The Royal Regiment, and Other Novelettes — Text and Context

THE RUTHVENS OF ARDGOWRIE

THE FATAL DAY OF THE RUTHVENS

THE CABINET OF SCINDIA

"PONTIUS PILATE'S GUARDS"

"LOVE WAS YET THE LORD OF ALL"

THE ABDUCTION OF AURELIA

CLARE THORNE'S TEMPTATION

THE GREAT SEA SERPENT

MILITARY "FOLK LORE."

THE RED COAT; A FEW NOTES CONCERNING ITS ORIGIN AND HISTORY

FURTHER NOTES ON ITS HISTORY AND ON REGIMENTALS

FAMOUS AND ANCIENT BANNERS

FAMOUS AND ANCIENT CANNON

STORY OF A MERCHANT CAPTAIN

THE STORY OF RENÉE OF ANGERS

LAURA WENLOCK'S CHRISTMAS EVE

THE RUTHVENS OF ARDGOWRIE.

"Thank Heaven, then I am not too late!" exclaimed Roland Ruthven, as he sprung on the horse that awaited him at the door of the hotel where he had arrived but an hour before; "there is no message for me specially?"

"None, sir," said the mounted groom, touching his hat, and shortening his gathered reins.

"Is living still, Master Roland; but that is all, I fear," replied the old man, with a sigh.

"Come on then, Buckle, old fellow; I think the grey nag knows my voice, though I have not been on his back for four years."

And spurring his horse, "Master Roland," as the grey-haired groom still called him, though he was nearer thirty than twenty years of age, and had held Her Majesty's commission for ten of them, departed at a rasping pace that soon left the stately streets, the spires and shipping of Aberdeen far behind them.

The royal residence at Balmoral had barely as yet been thought of, and railways had not then penetrated into the valley of the Dee; thus, all anxious as Roland Ruthven was to learn details of the perilous illness of the fine old soldier his father--the only kinsman he had in the world--at whose summons he had crossed two thousand miles and more of sea, he could only trust now to the speed of his horse, and without further questioning old Bob Buckle the groom, rode at a hard and furious gallop along the old familiar ways that led towards his home among the mountains, behind which the bright sun of a glorious evening--one of the last in June--was sinking.

Closely rode the old groom behind him, marvelling to find that the little golden-haired boy, whom he had first trained to ride a shaggy Shetlander, had now become a dark-whiskered, tall, and handsome man, well set up by infantry drill, and with all that air and bearing which our officers, beyond those of all other European armies, alone acquire, developed in chest and muscle by every manly sport; and he could recall, but with a sigh, how like "Master Roland" was now, to what the old dying Laird his father had been at the same age, when his regiment, the Royal Scots, was adding to its honours in the Peninsula--more years ago than he cared to reckon now.

And vividly in fancy too, did Roland Ruthven see before him the figure and face of that handsome old man, ere the latter became lined with care and thoughts and even his voice seemed to come distinctly to his ear, as the familiar objects of the well-remembered scenery came to view in quick succession, and at last Ardgowrie, the home of his family, rose before him in the distance, its strong walls shining redly in the setting sun.

Situated among luxuriant woods, in all their summer greenery, Ardgowrie presents the elements common to most of the northern mansions of the same age and kind--a multitude of crow-stepped gables encrusted with coats of arms, conical turrets, and angular dormer windows, giving a general effect extremely rich and picturesque, as their outlines cut the deep blue of the sky.

Notwithstanding its age, Ardgowrie is unconnected with the usual memories of crime and violence which form the general history of an old Scottish feudal fortalice, and yet it stands in the glorious valley of the Dee, between the central highlands and the fruitful lowlands, where in former ages it has been said "that the inhabitants of the two districts, thus joined by a common highway, were as unlike each other in language, manners and character as the French and the Germans, or the Arabs and the Caffres."

"At last!" exclaimed Roland, with a sigh of satisfaction, as he spurred his horse down a long and rather gloomy avenue of genuine old Scottish firs, dignified and magnificent trees, with massive trunks of dusky red, and foliage of bronze-like hue. "Ardgowrie at last!" he added, as he reined up at the stately entrance of his home, for to this moment had he looked forward with intense anxiety during the long voyage from America, while his affectionate heart had beat responsive to every throb of the mighty engines of the great Atlantic steamer.