Bonnie Prince Charlie | Page 8

difficult it was for her sometimes to do so. It could not be otherwise. I
am as much out of place here as a wolf in a sheepfold. As to the
droving, I shall not mention to all I meet that I am brother to one of the
bailies of Glasgow. I shall like the life. The rough pony I shall ride will
differ in his paces from my old charger, but at least it will be life in the
saddle. I shall be earning an honest living; if I take more than is good
for me I may get a broken head and none be the wiser, whereas if I
remain here and fall foul of the city watch it would be grief and pain for
you."
The bailie was silenced. He had already begun to perceive that
Malcolm's ways and manners were incompatible with the peace and
quiet of a respectable household, and that Janet's complaints were not
altogether unreasonable. He had seen many of his acquaintances lift
their eyebrows in disapprobation at the roystering talk of his brother,
and had foreseen that it was probable trouble would come.
At the same rime he felt a repugnance to the thought that after so many
years of absence his brother should so soon quit his house. It seemed a
reflection alike on his affection and hospitality.
"You will take charge of the child, won't you?" Malcolm pleaded.
"There is a purse of a hundred louis, which will, I should say, pay for
any expense to which he may put you for some years."
"As if I would take the bairn's money!" Andrew exclaimed angrily.

"What do you take me for, Malcolm? Assuredly I will take the child.
Janet and I have no bairn of our own, and it's good for a house to have a
child in it. I look upon it as if it were yours, for it is like enough you
will never hear of its father again. It will have a hearty welcome. It is a
bright little fellow, and in time I doubt not that Janet will take greatly to
it. The charge of a child is a serious matter, and we cannot hope that we
shall not have trouble with it, but there is trouble in all things. At any
rate, Malcolm, we will do our best, and if at the end of a year I find that
Janet has not taken to it we will see about some other arrangement. And,
Malcolm, I do trust that you will stay with us for another week or two.
It would seem to me as if I had turned you out of my house were you to
leave me so soon."
So Malcolm made a three weeks' stay at his brother's, and then started
upon his new occupation of driving Highland cattle down into
Lancashire. Once every two or three months he came to Glasgow for a
week or two between his trips. In spite of Andrew's entreaties he
refused on these occasions to take up his abode with him, but took a
lodging not far off, coming in the evening for an hour to smoke a pipe
with his brother, and never failing of a morning to come in and take the
child for a long walk with him, carrying him upon his shoulder, and
keeping up a steady talk with him in his native French, which he was
anxious that the boy should nor forget, as at some time or other he
might again return to France.
Some weeks after Malcolm's return to Scotland, he wrote to Colonel
Leslie, briefly giving his address at Glasgow; but making no allusion to
the child, as, if the colonel were still in prison, the letter would be sure
to be opened by the authorities. He also wrote to the major, giving him
his address, and begging him to communicate it to Colonel Leslie
whenever he should see him; that done, there was nothing for it but to
wait quietly. The post was so uncertain in those days that he had but
slight hope that either of his letters would ever reach their destination.
No answer came to either of his letters.
Four years later Malcolm went over to Paris, and cautiously made
inquiries; but no one had heard anything of Colonel Leslie from the day
he had been arrested. The regiment was away fighting in the Low
Countries, and the only thing Malcolm could do was to call upon the
people who had had charge of the child, to give them his address in

case the colonel should ever appear to inquire of them. He found,
however, the house tenanted by other people. He learned that the last
occupants had left years before. The neighbors remembered that one
morning