“She’s a traitoress,” exclaimed one of the Lowlanders, whose face might have been mistaken for a smoke-dried ham, for he was the only ill favoured soldier in the company.
“Hold,” thundered forth one of their leaders, who came out from the palace, and his fiery eye rebuked the rude soldiers, who had gathered round to support their comrades, in whatever they might be pleased to do, against the unprotected Alice, and her companion; “cowards, to attack and frighten a lady! It would be gallantry,” he added, turning to the Lowlander, “were you to show your back to a lady, and conceal that face of yours. She would excuse you, for in your case it would not be considered as a breach of manners. Manners! but what know you of manners? Fair lady, my sentinel informs me that you seek your brother, who is a captain in the Manchester regiment, this day enlisted, as volunteers, in the Prince’s cause. See, they make a way for you. Step in.”
The young soldier who spoke, was Hector McLean, a leader of the north, and one of the many Scottish gentlemen of rank, who, for their ready attachment to his cause, had been knighted by the Pretender. The accent of his country was slightly perceptible, and there was something so friendly in his voice, that Alice halted, to obtain some further information concerning her brother, or some directions by which she might be guided to him; and her companion, who had been altogether silent, seemingly absorbed in her own thoughts, did not urge her on. But as her eyes fell upon the handsome form of the knight, so martial in his bearing, although but of slender proportions, she blushed deeply, and half repented that she had not forthwith entered. He doffed his bonnet, gallantly, and respectfully, as she stood before him,—announced his name, and offered her his services. “Fair lady, you appear to have been in tears. Are they shed for your brother? Think not by any eloquence, aye, even that of affection, to turn him from his purpose, and make him insensible to his duty. His sovereign has a claim prior to his sister. And could you deprive the brave Chevalier of a hope of victory?”
“He has left an aged and infirm father,” sobbed Alice, “and we are unprotected. He himself is not inured to war, for the cloisters of a college have been his only camp. Oh! gallant knight,” and she looked up, with a countenance, as innocent and artless as it was mournful, “entreat my brother to return!”
“I must deny you,” he gently replied. “The captain is an acquisition, and already has gained the confidence of the Prince. Your fair brow, may be soon encircled with honours, won by your brother, from a grateful master. When you have seen him, you shall return home, and pray for his safety, and that of the Prince.”
As he spoke, Alice felt her companion shudder. The young Prophetess knelt down, and muttered some words in a low, but wild tone. Rising up, she drew Alice closer to her, and madly exclaimed,—
“Almighty One, keep her alone, join not their fates—but ah! it cannot be! Brother and lover will ruin her, and death, death is her lot. The poison is to lurk in every sweet rose, for you. I know it. And she, the beautiful one, your companion in the vale, now too must see her dream vanish. Oh, their heads mount the poles in the public streets. I cannot see them; thank God, yours shall be spared such scorn, but languid for many a night shall they lie on the pillow, and then, they must find rest in an early grave.”
She twined herself around Alice, kissed her cheeks, and wept.
The chieftain stood silent and astonished, not being able to comprehend the scene; but Alice trembled, and almost sunk to the ground. He placed her hand within his. “Come, and you will straightway have an interview with him. He is now closeted with the Prince, and his officers, consulting together upon some military plans.”
They entered:—the inside of the palace was fitted up with great magnificence; and the spacious hall of audience was adorned with portraits of the Stuart family, on which the lights were gleaming brightly, and but for the gilded and embossed frames, they might have been mistaken for the living sovereigns, who, by nature, were endowed with the highest talents to sway an empire, but whose imprudence and licentiousness expelled them from the throne. The beautiful Queen of Scotland shone forth with a loveliness which none but a royal old maid and prude, could have doomed to death. She, who had been the wife of three husbands, still seemed to have more love and affection in those bright features, than the Holy Virgin of England, who never had a lover. The first Charles was painted there, as he stood on the scaffold, and his eyes were raised joyfully from the block, to see, in vision, the crown of heaven, which no weapon could take from the Lord’s annointed. The light threw a beautiful longing of immortality over his features. At the further end of the hall, hanging from the ceiling to the floor, was a green silk curtain, behind which was the door leading to the Chevalier’s apartments. This was the only screen from the face of royalty. Sir Hector, however, led Alice through a sliding, at the right wing, and stood, for a little, opposite to a door, above which were the Prince’s arms. At that moment it opened, and Charles Edward, with young Dawson, appeared. The latter rushed into the embrace of his sister. She beheld the uniform, and her hand was upon the sash by which he was belted, still she clung fondly to him, although she could not utter a word. Sir Hector McLean gave the Pretender an explanation; who, stepping up, gently took the hand of Alice.