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owning extensive estates in the counties of Dunbarton and Stirling.
The Graemes can boast three of the most remarkable characters in
Scottish history: Sir John the Graeme, the faithful and undaunted
compatriot of Wallace; the celebrated Marquis of Montrose; and the
Viscount Dundee.
Shaking off the melancholy that oppressed his soul, thrice the Min
strel struck the chords of a well-known martial air, and for one brief
moment the notes echoed over Loch Katrine; but thrice they died away
in plaintive murmurs. Then clasping his withered hands, he ex
claimed, “It is in vain! Not even at thy bidding, noble lady, can I
touch the chords of joy. When I try to play the proud strains of a
victorious march, the music, without my will,sinks into wailing for the
dead. It is said that this harp of mine was once the property of Saint
Modan, and that it has the gift of prophesy. Kind heaven grant that
these low,mournful notes of woe foretell no death but mine! But, ah !
dear lady, the eve thy sainted mother died, disobedient to my touch, it
wailed in the same manner whenever I strove to sing a lay of love or
war; and when I persisted, I was appalled to hear a dirge wail loud
and long through Bothwell’s stately hall. Then my hand dropped
powerless from the strings. This was not long before the Douglases
were ruined and driven into exile. Oh! if any greater misfortune
threatens thy noble house, if any harm comes to thee, this harp shall
never again prophesy evil, for I will draw from its strings one short
strain fraught with unutterable woe, then dash it into fragments and
lay me down and die!’’
Ellen Douglas was strangely moved by his speech, but answered
soothingly,
“It is no marvel that unbidden notes should sometimes sound from
thy harp, since thou knowest every melody that was ever sung in low
land vale or highland glen. The war-march and the funeral song are
entangled in thy memory this morning; but banish all fear of ill; we
are perfectly safe here. Though my father was forced to resign his
lands and high estate, he still possesses virtue and courage, and they
make him great. For me’’ —she paused, while she stooped to pull a
blue harebell, and then resumed, “I have only a faint memory of more
splendid days, so this simple flower shall be my emblem. It drinks
the dew of heaven as blithe as any rose that blooms in the king’s gar
den. And when I place it in my hair, Allan, thou as my bard art
bound to swear, that thou never saw so fair a coronet.’’
Playfully she decked her dark locks with the wild flowers, and turn
ed her smiling face upon him.
The minstrel’s dark mood passed away under the influence of her
soft voice and sweet smiles. Gazing at her with fond regret and pride,
he said with the tears glistening in his eyes, “Thou canst not realize
the rank and honors thou hast lost! Oh, if I could only live to see thee
occupy thy proper place among the high-born ladies of the court of
Scotland! No step in the courtly dance would be lighter than thine,
and thou wouldst be the leading star of every gallant knight; and ev
ery bard, remembering the cognizance of the great House of Douglas/
would sing thy praises as the fairest lady of the Bleeding Heart.”
“Those are beautiful dreams,” Ellen answered. She spoke lightly,
yet with a smothered sigh. “This mossy rock is dearer to me than any
splendid chair and silken canopy can ever be; and no song of any roy
al minstrel could please me half so well as thine; and then for gallants
proud and high to sue for my favor, thou wilt confess that grim Sir
Roderick owns my sway. No one doubts his courage and daring. Is
he not the pride of Clan Alpine and the terror of the lowlands?”
Then in a half playful, half ironical tone she added, “At my re
quest, thou knowest he would delay a Lennox foray for—well, per
haps, a day.”
“Maiden,” the minstrel said, “thou hast chosen an ill theme for
jest. How can you mention black Sir Roderick and smile? I remem
ber as if it was yesterday when he slew a knight with whom he had a
feud in the very palace of Holy-Rood; and as he strode out of the hall
with the bloody dirk in his hand, all the courtiers gave way before
him. Since that fearful hour he has been an outlaw, and kept this
mountain land with his sword. No one but lie —woe the day that I
should utter the hateful truth —no one in all Scotland but this wild ma
rauding Chief would give thy noble father shelter. Now, that thou
art a maiden grown, Sir Roderick looks for his reward in thy hand.
Then, though the Douglas is an exile,he will be held in reverence and
fear as the father-in-law of the Chief of Clan Alpine. But, oh! maid
en, loveliest and best! though thou art so dear to Sir Roderick that
thou mayest guide him with a silken thread, beware ! thy hand is on a
lion’s mane!”
High her father’s soul flashed from Ellen’s eyes as she answered,
“I know my debt to Sir Roderick’s house. I owe and give a daugh
ter’s love to Lady Margaret who so tenderly raised her sister’s orphan
child; and I owe a deeper debt to her son for sheltering my father from
the wrath of the king. Could I pay the debt with my blood, then Sir
Roderick could command my life—but not my hand. Rather than wed
a man I did not love I would seek refuge in a convent, or beg cold
charity beyond the seas where a Scotch word was never spoken and the
name of Douglas never heard. Nay, good friend! Do not shake thy
head! I understand all thy pleading looks can say. I know he is brave,
and generous, too, except when his blood is chafed by jealousy or vin
dictive passion. He is true to his friends, but never feels any mercy
for his foes; and he is liberal,if it can be called liberality when he flings
amofig his clan the spoil they themselves bring back from their forays,
leaving a mass of ashes and blood in the lowlands to mark the site
where once a pleasant hamlet stood. I honor, as a daughter should,
the hand that has fought for my father, but I never could clasp it reek
ing red with the blood of slaughtered peasants. I have always in
stinctively disliked him. While yet a child I shuddered at his gloomy
brow and sable plume; and a maiden grown, I ill could bear his haugh
ty manners. When I think seriously of Sir Roderick as a suitor, I
thrill with anguish, or, if a Douglas ever knew the word, with fear. I
cannot speak longer on this odious subject tell me what you think
WOMAN’S WORK.
of the stranger who spent the night with us?”
“What do I think of him? It was an evil hour when he found our
lonely retreat. Have you never heard that when that enchanted
sword of thy ancestors, forged by no human hand, fell from its scab
bard it was always a warning of a secret foe? If he was a spy from the
court thy honored father has everything to fear, for this sequestered
isle is Clan Alpine’s last retreat; but if he is neither a foe nor a spy,
then I dread Sir Roderick’s quick jealousy. Nay, lady, toss not thy
head in disdain! I remember how his wrath burned at the Beltane
games, because thou ledest the dance with Malcolm Graeme. Thy fa
ther made the peace between them then, but bad feeling still smoul
ders in Sir Roderick’s breast —hark! by my minstrel faith! I hear the
bagpipe!”
Just as he spoke they spied in the distance four large barges. As
they came into plainer view, Sir Roderick’s banner, with its solitary
pine, flashed in the sun; and the strains of the proud pibroch, mellow
ed by distance, floated over the water. When the war-pipes ceased
their melody, a hundred clansmen raised their voices to sing the prais
es of their Chief, and every oarsman joined the chorus, “Roderigh
Vich Alpine, ho, iro!”
At the first faint sounds of the bagpipe, Lady Margaret and her
household had hastened to the beach to welcome her son. They knew
by the music that he returned a victor; and the mother knowing what
would best please him, called Ellen to come to her, gently chiding her,
with, “Come,loiterer, thou a Douglas,and delayest to wreathe the con
queror’s brow?”
Ellen reluctantly rose, and was walking towards her aunt when a
mellow horn was heard across the lake.
She stopped with her face lit up with radiant joy, and turning to Al
lan-bane, exclaimed, “That is father’s signal. We must take the
skiff and bring him from the mountain side.” And in a few moments
she was in the boat with the faithful minstrel, and away over the lake.
So when Sir Roderick landed, his eyes sought her in vain, among his
mother’s band.
In the meantime, Ellen had reached the mainland, and was clasped
to her father’s breast.
Sometimes it is given to mortals to experience feelings that belong
more to heaven than to earth; and if there is a tear so refined irom
passion’s dross that it would not stain an angel’s cheek, it is that which
a loving father sheds over a duteous daughter’s head. While Ellen
with equal emotion welcomed the Douglas who was silently crying
over her, though it was a hero’s eyes that wept, she noticed a graceful
youth keeping himself in the background; and it was not until Doug
las spoke to him that Malcolm Graeme came forward.
Allan-bane was standing near the edge of the lake, alternately cast
ing piteous glances at the Douglas, and eyeing wistfully the martial
pride of Sir Roderick surrounded by his clansmen. He looked until
his eyes grew dim with tears, when he heard the Douglas say, as he
laid his hand on Malcolm’s Spoulder: t .
“Art thou wondering at my poor follower’s tears? I’ll tell thee why
his eyes are wet —he recalls the day that I returned to Bothwell Cas
tle with my train graced with twenty knights, the least of whom bore
a name as proud as yon Chief’s; and a pennon won in bloody battle
from the English waved over me, and in my praise this faithful min
strel led the song which many a bard answered back with loud refrain.
But believe me, Malcolm, I was not so proud of my victorious train,
graced by lords and knights, nor of my success in battle, nor of the
praises of the bards, as I am at this old man’s silent tears and this
maiden’s fond affection. My better fortune never brought me such a
sincere welcome as this. Forgive a father’s boast, but my daughter’s
love is compensatian for all I’ve lost!”
Ellen’s cheek glowed like a rose at this high praise,for a father spoke,
and a lover heard! To hide her delight and confusion she stooped to
caress the dogs; and Malcolm’s soul was in every glance he furtively
sent in her direction. He was not unworthy of a maiden’s love. Tall,
fair and graceful, his limbs were firmly knit and hardened by manly
sport. His hair was of the sunny, flaxen hue, and his eyes blue and
keen as the eagle’s. Throughout Menteith and Lennox he knew every
pass by mountain, lake and heath; he was an expert with the bow, and
could outrun a doe even when she was winged with fear; and he could
climb right up Ben Lomond’s craggy heights, and his breath never
come quicker. His exterior accorded well with his kind heart and
frank, ardent nature. His love of truth and scorn of wrong were the
admiration of his friends; and the bards who saw his bold features kin
dle with enthusiasm as he listened to tales of high emprise, said that
Roderick Dhu would have to look to his laurels when Malcolm Graeme
came into his own.
When the four were seated in the boat and on their way to the island,
Ellen said, “Oh ! Father, why do you go so far away, and stay so long,
and, —’’her expressive eyes finished the sentence.
“My child,” he lightly replied, “the chase, mimicry of noble war, is
all the glory of Douglas that now remains to me; but,” and his voice
grew serious, “I did wander too far afield this time. I strayed far
eastward to the narrow confines of Glenfinlas where hunters and horse
men were abroad; and I fear I was recognized, for I was pursued. It
was there that I met young Graeme, who, though still a royal ward,
risked his life and estate to guide me through the passes. And for my
sake, Roderick shall give him welcome in spite of that old grievance,
then he must return, and never again run into danger for me.”
As he finished speaking, the boat reached the island, but before it
touched the beach, Sir Roderick was there to meet them. His face
flushed a little at sight of Malcolm, yet neither by word, deed, nor
glance of the eye did he fail in courtesy or hospitality; and the morn
ing of that bright summer day passed peacefully away in sport and
pleasant converse.
At noon, a messenger arrived and held a secret parley with the
Chief, He seemed to have brought evil tidings for when Sir Roder
ick joined the family circle, he was moody, and some deep scheme was
OCTOBER, IBM.