friendships and comforts to the welfare of others. Repair instantly to Glasgow. Francis. Such was my intention; but if Rashleigh has really formed the scheme of plundering his benefactor, and disturbing the state, what prospect is there that I can find means of frustrating a plan so deeply laid ? Diana. Stay!-Yes, I will insist upon it. Do not leave this room till I return. [Exit. Francis. She has then a confederate, a friendperhaps a lover! Everything confirms it-the light from these windows which I have seen at unusual times-the footsteps which I have traced in the morning's dew, from the private entrance to the apartment beneath this library-the report, too, of apparitions-a thousand circumstances tend to confirm my suspicions. But she comes. Re-enter DIANA, with a packet. Diana. Frank, I trust you with this proof of my friendship, because I have the most perfect confidence in your honour. If I understand the nature of this business rightly, the funds in Rashleigh's possession must be recovered by a certain day; take this packet, but do not open it till all other means fail. Ten days before the bills are due, you are at liberty to break the seal. Francis. It has no superscription. Diana. If you are compelled to open it, you will find directions enclosed. Francis. And now, Diana, after the mysterious but kind interest you have shown to my worldly cares, relieve my heart, by explaining Diana. I can explain nothing. Oh, Frank! we are row to part, perhaps never to meet more; do not, then, make my mysterious miseries embitter the last moments we may pass together. In the world, away from me, you may find a being less encumbered by unhappy appearances, less influenced by evil fortunes, and evil times. Francis. Never, never! the world can afford me nothing to repay the loss of her I must leave behind Wylie. Maister Owen, the head clerk and junior partner, has been at our house wi' the news, an' begging for time to tak' up the bills. Bailie. Owen! I remember-he's a man o' figures -a man o' calculation; an' if he talks o' ruin, by my soul, it's no far aff! But what for did he no ca' upon Nicol Jarvie? I'm a merchant an' a magistrate, as weel as Mac Vittie; but he thinks nae mair o' me, I reckon, than o' an auld Scotch pedlar. Mattie, Mattie, Mattie ! Bailie. My conscience! I havena had sican a shock since my worthy faither, the Deacon, (peace be wi' him) left me to fecht my way alane in this wicked warld. But what says Mac Vittie-will he grant the time? Wylie. No a day, Mr. Jarvie-no an hour. Things look sae bad, I fear my employers mean to resort to the severest measures. I heard them talk o' arresting Maister Owen; so you had best look to yoursel'. Enter MATTIE with the ledger. Bailie. Look to mysel'! let me look at the ledger first (putting on his spectacles, and opening it eagerly.) L-M-N-O-Os-Osbal-as I'm a Bailie, the balance maun be enormous-but I havena the heart to run it up noo (returning the ledger to Mattie). How muckle is Mac Vittie in wi' him, Saunders? Wylie. I canna justly say, Bailie; but some hundreds. Bailie. Hundreds! only hundreds! Damn their supple snouts! And would they oppress a fa'ing man for the sake o' hundreds-they that hae made thoosands by him? Your maisters, Saunders Wylie, bae taen mony a gude fat job frae between my teeth; but I'll snap them this turn-I'll snap them this turn! Wylie. I wish you could, Bailie-I wish you could Ah! I made a sair change when I left you to serve twa sic infernal Bailie. Whist! Saunders, whist! while you eat their bread, dinna abuse the dam'd scoundrels ahint their backs. Wylie. Ye've a kind heart, Mr. Jarvie, and an honest ane too. Bailie. My conscience! so had my worthy faither the Deacon, Saunders-rest and bless him! Wylie. Wad ye be pleased to consult on this business wi' our partners, sir? Bailie. No; I'll see them baith damn'd first-My conscience! that is, a man that meddles wi' pitch is sure to be defiled I'd sooner haud a parley wi' Auld Clootie! Na, na; Nichol Jarvie has a way o' his ain to manage this matter. Gang your ways, Mattic, wi' that huge memorial o' misfortunes, and bring my walking gear, and the lantern. [Exit Mattie As for you, Saunders, speed ye hame again, an' no a word that ye hae seen me. Enter MATTIE, decked out for walking-her apron pinned up, &c., and bearing the Bailie's tartan cloak, hat, lantern, &c. Mattie. I've brought your gear, sir; but, gude save us! whar wad ye be ganging to, at such a time o' night? (She helps him on with his dress.) Bailie. Ye'll sune ken that, Mattie, for ye maun e'en tramp alang wi' me. I wadna liko to be breaking my shins in the dark just now; for, truth to speak, I had never mair occasion to stand firm on my legs, baith at hame and abroad. Now, gi'e us the beaver, lassie. Mattie. Weel! to think o' putting on claithes when ye suld be taking 'em aff, an' scampering abroad, when ye suld be ganging to your bed! Bailie. Time and tide wait for nae man, Mattie. Mattie. But whar are ye ganging to, Bailie? Bailie. To mony places that I'd as lie bide awa frae. Mattie. Now wrap this 'kerchief about your thrapple. (Ties a handkerchief round his neck.) Bailie. Ye're a kind-hearted lassie, Mattie. Bailie. (Aside.) I wonder what she's gaun to dae wi' my mou'. (Stroking his chin.) Mattie. (Giving him a flask.) Ye maun needs hae a drap o' the cordial your faither, the Deacon, was sae fond o';-he aye liked to sip the cordial. Bailie. Rest and bless him! sae he did; and sae do I too, Mattie. (Drinks.) You're a gude-tempered soul, Mattie, and a bonnie lass too. Ye're come o' gude kith and kin, Mattie-the Laird o' Limmerfield's cousin-only seven times removed. (Mattis is taking away the bottle.) Stay, you may bring the bottle wi' you, Mattie, and tuck yoursel' under my arm-there's nae disgrace in a Bailie walking hand in arm wi' ane o' gentle bluid-Sae, come your ways, Mattie. Osbaldistone and Co.-Stop! My conscience! [Exeunt. SCENE IV.—The Old Bridge of Glasgow-the Gate of the Tolbooth. Enter FRANCIS OSBALDISTONE and ANDREW FAIRSERVICE. Andrew. (Drunk.) Weel, sir, thanks to the gude guidance o' Andrew, here ye are in Glasgow, spite o' the bogles and bad ways. Francis. Was it the bogles or the brandy that made you ride at such an infernal pace? You are half drunk, you scoundrel-but get you gone-see the horses taken care of, and order something for my supper; while it's preparing I shall walk here upon the bridge. CAMPBELL, muffled in a cloak, appears at the back, but seeing ANDREW, retires. Andrew. A walk by moonlight after a lang ride, is but cauld comfort for aching banes; but your honour kens best. (Aside.) He's crack-brained, and cockle-headed, wi' his poetry nonsense; he'd sooner by half chatter to Miss Vernon, than hear a word o' sense from a sober steady chield like mysel' [Exit Francis. 'Tis now too late to learn tidings of poor Owen, or inquire the residence of my father's agents. Bitter reflection! All this I might have prevented by a trifling sacrifice of the foolish pride and indolence which recoiled from sharing the labours of his honourable profession. Enter ROB ROY. Rob. Mr. Osbaldistone, you are in danger. Rob. Follow me, and you shall know. Francis. I must first know your name and pu pose. Rob. I am a man, and m purpose is friendly. Rob. It will serve for him who has no other to give. He that is without a name, without friend, without coin, and without a country, is at least a man; and he that bas all these, is no more. Follow me, or remain without the information which I wish to afford you. Francis. Can you not give it me here? Rob. No, you must receive it from your own eyes, not from my mouth. What is it you fear? Francis. I fear nothing-walk on, I attend you. Rob. Yet, if you knew who was by your side, you might feel a tremor. Francis. (Asie.) The spirit of Rashleigh seems to hover round me-yet 'tis neither his form nor voice. being found with him whose very name, whispered Rob. Would you not fear the consequence of in this lonely street, would make the stones themselves rise up to apprehend him? On whose head the men of Glasgow would build their fortune, as on a found treasure!-the sound of whose down fall were as welcome at the Cross of Edinburgh, as the news of a battle fought and won! Francis. Who are you then, whose name should create such terror? Rob. No enemy of yours, since I am conveying and ident fied, iron to the heels, and hemp to the you to a place where, if I myself were recognised throat, would be my brief dooming. Francis. You have said either too much or too little, to induce me to confide in you. (Rob Roy makes a step towards him; he draws back and lays his hand on his sword.) Rob. What! on an unarmed man, and your friend? Francis. I am yet ignorant if you are either one or the other. Rob. Well, I respect him whose hand can keep his head. I love a free young blood, that knows taking you to see one whom you will be right glad no protection but the cross of the sword! I am to see, and from whose lips you will learn the secret of the danger in which you stand. Come on! (Rob Roy knocks cautiously at the Tolbooth door.) Dougal. (Speaks within.) Fat's tat? Rob. (Without.) Gregarach! (he door is flung open-Rob Rob beckons, and goes in-Francis following cautiously. SCENE V.-Hall in the Tolbooth of Glasgow. DOUGAL enters joyfully, bringing on ROB ROY and FRANCIS OSBALDISTONE-he has a shock head of red hair, and an extraordinary appearance: a huge bundle of keys at his belt, and a lamp in his hand. Rob. Dougal, you have not forgotten me? gang? fat will she do for you? Oigh, it's lang sin; instead of instant assistance, they demanded instant she wudna saa't ye. security; and as I am liable, being a small partner in our house, they made oath that I meditated departing this realm, and had recourse to a summary process of arrest and imprisonment, which it seems the law here allows, and-here I am. Oh, dear! Francis. She! she seen him? It is then a female to whom I am conducted, or is it merely the dialect of his country, in which that animal expresses himself? (As he sys this apart, Rob Roy speaks to Dougal, and points to him.) Dougal. To be sure she wull, wi' aw her heart, wi aw her soul! But fat wull cum o' ye, if the Bailies should cum, or the captains should wakens? Rob. Fear nothing, Dougal; your hands shall never draw a bolt upon me. Dougal. Och, te'il a pit, te'il a pit! She would hack em baith aff at te elbuck first, Rob. Then dispatch. Dougal. Wi' aw my heart, wi' aw my soul. (He trims his lamp, and beckons Fran is, who pas es over, but perceiving Rob Roy, does not follow, pauses.) Francis. Do you not go with us? Francis. Why did you not apply to our other correspondent, Mr. Nicol Jarvie ? Owen. What! the cross-grained crabstick in the Salt-market? 'Twould have been of no use. You might as well ask a broker to give up his per centage, as expect a favour from him without the per contra. O, Ar. Frank, this is all your doing! But I beg pardon for saying so to you in your distress. Enter ROB ROY aud DOUGAL, hastily. Dougal. Running about.) Och hone a rie-Och hone a rie! what'll she do now? It's my Lord Provost, an' Bailies, an' Town Guard! Hide yoursel' abint to bed. (To Rob Roy.) Fuiths, faiths, man, ye maun gang, for te captain has opened the wicket Rob. Lend me your pistols! -yet it's no matter, I can do without them-whatever you see take no Droch-heed-do not mix your hand in another man's quarrel. (To Francis.) I must manage as I can. (Seats himself on the table.) Rob. It is unnecessary; my company might be inconvenient. I had better remain, and secure our retreat. Lose no time. [Exit. (Francis seems at a loss what to do-Dougal impatient.) Dougal. Fuith! fuith! come awa, man. coil ortsa! [Exeunt. SCENE VI.-A Cell in the Tobooth. A pallet bed, Francis. I cannot suppose he means to betray me yet 'tis strange Dougal. (Having looked towards the bed.) She's sleepin'. Francis. She! who? Dougal. Shentleman's to spoken wi' her. (Shaking Owen.) Owen. Ey, what? Oh, dear! (Fops his head, adorned with a r d nightcap, from beneath the clothes.) Francis. Owen! (Pausing in surprise.) Owen. I'll tell you what, Mr. Dugwell, or Hugwell, or whatever your name may be, if my natural rest is to be broken in upon in this manner, the sum total of the amount is this, I'll complain to the Lord Mayor. Dougal. Ugh! cha neil Sassenach. Francis. Owen! [Exit. Owen. Ey! Oh, dear! have they caught you too? then our last hope fails, and the account is closed. Francis. Do not be so much alarmed; all may not be so bad as you expect. Owen. (Rises and advances.) Oh, Mr. Frank, we are gone! Osbaldistone and Co., Crane Alley, London, is no longer a firm! I think nothing of myself-I am a mere cypher; but you that were your father's sum-total, as I may say, his omnium that might have been the first man in the house in the first city-to be shut up in a nasty Scotch jail-a Holbooth, I think they call it-Oh, dear! [Exit Dougal. Enter MATTIE, followed by JARVIE. Bailie. (Looking back.) I'll ca' when I want ye, Stanchells. Dougal shall mak a' fast, or I'll mak him fast, the scoondrel! A bonnie thing, and beseeming, that I should be kept at the door half an hoor, knocking as hard to get into jail, as ony body else would be to get oot o'nt. Hoo's this? (Seeing Rob Roy and Francis.) Strangers in the Tolbooth after lock-up hoors! Keep the door lockit, you Dougal creature-I'll sune talk to these gentlemen; but I maun first hae a crack wi' an auld acquaintance. Ah! Mr. Owen, how's a' wi' ye, Mr. Owen? Owen. Pretty well in body, Mr. Jarvie, I thank you, but sore afflicted in spirit. Bailie. Ay, ay, w'ere a' subject to downfa's, Mr. Owen, as my worthy faither, the Deacon-rest and bless him!-used to say. "Nick, said he (ye maun ken his name was Nicol, as weel as mine, so the folks in their daffin used to ca' us Young Nick and Auld Nick.) Young Nick," said he, "never put cot your arm ony farther than you can draw it easily back again." Owen. You need not have called these things to my memory in such a situation, Mr. Nicol Jarvie. · Bailie. What! do you think I cam oot at sic time o' neght, to tell a fa'ing man of his backslidings? My conscience! No, no, that's no Bailie Jarvie's way, nor his worthy faither's, the Deacon-rest and bless him!-afore him. I sune discovered what lodgings your freends had provided you, Mr. Owen first-but gi'e us your list, mon, and let us see hoo things stand between us, while I rest my shanks. Mattie, haud the lantern. (Taking papers from Owen, and sitting at the corner of the bed.) DOUGAL enters cautiously at the door-beckons ROB ROY, and expresses anxiety to get him off. Bailie. Eh? what's that ye're about, sir? Dougal. Oich! dit ye mak a spok for me? Rob. Say nothing. (In a low tone, approaching the door.) Francis. I am no prisoner, my good friend, though I can scarcely account for my being in such a place. at such a time. Owen. No prisoner! Heaven be praised! But what news this will be upon 'Change! Francis. Cease these lamentations, and let me know the cause of your being here. Owen. It's soon told, Mr. Frank. When I dis Bailie. Eh? look to the door there, you Dougal closed my business to Messrs. MacVittie and MacFin, creature-let me hear you lock it, and keep watch on the ootside. (Dougal retires and locks the door, but instantly opens it again, and peeps on, expressing to Rob Roy that his retreat is open. Rob Roy observing ths, swaggers round the stage, aud then seats himself on the table.) That's a deevilish queer chiel', he seems unco near his ain fireside. Sit still, sir, and I'll talk to you by and bye. Owen. There, sir, you'll find the balance in the wrong column-for us-but you'll please to consider Bailie. There's nae time to consider, Mr. Owenit's plain you owe me siller; but I canna, for the saulo' me, see how you'll clear it aff by snoring here in the Tolbooth. Now, sir, if you'll promise no to flee the country, you shall be at liberty in the morning. man should live by-weel, sir, what do you say to Francis, My dislike to the commercial profession, Rob. It's manfully spoken, and I honour the lad for his contempt of weavers and spinners, and all such mechanical persons. (Owen goes to bed again.) I'm a Bailie. Weavers and spinners, indeed! weaver and spinner, and wha's better? Will a' your ancestry tell whar Rashleigh is, or a' your deep oaths and drawn dirks procure Mr. Frank five thousand pounds to answer the bills which fa' due in ten days. Francis. Ten days! is the time so near? I may then Owen. O, sir! O, Mr. Jarvie! Bailie. I'm a carefu' mon as ony in the Saut-have recourse-(draws out the letter, opens it, and an market, and I'm a prudent mon, as my worthy inclosure falls from the envelope-the Bailie catches faither the Deacon, good soul! was before me; but it up.) rather than that doublefaced dog, MacVittie, shall Bailie. My conscience! (reads.) for "Rob Roy." keep an honest, civil gentleman by the heels, Ise Francis. Rob Roy! (Rob Roy instantly snatches the be your bail mysel'. (Owen goes up to him in rap-letter.) tures, but fails in his attempt to speak.) There, you've Bailie. Weel, here's a wind blawn a letter to its said eneugh. But, in the name o' misrule how got reght owner; but, as I am a Bailie, there were ten ye companions? Gie me the light, Mattie. (He thoosand chances to one against its coming to catches it from her, and holding it towards Rob Roy, hand. (going up.) who is seated camly on the table and whistles in his face-starts back.) Ey! my conscience! it's impossible! and yet I'm clean bambaized! Why, you robber you cateran-you cheat-the-gallow's rogue! Owen. Bless me! it's my poor friend, Mr. Camp- your heed? Rob. Umph! why, fairly weighed, and Dutch weight, one Provost, four Bailies, a Town-clerk, and sax Deacons. Bailie. Sax Deacons! Was there ever sic a born deevil? But tell owre your sins, sir, for if I but say the word Rob. True, Bailie, but you never will say that word. Bailie. And what for no, sir? What for no? Rob. For three sufficient reasons, Bailie Jarvie first for auld langsyne. Bailie. (Softening.) Ay, Rab! (Shakes his hand.) Rob. And third and lastly, Bailie Nicol Jarvie- Rob. Because, if I saw any sign of your betraying me, I'd plaister that wall with your brains, ere the hand of man could rescue you. (Owen in great consternation runs to the bed.) Bailie. My conscience! Weel, weel, Rab! it would be quite as unpleasant for me to hae my head knocked aboot, as it would be discreditable to string up a kinsman in an hempen cravat but if it hadna been yoursel', Rab, I'd hae gripped the best mon in the Highlands. Rob. You'd have tried, Bailie Jarvie,-you'd have tried, Bailie. Bailic. Ay, "I wad hae trid, Bailie" but wha the deevil's this? (to Francis.) Anither honest mon, I reckon. Owen. This, good sir, is Mr. Francis Osbaldistone. Bailie. O, I've heard o' this spark-run away frae his father, in pure dislike to the labour an honest Francis. You are too hasty, sir-I was not, in this instance, desirous of your interference. Rob. Make yourself easy, sir, Dina Vernon has more friends than you are aware of. (Reads to himself.) Francis. (Aside.) Is it possible? Is the fate of a being so amiable, involved in that of a man of such desperate fortunes and character? Rob. (After reading.) So, Rashleigh has sent these papers to the Highlands. It's a hazardous game she has given me to play, but I'll not baulk her. Mr. Osbaldistone, you must visit me in the glens; and consin, if you dare venture to shew him the way Bailie. Catch me! Rob. And eat a leg of red-deer venison with me Bailie. (Coolly.) No, thank ye, Rab. Rob. I'll pay you the two hundred pounds I owe you; and you can leave Mr. Owen the while, to do the best he can in Glasgow. Bailie. Say nae mair, Rab-say nae mair. I'll gang wi' you; but you maun guarantee me safe hame again to the Sautmarket. Lob. There's my thumb, I'll ne'er beguile you. (They shake hands.) But I must be going. The air of the Glasgow Tolbooth is not over wholesome for a Highlander's constitution. Bailie. Noe, to think that I should be aiding and abetting an escape free justice. It'll be a disgrace to me and mine, and the memory o' my worthy faither the deacon-rest and bless him! for ever. Rob. Hout, tout, mar! when the dirt's dry it will rub out again. Your faither could look over a friend's faults, and why not your faither's son. Bailie. So he could, Robin, so he could; he was a gude mon, the deacon. Ye mind him, Rab, dinna ye? Rob. Troth, do I-he was a weaver and wrought my first pair of hose. Bailie. Tak care his son doesna weave your last cravat. Ye've a lang craig for a gibbet, Rab. But whar's that Dougal creature? Rob. If he is the lad I think him, he has not waited your thanks for his share of this night's work. Bailie. What, gane! and left me and mattie locked Bailie. He's a friend o' mine. (groans) My conscience! an' a bonny friend he is. Rob. Fare-ye-weel! Be early with me at Aberfoil. "Now, open your gates, and let me go free, I darena stay longer in bonny Dundee." [Exit. Bailie, So that Dougal creature was an agent o' Rab's! I shouldna wonder if he has one in ilka jail in Scotland. (whistling without.) Do ye hear thee Hieland deevil whistling, without ony regard for Sunday or Saturday. I fancy they think themsel's on the tap o' Ben Lomond already. Weel, I hae done things this blessed neght that my worthy faither the deacon, rest and bless him! wadna have believe-but ther's balm in Gilead. (going to the bedside.) Mr. Owen, I hope to see you at breakfast in the morning. (Owen snores.) Eh! why the mon's fast. Francis. And the sooner we depart, and follow his example, sir, the better, for it must be near midnight. Bailie. Midnight! Weel, Mattie shall light ye hame. (Francis takes Mattie under his arm-Jarvie gently disengages her from him.) Nane o' your Lunnon tricks here, my mon! Mattie's a decent lassie, and come o' gude kith and kin-the laird o' Lim mer field's cousin-only seven times removed. Noo that I look at you again, my fine spark, I'se ye hame mysel'. (St. Mungo's clock strikes twelve. Enter TWO GAOLERS for chorus. FINALE. Francis. Hark! hark! now from St. Mungo's tower Owen &. we your must no longer stay, (come, come, For soon will peep the morning light. Now let us { pray make haste go, go, Farewell at once, at once good night. [away Retiring up, as drop descends.-Owen gets into bed. Jobson. He is. Rash. If my cousin, Mr. Francis Osbaldistone, follows him to Glasgow, instantly enforce the warrant, of which you have a duplicate. Jobson. It shall be done, you may depend on it, sir. Rash. 'Tis of importance to keep him out of the way-that man is a basilisk in my sight, and has been an insurmountable barrier to my dearest hopes. Now, sir, a word-if you breathe a syllable to any human being of the business which the government has entrusted to my direction, before the blow is struck which must counteract the intended rising in the Highlands, you share the destiny of the rankest rebel among them. As to the papers which I forwarded to Macgregor, ere long they shall be again in my possession, and himself in your custody. Make yourself ready, and be well armed. Leave me. (Exit JOBSON.) Macgregor is by this time in the Highlands. He still believes me faithful to the cause I have hitherto so ardently encouraged and assisted; and those papers, which I now regret having committed to Bome! his care, will at least serve to aid the delusion. Cursed infatuation!-yet I repine not, for I have the power to check the gaze of cunning, probe all hearts, and watch the varying cheek; linked with Bome! success, it moulds each other's weakness to my will-such it hath been, and such it shall be now! Rejected by her I love, scorned by him I would have served-they shall at least find the false friend, and the renegade knows how to resent those insults. Ah! (starts, and instantly recovers himself.) Enter FRANCIS OSBALDISTONE. Hark! hark! fram Mister Owen's nose, Bome! Bome! (wakes.) Bless me! ev'ry way I am undone; Francis. You are well met, sir. Rash. 1 am glad to hear it. (aside.) He's earlier than I expected-but Jobson is prepared. Francis. I was about to take a long and doubt ful journey in quest of you. Rash. You know little of him you sought, then. I'm easily found by friends, and still more easily by my foes-in which am I to class Mr. Francis Osbaldistone? Francis. In that of your foes, sir-your mortal |