Bonnie Prince Charlie : a Tale of Fontenoy and Culloden

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Henty George Alfred. Bonnie Prince Charlie : a Tale of Fontenoy and Culloden

CHAPTER I: The Return of a Prodigal

CHAPTER II: The Jacobite Agent

CHAPTER III: Free

CHAPTER IV: In France

CHAPTER V: Dettingen

CHAPTER VI: The Convent of Our Lady

CHAPTER VII: Mother!

CHAPTER VIII: Hidden Foes

CHAPTER IX: Fontenoy

CHAPTER X: A Perilous Journey

CHAPTER XI: Free

CHAPTER XII: The End of the Quarrel

CHAPTER XIII: Prince Charles

CHAPTER XIV: Prestonpans

CHAPTER XV: A Mission

CHAPTER XVI: The March to Derby

CHAPTER XVII: A Baffled Plot

CHAPTER XVIII: Culloden

CHAPTER XIX: Fugitives

CHAPTER XX: Happy Days

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So twelve years passed. Ronald Leslie grew up a sturdy lad, full of fun and mischief in spite of the sober atmosphere of the bailie's house; and neither flogging at school nor lecturing at home appeared to have the slightest effect in reducing him to that state of sober tranquillity which was in Mrs. Anderson's eyes the thing to be most desired in boys. Andrew was less deeply shocked than his wife at the discovery of Ronald's various delinquencies, but his sense of order and punctuality was constantly outraged. He was, however, really fond of the lad; and even Mrs. Anderson, greatly as the boy's ways constantly disturbed and ruffled her, was at heart as fond of him as was her husband. She considered, and not altogether wrongly, that his wilderness, as she called it, was in no slight degree due to his association with her husband's brother.

Ronald looked forward to the periodical visits of the drover with intense longing. He was sure of a sympathetic listener in Malcolm, who listened with approval to the tales of the various scrapes into which he had got since his last visit; of how, instead of going to school, he had played truant and with another boy his own age had embarked in a fisherman's boat and gone down the river and had not been able to get back until next day; how he had played tricks upon his dominie, and had conquered in single combat the son of Councillor Duff, the butcher, who had spoken scoffing words at the Stuarts. Malcolm was, in fact, delighted to find, that in spite of repression and lectures his young charge was growing up a lad of spirit. He still hoped that some day Leslie might return, and he knew how horrified he would be were he to find that his son was becoming a smug and well conducted citizen. No small portion of his time on each of his visits to Glasgow Malcolm spent in training the boy in the use of arms.

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"There is no one concealed here," Ronald replied, "and I doubt that you are, as you say, officers of the peace; but if so, pass your warrant through the grill, and if it be signed and in due form I will open to you."

"I will show my warrant when need be," the voice answered. "Once more, open the door or we will break it in."

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