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The manuscript letter-book of Andrew Lumisden, James's secretary since Edgar's death, and brother-in-law of Sir Robert Strange, the engraver, illustrates Charles's intentions. On August 12, 1759, Lumisden is in correspondence with Murray. The Prince, to Lumisden's great delight, wants his company. Already, in 1759, Lumisden had been on secret expeditions to Paris, Germany, Austria, and Venice.
"Stand not on questioning. Suffice that there is a wounded man who is spent from loss of blood, and a young maid who has swooned from terror." There was a tone of command in Edgar's voice, and the host, seeing that he had to do with persons of quality, murmured excuses on the ground that the neighbourhood was a rough one. "You need hardly have told us that," Edgar said.
While we were waiting, John Edgar went down to the battery, in which he had served for a considerable time, detached from his company for this purpose; but he had left it and rejoined his company without being returned in due form. He was at once placed under arrest as a deserter by the officer in command, the man whose brutal treatment had caused Edgar's unauthorized return to the regiment.
The dervishes, however, since they had learnt the range of Edgar's rifle, seldom showed themselves, but crept among the rocks and bushes, fired a shot, and then crawled off again to repeat the operation fifty or a hundred yards away.
"Don't you think those two old priests are magnificent?" she said, pressing on his arm, in the obscurity of the darkened chamber. "I don't know that I care much about old priests," said Lord George. "But the heads are so fine." "I dare say. Sacerdotal pictures never please me. Didn't you say you wanted to go to Swann and Edgar's?"
Glad to repay his obligations, he conducted the poor wanderers to his castle of Dumfermline, treated them according to their rank, and promised to assert Edgar's claim to the crown. He accordingly advanced into England, where, in many places, partial risings were being made on behalf of "England's darling," as the Saxon ballads called young Edgar, after his ancestor Alfred.
"Yes; I remember," a little shade passing over Edgar's face. "I used to think it would be so nice. But, Arthur, it is better to go to the Lord Jesus; it is the Father's house, you know, and my father and mother are there; and it is my own home."
Edgar dear, I am so proud to think you told me your troubles; don't turn away from me, or I shall think you are sorry you trusted me!" and Polly laid a persuasive, disarming hand on the lad's shoulder. Suddenly Edgar's heart throbbed with a new feeling. He saw as in a vision the purity, fidelity, and tender yearning of a true woman's nature shining through a girl's eyes.
The country around us was superb, and as we walked along I went into ecstasies over the beauty of the scenery and the lovely tints of the sky; she would smile and think: "She is only an artist, an adventuress I am saved; she will merely be Edgar's friend, and keep him all the winter at Richeport."
"He was very much knocked down at first, quite overwhelmed, but less by the loss than by the shame, and the imputation on his father." "It was no fault of dear Edgar's." "No, indeed. I am glad Fernan is here to go over again what Edgar told him. We may be quite satisfied so far." "And is it needful to take it up?" asked Geraldine wistfully.
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