"May I live to requite it! 'Tis an ancient house, and one of unblemished honour. Are you Catholic?"
"No, I am a Presbyterian."
"Then the greater honour is due to you for disinterested loyalty. And yours, Sir?"
"Douglas of Finland—a lieutenant under the Lord Dunbarton."
"Another forfeiture!" exclaimed James, striking his breast; "and yours, Sir?"
"Drumquhasel—first major to the same noble earl," replied the tali cavalier, on whose breast sparkled the cross of St. Louis.
"Another, and another! Oh, gentlemen, your sufferings and your losses, your loyalty and your truth—God may requite them adequately, but I never can!" exclaimed James, in a troubled voice, and when he had inserted the names of the whole hundred and fifty in his note book, he moved again to the front, and taking off his hat, bowed profoundly with an air in which thankfulness and respect were exquisitely blended with dignity and majesty. He then retired pensively towards the palace; but painfully aware of the misery of those who suffered for him, and still unwilling to leave them, with sensations too deep for utterance, the unhappy King returned once more, and bowing to them again and again, covered his face with his handkerchief, and burst into tears. Animated by one sympathetic impulse, the whole line sank at once upon their knees and bowed their heads; the spirit of many a brave man was subdued; several wept, and there was not an unmoistened eye among them. The King, in particular, was deeply affected; his sobs were audible; and again removing his hat, he raised his eyes to heaven, and exclaimed, in the words of the last chapter of Lamentations,—
"Remember, O Lord, what is come upon us! Consider and behold our reproach! Our inheritance is returned to strangers—our houses to aliens!"
He repeatedly smote himself upon the breast in an energetic fashion he had acquired among the Jesuits, who had been too much about him for his own fortune; and a long pause succeeded, until Lord Dunbarton gave for the last time the word of command. The Scottish officers resumed their aspect of steadiness and order, and marched past the King, whom nearly all of them were fated to behold no more; for death on the field, disease in the camp, poverty and despair, did their work surely and rapidly, and few of that brave but forlorn band ever returned from the frontiers of Spain.
From Versailles this company of unfortunate cavaliers received an order to join the army of Mareschal Noailles; and, next day, they set out from St. Germain, on their long and weary march of nine hundred miles, which they performed on foot, heavily accoutred, bearing their own camp-kettles and equipages, and accompanied by miseries and mortifications that baffle all description; but which, by the indomitable spirit and ardour that animated them, they seldom failed to surmount.