"Though I am a stranger, an intruder, one who even now is bringing danger on her beloved son!" said Julia, almost sadly.
"You know not Dorothea Stuart," answered Gowrie. "Were the pursuers close upon your steps, my love, were every danger and misfortune following you close, it would only render you dearer to her--it would only make her whole soul rise to serve you. However, I will write to her this very night, telling her all I wish, and the reasons thereof. You shall carry the letter with you; and if everything is not performed as zealously and punctually as if I were there myself, my mother is changed indeed, and has lost all love for me. Now, dearest Julia, retire to rest; you shall be roused in time, and everything shall be prepared for your departure: alas! that I must add, for our parting, too; but it shall not be a long one, dear girl. Whenever occasion serves that I can get away without observation, I will be on the way to Trochrie, for my heart will lie buried there with you, and even in the midst of crowds I shall be solitary."
Julia could not answer, for her heart was too full--it was like a cup brimming over, and the least thing that shook her would have spilt the precious drops within. One silent pressure of the hand, and they parted for the night; but when she was gone, Gowrie stood and mused with sad and painful thoughts, and ere she sought her pillow she bent her head and wept.
CHAPTER XXV.
There was a fine old house, as we should call it now, but which was then in great part a modern one, although the beating and buffeting of angry winds, and the dark breath of the storm, had blackened it ere more than sixty years had passed since the foundation-stone was laid. It was built in a style of which there are very few specimens in England, though several in France; but that is easily accounted for, inasmuch as during the greater portion of the short period assigned to that particular style, contentions of one kind or another had existed between the court of London and that of Paris, and the communication between England and Italy was extremely limited. Very different had been the case with Scotland, the connexion between which country and France had been cemented by many ties, while an infinite number of the young noblemen of the north completed their education either at Paris or at one of the universities of Italy. The Tudor architecture in churches is well known; and although there is something in the breast of every man of taste which tells him that there is a want of purity of conception and grandeur of design therein, yet it is very beautiful in its kind. So much, however, can hardly be said in favour of the social architecture of the period; and perhaps less still, in point of really good taste, were the pretensions of that Italian style, in which one front of Dirleton House was constructed. The windows were large and many, divided by stone mullions, and having pilasters between, light and airy, but of no order under the sun, and panels covered with rich and fantastic arabesques.
The whole had an air of lightness and richness, notwithstanding its incongruous and unmeaning details; but at the hour of which I speak, and at which a little cavalcade consisting of seven horses approached the front, nothing could be seen of the elaborate ornaments, and the whole building lay in the midst of the grey woods that surrounded it, a large and sombre pile of building, with a cheerful light streaming through two or three of the casements. Weary with travelling, anxious and apprehensive, Julia looked up to Dirleton House with a cold feeling of dread and gloom. Vain had been Gowrie's assurances of a kind reception: she felt that she was a wanderer--a fugitive, claiming protection and aid, even to their own peril, from persons on whom she had no claim, and who were strangers to her in all the kindly relations of the heart. Her timidity became more and more great as she approached the principal entrance of the house, which projected before the rest, with a sort of terrace and flight of steps of its own. Fancy was very busy, and showed her the strange looks with which she would be at first received, the stately lady of royal race, the two or three tall and lordly striplings, her sons, all gazing upon her as a stranger, and wondering what brought her there.
"I will send in the letter first," she thought; "they will then know who I am, at least; and I shall soon see by my reception whether I am a welcome guest or not. It will be bad enough at the best----Here, Austin," she said, when, having ridden up to the terrace by one of the two slopes at the sides, the man sprang to hold her rein, and assist her to dismount,--"here, Austin, take this letter in. Deliver it into the Countess of Gowrie's own hand, and tell her that I wait her pleasure without."
The man looked surprised, but took the letter, and approached the great door, by the side of which hung an immense massive iron ring, notched all over the inner side, with a small iron bar beside it suspended from a chain, Austin gazed at this strange-looking instrument by the faint light, and felt it with his hand, but could make nothing of it. He was looking for some other means of making their presence known within, when the other servant, David Drummond, a heavy, sinister-looking man, started forward, and taking hold of the ring, soon produced a sound, by running the iron bar over the notches in the inside, sufficient to call two or three servants to the door.
Austin was immediately admitted, and disappeared from Julia's sight, while the other servant shook hands with an old friend, one of the domestics of the countess, and seemed to explain who the fair guest was, for the porter came instantly forward, and with a civil tone, but in such broad Scotch that she could scarcely understand him, asked if she would not alight and come in, as he was quite sure his mistress would be very glad to see her.
"I will alight," said Julia, accepting his assistance, "for I am very weary of my horse's back; but as to the rest, I will wait;" and springing to the ground, she leaned her arm upon the saddle, the tired beast standing quite still by her side.