Macpherson had refused to make any change in his own costume. His rôle was that of a French soldier on his way to Londonderry--in such a character De Laprade´s passport would lend verisimilitude to his story, if there were any learned enough to read it, about which he had his misgiving. Gervase was to act apparently as his guide, and in such character the old soldier did not doubt but that with ordinary discretion, they might smuggle themselves though the Irish lines if the investment had been completed. If they failed, there was some chance that the stab of a pike or the end of a rope would put a stop to their further adventures in this world.
Notwithstanding, Gervase was in high spirits at starting. He was now completely recovered from his wound, and the eight days´ confinement had made the anticipation of action and enterprise doubly welcome. He revelled in the fresh spring wind that blew softly across the bog and heathy mountain side, and could with difficulty restrain his horse to keep pace with Macpherson, who trudged at his side with a long swinging stride.
The hedges were green with verdure, and the sunshine touched with a warmer colour the bog myrtle and flowering blackthorn in which the birds were busy building. It was hard to realize that dangers were spread round them on every side, and that the entire country was up in arms in a quarrel that could have no end, till one of the combatants went down utterly. Even Macpherson, whose feelings were not easily moved, was affected by the brightness of the morning and the beauty of the scene. His emotions took their own method of expression. For a time he had been entirely silent, or replied only in monosyllables, as if engrossed in his own secret meditations, when suddenly he began to sing in loud resonant tones:
“The Lord doth reign and clothed is He With majesty most bright.”
When he had finished he threw up his beaver with an air of jubilant exultation.
“There, young sir, is a song for you to sing when you are merry; that eases the oppressed heart, and runs along the nerves and sinews, strengthening them to acts of endurance and valour. Were I a maker of songs these were the verses I should write--great words wherewith to hammer out a weapon.”