Master rode to the North; which was the more sorrowful for others

to remember when it seemed too late. By fear and favour he had

scraped together near upon a dozen men, principally tenants' sons;

they were all pretty full when they set forth, and rode up the hill

by the old abbey, roaring and singing, the white cockade in every

hat. It was a desperate venture for so small a company to cross

the most of Scotland unsupported; and (what made folk think so the

more) even as that poor dozen was clattering up the hill, a great

ship of the king's navy, that could have brought them under with a

single boat, lay with her broad ensign streaming in the bay. The

next afternoon, having given the Master a fair start, it was Mr.

Henry's turn; and he rode off, all by himself, to offer his sword

and carry letters from his father to King George's Government.

Miss Alison was shut in her room, and did little but weep, till

both were gone; only she stitched the cockade upon the Master's

hat, and (as John Paul told me) it was wetted with tears when he

carried it down to him.

In all that followed, Mr. Henry and my old lord were true to their

bargain. That ever they accomplished anything is more than I could

learn; and that they were anyway strong on the king's side, more

than believe. But they kept the letter of loyalty, corresponded

with my Lord President, sat still at home, and had little or no

commerce with the Master while that business lasted. Nor was he,

on his side, more communicative. Miss Alison, indeed, was always

sending him expresses, but I do not know if she had many answers.

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