He had
followed Allen at first as the grieve had thought, but his mind was full
of the parting he had just gone through and of the misty future before
him, and when his thoughts came back with a jerk to the actualities of
the present, he heard the rush of a winter river and found that he was
close by the side of the Tweed. It was some time before he could exactly
find his bearings, but he did so at last, and, after some reconnoitring,
found a place that could be safely forded. Once across the river, he
rode quickly back towards Redbraes, hoping that by good fortune he might
yet meet with Allen, and so neatly escaped the soldiers who pursued him.
The high-road after this was no longer deemed safe, and the rest of his
ride to London was done on bye-ways and across the moors. In two days
honest John returned to Redbraes and brought to the sad hearts of Lady
Home and Grisell the joyful news that Sir Patrick had not fallen into
the hands of the dragoons, as they had greatly feared, but was now
safely on his way to England. As a travelling surgeon, calling himself
Dr. Wallace, Sir Patrick Home worked his way south, bleeding patients
when need be, prescribing homely remedies when called upon to do so.
None ever penetrated his disguise, and he was able to cross from London
to France and journey, on foot from France to Holland with complete
success.
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