It is not to be supposed that the street had the same appearance which it now exhibits; neither are the unsophisticated to imagine that the shops resembled those of our own times, with lofty roofs, gigantic windows, mahogany counters, splendid chandeliers, and elegant gas burners. The windows were not much larger than the loop-holes of a modern prison; the roof was low and covered with cobwebs, and the goods exposed for sale were all lying at sixes and sevens. The forepart of the shop extended about ten feet forward into the street, and was decorated on the outside with swatches of the various commodities that were to be sold within. In the back shop, which was nearly as dark as midnight, were deposited the whole of the goods, except the specimens just mentioned. In the inmost recess of these penetralia, was Provost Leslie, with three or four stout fellows, removing, under his command, the goods in the back shop or warehouse.
“Saunders,” said the provost, “ye’ll tak awa yon silks an’ velvets, and put them into the vault i’ the dryest—ay, that’s anither flask broken, ye careless gowk! I’ll set ye about your business gin ye wunna tak mair tent. As soon’s you get that barrel awa, ye’ll tak down the Prayer-Books from that shelf, and put up twa or three dozen o’ Confessions o’ Faith. An’, my little man, ye’ll run up to my lasses, and tell them to leave a’ their wark an’ come down to grease the sword blades, for fear that they rust in the cellar, an’ syne tell the same to Sammy Fairtext’s maidens, an’ bring them a’ wi’ you as fast’s ye can.—Ay, Basil, are ye there? Troth, gentle or semple, ye maun help’s the day. You are a canny lad, sae try if ye can collect a’ the trinkets and the siller cups and spoons, and take them up by to my chamber.—Ye ne’er-do-weel! ye haverel, Sandie Hackit, what garred you spill the wine on that web? Ye needna mind it now, ye sorrow; it’s nae worth puttin’ out o’ Montrose’s way.”
When Basil Rolland returned from executing his commission, the stranger whom he had seen on the former day was in the shop, engaged in conversation with Fairtext. The latter bade Basil conduct him to his house, whether he himself would follow when he had dispatched some necessary business. When they were seated, the stranger began—
“Thou hast seen, youth, that the things which I hinted to thee are in part come to pass. The city is in confusion, the men of war are discouraged, so that they will assuredly be a prey, and a spoil, and a derision to their adversaries. What dost thou now intend?”
“What but to join the army of Aboyne, and do battle with my best blood against these murdering rebels.”
“And what would be thy reward, young man? Thy good sense tells thee that it is wrong to deprive free-born men of liberty of conscience. You would fight for your own slavery. Charles is one who regardeth not covenants. He will reward jugglers and lewd ones, rather than those who have shed their blood for his wicked house. But he already totters on his throne, and the day may not be distant when he himself shall cry for mercy from those whose fathers, mothers, and children he hath slain. If you are vanquished in the approaching contest, all with you is lost; if successful, you are nothing the better, except for upholding a Papistical hierarchy, the raw project of a godless debauchee. Thy grandfather did battle on the wrong side, and, after his fall at the battle of Pinkie, the family fell from its former power, which it has never been able to regain.”
“Let me ask what comfort or reward could I expect by deserting my friends? The Covenanters have renounced their oath of allegiance, and have imbrued their hands in their countrymen’s blood. Good can never follow an enterprise begun by perjury, and continued with carnage.”
“And did not Charles first deliberately break his oath and the covenant made with the people? The paction was therefore nullified by him, and could not bind the other party. If they have shed blood, their blood has been shed; and it was not till every attempt at pacification failed that they took up the carnal weapon. And, for comfort, I have long supported this cause, and I can look back with greater pleasure to my conduct in this respect than thou canst on the picture of thy lady love which even now is peeping from thy bosom.”
“It is my mother’s picture,” said Basil, blushing to the eyes.
“Thy mother’s!” said the stranger, while, with an emotion which he had not yet exhibited, he caught at the picture with such violence as to break the silken riband with which it was suspended, and, unconscious of Basil’s presence, riveted his eyes upon it, scanning the features with the greatest eagerness.