"Great God!" interrupted the prisoner, in a bewilderment increasing each instant, despite the many emotions of the situation. "You are no servant of Boyd's! Are you his kinsman? I have heard your voice, seen you before! For the love of Heaven lean forward where I can see your countenance clearly. I am called Hugh Chisholm."
Lord Armitage complied. He must have expected, indeed, some special recognition; for at the sound of that low-spoken name, "Hugh Chisholm," he bent toward the other man, and in a distinct tone and with a piercingly anxious glance he repeated it—"Hugh Chisholm? Can it be the same Chisholm? And if you be from the Braes of Glenmoriston, and are sent to find in high-road or hedge one Lord Geoffry Armitage, and answer to his challenge of the Lost Cause"—and he whispered it—"I am he whom you seek, he who has despaired of meeting you or your fellows since he left Sheilar."
The self-control of the other seemed for an instant nearly overthrown. He murmured some words in a foreign tongue, with so passionate an inflection that Lord Armitage checked him.
"'Tis as I scarcely dared hope!" said the latter, continuing in the fluent French which his overjoyed interlocutor seemed entirely to understand. "Yes, you find me here. And that it should be you, and I, I not recognize you at sight! Did Patrick Grant send to Sheilar? I see; I had left the house before the message could get thither. Here, let me cut those thongs—the hounds, to so tighten them!"
Lord Armitage severed them; and he who had endured them was with difficulty prevented from kneeling at his feet, in what may have been a thrill of delight and gratitude—or another feeling. But there was only too much employment for the few moments, any one of which was liable to fatal interruption. As it was, some outside sound made their hearts stop beating; but all remained calm again, and they spoke on in lower and quicker voices.
"I would have been here early this afternoon but for this luckless meeting with Jermain and his men on the road, and their capture of me. I had a companion with me, Rab Kaims, but he escaped in the forest. I was in despair when they bound me; but scarcely could I believe my senses when I found that they had turned to Windlestrae, the very place where Grant expected us to find you! I was able to breathe part of my tidings in the ear of that lad—Boyd's son, I fancy—awhile since. He told you? So! My security rested in my feigning to be more wretched and wounded than I am. But, oh, Heaven! your daring, my gracious lord, bewilders me. Suppose that——"
"Suppose nothing, Chisholm! Long ago in Paris I used to tell you that destiny would support me through any peril. But what brings Danforth here so unlooked for?"
"In Neith, the garrison and he have suddenly suspected Boyd's politics to be quite mistaken hereabouts. Danforth gathered that a refugee had taken flight from Sheilar Manse in this direction. Yesterday Patrick Grant had word from Neith that Danforth was for riding over here after sunrise, examining Boyd and formally searching this manor. He comes; and you must be far away!"
"I far away, Chisholm? Truly. But where? Surely you cannot convey me to—to the place of which you and I know, in the short time between now and day-break?"
"I can! Why not? Morning must find us both there, in safety and among loyal hearts. Naught prevents. It is more than likely that Grant has provided for our being met on the way. The man Kaims is fleet. They will all rely on my escaping, be sure."