OR
THE THREE SISTERS
BY
JAMES GRANT
AUTHOR OF "THE ROMANCE OF WAR"
LONDON
GEORGE ROUTLEDGE AND SONS, LIMITED
NEW YORK: E. P. BUTTON AND CO.
INTRODUCTION.
In that broad and magnificent valley which separateschain of the Grampians from the Ochil Mountains, closeby the margin of the Allan, and sequestered among venerabletrees, lies the pleasant and peaceful little villageof Dunblane, in Scotland's elder days an old cathedralcity. Northward of the limpid Allan lie purple heaths,black swamps, and desert muirs. An old bridge whichspans the river, and was built in the time of KingRobert III., by "the Most Reverend Father in God,"Findlay Dermach, bishop of the see, with a few ancienthouses, having quaint chimneys and crow-stepped gables,that peep on the steep brae-side from among the shadybeeches, are all that survive of Dunblane; but over thoseremains rise the grey ruins of King David's vast cathedral,of which nothing now is standing but the roofless nave,with its shattered aisles, and the crumbling but loftygothic tower.
The gleds and corbies that flap their wings between thedeserted walls; the swallows that twitter on the carvedpillars, or build their nests among the rich oakwork of theprebends' stalls, with the grass-grown floor and emptywindows of this magnificent ruin, impress the mind of thevisitor with that melancholy which is congenial to such aplace. But it is neither the recumbent figure of a knightin armour, with his sword and triangular shield, markingwhere the once powerful Lord of Strathallan sleeps, notthe burial-place of the Dukes of Athol, blazoned with thesilver star of the Murrays, that are the most interestingfeatures in this old ruin.
It is not the fine west window which overlooks thewooded path that winds by the river-side, and is known as"the Good Bishop's walk," nor the ruined shrine wheresleeps St. Blane of Bute—he whose boat sailed upon theClyde without sail or oar; he who (as the veraciousBreviary of Aberdeen tells us) struck fire with his fingerswhen the vesper lights went out; and who raised from thedead the English heir of Appleby and Trodyngham, thatattract most particularly the attention of visitors, butthree plain slabs of blue marble, that lie side by side onthe grassy floor, and nestling, as it were, together, as if toshow that those they cover had loved each other in life toowell to be separated even in death.
The fall of the ponderous and once magnificent roof;the action of the weather, and the footsteps of visitors,have defaced the legends that were originally carved there;but the memory of those who sleep below these marblelabs yet lingers in Dunblane and Strathearn.
Under the first lies the affianced bride of one who wasa good and valiant soldier, and faithful to his king.
Under the second lies the betrothed of a stout Scottishmariner, as brave a fellow as ever faced salt water orcannon-shot.
Under the third sleeps the youngest—she who perhapswas the fairest—the wife (but not the queen) of one whoin his time was the most gallant and magnificent monarchthat ever wore the Scottish diadem.
These three ladies were sisters; and their story is astrange and a dark one.
History, tradition, and an old manuscript, that wasfound (no matter when) among the Records of the ScottishCourt of Admiralty, have enabled me to lay their livesand narrative before the reader in the following pages.
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