Outlaws -- Fiction; Rob Roy, 1671-1734 -- Fiction; Scotland -- History -- 1689-1745 -- Fiction
"I had hardly joined our English friends, when I became sensible that our
cause was lost. Our numbers diminished instead of increasing, nor were we
joined by any except of our own persuasion. The Tories of the High Church
remained in general undecided, and at length we were cooped up by a
superior force in the little town of Preston. We defended ourselves
resolutely for one day. On the next, the hearts of our leaders failed,
and they resolved to surrender at discretion. To yield myself up on such
terms, were to have laid my head on the block. About twenty or thirty
gentlemen were of my mind: we mounted our horses, and placed my daughter,
who insisted on sharing my fate, in the centre of our little party. My
companions, struck with her courage and filial piety, declared that they
would die rather than leave her behind. We rode in a body down a street
called Fishergate, which leads to a marshy ground or meadow, extending to
the river Ribble, through which one of our party promised to show us a
good ford. This marsh had not been strongly invested by the enemy, so
that we had only an affair with a patrol of Honeywood's dragoons, whom we
dispersed and cut to pieces. We crossed the river, gained the high road
to Liverpool, and then dispersed to seek several places of concealment
and safety. My fortune led me to Wales, where there are many gentlemen of
my religious and political opinions. I could not, however, find a safe
opportunity of escaping by sea, and found myself obliged again to draw
towards the North. A well-tried friend has appointed to meet me in this
neighbourhood, and guide me to a seaport on the Solway, where a sloop is
prepared to carry me from my native country for ever. As Osbaldistone
Hall was for the present uninhabited, and under the charge of old
Syddall, who had been our confidant on former occasions, we drew to it as
to a place of known and secure refuge. I resumed a dress which had been
used with good effect to scare the superstitious rustics, or domestics,
who chanced at any time to see me; and we expected from time to time to
hear by Syddall of the arrival of our friendly guide, when your sudden
coming hither, and occupying this apartment, laid us under the necessity
of submitting to your mercy."
Thus ended Sir Fredericks story, whose tale sounded to me like one told
in a vision; and I could hardly bring myself to believe that I saw his
daughter's form once more before me in flesh and blood, though with
diminished beauty and sunk spirits. The buoyant vivacity with which she
had resisted every touch of adversity, had now assumed the air of
composed and submissive, but dauntless resolution and constancy. Her
father, though aware and jealous of the effect of her praises on my mind,
could not forbear expatiating upon them.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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