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 L I B R A R. Y 
 
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 THE 
 
 PK IVAT E E R; 
 
 A TALE OF THE SEA, 
 IN TWO VOLUMES. 
 
 O'er the g-lad waters of the dark blue sea, 
 Oui- thoughts as boundless, and our souls as free ; 
 Far as the breeze can bear, the billows foam, 
 Survey our empire, and behold our home.— Byron. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON: 
 ANDREWS, NEW BOND STREET. 
 
 1848.
 
 THE 
 
 PRIVATEER, 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 And thus it was with us 
 
 Like Summer Voyagers on a quiet sea, 
 
 We on the deck our varying parlaunce held ; 
 
 Or gave the light jest to the passing winde ; 
 
 Or on the sunnie billowes careleslie 
 
 Gazed as they kist and parted ; or convaied. 
 
 In gentle whispers to our Mistresse* eare. 
 
 Fond thoughts that Fancie bred of Idlenesse; 
 
 While underneathe the rapid tyde of tyme 
 
 Flowed brightelye on to miserable aims 
 
 And moste unhearde-of yssues. — Moribunde Old Poem. 
 
 It was in the beginning of August when, 
 .; with a full tide and favouring breeze, a small 
 > northward-bound vessel dropped down the 
 V river Thames — the morning sun was spark- 
 ling on the rippled wave ; and, as the many 
 - objects rose and expanded like imagination, 
 
 VOL. I. B 
 
 4
 
 2 THE PRIVATEER. 
 
 or passed and faded like forgetfulness, the 
 passengers remained on deck, contemplating 
 the land they left, till the waters widened, 
 and the last needle-pointed spire melted into 
 nothing. 
 
 There is something particularly interesting 
 in the commencement of a first voyage — in 
 the bustle and activity of the sailors — the 
 fluttering of the canvass — and the fearful 
 heaving of the element to which we commit 
 ourselves ; and this observation was fully ve- 
 rified in two of our party ; an elderly female, 
 and an interesting young one. As they 
 sat watching a sailor in his progress to the 
 mast-head, the first of these expressed great 
 astonishment at his agility and seeming un- 
 concern. " Suppose," said she, " he should 
 fall from that almost invisible rope ! he 
 would crush us to death ! '* " My dear 
 Mrs. M'Kay," rephed the other, in a sweeter
 
 THE PRIVATEER. 3 
 
 and more feeling tone, " you seem to forget 
 what would be the poor man's fate." She 
 did not take her eyes off him till he had 
 safely descended, and the next object which 
 met them was a genteel young man gazing 
 intently upon her. " Mind, Madam," he 
 said, turning to Mrs. M'Kay, " keep clear 
 of that rope, or you will be hoisted to the 
 station just vacated by our friend with the 
 ragged shirt." 
 
 The lady uttered an exclamation of horror 
 and shifted her seat, but, being presently 
 warned that the boom would carry her over- 
 board, she retreated with all expedition to 
 the cabin, while the gentleman took her place 
 by Miss Grey, which was the name of the 
 younger female. She thought his speech 
 had been rather rude to her aunt, but some 
 civil remarks and endeavours to make him- 
 self useful, soon placed him in a more ad- 
 
 B 2
 
 4 THE PRIVATEER. 
 
 vantageous light, and a few minutes found 
 them chatting on the most friendly terms. 
 
 They had gone on in this manner for some 
 time, when the gentleman calling to another 
 who sat on the opposite side of the vessel in 
 a musing posture, desired to know whence 
 he had been favoured with the amatory com- 
 position which he had twisted into so many 
 shapes. The person he addressed looked up 
 and smiled, and, depositing the rumpled pa- 
 per in his pocket, came towards them. As 
 he advanced. Miss Grey's friend begged 
 leave to introduce him, and, before he had 
 received permission, announced him as Mr. 
 Ardourly. Mr. Ardourly made his bow, and 
 said he believed it would now be his part to 
 perform the agreeable office for his friend 
 which he had just received from him, and 
 introduced him as " a rude and boisterous 
 Captain of the sea — Captain Raleigh."
 
 THE PRIVATEER. 5 
 
 " What have you been saying to the httle 
 girl V said Ardourly, as the young lady, ra- 
 ther embarrassed at being introduced by two 
 strangers, readily obeyed a voice which sum- 
 moned her below. 
 
 His friend laughed, and asked where her 
 old grandfather had stowed himself. He 
 had not been seen since they weighed anchor. 
 Ardourly accounted for his absence, having 
 seen him busily employed in putting away 
 a cargo of curiosities ; and was enabled 
 to give something of his history which 
 had been gathered from the Captain of the 
 vessel. 
 
 Mr. M^Kay was a naturalist in his do- 
 tage. He had come from Scotland on a 
 short visit to London, for the purpose of 
 makmg additions to his collection of ra- 
 rities. But the most valua]>le one he had 
 picked up, by way of ornament ta his fire-
 
 .16 THE PRIVATEER. 
 
 side, was a wife, the good lady before in- 
 troduced, who was now about to make her 
 bridal entre at her new residence, and, hav- 
 ing wisely considered the possibility of her 
 making no addition to the family of the 
 McKays, had stipulated with the bridegroom 
 for the adoption of her niece. 
 
 These, with the two young men, of whom 
 it is time to give a short account, were all 
 the persons of importance now afloat in the 
 " Pride of the Ocean," by which title the 
 reader will please to recognise, not one of 
 the fine smacks of the present day, but a 
 small dingy cutter, about as clean and com- 
 modious as a collier. 
 
 Henry Ardourly was one of a large family, 
 and, as this one happened not to be the 
 eldest, his father had thought it as necessary 
 to give him a good education, as to instruct 
 his heir-apparent in the dignity of county
 
 THE PRIVATEER. 7 
 
 clubs and cock-fighting. Henry did not neg- 
 lect his opportunities — ^he had good abilities, 
 and what, in the opinion of his female ac- 
 quaintance, was better, he had a good figure. 
 These qualifications had, in a visit which he 
 paid two years before to an early friend of 
 his father in Scotland, found such favour with 
 the honest Scot as produced an invitation 
 for Henry to become his companion and 
 successor; neither of which had been left 
 him by his lately deceased wife. 
 
 A short time previous to his commencing 
 his Scotch expedition his friend Raleigh re- 
 turned from sea, and, like many other worthy 
 sons of Neptune, having nothing to do but 
 to bind up his wounds and spend his half-pay, 
 wished for no better amusement than a few 
 weeks' shooting on the muirs. Henry had full 
 permission to take what friends he pleased, 
 and they accordingly set out together.
 
 8 THE PRIVATEER. 
 
 As they were now alone, Ardourly pro- 
 duced the letter which had excited Raleigh's 
 curiosity. 
 
 " Full of darts and smarts of course," said 
 Raleigh, as he opened it — " you are nearer 
 the mark than you suspect, perhaps; but 
 read." 
 
 " If Mr. Ardourly values his safety, he will 
 *' not venture on Scottish ground — he must have 
 " received a similar note to this some time since, 
 " and he would not have rendered another ne- 
 " cessary, if he had been aware of the danger 
 " to which it exposed the writer/' 
 
 '^ Very extraordinary indeed ! can you 
 form no clue to the meaning of this?" 
 " None." 
 
 " It is a very pretty hand — a woman's 
 evidently. Why, what can it be but a half- 
 witted plan of some enamoured fair, to keep 
 you at home ? Depend on it, it is the last
 
 THE PRIVATEER. 9 
 
 resource of desperation. But lo ! the Bride- 
 groom appears !" 
 
 As soon as Mr. M'Kay had introduced his 
 time-worn visage, and red worsted night-cap, 
 above the cabin stairs, he was assisted by 
 both the young men. His infirm and shrunk 
 limbs could scarcely drag themselves to the 
 deck ; and when he attained it and displayed 
 his figure to full view, they could neither of 
 them conceal a smile as they attached to it 
 the idea of a bridegroom. His threadbare 
 snufF-coloured coat but just hung upon the 
 frame within it, and his black small-clothes 
 and worsted stockings seemed, from their 
 magnitude, and the negligence with which 
 they were braced up, in imminent danger of 
 falling about his heels. Having thanked the 
 gentlemen with a voice which formed as 
 strong a contrast to that of his wife, as did 
 his meagre appearance and four-score years
 
 10 THE PRIVATEER. 
 
 to her tall, fat and jolly person, rendered 
 tough by fifty-five years of celibacy, he de- 
 sired them to examine the curiosity he had 
 found. This was a miserable insect, whose 
 minuteness had, unfortunately, been insuffi- 
 cient to protect it from the keen spectacles 
 of the naturalist, and had been dragged from 
 its hiding-place on the triumphant point of 
 a pin. 
 
 " Only look at him," said Mr. M'Kay, dis- 
 playing his victim, and gazing eagerly through 
 a microscope; " see how surprisingly he 
 wags his legs ! I 'm thinking this will be the 
 pediculus marinus — there, don't touch him — 
 look through the glass, and see how he 
 opens his mouth — he is in his last gasps." 
 
 " Wonderful indeed !" said Raleigh ; 
 " and where, my good Sir, might you have 
 found him? in your wdg?" 
 
 " In Mrs. McKay's wardrobe," replied
 
 THE PRIVATEER. M 
 
 the enraptured executioner, as he congratu- 
 lated himself on the vengeance he had taken 
 upon the intruding malefactor. — " But how 
 is our course ? I 'm thinking we '11 be some 
 miles from the river just now. " 
 
 Henry assented, and hoped he did not 
 feel any ill effects from the water. — " 111 ef- 
 fects ! no, no — I have been over this ground 
 too often; biit there's Mrs. M^Kay is not 
 quite so well as she should be — but no mat- 
 ter, she is strong enough to bear it, and 
 there is the child Aimlie to look to her." 
 
 Raleigh no sooner heard that Mrs. M'Kay 
 began to be sea-sick, than he thought it would 
 afford him a good opportunity of renewing his 
 flirtation with her niece; and, expressing 
 much regret that such an amiable lady should 
 suffer any inconvenience, presently disap- 
 peared to offer his assistance. Mr. M'Kay 
 looked after him, and observed he was a wild
 
 12 THE PRIVATEER. 
 
 lad, and was only gone to make game of the 
 poor body ; but this, perhaps, did not dis- 
 compose him so much as the rude and peril- 
 ous examination to which his butterflies 
 and tom-titswere subjected. iVrdourly trust- 
 ed he had met with no accident in shipping 
 his treasures. The old gentleman replied in 
 the negative, excepting the loss of a wing 
 from the tipula rivosa, or large gnat of Lin- 
 nseus, which, indeed, might be said to be a 
 species of the gaffer long-legs. " But," he 
 added, " T am not quite at ease while that 
 lad, may be, is rummaging the portfolio of 
 botanical sketches." 
 
 " You have nothing to fear, my good sir, 
 from his inspection, he has a great regard 
 for the fine arts, and is no contemptible 
 hand himself; witness that elegant perform- 
 ance before you" — and he pointed to a head 
 chalked upon the deck.
 
 THE PRIVATEER. 13 
 
 " Mrs. M'Kay to the life !" ejaculated the 
 bridegroom with a grin of satisfaction, " a 
 promising sketch truly, but a little too like 
 the queen upon a twelfth cake. I did not 
 think he had the wit to be a caricaturist — 
 he '11 have me by her side soon, I 'm think- 
 ing — a jackanapes/' The latter part of this 
 speech had something of petulance in it ; 
 but Mr. M'Kay had, in some measure, out- 
 lived his wits, and was rather apt to be 
 out of temper without very visible cause, at 
 which times it required much penetration to 
 find the real one ; in the present instance it 
 might be the expectation of seeing his fea- 
 tures displayed in caricature, or it might be 
 the snapping off of a button, which hap- 
 pened as he was stooping to contemplate the 
 physiognomy of his wife, and well nigh 
 brought to pass the catastrophe which was 
 always impending.
 
 14 THE PRIVATEER. 
 
 When this was adjusted, he entered into 
 conversation again, and Ardourly perceived, 
 through the frequent wanderings and imbe- 
 cihties of age, the remains of a good under- 
 standing and dry humour, from which he 
 hoped to extract more amusement than was 
 promised by first appearances. 
 
 The ardour of Mr. McKay's present pur- 
 suit of the insect and feathered tribe had 
 been preceded by not less eager studies of 
 other descriptions which had succeeded each 
 other in whimsical rotation as the progress 
 of years more and more exposed his waver- 
 ing mind to the dominion of fancy. Thus, 
 after the chief part of a long life had been 
 engrossed by painting, his first symptom 
 of caprice was an attempt to cultivate the 
 sister art, and to become a musician. He 
 played on the spinet, and accompanied it 
 with his voice; his harmonious avoca-
 
 THE PRIVATEER. 15 
 
 tions continuing the wonder of his friends 
 and the torment of his household for a good 
 twelvemonth ; insomuch that he made a 
 piano upon a new construction, and small 
 enough to be his bed-fellow ; so that he 
 thrummed and practised his sol fas when- 
 ever he waked. But being told that he 
 would wear out his lungs, and having the 
 mysteries of those dehcate organs explained 
 to him, the musician became curious, and 
 was converted into a doctor ; he fancied he 
 had a thousand complaints, and took as 
 many medicines with opposite effects. He 
 visited his sick friends, not to inquire after 
 their health but to taste their physic ; and 
 this led to a desire of the knowledge of 
 making it, which, forthwith, turned him 
 into a chemist. Having brushed up his dog 
 Latin, and learned to decipher the hierogly- 
 phics of a medical receipt, physicians from
 
 16 THE PRIVATEER. 
 
 all quarters were desired to prescribe for im- 
 aginary diseases, the doses made up, and 
 carefully preserved till occasion should call 
 for them. But after a few fatal accidents, 
 his fame began to decrease so much, that the 
 want of encouragement turned his ideas 
 from that branch of chemistry to the experi- 
 mental one; and he passed his time in 
 galvanizing frogs, and other scientific ex- 
 periments, till he blew himself up, and 
 decided upon another transition. Ento- 
 mology was promoted to the vacant throne 
 of Pharmacy and Voltaism; and, having, 
 as yet, only met with the trifling incon- 
 venience of running into a river in chase 
 of a butterfly, his new occupation seemed, 
 as the others had done in their day, the 
 most dehghtful of all ; especially, as it ad- 
 mitted the exercise of his pencil, which, 
 through all the fluctuations of his taste, had
 
 THE PRIVATEER. 17 
 
 been more or less attended to ; perhaps, be- 
 cause it was the one for which he was best 
 gifted by nature. 
 
 These particulars were voluntarily com- 
 municated by the old man, who took a plea- 
 sure in displaying his accomplishments 
 but they could only be dragged at happy 
 intervals from the dark chamber of his me- 
 mory, in which he vainly groped for many 
 other circumstances which might have been 
 equally interesting. 
 
 " You are a goodly sort of a stripling," 
 said Mr. M^Kay, " but how comes it to pass 
 that you have associated yourself with that 
 noisy, senseless, sailor lad ? I have not spoke 
 a dozen words to him, but he seems, bating 
 a little good nature, which he cannot help, 
 to be no more fit to be about a discreet 
 young person than I was to be married; 
 though, God reward her, Mrs. M'Kay may 
 
 VOL. I. c
 
 18 THE PRIVATEER. 
 
 be as good as any body else, excepting here 
 and there one. But the lad, I was speaking 
 of the lad — you should keep clear of him, 
 for he has a kind of hair-brained wit about 
 him which amuses you whether you will or 
 no, and might make you as bad as himself, 
 saving that you have more sense and more 
 reading." 
 
 Ardourly endeavoured to say something 
 in extenuation of his wild companion, but 
 Raleigh had indulged his talent for ridicule 
 too much at the expense of Mr. M^Kay and 
 his treasures, to be speedily forgiven ; he 
 had likewise been over free in his remarks 
 upon Scotland, of which he had a very im- 
 perfect knowledge, and had taken the liberty 
 to curse barley broth, as only fit for the pigs, 
 just after the touchy old gentleman had 
 ordered it for dinner, and declare it to be 
 the finest thing in the world.
 
 THE PRIVATEER. 19 
 
 This " finest thing in the world" which was 
 ^^ only fit for the pigs," was. now delivered 
 from the hands of the cook, whom 'twere 
 base flattery to call a chimney-sweep, into 
 those of the steward, by whom it was con- 
 veyed reeking to the cabin. The delicious 
 odour of onions which it left behind put an 
 instantaneous period to the conversation. 
 Mr. M^Kay, having adjusted his night-cap 
 and tightened up his small clothes, seized 
 Henry by the arm, and made his way down 
 as fast as he could ; but not without observ- 
 ing a dish of cauliflower, and begging that 
 his new ally would preserve all the volvoces 
 vel eruccE, otherwise caterpillars, that might 
 fall to his share. 
 
 Mrs. M'Kay was not to be seen, while 
 Raleigh and Miss Grey were, perhaps, eye- 
 ing the hapless mess with too much malice, for 
 interrupting their tete-a-tete^ to partake of it. 
 
 C 2
 
 20 THE PRIVATEER. 
 
 *^ Why, Mrs. M'Kay, I say : where have 
 you crept to? The broth will be cold !" In 
 reply to this summons, a voice issuing from 
 something like a trap-door faintly exclaimed, 
 " I *m very poorly !" 
 
 " Well, but get up and take some broth ; 
 'twill do you good/' 
 
 « Alack, I 'm very ill !" 
 
 After a little while the good lady turned 
 out in her petticoat and stays, with a 
 blanket over her shoulders, and a night-cap 
 so beflapped and befrilled as gave the pitiful 
 countenance within it the appearance of 
 being decked out for a funeral. She was 
 supported to the table, and having taken her 
 seat, the bridegroom hastily splashed a ladle 
 full of the " best thing in the world," into a 
 pewter plate, and begged her to fall to. 
 Mrs. M^Kay took up her spoon and laid it 
 down again two or three times ; at last she
 
 THE PRIVATEER. 21 
 
 mustered resolution to convey a small quan- 
 tity to her lips, but the wry face which it 
 produced, seemed but too indicative of 
 what would follow if she had the hardi- 
 hood to proceed further; to Raleigh's de- 
 light, therefore, she was again helped through 
 the trap-door, and desired to compose 
 herself. 
 
 There was now no one to keep Mr. M^Kay 
 in countenance but the Captain of the vessel, 
 for Ardourly, Raleigh, and the young lady, 
 preferred a biscuit with something less sa- 
 voury, was produced from the locker, 
 after many urgent representations from the 
 latter of these gentlemen that Miss Grey, 
 rather than be poisoned by his cursed 
 hotch-potch, or whatever it was, would make 
 up her mind to be starved . Mr. M'Kay raised 
 his eyes in silent astonishment at the insult 
 oiTered to the barley-broth and a fine haggis
 
 22 THE PRIVATEER. 
 
 which had been announced, but had not 
 leisure to dispute the point with such a 
 scape-grace.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Bright was the prospect which before them shbne ; 
 Gay danced the sun-beams o'er the trembling wave* : 
 Who that the faithless ocean had not known. 
 Which now the strand in placid whispers laves, 
 Could e'er believe the ra^e with which it raVes 
 When angry Boreas bids the storm arise. 
 And calls his wild winds from their wintry caves? 
 Now soft Favonius breaths his gentlest sighs, 
 Aaspicious omens wait, serenely smile the skies. — Psyche. 
 
 VY HEN dinner was over, Raleigh hoped 
 Mr. M^Kay had feasted to his satisfaction, 
 and begged leave to drink a glass of grog 
 with him. The old man shook his head and 
 said, after he had wiped his mouth and taken 
 out his tooth-pick, for which he had very 
 little use, " I'd rather drink with you than 
 eat with you, lad, for you are but a sorry 
 judge of dainties, and, doubtless, you are 
 better skilled in the first accompHshment."
 
 24 THE PRIVATEER. 
 
 " True," replied Raleigh, " I learned that 
 bad habit, and many others, when I was sta- 
 tioned oflPyour Scotch coast ; how else could a 
 Christian stand your barbarous north-easters? 
 Come, Laird, (for you are that at least,) here's 
 to our growing friendship, and success to 
 your learned researches." 
 
 Mr. M'Kay was fully as partial as Raleigh 
 to his whiskey-toddy, though his head could 
 not be expected to be quite so good, and they 
 continued drinking together for some time 
 in a kind of skirmishing sociabihty, disputing 
 the rarity of a certain yellow flower which 
 the one called a Convallaria Bifolia, and the 
 other a Dandelion ; till Mr. M'Kay shrugged 
 up his shoulders and declared that sailors 
 were the greatest reprobates in the w^orld. 
 
 Miss Grey and Ardourly were quietly 
 looking over a portfolio, marked " Papi- 
 lionesj Culices pipientes/^ ^c, and were, by
 
 THE PRIVATEER. 25 
 
 turns, amused with the conversation, and 
 fearful of its ending in a downright quarrel ; 
 this, however, the Captain easily avoided, 
 being one of those favoured few who are at 
 liberty to say what they please without giv- 
 ing offence. 
 
 At last he finished the discussion by com- 
 plaining that Mr. M'Kay so unmercifully 
 brought together the terms of his different 
 sciences that his arguments burst upon him 
 like a bomb-shell, without his knowing what 
 the overwhelming shower was composed of. 
 Indeed, this complaint was just enough, for 
 the whiskey had set afloat all Mr. McKay's 
 various knowledge, which jostled itself from 
 a comparison between the bills of the tringa 
 hypoleucos and the scolopax gallinaga, 
 (which, for aught Raleigh knew, might 
 mean crows and magpies,) to a discourse 
 upon digitalis and hydrargyrum, sopranosy
 
 26 THE PRIVATEER. 
 
 falsettos, pet'spective and neutral tints ; all 
 of which were as cleverly mixed together as 
 if they had been pounded with a pestle and 
 mortar. 
 
 " I must now talk a little to your niece, 
 Laird," said Raleigh, " for the mind needs 
 relaxation after such learned exertions." 
 " Pray, Miss Grey, do you not think you 
 v/ill be very miserable in Scotland, after the 
 character I have given of it." The young 
 lady laughed, and inquired why he went 
 thither himself if he disliked it so much. 
 
 " Why do I ? ay, very true, why do I ? 
 upon my word I cannot say, but I sup- 
 pose I shall know when 1 get there. Oh, 
 I recollect I am going to shoot Mr. McKay's 
 grouse — how are they. Sir, pretty plenty?" 
 
 " That's not so great a favour to grant," 
 replied the naturalist, " and, if any body will 
 trust you with a gun, (which, doubtless,
 
 THE PRIVATEER. 27 
 
 would be no proof of their sense,) I have no 
 objection to your taking a day upon the 
 muirs, (which you would take, whether I had 
 or no,) provided you do not shoot at my 
 windows, and will bring Lady Brachenshaw 
 any muirfowl, or tetrao tetrix, that is daft 
 enough to be killed by you." 
 
 " Well, I could have sworn we should be 
 excellent friends ; we took a liking to each 
 other from the first. But who is Lady 
 Brachenshaw ? " " Lady Brachenshaw ! who 
 but the lady of the manor ? She that is Mrs, 
 M^Kay." Ardourly begged to know if he 
 meant Brachenshaw on Dee side ; and, being 
 answered in the affirmative, said he was 
 happy they were bound for the same neigh- 
 bourhood ; his own destination being Inver- 
 craig, which was but a few miles from Bra- 
 chenshaw. Mr. M'Kay expressed some sur- 
 prise, and appeared to be struggUng with hia
 
 28 THE PRIVATEER. 
 
 whiskey to collect his ideas, which^ hke an 
 army dispersed by the enemy, were running- 
 in every direction ; but they had been run- 
 ning for some time, and the greater part of 
 them were out of sight, so that the general 
 beat to quarters in vain. 
 
 " I We some sort of recollection," he said, 
 " of hearing you talked about there." 
 
 " Very likely, Sir, I was there about two 
 years since." 
 
 " 'Twas said that Invercraig had borrowed 
 a son of some old acquaintance, who, as I 
 think, was to be there somewhere about now. 
 But I am old, and remember tilings badly. 
 You '11 not be the lad yourself, I trust V 
 " And why not ? " said Henry ; his thoughts 
 immediately recurring to his mysterious 
 letter. 
 
 *^ Do you mean you are the lad himself 
 then?" Henry assented. " I'm sorry for
 
 THE PRIVATEER. 29 
 
 it, I 'm sorry for it— go home again as fast 
 as you can." 
 
 Henry inquired further, but the old man 
 checked himself as he was going to reply. 
 " Why so, d'ye ask ? how should I know ? 
 how — that is, the bottle's out, and I '11 e'en 
 take a nap beside Lady Brachenshaw and 
 her thirteen petticoats." The young men 
 urged him to explain what he meant, 
 l)ut he grew pettish, and would make no 
 further communications, save and except 
 that he thought them a brace of puppies ; 
 with which sentiment he closed the conver- 
 sation, and the trap-door through which he 
 had vanished like the ghost in a panto- 
 mime. 
 
 Henry was perplexed at Mr. McKay's 
 advice, nor was his friend less so ; and 
 they began to think there was something 
 more serious in the note than they had
 
 30 THE PRIVATEER. 
 
 at first suspected. Nothing satisfactory, 
 however, could be obtained from their own 
 conjectures, and they were compelled to de- 
 lay any further inquiry till Mr. M^Kay had 
 slept off the effects of the whiskey ; when, 
 indeed, the chances were that he would be 
 doubly cautious. 
 
 It was now six o'clock, and the party 
 being freed from the company of the new 
 married couple, who gave very audible proof 
 of enjoying a sound slumber, went upon 
 deck to breathe the fresh air. They had 
 made a great way from the land, of which 
 only a blue indication was visible, and the 
 breeze was still bearing them from it. Miss 
 Grey felt almost alarmed as, in Raleigh's 
 phrase, the craft lay gunnel under, and its 
 mast seemed cracking with the fulness of 
 its sails; but she was soon convinced of 
 being in no danger, and received as full en-
 
 THE PRIVATEER. 31 
 
 joyment from the beauty of the evening and 
 the novelty of her situation, as could be felt 
 by an affectionate heart, which was borne 
 from a happy home to new friends and a 
 new country. It was just the mood for her 
 new admirer to profit by, and Ardourly had 
 too much consideration to mar their happi- 
 ness by his presence — he sat at a distance 
 from them, and amused himself with a book; 
 so that, for two good hours, they met with 
 no interruption to the advancement of their 
 mutual good will ; and, ere they went below, 
 had their unconscious feelings pretty truly 
 unfolded to them in the wild song of a sea 
 boy on the rigging. 
 
 Thou art lovely in every place, 
 
 At every moment dear ; 
 But, oh ! thou art doubly so 
 
 When I gaze upon thee here.
 
 32 THE PRIVATEER, 
 
 The more we regret fond hearts, 
 We have left far o'er the tide, 
 
 The more we rely on the one 
 Which is beating by our side. 
 
 Yon planet that looks so bright. 
 When a thousand more are by. 
 
 Will it not be brighter far 
 
 When the rest have left the sky ? 
 
 They found Mr. and Mrs. M^Kay just 
 risen ; the former something more collected, 
 and the latter rather better — ^in her replies to 
 the gentlemen's inquiries there was a marked 
 difference ; to Henry she was very profuse 
 of her civility, while to his less fortunate 
 companion there was a studied shortness 
 and distance of manner, which rather sur- 
 prised him till he discovered the cause. The 
 mystery was soon out, for her lack of dis- 
 cretion left her character and propensities
 
 THE PRIVATEER. 33 
 
 open to general inspection, and the whole of 
 Raleigh's offence was deduced from the su- 
 perior prospects of his friend, of which, it 
 appeared, her husband had sufficiently in- 
 formed her to flatter certain ideas, ever on 
 the alert, of providing for her niece. Emily 
 knew very well what she was about, (for it 
 was by no means the first time she had been 
 the subject of such plotting), and she co- 
 loured with shame and vexation. Mrs. 
 M^Kay was doatingly, but not disinterest- 
 edly, fond of her ; she thought that the 
 beauty and accomplishments of her protegee 
 reflected credit on her own discernment in 
 bringing them forward ; she loved to have it 
 said, that she first discovered the dawning 
 beauty; that, but for her, the talent for 
 music, the dehcate voice, would have re- 
 mained uncultivated and unknown. But, in- 
 dependent of the satisfaction she received 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 34 THE PRIVATEER. 
 
 from appropriating to herself the full half of 
 the praises bestowed upon her niece, there 
 was great convenience in having such a per- 
 son about her ; for, during her maiden life, 
 she would otherwise have found some diflS- 
 culty in persuading the gentlemen to hand 
 her to her chair, and make themselves so 
 very useful as she frequently found them. 
 Besides this, there was infinite amusement 
 derived from the speculations she made for 
 her of a matrimonial nature ; she thought 
 women were born to be married, and for no- 
 thing else ; and, though very near out in her 
 calculations with regard to herself, nothing 
 could be said to shake this general principle. 
 On her first coming on board she had set 
 down one of the gentlemen for her nephew, 
 and was well pleased when Raleigh shewed 
 signs of a liking for Miss Grey. As she lay in 
 bed in the early part of the day, sick as she
 
 THE PRIVATEER. 35 
 
 was, she lent an attentive ear to their ttte-a- 
 ttte, and made sure that she discovered a 
 parti ah ty of such rapid growth as must lead 
 to serious proposals before the end of the voy- 
 age. This she took the earliest opportunity 
 of communicating to Mr. M^Kay, begging 
 him to find out all the young gentleman*s 
 history, that she might be prepared with a 
 reply ; but the disclosures her husband was 
 enabled to make, caused a material altera- 
 tion in her plans, and none but Ardourly 
 was to be the happy man. Whatever inti- 
 macy had taken place between Raleigh and 
 Emily was now a cause of chagrin ; and 
 she proceeded, with much despatch, to eflPect 
 a retrograde movement ; the hopes of the 
 former she meant to dissipate by her distant 
 coolness, and to turn those of the latter 
 to the advantages of the other connexion. 
 As soon as Henry could get rid of Mrs. 
 
 D 2
 
 36 THE PRIVATEER. 
 
 M'Kay's overwhelming courtesy, he re- 
 turned to the subject which most interested 
 him, and for which the shrewd old Scot 
 seemed prepared. " Why, as for saying 
 you had best go home again, I only meant 
 that our parts of the Highlands are in a per- 
 turbed state just now, and I would advise 
 none to go amongst them who are able to 
 stay away." 
 
 " I might ask, if this did not apply to 
 yourself as well as to me ; but what is the 
 disturbance you allude to ?" 
 
 Mr. M'Kay said, it was the desperation of 
 those who lately lived by running spirits, 
 who, by the interference of the military, 
 newly stationed at the most convenient 
 places for the prevention of that traffic, had 
 been driven, in many instances, from offences 
 against the revenue to a violation of life and 
 property.
 
 THE PRIVATEER. 37 
 
 Mrs. M'Kay looked horror-struck, but 
 her friend and well-wisher, Raleigh, endea- 
 voured to comfort her by vowing that Scot- 
 land was a villanous country, for, if a re- 
 spectable lady escaped from marauders, there 
 was imminent danger of her going through 
 the auto-da-fe ceremony for a witch. — Mrs. 
 M^Kay experienced another shock, and her 
 spouse, putting on his usual dry grin, ob- 
 served that she looked as if she expected to 
 be so honoured herself. 
 
 Henry was but ill satisfied with the old 
 gentleman's explanation, and his curiosity 
 increased, but the means of satisfying it 
 Were to be sought at a more convenient 
 season, when Mr. M^Kay might be less 
 wary and less desirous of discussing other 
 topics ; for, at present, he was revising and 
 correcting the whole system of natural phi- 
 losophy from the mite to the mammoth.
 
 38 THE PRIVATEER. 
 
 On the third day from that on which they 
 left London, our party found themselves 
 within sight of Leith, and Mrs. M'Kay now 
 began to renew the importunities with which 
 she had besieged Ardourly to join them in 
 their journey to the Highlands, instead of 
 traveUing by separate conveyances. Ar- 
 dourly objected to this proceeding, as Cap- 
 tain Raleigh, who was not invited, would then 
 be left to travel by himself; but the incon- 
 venience was soon remedied ; for, hostile as 
 Mrs. M^Kay was to Raleigh, she preferred 
 having his company to losing that of his 
 friend, and the invitation was immediately 
 extended to him. There was no danger of 
 an excuse here ; but it happened very unfor- 
 tunately, that after this point was settled, 
 Henry started another objection which was 
 not so easily to be overruled ; and this was, 
 the urgent necessity he professed to be
 
 THE PRIVATEER. 39 
 
 under of arriving at Invercraig, (a distance 
 of an hundred miles) on the following 
 evening; such rapidity would ill suit the 
 infirmities of Mr. M'Kay, who, to cut up 
 the whole plan at once, was obliged to stop 
 a day at Edinburgh on business. Great 
 was the disappointment of Mrs. M'Kay at 
 this obstacle ; but, as it was unavoidable, it 
 occurred to her that the first thing now to 
 be done was to retract her proposal to Ra- 
 leigh. It would have been too ill bred to do 
 this in a direct way, but she went as Httle 
 short of it as possible. " Perhaps, Captain 
 Raleigh," said she, " as Mr. Ardourly cannot 
 accompany us, you may wish to be absolved 
 from your engagement ; if so, I beg you will 
 use no ceremony with us." 
 
 " Indeed, I greatly prefer making the 
 journey with your Ladyship," replied Raleigh, 
 who perceived her drift, and highly enjoyed
 
 40 THE PRIVATEER. 
 
 the dilemma in which she had placed herself. 
 " Mr. Ardourly will do very well without 
 me." " But you forget that we are to stay 
 a day, and perhaps more, at Edinburgh." 
 
 " That is just what I wish to do myself." 
 
 " But it is possible we may stay a fort- 
 night." 
 
 " My dear Madam, that will suit me better 
 still." 
 
 Lady Brachenshaw was quite discon- 
 certed, but, after a moment's consideration, 
 replied, with a look which we put on when 
 we think we have made a capital hit. " It 
 is impossible that you can suffer Mr. Ar- 
 dourly to travel alone, when the country is 
 so infested by robbers." 
 
 " That is the very reason," returned the 
 provoking Captain, " why I should afford 
 the little protection in my power to your 
 Ladyship."
 
 THE PRIVATEER. 41 
 
 Mrs. McKay's resources were all exhausted, 
 and, to her consummate mortification, it was 
 settled that Raleigh was to occupy the place 
 in the vehicle which was intended for Henry. 
 This mortification was not at all lessened 
 by Mr. M^Kay, (who had hitherto been a 
 silent listener, and amused himself with con- 
 jecturing what his wife would say next,) for, 
 as soon as the bargain was ratified, he whis- 
 pered to her loud enough for the rest to 
 hear, " You have shot at a pigeon and killed 
 a crow, eh. Lady Brachenshaw V But above 
 all, (for he had taken a sort of liking to the 
 " humorous, daft lad," who had found it 
 would be good policy to attend to his learned 
 discourses,) he invited him to dine with them 
 that day at their hotel, and to spend the 
 evening in teaching Miss Grey to sketch 
 butterflies. 
 
 They were all now put ashore in the boat,
 
 42 THE PRIVATEER. 
 
 and Henry having obtained nothing further 
 from Mr. M'Kay than a caution as to where 
 he slept, (seeing that the beds in Scotland 
 were somewhat infested by the cimex lec- 
 tularius, or red bug of Linnaeus,) as soon 
 as he could provide himself and his ser- 
 vant with horses, bade adieu to his new 
 friends, and congratulating Raleigh on his 
 happy mode of conveyance, commenced his 
 journey.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Whence comest thou? What wouldest thon? Thy name t 
 
 Say, what's thy name ? 
 
 Thou hast a grim appearance, and tiiy face 
 
 Bears a command in't. Coriolanus. 
 
 1 HE first fifty miles presented no occur- 
 rence worthy of note, and Ardourly dis- 
 mounted late in the evening, to pass the 
 night at Cupar in Angus. Early the next 
 day he was mounted again, but had not 
 rode far before his steed, which was none 
 of the best, shewed evident signs that it 
 had not forgotten the labours of the pre- 
 ceding day. This unlucky recollection had 
 likewise considerable effect on the other 
 quadruped, which, from the badness of the 
 roads and the frequency of its stumbles.
 
 44 THE PRIVATEER. 
 
 contrived to fall dead lame. The further 
 the travellers went the worse grew the ani- 
 mals, and the less passable the ways, and, 
 at length they were reduced to the necessity 
 of dismounting to walk. There was now 
 full leisure for Henry to survey the scene 
 around him, but had there been less he 
 would possibly have admired it more : the 
 day was clear and sunny, and a high wind 
 swept the clouds in volumes round the crags 
 on either side of him; the valley between 
 them was prolonged in sympathetic desola- 
 tion, and not a living creature but the lessen- 
 ing eagle, not a house nor even a tree was to 
 be seen. Henry looked upon the length of his 
 journey and the means by which it was to be 
 accomplished, with about the same satis- 
 faction which we receive from the contem- 
 plation of a large bill and an empty purse, 
 but his countenance was suddenly brightened
 
 THE PRIVATEER. 45 
 
 and his mind roused from such painful cal- 
 culations, by the faint but distinct sound of 
 a drum* He strained his eyes in the direc- 
 tion, and perceived at a great distance, where 
 a small brook crossed the winding of the 
 road, a line of diminutive figures passing 
 over a thin aerial bridge ; these, he had no 
 doubt, were a party of soldiers who, he had 
 heard, were to leave Cupar that morning, 
 and halt for the night at the Spital of Glen- 
 shee ; and, as his situation was not very 
 agreeable, nor indeed very safe, he resolved 
 to do his best to overtake them, and halt 
 there likewise ; which, from the state of his 
 horses, would be the utmost he could per- 
 form that day, though still twenty-five miles 
 from his journey's end. 
 
 It was near the evening before he 
 came up with the objects of his pur- 
 suit, who were, as he surmised, the sol-
 
 46 THE PRIVATEER. 
 
 diers destined for Glenshee, where they ar- 
 rived about sun-set. It was a lone and 
 miserable public-house, (far different from 
 the smart inn now erected,) in the most 
 wild seclusion of the Grampians, and the 
 inhabitants, both in manners and appear- 
 ance, seemed made for the scenery around 
 them. As soon as the parties had come to 
 some understanding as to the wants of the 
 one and the capabihties of the other, the 
 accommodation was found to be choice and 
 abundant ; Ardourly and the officer being 
 to occupy the same dormitory with mine 
 host and hostess, the latter of whom passed 
 many eulogiums on the bed, which was as 
 large and beautiful as a gentleman could 
 wish. It was with rueful visages that the 
 travellers inquired if they were all to sleep 
 in the same bed, and they considered them- 
 selves fortimate in beino answered in the
 
 THE PRIVATEEK. 47 
 
 negative ; there was a fine curtain to draw 
 across the room, and, if the gentlemen 
 would not peep through the holes, it would 
 be as good as a wall. The other gentlemen 
 in the red coats, and the gentleman holding 
 the beasts, and the beasts themselves, should 
 have some heather in the stable. 
 
 Where there is no alternative, there is, 
 or should be, no dispute ; and the travellers 
 resolved to be satisfied with a promise, that 
 the poorness of their accommodation should 
 be fully atoned for by the richness of their 
 fare. To effect this laudable intention of 
 their entertainers, an instantaneous war was 
 waged with the cocks and hens ; and, a due 
 despatch being used in the other appertain- 
 ments to the feast, Ardourly soon found it in 
 a state of forwardness, and thought it was 
 now time to see if his horses were equally 
 fortunate with himself.
 
 48 THE PRIVATEER. 
 
 In the yard which enclosed the sorry 
 apology for a stable, he was somewhat sur- 
 prised to encounter the scrutiny of a stout raw- 
 boned young man, who appeared to regard 
 him with particular soUcitude. The wildness 
 of his whole figure seemed nearly allied to 
 the maniac ; but a single glance of his small, 
 grey, and deep-sunk eye, which flickered 
 like a glow-worm through his long white 
 hair, tangled and flaky as the forest pony, 
 bespoke a sharpness of intellect which might 
 have been creditable enough to the owner, 
 if every muscle of his flat and freckled face 
 had not combined to characterize the unde- 
 niable thief. His head was bare, as were 
 his feet and legs, his only covering being 
 a ragged tartan jacket and breeches of the 
 same, hanging over the knee in uncontined 
 tatters. If Ardourly was surprised at the 
 first sight, he was more so when this
 
 THE PRIVATEER. 49 
 
 ungainly object, bending forwards and slyly 
 beckoning, uttered something like his own 
 name ; at the same time, skulking round a 
 corner and looking about him with a cun- 
 ning timidity, with which he might be sup- 
 posed to preface an attack upon the hen- 
 roost. Having followed him to a place 
 where they were concealed from the persons 
 employed in rubbing down the horses, Henry 
 demanded what he wanted, but was an- 
 swered in Gaehc; he then pointed to the 
 house, signifying the necessity of an inter- 
 preter, but this by no means suited his 
 friend, who shook his head in unequivocal 
 disagreement. Having let him so far into 
 his mind, he proceeded to rummage with 
 both hands amongst the various crannies of 
 his small-clothes fur that which might be 
 used as a pocket ; as soon as the right hole 
 was found, a note was produced, addressed 
 
 VOL. I. . E
 
 50 THE PRIVATEER. 
 
 to Henry Arddurly, Esq., and, in a moment 
 the messenger was out of sight. 
 
 Ardourly hastily broke it open, and to his 
 astonishment, recognised the hand of his 
 late correspondent. 
 
 " Once more Mr. Ardourly is urged not 
 '' to despise the warning of one who is anxious 
 " for his welfare, but who finds it impossible 
 ** to serve him otherwise than in this mys- 
 " terious manner. Since he has ventured 
 " hither, he will do well to be cautious of all 
 " strangers, and silent upon the advice he has 
 ** received." 
 
 He felt more perplexed than ever; it 
 was now evident that Raleigh's surmise 
 was unfounded, and that these threatened 
 perils were not designed to detain him at 
 home, but really as the letters stated, to 
 dissuade him from coming to Scotland ; 
 since the bearer employed, and the wafer
 
 THE PRIVATEER. 51 
 
 which was scarcely dry, sufficiently proved 
 that the note he held in his hand was not 
 only written here, but within the last hour, 
 and consequently very near the spot on 
 which he stood. His first impulse was to 
 pursue the fugitive, but he was unsuccess- 
 ful ; for, though there was but one road, 
 and that straight enough to shew a much 
 greater distance than he could possibly have 
 gone in the time, yet the numberless sheep- 
 tracks and ravines which led from it to the 
 intricacies of the bordering hills, might have 
 enabled him to elude the observation of an 
 hundred pair of eyes, had he been so disposed. 
 Ardourly next had recourse to inquiry, but 
 could obtain no accounts of him, except 
 that his name was Wandering Willie, and 
 that he was very much in the habit of mis- 
 taking the goods of other people for his 
 own-
 
 52 THE PRIVATEER. 
 
 It was, perhaps, with more curiosity to 
 discover his fair friend, than fear of the 
 dangers which awaited him, that Henry 
 found himself involved in the dark web of 
 adventure; and, if he had sense to laugh 
 at the romantic visions of beauty in 
 distress, which, perforce crowded upon his 
 mind, they certainly formed the subject of 
 a very interesting reverie, which was only 
 broken by the landlady's vociferations for 
 the o;entleman that was to dine with the 
 Captain; with sundry apologies for Wan- 
 dering Willie, whose nimble fingers had 
 snapped up one of the roasted fowls, and 
 whose nimble feet had outstripped all like- 
 lihood of a re-capture. 
 
 The young officer being a type of most 
 of his profession, (that is to say, frank, gay, 
 and giddy,) proved a not inehgible compa- 
 nion in the gloom of the twilighted hills, nor
 
 THE PRIVATEER. 53 
 
 till he observed that he could not find the 
 way to his whiskey, did either of them 
 remember how long they had sat. But 
 now the soldier reluctantly discovered that 
 it was time to dispose of his men for the 
 night, and left the table, confounding the 
 hard fate which had sent him to catch 
 thieves, and sentimentalize in the moun- 
 tains. 
 
 While he was absent, Ardourly walked 
 to the window to contemplate the bold effect 
 of the moon which was just then partially 
 visible ; all was dark and silent beneatli, 
 except the faint and melancholy cry of the 
 muirfowl, which gave token that their heathy 
 domains were undisturbed by the habita- 
 tions of man. He looked and listened with 
 increasing interest as the full floating orb 
 ascended above the rugged outline of the 
 crags, and by degrees revealed the patches 
 of heath and pale grey stone which diver-
 
 54 THE PRIVATEER. 
 
 sified their sides. At one time he fancied 
 he saw figures moving on the road, but, 
 at that moment a cloud passing over the 
 moon, prevented him from ascertaining 
 whether he saw correctly; and, when the 
 light returned, nothing could be distin- 
 guished but the shadows of scattered frag- 
 ments. He believed he had been deceived, 
 and turning his eyes another way, perceived 
 some writing scratched on a pane of the 
 window ; which, on being examined in a direc- 
 tion which placed it opposite to the light, 
 proved to be poetry, and perfectly legible. 
 The formation of the letters, and its strange 
 accordance with the advice of his unknown 
 friend, convinced him at once that both 
 were from the same hand. 
 
 Yet hie thee back ; yon bank is bright 
 Where starry dew-drops catch the light.
 
 THE PRIVATEER. 55 
 
 And flow'rs, with tendrils twined, diffuse 
 Their mingling sweets from blended hues, 
 But dream not that thy limbs shall rest 
 Where the coy springling hide, like lovers newly 
 blest. 
 
 Yet hie thee back ; on yonder stream 
 Full gaily plays the living beam. 
 And rock and foliage seem to dance 
 As eddying waves on waves advance, 
 But rock shall wear, and wave shall sink 
 Ere thou shalt see thy face reflected from the 
 brink. 
 
 The wild deer proudly stalks the glen, 
 , The heath-cock chuckles far from men, 
 
 But them thy voice shall never scare 
 
 From peaceful muir or secret lair ; 
 
 The only breath of thine they find 
 Is when thy dying sigh comes struggling down the 
 wind. 
 
 While he was reading these lines over a 
 second time, a form passed quickly by, and
 
 56 THE PRIVATEER. 
 
 presently a stranger was ushered into the 
 room, with the landlady's regrets that there 
 was no other place to show the gentleman 
 into. Henry begged she would not think 
 of apologizing, and the stranger, with some 
 slight expression of unwillingness to intrude, 
 took his seat at the further end of the room. 
 For some minutes both were silent ; the one 
 continuing to muse over the poetry, and the 
 other patiently waiting till it should please 
 mine hostess to bring in his promised re- 
 freshment; but, being at length wearied 
 with the riddle which he could not solve, 
 Henry turned to break the ice with his new 
 companion, whose large glistening eyes alone 
 were visible from the dark corner he had 
 appropriated. They were fully bent upon 
 our hero ; at which, however, he was not 
 much surprised, (for, in a room for the ac- 
 commodation of travellers, there is little to
 
 THE PRIVATEER. 57 
 
 do but to stare at each other,) and he soon 
 succeeded in removing the distance between 
 them. At the same time, he found (what 
 the darkness had prevented him from seeing,) 
 that the person he conversed with was one of 
 a better order than he had expected to meet 
 in such a place. The conversation naturally 
 turned upon the sport of the muirs, which, 
 it seemed, he had been pursuing further than 
 he intended. '* But no matter," he said, 
 '' my volume and my fowling-piece have 
 often led me further than I was aware, and 
 have not unfrequently seduced me to a 
 heather bed, as they have to-night." 
 
 " You do not proceed to-night ?" said Ar- 
 dourly. 
 
 " I have some distance to go ; but the 
 weather is warm, and a lodging in the open 
 air will not be unpleasant." 
 
 " But have you no dread from the dis- 
 turbed state of the country ?"
 
 58 THE PRIVATEER. 
 
 The stranger answered with a shght tone 
 of irony — " What dread can there be when 
 our masters send so many brave soldiers 
 for our protection?" 
 
 The officer, having performed his duty, 
 now re-appeared, followed by the jingling 
 usquebaugh equipage, and the glimmer of a 
 farthing rush-light. " Good luck to the 
 boys," said he, " I have lodged them safe 
 ni the hen-house and pig-sty. They will 
 make but a sorry appearance when I march 
 off with the heroic remnant the fleas may be 
 pleased to leave me." 
 
 " What time do you propose starting in 
 the morning ?" asked Henry. — " As soon as 
 my warriors have done scratching them- 
 selves, which, I hope, will be soon after 
 sun-rise. Will you be ready to march by 
 that time?" 
 
 " If I might offer my advice and guid- 
 ance," interrupted the stranger, " you would
 
 THE PRIVATEER. 59 
 
 accompany my moon-light walk, which lies 
 in the direction you are going." 
 
 " Nay, you cannot be sure of that." 
 " Did you not tell me ? Then it was the 
 woman who shewed me in — My knowledge 
 of the country enables me to make the walk 
 to Invercraig a dozen miles shorter than it is 
 by the road." 
 
 " Indeed, I thank you for the offer, but 
 were I to accept it, I doubt if my arrival 
 would not be at too unseasonable an hour to 
 procure me admittance. If I might offer 
 my advice in return, I should recommend 
 you to arm yourself against your expedition 
 at the fuming bowl of our captain." So 
 saying, he left the room to try what disco- 
 veries he could make respecting the poetry,, 
 and likewise to find whether this stranger 
 had really learnt his destination from the 
 hostess ; which he was inclined to doubt.
 
 60 THE PRIVATEER. 
 
 believing that she was ignorant of it herself. 
 To the first question of " Who wrote the 
 verses ?" he received a " dinna ken ;" and 
 to the second, of " What company had been 
 there lately ?" mine hostess (for the honour 
 of her house), returned such a list that it 
 was impossible to say who might be the 
 poet. He then asked, " if she knew whither 
 he was going?" to which he received 
 another " dinna ken ;" and with this much 
 information he returned ; not altogether 
 sorry that he had declined a moon-light walk 
 with a person who seemed to know more of 
 his affairs than he had any need to do. In 
 addition to this, he did not exactly like the 
 appearance of his volunteer guide, whose 
 sallow countenance (though graced by good 
 features) seemed constrained to the expres- 
 sion of frank and gentlemanly civility, rather 
 than to possess it naturally; for, behind
 
 THE PRIVATEER. 61 
 
 this, there appeared a harshness of character, 
 and something approaching to a scowl, indi- 
 cative both of pride and ferocity. It was 
 possible that this might be the very person 
 against whom he was warned by his anony- 
 mous friend; and, when he recalled the 
 figures of several persons whom he believed 
 he had seen just before the stranger's ap- 
 pearance, he was well pleased to remember 
 how well the little inn was defended. He 
 re-entered the room, and found the stranger 
 engaged with a small pocket volume; the 
 refreshment he had ordered remained un- 
 touched, and he did not join in the con- 
 versation for some time ; only now and 
 then looking up, as the officer mentioned the 
 arrangement he had made in his new avoca- 
 tion of justice of the peace ; or, as Ardourly 
 spoke of his voyage and the companions of 
 it, which seemed to have particular interest.
 
 62 THE PRIVATEER. 
 
 " I have met old M'Kay," said the soklier, 
 '^ and he talked so knowingly about the 
 thieves, that, I swear, if it were not from his 
 decrepitude, I could almost believe him to be 
 the captain of the banditti." 
 
 " Dotard!" exclaimed the stranger, and 
 his eye fell again upon his book; but, think- 
 ing it necessary to explain, he added — " I 
 have seen him in Edinburgh — I hear he is 
 married !" 
 
 " Yes," said Ardourly, " and the bride 
 has pressed me to stay with them at Bra- 
 chenshaw ; but — " 
 
 The soldier laughed. " But you do not 
 wish to give the bridegroom cause of 
 jealousy? That is very considerate, but, if 
 you do not accept the invitation, I shall 
 certainly be your substitute and billet 
 myself upon him, for it is just the quar- 
 ter T am ordered to. Besides, it is said,
 
 THE PRIVATEER. 63 
 
 that he has a pretty relation staying 
 there." 
 
 The stranger again raised his dark eye, but 
 did not speak; and Ardourly rephed, that, 
 as he had not heard the young lady men- 
 tioned, he supposed that the old gentle- 
 man's philosophical pursuits and hymeneal 
 happiness had driven her from his mind. 
 " The Laird of Brachenshaw," he added, is 
 " likely to be well garrisoned, for my friend, 
 Captain Raleigh, intends to quarter upon 
 him likewise, in honour of his wife's niece." 
 
 "Do you mean Raleigh who commanded 
 a ship here in the North Sea?" " The 
 same." 
 
 The soldier said he was a gallant officer, 
 and he wished he had not been removed 
 from his station, which had since been over- 
 run by privateers. "Conceive," he conti- 
 nued, " one fellow has been cruising there (a
 
 64 THE PRIVATEER. 
 
 Frenchman), who had the impudence, not 
 long ago, to come on shore. A fisherman 
 saw him landed, towards night-fall, among 
 the rocks near Aberdeen." 
 
 " Indeed!" the stranger said, " Did he 
 not follow him ?" 
 
 " A man, supposed to be him, was traced 
 from Aberdeen to Kinkairn ; from whence 
 he took the road to Tullich, which, by-the- 
 bye," turning to Henry, " is not far from 
 Invercraig; so that you may, perhaps, fall 
 in with him. He is, of course, thought to be 
 a spy — so say my instructions," producing a 
 paper, and reading, " middle-aged, middUng 
 stature, strong, square built, black hair, 
 well favoured." — " Upon my word. Sir,'* 
 addressing the stranger, " you answer the 
 description in every thing but costume ; and 
 that tome premiere on the back of your book 
 would almost authorize me to detain you.
 
 THE PRIVATEER. 65 
 
 In faith, I must make you my prisoner till to- 
 morrow morning at least, unless you ransom 
 yourself by drinking a glass of my toddy, for, 
 as yet, you have not tasted a drop," The 
 stranger smiled. " I will rather pay the pe- 
 nalty than suffer the inconvenience ;" and, 
 having drank his glass and pocketed his 
 book, he observed it was time for him to 
 depart. " Perhaps, gentlemen, we may meet 
 again — till then, farewell." Thus saying, he 
 resumed his highland bonnet, and, throwing 
 his plaid over a great coat, fitted close to his 
 shape, bowed slightly, and was gone. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Come then, my dearest son, I '11 now give thee 
 
 A taste of my love to thee: be thou my deputy, 
 
 The factor and disposer of my business ; 
 
 Keep my accounts, and order my affairs ; 
 
 They must be all your own. Rowley. 
 
 -CiARLY in the morning Ardourly arrived 
 at Castleton, whence, taking leave of his 
 escort, he proceeded to Invercraig, of which 
 he came in sight, while its tall grey tower was 
 but just distinguishable through the sunny 
 haze which surrounded it. His way lay by 
 the side of the Dee, and the rush of the wa- 
 ter, mingling with the voice of the hnnet in the 
 brakes beside it, gave an additional cheerful- 
 ness to the feeling which was raised by the 
 termination of a long journey, and the imme- 
 diate prospect of meeting his kind benefac-
 
 THE PRIVATEER. 67 
 
 tor. Now and then, however, an unsatisfac- 
 tory thought intruded itself, which consider- 
 ably damped this pleasure ; and it arose from 
 the possibility that the domains, which he was 
 taught to look upon as his future property, 
 might become so to the detriment of others 
 who had better claims to them. This he had 
 often hinted to his friend, who as often assured 
 him that his fears were groundless ; but Ar- 
 dourly was nice in his ideas of honour and 
 justice, and when he accepted the proposal it 
 was with a degree of reluctance for which 
 few, perhaps, would have seen any occasion. 
 There was another reflection also, of which 
 he could not divest himself; namely, that 
 he had been persuaded to leave an honour- 
 able profession for an unworthy dependency, 
 and this without feeling his pride satisfied 
 by any ties of relationship which might war- 
 rant the adoption; a reflection which na- 
 
 F 2
 
 68 THE PRIVATEER. 
 
 turally brought with it a remembrance of the 
 many mortifications to which his new situa- 
 tion subjected him ; such as the Laird's ca- 
 price, the shghts of his acquaintance, and, 
 perhaps, the final disappointment of his ex- 
 pectations, with the pity, or derision, of all 
 who understood them. 
 
 Thus it was with a mixture of pain and 
 pleasure that Ardourly found himself at In- 
 vercraig, awaiting the appearance of its mas- 
 ter, who had not yet risen from his bed. He 
 had not been there many minutes when he 
 beheld, through the door w^hich opened into 
 the great hall, the streamers of a dressing- 
 gown, flying aloft with the rapid motion of 
 the wearer, and, presently, in darted the 
 tall, thin figure of Ayrton, of Invercraig, 
 with " Welcome, my son, a thousand and 
 a thousand times," which was backed 
 by an embrace so warm as left Ardourly
 
 THE PRIVATEER. 69 
 
 scarce breath enough to make a suitable 
 reply. 
 
 Mr. Ayrton's age was between fifty and 
 sixty, but he was much younger in spirit 
 and activity. He was a strong contrast to 
 the generality of his neighbours ; a secluded 
 life having, in no degree, impaired the polish 
 of an education in more fashionable circles ; 
 and the beau of the last century remained 
 the admiration of the present. So much was 
 this the case, that Henry half suspected, as 
 soon as his sables were thrown aside, and the 
 little white wig re-instated, that a new bride 
 might console him for the loss of the old 
 one ; an event which might materially alter 
 the course of his own future hfe, but, 
 whose idea, gave him no uneasiness, as it 
 would afford him a fair pretext to recede 
 from a compact he already began to repent. 
 But, in this supposition, it is probable that
 
 70 THE PRIVATEER. 
 
 Ardourly did not take into consideration the 
 many points of Mr. Ayrton's character which 
 were hostile to it. A second marriage 
 was not at all likely, when the want of an 
 heir only had forced him into a first ; and, 
 though the solemn look and decent shake of 
 the head might be very proper at the present 
 season, it was well known that his grief at 
 getting rid of his shackles was not equal to 
 his chagrin at putting them on. In short, 
 he was not a mariying man ; and rather pre- 
 ferred being the desire of the ladies in ge- 
 neral than the property of any one in parti- 
 cular; but, as this was only a sentiment jo- 
 cularly expressed by himself, it must not be 
 understood to imply any thing hke anti- 
 quated vanity, either of person or acquire- 
 ments; for he was the most unaffected of 
 human beings, and the genteel raillery, 
 which was his usual style of conversation.
 
 THE PRIVATEER^. 71 
 
 was as often exerted at the expense of what 
 he termed his own foppishness, as it was 
 against the roughness or other peculiarities 
 of his neighbours. 
 
 The whole establishment of Invercraig 
 corresponded, to a nicety, with the mind of 
 its possessor. The outward, castellated ap- 
 pearance of the building, prepared the visi- 
 tor for the rude interior and ungraceful hos- 
 pitality of other days; but, once over the 
 threshold, any one, suddenly transported 
 thither, might have believed himself in the 
 near neighbourhood of fashion, and far re- 
 moved from the barren hills, amongst which 
 it seemed almost a miracle how so much 
 elegance could be collected. And if, amongst 
 downy sofas^ gilded mirrors, and embroid- 
 ered curtains, there appeared an over-exact 
 taste in the minutiae of adornment ; the well- 
 assorted library, which was capacious enough
 
 72 THE PRIVATEER. 
 
 to allow a liberal distribution to every other 
 apartment, fully redeemed Mr. Ayrton's cha- 
 racter from the imputation of exclusive at- 
 tention to trifles. Sometimes, indeed, he 
 affected to be ashamed of the ornamental 
 part of his house, and laid the whole credit 
 of it to his wife; of whom we are sorry we 
 can say nothing, except that she was wholly 
 innocent of the charge ; and had been now 
 three months resident in the kirk-yard of 
 Crathie. 
 
 As soon as the good man had hugged and 
 squeezed the hand of his adopted as long as 
 he thought necessary, he remembered he 
 was but half shaved, and, conducting Ar- 
 dourly to the breakfast-table that he might 
 find employment till his return, withdrew to 
 finish his toilet. " You know," he said, as he 
 wheeled round with a flourish of his rose-co- 
 loured dressing-gown, " I was a beau in my
 
 THE PRIVATEER. 73 
 
 young days, and I have not yet managed to 
 reform." 
 
 Whatever disagreeable sensations Ar- 
 dourly might have felt at becoming depend- 
 ant on another, they were much lessened by 
 the exceeding kindness of his reception, and 
 he determined, since the die was cast, to tor- 
 ment himself no more with the possible con- 
 sequences; as for those which were de- 
 nounced upon him as the result of a disobe- 
 dience to his secret adviser, and of a sojourn- 
 ment in a country where he might chance to 
 have an enemy, (though who he might be, 
 and how he was made so, remained a mys- 
 tery), they caused him so little uneasiness, 
 that he resolved not to mention to his bene- 
 factor a subject which might be productive 
 of needless alarm. At all events, he would 
 say nothing of it till he could lay hands 
 on the carcase of wandering Willie, or ex-
 
 74 THE PRIVATEER. 
 
 tract something more comprehensible from 
 Mr. M'Kay. 
 
 In the mean time there was every thing 
 to make him happy. His mind had never 
 harmonized with the general society he had 
 quitted, but possessed a natural refinement 
 as different from the world of business 
 around him, as a solitary line of poetry amidst 
 a volume of prose. For such a one the 
 retirement of Invercraig was rich in charms, 
 which were not to be found elsewhere. There 
 was undisturbed leisure for the studies of 
 an enhghtened understanding, with means 
 as ample as could be enjoyed in a city ; 
 there was the blue dwelling-place of nature 
 for contemplation, with the fleet foot of her 
 mountain roe for diversion. 
 
 When Mr. Ayrton re-entered, he was 
 dressed in an old-fashioned, but handsome 
 suit of sables, with ornamental glass buttons,
 
 THE PRIVATEER. 75 
 
 silk stockings and pumps, as if he had been 
 preparing for a ball-room ; the only contra- 
 diction to such a surmise being a pair of 
 short, black spatter-dashes. He again em- 
 braced Ardourly, and, surveying him all 
 over, declared the two years of his absence 
 had made him all that he ought to be. 
 
 The few attempts the Laird of Invercraig 
 had made to look dismal at the first mention 
 of his departed lady were all he could afford 
 from his heart-felt pleasure, and he ceased, 
 at once and altogether, to resist the oppor- 
 tunity she had left him of once more en- 
 joying the liberty of a single man ; the arri- 
 val of Henry, therefore, was to be triumph- 
 antly celebrated with bagpipe and Highland 
 fling, and the Laird signified his intention 
 of mounting his nag, to bid the company 
 himself. " I scarcely remember how to 
 ride," he said, " but you shall school me
 
 76 THE PRIVATEER. 
 
 in the noble art. I have a better bit of 
 blood for you than you brought from Edin- 
 burgh, I promise you." 
 
 Ardourly was too old a horseman to feel 
 any fatigue from the distance he had already 
 come, and they went forth through glad 
 faces and bobbing heads, assembled from 
 every occupation about the premises to do 
 honour to their young master, with whose 
 frank good-nature and liberality they were 
 acquainted from former experience. The 
 Laird rode by his side the picture of exul- 
 tation; his upright body more erect than 
 ever, and his legs projecting before him like 
 a pair of shafts — the very cue of his brown 
 peruke seemed animated with glee ; dancing 
 merrily to the niggling shuffle of the gal- 
 loway, who snorted and cocked his tail in 
 all the pride of a half year's idleness. 
 
 Wherever they went, from the manse to
 
 THE PRIVATEER. 77 
 
 the farm, from the farm to the hovel, the 
 congratulations were loud and long; and, 
 as they conversed by the way, they conti- 
 nued to advance further and further in mu- 
 tual satisfaction ; the one, from a lively sense 
 of the many kind arrangements which had 
 been made for his comfort and amusement, 
 and the other, from an increasing convic- 
 tion that they could not have been made 
 for a protege, who would do more credit to 
 his choice. With such feelings, Ardourly 
 soon saw there had been no necessity for 
 his very peremptory resolves to forget the 
 inconveniences to which his new life was 
 exposed; for they appeared to him as the 
 shadows raised by a foolishly fastidious ima- 
 gination, and glided away without requiring 
 an effort to expel them. Indeed, he had 
 not a wish to be gratified — yes, one — he 
 found there would be one sort of society
 
 78 THE PRIVATEER. 
 
 indispensable amongst these mountain wil- 
 dernesses, over which they would cast a 
 romantic influence, and render lovelier what, 
 in all situations, was still most lovely. His 
 wish was to hear an account, corresponding 
 with that which had been given by the 
 young officer who had been his companion, 
 of Mr. McKay's pretty relation ; now the 
 solitary inhabitant of Brachenshaw. Mr. 
 Ayrton shook his head vdth a look of co- 
 mical gravity, and vowed he would coun- 
 tenance no practices against the serenity 
 of his Scottish maidens ; Jessie Colraith in 
 particular, because she happened to be the 
 fairest, as well as the best, of them all. 
 But Ardourly was not to be ralhed from his 
 subject, and discovered, what he never knew 
 before, that Miss Colraith was a near con- 
 nexion to Mr. Ayrton, and had not been 
 mentioned in his last visit to Invercraig,
 
 THE PRIVATEER. 79 
 
 from the sense of a painful detail which must 
 have followed ; but he was now come upon 
 a different footing, and it was necessary that 
 he should be informed of her history. 
 
 " Our country," the good Laird premised, 
 " has ever been a chosen scene of troubles, 
 and, you are aware, it was amongst these 
 that, some twenty years ago, I became ac- 
 quainted with my good friend, your father, 
 who was then a soldier ; but you are igno- 
 rant (perhaps, from his dislike to the sub- 
 ject,) of the particular circumstances under 
 which that acquaintance commenced. 
 
 " My kinsman, Colraith of Gleneldie, had 
 made himself mistrusted by the prevaihng 
 party, from the harmless offence of not em- 
 bracing it ; he was a man devoted to peace 
 and to an amiable wife, from whom a hard 
 sentence, built upon unjust accusations, 
 condemned him to banishment ; and his
 
 80 THE PRIVATEER. 
 
 estates were confiscated. The man who ex- 
 pelled him upon his hopeless pilgrimage, 
 and destroyed the mansion of his happiness, 
 was your father. Burning with the ardour 
 of a disposition, which twenty years have 
 somewhat sobered down, I suspected he 
 had gone beyond his commission, and 
 sought redress. But he had only done a 
 duty which he dared not disobey, and it 
 appeared to have been one so truly hostile 
 to his feelings, that instead of the enemy I 
 had looked for, he became my friend. Gle- 
 neldie's wife had taken refuge with your 
 whimsical acquaintance, M'Kay of Brachen- 
 shaw; but, though we afterwards obtained 
 the restitution of his property to her and 
 her infant, we could not comfort her — ^her 
 husband was irrevocably banished, and — she 
 died. Gleneldie too must be dead, for I 
 have not heard of him these many years.
 
 THE PRIVATEER. 81 
 
 Jessie has remained at Brachenshaw ever 
 since; the child of simple and affecting 
 excellence ; for, though her fortune amply 
 supplies her with the means of following her 
 inchnations, whatever they might be, her 
 whole attention is confined to the old man's 
 comforts, and an unpretending kindness to 
 all who need it." 
 
 " I am afraid," said Henry, " the society 
 of the new lady of Brachenshaw will not add 
 much to her happiness. Suppose, my dear 
 Sir, you ask her to take up her residence 
 at Invercraig ? Her old relation, in his new 
 circumstances, may not be sorry to part 
 with her?" 
 
 " What stay with young fellows like us ! 
 Well, be it so, with all my heart. Perhaps 
 we may find her a husband between us. 
 
 " Upon my word, it is not at all impos- 
 sible, if she will forgive in the son the un- 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 82 THE PRIVATEER. 
 
 willing duty of the father ; and, I will bear 
 your invitation to her to-morrow." 
 
 Ardourly's high-wrought imagination was 
 ringing the changes upon this new charm 
 of his Scottish hfe, without once calculating 
 on the possibility of an objection on the 
 part of the young lady, when the course 
 of their visits to the stragglers of the muir 
 brought them to the foot of the thunder- 
 rifted Loch-na-Garr, which they surveyed 
 against the sun, in deep shadow. The 
 bright summer clouds were sleeping on its 
 triple-peaked summit, and the mist of a 
 hundred rivulets was creeping up its side, 
 disguising its rugged crags, and softening 
 and uniting its many colours into one ma- 
 jestic and unvaried sheet of ethereal blue. 
 The only sign of. life in its great stillness, 
 was the steady wheel of the eagle, which 
 seemed rejoicing over the unassailable secu-
 
 THE PRIVATEER. 83 
 
 rity of its eyrie, and shrieking homage to 
 the genius of the surrounding hills. 
 
 While they were admiring the magnifi- 
 cence of this scene, the Laird told Henry 
 that whenever he chose to ascend, he must 
 not forget to look out for the picturesque 
 abode of a personage who would give 
 him as dainty a repast as he could wish for, 
 and tell his fortune besides. — He meant the 
 famed Kitty Rankie, whose familiar appro- 
 priation of what did not belong to her, had 
 made it convenient for her to forego all 
 approximation to those who had any thing 
 to lose ; while her well-tutored offspring, 
 yclept Wandering Willie, was employed to 
 market for her, in conjunction with his 
 other avocation as spy for the smugglers. 
 
 Ardourly turned at the name of Wandering 
 Wilhe, and asked if it were likely that he 
 would be found with his mother ; but was 
 
 G 2
 
 84 THE PRIVATEER. 
 
 told that he was never to be found any- 
 where, or would long since have occupied 
 a place in the Tolbooth. 
 
 " I have, nevertheless, a great mind to 
 make the attempt. You must know, the 
 gentleman is an acquaintance of mine, and 
 dined at my expense yesterday. Yonder is 
 a boy to hold my horse, and a man who 
 will, perhaps, shew me the way, while you 
 jog leisurely on." 
 
 As this person approached, with a gun 
 and several dogs, Henry recognised an old 
 friend, and the Laird, wishing them an 
 agreeable visit, did as he had been desired. 
 
 " Kenneth," said Ardourly, " I rejoice to 
 see you !" and Kenneth was no less so to 
 see his young master. He was a young man 
 who called himself game-keeper, but was, 
 indeed, so much the Laird's favourite, that 
 he employed himself pretty nearly as he
 
 THE PRIVATEER. 85 
 
 pleased. His slender form and pale face, 
 which was handsome and full of expression, 
 were the certain indication of the mountain 
 bard. There was poetry in every tone of 
 his voice, in every fold of his plaided gar- 
 ment, and the white collar, which fell un- 
 confined over his neck, displayed his throat 
 with a grace and negligence which were 
 equally remarkable. His self-educated mind 
 was of that stamp, which, born to somewhat 
 better prospects, still retained enough of its 
 natural gaiety to struggle with the melancholy 
 occasioned by disappointment; it was mo- 
 dest and grateful ; and the praise which 
 Henry bestowed upon his wild poesy was 
 repaid by a devotion, perhaps, the warmer 
 from the ridicule which was lavished upon 
 him by his less-gifted companions. He had 
 never been so happy as when ranging the 
 wilds with Ardourly, and they now bent
 
 86 THE PRIVATEER. 
 
 themselves to the steep of the mountain in 
 the hvely conversation of kindred spirits ; 
 tempered, however, on the part of Kenneth, 
 by a diffidence, of which no famiUarity could 
 make him forgetful. 
 
 After much labour, and when they had 
 proceeded about half-way to the summit, 
 they gained a small flat, where they stopped 
 to breathe. In the midst of it was a little 
 lake, surrounded by huge crags, and, above 
 these, the irregular peaks of the mountain 
 formed a scene peculiarly adapted for the 
 residence of the strange being they were 
 seeking. They looked round them, but 
 could discover no traces of a habitation ; 
 and, indeed, it was no easy matter to dis- 
 tinguish a solitary hovel in such a place, 
 where, if seen, it might be taken for one of 
 the numberless fragments around it. 
 
 '* It should be somewhere hereabouts,"
 
 THE PRIVATEER. 87 
 
 said Kenneth, " and see yonder, behind 
 these stones, if there is not the steam of the 
 old girl's kettle !" 
 
 They had some distance to clamber before 
 they obtained a sight of the hut, which was 
 constructed against a rock with the rude 
 materials which nature had scattered near 
 it in such abundance. It was at the end 
 of a narrow defile, between two precipices, 
 which completely enclosed it on every side 
 but the entrance, so as to protect it from 
 the winds which, otherwise, might have 
 swept it off hke a leaf in autumn. A small 
 rivulet which issued from one side, and, 
 crossing the path, disappeared at the other, 
 added to the beauty and convenience of the 
 spot ; and, by the side of this, was seen the 
 most appropriate figure a painter could have 
 introduced. She sat with her back towards 
 the intruders, and was busily employed in 
 washing rags.
 
 88 THE PRIVATEER. 
 
 Kenneth whispered, " She has not often 
 such a tender regard for her wardrobe; I 
 guess she '11 be looking out for a holiday. 
 Poor body, it is a lonely life for her ; she is 
 hunted out of society for a witch and a thief 
 too, and she is only one of them/* 
 
 Ardourly could hardly help laughing at 
 Kenneth's compassionate defence of Kate's 
 character, but bade him be silent while they 
 observed her more closely. The articles she 
 had washed were spread beside her to dry, 
 and she was now preparing to immerse one, 
 which, from its quality, seemed to have been 
 borrowed from a more fashionable owner. 
 Kenneth looked over her shoulder to exa- 
 mine it, while she muttered to herself, with 
 a tone of admiration, her praises on " the 
 flimsy bit," which would assuredly be a 
 charm against all future evil. 
 
 " You may say that, Kitty Rankie," in- 
 terrupted Kenneth, " for it has been pressed
 
 THE PRIVATEER. 89 
 
 to the bosom of the young lady of Brachen- 
 shaw." 
 
 Kate started up — " Eh, Kenneth, ye made 
 me jump!" 
 
 " Ay, and you shall jump higher still, 
 Kate ; you shall be whipped for thiev- 
 ing. How came you by the young lady's 
 scarf?" 
 
 " It will not be the young lady's scarf, 
 Kenneth. You will be always full of fancies 
 about her ; as if nobody else had fine gear. 
 Lay it down, ye song-scratching loon ; lay it 
 down, and make me a rhyme upon it, or else 
 go and hang yourself." 
 
 " Not yet, Kate," he replied, producing a 
 small whiskey bottle — " we must have a cup 
 together first — take a swig, old girl ; and 
 make haste, before the devil runs away with 
 you." 
 
 Kate drank deep. " Eh, Kenneth, it
 
 90 THE PRIVATEER. 
 
 takes one's breath away ! Come in, ye puny 
 lath, and I '11 give you to eat. There is a 
 bonny pullet in the pot." 
 
 " Where did you steal it? No, I will have 
 nothing to say to it ; you never say grace, 
 for fear you should affront old Nick !" 
 
 The dame was going to reply, but, turning 
 her head, perceived Ardourly, who briefly 
 paid his compliments, and begged to be in- 
 troduced to Mr. Wandering Willie. " He 
 brought me a letter yesterday, and I forgot 
 to pay him for his trouble." 
 
 Kate seemed rather confounded ; but, af- 
 ter a moment's hesitation, declared she knew 
 nothing of him, and had quite disinheiited 
 him for his ungodly life. Nevertheless, she 
 would have no objection to take care of the 
 money his honour might be pleased to 
 leave." 
 
 " Ay, Kate, I always knew you were an
 
 THE PRIVATEER. 91 
 
 honest woman ; but look at this purse, and 
 tell me, who sent him to the Spital of Glen- 
 shee?" 
 
 " It was a brave purse," Kate said, " but 
 she knew no more of the letter than she did 
 of her wicked Willie, who might very Hkely 
 be in the Tolbooth, if he was not hanged 
 already." 
 
 Henry left no means untried to ascertain 
 the real history of his mysterious corre- 
 spondence ; but the wily beldam, in the 
 course of her predatory life, had gained too 
 much experience in courts of law to be dis- 
 comfited by cross-questions ; and our hero 
 found, to his mortification, that he must re- 
 turn as ignorant as he came. 
 
 " I have a great mind," said he, as a last 
 resource, " to take you to Invercraig, and 
 see what he can do with you." 
 
 " Do, and I '11 go bhthely — there is rare
 
 92 THE PRIVATEER. 
 
 cheer at the Laird's — Kenneth, give me my 
 mantle ; and do not speer as if your young 
 lady's bosom was beneath it still. — ' See 
 what the Laird will do with me/ did his ho- 
 nour say ? We will make ourselves so fine, 
 there will be no saying what he may do with 
 me, now the mistress is gone." 
 
 " Well, well, Kate ; we will save him the 
 temptation ; and, for fear you should be too 
 much for the morals of your friends, I must 
 even make bold with your piece of finery. — 
 Nay, never mind parting with it ; if I find it 
 is not stolen, I will give you double the value 
 — ^meantime, here is a crown to keep you 
 honest." 
 
 Kate begged to have Kenneth's bottle 
 thrown into the bargain; and Ardourly 
 walked off, well satisfied with his purchase, 
 which he meant to have an opportunity of 
 restoring to the fair owner, the next day
 
 THE PRIVATEER. 93 
 
 " And how came you, my good Kenneth, to 
 know this belonged to Miss Colraith ?" The 
 pensive countenance of the poet was lighted 
 with a ray of enthusiasm. " She was the 
 first to encourage my humble muse, and her 
 bright face will be the last I shall forget. — 
 Every trifle that she has looked upon my 
 memory holds sacred." 
 
 " But how could old Kate have got it?" 
 Kenneth answered, that she was in the 
 habit of going to Brachenshaw for charity, 
 and, when she received one thing, gene- 
 rally stole another. 
 
 Ardourly had paid so long a visit that the 
 Laird was at home before him, complaining 
 bitterly that the high-fed fidget of his gal- 
 loway had galled him worse than a travel- 
 ling haberdasher on his first excursion, but 
 the inconvenience did not take from the 
 keenness of his wit, which was exercised,
 
 94 THE PRIVATEER. 
 
 without mercy, on the expedition of the 
 following day. 
 
 " But," said he, as a wind up, " are you 
 aware that you have a rival in this affair ; 
 or did my fair cousin's lowly admirer allow 
 you undisputed possession of her cast-off 
 apparel? That scarf is an old favourite, and 
 has been the subject of his muse. I had 
 once occasion to intrude within his sanctum, 
 and gathered, amidst its poetical confusion, 
 a few scattered fragments, which might not 
 be intended for public admiration ; but here 
 they are — somewhat rough and incorrect, 
 perhaps, but, as they are purloined from the 
 workshop, it is reasonable to suppose they 
 may not have received the last polish." 
 
 The lines to the scarf came first, and ran 
 as follows : — 
 
 Thou silken thing, so rich and rare, 
 How coyly art thou clinging there !
 
 THE PRIVATEER. 95 
 
 Now, wreathed in folds of maiden grace, 
 Thou seem 'st to woo the winds embrace ; 
 And now, with blush of varied stain, 
 Thou 'rt fluttering from its touch again ; 
 'Till, all confused with modest haste, 
 Thou'st wound thee round my lady's waist. 
 
 Oh, thou art like the meek-eyed maid 
 Whose snowy neck thou lovestto shade ! 
 So fearful, and so passing fair. 
 We must not praise — yet how forbear ? 
 
 Thou flimsy silk, so closely press'd, 
 Tell me how beats my lady's breast — 
 If calmly sweet its pulses chime 
 To thoughts beyond yon starry clime, 
 Or vibrate to the wilder power 
 Of passion in its youthful hour. 
 
 If love the theme, oh timely say, 
 Her sighs are like the sighs of May, 
 And, while one budding hope they cherish, 
 Scatter an hundred more to perish !
 
 96 THE PRIVATEER. 
 
 If Heaven, oh let her ask the grace 
 Of him who wants a resting-place, 
 And leave, while barr'd from bliss above, 
 To worship where he dare not love ! 
 
 Thou simple banner of my muse, 
 Well may I gaze upon thy hues ! 
 No chieftain's standard ever drew 
 More captives in its train than you ; 
 And could I, when this heart is cold. 
 But sleep within thy sacred fold, 
 The victor, on his proudest seat, 
 Might envy me my winding-sheet.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Upon her eye-lids nianj' graces sate. 
 Under the shadow of her even browes. 
 Working belgardes and amorous retrate ; 
 And everie one her with a grace endowes, 
 And everie one with meeknesse to her howes : 
 So glorious mirrhour of celestiall grace, 
 And soveraine mouiment of mortall vovves, 
 How shall frayle pen descrive her heavenly face, 
 For feare tbroagh want of skill her beauty to disgrace'? 
 
 Fairy Queen. 
 
 1 HE residence of Mr. M^Kay was about 
 ten miles from Invercraig, on the Dee, nearly 
 opposite Castleton. It was a tall, grey 
 building, half house and half castle, situ- 
 ated on a knoll of considerable height; 
 so as to command an extensive view of the 
 curves of the river through its rugged and 
 abrupt scenery. The ground beneath it was 
 adorned with the varied tints of fir and 
 weeping birch almost interminably, and, on 
 one side overhung a deep ravine, down 
 
 VOL. 1. 11
 
 98 THE PRIVATEER. 
 
 which the small river Quoich dashed with 
 an impetuosity that was heard at consi- 
 derable distance. It was at noon-day when 
 Ardourly, whose way had been on the op- 
 posite bank, forded the Dee nearly where it 
 received the sparkling gush of this little 
 stream. He looked up at the sunk windows 
 of the old, non-descript tenement, expecting 
 to discover a face, about which his curiosity 
 increased at every step ; but it was not to 
 be so gratified; and he was ushered up 
 stairs and down stairs, through long pas- 
 sages, and round sharp angles; circumna- 
 vigating all the alterations and additions 
 which had been made to the ancient tower 
 by the present owner and his predecessors 
 for a dozen generations, till he found himself 
 in the Laird's ain room, where he w^as left 
 to observe and meditate till Miss Colraith 
 could be advertised of his visit. The apart-
 
 THE PRIVATEER. 99 
 
 ment bore evident marks of the universal 
 genius of the master ; in one corner was an 
 old spinet, in another a galvanic battery, in 
 a third a patent medicine-chest, and, in a 
 fourth, a large glass-case of dried butterflies 
 and stuffed monkeys, with sundry specimens 
 of shells, flowers, and monstrosities. The 
 book-shelves were loaded with tattered vo- 
 lumes, containing the elements of all know- 
 ledge ; but the best dates of the progres- 
 sive advancement of second childhood, were 
 afforded by the uninterrupted collection 
 of pictures. Those which, from the appear- 
 ance of the frames, had been the first to 
 adorn the walls, were chosen with much 
 taste ; but, in proportion as the frames were 
 seen to be more new, their contents became 
 less and less valuable ; and, where the gilding 
 was recent, they were so perfectly outre as 
 to render it almost incredible that the former 
 
 li 2
 
 100 THE PRIVATEER* 
 
 ones could have been selected by the same 
 hand. This decay of mind was likewise 
 visible in the numerous statues of all sizes, 
 which were stuck in every direction ; some 
 good and some bad, some fit to be seen, 
 and others not ; many of them were clad, 
 Hindoo fashion, with a small apron of rag, 
 and many were turned with their faces to 
 the wall. The whole were covered with 
 dust, which had been accumulating for years, 
 probably, lest they should be damaged in 
 removing it; though this was a needless 
 care, as every, thing in the room was old, 
 broken, and seemingly forgotten, excepting 
 the case of natural curiosities and the paint- 
 ings, the latter of which were doomed to 
 be touched and re-touched with endless 
 perseverance, whenever the weather or other 
 causes withheld Mr. M'Kay from his out- 
 door researches.
 
 THE PRIVATEER. 101 
 
 Henry could not exactly reconcile it to 
 his ideas of delicacy, that Miss Colraith 
 should see him in this mass of nudity — this 
 connoisseur's harem — ^and received, with sa- 
 tisfaction, a summons to make another cir- 
 cumbendibus of the Brachenshaw chaos to 
 the presence of its young lady. The jour- 
 ney was performed, in spite of Cupids and 
 Venuses, without kicking over a single 
 statue ; and the grace with which he was 
 welcomed was quite enough to finish the 
 work which had been so busily carried on by 
 imao-ination. Jessie Colraith was the exact 
 opposite to the being whom he had looked 
 for ; and it was, perhaps, from this cause 
 that she appeared so transcendently beyond 
 her. He had expected to see the fair-haired, 
 blue-eyed, genuine maid of Albyn, such 
 as had formed the theme of song from Scot- 
 land's earliest minstrel ; but the slender, tall,
 
 102 THE PRIVATEER. 
 
 and elegant figure which he now beheld, 
 was black-eyed and raven-haired — not that 
 bold black eye whose lustre is the triumph 
 of conscious captivation, but the mild, de- 
 clining orb whose languid radiance shone 
 through the long lashes like a tremulous 
 moon-beam on the midnight waters. Her 
 dark eye-brow was narrow but regular, and 
 arched in singular contrast to the pure white- 
 ness of a Grecian forehead; and, if her 
 cheek wore not the flush of mountain-health, 
 it was not sickly, for the scented blush 
 from the virgin bosom of the white rose 
 was breathing and mantling through its 
 transparency. The cotitour of her counte- 
 nance was altogether of a stamp with her 
 forehead ; but, when she spoke, it was a 
 question which was the loveliest, her voice 
 or her person : it dwelt on the mind like the 
 tale that dehghted our childhood — it was
 
 THE PRIVATEER. U)3 
 
 plaintive as the thought of absent friends, 
 and thrilhng as the hope of meeting them. 
 Henry seated himself by her with a con- 
 viction that he never had seen so fair a 
 creature in his hfe. Her first care was to 
 apologize for the time she had kept him 
 waiting, and the apartment he had been 
 conducted to, which she beheved to be only 
 a lumber-room ; not forgetting to assure 
 him she had never seen the contents of it. 
 But he was too much engaged in observing 
 the maiden confusion of her appearance 
 even to smile at the apprehension which 
 occasioned it, and felt that he could gaze 
 on her for ever, without thinking of one 
 earthly thing besides. Unfortunately, such 
 beatitude was not allotted to him, since he 
 was limited to a morning visit, which could 
 not, reasonably, comprise more than half 
 an hour, and had, in that short time, to make
 
 104 THE PRIVATEER. 
 
 a proposal ot" very great importance. It 
 was necessary, however, to watch the proper 
 opportunity for commencing this subject, 
 and, since he felt not a little anxious as to 
 the result, he lost no time in hitting upon 
 one which would lead to it. 
 
 He told her he had been a passenger with 
 Mr. M'Kay and his party from England, 
 and had the pleasure of calling to give a 
 good account of them ; this produced many 
 inquiries respecting the additions to the 
 Brachenshaw establishment ; the younger of 
 whom afforded a description with which she 
 was perfectly charmed. " If,'' she said with 
 a smile, *' I am as lucky in the society of 
 Mrs. M'Kay as I shall be in that of her 
 niece, they will, indeed, be valuable acqui- 
 sitions to our solitary habitation." 
 
 " Alas," replied Ardourly, " I fear you 
 are of too sanguine a disposition ! It is hardly
 
 THE PRIVATEER. 105 
 
 to ])e expected that you should find them 
 both such as I have described Miss Grey. 
 But will Miss Colraith permit me to speak 
 without disguise ?" 
 
 " Can you doubt it ? my curiosity must 
 naturally be great to hear your opinion ; 
 and, as I have not yet had an opportunity 
 of forming any great friendship for my new 
 relation, I shall not quarrel with you even 
 if it should fall short of my hopes." 
 
 " I speak then," said Henry, who per- 
 ceived that the distance between him and 
 his fair companion was likely to be com- 
 promised in a confidential conversation, even 
 before he got to the object of his mission, 
 " I speak then with a full confidence in that 
 assurance." 
 
 With such encouragement, he did not 
 fail to do justice to his cause, by enlarg- 
 ing upon Mrs. M'Kay's various quahties
 
 106 THE PRIVATEER. 
 
 as forcibly as he could ; watching earn- 
 estly to see if Miss Colraith's horror was 
 proportionate to his exertions. Two or three 
 times, she fancied, from his pausing, that the 
 picture was finished, but found he was only 
 considering where it would admit of an addi- 
 tional touch. At last, she laughingly broke in 
 upon him, and declared she would hear no 
 more last words ; persuaded, as she was, that 
 he was actuated by nothing but malice. — 
 " For how," said she, " is it possible that, 
 in an acquaintance of three days, you should 
 have observed as many disagreeable quah- 
 ties as any one else could have discovered in 
 twice the number of years ?'* 
 
 " You do me as much injustice as 
 you suppose me to be guilty of towards Mrs. 
 M^Kay. All the qualities, good or bad—" 
 
 " Nay, you have not mentioned one good 
 one."
 
 THE PRIVATEER. 107 
 
 " All the qualities, then, that I have enu- 
 merated, are either what I observed myself, 
 or what must, infallibly, be the companions 
 of such. In short, 1 have not the least 
 doubt that your new relation will make you 
 peifectly miserable, unless — " 
 
 " I am dehghted you have a remedy to 
 propose !" 
 
 " Unless you will condescend to hsten to 
 a proposal from your excellent friend, Inver- 
 craig; which is simply this — that you will 
 permit him to offer you a home where his 
 greatest study will be to ensure your hap- 
 piness. The jealousy of the new mistress of 
 Brachenshaw — " 
 
 " Pardon me for interrupting you. If she 
 is the person you describe her, there will be 
 the greater need of my attendance on the 
 aged friend who has taken care of my in- 
 fancy ; and, whatever may be the treatment
 
 108 THE PRIVATEER. 
 
 I meet with, I shall submit to it with pa- 
 tience.'* 
 
 " But, supposing. Miss Colraith, that 
 Mr. M^Kay himself should approve of the 
 plan ?" 
 
 " Why, even then, I could not leave his 
 fast decHning years to the care of strangers. 
 I have a debt of gratitude to the poor old 
 man, which must bind me to him closer as 
 his infirmities increase. For the kind pro- 
 posal, of which you are the bearer, and 
 the earnestness with which you seem in- 
 clined to press it, pray give and receive 
 my best thanks." 
 
 She paused ; for the bare idea of leaving 
 her old relation had filled her eyes with 
 tears ; and Ardourly gazed on her, now, with 
 admiration of her sentiments as well as her 
 beauty. " T will not press any thing that 
 displeases you, but, still, I must lament the
 
 THE PRIVATEER. 109 
 
 disappointment your answer will occasion our 
 good friend, Invercraig." 
 
 " Tell him," said Jessie, ashamed, and 
 smiling at her tears, that in all things else he 
 may command me — provided he sends an- 
 other messenger : for, I protest, I shall be 
 ashamed to see Mr. Ardourly after listening 
 to so much of his calumny." 
 
 " I shall, undoubtedly, deliver the latter 
 part of your message, for so great a disagree- 
 ment on our first acquaintance is not likely 
 to be the forerunner of much harmony ; 
 and so, to prevent a reconciliation, whicli 
 might be productive of a great many disa- 
 greeables to us both, and a great many long 
 Brachenshaw rides to myself, I will wish you 
 good morning — ' nursing my wrath to keep 
 it warm.' " With this he playfully drew the 
 scarf from his bosom, and then more care-
 
 IJO THE PRIVATEER. 
 
 fully replaced it. Miss Colraith's colour 
 rose high, and as quickly receded. " Tell me/* 
 she said, ^^ where did you find that scarf?" 
 
 " Truly, 1 fear to tell you, unless you 
 will promise not to indict me under the black 
 act for keeping unholy company ; but, since 
 you look so anxious about it, I will even 
 confess that I obtained it from a sibyl, who 
 foretold, that whenever 1 restored it to the 
 lawful owner, my heart would accompany it. 
 Will Miss Colraith kindly assist me in the 
 discovery of the lady V* But he soon saw 
 that she was really agitated, and hastened to 
 tell her the true circumstances under which 
 he became possessed of it ; not without some 
 surprise at the earnestness with which she 
 treated the subject. She listened with eager- 
 ness — " That scarf — I had lost it — it was my 
 mother's — She leant her head upon her hand
 
 THE PIUVATEER. Ill 
 
 for a moment, and, when she raised it, her 
 countenance had gained a constrained com- 
 posure. She smiled, but her smile had more 
 of pain than mirth in it. " And so I find 
 Mr. Ardourly a follower of cunning women ! 
 of course, he went to hear what destiny was 
 in store for him — what lady was sighing in 
 secret, and by what valorous deeds she 
 might be won?" 
 
 " I went about a much less important 
 matter ; and one which required much less 
 skill to satisfy me, but I was only successful 
 in obtaining that valued relic; of which, 
 however, I must not monopolize the whole 
 credit, but content myself to share it with 
 my friend Kenneth ; whose humble ge- 
 nius, I fear, you have patronised to a dan- 
 gerous extent — and now, farewell." 
 
 " Let me repeat to you, Mr. Ardourly, 
 that I am much indebted to you for both
 
 112 THE PRIVATEER. 
 
 the objects of your visit — and — and, per- 
 haps, you may not nurse your wrath so long 
 but that, when you next come this way, you 
 may call, to form a better opinion of Mrs. 
 M'Kay." 
 
 " And a worse one of Miss Colraith, I 
 hope ; or I shall never return to Invercraig." 
 With this polite speech he was wheeling out 
 of the room, when an unlucky Cupid (for 
 the statues and pictures abounded here as in 
 the other apartment, though they displayed 
 less natural beauty) received such a saluta- 
 tion from his foot, as quickly caused him to 
 vacate his pedestal with the loss of both 
 bow and quiver. Ardourly looked aghast ; 
 and Jessie's dark eye sparkled with amuse- 
 ment. " If," said she, '* the little god has 
 not his revenge for such an insult I shall, in^ 
 deed, be surprised." 
 
 " Alas," replied Henry, he is revenged
 
 THE PIllVATEER. 113 
 
 already ! but what is to be done ? I fear I 
 have less wit to repair the damage than 
 awkwardness in causing it." 
 
 " Do not be uneasy— I assure you Mr. 
 M^Kay will consider the httle fellow much 
 more valuable from the accident. He looks 
 considerably more antique and precious than 
 he did. My poor father (as I am used to 
 call him) has not the taste he. once possessed 
 in these things — Look round, and see the 
 numerous tokens of returning childishness — 
 like an infant, he must imitate all that he 
 sees ; and in such a way ! Here are partly 
 the results of a visit to the elegant drawing- 
 room of Invercraig. The tables adorned with 
 festoons of chandeher drops; the bits of 
 painted glass in the windows, the baubles 
 and play- things in every direction! All these 
 are insurmountable reasons why I should not 
 leave him entirely in the hands of strangers 
 
 VOL. I. 1
 
 114 THE PRIVATEER. 
 
 — I have learnt all his ways ; to humour all 
 his whims ; and, indeed, I have learnt to love 
 him sincerely. When it shall please Heaven 
 to take him, I shall feel a void in my heart 
 which I dread to look upon !" 
 
 '^ Whenever that event takes place, I hope 
 the proposal, of which I have been the un- 
 successful bearer, will meet with less oppo- 
 sition — Farewell." 
 
 They parted without more words ; and Ar- 
 dourly mounted his horse with a palpitation 
 he had never felt before ; and a conscious- 
 ness that his stay had been much longer than 
 it ought to have been. 
 
 The way passed unheeded, for his thoughts 
 were employed on too interesting a theme to 
 attend to the beauties his eyes occasionally 
 glanced on ; and the necessity he had been 
 under of belabouring the quadruped he had 
 -brought from Edinburgh, had made that ex-
 
 THE PRIVATEER. 115 
 
 ercise so habitual to him, that his high-met- 
 tled steed brought him, much within the 
 hour, to the gates of Invercraig. 
 
 " My dear Sir," said he, " I am charmed 
 beyond belief, and disappointed beyond ex- 
 pression ! never did I see a creature more 
 lovely or more uncomplying." 
 
 The Laird jocularly admitted that the re- 
 sult of the embassy was no other than he 
 had looked for, considering the prudence of 
 the young lady, and the appearance of the 
 ambassador. Nevertheless, there was no 
 reason to be appalled ; for a woman was 
 surely to be won in a fortnight if a man was 
 to be caught in half an hour ; and his failure 
 was, in reahty, a matter of congratulation, 
 as it would afford an inexhaustible source of 
 amusement for his idle hours, in contrivingf 
 interviews, and eluding the jealous vigilance 
 of Mrs. M'Kay; of which he would have 
 
 1 2
 
 116 THE PRIVATEER. 
 
 been deprived, had his wishes been gratified 
 in Miss Colraith's change of residence. — 
 Henry still thought that the latter arrange- 
 ment would have been preferable, but pro- 
 mised io take advantage of Mr. Ayrton's 
 suggestions without delay.
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Tis now the raven's bleak abode; 
 
 Tis now the apartment of the toad ; 
 
 And there the fox securely feeds. 
 
 And there the poisonous adder breeds, 
 
 Couceal'd in ruins, moss, and weeds ; 
 
 While, ever and anon, there falls 
 
 Huge heaps of hoary monlder'd walls. 
 
 Yet time has seen, that lifts the low. 
 
 And level lays the lofty brow. 
 
 Has seen this broken pile complete. 
 
 Big with the vanity of state : 
 
 But transient is the smile of fate I 
 
 A little rule, a little sway, 
 
 A sunbeam in a winter's day. 
 
 Is all the proud and mighty have 
 
 Between the cradle and the grave. Dykk. 
 
 } 
 
 X HE next morning Ardourly awakened 
 himself by humming a Uttle air, to which 
 Kenneth had written the following scrap : — • 
 
 Oh, thou art very young, and very lone 
 
 And pale, and meek. 
 And ling'ring sorrow sheds a pensive lone 
 
 Upon thy cheek ! 
 Tis like the shadows of the eve, that nieet 
 
 With gentle chill,
 
 118 THE PRIVATEER. 
 
 And make the wilding blossoms, all so sweet, 
 
 Breathe sweeter still. 
 But thou complainest with a softer sigh 
 
 Than infant sleep ; 
 And smilest — oh, so patiently ! that I 
 
 Could gaze and weep. 
 The waves will glide more bright where rocks are bare 
 
 And desolate, 
 And thy young soul becomes more purely fair 
 
 For thy blealc fate. 
 
 It would be a pity, he thought, that so 
 fair a creature should be denied a comforter ; 
 and so deep was his commiseration, that, 
 though he rose with an intention to shoot, 
 he, unwittingly, arrayed himself in boots and 
 spurs. There was too much trouble in recti- 
 fying the mistake, and he determined upon a 
 ride, though, from his silence on the sub- 
 ject, it is likely he was undecided as to the 
 direction of it. The horse, however, chose 
 to take the course he had been the day be- 
 fore ; and the rider, findino;, at last, that he
 
 THE PRIVATEER. 119 
 
 was far advanced upon the road, thought it 
 would be no harm to call at Brachenshaw to 
 express Mr. Ayrton's disappointment at the 
 rejection of his offer. 
 
 Miss Colraith, he was informed, had walked 
 out to the Gleneldie ruins, about h^lf a mile 
 distant, and thither he directed his steps. 
 The path conducted him through a low and 
 gently-ascending coppice of hazel and ground- 
 ling ash, canopied in many places by the 
 loftier and more delicate branches of the 
 weeping birch. Years had elapsed since the 
 tangled grass and intrusive boughs had be6n 
 restrained in their luxuriance, and they now 
 almost obstructed the passage, conveying a 
 melancholy idea of the change from former 
 days, and the cheerless existence of the pre- 
 sent orphan possessor. There was once a 
 road, and a well-trodden one, to the Tower 
 of Gleneldie ; there was alms for the poor,
 
 120 THE PRIVATEER. 
 
 hospitality for the stranger, and protection 
 for the oppressed. The only being who was 
 now heard rusthng through the foliage was 
 the timid maid who sought the hall of her 
 fathers to hear the winds whistle throuffh its 
 ruined walls, and shed the tear of meekness 
 on their mouldering fragments. 
 
 With thoughts like these, Ardourly 
 emerged from the coppice, and found 
 himself within a short distance of Glen- 
 eldie. A bold range of the Grampians 
 reared their giant heads in the clear blue sky 
 behind it ; and the Dee, and its beautiful val- 
 ley, lay extended in the front, fading more 
 and more tenderly in the distance, till the 
 enthusiast might search in vain for the un dis- 
 tinguishable horizon. 
 
 The broken parts which remained were in- 
 dicative of a former magnificence, such as 
 Ardourly had seldom witnessed, in the rude-
 
 THE PRIVATEER. 121 
 
 ness of Scotland's early architecture. A 
 lofty archway which formed the centre of 
 an outward wall^ and a square corner tower^ 
 were the most perfect specimens ; the latter 
 of which was laid open on one side, and 
 shewed an interior black and scathed by fire. 
 Having passed within these, the eye was ap- 
 palled by the sight of the principal building, 
 about half of which was still standing, and 
 presented a most frightful object of violence. 
 The broken sides but too clearly shewed that 
 they had not yielded to the infirmity of 
 their age, but had bowed to the systematic 
 battering of a more ruthless enemy ; and the 
 smoky hue of all within, bore lamentable tes- 
 timony to the means used for its utter deso- 
 lation. It was difficult, from its present 
 state, to form any idea of its former shape, 
 of which the magnitude was alone to be as- 
 certained ; but the variety of antic forms
 
 122 THE PRIVATEER. 
 
 which it assumed — pyramids inchning as if 
 in the very act of falling — huge arches appa- 
 rently supported by nothing, and high and 
 fantastic windows, in which nothing but the 
 heavens were discernible — was more inte- 
 resting from its confusion, and afforded am- 
 ple scope for the imagination to fill up the 
 spaces, and connect the tottering extremities, 
 according to its pleasure. But Ardourly 
 had speculations still more interesting than 
 these. Every echo of his footstep, as he en- 
 tered the ruin, fell heavily upon his heart ; 
 for he trod on the hearth, of whose violation 
 his own father had been the instrument, and 
 how could the dark eye of Jessie behold him 
 in such a place ? He thought several times 
 of going back to Brachenshaw, and awaiting 
 her return; but when he had come to a 
 final resolution of doing so, it was too late. 
 Having proceeded through several scorched
 
 THE PRIVATEER. 123 
 
 apartments, he came to the large arched 
 door-way which admitted him into the great 
 banquetting room, the walls of which, though 
 much broken, were still sufficient to exclude 
 the broad day-light. It was a mournful 
 gloom; but strikingly contrasted by the 
 streams of sunshine which fell obliquely 
 through the long narrow casement niches, 
 like golden rafters which had dropped from 
 their horizontal position. The ground was 
 strewed thickly with the large grey stones of 
 which the building was composed, and which 
 had dropped from their lofty places, even 
 like the years of their exiled lord, unmarked 
 and unlamented — save by one. There were 
 also many rough specimens of disjointed 
 sculpture piled up in various places by the 
 hand of chance, but so overgrown and defiled 
 with the accumulating earth, that they formed 
 only the thrones from whence, unmolested^
 
 124 THE PRIVATEER. 
 
 the rank nettle might wave its dusky domi- 
 nion. It was before one of these that the 
 fair form of Jessie was bending in pensive 
 contemplation. He could not turn back, as 
 he had thought to have done — in no situation 
 could she have bound him more immoveably 
 to her presence — though he felt that in no 
 situation could he have been an object of less 
 pleasure. He had not stood long before he 
 was gratified by another glance of those dark 
 eyes which had never left his thoughts since 
 he first looked upon them. Jessie started at 
 perceiving her unexpected visitor, with a 
 blush not unmingled with pleasure ; and 
 Henry found, to his satisfaction, that there 
 was no immediate call for the excuse of his 
 second appearance : indeed, it is not very 
 improbable that, from a feeling something 
 like agitation, he had forgotten it. 
 
 " Mr. Ardourlv," she said, " has more
 
 THE PRIVATEER. 125 
 
 charity than I could have ventured to give 
 him credit for." There W2ls an effort at 
 gaiety in her manner, but the traces of tears 
 were in her eyes. 
 
 " And why," returned Henry, " should I 
 have been denied the credit of seeing where 
 I could be most happy V 
 
 Jessie smiled, and shaking her head, re- 
 plied, that there could be little happiness 
 with the forlorn damsel of Brachenshaw. 
 " But it is not my intention to make you a 
 sharer in my fooUsh reveries. Such enter- 
 tainment is but ill suited to a visit, from 
 which, in consideration of the distance you 
 have come and the goodness which brought 
 you, you ought to derive nothing but plea- 
 sure. Perhaps you will let me lead you to 
 more lively subjects of meditation. Nay, I 
 am used to walk without assistance, but, 
 lest I should be a sufferer from too much 
 obstinacy, I will not refuse your arm."
 
 126 THE PRIVATEER. 
 
 " Alas, I have too much reason to share 
 in thje thoughts which occupy your soU- 
 tude." 
 
 Jessie turned upon him with a look of 
 reproachful kindness, and delicately avoided 
 a reply, by hastily quitting a scene which 
 caused such painful reflections. It was long 
 before either of them thought their ramble 
 had been sufficiently protracted, and, when 
 they arrived at Brachenshaw, they perceived 
 that their acquaintance had imperceptibly 
 advanced far beyond the usual growth of two 
 days. Jessie's spirits had gradually resumed 
 their usual standard, and even attained to 
 something beyond it ; and, as they entered 
 the house, she bade Henry congratulate 
 himself that his next visit would, per- 
 haps, be more amusing, as it would pro- 
 bably be received by Mrs. M^Kay. " How; 
 could I," she said, " have kept you in sus- 
 pense so long, when I ought to have known
 
 THE PRIVATEER. 127 
 
 your anxiety to hear of her ! If I were not 
 aware of the long ride before you, I would 
 ask you to stay and see her, for I expect 
 the party this evening." 
 
 " Then the best advice I can give, is to 
 let me conduct you to Invercraig before they 
 can arrive/' 
 
 " You remind me of another piece of for- 
 getfulness. I have said not a word on the 
 subject of our kind friend's proposal, though 
 I am conscious I did not say half enough 
 yesterday. But I have written him a note, 
 of which I know you will obligingly be the 
 bearer." 
 
 " Undoubtedly; though I would much 
 rather be the bearer of yourself Particu- 
 larly as the looks of such a companion would 
 ensure me a safe journey home." 
 
 " I hope your safety has no need of such 
 a feeble assistant."
 
 128 THE PRIVATEER. 
 
 *' I do not know. I am strangely me- 
 naced ; but I know of no enemy I can have 
 made." 
 
 " If I thought you had one in Scotland, I 
 should be very much alarmed." She turned 
 to him with the note, for which she had been 
 some time searching a drawer, and the stoop- 
 ing attitude had brought a colour to her 
 cheeks which made her look more bewitch- 
 ingly than ever, while she added — " I think 
 I could answer for it that you have no ill- 
 wisher in Scotland, and are not likely to 
 have any. But you must take care of your- 
 self amongst our disturbed hills, for the sake 
 of your friends and — and acquaintance, for I 
 fear I must not yet hope to rank amongst 
 the former." 
 
 Henry ventured to press her hand at part- 
 ing, and was gradually raising it to his lips, 
 when it was hastily withdrawn to present
 
 THE PRIVATEER. 129 
 
 him with the note which still lay upon the 
 table. " How can we be so forgetful," she 
 said, " here is my commission." 
 
 " Let it remain ; it will be an excuse for 
 me to call to-morrow." 
 
 " If you want an excuse, you will have a 
 much better one in a civil inquiry after your 
 friend, the bride." 
 
 " Most true ; I shall be all anxiety till I 
 am assured of her well-being." He was 
 more cautious this day in his progress out 
 of the room, and, to Jessie's admiration, 
 mounted his horse without causing any dila- 
 pidation whatever. 
 
 He had staid so long, that it was again 
 necessary for the Laird's trusty steed to put 
 his best leg foremost; and hill and vale 
 vanished quickly by him. His spirits were 
 high as the mettle of the animal beneath 
 him, for he was flushed with admiration and 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 130 THE PRIVATEER. 
 
 hope, and a thousand visions of future hap- 
 piness flitted about his breast. In this mood 
 he continued for half his ride, when he 
 slackened pace to breathe his horse, and 
 took the opportunity of looking at his watch 
 to ascertain if it were possible to reach Inver- 
 craig by the dinner-hour. As he returned it 
 to its place, his eye caught the corner of Miss 
 Colraith's letter sticking out of his waistcoat 
 pocket ; and, as every thing from such a hand 
 was interesting, curiosity prompted him to 
 examine the address. He gazed on it long 
 and intently, with a mixture of doubt and 
 surprise, and replaced it in his pocket, biting 
 his lips with sudden inquietude. In a mo- 
 ment, it was re-produced, and again replaced, 
 and the horse was permitted to saunter along 
 at his own pleasure, while his rider was in- 
 volved in a deep fit of abstraction. The 
 first glance at the writing had shown him the
 
 THE PRIVATEER. 131 
 
 strong resemblance it bore to the billets of 
 his mysterious adviser, and was followed by 
 a train of circumstances which he was asto- 
 nished he had not noticed before — namely, 
 the dark and, seemingly, involuntary ex- 
 pressions of Miss Colraith's guardian, in 
 whose hidden reasons for them she might 
 fairly be supposed to participate ; the sub- 
 sequent discovery of her knowledge of the 
 old woman, Kitty Rankie, whose son deli- 
 vered the last note ; and her great confusion 
 at it. He rode a considerable distance con- 
 ning over these corroborative facts, and the 
 more he pondered the less he doubted that 
 he had fixed the letters upon the right au- 
 thor; which point being estabhshed, the 
 question was what must be the connexions 
 of a young lady by which she could come at 
 such information, and what must be her ob- 
 ligations to them which made such conceal- 
 
 K 2
 
 132 THE PRIVATEER. 
 
 ment necessary in the communication of it. It 
 surrounded her with a perilous mystery ; and 
 he turned, with impatience, to the fairer side 
 of the question. Had he seen any thing in her 
 manner which would authorize such a belief 
 as he entertained, or heard any thing but 
 what tended to raise his admiration in the 
 highest degree ? Must not the cause of the 
 advice he had received three days before, 
 still exist ? and, if so, was it likely that she 
 would be less anxious for his safety, now 
 that she knew him, than she was before she 
 had ever seen him ? He hoped not — yet she 
 had not only omitted to give him any further 
 cautions, seeing how httle he regarded the 
 former ones, but had told him she did not 
 beheve there was a person in Scotland of 
 whom he need be apprehensive. This rea- 
 soning Ardourly thought as conclusive as 
 the former, and, when assisted by his ardent
 
 THE PRIVATEER. 133 
 
 endeavours to acquiesce in its justice, finally 
 dispelled the disagreeable sensations which 
 had so long retarded his journey. He again 
 breathed freely, , (though he still thought 
 the coincidences which favoured his first be- 
 lief very remarkable,) and his gallop was 
 resumed to save his distance at the dinner 
 table. 
 
 He had not gone far, however, before he 
 was accosted by a cavalier, meeting him ; 
 and he instantly recognised the good-hu- 
 moured officer who had assisted him in the 
 discussion of the game-cock at Glenshee. 
 The young men were happy to meet, and 
 entered into a friendly conversation, in which 
 the soldier did not deny that his short 
 experience of a Highland life had materially 
 altered his opinion of it. " Though I should 
 have liked it better," he said, " had I come
 
 134 THE PRIVATEEll. 
 
 on more honourable duty, or could have 
 quartered myself on old M'Kay yonder. 
 Report speaks of his hundred and fiftieth 
 cousin as a being who rivals the planets, as 
 bright and as near to Heaven. 1 have 
 peeped about the ancient fabric every day, 
 but to no purpose. There is no getting a 
 glimpse at her.'' 
 
 Ardourly felt an inward satisfaction at his 
 own superior fortune. " And how," he'asked, 
 " did you come at this information ?" 
 
 " Oh, every Goody-two-shoes in the coun- 
 try is full of her ! — I Taith, I think the best 
 plan for an introduction is, to apply to her 
 as a reduced gentleman. We had the deviFs 
 own fortune to miss her at the Spital the 
 other day, for she had been there all the 
 morning to see a sick old woman." 
 
 Henry turned his eye quickly on the
 
 THE PRIVATEER. 135 
 
 speaker, the lines on the window immedi- 
 ately recurring to his mind, while the latter 
 continued : 
 
 " By-the-by, you have not forgotten the 
 man who found his way into our company 
 that night ? I verily believe he was the iden- 
 tical person who landed from the privateer, 
 and that I frightened him with his own de- 
 scription ; for, the next day, he was again 
 seen at Kinkairn, from whence he took a 
 horse which he left at a small fishing village, 
 north of Aberdeen, and beyond this he 
 cannot be traced." 
 
 " How, may I ask, did you learn all 
 this V 
 
 " Why, when I got to Castleton, I found, 
 accidentally, that he had been seen about 
 there for some days; nobody knew him, 
 and the accounts I had heard, added to what 
 [ had seen, induced me to follow him. I
 
 136 THE PRIVATEER. 
 
 lost him, however, at the place I mention, 
 and have little doubt he went on board the 
 Frenchman, which is still on that part of the 
 coast." 
 
 Henry contracted his brows for an instant, 
 and observed it was very strange; adding, 
 " I wish you had been more successful. If 
 chance or duty calls you towards Invercraig, 
 let me see you. I ride against time." 
 
 They turned their horses in different direc- 
 tions ; and Henry had heard enough to fur- 
 nish an ample store of unpleasant thoughts 
 for the rest of his ride. " She knew no one 
 in Scotland disposed against me — why no — 
 she said true enough — the person was gone — 
 the person I suspected. He has been living 
 near her too — close by her — and she alone !" 
 Thus was all his reasoning in favour of Miss 
 Colraith, overturned in a moment. He con- 
 sidered her proved to be the writer of the let-
 
 THE PRIVATEER. 137 
 
 ters beyond all controversion, and again 
 asked himself what must be her connexion 
 with that man, that, being in possession of 
 such information, she should screen him from 
 detection. Could he be any thing less than her 
 lover? and could her conduct be occasioned 
 by any thing but a dread of his attempts upon 
 his ( Ardourly's) life, to ensure to her and him- 
 self the inheritance of the Invercraig demes- 
 nes? In this happy mood he arrived at home. 
 The bell for dinner had not yet rung, and 
 he retired to his room, well pleased to steal 
 there unobserved by the Laird, for he knew 
 himself to be too much perturbed, at the time, 
 to appear otherwise, and was desirous that 
 what had transpired should be confined to 
 his own knowledge; so jealous was he that 
 any one else should think ill of the fair 
 Jessie, though he was compelled to do so 
 himself.
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Believe not what the landmen say, 
 
 Who tempt with doubts thy constant mind ; 
 They '11 tell thee. Sailors, when away. 
 In every port a mistress find. 
 Yes, yes, believe them when they tell thee so. 
 For thou art present wheresoe'er I go. Gay. 
 
 As Henry descended, the heavy duett of a 
 brace of bells announced the dinner, and the 
 coming of Captain Raleigh, whom he has- 
 tened to meet with as unclouded a brow as 
 circumstances would permit. 
 
 " Your friend is in season,'' said the Laird 
 as Ardourly passed him — ." Heaven send he 
 may bring you good news from Brachenshaw, 
 for, as I think, you have not been there to- 
 day.'' A speech which was uttered with a
 
 THE PRIVATEER- 139 
 
 lurking expression of humour, which inferred 
 not exactly the same meaning. 
 
 Raleigh had every reason to be satisfied 
 with his reception at Invercraig, and soon 
 found himself quite at home with its worthy 
 owner, who, as soon as the wine and whiskey 
 were introduced, desired to know how his 
 journey had speeded from Edinburgh. It 
 had, indeed, caused him much amusement ; 
 the Laird laughed and rubbed his hands, and 
 even Ardourly, absent as he was, could not 
 help enjoying the whimsical history ; which, 
 however, we are sorry we cannot give in the 
 humorous words of the narrator. 
 
 From the Scots capital they were to pro- 
 ceed homeward the day after they landed, 
 but the old family vehicle, which was to con^ 
 vey them not coming in time, and when it 
 did arrive, exhibiting the dolorous effects of 
 an upset, they were under the necessity o§
 
 140 THE PRIVATEER. 
 
 submitting to the decrees of fate, and the ex- 
 tortion of waiters, till the damage could be 
 repaired. During this delay, the old gentle- 
 man did not forget to make good use of 
 Raleigh as a crutch to assist him to pawn- 
 brokers and picture-dealers, and a judge to 
 direct his purchases ; and the veneration his 
 abilities were held in, from the numerous 
 rarities he discovered, made his opinion ab- 
 solute in all things whatsoever. 
 
 But not thus did he rise in favour 
 with the Lady of Brachenshaw. She ne- 
 ver could see two young persons together 
 without feeling an extraordinary curiosity 
 to observe what* they would be doing, and 
 since in the present instance, her conjectures 
 of a commencing attachment were not far 
 from the truth, she was, of course, not less 
 upon the qui vive than usual. The vigilance 
 of the sailor was quite as active, and never
 
 THE PRIVATEER. 141 
 
 did fondest lovers or veriest foes inspect 
 the movements of each other with more 
 minuteness. But, in defiance of her be- 
 haviour, which was not always the po- 
 htest, there was quite sufficient in Miss 
 Grey to reconcile him to trifles, and more 
 particularly so when he reflected that a pa- 
 tient endurance of such ills was the best re- 
 venge for them. 
 
 " How happy I shall be to see our 
 charming young friend Mr. Ardourly," 
 said the good lady, " he really has not 
 his equal. Some people are so vulgar and 
 boisterous !" 
 
 " My dear Madam, I beg pardon for 
 doing such violence to your delicate nerves. 
 I will make love to your niece in a whis- 
 per." — He kept his word, while the over- 
 obliging aunt was tortured perfectly to his 
 satisfaction.
 
 142 THE PRIVATEER. 
 
 At length the lumbering famiFy machine, 
 with .four stout posters, drove up to the 
 door of the hotel. The first concern was 
 to see the safe package of Mr. M'Kay's trea- 
 sures, which Raleigh took care should only 
 leave room for the new-married folks, having 
 for himself and Miss Grey planned a ride upon 
 the box. But, as soon as this arrangement 
 was made known to Mrs. M^Kay, she 
 launched her thunders against it' most de- 
 terminately, vowing that if Mr. M^Kay did 
 not leave his pictures and rubbish to go by 
 a cart, she would seek another conveyance. 
 The naturalist grinned, and begged she 
 would please herself; she was welcome to 
 stay behind ; but, as for his papilionesy which 
 had cost him so much more trouble to 
 obtain, he could, by no means, suffer them 
 to travel under any auspices but his own. 
 The lady did not easily yield up the point,
 
 THE PRIVATEER. 143 
 
 but, when she found the case was hopeless, 
 she declared that, rather than the fine skin 
 of her niece should suffer from too great an 
 exposure to the air, she would herself accom- 
 pany Captain Raleigh on the dickey. Such 
 a manoeuvre was totally unexpected, and the 
 brave Captain was in utter despair. Fortune, 
 however, had no such misery in store for 
 him, for, as soon as his persecutrix had 
 climbed to her ricketty station, it was found 
 that she occupied considerably too much of 
 it to admit a companion. She was accord- 
 ingly assisted down again, expostulating with 
 her spouse upon the necessity of his taking 
 the box himself, or desiring Captain Ra- 
 leigh to find his way as he could. The 
 old gentleman replied, that the advice 
 might be very good, though he could not 
 follow it. In the first place, riding on the 
 box did not agree with him ; and, in the
 
 144 THE PRIVATEER. 
 
 next, the Captain had joined their party by 
 her own invitation, and she must abide by 
 the consequences. For his own part, he 
 thought him a good lad; and if he was a 
 little daft, he certainly had a decent knack 
 at caricature, and, moreover, an excellent 
 taste in painting and whiskey. In fine, 
 Raleigh gained his end, and as soon as 
 Emily, who had stood a silent and blushing 
 spectator of her aunt's discomfiture, was 
 handed aloft, the ancient rumble-tumble 
 dashed down the Union-street with a rattle 
 that attracted universal notice, displaying 
 the flaming family arms, emblazoned in about 
 the same compass as those of an achieve- 
 ment. A specimen of the fine arts, supposed 
 to be touched off by the owner himself, from 
 the peculiar satisfaction with which he con- 
 templated the lookers-on. 
 
 As soon as the equ'page had cleared the
 
 THE PRIVATEER. 145 
 
 town, the drivers were desired to proceed 
 at a more moderate pace, for the thumps and 
 bumps, with which they had bounded over 
 the stones, agreed so ill with the arts and 
 sciences, that they began to tumble about 
 the ears of the inside passengers without 
 mercy. Whether this ill stowage was a 
 plan of Captain Raleigh's is unknown, but 
 he certainly derived much satisfaction from 
 it, since it would make the day's journey two 
 or three hours longer in the accomplishment, 
 and, consequently, give him as much more 
 time in his siege upon the heart of Miss 
 Grey. Mrs. M'Kay, at first, caused some 
 little interruption by obligingly poking her 
 head out of the window to see if they were 
 comfortable, and to tell her niece she might 
 give Captain Raleigh more room ; but having 
 two or three times, by such movements,^ 
 committed sore dilapidations on the can~ 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 146 THE PRIVATEER. 
 
 vass and glass cases, she was recommended 
 to desist from her kind solicitude, with an 
 assurance that the lad and the child Aimlie 
 would make themselves quite comfortable 
 enough without her assistance. Thus was a 
 fair field presented to the address of the 
 valorous Captain, who, sailor-like, forgetting 
 all base considerations of money, and all 
 cold calculations of the produce of nothing 
 put to nothing, manfully pushed the war up 
 to the very gates of a proposal, and boldly 
 ventured therein. The timid girl became 
 pale and agitated, and entreated he would 
 not press the subject. 
 
 " I cannot, indeed I cannot, let you talk in 
 this manner without my aunt's knowledge ! '' 
 
 " Shall I ask her permission ? I will jump 
 down and do it in a moment.'' 
 
 Emily laughed in the midst of her distress — 
 " And much good would you gain by such
 
 THE PRIVATEER. 147 
 
 an application! Besides, I am not aware 
 that my behaviour towards you would war- 
 rant such a one." 
 
 " Well, never mind ; we are in the country 
 where these things are settled very cleverly, 
 and it is my intention to marry ^ou against 
 your inclinatioi], (which, of course, will dis- 
 arm your aunt of all wrath towards you,) and 
 then I will make my own peace with her 
 when I have nothing else to do." 
 
 His gaiety set her terrors at rest, for it 
 spared her the confusion of a more precise 
 confession, from which she had feared there 
 was no escape — 
 
 " And forth they pass, a well consorted payre." 
 
 marking each mile they travelled by some 
 fresh advancement in the sentiments they 
 dared not discuss. 
 
 At every stoppage Mrs. M'Kay did not 
 
 L 2
 
 148 THE PRIVATEER. 
 
 fail to read her niece a lecture upon some 
 new impropriety in her conduct towards Ra- 
 leigh ; begging, at the same time, to know 
 the whole history of their conversation, from 
 beginning to end. Such an examination, 
 from such a quarter, might be expected to 
 produce equivocation; but Miss Grey, though 
 mild in the extreme, possessed a spirit which 
 would not brook the everlasting inquiries of 
 injurious suspicion, and merely answered 
 that when Captain Raleigh used conversation 
 which she conceived it improper to listen to, 
 she would take care to inform her. The 
 temper of Mrs. M^Kay, with all its pestering 
 qualities, was, luckily for those about her, 
 not easily ruffled, and, besides this, she was 
 so proud of her protegee's beauty, that she 
 had made it a rule never to be angry with 
 her, or allow her to experience a moment's 
 uneasiness, lest that prime qualification should
 
 THE PRIVATEER. l49 
 
 be injured. From Miss Grey, therefore, who 
 really loved and despised her at the same 
 time, she did not scruple to apply to Raleigh 
 himself ; and here, indeed, she was much 
 more successful, for our sailor chose to 
 amuse himself by avowing much more than 
 had really happened. 
 
 " Can you think, my dear madam, that, 
 seated so long by so much perfection, I 
 could help feeling and expressing the effect 
 it had upon me ? or can you fancy that the 
 numberless comparisons you have been po- 
 lite enough to draw between my friend Ar_ 
 dourly and myself (always giving me the 
 advantage) should not have weighed with the 
 sensitive heart of a young lady who sets so 
 much value upon your judgment ? I should 
 have called myself the veriest blockhead if 
 we had not plighted our faith long ago. 
 Upon my word, I do not know but we are
 
 150 THE PRIVATEER. 
 
 married already — a man never knows when 
 he is married in Scotland — a wink or a 
 whisper, they say, is quite sufficient. But if 
 you will allow me, I will ask Miss Grey what 
 she thinks of it, and either expedite the cere- 
 mony, or, if it is past, kneel down and im- 
 plore your blessing." 
 
 Mrs. M'Kay had just wit enough to per- 
 ceive that he was laughing at her, though 
 she doubted not that he had gone great 
 lengths. She represented that her niece was 
 very young, and expressed a piteous hope 
 that he would maintain a proper regard for 
 her inexperience ; adding a long-winded 
 compliment to his discretion, and finishing 
 with a desire to know how her beautiful 
 Emily was thought of by Mr. Ardourly. 
 
 '^ Thought of, madam? why he thinks she 
 is just made for the wife of a sailor." And 
 thus did their conversations generally end ;
 
 THE PRIVATEER. 151 
 
 with amusement on one side and vexation 
 on the other. 
 
 Having brought them safe to Brachen- 
 shaw, (where he saw a young lady, whom 
 he allowed to be almost as beautiful as Miss 
 Grey herself), Raleigh was obliged to wait 
 till Mrs. M^Kay had penned an invitation 
 for his friend's company to dinner on the 
 earliest convenience ; which same compli- 
 ment would not, perhaps, have been ex- 
 tended to himself, had not the old man in- 
 terposed his commands to that eifect; in 
 consequence of an affirmation on the part 
 of the sailor, that, with a very few touches 
 of the pencil, he could convert a full length 
 likeness of that respected gentleman, mount- 
 ed on a gallant grey, into an admirable re- 
 presentation of Death on the Pale Horse. 
 
 Henry bungled through his scarcely le- 
 gible epistle with the most bitter complaints ; 
 for the kind lady had crammed in so many
 
 152 THE PRIVATEER. 
 
 inquiries after his health, so many praises of 
 her niece, and so many et c^eteras, that he 
 despaired of giving her an answer under 
 three sides at least. 
 
 " And now, my good sir," said he, ad- 
 dressing Mr. Ayrton, " since I am going to 
 make my escape, to arrange with Kenneth 
 for our shooting to-morrow, I hope you will 
 enjoy your laugh at me before I return ; for 
 I must needs confess, that I left Brachen- 
 shaw to-day, just before Raleigh, and the 
 rest arrived there. Perhaps, I should not 
 be so candid, if I had not, like him, brought 
 a letter from thence." 
 
 " A letter ! and from Jessie Colraith ! no 
 wonder you kept it so long in your pocket — 
 Come, Captain Raleigh, let us drink to his 
 amendment — You bear your misfortunes like 
 a man, but my young chieftain there is 
 crazed already !" 
 
 Ardourly vanished, leaving the two to their
 
 THE PRIVATEER. 153 
 
 laudable toast, while he dimbed the spiral 
 staircase to Kenneth's abode, which was 
 situated, as poets' should be, at the top of the 
 tower, with only the inconvenience of being 
 just under the clock. In the midst of his 
 small apartment, and surrounded by the he- 
 terogeneous implements of both his avoca- 
 tions, sat the uncompanioned inmate, " fram- 
 ing loose numbers," and polishing the lock of 
 his gun. Henry desired he would not disturb 
 himself, and taking a seat opposite to him, 
 said he had come to see how geniuses em- 
 ployed themselves. 
 
 " I am afraid, Master Henry, you will see 
 little worth the trouble of climbing that 
 cork-screw staircase. You find me nursing 
 my only hope — that some of my fancies may 
 be breathed in my living ear by lips that I 
 love, and some survive for the harmony of the 
 mountain side when the bard is forgotten.*'*
 
 154 THE PRIVATEER. 
 
 " Alas, Kenneth, why is the sombre mood 
 so peculiar to the sons of song? Is it really, 
 as your own words express it, that 
 
 They soar so far above their fate, 
 
 The joys which all the world is wooing, 
 
 Are seen in such diminished state, 
 
 They do not think them worth pursuing?" 
 
 Kenneth felt pleased, and proud that Ar- 
 dourly should think his lines worth repeat- 
 ing. " The sentiment," he said, " was only a 
 poetical fiction, for, as far as regarded him- 
 self, he had every thing to make him happy. 
 Those of his fanciful callins; must not be 
 judged from appearances, for they were 
 buoyed up with ideal delight, while their 
 real situation might be poverty and misery, 
 and they were sunk in despondency in the 
 midst of comfort. They were the persons 
 whose fortunes they recorded — the favoured
 
 THE PRIVATEER. 155 
 
 lover, the triumphant chief, or their oppo- 
 sites." 
 
 Kenneth and his poetry being sufficiently 
 discussed, Ardourly came to the point which 
 had really brought him ; and begged, in an off- 
 hand manner (that he might not attach to the 
 request an importance which would excite 
 curiosity), that he would go, the next morn- 
 ing, to Loch-na-Gar, and use his best discre- 
 tion to obtain more satisfactory communi 
 cations from the old dame. There was, 
 however, no need of the trouble, for he had 
 met her, that day, trudging northward, with 
 her whole household goods upon a donkey. 
 Knowing Henry's anxiety, though not the 
 cause, he had again examined her relative to 
 her son, but to no purpose ; nor could he 
 find whither she was moving, though he sup- 
 posed it was on an expedition to some 
 neighbourhood where there was more to
 
 156 THE PRIVATEER. 
 
 purloin. Thus was Ardouiiy obliged to re- 
 turn to his friends, with the conviction that 
 the circumstance foremost in his mind 
 must, probably, remain a mystery, unless 
 Jessie Colraith herself should choose to ex- 
 plain it. 
 
 The post was just come in, (a matter of 
 some moment where it came but seldom and 
 irregularly,) and all three became busily en^ 
 gaged with their letters. 
 
 " What says my friend, Sandy Anderson, 
 merchant of Aberdeen?" said the Laird, as 
 he broke the last seal. Having glanced it 
 over, he handed it to Raleigh, saying it was 
 more in his way, as it related chiefly to his 
 own element. It was, indeed, a disastrous 
 catalogue of losses by privateers, which fre- 
 quented that coast in greater abundance than 
 ever ; but the damage occasioned by all the 
 rest was, comparatively, trifling to the dar-
 
 THE PRIVATEER. 157 
 
 ing and dexterous mischief perpetrated daily 
 by one individual. This was a corvette of 
 the largest size, which, from the promptness 
 it displayed in intercepting almost every 
 vessel of consequence from that place, was 
 supposed to have agents on shore, from 
 whom it received information as to their 
 course. It was the same which, some little 
 while since, was seen to land one of its 
 crew, and had long been an occasional visi- 
 tant in the North Sea, having, three years 
 before, fought a smart action with Captain 
 Raleigh. 
 
 " From which," said Raleigh, " we sepa- 
 rated by mutual consent, to bind up our 
 splinters, and lost sight of each other in a 
 gale of wind, before we could re-commence. 
 Provoking, to be aground when there is so 
 much prize-money afloat !" 
 
 But just as he was lamenting his hard for-
 
 158 THE PRIVATEER. 
 
 tune, Ardourly, who, in a reverie about his 
 friends in England, or his friends at Bra- 
 chenshaw, or on board the privateer, was 
 swinging the post-bag to and fro, unex- 
 pectedly tossed out another letter, which 
 Raleigh caught up, and found addressed to 
 himself. " Egad," said he, " it looks as if 
 it came from the Admiralty — Suppose it 
 should be an appointment to a ship !" To 
 his surprise and dehght, he had supposed 
 rightly; and, by his own merit, and the 
 exertion of friends, was once more 
 
 *' To move the monarch of the peopled deck," 
 
 whither he was to repair in the course of the 
 ensuing week. 
 
 Considering his weighty reasons for re- 
 maining a little longer in Scotland, this or- 
 der for his return, which was so neck 
 and neck with his coming, was, indeed,
 
 THE PRIVATEER. 159 
 
 rather unopportune. But Raleigh was of a 
 very comfortable disposition, and never dis- 
 dained the happiness in his power, was it 
 ever so brief. The whole joy of a hfe, he 
 said, was mostly collected by snatches, and 
 none could pretend the blossoms were less 
 sweet because they were gathered singly. 
 With this maxim he arranged with himself, 
 since he could command but one visit to 
 Brachenshaw, to make it as pleasant and 
 convenient as possible. He would go there, 
 as invited, and sleep there, as uninvited; 
 make merry with its old master, and love to 
 his new niece ; and then, being ten miles on 
 his road, pursue his journey to the south, 
 with love behind and glory before him.
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 If with the breathing of the gentle winde, 
 
 A.n aspen ieafe but shaked on the tree, 
 If bird or beast stir'd in the bushes blinde, 
 
 Thither he spurr'd, thilher he rode to see. 
 
 Fairefax's Tasso. 
 
 No longer seek him east or west, 
 And search no more the forest thorongh ; 
 
 For wandering in the night so dark. 
 He ***•••*•* Logan. 
 
 On the appointed day the young men ap- 
 peared at Brachenshaw, and were received 
 with pleasure by Mr. M^Kay and the young 
 ladies : the civiUties of Mrs. M^Kay being, 
 as before, confined to Ardourly, on whom 
 she lavished her welcomes so plentifully that 
 it was clear she was ignorant the thicker 
 such daubs are laid on, the more easily they
 
 THE PRIVATEER. 161 
 
 are seen through. It ks but just, however, 
 to observe, that if her understanding was not 
 more bright than usual, the want of amend- 
 ment was not wholly without excuse, as the 
 treatment her husband had adopted to effect 
 a favourable revolution had, without im- 
 pugning its possibility of ultimate success, 
 reduced her to a very deplorable state of 
 mental as well as bodily exhaustion. 
 
 Her first entrt upon her new premises had 
 been marked by as many fractured victims 
 as the march of a conquering leader. The 
 long dark passages which had been so dex- 
 terously threaded by Ardourly, were not 
 always to be travelled with impunity ; for, as 
 Mrs. M'Kay very properly observed, statues 
 are the most awkward people in the world, 
 and never make way for any body. Alex- 
 ander the Great was the first to impede her 
 progress, for which Alexander the Great got 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 162 THE PRIVATEER. 
 
 his neck broke, and the full force of her 
 charms was received in the arms of Julius 
 Caesar, who, staggering with his insupport- 
 able happiness, bore down the stately figures 
 of Brutus, Cassius, and Mark Antony. As 
 soon as this merciless massacre was made 
 known to Mr. M'Kay, the only culprit upon 
 whom he could inflict punishment was found 
 guilty of being too heavy and too clumsy and 
 too dull of perception, and sentenced to a 
 regular course of medicine. 
 
 Now it must be remembered that Mr. 
 M'Kay's taste for natural philosophy had 
 superseded his occupation of chemist and 
 druggist for at least two years ; and that the 
 large stock of pills and mixtures which were 
 then manufactured, had, from the want of pa- 
 tients, remained upon the shelf of his labora- 
 tory ever since. The intended reduction, 
 therefore, of Mrs. M'Kay's ponderosity pre-
 
 THE PRIVATEER. 163 
 
 sented a most delectable opportunity of 
 clearing off these existing insinuations against 
 the skill of their composer ; and though the 
 draughts might happen to be a little fer 
 mented, and the pills something allied to the 
 substance of marble, the constitution to which 
 they were to be applied rendered the consi- 
 deration of such trifles wholly unnecessary. 
 Mrs. M^Kay submitted patiently to the de- 
 cipline of calomel and black doses, expecting 
 to walk forth from her room with the grace 
 and agility of her niece ; but the remedies 
 had not long been conveyed to their desti- 
 nation before their effects cried out for the 
 assistance of others to counteract them. The 
 whole of Mr. McKay's knowledge, and the 
 half of his physic, were brought into action ; 
 the patient, in her own mind, growing worse 
 and worse, and, in his, better and better, till, 
 being scarcely able to leave her room, their 
 
 M I
 
 164 THE PRIVATEER. 
 
 opposite opinions pronounced her, at once, 
 in a dying state and refined feminine health. 
 In this woeful situation Ardourly beheld 
 the Lady of Brachenshaw, who, seating him 
 by her side, entered fully into the detail of 
 her unprecedented sufferings, which were, 
 without doubt, to put an end to her valuable 
 life, unless he would exert his interest with 
 her husband to obtain for her the care of her 
 own recovery. This was a very arduous 
 point, for, though Mr. McKay's medical abi- 
 lities had slumbered for the space of two 
 years, certain standing regulations had ex- 
 isted in his family ever since, and were, in no 
 wise, to be resisted. The first of these was, 
 that all persons of full habits and florid com- 
 plexions should abstain from all diet but ve- 
 getables, porridge, and rain-water, which, in 
 spite of stench and tadpoles, was collected in 
 a little lake on the house-top, and defended
 
 THE PRIVATEER. 165 
 
 on the unassailable authority of Celsus him- 
 self; so that Mrs. McKay's petition for roast 
 beef and port wine promised to share the fate 
 of petitions in general, which are thought 
 very unreasonable till the objects of them are 
 past profiting by their success. 
 
 Mr. M^Kay listened to her complaints with 
 his usual grin of satisfaction, and vowed that, 
 so far from adding the beef and port to her 
 bill of fare, he had been hesitating whether, 
 in her particular case, it would not be better 
 to strike out the porridge. As for the ob- 
 jectiohs to the medical treatment, they were 
 totally unfounded, seeing that he had fol- 
 lowed, to a grain, the prescription of a very 
 wise physician, who expressly says " Initio 
 sumat 3eger pilulam unani pro dosi, mane ac 
 nocte ; postea sumat binaSy dein tres et de- 
 nique augeatur dosis quantum Jieri potest.*^ 
 To be sure, the doses, like the Battel gun-
 
 166 THE PlllVATEER. 
 
 powder, had been made triple strong, but 
 they had only been proportionable to her 
 size and constitution, and, therefore, he did 
 not conceive she had any right whatever to 
 be discontented. 
 
 There is no knowing how long the alterca- 
 tion might have lasted, had not the spectacles 
 of Mr. M'Kay been directed towards the 
 garden, where they observed the sportive 
 evolutions of a fine crimson moth, flapping 
 his wings from rose to tulip as leisurely as if 
 he had never heard of a naturalist in his life. 
 The old gentleman immediately sounded to 
 arms, and, seizing his butterfly net, rushed 
 out to the chase, followed, before Mrs. 
 M'Kay could pronounce her veto, bv Ra- 
 leigh and Miss Grey. 
 
 The Lady of Brachenshaw desired Ar- 
 dourly would fly to take care of her niece ; 
 but, as Miss Colraith was not of the party,
 
 THE PRIVATEER. 167 
 
 he excused himself on the ground of her 
 being sufficiently protected already ; afford- 
 ing the good aunt, by the manner in which he 
 gazed on the fair Jessie, another excuse for 
 the envy, hatred and malice, she had enter- 
 tained from the first moment she had beheld 
 her. 
 
 Jessie was indeed a most enviable being, 
 for she was the only one at Brachenshaw 
 who was considered fit to be trusted to her 
 own management. Nor was this all the fa- 
 vour she experienced, for the whole of Mr. 
 McKay's treasures were committed to her 
 charge, and consequently his whole heart 
 and soul were wrapped up in her. The bride 
 expostulated strongly against the propriety 
 of her exclusion from these nicest cares of 
 her household ; but received no other satis- 
 faction than an assurance that she was quite 
 unfit for them, and had only been made the 
 
 r^
 
 168 THE PRIVATEER. 
 
 mistress of Brachenshaw by an accidental 
 slip in the memory of its master, who had 
 forgotten that it already possessed a much 
 better one. A piece of information which 
 caused an abrupt wheel of the person of the 
 offended party, and the dispersion of a whole 
 festoon of chandelier drops, which had 
 formed the glittering decoration of an old 
 card-ta])le, and now offered an occupation 
 for the innocent cause of dissension. 
 
 Ardourly still dwelt upon her singularly 
 sweet countenance, now kindly intent upon 
 repairing her old guardian's baubles, and 
 now listening and replying, with smiling 
 complacency, to whatever the ill-nature of 
 his wife could suggest for her mortification. 
 Was it possible so gentle a creature could 
 merit the unfavourable opinion of any body ? 
 Was it possible there could be a mind for 
 clandestine intercourse with a look so seem-
 
 THE PRIVATEER. 169 
 
 ingly undisguised and innocent ? His pur- 
 pose was to reveal to her candidly the whole 
 subject of his thoughts ; and, whatever her 
 answer might be, to believe in its truth with 
 unhesitating confidence. But Mrs. M'Kay, 
 unhappily, had eyes to distinguish her 
 beauty, though she wanted the honesty to 
 allow it, and very properly opined that too 
 great an intimacy between them wotJd not 
 tell much in favour of the desired establish- 
 ment for her niece ; so that the time for bring- 
 ing to pass the said explanation was very 
 precarious. 
 
 In the meanwhile the dinner was an- 
 nounced, and Miss Colraith, leaving the 
 room to summon the fly-catchers, favoured 
 the lady of Brachenshaw with a choice op- 
 portunity of ascertaining the precise bent of 
 Ardourly's inclinations. 
 
 *' For my part," said she, ** 1 do not think
 
 170 THE PRIVATEER. 
 
 that Miss Colraith half so pretty as some 
 people have described her ; and, as for ac- 
 compHshments, she is not to be named in 
 the same day with my charming Emily — 
 What think you ?" 
 
 " Why, madam, you have scarcely had 
 time to form a proper judgment. In my mind 
 Miss Colraith is highly accomphshed, and a 
 finished beauty." 
 
 " La, do you think so ! v^^ell, some people 
 have one taste, and some another. — She is 
 much too pale for me ; and her hair is too 
 black — and — and — in short, she is not one of 
 my beauties at all." 
 
 When the cloth was removed the conver- 
 sation turned uponRaleigli's departure. Sa- 
 tisfied with the assurance of Miss Grey's 
 predilection, he was contented to leave the 
 rest to the fortune of war ; convinced, that 
 should he be successful, there would be little
 
 THE PRIVATEER. 171 
 
 difficulty in eftecting a change in the senti- 
 ments of the aunt. At present, however, 
 this latter personage did not express any 
 very great share of regret at his approach- 
 ing loss ; which, indeed, was no small in- 
 gratitude ; for, at the hazard of falling into 
 disgrace with his best friend, the Laird, he 
 had not only supplied her with clandestine 
 bits from his own plate, but had absolutely 
 smuggled down her throat a brimming glass 
 of double-distilled whiskey. Mr. M'Kay 
 was more friendly, and indulged in the pa- 
 triotic consolation of his mountain spirit, 
 till, as on a former occasion, his various 
 sciences were floated from their lurkino 
 
 o 
 
 places, where the greater part of them had 
 lain forgotten, and danced the Highland 
 fling upon his brain, with most outrageous 
 confusion. 
 
 " Come lads," he cried, " fiat mivtura ;
 
 172 THE PRIVATEER. 
 
 there is nothing hke it ; it makes the wit fly 
 edge-ways like the testa ostrearea, or shell of 
 an oyster — it nourishes the buds of know- 
 ledge like showers in spring, and V 11 tell ye 
 a secret — when ye have got your gamut and 
 sol fas, you will mix up your tints of yellow 
 ochre and ultra marine (always remem- 
 bering that the motacilla has a long tail, 
 and makes a sound something like dish- 
 washer), and — and — then you know you 
 will — where was I? Oh, ay, and then, 
 you know, the child, Jessie, will sing us a 
 song." 
 
 Jessie was aware that the better she suno- 
 the worse she would please Mrs. Mackay, 
 and earnestly transferred the task to Miss 
 Grey, who, whispering to the rest, that she 
 meant to have a laugh at her aunt, imme- 
 diately sang the following words with the 
 most touching sweetness :
 
 THE PRIVATEER. 173 
 
 The dark weed hangs over our desolate home, 
 Like a death-pall where honour is closed in the 
 
 tomb; 
 And it seems as it whispered in sighs to the air 
 All the tale of the woes that have planted it there ! 
 
 The chill drop that falls from its cold, clammy 
 
 wreath — 
 How deep it hath worn in the stone underneath 
 So the one ceaseless thought which these ruins 
 
 impart 
 With the chill of despair hath sunk deep in my 
 
 heart ! 
 
 The singer was commended by all; but 
 Mrs. M'Kay was in raptures. " What beau- 
 tiful words, what a delightful air ! was it 
 composed by Handel or Haydn, or Milton 
 or Shakspeare ? I think, Emily, your taste 
 is much improved of late." 
 
 " I am very glad of it — I have gained 
 much instruction from dear Jessie Colraith."
 
 174 THE PRIVATEER. 
 
 " Indeed, Miss Colraith is much more 
 likely to be instructed by you. After all 
 the advantages you have had of the first 
 masters, I am sure she will not think of en- 
 tering into any competition with you." 
 
 " Certainly there is no competition be- 
 tween us, and you will say so yourself when 
 I tell you that the composition in which your 
 excellent judgment has united the names 
 of so many worthies, is wholly the work of 
 my sweet Jessie, in compliance with my 
 vnshes this morning." 
 
 No one delighted more than the Laird of 
 Brachenshaw in the ridicule of his wife ; 
 and, he took every occasion to show off her 
 ignorance and narrow-mindedness to the best 
 advantage, perhaps, with the view of teach- 
 ing her to conceal the former and amend 
 the latter. 
 
 " Well my Lady," said he, " how is it to
 
 THE PRIVATEER. 175 
 
 be ? Is Jessie to be a Handel, or are you to 
 be a goose ?" 
 
 Mrs. M^Kay adjusted herself in her chair, 
 without any decided preference for either of 
 these alternatives. 
 
 " Why, I suppose, Mr. M'Kay, a person 
 may be mistaken without being an absolute 
 goose. I do not profess to be so very good 
 a judge. I said the music might be rather 
 pretty, but I dare say I was wrong. With 
 Emily's voice it might deceive any one." 
 
 Miss Colraith smiled sweetly, and per- 
 fectly agreed with her ; but Mr. M'Kay fol- 
 lowed her up pretty sharply, and it was 
 happy for her that he did not retain the wit 
 of his younger days, or, with such grist for 
 his mill, he had found amusement for the 
 rest of the evening. But he was unable to 
 keep his mind long to one subject; he gene- 
 rally, as he did now, talked himself into a
 
 176 THE PRIVATEER. 
 
 passion, and then forgot where he was ; the 
 person who undertook to remind him being 
 at full liberty, (that is, without danger of 
 discovery,) to put him upon whatever track 
 he pleased. This successful plan was first 
 discovered by Miss Colraith, who delivered 
 it, like the girdle of Venus, to the new- 
 married lady; and, though little gratitude 
 was shewn for the favour, it proved to be a 
 talisman which often helped her out of 
 very awkward dilemmas. The talisman, 
 however, had considerable difficulties to 
 encounter on the present occasion ; for, as 
 often as she attempted to lead her spouse 
 from the point, Raleigh whispered him back 
 to it, and the joke served as a high treat till 
 the entrance of tea put an end to it. 
 
 The hours passed away. Raleigh, as he 
 had determined, had procured a lodging at 
 Brachenshaw for the night, and was to set
 
 THE PRIVATEER. 177 
 
 out on his return to England in the morning ; 
 but Henry was expected to sleep at Inver- 
 craig, and was fearful of causing alarm by 
 remaining. Jessie's distressed countenance 
 pleaded hard for his stay, but he was com- 
 pelled to resist; and, after this, it was not 
 likely that his purpose could be changed 
 by Mrs. M'Kay's vehement invitations to a 
 bed, or her horrific descriptions of the dark^ 
 stormy night. He pressed the hand of his 
 friend cordially ; said he should feel much 
 anxiety to hear from him, and mounted his 
 horse. 
 
 Ardourly had much difficulty in picking 
 his v/ay, for the road was rugged, and the 
 night most dismally dark. The wind howled 
 round him in a hurricane, and the crashes 
 of the old firs, which he passed through to 
 the Dee ford, frequently made his horse start 
 from the bealen track, to the imminent 
 
 VOL. 1. N
 
 178 THE PRIVATEER. 
 
 peril of the rider's neck. The river was so 
 rapid and swollen by the rain which had 
 been pouring for several hours, that both 
 horse and man hesitated as to the safety 
 of crossing. Henry let the animal follow 
 his own inclination, and, after snorting and 
 pawing two or three times at the brink, he 
 brought him over, though his utmost strength 
 was necessary to preserve his footing. He 
 wanted no intimation to use his speed, for 
 t^-jB strong and sudden gusts terrified him, 
 wherever the road could be deciphered, 
 into a hard gallop. At length, Ardourly 
 found himself in a thick coppice, about mid- 
 way between Brachenshaw and Invercraig, 
 and was obliged to slacken his pace, and feel 
 his way cautiously. The night, here, was com- 
 pletely black, and he expected every instant 
 to tumble over the trunk of some ancient 
 pine, prostrated across the road by the vio-
 
 THE PRIVATEER. 179 
 
 lence of the storm. The creaking of the 
 branches not only startled his horse, bat 
 more than once reminded him of the ano- 
 nymous warnings which could not have 
 been verified in a more fitting place. In a 
 sudden pause of the wind, he heard some- 
 thing stirring on the road, but the storm 
 howled again, and he thought it might be 
 nothing but the straggling cattle which had 
 been browsing there in the day-time. Ad- 
 vancing, however, a few paces further, and 
 thinking how ill-advised he had been to set 
 out so late, a voice on either side electrified 
 him with a mandate to " stand !" 
 
 Ardourly would certainly have disobeyed, 
 and done as many a hero had done before 
 him, but the reins of his horse were seized, 
 and he was necessitated to hold a parley. 
 
 " Who, and wliat are you ?" he said. 
 
 The answer made him feel considerably 
 
 N 2 
 
 ^
 
 180 THE PRIVATEER. 
 
 more comfortable than he had done a second 
 before; for he recognised the voice of his 
 military acquaintance at Castle ton. 
 
 " We have met before," said Ardourly, 
 " in this spot ; and, when we meet again, I 
 shall have no objection to its being by day- 
 hght!" 
 
 " Mr. Ardourly !" cried the officer, much 
 surprised, " How, in God's name came you 
 here ? Since I have been on this cursed 
 duty, I have undergone more perils than in 
 a twelvemonth's campaign against a French 
 army. The desperation of these smuggling 
 vagabonds is surprising. They are a com- 
 plete banditti. Here has been robbery and 
 murder in every direction. Last night a 
 cottage was burned because they suspected 
 the owner of giving information against 
 them; and to-night, I have notice, that 
 another in this, wood is to share the same
 
 THE PRIVATEER. 181 
 
 fate, unless we can prevent it. Let me 
 advise you not to be so venturesome again. 
 Upon my soul, you deserved your fright for 
 your temerity. I shall take some of my 
 men, and see you safe home. 
 
 They rode together by several small par- 
 ties of soldiers, vi^hose presence was only 
 intimated by the low, and cautious watch- 
 word, till they cleared the wood ; and, push- 
 ing their horses till they got within a few 
 furlongs of the castle, whose tower was just 
 then displayed by the rising moon, the 
 officer said he mig-ht now wish his friend 
 good night, and return to his post. Ar- 
 dourly thanked him for his escort, and 
 entered the plantation of firs which flanked 
 the road on either side, for the rest of the 
 way. 
 
 It was still dark, except when the driving 
 clouds permitted a moon-beam to dart
 
 182 THE PRIVATEER. 
 
 through the fohage ; and, as one of these 
 momentarily glanced upon his person, a 
 bullet whistled close to his ear. From the 
 report, the piece was discharged at not many 
 paces. He turned, and beheld three or four 
 men behind him, and, spurring his horse 
 homeward, presently found three or four 
 more in front. There was no choice but to 
 take a small path to the left, which descend- 
 ed to the river, and make the best of his 
 way. The wind sat behind him, and he 
 could distinctly hear he was pursued. There 
 was no tarrying ; and his only chance was 
 to cross the water, which, at that place, was 
 not fordable in the driest season, and was 
 now, perhaps, twice the depth of his horse, 
 and as precipitous as a mill-tail. Fortu- 
 nately a boat (for the convenience of the in- 
 habitants of the small village of Crathie, 
 about half a mile distant) happened to be on
 
 THE PRIVATEER. 183 
 
 the right side for him ; and, hastily dis- 
 mounting, and turning the animal loose, in 
 less than a minute he pulled himself across, 
 by means of a rope fastened on either 
 bank. 
 
 He would have run down the water's edge 
 and crossed again, opposite to Invercraig ; 
 but Mr. Ayrton dined that day at the manes 
 of Crathie, and he hastened to prevent his 
 returning without proper protection. 
 
 His first question, on his arrival, was, 
 whether the Laird was gone ; and, to his 
 consternation, he was answered in the af- 
 firmative. He had been gone about a quar- 
 ter of an hour, and had left the manse 
 alone, having, probably, crossed the river 
 but a few moments before Ardourly, and 
 taken the by-path- to Invercraig, by which 
 there was every chance of his meeting with 
 the ruffians.
 
 184 THE PRIVATEER. 
 
 The minister was a staunch friend, and 
 had courage enough for a soldier. — " Sandy 
 — Donald ! my pistols and the old clay- 
 more ! Master Ardourly — the double barrel. 
 We are but four, but there is no time to 
 beat for recruits." 
 
 They were all active young men, and were 
 over the river, and in the fir grove, without 
 giving a thought to the odds they might en- 
 counter; but there was no opposition, and 
 they arrived safe at the castle-gate. 
 
 Mr. Ayrton had not been home, and Ar- 
 dourly's blood curdled with a horrid fore- 
 boding. A strong re-inforcement of domes- 
 tics was speedily collected, armed with fowl- 
 ing-pieces, and whatever they could lay 
 their hands upon; and every path of the 
 plantation was searched, but nothing satis- 
 factory discovered. They tried to listen, 
 but the wind still raged, and drowned every
 
 THE PRIVATEER. 185 
 
 sound but the shrill neighing of Ardourly's 
 terrified horse, which gallopped wildly- 
 through the dubious avenues, and was, at 
 last, taken by its master. He immediately 
 vaulted upon it, and, urging his compa- 
 nions, for the love of God, not to give up 
 the search, set off, at full speed, after the 
 officer, who had, unhappily, left him just 
 where his assistance might have prevented 
 the mischief which followed. 
 
 " For mercy's sake," he cried, " collect 
 your men and return. I have fallen in with 
 the villains you are expecting." The rest 
 was quickly told. 
 
 The night passed in fruitless exertion, and 
 Henry, with his companions, returned in the 
 morning to ascertain the success of the 
 other party, which proved to be no better 
 than his own. Exhausted as he was, both 
 in mind and body, he had a fresh horse
 
 186 THE PRIVATEER. 
 
 saddled, and again sallied forth to make 
 inquiries at the neighbouring villages. Again 
 he returned unsuccessful, and, no longer 
 doubting the dreadful fate of his kind and 
 benevolent friend, flung himself down to 
 rest, with a throbbing at his head and heart 
 as if both would have burst.
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 I marvel all this while where the old gentleman has found means 
 to secrete himself. It seems no man has heard of him since. — John 
 WoouviL— A Tragedy. 
 
 If that I bear the spirit of a man. 
 
 Thou falsely see'st ! Think'st thou I am a beast; 
 
 A fanged wolf, reft of all kindly sense. 
 
 That I should do such deeds 1 Ethwald. 
 
 1 HE agitation of mind, with the fatigue 
 and wet clothes which Ardourly had so long 
 undergone, caused an illness which kept 
 him to his bed for some days ; and, during 
 this time the inquiries and lamentations of 
 the tenants, and the many who had expe- 
 rienced the good Laird's bounty, were un- 
 ceasing. But, though the whole country 
 testified the greatest sorrow and indigna-
 
 188 . THE PRIVATEER. 
 
 tion for his supposed fate, and the most 
 ardent desire to avenge it, nothing occurred 
 which could, in any way, elucidate the mys- 
 tery. 
 
 The supposition most prevalent was, that 
 the smugglers having seen Henry part from 
 the soldiers by a light which was too 
 imperfect to distinguish his identity, had 
 believed him to be one of them, and endea- 
 voured at a venture to dispossess themselves 
 of an enemy. Having afterwards found his 
 horse, and subsequently met the Laird on 
 foot by the same uncertain light, the murder 
 (if such it was,) might, possibly have been 
 committed under a mistake; 
 
 But this was only supposition, and a week 
 passed without any discovery or particular 
 suspicion ; when, on looking over the Aber- 
 deen paper for the insertion of the high 
 reward he had offered, to his utter astonish-
 
 THE PRIVATEER. 189 
 
 ment, Ardourly cast his eyes upon the fol- 
 lowing passage : — 
 
 ** The extraordinary disappearance of Mr. 
 Ayrton of Invercraig, still remains unexplained ; 
 but, it is hinted that suspicion would not be 
 misapplied were it directed towards those whose 
 interests are most concerned in the event. He 
 is said to have adopted, as his successor, a 
 young gentleman whose situation, if accidental, 
 was peculiarly unfortunate on that mysterious 
 night." 
 
 Ardourly was thunderstruck — " Gracious 
 heavens," he exclaimed, " am I not de- 
 ceived } Pointed out as an assassin ! My 
 name made infamous by such a complica- 
 tion of inhuman depravity ! Why did I not 
 listen to the suggestions of my own breast, 
 and timely resist the offer of prospects to 
 which I had no claim? How much worse 
 than my worst forebodings has been the 
 event ! My compliance has not only afforded
 
 190 THE PRIVATEER. 
 
 plausible grounds for the insinuations of 
 this scoundrel, but has indeed, (if it is true 
 that my kind friend was mistaken for me,) 
 been the cause of the lamentable catastrophe 
 I am charged with effecting. Why did I 
 not attend to the warning of my secret 
 monitor?" 
 
 This recollection shot a chill to his in- 
 most soul. 
 
 " If Jessie Colraith was connected with 
 those from whom my life was in danger, 
 must she not be so with the murderers of 
 Invercraig ?" 
 
 It was a thought which had recurred to his 
 mind every moment in the day, and, though 
 a short time ago, (when no one but him- 
 self was concerned,) her single denial of the 
 letters would have amply convinced him, the 
 event which had come to pass was of too 
 fearful a magnitude to warrant a blind ad-
 
 THE PRIVATEER. 191 
 
 herence to the same confidence. The sup- 
 position of an ambitious lover returned with 
 double violence. That Mr. Ayrton might, 
 in the depth of the wood, be mistaken for 
 Ardourly, was not unlikely ; but that there 
 had been any mistake in the first attack 
 upon himself, he could scarcely be brought 
 to allow. The writer to whom he attributed 
 his letters had been divulged to none, and 
 he resolved to say nothing of it, but retain 
 to himself the advantage of observing Miss 
 Colraith*s conduct, unguarded by the know- 
 ledge of his suspicions. Still, however, an 
 employment so humiliating to both parties 
 was hostile to his disposition, and he deter- 
 mined first to see what could be drawn from 
 her justice and generous feeling. He would 
 send her the paragraph he had just been 
 reading, and, if she proved cruel and infa-
 
 192 THE PRIVATEER. 
 
 tuated enough to let his character still suffer 
 for the crime of another, it would then be 
 justifiable to adopt the less ingenuous pro- 
 ceeding. 
 
 He was internipted in the arrangement of 
 his plans by the entrance of Kenneth, who 
 saw with alarm, that his handsome face 
 which had become pale from sickness and 
 soiTOw, was much flushed and disordered. 
 
 " Master Henry," said his humble, but 
 sympathizing friend, " I hope nothing fresh 
 has happened." 
 
 " No, Kenneth, nothing — I was just want- 
 ing you to take this paper to your young 
 lady of Brachenshaw. DeUver it into her 
 own hands, and desire her to read the para- 
 graph I have marked, of which she will be 
 good enough to send me her opinion." 
 
 Kenneth said there would be no need to
 
 THE PRIVATEER. 193 
 
 carry it far, for he had come to say the 
 Brachenshaw coach was on the road, and 
 would arrive immediately. 
 
 " It is in good time," said Ardourly ; " do 
 as I have directed you, and say that I will 
 see them all presently, but that I wish first to 
 be allowed a few minutes' conversation with 
 Miss Colraith. — ^Can it be," he continued 
 when Kenneth was gone, " that she has de- 
 termined to make an honourable disclosure, 
 or am I only to see the indefatigable Mrs. 
 M*Kay come with fresh ardour, to her attack 
 upon the newly-elevated heir ?" 
 
 He felt extremely nervous at the approach- 
 ing interview, and the flush which had been 
 raised by indignation had given place to 
 more than his former paleness ; while his 
 hand shook to a degree which scarcely per- 
 mitted him to open a small desk, from which 
 he drew forth a sealed packet just as Jessie 
 
 VOL. I. o
 
 194 THE PRIVATEER. 
 
 entered. She held in her hand the paper 
 which Kenneth had given her, but it dropped 
 to the ground when she beheld Ardourly. 
 Both were equally agitated, and both were 
 shocked at the appearance of the other. 
 
 " Miss Colraith," said Henry, taking her 
 extended hand, and leading her to a seat, 
 *' this is condescending much. There are 
 few who would offer me a hand, as affairs 
 stand now. But, perhaps, you have not yet 
 read the discovery in the paper I sent you ?" 
 Jessie spoke not. " Will you not oblige 
 me with your opinion, as to its truth or 
 falsehood?" 
 
 She had been struggling to master her 
 feelings, but they could be restrained no 
 longer, and she burst into tears. " Have I 
 deserved that you should doubt what my 
 opinion must be ? Oh, think better of me !" 
 
 " Enough — you beheve I am slandered."
 
 THE PRIVATEER. 195 
 
 He watched her wan and beautiful counte- 
 nance in trembling expectation of what was 
 to follow ; but she only leant her head upon 
 her hand and wept. It was not likely that, 
 seeing so little of him as she had done, and 
 being acquainted with the late event from 
 the time it took place, her tears could flow 
 so fast for Mr. Ayrton, nor was it probable 
 that her short acquaintance could make her 
 feel so much for Ardourly ; and, therefore, he 
 thought her grief could only be deduced 
 from the guilt of those that were dearer to 
 her. Still he waited in vain for an avowal 
 of this nature, and by degrees essayed, by 
 the simple detail of his distress, to speak 
 more forcibly to her heart. His reputation, 
 he said, was stained with the sacred blood of 
 a benefactor ; his acquaintance was a disgrace 
 to all who partook of it; his life, henceforth, 
 was only given him to be hooted and exe-
 
 196 THE PRIVATEER. 
 
 crated. How different from his dreams of 
 retired happiness ! How different from the 
 circle of the fond relations he had left and 
 lost! 
 
 Still Jessie shaded her dark eyes, and 
 appeared not to notice what he was say- 
 ing, except by the quick rising of her 
 bosom. 
 
 " I spoke of my dreams of happiness," he 
 continued. " There was one amongst them 
 the sweetest and the deadhest. We have 
 met seldom, but there are those whom we 
 need see but once to love for ever. Forgive 
 me if I speak too bold — the wretched must 
 have license. I loved you, and I thought 
 how we two might roam amongst the wilds 
 to cheer the toil-worn mountaineer, while 
 blessings hallowed the atmosphere around 
 us. But it was a dream, and I had not 
 mentioned it but that it never can be ful-
 
 THE PRIVATEER. 197 
 
 filled, and better shows the extent of my 
 misery. I ask not whether it might not 
 have been so ; enough for me — it cannot ; 
 for there are those who, in such a case, 
 would not spare even the lovely Jessie! 
 None would believe but that you parti- 
 cipated in the means whereby your husband 
 prospered ; and oh, I must change much ere 
 I could bear to hear you spoken of as I 
 shall be !" 
 
 As he said this, there was, in his voice, 
 a tone of subdued bitterness which might 
 have been supposed to pierce her deeply had 
 it been addressed to a conscious heart ; but 
 her agitation had been so great from the 
 first, that, however his words might have 
 been understood, the effect was impercep- 
 tible. It was some minutes^before she could 
 sufficiently command her feelings to reply 
 to him, and then the gentleness of eveiy
 
 198 THE PRIVATEER. 
 
 accent seemed to upbraid him for the 
 thoughts he had entertained. Her sorrow 
 for his illness, her comfort for his distress, 
 her mild assurances that none would listen 
 to the injurious reports of his ill-wishers but 
 those who were beneath his consideration, 
 all assisted to melt his mind to the mood 
 most favourable to her. He saw it was 
 impossible to behold her without dismissing 
 every feeling but admiration and love, and 
 he almost dreaded lest he should reveal the 
 whole of his suspicions, and deprive himself 
 of all future prospect of satisfaction. To 
 keep within bounds, therefore, he came to 
 the business which had been his excuse for 
 desiring a private interview ; and he did it 
 the more readily, because it would afford 
 aonther appeal to her heart. 
 
 " When T came to Invercraig," he said, 
 " I will grant that my great inducement, or
 
 THE PRIVATEER. 199 
 
 the inducement for the persuasions of my 
 friends, was the invitation to look upon it as 
 my future inheritance. This, perhaps, was 
 bad enough, and, 1 dare say, our neighbours 
 did not bate one jot of the usual observa- 
 tions on such occurrences; but I was to 
 blame no further. I came with a full assu- 
 rance that there were none who could urge 
 the superior claims of relationship. I never 
 knew, till the day before I first saw you, 
 that these claims were possessed by Miss 
 Colraith." 
 
 Ardourly broke the seal of the packet 
 which lay on the table and desired her to 
 read, which she did, and found that the 
 whole of the Invercraig property was be- 
 queathed to him. 
 
 " That will," he said, " our kind friend 
 insisted upon writing in my presence, and 
 delivering into my care ; the property it
 
 200 THE PRIVATEER. 
 
 conveys is committed to my charge as a 
 means of adding to my happiness, and this 
 intention can only be effected by the per- 
 formance of what I conceive to be just. In 
 default of a will you would have stood in 
 the same situation in which I do by the 
 existence of one ; and, by thus destroying it, 
 I obtain tenfold more satisfaction than I 
 could receive from thrice the possessions of 
 which I divest myself." 
 
 He made a motion to tear it, but Miss 
 Colraith started up and seized his arm: 
 " What is it you do !" she cried, " Think 
 you I will ever consent to profit by such 
 inconsiderate generosity? No, keep what 
 our poor friend (whom I regret the more 
 for his goodness to you,) keep what it was 
 his wish you should enjoy, and make me 
 happy by seeing you so." Thus saying, she 
 took the will from his hands, and placed
 
 THE PRIVATEER. 201 
 
 it in the desk from which it had been taken, 
 locked it, and tendered him the keys. 
 
 Her behaviour astonished him, and, for 
 the moment, he beheved it would be sacri- 
 lege to harbour a doubt of such a mind ; but 
 he was prevented from acting upon this 
 hasty impulse by the sound of voices ap- 
 proaching the door. They were the tones 
 of Mr. M'Kay and his wife in round argu- 
 ment. 
 
 " Mr. M'Kay, I tell you I must see what 
 they are about. It is highly improper for a 
 young lady to be so long closeted with a 
 young gentleman." 
 
 " Mrs. M'Kay, they are doing nothing 
 wrong, and, therefore you can have no satis- 
 faction in peeping." 
 
 But, in a trial of strength, Lady Brachen- 
 shaw gained the victory, and burst into the 
 room with a great deal of triumph, and very 
 little ceremony.
 
 202 THE PRIVATEER. 
 
 " My dear Mr. Ardourly, I am so happy 
 to see you — how very ill you look, but I do 
 not wonder at it after your friend's horrible 
 murder. And then that they should say you 
 did it! I should be afraid of seeing his 
 ghost ! Pray, was he shot or was his throat 
 cut?" 
 
 " Really, madam, I cannot gratify you — 
 I trust in Providence that we shall still hear 
 of him — he may still live, for we have no po- 
 sitive proofs to the contrary/' 
 
 " Indeed!" said Mrs. M^Kay, with a face 
 considerably lengthened, " I am very sorry 
 — that is, I am very glad you have hopes. — 
 Do not let me interrupt business, I am sure 
 I must be quite as much interested in your 
 concerns as Miss Colraith, although she has 
 occupied so much of your time, and so long 
 impeded our journey to Aberdeen?" 
 
 " Are you then on your way to Aber- 
 deen?"
 
 THE PRIVATEER. 203 
 
 " Yes, to be sure — has not she told you 
 that? I am sure I do not know what she 
 could have been talking about all this while." 
 By this time, with the assistance of Miss 
 Grey, Mr. M^Kay had hobbled up stairs, 
 and saluted Henry in a much more becoming 
 and feeling manner than his partner had 
 done, though his consolation concluded 
 somewhat ludicrously. 
 
 " It is a sad thing," he said, " to die un- 
 prepared ; I always feared it would be my own 
 case, for I have ever had some new object 
 of inquiry, or some new piece in hand which 
 I did not expect I should live to finish — But 
 I have resolved to seek no further after I 
 have found out the fapilio Menelaus, or giant 
 butterfly of Brazil ; and to begin no more 
 pictures after I have completed the daft 
 Captain's design of " Death on the Pale 
 Horse," but hold myself in readiness to
 
 204 THE PRIVATEER. 
 
 jump up behind him — and — and — let me see 
 — ay — and, as I was saying, we are going 
 to Aberdeen to see if our conjectures were 
 right.—" 
 
 " What conjectures, my good Sir?" 
 
 ** About your health, papa," said Miss 
 Colraith, looking full in his face. 
 
 " Ay, ay, about my health, lad. For 
 sea air, is it, Jessie, girl? Come along, 
 we shall have pretty nigh fifty miles to 
 go — there, there; come along, I say, 
 Lady Brachenshaw, and leave the lad 
 alone." 
 
 It was no easy matter to persuade Mrs. 
 M'Kay to leave the room, and when she was 
 at last dragged off, it was with many as- 
 surances that there would always be a bed 
 for Mr. Ardourly at Aberdeen, and that he 
 had better come, or his own throat would 
 certainly be the next to suffer, which would
 
 THE PRIVATEER. 205 
 
 cause great grief to herself, and break the 
 heart of her niece. 
 
 This unexpected visit was a powerful 
 soother to the perturbed mind of our hero, 
 for the melting kindness with which Mis 6 
 Colraith had come to console him, and the 
 noble rejection of her proper inheritance, 
 which he now hoped he might some day 
 restore by another title, formed a subject of 
 meditation from which his late gloomy pro- 
 spects arose, as persons are said to have 
 done from the fabled Bath of Beauty, with 
 something of their pristine brilliancy. Yet 
 were the loss of his lamented benefactor, 
 and the injurious reports of his own cha- 
 racter, too deeply felt to admit of his ex- 
 ulting in these prospects with the elasticity of 
 an unburthened heart; and he contemplated 
 the future with a sad and oppressive remem- 
 brance of the present.
 
 20G THE PRIVATEER. 
 
 Days and weeks passed, and the Laird's 
 fate still remained unknown. Every post 
 that came brought something to Henry's 
 disadvantage; but though his neighbours 
 began to look shyly upon him, the general 
 sentiment continued to be expressed by neg- 
 lect only, except in a few instances, where 
 petty malice was allowed the mastery over 
 better feelings. 
 
 Yet did not this mistrust prevail amongst 
 the Invercraig peasantry, who could not 
 have loved and honoured him more had he 
 been born their master, and nurtured in 
 their native hills. 
 
 He visited them, and attended to their 
 wants with the same goodness of heart they 
 had been used to, and could not have acted 
 more conformably to the system of the late 
 Laird, had he expected him to return to see 
 how his affairs had been conducted. But with
 
 THE PRIVATEER. 207 
 
 all this domestic attachment to his person, 
 Henry did not find his situation acquire a 
 proportionable degree of tranquillity ; though 
 fond of retirement he was not formed for 
 solitude, and there was no friend in his own 
 sphere to banish it. He looked on the path- 
 less moimtains, bleak, brown, and desolate, 
 in the dreary commencement of a long win- 
 ter, and sighed to feel himself a single 
 stranger far from all who could take a na- 
 tural interest in him ; enclosed in a country 
 which was thinly inhabited, and those inha- 
 bitants, for the most part, hostile to him 
 and compelled to admit the justness of his 
 warnings by the necessity of taking precau- 
 tions for his safety. 
 
 As nothing, since he had acquitted Jessie, 
 occurred to alter his suspicion of the 
 smugglers, his inquiries were principally 
 confined to them ; for they made no secret of
 
 208 THE PRIVATEER. 
 
 their calling, but only of the outrages inci- 
 dent to it, and the whole of them in that 
 part of the hills were, by the assistance of 
 Kenneth, shortly known to him ; but in vain 
 did he venture his person in the hovels of 
 illegal traffic, and in vain seek for the grand 
 confidant and assistant in their mal-prac- 
 tices, the trust-worthy Kitty Rankie, or her 
 invisible son. Sometimes he resolved to 
 look for a comforter at Aberdeen, but again 
 he thought that whilst there was a chance 
 of information he was in duty bound to re- 
 main at Invercraig, where he wandered about 
 the castle in grief, discontent, and daily dis- 
 appointment. 
 
 His only amusement was to encourage the 
 simple muse of Kenneth, and speak to him 
 of Jessie Colraith. It was a theme that both 
 were fond of. She had not only fostered 
 the young poet's genius, and rewarded it
 
 THE PRIVATEER. 209 
 
 with the praise he most loved to hsten to, 
 but had comforted and made easy the latter 
 days of two distressed parents. Kenneth 
 felt with the suscepti])ility of a poetic heart. 
 He loved his sweet patroness, but it was 
 with a feeling as humble as it was hope- 
 less, and pure as a younger sister of religion 
 herself. He only loved to be where she had 
 been, to preserve the flower which had been 
 crushed by her slender foot, and bathe his 
 temples in the wave which had reflected her 
 features. To see her pale countenance catch 
 a beam from the happy faces which had 
 been Hghted up by her goodness, and one 
 leaf from the wilding branch of his poesy, 
 wafted on the breath which hailed her bridal 
 day. 
 
 Next to Jessie he loved his young master. 
 He saw him lonely and sad, and hebrooded 
 on the only means which could complete 
 
 VOL. I. p
 
 210 THE PRIVATEER. 
 
 their happiness, with an enthusiastic behef 
 that they were both too good for any but 
 each other. To have looked forward to the 
 marriage of Jessie with any one else would, 
 perhaps, have cost poor Kenneth more bit- 
 ter moments than he dared own to himself ; 
 but when he gained courage to mention the 
 present likelihood, it was with an untroubled 
 brow, and a heart most anxious for its ac- 
 complishment. 
 
 The subject was canvassed often, and 
 the companions hked each other better as 
 they became further acquainted with their 
 mutual hking for Jessie. The objections 
 which Ardourly adduced from the cruel ru- 
 mours against his own name were combated 
 with all the arguments which could be sug- 
 gested by an earnest desire of success ; and, 
 by degrees, gave way, till his hesitatmg 
 mind consented to follow the dictates of his
 
 THE PRIVATEER. 211 
 
 heart, and a day was really fixed for tiying 
 his fortune at Aberdeen. 
 
 As he mounted his horse he pressed the 
 hand of his humble friend with a true sense 
 of his value, while Kenneth followed him 
 with the fondest wishes of his heart, and the 
 best eloquence of his Muse. 
 
 And thou art gone ! thy mountain tower, 
 
 Is lone and lifeless now — 
 More bleakly drives the winter shower, 
 
 More dreary drifts the snow. 
 
 The wild wind o'er my head doth hiss, 
 
 The only voice I hear, 
 But, while it wafts thee on to bliss, 
 
 I seek no other cheer. 
 
 Oh lovely are the lips that breathed 
 
 The poet's early lays. 
 And gentle is the hand that wreath 'd 
 
 His brow with early bays.
 
 212 THE PRIVATEER. 
 
 For ever may they lead thee o'er 
 Where moments gaily bloom, 
 
 While every one is brightened more 
 By hopes of more to come. 
 
 For me no other joy I'd share, 
 Than twine her name with thine — 
 
 A chaplet ever sweet and fair 
 That pays her back for mine. 
 
 END OF VOL. I, 
 
 LONDON, 
 
 PKINTKl) BY WILLIAM CLOAVLS. 
 
 NorUiiuiibei land-cdiii t-