"Ha! ha! ha!" was the only reply of the other.
"Dinna anger me," vociferated Charlie, in a nettled tone, looking at his pistol; "I tauld ye ye would get yer ser'in. There's nocht to hinder me frae giein ye't noo. There—tak that!" And in a moment the freebooter raised his pistol, and shot the unsuspecting Will o'Gunmerlie, who rolled from his horse in the agonies of death.
Sir James Johnstone, on hearing the shot and the groans of his murdered attendant, turned about to see what had happened, and (in the words of the old chronicler) "immediately Maxwell shot him behind his back with ane pistoll chairgit with two poysonit bullets." The unfortunate chief fell from his horse; and, although he lingered for some time, his wound was mortal. He lived, however, so long as to declare his wishes with regard to various weighty matters, and to utter a word of consolation to Orchardstone, whose grief was rendered agonising by the recollection that his credulity had been the means of hastening the death of Sir James.
Lord Maxwell immediately proceeded to the Castle of the Thrieve, where a large company was assembled, for the purpose, as they thought, of celebrating the reconciliation betwixt the two clans, and also the marriage of the chief with Lady Margaret Hamilton, who had been conducted thither by her brother. On Lord Maxwell's return, he sought a private interview with the marquis—told him what he had done—asked him to communicate the circumstances to the bride, and learn whether she would be wedded to a man whose hand was newly stained with blood.
"But he has slain his enemy in honourable battle," said Lady Margaret; "he has borne himself like a true knight; and, even though he may now depart for a season, the king has pardoned more heinous offences."
When the reply was reported to the baron, he muttered, with that sneering the which betrays the bitterness of the heart—"In honourable fight!—most honourable! Would it had been so!—But I will not now undeceive her."
The nuptials proceeded; the festivities were commenced, and continued to a late hour. Early on the following morning, the baron left his weeping bride, and, with his faithful retainer, Charlie o'Kirkhouse, hastened in disguise from his own home and country.
Notwithstanding all the efforts of the Marquis of Hamilton and other friends of the expatriated Baron of Nithsdale, no pardon could be extorted from King James—whose virtue seems for once to have been proof against all the temptations and threats which his most powerful Scottish subjects could hold forth. Lord Maxwell's peace of mind was gone; for all that was dear to him—his country and kindred—were at a distance; the engrossing object of his thought for many years past had been attained; and his memory would not allow him to forget that his revenge had been accomplished by meanly assassinating his enemy. After he had remained for about three or four years, wasting the prime of his days in exile and in misery, he learned that Lady Margaret was in bad spirits; then in bad health; then that her life was despaired of; and he resolved, at all hazards, to revisit Scotland. But, before his voyage was ended, Lady Margaret had breathed her last—heart-broken in the midst of those enjoyments—wealth, power, and rank—which are fondly supposed, by those who possess them not, and by not a few who do possess them, to be the infallible means of securing human felicity. The only object which made life worth retaining, in the estimation of Lord Maxwell, was thus snatched from him; and he would have immediately delivered himself up to justice, had it not been for the remonstrances of his faithful attendant, Charlie o'Kirkhouse. The family of Sir James Johnstone, as well as the constituted authorities, hunted the baron over the whole country; until, after frequently enduring the extremity of distress, he was seized in the wilds of Caithness, to which he had ultimately been driven. The indefatigable industry of his hereditary foes pursued him even to this distant retreat; and he was brought to Edinburgh, where, once more, he returned to his old quarters in the castle.
Among the friends who came to visit him, with the view of concerting measures for his defence, was the Marquis of Hamilton.
"Do you know that they mean to rob Charles of his birthright?" said the baron, on the entrance of his friend. "Oh, my good lord, such deeds would never have been done, had some of your ancestors filled the seat of the mean-spirited prince who rules this unhappy country."