The Collected Western Classics & Adventures Novels. William MacLeod Raine
with what a fine colour and impetuous audacity she had done this or looked that. He was wont in advance to plan out conversations, to decide that he would tell her some odd brain fancy and watch her while he told it. Many an hour he spent in the fairy land of imagination; many a one he dreamed away in love castles built of fancied rambles in enchanted woods, of sweet talks in which he always said and did the right thing; destined alas! never to pass from mind to speech, for if ever tongue essayed the telling it faltered some fatuous abortion as little like love’s dream as Caliban resembled Ariel. Fresh from the brave world of day-dreams, still smiling happily from some whimsical conceit as well as with anticipation of Aileen’s gladness at sight of me, I passed through the courtyard and into the ordinary.
A hubbub at the foot of the stairway attracted me. A gaping crowd was gathered there about three central figures. My weasened pippin-face of the malicious grin was one of them; a broad-shouldered, fair-faced and very much embarrassed young officer in the King’s uniform stood beside him; and from the stairway some three steps up Aileen, plainly frightened, fronted them and answered questions in her broken English.
“I am desolated to distress you, madam,” the boy officer was saying, “but this man has laid an information with me that there is a rebel in your party, one who was in Manchester with the Pretender’s force some months since. It will be necessary that I have speech with him.”
“There iss no rebel with me, sir. The gentleman with whom I travel iss of most approved loyalty,” she faltered.
“Ah! He will no doubt be able to make that clear to me. May I ask where he is at present?”
Aileen went white as snow. Her distress was apparent to all.
“Sir, I do entreat you to believe that what I say iss true,” she cried whitely.
The little rat in fustian broke out screaming that he would swear to me among ten thousand: as to the girl she must be the rebel’s accomplice, his mistress mayhap. Aileen, her big, anxious eyes fixed on the officer, shrank back against the stair rail at her accuser’s word. The lad commanded him sharply to be quiet, but with the utmost respect let Aileen understand that he must have talk with me.
All this one swift glance had told me, and at this opportune moment I sauntered up, Volney’s snuff-box in my hand. If the doubt possessed me as to how the devil I was to win free from this accusation, I trust no shadow of fear betrayed itself in my smirking face.
“Egad, here’s a gathering of the clans. Hope I’m not de trop,” I simpered.
The lieutenant bowed to me with evident relief.
“On the contrary, sir, if you are the gentleman travelling with this lady you are the desired complement to our party. There has been some doubt expressed as to you. This man here claims to have recognized you as one of the Pretender’s army; says he was present when you bought provisions for a troop of horsemen during the rebel invasion of this town.”
“’Slife, perhaps I’m Charles Stuart himself,” I shrugged.
“I swear to him. I swear to him,” screamed fustian.
On my soul merely to look at the man gave me a nausea. His white malevolence fair scunnered me.
I adjusted Volney’s eye-glass with care and looked the fellow over with a candid interest, much as your scientist examines a new specimen.
“What the plague! Is this rusty old last year’s pippin an evidence against me? Rot me, he’s a pretty scrub on which to father a charge against a gentleman, Lud, his face is a lie. No less!”
“May I ask your name, sir, and your business in this part of the country?” said the lieutenant.
Some impulse—perhaps the fact that I was wearing his clothes—put it into my head to borrow Volney’s name. There was risk that the lad might have met the baronet, but that was a contingency which must be ventured. It brought him to like a shot across a lugger’s bows.
“Sir Robert Volney, the friend of the Prince,” he said, patently astonished.
“The Prince has that honour,” I smiled.
“Pray pardon my insistence. Orders from headquarters,” says he apologetically.
I waved aside his excuses peevishly.
“Sink me, Sir Robert Volney should be well enough known not to be badgered by every country booby with a king’s commission. Lard, I vow I’ll have a change when Fritz wears the crown.”
With that I turned on my heel in a simulation of petty anger, offered my arm to Aileen, and marched up the stairs with her. My manner and my speech were full of flowered compliments to her, of insolence to the young gentleman below, for there is nothing more galling to a man’s pride than to be ignored.
“’Twas the only way,” I said to Aileen when the door was closed on us above. “’Tis a shame to flout an honest young gentleman so, but in such fashion the macaroni would play the part. Had I stayed to talk with him he might have asked for my proof. We’re well out of the affair.”
But we were not out of it yet. I make no doubt that no sooner was my back turned than the little rat in fustian, his mind set on a possible reward, was plucking at the lad’s sleeve with suggestions and doubts. In any case there came presently a knock at the door. I opened. The boy officer was there with a red face obstinately set.
“Sir, I must trouble you again,” he said icily. “You say you are Sir Robert Volney. I must ask you for proofs.”
At once I knew that I had overdone my part. It had been better to have dealt with this youth courteously; but since I had chosen my part, I must play it.
“Proofs,” I cried blackly. “Do you think I carry proofs of my identity for every country bumpkin to read? Sink me, ’tis an outrage.”
He flushed, but hung doggedly to his point.
“You gain nothing by insulting me, Sir Robert. I may be only a poor line officer and you one high in power, but by Heaven! I’m as good a man as you,” cried the boy; then rapped out, “I’ll see your papers, if you have me broke for it.”
My papers! An inspiration shot into my brain. When Volney had substituted for me at Portree he had given me a pass through the lines, made out in his name and signed by the Duke of Cumberland, in order that I might present it if challenged. Hitherto I had not been challenged, and indeed I had forgotten the existence of it, but now— I fished out the sheet of parchment and handed it to the officer. His eye ran over the passport, and he handed it back with a flushed face.
“I have to offer a thousand apologies for troubling you, Sir Robert. This paper establishes your identity beyond doubt.”
“Hope you’re quite satisfied,” I said with vast irony.
“Oh, just one more question. The lady travelling with you?”
I watched him silently.
“She is from the Highlands, is she not?” he asked.
“Is she?”
“To be sure ’tis sufficient if Sir Robert Volney vouches for her.”
“Is it?”
“And of course the fact that she travels in his company——”
My answer was a yawn, half stifled behind my hand. The lad glared at me, in a rage at me for my insolence and at himself for his boyish inability to cope with it. Then he swung on his heel and stamped down-stairs. Five years later I met him at a dinner given by a neighbour of mine in the country, and I took occasion then to explain to him my intolerable conduct. Many a laugh we have since had over it.
We reached London on a dismal Wednesday when the rain was pouring down in sheets. Aileen I took at once to our town house that she might be with Cloe, though I expected to put up with my old nurse in another part of the city. I leave you to conceive the surprise of Charles and my sister when we dropped in on them.
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