Redgauntlet: A Tale Of The Eighteenth Century

Lilias Redgauntlet withdrew the mask from her crimsoned cheek. ‘Mr. Fairford,’ she said, in a voice almost inaudible, ‘you have the character of a young gentleman of sense and generosity; but we have already met in one situation which you must think singular; and I must be exposed to misconstruction, at least, for my forwardness, were it not in a cause in which my dearest affections were concerned.’

‘Any interest in my beloved friend Darsie Latimer,’ said Fairford, stepping a little back, and putting a marked restraint upon his former advances, ‘gives me a double right to be useful to’ – He stopped short.

‘To his sister, your goodness would say,’ answered Lilias.

‘His sister, madam!’ replied Alan, in the extremity of astonishment – ‘Sister, I presume, in affection only?’

‘No, sir; my dear brother Darsie and I are connected by the bonds of actual relationship; and I am not sorry to be the first to tell this to the friend he most values.’

Fairford’s first thought was on the violent passion which Darsie had expressed towards the fair unknown. ‘Good God!’ he exclaimed, ‘how did he bear the discovery?’

‘With resignation, I hope,’ said Lilias, smiling. ‘A more accomplished sister he might easily have come by, but scarcely could have found one who could love him more than I do.’

‘I meant – I only meant to say,’ said the young counsellor, his presence of mind failing him for an instant – ‘that is, I meant to ask where Darsie Latimer is at this moment.’

‘In this very house, and under the guardianship of his uncle, whom I believe you knew as a visitor of your father, under the name of Mr. Herries of Birrenswork.’

‘Let me hasten to him,’ said Fairford; ‘I have sought him through difficulties and dangers – I must see him instantly.’

‘You forget you are a prisoner,’ said the young lady.

‘True – true; but I cannot be long detained – the cause alleged is too ridiculous.’

‘Alas!’ said Lilias, ‘our fate – my brother’s and mine, at least – must turn on the deliberations perhaps of less than an hour. For you, sir, I believe and apprehend nothing; but some restraint; my uncle is neither cruel nor unjust, though few will go further in the cause which he has adopted.’

‘Which is that of the Pretend’ —

‘For God’s sake speak lower!’ said Lilias, approaching her hand, as if to stop him. ‘The word may cost you your life. You do not know – indeed you do not – the terrors of the situation in which we at present stand, and in which I fear you also are involved by your friendship for my brother.’

‘I do not indeed know the particulars of our situation,’ said Fairford; ‘but, be the danger what it may, I shall not grudge my share of it for the sake of my friend; or,’ he added, with more timidity, ‘of my friend’s sister. Let me hope,’ he said, ‘my dear Miss Latimer, that my presence may be of some use to you; and that it may be so, let me entreat a share of your confidence, which I am conscious I have otherwise no right to ask.’

He led her, as he spoke, towards the recess of the farther window of the room, and observing to her that, unhappily, he was particularly exposed to interruption from the mad old man whose entrance had alarmed her, he disposed of Darsie Latimer’s riding-skirt, which had been left in the apartment, over the back of two chairs, forming thus a sort of screen, behind which he ensconced himself with the maiden of the green mantle; feeling at the moment, that the danger in which he was placed was almost compensated by the intelligence which permitted those feelings towards her to revive, which justice to his friend had induced him to stifle in the birth.

The relative situation of adviser and advised, of protector and protected, is so peculiarly suited to the respective condition of man and woman, that great progress towards intimacy is often made in very short space; for the circumstances call for confidence on the part of the gentleman, and forbid coyness on that of the lady, so that the usual barriers against easy intercourse are at once thrown down.

Under these circumstances, securing themselves as far as possible from observation, conversing in whispers, and seated in a corner, where they were brought into so close contact that their faces nearly touched each other, Fairford heard from Lilias Redgauntlet the history of her family, particularly of her uncle; his views upon her brother, and the agony which she felt, lest at that very moment he might succeed in engaging Darsie in some desperate scheme, fatal to his fortune and perhaps to his life.

Alan Fairford’s acute understanding instantly connected what he had heard with the circumstances he had witnessed at Fairladies. His first thought was, to attempt, at all risks, his instant escape, and procure assistance powerful enough to crush, in the very cradle, a conspiracy of such a determined character. This he did not consider as difficult; for, though the door was guarded on the outside, the window, which was not above ten feet from the ground, was open for escape, the common on which it looked was unenclosed, and profusely covered with furze. There would, he thought, be little difficulty in effecting his liberty, and in concealing his course after he had gained it.

But Lilias exclaimed against this scheme. Her uncle, she said, was a man who, in his moments of enthusiasm, knew neither remorse nor fear. He was capable of visiting upon Darsie any injury which he might conceive Fairford had rendered him – he was her near kinsman also, and not an unkind one, and she deprecated any effort, even in her brother’s favour, by which his life must be exposed to danger. Fairford himself remembered Father Buonaventure, and made little question but that he was one of the sons of the old Chevalier de Saint George; and with feelings which, although contradictory of his public duty, can hardly be much censured, his heart recoiled from being the agent by whom the last scion of such a long line of Scottish princes should be rooted up. He then thought of obtaining an audience, if possible, of this devoted person, and explaining to him the utter hopelessness of his undertaking, which he judged it likely that the ardour of his partisans might have concealed from him. But he relinquished this design as soon as formed. He had no doubt, that any light which he could throw on the state of the country, would come too late to be serviceable to one who was always reported to have his own full share of the hereditary obstinacy which had cost his ancestors so dear, and who, in drawing the sword, must have thrown from him the scabbard.

Lilias suggested the advice which, of all others, seemed most suited to the occasion, that, yielding, namely, to the circumstances of their situation, they should watch carefully when Darsie should obtain any degree of freedom, and endeavour to open a communication with him, in which case their joint flight might be effected, and without endangering the safety of any one.

Their youthful deliberation had nearly fixed in this point, when Fairford, who was listening to the low sweet whispering tones of Lilias Redgauntlet, rendered yet more interesting by some slight touch of foreign accent, was startled by a heavy hand which descended with full weight on his shoulder, while the discordant voice of Peter Peebles, who had at length broke loose from the well-meaning Quaker, exclaimed in the ear of his truant counsel – ‘Aha, lad! I think ye are catched – An’ so ye are turned chamber-counsel, are ye? And ye have drawn up wi’ clients in scarfs and hoods? But bide a wee, billie, and see if I dinna sort ye when my petition and complaint comes to be discussed, with or without answers, under certification.’

Alan Fairford had never more difficulty in his life to subdue a first emotion, than he had to refrain from knocking down the crazy blockhead who had broken in upon him at such a moment. But the length of Peter’s address gave him time, fortunately perhaps for both parties, to reflect on the extreme irregularity of such a proceeding. He stood silent, however, with vexation, while Peter went on.

‘Weel, my bonnie man, I see ye are thinking shame o’ yoursell, and nae great wonder. Ye maun leave this quean – the like of her is ower light company for you. I have heard honest Mr. Pest say, that the gown grees ill wi’ the petticoat. But come awa hame to your puir father, and I’ll take care of you the haill gate, and keep you company, and deil a word we will speak about, but just the state of the conjoined processes of the great cause of Poor Peter Peebles against Plainstanes.’

‘If thou canst; endure to hear as much of that suit, friend,’ said the Quaker, ‘as I have heard out of mere compassion for thee, I think verily thou wilt soon be at the bottom of the matter, unless it be altogether bottomless.’

Fairford shook off, rather indignantly, the large bony hand which Peter had imposed upon his shoulder, and was about to say something peevish, upon so unpleasant and insolent a mode of interruption, when the door opened, a treble voice saying to the sentinel, ‘I tell you I maun be in, to see if Mr. Nixon’s here;’ and little Benjie thrust in his mop-head and keen black eyes. Ere he could withdraw it, Peter Peebles sprang to the door, seized on the boy by the collar, and dragged him forward into the room.

‘Let me see it,’ he said, ‘ye ne’er-do-weel limb of Satan – I’ll gar you satisfy the production, I trow – I’ll hae first and second diligence against you, ye deevil’s buckie!’

‘What dost thou want?’ said the Quaker, interfering; ‘why dost thou frighten the boy, friend Peebles?’

‘I gave the bastard a penny to buy me snuff,’ said the pauper, ‘and he has rendered no account of his intromissions; but I’ll gar him as gude.’

So saying, he proceeded forcibly to rifle the pockets of Benjie’s ragged jacket of one or two snares for game, marbles, a half-bitten apple, two stolen eggs (one of which Peter broke in the eagerness of his research), and various other unconsidered trifles, which had not the air of being very honestly come by. The little rascal, under this discipline, bit and struggled like a fox-cub, but, like that vermin, uttered neither cry nor complaint, till a note, which Peter tore from his bosom, flew as far as Lilias Redgauntlet, and fell at her feet. It was addressed to C. N.

‘It is for the villain Nixon.’ she said to Alan Fairford; ‘open it without scruple; that boy is his emissary; we shall now see what the miscreant is driving at.’

Little Benjie now gave up all further struggle, and suffered Peebles to take from him, without resistance, a shilling, out of which Peter declared he would pay himself principal and interest, and account for the balance. The boy, whose attention seemed fixed on something very different, only said, ‘Maister Nixon will murder me!’

Alan Fairford did not hesitate to read the little scrap of paper, on which was written, ‘All is prepared – keep them in play until I come up. You may depend on your reward. – C. C.’

‘Alas, my uncle – my poor uncle!’ said Lilias; ‘this is the result of his confidence. Methinks, to give him instant notice of his confidant’s treachery, is now the best service we can render all concerned – if they break up their undertaking, as they must now do, Darsie will be at liberty.’

In the same breath, they were both at the half-opened door of the room, Fairford entreating to speak with the Father Buonaventure, and Lilias, equally vehemently, requesting a moment’s interview with her uncle. While the sentinel hesitated what to do, his attention was called to a loud noise at the door, where a crowd had been assembled in consequence of the appalling cry, that the enemy were upon them, occasioned, as it afterwards proved, by some stragglers having at length discovered the dead bodies of Nanty Ewart and of Nixon.

Amid the confusion occasioned by this alarming incident, the sentinel ceased to attend, to his duty; and accepting Alan Fairford’s arm, Lilias found no opposition in penetrating even to the inner apartment, where the principal persons in the enterprise, whose conclave had been disturbed by this alarming incident, were now assembled in great confusion, and had been joined by the Chevalier himself.

‘Only a mutiny among these smuggling scoundrels,’ said Redgauntlet.

ONLY a mutiny, do you say?’ said Sir Richard Glendale; ‘and the lugger, the last hope of escape for,’ – he looked towards Charles, – ‘stands out to sea under a press of sail!’

‘Do not concern yourself about me,’ said the unfortunate prince; ‘this is not the worst emergency in which it has been my lot to stand; and if it were, I fear it not. Shift for yourselves, my lords and gentlemen.’

‘No, never!’ said the young Lord – . ‘Our only hope now is in an honourable resistance.’

‘Most true,’ said Redgauntlet; ‘let despair renew the union amongst us which accident disturbed. I give my voice for displaying the royal banner instantly, and – How now!’ he concluded, sternly, as Lilias, first soliciting his attention by pulling his cloak, put into his hand the scroll, and added, it was designed for that of Nixon.

Redgauntlet read – and, dropping it on the ground, continued to stare upon the spot where it fell, with raised hands and fixed eyes. Sir Richard Glendale lifted the fatal paper, read it, and saying, ‘Now all is indeed over,’ handed it to Maxwell, who said aloud, ‘Black Colin Campbell, by G – d! I heard he had come post from London last night.’

As if in echo to his thoughts, the violin of the blind man was heard, playing with spirit, The Campbells are coming,’ a celebrated clan-march.

‘The Campbells are coming in earnest,’ said MacKellar; they are upon us with the whole battalion from Carlisle.’

There was a silence of dismay, and two or three of the company began to drop out of the room.

Lord – spoke with the generous spirit of a young English nobleman. ‘If we have been fools, do not let us be cowards. We have one here more precious than us all, and come hither on our warranty – let us save him at least.’

‘True, most true,’ answered Sir Richard Glendale. ‘Let the king be first cared for.’

‘That shall be my business,’ said Redgauntlet ‘if we have but time to bring back the brig, all will be well – I will instantly dispatch a party in a fishing skiff to bring her to.’ He gave his commands to two or three of the most active among his followers. ‘Let him be once on board,’ he said, ‘and there are enough of us to stand to arms and cover his retreat.’

‘Right, right,’ said Sir Richard, ‘and I will look to points which can be made defensible; and the old powder-plot boys could not have made a more desperate resistance than we shall. Redgauntlet,’ continued he, ‘I see some of our friends are looking pale; but methinks your nephew has more mettle in his eye now than when we were in cold deliberation, with danger at a distance.’