The institution of fines and oaths of assurance upon absentees from Parliament, which had direct reference to certain Cavalier Lords and lesser Barons, exasperated them as much as the horrible massacre of Glencoe did the commonalty, who raised throughout the land a cry for vengeance on William and his Government.
Walter Fenton reflected on these things as he walked onward, and knew that he had come at a critical time. Other thoughts soon succeeded, and, grasping his staff as he had often done his sword, he pushed forward with a sparkling eye and reddening cheek.
Without impairing his nobler sentiments, suffering and misfortune had powerfully strengthened his loyalty and virtue, as much as campaigning had improved his bearing and lent a firmness and manly determination to his aspect; but often his brow saddened and the fire of his eye died away, when he thought of Finland and those he had been permitted to survive and to mourn.
Glowing with sensations of rapture, and eagerly anticipating the flush of joy that awaited him, he passed the rhinns of the beautiful loch, the curious gable-ended old house where once the Regent Murray dwelt, and approached the gate of Bruntisfield.
His heart beat painfully; he was deeply agitated. Five weary years had elapsed since he had stood on that spot, and it seemed only as yesterday. Through all the hurry of events that had swept over him, his memory went back to that memorable eve of September (of which this was now the anniversary) and to the glorious ardour that animated his heart on the day he marched for England, when the long line of the Scottish host wound over yonder hill before him. Oh, for one hour more of those fierce longings and brave impulses! But alas! the spirit seemed to have passed away for ever.
He approached the avenue. The old gate with its massive arch, its mossy carvings and loopholed wall, had given place to a handsome new erection of more modern architecture, surmounted by a rich coat of arms; and Walter felt every pulse grow still, and every fibre tremble as he surveyed the sculptured blazon.
It bore the saltire of Napier, engrailed between four roses, but quartered, collared, and coroneted with other bearings.
His heart became sick and palsied. Oh, it was a horrible sensation that came over him; he stood long irresolute and apprehensive.
"Of what am I afraid!" he suddenly exclaimed with the enthusiasm of a true and impassioned lover. "There is some mistake here; the house has been sold or gifted away like many another noble patrimony to the slaves of the Statholder. Lilian! Dear Lilian, when shall I hold thee in my arms?"
He was about to rush forward, when a horseman, the glittering lace on whose bright coloured suit of triple velvet, and waving ostrich feathers that fluttered in his diamond hat-band, formed a strong contrast to the sombre fashions of the time, dashed down the leaf-strewn avenue on a beautiful charger, with the perfumed ringlets of his white peruke dancing in the wind—for white perukes, from a spirit of opposition, were all the rage then, as black had been under the three last princes of the old hereditary line. It was Lord Clermistonlee.