"You do wrong to allow so much dust and disorder," he said sharply. "I
could write my name in that mirror, and there is a piece of brocade fallen
to the floor. Look to it that you keep the place more neat."
There was dead silence for a moment; then MacLean spoke in an even voice:
"Now a fool might call you as brave as Hector. For myself, I only give you
credit for some knowledge of men. You are right. It is not my way to
strike in the back an unarmed man. When you are gone, I will wipe off the
mirror and pick up the brocade."
He followed Haward outside. "It's a brave evening for riding," he
remarked, "and you have a bonny bit of horseflesh there. You'll get to the
house before candlelight."
Beside one of the benches Haward made another pause. "You are a Highlander
and a Jacobite," he said. "From your reference to Forster, I gather that
you were among the prisoners taken at Preston and transported to
Virginia."
"In the Elizabeth and Anne of Liverpool, alias a bit of hell afloat; the
master, Captain Edward Trafford, alias Satan's first mate," quoth the
other grimly.
He stooped to the bench where lay the débris of the coast and mountains he
had been lately building, and picked up a small, deep shell. "My story is
short," he began. "It could be packed into this. I was born in the island
of Mull, of my father a chieftain, and my mother a lady. Some schooling I
got in Aberdeen, some pleasure in Edinburgh and London, and some service
abroad. In my twenty-third year--being at home at that time--I was asked
to a hunting match at Braemar, and went. No great while afterwards I was
bidden to supper at an Edinburgh tavern, and again I accepted the
invitation. There was a small entertainment to follow the supper,--just
the taking of Edinburgh Castle. But the wine was good, and we waited to
powder our hair, and the entertainment could hardly be called a success.
Hard upon that convivial evening, I, with many others, was asked across
the Border to join a number of gentlemen who drank to the King after our
fashion, and had a like fancy for oak boughs and white roses. The weather
was pleasant, the company of the best, the roads very noble after our
Highland sheep tracks. Together with our English friends, and enlivened by
much good claret and by music of bagpipe and drum, we strolled on through
a fine, populous country until we came to a town called Preston, where we
thought we would tarry for a day or two. However, circumstances arose
which detained us somewhat longer. (I dare say you have heard the story?)
When finally we took our leave, some of us went to heaven, some to hell,
and some to Barbadoes and Virginia. I was among those dispatched to
Virginia, and to all intents and purposes I died the day I landed. There,
the shell is full!"