Flower o' the Heather: A Story of the Killing Times

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Flower o' the Heather: A Story of the Killing Times Page 39

by Robert William MacKenna


  *CHAPTER XXXIX*

  *FALSE HOPES*

  The tears were streaming down my cheeks.

  I could contain myself no longer. "Then, Mary is alive," I cried."Thank God! thank God!"

  The packman raised a warning hand, and in a steady voice which, to myfevered ears, sounded harsh and cold, said: "Haud yer wheesht till Ifeenish the story." And with the sudden hope that had sprung up in mybreast quenched like a watered flame, I knitted my hands together andwaited.

  "Weel," he went on, "after they had murdered the guid-wife, the troopersgathered roond Claver'se anxious-like, for he looked deidly. But whenthey had sprinkled water on his face, he began to come tae himsel'. Byand by he opened his e'en and looked aboot him dazed like.

  "'What has happened?' he said; then, memory coming back, he cried:'Whaur the devil is the old hell-cat? Blow her brains out.' Thesergeant saluted and said, 'Your orders ha'e already been carried out,sir.' Wi' that Claver'se pulled himsel' thegither and sat up. But hewas a' o' a dither. He couldna staun' by his lane, but there was enougho' the de'il left in him to gi'e orders to set the steadin' on fire andburn it to the ground. When the place was a' in a blaze and the roofhad fallen in, he sent off others to round up the cattle and the sheepand drive them to Kirkcudbright.

  "'Nothing like making a clean job o't,' he said. Then wi' the help o'the sergeant he mounted his horse, but his heid went licht again and hecouldna sit in the saddle. So there was naething for it but to cairryhim back to heidquarters. The sergeant and maybe a dozen dragoons wereleft behind to see that the fire didna gang oot till the bodies werecompletely destroyed. The rest set oot for heidquarters, taking it inturns to cairry Claver'se on a stretcher they had knocked thegither,while others drove the cattle behin'.

  "That is the story," said Hector, "as the trooper telled it to me.Though my heart was heavy, I forced up the ghost o' a laugh when he hadfeenished and said, 'So that was what the guid-wife o' Daldowie did toClaver'se. Weel, weel, a bonnie tale!' Then I plied him wi' mairdrink, for there was something else I wanted to ken, aboot which he hadsaid naething. And when he had primed his pipe aince mair I saidswitherin'-like, as though I were tryin' to mind something: 'Let me see.I think in my traivels I ha'e visited Daldowie. If I'm no wrang I aincesold a ribbon to a bonnie lass there, wha I took for the dochter. Didye see onything o' her when ye were up by?' The trooper shook his heid.

  "'No,' he said, 'I saw naething o' ony bonnie lass, and it was as weelfor her, for in the mood that Claver'se was in he would ha'e made shortwork o' her tae. Are ye sure ye're no' mistaken?' he asked.

  "'No, no,' I said, 'I'm no mistaken. If I min' richtly the lassie'sname was Mary.'

  "'Weel,' he replied, 'I saw naething o' her while I was at Daldowie.But I'm thinkin' that if she happened to be hidin' onywhere aboot shewad be discovered by the sergeant and the men that were left behin', andmair than likely they'd mak' a clean job by feenishing her tae.Hooever,' he said, 'if it'll be ony satisfaction to ye, I'll speir atane o' the men wha' was left behin' wi' the sergeant. And if ye're herethe morn, at this time, it will gi'e me pleasure tae drink the health o'the King wi' ye again and I'll then be able to tell ye what ye want token.'

  "Wi' that he rose, and I pressed anither truss o' Virginia weed in hishand and promised to wait for him in the inn the next day. So off hewent, but at the door o' the parlour he turned and flung a kiss to theservin'-maid wha was keekin' through the ither door after him. When Ihad had anither pipe, I found a bield bit in a field, and, wi' my heidon my pack, I settled myself to sleep. I was in great hopes o' hearin'mair when I met the trooper again: but in the grey dawn I heard thesoond o' horses coming alang the road, and peepin' through the hedge Isaw Claver'se at the heid o' his dragoons makin' for the hills. Thetrooper I had cracked wi' was among them. That is the last I ever sawo' him, and as they didna come back tae the toon that nicht, I didnalearn what he had to tell. But I turned the thing ower in my mind andsaid to mysel', 'Ane o' twa things has happened--either Mary cam' backand was ta'en by the troopers and martyred like her father and mother,or she escaped and is somewhere in hidin'.' And I said to myself,'Hector, if the lassie's leevin', it's for you to find her.' So Ishouldered my pack and set oot for the west again. I wandered fraehoose to hoose, frae cottage to cottage, frae clachan to clachan, ayewi' the ae quest in my mind, aye wi' the same question on my lips, andkeepin' my ears wide open to hear some whisper if I could o' bonnie MaryPaterson.

  "I went west as far as the sea. On my road back again I passed here andthere and everywhere. But frae Portpatrick to the brig end o' DumfriesI saw neither sign nor heard a word o' her."

  He ceased, and a silence fell upon us, so heavy that our hearts werecrushed and not one of us dared speak. At last I rose, and crept out ofthe cave. I stood on the ledge above the frozen pool and felt the icegather about my heart. Was Mary dead or not? This awful uncertaintywas harder to bear than the knowledge I had believed was mine. Islipped my hand into the pocket over my heart and drew from it thefragment of her ring. It lay glistening faintly in the light in my openhand, and then I could not see it for my tears. Mary was dead! I satdown and buried my face in my hands. My soul was in the depths.

 

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