Part 1 (1/2)
A Daughter of Raasay.
by William MacLeod Raine.
FOREWORD
When this romance touches history the author believes that it is, in every respect, with one possible exception, in accord with the accepted facts.
In detailing the history of ”the '45'” and the sufferings of the misguided gentlemen who flung away the scabbard out of loyalty to a worthless cause, care has been taken to make the story agree with history. The writer does not of course indorse the view of Prince Charles' character herein set forth by Kenneth Montagu, but there is abundant evidence to show that the Young Chevalier had in a very large degree those qualities which were lacking to none of the Stuarts: a charming personality and a gallant bearing. If his later life did not fulfil the promise of his youth, the unhappy circ.u.mstances which hampered him should be kept in mind as an extenuation.
The thanks of the writer are due for pertinent criticism to Miss Chase, to Mr. Arthur Chapman and to Mr. James Rain, and especially to Mr. Ellery Sedgwick, whose friendly interest and kindly encouragement have been unfailing.
Acknowledgment must also be made of a copious use of Horace Walpole's Letters, the Chevalier Johnstone's History of the Rebellion, and other eighteenth century sources of information concerning the incidents of the times. The author has taken the liberty of using several anecdotes and _bon mots_ mentioned in the ”Letters”; but he has in each case put the story in the mouth of its historical originator.
W. M. R.
A DAUGHTER OF RAASAY
CHAPTER I
THE SPORT OF CHANCE
”Deep play!” I heard Major Wolfe whisper to Lord Balmerino. ”Can Montagu's estate stand such a drain?”
”No. He will be dipped to the last pound before midnight. 'Tis Volney's doing. He has angled for Montagu a se'nnight, and now he has hooked him. I have warned the lad, but----”
He shrugged his shoulders.
The Scotchman was right. I was past all caution now, past all restraint.
The fever of play had gripped me, and I would listen to nothing but the rattle of that little box which makes the most seductive music ever sung by siren. My Lord Balmerino might stand behind me in silent protest till all was grey, and though he had been twenty times my father's friend he would not move me a jot.
Volney's smoldering eyes looked across the table at me.
”Your cast, Kenn. Shall we say doubles? You'll nick this time for sure.”
”Done! Nine's the main,” I cried, and threw deuces.
With that throw down crashed fifty ancestral oaks that had weathered the storms of three hundred winters. I had crabbed, not nicked.
”The fickle G.o.ddess is not with you to-day, Kenn. The jade jilts us all at times,” drawled Volney, as he raked in his winnings carelessly.
”Yet I have noted that there are those whom she forsakes not often, and I have wondered by what charmed talisman they hold her true,” flashed out Balmerino.
The steel flickered into Volney's eyes. He understood it for no chance remark, but as an innuendo tossed forth as a challenge. Of all men Sir Robert Volney rode on the crest of fortune's wave, and there were not lacking those who whispered that his invariable luck was due to something more than chance and honest skill. For me, I never believed the charge.
With all his faults Volney had the sportsman's love of fair play.
The son of a plain country gentleman, he had come to be by reason of his handsome face, his reckless courage, his unfailing impudence, and his gift of _savoir-vivre_, the most notorious and fortunate of the adventurers who swarmed at the court of St. James. By dint of these and kindred qualities he had become an intimate companion of the Prince of Wales. The man had a wide observation of life; indeed, he was an interested and whimsical observer rather than an actor, and a scoffer always. A libertine from the head to the heel of him, yet gossip marked him as the future husband of the beautiful young heiress Antoinette Westerleigh. For the rest, he carried an itching sword and the smoothest tongue that ever graced a villain. I had been proud that such a man had picked me for his friend, entirely won by the charm of manner that made his more evil faults sit gracefully on him.
Volney declined for the present the quarrel that Balmerino's impulsive loyalty to me would have fixed on him. He feared no living man, but he was no hothead to be drawn from his purpose. If Lord Balmerino wanted to measure swords with him he would accommodate the old Scotch peer with the greatest pleasure on earth, but not till the time fitted him. He answered easily: