^^i uJLo^ iv^u. 't^^. m«^ L I B RARY OF THE UN IVERSITY Of ILLl N015 89.3 D394g v.l ^"^^.L 7 ^S GLEjV LONELY. VOL. I. London : Printed by A. Spottiswoode, New-Street-Square. GLENLONELY. IN THREE VOLUMES. VOL. I. LONDON: PRINTED FOR LONGMAN, REES, ORME, BROWN, GREEN, & LONGMAN, PATKRKOSTER-ROW. 1837. Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2010 with funding from University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign http://www.archive.org/details/glenlonelyinthre01deme QZ5 t GLENLONELY CHAPTER I. M^HO can have lived in Tuscany and not have felt the glories of its opening day? It is an hour peculiar to that favoured division of Italy, — not quite Italian, but one wherein the freshness of Old England is blended with the soft witcheries of the south. It was in the spring of 18 — that the gallant but " unattached" Colonel Murray found him- self and his dog humbly but comfortably lodged at the wild village of "Albergo di Castello," a romantic spot, which commands a view of the Adriatic, and, though surrounded by the finest scenery, is of course unknown to those travellers VOL. I. u GLENLONELV. who pursue the beaten track, and, like a flock of geese, merely follow the leader w^hose ex- perience tells where the best feed is to be found. Colonel Murray had retired to his bed of dry leaves, wearied in body by his usual rambles amidst the mountains, and more than usually fatigued in mind by the unlooked-for events of the day. This mental suffering was, we confess, an affliction which rarely occurred. Wedded from boyhood to the profession of arms, and even be- trothed to the grim goddess in his cradle, he had fulfilled the auspices of his warlike nativity by dis- tinguishing himself in all the campaigns of Wel- lington. At an early age he was separated from the mistress of his heart by the peace of Europe; but his character was confirmed: he w^as the thorough soldier, and the mind of such a man is rarely oppressed by the depth of thought. The hurried and endless changes which chequer the life of a warrior prepare him for all that can happen; his reflections are confined to the tac- tics of his art; he has no time for more; and if these inspire decision and action as the trials fall, it is enough : he has a shield for the hour GLENLONELY. 3 -)£ danger, and a strong tower in the day of battle. But we must not suppose that the fre- quent scenes of misery and bloodshed can de- stroy the kindlier feelings of the heart ; their growth is checked, but the root is not withered: like the bow, they recover their elasticity with the rest of peace ; and the sternest follower of the camp is still the father, son, or brother, when returned to the bosom of his family. With the termination of the war. Colonel Murray flew to his native home, — his own dear Highlands. Frank and generous by nature, pre- served by the hand of Providence through a thousand perils, his fond and anxious mother pressed him to her heart, as a being rescued from the grave; while his lovely sisters, with the pure fervour of affection, paid that adoration which a kind and only brother is wont to re- ceive. In their eyes he was all-perfect: blessed in the happiness of their own roof, their love, their undivided love, was centered there, and for a short, but happy time, they dreamed that their brother would leave them no more, — that they B 2 4 GLENLONELY. could never know a wish beyond the present bUss. But, alas ! their idolized Colonel was mortal; and, what was more likely to destroy the dream of his worshippers, he was, as we have said, every inch a soldier, and he wearied with the " dolce far nienter He revered his parent, and loved his sisters; he felt flattered — and what man would not? — by the homage of the innocent; but the temptation of witnessing the Russian campaign against the Turks was irresistible. Having long since quite decided upon the means of attack and defence of every position within twenty miles of his home, he bade a warm farewell to his united family ; and, availing himself of an in- troduction to Prince Borrowouski, he indulged in the love of his profession as an amateur, un- til the Turkish cimeter bowed in homage to the northern conquerors. Once more he returned, and once again his active and restless mind became palled with the honied tameness of a country life. What was to be done ? The mighty powers of Europe were too poor to play at war, — that harmless, GLENLONELY. 5 fascinating, but expensive game ! Lives they had more than enough to stake; but then a man must be well fed, and gaily clad, before he is fit to be shot; moreover, he must be killed in a style worthy of civilisation ; and without money this cannot be done. The Russian autocrat had no more rebellious troops to destroy with glory ; he had won an empire which he dared not hold, and now was quietly playing the tyrant at home. The king of ditches and frogs was croaking, but had not resolved to defend the only mole- hill in his submarine kingdom. In short, the world was most provokingly quiescent, and the Colonel not a little puzzled to know what he could do. At length he determined to visit Italy, and explore the less frequented beauties of its mountain pass or smiling valley. To him the works of nature were dearer than those of art, excepting always the art of war. The vision of departed conquerors, from the great Hannibal to the greater Napoleon, was before his eyes : to retrace their steps was to him the path of pleasure, — to stand upon a battle-field B 3 b GLENLONEL\. was that exquisite and satisfactory delight which we may suppose an animal to feel when, after a temporary abstraction, it is returned to its native element. At the commencement of the chapter we have introduced Colonel Murray as being do- miciled for the night at the village of Albergo di Castello. We have alluded to a more than usual degree of pensive reflection, — an event which had been caused by meeting with one of his dearest and earliest friends, and this, too, under circumstances as unexpected as they were extraordinary. We have spoken also of his warm and kindly feelings; but, in this respect, we might have done him more ample justice, had we admitted our readers to the parting from his sorrowing mother. Most assuredly events of deep interest are imparted to the atmosphere we breathe; they must travel with the winds, or form an alliance with that electric fluid, which, doubtless, is ever traversing the globe, and pervading all things. The result, though not the cause, was know^n to the ancients : they gave ears to a dead wall, GLENLONELY. 7 wings and a speaking-trumpet to the goddess Fame ; but it remained to us of the marching intellect to devise a more rational theory. It must be so ; let the conductor be what it may, electricity alone can carry the despatches. How otherwise could we have known the victory of Waterloo, long before mortal messenger could have travelled the space between us and that immortal spot ? A rail-road by sea and land would not have given the speed with which the news were transmitted. How otherwise can we account for the fact linked w^ith the burnt Houses of Lords and Commons, the destruction of which was known at Birmingham before they had taken fire ? O ! that the wisdom of the Privy Council had smacked of philosophy ! — what cost and labour might have been spared, had they asked which way the wind blew, or known our theory of " new and expeditious travelling ! " This is a digression ; but we make no apology to the novel-reader of this age : we know our metier; we are writing to senators, who, thanks to penny magazines, have picked up the knowledge B 4 8 GLENLONELY. of children. To the young, who were taught the pursuit of knowledge when they toddled in the go-cart of infancy — to such it were an in- sult to offer amusement without instruction. We have no wish to offend ; and being much too ambitious to be distanced in the race of reform, we shall make no apology for being wise just as often as the humour suits us. Having communicated this theory of floating rumours, we leave our readers to set a watch upon their tongues, and reflect upon the trans- mission of scandal. In our case, we merely wish to account for the knowledge which the Colonel's mother had acquired. Her son had breathed not a word of his intended departure ; he had not named it to his all-confiding sisters ; his servant, a veteran from the ranks, had heard nothing of the movements which were about to be ; and yet his very dog had taken to watch his master's eye and footsteps : it was an under- stood thing that he was going. The thing " had taken wind^^ to use a term wisely applied by the ignorant of former days ; and when the Colonel went to his mother's boudoir to reveal his in- GLENLOXELY. 9 tentions, he was startled to find that he had nothing to disclose. An ambush could not have surprised him more : for days past he had pondered how he should make his approaches to the subject ; with the mercy of a soldier, who, to gain a given point, sacrifices the least possible number of fel- low-creatures, he had studied how to win his way, without inflicting unnecessary pain. Heavy news can be lightened by the manner of imparting them. The Colonel had mustered a host of gentle arguments — allies ever at hand to strengthen our own wishes ; but they fled before the artless penetration of a mother : she read his thoughts. Resting her arm upon his shoulder, she bent the warrior's frame of iron; and, having planted a kiss upon his noble brow, whispered in his ear — " My son, you will leave us ! " The words were uttered in the tone of sad prediction, or they might have borne the inter- pretation of hope and inquiry; here, these could not exist, and the Colonel had only to surrender the simple truth, and say, " Mother, I am B 5 10 GLENLONELT. To know the worst is always a relief to the mind; and after this frank confession they were able to make the intended journey their theme of conversation: nay, more than this, the mother listened to his love of glory — the deeds of the mighty dead — till she caught the spirit of en- thusiasm, and felt with the feelings of her son. As they rose to part, " I have," said he, " one request to make, one offering to bestow, and which, for my sake, I know you will value. I possess," he continued, " the first cannon-ball that was fired by the Turks in the Russian campaign; it was the gift of Prince Borro- wouski. The Prince and suite were taking the first survey of the Turkish lines ; engrossed by the interest of our discussion, intent upon the observation of great things, we overlooked one trifling fact, until the whizzing of a shot re- minded us that we had approached somewhat too near to the enemy. The ball, though nearly spent, passed between the Prince and myself." At these words a slight quiver of the lip, a passing pallor of the cheek, might have been remarked, had the Colonel watched the features GLENLONELY. 11 of his heroic mother ; but, as he did not, he continued his account by saj^ing, — " We looked at each other, and smiled to think how the thread of our discourse had been cut in two. Whether the Prince thought of the chance which had nearly severed the thread of his life, I know not; for, in an instant, he galloped after the ball, and, having exhumed it from the sand in which it was buried, he pre- sented it to me as a mark of his esteem. ' Keep it,' he said, * in remembrance of this campaign, — the gift of a Russian to an Englishman whom he honours as his friend.' " * The reader may smile; but does not every relic owe its value to the power of imagination — the associations it creates ? What is the dirty coin of the antiquary? tlie poet's brick from Tasso's prison ? the lock of hair to the lover? Their spell is broken when we change their possessors ; — the tapered finger of patrician lady would scorn to touch the dirty copper; the builder's eve vrould view the brick * Mutato nomine — a fact. B G 12 GLENLONELY. according to his art, and fix a value propor* tioned to its hardness; the hair of the loveliest unknown but we need not pursue the comparative declension ; the reader may deem the offering quaint and misplaced in a lady's- boudoir, but he must comprehend how it gained in the mother's eye that value with which her son's imagination had stamped it. The love of truth obliges us to confess that the Colonel did touch upon the verge of the ridiculous as he delivered the relic. He had concluded its little history, and, in placing it within his mother's hands, quite forgot how ill- proportioned they were to the weight of iron. Down fell the ball, slightly wounding, and all but smashing, that portion of body most unro- mantically styled toe : he, however, was too much in earnest to be disconcerted by the ac- cident ; and the mother's heart was much too sad to catch the ray of mirth. " Place it, my son," she said, " on yonder table; and there, amidst my glittering baubles, its sterner form shall be as a Mentor amongst the young and heedless ; — it shall teach a GLENLONELY. 13 mother to raise her thoughts to Him whose mercy has hitherto preserved her truant boy ; and," she continued, in words scarcely audible, from the grief she could no longer restrain, — " and I will humbly pray that he may once again be restored to bis home." We should not have lifted the veil of this parting scene, but we felt a sting which tickled, if it did not prick, our conscience. We feared that we had given a wrong impression of the frank and noble Colonel : if it were so, we now feel that his character cannot be mistaken. The man who can invest a trifle with the value of a jewel, cannot be a bad man ; there is the milk of humanity within his heart, I shall never forget a German officer who landed at Dover, in 1814, in the suite of the Emperors. He was mustachoed and whiskered — in size exceeding most, in features excelling all around him ; but the cast of those features, though fine, was fixed and uncompromising. His age must have touched upon fifty, — a time when the heart within is apt to be frozen as the exterior. He seemed like one of those cannon 14 GLENLONELY. which he had often led to victory, so unbend- ing was the grandeur of his beauty. Yet this very man, as he sprang upon the shore, bent upon his knee, seized a pebble from the beach, kissed it with fervour, and then con- cealed it in the folds of his military cloak. The whole was the action of a moment, and he was " himself again " ere I had recovered from my astonishment. I looked at the man — there was one pure drop upon the grey mustachio ; but whether it sprang from the source of hidden feeling, or was but the spray of the dashing waves, I know not ; there certainly was no other trace, — no link wherewith to form a decision. It may be supposed I could not lose sight of a being whose actions had thus riveted my in- terest. I found the opportunity of an introduc- tion ; and, when quite alone, I ventured to seek an explanation. He smiled — for I soon dis- covered that he could do so ; yes, smiling with a look which would have soothed an infant, he said, — " My mother is English : she married a foreigner ; and, amidst the trials of a chequered GLENLONELY. 15 life, banishment from her native country was not the least. She had pined, like a Swiss, to revisit her home once more ; but the lengthened war under Napoleon rendered this impossible ; and when at length the prospect of his fall held out the possibility, declining health con- fined her to her couch. She had taught me her native tongue, and her last words are en- graven upon my memory : — ' Should your feet touch the English shore, for my sake bless the country which gave me birth — gather some token from the print of your first footstep, and beai' it to me, in remembrance of the land which I shall see no more ! ' " But, alas ! this is foreign to our purpose ; — how sadly have we wandered — how unwisely have we been betrayed ! We have cast off the cloak of authorship, and written " I " instead of " we." This must not occur again, or we may be supposed to possess but one head. We beg leave to state that this is not the case ; and, to convince the reader, he shall find a head to every future chapter. Ere we conclude this, and rejoin our thorough- 16 GLENLONELY. bred English Colonel at Albergo di Castello, we will merely say, that the Turkish cannon-ball holds its appointed station in Lady Murray's sanctum; excepting now and then, when the clumsiness of some permitted guest, or bustling of ill-omened housemaid, disturbs its vis inertice, and makes it describe an orbit which threatens a world of china and nick-nackeries. GLENLONELY. 17 CHAP. II. THE BLUNT RAZOR ; OR SOLDIER TURNED PHILOSOPHER. Mysterious chords within the human breast, What trifles wake your long-continued rest ! How feelings, hush'd where slaughter'd thousands lie, A pang confess if some poor insect die I Whitehead. Colonel Murray arose from his simple but luxurious couch, refreshed by the slumber which its fi-agrance had induced. The morning wa^ one of those which we have mentioned as peculiar to Tuscany. A freshness had fallen upon all created things, and engendered that joyous spring of life, that fulness of happiness, which makes the spirit bound and overflow. The flowers, having doffed the veil of night, were opening their charms to welcome the 18 GLENLONELY. rising sun, — to feel its light and warmth, which to them was life. The very animals appeared to have forjjotten the calls of huno;er in their sense of joy : the air was harmony with the outpour- ings of the merry birds. The squirrel, dropping his nut uncracked, described his aerial arc, and leapt from twig to twig ; the hare, ceasing to crop its dainty clover, now stamped with mimic fear, now frolicked with its mate, or paused to wash its whiskers in the morning dew. This was no bad hint to the Colonel, who had watched Miss Pussy's toilet, and forgotten that it was high time to think of his own. His spirits had risen with the scene before him ; for who can look on happiness, nor feel its rays reflected ? " Woman," said he, as his thoughts recurred to Eden, " what a glorious picture has thy first frailty dashed with sorrow ! Yet, what is the diamond without a dowager to wear it ? w^hat is happiness unshared with others? and, but for the sentence passed upon the disobedient, — ' replenish the earth and die,' — we had not been here to breathe our span of life, and figure to ourselves the harmony of earth ere sin existed." GLENLONELY. 19 The Colonel paused : he had wandered, with- out an effort, to the bowers of Eden ; he had improved upon the reality before his eyes, and pictured the graceful image of Eve as she petted the monarch of the woods : but he started at the depth of his own thoughts when he found himself sinking into metaphysics. The meet- ing of yesterday recurred in full force, as he felt that the tone of his mind was caused by the impression it had made. He had promised a long visit to the friend of his youth; and, gathering one of the clustered oranges, which cried " come eat me," he bent aside the shady boughs, and left the little bal- cony into which his bedroom opened. As he seated himself before the glass, and looked, fct upon the golden fruit, then upon his reflected chin, once more he remembered Eden with a sigh, and envied the happiness of man ere he knew the misery of a bad razor. Some black-muzzled philosopher has balanced the penance of shaving against the rule of mul- tiplication adjudged to woman. Whether his scale of punishment be correct or not, there is "20 GLENLONELY. a quaintness in the idea which must strike every man who wears not a beard. " Why," said he with vexation, as he toiled to effect a union between the soap and the hard-hearted water, " why have we deserted the wise and becoming practice of our forefathers ? Who can call to mind the pointed beards of Vandyke's all- glorious days — who look upon the Greek patri- archs of modern times, and not allow that the fashion which robs the face of its noblest orna- ment merits the punishment it entails ? " Here his mouth was closed by an attempt to pro- pitiate his chin ; it might not be. Newton himself would have dropped his pipe, and never blown a bubble to make the thoughtless laugh and the grave look wiser. The ineffectual attempt allowed him to re- sume his reflections, which flowed, as usual, in the channel tinged wdth the colour of his own profession. " A plague upon the barber's art, which robs a man of his own ! Nature was wiser than the War Office; she knew what a ticklish thing was the neck of man, and, with the skill of an engineer, she planted a chevaux- GLENLONELY. 21 de-frise upon the chin, to guard against the love of cutting one another's throats." While the Colonel's anger, with the spirit of a disappointed man, found rehef in blaming the government, his hand was more profitably employed by walking its weary round, and producing at length a promising crop of bubbles. Another trial ; but, alas ! the elements had conspired against him : water had already done its worst, and now the air of spring and warmth of the rising sun united their powers to betray. These — or it might have been his eloquence — seduced a venerable fly to venture from its winter quarters. It can be no easy matter to awake at once from a six months' nap, and it is still more difficult for the old to grow young. The poor fly, feeling that invisible hand whose touch had quickened the pulse of living things and opened the eyes of every sleeping bud, looked dimly from the crevice in which it had slumbered securely. As its memories freshened, it sallied forth, and attempted, as of old, to walk the painted ceiling. 22 GLEXLONELY. But the destroyer, the never-sleeping Time, had watched through the winter hours ; at peep of morn — at dead of night — unceasing and unwearied, he had pursued his work of destruc- tion, while the unconscious insect enjoyed its lengthened dream. It now awoke to the truth. Its limbs were stiffened by age ; the muscles, exquisitely fine, had lost their elasticity and power ; — it dropped from the ceiling, and fell upon the nose of the persecuted Colonel. The assault was so novel and unexpected that he was taken by surprise, his operations were disconcerted, and he himself wounded in the retreat. A trifle, unexpected, can often rouse our anger more than the deepest provocation for which we are prepared. In this case he vowed vengeance by the god of war; and, eyeing the blood which trickled from his chin, was about to inflict the ''lex talionis'^ upon the innocent fly ; but, as we have already said, the Colonel's mind had been previously softened, and, as he raised his hand to strike, he beheld the offender GLENLONELY. 23 on its back, struggling, as it seemed, with ap- proaching death. He blushed to think how insignificant a thing can wake the evil passions of man ; and the arm and hand, which were about to take away life, were folded on his breast, relaxed and calm, as the limb of a sleeping infant. " Poor insect," he said, " thou hast little blood to lose ! " and, forgetful of his own hurt, he watched the fly with that curiosity which an atom can excite when we launch upon the ocean of thought. The wings, which last year sported in the sunbeams, and moved with a rapidity too swift for mortal eye to follow, now, alas ! had not the power to restore the insect to its footing : the one folded on the other seemed drooping and forlorn, as a peacock's tail which has drunk of the morning dew. The Colonel put forth his hand to aid the wishes of the dying ; once again the fly regained its legs, and slowly dragged itself within a ray of sun : the warmth revived its energies. It may be some dream of sunny youth returned : the wings were unfolded j 24 GLENLONELY. and for a moment it soared some inch or two above the bleached cover of the table. It was the last effort of nature ; once more it fell upon its back — its tiny proboscis quivered with agony — one by one its legs convulsively stretched forth, and then shrank to the body to move no more ! It might be impossible to trace the mysterious source; but certain it is, that a sigh escaped from the lips of our philosophic warrior, — from him who, oft and oft, had trodden the field of battle, and passed unmoved amidst the dead and dying. Such, however, is the chord of human feeling; atone time unbending as the oak, — at another touched like the aspen-leaf that quivers in the calm of sleeping nature. " And w^as it for this," said he, " that months were added to thy span of life ? why not have perished like the moth of the silk-worm, or died like the Alpine wanderer, who falls asleep, and wakes no more ? Why," he continued, " has Providence ordained a lethargy through w^inter, that thou shouldest come forth in spring, to feel OLENLONELY. 25 thou livest, and suffer death when all around is life and joy ?" If there were guilt in thus questioning the decree of an all-^dse and inscrutable Creator, it partook of that dark, yet redeeming power, which worketh all things for the best, and bringeth good out of evil. I\Ian is prone to question the means which surpass his wisdom, till the good and harmony resulting grow pal- pable to his vision. Colonel Murray's eye had wandered, after the manner of man, to himself; the tell-tale glass upon which he gazed gave a silent hint, that his dark and glossy hair had been touched by those straggling flakes of snow which herald the winter of old age. The decree of death to every living thing around us — the certainty of its fulfilment — is an awful contemplation in the day of health — in the hour of calm and perfect possession of reason. We may bear the sentence with firm- ness — look upon its accomplishment with in- difference, or even pray for the release of our immortal soul ; but this state of mind is in op- VOL. I. c 26 GLENLONELY. position to the love of life implanted in our nature. It may be produced by the drunken madness of our passions, by physical exhaus- tion when borne to the earth through sorrow or sickness ; it may be attained by animal courage in the strong, and holy resignation in the weak ; but, when these causes are absent, when, happy in ourselves, we look on nature in the beauties of her bridal garment, or on some one beloved being — young, innocent, perfect in form, and lovely in mind ; then, indeed, the certainty of death is an awful thought ! To know that decay, ruin, and desolation shall change all that is beautiful upon the face of the earth, is a truth which may call a tear from the firmest and the best of men. The death of the meanest insect — a prim- rose crushed by the passing wheel — destruction in any form, in the midst of life and happiness, is enough to touch this chord of sad reflection. How forcibly did this conviction strike the Colonel, as he contemplated the dead fly ! Thouo-h little of a naturalist, he scrutinised its structure ; and, as he marked the shaggj^ hairs GLENLONELY. 27 which nature had given as the cloak of age, he fancied he could detect more than one abso- lutely grey. " Alas, poor insect ! " he said, " and is not thy fate too often our own ? Do we not dream, and dream, through the winter of life, and only awake to die ? Do we not live as thouorh we o slept, blind to the change which Time is ever working — insensible to the warnings which the creeping hand of age is ever giving ? Thou hast not died in vain ! May I treasure the lesson thou hast given without daring to arraign that Providence which directs all things for the best ! " We cannot take upon ourselves to say whether the fly was buried with military honours or not ; but this we do know, that the Colonel thought he had enough of philosophy for one day, and accordingly proceeded with his toilet. More- over, we know that the incident of that mornino-, trifling as it may appear, paved the way to many a solemn meditation, for which the world never gave him credit. At length the mazes of the chin were fairly c 2 28 GLENLONELY. mown, the love-lock of the lower lip was duly pointed, the mustachoes of the upper curved and anointed : in conclusion, we are bound to confess, that a smile of mortal satisfaction brightened the features of the handsome Colonel, -as he convinced himself that the snow which liad nestled beneath his helmet had spared the sable robing of his face. Having discussed the merits of an Italian breakfast, he hailed his dog, who had impatiently watched every mouthful he took : with his gun under his arm, and a something between a game-bag and knapsack slung upon the shoulders of his guide, he sallied forth for the purpose of exploring the quarters of his dear and earliest friend. Before we start with him, it may be well to give the reader a short account of the unex- pected meeting between the two friends. Years had intervened since they had parted in Eng- land. Alas ! how great the change ! — how sadly had the promise of spring been swept away by the swelling tides of life ! In Colonel Murray the change displayed the banner of his art. GLENLONELY. 29 Soldier was written in his features, and traced in his step and bearing. In him the change was great, but it was such as time would woi'k upon one of his Highland towers : there would be the record of years, of the storms and buf- fetings of this world ; but the sinews of the cemented blocks would have hardened in the struggle, producing a union of strength and beauty, though beauty of a sterner cast. In making this simile, it is not our own judg- ment that has guided the pen ; we have trusted to woman's heart and eye. We know of those who knew him as the gay and joyous ensign ; but he won not then the admiration he com- manded now : yet, wounds and privations of a long campaign had changed him in all save the noble heart within. With his friend the change was greater, and one of a sadder hue. The Colonel had gained the reward for which ambi- tion struggled : hope, life, and animation flashed from his piercing glance. His friend had drunk the poisoned cup of disappointment : the soft, the calm, and sunken eye told of resignation and the wreck within. c 3 30 GLENLONELY. Herbert Lindsay and Colonel Murray had never met since they were in the midst of those attractions which London offers to the young and old, the fool, the wise, the thoughtless, and the philosopher : for all, London has a redeeming virtue. It may be justly styled the hot-bed of iniquity. Do not, we would ask, the seeds of corruption spring from the heated passions of every crowded population ? But what other city can we name as the point of union for the best, as well as the worst, — for the highest in intel- lect, as well as the lowest? Like the oil of the rose, which neither sinks beneath, nor mingles with the tainted stream on which it may be cast, thus it is that the great and good circulate with the stream of life, and meet in the heart of our Leviathan : the proportion may be small, the floating drops be few, compared to the mass of waters gathered to its source, but still the essence may be found by those who seek dili- gently ; the odour of goodness is a thing apart, and guides us with unerring certainty to its store of heavenly riches. The friends, as we have said, when they last GLENLONELY. 31 met, were units amidst the millions of the capital. Nearly alike in age, each panting to proceed upon his career of happiness, yet with prospects and circumstances widely differing the one from the other. While the Colonel, lost in the visions of mili- tary glory, looked to the point of his sword for fame and fortune, Herbert Lindsay, the inheritor of thousands, was about to unite his destinies with a being so lovely in form, so perfect in mind, that he trembled when he looked upon the vision before him. The fear that it might be — that it must be lost, shadowed his humble- mind, as he said within himself — " What am I, to merit such earthly happiness ? " Alas ! it seems as if the spirit of prophecy were given to those whose feelings are too finely strung to bear with the discord of this jarring world. But we must not anticipate — we must not at once raise the veil of future events: enough for the present to say, the marriage did not take place ; or, to quote from the chronicle^; of the day, — " We hear, from undoubted authority, that c 4 32 GLENLONELY. the intended union between the Hon. Herbert Lindsay and Miss St. Clair is suddenly broken off. A thousand rumours are afloat ; but conjec- ture is lost in attempting to account for an event so unexpected, and, we may add, myste- rious. The more than ample fortune in the possession of one, and the expectations of the other, promised all that wealth could bestow. But the long-existing attachment, which grew with its growth, even in a London season, — the highly cultivated talents of the gentleman, — the sweetness, beauty, and mind of the idolized fair one, — gave the promise of happiness which no wealth could purchase. We refrain from giving one of the many on dits : most are founded in ignorance ; not a few in the envy and malice of evil hearts. Nothing more is known than the fact, that the Hon. Herbert Lindsay has left England, and that Miss St. Clair has retired from the gay circles of fashion to the tranquil and lovely scenery of her guardian's estate." It will be our sad task to show how rapidly, how fearfully, disappointment and sorrow can work their ruin. GLENLONELY. 33 CHAP. III. HOW TO GET ON IN THE WORLD. When shall we three meet again ? Shakspeare, How to get on in the world ! — We repeat the heading of the chapter, for it is a question of vital importance in the scramble apt to accom= pany the blessings of peace and plenty. Yet it is a question so easily answered, the *' how " is so obvious, that we wonder it is not seen by all ; in truth, the means are so many that the only difficulty lies in the selection. Amidst the many, living upon our fellow- creatures is particularly easy and agreeable. We have only to rob the living or dead (a petty larceny or sacrilege of little moment to the conscience) ; and, having stolen their ideas, there needs but the skill of a Kitchener to dress c 5 34 GLENLONELY. them to the palate of the day ; or, if this be too much trouble, — if a man will not, like the lamented doctor, earn his bread and write a book " by the sweat of his brow," let him quote word for word, as we have done, — as review- ers and book-makers will continue to do; let him add a piquant garnish of his own foolish brains, as we have not done, and the dish is ready to be served to the hungry public ! But this is not the secret we intended to impart : the reader shall presently hear a much better way of getting on. To say truth, the fear of detection has made us honest, spared our brains, and led to a confession we could not avoid. Doubtless we should have been just as honest as our neighbours, could we have been guilty of stealing privately ; but there is a style so peculiar to the daily journals, — a grace, delicacy, and pathos, — a dark and de- lightful obscurity, which we feel and hope we could never imitate. We will sin no more after this fashion ; for we hate all earthly confessions, including that of love ; one and all are painful. We therefore GLENLONELY. 35 promise neither to steal, nor even, under the cloak of hypocrisy, borrow, from their columns. No ; we like to give the gentleman in black his due; and, since Cobbett is no more, let the devil seize the idle gridiron of that honest and consistent patriot, — let him dress thei'eon such delicious morsels, for the benefit of those who glut their appetite by feasting on the vices and miseries of their fellow-creatures, and for the profit of those who pander to the passions of depraved imagination. At the time when the paragraph we have quoted was passed, like a watch-word, from paper to paper, Herbert Lindsay appeared in the brightest promise of manhood. Upon coming of age he inherited from an uncle the accumulated fortune of a Ions: mi- nority. His manners possessed that ease and grace which mark the gentleman, and may be readily conceived; but in his voice and smile there was a witchery which no words could picture, — no imagination realise. His beauty was of an order so peculiar, that we hope to be forgiven, by our fair readers at least, if c 6 .36 GLENLONELY. we attempt a description more minute than usual. He was the first and an only child: his mother, in fulfilling the hopes of an adoring husband, laid down her own life in giving existence to her son. The infant inherited the delicacy of its mother, and was reared like a plant which the winds would wither and the cold destroy. His constitution, however, stood the ordeal of our varying climate, and seemed to gather strength with the expansion of his intellect. He passed in safety from infancy to boyhood, his health confirmed, though delicate ; bearing in feature and complexion an index of the mind — of that refinement in thought and feel- ing which beamed in every word and action. At Eton he was placed under the care of a private tutor ; and, what is not a little singular, he pursued his course in that world in miniature as he did in after years, when treading the sphere of man, — always distinct, but never alone. His frame was too finely strung to enable GLENLONELY. 37 him to take a leading part in the more active sports of boyhood; but he loved to associate with those who did. His warm and social heart identified itself with all around : he played his part as a part of his fellow-creatures. Slight as he appeared, a few weeks had con- vinced the tyrant that " the gentle Herbert " could resent an insult offered to himself, and fire at the wrongs of others. In either case it was found that courage could lend strength to the weak ; that the blue and almost feminine veins traced upon his lofty brow could swell with anger at the sight of oppression or injus- tice. Attached to all the pursuits of literature, — the elegancies and accomplishments of body and mind — yet blindly devoted to none, he continued to the last equally respected as be- loved, — the pet, yet idol, of the school. We pass his career at Oxford: there needs but to bear in mind the picture of the past, and view it with a lens of higher power. The field was wider ; new beauties were developed. In winning distinction, he, with one fatal excep- tion, gained his honours without losing the affec- 38 GLENLONELY. tion of his rivals : the driest studies, the warm- est arguments, could never destroy the witchery which drew all hearts towards him. We now come to that period of life when he looked to the accomplishment of the only event which could add one iota to his earthly bliss. Such as he then was we will attempt to de- scribe him. In height, Herbert Lindsay exceeded most. His figure was slight, — almost delicate ; yet, had strength been more boldly defined, it would have harmonised less with the expression of features : though slight, it was graceful in the extreme. Had the hand been severed from the wrist, it would have told of a patrician line, and suggested the image of grace which per- vaded the perfect form. His sunny locks, wild as the holyday of youth, laughed at the word " control," and sported with the rays of light. We have used the epithet "sunny;" for, though their shade was of the darkest chesnut, it seemed as if each curl had drunk of the golden orb: one turn of the tapered fingers, and it was dressed vnth more effect than the GLENLONELY. 39 genius of Barber-rossa * had ever accomplished. The classic oval of the face was lit by eyes of such brilliancy that a mother would have trem- bled as she fondly gazed ; so largely did they partake of that soft, yet vivid, transparency, which speaks more of heaven than earth, — pro- claims the fiat of consumption, and leads us to imagine that the dying have drunk of that .purer light to which they are hurrying through the passage of the grave. Their general expres- sion was melancholy; at times, however, wit and humour played around, and bade the shadow fly. Occasionally, but much more rarely, this clear soft light kindled like a flashing fire. The mouth — the speaking mouth — revealed the depth of feeling, thought, and passion ; — ay, when the lips, closely com- pressed, marked firmness and decision, even then the fine and trackless nerves answered to the heart within, and tempered an expression which otherwise had bordered on severity. * The son of Ross of perukian memory. It was this puppy who cautioned a lady not to take the cork from a bottle of " Macassar oil," lest it should make the hair grow under her nails ! ! ! 40 GLENLONELY. Herbert Lindsay needed no mask ; — his thoughts and feelings sprang from a source so pure, so noble, he would have felt it self- degradation to conceal that which he need not blush to express. He had learnt to master those passions which level man with the brute ; and, though he had also been taught the wisdom of curbing the strength of better feelings by the lesson of the heartless world, their force was hidden, but not destroyed ; and, as they warmed beneath their veil, a passing glow was reflected on the cheek : its stay was fleet- ing ; but, to a quick observer, it told of feelings too deep and sacred for the ear of the many. Our sketch is imperfect — we feel it to be so ; but the reader's imagination must fill up the canvas, and complete a picture to which no language could do justice. We hope to be more successful in redeeming our promise : we have pledged ourselves to reveal the philosopher's stone, — to which end we beg to assure the public there is nothing like going back, if we wish to get on. This may sound like a startling hypothesis; but as GLENLONELY. 41 the age insists upon a fraction of instruction with its pennyworth of amusement, we feel bound to make its truth apparent. Nothing so easy. Even truth, the rarest gem on earth, is only rare because people will not take the trouble of looking for it : they remain wilfully blind, — the effort of opening their eyes is too great ; but if others raise the sleepy lid, vision is restored, and truth made palpable. To our task. — Does not your tradesman, when anxious to rise, call his creditors to- gether, and close his shop? For a week or two the shutters continue up ; there is a death- like blank where thousands were wont to glitter. It is but the sleep of a giant : the shop re-opens in greater force than ever; the owner stands higher than he did. Disgrace — psha ! Misfortune can only elevate ; and it must be apparent to the blindest, that when a man collects all that is due to himself and pays nothing to others, it must give him a lift in the world : in other words, he gets on by going back. Let us look a little higher. The ambitious 42 GLENLONELY. banker or merchant is bankrupt ; his carriages are sold ; and " ere those shoes are old " in which he stood in the Court of Commissioners, a more stylish equipage replaces the one which Robins — the greatest and only money-making poet of the age — had knocked down. For a moment the poor man is obscured by a cloud ; the next he re-appears, and rises the bright phoenix of misfortune ! The movement is beautifully simple, and easily managed : hav- ing, in the goodness and wisdom of his heart, made an ample settlement on his wife, he could aflPord to speculate with capital entrusted to his care. If successful, he reaped the harvest; if ruined, he wanted for nothing : the bath of bankruptcy washes away all debts, andT leaves no stain behind. He starts again with clean hands, and gets on, as they say in the Hebrew tongue, " better as snever, " While we still hold open the eyes of our readers, we beg them to look around, and say whether the men " about town," who get on the best, are not persons who have notoriously spent their inheritance, and gone back in the world ? GLENLONELY. 43 Nay, we contend that majesty itself, our most gracious King William, was mistaken when he said to the retiring alderman who poked his foot through his gown, " Never mind, Mr. Alderman Eatables, — devilish awkward that walking backwards ! " The movement, we con- tend, was good, but the workman a bungler, — he knew not the art of backing out ; but we know, and every courtier knows, it is the true way of getting on, as it affords the means of bowing to royalty, and turning our backs upon our friends. It is clear that kindness of heart can mislead even kings. If further proof were wanting of the efficacy of the course we advocate, do not we furnish conviction at this moment? — have we not got on by going back ? Yes ; and we intend to go still further back ere we proceed with our Colonel to the wild retreat of Herbert Lindsay. In the stream of life there are most extraor- dinary currents, w^hich bring together friends, as w^ell as man and wife : events and chances the most undreamt of, not only lay the foundation, but build and cement a union between such as 44 GLENLONELY. appear to hold nothing in common, — beings who differ one from the other utterly and entirely. It is wisely ordained. Selfish though we be, we are not like the beasts of the field ; we are formed to gain strength, like the bundle of twigs, by being united : to produce the har- mony of mutual support there must be a divi- sion of talent and temper, as well as division of labour. These reflections crossed our path as we journeyed back to the birthplace of Colonel Murray, of Herbert Lindsay, and of the ances- tors of Alexander Melville Gordon ; for the last of these, though early transplanted to Scotland, was born in India. No three persons could be more essentially different one from another; and yet circumstances had so completely brought them together — so linked the triumvirate, that, from boyhood to manhood, they sailed the stream of life in one and the same bark, seem- ingly a happy and united crew. But the seeds of division were there ; they were planted by nature : the fruit was certain, GLENLONELY. 45 and the link which bound the three was arti- ficial. When is it otherwise ? How few, if any, who, hand in hand, attain the Stygian shore, undivided by the storms, the passions, and wrecks of later life ! To explain the almost fraternal intimacy of their younger days, we need only mention the juxtaposition of residence, similarity of ages, and the capricious fancy of chance, which or- dained each to be the only son of the three neighbouring families. Of Herbert Lindsay we have spoken at length. We have already related that, at twenty-one years of age, he became possessed of an ample fortune, through his uncle, a relation who died while Lindsay was so young that he could only be remembered from the kindness of his be- quest. This inheritance made him perfectly inde- pendent of his father, Lord Glenlonely ; a man of cultivated mind, but secluded habits : there appeared, indeed, a dark resemblance in the cast which doomed the father and son to the same loneliness of grief. 46 GLENLONELY. The loss of a lovely and beloved wife dashed from the father's hand that cup of earthly bliss which he had but tasted ; — the son, in his turn, had seized the cup, and raised it to his lips, when the blow of a demon paralysed his grasp, and the honied nectar fell, untasted, to the earth. In both there was wanting that elasticity of mind which enables most to rally with returning years ; both had the ample means of indulging the tone of feeling which one deep affliction had created ; — each had unwisely staked his happiness on one throw, and each had lost. But it must not be supposed that in either case the wants and happiness of others were forgotten in the sorrows of their own hearts. The influence of their kindly feelings was ex- tended for miles around them ; — rarely seen, secluded as it were in the centre of the sphere wherein they dwelt. The poor and wretched drank of a stream whose source was hidden, though known ; the wounded awoke, and saw the flask of oil, but not the hand which placed it by the couch. The good Samaritan had been GLENLONELY. 47 abroad — a hand unseen had scattered money for the needy, and balm for the widow : the fatherless were fed, the wicked warned, the good rewarded. It seemed as if some blessed spirit wandered in the silence of night, — heard the prayers which rose to heaven, and caught the tears which fell to earth. Whether Lord Glenlonely really walked in his sleep, or dispensed his benefits through the medium of others, we leave to the decision of our readers ; neither can we pause to argue the merits or demerits of this eccentricity of good, which, of course, the world pronounced to be madness, because it differed from the ways of the many. We shall never get on, as we hope to do, in our retrograde movement, if we do more than state facts, to prove, at least, that the gi'ief which led to the seclusion of body by no means imprisoned the mind, — its footsteps might be widely tracked by the blessings which followed. There was, indeed, one exception to the general resemblance between the fate of father 48 GLENLONELY. and son : the former was not absolutely solitary, — he had one companion, who was to him as a ministering angel ; one to whom he could breathe the sacred sorrows of his heart, and raise the dark veil of past events with the cer- tainty of sympathy. Need we add, that that one was woman? — a being young, lovely, and . But back we must return to our Colonel. George Murray was the only son of General Murray, the representative of a line of war- riors and Highland chieftains. The civilisation of Scotland v/as a sad per- plexity to this warlike race — gifted as they were with second sight. Messrs. Gall and Spurzheim had never crossed their " dim ob- scure : " they rarely felt their heads, unless it were to close the wound inflicted by a battle- axe ; but they felt the effect, though they knew not the cause. Fight they must — though they never dreamt that the necessity sprung from a bump upon the skull ! The earliest history of the clan was but a continued chronicle of feuds and warfare — GLENLONELY. 49 of Slaughter on a grand, or dirking on a petty scale — of burning — drowning — or starving their fellow-creatures, their countrymen — and this for centuries ! No wonder that the organ of pugnacity was handed down by the heads of the family; no wonder it was superemi- nently developed, and became, in the end, a very peg whereon to hang a helmet. But, alas ! no pleasures are doomed to last, and the inroads of civilisation greatly inter- fered with the pastime of innocent murder ! The grandfather of our Colonel, with the shrewdness of a Scotchman, foresaw the me- lancholy turn of coming events; and, seeing that his son would be unequal to stem the tide, he launched him on it, by procuring his com- mission in the English army. He himself — whom for distinction-sake we will call Crab of ^lac Crab — held till his latest breath a dotrored determination to su- premacy ; as the head of his clan, he insisted upon the homage of his clansmen, and belie ve4 that he had the power of life and death on all. Fortunately for himself and those around him, VOL. I. D 60 GLENLONELY. lie was content with this imagined right of absolute tyranny ; he was a kind protector to all who owned his sway, but bitter enemy to those who dared to question his title. One little anecdote is on record, which may serve to show the demi-barbarous notions of the worthy chieftain. Crab of Mac Crab, vigorous in muscle though advanced in years, was persuaded to journey to Edinburgh, and be present at a meeting of the most celebrated masters of the bag-pipe ; he was accompanied by his own piper, Sawney Mac Crabbison, a man who ranked amongst the first in the noble art of Scottish minstrelsy. The attendance was numerous, and Crab of Mac Crab was in the Highlander's second heaven, as he stood by the side of Sawney, and listened to his more than wonted inspir- ation. There is certainly no accounting for taste, but a young Saxon who was present considered the sounds as any thing but hea- venly ; — instigated by the demon of practical jokes, he quietly opened his penknife, and GLENLONELY. 51 inserted the blade into the piper's bellows — there was a rush of winds — the golden goose had been ripped open, and the richness of melody died in the act. To picture the wrath of Mac Crab would be vain ; his eagle eye had detected the offender, and words were idle in attempting to describe his glance of fire : his actions were more simple; and if, for a mo- ment, the fire of the eye was transferred to the glittering steel, it was instantly quenched in the blood of the Saxon. With a nice perception of justice, he exer- cised the lex talionis by striking, to the best of his anatomical skill, at the lungs, having, he argued, as much right to let the breath out of the body, as the body had to let the wind out of his piper's bag. Luckily for the chieftain's neck, his know- ledge of anatomy was slight, — less, indeed, than might have been expected, considering the number of subjects he had practised upon. The blow was struck somewhat lower than the lowest rib, in that region of the body which most resembled the injured bag, thinking, no D 2 UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS LIBRARY 52 GLENLONELY. doubt, by a species of comparative anatomy, tliat therein dwelt the breath of man. In consequence of this jumble of science, the wound was less mortal than intended. Nature does much for the living, and the Saxon's skin was shortly repaired ; but, alas ! neither art nor nature could repair the piper's bag. This circumstance often preyed upon the mind of Mac Crab. He never for an instant doubted the propriety of resenting the insult as he had done ; but the Saxon's skin being whole, and his bag not, he had occasional doubts whether he was not bound in honour to strike a second blow. This venerable child of the Highlands was nursed by their mountain dew to an extreme old age; his daily quantity of nourishment w^e dare not say, lest our veracity should be questioned on other points. He died, as he lived, with all his honours thick upon him. The full costume of his clan was cherished to the last ; and, having attained to the verge of a century, he quietly sank GLENLONELY. 53 into the sleep of death in his favourite arm- chair. This event was natural ; but there was another which, to the minds of his followers, was quite unaccountable : his bottle of whisky was only half empty ! His son, the father of our Colonel, ran a shorter, but more brilliant career. Distin- guished and successful in the campaigns of India, he was rewarded by the rank of General, and returned to England in time to accompany Sir John Moore to Portugal. The last scene of that tragic act is knowTi to all, and General Murray was one amidst the many victims of Corunna. He fell by the side of the gallant Moore, and, like him, found a grave where he fell, and was laid "With his martial cloak around him." Of the Colonel, we need add but little more by way of introduction. We have said that he served under Wellington until the wearisome days of general peace. That reader must be D 3 54 GLENLONELY. dull indeed who does not conceive the feelings of Colonel Murray after the battle of Waterloo. He was a Highlander in heart ; and from that heart was taken a deep and rankling thirst ; — his father's death had been atoned ! WTiat a thing of passions — of pure and spotted pages — is the human heart ! The man who thus fostered the spirit of revenge, who noted the debt in one dark page, and blotted it out in the blood of thousands ■ — the same gave to his wi- dowed mother the lands of his inheritance, and left to his parent and sisters the shelter and protection of a home. It is true that the family estate had decreased from its original size : the regal hospitality of the Colonel's grandfather vastly exceeded his revenue, an evil which increased in proportion to the length of his reign. He died a poor man, a truth which no one dared to point at until his death. Enough, however, remained to give the necessary addition to the Colonel's pay, and supply the wants and comforts of life to the widow and her daughters. We have now to sketch a being of another GLEXLONELY. 55 order : the task will be more difficult and less pleasing. Herbert Lindsay and Colonel George INIurray were born in the same year. Their first breath was borrowed from the mountain air, and their earliest steps were amidst the stern beauties of the land of their sires. Alexander Melville Gordon, as we have intimated, was ushered into life amidst the pomps and luxuries of an eastern court. Early in life his father had received a civil appoint- ment, and quitted Scotland to pursue his fortune in the then unexhausted soil of India. Consi- derable talent and unwearied application shortly realised his golden dreams, and placed him high in favour with the Governor- General. There seemed but one thinoj wanting : the means of happiness are not the enjoyment; we need some one to share in the joys of harvest: — but the wily civilian knew the strength of his position, and was fastidious in the choice of that one being. Many a fair slave sold in the mar- riage market of India turned from the trembling vows of skin-dried age, and sighed for a pur- D 4 56 GLENLONELY. chaser in the young, the rich, and honoured Mr. Gordon ; but importations came and passed away before the prize was won. At length — these things are surely fated — the destined freight arrived. A pair of eyes, dark as night, and brighter than the stars which light it, pierced the Gordon's shield, and made him prisoner. Scotchmen are not apt to surrender at dis- cretion : he struggled hard against the first assault ; he rallied the powers of habitual caution — but in vain — the black eyes were much too powerfully supported. Ann Sybella Stuart had youth — which in India is a host; she was not quite eighteen, and with this, a figure tall, commanding, and perfectly formed; her dark eye-brows sat like a crown of majesty above features, marked, but classically fine — she seemed born to rule — and amidst the almost voluptuous fulness of her rosy lips there lurked a curl of proud contempt, a look which could repulse as powerfully as her smile could charm. A quickness and brilliancy of talent hid the GLENLONELY. 57 defect of an imperfect education. One base object had been early displayed to dazzle and degrade; — the wealthy Nabob — the man- Mam- mon — was the spm* to all that was taught. With this view the person was cultivated, and the mind neglected; but the charms of the former are palpable — they act as a dazzling veil to cover the weeds or wilderness which may deface tlie latter. Then, again, this Ann Sybella Stuart was highly, if distantly, connected. Cousins she had without end, whom she vvas proud to re- member, though many had forgotten her. Amongst the titled, there were a few who con- descended to recollect and wish her well ; nay, even one noble duke was so anxious to start his fair cousin, that he actually gave a ten pound note to swell the stock of " cutty sarks" necessary for the length of voyage. But there was another ally of greater weight in the eyes of the civilian. This was a letter from one of his Majesty's Ministers to the Governor-General and his lady, praying their marked attention in behalf of his cousin. The writer had heard D 5 58 GLENLONELY. of the Duke's generosity, but thinking letter paper cheaper than that of the Bank of Eng- land, he filled up one sheet, which — as he doubtless intended — proved of much more value than les chemises de voyage of his Grace. There is no act which ought to be so decidedly and exclusively a man's own as the choice of a wife. He alone is blessed or cursed by the result; yet in no one act is man more easily or blindly swayed by the opinion of others. Men make wives of actresses or dancers because they are admired by thousands. The monarch's smile, his notice for the evening, of some fair beauty, has decided many a wavering lover. Did we not believe that marriages were pre-or- dained, we should say that man's judgment was weakest where it should be strongest — most influenced by others where it should de- pend upon itself alone. Gordon had amassed a fortune ; he had little to wish in the way of promotion: but Ann Sybella Stuart, as the favoured protegee at Court, shone with reflected honours : to make her his wife would be to win these honours to himself: — so GLEXLONELY. 59 at least he argued, to strengthen the bias of his inclination, and blind to defects which less fa- voured lovers had discovered. He proposed, — was accepted ; signed with impatience a folio of parchment, and the pretty name of Ann Sybella Stuart was merged in that of Gordon. In attempting the description of the mother of Alexander Melville Gordon, we have said that she seemed like a being formed to rule. Within a few months from the wedding day, her husband was a competent witness on this point — he and his purse were ruled unmercifully. But the ambition of this proud beauty was too bounding to be stopped by the monosyllable — home : she aimed at the admiration of all, except her husband ; having married for wealth, and exacted her price, she despised all other offerings from the ill-fated purchaser. Women, like merchandize, rise in value in proportion to their scarcity. In India the market is always ill supplied, and there they are wor- shipped with a zeal unknown in other lands. No wonder, then, that the beautiful Gordon obtained the empire she sought. With wit and D 6 60 GLENLONELY. tact which never failed — a smile of magic power, and eyes which dazzled the wisest, and warmed the coldest — she was irresistible. The rebel army fell from their allegiance and obeyed her will and beck ; her health was drunk before the King's. He might be their head, but she was their head and soul too. This was an easy conquest: the soldier's pay gave him no chance in the scramble for wives. Gentlemen on the civil list, the planters and dealers in indigo, monopolised these house- hold ornaments, leaving the army the only al- ternative of devoted homage to the wives of the wealthy. The spirit of rebellion spread — husbands joined in the look of admiration ; and some evil tongues declared that the Governor himself paid to the fair Gordon a more marked attention than he did to his Majesty's affairs. Woe to the woman who dares to be singular ! — who thinks, because she has talent and at- traction above her fellows, she is placed above the ties and decorums of the world. The pas- sions of all, in different degrees, are the same; GLENLONELY. 61 the fire may be dormant and subdued, but there it is ; — remove the sentinel, and who shall say how soon, how suddenly, it may kindle? The springs w^hich act upon the heart are infinite and capricious as the links of thought ; — the mourner's tear — the laughing smile — the grave or banquet — the cold and silent moon — the warmth and language of the setting sun, — each, at its fitting time, can reach the wayward heart. The train is always laid — the spark is latent in the coldest flint ; and who can predict the lightning's path ? — and who of womankind be always safe if she defy opinion and the show of virtue ? We know not, we think not, that Ann Sy- bella Gordon was guilty in the last degree ; — we believe that her heart was cold w^hen her eyes were flashing fire ; and this, we trust, pre- served her. But, scorning the restraints of woman, her words and actions gave to her vanquished rivals the torch of scandal. Women are always the first to condemn their own sex : in this instance they were readily assisted by the revenge of humbled coxcombs — men who 62 GLENLONELY. spread the dark reports for which they, at least, knew there was no foundation. That she was ungrateful we allow — most ungrateful to Nature, who had been so bounti- ful to her. She drank of the cup of flattery — the homage of man — the excitement of society, — till they became the food whereon she fed; and when the same Nature ordained that she should become a mother, she felt aggrieved by the ne- cessity of retiring from the glories of her world. During this temporary eclipse she gave birth to her first-born — a feeble and delicate daughter. Most mothers conceive a double affection for the child that is sickly or deformed ; — it is the appeal of helplessness which looks for sym- pathy where alone it can be hoped for. Mrs. Gordon aimed at singularity, and formed an exception to the general rule — she utterly neglected her daughter. Either the poor inno- cent was not forgiven for interrupting her career of pleasure, or there was the germ of deadlier feeling. Young as Mrs. Gordon was, nothing had escaped her observation : she had remarked the GLENLONELY. 63 painful rivalship between young mammas and their daughters; she foresaw the diflSculty of confining to the nursery a bouncing girl of seventeen. " But," whispered some demon in her ear, " if it should please Heaven to take the sufferer, what misery might be spared ! " Some six weeks after the birth of her first- born, as the mother returned to her home, wearied with the late pleasures of the dance, she remarked a mournful anxiety in the attend- ants who received her. Upon inquiry, she heard that her child was dead. " Sweet inno- cent ! " she exclaimed, for the first time ; and, having retired to her couch, her sleep was more than usually sound. A somewhat premature birth of a second daughter was attended with similar, though quicker, result. We have reason to believe that it was on this occasion a poet of the East wrote that terse and simple epigram, " What were we begun for, To be so soon clone for ! ! " In the fourth year of her marriage there was 64 GLENLONELY. a change for the better ; — the birth of a son appeared to wake the source of maternal feeling : either this, or little Master Alexander Melville Gordon was born under auspices of a brighter star than his sisters. His mother might have deemed her empire waning — have sickened from satiety — -have found, too late, the latent fire in the ice of her proud heart. The combinations of fortune are unfathomable to human eye. Whatever the cause, Mrs. Gordon devoted her- self to the wants of her boy ; and, to atone for the past, contrived to spoil him in every pos- sible way. We are really distressed, for the reader's sake, that he did not come into the world before his two sisters. We hate to be tedious : and, while relating the truth, we have more than once wished he had been an enfant trouve, — one of those orphans of the world who have none to bless for existence save the Creator of all things; but having, most provokingly, both a father and mother of this world, we feh bound in honour to state his origin. One consolation remains : — in painting the evil GLENLONELY. 65 passions of the mother, we may have shown how the sins of the parent are perpetuated in the offspring ; how the weakness of the mother, who gratifies, without control, the wishes of the child, fosters the seeds of future misery in the man. Poor Mr. Gordon, the wealthy civilian, had become a cipher ; his wife stood first, and was the figure which made the sum-total in his house. Death, however, unexpected and sudden, turned the balance in the husband's favour, and hurried the wife to her last account. Mrs. Gordon had given one of her wild parties, to celebrate the anniversary of her son. Flushed with joy and champagne, she lingered on the lovely spot she had selected ; and, fearless of those exhalations which rise at sunset, she mounted the curricle of the handsome Colonel Anson, playfully snatched the reins from his hands, and drove to her home. Within eight-and-forty hours she was a corpse. Attacked by fever, fierce as the rays 66 GLENLONELY. which gave it birth — her skin was parched — the brain was fired — and in the agonies of raving madness she expired. This event leads us directly to the being whom we have promised to describe. Master Gordon quickly perceived the loss he had sus- tained ; a father's authority was assumed, and, it might be, with more sternness and rapidity than was wise. The spoiled and pampered pet was imme- diately treated with severity, which bordered upon cruelty ; the result was a cordial hatred of his father, with a dogged opposition to his will. Having pursued the experiment for two years, Mr. Gordon was finally convinced of his error. His countryman and friend. Ge- neral Murray, had been ordered to England, and, availing himself of this opportunity, he placed his son under the guardianship of the General. Mr. Gordon had, from time to time, re- mitted portions of his wealth, and purchased an estate adjoining the Murrays'. It in- cluded a portion of land, which by tradition GLENLONELY. 67 had belonged to his family : hereupon was raised a domicile worthy of future generations of Gordons. Unfortunately, the architect pos- sessed more pride than taste ; and having constructed a square turreted house, with a pepper-box at each angle, the fabric was styled Calender Castle ; — a name which raised many a joke at the expense of the owner. Mr. Gordon was a descendant of the Mac Mountain clan, which in the year ~ was suppressed, and the very name forbidden. A name, however, is essential for all things, and the Messieurs Mac Mountain adopted such as suited their fancy or interest. Mr. Gordon was not quite the lineal descendant of their chieftain — but he was near enough to think he might claim to be the head of the nameless — and, in consideration of his wealth and knighthood, be styled Sir John Mac Mountain Gordon. The same vanity which led to this assump- tion had decided in favour of the handsome protegee as wife ; but the present consequences were less fatal to his happiness. It was soon 68 GLENLONELY. found out, that if not the true laird, he was a kind one. He still retained a smattering of Erse, which in boyhood he had spoken : this had great weight with his tenantry ; and if the architect had not selected the blue stone of the country, we doubt whether they would have thought of converting Calender Castle into Indigo Hall. This, however, was a harm- less joke, more especially as it never reached the ears of Mac Mountain. We cannot in conscience dispose of the chieftain so rapidly as we did of his wife ; but, having lodged him in his castle, we must pro- ceed, as we promised, by going back to the hopeful son. The kindness of General Murray placed the young Gordon under his own roof, and allowed him to share the benefits of his son's tutor. In the absence of the General, the gentle firmness of Mrs. Murray had more weight than the stern severity of his father; the boy became more tractable, and the outpourings of passion, terrific though in miniature, be- came less and less frequent. The comparative GLENLONELY. 69 solitude in which he lived, — the solemn wild- ness of the Highlands — engendered thought. His playfellows, Herbert Lindsay and George Murray, each one year younger than himself, were his superiors in knowledge and the sports of a young mountaineer. Stung with shame, hatred and jealousy were nursed, but not be- trayed ; he had time to reason on the weakness of violence — he exerted his latent powers, and hoped in silence for the pleasure of re- venge — by outstripping his rivals. No error is more fatal than to deem as nothing the passions of infancy, because their effect is trivial ; or that, because our sheer force is so comparatively gigantic, we can crush the little hydra, or scarcely feel its venom. It is difficult to say how early the evil of our nature is not apparent ; or how early the perception of right and wrong may not be in- stilled. Many a little brother would throttle, if he could, his infant sister, — the intruder who dared to divide his mother's affection. We are too apt to smile at the attempt — yet what is this but the murderer in miniature? 70 GLENLONELY. What is the cruelty of children to animals — the selfish enjoyment of their sweets — their combat for a toy, — what are these but the assassin — the tyrant — the miser and heart- less — the slaughterer of thousands for a bubble or a crown, — what are they all but the miniature of the worst and deadliest crimes which stain the annals of man himself ? Forgive the digression : in touching upon the boyhood of Gordon, we would not be thought to exaggerate, and we feel convinced that we have not done so. We are prone, in our vast superiority, to overlook the depth of feeling and thought in children. Man becomes a being of habit and imitation. In after life few think for them- selves : children do ; and consequently there is often a depth and originality in their ideas which startle the aged : questions are put, which, with all our wisdom, we have learnt to parry and not to answer. The three boys, — Lindsay, Murray, and Gordon, — were so drawn together by simi- larity of age, that they could not be otherwise GLEXLONELY. 71 than intimate. The two former had ever been inseparable ; the latter received a Highland welcome when he arrived, and was admitted at once to their pleasures and their studies. By degrees he became almost, if not quite, a favourite. If at times he w^as moody and reserved, — if his beautiful features were dis- torted by the Avorkings of passion, they shortly regained their brighter cast, — the record of evil was effaced. He inherited the magic of his mother's smile. With Murray's sisters he was decidedly a favourite. Though the spirit of rivalship had led him to join and excel in the sports of boy- hood, the land of the East had breathed a language, — an Italian dole e far niente in his soul — which fitted him for woman's love. ISIanv a day, when Lindsay and Murray were abroad with their gun or rods, Gordon was the slave — the doer of sweet nothings — the favoured companion of the three sisters and the lovelier protegee of Lord Glenlonely. At Eton the intimacy of the boys was rather strengthened than weakened. Entered at the 72 GLENLONELY. same time — placed in the same remove — cir- cumstances still combined to make them friends. Herbert Lindsay resided with his private tutor, Mr. Majendie, a gentleman as well as scholar; one who, having seen much of the world, and being himself an Etonian, knew perfectly how to blend relaxation with instruction. If young Gordon became more reserved, or more frequently wandered by himself, he always remembered the comforts and ad- vantages to be found at a private tutor's. The hour of breakfast was not forgotten ; or if some passage required explanation, he knew where it would be kindly given, and Mr. Majendie received his visit. In the course of time Lindsay and Murray, though still inseparable, increased their list of friends ; and, guided by the judgment and penetration of Lindsay's tutor, laid the founda- tion of a valuable connection in after life. Gordon, of course, had the same advantage ; but he made no friends, or, rather, the friends he made he shortly flung aside, as he would a GLENLONELY. 73 book which he had read. In case of need they were referred to : their value was re- corded in the head, but they found no place in his heart. He probably sought, but in vain, for a spirit congenial to his own. In the dark workings of his mind, he strove to penetrate the feelings of others, — to analyse the motives of their actions. He thirsted for the knowledge of the human heart, and mastered languages to obtain it. He searched the annals of the dead, for he found none like himself amongst the living. He drank in the pages which told how the genius of one ruled the destiny of millions; — how results became possible by scorning the timid glance of the world, which dared not look upon the means. He felt a hatred and contempt of his fellows ; but he knew not why. He wondered at their happiness and bright content; for he felt them not. As all are prone to do in studying others, he looked not within himself: there was the poison hidden, and it met no antidote. Hours and hours were devoted to chemistry VOL. 1. E 74 GLENLONELY. — he read — he felt it was yet a science in its infancy ; he saw it was the lock which closed the mysteries of nature, and he sought for the key which should open its dark and hidden depths — he beheld a law, unvarying and im- mutable for all things — that in itself, nothing was chance ; that the combinations and changes of to-day must be to-morrow ; that the same, in like cases, always occurred. He read but harmony in the thunders of the cloud, in the lightning bursting from its womb — he saw there was a path for the bounding of the forked light, marked — ordained — before cre- ation ; the powers of attraction and repul- sion had been balanced and prescribed ; its steps were certain as those of the gentle moon or fiery comet. Undazzled and daring as the magicians of old, he looked upon the electric stream, and said in his heart, " Thy course shall be tracked ! " In fancy, he had proved its existence in us and all around us; had traced its mystic flowing through the veins of the trembling needle — in the blood of man — the quiver- GLENLONELY. 75 ing nerves, and the down upon the cheek — in the living and the dead — the dead ! — and that one word was volumes of thought for the mind of Gordon : the doom of de- cay and corruption — the never-ceasing work of destruction — the gentlest in creation prey- ing upon creation — life wonderfully made, yet formed to be destroyed ! These are the regions of thought, where the young require the wisdom of age : they trespass on the brink of utter darkness, where all who wander perish. No wonder that Gordon, too proud to lean upon a guide, was lost in error ; that he questioned the Deity, and doubted eternity. His jubilee was night, his spirits bounded on the shadow of darkness and flew to the countless worlds, " the beautiful lamps of hea- ven :" he laughed to scorn the vanity of man who gives his name to a star — one amidst infinity beyond ; but is the weakness of others wisdom to ourselves? He scorned the proud astronomer, he looked down upon him, but could see no further ; he imaged that dis- E 2 76 GLENLONELY. tant world which bore his name, and, dwelling there, again he looked on worlds innumerable ; — but he knew not that it was so, — for who can image the depth of immeasurable space? He saw much, but dimly — he felt that know- ledge was power, but paused not to reflect, that both are dangerous when applied in ignorance. No wonder that he looked upon life as the struggle for self, and nearly blew up his tutor's house in the course of his experiments. We grant that this intensity of thought is unusual in boyhood, but are certain that we have painted rather below than above the truth. We have watched the young Gordon in his sports, and noticed his moments of ab- straction ; we have known him return to his home and pass the hour of dinner in penning the unearthly wanderings of his muse. One quotation might avail more than all we have written, but, mixed with the beauties of wild sublimity, there is a daring imagery, a subtilty of theory and vision, which prevent us from making them known. GLENLONELY. 77 The reader must be content to doubt or believe our word, and doubtless he will be- lieve us, when we add that Gordon found no kindred soul amongst his companions. With Lindsay and Mm-ray there was still the link of circumstances — with those under his own roof there was still the power to sway and charm when he chose. With the mass he had nothing in common : they could not enter into his spirit, nor he into theirs ; they deemed him mad, and he despised them as foo's ; they were at enmity with each other. Singly they dared not insult him, for there was a method in his madness which taught repentance; but the herd unite against the stricken, and men, like brutes, envy the strongest, and trample on the weak. There might have been some kindly yearn- ings in the breast of Gordon, seeds of humanity, choked but not dead ; warmed by the kindness of his fellows, they might have been called to light ; but, conscious of his own superiority, stung by the injus- tice of imputed madness, by the cruelty, if E 3 78 GLENLONELY. he were mad, of taunting the afflicted, his rage was boundless. Like Tasso's gaoler, they all but raised the demon which they said was in him. We have seen him sur- rounded — hooted — baited like a maddened bull; we have heard the deep agony of that tortured beast, rising, as it seemed, from beneath the bloody sod; but never did we hear a sound so piercing, so awful and unearthly, as the shriek of Gordon in the paroxysm of revengeful anger. This did not occur often; the elder boys united to prevent such heartless attacks ; Lind- say and Murray were at his side. Gordon himself, if cowardly by nature — if want- ing in chivalry — became bold in the spirit of reasoning ; he singled out the ring- leader, a boy bigger than himself, and having conquered one, he awed the rest, and was molested no more. But the past he never forgave : — the kindly seeds withered in his breast, and left but the deadly weeds of hatred. To the two friends of his home, an excep- tion might have continued, but for an act GLENLONELY. 79 of injustice on the part of the head master — we were going to say, of the great tyrant of the school, but he was rather weak than tyrannical. A weak monarch can do more mischief than a clever tyrant. Dr. Josslym was a courtier, and his sphere should have been St. James's ; — as chamberlain to the Queen, as groom of the bedchamber, he would have been perfection ; as the head master of Eton he betrayed his fallibility. Though not dis- tinguished as a scholar, he could go through his part with credit to himself and profit to his pupils; but, in such a station, more, much more, is wanting than mere learning ; — knowledge of the world, firmness of charac- ter, and the strictest impartiality. These are amongst the number, and here the worthy Doctor was wanting. His knowledge of the world was confined to one view, his own promo- tion : in case of tumult or rebellion, tears were the poor substitute for firmness ; and on all occasions he betrayed his worship of a titled E 4 80 GLENLONELY. name — he flogged the commoner, and kissed the hem of a duke. We have mentioned that Gordon, Lindsay, and Murray arrived at Eton together; their reading had been similar, their ages were nearly equal, and they vv^ere naturally placed in the same part of the school. Gordon, how- ever, being the eldest by one year, was first upon the list. In the course of time the usual trials and promotions were about to take place. Pre- viously to this, Lindsay's tutor, anxious for the honours of his pupil, waited upon the learned Doctor, and ventured to say that he thought Lindsay had been placed lower than his merits deserved. It probably was so ; and if it were the case wdth Lindsay, it certainly vras also with Gordon. Mr. Majendie was too honour- able to omit his name, — his case was pleaded with that of his pupil. The trials came on : the spur of ambition roused the energies of Gordon: his element was poetry ; to this and all proposed he gave the touch of genius ; and though his labours were GLENLONELY. 81 finished, while many a boy was " scratching his head" for a thought, his papers won the words of highest praise. Lindsay was equally successful in the ap- pendix given to his efforts ; but to the Hon. Herbert Lindsay were added a smirk and a smile, some pleasant words and empty witticism, which, of course, were applauded by the anxious candidates who hailed the Doctor's smile as a happy omen, and forced a respectful laugh at the joke they could not read. A few days decided the fate of all; Gordon was promoted to the first in his form ; the Hon. Herbert was raised from that to the one above, or, in the language of college, he gained the honour of a double remove. Gordon was stung to the quick ; he felt that he was wronged, and knew there was no appeal ; he despised his master, and hated his rival ; the principle of utter selfishness in all was fixed : he retreated within himself, and in that dark barrier swore to be revenged — that he never would forgive. The sequel of these pages will show how far his E 5 8*2 Gl^ENLONELY. VOW was accomplished towards the innocent and amiable Lindsay. Ere we pass to Oxford, we may here state, that the hour of retribution fell upon the Doctor, in spite of his wig and tri- cornered hat. Where there is no appeal there is apt to be conspiracy. Gordon watched his opportunity ; he collected the embers of discontent, and fostered a flame ; the Lilliputians were in arms, in open rebellion against their giant ruler, and Gordon was their leader ! Each succeeding day widened the breach, and rendered the Doctor's position more perilous. Wavering and weak, he threatened, but had not the courage to execute ; wanting the firmness of man, he turned to woman's weapon, and wept abundantly — yes — with flowing tears he appealed to Gordon, implored his influence, and promised forgiveness. Had not the Doctor's eyes been swimming in tears, he must have seen the laughing sneer which was Gordon's only answer; none who saw it, could forget it. Gordon's triumph was complete ; turning to his brethren in arms, he GLENLONELY. 83 made them the organs of peace ; for himself he despised his enemy too bitterly to hold com- munion with the vanquished. Shortly after this the hour arrived for bid- ding farewell to Eton and her weak, but kind- hearted, chief. There is a mean and degrading practice of putting a fee into the master's hand as he gives the parting squeeze of affection. A five, ten, or twenty pound note is presented, according to the means, inclination, or memento of floggings received; the amount is optional. Gordon gladly seized this opportunity of evinc- ing his respect ; and having deposited the looked for bequest, he once more repeated his laughing bitter sneer, and said — " Adieu ! " This time the Doctor saw it, and the budding joke withered on his tongue. When Gordon's back was turned he opened the soft envelope, and found — a farthing I Previously to this Murray had left the cradle of classic lore, and entered the school of iron warfare : the parting from Lindsay was a heavy trial. Misery is comparative as well as happi- ness, and this was their first young grief — they E 6 84 GLENLONELY. had never been separated — they were more than brothers to each other, for the affections are strongest when free ; being born of the same mother forms a moral necessity of peace, but not of the bond of love. If, however, they were inconsolable for a time, their future meet- ings were doubly valued. Neither vras the parting from Gordon free from pain; they had never quarrelled : if his theories, wild and daring, sometimes horrified the calmer reason of the intended warrior, their bold spirit of enterprise was a feeling in common ; they were dwellers in the same land ; the force and link of habit had made them as brothers ; as yet the tie remained. To continue the career of Gordon to the period of quitting Oxford, we have only to add, that the same principle of self — the same unflinching determination — the same thirst- in or for knowledoje — ojuided his conduct and pursuits. By a singular coincidence he was once more opposed to Lindsay in the struggle for honours, and a second time Lindsay's name GLENLONELY. 85 was first; not from injustice this time, but rather from the bigotry of our mother Uni- versity. Dear good old soul ! a kind and fostering mother she has been, infusing the stream of piety and learning when darkness and famine were around ; — she has fattened upon her own milk, — her children have rewarded her with riches and honours. Pampered and proud in her old age, she closes her eyes to the changes in the world ; she will not see that the children of this day will neither be swaddled nor bound as of old — that they will have the free use of their faculties and limbs ; there is a march of intellect which nothing can oppose : the term may be hackneyed and laughed at; but it is a powerful expression oi the truth; and our universities and public schools are beginning to feel, and shortly must be convinced of, the necessity of change. They must enlarge their views, open their sleepy eyes, and reform the defects of education : do this, and they will be what they have been — the fountains of light : do it not, and the spirit of the day will reverse 86 GLENLONELY. their doom — they will be darkness in the midst of light. Lindsay, docile and gentle by nature, pur- sued the track which was pointed out. His elegance of thought and powers of language, nay, the very sw^eetness of his tone, added force as well as charm to all he uttered : he loaded with flowers the fruit that was set before him, adding beauty to its worth. Gordon, on the contrary, wandered boldly from the beaten track ; he took nothing for granted; he lived with the living as well as with the dead. The best of the century past might be the worst of the present ; — the best in his native tongue might be surpassed in another. There was no longer one common garb for the thoughts of all men ; the Roman's voice was no longer universal ; nations spoke in a language of their own, and planted the tree of knowledge in their native soil. The restless spirit of Gordon traversed the globe, and gathered of the fruit : it might be good, but it was not orthodox; it might not enter the scale of the examiner, for he knew it not, — he had GLENLONELY. 87 not dared to taste thereof; and it might be poison; for a certainty it was not orthodox. It was flung aside; and Gordon, with all his wealth of sciences and knowledge, was declared second to his rival Lindsay. Thus was the feeling planted by injustice, watered by bigotry, and the vow of vengeance confirmed in its growth. As he looked upon his judges he foresaw his fate ; for one moment the mask of beauty fell from his features, and he looked the demon — the next he was calm. In his worship of self, his thirst for sway, he had learnt the power of self-command ; the random spark which had nearly destroyed his life and his tutor*s house had taught this worldly wisdom. Passions, like the powers of chemistry, must be under con- trol, if we hope to direct their force. The problem with which we started has, we think, been proved : we must, however, add to the length of our proof, and give a short de- scription of Alexander Melville Gordon at this period of life. He inherited the beauty of his mother : the 68 GLENLONELY* outline of his features was the same, but cast in the mould of man. His figure was tallj slight, but powerful ; colour he had none, but the clear olive of the East scarcely veiled the blue veins upon his brow ; though the rose was w^anting, circulation was not ; we have seen the throbbing vessels fill, and marked the nos- trils spread, showing the ruby blood like the breathless racer; but this was in moments of un- governable passion — the outpourings of youth: as he advanced in years, calmness and self- possession w^ere the general expression. In the beauty of the eyes he even surpassed his mother; if he had caught the complexion of the East, there also he stole the diamond of the eye ; — full, large, and black as the raven of his locks, yet softened by the silken lashes, they seemed to win the gaze of others, like the serpent's magic. The word is apt : there was similitude in other points than this. As usual, when the eye is prominent, his vision was somewhat de- fective : owing to this, he had acquired the habit of slightly stooping in directing his attention, and raising his form when satisfied. His en- GLENLONELY. 89 trance to a room was the serpent personified. The image, though true, may not be famihar, as it is not every one who has had the honour of a serpent's visit. They who have — in India there are many — must remember the graceful windings of the noiseless reptile — the pause at the threshold — the raising its form to the ut- most — the glance around, which seems to sail upon the air, — all these were Gordon's ; the grace and gliding of his silent step — a mo- mentary pause — the calm, yet piercing, eye — the form erect, — he seemed the very serpent. 90 GLENLONELY. CHAP. IV. OUR COMMON LOT. It is not in the chance of human things. Who stakes his all must lose. Thou doating tool ! To think that Destiny can change its rule ! Does not the granite crumble into dust ? The oak decay ? the iron turn to rust ? Death and destruction is the doom on earth ; In heaven alone eternity has birth. A. Bird. Our task is finished — we have painted the evil one, and now our fingers feel as light as if we had cast an iron gauntlet aside — as light and lighter than our spirits ; — how we could dash along ! Don't be frightened, gen- tle reader, we promise to be merciful ; we will avoid the railroad of writing, lest the pace make you blind to our beauties. If the intended marriage between Herbert Lindsay and the lovely Emily St. Clair formed GLENLONELY. 91 the theme of many an idle chit-chat, the sud- den rupture was a still richer fund to draw upon. It was a mine of on dits, — dark, myste- rious, and inexhaustible, — for more than even seven days. In the first place, the birth, pa- rentage, and history of Emily St. Clair were a blank to the busy world ; but such a blank became a prize in the hands of the ignorant. Ignorant, did we say? the world is never ig- norant, for where it knows not the truth it invents twenty thousand facts, which beggar truth itself, and leave it at a distance. Emily St. Clair was received into the family of Lord Glenlonely shortly after his marriage. She was then scarcely two years of age — beautiful as the cherubs we picture — and coming like a fairy in the night, she seemed as the type of his Lordship's paradise. At the stroke of the fell destroyer, the fabric of his happiness passed; his Eden became a desert — the spring of joy was dried up, and every flower had withered — nothing was spared but the smiles of his cherub. As the exile driven from his home snatches in his flight one lovely 92 GLEN LONELY. flower, in remembrance of the past, so be- loved, so cherished, was the beautiful Emily. Lady Glenlonely perished in becoming a mother, and before her sufferings were re- paid by clasping her first-born to her bosom. Sinking and exhausted, she felt that the lamp of life was fluttering ; that a little while, and a mother's hope would be shadowed in the darkness of the grave ! That moment of trial was the Christian's triumph, but the struggle was severe. To be so loved on earth — to see the anguish of a husband, so dear and so devoted — to touch the goal of promised bliss, and yet not win the race — to perish in the lap of youth, riches, all that could link an erring child to its earthly home, and yet to be resigned ! this was no common trial ; the victory was won, but not without a struggle. She prayed for strength ; she asked in the name of her Saviour, and was heard ; she pointed to the Father's home, where death has no dominion. "'Tis there," said the dying Christian, " 'tis only there, we can hope to meet and part no GLENLONELY. 93 more ; on earth we have been too blessed, we dreamt not of an hour like this. The gift we asked, the child of our prayers, might have weaned the mother from her heavenly Father; we watched not the flight of the arrow, and doubly keen is the blow which comes in the night, and wakes us from the dream of bliss ; but the punishment is just ! Yes, Glenlonely, we have loved too well on earth; 1 feel that the penance is death, and to that decree we must bow with resis^nation." Poor Glenlonely heard the faint tones of her who was his all on earth ; he knelt by the couch ; utterance was choked ; but he watched the lips of the dying, and joined in his heart the prayer which she breathed. He clasped her to his bosom, as if he could snatch her from the hands of death ; he folded his arms around her for protection, and hoped, fond dreamer ! she might yet be spared. Sweet was the short interval of rest she tasted then. She was not deceived — she felt that her doom was sealed ; but never on that bosom had she been so happy, for her dream 94 GLENLONELY. was now of life immortal: gathering her sinking force, she made another effort to speak : she had read the hope which was written in her husband's look ; she could not say it false, but fondly, mournfully shaking her head, she pointed to the heavens, and said, — '* Our meeting will be there ! Should I live to give birth to the life within me, let it be to Emily as a brother or sister; be a father to her as you would to the child of our union; reveal to no living being the sorrows of her birth ; as my last request, I ask you to spare the name of her mother." We will not dwell on the remaining hours of Lady Glenlonely; she spoke but little after- wards; the principle of life within the womb wrestled with the slayer of all things ; ex- piring nature strove to the last; and amidst the throes and agonies of death, Herbert Lindsay received the breath of life. The mind of Lord Glenlonely was stunned by the blow of affliction; he shed no tears ^ he was deaf to the voice of his child ; a torpor had benumbed his heart; a vision of utter GLENLONELY. 95 wretchedness pressed upon his brain, but he deemed it false ; he struggled to awake, and cast out the demon of despair. Such were the first effects of this sad and unexpected loss : beloved by his attendants, every want was supplied which affection could suggest; but their attentions were unheeded, or taken, like his meals, mechanically. In rendering the last homage to the remains of Lady Glenlonely, he stood as a mourner unmoved. Not even the dull echo from the coffin, when the clammy earth answ^ers to the words, " Dust to dust," — not even this, could rouse Glenlonely : every eye was wet but his ; young hearts sobbed aloud, touched by the voice of the grave; Glenlonely alone was calm ; he watched till the earth had closed upon the dead, then, looking on the mourners around, he smiled at their grief, — he thought them deceived, — he deemed the reality a vision. Who has not dreamed, and said to himself, " It is but a dream?" — Who has not fought with the nightmare of his thoughts, and awoke 96 GLENLONELY. in the struggle to be free? Such was the impression upon Lord Glenlonely's mind ; but, alas ! it was no dream. Such were the efforts he made to awake; but, alas ! in doing this, he only looked upon reality. His Lordship was still young, and the powers of life gradually recovered from the shock they had sustained ; reason resumed her throne, and endeavoured to bend the mind to resignation. There is in nature an elasticity — an im- mortal germ of regeneration. She sleeps in the shadow of night, or the mantle of snow ; she is bowed by the storms and buffetings of the changing world, but she weathers them all : she answers to the call of the rising sun, leaps into life at the touch of spring ; again she is clad in her joyous smile; and again and again, with the voice of a syren, she calls on the living to rejoice. Dead, indeed, must be the heart which heeds not the appeal. The kingdom of nature is on earth — the immortality of man above. But there is a sympathy between the two. Man in his pilgrimage treads the path of GLENLONELY. 97 checkered days ; in mind and body alternately depressed and raised, till, at last, the pilgrim sinks to rise no more, and his soul escapes the prison of corruption. It was a glorious morning in the month of May that Lord Glenlonely first awoke to the fiill perception of his loss. For months he had been confined to his couch, till at length the fever was subdued, and he slowly recovered his strength. With returning health he resumed his walks ; and, one by one, each favourite haunt was visited. Still, however, he wandered as a dreamer in the land; happier, perchance, than when the cloud had passed, and the light of reason was restored. Cheered by the brightness of the day, there was a lightness in his step, a buoyancy in the sparkling eye, which was in harmony with the happiness around. He pursued his course through a winding dell, which suddenly opened upon a small but beautiful lake; one of those Highland gems, set, like an emerald, in the bosom of her mountains. Excepting one nar- row approach, it was completely inclosed by VOL. I. F 98 GLENLONELY. surrounding rocks. In one part, nearly per- pendicular, they raised their pinnacles like the ruins of a chieftain's tower; in another, they had fostered the trees of the forest and the heather of the hills till their sterner character Avas lost, or only betrayed by some pointed spire, some dark overhanging mass, which frowned amidst the blossoms of spring. Op- posite the entrance was seen the source which fed the lake, — a crystal stream, leaping from crag to crag, silvered in its flight, till, wearied, at length it gained the lake, and sank to repose. In the centre of this was one small island, rich w^itli the varied hues of golden moss, and studded with shrubs and trees, -which curved their waving boughs, and played with the passing ripple. Art, guided by the pm'est taste, had added to its native beauty, and given to the rock the gathered treasures of its kind. This was the spot loved above all others by the late Lady Glenlonely : here it was that she and her adoring husband passed hours of secluded happiness, — hours enjoyed, for they GLENLONELY. 99 were varied by a thousand pursuits. Together they had designed the simple temple devoted to their love ; together they had watched its creation, and directed the woodwork of mosaic : the profanation of the mason's lime w^as for- bidden; the neighbouring woods furnished the materials, and each remained in the garb of nature. Fir trees, clothed in their rugged coat, formed the columns to support the roof: the circle in which they stood was broken in completing the whole, and the space be- tween each w^as filled by mosaic of the varied bark, — fantastic, wild, and rude, yet shaded with skill, and evincing order amidst the sallies of invention. Branches, curved in their growth, gave the festoon which crowned the sides; and the apple of the pine-tree, hanging from a cord of platted bark, completed the upholstery of the sylvan walls. In the same manner the roof was coved and groined, till it found one com- mon centre. From this was suspended a Roman lamp, less for use than the beauty of its form, and the deep and solemn thoughts it awakened in a spot so suited to meditation. F 2 100 GLENLONELY. We must leave the reader to complete the interior. Let him picture, but preserve, the style throughout in the chairs and tables — the desk of oak — the ottomans of moss — the dim recess — the painted glass — the clustered books — the vase of flowers — the eagle's feather — the countless nothings in keeping with the scene, which give the air of life, and mark the spirit of the genius which presides. Eager and animated, Lord Glenlonely ar- rived at the water's edge, and, looking to a sheltering cavern on his left, he perceived the boat which had so often borne himself and his gentle Mary to their island home. He motioned to his attendants, and in a few minutes the bark was ready, and Lord Glen- lonely seated at the stern. How soothing it is to glide on the mirror of the sleeping waves ! The breath of spring, the voice of nature, gladdened the living air ; the very trout leapt from its denser element to catch the passing sweets. Lord Glenlonely, resting his head upon his arm, looked on the sky reflected in the lake. GLENLONELY. 101 Not a cloud appeared ; nought, save here and there some specks of fleeting scud, which gamboled like a dolphin in the air. He almost deemed that he was sailing in the realms above, the beautiful blue of heaven. His mind was calmed, his kindly heart warmed with the influence of universal joy, and for a moment he was happy; the next, he dared not trust the happiness he felt. Returning reason glanced at the truth, and he said within himself, " She is not here with whom all hap- piness was shared." Like one prepared to know the worst, he leapt from the boat, and hastened to the shrine of hallowed love. Since last they lingered there, no step had entered. He raised the latch, and looked upon the trace of life as vivid as it were but yesterday. The harp, its key, the seat beside, the music open at the song he loved, the sketch not yet complete, the pencils near, and colours bright, un faded, on the pallet ; the book still open at the page where last they read. These told of life; but near to these were tales of darker hue. The F 3 102 GLENLONELY. flowers withered in the vase — the cunning of the spider's web woven on the artist's cup — fruit, she had wished to sketch as glowing with the tints of autumn, now faded, shrunk, and passing to corruption. Reason awoke, reality flashed upon the brain, and in an instant gave the records of the past. The closing scene — the chamber of the dead — the mourn- ing hearse — the funeral — the grave, — all rose upon his sight. He knew that his Mary was in heaven ! He gasped for breath, and staggered to a seat. He clasped his hands upon his brow, as if to shun the vision he had seen : it would not pass ; but the floodgates of the heart were opened, and bursting tears relieved the mourner's agony. From that hour Lord Glenlonely was an altered man. His life was no longer one continued dream. He had regained the power of separating fiction from truth; the fetters of insanity were broken, and the mind was restored. In the building we have partly described GLENLONELY. 103 there was a Gothic arch, which opened to a room in miniature, a fairy hall, with marble floor, strewed with the fadeless flowers of Tuscan art; the sides, carved and panelled with an artist's skill, were filled with sketches by a master's hand. Amidst these, recesses, formed of mimic depth, held models of the Grecian art, — the vase — the cup — the urn, — true to that grace and elegance of outline which charm the heart and pour tranquillity within. In nooks and corners brackets grew, and bore some sculptured gems. In all there reigned the harmony of size ; the very table, the wreathed mosaic on its spotless marble, bore this spell : one atom added or withdrawn, one flower or leaf deranged, would have in- jured the whole design, and stolen from a beauty of proportion felt by all, but noticed by few. The light, falling from above, gave a more sacred tone to this little sanctuary. To the Hebrew it had been the Holy of Holies, the refuge for his ark ; the Papist would have added some saintly relics, and named it his oratory; the Roman, his luxurious bath; the F 4 104 GLENLONELY. sage, some human skull. Lord Glenlonely steered a course between them all : it was sacred in his eyes, for it held his relics, the treasured gifts of his Mary's love ; it was holy, for the volumes there were such alone as told how man was saved and born for immortality. He needed not the ghastly skull, for the touching but simple figure of the cross, formed in the wall which faced the entrance, and closed with tints of coloured glass, shed a holier light than the sage's lamp. It told of death, but also taught the lesson of salvation. The tears were still upon Lord Glenlonely's cheeks when the rays of the sinking sun fell upon this window — if such it might be called ; the folding doors were open, and its image was transferred to the adjoining room. Glen- lonely raised his eyes, and saw his Mary's sketch glowing with the glories of the setting sun, the very tints she had endeavoured to portray. On the wall beyond was the figure of the cross : the words of the dying sounded in his ear; he recalled the last request of her who was no more ; her prayer of resignation in the midst GLENLONELY. 105 of suffering — the faith of meeting in a happier world. Again he looked upon the cross, his tears ceased, and he returned to his home, sad but resigned. It was absolutely necessary to give this little excursion to the lake, or there would have been some points beyond the reader's comprehension. Though we may not for the present reveal more than was known to the world, we must state the facts upon which its tales of wonderment were grounded. We have already noticed the apparent mys- tery which hung over the birth of Emily St. Clair. In addition to this, there was a younger brother of Lord Glenlonely who inherited the maiden accumulations of some dear old aunts ; unluckily for himself he lived but a short time to enjoy their munificence. At his death he divided the whole of his property between his nephew Herbert Lindsay and Emily St. Clair, thus nobly repaying the debt of gratitude due to his virgin aunts, by blessing that venerable race with a mine of endless gossip. There was one other fact delightfully unaccountable : when the F 5 106 GLENLONELY. intended union was broken off, Emily St. Clair continued to reside with the widowed lord, and the son bade adieu to his father's home. On his return from the lake, Lord Glenlonely was met, as usual, by the smiles of the beautiful Emily. In the days of his greatest abstraction, his " Emmy " was always welcome : the child's affections had never been weaned, for he petted her mechanically ; and if at times she might not tempt him to look upon her innocent pur- suits, she would cast aside her toys, and, rasing to the ground the card-built pagoda, would sit contented on his knee, and watch his melancholy look, as if she strove to read the musings of his wandering mind. To-day he paid her smiles with smiles. He clasped her to his bosom. Again the source of tears was touched; he wept to find that he was still beloved. It may seem unnatural, nevertheless it is true to the mazes of the human heart, when we relate that Lord Glenlonely turned from the si^ht of his infant son ; in him he beheld the slayer of his wife. In woman there is the brute instinct of the OLENLONELY. 107 mother, that wonderful power which nerves the weak, gives courage to the timid, and makes the poor bird a glad martyr for its little ones. Man has none of this. The father might die to defend his child as he would have done to protect his wife ; but he knows not that instinct of courage and devotion born with the birth of the mother's child, flowing from the heart like the stream of life which is given from her bosom. This is a holy love, for it is com- manded from on high: but we, in the frailty of our nature, have no power to command our affections; they are born in caprice, hope, sympathy, or chance; they may endure, but are never certain ; their reign may be strong or wild as a tyrant's power; like that they may perish at a blow. Still, howsoever they may mock at reason, impossible though it be to force them into being, there are the means of supplying their place ; if we cannot light the torch within our heart, we can see by the light of reason the path which the heart should have chosen, and that we can pursue. F 6 108 GLENLONELY. O woman, in thy wretchedness, spurned by the one round whom the incense of thy whole affections burned, how have we seen thee tend in devotion the being who had quenched the flame and forfeited thy love for ever ! But we were speaking of man. To return, then, to Lord Glenlonely : — in kindness and * devotion he was more than a father to his infant boy ; he watched with a mother's eye, and saw each want supplied ; he reproached himself for the anguish it cost when he looked upon his smiles : the chamber of death was imaged with his birth ; he struggled, but in vain ; the jewel was beyond the cost ; he bitterly atoned for having loved too well the fairest of the daughters of earth. On the little Emily the same guardian care was bestowed, but given with the warmth of love ; she was a relic from his Mary's hand, the type of happiness they once enjoyed, and to which his memory clung. Where we love and seek to be beloved there is no mistaking the words and actions which GLENLONELY. 109 spring from affection ; the same, the very same, flowing from a cooler source, are but a chilling bounty. The young heart of Herbert Lindsay was early sensible of his father's devoted kind- ness, and yearned towards him with the purity and warmth of childhood's feeling. In all his little cares and wants — his seeking after know- ledore — in health or sickness — there was the o wish to turn towards his father : but the fire which should have welcomed, the beacon of love which should have shown the harbour of a father's heart — these were not always kindled. Children are keen observers, and the more able to be so, because with them man does not condescend to use the mask he wears with fellow-man. At times the little Herbert per- ceived that the eyes he sought were turned away, or burned without that bright and holy flame which answers to the signal of distress. If not repulsed, he was not hailed ; the rising question died in silence, the throbbings of a fevered brow^ were borne untold. He could not sue, and he was not asked to tell his cares 110 GLENLONELY. and wants ; reserve and distance were the consequences. The peculiarities of Lord Glenlonely's retire- ment were too marked to escape his son's atten- tion ; he had naturally sought for the cause, and the story of his father's wreck was shortly told. When this was known, Herbert Lindsay never varied in his line of conduct. If there were moments when his presence could please, he was at his father's side ; if, on the contrary, he saw the gathering cloud, he framed some cause of absence, or, effecting some wish ex- pressed by Lord Glenlonely, he would watch for the opportunity of saying, " Father, j-our wishes are fulfilled." As Lord Glenlonely advanced in years, the mind partook of the body's decay ; the in- sanity — if such we must term it — increased ; the intervals were fewer in which he could enjoy the society of the best of sons ; and when Herbert Lindsay relinquished the hand of Emily St. Clair, he decided upon quitting his father's roof, as a step most conducive to the remaining happiness of those most dear GLENLONELY. 1 1 J Towards Emily St. Clair the feelings of Lord Glenlonely had been those of unvaried affec- tion, — she was to him the gentle planet of equal light and warmth — his cherub once, and now his ministering angel. In one, a bankrupt in earthly hope, with an intellect which trembled still from the shock it had sustained, may we not forgive the selfish love which led him to retain the stay of declining years ? Can we wonder that his Lordship was averse to the marriage between his son and Emily St. Clair ? At first he would not listen to the subject ; without assigning one specific reason, he was decidedly opposed. For the first time in his lift he addressed his son in words of bitter re- proach: the first time that he alluded to the loss of his wife he coupled the birth of his son with his wreck of happiness ; " and now," he added, " while bowed with sorrow I feebly approach the grave of my sainted Mary, you would snatch from my hands the only remaining prop." Herbert Lindsay proved how much he had been wroncred. He kissed his father's hand, im- 112 GLENLOKELY. plored his blessing and forgiveness, and re- newed his hopes no more. Left to himself, Lord Glenlonely felt the mjustice of his words. The hand which his son had kissed was resting on the velvet of his chair ; his eyes turned with his thoughts, and he traced the channel of a fallen tear; the same hand was raised to his fevered brow, and the tears of the father flowed in the chan- nel marked by the son : the impression of that hour was not effaced by following days. Glenlonely watched his Emily, the workings of her mind. Abstracted in his thoughts, and blessed with her devotedness, the idea of her loving his son had never occurred : a few weeks convinced him of his error. Emily St. Clair felt, if it were possible, more than a daughter's love for Lord Glenlonely. A child has just claims to the affection of its parent ; but she had none on him, who had been to her more than a father. His love w^as the free-will offering to the homeless orphan : and her gratitude sprang from feelings strongei' than the sense of duty, warmer than those GLENLONELY. 113 of a daughter, who is bound to repay that which she has a right to demand. When Glenlonely objected to her marriage with his son, she bowed to his decision. She perceived the pain and agitation which the subject oc- casioned, and at once was prepared to sacrifice her hopes for the peace of her guardian's mind. But the tide of woman's love — deep, passionate, and pure — flows hke the clear and ceaseless river. It may be covered by the veil of a cold and calm exterior, but the tell-tale cheek speaks like ice upon the stream beneath. All seems frozen upon the surface, the roses wither, and the snow-drop springs ; the liquid brightness of the eye is glazed; we look upon the winter of despair, yet know that the pulse of love is throbbing in the shrouded heart. Lord Glenlonely's attention once aroused could not be deceived. Love had been to him a master-passion, the one absorbing all others, and under every guise he recognised the tyrant's step. Once convinced, he mastered 114 GLENLONELY. every selfish thought, and rewarded his Emmy's devotion by consenting to her union with his son. Such were the simple facts known to the busy world, and which, we trust, are sufficient to explain why Emily St. Clair was still under the roof of Lord Glenlonely, and why his son was not. For the reasons which led to their voluntary resignation of proflFered happiness the reader must wait with becoming patience. GLENLONELY. 1 15 CHAP. V. A winter's day-dream in ITALY. We '11 lead the public by the nose, And write our poetry in prose. Hush de Brass. " Hell is paved with good intentions," are the words of a powerful writer ; nevertheless, they are false. Evil is not founded on good. Quo- tations, once received, pass current with suc- ceeding ages : they spare the trouble of think- ing, and are welcomed from lip to lip. The words we have quoted occurred to memory as we felt in a particularly delightfully lazy mood. Seated in a venerable elbowed chair, cosing over the treasured ashes of our dogs — cheered by the crackling wood, the blazing apples of the pine-tree — with pen in hand, and paper on our knee — we intended to lit) GLENLONELY. fulfil our promise, and describe the meeting of the friends. But the flowers of our silken damask, '' couleur de rose^^ while they won us to our seat, shed the sweet influence of idleness, — we were much too happy to think for ourselves; and, having quoted the words of another, sank in the dreamy happiness of morning sleep. Do not imagine that our eyes were closed: it was not the sleep of the weary which weighs the eyelids down ; they looked upon a thousand beauties, and wandered, like a noiseless ray, from charm to charm. The sun was bright : we feh its smile, but still we dreamt. Without one effort, thoughts — fancies — visions, wild and everchanging — came uncalled, and passed like fleece upon the sky — the golden fleece — the bright blue sky of Italy — the sunny rays, which warmed to life though winter reigned — the lullaby of breaking waves — the garden blooming to the very beach — the hedge of aloes — the crystal sea, tinged with the colours of the dying dolphin — the shepherd v/ith his flock ■ — the GLENLONELY. 117 breath of hay upon its shore * — the stately palm with waving plumes — the glowing orange — the silvered olive — the myrtle and carna- tion — the roses climbing like the wanton vine, and blushing by the cypress near. Ah ! who could look on these, nor be a poet in his dreams ? To say the truth, we, of the plural number, had almost committed that folly, and were only saved by seeing cabbages and green peas mingled w^ith the magic of Italia's garden ! The peas might have passed muster with the classic dunghill of poor Cowper ; but a cab- bage ! — a compact sphere of crumpled cab- bage ! — this brought us to our senses. We woke with horror ! We felt the passing chill of England's December; and the longings of our maiden muse were lost in the fogs of boiled beef and an eating-house. Yes; it was December, — that black and cheer- * The peasants transport their late crops of grass to the sea-shore, and make hay upon the shingles : the seed which escapes takes root in the sand, and produces grass enough to tempt the shepherd and his flock. 118 GLENLONELY. less month, when we were subjected to the un- profitable temptation of writing poetry. Blessed be the name of cabbage, which brought us to the level of the age ! — to the earth, earthy ! It saved us from a precipice as we wandered in our sleep; but, the danger past, we turned to dream again. We chased the gnat which had crept within the net-work of our fancy, and again w^ere blest in the mistiness of floating thoughts. Though the year was closing, and the fire a luxury, our windows were opened to the garden terrace. Though strongly contrasted, how sweetly did all things harmonise ! — the fresh- ness of winter wdth the glow of summer — the geranium and the jessamine blooming on the trellis of the leafless vine — the floor of brick and the rug of Persia — the blazing hearth fed by a breath like that of spring — the lengthened ray sunning the colours of our checkered carpet ; such were the charms which mingled with the parting year, and raised the image of a Christian's death — his hopes which brightly cheer the darkness of the closing grave. GLENLONELY. 119 Still, as we dreamt, the floating visions passed, and led us with their changing hues ; we looked upon our easel, and the scattered sketches in- tended to be finished — on dusty models finished and intended to be patent — on riches gathered by the fi'iends who stole the thoughts intended for ourselves — on drawings intended for our idle lathe — on tools intended for the works un- finished still ; there stood the w^ild ambition of our young mechanic mind, motion intended to be perpetual; yes, there it stood, the cable of a spider's web had checked the balance ex- quisitely fine, and brought our hopes to anchor. Our vision fixed upon our guns, our pistols, rods, and tackle. Again we traced the scenes of long-forgotten years — the fields of corn — the autumn wood — the purple moor — the treacherous bog — the silent river, — and watched the salmon leaping at the roaring falls. We saw them all ; we saw the first poor victim of unerring sight — the dying pheasant. Again we rushed to seize the prize, again we paused and looked upon the picture, vivid as it then appeared ; there lay the bird — helpless — 120 GLENLONELY. maimed — but living still; the crimson blood had dyed the glories of its plumage ; its heav- ing bosom gasped for breath ; its large, black, brilliant eye was fixed on ours ; we dared not touch it — no — until that eye had closed, and one convulsive flutter told the agony of death was passed, we dared not move; we trembled like a coward, and — intended — never — never to fire another shot. We stood by the sparkling ripple, and looked upon the worm writhing on the hook; we thought of the vow we made, and one intention kept. We grasped a pistol in our hand — there w^as a demon in our heart — we raised the muzzle — away ! away ! this is the nightmare of our thoughts — let holier visions come. We caught the spirit of our good inten- tions — a host resolved — a few fulfilled ; we thought of the chapter we had intended to write ; we thought with the thoughts of another, and awoke with these words on our tongue, " Hell is paved with good intentions." The sun, in its ceaseless course, had scaled the heavens, and darted its rays upon us and our damask roses ; there was no witlistanding GLENLONELY. 121 this — we might lay the spirit of a cabbage — but the orb of hght and life was beyond our power — there needed a voice almighty and eternal to bid the sun to sink and rest its glories on the bosom of the sea. We awoke ; and, thinking on the words we had quoted, we pronounced them false — no — no — our good intentions are the stars in heaven — they are the good seed we sow in purer worlds than this. The tempter may lure our thoughts to earth — \\'e may cease to watch and water — the seed may bring forth nothing, but it was sown where all is incorruptible, and perish it cannot ! — There it is — the sower may return when he will — he may. water it with the tears of repentance, and the seed shall shoot and multiply a hundred fold. And when the poor frail husbandman is dead — when he stands before his Judge — this good seed, sown above, shall be weighed against the tares and weeds of this world: — lioht though it be, compared to the fruits of good works, it shall count in the scale — evil cannot spring from good ; and the merit of having sown the good VOL. I. G r22 GLENLONELY. seed remains for ever : ■ — no — no — hell is paved with dark corruption, which feeds the nightshade of our poisoned thoughts. And what is this to our purpose ? — Much. Having touched upon two extremes, we are likely to return to a middle course. We have studded with stars the vault of heaven, and planted with deadly nightshade the pavement of hell. Thus, having travelled like the beam of a balance to the lowest and highest possible, like that, we now hope to regain a horizontal position — and rest. ^" * I was on the point of sending this work to Eng- land, when a friend reminded rne that Capt. Marryat had begun a chapter with the quotation, " Hell is paved with good intentions," and pursued the idea for a few lines. He who has gained so many laurels by the sword and pen might have spared one leaf^ had the present writer done more than accidentally alighted upon the same theme. GLENLOXELY. 123 CHAP. VI. THE EXILE. My age is as a lusty winter. Frosty, but kindly : let me go with you, I '11 do the service of a younger man In all your business and necessities. Shakspeare. The imagination, like the balance, needs but little impulse to renew its wanderings ; but here we must drop the simile, for the mind would never be content to move for ever upon a given centre, — it must progress. Beyond all doubt there is a magic and a mys- tery in the number three. — From the time when Adam and Eve looked upon their first-born, and counted three in the world, to the present day, when little ones are countless, the fact has been acknowledged : each succeeding age has G -2 124 GLENLOXELY. tried to read the hidden charm, but in vain. Still, however, the fact is undeni^d; its in- fluence might be traced in every page of his- tory, and instances without end, from the three Graces to the Three Jolly Butchers, w^ho swing upon the publican's sign — the sinner looks up, and finds resistance vain. — Think of the Roman's triumvir, how well it worked ! — ■ think of England's three united kingdoms, how they pull together, in spite of O'Connell ! — think of an Esquimaux doc- tor, who cures toothache and swelling by three taps on the cheek and three puffs in tlie face ; — think, most learned reader, of all your third attempts, and you will comprehend why we now feel certain of introducing Colonel Murray to the friend of his early days. Twice we have started with this intention, and been turned from our path, but now the ground is our own, — there is magic in our step. "When Colonel Murray determined to visit Italy, he was influenced by the hope of seeing Herbert Lindsay. What a volume would their meeting open ! — what records of the years GLENLO^'EL\^ 125 since last they met ! — and, ah I what happiness to reperuse the spotless pages of their child- hood's hour ! In the first moment of desponding grief, Lindsay shrunk from society, and shrouded his very habitation from a knowledge of the world. Murray, his all-confided friend, was the only one whose presence he could have borne, and he was far away. Chained to the duties of his stern profession, Murray was treading that path of gbry, to retire from which is infamy. Forward I forward ! was then his imperious watchword : — he might trample in his course upon the dead and dy- ino^, — but he mif^ht not turn back to heal the wounds of a friend, or listen to his mother, had she called from the bed of death. Such, indeed, was the veiled seclusion of Herbert Lindsay : it was not till after the Colonel's return to Scotland that he learned its bearings. During the war, he had from time to time exchanged letters with his friend ; but the correspondence passed through the medium of Lord Glenlonelj^s steward, — a G 3 126 GLENLONELY. man who had known and loved both from their infancy. The hurried moments snatched from the bustle of a soldier's life, the risk and uncertainty of the post and address, gave no opportunity of long or confidential commu- nication. The Colonel had already meditated a visit to his friend, when the Russian campaign occurred, and offered the means of adding to his knowledge in the art to which his life was devoted. But this opportunity, however valu- able, he would have gladly sacrificed, had he obtained Lindsay's consent to their meeting. The poor recluse dared not then accept the proposal : he had been ill in body as well as mind, and felt unequal to sustain the flow of bright and bitter recollections. Great as the happiness would be in grasping the hand of his dearest friend, the fevered pulse would quicken with the touch; — wounds tranquillised by solitude would be burst by the throbbing vein, and bleed anew : he was then too feeble for the trial, but hoped, on the Colonel's re- turn, to be able to receive him. GLEXLOXELY. 127 The old steward of Lord Glenlonely accom- panied Herbert Lindsay when he bade adieu to England. This faithM servant evinced that beautiful simplicity of attachment which is sometimes seen in his rank of life. His father, and the forefathers of his father, had held the same rank for ages past : branches of the same family planted on the estate had lived in their cottao^es as in freeholds of their own : they had become a part of the Glenlonely pro- perty, — as much so as the venerable timber around the house : to have removed either would have seemed the act of a parricide ; they were continued, and respected as the living heir-looms of inheritance. John Moggeridge — such was the name of the present steward — was senior to his honoured lord. Lord Glenlonely, previously to his marriage, had travelled much, and availed himself of opportunities of visiting the Continent, which, in those days, were pos- sessed by few. Moggeridge was his follower; ever ready to minister to his wants, or sacri- fice his life in defence of his master. He was then in the pride of manhood, a something G 4 1*28 GLENLONELY. more than six feet three in height, with Hmbs fully, yet finely proportioned, and a perfect study for the sculptor ; with a countenance open and sunny as the mid-day of summer; locks crisped with a thousand careless curls, and laughing eyes of lightest blue ; he looked the image of that good nature, which, luckily for the weak, is apt to accompany the con- sciousness of power. Such a being, however, was not to be trifled with, any more than the lion, with a lap-dog in his den : many a time he proved a host within himself, when Lord Glenlonely, urged by classic lore or spirit of romance, explored the treasures of Italian ruins. Things have changed since then, in Italy as well as England ; and the scholar may now travel as safely to Paestum as the citizen to Shooter's Hill. In the days of John Mogger- idge, banditti and highwaymen were more frequent than milestones. What deeds of prowess and adventure could we not relate ! but we will resist the tempter for once, and be as faithful to our Colonel's steps as bold Mog- sceridffe was to those of his lord. GLEN LONELY. 1*29 How difficult it is to fix the imagination ! Reader, did you ever see a grindstone urged by the powers of steam ? We mean a sohd, compact, and circular mass of stone whirling on its centre. Did you ever see the centrifugal motion shiver the stone to a thousand bits, — piercing the roof like shot from the cannon, — slaying the mechanic on the spot, — and scat- tering death and destruction around ? Had you seen this, as we have, and as we hope you have not, you would comprehend why imagin- ation is like the grindstone referred to. There is a perpetual tendency to fly off: it requires clamps and contrivances to keep it to its work. We will not insult the reader by asking if he comprehends ? He must see the pith of our illustration, and pity our difficulties ; he must, for he lives in the land of the rushlights of knowledge. Sweet stars of earth, whicli light us by day like the fire-flies by night, and all for a penny ! oh, how we hail their aid ! Life is worth living for when we may write a long word without explanation, — when we may say '- centrifugal," without stopping to G 5 130 GLENLONELY. add, i. e. "a predisposition to fly from the point" — and when we may turn the reader to ponder in wisdom without an apology. To return to John Moggeridge. He, poor fellow, had seen the fire-flies of night, and thanked, with simple fervour, their wonderful Creator. His books were mostly the works of nature. The school in which he studied was no bad one for the times wherein he lived. After the birth of Herbert Lindsay, the duties of his stewardship appeared to centre in watching over the orphan heir. The death of Lady Glenlonely rendered it necessary to seek in another the fountain of infant life, and Moggeridge, indirectly, was the means of sup- plying this want. If the milk of human kind- ness, in which he abounded, was not quite the substitute requu'ed, a most perfect one was found in his younger daughter. This person had had the double misfortune of losing her husband and child. Woman must have a something to love; and woman, if not man, can easily imagine the widow's consolation as she pressed the little Herbert to her bosom. GLENLONELY. 131 The love of a foster-mother is proverbial in Scotland, — and in this case there was every combining cause to make it stronger than usual ; while Moggeridge, who had received his widowed daughter to his roof, felt for Herbert as if he were his "ain bairn," born to him in the days of good old age. At times he would sit for hours by the cradle, and watch the slumbers of the boy. If some baby-horror broke the stillness of repose, he would let the infant's hand attempt to grasp his finger for support, and then his giant limbs would rest as if a spell had bound them. At other times he would carry the infant to breathe the mountain air, or slumber in his arms. We have seen him there watching the smile of innocence, till his weather-beaten features beamed with the spirit of its ray. The stroke of affliction which, in the first instance, stunned the faculties of Lord Glen- lonely's mind, left his son as much to the care of others as if he had been entirely an orphan. And, indeed, when his Lordship recovered, such was the painful excitement occasioned by o 6 132 GLENLONELY. seeing the link of departed bliss, that it was found necessary to keep Herbert with his foster- mother, excepting when Lord Glenlonely ex- pressed a wish to the contrary. As Herbert increased in years, Moggeridge became even a better companion than he was a nurse. He accompanied him in all his ram- bles, — told the legend of every cave and ruin, — pointed out the eagle's eyrie, or haunts of the biggest trout; and when, with gun in hand, they tracked the deer, the slender form of Herbert had little trouble in threading the wildest cover. If their path were opposed, Moggeridge would lean with the weight of his Herculean form, and burst through the crackling boughs like a mammoth of the woods. What happy days were those for this faithful follower, or rather, we should say, this mighty leader ! How he hailed the returning holi- days, and envied every hour devoted to Latin and Greek ! It is a part of such attachment to forget that the boy may become a man. There is a some- thing in the changing seasons — the returning GLENLONELY. 133 night and day — which marks the revolving year; and the first short day of twelve suc- ceedinof months seems like tlie milestone of our earthly pilgrimage. Time, in its divisions, is marked; but sorrow, sickness, happiness, or agony, constitute the length of life. We may live twenty years in one, or glide from one to twenty, and the whole shall seem as one. Within one given mile we may look on nature's majesty, her wonderful beauty, and the glad creation. We may see the same warring with the awful elements, — the mountains rearing their craggy pinnacles as if they dared the thunderbolt ; — we may watch the waters gathered by the wind, — may see them walk the air, and track the ruin of the bursting column. The image of either will be fixed for ever. Within a little we have looked upon a world of loveliness — a world of sublimity and horror. And then again, we may journey mile after mile, many in number, but nothing in recorded reality. It is thus with human life. Time is noted in our details : moments of suf- fering or bliss may be as a life to man ; but 134 GLENLONELY. time, as a whole, is invisible. It is borne on wings which mock the ear and the eye. Whence it cometh and whither it goeth none may say. It passeth from eternity to eternity, ■ — those gulfs of mystery and darkness un- fathomable by the mind of mortal ! The faithful Moggeridge was too calmly happy to reflect thus deeply about the course of years. The stream of time had probably sounded more intellio;ible to him. He might have comprehended how, flowing from gulf to gulf, it supplied the clouds and mists of his Highlands, — how the earth drank the glad showers which descended, and yielded the plenty of his humble wants. These, indeed, were few. He stood like the oak in the valley of v/aters, — undisturbed by the mighty stream, yet drinking of the blessings which sprang be- side its course ; so tranquil was the tenour of his days, and so greatly did the retirement and sameness of Lord Glenlonely's life add to the stillness of retiring years. Moggeridge, to be sure, had one yearly reckoning which he never forgot. No hand GLENLOXELY. 135 but his was allowed to prepare the ashen faggot which each returning eve of Christmas was burnt in honour of his lord. This custom, still so prevalent in the west of England, had been introduced for ages past into the Glenlonely family. The soil of the superstitious north was most congenial ; and a new belief w^as soon grafted on the original stock, namely, that the neglect of this ceremony would involve the ruin, or, at least, the misery of the Glenlonely race. It was with feelings approaching to the sense of some sacred duty that Moggeridge fulfilled the task : — when he took the axe in hand, there was a fixed solemnity of feature which appeared at no other time — the ash destined to form the mystic faggot was cut at midnight, and he wandered forth alone. If the moon were bright, he might be seen winning his way amidst the crags, until he stood beside his chosen tree; — there he would pause, and, raising his light blue eyes to Heaven, would invoke a blessing on Glenlonely's lord. The prayer of an honest heart is pure, but IS6 GLENLONELY. energetic — it matters little what were the words ; but we doubt if Druid priest, with all the aid of art, ever appeared so awfully majestic as our own John Moggeridge. What had been the golden sickle — the sacred bough — the circling stones which mocked the size of man — compared to the simple but gigantic form of Moggeridge, wrapped in his tartan cloak, his hands folded on the glittering axe, backed by the sky of heaven, and magnified in the doubtful light of the midnight hour ? The same solemnity attended the completion of his work: — when trimming the faggots to their length, his children and his children's children would gather round and watch with breathless silence ; and while he bound the whole with bands answering in number to Glenlonely's years, one might have deemed it some magician weaving the web of life, or numbering the days of some devoted victim. Even here the spell, like our promise, could not be perfected without the magic number three, — the circling bands w^ere wound in three divisions, at either end, and in the centre. GLEXLONELY. 137 Happy the year when Lord Glenlonely's age allowed of an equal division I When this might not be, the fillets of imperfect augury were carefully placed in the centre, as if to guard them by the triple charm : this would not always avail — Lady Glenlonely, the young and beautiful, died in his Lordship's twenty-ninth year ! When this tribute had been prepared for the head of the family, it was carried with due solemnity to the ancient hall, and suspended till evening from antlers, of size and form long since extinct, which adorned the enor- mous fire-place. After this, Moggeridge would think of Glenlonely's heir — '• his ain dear bairn :" — in fulfilling this part of his sacred office, there was less of solemn and troubled anxiety : that one so young and happy could ever grow old and wretched entered not into his present cal- culations. T\\e custom, begun with the first year, was scrupulously continued, but without a shadow of dark foreboding. When the little Herbert had attained to the mighty age of 138 GLEXLONELY. twelve entire months, and Moggeridge held him laughing in his lap, he, too, smiled at his own perplexity in making one into three : — he said in his heart there is a power above which guards the innocent, and he laughed at his fears and doubts ; nevertheless, he chose one band suffi- ciently long to pass tliree times round the tiny faggot. The continuance of this ceremony might have hinted to Moggeridge, that twenty added to one, change infancy to manhood. Had he looked, as we do, upon the tw^o numbers at once, he would, probably, have thought of the intermediate space filled by revolving years — but this was not the case : — Herbert, as a babe, had been fostered beneath his roof, and from that hour had never ceased to receive his watchful care; — compared with himself, his slight and delicate form made him ever " his ain gentle bairn," who needed protection. Time stole on, a thousand changes were passing around, but the feelings of the faithful steward were unvaried : he laboured under a beautiful delusion of single-hearted affection, and Herbert GLENLONELi'. 139 was Still the boy to liim — the same to-day as twenty years ago. It must be confessed that, as Herbert advanced in years, Moggeridge had occasional misgivings as to Glenlonely's heir. To the separations caused by the course of studies he had sub- mitted with tolerable grace : he supposed it was right, though he could not quite comprehend how the dead languages assisted the living, or why one, born to abundance and command, should toil like a bailie's clerk; — '''yet," he would say within himself, " let the boy be learned as becomes his station, but why not study the history of his native Scotland ? If he must turn to the dead, why not read of the great she has given to the w^orld ?" And often, as he wandered over the Glenlonely estate, and made himself master of the wants and sorrows of its scattered tenantry, " is not this," he would ask, " a his- tory my gentle bairn should learn by heart ? The Greeks and Romans are passed — their destiny is filled — but here is a living school, a lesson worthy of Glenloneh^'s heir : — have we not here the mountain pass, the battle field, 140 GLENLONELY. — spots made sacred by a hero's death ?" And, warmed by the recollections he conjured up, his bosom expanded with the pride of glory, and he looked down with disdain upon the peaceful professors of Oxford. But when Herbert did return, and instead of listening to the legendary lore of John Moggeridge, — when, instead of devotion to the wild sports of his country, he sat for hours by the side of Emily Saint Clair, or guided her fairy feet to some bower amidst the crags, — he then, indeed, v/as sorely troubled — " the bairn must be bewitched ! " — Where was the daring spirit which used to nerve his gentle form, and where the glow of health ? They were stolen by the midnight watch, the magic of the moonlight ray, and he thought more gravely of the ashen faggot — of some ill omen from omission — of causes without end, — but never stumbled on the possibility of " little Emmy" becoming a woman, and Herbert — " the gentle bairn" — a man. Had Moggeridge opened his eyes to the pro- bability of such common-place events, he would, GLENLOXELY. 141 doubtless, have glanced at the spirit of love instead of darkness ; but looking beyond the simple truth, which grew imperceptibly at home, he only saw the distant clouds of anxiety and fear. His heart was too noble, too open for jealousy to find a lurking place within : could he have believed that Herbert was happy, he would have been content : believing the con- trary, he grieved in secret and despair, like the leech whose child is drooping from a cause be- yond his skill. Thus it was that his simple but fond delusion made him blind to the last — he gathered no wisdom from the means of daily ob- servation ; and when, at length, Herbert sought permission to make Emily St. Clair his wife, the absent and abstracted Glenlonely was not more surprised than John Moggeridge — what could have led " the bairn " to think of a wife was a mystery to him. But if the idea of Herbert's marrying were in- comprehensible, the subsequent departure from his Emily and home was doubly so. By degrees he had reconciled his notions to the intended union, and was almost, if not quite, convinced. 142 GLENLOXELY. that Herbert found as much happiness by the side of Emily St. Clair as he used to do in his rambles with John Moggeridge. Nay, more than this, as, in the course of years, he once more bound the mystic bands around the ashen faggot, and counted twenty, he was startled into a dim perception of the flight of time. In looking back, he called to mind his o\\^i much younger age, when first his troth was plighted to his blooming Grace : " but that," said he, " was another thing ; I had the bearing of a man when others are but boys ; " — and as this exception passed in favour of himself, he folded his arms upon the volume of his chest, and raising his right leg, the foot took its position in advance, and fell upon the earth with a weight and force which made it ring. The act had unconsciously followed the train of his reflections : — the trembling turf — the sudden stamp — recalled his thoughts, and a slight blush warmed his manly features as he felt that he stood in the pride of mortal strength; — his brow, which had been raised on high, bowed in grati- tude to the Giver of all things. Still, however, GLEXLOXELY. 143 as the eyes bent to earth, they glanced with ap- probation at the perfect but Herculean symmetry of the haughty limbs. The mind, alas ! is never perfect, though the form may be — frailty mingles with the prayers we make. This self-approving glance was but a passing speck upon the mind of Moggeridge; it vanished with the blush of shame for the pride of his heart ; an humbled and a softer tone prevailed : he thought of the vanity of worldly gifts ; of his own fond Grace, torn from his side by un- relenting death — the happy, happy days of their plighted love. Touched by the remembrance of the bliss he once possessed, — of the grief he felt when be- reaved of Grace, — he trembled lest the fate of Herbert should be dashed with sorrow. This would have been natural, without the aid of superstition ; but, strengthened by this dark phantom of the brain, his fears were doubled; — this was a year of evil omen, he thought, while dividing the tw^enty bands into their unequal numbers; another year, and their vows had been exchanged with brighter hopes. On^ 144 GLENLONELY. thing consoled him, that, in compliance with Lord Glenlonely's request, the marriage was not to take place until after Emily St. Clair came into possession of the property bequeathed by his Lordship's brother, and this would not be until she had attained the age of twenty-five. The superstitious feelings of Moggeridge caught at this as a reprieve : fancies, dark and undefined, crossed his visions of the future, but " the present moment is our ain — the next may never be;" and he regarded the pre- sent as we can imagine the blessed spirits to have watched the dwindling days of Paradise, when woman was about to gather of the tree of knowledge. Poor Moggeridge ! he might have spared himself many a solemn prognosti- cation, could he have peeped into futurity. There is a book where past, present, future, are written in imperishable light, but luckily for man he has no pov/er to lift the shrouding veil. His mind may wander in the utter darkness which surrounds the barrier — it may linger and be lost — or return to tell the folly of its daring; to feel, that for aught it knows, not GLENLONELY. 145 another instant may be given to write or speak the confession of humbled ignorance. The second sight of Moggeridge had looked upon coming events with the rays of the past. He remembered, as we all do, the trials which had come home to himself, and his solicitude for Herbert only anticipated some storm or shipwreck after marriage ; till then, he dreamt of nought but sunshine. When he heard that Herbert Lindsay was about to leave his country, home, and Emily St. Clair for ever, he was utterly foiled ; he stood the frozen image of wonderment. It is difficult to say when he would have thawed into life, had not the voice which communicated the fact also proposed that he should once again resume his travels : yes, it was the broken- hearted Herbert who addressed this faithful servant, and, forcing himself to wear a smile, said, " You, John, will not desert me in the day of sorrow ? " As he asked this question, or, rather, as he made this prayer, which he knew would be VOL. I. H 146 GLENLONELY. granted, he withdrew the hand with which Moggeridge strove to collect the senses of his startled brain ; he pressed it between his own, and raised it to his lips, as he would have done to the hand of a father. There are moments of deep emotion, when our feelings burst the barriers of form, and we are true to nature. Our actions may be styled unnatural ; may seem, as, indeed, they are, ex- ceptions to the rules society has framed ; they may raise the sneer of man, when angels would applaud : they are true to nature, for all are equal in the eye of God ; and were perfection possible on earth, we should feel, as, indeed, we are, brethren of one and the same flock. How well we remember the kiss which taught us these reflections ! It was some century ago when we were young in manhood ; rich to over- flowing, and living in the land of promise : the treacherous tide, though taken at the ebb, led on to ruin. There was an earthquake in the land ; the tide sank with the shock, and forgot to rise again : but youth can swim in troubled waters ; its buoyancy is soon recovered ; GLENLONELY. 147 and again we held up our head after the duck- ing we had had. Near to the lands where once we claimed a home, there lived the kindest-hearted woman in the world ! We had been her pet from the time she crammed us with cake, to the hour when she glanced at her pretty daughters, and thought, peradventm-e, of a son-in-law. Be this as it may, our changing tide left her heart where it was ; and the first time we called after the bustle of misfortune, instead of the warm and wonted pressure of the hand, she folded us like an infant to her bosom, planted a kiss upon our cheek, and watered it with tears ! ! ! Had the chaste and gentle moon stooped to kiss the sinking sun, it could not have surprised or shocked us more. A young man does not like to be kissed by a woman of sixty and odd : a very old or very young one might be tolerated ! but the mere old woman is most decidedly ob- jectionable. We blush to think how ungraciously we shrank from the ovei'flowings of her love and s}Tnpathy ! We have lived to learn the value of an act we H 2 148 GLENLONELY. once derided ; ay, despite of age, we can blush for our ingratitude noio^ as we did then^ while her beautiful daughter archly smiled at our utter confusion. Poor kind soul ! she has long since sunk into the arms of death, and her daughter is — foreign to our purpose. The case with Moggeridge was reversed : the kiss which Herbert gave was a gift unseen ; none were by to scoff or sneer ; it was received as given ; it worked with a charm more potent than the mystic bands. Moggeridge felt that he had a duty to perform ; and, bending on one knee, he seized on Herbert's hand, returned the gift, and swore amidst his tears to shield him as he would his bairn. Probably there had never been a moment when such devotion was more required. Her- bert Lindsay, gifted as he was above his fellows, was wantino^ in that strenmast ; and, if you did get your cannon up, they would be of 164 GLENLONELY. little use, unless you could make them traverse, like a compass, on the point of a pinnacle. No ; gunpowder, treason, or plot, could do little harm from the heights I speak of." It was thus that the Colonel, alternately playful and grave, continued to get some know- ledge of the haunts he intended to explore. Our opening chapter must have proved that he had not laboured in vain : the Albergo di Cas- tello was discovered. The village (if a few humble dwellings deserve the name) had for- merly been a town of some extent, and proba- bly was dignified by the title of " citta," when the neighbouring " Castel a Mare " stood in the pride of feudal power. It had followed the fate of the tower which once gave it strength ; and now took its name from the only tolerable house remaining, and which had been honoured with a title familiar to English ears, as the " Castle Inn." The landlord was the principal farmer of the district, and depended, as may be imagined, more on the produce of his farm than the profits of his inn. Colonel Murray had travelled too much to GLEyLONELY. 165 be dazzled from afar by the high-sounding titles of the quarters he sought : consequently, he was contented with accommodation something less than that of an English alehouse. Having arrived late at night, and commanded the best possible supper in the least possible time, he invited his host to partake of the best Faler- nian that he could produce. An officer who has served much acquires extraordinary tact in worming out what he wants to know, and deciding on measures he means to adopt. Before the bottle had ceased to bow its neck to the tumbler, all was arranged. '• !Mine host " was acquainted with Herbert Lindsay; a pea- sant was called in. He knew the tracks to Castel a Mare, and was instructed to depart at sunrise with a letter, which he should receive that night. When the office was proposed, and seconded by a promised reward, there were symptoms of hesitation on the part of the pea- sant : these, however, were soon removed by a few animated words from the host, and spoken in a dialect unknown to the Colonel. When they were alone, the doubts were easily ex- 166 GLENLONELY. plained: it seemed that Herbert's knowledge of mechanics, joined to his love of experimental philosophy, had gained him the reputation of one who dealt in magic ; still, love was mingled with the awe his name inspired. There were few around who had not tasted of his charity, and listened to the silver tones which made the offering doubly sweet. At first, the idea of entering within the castle walls — it might be, of witnessing some of the wonders magnified by the tongue of superstition — was a startling pro- position, and it required the eloquence of the host to overcome the peasant's fears. Had the Colonel followed the impulse of his yearnings, he would have accompanied the messenger ; but, thinking of Herbert's delicate state of health, he bridled his impatience, and determined to wait until his arrival was an- nounced. Having written to this effect, he re- tired to rest; and, while he was devising the means of shortening the tedium of delay, he hit upon the best, and sank into utter forgetfulness. The following morning, with the first return to living life, the busy brain resumed the work GLENLONELY. 167 which the night had interrupted ; or, what may be nearer to the truth, the brain had worked while the weary body slept, like the clock which pursues its appointed course, while the power which created the movement is powerless and still. Whether this be truth or not, the waking thoughts were the same as those which closed the Colonel's eyes. It appeared as if the train had been divided for an instant, and he actually started to find how many hours had been stolen in the depth of sleep. " I wish," said the Colonel, as he anxiously awaited an answer, " I wish that our hearts were as cool as our gunpowder, and could wait till the word is given to fire. What a train of idle hopes and fears might be spared ! what a waste of ammunition might be saved ! " It is curious to observe, how our reflections of to-day may often be traced to a source which is buried in the ruins of departed years ; yet, like the family likeness, lost for a time, and reappearing in the fourth or fifth generation, the origin is not to be mistaken. Colonel Mur- ray, while debating how four and twenty hours 168 GLENLONELY. might be killed, not unnaturally thought of the material so familiar to a soldier, and its ready obedience to the word of command; but the wish was no sooner uttered, than he stood by its long-forgotten source, and looked on the only woman he had ever found time to love. We err, perhaps, in using the word love, for, as we have said, he was wedded to his profes- sion; and, since polygamy is unwisely forbid- den, he certainly had no right to fall in love ; at least, his admiration was such, that he had forgotten the vow he had sworn to the goddess of war, to cleave to her alone. He thought, as most do, of marrying some odd day or other : he was hurried, as many are, to seal his fate at once, and decided on wearing that fetter, which, in the field or at the bar hampers the aspirant like a clog on the fetlock of a racer. If ever there were the plea of justification, the Colonel had it. The being who surprised his heart seemed born to be a soldier's wife. Purely Spanish on the mother's side, partly English on the father's, she inherited the bet- ter qualities of each nation. High and noble- GLENLONELY. 169 minded; in virtue stronger than the strength of passion ; formed for devotion, enterprise, or home ; feminine, yet active as the light ga- zelle, with eyes which sparkled with a hero- ine's fire when Spain, her wTongs or enemies, were named : change but the theme, the eye- lid fell, the battery was masked, the long and silken lashes veiled the beauteous orbs, where only dwelt the soul of love. Such was the being who, in secret, idolised the Colonel, and to whom he had resolved to surrender. " To-morrow," he said within himself, " we meet again, and to-morrow shall decide my fate." This determination was not attained without more thought than man in love is apt to bestow. His slender means, the trials of a soldier's wife, and a thousand consequences, made him pause for a time, but, once decided, he gave himself up to all the visions of happiness and love — if, indeed, as he had dared to hope, his affections were returned. The morrow came. The voice of music and the blaze of light announced the hour of VOL. I. I 170 GLENLONELY. revelry and dance. They met, and he imaged a thousand charms unseen till then; he had not dared till then to think how beautiful she was, how fervently he loved, as they mingled in the dance, or shrank from the festive crowd. He wished to tell the hopes which trembled on his lips. They had been the one absorbing thought throughout the day ; and thoughts had assumed involuntary words ; but now, alas ! when most he needed their assistance, they deserted the gallant Colonel, and the eyes alone continued faithful to his wishes. A Spanish woman is not slower than another in reading this language ; and these moments of silent admiration — this confession of the power she held over the heart of the brave — were more to Carlota de Basse- court, than language could have given. These moments, the happiest in her life, were rudely closed. " To arms ! to arms ! " was the cry v/hich closed their fleeting spell; and the warning drums, and the voice of bloody war, jarred, like the raven's croak, amidst the harmony of silent adoration. GLENLONELY. 171 For the first and the last time in Colonel Murray's life he shuddered at the soldier's summons. It was a moment of agony — of deep, untold regret. Trembling and pale, he seized Carlota's hand, and pressed it to his quivering lips. Again the summons pealed upon his ear; he dropped the hand which he had still re- tained, and said, " Carlota, we must part ! " The spell had passed which choked his ut- terance ; but, ah ! how changed the words from those his hopes had nursed ! how few in number, and yet how stern, how powerful in import ! It was a Roman fiat against the ob- ject best beloved; and she, the gentler spirit, listened with a courage worthy of a Roman's daughter. She raised her eyes, and read the soldier's self-possession ; the look commanding — brave — resolved. Kindling with enthusiasm, she said, " May this right hand, now linked with mine, be nerved with strength to slay ! May it grasp the sword till victory be won, and vengeance rendered to a righteous cause ! " The change was sudden — stern, if not ter- I 2 1 72 GLENLOXELY. rific : it may seem so to those who dwell in peace, and have never felt the scourge of war ; but at that dread moment there w^as as perfect harmony between the two, as when they drank the nectar of impassioned love. They met no more. Long ere the heroine's prayer was fulfilled on the field of Waterloo, she was sleeping in the silent grave. The Co- lonel's secret never passed his lips; nor was it likely to do so, when she, who alone could have prized its worth, was deaf alike to the roaring cannon or the voice of love — passion, fire, energy, and life. The features which a word could light, the eyes which flashed with angry rays when wrongs w^ere told, filled with the dew of heaven when misery was near, or glowed as softly as the setting sun when Murray's step was heard — all was dark and still ! She slumbered, to awake no more until that trumpet sounds which shall awake the dead, and call the good to everlasting peace. Within an hour from the warning of the beating drums. Colonel Murray was marching at the head of his regiment ; within six months GLENLOXELY. 173 Carlota de Bassecourt met a death worthy of the poet's pen in the days of chivahy and fame. One amidst the brave besieged in the city of , she passed from side to side, to tend the wounded and support the dying. \Miere danger threatened and the vahant drooped, she stood like a star of hght, and infused the spirit of her souL The city was saved : but, as the enemy retreated, one fatal shell was thrown, and, bursting at her feet, she fell in the arms of victory, and wore, in death, the crown which AA-as destined for the living and triumphant. Such was the tragedy the Colonel's simile had revived. We have endeavoured to be con- cise ; but memory and thought can play a thou- sand acts, ere one line be written. If we paused while a brave, a faithful servant travelled to his dying lord, not forgetting the reader's benefit within the given time, are we not doubly called upon to do as much for woman — for her, the heroine, whose bright, though brief careei', we have faintly drawn ? Yes ! well may we pause, if not to drop the I 3 174 GLENLONELY. silent tear, at least to pay the homage of some few moments passed in silent, solemn thought. Another duty stays the progress of our pen. When travelling in Spain, and collecting the varied threads of the tale we weave, we sojourned in the city whose name is blended with its he- roine. Our guide was an old soldier, maimed and disabled in his country's cause. After lead- ing us to the fortifications, and showing the points of obstinate attack, and still more de- termined defence, " Now," he said, " let me lead you to the spot where her ashes rest." We followed without uttering a vrord; and having threaded the windings of the narrow streets, came suddenly upon a fine old cathe- dral. Branching from its stately aisles, we en- tered a small chapel, in the centre of which was a monument, chaste and simple in the extreme, and sculptured in marble as pure and spotless as the beino: who slumbered beneath. We had remained some minutes to admire the design, when the guide silently pointed to an inscrip- tion, which had escaped our notice. ^Ve ap- proached, and read : — GLENLONELY. 175 TO CARLOTA DE BASSECOURT: THE YOUNG, THE BEAUTIFUL, AND BRAVE. BY A BRITISH OFFICER. Then and tliere we made a vow, that if we ever committed to paper the records we had gathered, this simple but touching epitaph should be transcribed, and given to the reader. It was to no purpose that we strove to satisfy our curiosity, and anxiously inquired the name of him who had paid this tribute. " No one," was the reply, " can answer that inquiry. He, in whom alone the truth reposed, is now no more; and, when alive, was sworn to secrecy. The whole was begun and completed through an aged priest, confessor to the De Bassecourt family." We need scarcely say, that had we succeeded, I 4 176 GLENLONELY. the reader should have shared in our inform- ation. As it is, we must leave him to his own surmises ; and, having fulfilled our vow, lose no time in proceeding with the gallant Colonel Murray. GLENLONELY. 177 CHAP. VI. ~ concluded. THE FRIENDS MEET. That cannot be the same ! or, if it be, Then sorrow is a thief who robs the cheek, And plucks the rose. She is an alchemist, And prodigal in art ; for she transmutes The warm and golden locks to silver'd snow. She is the husbandman of Father Time, And plants his tear-steeped furrows with a frown. My friend ? it cannot be ; you do but jest. A. Bird. If Colonel Murray's wish of subjecting the heart to the word of command — if the simile he imagined in the word " gunpowder " had fired a train of melancholy — in the end it fur- nished a resource for killing time. He gave the word to his dog — poured a bumper in his powder-flask — and, gun in hand, hurried to the mountain solitude. I 5 178 GLENLONELY. The exercise and air, the grandeur and va- riety of scenery, had the desired effect; his spirits rose, though he missed again and again. Whether it were the wind, the dust, or insects bent upon a watery grave, we cannot decide ; but a something there was which that day dim- med the Colonel's vision, and he shot worse than he had done since he first learnt to pull a trigger. As he was quite aware that his messenger could not return until the evening, he had or- dered his dinner, and promised to rejoin two Tuscan noblemen, who were on their way to Florence. The Italian hour for supper would serve for the Englishman's dinner, and by that time he hoped to have escaped from the cloud of melancholy which had shadowed his polite- ness in the morning. The travellers had in- vited him to join the breakfast table, and dis- played that courtesy and good-breeding which abound in Tuscany. The offer had been ac- cepted ; but conscience whispered that his mind had been too abstracted to allow of that return which their attentions deserved. GLENLONELY. 179 When the strong and light of heart are bowed by sickness or touched by sorrow, their eyes are opened to the mercies and blessings of God. For moments free from pain, for tears which bring relief to deep intensity of woe, they offer prayers of gratitude, forgotten and neglected w^hen every moment teemed with happiness and health. Such is the inconsistency of man ! and thus it is our ungrateful hearts are tutored in the school of suffering. It is then we learn the value of a gift withdrawn by Him who gives us all ! Strange, but not less true is the fact, tha man, for ever standing on the brink of eternity, w^alks as if he w^ere not doomed to fall : holding his span of life by sufferance and will, he lives as if the loan were immortality on earth. Like an Eastern prince, robed from his birth in lux- ury and gems, he wears his blessings with indif- ference, until the gem is lost, or it sinks within the gulph no eye can fathom, the dark, deep abyss of all perishable things. Such were the meditations of Colonel Murray, as he watched the glories of the sinking sun, and found him- I 6 180 GLENLONELY. self near one of those picturesque, though small and simple churches, which stud the land of Italy. His mind had been tuned to the calHng of re- ligion ; and, luckily for those who wish to enter and pay the offerings of prayer, the doors are ever open. It is only in England that we have to search for the sexton or clerk, and gain ad- mittance to the house of God by the payment of a fee. Here, the Colonel had only to hang his game-bag on a neighbouring olive, and leave it, with his gun, in the charge of his faithful Cato. Having done this, he drew aside the heavy curtain which protected the entrance, and was immediately struck by the contrast to the ex- terior : there was neither gaudiness nor splen- dour, but there was that which told at once of means and taste superior to the humble inha- bitants around. The evening rays glowed with a double warmth through windows of painted glass, and dimmed the ever burning lamp. The marble font, which held the holy water, was exquisitely chiselled : a picture of the pure Virgin realised all that the mind could image GLENLONELY. 181 of the Mother of Jesus. The altar was of wood, but exquisitely carved; over this, in a small recess, was a cross of ebony, bearing the figure of the Lamb of God, in the act of completing the sacrifice for the sins of man. The Colonel entered with the reverence due to the place of worship, and, unheeded by the few who were gathered together, he bent his knee, and pray- ed with fervour and devotion. If a soldier's prayers are generally short, we will not believe them to be less sincere, or less acceptable. The Colonel, though the last to enter, was about to be the first to retire, when his attention was rivetted by a figure, which, till then, had escaped his notice. The figure in question had been partly concealed by one of the rude and mas- sive columns which supported the roof: rising, however, from the steps which led to the altar, and shrouding itself after the manner of the country, which gives to the cloak the folds and falling of the Roman toga, it approached nearer to the crucifix of which we have spoken, bowed the head, and seemed to be wrapt in contemplation. 182 GLENLONELY. Our allusion to the toga must have left little question as to the sex of the figure ; indeed, in the Colonel's present mood, we doubt whether an angel in petticoats would have won his re- gards. Tlie man on whom he so intently gazed might have passed for fifty with a light ob- server : the high commanding brow stood in bold relief; the locks, which once had clustered on its beautiful outline, had passed away ; and those which time, sickness, and sorrow had spared, were changing from the sunny hues of youth. The eyes, full and deeply set, beamed from their dark retreat, contrasting strangely with the pallid cheek. But for the light and life within the sockets of the eye, one might have deemed the head some marble bust of Roman sage. The arrangement of a cloak — advancing a few steps, and standing in the act of contemplation, — are little in themselves ; but in some there is an innate dignity of manner which gives a grace to all they say or do. " It must be Herbert," said the Colonel, half aloud. He was about to spring towards his more than brother, when he checked his inten- GLENLONELY. 183 tion, on seeing that the lips were moving, as they breathed a prayer to heaven. Again he doubted the identity — it could not be; and the image of Herbert Lindsay rose to recollec- tion as when they last bade adieu. He saw him radiant with youth — his chestnut locks bright as the hopes which lit his features. This could not be the same ! While these reflections were passing in his mind, the figure once more bowed in reverence, and, with slow and measured steps, approached the entrance to the church. Before the curtain was raised, the arm was extended to the font ; and that commanding brow, which at first caught the Colonel's eye, was signed with the sign of the cross, and the figure disappeared. Colonel Murray had watched in silence. Had he been certain it was Herbert Lindsay who stood before him, he could not have moved. He would have felt it profanation to have obtruded earthly affections on one who communed with his God. Again, the signing with the cross was a Catholic rite, which increased his doubts ; and had these doubts been absent, this simple but impressive action was performed with such 184 GLENLONELY. solemnity and grace, that he was rivetted, as Raphael would have been, in looking at the beauty of the living picture. He, however, could not remove the first im- pressions, and he determined to decide his doubts by the aid of a clearer light. Without stopping to perform that rite which had, for the first time, won his admiration, he hurried to the door, with the intention of overtaking the object of his awakened curiosity. His speed was needless. On leaving the church, he be- held the same figure, standing with his arms folded on his breast, and evidently charmed by the fidelity of Cato, who guarded the empty bag and double barrel. The poor dog would have been better pleased if his master's prayers had been shorter than they were, and the ap- proach of a stranger added to his anxiety. Though his anger was awakened, he was much too sagacious to leave his post. To use an ex- pressive Devonshire word, "a gurgling" in his throat gave warning of attack, which awaited any who dared to lay hand upon his charge. The nearer the intruder came, the more fre- GLENLONELY. 185 quently his eyes glanced towards the church, and the fore-paws, alternately raised and drop- ped, bore witness to his throbbing hopes and tremblinof raoje. The instant his master was seen, his eyes danced \^'ith joy : he ran to meet the steps which advanced too slowly for his wishes, then suddenly returned to his trust, and fiercely threatened the approaching enemy. The stranger smiled, and every doubt was cleared ! Through all the changes that time and woe had worked, the Colonel recognised his exiled friend. A word sufficed to calm his dog. The stranger turned — the voice, the features, step, and bearing, revealed at once his friend of early days. They rushed to each other's arms, and embraced, like brothers ren- dered from the grave of years. We doubt whether any human being ever felt twice alike. If a man could be hanojed a dozen times over, and live again to spin his yarn, we doubt whether he would not tell twelve different tales of his launching into eter- nity. We live in the midst — we are a part of — perpetual change and countless combinations. 186 GLENLONELY. In the rarest and most common-place events, how can we ever feel twice alike? Fix, for instance, on a spot commanding one of the finest views on earth; choose the same month, hour, all that can bring the remembrance of to-day to that of yesterday ; think of all that must combine within ourselves and nature, of all that is ever changing, and we must allow that it cannot be. Do what we will, there must be comparative degrees ; and thus it is that our feeling may be deemed capricious. Napo- leon wept over the wounds of one poor suffer- ing man, and looked unmoved on the blood of millions. In a mind like his — in the records of such a life — who can say how much com- bined to cause those solitary tears ? Nay, since we illustrate by extremes, who shall say all that combined — how many hidden springs burst on the memory of our departed friend, the kind- hearted elderly lady to whom we formerly al- luded — when we endured a shower-bath of tears ? We doubt the possibility of their recur- rence, though we certainly never allowed the opportunity. Ungrateful as we were, at future GLENLONELY. 187 meetings we stood at the freezing point. He is a fool who sits a second night beneath a drip- ping lamp. — Our motives for this little philo- sophic wandering were two-fold : we wished to show that the deep and changing whirlpool of thought and feeling is all but unfathomable, and also we wished that Colonel Murray should be judged aright. Had we said that he was touched to tears, without admitting our fair readers to the recesses of his heart, he might have fallen in their estimation ; as it is, they will readily perceive, that if Herbert Lindsay took to himself the whole merit of the Colonel's emotion, he erred. Had Carlota de Bassecourt never lived and died — had not his heart been tuned to sadness by the spu'it of the dead — he had not wept upon the shoulder of his friend. He perceived the danger of his position, and made a diversion in favour of his game-bag and gun, at the same time introducing the devoted Cato, and pointing out his perfect training. Ah ! " said Herbert, " I see, Georgie, you are still the same, subjecting the affections of 188 GLENLONELY. all with whom you live, and preserving the freedom of your own." This was said with a melancholy smile, and it was easy to trace in the words the supposed contrast between themselves. It was a ran- dom shot, but Colonel Murray felt its force. Returning the caresses of his dog, and grasping the hand of his friend, he parried the remark, and said, " You, and even Cato, can speak to the contrary. I have not that happy indifference you imagine." How far this was an evasion Herbert Lind- say did not pause to consider ; but there was a something in the Colonel's tone deeper than anticipated ; he felt that there was a secret, but one of which he had not dreamt. As it were by mutual consent the conversation changed. The Colonel pressed Herbert to return with him to the Albergo di Castello for the night, and, in his anxiety to persuade, forgot that the only three beds were occupied. Herbert Lindsay gently declined the request. The flush of animation passed from his cheek ; and again he stood the same pale and care-worn figure GLEXLONELY. 189 which attracted the Colonel's attention in the church. "No," he said, "that may not be; you, Georgie, are the only being whose presence would not afflict and irritate. Like the wounded deer, I have flown the covert of my home. I sought the herd of men, but I found no sym- pathy from them. What cares the busy world for the misery of one ? We had no feeling in common. Like the deer, I was repulsed and driven from my fellows, to die in solitude." " Herbert," said the Colonel, " my dear Herbert, I forbid such gloomy views, but to- night I will obey; let me, at least, accompany you wherever you are going." And calling to mind the distance of any habitation, he added, with surprise, " And where is that ? " " Home," answered Herbert, " for the lonely spot which the wounded seek to die in is their home. You point to the setting sun; I read your fears ; but the crags, the valleys, the olive, and the pine, will guide me like the living. They are my familiars ; and I know them, as a mother would her child, under every change 190 GLENLONELY. of feature. The stars will not fail me to-night ; and if they did, I am provided with the means of light ; and my Highland pouch, which I carry ' for auld lang syne,' makes a capital match- box." " Well," said the Colonel, " lead the way, and let us march together. Cato will be our advanced, or rear-guard, as we may wish." " To-night you promised to obey," replied Herbert, " and a soldier shall not plead the cause of friendship for the breach of promise. No, Georgie, you must return to the travellers, and redeem your pledge. To-morrow, at day- break, I will despatch a guide; to-morrow, I hope to be better prepared to enjoy your com- pany; and to-morrow, as you would say, your quarters shall be ready, and you shall drill me, if you can, to cheerfulness and youth." " I will," said the Colonel with warmth; "yes, Herbert, we will both grow young, as we live upon the days of our boyhood. But why should we part ? A warm welcome is the best quarters to a soldier's mind." " Remember your promise," said Herbert GLENLONELY. 191 Lindsay, smiling ; " I am fit for little but the sleep of death. My strength of feeling rebels against my wishes. It will not travel with my strength of body. The one is passing to decay ; the other lives young, powerful as ever, and seems to gather life, like floAvers above the grave. To-morrow the rebellious shall be pu- nished, if my prayers are heard for the bless- ing of repose ; and you shall see this poor frame rise like a giant refreshed." The Colonel urged his request no more. Though the last rays of the sun tinged even the pale cheek of Herbert with a warmer hue, it also showed a hectic tinge, the tell-tale banner of the suffering mind — of fell disease, which lurks within the body. With the hope of meet- ing on the following day, they parted for the night. We began the chapter, by alluding to the magic charm contained in the number 3 : if, in confirmation of the fact, we mentioned the three united kingdoms of England, Scotland, and Ireland — \t is just possible that evil- disposed persons may have doubted our faith 192 GLENLONELY. on the subject. To confess the honest truth, we fear there was a wavering, a shadow of scepticism in our hearts ; if such there were, it is past ; our behef is firm, clear, and unalter- able. Our third attempt has succeeded — the friends have met! But, in direct opposition to our intention and determination, this has been effected only by dividing the sixth chapter into 3. Could Cocker demand more perfect proof? GLEXLONELY. 193 CHAP. VII. THE SKELETON GIANT. Like tliLinder bolts the rocks are hurl'd Against the rebel race ; Convulsions shake the reeling world, And move its trembling base. Earth gasps for breath, her caverns yawn. As falls each vanquish'd son ; The gods, triumphant, laugh with scorn : The victory is won ! JVars of the Gods, Colonel Murray reached the Albergo di Castello in good time for the appointed supper. On his way thither he had ample opportunity of reviewing the feehngs of the day ; and, sincerely anxious as he had been to accompany Herbert Lindsay, he was not sorry for the opportunity of rallying his forces. Man with his fellow-man is so trained to play the hypo- crite, that he always feels a something like VOL. I. K 194 GLENLONELY. shame if his better feelings shine through the mask of habit, or if, in the language of the world, he betrays the shadow of weakness. Should the reader ever sin after this fashion, we can tell him that the best remedy in the world is the necessity of playing the agreeable to those we neither know nor care about. To make the cure effectual, the strangers must be foreigners, since good breeding enjoins us to speak their language instead of our own, if we can ; and if we cannot do this perfectly, so much the better. The Colonel was a better Spanish than Italian scholar, and, consequently, his attention was more completely engaged in keeping up the conversation. His companions were men of intelligence, and it was late before any of the party thought of retiring to rest. At length their discourse was interrupted by the return of the Colonel's messenger. '•Here's your letter, Signor," said Luigi, extending his hand with the courage of a schoolboy who expects a salutation from his master's cane. '' How is this?" asked the Colonel, affecting GLEXLOXELY. 195 surprise, and making no advances to receive the proffered gift. " My letter, do you say, Luigi?" " Yes, Signor ; the lord of the castle had taken one of his wild flights, and no one could say at what hour he would return." " But why not remain until he did return ? " asked the Colonel. Luigi hesitated, and muttered some Italian proverb about evil birds which fly by night, and adding more audibly, " Because I thought you insisted on an answer to-night ; and — and " " And," said the Colonel, " that is why you have not brought one, and why, to speak truth, you would be rather looking on the remains of our supper-table, than sleeping beneath the roof of Castel a Mare." " Assuredly," said Luigi ; " il Signor is always right; and it is a pleasure to wish him the best good night, and the happiest of dreams." It was impossible to resist this well-turned compliment, dressed as it was in the magic of K 2 196 GLENLONELY. the lingua Tuscana, The Colonel extended his hand for the useless letter, and told Luigi to clear the table and bring the lamps for bed, — the same in form as those which, some two thousand years ago, lit the Pompeians to their cabin-like cribs in the wall ! The promised guide arrived before the Colonel had concluded the toilet to which our readers have been admitted at the commence- ment of our tale. The philosophical wander- ings which had followed the meeting of yester- day were as good as a walk before breakfast. The Colonel descended with an excellent appetite ; and the guide was substantially refreshed ere the travellers had finished their morning repast. All who have visited the Continent — and who has not ? — must know that the word "breakfast" is a meagre definition of the meal where wine is the sub- stitute for tea, and hot meat for toast. The French, who have the art of powerfully de- fining petty differences, express it admirably by "a la fourchette" We, who contend that every child ought to speak its mother tongue. GLENLONELY. 197 were on the point of saying, " before they had forked their breakfast ; " but some floating recollections of converting mine into thine, expressed by the word " fork," made us hesitate. We must leave it to the reader to say whether we may or may not beat the French by merely changing one word. If, as we fear, the word has been employed to denote extraction from the pocket of one man by the hand of another, there is a something so original in the comparison of the protruded fingers to our two-pronged fork — the seizure of that by which they live is so happily imaged — that we would on no account rob those talented exclusives, our English pickpockets. When the knives and forks had ceased, the Colonel seized the hands of his companions, and avoided the continental adieu, — a kindness at all times re- volting to our English notions, more especially when the moustaches are anointed with fat and oil. The guide undertook to carry the knap- sack; the Colonel took his gun, and gave the word in Italian ; Cato echoed the command in K 3 198 GLENLONELY. liis language, and away they marched for the Exile's home. It is lucky that every thing has a name ; it is the stepping-stone of talk ; there is no getting on without it, whether we want a slice of plum- pudding or to know our man. " What is your name?" inquired the Colonel, as soon as they had fairly started. " Giovannino, signor, at your service," re- plied the guide, a youth of some sixteen years, active as a chamois, and apparently intelli- gent. " Well, Giovannino," said the Colonel, " you have not the fears of Luigi ?" " Why should I?" asked Giovannino in return, and indulged in a hearty laugh at the expense of the terrified messenger; " not I, signor, and why should I ? " he repeated. This mode of answering a question by asking another is generally a foil ; we, who are allowed to peep behind the curtain, can readily explain the wherefore by informing the reader, that Giovannino had maliciously played the magi- cian's imp, and worked upon the ignorance and GLENLOXELY. 199 superstition of Luigi. As the Colonel was in the dark, and unwilling to suggest any reasons why he should be alarmed, he pleaded that con- venient confession, " Don't know." " Not know !" asked Giovannino in a graver tone : " I thought my master was your friend. He, whose kindness saved my father's life and reared the helpless, would not injure the son who can now serve him in return. The wildest and weakest in nature are wiser than Luigi : the birds pick the crumbs from his table, and the hare and the hawk will feed from his hand. May the blessed Virgin shield his life !" And with these words the guide hurried three crosses into one, as he passed a nook in the rock which sheltered a small image of the Virgin Mary and the infant Christ. Of all the pleasures on earth, which is so pure and great as to hear the praises of those we love ? It is the tribute we would pay in person, but delicacy forbids ; it is the homage we would offer through the ears of others, but we fear they would deem us blind, or heed not the value of the gem we prize. Giovannino was too young K 4 200 GLENLONELY. and fervent in his gratitude to nurse such doubts: he spoke from the heart, and expected the Colonel to feel with his feelings : for once he was not mistaken. The farther they advanced, the more apparent was the necessity of a guide : their path was the antipodes of " wilds immeasurably spread : *' rugged and abrupt, fancy could not picture the change from one angle to another. At one time they tracked the bed of a torrent; at an- other, skirted some precipice, at the foot of which its gathered waters roared. The valley of eternal shadow; the mountain with its river and fan- tastic pines ; the ruins of the avalanche, with here and there some fairy tufts of green which seemed too bright for mortal feet, each in their turn were passed. In one respect it did resemble Goldsmith's masterly description. There was ever some one over towering point, which seemed to retreat as the travellers approached ; it brooked no rival near, and mocked at measurement. The way, though difficult, did not appear " to lengthen as they went ; " they had found a theme equally grateful to both, the beneficence and GLEXLONELY. 201 charities of Herbert Lindsay, his pursuits, his studies, and relaxations ; each and all had their interest. When the Colonel heard how widely his goodness extended, and thought of the value of such a life, he could not refrain from alluding to the danger he must have incurred last night, and expressed his wonder at his safe arrival at the castle. Giovannino did not appear to have entertained the same fears. " It is nothing, signer, for our noble Lord : he has peopled the woods, the val- leys, crags, and waterfalls ; he walks like the king of an invisible race; they obey his call, and keep his steps from erring. Wild as our path has been, each turn is noted like the sailor's chart; 'tis here the fairy king has raised his throne ; in yonder cavern, when the moon is bright, he banquets by the ray the crystals steal from heaven. This turf, which now we tread, is where his subjects dance their magic ring. Beyond the cataract we passed, and where the waters rest in deep repose, the river god has fixed his home, and nymphs " " Halt,f cried the Colonel, seeing they had K 5 20*2 GLEXLOKELY. lost all vestige of a track ; " where are you wandering with your nymphs and fairies ? One ■\vould think you lived with one of your old Italian poets instead of a brother Englishman. Do you see w^e have descended once more to the trackless pebbles of a torrent course? How shall we ever scale these blackened slippery rocks which hem us in ? And to my eyes, Giovannino, this looks more like the entrance to the shades belov/ than any of your fairy halls." But Giovannino was right; in adopting the wild fancies of his lord, he had not forgotten the path which they served to illustrate. Edu- cation had removed the ignorance on which the power of priesthood is based ; he had not the low superstitions of his class, but abounded in the poetic spirit, which, in Italy, grows wild ; his mind seized upon the visions of Herbert Lindsay, and turned them to good account ; like his lord, he knew nature by heart. " Wait a little, my signer, and you will see," said Giovannino, still leading the way with the confidence of one who knew he was right. The pass which they had entered became less GLENLONELY. 2^93 and less promising ; every turn seemed to give one hundred feet in height, and lessen the width of the channel they trod ; in a few yards more, the rushing waters all but occupied the narrowed space ; the dripping weeds supplied the sullen splashing of a thunder storm ; and, on looking up, the arching rocks seemed as if about to close like a grave upon the living. " Wait a little," again repeated Giovannino, as he saw the Co- lonel obliged to do so, and doubting where to put his foot to keep himself clear of the stream ; " there, signor, and here, and there, and now here, and there again," he repeated, as he perched upon bits of rock, which, to the inex- perienced, looked black and glossy as the waters themselves. The Colonel made no remark ; he had threaded the passes in Spain, beset by a thousand dangers ; here he anticipated none : there could be no treachery, no enemy to dread ; it was not fear that he felt, but the human' voice was in discord with the scene ; he was awed to silence ; nature, stern, terrific, and wonderful, was telling of creation ; of that Hand by which the rocks were rent in twain, and mountains K 6 204 GLENLONELY. lifted from the bottom of the sea. Even Gio- vannino, used as he was to the pass, ceased to play the cicerone, and appeared to feel with the Colonel that words would be misplaced ; dark- ness and mystery spoke for themselves. What- ever might have been the thoughts such language inspired, they were presently diverted by rays of light which fell on one side of the opening chasm ; the drops which gathered on the weed stole the colours from the rainbow, and fell like diamonds in the stream. On proceeding a little further they suddenly emerged, and came upon an opening which formed an irregular circle of some two hundred feet in diameter ; such, how- ever, was the height of the perpendicular rocks, that the Colonel felt as though he were stand- ing at the bottom of some gigantic shaft. As he raised his eyes and saw the blue sky, he drank deeply of the breath of heaven, as newly born from the mountain womb. Giovannino's eyes regained their laughing light, as he said, " Behold, signer, we stand in the " Devil's Caldron ! " " The devil we do !" said the Colonel, as he GLENLONELY. 205 surveyed their position, and got clear of the river which crossed the centre. " And what should we do if the caldron filled, and the waters boiled ? " " Do !" replied Giovannino ; " do a purga- tory for future poets : we should be purged by water instead of fire. I should think," he archly added, as he thought of his master's ex- perimental models, " the devil must have learnt ere this the power of steam." The Colonel could not refrain from a smile at the playful fancy of a modern Papist; " March of intellect ! " he muttered to himself; and, pointing to the rocks which bristled like a host of spears, " I think, Giovannino, we should soon be done to rags ; but having no wish to make the experiment, I should like to know how we are to get out. Your mountain lakes are apt to lie in ambush, and burst like a water spout." " There is no danger to-day," said Giovan- nino ; " and behold, signor, don't you see our path?'' Colonel Murray possessed that qualification '206 GLENLONELY. which they say is essential to a General : he had a good eye for escape, when necessary. Again he glanced round the sides of the caldron, beginning with the chasm by which they had entered, and there he finished, but could detect no possible egress. The only other opening was a dark cavern, which yawned, like a lion's mouth, with granite teeth, and poured forth the river we have mentioned. " I see but yonder cavern," answered the Colonel, " and that appears but a forlorn hope." " Not quite, my signor," said Giovannino : " we shall escape through the giant's ribs, the skeleton of one who warred with Heaven, and was crushed to death beneath the falling mass." There was no mistaking the allusion ; though the Colonel was no deep classic, the heathen fables were much too amusing to be forgotten. Besides, war, whether of Titans, giants, demi- gods, or men, was quite in his way : in Italy, sculpture and painting make them familiar to all, even the uneducated. The rocks which formed the entrance to the cavern might well be likened to the ribs of GLENLONELY. 207 some mountain whale or fabled giant. Geolo- gist or not, there can be few who have never remarked such curved and fantastic structure. In this case, the image was unusually striking. Earth, in her convulsive throes, seemed to have gasped for breath, and rent the mountain from its centre : again it closed ; the rocky strata, curved in some former agony, met with the shock of falling worlds. The arch, once perfect, was splintered and displaced, and the crum- bling key- stone was supplied by the reunion of the mass above. As the cavern was approached, each succeeding stratum was seen in perspective ; their span at first increasing and afterwards diminishing, till the eye could perceive no fur- ther. As the light fell upon the ribs (for the blind would have felt Giovannino's image of the skeleton), they appeared to have been bleached by the waters, which, at times, had nearly choked the passage. This, added to the dark- ness between each division, showed the regularity of curve which each retained. A poet would have imaged some earth-born monster warring *208 GLENLONELX. against the gods above, and crushed by the mountain falling on his chest. Colonel Murray, lucky man, was no poet; and, despite his bumps of pugnacity, he did not quite conjure up such extremities of war- fare. He certainly was struck by the similitude, but beyond this his brains were busied in de- vising how they were to escape through the jaws of dt^ath. There needed little of poetical fancy for this idea ; for, above the cavern, there was one bold and projecting arch, larger and less injured than those below, which would have made a fittinfy jaw for such a carcass. " I see," said the Colonel, who was some- what tired of the sublime, " that your giant's head is gone, and I think it time that we should follow." " By the body of Bacchus ! I hope we shan't," exclaimed Giovannino; "for here the monster fell, and the faithless earth sank with the weight of his head, while his limbs were buried by the angry gods. What else, my signor, could GLENLONELY. 209 have formed the * Devil's Caldron,* as our peasants term it ? " The Colonel, with all his science in mining, counter-mining, explosion, and projectiles, did not immediately see the drift of Giovannino's question. His fire had been more effective with a quicker return ; still, however, it told, when he said, **' Yes, yes, I see now; I forgot for the moment, that the hotter the climate the thicker the skull. No wonder your giant's head was harder than the rocks, and sank like a Dardanelle shot through a seventy-four." The simile was Greek, or rather Turkish, to Giovannino ; but he understood that his pet giant was quizzed at the expense of his coun- try. Ridicule is no argument, but often more powerful. Having no answer at hand, he seemed willing to escape. " Well, Signor," he said, " we will proceed, if you please." The Colonel nodded assent, and looked with no slight curiosity to the proceedings of his guide. Giovannino, diverging from the river, which commanded the best view of the giant's interior, made to the apparently solid rock, 210 GLENLONELY. some fifty yards from the mouth of the cavern. Here a detached fragment, chipped, we suppose, by some bump of the falling skull, concealed a hole comfortably sized for a mastiff's door-way, but somewhat inconvenient for man, who is or- dered to walk erect. Such, however, was the only egress, unless the travellers waded the waters, which occupied the giant's thorax, or wind-pipe, as Giovannino might prefer. " This way," said Giovannino ; and he shot like a pole-cat into its hole. In an instant he was out of sight, leaving the Colonel no time for question, or doubt, as to the unpromising approach. It is always wise to bow to circum- stances, especially when they may lead to some- thing better. Colonel Murray, therefore, re- solved to follow ; and having called to mind the picture in his family Bible, where Nebuchad- nezzar is in the act of grazing, he did his best to imitate the monarch's position, and thus won his way, though not without a scratch or two, in person, gun, and unmentionables. If Giovannino "had been nettled at the Colo- nel's jest, he was soon revenged, and it was GLEXLOXELY. 211 now his tu t o laugh. The sudden transition fi'om hght to darkness prevented the Colonel from seeing. In such cases, imagination makes us fancy we feel our approach to solidity, before we actually touch it ; and thus influenced, the Colonel proceeded with his head somewhat lower than his shoulders, fearing every moment to knock his brains against the jagged roof. The canine position is ill-suited for human talk; but the surliest of dogs never growled more cordially than Colonel Murray, and he only wished for the power of sending Giovan- nino to the black hole for a week. These wishes were intercepted by a smothered laugh. " Ah, my signor," said a voice behind him, " you crawl so well, I should never have known you had passed me, had you not muttered to the stones. But why not stand up ? there is plenty of height after you enter." And with these words Giovannino came up to the Colo- nel, whose vision was adapting itself to the doubtful light. When he once more stood up, like a man, he felt inclined to vent his anger upon Giovannino; but his natural good humour 212 GLENLONELY. could not help laughing at the absurdity of his needless penance ; and he contented himself with explaining, that a guide should not only lead, but keep in the way. " Without doubt," said Giovannino ; " have no fear, I am ever at your side, when the path will carry double;" — and to prove his words he took the Colonel by the hand. A few steps brought them to the edge of the river. Having passed, as a surgeon would say of a ball, between the third and fourth rib, into the heart of the cavern, their progress was easy; they had only to thread the skeleton, and keep to a track some two or three feet above the water. After advancing some way in the bowels of the earth, the arching rocks gradually con- tracted until they suddenly ceased. Once more the Colonel enjoyed the luxury of breathing freely ; and if, upon his entrance, he recurred to the punishment of the Hebrew king, it may be easily imagined, that the same series of illustrations presented the joy of Jonas, when he escaped from the belly of the whale. The scenery assumed a different feature: GLENLONELY. 213 though the face of the rock from which they had emerged was as precipitous on this side as on the other, there was less of stern and overwhelming grandeur. There was plenty of elbow-room, right and left; there were shelving hills, covered with turf of brightest green, soft as velvet, and shorn by the grazing flocks. The Colonel feasted his eyes, and thought he had never looked upon a green so beautiful and soothing, thous^h doubtless this feelinor arose from the re- lief it afforded ; and more, perhaps, from the countless fragments of white rock, which seemed to have pierced, without deranging the turf; to have sprung, like the snow-drop or lily, as the produce befitting the regions around. It was aptly termed, " The Valley of Rocks." Immediately before them was a winding river, which, judging from its idle and endless curves, seemed determined to linger, as long as might be, in a spot so calm and lovely. Where the Colonel and his guide were yet proceeding, its course was confined between two ridges of smooth rock, in which the waters made trial of their strength, and were prepared for the pass 214 GLENLONELY. they were about to force. When they had ar- rived at the extreme point of these ridges, Gio- vannino directed the Colonel's attention to the course they had pursued, and said, " There, at least, my signor, are the thigh and shin bones of my giant." " Yes," answered the Colonel, who was in- stantly struck with the skeleton form of the whitened ridges ; " and this proves the truth of my remark, that your giant's heels were higher than his head." " True, signor," said Gio- vannino, laughing ; "no wonder either, seeing how he is always drinking." This innocent sort of topsy-turvy joke put Giovanni no into high spirits. He had had his revenge, dear to Italians, and others too, and retorted joke for joke. It were hard to say who had the best of it : w^e, who are too learned to be merry and wise, consider that victory ho- vered between the doubtful decision of " heads or tails." The Colonel and Giovannino were both wise in their way, and, each being pleased with him- self, continued their journey most agreeably. GLENLOXELY. 215 The Valley of Rocks extended for upwards of a mile, when the ascent became more steep. The mountains assumed the mastery; the velvet turf was seen only in patches : and, presently, it dis- appeared. While they were following the windings of the river, the Colonel had ample time to think over the scenes they had passed, and admire the majestic walls of granite, between which, it seemed, they were about to travel. This can- not, he thought, be the route which Lindsay pursifed the night before ; and he questioned his guide as to the fact. " To speak the truth," said Giovannino, '• my signor is right. There is a path on the heights, but this is the grandest way, and due to your excellency's rank. We rarely have visitors to whom I can show the honours, and " " And so," said the Colonel, taking the words from his mouth, and looking down on his tat- tered garments, " you evince your homage by making me go on my knees, and work my way like a mole." Giovannino put on his most penitent look, 216 GLENLOXELY. and swore by a string of saints, that it was out of respect to his excellency's honour. And he spoke the truth. Proud of his country's beau- ties, which his lord would admire for hours to- gether, he was actuated by the same motives of pride and respect which inspire the porter of some old and rarely visited baronial hall. Be it wet or dry, hot or cold, if the visitor be deemed worthy, he must wait till the rusty locks, bohs, and bars are removed from the great gates, rather than be suffered to enter at once by the open wicket. The motive vms the same, but the openings were reversed. This the Colonel felt, and begged for the future to be welcomed with less of such infernal state magnificence. Here we must rest awhile, and allow the Colonel and Giovannino to recruit their strength. As yet Colonel Murray had incurred no immi- nent peril; but there was a mysterious and awful, if not appalling grandeur, in the scenes he had passed, which drew forth and rivetted his feel- ino;s. He was glad to rest, and we who, un- GLENLONELY. 217 known and invisible, have trodden widi his steps, are glad to relax. "VMiile the Colonel stretches his limbs on a mossy couch, and surveys the contents of Giovannino's wallet, we will mount our Arab grey, and gallop for an appetite, to recruit the exhaustion of sublimity. As Commander Ross said, " What a pity we cannot live without eating !" VOL. I. 218 GLENLONELV. CHAP. VIII. THE MOUNTAIN FLOOD. They both are terrible But, in comparison, the rage of fire Is merciful : its cloven tongues are heard, Its wings of light and breath of smoke proclaim The dread approach ; but, when the waters burst Their boundary, the fell destroyer mocks The racer's speed, and, ere the warning's heard, Cities are swept away — all, all is lost ! A Bird. A CAPTIOUS and ill-tempered critic might sug- gest tliat, after an Italian breakfast, the Co- lonel needed no refreshment on his march. To the best of our recollection, we have only re- lated his manoeuvre to escape the salutation of his anointed companions. What share he bore in the action is untold : as well as the immea- GLENLONELY. 219 surable distance he had travelled. If this will not appease the critic, we must request him to live upon mountain air during a walk of some six or eight hours ; and, if hunger do not tame the beast to our way of thinking by two p. m., we know nothing about the matter. But we had a weiglitier reason than this for the Colonel's halt — a motive which would weigh down all the critics in this world, or that below: we had that reason which keeps the very world in motion — self. It suited our convenience : we were weary, if he were not. We foresaw approaching trials, of which neither Giovannino nor the Colonel dreamed ; and we wished, if possible, not to break down on the way. Thanks to our Arab, and dinner, we hope to avoid this accident. " Well," said the Colonel, "let us move on at our ease : you say we have no more giants to win our way through ? " " None, Signor," said Giovannino : " his Holiness the Pope might drive along our pre- sent road." " Indeed I " answered the Colonel, " then I L 2 220 GLENLONELY. hope it is the right one ; for St. Peter himself could not turn in it." " Except by a miracle," said Giovannino, with a grave face, and a smile in the corner of his mouth. " You forget that a good Catholic can always back out of a scrape." " And a heretic too," said the Colonel, " so long as he keeps on his legs, which, I trust, will be my mode of conveyance in the high roads of a country like this." The road was certainly not bad, though somewhat questionable for a carriage. It fol- lowed the windings of the river, and had occa- sionally served for its bed. In one part it was formed of hard compact sand, left, probably, by the floods of melted snow ; in another, it passed over rocks. Macadamised after Nature's fashion, and worn smooth by the passage of mountain pebbles. On the opposite side, the waters bathed the feet of rocky heights ; which, on the right and left, were all but perpendicular. It often, too often, occurs that, when we come upon scenery worthy of intense and undivided attention, we can give little, if any. The GLEXLONELY. 221 weaker are exhausted, soul and body, before the point of view is attained : the stronger are en- gaged in self-preservation. How can a man extend his thoughts beyond his toes, when one false step may whirl him headlong to eternity ? Here, however, the Colonel found a safe foot- ing, and was at liberty to enjoy, to the fullest, the ever-changing beauties of the pass. The day was peculiarly calm and bright : the winds were hushed ; and the cloudless sky appeared so still, that it seemed as if the sun were fixed, or the earth at rest. The waters alone disturbed the sense of deep repose: they pursued their course in wayward mood ; now clear and peaceful as the eye of innocence; now roused to anger by opposing blocks, which stood, like watch-towers, in the silvered stream. The Colonel had ceased to chat with Gio- vannino : he was amply amused with building castles in the air, and more substantially than most — there was no want of material here. He had only to perfect the ruined battlements on high, plant a few cannon, and the picture was complete. Again, his fancy turned to holier L 3 222 GLENLONELY. works, and built cathedrals with a churchman's zeal. The pinnacles and spires were there ; the fret-work of the Gothic arch : remove the shrubs which blossomed on the roof, or climbed profanely on the walls, and again the image was complete. Colonel Murray's mind was decidedly anti-poetical : but here Imagination could not help itself — Nature put it into lead- ing strings. An alderman would have turned from turtle-soup, and improved on the towers of London and Westminster Abbey. Giovannino had been too well tutored to allow of his interrupting the Colonel's medita- tions. It is difficult to say how long these might have continued ; or how far Palladio and Wren might have been outrivalled, but for a sudden and unlooked-for interruption. The travellers had continued to ascend, while the river descended with a rapidity inversely proportioned to their progress. It is only in Ireland that w^aterruns uphill; and even there it finds its level — when it can. The ascent which they were now pursuing was so gradual, that the lazy stream glided in harmony with the m.onastic walls on which the Colonel's niind w^ GLENLONELY. 2*23 at work. A bold projecting angle, some dis- tance in advance, served as a pier, and gave the waters a reprieve from tumult and passion. The Colonel, relieved from the toil of ascend- ing, felt that he moved without an effort, and drank of the holy calm which seemed to dwell with all things. He had stopped to gather some flowers, that grew upon the bank, and was attracted by the colours of a splendid trout, which, like himself, appeared to have fed most satisfactorily, and was now indolently alive to the luxury of living. While gazing on its beauty, and thinking how happily a monk might have fasted on such a prize, a low rumbling noise broke upon his ear, like distant thunder. Another moment, it seemed like the crash of mountains burst by volcanic fire : then a pause ; till the answering echoes passed it like a watchword of warning. "What's that?" asked the Colonel, turning quickly to his guide ; but Giovannino appeared too much astounded and perplexed to reply. " What 's that ? " he repeated ; " thunder ?" "No, Signor.'* L 4 224 GLENLONELY. "Earthquake?" " It cannot be," said Giovannino, looking at the bright blue sky ; " it is not possible." Before these hasty words were spoken, the shock was renewed with redoubled power, and, borne by the echoing mountains, it approached in one continued and terrific peal. " Speak, Giovannino," said the Colonel, in a sterner tone ; " what can it be?" Giovannino made no answer. Pale, and fixed in the attitude of listening — his mouth open, and yet not seeming to breathe — his hand raised, and one finger extended, as if commanding silence, that he might catch the truth — he was not long in divining the cause. " Holy Virgin !" he cried, crossing himself at the same time ; " the lake ! the lake ! " Having expressed his fears, he hurried to the projecting angle to ascertain whether they were founded in truth. The Colonel followed. Though self-possessed, he knew not how to act : there was no mistaking Giovannino's sense of danger. The voice of a thousand thunders proclaimed some dread convulsion ; GLENLOXELY. 225 yet all was undefined, and doubly awful from its dark and hidden mystery. On passing the angle alluded to, the river might be traced until lost among the high and broken cracfs which fed its source. The dis- tance was considerable : but the fall was ?o rapid and broken, that, wherever the channel was narrowed by the approaching cliflPs, it leapt the barriers in one bold and dark cascade. At rather more than half way between the farthest point of view and the spot where the travellers stood, the river was traversed by one of those wild unearthly bridges which puzzle posterity. As usual, in all ages and countries, the work was ascribed to the devil, who, determined to walk the earth, and lead others in his steps. has, from time to time, turned architect, and thrown arches where the boldest of men had not dared to fix a centre. By some omission or whim in the sponsors, the work was known as the " Black Bridge," instead of bearing, as is usual, the builder's name. There were two arches, and the centre pier was worthy of his Satanic majesty. It consisted of a mass of L o 226 GLENLONELY* blackened rock, which rose amidst the foam like a monster from the deep, yet sufficiently like the human form to suggest the idea that the devil had borrowed from his palace in hell, and placed a huge African Caryatis to favour his progress on earth. From either end of this bridge was a zig-zag path which led to the heights above, and a third also leading from the bridge to the road, which here was abruptly terminated. The Colonel was not long in overtaking Giovannino ; and, obtaining a view of the object which we have attempted to sketch, by the time he stood by his side, the poor boy had attained a full perception of the peril he fore- boded. Taking a small crucifix from his bosom, he kissed the image of Christ; and, turning to the Colonel, said, in a tone of calm despair, " May the Saviour save us ! We must die ; the lake has burst ! We shall be swept away like chaff before the wind, and perish in the roaring flood ! " " Is there no escape," asked the Colonel, as he turned from the rocks, which frowned GLENLONELY. 2*27 defiance; " no path from the road to the bridge?" "There is," said Giovannino ; "but it's too late: the speed of a hawk would not save us." " Let us try," said the Colonel, with the energy of one who saw that hope depended on decision. Giovannino was roused to action, and obeyed the summons. Their efforts were those of men ; but the floods were hurrying with the whirl- wind's wing. Curved like one enormous wave about to break, but never breaking, the swollen waters rushed like a wedge, uprooting the foundations of the rocks, and tearing huge masses from their sides. Mass upon mass, rent and loosened by returning centuries of frost, and now deprived of their base, fell in the torrent like an avalanche of stone. A dark dense cloud rose from the falling ruins, — a moving column, which marked the destroyer's path, and shrouded the screaming eagle which strove to soar above. Every instant lessened the Colonel's hope a he watched the approaching column, and mea- L 6 228 GLENLONELY. sured with his eye the dwindling space between that and the bridge. Still he persevered : the fantastic figure of the pier became more dis- tinct : it looked like a demon risen to mock the agony of man, and enjoy the convulsions of nature. " It can't be done," said the Colonel, coming to a dead halt, and seeing the impossibility of gaining the bridge before the flood. " We must climb the rocks, or die !" Giovannino saw the same alternative ; and, supported by the Colonel's self-possession, he glanced to every spot which could give the shadow of success. Cato, with the sagacity of his race, watched their endeavours, and read their wishes. Now advancing, now returning on their footsteps, he made unceasing trials to find a landing-place. The Colonel, baffled in his own attempts, kept his eye upon Cato. The poor dog was as un- successful as his master ; till at length, spurred, as it were, by some sudden recollection, he started off at full speed, and retraced his path for about three or four hundred yards. The GLENLONELY. 2*29 Colonel watched him with intense anxiety. Be it instinct or reason which makes dogs such close obsei'vers, he knew the fact : this was no moment for anah'sis; and he watched for the result as their last and only hope. When Cato had gained the distance we have mentioned, he stopped short ; eyed the cliffs for a second ; then, retreating to the water's edge, and adding to his powers by a lengthened run, he dashed at the rock, and was lost to sight. " By the Saints above !" said Giovannino, the dog is right. I mind the spot ; the road is wider, — the rocks more broken. If hope there be, 'tis there." Winged with fear and hope, Giovannino started off like a racer, and beckoned to the Colonel, who, as may be supposed, was not slow to follow. In a short time they arrived where Cato had disappeared. Having attained to a ledge some thirty feet high, he was now lookinir for his master with outstretched eve- balls and marked impatience. The aspect was not promising. Had not the Colonel often seen Cato scramble up a wall like 230 GLENLONELY. a cat, he would have deemed it impossible that he could have gained the position he held: but there he was. If the chance were desperate, the stake was life, and death alike if the hazard were lost or refused. For some height, the face of the rock was ra- ther overhanging than perpendicular ; broken, however, so as to receive the claws of a dog, though scarcely enough for the footing of man. " My kingdom for a scaling-ladder!" said the Colonel ; for he was a true soldier, and where theie was just the possibility, he never despaired : calmness and joke mingled with courage, which seemed to rise in proportion to the danger. " Come, quick, Giovannino; you are the lighter, and must try first : there is rest for one foot : you must cling with your hands like the wings of a bat." And, having marked the point to which he was to spring, by scratching the dark rock, he awaited in readiness to assist Giovannino's attempt. " Bravo ! " cried the Colonel : " be calm, and you'll do. Now pause ; now shift your hold ; now your foot on the muzzle of my gun. Bravo GLENLONELY. 231 aojain ! Body straight: stick to the rock as if fired from the mouth of Harlequin's gun ; one effort more, and you '11 reach the ledge ; now trust your arms, the twigs are tough ; the walls are iron ! Victory ! the victory is ours ! " And as the gallant Colonel watched the ener- gies of Giovannino, and directed his movements, he forgot his own danger, as much as though he had been directing the efforts of a storming party. Giovannino was safely lodged by the side of Cato, who, heedless of his arrival, devoted his fixed attention to his master. Giovannino could not do less ; grateful for the Colonel's exertions, and anxious to share with him the mercies of escape, he implored him to lose not an instant. Lying flat down, and grasping with one hand a firmly rooted sapling, he kept the other at liberty to render assistance. The Colonel had now to get into action, as well as command. He would not relinquish his gun, for he looked to its aid as a connecting link. Taking the hint from Cato, he retreated a few paces, and, by a desperate effort, planted his foot at the point he had marked, and retained 232 GLEN LONELY. his position by clinging strongly with his left hand. The next movement was eminently perilous : another footing could be obtained only by shifting his hold, and drawing himself up. To effect this, he gradually described the seg- ment of a circle with his right hand, keeping his arm as close to the cliff as the hour hand to the face of a clock. When raised above his head, he rested the projection of the locks in a crevice, and lowered his hand until he had firm hold of the but of his gun. On looking up- wards, he caught Giovannino's eye, and warned him to retire till he gave the word; even Purdey's lock might fail in this novel trial, and his ally be shot through the head. Having taken these preparatory measures, he used his locks as a mountaineer would his crook, and succeeded in creeping up till the shelving rocks no longer afforded assistance. " Now, Giovannino ; now or never ! Purdev or ' perduto ! ' " cried the Colonel, raising the gun to the utmost, and sporting his joke and Italian at the same time. " Now for your aid ! " But Giovannino could render little : GLENLOXELY. 233 his fingers just reached the muzzle, and that was alL " Can you raise the gun ?" asked the Colonel. " Yes, Signor," was the quick reply ; and the Colonel feeling the gun in Giovannino's hold, relinquished his own. " Pass one strap of the knapsack round the but. Make fast to the other, and lower the piece," said the Colonel, whose mind, formed amidst difficulties, immediately seized on every human resource. His orders were instantly obeyed. Giovannino passed the strap round his arm; and, clinching it in his hand, he lowered the gun until the Colonel was able to grasp the muzzle. " Hold firm !" cried the Colonel, as he pre- pared for the struggle on which his life depended. Giovannino rallied all his strength to save his deliverer. " This arm may be pulled from its socket," he said within himself; '• but till then it shall not fail." The next minute Cato, the Colonel, and Giovannino were standing in comparative se- curity. They turned their looks to the coming 234 GLENLONELY. torrent: it closed like a mantle around the demon pier. The bridge was lifted in the air with tlie shock of an exploding mine; and in a moment more it was lost in the dense column of ascend- ing dust and spray. Giovannino shuddered at the destruction of a work so awfully mysterious : the reputed architect was one of his earliest recollections. No Catholic dared to cross it without the armour of a Pater noster ; and some time in the year the poorest left their mite in a begging-box for its repair. Whether this were to make friends with the devil — a maxim some recommended, — or to verify the tradition, that the bridge was in- destructible, we cannot stop to decide. What- ever might be Giovannino's opinion, even if he expected the spirits of hell to rise and resent the assault, there was little time for prayer : he recollected the height of the departed bridge, and felt that their present refuge would shortly cease to be a place of safety. Cato, being neither native nor Catholic, most probably did not join in the whole range of Giovannino's thoughts and fears; but he de- GLENLONELY. 235 cidedly jumped with their conchision. He was again restless, and on the look out for the means of ascending higher. Now was the Colonel's turn to assist his faithful leader. The sjwt which they occupied is well defined by that little word : the addition of a rabbit, for Cato's amusement, would have made it crowded. Though to pro- ceed higher appeared easy from below, a thin projecting ledge hid, for the present, their future course: it was an obstruction, not difficult for man, but impossible for a dog, unless he could leap with the curve of a comet. Cato, though possessed of sagacity, and a tail, had not this property, and must have remained to die, if his master had not started him on his way. Having done this, his voice was shortly heard at a considerable elevation, cheering the rescued tra- vellers to fresh exertions. Again the Colonel aided Giovannino to ad- vance, and succeeded in clearing the obstruction himself. They now found themselves in a steep ravine, down which the melting snows had found a channel, and carried portions of soil, which nursed a stunted vegetation. Comparatively, 236 GLEXLONELY. their toil and danger were light ; and fortunate it was that such was the case. They had not attained more than one hundred feet, when they were deafened by the thundering deluge. On it came, rearing its curved and crested head — swift, overwhelming, and resistless. Giovannino shrank to the Colonel's side, and clung in terror to his arm. As it neared their position, the receding rocks offered less resistance, and the waters sprang on like a monster at the sight of its destined prey. This sudden impulse, joined to the decay of ages worked in the ravine, added to the accumulating horrors. The mountain shook beneath their feet : immense fiaorments were borne like pebbles in the flood; the air, suddenly displaced, rose like a whirlwind on high, seizing in its grasp the loosened pines, and volumes of earth and water. For some moments, the travellers were enveloped in darkness, and blinded by the suffocating cloud : but on it passed. Once more they looked upon the moving colunm which hovered in the air, like vultures on the march of armies — so, at least, thought the Colonel, as he saw the eddying GLENLONELY. 237 winds pounce on the falling trees, and hang upon the rear of desolation. Beneath their feet nothing remained but a yawning precipice, and the dark and troubled flood : on this were borne the trophies of the fell destroyer — men, women, children, swept from the cottage, or the grounds their hands were tilling ; now seen, now lost ; now lifted on the bounding wave, with all the mockery of struggling life. The Alpine village had perished, and all was lost ! — flocks and cattle — hamlets crushed — their roofs and beams, the peasant's household wealth — the in- fant's cradle, and the bed of leaves — all were floating like feathers on the waves — one sad and mingled chaos of destruction ! It was a fearful and terrific sight : yet the Colonel could not withdraw his gaze. His heart was bleeding; his sympathies were in- tensely raised; and, in defiance of impossibility, the wish to save was prompting him to action. It was not till these poor victims had been hur- ried past, that he veiled his eyes and heart against the rock for support. " My Signer ! my kind Signor I " said Gio- *238 GLEN LONELY. vannino, taking the Colonel's hand ; "once you have saved my life; again that life is in dan- ger. The rocks are crumbling at our feet : we perish if we linger here." In saying this, Giovannino thought as much, if not more, of the Colonel's safety than his own ; but, with the quick tact of his country- men, he hoped to rouse the Colonel, by asking assistance for himself. He was not mistaken : his kind heart answered to the appeal. " True ! " he said, with a forced smile ; "I must not forget the soldier's motto, ' 'T is wiser to serve the living, than mourn the dead.' " Though the torrents were passing with frightful velocity, it would have been idle to remain until they had subsided. Their retreat was cut off; and "Forward!" must be the word. When there is no choice, what a world of trouble it saves ! In the present crisis, the mind was relieved from the exertion of debate, and the necessity of ascending was every in- stant more apparent. Piece after piece of the splintered rock continued to fall. They could feel each mass grating and trembling beneath GLENLONELY. 239 them, as it started in its course, and fell, un- heard, in the roaring waters. They obeyed this imperative notice to quit; and, ere they had gained many feet, they saw their late lodg- ing? fall like the sands of an hour-G;lass. The higher they ascended, the more compact were the rocks : but here, if the mind were spared, the body was not. In many places, the ravine presented an appearance much like the section of a chimney ; and as the Colonel, with all his ambition of rising in the world, had never learnt to climb like a chimney-sweeper, the labour was infinite to him ; and not much less so to Giovannino. At length, however, the two arrived in safety on the summit of the mountain, which here could be little less than six hundred feet high. " Heaven be praised ! " cried the Colonel ; and he waved his hat, and stretched his arms, as joyously as ever poor orphan did when he rose from a chimney-pot. He next attempted to arrange his dress ; and, glancing at his unruly rags and tatters, he said, " This is worse than the side door to your Giant's Rib." 24-0 GLENLONELY. The allusion recalled Giovannino's thoughts to the scenes they had passed ; and, mounting a more elevated crag, he beckoned to the Colonel, and pointed in the direction of the " Valley of Rocks." Changed indeed were the sloping hills of emerald green ! They now formed the basin of a wide and blackened lake — the ga- thering point of the dead — the inland wreck of what was once a village. The Giant's Ribs, capacious as they were, were but a siphon to the mass of waters; but the mountains which overlaid the skeleton with- stood their angry shock. The Colonel, of course, could only image what was going on within the shaft, from which they so lately escaped. But he afterwards met a peasant, who said that, on looking from above, the flood was seen to escape from the cavern, and rise like a water-spout — higher and higher, as the lake increased in depth ; " till, bursting in the ' Devil's Caldron,' it added to the boiling waves." In thus concluding his description, the pea- sant intended neither joke nor pun; the re- collection of the scene was too recent to admit GLENLONELY. 241 of either. He spoke as if he still were a spec- tator ; and, if the " Devil's Caldron " and boiling water were united by the spirit of fun, it had no more effect on his muscles than tick- ling a paralysed limb. What a jumble is man, of good, evil, mer- riment, and grief! How they tug, jostle, mingle, and strive to master the frail machine wherein they dwell ! How rarely, alas ! can the head play engineer, divide, control, and di- rect their powers as he would ! How hard, if not impossible, to be what we wish, or do what we intend ! Most assuredly it was not our intention to fall into these reflections, nor to conclude this chapter, until we had lodged our travellers within the exile's castle ; but the devil tempted us astray, as he often has, and led us, as he always does, into hot water I VOL. I. M 242 GLENLONELY. CHAP. IX. THE GHOST AND ITS LITTLE ONE. Mais il e:-;t certains cliapitres qui m'echappent, ou plutot il en est d'autres qui coulent de ma plume, comme nialgre moi, et qui deroutent mes projets ; de ce nombre est celui. Xavier de Maistre. We are told, on the highest authority, that " to eat with unwashen hands defileth not a man." This may be true, when the hands are doing the work of that mortal greedy member, the stomach ; but cannot be allowed when working for the head, — the seat of intellect and soul. No : in that case, we can assure our readers, more especially divines, that the purity of per- son should emulate that of the mind : the hands should be clean as the conscience ; the paper spotless as the heart; the pen new, and GLENLONELY. 243 the ink — albeit black and bitter — should flow like the milk of human kindness; and then there is no saying how excellent a sermon may not be produced ; taking for granted, that mind, conscience, and heart, are what they ought to be, and in the right place. But we hasten to dispel unfounded alarm. We are not about to write a sermon, though we do set to work more tidily than the hungry artificer, — the " great unwashed." Our task shall be, deeds as well as words, — practice without preaching ; anij, with the least possible delay, we will lead the hungry and houseless to a home for the night, and bid adieu to the devil for the present. " Well," said the Colonel, as he continued to watch the swelling lake, and saw Giovannino absorbed in thought ; " well, Giovannino, are you thinking of our fate, if the floods had sur- prised us in your skeleton cavern." " I was, my Signor ; and I shudder to think of the danger to which my vanity led you." " Never mind : I like you the better, and wish ever}' Briton were as proud of his country. M 2 244 GLENLONELY. Only remember my caution to guides in an enemy's country — a man don't like to be left alone in the dark. But answer my question." " What would have been our fate?" repeated Giovannino, and catching the Colonel's style; "why I think we should have passed from the giant's throat like shot from the mouth of a cannon." " Or," said the Colonel, who felt he was robbed of his simile, " been stuck to the roof like the busts at Herculaneum, and left our casts in mud, as they did in lava." " Some difference betw^een fire and water, my Signor," ventured Giovannino to suggest. " True," said the Colonel ; " but you cap- tured my cannon, and I sacked your country for comparison. A hot fire is apt enough to a soldier's thoughts. But now, a truce to joking, and let us think of quarters for the night." The Colonel was one of those buoyant spirits, which, depress them as you wlW, instantly struggle to rise again. It must not be sup- posed that he who is blessed with such elasticity has neither feeling nor kindness of heart. On GLENLONELY. 245 the contrary, the Colonel would go through fire and water, make any sacrifice, to serve a fi'iend; but he would do it cheerfully. He could weep with those who wept ; but it was not his wont. He was not one of those who, meaning to console, make matters worse by the length of their faces. Giovannino assured the Colonel they would easily gain the high road; which, he con- fessed, it might have been wise to have taken originally. While they were journeying on, the Colonel took the opportunity of inquiring the cause of the awful visitation they had wit- nessed. It seemed to be an occurrence not unusual in a mountainous district, though rarely upon a scale so terrific and fatal. A stream, tributary to the river they had traced, had been choked by an avalanche : the weight of descending snow stript the pines from the mountains, and mingled with the fallen mass till they became a barrier, perfect for the pre- sent, but treacherous for the future. By degrees a lake was formed, creeping on, like M 3 •24-6 GLENLONELY. a thief in tlie night, till at length the inhabit- ants awoke to the sense of danger. The usual measures were taken for draining off the waters gradually : they were nearly completed, when, with the shock of an earthquake, the floodgate of nature burst, and let destruction loose. The sun, still cloudless and bright, as though it looked on nothing but happiness, was calmly approaching the gorgeous canopy prepared for its descent. The Colonel, remarking how much they had diverged from the course of the river, and seeing no signs of habitation, inquired if they h ad much farther to go ? "Ko, Signor: we should have arrived ere sunset, but for our unlooked-for delay. Look yonder, where the road ceases." " I perceive," said the Colonel, who had already remarked the fact, and wondered how its future windings were hidden. " When we reach that point," continued Giovannino, " we are scarcely more than half an hour distant from the castle." "Wisely spoken," said the Colonel, "since the measure of time is the same all over the GLENLONELY. 247 world. But how is it I lose the road at yonder point, though the ground is rising?" " Simply, Signor, because there is no road any farther." "How?" asked the Colonel, who looked at least for farther explanation. *' You know," replied Giovannino, " my master, with all his excellence, is wild and whimsical, and has a horror of intrusion. Moggeridge, that mammoth of a man, though gentle as my lord — do you know him also?" The Colonel nodded assent. " * Moggeridge,' said my lord, 'if I shut my- self up, I've no wish to be stared at like a lion in a cage: I seek retirement to please myself, not others. Let the road end here, and bring curiosity to a check.' " " A sharp one, too," said Colonel Murray, as he saw the barren and rocky ascent : " very much like a march on the points of pyramids, or sitting on thorns if one wished to halt. What said old Moggeridge, the engineer?" " Not a word, Signor," continued Giovan- liino; " for he petted my lord in his whims like M 4 248 GLENLONELY. a spoiled cliild ; asking pardon for my liberty of speech. Starded at first, he was soon recon- ciled to the order : repeating the favourite oath he had picked up in his travels, ' It be a mys- tery to I,' he added, musing half aloud, ' but my lord is right ; the English are curious ani- mals when abroad, and they'd follow like hounds if they once got scent of our castle.' Such was his only remark, if I speak it correctly." The Colonel complimented Giovannino on his innocent attempt to swear in English ; and they proceeded, though with pain and difficulty. The guide received a few more lessons of English, as the Colonel from time to time cracked his shins, or, feeling the rock enter his sole, vented his anger in words more abrupt than those of John Moggeridge : we hope they were as inno- cent. Be this as it may, he heartily v/ished that Herbert Lindsay had had less of romance, and more of the hard heart of M'Adam. After gaining the summit of this chevaux de frise of stone, as the Colonel called it, they looked upon a descent more steep, but comparatively easy. Beyond this, they partly caught sight of a GLENLONELY. 249 large insulated rock which rose in the midst of surrounding valley and precipice. "Behold, Signor," cried Giovannino, "yonder are the castle walls ! " The Colonel, anxious to rejoin his friend, and by no means sorry to reach head-quarters, hailed the tidings, and exerted to the utmost his powers of vision, but in vain ; neither walls nor signs of habitation could be detected. Though the sun had disappeared, it was not dark ; the canopy of ruby gold, which veiled its flight, was still waving in the west, and the moon, like an impatient rival, had long been watching an opportunity of struggling into light : but the Colonel, much as he prided himself upon a quick sight, was fain to confess he could see nothing in the shape of a wall. " Wait a little, my Signor," said Giovannino ; and, having passed some high masses on their right, they suddenly came in full view of the island rock, if so we may term a mountain, surrounded by running w^ater ; falling from a series of cascades. A river made its rude assault on one side, and, repulsed by solid rock, fled M 5 250 GLENLONELY. right and left, till, with the slight assistance of art, the two branches met on the opposite side, and clipped the mountain hke a pair of calipers. Here, reuniting, hke lovers parted for a time, they journeyed together to their grave, the all- absorbing ocean. The mountain itself was in form like the section of a pear. We regret that we could not lay our hands on some more exalted simile ; but, let the reader reflect and forgive. If Italy, the land of which we are describing an atom, is known in geography as the high- heeled boot about to make a foot-ball of Sicily, and kick it to Africa, surely we may be forgiven if we beg the loan of half a pear to illustrate the figure of our exile's home. Having, we trust, convinced the reader that there is no mean- ness in borrowing, we continue the description, by saying, the mountain itself was shaped like the section of a pear, inaccessible on all sides but one ; where the declining rock terminated in a narrow tongue, — borrowed, perad venture, from a lady, as it answered incessantly to the babbling stream. The surface of the mountain GLENLOXELY. 251 was considerable, and nearly level, with the exception of a part which rose wildly above the rest, as designed by nature for the last strong- hold of man. " Now, Signor," repeated Giovannino, in- terrupting the Colonel's contemplations of this singular rock ; " now don't you see the walls, and the castle too." The Colonel was again obliged to confess his inability to do so ; indeed it were difficult, unless well acquainted with the localities. The walls, the towers, and castle were all built of the rock, and on the rock. In the course of time, the colouring had become so uniform, that, in the broad light of day, it was not easy to say where art began and nature ended. De- stiuction, wrought by the ruthless force of powder, had been continued by the gentle, yet treacherous, hand of time : flowers, shrubs, the pine, olive, and oak were rooting themselves on and amidst the ruins, and, under the mask of beauty, furthering the work of the silent de- stroyer ; the battlements of the square tower which once formed the citadel, were broken and M 6 252 GLENLONELY. wild as the precipice on which they stood ; and the walls which guarded the only accessible point, were left as found, or rudely repaired by the weather-beaten materials their ruin afforded. Herbert Lindsay, the present lord of the castle and rock, formed a strong contrast to its former possessors. Their motto was " war," his " peace." He dreaded no attack, save that of idle and impertinent curiosity : his only pri- soners were the pet animals, which enjoyed their parole on his mountain barony ; and the feature of decay, in the midst of life, spoke to his blighted heart in the tone of harmony and love. The chances of war and fire which led to the destruction of Castel-a-Mare, had spared, in a great degree, those portions most suited to one who wished to dwell in peace. The baronial hall, and much of what in modern phrase is styled " domestic," were nearly entire ; reared under the wing of the dark square tower of strength, their comparative weakness proved their salvation. Apartments, at elevations of end- less variety, and approached by means of strange complexity, were numerous as their fashion. The passages, like the chimneys, were practised GLENLONELY. 253 in the solid walls : the stairs wound like a cork- screw ; branched like a Chinese puzzle ; or, played the ups and downs of a dromedary's back. The architect must have anticipated the confinement of a siege, and invented the game of hide and seek. Amidst the many, there was one apartment, or rather a nest of rooms, so singular in form and access, yet so decidedly feminine in finish and beauty, that we must attempt the descrip- tion, and leave the reader to supply the fair inhabitant. Overhanging the rock, was an oriel window. From this the beholder gazed enraptured upon the falls of the river, — the forest, through which it darted, — upon Alpine grandeur to the right, — and on the left, upon a landscape extending to the Gulf of Venice ; — the coup cVceil embracing a scene richer, more beautiful, more sublimely magnificent, than Salvator, in his wildest mo- ments of inspiration, could have conceived or shadowed forth. Two small towers concealed the window from every point of the rock itself; and even Herbert Lindsay knew not of its existence, until, exploring the course of the 254 GLENLONELY. river, he looked back upon his romantic pur- chase. The next question was, how the rooms were approached : this appeared as mysterious as the apple within the regal dumpling, or toad in the heart of oak. Herbert Lindsay, however, was determined to find an entrance, though obliged, like the good king, to cut his way through. Adjoining to the vast hall devoted to the sustenance of the body, was a smaller building for the benefit of souls which hungered after heavenly food. The priestly taste in the sculp- tured stone, the remains of snug confessionals, and what was once an altar, clearly pointed to its former purposes. Having calculated the bearing of the oriel window, Herbert Lindsay was convinced that the apartments, be they for prison or pleasure, were situated above the chapel. To pursue the metaphor: in taking the soundings of the wall, he remarked some pierced and broken fret-work, relieved by shadow more than usually dark. Upon strik- ing the stone, a hollow echo was returned; and the openings could be pierced deeper than the probings of a custom-house officer. GLENLONELY. 255 It was not difficult to trace this cavity to the ruins of the high altar. These were speedily removed; and a low arched doorway was seen in the wall, immediately behind the altar. A thin slab of marble had evidently formed the door, answering, in appearance, to others right and left, but contrived to move aside like a sliding panel. The destruction of the altar had broken the marble, and partly filled up the entrance. Provided with wax torches and the means of light, he and his at- tendants soon effected an entry; and he found himself in a narrow passage, sufficiently high and airy, and lighted by rays which shot like stars through the dark relief given to orna- ments carved on the chapel wall. The architect had managed his ascent as a modern engineer would conquer a mountain, — by winding like a boa round its prey : steps there were none ; but the passage gradually rose as it pursued the line of the chapel walls, and passed to those of the banquetting hall. Here, also, the same method of lighting was continued, till, suddenly ceasing, there was darkness for some distance, which ended in a strange and mystic light. 256 GLENLONELY. changing with wreaths of vapour or smoke, which slowly mounted from below. As Herbert Lindsay had neither the fears nor hopes of Macbeth, he boldly proceeded, until his pro- gress was cut short by coming to a large shaft, showing a patch of blue sky above, and the embers of burning wood below : it was, in fact, the chimney, well proportioned to the huge fire-place of the hall. What was to be done ? He thought he could perceive that the passage was continued on the opposite side, though nearly concealed by two planks of black oak, which extended upwards, and lay close to the stone-work. He was soon convinced there were no witches to fear ; but certain savoury odours told, that one more step would be as fatal as though he were to fall into a mess of " Toes of frog, tongue of dog, Nose of Turk, and Tartar's lips; Fenny snake, and charms which make A hell-broth boil and bubble." A large beam, nearly level with his feet, tra- versed the fiery gulf: this, by a firm step and active spring, might be gained; but it was rounded on the upper side, as if to make the GLENLONELY. 257 footing more difficult. Indeed, the boldest could perch himself there to little purpose, unless there were an open passage for a second leap. His inventive brain quickly caught at the idea of a drawbridge, which the beam was well calculated to support. Having sent for his hunting spear, and such means as occurred for furthering his research, he amused himself by watching the wreathings of the eddying smoke, inimitably graceful in its silent flight, whether from the cottage backed by woods, or expiring taper. How infinite is beauty to those who have eyes and see ! After a short delay, the messengers returned ; and, selecting a spear used in hunting the boar, he attached a cord, and hurled it against the black oak, as the fisher of whales would launch his harpoon. The wood, however, proved less vulnerable than the monster of the deep, though the point entered far enough to prove that he had conjectured rightly. A lengthened pole, with a boat-hook, proved a more effective weapon ; and, with little effort, the bridge, if 258 GLENLONELY. such it might be called, was lowered till it touched the beam. There were now scarcely more than three feet between the plank and landing on which they stood : Lindsay eagerly seized a light from the hands of an attendant, and crossed this extraordinary approach. Giovannino was amonofst those who watched their fearless lord, and joined in their anxiety, though he felt but little of their superstitious doubts. Appearances were, we confess, likely to awake such feelings. The fitful light which occasionally flashed from below, met by the rays from above, confounded with the glare of their own torches, produced an unearthly effect as it glanced on their pale and anxious features. Still more unearthly was the appear- ance of Herbert Lindsay, as, passing the light smoke from the burning logs, he disturbed its ascent, and it seemed to close around him like a winding shroud. As he approached the op- posite side, his torch burnt with more power, and dimly disclosed a passage answering to the one in which they stood. One step more, and he would gain the entrance ; deeming all danger GLENLONELY. 259 passed, they withdrew the spear with which they had steadied the end of the bridge, when, in an instant, it flapped back to its former position ; — their lord was precipitated forward, and his torch extinguished ! If their nerves had trembled from dread uncertainty, it may be supposed they were not braced by this slight reality. How many saints were invoked, or crosses signed, we know not, nor how long their prayers would have lasted, had not an angry voice consigned them to the devil for not lowering the bridge again. Herbert — the gentle Herbert — on recover- ing the centre of gravity, lost his usual serenity at finding his voice inaudible. There is nothing like an oath when we are angered; it is the best of sedatives. Don't mistake us, gracious reader : swearing we abhor, — we, who are president of a temperance society, — we, whose grandmother was a Penn* (this, by the way, accounts for our writing), — we, who have for- sworn wine, spirits, and swearing, — we merit no such misconstruction. But the hermit must * It is only the pen of a goose that is spelt otherwise. 260 GLENLONELV. have water, and the quaker his " Verily, oh !" We care not how innocent the oath; whether we swear by London milk, bread-pudding, or Dorsetshire cheese, it matters not ; but an oath we must have : it is the safety-valve of bile ; it clears the throat for forgiveness, purity, and affection. We are far from defending Herbert Lindsay's invocation, and only plead in extenuation, his fallen state, his bruises, and utter darkness — for bringing the devil to his mind. Unlawful as the means w^ere, they answered two purposes : his attendants recovered their senses, and he his temper. The former expedient was repeated. Again the bridge was lowered, and the shadowy figure of Herbert could be faintly traced in the opposite passage. Giovannino, torch in hand, quickly passed, and, with a light spring, gained a safe footing by the side of his lord. To borrow from the eloquence of the senate, the " untoward event," w^hich made his lord- ship " stand prostrate," was readily explained. This drawbridge in miniature had no claim to GLENLOXELY. 261 the first syllable ; for there was neither chain nor substitute employed to lower or draw up the bridge. Close to the axis on which it moved, the length of plank was overbalanced by weight : consequently, when left to itself, the bridge recovered its perpendicular. Her- bert Lindsay, ignorant of this, by adding the weight of his body, gave it that additional im- petus which so unexpectedly led to his " stand- ing prostrate." Having, thanks to our Parliament, thrown light on this obscure passage, we will resume our researches. The ascent continued : after a little, the rays of day-light were again ad- mitted, till, on turning abruptly to the left, they ceased entirely. With the aid of torches, they proceeded some yards, when the walls on the right swept out into a circular form, and ter- minated the passage: whether this merely fol- lowed the shape of a flanking tower, or was made to facilitate farther progress, Lindsay did not stop to consider. A current of air nearly extinguished his light, and directed the flame towards a slight "dumpy "door, which was partly 262 GLENLONELY. open ; in a few moments it was quite so, and he entered upon the stone floor of an extensive apartment, scarcely four feet high, and with- out windows. On one side were narrow loop- holes, evidently formed to admit fresh air, and not for defence. A little reflection convinced him that he was treading the stone roof of the chapel; and, judging from the divisions around, this chamber had been used for stores, and, at the same time, served to prevent the communication of sound from the apartments above. It was long before he could detect any possible egress; at length, passing a range of dwarfish columns, the roof increased to a height beyond the reach of torchlight. Here, amidst a confused pile of wood, he remarked a slight recess in the wall, filled at the bottom with a large flat stone, in form much resembling that of a floodgate. This was imbedded in a solid frame of oak, and secured in its position by two grooves in the wall. In tlie centre was a ring of rusty iron, which seemed to say, " Raise me, if vou can." GLENLONELY. 263 Herbert read the hint; but the united power of himself and attendants were unequal to the task. In tracing the grooves, to see if there were any obstruction, his eyes were attracted by a strong chain, which hung from above. Pur- suing this farther hint, and ordering the loose beams to be cleared away, his expectations were realised, by finding one ranged obliquely against the wall, and acting as a powerful lever. With little effort the end was raised ; and he saw the chain descend within reach. Passing a hook through the ring, he commanded his attendants to exert their strength, and saw the floodgate door slowly ascend, and open the way to a flight of winding stairs. Having secured the end of the lever to a ring sunk in the stone floor, Herbert Lindsay was hastening his ascent, when, treading on some- thing which rolled beneath his feet, he would have fallen a second time, had there been space to do so. " Body of Bacchus I " ejaculated Giovannino (as if he thought it an oath suited to one who 264 GLENLONELY. could not keep his legs), " what now, your Ex- cellency? " But Giovannino was wrong. Had he invoked some feminine saint, the name had been better suited to the occasion. His torch again supplied the place of the one that was extinguished ; and Herbert discovered a bone on which his foot had trodden; while he saw the fingers of the hand extended to break his fall passed through the sockets of a human skull ! " How^ terrific ! " said Giovannino, as he saw his lord calmly examining the relic he had involuntarily grasped. This short comment recalled Herbert Lind- say from his meditations; and, relighting his torch, he proceeded to a more minute investi- gation. On the steps were scattered the bleached remains of two human beings ; evidently those of a woman and child. Close to a skeleton hand, singularly small in size, and still encircled by a simple gold ring, lay the skull of an infant ! One step lower, was a ring of more costly work- manship, as gay and brilliant in the company of death as when it sparkled on the living. GLENLONELY. 265 Excepting these, a small crystal locket, contain- ing part of a ring, and the remains of a broken cruse, no clue or token remained. Judging from the position of the disjointed bones, the unhappy sufferer had watched the ponderous door, until, sinking from exhaustion, she perished with the infant in her arms ! He knew it would be vain to ask assistance from his superstitious attendants, and, therefore, took upon himself the gravedigger's duty. Having removed the gold ring from the senseless joints, he collected the remains he had disturbed. After ascending several steps he came to a landing : the stairs, which seemed to have con- tinued higher, were closed in with solid stone, and a narrow passage branched from the land- ing ; entering this, and descending some way, he came to a door, contrived precisely as the one in the chapel; but here the marble had been pushed aside, and was entire. His conjectures were now fully confirmed : he stood in one of the two flanking towers ; this communicated with two small rooms, and led to one of ample size, cheerfully lighted by the VOL. I. N 266 GLENLONELY. oriel window in the centre, and one other oil each side. The sculptured fire-place and roof — the blocks of wood in the wall, arranged to sup- port tapestry or silk — the tattered rags, which flapped like mouldering banners, — all bore wit- ness to the art and luxury which had once adorned this wild retreat. And why, asks the impatient reader, has he been led to such out of the way holes and corners: he is neither a rag merchant nor dealer in bones and broken phials ! " Why," he asks, " exposed to the risk of being smoked, like a ham, in the dark!" "And why were the Colonel and his page left to shiver in the cold, instead of being snugl}' quartered for the night !" We plead guilty, and w^e beg forgiveness : w^e acknowledge our breach of good breeding in outstepping the Colonel ; our cruelty in smoking the reader. We have been too forward, and promise to atone by returning as quickly as possible. No wonder that Popery is gaining ground (w^e are converts in our heart) : there is some- thing so delightful in confession; it does so re- GLENLONELY. 267 concile us to our own way, a path whicli we dearly love : so much so, that now, having acknowledged how wicked we have been, our conscience is light, and we have no scruple in leaving the Colonel to take care of himself, while w^e return to the haunted chamber. Yes, of course, Giovannino, and more par- ticularly his companions, knew there must be a full-sized ghost, if not a little one ! — how could it escape ? Tliere was neither crack nor key-hole in the door, and no means occurred to their memory, till they, one and all, saw an annuel and cherub sail throuo;h the oriel ivindow : such at least was the metamorphosis effected by fear on a large white owl and its young one. Herbert Lindsay, being in advance, had a more distinct view of the inhabitants which their intrusion had put to flight. He en- deavoured to remove their alarm ; but it is easier to manage a madman than to reason w^ith ignorance and panic. It was in vain that he pointed to the silent evidences around : every stain was converted into blood; and if there N "2 •268 GLENLONELY. were feathers, it only proved that angels had wings. " But hark !" said he, as he heard a chorus ol shrill whistling voices from the apartments they had not entered ; " don't you recognise that note?" and with little trouble he discovered a nest of young hawks established in a niche of the wall. There is always mystery in silence ; whether it be that of woman, man, or the musing of the deaf and dumb : the bird of night had been ejected without a murmur, but here was a clamorous crew, and the anxious parents were circling in the air. Giovannino took courage at the sound, and, being ordered to convince himself and companions, he succeeded in reach- ing the nest, and withdrawing a young havv^k, which promptly stuck his talons in his flesh. This was conviction to all, especially Giovan- nino. The Italians love a joke, and laugh as merrily as we Northerns at the sufferings of others: seeing the blood trickle from the wound, they were merry in a moment, and as bold as ever. GLENLONELY. "269 We will not pause to relate the many and sad evidences of other inhabitants. The birds of the air, the pitiless storm, the ravages of time, had made a mockery of all. How awful is the lesson from the silent working of corruption ! how feeble the means — how vast the result ! the beam of massive oak turned to dust by the pigmy fungus; the labours of man devoured by the moth ; the bar of iron eaten by the damp which floats unseen ! Well might their power be chosen as the type of this passing world, and placed in opposition to the kingdom of Heaven, " where neither moth nor dust doth corrupt." While Giovannino and his companions dis- cussed their lord's version of the ghosts, Her- bert Lindsay was intently engaged in searching for some record of the past. In the tower corre- sponding to the one by which he had entered, he was led to hope for success: it communicated with the room where now the birds of prey had built their cradles — where once, perchance, the mother had watched the slumbers of her child. This spot had evidently been used as a study or library : amongst the trophies of the eagle and hawk — N 3 •270 GLEN LONELY. bones picked dry, and fragments changing to carrion — lay the form of manuscripts and books; but they passed like the hope they had gen- dered : they were but a shadow of their former selves. On being touched, some mingled with the air; others, mouldering and damp, scarcely revealed the trace of written words: like the witness, struck by death, they preserved their original form, but the tale they might have told was left to dark conjecture. Herbert Lindsay made no discovery in ex- amining these relics: the recess, which they once had occupied, had served the double pur- pose of door and bookcase. Calling for assist- ance, he soon gained admittance to a gallery, or passage, highly ornamented and commodious : his path, however, was soon impeded by the ruins of the fallen roof, and in a little time stopped short by the destruction which had reached this side of the castle. Whilst looking down from the dizzy height on which he stood, he could be at no loss to comprehend that retreat in this direction was hopeless. Opposite were the remains of that large square tower which once formed the cita.- GLENLONELY. *27 1 del. Turnino- round to examine the ruins on which he stood, and those immediately above, he traced the abutments of a double arch, which doubtless had communicated, like the Bridge of Sighs," with the opposite tower. Judging from appearances, the passage had continued in the lower arch, while a second, immediately above, formed a ceiling to the first, and afforded a foot- way to the battlements over the apartments we have explored. And here we leave him to his meditations ; and have little scruple in doing so. Herbert Lindsay, although romantic and accomplished, was a Scotchman : should any reader, imper- tinently curious, put the question which called forth Sawney's ready answer — " Going back again " — it is possible that Herbert's reply to the interrogatory, " What are you doing there ?" — would also have been — " Going back again." That he is well able to do so, without our as- sistance, we are convinced : so, being tired of our own way, we will join that of the be- nighted Colonel. " Do you call yonder black-faced rock a i.- 4 272 GLENLONELY. wall?" asked the Colonel, as Giovannino led him to the water's edge, and avoided that part which appeared accessible. " No, Signor," answered Giovannino ; " but, if its face is black, 1 trust its ears are even quicker than those of a wall." So saying, he applied a bugle to his lips, and awoke the echoes of the rock. " If deaf, it's not dumb, at all events," said the Colonel. " Neither one nor the other, my Signor; and if it be black as a negro, I trust it will wel- come us like a faithful slave." The Colonel looked for an explanation of his guide's metaphorical joke ; and as he watched the opposite bank, he perceived some dark ob- ject gradually rise, and, curving over the stream, extend its lengthened form, very much as if the rock had been putting forth an arm to shake hands with the travellers. "And do you call this thing a bridge?" asked the Colonel. " Yes, Signor ; but mind your toes." The Colonel retreated as the arch descended ; and, having once more wished Lindsay's ro- GLENLONELY. 273 mance at the devil, he asked, " Where, in tlie name of all that's wonderful, did your master pick up this idea?" " Can't tell, Signor," said Giovannino, " un- less the hint was taken from a smoky old chimney, which you doubtless will visit. But let us cross while we can, or the bridge may be tired of waiting : " and, accordingly, he led the way. They crossed in safety ; but had no sooner done so, than the bridge once more rose in the air, and then shrank within itself, like the offended horn of a snail. Colonel Murray now perceived that the rock which had appeared so dark was the beginning of a lofty cavern, which concealed the porter's lodge from the farther bank of the river. Ravs of light now flashed through the iron bars of a small wicket in a gate, which looked much like a portcullis ; while the voice of one engaged in lighting torches said, "All's ready; advance!" Giovannino, mindful of the morning lesson, took the Colonel's hand, and led him towards the gate. They had approached within a few N 5 274 GLENLONELY. feet of the inhospitable barrier, when the i^-round thev trod on sounded hollow, and evidently sank with their weight. Before the Colonel had time to ask a question, there w^as another change, and the gate vanished with the celerity of a spring-blind. We are inclined to believe (though we have never been able to prove) that there was a dark plot between the young guide and the old guardian of the castle-gate : in other words, that youth and age, being equally proud of showing off their master's lions, it was agreed between them, that Giovannino should rule by day, and Pietro by night. To effect this, the visitor was to be taken the "nearest way about," which the proverb shrewdly declares to be " the far- thest way round." Their late arrival proved the wisdom and observation of our ancestors, as doubtless it would have done, had they encoun- tered a lion instead of a monster of the deep. Whether our suspicions be true or not, there were certain preparations on the part of Pietro which would have been idle and worthless by day. The Colonel had just time to remai'k GLEXLONELY. "2 / D some vivid contiscatioiis, which reminded him of firing a train, when, in a moment more, the cavern was faintly illuminated by rays coloured like the rainbow; — anotlier moment, and the cord of communication burnt more vividly, fell to the ground, curling like worms of fire, and the torches assumed their natural flame, in- stead of that of the spirits in which they had been steeped. If guilty, the conspirators might well be forgiven : the effect was magical, especially as it followed so closely on the scenes of a day fraught w-ith wonder and peril. The Colonel rubbed his eyes, doubting if the whole were not a dream, — a nightmare, the morbid ofl- spring of late hours and an Italian supper. A growl from Cato, at Pietro's approach, and ^' Is it not splendid, my Signor?" from Giovannino, made him look again, and believe that he was awake. The belief was confirmed by some crystal drops which coldly saluted his face. If the roof were, '* like Niobe, all tears," so also were the weeping stalactites as white as the mourner's X 6 276 GLENLONELY. bosom. Amidst these icicles of frozen stone hung the light fern, and plants too delicate to brave the winds of heaven. " Weeping is in- fectious," we have heard : it certainly was so here, for the leaves were glittering with a thousand tears, which fell from time to time, and froze upon the rock beneath. Above, below, on either side, were pieces of clustered spar, which, catching the light, shone like water turned to diamonds. Giovannino still led the Colonel, who, lost in admiring wonder, yielded mechanically to his guidance. The path they trod was raised, and so chosen as to avoid the shower of tears — innocent tears — unlike the tears of woman, which, whether briny, pure, scalding, or cold, may be seen with interest, though they are too often felt with pain. The path was worthy of the scene : bordered on either side with crys- tallised blocks, tinged with the colours of the em.erald, topaz, amethyst, and garnet, it seemed to wind through streams of dancing light. Be- tween those blocks were strewed spar and sta- lactites, finely broken, at once dry and firm for GLENLONELY. '277 the footing, and, compared with the stars around, softly and flowingly brilliant as the milky way. Giovanni no continued in silence, till, on a sudden turn, the line of torches ceased, and through archinof rocks was seen the moon : red, fiery, and preternaturally large, it seemed to be rising from the cavern itself, and looked as if its angry orb would close the entrance. "Is it not splendid?" asked Giovannino. The Colonel answered by asking himself, " Can that be the moon ?" so magnificent, yet unnatural, was the appearance before him. Giovannino, however, took the answer to himself; and, suppressing an arch laugh, he said, " Yes, Signor : it is neither more nor less than the chaste Diana." " Umph ! " said the Colonel, at this classical allusion, and glad of a joke to relieve his mind; " certainly not less ; but her size is prodigiously changed by a visit to earth; and, as to com- plexion, she seems to have risen from the field of battle ; and — what now ? Why yonder is the man in the moon!" pointing to a figure which appeared on the horizon, and, backed by *278 GLENLONELY. the full moon, gave an outline of unearthly proportions. " Pietro ! Pietro !" cried Giovannino, "yonder comes his excellency, my lord;" and, leaving the Colonel to face the moon and its apparition, he retreated to the rear. " Murray ! " " Lindsay ! " were heard at once, as the friends of boyhood hailed each other with the cry of sympathy, and hastened to meet. Herbert Lindsay had been anxiously expect- ing the arrival of his guest; and, having imaged a thousand unsatisfactory causes for his detention, he left the baronial hall, which he had paced to and fro, like a sailor on the deck of his prison. The extraordinary appearance of the moon to which we have alluded, is a glorious splen- dour, which, not unfrequently, heralds the beauties of an Italian night. Someone — the clever Matthews, or the amusing bubble-blower — was so struck by the appearance, that he doubted whether the sun, which had gone down before his eyes, had not risen, like a diver, be- hind his back. It is, indeed, like a setting sun in GLEN LONELY. '279 the Stillness of a starry night; with this sHght diiference, — that the one is descending, the other ascending. The moon, as witnessed by the Colonel, was but little like the chaste cold orb which calmly sails the spangled heavens, breathing of that serenity, ' ' that peace which the world cannot give : " at that moment, it was seen through the vapours of earth, and the clouded vision of erring man; and it stirred withm the bosom but the worldly dreams of grandeur and magnificence. Nevertheless, Herbert and the Colonel — two of woman born — agreed it was a beautiful variety. Having watched it for some time, linked arm in arm by the sympathetic cordiality of long parted friends, the former turned to Pietro, and asked the meaning of those twink- ling lights in the entrance cavern ? Pietro, who seemed to feel that his little device looked particularly small in comparison with the magnified moon, was almost ashamed to confess the honours he had planned for the noble guest. The next question was addressed to the 280 GLENLONELY. Colonel, as Lindsay remarked an expression of fatigue or sorrow, which had succeeded the joyous animation at meeting. The awful oc- currences of the day were soon recited; and probably they appeared more terrific to the listener's imagination than they had done to the Colonel. The active struggle for self-pre- servation, the passing rapidity of the scene, the necessity of attending to every step across the rugged path, had left little opportunity to re- flect. It was not until the following day that the realities of that morning haunted his mind with stern and collected force. In the village which had been swept away, there was not a cottage, the humblest amidst the lowly, unknown to Herbert : each family, each mem- ber, from the helpless sire to the helpless infant at the breast, were known. He had acted up to that touching injunction, of living as a brother amidst brethren of the same flock ; of doing unto others as we would they should do unto us. Instant orders were given to pre- pare covering for the houseless ; baskets of provisions, not forgetting the blessed spirit of GLENLONELY. 281 brandy (which we, who have erected a pump in our dining-room, worship medicinally), and whatever might serve for immediate suc- cour. Pietro was commanded to appropriate his torches to a better purpose, in the event of Diana veiling herself behind a cloud. The Colonel, though he could not but admire the charitable equipments, regretted to hear of Lindsay's intention to accompany his attend- ants : he had made up his mind to that luxury unrivalled, — a cosey chat with an old friend, over a bottle of — water — and a blazing hearth. It was in vain, however, that the Colonel ven- tured to remonstrate. " Would you," asked Herbert, " desert your post when the hour of action arrives ? Would you turn from the dying and wounded when the battle was fought, and leave them to your sergeants and corporals ? No, Georgie, you would not. I, too, have received a command from authority higher than the Horse Guards. What are the rich but trustees to the poor ? what but the channel to distribute the blessing wherewith they are blessed ? Yes ; for wealth 282 GLENLONELY. is one of the greatest of earthly blessings, when we do not abuse that power entrusted to our hands, — the luxury of doing good. Forgive niy warmth. Let us hope that to-morrow we shall not enjoy ourselves the less : to-night you are weary ; and you, Giovannino," he con- tinued, smiling forgiveness as he spoke, " must see to the comforts of my friend, and do the honours of an office he seems to understand so fully." After a quick but fervent " Good night ! '* and " God bless you ! " the friends again pur- sued a different path, — Herbert Lindsay to- wards the entrance cavern, the Colonel towards the castle, under the auspicious guidance of Giovannino. Hudibras, that profound and witty reader of the human heart, says that '' a man convinced against his will, is of the same opinion still;" and such, we are obliged to confess, was the state of our gallant Colonel. Convinced he was of Herbert Lindsay's rectitude ; but his wishes were rebellious notwithstanding. " What a thing it is to be romantic!" said he, me- GLENLONELY. 283 ditating within himself. ''Yet, touching this stewardship of weaUh, there is something pleasant in the notion, — better than the full- pay of a general. I wonder if Fate will ever confer on me this civil promotion?" and, with this query, his thoughts wandered to the past and future. He recalled to mind the dirty acres eaten up or washed away by the Lairds of Crab of [Mac Crab, and in fancy they were restored to his dwindled inheritance ; the family mansion was put upon its legs again ; the old hall was changed to an araioury, which, if less than that of the Tower of London, was much more select and exclusive : the best of every device for shedding the blood of man, whether result- ing from the dark genius of the savage, or the high and enlightened intellect of civilised beings, was to be collected there ; in short, it was to be complete, from the club of Cain to the French fusee of Robert {qr. le diable ?), which loads at the breech, and kills we know not how many men in a minute. To this, it is but justice to add, that a mother, revered and beloved, as also his sisters, were to benefit by 284 GLENLONELY. the trusteeship. If a little vexation at Herbert's departure suggested the maxim of " charity beginning at home," we know the Colonel too well to suppose that wealth, should his vision be realised, could ever be turned to a curse, by selfish and cold indifference to his fellow- creatures. GLENLONELY. 285 CHAP. X. THE CAPTAIN OF THE COLDSTREAM. He fought like Mars descending from the skies, And look'd like Venus rising from the -waves. Dryden. We trust that our reader is as fond of change as ourselves. We are now about to request the honour of his company amidst the more homely realities of life ; and beg him to pass with us from the high regions of romance to the flat basin of clay, as geologists style the Vale of Gloucester. Luckily for old England, the flood which filled the said basin (dish had been a better term) is to return no more; and, as the avalanche and bursting lakes are rare, the inha- bitants are obliged to live in peace and com- fort. 286 GLENLONELY. Within the few months which had elapsed since Colonel Murray's departure from Scot- land, unwonted changes had occurred in that part of the world. If not quite so terrific in their consequences, they were scarcely less un- locked for than those which he had just escaped. Lord Glenlonely, the recluse, the mourner, who had never stirred from home since the death of his wife, had decided upon a visit to that gay city of salt and scandal, the far famed Saltenham. Business, connected with his profession, had obliged the Colonel to tarry in London, ere he could proceed to the Continent. His morning duty at the Horse Guards made him perfect in the bow which dowagers claimed in the evening for permission to worship their daughters. Be- sides this resource, his delay was cheered by fond letters from his sisters, which, like them- selves, were generally in the proportion of three to one — brothers are so idle ! In these he learnt of a visible decline in Lord Glen- lonely's health ; and, what was more interesting, that Emily St. Clair appeared to be drooping GLENLONELY. 287 by the side of her guardian, whom she tended with devoted affection. The Murrays were the only neighbours who stood on the footing of intimacy with Lord Glenlonely; and, though his lordship rarely joined their society, they were the frequent companions of Emily St. Clair. Lady Murray, the amiab'e mother of the Colonel, and to whom the reader was intro- duced in our first chapter, watched the declin- ing health of Emily with all a mother's fears. Having determined to introduce the subject to Lord Glenlonely, the first opportunity, she was gladly surprised that his lordship's anxiety equalled her own, and to hear him express a wish that the best medical advice should be ob- tained. With a delicacy of feeling which was a part of his nature, he abstained from giving the direct motive in sending for Dr. Playfair; and, rather than alarm "his Emmy," or allude to effects, of which he could not but divine the cause, he made his own declining health the 288 GLENLONELY. pretext for requesting the attendance of an able physician. The result was a positive order for change of scene ; and, though Lord Glenlonely anticipated little benefit to his feeble constitution, he cheer- fully took to himself the necessity of the mea- sure, well knowing that Emily would more rea- dily acquiesce in a prospect for his sake than her own. The short seasons which had introduced Miss St. Clair to the admiration of the London world were spent under the roof of Lady Mur- ray. The same kind being now proposed to join the party, with her three daughters ; and we need scarcely add, how gladly Lord Glen- lonely acceded to an offer which would reheve him from all domestic cares, and give to Miss St. Clair the change prescribed, yet leave him to solitude amidst the gay. No time was lost. Lady Murray wrote im- mediately to her nephew, Captain Macgregor Campbell, to ascertain whether her son, the Colonel, had quitted London, and whether it were true that the Captain was about to visit GLENLONELY. 289 Saltenham on leave of absence. The following answer was immediately returned : — " My dear, kind, good Aunt, " Form and fashion thaw at the sight of your letters — they come direct from the heart; so forgive the unworldly warmth of my address. My gallant boy, your truant son, left town by one mail, as your inquiries approached by an- other. He is your very own — almost as bad as yourself — there is no resisting his winning ways. No later than yesteixiay he seduced me to dine at the Gloucester Coffee-house, at six o'clock, on beefsteaks, one inch and a half thick, pickled walnuts on one flank, piled like grenadier caps — onions, like grape shot, on the other! The wicked, joyous fellow ! how he laughed at my dismay, and wished the pretty Countess could peep in and destroy my reputation for ever ! At eight he took his. seat in the Dover mail ; — I am wrong — he took his place inside, and his seat outside. To be dove-tailed with a lady, her servant, an alderman, and child, was too much after such a dinner ; and (he is incor- VOL. 1. o •290 GLENLONELY. rigible), to horrify me, and sport a joke on a soldier's duty, he actually swallowed the grape shot ! The lady was particularly civil : ' Wait one moment, sir — plenty of room; allow me to move this parcel, that band-box; and, Jane, do take the dear child from the gentleman's seat, and gather up the cakes, oranges, parasol, umbrella, and toys.' You know, dear aunt, I hate children, except in a picture. What did my gallant boy do, but soothe the mamma, assist tlie maid, kiss the little boy, and tell him to sit up like a man, and take care of his place. I stared: ' An officer's widow!' he whispered. ' Devilish pretty, too,' answered I, loud enough to raise a becoming blush, and draw a pair of fine eyes upon your hopeful nephew. ' Good bye, my little man,' said I, and ventured to pat his hand : I could not accomplish a kiss, though his cheeks were clean and healthy, as well as his dear budding nose ; c'est beaucoup cela -n! arrive pas toujours. Te whoo ! — te whoo ! — sounded the horn: up dashed the mail cart, in flumped the bags ; the guard stamped ; billets doux were packed, as I do my clothes ; ' All right !' and away went the Colonel, en GLEN LONELY. 291 route pour la belle ville de Paris ; whence he intends to muster his words in three lines, — kill three sisters and a mother at one shot. " To return to my exquisite self. You have heard rightly: I am ordered to Saltenham, more thanks to our surgeon than colonel. Last season was worse than a winter campaign. My graceful form hjietri — ahattu. My grandfather tells a story of the Tenth : we of the Coldstream do, however, walk a quadrille ; and that is al- most as bad as dancing. I measured my steps last year, and the number of miles I won't give^ lest my fair cousins cry false ; but, on the word of a soldier, I w^alked out the works of my pe- dometer. This season is as bad. And then, that horrible Tower of London ! I have marched from St. James's to the Tower-ditch, from the ditch to St. James's, till my uniform is smoke- dried, and the smell of the city overpowers my ^igars. By the way, I hear my uncle, the Duke, is to come in with the Whigs : if so, we gentlemen of the Guards may hope for reform. Down wqth the dirty white Tower, I say, and rebuild near our mess at the Palace. o 2 '292 GLENLONEI.Y. " Yes; the duty by day and night, east and west, has half killed me. The day after to- morrow I fly for my life. One ball in my body is enough, without scores in my head. I know Saltenham by heart, and have a house in my thoughts, the very thing for yourself and love- stricken lord. You, and my fair cousins, may live as you ought, may see and be seen ; and his lordship may shut himseJf up like a priest, in a box or confessional ; or, as he will, pop out his head and see all the w^orld. Love to your dear saucy daughters, and believe me, " Your affectionate, rattle-brain, but dutiful, Nephew, " Augustus Macregor Campbell." " P. S. You shall hear the moment I have arranged : as I know the base question of money is no object with Glenlonely, trust to my doing things as they ought. He shall be lodged en 'prince^ and play solitaire with majestic majesty. Adieu." Such was the rattling epistle penned by the GLENLONELY. 293 dashing young officer ; whom, as he is about to join the party, we will briefly describe : — Augustus Macgregor Campbell was one of the younger sons of Lord John Campbell, bro- ther to the Duke of Dunbar. His Grace was blessed with a large family, and cursed by a small income. Lord John rivalled his brother in the former, and outstripped him in the lat- ter; though, as having less state to support, there was not that actual difference which mi^ht have been inferred fi'om the smaller sum total of pounds. If one must starve, it is well to do so like a gentleman ; for this purpose the armv is an ad- mirable resource : consequently, a little host of the Campbell clan bore arms for their king and country, to say nothing of their patrician selves. Augustus Macgregor was presented with a commission in the Coldstream. Though slight, graceful, and almost feminine in his beauty, he had endured fatigues under which many a stouter man had fallen; and, in the hour of danger, he was the first amidst the brave. It o 3 *294 GLENLONELY. may be, the goddess of war, touched by the youth and delicacy of her admirer, did all in her power to shield him, in hopes the most for- lorn, in storming the most darino^. One in- Stance is on record, where Campbell, advancing through a hail storm of bullets, and mounting first on the scaling ladder, was saluted by a French bayonet through his arm, while a mus- ket was presented to his head. It flashed in the pan ; and its bearer, thinking the but might be more effectual than the muzzle, aimed a blow, which sent the leader from the top of the lad- der to the bottom of the fosse. There he slup^- bered till the effect of the opiate passed ; and he awoke in time to remount the ladder, amidst the cheers of those whom he had led to victory. Though his life had been saved, the shield of the goddess had not quite protected his limbs : besides wounds, there was still a French sou- venir, in the shape of a ball, which he carried in his person, much against his inclination. Having the entree to the best society in Lon- don, and being an universal favourite with womankind, he was somewhat spoiled, and af- GLENLOXELY. '295 fected an eiFeminacy more suited to the soft beauty of his features than his character in service. Clever, quick, playful, and satirical, yet kind-hearted withal, he rarely made an enemy, though he still more rarely checked the sallies of his wit and fancy. At the time we are writing of Saltenham, it might well be termed the city of villas. Even in the finest squares, the same system of de- tached houses was pursued. Each was sur- rounded by its lawn, its shrubbery, and flower beds; and, independent of the principal en- trance, each was approached, in the rear, by a lane, which admitted the plebeian wants of proud man. If, as we have heard, this charac- ter has, in some degree, been destroyed, by continued houses, magnificent and imposing, we sincerely hope that this sterner beauty has been tempered by the plantations, drives, and boulevards, which made it unlike, and supe- rior to, all other cities, devoted to health and amusement ; half foreign in external charms, but quite English in the luxuries of domestic comfort. o 4 296 GLENLONELY. Some three weeks after Lady Murray had received the first letter from her nephew, in a walk, shaded by a double row of trees, in the bloom and freshness of spring, and facing one of the best, yet most sequestered, houses which Saltenham could boast of in those days, was a remarkably handsome, well-dressed, yet military looking man. " Nothing wonderful in that," some critic may exclaim : the remark might be spared ; for, be the reason what it may, the city of Saltenham is proverbially wanting in young men whose breeding and manner stamp the gentleman. Moreover, the few, who may lay claim to such distinction, are rarely allowed to " waste their sweets on desert air ; " and still more rarely does an officer, out of uniform, know how to dress like a gentleman, any more than a deputy-lieutenant, in uniform, knows how to look like a soldier. The Household troops form an exception to this general rule : their frequent residence in the capital, where the uniform is thrown off with their duty, makes them amphibious in this im- portant matter; and, having said thus much. GLENLOXELY. 297 we need scarcely inform the reader, that Cap- tain Augustus Macgregor Campbell was the man alluded to. For some time he repaced a given distance with the resignation of a centinel ; but the hour having elapsed when he expected to be relieved, various symptoms of impatience were betrayed. One moment he halted, and, looking at a watch scarcely larger than a shilling, frowned at the hand which all but pointed to five o'clock ; the next, his bright blue eyes glanced right and left, in vain. The march was resumed, and many an innocent flower, which decked the walk, was gathered by a hand unconscious of the act, and regardless of its charms, which were flung aside, to be replaced by others. At length the sound of wheels, and trampling of horses, announced an arrival. One, two, three, carriages, with three times four horses, appeared in succession, as they swept round a corner, some distance from the Captain's posi- tion. The pride of armorial bearings, if any there wore, was modestly veiled by a coat of mud : still there was an air in the very style of o 5 298 GLENLONELY. the splashes; they bore witness to the rate of tra- velling, and proved — at least, in the postboy's opinion — there was some great or rich person within. Without, there was certainly the former. The carriage in ad vance,of dimensions more than usually capacious, instead of a dicky behind, was fitted with a coach-box, in proportion to the size and comfort of the body ; and hereon was seated no less a personage than John Moggeridge himself: a slight female figure, a grand-daugh- ter in the service of Miss St. Clair, had nestled by his side, very much like a chick under the wings of its parent. From beneath a tartan cap, streamed a profusion of silvered locks; and the graceful plaid, which partially concealed the limbs, added to the outline of his figure. There was no mistaking the man. The Captain crossed the road, and stood by the gate to which he directed the driver's attention. In a few minutes he received a nod of intelligence, and retreated to the portico, under which the guests were to alight. The Captain practised as little form in action as in writing, when his kind aunt was addressed: scarcely allowing the ser- GLENLONELY. 299 vant to open the carriage door, he warmly wel- comed the travellers. " My dear aunt," he exclaimed, grasping her hand with a most masculine fervour ; " I thought you were lost, or my letter at least. Mounted guard these two hours ! And how are you ? — and how's Ciss, and Lizzy, and Helen ? and how " And here he checked these rapid in- quiries, which were poured forth while sundry cloaks, furs, and shawls were removed, and gave a more perfect view of a face which, though smiling at the warm volubility of the Captain, wore an expression so sad, gentle, and beautiful, that the current of his words was arrested by a charm, silent, yet strong, as the waving of a magic wand. " Miss St. Clair, if I mistake not ? " said the Captain in an altered tone, accompanied by a graceful inclination. " I fear you have suf- fered from fatigue. Pray forgive the noisy greet- ing to my aunt, and allow me to offer the sup- port of an arm." Emily answered with a smile more eloquent than words ; and Lady Murray said, " Well, 300 GLENLONELY. Augustus, I am glad you give me the oppor- tunity of returning your welcome ; and, if your lips would but repeat the offer I have heard so often on the road — ' Her ladyship would be pleased to unlight,' — still more pleased to re- sign your hand to Miss St. Clair. You forget that the ring on one finger is not meant to be imbedded in its neighbours." The Captain made his apologies as he handed his aunt from the carriage ; and she revenged her sufferings by scanning his fair face and golden hair, and asking, " Why need a gentle hero affect such iron nerves?" The attack was parried by asking for his lordship. " Did you not see him?" said Lady Murray ; "he was sitting on my right." " No, indeed," answered the Captain, " I fear I scarcely looked beyond yourself;" making a second apologetic bow to Miss St. Clair, who was leaning on one arm. " Besides, my dear aunt, who would have dreamt of finding Glen- lonely there ? I thought he always travelled in a trunk, or, at least, had a carriage to him- self." GLENLONELY. 301 " He is now too ill to be alone," said Miss St. Claii-, in a tone which bespoke her interest, and reproved the thoughtless fancy of young Campbell. He felt it in an instant, and, having intro- duced his charge to the welcome of a blazing fire, he expressed his intention of assisting the invalid. " Strong as your grasp is," said Lady Mur- ray, looking at the impression left on her deli- cate fingers, " his lordship is in better hands than yours, or we should not have left him so obediently." Notwithstanding this assurance, the Captain hurried out to offer his assistance, or make his approaches to the cousins, whom he had only been able to reconnoitre at a distance. As Campbell hastened through the entrance hall, Lady Murray's words were more fully ac- complished than he had anticipated. Wrapped in the folds of a sable cloak. Lord Glenlonely was borne in the arms of John Moggeridge, who carried his revered lord as if age had not stolen from the power of his muscles. 302 GLENLONELY. Tlie Captain drew on one side, and saluted in silence ; but Lord Glenlonely seemed too ex- hausted, and Moggeridge too intent on his charge, to notice the compliment. The first carriage was ordered to the rear, the second to advance ; and a joyous greeting it was between the cousins. Here was no reproach for a hearty welcome; and, if "Cissy's" hand were pressed somewhat more fervently than the others, we presume that she wore no ring ; for she certainly did not cry out for quarter. A short time elapsed ere they joined their mother ; but it was long enough to allow the Captain to whisper in his cousin's ear, " Cissy, since it is the fashion for men to play nurse, and carry the sick, I wish you w^ere ill." " You little monster of iniquity," answered Ciss ; and smiling archly from a pair of eyes which would have been a fortune to a gypsey ; " you would have fainted in the trial." " Ah ! " said Helen, who had caught her sister's reply, " at war already ! a truce till to- morrow, I pray you." " For half an hour," said the hero, as he GLEN LONELY. 303 lieard the first dinner bell ; " and then, cousin, war to the knife ! " " Agreed, most mighty Mac," retorted Ciss, " on one condition : fly my presence, and dis- embark my pet animals from the Glenlonely ark on four wheels." The Captain, ever ready to oblige, and not the less so when his cousin Ciss gave the word, turned to obey ; saying, " I fly, and so shall the prisoners and captives, if I find any cages ; you know — I love liberty" — he was about to add, but Cissy cut off his conclusion ; and, frowning as sternly as her playful eyes would admit, " at your peril," she cried, " dare to think of an escape." By the time that Augustus Macgregor Camp- bell, or. to use his cousin's happy abbreviation, when " Mac " arrived at the hall door, an im- mense old family carriage, alias the ark, was unloading. Moggeridge, an old ally of the young officer, was in the act of unlocking a large boot behind, from which leapt a splendid Newfound- land dog. '' Ah, Lion ! " he said, " are you one of the parlour pets ? " 304 GLENLONELY. " No," answered Moggeridge, who turned to receive the Captain's hearty shake of the hand, which he returned with interest ; " No," he repeated in a lower tone, " that noble fellow is Miss St. Clair's, and was my dear young lord's." " And, therefore, I suppose, you contrived this capital berth for old Lion." " No bad plan, either," said Moggeridge. " Only yesterday, at dusk, some stragglers thought to pillage our baggage, and, coming up with the rear, they picked the lock. One un- lucky rascal, thinking, no doubt, to snatch a fur cloak, put his hand in the boot, when Lion sprang forward, and seized the thief by the throat. We were too much amused to be an- gry : so I released the prisoner ; and, boxing one ear, which laid him flat in the mud, I hallooed in the other, ' Keep your hands from picking and stealing.' " The Captain laughed at this well-timed ap- plication of the catechism ; and, to save his cre- dit, hastened to the carriage whence w^as issuing a stream of animals, on two or four legs, of all GLEXLONELY. 305 sorts and sizes, from femmes de chamhres down to a tame magpie ; which latter, as the Captain unwisely handled the cage, bit his finger, and then said, "How do you do, Mac?" Whe- ther Cissy had stood godmamma, and taught it the vulgar tongue, we do not know. All were safely landed; and) for the present, we leave the dogs to stretch their legs, the birds to shake their wrings, and the ladies to the luxury of the toilet. 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