It was at the corner of Church Street on the week following the engagement at Glenmoriston, that Miss Macpherson, busied about a few purchases, stopped very sharply opposite the tavern1 of Major James Fraser (commonly known as Castleleathers) and peered with signs of agitation2 at a printed paper hung in the window. A casual onlooker3 would never have known Miss Macpherson was even faintly moved by what she read, but a close observer would have seen her mouth close tightly, her brows droop4 over her keen eyes, her hands clutch the parcels in her arms spasmodically. It was enough to startle any woman. Indeed, most people would have lost their heads, and done something foolish.
For the contents of the paper were principally devoted5 to a personal description of one "Rob Fraser, a rebel at large, dressed in a kilt of the Fraser tartan with a dark coat—sixteen years and over—of strong build and dark-haired, who was in arms against the Government at Culloden and has since broken prison from Fort Augustus, skulked6 with desperate rebels and recently killed, in company with one called Muckle John, a notorious Jacobite, a number of his Majesty's forces in the country of Glenmoriston. Whoever shall lay the said Rob Fraser by the heels shall receive the sum of fifty pounds," and so on.
There was much more, but Miss Macpherson, sick at heart, walked slowly away. It would not do for her to be seen reading the thing. Her mind was stunned7 for a moment. She did not notice where she went, or the passers-by. It was only when she knocked against a great man standing8 at the corner of the street that she started and looked up.
It was Castleleathers.
She knew him slightly as a distant cousin of Rob's father, but would have gone on her way had he not greeted her.
"A fine day, Miss Macpherson," he said loudly, as a couple of soldiers tramped past them along the road, and then in a low tone, "have you news of Rob?"
"No," she replied, "and no news is like to be good news in these times. What set him meddling9 with such things—the feckless loon10?"
He jerked his head towards his house.
"Come away in," he whispered, "we must see what can be done."
Together they entered the place and going upstairs came to an upper room.
He was a very heavy, red-faced, helpless kind of man. His massive incompetence11 under stress of emergency irritated her to tartness12.
"It was here Rob met that soft-spoken gomeril, Muckle John," she snapped.
"And I suspect the man who gave him my address that evening, Major Fraser."
"Dear me, Miss Macpherson, ye say so?"
"That I do, my man, and what's more he's in this very room."
With a pathetic simulation of surprise Castleleathers made as though to look over his shoulder.
"It's yersel'," said Miss Macpherson coldly.
"When ye mention it," he began like a man struggling to recall a distant event, "when ye mention it, maybe I did say I was second cousin to Rob who lived with his aunt near by—I'm no denying anything mind ye, I merely say maybe I did in the course of conversation, a pleasantry madam, a bit of gossip..."
"It's like to be a dear bit of gossip for Rob," she retorted, "and that no so far away."
"Tuts! you take too serious a view. It will all blow over—all blow over. There has been trouble before, I mind the '15, it was just the same, and before a few months had passed all the folk were going about their ways just the same and keeping their claymores oiled for the next time. Rob is a lad of spirit, Miss Macpherson, and they will not take him."
But she was not listening to him. She was revolving15 in the depths of her mind some kind of plan, any sort of crazy plan that would save Rob. The day when he could have surrendered and escaped with a few months' imprisonment16 was past; he was now a notorious rebel still in arms, and associated with desperate leaders amongst the rebel army. There was no hope of shielding him until better days. It must be escape across the sea—or a pardon. But the idea of a pardon was, of course, absurd.
"What can we do?" she said in a kind of restrained despair.
Castleleathers blinked.
But she froze him with a single look.
"I am in no mind for argument," she said, "and our business is to get Rob free. I have at the back of my head a plan of a kind, but it will need sleeping on."
"But I cannot risk my neck even to assist you, Miss Macpherson."
"My man," she replied grimly, "you will risk your neck if you don't. Who shielded Muckle John, that desperate rogue18, in Inverness under Lord London's verra nose but just yersel'?"
"How did ye know?" he whispered, much taken aback.
"I didna," she replied comfortably, "but I suspected as much."
"He was an old friend."
"That would tickle19 the ears of the Duke, he has a sair grudge20 against Muckle John, he told me so himsel'. He said he'd willingly hang any one who gave him shelter."
Castleleathers shrank back.
"He said that did he?" he murmured aghast.
She nodded her head.
"He's no sae sure of you as it is," she added.
He appeared considerably21 dejected at this, and said again and again that he did not know what could be done at all.
"We must compel him to sign a pardon," said Miss Macpherson, "we must put the fear of death upon him, Castleleathers. You are a very large, powerful man, as great in the chest as Muckle John himsel"—she paused, eyeing him keenly—"my certes," she cried, "but there's a notion for you ... could ye no let on you were Muckle John?"
"I ... Muckle John? My dear lady..."
"You are fatter than he and without his spirit of course, but how can the Duke tell that? I have a friend inside the Fort, a Macpherson, third cousin to my mother's step-daughter and a douce quiet man. He would do what he can though he has a sound respect for his neck."
"I am with him there," sighed Castleleathers. "I hope, madam, that you propose nothing rash."
After that there fell a most melancholy23 silence. The major, who had hoped to spend a peaceful old age, and who had stepped like a cat among puddles24 during the last disturbance25, wished Muckle John far enough and Miss Macpherson much farther.
The whole heart of the warm fire (and it was a chill day) seemed to have fallen into thin ashes. He shivered dismally26 and took a dreary27 relish28 in praying that he might catch his death of cold.
Once he screwed his eye slowly about and let it rest moodily upon Miss Macpherson. But she was absorbed in her scheming, and that is a game that comes painfully to untutored persons.
"I see nothing for it," she said at last, "but just to shoot him."
"Who else—he'd be no loss. There's little of the William Wallace in you, my man."
"I am not wanting in personal courage," groaned30 Castleleathers, "indeed, I have seen service abroad, but this is beneath me, madam—quite beneath me."
Miss Macpherson leaped at a grim jest to bring him to his senses.
"There'll be nothing beneath ye if you don't," she said swiftly.
"Who knows," he said thoughtfully, "but a little playful threatening might not win our purpose, just a pistol waving carelessly in the hand, and a claymore at the side, the iron hand under the velvet34 glove, madam—ye take me?"
"I'll take ye right enough," said Miss Macpherson, "if Rob's life depends on us two, there'll be no shirking."
"If only my heart were in the work," sighed the major pensively35, "I would not care a bawbee for the Duke or ony body. Could you not get in touch with Muckle John, the Duke is feared of him belike..."
"My man," broke in Miss Macpherson, "you are slow in the uptake, you are to be Muckle John."
He raised his head at that in a speechless tragedy of silence.
"Me?" he whispered. "Me Muckle John—oh, what is this nonsense you propose?"
"I have not decided36 upon it at random," she replied, "and it seems practicable. I have some knowledge of the Duke's habits, and let us but once get him alone and we will force him to sign a pardon for Rob. He goes south soon, so we must act at once. You, Castleleathers, must wrap yersel' up in a plaid to your nose and when we find him by himsel' you shall threaten his life."
"But you—where will you be?"
"I shall be watching ye—never fear—meet me to-morrow and we'll journey south. The final plans I'll devise, and dinna fail me or I'll tell the Duke how ye knew Lovat himsel', and they'll take ye to London as a witness."
"No, no," cried the major in a panic of fright, "I will be there never fear, but it's like I'll see London in a very different capacity."
点击收听单词发音
1 tavern | |
n.小旅馆,客栈;小酒店 | |
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2 agitation | |
n.搅动;搅拌;鼓动,煽动 | |
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3 onlooker | |
n.旁观者,观众 | |
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4 droop | |
v.低垂,下垂;凋萎,萎靡 | |
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5 devoted | |
adj.忠诚的,忠实的,热心的,献身于...的 | |
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6 skulked | |
v.潜伏,偷偷摸摸地走动,鬼鬼祟祟地活动( skulk的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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7 stunned | |
adj. 震惊的,惊讶的 动词stun的过去式和过去分词 | |
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8 standing | |
n.持续,地位;adj.永久的,不动的,直立的,不流动的 | |
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9 meddling | |
v.干涉,干预(他人事务)( meddle的现在分词 ) | |
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10 loon | |
n.狂人 | |
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11 incompetence | |
n.不胜任,不称职 | |
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12 tartness | |
n.酸,锋利 | |
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13 moodily | |
adv.喜怒无常地;情绪多变地;心情不稳地;易生气地 | |
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14 stony | |
adj.石头的,多石头的,冷酷的,无情的 | |
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15 revolving | |
adj.旋转的,轮转式的;循环的v.(使)旋转( revolve的现在分词 );细想 | |
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16 imprisonment | |
n.关押,监禁,坐牢 | |
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17 vaguely | |
adv.含糊地,暖昧地 | |
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18 rogue | |
n.流氓;v.游手好闲 | |
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19 tickle | |
v.搔痒,胳肢;使高兴;发痒;n.搔痒,发痒 | |
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20 grudge | |
n.不满,怨恨,妒嫉;vt.勉强给,不情愿做 | |
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21 considerably | |
adv.极大地;相当大地;在很大程度上 | |
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22 stoutly | |
adv.牢固地,粗壮的 | |
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23 melancholy | |
n.忧郁,愁思;adj.令人感伤(沮丧)的,忧郁的 | |
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24 puddles | |
n.水坑, (尤指道路上的)雨水坑( puddle的名词复数 ) | |
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25 disturbance | |
n.动乱,骚动;打扰,干扰;(身心)失调 | |
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26 dismally | |
adv.阴暗地,沉闷地 | |
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27 dreary | |
adj.令人沮丧的,沉闷的,单调乏味的 | |
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28 relish | |
n.滋味,享受,爱好,调味品;vt.加调味料,享受,品味;vi.有滋味 | |
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29 gasped | |
v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 );喘息;倒抽气;很想要 | |
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30 groaned | |
v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 );发牢骚;抱怨;受苦 | |
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31 recoiled | |
v.畏缩( recoil的过去式和过去分词 );退缩;报应;返回 | |
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32 deplored | |
v.悲叹,痛惜,强烈反对( deplore的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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33 brutality | |
n.野蛮的行为,残忍,野蛮 | |
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34 velvet | |
n.丝绒,天鹅绒;adj.丝绒制的,柔软的 | |
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35 pensively | |
adv.沉思地,焦虑地 | |
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36 decided | |
adj.决定了的,坚决的;明显的,明确的 | |
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