CHAPTER XXI.
ALICE.
"Oh! peace to the ashes of those that have bled
For the land where the proud thistle raises its head!
* * * *
Though their lives are extinguished their spirit remains,
And swells in their blood that still runs in our veins;
Still their deathless achievements our ardour awakes,
For the honour and weal of the dear land of cakes."
William Knox.
At night he was again in Edinburgh, the centre of Scottish science, industry, hospitality, eccentricity, and learning; Edinburgh, equally celebrated for the beauty of its ladies, and the most profound cunning of its lawyers.
It was after drum-beat, that is, eight o'clock in the evening, when he arrived at the castle. The place seemed empty and deserted: save the sentinels on the batteries, not a soul was to be seen. The mess-room was dark and silent, a sure sign of something extraordinary, as the officers were stanch votaries of Bacchus, and seldom roosted before twelve. It immediately occurred to Stuart that some great conflagration, or other cause of disturbance, had happened, and that the magistrates had ordered the regiment into the city. To ascertain the truth, he descended the citadel stairs to the main guard-house, a building situated under the brow of the rock on which the chapel stands, and from the crowning parapet of which Mons Meg overlooks the city and surrounding country.
"Well, Douglas, you seem commandant here," said Ronald to the officer on duty, as he entered.
"How! back already, Stuart? I understood you had leave for six months."
"Never mind; you'll hear all by-and-bye. I hope I may need it yet; but you seem to have the place to yourself, and to be very sulky too. I heard you swearing roundly at the drummer just now."
"The little rascal allowed the fire to go out; and as to being sulky, in truth it would vex an apostle, or Job himself, to be left here in command of this dismal post, when all our fellows are enjoying themselves so famously in the city. Yesterday there was a splendid dinner, a regular banquet given to the sergeants and soldiers by the inhabitants of Edinburgh. It was served up in the assembly-rooms; the great poet, Walter Scott, in the chair, supported by the sergeant-major on his right hand, and grim-visaged Ronald-dhu on the left. A jovial night they had of it! Every cart and other vehicle in Edinburgh was put in requisition to convey our men home, as their legs had somehow failed them. To-night the entire battalion was marched down to the theatre, free tickets to which have been given to every man, from wing to wing. The officers all went off about an hour ago to a splendid ball, to which they have been invited by the élite of Edinburgh. It has been got up on a scale never witnessed here before; our ball at Aranjuez is nothing to it. The first people in Scotland will be there,—beauty, fashion, and all that; while here am I, cooped up in this d—ned guard-room! I have a dozen minds to slip down and mingle with the crowd: Campbell will be too much mystified about Egypt, by this time, to know me, and I believe I might pass unnoticed."
"Very disagreeable, certainly; but not so bad as a wet bivouac on the Sierra de Guadaloupe. Your medal, too; you lose an opportunity of displaying it before some of the brightest eyes in Scotland. But the service—"