. It is melancholy to reflect that a
temper so kindly should ever have been worked up, and irritated almost
to madness, by those intrigues and misrepresentations which eventually,
combining with the wreck of his other moral qualities, alienated him
from all who really loved him.

"The Prince," as Donald relates, "could not think of parting with him at
all." This was the first time that Charles had entrusted himself,
without a single familiar friend or attendant, to strangers. "Are you,"
he said, again addressing Donald, "afraid to go with me? So long as _I_
have, you shall not want." Again Captain Macdonald referred to his
crippled foot: "he behoved to see," he said, "that his going would only
expose the Prince to new dangers, of which he had already too many to
contend with." In the course of the conversation he took occasion to
tell the Prince, since he had honoured the Macdonalds with his regard,
that, although Sir Alexander Macdonald and his followers did not join
his standard, they wished him well. "I am sensible enough of all that,"
was the reply of Charles. Donald also inquired whether the Prince was
well provided with money; as in case of need, Lady Margaret Macdonald
would supply his wants. But Charles, after expressing his gratitude to
Lady Margaret, declined her aid, as he believed that he had sufficient
to carry him to the mainland.

This painful and memorable scene came at last to a conclusion. After
being repeatedly urged by Donald to depart, Charles bade Mac Kechan
farewell. He then turned to Flora Macdonald: "I believe, madam," he
said, "that I owe you a crown of borrowed money." She answered, in her
literal and simple manner, "It was only half-a-crown." This sum the
Prince paid her. He then saluted her, and said: "Notwithstanding all
that has happened, I hope, madam, we shall meet in St. James's yet." In
this calm, and, apparently laconic manner, he bade Flora adieu. But,
though fate did not permit Charles to testify his gratitude at St.
James's, he is said never to have mentioned without a deep sense of his
obligations the name of his young protectress. In her loyal and simple
heart a sense of duty, enthusiastic reverence, and fond regret dwelt,
whilst that heart continued to beat; and, through the vicissitudes of
her after-life, the service which she had rendered to the Prince
recurred like a ray of sunshine upon a destiny almost continually
clouded and darkened by calamity.

Flora was left alone a