Catriona

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"Well, and I'm pleased to see you're cautious, too," said the Writer.
"But I think ye take a risk to lay so considerable a sum at my
discretion."

He said this with a plain sneer.

"I'll have to run the hazard," I replied. "O, and there's another
service I would ask, and that's to direct me to a lodging, for I have
no roof to my head. But it must be a lodging I may seem to have hit
upon by accident, for it would never do if the Lord Advocate were to
get any jealousy of our acquaintance."

"Ye may set your weary spirit at rest," said he. "I will never name
your name, sir; and it's my belief the Advocate is still so much to be
sympathised with that he doesnae ken of your existence."

I saw I had got to the wrong side of the man.

"There's a braw day coming for him, then," said I, "for he'll have to
learn of it on the deaf side of his head no later than to-morrow, when
I call on him."

"When ye CALL on him!" repeated Mr. Stewart. "Am I daft, or are you!
What takes ye near the Advocate!"

"O, just to give myself up," said I.

"Mr. Balfour," he cried, "are ye making a mock of me?"

"No, sir," said I, "though I think you have allowed yourself some such
freedom with myself. But I give you to understand once and for all
that I am in no jesting spirit."

"Nor yet me," says Stewart. "And I give yon to understand (if that's
to be the word) that I like the looks of your behaviour less and less.
You come here to me with all sorts of propositions, which will put me
in a train of very doubtful acts and bring me among very undesirable
persons this many a day to come. And then you tell me you're going
straight out of my office to make your peace with the Advocate! Alan's
button here or Alan's button there, the four quarters of Alan wouldnae
bribe me further in."

"I would take it with a little more temper," said I, "and perhaps we
can avoid what you object to. I can see no way for it but to give
myself up, but perhaps you can see another; and if you could, I could
never deny but what I would be rather relieved. For I think my traffic
with his lordship is little likely to agree with my health. There's
just the one thing clear, that I have to give my evidence; for I hope
it'll save Alan's character (what's left of it), and James's neck,
which is the more immediate."

He was silent for a breathing-space, and then, "My man," said he,
"you'll never be allowed to give such evidence."

"We'll have to see about that," said I; "I'm stiff-necked when I like."

"Ye muckle ass!" cried Stewart, "it's James they want; James has got to
hang - Alan, too, if they could catch him - but James whatever! Go
near the Advocate with any such business, and you'll see! he'll find a
way to muzzle, ye."

"I think better of the Advocate than that," said I.

"The Advocate be dammed!" cries he. "It's the Campbells, man! You'll
have the whole clanjamfry of them on your back; and so will the
Advocate too, poor body! It's extraordinar ye cannot see where ye
stand! If there's no fair way to stop your gab, there's a foul one
gaping. They can put ye in the dock, do ye no see that?" he cried, and
stabbed me with one finger in the leg.

"Ay," said I, "I was told that same no further back than this morning
by another lawyer."

"And who was he?" asked Stewart, "He spoke sense at least."

I told I must be excused from naming him, for he was a decent stout old
Whig, and had little mind to be mixed up in such affairs.

"I think all the world seems to be mixed up in it!" cries Stewart.
"But what said you?"

"I told him what had passed between Rankeillor and myself before the
house of Shaws.

"Well, and so ye will hang!" said he. "Ye'll hang beside James
Stewart. There's your fortune told."

"I hope better of it yet than that," said I; "but I could never deny
there was a risk."

"Risk!" says he, and then sat silent again. "I ought to thank you for
you staunchness to my friends, to whom you show a very good spirit," he
says, "if you have the strength to stand by it. But I warn you that
you're wading deep. I wouldn't put myself in your place (me that's a
Stewart born!) for all the Stewarts that ever there were since Noah.
Risk? ay, I take over-many; but to be tried in court before a Campbell
jury and a Campbell judge, and that in a Campbell country and upon a
Campbell quarrel - think what you like of me, Balfour, it's beyond me."

"It's a different way of thinking, I suppose," said I; "I was brought
up to this one by my father before me."

"Glory to his bones! he has left a decent son to his name," says he.
"Yet I would not have you judge me over-sorely. My case is dooms hard.
See, sir, ye tell me ye're a Whig: I wonder what I am. No Whig to be
sure; I couldnae be just that. But - laigh in your ear, man - I'm
maybe no very keen on the other side."

"Is that a fact?" cried I. "It's what I would think of a man of your
intelligence."

"Hut! none of your whillywhas!" cries he. "There's intelligence upon
both sides. But for my private part I have no particular desire to
harm King George; and as for King James, God bless him! he does very
well for me across the water. I'm a lawyer, ye see: fond of my books
and my bottle, a good plea, a well-drawn deed, a crack in the
Parliament House with other lawyer bodies, and perhaps a turn at the
golf on a Saturday at e'en. Where do ye come in with your Hieland
plaids and claymores?"

"Well," said I, "it's a fact ye have little of the wild Highlandman."

"Little?" quoth he. "Nothing, man! And yet I'm Hieland born, and when
the clan pipes, who but me has to dance! The clan and the name, that
goes by all. It's just what you said yourself; my father learned it to
me, and a bonny trade I have of it. Treason and traitors, and the
smuggling of them out and in; and the French recruiting, weary fall it!
and the smuggling through of the recruits; and their pleas - a sorrow
of their pleas! Here have I been moving one for young Ardsheil, my
cousin; claimed the estate under the marriage contract - a forfeited
estate! I told them it was nonsense: muckle they cared! And there
was I cocking behind a yadvocate that liked the business as little as
myself, for it was fair ruin to the pair of us - a black mark,
DISAFFECTED, branded on our hurdies, like folk's names upon their kye!
And what can I do? I'm a Stewart, ye see, and must fend for my clan
and family. Then no later by than yesterday there was one of our
Stewart lads carried to the Castle. What for? I ken fine: Act of
1736: recruiting for King Lewie. And you'll see, he'll whistle me in
to be his lawyer, and there'll be another black mark on my chara'ter!
I tell you fair: if I but kent the heid of a Hebrew word from the
hurdies of it, be dammed but I would fling the whole thing up and turn
minister!"

"It's rather a hard position," said I.

"Dooms hard!" cries he. "And that's what makes me think so much of ye
- you that's no Stewart - to stick your head so deep in Stewart
business. And for what, I do not know: unless it was the sense of
duty."

"I hope it will be that," said I.

"Well," says he, "it's a grand quality. But here is my clerk back;
and, by your leave, we'll pick a bit of dinner, all the three of us.
When that's done, I'll give you the direction of a very decent man,
that'll be very fain to have you for a lodger. And I'll fill your
pockets to ye, forbye, out of your ain bag. For this business'll not
be near as dear as ye suppose - not even the ship part of it."

I made him a sign that his clerk was within hearing.

"Hoot, ye neednae mind for Robbie," cries he. "A Stewart, too, puir
deevil! and has smuggled out more French recruits and trafficking
Papists than what he has hairs upon his face. Why, it's Robin that
manages that branch of my affairs. Who will we have now, Rob, for
across the water!"

"There'll be Andie Scougal, in the THRISTLE," replied Rob. "I saw
Hoseason the other day, but it seems he's wanting the ship. Then
there'll be Tam Stobo; but I'm none so sure of Tam. I've seen him
colloguing with some gey queer acquaintances; and if was anybody
important, I would give Tam the go-by."

"The head's worth two hundred pounds, Robin," said Stewart.

"Gosh, that'll no be Alan Breck!" cried the clerk.

"Just Alan," said his master.

"Weary winds! that's sayrious," cried Robin. "I'll try Andie, then;
Andie'll be the best."

"It seems it's quite a big business," I observed.

"Mr. Balfour, there's no end to it," said Stewart.

"There was a name your clerk mentioned," I went on: "Hoseason. That
must be my man, I think: Hoseason, of the brig COVENANT. Would you
set your trust on him?"

"He didnae behave very well to you and Alan," said Mr. Stewart; "but my
mind of the man in general is rather otherwise. If he had taken Alan
on board his ship on an agreement, it's my notion he would have proved
a just dealer. How say ye, Rob?"

"No more honest skipper in the trade than Eli," said the clerk. "I
would lippen to Eli's word - ay, if it was the Chevalier, or Appin
himsel'," he added.

"And it was him that brought the doctor, wasnae't?" asked the master.

"He was the very man," said the clerk.

"And I think he took the doctor back?" says Stewart.

"Ay, with his sporran full!" cried Robin. "And Eli kent of that!"

"Well, it seems it's hard to ken folk rightly," said I.

"That was just what I forgot when ye came in, Mr. Balfour!" says the
Writer.

CHAPTER III - I GO TO PILRIG

THE next morning, I was no sooner awake in my new lodging than I was up
and into my new clothes; and no sooner the breakfast swallowed, than I
was forth on my adventurers. Alan, I could hope, was fended for; James
was like to be a more difficult affair, and I could not but think that
enterprise might cost me dear, even as everybody said to whom I had
opened my opinion. It seemed I was come to the top of the mountain
only to cast myself down; that I had clambered up, through so many and
hard trials, to be rich, to be recognised, to wear city clothes and a
sword to my side, all to commit mere suicide at the last end of it, and
the worst kind of suicide, besides, which is to get hanged at the
King's charges.

What was I doing it for? I asked, as I went down the high Street and
out north by Leith Wynd. First I said it was to save James Stewart;
and no doubt the memory of his distress, and his wife's cries, and a
word or so I had let drop on that occasion worked upon me strongly. At
the same time I reflected that it was (or ought to be) the most
indifferent matter to my father's son, whether James died in his bed or
from a scaffold. He was Alan's cousin, to be sure; but so far as
regarded Alan, the best thing would be to lie low, and let the King,
and his Grace of Argyll, and the corbie crows, pick the bones of his
kinsman their own way. Nor could I forget that, while we were all in
the pot together, James had shown no such particular anxiety whether
for Alan or me.

Next it came upon me I was acting for the sake of justice: and I
thought that a fine word, and reasoned it out that (since we dwelt in
polities, at some discomfort to each one of us) the main thing of all
must still be justice, and the death of any innocent man a wound upon
the whole community. Next, again, it was the Accuser of the Brethren
that gave me a turn of his argument; bade me think shame for pretending
myself concerned in these high matters, and told me I was but a prating
vain child, who had spoken big words to Rankeillor and to Stewart, and
held myself bound upon my vanity to make good that boastfulness. Nay,
and he hit me with the other end of the stick; for he accused me of a
kind of artful cowardice, going about at the expense of a little risk
to purchase greater safety. No doubt, until I had declared and cleared
myself, I might any day encounter Mungo Campbell or the sheriff's
officer, and be recognised, and dragged into the Appin murder by the
heels; and, no doubt, in case I could manage my declaration with
success, I should breathe more free for ever after. But when I looked
this argument full in the face I could see nothing to be ashamed of.
As for the rest, "Here are the two roads," I thought, "and both go to
the same place. It's unjust that James should hang if I can save him;
and it would be ridiculous in me to have talked so much and then do
nothing. It's lucky for James of the Glens that I have boasted
beforehand; and none so unlucky for myself, because now I'm committed
to do right. I have the name of a gentleman and the means of one; it
would be a poor duty that I was wanting in the essence." And then I
thought this was a Pagan spirit, and said a prayer in to myself, asking
for what courage I might lack, and that I might go straight to my duty
like a soldier to battle, and come off again scatheless, as so many do.

This train of reasoning brought me to a more resolved complexion;
though it was far from closing up my sense of the dangers that
surrounded me, nor of how very apt I was (if I went on) to stumble on
the ladder of the gallows. It was a plain, fair morning, but the wind
in the east. The little chill of it sang in my blood, and gave me a
feeling of the autumn, and the dead leaves, and dead folks' bodies in
their graves. It seemed the devil was in it, if I was to die in that
tide of my fortunes and for other folks' affairs. On the top of the
Calton Hill, though it was not the customary time of year for that
diversion, some children were crying and running with their kites.
These toys appeared very plain against the sky; I remarked a great one
soar on the wind to a high altitude and then plump among the whins; and
I thought to myself at sight of it, "There goes Davie."

My way lay over Mouter's Hill, and through an end of a clachan on the
braeside among fields. There was a whirr of looms in it went from
house to house; bees bummed in the gardens; the neighbours that I saw
at the doorsteps talked in a strange tongue; and I found out later that
this was Picardy, a village where the French weavers wrought for the
Linen Company. Here I got a fresh direction for Pilrig, my
destination; and a little beyond, on the wayside, came by a gibbet and
two men hanged in chains. They were dipped in tar, as the manner is;
the wind span them, the chains clattered, and the birds hung about the
uncanny jumping-jacks and cried. The sight coming on me suddenly, like
an illustration of my fears, I could scarce be done with examining it
and drinking in discomfort. And, as I thus turned and turned about the
gibbet, what should I strike on, but a weird old wife, that sat behind
a leg of it, and nodded, and talked aloud to herself with becks and
courtesies.

"Who are these two, mother?" I asked, and pointed to the corpses.

"A blessing on your precious face!" she cried. "Twa joes o'mine: just
two o' my old joes, my hinny dear."

"What did they suffer for?" I asked.

"Ou, just for the guid cause," said she. "Aften I spaed to them the
way that it would end. Twa shillin' Scots: no pickle mair; and there
are twa bonny callants hingin' for 't! They took it frae a wean
belanged to Brouchton."

"Ay!" said I to myself, and not to the daft limmer, "and did they come
to such a figure for so poor a business? This is to lose all indeed."

"Gie's your loof, hinny," says she, "and let me spae your weird to ye."

"No, mother," said I, "I see far enough the way I am. It's an unco
thing to see too far in front."

"I read it in your bree," she said. "There's a bonnie lassie that has
bricht een, and there's a wee man in a braw coat, and a big man in a
pouthered wig, and there's the shadow of the wuddy, joe, that lies
braid across your path. Gie's your loof, hinny, and let Auld Merren
spae it to ye bonny."

The two chance shots that seemed to point at Alan and the daughter of
James More struck me hard; and I fled from the eldritch creature,
casting her a baubee, which she continued to sit and play with under
the moving shadows of the hanged.

My way down the causeway of Leith Walk would have been more pleasant to
me but for this encounter. The old rampart ran among fields, the like
of them I had never seen for artfulness of agriculture; I was pleased,
besides, to be so far in the still countryside; but the shackles of the
gibbet clattered in my head; and the mope and mows of the old witch,
and the thought of the dead men, hag-rode my spirits. To hang on a
gallows, that seemed a hard case; and whether a man came to hang there
for two shillings Scots, or (as Mr. Stewart had it) from the sense of
duty, once he was tarred and shackled and hung up, the difference
seemed small. There might David Balfour hang, and other lads pass on
their errands and think light of him; and old daft limmers sit at a
leg-foot and spae their fortunes; and the clean genty maids go by, and
look to the other aide, and hold a nose. I saw them plain, and they
had grey eyes, and their screens upon their heads were of the Drummed
colours.

I was thus in the poorest of spirits, though still pretty resolved,
when I came in view of Pilrig, a pleasant gabled house set by the
walkside among some brave young woods. The laird's horse was standing
saddled at the door as I came up, but himself was in the study, where
he received me in the midst of learned works and musical instruments,
for he was not only a deep philosopher but much of a musician. He
greeted me at first pretty well, and when he had read Rankeillor's
letter, placed himself obligingly at my disposal.

"And what is it, cousin David!" said he - "since it appears that we are
cousins - what is this that I can do for you! A word to Prestongrange!
Doubtless that is easily given. But what should be the word?"

"Mr. Balfour," said I, "if I were to tell you my whole story the way it
fell out, it's my opinion (and it was Rankeillor's before me) that you
would be very little made up with it."

"I am sorry to hear this of you, kinsman," says he.

"I must not take that at your hands, Mr. Balfour," said I; "I have
nothing to my charge to make me sorry, or you for me, but just the
common infirmities of mankind. 'The guilt of Adam's first sin, the
want of original righteousness, and the corruption of my whole nature,'
so much I must answer for, and I hope I have been taught where to look
for help," I said; for I judged from the look of the man he would think
the better of me if I knew my questions. "But in the way of worldly
honour I have no great stumble to reproach myself with; and my
difficulties have befallen me very much against my will and (by all
that I can see) without my fault. My trouble is to have become dipped
in a political complication, which it is judged you would be blythe to
avoid a knowledge of."

"Why, very well, Mr. David," he replied, "I am pleased to see you are
all that Rankeillor represented. And for what you say of political
complications, you do me no more than justice. It is my study to be
beyond suspicion, and indeed outside the field of it. The question
is," says he, "how, if I am to know nothing of the matter, I can very
well assist you?"

"Why sir," said I, "I propose you should write to his lordship, that I
am a young man of reasonable good family and of good means: both of
which I believe to be the case."

"I have Rankeillor's word for it," said Mr. Balfour, "and I count that
a warran-dice against all deadly."

"To which you might add (if you will take my word for so much) that I
am a good churchman, loyal to King George, and so brought up," I went
on.

"None of which will do you any harm," said Mr. Balfour.

"Then you might go on to say that I sought his lordship on a matter of
great moment, connected with His Majesty's service and the
administration of justice," I suggested.

"As I am not to hear the matter," says the laird, "I will not take upon
myself to qualify its weight. 'Great moment' therefore falls, and
'moment' along with it. For the rest I might express myself much as
you propose."

"And then, sir," said I, and rubbed my neck a little with my thumb,
"then I would be very desirous if you could slip in a word that might
perhaps tell for my protection."

"Protection?" says he, "for your protection! Here is a phrase that
somewhat dampens me. If the matter be so dangerous, I own I would be a
little loath to move in it blindfold."

"I believe I could indicate in two words where the thing sticks," said
I.

"Perhaps that would be the best," said he.

"Well, it's the Appin murder," said I.

He held up both his hands. "Sirs! sirs!" cried he.

I thought by the expression of his face and voice that I had lost my
helper.

"Let me explain. . ." I began.

"I thank you kindly, I will hear no more of it," says he. "I decline
IN TOTO to hear more of it. For your name's sake and Rankeillor's, and
perhaps a little for your own, I will do what I can to help you; but I
will hear no more upon the facts. And it is my first clear duty to
warn you. These are deep waters, Mr. David, and you are a young man.
Be cautious and think twice."

"It is to be supposed I will have thought oftener than that, Mr.
Balfour," said I, "and I will direct your attention again to
Rankeillor's letter, where (I hope and believe) he has registered his
approval of that which I design."

"Well, well," said he; and then again, "Well, well! I will do what I
can for you." There with he took a pen and paper, sat a while in
thought, and began to write with much consideration. "I understand
that Rankeillor approved of what you have in mind?" he asked presently.

"After some discussion, sir, he bade me to go forward in God's name,"
said I.

"That is the name to go in," said Mr. Balfour, and resumed his writing.
Presently, he signed, re-read what he had written, and addressed me
again. "Now here, Mr. David," said he, "is a letter of introduction,
which I will seal without closing, and give into your hands open, as
the form requires. But, since I am acting in the dark, I will just
read it to you, so that you may see if it will secure your end -

"PILRIG, AUGUST 26th, 1751.

"MY LORD, - This is to bring to your notice my namesake and cousin,
David Balfour Esquire of Shaws, a young gentleman of unblemished
descent and good estate. He has enjoyed, besides, the more valuable
advantages of a godly training, and his political principles are all
that your lordship can desire. I am not in Mr. Balfour's confidence,
but I understand him to have a matter to declare, touching His
Majesty's service and the administration of justice; purposes for which
your Lordship's zeal is known. I should add that the young gentleman's
intention is known to and approved by some of his friends, who will
watch with hopeful anxiety the event of his success or failure.

"Whereupon," continued Mr. Balfour, "I have subscribed myself with the
usual compliments. You observe I have said 'some of your friends'; I
hope you can justify my plural?"

"Perfectly, sir; my purpose is known and approved by more than one,"
said I. "And your letter, which I take a pleasure to thank you for, is
all I could have hoped."

"It was all I could squeeze out," said he; "and from what I know of the
matter you design to meddle in, I can only pray God that it may prove
sufficient."

CHAPTER IV - LORD ADVOCATE PRESTONGRANGE

MY kinsman kept me to a meal, "for the honour of the roof," he said;
and I believe I made the better speed on my return. I had no thought
but to be done with the next stage, and have myself fully committed; to
a person circumstanced as I was, the appearance of closing a door on
hesitation and temptation was itself extremely tempting; and I was the
more disappointed, when I came to Prestongrange's house, to be informed
he was abroad. I believe it was true at the moment, and for some hours
after; and then I have no doubt the Advocate came home again, and
enjoyed himself in a neighbouring chamber among friends, while perhaps
the very fact of my arrival was forgotten. I would have gone away a
dozen times, only for this strong drawing to have done with my
declaration out of hand and be able to lay me down to sleep with a free
conscience. At first I read, for the little cabinet where I was left
contained a variety of books. But I fear I read with little profit;
and the weather falling cloudy, the dusk coming up earlier than usual,
and my cabinet being lighted with but a loophole of a window, I was at
last obliged to desist from this diversion (such as it was), and pass
the rest of my time of waiting in a very burthensome vacuity. The
sound of people talking in a near chamber, the pleasant note of a
harpsichord, and once the voice of a lady singing, bore me a kind of
company.

I do not know the hour, but the darkness was long come, when the door
of the cabinet opened, and I was aware, by the light behind him, of a
tall figure of a man upon the threshold. I rose at once.

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