The Silver Glen

I have given you so much of woe and weeping that I begin to fear you must be weary of so dismal a tale, and I am quite glad to tell you now of a little lull in the tempest, and of a gleam of sunshine that shot through the clouds. It was a very little thing that caused it truly; nothing more important than a letter which arrived from Sir John at last, but it brought the colour back to my lady’s cheek, and the light to her eyes for a time.

The whole household was gladdened by the news of his safety, for he was at Paris awaiting the bidding of the King to attend him at Avignon, in good health and spirits; and, though chagrined at the sudden ending of all their endeavours, was hopeful that at some future time their efforts should be crowned with success.

I have here a small fragment of the journal which he kept on his voyage from Scotland, of which I will give you the first extract, and the last.

“Journal from the 2nd Feb., 1716.

Montrose.

2nd “Att night received my orders for going to france with dispatches to the Queen, the Regent, and E. Bolingbroke from the King, and to the last also from the D. of Mar.

9th “By 11 at night I gott to St. Germains. the Queen was not well and laid to sleep. I delivered my letters and other commissions to the Queen, who, about 12 o’clock, ordered me to goe immediately to Paris and look after E. Bolingbroke.”

Of his further movements at that particular time no record has been kept. The letter to his wife was like himself, frank and cheerful, hopeful and kind; with regrets for the sorrows and misfortunes of others, but no word of grudging or bitterness about his own lost labours. Even the servants imbibed courage from hearing of it, and the kind neighbours who asked discreet questions of my lady scarce needed a reply after looking at her face.

To add to our comfort, Mr. Charles Erskine, who was again expected at Alva, being prevented coming for some days, wrote to my lady telling her of news he had got from the north of those whom my lady calls in her letters to her husband his “fellow-travellers.” These were my Lord Tinworth, the Duke of Berwick’s son, with his uncle, Colonel Bulkeley, my Lord Talbot and my Lord Edward Drummond; and as my lady had been exceedingly anxious on the score of the first-named, whom Sir John had praised much as a fine, modest, and engaging youth, we were relieved, though somewhat disturbed, to learn what was become of him. A company of gentlemen, including the above, and amongst whom were the Marquis of Tullibardine, Earls of Marischall, Southesk and Linlithgow, Viscounts Kilsyth, Kingston and Dundee, Lords Pitsligo, Rollo and Burleigh, having gone to Peterhead in hopes of finding a ship, were obliged to return owing to the presence of a man-of-war near at hand. They had then made their way westward towards the other coast, where ships were expected to take them off to France, and at present, it was supposed, were in hiding among the mountains. “Among the names,” wrote Mr. Erskine, “of the junior officers who accompanied them I find that of your late guest, for whom you were enquiring, Mr. Anthony Fleming.”

So the worst part of our anxiety was passed. Sir John and my dear Mr. Fleming lived; and although months must pass before we could think of seeing them, or perhaps hearing aught of them, it was no longer agony to name them in our prayers, and ask God to protect them from further danger.

My lady answered the welcome letter in a much more cheerful strain than before.