CHAPTER IX.

Wigton's coming, Nithsdale's coming, Carnwarth's coming, Kenmure's coming, Derwentwater and Foster's coming, Withrington and Nairne's coming: Little wot ye who's coming, Blythe Cowhill, and a's coming.

_The Chevalier's Muster-roll._

The queen's health was now declining; and Lord Nithsdale, in common with many others of his party, looked forward to the chance of a peaceable restoration of the Stuarts.

His impartial judgment acknowledged that, under the rule of Anne, England enjoyed a more than common measure of prosperity; and though she was not the rightful heir, still it was Stuart blood which ran in her veins. He augured, from her silence upon the address of both houses of parliament, urging her to press the Duke of Lorraine and her other allies to exclude the Pretender from their dominions, and from her open disapprobation of the Elector's sitting in the house of peers, as Duke of Cambridge, or even taking up his abode in England, that her secret inclinations were in favour of her brother.

All these considerations combined to render Lord Nithsdale unwilling to disturb the tranquillity of his native land; and it was with satisfaction that he found month after month elapse without his being called upon to sacrifice either the peace of his country, or the principles of loyalty in which he had been brought up.

The moment, however, came at length, in which conflicting duties made it difficult for the most conscientious to preserve a fame untarnished, or so to conduct themselves as that their motives should not be liable to misconstruction. If in times comparatively settled, when loyalty and patriotism may and ought to go hand in hand, it is difficult for public men to steer clear of suspicion, we should not be too severe on those who were exposed to trials, and placed in difficulties, from which all are now happily exempt.

Queen Anne died: and it might have afforded a lesson to both the claimants to her throne, that she, under whom this country had ranked higher in the scale of nations than at any previous period of its history--under whom the British arms had been crowned with unexampled success--under whom no British subject's blood had been shed for treason--that "good Queen Anne," the mild and merciful, sank a victim to mental anxiety, a martyr to the harassing dissensions of her ministers and of her confidential friends and favourites. But when was such a lesson of any avail? The prize was sought by both parties with unabated ardour; and Lord Nithsdale's hopes that the title of King James the Third might be acknowledged were quickly blasted.

The Duke of Montrose, true to the Protestant cause, hastened to Edinburgh, there to assist in the proclamation of the Elector; and the Jacobites lost no time in communicating with the Pretender.

Both pity and indignation had been roused in the Earl of Nithsdale's bosom, when, upon the queen's death, the King of France intimated to the Chevalier that it was expected he would immediately quit his territories and return to Lorraine; and when, on the other hand, the King of England refused an audience to the minister of Lorraine till the unfortunate exile was removed from his master's dominions.

That the descendant of a long line of monarchs should thus be hunted from country to country--that the lawful sovereign of one of the fairest realms of Europe should not have where to lay his head, over-came all other considerations; and it was with zealous passion that he joined himself with the Earls of Mar, Carnwarth, Kenmure, and the other most ardent Jacobites. It was the generous impulse of compassion for the injured,--indignation, reckless of the consequences, which prompted his conduct, rather than hope of seeing their efforts crowned with success.

While others were elated at the unpopularity of the king, whose foreign language, manners, and habits were not calculated to please the multitude, and who, by the favour shown exclusively to the Whigs, had indisposed the Tories, with whom lay the great mass of landed property; Lord Nithsdale perceived that the new monarch was determined, spirited, and active. While others relied on the secret assistance which Louis the Fourteenth, notwithstanding his engagements with England, afforded to the Chevalier; Lord Nithsdale was convinced, from the effectual measures taken to defeat them, that the Chevalier's designs must be by some means communicated to the government: and, in truth, the Earl of Stair, the English ambassador at Paris, found means to discover, and transmitted to his own court, all the plans and intentions of the Pretender while yet in embryo.

Not many months after the king's accession, some tumults and riots took place, which tended greatly to raise the spirits of the more sanguine; and even to Lord Nithsdale himself seemed to augur well for the ultimate result.

Those who celebrated the king's birth-day were insulted; while on the following day, which was the anniversary of the Restoration, the whole city was illuminated, and its streets re-echoed with the sounds of mirth and rejoicing.

The government, aware that the spirit of disaffection was making considerable progress, adopted measures of some severity towards the Scottish Jacobites; they resolved that all who were in any degree liable to suspicion should be summoned to appear at Edinburgh, and there required to give bail for their peaceable behaviour.

The Earl and Countess of Nithsdale were one evening on the bowling-green of their castle of Terreagles, watching the gambols of their children; the little Lord Maxwell, a stout bold boy, was exerting all his might to drag one of the garden-seats up the steep grass bank. He had turned it upside down; had stuck in it a tall staff, with a handkerchief for its streamer; and having christened it "his gallant vessel the Royal James," had laden it with all the bowls and bowling-pins he could find scattered upon the grass.

The parents for the moment forgot the disputed succession to the throne, the claims of James the Third, the dangers which beset their country, the perils which awaited themselves--lost in the pride and delight of watching the eager spirited boy, whose sun-burned cheek was flushed with the exertion, every muscle called into action, every sinew strained, as by turns he pushed and dragged, and shoved his unwieldy plaything.

"He is a brave boy, is he not, my lord?" exclaimed Lady Nithsdale, looking into her husband's face, her eyes teaming with maternal pride; "he will not bring disgrace upon the Maxwells! Methinks he may one day fight as gallantly for his king and country as his ancestors have done before him!"

"God bless him!" ejaculated the earl; and he turned half away, ashamed of the emotion which suddenly surprised him.

At that moment a servant approached, and delivered to him the summons issued by government, requiring his attendance at Edinburgh, there to offer bail for his good behaviour, under pain of being denounced a rebel.

"Winifred, my love, the decisive moment has arrived," said Lord Nithsdale, turning to his lady with a sad, a serious, but a determined air. "I am here ordered to Edinburgh--a summons I cannot and will not obey. I am henceforward a rebel to the existing government. The die is cast. Alas! alas! for this poor land! Let the event be what it may, ruin and desolation must fall on many. Blood must flow!--the blood of our countrymen! Winifred, it is an awful thing to take the first step which must inevitably lead to civil war!"

"Nay, nay, my lord, if our gracious prince but sets foot upon his native land, all loyal hearts will at once acknowledge him. Was not his uncle's restoration bloodless? and was not the public mind less prepared for such an event than at the present moment? Oh, think more hopefully, my dear, dear lord! The 'rose of snow' will be triumphant yet!"

The earl shook his head sorrowfully. "I cannot join in the sanguine hopes of those who think this matter can be brought to a speedy termination. I tremble, Winifred,--nay, do not look at me as though you scarcely believed, and yet blamed me," he continued, with a smile, in which there was little mirth,--"I tremble for my native land: God knows I honestly and sincerely wish for its welfare. During the just and mild reign of the late queen, it would have gone hard with me to have assisted in any disturbance, for her people were happy; but now, when a stranger and a foreigner persecutes my rightful sovereign--when he is driven, like a hunted beast, from one land to another--when all the persons of note in the country are prosecuted, banished, or disgraced--when my honoured friend and cousin, the Duke of Ormond's name and armorial bearings are razed from out the list of peers, his achievement as Knight of the Garter taken down from St. George's Chapel,--no, it is not in mortal man to sit down calmly under this tyranny! I should disgrace my name, my ancestors! Let the success be what it may, it shall never be said that William Maxwell, Earl of Nithsdale, proved false to the cause of his king, through coward fear of the event!"

Lady Nithsdale watched his kindling countenance with love and awe: the colour flushed into his pale cheek; his eyes, so full of care, gleamed from beneath the coal-black eye-brows.

"King James must succeed," she cried; "a few such spirits as my noble lord's must carry victory with them. Let the king but set foot in Scotland----"

"Yes, Winifred," he resumed, and an expression of care again stole over his countenance; "let the king come in person, and come quickly!--but, alas! he is in the hands of those who use him for their own purposes. I fear--but I scarcely dare own the fear to myself--that he lacks that decision, that boldness, that promptitude of action, which in such an undertaking are so indispensably requisite! Why is he not here even now? Why does not the Earl of Mar receive his commission? Yes, Winifred, I tremble. Should we plunge our native land in strife, should the 'rose of sna'' be indeed 'steeped deep in ruddie heart's bluid,' and should we fail in our object, shall we not have much to answer for?"

At that moment the little Lord Maxwell came running to his parents, breathless and exulting: "I have towed the Royal James safe to land, father; there she is in port!"

"Oh, take this for a good omen, my lord!" said Lady Nithsdale, kissing the boy. Lord Nithsdale shook his head; but bending over the boy, he kissed him likewise.

"Winifred, do you not think your sister Lucy, the abbess, would let them be pensioners in your old convent? I should engage in this business with better heart, if I knew that my boy and poor little Annie were safe in any other land. I would urge your accompanying them,"--Lady Nithsdale started,--"but I know that it would be in vain."

"Vain indeed!" replied Lady Nithsdale. "In all things else I have been, and I will be, a submissive wife; but do not ask me to leave you, my lord,--I scarcely think I could obey."

"But the children?"

"Gain but a little time, and we will despatch them to Bruges."

"I will excuse myself from attending the summons to Edinburgh, will beg the commissioners to take my bail here, at my own castle. This they will refuse; but some days will thus be gained, and we will hope--" he added with a sigh--"and we will hope his majesty will either arrive in person, or we may be authorised from himself to set up his standard openly."

In consequence of this resolution, the Earl of Nithsdale returned an evasive answer, in which, under the plea of ill-health, (and indeed the mental anxiety which he had of late undergone had somewhat affected his health), he applied to those entrusted with the government in Scotland for indulgence to have his bail received at Terreagles; and, in the mean time, the children were despatched, under the care of trusty and confidential attendants, to Bruges, and there placed under the protection of their aunt, the Lady Lucy.

It may well be imagined that such a separation could not take place without a bitter pang to both parents. With Lady Nithsdale it was the instinctive tenderness of the mother which suffered at parting from the objects of her love; but she looked forward with hope and reliance that the long-desired moment had arrived, that they were at last on the eve of seeing realised the expectation, which in her mind amounted to a kind of religious trust. With her husband the feeling was different.

Lady Nithsdale wept as she bade her children adieu. Lord Nithsdale's eyes were dry. The last sound of their voices, the last embrace, melted away the heart of the mother. The father, silent and almost stern, scarcely heard their parting words; but as he watched the carriage which bore them from their paternal halls, pass under the archway and emerge into the brighter light beyond, he felt that the heir of the house of Maxwell had for ever quitted the tower of his ancestors; and that he, by his own act and deed, was about to deprive his child of his home, his heritage, his titles, and his country. Bitter were the thoughts which struggled in his soul. He turned abruptly from the portal, and strode with a hasty but firm step into the withdrawing-room beyond the hall.

Lady Nithsdale followed with streaming eyes; and winding her arm within her lord's, she spoke of the winning words of their boy, of the pretty grief of the Lady Anne. For the first time Lord Nithsdale forgot to soothe her sorrows, forgot to press the arm that clung to him for support; but throwing himself into a chair, he hid his face with both his hands, and remained for some seconds absorbed by emotions far more painful in their intensity than the tender regret which drew tears from the mother's eyes.

Those tears were, however, soon dried, for in the fearful grief of her husband she found cause for alarm, which changed the current of her thoughts. "My lord, my dear lord!" she said, "be not thus moved, the children will do well. See! I have dried my woman's tears. They will be well cared for by my good sister; and we shall see them soon again bounding through the hall, we shall hear their gay voices prattling on the stairs."

"Never, Winifred, never!" he replied, withdrawing his hands, and looking at her with a sad and fixed countenance; "never! I have banished my children; I have deprived my son of his lawful patrimony; I have now driven him forth to beggary, exile, and dependence. No Earl of Nithsdale will ever inhabit these halls again: I know it, I feel it! The lands I inherited from my forefathers must pass to others. Our castles will be desolate, our name extinct! But this is weakness all. I knew I hazarded all earthly goods when I devoted myself to the interests of my king. Alas! If I could but feel assured that I was truly devoting myself to the interests of my king, _and_ also of my country, I would not pause to think of my fair castle, my goodly lands!" And his eye glanced quickly round the noble apartment, and dwelt for a moment on the smiling prospect from the windows, where the Nith danced along the valley through banks diversified with fields of waving corn, and luxuriant copses, whose deep green contrasted beautifully with the yellow harvest.

During this momentary silence the distant sound of the bagpipe came fitfully on the ear, as its wild music cheered the reapers to their toil. "Though," he added, "the descendant of a long line of ancestors loves the halls where those ancestors have dwelt,--though the man loves the spot where he has wandered a child,--though," he continued, "a patriot loves the soil which gave him birth; yet," and his voice strengthened, his eye flashed upwards,--"gladly, willingly, gallantly, would I resign them all, were I certain that I indeed strove to secure my country's good, when I seek the restoration of my king."

Neither the countess nor her lord had ever contemplated the possibility of their deserting the Jacobite party; but they viewed the probable result of the enterprise, in which both deemed it equally indispensable to join, with very different eyes.

Even the success of his schemes did not to him hold out a prospect of certain good. Though a strict Catholic, he was no bigot; and he could not blind himself to the inexpediency of giving a Catholic king to a Protestant people.

To Lady Nithsdale, on the contrary, the peaceful restoration of the Stuarts appeared to be the universal panacea; and she devoutly believed that if that object could be accomplished without effusion of blood, all orders of British subjects must be good and happy. Little used, however, to join in political discussions, little accustomed indeed to hear them, she did not venture to urge any arguments of her own; yet she could not remain silent when she saw her lord thus moved, and timidly suggested--

"You are a true patriot, my lord; and that you yourself could not be content under the rule of a stranger and a heretic, is surely proof enough that neither could others, who have noble souls, be happy under his dominion. Does England boast any man whose name is fairer, whose character is more unblemished, than the kind, good, generous Earl of Derwentwater? he whose purse is open to the poor, whose hand is ever ready to assist the unfortunate? Must not he seek his country's good? Is not the Viscount Kenmure's name a noble and an honourable one? would he sacrifice his country? But why should I seek other names than my own dear lord's? The Earl of Nithsdale's is in itself a justification, and a sanction, of any cause he espouses!" she continued with warmth. Lord Nithsdale shook his head. "Our noble friend, the Duke of Ormond too! he has joined his majesty at Havre."

"Ah, Winifred! now you have touched the chord to which my soul vibrates. Such flagrant injustice must rouse the spirit in all honest hearts! Ormond's name must be restored! Ormond's banner must be replaced! Yes, we are driven to the course we are pursuing: we must proceed. Let us think no more; but blindly follow where honour, loyalty, friendship, consistency lead us, without anticipating what may be the event! To-morrow we shall receive the answer from Edinburgh--to-morrow I am a denounced rebel; I must join the other lords who are already seeking the Earl of Mar. But oh! Winifred! would any other general were appointed to the undertaking! That man has not the head, the heart, nor the character fitting for such a situation. He has zeal, but that is all. The honour--the undoubted, the unquestionable honour is wanting. Was he not one of the first to make protestations of loyalty to the Elector? and now----But there is no use in retrospection; we must on--on--on! To-morrow, my love, I leave you: how, when, where to meet, is in the hands of Providence."

Lady Nithsdale's eyes were cast to Heaven, and her hands involuntarily clasped themselves in prayer. "And now, dearest wife," he continued, "we must to business. You are safe here at present. I shall take but four men with me. The inmates of the castle, and the dependants immediately around, are more than sufficient to defend you from any ministers of the law who might seek to make you answerable for the actions of your husband. But, before I go, I must commit to your care the title-deeds to the estates, and the other papers, which may secure to us and to our children some property in case of the worst."

Lord Nithsdale then entered into all necessary details concerning his wishes and intentions, with a firm, methodical coolness, which proved how little he expected ever to return to the happy home of his youth and manhood.