Part 59 (1/2)

'And was this man the companion of a Prince?' whispered Gerald in her ear.

'Even so; fallen fortunes bring degraded followers,' said Marietta. 'I have heard it said that many of his father's a.s.sociates were of this stamp.'

'And how could men hope to restore a cause thus contaminated and stained?' cried he, somewhat louder.

'That's what Kinloch said,' burst in Kelly; 'you remember the song--

'The Prince he swore, on his broad claymore, That he 'd sit in his father's chair, But there wasn't a man, outside his clan, That wanted to see him there, boys, That wanted to see him there.'

'A black falsehood, as black as ever a traitor uttered!' cried Gerald, whose pa.s.sion burst all bounds.

'Here's to the traitors--hip, hip! To the traitors, for it was--

'The traitors all in St. Cannes's hall, They feasted merrily there, While the wearied men sought the bleak, wild glen, And tasted but sorry fare, boys, Tasted but sorry fare.

'Oh, if I 'd a voice, and could have my choice, I know with whom I 'd be, Not the hungry lads, with their threadbare plaids, But the lords of high degree, boys, The lords of high degree.'

'And so thought the Prince too, cried he out fiercely, and in a tone meant for an insolent taunt. 'He liked the easy life and the soft couch of St. Germains far better than the long march and the heather-bed in the Highlands.'

'How long must I endure this fellow's insolence?' whispered Gerald to Marietta, in a voice trembling with pa.s.sion.

'For my sake, Gherardi,' she began; but the Fra overheard the words, and with a drunken laugh broke in--

'If you have a drop of Stuart blood in you, you 'll yield to the woman, whatever it is she asks.'

Stung beyond control of reason, Gerald sprang to his feet; but before he could even approach Kelly, the stout friar had grasped his short blunderbuss and c.o.c.ked it.

'Another step--one step more, and if you were the anointed King himself, instead of his b.a.s.t.a.r.d, I 'll send you to your reckoning!'

With a spring like the bound of a tiger, Gerald dashed at him; but the Fra was prepared, and, raising the weapon to his side, he fired. A wild, mad cry, blended with the loud report echoed in many a mountain gorge, and the youth fell dead on the sward.

Marietta threw herself down upon the corpse, kissing the lifeless lips, and clasping her arms around the motionless body. With every endearing word she tried to call him back to life, even for a momentary consciousness of her devotion. The love she had so long denied him, she now offered; she would be his and his only. With the wild eloquence of a mind on fire, she pictured forth a future, now brightened with all that successful ambition could confer, now blessed with the tranquil joys of some secluded existence. Alas! he was beyond the reach of either fortune. The last of the Stuarts lay still and stark on the cold earth, his blue eyes staring without a blink at the strong sun.

When some peasants pa.s.sed on the following day they found Marietta seated beside the dead body, the cold hand clasped within both her own, and her eyes riveted upon the features; her mind was gone, and, save a few broken, indistinct mutterings, she never spoke again.

As for Kelly, none ever could trace him. Some allege that he dashed over the precipice and was killed; others aver that he sailed that same night from St. Stephano for America, where he was afterwards seen and recognised by many.

The little cypress tree in the mountains which once marked the grave of the last of the Stuarts has long since withered.

THE END

APPENDIX

NOTE I

There is a fragment of a letter from Sir Conway Seymour to Horace Walpole, written from Rome, where the writer had gone for reasons of health, and in which the pa.s.sing news and gossip of the day are narrated in all the careless freedom of friendly confidence. Much, by far the greater part, of the epistle is filled up by artistic discussion about pictures and statues, with little histories of the frauds and rogueries to which connoisseurs.h.i.+p was exposed; there is also a sprinkling of scandal, a light and flippant sketch of Roman moralities, which really might have been written in our own day; some pa.s.sing allusions to political events there are also; and lastly, there comes the part which more peculiarly concerns my story. After a little flourish of trumpets about his own social success, and the cordial intimacy with which he was admitted into the best houses of Rome, he says, 'Atterbury's letters of course opened many a door that would have been closed against me as an Englishman, and gave me facilities rarely extended to one of our country. To this happy circ.u.mstance am I indebted for a scene which I can never cease to remember, as one of the strangest of my life. You are aware that though at the great levees of the cardinals large crowds are a.s.sembled, many presenting themselves who have no personal acquaintance with the host, at the smaller receptions an exclusiveness prevails unknown in any other land. To such an excess has this been carried, that to certain houses, such as the Abbezi and the Piombino, few out of the rank of royalty are ever invited. To the former of these great families it was my fortune to be invited last Wednesday, and although my gout entered a bold protest against dress shoes and buckles, I determined to go.