“Aye,” said the General, a Perthshire man himself, “I wondered that ye should bear a Scots name in front of an English, Captain Windham. I suppose yon Keith will have been in a Scottish regiment, but I don’t mind of him. ’Tis thirty-six years syne, ye ken—a lang time, more than your hale lifetime, young man.”
So John Keith, who had fallen on a Flanders battlefield nearly forty years before, became more misty than ever. But Captain Windham’s pre-natal connection with a Scot of Malplaquet had interested old Preston in him, and he announced an intention of reporting on the zeal and vigilance which the officer of the Royals had displayed in the defence of the Castle.
From his chair the old General beckoned to that officer now, and sent his servant out of hearing.
“Captain Windham, a word in your ear!” And, as Keith stooped, he said gleefully, “’Tis a good word, if ever there was one. I’ve every reason to believe that Edinburgh will be free of these Highland pests the morn!”
Keith gave an exclamation. “They are evacuating the city, sir?”
The veteran chuckled. “They intend marching for England, whence I pray not a man of ’em will return alive. The news has just come in by a sure hand, but I had jaloused it already. In a day or two ye’ll not see a plaid between Greyfriars and the Nor’ Loch!”
General Preston’s sure hand had carried perfectly correct tidings. Against the wishes and the instincts of the Chiefs, Prince Charles was about to march into England, believing that he would thus rally to his standard those cautious English Jacobites on whose promised support he built such large hopes, and many others too, who had made no promises, but who would surely declare for him when he appeared in person to lead them against their alien ruler.
And early on the morning of the first of November Ewen took his farewell of Alison in Hyndford’s Close. Lochiel’s regiment, like the bulk of the army, was already assembled at Dalkeith; for since Prestonpans the Prince had never quartered troops in the city to any great extent, and he himself was already gone. But Ewen, in order to be with his own men in this strange country to which they were bound, had resigned his position as aide-de-camp, and remained behind in order to bring away the Cameron guard, who would presently march out of Edinburgh with colours flying and the pipes playing.
But here there was no martial display, only a knowledge that this, and not the farewell at Ardroy in August, was the real parting. Ewen was setting off to-day for something much more portentous than a mere rendezvous—armed invasion. Yet some unspoken instinct made them both try to be very matter-of-fact, especially Alison.