“Look in the twenty-third of Deuteronomy,” replied Ephraim, “the fifteenth verse. The passage itself refers to a slave, but it must be equally applicable to a political fugitive.”
“I will look,” I answered. “But tell me, Ephraim, can nothing be done for Angus?”
“If it can, it will be done,” he made answer.
He said no more, but from his manner I could not but fancy that somebody was trying to do something.
I never had two letters at once, by the same post, in my life: but this morning two came—one from Flora, and one from my Aunt Kezia. Flora’s is not long: it says that she and Annas have reached the Isle of Wight in safety, and were but three hours a-crossing from Portsmouth; and she begs me, if I can obtain it, to send her some news of Angus. My Lady De Lannoy was extreme kind to them both, and Flora says she is very comfortable, and would be quite happy but for her anxiety about my Uncle Drummond and Angus. My Uncle Drummond has not writ once, and she is very fearful lest some ill have befallen him.
My Aunt Kezia’s letter is long, and full of good counsel, which I am glad to have, for I do find the world a worse place than I thought it, and yet not in the way I expected. She warns me to have a care lest my tongue get me into trouble; and that is one of the dangers I find, and did not look for. Father is well, and all other friends: and I am not to be surprised if I should hear of Sophy’s marriage. Fanny gets on very well, and makes a better housekeeper than my Aunt Kezia expected. But I have spent much thought over the last passage of her letter, and I do not like it at all:—
“Is Hatty yet in Charles Street? We have had but one letter from the child in all this time, and that was short and told nothing. I hope you see her often, and can give us some tidings. Squire Bracewell writ to your father a fortnight gone that he was weary of dwelling alone, and as the Prince’s army is in retreat, he thinks it now safe to have the girls home. If this be so, we shall soon have Hatty here. I have writ to her, by your father’s wish, that she is not to tarry behind.”
I cried aloud when I came to this: “The Prince in retreat from Derby! Uncle Charles, do you know anything of it? Sure, it can never be true!”
“Nonsense!” he made answer. “Some silly rumour, no doubt.”