“With your leave, dear father, and that of this noble Earl,” replied Charley, “I shall hastily run over the outline of our history.—A fair wind bore us to France, where we were soon transported to Paris. There we were well received, and well lodged, at the sign of the Cock, in the street of St. Martin, and all manner of expenses were defrayed from the French treasury, for the Duke and his attendants, to the number of twelve persons. We lived a merry life, mingling in all the shows and pageants of the French court, and proving our horsemanship with the French cavaliers, with no manner of disgrace on my humble part, and with great honour on the part of my royal master. But soon after this, some paltry jealousies and suspicions broke out against us, fostered, no doubt, by certain Scots, who had the secret ear of the King of France, and the secret authority of James of Scotland. Prudence led the royal Duke to travel in the provinces for a time, and under the disguise of an errant knight, he wandered about, with me as his esquire, doing feats of arms every where. Then it was that De Tremouille could report nothing of me, for I was altogether in disguise, doing the most agreeable service to my high and most kind master.”
“How camest thou to leave so good and honourable a service then?” demanded the Knight.
“Simply on this ground,” replied Charley. “A certain correspondence began to arise between my royal master and Edward of England. Whilst this was going on, the Duke, who always showed most kindly towards me, took me one day into his private apartment, and told me in confidential secrecy, that a certain treaty was on foot between him and the English king, with the intent of their uniting to make war upon Scotland. I was largely promised wealth and honours if I would follow his Highness to England. But, albeit that I should have been fain to have followed him all over the world, I could in nowise bring myself to fight against the country of my birth, or against that country which held my father, and whose king I held to be my father’s friend—that country which held her—a—a—that country, I mean, which was a—dear to me from many a tender recollection—and that country, above all, which held my much loved and most affectionate and most revered mother.”
“Poor, kind, and amiable boy!” murmured Sir Walter Stewart, groaning deeply, “little knowest thou what a shock thou hast yet to receive!”
“I could not fight against such a land,” continued Charley, without observing this scarcely audible interruption. “And on my so declaring this, and setting forth my reasons before my royal master, he kindly, and, as he was pleased to say, with regret, gave me his princely licence to depart; and as he had little to bestow, he honoured me by putting this massive gold chain around my neck, and I parted from him, after receiving his gracious thanks for the fidelity of my services, and with many friendly commendations on the Duke’s part to you. I left him in the more honourable, yet not more faithful, hands, of Monipeny and Concressault, who are now with him. Having taken ship and reached the shores of Scotland, I made the best of my way to my native Strath, and there, learning that thou hadst but recently left it, I hasted, with all speed, to follow thee hither.”
“Thou hast well judged, and well acted, my dear boy!” said the Knight, embracing him. “By mine honour, but thou dost prove, by thy words, that thy head hath gained as much in solid sense as thy person and manners have gathered in strength and grace. My Lord of Huntly, since Charley hath thus, by God’s mercy, turned up alive, thou must now see done for him, that which I, in such a case provided, as I already told thee. To thee then I leave it to see him duly enfeoffed in the place and lands of Kilmaichly, on a part of which he was born, and this I have bestowed upon him and his heirs in property for ever.”
“Be assured I shall see this desire of thine most strictly executed,” said Lord Huntly.
“Thanks, thanks, most gracious father!” cried Charles Stewart, throwing himself again upon Sir Walter’s neck. “Yet would I consider it a far greater boon, to be allowed to follow thee in whatever emprise thou mayst now be bound to.”
“That which I am boune after, boy, is too solemn for thy years,” replied Sir Walter Stewart, gravely. “Thou art as yet too young to quit the haunts of men, and sins hast thou but few to drive thee thence, unless mine be visited upon thee. But, hold! thou wouldst seem to have a fair companion there. Tell me, I pray thee, hast thou brought a French wife with thee? Alas, rash youth, thou knowest not what perils are to be found within the silken meshes of the toils of matrimony! Hath not thine own past experience of the fickle nature of woman cured thee of love?”
“Nay, nay, my good and honoured father,” replied Charley, “so far as I am concerned, I have learned, to my great joy, though to my sad remorse and contrition, that woman’s love, when pure and virtuous, is inextinguishable by all the storms and tides of adverse fate. My Rosa was true, and she yet lives for me and me alone, and I was the rash insane tool of one who was more an evil spirit than a woman. Thanks be to God, too, that I have not the crime of murder on my conscience, for I have learned that my benefactor, Sir Piers Gordon, yet lives.”