERS. 
 
 Every son of mine will have a fine estate,' 
 there is space enough for children and children's 
 children to spread the name." 
 
 "If they'll stick thegither, Angus, if they 
 will only stick thegither ! But they hae got a 
 roving drop in their veins. Hector, you say, 
 has gone west already ? " 
 
 " He chose the farthest away land that I owned 
 as his portion. He has my own fancy to be by 
 himself" 
 
 " Weel, weel, for a' that has come and gone, 
 you hae had a grand fortune, Angus. You are 
 satisfied ? " 
 
 *' I am very happy. I did well to go to Vir- 
 ginia. When changes come it is best to take 
 them in your own hand. I have always been 
 glad that I did not see Strathleven before I left, 
 for all these years I have had the blessing 
 of the old memory. Now I shall lose that, for 
 I must get over the hills somehow this time." 
 
 "It will not be hard to get over the hills now. 
 The earl has had a fine road made, and there are 
 change-houses, and all conveniences for travel. 
 The earl's carriage was here a week syne, had 
 I kent you were coming I would hae detained 
 it."
 
 AFTER LONG YEARS. 289 
 
 "Thank you, Fraser; but I like not to take 
 favors from strangers. A good horse is all I 
 need if the road is open. Who is this new earl? 
 When I left Scotland MacAUister was the great- 
 est man in the MacAUister country." 
 
 " I forgot, Angus, that you hadna received the 
 advices from your brother ere you left Virginia. 
 The Earl o' Reay and Assynt is Hector Mac- 
 AUister ! We hae got a' we looked for, Angus. 
 The MacAUister sits in the House o' Lords 
 now ! If your father could hae seen this day ! " 
 
 A dark frown had gathered on Angus's brow. 
 
 " Who is MacAUister of MacAUister, then ? " 
 he asked. 
 
 " There is nae MacAUister now. Some say, 
 Angus, Reay was the auld name o' the family. 
 Anyhow, it is the new name, and when folks aie 
 seeking an earldom they canna stand on names. 
 Hector has done weel, baith by himsel' and 
 by the estate. Why, Angus, you arena vexed 
 at your brither's windfa', surely ? " 
 
 " What do you take me for, Fraser? If Hector 
 can be satisfied to accept titles from a usurper, 
 that is his business. There is an old proverb 
 about the receiver and the thief, but if George 
 steals from Charles, why should not Hector take
 
 290 THE LAST OF THE MACALLISTERS. 
 
 from George ? It is a private question of con 
 science. I would not take a dukedom from the 
 House of Hanover. I would not live on th^ 
 same continent with them. If there were ten 
 thousand miles between them and me, all of that 
 space would be full of anger and hatred between 
 us. But listen. I have great news and grand 
 news for you, and for every one who loves truth 
 and freedom. There is going to be another 
 rebellion against these little German tyrants, and 
 this rebellion is sure to succeed, as sure to suc- 
 ceed, Fraser, as the sun is sure to rise to-mor- 
 row ! " 
 
 "What? Angus! The Stuarts arena' com- 
 ing wi' blood and fire and death again, I pray !" 
 
 "No; but the colonies are going to rebel. 
 We are going to kick George and his satraps 
 over the ocean. We arc going to be free men. 
 We will have neither king nor kaiser to rob and 
 drive us. George the Third is going to lose a 
 grander empire than the Stuarts ever dreamed 
 of There is not a Scot now getting ready to 
 arm that does not remember George the Second 
 and Butcher Cumberland. What they owe to 
 the father they will pay to the son." 
 
 " Angus, you let rebellion alone."
 
 AFTER LONG YEARS. 29 1 
 
 "This is revolution, not rebellion. We are 
 certain to get our independence! I know it! 
 The ship I brought over laden with tobacco has 
 gone to France. What for, Fraser? For arms 
 and ammunition. I shall carry them back with 
 me, there are strong hands and brave hearts 
 waiting for them." 
 
 " Don't do it, Angus. Don't go near France." 
 
 "I am going farther. Can you guess where? 
 Oh, Fraser ! can you guess where? " 
 
 " I darena think o' it, Angus ! Oh, my dear 
 lad, why do it?" 
 
 " Because he is poor and forsaken and sorrow- 
 ful, and I have money for him, and love — " 
 
 " But he is sair changed, if a' that is said be 
 true. He is broken and fallen, and even those 
 that love him can have little sympathy for him." 
 
 " Then they never loved him. Who would 
 not be broken-hearted and fallen ? Have not all 
 his friends broken truth with him ? His brother 
 has been a traitor to his cause, his wife has 
 wronged and deceived him. Hope, love, ambi- 
 tion, all slain ! My poor prince ! Who would 
 not pity thee?" 
 
 " Oh, Angus, what a true heart is thine ! " 
 
 " Fraser, I sold my tobacco for ^10,000, but
 
 ^9^ THE LAST OF THE MACALLISTERS. 
 
 iho prince needs ;iC 12,000. You must add the 
 ;£"2,ooo; I expect it of you. George may have 
 your duty, but I know you love Charles. And 
 he is in debt and care and sorrow ! He is your 
 lawful king, the chief of all the Frasers, as well 
 as of the MacAllisters. You are a poor clans- 
 man if you know your chief to be in need and 
 help him not.'' 
 
 Fraser listened with glistening eyes, he had 
 sat watching Angus with the greatest interest 
 and admiration, and when he ceased he rose 
 quietly, went to his desk, and wrote out slowly 
 a draft on his banker for ;{^3000; "That is ^2000 
 for your asking, Angus, and ;^iooo just as a bit 
 pleasure for mysel'. And you may say to him 
 that his puir clansman, Andrew Fraser, begged 
 him no to lose a heavenly crown because he 
 didna win again his earthly ane. Tell him that 
 Scotsmen a' look to him to carry his sorrowful 
 cup wi' a steady hand." 
 
 Then he gradually turned the conversation 
 towards his own affairs. He told Angus that all 
 he had, excepting his property in Dornoch, had 
 been turned into gold and devised to his name- 
 sake. "As for this little estate," he said, " I hae 
 long intended it for a bit charity o' my ain fancy.
 
 AFTER LONG YEARS. 293 
 
 I hae left it to bring up a dozen or mair Hiither- 
 less girl-bairns. It will do well by a dozen now, 
 and if Dornoch grows as I calculate on it grow- 
 ing, the number can be increased." 
 
 " Why girl-bairns, Fraser ? " 
 
 " I thought o* the girl-bairns, Angus, for twa 
 reasons. First, plenty ither folk hae thought o' 
 the lads, there are colleges mair than enough for 
 them. Second, because the best and happiest 
 hours o' my life have been those in which I was 
 wi' some gude woman. For my mother's sake, 
 and for the memory o' Bessie and Isabel and 
 Grace, I am a thankfu' man, and I hae done this 
 to show it." 
 
 The next day Angus took the road to Strath- 
 leven. The snow was over, and the skies clear 
 and blue, but his heart was unusually heavy. 
 He was sensible of being out of time and tune 
 with all around him, and he felt no elation in 
 family honors which not only came from a 
 source he despised, but which, in a manner, 
 obliterated the family name. 
 
 On the way he found everything changed. 
 Men who had fought at CuUoden had bowed to 
 the new dynasty, given up their tongue and 
 dress, their sword and dirk, and gone to plough-
 
 294 THE LAST OF TEE MACALLISTERS. 
 
 ing and herding. Living in the country, what 
 could they do but accept the inevitable ? Angus 
 acknowledged this, but he was almost glad to 
 see that both men and women were silent, 
 gloomy, and dissatisfied, and eager to hear him 
 tell of the grand land beyond the sea, and the 
 freedom and prosperity of their countrymen 
 there. 
 
 He approached Strathleven just after sunrise. 
 The little clachan had become a very respectable 
 village. Straight streets of stone cottages had 
 replaced the picturesque but irregular shielings, 
 and there was now an inn, at which he left his 
 horse. 
 
 " New lairds and new customs," he sighed ; 
 "in my father's time the poorest MacAllister 
 would have scorned to have taken pay for a 
 lodging or a meal." 
 
 He knew the woman who brought him a glass 
 of milk and some oaten cakes, but she had for- 
 gotten him, and he would not remind her how 
 he had once stood up for her good name, and 
 made Black Dugald of Assynt do her justice 
 before the whole clachan. 
 
 Thoughtfully and sadly he sought the mcmn- 
 tain path. It had been graded and widened and
 
 AFTER LONG YEARS. 295 
 
 trimmed until it had become a very practicable 
 carriage-road. The underwood had been cleared 
 away, and the great single pines sang soughfully 
 to him as he passed. At the little wood where 
 he had first seen Isabel he paused. The very 
 trees under which they had sat were there. He 
 and Isabel had grown older and less fair, they 
 were stronger and fairer than ever. He stood a 
 moment under them and looked around. There 
 were many changes. Little vistas had been 
 opened, and little lawns cleared, and here and 
 there marble statues of wood-nymphs gleamed 
 white amid the black trunks of the snow- laden 
 firs. 
 
 The courtyard of the castle was open, there 
 was no fear of an enemy now. Its fantastically 
 cut box-trees, its peacock -house and conserva- 
 tory, irritated Angus. He had not seen the 
 court-yard of Strathleven since he and his father 
 had marched out of it at the head of a thousand 
 plaided warriors. But if the court gates were 
 open, the hall doors, that had always stood open 
 during daylight, were shut and locked, and he 
 had to knock some time before they v/ere 
 opened. 
 
 The man in plush and powder contrasted so
 
 296 THE LAST OF THE MACALLISTERS. 
 
 strangely with his remembrance of Neil Mac- 
 Allister, in kilt and dirk and checkered hose, 
 that for a moment he felt like a man in a dream, 
 though his voice was wakeful and angry enough 
 when he detected the menial's sneer. 
 
 " Is the earl within ? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Where is he ? " 
 
 " At Assynt Castle." 
 
 " Will he be here to-day ? 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Let me pass, I wish to go through the cas- 
 tle." 
 
 The man refused, and there was a loud and 
 angry debate, which might have ended in seri- 
 ous mischief had not an old servant recognized 
 the visitor, and fallen at his feet in a passion of 
 weeping and congratulation. But even then he 
 felt himself to be watched and doubted, and he 
 only visited the great hall and his mother's bed- 
 room. In both the furniture had been entirely 
 changed. Nothing in the hall remained of the 
 old time but his father's great oaken chair, and 
 nothing in his mother's room but her portrait 
 
 It wounded him deeply to see it there when 
 all else had been changed. " It ought to have
 
 AFTER LONG YEARS. 2g7 
 
 been hung beside my father's and his first wife's 
 portrait in the picture-gallery," he muttered, 
 " If it is not worthy of a place there it ought to 
 go with me, and it shall." After this discovery 
 he did not much care to go to Assynt, but he 
 had made up his mind to have the picture, and 
 he inust needs ask it of Hector. So he went. 
 
 Assynt had also been greatly changed, but 
 here the changes were all extensions and addi- 
 tions. It had, indeed, become a residence 
 worthy of a man who wore an earl's coronet 
 and whose wife the queen delighted to honor. 
 He dismounted at the main entrance, and the 
 porter opened the gate. 
 
 " The earl ? " 
 
 " He walks within." 
 
 And the man pointed to a little alley lined 
 with fancifully cut holly-trees. Hector's back 
 was towards Angus, and when the earl heard 
 footsteps behind him he turned sharply round. 
 Angus stood still ; he had no desire to force his 
 brother to a warmer acknowledgment than he 
 wished. But even this thought wronged Hec- 
 tor, for his heart, with the lapse of years, had 
 only grown more tender towards his exiled 
 brother, and when he perceived who waited for
 
 298 THE LA ST OF THE ^fA CA LLIS TERS. 
 
 liiin he went to meet Angus with a welcome 
 whose warmth and sincerity not the most jeal- 
 ous love could have doubted. 
 
 Yet it was a strangely solemn meeting, 
 Angus could not help thinking that Hector had 
 become a sad and thoughtful man. His new 
 dignity seemed to give him no pleasure; he dis- 
 liked all allusion to it, and quietly put aside all 
 conversation but such as referred to Angus and 
 his American home. After an hour's walk they 
 went into the castle. Hector was sure Grace 
 would be delighted, but the change in Grace was 
 the greatest change of all. She was very kind 
 and courteous, but Angus could not help asking 
 himself if this could be the eager, enthusiastic 
 girl that he had last seen pinning the white 
 cockade on ' Charlie's men ' in the courtyard of 
 Strathleven, 
 
 She had always paid a great deal of attention 
 to her toilet, but it seemed to Angus that she 
 had dressed the Countess of Reay and Assynt 
 with a quite unnecessary splendor. Her robe 
 of white satin, with a fine gold net over it, would 
 have suited the salons of St. James or Windsor, 
 and the jewels on her head and throat and arms
 
 AFTER LONG YEARS. 2C)g 
 
 did not hide the fading beauty of the matron of 
 forty-seven. 
 
 She spoke of her father, and said he was fail- 
 ing very fast. Angus asked to see him, and 
 found John Cameron in a slippered, prosy old 
 age, that could talk of nothing but his daughter. 
 Countess of Reay and Assynt, and the infinite 
 goodness and condescension of her Majesty 
 Queen Charlotte. But she never named the 
 poor prince whom she had once so devotedly 
 loved. He had failed, and Grace was of that 
 order of women who regard failure as the unpar- 
 donable sin. Angus was too gentlemanly to 
 remind her of it ; he allowed her to prattle away 
 about her eldest son, Lord John Assynt, who 
 was in the army, and her second son who had 
 gone on some diplomatic mission, and her 
 youngest, who was at Oxford. 
 
 Parenthetically, she remembered Isabel and 
 her trans-Atlantic nephews and nieces, and 
 rather ostentatiously remarked that she had 
 heard that Mr. Fraser intended leaving all his 
 money to his namesake, and how nice that 
 would be ! And when Angus answered that his 
 son Andrew had already an estate whose acres 
 outnumbered those Qf Strathleven and Assynt
 
 300 TUE LAST OF THE MACALLISTEnS. 
 
 combined, and had married a daughter of the 
 Count De Fontaine, she seemed amazed and 
 half doubtful. Evidently Angus and his family 
 had not been a subject of much interest or much 
 conversation in the Assynt household. 
 
 So it was clearly best that Angus should 
 return home as soon as possible. He signified 
 his intention the next morning, giving as a rea- 
 son that he wished to pay his duty to Prince 
 Charles before returning to America. He made 
 the statement without parade, and in a voice full 
 of pathos. Hector glanced kindly and proudly 
 at his brother, and set his lips tight to conceal 
 his emotion. Grace pretended not to hear the 
 remark, and John Cameron looked angry and 
 nervous, and began talking in a forced and eager 
 manner about some parliamentary debate. 
 
 There was little show of leave-taking. Cam- 
 eron sheltered himself behind his great age, 
 Grace took a brooch of coral and gold from her 
 throat and sent it to Isabel, and Hector, calmly, 
 but resolutely, prepared himself to accompany 
 his brother. Grace manoeuvred, and Cameron 
 called the new earl to his side, but Hector said, 
 in a simple, dour way, which Angus knew of old 
 was invincible, that he intended to see his
 
 AFTER LONG YEARS. 301 
 
 brother sail, and that his stay would be deter- 
 mined by that event. 
 
 They left on horseback together, and in half 
 an hour had recovered their old selves. When 
 they had ridden about a mile they stopped by a 
 common impulse; the next moment they leaned 
 forward and kissed each other as tenderly and 
 joyously as if they were once again boys, and 
 after that they fell into a conversation which 
 drove every shadow between them far away, 
 
 Angus asked for his mother's picture, and 
 Hector not only had it packed and sent away 
 while they ate lunch at Strathleven, but after- 
 wards he opened a private drawer of his own, 
 and showed Angus all her jewels and laces. 
 " They belong to Isabel," he said, " and you 
 must now take them." Then he drew from off 
 his own finger a splendid diamond, and said, 
 " Give her this with my true love and respect, 
 and tell her I have never forgotten that I owe 
 my life to my sister." 
 
 It pleased Fraser greatly to see that Hector 
 had come back with his brother. " I kent you 
 would do it," he said, almost gratefully, and he 
 watched the two men, as they wandered about 
 the hills or sat talking by his fireside, with a
 
 302 THE LAST OF THE MACALLISTERS. 
 
 keen and tranquil delight. Angus stayed a 
 week in Dornoch, and then bade a long and 
 last farewell to the old man who loved him as 
 a father. No one but God saw the parting, but 
 Fraser said solemly after it, " Now the bitter- 
 ness of death is over," 
 
 Hector went with Angus to Leith, and waited 
 by his brother's side till the anchor was weighed 
 and the captain hurried him ashore. During 
 these last days together all their old love and 
 confidence had been restored, with the addition 
 of that sorrowful tenderness attached to every 
 companionship which we feel is the last one that 
 time shall ever give us. Poor Hector ! He had 
 always loved Angus, but never so dearly as 
 when he watched him sail away out of the sight 
 of his eyes and the reach of his affection forever. 
 
 Of his visit to Avignon Angus never spoke. 
 He wrote to Fraser concerning it; but after the 
 old man had painfully spelled out his letter, he 
 put it in the fire and shut his mouth forever on 
 that subject. Contrary to all reasonable expec- 
 tations, he rallied greatly, and when the war 
 between England and her American colonies 
 broke out, no one was so eager about despatches 
 or so chary about expressing an opinion con- 
 cerning the colonists. Some people, indeed,
 
 AFTER LONG YEARS. 303 
 
 asserted that he sided with the rebels, and many- 
 averred that he had been heard to laugh quietly 
 to himself when the news of Bunker's Hill 
 came. All agreed that the Frasers were dour 
 folk, and never had liked the House of Han- 
 over. But Fraser, as well as John Cameron, 
 knew how to get behind his great age when he 
 thought it good to do so. 
 
 It was a snowy night again in the closing 
 days of A. d. 1781. Fraser, now nearly one 
 hundred years old, lay dying as gently as a 
 child goes to sleep. No one but the Earl of 
 Reay was with him, and he had left a gay party 
 at Assynt, in spite of much opposition, to com- 
 fort the last hours of his old friend and counsel- 
 lor. A little girl came softly in and laid a letter 
 on the bed. Fraser saw it, though his eyes 
 were apparently closed. 
 
 " It is from Angus," he said, in a thin, glad 
 voice; "read it, Hector;" and Hector read in 
 the old man's ear these words ; " Father, good 
 news! George's men have absolutely surren- 
 dered ; this on the 19th of October. We are 
 free ! I have sent the prince word by this 
 mail." Through the mystical gray on the face 
 of the dying man a faint rose- color stole, he 
 looked long and steadily at Hector, witli a
 
 304 THE LAST OF THE MACALIISTERS. 
 
 happy smile, and when the smile faded away 
 he had " fallen on that sleep " from which 
 there is no waking. 
 
 Ah, well 1 These things were all more than 
 one hundred years ago. The good knight 
 Angus, so true, so brave, and so constant in 
 his love, is now dust, "and his good sword 
 rust ; " but for all that the name he loved lives 
 on in many a brave tale, in many a frontier 
 romance and song. For he was the founder of 
 a family which, in every expedition of daring 
 and adventure, and on every field where free- 
 dom has fought her battle over again, has had 
 its representative. There was one among the 
 hardy band that penetrated into the trackless 
 plains of the polar ice-fields. They were 
 among the first explorers of the Rocky Mount- 
 ains. On the battle-fields of Texas and in the 
 dungeons of Mexico the name is a familiar one. 
 For with their valor and constancy there has 
 been mingled just so much of the roving 
 Romany blood as has made them pioneers in 
 every frontier movement. For the rest, 
 
 " They love their land because it is their own, 
 And scorn to give aught other reason why ; 
 Would shake hands with a king upon his throne, 
 And think it kindness to his majesty." 
 
 4
 
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