cation with Flora
Macdonald. She was at that time calmly engaged in the usual duties of
her station; but the spirit so prevalent in the Highlands was not
extinguished in the Western Islands, either by the dread of the English
militia, or by the defeat of the Prince. All the Jacobites of that
period, to adopt the language of President Forbes, "how prudent soever,
became mad; all doubtful people became Jacobites; and all bankrupts
became heroes, and talked of nothing but hereditary right and victory.
And what was more grievous to men of gallantry, and, if you believe me,
more mischievous to the public, all the fine ladies, if you except one
or two, became passionately fond of the young adventurer, and used all
their arts for him in the most intemperate manner."[278] It was not,
however, an idle, romantic fancy, but a fixed sentiment of duty, acting
upon a kindly heart, which originated the enthusiasm of Flora.

Whilst the Prince was traversing the Long Island in poverty and danger,
a desolate wanderer wanting the common necessaries of life, but still
patient and cheerful ever hoping once more to assemble his faithful
Highlanders,--living at one time four days in a desert island, then
putting to sea pursued by ships,--Flora Macdonald had accidentally
quitted her usual residence at Armadale in Skye, for the purpose of
visiting her step-brother at Milton.

During her abode at Milton, Captain O'Neil, who was loitering about the
country for the purpose of gaining intelligence for Charles Edward,
formed an acquaintance with this young lady, and, it is said, paid his
addresses to her. More than two months had now elapsed since Charles
first trusted his hopes to the chance of finding a vessel on the coast
of the Long Island, to take him to France. During that period his
fortunes had assumed a far more threatening aspect than at any previous
time. Friends had proved faithless; Murray of Broughton, whom the Prince
then still regarded as one of the "firmest, honestest men in the world,"
had shown to others his real motives, and the deep selfishness,
cowardice, and rapacity, of his heart. In his utmost need, when the
Prince was in want of food, that wretched man had, in reply to a message
from Charles asking money, answered that he had none; having _only_
sixty louis-d'ors for himself, which were not worth sending. What was
perhaps of more immediate moment was, that, whilst the friends of the
young Chevalier had diminished, the numb