It had been a dull enough day for me before the two travellers arrived.
Not but what the life of a change-house on the banks of the Forth is a lively thing sometimes, but that day, decidedly, it had not been. Serving chopins of ale or slices of apple-pie to the few customers who came in so early; wiping the tables and strewing fresh sawdust on the floor; leaning on the doorpost and watching the blue waves lapping one after another upon the shore down at the bottom of the street—nothing more exciting had I done all day. And perhaps that was why I took an interest in them, at first. It was something new to see strange faces; something unusual that they had plainly the manners of gentry and yet were dressed in ragged clothes and asking for nothing finer than bread and cheese; something else when they came back so suddenly, and one of them so gravely ill.
Well, of course I must ask what was wrong with him. And of course I listened to the answers with more and more interest—more than ever, when his companion leaned across the table to me and, with his crafty bit of whistling, told me the reason why they were so poor, and in such danger...
Certainly it was thrilling to think that here was a hunted Jacobite, on the run from the red-coats, probably under an attainder and certainly in danger of his life. For myself I don't claim to understand politics very acutely, and I was but a wee lassie of thirteen when Charles Edward Stuart came to Scotland; yet I remembered well the to-do there had been at Limekilns when he did, and when his army marched upon Edinburgh. We were all ardent Jacobites in those days, even the least of us. I stayed up till two o'clock one night with my older cousins, sewing cockades out of our wee bits of white ribbon, and a few days after that my uncle took us all across to Edinburgh in his boat to see the—Young Chevalier, I ought to say, taking a parade of his troops in the camp at Duddingston. A braw sight he was, too.
All those memories came back to me in a flash as I looked at this unfortunate young gentleman leaning upon his friend's shoulder as though he might just faint away. But something else came into my mind also, while I watched them. I saw with what tender care the little man in the blue coat supported his friend in his arms and helped him to eat the poor food they had bought of me; I saw the anxiety that made him speak so shortly and angrily to me, before turning all his attention back to the sick laddie as though there was no one else in the world; I saw a certain way the lad had of looking back at him, when out of the weariness and sickness that dimmed his eyes they would suddenly sparkle for a moment with a sort of amused but heart-felt affection, so that his whole countenance was changed and brightened. Although I am but a serving-maid in this obscure little place, still I know something of the world, and I began to wonder whether, after all, it was not exactly Charlie who was his darling, if you understand my meaning.
Well, in any case, I decided, 'twas no concern of mine. But the sight of such mutual devotion, no matter just what they were to each other, quite melted my heart. So it was that I went and fetched them some better food and drink, and told them they need not think of payment, and set myself to thinking how I might help them further. True, I was a little feared at the thought of aiding outlawed men, and I said at first that I couldnae; but even as I said it I knew that I must.
I sent them to hide in the wood above the beach, and all the rest of that day I spent in thinking. I worked out my plan, and rehearsed in my head a hundred times how I would slip out of the house once my father was asleep and go down to Alistair Cargill's boat where it lay moored below the village and row out in it down to the wood... and then across Forth. All the time I was cleaning the glasses and watching pots on the stove and gossiping with the customers, I was thinking over my scheme. I was bored no more that day.
I thought a deal more about them I was to help, too. I must doubt myself, and wonder if I had been quite right to trust them and promise them my assistance after all. It was unco strange the way they had come back to the change-house so sudden, when nothing had seemed at all wrong with the lad when they first came in. It was odder still how he had insisted so that he was such a great friend to King George, when the other one had made it clear to me that his being a Jacobite was what all the trouble was about. Reassured as I was to know that he was Mr Rankeillor's friend, I could not deny that it was strange.
But I am not one for breaking my word. A poor obscure lassie who lives by helping her father in his change-house may have as much pride in her honour as the grandest gentleman in Scotland has in his. Even if all they had said to me was not quite true, it was plain they really needed my help, and I had said I would help them. I would not desert them now.
At last I came down towards the wood, with the moonlight shining upon the little waves my oars (or, rather, Alistair Cargill's oars; he's a good man and a good friend, and I am sure would understand if he knew) made in the dark water, and as I drew in towards the shore I heard their voices murmuring together. There was the little man speaking low with laughter in his voice, telling his friend to take heart, for their troubles were almost over and he would soon be home again. Then I saw them, through the branches of the hazels and alders, sitting close together upon the ground, and he continuing, '...and ye shall be'—and then a name, which I made sure to forget as soon as I might, for it was the name of an estate as well as his own name—'in truth! Quite as grand as ye like,' and the other replied by telling him to stop being silly, and then kissed him. It was a sweetheart's kiss, no doubt about it.
I looked away, smiling to think that I had guessed rightly; and then I made a great splashing with my oars in the water to let them know I had arrived (for it was sure enough that they had not seen me). There was a rustling of coats as they moved apart; and a moment afterwards I had my feet on dry land and was going to meet them.
Well, I rowed them across to the southern shore with no trouble; and then I said good-bye to them both, and shook their hands, and went back over Forth with my heart fairly singing. For one thing, it had been an adventure; and for another, well, whether we are really for King George or whether we are of the other party, it's a certain thing that there is not enough love in the world in these sorry days. I was right glad to think that these two odd sweethearts would find some happiness, wherever they were going.