ing was the feeling that found expression in
long-drawn breath and broken sob and glimmering tear. The gallant lad had
trusted us, had put his life in our keeping; we highly resolved to prove
worthy of that trust.

At a signal from the Prince the musicians struck up again the dance, and
bright eyes bedimmed with tears began to smile once more. With a whispered
word Balmerino left me and made his way to the side of the Prince, about
whom were grouped the Duke of Perth, Lord Lewis Gordon, Lord Elcho, the
ill-fated Kilmarnock, as well as Lochiel, Cluny, Macleod, Clanranald, and
other Highland gentlemen who had taken their fortune in their hands at the
call of this young adventurer with the enchanting smile. To see him was to
understand the madness of devotion that had carried away these wise
gray-haired gentlemen, but to those who never saw him I despair of
conveying in cold type the subtle quality of charm that radiated from him.
In the very bloom of youth, tall, slender, and handsome, he had a grace of
manner not to be resisted. To condescend to the particulars of his person:
a face of perfect oval very regular in feature; large light blue eyes
shaded by beautifully arched brows; nose good and of the Roman type;
complexion fair, mouth something small and effeminate, forehead high and
full. He was possessed of the inimitable reserve and bearing that mark the
royal-born, and that despite his genial frankness. On this occasion he
wore his usual light-coloured peruke with the natural hair combed over the
front, a tartan short coat on the breast of which shone the star of the
order of St. Andrews, red velvet small-clothes, and a silver-hilted
rapier. The plaid he ordinarily carried had been doffed for a blue sash
wrought with gold.

All this I had time to note before Lord Balmerino rejoined me and led me
forward to the presentation. The Prince separated himself from the group
about him and came lightly down the steps to meet me. I fell on my knee
and kissed his hand, but the Prince, drawing me to my feet, embraced me.

"My gallant Montagu," he cried warmly. "Like father, like son. God knows I
welcome you, both on your own account and because you are one of the first
English gentlemen to offer his sword to the cause of his King."

I murmured that my sword would be at his service till death. To put me at
my ease he began to question me about the state of public feeling in
England concerning the enterprise. What information I