CHAPTER XVI. "His easy, vacant face, proclaimed a heart." CHURCHILL. KNOCKWHINNIE, from the time he parted with Southennan, had not been idle. After giving Stayns his horse, he went to the Unicorn, a tavern in the then fashionable Canongate, kept by one Thomas Balwham. This tavern was much frequented by the courtiers and-persons of note, who had occasion to visit Edinburgh. At this particular time it was the resort of the French gentlemen who came over with the Queen; and the object of Knockwhinnie in going there, was to obtain what information he could respecting Dufroy. On entering the house, he went straight to the host's private apartment, for he had known him in other times, and no sooner did Balwham see him, than he exclaimed, "Eh! Knockwhinnie, where hae ye been this mony a-day. Oh! but I'm blythe to see you; and nae doubt ye hae heard the news, or ye wouldna' been so venturesome as to come in fair day-light to Embro." Knockwhinnie shook his old familiar host warmly by the hand, without speaking. He then sat down in an obscure corner of the room, and appeared a good deal affected by recollections which seemed suddenly to break upon him. Balwham, seeing his emotion, resumed "Its nae marvel, Knockwhinnie, that the news troubles you, for although as unfortunate mischances hae fallen out o' as gude hands, it would ha'e been an awfu' thing had ye slain the French gentlemen, instead o' that ringen deevil Montgomerie o' Auchenbrae." "What do ye mean?" exclaimed Knockwhinnie, starting in consternation from his seat, "of what news do you speak? -why of Auchenbrae ?--to what do you allude ?--and what mistake was there in the vengeance I would have inflicted on Dufroy ?" "It's no possible," replied his host, "that ye canna' hae heard the tidings that hae come wi' the gentlemen in the Queen's train. You, that the truth o' them maist concerns!" "I have heard nothing," replied the outlaw, gloomily returning into his seat; "I am but just come in. I have been for some weeks living a solitary and a savage life in the moors of the West. What is it you have heard? I beseech you to sit down, and calmly tell me, and I will endeavour to control the feelings which your strange words have in flamed." Balwham was surprised at hearing this; and, taking a chair near to Knockwhinnie, said, "Hech but ye ha'e suffered a great deal since ye were put to the horn, but I hope it's a' o'er now, especially as the Count looks weel and brawly. And then he has been sic a father to your daughter, as I ha'e heard some o' the gentlemen, that's now in the house, this very day tell :--they say he has 'dopted her for his own, and that she gangs by his name, and that nae Christian man could, for tenderness, be a truer parent." In all this there was so much strange matter, that Knockwhinnie sat in a state of confusion, as if he had been stunned by a blow. Dufroy had adopted his daughter, his attack on the Count's life was in error, the profligate Auchenbrae was the one who deserved the dagger!--these thoughts passed wildly through his mind. Unable to collect himself sufficiently to ask for an explanation, he sat with his countenance pale and vacant, and his eyes almost void of speculation, while the garulous host continued: "And it maun be sic a gratification to you to see the young leddy, whom every body says is a perfect pearlet o' beauty, and had she been a princess, would ha'e been as bonny as the Queen hersel'. She is by a' accounts mair a minion wi' the Queen's Majesty, than her wee curly white dog; a wonderfu' creature, the likes o' which was ne'er seen in the bounds o' Scottish land, till the Queen stept out the boat wi't in her ain royal arms. Sic a love and pet, they say Knockwhinnie impatiently interrupted him, and said, "For Heaven's sake, Balwham, be merciful, and have more method. Tell me what you have heard that concerns me. All the world seems to know that which I am most interested in knowing, and cannot learn!" "Deed, Knock whinnie," replied his host, "ye're really in an unco condition o' ignorance. Ha'e ye no heard that your leddy died in a convent in Caen, in Normandy?" "No." "Ha'e ye no heard that the Count has since been a father to your daughter?" "You have said so. "Ha'e ye no heard that the Count is your compassionate friend?" "Tell me how-tell me how!" "Now, Knockwhinnie, if ye'll no hear me patiently, I'll ne'er be able to make you understand the rights o' the "What is said of Auchenbrae, how comes his tarnished name to be mixed with my misfortunes?" "Ye ken they say that it was wi' him your leddy spouse jumped the castle wall, and was galloping off ahint him; when by an accident the Count, wi' the politesse o' a French cavalier, came up in the moonlight, and rescued her out o' his clutches; but before your servants that were in the pursuit reached the spot, Auchenbrae was aff and out-o'-sight; and so they thought the Count was the malefactor. That's ae version o' the tale, which a' the tongues o' the town, that ha'e any time to spare frae speaking o' the Queen's Majesty, are this night telling." "Who can prove the truth of this story?" exclaimed the outlaw, starting from his seat. "Bide a-wee-bide a-wee !" said Balwham; "dinna ye think, Knockwhinnie, that the Count himsel' is the probable man rightly to tell you the story?" At this crisis a noise and bustle was heard in the house, and the honest host was loudly called for by name. It was occasioned by the Provost's halberdiers coming in search of Knockwhinnie, against whom they had a warrant. It happened that in going out to see the occasion of the noise, Balwham left the door open, by which Knock whinnie heard his name repeated, and in consequence leaped out of the window and concealed himself in an out-house. His host, desirous to befriend him, and yet being responsible to the magistrates for his own conduct, was perplexed when he heard the purpose upon which the halberdiers had come. He, however, affecting not to understand whom it was they were in search of, spoke louder than was necessary, in order that Knockwhinnie might be apprized of his danger; and when he heard the rustle of his escape by the window, knowing by it that the bird was flown, he confidently assured the officers that the outlaw was not in the house. Upon this one of the halberdiers remarked to his companions, that his information they would still find was right, and that it would have been as well had they taken his advice, and gone straight to Widow Hutchie's, where Southennan had put up; for the man with the embroidered vest beneath a friar's cloak, who was hanging about the door of that house, was assuredly no other than Knockwhinnie. Balwham told them that they were, as respected that man, in error, for he knew him very well. "He has been," said he, "in this house a' the afternoon, and is a friar belonging to the abbacy of Kilwinning, wha came in this morning frae the west, to meet some ither shavelings about their idols and their trumpery;" for the Maister Balwham was of the new light of the Reformation, especially when he had occasion to speak with the armed servants of that great pillar of the Protestant cause, Provost Maccalzean. "And I can tell you," added the host, "that maybe he's a tod worth the hunting; for he's nae other than Auchenbrae, the rampageous laird that used to keep the shire o' Renfrew in het water frae Yule to Yule, and is the even down adversary o' puir Knock whinnie, because he has done that afflicted man an injury that canna' be repaired." "Auchenbrae!" exclaimed one of the halberdiers: "that's the other honourable outlaw that we're to take up, in vindictam publicam." "Hech, man Johnnie," cried our worthy friend, Vintner Balwham, "but ye ha'e become learned in the law." "It's a duty incumbent," replied Johnnie," for a provost's halberdier to know something: I have ta'en the oath to be fidly in offeeshy." "Whar' did ye learn that fishy? Was't frae Maggy Scate o' Fisheraw, or Jenny Partans o' Prestonpans, or Peggy Cockles o' Musselburgh ?" "Nane o' your blethers, Maister Balwham! It would be mair to the purpose, since we haena' found a dishonester man than the host o' the Unicorn, yoursel', in the house, that ye should be mulcted a tass o' Lodovie." The Maister Balwham, glad to get rid of them on these conditions, summoned his handmaid, Dorothea, with the gar devine, to serve the solacium. CHAPTER XVII. "Give me a case to put my visage in, A visor for a visor; what care I What curious eye doth quote deformities? ROMEO AND JULIET. As soon as Knockwhinnie heard the Unicorn again quiet, he left his hiding-place and went back into the house, where having learned from Balwham what had taken place with the Provost's men, and that they had gone in quest of Auchenbrae, he expressed great impatience to follow them; but his host strongly dissuaded him from attempting it. "First learn," said he, "if the news be true that the French gallants and others were rehearsing here anent your auld adversary, as ye supposed him, the Count; for, until some remeid o' law is gotten upon it, ye may be brought to trouble, if ye happen to be ta'en up for the auld affair." Knock whinnie thought there was good reason in this; but he was wilful, and had so long led a life regardless of the wonted customs of society, that, while he admitted the justness of Balwham's observations, he only thought of evading his advice, and accordingly replied― "What you say deserves attention; but it too deeply concerns, not only my interests but my peace of mir d', to ascertain as quickly as possible the exact circumstances in which I am now placed in short, Balwham, I must claim your help in this matter. There were occasions in other times, when for mere pranks and ploys, you could find the means of maskings; can you not lend or borrow for me some of those old disguises that you were wont to supply in the plays before Lent? I remember that you had the garb of an old carle with a long beard is it still forthcoming?" "Ah! Knockwhinnie, yon days o' pranks and ploys are a' reformed awa'! Instead o maskings and mummings, we maun now tune our pipes to psalms and springs o' worship. But now that I think on't, the garb for Elijah in the Desert, which is the one ye speak o', is in the press; and if it's no eaten into |