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2 THE LOYALTY OF WILLIAM DOUGLAS ByCINTON ROSS. Author of the Countess Bet: ins; E e. (Copyrighted, 18:35, by 8 8 McClure, Ln:ue; ) ben William Douglas, the Dissent er, came to Locheven, in answer to his aunt, Lady Douglas’ summons’ he held Ihe Lady o’ the Scots, the Roman Ist, a •wanton. Yet for all that the Queen of the 'Scots had forfeited her sovereignly and was the instrument of dm n . : inti i he felt aci rtain awe w hen lie In i . •- cpmpanicd Ferguson. 1: e k r. : • ■ i in--. : George D» . ... < ■.£ he i . ; uawr <. i'. ■ l. ■ i i . l»U£giVl>cr.“ HHHrr eoi:>|ii!HH'.' > il: “ : 1 !* • :. ’ ■ I ■ ■ ■ 1 1 > h r d ■■■■■ -i ■. 1 il.: I ■HHHHHK-ic'dv in hi. ■■ ■; .• ■ • II- lIH/.h r\r.- Ii; ii: 1 1 < - or i<»v>- it.differ la.< w lo tin.- ■ |HHHPl!usliiii;' I^^HRtxqiiisite the , ‘3 t ’ s underlined with a HHHHMtmciliiig. Her tignre wns ilnint i- Hvni. aim slmw, 'lend; 'r\ .through the folds . uas of soil r gray stulf, Site V. ore no a ..els, s;i‘.e ■BBPfiy on a i hhon ai In-r t 1 1 oa I^^^^Petty gentleman are . el . • .lie t !IO ; ! HHK'h' d. |ee ( wit i, i gs'kome - her she »t hi ; lu-r o • HHce with a maiden's quaiin. She the Jadv that might he sail in ; Pthe morning, with the old zest of gaie • t.V by noon. He felt she was noting; carefully, and under her lashes was seeing him all. body and soul. He thought of what the preachers of Knox’s following declared her—“. Jez ebel,” “the heathenish creature,” “a siren!” Yet, after his second visit in the duty of page, he began to say to him self, “Surely she is a pleasant lady who! has been much belied.” But there were other moods, when she paced the room’s length no longer a charming* gentlewoman, with the courtesies court, but more some eager! tigress,! ready, if the bars were but down, tot rend and tear, looking cravinglv into the open out of her win- [ dow, where birds and men seemed to do as they listed. Then, some- j times, keeper and page did not see her' at all, only heard from the next room, j sobs, when Mistress Seton or Mistress. Jane Kennedy would very civilly dis miss them. Yet perhaps at breakfast the morn ing after, the Queen would appear] with a laughter-filled face, although | her eyes might be hollow, and her gaiety suggested the effort to force forgtefulness. And iu this wise did Master'William Douglas come to know and think dif ferently of this Princess, never seeing her alone, scarce noticed by her or her ladies, and always under the keeper’s eye. But he carried thought of her to his sport with the men at arms, or to the hours he had in a skiff on the lake, or to the castle chaplain who told his ■congregation again and again the tale <of the complete wickedness of man kind, the dreariness of this life, the flames and the devils that await us is the more painful future, .Now about this time the Queen at tempted to es -aje- by donning the gar ments of the laundress who brought her linen from the village. William Douglas, oil the enstle ter race that afternoon training a falcon, heard below the keeper’s gruff cry. ~*A too neat-ankled laundress by half!” for, though, closely muffled, Mary Stuart’s foot had betrayed her. Yet, for all her disappointment at failure, and the sarcastic gibes Lady Douglas cast at her then, the dejected prisoner carried herself with the simple dignity the Stuart princess always had in face of adversity. No circumstances lid so much to change William Douglas en tirely to her cause as this adventure. Hardly more than lad, the Queen may have read it in Ids eyes. Did she, she appeared to be looking beyond him, or to notice him no more than the stone blocks of the flooring. Nor did her ladies, who before, having no one else, had thought him worth an occasional smile, now seem to be aware of his presence. Finally he found their con duct, and particularly that of the Queen, almost unenduring, although f was natural enough. He was de ckled to drop a note into the Queen's lap as he passed, but that was too risky and might only lead to his being removed from his fHist. Thinking over the riddle, at last one object came to have a fascination, its jjossestiion leaver than an iiion or h o or for-; rune, that the key-ring Master Fergu j son had at his girdle, and then our l young gentlemen of the Douglases be-j gan almost uncoils-.iouwl.v to curry fa-! vor with the keej**r, tried tier art of aj player, maligned the < wi to the! keeper’s delight while inwardly curs- j mg him, used the canting phrases 3eot Dissenter; affect, d. and i 11;. d •• 1 ■-••u ; i.beolo? wh * ■ ' iicoi topic. • llut always in. m cj < r •place -at the keeper's girdle. , 1.-ss, he should knife Idm behind. Following out this wish to be near tlie key>. h • rat talking o; e nig .1 un til near 10 o’clock with this lrish-Scot keeper, who was expounding some the ological point, Douglas agreeing with him, the time devouring with his eyes the bunch of keys. A windy night it was of scurrying clouds, through which the moon would break, sending an occasional shine across the guard room floor. At last the keeper became drowsy, he would go to bed. “But I could show this more clearly to you. Master Douglas, if I had my -copy of Knok’s sremons.” L “If you’ll suffer me,l will go to your k chamber with you, Master Ferguson, l and bring the book that I may con the ! point.” “That you may, Master Douglas.” | 8o he followed him out of the guard i room to the door of his chamber, that ] the keeper threw open, putting the lan | tern he carried on the floor, while he j fumbled for tlie book. The gleam i from the candle was shot back to the i youth’s eyes by the flaming key. The : pistol in Ferguson's belt caught him : under the lieiiy, and rising, he pulled ; ii out, placing ii on the board above I the flit-place. Won sudden impulse I Douglas reached Sou aid it; but turn ing he slammed the dour, that made j yiamorous echo. “Eh, what's that, Master Douglas?” said the keeper, tlie book of John Knox in ins hand. “The wind, Master Ferguson, the wiiKi, I declare.” Leaping forward, he, grasped the pis tol from the board above the fireplace and faced the other. “If it please you, Master Ferguson, the castle keys?” There was no premeditation. He had not dreamed of such an action. Its foolhardiness would have dismayed him. The keys, tlie mad desire to have them, possessed him like one of the devils Christ cast out. “Are ye mad?” he gasped. “The keys, sirrah!” said Douglas. xVt this Fergusou muttered, “’Tis Jezebel’s arts,” and so exclaimed. With a blow he sent pistol flying from Doug las’ hand, caught him by the back, I casting him with one thrust into the j corner. The pistol, by fortune’s pow i er, was not discharged. The thick ! walls, the closed door, kept the scuffle J unheard. Ferguson gazed at him in a heap in the corner, as he might be some worm. “’Tis you, master, following George Douglas’ way. But you’re a madman.” j lie spoke sense. Douglas had yield ed his secret. His plight could not be worse, A frenzy of unreasoned rage possessed him. And Ferguson’s con tempt gave a chance. He knew not how suddenly he was on his feet, how he had sprung on the man, bearing him to the floor, and cooking him. The fellow could not cry out; Ids eyes, staring Douglas in the face, seemed to start from their sockets, while his face blackened in | the lantern uight. Had he choked him ' Qg 'FT.Vi'r • ■ -u '•kf’t’diifrH. | f:’:; 4v'L-,"'.:.fcL v ' . ! _ 1 ' 7v ' ~iy. . T v v**!' • • *** » ♦ ' ’ ' ’*'? ‘ 0, m •“«-*!* • . f -v : yv>-7. " . . *' -' •/••a. ■xX- a-.- :"i, • ", i ■*( • ' •' "s ; ' - (■. ' ■- : - > ' 7- *<' •’. 74. SSr > $ S yL *W\ \M /\ %. \ ‘•f • V;-" r.t \ tm~ ji? .... ; ; mr ® to death? He did not pause to query, but, relaxing his grasp, loosed the bunch of keys. As they fell, rattling on the floor, Ferguson groaned, mov ing convulsively. Quickly Douglas un did his girdle, passed it through his mouth, and gagged him beyond sound. Seizing a deerskin from the bed, lie cut it into thongs with the hunting knife. With one thong he found his hands behinu his back; with the other tied his feet. At the moment his eyes opened. He had not choked his breath entirely out of him; “thank the Hod of the. Pope, and of Knox alike,” Doug las muttered. “ I’vethe keys, old psalm-singer,” ; said he. "Don’t stare at me or strug- j gle. My plight is desperate: 1 must free the Queen, or die for it. Farewell j Master Ferguson.” Ferguson’s eyes showed desperation. Douglas wondered for a moment hove i.is frenzy hail the sense to choke him. ' Ily no other way could he have kept him from outcry, or, indeed, mastered him. If he had waited for a plan, he; never should have done what he did. Ferguson rolled about the floor, mak-j ing the moan of pain-bearing despair. Taking the keys, Master Douglas picked up the lantern with the other j hand, opened the door, closed and j locked it, and dropping the keys in his poeet, strode down the corridor into the great hall. Instead of turning to his chamber, be opened the door to the i corridor of the North Tower. Some thing like the frenzy poets tell of seem ed to guide. He closed this door be hind, locked it, and followed the nar row passage to the farther entrance, where the sentinel, who’d been sleep ing on the floor, sprang up, with star ing eyes and gasping voice: “Sleeping honest dock?" “Not 1, Master. You saw not a- \ right.” ‘Tin not blind,” "A man may grow weary, master." "He may get a dozen lashes.” “Av, Master, but you’ll not tell.” “it's my duty. Hut I'll try to for- I “1 came from Master Ferguson, by; my Lady Douglas’ order, to carry a j drug to the Queen, who is ill. The j apothecary but now brought it from 1 the village.” In evidence of au hority, he display-I ■■■' the keys, at which dock gazed in; doltish amazement. Pushing him a-1 side, Douglas unlocked the door. “Now. do you remain here by the ; open door, while I ascend the tower to j the Queen’s apartment. No one can j pass you.” “Not a soul. Master?” said he, as if reassured. Lantern in hand, he went up the stairs to the door of the apartment, which he unlocked, closing the outer and knocking at the inner door. Again he knocked. At last, after a space was Re ton’s voice: “Who may be there at this hour?” “I Mistress, —Will Douglas.” “You, Master? What want you?” “Word with the Queen.” “Her Majesty has retired.” "I must see her,” “What mean you?” “God help us! Ask not my meaning, but wake her!” “Master, what treachery is this? I’ll not open.” “Then, Mistress, you waste my life.” Tie heard the Queen interrupting. “What’s this, Seton?” “I don’t comprehend. Your Majesty, what treachery they now are tit.” Douglas whispered through the .key hole: “Oh, your Grace, I'm here to free you. I’ve gagged and bound the keeper and stolen it is keys. We have out a moment to try for the open. If we are caught, I shall be killed, and you! 1 beg, Your Grace, hasten!,, “Wait!” He counted the moments until the door opened, and the Queen and 1.. lady were in the outer room. Her gown was hastily thrown on. “Forgive me, Main, r Dougin*. I thought you but a s.!Sv boy. Seton. a ! cloak:” “] ul In mai !” sai i Seton” “i’ll not leave you!” ‘‘You ii, list, Your Gtne.*. They can not hurt me. ; i I v i can pseie t j wlion they search t hat you are in tile ! inner loom.” “’they ll believe it. I like your wit, mistress,” sa:d Douglas. “That she has wit, Master Douglas. I know. That you hud such readiness, 1 never suspected. Forgive me! 1 shall rewaid you if I escape. God for bid that an interest in my fortune may curse you, too. I hate to leave you. Seton.” “It’s better so,” sad thy other. For a moment the Queen bent her head on her companion’s shoulder, and, suddenly raising her face, she kissed ! her lightly. “On, Master Douglas,” said the Queen’s lady then. “You’re no boy, but a man after my heart.” “I have one to settle below, Mis tress,” said he, noting her in the can dle glare.” Closing the outer door, the Queen came after. Half-way on the stair, he stopped her, while walking down, as if with great boldness, he threw back tlie door below. “ooek,” to the guard. lie closed the door, lest .Jock should see the Queen; and put the key in the lock. “I have delivered the drug.” “Yes, Master. But is it not strange that Master Ferguson came not him self?” ) “Strange ii is.” said Douglas, fum | ling at the lock. “This key will not turn. Will you try it, Jock? The jamb is rusted, I deem.” “Yes, Master.” As he turned to the lock, Douglas put the lantern on the floor, and whip ping out liis knife from Ihe scabbard, and with a strong blow, thrust him through the back. With a groan the He Sprang at the Mau j fellow fell over, w hile a st ream of blood burst over Douglas’ hand. The man’: distorted face came before him after ward o’ nights. But he had no other way, and it was the Queen’s cause. The door was pushed back, and she stood there, the cloak on her arm. “Are you hurt?” Douglas thoght she would faint. “The blood! tin* fearful blood! ! Not the first that’s bem* shed for me;" j “Your Hraee.” I “I’m cold.” Poor .lock lay in a heap on the floor. ( I his life blood still spurting Douglas took the mantle from the Queen, and' wrapt it around her. “Mind him not.” . He tried to support her, for now la wns resolved they should get away. “No, Douglas, 1 can walk as easily as yon for freedom’s sake. But the j poor wrecth. He brings so many mem , ories.” Bhe seemed to sob, mil to control j herself, for hen voice became dry and I hard. “We’ll go, Master. Lead on.” He knew the way. Had he not stud ; icd every turn during the weeks, when, I seeking a means of aiding her? livery ! nook and cranny V j Ro tie led as easily as it were day, j down the passage to the great hall, | where he opened the door, whichereak led on its hinges. He dared not close it ! behind, but went on, the narrow slits of the walls guiding. The door to the corridor of the postern-gate, he opened more carefully. It did not creak as the other. iJe took the Queen’s hand iest slit- should stumble. The place was as still as the death he had wrought in the passage to the North 'lower. But at the gate lie was i made to pause, having left the keys in i the door to the tower. l-nder his * breath, he cursed. And here the Queen, i in that moment of perilous waiting i showed, the Stuart spirit. | “But no blood, Douglas, even fhou°’h j they take us,” she added as she bade | film take that <!c Heroins w alk back, j In tin.' passage was the gleea of the | lantern, and the dead me n in his blood, j How grisly he seemed; How he mocked I him! - he with whom he oft had | laughed. And now nov'-r'another rtu | pid jest from the doltish brain. And ; he’d killed him! But- he had the keys at last, lit must get away from that ! Ihing, the jeering, blood, face. Back j he stirred. | Ait the door to the hall were steps. i 1 he watch was passing. He could hear voices, a scurrilous jest. Yet they did not guess his presence in the gioom, and the clangor of their boots on the paving was going with a closing door, and their laughter over the good story. In a moment lie was after them in the , great hall, turning away into the pas sage to the postern-gate. 'Hie key creaked in the gate, and they were out in the mist, the gate closed : and locked behind. The glare of the moonshine over the terrace and the < water troubled Douglas. Any one who i listened could picked them out with a musket. But he laughed since he had < The New* and Observer, Dec i, Q 5. the keeper’s keys, which held Loch Leven locked. But no time could be lost. They must go down to the bank to the skiff, which he saw was exactly where he had left. it. A ladder at this point led to the landing. And while eh would have helped her, the Queen dimed down as easily as she were a girl. She knew full well to her cap ture meant a captivity more odious than before, while to him, death. When he pushed the boat the peb bles rattled enough to have aroused die castle. He gave the Queen his hand, but she leaped in without aid. As the boat glided into the open loch the moon was hid by scurrying cloud, and loch and castle held fast in mid and night. Douglas si (tied to the oars, t hen at last the Queen’s voice came to him sofily. “The sweet air! The lieedom!” “I would wish the oars wire mus- I iii a." As if to move . .vv ini", they v ere. son hi.a loosed Ins i .ok. •! ‘ t- id ..e. “but,- ah. file.,'re locked in!” Every key to every outer gate at Lodi Leven was < n that I y-ring which bad Insdnati J him. 1)» ;. 1 do ling was it iuded, which not only had given the means of escape, but which now could hold the pursuit. They would be forced to batter down it door before they could be after them. No wonder that it had been bis desire so long; nor strange that he had held it up before the Queen’s eyes gleefully, and then flung it far out into the lake, where it splashed and where doubtless it lies to this day, rusted in the service of loyalty. What cared he now for the tiring of the gun of Loch Leven, or the spent balls splashing over their bow. They could not see them in the wel come gloom, nor could they be out under an hour. The gates of that for tress were as well made as any in all | Scotland. Fulling on, Douglas found all at once his arms hurting much. For, in some way,—likely in struggle with the keeper,—it hail been wrenched. Every stroke made it twinge. Finally he be gan to have a certain joy in resisting the pain, which was the pleasure of endurance. The firing continued. But they could only conjecture the posi tion of tlie boat in that welcome gloom and they began to find they were wasting powder. Douglas could ima gine his aunt,her gow n hastily thrown 1 on, spending her rage. She had trust ed hint, and he had been untrust worthy, but for the Queen. “To the Edinboro’ road! Do you know the landing there?” “Well, Your Grace.” “And the sign of the Deerhound?” “A half-mile in.” “A gooti Scot mile, master.' Our friends are there, I had the word in the laundress’ linen.” By this time hard pulling had | brought, them close to the shore,where i he trusted to the sedges to shadow I them. He thought to follow the shore to a spot near the Edinboro’ road. The obscuring cloud was passing. Bushes binshed the skiff's sides. He thought he knew the waters, but he found the boat scraping; it grounded. When, springing over and pushing out again, he took the pars the moon reached out, easting a sheen over the waves, that danced in a little wind. Loch Leven showed out darkly across wid-r, where was not a boat. The only danger was from the noise of tlie guns having at tracted a passing troop of the Regent. Equally would it warn the Queen’s friends that something was happening iu the castle. Douglas thought he should have to kkirt the lake under the bushes. It would have been the height of folly to have ventured into that open space, to invite tlie marksmen of Loch Leven, or to excite the interest of those in the vilage, for chance pasers on the highways. , | He had ben pulling the skiff with-; out a word with his companion, only noting in the moonshine the outline ] i of her figure, her disordered hair, from j ; v. hieh tlie cloak had us’ ni. ! “Douglas?” “Nour Grace?” "How have you dared lids'. “ v on aie Queen.” “But, master, there us a king, my son?” _ j “N our grace, why -hould I side with j this lord, or that, or with Lord James! ! Stuart, when you are Mary Stuart, the' Queen in need?” "You were taught, Douglas, I vvns s ! M imlnal who have forfeited my right.” | “I saw your Grace in distress. ' “i m ver once suspected you would go to this extreme. 1 thought you only a page of the Douglases. 1 confess, j master, and ask pardon.” “Your Grace, it does not become you] to say such things to me. 1 have only done as others.” “But they never have. Your con si a tried, but failed.” “1 may.” “We will not consider failure yet. j But lest I never may have chance] again, muster, I wish to explain to you i these charges. 1 cannot think you] would believe them entirely. To you, I Douglas, I would speak, although it is] not the Queen’s part to explain.” For a moment she paused, while the| bushes bent under the wind, the oars dipped, a wild fowl called from the marsh. “A young girl, my Douglas, came from the French court, where pleasure is almost duty, to austere Scotland, where of late some have held it sin. Many aspired to this princess’ favor, and love,. If F -this girl Queen -was thoughtless, 1 at first intended no crib When I found my mistake, I hated those 1 had tricked w ith fancies. Darn ley, whom 1 thought a hero, after all, was imbecile; Rizzio, but a sentimen talist, and Castelar -?” “And Bothwell?” asked he in nis in terest, for getting he had no right to ask. “1 fear him.” But she added; “I fear no man! lam Queen! I will! have blood for blood, eye for eye!” He had known this mood in the chb-| tie, w hen she would not see. the keeper, j “Those who have helped me,” she! v. “lit on more gently, “shall have re-1 w ard. 1 will have my ow n again. Yet—t oh, Douglas, I am the unliappiest lady ever was born. So many who have' nerved me have suffered bitterly.” “The Queen shall have her own again!” “She shall, for she will. And J am free, and in this bonnie hind thousands are ready to die for us. Life is sweet as this brave air. Men still love me, and 1 may have some w it left.” The Queen talked thus to William Douglas because of her excitement, more than from any intention to make of him a confidant. He reached a place where he thought a landing prudent. Taking his hand, she stepped to 1 shore, where, pushing away through the thick bushes, they came out on the expanse of the moor, reaching then up to the enclosure of the Deerhound. The Queen trudged on with her bun dle light-heartedly to appearance as a servant lass who may be out with her lad for the harvest dance. "1 see you take the way across the moor because we there are less likely to meet any one.” “Yes, I have no weapon, Your Grace.” “Your knift—” she began. 4 I left it,” said he; "hum, hum, in Jock, the guard.” He spoke thoughtlessly, and, as has been the ease with us ail a thousand times, would have given anything to have had the words unsaid. For his! companion lost her gaiety with the j word. Her voice had a sob. “My friend, don’t bring to me the I past and its dead.” | lie felt the lout, and tried to murmur' some poor apologetic explanation, un-| til she interrupted with laughter. “No, you cannot make me saddisli. | Across th * namr we ao. master.” And • ho led the way. humming a lit “T; : t's aYL song. Master Don las; I "Y s. hot! ami all. !’ve tv. n him ] : chind one of t < e dissenting minis- • Kr:ox acknowledged ‘there’s not so, numb harm in a I otutie time ns in a bad heart, but.’ he added, ’your dane-l ing will blacken your heart.’ Eh, Douglas, mayhap he was right. How] silent you are." "I was wishing for a word.” “11 ow strange it is, that you who have been brave should tremble. Come, my master, a little farther, and We will ] be at the Deerhound.” He did not answer, for he had fan cied he saw shadows like those of men; ' tM '>!’ wßßi&sfe > 4; I’ll 9BBbb&(v., ri %'i/lu'. ‘WSBBm mki/f/ U: • Ay » 1-7 r /<%f, s mmSm.- 1 •ft / ) i y 'v’A YflHp V>. i uv-1 I t r- ii uitVk A > :_ 4 f t. | " ] : -'&> A • r \ tQ.c, r ,* \ \ '*!* •' t. in \• 1., Q ~*>•• S A ' • il ; ;-v, --V: . . *" t , „ * ■*., . ,4 ■ . I { <i » ' J ' .» . || / ; y f * * * *' * /C *?..■„ ; ' ! I , 1 - • * /\k h ■ -4-A • v . - ; .7; * r- x— w. nN*./.« '-s ■ . ' / '• • ** .. • " v 3v / fl,f.f' v , y *.>Q: T -y '-)5 ■V *• . tt L A • ' ' - In the Fasfageway Was the Gh a n of the Lantern an \ the Dead Man ia His Biood fearing lest some one might spring out j of the bushes, and maddened to think ! how powerless he should be against ! some passer who certainly would be 1 armed to the teeth. He who in Queen ; Mary’s time carried life in an open f way, was likely to have his right to ; breath challenged at any moment by | highwaymen, or his clan’s enemy. The | Queen, to give him heart, again laughed. “Have you not done that which the others failed in? Are we not almost with friends?” “Ay, but who knows who their hell j and cannon may not have stirred up? j And—you know, Your brace, a hare j hand has small favor with bare steel.” “It’s a Scot’s hand, Master Douglas! | A Root brain. We’ll have no more 1 French tunes this night. I know a ! better of your own people.” I fancy you who read may know that ancient song of the Douglases, a catch ing tune that renders a llouglas proud of his own. Through it all runs the 1 clash of steel, and the cry that ren-1 dered the race warm for the fray. Now j it came in a low tone from a lady’s lips,! and it gave this Douglas heart. He I had been shuddering at what he had i done, but now again, with her voice, j he cared not at all w ho he should face, j So curiously is bravery a matter of ! how the brain—or is it how the heart? works. On that lonely moor, it was as if they two. Queen and subject, had the world to themselves. The moon shine makes the earth so different a place. A man makes love under the moon, to hate her under the sun. I A stone wall marked the enclosure jof the Deerhound, and revealed the hazard. “You can trust those you expect to! be at the Deerhound?” “A* much as you. Go to the rear door. Knock thrice. To him asking your errand say, ‘Does the day please?’ ” “Yet, something may have gone j against us.” “The fortune of war,” assented the i Queen. “And do you, Your brace, remain j j here in the shadow of the wall until } 1 may find how our fortune may be at! | the inn.” “Wait. Master!” She took from her bosom a little gold crucifix. -I “1 must pray, Master Douglas. For sinners was Christ, the priests tell us. I would pray to Him, for He is greater'; than the Virgin, although likely she; understands us women.” He had bowed his head, if'he had' been taught her faith was idolatrous. “Father,” said the Queen, holding The image high, “1 pray thee remem-' her us. Beineuiber James, my sou. Ke-, member William Douglas, my Knight*. Oh, bod of Scotland, and of Mary Stuart, do thou hear the prayer of us who without thee are but babes on a wood.” What matters a man’s faith so much as his honesty? A long time yet has the world to learn that theology is naught more than a trickery of; phrases. Her eyes were on him. Her belief in the power of Him the little image symbolized to help her, for all; her faults, impressed him with a sort [ of ardor of intreaty to Him. He had been man; had suffered, been perplex ed. He could understand all, even the murder of Jock, the guard. The words of the ministry of the New Church 1 rang in William Douglas’ memory; “Oh, (led, we are poor sinners indeed!” “I believe your are one of the Dis- ’ senters, Master? They’d make light of our ancestor’s faith. Are we, poor, conceited fools, so much wiser?” She pressed the crucifix to her lips, and thrust it again into her bosom. She held out her hand, which he press ed to his lips, and turned to scale the wall without another glance back, yet hating to leave her so. fearful of all that might happen. Dropping down on the farther side of the wall, he found himself in the stable yard of the Deerhound. No one ap|K'ared to be stirring, although lights were in the upper windows. About the corner of the house a train ]of light fell across the highway be yon, as if the front doors were wide. Finding the rear door without diffi culty, he knocked once, twice, thrice. There was no answer, although he fancied he heard voice', he nr.tin ra • ed the knoel-er, which fell into it* metal place with a btr-reachitg .co ni' tit si it “lit of t ' full moon. The candle mar dropped from her i palsied htind. “Wait,” she said, like one of the Fates. 'I he door closed. So long a time ! passed that Douglas was about to turn j back, or to try the other door. ninth! ] he be greeted by the Earl of Moray's I followers? He could hear his heart j be fancied. might be liap ' pening behind the stone wall? Was , she in peril from he knew not whom? How easily all his effort up to this might be made naught. Nor were Lord Moray’s men alone to be feared. There were hundreds of others during that unsettled period who might be at the 1 Deerhound, inimical to the cause. You may believe it was almost in fright lie heard again a rattling of the bolts. This time the chain was loosed, when the door opened, showing the dame, and the two others with travel-stained hoots, but so closely muffled that he could not make them out, nor their style of dress. One stepped up to him when he saw the eyes peering from the cloak. “Your question?” “I pray you, Master, does the day please?” The other thrust back his covering. “Will? Will Douglas! We heard the cannon atLochLeven.And now you are here? with that question. I Muffled as the speaker was, William j Douglas could not be mistaken in the voice. j “Ah, cousin,” said he, “we are of the ; same political complexion. I, an yon, serve the Queen, not Moray.” The other now was holding a lantern high, peering into his face. “Blood on your cuffs?” The presence of ones relatives may lead to the assumption of any bravado one may own. Before our kin, most of all, we like to show best our prowress, our cleverness, our bravery, or all. So William Douglas. “Killed a fellow who stood in my way.” “And you are from the Queen?” “I came with the Queen.” “Eh, boy! Wliat’s turned your sense?” “Cousin,” said he to George Douglas, “bet me ladder with which to scale the wall, and you will understand 1 am no liar. Hurry, fools! The ladder, 1 tell you.” “You’re in your eups. Will Douglas.” ; “I have done that you have failed in.” j he boasted. j “Your Grace,” lie cried. | “Master Dv.glas?” “The Queen’s voice,” skill lie. George Douglas’ incredulity' vanish ed, and he was over the wall, where 1 hey found him kneeling before the. Lady O’ the Scots. ““Kneel not to me who owe much yes, almost all, — for freedom is all! to tne Douglases.” “We were your gaolers.” “Who have freed the prisoner.” “Not 1. but my cousin.” “But Douglas you tried, if the other succeeded, borne, y our hand, over the wall.” He diil this gallantly' with all his j grace. But William Douglas had heard the Queen’s words. He had succeeded where his cousin failed. The cannon of Loch Beven had excited the inn, keeping the watchers for the Queen awake. How many others, unfriendly to the restoration, might have been aroused, the Queen’s gentlemen then could only conjecture. If William Douglas’ thought to leave the castle without the keys to unlock its doors he had delayed the chase, yet now it were imprudent to tarry at the Deer hound. Nor was it half an hour before the company was in the saddle, shouting under its breath. “God, and the Queen!” With the steady swing of cantering horses,—the lightening of the sky in the east, the stirring of men unit wo- men along the way for their morning tasks,- they saw the tower of * Queen’s fortress. But in the heart of William Douglas was no gladness; and he wondered, far he had not succeeded? Yet the Fate that makes hearts said. “There shall bo no su> eoss without a regret." And be who was the envy of th* court that rallied quickly under the Queen's banner, knew this, although men envied and the Queen favored and knighted him. as the Douglas whoae reality atoned in degree for Ins rela tives. Queen <>’ the Scots v a- she again, th<* color in her cheeks, gracious to all, win back that she had lost. Put this Stuart |.tii:c» - had small time to think of n inn" v att. is. when her realm was di joint I and all her I wit needful. j for the K< “ nt. I earn.' oft he serv'i hi I done.found I further d ; -t'net • whY'i was not to his heart. Yet a maim, not live wit!. memories, nit horn h he may wish to die because of them. And since lie would forget, he tried to make love as well as to fight. In the little court was a Mistress Agnes Frazer- who did not disdain him; tiud the Queen, hearing of this sent for him. “Ah, Douglas,” sard she. smiling prettily, as she could; “1 have heard of you and my maid, Agnes.” But Douglas was silent. “Are you embarrassed Dougin*?’ siiid she then, “that 1 should ques tion ?” “Yes, your Grace,” said lie sturdily “And why?" "Because, your Grace, 1 have but tried to make love to Mistress Agues that 1 might forget.” “And why?” asked she, for they *ay she never was displeased at seeing the light that then was in his eyes. “Your Grace,” said he, ”1 must fur get I’tn unhappy, because no longur can I stand between you and danger.'-’ Then she twitted him on practicing a courtiei*s speeches, but noting him, she saw that same look causing her tu turn away. Yet site was not displeas ed. But after this she avoided him s<* that he, thinking lie had displeased her, was the more downcast and wou dered at himself, why he should he so. But he found that Mistress Frazer could not - ghten the heart, nay, ev-a the battle field failed. Then again, William Douglas took the chances others held foolishly des perate; yet. as is the way when men wish Him, Death did not seek him. Death, seeking us all, seldom conies when He is called, for He too, seems to he ruled by mockery. But there came a time when Death was piqued at William Douglas always daring him. For after many days | when the loyal cause seemed again j hopeless—William Douglas was sore wounded in the thigh, and was borne away among others to tlie castle uhere the Queen chanced to be lodged. And one of her ladies came to the j Queen, telling her among the wonnd- I ed in the battle was Sir William Doag lAud the Queen remendiered sari went, into the room where he lay breathing hard. Being told he must die, she kneeled : down bv him, and said softly, with tears in her eyes, that she was losing all her leal subjects who were nior* than the Crown of Scotland, when Douglas opened his eyes on her. He appeared comelily boyish as if he were still in his promise;yet the Queen knew he had done her a strong mnn ■* service. "Live, Douglas, for me, your Quran Happiness shall be yours.' You shall marry the prettiest lady of uiy suite, and shall have all the land of Seat county.” But he sighed, as with his hurt. “Your Grace, you’re fairer than all the ladies of your suite, and tlie mem ory of that night with you is nior« the a all the lands of Scot county.” And those who were there saw the Queen blush and say very softlv, “No loyalty is like your loyalty," and bend ing forward she pressed her lips to hia and said again, “Yes, no loyalty is like yours;" and, rising, went away. But when she heard that against *H the predictions of the surgeons he had recovered, she was piqued and held his loyalty not so great. And Douglas was even sorry that he had not died the*, for he had wished to die. Nor did th« Queen remember that she had promi* ed him all the lands of Scot county: nor did he remind her; nor see lier »f --tcn. But, poor Queen, all of the Scot coum ties passed away from her, and she w** a prisoner at the hands of Queen dim* (CONTINUED ON THIKD ) Immjre Blood Scrofula Breaks Cut S; Running SOiQ ‘i The Fr|r -«j Pc-'■ cV” f>.:rod by K . x :v ii.*. m. “A ;•> o( my limits, .c ■ • d.<*, it s..< , • others* which • ■ •• a to !>’• • • t : ••< t' . fir.it* : /■(■• 111 L.. ■ : ....... * - A U l‘te .'‘A..., ’ ’ tY 91 > i v\a* . . . V.: . Il t . . ’ ' : L . . T r / ri j - V A' ♦ i to :» l: » :- , f gluAAiy (AV— JwU A ... , -J l M. It 2.>U7'ill(* wonbl If!;o every < I? I sufferer to know the j valae of Hood’s. Bar- -*3^ BupurilU iu * case like mine.” C. D. COV INGTON, Farmcrville, Louisiaea. Hood’s Pills S»e the tent after-«S?« nilfci, iusiat |*reTewt«onsUuatlok ilsv''
The News & Observer (Raleigh, N.C.)
Standardized title groups preceding, succeeding, and alternate titles together.
Dec. 1, 1895, edition 1
2
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