Pictures and the Picturegoer (Jan-Dec 1924)

34 Pictures and PichjreQoer FEBRUARY 1924 hour she found him and warned him ana kissed him, 'and sent him by a certain path. " Gic me yon plaid," she cried, "and let the waggon be." The pursuit was heard behind and as they tore down the hill, Flora donned bonnet and plaid and showed herself amid the heather. Mile by mile she led them away and at last when she was overtaken it was very far from the point at which she had left her lover. Fraser was leading and a black look disfigured his features when he saw the face of his capture. "You ! Well — if I haven't got him, at least I've got you!" He turned to his followers. " Leave me." When they were alone, and the soldiers were far away across the moor Fraser with an evil smile playing about his mouth took Flora in his arms. He sought to kiss her, and now at last she drew away. " Traitor !" she cried. But he drew her to him and imprinted a hot kiss on her scarlet lips. Her tiny hands reached up and beat his face. Fraser laughed. Laughed and fell back, and sank sprawling across the heather. For from out of the shadow of a tree Prince Charlie had sprung and was standing by his lady's side. " Come," he whispered, " I have horses. I followed, knowing him at last. There is only Fraser. Alone what can he do." He led Flora to the waiting steeds and they mounted and galloped away. Behind a little ping ! cut the autumn haze — a shot from Fraser's pistol. The Prince clapped a hand to his shoulder, swayed and fell from his saddle. Somehow, Flora dismounted, and put him upon her mount, somehow she got them both away and out of Fraser's reach, for the moment, at least. Into the heather and across the hill, and over familiar ground now. But the wound bled profusely, the man leaned a dead-weight upon the girl's frail shoulders. At last a church loomed out of the mist. Here would be safety for a few minutes' rest. Nobody was in sight and none to observe their approach. Through the little gate she guided him, half-way up the narrow aisle he stumbled and fell unconscious at her feet. Flora looked round the little chapel in desperation. Here was no place for a wounded man to lie, yet here he must abide until she might fetch water, and help. Putting forth all her strength, she dragged him a few feet further, to the foot of the altar. There, with the tears streaming from her eyes, she uttered a brief prayer that none should find him, then, after propping his head upon her own bonnet, she hastened away. But behind the pursuers followed fast and the traitor Donald Macpherson fastest of all. He it was who alone entered the Highland chapel. "The end at last!" grinned Donald. But it was not. As Donald went in, a slanting beam of sunlight fell across a figure of Judas in the window. Donald stared, dropped his eyes, felt shame for perhaps the first time in his life, and turning, slunk away. Slunk away and did not look back and did not dare to think of his actions until once more he was up with the main body of Fraser's pursuit. "Any trace?" asked Fraser. The tears flowed from Flora's eyes as she offered «/• a prayer. " Not a sign," Donald replied, averting his eyes as he lied. The ferry boat that plied between the Isle of Skye and the mainland had two passengers, Flora Macdonald and her maid, Betty Burke. Flora was going, as she told the guard, to stay for a few days at the house of a friend, Kingsburgh House. They were permitted to pass, the Prince obviously not being with them, and soon the ferry boat was a mere speck on the water. But later came Fraser and his men, with the news that the guards had been fooled. "Betty Burke !" he stormed. "Fudge ! That maid Betty Burke was the Prince himself, disguised by Flora Macdonald. Fetch me boats." The Prince and Flora, before the former's departure for the privateer, now lying well inshore, were taking a last walk on the rugged rocks above the sea, looking back to the mainland for what might be the Prince's last time. Suddenly before them appeared their traitor friend. " I swore to get you," Fraser cried, " and, by heaven, at last I've got you!" Swords were drawn and the two men sprang upon each other. It was a short and desperate fight, but soon Fraser was unarmed and lying at the other's mercy. Prince Charles raised his sword and stood above his fallen foe. Then Flora spoke. " Do not soil your sword with his craven blood." she begged. " He does not deserve so noble an end as killing by you." Charles glanced down at Fraser, and from him to Flora. Then he turned away. They walked to the cliff edge and held each others' hands. For Fraser they had neither eyes I nor thought. They did not see as he raised himself upon one elbow that he drew his pistol, cocked it and aimed it at the Prince. But one watching did. Donald Macpherson fell upon his leader as the finger was on the trigger, dragged him forward to the cliff edge, and with him fell below to doom. So did Donald wipe out the black record of his past. In life a mercenary, in death he proved a Highlander. Charles and Flora walked ro the beach below, to the waiting boat that was to part them for life. For a brief moment they stood by the water side, looking into each others' eyes. Then Charles took her in a last embrace and imprinted a sorrowful kiss upon her brow. He turned away and climbed to the boat, and she, with streaming eyes, raised a m hand and waved him hopefully on his way. So they parted, the glory of their romance untarnished, the memory of their great adventure imperishable, immortal lovers.