Angus seemed altogether changed. He could not keep to one subject, nor stand still for one minute. I was not much surprised so long as it was only he; but I was astonished when I saw the change which came over my Uncle Drummond. I never supposed he could get so excited about anything which had to do with earth. And yet his first thought was to connect it with Heaven. (Note 1.)
I shall never forget the ring of his prayer that night. An exile within sight of home, a prisoner to whom the gates had just been opened, might have spoken in the words and tones that he did.
“Lord, Thou hast been gracious unto Thy land!” “Let them give thanks whom the Lord hath redeemed, and delivered from the hand of the enemy!” That was the key-note of every sentence.
I found, before long, that I had caught the complaint myself. I went about singing, “The King shall ha’e his ain again,” and got as hot and eager for fresh news as anybody.
“Oh dear, I hope the Prince will conquer the Elector before I go to London,” I said to Flora: “for I do not know whatever Grandmamma will say if I go to her in this mood. She always says there is nothing so vulgar as to get enthusiastic over anything. You ought to be calm, composed, collected, and everything else which is cold and begins with C.”
Flora laughed, but was grave again directly.
“I expect, Cary, your journey to London is a long way off,” said she. “How are you to travel, if all the country be up, and troops going to and fro everywhere?”
“I am sure I don’t care if it be,” said I. “I would rather stay here, a great deal.”
I thought we were tolerably warm about the Prince’s landing, at Abbotscliff; but when I got to Monksburn, I found the weather still hotter. The Laird is almost beside himself; Mr Keith as I never saw him before. Annas has the air of an inspired prophetess, and even Lady Monksburn is moved out of her usual quietude, though she makes the least ado of any. News came while we were there, that Sir John Cope had been so hard pressed by the King’s army that he was forced to fall back on Inverness; and nothing would suit the Laird but to go out and make a bonfire on the first hill he came to, so as to let people see that something had happened. The Elector, we hear, has come back from Hanover, and his followers are in a panic, I hope they will stay there.
Everybody agrees that the army will march southwards at once after this victory, and that unless my journey could take place directly, I shall have to stay where I am, at least over the winter. The Laird wishes he could get Annas out of the way. If I were going, I believe he would send her with me, to those friends of Lady Monksburn in the Isle of Wight. I thought Lady Monksburn looked rather anxious, and wistful too, when he spoke about it. Annas herself did not seem to care.