Love stories; Scotland -- History -- 18th century -- Fiction
"Surely, Jock Farquharson," I protested with warmth, "you forget your
place when you, an outlaw by decree, the doer, by admission, of many
wrongs, presume to make terms with a King's officer, even in his
private capacity."
"Strong words, my young friend," and he laughed in an airy tone that
stung me; "strong words don't belong to youth, but to the years when
the blood grows sour. You say outlaw! Why, yes and no; I am a loyal
subject of the King--the King over the water! You say I'm a cateran!
Well, I do no more than tax my enemies for what I need, and I need
little, holding as I do by the simple life, especially as no other is
open to me."
"This," I said stiffly, "is neither the rendezvous nor the time for
high-flown sentiments, especially if they have no sincerity."
"That," he added, "would be a windy business, and here the die is far
too serious to be played with, anyhow for me. Let us get down to the
humanities, which are the final element in solving a problem or leaving
it unsolved. There need be no personal bitterness between us; merely
we are in antagonism in politics and war, for the two count together
just now."
"You are unusually modest to eliminate yourself like that," I cut in,
thinking of the Black Colonel's record, but only striking his Highland
pride.
"If it so please me," he said almost angrily, "I can afford to be
modest, for I have done things. I come of good blood; I bear a name
which is old among the hills; I have carved my way to a colonelcy under
the Stuart flag, where promotion, like kissing, has often gone by
favour, yet sometimes by merit. The Prince himself, when he gave me my
rank, called me the Black Colonel in compliment to my beard, which
nobody has ever singed. The Black Colonel I remained when the Stuart
army melted in the bloody furrows of Culloden, and in truth I have, and
need not deny it, left my name in many quarters. I took it with me
when I sought the safe retreat of my own corner of the Highlands, among
friends, and I submit it with pride to you, Captain Ian Gordon."
He was aflame between wrath and egotism, and I was afraid the contagion
might catch me, which was the least desirable thing, because there lies
the road to a losing cause. But, next moment, he laughed and said,
"No, no; temper beseems neither high nor low, being kitchen work. You
are sensible enough, Captain Gordon, to let a full man have his talk,
and I have not finished yet." He thought for a moment, as if he
expected me to say something, but I only got up from my somewhat hard
seat, as if preparing to go.
"Not yet," he said; "stay a little, because, since you are here, it
would be a pity if anything remained unclear between us. I gather that
you see no course for it but open war, that you refuse the road of
solution which my proposal about the Forbes estate opens out. Might I
ask why you are so unsympathetic to that idea, which would serve every
interest?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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