The Lost Ring. A Romance of Scottish History in the days of King James and Andrew Melville

Front matter

I ■ ■ ■ ■ ft THE LOST RING A ROMANCE OF SCOTTISH HISTORY T. XELSON AND SONS LONDON, EDINBURGH J1ND NEW-YORK The Lost Ring A Romance of Scottish History in the Days of King James and Andrew Melville BY M. CLERKE MELVILLE THOMAS NELSON AND SONS London, Edinburgh, and New York 1S90 (gson tents. M I. A LAWYER PERPLEXED, ... ... ... ... ... 13 II. HOME. SWEET HOME! BUT WHICH? ... ... ... ... 31 III. A THURSDAY LECTURE, ... ... ... ... ... 52 IV. "GO!" ... ... ... ... ... ... ... 67 V. A STRANGE STORY, ... ... ... ... ... ... 80 VI. HOMEWARD, ... ... ... ... ... ... ... 98 VII. BALDOWT, ... ... ... ... ... ... ... 110 VIII. THE PRINCIPAL OF GLASGOW UNIVERSITY: THE BOY-KING, ... 121 IX. THE KIRK AND THE KING, ... ... ... ... ... 137 X. HEBREW UNDERSTOOD, ... ... ... ... ... 154 XI. GOD SAVE THE KING! ... ... ... ... ... 177 XII.

OLD FRIENDS AND OLD FOES, ... ... ... ... 207 XIII. THE DINNER AT EEZA'S, ... ... ... ... ... 251 XIV. FAREWELL TO GENEVA, ... ... ... ... ... 263 XV. LOOSE AND LIVING, ... ... ... ... ... ... 270 XVI. EPHRAIM, ... ... ... ... ... ... ... 289 XVII. CARRICK, ... ... ... ... ... ... ... 306 XVIII. CAPTAIN JESS, ... ... ... ... ... ... 321 XIX. FOUND ! ... ... ... ... ... ... ■•■ 336 XX. GRIM WIT, ... ... ... ... ... •■■ ■■• 353 XXI. TWO WHITE DOVES, ... ... ... ... ■■• ••■ 365 XXII. STEPHANISKION, ... ... ■■■ •■■ . •■■ Ss0 XXIII. TWO KINGS IN SCOTLAND, ... ... ... ■•• •■■ 397 XXIV. MORE SLEEVE-SHAKING, .. ... ... ■•• •■• PREFATORY, MY name rightly is Deborah. But both Mr. James Melville (my husband), and the uncle he loved so well, never called me anything but Melissa, and I am willing enough to keep the name in memory of my short youth.

I have a letter of Mr. Andrew Melville's in which he calls me " Melitissima Melissa." He never saw me nor I him, so it shows how my Mr. James must have written to him about me. My father was rector of this town, in which Mr. James Melville spent the last years of his life, and I was a wife for four years — 1610 to 1614. I am now just sixty years old, hale and hearty, thank God, and have been a widow eight-and-thirty years. My husband left me many papers and letters containing strange and entertaining things concerning his family and the Kirk and Kingdom of Scotland. When I came first to Scotland I found more papers among his folk at Baldowy and Anstruther.* And now when I have been for some * Baldowy, an estate near Montrose, in Forfarshire, the home of the Mel villes. Anstruther, the Fifeshire parish where James Melville was settled as a minister till his banishment across the Border.

Chapter I

A LAWYER PERPLEXED. AWEARY cry of thirst came from a miserable-looking man, thin and bent, not old but worn out. He had a wallet on his back, from which the stalks of various plants with fast-withering leaves projected in a limp, ragged fashion that corresponded with the man's appearance. Everything in his surroundings made his exclamation grotesque in the extreme — everythingexcept the weather. It was a hot afternoon in early spring; the dusty road was deserted, the very birds and insects were resting in the shade : a traveller who had still three miles to walk before reaching the city might reasonably complain of thirst. But the surroundings ! If the man had looked up, there were the glittering snows of the Mont Blanc range, sug gesting cold even in the palpitating heat ; if he had turned to the left and tottered among the bushes for less than five minutes, he might have plunged his weary head into cool blue waters at the point where the Rhone begins to rush out of the Lake of Leman.

But he only looked at the dusty road, and uttered a second time his melancholy groan in the language of a country far from Geneva. It was apparently a pure soliloquy — not an appeal for pity. There was nobody to hear him, unless it might be two or three children lying near the door of a cottage under the shade of a laurel bush, and they could not be expected to understand Scotch. The weary cry, however, was not so ill-timed or useless after all, for it promptly brought from the open door of the cottage a young woman with an eager, pitiful face, who said, " Sit doon then, goodman, and I'll bring you a drink." If the eyes of the tramp could have expressed any feel ing but weariness, he would have put into them now a look of astonishment at being so promptly answered in his own tongue ; as it \vTas, the attempt was not very success ful.

He let himself clown heavily upon the bench beside the cottage wall, and turned his face toward the speaker. Cold water was brought in a horn vessel, and the poor man drank it, but not with the eager relish that might have been looked for. The young woman, as she stands before him wraiting till he shall return the horn emptied, deserves a wTord of description. She was tall and well-formed, plump all over, with a face which should have been oval, but which the fulness of her ruddy cheeks made to seem round. Strength, health, a most attractive freshness and sweetness, appeared in her easy erectness, her swelling bust, her kindly mouth and beaming eyes. In Scotland she would have been taken for twenty at least, but in fact she had not long passed her sixteenth birthday. Her dress, studiously plain in shape, tight-fitting and short enough to display A LA WYER PERPLEXED. 15 her stout shoes, was of costly material ; and a valuable brooch of diamonds at her throat would have proclaimed, had not her whole person done so, that the cottage was not her home.

Abundant glossy black hair was smoothed back from her rather low and square forehead, and con fined by a blue silk snood, genuinely Scottish. The colour of her taffeta dress was a delicate pearl gray. More striking contrast there could not be than that between this girl, teeming with life and spirit, and the worn-out, wretched skeleton huddled together on the seat before her. Let me describe him also, if I can. He was not really old — probably under forty : his hair, thin and dank, was still intensely black ; and though his hands were bony, the flesh on them had none of the wrinkles which are the surest marks of years. But this impression which he gave you of not being aged only made his general appearance more pitiful. His cheek bones would have been high and prominent in the healthiest man ; in this man they im parted a startling ghastliness to the sunken cheeks under them.

The colour of these cheeks was a muddy yellow, to which no washing could ever restore freshness : the muddiness was, even to the girl's inexperienced eye, the evidence of an unhealthy condition ; a more experienced observer would have been at no loss to guess the cause. His loose, watery lips gave to his mouth an expression of hopeless weakness. The eyes were even more muddy than the rest of the face, and the rims of them were rheumy ; the eyelashes were gone : it seemed impossible for these eyes to alter their expression of fixed weariness. Yet he saw with them well enough— was in fact accustomed to make very close observations both of plants and other things. 'S When he had at length emptied the vessel he put it in the girl's hands. " Wad ye hae mair ? " she said, and there seemed a little effort required to make the Scotch pronunciation accurate.

" Nae mair water, thank ye," he answered, with an emphasis on the noun which indicated unmistakably that he did not agree with those who esteem water the best of beverages. " Ariston men hydor," said his ministering angel, as if determined to startle him by using any language other than that of the land they were in. " Whiles [now and then]," he said dryly, to indicate that he understood the Greek quotation if he did not appreciate it, — " whiles, and for some things ; hardly for drinking. What saith the Psalm ? ' Et le vin qui rejouit le cœur de l'homme.' " " There's nae wine in this cottage, but if you come hame wi' me — it's no far — you'll get some. Ye seem to need it. and you're far frae hame." So are you. ' " No ; I'm within a few the hame that I ever knew. sick woman in here for a quickly into the cottage. steps of my hame, and it's a' But I maun go back to the minute," she said, and turned The broad northern dialect certainly seemed less familiar than the French which she now used in kind, soothing tones, explaining to the woman, who lay in a clean white bed, that a wandering countryman was resting at the door whom she must take home with her to the Chalet Viola for refreshment.

The woman's illness was not serious, but the smoothing of her pillow and the attention to the simple wants of her room were very cheering to one whose children were too young to render such services. When the maiden, whom her patient thankfully addressed as Mademoiselle Viola, had placed milk within her reach and kissed her, promising to return next clay, she took up a simple straw bonnet and came out. The children had made shy approaches to the stranger, but without success. He seemed too deeply absorbed in thought, or perhaps he was too utterly listless, to notice them. " Come now," said Viola ; " our house is no far, and it's on your way to Geneva, if it's there you're gaun. You'll get ' le pain qui soustient le cœur de l'homme,' as well as the wine you spoke of," showing him that she also knew Lefevre's version of the Psalms.

He rose wearily, hitched the wallet on his shoulder, grasped his long staff with a sharp iron point, and followed her. The maiden had not to restrain her pace much, for once started the tramp walked like one who had walked much. For three or four hundred yards their way was the trodden road leading from Mont Saleve to Geneva ; then entering at a gate on the side farthest from the lake, a winding path led them up the hill to a handsome villa. surrounded by well-grown trees on three sides, and with its front open to the glorious panorama of snowy moun tains. The house seemed to be of but one story (though at the back there were really three), and was spread over the space that would have sufficed for half a street in the closely-built city. It had a broad, deep veranda, above which little narrow dormer windows appeared peeping out of the thatch, and under which were doors and windows leading to the large cool rooms.

The house was, unlike most of the chalets about it, built of stone, and the space under the veranda was paved with tesselated marble. Viola had been pondering as she came up the path into what part of the house she should take her guest — whether the library, which was nearest the door, or the kitchen, which perhaps (but she could not be quite sure) would best suit his condition. He did seem poor, but the material of his clothes was good though well worn, and the Greek phrase she had thoughtlessly quoted (and which was nearly all the Greek she knew) had been promptly understood. This inclined her toward the library. Besides, although she was really, and not merely in name, the mistress of her father's house, she stood in some awe of a certain big-boned Meg Dundas, who regarded the kitchen as her kingdom, and whose presence in the household would alone have accounted for Viola's familiarity with the dialect of Scot land.

The guest, however, solved the question for her by sinking suddenly, and as if he never would rise ao-ain, into a comfortable arm-chair standing outside the parlour window, and beginning to gasp in a very alarming fashion. The walk up to the house had brought on an attack of chronic asthma. The contortions of his wretched face and the long-drawn whistling gasps thoroughly frightened Viola ; she flew round the house for Meg's assistance. By the time they returned with hartshorn and wine, the spasms were beginning to subside, and the man eagerly laid hands on a goblet of wine, and swallowed its contents with an alacrity he had not shown toward the water an hour ago. " He'll be better or waur sune," said Meg. " That was the wine frae Spain that should hae been for your faither's supper, an' mair o't than he wad hae drunk before the morning," and she stood looking steadfastly at the stranger, watching for the effect of the potent draught.

It seemed to be entirely good : a faint colour came into his wasted cheeks, a little light into his dull eyes, and he appeared, not happy — that was out of the question with such a face — but somewhat less miserably weary. " The man has been sair wearied. He maun hae some thing to eat noo," said Meg, carrying away the empty goblet and going back to the kitchen with quick steps. The stranger's eyes followed her wistfully. Viola took a seat beside him, and asked anxiously if he felt better. " Ay ; that was guid wine. I'm used to thae turns. I shouldna hae come up your brae sae fast. I'll gang doon it better." " Not before you have eaten ; Meg will bring you food presently. Have ye walked far ? " 2 2 " Rather lang than far," said the strange man. " I was oot on the Saleve before the day broke gathering thae things," pointing to the wallet beside his chair, " and I had to be lang on my feet before I got wdiat I wanted.

But how is it that ye talk the language of Scotland if this braw house is your hame, as ye said ? " " My father is a Scot, though he came to this land lang ere I was born. He likes to speak to me in his hame tongue ; and Meg, that's coming wi' your supper, wad scorn to speak what she calls thae jabbering fremit [foreign] tongues." Soup and bread were set before the stranger, but he scarcely pretended to eat. When urged he said, " Yon wine was meat and drink thegither," and looked about for more. As it was not forthcoming, he asked Viola some question about her knowledge of Greek, and then drew attention to a gem she wore on the forefinger of her left hand. Viola had detected the eyes that seemed to express nothing but weariness turning to it curiously more than once. " The ministers in Geneva wadna let ye wear that at the kirk ; but maybe they're relaxin' somewhat noo that they havena Mr. John Calvin to keep them firm."

Whether he intended it or not, the man had made a hit, and roused the girl's interest. From her Italian mother Viola inherited, besides her dark hair and large eyes and rich complexion, a decided love of personal display, which was not easily restrained by the stringent sumptuary laws then prevailing in the republic of Geneva. She knew very well that if her dress was plainly made, it was of rich material and becoming colour ; and if it was fastened by a simple-looking brooch, she knew that the stones in it were sparkling and of great value. The ring she wore was her father's — a large amethyst of pure and rich purple, oblong in shape, large enough to reach to the finger-joint, and bearing a curious inscription. She had taken it from him in a gay mood the evening before. " I wadna wear it in the kirk," she said ; " but if I did they might pardon the jewel for the words it bears.

Can ye read that ?" and she drew the ring from her finger and held it near him. He took it into his hand (which was more than Viola had intended), and pretended to look at the engraving closely. " Ay," he said, " this is Hebrew. Can ye read it yoursel?" No ; but I ken the meaning." " It's a prayer, and a guid ane for any to offer for his freend — ' The Jehovah bless thee out of Zion.' The superstitious Jews wadna write the name Jehovah though; they just make a mark below the ' the.' " " You seem to know Hebrew, sir, though I would have thought herbs more in your wTay," said a quiet, clear, authoritative voice just at his back. It was that of the learned Dr. Henri Scrimger (as his name was spelt in Geneva), Professor of Civil Law in the Academy, Viola's father, and owner of the chalet called by his daughter's name.

He was not alone, but we may let his companion wait a little for an introduction in suitable detail, since he is one with whom these pages will be greatly concerned, being none other than Dr. Scrimger's relative, friend, and colleague in the professorship at the Academy (University) of Geneva, the celebrated Andrew Melville. They had come out the three miles from the city on horseback, but had left their horses at the stable near the gate, animals being seldom brought up the steep path to the house. Professor Henri Scrimger was every inch a lawyer and a gentleman — neat in his dress, calm, watchful, easy in speech, though not accustomed to speak much. If we had not known that his hair in early life was fair, we could not have told that now, for what remained of it was snow-white, and carefully trimmed.

The colour of his eyes I have heard compared with the hue of hedge violets in spring. His cheeks were still fresh and smooth, and but for his hair one would scarcely have guessed his age to be sixty-seven. He was no taller than his daughter, and that for a man was a moderate stature. When it is added that he had the uncle-finable but also unmistakable air of self possession which belongs to one who is wealthy and respected, the description of the learned doctor of law is as complete as it can be made without a pencil. Both he and the person who arrived with him had been struck by the sight of Viola's companion when the last turn of the path brought them into view, and had come noiselessly across the lawn after exchanging a significant look. In the case of so thorough a scoundrel as they after wards, to their cost, knew the herb-gatherer to be, it is impossible to say bow much of what followed is to be traced to accident and how much to cunning.

There could be no doubt, however, about the genuineness of his start on hearing the doctor's voice. For an instant terror took the place of habitual misery on his countenance, and the ring dropped from his fingers. The dropping of the ring was probably involuntary; all after that, it is to be feared, was the product of profound and practised deception. There was a minute, not more, in which Viola warmly embraced her father and saluted his companion, less effu sively, but still cordially ; and when she turned to the stranger and was beginning to explain his presence, he was stooping forward and poking his staff into the border of the grass where it joined the marble floor of the veranda. " The gem seemed to me to fall rather under your chair, sir," said the doctor. " I am sorry my words startled you, but I was myself surprised at your reading the contracted and unpointed Hebrew so readily."

He rose, lifting his wallet and tossing it on the grass the better to search on the pavement ; but the ring wras not found, and many years passed before Viola saw it again. After some time spent in searching and wondering, the stranger was seized with a violent fit of coughing, which it would have been hard indeed even for a lawyer to ascribe to artifice, so much did the poor skeleton seem to suffer ; and the courteous old gentleman said there could be no doubt the ring had rolled into some corner, where it would be easily found later — it was on the premises and at hand; they need not concern themselves further about it in the meantime. When the paroxysm of coughing had ceased, he beo-o-ed his odd guest to seat himself and continue the meal he had scarcely begun. But he protested that he felt no hunger, and would like to get to the city before the daylight was gone.

" Nay, nay ; we must not part from a man of learning and a tired wayfarer in such haste. If your circumstances will allow of it, we will be glad to give you a bed for the night. At any rate, sit down, man, and refresh yourself with wine, if you have no appetite for food." This proposal was, if Dr. Scrimger had but known it, one which did not require so much urgency as he used. The guest speedily resumed his seat and his look of patient, apathetic misery. " Margaret," cried the doctor through the now open window of the library (for he never allowed himself to call her Meg), "bring my wine, please, and three goblets." Meg would have liked to explain that the queer man had had his share already ; but when she came with the tray another catastrophe had nearly taken place in the smashing of the costly Venetian cups.

She mechanically set the tray on the table, staring hard at the man all the time, and exclaimed, " Is that you, Will Green ? " " Ay, Meg Dundas ; ye're far frae Carnoustie," he an swered ; and though three pairs of sharp eyes were watching his face intently, they detected no change in its ex pression of weary sadness. " Do you know our friend, then ? " asked the master of the house, at no pains to conceal his surprise. " Finely. A'body kenned Will Green frae the Tay to the South Esk. He was aye a gangrel [tramp], and no very canny, though skeely [skilful] in herbs. — But, eh, man ! ye werena aye sae bowed and withered lookin'. Ye maun hae starved yersel, or that wretch, Jean Fagan, that ye married, hasna been guid to ye." " Ay, she's been guid enough to me ; but all my herbs canna mend this asthma, though I wished I had had stramonium a wee while since.

But ye gied me a pretty guid substitute, and now his honour the councillor is sae guid as to offer me mair." Dr. Scrimger was pleased to be known as a member of the Council of Sixty, by whom the little republic was governed ; but he wTas not thrown oft" his guard by the artful flattery. He dismissed Meg, assuring her she would find another opportunity of renewing old acquaintance, and proceeded to use his legal skill in drawing from Green the information he wanted. Starting far off at the Firth of Tay, to which Meg's words had carried them, he found that the man had picked up his knowledge of the learned languages about St. Andrews and the Abbey of Arbroath, and that, while he could maintain a conversation in Latin, he was no scholar. His companion was quick enough to help the old lawyer in this part of his task.

They had soon arrived at the conviction that the man was one of those vagrant Scots to be found all over the Continent at that period — a man with plenty of natural gifts to have fitted him for a useful and honourable position in society, but of weak will, wanting in principle and self-respect, probably not very honest, certainly drunken. What his face had suggested at first was confirmed by so frequent emptying of his cup as made the host anxious to be rid of him — not, however, until he should have made the discovery he wished. That the valuable ring was not in Green's possession he was certain, for he had seen it fall from his hands, and was sure he had not picked it up — a little diligence would restore it when the man was gone. But there haunted the lawyer's brain a conviction that the face was not seen now for the first time, and during their half-hour's talk a process of searching was going on for some clue that would lead him to the circumstances of that former meeting.

He found none, and at length resolved to try what a direct question might do — the last resort of a lawyer, however straightforward at heart. " You seem to know me ; have }*ou ever met me before ? " " No, doctor, so far as my memory serves me. I have been some months in Geneva, and of course I could not but know the learned councillor by look and reputation ; but we never spoke together before this time." " Then it must have been that your face has struck me on the street. Where do you live ? " " In a rather humble lodging in the Quartier St. Gervais, not far from the house of Calvin, but nearer the wall, and a good step from your Academy." There was no hesitation about this answer, so that Dr. Scrimger gave up his point for the time, remarking that he would hope to look him up some clay, and that if his way led him past the Villa Viola again, he and his daughter, not to say Margaret Dundas, would be glad to see him.

As no offer was made to replenish his cup, Green rose slowly, took up his wallet from the grass in the most leis urely manner, thanked his host and hostess in a melancholy way, and went slowly down the path. If any one, however, had watched him, he would have been astonished at the quickening of his pace when he was a little way from the gate. It was less than an hour before the shambling figure had crossed the first of the six bridges which span the Rhone within the city of Geneva, and made his way through a net work of crooked, narrow streets to his own room. As soon as the door was safely shut, he plunged a shaking hand into the earth and roots that filled his wallet, transferred something from it, after a little time spent in feelingabout, to a pocket within his leather jerkin, and flung the wallet into a corner.

His wife Jean, who had the appearance of a highly respectable woman — strong, red-cheeked, tidy in her dress, but with small, cunning eyes — offered him a dram of nearly raw spirits, without a word said, and meekly sat down, waiting what it might please her lord and master to say. " How's the moon, Jean ? " " Ye ken yersel ye had it to start wi' this morning. What's o't winna be seen till morning." " I ken, woman ; but I'm swithering [hesitating]. We maun be oot o' this godly republic before the sun's up again ; but I maun sleep first." " Ye hae got it, then ? " asked Jean with a twinkle of her eye. " Ay ; and withoot ony need for stealing. The lass was in the house ye telled me aboot, and at the time ye said she wad be there. She cam' oot in a hurry when I gied a great groan in passing, an' syne took me up to the house for refreshment.

She's a grand, kindly lass ; but I wadna like to ano-er her. Meg Dundas brought me wine — eh, what it is to be rich ! — but she didna ken me, for I had had an ill turn, and was gieing sair back-drauchts" (gasps). The highly sympathetic wife laughed heartily at this point of her husband's story. " Think o' Meg, the jade, serving Will Green wi' rich wine an' no kennin' ! But it's a grand thing to hae the true religion ! " and she indulged in another wicked chuckle, which seemed to afford her deep satisfaction. Meg's faithfulness to the light of the evangel must somehow have condemned Jean in her own conscience when the Reformation was spreadingin Fife fifteen years ago, just as Noah by his practical faith con demned the world ; and there is no wound that rankles so long. Jean's conscience by this time was thoroughly seared, but her resentment at her old neighbour for choosing the path of light and self-denial, while she had chosen that of self-indulgence and darkness, was as strong as ever.

" The ring was on the lass's finger, an' when I said she daurna wear that at the kirk, she held it to me, and said the elders might excuse the gem for the words on't. I took it in my hand, and had just telled her the meaning (for I kenned sac much Hebrew), when the auld carle, standin' close at my back, said, 'Ye ken Hebrew, then.' I con fess to you, Jean, the voice gied me an unco start. What if he had kenned me, an' minded oor last meetin' ! It wad hae been a' ower wi' us — wi' me, at least, being in the hands o' the chief lawyer. I drapt the ring, — and it's wonderful what luck does when a man's patient. That's hoo I said I got it without trouble or thieving. My wallet was lying close to the chair I was on, an' I saw where the ring fell. A body canna be said to steal a thing, surely, if first it's put in his hand and syne tumbles into his bag."