Part 33 (1/2)

”Gain! Who spoke of gain? Are you a Jew peddler or an English gentleman?”

cried Donald.

”They call me dissolute, gambler, profligate. These be hard names, but I have earned them all. I make no apologies and offer no excuses. As I have lived my life, so have I lived it. For b.u.t.tered phrases I have no taste.

Call me libertine, or call me man of fas.h.i.+on; 'tis all one. My evil nature--_C'est plus fort que moi_. At least I have not played the hypocrite. No canting sighs! No lapses to morality and prayers! No vices smugly hidden! The plain straight road to h.e.l.l taken at a gallop!” So, with chin in hand and dark eyes lit by the flickering flame, this roue and sentimentalist philosophized.

”And Montagu?” cried the Gael, harking back to his prosaic text.

”Has made his bed and he must lie in it.”

”By Heaven, who ruined him and made an outlaw of him? Who drove him to rebellion?”

”You imply that I strewed his bed with nettles. Perhaps. 'Tis well my shoulders are broad, else they could not bear all that is laid upon them.”

”You would never be letting a petty private grudge influence you?”

Volney turned, stung to the quick.

”You go too far, Captain Macdonald. Have I given bonds to save this fool from the consequences of his folly? I cherish no hatred toward him, but I play no Jonathan to his David. Egad, it were a pretty role for me to essay! You would cast me for a part full of heroics, the moving of heaven and earth to save my dearest enemy. Thank you, I am not for it. Neither for nor against him will I lift a hand. There is no malice in my heart toward this poor condemned young gentleman. If he can win free I shall be glad, even though his gain is my loss, but further than that I will not go. He came between me and the thing I most desired on earth. Shall I help him to the happiness which will condemn me to misery?”

For an instant the habitual veil of mockery was s.n.a.t.c.hed aside and the tortured soul of the man leaped from his burning eyes.

”You saved him at Portree,” was all that Donald could say.

”I paid a debt to him and to c.u.mberland. The ledger is now balanced.”

The Jacobite paced up and down the room for a minute, then stopped and touched the other on his shoulder where he sat.

”I too am somewhat in your debt, Sir Robert. When Montagu opposed you he fought for his own hand. Therein he was justified. But I, an outsider, interfered in a quarrel that was not mine own, spoiled sport for you, in short lost you the la.s.sie. You followed her to Scotland; 'twas I that drove you back to England when Montagu was powerless. From first to last I am the rock on which your love bark has split. If your cause has spelled failure I alone am to blame.”

”So? What then?”

”Why this: without Captain Donald Roy Macdonald the lad had been helpless.

Donald was at his back to whisper words of advice and encouragement.

Donald contrived the plot which separated you from the lady. Donald stood good fairy to the blessed pair of bairns and made of himsel' a match-making auld mither. You owe your hatred to Donald Roy and not to the lad who was but his instrument.”

The macaroni looked at the other with an odd smile twitching at the corners of his mouth.

”And so?”

”And so,” continued the Macdonald triumphantly, a challenge in his voice and manner, ”and so, who but Donald should be your enemy? My certes, a prettier foe at the broadsword you will not find in a' Scotland.”

”I do not quite take your meaning. Would you fight with me?”

”Blithe would I be to cross the steel with you, but little that would help Kenneth. My plan is this: save the lad from the halter and I will tak' his place.”

”You mean that if I compa.s.s his freedom you will surrender to be executed?”