-"LI E> RARY 
 
 OF THE 
 UN IVE.R.SITY 
 Of ILLINOIS 
 
 623 
 
 V. I

 
 ALLAN B R E C K. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 LOMOON 
 PRINT ID BY S.4MliEL lilNTLEY, 
 
 Dorset Street, Fleet Street.
 
 -.^. 
 
 ALLAN BRECK 
 
 BY THE AUTHOR OF 
 
 THE SUBALTERN," " COUNTRY CURATE," &e. 
 
 This man's brow, like to a title-page, 
 
 Foretells the natiue of a tragic voliune. 
 
 Shakspeare. 
 
 IX THREE VOLUMES. 
 VOL. L 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 RICHARD BEKTLEY, NEW BURLINGTON STREET. 
 (successor to henry colburn.) 
 
 1834.
 
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 00 
 
 O') 
 
 Cj 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 ^ Along the farther shore of one of those salt 
 
 •_u 
 
 3 water lochs, or arms of the sea, by which the 
 <c 
 
 west coast of Scotland is frequently indented, 
 
 t/^ lies a tract of country, which some half a dozen 
 
 ■J^enturies ago became, by right of conquest, the 
 
 J property of Alister Mac Diarmid and his war- 
 
 -^ like followers. The district in question, though 
 
 ^^ not wanting in straths and glens, consists prin- 
 
 "^.^cipally of mountain ranges which fall short, 
 
 J- in point both of altitude and barren grandeur, 
 
 ^to none throughout the compass of the High- 
 
 ^ VOL. I. B 
 
 s
 
 2 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 lands. Towards the head of the loch, indeed, 
 hill seems to have been piled upon hill by some 
 extraordinary convulsion of nature ; rocks tow- 
 ering high into the air, without a blade of 
 grass or a slip of heather to cover them ; while 
 here and there, from some reft or crevice in 
 their foundation, a mountain ash juts forth, as 
 if for the purpose of proving how little soil is 
 required in the nourishment of that hardy 
 plant. As you descend in the direction of the 
 Irish channel, however, new and varied scenery 
 meets you at every step. A narrow path 
 along the margin of the water, now shooting 
 straight onwards with the precision of an ar- 
 row's flight, now twisting and turning, as little 
 bays and creeks pierce into the hill's side, 
 opens out, from time to time, glimpses of a 
 panorama, to convey any accurate idea of which 
 the power of language is wholly inadequate. 
 On your left rise sheer and abrupt mountains, 
 from whose rocky and precipitous summits the 
 snow has seldom disappeared ; though to the
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 6 
 
 extent of more than half their altitude, a luxu- 
 riant coat of turf overspreads them, beautifully 
 diversified by the feathery plumage of a low 
 and scraggy underwood. On your right the 
 broad and deep loch, with its islands and pro- 
 montories, seems, in spite of the ebb and flow 
 of the tide, to repose within a giant basin ; 
 around which, on every side, mountains close 
 in, peaked and pyramidal, or broad, jagged, 
 and ponderous. The whole scene, indeed, ex- 
 hibits Nature in her wildest and most magni- 
 ficent aspect ; for there is not a feature in it 
 that fails to carry the imagination back to the 
 time when chaos first began to give place to 
 order throughout the world. 
 
 The stranger who visits this Alpine district 
 in the year 1833, will discover in it more to 
 attract his notice than nature unassisted could 
 produce. The shores of the loch re-echo to 
 the voices of an industrious population, while 
 its surface is from time to time whitened with 
 the sails of numerous boats and vessels of a 
 B 2
 
 4 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 larger size. Numerous farm-houses, too, scat- 
 tered through the glens, with a village spread 
 over the base of the hill, give proof that the 
 spirit of enterprize has been here producing 
 its customary result — an increase of comforts; 
 whether purchased at too high a price, it is not 
 for us to determine. But at the period to which 
 our present history has reference, a widely dif- 
 ferent state of things prevailed. No village 
 was then in existence, nor were the open spaces 
 covered, as they are now, with marks of human 
 industry. It seemed, on the contrary, as if war 
 had lately ravaged the district, of which the 
 effects were still to be traced in ruined home- 
 steads, and cottages levelled with the earth ; 
 while the perfect solitude that prevailed in 
 every direction, led to the unavoidable con- 
 clusion, that the inhabitants had removed from 
 their ancient homes in search of some more se- 
 cure retreat elsewhere. 
 
 From the head of the loch, to a remarkable 
 promontory, which giving a new direction to
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 5 
 
 the tide, confers a new name upon the sheet of 
 water, there is a space of perhaps some fifteen 
 or twenty miles. Throughout the whole of that 
 interval there were but two spots, and these far 
 apart, from which, in the year 1745, a wreath of 
 smoke was ever seen to ascend; in such quantities 
 at least, as to lead to the conclusion that there 
 the rites of hospitality were exercised. Upon 
 the promontory itself, or rather upon a sort 
 of table-land, which almost at its extreme edge 
 overhangs the sea, stood a solitary edifice, 
 which, like many other objects of human ad- 
 miration, though strikingly beautiful at a dis- 
 tance, lost somewhat of its claim to be admired 
 when examined more narrowly. Built without 
 any regard to regularity of architecture, and 
 little attention to comfort, it neither partook of 
 the character of a fortiless, nor resembled what 
 in southern phraseology is termed a gentleman's 
 seat ; but might pass for the residence of a sub- 
 stantial yeoman, did Scotland boast of such a 
 personage, or, to speak in terms more accordant
 
 6 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 to the condition of things north of the Tweed, 
 as the house of the steward or factor on the 
 estate of a person of consequence. The house 
 in question could boast of two stories in height ; 
 the walls were very white ; and the windows, 
 small and dreary, were stuck here and there 
 with a thorough contempt for regularity. Two 
 doors, one in front, and the other in the rear, 
 gave ingress and egress to its inhabitants ; while 
 two chimneys, like a couple of asses' ears, sur- 
 mounted the blue slated roof at either extremity. 
 Yet there was about this clumsy edifice, in spite 
 of these defects, an air approaching to the Aris- 
 tocratic, which involuntarily led to a suspicion 
 that its owner held himself above the com- 
 mon herd. A toll or clump of magnificent 
 beech-trees surrounded it on three sides. Seve- 
 ral bothies or hovels, clustered together about 
 bow-shot from the garden wall, might pass 
 current as offices, or the habitations of me- 
 nials and attendants ; while a long road or 
 avenue, terminated by a gate, kept the grounds.
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 7 
 
 if they may be so termed, apart from the rest 
 of the country. 
 
 Now, as neither avenues nor walled-gardens 
 were then very frequent in the Highlands, 
 except as appertaining to the residences, at 
 least, of the second order of gentry, the ex- 
 istence of both in the present instance was not 
 without its effect; producing a belief that, 
 however mean the house of Ardmore mip-ht 
 have appeared if planted in the centre of a 
 wealthy Englishman's park, in the western 
 Highlands of Scotland its title to gentility 
 could not be gainsayed. 
 
 At the distance of perhaps five miles or 
 something less from Ardmore, in a direction 
 towards the head of the loch, stood ano- 
 ther dwelling, still more worthy of notice, 
 both on account of its existing condition, and 
 of the singular beauty of the situation in which 
 it was placed. A double row of birch, hazel 
 and wych elm, overhanging the course of a shal- 
 low stream, formed a shady approach through
 
 8 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 the centre of a glen, excavated, as it were, from 
 the very bowels of the mountain, and hemmed 
 in on every side by hills of the most picturesque 
 yet magnificent formation. At the extremity 
 of that glen, where a plateau of fertile 
 meadow land began to merge, if we may so 
 express ourselves, into the slope of the hill, 
 stood two remarkable structures ; one a black- 
 ened ruin, of which nothing remained except 
 four crumbling walls — the other a cottage, or 
 hovel, composed of the roughest materials. Of 
 the ruin it may suffice to state, that it had once, 
 and more effectually, discharged the duties 
 which now devolved upon its rival, till the 
 part which its owners took in the civil com- 
 motions of the times, brought both upon it 
 and upon them the heavy hand of a triumphant 
 government. The cottage again owed its ex- 
 istence to the devoted affection of a race, who 
 could not endure that the family of one whom 
 they had often followed to the field should be 
 indebted for a home even to their nearest of
 
 ALLAN BRECK. y 
 
 kin. Both were embosomed amid a thick grove 
 of ash, intermixed with fir and stunted oak ; 
 and both were equally hidden from the obser- 
 vation of a stranger till he came at once, and 
 unexpectedly, upon them. 
 
 It was a beautiful evening in July, and the 
 sun disappearing behind the far-off mountains, 
 threw the loch, with the base of the eastern 
 range, completely into the shade. The lofty 
 and spire-like tops were still, however, glit- 
 tering as if with gold, when a man emerging 
 from the glen just described, turned abruptly 
 to his left, and began to follow, with a rapid 
 and uneasy tread, the pathway along the mar- 
 gin of the water. A long sweep of road lay 
 before him, now overshadowed with thick fo- 
 liage, now open to the eye of heaven and cut 
 out of the rocks which overhung the water, 
 till a knoll or rocky eminence pushing itself 
 suddenly forward, caused an abrupt deflection 
 from the right line and hid the rest of its course 
 from view. Towards that eminence the man 
 b5
 
 10 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 appeared to bend his steps ; at least his eye was 
 fixed steadily upon it, and the change in his 
 gait as the distance became gradually more and 
 more diminished, seemed to imply that his de- 
 signs, be they what they might, were not likely 
 to carry him farther. 
 
 The most careless observer following that 
 pedestrian from behind, could not fail to be 
 struck both with the extraordinary symmetry 
 of his form and the elegance of his movements. 
 Considerably above the middle size, broad- 
 shouldered, and tapering in the waist, his limbs 
 though large, were neither disproportioned to 
 the rest of his figure, nor wanting in the mi- 
 nutest line which the statuary would desire to 
 trace. His dress too, the trews and plaid of the 
 day, set off such a person to great advantage ; 
 while a profusion of dark and curling hair that 
 escaped from beneath a plain blue bonnet, 
 waved gracefully in every light air that rose 
 from the water. The youth, for his springy 
 and active tread gave evidence that he had not
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 11 
 
 yet attained to middle age, carried no arms 
 either for attack or defence. A sort of spear, 
 indeed, was in his right hand, such as sportsmen 
 use, when they prefer attacking the salmon in 
 the depths of his pool, to the more tedious but 
 scientific process of wiling him to his own de- 
 struction ; but the liester is an instrument too 
 much in use wherever the lord of the fresh 
 waters makes his appearance, to excite, at 
 least in the mind of a Scotchman, any ideas of 
 violence or bloodshed. No doubt the arm 
 which now swayed it might, if called into play, 
 turn even a less formidable weapon to terrible 
 account; but for the present, nothing about 
 him could lead the most suspicious to imagine 
 either that danger was near, or that this lonely 
 wanderer by the margin of loch Arroch enter- 
 tained the most remote anticipation of danger. 
 
 For some time the youth walked steadily 
 onward, if indeed he may be said to walk stea- 
 dily, whose gait lags by fits into a lazy saun- 
 ter, and then springs forward, for a second or
 
 12 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 two, into a run. Not once did he withdraw 
 his gaze from the eminence of which we have 
 spoken, till he had accomplished something 
 more than four-fifths of his journey, when, as 
 if to rest his aching eyeballs, he suddenly stop- 
 ped short, and turning round, cast a rapid 
 and feverish glance behind. What a powerful 
 effect was that movement calculated to pro- 
 duce ! Of the perfect symmetry of the young 
 man's form we have said enough, and perhaps 
 more than enough. We have alluded also to 
 the singular grace which attached to all his 
 movements; and the inference to be drawn is of 
 course plain to every girl in her teens — that it 
 needed but a countenance at all in keeping 
 with the frame, to render him a perfect master- 
 piece of Nature's handywork. Unfortunately, 
 however, no such points of agreement were 
 here. His face was not merely plain — it was 
 hideously and fearfully deformed. Regular 
 features there doubtless were ; that is to say, 
 the eyes were of the darkest hazel, the nose
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 13 
 
 was aquiline, the brow lofty, the mouth well 
 shaped and stored with teeth white as the 
 purest ivory ; but over the whole disease had 
 laid her heavy hand, and the marks of that 
 visitation were imprinted as if with brands of 
 heated iron. The small-pox had seamed his 
 countenance in the most loathsome manner. 
 Eyebrows and eyelashes were all eradicated, 
 while huge furrows ploughed up both fore- 
 head and cheeks to a degree as terrible to look 
 upon, as hard to be conceived. In a word, the 
 veiled prophet of Korassan, if he had but half 
 as much to conceal, did well in rendering the 
 form of his visage a mystery to his fol- 
 lowers. 
 
 The glance which the young man cast be- 
 hind, though it might suffice to make a stranger 
 aware of these circumstances, retarded not his 
 onward progress many moments. In that brief 
 space of time, he seemed to make himself aware 
 that his motions were not watched by any cu- 
 rious eye, for he again pressed forward, till he
 
 14 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 arrived at a long ledge of rock, distant about 
 pistol shot from the nearer side of the knoll. 
 Here, concealed in part by the branches of 
 some straggling beeches, he suddenly halted, 
 and leaning his elbow upon the edge of the 
 cliff, watched, with an intensity too great for 
 disguise, the coming of some object which was 
 manifestly not yet within his observation. 
 
 The youth had kept his station about five 
 minutes or something more, when two female 
 figures suddenly turning the angle of the hill, 
 opened upon his view. That he became visible 
 to them at the same moment at which the bend 
 in the pathway brought them under his notice, 
 their first proceeding gave ample assurance. 
 They stopped, appeared to enter into a brief 
 consultation, and immediately separated ; the 
 one withdrawing so as to place the hill between 
 her and the stranger ; while the other advanced 
 a few paces in the direction of the spot where 
 he stood. Some violent emotion passed at this 
 moment through his giant frame — his limbs
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 15 
 
 shook under him, his flesh quivered, and his 
 breath came thick and laboured. But the 
 struggle, though fearful while it lasted, was of 
 short duration. He set his teeth firmly to- 
 gether, drew a long sob, and sprang forward. 
 
 The lapse of a few seconds sufficed to clear 
 the space that intervened between him and the 
 lady, before whom he stood with the air of one 
 who has striven, though without success, to 
 shake off some strong embarrassment. She was 
 young — probably not more than eighteen years 
 of age, and extremely beautiful, with a coun- 
 tenance that gave index of much enthusiasm, 
 united to lofty principle and good sense ; yet she 
 also appeared to labour under no trivial emotion, 
 while she placed her hand, *as it seemed reluc- 
 tantly, within that which he held out. In spite 
 of the ravages which small -pox had effected 
 in his countenance, the most cursory observer 
 could hardly fail to notice a striking resemblance 
 between that youthful pair. There were the 
 same raven locks — the same dark hazel eye —
 
 16 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 the same broad and lofty forehead in both ; 
 while the general shape of their features, as well 
 as the form of their visages, bespoke no very 
 remote relationship between them. They might, 
 indeed, have passed for brother and sister ; 
 inasmuch as the very fashion of their speech ac- 
 corded, as far, at least, as the rough notes of the 
 man can ever be said to fall in with the softer 
 and more liquid cadences of a woman's voice. 
 Yet there was something in the manner of both 
 which appeared altogether at variance with the 
 freedom of converse which usually goes along 
 with the most pure and tender of human ties. 
 The young man's face was pale — a flush passed 
 over the cheek of the maiden — and though 
 his gaze rested upon her countenance, her's 
 seemed rooted to the earth, as if by the in- 
 fluence of a spell, which she was either unable 
 or unwilling to resist. 
 
 " I have met you, Allan,"" said she, after a 
 long and uneasy pause, " whether wisely or 
 not, it is now too late to inquire. You pressed
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 17 
 
 the meeting upon me, and I could not refuse it. 
 What is it that you desire of me ?" 
 
 " First, Marcelly, that you would accept my 
 deepest and warmest thanks for thus reposing 
 confidence in one who, worthless as he knows 
 himself to be, could not quit his native country 
 without gazing once more— it may be for the 
 last time — upon that angel form, and listening 
 to the tones of a voice which has never fallen 
 upon his ear, except to soothe, or to instruct. 
 Thanks, Marcelly, a thousand thanks for this 
 kind act;' 
 
 " Nay, Allan,*" replied she, recovering her 
 composure, " you over-estimate the obligation 
 altogether. Not even thanks are due to me for 
 this. Remember that we stand towards each 
 other in the closest relationship — that the same 
 blood which flows in my veins circulates through 
 yours. We were playmates in our childhood too, 
 and, for a while at least, friends in our youth. 
 Why then should I hesitate to repose implicit 
 confidence in one to whom I am bound by
 
 18 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 the ties both of old acquaintance and kin- 
 dred?" 
 
 " Old acquaintance and kindred !" exclaimed 
 he bitterly. " Yes, we are, indeed, linked to- 
 gether by the ties of kindred and old acquaint- 
 ance. There was a time when the one knew nei- 
 ther joy nor sorrow, unless it were shared with 
 the other ; when our tastes, our pursuits, our 
 pleasures and our pains were the same — when 
 the day was too short, chiefly because we spent 
 it together — the night too long, because it kept 
 us apart. Oh, Marcelly, why should the bless- 
 ed season of childhood and perfect innocence 
 ever pass away ?" 
 
 " Because Heaven has ordered that it should," 
 replied she, — " because, years, as they roll on- 
 wards, work not a greater change in our out- 
 ward appearance, than they do in our prin- 
 ciples and moral conduct. Would to God it 
 were otherwise ! but are we not different in all 
 respects from what we were ; and is the dif- 
 ference entirely for the better .?"
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 19 
 
 The youth seemed much affected, both with 
 the purport of this brief address, and by the 
 manner in which it was delivered. For a mo- 
 ment, indeed, he kept silence, as if struggling 
 to gain the mastery over himself; after which, 
 in a low and troubled tone, he exclaimed, "It 
 is too true, Marcelly ; it is by far too true. 
 Changed indeed we are — I, God knows ! every 
 way for the worse ; and you — it may be for 
 the better, as far as others are concerned — but 
 to me — I dare not think upon the difference. 
 Yet you remind me, as often as we meet, 
 that our blood flows from the same fountain. 
 Why is this done? You would not mock me, 
 Marcelly, — I know that you are incapable of 
 playing with the misery of the meanest of your 
 fellow creatures — why then remind me of that 
 which has long, long ceased to be of value — 
 which brings with it but a painful recollection, 
 that neither you nor I are what we once were, 
 at least to one another. But it was not for 
 this I besought you to meet me here. In spite
 
 20 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 of all that has passed between us — in spite of 
 your coldness, nay, your aversion, still, Mar- 
 celly, I love you, ay love you, as man never 
 loved woman : and here, for the last time, in 
 the sight of heaven, and on a spot consecrated 
 by a thousand associations connected with our 
 history — I ask you, will you be mine?'" 
 
 The maiden listened to this burst of pas- 
 sion with a coldness that partook somewhat 
 of displeasure, while, lifting her eyes from 
 the ground, she turned them slowly, perhaps 
 involuntarily, towards the speaker. There 
 was an expression of strong aversion, not to 
 say disgust, in that glance, which she doubt- 
 less laboured to conceal, but which the eagle 
 eye of the youth failed not in a moment to 
 detect. The blood rushed to his cheek as he 
 exclaimed — 
 
 *' And is it even so ! Cannot the companion 
 of my childhood look upon this face without 
 loathing, blasted as it is by the hand of the 
 Creator ? Fool ! fool that I was, to dream
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 21 
 
 that woman's love could ever be bestowed upon 
 me ! Does not every stream that I cross — 
 does not the bosom of the quiet loch, bear 
 witness that for me no feeling of affection can 
 arise ! — that I am alone, and must ever con- 
 tinue to be alone, in the world ! — God ! " he 
 continued, letting go the hand which he had 
 hitherto held, and raising his own, clasped 
 firmly together, towards heaven — " Why hast 
 thou dealt thus with me ? Is there aught of 
 mortal stain on me, or on my house, that thou 
 shouldst brand me as an outcast from society ? 
 as a wretch doomed never to know the bless- 
 ings of domestic life — never to find a home 
 where my weary foot may rest ? Strike me 
 dead where I stand, if there be pity in thy 
 nature ; for death were welcome a thousand 
 times to one who bears the mark of Cain on 
 his forehead ! " 
 
 The tone of utter dejection in which this 
 somewhat impious ejaculation was uttered 
 seemed to go to the heart of the maiden, who
 
 22 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 trembled excessively, and strove by every 
 means in her power to withdraw the thoughts 
 of her companion from a subject so painful. 
 
 "You do injustice to yourself," said she, 
 " to Heaven, and to me. You are no out- 
 cast from society on account of any misfor- 
 tune for which you are not personally respon- 
 sible ; and as to woman's love, do not think 
 for a moment that it is either won or lost by 
 the most perfect symmetry of feature, or its 
 opposite. You, perhaps, may fix your aiFec- 
 tions — men, they say, generally do — upon a 
 smooth cheek or a fair complexion ; but be 
 assured that it is not so with woman. No, 
 Allan ; that of which you complain were a 
 light bar indeed to the blessings which you 
 profess to covet, had not other and stronger 
 obstacles come in the way ; but look to your 
 course of life during the last two or three 
 years, and tell me whether it be such as a vir- 
 tuous woman could approve ? Abandon that, 
 and if there be any thing in the future which
 
 ALLAN BRECK. ZS 
 
 one human being can promise to another, be- 
 lieve me that the mark of Cain of which you 
 speak, will be for ever removed from your 
 brow." 
 
 " And will you love me, Marcelly ?" rejoin- 
 ed he. speaking rapidly, but in the suppressed 
 tone of one who still labours under the highest 
 degree of excitement, " when this change shall 
 have taken place ; when I shake myself free 
 from habits, to which despair alone gave 
 strength, will i/ou look upon me with an eye, 
 not of loathing, as you do now, but as you 
 were wont to do in those days when all our 
 hopes, and fears, and wishes were the same ? 
 Oh, Marcelly, withdraw not this hope from me ! 
 say not that you cannot love me — that there is 
 no similarity of taste or feeling between us ! 
 The drowning wretch catches at a straw, and I 
 too would fain hold out this miserable hand, 
 no matter how slight the twig that might 
 afford a prospect of salvation. Be it after 
 years, long vears of trial — let half a life-time
 
 S4 ^ ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 be expended — only say, that at the close of 
 that period, when the past is forgotten, you 
 will be mine, and from this hour I become a 
 new creature ! Speak, Marcelly, for God's 
 sake speak ! — my fate — the fate both of my 
 body and my soul — is at your disposal ! " 
 
 "Allan," replied she, "it were unjust to- 
 wards you, and disgraceful to myself, did I, 
 on such a subject, deceive you, even for a 
 moment. Yours I can never be ; but if my 
 truest and most sisterly regard — if my friend- 
 ship, in its most extended sense, have any 
 value in your eyes, become, what you easily 
 may — and I give them to you without re- 
 serve." 
 
 "But if you can feel for me as for a brother, 
 Marcelly, why not as something dearer than a 
 brother ? Are my manners, my pursuits, my 
 principles, my habits, distasteful to you ? 
 Surely you would not profess a sister's re- 
 gard for one who had nothing in common with 
 yourself? Take back, then, that cold and
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 25 
 
 worthless bribe : she who can love as a sister 
 may love as something more than a sister, if 
 she will. Say only that it is so with thee, and 
 do with me what thou wilt ! "' 
 
 The lady was silent for a few moments, as if 
 weighing the sentence to which she was about 
 to give utterance. When she did speak, it 
 was with a deliberation and calmness not to be 
 misunderstood. 
 
 " It cannot be, Allan,"" said she. " I have 
 told you before, I tell you now again, that the 
 thing is impossible. A sisterly affection may 
 perhaps return, but more than this I have not 
 to give." 
 
 Again her eye fell unwittingly upon his 
 seared countenance, and a slight shudder ran 
 through her frame. Keenly and sensitively 
 alive to the wrong which Nature had done 
 him, the youth failed not to perceive the 
 movement, and attributing it to that which 
 was ever uppermost in his own thoughts, his 
 calmness entirely forsook him. 
 
 VOL. I. c
 
 26 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 " I see it all ! I see it all !" said he ; '' you 
 could not abide that this scathed visage should 
 be near thee at bed and board ! — thy blood 
 curdles to look upon it even now ! I am a 
 loathsome thing in thy sight — is it not so, 
 Marcelly ?" 
 
 As he spoke in a suppressed tone, and her 
 eye was averted from him at the moment, she 
 did not observe the violent tremor that shook 
 his large and muscular form. She accordingly 
 replied with some degree of hesitation, '' You 
 distress yourself unnecessarily, Allan ; it is not 
 as you suspect, but *" 
 
 " Enough, enough!" cried he coldly, while 
 his extended arms sawed the air ; " thou hast 
 answered well, and I thank thee that now at 
 last no ground of misunderstanding is left. 
 Marcelly, the gentle and the fair, has a right to 
 bestow her affections on one fair and gentle 
 as herself; and therefore Allan Breck must 
 needs learn to play the swain, by whispering 
 soft things into her ear. How well he is fitted
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 27 
 
 for the task, let God and man bear witness ! 
 And by and by, when the bridal day arrives, 
 is there a crone, from Boachiel to Benmore, 
 that will fail to lift up her dim eyes in 
 astonishment when she hears that Marcelly, the 
 flower of Strath-Diarmid, has joined her fate 
 to that of Allan the spotted ! " 
 
 Marcelly looked up and beheld, not without 
 some degree of alarm, that her companion la- 
 boured under a paroxysm of violent emotion. 
 The perspiration stood in drops upon his fore- 
 head, his nostrils were dilated, and a stern 
 smile, or rather sneer, curled his upper lip, 
 as he bent his eyes, extended to their fullest 
 stretch, with a savage glare upon her coun- 
 tenance. A girl less collected, because less 
 accustomed to depend upon her own energies, 
 would have doubtless anticipated some tragical 
 conclusion to the interview, but Marcelly lost 
 not her self-command for a moment. She fixed 
 her large dark eyes calmly upon his, which fell 
 under her glance, confused and overawed ; like 
 c2
 
 28 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 that of the maniac before his keeper, or the 
 savage bull, when boldly and resolutely con- 
 fronted. 
 
 " I deserve this,"' said she ; " I had no right 
 to anticipate a different result to a meeting 
 against which my own sober judgment warned 
 me. But if I have fallen into an error once, 
 it is at least unnecessary that I should per- 
 severe in it. You forget, Allan, what is due 
 both to me and to yourself; and lest you 
 should still farther transgress the bounds of 
 moderation and good feeling, I will leave you. 
 Rest assured that from the bottom of my heart 
 I pity you : not because the hand of God may 
 have scathed your brow ; but because, by 
 making yourself the slave of unruly passions, 
 you have sullied the fair fame that came down 
 to vou through a long line of illustrious an- 
 cestors. Nay, speak to me no more," continued 
 she, as he laboured to suppress his agitation, 
 and made a movement as if to address her. 
 *' To prolong this interview could serve no 
 good purpose, either in your case or mine.
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 2\) 
 
 Yet, I would not part from you in anger. No, 
 Allan, my best and most earnest prayer shall 
 ascend for you day and night ; and its con- 
 stant burthen shall be, as it has ever been, that 
 you may yet become, what we have a right to 
 expect in the child of your father. Then, 
 though I may not love you — though your 
 bride I can never be, I will not refuse all that 
 is mine to give — my sin ceres t esteem, my 
 warmest and most cordial friendship. And 
 now, farewell." 
 
 The maiden turned round as she pronounced 
 the last words, and walked leisurely from the 
 spot. No attempt was made to interrupt her 
 progress, nor was a cry uttered for the pur- 
 pose of detaining her ; indeed, her companion 
 appeared like one on whom a heavy blow had 
 fallen, utterly unconscious even of his own 
 existence. He raised his eyes, indeed, once 
 while she was speaking, and he continued to 
 gaze vacantly upon her form as it receded 
 among the trees ; but neither by voice nor 
 gesture did he exhibit the faintest disposition
 
 30 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 to divert her from her purpose. No sooner, 
 however, had the last flutter of her mantle 
 died away, than a sense of his own situation 
 seemed to come back upon him with terrible 
 violence. He cast himself prone upon the 
 earth, and burying his face in his hands, burst 
 into a passion of tears. But tears, which for 
 the most part bring sensible relief to the 
 unhappy, seemed in this instance to work out 
 but half their purpose. When he rose again, 
 which he did in the space of three or four 
 seconds, there was an expression of savage 
 ferocity in his countenance, with which a few 
 hurried words, rather thought than spoken, 
 were in no way at variance. " It is past,'' 
 muttered he, in a low tone, " my fate is 
 sealed from this hour. Heaven has utterly for- 
 saken me, and here I renounce my hopes of 
 heaven." As he said this, he lifted the spear 
 which had fallen from his hand during the 
 conference, and dashing his sleeve across his 
 eyes, bounded back, at a rapid pace, along 
 the path by which he had come.
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 81 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Having introduced thus abruptly to the 
 notice of the reader, two persons, not unlikely 
 to be mistaken for a hero and heroine, the 
 " rules of craft" require that^ before we proceed 
 farther with our narrative, we should give him 
 some further insight into the previous history 
 and present condition of his new acquaintances. 
 
 Allan and jVIarcelly, bearing the common sur- 
 name Mac Diarmid, were the children of the 
 two gentlemen who stood next, in point both 
 of dignity and importance, to the chief of the 
 clan. Attached to one another, not by the 
 bond of kindred alone, but by esteem ori-
 
 S2 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 ginating in certain contrarieties of character, 
 which, while they lead to no positive distaste, 
 hinder both boys and men from becoming rivals, 
 Norman and Fergus had, in maturer age, drawn 
 the link still closer by marrying sisters, also 
 gentlewomen of the clan, and of course not 
 very remotely connected by blood with their 
 husbands. Norman Mac Diarmid, the father 
 of Allan, possessed all those stirring qualities 
 which fit a man for taking a prominent part 
 in seasons of broil and confusion. Brave, 
 hardy, and enterprising, delighting too in the 
 sports of the field, and excelling in all manly 
 exercises, he soon became the darling of his 
 tribe ; whom, in consequence first of the great 
 age, and latterly of the extreme youth of their 
 natural leader, he had on more than one oc- 
 casion commanded in the field. It is scarcely 
 necessary to add, that the clan Diarmid were, 
 from generation to generation, distinguished by 
 a devoted adherence to the house of Stuart ; 
 and that, from the days of Dundee, down to
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 33 
 
 the period when our narrative commences, they 
 had omitted no opportunity of testifying their 
 loyalty, by the free effusion of their own blood, 
 as well as of that of their enemies. 
 
 We have spoken of the relatives as differing 
 from one another in various points of character, 
 which were just sufficiently marked to hinder 
 the growth of any jealous feeling between them, 
 without causing the slightest estrangement. 
 By -virtue of his closer alliance to the parent 
 stock, for example, the honour of heading 
 the clan ought to have devolved upon Fergus, 
 whose cadetship began more recently than that 
 of Norman by one or two generations; and 
 Norman, without doubt, than whom a more 
 loyal spirit breathed not, would have consented 
 to such an arrangement without a murmur. 
 Yet it was perhaps as well, both for himself 
 and others, that Norman was not called upon 
 to make the sacrifice. Fergus entertained no 
 predilection whatever for the " rapture of the 
 strife.'' Shrewd, cautious, long-sighted and 
 c 5
 
 S4f ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 wary, the bent of his genius directed him 
 rather how to preside at the council board, 
 than to direct the progress of military move_ 
 ments ; and hence, throughout all the risings 
 that occurred, and they were both numerous 
 and full of hazard, from 1715 to 1745, he 
 never once quitted the shelter of his own roof, 
 or brought his name into bad odour with the 
 existing government. Had this conduct ori- 
 ginated in a mere selfish desire of shielding 
 his ov/n person from danger, or preserving his 
 own property, it would have brought down 
 upon him the merited contempt of his neigh- 
 bours and kinsmen; but while it undeniably 
 did render both secure, it extended, at the 
 same time, a happy influence over the persons 
 and property of all around him. In seasons of 
 disaster, Fergus stood forward as the acknow- 
 ledged head of a sept, against whom, there- 
 fore, however guilty individuals might be, the 
 general charge of disaffection could not be 
 brought; and as these chanced to be of fre-
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 35 
 
 quent recurrence, especially during the nonage 
 of the present chief, the whole clan learned to 
 feel, that in more senses of the word than 
 one, " Discretion is sometimes the better part 
 of valour.'' 
 
 The campaign of 1715 — if the ill-advised 
 rising under the Earl of Mar deserve so to be 
 designated — proved eminently disastrous in its 
 consequences to the clan Diarmid. Attacked 
 while on their march to join the Jacobite army 
 at Perth, by a very superior force of their 
 hereditary enemies, they had suffered, in 
 spite of the heroic exertions of their young 
 leader, a signal defeat ; and being pursued into 
 their own country, not all the protestations 
 of Fergus availed to save them generally from 
 the vengeance of the conqueror. The house of 
 Glenarroch, for example, was burned to the 
 ground, with all the shielings and homesteads 
 dependent on it ; while the tenantry were 
 driven like wild animals to the hill, and the 
 laird himself compelled to find shelter where
 
 36 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 he could among his neighbours. Nay, Ard- 
 more itself, though eventually saved, had well- 
 nigh suffered a similar fate ; inasmuch as the 
 policy of its owner, though deep enough to 
 hoodwink the agents of Government, carried 
 with it no influence over the passions of a 
 rival sept. Hence the general appearance of 
 desolation along the margin of the loch at the 
 period when our history opens — as well as the 
 substitution of a rudely constructed hut for 
 the commodious mansion at the head of the 
 glen, where Norman and his ancestors had for 
 many ages resided. 
 
 For some years after the suppression of this 
 rebellion, the clans continued to brood in si- 
 lence over their wrongs, without, however, 
 venturing to carry into execution any of the 
 wild schemes which their chiefs, from time to 
 time, concocted. It was during this interval 
 that Norman became a father ; Fergus also, 
 about two years later, becoming entitled to the 
 same appellation, though at the sacrifice of a
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 37 
 
 life dearer to him by far than that of the 
 infant that smiled in his face. The mother of 
 Marcelly survived her birth something less than 
 three weeks, leaving her child as a last legacy 
 to the protection of her aunt, by whom she was 
 nurtured with the same care that was bestow- 
 ed upon young Allan. As a necessary conse- 
 quence, the cousins became companions from 
 the cradle ; for Glenarroch and Ardmore were 
 so little apart, that Fergus consented to leave 
 his daughter in the hands of her nearest female 
 relative long after the season of mere infancy 
 had passed away. 
 
 As the children grew up, they were found, 
 both in feature and form, to bear a striking 
 resemblance to each other, due allowance be- 
 ing of course made for the difference of sexes. 
 Their dispositions and tempers were not, how- 
 ever, the same. Though it could scarcely be 
 said that he exhibited any positive vice, there 
 was, almost from his birth, a headstrong way- 
 wardness about the boy, which an excess of
 
 38 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 indulgence on the part of his parents served in 
 no degree to correct. Because he was devoid 
 of fear, robust of frame, patient of fatigue, 
 and expert in all the amusements suited to his 
 years, he seemed, in the partial eyes of his 
 father, to be faultless ; while his mother doat- 
 ed upon him by reason of his extreme beauty, 
 and the ardent attachment which from his very 
 infancy he exhibited towards herself. It was 
 to no purpose that the Rev. Neil Macpherson, a 
 worthy non-juring clergyman, who acted in the 
 double capacity of chaplain and tutor in the 
 family, complained that his charge was either 
 extremely dull of comprehension or incorri- 
 gibly obstinate. Of dulness, the father con- 
 tended, that no boy could fairly be accused who 
 surpassed all his companions in those exercises 
 which, more than any others, required readiness 
 of wit and slight-of-hand ; while, on the other 
 score, it was concluded that the good Parson 
 mistook for obstinacy the groundwork of that 
 firmness of purpose, without which no man ever
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 39 
 
 yet made a figure in the world. In a word, 
 not only did the fond parents shut their eyes 
 to faults which lay exposed to all around them, 
 but their very ears were stopped against the 
 reports of those who sought to warn them for 
 their own and their son's advantage. The 
 results were exactly such as follow in all simi- 
 lar cases. A lofty spirit, which, if judicious- 
 ly managed, might have sobered down into 
 rigid integrity, and an unbending adherence 
 to principle, grew rank, like a tree unpruned, 
 and became pride in its worst form. Selfish- 
 ness, also, the invariable accompaniment of 
 pride and petulance, its next of kin, over- 
 shadowed almost every amiable quality in the 
 young man's composition, who learned, day 
 by day, to esteem both persons and things 
 only in proportion as they tended to flatter his 
 own views, or add to his own gratifications. 
 
 We have said, that though the cousins bore 
 a striking resemblance to each other in the 
 form of their features, there was not much of
 
 40 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 similarity between their tempers and habits. 
 Perhaps we ought to have qualified this state- 
 ment, by observing, that we alluded only to 
 the characters which they severally assumed 
 after childhood had ripened into youth. If 
 there be such things as natural dispositions — 
 a fact which we are not disposed to question — 
 then had Nature dealt with these two persons 
 pretty nearly after the same manner ; it was the 
 current of circumstances, or to express our- 
 selves more accurately, the bent of their re- 
 spective educations, which wrought out the 
 contrarieties to which we now refer. As mere 
 infants, and, indeed, as something more than 
 infants, the one displayed not more unequivo- 
 cal symptoms of a lofty spirit than the other. 
 The eye of Marcelly could flash at a supposed 
 insult, and her little cheek glow when listening 
 to a tale of wrong, quite as readily as the eye or 
 the cheek of Allan ; and as to personal fear, it 
 may fairly be questioned whether the one knew 
 anything more about it than the other. But the
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 41 
 
 outbreakings of temper which, when displayed 
 by the boy, were either treated as subjects 
 of merriment, or suffered to pass unheeded, 
 received, as often as exhibited by Marcelly, a 
 fitting rebuke ; not conveyed in the tone of 
 harshness, for of that her aunt was incapable, 
 but in the language of affectionate remon- 
 strance. As a matter of course, the girl 
 obtained, day by day, a more decided com- 
 mand over herself, — and gentleness and magna- 
 nimity, a total absence of selfishness, and a 
 considerate regard to the feelings of others, 
 arose out of elements that might have brought 
 forth a very different structure. 
 
 The education of these young persons, using 
 that term in its ordinary sense, was entrusted, 
 as we took occasion to observe a little while 
 ago, principally to the management of the 
 Reverend Neil ^lacpherson ; one of those 
 strange mixtures of simplicity and shrewdness 
 with which the Episcopal church of Scotland, 
 during its season of trial, abounded. Of hum-
 
 42 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 ble birth, the son indeed of a feuar on the lands 
 of Cluny, Mr. Macpherson had been supported 
 at King"'s College, Aberdeen, partly upon an 
 exhibition, called in Scottish parlance a bur- 
 sary ; partly through the voluntary contribu- 
 tions of his chief, and of a few Highland gentle- 
 men besides. Here he enjoyed the benefit of an 
 unrestricted intercourse with many of the most 
 devoted adherents to the house of Stuart ; for 
 the provinces north of the Tay continued, long 
 after the revolution, to retain a strong predi- 
 lection in favour of the ancient dynasty ; and 
 being admitted into holy orders by Bishop Ha- 
 liburton, he served for a year or two, a cure or 
 protected chapel in that good man's diocese. 
 But the halcyon days for episcopacy in Scot- 
 land — if any days may be so designated pos- 
 terior to the revolution, were of short continu- 
 ance. Relieved by Queen Anne from the per- 
 secutions which they endured under William, 
 the accession of the house of Hanover to the 
 throne let loose once more upon the ministers 
 of that communion the vengeance of their
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 43 
 
 rivals; and the issue of the rebellion in 1715 
 contributed nothing towards placing them in 
 a more favourable position. Laws were now 
 passed, not merely to deprive the non-jurors of 
 their benefices, but to prohibit them from the 
 discharge of their professional offices ; for it 
 was expressly declared that '' every Episcopal 
 minister performing divine service in any meet- 
 ing-house within Scotland, and omitting to pray 
 for King George and the royal family, (and a 
 private room, in which should be assembled 
 nine persons in addition to the family, was 
 held to come under the meaning of the act,) 
 should suffer six months'' imprisonment/' We 
 need not add, that the spirit both of civil 
 and religious bitterness which then pervaded 
 Scotland, permitted little lenity to be display- 
 ed in the execution of this edict, or that the 
 Episcopal clergy became in consequence a 
 proscribed race, to whom, in sheer self-de- 
 fence, the subtilty of the serpent was to the 
 full as necessary as the meekness of the dove. 
 Expelled from his cure, and rendered an
 
 44 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 object of especial jealousy to the constituted 
 authorities,) in consequence of the part which 
 he was understood to have taken during 
 the recent troubles, Parson Neil Cfor so he 
 was called) sought refuge in the fastnesses 
 of Inverness-shire, where, however, he found 
 less disposition to protect him than he had 
 anticipated. The Grants, strong in the sup- 
 port of the law and zealous in the cause of the 
 kirk, readily promised their aid in executing 
 certain warrants that were out against him ; 
 and as Cluny exhibited an excusable disincli- 
 nation to oppose himself single-handed to the 
 storm, the Parson was again reduced to the 
 necessity of providing for his own safety. He 
 removed, in consequence, into Mac Diarmid's 
 territory, carrying with him letters of hearty 
 recommendation to the chief; and as an an- 
 cient alliance subsisted between the two clans, 
 he received from his new patrons a generous 
 welcome. He passed at once into the family 
 of Norman Mac Diarmid, then acting leader
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 45 
 
 of the sept ; where, besides officiating as cler- 
 gyman to a numerous and devoted flock, he 
 undertook the education of the children, a 
 task for which considerable learning, and a 
 thorough acquaintance with the traditions of 
 his native country, rendered him well qua- 
 lified. 
 
 Having said so much of this respected in- 
 dividual, we cannot consistently lay aside the 
 subject, without adding a few last words, by 
 way of rendering our portrait complete in all its 
 details. Of the outward man, meaning thereby 
 the personal appearance and address of Parson 
 Neil, it may be remarked in general terms, 
 that if there was nothing calculated to draw 
 towards him the immediate attention of a 
 stranger, there was enough to satisfy the 
 more searching observer, that he possessed a 
 great deal of what is emphatically termed 
 mother- wit. Somewhat short of stature, but 
 robust and active in his make, with a coun- 
 tenance which bore the strongest possible im-
 
 46 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 press of a Celtic origin, Parson Neil could 
 either bend his features to an expression of 
 absolute meekness, or throw into them an air of 
 dignity approaching to command. Well read 
 in human nature likewise, more especially as 
 it is modified on the northern side of the 
 Grampian range, he could adapt his conver- 
 sation and bearing to the tastes of every circle 
 in which he might chance to be thrown. His 
 deep and sonorous voice, assisted by the ex- 
 cellent quality of his Gaelic, (an accomplish- 
 ment, on the possession of which he greatly 
 piqued himself,) rendered him, as often as he 
 undertook to expound the Scriptures, a perfect 
 oracle among his poor parishioners, who re- 
 ceived his admonitions with at least as much 
 of reverence as ever Arab paid to the pre- 
 lections of Mohammed. But it was not in the 
 church alone that Neil commanded both the 
 esteem and respect of his people. Frank and 
 open in his conversation, not indisposed to 
 join in the festivities of the poor — a skilful
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 47 
 
 marksman, and an indefatigable pedestrian, he 
 taught all descriptions of men to look up to 
 him : the aged, because he was wiser and better 
 read in the Bible than themselves ; the young, 
 because he neither opposed himself to their 
 amusements, nor scrupled to take a share in 
 them. But that which more than any thing 
 besides won for him golden opinions among 
 the Mac Diarmids, was the persuasion, whence 
 acquired we have not been able to collect, that 
 he had been actually out in the fifteen. 
 
 '* She's something like a parson, tat," re- 
 marked a worthy retailer of wares, the only mer- 
 chant within the district, and himself not sus- 
 pected of an excess of heroism, — " she fears 
 neither te Teevil nor te Elector o' Hanover — 
 she fought te tane in te auld kirk o' Aberdeen 
 mony a time, and te tither at Shirra Muir ance 
 at ony rate. 
 
 To the care of this person Allan Mac Diar- 
 mid and his cousin Marcelly were very early 
 committed ; the one having attained his fourth,
 
 48 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 the other her second year, when the stranger 
 arrived among them. Upon both he bestowed 
 as great a degree of attention as the most un- 
 reasonable guardian could have required ; and, 
 for a while at least, he enjoyed the satisfaction 
 of perceiving that his assiduity was in neither 
 case wasted. But, as years rolled on, the 
 culpable fondness of his parents encouraged 
 the boy to pay less and less regard to the 
 admonitions of his tutor, who ceased at last 
 to retain any other hold over his attention 
 than an occasional appeal to his pride might 
 produce. Not that Allan ever shook off en- 
 tirely the moral influence, whether originating 
 in affection or respect, which a tutor, if he be 
 conscientious and reasonable, never fails to es- 
 tablish over the most wayward of his pupils; 
 but it operated only so far as to dash the cup 
 of guilty enjoyment with remorse, by no means 
 to hinder that goblet from being drained even 
 to the dregs. 
 
 It was not so with Marcelly ; exempt from the 
 pernicious consequences attendant on over in-
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 49 
 
 dulgence elsewhere, she profited by the ex- 
 cellent instruction which he conveyed to her, 
 till she became, by degrees, one of the best 
 informed persons within the circuit of the 
 western Highlands. It is true, that with the 
 more solid information impressed upon her 
 mind, was mixed up no trifling share of tra- 
 ditionary lore, of which the tendency doubtless 
 was to foster an enthusiasm, naturally, per- 
 haps, more extravagant than need be. But for 
 this the worthy parson was not wholly respon- 
 sible. Marcelly found in her nurse, Chris- 
 tian MacoU, a ready and willing chronicler of 
 the deeds of her forefathers. To the details of 
 these she listened with a degree of avidity far 
 surpassing that which she displayed in any 
 other pursuit ; and we say a great deal, when we 
 hazard this with reference to one, whose thirst 
 of knowledge in all its branches was excessive. 
 
 The result of all this was, that as the cou- 
 sins increased in stature, though they pursued 
 the same studies, continued inseparable in their 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 50 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 hours of play, and appeared at least as much 
 attached to each other as their connexion 
 by blood might imply, many and striking 
 diversities in their characters began gradually 
 to develope themselves. Allan humoured in 
 all his fancies, exhibited an inclination to 
 render even his regard for Marcelly subservient 
 to his feelings for himself. He caressed her 
 only in proportion as she came into his views 
 and took part in his diversions; whilst he 
 would treat even her roughly, should she at 
 any time prefer the society even of his mother 
 to his own. Marcelly, on the other hand, was 
 ever proud to sacrifice her own humours 
 in order to gratify her somewhat tyrannical, 
 though not cold-blooded relative ; though the 
 exertion necessary to do so she was not always 
 able to conceal either from herself or from those 
 around her. 
 
 Time passed, and both the boy and the girl 
 began to attain to that period in life, when an 
 unrestrained intercourse between the sexes sel-
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 51 
 
 dom fails to lead to results of a serious nature. 
 At the relative ages of sixteen and fourteen, it 
 would be difficult for the human imagination 
 to conceive a more strikingly beautiful pair. 
 The boy had shot up into incipient manhood, 
 with an elegance of bearing and a regularity 
 of feature rarely equalled ; the girl kept pace 
 with him, only that the lines of beauty were in 
 her case softened down into the most exquisite 
 gentleness. It appeared too, that the pas- 
 sage of years, while it wrought a change 
 in the external form of the relatives, was not 
 without its effect upon their feelings. Allan 
 became day by day more attentive to his gen- 
 tle cousin, and as a necessary consequence, 
 less exclusively devoted to himself ; while she, 
 by some strange caprice, seemed to shun his 
 society, in exact proportion to the degree of 
 assiduity with which he would have pressed it 
 upon her. His irritable temper of course took 
 fire, as often as his playfellow put this morti- 
 fication upon him, and he gave vent to it both 
 D 2 
 
 fJBRAHf 
 
 ^'"''EfiarvoF
 
 52 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 by words and gestures, which left no agree- 
 able impression on her mind. But the burst 
 of the moment over, he never failed of return- 
 ing again as a suitor to the charge, and she 
 not unfrequently yielded to entreaty, what she 
 had peremptorily refused to menace. Never- 
 theless it required but a trivial acquaintance 
 with the machinery of the human heart to per- 
 ceive, that events were even then in progress, 
 of which the issues were not likely to be happy. 
 Allan's school-boy regard for his cousin was 
 fast ripening into a stronger passion ; whereas, 
 on her part, the seeds of passion w^ere not only 
 not sown, — but, in all probability, had as yet 
 no existence. 
 
 Things were in this state, when the father of 
 Allan, engaging with headstrong zeal in one of 
 those conspiracies which served from time to 
 time to bring their abettors into unnecessary 
 trouble, perished under circumstances of pe- 
 culiar hardship. There was a meeting of cer- 
 tain gentlemen attached to the Stuart cause, at
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 53 
 
 an obscure inn on the banks of Loch Earn, of 
 which intimation was given, by a traitor some- 
 Avhat imprudently trusted, to the agents of 
 government. The consequence was, that the 
 inn was attacked by a force which rendered re- 
 sistance hopeless ; and the greater number of 
 those present submitted quietly to their fate, — 
 which in the end proved, as far as they were 
 personally concerned, the reverse of rigorous. 
 But Norman Mac Diarmid would enter into 
 no compromise with the followers of the Elec- 
 tor of Hanover. At the head of a few attend- 
 ants, he cut his way through the guard, 
 though not without receiving a severe wound 
 in the struggle ; from which, as there were no 
 means of dressing it at the moment, he never 
 recovered. He died, indeed, in a bothy, 
 about a long day's journey from home, with- 
 out so much as bestowing a parting benedic- 
 tion on his wife and son. 
 
 Great was the sorrow of the whole clan 
 when intelligence of this calamity reached
 
 54 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 them ; for Norman, as we have already taken 
 occasion to observe, was regarded, and not 
 without justice, as the flower of his race. 
 With respect to the widow, her grief, though 
 perfectly sincere, was tempered by a reference 
 to one blessing which was still left to her. 
 Her son survived ; and so entirely were her 
 aifections centered in him, that the loss even of 
 her husband sufficed not to bow her to the 
 earth. She caused Norman's bloody corpse to 
 be washed and waked with all the ceremonies 
 usual on such occasions : the Parson read over 
 it the funeral service amid flashing eyes and 
 glittering claymores ; it was borne to the spot 
 where the ashes of the first Mac Diarmid lay, 
 surrounded by a host of sincere mourners, who 
 retired from the grave to vow vengeance on the 
 murderers, while quaffing large potations to 
 the memory of the deceased. But all this, 
 though heart-rending enough, made less im- 
 pression upon the widow than might have been 
 expected. Allan still survived ; and so long
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 55 
 
 as he was spared to her, there was no misfor- 
 tune under which she snould not be able to 
 bear up. 
 
 Six months had elapsed from the date of 
 Norman's funeral, and matters were beginning 
 to assume their old aspect in and around Glen- 
 arroch, when Allan was seized with the small- 
 pox : a disease much more dreaded, and gene- 
 rally speaking, more fatal, a century ago, than 
 it is now. As a measure of just precaution, 
 Marcelly was immediately removed to Ardmore, 
 and his mother alone remained to nurse and com- 
 fort her son under his visitation. Allan suffered 
 terribly during the continuance of the malady, 
 his sufferings being but little relieved by the 
 injudicious treatment to which he was sub- 
 jected ; but nature had bestowed upon him an 
 iron constitution, and in defiance of heated 
 rooms and a total exclusion from fresh air, lie 
 recovered. But he rose from his sick-bed so 
 completely changed, that " the mother that bore 
 him" would have been puzzled to recognize her
 
 56 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 son. Not only was every line of beauty erased 
 from his countenance, but the scars and 
 blotches of that fell disease were so numerous 
 and so large as to distort the very form of his 
 features ; indeed it was impossible that even 
 his dearest and nearest of kin could ever again 
 look upon that face without loathing. Yet the 
 unhappy youth remained for a while ignorant 
 of the havoc which disease had made. He saw, 
 indeed, and not without surprise, that his 
 mother never approached him now, except with 
 an expression of the deepest sorrow in her 
 countenance ; but as every means of acquiring 
 a knowledge of the truth was carefully kept 
 from him, he only wearied himself to no pur- 
 pose in endeavouring to account for the fact. 
 At last, however, the fatal discovery was effect- 
 ed. From his own apartment the mirror had 
 been removed, with the vain hope of gradually 
 preparing him for the blow which must 
 eventually fall. As yet, however, courage 
 enough to introduce the subject had been
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 57 
 
 wanting ; when, contrary to the prohibition 
 of the nurse, he passed, one morning, into his 
 mother's room. She was sitting before the 
 glass, in the act of dressing her hair, when 
 Allan approaching from behind, brought his 
 own seared and blasted visage within the in- 
 fluence of its reflective powers. He saw the 
 horrid apparition, and shrank back in dismay, 
 while his mother, uttering a loud shriek, sprang 
 from her chair, and threw her arms about his 
 neck. 
 
 " Why have you done this, Allan ?" cried 
 slie : " go back, go back, for God's sake, to 
 your own room ; and never look into that 
 glass again." 
 
 " I do not understand you, mother," replied 
 Allan ; " both your words and actions are 
 mysterious to me. Why should I not look 
 into that glass ? or rather, what was that hide- 
 ous spectacle that met me, when I did look 
 into it r 
 
 " Do not ask me, my son," exclaimed his 
 D 5
 
 58 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 mother, in an imploring tone ; " it is not thus, 
 it is not now, that I can venture to reply to 
 your questions^ or say aught except to en- 
 treat that you would retire, to your own 
 apartment. I will come to you there, when 
 the agitation of the moment is over, and 
 tell you all, that you must know sooner or 
 later, however painful it may be for me to 
 speak or you to listen."' 
 
 Allan obeyed like one who follows not 
 the bent of his own volitions, but acts under 
 the guidance of some mysterious power, of the 
 nature of which he is ignorant though he feels 
 and acknowledges its force. There was a strange 
 load upon his mind, — a sort of vague anticipa- 
 tion that some dreadful calamity had over- 
 taken him, not unmixed with a sense of awe, 
 closely allied to superstition. He had listened 
 in his childhood to so many tales of wonder, 
 he had heard so much of familiar spirits, 
 wraiths, ghosts, and the Botach glass, that 
 an undefined belief in the visible existence of
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 59 
 
 such beings fixed itself involuntarily in his 
 imagination; and the dreadful vision which 
 had just appeared to him, recalled to their full 
 vigour ideas which, though they might have 
 slumbered for a while, were never absolutely 
 effaced. On the other hand, he was not wholly 
 ignorant of the dire effects sometimes pro- 
 duced by the malady from which he was re- 
 covering. It is true that he had never beheld 
 so* deplorable a specimen as that which his 
 mother's mirror seemed to present ; yet the 
 suspicion that he might himself be a victim did 
 arise in his mind, though scarcely with suffi- 
 cient clearness to dispel other and more myste- 
 rious anticipations. On the whole, therefore, 
 he returned to his own apartment in a state of 
 comparative calmness ; prepared, indeed, to 
 receive some communication that would harrow 
 him to the quick, though totally at a loss to 
 determine the shape that it might assume. 
 
 In the mean while his mother, to whom the 
 full weight of her son's misfortune seemed only
 
 60 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 now to have occurred, gave vent, as soon as his 
 back was turned, to a passion of sorrow. She 
 threw herself upon the bed, and wept the hot 
 scalding tears, not, we are afraid, of grief soft- 
 ened by a resignation to the Divine Will, but 
 of misery that partook somewhat of the tone of 
 desperation. It was, indeed, the remembrance 
 alone that the die was cast, that Allan had for 
 himself wrought out a knowledge of evil which 
 she would have hidden from him, had she 
 possessed the power, for ever, that gave her 
 strength in any degree to control her emotion, 
 and to enter upon the task that awaited her. 
 She rose, made an effort to efface the traces of 
 weeping, and joined Allan as she had promised. 
 It is not necessary to detail at length the par- 
 ticulars of their interview. Enough is done 
 when we state, that for a while she found it 
 difficult to impress upon the mind of her son 
 the reality of the facts as they had occurred ; 
 that when he did begin to comprehend her 
 full meaning, his agony rose to the most dis-
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 61 
 
 tressing height ; that he ran to the glass, — 
 stared at the disfigured countenance reflected 
 there, — raised his hand to his forehead several 
 times, as if distrusting the accuracy of sight 
 unassisted, and then burst into a long loud 
 laugh — the index of "grief too deep for tears/' 
 All the efforts, moreover, both of his mother 
 and Parson Neil, to reconcile him to a cala- 
 mity which he knew to be irremediable, failed 
 of producing the smallest effect. He shut 
 himself up in his room, caused the windows to 
 be darkened, and refused during many days to 
 hold intercourse with any members of the 
 family.
 
 62 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 A FORTNIGHT passed over in this distress- 
 ing state, and both his mother and the chaplain 
 began to entertain serious apprehensions for 
 Allan'*s reason, when it occurred to the latter, 
 that if the power of withdrawing him from 
 a sense of his misfortune rested with any one, 
 it was to Marcelly alone that they could turn 
 with the smallest prospect of success. The 
 kind-hearted girl, when applied to on the sub- 
 ject, expressed her readiness to act in any 
 capacity that might be required, and set all 
 the fears of infection, with which her nurse 
 would have restrained her, at defiance. She
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 6S 
 
 accompanied her tutor to Glenarroch, and left 
 him to arrange, according to his own judgment, 
 both the time and manner in which the inter- 
 view should take place. But the remedy to 
 which the good man trusted so much, was 
 found not to be immediately efficient. Allan 
 refused to expose his deformity to the observa- 
 tion even of Marcelly. 
 
 " Why should I render myself more dis- 
 tasteful than 1 am in her eyes. Marcelly has 
 long ceased to be to me the affectionate crea- 
 ture that she once was, and is it probable that 
 her kindly feelings will return towards a 
 wretch, so loathsome as disease has made me ? 
 No, no, sir ! tell Marcelly that I thank her, deep- 
 ly, heartily thank her, but that I will not dis- 
 play this hideous countenance even before her." 
 
 There was no arguing with a youth in the 
 temper of mind which could lead to such a 
 determination, and for the present matters 
 were allowed to continue as they were. 
 
 Though disappointed at the issue of this
 
 64 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 first trial, the parson adhered to his opinion 
 that the device would ultimately succeed. 
 Marcelly was accordingly prevailed upon to pro- 
 long her stay at Glenarroch ; and the anticipa- 
 tions which led to that arrangement, proved in 
 the end to have been well founded. Day by 
 day Allan learned from his mother, and the 
 attendant that waited upon him, that his cou- 
 sin continued an inmate under the same roof. 
 By degrees associations began to revive ; he 
 spoke of her more frequently than he used 
 to do, asked questions respecting her per- 
 sonal appearance and mode of spending her 
 time, and consented at last to admit her to an 
 interview, provided the window was more than 
 usually darkened. No objection was made to 
 this arrangement ; and the scene, though abun- 
 dantly distressing, passed off to the satisfac- 
 tion, at least of the elder branches of the 
 family. A similar course was adopted twice or 
 thrice, with an effect, on each occasion, more 
 happy than before, till at last Marcelly felt her-
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 65 
 
 self in a condition to touch upon the subject of 
 his seclusion. 
 
 " You must not give way, Allan, to un- 
 worthy feelings," said she, " nor rebel against 
 your Maker because he has seen fit to lay his 
 heavy hand upon you. What is personal 
 beauty, especially in a man, that its less, if it 
 be entirely lost, should make you forget what 
 is due to yourself, and to the name that you 
 bear ? Is there one among your friends or 
 kindred that will love you the less because the 
 form of your face may be changed, or are your 
 prospects in life impaired by a calamity which 
 affects only your outward features.'^" 
 
 " You do not know the extent of that ca- 
 lamity," replied he bitterly ; " were I to with- 
 draw this curtain, Marcelly, you would shrink 
 from me, as from a venomous reptile." 
 
 " Let me make the experiment, dear Allan," 
 was her ready answer, delivered in her most 
 persuasive tone : " I am sure that you exag- 
 gerate the evil, since I must call it so, exactly
 
 6b ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 as you used to do my perverseness when I 
 chose rather to sit and hear old Christie tell 
 her stories, than carry your creel to the river. 
 Nay, now, by all the happy days that we have 
 spent together, let me convince you, that in 
 my eyes at least, you are now j ust as much an 
 object of esteem and affection as you ever 
 were." 
 
 Allan trembled in every joint as with a 
 desperate hand he seized the curtain, and turn- 
 ing at the same time his distorted countenance 
 towards Marcelly, withdrew it with a crash. To 
 say that she was shocked, when the strong 
 light rushing in, made her aware, in a mo- 
 ment, of the frightful change in his appear- 
 ance, were to employ language quite inappro- 
 priate to the occasion. Prepared she was for 
 much — she had been told that he was griev- 
 ously deformed, and her fancy conjured up 
 the likenesses of various persons, some of them 
 heavily marked, whom she had chanced to 
 meet at different times; but for such a spectacle
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 67 
 
 as now greeted her eyes, she was not prepared. 
 Not all her resolution availed to repress a 
 start, for which the suddenness of the move- 
 ment might, perhaps, have accounted, had it 
 been possible for her to meet without flinching 
 the fflance that he threw immediately towards 
 her. But there was an expression in that stare 
 so fierce, a glare so thoroughly desperate, not 
 to use any harsher term, that her eye could 
 not support it. It fell to the ground, while 
 her hand, rising as it seemed involuntarily, 
 passed with a quick but painful motion, 
 across her brow. 
 
 " Did I not say so .?" shouted Allan, spring- 
 ing back into a darkened corner of the room. 
 " Did I not tell you that to look upon this 
 face without disgust and loathing, was beyond 
 your power. Go, Marcelly ! leave me, ere I curse 
 both you and myself, to the fate which Heaven 
 has worked out for me — we never meet again." 
 
 She would have spoken to him in accents of 
 soothing and comfort, but he would not hear
 
 68 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 her. His fiercer passions seemed to have gain- 
 ed the mastery over all the associations con- 
 nected with days gone by, for he stamped 
 furiously on the ground, and again commanded 
 her to be gone. The poor girl wept bitterly 
 and withdrew. 
 
 Many days elapsed, after this harrowing 
 interview, ere Allan would consent to receive 
 a visit, even from his mother or Parson Neil. 
 His curtains were all this while drawn so 
 closely together, that scarce a ray of light 
 could penetrate ; and the nurse herself was 
 commanded to withdraw so soon as she had 
 arranged the food, which in slender quantities 
 he permitted her to deposit on his table. It 
 seemed, indeed, as if the iron had entered so 
 deeply into his soul, that reason herself ran a 
 hazard of being shaken from her seat ; for he 
 positively refused to hold the slightest inter- 
 course with any human being, and noticed 
 those who waited upon him only by signs. 
 But in the midst of their deliberations how it
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 69 
 
 behoved them to act, Allan suddenly burst 
 like an apparition into the presence of his 
 guardians. They were assembled in the little 
 parlour, the only room in the house which 
 could by any misapplication of human lan- 
 guage be termed public — when the door flew 
 open, and Allan, arrayed in his ordinary garb, 
 entered. As if actuated by one common feel- 
 ing of dismay, all rose from their seats. He 
 broke forth into a hysteric laugh, and dash- 
 ing his hand violently on the table, exclaimed, 
 in a tone of bitter irony : " What, afraid ! 
 all of you afraid ! I am not the evil genius 
 of the name. No — I am Allan — Allan Breck, 
 if you will — but still Allan Mac Diarmid, as 
 both friends and foes shall learn to their cost. 
 Look up, gentlemen — it may be but an un- 
 pleasant object to contemplate — but this dis- 
 figured countenance is not my handywork — it 
 is such as God has made it." 
 
 We need scarcely add, that his friends 
 hastened, by all the attention which they
 
 70 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 could bestow, to divert his thoughts into a 
 more agreeable channel ; and that their efforts, 
 though not attended with immediate success, 
 produced, by degrees, the fruits that might 
 be expected from them. 
 
 It is unnecessary to dwell more at length 
 upon this stage in our history. Let it suf- 
 fice to state, that Allan, passing from one 
 extreme to another, rushed all at once into 
 the most conspicuous positions which circum- 
 stances could enable him to assume. Not 
 only was his reluctance to hold intercourse 
 with strangers overcome, but he never appear- 
 ed so much at ease, as when conversing with, 
 or treating as his familiars, persons whom he 
 had never, or next to never, seen before. 
 The selfishness, too, which from his infancy had 
 formed a prominent feature in his character, 
 acquired every day additional strength; and 
 as years increased upon him, he began to in- 
 dulge it more and more, in a fashion as little 
 creditable to himself as it was unsatisfactory to
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 71 
 
 his friends. Debauchery, in its lowest and 
 most odious forms, became the main object 
 of his existence. His associates were all chosen 
 from among the most depraved and dissolute 
 of the youth that dwelt within a circuit of 
 many miles, over whom he gradually esta- 
 blished a decided ascendancy, not more by 
 reason of his superior power, both of body 
 and mind, than because he far surpassed them 
 all in reckless extravagance and unbounded 
 licentiousness. 
 
 Of the irregularities in which her son in- 
 dulged, Mrs. Mac Diarmid long remained ig- 
 norant, because she refused to credit the 
 faintest report to his discredit. It was not 
 so with the worthy chaplain, who strove, both 
 by advice and entreaty, to reclaim his pupil 
 from error, but who was invariably treated 
 with an indifference that partook largely of 
 contempt. 
 
 From Marcelly alone the unhappy youth 
 appeared desirous of concealing his irregula-
 
 *72 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 rities. He met her but rarely, it is true, for 
 she had now assumed her proper place in 
 the household of her father; and it seemed 
 as if the associations connected with Glenar- 
 roch were not agreeable to her. But as often 
 as they did meet, he put a remarkable re- 
 straint upon his manner, striving to appear 
 in all respects what he had been in the hap- 
 piest days of their childhood. Yet Marcelly 
 took no delight in his society, and he was 
 too sharp of observation not to perceive that 
 the case was so. How far the knowledge of 
 that fact may have urged him forward in his 
 wild career, we cannot pretend to say. All 
 that we do know is this — that day by day, 
 and month by month, the evil propensities of 
 his nature gained strength. He became more 
 and more proud, more and more selfish, more 
 and more bent upon indulging his own hu- 
 mours — no matter how great the sacrifice 
 which their indulgence might compel others 
 to make.
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 73 
 
 Two years had elapsed since his recovery 
 from the small-pox, when Allan, into the state 
 of whose feelings the reader has already re- 
 ceived some insight, ventured, for the first 
 time, to address his cousin in the language 
 of a lover. He was repulsed with firmness, 
 perhaps with something of severity ; for which 
 the infatuated youth found a cause in the 
 grievous deformity of his features ; and he 
 received on the instant an impression, not 
 easy to be eradicated, that Heaven had marked 
 him out as an object of its especial hate. 
 Smarting under the sense of this imaginary 
 wrong, he plunged deeper and deeper into the 
 abyss of folly and crime. The whole human 
 race became to him, with the exception of one 
 or two individuals, personal enemies. Be- 
 lieving that he was abhorred of all, he repaid 
 that abhorrence with interest; and though he 
 controlled his temper so far as to deal with 
 those around him as with tools, it cannot be 
 said that he entertained, even for the most 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 74 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 trusted of his comrades, the shadow of affec- 
 tion. In few words, if ever there existed a 
 misanthropist, Allan Breck was one; not 
 theoretically, as those may be who withdraw 
 from society and indulge their spleen in idle 
 murmurs, but practically, and to the utmost 
 extent to which circumstances would permit 
 him to go. 
 
 The excesses of which Allan was guilty, and 
 the habits of low debauchery in which he in- 
 dulged, began, by degrees, to create such a 
 feeling in the clan, that his uncle considered 
 it necessary to remonstrate, in strong language, 
 against them. His remonstrances were met 
 with a haughty insolence, which Fergus could 
 not brook, and the friendly intercourse which 
 had so long subsisted between the two families 
 suffered an interruption. Mrs. Mac Diarmid 
 began in consequence to suspect, that for the 
 tales which occasionally reached her there 
 might be some foundation, and she summon- 
 ed resolution to hold at last a serious conver-
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 75 
 
 sation with Parson Neil. Devoted to the in- 
 terest of his patron's house, the Parson con- 
 cealed nothing : he laid before her a full state- 
 ment of her son's enormities ; he pointed out 
 the inevitable consequences to which a perse- 
 verance in such a course must lead, and he 
 summed up all by entreating that she would 
 take the only step that promised to hold 
 out even a chance of reclaiming him from his 
 errors. " He must be withdrawn for a time,"" 
 continued the Parson, " from the scenes of his 
 early profligacy, and removed from the con- 
 tagion of a reprobate society ; and as this can 
 be done only by his temporary banishment 
 from this place, you must overcome your per- 
 sonal predilections so far as to consent to a sepa- 
 ration. Allan's education is as yet very imper- 
 fect : in every point of view, it were fitting that 
 he spent a year or two in the low country, that 
 his knowledge of the world may be enlarged, 
 and himself become more worthy to play the 
 part which may yet be reserved for him.'" 
 E 2
 
 76 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 The lady doated upon her son, and would 
 not, for a time, consent to entertain the pro- 
 position. As day after day, however, brought 
 in fresh rumours to his disadvantage, and 
 Fergus, not less than the chaplain, urged the 
 adoption of the scheme, she gave at length a 
 reluctant consent — this sole condition being 
 reserved, that Allan himself did not object 
 to the arrangement. Now it had not entered 
 into the calculations of Parson Neil, that to 
 consult the wishes of a party circumstanced as 
 Allan was, would be either requisite or pru- 
 dent, and hence, when he found his patroness 
 resolute, he ceased at once to augur any good 
 from the measure ; but he was deceived. Al- 
 lan not only offered no objection to the plan, 
 but appeared to grasp at it with avidity, ex- 
 pressing himself impatient for the arrival of 
 the day which should send him forth, as he 
 expressed it, to look upon the world. All, 
 therefore, that remained to be done, pre- 
 liminary to his departure, was to make ar-
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 77 
 
 rangements touching the place of his future 
 residence ; and it being finally determined that 
 he should take up his abode in Edinburgh, 
 where he would at once enjoy the benefits of a 
 polished society and the instruction of able 
 masters, due care was taken, through the in- 
 strumentality of an ancient chum, or college 
 acquaintance, of the Parson, to provide for 
 him such accommodation as was deemed fit- 
 ting. 
 
 While the epistolary communications neces- 
 sary to attain this end were in progress between 
 Parson Neil and Mr. Saunders Keeli vine, writer, 
 of the Lawn Market, Allan withdrew himself in 
 some measure from his loose companions, and 
 made more than one effort to regain the place 
 which he once held in the esteem of his uncle and 
 cousin. Though not positively rejected, his ad- 
 vances were coolly met — a circumstance which 
 wounded his vanity to the full as much as it 
 excited his regret ; nevertheless, he persevered 
 so far as to force himself, on more than one
 
 78 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 occasion, into their society. Towards Marcelly, 
 in particular, his attentions amounted to some- 
 thing like persecution; for he dogged her at 
 every turn, and never failed, as often as an 
 opportunity offered, of addressing her in lan- 
 guage such as she had repeatedly forbidden 
 him to employ ; till she ceased at last to quit 
 the shelter of her father's roof, unless under 
 his own protection. Allan became, by turns, 
 furious and desponding. Now he would me- 
 ditate some act of desperate violence, such as 
 might effectually humble the pride, as he 
 termed it, of his cousin ; now he would im- 
 precate curses upon his own head, or blas- 
 pheme against Heaven, for having made him 
 what he was. But as the time appointed for 
 his departure drew on, all his former passions 
 seemed to merge in the deep and harrowing 
 conviction that he was doomed by fate to a life 
 of utter misery. Could he but hope, at some 
 period or other, no matter how distant, to 
 effect a change in the feelings of Marcelly, then
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 79 
 
 there might be, even yet, an object in life 
 worth seeking; but while scorned by her, 
 towards whom he looked as the benighted 
 mariner looks to some solitary light in the 
 horizon, then, indeed, was the future without 
 a beacon by which to guide his course. 
 
 It was with the desperate chance of turning 
 to some favourable account the gentler feel- 
 ings which an approaching separation is apt 
 to excite, that Allan, on the evening preceding 
 the day that was to witness the commencement 
 of his journey, prevailed upon his cousin to 
 grant him a meeting. With the circumstances 
 that attended this interview, as well as with 
 the results to which it led, our readers have 
 already been made acquainted. We therefore 
 return to the thread of our history, which has 
 been somewhat too long interrupted.
 
 80 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Stung to the quick by the reception which 
 Marcelly had afforded him, Allan pursued his 
 way homeward in a frame of mind which may, 
 perhaps, come within the reach of a fertile 
 imagination, but which common language were 
 inadequate to describe. For a time rage — un- 
 governable rage, was the single passion that 
 swayed him. He uttered no execrations, he 
 made no rash vows, but hurried forward with 
 a rapidity of step that would have afforded 
 sufficient testimony, had there been any one 
 near to record it, as to the state of absolute 
 chaos into which his thoughts were plunged.
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 81 
 
 As he approached the foot of the avenue, how- 
 ever, pride began to struggle for the mastery 
 over anger. He slackened his pace, turned 
 his face so as to catch the breeze that blew 
 from the loch, and shaking his head violently, 
 made an effort to recover at least the semblance 
 of composure. But all his exertions availed 
 not. The struggle to smother one strong feel- 
 ing brought another into play ; and, however 
 mortifying the circumstance might be, tears 
 rose into his eyes, and more than a woman's 
 softness stole over him. This was especially 
 the case as he grasped the latch by which the 
 outer door was secured; indeed, his agitation 
 became such, that his first and most obvious 
 endeavour was to raise the fastening with as 
 little noise as possible, that he might pass un- 
 observed to his own apartment. But that he 
 found it impracticable to effect. His mother, 
 from whose mind the prospect of to-morrow's 
 separation was never absent, listened anxiously 
 for his footstep in the hall, and hearing it, 
 e5
 
 S2 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 though planted with extraordinary care, sprang 
 forward to meet him. We have stated else- 
 where, that from his infancy Allan entertained 
 for his mother the tenderest regard. Before 
 her, indeed, his temper, however ruffled, be- 
 came on all occasions calm and serene, as if a 
 spell controlled it ; indeed an exalted sense of 
 filial piety constituted almost the only virtue 
 which neither misfortune nor crime could era- 
 dicate from his nature. Yet on the present 
 occasion even that failed of producing its cus- 
 tomary effect. He pushed her roughly aside, 
 and hurrying up stairs, took shelter in his own 
 apartment. 
 
 To have her proffered embrace rejected by 
 the son on whom she doated, was to Mrs. Mac 
 Diarmid an occurrence so novel, that she found 
 herself wholly incapable of accounting for it. 
 For a moment or two she stood irresolute where 
 he left her ; but a conviction that some dire 
 calamity must have befallen him, soon over- 
 coming every other consideration, her presence 
 of mind almost immediately returned. She
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 83 
 
 hurried after him, and pushing open his un- 
 fastened door, saw by the feeble twilight which 
 still glimmered, that he lay extended on his 
 face across the bed. She sprang forward and 
 throwing her arms convulsively around his 
 neck, burst into a flood of weeping. 
 
 " You are unhappy, Allan ; I have long 
 suspected that you were so, and yet you have 
 not unburdened yourself to me. Is this kind ? 
 have I deserved it at your hands .''" 
 
 " I am indeed unhappy, mother,'' replied 
 he, '* so unhappy, that I pray God there may 
 not be upon the face of the earth another hu- 
 man being whose miseries equal mine. But 
 wherefore should I distress you with a detail 
 of my sorrows ? you need but look on my face, 
 and part, at least, of the load that presses me 
 down, becomes familiar to you. Oh, my mo- 
 ther ! why was I ever born ? — and above all, 
 why did you ever bring me through that dire 
 distemper, to perish under which would have 
 been mercy compared to this V 
 
 " Do not say so, Allan, nor blame any one
 
 84 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 besides for events which God alone could regu- 
 late. You were born to be the support and 
 comfort of your mother, who but for you were 
 friendless in the world ; and you were raised 
 from your sick bed in order that you might 
 continue to cheer her amid the growing cold- 
 ness and estrangement of those from whom she 
 had a right to look for other treatment.'*' 
 
 " You have touched the chord that vibrates 
 here,"*' exclaimed he, rising, and laying his 
 hand on his bosom ; '^ you have probed the 
 wound that has long rankled in my heart. I, 
 too, complain, that those from whom I had a 
 riffht to look for kindness turn their backs 
 upon me. Yet I scarcely blame them. Who 
 could love a monster so hideous as Allan 
 Breck .?" 
 
 "A monster, Allan! a hideous monster! 
 who would dare to call you so ? I tell you, 
 boy, that in spite of the change which disease 
 may have wrought in your features, there is 
 not a girl in the Western Highlands that would
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 85 
 
 not be proud to become the wife of Allan, the 
 heir of Norman Mac Diarmid's renown, and 
 more than Norman Mac Diarmid's virtues. 
 You are beloved, you must always be beloved, 
 go where you may, and mix with whom you 
 will." 
 
 " I would it were so, mother ; for then 
 would the thought of what I am, lose a portion, 
 at least, of its bitterness."" 
 
 " And is there any reason that you should 
 doubt it ? Have you received aught of un- 
 kindness at the hands of those from whom you 
 were entitled to look for different treatment ? 
 Allan,"" continued she after a pause, during 
 which she had watched with an observing eye 
 every working of his countenance, " I know 
 that there is some secret cause of grief within 
 that bosom, and I have not lived so long in 
 the world, without being able to form my own 
 suspicions as to its cause. You and Marcelly 
 have been too much together '"'' 
 
 " Hush, hush, mother !" cried he, interrupt-
 
 86 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 ing her, and raising his hand towards her lips, 
 " say not one word about Marcelly. We were 
 dear to each other, it is true, as ciiildren; but 
 if the changes which time has wrought have oc- 
 casioned a coldness on her side, or on mine — 
 the one has no right to complain that the other 
 is fickle;' 
 
 " That will not do, Allan," replied his 
 mother ; " you cannot hide the truth from me. 
 You love Marcelly, and" — here her voice fal- 
 tered and she spoke in a low tone — " she does 
 not return your passion ?" 
 
 " I did not say so, mother,'' cried he hur- 
 riedly ; " it may be, or it may not be ; but 
 what is that to any one except myself?'' 
 
 " It is everything to me, Allan ; everything 
 to one whose hopes of happiness in this world 
 and in the next, are all bound up in her desire 
 to witness the prosperity of her son. Did I not 
 say truly, Marcelly has rejected your suit ?" 
 
 " And if it were so, mother," replied Al- 
 lan, dejectedly, " can I blame her for that ?
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 87 
 
 Oh, no, no ! I blame only myself ; — branded 
 by Nature as an outcast from female society, 
 how could I presume to lift my eyes to one so 
 pure, so excellent, so beautiful ?" 
 
 " I thought as much r exclaimed his mother, 
 speaking rather to herself than to him; " I 
 conjectured that the extreme anxiety to re- 
 claim him from his evil habits, the earnest 
 desire to secure for him the benefits of a more 
 polished education, was not wholly produced 
 by a regard to his welfare or a wish to see him 
 play the part that his father played. And 
 Parson Neil, too, is he labouring to destroy 
 the peace of a family which gave him protec- 
 tion when he stood most in need, and has 
 afforded him shelter ever since? But it shall 
 not avail. Allan, you love Marcelly ?'^ 
 
 " Yes, mother, more than I love myself — 
 more than I love even thee." 
 
 " And she has rejected you ?^' 
 
 *' Even so, mother; she promises all that a 
 sister can give, but she promises no more."
 
 88 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 " And you are content to come into her 
 terms: you relinquish your claims upon her 
 hand, and are willing that she should bestow it 
 on some more fortunate rival ?" 
 
 " Mother," cried Allan, " I had not antici- 
 pated this from you. I did not believe that 
 you could thus mock your son in his misery r 
 
 " Mock thee, Allan ! no, God is my witness, 
 I but put to thee such questions as the state 
 of the case seemed to suggest. Tell me, then, 
 would the possession of Marcelly make thee 
 happy? is it the dread that thou mayest not 
 possess her that wrings from thee the salt tears 
 that I behold now ?" 
 
 " Were Marcelly mine, mother, I know not 
 the circumstance, apart from the loss of thee, 
 that could disturb my peace of mind for a mo- 
 ment. Without her, neither earth nor heaven 
 possess aught for which it were worth while to 
 strive.'' 
 
 " Then she shall be thine. Not a word, 
 boy !" continued she, worked up into enthusi-
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 89 
 
 asm; " I will listen to no expostulations, 
 no objections, founded on romantic ideas of 
 generosity. The girl will be too happy as 
 thy wife, however much her capricious hu- 
 mour may spurn the idea now ; and if a little 
 gentle violence be necessary, why, no more 
 will happen in her case, than has occurred 
 in the cases of others, at least as deserving 
 to be wooed and won. If she or her father 
 lend a favourable ear to thy suit, I being 
 thy spokeswoman, it is well ; if not, may Hea- 
 ven forsake me so surely as I fail to make her 
 thine — no matter how great the sacrifices re- 
 quired in order to do so." 
 
 *' But I will have no violence put upon her 
 wishes, mother. I love Marcelly, it is true — 
 even to madness : but to force the body when 
 the mind goes not along with it ! — no, mother, 
 no ! I may be wretched without her, but I 
 should become ten times more wretched after 
 such an act as that." 
 
 " Allan," replied his mother, solemnly.
 
 90 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 " have you any confidence in me? Do I de- 
 serve to be treated as your friend, or do I 
 not ?" 
 
 " I have no friend in the world, mother, 
 except yourself." 
 
 " Then believe me when I say — and I will 
 swear to the declaration if you wish — that in 
 all my arrangements I look not more to your 
 ultimate happiness than to her'*s. I brought 
 her up with the same care that I bestowed 
 upon yourself — I loved her as a child — I love 
 her at this moment with an affection inferior 
 only to that which binds me to you ; and 
 never could I think of inflicting a permanent 
 wound upon her peace, were 1 even assured 
 that by so doing I should secure for you 
 the throne of a monarch. No, Allan; from my 
 own experience I can attest, that to insure the 
 utmost degree of happiness in the married 
 state, it is not necessary that the bride should 
 experience at the altar the same ardent love 
 that burns in the bridegroom's bosom. The
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 91 
 
 best assorted matches are, on the contrary, 
 those which, on the woman's part at least, 
 begin in comparative indifference ; for if the 
 husband be kind — and you, Allan, cannot prove 
 otherwise than kind — her love increases from 
 day to day, and from month to month. Now 
 Marcelly does not and cannot entertain for you 
 any decided aversion. That is clearly impossi- 
 ble ; indeed her declaration, that she feels for 
 you as a sister, may render both our minds easy 
 on that head; and if she do at first experi- 
 ence a reluctance to link her fate with your'*s, 
 you must, and you will, by your conduct in 
 future years, teach her to look back upon the 
 existence of such a feeling with surprise. 
 Will you, then, put yourself entirely into my 
 hands .P — Promise to obey my injunctions im- 
 plicitly, and I pledge myself that Marcelly 
 shall yet be to you, more than ever I was to 
 your father." 
 
 " If I could trust to all this, mother." 
 
 " Trust ! Allan ; can you distrust your mo-
 
 92 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 ther? Have I ever deceived or misled you 
 since you were born ?" 
 
 " No, mother, never ; nor will you mislead 
 me now. I put my case entirely into your 
 hands — you shall do with me what you will/' 
 
 '* Then good night, my son ; and a mother's 
 blessing guard your slumbers ! You will pro- 
 secute your journey in the morning, as it was 
 intended that you should ; only be prepared, 
 when you receive your instructions from me, 
 to obey them without inquiry, and without 
 scruple.^' 
 
 So saying, she kissed his forehead, and in 
 less than half an hour, the silence of universal 
 sleep prevailed through the dwelling.
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 93 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 It was a dark and drizzling morning, with a 
 smart gale from the west, which drove the mist 
 in heavy billows along the hills, when three 
 rough and shaggy ponies, arriving in front 
 of the house of Glenarroch, gave notice that 
 the hour of Allan's departure was at hand. 
 Three half-clad gillies, as the youths that 
 hang idly about the residences of the High- 
 land gentry are called, led the animals back- 
 wards and forwards, while a fourth, equipped 
 in the garb of a lowland valet, stood apart, 
 with folded arms, and an expression of con- 
 siderable self-importance in his eye. The lat-
 
 94 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 ter, indeed, seemed so perfectly satisfied with 
 himself, that it became, in a measure, neces- 
 sary to convince others of their own infe- 
 riority ; and he accordingly proceeded, after 
 examining the animals for a few moments, to 
 make the grooms aware how imperfectly they 
 were acquainted with the mysteries of their 
 craft. 
 
 " Ye haenna pitten on Glenarroch's saddle 
 right, Joan," said he. " Ye 're ta stupidest 
 creatur that ever gaed aboot a house ! Dinna 
 ye see that the tae iron is twice as lang as the 
 tither; and the curpins's no' buckled ava? 
 Wha could pit sic a fule as you to look after 
 Christian horse ?" 
 
 " Oo ay, Galium," was the answer; *' yeVe 
 aye finding faut ! Nae doubt it would ha' 
 been better dune had ye pitten it on yourself ; 
 but Glenarroch 's mair easy to please than 
 ye are ; and I serve him, no' you." 
 
 "And what's that ye've done with the
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 95 
 
 Parson's wallees, Erick ? Did ever body see 
 wallees strapped on at sic a gate as that ?*" 
 
 " I dinna ken, Galium ; but, may be, ye 
 wad be pitten them before. We '11 a"* ken mair 
 aboot thae matters, doubtless, when ye come 
 back fra Edinburgh." 
 
 " And if the fule has na sewed rapes on 
 my powny ! What do ye think I am going 
 to do with thae things? If there be na 
 stirrup-arons to the fore, wad ye put off 
 Glenarroch's body-servant wi' twa rapes ?'' 
 
 " Trowth, an' ye may be right there, 
 friend ! " replied the third hostler. " The 
 rape ought, may be, to be for your neck, 
 no' for your heels, Galium." 
 
 This sally produced a laugh at Gallum's ex- 
 pense, which he condescended to notice only 
 by a contemptuous toss of the head; after 
 which, he set his hat smartly on one side of 
 his head, and walked away. 
 
 While this interesting conversation went
 
 96 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 on out of doors, Allan, his mother, and Par- 
 son Neil were assembled at their morning 
 meal. It passed over in total silence, each 
 of the parties appearing too much engrossed 
 by matters of private consideration to find 
 leisure for inquiring into the thoughts that 
 gave occupation to the rest. On the counte- 
 nance of the lady might be discovered traces of 
 a deep and painful anxiety — the expression of 
 one who feels that some task of great difficulty 
 has been undertaken, and that it must be 
 carried through. Allan's countenance, again, 
 though somewhat care-worn, might be said 
 to wear less of gloom than was habitual to 
 it; while the Parson mused upon something 
 which evidently partook of a mixed character. 
 He had spent an hour that morning in private 
 with the widow of his patron ; and the subject 
 of their conference, be it what it might, was 
 such as to affect him powerfully. Neverthe- 
 less, he was the first to command the use of
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 97 
 
 speech. Pulling a small, round piece of silver 
 from his pocket, and examining its dark hands, 
 he remarked that time wore apace, and that if 
 they hoped to reach the inn where it was pro- 
 posed that they should pass the night, the 
 sooner they set out upon their journey the bet- 
 ter. Allan and his mother assented rather by 
 signs than words, and they all rose from the 
 table. 
 
 We pass over the ceremony of taking leave, 
 of which it may with truth be stated, that a 
 colder piece of acting has seldom been exhi- 
 bited. One brief whisper — whether of admo- 
 nition or warning, the low tone in which it 
 was uttered hindered the bystanders from as- 
 certaining — was all that passed between Allan 
 and his mother, ere, kissing her cheek, he 
 sprang into the saddle, and turned his horse's 
 head towards the loch. The example was 
 promptly followed both by the Parson and 
 Galium. The former, indeed, lingered behind 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 yS ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 his charge, and stooping down, said a few- 
 words to his patroness; but as she merely 
 shook her head in reply, he made no effort to 
 prolong the conversation. In five minutes he 
 was at Allan's side, and with a leisurely pace 
 they jogged on. 
 
 The route which the travellers pursued 
 carried them a space of two or three miles 
 by the margin of the loch, and in a direc- 
 tion opposite to that where stood the house of 
 Ardmore. For some time the scenery, though 
 magnificent throughout, became less and less 
 rugged as they advanced, the hills shelving 
 gradually backwards, and the turf assuming 
 at every step a deeper and a richer hue, till 
 arriving at a turn of the road which wound 
 inwards from the coast, they entered abruptly 
 into the gorge of one of the most extraordinary 
 passes that are to be found in any country. A 
 narrow track, or causeway, cut in the side of 
 the mountain, passed upwards between a double
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 99 
 
 range of black and precipitous rocks, which, 
 totally bare of foliage, except where the ruins 
 of a gnarled fir hung here and there over a 
 corrie, reared their bald fronts to Heaven. 
 Now a peaked and lofty cone would tower into 
 the sky, its summit displayed by fits and starts 
 as the mist drifted along; now an enormous 
 mass overhung them, in shapes the most fan- 
 tastic, presenting to those unaccustomed to 
 such spectacles the appearance of positive 
 danger. About the centre of the glen, lay a 
 small but beautiful lake, from which issued a 
 rivulet of clear water, that, leaping from pool 
 to pool, and stream to stream, broke with the 
 sweetest of Nature's music upon the extraordi- 
 nary silence of the place. Yet the roar of the 
 waterfall was not the only sound which the ear 
 of the listener might catch. Wherever the 
 stranger stays his steps, he will hear, amid the 
 pause of the stream, a constant tinkling, as if 
 stones were continually breaking loose from 
 
 F 2
 
 100 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 the precipices overhead, and rolling down into 
 the valley. 
 
 He who is suddenly introduced to such a 
 scene as this becomes involuntarily the slave of 
 sensations, which, be they of wonder or of 
 awe, or of some other passion more intimately 
 connected with our spiritual existence, take 
 away from him the desire — we had almost said 
 the faculty, of speech. We breathe, indeed, 
 but it is like men brought into contact with 
 beings of a higher order ; for the absolute 
 loneliness that prevails gives our imagination 
 power to people the very air around us we 
 know not with what. This must, to a greater 
 or less degree, be the case at all seasons, whe- 
 ther of sunshine or of gloom ; but when the 
 mists are rolling thick, or the winds sweep- 
 ing them onwards — when now they shroud 
 in utter obscurity objects however near at 
 hand, now open out a momentary glimpse of 
 chasms, and bristling crags, deep gullies, and 
 dark ravines, he must be made of impenetrable
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 101 
 
 stuff indeed who experiences no disposition to 
 place some confidence in traditions that have 
 marked out such spots as, in ages long gone by, 
 the abodes of beings of a higher order than man. 
 Be this, however, as it may, no fact can be 
 more fully ascertained, than that the inhabi- 
 tants of mountainous countries are almost al- 
 ways superstitious ; and if the circumstance be 
 not referable to the wild nature of the scenery 
 amid which they live, we, at least, know not 
 where to turn for a solution of the problem. 
 
 From the infirmity (for so we presume it 
 ought to be termed) to which almost all his 
 countrymen of the last century were subject, 
 Allan Breck was not free ; and even the Par- 
 son, notwithstanding his experience in life, 
 seemed, since his settlement in Glenarroch, to 
 fall occasionally into the same mode of think- 
 ing. With the former, however, a belief 
 in the reality of spiritual visitations operated 
 in rendering him uneasy as often as the subject 
 occurred to his mind ; with the latter, no
 
 102 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 stronger feeling existed, than does perhaps 
 exist at times in all men. But though there 
 was this wide distinction in the bases on which 
 the superstition of the travellers rested, both 
 seemed, on the present occasion, to turn their 
 thoughts into one channel. They had ridden 
 a space of some miles without exchanging a 
 word, when Allan, pushing his horse close to 
 that of his companion, entered abruptly upon 
 the subject. 
 
 "If it be false that beings are permitted 
 to visit this earth of an order superior to 
 ourselves, how comes it that in all ages a 
 contrary belief has prevailed ? Whence does 
 it arise, that, even now, with all the lights of 
 modern science around us, a conviction to the 
 contrary should be so strongly impressed upon 
 the minds of men in general ?" 
 
 " He were a bold sceptic that would assert 
 positively that the beings of whom you speak 
 have no existence,"" replied the Parson ; " and 
 he were scarcely less bold that would deny
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 103 
 
 altogether that they may be occasionally per- 
 mitted to interfere in the affairs of men. But 
 of this, Allan, we may rest assured, that the 
 instances of such visitations, if such there be, 
 are few indeed, inasmuch as the ordinary laws 
 of nature are not to be reversed, except on 
 great and momentous occasions. If the fate of 
 an empire hang in the balance, I see no reason 
 why the issue of the trial may not be super- 
 naturally indicated' now, as it was in times of 
 old ; but no man can seriously believe that 
 spirits are raised merely to frighten women 
 and children.'' 
 
 *' I never supposed the contrary,*" rejoined 
 Allan. " The repose of the dead were some- 
 thing very different from what it seems to be, 
 were they liable to be called from their graves 
 for purposes so unworthy. But, besides the 
 cases to which you refer, may not particular 
 families be watched by their familiar spirits, 
 as James the Third, they say, was watched by 
 his.'* Nay, what do you think of our own
 
 104 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 Banshee ? Are you inclined to credit the tales 
 that are told of it ?" 
 
 " This much I firmly believe," answered the 
 Parson, " that Coll, the ancient ruler of the 
 country, perished miserably by the hand of 
 your great ancestor ; and that a notion has 
 ever since prevailed, that his ghost appears 
 just before some heavy calamity is about to 
 befall the Mac Diarmids. But, as I never saw 
 the spirit, nor heard him, my credulity extends 
 no farther." 
 
 '' Then will you witness to-day what you 
 never witnessed before," exclaimed Allan ; " for 
 if the tales be true that are current in the 
 glen, I hear, even now, the wailing that pre- 
 cedes his visitations." 
 
 The travellers reined in their steeds and 
 looked eagerly towards a corrie on their 
 right hand, along the brow of which a cloud 
 of dense fog was sailing. A low feeble cry, 
 something between a whistle and a moan, 
 came distinctly down upon the blast ; and the
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 105 
 
 breathing, both of Allan and his attendant 
 Galium, thickened as they took it in. The 
 latter, indeed, who had gradually edged close 
 to Parson Neil, presented a pitiable spectacle 
 of superstitious horror, as, with cheeks pale, 
 and eyes distended, he muttered, in a voice 
 scarcely audible — " God preserve us ! ta Botach 
 Glas." But the Parson, though unmanned for 
 an instant, shook off with the rapidity of 
 thought a weakness, of which, had he dis- 
 played it elsewhere, he w^ould have been 
 heartily ashamed. " That is but the echo 
 of the wind among the rocks,"" said he, " a 
 sound which, I doubt not, is always to be 
 heard as often as the weather sets in from the 
 stormy quarter. Besides, Allan, who ever 
 heard of a ghost, or Botach Glas, making his 
 appearance in broad day .?" 
 
 " Elsewhere such visitations may be rare/' 
 replied Allan, " but here — hark ! what call ye 
 that sound V' 
 
 As he spoke, there arose from the same 
 F 5
 
 106 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 quarter another and still more audible cry, 
 as of men and women's voices mingling in a 
 lament for the dead. By and by the scream 
 of a bagpipe broke in upon the chaunt, which 
 became every moment more and more distinct, 
 till the mist, opening all at once, displayed 
 to the view of the travellers a funeral party 
 descending at a slow pace the brow of an 
 opposite hill. To have hurried forward with- 
 out saluting the bier, would have been to incur 
 a charge under which no Highlander would will- 
 ingly lie — that of dishonouring the dead. The 
 three horsemen therefore continued stationary, 
 their thoughts being entirely diverted from the 
 subjects which had previously employed them, 
 till the funeral party, after traversing the bot- 
 tom of the glen, arrived on the same side of the 
 stream, and stood before them. The bearers 
 had rested the coffin on a little knoll, and 
 were gathering stones with which to rear a 
 cairn, when, putting their horses in motion, 
 Allan and his companions drew towards them.
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 107 
 
 The Parson raised his three-cornered hat, and 
 was about to address a few words of comfort 
 to a grey-headed man, the excess of whose 
 emotion pointed him out as the chief mourner, 
 when the eye of the latter fell suddenly upon 
 Allan, and the form of his visage was changed. 
 
 " Hast thou met me in my very teeth, man 
 of blood !'' cried he. " Is it not enough to 
 kill? Art thou come to insult the living and 
 to triumph over the dead: or has God deli- 
 vered thee into my hand ?" 
 
 He sprang forward as he spoke, and seizing 
 the rein of Allan's horse, strove to back him over 
 a precipice that fell sheer and abrupt many 
 feet from the edge of the road. It was the act 
 of a moment ; yet Allan's presence of mind for- 
 sook him not ; for he threw himself from the 
 saddle, and stood in the middle of the path- 
 way. 
 
 " I might have shot thee, as easily as I 
 have saved myself, old man," said he ; " but 
 there is blood enough of thine on my head
 
 108 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 already. Go to — I never meant to insult thy 
 feelings : but as to him whom ye bear to his 
 grave, though I lament his fate, I take God 
 to witness, that 1 am but the innocent cause of 
 it. What I did was done in self-defence."' 
 
 " It is false, Allan Breck, and thou knowest 
 that it is false : but pass onWards now, for 
 were I to slay thee here, thou wouldst escape 
 long years of misery and crime. Live then 
 to be a disgrace to thy name and thy country — 
 live to be a traitor, dishonoured, and abhorred 
 of thy clan — ^be an outcast from thy native 
 land, and perish among strangers, with the 
 curse of a childless father weighing thee to 
 hell !" 
 
 The old man, as he uttered this maledic- 
 tion, gave up the bridle which he had hitherto 
 held, and made a sign to his party that they 
 should resume the procession. They obeyed 
 him without speaking a word; and though 
 they threw looks of deadly meaning on Allan 
 as they passed, a sense of duty restrained them
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 109 
 
 from offering to him the slightest personal 
 violence. 
 
 All this passed in a shorter space of time 
 than we have spent in narrating it ; conse- 
 quently, neither Parson Neil nor Galium 
 could take other part in the transaction 
 than to interpose themselves between Allan 
 and his irritated opponent. The winding up 
 of the affair, moreover, being as abrupt as 
 the other stages in its progress, the oppor- 
 tunity even of inquiring into its cause was 
 wanting, till the funeral having passed in one 
 direction, and themselves in another, a con- 
 siderable length of road divided them. Then, 
 however, the Parson, though he still laboured 
 under the excitement of feelings strongly agi- 
 tated, demanded an explanation of the scene 
 to which he had just been a witness. 
 
 " Do ye call it a scene ?''"' replied Allan, in 
 a tone of forced gaiety : '' for my own share, 
 I call it a complete farce. The old fellow 
 played his part badly, I allow ; but the farce
 
 110 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 was a good one, notwithstanding the want of 
 talent in the principal performer." 
 
 " Allan," replied the chaplain, sternly, 
 " where the blood of a fellow-creature has 
 been shed, and that by violence, the mind 
 must be depraved indeed that can find scope 
 for irony. I could not have credited any lips 
 except your own, had they dared to assert, 
 that Allan Mac Diarmid was capable, first of 
 killing, and then of laughing at the deed." 
 
 " And who laughs at the deed ?" answered 
 Allan, fiercely. " I told old Duncan that I 
 lamented the mishap, and I tell you the same. 
 But if my life be in danger, am I not at liberty 
 to defend it ?" 
 
 " Unquestionably you are, Allan, provided 
 it be in danger ; but it is not every rash ges- 
 ture, or threatening speech, that may be ho- 
 nestly met by a mortal blow. I heard both 
 your assertion and old Duncan's denial." 
 
 ^' Parson Neil," replied Allan, reining up 
 his pony, and turning with a look of angry
 
 ALLAN BRECK. Ill 
 
 defiance towards his companion, " the time 
 has long gone by since you have had any 
 right to inquire into my proceedings, farther 
 than I might choose to make you acquainted 
 with them. While I was a child, your au- 
 thority might be absolute; but I am not a 
 child now, and I acknowledge no fealty to you, 
 or to any other man living. The youth chose 
 to cross my path needlessly — and what is more, 
 I would have spared him if I could. I struck 
 no mortal blow. If he died by my dirk, he 
 threw himself upon it — I did not drive it into 
 him." 
 
 "God forgive you, Allan!"' rejoined the 
 chaplain. " I have long been aware of your 
 dissolute habits and unworthy proceedings : 
 but not till now have I looked upon you as 
 one defiled, in any degree, with the guilt of 
 homicide. May the old man's curse be scat- 
 tered by the winds ere it reach the throne of 
 Heaven !" 
 
 " Let the old ass curse as he may," ex-
 
 11^ ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 claimed Allan, carelessly. " I value neither 
 his curses nor his blessings. It is a monstrous 
 bore, I admit, that so foul an accident should 
 have happened ; but the fault rests entirely 
 with the slain. But a truce to so dull a sub- 
 ject. I would rather hear, an you will, some 
 account of the great city towards which we are 
 wending — something anent the manners of 
 these Saxons, of whom you all speak so lightly, 
 though you seem to regard them as a class of 
 people every way competent to improve your- 
 selves." 
 
 " Then you must bridle your curiosity, till 
 you find some other means of gratifying it ; 
 for I have no heart to discuss with you any 
 such unimportant topic." 
 
 " Please yourself, good Parson,^' answered 
 Allan, with an air of assumed indifference. 
 " When you regain your good humour, I am 
 at hand to share it. In the mean while, I 
 presume we ride forward independently." 
 
 So saying, he began to hum a Gaelic air,
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 113 
 
 interrupting himself, from time to time, by an 
 appeal to Callum respecting some feats of ac- 
 tivity which the one or the other had per- 
 formed ; nor was it till the greater portion of 
 the day's journey was completed, that the Par- 
 son so far overcame his indignation as to lead 
 to a renewal of the conversation.
 
 114 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 After clearing the pass, within the defiles 
 of which the adventure alluded to in the pre- 
 ceding chapter occurred, our travellers found 
 themselves upon an extensive table-land, which, 
 stretching away to the eastward as far as the 
 eye could reach, presented the appearance of 
 a gloomy and endless tract of brown and 
 barren heath. Not a bush or tree threw 
 its shadow over the desert, except that here 
 and there a clump of aged firs uplifted their 
 giant stems, which time had left as monu- 
 ments of forests long ago mouldered and 
 forgotten. It is true, that the utter desola-
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 115 
 
 tion of the scene was varied^ if not relieved, 
 by the occurrence of numerous lakes, of which, 
 one at least, appeared to be several miles in 
 circumference ; but a tract more perfectly 
 cheerless — a region more thoroughly devoid of 
 all character, beyond that of sheer gloom, be- 
 cause of absolute sterility, we defy the most 
 fertile imagination to conceive. When we 
 add, moreover, that the most depressed point 
 in the panorama measured something about 
 two thousand feet above the level of the sea, 
 we shall have probably said enough to give 
 our readers a tolerably clear insight into the 
 nature of portions, at least, of the scenery 
 peculiar to the Western Highlands. 
 
 The drizzlino: showers which attended them 
 during the earlier part of their journey began, 
 as they approached the head of the glen, to 
 settle into decided rain, and ere they had tra- 
 versed half the moor, the clouds were empty- 
 ing themselves in torrents, which a furious 
 wind from the south and west, drove directly
 
 116 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 into their faces. Against such weather, at 
 such a degree of altitude, neither cloak nor 
 plaid affords the slightest shelter ; and hence 
 before they had accomplished half their jour- 
 ney, the wayfarers were thoroughly saturated. 
 Their horses, moreover, kept with difficulty to 
 the blast, made way but slowly, and evening 
 was closing in ere they reached the inn, or 
 rather hovel, where it was requisite that they 
 should bait. Yet it seemed as if the incon- 
 veniences to which they were equally subject, 
 served to smooth away the acerbities of tem- 
 per under which they had hitherto laboured ; 
 for in exact proportion to the growing violence 
 of the storm, the good humour of the Parson 
 returned. We are not prepared to say that 
 reason and reflection had not their share in 
 bringing this about. Parson Neil was pos- 
 sessed of an understanding too clear not to be 
 aware, that if you desire to reclaim any one, 
 more especially a youth, from the errors 
 which he may have committed, you must not
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 117 
 
 begin by teaching him to believe that his case 
 is desperate ; and hence, in all probability, not 
 less than in obedience to that law of nature 
 which renders partners in affliction tolerant the 
 one of the other, he gradually relaxed from 
 his severity. Of his own accord, he adverted 
 to the topic to which Allan some time pre- 
 viously would have drawn him, and long ere 
 the day's dreary journey came to a close, he 
 had recited many a tale descriptive of the Scot- 
 tish capital, and of the kind of society to which 
 his pupil was about to be introduced. 
 
 It is unnecessary to follow in detail the par- 
 ticulars of an excursion which was not marked 
 by the occurrence of any extraordinary adven- 
 ture. Let it suffice to state, that the storm of 
 wind and rain gradually abated as night drew 
 on ; that the travellers rose with fresh spirits 
 to resume their journey, when the dawn of the 
 following day came in beautifully bright, and 
 that noon found them wending their way cheer- 
 ily along the margin of a fresh-water loch, that
 
 118 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 lay like a mirror amid a circle of green hills, 
 over the sides and brows of which numerous 
 flocks were grazing. Then came a dark and 
 rugged defile, totally different indeed from their 
 own wild glen, but still exceedingly striking ; 
 where the narrow road wound along the edge 
 of a ravine, at the gorge of which the lake 
 emptied itself by a rapid river, and a skreen 
 of thick foliage, vi^hile it sheltered them from 
 the burning rays of the sun, confined all power 
 of vision within the stretch of a very narrow 
 compass. It was the last specimen of Alpine 
 grandeur which they were destined to behold, 
 at least for the present ; for on clearing that 
 pass there burst upon them a scene, on which 
 Allan could not but pause to look with feel- 
 ings wholly inexplicable. 
 
 Born in a region where the word plain is 
 scarcely understood, and the term valley means 
 nothing more than a glen or hollow, oversha- 
 dowed by mountains, the astonishment of Allan 
 when, on turning an angle in the road, he beheld
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 119 
 
 spread out before him an extent of cultivated 
 fields, which appeared to have no other boun- 
 dary than the horizon, deprived him of the 
 faculty of speech. Immediately beneath him 
 lay a village or small town, sheltered from the 
 north and west by ridges of rocks, and washed, 
 as it were, by the waters of a lovely stream, 
 that flowed with a quiet current along its 
 edge. Beyond, again, were corn-fields and 
 meadows, groves and hedge-rows, with here 
 and there a hamlet, farm-house, or gentleman's 
 seat ; while from the very centre of this mighty 
 flat rose sheer and perpendicular, the towers 
 and battlements of an ancient fortress. Allan 
 gazed long and silently upon the scene, so 
 diff'erent in all its features from any to which 
 he had hitherto been accustomed, and then, 
 turning to his companion, demanded, rather 
 by looks than words, some explanation of what 
 he could not but regard as an absolute pheno- 
 menon in nature. 
 
 " There, Allan, lies the Low Country," said
 
 120 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 his tutor with a smile, " the fertile fields which 
 our forefathers once owned, till, as our bards 
 tell us, the Saxons came, and drove them back 
 to contend for freedom, amid the mountain-fast- 
 nesses. That pile on which you are gazing 
 is the castle of Stirling, the place that we 
 must reach before the sun goes down ; and 
 therefore, so soon as you have satisfied your 
 curiosity, it may be well if we push forward."" 
 
 Allan made no answer, for his thoughts were 
 still too much abroad to admit of his carrying 
 on a common conversation, so they pressed 
 their horses to a trot, and entered the last vil- 
 lage that lies within what is called the High- 
 land line, just as the church clock was striking 
 two. 
 
 Having halted a couple of hours to refresh, 
 the travellers were again in the saddles and 
 pursuing their journey with an easy pace. A 
 delightful ride of five Scotch miles along the 
 banks of the silver Teath, carried them to a 
 stone bridge of three arches; about a long
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 121 
 
 gun-shot from which stood the ruins of a ba- 
 ronial fortalice, the residence, in former times, 
 of the Regent Murray. This they crossed, after 
 which their route lay first through the heart of 
 an extensive moor, and then amid fields rich with 
 waving corn, while more directly in their front 
 up rose the battlements of Stirling Castle, 
 crowning as with a coronet of masonry, the sum^ 
 mit of the bold and rocky eminence along the 
 eastern face of which the ancient town is built. 
 Insensibly, Allan quickened his pace, a move- 
 ment which is companion exhibited, for a while, 
 no disposition to restrain ; but as they neared 
 the base of the hill, the latter suddenly reined 
 in his pony, and motioning to Allan to follow 
 his example, gazed with an earnest, and as 
 it appeared, an anxious eye towards the for- 
 tress. 
 
 " We are no longer in the Highlands, 
 Allan," said he, " and there are many good 
 reasons why we should use a little more cau- 
 tion than we have hitherto done. It were an 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 22 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 awkward conclusion to our travels were we to 
 get immured within these old walls. Neither 
 the son of Norman Mac Diarmid nor Neil 
 Macpherson are likely to meet with much 
 kindness at the hands of the Whigs ; so pull 
 up, if you please, till we ascertain how far the 
 coast is clear." 
 
 " I was not aware that we ran the smallest 
 risk of annoyance,'' replied Allan, " nor can I 
 comprehend even now from what quarter dan- 
 ger should arise. I am absolutely unknown 
 at Stirling, and so, I presume, are you."** 
 
 *' Perhaps I may, and perhaps I may not,'' re- 
 joined the Parson, " but in either case, common 
 prudence requires that I should not heedlessly 
 run you or myself, or any other individual con- 
 nected with Norman Mac Diarmid, into the 
 power of the Elector of Hanover's red-coats. 
 Your father was no favourite with the Whigs, 
 and the Whigs, they say, are apt to visit the 
 sins of the fathers upon the children to many 
 generations. But here comes one who will tell 
 us how the land lies."
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 123 
 
 As he uttered these words, Allan looked 
 up, and beheld a man descending leisurely by a 
 steep road or pass, which skirting the base of 
 the rock on which the castle stood, led down- 
 wards into the plain. The stranger, who was 
 dressed in the ordinary costume of the period, 
 had the air of a respectable tradesman of the 
 better sort, — he might be a member of the town 
 council, or even a bailie, — for his snufF-colour- 
 ed coat was clean, and his ruffles and frill could 
 not have been worn many days. There was 
 nothing, however, as far as Allan could per- 
 ceive, by which to tell him at a yard's distance 
 from any other burgher, unless indeed the cir- 
 cumstance that he wore a small white rose in his 
 bosom could be construed into a mark of pe- 
 culiarity ; yet he seemed to bear about him 
 some masonic emblem, of which the full force 
 was immediately acknowledged. A sign of re- 
 cognition passed between the Parson and him, 
 while yet they were a couple of bow-shot apart, 
 and as both parties quickened their pace im- 
 G 2
 
 124 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 mediately on the signal being answered, the 
 lapse of a few seconds brought them together. 
 
 " We have entirely failed," said the stranger 
 in a half whisper, " and the enemy are now 
 doubly on the alert. Every thing went on 
 well to the last, but just as the plot was ripe 
 for explosion, some miscreant betrayed it, and 
 the governor has ever since kept such a look 
 out, that a mouse cannot stir without being 
 observed." 
 
 *' You were extremely rash," replied the 
 Parson, " and to say the least of it, altogether 
 premature. The time had not yet come for 
 action, and now all must be done over again, 
 under the manifest disadvantage of suspicions 
 excited and vigilance called into play. I sups* 
 pose that strangers from the hills are examined, 
 and that it is scarcely safe for us to rest here 
 even till to-morrow ?"" 
 
 *' It would have been well had you spent 
 the night nearer the line, so as to pass this hot- 
 bed of whiggery without halting ; but we are
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 125 
 
 not yet entirely awake. Keep clear of the main 
 streets, — content yourselves with such accom- 
 modation as you can find outside the port ; and 
 if you take the road again betimes in the morn- 
 ing, so much the better. You know the town 
 as well as I, so pass round, and take care 
 liow you bring yourselves unnecessarily into 
 notice." 
 
 The stranger passed on as he concluded this 
 speech, while the Parson, instead of advancing 
 by the track immediately before him, turned 
 abruptly to the left, and beckoned to Allan 
 and his attendant to follow. They obeyed 
 without asking any questions, and found them- 
 selves traversing a rough road, which wound 
 under the base of the hill, till it brought them 
 suddenly to a point where the Forth was spanned 
 by an antique bridge. The town now lay before 
 them, rising street above street, as each occupied 
 a portion of the eminence more lofty than 
 another ; while a battery of heavy cannon 
 looked down from the castle, so as to command
 
 126 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 entirely this the only approach from the north. 
 But to avoid the town, not to find out the most 
 convenient means of access, seemed to be the 
 Parson's purpose. He still held to the left, 
 skirting the suburbs, till he had completed 
 more than a half circle round the place, 
 and at last halted beside a house of public en- 
 tertainment just beyond a port, or gateway, 
 which cut off the liberties of the borough 
 towards the south. 
 
 The house in question was evidently of that 
 order which drovers, carriers, and persons 
 engaged in the meaner kinds of trade are in 
 the habit of frequenting. A row of carts, laden 
 with bales, stood in front of an arched passage, 
 beyond which, in all probability, lay the sta- 
 bles ; while a sign that swung above the low 
 door, represented, or was meant to represent, 
 a Highlander and Lowlander in the act of 
 shaking hands with extraordinary good-will. 
 Beneath this curious piece of art, ran, on one 
 side, a legend, which told that ''Jean Mac
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 127 
 
 Raby dealt in porter, ale, and British spirits ;" 
 while the reverse gave assurance that there was 
 to be found within " good accommodation for 
 man and beast." Such was the kind of hotel 
 before which the Parson pulled up, with the 
 expression in his countenance of one who feels 
 that he is secure of a cordial welcome ; and his 
 example being followed by Allan and Galium, 
 the tired steeds were relieved of their loads, 
 which they had by this time borne much 
 longer than could be agreeable either to them 
 or their riders. 
 
 The clattering of horses' hoofs, followed, as 
 in the present instance it was, by the applica- 
 tion of Parson NeiFs riding-whip to the open 
 door, soon attracted the attention of the careful 
 landlady, whose shrill voice was heard calling 
 loudly upon her helpmate, and combining, in 
 happy union, the accents of reproof with those 
 of exhortation. 
 
 " AV^here are ye, Sandy ? — what are ye do- 
 ing there ? — dinna ye hear folk knocking on
 
 128 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 ye ? Deil be in me if ever I kent sic a lazy 
 sumph ! Rin, man, rin ! like a gude chield, 
 and lead the horses yont to the stable ! I '11 
 see to the gentlemen myser."" 
 
 As the last sentence was uttered, the portly 
 figure of a female emerged from the lobby, 
 closely followed in the rear by that of a man, 
 lean, sallow, sharp-featured, and apparently 
 about forty years of age, with an eye that 
 twinkled with sly humour and impertinent 
 curiosity. The latter took the bridles which 
 were thrown to him by Galium, not without a 
 leer of peculiar import, which became more 
 and more marked as he surveyed both the 
 ponies and their furniture, from muzzle to 
 haunch, and from shoulder to fetlock. But a 
 greater than he being present to ask questions 
 for herself, Sandy probably anticipated that 
 any interference on his part would lead only to 
 rebuke ; he therefore led off his charge in 
 silence, while the female proceeded at once to 
 recommend her own accommodations, and to
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 129 
 
 throw out such feelers as might lead to some- 
 thing like a ground of conjecture touching the 
 quality and business of her guests. 
 
 " Yell hae ridden far the day, gentlemen, 
 and ye 11 want some supper afore ye gang till 
 your beds — for beds yell want, nae doubt. 
 And, though I say it mysel, ye couldna hae 
 pitten up at ony public in a' the town where 
 better beds are to be had. Yell be frae the 
 hills, Ise warrant ; frae the Westland country, 
 may be — or aboon Callender, ony how ?'' 
 
 '^ We have ridden some distance,'' replied 
 the Parson, as he and Allan followed the mis- 
 tress into a small, sanded apartment, " and are 
 not in a humour to find fault with any such 
 food as you may be able to furnish. Of beds, 
 too, we stand something in need ; and I know 
 that they are always excellent here. But how 
 is the mistress .^" 
 
 " The mistress is weel, muckle obliged to 
 ye for the inquiry. But wha may ye be that 
 speer so kindly after her .'*" 
 G 5
 
 130 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 " Oh, she and I are very old acquaintances. 
 I have known her these twenty years, and 
 shall be happy to shake hands with her again 
 for ' auld lang syne."* " 
 
 " Trouth, an' I doubt that, friend ! At 
 least, I 'm sure the mistress has nae recollec- 
 tion o' you, whatever you may hae o' her. 
 But she's no"* the less wulling to mak you 
 comfortable." 
 
 " I dare say. we shall recognise one another 
 when we meet ; but in the mean while we shall 
 be very glad to see the supper of which you 
 spoke/' 
 
 " 'Od, I'm no' thinking ye '11 meet muckle 
 mair than ye hae met already. Gin ye hae 
 ony particular business wi' the mistress, ye 
 may as weel tell it to me, for I am a' that 
 ye '11 get for ane in the Salutation." 
 
 " Are you mistress of the Salutation .?" 
 asked the Parson, a little embarrassed. 
 
 " 'Deed am I ! for want o' a better." 
 
 " And where is honest Mrs. Mac Raby ; 
 she that kept the house twelve years ago .?"
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 131 
 
 ''Honest! ca' ye her? It was a vera 
 honest trick, nae doubt, to hae meetings of 
 Papists, and Prelatists, and Jacobites, night 
 after night, in this vera chaumer, plotting and 
 contriving to take possession o' the castle and 
 put King George aff his throne. But the silly 
 fules couldna keep their ain counsel. Honest 
 Jean Mac Raby's safe enough noo; and the 
 concern 's fallen into better hands, praise be 
 blessed ! But what wad your honour like to 
 hae for supper ? We 've a' thing in the 
 house; baith ait cakes and wheaten bread, 
 and fools, and sa't herring, forby rizzered had- 
 docks, and flesh meat o' every description."" 
 
 " Whatever can be first got ready, good 
 dame. A couple of fowls will serve our pur- 
 pose extremely well. But how comes the 
 name of Jean ]\Iac Raby still upon your 
 sign.?" 
 
 " Oo 'deed, I couldna be fashed to tak it 
 doon ; and mair na that, my ain name 's 
 ]Mac Raby too ; though Sanders, auld Jean's 
 nevoy by the father's side, sud hae the
 
 132 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 honour doubtless. But we just couldna be 
 fashed making ony changes/"* 
 
 " Well, well ! you will send in our supper 
 as soon as you can; and in the mean while 
 tell your hostler to look well after the horses. 
 We must be on foot again early in the 
 morning." 
 
 "^ We'll see about that,"' muttered the 
 hostess to herself, as she closed the door be- 
 hind her. " Ye may be honest folk for 
 aught I ken to the contrair ; but gin ye kent 
 Jean Mac Raby sae weel, there is some cause to 
 doubt it. Hoosomever, yese get your supper, 
 and pay for't too." 
 
 While the landlady was thus exerting her 
 inquisitorial talents upon the masters, her help- 
 mate, Sanders, was equally zealous in fishing for 
 information from Galium ; who, like a prudent 
 groom, chose to see his cattle fed and tended, 
 ere he quitted the stable. 
 
 " Ye '11 hae lived wi' thae gentlemen since 
 ye were a callant noo,'' quoth Sanders, *' and
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 133 
 
 I dar say find it a vera gude place. High- 
 land gentlemen are kind to their servants at a' 
 times.'' 
 
 " Sae they till me,'' replied Galium, «' but 
 we 're no frae the Highlands." 
 
 " They 're unco like Highland beas ye ride, 
 ony how ; and yere tongue's no' this gait awa." 
 
 " Oo ay, the beas are frae MaccuUamore's 
 country — he's vera grit with my maister, and 
 sends him horses and knout in a present, noo 
 and than." 
 
 " And ye '11 be for the south kintra, Ise 
 warrant." 
 
 '' Tweel are we ; we're gawn to Edinborough 
 to attend the college — he's coming out a mi- 
 nister yon ane." 
 
 The conversation had proceeded thus far, 
 when tlie voice of Sanders' better half was 
 heard, requiring, in no subdued tone, an 
 interview with her helpmate. Sanders left 
 his charge in a trice, and running to the stable 
 door, gave his undivided attention to the com-
 
 134 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 mands of one who was seldom disobeyed. Of 
 what nature these might be, Galium, though 
 he listened closely, was unable fully to ascer- 
 tain. He overheard, indeed, such expressions 
 as the following — " No vera canny "-^" dinna 
 like the glower o' them""* — " the Provost behoved 
 to ken*" — " sae strict a proclamation ;" — but 
 both parties spoke low, and Callum'*s vigi- 
 lance afforded him no insight into the purport of 
 the discourse. At last, however, the consulta- 
 tion drew to a close, the dame bestowing, as it 
 appeared, a parting charge upon her submissive 
 spouse. " Ye '11 tak your time about it, San- 
 ders. Yell no stir till they get their supper ; 
 for be they what they may, if s nae use keeping 
 a public, if we dinna serve our customers and 
 get paid for it."
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 135 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 A CAREFUL observer might have traced in the 
 working of Parson Neil's countenance, a slight 
 expression of anxiety, as soon as the closed 
 door left him at liberty to indulge his own 
 thoughts free from the intrusive impertinence 
 of the landlady. He gazed round the little 
 room with the eye of one to whom external 
 objects are familiar, but who misses something 
 which he has been accustomed to see, and the 
 absence of which gives pain. Nevertheless he 
 said nothing, but rising from his chair, pro- 
 ceeded to the window. It commanded a view 
 of the street — a wide but inelegant road, hero-
 
 136 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 med in on either hand by low mean houses, 
 and terminated at one end by an antique em- 
 battled gateway, in front of which a town''s 
 officer, or member of the burgher guard, paced 
 backwards and forwards, formidable alike from 
 the cock of his three-cornered hat, and the 
 enormous lochaber axe that graced his shoulder. 
 But that which chiefly attracted the Parson's 
 attention, was the gaunt figure of Sanders, 
 who, emerging from beneath the archway of 
 the inn, made a sign with his hand, as if 
 to acknowledge some final instructions, and 
 walked leisurely towards the port. 
 
 A strong suspicion that all was not right, 
 flashed across the mind of Parson Neil. He 
 turned round, and was about to express his 
 apprehensions to his companion, when the 
 door opened, and Mrs. Mac Raby, bearing in 
 her hands the ordinary preliminaries to a sub- 
 stantial repast, entered. 
 
 " The fools are a' sitten," said she, '' barin 
 the auld cock, and he's out at his travels ; so
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 137 
 
 I cookit ye up some nice hot minched collups, 
 that might supper a lord." 
 
 As she said this, she spread a remarkably 
 clean cloth upon the table, over which were 
 speedily arranged an " ashet" of minced meat, 
 well seasoned with pepper and salt — as well as 
 plates, horn-handled knives and forks, bread, 
 cheese, butter, and other viands. To these, 
 permission being first of all sought and ob- 
 tained, she took care to add a measure of 
 excellent brandy, with a magnum bottle of 
 claret ; after which, wishing them " a gude 
 appetite," she again withdrew. 
 
 " So far so good," said Allan, drawing his 
 seat cheerfully towards the well-filled board. 
 " We might go farther and fare worse, Parson ; 
 what say ye .^" 
 
 " Only this, that I would give more than 
 the worth of my best gown and cassock, that 
 we were some miles farther, no matter how we 
 fared."" 
 
 " Why, what is it that ails you ? — you are
 
 138 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 not the same man since you began to breathe 
 the air of the Lowlands. For my part, I think 
 the new Lucky Mac Raby plays the part of 
 hostess to admiration, though, to be sure, I 
 had not the pleasure of knowing her prede- 
 cessor." 
 
 " A truce to your raillery, Allan," said his 
 companion gravely, " and attend to what a 
 stern necessity alone compels me to communi- 
 cate. Had you been different from what you 
 are, it would not have devolved upon me, in 
 this place, and at this hour, to tell you, that, 
 during some months back, affairs involving the 
 most important results have been under dis- 
 cussion throughout Scotland. The son of your 
 father ought to have taken in these discussions 
 a leading part, but for that you chose to unfit 
 yourself, and now you must learn, for the first 
 time, that the old game will shortly be played 
 over again, though upon far more equal terms. 
 In the mean while, however, certain friends to 
 the cause, more zealous than discreet, have, it 
 appears, thrown aside the mask too soon, and
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 139 
 
 the suspicions of the Government are in con- 
 sequence awakened. Now, though you are 
 perfectly innocent of all designs against the 
 Elector (your father could not say as much 
 at your age), your very name will condemn 
 you ; and I, God knows what they will not do 
 to me, provided they can once lay their clutches 
 on me. Yet, unless I greatly deceive myself, 
 there is an even chance that this same fate will 
 befall us both ere the night set in. You 
 observed what our amiable hostess said con- 
 cerning her predecessor?" 
 
 " To be sure I did : and what then .'^" 
 " Simply this. The Lucky Mac Raby whom 
 I had hoped to find here, was a firm friend 
 to the cause ; her house was well known to all 
 the Jacobite gentlemen both of the Highlands 
 and the Low Country, and many a meet- 
 ing has been held to concert measures in this 
 very room. She has been betrayed, it seems, 
 and the secrets of the prison-house revealed, of 
 course. Do you guess the result .'*'*' 
 '' Not I, for the life of me!"
 
 140 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 " Unfortunately, I claimed acquaintance 
 with her ; my doing so was evidently not lost 
 upon her hopeful niece ; and in a word, Allan, 
 I enjoy the satisfaction at this moment of 
 anticipating the speedy arrival of a magis- 
 trate's warrant to arrest us both." 
 
 " Then it is well," replied Allan, coolly, 
 " that, though the tartans have been laid 
 aside, the pistols and rapier are forthcoming. 
 Let no rascally officer show his nose within 
 that door if he value his skin." 
 
 " It was exactly my anticipation of this," 
 rejoined the Parson, " that induced me so far 
 to trust you. You would resist where resist- 
 ance were perfectly useless ; for what could we 
 do ? Kill a wretched emissary perhaps, and 
 be taken after all. No, no, Allan ! We are 
 in a scrape, it is true, bad enough of itself, 
 but which the shedding of blood would only 
 render a thousand times worse. We must 
 trust to prudence, not to force, for getting 
 out of it again. I must entreat of you, there-
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 141 
 
 fore, to give me your weapons, lest in the 
 hurry of the moment you should be tempted 
 to use them." 
 
 Allan expressed himself exceedingly unwill- 
 ing to come into this arrangement. He would 
 pledge his word that no bad use should be 
 made of them ; he would even submit to be 
 arrested, provided violence were not offered 
 to his person ; but to deprive himself of the 
 means of repelling that was what he could not 
 stomach. The Parson was, however, firm, and 
 Allan, obstinate as he might have been with 
 any other individual, reluctantly gave way. 
 His pistols and sword were in consequence 
 handed over to his more peaceable companion, 
 who laid them carefully aside in a closet ; after 
 which the two friends addressed themselves, 
 though with a zest somewhat diminished, to 
 their supper. 
 
 The meal passed over in quiet, and of the 
 claret a considerable portion was consumed, 
 without the occurrence of any incident cal-
 
 142 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 culated to confirm their suspicions. Twilight, 
 indeed, had set in, and Allan, elevated in 
 some degree by liberal potations, was begin- 
 ing to rally his companion on his fears, when 
 a sudden rush of footsteps, and a hum of 
 voices in the street, drew his attention to the 
 window. He looked out, and beheld, to his 
 dismay, a crowd of persons assembled beside 
 the inn door, conspicuous among whom was 
 a detachment of soldiers. The latter, under 
 the guidance of a personage whose dress and 
 demeanour sufficiently marked the sheriff's 
 officer, halted beside the gateway, where a 
 couple of sentinels posted themselves; while 
 the remainder penetrating beneath the arch, 
 were immediately lost to his view. But Allan 
 was not left many minutes in suspense as to 
 the probable design of these preparations. 
 The passage outside the little parlour where 
 they were seated rang to the heavy tread of 
 armed men ; and the thump of musket-buts 
 upon the floor was distinctly audible. Imme-
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 143 
 
 diately the door flew open, and the oflicer, 
 closely followed by Sanders and his spouse, 
 and supported by four grenadiers with fixed 
 bayonets, stood before them. 
 
 " That's them, Maister Gruppit," quoth the 
 landlady, holding a lighted candle aloft : 
 " that 's the men ye want. 1 11 no' say that 
 they are no' honest gentlemen, though they 
 did speer after my good anty ; but the 
 Provost's wull is to be obeyed. And I 
 houp the supper and wine they hae had, as 
 weel as the corn for their horses, will be paid 
 for, somehow or other." 
 
 The officer now advanced, and explained 
 to the parties that he was the bearer of a 
 warrant, which required that they would in- 
 stantly appear before the Frovost in order to 
 give an account of themselves. Had the pre- 
 caution not been taken of removing from the 
 younger of the two all means of resisting this 
 order, it is probable that blood v.ould have 
 been shed in the attempt to carry it into force ;
 
 144 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 but the consciousness that he was unarmed 
 kept Allan quiet, while the Parson readilj, and 
 without the semblance of hesitation, expressed 
 himself willing to follow his conductors. They 
 were accordingly led forth — not manacled, for 
 their behaviour was perfectly peaceable, but 
 closely guarded — and marched, amid a gaping 
 and wondering throng, towards the dwelling 
 of the chief magistrate. 
 
 Daylight had by this time completely disap- 
 peared, at least as much so as during the sum- 
 mer months it ever does in a latitude so far 
 north as that of Stirling. Though conscious, 
 therefore, that they were conducted beneath 
 the arched porch or gateway, and along a 
 steep and winding street of very irregular 
 construction, the prisoners could judge little 
 of the course which they took, till they sud- 
 denly stopped short at the door of a mean- 
 looking house, about half way up the face 
 of the acclivity. For a moment or two, 
 they were left here in charge of the guard 
 — the mob becoming every instant more
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 145 
 
 dense as well as more speculative — while the 
 Messenger (for so the sheriff's officer is called) 
 went in to ascertain the wishes of the worship- 
 ful Provost. But the delay was not of a very 
 distressing duration. The Messenger soon re- 
 turned; and the prisoners being ordered to 
 follow him, they, with a portion of their mili- 
 tary attendants, entered the domicile. 
 
 A solitary rushlight (one of sixteen to a 
 pound) standing upon a counter, made our 
 adventurers imperfectly aware that they passed 
 through a shop, from the roof of w^hich hung 
 numerous parcels of candles, as the sides were 
 fitted up with boxes, probably charged with 
 contents equally lucid. Beyond this was a 
 small closet or back shop, measuring, per- 
 haps, ten feet in length by six in width, and 
 communicating with the outer shop mainly by 
 a door, but not less efficiently by means of a 
 window, composed of a single pane of glass. 
 There sat the Provost — Provost Dalgleish — a 
 man of strong Whig principles and extra- 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 146 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 ordinary self-importance; small, indeed, of 
 stature and empty of understanding, but not 
 the less valuable in his own eyes. This emi- 
 nent specimen of civic wisdom occupied a huge 
 arm-chair, withdrawn, as beseemed his import- 
 ance, a considerable space from the contamina- 
 tion of touch ; while close to the table sat the 
 Town-clerk, Mr. Ebenezer Littlejohn, having 
 writing materials spread in great abundance 
 before him. 
 
 A brief pause followed the introduction of 
 the prisoners, during which the magistrate 
 and they surveyed one another with looks 
 expressive, on the one part, of consequential 
 curiosity ; on the other, of something like sur- 
 prise, if not contempt. At length the Provost 
 began his inquiries into the nature of their bu- 
 siness in Stirling, the points from whence they 
 came, and whither they were going — as well 
 as touching their names, qualities, occupations, 
 and designs in riding the country thus mys- 
 teriously during a season of more than com-
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 147 
 
 mon anxiety. To the first of these questions 
 a direct and explicit answer was given. They 
 were merely birds of passage, halting for the 
 night to refresh their horses, and intending 
 to pursue their journey in the morning ; but 
 with respect to the others, somewhat more 
 of caution was observed. They did not deny 
 that they were from the hills ; indeed, they 
 avowed that they were natives of Argyleshire, 
 and that they were proceeding to the capital, 
 for the purpose of completing the education of 
 the young gentleman, to whom the elder act- 
 ed in capacity of tutor. Then again, as to 
 any mystery, or attempt at mystery, that was 
 absolutely derided ; while the intelligence that 
 the present times were pregnant with sources 
 of uneasiness was received with well-feigned 
 astonishment. 
 
 " And now, sir," continued the Parson, for 
 
 he, as may be imagined, was the spokesman, 
 
 *' permit me in my turn to ask, why two of the 
 
 King'*s subjects should thus be brought before 
 
 H 2
 
 148 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 you as prisoners, without the slightest ground 
 of accusation, or even of reasonable suspicion 
 against them ?" 
 
 The Provost and Town-clerk stared at one 
 another, as if thrown aback by so blunt a 
 question ; and the former, who was evidently, 
 like all mean men in authority, not less cow- 
 ardly than insolent, changed colour, while his 
 eye fell under the stern gaze of his prisoners. 
 The official, however, who appeared somewhat 
 under the influence of strong drink, exhibited 
 no disposition to abate one jot of his dignity. 
 
 " The King''s proclamation bears ye oot, 
 Provost Dalgleish ; ye are fully justified in 
 sending them baith to the Tolbooth ; for be- 
 yond a' doubt they 're strangers here, and Deil 
 be in me gin I ken their names yet." 
 
 " Oo ay, gentlemen, your names, your 
 names," quoth the Provost ; " ye haenna gien 
 us yere names : what do they ca' ye .^" 
 
 " We have no cause to be ashamed of our 
 names,'*" replied the Parson, " nor can we ex-
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 149 
 
 perience the slightest reluctance to communi- 
 cate them ; but we wish first of all to be made 
 acquainted with the nature of the charge under 
 which we have been thus unceremoniously 
 dealt with." 
 
 *' Ye've naething to do wi' that, Provost," 
 interposed the man of law ; " ye're absolute 
 monarch here ony how ; and being required 
 on information lodged to tak up el suspicious 
 y characters, ye Ve no' bound to explain to them 
 why ye do so. Let them gie an account o"" 
 themselves." 
 
 " Go ay," cried the Provost, " gie an ac- 
 count o' yourselves. It's for that ye'*re brought 
 here, according to the King's proclamation." 
 
 " I have told you already, sir," replied the 
 Parson, " that we are gentlemen from Argyle- 
 shire, proceeding on our lawful business to 
 Edinburgh. You are perfectly welcome to 
 examine our baggage and papers, and if you 
 find anything there capable of exciting a 
 shadow of suspicion against us, your own sense
 
 150 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 of duty will tell you how it becomes you to 
 act." 
 
 " Where's Sanders Mac Raby ?" ejaculated 
 the Writer : " what was't ye telt me when ye 
 got the warrant ?" 
 
 " They speer'd unco friendly for my aunty,'' 
 said Sanders, '' and my wife thought that ye 
 boot to ken that sic folk were in her house." 
 
 " Noo then, sir," exclaimed the Writer, 
 looking as wise as men in a state of more than 
 half intoxication generally do, " what say ye 
 to that? Ask them hoo they cam to speer 
 after that auld Jacobite limmer; Provost, 
 ask them that f" 
 
 '' Oo ay," said the Provost, " what kent ye 
 aboot auld Lucky Mac Raby, — what kent ye 
 aboot her ?" 
 
 " Nothing more than men generally do 
 about the keepers of taverns, which in the 
 course of their travels they may chance to fre- 
 quent," replied Parson Neil. " I (for this 
 young gentleman was never in Stirling till to-
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 151 
 
 day) have passed through this town before, and 
 it so happens that I put up, twelve years ago, 
 at the sign of the Salutation. Is there any- 
 thing extraordinary in that ?" 
 
 " But your servant says ye 're no' fra the 
 Highlands," interposed Sanders. 
 
 " Oo ay," interposed the Provost, " what 
 say ye to that ? Your servant denies that ye 
 come fra the Highlands." 
 
 " If my servant perceives that impertinent 
 questions are put to him," said Allan, " he 
 does quite right in refusing to gratify the 
 curiosity of the inquirer, — I confess that this 
 is always my way, and I cannot blame another 
 if he adopt it." 
 
 " YeVe a spunky chield noo," answered Mr. 
 Littlejohn, looking lazily over his spectacles, 
 " but yeVe no' just in the situation to gie vent 
 to your humour. Provost, ye had better send 
 for their wallees ; may be we'll find there what 
 they dinna seem willing to gie us by word o' 
 mooth."
 
 152 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 " Oo ay/"* answered the Provost, " g^^g yer 
 way doon for the wallees, Gruppit, gang yer 
 way doon for the wallees." 
 
 The examination had proceeded thus far 
 when there occurred a slight bustle in the 
 outer shop, which was immediately succeeded 
 by the entrance into the sanctum sanctorum 
 of the same individual by whom the travellers 
 had been met at the outskirts of the town. He 
 was received with every mark of respect by the 
 Provost and his clerk, both of whom rose to 
 bid him welcome, and both of whom accepted 
 the abrupt mark of recognition with which he 
 greeted them as inferiors are accustomed to 
 accept the condescending attention of their 
 superiors. He sat down, however, without 
 scruple, and looking sternly towards Allan and 
 his fellow prisoner, said a few words, expres- 
 sive not of curiosity, but of an apparent 
 conviction that two dangerous characters stood 
 before him. 
 
 " Have we got spies or traitors here again,
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 158 
 
 Provost ?" said he. " Your vigilance deserves 
 the utmost approbation of the Government, 
 and shall not pass unnoticed." 
 
 " One or the other, Drumtochtie," replied 
 the writer, " that ye may depend on ; for they 
 are auld acquaintances of Lucky Mac Raby, 
 and ye ken as well as I do, that little good 
 comes of the acquaintances o' sic as her." 
 
 " You have examined them of course, or are 
 in the act of doing so ?'"* observed the stranger: 
 " has their baggage been searched ? — or rather, 
 perhaps, I ought to have inquired whether any 
 definite charge has been lodged against them ? 
 These are troublesome times in which we live ; 
 nor is it the least vexatious feature in the case, 
 that we magistrates are compelled to do con- 
 tinual violence to our own feelings, by treating 
 as suspicious characters many who are as re- 
 spectable as ourselves. But I make no doubt 
 that you have good ground to go upon at 
 present, — something more than the late pro- 
 clamation, which certainly does not autho- 
 H 5
 
 154 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 rize an arrest, unless on information formally 
 laid." 
 
 " We hae our information, Drumtochtie, of 
 coorse," replied the Town-clerk. " Alexander 
 Mac Raby maks oath and saith — "" 
 
 " Na, na, Maister Littlejohn," interrupted 
 Sanders, " dinna pit mair on my back than it 
 can carry. I telt ye by word of mooth, but 
 made nae oath on't, that there was some 
 unchancy-like folk at our public, and then 
 ye ken " 
 
 " Haud your tongue, ye clavering goose," 
 interrupted the Writer ; " if ye didna just 
 swear tilt, ye did as muckle, for ye declared 
 that ye was ready to swear." 
 
 " Is there no complaint nor information upon 
 oath?" asked the stranger. 
 
 " Troth, I kenna whether there be or no," 
 replied the Provost, " but Maister Littlejohn 
 said that a' was right, and I believed him." 
 
 " Upon my word, gentlemen," observed the 
 stranger in a sort of whisper, which was, how- 
 ever, quite audible where the prisoners stood,
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 155 
 
 ** you have somewhat overstepped the limits of 
 your authority ; I hope you may have sufficient 
 grounds for what is done. Have you ascertain- 
 ed whence the prisoners come, whither they are 
 going, and what their business may be in 
 Stirling ?" 
 
 It is not necessary to continue the details of 
 this civic examination. Enough is done when 
 we state, that the interference of the stranger 
 gave a totally novel turn to the whole affair ; 
 that the baggage of the travellers was examin- 
 ed, that nothing suspicious was found there, 
 and that the Provost and Town-clerk were alike 
 compelled to acknowledge, that no ground for 
 committal, or even for demanding bail, had 
 been made out. The consequence was, that 
 the prisoners were dismissed, greatly to the 
 disappointment of the mob, and, as it appeared, 
 not much to the satisfaction of Master Little- 
 john; who continued to asseverate that he 
 " never kent any thing gude about the fre- 
 quenters o' auld Lucky Mac Raby's public 
 ayont the port." But that which more than
 
 156 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 all the rest of the proceedings struck Allan 
 with surprise, was the behaviour of the gentle- 
 man^ to whose address they were so much in- 
 debted. Though he had spoken familiarly to 
 Parson Neil only two short hours before, he 
 now treated him as an absolute stranger, and 
 withdrew from the Provost's room, as soon as 
 the examination came to an end, without so 
 much as exchanging with him a sign of recog- 
 nition. Nevertheless, a new light had burst 
 into Allan's mind. He therefore retired to the 
 inn, full of astonishment indeed, and in si- 
 lence ; though not wholly destitute of a clue, 
 by means of which the mystery could be in 
 some degree solved.
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 157 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Th E travellers were scarcely restored to their 
 sanctuary in the little sanded parlour, when Gal- 
 ium, who by some chance or another had been 
 permitted during recent occurrences to go at 
 large, broke in abruptly upon their tete-a-tete, 
 and put a slip of written paper into the hands 
 of Parson Neil. He read it hastily, tore it 
 into minute shreds, and applying the lighted 
 candle to the mass, reduced them to ashes. He 
 then summoned the landlord, and after ex- 
 hausting a tolerable vocabulary of abuse, com- 
 manded him to send in his bill without delay, 
 inasmuch as they should not continue an hour
 
 158 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 longer under the roof of one to whose kindness 
 they were so little indebted. It was to no 
 purpose that first Sanders and then his 
 spouse entreated the gentleman to overlook 
 their fault, " whilk was entirely to be attri- 
 buted to their zeal for the true Kirk, and the 
 Protestant succession." The insulted guest 
 declared, that no consideration whatever would 
 induce him to retract his determination, and 
 Galium was in consequence instructed to lead 
 the horses to the street with as little delay 
 as possible. 
 
 To pay for the viands consumed consider- 
 ably more than they were worth, to replace 
 the baggage in marching order, and to restore 
 to Allan the weapons which prudence had in- 
 duced his companion temporarily to remove, 
 occupied the space of a few moments only. The 
 travellers then mounted, and drew off slowly 
 from the door of a habitation where their re- 
 ception had certainly not been of the most 
 friendly character. But the tardiness of their
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 159 
 
 pace was not of long continuance. Having 
 cleared the suburbs, and attained to a point 
 where two roads met, Parson Neil, in a sup- 
 pressed voice, indicated his wish that a fresh 
 order of route should prevail. They accord- 
 ingly took that path which diverged to the 
 right, and plunging their spurs into their 
 horses' flanks, set forward at the utmost rate 
 of which the jaded animals were capable. 
 
 They had ridden thus, perhaps, a couple of 
 miles, along a rough road, and under a dark- 
 ened sky, when, attaining to an immense 
 shaggy, as it seemed, with fir-trees on the 
 right, and overgrown with gorse or some 
 other low bushes to the left, the distressed 
 state of their overwrought steeds compelled 
 them to slacken their pace. This was the 
 more necessary, because at every step the road 
 became more and more difficult of passage, 
 a steep and broken bank occurring from 
 time to time, which it behoved them to sur- 
 mount ; with here and there a ledge of smooth
 
 160 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 whinstone, worn away, in all probability, by 
 the feet of passengers alone. But it was not 
 till these obstacles had been surmounted, and 
 a second road to the right brought them upon 
 a more level track, that a syllable of conversa- 
 tion passed between them. The Parson, on the 
 contrary, whose thoughts seemed wholly oc- 
 cupied, not only made no remark himself, but 
 permitted many observations on the part of 
 Allan to remain unanswered ; indeed, his whole 
 manner was that of one, who feels that dangers 
 are around him, and that his chances of escape 
 are, to say the least, uncertain. 
 
 It was near midnight, when Allan found 
 himself approaching a solitary house, which, 
 with its outbuildings, apparently lodges and 
 stables, formed a sort of court-yard, or three 
 sides of a square. Of the architecture of that 
 mansion, as well as of the localities with which 
 it was surrounded, the darkness necessarily 
 hindered him from receiving any distinct im- 
 pression; but the clank of his horse's hoofs.
 
 ALLAN BRECK» 161 
 
 as he guided the animal towards it, made him 
 aware that the court itself at least was paved. 
 A light too, that streamed from a small win- 
 dow just above the front door, afforded proof 
 that the place was inhabited ; and that its in- 
 mates were not all retired to rest, the prompt 
 appearance of a man, in answer, as it seemed, 
 to a low whistle from Parson Neil, at once 
 assured him. Allan was not slow in imitating 
 the example that was set. He alighted, and 
 giving his bridle to the stranger, followed his 
 tutor on foot. 
 
 Without pausing to knock. Parson Neil 
 lifted the latch, and Allan saw before him a 
 narrow flight of stone steps, illuminated by a 
 single rushlight, stuck in the recess of what is 
 called a " bore," or small casement. By these 
 they ascended to a long passage or corridor, 
 which ran, as it appeared to Allan, along the 
 whole breadth of the house ; and served, as a 
 variety of doorways distinctly pointed out, to 
 connect its several apartments together. Here
 
 162 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 again Parson Neil gave proof that he was 
 not ignorant of the locale. He turned to 
 his left, and leading forward, conducted Allan 
 into a small but comfortable parlour, where, 
 with his back to the grate, in which, notwith- 
 standing the season of the year, a fire of peat 
 was burning, stood the same individual who 
 under such strange circumstances had twice 
 already crossed their path. 
 
 " I am glad to see you here, Mr. Mac- 
 pherson," said he, advancing and extending his 
 hand, " particularly glad that you have been 
 thus prompt in your movements. Had you de- 
 layed one half hour, no power on earth could 
 have saved you. But how, in the name of 
 fortune, came you to fix your quarters in the 
 very place of all others which you ought to 
 have avoided ? I thought you had been aware 
 of the change of government there, and that 
 the trap had been actually baited for you, and 
 such as you." 
 
 " I never heard of the circumstance till I
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 163 
 
 learned it from the people themselves : how in- 
 deed should I ? But is it prudent in you to 
 commit yourself here, even for a single night, 
 with a man circumstanced as I am ? What if 
 they should follow us P""* 
 
 '' Why then we must do as has been done 
 before," replied the stranger. " The old 
 hiding-hole has never, as far as I know, been 
 discovered ; and I believe it is large enough to 
 contain two with a little squeezing. But I 
 apprehend no pursuit in this direction to-night. 
 As soon, therefore, as you have refreshed your- 
 selves with such viands as we can furnish, it 
 will be the wisest course to go to bed, for the 
 sun must not rise upon you within four miles 
 of Stirling." 
 
 As he said this, he opened a small closet, from 
 which he was proceeding to bring forth certain 
 articles of food, when Parson Neil restrained 
 him. A draught of milk was all that he would 
 accept for himself, or permit Allan, who scarcely 
 relished the beverage, to receive ; after which
 
 164 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 their host, for so he appeared to be, marshalled 
 them to their chamber. It was a garret, un- 
 ceiled, and of narrow dimensions, containing 
 simply a couple of mattresses spread upon the 
 floor. Upon one of these Allan threw himself 
 down, and the other being occupied by the 
 Parson, the lights were speedily extinguished, 
 and a profound silence reigned throughout the 
 dweUing. 
 
 A man accustomed, as Allan had been from 
 his earliest years, to fatigue in its greatest excess, 
 and constant exposure to the weather, is not 
 easily put out of the ordinary routine of his 
 existence either when in action or in repose. 
 On the present occasion, however, the case 
 proved to be otherwise. Allan slept soundly 
 and long ; indeed he awoke not till after the 
 morning sun had beaten so fiercely through the 
 skylight of his chamber, as to give to it the tem- 
 perature, rather of a tropical than of a Scot- 
 tish dormitory. For a few moments he stared 
 about him in profound ignorance as to where
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 165 
 
 he was. He sat up, indeed, and rubbed his 
 eyes more than once, ere his thoughts attained 
 to any degree of consistency ; and even then 
 all that recurred to him was a vague and con- 
 fused recollection that certain strange scenes 
 had passed under his observation during the 
 previous day. A glance towards the mattress, 
 however, on which the Parson had reposed, 
 recalled the events of the previous night dis- 
 tinctly to his memory. He leaped from his 
 bed, and seeing that the other was vacated, 
 dressed in all haste, under the painful suspicion 
 that his ill-timed drowsiness might have put 
 his tutor to inconvenience, if not to personal 
 hazard. 
 
 Little time was expended by Allan upon his 
 toilet, after completing which he descended a 
 flight of perpendicular wooden steps, which 
 without so much as the skreen of a door, far 
 less the intervention of a landing-place, com- 
 municated between his sleeping apartment and 
 the corridor beneath. It was not a task of any
 
 166 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 difficulty to discover the parlour, into which, 
 on their arrival the night before, they had been 
 ushered; for in sober truth that little apart- 
 ment constituted the whole of what may be 
 termed the public rooms in this unpretending 
 mansion ; nevertheless, Allan was somewhat 
 startled by finding that it contained neither 
 his host of the preceding evening, nor, which 
 concerned him much more deeply. Parson Neil. 
 The sole occupants were three elderly ladies, 
 two of whom appeared busy with their needles, 
 while the third was sedulously engaged in load- 
 ing a table with bread, cream, cups, preserves, 
 a tea-pot, and other customary appliances to a 
 substantial breakfast. Allan insensibly drew 
 back at this spectacle, as if doubting whether 
 his presence might not be regarded as an in- 
 trusion ; but of all apprehensions on that head 
 he was instantly relieved. She who acted the 
 part of Martha intreated him to advance, in a 
 tone of which the genuine kindness could not 
 be mistaken, while all appeared to vie with
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 167 
 
 one another in their endeavours to convince 
 him that he was neither unexpected nor unwel- 
 come. 
 
 Reassured by this friendly reception, Allan 
 did not scruple to join the little party, to which 
 he naturally enough expected that every mo- 
 ment would bring an addition. He took his 
 seat, moreover, at the breakfast-table, though 
 scarcely disguising his surprise that the attack 
 upon that most social meal was not suspended ; 
 yet the meal passed over without the arrival 
 of any fresh guest, of whom indeed his hos- 
 tesses appeared not to expect the arrival. Al- 
 lan wondered at all this, and at last ventured 
 to ask, what had become of his friend, as well 
 as of the gentleman to whose hospitality they 
 were indebted. The ladies looked first at one 
 another, and then at him, with an expression 
 of which he could scarcely comprehend the im- 
 ]X)rt, and endeavoured — at least it struck him 
 so at the moment — to evade the question. But 
 Allan was not thus to be baffled. He repeated
 
 168 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 his inquiry in a tone of greater firmness, 
 though still absolutely free from rudeness or 
 suspicion ; and he was again met by an answer, 
 to say the least of it, somewhat vague. " The 
 gentlemen were no"* very far awa — but these 
 were unchancy times, and mony an honest man 
 was obliged to keep his head in hiding. How- 
 ever, Maister Mac Diarmid needna distress 
 himself about ony friends of his name, who 
 were all safe and valued there, as he might ha' 
 gathered by what befell the day before, ^baith at 
 Stirling and elsewhere.'" Allan could no longer 
 doubt that he was in the hands of friends, who 
 knew more, both of his own affairs, and of the 
 affairs of his clan, than he did himself. He, 
 therefore, abstained from pressing a point, con- 
 cerning which they seemed anxious to keep up 
 something like a mystery ; and anticipating 
 from half-hour to half-hour, that the Parson 
 would, in his own proper person, unravel it, 
 he was content to restain his curiosity within 
 the bounds of good breeding.
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 169 
 
 The remains of the breakfast being removed, 
 and the ladies addressing themselves to their 
 ordinary avocations, Allan began to think of 
 finding amusement for himself ; and with this 
 view spoke of strolling abroad, and examining 
 the scenery amid which chance had thrown 
 him. He was again surprised, when the elder 
 of the three, whom lameness appeared to con- 
 fine to her chair, threw out serious objections 
 to the proceeding. *' It wad be just as weel if 
 he didna gae far fra hame for ae day at ony 
 rate. Nae doubt this was an out o' the way 
 place, and there might be little danger in in- 
 dulging his humour ; but a single day's con- 
 finement wad do him nae harm, and there were 
 mony reasons why it wad be prudent to. put up 
 wi' it." 
 
 " But, indeed, my dear madam, I am per- 
 fectly unaware of any possible reason why I 
 should conceal myself even for a single day. 
 The occurrences of the last four-and-twenty 
 hours have, I confess, astonished me, but they 
 
 VOL. I. 1
 
 170 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 have in no wise taught me to feel like an 
 outlaw." 
 
 " May be no", my dear,*" replied the old 
 lady, " but young folk hae a great deal to 
 learn. I am an auld body, and hae seen 
 plenty of ups and doons, and hope to see still 
 mair before I die. So ye maun just submit 
 your judgment to mine on the present occa- 
 sion, and if ye behave weel, ye sal hae your 
 full liberty the morn." 
 
 Finding it useless to contest the point, 
 Allan gave himself up with a good grace to 
 the guidance of his venerable hostess. He 
 contented himself, therefore, with looking out 
 from the little windows, which, three in num- 
 ber, afforded three distinct phases to the pro- 
 spect ; and he saw enough, even from these 
 positions, to assure him that, though in the 
 low-countries, chance had brought him into a 
 region scarcely less wild, though totally dif- 
 ferent from that in which his whole life had 
 been spent. A crag, or rocky hill, of no
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 171 
 
 great altitude, but striking by reason of its 
 precipitous face, and the forest of aged fir 
 that surmounted it, hemmed in his vision, 
 at a hundred yards' distance, when gazing 
 in one direction. On the opposite side his eye 
 ranged over a half-neglected garden, to a 
 series of sloping grass-fields, at the bottom of 
 which ran an inconsiderable stream ; which 
 again was surmounted by a barren upland, 
 terminating in another fir-clad hill, similar 
 to that in his front. The third window again 
 opened out to him little else than a continu- 
 ance of the same kind of scenery, for it carried 
 his eye down the course of the stream, and 
 along a bleak and uncultivated scene ; through- 
 out the whole extent of which, only three or 
 four cottages could be seen, and these at re- 
 mote intervals the one from the other. In a 
 word, Allan beheld on all sides a striking spe- 
 cimen of the moorlands of Stirlingshire; a 
 county which, though for the most part sin- 
 gularly fertile, and now at least in a state of 
 I 2
 
 172 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 high cultivation, is not more than other dis- 
 tricts of the sister kingdom, an absolute para- 
 dise. 
 
 " You see before you a landscape,"" observed 
 the younger of the three ladies, '* upon which 
 true-bred Scotchmen cannot gaze without ex- 
 periencing a strange mixture of proud and de- 
 basing emotions. Far down in the bottom, 
 where the stream makes a bend to the north, 
 is the field of Bannockburn — the scene of 
 Bruce''s immortal triumph, and Scotland's tem- 
 porary escape from bondage. That hill to the 
 left is the same from which his camp-follow- 
 ers advanced, bearing their blankets on the 
 tops of poles as banners, and striking dismay, 
 by the sound of their bagpipes, into Edward"'s 
 chivalry. But what matters all that now ? 
 The memory of these illustrious deeds remains 
 only to cover with disgrace the fallen and 
 degraded descendants of those who wrought 
 them.'' 
 
 '' Let us houp for better things, Janet,"
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 173 
 
 interposed the eldest of the three ; *' ye tak owre 
 gloomy a view of affairs. Scotland may yet be 
 herself again ; and though I cannot pretend to 
 the second sight, I think the day is no' very 
 distant that will see her cast off the yoke.'' 
 
 " No, sister," replied the person now ad- 
 dressed, a woman apparently about fifty years 
 of age, whose regular features and clear com- 
 plexion denoted that she had been a beauty in 
 her youth; " do not deceive yourself; Scot- 
 land may rise against her oppressor, and make 
 another effort to be free, but she will make it 
 in vain. The blood of a betrayed sovereign — 
 of a sovereign sold to certain death, has weigh- 
 ed her down already, and will do so again. 
 Consider what her history has been ever since 
 the fatal paction of Newark. Her native 
 princes exiled, her religion overthrown, her 
 parliament dissolved, her national existence 
 taken away — these have been the just recom- 
 pense of that sacrilegious act ; — and then, as 
 often as a portion of her sons have striven to
 
 174 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 wipe out the stain, how have they fared ? 
 Look to the fate of Graham and his brave 
 followers, of Dundee the devoted and the 
 loyal, ay, and of those nearer home, whose 
 heads were blackening but a few years ago 
 over the Long-port of Edinburgh. No, sis- 
 ter, Scotland is fallen, and will never rise 
 again !" 
 
 " Ye'U no' say sae, Janet my dear," interposed 
 the more bustling of the three, with an accent 
 of affectionate blandness, which seemed peculiar 
 to her — " Ye^ll no' say sae when he comes him- 
 self, with a gallant array of Frenchmen at his 
 heels, to help our ain lads in the good work." 
 
 " Of Frenchmen, Baby !" exclaimed her sis- 
 ter disdainfully ; " trust to a broken reed, but 
 never trust a Frenchman. France has never 
 yet stood by Scotland in the hour of distress, 
 and never will. What did Henry for Mary, 
 or Louis the Fourteenth for James ? and what 
 will the present Louis do for a monarch, that 
 can give him little in return, except thanks ?
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 175 
 
 Our forefathers ever found the French faith- 
 less, and so will we." 
 
 " Aweel, Janet," rejoined the eldest, " it 
 may be as ye say, but it is no' for us to deter- 
 mine how the game is to be played, nor to 
 guide it by our counsels. We can only pray 
 that God will fight for the right ; and if he do, 
 all will yet be as we wish. I 'm thinking, 
 however, that ifs no' just worth while to bum- 
 baze this young man wi' our nonsense ; so, if 
 ye like, we'll change the subject, whilk is at all 
 times owre exciting for you, poor thing!" 
 
 As she said this, the old lady adroitly turn- 
 ed the conversation into a new channel. She 
 interrogated Allan as to the state of his mo- 
 ther's health, the condition of his native glen, 
 and the circumstances of many of the neigh- 
 bouring gentlemen, with all of whom she seem- 
 ed to be familiarly acquainted. Of course, 
 her knowledge of matters apparently so far be- 
 yond her natural sphere, excited Allan's curio- 
 sity not less than his surprise, and he, in his
 
 176 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 turn, began to put a few questions, of which 
 it was the tendency to draw from her an ex- 
 planation of a mystery to him incomprehensi- 
 ble. But these the old lady cautiously turned 
 aside ; and he succeeded in gathering nothing 
 farther than that she had once, in her younger 
 days, known many persons and many places, 
 of which she could now speak only as men 
 speak of their dreams. 
 
 In this manner the day passed, Allan striv- 
 ing to conceal a curiosity which became more 
 and more intense every moment, while his hos- 
 tesses did their best to gratify him in almost 
 every point, save that concerning which he was 
 most solicitous. They amused him with tales 
 of other times, descriptive of the manners of 
 that part of his country which he had not 
 yet seen. They spoke to him of the probable 
 consequences of his sojourn in the capital, and 
 mentioned the names of several persons of con- 
 sequence to whom they intended to introduce 
 him : nay, they went so far, especially the
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 177 
 
 eldest of the three, as to throw out an occa- 
 sional hint that from the son of his father 
 great things would fairly be expected ; and 
 hence, that more than an ordinary circum- 
 spection of behaviour was required at his 
 hands. 
 
 All this served only to whet the edge of 
 that passion under which Allan already la- 
 boured. He saw that they knew something 
 of his personal history as well as of the for- 
 tunes of his race ; and while his conscience told 
 him that the former was but little calculated 
 to command their respect, his natural good 
 sense suggested that the opportunity of re- 
 formation was not yet passed away. It must 
 be confessed, however, that the most promi- 
 nent subject of speculation with him was who 
 these women could be, and by what means 
 they could have attained to all that knowledge 
 which they manifestly possessed? But on 
 these heads he was doomed not, for the pre- 
 sent, to be gratified. On the contrary, dinner 
 i5
 
 178 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 came, and was discussed— and tea and supper 
 followed, without either restoring to him his 
 personal liberty or bringing back his friends ; 
 and when he retired at night to his " shake- 
 down"" in the garret, it was with ideas still 
 more confused than those which oppressed him 
 on the night before.
 
 ALLAN BRECK, 179 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Several days were spent by Allan in the 
 state of ungratified wonderment which marked 
 the progress of that of whicli we spoke in the 
 last chapter. He continued all this while a 
 close prisoner in the house, learning nothing 
 of the movements of his tutor, and knowing 
 nothing of the adventures which might await 
 himself; yet it cannot be said that time hung 
 heavily on his hands; on the contrary, he 
 found in the characters of his hostesses a 
 great deal to excite his interest, and in their 
 conversation much that was calculated both 
 to instruct and to amuse. There were.
 
 180 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 moreover, books within reach — not very nu- 
 merous perhaps, but exceedingly select ; while 
 the youngest of the three ladies occasionally 
 dispelled his ennui, by singing to her own 
 accompaniment on the spinnet a wild air of 
 his native hills. Now Allan, like his country- 
 men in general, was passionately fond of 
 music, more especially of the strains that 
 connect, in a Scotchman's imagination, his 
 own times with generations long gone by ; and 
 as almost all to which he listened here were 
 of this description, relating chiefly to the 
 exploits of Dundee, or the sorrows of that 
 gallant chief's female partizans, the tastes of 
 the young mountaineer were gratified to their 
 fullest extent. 
 
 Though they abstained from making him 
 acquainted either with their names or indivi- 
 dual histories, Allan gathered from their gene- 
 ral conversation that the ladies with whom he 
 associated were sisters, and that they were 
 unmarried. He collected, too, that they were
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 181 
 
 members of an honourable and loyal family, 
 which had adhered to the fortunes of the Stuarts 
 through evil report and through good, and 
 which was still ready to hazard its all in the 
 attempt to restore the exiled dynasty. Two of 
 them, indeed, carried their personal recollec- 
 tions back to the period of the Revolution, 
 of which, as well as of its immediate conse- 
 quences, they talked in bitter terms ; but the 
 events which, more than any others, seemed to 
 have left painful impressions on their minds, 
 were the union of the Parliaments and the fatal 
 insurrection of 1715. Of the first they spoke 
 as of a transaction ruinous, as well as disgrace- 
 ful, to Scotland ; of the last, as something by 
 which their personal feelings had been lace- 
 rated, beyond the power of time itself to 
 heal. To say the truth, however, it was from 
 her whom the sisters addressed as Janet, that 
 Allan heard most of the unhappy affair of 
 1715. It was a topic to which she continually 
 reverted, and, as it struck Allan, with a degree
 
 182 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 of bitterness, such as is, for the most part, 
 occasioned only by the overthrow of some fa- 
 vourite hope ; while the others failed not, as 
 often as an opportunity occurred, to withdraw 
 her from the contemplation of objects manifest- 
 ly too painful for endurance. Thus, though 
 little accustomed to the study of human cha- 
 racter, Allan found in his hostesses a great 
 deal to rivet his attention ; so much so, indeed, 
 that he became at once unconscious of the 
 progress that time was making, and forgetful, 
 to a certain extent, of the past. 
 
 In this manner much more than a week had 
 elapsed, throughout which Allan was permitted 
 no farther liberty than an occasional stroll in 
 the direction of the stream ; when, returning 
 one day rather sooner than he had intended, 
 he beheld in the little parlour the same indi- 
 vidual who had originally welcomed him to its 
 friendly shelter. Allan was not a nervous 
 youth, yet he could not so far command him- 
 self as to conceal the surprise with which the
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 183 
 
 contemplation of such an object affected him. 
 He started back involuntarily ; and though he 
 checked the emotion at once, the smile which 
 played upon the stranger''s features convinced 
 him that the movement had not escaped ob- 
 servation. A proud man, however, and Allan 
 was not wanting in that quality, cannot endure 
 to be taken by surprise ; he therefore threw 
 into his manner a semblance of the most per- 
 fect indifference, and returned the smile with 
 which the stranger regarded him, with a keener 
 and more scrutinizing stare than he had yet 
 esteemed it necessary to employ. 
 
 When he first saw the individual in question, 
 the impression produced on his mind was not 
 such as to excite any pressing desire to inquire 
 minutely into his condition or circumstances. 
 Concluding that he belonged to the order of 
 respectable burghers — a class with whom his 
 companion was likely to have formed an in- 
 timacy in his youth, Allan took little heed 
 either of his appearance or manner ; nor, when
 
 184 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 his opportune arrival in the Provost's back- 
 shop stood both the Parson and himself in 
 stead, did there occur much to create a dif- 
 ferent feeling. The part which he had played 
 since was, however, calculated to render him 
 an object of considerable interest ; and Allan 
 now examined him closely for the purpose of 
 ascertaining, if he could, whether any, and 
 what species of mystery surrounded him. But 
 he discovered nothing, either in the bearing or 
 dress of the man, to warrant such a notion. 
 
 In stature he was above, rather than below, 
 the middle size; robust, and strongly built. 
 His age might be sixty, or perhaps more, 
 though he carried his years well, and seemed 
 capable of undergoing any degree of fatigue ; 
 but his bearing was not marked by any pecu- 
 liarities. There was a frankness about him, 
 and a total absence of servility, which pro- 
 duced a conviction that he must at least be 
 independent in his circumstances; and which
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 185 
 
 might, for aught he knew to the contrary, be 
 occasioned by a consciousness of superior rank. 
 Nevertheless, Allan could not but acknowledge 
 that his close and somewhat lengthened scru- 
 tiny left him pretty much where he was before, 
 except that he received an impression that it 
 was his part to behave towards the stranger at 
 least with modesty, perhaps with forbearance. 
 
 The ordinary salutations having passed, the 
 stranger, without pausing to be interrogated, 
 abruptly informed Allan that he was the 
 bearer of a message from Mr. Macpherson, 
 who, for reasons of a peculiar kind, found 
 himself incapacitated from personally conduct- 
 ing his pupil to the metropolis. '* He has 
 commissioned me," continued he, " to send 
 you forward, duly supplied with such letters 
 as may at once introduce you to the society 
 befitting your birth, and place the opportunity 
 of acquiring knowledge within your reach ; 
 and very willingly would I have discharged
 
 186 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 the trust in person, had not I, likewise, been 
 detained in the west by business of a pressing 
 nature. You will, however, find, that you are 
 not unexpected in Edinburgh, and the creden- 
 tials which I shall have the pleasure of putting 
 into your hands, will, I trust, serve you in good 
 stead. Perhaps you may discover, when you 
 reach the capital, that more is looked for from 
 a Mac Diarmid than that he should study 
 logic and the classics in times like these ; and 
 I will not so far distrust the blood as to 
 imagine that any of the race will be slow in 
 doing his duty. I give no opinion as to the 
 fitting moment when your journey ought to 
 commence. I only beg to say, that whenever 
 you feel disposed to set out, a guide is ready 
 to conduct you and your servant to the place 
 of your destination." 
 
 Allan thanked the speaker for his good in- 
 tentions, and professed his readiness to set out 
 on the instant; but he asked no questions 
 respecting Parson Neil. A two-fold motive
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 187 
 
 influenced him here. In the first place, he 
 thought that he could observe in the manner 
 of his new friend a disinclination to enter 
 more into particulars than he had already 
 done; in the next, he was not himself parti- 
 cularly anxious to be favoured with a renewal 
 of the Parson's society. After a few words of 
 general conversation, therefore, it was deter- 
 mined that he should abide where he was for 
 that night, so as to commence his journey with 
 the first dawn on the morrow. 
 
 There occurred nothing during the re- 
 mainder of the day calculated in any extra- 
 ordinary degree to keep the attention of Allan 
 on the rack. The stranger v/as indeed an ob- 
 ject of considerable interest, as well on account 
 of the deference with which he was treated by 
 the ladies of the house, as from the reserve of 
 his own habits; but of him he saw little, for, 
 except at meal-times, he was constantly shut 
 up in his own apartment. His conversation, 
 too, when he joined the family, though per-
 
 188 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 fectly gentlemanlike, was marked by a degree 
 of stateliness which checked all approaches to 
 familiarity. He studiously avoided all allu- 
 sions to himself, to the state of the times, and 
 to his own proceedings. On the other hand, 
 Allan failed not to remark, that, with the 
 respect which they paid to him, was mixed up 
 a great deal of warm and affectionate feeling. 
 This was particularly apparent in the case of 
 the youngest sister, towards whom he seemed 
 to be drawn by a species of sympathy not 
 easy to be defined ; for it required but little 
 penetration to discover that there could not 
 possilily exist between them either the tie of 
 relationship, or the bond of a marriage con- 
 tract. 
 
 The day passed over heavily enough, as far 
 as Allan was concerned ; and the ladies, after 
 bidding him farewell, withdrew to their cham- 
 bers. Allan was about to follow the example, 
 when the stranger, who lingered behind the 
 rest of the company, motioned him to remain.
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 189 
 
 He did so, without however resuming his seat, 
 and assuming an air of indifference, waited 
 patiently till his companion should see fit to 
 open the conference. But he was not destined 
 to be kept long in suspense. As soon as the 
 door was closed, and they were left alone to- 
 gether, the stranger took from his bosom a 
 packet, and handing it to Allan, informed 
 him, in few words, that it contained the intro- 
 ductions to which he had formerly alluded. 
 " And now, Glenarroch," continued he, " I 
 might put an end to this interview, were I not 
 impelled by the interest which I take in all 
 that concerns your family, to offer to you a 
 few words of advice and warning. I will not 
 conceal from you, that with the habits in 
 which you have hitherto indulged I have been 
 made acquainted. Nay, do not start, young 
 man, nor frown, as if the smallest wrong had 
 been done you. I had a right to inquire into 
 the matter, and they who told the truth only 
 did their duty. I repeat then, that with the
 
 190 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 discreditable habits in which you have too long 
 indulged I am well acquainted ; and the re- 
 serve with which you have been treated ever 
 since you came here, may satisfy you, that 
 such practices are not likely to advance you 
 in the estimation of your fatlier's friends. As 
 you value the honour of the name you bear, 
 look well to yourself in the place whither you 
 are going. Many eyes will be upon you, 
 when you know it not, and your fate, either for 
 good or ill, will be determined probably before 
 you are aware of it. So much for general ad- 
 vice — and now for a hint more immediately 
 concerning individuals. Beware how you lend 
 yourself to any project which shall have for 
 its object the gratification of your own wishes 
 at the expense of another's happiness. There, 
 again, I warn you, that eyes will watch your 
 proceedings, such as you may find it impos- 
 sible to deceive; and should you be proved 
 capable of an act so atrocious, you need not 
 show your face again in the society of honour- 
 able men."
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 191 
 
 " And who are you,'" demanded Allan, 
 fiercely, " that presume thus to lay down laws 
 for me, who never had the honour of seeing 
 you till the other day ?" 
 
 " It matters not w^ho or what I may be,"" 
 replied the stranger sternly ; " it is enough 
 for you to be aware that with the circum- 
 stances of your family I am intimately ac- 
 quainted; and that, for their sakes, if not for 
 your own, I desire to see you different from 
 what you have been. I speak to you as a 
 friend ; but I tell you fairly, that whether I 
 am to continue to regard you as such, will de- 
 pend entirely on the line of conduct which you 
 consider it proper to pursue/' 
 
 " If you really know the circumstances of 
 my family as intimately as you profess,"" replied 
 Allan, " you must be aware that it is not their 
 custom to value either the friendship or the 
 enmity of mortal man. So far you will find 
 that I am not degenerate from my forefathers. 
 I hold equally cheap both the protection and 
 the defiance that you offer me."
 
 192 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 " I did not enter upon this subject,'"' replied 
 the stranger coolly, " for the purpose of ban- 
 dying angry words with the son of Glenarroch. 
 Your fate is in your own hands, and the con- 
 sequences of your conduct, either for good or 
 evil, will fall upon your own head. I wish 
 you a good night. Your servant and guide 
 will be ready to attend you as soon as you 
 please in the morning." 
 
 The stranger was about to withdraw, when 
 Allan threw himself between him and the door. 
 " We part not thus, sir," said he. " Your 
 years, and the peculiar circumstances under 
 which we meet, hinder me from taking up the 
 gauntlet which you have somewhat needlessly 
 thrown down. But at least I vidll accept of no 
 favours from your hand. Take back your in- 
 troductory letters. I would rather live alone 
 all my days, than owe my footing in the best 
 society that Scotland can afford, to you."" 
 
 " Allan Mac Diarmid," replied the stranger 
 in a softened tone, " I will not take back
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 193 
 
 these letters. They were written at the desire 
 of your mother ; and for her sake, if not for 
 your own, I must insist on your making a 
 proper use of them. I did not mean to hurt 
 your feelings, far from it — but I do wish to 
 awaken you to a sense of what is due to your- 
 self; and therefore I speak plainly both of 
 the past and of the future. Much more agree- 
 able would it have been to me, had I been per- 
 mitted to take the son of my old friend int 
 my closest confidence — but that time may come 
 yet. Good night — and if my manner have ap- 
 peared harsh, forget it, while you remember 
 only the advice that I have felt it my duty to 
 give.'"* 
 
 Allan was much struck with the mixture of 
 dignity and kindness with which this brief sen- 
 tence was spoken. Involuntarily his anger 
 gave way, and putting up the packet in his 
 bosom, he answered only with a low bow. 
 Nor was the conference protracted on the other 
 side. When Allan raised his head, the stranger 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 194 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 had already passed him, and mutually saluting 
 one another, they separated ; the one travers- 
 ing the corridor towards a chamber at the 
 further extremity, the other mounting the 
 trap-stair, or ladder, towards his roost in the 
 garret. 
 
 The grey dawn of the morning was yet strug- 
 gling with night, when Allan, whose dreams 
 had been of a confused and somewhat distress- 
 ing nature, awoke. He rose feverish and un- 
 easy, and descending to the court-yard found, 
 to his no small astonishment, that Galium, of 
 whom he had neither seen nor heard anything 
 since the memorable night of their arrival, was 
 waiting to receive his orders. The poor fel- 
 low expressed himself delighted at the meeting, 
 and eagerly demanded when his master would 
 be ready to set out, for the horses, he said, 
 were saddled and ready, and the guide lay 
 sleeping beside them. Now as Allan had re- 
 ceived his dismissal over-night, there existed 
 no reasonable obstacle to oppose to the imme-
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 195 
 
 diate gratification of Callum's wishes. He, 
 therefore, directed that functionary to call the 
 guide and lead out the horses ; and Galium 
 obeying with singular good-will, the little 
 cavalcade mounted and set forward. 
 
 The first three or four miles of their journey 
 led across a dreary and barren tract, not ex- 
 actly of moor, but of arid and dry pasture- 
 land, overrun with loose stones, and diversified 
 here and there by extensive patches of gorse. 
 This, however, came to an end so soon as they 
 had crossed the stream, and begun to mount 
 the heights which overhang it on the south, on 
 attaining the summit of which, there burst all at 
 once upon the vision of Allan a panorama that 
 excited in no ordinary degree his admiration. 
 The sun rising in cloudless majesty above the 
 tops of a range of low hills, shed down a gush 
 of golden light upon the carse of Stirling. 
 Through the centre of that vast plain, now 
 waving with corn, and beautifully diversified 
 with wood, the Forth wound on his tortuous 
 K 2
 
 196 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 way, gradually extending his waters till they 
 became merged in the Frith, over which nu- 
 merous white sails were plying. Far to the 
 west rose that iron range, from which he had 
 himself so recently descended, blue even in 
 the morning light, and gloriously rugged ; 
 while on tlie north the green Ochils presented 
 a barrier to the eye, less gigantic, it is true, 
 but scarcely less picturesque, certainly not less 
 beautiful. But it was not on account of its 
 magnificent boundaries, nor yet because of the 
 extraordinary richness and fertility of the plain 
 itself, that Allan stood to gaze upon that scene 
 with unspeakable delight. He beheld rising 
 sheer and abrupt, like islands from the bosom 
 of the sea, four or five rocks or crags, singu- 
 larly alike in their conformation and shape, 
 and all within the compass of three leagues the 
 one from the other. These broke in upon the 
 extensive level, and towering upwards, almost 
 at its centre, carried back the imagination to 
 other times, when, in all probability, their bar-
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 197 
 
 ren tops were alone seen from amid a waste of 
 waters. Nor let the effect be omitted of the 
 early sunbeams striking full upon the house- 
 tops and battlements of romantic Stirling. In 
 a word, Allan looked round upon a scene, 
 than which it were difficult to discover one 
 more attractive in nature ; and in comparison 
 with which, the chastest flight of the most 
 chaste imaginaticm would produce something 
 in a remarkable degree insipid. 
 
 Having halted to gratify his feelings, at 
 least as long as his guide appeared to relish, 
 Allan again set forward. He met with no 
 adventure, worthy of repetition, in his way. 
 The little conversation that passed, moreover, 
 betvveen him and Galium, proved, as far as he 
 was concerned, the reverse of satisfactory ; for 
 though he discovered that his valet had not, 
 during the past week, been a denizen of the 
 same spot of earth with himself, neither by 
 threats nor persuasions could he prevail upon 
 him to say where his time had been spent.
 
 198 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 All that the imperturbable attendant could be 
 induced to communicate amounted to this, 
 that " he had been to mair nor ae place, but 
 whereabouts they lay, and what took him 
 there in truth he couldna tell." Allan became, 
 naturally enough, somewhat sulky under such 
 treatment, and hence, when the goal towards 
 which they were bound came in view, it was 
 beheld without the utterance of a single ob- 
 servation by any of the party.
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 199 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 The day was drawing to a close, when the 
 travellers, after making a circuit round the 
 base of the rock on which the castle of Edin- 
 burgh stands, and traversing the Cowgate, 
 turned to the left, and ascending a steep wynd 
 or alley, emerged into the High-street, not far 
 from the ancient cathedral church of St. Giles. 
 To Allan, who had never before mingled in 
 " the busy haunts of men," the scene was at 
 once imposing and extraordinary. Crowds of 
 work-people let loose from their daily toils, 
 thronged the trottoirs ; carriages, carts, wag- 
 gons, and sedan-chairs, passed to and fro over
 
 200 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 the causeway, while here and there a group 
 of gallants might be seen, jostling their way, 
 in a state of more than half intoxication, from 
 one " change-house" to another. Then the 
 height of the houses, the breadth and length 
 of the street, the magnificent architecture of 
 the old church, — these, with the curious 
 aspect of the luckenbooths, and of countless 
 objects besides, to which there is scarcely to be 
 found, in other European cities, an exact par- 
 allel, could hardly fail of affecting a stranger 
 from the western hills with sensations wholly 
 new. With respect to Galium, indeed, he ap- 
 peared utterly confounded. He gazed round 
 him with a stare so vacant, that even the 
 guide, though well accustomed to witness the 
 utmost effects of surprise, could not refrain his 
 laughter, which he indulged freely, in conse- 
 quence of the inability of its object to compre- 
 hend in what source it could by possibility 
 originate. Yet when the lowlander, in the pe- 
 tulance of superior knowledge, began to joke
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 201 
 
 his companion on his presumed inferiority, he 
 found the Celt by no means disposed to accord 
 with his humour. 
 
 " Saw ye ever sic a sight as that ?" quoth 
 the guide. " Is na that a muckle town ?" 
 
 " Oo ay,'* replied Galium, '« the toon 's 
 well enough — but I wus ye saw the toon of 
 Glenarroch ?" 
 
 But there was little opportunity afforded for 
 the kind of recrimination which this commence- 
 ment to the dialogue between these testy per- 
 sonages threatened to produce. In a few mo- 
 ments after gaining the High-street, the guide 
 drew up on the right side of the way, and 
 pointing to the mouth of a close, informed 
 Allan " that doon there Mr. Keelevine staid.'" 
 Allan immediately dismounted, and leaving the 
 horses in charge of Galium, followed his con- 
 ductor to the " land,"'*' in the second story of 
 which resided the gentleman under whose roof 
 he was destined to be, for some time at least, a 
 sojourner. 
 
 k5
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 With the customs of the Scottish gentry an 
 hundred years ago, as they exhibited them- 
 selves both in the privacy of domestic life and 
 in public, the English reader is by this time 
 too well acquainted to render any exposition of 
 them necessary here. Let it suffice to state, 
 that Allan found the Writer, a bachelor of some 
 fifty years' standing, hospitable and kind after 
 his own peculiar fashion ; that his establish- 
 ment consisted of a single female servant, a 
 willing and hard-working slave, though cer- 
 tainly not troublesome by reason of over-clean- 
 liness or excess of polish ; and that, being ex- 
 pected, he was not the cause of any extra- 
 ordinary bustle — the never-failing consequence 
 of an abrupt invasion of a bachelor's family. 
 Mr. Keelevine, on the contrary, " wondered 
 what could ha keepit him sae lang on the 
 road," — ^" was mickle disappointed that his 
 auld friend and chum didna think it safe to ac- 
 company him," — " and wad hae the greatest- 
 pleasure in the world in doing a' that lay in his
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 203 
 
 power to mak him comfortable." In a word, 
 Allan felt himself at ease on the instant, and 
 dismissing his guide, to whose custody the 
 horses were entrusted, in order that they might 
 be sent back to Glenarroch, took possession, 
 with Galium as a valet, of a suite of apart- 
 ments which the Writer had hired for him. 
 
 We pass over the occurrences of the suc- 
 ceeding ten days, because they differed in no- 
 thing from those which generally attend the 
 first appearance of a young man on the stage 
 of public life. Allan delivered his credentials, 
 was hospitably received by those to whom they 
 were addressed, and partook of such entertain- 
 ments as it was then the fashion to give — 
 dining for the most part at home — repairing at 
 five o'clock to the ladies^ tea-table — and ad- 
 journing from thence to some tavern or 
 " change-house," where supper, then the social 
 meal among gentlemen, had been ordered. In 
 meetings of the latter description, indeed, Allan 
 took an especial interest. They suited his
 
 204} ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 habits exactly, for the men drank deep ; and 
 of his taste for hard-drinking we have already 
 had occasion to speak. Yet, though treated 
 with marked kindness at first, Allan saw, or 
 imagined that he saw, even here, symptoms of 
 growing coldness among his new friends. Nor 
 perhaps did he misinterpret the temper of 
 the times. Indulging freely in an occa- 
 sional screed, the Scottish gentlemen of the 
 eighteenth century were not confirmed sots; 
 and as Allan's infirmity grew upon him from 
 day to day, he ceased by degrees to hold his 
 natural place in society. 
 
 Soured and disgusted by what he chose to 
 regard as an unmerited slight, Allan gradually 
 withdrew from the company of his equals — 
 and as man " cannot live alone," chose a set 
 of companions from among the lowest and most 
 unprincipled frequenters of the taverns. His 
 orgies were no longer conducted according to 
 the established usage of gentlemanly sittings. 
 Brandy, and usqueba, in enormous quantities,
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 205 
 
 became substitutes for claret and canary, while 
 brawls and personal rencontres seldom failed 
 to give variety to the sport. Before the ex- 
 piration of three short weeks, indeed, Allan had 
 not only disappointed all the hopes of those who 
 took an interest in his welfare, but had sunk in 
 the scale of debauchery and vice below their 
 most dreaded anticipations. 
 
 We are not going to offer the slightest 
 apology for behaviour so discreditable. It is 
 beyond dispute, that the principles of honour 
 and right feeling were fast decaying from the 
 young man's mind. The last link between up- 
 rightness and utter degradation, the sense of 
 shame itself, scarcely held together ; indeed, 
 even Mr. Keelevine, the most submissive and 
 obsequious of Writers, began to throw out 
 broad and intelligible hints, that he had not 
 bargained for such a protege as Parson Neil had 
 sent him. Yet, let justice be done even to 
 Allan. He saw, or imagined that he saw, that 
 into whatever company he obtruded himself.
 
 206 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 all eyes, but especially those of the women, be- 
 held him with disgust. It is true that such 
 efforts as he made to render himself agreeable 
 to the fair sex, were both awkwardly performed 
 and wretchedly directed; nevertheless, the ap- 
 parent coldness, even of those most indifferent 
 to him, rankled like a poisoned arrow at his 
 heart. The truth is, that like most men to 
 whom some particular defect attaches, he was 
 especially sensitive on the score of that defect. 
 He had taught himself to suspect that by the 
 sheer deformity of his countenance an im- 
 passable line was drawn between him and the 
 purer and better feelings of his nature; nor 
 was there a circumstance, however trivial in 
 itself, however distinct from the bent of his 
 overheated imagination, that he did not twist 
 and bend into a confirmation of that, his most 
 abhorred suspicion. 
 
 So far a general sense of wrong, if we may 
 venture to use the phrase, had influence in 
 giving a turn to his tastes and character.
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 207 
 
 There were, however, other thoughts, still more 
 poignant, as well as more continually at work, 
 that drove him to seek for refuge from present 
 misery in almost any resource. Allan still 
 doated upon his cousin. By night and by day 
 her image w^as uppermost in his mind, except 
 when the whirl of dissipation momentarily 
 drowned it ; and as there accompanied it only 
 the bitter reflection that she had renounced 
 him for ever, it is scarcely to be wondered at 
 if he should seek to steep his memory in the 
 most poisonous dregs of forgetfulness. We 
 have spoken of Allan as a proud man. He 
 was so, in the worst sense of that term — for 
 pride and selfishness were with him convertible 
 terms. In every respect save one, — in point 
 of birth, connexion, personal merit, and man- 
 ners, he considered himself entitled to the love 
 of any girl whom he might choose to ad- 
 dress. He believed also, that there was a 
 time when his influence, where alone he cared 
 to exercise it, was paramount ; and he ima-
 
 208 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 gined that the case might have been so still, 
 but for an accident. But when he beheld 
 the reflection of his scathed visage in the 
 glass — when he looked upon that counte- 
 nance, blasted and disfigured by disease — 
 proud as he was, the acknowledgment burst 
 from his very heart, that Marcelly could not 
 be blamed if she loathed him. In few words, 
 a deep and overwhelming conviction that God 
 had dealt unfairly by him — a persuasion that 
 he was marked by an especial providence as an 
 outcast from his kind, haunted him like an 
 evil spirit continually, and drove him, in ab- 
 solute desperation— in the very spirit of de- 
 fiance to his Maker and his laws — to commit 
 crimes, from the bare idea of which he would 
 have otherwise shrunk. 
 
 Desperate as he was, and reckless of the 
 opinion of the world, there was yet one prin- 
 ciple about Allan which neither time, nor an 
 enlarged intercourse with profligate society, 
 succeeded in rooting out. For his mother he
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 209 
 
 continued to entertain the most profound re- 
 verence. Whatever might have been the case 
 with others, she at least had never turned her 
 back upon him. No — when the hand of God 
 fell first and most heavily upon him — when all 
 besides shrank from him as something polluted 
 and impure, he remembered that his mother's 
 eye still beamed on him with kindness — that 
 her tongue uttered accents of affection and sup- 
 port alone. For her, therefore, his devotion 
 continued to be, what it had ever been, bound- 
 less. There was no sacrifice that he would not 
 have cheerfully made, had she but required it 
 — there was no act which he would have failed 
 to perform, had its performance promised to 
 increase her happiness. So far, indeed, was 
 the feeling carried, that even in his wildest hu- 
 mours, a hint that his mother would receive 
 pain from some meditated outrage would suf- 
 fice to restrain him. Unfortunately, however, 
 the single being who possessed any real in- 
 fluence over him, knew not how to exercise it
 
 210 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 for his good. In her eyes he was all that a 
 mother could desire her son to be ; and hence 
 she not only failed to restrain him in his career 
 of evil, but totally discrediting that such a 
 career was begun, encouraged him to follow it 
 up, by ministering to the accomplishment of his 
 most extravagant wishes. 
 
 Among other matters, from a due acquaint- 
 ance with which Allan^s education had almost 
 unavoidably kept him back, was a knowledge 
 of the value of money. Requiring but little to 
 supply his wants in Glenarroch, yet accustomed 
 to have these wants fully gratified, Allan con- 
 tinued to deny himself nothing when in the me- 
 tropolis ; and as a necessary consequence, dissi- 
 pated his slender supplies in an inconceivably 
 short space of time, besides running up scores 
 in more than one quarter. No great while 
 elapsed, ere he began to feel the effects of this. 
 Tavern-keepers an hundred years ago were 
 like tavern-keepers of the present day, but lit- 
 tle disposed to give unconscionable credit ; and
 
 ALLAN BRECK. ^11 
 
 hence Allan, whose debts chanced to accumulate 
 chiefly at the quarters whither the desire of 
 " drowning care" drove him, soon began to 
 find himself but an unwelcome guest even 
 there. It is said that when a horse becomes 
 fairly bogged, he never thinks of drawing back, 
 but flounders on till he is totally lost. In 
 like manner, Allan followed the usual proceed- 
 ing of young men situated as he then was ; and 
 believing his affairs to be desperate, took ex- 
 actly the steps that were calculated to render 
 them so. 
 
 In all countries, and at all periods of their 
 history, the common resource of men who love 
 dissipation and lack the means of purchasing 
 it, is play. In Edinburgh as well as elsewhere, 
 and an hundred years ago equally as now, 
 the opportunity of indulging that propensity 
 lay within the reach of such as might seek it — 
 nor was Allan long left to exercise his ingenuity 
 in considering how it behoved him to proceed. 
 He had early become a member of more than
 
 ^1^ ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 one of those clubs or associations, the avowed 
 purpose of whose existence was to kill time and 
 seek amusement. Into the Horn Order he was 
 introduced by one of its leading members ; and 
 he entered for a time, with heart and soul, into 
 its follies and vices. He now enrolled himself 
 in the Hell-fire Club ; and soon became, in point 
 of recklessness, and an utter disregard of all ties 
 human and divine, a prominent performer in 
 that outrageous company. But Allan, though 
 a rash and eager gambler, was no match in 
 point of skill for those with whom he asso- 
 ciated. Like other pigeons, he won small sums 
 at first, only that he might lose them again 
 with interest ; till in the end the means to 
 which he had trusted for the purpose of repair- 
 ing his broken fortunes, put the last seal to his 
 ruin.
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 213 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 Among the many " strange companions'" 
 with whom his habits brought Allan into con- 
 tact, there was one in particular to whose ge- 
 nerosity he had on various and pressing occa- 
 sions been indebted. Who or what that indi- 
 vidual might be, no one appeared to know ; 
 except that he played skilfully — was by his 
 dialect an Englishman — spent his money freely, 
 and put up, sometimes at one place of public 
 resort, sometimes at another. In person he was 
 handsome, that is to say, tall and well-propor- 
 tioned. His features were regular, and his 
 hair dark and clustering ; in short, his appear-
 
 ^14 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 ance was altogether such as would scarcely 
 fail of inducing even a careless observer to look 
 at him attentively. It is highly probable, how- 
 ever, that the effect of a close and critical exa- 
 mination would not have been favourable to 
 him. A sallow complexion, with a peculiar 
 cast of the eye — a disinclination, as it seemed, 
 to look you directly in the face, gave somewhat 
 of a sinister expression to his countenance, 
 which was not removed by a certain habit 
 which he appeared to have, of watching with 
 an eagle''s glance the movements of those 
 around him, as often as their attention chanced 
 to be turned to other objects. Yet was there 
 nothing absolutely repulsive, either in the bear- 
 ing or manner of this man. He was, on the 
 contrary, polite almost to servility — slow of 
 speech, and peculiarly guarded in the expres- 
 sions which he employed ; qualities which kept 
 him clear from giving as well as taking offence, 
 under circumstances in which quarrels were 
 somewhat hard to be avoided.
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 215 
 
 Hatfield, for such was the name by which 
 the Englishman was known, had frequented 
 the gaming houses of Edinburgh long before 
 Allan made his appearance there. From time 
 to time, indeed, his companions missed him, 
 for he absented himself occasionally for three 
 months at a stretch ; but he never failed to 
 return in the long run with the same abrupt- 
 ness that had marked his departure. It was 
 understood, moreover, that though on speaking 
 terms with all the most dashing black-legs 
 about town, he honoured none of them with 
 his confidence ; nor, as far as any one knew, 
 had he ever admitted them to the rites of 
 hospitality. Equally remarkable was it, that 
 though no one could accuse him of playing un- 
 fairly, he was almost always successful ; and 
 that too in the face of chicanery, which on 
 more than one occasion he had exposed. The 
 consequence was, that while they eyed him 
 askance, the professional frequenters of Allan'*s 
 Close, Halkerston's Wynd, and such other
 
 216 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 resorts of the profligate, could not presume to 
 insinuate any charge against him, on the 
 strength of which he might be ejected from 
 their society. 
 
 Either design or accident so ordered it, that 
 of the particular parties among which this indi- 
 vidual was included Allan frequently formed 
 one. They played against each other too on 
 all occasions; and Allan invariably came off 
 the loser. For a time he paid his debts, and 
 while the scanty remittances which he received 
 from home enabled him so to do, paid them in 
 money ; when these failed, notes of hand were 
 substituted, which Hatfield accepted readily, 
 and for the redemption of which he appeared 
 nowise urgent. Encouraged by this seeming 
 forbearance, Allan pursued his fatal course, 
 till there hung over him a load, of the amount 
 of which he was scarcely aware — nay more, he 
 stooped so low as to accept at the hands of this 
 stranger several direct loans, in order that he 
 might satisfy the demands of some other and
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 217 
 
 more pressing creditors. It is true that these 
 advances were made^ not only without reluc- 
 tance, but with a cheerfulness of manner well 
 calculated to lessen the load of obligation ; 
 nevertheless, fallen as he was, Allan could not 
 look back upon such transactions without the 
 deepest self-condemnation. By degrees, in- 
 deed, thought became torture to him, and 
 solitude hell. A mesh was woven round him, 
 of which he felt the pressure, but from which 
 he saw no possibility of escape ; and hence the 
 single object of his exertions was to stifle 
 reflection, by plunging still deeper into the 
 abyss. 
 
 In proportion as his afljairs approached a 
 state of utter ruin, the few principles of honour 
 which had survived his reckless career in the 
 Highlands, faded one by one from Allan's 
 mind. Hitherto his play had been marked by 
 no unfair dealing. He watched his game at- 
 tentively, and staked his money where he ima- 
 gined the chances to be in his favour — he now 
 
 VOL. 1. L
 
 218 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 began to admit the idea, that much more than 
 this might be hazarded. Long and anxious 
 hours in each morning were in consequence 
 devoted to a study of this new branch in what 
 may be termed his profession. He threw the 
 cards into every imaginable combination ; he 
 practised slight of hand till he became an adept 
 in the arts both of substitution and abstrac- 
 tion ; and, above all, he put violence on his 
 humours, and acquired the power of abstinence 
 at will, both from bursts of passion and the 
 use of exciting potations. In a word, by dint 
 of intense study, he made himself master of 
 those secrets which are not often laid bare to 
 the solitary inquirer, and having screwed his 
 courage to the sticking-place, he proceeded to 
 carry into practice the lessons which he had 
 learned in the privacy of his own apartment. 
 
 The first steps which men take in vice, more 
 especially in those particular vices which the 
 world is prompt to condemn, are taken with 
 fear and trembling. Allan exercised his skill
 
 ALLAN BRECK. S19 
 
 for a time under the influence of an agonizing 
 excitement. He did not venture to look round, 
 lest his eyes should meet the suspicious glances 
 of the company, and he took care to select as 
 his instruments, those alone whose want of ex- 
 perience rendered them peculiarly open to his 
 attacks. He succeeded beyond his expecta- 
 tions. Night after night fortune favoured him 
 by throwing in his way some raw youth, over 
 whom, heated by wine, it was no hard task to 
 triumph ; nor could he discover that the faint- 
 est suspicion of his integrity was entertained, 
 either by the sufferer himself, or the lookers on. 
 As a necessary consequence, Allan became, day 
 by day, more satisfied with the course which 
 he had adopted. Each successive trial gave 
 him fresh courage to embark upon a new en- 
 terprise, till he learned at last to smile in the 
 face of his victim, while deliberately consigning 
 him to destruction. 
 
 Though they sometimes expressed their sur- 
 prise at the turn which his luck had taken, 
 L 2
 
 220 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 Allan's gambling friends dropped no hints in- 
 jurious to his character as a man of honour. 
 They saw, indeed, that he came sober to the 
 table, and they passed their jokes on the pro- 
 bable motives which induced him to do so; but 
 neither by innuendo, nor even by gesture, did 
 they raise a suspicion in his mind that they 
 understood the nature of his play. All this 
 was highly satisfactory to Allan, who began to 
 anticipate the possibility of a release from the 
 bonds in which his pecuniary obligations held 
 him towards Hatfield. But as yet he studiously 
 avoided coming into direct collision with that 
 individual. There might, perhaps, be a lin- 
 gering of good feeling here : it was not quite - 
 satisfactory to engage with unequal weapons a 
 man from whom he had received so many fa- 
 vours ; and as to meeting him on other terms, 
 that a long experience proved to be useless. 
 Nevertheless, a regard to truth compels us to 
 acknowledge, that good feeling alone did not 
 sway him. Once or twice, just as some juggle
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 221 
 
 had taken effect, Allan''s eye chanced to en- 
 counter that of Hatfield, and he imagined 
 that there was in the latter an expression of 
 strange import, which he would not venture to 
 analyze too closely. The fact however is, that 
 Hatfield''s sidelong glances resembled those of 
 no other man besides. There was always a 
 twinkle in his eye — a peering, prying, cynical 
 leer, as if he sought to read, not the workings 
 of his neighbour's countenance, but the very 
 thoughts of his heart ; nor was it possible to 
 meet that glance, without becoming aware that 
 such was its object — we had almost said, with- 
 out being conscious that the object was at- 
 tained. 
 
 Time passed, and his nightly labours sufficed 
 not only to supply Allan with means of sub- 
 sistence during the day, but gave him hopes 
 of retrieving his fallen fortunes. There re- 
 mained, indeed, but one creditor from whom 
 he was not entitled to demand a release — that 
 creditor was Hatfield, who, though still for-
 
 2^2 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 bearing to the greatest degree, had dropped a 
 few hints of late, that restitution of sums lent 
 would be agreeable, and Allan determined that 
 even at the hazard of detection, he would seize 
 the first favourable opportunity that might 
 offer to satisfy him. Again fortune stood his 
 friend. A stranger, an accidental lodger at 
 Middemas*'s, chanced to commit himself to the 
 tender mercies of the club. From that in- 
 dividual, who staked his money rashly, and 
 appeared wholly ignorant of the chances, Al- 
 lan succeeded in winning several large sums, 
 which he carefully set aside, with the view of 
 putting all, at some convenient season, on a 
 single hazard. 
 
 It was on a bracing December night, the ten 
 o'clock drum having just begun to beat, and 
 the closes, lanes, and alleys of Auld Reekie still 
 affording a few minutes of safe passage to the 
 lounger, when Allan, who had sat later than 
 usual at a debauch, entered the Pandemonium 
 in Carrubber's Close, where he had already spent
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 223 
 
 SO much of bis time. It was an under-ground 
 flat, to which the victim descended by a 
 flight of stone steps, so narrow that two per- 
 sons could not by possibility pass one another, 
 and so steep, that the slightest blunder of foot- 
 ing must have precipitated him to the bottom. 
 To the uninitiated it presented the appearance 
 of an ordinary oyster-cellar; that is to say, a 
 mean apartment, fitted up with one or two 
 coarse tables, on which stood large dishes of 
 pandores, received the stray wanderer to a 
 rude hospitality — but the secrets of the place 
 lay beyond. Allan, indeed, scarcely paused to 
 look around him as he traversed this exterior 
 banqueting hall ; but passing through a door- 
 way in rear of the counter, entered at once 
 upon a totally different scene. 
 
 On each side of a long passage ran a suite 
 of two rooms, furnished solely with the view of 
 accommodating the lovers of sport. One, con- 
 taining a billiard-table, was lighted, according 
 to immemorial usage, by means of sconces fas-
 
 224 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 tened round the walls ; in another, dice and 
 dominoes, with their usual accompaniments, pre- 
 vailed; the remaining two were set apart for 
 the convenience of such gentlemen as might 
 prefer the more scientific diversion of cards. 
 They were, one and all, mean and filthy to the 
 greatest extent. Chairs, broken in the backs, 
 deal tables, stools and forms, composed the 
 furniture of these apartments. The floors 
 were bare, except that a coat of sand crimped 
 beneath the feet ; the walls and ceiling were 
 black and dingy — a hue to which the in- 
 cessant smouldering of tallow candles could 
 hardly fail to bring them ; while the atmo- 
 sphere, made up of every conceivable mixture 
 of horrid airs, struck to the vitals of him who 
 encountered it. Yet Lucky Bawden's in Car- 
 rubber's Close constituted, an hundred years 
 ago, the most fashionable place of resort to 
 the roues of the Scottish capital ; vice ap- 
 pearing there, and claiming her votaries, not 
 as now disguised under the garb of refine-
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 225 
 
 ment, but in her native deformity and coarse- 
 ness. 
 
 Neither dice nor billiards presented any 
 attractions to Allan, who cast but a passing 
 glance at the players, and walked forward to 
 the card-rooms. He entered the nearest, but 
 found that every table was occupied, by men 
 whose flushed countenances and breathless si- 
 lence told how engrossing was the interest 
 attached to their respective pursuits. Some- 
 what chagrined, and not without apprehension 
 that he had lingered too long over the supper- 
 table, he hurried on, and pushing open the 
 second door, looked round. There was one 
 table vacant here, and one only, beside which 
 five or six gentlemen were collected, as if 
 undetermined whether to take their seats or 
 to abstain. Allan advanced, for the purpose 
 of sharing in their deliberations, which he 
 would have decided at once, by proposing a 
 game at brag; but a second glance showed 
 him that both Hatfield and the strange En- 
 L 5
 
 226 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 glisliman were among them. A sudden qualm 
 came over him as his eye rested on the figure 
 of the former, and he stopped short. 
 
 " You are in excellent time,**' observed 
 Hatfield, addressing himself to Allan ; "^ we 
 were just about to commence operations with- 
 out you. Brag, too, your own brag is the 
 order of the night ; so come and take your 
 seat among us." Allan did not feign, for he 
 really felt a strong disinclination to accept 
 the challenge. Never, since the commence- 
 ment of his novel style of play, had he en- 
 countered Hatfield, under whose sardonic 
 gaze, indeed, he more than once felt his 
 courage quail ; and even now, though the 
 single choice lay between doing so and stand- 
 ing idle, he hung back. Nevertheless, the 
 raillery of his friends prevailed — he sat down 
 next to Hatfield, and disguising the agitation 
 which he found it impossible wholly to sup- 
 press, gave up his attention, as well as he 
 could, to the progress of the game.
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 227 
 
 For some time fortune appeared to deal out 
 her favours with great impartiality. Men won 
 and lost again, according as chance direct- 
 ed ; and Allan, like the rest, could count on 
 few gains, till the spirits of the party rising 
 with the progress of the game, bets were dou- 
 bled and trebled without hesitation. Cau- 
 tiously, yet with lynx-eyed care, Allan watch- 
 ed his opportunity. The reader need not be 
 told that there is no game upon the cards 
 which gives to the dealer greater facilities of 
 cheating, undetected, than brag. Allan turned 
 these to the very best account. Repeatedly 
 the ace of diamonds turned up to his own 
 hand, when the odds had been taken largely 
 that no such occurrence would befall; and 
 more than once it occurred that a pair of aces 
 fell to his share, even when others distributed 
 the cards. It was not to be wondered at if 
 Allan's confidence should increase in exact 
 proportion to his success. He played more 
 and more boldly, called for brandy-punch, of
 
 22S ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 which he drank a considerable portion, and 
 followed up his course of victory with great 
 effect, till his gains amounted to something not 
 far short of the sum which would have sufficed 
 to clear up the accounts between himself and 
 Hatfield. The goal was thus bi'ought dis- 
 tinctly within view, and in order to insure its 
 attainment, Allan urged his Pegasus to its last 
 degree of speed. 
 
 It so happened that throughout the even- 
 ing^s entertainment, Hatfield had uniformly 
 backed Allan in all his wagers. Allan now 
 challenged Hatfield with reference to a hand 
 which he was himself about to deal, and the 
 other accepted the challenge, to the amount of 
 all his adversary's winnings. The deal pro- 
 ceeded. The players had secured each his two 
 cards — the third was in the act of distribution 
 — indeed all, except Hatfield and Allan him- 
 self, had been supplied, when the former lean- 
 ing towards the dealer, said in a low whisper, 
 " Beware !" Allan shook in his chair. He
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 cast a hurried glance towards the speaker, 
 whose eagle-eye watched him with an acuteness 
 not to be deceived ; and after a vain effort 
 to recover his self-command, went on with the 
 game. Hatfield's card was high — it was the 
 ace of clubs — decidedly the best that had been 
 thrown ; and, as was usual on the occurrence 
 of such a piece of good luck, a murmur, ex- 
 pressive of different passions, burst from the 
 lookers on. Again Hatfield took advantage of 
 the momentary confusion. " It won't do with 
 me, throw away your hoarded diamond, or I 
 will expose you !" This was uttered in a sup- 
 pressed tone, yet it penetrated the brain of the 
 listener like an arrow. He did drop his hoard- 
 ed diamond, and turning up a five of hearts, 
 saw his gains pass on the instant, into the pos- 
 session of his former creditor. Allan's senses 
 became confused. He gasped for breath, and 
 leaning back in his chair, remained, for the 
 space of three seconds, totally unconscious of 
 all that was passing around him.
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 Perhaps there is not, throughout the com- 
 pass of what is called civilized society, a spec- 
 tacle more humiliating than that of a company 
 of persons engaged in deep play. Not only is 
 each regardless of the feelings of his neigh- 
 bour, but, as it would seem, blind to their very 
 existence ; for gestures the most extravagant, 
 and exclamations harrowing to common ears, 
 pass in such cases absolutely unheeded. Over- 
 whelming as Allan^s dismay and confusion 
 were, they escaped all eyes in that excited 
 assembly, save those alone beneath whose petri- 
 fying glance he found it impossible to hold 
 up. Yet it was to no purpose that he roused 
 himself to appear calm. His forehead burned 
 as he gazed elsewhere round the table, and 
 it became deadly cold again, when he observed 
 the hellish leer with which Hatfield watched 
 his very looks. His skill totally forsook him. 
 He played on, therefore, but it was abso- 
 lutely at random, without ingenuity, almost 
 without an aim. He accepted every bet that
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 2S\ 
 
 was offered, and we need scarcely add, that nine 
 out of ten proved unfavourable. Allan's brain 
 reeled, his throat was parched and dry, — he 
 called for brandy, and drank it off in despair. 
 But the measure to which he had recourse as 
 an immediate relief from misery, served only 
 to increase the fever that boiled in his blood. 
 He could not succeed in steeping his senses in 
 forgetfulness, so as to become callous even to 
 the events that passed around ; and hence, 
 though rendered fierce and dangerous to any 
 who might inadvertently thwart him, he was 
 still responsible for his actions, and liable to 
 be treated as one that was so. 
 
 Notice has been taken of the success which 
 for some time back had attended Allan's 
 play, more especially when he was opposed, as 
 chanced to be frequently the case, to the 
 strange gentleman, of whose very name he was 
 ignorant. To-night, the reverses of that indi- 
 vidual were amply and rapidly made good. 
 Instead of receiving the challenge, he gave it
 
 232 ALLAN BRECK, 
 
 with a tact obvious to all, save the party most 
 deeply interested ; and at the close of each 
 hand, Allan became more and more deeply his 
 debtor. At last a settlement of accounts was 
 demanded ; Allan held up his empty purse, and 
 uttering a few common places, customary on 
 such occasions, proposed to give, what he him- 
 self professed to consider as equivalent to 
 money, a promissory note. But the stranger 
 declined that species of security. He had no 
 wish to insinuate anything disrespectful of the 
 gentleman ; he did not doubt that the gentle- 
 man's bond was negociable anywhere, but he 
 always settled his own debts of honour in hard 
 cash, and he made a rule of treating others as 
 he desired to be treated by them. Allan's 
 eyes flashed fire. He struck the table vio- 
 lently with his clenched fist, and starting from 
 his seat, demanded to be informed whether his 
 credit were questioned. 
 
 " Undoubtedly not," replied the stranger 
 coolly. " No man can possibly call in ques-
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 233 
 
 tion the credit of one, beside whose chair 
 there lies even now security to a much larger 
 amount than the trifling sum due to me." 
 
 " It is your ace of diamonds," whispered 
 Hatfield ; " the fellow has somehow seen it. 
 Collect yourself, or you are undone for ever !" 
 
 With the speed of thouglit, Allan planted 
 his foot upon the fallen card^ and resumed his 
 seat, in a frame of mind that beggars all de- 
 scription. Baffled, detected, on the ver}^ brink 
 of exposure, stripped of all his gains, and 
 plunged more deeply than before into diffi- 
 culties, it is no wonder if he should have re- 
 garded his situation as one that admitted of 
 no remedy. It was to no purpose that he 
 made several eflbrts even to speak. His tongue 
 clove to the roof of his mouth — he could only 
 fix a vacant and glassy stare upon the stran- 
 ger's face, and remained silent. 
 
 " I think. Sir," interposed Hatfield, ad- 
 dressing himself to the importunate winner, 
 '* that you scarcely deal with this gentleman as
 
 234 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 his case deserves. You see that his ready 
 money is gone, yet you object to receive the 
 only equivalent for ready money which it is in 
 his power to offer. I can only say, that were 
 I in your situation, I would take his note-of- 
 hand freely." 
 
 " Then you will not, mayhap, object to add 
 your signature to his ?" rejoined the party ap- 
 pealed to. 
 
 " We are not in the habit here of requiring 
 security for debts of honour," replied Hatfield 
 coldly, '' nor would it become me to innovate 
 on the customs of the place. But rather than 
 see a man of honour put to inconvenience, I 
 would myself become his banker, did he re- 
 quest it." 
 
 " Will you indeed ?" asked Allan in a low 
 and husky tone. " After what you have seen 
 to-night, will you again befriend me ?" 
 
 " I will," rejoined Hatfield in a whisper, 
 '* notwithstanding all that is passed ; sign this 
 blank bond, which we can fill up at our leisure
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 235 
 
 — we are pretty much at home by this time in 
 the form — and the means of stopping that 
 scoundrel's mouth are yours." 
 
 " How shall I ever be able to repay your 
 kindness ?" exclaimed Allan, eagerly grasping 
 at the paper, and affixing to it his signature. 
 
 " Leave all that to me," rejoined Hatfield, 
 as he put the deed in his pocket, " and pay 
 him what you owe, for God's sake. The cur 
 yelps after his money like an untrained beagle 
 after a drag." 
 
 Allan took with a trembling hand the purse 
 that his companion conveyed to him, and told 
 out the amount of his losses to the last guinea ; 
 but neither his strength of body nor vigour of 
 mind carried him farther. He started from 
 his seat, and hurrying through the room, 
 rushed with the step of a maniac into the 
 street.
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 The bells of several churches struck two as 
 Allan emerged from the head of Carrubber'*s- 
 Close and entered upon the High-street. It was 
 a clear, calm, frosty night in December ; the 
 moon sailing bright and beautiful amid a host 
 of attendant planets, shed over tower and 
 town a flood of mellowed light. St. Giles, 
 with its picturesque and elegant crown, glit- 
 tered like a thing of silver ; the tall houses, 
 some in bold relief, others in deep shade, 
 assumed the character rather of a painting 
 than a reality ; nay, even the Luckenbooths 
 stood forward, with their rougher points soften- 
 ed down, as objects of admiration. Yet was
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 237 
 
 Allan alike unconscious of the splendid beauty 
 of the night, and of the magnificent architectu- 
 ral scenery by which he was surrounded. He 
 looked up into the deep blue sky, but his 
 thoughts were all earthly ; he gazed upon the 
 moon, but it was with the vacant stare of a 
 man careless or ignorant of all external ob- 
 jects ; and though his pace gradually slackened, 
 the turmoil and tumult of his brain went on as 
 fiercely as before. Allan felt that he was 
 every way a ruined man ; and he who feels 
 this is necessarily indifferent to all other con- 
 siderations, either of mind or matter. 
 
 Unconsciously, he had taken the direction 
 that conducted towards his home, and was al- 
 ready advanced within a few yards of the head 
 of the Wynd, when a hand laid gently upon 
 his shoulder arrested his farther progress. 
 Allan started, grasped at the hilt of his sword, 
 and turned round, but instantly let it fall 
 again when he saw that it was Hatfield. 
 
 " You quitted us too abruptly," said the
 
 2S8 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 latter. *' Your losses were severe, I acknow- 
 ledge ; but fortune might have turned in your 
 favour in spite of all, had you trusted her a 
 little longer. Besides, you drew towards your- 
 self the eyes of the whole company, and the re- 
 sult has been the reverse of favourable to your 
 future chances." 
 
 " What matters it ?" replied Allan, in a low 
 and husky tone. " What have I to do with 
 future chances ? I played my last card to-night, 
 and played it fatally. I am utterly ruined, 
 and you know that I am so !" 
 
 " It is too true," replied Hatfield, his voice 
 softening into the accents of commiseration ; 
 " that unlucky attempt, of which from my 
 soul I regret taking any notice, has, I am 
 afraid, destroyed you for ever. How came 
 you to try so stale a trick upon me? and above 
 all, why leave the proofs of your intended jug- 
 gle within the reach of a whole company ?" 
 
 " What do you mean ?" demanded Allan. 
 
 " Mean ? why, that in your hurry you left
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 239 
 
 the ace of diamonds where you dropped it, to 
 enlighten the gulls all round as to the means 
 which have been used in fleecing them." 
 
 " God of heaven ! what do I hear?" exclaim- 
 ed Allan ; " I am discovered then, known to all 
 men as a cheat and a swindler, — is it not so ?" 
 
 " I cannot deny it," replied Hatfield ; " nor 
 may I conceal from you, that the less you 
 show yourself in public, at least for a time, the 
 better." 
 
 Allan staggered against the wall of a house, 
 and groaned heavily. He had imagined the 
 cup of his misfortunes to be full ere this terri- 
 ble announcement was made ; he now acknow- 
 ledged that it needed one drop more to pro- 
 duce an overflow. But he was not left abso- 
 lutely to his despair. Hatfield drew his arm 
 through his, and in the kindest manner en- 
 treated him to bear up even under this last and 
 most tremendous blow. " Your situation is 
 not an enviable one, Mac Diarmid ; at least, it 
 is not one which those would envy by whom
 
 ^40 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 the smiles of the world are greatly valued. I 
 know not how far this may be your case, but 
 for myself, as it has not been my fortune to 
 experience much of the world's kindness, I have 
 long learned to look with perfect indifference 
 upon its hate. You must do so also, and then 
 the world and you will be on equal terms.'' 
 
 Allan answered only with another groan. 
 
 " But I speak, perhaps," continued Hat- 
 field, '' to one brought up in the lap of luxury, 
 and accustomed from childhood to all the en- 
 dearments of domestic life. To you, love has 
 doubtless been propitious. The bonds of 
 friendship have encircled you ; ease, comfort, 
 station, respectability, are your's ; prospects of 
 perfect happiness, of an old age spent with the 
 object of your boyish passion, amid the caresses 
 of children's children — all these things have 
 hitherto rendered life agreeable, and as a neces- 
 sary consequence, given value to the world's 
 good opinion. If it be so, then indeed I 
 speak to little purpose ; for "
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 241 
 
 '* If it be so !" cried Allan, and he laughed 
 loud and bitterly. " Ay, if it be so indeed. 
 But it is not so. No, Hatfield, you see before 
 you a wretch, accursed from his infancy, 
 branded by his Maker as an outcast, shunned 
 and hated by his kindred, the object of loathing 
 and disgust to — to — to — God ! what have I to 
 do with the world ? what are its smiles or its 
 frowns to me ? I tell you that I hate all man- 
 kind ; and that if I regret this terrible expo- 
 sure at all, it is because it robs me of the means 
 of wreaking my vengeance upon the accursed 
 race." 
 
 " Aha !" exclaimed Hatfield exultingly ; 
 " does the land lie thus ? Why then, cheer 
 thee, my friend : we are brothers in wrong — we 
 shall be brothers in revenge also — that is, if 
 you are willing to put yourself into my hands, 
 and to be guided by my counsels." 
 
 Allan looked at the speaker, over whose fea- 
 tures a strong ray of moonlight chanced to fall. 
 There was a remarkable expression there — not 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 24:2 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 SO much of pity, though the tones of his voice 
 were evidently modelled to that feeling, as of 
 anxiety ; and, as it appeared to Allan, of sub- 
 dued, yet palpable triumph. On any other 
 occasion, the young man would have turned 
 away from that glance in disgust ; but now, a 
 thorough sense of his own degradation, accom- 
 panied by a deadly rancour towards the whole 
 animated creation, made him indifferent to all 
 minor considerations. " And what would you 
 with me ?" demanded he. " I am too much 
 indebted to you already ; add but this act of 
 kindness more, and I am your slave for ever !*" 
 " No, no !" replied Hatfield ; " not my slave, 
 but my friend ! You shall go foot for foot 
 with me in the prosecution of many glorious 
 undertakings. Society shall be our world of 
 action — its members our prey ; and we, like 
 Lords of the forest, will hunt them as we 
 need them. Does the one desire the attain- 
 ment of any particular object ? — the counsel, the 
 purse, the arm of the other are ready to forward
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 243 
 
 it. Does the other seek to wipe out the me- 
 mory of some wrong ? — his friend will return the 
 obligation — ay, were it even in the blood of his 
 own father. These are the terms en which we 
 may live, on which we shall live, provided you 
 have courage enough to cast yourself entirely 
 free from certain scruples, which are too apt to 
 hold even the bravest minds in thraldom."" 
 
 '' Hatfield," replied Allan sternly, *• I am a 
 desperate man, and your proposals are such as 
 you would not venture to make except to a 
 desperate man. But I accept them without 
 reserve. Lower than I am already, even 
 in my own estimation, I cannot fall. The 
 world has set a mark of exclusion against my 
 name. Those whom I love with the purest 
 devotion, hate me. I have many wrongs to 
 avenge upon my species, and I am yours." 
 
 " You answer as I expected," rejoined Hat- 
 field ; *' yet even now I would not hurry you 
 into any rash engagement of which you might 
 afterwards repent. Take time to consider 
 M 2
 
 244 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 what you are about to do, and weigh well the 
 sacrifices which you must make. Are you of 
 the number of weak mortals that believe in the 
 excellence of what is called ' truth ?' But I 
 need not ask that question. No man plays 
 as you have done these last two months, till he 
 has learned to estimate as they deserve, the 
 high-sounding phrases, ' honour,' and 'pro- 
 bity.'" 
 
 " There is too much justice in what you 
 say," replied Allan, while he shrank at the 
 same time from the admission ; " my deeds 
 speak for me, — I have neither honour nor pro- 
 bity to renounce." 
 
 " It is well ; for believe me, that never did 
 the craft of knaves invent bugbears more per- 
 fectly contemptible, when examined closely. 
 Then there is gratitude — another fool's bau- 
 ble — how may it operate with you ? Would 
 the remembrance of kindnesses done long ago, 
 restrain you from seeking an immediate gain or
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 245 
 
 gratification, by sacrificing, if need be, your 
 fancied benefactor ?" 
 
 " I owe no human being the recompense 
 even of thanks," replied Allan, " except it be 
 yourself, and — my poor mother. Bid me not 
 do wrong to her, — and with all besides, use me 
 as you will." 
 
 " Your mother !" ejaculated Hatfield, with 
 a slight intimation of contempt : " we make no 
 war upon women, except for their own benefit. 
 But, omitting your mother from our list, tell me, 
 does the child's night-mare conscience exercise 
 so strict a dominion over you, as that the mere 
 tie of relationship should stand between you 
 and your wishes .?" 
 
 " My nearest relative is my deadliest foe," 
 replied Allan fiercely ; " yet there are reasons 
 why I should deal tenderly by him. I would 
 not willingly injure the father of one — 
 whom " 
 
 '' Oh, I see what you mean," interrupted
 
 g46 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 Hatfield, " and I acknowledge the justice of 
 your reasoning. You are personally concerned 
 in stifling a passion which under other cir- 
 cumstances you would indulge. In plain lan- 
 guage, it is more agreeable to your own feel- 
 ings that you should abstain from cutting your 
 relative's throat, than that you should cut it.'*'' 
 
 " You are a strange inquisitor," rejoined 
 Allan, smihng bitterly, "but not the less acute 
 on that account. God knows, I owe little either 
 to him or her, yet I could not wrong a hair 
 of his head, did life itself depend upon my 
 doing so.'' 
 
 " Well, well ! so long as you are wise 
 enough to resolve everything into the grand 
 leading principle of human action, it matters 
 not, as far as our compact is concerned, how 
 that principle shall operate in particular cases. 
 Reverse this picture then, and imagine that the 
 ruin of your enemy — ay, or even his death — 
 would put you in possession of this parti- 
 cular prize which you so much covet. Have
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 247 
 
 you courage enough to attempt the one, or 
 effect the other ?'' 
 
 Allan paused for a moment, as if weighing 
 the jewel against its price ; and then said in 
 a hurried accent, " There is no crime that I 
 would not perpetrate in order to secure the 
 prize to which you allude." 
 
 " All this is well ; and now I have but one 
 more question to put. You say that you are a 
 desperate man, and I believe that you are so, as 
 far at least as a total derangement of his pecuni- 
 ary affairs can render any man desperate ; for 
 there are in my hands bills and bonds to an 
 amount far beyond what I take to be your means 
 of settlement. In character, too, you are utter- 
 ly ruined. There is not a frequenter of Baw- 
 den's that would speak to you ; you cannot 
 presume to show your face there ; and from the 
 other haunts, of what is called society, you 
 have long been excluded. I gather likewise, 
 from your own lips, that your mistress is un- 
 kind, your friends faithless, and yourself an
 
 248 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 abject. I believe, therefore, that you say no 
 more than the truth when you speak of your 
 case as jdesperate." 
 
 " And why throw all this m my teeth ?*" de- 
 manded Allan, as his whole frame shook with 
 contending passions. " Have I not acknow- 
 ledged that I was desperate? — what gratifica- 
 tion can arise to you from thus breaking the 
 very bones of your victim on the rack ?" 
 
 " Gratification ! none whatever. I merely 
 recapitulated certain facts as affording ground 
 to believe, that you took no more gloomy view 
 of your own condition than it deserved. I 
 would not willingly inflict pain upon one 
 whose case I commiserate from the bottom of 
 my heart, and whom I desire to befriend to the 
 utmost of my power. Answer me then; des- 
 perate as your fortunes are — scorned by those 
 whom you love, shunned even by your com- 
 panions in vice, does there linger in your mind 
 any womanish pity for the race to which you 
 belong — any more than womanish reluctance
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 249 
 
 to seek, from henceforth, your own ends, no 
 matter by what means, so as they are attained ?" 
 
 " I repeat, that I feel as a desperate man, 
 and as a desperate man I am prepared to act." 
 
 '' And then as to the phantom of which 
 priests talk — that future state, which no man 
 has ever seen — that retribution, of which, in 
 this world at least, proofs so scanty are ex- 
 hibited — are you capable of looking upon that 
 with the eye of reason ?" 
 
 " If by looking at these things with the eye 
 of reason you mean an absolute disbelief in the 
 existence of a Providence, and a world beyond 
 the present, as yet, Hatfield, I have not ac- 
 quired your philosophy." 
 
 " I am not surprised at that," rejoined Hat- 
 field, sneeringly. " This same Providence has 
 dealt so bountifully towards you, that it were 
 ill your part to dispute its supremacy ; — 
 and then your prospects in that particular 
 world — which I have never seen, and from 
 which, as far as I can learn, no specific mes- 
 M 5
 
 250 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 sage has yet been received — are so very bril- 
 liant, that it were strange indeed, could you be 
 brought to barter them away for any sublu- 
 nary gratification. The martyrs were fools, 
 compared to such as you, for they sacrificed 
 only life — you all the pleasures that can make 
 life valuable." 
 
 " I am no fit subject for any man's raillery,*" 
 exclaimed Allan, " and I warn you to beware 
 how you exercise the talent upon me. My 
 belief or disbelief is a matter for my own consi- 
 deration alone. As far as you are concerned, 
 it may suffice to know, that I can set God as 
 well as man at defiance, and that I have done 
 so already."" 
 
 " Well, well,'' replied Hatfield, " we will 
 not continue the subject farther to-night. 
 You have opened out your feelings sufficiently 
 to assure me, that our sentiments on most sub- 
 jects accord ; it may be, that we shall become 
 still more intimately connected by and by. 
 In the mean while I would not have you judge
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 251 
 
 too harshly either of me, or of the species of 
 contract into which I desire to lead you ; for 
 though to attain our objects we must be guided 
 by a moral code of our own, that code is 
 founded strictly on the dictates of nature. At 
 all events I have been, and still wish to be, 
 your friend. Go home, and let the reflection 
 that you have one friend in the world, com- 
 fort you in your miseries. Avoid public places 
 for a time — it may be troublesome to you to be 
 recognized, — and when you stand in need of 
 advice or assistance, demand both from me, 
 and they shall be afforded. And now, good 
 night!" 
 
 " One word more," exclaimed Allan, as he 
 held the hand which the other extended to- 
 wards him. " Though your language is strange, 
 and your manner startling, I would not part 
 from you without knowing when and where we 
 are to meet again. How shall I proceed, cut 
 off as I am from our accustomed haunts, in 
 order to discover you ?""
 
 252 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 " When you desire to see me again — that is, 
 so soon as you have made up your mind either 
 to accept or to reject the alliance which I prof- 
 fer, come to the ruins of St. Anthony's chapel, 
 two hours before midnight : whistle twice, and 
 unless there occur something extraordinary to 
 prevent it, your signal shall not remain long 
 unanswered. Once more, good night !" 
 
 As he spoke, Hatfield extricated his hand 
 from Allan's grasp, crossed over to the darken- 
 ed side of the way, and darting down one of 
 the lanes or closes that branch off towards the 
 Lawn Market, was lost to the view in a mo- 
 ment. Allan stood still for a few minutes to 
 recover his composure, and then hurrying for- 
 ward, let himself quietly into his lodging.
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 253 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 It is necessary that we should interrupt, for 
 a brief space, the thread of our history, by 
 carrying back the reader to the sequestered 
 haunts of Glenarroch, and laying before him 
 a general outline of the events which befell 
 there, subsequently to the departure of Allan 
 Breck for the low country. 
 
 It will be seen from the account which has 
 already been given of the parting interview be- 
 tween Allan and his mother, that a new light 
 broke in upon the mind of the latter, so soon 
 as she had made herself mistress of the real 
 state of her son^s feelings. The irregularities
 
 254 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 in his conduct, which all her partiality had 
 failed to conceal, were now sufficiently ac- 
 counted for. His moodiness — the irritability 
 of temper which he occasionally displayed — his 
 distate for home, and the society of the gentle- 
 men of the clan — were no longer mysterious to 
 her. The young man loved — his suit had 
 been rejected, — and high-spirited as he was, 
 who could wonder that he should seek to 
 escape from the mortification of his own 
 thoughts, were it in dissipation itself ? No ; if 
 Allan were really what his enemies represented 
 him to be, and that he stood not wholly clear 
 from the charges was certain — the misfortunes 
 could be attributed to one cause alone. Re- 
 move that cause, and the disease arising out of 
 it would cease. Allan must be saved— no mat- 
 ter at what sacrifice on the part of all the 
 world besides. 
 
 We stated some time ago, that on the morn- 
 ing of that day which witnessed the commence- 
 ment of her son''s journey, Mrs. Mac Diarmid
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 255 
 
 had spent some time in private conference with 
 Parson Neil. Of the purport of that interview, 
 it is scarcely necessary that any detailed notice 
 should be taken. Aware of the deep-rooted 
 affection which the Parson bore to her hus- 
 band's memory, and convinced that, if he de- 
 sired one thing upon earth more than another, 
 it was the welfare of the house which had so 
 long sheltered him, she did not scruple to lay 
 bare to him a good deal, at least, of the project 
 which occupied her own mind. She told him 
 exactly how Allan was situated — she implored 
 him to assist with his advice and influence, in 
 removing what she could not but consider as 
 the groundless prejudices of her niece ; and she 
 pointed out, that not the peace of mind alone, 
 but the respectability and eternal welfare of 
 her son depended on the accomplishment of 
 that object. She was not deceived in the 
 estimate which she had formed of the decree 
 of interest with which the Parson would listen 
 to her tale. He heard her to an end with the
 
 256 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 most profound attention, and then entreating 
 her to believe, that, if by the sacrifice of his 
 own life he could promote the welfare of his 
 benefactor's orphan, he would cheerfully lay 
 his head on the block, he proceeded to discuss 
 the particular question then under consider- 
 ation. 
 
 " You speak of my influence and advice in 
 removing your niece"'s prejudices. Alas ! my 
 dear madam, how little would either avail. 
 Besides, though I am ready to make any per- 
 sonal sacrifice in your son's favour, is it possi- 
 ble for me, as a man of honour and a clergy- 
 man, to recommend the committal of Marcel- 
 ly's happiness to the care of Allan — as he is 
 now ?" 
 
 " And why is he what you represent him to 
 be ? Have I not proved to you that his irre- 
 gularities, or vices, if you will, all originate in 
 one source .f^ Make him what he once was — 
 give him back that personal beauty of which
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 257 
 
 the hand of God deprived him, and let Mar- 
 celly look upon him with the same eyes which 
 she turned towards him ere that calamity befell, 
 and if I know aught of my boy's disposition at 
 all, he will be every way worthy to become 
 the guardian of her happiness, or of that of 
 any other woman that breathes." 
 
 " It may be so," replied Parson Neil, 
 " though you must pardon me, if I add, 
 that many symptoms of a wayward temper 
 showed themselves previous to the occurrence 
 of the misfortune to which you allude. But, 
 however that may be, is it not right that he 
 should first of all give proof of an inclination 
 to curb his humours, before she shall be so- 
 licited to link her fate with his? And even 
 then, who can hope to control a woman's will 
 in such a case as this .^" 
 
 " Is it by you that I am to be answered 
 thus?" demanded the lady, in a tone which 
 partook as much of wounded confidence as of
 
 258 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 offended pride. '' I did flatter myself that 
 Neil Macpherson would have accounted a 
 woman's will, particularly on such a subject, 
 as nothing, when brought into competition 
 with the eternal welfare of his friend's or- 
 phan.'' 
 
 " I have told you before, madam, and I 
 repeat the statement, that gladly would I per- 
 form any thing of which a man of honour is 
 capable, were my doing so to promote your 
 happiness, or that of your son. But have I 
 the power to aid you here.? What influence 
 have I over the maiden .?" 
 
 " Much more, perhaps, than any other per- 
 son that lives. You have trained her to habits 
 of gentleness and self-denial ; you have taught 
 her that her own comforts ought to be freely 
 sacrificed, in order to promote the welfare of 
 others. She has, on all previous occasions, 
 believed your assertions, and acted on the prin- 
 ciples which you have inculcated. Tell her 
 that an opportunity offers now of practising that
 
 ALLAN ERECK. 259 
 
 great lesson, which it behoves her, for her souFs 
 health, not to neglect. Assure her that the 
 eternal, as well as the temporal welfare of 
 Allan — nay, that my temporal and eternal wel- 
 fare — the eternal welfare of one who shielded 
 her infancy, and was to her more than a 
 mother, hang in the balance. Adjure her, as 
 she values her own peace of mind, not to 
 reject the boy's suit. Is he not every way 
 worthy of her — is he not already bone of her 
 bone, and blood of her blood ?''"' 
 
 " Indeed, my dear madam, you impose upon 
 me a task, to which I am not competent ; and 
 from which, if I be any judge of human cha- 
 racter, no good result could accrue. Marcelly 
 is a gentle, but she is a high-spirited and 
 right-thinking girl. She has heard more of 
 your son's vices than you have done ; nor is 
 she one to be persuaded that her duty de- 
 mands from her such a sacrifice as you would 
 have me urge her to make. No, no, madam, 
 I cannot undertake to address her as you wish;
 
 260 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 and I am sure that were I to do so, my en- 
 treaties would not avail."** 
 
 " Neil Macpherson," said the lady solemnly, 
 "am I to believe that you do really desire the 
 welfare of my house above all other earthly 
 things ?" 
 
 " I could not till this moment harbour a 
 suspicion that you should have doubted it." 
 
 " You say that you are ready to lay down 
 your life in our service. That we do not 
 require — but would you sacrifice something 
 less than life — would you put violence on your 
 own feelings for a time, in order to benefit us 
 for ever .'*" 
 
 " There is no sacrifice of personal feel- 
 ing that I am not ready to make in your 
 service." 
 
 " Is it quite certain that Marcelly can never 
 be persuaded to this union .^" 
 
 " So convinced am" I of that fact, that I 
 should account it the sheerest piece of folly to 
 enter upon the task of persuasion."
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 261 
 
 " Yet the match would be advantageous to 
 her in a worldly point of view. Allan is 
 an only child — there are neither sisters nor 
 younger brothers to be portioned off; and the 
 lands, though somewhat wasted, are wide, and 
 the followers faithful. 
 
 " All this is true, madam, yet I question 
 whether the circumstances would weigh one jot 
 in guiding Marcelly's determination." 
 
 " And as to his vices, as you call them — 
 what are they ? The mere ebullitions of youth. 
 Follies, excesses, which years will certainly 
 check ; and which need but this single act to 
 destroy them in the bud. His heart is good, 
 and his disposition noble — is it not so.^" 
 
 " I am willing to believe that you say no 
 more of him than he deserves." 
 
 " Well then, you cannot imagine that a 
 young woman is hurried into a connexion 
 unfavourable to her own happiness, if she be 
 prevailed on to wed a man so circumstanced. 
 You are neither so young nor so romantic as
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 to believe, that love before marriage is essential 
 to happiness afterwards." 
 
 " There may be, and I doubt not are, 
 many cases, where persons marrying as you 
 describe, have found no reason to regret that 
 they did so." 
 
 " Well then, taking all this for granted ; 
 and presuming always — what has not yet been 
 proved — that the girl were inexorable to ar- 
 gument and entreaty, you could not say that 
 any serious wrong was done, were a little 
 gentle compulsion exercised in bending her to 
 her own advantage. Such things have oc- 
 curred before now on the north side of the 
 Grampians." 
 
 " I am not ignorant,"" replied Parson Neil 
 coldly, " that this and other outrages have 
 been perpetrated in our country. But I never 
 heard the practice defended ; and I trust that I 
 shall not hear of its being renewed." 
 
 Mrs. Mac Diarmid looked at Parson Neil 
 with a stern yet penetrating glance. She
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 26S 
 
 saw that his brow was darkened ; and con- 
 scious that she had gone somewhat farther 
 than it was prudent to do, she strove to divert 
 his suspicions from her real design. 
 
 '* You mistake," said she ; " I am far from 
 vindicating the deed, when perpetrated, as it 
 has been, by open violence. I spoke only of 
 such compulsion as a parent has a right to 
 exercise, and to which a child that knows her 
 duty never fails to submit."" 
 
 " I am the last man in the world,"" replied 
 the Parson, the frown passing from his coun- 
 tenance, " to impose limits on the paternal 
 authority. There is but one power superior 
 in degree to that of a father over his child — 
 the power of the Creator over the creature. 
 So long as the earthly parent shall exercise 
 his undoubted privilege, subject to the will of 
 the common Parent of all, neither human laws, 
 nor what is termed public opinion, have a 
 right to interfere. But it is the first law of 
 nature, that a parent shall not exercise cruelty
 
 264} ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 towards his offspring; and you, my dear 
 madam, would be loud in condemning the 
 monster that disregarded that law." 
 
 " It may be so,*" rejoined the lady hurriedly, 
 " though much depends on the interpretation 
 put upon the phrase cruelty. However, we 
 will not discuss the subject farther. I have 
 told you how both Allan and myself are cir- 
 cumstanced; that his happiness, nay his re- 
 spectability, depends on his union with Mar- 
 celly ; and that I cannot know a minute's 
 peace while I am aware that he is miserable. 
 I ask of you no more than that you will join 
 your influence with mine in seeking to bring 
 about an event which will render the widow 
 and the orphan of Norman Mac Diarmid 
 happy; which cannot affect injuriously any 
 human being besides. Am I justified in ad- 
 vancing this petition ? — is it such as you can 
 conscientiously grant .?"" 
 
 " I cannot tell you, my dear madam, how 
 much I am distressed, both by the terms of
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 265 
 
 your request, and the manner in which you 
 urge it. You ask me to use my influence 
 towards the attainment of one particular ob- 
 ject, with which any interference in me would 
 be justly considered by the other party as 
 impertinent ; and you press the matter, as if 
 with me rested the power to decide one way or 
 the other. How am I to answer you ? If I 
 say that I cannot accomplish your wishes, you 
 will doubt my inclination to obey you. If 
 I say that I will not so much as endeavour 
 to cheat a young girl, whom I love as my own 
 daughter, into the perpetration of a deed 
 against which her heart recoils, you will ac- 
 cuse me of base ingratitude towards the house 
 of my patron and benefactor. And above all, 
 you address me in the tone, and with the 
 manner of a suppliant. How am I to meet 
 all this ? For God's sake, spare me the pain 
 of meeting it at all ; and if my advice have 
 any value in your eyes, abstain, at least for 
 the present, from prosecuting your design far- 
 VOL. I. N
 
 266 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 ther. As Allan's character now stands, neither 
 Marcelly nor her father would listen to the 
 proposed union for a moment. Let a year or 
 two pass over his head — let him acquire other 
 and better habits in the place to which he is 
 going, and then leave the young people to 
 arrange the matter for themselves. Marcelly 
 is a sensible girl. The mere defects in his 
 features will never weigh with her in an af- 
 fair of so much importance; nor is it im- 
 possible, that when she finds her cousin what 
 he ought to be, in reputation and moral con- 
 duct, the partiality of her childhood may re- 
 vive. At all events, do not urge me, under 
 existing circumstances, to stand forward as 
 the advocate of one, my first duty towards 
 whom is reproof and correction.'*' 
 
 Mrs. Mac Diarmid saw, that to continue 
 the subject with -one who entered into it so 
 unwillingly, would serve no purpose. She, 
 therefore, observed, with a good deal of bit- 
 terness, that she had expected other things at
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 267 
 
 his hand ; but that, doubtless, he knew best 
 how far it became him to interfere in matters 
 of so much delicacy. She then led the way 
 to the parlour, where, as has been already 
 shown, breakfast was consumed in no very 
 cheerful or talkative mood by any of the 
 party. 
 
 N 2
 
 268 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 Mortified at the failure of an attempt on 
 the success of which she had confidently re- 
 lied, Mrs. Mac Diarmid abstained for a while, 
 after her son's departure, from seeking any 
 other indirect means of influencing the inclina- 
 tions of her niece. She controlled herself, 
 moreover, so far as to shun a direct appeal 
 either to Marcelly or her father ; towards both 
 of whom, indeed, she began to experience 
 feelings diff'erent from those which were wont 
 to animate her. But the heart-rending and 
 sorrowful letters which at intervals reached 
 her from Edinburgh, gradually overcame her
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 269 
 
 scruples. Both pride and prudence gave way 
 under the influence of strong maternal affec- 
 tion ; and though her heart revolted at the 
 thought, she determined to become herself a 
 suitor to the girl whom she had reared as her 
 own. 
 
 Marcelly, whose affection for her aunt fell 
 short only of the love which she bore to her 
 father — if, indeed, it fell short even of that — 
 spent a portion of every day at Glenarroch. 
 The cloud which sat on her relative's brow, 
 and which she naturally attributed to grief 
 occasioned by the separation from her son, the 
 kind-hearted girl strove by the display of a 
 thousand winning arts to dispel ; and soured as 
 Mrs. Mac Diarmid''s feelings were, the natural 
 attentions of her niece did not always fail of 
 producing their effect. There were moments, 
 indeed, when the associations connected with 
 times gone by exercised their full force over 
 her ; and she would kiss Marcelly through her 
 tears and pray Heaven to bless her ; yet the
 
 270 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 recollection of Allan's miseries would return 
 even while the words were on her lips, and 
 she would shrink back from the embrace which 
 she had herself invited. All this occasioned 
 much distress, as well as a good deal of 
 anxiety to Marcelly, who would not permit 
 herself to believe, either that Allan had made 
 a confidant of his mother, or that, if he had, 
 the circumstance could produce the slightest 
 chano^e in her aunt's sentiments. 
 
 It was on a beautiful morning in October 
 when Marcelly and her aunt were strolling 
 along the margin of the loch, that the post, 
 a functionary who reached the district once 
 a fortnight, put a couple of letters into 
 the hand of the latter. She looked at the 
 superscriptions of both, and perceiving that 
 one came from Allan, she sat down upon a 
 rock and hastily opened it. As she read on, 
 Marcelly did not fail to perceive that the 
 expression of happy eagerness which pervaded 
 her countenance at first, gradually faded away.
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 271 
 
 A cast of bitter sorrow succeeded ; her cheek 
 flushed, and became pale again; and a single 
 tear, round, large, and unbroken, fell upon 
 the paper. ^Irs. Mac Diarmid was not ge- 
 nerally given to weep. Her passions, though 
 violent, rarely showed themselves as the pas- 
 sions of women are apt to do ; and perhaps 
 she suffered the more intensely, because her sor- 
 rows were secret. But on the present occa- 
 sion Nature had her way. She laid down the 
 letter upon her knees, and burying her face in 
 her hands, wept bitterly. 
 
 *' Dearest aunt,**"* exclaimed Marcelly, throw- 
 ing her arm round her relative's neck, and 
 joining her own tears with those which stole 
 from between the mourner's fingers — " do 
 not weep so. I never saw you shed tears 
 except when some dire calamity had befallen ; 
 for Heaven's sake dry them now, and what- 
 ever evil tidings that letter may bring, take 
 comfort — God may yet convert them into 
 
 joy-"
 
 272 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 *' Never, Marcelly," replied her aunt, sob- 
 bing bitterly. " There is no hope of joy for 
 the widowed bosom on this side the grave. 
 I am broken-hearted, Marcelly, and there is 
 but one being in existence that can heal the 
 wound — but from that quarter I have no 
 hope." 
 
 " Do not say so, dear aunt ; Allan may yet 
 become all that you could desire. He has 
 gone astray, I allow; but he is young, and a 
 little further intercourse with the world will 
 doubtless cure him of his weaknesses. He is 
 well, I trust, and happy." 
 
 " Of his health, Marcelly, I am told no- 
 thing ; I, therefore, presume that he is well — 
 but as to happiness — no, girl, Allan is the 
 most miserable wretch that breathes the air of 
 life." 
 
 " I hope not,"' replied Marcelly timidly, 
 " I am sure that he ought not to be so ; I do 
 not know any thing that can render him so, 
 except it be himself."
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 213 
 
 " There again you are in error, if, indeed, 
 I may speak of that as an error which is 
 hardly grounded in mistake. Allan is miser- 
 able, but his miseries may all be traced back 
 to another source than himself." 
 
 " He takes too much to heart the personal 
 deformity with which it has pleased Provi- 
 dence to visit him," replied Marcelly ; " but,'' 
 and her voice faltered, " I trust the time 
 may come when better thoughts shall enter 
 into his mind." 
 
 " Marcelly," said her aunt solemnly, " why 
 all this equivocation ? Why attribute an ef- 
 fect of which you are aware, to causes with 
 which it is in no way connected ? You, child 
 — you who were the companion of his boy- 
 hood — you, whom I nurtured with the same 
 care — whom I loved with the same tenderness 
 as if you had been my own — you, Marcelly, 
 are the cause of Allan's misery, and mine. 
 Allan loves you, doats upon you, and you 
 have rejected him !" 
 
 N 5
 
 27 4f ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 Marcelly gasped for breath, and was silent. 
 The tears which had chased each other down 
 her cheeks were arrested in middle course, and 
 she could only gaze upon her aunt with a 
 subdued and a beseeching eye. The latter 
 continued — 
 
 "•' Yes, Marcelly, I have at length com- 
 municated to you the secret which has preyed 
 upon my vitals ever since I became acquainted 
 with it; and unsuitable as the act may be, 
 here, on my bended knees, and in the sight 
 of Heaven, I implore you to take pity both 
 upon me and my son. By all the anxious 
 hours that I have devoted to your infancy; 
 by the many sleepless nights that I have spent 
 beside your cradle; by the endearments of 
 early days — the fondness which grew with 
 your growth, and strengthened with your 
 strength ; by that warm and motherly love 
 which I bear towards you still, I entreat you 
 to have mercy upon me ! Allan, my only 
 child — Allan, the son of your father's friend —
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 275 
 
 Allan, the widow's hope, woos you for his 
 bride. Reject him not, as you hope for peace 
 when you become a mother yourself, or de- 
 sire to save this overloaded heart from break- 
 ing." 
 
 " Oh rise, madam ! my dear dear aunt, rise, 
 I beseech, I entreat you. Let me kneel to 
 you ; but oh do not you kneel to me ! I 
 will do every thing that you wish — I will 
 become your menial — I will toil for you by 
 night and by day — I will cast myself, if you 
 desire it, into the deep water below our feet 
 — but oh, do not, do not ask me to become 
 Allan's wife!'' 
 
 '' And why not, girl .^" replied Mrs. Mac 
 Diarmid, rising. " Why not become the wife 
 of Allan ^lac Diarmid ? Is the blood in your 
 veins purer than his ? Has your father's name 
 been heard where his father's was unknown ? 
 Is he a bastard and an outcast, that you should 
 contract aught of contamination by linking 
 your fate with his ?"
 
 276 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 " No, no, dear aunt ; he is every way my 
 equal — my superior, if you will — for he is a 
 man, and I a weak girl. Yet I cannot be 
 his. No, no, I cannot, cannot, God is my 
 witness."" 
 
 " Cannot ! That is an expression which 1 
 do not understand. Say that you will not, 
 and then you speak plainly — no matter what 
 the consequences of your determination may 
 be." 
 
 " Alas, what an unfortunate creature am 
 I," exclaimed Marcelly, the tears again burst- 
 ing from their fountain, " to be the cause of 
 unhappiness, where I would lay down my life 
 to bring peace! Oh, my God, what have I 
 done, that I should be thus visited !" 
 
 " Yet it is in your power, dear Marcelly, 
 to heal the wound. I will not press you to 
 a pledge. I do not now ask you to give 
 your faith to Allan ; but at least assure me 
 that you will strive to overcome that an- 
 tipathy which has too much hindered you from
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 277 
 
 seeing him as others see him. You are not 
 a worldly girl, I know. I would not, there- 
 fore, speak to you of matters so debasing as 
 settlements ; but consider, I pray you, how a 
 union between your father's house and his 
 must affect the interests of both in this 
 country. And then, think, that not his hap- 
 piness alone, but his respectability, his cha- 
 racter, his souFs health itself, are all, all at 
 your mercy. Speak the word, Marcelly ; say 
 that you will give to my proposal more ma- 
 ture consideration, and that hereafter, be it 
 
 years hence " 
 
 " Oh no, no, dear aunt, press me no far- 
 ther," interrupted Marcelly ; " I cannot, may 
 not promise that which will never be fulfilled. 
 Allan knows the state of my feelings perfectly. 
 As a sister, as a friend, I will strive to regard 
 him, but more than that I could not do, were 
 life and death in the balance. Allan will see 
 in the Low Country girls fairer and more at- 
 tractive than me. Some one of these will drive
 
 ^78 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 my image from his thoughts ; and may God 
 grant that it be done speedily !'' 
 
 " It is well, Marcelly," replied her aunt 
 proudly, " it is very well. I am answered 
 as I deserved to be, when I so far forgot 
 myself as to bend these stubborn knees be- 
 fore my sister''s child. You reject my en- 
 treaties, you despise my arguments ; you hold 
 at nought the wretchedness which I have laid 
 open to you — perhaps somewhat too weakly. 
 But you mistake, girl. Allan's happiness is 
 not a thing to be thrown away for the in- 
 dulgence of a child's humour or a woman's 
 caprice. Your father shall take this matter 
 up ; and if his regard for the memory of one 
 who fought and bled that he might sleep 
 peaceably at home, be what he says it is, you 
 will find that a harder task awaits you than 
 the mere rejection of my counsels." 
 
 Mrs. Mac Diarmid turned away as she spoke, 
 and walked haughtily in the direction of Glen- 
 arroch. She drew back from the grasp with
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 279 
 
 which Marcelly would have detained her, and 
 paid no heed to the exclamation of profound 
 grief that burst from the maiden's lips. Mar- 
 celly was totally overcome. She shed tears 
 abundantly, and with a swelling heart and 
 tardy pace returned home. 
 
 For some days after the occurrence of this 
 adventure scarcely any intercourse took place 
 between the families at Glenarroch and Ard- 
 raore. Depending little upon that appeal to 
 which she had referred rather in pique than 
 under the serious expectation of profiting by 
 it, Mrs. Mac Diarmid experienced a strong 
 disinclination to hazard it, though she conti- 
 nued to hope almost against hope, with the 
 pertinacity which persons usually display when 
 driven, as it were, into a corner. Not that 
 she trusted all to the result of her brother-in- 
 law's interference. On the contrary, as she 
 had long harboured certain vague notions of 
 arrangements to be moulded into form only 
 in a last extremity, so she began now seriously
 
 280 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 to look around for fitting instruments by 
 which to realize her day-dreams. But before 
 any effectual steps could be taken towards 
 the accomplishment of these wishes, an ex- 
 planation was forced upon her, which over- 
 threw at once whatever of reliance she had 
 thus far ventured to repose on the par- 
 tiality of Ardmore towards the memory of his 
 friend. 
 
 The depression of spirits under which his 
 daughter laboured, as well as the sudden ces- 
 sation of her visits to her aunt, had not failed 
 to attract the attention of Ardmore. He de- 
 manded an explanation, which was given fully, 
 though not without some reluctance on the 
 part of Marcelly ; and anxious to set the 
 matter at rest for ever, he sought an imme- 
 diate interview with Mrs. Mac Diarmid. It 
 was not of the most conciliatory nature. His 
 nephew's delinquencies were too well known 
 to Fergus to render him over-delicate in the 
 tone of his remarks ; and, like his countrymen
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 281 
 
 in general, he was apt not to affix more than 
 their legitimate value upon the feelings even 
 of a mother. He flatly informed Mrs. Mac 
 Diarmid, that were Norman himself to rise 
 from the grave and request his consent to 
 the proposed union, he would refuse it. " It 
 is not that I think more harshly than need be 
 of the common follies and excesses of youth. 
 Many a wild colt has turned out a noble 
 war-steed, and Allan may, perhaps, redeem 
 even yet his character. But I tell you fairly, 
 sister, that rather than see Marcelly joined 
 to him as he is, I would follow her to her 
 grave. I should be sorry to hurt your feel- 
 ings — but such is my determination, and by 
 G— I will keep it !" 
 
 " And with what have you to charge Al- 
 lan, beyond the ordinary follies of youth ? Of 
 what has he been guilty, that even his 
 father's friend should turn his back upon 
 him .?" 
 
 " Guilty!" exclaimed Ardmore, warming as
 
 282 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 he went on ; " there is scarce a crime that 
 man could commit, there is not a meanness 
 into which man can fall, that he has not per- 
 petrated. What ! give my child to the tender 
 mercies of the most cruel and perfidious 
 monster that ever disgraced the name of Mac 
 Diarmid ! Go and ask old Donald Dhu where 
 his grandson lies, and bid him tell you who 
 sent him there. Inquire of Lochiel whether 
 this hopeful son of yours have not by his 
 violence and fraud endangered that which is 
 of more importance by far than all the blood 
 in his body. No, no, sister — the folUes of 
 youth may be got over, but murder, and 
 violence, and treachery to boot — not to men- 
 tion a depraved taste even in the choice of 
 associates — these do not come under the head 
 of youthful follies." 
 
 "Is it to me that all this is said," de- 
 manded the lady, with much warmth, " the 
 widow of Norman Mac Diarmid, and the mo- 
 ther of his son ? And am I thus reviled, and
 
 ALLAN BRECK. S83 
 
 the honour of my name impugned by one 
 who has received some kindness even at these 
 poor hands, when he most needed it ?" 
 
 " Sister, sister," replied Ardmore, " I mean 
 no offence to you ; I cast no reflection upon 
 your honour, or that of your name. I only 
 tell you in this private room what is openly 
 told by one to another throughout the whole 
 country ; and I do so from no other motive 
 than to convince you, if I can, that there 
 are strong reasons why I should put no force 
 on my daughter's inclinations. Zounds ! were 
 the young man as beautiful as Apollo, and 
 as noble in his nature as Lycurgus, I would 
 still leave the girl free to have him or refuse 
 him at her own pleasure." 
 
 " Then there remains no alternative," ejacu- 
 lated Mrs, Mac Diarmid, bitterly ; " I had 
 hoped that things would not come to this — 
 but God's will be done, I cannot help it." 
 
 " Ay, now you speak like a reasonable 
 woman," rejoined Fergus. " There is no
 
 284 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 help for it, indeed. It is a pity, pethaps, 
 that the boy should have taken this idle fancy 
 into his head, over and above all the other 
 crooked ways that he has ; but if the last 
 could be as easily set straight as the first, 
 we might yet expect to see him filling his 
 father's brogues. But however that may be, 
 there u no help for it. Marcelly shall choose 
 a husband for herself, when she is in the 
 mind, and neither you nor I will trouble our- 
 selves to choose one for her.'' 
 
 So saying, the good man rose, and perfectly 
 convinced in his own mind that he had brought 
 his sister to reason, wished her good morning. 
 "As to what I may have said about Allan's 
 infirmities, don't let that distress you. It is 
 too true every word of it — but he is away 
 from the reach of scandal now, and when he 
 returns, let us hope that he will come back a 
 new man. Marcelly shall spend her mornings 
 with you as usual, and her evenings too oc- 
 casionally. Only no more tormenting the girl
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 285 
 
 about Allan. All that is at an end, and, as 
 you justly observe, there is no help for it." 
 He had walked down the avenue all this while, 
 and before his sentence came to a close was 
 already considerably out of hearing.
 
 286 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 Every one who happens to have read Cap- 
 tain Burfs Letters from Scotland, or the late 
 excellent General David Stewart's " Sketches 
 of the Characters and Manners of his Country- 
 men,'"' must be aware that there existed among 
 the Scottish Highlanders a few generations 
 ago, ties not less enduring, in many instances 
 infinitely more tender, than those of mere 
 relationship. The children of a gentleman's 
 family were then rarely nursed at home, but 
 committed, for the most part, to the care of 
 some married woman, in whose fidelity the 
 parents could repose implicit confidence. As
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 287 
 
 the act of rearing the young laird was an 
 honour much coveted by all the retainers, so 
 the affection entertained towards him through 
 life, not by his nurse alone, but by her hus- 
 band and children, knew no bounds. The old 
 couple with the appellation of his foster father 
 and mother — their offspring recognized as his 
 foster brothers and sisters — claimed ever after 
 to hold the most important places about his 
 person ; and besides being honoured by the 
 clan, were ready at all moments to obey his 
 behest, no matter how great the sacrifices 
 they might be required personally to make. 
 Even life itself has been repeatedly given 
 away, not by one, but by a succession of 
 foster brothers, in order to secure the safety 
 of the chief; and as to any minor requisition, 
 it must be of a strange nature indeed, did 
 these, the devoted servants of his will, hesi- 
 tate to obey it. In one word, there was no 
 law of God or man — no bond of nature or of 
 habit, which they regarded with the degree
 
 288 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 of absolute devotion of heart and feeling be- 
 stowed upon their chief ; whose caprices they 
 would gratify, whose interests they would seek 
 to promote, through evil report as well as 
 good, by foul means as well as by fair. 
 
 As soon as her brother-in-law quitted her, 
 Mrs. Mac Diarmid, after devoting some mi- 
 nutes to deep, and as it appeared, painful 
 thought, threw a mantle about her shoulders, 
 and walked abroad. She took on this occasion 
 a direction opposite to that which she had 
 followed when Marcelly was her companion; 
 and crossing a low shoulder of the hill, at the 
 base of which the house of Glenarroch was 
 placed, descended into a bleak and boggy glen, 
 surrounded on all sides by mountains. At 
 the farther extremity of that wild hollow, stood 
 a single shieling, composed of loose stones, 
 partially daubed with clay, and roofed over 
 with bunches of long heather, laid one above 
 the other in the rudest possible manner. A 
 couple of apertures in the wall, partially stuffed
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 289 
 
 up with fragments of old plaiding, served to 
 admit as much of light and air as the inha- 
 bitants appeared to desire ; while a sort of 
 wicker or basket-work hurdle, supplied the 
 place of a door, beneath the lintel of which, 
 even a well-grown boy must stoop, ere he 
 could gain admittance. Not a tree nor a 
 shrub of any description grew around that 
 hovel. Garden, too, there was none, unless, 
 indeed, a patch of light soil, amid which some 
 abortive attempt had been made to rear a few 
 potatoes, may be considered as such ; for nei- 
 ther pot-herbs nor vegetables could find depth 
 enough of earth to grow ; and as to orna- 
 mental vegetation, that, of course, was wholly 
 out of the question. 
 
 Towards that miserable hovel, planted at 
 the farther extremity of an extensive moss- 
 hag, and closed in on three sides by a 
 rough and precipitous corry, Mrs. Mac Diar- 
 mid directed her steps. That the shieling 
 was inhabited, a thick volume of peat smoke, 
 
 VOL. I. o
 
 290 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 which issued as well from the windows as 
 from a hole in the centre of the roof, gave 
 evidence. Nevertheless, no living thing might 
 be seen to move about its locale. Neither 
 children nor pigs — no, not even the universal 
 attendants on a Highland bothy, a few barn- 
 door fowls, clustered around its site ; the 
 aspect of which conveyed, to the very extreme 
 of the feeling, a sense of utter and dreary 
 desolation. It appeared, however, that to the 
 dreary aspect of the place the lady was not 
 unaccustomed. She advanced firmly, and 
 pushing back the wicker door, found herself 
 at once admitted within the penetralia of this 
 dark abode. 
 
 For a moment or two, the effect of so sud- 
 den a passage from the clear light of day to 
 so dim an atmosphere, deprived her of the full 
 power of vision. She saw, indeed, burning in 
 the middle of the chamber, a dull turf fire ; 
 beside which, upon a low stool, sat a human 
 figure ; but the smoke which curled up to the
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 291 
 
 rafters, and then fell down again in dense 
 volumes, totally prevented her from deter- 
 mining whether the occupant was a man or 
 a woman. Nor, in truth, had she been a 
 stranger here, would her judgment have re- 
 ceived any effectual assistance from the tones 
 of a low wild song, which, in a cracked and 
 hoarse voice, the individual in question was 
 singing. But Mrs. Mac Diarmid was not a 
 stranger here. She advanced, after a moment's 
 pause, towards the fire, and laying her hand 
 on the singer's shoulder, said — 
 
 " Look up, Elspeth, look up, and listen. 
 There is evil to the house of Glenarroch, and 
 the widow of Mac Diarmid comes to thee for 
 advice and assistance." 
 
 " Oich, oich !" replied the old crone, raising 
 her sightless eyes towards the speaker ; " who 
 comes to old Elspeth now ? — who are you, and 
 what is it that you want ?'''' 
 
 " Do not you know me, Elspeth ? Has the 
 sound of my voice become so strange to your 
 o 2
 
 i^92 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 ears, that you cannot recognize it ? Have the 
 clouds of old age passed so thickly across your 
 eyes, that they are unable to distinguish your 
 own foster daughter ?" 
 
 " Is it indeed you, my honoured lady — my 
 own darling child ?"' cried the hag, rising as 
 she spoke, and extending her long, bony, and 
 smoke-dried hand towards Mrs. Mac Diarmid. 
 " What brings you to old Elspeth, and alone 
 too, without the following that befits the 
 widow of Mac Diarmid ? Alas ! were my brave 
 boys living now — But no matter, the sword 
 and the halter have left one to serve you still ; 
 and my curse shall wither him in his youth, 
 if he hold back in your hour of need. Sit, 
 lady, sit down and tell me all that affects you ; 
 for well I wot it is affliction only that drives 
 you to seek counsel of me." 
 
 " You have had but too much reason to 
 complain, Elspeth,"' replied Mrs. Mac Diarmid, 
 drawing a stool close to that of the old woman, 
 and sitting herself, in order that the other
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 293 
 
 might not be kept standing. " Mac Diarmid 
 was, perhaps, too strict, too stern if you will, 
 considering the relation in which the culprit 
 stood towards me, and as a necessary conse- 
 quence towards himself. But the deed is done 
 — it cannot now be recalled ; and the lapse of 
 sixteen long years has, I hoped, taught even 
 his mother to forget, that Hemish ^lac Ichan 
 died neither in the battle-field, nor in his bed."' 
 " Forget, lady !" exclaimed the old woman ; 
 •' think you that I shall ever forget ? Oh, 
 no, no ! The eagles love their brood, the 
 foxes love their young, and poor and old, and 
 despised though I be, my offspring are not less 
 dear to me than theirs are to them. Had he 
 perished as his brother did, in open and 
 fair battle — nay, had any mouth but that of 
 Norman Mac Diarmid sealed his doom — harsh, 
 and cruel, and undeserved as that doom was, 
 I might have forgotten it ; but never, while the 
 sands of life run, shall I or can I forget that 
 dark and dismal day when the child of my old
 
 ^94 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 age died the death of a dog. Ohon ! ohon ! 
 Hemish the fair-haired, Hemish the fleetest 
 foot, the stoutest arm in all the glen ! — that the 
 crows and the vultures should have fed upon 
 thy flesh, given to them too by '^'' 
 
 " My dear Elspeth," interposed the lady, 
 " let us not revert to a transaction which, whe- 
 ther justifiable or not, 1 would now give all 
 that I am worth to recall. Have you not 
 been revenged ? How long did Norman sur- 
 vive that act of stern, though perhaps, me- 
 rited severity ? But let that pass for the pre- 
 sent. I am here, Elspeth — I who drew the 
 stream of life from your breast — broken-heart- 
 ed, and in the lowest depth of misery. Will 
 you wreak your vengeance on me .''" 
 
 "On thee, my own darling ? No, so help me 
 Heaven ! Neither to thee, nor to aught that 
 belongs to thee, does Elspeth desire evil. Nor- 
 man himself I have forgiven — long, long for- 
 given — because he was the husband of my 
 child ; for thee, say how I can best prove the
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 295 
 
 devotion which I bear towards thee, and I will 
 obey thy wishes." 
 
 " Then hear me, Elspeth. My son, dear to 
 me as the light of heaven, is rejected by one 
 whom he has long wooed. Her father, instead 
 of urging the girl to her own happiness, sup- 
 ports her in her obstinacy, and Allan is driven 
 dishonoured from his home and his kindred. 
 Elspeth, say how it becomes Mac Diarmid's 
 widow to act, and tell me how the son of Mac 
 Diarmid may be rendered happy, and saved 
 from total ruin." 
 
 " I too had a son," replied the old woman, 
 reverting to the original subject of their con- 
 versation — " a son, who was to me a thousand 
 times dearer than light and life — but where is 
 he now ?" 
 
 " Oh, Elspeth !" interrupted Mrs. Mac Di- 
 armid, " if you do not intend to drive me mad, 
 recall your thoughts from that black image. 
 Speak to me not of the past, but of the pre- 
 sent. Your griefs are beyond human power to
 
 296 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 redress — mine may be ameliorated, provided I 
 can find one true friend among all that have 
 eaten Mac Diarmid's bread, and profess to 
 revere his memory." 
 
 '' That do not I, lady !" cried the beldame 
 fiercely, as she turned her sightless balls and 
 shrivelled countenance full towards her foster- 
 daughter : " Mac Diarmid''s memory is accurs- 
 ed, and will be accursed, by her whom he rob- 
 bed of her child. And as to his bread — have I 
 eaten it ? has any one in whose veins my blood 
 flows, eaten it — since that dark hour ?" 
 
 " Then God help me !" exclaimed Mrs. Mac 
 Diarmid, rising and wringing her hands. " My 
 very foster-mother forsakes me — I am deserted 
 indeed!" 
 
 *' Not so, dear child," cried the old woman, 
 holding out her hand as if to detain her ; '' thou 
 art not deserted, at least not by me ; — but if I 
 am to serve thee in aught, never speak of the 
 memory of one, whose name I have sworn not 
 again to utter — because 1 cannot bless, and
 
 ALLAN BRECK. ^97 
 
 would not willingly curse it. What would 
 you of me ? Ask for yourself, and the hand 
 that now detains, will be held in the fire till it 
 consume away, provided such be youi plea- 
 sure/' 
 
 " You have one son left, Elspeth — an out- 
 cast from his clan, it is true, and, if report do 
 not belie him, a man of desperate habits. 
 Is your control over him what it once was ? 
 will he obey your mandates when you issue 
 them ?'''' 
 
 " Will he !" exclaimed the old woman 
 proudly ; — " will he not ? He dare not disobey, 
 and would not if he dared. But what of 
 him ?" 
 
 " Demand for him what reward you choose, 
 - — restoration to the place which he once held 
 in Mac Diarmid's family — a return to the 
 lands which his father occupied — anything, 
 every thing which it is in my power to give, 
 and it will be granted on a single condition." 
 
 " And what is that condition ?" 
 o5
 
 ^98 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 " That he contrive to carry off Marcelly and 
 hide her in some remote place till, either by per- 
 suasion or otherwise, she consent to make Al- 
 lan happy, and herself respected. Will Ra- 
 nald do this act of kindness at his mother's bid- 
 ding ? — not for Mac Diarmid's son, but for his 
 own foster-sister — for thy foster-daughter ?"" 
 
 " Lady," replied the old woman, after a long 
 pause, " you have laid a heavy burden upon 
 me. / can forgive Mac Diarmid's offspring, 
 because they are the offspring of one to 
 whom these withered breasts gave suck ; but 
 Ranald is fiery and relentless, and his bro- 
 ther's murder has never passed, and will never 
 pass from his mind. For thee, individually, 
 he would do all that man can do ; — but to pro- 
 mote the welfare of Mac Diarmid's son, — can I 
 expect such a sacrifice at his hands ? — ought I 
 to require it ?" 
 
 '' Then mock me no more with protestations 
 of affection !" exclaimed Mrs. Mac Diarmid in- 
 dignantly ; " it was not from thee that the
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 299 
 
 fountain of my young blood was supplied. No 
 — I was in error when I looked for support, 
 even in my last extremity, from one on whom 
 I have no claims — on whom I never could have 
 had the shadow of a claim. Farewell, Els- 
 peth ; and may God and thine own heart for- 
 give thee, as freely as I do !" 
 
 " Stop, stop, madam !'* cried Elspeth eager- 
 ly; "I did not reject thy bidding, harsh and 
 ungrateful though it be ; neither did I say 
 that Ranald would reject it. But the sacri- 
 fice is almost too great for human nature : I 
 only doubted whether it were just to desire it 
 at his hands. You shall not, however, be de- 
 serted. Though my heart recoil at the idea, 
 I will lay my commands upon Ranald, and I 
 have deceived myself, if even here he refuse to 
 obey them."" 
 
 " Elspeth, I am thine for ever. Accom- 
 plish this object, on which all our hopes of 
 comfort depend, and may Heaven deal with 
 me and mine, as we forget or remember that
 
 300 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 we owe every thing to thee! When shall I see 
 you again ?"" 
 
 " Ranald returns to-night," replied the 
 crone — " at least such was his assurance when 
 he set out. If my lady do not object to visit 
 her nurse again to-morrow, she shall know how 
 he stands affected." 
 
 " Then to-morrow, about this time, look 
 for me. Farewell, Elspeth — be urgent, and 
 
 all will yet be well." 
 
 " All will yet be well !" exclaimed the old 
 woman, as soon as the receding sound of Mrs. 
 Mac Diarmid's footsteps made her aware that 
 she was alone. " Yes, it is ever thus. We 
 have no feelings to respect, no hopes to gra- 
 tify, no longings to appease. The poor vassal 
 must live for his lord, and die for that same 
 lord too, whenever the fitting moment comes ; 
 but as to consulting his own inclinations, or 
 seeking his own profit, that were a crime never 
 to be forgiven. And had not I a mother's 
 
 o 
 
 *" claim as well as she ? — did I not lay bare this
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 301 
 
 aching bosom, and pray for the life of my 
 son — ay, even to her whom that bosom 
 nourished — to no purpose ? — No — I was told 
 that in the administration of the laws women 
 could not interfere ; that Mac Diarmid was 
 inexorable, and that, painful as the sacrifice 
 was, private feeling must give way to a sense 
 of public duty ! Yet she comes to me, now 
 that there is grief at home, and requires that 
 the brother of Hemish shall put his own life 
 in jeopardy, for the purpose of obtaining a 
 bride for the son of his brother's murderer! 
 And I have consented to this. Well, and am 
 I not bound to sacrifice every thing for her ? 
 Has she not drawn her substance from this 
 withered breast — is she not twined around 
 this broken heart by a cord which no in- 
 juries, no wrongs will ever be able to loosen ? 
 Hemish, if the softness of thy mother's yield- 
 ing offend thy gallant spirit, forgive her ; 
 but she cannot act otherwise than she does ; 
 for even thou, her eldest and her best, wert
 
 S02 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 not more dear to her soul, than is the child 
 whom she reared from its mother'*s womb." 
 
 These words the old woman uttered aloud, 
 as if incapable of exercising the powers of 
 thought apart from the faculty of speech. It 
 appeared, however, that the act of soliloquis- 
 ing brought with it a soothing effect ; for her 
 ideas soon ran back again into another chan- 
 nel, and she resumed, as if nothing had oc- 
 curred to interrupt it, the low wild song which 
 she was in the act of singing when Mrs. Mac 
 Diarmid entered.
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 303 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 While these events were passing, both in 
 Edinburgh and Glenarroch, Parson Neil, 
 whose unlooked for separation from his pupil 
 has been glanced at rather than narrated, was 
 acting no unimportant part on the great stage 
 of public events to which our history refers. 
 
 In spite of the signal defeat which their 
 cause had sustained in 1715, and of the pro- 
 scriptions and confiscations that followed, the 
 Jacobites, as the adherents of the house of 
 Stuart were termed, ceased not to encourage 
 a confident anticipation that a second restora- 
 tion would yet be effected, and themselves, as 
 
 P'. f
 
 304 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 a necessary consequence, rewarded for their 
 fidelity. Neither the abortive affair of Glen- 
 shiels, nor the overthrow of the numerous 
 plots which ensued upon it, tended in any 
 material degree to change their views or re- 
 press their expectations. So long, indeed, as 
 theKing's government resisted, however feebly, 
 the policy of the new dynasty, and held back 
 from rendering Great Britain the mere trea- 
 sury of the Electorate of Hanover, the Ja- 
 cobites, if they lost none of their original 
 supporters, made little progress in the art 
 of proselytising. But in proportion as this 
 wise and just policy was abandoned, men's 
 eyes began to be turned with anxiety and 
 desire towards the survivors of the ancient 
 race. Nor was the undisguised partiality of the 
 two first Georges to their hereditary dominions 
 the sole, nor perhaps the principal, cause of 
 discontent throughout the nation. The South 
 Sea scheme, whilst it brought ruin upon mul- 
 titudes, and gave a serious shock to public
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 305 
 
 credit, operated as all panics do, in ren- 
 dering even such as escaped the danger, dis- 
 trustful of the resources of a Government, 
 under which so gross a delusion had been 
 practised. In like manner, the imposition of 
 a malt-tax led to serious discontent, particu- 
 larly in Scotland, which the subsequent en- 
 actment of the excise laws tended in no degree 
 to diminish ; while the disarming act rankled 
 in the breasts of all on whom it affixed the 
 mark of disgrace, rendering more hostile than 
 ever the bravest and most warlike portion of 
 the Scottish people. 
 
 With so many and such palpable grounds 
 of complaint to work upon, it would have 
 been strange indeed, had the advocates of 
 indefeasible hereditary right failed to stir up 
 heart-burnings and jealousy of the powers 
 that were, in all quarters. Plot after plot was 
 concocted and arranged, only that it might be 
 abandoned; for many an agent of the Stuarts 
 moved about unsuspected, because his real
 
 306 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 designs were concealed under the ordinary 
 guise of conspiracy — a devoted attachment 
 to the people's rights. But though the in- 
 triguers were thus busy, they by no means 
 stood alone in a feeling of soreness, to call 
 it by no stronger term, towards the existing Go- 
 vernment. Whatever advantages there might 
 be in perspective, Scotland had as yet de- 
 rived no benefits from the Revolution. Her 
 nationality was admitted to have been given 
 up at the Union ; she was a sharer in all the 
 burdens that England bore; and her com- 
 merce being still rather nominal than real, 
 these, though pitiful in amount, affected her 
 very seriously. The consequence was, that a 
 conviction began by degrees to gain ground, 
 that a positive error had been committed in 
 the expulsion of the whole of the direct line. 
 James, it was said, received only his deserts ; 
 but had we taken his son into our own keep- 
 ing, and educated him in sound principles, 
 we should have exhibited a greater degree of
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 307 
 
 political prudence than was displayed in the 
 adoption of a foreign prince, and the necessary 
 mixing up of this island in all the mazes and 
 entanglements of Continental diplomacy. But 
 when men began to speculate thus, they had 
 already taken a decided step towards positive 
 Jacobitism. It needed only an imprudent 
 act or two on the part of the Government, 
 to blow up the growing discontent into a 
 flame. 
 
 While many gentlemen in the Lowlands, 
 originally devoted to the house of Brunswick, 
 found that devotion grow cold under a contem- 
 plation of the supposed grievances to which 
 their country was subjected, other and still 
 more direct causes of complaint prepared the 
 fiery Highlanders for almost any enterprize, 
 however desperate. When the disarming act, 
 already referred to, was carried into effect, 
 several independent companies were raised for 
 the purpose of preserving order, and maintain- 
 ing public peace throughout the Highlands.
 
 SOS ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 Into these, six in number, the sons of tacks- 
 men and the higher order of tenantry were in- 
 duced to enter, in consequence of an assurance 
 solemnly given, that they should never be re- 
 quired to serve beyond the borders of their 
 own country ; and during a space of nearly 
 fourteen years, the pledge thus voluntarily 
 tendered, suffered no violation. Even when 
 embodied as a regiment, — a change in their 
 condition which occurred in 1739 — the Black 
 Watch, or Reicudan Du, continued still to 
 exercise their functions within the Highland 
 line ; nor had it entered into the contemplation 
 of any individual connected with them, that a 
 more general service would ever be required at 
 their hands. But the state of his Continental 
 affairs, as it had already induced the sovereign 
 to draw more freely than was agreeable upon 
 the pecuniary resources of his English sub- 
 jects, so it led him to overlook engagements 
 entered into with his Highland soldiery, and to 
 carry them beyond their recognized province.
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 309 
 
 In the sprino- of 1743, the Black Watch, being 
 assembled at Perth, were ordered to march up- 
 on London, ostensibly for the purpose of being 
 reviewed by the King in person ; in reality, 
 that they might be rendered disposable for 
 active operations in Flanders. 
 
 It is not our province to enter into any 
 inquiries as to the policy of this step, nor yet to 
 detail the consequences which resulted from it. 
 Enough is done when we remind the reader, 
 that the Black Watcb performed their march ; 
 that the King, without waiting to review the 
 troops, whom he had on this single pretext 
 brought from their homes, set sail for the 
 Continent ; and that the Highlanders, misled in 
 part by mischievous incendiaries, in part in- 
 dignant at the deceit passed upon them, broke 
 up from their quarters at Hounslow without 
 leave, and endeavoured to make the best of 
 their way back to the mountains. They were 
 pursued, surrounded, and compelled to sur- 
 render ; and while two or three suffered death
 
 310 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 as deserters, the remainder were drafted into dif- 
 ferent corps, and dispersed all over the world. 
 
 It were, perhaps, going too far were we to 
 affirm, that the men composing this magnifi- 
 cent corps, were all cordially attached to the 
 reigning family. Probably the case was not 
 so, though care might be, and doubtless was 
 taken, to select the officers from among gentle- 
 men of whose political principles no doubt 
 could be entertained ; but the very fact of their 
 carrying arms in King George''s name, at a 
 moment when the rest of their countrymen 
 were prohibited from doing so, ought of itself 
 to have rendered the Government cautious how 
 they dealt with them. Of this, indeed, ample 
 proof was given ; for as soon as intelligence 
 reached the North of the species of treatment 
 which the Black Watch had received, the in- 
 dignation of their countrymen was roused to 
 the most alarming degree. '' Where was the 
 advantage of loyalty over its opposite .?" " The 
 very men to whom the King was indebted for
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 311 
 
 the continuance of his authority in the High- 
 lands had been shipped off like criminals to 
 the Plantations, after they were foully deceived 
 into committing themselves within the power 
 of their hereditary enemies." " It was a na- 
 tional insult — a public wrong, which all men of 
 all opinions were bound to avenge.'"' " Scot- 
 land had been treated as a conquered province, 
 and the best of her sons as serfs." 
 
 Ever on the watch to take advantage of 
 events as they occurred, the agents of the ex- 
 iled family became more and more busy from 
 day to day. The most exaggerated reports 
 were circulated touching the injustice put both 
 upon the English and Scottish people by their 
 Hanoverian master. He was represented as 
 wantonly sacrificing the lives of his British 
 troops in every action ; as preferring his Ger- 
 mans to all places of honour and profit about 
 his person ; as keeping up a large army of 
 foreigners for the purpose of establishing an 
 absolute monarchy in England. In each house
 
 312 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 of Parliament, moreover, a strong party was 
 formed, if not unfriendly to the person of the 
 reigning monarch, undeniably dissatisfied with 
 the measures pursued by his Government. Of 
 that fact ample use was made — indeed, it be- 
 came by degrees a doubtful matter, even on 
 the score of self-interest, whether those had not 
 chosen the winning side, by whom the cause of 
 the Stuarts was adopted. 
 
 While the elements of a powerful faction 
 were thus arranging themselves at home, 
 France openly espoused the cause of James, 
 and made ostentatious preparations for the 
 conquest of Great Britain. Troops were mus- 
 tered in Picardy ; they embarked, and the fleet 
 put to sea, while the young Chevalier Charles 
 Edward established himself in Paris for the 
 purpose of following up the blow, so soon as it 
 should be struck : but the fortunes of the 
 House of Hanover prevailed, and the foreign 
 expedition dispersed, without effecting any- 
 thing. Though bitterly disappointed, the
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 313 
 
 Jacobites were far from losing heart at this 
 failure. Happily, they had as yet made no open 
 movement, by which means both their persons 
 and their property were secure; and hence, 
 though compelled to restrict themselves to the 
 old system of secret intrigue, they contrived 
 to keep the hopes of their party from sink- 
 iiig, by exaggerated representations of their 
 strength even then, and assurances of admira- 
 ble arrangements in progress for the future. 
 
 Among the most devoted and confidential 
 agents of the party, there was none who sur- 
 passed Parson Neil, either in intelligence or 
 in zeal. After lying close, as the phrase went, 
 during the heat of the day, till the memory 
 of former treasons had grown faint, Neil took 
 the field again with fresh alacrity on the first 
 appearance of a change ; and being generally 
 known and universally trusted among the lead- 
 ers of the Jacobite faction, he found frequent 
 opportunities of doing the cause good service. 
 At a period when the slightest act of indivi- 
 
 VOL. I. P
 
 314 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 dual indiscretion might have brought ruin on 
 hundreds of the oldest and best families in 
 the kingdom, the presence of a man, towards 
 whom there was no necessity for exercising re- 
 serve — who could carry from point to point, 
 without the hazard attending written des- 
 patches, the outlines of plans, and the views 
 and wishes of different parties — Avho was 
 known to possess in an extraordinary degree the 
 -equalities of prudence and caution — who could 
 J3e trusted with a secret, and left to use his know- 
 ledge according as circumstances might require : 
 the presence of such a man at such a moment 
 could not fail to be felt as peculiarly advan- 
 tageous by a body of persons that staked for- 
 tune and life itself on the chances of overturn- 
 ing the established Government. The current 
 of our history has not led us to refer to the fre- 
 quent excursions in which Parson Neil, during 
 fWo or three years previous to the removal of 
 Allan to the Lowlands, had indulged ; but 
 when we state here, that a very considerable
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 315 
 
 portion of his time was spent upon the road, 
 the reader will be at no loss in surmising to 
 what ends his journeys were directed. 
 
 One principal purpose to which the Parson's 
 talents were applied, was to keep up a fre- 
 quent and friendly correspondence between the 
 staunch old Jacobite chiefs, and those converts 
 to cavalier opinions, whom passing events ren- 
 dered more and more numerous every day. 
 This was a matter of peculiar delicacy, for it 
 did not always happen, that recent agreements 
 wiped out the remembrance of ancient antipa- 
 thies, while the prejudices originating in dif- 
 ferences distinct from those affecting the civil 
 government of the country, proved in various 
 instances extremely difficult to control. Of 
 the original Jacobites, for example, almost all 
 were either Roman Catholics, or Episcopa- 
 lians. The former, indeed, scarcely affected 
 to anticipate the re-establishment of their 
 church ; but the latter looked upon the resto- 
 ration of Episcopacy as inseparable from that
 
 316 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 of the exiled family; indeed, with them, the 
 phrases Whig and Presbyterian were synony- 
 mous, and equally applied as terms of con- 
 tempt. Now of the men who began to swell 
 the ranks of the disaffected, subsequently to 
 the adoption of the impolitic measures alluded 
 to above, almost all were members of the Pres- 
 byterian church. It required a great deal of 
 management so to mediate between these 
 j^arties, as that grounds of disunion should be 
 avoided ; and in nothing was the Parson's 
 tact more conspicuously shown, than in the 
 adjustment of that delicate point. Neverthe- 
 less, he did adjust it to the perfect satisfaction 
 of all concerned. Willing, in common with 
 the majority of his brethren, to sacrifice, 
 should necessity require, the temporal interests 
 of his order, he took care to repress, both by 
 precept and example, the exaggerated zeal of 
 the laity attached to his communion; while he 
 satisfied their rivals, that neither by him nor 
 by the rest of the body, would an attempt be
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 317 
 
 made to disturb the order of religion in the 
 country, as it had been settled at the Revo- 
 lution. 
 
 Among other influential persons whom the 
 current of events had recently brought over, 
 was the individual to whom the reader has 
 already been introduced ; first, as rendering- 
 service to the travellers in their hour of need, 
 and latterly, as dismissing Allan with his cre- 
 dentials to Edinburgh. Descended from a 
 Presbyterian stock, and educated in strict ad- 
 herence to Revolution principles, Lawrence 
 Blair, of Blairlogie, had carried his zeal in the 
 cause of the reigning family as far as most 
 men ; having taken the field in 1715, under 
 the Duke of Argyle, and maintained a troop 
 of horse during the campaign at his own ex- 
 pense. In the house of Blairlogie, however, 
 as in many others, there were differences of 
 political creed ; for it chanced that while one 
 brother bore arms in defence of George the 
 Second, another wielded his broadsword in the 
 p 3
 
 318 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 ranks of the Earl of Mar. This was at the 
 time a matter of deep regret to the laird, who 
 lamented it the more because JEneas*'s apos- 
 tasy originated in a cause scarcely less oifen- 
 sive in his eyes than the act of apostasy itself. 
 JEinesLS, an accomplished and gay young bar- 
 rister, had formed an attachment to Miss Janet 
 Menzies ; of whom also the reader has already 
 heard something, and who, about five-and- 
 twenty years prior to the date when this nar- 
 rative commenced, reigned one of the leading 
 toasts of the Scottish metropolis. Now the 
 Menzies's were all devoted to the exiled dy- 
 nasty. They were connected, moreover, by 
 ties of blood, with many of the leading fa- 
 milies on that side of the question, and claimed 
 kindred, not remotely, v/ith the arcii-traitor 
 Norman Mac Diarmid himself. Nevertheless, 
 neither the remonstrances of a really generous 
 brother, nor the prejudices early instilled into 
 him, rendered JEneas proof against the allure- 
 ments of the young lady's charms ; and to
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 319 
 
 become the lover of a fair Jacobite and a con- 
 vert to her principles was, at the period of 
 which we are now writing, one and the same 
 thing. ISIiss Janet Menzies plighted her troth 
 to the young advocate as soon as he agreed to 
 assume the white cockade, and she sent him 
 forth to win her hand by perilling his own life 
 in a contest which to all, except the enthu- 
 siastic, appeared desperate. 
 
 The tr^l was made, and failed, and ^neas 
 Blair, with many other gentlemen who had 
 thrown in their lot with the adventure, be- 
 came a fugitive and proscribed. His brother 
 earnestly solicited a pardon, and pleaded his 
 own merits in extenuation of the errors of a 
 mere youth ; but his plea was totally disre- 
 garded, and during some months the young 
 man was indebted to the fearless devotion of 
 his mistress for the means of subsistence. 
 Concealed in a cave in the side of a rock, she 
 visited him daily from that dwelling which 
 gave shelter to Parson Neil and his pupil after
 
 320 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 their flight from Stirling; conveying to him 
 his food in her own hands, and risking more 
 than hfe — reputation, in his defence. But all 
 her care and tenderness availed not. The 
 fiery and restless spirit of ^neas could not 
 brook this protracted imprisonment. Of his 
 brother'*s exertions he was not unaware, he 
 anticipated from them a favourable result, and 
 in an evil hour he quitted that concealment 
 which had so long shielded him from the ven- 
 geance of the law. He was arrested in the 
 house of Blairlogie itself; and being conveyed 
 to Edinburgh, was, within the space of one 
 week, tried, condemned, and executed as a 
 traitor. 
 
 We are not required to describe the effect 
 which this occurrence produced on the situa- 
 tion and prospects of the young man's betrothed 
 bride. The terms in which she alluded to 
 the events of " the fifteen," after twenty 
 years had in some degree softened down the
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 321 
 
 recollection of them, may serve to point out 
 how they operated at the moment ; but of 
 the influence which that impolitic deed had in 
 giving a new current to the principles of the 
 laird, it is necessary to say something. Blair- 
 logie loved his brother with much more tlian a 
 brother's love. They were all that remained 
 of their race, and iEneas being several years 
 his junior, had been treated by him from his 
 infancy rather as a son than a brother. Nor 
 had the course which yEneas adopted in po- 
 litics thrown the slightest chill over that affec- 
 tion ; for though he deplored the error, he 
 ceased not to think of the culprit himself as of 
 a boy misled by passion alone. Under these 
 circumstances, but one result might be ex- 
 pected to follow the execution of so bloody a 
 sentence. Lawrence Blair never forgave it. 
 For a time, indeed, he adhered to his Whig 
 principles, or rather deceived himself into a 
 belief that he did so ; but he now became a
 
 322 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 rigid and severe critic of every act which the 
 Government performed, both in its dealings 
 with individuals and with Scotland. Nor was 
 this all. The blandishments by which she had 
 originally misled his brother were all for- 
 gotten, and he thought of Janet Menzies only 
 as the beloved and faithful friend, who shel- 
 tered ^neas in his hour of distress, and now 
 mourned over him broken-hearted. 
 
 These sentiments on his part soon led to the 
 commencement of an intercourse which gra- 
 dually ripened into friendship. He became a 
 frequent visitor at Caldhame, a circumstance 
 which excited neither suspicion nor surprise 
 in the neighbourhood, because all men were 
 aware of the particular attractions that drew 
 him there; and he found more than one op- 
 portunity materially to serve a family, which 
 had sacrificed much of its property to a sense 
 of mistaken duty. The results may be stated 
 in few words. A contemplation of the de-
 
 ALLAN BRECK. 323 
 
 voted loyalty of his friends, and the admiration 
 which it was calculated to excite, wrought 
 strongly, though imperceptibly, on a mind 
 soured by a recollection of personal wrongs, 
 and prepared it for that total change of feeling 
 and principle which a few gross blunders on 
 the part of the minister wrought out. The 
 passing of the excise laws shook the loyalty of 
 Blairlogie — the massacre of the Black Watch 
 threw it to the ground ; and he became in the 
 end a zealous though a secret Jacobite, pre- 
 pared to run all hazards for the purpose of 
 effecting a restoration. Nor were his services 
 less important to the cause than those of any 
 other individual attached to it. His change 
 of sentiment being wholly unsuspected, even 
 by the most furious of his Whig neighbours, 
 the disinclination which he displayed to take 
 again a prominent part in politics was attri- 
 buted, naturally enough, to the recollection of 
 his brother's fate alone. The consequence was,
 
 324 ALLAN BRECK. 
 
 that he not only carried on his own intrigues 
 in comparative security, but proved the means 
 of delivering many a suspected Jacobite from 
 the dangers of too rigid an examination. 
 
 END OF THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
 LONDON : 
 PRINTED BY SAMUEL BtNTLKY, 
 
 Dorset Strtei, Fleet Street.
 
 "-.