On the seventeenth, the day I was trysted with the Writer, I had much rebellion against fate. The thought of him waiting in the King's Arms, and of what he would think, and what he would say when next we met, tormented2 and oppressed me. The truth was unbelievable, so much I had to grant, and it seemed cruel hard I should be posted as a liar3 and a coward, and have never consciously omitted what it was possible that I should do. I repeated this form of words with a kind of bitter relish4, and re-examined in that light the steps of my behaviour. It seemed I had behaved to James Stewart as a brother might; all the past was a picture that I could be proud of, and there was only the present to consider. I could not swim the sea, nor yet fly in the air, but there was always Andie. I had done him a service, he liked me; I had a lever there to work on; if it were just for decency5, I must try once more with Andie.
It was late afternoon; there was no sound in all the Bass6 but the lap and bubble of a very quiet sea; and my four companions were all crept apart, the three [pg 194]Macgregors higher on the rock, and Andie with his Bible to a sunny place among the ruins; there I found him in deep sleep, and, as soon as he was awake, appealed to him with some fervour of manner and a good show of argument.
"If I thoucht it was to do guid to ye, Shaws!" said he, staring at me over his spectacles.
"It's to save another," said I, "and to redeem7 my word. What would be more good than that? Do ye no mind the scripture8, Andie? And you with the Book upon your lap! What shall it profit a man if he gain the whole world?"
"Ay," said he, "that's grand for you. But where do I come in? I have my word to redeem the same's yoursel'. And what are ye asking me to do, but just to sell it ye for siller?"
"Andie! have I named the name of siller?" cried I.
"Ou, the name's naething," said he; "the thing is there, whatever. It just comes to this; if I am to service ye the way that you propose, I'll loss my lieihood. Then it's clear ye'll have to make it up to me, and a pickle9 mair, for your ain credit like. And what's that but just a bribe10? And if even I was certain of the bribe! But by a' that I can learn, it's far frae that; and if you were to hang, where would I be? Na: the thing's no possible. And just awa' wi' ye like a bonny lad! and let Andie read his chapter."
I remember I was at bottom a good deal gratified with [pg 195]this result; and the next humour I fell into was one (I had near said) of gratitude11 to Prestongrange, who had saved me, in this violent, illegal manner, out of the midst of my dangers, temptations, and perplexities. But this was both too flimsy and too cowardly to last me long, and the remembrance of James began to succeed to the possession of my spirits. The 21st, the day set for the trial, I passed in such misery12 of mind as I can scarce recall to have endured, save perhaps upon Isle13 Earraid only. Much of the time I lay on a braeside betwixt sleep and waking, my body motionless, my mind full of violent thoughts. Sometimes I slept indeed; but the court-house of Inverary and the prisoner glancing on all sides to find his missing witness, followed me in slumber14; and I would wake again with a start to darkness of spirit and distress15 of body. I thought Andie seemed to observe me, but I paid him little heed16. Verily, my bread was bitter to me, and my days a burthen.
Early the next morning (Friday, 22nd) a boat came with provisions, and Andie placed a packet in my hand. The cover was without address but sealed with a Government seal. It enclosed two notes. "Mr. Balfour can now see for himself it is too late to meddle18. His conduct will be observed and his discretion19 rewarded." So ran the first, which seemed to be laboriously20 writ1 with the left hand. There was certainly nothing in these expressions to compromise the writer, even if that [pg 196]person could be found; the seal, which formidably served instead of signature, was affixed21 to a separate sheet on which there was no scratch of writing; and I had to confess that (so far) my adversaries23 knew what they were doing, and to digest as well as I was able the threat that peeped under the promise.
But the second enclosure was by far the more surprising. It was in a lady's hand of writ. "Maister Dauvit Balfour is informed a friend was speiring for him, and her eyes were of the grey," it ran--and seemed so extraordinary a piece to come to my hands at such a moment and under cover of a Government seal, that I stood stupid. Catriona's grey eyes shone in my remembrance. I thought, with a bound of pleasure, she must be the friend. But who should the writer be, to have her billet thus enclosed with Prestongrange's? And of all wonders, why was it thought needful to give me this pleasing but most inconsequential intelligence upon the Bass? For the writer, I could hit upon none possible except Miss Grant. Her family, I remembered, had remarked on Catriona's eyes and even named her for their colour; and she herself had been much in the habit to address me with a broad pronunciation, by way of a sniff24, I supposed, at my rusticity25. No doubt, besides, but she lived in the same house as this letter came from. So there remained but one step to be accounted for; and that was how Prestongrange should have permitted her at all in an affair so secret, or let [pg 197]her daft-like billet go in the same cover with his own. But even here I had a glimmering26. For, first of all, there was something rather alarming about the young lady, and papa might be more under her domination than I knew. And second, there was the man's continual policy to be remembered, how his conduct had been continually mingled27 with caresses28, and he had scarce ever, in the midst of so much contention29, laid aside a mask of friendship. He must conceive that my imprisonment30 had incensed31 me. Perhaps this little jesting, friendly message was intended to disarm32 my rancour?
I will be honest--and I think it did. I felt a sudden warmth towards that beautiful Miss Grant, that she should stoop to so much interest in my affairs. The summoning up of Catriona moved me of itself to milder and more cowardly counsels. If the Advocate knew of her and of our acquaintance--if I should please him by some of that "discretion" at which his letter pointed--to what might not this lead? In vain is the net spread in the sight of any fowl33, the scripture says. Well, fowls34 must be wiser than folk! For I thought I perceived the policy, and yet fell in with it.
I was in this frame, my heart beating, the grey eyes plain before me like two stars, when Andie broke in upon my musing35.
"I see ye hae gotten guid news," said he.
I found him looking curiously36 in my face; with that, there came before me like a vision of James Stewart and [pg 198]the court of Inverary; and my mind turned at once like a door upon its hinges. Trials, I reflected, sometimes draw out longer than is looked for. Even if I came to Inverary just too late, something might yet be attempted in the interests of James--and in those of my own character, the best would be accomplished37. In a moment, it seemed without thought, I had a plan devised.
"Andie," said I, "is it still to be to-morrow?"
He told me nothing was changed.
"Was anything said about the hour?" I asked.
He told me it was to be two o'clock afternoon.
"And about the place?" I pursued.
"Whatten place?" says Andie.
"The place I'm to be landed at," said I.
He owned there was nothing as to that.
"Very well, then," I said, "this shall be mine to arrange. The wind is in the east, my road lies westward38; keep your boat, I hire it; let us work up the Forth39 all day; and land me at two o'clock to-morrow at the westmost we'll can have reached."
"Ye daft callant!" he cried, "ye would try for Inverary after a'!"
"Just that, Andie," says I.
"Weel, ye're ill to beat!" says he. "And I was kind o' sorry for ye a' day yesterday," he added. "Ye see, I was never entirely40 sure till then, which way of it ye really wantit."
[pg 199]Here was a spur to a lame41 horse!
"A word in your ear, Andie," said I. "This plan of mine has another advantage yet. We can leave these Hielandmen behind us on the rock, and one of your boats from the Castleton can bring them off to-morrow. Yon Neil has a queer eye when he regards you; maybe, if I was once out of the gate there might be knives again; these red-shanks are unco grudgeful. And if there should come to be any question, here is your excuse. Our lives were in danger by these savages42; being answerable for my safety, you chose the part to bring me from their neighbourhood an............