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SI 
 
 ARMO 
 RAM 
 
 RAI 
 
BLACKWOOD'S 
 
 STANDARD NOVELS. 
 
 ■^©So 22. 
 
 SIR ANDREW WYLIE. 
 
 ARMOUR AND RAMSAY, MONTREAL; 
 RAMSAY, ARMOUR, & CO., KINGSTON; 
 
 AND SOLD ALSO BY 
 
 RAMSAY & M'KENDRICK, HAMILTON. 
 M.DCCC.XLV. 
 
m 
 
 if. 
 
 %ti>'>- ■/('■ A.-'/ »-ny ill if.iru.r /„rf>J . "ri./ 
 
 /'.-/. «'. .fh.' /isU: 
 
SIR ANDREW WYLIE, 
 
 OF 
 
 THAT ILK. 
 
 BY 
 
 JOHN GALT. 
 
 A NEW EDITION. 
 
 ARMOUR AND RAMSAY, MONTREAL; 
 RAMSAY, ARMOUR, & CO., KINGSTON ; 
 
 AND SOIiD ALSO BY 
 
 RAMSAY & M'KENDRICK, HAMILTON. 
 M.DCCC.XLV, 
 
SBBn 
 
 i 
 
SIR ANDREW WYLIE. 
 
I 
 
 Sib Ani 
 born and b 
 of both hii 
 his matern 
 carlins wh( 
 tions and 
 character. 
 
 This old 
 shire of A 
 and yet sh 
 pleased hei 
 trust in th( 
 
 The fun 
 and that w 
 with a tall 
 better days 
 buffet-stool 
 claw- foot ti 
 together wi 
 was at onc( 
 
 Behind t 
 ground for 
 
SIE ANDKEW WYLIE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE COTTAGE. 
 
 Sir Andrew Wylfe, like the generality of great geniuses, Tvas 
 born and bred in very humble circumstances. By the early death 
 of both his parents, he '^vas consigned in infancy to the care of 
 his maternal grandmother, Tlartha Docken, one of those clachan 
 carlins who keep i,Uve, among the Scottish peasantry, the tradi- 
 tions and sentiments which constitute so much of the national 
 character. 
 
 This old woman resided in the hamlet of Stoneyholm, in the 
 shire of Ayr. Her sole breadwinner was her spinning-wheel, 
 and yet she was cheerfully contented with her lot ; for it had 
 pleased heaven to bless her with a blithe spirit, and a religious 
 trust in the goodness of Providence, 
 
 The furn^c^.e of her cottage, in addition to Andrew's cradle, 
 and that was borrowed, consisted of one venerable elbow-chair, 
 with a tall perpendicular back curiously carved, a family-relic of 
 better days, enjoyed by her own or her husband's ancestors ; two 
 buffet-stools, one a little larger than the other ; a small oaken 
 claw-foot table ; her wheel, a hand-reel, a kail-pot, and a skillet, 
 together with a scanty providing of bedding, and a chest, that 
 was at once cofitr, wardrope, and ambry. 
 
 Behind the house she had a patch of some five or six falls of 
 grotmd for a garden, which she ddved and planted herself; and 
 
mtum^ 
 
 SIR ANDHEW WYLLE. 
 
 «ie rent she paid tor the whole was ten shillings per annum. 
 1 he gathering of this sum, after she received the heavy handful 
 ot Andrew, a weak and ailing baby, required no little care. 
 i3ut instead of repining at the burden, she often declared to the 
 neighbours that he was "great company, and though at times a 
 ^ee fashions he's an auld-farand bairn, and kent a raisin frae a 
 black clock before he had a tooth ; putting the taen in his mouth 
 wi^^a smirk, but skreighing like desperation at the sight o' the 
 
 During the summer of the first year after Andrew had been 
 brought home to her, she was generally seen sitting with her 
 whee, basking in the sun, at the gable of her cottage, with he 
 grandson at her side in her biggest stool, turned upside down! 
 amusing himself with the cat. ' 
 
 Andrew was a small and delicate child; but he grew apace, 
 and every day m the opinion of his grandmother, improved in 
 
 Jlnir. V "^1 T'" '^ '^' '''^ *« ^'^ ^^™--« ^hile she 
 dandled him at the door as they stopped to speak to her in pass- 
 
 blithe as the hit o' the linty." 
 _ Philosophers, in these expressions, may discover the fond anti- 
 
 fo tune for the child ; but Andrew, for a long time, showed no 
 nd cation of possessing any thing in common with the talents 
 that are usually supposed requisite to ensure distinction or 
 nches In his boyhood, however, Martha frequently observed 
 that he was a pawkie laddie, and if he wasna a deacon at book 
 lair, he kent as weel as the maister himsel' how raony blue beans 
 it taks to mak five." 
 
 The "maister" here spoken of was Dominie Tannyhill, one of 
 those meek and modest novices of the Scottish priesthood, who 
 never happening to meet with any such stroke of good fortune 
 as the lot of a tutor in a laird's family, wear out the even tenor 
 of their blameless days in the little troubles of a village school 
 
 At the time when Andrew was placed under his care," the 
 master seemed to be about forty, but he was probably two or 
 three years younger. Ho was pale and thin, and under the 
 middle size, and stooped a little, as if his head had been set on 
 
 somewhat i 
 
 had acquin 
 
 tomed to w 
 
 At times h( 
 
 of dignity, 
 
 and accent 
 
 Every th 
 
 perfect ace 
 
 few and hui 
 
 in his thouj 
 
 addressed h 
 
 times show* 
 
 make him 
 
 ., ever felt th( 
 
 "., repined at 1 
 
 I left to pass 
 
 ^ gentle cour 
 
 I edging of ri 
 
 Jsobriety of 
 
 shushed in 1 
 
 ^showed tow 
 
 Ipupils an all 
 
 Jj state and cc 
 
 yielded to tli 
 
 the taws, thi 
 
 In his dre 
 
 manners. ] 
 
 coat and ve 
 
 showed a bi 
 
 dust. His 1 
 
 preserved fn 
 
 reaching abo 
 
 fort of his leg 
 
 ^and the chur 
 
 |ing solitary a 
 
 ihe wore a sr 
 
 [tender, in bi 
 
igs per annum. 
 J heavy handful 
 no little care, 
 declared to the 
 3ugh at times a 
 ; a raisin frae a 
 in in his mouth 
 ;he sight o' the 
 
 drew had been 
 tting with her 
 ttage, with her 
 I upside down, 
 
 le grew apace, 
 *, improved in 
 lers while she 
 to her in pass- 
 his laugh's as 
 
 the fond anti- 
 a prosperous 
 le, showed no 
 th the talents 
 listinction or 
 ntly observed 
 3acon at book 
 tiy blue beans 
 
 nyhill, one of 
 3sthood, who, 
 good fortune 
 10 even tenor 
 llftgc school. 
 Ills care, the 
 bably two or 
 d under the 
 been set on 
 
 CHAPTER I. — THE COTTAGE. $ 
 
 I somewhat awry. It proceeded, however, from a habit which he 
 Ihad acquired, in consequence of being short-sighted, and accus- 
 ■ktomed to write and read with his ear almost touching the paper. 
 |At times he would erect himself even into something like an air 
 |of dignity, and change his lowly and diffident tone into the voice 
 |and accent of an earnest and impassioned eloquence. 
 I Every thing in his appearance indicated a moderate spirit, in 
 iperfect accordance with the mildness of his manners, and his 
 Ifew and humble acquirements; but there was an apostolic energy 
 fin his thoughts, when his own feelings were roused, or when he 
 faddressed himself to rao^ ose of others, with which nature at 
 J times showed how willing she was, if fortune had so pleased, to 
 'make him a pathetic and impressive preacher. Whether he 
 ' ever felt the longings of ambition, or rather, whether he ever 
 repined at the unheeded and unknown estate in which he was 
 1 left to pass away, like a sequestered spring, whose pure and 
 ■gentle course is only seen in the meadows by a little narrow 
 vedging of richer verdure, could never be discovered in the stUl 
 iBobriety of his placid temper; but if all other passions were 
 ;5hushed in his quiet bosom, the kindly disposition which he 
 •ehowed towards every living thing begat in the minds of his 
 .pupils an affectionate respect, of far greater power in the little 
 Estate and commonwealth of his school, than would have been 
 I yielded to the authoi:ty of more arrogant abilities, backed by 
 ;' the taws, that dreaded satrap of Scottish didactic discipline. 
 
 In his dress, the master was as remarkable as in his mind and 
 manners. His linen was always uncommonly neat, and his 
 coat and vest of raven grey, though long threadbare, never 
 showed a broken thread, nor the smallest stationary speck of 
 dust. His breeches, of olive thickset, were no less carefully 
 preserved from stains; and his dark blue worsted gamashins 
 ■ reaching above the knees in winter, not only added to the com-' 
 jfort of his legs, but protected his stockings. Between his cottage 
 |aml the church or in the still evenings when he was .seen walk- 
 ling solitary along the untrodden parts of the neighbouring moor 
 pe wore a small cocked-hat, and, as his eyes were weak and 
 Render, in bright weather he commonly slackened the loops 
 
O sin ANDREW WYLIE. 
 
 and, turning the point round, converted the upright gable of 
 the back into a shade. 
 
 If the master, like other potentates, had a favourite, it was 
 certainly our hero, at whose droll and whimsical remarks he 
 was sometimes observed almost to smile. For Andrew was not 
 long at school till he showed that he was, at least with respect to 
 his sayings, destined to attract notice. Indeed, the very first day 
 when his grandmother herself led him to the door with his A B 
 board in his hand, he got a name that he never lost. After the 
 dismissal of the school, as he was playing with the other boys 
 on the high-road, a carriage and four horses, with outriders, 
 happened to pass, whiriing along with the speed and pride of 
 nobility. The school-boys, exhilarated by the splendour of a 
 phenomenon, rare in those days in Stoneyholra, shouted with 
 gladness as it passed, and our hero animated the shout into 
 laughter, by calling out, " Weel dime, wee wheelie, the muckle ane 
 canna catch you." From that time he was called "Wheelie;" 
 but, instead of being offended by it, as boys commonly are by 
 their nicknames, he bore it with the greatest good-humour; and 
 afterwards, when he had learned to write, marked his books and 
 copies with " Andrew Wheelie, his book." Even the master in 
 time used to call him Wheelie, and insensibly fostered his taste 
 for the odd and droll, by sometimes inviting hira on a Saturday 
 afternoon to partake of his pale and economical tea. 
 
 Andrew, who was naturally shrewd and observant, perceiving 
 that the master was diverted by his humour, exerted himself on 
 these occasions, by which exercise he gradually acquired a 
 degree of readiness and self-possession in conversation, unusual 
 among Scottish boys, and a happy vernacular phraseology, 
 which he retained through life, and which, with those who had 
 a true relish of character, was enjoyed as something as rare and 
 original as the more elegant endowment of genius. 
 
 Andre\ 
 
 ty partici 
 ysofac 
 H desired 
 itting ex 
 Ipimour ki 
 mg of his 
 1^sk his ne 
 lips full 8h£ 
 • On an o 
 JWung one 
 It almost ei 
 who was s( 
 i* the day' 
 thought it 
 l)ni:k and j 
 aisigning a 
 ^ilespot, "i 
 toair wi' hi 
 " JMngham's 
 eertainly n 
 Andrew no 
 furprising 
 diverting di 
 pleased wit 
 ivory word 
 When hi 
 found his 
 llaced herpj 
 ling that t 
 'e, and the 
 ited in the 
 The natu 
 
 .v'^ 
 

 pright gable of 
 
 avourite, it was 
 cal remarks he 
 Andrew was not 
 with respect to 
 he very first day 
 )r with his A B 
 lost. After the 
 the other boys 
 with outriders, 
 id and pride of 
 splendour of a 
 , shouted with 
 the shout into 
 the muckle ane 
 3d "Wheelie;" 
 nmonly are by 
 l-humour; and 
 ; his books and 
 » the master in 
 tered his taste 
 on a Saturday 
 ea. 
 
 mt, perceiving 
 ted himself on 
 ly acquired a 
 ation, unusual 
 ' phraseology, 
 those who had 
 ig as rare and 
 
 CHAPTER II. — THE MAGPIE. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE MAOPIE, 
 
 Andrew was not distinguisTied among his school-fellows by 
 Miy particular predilection for those amusements in which the 
 fcloys of a country school are so adventurous; yet he was always 
 $ desired member of their nesting parties in the spring, and 
 nutting excursions in the autumn; for his drollery and good 
 humour knit their hearts to him; and if he seldom strung an 
 ^g of his own berrying, and absolutely, at all times, refused to 
 nsk his neck on the boughs of the hazel, he still brought home 
 his full share of the holyday plunder. 
 
 On an occasion when a pyet's nest was scaled, only a single 
 young one was found; and it was so strong and cunning, that 
 it almost escaped from the grasp of Willy Cunningham, the boy 
 who was sent up the tree. Some debate ensued on the division 
 of the day's spoil, as to who should get the magpie. Andrew 
 thought it ought to be given to Willy; but Cunningham, a 
 firaiik and generous fellow, insisted that it should be Wheelie's, 
 Msigning as a reason, that Maggy, as Andrew had called it on 
 ttie spot, "was an auld-farand thing like himsel', and would learn 
 inair wi' him than wi' ony other laddie at the school." Cun- 
 ningham's proposal was ratified with a unanimous shout; and 
 |ertamly no bird was ever more appropriately disposed of, for 
 ^ndrew not only taught it to fetch and carry, and to filch with 
 Jirprismg mldress, but to speak several words with the most 
 iivertmg distinctness. Maggy herself seemed to be right well 
 fleased with her master; and, according to tradition, knew 
 |very word he said, with the discernment of a fairy. 
 : When his companions, in the winter evenings, assembled 
 tound his grandmother's hearth, Maggy on those occasions 
 .--_ uer...!r ... ,w^cn hia jcf^s; and as olteu as he said any 
 hing that tickled their young fancies, turned up her cunnini 
 |ye, and then jocundly chattered with her bill, as if she partici- 
 fated in their laughter. 
 The natural knavery of the magpie being cultivated by edu- 
 
8 
 
 SIE AMDBEW WYLIB. 
 
 cation, she sometimes took it into her head to pilfer a Uttle on 
 her own account, and among others who suffered by her depre- 
 dations, was the master. Between the school hours he always 
 opened the windows to ventilate the room; and Maggy, as often 
 as she could, availed herself of the opportunity to steal the boys- 
 pens. It happened, however, that she went once too often, and 
 was caught in the fact, with a new pen in her neb. 
 
 The master's own kindly humour induced him to pardon the 
 bird; but as quarrels had arisen among the boys, occasioned by 
 the loss of their pens, one accusing the other of the theft, he 
 deemed it incumbent on him to rebuke the owner of the depre- 
 dator.. Accordingly, when the school assembled in the after- 
 noon, he proclaimed silence; and taking up Maggy from under 
 a basket where he had imprisoned her, he addressed the boys 
 to the following effect:— ^ 
 
 "ma' amang you is guilty of keeping this misleart and un- 
 principled pyet, which is in the practice, whenever I leave the 
 windows open to air the school, of coming in and stealing the 
 pens from off the desks-carrying them awa' in its neb, wifh u 
 ony regard for the consequence ? " 
 
 "It's mine," cried Andrew. 
 
 "Yours!" said the master; "then Wheelie, come ye here, for 
 I maun point out to you the great error of such conduct. It is 
 
 that they wha begin wi' stealing needles and prins, may end 
 wi horned knout.' I'm no saying, so ye needna n eher that 
 ever this pyet will steal either horse or black cattle; but I woJld 
 exhort you, nevertheless, to put it away, for it is a wicked bird 
 and may, by its pranks, entice yon to do evil youisei.' I dinna.' 
 
 SeaTrrTK ''''' ''. ^'""'•^ P"* *^'P«- --*-e to 
 feathered fowl and no endowed wi' ony natural understanding 
 of good and evil. It kens nae better, like the other beasts thaf 
 pensh than to mak its living in a dishonest manner. Th re 
 fore, I counsel you ju.t t. take it to the woods, and set it at 
 liberty, where it may fall out in some other's hand " 
 
 To this Andrew replied, with one of his pawkie glances "It's 
 but the first fault o' poor Maggy, master, and ye'shouldna L 
 
 brly sevei 
 
 f; so I ho 
 
 I steik in 
 
 hame— 
 
 ig such 
 
 aggie i 
 
 the adv 
 
 ip of tht 
 
 It's real 
 
 ;his ae t 
 
 string 
 
 Sng what 
 
 >%ndrew 1 
 
 iMiame a g 
 
 dticed precis 
 
 iMxig portat 
 
 alpecially tl 
 
 maiden aunt 
 
 XQiiter of thi 
 
 Miss Mizi 
 
 thf* village, 
 
 Ml^; for t 
 
 trqwbled him 
 
 iM>drcw desc 
 
 1»r his hands 
 
 A$ for Miss 
 
 •Od precisior 
 
 W«l-c kept, th 
 
 OWst order ; i 
 
 IWn-thy lady's 
 
 It liappene 
 
 the family sli 
 
 purpose, 
 
 Ition of er 
 
 was sittii 
 
 parlour v 
 
 b, with h 
 
 :gy had s 
 
CHAPTEE II. — THE MAGPIE. 
 
 pilfer a little on 
 ed by her depre- 
 hours he always 
 Maggy, as often 
 to steal the boys' 
 ce too often, and 
 neb. 
 
 m to pardon the 
 's, occasioned by 
 of the theft, he 
 er of the depre- 
 id in the after- 
 ggy from under 
 ressed the boys 
 
 isleart and un- 
 sver I leave the 
 nd stealing the 
 its neb, without 
 
 me ye here, for 
 ionduct. It is, 
 a true saying, 
 )rins, may end 
 »a nicher, that 
 le; but I would 
 a wicked bird, 
 ■sei.' I dinna, 
 or creature to 
 ken it's but a 
 understanding 
 ler beasts that 
 iner. There- 
 and set it at 
 1." 
 
 glances, "It's 
 1 shouldna bo 
 
 9 
 
 (rtterly severe, for she doesna ken, as ye say, that theeving's a 
 rfn; so I hope ye'U allow me to gie her an opportunity to tak up 
 the steik in her stocking, and I'll admonish her weel when I get 
 
 thame— O ye sinfu' bird, are ye no ashamed of yoursel, to 
 g such disgrace on me?" 
 Maggie instantly testified her contrition and her thankfulness 
 for the advocacy of her master, by hopping from the relaxed 
 gWlsp of the good-natured dominie, and nestling in his bosom. 
 
 "It's really a droll beast, I maun alloo that, and I'll forgie you 
 for this ae time," said the master; "but I would advise you to 
 tl#a string to its leg, and keep it in the house, for there's no 
 telling what it may commit." 
 
 Andrew having thus obtained pardon for the magpie, she 
 became a greater favourite than ever with the boys, and pro- 
 duced precisely the effects which the master had feared. No- 
 thing portable at open window was safe from her thievish bill, 
 especially the thread papers of Miss Mizy Cunningham, the 
 maiden aunt of the boy by whose good-nature our hero became 
 master of the bird. 
 
 Miss Mizy lived in the mansion-house of Craiglands, close to 
 the village, and had under her dominion Willy and his sister 
 Mary; for their mother was dead, and the laird, their father, 
 teoubled himself very little with any earthly thing. He was, as 
 i^drow described him, " a carle ', at daunered about the doors 
 ^i his hands in his pouches, and took them out at meal-time." 
 As for Miss Mizy herself, she was a perfect paragon of gentility 
 Md precision. However slovenly the grounds about the house 
 IJJc kept, the interior of the mansion was always in the trim- 
 ^Bt order ; and nothing could exceed the nun-like purity of the 
 llSp-thy lady's own cambric-clad person, 
 "^t happened, by the death of a relation, that it was necessair 
 tamily should be put into mourning; and Miss Mizy, for 
 purpose, had bought herself a suit of sable, as well as a due 
 
 'tion of crape, and the other requisites of funereal sorrow. 
 
 ^ was sitting, busy with her needle, making up the dress at 
 parlour window, which was open, when Andrew, one after- 
 
 in, with his pyet, came to ask Willy to go out with him. 
 
 Tgy had so often teazed Miss Mizy by pilfering her thread 
 
10 
 
 SIB ANDREW WYLIE. 
 
 i ( 
 
 I'l 
 
 <'» 
 
 
 i I 
 
 papers, that justice and vengeance were sworn against her 
 This the boj^s were well aware of, but could not resist the temp, 
 tation of " setting up the birses of aunty." Maggy, accordingly 
 was set loose. In a moment she was in at the window, and had 
 seized a thread-case. Miss Mizy, however, before the pyet could 
 escape, darted at her Uke a cat on a mouse; and almost in the 
 same instant, poor Maggy, with its neck twisted, was flung out 
 with such fury at Andrew that it almost knocked iiim down. 
 
 This was a dremlful outrage on the part of Miss Mizy ; and 
 the whole school participated in the revenge which was vowed 
 against the murderer of Maggy; nor was ever revenge more 
 complete. Next day, the principal companions of Andrew pro. 
 vided themselves with a large tub, which they filled with water 
 from the laird's stable-yard ; and Andrew, going up to the win- 
 dow where Miss Mizy was again sitting at her seam, while the 
 other conspirators were secretly bringinglhe tub under the win. 
 dow, cried, " Ye auld rudons, what gart you kill my pyet ?— odd 
 I'll mak you rue that. Nae wonder ye ne'er got a man, ye 
 cankery runt, wi' your red neb and your tinkler tongue." 
 
 This was enough. Miss Mizy rose like a tempest; the same 
 moment souse came the unsavoury del'.ge from the tub, full in 
 her face, to the total wreck and destruction of all the unfinished 
 bravery of mournings which lay scattered around. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE TASK, 
 
 "The awfu'-like thing," as Miss Mizy ever afterwards spoke 
 of the schoolboys' conspiracy, was attended with the most im- 
 portant consequences. The first result was a formal complaint 
 to Mr Tannyhill, to whom the indignant plaintiff stated her 
 wrongs with an eloquence to which we cannot do justice, de- 
 manding the immediate punishment of the offenders. 
 
 Hhe mast< 
 
 Ni^unt thai 
 
 itive, ce 
 
 tl^erpetral 
 
 XRpis way I 
 
 Bent whi( 
 
 lown in ] 
 
 as the € 
 
 le delinc 
 
 ly with 1 
 
 lire them 
 
 lol two 
 
 though 
 
 oe^rred to 1 
 
 hwqdship; on 
 
 toperform, ii 
 
 hiui been so 
 
 boys assembl 
 
 and made the 
 
 M told y( 
 
 "th|t the ill , 
 
 scorn; and nc 
 
 ye stand, five 
 
 are, that I ou 
 
 w«|ght o' my 
 
 on the body : 
 
 taws in the lo 
 
 iM^nis, I'm wj 
 
 to become of ; 
 
 la, Wheelic 
 
 lischief? 
 
 lae only ^ 
 
 lur has et( 
 
 fear n' Qnf 
 
 kindness, ; 
 
 to the r 
 
 e, and sta 
 
 eel, wee] 
 
TOm against her, 
 it resist the temp. 
 iggy, accordingly, 
 ' window, and had 
 'ore the pyet could 
 md almost in the 
 :ed, was flung out 
 ced ium down. 
 Miss Mizy ; and 
 which was vowed 
 er revenge more 
 s of Andrew pro- 
 filled with water 
 ig up to the win- 
 • seam, while the 
 b under the win- 
 
 I my pyet ?— odd 
 ' got a man, ye 
 r tongue." 
 mpest ; the same 
 
 the tub, full in 
 
 II the unfinished 
 id. 
 
 fi 
 
 CHAPTER III. — THE TASK. 
 
 11 
 
 fterwarda spoko 
 h the most im- 
 irmal complaint 
 ntiff stated her 
 do justice, de- 
 lers. 
 
 The master's affectionate bosom was deeply afilicted with the 
 account that Miss Mizy gave of "the deevilry," which, in her 
 nanrative, certainly suflFered no diminution either in the sins of 
 the perpetration, or the cunning with which it had been planned. 
 In his way back to the school, he meditated on the sort of pun- 
 ishment which he ought to inflict, for hitherto the rod had been 
 unknown in his discipline; and he came to the strange conclusion, 
 that, as the end of all punishment ought to be the reformation 
 of tile delinquent, he would oblige the culprits in this case to 
 apply with more than ordinary assiduity to tLeir tasks, and 
 require them, for the remainder of the summer, to attend the 
 school two additional hours a-day. Some governors might 
 have thought this a punishment to themselves, hat it never 
 occurred to his honest and ingenuous bosom that it was any 
 hardship ; on the contrary, he felt it a duty which he was called 
 to perform, in order to correct the effects of the evil spirit which 
 had been so audaciously manifested. Accordingly, when the 
 boys assembled next day, he called the conspirators before him, 
 and made them mount a form in presence of their companions. 
 "I told you," said he, casting his eyes towards our hero, 
 "that the ill deedy pyet would bring you into baith scaith and 
 scorn; and now ye see my prophecy has come to pass, for there 
 ye stand, five a' in a row, like so many evil-doers as ye surely 
 are, that I ought to make an example of, by letting you fin' the 
 vraight o' my hand. But it's no my way to chastise with stripes 
 on the body: no, unless the heart is made to feel, a bite o' the 
 taws in the loof, or on the back, will soon heal. In truth, my 
 s, I'm wae for you; for gin ye gang on at this rate, what's 
 icome of you when ye enter the world to mak your bread? 
 I, Wheelie, will hae ony regard for you, if ye gie yoursel up 
 lischief ? Others here hae friens that may guide them, but 
 [hae only your auld feckless grannie, that wi' mickle hard 
 Sur has ettled, with a blessed constancy, to breed you up in 
 fear o' God. O man, it will be a sore return for u her love 
 kindness, if ye break her heart at last!— I speak to you mair 
 ' to the rest, because in this matter ye are the most to 
 e, and stand in the greatest peril." 
 "eel, weel," cried our hero, half sobbing half angrily, «'ye 
 
12 
 
 SIR ANDHEW WTLIE. 
 
 I 
 
 - ::l! 
 
 ! Jill I 
 
 need nae fash me ony mair about it, but teU me at ance wh ^AM^^a hpnn 
 ye're ga'n to do wi' me." -S ' 
 
 li^^T?.!"!' .'" f *°"^fh^. at .this interruption, that I J^ld!' """'' 
 
 can sa^ 
 Ing a wo 
 
 hat a I 
 iay so IE 
 Fill ye h 
 
 he at t 
 behind i 
 
 umediate] 
 
 Wheel 
 
 stepped back, and sat down in his chair for some time silei,' 
 The culprits became all pale, and the rest of the boys stoo 
 aghast; so daring a defiance, as it seemed to them, of all autht 
 Tity, could not, it was supposed, but be followed by some tre 
 mendous display of power. 
 
 _ Mr TannyhiU, however, read Wylie's character in the exprc ^] 
 sion, and by some happy or benevolent interpretation of h- 
 pet^lance, took the only way with him that could be attends 
 with any benefit.-"! will fash you nae mair," said he, address 
 ing him emphatically, «as ye seem to be contrite for yoii 
 fault; but, in order to try whether ye have the right leaven • 
 repentance in you, I will task you to a task that will do yo 
 good for a' the remainder of your days." 
 
 He then ordered him to get the first fifty Psalms by hear. ^ wheel 
 
 them" '"™ '" ^''' '"' P"^^"^ *'" ^^ ^«^ ^-- ve^'rsrPsalr 
 
 From that moment Andrew applied himself to learn tl ^"jLefencTv 
 
 Psalms with a perseverance that quite surprised the mast, soi^rhe ' 
 
 who had hitherto regarded him but as a droll and curious creat^rtwelfth F 
 
 ture. The shortness of the time in which he performed tLli^S "rpS 
 
 task was not, however, remarkable; for his memo^^ was m^^ 
 
 well adapted to literature, but his singular abstraction from al^rbut bel 
 
 his playfellows, and the earnestness with which he adhera same place' ne; 
 
 determinately to his task, astonished every one. During tl, woid 
 
 intervals of the school hours, he was seen sitting by himself ii ^'aiu the b. 
 
 the lee of a headstone in the churchyard, muttering verse aft.st^, with An 
 
 verse from the Psalm-book which he held in his hand. pletti.re to Th" 
 
 .JZT ''^"'*'°." ^^"'^ Cunningham, the sister of Willy, hap. mofetonous st; 
 
 Whl^lie?"'"'' ''""^ ' '''^' "^^''* ""'' y*^ '^"'"^ ^'"'"^ *''« '^^^ 
 TT 1 1 J , . . ajpUn obliffed tl 
 
 lie looked up. hut. wifhnut answorine- hor mi—'^i- ■ _si^ • - 
 
 . ! • ■ — i-ut unswering ner quc-suun, repeaici -^jjii iiie tliird 
 
 in a loud monotonous voice. — ■»_ 
 
 ^^wvo more 
 
 "My heart Inditing l8 ^i^V^^d her 8 
 
 .. ^ , """'^ '"""«•■ '" "* «''"^-" I^Kforth, till 
 
 C), hae ye no got your Psalms yet!" exclaimed Mary, foi 
 
CHAPTER in. — THE TASK. 
 
 13 
 
 U me at ance v>k she had heard from her brother of his particular additional pun- 
 terruption, that I '£,T "'' ^"°^ "^ ''''' '' ^^"' ^"^"^"-^^ how many he had 
 
 ^ofTe wst j:^zzr'''''-'''''' ' ''''^''' ""''^ ^^^' -^*^-^ 
 
 mea by some tr. ever say so many Psalms straight through." 
 
 icter in the ev.r. CTu ^'^ '^f ''^'" ™'^" '"''^ ^"'^'"^' ^"^ «he took the book, 
 icter m theexpr , whid, he at the same time offered, and leaning over the head- 
 erpretation of k stone behind him, bade him begin, 
 could be attends 
 
 " said he, address " '^^^^ '"'^" '"'*'' ''^'■^®'=* blessedness 
 
 ^ .^ ' Who valketh not astray," 
 
 contrite for yoK , 
 
 he right leaven ( ™ ™™ediately repeated in one unvaried stream of voice, 
 
 that will do yo: « But dwelleth in the scomer's chair, 
 
 And stands in sinner's way.'' 
 
 frntTLy, *"" ""^ '^^■^^"' ^^''■'«'«' y= •="»"» »«y 'he f'St verse o" the 
 ..11 he had le.™ ™«first Psal.; a pretty like story, that'ye hae gottenUd! 
 
 rartrty heart!" exclaimed Mary, 
 self to learn tt Reference was, in consequence, made to the book- and aftpr 
 nsed the maste, some farther parley, Andrew resLed, and wen on as far a 
 andcunouscreathe twelfth Psalm without missing a single word to the de 
 he performed rt. lighted surprise of his fair auditor^ By fh s dme however h 
 
 itraction from al hi 
 hich he adherai 
 me. During tb 
 ng by himself it 
 tering verse afte: 
 is hand. 
 :er of Willy, bap. 
 s ye doing tlure, 
 
 ucstion, repeats 
 
 >5P 
 
 limed Mary, 
 
 , but, before partmg, she agreed to visit him again at the 
 place next day to hear the remainder, and she kept her 
 
 ■ain the book was in her hand, and leaning over the tomb- 
 . with Andrew sitting below, she listened with unwearied 
 ire to the undeviating and inflexible continuance of his 
 -•onous strain, till he had reached the thirty-first Psalm 
 the same causes that occasioned the former interruption 
 ^ obliged them to separate, after a renewal of the nnmnact 
 |. tlie third day, Andrew completed not only the forty*-ona 
 |.o more that he had learned in the mean time. Mary 
 
 Iforth TillhTf ° «^h^«,^«°«ul genius, and from 
 -eforth, till he had completed his task, she was his regular 
 
^J;i 
 
 t '1'7! 
 
 IJii 
 
 14 
 
 SIB ANDREW WTLIE. 
 
 Out of this circumstance, a greater degree of intimacy aro 
 between them than is usual among boys and girls of their a? 
 She admired him as a prodigy of talent, and he was plea. 
 when he met her, on account of the interest she had taken 
 his task. From the attack on her aunt, however, he had h 
 prohibited from approaching " The Place," as the Craicrk 
 mansion-house was called by the villagers; and as she°T 
 educated by Miss Mizy herself, preparatory to being in d 
 time sent to an Edinburgh boarding-school, they had few opix 
 tunities of meeting. But on Sunday he always took care 
 stand in the path by which the laird's family crossed the churc 
 yard, and a smile was as regularly exchanged between them 
 passing. As often also as the minister read out to be sung i 
 ore of the fifty psalms, Mary would peep over the front of i 
 laird's laft, to where Andrew sat beside his grandmother in t 
 area below ; and on these occasions she never missed his p 
 which seemed to be instinctively turned up in expectation 
 meeting hers. 
 
 In this way, the germ of a mutual eflPection was implanb 
 before either was awakened by nature to the sense of lovei 
 beauty, or informed by the world of the disparity of their c( 
 dition. They were themselves unconscious of the tie with whi 
 simi ■ ity had innocently linked them together— and being 
 yet Luth free from the impulses of passion, they felt not i 
 impediments which birth and fortune had placed between tlie 
 
 The Craigland family was one of the most ancient in : 
 county ; the estate was large, but by the indolence of the lai 
 it was much neglected, and the rental was in consequence snii 
 The woods, however, were valuable, and the old tacks, or leas 
 were drawing to a close ; so that, while in a state of comparati 
 penury, it seemed probable that both Cunningham and his sis: 
 would inherit a very ample patrimony. Of this their m 
 Miss Mizy, was fully sensible, and frequently complained tob! 
 brother that he should allow his son, with such an inheritaai 
 in view, to be brought up among the children of the tenaci 
 But her complaints were long unavailing. The laird had t ' 
 educated in the same school with the ^••theu of these child,, 
 and he could discover nothing in his sister's remonstrances 
 
 ;e him -^ 
 " The awfu 
 thm her le( 
 aU the easy 
 Miss Mizy'i 
 dishonour ti 
 permitted tc 
 of Mr Tani 
 sent from h( 
 and prospect 
 that drop av 
 wilt soon for 
 
 4 
 
 ■9 
 
 ■ AtterCui 
 
 a copsiderabl 
 
 Tfcii fraternit 
 
 icourse ol 
 
 !W was 
 
 po«lry interm 
 
 as well as bo^ 
 
 [bleoftht 
 
 e suffere 
 
 le nicknai 
 
 ally forg 
 
 the stri| 
 
 he could 
 
 -rows an 
 
 of the C 
 
 time "lik 
 
 on the r 
 
 due-gowi 
 
CHAPTER IV.— THE PAIR. 
 
 ree of intimacy ar 
 nd girls of their a.? 
 
 and he was pleac 
 est she had taken 
 owever, he had be 
 !," as the Craigla: 
 rs ; and as she \r 
 ary to being in i 
 
 they had few opjK 
 always took care 
 7 crossed the churt 
 fed between them 
 I out to be sung a: 
 )ver the front of i 
 
 grandmother in t 
 ever missed his e 
 ip in expectation 
 
 16 
 
 make him wish to see his son a finer gentleman than himself. 
 ♦*gie awfu'-like thing," however, had a more impressive effect 
 im her lectures. It was an exploit of mischief far surpassing 
 a» the easy pranks of his soft youth ; and upon the minister, at 
 Sm Mizys mstigation, representing to him the disgrace and 
 di^nour that would ensue to the family if the heir was long 
 penjitted to associate with such unmeet playmates as the boys 
 ofJIr TannyhDl's school, he consented that Willy should be 
 86^ from home, and placed nt an academy suita jle to his rank 
 andprospects. This was accordingly d.ne, and like other boys 
 that drop away from among their school-fellows, Cunningham 
 1"* soon forgotten. 
 
 ition was implanb 
 le sense of love i 
 iparity of their or 
 »f the tie with whi 
 ther — and being 
 1, they felt not t 
 laced between the: 
 nost ancient in t 
 dolence of the lai 
 consequence sms 
 old tacks, or leas 
 itate of comparat 
 gham and his !>i< 
 )f this their an 
 f complained to \ 
 luch an inheri'ur 
 ren of the tenac 
 rhe laird had bt 
 3 of these childr- 
 s remonstrance* 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE PAIR. 
 
 ■ Am-ER Cunningliam was removed from Mr Tannvhill's sehool 
 a«o.s.derab,e change took place among „„r heroCpU;:.^ 
 
 Uwcourse of hat sramer, broken np, and, for some time 
 A^ew was without any particular companion. These emJ 
 
 as well as boys ; but the cares of our riper vears makp ,w i.. 
 aearible of the blank left by the removal ofa nTghbrr ha„ he 
 Io«.vo suffered when a school-fellow was taken away ' 
 ^emcknameof Wheelie, in consequence of this change was 
 ^^^ forgotten or rather ceased to be any longerTn'ur 
 
 h cVuw'nT J'r -'r™^' '^"^ '" ^"-^ of'somethTg 
 
 fi»i^ c.u" 7,". ',' "' pliiniing that skirted the hills and 
 
 ^uLXt7^1'- f ' r- ^ >■'» godmother" 
 Mg time l,ke a tynt creature," and for lack of other company 
 ^ on the ro«i-side, fell into discourse with traveCtok: 
 l«»bl„e.j„wn,, or old soldiers, who had acquired a suffl "e„. 
 
16 
 
 SIB ANDREW WTLtE. 
 
 7, 'si '~i 
 
 Stock of wounds and scars to set them up in beggary. Poor ^ 
 Andrew, however, had nothing to give thera; but, nevciLhdess, i 
 it was remarked that they always left him seemingly better 
 pleased than they e\cr quitted the laird's yett, even wiier JTjss 
 Mizy, after the term-day, allowed an ex^ra nerr- -Cul to their 
 wonted weekly almous. 
 
 In the evenings, Andrew had recourse to the firesides of the 
 gash and knacky carles and carlins of the village. Still, even in 
 their queerest stories he found a deficiency, for he had no friend 
 of his own age to share his remarks afterwards. 
 
 About Hallowe'en, however, th-j want was supplied. At the 
 distance of a mile from Stoneyholm lay the small estate of 
 Woodside, a mailing, as it was called, with a house somewhat 
 better than the common farm-steadings. The proprietor hap- 
 penei to die, and the lauds were rented by his heirs to a neigh- 
 bouring farmer : the hf »se and garden being in consequence to 
 let, were taken by a Mrs Pierston, the widow of a Glasgow 
 merchant, who, at the Martinmas term, took possession. 
 
 This matron had but one child, a fine smart rattling boy of 
 the name of Charles; who was sent to the master's school, 
 where he and Andrew soon became inseparable. The distance of 
 his mother's house from the village occasioned him, as is usual 
 in such circumstances, to bring his dinner in his pocket at first; 
 he was afterwards allowed to dine with Andrew— an arrange- 
 ment of some advantage to old Martha; for Mrs Pierston was 
 in good circumstances, a. .nt'nlgeTt to her rnly son. Thus 
 conirnenced one of those rjfui r r.:, which ar^i f vmed but at 
 school, and are generally sayposed to weather the changes of 
 fortune, and the blasts of adversity, better than the friendships 
 of more considerate years. 
 
 The buoyancy of Pierston's spirits gave him a seeming ascen- 
 dancy over Wylie; but it was soon observed by the neighbours, 
 that, in reality, Andrew was the master, and that, by submitting 
 to the pranks and whims of Charles in small affairs, he uni- 
 formly obtained the management of things of greater moment, 
 if such language may be applied to the disinterested concerns of 
 school-boys. Pierston had also, as it might have been supposed 
 from its early effects, another advantage over his rustic com- 
 
CHAPTER IV. — THE FA IE. 
 
 17 
 
 n beggary. Poor 
 but, neve tth( less, 
 seemingjy better 
 
 :, even wjier. JI.ss 
 neavi'ful to their 
 
 he firesides of the 
 
 ge. Still, even in 
 
 r he had no friend 
 
 s. 
 
 supplied. At the 
 
 e small estate of 
 
 I house somewhat 
 
 le proprietor hap- 
 
 I heirs to a neigh - 
 
 in consequence to 
 
 ow of a Glasgow 
 
 Jossession. 
 
 rt rattling boy of 
 
 master's school, 
 . The distance of 
 . him, as is usual 
 lis pocket at first ; 
 ■ew — an arrange- 
 Mrs Pierston was 
 
 rnly son. Thus 
 JO f Lmed but at 
 r the changes of 
 n the friendships 
 
 a seeming ascen- 
 Y the neighbours, 
 lat, by submitting 
 il affairs, he uni- 
 
 greater moment, 
 •ested concerns of 
 ve been supposed 
 
 his rustic com- 
 
 panion, lie had spent his boyhood in Glasgow, and had been 
 several years at the grammar-school of that city, before his 
 mother removed to the Woodside hou^. He was in conse- 
 quence pretty well, for his time, accomplished in many tricks. 
 He stood much less in awe of the municipal dignitaries of the 
 neighbouring towns; and accordingly, at the different fairs, to 
 which he constantly induced Andrew to accompany him, he not 
 only kept his part better among the town boys, but even w.'nt 
 further than most of them in the frolics customary on such occa- 
 sions. But although it was said of Charles that he was a per- 
 fect devil's limb, he had a generous warmth of heart, and a 
 lively good humour, that bespoke a favourable interpretation to 
 his worst and wildest stratagems.— Many an old apple- woman 
 at the fairs, however, on seeing the gowk and the titling 
 approach, (as the two boys were called,) watched their tempt- 
 ing piles of toys and delectables with gleg een, and staff grasped 
 to repel some pawkie aggression ; while, at the same time, the 
 boys were always merrily welcomed, for Charles had plenty of 
 pocket-money, and spent it freely. 
 
 If, in those excursions to the fairs, Pierston found fun and 
 frolic, Andrew reaped some experience of the world. He soon 
 saw that the money his companion spent was sufficient to set up 
 any old woman with a stand ; and the thought occurred to bun, 
 that if he could get Charles, on th« next fair day, to give his 
 money to Janet Pirn, a sly and droll old lame widow, with whose 
 :Aes and ballads they had been often entertained during the 
 winter, they might be able to pay Janet a shilling for her trouble, 
 and make a great deal of money by the speculation. The idea 
 was most delightful ; but Charles justly dreaded that if the 
 existence of the copartnery should become known to the other 
 boys, especially to those belonging to the towns, the consequences 
 would be ruinous, as Janet would assuredly be plundered with- 
 out mercy. This consideration, however, was soon got over, by 
 Andre- sayi!:^? i^at if they kept their own secret, it could never 
 be known. 
 
 Terms were accordingly proposed to J;inet, who readily 
 acceded to them; and when the Kilwini, fair-day came 
 round, she made her appearance at the corner of the bridge, 
 
 3. B 
 
18 
 
 SIE ANDREW WYLIE. 
 
 seated in an am-chair, dressed in her red cloak and black 
 Sunday bonnet, with a table before her, covered with a oil 
 secretly borrowed by ^harles fro. his Lthi:? napery-chelt 
 and temptingly adorned with a competent stock of the requisTt' 
 
 tZ7T J'^ '"^^ ^'^™"'^^« ^^^ accompaniedlne't „ 
 Irvine to buy them, and they also assisted her to set them out to 
 the best advantage. The muscalmonds were declaredTo h. l! 
 b^ as doos' eggs-the sweeties and coriandeL trof all s zS 
 and colours, intermingled with the smallest and fairest MiltZ 
 Nanse-the rock of Gibraltar was laid forth with all Vth? 
 veins particularly turned towards the view-VrrL n ak^^^^^ 
 and gingerbread watches, richly gilded -piles'of rl™ ns and of 
 
 run and the two boys, each with a stick in his hand stood 
 senunels at the ends of the table. All went on or ol tme 
 in the most prosperous way. Andrew counted the gZl ha 
 we e flowing in, and Charles enticed customers by the brlval 
 of his eulogium on the articles for sale But tL ,i; i . 
 
 heir dinner of bread and cheese, the secrft was d vu,g d til 
 she was but an agent and a hirolino- w u n "^"'e*^" ^"^t 
 
 .1 f.,r .hough, themselves ehea.ed, .„d „pe„ed an L's 1 
 
 .':*.*«,:-"-*"' '"^""- ""'" " '"«"''™' "^"^^ 
 
 L..f.uj mouths, every now unci then, roared frmn »,„ „ i- " 1 
 s.«„ds Andrew „.,vise„ .T„„e. .„ .'..^t uTtU^.^'tS;' 
 Im. Charles .nsistod she should not budge o sten- .1,1 1?,. 
 »ood a rig:,. .. sell tWngs a. the fair „s at/ottr Lo^f ^d h": 
 
CHAPTER V. — COMMON SENSE. 
 
 19 
 
 was prepared to defend it. The attack continued— the crowd 
 j gathered-eharles lost his temper, and struck a great heavy lum- 
 bering country lout that was laughing at him, over the fingers, 
 I The fellow retaliated. Some of the spectators took part with 
 Charles— a battle-royal ensued, in the midst of which the table 
 was overset, and all its treasures trodden in the mire, amidst the 
 acclamations and the clapping of hands of all the rival dealers. 
 I The two boys seeing their golden dream thus dissipated, 
 ! retired from the scene, and left those who had been involved in 
 their cause to fight the battle out. But they did not retire to 
 bewail their misfortune— they were more heroic. Charles saw 
 I and indeed felt, that he was no match for the country lad who 
 had thrashed him, but his ire did not burn the less fiercely On 
 the contrary, he went with Andrew in quest of some of their 
 school-fellows, to assist in revenging the wrong which he had 
 himself provoked. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 COMMON SENSE. 
 
 When the two boys had walked. up the street, and passed 
 
 through the gate of the masons' lodge into the churchyard, with- 
 
 out meeting with any of their companions, Andrew halted and 
 
 said, 'I Od, Charlie, I'm thinking we had as weel bide as we are 
 
 l--yon's a horned stot, in comparison to us, wha hae but banes 
 
 lo grisle— and a solid chap o' his neive would be as deadly as 
 
 ICoomy the smith's forehammer-Od, I'm no for meddling ony 
 
 [mair wi' the muckle brute." 
 
 Pierston^reprobatol the pusillanimity of this prudent senti- 
 nent, nv.<\ becamt,- more and more resoiule for revenge 
 
 "Vera weel," cried Wylie, "tak your ain gait, and get your 
 pen stcckit and your nose smash'd, and see what ye'll mak o't— 
 h pretty pirlit yc'U be; me lending you hame, blind and bleeding, 
 VI a napkin or an auld stocking tied round your head. Eh I 
 
20 
 
 SIB ANDREW WYLIE. 
 
 II 
 
 '■'i 
 
 III 
 .1} 
 
 a 
 
 • fi 
 
 what a skreighing at the sight o' you, Charlie, there will be'-, 
 
 rrdoyrbaXr""' "' ^^^^ "* ^'^^^'"^ ^^^ ^^"^^ ^- h- 
 
 " I dinna care though he were to kill me!" exclaimed Charles 
 if I had but my will o' him beforehand." 
 
 Ju ^^V^^'i' '""'"'" '^'^ ^"^'■«^' "&•" y« could but get your 
 will o hun first; but the fear is, that he may get the will o' us 
 —and what's to be done then ? " 
 
 Pierston was a little puzzled with this, and hesitating, said, 
 after a moment's reflection-" We might watch for him, and 
 
 girming" ''''"' ''' '^'^' "^^" ^^'^ ^^--^ -- ^^ 
 
 nlr' jl'^^'^'fy ^^'""S to waylay a defenceless man-Od, 
 Charlie, I thought ye had mair spunk!" replied Andrew, in per- 
 
 hUrrW''':'^^ ""ly -''•o"^ t« pacify the resentment of 
 that Pierston had learned among the youths of his own kidney 
 nLloAT™'':''^""* "^ ^''^^^''^' ""^ *^« ''"PU^d ""worthi- 
 v^Lrabttflin^;""^ ""^^^^^^^'' '''''''' ^^'^ '" ^'^ -«' 
 " What am I to do, Andrew? It's a dreadfu' thing to gi'e up 
 my f^tisfaction Look at my lug whar the brute sLck m J 
 U s birzed black and blue-deevil's in him, but I'll gar him 
 
 Andrew examined the wounded part, and declared it was just 
 a flea-bUe "It's u wee red," said he, "and before half an houA 
 by ye U ne er fin't. Man, Charlie, it's bairnly to mak sic a wark 
 for a b,t t.g on the haffet-a' ye gottin's no the tae half o' what 
 ye g,ed-for ye re a deevil at a paik, when your birses are up- 
 —1 would na come in your reverence then for something" 
 
 I icrston was flattered by the compliment to his strength and 
 valour; h.s pride was also touched at the idea of exaggerating 
 the effects of the blow he had received, which Andrew^n fac^ 
 adroitly undervalued, and he said, "As for the thumjl on the 
 side o the head, i hae thole't twenty times mair before noo'; and 
 
 frae mo." '""*'"' '^ ^ ^"^ '"'" *'' ^'"^' ^""^"^ ''' "^"^^''^ 
 
 " Ye need hae na doubt o' that, Charlie, for he got twa for 
 
 toiinv't lier re 
 
CHAPTBR V. — COMMON SENSE. 
 
 21 
 
 lane— ye ken, ye were the first aggressor, ye struck him first wi' 
 ■the stick, and he gied you but a gentle slaik wi's paw— I dinna 
 Itliink he was very wud for a' that— and then ye birl'd at him. 
 lOd ! but ye're a terrier when in a passion, Charlie — and when 
 la's considered, I think we ought to be thankfu' that we came off 
 Iwi' hale banes, and nae blood spilt." 
 
 "But the Stan' was coupit, and a' our merchandize lost— wha's 
 Ito mak up that ?" replied Pierston, fairly at a loss for a suffi- 
 Icient reason to nurse his rage any longer. 
 
 " I hae had my thoughts o' that too," said our hero, " and I 
 Ijealouse that it was nae a right thing o' us to be marrows in ony 
 Isic trade wi' cripple Janet. It was interloping wi' the auld 
 Isweetie-wives— ye saw what a stoor raise amang them when the 
 ■truth came out— there were nae ither callants at the fair keeping 
 Istands." 
 
 " That's weel frae you, Andrew," said Charles, " for it was a' 
 ■your own doing— I didna care a bawbee for the stand, and a' 
 |the profit." 
 
 " I'll mak nae denial," was Wylie's discreet answer ; " for I 
 Ikent nae better ; but I hae got insight by the upshot, and I wish 
 Ithe whole story were weel hidden; for gin that lassie Mary 
 ■Cunningham hears that we were keeping a stand, like twa 
 Isweetie-wives at the fair, she'll berry my seven senses wi' her 
 jeering— a' ye hae gotten will be naething to what I maun thole, 
 ISO let's keep a calm sough and close tongues." 
 
 Charles was now fully persuaded, not only of the propriety of 
 
 jstifling his revenge, but also convinced that they had not been 
 
 jengaged in any very honourable adventure ; and said, with some 
 
 degree of mortification and chagrin, "I hope Janet has ta'en care 
 
 o' the table-cloth, for sic a rippit there will be about it if it's 
 
 aost!" 
 
 Andrew, perceiving that he had gained a complete victory, 
 proposed that they should return to cripple Janet ; and they 
 jToiind her replacing tlic stand with such of the articles as she 
 jiad been able to pick up, selling the damaged at groat bargains 
 b the children, who, hovering round her, deplored the wreck of 
 luch delicious commodities. The moment, however, that the 
 Vowk and the titling were again seen on the spot, the auld 
 
22 
 
 SIR ANDREW W'YLIE. 
 
 lif' . 
 
 IB 
 
 I'.i", M 
 
 wives around immediately broke out on them a second time- 
 and such had been the effect of Andrew's representatLn oTl J 
 
 daunt^h 7f "/ *'"'■ ^'^P^'-*"^'-^' *h^* Charles was q^ 
 daunted by their banter, and slunk away. Our hero, however 
 was none dismayed; but with great address turned the scarin 
 their avour, by telling Janet that he and Charles gave up 
 
 IZf *^%T'^""'^''' ""'^ P'-^fi*' «» ««"dition thft she took 
 go d care of the table-cloth. Never was generosity better timed 
 
 eTlssed .rth T 'r"^ *° ""'' '^^^'^ -^'he so loudf; 
 expressed her thanks and gratitude, that the other women tn 
 
 whom the boys had been good customers on other ocrsbn^ 
 
 joined instantly in praising them to the skies, and long bS 
 
 the evemng, the gowk and the titling were in L high ^fvoufls 
 
 But the consequences of this adventure did not stop here h 
 reached the ears of Mrs Pierston, who had, indeerprevL^^^^ 
 
 Sex: f""' ^ "?f ^^ '''''^^'^^'- was'n^t eTa" 
 1, : ? "" ^°^ "^ ^^' ««"'« prospects; and Charle; 
 
 summoned "'f ?""f *"^"'' ^^'^^^ ^'' «°"*^""«J «» he was 
 summoned to London by an uncle, a great city merchant A 
 
 renewed. The difference of the spheres in which tliey moved 
 
 .o:«lod ■„,„ a ittlo gash carlio, re^rkaHe .Mo^v L f^J.^ 
 
 tdetdhZf'^^V "'',"™""^»"" S"«l humour, h,;«vel, 
 rendered Inm a famUur and pmligiou., favourite with every bodv 
 
 «ny vmblo means of rmng ,n .ho world, a conlident belief wa. 
 
 jj- . i^^iififi,}.. 
 
CHAPTER VI. — THE CONSULTATION. 
 
 23 
 
 entertained among all who knew him, that he was destined to 
 become a rich man— a great one none ever ventured to anticipate; 
 nothing indeed could be more opposite to any idea of personal 
 grandeur, than his small, short, round-headed figure, smooth 
 apple- cheeks, and little twinkling eyes. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE CONSOtTATIOW. 
 
 At the period of which we are now treating, neither the com- 
 merce nor manufactures of Scotland had risen to that height 
 which has since wrought such changes, not only in the appear- 
 ance of the country, but affecting the very depths and principles 
 of the national character. 
 
 The youth having few means of advancement, and but a nar- 
 row field of enterprise at home, sought their fortunes abroad ; 
 and good schooling, as it was called, constituted the common 
 patrimony of the Scottish adventurer. As Andrew was rendered 
 unfit by his feeble frame for the drudgery of a farmer, his grand- 
 mother, actuated in her humble sphere by the national spirit, 
 resolved to spare no cost on his education. But whether to 
 breed him for c divine, a doctor, or a lawyer, was a point not 
 easily determined. It presented even more difficulties to her 
 imagination than any apprehension which she entertained of 
 procuring the means ; for with respect to the latter, her trust in 
 the care of Providence was unbounded ; and she had heard of 
 many gospel ministers, com( of no better stock, who bravely 
 upheld the banner of the testimony, even unto the death. She 
 had also heard of doctors who had returned nabobs from India^ 
 that began as shop-boys to druggists ; and uf lawyers on the 
 freehold-roll of the county, that had commenced their career by 
 running errands for town-officers. 
 
 But as she could not determine for herself, she resolved to 
 consult the master. Accordingly, one afternoon, when the school 
 
24 
 
 SIB ANDREW WYLIE. 
 
 ■T! 
 'A 
 
 
 I'll 
 
 
 i 
 
 had been dismissed, she went to his house, and found him at his 
 tea, listening, with a faint smile that played among his features 
 like sunshine through the hedgerow, to some little comic occur- 
 rence in the village which Andrew was describing, while sitting 
 at his side as a companion, but not at that time a participatinff 
 guest. ^ * 
 
 The small room where they were seated was in the back part 
 of the school-house. Behind the door, in a recess, stood a humble 
 bed, covered with a patched and quilted coverlet, which at night 
 was carefully removed, being only used for show by day. Front- 
 ing the entrance, a mahogany scrutoire was placed, somewhat 
 of an incongruous degree of splendour, compared with the general 
 style of the apartment, and over it hung a Dutch looking-glass, 
 m a gaudy frame of flowers and gilding, a considerable margin 
 of the plate being adorned with birds and foliage painted on 
 the surface. The top of the scrutoire, under the glass, was 
 covered with a damask towel, and occupied by several volumes 
 neatly bound, a tall wine goblet, with a white spiral line up the 
 stalk, filled with flowers, and a mahogany tea-chest, with an 
 mlaid likeness of a clam-shell in front. The window was 
 between the scrutoire and the wall facing the bed. It consisted 
 of four panes, and looked into a small garden, rank with apple- 
 nngy, and other fragrant herbs and stately flowers. The sole 
 of the window was occupied with a flower-pot containing a 
 geranium, round which several books lay scattered, a shaving- 
 box, a razor-case, and a hone. Opposite to the window, and 
 near the door, stood an eight-day clock, with a black bust 
 between the volutes on the top, bearing the well-known inscrip- 
 tion of the cloud-capt towers, indicating that the image was 
 meant for Shakspeare. Between the clock and the corner, 
 Andrew and the master were sitting when his grandmother 
 entered, and she was in consequence requested to take a seat in 
 an angular elbow-chair, which occupied the corner opposite to 
 them. 
 
 "I'm come," said Martha, "to hae a crack wi' you about this 
 get. It's time n-o that he were thinking o' doing something 
 for himsel'. He's weel through his fifteen, and I would fain hae 
 an inkling gin he be o' ony capacity." 
 
CHAPTEB VI.— THE CONSULTATION. 25 
 
 Mr TannyhiU, foreseeing that the conversation would turn on 
 particulars, which might be as well discussed in Andrew's 
 absence, suggested that it would be proper for him to retire 
 
 "Ay," said his grandmother, "talc the door on your back, and 
 play yoursel' till me and the maister hae come to an understand- 
 mg. 
 
 Our hero on this hint immediately withdrew; but although 
 he took the door on his back by shutting it after him, he placed 
 himself close to it in the kitchen, from which the room entered 
 and overheard all that passed within. ' 
 
 "Poor laddie," resumed Martha, when he had retired, "he's 
 no strong; hard wark's no for him, and saft's ill to get. Noo 
 Mr Tannyhill, what's your conceit? I doubt he has nae got 
 the cast 0' grace needful to a gospel-minister. James Sinney, 
 the droggest in Kilwinning, would tak him for a word o' my 
 mouth, if ye thought he's o' a physical turn; and John Gledd 
 the messenger, wha was sib to his mother, ance promised as 
 muckle; but I canna say I hae ony broo o' the law, for it's a 
 deadly distemper amang friens ; and Andra, though baith pawkie 
 and slee, is a warm-hearted creature, and would be o'er scrimp 
 m^the severities of justice, especially in pleas amang kith and 
 
 The master replied, that, of all the learned professions, he 
 really thought Wheelie was best disposed by nature for the law 
 for although," said he, "the craw thinks its ain bird the whit-' 
 est, ye're no, Martha, sae misled by your aflfection, as to ima- 
 gine that Andrew's qualified to make a soun' frae the pulpit- 
 and no«-a-days, even if he were, a' things o' religion hae settled 
 :nto a method, that gies the patronless preacher but little chance 
 a kirk. Wi your oye's ordinar looks, I fear, though he were 
 to grow as earned as Matthew Henry himsel', he would hae but 
 a cauld coal to blaw at." 
 
 .n^'^t' *^',^'^''*"'^ ^«"''«' Mr Tannyhill, I think they're weel 
 eneuffh. There may be brawer, hut a hantle arc fur waur" 
 said Martha a little tartly; "howsomever, if it's your notion 
 that he wouldna make a sincere divine, I would rather see him 
 gaun about the farms wi' Thomas Steck, the tailor, clouting at 
 saxpence a-day, than walking the dyke-sides between hope and 
 
26 
 
 SIB ANDREW WYLIE. 
 
 pi 
 
 m 
 
 u 
 
 m 
 
 m 
 
 Ml 
 
 i^"', 
 
 
 Starvation, wi' a thin white face, and his forefinger atween the 
 leaves o' some auld kittle Latin buke." 
 
 " Your description o' a luckless probationer," said the master 
 with a sigh, "is ower true. It's a state without pleasure to the 
 man himsel', and a sorrow to a' that see him. I would be wae 
 to think that Andrew's blithe spirit was quenched wi' the tear 
 of mortification; and therefore, Martha, if ye would follow my 
 advice, a' I can say is, let him choose between Mr Sinney and 
 John Gledd. 
 
 " I jealouse, sir," replied Martha, "that he has but a sma' 
 stomach for the drog trade, and I fancy he'll tak to the law." 
 
 "In that," said Mr Tannyhill, "I doubt not, wi' a portion of 
 perseverance, he may grow a topping character. I hae seen at 
 Edinburgh, when I was at the College, advocates proudly before 
 the Courts, that could reckon no higher parentage. He has 
 only to join care to industry, and, by a decent use o' the means 
 that Providence may place in his power, I have no doubt he'll 
 reap both riches and honour." 
 
 While Martha was thus drawing out, in the pursuit of her 
 object, the latent and slumbering mind of the master, our hero 
 was listening with a throbbing heart. At the mention of the 
 ministry, a dim vision floated before him, in which the fair form 
 of Mary Cunningham was blended with the interior of a church, 
 and the remembrance of fifty psalms. It was, however, but the 
 passionless association of feelings and recollections that dissolved 
 away, and was lost in disagreeable images of the green and yel- 
 low gallipots, sores and salves, odious stuffs and bottled reptiles, 
 with which the name of James Sinney, the druggist, was asso- 
 ciated. The chances, by prudence and industry, of attaining 
 riches and honours through the legal profession, determined his 
 choice; and he put an end to the consultation by opening the 
 door, and looking in, at the same time saying, " I'm for John 
 Gledd's, grannie." 
 
CHAPTER VII. — TILE OUTFIT. 
 
 27 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE OUTFIT. 
 
 There are few things in the world more wonderful to philo- 
 sophy than the means by which the honest poor of Scotland are 
 enabled, from day to day, with light hearts, strong arms, and 
 brave spirits, to face the ills of life with what they call " sma' 
 families"— that is, at least half-a-dozen children. But their 
 general condition is comparative opulence to what was the lot of 
 old Martha Docken ; and yet she was one of a class that would 
 have spurned the gifts of charity— of that class to whom the 
 country still points with pride, and we hope long will, in spite 
 of all the improvements in agriculture, manufactures, and com- 
 merce; 
 
 As soon as it was determined that Andrew should be sent to 
 John Gledd's, the writer, to learn the law, various important 
 considerations required to be well weighed by liis grandmother. 
 In the first place, John lived in Kilwinning, a town three miles 
 at least from Stoneyholm ; and in the second, according to cus- 
 tom, it was requisite that Andrew, as a lawyer's clerk, should be 
 a little better dressed than formerly; although Martha assured 
 him that the ragged coat o' the callant was ne'er a mot in the 
 man's marriage. 
 
 In a long prospective contemplation of the era which had 
 now arrived, Martha had carefully preserved the Sunday clothes 
 of his father ; but in order to fit him, they required considerable 
 alterations, and a consultation was held with Thomas Steek, the 
 tailor, on the subject, the result of which was, that on a day set 
 for the purpose, Thomas, with his laddie, Clipping Jock, arrived 
 betimes at Martha's cottage-door, with all the requisite imple- 
 ments of their profession. The tailor himself, being a lamiter, 
 with a drawn-up leg, and using a stilt, carried the shears in hh 
 left hand ; and Jock, a little hump-backed creature, brought the 
 goose behind him, bearing the law-board over his shoulder. By 
 their art and contrivance, Andrew was properly equipped to take 
 his place at John Gledd's desk— John having, on the first appli- 
 
28 
 
 SIB ANDBEW WYLIE. 
 
 I! 
 If 
 
 mi 
 
 t' 
 'I 
 
 cation, immediately agreed to lighten Marthas hand of the boy • 
 for however strict in the harsh offices of caption and homing,' 
 he had the friendly spirit of the poor man among the poor, and 
 was ever ready, to the utmost stretch of his narrow means, to 
 help a neighbour in need. 
 
 The day fixed for our hero to enter th: world by the clachan 
 of Kilwinning, was the first Monday of May. On the Sunday 
 before, he made his appearance at church in his new garb. 
 
 As the young bird lingers about the nest, and is timid and 
 reluctant to trust its untried wing, the fincy of th<5 schoolboy, 
 when he is on the point of first leaving home, hovers amidst the 
 scenes of his childhood, and wistfully looks back on a thousand 
 little objects which, till then, he had never thought were dear to 
 hmi. In the calm still evening of that Sabbath, this sentiment 
 pervaded the bosom of our youthful adventurer, insomuch that, 
 when the master invited him, as a testimony of his • »-ard to 
 take tea with him, he declined it, saying, "I am vera'mickle 
 obliged, sir ; but I'm thinking o' just taking a dauner round the 
 Craigland parks." 
 
 The good and simple Tannyhill was so deeply sensible of t^e 
 feeling which dictated this refusal, that he said nothing, but 
 followed Andrew with his eye, as he sav- him moving awf.y 
 towards the fields. " That laddie," said he, to one of the neigh- 
 hours who happened at the time to come up, "has mair in him 
 than we gie him credit for. I wouldna be surprised to hear of 
 him being something yet." 
 
 Andrew, after parting from the master, strayed into the 
 Craigland plantations, and kept his course along a path that 
 ran beneath the south side of the garden wall attached to the 
 mansion-house, until he had entered the ancient policy of the 
 domain. 
 
 Every thin^^ about the Craiglands betokened the disposition 
 ot the laird. The house was large, and built at different times. 
 About eighty years before, an addition had been made, in such 
 a manner as to convert the end of tlie original mansion, or for- 
 tahee, into the principal front; by which a fine old avenue of 
 plane-trees was thrown, as it were, aside, and another approach 
 was formed towards the new front, which looked into what in 
 
CHAPTER VII. — THE OUTFIT. 
 
 29 
 
 the improver's time, had been an incloM,! parterre, or flower- 
 garden-a low hewn-stone wall, with square columns at inter- 
 vals, surrounding the same; in the front of which, and at each 
 side, was a gateway, formed by stately square pillars, crowned 
 with sculptured pine-apples. The plan and architecture, though 
 m a formal, were certainly in something of a grand style, if not 
 in a good taste; but all was in a .^tate of ruinous neglect— the par- 
 terre was overgrown with weeds-vast bunches of nettles and 
 docks filled the comers, and rose above tho inclosing waU— the 
 pine-apple heads of several of the pillars lay among them as 
 they had fallen-and washing-tub.% and coals, and peats, were 
 piled against the house, under tlip very windows of the dining- 
 room. But if the mansion and grounds were neglected the 
 woods suffered little from sharing the same carelessness. The 
 trees, left to themselves, had grown into every possible shape of 
 picturesque luxuriance; and fortunately both for the admirer 
 of the spot and the heir, the laird would not sufifer them to be 
 taucned, and, in consequence, the Craigland groves were among 
 the most beautiful in the west of Scotland. 
 
 As Andrew sauntered alone into the checkered gloom of 
 those old avenues, the hopes of his young imagination, in some 
 degree, partook of the sober colouring that Avas settling on the 
 distant vista of the landscape beyond, as the evening twilight 
 gradually faded. He was still, it is true, a mere boy, but he • 
 was entering on that epoch of life when all the affectionate feel- 
 ings of the bosom begin to concentrate into passion; and for 
 some time, by the gradual removal of his school-fellows, he had 
 been, in a manner, left alone in the village-a situation cal- 
 culated to nourish his sensibility for the beauties of nature. 
 
 At the bottom of the avenue ran a small stream, over which 
 m the gayer dr.ys of the Craiglands, a wooden bridge had been 
 thrown; l,ut it was long destroyed, and a plank supplied its 
 place.^ On this plank Andrew seated himself, and for some 
 time, m idleness continued turning the pebbles with his toe in 
 the channel. Mary Cunningham, who was out walking with 
 one of the maids, happened, in returning home, to see him; and 
 stepping softly up behind him, covered his eyes suddenly with 
 her hands-«It'syou, Mary!" cried he instinctively; and the 
 
30 
 
 8IE ANDRKW WYLIE. 
 
 
 km 
 
 lively girl, unclosing his eyes, began to laugh and jeer at his 
 new appearance. " You may tak your fill o't the night, Mary," 
 said he, -'but it winna be lang ye'll hae't in your power." 
 ^'p:h!" cri?d Mary, seriously, "whar are ye garni?" 
 "I'm boun' the morn's morning to John Gledd's, in Kilwin- 
 ning." 
 
 "And what are ye to do there, Wheelie?" 
 
 "I'm thinking o' making a forton." 
 
 .V this time the maid had joined them, and she interposed 
 laughingly, saying, "And when he's a grand man, he'll come 
 and marry you, Miss Mary." 
 
 "Oh, that will be sic a while!" said Mary. 
 ^ What more might have ensued, we cannot presume to con- 
 jecture; but the conversation was interrupted by the shrill voice 
 of Miss Mizy, heard echoing from within the garden, "Mary 
 Cunningham, whar are ye? Come into the house, and tak your 
 book immediently;" at the sound of which Mary skipped away, 
 followed by the maid; and Andrew, rising from the bridge, re- 
 turned home to his grandmother's cottage. 
 
 I 
 
 ; t 
 
 I' -f t. 
 
 ■ i 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 CHAK0E8. 
 
 Soon after this little incident, a lease of one of the Craigland 
 farms fell m; and the augmentation which the laird received in 
 the rent at the renewal, fully justified his sister. Miss Mizy, to 
 urge him to send Mary, as he had originally designed, to an 
 Ldinburgh boarding-school, to learn genteel manners, and how 
 to sew satin-pieces and play on the spinnet-the indispensable 
 accomplishments at that period of an Avrshir« Inird'^ ^.urr-ht-v 
 and we do not know that any essentiarimprovement has%een 
 made in the order of their education since. 
 
 By this arrangement, Andrew, during his apprenticeship with 
 the messenger, saw Mary no more. Meanwhile, his assiduity 
 
CHAPTER VIII, — CHANGES. 
 
 81 
 
 at the desk was quite exemplary, as well ad the determination 
 with which he was actuated to acquire a knowledge of his pro- 
 f.ssion— if knowledge it might be called of the law, which con- 
 sisted merely in being able to copy with fidelity that circuitous 
 and perplexing verbosity, which is professedly intended to be 
 clearer and plainer than the language of common sense. He 
 was also distinguished from all the lads of his own age, for the 
 preference which he gave to the knacky conversation of old and 
 original characters. It signified not to him, whether the parties, 
 with whom he enjoyed his leisure, were deemed douce or daft ; 
 it was enough that their talk was cast in queer phrases, and their 
 mindi, ran among the odds and ends of things. By this pecu- 
 liar humour, he was preserved in his clachan simplicity; while 
 he made, as he often afterwards said himself, "his memory, like 
 a wisdom-pock, a fouth of auld knick-knacketies— clues of ex- 
 perience, and shapings of matter, that might serve to clout the 
 rents in the knees and elbows o' straits and difficulties." 
 
 An event, however, happened, which changed the prr^^peclj of 
 his professional career. John Gledd had a shock of the palsy 
 and was obliged to give up his business, by which Andrew was 
 thrown on the world. He had, however, begun to acquire some 
 confidence in himself; and this event did not so much depress 
 him on his own account, as on that of his master. He had also by 
 this time some suspicion that Kilwinning was not exactly the best 
 place for becoming that grand man he was determined to be. 
 
 The illness of John Gledd, therefore, decided his fate and 
 fortune. At first it was proposed, as he had got the pen of a 
 ready writer, that he should try to obtain a place in the clerk's 
 chamber of Irvine or Ayr, from which, like others of the legal 
 fry, he might in time migrate to Edinburgh for a season, and 
 then come back to Kilwinning, and endeavour to gather custom 
 among the cUents of his old master. But, after much delibera- 
 tion, it was agreed between him and his grandmother that he 
 should " try his luek in London, that great city." 
 
 This apparently singular and bold resolution occurred to 
 Martha, from the great good fortune that had attended a niece 
 ot her own who was settled there. The young woman had gone 
 to the metropolis as a servant with the Eaglesham family, and 
 
32 
 
 SIR ANDREW WTLIE. 
 
 had the good-luck to attract the affections of Mr Ipsey, an old 
 solicitor of high reputation and great connexions, and who 
 finding he could not obtain her love on easier terras, had the 
 good sense to make her his wife. Between Martha and her 
 kinswoman no literary correspondence subsisted ; but from time 
 to time they heard of each other, and the old woman rejoiced 
 at the prosperity of her niece, but without thinking, till John 
 Gledd's misfortune, that it would ever be of any avail to her 
 grandson. That event, however, directed her eyes towards Mrs 
 Ipsey, and it was determined to solicit her influence with her 
 husband on our hero's behalf. A letter was accordingly written 
 by Andrew to that effect ; and, by return of the post, a kind and 
 considerate reply was received, honourable alike to Mrs Ipsey's 
 spirit as a Scotchwoman, and to her husband's generosity as an 
 Englishmovi. She informed Martha that Mr Ipsey had retired 
 from business several years ; but that his successor, Mr Vellum, 
 would receive Andrew, whenever it was convenient for him to 
 come to London ; and that, as his outfit would probably cost more 
 than her aunt could well aftbrd, she inclosed a bill for twenty 
 pounds, not as a gift, but as a loan, to be repaid by Andrew 
 whenever he could do so. 
 
 _ The receipt of this friendly and considerate letter was an aus- 
 picious omen, that every one in Stoneyholm regarded as a sure 
 token of something grand in the future fortunes of Andrew; 
 and to none did it give more pleasure than to the master, whom 
 our hero himself was the first to inform of his great good-luck. 
 "I'm glad to hear it, Wheelie," said the kind and good Tan- 
 nyhill; "but neither in this, nor in any thing else, be either 
 overly lifted up, or cast down. Take some honest and honour- 
 able purpose in your mind, and make all your endeavours bend 
 to the attainment thereof; by that ye'll not only get forward in 
 life, but your steps will be steady and respected, though your 
 passaging be slow. But, my bairn, set not your thought on 
 riches as an end, but only as a means, for somethinsr mora 
 solid to yoursel', and pleasing in the sight of Ilim, wlio,1n this 
 favour, has given you erlis of the servitude he claims from you 
 —the which is to be kindly and generous, but neither to be in- 
 considerate nor lavish." 
 
CHAPTER IX. — PREPAEATIONS. 33 
 
 Andrew was fully sensible of the force of this advice ; and 
 perhaps he was the more impressed with its practicable wisdom, 
 inasmuch, ^tS it was in unison with the natural and habitual 
 course of his own reflections. For although he was not a Sir 
 Isaac Newton, to reason in his boyhood about any thing so well, 
 as that philosopher's meditations on the cause which occasioned 
 the fall of an apple, he was nevertheless, in his way, endowed 
 with a peculiar genius, and had formed, even at this early 
 period, a scheme of life and conduct, in which he was resolved 
 to persevere. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 PRErAUATIONS. 
 
 iiniy more 
 
 In some respects, the parish of Stoneyholra was, at the period 
 of Andrew's departure, not so fortunate in its pastor as its 
 neighbour Dalmailing, of which the meek and pious Mr Bal- 
 whidder was then the incumbent; nor could it even be com- 
 pared with the well-watered vineyard of Garnock, where the 
 much-celebrated Doctor Zachariah Pringle had, some years 
 before, been appointed helper and successor. For the reverend 
 Doctor Dozadeal was a town -bred clergyman; and having been 
 a tutor in the family of an Edinburgh advocate, had of course 
 more genteel manners, and less warmth of heart, than is usually 
 found among the genuine presbyters of the Scottish church. 
 
 In his address he was dry and grave, and measured out his 
 sentences as apothegms of impressive wisdom. He preferred 
 the formal dinners of the heritors to the sick-beds of the low- 
 lier members of his flock. This was natural; but he also 
 studied, it wr,? alleged, a little tr>r> earv.estly, the ndvaneement 
 of his interests in this world; and it was understood that he hud 
 only accepted the cure of the parish, in the hope, and under the 
 promise, of one more suited to his habits. He took no pains to 
 ingratiate himself with his parishioners — he knew few of thera 
 
 3. Q 
 
34 
 
 SIR AMDBEW WTLIB. 
 
 IIk, 
 
 111 
 
 II 
 
 I 
 
 by name, and they seldom troubled him with their little cares 
 and anxieties; the tempering of which, by advice and consola- 
 tion, is perhaps the best, as it is the most amiable, of aU a pas- 
 tor's duties. His deportment and manners were, however, 
 spotless and irreproachable; and the habitual respect with 
 which the Scottish peasantry regard their ministers, secured him 
 all the external deference that is commonly paid by the people, 
 to a character which religion, tradition, and patriotism, have 
 hallowed to the national affections. 
 
 To a being constituted with the peculiar humours of our 
 hero, such a man as Doctor Dozadeal could not fail to appear in 
 the most unfavourable light. The whole of the framed and 
 set up manners which the doctor had assumed, as particularly 
 dignified, were disagreeable to Andrew; and his shrewdness de- 
 tected, beneath the solemn cloak of his consequentiality, a char- 
 acter which, on account of its own endowments and merits, was 
 really entitled to no extraordinary respect. Instead, therefore, 
 of being impressed with those sentiments of awe and admira- 
 tion, which the doctor constantly, on all occasions, endeavoured 
 to inspire, and which, from a few of the parishioners, he cer- 
 tainly sometimes obtained, Andrew was in the practice, even 
 before he went to John Gledd's, of mocking his pomposity; and 
 this irreverent disposition was none weakened at the time when 
 the preparations were making for his departure for London. 
 His grandmother, however, deemed it necessary that he should 
 pay the doctor a formal visit prior to his departure, in order 
 to receive his advice, according to a good old custom that 
 had prevailed from time immemorial; and which will ever 
 be preserved while the intercourse between the minister and 
 his parishioners is maintained on true Christian and presby- 
 terian principles. The doctor himself would, perhaps, have 
 been as willing as our hero to have dispensed with the perfor- 
 mance of this ancient homage, at least if we may judge by 
 the result. 
 
 Andrew crept slowly and reluctantly to the manse door, and 
 on asking for the minister, was shown into the parlour, where the 
 doctor was sitting at a table, slumbering in his elbow-chair. A 
 new book, with a few of the early leaves cut, lay before him ; 
 
little cares 
 id consola- 
 F all a pas- 
 , however, 
 spect with 
 ecured him 
 the people, 
 »tism, have 
 
 urs of our 
 ) appear in 
 •amed and 
 articularly 
 ivdness de- 
 ty, a char- 
 nerits, was 
 therefore, 
 d admira- 
 deavoured 
 s>, he cer- 
 Jtice, even 
 osity; and 
 ime w^hen 
 ' London, 
 he should 
 , in order 
 torn that 
 will ever 
 ister and 
 I presby- 
 ips, have 
 e perfor- 
 judgo by 
 
 loor, and 
 vhere the 
 hair. A 
 are him ; 
 
 CHAPTER IX. — PBEPAEATIONS. 
 
 35 
 
 and an ivory folder, which had dropped from his hand, was 
 lying on the floor at his foot. 
 
 His age might be near fifty : in his person he was inclined to 
 corpulency ; and there was a certain degree of sallow lethargy 
 in the cast and complexion of his features, the effect of habitual, 
 rather than of constitutional, indolence. 
 
 Like most country clergymen in the forenoon, he was slovenly 
 dressed. His breeches' knees were only half-buttoned, his 
 stockings ill drawn up, his shoes unfastened and down in the 
 heel, his neckcloth lax and dirty, and his whole appearance 
 betokening a man little liable to be disturbed by visiters. 
 
 Andrew, on entering the room, made a bob with his head for 
 a bow, and stood for about a minute swinging his hat in his 
 hand, and looking round the walls and towards the ceiling, 
 casting a momentary glance towards the doctor, who, roused by 
 his entrance, seemed to wait in expectation of some communi- 
 cation ; seeing, however, that Andrew was not inclined to speak, 
 the doctor said, " Well, Andrew, what is your business with 
 me?" 
 
 " My grannie sent me to tell you, sir, that I'm gaun to London 
 to learn the law there"— was the reply, uttered at, but not to, the 
 doctor ; for by tliis time his eyes had settled on the dial-plate of 
 the minister's watch, which hung over the mantelpiece. 
 
 " And when do you go ? " inquired the doctor. 
 
 " As soon as my grannie can get my bit pack o' duds ready," 
 said Andrew, in the same careless and awkward manner. The 
 doctor then requested liim to sit down, and Andrew seated himself 
 on the chair nearest the door. 
 
 " I hope," said the minister, " you will do your endeavour to 
 give satisfaction to your employers." 
 
 " An I dinna do that, what will come o' meP" was the an- 
 swer. 
 
 . " You must study to acquire respectful manners, and to boliave 
 properly towards your superiors." Andrew made no reply to 
 this ; but raising his eyes, which, on taking hia scat, he had cast 
 downward, he looki-d for a moment at the doctor, who conti- 
 nued, " for you must have uftcn heard it remarked, that a man's 
 manners commonly make his fortune." 
 
li.' 
 
 36 
 
 SIR ANDREW WTLIE. 
 
 ^lii 
 
 
 Ul 
 
 i! i 
 
 El 1 {(( 
 14 >ti 
 
 I 
 
 " Atweel I should ken that," said Andrew, in the most in- 
 different manner ; " for it Avas aye the first copy-line that the 
 raaister s?t, when he put us in sma' write." 
 
 The doctor's countenance was a little troubled by this reply, 
 not only on account of the words, but the manner in which it 
 was said ; and he rosuraed with an accent somewhat approaching 
 to severity — 
 
 " I have heard that ycu have good friends to take you by the 
 hand in London, and it is well you are so fortunate ; for I doubt, 
 young man, you ivill need all their assistance." 
 
 The cheeks of Andrew flushed for a moment at this observa- 
 tion, and he again darted a glance from under his brows towards 
 the doctor, who continued speaking, his voice gradually rising 
 intc the tone of a lectui-e. 
 
 " Hitherto you have been but on the threshold of the world, 
 and you have experienced^one of its difficulties ; you will find 
 now that mankind are, in general, an unfriendly race, and that 
 in London they are very different from your rustic friends here 
 in Stoncyholm. There the successful look proudly down on 
 the poor, bestriding the path, to prevent new candidates from 
 sharing with them the vantage ground of fortune." 
 
 'I Gin they'll no let me by, I maun try to run through aneath 
 their legs," said Andrew, interrupting the oration with a sly 
 indifferency, which effectually disconcerted the reverend doctor, 
 who, taking up the book from the table, said, in a tone equiva- 
 lent to a dismissal, " I wish you, young man, all manner of 
 success, and that the blessing of heaven may prosper you'* un- 
 dertakings." 
 
 " I'm very mlckle obliged to you," replied Andrew drily ; and 
 opening the door at the same time, bobbed his head as carelessly 
 as when he entered, and immediately retired. 
 
 " What did tlie minister say to you ?" enquired Martha, when 
 Andrew went home a little sulkily. 
 
 " I fancy ho jriod me his bonison," -aid Andrew. " Rut I'm 
 thinking he's no that weel versed in the folk o' London, mair 
 than nysel' ; for he would Ime gart me trow that they hae horns 
 
 on their heiul to dish the like 
 
 us when doon. For a' that, I'm no fear't 
 
 o' me and hooves to tread upon 
 
CHAPTER X.— DEPAKTUBE. 
 
 37 
 
 During the short remainder of the time he spent at Stonev- 
 holm, he seemed, as the period of his departure drew near to 
 attach himself more and more to the different gaffers and goodies 
 of the village, and to enjoy their peculiarities with a keener relish 
 than ever. His little attentions, in this respect, gave a degree of 
 eclat to the event of his removal, which could hardly have been 
 expected to attend the transit of one so young and so slenderly 
 connected in the parish. On the evening immediately before he 
 set out on his journey, a number of the farmer lads who had been 
 at the master's school with him, came in to the clachan to bid 
 him farewell, and a little dance was, in consequence, struck up 
 m Saunders Chappin's public. With the friendliness and the 
 good-humour of the party he was evidently much delighted ; but 
 an old man, who happened to look in upon the ploy, said, " that 
 Wheelie took it a' as ane of some degree"— a remark which was 
 afterwards remembered, much to the credit of the sagacious 
 observer, and which, although there could be as yet no par- 
 ticular change in Andrew's demeanour, would imply that he felt 
 himself no longer belonging to the same class as his youthful 
 associates. It is for philosophers, however, to assign the proper 
 source of that which the village sage so early discovered as an 
 omen of success. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 DEPARTURE, 
 
 In the morning on which our hero was to bid a long adieu to 
 his native village, he was awake and stirring with the lark. It 
 was the eye of summer, and the weather was clear and b.'auti- 
 ful.^ The smoke rose from his grandmother's chimney as 
 straight as a column, and stood over it like a high-spreading 
 tree, long before the symptoms of housewifery appeared in any 
 other cottage in the hamlet ; for the Glasgow carrier was to pa^s 
 at sunrise, and Andrew was requested to be in readiness by that 
 
38 
 
 SIE ANDREW WYLIEi. 
 
 un 
 
 I 
 
 time to go with him. When the carrier stopped to call him, he 
 came instantly out alone, with his box on his shoulder, and the 
 door was immediately closed behind; no one saw Martha till 
 long after he was out of sight. The master, who was abroad to 
 convoy him a part on his way^ was the first who visited her, 
 and he found her sitting with the Bible on her knee, wiping her 
 spectacles : there were drops on the page, which showed what 
 had dimmed the glasses. 
 
 In going along the road, several of the lads with whom Andrew 
 had spent the preceding evening, were standing at the end of 
 the loans which led to the farms where they were as herds or as 
 ploughmen, and they blithely shook hands with him as he passed, 
 hoping he would return with gold in goupens. But the cart 
 soon drove beyond the limits of : e circle which contained all 
 his school-fellows, and reached the head of a rising ground, 
 where, the road diverging behind the hills, Stoneyholm, and the 
 woods and fields of the Craiglands, are hidden from the view. 
 At this spot our young adventurer paused, and looked back ; no 
 presentiment of evil overcast his hopes at that moment, but a 
 number of gay and cheerful recollections endeared the scene to 
 him, and he said to the carrier, " It's a blithesome place yon, 
 and I'm thinking it may be a while before I'll see sic bonny 
 trees and green braes as the woods and lands o' the Craiglands." 
 
 After this, he continued to walk beside the carrier for some 
 time in silence; and, indeed, nothing is remembered of the re- 
 maindc of his journey to Glasgow, nor did he himself recollect 
 any thing he passed, till the High Church steeples were in sight, 
 which the carrier pointed out, by touching him on the back ; 
 for he was then seated on the cart, and had been for some time 
 in a state cf drowsy reverie, that seemed almost like sleep. 
 
 At Glasgow he was conducted to his relation, Mr Treddles, 
 the manufacturer. It was about three o'clock when he arrived 
 at the house ; and as the worthy fabricator of muslins told our- 
 selves at the last circuit, "there never was surely a droller like 
 thummert o' a creature seen entering a biggit land. He had on 
 a pair o' dark-blue pat-dyed rig-and-fnr muckle-whecl worsted 
 stockings, though it was a day that dogs lay panting wi' their 
 tongues out, and his coat was cut wi' an eye to a considerable 
 
CHAPTER X. DEPARTURE. 
 
 39 
 
 increase baith in his bulk and stature. We were just gaun to 
 tak our kail, and the gudewife bade Andrew sit in and par- 
 take, but he said, — 'Od, Mistress Treddles, ye're far in the day 
 wi' your meal-time, I thought ye would hae had that o'er by 
 twal hours, and as I hae ate the piece on the road that grannie 
 gied me, I'm no that ready yet for ony mair— so wi' your will, 
 I'll e'en gae out and look at the ferlies and uncos o' Glasgow.' 
 
 "Wi' that," quo' Mr Treddles, "he whiskit like a whitteret 
 out o' the door, and we saw naething o' him till mair tlian twa 
 hours after, when he came home, and just confounded us, for he 
 had been to see King William, and was up at the Hie Kirk — 
 I'll never forget the laugh we got, at what he said o' the college. 
 It's been a sprose amang us ever sin syne. 'Heh!' quo' he, 
 'but yen's a gruesome like place; the very winnocs are like the 
 peering een and bent brows of auld Philsophorum.' 
 
 "It happened that night," continued the manufacturer in his 
 narration, "that we had some neighbours in to their tea, and the 
 mistress had provided short-bread and seed-cake, wi' some o' 
 her jelly and marmolet, according to the use and wont o' such 
 occasions. When the tea was filled out, our friend drew in his 
 chair to the table, and wasna slack either wi' teeth or claw on 
 the dainties. 'Ye seem to like that kind o' bread, Andrew,' said 
 the mistress. 'Atweel,' quo' he, 'it's no ill to tak,' and wi' tliat 
 he continued to work awa' at it wi' the greatest industry ; c id 
 when he was satisfied, he set back his chair, and took the 
 chumla-lug, in afore Mrs M'Vicar, the major's widow, a per- 
 jink elderly woman, that never forgot it, till about nine o'clock, 
 when he rose, and lifting one of the candles, said, 'Mistress 
 Treddles, I'll awa to my bed; for I maun be up to get the Edin- 
 burgh carrier the morn's morning by skreigh o' day — Whar am 
 I to tuddle?' — I thought we would have a' deet at this. But 
 when the lass took him wi' another light to the strangers' room 
 Mr Plank, that was o' the company, a deep and observant man 
 said, 'Yon lad's no to be laugh'd at=Ho'll learn mair havins 
 belyve; and if he pursues his ain end wi' honesty, and as little 
 in the awe o' the world as he seems to feel at present, he'll 
 thrive in London, or ony other place wherein liis lot may be 
 cast.'" 
 
10 
 
 SIR ANDREW WYI,IE. 
 
 ,11 
 
 m 
 
 ' r" 
 
 By this account, it would really seem that Andrew, in his 
 outset, had produced a sensation even in Glasgow. It was 
 certainly, however, not such as would have led any one to sup- 
 pose he would ever become a favourite with the elegant and 
 fashionable. 
 
 ^ On the following morning, as he said himself, by " the skreigh 
 day" he was mounted with his "pack of duds" on the top of 
 one of the Edinburgh carts; and in due time, in the afternoon, 
 reached Lmhthgow, where the carriers stopped. " Lithgow for 
 wells, and Glasgow for bells," is a saying that few school-boys 
 m Scotland have not heard ; and Andrew was deeply versed in 
 those honourable traditions which exalt the affections of Scottish 
 patriotism so highly, that, even with the eyes of manhood, .he 
 Scotchman is rarely to be found, who, with all that travel and 
 experience teach to the contrary, will not contend for the supe- 
 riority of the national monuments of his native land — to sav 
 nothing whatever of the superior excellence of her institutions. 
 In Andrew this partiality was deeply impressed; and, with 
 mingled sentiments of admiration and sorrow, he contemplated 
 the ruins of the royal palace, and inspected the dilapidated foun- 
 tains which gave rise to the rhyme quoted. Linlithgow, in its 
 day, was the Versailles of Scotland; and the court, which resided 
 there prior to the Reformation, was justly esteemed at the time 
 one of the gayest in Europe. Ilolyrood and Stirling stand 
 more dignified in the prejudices of the country, by tales of dark 
 conspiracies and bold adventures; but the courtesie. of chi- 
 valry and song are associated with Linlithgow. 
 
 While Andrew was hovering round the skirts of the Palace 
 an old woman who happened at the time to be passing, with a 
 iarge key and a smaller tied to it, dangling in her hand, said, 
 
 'l\ ^^P.' .""""^ y^^ ^^^ t« ««« the Queer and the King's 
 seat ? This was a temptation that Andrew was not then in a 
 humour to resist ; but before indulging himself, he inquired what 
 the sight would cost. 
 
 ^'' Ye maun gie me twopence, I'se warrant," said the woman. 
 Deed no, lucky, replied Andrew; "fools and their siller 
 are soon parted. I'll gie you twal pennies gin ye like to tak it 
 and ye had better do; for I'm gaun out o' the kintra, and ye' 
 
CHAPTER XI. — EDINBURGH. 
 
 41 
 
 hae nae chance to get cither plack or bawbee frae me a' yoar 
 days." 
 
 After some altercation Andrew was admitted, and sat himself 
 in the very seat where the gallant and unfortunate James of 
 Flodden field used to hear mass ; and he saw also, with as sin- 
 cere a faith in the truth of the story as any boy of his age did in 
 the age when it happened, the chapel-aisle, where the apparition 
 of St Andrew warned the King from that fatal campaign, which 
 the muses of Scotland have never ceased to deplore, and never 
 more impressively than in our own time, converting, as it were, 
 by a beautiful alchemy, the memory of national disgrace and 
 misfortunes into motives of national pride, that tend to add 
 vigour to the energies of patriotism. 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 EDIXDUROH. 
 
 The feelings with wliich the relics of regal grandeur at Lin- 
 lithgow had inspired our hero were greatly augmented, when, 
 at an early hour next day, he beheld the Castle of Edinburgh 
 rising above the mists that floated round its rocky base. But 
 instead of indulging his curiosity when he reached the carrier's 
 (luarters, he immediately engaged a porter to carry his box, and 
 to conduct him to Leith, where he was that day to embark in a 
 Londop trader. Fortunately, the vessel was not to sail till the 
 evening, and this allowed him several hours to inspect the curio- 
 sities of the city. The porter who had carried his trunk, on 
 understanding his intention, offered his services, but they were 
 declined ; and for two reasons, the principal of which was, that 
 he would expect payment for his pains ; and the other, because 
 he was a Ilighlandman, that thought Macallam More a greater 
 man than Nebuchadnezzar. 
 
 Considering Andrew's intuitive perception of character, it is 
 not probable from this opinion, for we ([uote his own words, that 
 
42 
 
 SIB ANDHEW WYLIE. 
 
 % 
 
 he sustained any loss by refusing the Highlander's guidance- 
 but m V siting the different parts of the Old To>/n, the Castle' 
 and Holyrood-house, he sometimes wandered; and as the Edin- 
 burgh boys are not less inclined to mischief than their contem- 
 poraries elsewhere, his enquiries were not always answered with 
 a strict adherence to truth, or the most benevolent wish to set him 
 m the right. However, he nevertheless contrived to see all the 
 most remarkable objects to which history has attached any im- 
 portance; and having satisfied himself in that respect, he dined 
 on "parliaments" and "quality," by which he both saved money 
 and time, for he ate his dinner as he walked along. 
 
 As the time approached when it was requisite he should eo 
 back again to Leith, he met two ladies; one of them was a taU 
 elegant girl, with a sprightly fashionable air; the other, con- 
 siderably older, and of a more sedate demeanour. It was Mary 
 Cunningham, and one of the governesses of the boarding-school 
 where she had so long been. 
 
 "Wheelie!" exclaimed Mary with delight, the moment she 
 saw him, "what's brought you here?" 
 
 Andrew for an instant stood aghast, to be so addressed by a 
 lady so fine and fashionable; but seeing who it was, recovered 
 himself, as it were, with an elastic bound, and said, in his familiar 
 manner, "I cam frae the Stoneyholm to Glasgow on Johnny 
 Gottera s cart, and syne here wi' the Edinburgh carrier " 
 
 "Did ye ever see such a modiwart like thing?" said Mary 
 laughingly, turning to the governess ; " but he's as pawkie as a 
 Jairy. Can ye say a' your fifty psalms yet, Wheelie ? " 
 
 " May be I might, an' ye would hearken me again," was his 
 answer, a little curiously, Jiowever. But to this Mary made no 
 direct reply, only saying, "What are ye come to Edinburgh 
 
 "I'm on my way to London." 
 
 andThl^'r'^'^:.T'r.^'fr '''^"™''^ Mary with astonishment; 
 
 and then she added, hr sUlv " and so vp }in<.n« m i /• 
 
 at Kilwinning?" '' ^"'» ^« > e haena made your fortune 
 
 Andrew blushed, and looked his reply. 
 "Miss Cunningham," interposed the' governess, "this is a 
 very improper conversation." 
 
 With th 
 Andrew, p 
 opposite dii 
 he paused, 
 behind, anc 
 ant mannei 
 Andrew, 
 towering 1 
 sprightline 
 sf> fned to 
 image, as a 
 appear to 1; 
 on the coni 
 of seventee 
 and pleasui 
 sued >;is wi 
 vessel that 
 For the i 
 the passenf 
 Pringle cal 
 his head; I 
 in which h 
 terested h: 
 that he wa 
 which he e 
 though cla 
 stuff. He, 
 opinion of 
 looks, and 
 and chiefly 
 ingly hard- 
 en the ( 
 much abat 
 companion 
 the irrepre 
 Among 
 been a stu( 
 dress, stiff 
 
CHAPTER XI, — EDINBUr-GH. 
 
 43 
 
 's guidance; 
 1, the Castle, 
 as the Edin- 
 heir contem- 
 iswered with 
 sh to set hira 
 :o see all the 
 hed any im- 
 ;ct, he dined 
 laved money 
 
 e should go 
 n was a tall 
 other, con- 
 t was Mary 
 ■ding-school 
 
 noment she 
 
 Iressed by a 
 5, recovered 
 his familiar 
 on Johnny 
 •ier." 
 
 said Mary 
 )awkie as a 
 ?" 
 
 0," was his 
 •y made no 
 Edinburgh 
 
 mishraent ; 
 )ur fortune 
 
 'this is a 
 
 With these words they parted; Mary laughing gaily as 
 Andrew, pleased and sheepishly, moved also forward in the 
 opposite direction. When he had walked about twenty paces, 
 he paused, and looked back ; Mary, at the same time, also looked 
 behind, and, seeing him, kissed her hand in a gay and triumph- 
 ant manner. 
 
 Andrew, although strangely aifected by the sight of the 
 towering lily that Mary had grown, and overborne by her 
 sprightliness, was delighted at the vivid recollection which she 
 sr; rned to retain of the principal incidents with which her 
 image, as a lassie, was associated in his recollection. It did not 
 appear to him that her banter was embittered with any scorn ; 
 on the contrary, it had a flavour of kindness in it, which a youth 
 of seventeen could not but enjoy with something allied to hope 
 and pleasure. With a buoyant bosom, and a light step, he pur- 
 sued iJis way to Leith, where he immediately went on board the 
 vessel that was to him the bark of destiny. 
 
 For the first two days after the trader left Leith, like most of 
 the passengers, he was so dreadfully afflicted with what Doctor 
 Pringle calls "the grievous prostration," that he could not raise 
 his head; but still there was something so queer in the manner 
 in which he bore his sufferings, that it at once amused and in- 
 terested his fellow-passengers. They saw by his appearance 
 that he was only a simple country boy; but the self-possession 
 which he evinced in the intervals of the malady, showed that, 
 though clad in hodden-grey, he was not entirely made of rustic 
 stuff. He, however, took no part in the conversation ; and the 
 opinion of his shrewdness and sagacity was formed from his 
 looks, and the manner in which he set about his little offices, 
 and chiefly by an observation on the biscuit, which was exceed- 
 ingly hard— "It's very good," said he, "and will eat wi' pains." 
 
 On the day before reaching the Thames, his sickness had so 
 much abated, that he began to enter into the humours of his 
 companions, and au opportunity was not long wanting to show 
 the irrepressible drollery of his character. 
 
 Among the passengers was a spruce young man, who had 
 been a student at the University of Edinburgh; foppish in his 
 dress, stiflF and conceited in his manners, and singularly fasti- 
 
44 
 
 SIR ANDREW WYLIE. 
 
 dious towards all on board, insomuch that he was generally 
 disliked; but still he so conducted himself, that he had not been 
 exposed to any open ridicule. Andrew perceived how he was 
 considered, and entering into the feelings of the party towards 
 this unfortunate sprig of delicacy and condescension, addressed 
 him after dinner, when the whole party, in consequence of a 
 shower, were seated round the table below. 
 
 "I'm thinking," said he, very gravely, but at the same time 
 looking pawkily and peeringly round the table, " that I have 
 seen you before, and that ye hae had a roasted goose mony a 
 day for your dinner. Were na ye 'prentice to Thomas Steek 
 the tailor in our parish ?" 
 
 The student looked aghast while the laugh rose universal 
 against him, and he repelled this assault on his gentility with 
 the mof^t vehement indignation. 
 
 " Na," said Andrew, » I'm sure ye needna be ashamed o' your 
 trade, alt^jough it was thought that ye had fled the country-side 
 for spoiling the cut o' Tammy Daidles's breeks. It's an honest 
 calling a tailor, and I ne'er heard it said that ye were gien to 
 cabbaging,-, but the auld wives thought ye werena sae gleg wi' 
 your needle as some others that had served their time with the 
 same master, though they said ye dippet your spoon in the par- 
 ntch deeper than ony o' them." 
 
 The unfortunate fop was p.. trifled. Every one but himself 
 perceived -he drift of the curious little country boy, and sat in 
 admiration of what might be the issue; at last, the student, no 
 longer able to restrain his rage, threatened to slay Andrew on 
 the spot, who nevertheU'ss, with the most perfect nonchalance, 
 replied-" Ye had bet ter no try that : for gin ye strike me for 
 what I m saying, I'll gar ye prove before the lords that you're 
 no a tailor; and I'm sure if it be sae that ye're no o' that craft,' 
 1 11 refer to the present company if ever they saw a creature so 
 like ane. Jhit it's no your faut; and if the han' o' God has 
 made you wi' shanks like ellwands, and smii' finoers to pook 
 needles through claith, we a' ken ye canna help it.'"^ 
 
 The student, under his foppery, was not destitute of sensc, 
 and by the little descriptive touches in this last sentence, su«. 
 pectingthat Andrew was not really serious, endeavoured to turn 
 
 I 
 
 Immedia' 
 house of his 
 to Mr Velli 
 vided him i 
 was rather 
 attempt, on 
 "agude Sec 
 was what nn 
 went wand( 
 bone, seekin 
 within him. 
 stroke of g 
 before, been 
 and happen! 
 aci dentally 
 rescued An( 
 
 Charles v 
 and modish 
 gent to him, 
 '^enerouF. 8.' 
 either in ap] 
 what these 
 Andrew, an( 
 shouts of gh 
 
CHAPTKR XII. LONDON. 
 
 45 
 
 the tables. But our hero was more than his match at banter ; 
 and l)efore the end of the voyage had so raised himself in the 
 opinion of his fellow-passengers, that they were universally of 
 opinion he was calculated to make his way in London with great 
 success, in spite of his little awkward figure, and the droll 
 simplicity of his manners. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 LONDON. 
 
 nee, sus- 
 
 Immediately on his arrival, Andrew was conducted to the 
 house of his relation, Mrs Ipsey, where having received a note 
 to Mr Vellum, the solicitor with whom her husband bad pro- 
 vided him a situation, he went immediately to deliver it. It 
 was rather adventurous for one so fresh from the country to 
 attempt, on the first day, to find his way in London, with only 
 "agude Scotch tonp-11'"' lor s guardian genie ; the consequence 
 Avas what might h ... been anticipated. He lost his way, and 
 went wanderiny: through the labyrinth of streets in Mary-le- 
 bone, seeking, as it were, an outlet ; his heart almost perishing 
 ftithin him. In this dilemma, however, he met with a singular 
 stroke of good fortune. Charles Pierston had, about a year 
 before, been taken into his uncle's counting-house in the city, 
 and happening to be in that part of the town on business, they 
 aci ilentally met. The joy of this encounter was excessive — it 
 rescued Andrew from despair. 
 
 Charles was grown a gay and elegantly-formed youth, dressy 
 and modish even to foppery, for his uncle was liberal and indul- 
 gent to him, perhaps to a fault; but he was still the same frank, 
 gpnerouR, -ind warm-licartcd Ifwl, and although no contrast 
 either in appearance or character could be more striking than 
 what ihese two school-fellows presented, he shook hands with 
 Andrew, and welcomed him to London at once with jokes and 
 shouts of gladness. 
 
46 
 
 SIR ANDREW WYLIE. 
 
 
 14 I 
 
 "Lord bless me, but I am blithe to see you," cried our hero, 
 his spirit rebounding up into all its wonted self-possession, in 
 finding himself again under the encouraging countenance of " a 
 kent face." "I have been lost amang thir houses, man, for 
 hours, till I believe my head's no right. Od sake, if I wasna 
 ready to lie down an' dee, had it no been for shame ! " 
 
 "Why didn't you call a coach?" said Pierston, ready to 
 expire with laughter at the sincerity of Andrew's description of 
 his perplexity. 
 
 "O, Charlie Pierston!" exclaimed the novice, in the ufmost 
 astonishment; "me hire a coach! Mary Conn in a coach!* — 
 the folk would hae thought I had gane by mysel — Na, na, de- 
 mented as I hae been, I was nae so far left to myself, to be 
 guilty of ony sic extravagance — Me hire a whole coach ! — Ah I 
 Charlie, Charlie, I maun ca' mair canny; and ye ken I never 
 had ony turn for gentility like you. But ye maun now show 
 me the way to Lincoln's Inn, whar I'm gaun to learn the law." 
 
 Charles, delighted as he was to see his old and queer school- 
 fellow, did not much relish the idea of walking with so singular 
 a figure in the streets. Accordingly, when they reached the first 
 stand, he called a coach ; but, before stepping in, Andrew said, 
 " Now, mind, Charlie, ye're to pay for't a', I'll no be a single 
 bawbee ; for I hae laid it down as a rule no to waste a plack on 
 ony sort of pleasure." 
 
 " Well, well, never mind that ; I'll settle for the coach this 
 time," said Charles, " and so jump in." 
 
 When they were seated, Pierston gathered from him an ac- 
 count of his hopes and prospects, and he was irresistibly tempted 
 to play him an initiatory prank ; accordingly, when the coach 
 reached the door of Mr Vellum's chambers, he leaped briskly out, 
 and slipping the fare into the coachman's hand, whispered him to 
 get all he could more from the other gentleman. The coach- 
 man was rogue enough for his own interest to enter into the 
 frolic; and Charles hurrying away, pretending he was pressed 
 for time, and in his flight calling back to Andrew that he would. 
 Bee him soon again, left him in the paws of the coachman. 
 
 • Ayrshire proverb. 
 
 " Two shill 
 assisted Andr 
 
 " What's tl 
 that hired yoi 
 
 There was 
 in which this 
 to enforce his 
 
 " I tell you 
 deevil, if a fr 
 the hire? — I 
 man!" 
 
 Jehu had i 
 farther with 1 
 pay for his fri 
 
 " It's ill gel 
 frae that flea- 
 doit that didn 
 to let his scor 
 argol-bargol ^ 
 ony hoo ; and 
 for scot nor Ic 
 damn'd for't, 
 that he walk( 
 chambers, wli 
 laughter, like 
 Andrew afteri 
 
 Mr Vellum 
 in the prime 
 moment that 
 an original, m 
 ance. His kr 
 in all the seco 
 characters are 
 sequence, um 
 fellows, who 
 stranger as th 
 unusual cordii 
 
 " I am very 
 
CHAPTER Xn. — LONDON. 
 
 47 
 
 , ready to 
 icription of 
 
 the utmost 
 coach!* — 
 MTa, na, de- 
 'self, to be 
 ach!— Ah! 
 en I never 
 now show 
 I the law." 
 eer school- 
 so singular 
 ed the first 
 idrew said, 
 »e a single 
 a plack on 
 
 coach this 
 
 iiim an ac- 
 »ly tempted 
 1 the coacli 
 briskly out, 
 ered him to 
 rhe coacli- 
 er into the 
 vas pressed 
 it he would, 
 iman. 
 
 \ 
 
 " Two shillings, your honour," said the fellow, when he had 
 assisted Andrew to alight. 
 
 " What's that for ? Didna the ither lad pay you ? It was him 
 that hired you — ye needna look to me for ony payment." 
 
 There was a degree of tremour and indecision in the manner 
 in which this answer was given, that encouraged the coachman 
 to enforce his demand more resolutely, and he repeated it. 
 
 " I tell you, man, that it's no me ye're to apply to — what the 
 deevil, if a frien' hire a chaise, and gie me a hurl, am T to pay 
 the hire? — I never heard o' sic extortion — go awa' wi' you, 
 
 man 
 
 I" 
 
 Jehu had some relish of humour himself, and played still 
 farther with the apprehensions of our hero, saying, he should 
 pay for his friend, and settle it afterwards with him. 
 
 " It's ill getting a breek aff a Highlanman — get twa shillings 
 frae that flea-luggit rinnagate Charlie Pierston, who had ne'er a 
 doit that didna burn a hole in his pouch ! — I ken him ouer weel 
 to let his score gang to my lawin. No, my lad, it's of no use to 
 argol-bargol wi' me. I'll no be bow-wow't out of my shillings 
 ony hoo ; and, as I said before, ye maun just gang your ways, 
 for scot nor lot will I pay you, or the like o' you, if I should be 
 daran'd for't, which is a mickle word for me to say;" and with 
 that he walked briskly up the steps that led to Mr Vellum's 
 chambers, while the coachman mounted his box, roaring with 
 laughter, like the mill-lade at Kilwinning-brig in a speat, as 
 Andrew afterwards told Pierston. 
 
 Mr Vellum was an able, acute, and intelligent man of business, 
 in the prime of life, active, gentlemantiy, and decisive. The 
 moment that he cast his eye on our hero, he perceived he was 
 an original, nor did he like him the less for his uncouth appear- 
 ance. His knowledge of the world had indeed taught him, that, 
 in all the secondary and laborious departments of business, such 
 characters are of the most invaluable description ; and in con- 
 sequence, much to the amazement of several si)ruce young 
 fellows, who were casting contemptuous glances aside on the 
 stranger as they plied their nimble quills, he received him with 
 unusual cordiality. 
 
 " I am very glad you have come," said Mr Vellum, " for it is 
 
48 
 
 SIR ANDREW WTLIE. 
 
 r'* 
 
 now term-time, and I doubt not you v/ill soon make yourself 
 useful." 
 
 " I'll no fail in the endeavour," replied Andrew ; " but if I 
 dinna at first come up to your expectation, ye maun just bear 
 wi' me till ray ban's sooplet at the wark." 
 
 " I shall be satisfied with your endeavour, and you may now 
 take your place at the desk." 
 
 " No the day, sir," said Andrew ; " for I hae tint sic a time 
 by losing mysel' in coming from Mr Ipsey's, that I maun look 
 after the bit pack wi' my claes before dark. Til be wi' you, 
 however, by break o' day the morn's morning." 
 
 Mr Vellum acquiesced, and Andrew, invigorated by the satis- 
 factory reception he had met with, and perhaps unconsciously 
 also by the little experience he had gleaned in his adventure 
 with Pierston, then proceeded with confidence to the house of a 
 Mrs Callender, whom Mrs Ipsey had recommended to him for 
 lodgings. 
 
 It was situated in a small court, off one of the streets in the 
 vicinity of Red Lion Square, and in the neatness of all its ap- 
 pearance, justified the character which he had received of the 
 landlady. 
 
 In consequence of coming from Mrs Ipsey, Andrew was shown 
 the first floor ; but when informed that the rent was a guinea 
 a-week, he turned up his eyes, and gasped as i^ a load was on 
 his heart. At last he was enabled to articulate, " Ye'U hae ither 
 rooms?" and being answered in the affirmative, was conducted 
 up stairs, where a bargain was concluded for an attic, at the 
 rate of four shillings and sixpence per week. But we must not 
 undertake to describe the details of his household arrangements ; 
 we shall, therefore, pass over the conversation which took place 
 at the bargain-making, with simply remarking, that although 
 Andrew thought Mrs Callender "dreadfu' dewr" in the rent of 
 her room, yet he was much satisfied with her orderly house and 
 motherly appearance; and with all expedient haste proceeded 
 to the wharf to get his luggage brought home. This, however, 
 involved difficulties which he hnd not anticipated. 
 
 He guessed from the length of the way, which did not seem 
 abridged by the necessity he was under of enquirina, at »ivery 
 
CHAPTER XII. — LONDON. 
 
 49 
 
 ake yourself 
 
 r; "but if I 
 un just bear 
 
 ou may now 
 
 it sic a time 
 
 I maun look 
 
 be wi' you, 
 
 by the satis- 
 nconsciously 
 is adventure 
 e house of a 
 1 to him for 
 
 treets in the 
 f all its ap- 
 :eived of the 
 
 v^ was shown 
 as a guinea 
 load was on 
 ;'ll hae ither 
 ,s conducted 
 ittlc, at the 
 ive must not 
 •angements ; 
 1 took place 
 at although 
 1 the rent of 
 y house and 
 13 proceeded 
 is, however, 
 
 id not seem 
 Iff, at iwery 
 
 turn, for "the road to Wapping, ' that the expense of porterage 
 for his trunk would be considerable, and he made up his mind 
 to go the whole extent of a shilling. Bui on reaching the 
 wharf, to his inexpressible astonishment, no man could be found 
 wb . would undertake the task for less than five shillings, the 
 very mention of which brought at once an inteijection from the 
 innermost chambers of his soul, and a cold sweat on his brows. 
 The steward of the vessel advised him to take a coach, but this 
 was a suggestion of prodigality still more insurmountable; so 
 that, seeing no other likf.ly way of getting the trunk carried, he 
 manfully resolved to bear it on his own shoulders. 
 
 By this time it was almost dark, and there was some risk that 
 the landiTTirk?, vhich he had observed to guide his way, would 
 be obscured from his view if he did not make haste. Hav- 
 
 ir 'fore shifted his coat and waistcoat, for the old ones 
 
 Wiuch he had worn in the passage, he got the trunk on his 
 back, and bravely set forward from Miller's wharf to find his 
 way to Holborn, knowing that, if he was once there, he would 
 soon discover the rotd to Mrs Callender's. But to carry a 
 well-packed trunk through the crowded streets of London, was 
 no easy task to a stranger; and, long before he reached the 
 Royal Exchange, tht shades of darkness had deepened over- 
 head, and the lights and lamps around him shone forth in all 
 their wonted nightly splendour. Still, however, with indefati- 
 gable perseverance, winding his toilsome way along, he at 
 length, after many halts, reached St Sepulchre's church, where 
 he placed the trunk on the wall of the churchyard, and rested 
 to breathe and to wipe his forehead. 
 
 He had not travelled so burdened unnoticed : — a gang of street- 
 robbers early marked him for their prey, and dogged him like 
 blood-hounds in the track of their game; but his wariness had 
 j)revonted an attack till they saw him at rest. 
 
 One of those freebooters, a little in advance before the others, 
 passed hhu a lew pace^, and, giving a luud Hhriek, iVll down on 
 the pavement, seemingly in convulsions. In the first impulse 
 of the moment, Andrew, as the thieves had calculated, started 
 forward to his assistance ; but fortunately, in doing so, his trunk 
 fell from the railing. The jeopardy in which he saw that it 
 
 3. D 
 
50 
 
 SIR ANDREW WYLIE. 
 
 -7 . 
 
 I' '* 
 
 m 
 
 was immediately placed, by the companions of the impostor 
 running towards it, checked his humanity, and he clung to it 
 with the fond anxiety of a mother over her darling in danger. 
 The thieves cursed his innumanity, and the man in convulsions 
 instantly recovering, rose, ana walked away with an alacrity 
 which at once astonished and alarmed our adventurer, who re- 
 quired no farther testimony respecting the character of the 
 parties. 
 
 Saving only in this incident, he reached the house of Mrs 
 Callender unmolested ; and nothing could exceed the laud and 
 admiration of that worthy dame, when she heard what he had 
 accomplished, and the presence of mind with which he had pre- 
 served his trunk from the Philistines. 
 
 "I'm sure," said she, "Mr Wylie, that you must stand in 
 need of your tea. Do sit down, and in the parlour I'll get it 
 ready, with a nice comfortable bit of toast." 
 
 "I would like that unco weel," replied Andrew; "but it's 
 dainties I mauna think o'. So I'll thank you to get me a 
 mutchkin of strong yill and a cooky, which will baith serve me 
 for four-hours and supper." 
 
 Mrs Callender declared, that she did not believe any such 
 things could be had in London. But she could get him a slice 
 of ham and a pint of porter. 
 
 "The woman's deleerit!" exclaimed Andrew; "does she 
 •hink that I'll make a sow o' mysel' wi' drinking a whole pint 
 o porter?" 
 
 Presently, however, recollecting that there was some differ- 
 ence between the Scotch and English measure, he enquired the 
 expense ; and, having saved the porterage of his luggage, he 
 adopted her suggestion as to the porter, but he would jield to 
 no such seduction as the luim. 
 
 Having recruited his strength in Mrs C'allender's parlour, he 
 proposed going to bed, as he was much tired. " But," said he, " I 
 needna be layii^g in ony stores till I sec about me in the morn- 
 ing; so that, gin ye hae ony sic thing as a candle-doup aboot the 
 house, I'll be obliged if ye'U lend me't the night." 
 
 This request needed some explanation. In the end, however, 
 a mutual understanding took place on the subject, but withou^ 
 
CHAPTER XIII.— FIRST IMPRESSIONS. 
 
 51 
 
 materially tending to exalt the character for liberality of our 
 hero in the opinion of his landlady. Nevertheless, she lent him 
 
 the candle. 
 
 Having retired for the night to his chamber, and extinguished 
 the light, he knelt down at the bedside. But the hopes, the 
 wishes, and the anxieties which the young adventurer communi- 
 cates to heaven in such a time, belong to a more holy strain of 
 feeling than we may here venture to unfold. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 FIRST Un'RESSIOSS. 
 
 Mr Vellum had for clients several persons of high rank and, 
 among others, the Earl of Sandyford. His lordship was stih on 
 the gay side of thirty, and justly considered one of the most 
 elegant men of the age ; but from the date of his marriage with 
 Lady Aug-ista Spangle, the daughter of the Marquis of Aber- 
 side, he had disappoiated the expectations of his f ' jnds. Instead 
 of taking that splendid part in the deliberations of the kingdom, 
 for which he seemed naturally, by his animated temperament 
 and lofty eloquence, peculiarly qualified, he suddenly rushed 
 into the whirlpool of fashionable dissipation, and squandered his 
 estate and talents with a vehemence that not only surprised, but 
 alarmed, while it mortified his friends and admirers; for '.f 
 appeared to be the result of some wild, yet voluntary resolution, 
 as if he sought, by the velocity of a headlong career, to escape 
 the miseries of some mysterious sorrow. 
 
 When his lordship first entered the arena of fashion, he was 
 strikinriy handsome, and the expression of his countenance, 
 which was nobly intelligent, indicated great elevation of senti- 
 ment, tinctured with an urbanity full of playfulness and good 
 humour ; but, at the period of which we are now speaking, he 
 was become pale and slender, an elegant listlesanoss pervaded 
 his whole frame, and his voice, which was naturally clear and 
 
52 
 
 SIR ANDREW WYLIE. 
 
 „:,?.< 
 
 ii->. 
 
 I.' 
 
 i. 
 
 finely modulated, had dwindled into an habitual monotonous 
 simper, suitable, indeed, to the small topics he affected to dis- 
 cuss, but which he evidently cared as little about as he did for 
 any thing else. Occasionally, however, his true character would 
 shine out, and show that this foppery was but assumed, and that 
 he might still be roused to better things, and stand forth in the 
 erect superiority of a genius conscious of its innate strength, and 
 ready, when sufficient cause required, to manifest its incalcu- 
 lable power. 
 
 About the time that our hero arrived in London, it had been 
 remarked that the earl wont less into company than formerly, 
 and that he sometimes spent the morning in the House of Lords, 
 yawning, it is true, to the tuneless eloquence and metaphysical 
 distinctions of some litigious advocate from the north, address- 
 ing, with equal effect, the chancellor and the woolsacks, and no 
 less delighting the attendant solicitors than tlie faded 'worthies 
 of Elizabeth's reign in the tapestry, who, in appeal cases, are 
 commonly all the spectators. Once in the evening,, when he 
 happened, in the course of that spring, to obey a summons of 
 the House on an important political question, he was so far 
 excited by the conflict of debate that he actually made a speech 
 of three sentences, so judicious and well expressed, that it tingled 
 in the ears of the most experienced senators with a thrill of a 
 new sensation, and was hailed as the symptom of a redeeming 
 spirit, that might in time convert him from those pursuits which 
 had equally injured his health, his fortune, and his character. 
 
 Some time after this, his lordship had occasion to confer with 
 Mr Vellum, and it happened, when he called at his chambers, 
 that our hero was the only person within. A brief colloquy, in 
 consequence, took place at the door, Wiiich had the eflect of in- 
 teresting his lordship's cariosity ; in so much, that partly with 
 the intention of resting a few minutes, perhaps more, however, 
 with the Icsign of extracting a little amusement, he was induced 
 to walk into the office, and take a seat on one of the elevated 
 stools at the desk. Andrew had no conception of the rank of 
 the visiter; and, as he was not altogether satisfied with this 
 freedom, he stood warily holding the inner door open, as an in- 
 timation to his lordship that he ought not to remain ; but the 
 
CHAPTER Xin. — riEST IMPRESSIONS. 
 
 oddity of his appearance, and the sly suspicion of his looks, with 
 the simplicity of his manners, diverted the peer, who, after in- 
 specting him through a quizzing-glass from head to foot, said, 
 with an affectation of fashionable inanity, swinging his feet at 
 the same time, " These stools of your's, young man, are very 
 
 tall." 
 
 " Ay," replied Andrew, " they're geyan heigh." The assumed 
 indifference of the eorl was almost discomposed by the flatness of 
 this answer ; and, pulling out his handkerchief to hide the effect, 
 said, at the same time, " Pray, friend, where were you caught?" 
 " Sir, I never was catched," was the indignant answer. 
 " Indeed !" said his lordship, " how then came you to Lon- 
 don?" 
 " IIoo should I come ? " 
 
 " A very satisfactory answer, I must confess," rejoined the 
 earl ; " and I have no doubt you had a great deal of pleasure in 
 your travels ?" 
 
 " Ah, trouth !" quoth our hero, " if the booking the soul out 
 o' the body be ony pleasure, I had enough o' that pleasure! 
 Gude forgie me! but I was amaist tempted tomak awu'wi' mysel. 
 Eh ! 1 thouglit if I could hae dee't, it would hae been a satisfac- 
 tion. Na, na, sir, I would nae advise my sworn enemy to come 
 in a ship by sea frae Scotland." 
 
 The earl, still preserving all due seriousness, said, " May I 
 presume to enquire if you are a lawyer?" 
 " I'm learning," replied Andrew modestly. 
 " A very judicious answer," was the ironical observation of 
 his lordship ; " and how long may you have been in the pro- 
 fession ?" 
 
 " Before coming here, I was weel on to three years with John 
 Gledd the messenger, and I hae been three days wi' Mr Vellum." 
 " It is an honourable profession, and I doubt not you will 
 become a distinguished ornament to it— in time," said his lord- 
 ship ^'rylv. 
 
 " I'm thinking it's a geyan kittle trade though ; but I'll ettle 
 my best," replied Andrew, none disconcerted. 
 
 " But," resumed the earl, " what do you think of London ?" 
 " Poo !" cried the clerk ; " London ! a wheen brick houses. O, 
 
54 
 
 SIB ANDHEW WYLIE. 
 
 ■M 
 
 w 
 
 man, if j'e could but see Glascow and Edinburgh ! there you 
 
 would see something—look at Holyrood-House, that's a palace 
 for you— but St James's here, it's just like an auld to'booth. 
 But, sir, ye'll hae to gae awa', for it's the time for me to gang for 
 my dinner, that I may be back to keep the house— and I hae a 
 notion your business is no very particular the day." 
 
 " It certainly," said his lordship, " will keep to another day 
 but where do you dine ?" 
 
 " At a very credit"ble house, sir ; the Caledonian, in a neigh- 
 bour-street." 
 
 " And how much may you pay ?" enquired his lordship, with 
 unaffected curiosity, prompted by an interest which he began to 
 take in this original. 
 
 " Sevenpence ; and a bawbee to the laddie," replied Andrew, 
 " Good heavens !" exclaimed the carl, touched with a senti- 
 ment of compassion, never having by any accident before heard 
 at Avhat rates the humble and industrious youth of the vast 
 metropolis are obliged to live. 
 
 " Ay, it's awfu' dear," said Andrew, mistaking the cause of 
 his lordship's astonishment ; " but the victual's good," adding, 
 "it's a hard thing, sir, to live in London. Some take a mutch- 
 kin of porter to their dinner, but I sloken my drowth wi' Adam's 
 wine." 
 
 " I presume, then, that you do not allow yourself much in- 
 dulgence in public amusements ?" said his lordship. 
 
 " As to that," replied Andrew, " I take my share, for the singers 
 are far better than ours ; indeed, they hae tunes and voices like 
 leddies and gentlemen. But, sir, it's no canny to gang near 
 them; for nae further gane than yestreen, last night ye ken, 
 when I was barkening to twa singing like nightingales in 
 Lincoln's Inn Square, a ne'er-do-weel pocket-picker whuppet 
 the napkin out of my pouch, wi' the slippery hand o' an evil 
 spirit, before I kent whar I was. Od, sir, but there's a terrible 
 power o' ill-doers about London !" 
 
 "O, I understand! you mean by the public amusements, 
 listaning to the ballad-singers in the street," said the earl, 
 drolling. 
 
 " I can assure you," replied Andrew, " they werena like bal- 
 
CHAPTER Xni, FIRST IMPRESSIONS. 
 
 55 
 
 lad-singers at a' ; and it's my notion they were playactors out o' 
 bread." 
 
 " Have you been at the theatres?" said his lordship. 
 
 " No yet ; but I'm gaun. Our clerks are to treat me some 
 night soon ; and they say — they a' say — that I'll see — Gude kens 
 what I'll no see ; but it maun be something vera extraordinar, 
 for they're just out the body about catching the efFee, as they 
 ca't. However, effecs here or effecs there, it's no right o' you, 
 sir, to keep me clishmaclavering when I should be taking my 
 pick, that the master's wark mayna gae by." 
 
 The earl admitted the justness of the observation ; and per- 
 ceiving the roguery at the bottom of the intended treat on the 
 part of the other clerks, became desirous himself to enjoy some 
 of the virgin fancies of Andrew ; he therefore pretended, as he 
 had not found Mr Vellum, he would write a note for him. 
 
 Being furnished accordingly with the necessary implements, 
 he requested the solicitor that Andrew might be sent to a parti- 
 cular coffee-house, at eleven o'clock that evening, with a letter 
 for Servinal, his valet, who would be there to meet him ; and 
 that Mr Vellum might have some idea of the object of this sin- 
 gular request," he added, "The countess receives masks, but 
 your clerk can take a part without any disguise." 
 
 " Now," said his lordship to Andrew, as he foldetl up the 
 letter, " this relates to a matter on which my heart is much set, 
 and I rely upon your fidelity in placing it safe in Mr Vellum's 
 own hand." 
 
 "That ye may do, and sleep sound upon't," was the answer; 
 "for be he living, or be he dead, I will see him; and I wouldna 
 that a thing gi'en to me in the way of trust was mislippent — 
 No, though I was to die on the spot, But O, sir, really I'm 
 growing uneasy; for if I dinna get my dinner noo, thae deevils, 
 our clerks, will be back ; and if they fin' out that I'm toom, 
 they'll fish to famish me. It would therefore, sir, be very obli- 
 ging if ye hae done your pleasure and needs, to "ae quieth'awa' 
 and let me rin for my bit chack o' dinner." 
 
 The good-humour of the earl, perhaps we ought to add his 
 habitual politeness, could not withstand the reiterated urgency 
 of this appeal, and he accordingly withdrew, renewing his in- 
 
56 
 
 SIE ANDREW WYLIE. 
 
 t) 
 
 I 
 
 t ! 
 
 junctions for the careful delivery of the letter. But this was 
 unnecessary; Andrew w:is fully impressed with the importance 
 of letters addressed by clients to their solicitors, and well aware 
 that his future success in life depended quite as much on his in- 
 tegrity as upon any other quality. 
 
 :'.. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 w 
 
 H'' 
 
 '/ 
 
 
 A MASQVERADB. 
 
 When Andrew came back after dining, Mr Vellum, who had 
 been all the forenoon in Westminster Hall, was in the office ; 
 and on reading the earl's epistle, which our hero faithfully 
 delivered into his own hands, he was not a little diverted by its 
 contents. 
 
 " Did the gentleman," said he, " tell you who he was ?" 
 
 " I never speert," replied Andrew ; " but surely he would put 
 his name to the letter." 
 
 " O yes ; but I cannot imagine what has induced him to write 
 to me on such a subject." 
 
 " He maun answer for that himsel'," said Andrew ; but he 
 seemed very particular. It's surely something very particular, 
 sir, for he stayed so lang, and asked so many questions, that I 
 was obligated to tell him to gang awa'." 
 
 " But what sort of man did you find him ?" 
 
 " I'm thinking," replied Andrew, " that he's something in 
 the perfoomery line, for he had a fine scented pocket-napkin, 
 and was wondrous perjink in his words — a' on chandler pin? ; 
 and baith in shape and habit he was a slimmer piece of gen- 
 teelity." 
 
 " I hope," said the solicitor, " that you treated him with ail 
 due respect, for he was no other than the Earl of Sandyford." 
 
 " O, Mr Vellum, what a stupid fool fallow he maun liae 
 thought I was — a yearl ! Me speaking in the way I did to him, 
 and he a' the time a yearl ! Howsoever, he canna hae't to say 
 
CHAPTER XIV. — A MASQUEBADE. 
 
 57 
 
 that I neglected his business, or didna mind yours, and I U mak 
 UP for't to him in decorum at another time." 
 
 " I hope so," said Mr Vellum jocularly ; " but I have some- 
 thing particularly for you to do this evening. You will take a 
 letter from me to one xMr Servinal, as directed; he is a civil 
 man, and I have particular reasons for wishing you to become 
 acquainted with him. I need not say more, than that you will 
 endeavour to make yourself agreeable to him." 
 
 " If it's for your interest, sir," replied Andrew, " ye need hae 
 nae fear o' that. But eleven o'clock is an aw''. 1 time o' night to 
 be seeking after ony honest business." ■ 
 
 « True," said Mr Vellum ; " but, in our profession, all hours 
 and times must be at the command of our clients." 
 
 " Say nae mair, say nae mair; by night or by day, Mr Vel- 
 lum, I'll try to do my part," replied .\ndrew ; and in this man- 
 ner the prelude for the evening was arranoed. 
 
 At the time appointed, the valet was at his post, and had not 
 to wait long for our hero. Servinal had been duly instructed by 
 his master ; and accordingly, after some conversation, containing 
 a number of apparent facts and evidential circumstances which 
 Andrew was to relate, with all proper fidelity, to Mr Vellum, 
 Servinal proposed an adjournment to the playhouse under the 
 tempting pretext that, being acquainted with the doorkeepers, 
 he could get them both in free at that hour. To this our hero 
 could make no possible objection ; on the contrary, he considered 
 his assent to the proposal as in strict conformity to the instruc- 
 tions he had received, to make himself agreeable to so important 
 a client as the valet appeared to be. A ooach was thereupon 
 called, and they were speedily at Sandyford House. 
 
 On reaching the precincts of the mansion, Andrew had no 
 reason to doubt that he was approaching one of the principal 
 theatres. The square was thronged with carriages ; a multitude 
 of curious spectators, to see the company as they were set down, 
 occupied the pavement; and the vestibule was filled with a 
 countless host of servants in livery, the domestics of the guests, 
 and friends of the domestics. , . , . u * 
 
 The -ad had instructed Servinal, in order that Andrew might 
 not be exposed to the insolent impertinence of the memals, to 
 
58 
 
 SIR ANDREW WTLIR. 
 
 take care that it should not be known among them he was not 
 m character : so that, when he entered the hall with his rustic 
 garb and awkward manner, they set him down as Freelove in 
 the character of Jemmy, in the farce of High Life Below Stair«» 
 an.l the sincere astonishment with which he gazed around' 
 excited their unanimous admiration and plaudits as an incom-' 
 parable performer. 
 
 Andrew clung to his companion in a degree of delighted alarm 
 saying involuntarily, as be was conducted up the grand stair- 
 Tl}'''^^'^^^^^P''''"'^^i^^^^^re the company were assembling, 
 
 mat a beautiful house this is ! Odsake, man, it's as grand a 
 Solomon's temple." ^ 
 
 "Were you ever there?" said a mask in a domino in 
 passing. Andrew instantly recognized a voice that he had heard 
 before, and was petrified. It was the earl, at whose appearance 
 Servinal immediately >nthdrew, telling our hero that he was now 
 free to go every where, and pick up what amusement he could 
 tor the remainder of the evening. 
 
 Notwithstanding all the freedom which the belief that he was 
 
 n a place of public amusement was calculated to inspire, Andrd 
 
 shyly entered the central salon, from which the drLir^g-rooml 
 
 hfm He th'"'{;T"'' "'^' '''' '''' '' *h- ^--d' '""-" 
 him. He thought, however, they were the players-the hire 
 
 hngs of the entertainment, and expected them 'otumb e Ind 
 perform other antic feats of corporeal in tenuity. ' 
 
 Willie under this misconception of h^. situation, just within 
 he door of the salon, with his back leaning on the pedertal of 
 astatue of Terpsichore, thewell-fleshedCouL.. of Gorb^^^^^^^^ 
 
 Andrew, however, was disconcerted by what he con^idpr^H 
 her impudence, and said, " Gang about vnnl h„ ^''"^'^^'-ed 
 and no fash me. I'll hie naetM^T ^^^7^"^^' 
 woman, ye may just whistle on your thumb/' ^ ^''"' 
 
 " The bn 
 
 " IIow can 
 
 " I'm thi 
 
 better chart 
 
 Her lady 
 
 at a loss to 
 
 At this 
 
 Flagon, ca 
 
 "Where is 
 
 at the sam( 
 
 Our hen 
 
 most uneqi 
 
 how the dc 
 
 "Doesh 
 
 peradon. 
 
 embraces i 
 
 weep bittc 
 
 shawl, and 
 
 "The V 
 
 and walke 
 
 "See h 
 
 abandons 
 
 deceiver!' 
 
 Andrev 
 
 back to I 
 
 mistake." 
 
 The ur 
 
 for Coles 
 
 prieties o 
 
 called for 
 
 Poor i 
 
 them, wi 
 
 the worn 
 
 said he, ' 
 
 "VVha 
 
 Woodco( 
 
 you, sir, 
 
 Andre 
 
CHAPTER XIV. — A MASQUERADE. 
 
 69 
 
 " The brute !" exclaimed the countess, forgetting her part-- 
 u How can he have got into the house ? He has no character 
 
 » rm thinking," said Andrew, dryly, » that I hae a muckle 
 Letter character than you." . .. i 
 
 Her ladyship was amazed, and returned to her party, utterly 
 at a loss to understand the phenomenon. ^ ^ ^ . „ ,, 
 At this moment, Col. Coleson, in the character of Moll 
 Flaoon, came up, amidst shouts of laughter, excla.mmg, 
 "Where is he-where is the gay deceiver?" presenting Andrew 
 at the same moment with V' . )• • ^.et-pistol, «to brandy-bot tie. 
 Our hero looked at M.U for .o^ut half a minute with the 
 most unequivocal marks . f tr H'.lon, At last he said, I wonder 
 how the doorkeepers cou..' 1 . sic a i nkler in . 
 
 "Does he disown me?" < .^Mxa.^ Moll, m a rapture of des- 
 neradon "Will the pcrjureu wretch cast me otf from his tender 
 ^Ibraces in the face of the whole world?" And she began to 
 ^•eep bitterly, wiping her eyes with the corner of her tattered 
 shawl and taking a sip from her bottle with infinite humour. 
 
 "The woman's fou," said Andrew coolly to the bystanders, 
 and walked away somewhat anxiously to shun her. 
 
 "See how he deserts me," cried the obstreperous Moll he 
 abandons me like the rest of his faithless sex, the cruel gay 
 
 Andrew, terrified by the vehemence of Moll's manner, turned 
 back to reason with her, and said, "Honest woman, ye re m a 
 
 mistake. , 
 
 The unaffected simplicity of this address was too much even 
 for Coleson, with all his confidence; and, regardless of the pro- 
 prieties of his part, he joined in the general ' u^hter that it 
 called forth from all present. 
 
 Poor Andrew then appealed to the spectators, and assured 
 them, with the most perfect sincerity, that he had never seen 
 the woman before since he was born. "Shes just a randy, 
 said he, "and ought to be set in the jougs." 
 
 "What's the matter-what's the to do here.^' cned a Justice 
 Woodcock. "What are ye after? Tramp, madam; and as tor 
 
 YOU, sir, take yourself off." , , , ,» n . i 
 
 Andrew would have walked away rebuked, but Moll took 
 
'i\ 
 
 i 
 
 ! 
 
 
 4. 
 
 ( 
 
 a^;^ 
 
 L 
 
 P 
 
 li 
 
 1 
 
 i 
 
 1 
 
 60 
 
 SIE ANDREW WYLIE. 
 
 m ii 
 
 
 
 a.:; 
 
 hold of the seeming magistrate by the coat-tail, exclaiming, "Is 
 this a proper treatment of the fair sex, Justice Woodcock? I 
 thought you had been a better man in your day, than to see a 
 poor innocent girl, that had nothing but her virtue, so wronged 
 by such a cruel, a perfidious, a base, and wicked, wicked man." 
 " Poor Molly! and what has he done to you?" said the Jus- 
 tice. 
 
 "What has he done!" exclaimed Molly, starting from out her 
 tears. "He has undone me?" 
 
 Andrew waj? thunderstruck, and looked around in despair, but 
 saw no friendly visage ; in the same moment Moll clasped him 
 iu her arms, and pulling out his watch, cried, " This at least 
 will procure me some co*mfort." And in putting the watch 
 into her pocket, she took out her bottle, and indulged in another 
 sip. 
 
 " Softly, Moll," said Justice Woodcock, "you must give me 
 the watch." 
 
 " Oh ! " cried Andrew, in a long and vibrating tone of horror ; 
 but suddenly mustering courage, he exclaimed, "As sure as 
 death, sir, this is as big a lie as ever Cluty himself cleckit. 
 Only send for my master, Mr Vellum, and he'll testificate that 
 Tm a poor honest lad, of creditable parentage, just come frae 
 Scotland. O, what had I to do here ! Gie me my watch, I tell 
 you — gie me my watch— thieves, thieves!" 
 
 The earnest vigour of lungs with which he uttered this ex- 
 clamation, resounded through all the splendid chambers, and 
 the whole music and merriment was in a moment silenced by 
 the alarm. Andrew, in the same instant, snatched the watch 
 from Moll who was then in the act of handing it to the justice, 
 and flying oK amidst a universal cataract of laughter, never 
 looked behind till ho was out of breath, and safe in the street. 
 
CHAPTER XV. — AN INVITATION. 
 
 61 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 AN IWVlTATIOrf. 
 
 Hastening home to his lodgings with the expedition of a 
 delinquent flying from justice, Andrew was undressed, ""id over 
 head and ears among the bed-clothes, before he made any attempt 
 to rally his scattered senses. In this situation he soon became 
 more composed, and began to think that he had perhaps been 
 subjected to the influence of some delusion. He had heard of 
 Johnny Fa and Lord Cassillis' lady, and of mountebanks casting 
 glamour in the eyes of their spectators, by which blue-bottle 
 flies, with pins at their tails, are made to appear in the shape of 
 gamecocks drawing logs of timber ; and he was not sure but 
 that some such slight of magic had been practised by the players 
 
 on himself. 
 
 This first effort of returning reason, as his agitation subsided, 
 was succeeded by a still more rational conclusion, no less than 
 that really he did not know where he had been, and therefore it 
 would be as well for him to say nothing of his adventure next 
 morning to the other clerks in the office; and with this prudent 
 determination, he said his prayers and fell asleep. 
 
 But although he had resolved to be silent, he could not divest 
 himself of a certain indescribable feeling of anxiety and appre- 
 hension when he went to the desk in the morning. He sat 
 down without saying a word, and wrote on with more than his 
 wonted assiduity, while his companions were recounting to each 
 other their exploits and gallantries, and strong-ale debaucheries 
 at the Coalhole and Finish, after the play. 
 
 When Mr Vellum entered the office, the sound of his tread 
 was echoed by the beating of Andrew's heart ; and a sensation 
 of fear, almost as painful as the terrors of suspected guilt, took 
 possession of our hero's whole mind, as that genlk-inuu said to 
 him dryly, " Well, Wylie, did yen sec Mr Scrvinal last night?" 
 "A genteel man answered to his name," replied Andrew, 
 " and I gave him the letter." 
 
62 
 
 SIR ANDREW WYLIE. 
 
 W f 
 
 I'M 
 
 1.^ 
 
 
 " Had you any conversation with him?" enquired the solici- 
 , tor, amused at the dexterity of Andrew's evasion, and interested 
 by his evident embarrassment. 
 
 "A great deal," said our hero briskly; and then he faithfully 
 recounted the whole of what he conceived to be the business- 
 part of the conversation. 
 
 Vellum commended his attention and memory, and added, 
 "Did you stop long with him?" 
 
 " We were not a great while thcgither," replied Andrew with 
 a sigh. 
 
 "I hope he did not detain you long; for I do not choose that 
 my young men should keep late hours." 
 
 "It will be my endeatour to satisfy you, sir, in that particu- 
 lar, for I'm no fond of late hours mysel' : they are very bad 
 things," said our hero, morally. 
 
 "Yes," replied his master; "and London is so full of tempta- 
 tions to youth and inexperience." 
 
 "It's an awful place," was the emphatic answer. 
 
 "But you got safe home, after parting from the gentleman," 
 said Mr Vellum. 
 
 "Ay," replied Andrew with a nod, as if he spoke inwardly; 
 "ay, I got safe home." 
 
 The solicitor could, witli difficulty, keep his gravitv ; but, 
 after a momentary pause, he looked sharply at our heVo, and 
 then, in a jocular tone, said, "I suspect, Wylie, you were en- 
 gaged in some adventure last night." 
 
 "I fancy every body may met>t wi' as meikle, and do nae 
 wrung either," w-.. the answer to this home question. 
 
 "Tiien you did meet with something I ' said his master. 
 
 " I canna, without a lie, say I met wi' naething." 
 
 "But what was it?" enquired the solicitor, with an affected 
 tout' of impatience. 
 
 "I'm sure, sir, that's no an easy question to answer; for ye 
 ken I'm !,ut a new come stranger in London, and tt's no 111 thaf s 
 ill like." 
 
 "Then I presume that what you met with was somnthinff you 
 thought strange?" "^ 
 
 "I dare s 
 "It is ve! 
 was." 
 
 "Me refi 
 
 fused." 
 
 "Then w 
 
 "It's bait 
 
 fullest satis 
 
 at his mast 
 
 utterly at a 
 
 At this mo] 
 
 a card fror 
 
 dinner that 
 
 ashes, and 1 
 
 piehending 
 
 said, " I ho 
 
 lordship" 
 
 "O, am 
 
 the world t 
 
 Tlie foot 
 
 earl, accept 
 
 said Mr V( 
 
 quaintance 
 
 "But, sii 
 
 na claes fit 
 
 "Take i 
 
 cerity, "mi 
 
 ful that yo 
 
 Mr Veil 
 
 ceding eve 
 
 been hims( 
 
 which "th 
 
 ivg Post c£ 
 
 purpose of 
 
 fectioner y 
 
 In resut 
 
 copied, on 
 
 dine with 
 
CHAPTER XV. — AN INVIIATION. 
 
 63 
 
 "I dare say," replied Andre- v, "it may no be strange here." 
 "It is very extraordinary that you refuse to tell nie what it 
 was. 
 
 "Me refuse, sir!" exclaimed Andrew; "I'm sure I never re- 
 fused." 
 
 " Then why don't you satisfy me ? " 
 
 " It's baith my earnest wish and interest, sir, to gie you the 
 fullest satisfaction in my power," repli ^ our hero ; and he looked 
 at his master with such an air of simplicity, that Vellum was 
 utterly at a loss whether to set him down as a knave or a fool. 
 At this moment one of Lord Sandyford's servants entered, with 
 a card from his lordship, requesting Mr Wylle's company to 
 dinner that day. Andrew was petrified— he grew as pale as 
 ashes, and trembled from head to foot, totally incapable of com- 
 piehendlng the mysteiy of this device. Vellum smiled, and 
 said, " 1 hope you are not engaged, and that you can oblige his 
 lordship." 
 
 "O, am sure," cried our hero, panting, "I'll do ony thing in 
 the world to oblige my lord ! " 
 
 The footman was accordingly dismissed with a card to the 
 carl, accepting of thcj irvitation. " Y(-u are a fortunate youth," 
 said Mr Vellum, "to have made so early such an enviable ac- 
 quaintance." 
 
 "But, sir," iiterrupted Andrew, "what will I do, for I had 
 na claes fit for my lord's company?" 
 
 "Take my advice," said his mirstcr gravely, and with sin- 
 cerity, "make no change in your appearance, but only be care- 
 ful that you n,ro particularly cloan and neat." 
 
 Mr Vellum was more in the secret of his adventure the pre- 
 ceding evening than he pretended. In fact, the solicitor had 
 been himself at +he mas(iuerado, and partook of Mie merriment 
 which "the incomparable unknown" occasioned, as The Morn- 
 ing Post called Andrew in describing the entertainment, for tho 
 purpose of advertising the savoury merits of th'' eook and con' 
 fectioner who provided the supper. 
 
 In resuming his duty at the desk, Andrew marvelled, as he 
 copied, on the singularity of having received an invitation to 
 dine with an earl; and he was shrewd enough to guess that it 
 
64 
 
 SIR ANDREW WTIilE. 
 
 it 
 
 '•I 
 
 .1 
 
 n I'' 
 
 I t 
 
 i'4 
 
 could neither be on account of his learning, his rank, nor the 
 fashion of his appearance. 
 
 The invitation which Andrew had received from the earl was 
 soon known among the other clerks, and their first notion led 
 them to fancy that he was related to his lordship ; they began, 
 in consequence, to think he was not, after all, the mean sort of 
 half-witted creature which they had hitherto thought him, but 
 an eccentric and original character. This idea received some- 
 thing like confirmation, when one of them, enquiring in what 
 degree of relationship he stood with the carl, Andrew dryly 
 replied, " Really 1 canna say ; but I believe we're sprung of the 
 same stock." Some of the more knowing, however, began to 
 suspect that it possibly might be on account of his odd and 
 singular appearance, and that his lordship, in conferring the 
 honour of the invitation, slyly intended to amuse his own 
 friends by showing off the curiosity — a shrewd suspicion, char- 
 acteristic of that precocious knowledge of the world, which is 
 one of the chief, if not the very chief itself, of all the peculiarities 
 of the metropolitan youth, especially of that sharp and pert tribe 
 of them who, like the imps that infest th"^ road leading to 
 Paradise, chatter, frisk, and flutter in the avenues to the tribu- 
 nals of justice. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 A DINNER PARTY. 
 
 Ahdrkw having provided himself with the address of Sandy- 
 ford House, was at the door as punctually as the clock went the 
 hour. The knocker, at that moment, seemed to him too ponderous 
 for his hands to raise, uud uiLer pausing ibr about hulf u uihiuto 
 to recover courage, he tapped witli his knuckle, to announce his 
 claim for admission. Tiic porter, a saucy corjiulent fellow, 
 opened, and demanded wlial he wanted. " I am come to got 
 my dinner with my lord," was the reply. The corner of John 
 
 Swell's lipi 
 
 expression ( 
 
 the footma 
 
 pened to c 
 
 ducted hin 
 
 guests, wit' 
 
 of his appr 
 
 Andrew 
 
 stuirs, he r 
 
 observe th; 
 
 night, he 
 
 suddenly fl 
 
 tation to tl 
 
 The servai 
 
 fusion, and 
 
 mind, he c 
 
 stopped all 
 
 ind'j 3d h 
 
 reflect, on s 
 
 the saucy ' 
 
 awkward \ 
 
 advanced I 
 
 step, and t 
 
 cottage of 
 
 and was u 
 
 slightest i 
 
 that agree 
 
 he knows 
 
 ford, who 
 
 character, 
 
 eyes on hii 
 
 oddity wh 
 
 towards li 
 
 raised hin 
 
 a friend. 
 
 " Mr ^^ 
 freedom v 
 
 "Sayn 
 
 3. 
 
 ^h. 
 
CHAPTER XVI. — A DINNER PARTY. 
 
 65 
 
 Swell's lips crooked of their own accord down-Rard into an 
 expression of ineffable contempt and exclusion, when, fortunately, 
 the footman who had carried the invitation to Vellum's, hap- 
 pened to come into the hall, and, recognizing our hero, con- 
 ducted him up stairs to the drawing-room, where the other 
 guests, with the earl and countess, were waUing, in expectation 
 of his approach. 
 
 Andrew was agitated and confused; but in ascending the 
 stulrs, he recovered sufficient presence of mind to enable him to 
 observe that the house was the same, which, on the preceding 
 night, he had believed was one of the theatres; and the idea 
 suddenly flashed upon him, that he owed the honour of the invi- 
 tation to the simplicity of his Scottish manners and appearance. 
 The servant who showed him the way, had observed his con- 
 fusion, and when Andrew paused, as this notion came across his 
 mind, he conceived him to be overwhelmed with diffidence, and 
 stopped also, with a sneer, being aware of the motives which had 
 ind'j 3d his master to invite him to dinner. But a moment's 
 reflect, on set a'l thing's right with our hero, and he seemed, to 
 the saucy valet, to undergo a marvellous transmutation, from an 
 awkward vulgar boy, into an easy and confident gentleman. He 
 advanced towards the door of the drawing-room with as light a 
 step, and as cheerful a countenance, as he ever approached the 
 cottage of his schoolmaster with the chat and jokes of the village, 
 and was ushered into the splendid company without feeling the 
 slightest embarrassment ; on the contrary, he wei-t forward in 
 that agreeable state of self-possession, which a man feels when 
 he knows it is in hia power to dispense pleasure. Lord Sandv- 
 ford, who possessed an acute perception of the latent powers of 
 character, perceived, by lue change, on the instant he threw his 
 eyes on him as the door opened, that he was not the entire simple 
 oddity which he had at first imagined, and immediately went 
 towards him, and shook him by 'U' hand, in a manner that 
 raised him at once, as it were. Into the eciualitv and footing of 
 
 a friend. 
 " Mr Wylie," said his lordship, " I ought to apologise for the 
 
 freedom which I have taken with you." 
 " Say nan mair about it, my lord," interrupted Andrew ; " I 
 3. » 
 
 pP 
 
66 
 
 SIB ANDEEW WTLIE. 
 
 1 fi 
 
 maun pay lor my experience of the world as weol as my betters ; 
 hut it was an awfu' thing though." 
 
 This simple reply was received s orij""! ii hunicur, {>v.d inwh 
 amused the high-bred assemblage, both by ^s gusto and fami- 
 'liarity. Sir Timothy Kiiicletty, the ronnoisseur, who was of 
 the party, depl..u<.'d it was i.r-j'.y a la Teniers. 
 
 When they had descended to the dining-room, the Indies \. 3re 
 particularly anxioia to sharf f>ar hero amonf^ them; but he put 
 an end to the controversy, by takir.g tlu^ scat of hoaim'- between 
 the Duchess of Dashingwell and ihe C ountes.-, who, indepon ■ 
 dont of their rank, \rere the two finest wometj in the room. Her 
 g. iico was p. blithe, open-tempered character, that could carry a 
 kke tts great a length as any lady of her class. 
 
 Durinf- dinner, nothing for some time particularly occurred. 
 Andrew, with a quick and cunning eye, observed the etiquettes 
 of the table as they were performed Ly others, and acquitted 
 himself without committing any extr^iardinary breach of the 
 wonted ceremonials ; in this respect he .vas indeed superior to 
 many a scion of nobility, from Eton or Oxford. The Duchess 
 
 of D led him on in conversation, and he said a number of 
 
 droll and naif things, which were received as bon-mots of the 
 most racy flavour. Peels of laughter bore testimony to all the 
 house with what success he sustained his character, and as the 
 wine mounted, his confidence rose. Before the end of the second 
 course he was in high glee, and perfectly at his ease ; insomuch, 
 that the very servants in attendance could with difficulty main- 
 tain the requisite taciturn decorum of their office. But all 
 restraint of duty, place, and circumstance, were in the end over- 
 whelmed, when, in reply to an invitation from her grace to take 
 wine with her, he exckiimed, " Na, leddies, if ye gar me drink 
 at this rate, the wine will be running in my head, and I'll be 
 kittling you till ye keckle or a's done; so look to the conse- 
 quences." 
 
 Lord Sandyford enjoyed the scene with a relish to which he 
 had long been a stranger ; but the counte s vas the least affected 
 of the whole party by the simplicity or li «• of Andrew. Her 
 ladyship, however, maintained throughr ' ^ ik evening a graceful 
 p: ' ; 'ety, that admirably becanr.v . " on. She seldom con- 
 
 ;-->v5 
 
CHAPTER XVI. — A DINNEB PABTT. 
 
 67 
 
 descended to laugh; still, at times, a pleasant, ringing, cheerful 
 sound came from her heart, that showed she tould enjoy the 
 pleasantries of life as jocundly as her neighbours. On these 
 occasions her lord would look at her, as if startled by some 
 unexpected note of pleasure, but in a moment her hilarity was 
 suppressed, and she was as cold and formal as befou. 
 
 The evening's entertainment had, however, generally the effect 
 of inspiring the earl with a grateful feeling towards x\ndrew ; 
 for it is one of the blessed consequences of hearty laughter, to 
 stir into action all the kindly humours of the mind; and his 
 lordship determined to have him for his frequent guest. The 
 
 rest of' the company, particularly the Duchess of D , was 
 
 scarcely less delighted with his eccentricities; and when, after 
 returning to the drawing-room, she persuaded him to sing, he 
 fairly won her heart, and was chosen a regular invitant to all 
 her parties for the winter. Indeed, to do him justice, in the 
 choice of his song he displayed equal taste and judgment, and 
 the execution was worthy of the choice. His song was that 
 ludicrous enumeration of goods and chattels, beginning with 
 " My father wi' his deeing breath," in the performance of which, 
 flushed with the Tuscan, he addressed himself so eagerly to her 
 grace, snapping his fingers with exultation, and nodding and 
 winking, that she was obliged to throw herself on a sofa, holding 
 both her sides, exclaiming, " For the love of heaven, stop him— 
 stop him, or I shall die!" 
 
 The sagacity with which Andrew had thus improved the first 
 impression of his peculiarities, taught him instinctively to choose 
 tliat happy moment for taking leave, when the effect he had 
 produced was liveliest. At the end of his song he accordingly 
 sprang away, as if he had suddenly recollected himself, crying, 
 " Megsty me, what am I about, daffing till this time here, when 
 I hae got a codicil to copy to a dying man's last will and testa- 
 ment!" And with that, giving a ludicrous nod for a bow, he ran 
 down stairs, and hastened home. 
 
6S 
 
 Iff' ' 
 
 i ! 
 
 SIE ANDREW WYLIE. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 noRRowufo. 
 
 The first winter thus passed with our hero in a manner that 
 most young men would have deemed enviable, and the prudent 
 regarded as fraught with danger to his future fortune ; but his 
 simplicity remained invincible to the blandishments of pleasure, 
 and the sterling worth of his innate character raised him more 
 and more in the estimatirn of Lord Sandyford. 
 
 One morning, on going to chambers, he found Mr Vellum 
 tho.ughtful and vexed. He had been, on the preceding evening, 
 engaged with money-lenders, relative to an additional mortgage, 
 which was immediately required for the earl, and the negotiation 
 had not been satisfactory. The money was obtained; but on 
 such terms, that he was almost afraid to communicate them to 
 his lordship — not that he had any reason, from his experience of 
 the earl's disposition and temper, to apprehend that his lordship 
 would trouble himself for a moment on the subject ; but he felt, 
 as a man of business, that he had not been so happy in his 
 management as on other similar occasions. .- 
 
 After sitting some time, turning over the memoranda of the 
 transaction, and casting about in his thoughts for what he should 
 say to the earl, he happened to look towards the desk where 
 Andrew was earnestly employed at his vocation, his little round 
 smooth-haired head following his pen as if it was slowly rolling 
 on the paper ; and it occurred to him, that perhaps no fitter 
 envoy could be employed in the business than the droll and 
 uncouth oddity before him. From what had already taken place 
 between him and the earl, the humour and peculiarities of 
 Andrew seemed likely to render the communication less dis- 
 agreeable to his lordship, than his own dry and regular method 
 of explaining the circumstances, and he summoned him at once 
 from the desk. 
 
 " You must go, Wylie," said he, " to Lord Saudyford with 
 these papers. They contain some matters resp'jcting the loan 
 
 of twenty the 
 ship." 
 
 " Twenty 
 Andrew. Bi 
 continued — " 
 obtained on b 
 the city is d 
 and money c 
 on terms I ai 
 " I wish— 
 thegither twe 
 at heck and i 
 at yon gait." 
 Vellum w£ 
 observation ; 
 selected him 
 give his lordi 
 find him in t 
 " Atweel I 
 " for he's a fi 
 a wee thougl 
 ray lord an( 
 wished." 
 
 Vellum w£ 
 inquisitively 
 them?" 
 
 " Me hear 
 ken nobody 
 have twa he 
 hearken at t 
 gaun on in t 
 Vellum, is i 
 man than a 
 formality." 
 
 " You are 
 as he handec 
 in this h\iy<: 
 Andrer.\ 
 
 lU' 
 
CHAPTER XVII. — BORROWING. 
 
 69 
 
 of twenty thousand pounds that I have procured for his lord- 
 ship." 
 
 "Twenty thousand pounds!— barro't money!" exclaimed 
 Andrew. But his master, without noticing the exclamation, 
 continued—" And you will tell him, that it really could not be 
 obtained on better terras ; that, in fact, at present every thing in 
 the city is drained by an instalment of the government-loan ; 
 and money can only be raised with the utmost difficulty, and 
 on terms I am almost ashamed to state." ' / 
 
 "I wish— I wish," said Andrew, "that my lord may baud 
 thegither twenty thousand pounds a' at ance ; and wasting baith 
 at heck and manger, wi' bardie leddies and whirligig fool-fellows 
 at yon gait." 
 
 Vellum was folding up the papers while our hjero made this 
 observation; and a little relieved from his. anxiety by having 
 selected him for his minister, said jocularly, " You may as well 
 give his lordship a word of advice on the subject, Wylie, if you 
 find him in the humour." 
 
 " Atweel ni no grudge to do that," replied Andrew, seriously ; 
 " for he's a fine man, and his leddy a most discreet woman — only 
 a wee thought ouer muckle ta'en up wi' hersel'. It's a pity that 
 my lord and her dinna draw thegither so weel as could be 
 wished." 
 
 Vellum was startled by this remark, and looking earnestly and 
 inquisitively at Andrew, said, " Have you heard any thing about 
 them?" 
 
 " Me hear about them ! What could I hear about them ? I 
 ken nobody that's acquaint wi' ony o' them save yoursel' ; but I 
 have twa holes in my head, and as many windows, and I can 
 hearken at the ane, and keek out at the ither, and learn what's 
 gaun on in the world just as weel as ither folk. My leddy, Mr 
 Vellum, is mair weel-bred in the parleyvoo style to her gude- 
 man than a kindly wife should be, and my lord fashes at her 
 formality." 
 
 " You are a strange creature, or I am mistaken," said Vellum, 
 as he handed him the papers ; " and I hope you will not blunder 
 in this bus'r.e' s." 
 
 Andrew,- he received them, assured his master that he 
 
I 
 
 70 
 
 SIR ANDREW WTLIK. 
 
 i^,'k\ 
 
 might otpeni he -would do his best endeavours both to give him 
 and the earl satisfaction, and, taking his hat, hastened to Sandy- 
 ford House, where he was immediately admitted. "What! 
 V.-ylie, are you sent?" cried his lordship, somewhat surprised 
 when our hero entered. 
 
 " For lack o' a hiHar i:u :-, my lord, the master bade me tak 
 thir papers to your lordship, and to teU you, that he was vera 
 sorry he couldna get the siller on ony thing like Christian terms 
 
 at this time." 
 
 His lordship smiled, saying, " I thought he knew that I never 
 expected it on any thing like Christian terms." 
 
 " It's a great soom, my lord," resumed Andrew, looking at the 
 earl from under his brows, " and maun hae ta'en a hantle o' 
 gathering and gripping to make it up ; and it's a sair pity that 
 it winna last lang wi' your lordship." 
 
 The earl, at this address, laid the papers on the table, and 
 begged Andrew to ' e seated. ^^ 
 
 "Whatwer. you observing, MrWylic, abc" ■ the money? 
 said his lordship, when Andrew had seated himself aloof from 
 
 the table. 
 
 » I was just saying, sir, my lord, that twenty thousand pounds 
 is a dreadful soom of money. It's a thousand pounds a-year, my 
 lord, at merchant's rate, o' dead loss." 
 
 " It is s'^ Wylie; but what then?" 
 
 " Nae, as to the what theti o' the business," cried Andrew, 
 in some degree ligh oned in his spirit, " that's your lordship's 
 liK'k out. But I ca.aia bear to see an honest gentleman riding 
 helter-skelter straight on to a broken brig, and no gie hiin warn- 
 
 mp". 
 
 ' This is at least ^ ^mething nc-v," said the earl to himself, a 
 little interested, and with n kindly exci foment of ^onsibility 
 towards his friend ; Ri^.' l;e then added, " I am tertainly obliged 
 
 to YOU, Wylie." 
 
 " Ye're 'naii> )ligated to me," cried Andrew ; " it's ihe part 
 o' honesty to • you n the road ye're in; but, as Burns says 
 to the de'il, ' U would } .■ tak a thought ;ind men',' for really, my 
 lord, I'm wae for you. A man o' your < -ree can neither work 
 nor want, and what will become o' you when a's gane to a 'f 
 
 ni tell you 
 
 millstone al 
 
 a rung, anc 
 
 the house. 
 
 jamphrey tl 
 
 let them ke 
 
 Sir. my lor 
 
 that fool ai 
 
 the mains 
 
 would gie 
 
 seeking yo 
 
 llie drap at 
 
 no even a 
 
 " The p 
 
 is not witl 
 
 me to do ? 
 
 " It woi 
 
 your lords 
 
 would do 
 
 man." 
 
 " Yes, ' 
 man are t 
 oively. 
 
 " ^ne 
 the n 
 someve/, 
 the ravell 
 will can i 
 furniture 
 often gar 
 Theea 
 at the fn 
 indignati 
 pauF^ed, 
 tone. " 
 guests." 
 "The 
 little abc 
 
CIIAPTEE XVII. — llOBROWING. 
 
 71 
 
 rU tell you what it is, my lord, before I would 1 • hinging ae 
 millstone about my neck after anither in this gait, I would take 
 a rung, and thrash every ane o' your het and fu' flunkeys out o' 
 the house. Devil do me gude o' them, and o' the other clam- 
 jamphrey that are eating you out of house and hall, but I would 
 let them ken what twenty thousand pounds are in as many paiks!^ 
 Sir. my lord, if ye'U believe me, there was no ae single ane o' a' 
 that fool antic mob of latherons and merry-andrews, devouring 
 the mains more here the ither night wi' their gallanting, that 
 would gie your lordship a bawbee for auld langsyne, if ye were 
 seeking your meat frae door to door in a cauld winter's day, wi' 
 ihe drap at your neb, and the toar in your ee, and no ae handfu', 
 no even a cauld potatoe, in yi-.u meal-pock." 
 
 " The picture is strong," said the earl emphatically ; " but it 
 is not without some true portraiture. What would you advise 
 
 me to do?" . 
 
 " It would be out of a' bounds o' discretion for me to advise 
 your lordship," replied our hero. " I'm only speaking o' what I 
 would do mysel' ; but then I'm neither a lord nor a married 
 
 man." ,11. • j 
 
 " Yes, Wylie, yes ; you are right. The lord and the married 
 
 man are two serious considerations," said the earl a little pen- 
 
 iively. 
 
 "Ane of them," cried Andrew, briskly, is bad enough; but 
 the make a case that would puzzle Solomon himsel'. How- 
 someve.-, sir, my lord, I can tcU you ae thing, and that is, redde 
 the ravelled skein wi' my leddy, and aiblins baith you and her 
 will can spare some 0' the cost and outlay that ye're at for livmg 
 furniture, the eating dishes and drinking decanters that ouer 
 often garnish your table." 
 
 The earl's colour went aud came during this speech uis eyes, 
 at the freedom of the allusion to Lady Sandyford, flashed wUli 
 indignation, but it was only for a moment. WTien A.:ire>r 
 ".aused, hU countenance was settled, and he said in an easy 
 tone. '"\ou have, I think, Wylie, but a poor opinion of my 
 
 guests." 
 
 "The folk are weel eneugh; but, as your lordship cares sae 
 Uttle about them, I wonder how ye can b- fashed wi' siclike." 
 
 i-ai 
 
''»'^ 
 
 72 
 
 SIR ANDREW WYLIE. 
 
 (1 
 
 if ill 
 
 ' 1 1 
 
 :! . 
 
 
 
 I 
 
 
 " How do you know that I care little about them?" said the 
 eavl, half amused, but surprised at the remark. 
 " As the auld sang sings," said Andrew, 
 
 " • Them that gant 
 Something want, 
 Sleep, meat, or making o'." 
 
 And ye'll excuse my freedom, sir, my lord ; but I have seen, 
 mair than once or twice, that your lordship was no in a vera 
 satisfied situation, notwithstanding the merriment and daffing 
 around you." 
 
 " How ? " cried the earl, and bit his lips. " But, Wylie, what 
 makes you suppose that there is what you call a ravelled skein 
 between me and Lady Sandyford?" 
 
 The jocular tone in which his lordship uttered this sentence, 
 was calculated to throw Andrew off his guard ; but it produced 
 no change in the earnest simplicity with which he was endea- 
 vouring to fulfil the orders he had received from his master, 
 with respect to recommending economy to the earl. 
 
 " I meant no offence," replied Andrew respectfully ; " but I 
 thought the best way for your lordship to begin to retrench, 
 would be by trying to do with as little company as possible ; 
 and, if my leddy might be brought to the same way of thinking, 
 it would be a blithe thing for you baith." 
 
 Andrew paused, for he observed a cloud passing over the earl's 
 expressive countenance, and a mutual silence for some time en- 
 sued ; during which, his lordship rose and walked towards the 
 window. Our hero also left his chair, and was standing on the 
 floor to make his how of leave, when the earl turned round. 
 " Wylie," said his lordship playfully, " can you speak of trees, 
 from the cedar that is in Lebanon, even unto the hyssop that 
 springeth out of the wall ?" 
 
 " It's no right o' your lordship," replied Andrew seriously, 
 " to make a fool o' the Bible, by likening me to King Solomon 
 the wisest man that ever was in the world ; so I wish your lord- 
 ship a vera good morning. But hae ye ony thing to say to Mr 
 Vellum anent the twenty thousand pounds ?" 
 
 "What can I have to say ?— I wanted the money — he has got 
 
 it— and I dout 
 take back the i 
 " Sir, my lo 
 at the papers." 
 The earl sr 
 them up and ( 
 hands, and saii 
 to do." 
 
 Andrew sh( 
 
 moment look* 
 
 thing in the 
 
 vibration at t 
 
 towards the d 
 
 even after th 
 
 minutes to ga 
 
 " I have h 
 
 soliloquy, mo 
 
 on a sofa ; " 
 
 thought risei 
 
 wholesome e 
 
 this little dis 
 
 bipeds I hav( 
 
 take such br 
 
 he know tha 
 
 — I have no 
 
 he had slain 
 
 his lordship 
 
 and covering 
 
 The Eai 
 he had su 
 
CHAFTEB XVU. — BOEKOWING. 
 
 73 
 
 it— and I doubt not has made the best bargain in his power ; so 
 take back the papers, and tell him to prepare the deeds.' 
 
 " Sir, my lord," cried Andrew, petrified, " ye hae never lookit 
 at the papers." 
 
 The earl smiled, and stepping towards the table, gathered 
 them up and counted them ; he then placed them in Andrew's 
 hands, and said, " I have looked quite as much at them as I wish 
 
 to do." 
 
 Andrew shook his head as he received the papers, and for a 
 moment looked compassionately at the eari. There was some- 
 thing in the motion and the look that produced an electrical 
 vibration at the heart of his lordship, and as our hero moved 
 towards the door and retired, he followed him with his eye ; and 
 even after the door was closed, stiU he coi^tinued for several 
 minutes to gaze in that direction. 
 
 " I have hitherto lived among machines," said the eari, in 
 soUloiiuy, moving from the spot, and throw) Jg himself carelessly 
 on a sofa ; " but this is a human being ; 'c has brains, in which 
 thought rises naturally as water-well from the ground, the 
 wholesome element of temperance ; it has a heart too ; and in 
 this little discourse has ol.own moie of man than all the bearded 
 bipeds I have ever met with. What am I to him, that he should 
 take such brotherly interest in my desolation? and how should 
 he know that it is caused by my wife ? My wife !-What wife ? 
 —I have no wife ; scarcely so much of one as Othello had when 
 he had slain the gentle Desdemona." And in saying these words, 
 his lordship rolled his head over towards the back of the sofa, 
 and covering his face with his handkerchief, lay seemingly asleep. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 AM ACCIDKMT. 
 
 The Eari of Sandyford was r.n only child. In his fifth year, 
 he had succeeded to the family honours and estates. The 
 

 1 
 
 
 
 1% 
 
 
 t 
 
 1 " ■■ ''■' 
 
 
 
 
 , • 
 
 i 
 
 Mt 
 
 
 Jp 
 
 ) 
 
 WT 
 
 m 
 
 74 
 
 SIR ANDREW WYLIE. 
 
 
 :k. 
 
 
 countess, his mother, was one of those kind of respectable ladies, 
 who, at their exit from the stage of life, are declared, in the 
 obituary of the newspapers, to have been of the nature of pearls 
 ai;d precious stones— ornaments to their sex. Her husband be- 
 queathed to her the principal direction of his son's education. 
 The young lord was the last of his immediate line, and, in the 
 event of dying without issue, the estates and titles devolved on 
 the remote descendant of some collateral ancestor. The dowager 
 felt it no less her duty, on this account, to cultivate his affections 
 for the domestic virtues, in order that he might be early induced 
 to form a suitable matrimonial connexion, than to provide all the 
 proper and requisite means for the development of his talents 
 and the formation of a character, which, she was persuaded, 
 would reflect lustre on his country. 
 
 With this view, his education was entirely domestic ; but con- 
 ducted by masters eminently qualified, till he reached his six- 
 teenth year, when he was sent to college. The counters, at the 
 same time, assiduously preserved an old intimacy with the 
 Avonside family, the daughters of which promised to excel their 
 mother, who had been one of the most celebrated beauties of her 
 day, and whose many amiable qualities were far dearer in the 
 recollection of iier friends, than the charms of her person, or the 
 graces of her manners. She died while her children were all 
 young ; but in the marquis, their father, it was thought they 
 had a wise and excellent protector. Unfortunately, however, 
 after her death, he devoted himself, as he said, entirely to public 
 business, and left them in the liands of hired instructors, who 
 were only anxious that they should be distinguished for the 
 elegance of their external acquirements. 
 
 In the course of this intimacy, the countess had, in due time, 
 the satisfaction to observe that Lady Augusta, the eldest, began 
 to interest the youthful admiration of her son ; and it soon be- 
 came an understoodWiing, among the respective friends of tho 
 two fatnilic?, that, when his lordship camo of age, a marriage 
 would, in all probability, take place. 
 
 We shall not dwell on intervening circumstances; Lord 
 Sandyford, at college, was allowed to possess talents of p, very 
 high order. The most sanguine expectations were formed of 
 
 him by his a 
 
 department i 
 
 who judged 
 
 he would ext 
 
 Avho most e 
 
 cherished thi 
 
 manent gloi 
 
 parties were 
 
 Lady Au^ 
 
 her accompl 
 
 beauty, but 
 
 bring out al 
 
 forms and li 
 
 aimost as ft 
 
 Nature deli 
 
 art. She v 
 
 ness of mir 
 
 but her apo 
 
 the brilllar 
 
 to see her 
 
 decorum ii 
 
 her singuU 
 
 Slu' bad 
 
 deluded bj 
 
 care of hei 
 
 that the n 
 
 •)btain an 
 
 "Men," ai 
 
 to her pni 
 
 daughter 
 
 has no cl 
 
 she rende 
 
 can affor 
 
 Lady An 
 
 It mig 
 
 been Jet( 
 
 \)ride of 
 
 laxed in 
 
 .MmfggtMf^fmm^ 
 
f. 
 
 CU\PTEIl XVIII.— AN ACCIDENT. 
 
 7.1 
 
 him by his acquaintance ; l.ut some of them differed as to , the 
 d partment in'which he .vas hkely to excel The ambitiou 
 
 r ^d^ed of him by ins occasional animation, predicted that 
 
 :X u lexa the political reno.n of his country ; but those 
 
 Ihrmost esteemed the milder movements of his character, 
 
 trished the hope, that his genius would add to her more per- 
 
 ma" nt glory in the quiet pursuits of a literary life. Both 
 
 he„Ushed lover' She was not only -dowed -th .^a 
 bcautv but an education, conducted with admirable skiU to 
 Sg ^ut 111 the showy portions of her character m their fairest 
 tZ and Uvelicst colours, had adorned her with many e egancies 
 a rstt fascinating as that charming ^r^V^flJ^^^^^^^, 
 Nature delights to set at defiance the graceful endeavours ot 
 She was not witty, np. did she possess any of that sunni- 
 oiii. ""= _...*' , . >.!,„ „^;i„o nf o-nnd humour 
 
 ■lit She was not wmy, "m* "*" -^ — r -' 
 
 Zs of mind, which beams out in the smiles of good humour 
 but her ^-thegms had often the force of wisdom, and sometim 
 the br rLcy as well as the barb of satire. It was impossible 
 see her ^bout admiration, but there was a systema1.ca 
 d ,corum in her deportment, which diminished the debght that 
 her singular beauty was naturally calculated to inspire 
 
 Sho had, in fact, been educated for the market of fashion, ad, 
 deluded V the so;did maxims of Mrs Harridan, to whom the 
 fe of her youth had been unfortunately entrusted, she behevec 
 ; at the main object in th. life of a young -<^j;^^lfj^;^)^^ 
 ibtain an establishment becoming the dignity of her family. 
 -xMen," as that antiquated artificer of manners woulu often say 
 to her pupils, "are all either mercenary or capricious; and the 
 daugh 'r of a duke, if she is not rich, and few of them are so, 
 tfno chance of marrying according to her -dition unk^^^ 
 he render herself interesting to the vanity of such «oWemen as 
 can afford to indulge their fancies in the «--« f^vfctt 
 Lady Augusta gave credit to her precepts, and >va:^ their victim 
 TmigM have been thought, considering how soon it^h. 
 been determined that Lady Augusta was destine, t. be the 
 \Z of Lord Sandyford, that Mrs Harridan would have re- 
 laxed in hor efforts to form an artificial characier, which, if she 
 
 lalt^-q 
 
76 
 
 SIE ANDREW WTLIE. 
 
 
 had possessed any true judgment of the world, she must have 
 perceived could not fail in the end to excite the aversion of the 
 earl; but her system was neither to make homes happy nor 
 wives amiable. She had an interest of her own to serve; and, 
 actuated by the same mercenary motives as the music-masters 
 whom she employed, was only solicitous about the effect which 
 her pupUs might produce on their appearance in society. The 
 eclat of a splendid general deportment she knew would redound 
 to her own advantage; and for this she neglected to cultivate 
 those gentler graces which constitute the true strength of female 
 dominion. 
 
 One thing, however, resulted from her system; but perhaps 
 It depended more on the effect of individual feeling, than as a 
 necessary consequence of the plated virtues which she so assidu- 
 ously polished. The desire to obtain approbation quickened the 
 sense of shame, and gave it even a morbid acuteness. To this 
 feeling Lady Augusta was nervously alive; and where there is 
 shame there may yet be virtue. 
 
 The day after Lord Sandyford came of age, the marriage was 
 celebrated; but before the honey-moon had half waned, it was 
 evident to the most cursory visiter, that his lordship had im- 
 bibed some secret cause of distaste against his beautiful bride 
 By the end of the third month, to the amazement of aU the 
 world, ho was wildly running the career of dissipation. 
 
 The dowager, his mother, was broken-hearted by this unex- 
 pected result, and her distress was consoled in the usual man- 
 ner by a number of sympathizing friends, not all females, who, 
 m thoir maUcious consolation, often remarked, that after all 
 sooner or later, men will indemnify themselves for the restraints 
 laid upon their youth; and that the good old way of Icttino- 
 young fellows sow their wild oats was evidently the best, as i*? 
 was doubtless the result of practical wisdom and experience. 
 Uc therefore," said these honoiirnbl*. personages, "do not 
 despair yet of seeing Lord Sui..Ijiord puii up, and turn out a 
 very shining character." Nothing, however, v farther from 
 tho chanty of their hopes; and several years passed away, with- 
 out niiy thing arising to make them doubt that his ruin was 
 irretrievable. 
 
 In the msi 
 
 elegant depoi 
 
 beauty, and l 
 
 ledged throu 
 
 also received 
 
 ing the enig 
 
 him the conj 
 
 except on tin 
 
 plate and ho; 
 
 taining, how 
 
 of civility, w 
 
 the same pai 
 
 One nigh 
 
 opera, her ( 
 
 Street, ran a 
 
 the moment 
 
 Ferrers, one 
 
 of fashion. 
 
 erous, quick 
 
 pardons; bi 
 
 which preve 
 
 in life, the c 
 
 ties. The i 
 
 turf and the 
 
 sations, and 
 
 voured with 
 
 losses sharp 
 
 infatuation. 
 
 period "f w 
 
 and althoug 
 
 like the gen 
 
 ready toucl 
 
 manifested 
 
 but tiiC eUi 
 
 impetuous, 
 rage and j) 
 pursuits, wl 
 ho attained 
 
CIIAPTEB XV:n. — AN ACCIDENT. 
 
 77 
 
 In the mean time, no afparent change had taken place in the 
 elegant deportment of the countess. She was still radiant with 
 beauty, and the splendour of her accomplishments was acknow- 
 ledged through all the constellations of fashion. Her prudence 
 also received its due share of commendation ; for, notwithstand- 
 ing the enigmatical career of her lord, she still preserved with 
 him the conjugal decorum of living under the same roof. But, 
 except on those occasions, when it was necessary to exhibit the 
 plate and hospitality of the family, they seldom met; still main- 
 taining, however, towards the world that well-bred reciprocity 
 of civility, which justified their acquaintance in asking them to 
 the same parties on the same card. 
 
 One night, as her ladyship was returning home from the 
 opera, her carriage, in crossing from Picadilly into Berkley 
 Street, ran against a gentleman who happened to be passing at 
 the moment, and seriously hurt him. The stranger was Mr 
 f\ Ferrers, one of the most eccentric orbs then above the horizon 
 of fashion. This gentleman, in his youth, was ardent and gen- 
 erous, quick in his resentments, easily offended, and frank in his 
 pardons; but there was a versatility of humour about hira, 
 which prevented him from making friends, and, as he advanced 
 in life, the career which he ran tended to impair his best quali- 
 ties. The succession of anxieties which he suffered from the 
 turf and the hazard-table, excited a false Jippetite for acute sen- 
 sations, and all pleasures seemed to him vapid that were not fla- 
 voured with a mixture of apprehension ar.d even of danger. His 
 losses sharpened his feelings, and his success was a spur to his 
 infatuation. This distempered state ol excitement had, at the 
 period "f which we are speaking, attuined a dcgi\;e of frenzy; 
 and although in manners the unhr.ppy man conducted himself 
 like the generality of the circle in which he moved, he was al- 
 ready touched with madness. His insanity, however, had not 
 manifested itself in avy instance of remarkable extravagance; 
 but tlie currents of lus mind and thouglits w»re troubled and 
 impetuous, and frequently tempestuous gusts, and whirlwinds of 
 rage and passion, urged him with a headlong rashness in hia 
 pursuits, whatever they happened to be. As often, however, as 
 ho attained possession of his object, the paroxysm immediately 
 
78 
 
 SIB ANDREW WYLIE. 
 
 '! m 
 
 \\ . 
 
 i 
 
 I'tr 
 
 subsided, and he paused, as it were, and looked round, as if he 
 stood wondering at what could have instigated him into such 
 precipitation and violence. 
 
 During the neriod that he was confined to his room by the 
 accident. Lady Sandyford, with wliom he had no previous 
 acquaintance, frequently sent to enquire for him ; and the effect 
 of this natural, indeed, under the circumstances, indispensable 
 politeness, inspired him with a frenetic enthusiasm of gratitude 
 towards her ladyship ; insomuch, that when he was in a condi- 
 tion to mix again in society, he sought her out in all places with 
 an impassioned ze^*! that belonged alike lo his mental infirmity 
 and his character; and he was so open and singular in this, 
 that he soon attracted the eyes of the world towards him. 
 
 The countess was a neglected wife ; but such had been the 
 pride of her carriage, that no man had ever ventured to address 
 her with one improper expression ; and such the sustained 
 dignity of her deportment, that no circumstance had yet occur- 
 red to require the slightest exertion of the latent powers of her 
 own mind. She was, however, struck at last with the assi- 
 duities of Ferrers; and having a distinct perception of the 
 shattered state of his understanding, instead of repelling or 
 rebuking his pertinacity, she stooped, if the term may bo 
 allowed, with a compassionate condescension, which, contrasted 
 with her usual cool and collected demeanour, begot surmises 
 prejudicial to her honour. These, for a time, were only to be 
 met with, like rare coins that serve for counters at the select 
 whist-tables of the fates of reputation ; but at last they got into 
 general circulation among the small change of scandal at the 
 club-bouses. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 A PARAGRAPH. 
 
 On the morninjy preceding one of Lady Sandyford's grand 
 winter parties, as the eail was sitting alone in the library, after 
 
 he had just fir 
 his chair with 
 as float in the 
 dent occurred 
 It was the cusi 
 papers with a 
 expeditiously, 
 was also as re 
 was going on 
 master and m 
 accused the c 
 preserve peaci 
 men that it v 
 with the smo( 
 in to his lord 
 In this obi: 
 liamentary pi 
 earl took in 
 could not en 
 •was rung si 
 ordered. 
 
 Tlic tone 
 servant who : 
 companions, 
 their contriv 
 therefore it 
 equivocate ai 
 iiccordingly 
 There was 
 footman wh 
 master. He 
 linger in tli 
 retire. 
 
 The inter 
 mentary del 
 Instead of I 
 his eyes to \ 
 
CHAPTER XIX. — A PABAGBAPII. ' » 
 
 he had just finished his breakfast, and thrown himself back in 
 his chair with his feet on the fender, nursing such aimless fancies 
 as float in the haze of an imagination clouded by ennui, an inci- 
 dent occurred which precipitated the crisis of his conjugal disease. 
 It was the custom of the servants in the hall to dry the wet news- 
 papers with a smoothing-iron, which not only did the business 
 expeditiously, but gave them the lustre of the hot-press. It 
 was also as regularly their custom to inform themselves of what 
 was going on in the world, before taking in the papers to their 
 master and mistress. By this, a paragraph that pretty plainly 
 accused the countess of infidelity was discovered. In ordcv to 
 preserve peace in the house, it was suggested by one of the foot- 
 men that it would be as well to bu'-n it out, as if by accident, 
 with the smoothing-iron. This was done, and the paper carried 
 in to his lordship. 
 
 In this obliterating operation a portion, however, of the par- 
 Hamentary proceedings was destroyed ; and little interest as the 
 earl took in them, or indeed in any earthly concernment, he 
 could not endure a disappointment; the bell, in consequence, 
 was rung sharply, and another copy of the paper forthwith 
 
 ordered. 
 
 The tone in which this command was delivered alarmed the 
 servant who received it, and he communicated his opinion to his 
 companions, that tlieir master had certainly, notwithstanding 
 their contrivance, made out some of the defaced paragraph, and 
 therefore it would he as good as their places were worth, to 
 equivocate any more in such circumstances ; another paper was 
 accordingly procured, and presented to his lordship. 
 
 There was an air of embarrassment in the appearance of the 
 footman who carried it in, which struck the keen eye of his 
 master. He seemed to hesitate as he laid it on the table, and to 
 linger in the room; insomuch, that the earl ordered him to 
 
 retire. 
 
 The interest which hud been excited in reading the parlia- 
 mentary debate had, during this little interruption, subsided. 
 Instead of turning to it again, his lordship carelessly allowed 
 his eyes to wander over the small talk in the liishiontiblc depart- 
 
80 
 
 SIR ANDREW WTUE. 
 
 ment, and the first paragraph that caught his attention was the 
 one whi. h alluded to the infidelities of Lady Sandyford. 
 
 He read it twica over emphatically — he rose from his seat 
 and walked to the window— he then returned, and read it again. 
 Happening to glance over the page, he saw that it was exactly 
 on the back of the passage in the debate which had been burned 
 out. " These rascals," he exclaimed, "are acquainted with the 
 guilt of their mistress, and it was no accident that occasioned 
 the burning of the other paper." 
 
 His first movement was to call in the servants and question 
 them on the subject ; but in the same mo;nent he reflected on 
 his own carelessness as a husband, and witixirew his hand as it 
 was stretched towards the bell-pull— mortified with himself that 
 the sense of honour should make him hesitate to vindicate his 
 conjugal rights. In this crisis the countess entered, and his 
 lordship rising abruptly, moved towards the door, as if he had 
 resolved not to t:peak to her ; but before turning the bolt, he 
 paused and said, with an agitated voice, poin.'ing to the news- 
 paper, " Your ladyship will find an interesting paragraph among 
 the scandalous innuendos of the day ;" and in saying these words, 
 he hurried out of the room. 
 
 The countess hastily seized the newspaper, and on looking at 
 the paragraph, suffered an inexpressible feeling of humiliation ; 
 her piide was laid prostrate, and she sat for several minutes in 
 a state of stupefaction ; for she was conscious of never having 
 been guilty of any levity, and had taken no small merit to her- 
 self for the dignity with which she had endured, at first, the 
 spleen, and subsequently the negligence, of her lord. In the 
 course, however, of a few minutes, she recovered her self-pos- 
 session, and ringing the bell, dir(>cted cards to be instantly issu .d, 
 to inform her friends that her assembly for that night was 
 deferred. With equal decision, she at the same time ordered 
 the carriage, and drove to Mrs Harridan's, for the purpose of 
 taking her advice. 
 
 On reaching the residence of that lady, she was at once ad- 
 mitted by the servants ; but on entering the room where their 
 mistress was sitting, she perceived, by the cool ceremony of her 
 
 
 reception, tl 
 fatal paragri 
 troduce the 
 
 " I hope," 
 foundation i 
 Sandyford, i 
 interfere. I 
 highly irapr 
 young ladie 
 business. S 
 such sort oi 
 advantage." 
 
 The couE 
 exclaiming, 
 from you as 
 
 " Far be 
 polite tone, 
 insignificant 
 Sandyford u 
 
 " I thoug 
 " that I mi 
 mother." 
 
 " I trust,' 
 \vas under n: 
 duet then w 
 sible for th( 
 world. In a 
 prove prejuc 
 of the kind 
 have long h 
 pupils after 
 your lailysh 
 to hazard tli 
 with protoui 
 our intercou 
 
 Tlie coun 
 addressed ir 
 considering 
 
 3. 
 
CHAPTER XIX. — A PABAGBAPH. 
 
 81 
 
 on was the 
 .rd. 
 
 m his seat 
 id it again. 
 ?ras exactly 
 een burned 
 id with the 
 occasioned 
 
 id question 
 eflected on 
 
 hand as it 
 imself that 
 idicate his 
 d, and his 
 1 if he had 
 le bolt, he 
 
 the news- 
 iph among 
 lesc words, 
 
 looking at 
 imiliation ; 
 minutes in 
 ?er having 
 Tit to her- 
 ; first, the 
 i. In the 
 r self-pos- 
 itly issu .;!, 
 night was 
 le ordered 
 )urpose of 
 
 ; once ad- 
 here their 
 any of her 
 
 , 
 
 reception, that JIrs Harridan was already acquainted with the 
 fatal paragraph ; a short preface, in consequence, served to in- 
 troduce the object of her visit. 
 
 " I hope," said Mrs Harridan, calmly, " that there is no real 
 foundation for this slander ; but, at all events, my dear Lady 
 Sandyford, it is not an affair in which I can with any propriety 
 interfere. Besides, now that things are so public, it would be 
 highly improper in me, considering my situation, with so many 
 young ladies of rank under my care, to be at all seen in the 
 business. Surely you have other friends, more experienced in 
 sucli sort of misfortunes, to whom you can apply with more 
 advantage." 
 
 The countess looked at her with surprise and indignation, 
 exclaiming, " You speak as if I were guilty! You throw me 
 from you as if I brought infection with me ! " 
 
 " Far be it from me," said Mrs Harridan, in the same quiet 
 polite tone, " to suppose any such thing ; but I am much too 
 insignificant a person to take the reputation of the Countess of 
 Sandyford under my protection." 
 
 " I thought," cried her ladyship, almost bursting into tears, 
 " that I might, in any distress, have applied to you as to a 
 mother." 
 
 " I trust," replied Mrs Harridan, " that when your ladyship 
 was under my charge, you always lound me such, and your con- 
 duct then was certainly irreproachable ; but I cannot be respon- 
 sible for the behaviour of ladies after hey have entered the 
 world. In a word, should the result of this unfortunate business 
 prove prejudicial to your ladyship, it will not be the first instance 
 of the kind that I .'s confirmed me in the prudence of a rule I 
 have long laid down, never to interfere in the concerns of my 
 pupils after they have once left my house. I shall rejoice if 
 your la»Iyship is acquitted of the Imputation, but I cannot put 
 to hazard the character of my establishment ; ami it is therefore 
 with profound puin I feel myself constrained to put an end to 
 our intercourse." 
 
 Tlie coun.tss was thunderstruck. She had never before been 
 addressed in the plain language of a business mind, sordidly 
 considering its own interests, and pursuing them in tuntempt of 
 
 8. r 
 
 f, 
 
82 
 
 SIB ANDREW WYLIE. 
 
 all the sympathies and charities of social life. She rose from 
 her seat, but trembled so much, that, unable to stand, she sunk 
 back in the chair, and gave way to her tears. Her spirits, how- 
 ever, soon rallied, and wiping her eyes, she returned abruptly to 
 her carriage, and drove directly home, where she dispatched a 
 messenger for the Marquis of Avonside, her father 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 AN EXPLANATION. 
 
 The earl, on leaving the countess, walked into the square, with 
 the intention of going down to St James's Street ; but for the 
 first time in his life he felt that indesi'vibable embarrassment 
 which is so often mistaken for shame. He shrunk at the idea of 
 meeting the eyes of his acquaintance, conscdoiiN that they must 
 have already seen the paragraph, and could not determine how 
 he ought to act in cireumstances so painful and unexpected. In 
 the hositatiou which these reflections caused, he happened to 
 recollect that Mordaunt, a college companion, whom he had not 
 seen for several years, had left hi., card for him the day before, 
 und he instantly resolved to go to his lodgings, and consult him 
 on the subject. Accordingly, instead of walking down Bond 
 Street, he crossed into Hanover Square, and, by the back of St 
 George's Church, went through the narrow passage leading into 
 Saville Row ; thus avoiding the great thoroughfares in his way 
 to Sackville Street, where his friend lodged. 
 
 On reaching the house, and being informed that he was at 
 home, lie walked up stairs, unannounced, to the first floor. His 
 appearance would have been a sufficient warranty for this liberty 
 to the sei'vdui who opened the door, even had his person not been 
 almost universally known thn)ughout the three fashionable 
 parishes, and especially in the vicinity of St James's Street. 
 For, notwithstanding the dexterity and effect of dress and address 
 iu the adventurous knights of the order of expedients, there is 
 
 still an habi 
 unquestioned 
 servants intv 
 landladies a: 
 stranger sho 
 gloss of a su 
 some worshi 
 nearest his e 
 
 His lordsh 
 room door ca 
 and being di 
 his eyes hast 
 pale attenual 
 and handson 
 ever, he disc 
 the earl war; 
 ness of the d 
 but ashamei 
 pulled his h 
 tingling witl 
 you dryads' 
 bruised my ; 
 
 The mam 
 lion in it, wl 
 he looked fo 
 emaciation o 
 and compass 
 and he excla; 
 His lordship 
 amined Mon 
 gravity, said 
 that hue is 
 from many i 
 honour, Moi 
 the blessing 
 rural allegoi 
 then paused 
 
CHAPTER X 
 
 -AN EXPLANATION. 
 
 83 
 
 still an habitual and obvious source of superiority about the 
 unquestioned gentleman, which all the various degrees of public 
 servants intuitively recognize, and none more quickly than the 
 landladies and domestics of lodging-houses, even though the 
 stranger should be fresh from the country, and in the newest 
 gloss of a suit made on purpose for the journey to London, by 
 some worshipful dignitary in the corporation of the borough 
 nearest his estate. 
 
 His lordship, on reaching the landing-place, flung the drawing- 
 room door carelessly open. Mordaunt at the moment was writing, 
 and being disturbed by the nonchalance of this intrusion, raised 
 his eyes hastily, and did not at the first glance recognize, in the 
 pale attenuated elegance of the man of fashion, the once vigorous 
 and handsome rival of his boldest exercises. In an instant, how- 
 ever, he discovered who he was, and starting from his seat, took 
 the earl warmly by the hands. His lordship endured the hearti- 
 ness of the double shake for a few seconds with evident pleasure, 
 but ashamed to show the sensibility that he felt, he abruptly 
 pulled his hands away, and shook his fingers, as if they were 
 tingling with the squeeze, saying, " I wish the gods had given 
 you dryads' and fauns' hoofs for hands; you have positively 
 bruised my fingers to jelly." 
 
 The manner in which this was said, had a cadence of affecta- 
 tion in it, which struck disagreeably on the ear of Mordaunt, and 
 he looked for a moment at the delicate complexion and elegant 
 emaciation of his friend, with a strong feeUng of disappointment 
 and compassion ; but his kinder disposition returned upon him, 
 and he exclaimed, " Heavens ! Sandyford, what an altered being ! " 
 His lordship, with a drolling coolness, in the same moment ex- 
 amined Mordaunt curiously from heaci to foot, and with burlesque 
 gravity, said, " These muscles are the growth of nocturnal rest, 
 that hue is gathered from the morning sun, and that strength 
 from many a stubble field and mile of hill and dale. Upon my 
 honour, Mordaunt, you are lliu most perfect personification of 
 the blessings of a country life I have ever se( » — absolutely a 
 rural allegory — Apollo fresh from the flocks of Peneus." He 
 then paused in his railery, and taking Mordaunt, with the 
 
84 
 
 SIR ANDREW WTLIE. 
 
 ]H! 
 
 
 1 ! 
 
 sincerity of their old friendship, by the hand, added, I cannot 
 express liow delighted I am to see you, and to see you thus." 
 
 " And you thus, Sandyford," replied Mordaunt, recollecting 
 the bright expectations which had once been cherished of liis 
 friend. 
 
 " I am indeed not surprised that you should be somewhat dis- 
 concerted, for I believe that I am a little spectrish ; and it is 
 certain that I have been long thought no more," said his lord- 
 ship. 
 
 There was a degree of sensibility in the manner in which the 
 latter part of this sentence was expressed, that vibrated to the 
 generous heart of Morc^aunt, and, without answering, he drew 
 the earl to a seat, and resumed his own chair at the table. 
 
 " But," said his lordship, gaily, " these things must not be 
 thought of in these ways. What may the business be that has 
 brought you to town, from the peaceful shades, and the inno- 
 cence of the groves ? " 
 
 Mordaunt, equally desirous to change the conversation, which 
 he saw troubled his lordship, said, " Matrimony." 
 
 "You are indeed a bold fellow to venture on a town-bred 
 wife," cried the earl ; " I really thought that the simple race of 
 the swains had been extinct ; particularly, as the poets have of 
 late given them up, almost even in the way of rhyme. But you 
 surprise me — who is the Chloe, that with ears more used to the 
 soUnd of bells and the rattling of wheels, than to the singing of 
 birds or of falling waters, has captivated the gentle Damon?" 
 
 " Matters are not quite so pastoral with us as that," replied 
 Mordaunt. " The nymph is an old acquaintance of your own, 
 Julia Beauchamp." 
 
 "The beautifulJulia ! " exclaimed his lordship with unaffected 
 emotion, recollecting that he had not seen her since his own 
 ill-fated marriage ; but he suppressed the remembrance, and 
 said, with animation, " The faithful loves then do still reside 
 among the sylvan bowers." But this play of fancy memory 
 again interrupted, and presented' the image of Lady Sandyford, 
 in that glowing beauty which had first charmed his youthful 
 affections, when he beheld her in the graces of her virgin years, 
 
 
 bounding lil 
 
 the venerabl 
 
 with the CO 
 
 paused, and 
 
 " You are 
 
 Mordaunt a 
 
 " I am on 
 
 not be a fitt 
 
 comforts of 
 
 precipice — ] 
 
 daunt, at tli 
 
 nieed of a fr 
 
 any thing a 
 
 "My lord 
 
 "The lap 
 
 me little ; t 
 
 world, the I 
 
 Nothing is 
 
 affair is so 
 
 But do not 
 
 tonishment 
 
 thing so sir 
 
 or I too shf 
 
 been long i 
 
 deficient in 
 
 "Who is 
 
 "Pray, d 
 
 to disguise 
 
 sentimental 
 
 the woman 
 
 society — m 
 
 the world ; 
 
 will not all 
 
 exposure w 
 
 make mon< 
 
 His lord 
 
 his marriaf 
 
CHAPTER XIX. — AN EXPLANATION. 
 
 85 
 
 bounding like the fawn amidst the stately groves that surround 
 the venerable magnificence of her ancestral home — contrasted 
 with the condition into which she had fallen, and he suddenly 
 paused, and remained some time silent. 
 
 "You are indisposed, Sandyford — what is the matter?" said 
 Mordaunt anxiously. 
 
 "I am only thinking," replied his lordship, "that there can- 
 not be a fitter moment for communicnting son- *ion of the 
 comforts of matrimony, than when a man is on vi ge of the 
 precipice — Pshaw! — I must speak out. You are here, Mor- 
 daunt, at that moment of all my life in which I stand nio«t in 
 need of a friend— a friend such as you are. Have you heard 
 any thing about Lady Sandyford?" 
 
 "My lord!" cried Mordaunt, in extreme astonishment. 
 "The lapse of the countess," continued his lordship, "affects 
 me little ; but according to the maxims of that old rascal, the 
 world, the business has become so public, that I must interfere. 
 Nothing is bad in London so long as it is unknown, and this 
 affair is so notorious, that it is very bad— O, shockingly bad ! 
 But do not listen to me with such a look of strange wonder — as- 
 tonishment is now quite obsolete, nobody submits to do any 
 thing so simple. Do assume a virtue, though you have it not, 
 or I too shall forget myself. In a word, Mordaunt, I had not 
 been long married when I discovered that Lady Sandyford was 
 deficient in the most essential quality of a wife — the heart." 
 "Who is the seducer?" said Mordaunt, emphatically. 
 "Pray, don't be so tragical, I beg you won't," cried the earl, 
 to disguise his own emotion. "You consider this afiair too 
 sentimentally. Believe me, I have been long indifferent about 
 the woman. I wish but for a good reason to be well rid of her 
 society — my respect for her family, as I shall of course say to 
 the world; but to deal more plainly with you, my own conduct 
 will not allow me to do more. Besides, the disgrace of a public 
 exposure would break the proud heart of her father, nor can I 
 make money by the dishonour of my wife." 
 
 His lordship then proceeded to tell his friend, that, soon after 
 his marriage, he discovered that the whole mind of Lady Sandy- 
 
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86 
 
 SIR ANDREW WYLIE. 
 
 ford was bent on the figure which she herself would make in 
 society, by which she had disgusted his feelings and embittered 
 his existence. That, giving way to the poignancy of disap- 
 pointment, he had rushed into the follies of the town, which, 
 however, instead of alleviating the irksomeness of his condition, 
 only exasperated his reflections, t.ud drove him, with redoubled 
 frenzy, into a fresh career of dissipation; during which the 
 countess pursued her own triumphant self-exhibition, and 
 reached the summit of her ambitious vanity. 
 
 *'I thought," said his lordship, "that pride, if not virtue, 
 would, however, have preserved her; but she has fallen; and, as 
 in all similar cases, the husband is among the last that hears 
 the news." 
 
 lie then related the incident of the burned newspaper, and the 
 paragraph. 
 
 Mordaunt agreed, that from so public a circumstance there 
 must be some grounds for the suspicion, and recommended that 
 the servants should be examined. 
 
 "But," said the earl, "even were she guilty, I do not mean to 
 institute any process for a divorce. Your head, however, is 
 cooler than mine, I will be guided by you." 
 
 "Ah, my lord!" cried Mordiiunt, "do not say to me that 
 you can regard with indifference the misfortunes, far less the 
 dishonour, of a beautiful woman, to whom you were at one time 
 so passionately attached." 
 
 After some further conversatioriy. it was arranged that Mor- 
 daunt should immediately go to Lady Sandyford, and that the 
 earl should, in the mean time, remain in Sackville Street, and 
 wait the result of the interview. 
 
 While Mordaunt was absent on this interesting mission, his 
 lordship sat for some time reviewing, with no favourable con- 
 struction to himself, ihe rapid perdition of so many years of the 
 best portion of his life. In the course of this reckoning, he 
 blamed himself still more than in the morning, for the precipi- 
 tancy with which ho had, in a temporary tit of spieen, endea- 
 voured to cancel the affection which ho had cherished for his 
 lady, and the folly of casting himself so thoroughly away, on 
 account of a disappointment which it would have been more 
 
 n 
 
CHAPTER XXI. — AN EVENT. 
 
 87 
 
 1 make in 
 
 embittered 
 
 of disap- 
 
 wn, which, 
 
 condition, 
 
 redoubled 
 
 ■which the 
 
 dtion, and 
 
 not virtue, 
 en ; and, as 
 that hears 
 
 ler, and the 
 
 ance there 
 tended that 
 
 manly to have mastered. " But," said he, " it is never too late 
 to mend, and the sooner I begin the change the better." 
 
 In the same moment he seated himself at Mordaunt's table, 
 and wrote a note to Mr Vellum, requesting him to bring, on 
 the following morning, a statement of his affairs. This was 
 requisite, in order to enable him to regulate his generosity with 
 respect to a iiettlement on the countess ; and it was also required 
 with a view to his own future conduct ; for he was well aware 
 that he had deeply encumbered his estates, and that, before he 
 could enter upon a new course of life, it would be necessary to 
 abridge the prodigality of his household. The writing of this 
 note to his solicitor was, perhaps, the only decisive step he had 
 taken for a number of years, and he felt, when it was done, some- 
 thing analogous to that glow of satisfactiun, enjoyed by the 
 strong or the bold after a successful exertion of strength and 
 dexterity. 
 
 ot mean to 
 lowever, is 
 
 'o me that 
 Par less the 
 it one time 
 
 that Mor- 
 id that the 
 Street, and 
 
 aission, his 
 irable con- 
 yeara of the 
 koning, he 
 he precipi- 
 3en, endea- 
 hed for his 
 y away, on 
 been more 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 AM EVENT. 
 
 When the countess, after her return from Mrs Harridan, had 
 sent for the marquis her father, our hero had occasion to call at 
 Sandyford-House from Mr Vellum. Her ladyship having inad- 
 vertently given no orders to be denied, ho was shown into the 
 room where she happened to be then sitting. A visit from 
 Andrew was little in accordance with the state of her feelings, 
 but she received him as usual; he soon, however, discovered 
 that something was the matter, and said, " I'm thinking, my 
 loddy, it's no vera convenient for me to be here, so I'll just go 
 awa' at ance — but I hope my lord's weel, and that it's no ony 
 liiiug aaent him liiaf » fashing your ladyship." 
 
 The publicity of a newspaper paragraph, and the familiarity 
 with which Andrew was treated, removed any delicacy that 
 might otherwise have been felt by the countess on the subject, 
 
88 
 
 Sm ANDREW WYLIE. 
 
 :^ 
 
 and she replied, " No; stop where you are;" and she then ex- 
 plained the cause of her anxiety." 
 
 "Really, I dinna wonder ye're vext," said our hero; "but 
 every body kens the newspapers live by the decking o' lees ; 
 and I think, before you or my lord gie them either credit or 
 consequence, it would be as weel to sift the truth o't. I'm, as 
 ye ken, my leddy, but a novice ; howsomever, aiblins I may be 
 o' spark o' use in this ; so I'll get at the bottom o' the clash, an 
 it be for nae mair than to show my gratitude for the great 
 ceevilities that I am beholden for, baith to your leddyship and 
 my lord," and he instantly rose to go away, saying, jocularly, 
 " Keep a good heart, my leddy, a foul lie is no so durable as 
 pock-mark ; it can be dighted off." 
 
 " True ; but the stain it leaves behind," said her ladyship, 
 with a sigh. 
 
 " A snuff o' tobacco about stains ; your leddyship's character's 
 no a gauze gown or a worm web, to be spoilt with a spittle, or 
 ony other foul thing out of the mouth of man." And in saying 
 these words he took his leave, with that customary bob of the 
 head which served all the purposes of a graceful bow. 
 
 The moment that the countess mentioned the paragraph, he 
 ha<l recollected that there was a young man in o" " the news- 
 paper offices, of the name of Nettle, of whom ho ome slight 
 acquaintance; and it occurred to him, that by iiis means he 
 might be able to reach the author of the slanrler. This Nettle 
 had been educated with a view to the pulpit, but his disposition 
 being loose and satirical, his father sent him to study the law 
 under John Gledd. At the end of his apprenticeship. Nettle, 
 according to the practice of the profession, went to Edinburgh, 
 to complete his studies in the office of a writer to the signet, 
 where he mingled with the swarm of minor wits that infest the 
 Parliament House, and being naturally clever, acquired a taste 
 for pfolite literature, and sharpened his talent for satire. He 
 possessed an amusing and lively fancy— indeed, so lively, that 
 it proved prtjudicial to himself; for while it rnndered his com- 
 pany exceedingly diverting, it made him dislike his business, 
 and in the end threw him upon the streets of London, a mere 
 literary adventurer. In this state he fortunately obtained em- 
 
 , 
 
CHAPTER XXI. — AN EVENT. 
 
 89 
 
 , 
 
 plojTnent as a reporter; and at the time when our hero came to 
 London, he was not only in considerable reputation as such, but 
 was also a general contributor to most of the metropolitan perio- 
 dical works, particularly the reviews, in which the pungency of 
 '"his wit was more remarkable than the soundness of his judgment. 
 Our hero had brought an introductory letter to him from their 
 old master; but he soon saw that the habits and disposition of 
 Nettle were not congenial to that sober system of perseverance 
 which he had laid down for the government of his own con- 
 duct. 
 
 On quitting Sandyford- House, Andrew went directly to the 
 office where Nettle was employed, and it happened to be that of 
 the very paper in which the mischievous paragraph appeared ; 
 lii fact, the paragraph had been penned by Nettle himself, who, 
 having accidentally heard something of the rumours in circula- 
 tion respecting Lord and Lady Sandyford, formed, in his own 
 imagination, a complete and plausible conception of the whole 
 intrigue in which it is supposed her ladyship had been engaged; 
 and when, from the ordinary channel, he received an account of 
 the preparations for her party, b' was in consequence tempted 
 to write the paragraph, in order to anticipate a denouement, 
 which, according to his notions, would necessarily take place 
 soon, perhaps in the course of that evening. 
 
 Andrew had some difficulty in gaining access to Nettle, nor 
 was he admitted until he had sent notice that he wished very 
 earnestly and particularly to see hini, " on business of the utter- 
 most importance." 
 
 " Well, and what's this business of the uttermost importance 
 that you have got with me?" said Nettle, laughingly. 
 
 " It's a thing wherein your helping hand, Mr Nettle, can be 
 o' a great sufficiency," replied Andrew, sedately. " My master, 
 Mr Vellum, has one Lord Sandyford for a client, and something 
 has been put out in the papers this morning concerning his leddy, 
 tlie whilk is like to breed a terrible stramash." 
 
 Nettle was instantaneously smitten with the horrors of a pro- 
 secution for a libel, and the satirical mirthfiilness with which he 
 had received Andrew, was turned into anxiety. 
 
90 
 
 SIE ANDREW WTLIE. 
 
 " Indeed ! " he exclaimed, " what is it ; what has it been about ? 
 in what paper has it appeared ? " 
 
 "I can tell you naething o' a' that," said Andrew; "but I 
 would gie a plack and a bawbee to ken the author. Noo, Mr 
 Nettle, as ye're acquaint wi' a' the jookery-cookery of newsmak- 
 ing, I thought that aiblins ye're in a capacity to throw some 
 light on the subject." 
 
 Nettle was alarmed and disconcerted. It wts of no less im- 
 portance to him, that the object of our hero's visit should be 
 concealed from his own principals, than that the author should 
 remain unknown to the offended parties. 
 
 "But are you sure, Mr Wylie," said he, "that the paragraph 
 alluded to applies to Lady Sandyford?" 
 
 " It surely does that," replied Andrew, " or it wouldna hae 
 been so kenspeckle." 
 
 Nettle requested Andrew to wait till he could find the paper, 
 to look at it, but in reality to ^ain a few minutes for considera- 
 tion. 
 
 " The paragraph is, I see, in our paper," said Nettle, return- 
 ing with the paper in his hand: "but it does not apply to Lady 
 Sandyford. It can only have been supposed to allude to her 
 ladyship, by having followed the account of the preparations 
 for her assembly." 
 
 Andrew, on looking at it, saw that this explanation was feasi- 
 ble; indeed that, without the context, it was a very harmless 
 pasquinade; and he observed, "But it's been an awfu' mistake, 
 Mr Nettle. Is there no a possibility of an explanation?" 
 
 "O yes !" cried Nettle gaily, relieved from his apprehensions, 
 by perceiving the harmless nature of the paragraph when con- 
 sidered by itself; and aware that, if the matter should ever 
 come to any legal issue, it would be in his power to plead the 
 advertisemental account of the preparations, by producing the 
 original paper from which it was taken, and arguing that the 
 paragraph was a separate and distinct communication. "0 
 yes!" he ropiled, "it Is easy to remove entirely the impression 
 produced by this mistake: but Andrew, ye should know that 
 folks in London cannot afford their time for nothing; and that 
 
 f 
 
t been about? 
 
 Irew; "but I 
 )r. Noo, Mr 
 of newsmak- 
 i throw some 
 
 f no less im- 
 3it should be 
 .uthor should 
 
 lie paragraph 
 
 wouldna hae 
 
 nd the paper, 
 or considera- 
 
 ettle, retum- 
 pply to Lady 
 lUude to her 
 preparations 
 
 on was feasi- 
 ery harmless 
 (vfu' mistake, 
 ition?" 
 jprehensions, 
 h when con- 
 should ever 
 to plead the 
 "oducing the 
 ing that the 
 ication. " O 
 e impression 
 1 know that 
 ]g; and that 
 
 ClIArTEB XXI. — AN EVENT. 
 
 91 
 
 characters, like other things, when they are bought must be 
 
 paid for." 
 
 "Very true, Mr Nettle," said our hero drj-ly; "and when 
 
 they are stown, the thief maun not only make restitution, but 
 
 may be made to suffer punishment." 
 Nettle looked at Andrew, incredulous to his own ears, not 
 
 having previously conceived him possessed of any such acute- 
 
 ness; and his newly recovered self-possession was completely 
 
 overset, when Wylie added, "I fear and doobt, Mr Nettle, that 
 ye ken mair about this than ye let on; and I would council you, 
 as a frien', to put your shoulder to the wheel, and get out o' the 
 mire, and on your way rejoicing, wi' a' the speed ye dow.^ For 
 if there's to be ony compounding about this black job, it will 
 hae to come frae your side— but I say naething. My betters 
 Avill judge for themselves. If you hae brewed gude yill, ye'll 
 drink the better. A lie's a lie ony hoo, Mr Nettle; and a leddy 
 o' quality's name is no to be blotted wi' newspapers' ink wi' im- 
 punity; so ye'll just comport yoursel', Mr Nettle, as ye think 
 
 right." 
 
 The reporter, finding he had not the simpleton to deal with 
 that he had supposed— for his first idea was, that the countess 
 might be willing to pay handsomely for an effectual contradic- 
 tion of the slander— he changed his tune and said, "You have 
 misunderstood me, Mr Wylie; all I meant was, that before this 
 unfortunate mistake gets into the other papers, I could by my 
 influence stop it; but, as it must be at some expense to them, 
 and loss of time to me, I trust it will be considered." 
 
 "Considered?" cried our hero, indignantly; "a flail to the 
 laitheron's hurdles. Mr Nettle, I suspect and believe that your 
 ban's no clear o' the coom o' this wark. Get it wasli't— get it 
 wash't, or it may be dried wi' a hempen towel." 
 
 And so saying, be left the office, where the astonished Nettle, 
 who had not deemed him many degrees above idiocy, stood en- 
 chained to the spot. No time, however, was to be lost. In the 
 course of the briefest space possible. Nettle was round to all the 
 other offices, and got the scandal not only strangled, but even 
 paragraphs inserted, which had the effect of turning the suspi- 
 
.92 
 
 SIR ANDREW WYLIE. 
 
 t" 
 
 cion, so pointed against Lady Sandyford, entirely in another 
 direction. But to her, however, the mischief was done. 
 
 The business, on which Andrew had been sent to Sandj'ford- 
 House, was not of any very pressing importance, and he was 
 sensible that he had already greatly exceeded his time; but con- 
 fident that the service in which he was engaged would excuse a 
 much greater trespass, instead of going from the newspaper- 
 office to Mr Vellum's chambers, he went directly back to Sandy- 
 ford-House, and reached the door at the same time with Mor- 
 daunt, who, slightly glancing at his insignificant appearance, 
 regarded him as some tradesman's messenger, and was not a 
 little surprised when he was ushered, along with himself, into 
 the library. The countess was up stairs with her father. 
 
 "You belong to the family, I presume?" said the country 
 gentleman, with an accent of interrogation. 
 
 " I canna just say that," was Andrew's answer; "but I'm con- 
 cerned for them." 
 
 Mordaunt knew not what to think of his coni|janion, and 
 looked at him for a moment with an expression of the most 
 ineflFable scorn ; but the oddity of Andrew's appearance almost 
 instantly reversed his feelings. 
 
 While they were thus conversing, the Marquis of Avonside's 
 carriage, which had driven round the square, drew up at the 
 door, and immediately after his lordship handed the countess in, 
 and, taking his place beside her, was instantly conveyed home. 
 The servants in the hall were at no loss to guess the motives 
 and complexion of this proceeding; and one of the footmen, as 
 soon as the carriage had left the house, informed Mordaunt of 
 what had taken place. Andrew, on hearing this news, recol- 
 lected the old proverb, that no good was ever got by meddling 
 between man and wife; and prudently resolved to escape imme- 
 diately from the scene of action. 
 
 "Will ye, sir," said he to Mordaunt, "be pleased to tell my 
 lord, that Andrew Wylie was at the newspaper-office, and 
 found out there that thu \vliolc tot of the story about my 
 leddy's fox-paw, is just the clishmaclaver of a misleart reporter, 
 and he needna fash himsel' any mair about it." 
 "jNIay I ask, sir," said Mordaunt, supposing that Andrew be- 
 
 
T in another 
 lone. 
 
 I Sandyford- 
 and he was 
 ne; but con- 
 iild excuse a 
 newspaper- 
 !k to Sandy- 
 B with Mor- 
 appearance, 
 I was not a 
 limself, into 
 ather. 
 the country 
 
 3ut I'm con- 
 
 ^itnion, and 
 af the most 
 mce almost 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. — NEGOTIATION. 
 
 93 
 
 longed to some of the newspapers, which at that time were 
 chiefly in the hands of Scotchmen, "\'ith what paper you are 
 
 connected?" - -,, e 
 
 "Me connectit with a newspaper!— Na, na, sir; Imot an 
 honester trade— I'm learning to be a writer wi' Mr Vellum, a 
 very respectable solicitor in Lincoln's Inn. Only I hae been 
 doing a bit job between ban's for my leddy." 
 
 Mordaunt was still more at a loss than ever to comprehend 
 the office and character of our hero, and would have entered 
 into a conversation with him more particularly relative to the 
 newspaper; but Andrew was apprehensive that he had already 
 gone too far with a stranger, although, by the manner in which 
 Mordaunt conducted himself towards the servants, he perceived 
 that he considered himself on terms of intimacy with their mas- 
 ter. Under this impression, he therefore moved hastily to the 
 door, without replying to a question concerning the paragraph; 
 and, Avith a curious and significant look as he turned the bolt, 
 said, "I wish you a vera gude morning." 
 
 ' Avon side's 
 V up at the 
 countess in, 
 eyed home, 
 the motives 
 footmen, as 
 lordaunt of 
 lews, recol- 
 y meddling 
 sape imme- 
 
 to tell my 
 
 office, and 
 
 about my 
 
 rt reporter, 
 
 indrew be- 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 NEaOTlATlOtf. 
 
 When the earl was informed by Mordaunt that the countess 
 had left Sandyford-House with her father, he immediately 
 returned home, accompanied by his friend. Soon after this Sir 
 Charles Runnington called; and, on being shown into the 
 library, where they were still standing, he made a low and very 
 formal bow to the earl, and then stated that he was commis- 
 sioned by his noble friend, the Marquis of Avonside, to enquire 
 what his lordship had to allege against the conduct of Lady 
 
 Sandyford. 
 
 The earl, as well as Mordaunt, was puzzled by the narrow 
 and almost technical ground which the marquis had taken ; but 
 
94 
 
 SIR ANDREW WYLIE, 
 
 4 
 
 m' 1 
 
 I* ill 
 
 m 4 
 
 his lordship replied, " The countess herself best knows for what 
 . mson she has quitted her home." 
 
 " Upon that point," said Sir Charles Runnington, " I have no 
 instructions." 
 
 "Then," cried the earl, sharply, "the only answer I can 
 return is, let her ladyship say what she wishes me to do, and it 
 shall be insta^itly done." 
 
 " If I understood Lord Avonside clearly," answered Sir 
 Charles, "he is averse to any formal separation; and the 
 countess is not in a condition at present to come to any deter- 
 mination." 
 
 " Ever;- thing rests with herself," said Lord Sandyford, with 
 emotion. " I have nothing to desire, but that she may find 
 more happiness elsewhere tlian I fear she has done with me. I 
 cannot at this moment say what it is in my power to allow her 
 for a separate establishment, but to-morrow I shall. Assure her 
 
 that" He could say no more, but bowed to Sir Charles 
 
 and left the room. 
 
 " This is a most unfortunate affair," said Mordaunt. 
 "But not unexpected, I understand," replied Sir Charles, 
 " Her ladyship's family have long been aware of her situation." 
 " Indeed ! " cried Mordaunt ; " and how is it that Sandyford 
 was never informed ? Who is the paramour ? " 
 
 " Paramour ! " exclaimed Sir diaries, with indignation. " This 
 is adding cruelty and insult to the wrongs which she has already 
 suffered. Lord Sandyford knows that there is no guilt on her 
 part ; she has long been the victim of his negligence, and her 
 reputation is blasted by the consequences." 
 
 " This is dreadful ! " cried Mordaunt. " Do you mean to say, 
 that although the levity of her conduct has been so notorious us 
 to become the game of a newspaper pasquinade, that her hus- 
 band is entirely to blame ?" 
 
 "Sir," replied Sir Charies, formally, "I did not come from 
 my noble friend, her father, to enter into any controversy on the 
 subject. The eari agrees to a separation ; and, from his known 
 character, I doubt not the arrangement will be completed in a 
 satisfactory manner. I must confess, however, that I have been 
 
 
ows for what 
 
 1, " I have no 
 
 nswer I can 
 to do, and it 
 
 inswered Sir 
 an; and the 
 to any deter- 
 
 idyford, with 
 (he may find 
 with me. I 
 to allow her 
 Assure her 
 i Sir Charles 
 
 int. 
 
 Sir Charles. 
 ;r situation." 
 It Sandyford 
 
 itlon. "This 
 3 has already 
 guilt on her 
 ice, and her 
 
 mean to say, 
 notorious us 
 lat her hus- 
 
 come from 
 versy on the 
 1 his known 
 tipleted in a 
 I have been 
 
 
 CHAPTEK XXII.— NEGOTIATION. 
 
 85 
 
 surprised at his emotion ; he seemed much more affected than I 
 could previously have imagined." 
 
 " The character of my friend is, I find, not well known," said 
 Mordaunt ; " but I hope the separation will not be final." 
 
 " After what has taken place, and the experience they have 
 had of each other, it is the best thing that can now happen," 
 replied Sir Charles. " But his lordship will no doubt feel that 
 it is due to his own honour to investigate the newspaper calumny, 
 and to bear testimony to his conviction of his injured lady's 
 innocence." 
 
 " Is there no chance of our being able to effect a reconciliation 
 if she is innocent?" 
 
 " I will take no part in any proceeding having that for its ob- 
 ject," said Sir Charles. " My noble friend the marquis assures 
 me, that Lady Sandyford is one of the worst used wives in the 
 world. I rely on his lordship's honour and integrity for the 
 tnith of the statement ; and with that impression I should deem 
 myself base, indeed, were I to recommend any thing so deroga- 
 tory as the measure you suggest." 
 
 Sir Charles then left the room, and Mordaunt went to the 
 earl in his own apartment. 
 
 Sir Charles Runnington was a political adherent of the Mar- 
 quis of Avonside, and had been employed in several diplomatic 
 missions, in which, it was said, he showed great self-command, 
 and upheld the dignity of his sovereign with all propriety, but 
 none of his missions ever were successful. The parliame cary 
 adversaries of the marquis said, that H is was owing to his ina- 
 bility to understand the spirit of his ihatructions ; but it could 
 never be shown, that in any one instance, he did not adhere, with 
 a most surprising constancy, to the letter. Besides this political 
 connexion, he was related to the countess by her mother ; on 
 which account the marquis had requested his interference. But 
 although no man could well be really less qualified to manage 
 any affair of delicacy to a favourable and conciliatory issue. Sir 
 Charies possessed many external attributes, which may be termed 
 the minting of a gentleman— the marks which designate the coin, 
 but convey no idea of the intrinsic value and purity of the metal. 
 He was grave and fair spoken— precise in his language, erect in 
 
■^■■■i 
 
 W' ,> 
 
 ■ 
 
 t\ 
 
 
 -' - i 
 
 ■ 
 
 'f,;^ 
 
 ■ 
 
 
 
 |l;i* 
 
 90 
 
 SIB ANDREW WTLIE. 
 
 his carriage, neat in his dress, and his hair always powdered and 
 arranged exactly in the same manner as he wore it when first 
 introduced at court. 
 
 On returning to the marquis, he gave his lordship a very cir- 
 cumstantial account of what had taken place with the earl, and 
 also of what had passed with Mordaunt. 
 
 Although this report was the precise truth as far as it went, 
 yet it conveyed no idea of the manner in which his lordship had 
 been affected ; and even what was said, suffered in the repetition, 
 by the cold medium through which it was conveyed. 
 
 The marquis was, in some points of character, not unlike Sir 
 Charles, but he was older ; and what was precision in the one, 
 approaching to pedantry, was sedate pomposity in the other. 
 The accident of happening in the outset of life to be successful 
 in the management of some of those trifling parliamentary mat- 
 ters that the ministers of the day an in the practice of assigning 
 to the hereditary supporters of government, he was taken with 
 the conceit of being a statesman. In the deliberations of tlie 
 senate he always took a part, and talked long, and said as little 
 to the purpose as any other speaker on either side of the House 
 But, notwithstanding the prosing ineflicacy of his public conduct, 
 he was upon the whole what is called a steady character — 
 uniformly voting with every successive batch of ministers, and 
 never asking more than a reasonable share of official patronage. 
 In private life he was punctual and honourable ; and altho agh he 
 never said a witty thing, nor understood a wise one, he possessed 
 many of the most respectable traits in the domestic character of 
 an English nobleman. It is needless, however, to add, that he 
 was nevertheless not at all fitted to act the prudentest part in 
 the peculiarities of his daughter's situation. 
 
 He communicated to the countess a faithful account of what 
 Imd passed ; but his narrative was still more deficient in convey- 
 ing a true impression of what had taken place, than even that of 
 Sir Charles ; insomuch that her ladyship's humiliation was 
 grpHtly aiigmented to find that her husband was seemingly, as 
 it appeared to her, so glad to be rid of her on her own terms. 
 She said, however, nothing, but requested to be left alone ; and 
 the moment that her father had retired, she gave vent to her 
 
 
CIIAPTEE XXII. NEGOTIATION. 
 
 97 
 
 )ow(Iere(l and 
 it when first 
 
 ip a very cir- 
 the earl, and 
 
 ir as it went, 
 lordship had 
 le repetition, 
 i. 
 
 ot unlike Sir 
 n in the one, 
 n the other, 
 be successful 
 lentary mat- 
 i of assigning 
 s taken with 
 itions of t]ic 
 said as little 
 )f the House 
 blic conduct, 
 character — 
 linisters, and 
 il patronage, 
 ialthojghhe 
 he possessed 
 character of 
 add, that he 
 itest part in 
 
 mnt of what 
 it in convey- 
 even that of 
 liliation was 
 eoniingly, as 
 • own terms. 
 t alone ; and 
 vent to her 
 
 
 feelings in long-continued weeping. This greatly relieved her 
 mind, and she was able afterwards to reflect calmly on her 
 situation. She recalled to mind some of those inadvertent sar- 
 casms in which the earl first manifested his dislike of her passion 
 for what he called self-exhibition, and the artificial equality of 
 her manners, which he sometimes peevishly derided as hypocrisy ; 
 and she was sensible that there must have been some error in her 
 system, since it had failed to interest, or rather since it had 
 served to disgust, the only man whom she really cared to 
 please. 
 
 The behaviour, too, of Mrs Harridan had taught her also an 
 important lesson. In the course of their short interview that 
 morning, the sordidness of her art had been so plainly disclosed, 
 that it necessarily produced a deep and a resentful impression. 
 Lady Sandyford could not disguise to herself the practical illus- 
 tration which it afibrded of those maxims which she had been 
 instructed to respect as the essential principles of fashionable 
 life, as if there were any thing in fashion that could be at variance 
 with the ties and charms which constitute the cement of society. 
 The conflict of these reflections had an immediate effect on her 
 ladyship's mind ; and from that hour ^ihe resolved to act another 
 part, more agreeable to her own original lature and character. 
 The rock was indeed now struck ; and the stream that wat to 
 spread freshness in the desert of her wedded life, began to flow. 
 Her first inclination was to return immediately home to her 
 husband, and express to him frankly what she thought and suf- 
 fered ; but this a false pride prevented her from doing, even 
 while she confessed to herself that she had been too rashly in- 
 duced by her father to abando. j conjugal roof. 
 
 The marquis was obliged, or rather so felt himself, to attend 
 the House of Lords that evening ; he was indeed anxious to take 
 a part in the deuate, chiefly to show how lightly he considered 
 the derogatory predicament in , :iich his daughter had been 
 placed. Sir Charles Runnington was at the same time instructed 
 by his lordship to go round the e; ab-houses in St James's Street, 
 ir order to inform the most distinguished male gossips of those 
 fraternities, that the separation of the Earl and Countess of 
 Sandyford, so far from being occasioned by any imputed guilt 
 3. Q 
 
98 
 
 SIR ANDREW WYLIE. 
 
 
 t ,1 
 
 I 
 
 i'! Ifi 
 
 1 1 
 
 S I 
 
 on the part of her ladyship, was sought by herself, and advised 
 and sanctioned by her father. 
 
 When the marquis returned in the evening, he found the 
 countess alone in the drawing-room, comparatively at her ease, 
 and attended by Flounce, her own maid. As he had made what 
 he deemed an able speech, although it contained neither fact nor 
 argument to illustrate the expediency of the measure he en- 
 deavoured to advocate, he was on excellent terms with himself, 
 and complimented the countess on the fortitude with which she 
 sustained herself But instead of replying to him in the same 
 strain of good-humour, she briefly told him that she was arran- 
 ging with Flounce to q ait London next morning ; and that it 
 was her intention to go at once to Elderbower, the seat of the 
 dowager Lady Sandyford, her mother-in-law. 
 
 " Is your ladyship of a sound mind in this determination P" 
 exclaimed the marquis, in his oratorical manner. " Do you not 
 expose yourself to a most unwelcome reception ? — Reception, 
 did I say ? — It may be a repulse ?" 
 
 " No matter," replied the countess, in a calm, firm voice, " I 
 will niake the attempt. If I stay here, or if I go to any of my 
 own relations, I lend colouring to the slanders in circulation 
 against me ; but if I take up my abode with the mother of my 
 Imsband, and I am sure she will receive me kindly, the malice 
 of the world will be rebuked and silenced." 
 
 The countess perceived that her father was not satisfied with 
 the resolution she had taken ; but as it was the most expedient, 
 indeed the best which at the moment she could adopt, this gave 
 her no pain, and she soon after wished him good-night. 
 
 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 PERPLEXITIES. 
 
 During the remainder of the day after the countess left Sandy- 
 ford-House, the carl continued uneasy, irritable, and thoughtful. 
 
CHAPTEK XXIII. — PERPLEXITIES. 
 
 99 
 
 and advised 
 
 ! found the 
 at her ease, 
 
 made what 
 her fact nor 
 ure he en- 
 ith himself, 
 1 which she 
 in the same 
 
 was arran- 
 and that it 
 seat of the 
 
 mination ?" 
 Do you not 
 -Reception, 
 
 n voice, " I 
 any of my 
 circulation 
 ither of my 
 the malice 
 
 tisfied with 
 i expedient, 
 i, this gave 
 ht. 
 
 left Sandy - 
 thoughtful. 
 
 Mordaunt dined with him, and in the evening he began to rally 
 a little ; but in the midst of his jocularity, for he was naturally 
 disposed to indulge his fancy in a humorous play upon the pass- 
 ing topics of the moment, he would suddenly fall into fits of 
 abstraction, from which he as suddenly recovered himself, as if 
 awakening from a trance of which he had been unconscious. 
 His friend saw his mental struggle, and exerted himself in every 
 possible manner to draw him from the pressure of his unhappy 
 thoughts ; but all his elForts proved unavailing, and he at last 
 said, " Sandyford, this will not do ; you can lot, I perceive plainly, 
 meet this event with that indifference which you have affected, 
 and which you are so strangely ambitious as t' leavour still to 
 maintain, even before me." 
 
 " I confess it," replied his lordship ; " and I should have 
 borne it even more weakly had Augusta been really guilty ; but 
 how can I invite a reunion, when that old mandarin. Sir Charles 
 Runnington, declares my own behaviour has been such, that her 
 friends, as well as herself, are desirous of the separation ? Now, 
 if I had thought she cared half the value of an odd trick for me, 
 or even could but have cared, I would have been a very different 
 sort of a husband. However, the Rubicon is passed ; but one 
 thing at least I may still try, and that is to prove that I am not 
 altogether the irreclaimable Don Juan which the world so 
 charitably supposes." 
 
 Tho manner in which this was said, though generally in a 
 tone of freedom and gayety, had yet an accent of sadness that 
 moved the compassion of Mordaunt, and he contemplated the 
 endeavoured cheerfulness of his friend, as he would have looked 
 upon a sleeping infant covered with a lace veii —a sight which, 
 notwithstanding the health, the smile, and the bloom that shines 
 through, often suggests melancholy associations to the affectionate 
 heart. 
 
 " I think, Sandyford, you would feel yourself better, were you 
 to be more communicative," said Mordaunt. " There can be 
 nothing in your situation that a friend may not know." 
 
 " True," replied the earl ; " but a man seldom chooses his 
 friend to be the confidant of his sins. I have been worse, per- 
 haps, than you imagine, though I believe not quite so bad as the 
 
100 
 
 SIB ANDREW WYLIE. 
 
 Wki^ 
 
 world has represented me. But I have done enough of ill to 
 know that the task I undertake is not only to make a character, 
 but to recover one. However, let us bid adieu to the gloomy 
 pile of my concerns for the present, and tell me, Mordaunt, 
 something of your own — the affair with Miss Beauchamp. When 
 is the wedding to be ?" 
 
 " Why, to say the truth, my lord," replied Mordaunt, laugh- 
 ingly, " although it is a settled f iint between us, there is yet a 
 jreat impediment to be overcome. The baronet, her father, it 
 seems, many years ago, when Julia was but a child, made a com- 
 pact with his neighbour, the late Mr Birchland, that she should 
 be married to Jack Birchland, then quite a boy ; and if Birchland 
 will take her, he swears nobody else shall havr her." 
 
 " Ah, me ! for aught that ever I could learn, the course of 
 true love never did run smooth," cried his lordship ; " and Birch- 
 land will be a cursed fool if he don't, begging your pardon." 
 
 " Ay, but there are two words to a bargain — Julia has some- 
 thing herself to say in the business," replied Mordaunt. 
 
 "Then Birchland is really inclined to stand by the compact?" 
 said the earl. 
 
 "I'm half afraid he is; and, what is more, Julia herself has 
 some suspicion of the same sort." 
 
 "Now, I understand the whole affair," exclaimed the earl, 
 laughing and interrupting him: "you are come to London to 
 meet her, and a stolen match is in contemplation." 
 
 "You are mistaken," said Mordaunt, somewhat gravely ; "Miss 
 Beauchamp will not submit to any thing so derogatory to her- 
 self; but it seems that her cousin, Letitia Irby, has taken a fancy 
 for Birchland, and our immediate object is to make them man 
 and wife, and by that means frustrate or defeat the pertinacious 
 .'esigns of Sir Thomas," 
 
 "Tlicre are no such ingenious nest-builders, after all, as you 
 birds of the bowers," cried the earl, gaily; but checking himself, 
 added, "the plot is good— very good— but how is it to be 
 brought to a bearing?" 
 
 "Julia has persuaded her father to come to town," said Mor- 
 daunt, "and Miss Irby is with them. They arrived this morn- 
 ing. Birchland is expected in the course of a few days." 
 
ugh of ill to 
 e a character, 
 
 the gloomy 
 e, Mordaunt, 
 hamp. When 
 
 launt, laugh- 
 there is yet a 
 her father, it 
 marie a com- 
 at she should 
 
 1 if Birchland 
 
 :he course of 
 " and Birch - 
 • pardon." 
 lia has some- 
 aunt, 
 le compact?" 
 
 a herself has 
 
 led the earl, 
 to London to 
 
 ■avcly ; " Miss 
 atory to her- 
 taken a fancy 
 ie them man 
 ! pertinacious 
 
 cr all, as you 
 
 king himself, 
 
 is it to be 
 
 I," said Mor- 
 el this morn- 
 Jays." 
 
 CHAPTER XXUI. PERPLEXITIES. 
 
 101 
 
 
 "Were Birchland one of our town-bred sparrows, and not a 
 chaffinch of the grove, I should advise," replied the earl, "the 
 pretty Letitia to coo for lovers amidst her native shades; but as 
 I doubt not he is as guileless as a blackbird, no harm may come 
 of their billing even in a London cage. However, we shall see." 
 
 Mordaunt, during this sally, looked seriously at the earl, and 
 said gravely, " Your mind, Sandyford, I am sorry to see, is 
 accustomed to regard lightly some things which you were once 
 in the habit of considering very differently. Birchland were a 
 villain, if he could take advantage of a fond girl's innocent 
 affections." 
 
 His lordship blushed, and was for a moment out of counte- 
 nance, but recovering his usual familiarity, replied, " You John 
 Bulls of the country serve up your morality in the husk ; a man 
 of pleasure among you cannot taste a kernel, without being 
 supposed to have cracked the Decalogue. That same word 
 villain, is a whoreson phrase — dowlas, filthy dowlas," — but he 
 added, in a tone so deep and emphatic, that it made the heart of 
 Mordaunt vibrate in sympathetic anguish, " The word, however, 
 suits the action, but, in using it, I suppose you forgot at the 
 moment what my wife and her friends think of me." 
 
 Mordaunt for several seconds was unable to make any answer, 
 and then he added, " Your whole life, Sandyford, has been a 
 riddle. The town term of it has distressed all those who esteem- 
 ed you, and who cherished expectations which you were once 
 able to realize." 
 
 " I am still able," cried the earl, with a generous confidence 
 in his own powers ; " but the jade must go to grass. I intend, 
 Avith all convenient speed, to settle my townly affairs, and then 
 begin another course of being at Chastington-hall — an elysiuni, 
 as my mother has often told me, where the manes of my ances- 
 tors, in the shape, I suppose, of old portraits, would scowl their 
 brave encouragement on my emulous endeavours to revive the 
 faded lustre of their blood. But to that, like to many other of 
 the good old dowager's saws and sayings, I have been no better 
 than the infidel. However, I am resolved for a time to take up 
 my abode at Chastington, and by the post to-day I sent orders 
 to prepare for my reception. Were you not so engaged, I would 
 
Utf, 
 
 1^ 
 
 lJ<,< jl.l 
 
 IT- ' 
 if ' 
 
 \i' 
 
 102 
 
 SIR ANDREW WTLIE. 
 
 ask you to go with me, for I believe it is a" huge old Ann-Rad- 
 cliffe place, a spectrey surrounded by a rookery, which I was on 
 the point at one time of selling on account of its distance from 
 town, and the red-haired bumpkins, that came up from it occa- 
 sionally to see London, and to keep their lord and lady in hot 
 water, and their fellows in the hall in laughter, all the time they 
 stay." 
 
 Mordaunt smiled at the latter reason for parting with the an- 
 cestral residence of all the Sandyfords. 
 
 "Upon my honour," said his lordship, "there is more truth 
 in it than you think. You can have no conception how much 
 we were plagued by the sons of the patriarchal fixtures of Chas- 
 tington-hall, coming here to learn the craft and mystery of foot- 
 manry ; and the worst of it was, that, after they were initiated 
 in all the tricks of the trade, I was obliged to give them charac- 
 ters to my acquaintance, in the perfect conviction that any 
 principle of honesty or sobriety, which they brought with them 
 from the country, was entirely lost in this house. The posses- 
 sion of the place made me, indeed, feel as if I kept a roguery 
 for the supply of the London market; and conscience, with a 
 few secondary considerations arising from losses at play, urged 
 me to part with it. But nobody could be found rich enough, or 
 foolish enough, to make the purchase." 
 
 " Surely you have never seen Chastington," said Mordaunt, 
 shocked that his lordship should think with so much levity of 
 parting with a domain and mansion which, for many ages, a 
 long line of noble ancestors had successively delighted to enrich 
 and adorn. 
 
 " O never ! A hundred and seventy miles from Londcn, in a 
 midland county — not oven a market-town within half a score of 
 leagues — only a village at the gate, with a single ale-house, 
 where a cuckoo clock chicks at one side of the chimney-place, 
 and the curate, smoking his pipe in an antique elbow-chair, 
 ohurms at the other. Was it possible to vcgotatc with Lady 
 Sandyford ? I did, indeed, at our marriage, intend to make it 
 our principal residence ; but a blight fell upon all my intentions 
 of that period, and I never since could endure the idea of look- 
 ing at Chastington, till the adventure of this morning reminded 
 
 
Id Ann-Rad- 
 ich I was on 
 listance from 
 from it occa- 
 [ lady in hot 
 ;he time they 
 
 with the an- 
 
 I more truth 
 n how much 
 ires of Chas- 
 stery of foot- 
 ^ere initiated 
 hem charac- 
 on that any 
 it with them 
 The posses- 
 )t a roguery 
 ience, with a 
 ; play, urged 
 h enough, or 
 
 1 Mordannt, 
 nch levity of 
 nany ages, a 
 ted to enrich 
 
 London, in a 
 [ilf a score of 
 le ale-house, 
 imney-place, 
 elbow-chair, 
 e with Lady 
 1 to make it 
 ly intentions 
 dea of look- 
 ag reminded 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. — PERPLEXITIES. 
 
 103 
 
 
 me of what my mother used to say about the presiding genii 
 that inhabit there." 
 
 After some further general conversation relative to the earl's 
 plans, Mordaunt rose to bid him good-night. " Come to me to- 
 morrow as early as you can," said his lordship, as he shook him 
 by the hand at parting ; " and in the mean time put as charitable 
 a construction as possible on any thing that may have had a 
 tendency to lower me in your esteem. I am not, my dear fel- 
 low, half so bad as I have long seemed ; all that which others 
 regarded as the inebriation of pleasure, was to me the frenzy of 
 a fever. My outward and my inner man were in afflicting oppo- 
 sition. The voluptuous draught that I was seen to swallow so 
 greedily, was but drunk as an opiate to allay the mental agony 
 which I suffered. I felt as if the spring and fountain-head of 
 all my motives and happiness were cut off, and the future 
 rendered an arid and devouring desert. A worm was in the 
 core of my heart, and a fire in my brain ; and for three years 
 my spirit was parched with inextinguishable despair. My dis- 
 sipation was martyrdom ; and yet I wore the mask of a joyous 
 libertine so well, that my hidden misery was never discovered. 
 But the mask, Mordaunt, is now off — the crisis of my distemper 
 is past — and, as the faculty say, a change of scene, with country 
 air and exercise, will perhaps complete the cure." 
 
 During this address, which his lordship delivered with con- 
 siderable energy, while he still held his friend oy the hand, 
 Mordaunt was greatly moved ; and at the conclusion, when the 
 vehemence of the earl had subsided into a more familiar strain, 
 he said, " Sandyford, you ought to have told me what you were 
 Biiffering. It was too much to put to hazard fame, fortune, and 
 self-respect, without consulting any friend." 
 
 " It was," replied his lordship ; " I am sensible it was ; but if 
 I could have been so prudent as to have taken the advice of any 
 friend, I should not then have been so mad as to require it. 
 There are st.atea of the mind which friend?i should sec are morbid, 
 without being told. One of the worst symptoms of intellectual 
 distemperature, is the effort which the patient makes to conceal 
 his malady. Could it have been for a moment imagined by my 
 friends, had they thought seriously on the case, that I would at 
 
104 
 
 SIR ANDREW WYLIE, 
 
 :«i j 
 
 once forego all my early habits of emulation, the love of fame, 
 and the desire of power, and tie myself to the chariot-wheels of 
 hazard and sensuality without a cause ? No, Mordaunt ; when 
 you heard of my falling off, you ought to have come to me. It 
 was not for you to stand aloof, and see me perish ; for, without 
 vanity, I may now say, humiliated as I am by the sense of my 
 fruitless talents and abc-tive life, that you at least knew mv 
 original worth." 
 
 The feelings of Mordaunt were overcome, and hastily bidding 
 his lordship good-night, he rushed from the room to conceal the 
 emotion he was unable any longer to control. The heart of the 
 earl was relieved by what had passed; the fine natural elasticity 
 of his mind, which enabled him to pass with such felicitous ease 
 from one topic to another, dilated out in the cheerful anticipa- 
 tion of being yet able to redeem some portion of the promise of 
 his youth ; and he retired to his bed-chamber in a more serene 
 and temperate mood than he had for several years enjoyed. The 
 only anxiety he suffered was on account of his lady, and he 
 sighed as he said, looking at her picture, which hung over the 
 mantelpiece, " And so, Augusta, you are also gone. I thought 
 but last night I could have better spared you. No matter, if 
 you are happy. You have all the kindest wishes of a man that 
 loved you too well." 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 A MAN OP BUSINESS. 
 
 ft!,'- 
 
 At the time when the earl had requested Vellum to be with 
 hira in the morning, the solicitor, punctual to the hour, was at 
 bandyford House, with a hasty sketch of the state of his lord- 
 ship s pecuuiury concerns. He had heard something of what 
 had happened ; but the true circumstances were so different from 
 the report, that he could not help saying, « I presume there will 
 be no proceedings." 
 
CHAPTER XXIV. — A MAN OP BUSINESS. 
 
 105 
 
 "None in your way," replied the earl dryly, as he perused the 
 statement ; adding, " This looks better. Vellum, than I expected. 
 Have you any account of my debts and mortgages ?" 
 
 Vellum said, somewhat diffidently, that he had, and produced 
 a paper. The earl, on looking it over, was surprised to observe 
 that Vellum himself was by far the most considerable creditor. 
 He took no notice, however, of this circumstance ; for the money 
 which he had borrowed at different times he had paid an enor- 
 mous rate 'of usury; but he had never any reason before to 
 suspect that Vellum was the real lender, nor did he do so at this 
 time. He only thought, what was indeed the fact, that Vellum 
 had afterwards bought up the securities. 
 
 While the earl was perusing the list. Vellum watched his eye 
 anxiously, but could discover nothing of what was passing in 
 his mind. On returning it to him, his lordship, however, said, 
 somewhat emphatically, "Vellum, this is a black account: we 
 must use our best endeavours to bleach the complexion of some 
 of these ill-favoured items." 
 
 The solicitor felt the full force and weight of this remark, and 
 said at once, " I am aware, my lord, that some parts of it are not 
 exactly what your lordship perhaps expected to see— I allude to 
 my own claims ; but the truth of the case is simply this : Had 
 I not redeemed the bonds which constitute ray claim, some other 
 would ; and I do not think that any person into Avhose possession 
 they might have come, would have been more delicate than my- 
 self. I might certainly, as your lordship's professional agent, 
 have resisted the debt altogether; and, in that manner, the obliga- 
 tion to pay them might have been got rid of. But your lordship 
 would never suffer me to establish a legal right at the expense 
 of a moral wrong. I might also, my lord— for such things 
 are not uncommon— have exhibited the claim under different 
 names, by which my interest in the business would have been 
 dissimulated ; but I am incapable of submitting to practise any 
 such equivocation." 
 
 " I am perfectly satisfied, Vellum, with your integrity as a man 
 of business," replied his lordship ; " and the candour of your 
 declaration confirms me in the justice that I have uniformly, in 
 my own mind, done to you as such. My confidence in you is 
 
106 
 
 SIR ANDREW WYLIE. 
 
 none abated, and I do not consider the profit which you may 
 have gained by these dealings as procured at my expense ; but, 
 doubtless, the only reason which induced you not to tell me that 
 I might have occasionally redeemed the pound of flesh, arose 
 from your thorough knowledge of the state of my circumstances, 
 arising from your professional trusts as my agent." 
 
 Vellum bit his lips ; but the earl in a moment changed his 
 tone, and said cheerfully, " However, the matter is done, and it 
 must not be repeated ; I wish you all happiness with your gains ; 
 and the sooner they are realized, the more I shall be content. 
 But one thing you must, in the mean time, do for me. I have 
 paid more attention to that Scottish curiosity, Wylie, than per- 
 haps I ought to have done. He, however, served to amuse me 
 when every other thing had become stale, flat, and unprofitable ; 
 
 and he cannot but have formed some expectations from my in- 
 terest or influence. I believe he is honest," 
 
 " It is impossible to doubt it," replied Vellum ; " but his 
 
 talents are not of a high order, nor has his education been of 
 
 the best scrt." 
 
 " The being," cried his lordship, gaily, " has not half the 
 
 capacity, I believe, of a young elephant ; but his very deficiencies 
 
 have been as talents with me ; and now that I am determined to 
 
 quit London, I wish to do something for him. You must take 
 
 him into partnership. Vellum." 
 
 The solicitor was thunderstruck ; and in an accent of astonish- 
 
 ment, said, " My lord, it is not possible— he is too young— he 
 
 knows nothing of business." 
 
 " He is old enough," replied his lordship, coldly, « to receive 
 
 profit 5 nor does it require any particular knowledge to do so. 
 
 But perhaps you would rather give him a salary." 
 
 Vellum bowed, and the earl continued ; " Then it should be 
 
 on agreement for a term of years— Say seven. How much will 
 
 you give him ?" 
 
 The decision of character which the earl hsA in this inter- 
 view so unexpectedly manifested, overawed Vellum, who had 
 hitherto considered him merely as a common man of fashion. 
 He had never, in the course of their previous intercourse, once 
 suspected the dormant powers of his lordship's mind, which, like 
 
 B I?' >' 
 
CHAPTER XXIV. — A MAW OF BUSINESS. 
 
 107 
 
 ich you may 
 spense ; but, 
 ) tell me that 
 r flesh, arose 
 rcumstances, 
 
 changed his 
 done, and it 
 
 your gains ; 
 
 be content, 
 me. I have 
 e, than per- 
 :o amuse me 
 mprofitable ; 
 from my in- 
 
 ; " but his 
 :ion been of 
 
 lot half the 
 
 deficiencies 
 
 3termined to 
 
 u must take 
 
 ofastonish- 
 young — he 
 
 " to receive 
 fe to do so. 
 
 it should be 
 r much will 
 
 this inter- 
 1, who had 
 
 of fashion, 
 ourse, once 
 which, like 
 
 a stream long dammed up, and mantled over with water-weeds 
 and rushes, seemed incapable of being applied to any effectual 
 purpose. But he now perceived that it would be useless to parry 
 with such a character ; and therefore, with the oflF-hand alacrity 
 of a man of the world, he replied, " It is your lordship's pleasure 
 to promote the fortune of the young man, and it is my duty to 
 comply with your lordship's reasonable wishes on the subject. 
 I will give him five hundred pounds a-year for seven years ; 
 although I do not think he will ever make any available profi- 
 ciency in his profession." 
 
 " You do not then seriously think that he is likely to attain 
 eminence as a lawyer ?" said the earl, earnestly. 
 
 " I do not," was the emphatic answer. 
 
 " Then," replied his lordship, " five hundred a-year, for seven 
 years, is too little. You will give him seven hundred and 
 
 fifty." 
 
 " It is far beyond his wants, habits, and ideas." 
 
 Vellum, in saying these few words, was rebuked by the grave 
 expression of his lordship's eye ; and stopping as if he had been 
 interrupted, looked confused. 
 
 The earl, after a pause of some ten or twenty seconds, rose 
 from his seat, and standing with his back to the fire, said to the 
 solicitor, who had also risen at the same time, " I am not sure, 
 Mr Vellum, that any man has a right to prescribe limits to 
 another's fortune. You will give Mr Wylie seven hundred and 
 fifty pounds a-year for seven years, if you think my business 
 and connexions can, with a reasonable advantage to yourself, 
 afford so much." 
 
 There was no withstanding either the manner or the matter 
 of this. Vellum bowed with profound respect, and said, " It 
 shall be done, my lord ; and I ought to add, that it is in my 
 i iwer to comply with your lordship's request." 
 
 " I thank you. Vellum ; you have obliged me ;" and the earl 
 took him cordially by the hand. " We shall talk no more of 
 these matters. My only instructions now to you are, let a full 
 account be made out, and sent to me as soon as possible ; exhi- 
 biting an exact view of my affairs ; with a table, showing in 
 what tims my debts may be discharged. I will take it with me 
 
108 
 
 SIK ANDREW WTLIE, 
 
 into the country, where I shall be able to determine the amount 
 to which I must limit my expenditure." 
 
 This was evidently intended to conclude the interview ; and 
 the solicitor, sensible of the intimation, accordingly took his 
 leave. In quitting the room, the earl, however, said to him, 
 with his wonted freedom, "You can dine with me, I hope?" 
 
 Vellum accepted the invitation, but with a little more for- 
 mality than usual. The earl smiled at the change, and added, 
 in his most gracious and conciliating manner, " By the way. 
 Vellum, this house must remain empty while I am in the 
 country, for I do not intend that it shall be let ; you had as well 
 come here and live ; you will take better care of the pictures 
 and furniture than servants ; and I hope you and Mrs Vellum 
 will oblige me in this. You need not materially increase your 
 establishment, as I shall leave some of the old servants." 
 
 Vellum looked on his lordship. On any former occasion, had 
 such a proposition been made to him, he would have laughingly 
 shaken his head in thankful acceptation ; but the sinfrular lustre 
 with which the latent character of the earl shone out upon him, 
 smote him with a sense of reverence that overpowered all his 
 wonted familiarity, and he said, with the most profound respect, 
 " I crave your lordship's pardon for having evinced any reluc- 
 tance to comply with your requo^t. I ought to have known 
 better the obligations that I ojv-e l> your lordship, and the mag- 
 nanimity of your disposition." He then said, somewhat less 
 formally, but perhaps vvith more effect, " I am not, however, the 
 only one, my lord, t ho has been long in error with respect to 
 your lordship." 
 
 " Come, come, \ellum, no more of that," cried the earl, inter- 
 rupting him ; " I have myself, perhaps, been the most in error 
 of you all. But as I have turned over a new leaf in the book of 
 life, it is as well that the first record to be made thereon is what 
 I shall not regret. Bring Wylie with you, that I may seo with 
 what humour the Caliban sustains his new fortune." 
 
 The solicitor bowed and retired. 
 
 
CHAPTKB XXV. — GRATITUDE. 
 
 109 
 
 i the amount 
 
 erview; and 
 ?ly took his 
 said to him, 
 I hope?" 
 le more for- 
 , and added, 
 By the way, 
 
 am in the 
 I had as well 
 the pictures 
 Mrs Vellum 
 icrease your 
 nts." 
 
 ccasion, had 
 ! laughingly 
 gular lustre 
 t upon him, 
 ered all his 
 iind respect, 
 
 any reluc- 
 lave known 
 id the mag- 
 newhat less 
 owever, the 
 I respect to 
 
 earl, inter- 
 est in error 
 the book of 
 eon is what 
 ay SCO with 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 GBATITUDE. 
 
 From the transactions of the preceding day, Wylie had been 
 thoughtful and anxious. He studiously avoided the conversation 
 of his companions in the office, and applied himself with more 
 than wonted diligence to his tasks at the desk. He had formed 
 expectations with respect to the favour of Lord Sandyford, which 
 he thought were likely to be frustrated by the unfortunate 
 situation of the earl's domestic affairs, and ever and anon a cold 
 feeling came over his heart, such as often saddens the spirit of 
 the young adventurer when his prospects are suddenly clcided. 
 Vellum, on his returning from his lordsiiip, summoned him into 
 liis own apartment, and somewhat abruptly told liim of his good 
 fortune. 
 
 " It's vera kind of my lord," said Andre. r ; really it's vera 
 kind. He's a nice man, and mair in him than he's likened to ; 
 I couldna hae thought he would hae done so meikle for me 
 already." 
 
 " Then you have expected," cried Vellum, " that he would do 
 something for you ? "' 
 
 " I surely had reason," was the reply. " It couldna be thought 
 but that in time I might hae I'entured to ask my lord's helping 
 hand, considering his discretion towards me. ' 
 
 " The idea did credit to your sagacity, Wylie," said Vellum 
 ironically ; " and I suppose you exerted yourself to the best of 
 your ability to amuse his loi dship ? " 
 
 " Nae doubt I did — nae doubt I did that," cried our hero ; 
 " it would hae been an unco thing in the like o' me no *o hae 
 done a' in my capacity to pleasure my lord." 
 
 " Upon my word, there is more in you than I gave you credit 
 for," replied the solicitor sneeringly, feeling as if he had been in 
 some degree overreached by the part which Andrew had played ; 
 adding more sedately, "But now that you have gained your 
 ends, and by his lordship's generosity are placed in a condition 
 to support the appearance of a gentleman, I hope you will set in 
 
110 
 
 SIB ANDREW WYI.IE. 
 
 r^iv'i • 
 
 i.-i. a 
 
 I i 
 
 seriously to your piwMon, and throw oflF your ridiculous man- 
 ners for tlie future." 
 
 " That would be a doing, indeed ! " exclaimed our hero ; *' when 
 you are just at this precious moment telling me that they 
 have already brought me in seven hundcr and fifty pounds a- 
 year." 
 
 This answer puzzled the lawyer, who laughed as he said, 
 " Well, well, take your own way ; but it is no longer necessary 
 for you to be so penurious." 
 
 " That's very true," replied Andrew, " and I'm thankful it is 
 sae ; but if I dinna save now, where will I, in the lang run, be 
 a whit the better for my lord's bountiful patronage ? No, sir ; 
 ye maun just let me ride my ain horse wi' my ain ha'ding." 
 
 Mr Vellum suddenly broke off the conversation, and turned 
 his attention to some matter of business, and our hero, on go- 
 ing to his place at the desk, in the fulness of his heart wrote a 
 letter to his grandmother ; but without indulging in any expres- 
 sion Deyond the wonteii temperance of his ordinary manner of 
 addressing the affectionate old woman, he began by stating, that 
 for some time he had been keepit thrang both by night and by 
 day. " But I have no reason to complain, for Providence has 
 been pleased to raise up for me a friend, by whose instrumen- 
 tality Mr Vellum has settled on me a very satisfactory wage, 
 the which will enable me to show more kindness tb you than I 
 have yet had it in my power to do ; and I think it my loving 
 duty to ser J you herein, out of the fore-end of my earnings, 
 something to buy a new gown, or any other small convenience 
 that ye may stand in the need of; hoping you will want for 
 nothing, as I doubt not to have it in my p ..> " '.mw *o do as 
 mickle, and more, frou ume to time." And tht-t -»• tuitinued, 
 " I have seen of late but little of Charlie '"•: .sIt, bi. he's in 
 very good health to the best of my knowledge, but a mischiev- 
 ous cle^'er ramplor, and never devalds with cracking his jokes on 
 me. However, I have fallen in, notwithstanding the unfashion 
 of ray apparel, with some creditable acquaintance ; but as you 
 ';en nothing anent them, I needna fash you with their names, 
 «or iuw it was." And he concluded by assuring the old woman, 
 tlMC it would '-t! lu's honest endeavour to give satisfaction to his 
 
ulous man- 
 
 ero;"wlien 
 
 I that they 
 T pounds a- 
 
 as he said, 
 r necessary 
 
 ankful it is 
 mg run, be 
 ? No, sir; 
 I'ding." 
 and turned 
 ero, on go- 
 irt wrote a 
 any expres- 
 
 manner of 
 tating, that 
 'ht and by 
 ifidenee has 
 instrumen- 
 itory wage, 
 you than I 
 
 my loving 
 y earnings, 
 onvcnience 
 
 II want for 
 w to do as 
 continued, 
 b'.' he's in 
 I mischiev- 
 is jokes on 
 ! unfashion 
 but as you 
 eir names, 
 lid woman, 
 tion to his 
 
 CHAPTEE XXV. — GRATITUDE. 
 
 Ill 
 
 
 friends, whoever they were, and to none more than to her, 
 to whose care he was beholden for every thing but his 
 being. 
 
 Tliis letter afforded great delight to the old woman ; she car- 
 rird it rouoa to all her neighbours, and even to the manse, 
 ivhtit the minister declared his entire satisfaction with the af- 
 fejd nate disposition and the generous heart of poor Andrew. 
 
 " But," said he, " London is a very expensive place, so you 
 must not count too confidently on his being able to fulfil his 
 kind intentions : we might, however, have been better qualified 
 to judge of that, had he told you the amount of his salary ; how- 
 ever, upon the whole, you have great reason to be thankful. I 
 believe he was always a well-disposed creature." 
 
 "That he was," replied Martha in the pride of her heart; 
 " he's a wee gair, I alloo ; but the liberal man's the beggar's 
 brotlier, and there's aye something to get by key or claut frae 
 the miser's coffer. I dinna stand in the lack o' his gift ; but 
 since it has come, I will buy a new gown for the kirk, that the 
 whole parish may see Andrew's gudeness o' heart therein. Poor 
 fallow!— nae doubt he has had baith to thole and moil for what 
 he has gotten, and it's a warld's wonder to me how he could gie 
 sic a satisfaction. But naebody can tell what's in the shawp 
 till it's shelt ; Paul was lai.g a persecutor before he was an 
 apostle, and the bonny butterflies begin the warld in the shape 
 o' crawling kailworms." 
 
 Thus was the character of our hero for affection and genero- 
 sity established, amidst the scenes of his youth ; and when from 
 iime to time a five- pound note, in faithful adherence to his pro- 
 mise, came ' egularly to hand, the worthy Tannyhill as regu- 
 larly lauded the liberality of the donor, and predicted his future 
 greatness ; while the delighted old woman, exulting in the con- 
 stancy of his kindness, as often declared, " That she never wished 
 to see him great, but only gude ; for, as Solomon says, ' grant 
 me neither poverty nor riches ;' and Solomon kent weel what 
 the warld is— though, poor man, in his auld days he gaed aften 
 far ajee out o' the straight road in the gloaming, tapping wi' his 
 gowden-headed staff at the harlot's door, and keeking in at her 
 windows with his bald head and his gre; haffits, when he should 
 
 
 % 
 'fl' 
 
112 
 
 SIR ANDREW WYLIE. 
 
 hae been sitting at hame on his throne, reading his Bible to his 
 captains and counsellors in a kingly manner." 
 
 '1 <' 
 
 ij'^ "if 
 
 Bi«!' 
 
 SI J 
 
 1 "*i 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 AN ALE-HOUSE. 
 
 Agreeably to the orders of the countess, her father's travel- 
 ling carriage was at the door early in the morning. The day 
 promised to be fine. The winter had been mild; and although 
 it was still February, the spring was seen big in the bud, and 
 the fields seemed to be tinged with new verdure. A few lambs 
 were scattered here and there among the flocks on the pastures ; 
 and the air breathed an invigorating energy into the spirit, of 
 which Lady Sandyford stood then much in need. Every thing 
 presented the appearance of youth and renovation; and the rising 
 hopes of a richer harvest of pleasures in life, were in accordance 
 with the appearance of nature, and the genial blandishments of 
 the early year. 
 
 During the first three stages of her journey towards Elder- 
 bower, slie met with nothing to draw her attention from the con- 
 templation of her own situation. Indignant at the world, and 
 mortified with herself, her thoughts alternately glowed with 
 anger and were darkened with sadness; but a general tendency 
 to a more elevated course of reflection gradually acquired force, 
 and her spirit rose as it were out of its passions and prejudices, 
 like the moon ascending from behind the lurid glare, the smoke, 
 and the dark masses of a great city. 
 
 When the carriage stopped to change horses at the Rose and 
 Crown, in the village of Castle-Rooksborough, her ladyship 
 was roused from her reverie by the murmurinir of a crowd round 
 the door of a small public-house, on the opposite side of the 
 way. There was something in the appearance of the people, 
 which showed that their feelings and sympathies were excited by 
 some distressing occurrence, and she en(iuired what had hap- 
 
 pened. S( 
 answered t 
 been taken 
 had expiree 
 It was n 
 she had ret 
 such a pow 
 she immedi 
 ment for t 
 were touch 
 made way 1 
 of reverenc 
 with an ini 
 spring; bu 
 prepared hi 
 house. 
 
 She was 
 opened intc 
 with a larg( 
 of roots an( 
 corner hun| 
 stood a ber 
 back, whicl 
 ioned sofa. 
 oaken table 
 voured cusf 
 were seated 
 with tankar 
 rose as her 
 of women ai 
 ear was pie 
 feeble wail ( 
 
 She adva; 
 lay the bod; 
 seribablc gl 
 minutes afte 
 reflection of 
 the dwelling 
 
 3. 
 

 CHAPTER XXri. — AN ALE-HOUSE. 
 
 113 
 
 pened. Several voices, all anxious to engage her humanity, 
 answered together, that a poor unknown outlandish woman had 
 been taken in labour in the London coach, and, being left there, 
 had expired in giving birth to a beautiful female infant. 
 
 It was not the intention of the countess to have halted till 
 she had reached the end of her journey; but this incident had 
 such a powerful eflFect on her newly-awakened sensibilities, that 
 she immediately determined to alight, and make some arrange- 
 ment for the preservation of the helpless child. The crowd 
 were touched with admiration at her generous compassion, and 
 made way for her to the door of the public-house, with a degree 
 of reverence, mingled with delight, that came over her heart 
 with an influence more delicious than the early odours of the 
 spring; but no previous view of the privations of the poor had 
 prepared her for the scene that she beheld on entering the 
 house. 
 
 She was first shown into the kitchen, or rather the door 
 opened into that apartment. It was a rude low-ceiled room, 
 with a large chimney at the one side, in which a hospitable pile 
 of roots and billets of wood were cheerily burning. In the one 
 corner hung several hams and flitches of bacon ; in the other 
 stood a bench, somewhat dislocated in its limbs, with a high 
 back, which bore a sort of outline resemblance to an old-fash- 
 ioned sofa. Opposite to the fire was an inclosed recess, with an 
 oaken table in the middle, carved with the initials of some fa- 
 voured customers, and round it about six or seven labourers 
 were seated, some with bread and cheese before them, others 
 with tankards of ale ; two or three of them were smoking. They 
 rose as her ladyship passed across to a room, where a number 
 of women and children were assembled ; on entering which, her 
 ear was pierced, and her heart penetrated, by the shrill and 
 feeble wail of the new-born orphan. 
 
 She advanced towards the side of an humble bed, on which 
 lay the body of the mother, still retaining that last and inde- 
 scribable gleam of earthly beauty, which remains for a few 
 minutes after the spirit has departed, and seems as if it were the 
 reflection of the ethereal guest hovering in contemplation over 
 the dwelling it has for ever quitted. An elderly woman was 
 
 
 li 
 
 I 
 
>« 
 
 114 
 
 SIR ANDREW WTLIE. 
 
 respectfully composing the limbs, while anothei* was dressing 
 the child as it lay on her lap. 
 
 Lady Sandyford was exceedingly moved by a spectacle as new 
 as it Avas mournful, and, obeying the shock and impulse of the 
 moment, she hastily turned back, and ran across the street to 
 the Rose and Crown. 
 
 " For heaven's sake !" she exclaimed to the landlady, who 
 followed her into one of the parlours, " what is to be done with 
 that unprotected infant ?" 
 
 " Don't afflict yourself, my lady," replied Mrs Vintage ; " the 
 ]iarish-officers will see to it. They have already sent for Mrs 
 Peony, the wife of Mr Ferrers' gardener. Iler own child died 
 yesterday, and she will be right glad to get this one in its place. 
 I would therefore, my lady, recommend your ladyship to take 
 some refreshment, and compose your spirits. What will your 
 ladyship be pleased to take ?" 
 
 Flounce, her ladyship's gentlewoman and companion in the 
 carriage, who had been during the whole time an amazed spectator 
 of the countess's agitation, interfered, saying, " Perhaps my 
 lady will be better by being left for a little alone ;" and the 
 countess intimating, by a motion of her hand, an acquiescence 
 in this suggestion, Mrs Vintage withdrew. 
 
 " Flounce," said her ladyship, the moment they were by them- 
 selves, " I have a great mind to take this baby with us." 
 
 " C) monstrous, your ladyship ! " exclaimed the tender-hearted 
 Abigail. " Why, the creature hasn't a stitch of clothes ; and 
 how could we nurse it in the carriage on my best pelisse ? No, 
 my lady ; let the parish-officers first get it nursed, and then if it 
 chance to be a beauty, your ladyship may show your compas- 
 sion ; but, Lord, if it prove an ugly brawling toad, what could 
 be done with it?" 
 
 " There is some reason in what you say. Flounce," replied 
 the countess ; " particularly as to the risk your best pelisse 
 might be exposed to. But, nevertheless, I will fulnpt the child ; 
 therefore, do yoii call in the landlady again, that I may speak 
 to her on the subject." 
 
 Mrs Vintage, on returning into the room, was accordingly 
 informed that the parish-officers need give themselves no further 
 
IS dressing 
 
 acle as new 
 ulse of the 
 le street to 
 
 Jlady, who 
 ! done with 
 
 tage ; " the 
 mt for Mrs 
 child died 
 n its place, 
 lip to take 
 t will your 
 
 lion in the 
 'd spectator 
 'erhaps my 
 ;" and the 
 jquiescence 
 
 'e by them- 
 
 IIS." 
 
 Jer-hearted 
 othes ; and 
 lisse ? No, 
 d then if it 
 ur compas- 
 what could 
 
 ;e," replied 
 
 )est pelisse 
 
 f; the child ; 
 
 may speak 
 
 iccordingly 
 i no further 
 
 CHAPTER XXVT. — AN ALE-HOUSE. 
 
 115 
 
 trouble about the orphan, for it was her ladyship's intention to 
 take it under her protection. 
 
 " But," said the countess, " I do not wish for the present to 
 be known in the business. I must therefore beg of you to make 
 the necessary arrangements with the nurse of -vhom you spoke, 
 and in the course of a few days you will hear from me more 
 particularly on the subject. In the mean time, I will leave 
 with you what money may be necessary (o defray the expenses 
 of the mother's funeral. In order, however, that some key, if 
 possible, may be got to her relations, I think it will be proper 
 to take possession of any luggage she may have had with 
 her." 
 
 Mrs Vintage told her ladyship that she understood there was 
 nothing but a box, which the officers had already opened, and 
 found it contained only a few trinkets and clothes. " I have 
 taken charge of it, and, if your ladyship pleases, I will give it up 
 to you." 
 
 "Yes," said Flounce, "I think if my lady is to be at the 
 expense of the brat's education, she should have what effects 
 belong to it ; so pray, do let us have the box with us. I dare 
 say, my lady, some of the trinkets must be valuable; fordid 
 your ladyship not observe what delightful large ear-rings the 
 poor dead creature had ? Surely they will never be so barbar- 
 ous as to bury her with them. If they do, I should not be 
 surprised were the sexton to dig her up in the night, and pull 
 tlicm out." 
 
 " Flounce," cried her mistress with displeasure, " you allow 
 yourself to talk too flippantly. Desire the footman to see the 
 box carefully put up with the rest of our luggage." 
 
 Her ladyship then gave Mrs Vintage some instructions respect- 
 ing a slight repast; and while the prcj^arations for which were 
 going on, the recpiisite arrangements 'Ycre made with Mrs Peony 
 to take charge of the child, which the countess directed to be 
 v.iunod Moniniia. 
 
 During the conversation, it transpired that the Mr Ferrers, in 
 whose service the husband of the nurse was gardener, was the 
 same gentleman whose attentions to the countess had already 
 produced such baneful consequences. He was lord of the manor 
 
 VM 
 
116 
 
 SIH ANDHEW WTLIE. 
 
 in which the village was situated, and possessed a fine ancient 
 seat in the immediate neighbourhood. 
 
 There was nothing in this information which disturbed Lady 
 Sandyford; for she was not aware that it was owing to the 
 ridiculous assiduity of Ferrers that her unhappy situation with 
 her husband had been brought to such a painful issue. Never- 
 theless, the remainder of her journey to Elderbower, the seat of 
 the countess-dowager, was performed in silence ; even Flounce 
 said nothing, nor made any attempt to engage the attention of 
 her lady, but, ruminating on the events of the day, fell fast asleep. 
 
 im 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 A DOWAGER. 
 
 Eldebdower had for generations been the appropriated retreat 
 of the dowagers of Sandyford. It was a venerable whitewashed 
 mansion, presenting a front of three gables, topped with stately 
 ornamented chimneys, toward a smooth, well-shaven green, 
 enclosed on the right and left by high walls, clothed with laurels 
 and other shrubs of constant leaf and verdure. This lawn, or par- 
 terre as it was called, opened to the public road by a pair of iron 
 gates of florid tracery, beiween two tall embossed and sculp- 
 tured columns, on the tops of which stood a couple of grotesque 
 statues, intended to represent Saxon warriors, the supporters of 
 the Sandyford arms. These, in a boyish freak, while residing 
 here under the maternal wing, the earl one day painted in the 
 colours of the family livcrj, to place them on a footing, as he 
 said, with their equally wise fellows in the hall ; and his mother, 
 from an indescribable sentiment of affection, yearly renewed 
 tlieir liveries ; contrasting with sorrow the light and jocund 
 gayety of the time when the frolic was first played, with the 
 headlong dissipation that had succeeded. 
 
 This widow's nest, as the earl was in the practice of designa- 
 ting Elderbower, stood on the skirts of Elderton, a cheerful 
 
ine ancient 
 
 iirbed Lady 
 i^ing to the 
 uation with 
 le. Never- 
 
 the scat of 
 en Flounce 
 ittention of 
 
 fast asleep. 
 
 ited retreat 
 hitewashed 
 rith stately 
 ven green, 
 I'ith laurels 
 svn, or par- 
 lair of iron 
 and sculp- 
 r grotesque 
 pporters of 
 le residing 
 itcd in the 
 ing, as he 
 lis mother, 
 y renewed 
 nd jocunu 
 , with the 
 
 •f design a- 
 a cheerful 
 
 CRAFTEE XXVir. — A DOWAGEB. 
 
 117 
 
 
 market town, near the rectory, and not far from the church • so 
 situated, as his lordship said, in order that the dowagers might 
 have the benefit of clergy in their felonies on the adjacent cha- 
 racters. But the insinuation did not apply to his mother, who 
 was in many respects an amiable woman, though weakly over- 
 valuing her rank. 
 
 When the bell at the gate announced the arrival of her daughter- 
 in-law, she was sitting alone at a parlour window, which over- 
 looked a flower-garden that sloped gently down towards a beauti- 
 ful smooth grass plot round a basin, in the middle of which stood 
 a naked leaden :iiale image, intended for a heathen god, but 
 whether Apollo or Vulcan, was never thoroughly or satisfactorily 
 determined. His reverence the rector, who had once acquired 
 some knowledge of such things at Oxford, was of opinion that the 
 statue was an original cast of the Farnesian Hercules ; but the 
 traditions among the domestics and of the environs, described 
 it as the effigy of Sir Gondibert le Saint et Forte; who, on 
 account of his great valour, obtained the redoubtable surname 
 of Hardknocks— a most valorous and courteous knight that was 
 taken by the Pagans and flayed alive at Jerusalem, in the time of 
 tlie Crusades. 
 
 But however questionable the character might be which the 
 image exhibited, or whatever controversies existed with respect to 
 its origin, it certainly poured from a conch a copious stream of 
 crystalline water, which fell in a gentle and ever-rippling shower 
 on the surface of the basin, and spread into the quiet air around 
 a sober murmur, that softly barn^onized with the tranquillity of 
 the scenery, and the golden composure of the setting sun, which 
 the old lady was then contemplating, with her elbow resting on a 
 large prayer-book, in which her spectacles marked that she had 
 been recently reading the collects prescribed for the evening. 
 Shock, her lapdog, lay slumbering on the rug, with his head 
 conifortabiy pillowed on the breast of Pur, a large, demure, and 
 decorous tortoiseshoU cat, that was also enjoying at full length 
 the drowsy influences of the bright blnc-tinged lire, which, like 
 the splendour of the western skies, gave an assurance of con- 
 tniued clear and dry weather. Shock was disturbed in his siesta 
 by the sound of the bell, and starting up, ran barking towards 
 
118 
 
 SIR ANDIIEW WYLEE. 
 
 > J 
 
 the door ; while his ludy, takinji; her spectacles out of the prayer- 
 book, placed it on a table behind her, on which, amidst several 
 volumes of a devotional character, lay a copy of the newspaper 
 containing the paragraph that completed the rupture between her 
 son and his wife. It may therefore be easily imagined with what 
 emotion she b«jheld the countess, unannounced, enter the room ,- 
 and, almost in the same moment, felt her in tears on her 
 bosom. 
 
 " Alas !" said the venerable matron, " what is this ? and 
 why have you come to me ? But I pity you more than I can 
 express ; for 1 fear that the conduct of George afforded too just 
 a palliation." 
 
 "Then you have already heard what has happened?" cried 
 the countess, in some degree recovering herself. "Whatever 
 may have been my indiscretions, I am at least, my dear mother, 
 free from the imputed guilt. Lord Sandyford and I have long 
 lived a comfortless life. He has treated me as if I were unwor- 
 thy of his affection, and perhaps I have acted as if I felt none 
 for him. This public scandal has opened my eyes to my faults; 
 and I have come to you to learn how I may recover the esteem 
 of my husband. My father urges me to a formal separation. 
 lie did indeed persuade me to remove with him from Sandy- 
 ford House. It was a rash step, but it is taken. Instruct me 
 how it may be redeemed." 
 
 The dowager dropped a tear on the hand which Lady Sandy- 
 ford had, in her earnestness, laid upon her knee, and said, "I 
 thank you, Augusta, for this confidence; but I feel a mother's 
 sorrow for George. His ruin is, I fear, now complete. But en- 
 deavour to compose yourself, and we shall consider, at leisure, 
 what is the best course to pursue. You have done wisely to 
 come to me. The knowledge that you have taken refuge here, 
 will do much to remove that unfavourable construction towards 
 you which the world, taught by the fatal newspaper tale, will 
 doubtless put on the separation " 
 
 The maternal anxieties of the Did lady as to the manner in 
 which the earl had acted in the business, received some allevia- 
 tion from the countess's report of Sir Charles Runnington's 
 mission, and she said. "Thank heaven, his heart is not entirely 
 
CHAPTEE XXVII. — A DOWAGER. 
 
 119 
 
 corrupted, nor bis princfples destroyed ! I hope he has still good 
 feeling enough, were it once efi'ectually excited, to work out a 
 gracious change in his conduct. If he could once be convinced 
 that you are solicitous to regain his affections, his ruin may be 
 arrested; for, whatever his behaviour may have since been, he 
 once, Augusta, undoubtedly loved you truly." 
 
 The benign composure of the dowager had an immediate and 
 tranquillizing effect on the mind of the countess, who, in the 
 course of less than an hour after her arrival, was able to discuss 
 with her the plan that she had formed in the hope of regaining 
 the esteem of her lord. The dowager would have written the 
 same night to request the presence of the earl, thf.t their recon- 
 ciliation might be immediate, but the countess would not permit. 
 " No," said she, " I do not wish that we should come again 
 together, unless there can be a reciprocity in our tastes and 
 sentiments. I feel my own insufficiency at present to contribute 
 to his happiness." 
 
 The old lady affectionately interrupted her, saying, "You 
 have too humble an opinion of yourself." 
 
 " Ah ! " exclaimed her ladyship, " humility is to me a new- 
 feeling. I cannot disguise to myself that, with all my former 
 vain pretensions to superiority, I have failed to preserve the 
 love of a man that once doated upon me. Perhaps I have even 
 been instrumental to that woeful lapse which has so long 
 embittered your declining years." 
 
 The tone of contrition in which this was expressed, surprised 
 and grieved the venerable dowager. She beheld the character 
 of Lady Sandyford in a point of view of which she had formed 
 no previous conception; and there was a modesty in this, which, 
 while it moved her compassion, solicited encouragement. She 
 saw that the countess felt more deeply the stigma to which she 
 had been exposed, than could have been expected from a woman 
 hitherto considered as equally under the dominion of pride and 
 vanity. 
 
 By this time it was almost quite dark ; and such had been the 
 earnestness of the conversation between the two ladies, that tlie 
 one forgot the fatigue of her journey, and the other, to ask if she 
 required any refreshment. Far different was the case with 
 
m 
 
 in' 
 
 ;'> |ri 
 
 ifi 
 
 120 
 
 SIR ANDREW WYLIE. 
 
 Flounce : she was prattling away with delight over a dish of 
 green tea, along with the methodical Mrs Polisher, who held 
 the responsible dignity of housekeeper at Elderbower; repaying 
 the civility of her entertainer with a full, true, and particular 
 account of the infidelities of the earl. "I declare, my dear 
 ma'am," said Flounce, "he is the most shockingest man you 
 ever heard of; and more times than I shall tell, he has shown 
 his cloven foot to me. But, my lord, says I, I would have your 
 lordship to know, that if my lady submits to your raking, I 
 wont. Really, Mrs Polisher, you make excellent tea; but I 
 suppose the water is very good in this here countrified place — 
 and then his lordship would laugh and make game of me— pray, 
 do give me a morsel of sugar — dear me, what charming cream— 
 a little more— I protest it's beautiful— I never iasted such deli- 
 cious cream— and this is such a pretty house— I guess, however, 
 you must be dullish, keeping no company; and I should think 
 my lady will not stay long. I fancy when the divorce is finished, 
 we shall have one of the earl's other seats to live in." 
 
 "Divorce!" cried Mrs Polisher in amazement; for she had 
 not yet heard, notwithstanding all Flounce's talk, any thing of 
 the separation— "Divorce! what do you mean?" 
 
 "Why, haven't you heard that my lady has been caught in a 
 denoomang?" 
 
 Mrs Polisher, an old respectable matron, started back from 
 the tea-table, exclaiming, "Not possible!" 
 
 "As to the possibility of the thing, that's neither here nor 
 there," said Flounce, sipping her third cup; "but the story's all 
 blown abroad, and our men read it in the newspapers; but being 
 a delicate affair, you know I could not speak of it to my lady 
 herself; but it's in the newspapers; so there can be no doubt of 
 the fact. Indeed, my Lord Avonside came and took her away 
 out of the house, and I was ordered to follow in the evening. 
 Then there was such a piece of work— really, Mrs Polisher, this 
 is prodigious fine hyssnn — a small knob of sugar, if you please. 
 But, you know, it docs not do for us servants to make or meddle 
 in these sort of matters— so I said nothing, because my place is 
 a very good one. I wonder, however, what your dowager thinks 
 of the business." 
 
 
CHAPTER XXVIII. — AN ATTEMPT. 
 
 121 
 
 "Thinks!" cried Mrs Polisher, indignantly — "it will break 
 her heart; and I am astonished that your Lady Sandyford 
 should dare to show her face in this house; but these sort of 
 creatures are as impudent as they are wicked." 
 
 At this moment the dowager rang the bell that summoned 
 Mrs Polisher, and Flounce was left, for a short time, to her own 
 meditations, or rather to her observations; for the moment that 
 the housekeeper's back was turned, she immediately began to 
 inspect every thing in the room, with the avidity of an intended 
 purchaser. But before she had completed her survey, an old 
 corpulent footman, who was lame with the gout, came in to 
 enquire for his young lord, as he called the earl. 
 
 "Don't talk of his lordship to me," cried Flounce, "he's a 
 naughty man, and 'tis all his fault." 
 
 " I wont believe a word on't, said the man, who had heard 
 something of the separation from the servants of Lord Avonside 
 that came with the countess; adding, "before he fell in with 
 your damned lady " 
 
 "My damned — O, monstrous! — But the fellow's a bumpkin," 
 said Flounce, with a most ineflFable toss of her head; and she 
 then added, " Sirrah, if you know what it is to have good man- 
 ners, you will bring in a light, and take none of these liberties 
 with me." Thus asserting and upholding her metropolitan 
 superiority. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIIL 
 
 AN ATTEMPT, 
 
 MoBDAUNT, soon after Vellum's eventful interview with the 
 Earl, called at Sandyford House, to represent, in the strongest 
 terms, to his lordship the misery that he was evidently bringing 
 upon himself; but he found him inexorable. 
 
 " Had Lady Sandyford not quitted the house," said his lord- 
 ship, " thereby leaving me under an impression of her guilt, or 
 
122 
 
 SIR ANDREW 'WrLIE. 
 
 what I regard almost equally bad, in total carelessness whether 
 1 considered her guilty or innocent, I might perhaps have been 
 induced to reconsider her situation, but I cannot now. Her 
 conduct confirms me in the justice of the opinion I have been 
 unfortunately taught to form by her behaviour, ever s'-nce our 
 ill-fated marriage. Slie is incapable of caring for any one, and 
 the only pain she will feel for what has happened, is the damage 
 that has perhaps been done to her own reputation." 
 
 Owing to a long debate in the House of Commons the pr.,ceding 
 evening, the newspapers were late in being issued that njorning, 
 and the earl, engaged with Vellum, had neglected f.o look at 
 them. ^ At this crisis of the conversation, however, his lordship, 
 in folding up a note, happened to throw his eye on the paragraph 
 ingeniously inserted by Nettle, to turn the attention o"f the 
 scandal-mongers. It stated the extreme regret of the editors 
 and proprietors, that, by one of those inadvertencies inseparable 
 from the haste with which a daily newspaper was necessarily 
 
 compiled, a paragraph relative to the e!( p-ment of Mrs C 
 
 with the gallant Colonel D had been so placed in connexion 
 
 with an account of the Countess of Sandyford's assembly, as to 
 induce some of their readers to think it applied to that ai^able 
 and noble lady—" a mistake which they could not sufficiently 
 lament, even although assured that it had only occasioned a great 
 deal of merriment to the earl and countess, who were every thing 
 enviable and exemplary in married life." 
 
 His lordship burst into a fit of laughter, exclaiming, " There 
 are really no such fictions as those of your contemporary his- 
 tories ; " and he handed the paper to Mordaunt. 
 
 "What can be the meaning of this ?" cried the honest country 
 gentleman ; " Is it satire ? " 
 
 "O dear, no!" replied th -arl; "the editors and proprietors 
 suspect they have got into some scrape, and are taking this 
 method to appease the offended enviable exemplars, meaning 
 Lady Sandyford and myself, of whom, it would appear, they 
 know about as much as they do of the political intrigues and 
 transactions which they illuminate and chronicle with so much 
 seeming sagacity." 
 
CHAPTER XXVIII. AN ATTEMPT. 
 
 123 
 
 sness whether 
 ps have been 
 it now. Her 
 a I have been 
 ver s'nce our 
 any one, and 
 s the damage 
 
 the prijceding 
 hat morning, 
 d *o look at 
 his lordship, 
 lie paragraph 
 ntion of the 
 f the editors 
 3 inseparable 
 5 necessarilv 
 
 Mrs C 1 
 
 in connexion 
 embly, as to 
 that amiable 
 ; sufficiently 
 oned a great 
 ' every thing 
 
 ng, " There 
 iporary his- 
 
 lest country 
 
 proprietors 
 taking this 
 s, meaning 
 ppear, they 
 -I'lgucs and 
 th so much 
 
 I 
 
 "Monstrous!" cried Mordaunt; "I had no such conception of 
 the licentiousness of the press." 
 
 ' ' The only thing I am surprised at," said the earl, " is, that 
 the amend should have been made so expeditiously." 
 
 "But who is this Mrs C and Colonel D ?" cried 
 
 Mordaunt. 
 
 "Who!" exclaimed the earl ; "I declare you cooing lambkins 
 and capering doves of the azure fields are such innocents, that 
 there is no speaking to you about any townish mutter, without 
 entering into details obnoxious to all inventive genius. Who, 
 
 in this case, can Mrs C be, but the celebrated Miss Fibby 
 
 Fiction, the eldest daughter of my Lady Fancy, a personage of 
 great repute and influence in the scandalous world ; as for the 
 gallant colonel, depend upon't, he is no other than that fine, 
 bold, swaggering blade, who, it is well known, has been long 
 the declared adversary and rival of your country neighbour, Mr 
 Simple Truth." 
 
 "And yet by this, which you think an invention, has your 
 dv . mestic happiness, my lord, been sacrificed ? " 
 
 ■' Softly, Mordaunt," said the earl, " not so fast — my domestic 
 hrppiness has not been so maltreated by the Flamens — these 
 priests of Mars and Bellona, as I consider the newspapers — the 
 lieart and bowels were consumed on the altar of the Eumenides 
 long ago. But I cannot divine who has taken the trouble to 
 interfere so expeditiously." 
 
 Mordaunt then told his lordship of the conversation which he 
 had held with Andrew, describing the singular appearance and 
 cunning simplicity of our hero. 
 
 The earl was struck with the information, and exclaimed, "It 
 is impossible that Wylie could have contrived any thing half so 
 ingenious as this paragraph. But I will sound the bottom of it 
 immediately." 
 
 In the same moment his lordship rung the bell. Wylie 
 happened to be then at the door, coming to thank him for his 
 kindness; and the servant who answered the bell announced 
 him. 
 
 Andrew, from the moment that Vellum had communicated to 
 him the generous interference of the earl, had undergone an 
 
 ,■4. m 
 
 It 
 
 m 
 
 ii 
 
124 
 
 SIB ANDREW WYLIE. 
 
 
 m- 
 
 intellectual transmutation. An irresistible sentiment of gratitude 
 arose in his heart, so strong and powerful, that it became as it 
 M-ere a principle of duty ; and actuated by this hallowed and 
 gracious feeling, without reflecting on the impropriety of obtrud- 
 ing on his lordship, at a time when a more worldly head would 
 have concluded that the earl was not likely to be in a humour to 
 receive him, he went to Sandyford House. 
 
 ^ On entering *he library, he was struck with the change in 
 his lordship's mien and air. Instead of the quiet smile of in- 
 tellectual indolence which his lordship usually wore, his counte- 
 nance was lighted up ; and there was a quickness in his eye, and 
 a precision in his manner, that disconcerted the self-possession 
 of our hero. 
 
 "How is this, Wylie!— here already!" said the earl, surprised 
 at his sudden appearance. 
 
 " I am come to thank your lordship," said Andrew, modestly. 
 
 The earl was as much astonished at the diffidence with which 
 this answer was expressed, as Andrew himself was at the exactitude 
 of his lordship's question. Mordaunt looked on, curiously ex- 
 amining them both. 
 
 " Say nothing about thanks, Wylie," cried his lordship. " I 
 hope what Mr Vellum intends to do for you, wiU be repaid by 
 your endeavours to give him satisfaction," 
 
 Andrew replied, still diffidently, " The will's hearty, my lord, 
 but the ban's weak ; I hope, howsomever, that your lordship 
 wiU let me do something to oblige yoursel', as wee' as Mr 
 Vellum." 
 
 Desirous to avoid the promptings of our hero's gratitude, the 
 earl interrupted him, saying, " Pray, can you tell me how this 
 got into the newpaper ?" showing him the paragraph. 
 
 Andrew read it over studiously, and then said, » My lord, this 
 is glammerie ;" and ho then explained to the earl, that he 
 suspected it was a device to obviate the effect of the former 
 paragraph. 
 
 Mordaunt was surprised at the sagacity of the seeming sim- 
 pleton. His lordship was no less so; and, pleased with the 
 coincidence with his own opinion, loudly expressed his appro- 
 bation of the conjecture. 
 
CHAPTKa XXVril. AN ATTEMPT. 
 
 125 
 
 Our hero then related what had passed between liim and 
 Nettle ; adding some reflections of his own, calculated, as he 
 intended, to lighten the importance which he supposed the earl 
 attached to the paragraph. " They are a wheen wily gleds in 
 this town," said he, slyly looking from under his bent brows. 
 " Though it's a hang't lee, my lord, I hope the tae half o't will 
 be true, and that you and my leddy" 
 
 The earl's countenance changed, and Andrew shrunk trem- 
 blingly from the stern rebuke of his eye ; but Mordaunt, who 
 saw the well-meant presumption of the observation, interfered 
 and said, '' You aro quite right, Mr Wylie ; and you could not 
 better show the sense of obligation, which you seem to feel to- 
 wards his lordship, than by wishing, as you do, a reconciliation 
 with the countess." 
 
 Lord Sandyford felt ofl'ended with Mordaunt for the freedom 
 with which he addressed himself so openly on so delicate a 
 subject, and to so young a man, and one, too, of our hero's 
 condition. 
 
 Andrew, however, was encouraged by this interposition, and 
 said, " Odsake, my lord, ye maunna flee up at ony thing I say ; 
 for it would be an ill return for your lordship's goodness, and the 
 discretion I have had at my leddy's han', were no I to ettle my 
 best" 
 
 " Peace !" cried the earl. Andrew looked round to Mordaunt, 
 coweringly and jocularly, as if in dread of a castigation. 
 
 " You might at least hear what Mr Wylie has to say," cried 
 Mordaunt. " Kindness at all times merits civility." 
 
 " Well, and what has Mr Wylie to say ?" exclaimed the earl, a 
 Uttle contemptuously, looking at our hero, who was, however, 
 none daunted by his manner ; but, on the contrary, urged by 
 gratitude and the encouragement of Mordaunt, replied, 
 
 " I didna think your lordship was sic a spunkie — ye'U no mend 
 your broken nest, my lord, by dabbing at it. So, out o' the 
 regard I hae baith for you and my leddy, I would speer what for 
 ye put her awa' ?" 
 
 The earl, confounded by this category, almost laughed, and 
 cried, "Why, thou paragon of animals, she went away herself." 
 
 •1 
 
 '■■■ '-J* 
 
126 
 
 SIR ANDREW WYLIE. 
 
 
 is ' 
 
 I*' 
 
 I'.. i. , 
 
 ir-Ati - 
 liii'- 
 
 li 
 
 iH 
 
 re«¥.j?^ .' 
 
 " Poor body !" replied Andrew, " ye maun hae used her very 
 ill, my lord ?" 
 
 This was said in such a manner, that Mordaunt and the earl 
 looked at each other. He saw their astonishment, but took no 
 notice of it, continuing, " She was a fine leddy — maybe a wee 
 that dressy and fond o' outgait — I'll no say she was entirely with- 
 out a fault, for we a' hae our faults, my lord — and I'm in a great 
 ane to speak wi' this freedom to your lordship ; but when I think 
 what ye hae done for me — I was a friendless lad, and ye took me 
 by the ban' — and could I sit still and see scathe befall my bene- 
 factor, I wouldna be a stirk o' the right stock that's bred on the 
 Ian' o' Scotland." 
 
 There was something in this approaching to energy; insomuch, 
 that the earl said, " I am ;n ach obliged to you ; I thank you for 
 the interest you take in my happiness. It does honour to your 
 feelings ; but you will oblige me by saying no more on the 
 subject." 
 
 The manner in which his lordship spoke was at once mild and 
 firm. It admitted of no reply, and it offended no feeling. It 
 neither made our hero sensible that he had transgressed the 
 limits of decorum, nor that he ought to regret what he had done; 
 but it effectually closed his lips, and he rose to take his leave. 
 The earl said to him, as he was on the point of retiring, " I 
 intended to have had the pleasure of seeing you with Mr Vellum 
 before leaving town, but that I find wiU not now be convenient. 
 Make my compliments to him, and say, that he will have the 
 goodness to send the papers I Avant to Chastington Hall, as I 
 have determined to set off early to-morrow morning." 
 
 Andrew, with humble respectfulness, and more emotion than 
 his lordship deemed him susceptible of, then withdrew. 
 
 " I am glad to be rid of the fellow," said his lordship, as the 
 door shut ; " we sliould have been in heroics, with handkerchiefs 
 at our tragical eyes presently ; and as I do not think the Scottish 
 dialect is at all sufficiently sonorous for blank verse, don't you 
 think, as a matter of taste, it was right to send him hence ? I 
 am sorry, however, to have been so peremptory with him. The 
 gods play with our hearts as shuttlecocks. Here is a woman 
 
 
CHAPTER XXVUI. — AN ATTEMPT. 
 
 127 
 
 motion than 
 
 that I did not believe had life to feci even an insult, has gone off 
 a flaming seraph, reddening with hostility — and an unlicked 
 thing — becoming at once the noblest work of God — startling my 
 baser humanity almost into tears." 
 
 During the time that his lordship was thus speaking, he 
 continued walking up and down the library. Sometimes he 
 addressed himself to Mordaunt ; but, for the most part, what he 
 said was in soliloquy, and he was evidently deeply agitated ; at 
 last he made a full stop, and said, " I am really persuaded that 
 this young ' Edwin is no vulgar boy.' There is much virtue in 
 that awkward simplicity of his ; for it begets negligence towards 
 his talents, and that negligenco enables him to acquire advan- 
 tages which the creature, by a curious instinct, somehow uses in 
 a way that is positively commanding, but which, in any other 
 individual, would be downright and intolerable presumption 
 and impudence." 
 
 After this the conversation became light and general, all 
 further allusion to the separation being studiously avoided. The 
 earl occasionally, however, spoke of his intended journey next 
 morning to Chastington Hall ; but, as if there was something 
 unhappy assdciated with the idea, he as often hastily embraced 
 another topic. Before Mordaunt left him, he gave orders for 
 the carriage to be ready at an early hour, to convey him fronj 
 town. 
 
 " I have long thought," said he, in bidding Mordaimt fare- 
 well, " that excellence Avas o very modest ingredient ; but I had 
 no conception that wisdom lurked in so strange a form as in 
 that creature Wylie : therefore, I would advise you to trust him 
 in your conjugal affair ; and if he do you service, which, from 
 his acuteness, I am sure he may, you will not neglect to reward 
 him. I wish that I had noticed his true character sooner." 
 
 i; 
 
 
128 
 
 SIR ANDREW WTLIE. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 Uiiil 
 
 '1km 
 
 Wl 
 
 
 ■■'lit • 
 
 m I 
 
 ■%.' "I 
 
 THE FAMILY MANSION. 
 
 Chastington Hall, the principal seat of the Sandyford 
 family, was one of those fine old mansions which are only to be 
 seen in England, and which combine, with the antique grandeur 
 of the baronial castle, the cheerful conveniences of the modern 
 villa. It was erected in the latter part of Queen Elizabeth's 
 reign, when the airy pinnacles, turrets, and tracery of the Gothic 
 style, were first attempted to be assimilated to the symmetry of 
 classic architecture. 
 
 The court-yard was entered by a stately portal, surmounted 
 by a clock in a templar edifice, crowned with a dome, in the 
 form of an earl's coronet ; and the quadrangle of the court, in 
 the centre of which a marble fountain threw up water from the 
 shells of mermaids and tritons, was surrounded by an arcade. 
 Numerous doors opened from this arcade to the lower range of 
 apartments, and a spacious marble staircase, richly adorned with 
 allegorical paintings, in the taste of Charles the Second's time, 
 ascended from the court to splendid suits of galleries and 
 chambers, all furnished in that costly anil massive style which 
 accorded with the formal pageantry of the magnificent courtiers 
 of the Stuarts. 
 
 The situation was chosen with admirable taste and judgment. 
 The mansion occupied the summit of a gentle rising ground, in 
 the middle of an extensive park, naturally commanding a wide 
 expansive prospect ; and the approach was by a superb avenue 
 of beech-trees, which seemed to droop their branches in saluta- 
 tion, as their master, towards the close of the day, was driven 
 rapidly towards the portal. 
 
 The earl had never before visited this princely place, and of 
 course it had suffered by his absence, although the servants had 
 preserved every thing as well as it could be preserved, without 
 repairs and renovations. It had therefore, in some degree, a 
 faded and melancholy appearance ; and when the carriage passed 
 through the grand entrance, his lordship thought, or rather felt, 
 
CIIAPTEE XXIX. — THE FAMILY MANSION. 
 
 129 
 
 that the echoes in the arcade clamoured as if they had been 
 suddenly awakened by the unusual sound of wheels, and rebuked 
 hini for his long neglect. 
 
 As he travelled with post-horses, he was accompanied only 
 by Servinal, his valet; indeed, he had determined to make no 
 other addition to the usual establishment at Chastington Hall, 
 the strict economy to which he was resolved to reduce himself, 
 requiring every practical retrenchment. 
 
 During the greater part of the journey he had been silent 
 and thoughtful. The only observation which he made, in the 
 whole time of the last stage, escaped from him involuntarily, 
 when he first beheld the numerous gilded domes and turrets of 
 the mansion, glittering above the trees in the setting sun. It 
 was simple, brief, and emphatic—" Have I thought of sacri- 
 ficing this?" 
 
 The carriage drove in to the foot of the grand staircase, where 
 the servants were assembled to receive him. The men were, 
 for the most part, grey-headed, and in their best liveries ; but, 
 although the colours were the same, the fashion of the clothes 
 was not in so spruce a taste as those of their London compeers; 
 and some of them, instead of smart white cotton stockings, wore 
 their legs decently clothed in grey worsted. The household 
 appearance of the women was no less peculiar. They were like- 
 wise dressed in their gayest attire, but rather in the orderly 
 Sabine simplicity of the grange and farm, tlian in that buxom 
 neatness that characterizes the full-formed female domestics, 
 belonging to those seats of the nobility which the families are 
 Btill so patriotic as to visit regularly in summer, like the swal- 
 lows and cuckoos. 
 
 But we should be guilty of unpardonable incivility towards 
 Mrs Valence, the housekeeper, were we to allow a personage of 
 her importance to be dismissed from our account of the earl's 
 reception, without some special and discriminative marks of onr 
 regard, particularly as his lordship himself showed, by the most 
 courteous deference, the high esteem in which he held her char- 
 acter; and the equally great satisfaction with which lie was per- 
 suaded, at the first glance, she had, on all occasions, uphold the 
 dignity and consideration of the family. She was a tall and 
 3 
 
 m 
 
130 
 
 SIR ANDREW WYLIE. 
 
 W 'i 
 
 mn UM 
 
 mi 
 
 uj^f 
 
 f,'. 
 
 
 ,»* *t 
 
 ample personage, with a gentle oscillation of the head, which 
 seemed rather to indicate a lofty sense of her own supremacy, 
 than the infirmity of a slight paralytic affection. She stood on 
 the third step of the stair, in the stately superiority of a full suit 
 of dark-brown rustling double- tabinet, of which the unstinted 
 flounces, and manifold ruffle-cuffs, bore testimony to the taste 
 and prodigality of the mantua-makers of other times; a vast 
 well-starched kerchief-souffle expanded her bosom into swan- 
 like amplitude ; and her hair was not only hightly frizzled and 
 powdered, but sustained a spacious structure of lace, muslins, 
 catgut, and ribands, the very wiry skeleton of which was suffi- 
 cient to have furnished iron for the shackles of more than 
 twenty perjured lovers in these degenerate days. Her hands 
 and arms were invested with cambric gloves, as pure as the 
 napery which it was her pride and delight, once more, before 
 she died, to give out that morning to old Corkly, the butler, for 
 the use of her noble master; and her feet were in none of those 
 slip-slop things that are only fit for the bedchamber, but 
 decorously installed in high-heeled red morocco shoes, adorned 
 with knots of white riband, so affluent, that they attracted the 
 attention of his lordship, as she conducted him through the pic- 
 ture-gallery to the principal drawing-room, and he could not 
 refrain from complimenting her, even at the expense of a pun, 
 in having such handsome beaux at hor feet. 
 
 Mrs Valence stopped instantly at the words, and placing her 
 hands formally over each other, on her bosom, made him as 
 solemn a curtsy as the Princess Ilayal, at the commencement of 
 a minuet, at a birthday ball of her late most gracious Majesty 
 Queen Charlotte. His lordship, with no less corresponding 
 gravity, returned a profound bow ; and when she had recovered 
 her wonted elevation, he followed her in silence, wondering into 
 what venerable palace, amidst the pageant rites and olden 
 homages of Fairyland, he had been so curiously translated. 
 
 V/hcn he cntcrcil the drawing-room, he was pleased with the 
 domestic taste in which it was evidently set for use, notwithstand- 
 ing the heavy golden grandeur of the furnit"ve, but felt a little 
 disappointed at seeing the silver chandeliers and sconces filled 
 with candles ; however, he good-humourcdly resolved to allow 
 
CnAPTER XSIX. — THE FAMILY MANSIOX. 
 
 131 
 
 the old servants to indulge theiaselves for that night, nor, on 
 reflection, was he averse to obtain unsought, a specimen of the 
 hereditary style in which his ancestors had been accustomed to 
 live. While he was cursorily looking at the pictures which 
 adorned the walls, but which, as the sun was set, he could see 
 only imperfectly, his valet came into the room to enquire if he 
 intended to dresS for dinner. 
 
 " I believe it is not worth while, Servinal. But perhaps I 
 ought ; they will expect it," said the earl. 
 
 " I think they do, my lord," replied Servinal. 
 
 " Then," cried the earl, " I will not disappoint them. Have 
 you brought a court-dress with you ?" 
 
 The valet smiled, and said he had not. 
 
 When his lordship had dressed, and had returned back into the 
 drawing-room, the bell over the portal was rung, and the house- 
 steward, a rv3spectable old man out of livery, announced that 
 dinner was ready. The eafl followed him, and immediately on 
 entering the picture-gallery, another old man proclaimed, " My 
 lord !" upon which the folding-doors at the end of the gallery 
 were thrown open by two younger footmen. The earl proceeded, 
 and on reaching the landing-place he turned round to Mrs 
 Valence, who was standing there, and said, with an air of great 
 consideration, " Pray, does Queen Elizabeth, with the noble Earl 
 of Leicester, dine here to day?" 
 
 " I believe not, my lord," replied the stately housekeeper, with 
 undisturbed consequcntiality. 
 
 This was more than the earl expected, and it forced him to 
 laugh as he descended the great staircase ; but on entering the 
 dining-room, or rather, as it wcs called among the household, 
 the banqueting-room, he started on seeing a table laid out for 
 at least a dozen guests, and covered with ponderous ancient 
 massy plate. 
 
 " What is the meaning of this ?" he exclaimed in a tone of 
 displeasure : " Who is to dine here ?'' 
 
 Corkly, the butler, came up, and with three bows told him, 
 that " it was an old custom of the family to dine always in state 
 while at Chastington, in order to be prepared to receive any 
 guests that might by accident come." 
 
132 
 
 SIE ANDREW WYLIE. 
 
 The earl would have said, I hope it is not expected that I am to 
 keep open house; but he checked himself, and said gaily, 
 " Fashioas are somewhat changed since the golden age — that is, 
 the age of the guineas, Corkly. However, to-night perform your 
 duty as you were wont to do in ray father's time ; or rather, if 
 you please, in my grandfather's." 
 
 " I was not, my lord, in the service of Earl James, your lord- 
 ship's grandfather," said Corkly, with an air that would have been 
 called dignified in an old courtier speaking of George the Second ; 
 " but I have been forty-three years in the service of your lord- 
 ship's noble family." 
 
 " Indeed !" said the earl playfully ; " tli a I must take lessons 
 from you as to the etiquettes I am bound to observe at Chasting ■ 
 ton ;" and, in saying these words, he seated himself at the table, 
 when one of the servants in attendance touched the spring of 
 a large musical German clock, which immediately began to play 
 one of Handel's overtures. But the machinery being somewhat 
 out of tune, the earl called out to them in mercy to stop that 
 horrid musical ogre; and turning round to the butler, said, 
 " Save me this discord of Magog's accompaniment to my knife 
 aad fork, and I will not interfere vrith your rites and homages 
 to-night." 
 
 " As your lordship pleases," replied Corkly, with the reverence 
 of a worshippe'. . 
 
 The eye and fancy of the earl were thus interested and amused 
 on the night of his first arrival at the great mansion of his an- 
 cestors. There was a simplicity in the domestics which pleased 
 him exceedingly, and their little awkwardnesses, with the for- 
 mality and ceremonial which they made use of in their attend- 
 ance, seemed to him at once venerable and picturesque. Corkly 
 told him, that although the cellar had not been replenished for 
 more than thirty years, it still contained several delicious vintages, 
 and the earl encouraged the generous old man to expatiate on the 
 glories of other years ; but though he seemed amused by the 
 recital, an occasional shade came over his spirits, and he reflected, 
 with a sigh, on the unhonoured years he had squandered away 
 in London. 
 
 When he returned to the drawing-room, it :vaa superbly illu- 
 
CL that I am to 
 d said gaily, 
 I age — that i8, 
 perform your 
 ; or rather, if 
 
 63, your lord- 
 (uld have been 
 ;e the Second ; 
 of your lord- 
 
 3t take lessons 
 } at Chasting" 
 If at the table, 
 the spring of 
 began to play 
 ing somewhat 
 y to stop that 
 I butler, said, 
 t to ray knife 
 and homages 
 
 the reverence 
 
 id and amused 
 ion of his an- 
 which pleased 
 with the for- 
 their attend- 
 3que. Corkly 
 splenished for 
 nous vintages, 
 patiate on the 
 [nuscu uy the 
 d he reflected, 
 andered away 
 
 superbly illu- 
 
 CUAPTEB XXX. — NOBLE AUTHORSHIP. 
 
 133 
 
 minaied; but his heart recoiled from the solitary grandeur 
 around, and as it was yet early in the evening, he ordered a fire 
 to be lighted in a smaller apartment. He enquired if there were 
 any books in the house, and heard, with surprise and delight, 
 that it contained a library of many thousand volumes, to which, 
 however, no addition had been made since the death of his father; 
 indeed, every enquiry served to remind him how much he had 
 neglected this princely mansion, and how he had declined from 
 the patriotic aristocracy of his fathers. 
 
 The following morning he walked into the park, and saw in 
 every place the stateliest trees marked for the woodman, and 
 many already felled. 
 
 " I could not have imagined," he said, in writing to Mordaunt, 
 . and mentioning the effect on his feelings, " that the odd trick 
 was such an edge-tool." 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 NOBLE AUTHORSHIP. 
 
 The first week after the arrival of Lord Sandyford at Chast- 
 ington Hall passed more agreeably than might have been 
 expected, considering the suddenness of the change which it 
 occasioned in his manner of living. Two or three days "were 
 spent in examining the house, and the curiosities which remained 
 OS so many mon aments of the taste and whim of his ancestors, 
 and, above all, in an inspection of the family pictures. His 
 lordship had some pretensions to a physiognomical perception 
 of character, and he amused himself with conjectures as to the 
 mind and disposition of the direct line from which he was him- 
 self desfier.dwl, tracing, or rather fancying that ho traced, the 
 features which indicated the particular points of resemblance in 
 their respective characters. This recreation was occasionally 
 broken in upon by visits from soma of the neighbouring gentle- 
 men, with whom, although he received them with his wonted 
 
 1| 
 
134 
 
 SIR ANDREW AVYLIE. 
 
 politeness, he showed no inclination to cultivate an acquaintance; 
 on the contrary, he took several opportunities to inform them 
 that he had come to Chastington expressly for retirement. He 
 aiso visited his domain ; and having suspended the general orders 
 for the cutting down of the timber, he formed from his own 
 observation another plan of thinning the woods, without materi- 
 ally affecting the beauty of the sylvan furniture of the park, 
 especially in the immediate vicinity of the mansion. His eye 
 had a natural perception of the picturesque; and the plan 
 which he thus adopted, instead of impairingthe magnificence of 
 the rides and walks, had the effect of rendering them more 
 pleasant and diversified in the views. The trees which were 
 felled allowed more light, as it were, to be thrown upon the 
 landscape, and prospects were opened, of the extent of which no 
 previous conception had been formed. 
 
 It was his custom in the morning to ride round the park, and 
 from the different eminences to examine what distant objects 
 might be seen from the parts covered with wood, and then to 
 order the woodman to fell in such direction as would bring a 
 village spire, an ancient tower, or a modern mansion, into the 
 termination of the vista which they laid open. But it was 
 around the hall that this species of picturesque economy was 
 most judiciously managed. In the course of years, the timber 
 had so increased in magnitude that it inclosed the building with 
 a depth and darkness of umbrageous boughs, altogether incon- 
 sistent with the florid lightness of the architecture, the effect of 
 which produced a degree of gloom and solemnity in the build- 
 ing, strangely at variance with the fanciful style of the place. 
 The earl, by throwing down some of the trees which had grown 
 to such a height as to intercept the views, and by letting in the 
 light through the general masses of the surrounding woods, 
 produced a change truly magical ; but he spared the celebrated 
 chestnut which darkens the southern windows. The lamenta- 
 tion in the neisrhbourhood for the firo old trees of Chast.incton, 
 was changed into rejoicing, and all the visiters declared their 
 delight and satisfaction at the improvements. 
 
 But although, in this manner, the earl for some time created 
 not only amusement, but business for himself, there was a same- 
 
CHAPTER XXX. — ^NOBLE AUTnORSlIIP. 
 
 13.5 
 
 cquaintance ; 
 inform them 
 rement. lie 
 eneral orders 
 rem his own 
 ;hout materi- 
 
 of the park, 
 )n. His eye 
 nd the plan 
 ignificence of 
 r them more 
 
 which were 
 svn upon the 
 ; of which no 
 
 ihe park, and 
 stant objects 
 
 and then to 
 ould bring a 
 ion, into the 
 
 But it was 
 economy was 
 s, the timber 
 building with 
 rether incon- 
 , the eflFeet of 
 in the build- 
 of the place. 
 !h had grown 
 letting in the 
 iding woods, 
 he celebrated 
 ?he lamenta- 
 
 rihastinctmi. 
 
 ~~ - — ^ — . 
 
 eclared their 
 
 time created 
 ; was a same* 
 
 ness in tho undertaking, and a patience requisite, which did not 
 exactly suit the ardour and activity of his character, and he had 
 recourse to other means of recreation. Having prescribed their 
 work to the woodmen, he resolved to wait the issue of the full 
 effect ; and in order that he might prevent his restlessness from 
 preying on himself, he endeavoured to find pastime in changing 
 the appearance of the state apartments, not by the expensive 
 medium of repairs or upholstery, but by new arrangements of 
 the paintings and sculpture, the china and the cabinets; but 
 still there was something wanting. This also he found must 
 become a subordinate concern — a matter of occasional recrea- 
 tion ; for it afforded none of that earnest exercise to the mind 
 which he longed to obtain. At last he had recourse to the 
 library; and after a miscellaneous and cursory glance of the 
 collection, he set himself into a regular course of historical 
 reading. 
 
 To read was, with Lord Sandyford, to think. Every page 
 that his eye travelled furnished some new association to his 
 mind, till the most remarkable and striking incidents of general 
 history became connected with the passing topics of his own 
 time ; for the French Revolution was then raging in all its fury, 
 and drawing into its destruct' e whirlpool the venerable insti- 
 tutions of successive wisdom and experience. 
 
 The excitement which this systematic acquisition of know- 
 ledge produced, operated to an immediate effect. His lordship 
 became dissatisfied with the inadequate policy by which it was 
 attempted to suppress the natural issue of a long-continued 
 accumulation of moral impulses ; and, actuated by the new light 
 which he had acquired on the subject of national mutations, 
 began to write an historical view of the political effects of popu- 
 lar opinions. 
 
 When he had finished this pamphlet, he was conscious that, 
 however just his reflections, and indisputable his facts, it was 
 not, in point of style and arrangement, such as would do him 
 credit in the character of an author. He was aware that the 
 habit he had acquired of contemplating every thing through an 
 ironical medium, in some degree affected his reasoning even in 
 his most serious moments, and that he used terms and phrases 
 
 
136 
 
 SIE ANDBEVr VVTLIE. 
 
 in a recondite sense, not altogether understood by the generality 
 of the public ; so that, while his taste, with respect to the com- 
 position of others, was remarkably nure and just, he feared that 
 his own work might be considered as conceited in its diction, 
 and deficient in that air of sincerity essential to produce effect! 
 He therefore longed for the assistance of a literary friend to 
 correct its incongruities ; but there was no such being within 
 the whole compass of all the adjacent parishes. At ono time he 
 thought of writing to his bookseller in London to procure, and 
 send to him by the coach, some one of those retainers of the 
 press who execute the editorial duties to new editions of old 
 works ; but he had early taken an anti- social prejudice against 
 authors and artists in general, and c juld not endure the thought 
 of having his sequestration disturbed by the caprice of beings 
 whom he considered as sorely skinless to every thing that but 
 seemed to interfere with their vanities. Publish, however, he 
 must : he felt himself urged to it by the very hand of fate itself, 
 and he could not resist the force of a necessity that was as irre- 
 sistible to him as if he had been the hero of a Greek or German 
 tragedy, yearning to commit a crime. 
 
 In this dilemma he thought of our hero, of whose prudence he 
 had begun to entertain a favourable opinion, and wrote to him 
 to find some clever literary man, who would undertake to prepare 
 a pamphlet for the press ; saying, that he would pay liberally 
 for the assistance, but that he wished to remain unknown. 
 
 Andrew was at first not a little perplexed by the earl's com- 
 mission. He knew no author, nor was he in habits of inter- 
 course with any one who did; till recollecting Nettle, the 
 reporter, he resolved to apply to him, with a previous determi- 
 nation, however, not to employ him in the business. Accord- 
 ingly, the same afternoon in which he received his lordsliip's 
 letter, he went to the newspaper-ofllce, under the pretext of 
 enquiring of Nettle if he knew of any person who would take 
 charge of a small parcel to Scotland for him. 
 
 No visit was ever better timed : it was exactly at the wonted 
 hour when Nettle usually went to his chop-house for dinner; 
 and Andrew, while speaking to him respecting the little packet 
 he had to send to his grandmother, said, " But, Mr Nettle, if 
 
m-i 
 
 chapteh XXX. — noble authorship. 
 
 137 
 
 ye're gaun to seek your dinner, it's just ray time too, and may be 
 ye'll no object to let me go with you." 
 
 Nettle was not a little pleased with the proposition ; for, pos- 
 sessing a strong relish of drollery, Andrew was a character that 
 could not fail, he thought, to furnish him with some amuse- 
 ment. 
 
 "But," rejoined our hero, when he found his company accepced, 
 " ye'll no tak ne to an extravagant house — no that I mind, mair 
 than my neighbours, to birl my bawbee at a time, but in ilka-day 
 meals I am obligated to hae a regard for frugality." 
 
 Nettle profited by the hint, and took Andrew to one of the 
 best coflFee-houses in the neighbourhood. Our hero perceived 
 his drift ; but he also thought to himself, " This is an occasion 
 when I should liirl my bawbee." However, upon entering the 
 room, he feigned great alarm, and catching hold of his com- 
 panion earnestly by the arm, said, " Noo, Mr Nettle, I hope this 
 house is no aboon half-a-crown. Od, Mr Nettle, I dinna like 
 the looks o't — I doot the folk that come here drink wine." 
 
 Nettle laughed, and seating himself at one of the tables, said, 
 "Don't be frightened, Andrew; leave the matter to me — 111 
 manage every thing in the most economical manner." 
 
 " Mind it's on condition ye do sae that I sit doun," replied our 
 hero, seemingly very awkwardly affected by the appearance of 
 the company around, as if a young man, who was in the practice 
 of frequenting the tables and parties of the most fashionable 
 houses, was likely to be disconcerted by the migratory visitants 
 of a coflFee-house. But he perceived that the reporter was unin- 
 formed as to this, and his object was to make this man of the 
 town subservient to his purposes. 
 
 Dinner was ordered by Nettle, who, while it was setting down, 
 said dryly, " It is usuf\l, you know, to have a bottle of white wine 
 during dinner ; but, as we are on an economical regimen, I will 
 only order a pint," 
 
 " I never ordered a Tiint o' wine since I was born-," cried 
 Andrew to Nettle, who immediately said, " O very well ! I have 
 no objection — waiter, bring a bottle." 
 
 Our hero was here caught in his own snare, and exclaimeil 
 with unaffected sincerity, " A whole bottle ! " 
 
;'lSi ■ 
 
 Mi' 
 
 I* ^^ 
 
 'Itt, 
 
 138 
 
 SIB ANDREW WTLIE. 
 
 Nettle was exceedingly diverted, and laughed at his own joke, 
 especially when Andrew said, as the wine was placed on the 
 table, " This is what I ca' a rank shame ;" but he was much less 
 displeased than he pretended, and cunningly added, " I'm think- 
 ing that this trade of translating and writing paragraphs of yours, 
 Mr Nettle, is no an ill line, an' a body could get weel intil't, 
 and had a name." 
 
 " I think," replied Nettle, delighted with his companion, "that 
 you ought to try your hand, Andrew. I'm sure any thing from 
 your pen must amuse the public." 
 
 " Hooly, hooly," cried Andrew ; "a' in a gude time, Mr Nettle 
 — I hae my notions on the subjec, but we maun creep before we 
 gang — only there' u, a curiosity in the craft that I dinna weel 
 understand ; and that is, how to correc the press, and to put in 
 the points, wi' the lave o' the wee perjinkities ; — that, I hae a 
 thought, is no an easy concern." 
 
 " As to the wee perjinkities, as you call them, and matters of 
 that sort, the printers take a great part of the trouble oflF the 
 author's hands. But the plague is with the substantial matter, 
 Andrew ; defects in that are not so easily remedied." 
 
 "But surely they can be remedied?" exclaimed our sly sim- 
 pleton. 
 
 Nettle was mightily pleased with this sally, and said, "Andrew, 
 when your book's ready to print, let me know, and I'll give you 
 a lift in that way." 
 
 " It's \ cry discreet o' you to offer sae ; but is't true that there 
 are folk in London wha mak a leeving by sicklike wark ?" 
 
 " True ! " cried Nettle. " How do you suppose the speeches 
 of members of parliament are got up for publication — the voyages 
 and travels of country gentlemen — novels of ladies of fashion — 
 or any of the other et cetera by which illiterate opulence seeks to 
 obtain literary renown?" 
 
 " Weel, this London is a wonderful place," replied Andrew ; 
 "and are there really folk that do thae kind o' jobs for siller?" 
 
 " To be sure there are ; and they make a snug thing of it." 
 
 "Noo, Mr Nettle, that's what I canna comprehend. Hae 
 they shops or oflSces? — Whar do they bide? — And how are 
 
 
CHAPTER XXX. — NOBLE AL'TIIOnSHIP. 
 
 139 
 
 is own joke, 
 aced on the 
 as much less 
 " I'm think- 
 phs of yours, 
 weel intil't, 
 
 anion, "that 
 Y thing from 
 
 e, Mr Nettle 
 ep before we 
 dinna weel 
 ,nd to put in 
 lat, I hae a 
 
 id matters of 
 auble off the 
 [itial matter, 
 
 our sly sim- 
 
 d, " Andrew, 
 I'll give you 
 
 lie that there 
 vark?" 
 the speeches 
 -the voyages 
 of fashion — 
 ence seeks to 
 
 led Andrew ; 
 for siller?" 
 ling of it." 
 ;hend. Hae 
 ind how are 
 
 they kent ? — They hae nae signs up ? — What's their denomina- 
 tion?" 
 
 " It's not easy to answer so many questions in a breath," re- 
 plied Nettle ; " but I could name you fifty. There, for example, 
 is our ow' countryman, Mole, he makes a thousand a-year by 
 the business." 
 
 " Weel, to be sure, how hidden things are brought to ligh^ ' 
 I ne'er," exclaimed Andrew, " could fathom by what hook or 
 crook he was leeving, nor whar he leeves. Whar is't ?" 
 
 Nettle told him ; and Andrew, inwardly overjoyed, proposed to 
 drink his health as a credit to Scotland, in a bumper, although 
 the cloth was not removed. 
 
 " Stop, stop, man ; it's not yet time ; let us have the table 
 cleared before we begin to toasts," said Nettle, laughing at 
 Andrew's supposed rustic simplicity. 
 
 Our hero then enquired what books Mole had edited and pre- 
 pared for the press ; and in what degree of estimation they were 
 held. Nettle told him the names of several; but Andrew 
 affected to doubt the truth fi*" uu said, and alleged that 
 they were perhaps not at ah ji that degree of merit which his 
 companion asserted. This begot something like a difference 
 of opinion between them . which ended in the reiteration of Nettle's 
 assertion, and an affirmation that the publishers would verify the 
 correctness of what he maintained. Andrew, however, did not 
 urge the matter further. He had thus adroitly acquired the 
 name and address of an able editor, and the names of the book- 
 sellers by wh( >m he was employed. He had, in consequence, 
 nothing further to say to Nettle that evening ; and accordingly, 
 pushing the wine-decanter past him, he rose to go away, saying, 
 " I'm no for ony mair." 
 
 " Sit down," cried Nettle, " and finish the wine. The wort 
 here is excellent." 
 
 " Ye wouldna hae me surely, Mr Nettle, to sit till I'm taver't? 
 As sure's death, I fin' the wine 'rinnin' in my head already — 
 III be fou if I drink ony mair. JS'o ; ye maun just let me gang 
 my ways. Ye'll pay the reckoning ; and if it dinna exceed five 
 shillings, I'll no grudge the cost o' your conversation, which has 
 been vera curious and agreeable — vera curious indeed, Mr Nettle. 
 
 
m 
 
 140 
 
 silt ANDREW WYLIE. 
 
 I 
 
 
 W.; 
 
 '&%■ 
 
 '*• I 
 
 al'* 
 
 ih 
 
 h"-' 
 
 1-^'— ■**! 
 
 
 I- 
 
 But gude-night ;" and in saying this, Andrew hurried from the 
 house. 
 
 His first course was to the shop of Mole's principal publisher, 
 where he enquired for one of the books ; and upon seeing it, he 
 looked into several passages as if he had been examining them 
 critically, and said, " I dinna think, now, that this is a very 
 weel-written work." 
 
 The bookseller was a little surprised at the remark ; but as 
 booksellers are accustomed to see wise and learned characters in 
 very queer and odd shapes, he gave Andrew credit for some 
 critical acumen, while he controverted his opinion, maintaining 
 the merits of the style and composition as both of the first class. 
 Andrew, however, stuck to his point, and finally declined to 
 purchase the work ; satisfied, however, that the publisher had 
 a high opinion of its literary merits. On leaving that shop he 
 went to another, and another, until he found the opinion of 
 Nettle fully verified. He then proceeded to the chambers of 
 Mole, whom he found at home, and whom he thus addressed 
 altliough they had no previous acquaintance : — " Mr Mole, I hae 
 a bit turn o' wark that wouldna be the war o' your helping 
 hand." 
 
 This abruptness startled the engineer of literature ; but as 
 he had seen the unlicked figure of Andrew at some of the fashion- 
 able houses, where he occasionally helped to make sensible 
 speeches for the gentlemen, he divined, in some degree, the 
 object of his visit, and civilly requested him to be seated, saying, 
 " Pray, may I ask the nature of the business ?" 
 
 " It's a kind o' a book that I hac a thought anent ; but no 
 being just as I could wish, in some respects, so particular in the 
 grammatical, I think that, before putting it out to the world, it 
 wouldna be the waur o' being coll'd and kaim't by an experienced 
 ban' like yours." 
 
 " Have you the manuscript with you ?" enquired Mole, en- 
 deavouring to look as serious as possible. 
 
 " No, sir ; I wantit first to keu if you would undertake the 
 work." 
 
 " That will, in some degree, depend on the nature of the sub- 
 ject and the amount of the remuneration," replied Mole. " Do 
 
CHAPTEK XXX. — NOBLE AUTH0E8UIP. 
 
 141 
 
 urried from the 
 
 you mean simply that I should revise the manuscript, or re-write 
 the work entirely ?" 
 
 " I mean that ye're no to hain your ability in the business ; 
 but what I want to ken is the cost — supposing now the vera ut- 
 most, and that ye were to write it all over again, what would 
 you expect ?" 
 
 " You will not grudge to pay me at the rate of ton guineas a 
 pica sheet octavo ?" 
 
 " I'm no versed in your trade ; but let me see a book that you 
 would mak your ellwand, and I'll maybe can then make a guess 
 at the estimate." An octavo volume, printed on pica type, was 
 produced, and the extent of a sheet explained to him. " Dear 
 me," he cried, " but this, sir, is a dreadfu' price — ten guineas 
 for doing the like o' that!— Na, na, sir, I couldna think o' mair 
 than five pounds ; and, if ye gie satisfaction, I'll try to make it 
 guineas." 
 
 In the end, however, a bargain was mad*, by which it was 
 agreed that the manuscript was to be submitted to the architect; 
 and if entire re-edification was found requisite, the remuneration 
 was to be at the rate of seven pounds ten shillings. Mole pleaded 
 earnestly for guineas ; but Andrew declared he could by no 
 possibility afford a farthing more. The same evening he wrote 
 to Lord Sandyford, that he had found a friend with some expe- 
 rience in the book-making line ; and that, if his lordship would 
 send up his manuscript, perhaps he could get hii'i to undertake 
 the job ; but that he was a particular man, and very high in his 
 price, which was commonly at the rate of ten guineas the sheet 
 of pica demy octavo. Nevertheless, he assured his lordship he 
 would try and get it done on as moderate terms as possible. 
 
 The earl knew as little of pica demy as Andrew himself, nor 
 did he care. The manuscript was sent by a special messenger 
 to our hero, who lost no time in taking it to Mole, by whom it 
 was cursorily glanced over in his presence. 
 
 Mole was struck with thf^ rompnsitinn, p.nd ih.p general eleganoo 
 of taste and imagination that scintillated in many passages ; and 
 he said to Andrew, with a sharp and an inquisitive look, " Is this 
 your work ?" 
 
 m 
 
 i-n 
 
 ^, 
 
142 
 
 SIB ANDREW WYLIE. 
 
 
 'If 
 
 " It's what I spoke to you anent. I'm thinking it's no sae bad 
 as ye expectit." 
 
 " Bad !" exclaimed Mole ; " it is full of the finest conceptions 
 of a masterly genius. This is inspiration — I am utterly 
 astonished." 
 
 " It's a great pleasure to me, sir," said Andrew, drj-ly, " that 
 ye're so weel satisfied wi't. I trust it will make you abate some- 
 thing in the price." 
 
 "We have made an agreement, and the terms must be fulfillal. 
 I cannot say that the work will require to be entirely re-written. 
 The material is precious, and wrought beautifully in many pass- 
 ages ; but it may, nevertheless, require to be recast." 
 
 " Then," said Andrew, " since ye like it so well. 111 pay the 
 seven pounds ten per sheet, pica demy octavo, but no a single 
 farthing mair, mind that ; for if you haud me to the straights o' 
 the bargain, I'll just be as severe upon you. So a' that I hae to 
 say for the present is the old byword, ' that they that do their 
 turn in time, sit half idle — ye'U make what speed ye dow.' " 
 
 The admiration of Mole was rather increased than diminished 
 wlien, after the departure of our hero, he read the manuscript 
 more leisurely. He deemed it utterly impossible that a being so 
 uncouth could have written such a work ; but lie had been told, 
 when he first observed his odd figure in society, that he was a 
 cr..ature of infinite whim and fancy ; and the manuscript was still 
 more calculated than this account to set all tlieories of physiog- 
 nomy at defiance. 
 
 As for Andrew himself, he exulted in the bargain, and at his 
 own address in suppressing, in the first instance, the rate at 
 which he had agreed the revision should be made, but the 
 effect intended by informing the earl that the price was to bo 
 seven pounds ten shillings per sheet, instead of ten guineas, 
 failed entirely in one respect ; fur his lordship was no further 
 satisfied with the bargain, than as another proof of the simpli- 
 city and integrity of his agent, at icttst it .so appeared in the 
 sequel ; for when the manuscript was recast and sent back to 
 Chastington Ilall, he remitted a hundred pounds for Mole, which 
 was nearly double the sum stipulated. AndrcAv, in taking the . 
 
it's no sae bad 
 
 st conceptions 
 '. am utterly 
 
 , (Irj'ly, " that 
 u abate some- 
 
 ist be fulfilleil. 
 >ly re-written, 
 in many pass- 
 
 3t." 
 
 11, ni pay the 
 it no a single 
 tie straights o' 
 ' that I hae to 
 ' that do their 
 ye dow.' " 
 an diminished 
 le manuscript 
 liat a being so 
 liad been told, 
 :hat he was a 
 icript was still 
 38 of physiog- 
 
 In, and at his 
 ;, the rate at 
 ide. liut the 
 ice was to bo 
 
 ten guineas, 
 as no further 
 )f the simpli- 
 jcared in the 
 
 sent back to 
 r Mole, which 
 n taking the , 
 
 CHAPTEn XXXI. — A SECRET EXPEDITION. 
 
 143 
 
 money to hira, said, " Ye'U find, sir, that I'm no waur than my 
 word ; there's n hundred pound note, and as for the balance, 
 ye'U just keep it to buy a snutF-box or ony other playock that 
 may please you better." 
 
 This liberality was, to the amazed reviser, still more extraor- 
 dinary, after the higgling he had suffered, than even the intellec- 
 tual merits of the pamphlet ; and in all companies afterwards, 
 he spoke of Andrew as an incomprehensible prodigy of genius. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 A SECRET EXI'EDITION, 
 
 In the mean time, the situation of Lady Sandyford at Elder- 
 bower with the dowaj^er, was far irom yielding u. y consolation 
 to her mortified spirit; for although the conduct of the old lady 
 was truly exemplary, there was yet a sadness in her kindness 
 that penetrated the heart of the countess with anguish. The 
 mother-lady was constantly picturing to her own imagination 
 tlie regular and gradual ruin of her only and darling son — he 
 who had been the pride of her maternal heart, the joy of her 
 widowhood and the glory of her expectations. No complaint 
 escaped her, but numberless little accidental expressions betraycU 
 the secret perturbation of her spirit; and more than once she 
 earnestly urged the young countess to allow her to write to the 
 earl, and to invite him to Elderbower. 
 
 The first time that the dowager clearly expressed this wish, 
 was one day after dinner. The weather out of doors was raw 
 and gloomy — an unusual depression had all the morning weighed 
 upon the spirits of both the ladies; and the countess began to 
 distrust the power with which she supposed herself eapahle of 
 adopting a new frame and course of life, that would one day 
 extort the admiration of her lord, and revive that affection which 
 she had lost, not forfeited. The old lady eagerly urged her suit; 
 
'f! 
 
 144 
 
 SIR ANDREW WYLIE. 
 
 
 ^f\ 
 
 aEBrming, that it was impossible her son could have fallen so 
 entirely from the original magnanimity of lus nature, as to slight 
 an endeavour to recover his esteem, which had all the energy of 
 contrition, with the grandeur of virtue. "Believe me, Lady 
 & .ndyford," exclaimed the partial mother, "that if he knew the 
 depth of jour sorry at the misfortune that has come upon you 
 both, there is nothing within the reach of his power and ability, 
 that he would not exert to console you." 
 
 The countess burst into tears, and replied, "Alas! my dear 
 mother, in what is this to end? I am conscious of my inno- 
 cence. I know that I have never swerved from the purity of a 
 wife; but I have failed to retain the affections of my husband; 
 because, in the lightness of youth, and the intoxication of vanity, 
 I was more gratified with the loquacious admiration of those 
 whom I in reality despised than with the quiet and placid tenor 
 of his affection. My eyes are opened to my error— they have 
 been opened by the consequences — vexation for my disregard 
 may have irritated him into many of those follies that both your 
 ladyship and I deplore, and may have to mourn all the remainder 
 of our lives. But what I now most immediately suffer, is the 
 grief of knowing, that while I am here you have the monitor of 
 your affliction constantly before you; and, alas! I cannot go 
 away without giving some warranting to the evil report of the 
 world." 
 
 "But why will you not allow me to tell George the state of 
 your feelings, and leave it to himself to determine whether he 
 will come to Elderbower or not?" 
 
 The dowager, in saying this, took the countess gently by the 
 Land, adding, "Indeed, my dear Augusta, you are wrong in 
 this— you are sacrificing yourself— you are distressing me; and 
 I fear you may have cause to rue the effect on George." 
 
 Lady Sandyford dried her eyes, and said, "Ah, I fear your 
 ladyship thinks of him as if he was still a boy ! You are little 
 aware of the latent strength of his character; nor was I, till re- 
 flacting on many things since I came to this house. Whateve' 
 bis faults or his errors may be, meanness is not one of them. 
 Nothing would be so easy as to bring him here, out of compas- 
 
ClIArXEB XXXI. — A SECBET EXPEDITION. 
 
 IA5 
 
 lave fallen so 
 re, as to slight 
 . the energy of 
 eve me, Latly 
 f he knew the 
 ime upon you 
 er and ability, 
 
 Uas! my dear 
 IS of my inno- 
 the purity of a 
 * my husband; 
 ition of vanity, 
 •ation of those 
 id placid tenor 
 •or — they have 
 
 my disregard 
 that both your 
 
 the remainder 
 Y suifer, is the 
 the monitor of 
 ! I cannot go 
 I report of the 
 
 re the state of 
 tie whether he 
 
 gently by the 
 are wrong in 
 ssing me; and 
 orge." 
 
 h, I fear your 
 You are little 
 ■ was I, till ro- 
 se. Whatevc 
 one of them. 
 »ut of compas- 
 
 sion; but I cannot be an object of compassion to the man I love. 
 The very virtue of his generosity takes the nature of a vice 
 towards me, and I dare not appeal to it." 
 
 She could add no more — the tears rushed into her eyes; and 
 she wept so bitterly that the old lady became alarmed, and said, 
 "This, Augusta, is what I did not look for from you. Let us 
 drop the subject. But I will write to George ; and without say- 
 ing you are with me, I will enquire into the circumstances, as 
 they may have affectec' him, by Avhich your separation has been 
 produced — an event of which I am totally unable at present to 
 form any propi^i' opinion." 
 
 In the course of the same afternoon, the dowager wrote to the 
 earl, believing he was still in London ; and while engaged with 
 her letter, the countess went to her own room, where Flounce 
 was notably employed in distributing her lady's wardrobe from 
 the trunks. The box which belonged to the mother of the 
 oi'phan was standing on the floor; and Flounce, two or three 
 times, before she excited any attention towards it, expressed her 
 wonder about what it could contain. At last, however, she was 
 successful; — the eyes of the countess were directed towards aie 
 package; and her mind becoming disengaged from the passion 
 of her own thoughts, her curiosity was awakened. 
 
 "I think, Floimce," said her ladyship, "we should examine 
 that box, and take an inventory of what it contains for the poor 
 infai.t. The contents cannot be valuable; but they may be 
 such as to help the orphan at some future day to discover her 
 relations." 
 
 "I dare say they will," replied Flounce; "and I have my own 
 reasons for thinking she will be found to havcj come of very 
 great people in foreign parts. Does not your ladyship recollect 
 what delightful ear-rings were in her mother's cars?" 
 
 After some discussion respecting the means of satisfying this, 
 as to whether a hammer was requisite, or the poke- might serve, 
 it was agreed that the assistance of the latter potentate should 
 be first summoned, and, if unsuccessful, the hammer might then 
 be invited to take a part in the business. The poker, however, 
 proved, in the strenuous hands of Flounce, abundantly effective 
 8. K 
 

 * ■'-»■' 
 
 » f 
 
 |;*i 
 
 lk!»ai 
 
 
 146 
 
 SIB A5DREW WTTLIE. 
 
 — the lid of the box was wrenched open, and the contents 
 exposed to view. 
 
 The first sight presented nothing remarkable. It consisted 
 of different articles of female finery, neither of a very high, nor, 
 as Flounce truly observed, of a very prime and fashionable 
 quality; but, on exploring the mine, a small casket was found; 
 it was seized by her ladyship, and opened in haste, while Flounce 
 stood the figure of wonder by her side. The contents, however, 
 were not of any particular value; but among them was the 
 miniature of a gentleman, which the countess recognized as that 
 of Mr Ferrers. A letter was also found from Ferrers, written 
 in such imperfect Italian as men of fashion are ia the practice 
 of addressing to the virgin train of the opera and ballet. It was 
 not, however, either of a very amorous or amiable kind, for it 
 seemed to be the dismissal from his protection of the unfortunate 
 mother. 
 
 The first movement which the perusal produced in the spirit 
 of the countess, was not of the most philanthropic kind ; as" for 
 Hounce, she loudly and vehemently protested against all the 
 male "sect," as she called them, for a pack of infidel wretches. 
 
 After various disquisitions on this discovery, it was agreed 
 that, under existing circumstances, it would be as well, for the 
 present, to say nothinfr in the house about it; but that Flounce 
 should return to the Rose and Crown, and explain to the land- 
 lady, in confidence, the relationship of the child, and urge her 
 to take the necessary means to acquaint the fatner of Monimia's 
 sfituation. 
 
 This was a charming mission, and exactly suited to the genius 
 of Flounce, who accordingly went off next day by the London 
 coach, which passed the gate of Elderbower ; and that the ser- 
 vants might not be wondering and guessing as to the objects of 
 her journey, she prudently deemed it expedient to inform them 
 that she was going to town to bring some additions to her lady's 
 wardrobe. 
 
 The landlady of the Rose and Crown received her with great 
 cordiality ; but when, after many solemn injunctions, Flounce 
 disclosed the object of her visit, Mrs Vintage coolly taid, she 
 would neither make nor meddle in the matter; for it was 
 
CHAPTER XXXI, — A SECRET EXPEDITION, 
 
 147 
 
 1 the contents 
 
 rumoured that Mr Ferrers had gambled away his whole estate, 
 and that Castle Rooksborough was expected to be sold imme- 
 diately. Flounce was not quite content with the conduct of the 
 landlady, and returned by the coach the same evening, some- 
 wliat in a huffy humour, greatly to the surprise of all the house- 
 hold at Elderbower, who, being in the practice of calculating 
 the distance, discovered that she could not possibly have been at 
 London. 
 
 Flounce, however, was not to be confounded, as she told her 
 lady, by any suspectifying persons ; and on the first expression 
 of John Luncheon's surprise when he saw her alight, she 
 informed him, that having forgotten something very particular, 
 she was obliged to return ; but there was a mystery and if tlurry 
 in her appearance that John did not much like, as he did not, 
 indeed, much like herself; and he made his remarks on her 
 accordingly to his fellow-servants in the hall, the efiFect of which 
 had no tendency to exalt their opinion either of mistress or of 
 maid. 
 
 The whole affair, however, might have soon passed off, and a 
 plausible excuse been devised for not sending Flounce again to 
 town ; but the wonder was considerably augmented by another 
 equally unaccountable excursion which she made the same 
 evening. 
 
 In a laudatory account to her lady of the infant — for she had 
 summoned the nurse and Monimia to the Rose and Crown — 
 she deplored the meanness of its attire, declaring that it was 
 dressed in old troUoping things, which had belonged to Mrs 
 Peony's brat ; adding, that she had seen in a shop-window in 
 Elderton the most beautiful baby-linen, advising her lady to 
 purchase a supply for the poor dear little creature, just in charity, 
 although it was not a legitimate. The countess consented to 
 this, and gave the requisite money. 
 
 Flounce was not one of those foolish virgins who slumber and 
 rfcop in their tasks ; on <h(^ onntrary, she cniM never rest till 
 her work was done, especially if it was a business seasoned with 
 any species of adventure, or of mystery. Within less than two 
 hours after her return, she contrived to slip out alone, and to 
 purchase the articles she wanted. These she directed herself 
 
148 
 
 SIE ANDBEW WYLIE. 
 
 *i • 
 
 f if 
 
 for Mrs Peony ; to whom she also wrote on the subject in the 
 shop where she had bought them, and carried the parcel in her 
 own hands to the London coach-office at the Nag's Head, and 
 saw them booked with her own eyes, aU in the most commend- 
 able spirit of faithful agency. 
 
 The purchase of fine baby-clothes in a small market-town, 
 especially by a lady's maid, is an event of some consequence J 
 and the expedition of Flounce caused a good deal of conversa- 
 tion; insomuch, that the landlady at the Nag's Head, where 
 John Luncheon and the coachman were in the practice of nightly 
 taking their pipe and potation, heard of it next day ; and men- 
 tioning the subject to her husband, he recollected the circum- 
 stance of Flounce bringing a parcel for the coach, and being 
 very particular in seeing it booked. By this means the affair 
 reached the ears of John Luncheon, who, having no remarkable 
 esteem for Flounce, whom he described as a pert London hussey, 
 .urmised something not much to the credit of her virgin purity,' 
 and communicated his suspicions to Betty Blabbingwell, one 
 of the maids, who rehearsed it, with some circumstantial and 
 descnpcive details additional, to Mrs Polisher, the housekeeper. 
 Mrs Polisher, however, was not convinced of the truth of the 
 report, but went herself to the shop where the purchase was 
 made, where she not only ascertained the whole circumstances 
 of the fact, but also that the articles purchased were of the very 
 finest description, altogether unlikely, indeed, for any chamber- 
 maid's accidental progeny. But Mrs Polisher was a prudent 
 woman, and she said nothing. She, however, made her own 
 reflections, and drew an inference that riveted her antipathy 
 against the countess— an antipathy which had its origin in the 
 great affection which she bore her young master from the first 
 hour that she dandled him in her arms when a baby. But she 
 did not disclose her suspicions to the dowager, being determined 
 to find out the whole affair before unnecessarily occasioning a 
 rupture, which she anticipated would soon be eonvplrtc and 
 final. 
 
 In this manner the seeds of distrust were carried into that 
 asylum, where Lady Sandyford had hoped to prepare herself for 
 appearing with renewed advantage in the eyes of her lord. 
 
the subject in the 
 the parcel in her 
 Nag's Head, and 
 
 e most commend- 
 
 lall market-town, 
 )me consequence; 
 deal of conversa- 
 ig's Head, where 
 )ractice of nightly 
 :t day ; and men- 
 cted the circura- 
 coach, and being 
 means the aflPair 
 ig no remarkable 
 't London hussey, 
 her virgin purity, 
 ilabbingwell, one 
 rcumstantial and 
 the housekeeper, 
 the truth of the 
 le purchase was 
 le circumstances 
 were of the very 
 or any chamber- 
 • was a prudent 
 , made her own 
 d her antipathy 
 its origin in the 
 r from the first 
 baby. But she 
 eing determined 
 y occasioning a 
 s eoinplrie and 
 
 irried into that 
 5pare herself for 
 cs of her lord. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. — A MTStERT. 
 
 149 
 
 Perhaps she erred in concealing the discovery which she had 
 made of Ferrers' child, and the protection which she had be- 
 stowed on the orphan ; nor is it easy to explain the feeling which 
 influenced her; but a vague notion had occasionally floated 
 across her mind, that the paragraph which involved her in so 
 much trouble referred to his marked attentions ; and it operated 
 with the effect of a motive in restraining her from ever alluding 
 to him in her conversations with the dowasrer. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 A MYSTERT. 
 
 ALTHOUGH the earl had got his manuscript prepared for the 
 press, as we have described, the publication was delayed by the 
 occurrence of a disagreeable incident. One morning, on read- 
 ing the county newspaper, he happened to observe the adver- 
 tisement of a sale by auction of the furniture of Castle Rooks- 
 borough ; and, among other things enumerated, was a quantity 
 of china, said to have been the same which was used by James 
 I. at his accession to the English crown. In the changes of his 
 furniture, his lordship wanted some additional old china to com- 
 plete an effect in one of the state-apartments; and having 
 nothing very particular at the time to engage his attention, he 
 determined to attend the sale of Ferrers' effects- 
 Castle Rooksborough was, as we have already mentioned, 
 situated near the Rose and Crown, about thirty miles from 
 Chastington Hall. It was therefore, on account of the distance, 
 in some degree necessary that his lordship should remain there 
 ml night ; and being desirous that his mother sliould not licur of 
 his being so near her neighbourhood — for Elderbower was but 
 one stage off"— he resolved to go alone to the sale, that he might 
 not be known by his servants. 
 It was late in the evening when he reached the Rose and 
 
 7*ir| 
 
 " a _ 
 
150 
 
 SIR ANDREW WTLIE. 
 
 Crown, and nothing particular occurred that night. Next 
 morning, before the sale, he walked in the park of Castle 
 Rooksborough; and allliuugh the air was clear and bracing, and 
 the spring sat in every bower, crowned with her gayest gar- 
 lands, there was something in the scene and circumstances 
 which did not altogether tend to exhilarate his sj.irits. The 
 estate was dilapidated by a spendthrift possessor, and ordered to 
 be sold, with all the moveables, by his creditors. It had been 
 for ages in the possession of the prodigal's ancestors; and a gen- 
 eral murmur prevailed throughout the county against the un- 
 happy man's indiscretions. The reflections which these things 
 produced sank into the heart of Lord Sandyford, and placed his 
 own conduct in a mortifying light before him. 
 
 As he was straying over the grounds, he fell in Trith a young 
 country girl carrying a child. The brilliant dark Italian eyes 
 cf the infant attracted his attention; and the style in which 
 it was dressed, so much above the appearance of the nurse, in- 
 duced him to stop and speak to her. The beauty of the infant 
 won upon his affections, and his curiosity was excited to learn 
 how a child, apparently better born, came to be entrusted to so 
 young, and seemingly so improper a nurse. The girl, however, 
 could give him no satisfaction. All that she knew respecting 
 it was, that she had been hired by the landlady of the Rose and 
 Crown to take care of it while it remained with Mrs Peony, 
 who was employed by a grand lady to suckle it. 
 
 There appeared to the earl some mystery in this; and when 
 he had purchased the lot of china, which he ordered to be sent 
 to Chastington Hall, he returned to the inn to hold some con- 
 versation with the landlady on the subject of Moniraia, for the 
 child was that orphan. 
 
 Mrs Vintage of the Rose and Crown did not prove quite 
 so communicative as he expected. She only civilly answered 
 his questions, and said no more than what a direct response 
 required. 
 
 " Do you know the parents of the child !" said his lordship. 
 "They must be persons of some condition, I should think, by the 
 dress of the infant." 
 
 "As to that I cannot say; I have never seen either of them 
 
night. Next 
 irk of Castle 
 I bracing, and 
 r gayest gar- 
 Bircunnstances 
 spirits. The 
 ind ordered to 
 It had been 
 s; and a gen- 
 ainst the un- 
 i these things 
 nd placed his 
 
 TT'th a young 
 i Italian eyes 
 yle in which 
 he nurse, in- 
 of the infant 
 lited to learn 
 itrusted to so 
 jirl, however, 
 w respecting 
 the Rose and 
 Mrs Peony, 
 
 :s ; and when 
 d to be sent 
 d some con- 
 imia, for the 
 
 prove quite 
 ily answered 
 ect response 
 
 his lordship, 
 think, by the 
 
 ler of them 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. — A MTSTERT. 
 
 151 
 
 The mother is dead ; and as for the father, I can give you no 
 
 account of him." 
 
 "Then who in this neighbourhood pays the nurse?" 
 " I do," replied Mrs Vintage. 
 
 "And how are you repaid?" said the inquisitive peer. 
 "I do not think I am bound to answer that quest' 'B to a 
 stranger," replied the prudent landlady of the Rose and Crown. 
 His lordship, finding that she was resolved not to satisfy his 
 curiosity in a direct manner, and her guarded answers having 
 only served to whet his inquisitiveness, he took another, and a 
 more ingenious course with her. He affected to let the topic 
 drop, and began to question her about the neighbourhood, and 
 the travellers of rank who had recently stopped at the house— a 
 subject on which she delighted to expatiate. Among others, 
 she mentioned the transit of the unfortunate Lady Sandyford in 
 her father's carriage ; in speaking of whom there was a degree 
 of embarrassment in her manner that strongly excited his at- 
 tention. 
 
 The sharpness of the earl's interrogatories increased her con- 
 fusion ; and she contrived, in order to avoid the keenness of his 
 questioning, to leave the room, just at the moment when she had 
 led him to suspect that there was some mystery connected with 
 the countess and the child. 
 
 The agitation into which he was thrown by this conversation 
 is not to be described. He almost instantly ordered a post-chaise, 
 and returned to Chastington Hall, burning with thoughts of 
 suspicion. At the first stage where he changed, he met Servinal, 
 his valet, returning from London, where he had been sent on 
 some business; he had come back with the coach on which 
 Flounce had travelled from Elderbower on her mission to Castle 
 Rooksborough, and he heard of that damsel's secret expedition- 
 she herself having told the coachman that she was Lady Sandy- 
 ford's maid. 
 
 On seeinsr his master alight, and not being aware of the state 
 of his feelings, Servinal informed his lordship of that circum- 
 stance, wondering what business could have taken Flounce to 
 the Rose and Crown. This was confirmation to all his lordship's 
 jealousy ; and when he resumed his chair at night in the library 
 

 1S2 
 
 Sia ANDREW WTLEE. 
 
 I^>! 
 
 
 i.** 
 
 « 
 
 ■ } ?.-. 
 
 J, 
 
 
 Vj 
 
 U 
 
 iirsl.1 
 
 of Chastington, his very soul was boiling with indignation against 
 the insolence, as he now deemed it, of the message which Sir 
 Charles Runnington had brought from the marquis. But sud- 
 denly, in the fury of his passion, the remembrance of the part he 
 had himself performed as a husband, came Uke a blast from the 
 frozen ocean, and chilled his blood. 
 
 The temper of his feelings changed. T'le countess, in the 
 youth and bloom of her bridal charms, rose in the freshness of 
 his early fondness, and moved him to sorrow and remorse. .\11 
 other feelings were absorbed in contrition, and he wept with the 
 profuse tears of lamenting childhood. 
 
 In an instant, however, the paroxysm took another turn, and 
 he reflected on the sincerity with which he had loved, and how 
 coldly his ardour had been met; how negligently his tastes and 
 his predilections were regarded ; and giving way again to the 
 impulse of these reflections, he accused the countess as the most 
 insensible of women— the most artful, perfidious, and base— and, 
 starting from his seat, rushed across the room, with desperation 
 in his looks, and his hands fiercely clenched and upraised. In 
 that moment the door opened, and his mother eistered. 
 
 His surprise was inexpressible at her appei, ance, and still 
 more, when, in pressing him to her bosom, and weeping on his 
 neck, she said, "Alas! my unhappy boy, I did not expeci. to find 
 you in this condition." 
 
 The venerable matron, unable to repress her maternal feel- 
 ings, when, by accident, she heard that he had retired from 
 London to Chastington Hall, determined to visit him. Nor did 
 the countess oppose this natural solicitude. 
 
 WTien the first reciprocity of affection was over, the dowager 
 took a seat beside her son, and calmly remonstrated against the 
 seclusion in which he had too suddenly shut himself up ; express- 
 ing her hope that the breach between him and his wife was not 
 irreparable. 
 
 "What!" he exclaimed, "can you think me able to submit to 
 the degradation of respecting a flagrant adulteress ? I have such 
 proof. I have seen with my own eyes the living evidence of her 
 guUt. Oh, let us speak of her no more, let her perish in the 
 unproclaimed infamy to which she has sunk!" 
 
CHAPTER XXXII. — A MYSTERY. 
 
 153 
 
 The dowager was thunderstruck, and remained looking at 
 him, and unable to speak. But when his agitation had in some 
 degree subsided, she recovered her self-possession, and enquired 
 to what circumstances and proofs of P'^'^H he had alluded. Thia 
 led to an account of liis excursion, v.ad to V •■ supposed discovery 
 he had made of Monimia. 
 
 The old lady could not credit tlu story, ■■.'. ad expressed her 
 suspicion of some mistake on his i, Tt, wbi.iii had the effect of 
 reviving all his indignant feelings. 
 
 " Mother ! " he exclaimed, " you do not know the worn in — her 
 whole soul is engaged with nothing but herself — she could never 
 see attention shown to any other, without considering it as some- 
 thing unjustly taken from herself— she never felt that her inte- 
 rests and affections were wedded to mine, but regarded them as 
 distinct and pre-eminent — she worshipped no other god but 
 herself— she made me feel, from the fatal day of our marriage, 
 that there was nothing mutual between us, that I was only sub- 
 sidiary to her. The sense of that discovery drove me to despair 
 — a despair that wore the mask of pleasure to the world, while 
 worse than ten thousand scorpions was stinging me at the heart. 
 In all that wild and wicked interval, she calmly set herself out 
 for adulation ; never once did she look as if she felt any appre- 
 hension for the issue of a career that she could not but see ra st 
 terminate in ruin — even in those hours of remorse and ennui, 
 when one gentle wish from her might have recalled me to myself, 
 did ever any such pass the cold marble of her lips ?" 
 
 " This will not do, George," interposed the dowager, with an 
 accent of entreaty and moderati')n. "This vehemence of feeling 
 is not what the object deserves, if she is so unworthy as you 
 have represented her. But calm yourself; it is possible there 
 may be some misunderstanding or misconjecture in all that yju 
 have told me." 
 
 " There is neither conjecture nor misunderstanding in what I 
 have felt," replied the earl ; but let us drop the subject. I am 
 glad to see you at Chastington, and I will show you, to-morrow, 
 the improvements I am making." 
 
 In this abrupt way his lordship changed the conversation, 
 and, in the course of a few minutes, was almost as cheerful with 
 
If 
 
 I 
 
 154 
 
 
 SIR ANDREW WYLIS. 
 
 
 
 ■Hi: 
 
 his mother as if he had never given her any reason to deplore 
 his folly, nor had any to do so himself. But determined in his 
 own mind to sift the matter thoroughly, since it was possible 
 thero might be some mistake, he wrote the same evening to Mr 
 Vellum, requesting Wylie to be sent to assist him in the arrange- 
 ment of some domestic concerns. He said nothing of the busi- 
 ness for which he wished this assistance; but allowed the soli- 
 citor to imagine that it might be with reference to the papers 
 and suggestions, which the earl, a few posts before, had received 
 relative to the state of his income and debts. 
 
 The situation of the dowager was most embarrassing. When 
 she parted from the countess, she had promised to return on the 
 third day, or to write. But with the disagreeable news she had 
 received, neither could properly be done. At the same time, 
 however, such had been the favourable light in which her 
 daughter-in-law appeared, from the moment of her arrival at 
 Elderbower, that she would not allow herself to entertain any 
 thought derogatory from her honour. She expected that the 
 earl would have set cut the next day to Castle Rooksborough 
 again, to examine the mystery there more leisurely; but he 
 evinced no disposition to do so. He merely said, after break- 
 fast, that he had written to London for a young gentleman, 
 whom he thought might be useful in helping him to investigate 
 the mystery of the child of the Rose and Crown; "For," said 
 he gaily, " until we d! cover its parentage, we can assign it no 
 better sire and dam." 
 
 But if the arrival of his mother disturbed the monotony of 
 the earl's retirement, it was an event of delightful importance 
 to the domestics at Chastington Hall. Mrs Valence exulted in 
 tlie opportunity which it afforded to her of displaying, before so 
 thorough a judge as her ladyship, with what care, and in what 
 perfect beauty she had preserved every article which had been 
 co; knitted to her charge; nor was there a servant in the house 
 who had not some voueher to produce of fidelity and vigilancu. 
 All receivf 1 their due meed of dignified commendation, and a^' 
 of them rt_ .cod in the greatness of that reward. 
 
 Her arrival ^ as also productive of other cheerful conse- 
 quences to the household. The shyness with which the earl 
 
 
 
CHAPTER XXXII. — A MTSTEBT. 
 
 155 
 
 son to deplore 
 srmined in hb 
 t was possible 
 evening to Mr 
 in the arrange- 
 ag of the busi- 
 owed the soli- 
 to the papers 
 e, had received 
 
 issing. When 
 ) return on the 
 3 news she had 
 he same time, 
 in which her 
 her arrival at 
 I entertain any 
 ectod that the 
 Rooksborough 
 urely; but he 
 
 d, after break- 
 ng gentleman, 
 1 to investigate 
 i; "For," said 
 m assign it no 
 
 3 monotony of 
 ful importance 
 !nce exulted in 
 ying, before so 
 
 e, and in what 
 hich had been 
 it in the house 
 uiul vigiluncc. 
 Nation, and a?' 
 
 leerful conse- 
 t^hich the carl 
 
 received the visits of the neighbouring gentlemen, had, in a 
 great measure, suspended the intercourse that might otherwise 
 have arisen; but the elderly matrons in their families, who had 
 been acquainted with the dowager in the time of her lord, on 
 hearing that she had arrived at Chastington, came flocking in 
 crowds to see her; so that, for a day or two, there was something 
 like a stir about the house. 
 
 The presence of a Lady Sandyford at the hall, was, indeed, 
 like the spring; it drew out from their winter seats, as gay as 
 tulips from their bulbs, all the ladies in the vicinity; and many 
 a sable son of the church ivas seen slowly moving towards the 
 portal, as sleek and as plump as the snails, that the genial influ- 
 ence of the season had induced to come abroad. Among other 
 visiters, the dowager was pleased to discover, in a little smart 
 old man, in black satin inexpressibles, with sky-blue silk stock- 
 ings, golden buckles, a white waistcoat, and a green coat, with 
 his smirking face dapperly set in a trim white tie-wig, Dr Tre- 
 foil, whom she had herself been chiefly instrumental in bringing 
 into notice when a young man; not, however, so much on 
 account of his professional abilities, as for a certain dainty and 
 pleasing method of treating those little irksomenesses of the sex, 
 that are often as afflicting to themselves and their friends as 
 more serious diseases. The doctor, in his youth, had been a 
 beau; indeed, his appearance bore incontestible proofs of that 
 historical fact; but, notwithstanding all the pretty little compli- 
 ments which he was daily in the practice of paying the ladies, 
 he still remained a bachelor— and was now determined to die, 
 as he said, a martyr to his humanity. For it seems the doctor 
 had, like many other sage and learned personages, become a 
 convert to the Malthusian heresy, then recently promulgated, 
 and was alarmed at the hazard we run of being elbowed out of 
 the worid, in spite of the faculty, war, pestilence, famine, and 
 sudden death. 
 
 Scarcely hud her old acquaintance offered his congratuhitions 
 at seeing her ladyship look so well, when, recollecting his deli- 
 cacy and address, it immediately occurred to her that ho might 
 he a fit person to employ as an agent, in sifting the mystery con- 
 nected with the birth of tho child. But it is necessary that we 
 
M6 
 
 SIR ANDBEW WYLlE. 
 
 should revert to the state and situation of the young countess, 
 who, in the mean time, was left as dull as any lady of fashion 
 could well be, that had actually happened to suffer the enamel 
 of her reputation to be damaged. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIir. 
 
 "5 •; ff,. 
 
 
 f,n 
 
 
 A DIS^30VERY, 
 
 When the countess heard that the earl had, suddenly after her 
 departure from London, ±,^ quittet. the town and retired to 
 Chastington Hall, her mind was seized with an unaccountable 
 anxiety and apprehension. She ascribed the cause at first, 
 naturally enough, to his wish to avoid their mutual friends until 
 the separation had blown over; but when her father wrote that 
 their house had bton taken possession of by Mr Vellum, and that 
 tlie establishment was broken up, she felt that a change indeed 
 had taken place, as much beyond her control as it was above her 
 comprehension. That Lord Sandyford should disentangle him- 
 Bclf at once, and as it were by force, from all his town connexions, 
 seemed to her a prodigy of which she could form no just estimate. 
 She sometimes thought it was but the temporary resolution of a 
 fit of sj): n; but siie remembered, with a feeling to which she 
 could assign no name, that he had often manifested a decision 
 and firmness that belied that carelessness which she had consi- 
 dered as the strongest peculiarity of his character. The event 
 interested her curiosity as well as affected her sensibility ; and 
 she was glad when the dowager proposed to visit him at Chas- 
 tington. 
 
 Nothing, however, could excoed her chagrin, when, instead of 
 _ie return n. fhc old lady on the thir-d day, according to her 
 promise,^ sho received a note, simply stating that it was the 
 dowager's intention to remain some time at the hall, and without 
 containing a single word on any other subject. This was even 
 still more mysterious tliau the sudden alteration in the conduct 
 
N.L -' 
 
 CHAPTER XXXnr. — A DISCOVERY. 
 
 157 
 
 'oung countess, 
 lady of fashion 
 flfer the enamel 
 
 Idenly after her 
 and retired to 
 
 unaccountable 
 cause at first, 
 al friends until 
 :hcr wrote that 
 ellum, and that 
 change indeed 
 
 was above her 
 sentangle him- 
 ivn connexions, 
 just estimate, 
 resolution of a 
 J to which she 
 ted a decision 
 she had consi- 
 ir. The event 
 insibility; and 
 
 him at Chas- 
 
 lien, instead of 
 ;ording to her 
 at it was the 
 ,1, and without 
 rhis was even 
 n the conduct 
 
 
 of the earl, while it seemed to spring from the same cause. It 
 grieved and it vexed her, and affected her best thoughts and 
 calmest moments with inquietude and despoi cncy. She felt 
 sometimes as if she had been abandoned to solitude and suffer- 
 ing ; and though conscious that she had committed no crime to 
 entail so bitter a punishment, she confessed to herself that she 
 had been perhaps too late in considering that the preservation 
 of a husband's love is often the most diflBcult, as it is always the 
 most delicate duty of a wife. 
 
 When the dowager had been absent four days, a servant came 
 from the hall to make some addition to her wardrobe ; and from 
 him his unfortunate mistress heard that it was doubtful when 
 she would return. She also learned that the earl had been 
 informed by his mother that she was at Elderbower. All this 
 was incomprehensible, and turned her pillow into thorns. 
 Flounce, who saw her anxiety, and gpopscd something of her 
 thoughts, exerted her utmost powers of talk and tattle to amuse 
 her, without effect ; at 'ast she proposed they shou\(] make an 
 excursion to see the orphan, " It is such a beauty," said Flounce 
 •-" has the most charming eyes — it will do your poor heart good 
 to see the pretty dear. Eesides, it is but twelv^ miles oft'— we 
 can go there in the morning, and whisk back to dinner with all 
 the case in the world." 
 
 The countess was not in a disposition to controvert the exhor- 
 tation of Flounce ; and accordingly a post-chaiso was ordered, 
 and the lady, attended on:/ by her waiting-gentlewoman, i.et off 
 to visit the child of the Rose and Crown. 
 
 The sale at the castle had lasted several days, but it was all 
 over before thcj arrived, and the mansion shut up. 
 
 After amusing herself for a few minutes with the infant 
 Monimia, whoso beauty certainly did not appear to have been 
 exaggerated by Flounce, the countess strayed into the Castle- 
 park alone, leaving Flounce to gossip with Mrs Peony. The 
 -j__. ...!,.,!,,„, _..,.ij. ,,[,^- j,.j jjit- BCaaun, ana tiic spring was m 
 full verdure ; but there was a solenmity in the woods, all marked 
 for the axe of the feller, and a silence in the venerable mansion, 
 every window being closed— that touched the heart of the soli- 
 tary with inexpressible sadness. She walked round the walls, 
 
158 
 
 SIB ANDREW WTLIE. 
 
 ir 
 
 i + 
 
 and looked for some time at a number of swallows, which, as if 
 inform 'd that the house would be long untenanted, had that 
 morning begun to build their nests in several of the window 
 comers. 
 
 As she was indulging the train of reflections which this little 
 incident awakened, she sasv a gentleman pass hurriedly across 
 tlie lawn, and enter a small gate in the garden-wall, which she 
 had not before noticed. His figure was familiar to her; but the 
 rapidity of his pace, and the intervention of the boughs of the 
 shrubbery prevented her from seeing him distinctly. 
 
 There was something in his air and haste which startled her; 
 and a sentiment more deserving the name of interest thaj curi- 
 osity, led her to follow him to the gate which he had left open. 
 On looking in she was surprised at the beauty of the garden, 
 but her eye speedily searched around for the stranger; — he was, 
 however, nowhere to be seen. 
 
 As she was standing with the door in her hand, she observed 
 a puflF of smoke rise from behind the corner of a conservatory; 
 and immediately after, the stranger rush from the same place, 
 with a pistol in his hand. His appearance left her In no doubt 
 that he meditated a desperate deed against himself; and prompted 
 by the irresistible impulse of the moment, she darted forward 
 and snatched the weapon from his hand. In the same instant 
 she recognised in him Mr Ferrers, the unfortunate owner of the 
 castle. He also knew her, and exclaimed, "Gracious Heaven! 
 — Lady Sandyford here ! " 
 
 A brief conversation followed. He declared himself utterly 
 ruined — all his friends had deserted him, and he had none left 
 but death — no home but the grave. Her ladyship was exces- 
 sively shocked ; she trembled fi im head to foot ; and still holdin;? 
 the pistol, implored him to desist from his dreadful intent, 
 
 "Alas, madam!" cried the frantic man, "you may as well tell 
 him who is expiring of a fever, not to die. Despair is my dis- 
 ease ; and I am as much its victim as tlie lazar that perishes of 
 malady in an hospital. I have stooped to beggary — I have 
 strarcely refrained from crime; but all has been of no avail. A 
 curse is upon me, and misery in my blood. It is inhuman, lady, 
 to break tin s upon the secret horrors of a dying wretch. Leave 
 
CIIAPTBE XXSIII. — A DISCOVERT. 
 
 159 
 
 me~0 leave me, Lady Sandyford, to my fate!"— And he made 
 an effort to seize the pistol again; but she had the presence of 
 mind, though agitated beyond the power of speaking, to plunge 
 it into a pond, where the gardeners filled their watering-pans 
 
 Ferrers, on seeing this action, started back, and said in a 
 voice that was seemingly calm, but awfully emphatic, " I have 
 ceard or read, that, sometimes in those black moments when all 
 chance of help deserts the hope and reason of man, Providence 
 is pleased to manifest its power and watchfulness. Has it sent 
 you to save me from perdition?" And in saying these words, 
 he knelt and kissed her hand with the reverence and awe of 
 adoration. 
 
 In this cr'^'fl, the dowager Lady Sandyford, leaning on the 
 arm of Dr Tre; "1, entered the garden ; but, on seeing this scene, 
 immediately withdrew. The old lady recognised her daughter- 
 in-law, and, without uttering a word, hurried back to her car- 
 riage, which stood at the entrance to the park. The doctor, 
 who was unacquainted with the countess, made several attempts, 
 OS they hastened back, to break the consternation of the dowager, 
 by joking on their mal-intrusion ; but she fearfully silenced him 
 by wildly shaking her head. 
 
 On reachir:; the carriage, he handed her in, and then took a 
 seat beside her. 
 
 "Where shall we drive?" said the servant, as he shut the 
 door. 
 
 " Home, home, home, to Chastington." 
 
 The countess, unconscious of the evil construction that was 
 perhaps naturally enough put upon the situaf'/in in which she 
 had been discovered, retreated from the impassioned gratitude of 
 Ferrers, and hastened back to the Hose and Crown, where she 
 learned, with extreme vexation, that the Dowager Lady Sandy- 
 ford had been there with a gentleman anxiously enquiring for 
 the orphan. 
 
 " I do believe," said the landlady, as she communioatrd Ma 
 news, "they have come from Chastington on purpose, and I 
 dare say they will be back presently; for the nurse, with your 
 maid, is walking in Rooksborough Park with the child, where 
 they have gone to seek her. I happened to be out of the way 
 
SIB AXPREM WVLIE. 
 
 when her ladyship airived, uikI she asked, I am told, verv 
 earnestly to see mo." 
 
 While they were speaking, th(! nii:>e, wl:h Flounce r.nd 
 Moniaiia, were seen coiuing quickly towards ihe inn. Flounce 
 had recognized the carriage and livery from a distance, anu was 
 httnlaiing to ascertain the cause of so unexpected a photomenon, 
 ^iion siie suw it d.-ive suddenly away. 
 
 lie f-ianta of the countess were exhausted by the painful trial 
 to ^hv;*h her feelings had been subjected ; a presentiment of mis- 
 fort'i.ic oppressed her heart ; and during the greatest part of the 
 journey back to Elderbower, she seldom exchanged words with 
 Flounce. They were indeed half way before uny thing occurred 
 to move her from the melancholy abstraction into which she 
 had fallen. It happened, however, that on reaching the cross- 
 roads, where the branch that led past Chastiiuvton diverges, 
 they met the London coach, on the outside of which, covered 
 with dust, sat our hero, on his way to the hall. 
 
 "As I live," exclaimed Flounce, "if there be not that Dutch 
 nut-cracker, the Scotch creature, flying away on the top of the 
 coach. Where can he be going to wink and twinkle, and snap 
 his fingers, till he makes the sides ache again ?" 
 
 " I wish," said the countess, " I had stopped him ;" and she 
 added, with a sigh, "Can he be on his way to Chastington ? " 
 She then relapsed into her melancholy reflections, thinking it 
 probable the earl was entertaining company, and had invited 
 Andrew to amuse them. " In what," thought she to herself, 
 " is this singular solitariness of mine, to end Y Can it be pos- 
 sible that some one has poisoned the ear of Sandyford, and that 
 he has converted his mother to believe the suspicion? That 
 vile paragraph he seemed to think true. Has f:he author of 
 the malignant invention had access to him? ' n Sandyford 
 condemn me without a hearing, without pre, .^ .. hout inves- 
 tigation^ \o matter, I will droop ' he- 
 whateve. • have been my faults hithr 
 lessness Wiiu which I have been so often . 
 — I may yet die of a broken heart. I feeJ 
 
 While these painful reflexions were vibraai,j> 
 carriage arrived at Elderbower. On alight 
 
 ill secret; and 
 all that heart- 
 ntyd, perhaps justly 
 " can." 
 
 ■ ■■ i'.OT mind, the 
 . , she walked 
 
CHAPTER XXXIII. — A DISCOVERT. 
 
 161 
 
 t am told, verv 
 
 h Flounce nnd 
 ;e jnn. Flo;!n',-,e 
 istan!'^, anu ^vtij 
 i a phctiomenon, 
 
 the painful trial 
 entiment of mis- 
 latest part of the 
 iged words with 
 y thing occurred 
 
 into which she 
 ?hing the cross- 
 iigton diverges, 
 
 which, covered 
 
 not that Dutch 
 n the top of the 
 inkle, and snap 
 
 him ;" and she 
 
 Chastington?" 
 3ns, thinking it 
 md had invited 
 
 she to herself, 
 
 Can it he pos- 
 
 lyford, and that 
 
 spicion ? That 
 
 the author of 
 
 '. . n Sandyford 
 
 %>.' iiout inves- 
 lU secret; and 
 
 all that heart- 
 , perhaps justly 
 
 can." 
 
 hot mind, the 
 gV she walked 
 
 directly to the dowager's parlour, where dinner was immediately 
 served up. She felt herself, however, so much indisposed that, 
 instead of sitting down to table, she retired to her own room, 
 and surrendered herself to the most desponding reflections. Bred 
 up in the preserves of dignified opulence, she had never before 
 seen the anguish of mental distress in any undisguised form, 
 nor could she till then comprehend the horrors which ruin and 
 poverty presented to a mind of such a feverish temperament as 
 that of Ferrers. Her life, till the occurrences arose of which we 
 have been treating, had been one continued series of the most 
 ordinary transactions that befall persons of her rank and condi- 
 tion. She had passed from the fondling embraces of the nursery 
 to the measured and circumspect regulations of her governess, 
 and from these to the incense of public admiration, under the 
 auspices of her accomplished husband. She had never till now 
 come into actual contact with the world, nor been once obliged 
 to draw on those innate resources which she possessed within 
 herself, against its malice, or the vicissitudes of fortune. She 
 had heard of suffering and of sorrow, had wept over aiHI^- 
 tions described in novels, and sighed over sorrows deplored in 
 poetry ; but the real nature of either she had never known ; and 
 what she felt for the distress of the wretched Ferrers was as 
 new in sensation as it was disagreeable. 
 
 While she was thus indulging her feelings, a messenger 
 arrived from Burisland Abbey, her father's seat in that neigh- 
 bourhood, with a letter from the marquis, in which his lordship 
 expressed his regret that she should have exposed herself to the 
 mortification of being abandoned by the Dowager Lady Sandy- 
 ford ; hoped she was in good health ; informed her that his own 
 seat, Bretonsbield Castle, was in readiness to receive her ; advised 
 her to remove thither immediately, and to write him what she 
 wished done ; for that he was obliged tci return to London on 
 public business of the utmost consequenc(!, the second reading of 
 ^\\9. (. !o!int'^ Prison Bill bein"* fixed for tlu* dav followin^i 
 
 The mind and feelings of the countess were so much occupied 
 with her own agitated reflections, that the style and contents of 
 this paternal epistle did not at first make any particular impres- 
 sion, and she x'ead it as Hamlet did the words. She saw the 
 
 3 I. 
 
m 
 
 162 
 
 SIR ANDREW WYLIE. 
 
 forms of the alphabet, the outlines of the page; she knew the 
 hand-writing, and the sense floated before her ; but when she 
 laid the paper on the table the whole was forgotten, and she 
 remained for some time ruminating and abstracted, till a flood 
 of tears came to her relief. 
 
 When the emotion of weeping had subsided, her eye acciden- 
 tally fell on her father's letter, and she immediately took it up, 
 and read it again. The coldness of the language smote her 
 . heart, and she felt as if the barb of an icy arrow had penetrated 
 her bosom, on reading the expression, "Abandoned by the 
 dowager." 
 
 She rung the bell with an eager hand, and ordered the car- 
 riage to be instantly ready for the Abbey. She drove thither in 
 a state little short of distraction; but, on arriving at the gate, 
 was informed that the marquis had three hours before set off 
 for London. She had still his letter in her hand, and her first 
 thought was to proceed immediately to Chastington; but, chan- 
 ging her determination, she unfortunately went on through the 
 park to the Abbey, where she alighted, and requested that one 
 of the servants might immediately i^repare to go to f;it hall for 
 her, on business of the utmost consequence. Having given 
 these orders, she wrote a note to the dowager, inclosing the 
 marquis's letter, and simply requesting an explanation of its 
 contents. 
 
 The groom was in readiness with his horse at the door, almost 
 as soon as this brief note was sealed, and he instantly'set off. 
 He reached the hall while the dowager was dressing for dinner, 
 after her return from the excursion with the doctor, and the 
 note was delivered to her in her own room. She read it hastily, 
 and also that of the marquis, and immediately folding them up 
 in the agitation of the moment, and with a trembling hr.nd, she 
 wrote two lines, simply saying, that the occasion of Lady 
 Sandyford's visit to Castle Rooksborough, and he clandertine 
 interview with Mr Ferrers in the garden therj, would suffi- 
 cieutly explain the reason of her abandonment. 
 
CHAPTEB XXXIV. — OUTSIDE TRAVELLING. 
 
 163 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 OUTSIDE TRAVELLING. 
 
 Neae the great gate that led to Chastington Hall stood a 
 small public-house — the Sandyford Arms ; it was about a quarter 
 of a mile from the village, and had been established chiefly for 
 the accommodation of the servants of visiters, and of the 
 labourers employed in the grounds. At this house the London 
 coaches were in the practice of stopping to deliver letters or 
 parcels, as the case happened to be; but in the opinion of the 
 passengers, to enable the drivers to regale themselves in the 
 morning with a glass of rum and milk, and in the evening with 
 a draught of ale. Here our hero, in due time, after passing the 
 countess, was set down from the top of a coach which left 
 London the preceding day, but so covered with dust that a fel- 
 low passenger of the sister isle declared that if he was a potatoe 
 he might grow without any other planting. 
 
 Andrew, on alighting, procured materials for v.""5hing, and 
 changed his dress; and as Mrs Tapper, the landlady, was an 
 agreeable talkative matron, he bespoke a bed, conditionally 
 however. "I would like vera weel, mistress, to bide wi' you," 
 said he; "and maybe I may do sae, so ye'U hae the considerate- 
 ness to keep a bed, at least till I come back from the hall; but 
 if I shouldna happen to come back before twelve o'clock at 
 night, or sae, ye needna expec me." 
 
 The truth was, that he counted on being invited to take up 
 his abode at the hall; but in case of disappointment, took this 
 method of having another string to his bow. 
 
 When he had equipped himself in the wonted style in which 
 he was in the prcn'i.e of visiting at Sandyford-house in London, 
 he proceeded ur t:' grand avenue to the portal of the mansion. 
 But as he approf ?hed nearer and nearer, and the spacious and 
 richly adorned front, with the numerous gilded spires, pinnacles, 
 and domes dilated in his view, his wonted confidence began to 
 fail, and he exi'3rienced a feeling of diffidence that had never to 
 
SIR ANDREW WYLIE. 
 
 an equal degree aflPected him h^ <• He wondered what could 
 
 be the matter with Irai.eJt, considering liow intimately ac- 
 quamted he was with the earl. lu a word, he felt as abashed 
 and out of sorts, as a young nobleman does in going to court for 
 the first time, although assured of a gracious reception, both 
 from his personal knowledge of the monarch, and acquaintance 
 with the principal attendants. 
 
 When he reached the portal, the gate was open, and the porter 
 was absent, so that he entered in quest of a door to knock at, or a 
 bell to ring ; but before he had advanced many paces, the porter 
 came to him (an old corpulent, and somewhat testy as well as 
 proud, personage) and gru'Jly enquired what he wanted. 
 
 " I am come frae London," replied Andrew, stiU - . ^er th.> 
 repressive influence of the genius of that magnificent mansion 
 " on business wi' my lord." ' 
 
 Peter Baton, the portc , surveyed him from head to foot, and 
 thougiU there was not much of the arrogance of a gentleman in 
 his look or garb ; and his face had the tinge of a rustic exposure 
 to the weather— the effect of his outside travelling. 
 
 "My lord is ou., young man, a-rlding, and it will be some 
 ime before he returns; you nay therefore step into the servants' 
 hall and rst your^'elf. Th re is plenty of good ale for all stran- 
 gers. 
 
 This was said in a more civil tone by Baton, in consequence 
 of the hum- n . ,f Andrew's nnpearance. 
 
 Our hero, however, did not accept of the hospitable recom- 
 mendation, but replied, " I'm ver- much obliged to you • but I'll 
 just dauner about in the nolic; .11 the earl comes in, as my con- 
 cern s wi' hirasel'." •' 
 
 _ At this crisis, hower .is .-dship rode into the court, and 
 instantly recognized :. wii. dl his usual jocularity, which 
 sent honest Peter Baton to his post grumbling, - ndering who 
 the devil that queer chap could be, and concluding in ?ns own 
 m/ud that he must be some apprentice to one of the Jew money- 
 tenders, for whom the woods were so rapidly thinning. 
 
 The moment that Andrew was in the presence of the master, 
 his habitual ease returned; and, in going into the Ubrary with 
 
CHAPTER XXXIV. OUTSIDE TRAVELLING. 
 
 165 
 
 consequence 
 
 the earl ^ave his lordship such a description of his adventures 
 in the journey from town, as effectually cleared, as the earl 
 himself expressed it, the duckweed from his stagnant thoughts. 
 
 " If your lordship," said Andrew, " has never travelled on the 
 tap o' a coach by night, I wouldna advise you to try't ; for 
 although I cannily placed myself '^ ^ween an Irishman and an 
 auld wife, in the hope that the tane would keep me awake by his 
 "lavers, and the other by her clatter, and so save me frae couping 
 aif, a' was naething, even wi' ray own terrors free gratis, to baud 
 me frae nodding as if my head had been an ill sew't on button ; 
 and the warst o' a' was, the deevil o' an Irishman, though he 
 was sitting on the very lip o' the roof, he had nae mercy, but fell 
 asleep as sound as a tap the moment his tongue lay, and was 
 >'very noo and then getting up wi' a great flaught of his arms, 
 uke a goose wi' its wings jumping up a stair, alarming us a' as 
 if h. was in the act o' tumbling down aneath the wheels. And 
 then the carlin, she grippit wi' rae like grim death at every 
 joggle th» oach gied ; so that if, by ony mischance, she had 
 been shou, d aft", whar would I hae been then ? It's really, my 
 lord, an awfu' thing to travel by night on the tap o' a coach." 
 
 " True, Wylie ; but why did not ye take the inside ? " said 
 the earl. 
 
 Andrew did not choose to confess the real saving cause, con- 
 sidering the liberal provision his I rdship had procured for him ; 
 but, evading the question, replied, " It's no every ana, my lord, 
 that can thole the inside o' a coach, especially the foreseat that 
 draws backward." 
 
 "Ay; butwha' prevented you from taking the other ? " cried 
 his lordship, who correctly guessed the true reason of the pre- 
 ference for the outside. 
 
 " Ye may weel say that, my lord ; but I thought the outside 
 would hae been \ t-ra pleasant : and, indeed, naething could be 
 raair sae, as we came trindling- along in the dewy eye o' the 
 mofiiing, suicUing the calicr air frae the 'olithsomc trees and 
 hedges, a' buskit in their new deeding, like lads and lasses dressed 
 for a bridal." 
 
 ■'Poeticrd, by all that's marvellous!" exdaimed the earl at 
 this sally ; " there is no exhausting the inconi[)rehensible treasury 
 
 
(K. 
 
 166 
 
 
 
 l*f-';,J j' 
 
 -il^^ 
 
 5^^* 4 
 
 J 
 
 liil. 
 
 i 
 
 Ik. jf 'i 
 
 
 SIB ANDREW WYLIE. 
 
 of thy accomplishments. Sidney and Crichton were as the 
 million compared to thee." 
 
 Andrew assumed an extremely well-feigned seriousness, and 
 
 replied, "I ken your lordship's joking way; but whatever'may 
 
 happen, I trust and hope I'll ne'er be ony sic thing. Poeticals, 
 
 my lord, are like heather flourishes— a profitless bloom— bred in 
 
 the barren misery o' rocks and moorlan's. Na, na, my lord, I'm 
 
 like the piper's cow, gie me a pickle pea-strae, and sell your 
 
 wind for siller. That's the precept I preach ; and I wadna, 
 
 my lord, after my journey, be the waur o' a bit fodder just noo." 
 
 Lord Sandyford was not altogether deceived by this whimsical 
 
 speech ; but he rang the bell, and ordered in some refreshment. 
 
 "My mother," said he, "is with me at present, and we must 
 
 wait dinner for her. By the way, as she's one of the old school, 
 
 you must be a little on your p and q's." 
 
 "Unless," replied Andrew, "she's greatly out o' the common, 
 I dare say I'll be able to put up wi' her." 
 
 " That I don't doubt ; but perhaps she may not be disposed to 
 put up with you. Ladies of a certain age, you know, will have 
 their own way." 
 
 "Ay, my lord, leddies o' a' ages would fain hae their ain way, 
 pn' we would let them. Howsever, I dare say, the auld countess 
 is nae sic a camstrarie commoditie as may be ye think. If I ance 
 get her to laugh wi' me, I'll maybe gar her do mair— for the 
 young leddy, that was aye as mim as a May puddock to a' the 
 lave o' mankind, made me, ye ken, just a pet." 
 
 The earl's countenance changed ; and rising from the sofa, 
 into which he had carelessly thrown himself, walked several 
 times in silence across the room. Our hero observed his emotion, 
 and sensible of having gone too far to retreat, added, "Gratitude,' 
 my lord, has tied up my fortune wi' your favour, and you maun 
 allow me to speak o' her leddyship as I feel. She's a woman o' 
 a powerfu' capacity, but needs cooking." 
 
 His lordship stopped, and, knitting- his brows, looked sternly 
 on Andrew. 
 
 " I'm no gi'en to gambling, my lord ; but I would," cried our 
 hero, "wager a boddle to a bawb.v, that, although your lordship's 
 aye in the right, my leddy's no far wrang." 
 
 ti.^ ■" 
 
CHAPTER XXXIV. — OUTSIDE TRAVELLING. 
 
 167 
 
 1 were as the 
 
 This upset the earl's austerity completely, and, turning on 
 his heel, he laughingly said, " Then you think me, Wylie, some- 
 what of a pertinacious character — too strict with my wife." 
 
 " Just so, my lord — I think ye were overly strict in taking 
 your ain way, without reflecting how it might affec' her. Nae 
 doubt your lordship was in the right — ye were privileged to do 
 so. But what I would uphold on behalf of the absent leddy, 
 poor woman, is, that she was nae far wrang, since ye did sae, to 
 tak a' wee jookie her ain gait too. My lord, you and her maun 
 gree." 
 
 " Impossible, impossible, Wylie !" exclai^aed the earl, not dis- 
 pleased at the advocacy which our hero se< med disposed to plead 
 in behalf of the countess. And he thrn explained to him the 
 mystery of the child, and that his object in sending for him was, 
 that he might assist in ascertaining the facts and circumstances. 
 Andrew listened with no inconsiderable degree of amazement. 
 He, however, allowed no remark to escape, but thought that 
 there might be some mistake in the statement, or some error 
 in the conception. 
 
 When his lordship concluded — for he spoke with agitation, 
 and with much energy of feeling — our hero said, with unaffected 
 sincerity, " My best services are at the command of your lord- 
 ship. It is my duty to serve you — it is my interest, my lord ; 
 and that is the plainest way I can tak to assure your lordship 
 that I'll do the part of an honest man and a true servant. But, 
 my lord, I'll neither hae colleague nor portioner. Your lord- 
 ship's leddy-mother, and the doctor, who have gone to the inns, 
 may hook a baukie-bird in the air, or a yerd taid on the brae, 
 and think they hae catched a fi?h, and they may catch a right 
 fish too. Ye'll let me, however, my lord, cast my ain tackle in 
 the water, saying naithing to thorn till we compare the upshot." 
 Before the earl could reply, the carriage, with the doctor and 
 the dowager, was heard in the court ; and in little more than 
 a minute after, her ladyship, leaning on his arm, agitated and 
 depressed, entered the library. 
 
 Andrew perceived that they had caught,- as he anticipated, 
 either a baukie-bird or a yerd taid, and brought it home for 
 a fish ; bat he said nothing. The dowager, on observing a 
 
168 
 
 SIR ANDREW WYLIE. 
 
 rm 
 
 
 ' »' I I (1 
 
 I" fl 
 
 L' ' 
 
 lilt Jill. .^ 
 
 !'!t , i 
 
 Stranger in the room, immediately retired, followed by the earl 
 The moment they were gone, and the door shut, our hero sidli 
 
 tThim r^r^^'" f ^™' '^"' ^^^^-* preface sHte 
 
 Dr Trefoil"' .": ?'?'' ^^ ^^* '^ ^'^^^ ^^^^'^ -rand?" 
 iJr Irefoil started aghast, and bending forward, looked as if 
 he examined some reptile of which he was afraid. He then 
 resumed his wonted erect and precise air, saying « May I nre 
 
 ..^"^'''''J^'T ^'"'^ ^"'^^^^ «f ^l^^racter was instinctive 
 saw the self-sufficiency of the doctor, and determined rtle 
 
 T wnl i-' ^'""^*^'"^ there's mickle honour in't ; and what 
 I was asking anent, is the affiur of my lord and my eddy Tha 
 yejiae been thrashing the water and raising bells aboS." 
 
 confounded ""l^ ?•?"' ^""' '"'" '""^ '''' ^'^'^'^ ««™e^hat 
 confounded. "But if you mean what has been the result of 
 
 ™y journey with the countess-dowager to Castle Ro ksroroL 
 
 eltects. Her ladyship and I happened to stroll into the warden 
 where we discovered the unfortunate Lady Augu ta Spa^d^ 
 for^sh^e^an no longer now be called the'countess of Zd^ 
 
 "Hoot, toot, toot, doctor; no sae fat no sap f.«f" ;,,f 
 rupted Andrew. " What did ye see ?" ' '"*''" 
 
 ;; We saw her and Mr Ferrers in a most unpleasant situation." 
 n„-«f!^ T T ' '•'^P"«'l Andrew, "but that I ken yeVe ' 
 
 spicerie of 111 no say what in this. doctor! it would hap 
 been mair to the purpose, had ye been kirning drogrwi h the 
 pis le and mortar in your ain shop, than galLtin| f^a Dan 
 to Beersheba with an auld prickmaleerie dowager, to p ok hots 
 m^the coats o' your neighbours." ^ 
 
 " Sir, your languag j and insinuations are insul^in- " cr-'-'l f hn 
 doctoi', reddening into valour " ' '" "^ ^^^^ 
 
 plZS t^tr;'"r'" '"" something that ye'll maybe no be ill 
 Pleased to iearn. I m no a game-cock. The deadliest weanon 
 that I over handle is a doctor's bottle; so that your Irffing 
 
CHAPTER XXXIV. — OUTSIDE TRAVELLING. 
 
 169 
 
 and bouncing are baith ill-war't on me. Keep your temper, 
 doctor; keep your temper, or ye may lose your appetite for 
 my lord's dinner. Ilowsever, I forgie you for this bit spunlc 
 of your bravery, and I doubt not but we sliall by-and-by be 
 coutliy frien's, though we will differ on twa points — that's cer- 
 tain. I'll ne'er allow that physic hasna an abominable taste ; 
 and some better evidence than your seven senses, my man, maun 
 be forthcoming, before I credit this story o' '.he twa ghosts tliat 
 you and the poor feckless auld leddy saw at Castle Rooks- 
 borough." 
 
 "Gliosts!" cried tlie doctor, utterly amazed at the self-pos- 
 session of his companion. 
 
 "Ay, ghosts, doctor ; and I'm thinking they hae been twa o' 
 your ain patients, they hae gi'en you sic a dreadfu' fear. What 
 did they say to you, and what said ye to them ?" 
 
 " Sii, you very much astonish mt — exceedingly. I know not 
 tliat I ever met with any thing like this. Sir, the countess- 
 dowager knew Laily Sandyford at the first sight, and I could be 
 in no mistake with respect to Mr Ferrers, whom I have known 
 from his childhood." 
 
 " A.' that may be true, Dr Trefoil. I'll no dispute that the 
 couatoss -dowager was able to ken her gude-dochter, and that ye 
 can decipher the ditference between Mr Ferrers and a brumblc- 
 bush. But, doctor, what did ye see? That's the point — a 
 gentleman and a leddy in a garden, picking lilies for a poesy. 
 doctor, doctor ! y.' naun be an ill-deedy body yoursel', or ye 
 wouldna think sae ill o' others. What, noo, was you and the 
 auld leddy after, when ye were linking and slinking sae cagily 
 wi' ane anither in holes and corners ? — 
 
 Davy olins't me through tlio peaso, 
 And In nniang tho chorry-trees.' 
 
 Ah, doctor, doctor, ye deevil ! Vow but ye'r( a Dainty Davy." 
 • Iso maaner in ivhich tliis was said and sung ovcrjiowcrcd 
 the doctor, and, in spite of himself, he was compelled to laugh. 
 In the same moment the bell of the portal summciicd them tc 
 dinii'jr. 
 
-J t 
 
 170 
 
 SIB ANDREW WTLIE. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV 
 
 CONVERSATION. 
 
 
 m r!' J 
 
 
 Andrew and the doctor, on reaching the dining-room, found 
 the earl and his mother already there. Tlie dowager was some- 
 what surprised at the uncouth appearance of Andrew; and his 
 lordship was evidently amused at the loolc with which she 
 inspected him. At first, and for some time, the conversation 
 was vague and general; but the earl saw that Andrew was 
 studiously cultivating the good graces of the old lady, and that, 
 although every now and then she looked at him stately and 
 askance, occasionally both his manners and language deranged 
 the settled seriousness of her features into a smile. 
 
 When the dessert was placed on the table, and the servants 
 had retired, our hero opened his battery, by saying to the earl, 
 "What do you think your leddy-mother here, and my new friend 
 the dainty doctor there, hae been about, my lord?" 
 
 Her ladyship was in the act of holding her glass while the 
 doctor poured u little wine into it; but at the nonchalance of tliis 
 address she withdrew her hand, and erected herself into tlie 
 stateliest pitch of dignity; and the physician setting down the 
 decanter, his task unperformed, looked across the table in un- 
 speakable amazement. Ilis lordship smiled, and replied, "Wiiy, 
 Wylie, how should I know? I dare say something they don't 
 like to hear of, if I may judge by their looks." 
 
 "Weel, I'll tell you, resumed Andrew. "Now, my leddy, ye 
 maun just comi)o.se yoursel'; for it's vera proper his lordship 
 sliould hear how you and the doctor were playing at '^ xmon and 
 Phillis among tlic groves and bowers. They think, my lord, 
 that they puw your leddy gallanting wi' a gentlemj a.'' 
 "Monster!" exclaimed the dowager, flaming with indignation. 
 The doctor was panic-struck, 
 
 "Whisht, whisht, my leddy," cried Andrew, slyly; "if you 
 will be poking at a businesH of this kind, ye maun just abide the 
 consequences. But I would ask what greater harm could there 
 be in the countess walking in a garden with u well-bred gentlo- 
 
 II •.,: 
 
C:i AFTER XXXV. — CONVEBSATION. 
 
 171 
 
 ing- room, found 
 ragcr was some- 
 ndrevv; and his 
 rvith which she 
 he conversation 
 at Andrew was 
 lady, and that, 
 lim stately and 
 guage deranged 
 le. 
 
 id the servants 
 ng to the earl, 
 1 my new friend 
 .?" 
 
 glass while tlic 
 chalancc of this 
 lersclf into the 
 tting down the 
 le tahle in un- 
 replied, "Why, 
 ling they don't 
 
 r, my leddy, ye 
 jr his lordship 
 at '^^ itnon and 
 hink, my lord, 
 njii." 
 th indignation. 
 
 slyly; "if you 
 1 just abide the 
 :ni could there 
 ll-bred gentle- 
 
 man, than in your leddyship doing the same with that bit body 
 o a doctor ? " 
 
 The earl perceiving the turn that the conversation was taking, 
 and knowing from Andrew's manner that the truth would be 
 served up without any disguise, he was uneasy and disconcerted, 
 and almost wished that the topic was changed. But anxious at 
 the same time to learn the whole circumstances, and curious to 
 know the point of light in which it struck our hero, he remained, 
 as it were, seemingly absent and inattentive, making a Niobe's 
 face of an orange, and squeezing it, " all tears," into his glass. 
 
 Andrew continued, — "I have always heard, Leddy Sandy- 
 ford, that ye were a wise and a sensible v Dman ; but I would 
 ask you a question: — Granted noo that ye did see a decent 
 woman like the countess — but like's an ill mark — would it no 
 hae been niair to the purpose to hae made sure, in the first 
 place, that it was really her? and in the second, to have en- 
 quired at herself on the spot what she was doing there ? Na, 
 ray leddy, this is a serious concern, and the truth must be borne 
 wi' ; to come away without searching it to the bottom, wasna 
 according to your wonted discreiion ; and if ye hadna been ino- 
 culated wi' a bad opinion of your good-dochter beforehiiud, ye 
 wouldna hae put sic an ill colour on what may have been in 
 itself a very comely action." 
 
 The doctor by this time had in some degree recovered him- 
 self; and the freedom with which Andrew spoke having an in- 
 fectious influence on him, said, "But, sir, you forget that there 
 is a child in the case." 
 
 The dowager, however, who had sat some time in a state of 
 consternation, intermpted the conversation, exclaiming, " Lord 
 Sandyford, how can you permit this at your table, and in my 
 presence?" 
 
 " Why," replied the carl, " I'm afraid there is something like 
 reason in what Wylio says : he is a being of a strange element, 
 and your ladyship mtist endufc to hear him out, or j-ou will 
 perhaps do both his wit and his wisdom injustice." 
 
 Andrew discovered that he had gone too fur with the circum- 
 spect dowager. He had treated her with a 'jort of freedom that 
 could only have been used with impunity to the whist-tablo 
 
172 
 
 SIR ANDTtEW WTLIE. 
 
 itf'- 
 
 I . rr 
 
 r ' . • 
 
 tabbies of London ; those whom lie occasionally met with and 
 as he said, touzled their decorum. But his natural shrewd per-' 
 ception of character soon enabled him to correct the error and 
 to adapt his conversation much more to the dowager's formal 
 notions of etiquette and delicacy. 
 
 " rU tell you what it is, my leddy," said he ; " from the first 
 to the last there has been a great misunderstanding in the whole 
 business between my lord and the countess; I could see that 
 long ago, though I hae but twa een, and nae better anes than mv 
 neighbours. They have wanted a sincere friend between them 
 the hke o' your leddyship, for example; and noo that they're 
 hither and yon frae ane anither, it behoves a' that wish them 
 weel, and few hae mair cause to do sae than mysel', who has been 
 made, as it were, by my lord, to take tent that a breach is no 
 opened that canna be biggit up. Joking aside-I think your 
 leddyship and the doctor hae been a wee hasty in your con- 
 elusions. I'll no say that the countess is an innocent woman, 
 but let us hae some proof o' her guilt before we condemn. As 
 to the bairn, that's a living witness of a fact somcwliere-I alloo 
 that. But, my leddy, I'll tell you what I'll do; that is, if ye 
 approve it, for I would submit to your better judgment 111 
 gang wanly and cannily ouer to Castle Rooksborough mysel', and 
 muddle about the root o' this affair till I get at it. I think that 
 I may be able to do this as weel as a person o' mair consideration 
 Naebody in this country side kens me; I'll be scoggit wi' my 
 am hamely manner; and if I can serve my lord, I'm bound by 
 gratitude to do sae." ^ 
 
 After some further conversation this project was approved of, 
 and the dowager began to entertain a more condescending dis- 
 position towards our hero. 
 
 The carriage was ordered to be ready to convey him early 
 next morning to the Rose and Crown ; but, said he, " No just 
 sae far; I n,aun gang there on shanks-naigy ; I'll only tak it 
 
 till within a mile or ♦«"> o' ♦i"- -.]~-a- ^ • » i, 
 
 urn done 1 11 cither come slipping back, or the servan's can, a't 
 their leisure, bring the carriage on to the inns, whar I'll get in 
 fw an utter stranger, taken up by them, a. It were, for a job to 
 tliemselves. '' 
 
CHAPTER XXXV. — CONVERSATION. 
 
 173 
 
 ' met with, and, 
 ral shrewd per- 
 t the error, and 
 owager's formal 
 
 " from the first 
 ng in the whole 
 
 could see that 
 r anes than my 
 
 between them, 
 30 that they're 
 hat wish them 
 .', who has been 
 a breach is no 
 —I think your 
 J in your con- 
 aocent woman, 
 condemn. As 
 where — I alloo 
 
 that is, if ye 
 jdgment. Ill 
 igh mysel', and 
 . I think that 
 consideration 
 coggit wi' my 
 I'm bound by 
 
 8 approved of, 
 ascending dis- 
 
 ^ey him early 
 he, " No just 
 11 only tak it 
 I hae got Diy 
 rvan's can, at 
 lar I'll get in 
 , for a job to 
 
 The aristocracy of the dowager did not entirely relish this 
 method of setting on foot an enquiry into the conduct of a 
 Countess of Sandyford. But Andrew combated her prejudices 
 so adroitly, and in so peculiar a manner, that she was forced to 
 acquiesce. 
 
 " It's no for me, certainly," said he, " to enter into a contro- 
 versy with your leddyship on points o' this nature ; but ye hae 
 lived ouer good a life to ken ony thing aboiit the jookerie- 
 cookerie o' crim coning." 
 
 The dowager's face, which had for some time worn a com- 
 placent aspect, became again troubled at this renewal of a fami- 
 liarity so little in harmony with her habits and notions ; but 
 having sat her due lady's portion of time at the table, she rose 
 and left the room. The carl also soon after retired, leaving the 
 doctor and Andrew by themselves : the phj'sician, however, was 
 so effectually mastered by the irresistible humour of his com- 
 panion, that, dreading to encounter his raillery, under the pre- 
 text of professional engagements, he rose and went home before 
 tea was announced. 
 
 Our hero being thus left alone, pondered on the circumstances 
 which had procured to him the confidence of Lord Sandyford, 
 and the promptings of his own honest persuasion made him 
 determine to leave no effort untried to restore the domestic happi- 
 ness of his patron. In frequenting the parties at Sandyford 
 House, and in the course of the familiar access which he was 
 allowed at all times both to the carl and countess, he had noticed 
 the cold politeness which existed between them ; but he formed 
 an estimate of their respective dispositions much more correct 
 than that of the world in general. He discovered, through the 
 disguise of his lordship's habitual ennui, a gnawing anxiety, and 
 justly ascribed his dissipation to the irritation of his embittered 
 reflections. The equable and sustained deportment of her lady- 
 shi)) was not, however, so easily penetrated ; but he saw that it 
 V.!!-. ir.nrsi thf^ 4»t?'<i!'.t. of practiro and caution-, than her natural dis- 
 position, and suspected that she possessed an inherent energy, 
 which only^required commensurate circumstances to call into 
 action. Bhc was evidently a woman not eaj*!!} disturbed by the 
 little occasiionul incidents which so profoundly attoct the luippi- 
 
174 
 
 8ia JIJJDREW WYI-LE. 
 
 ness of her s-x; and her feelings having no particular object to 
 interest them, neither children, nor, in a certain sense, husband, 
 she moved along the stream of time like a stately vessel on the 
 tide, whose superb appearance is all that attracts the attention 
 of the spectator. 
 
 Her ladyship was certainly to blame for not endeavouring to 
 recall the scattered aflPections of her lord ; nor is it easy to frame 
 an apology for her negligence in this respect. But how many 
 ladies act in the same way, and, heedless of tije unsettled and 
 fluctuating state of all human attachments, seem to consider, 
 when they are wedded, that it is no longer requisite to continue 
 those agreeable humours and graces which first won the esteem 
 of their husbands. The triumph of woman lies not in the ad- 
 miration of her lover, but in the respect of her husband; and it 
 can only be gained by a constant cultivation of those qualities 
 which she knows he most values. But Lady Sandyford, like 
 many of her sex, had been taught to entertain other notions. 
 She did not certainly regulate herself, as some others, fatally for 
 their own happiness, often do, by the standard of some parti- 
 cular individual, whom habit or duty may have taught them to 
 venerate— a father, a brother, or a guardian ; but she did what 
 was equally unfortunate— she courted public admiration, and it 
 was with deference towards it that all her actions and motions 
 were estranged from that sphere of duties which would have 
 endeared her to the sensitive bosom of her lord. Our hero, 
 therefore, in contemplating "■e result which had flowed frrm 
 her apparent indifference, suspected that she felt infinitely more 
 undti the separation than the carl conceived. 
 
 He did her also justice in another point: he coidd not for :i 
 moment allow himself to think she was guilty oven of levity. 
 He had remarked her pride, and his intuitive knowledge of 
 human nature convinced him, that pride alone will often do the 
 part of virtue. In a word, the tenor of his cogitations were 
 honourable to himself and favourable to the countess. For, not 
 assuming the probubHity uf guilt, bui only desirous to reach ihe 
 bottom of the business, he was able to take a far more candid 
 view of the diflbront i)resumptions against her, than if he had 
 been actuated by any preconceived opinion. In this generou.s 
 
 I 
 
CUAPTEK XXXV. — CONVERSATION. 
 
 175 
 
 'ticular object to 
 1 sense, husband, 
 ?ly vessel on the 
 ;ts the attention 
 
 endeavouring to 
 it cosy to frame 
 But how many 
 e unsettled and 
 em to consider, 
 isite to continue 
 won the esteem 
 3 not in the ad- 
 busband; and it 
 ■ those qualities 
 Sandyford, like 
 I other notions, 
 thers, fatally for 
 of some parti- 
 taught them to 
 it she did what 
 Tiiration, and it 
 tis and motion.s 
 ch would have 
 rd. Our hero, 
 id flowed frrm 
 infinitely more 
 
 !ould not for a 
 oven of levity. 
 
 knowledge of 
 ill often do tlu> 
 igitations were 
 toss. For, not 
 us to reach the 
 r more candid 
 han if he iuid 
 
 this generous 
 
 frame of mind, he embarked with a determination to sift the 
 whole matter to the utmost, and, in the end, if he found the 
 conduct of the countess what he hoped and expected it would 
 prove, he resolved to speak to her freely of what he had observed 
 in her behaviour towards her husband, and then to bring about 
 the more difficult and delicate task of a cordial reunion. 
 
 When the mind entertains a noble purpose, it never fails to 
 dignify the physiognomy and external appearance. Andrew, in 
 obeying the summons of the dowager to tea, entered the room 
 with an ease of carriage which struck her, not only or account 
 of its propriety, but also by the contrast which it presented to 
 his naturally insignificant air and homely garb. 
 
 Her ladyship, in the interval after quitting the dining-room, 
 was not, upon reflection, much satisfied with what had passedj 
 and was resolved to be both cool and dignified, in order to pre- 
 vent a repetition of the familiarity which had so ruflied her 
 notions of decorum ; but the generosity which lighted up the 
 smooth round face and little twinkling eyes of her guest, pro- 
 duced an instantaneous and sympathetir effect; and instead of 
 the austere grandeur which she had determined to practise, she 
 invited him to take a seat on the sofa beside her. with a gracious- 
 ness of manner that could not have been excelled, even had she 
 known the intention with which he was at the moment ani- 
 mated. 
 
 When tl-.e earl, who soon after entered the room, saw them in 
 this situation, his favourable opinion of the tact and address of 
 Andrew was considerably increased. He knew the nice notions 
 of his mother, and her profound veneration for the etiquettes of 
 polite hfe, and had, from the first, apprehended a rupture, the 
 stale of her mind at the time not being at all in unison with that 
 familiar drollery which our hero could neither disguise nor 
 repress. He was, therefore, in no small degree surprised to find 
 then seated together, and apparently on those terms which he 
 biul never imagined it was practicable for Andrew to attain 
 with lier ladyship. 
 
 During tea the conversation was general and lively : no allu- 
 sion was made to what hod constituted the chief and most inter- 
 esting topic after dinner ; and the old lady was several times 
 
176 
 
 
 
 SIE ANDREW WYLIE. 
 
 constrained to laugh heartily at Andrew's ludicrous adventures 
 in his journey fro.a London, as well as at some of his quee 
 stones, of which he selected those most calculated to plea! 
 her; so that, while she perceived he was a person of no reflned 
 acquirements, she could not but acknowledge in her own 
 mind that he was undoubtedly endowed bv nature with singular 
 shrewdness, and with peculiar talents >f no ordinary Ld 
 It was true, that he said things which n delicate respect for 
 the prejudices and notions of others would have restrained a 
 man of more gentlemanly pretensions from expressing; but there 
 was no resisting the strong common sense of his remarks, nor 
 withstanding the good-humoured merriment of his allusions 
 She, however, now and then felt uneasy that she had so rashly 
 sent back the countess's letter. But like all others who do an 
 thing of which they afterwards doubt the propriety, .ho concealed 
 entirely from her son, and wished, if possible, to forget herseh' 
 that she had taken so decided a part ' 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 NEW Liaiirs. 
 
 " I FEAR, my lord," said our hero, when the dowager had left 
 the room " that I have spoken ouer freely on this misfortune that 
 has befallen your lordship's family; but in truth, my lord a sore 
 at no time will bear handling. If I had conversed in a manner 
 that might have been mair fitting to the occasion, it wouldna 
 hae mended the matter; so I rather nm the risk of the conse- 
 quences with your leddy-mother, than be slack in delivering my 
 honest opinion. But setting joking aside, my lord, this story of 
 hers and the doctor's- concerning the gentleman avont the hush, 
 Is really something vera extraordinar." 
 
 "Yes, Wylio," replied the earl, "it is so; but although my 
 mother makes it of importance, it is none to me. I have been 
 but so so as a husband : and, by my conscience, nothing in earth 
 
CHAPTER XXXVI. — NEW LIGHTS. 
 
 177 
 
 will ever induce me to institute any proceedings against Lady 
 Sandyford." 
 
 " That's a vera contrite sentiment of your lordship, and comes, 
 or I'm mista'en, from the bottom of the heart ; but surely, mv 
 lord, ye wouldna like your estates, and the honours of all your 
 lordship's ancient and famous progenitors, to go to the base 
 blood of a stranger." 
 
 " I thought, Wylie," said the eari coldly, " that you had been 
 more the friend of Lady Sandyford. I am sure that she always 
 treated j'ou with kindness." 
 
 " With the height of discretion, I maun aye allow that," 
 replied our hero ; " and far be it from my thoughts or intent to 
 advise any harm either to the name or dignity of the countess, 
 whom I canna believe to have been playing ony plasket. A' 
 that I meant your lordship to understand was, supposing, just 
 1j)' wuy of premises to confer upon, that the countess had done 
 the deed, and was as black as your leddy-mother and her gallant 
 the doctor fear, how would your lordship propose that she should 
 be treated?" 
 
 "As the daughter of the Marquis of Avonside." 
 
 "Her father is a proud man, my lord," resumed Andrew, 
 " and will take care of that. But suppose she is the mother of 
 the bairn— for to this length tho suspicion, as I guess, runs— 
 what would be your lordship's pleasure then ?" 
 
 The eari made no answer. He sat for some time silent; and 
 then he rose and walked thrice across the room. He was evi- 
 dently grieved and perplexed. Wylie sat watching him with 
 interest and sympathy. 
 
 The struggle lasted about five minutes, at the end of which 
 his lordship resumed his chair, and said, "I cannot tell you what 
 I may do, nor can I imagine what I ought to do. But Lady 
 Sandyford, whatever may have been her fault, has pride enough 
 to prevent her from imposing a spurious heir on my earidom. 
 The concealment with which she has covered the hirth. if she 
 is a mother, assures me that the attempt will never be made; so 
 that, even in a woridly point of view, I oufrht i -^ake no stir in 
 this business." And he sighed deeply, widi- 'It is needless 
 
 ^ . M 
 
178 
 
 SIE ANDREW WTLIE. 
 
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 ii 
 
 1 ' t 
 
 
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 to disguise to you any longer, that I am more distressed than I 
 seem." 
 
 "Really, my lord, your case is a very kittle ane," replied our 
 hero, deeply affected; "but no to dAvell on the dark side o't, let 
 us suppose noo, that after all this hobleshow and clash, it 
 should turn out that the countess is an innocent and an injured 
 woman." 
 
 "Yoa are destined to exalt or to sink me for ever, in my own 
 esteem!" exclaimed the earl; "and you have put to me a ques- 
 tion that I would, but durst not, ask myself. She left my housr 
 voluntarily, by the advice of her father." 
 
 His lordship paused, and looked as if he expected that 
 Andrew would say something; but he remained silent. 
 
 Tbe earl then said abruptly, "What do you think I ought to 
 
 ^ I cannot ask her back— she AviU be happier apart from 
 iXiid, since we are in the tongues of the world, it is no 
 iongor expedient for us to assume counterfeit virtues." 
 
 " Truly, what your lordship says is no without a glim-mer of 
 common sense; but in the way of a conjecture, let us take an- 
 other supposition. What would your lordship do, if my leddy, of 
 her own free grace, was to confess a fault for running awa wi' 
 her father, and beg to be received home again ?" 
 
 "Impossible!" exclaimed the earl with energy--" Impos- 
 sible ! Her pride could never stoop to such humihation." 
 
 " I can see there is difficulty in the way. Howsoever, greater 
 mountains have been removed without miracles. And your 
 lordship hasna said what you would do, supposing my suppose 
 were to come to pass." 
 
 " It would, I suspect, Wylie," replied the earl jocularly, " be 
 rather an awkward meeting." 
 
 " Then you would consent to meet her leddyship?" said our 
 hero slyly. 
 
 The earl was startled at the unconscious disclosure he had 
 made of his own feelings, while he admired the shrewdness of 
 his counsellor ; and said, with a free and sincere accent, "Wylie, 
 it is in vain for me to equivocate with you. I do not think the 
 return of the countess probable; and, therefore, have never con- 
 
CHAPTER XXXVI. — NEW ilGHTS. 
 
 179 
 
 stressed than I 
 
 e," replied our 
 
 sidered how I should act on such an occurrence. Towards her 
 I can bear no malice. But you surprise me. However, I will 
 say no more. Let this conversation, for the preser ' d." 
 
 " I thought," replied Andrew, with a dc-ree of fi. .„ >vhich 
 surprised the earl, " that your lordship had better notions of 
 justice than to punish where perhaps you ought to make atone- 
 ment." 
 
 His lordship, who had risen during part of this conversation, 
 took a chair as our hero uttered these words, and looked flushed 
 with an angry confusion. 
 
 " My lord," continued Andrew, observing his agitation, "there's 
 none in the worid hae such cause to speak the truth to your 
 lordship as I have. You have taken me by the hand, and led me out 
 o' the slough of poverty, where I might have struggled and sunk. 
 Ye hae placed me in the flowery pastures of prosperity, and ye 
 shouldna be displeased at the humble ettling of my gratitude. If 
 my leddy has had her faults and deficiencies, your lordship's own 
 breast bears witness that ye have not yoursel' been perfect. But 
 I am transgressing the bounds of discretion, in speaking in this 
 manner to your lordship. Nevertheless, ray lord, though I should 
 offend, it will be my endeavour to serve your lordship, as it is my 
 duty to do, whatever your lordship may say to the contrary; and 
 to strive, by all honest means, to testify my sense of obligation 
 for the kindness heaped upon me." 
 
 The eari was petrified. There was an energy of tone, and a 
 decision of character in this, which his lordship had never expe- 
 nenoed towards 1 imself, nor did he imagine Andrew possess- 
 ed half so much generous sensibility. 
 
 " Do you think," replied the earl thoughtfully, " that even 
 were I disposed to wish for a reconciliation, Ladv Sandyford 
 might be averse to it." 
 
 " I hope she has more sense, were your lordship to entertain 
 any such creditable wish. But, my lord, she has been long an 
 outcast, as it wore, from your affections. I cannot, therefore, 
 venture to give your lordship any reason to think that she may 
 wish for a reconciliation. But as soon as I have made an expe- 
 nment, I'll hae the greatest pleasure in letting you know the 
 result, especially if it be favourable." 
 
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180 
 
 SIH ANDREW WTLIE. 
 
 " You are too quick, Wylie," said the earl coldly, " I did not 
 express any solicitude on the subject. Judging from the past, I 
 still continue of the same mind, that it is better for Lady Sandy- 
 ford and me to remain as we are, than to live together as we 
 have done." 
 
 " That's no to be denied," replied Andrew. " Biit it's to be 
 hoped that, were ye coming thegither again, it would be with 
 better hopes, designs, and intents. Knowing, as ye now do 
 wherein the -reat strength of both your faults lies, ye would 
 bear and forbear with more reciprocal indulgence. Ye couldna 
 live the life ye have done, even though ye were both so iU-deedv 
 as to try." ^ 
 
 This characteristic touch made the earl smile ; and he said, 
 " You are a singular being, and will have your own way." 
 
 In saying these words, the countenance of his lordship was for 
 a moment overcast, and the sudden flowing in of thoughts and 
 feelings on his heart obliged him to leave tlie room. Andrew 
 soon after pulled the bell, and requesting the carriage to be 
 m readiness to convey him to Castle Rooksborough by daylight 
 was shown to a bed-room. But it is necessary to revert, in the 
 mean time, to the situation of Lady Sandyford. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII. 
 
 THE CASTLE. 
 
 The countess, on sending off her letter, had returned to Elder- 
 bower, where she received the answer; the first shock of which 
 almost overset her reason. She started from her seat, and, 
 wildly shaking her head and hands, ran and touched several 
 articles in the room, as if to ascertain their reality, and that she 
 was not in a droam. She was like a bird entangled in a saare, 
 or a captive when first immured in his dungeon. She felt as if 
 an invisible power, tliat would crush her to death, was closing 
 in on all sides. She gasped, as if some enormous weight pressed 
 
CHAPTER XXXVII. — THE CASTLE. 
 
 181 
 
 upon her bosom, and for several minute's her mind was as the 
 fury of a glowing furnace. 
 
 In the midst of this paroxysm, she made a vigorous effort to 
 control her agitation, and succeeded. While distractedly pacing 
 the room, she halted suddenly, and said, " Why do I yield to this 
 consternation? There is some error in all this— There is no 
 conspiracy against me— I am innocent of the crime, imputed— 
 I will go at once to my lord— I will relate the whole of what 
 has happened— he has treated me as if I had no feeling— but 
 he is a man of honour, and will not allow me to be injured un- 
 justly." 
 
 When she had thus somewhat calmed the perturbation of her 
 spirits, she ordered a post-chaise for Chastington Hall, and in 
 tlie course of a few hours quitted Elderbower. 
 
 Before she had gained the second stage, she felt herself so 
 much indisposed that she was obliged to stop, and go to bed. 
 In the course of the night, however, she obtained some rest ; 
 and her spirits were so refreshed in the morning, that she arose 
 with a cheerful alacrity to resume her journey to the residence 
 of her husband. 
 
 After breakfast, a chaise for Chastington was accordingly 
 ordered, and she went to the door amended by the landlord, to 
 hand her in. As she was on the point of ascending the steps of 
 the carriage, her hand was eagerly seized by some one behind, 
 and on looking round she beheld, with equal surprise and alarm, 
 the pale and ghastly Ferrers. 
 
 " Ha ! " exclaimed the coimtess, horror-struck at his appear- 
 ance; "how! when! what has brought you here?" 
 
 " I came last night, and I have been" What he would 
 
 have added was broken off by a shriek from the countess, who 
 fainted, and fell back into his arms. 
 
 Some time elapsed before she recovered, and when she opened 
 her eyes in the apartment to which she had been carried, the 
 first object they caught was Servfnal, her lord's valet, who. per- 
 ceiving that she recognized him, instantly left the room, and 
 having a horse ready at the door, quitted the house. lie was 
 on his way to London on some confidential business, but he 
 returned to Chastington Hall with the news of this discovery. 
 
 
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 HHK 
 
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 182 
 
 SIB ANDREW WTLIE. 
 
 As for Fei-rers, still under the influence of insanity, believing 
 he had been the cause of this unfortunate lady's death, he rushed 
 from the house in a state of distraction, and was nowhere to be 
 found. 
 
 When the countess was so far recovered as t«) be able to speak, 
 she ordered the chaise, which still stood at the door, to carry 
 her to Burisland Abbey, where, immediately on her arrival, she 
 sent for Flounce ; and being determined now to avail herself of 
 her father's ofler of Bretonsbield Castle, she dispatched, at the 
 same time, one of the servants to apprize the domestics of her 
 intention. All this was done with a force and precision of mind 
 new to her character. 
 
 The singularity of the circumstances into which she had been 
 placed with Ferrers, awakened in her a sort of superstitious 
 dread. Their misfortunes seemed strangely and awfully mingled ; 
 and feeling herself unaccountably and darkly connected with the 
 desperate fortunes of a frantic man, she believed herself a passive 
 agent in the hands of Fate, and trembled to think that she was 
 thus united to some tremendous and immeasurable movement of 
 the universe. There was sublimity in the fancies that rose with 
 this notion ; and the place where she had determined to take up 
 her abode was well calculated to cherish the n associations 
 
 connected with her Promethean resolutioji etire from the 
 
 world, and there await the issue of that scheme of destiny with 
 which she was so mysteriously involved. 
 
 Bretonsbield Castle was a pile of unknown antiquity. From 
 the earliest periods of our national history, it had been remark- 
 able, both on account of its mussy architecture, and the sullen 
 and stern solitariness in which it stood. The Saxons had added 
 to its strength, and the Normans had enlarged the sweep of the 
 walls, and the number of the towers. In the chivalric times 
 of the heroic Plantagenets, it acquired some ornamental ap- 
 pendages ; and, in the first reign of the Stuarts, it lost some 
 of the features of a mere stronghold in a suite of magnificent 
 apartments, of an airy and fantftstic 8tyle, which, however, 
 still harmonized with the rude grandeur of the general edifice. 
 The road to it lay along the acclivity of an extensive common, 
 and by a gentle ascent attained the summit of the downs, from 
 
CHAPTEB XXXVII. — THE CASTLE. 
 
 183 
 
 nity, believing 
 jath, he rushed 
 nowhere to be 
 
 ! able to speak, 
 door, to carry 
 ler arrival, she 
 vail herself of 
 atched, at the 
 nestles of her 
 cision of mind 
 
 I she had been 
 superstitious 
 fully mingled; 
 ected with the 
 rself a passive 
 ; that she was 
 1 movement of 
 that rose vrith 
 led to take up 
 a associations 
 tire from the 
 F destiny with 
 
 luity. From 
 been remark- 
 nd the sullen 
 ms had added 
 sweep of the 
 ivalric times 
 amental ap- 
 it lost some 
 ' magnificent 
 ;h, however, 
 neral edifice, 
 live common, 
 downs, from 
 
 which, on the one hand, the country below presented a wide and 
 magnificent prospect, extending to the horizon ; while, on the 
 other, an open and lonely waste spread out to a great distance, 
 in which no other object was visible but the castle, rising from 
 the midst of a dark mass of fir-trees. 
 
 The scene suited the disposition of Lady Sandyford's mind ; 
 and it seemed to her that a spot in which the wild, the old, and 
 the magnificent, were so united, was a fit theatre for the exercise 
 of the courage and endurance which she was determined to 
 exercise. 
 
 But far different were the reflections of her waiting gentle- 
 woman ; according to her own account, when the carriage reached 
 the brow of the downs, and she saw nothing before her but a 
 desert waste, she felt as if a magician was carrying her away on 
 the back of a fiery dragon, to the well at the world's end. 
 
 As the carriage drove into the silent court of the castle, like 
 a peal of thunder, the countess said, as it stopped at the entrance 
 to the hall, " \Miat an awful place it is ! " and she cast her eyes 
 apprehensively round on the Wy-mantled towers, the hoary walls, 
 and the lichen-furred pinnacles. 
 
 " Yes," replied Flounce. 
 
 " It chills tho suspended soul, 
 Till expectation wears the cast of fear; 
 And fear, half ready to heoonie devotion, 
 Mumbles a kind of mental orison. 
 It knows not where.' ■ro." 
 
 "Why, Flounce!" exclaimed her astonished lady, "where got 
 you that language?" 
 
 " It is a beautiful sentiment," said that erudite gentlewoman, 
 "which I learned by rote from one of Mrs Radcliffe's romances. 
 It will be quite charming, my lady, to read them in this delight- 
 ful Udolpho ; and I hope your ladyship will make a point of 
 having them sent from town." 
 
 As none of the servants were in attendance, the countess 
 desired the post-boys to open the door, and, alighting with 
 Flounce, walked into the hall. The housekeeper, and her hus- 
 band the gardener, were indeed all the domestics that the 
 Marquis of Avonside kept at this place ; and it happened, when 
 
 11 
 

 
 184 
 
 
 I 
 
 SIB ANDREW WYLIE. 
 
 ^rtTftfLsr "' " *'^ '--' ''-' ''-' -- ^" ^ -- 
 
 The countess halted when she had reached the middle of the 
 hall, and surveyed it in silence. It was lofty, and of stately 
 d.^ens.ons-lighted from the one side by two Ik narrow w£ 
 dows; the space between which was occupied by a huge arched 
 chimney, wxth massy antique iron dogs for burning wo d and 
 
 hk the habi ude of ancient hospitality. A small claw-footeS 
 table, on which stood a basket of linen and old stockings, with 
 a pair of scissors a thimble, and thread-paper, lying around Is 
 hey h^ been le ft by the housekeeper, occupi;d,'wif h two old 
 fa hioned gnarled elbow-chairs, the niche of one of the windows 
 The walls were ol dark and small panelled wainscot, on which 
 
 Ihe aspec of the whole apartment was gaunt and venerable 
 but t could not be altogether said that the effect was eithe 
 desolate or me ancholy. But this was less owing to the s'yle and 
 architecture of the room, than to the superb prospect whLh tSe 
 windows commanded. The castle stood in the briSk of a haggv 
 
 rec.p,,e; and the side where the windows were placed, ov^?. 
 looked a wide expanse of one of the richest tracts of TngLd 
 on which the sun at the time was shedding the golden radtnct 
 
 scatfeLtbTT-f ,?'' •^"'^' ^''^'^ ^''-' -d *-nt ay 
 scattered in beautiful diversity to the utmost verge of the horizon 
 
 and here and there the steeple of a country church noinZ Jo 
 
 heaven, might be seen rising from the middle of a grove crowned 
 
 with a glittering star, the effect of the setting sun on "he "nSed 
 
 weathercock; while broad and bright, with^ll their win ots 
 
 Zl '? ' V^^^'^"" «f that magnificent landscape. "Our 
 
 ancestors, said the Countess to Flounce, "did not lack taste in 
 
 he choice of situations. Their captivi, with s^Lh a free and 
 
 spacious view bcforo them, could scariely feel thetss iJ 
 
 At this moment the old housekeeper entered; and .pologizin^ 
 upper end of the hall, and conducted the countess through the 
 
yere in a remote 
 
 CHAPTEB XXXVni. — INEXPERIENCE. 
 
 185 
 
 long suite of state apartments to a small drawing-room in an 
 octagon tower, which commanded seven different views from as 
 many small windows. " I have brought your ladyship to this 
 place," said Mrs Scrubwell, " because it was the favourite room 
 of the marchioness your mother ; and I thought on that account 
 you would be pleased with it." 
 
 " You have judged rightly," replied her ladyship with emo- 
 tion ; and she mentally ejaculated, " My mother ! How wofully 
 I now feel that loss 1 " 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII. 
 
 INEXPERIENCE. 
 
 At break of day, our hero was afoot and dressed for his 
 mission to the Rose and Crown at Castle Rooksborough ; but 
 instead of waiting for the carriage to come up to the portal of 
 the hall, he walked out to the court of offices, which stood at 
 some distance from the mansion. 
 
 It was a beautiful spring morning. The mavis, the black- 
 bird, and the linnet, were beginning to chirp and churni over 
 their young in the bowers, but the lark was already at heaven's 
 gate singing her matins. The sun had not yet risen, and the 
 dewdrops lay like pearls on the grass and leaves; a cheerful 
 and refreshed composure was diffused over the whole face of 
 the landscape, and the forehead of the sky appeared unusually 
 spacious and beautiful ; a few grey flakes of vapour scattered 
 over it, seemed to float at an unwonted elevation, as they gradu- 
 ally brightened into the full glory of the morning. 
 
 The reflections of Andrew were in unison with the beneficent 
 aspect of nature, and he loitered with the sense of beauty glow- 
 ing at his heart, often turning round as the dlflerent windings 
 of the road unfolded, through the massy groups of foliage, the 
 diversified scenery of the surrounding country. 
 
 By the time he reached the entrance to the stables, the car- 
 
im 
 
 SIK ANDKEW WTLIE. 
 
 t' 
 
 W}& 
 
 riage was cominc- out " HnM , . 
 
 the coachman, "1 needna if T'u^"^' '"^ ^'^" ^^ ^^ied to 
 j^^^^ „ ye needna gang to the house ; I'll e'en step L 
 
 no;;t:L°l^^^"'" ^^P^'-^^^^-oach.a„,. "butTo.Ber:^i. 
 
 "And wha'sTam Berry?" 
 
 ;; The footman, sir, that is to go with us " 
 
 drive, without couping" ^^''^ ^ ^^n* is a fast 
 
 At a public-liouse w ,hi„ , '"T"^ "' performed. 
 o«r he™ stopped Zl'^^^^'^Z^ S^"" «°*»-".l., 
 for him there. ^ ' '^ ^^^'^ ^^e coachman to wait 
 
 r^ XltTe;™;:;; -' - - .e ™. „. „ 
 
 ae Ji a^l c™:?: ^"°'^"-' " -^ »*"ere to take y„„ .„ 
 and at no other plaee, I canna h^ ■. f ''°''°"<' Crown, 
 
 ''andso":iToMr;frh;rr:" r" "-,' --»"■■ 
 
 "here we now be." '"" '""""ry, I'd as lief bait 
 
 ah-g":i\r/r;tfH„*Tcs:? r™'^- *^ ■>« '-i 
 
 leeted something, "j hol,°3 "="»'"8;ly as if he had recol- 
 
 <"= jnn. here, ef„eer„i;°:/^,;„:r ■•■•"* '° '"' ""' "«' 
 
 A knows noup-ht o't s.V t 
 
 ^ "Then," replie'd ou^'hlr-wii'^V'"'' *^ '''''' ^^ '^-•" 
 finger on your mouth, for it'miSt b. W •'"' ^^ ^""P^"^ >'«"■• 
 were to spunk out." ^ ''^ detrimental if ony thing 
 
 "Never doubt me, sir^T l,o u 
 lordship's service, as my 'ather ^s i r 'f' ^"'^ ^^^ '" ^is 
 tra.sted; .nd I never speaks of Lvf ? "' ^"■^'-'''^' ^'" ^' ^^^ ^^ 
 '"inds my own servitude " ^ ^^^' ««n«equences, but only 
 
CHAPTER XXXVIII.-INKXPERIEXCE. 137 
 
 •'My name sir, U Snaffle-Jack Snaffle." 
 
 when ye're drinking and smokinr^" ur Z wi.th '""""' 
 my oozing tospeerthe price o'VorngTeerin thT' 'T 
 bourhood— and noo tha/r 1,0. » "*^^"ff ^rees m this nejgh- 
 
 let on about Ty com „ ' fr2 1 f ,T '''?^'* ""'*' ^^ "^^'^^^ 
 by-hand job." ^ '^' ^^^ ^* "' ^^^ P^«« »"« off a.s a 
 
 The coachman beinff thus spt nnnr, o „ 
 
 .ha. An.lrew had ,„ J S e 'i„Th, saTeT.h!? T"?'' 
 
 to the cause of his late strll; v^tTtt c'a^t^ """"TT " 
 tions on the extravagance o/Lr b hav our ?,' ^"'^ "b^^^^^' 
 interesting to Andrew and U Zo • , ^^ '"^J^^* ^^^ 
 
 chambermaids that'shrsS rtlXSVLT;' "^^ 
 baby was Mr Ferrers' daughter for it wn „ r u"^"^'"'' 
 kitten to a cat; and the oXlZ'JZ L - n' "^^ '' ^ 
 
Ijl» •• ' 
 
 188 
 
 SIB ANDREW VriLTE. 
 
 dW so, .here Ti/b f "aTo I'v'tt """• ""' " '"'^ 
 
 bestowed .„ prodlalrf J The":e;:r'°'" *j"' ™ 
 child, and its resemblance .Xrer, I ad ^he Iff' ,°° *=,''"' J"'' 
 our hern to chanire hi. n,.i„l„„i ■ . • '*'" "f "Klucing 
 
 at Castle RooS o'^VT; 'X™ H *""? "" "■^""^ 
 .hough, ,0 hring theti^ s^ot. r ^\?„'r;"''''' "^ "? 
 assuredly it w„„M have done so h^ Z.?„ A ?°" ' "'"' 
 at work, the force and effee. o wS h o„U t'^ " """" 
 act nor foresee ""'">'"' ""unter- 
 
 tie roof, and was conveyed to Eldertower. "' "' """""" 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX. 
 
 AT FAULT. 
 
 toottV^FloTn?'' *\' r""''" '''''' '"^^^'^ -bout an hour 
 
CIIAI'TER XXXIX. — AT FAULT. 
 
 189 
 
 wlience, as we have related, they proceeded to Britonsbeild 
 Castle, The servants were still in all the quandary and agita- 
 tion which belonged, among them, to the unexpected and unex- 
 plained nature of that event. And Andrew, on enquiring at the 
 gate for the countess, was informed that they knew nothing of 
 her. This intelligence mortified him exceedingly; and he stood 
 for some time in a state of stupefaction, occasioned by the repul- 
 sive tone in which it was given. He, however, soon rallied, and 
 endeavoured to enter into conversation with John Luncheon, the 
 footman, who had answered the gate bell; but his questions 
 were so gruffly dismissed, that he was utterly at a loss how to 
 proceed. At last he musteared self-possession enough to say, "I 
 have come from my lord at Chastington Hall on most particular 
 business with ray leddy ; but really what ye say is very con- 
 founding." 
 
 Upon hearing this, John gave him immediate admittance, and 
 conducted him to Mrs Polisher. 
 
 "What's a' this amang you?" said he to her as soon as the 
 footman had left the room. " Whar's Leddy Sandyford, or that 
 glaikit clatter-stoup. Flounce, her maiden ? I would fain see the 
 tane or the t'other." 
 
 " As for that," replied the decorous housekeeper, it is impos- 
 sible to give you any satisfaction. The day before yesterday, the 
 countess, as I must continue to call her till my lord instructs us 
 to the contrary, left this in a post-chaise alone for Chastineton 
 Hall." ^ 
 
 "That's no to be credited," cried Andrew, petrifieu at the 
 news; "for I left it this morning, - «d she wasna there." 
 
 "Ah! well we know that," said /i.a Polisher; "she went but 
 two stages, where, feigning to be indisposed, she stopped ; and 
 thai evening the fellow Ferrers came to the mn where she then 
 was." 
 
 Andrew drew in his breath, as if he had been pierced in the 
 most sensitive part with some acute instrument, and then gave a 
 long and deep pnfF of his breath, as if inwardly suffering the 
 greatest corporeal anguish. 
 
 " Then," continued the housekeeper, " such a tragical scene 
 took place, on her stepping into the carriage next morning after 
 

 IW' 
 
 100 
 
 5IB ANDREW WTLIE. 
 
 bidding Mr Ferrers farewell, as never was witnessed. She fainted 
 
 he has made away with himself." 
 
 " All this," said our hero, » is most prodigious : but how cam . 
 you to hear so many particulars ? " ^"'•- 
 
 iu3''^;-.?' u'* ?''"""* ^' questioned," exclaimed Mrs Po- 
 lisher, a bttle sharply, at hearing any shade of doubt cast on h r 
 information. " Mr Servinal himself happened to come up to tl 
 inn door at the critical moment ; and on seeing what too^a 
 dapped spurs to his horse, and gallopped back to Chastingt n 
 Hall to inform h,s master of this most scandalous discovery'" 
 
 black storvT'lr ';T/* ^T^^^o galloped here with'this 
 Wack story P-rhats what I wish to know," said Andrew in a 
 
 Thp?h • . ul ^T'^^'Ver, " ill tidings are fast travellers 
 The chaise which her ladyship had ordered for Chastington i^.' 
 fore she was detected by Mr Servinal, as soon as her feHow was 
 off, knowing It was all over with :.er character, she orde dTo ^n! 
 to Burisland Abbey where she now is ; and h;r slippeiy nyZ 
 Flounce, has gone therewith their bags and baggage The po^ -' 
 boys who drove her told the whole story to the A^onsick Tnd 
 «ie groom, who came to fetch Flounce, told our men so ther 
 ^ no dubious possibility in the matter. The only thing that h" 
 ^nsternated me in the business is, how our Lady Sandyfordwt 
 bhnd a. not to see through the craftiness of the plof But 
 
 ^y fnThlh ™^ r ""''"'' '" '^'"''^''^^ ^-- '- '-hat ^ver, 
 ooay in the house knew so well." ^ 
 
 "And what was that?" enquired Andr^^ sorrowfully nuite 
 overcome to find his good opinion of the countesiruL; 
 
 " The child. The two good-for-nothings had not been here 
 above three or four days till I found all out-^here the brat wL 
 
 t irslidt"' P rT"'"^ ""'''''' ''^'^ - clandestL'^Aln^ 
 to t, said Mrs Polisher; adding, in a tone of exultation at 
 having so completely established what she deemed thetut 
 
 trait of Firs'""v^"'"^ '^^ -'^' ^^^ '^'^ ^^^^-^ ^ P ■ 
 
 Thave it anT'-n r, '''.'" '^°""' ^'^'"^^ ^^^« '^'^ him oL. 
 1 nave it, and will deliver it to my lord." 
 
lessed. She fainted 
 on, and some think 
 
 3US ; but how came 
 
 cclairaed Mrs Po- 
 ' doubt cast on her 
 I to come up to tlic 
 ? what took place, 
 ik to Chastington 
 lous discovery." 
 ed here with this 
 said Andrew, in a 
 e knew not why. 
 ire fast travellers. 
 Chastington be- 
 as her fellow was 
 she ordered round 
 ■ slippery nymph, 
 rgage. Thepost- 
 ! Avonsides, and 
 ir men ; so there 
 l.y thing that has 
 5y Sandyford was 
 the plot. But I 
 I her what every 
 
 •rrowfully, quite 
 ^tess so utterly 
 
 1 not been here 
 ere the brat was 
 indestinely sent 
 f exultation at 
 raed the truth, 
 't behind a poi - 
 seen him often. 
 
 CHAPTER iXXIX.— AT FAULT. jQl 
 
 "Weel," ejaculated Andrew, with a sigh, "I have come a gowk's 
 errand ; and what am I to do next ? " 
 
 At first an indescnbable impulse'of compassion, interest, and 
 cunosjty prompted him to visit the countess at Bur sland AbCy 
 for st.ll, but ,t was only for a moment, he thought there m^hi 
 be some mistake in the story; but the tissue of circumstances 
 was so strong, that he could noc resist it ; and he almost instan ly 
 resolved to return without delay to Chastington Hall, in order to 
 ascertam the whole extent of the derogatory discove;ywhch he 
 was led to believe Servinal had made. ' On quitting EmTb wer 
 however, he reflected that his services could no longer be of Inv 
 
 which had come to light, it would be more discreet to return at 
 EZVr\ ^''^^'-^r^^y' h« P-e-ded straight to the Nag' 
 
 Im, f "'"^\^"«''^ "«*« t« the earl, to the effect, thatfind- 
 ing he had been all m the wrong, he could do no better than go 
 home to Mr Vellum's work; his only consolation being, that S 
 had been actuated by the best intentions, 
 ^hen his lordship received this note, he read it over several 
 
 TtlJ ^"- *^''. '^'' ^"f"™^tion which Andrew had 
 
 obtained was in unison with the liscovery that Servinal had 
 supposed he had made; and he had no doubt that was pe^ 
 fectly true, and of the most afflicting kind. He affected Viow- 
 ver, to speak of it to his mother lightly, and he prai. d tie 
 rr. t"'.'"*'*'' A"<i--'« better and resolution to return 
 
 tTad nC, ^ 1 ^"' '^'' ^°'" '^^" "^« P^«^°"«<1 «ff^«t which 
 t had produced, and trembled for the consequences. For although 
 
 that ;f' Tn '''" '^^' ' ^^ " self-exertion about him 
 
 V erll Z^V T"""^ "^^^ *h^ '^y -«• he aff^ected; and 
 
 Te bseldV : '"'""f '"^ ""' ""^^ ''^^^^ -' the table, 
 
 she observed his eyes to wander vacantly round the room, and a 
 
 toTnl? T;!.'^' """"'^'"'^ P"^^- ^''' than once she began 
 to speak with him on the subject of his concealed sorrn^ • but he 
 eitner broke away from her abru. ,tly, or exclaimed,' "wi'th a sharp 
 
 dur Irf? :^?" "^^^^^''^ ^^^«' «P-« -e; I cannot 
 P aure to think of what has passed !" 
 
"i 
 
 192 
 
 pi 'I ' 
 
 
 rn 
 
 SIB ANDREW WTLIE. 
 
 One afternoon he seemed to have recovered his wonted serenity 
 but there was a tone of solemnity and sadness in his voice which 
 filled the maternal breast of the dowager with boding and dread- 
 and when, m the course of the evening, he happened incidentall^ 
 to remark that he considered himself as the cause of his wife's 
 ruin, she was struck with a feeling of horror and alarm; espe- 
 cially when, in attempting to palliate the reflection that dictated 
 this sentiment, she hinted at the selfish disposition which the 
 countess had always shown. " Do not blame her !" he exclaimed • 
 "I was a fool not to have seen her true character from the begin-' 
 ning. I know not why I was so besotted as to believe, that 
 under her artificial manners I saw the latent principles and 
 essence of worth, and virtues, and sensibilities. Heavens, what 
 a wretch I have been, if she did indeed possess any such ouali- 
 ties! And, rising from his seat, he rushed wildly out of the 
 room. 
 
 CHAPTER XL. 
 
 A SCIENTIFIC BAnONET. 
 
 For some time after the Earl of Sandyford's departure from 
 London, his friend Mordaunt remained anxious and indecisive 
 respecting his own matrimonial concerns. The baronet still so 
 strictly adhered to his determination, that Julia should marry 
 Birchland, that it was found alike impracticable to work upon 
 his feelings or his reason. He had given his word, and that 
 pledge he was resolved to redeem. 
 
 Having exhausted every other resource of influence and per- 
 suasion, Mordaunt at last recollected what the earl said to him 
 about our hero, whose address and sagacity had indeed left a 
 favourable impression on his own mind. But there was some- 
 
 thills' in thfi nnnonranna nP Anrlr"— -i-f -1' -U • " 
 
 *i " • 1 - -i-p— '""• • '-r \narcrT nut uitogcther satislactory to 
 the pride of Mordaunt; and although he was inclined to consult 
 him, he did not very clearly perceive in what manner his ser- 
 vices could be rendered available. 
 
 ,1 
 
CUAPTEE XL.— A SCIENTIFIC BARONET. I93 
 
 However, soon aftc^ Andrew's return to London, havin- sent 
 for hira to breakfast, in order to enquire respecting the Jnfor- 
 tunate situation of Lord and Lady Sandyford, in the course of 
 their conversation he several times became thoughtful and 
 alluded inadvertently to his own matrimonial prospects 'with 
 doubt and anxiety. This, in one instance, was so particular 
 tha* our hero could not help remarking that he seemed troubled' 
 and from one thing to another, Mordaunt at la<.t opened his 
 mind, describing the perplexity arising from the intractable 
 character of Sir Thomas Beauchamp; at the same time express- 
 ing his regret, that the circumstances of Lord Sandyford should 
 have been such as to deprive him oi his powerful assistance, to 
 influence, if possible, the paternal feelinf-« of the baronet 
 
 Andrew sat for some time silent: a ,t he said, "l" canna 
 understau' what's the need o' a' this fasherie; for surely, if the lad 
 and the lass are baith willing, they may soon come thegither." 
 But, replied Mordaunt, "there are two things to be con- 
 sidered; first, the obligation which Sir Thomas conceives he is 
 under to Birchland, and Miss Eeauchamp's fortune If she 
 marry without her father's consent, I am persuaded he will cut 
 her oflr with a shilling." 
 
 "It would be very dure o' the auld carle, were he to do the 
 Me that. But as for his promise, that's but wind o' the 
 mouth, and breatli o' the nostril. The siller, however, is a 
 deevil. Im thinking that a fortune's no to be made, even by 
 matrimony without trouble. But no to mince the matter, what 
 ices the leddy hersel' say ? Will she rin awa wi' you ? " 
 
 Mordaunt laughed, and replied, the case was not so desperate 
 loot, toot!" exclaimed Andrew; "ye ken vera weel that I 
 didna mean that she was to gallop, stridhV 7 on a horse, wi' you 
 m a peck before her, like a cadger wi' a smuggled keg o' brandy 
 or a butcher wi' a calf frae the fair. But to speak proper Eng- 
 Ml, If we maun be on our perjinks, will you an' her baith rin 
 awa thegither?" 
 
 "No," replied Mordaunt; "that is the difficulty. She will 
 not consent to take any such disgraceful step." 
 
 "I'm thinking then, sir, th.n^ you should strain a point to get 
 her; for, an that's her mind, she'll mak you a vera decent wife." 
 
 3 
 
194 
 
 SIR ANDKEW WTLIE. 
 
 
 "Well," cried Mordaunt: "but how is the poiit to be 
 strained ? " 
 
 "I'll gang and speak to Sir Thomas," said Andrew. "I 
 would hear what he has to say anent the matter. Let me ken 
 the rights o' the case first, und then aiblins it may be in my 
 capacity to help you." 
 
 "Depend upon't MrWylie," said Mordaunt, "that any inter- 
 ference of a stranger with Sir Thomas will only make matters 
 worse. He's a thorough self-willed roundhead, and can only 
 be dealt with by letting him have his own way." 
 
 " If he thinks he has it, won't that do as weel, sir? Mr Mor- 
 daunt, an ye put your concerns into my hands, ye maun just 
 let me tak my ain gait, or I'll only ravel them by my meddling. 
 Is Sir Thomas at hame, think ye, even noo ? " 
 
 "Surely," exclaimed Mordaunt, in a .one of alarm, "you 
 would not rush to him at once on the business ? " 
 
 " Dinna fash your head about my ways and means, sir. Are 
 nae ye wud for your wedding ? what for would ye put obstacles 
 and delays to your ain pleasure ? I'll go to him outright ; so 
 just sit ye whar ye are till I come back. It's easier to excuse an 
 ill deed, than to gie satisfactory reasons beforehand for the doing 
 o' a good one. Therefore, Mr Mordaunt, sit still ; an' if ye hae 
 nae other playock, try if ye can persuade the cat to stand on 
 her hind legs till I come back ; " and in saying these words, our 
 hero, with a smirking nod, whisked out of the room, leaving 
 Mordaunt equally astonished at his humour and familiarity- 
 distrusting his prudence, while he admired his promptitude. 
 
 Andrew went directly to Sir Thomas's ; and, on the servant 
 telling the baronet that a young man desired to speak with him 
 on very particular business, he at once obtained an audience. 
 
 Sir Thomas was a tall, meagre, hard-favoured personage, 
 verging towards his grand climacteric. He had little of the 
 general appearance of a country gentleman, except in the fresh- 
 ness of his complexion ; indeed, he had never cared much for 
 field sports, nor for those kind of exercises so contributory to 
 that hearty obstreperous corpulency, which is commonly deemed 
 the most remarkable characteristic of the regular members of a 
 county quorum. The baronet, in fact, was, in his own opinion, 
 
CHAPTER XL. — A SCIENTIFIC BAEONET. 
 
 195 
 
 }wn opinion, 
 
 a man of science; but whether he excelled most in botany, 
 mechanics, chemistry, astronomy, mathematics, or metaphysics, 
 he had never ascertained) having no neighbours who understood 
 even the meaning of the terms. But, undoubtedly, his profi- 
 ciency must have been very extraordinary ; for he had several 
 times read all the books in his library which related to these 
 sciences, amounting to nearly a hundred volumes, part of the col- 
 lection of his maternal ancestor, Dr Gropingwit, who flourished 
 in the Augustan reign of Queen Anne — as Sir Thomas often 
 said of him, " A most learned man, having been one of the con- 
 temporaries of the great Sir Isaac Newton." To this collection, 
 the baronet himself had made no additions ; judiciously obser- 
 ving, when any new book relative to his private studies was 
 accidentally mentioned, " Those that drink at the fountain head 
 can never relish the waters of the polluted stream." And then 
 he was wont to spout with a sounding voice, and a most tragical 
 emphasis, both of look and gesture, the following verses from 
 Chaucer : — 
 
 " Out of the old fleldes, as man saith, 
 Cometh the now corn fro year to year; 
 And out of ol<l books, in good faith, 
 Cometh all new science that men lere." 
 
 His favourite passage, however, from the poets, was the open- 
 ing to Young's Night Thoughts, which he repeated sometimes 
 on a Sunday evening to his sister, Miss Lucretia, with so much 
 slow solemnity, that sleep, in propria persona^ generally paid 
 her a vbit before he got to the cadence of 
 
 " Lights on lids unsullied with a tear." 
 
 At the close of which, he was wont to give an awful stroke on 
 tlie table, as with the melancholious hand of fate ; and Miss 
 Lucretia as regularly then awoke, and said, " Brother, what's 
 the clock?" 
 To this he as regularly replied with a smile of compassion, 
 
 " We take no note of time, 
 To give it then a tongue was wiso in man." 
 
 But lifting his watch from the table at his elbow, he subjoined, 
 " Ring for tea." 
 
196 
 
 SIK ANDREW WYLI£. 
 
 CHAPTER XLI. 
 
 A KEMONSTRAIfCE. 
 
 Andrew, when shown into the baronet's parlour, was rather 
 startled at his appearance. Sir Thomas was reading in an arm- 
 chair, with his feet on the fender; his clothes had been hastily 
 huddled on— a condition that could not be altogether fairly 
 attributed to having hurriedly dressed himself on account of the 
 sharpness of the weather, for in all seasons he breakfasted in 
 that state, and sat till about twelve o'clock. His stockings were 
 loose, his knees unbuttoned, his neckcloth untied, and a slovenly 
 grey duffle morning-coat carelessly invested the generality of 
 his figure ; while an old fur cap had succeeded his nightcap, 
 and was destined, when the sun passed the meridian, to be sup- 
 planted in its turn by t. wig. 
 
 " Well, friend," said he to Andrew, looking over his shoulder 
 as our hero entered the room, " what are your commands ? " 
 
 " I hae something that I would say to you," replied our hero ; 
 and he glanced at the venerable Miss Lucretia, who was sitting 
 on the opposite side of the tire, busily employed in examining 
 the weekly bills of the family. This look, if Sir Thomas had 
 observed it, was meant to intimate a wish that the lady might 
 be requested to favour them with her absence ; but it was un- 
 noticed, and Andrew continued, "I believe, sir, ye hae some 
 acquaintance with Mr Mordaunt." 
 
 "I know the gentleman," replied the baronet, closing the 
 book, and looking from under his spectacles as if he expected 
 some/ ling interesting." 
 
 "He's a worthy gentleman," said Andrew, "and T am sure 
 has a great respect for you, and would do ony thing to oblige 
 you in his power." 
 
 "Hem!" ejaculated the baronet; and Miss Lucretia looked 
 
 askance from her household bills towards the sly advocate. " But 
 
 what's the drift of all this, young man?" enquired Sir Thomas, 
 
 laying his book on the table, and taking off hi:, spectacles. 
 
 " Nothing particular, Sir Thomas ; but only as he's a good 
 
CHAPTER XLI. — A EEMONSTRANCE. 
 
 197 
 
 frien' to me, I wish him weel, and would fain hope that things 
 are no past remedy between him and you ; for if that's the case, 
 he's a gone diek — a dead man, as the saying is — and I doubt his 
 death-ill will lie at your door, Sir Thomas." 
 
 The baronet looked in some degree of amazement; and Miss 
 Lucretia, in her turn, glanced her inquisitive eyes first at our 
 hero, and then on her brother. 
 
 Andrew saw their anxiety, and concluded that Sir Thomas 
 meant to signify he thought him insane ; for he observed him 
 touching his forehead as he ocularly replied to Miss Lucretia's 
 ocular interrogation. However, none disconcerted, he intrepidly 
 continued, " But I'm sure. Sir Thomas, that it's no in your 
 nature to harm the hair o' a dog, far less a gentleman that has 
 a great regard for you and all your family ; especially for your 
 dochter. Miss Julia." 
 
 Miss Lucretia abandoned the investigation of her bills, and, 
 pushing back her chair from the table, sat in upright astonish- 
 ment. The baronet's under-lip fell down, and it would be diffi- 
 cult to say whether his eyes or mouth most strongly expressed 
 the wondering of his spirit. 
 
 " Ye maunna be surprised, Sir Thomas, at what Tm saying, 
 for it's a truth that Mr Mordaunt's in a state of great distress o' 
 mind ; and he's my friend, and I canna but try to serve him. 
 But he says, Sir Thomas, you're sucl: a man of your word, that 
 I have no hope ye'll ever consent to give him your dochter. To 
 that, however, sir, I answered, that surely i were a rational 
 man, and would hearken to rationality." 
 
 " What's your name ? " enquired the baronet. 
 
 " My name's Andrew Wylie." 
 
 " And did Mr Mordaunt send you to speak on the subject to 
 me?" resumed Sir Thomas. 
 
 " No, sir ; he was confounded when I offered to come ; but 
 better to hae a finger off than aye aching. There was nae need 
 that he should pine oiiy huigcr in pain, or you. Sir Thomas, live 
 m anxiety, lest Miss Julia and him should rin awa' to Gretna 
 Green ; for the sicklike has been before. I'm sure this sensible 
 leddy here kens that ye're running a dreadful risk of an elope- 
 ment." 
 
198 
 
 SIB ANDKKW WTLIE. 
 
 
 j; I know nothing about it !" exclaimed Miss Lucretia with an 
 indignant snort. ^" 
 
 " Nae offence, madam, I hope," replied Andrew; " but I'm 
 rera sure ye wouldna, ony mair than Sir Thomas himsel' lik^ 
 see M.SS Julia and Mr Mordaunt Jehuing awa' in a chat and 
 fou, and you and her father flying like twa desperate tige" afte 
 them, and no able to catch them." 
 
 "Why, friend," said the baronet, " this seems to be a very 
 singular interfercBce on your part-I don't understand it. IIow 
 came Mr Mordaunt to consult you in an affair of this sort ? " 
 
 rpnr 1 u ' ^'^ '^''"™'''' ^""^ '"^ *^ ^« "^y ^^ trumpeter ? - 
 replied our hero significantly. ^ 
 
 .1 '7\^^' in P.?.' ^" '"'^ ^^ ^^^ ^"^'"^^^ ^^ once, ray word is 
 pledged to Mr Bircldand." ^ 
 
 "So Mr Mordaunt said. But ye maun just break your word 
 S.r Thomas; for a broken word's naething toa brokJn heart."' 
 
 sui^^crii^cfrt::;::^^^"^^-^-^^^^^ 
 
 " We'll hae twa words about that, Sir Thomas. I dinna think 
 noo baronet, that ye're just such a contumacious man as to bo 
 out o the reach o' reason a' thegither, or I wouldna speak to you 
 as I do, but help the lad and lass to be man and wife wi' JelZ 
 dient abil ty. Therefore Sir Thomn„ . , ^ 
 
 mitfPrwifi, o , ^' ^'^ Ihomas, ye maun consider this 
 
 matter w th a cool and a sound mind, an ye hae ony pretensions 
 gumption at a'; for it's no past the bounds o' probabiH Hha 
 some „,orn.ng or lang ye may rant and ring fo" your doclter 
 
 dttiur." ^'"^^ ^^^'"•^""^^^' ^" y- --^"- in this co:;;s 
 
 , '' ^TJ^^'t^T ""'"" *" ^'''' '"^ '" this manner to give my 
 consent ? said the baronet angrily. ^ ^ 
 
 " I'm sure ,'• replied Andrew, " that I see nae forcing about it. 
 But If ye will gar your dochter marry a man she doesna 1 ke, 
 wM omfort will ye get frae your dure word of honour, an ye 
 hear ,n Ie.s tnan a week after the wedding, a' the big wi.., o' 
 i^octois Commons in a commotion r* ^~ ' 
 
 princTorei^'^lf •" '? Ir?'"' '' ™>^ ^'-'^^^ter's honour and 
 principles ! exclaimed the baronet wrathfully 
 
 Vera true; but, Sir Thomas, ye ken marriages are made in 
 
CHAPTER XLI. — A BEMONSTBANCE. 
 
 199 
 
 [iucretia with an 
 
 rew ; « but I'm 
 las himsel', like 
 i' in a cliaise and 
 Tate tigers after 
 
 IS to be a very 
 rstand it. IIow 
 f this sort ? " 
 in trumpeter?" 
 
 Be, nay -word is 
 
 eali your word, 
 •roken heart." 
 urther on this 
 
 I dinna think 
 ! man as to be 
 a speak to you 
 ife wi' a' expe- 
 
 consider this 
 ny pretensions 
 •obability that 
 your dochter, 
 this contrarie 
 
 er to give my 
 
 cing about it. 
 •■ doesna like, 
 onour, an ye 
 3 bier wio-s n' 
 
 honour and 
 
 are made in 
 
 heaven, and it's plainly ordain't that Miss Julia and Mr Mor- 
 daunt were trysted there by their mutual affection ; and ye're 
 lighting against the laws o' God when ye would try to set aside 
 this natural attraction or affinity o' their spirits." 
 
 This touched the philosophy of the baronet, and opened to him 
 a view of the subject that had never presented itself to him before, 
 and he said, "Are you acquainted with the Newtonian philo- 
 sophy ? " 
 
 " 'Deed no, sir ; I never fash my head wi' sic havers ; for if a 
 man's void o' common sense, I wonder what the wiser he'll be 
 wi' philosophy. Can philosophy mend a club-foot, or put 
 understanding in a toom head ? — I doubt not. Truly, sir, it 
 behoves you to think on what I hae said. Firstly, there may 
 be an elopement ; secondly, there may be worse ; and thirdly, 
 and assuredly, one way or another, there will be a broken heart, 
 and the sin and blame o' a' will rest on your head. Talk o' words 
 o' honour in a case like this! What's a word o' honour mair 
 than ony ither word ? It's just wind. Sir Thomas ; and if ye'U 
 tak my advice, the sooner ye break it ye'll be the easier. O 
 Sir Thomas, ye look like a man that has something fatherly in 
 you! But think o' auld doited Jeptha; what did he get by his 
 rash vow? What consolation was it to him to see his lovely 
 daughter lying in her winding sheet? Words o' honour, Sir 
 Thomas?— Snuffs o' tobacco. But I'll sae nae mair at present, 
 I see ye're prickit. O Sir Thomas ! Sir Thomas ! ther-^'s nae 
 plaster for a wounded conscience, nor solder for a broken heart. 
 It will be an awfu' thing when ye lie down to die, to think o' the 
 shame or misery o' your only daughter ; and that but for your own 
 outstrapalous obstinacy, ye might hae left her in felicity, or 
 been laying your hand in prayer on the heads o' her bonny wee 
 bairnies, a' greeting like bleating lambies at your bedside. 
 Think o' that. Sir Thomas — think o' that; and if ye can then 
 set yourself up against the laws o' God and nature wi' your daft 
 words o' honour, I ken mysel' what's the name that will best 
 fit you." 
 
 The ascendency which our hero here assumed, and uncon- 
 sciously felt, produced a profound effect on the baronet's mind 
 and heart. He rose from his seat and walked across the room ; 
 
200 
 
 'Otitis 
 
 SIR ANDBE^v WYIIE. 
 
 he halted and looked at Anrfrpw • ha +i,„^ 
 thoughts inwardly, andl^a^nt^i '^^^ ^l^ 
 
 at last he said, " to come to me." Mordaunt," 
 
 " That's a man," exclaimed Andrew « non voVn ri 
 
 like S,r nomas ; it's the source o' a' delight and comfort in ,w! 
 
 -TiSm's::i-„Ttro,-;c;^^^^^^^^^^^ 
 
 CHAPTER XLII. 
 
 ENCOCnAOEJIENT. 
 
 A FEW days after this interview, Andrew found a letter from 
 his grandmother, which the master had wWff^. ri ,• 
 It related chiefly to some sn^att^h rsh^w^tr;^^ 
 but It contained a postscript from Tannyhill L^el CS 
 gave hxm more pleasure-he could not tell why-Z L" te 
 :!TnZT '''''' ''''-'' ''-''''' *''™"^^^ 'he other Tm;': 
 Mary Cunningham, who by this time had returned a full- 
 
 •ng and that ho must do all he can ti male his ™, IT '„' 
 .00.,, or majhe M change my mind. Say, HI m have hin, 
 unless he come in his own coach and four" 
 The master was amused with the freedom of the playful rattle, 
 
CHAPTER XLII.— ENCOURAGEMENT. 201 
 
 and literally wrote down the message as it had been delivered 
 adding from himself, by way of news, " William Cunningham' 
 her brother, has gone into the army, much to the grief and dis- 
 pleasure of his aunt, who regarded him as the last of the male 
 line of the family. As for the laird," continued the master, 
 "hes just daunering about the doors in his old way, with his 
 hands, as you first noticed, in his pouches ; but he's a blameless 
 body, and since his last increase, by the renewed tacks of the 
 Braehead and the Loupingstane farms, he has been very kind 
 to the poor, having divided five load of victual among all the 
 needful in the parish." 
 
 While our hero was reading this epistle, Charles Pierston 
 chanced to call, and said, on hearing the paragraph— for he had 
 now begun to speak with an English accent— "Why this is 
 frank enough ? " 
 
 " Hoot, Charlie," replied Andrew, « ye ken very weel I durst 
 never even mysel' to Craiglands' only daughter; and ye may 
 see through her blethers that she's making a fool o' me NiL 
 na, man-Mary Cunningham's setting her cap for a soldier- 
 officer m gold lace. The very sight of sic a puddock as me 
 in the capacity of a joe, would gar her kick me ouer on my 
 back wi' her tae." '' 
 
 "Love is blind," replied Pierston ;" "and who knows but she 
 may think you a likely, handsome fellow." 
 
 "If she did," cried Andrew, half seriously, "I would think 
 her a terrible tawpy-and Pm sure I would as soon stick a rose 
 in my bosom wi' a kailworm in't, as take the bonniest lass that 
 ever was seen for my wife, that could be guilty o' ony sic haveril 
 
 From the time that our hero had been invited to Sandyford 
 House, Charles had remarked a change in his deportment for 
 which he could not account, Andrew never having mentioned 
 either that circumstance or the masquerade. It had, however 
 the effect of producing a feeling of deference to his opinions,' 
 •••'hich he could not overcome. Wylie bore his raillery as ffaily 
 as ever; but there was a self-command, and a pith in some of 
 his observations, which begot a respect that unconsciously made 
 Charles feel himself the inferior, in spite of all his fasUonable 
 
202 
 
 SIE ANDREW WTLIE. 
 
 
 1*^ ' 
 
 dash and figure. This feeling, however, was unmixed with any 
 of that invidious alloy, which the secret sense of inferiority com- 
 monly produces in mean and sordid minds; for Plerston was 
 naturally frank-hearted, and there was something In the char- 
 acter of his friend which he liked, even while he could not 
 restrain his disposition to laugh at him. 
 
 ^ Why a youth in Andrew's station should have concealed from 
 his companion the honour conferred on him by Lord Sandyford, 
 we shall not attempt to explain. It may be that he thought 
 Charles would suspect that he had been invited merely to make 
 amusement— a humiliating consideration— or perhaps, judging 
 from the ambitious love of show in his friend, he might appre- 
 bend that he would teaze him to procure his admission to the 
 same fashionable parties. In either case his silence was pru- 
 dent; and, if the result of the latter consideration, it did credit 
 to his sagacity. But this is an abstruse subject, and it is quite 
 enough for us to state the fact; and also, that for some other 
 good and substantial reason best known to himself, Andrew also 
 as carefully concealed from Charles the amount of the extraor- 
 dinary salary which the earl had so generously obtained for him. 
 This circumstance occasioned Pierston, after the observation 
 which we have quoted, to say, "By the way, Andrew, you have 
 never told me the amount of 'the wage,' as you call it, which 
 has enabled you to be so liberal to your grandmother— How 
 much is it?" 
 
 " It's no under a hundred pounds," replied Andrew, apparently 
 in a careless manner. 
 
 « I doubt," said Charles, " if it do not greatly exceed, the coach 
 and four will b j long of coming forward." 
 
 Andrew la'.ghed, and said, " A plack wi' me Charlie, will aye 
 gang as far • ,s a pound wi' you— and I'm no fear't." 
 
 " True," cried Pierston ; " for I have no Mary Cunningham 
 to make me grip and gather." 
 
 ^^ " Now, Charlie," again exclaimed Andrew a little pettishly, 
 " I dinna like that— an I were her equal ye mijrht crack voiir 
 jokes; but it's no a friend's turn to tell me in that gait, that 
 poverty has debarred me from looking so high, even though I 
 had been as braw and as crouse as yoursel'." 
 
 X" . 
 
CHAPTER XLII. — ENCOURAGEMENT. 
 
 203 
 
 " Upon my conscience," replied Pierston, laughing, " I had no 
 notion ye were so far gone. The fellow's honestly and simply 
 in love." 
 
 Andrew reddened, and said sharply, " An I were sae, which I 
 am not, ye might spare me your jeers, considering the impossi- 
 bilities between us." 
 
 " Poo, poo !" cried Charhs. " Faint heart never won fair 
 lady— and wit, which you do not want, both in the stratagems 
 of love and war, is worth a w^ell- turned leg." 
 
 " What taught you to proverb sae glibbly the auld tale o' 
 Beauty and the Beast?" said Andrew, not displeased by the 
 observation. " But, Charlie, to make an end o' a' debate c-- the 
 subject, ye'll really oblige me by never speaking o' Marj Cun- 
 ningham; for ye ken as well as I do, that no lassie would be so 
 free wi' ony young lad, if she had the least spunk of affection for 
 him." 
 
 " Well, well !" exclaimed Pierston, " but get twenty thousand 
 pounds as fast as ye can, and then away to the Craiglands ; where, 
 if ye speak auld crabbit Miss Mizy fair, I'll tet ten to one that 
 there have been more hopeless speculations than your chance 
 with Mary." 
 
 Andrew made no answer for some time to this, but sat pur- 
 sing his mouth for about a minute, when ho said, " She wouldna 
 tak me wi' twenty thousand pounds, and that's mair than I can 
 noo hope for.'' 
 
 " Noo !" cried Charles, « why noo ?— what has happened to 
 make the likelihood less than it was ?" 
 
 Andrew had alluded, in his own mind, to the termination of 
 all further hope and expectancy with Lord Sandyford ; but not 
 choosing to explain himself, he said carelessly, " Atweel, I dinna 
 ken what for I should think niysel' less likely noo than before, 
 of getting twenty thousand pounds— and with this observation 
 tlie interview ended. 
 
 Pierston, however, paid but little regard to the injunction with 
 respect to Mary Cunningham ; on the contrary, he took every 
 opportunity of rallying Andrew more and more. And an event 
 had already taken place, that was calculated to verify some of 
 
I*';u 
 
 KH' 
 
 SM 
 
 SIB ANDREW WTLIE. 
 
 the jocular predictions wl.ich he was in the practice of sportino- 
 on me subject. " 
 
 Mfff' 
 
 CHAPTER XLIir. 
 
 INSIGHT. 
 
 _ On the Sunday foUowing, after the conversation describ-,! 
 in the preceding chapter, Charles Pierston called again on his 
 fnend, and with a look pregnant with merry mischief, said, on 
 entenng, Now, Andrew, ye must promise no to be angry with 
 
 r r M .''" ^'°" "'^'- ^^""'y Cunningham's in london. 
 
 Her brother has been wounded in one of the late battles, and 
 
 shes come up, with Miss Mizy, to nurse him; for he's not in 
 
 a condition to be removed to Scotland." 
 
 To have judged by the expression of our hero's countenance, 
 It would not have been thought that he received any pleasure 
 from these tidings ; ioc he looked confused, and his colour went 
 and came. 
 
 "Poor Willy Cunningham," said he, "was a clever warm- 
 hearted callan.^ I'm sorry for his hurt, and I hope it's no deadly." 
 But Mary is grown most beautiful," said Pierston waggishly. 
 She dined with her aunt at my uncle's yesterday Lord 
 
 w^vT'^r"; '"' ^'''" ^'' " P"'° ''^" y' ^'' 1'^^-' She enquired 
 very kindly for you; and I promised to let you know where 
 they are ai lodgings, for she expects you will call " 
 
 " I hae no occasion," said x\ndrew, with great simplicity. 
 V\ hy you simpleton, have you no regard for your old school- 
 tellowi^ I have come on purpose this moriu.g' (, t,' e you with 
 me Cunningham w ill be glad to see yo^ ; ami Isi:, . Mizy her- 
 self bade me say, that she has long forgiven the aevUiy o' the 
 pyet. 
 
 " And I hae forgiven her, too," replied Andrew ; « for it was 
 onto' that I got the fifty psalms by heart." ^orit was 
 
,ctice of sportino- 
 
 r ; " for it was 
 
 CHAPTER XLIIl.— ixs.GHT. 205 
 
 "O, very well!" exclaimed Pier-ton • "if vr.,, ,i u i-i 
 ivar o't, I'm sure it's no business of mine • buf Miss Cu ' '" 
 ham is a fine spirited girl, and if von In'!' ™* ^^^^'^ <^f "^ng" 
 takcn out of your hands '' ^ ' '"'^' ^''**^' ^^^'" ^« 
 
 "This is wicked havers, Charlie," cried Andrew in a shorf 
 and shnll peevish accent, as if he had been pricked;! h needled 
 I mm no condition o' life to even mysel' to her, and tha; 
 should cork your gab. But, howsomever, I'll bo ilad to ro 
 With you to see Willy; and I hope his sifter may bVou for 
 she s as thoughtless as yoursel', and ne'er devalds jfering me " 
 Then come with me ; and if she should be out " said PW 
 
 Pierston pretended to remark, that he seemed to take a Httl. 
 more pa.„s than usual with his appearance, andlL,* ' C It 
 
 changed your tailor and bnT ^ ' *''"' ^^^ ^""^'^ ^""''^ 
 " SU's fbr ;. . u'^ '"°'' 'P'"'' «°^t ^^' Sunday." 
 
 pawkUy 4nkL:'ofT/' *'" ^"^*' ^^^^^^^^^" ^^^^ our hero 
 pawKUy, linking of the parties where it had been often worn 
 
 but :e neJctt^Lryett^ t^;,,^^^^^^^^^^^ J.^"- mys. 
 yet." • " maun ocrvt: lur six mouths 
 
 AndS""' ""^^ ""^^ '''" ^^^'•^ "^ the original penury of 
 Andrews circumstance, and respected the firmLss of hTsTha 
 
Pi'' Si' I 
 
 
 
 »j- 
 
 Ijjl^. 
 
 i^-i 
 
 »iawi? 
 
 206 
 
 SIR ANDREW WTLIB. 
 
 racter, did not push his raillery further on his appearance and 
 dress, llad he, however, been acquainted with the actual 
 amount of his income, he would have despised him as one of 
 the most sordid of mortals. 
 
 In their way to Cunningham's lodgings, he informed him 
 that his uncle intended to place him in business on his own 
 account, and hoped that in time he might have it in his power 
 to be of some use to Andrew. There was both pride and kind- 
 ness in this ; but our hero felt only the warmth of the latter 
 sentiment. 
 
 In this sort of conversation they reached Sackville Street, 
 where they found the Cunninghams in the second floor of the 
 same house where Mordaunt lodged. Pierston was a little mor- 
 tified to find them so far aloft, and blamed " the haining heart" 
 of Miss Mizy ; alleging that it was unworthy of people of their 
 fortune to be so meanly accommodated. Andrew, without dis- 
 senting from this opinion, was pleased with the circumstance ; 
 because, by his accjuaintance with Mordaunt, it gave him an 
 opportunity of being indirectly seen, as it were, by Mary Cun- 
 ningham, on a vantage ground that he could not otherwise have 
 so easily reached. And with a view to this, while he sent 
 Charles up stairs before him, he stepped into the drawing-room, 
 where Mordaunt was at the time sitting, engaged on some 
 papers connected with the arrangements for his marriage, which 
 was to take place in the course of the following week. 
 
 Mordaunt, whose admiration of oiu* hero's address and dis- 
 cernment was raised to the utmost by the happy efl\3cts of his 
 remonstrance with Sir Thomas, received him with the greatest 
 pleasure, saying, " I consider myself, Wylie, so much indebted 
 to you, that I beg you will count me among your friends ; and 
 when at any time you can point out in what way it is in my 
 power to serve you, I trust and expect you will claim the fulfil- 
 ment of this promise." 
 
 At such a time, and when Andrew was on the point of visit- 
 ing Mary Cunningham, this assurance came to him like an 
 inspiring air ; and he said, " Whenever the time arrived that 
 he might go into business on his own account, he would take 
 the freedom of then applying to him." 
 
 r. 
 
CHAPTER XLIir. — INSIGHT. 
 
 207 
 
 IS appearance and 
 
 with the actual 
 
 ed him as one of 
 
 he informed him 
 iness on his own 
 re it in his power 
 h pride and kind- 
 mth of the latter 
 
 Sackville Street, 
 3cond floor of the 
 
 was a little mor- 
 le haining heart" 
 of people of their 
 rew, without dis- 
 he circumstance; 
 , it gave him an 
 e, by Mary Cun- 
 ot otherwise have 
 s, while he sent 
 le drawing-room, 
 ngaged on some 
 1 marriage, which 
 J week. 
 
 address and dis- 
 )py effects of his 
 tvith the greatest 
 much indebted 
 our friends ; and 
 
 way it is in my 
 
 claim the fulfil- 
 
 le point of visit- 
 to hira like an 
 me arrived that 
 :, he would take 
 
 Mordaunt on this reiterated his promise, and declared that 
 he should not only have him for a client, but that he would 
 never lose a proper occasion to speak of his merits and abilities. 
 
 Andrew, with this assurance of prosperity in hereafter, left 
 Mordaunt, and with a light foot mounted the stairs to the sit- 
 ting-room above; where, knocking with his knuckle, he was 
 immediately admitted by Mary Cunningham herself. Charles 
 Pierston was in the room with her ; and it was evident, from the 
 excessive interjections of joy with which she received him, that 
 they had been contriving some mirthful salutation. But 
 although, in the first moment of meeting, this was plainly the 
 case, there was in her manner, almost immediately after, a sen- 
 timent of unaffected pleasure towards him, of a more moderate, 
 but deeper kind; and she treated him with something very like 
 tliat cheerful and pure affection which subsists between a brother 
 and a sister. She expressed her satisfaction that he had been so 
 fortunate to obtain the gocd-will of his master, and spoke to 
 him of the love and interest which his grandmother showed to 
 him, and of her honest pride at every little token of his affec- 
 tion. But there was something like a feeling of condescension 
 in this kindness, that he liked less than her banter. And though 
 more put out of countenance, he was yet much better pleased, 
 when she reminded him of several little village-anecdotes, and 
 described his ludicrous appearance behind the tombstone con- 
 ning his psalms. 
 
 But this momentary embarrassment was relieved by the 
 entrance of Miss Mizy, who came out of Cunningham's bed- 
 room with an air of prodigious conscquentiality, addressing 
 herself with a simper to Pierston, who could with difficulty keep 
 his gravity, while she glanced askance at our hero, as on a 
 creature of an inferior order of beings. Many things had 
 occurred to convert Andrew's dislike of Miss^Mizy's super- 
 ciliousness into contempt; and with a degree of nonchalance 
 that neither Mary nor Pierston could withstand he. said 
 "Eh dear! Miss Mizy, but ye'ro looking auld like— 1 couldna 
 hae thought that in sae short a time there would hae been sic 
 a change." 
 
 The elderly gentlewoman did not well know what reply to 
 
208 
 
 
 
 
 Ir '1, 
 
 
 SIR ANDREW WYLIE. 
 
 make to this most iri-everent salutation; but at last she said 
 tartly, "It's no the case wi' thee, Wheelie, for thou's just the 
 same wee blackent-like taid as when you left the Stoneyholm." 
 
 "Ay, Miss Mizy," said Andrew, "neither you nor me can 
 help our looks. We're baith made by the hand of God, and the 
 art o' man canna mend us." 
 
 "Thou was aye a sorrowfu' laddie," cried Miss Mizy, both 
 nettled and diverted by this address; for, with all her acrid 
 humour, she was not insensible to the influence of Andrew's 
 drollery. "And they would need lang spoons that sup wi' the 
 de il. Ilowsomever, I'm glad to see thee looking sae weel, and 
 to hear o thy weel-doing." And she then proposed that Andrew 
 should adjourn to see his old schoolfellow. 
 
 Time, which had not improved the charms of Miss Mizy had 
 wrought a great change on Cunningham. He was grown'into 
 a fine manly figure, and his profession had brought out and 
 confirmed the bold and decisive features of his character 
 His wound, however, confined him to his couch, and he could 
 only welcome Andrew with a generous shake of the hand— ex- 
 pressmg his admiration at the unchanged simplicity of his 
 appearance. 
 
 Mary, who had accompanied our hero into her brother's 
 apartment, still harping on the old theme,* reminded them of the 
 pyet-plot, and joked with .indrew on the loss of his first love 
 Maggy. ' 
 
 _ Experience of the world, the freedom, it may be the licen- 
 tiousness of a military life, had given Cunningham a knowledge 
 of womankind above his years, and he looked sharply for a 
 moment at his sister, in such a manner as brought a blush into 
 her cheek that spread over her neck and bosom; nothing, how- 
 ever, further passed-for the necessity that Cunningham was 
 under on account of his wounds, of remaining undisturbed, 
 obliged them to leave the room, and return to that in which 
 Miss Mizy and Pierston were sitting. Andrew did not resume 
 !ii9, scat, but nodding a good moniii.g, moved to go away. In 
 turmng round, his eye caught several cards on the mantelpiece; 
 a,nd, among others, he observed an invitation, sticking ostcnta- 
 tiously behind the glass, from his friend the Duchess of Dash- 
 
CHAPTER XLIV. — STBATAGEMS. 
 
 209 
 
 ingwell; but he said nothing. The moment, however, that he 
 got into the street, he contrived to shake of Pierston, and went 
 immediately to pay his respects to her grace. 
 
 CHAPTER XLIV. 
 
 STRATAGEMS. 
 
 Andrew, from their first meeting, had continued a great 
 favourite with the duchess ; but having, from motives of dehcacy 
 towards Lord and Lady Sandyford, abstained from the parties 
 of their friends, her grace began to wonder what had become of 
 him, and his reception, in consequence, was unusually free and 
 cordial. After the buoyancy and gladdenings of her joyous 
 welcome had subsided, she requested that he would make a point 
 of coming to her ball— the same to which Miss Cunningham 
 and her aunt were invited. 
 
 "I'll do that, my leddy duchess, with the greatest pleasure," 
 was his answer ; " for there's a young lady frae the same country- 
 side wi' me, that I understand is likely to be there." 
 
 "And pray who is that?" cried her grace, looking a little 
 slyly, and not a little surprised at the reason. 
 
 "Miss Cunningham," was the reply; and there was a degree 
 of diffidence in the tone in which it was said, that still more 
 excited the curiosity of the duchess, who immediately ex- 
 claimed — 
 
 "On my conscience, Wylie, you are a man of infinite taste, 
 as well as jest. She is very beautiful, and possesses an air of life 
 and fashion uncommon for a country girl." 
 
 " She's weel cneugh an' she be gudc," said Andrew, half 
 blushing, and with an affected simplicity, seemingly intended 
 to parry the mirthful malice \^h\rh iio saw her grace was mus- 
 tering for an assault, but in reality to inveigle her into his 
 mterests ; for ho knew that the open and blithe heartiness of her 
 
 8 
 
11 
 
 A*"- 
 
 
 w 
 
 I it i 
 
 210 
 
 SIB ANDREW WriilE. 
 
 disposition would, if once engaged on his side, make little scrunle 
 m setting him off to the best advantage ^ 
 
 M^lSLr '--^"^'^ "^"- '-^ ^-« ^- ^-n 
 " Oh, ever since we were bairns !" 
 "Bairns!" cried the duchess. 
 
 "It's a perfect truth," repUed Andrew ; « her father was thp 
 axrd, and I'm but a cottar's son-so I woddna hae .^ufoncv 
 St. rf "^' '^ '''^ '' "^^^ M^- Cunningham at S 
 
 tTetTft^'tr^Sir "^ ^" ^"^^ ^^^^^ ^^^^ Cunningham-that's 
 " Weel, my leddy uuchess, an' I should be sae, I canna heln 
 xt- he cat may look at the king," replied our hero, '"fiut 5^ 
 ae thing, your graoe, for a man to admiro, and another hil 
 for a woman to admire; and it's no reasonably to pec tS 
 ever Miss Cunningham would have any thing more than t 
 kindly condescension of an old friend towards m " "" 
 
 Now Wyhe," said the duchess in a firmer tone, and with a 
 
 great mmd to be angry. How dare you, in this cunning man- 
 
 ner try to make me your confident? for you know verv7e?i 
 
 ha a woman once in the secret of a lovef, must neertak ^ 
 
 ge thebrk^roT fT'"^^^ '™"''- y-"-k if you could 
 geUhe backing of a duchess it might further your suit." 
 
 Your grace, cried Andrew, interrupting her, "is cuttin^r 
 
 for before the point. I never had ony sic tlioug t, my k dy 
 
 It can scarcely be questioned that her grace was right in her 
 
CHAPTER XLIV.— STRATAGEMS. 
 
 211 
 
 : Andrew was actuated 
 
 conjecture, and 
 in the opinion 
 
 deeply; but that 1. s\:;;5'raVrre3rfo 7'"' ''!''' '"^ 
 the duchess's rank would ever be S^Uo t^"^^ " ^^'^^^ ^^ 
 or to feel any symnathv in h;« n TI ^""^^ """^ '"'^"-est, 
 ridiculous. He^Td Xet Te."^ 'If' 
 
 l^now, that below a certain degree the ™t f.k .- ^"'^"^ '" 
 of rank; and that the laird oTrt!;,^? "*" ''''^'"'"°"« 
 cottar's son, considered ffom si rf/?'"^ """^ *he 
 lity as that o( her grace would seir^^^r^f ^'""^'^^^ °^ "^^i- 
 inequality either !f raik or c ^^^^^^^ '!" --ry striking 
 aware that the familiarity wthS. iffl ? f' "'^ '""^ 
 treated by the duchess, haLrtLvsLl .'''" ''"'^'^ 
 the humbleness of his' birth S p rl ap fn^a^^^^ "'"' 
 of their intercourse, have occasioned tl V ? ''''^''' ''"^^ 
 whether we are att;ibuti:gTir 1^1^^^^^^^^^^ 
 re% practised, or ascribine to th.- rf,„.l,„.. ," '"' 
 
 than she possessed, it is certfin t, "tit" I Zin ""'"°°' 
 with wlial we linve stated of hoil, . 7 , ° ™"™'""o 
 
 irresistibly e„«ed in i^s LS^ ^L'^u ''°""" '""" 
 after leaving tl.e duchess hp.„.™liT, • ' "™™i^ation, 
 
 spin-t, the tifst ™:itSe„\T:hi i: :,"„™: f '''* " "^i- 
 :T2 t'5,*'"' ;*"""°- '-™. w V?; flS 
 
 ttiTh:^trr7.=r^-'--£o- 
 
 U,e_^. counterpart of the suit he had ori^;;:;;^:^ IZ 
 
 l*s a,„.s have to .^o'^prr 'of' ttleSL: ^I^ 
 at the first glance, the change in hi, garb: and sad.],:, T' 
 
 ™-«d aud entered the tn.,tal'i:; I X"' ar^ff Z 
 
 -lun, ... app'uaching towards the duchos.'i, she was so ,fn,.tl i 
 
 harttj, that she beeamo confused, and blushed, and seen,e<l 
 
212 
 
 SIR ANDREW WTLIE. 
 
 
 utterly at a loss to express the few simple common-places 
 requisite for the occasion. 
 
 The keen-sighted duchess saw htr confusion, and gave Andrew 
 a pinch between the shoulders ; while, with her wonted urbanity, 
 she said, " My dear Miss Cunningham, I am so rejoiced you are 
 come; for my friend, Mr Wylie here, has been beseeching me to get 
 him a partner for the next dance, so earnestly, that I was driven 
 to my wit's end. He is such a creature, that unless he obtains 
 one of the very finest women wherever he goes, he will not 
 dance at all." 
 
 Miss Mizy, who during this speech had recognized Andrew, 
 stooped forward and pried, as it were, into his face, with such 
 curious amazement, that he could with difficulty keep his gravity, 
 while he said, " Dear me, Miss Mizy, is that you ? I thought 
 your dancing days were past." 
 
 " I declare," cried Miss Mizy, turning round to her niece, 
 and stretching herself up into the most lofty posture of con- 
 sequentiality, " it's that whittret Wylie !" 
 
 Mary by this time had a little recovered the emotion of her 
 first surprise ; and while she clung, as it were alarmed, to her 
 aunt, in passing from the duchess she said, " Wheclie, I'll be as 
 plain as I'm pleasant — mind, you're no to expect me to dance with 
 you." 
 
 " It's vera weel o' you, Miss Mary," replied Andrew pawkily, 
 " to tak the first word o' flyting ; but ye should first ken whether 
 ye're come up to my mark or no." 
 
 Mary bit her lips and blushed. There was a confidence in 
 this retort that made her feel the inferiority of her feminine 
 bravery ; and, for the first time, she was affected with an inde- 
 scribable embarrassment towards Andrew. He, however, con- 
 tinued at her side ; and, as he was well acquainted with many of 
 the most distingulslied guests. Miss Mizy was delighted they had 
 fallen in with him ; for, unaccustomed to large and general com- 
 panies, she was peculiarly susceptible to that disagreeable feeling 
 of insi'jnificance which the unknown multitudes of London uni- 
 formly awaken in strangers from the country. 
 
 When Andrew had paraded the rooms with them for some time, 
 and enjoyed his ovation, he enquired of Mary if she was really 
 
CHAPTER XLIV. — STRATAGEMS. 
 
 213 
 
 ; common-places 
 
 disposed to dance, saying, " I ken vera weel that ye dinna like 
 to hae sic a wee smytch o' a partner as me ; but, for auld lang 
 syne, I'll get you a partner." 
 
 By this time the lady's pride was a little cowed, and she 
 hesitated in her answer. 
 
 " Oh !" said Andrew, " ye necdna be on any ceremony wi' me : 
 for, in trutli, I never dance ; so 111 let you aff for the partnership 
 of her grace's making," 
 
 There was something in the manner in which this was said, 
 and in the look which accompanied the words, that brought the 
 crimson into Miss Cunningham's face. 
 
 " What are ye saying?" exclaimed Miss Mizy, observing the 
 confusion of her niece. 
 
 " Oh, naething!" replied Andrew, « but that I'll get Miss Mary 
 another partner, which will leave me free to dance the Scotch 
 measure or the Blackamoor's jig wi' you. Miss Mizy. Eh ! what 
 a wonder it will be to a' the company to see you and me louping 
 and flinging like the witches in Alloway Kirk !" And after these 
 words he scudded from them through the crowd, towards a young 
 nobleman with whom he was acquainted, equally remarkable 
 for the beauty of his person, his self-conceit, and shallow under- 
 standing, and enquired if he would dance with Miss Cunning- 
 ham. Mary's appearance had by this time attracted the attention 
 of all the men ; and Lord Dimpleton, delighted with the proposal, 
 immediately went with Andrew, and was introduced to the ladies. 
 In choosing such a partner, it is not to be doubted that Andrew 
 had consideration for his lordship's endowments; for in the 
 selection, he paid a compliment to the deccrnment of his mis- 
 tress, with whom, according to the estimate he had formed of 
 her judgment and sense, he judged that neither the rank nor the 
 personal appearance of the young baron would have any preju- 
 dicial influence on his own pretensions— pretensions for the first 
 time felt on that evening, 
 
 Nnthing else particularly occurred during the remainder of 
 tlie night. The two ladies, on account of Cunningham's illness, 
 retired early, and next day, when Andrew called, Mary was 
 cool and distant towards him; Avhile her aunt, on the contrary, 
 received him with marked attention, expressing her wonder and 
 
J ,. 
 
 hi 
 
 ' .1%! WvtH 
 
 i! fi 
 
 214 
 
 SIR ANDREW WYLtE. 
 
 surprise to have found him such a favourite among so many of 
 the nobility. But all the jileasure he derived from thQ altered 
 manners of Miss Mizy, was far more than overbalanced by the 
 cold decorum of Marj^; for he perceived that it was the result of 
 some secret reflection, and that the change was not favourable to 
 his wishes. In one respect, however, it was not discouraging ; 
 foi it seemed to imply that she no longer considered the difference 
 in their condition an insurmountable obstacle to the gratification 
 of those -wishes which he had now seriously begun to entertain. 
 During the remainder of the time that the Cunninghams 
 stayed in London, Andrew frequently called, but no alteration 
 took place in the studied reserve of Mary ; nor did he appear 
 in any instance to presume one step further than he had been 
 accustomed to take. ToAvards Miss Mizy, however, his beha- 
 viour had evidently entirely altered. He took every opportunity 
 of soothing her humour, and flattering her in all the tenderest 
 and most vulnerable parts of her character, till she was thoroughly 
 persuaded that he was one of the wisest and most discerning of 
 mankind — an opinion which she peremptorily asserted whenever 
 Mary affected in his absence to ridicule his person or manners ; 
 adding to the assertion an emphatic prediction, that she was 
 sure he would be ordained Lord Mayor of London ; for he was 
 in a far more likely road to the post than Whittington when 
 greeting wi' his cat in his arms. 
 
 CHAPTER XLV. 
 
 THE FOREST. 
 
 For some time after the Cunninghams left London, nothing 
 particular occurred to our hero. He attended his duty as usual 
 at chambers, and frequently the parties of his fashionable friends. 
 The marriage of Mordaunt took place at the time appointed; 
 and, in addition to a renewal of his promise to give Andrew his 
 business when he commenced on his own account. Sir Thomas 
 
CHAPTER XLV. — THE FOREST. 
 
 215 
 
 on ; for he was 
 littington when 
 
 Beauchamp himself assured him that he might likewise count 
 him among his friends, and claim his best offices as soon as they 
 could be of any use. But no incident gave him more pleasure 
 than a letter from Lord Sandyford, requesting him to come to 
 Chastington Hall for a few days — an invitation which Mr Vel- 
 lum cheerfully allowed him to accept. 
 
 The object which the earl had in view in wishing to see him, 
 was with reference to a settlement which he intended to make 
 on the countess, but which, for some reason that he never 
 explained, he wished to be kept secret even from Vellum. 
 
 Andrew was never fond of travelling post ; nor was he more 
 satisfied with the perilous velocity of stage-coaches. In his 
 jaunt to Chastington Hall, he therefore resolved to take his own 
 way. Accordingly, in the afternoon of the first day's journey, 
 as he intended to sleep that night at the seat of Mordaunt, to 
 whose happiness he had so essentially contributed, he left the 
 coach in which he came from London, and walked forward alone; 
 his portmanteau being, with many injunctions, entrusted to the 
 care of the guard, to be left at the Sandyford Arms— the public- 
 house at the park gate of Chastington Hall. 
 
 His road lay through an open forest, along the bottom of a 
 range of hills beautifully covered with verdure ; but except where 
 here and there sprinkled with sheep, they were lonely and silent. 
 The fantastic forms of some of the old trees were calculated to 
 awaken romantic fancies ; while the pastoral tranquillity of the 
 hills had a sympathetic influence on the mind, and disposed the 
 passing traveller to something like a sense of awe. 
 
 As Andrew was onward plodding his solitary way, he hap- 
 pened, in one of the thickest parts of the wood, to observe a 
 troop of gipsies encamped at the foot of a spacious oak, to a 
 branch of which they had fastened a rope that suspended their 
 kettle. An old and withered hag, in a red cloak, the ancestress, 
 a" she seemed, of the whole gang, was seated near the kettle, 
 endeavouring with her mouth to blow into flame a few sticks 
 and splinters which she had placed under it ; at her side stood a 
 knavish black-eyed urchin peeling onions ; while at some dis- 
 tance a younger female, the mother of the boy, was picking the 
 feathers from a goose that had been missed that morning from 
 
■I 
 
 p 
 
 
 V\r 
 
 216 
 
 SIE ANDREW WTLIE. 
 
 the flock of Justice Stocks on Ganderfleld Common." A child 
 about twelve months old was standing near the grandmother, in 
 a wattled frame, somewhat like a fowl-basket in shape, but 
 without top or bottom ; some ten or a dozen yards further oflF lay 
 a stout ill-favoured young man, in ragged regimentals, asleep on 
 the ground, his head resting on the root of a tree ; while an old 
 churl was engaged in unloading a rude cart, from which an ass 
 had been unyoked, that a sturdy lad was dragging by a hair- 
 tether towards a richer rug of grass and herbage than covered 
 the spot where they had fixed their temporary domicile. 
 
 Andrew, who had no great affection for vagrants ri any kiiid, 
 was not at uU comfortable when he discovered tbesa. and tred 
 to walk hastily and softly past them ; but the boy who was peel- 
 ing the onions happened to discover him, and was at his side 
 in a moment, most pathetically imploring charity. Our hero 
 affected not to notice him, but hastened on, which quickened the 
 boy's importunity to such a degree that it could be no longer 
 resisted. It happened, however, that Andrew had po smaller 
 change than silver; and in his trt nidation, mistaking half-a- 
 crown for a penny-piece, astonished rhe beggar by his liberality. 
 The gipsy, in a transport of joy, returned shouting to head- 
 quarters, and to the horror of Andrew, who gave a hurried 
 backward glance, the whole gang were assembled round the 
 boy, and looking towards him. " They will think me," said he 
 to himself, " made of money, and they'll pursue and murder me." 
 The thought lent wings to his heels ; and the moment that a 
 turn of the wood concealed him from the view of the g'.psies, he 
 ran at full speed till he was out of breath. 
 
 By the time he had recovered the immediate effects of his race, 
 the sun had declined to the horizon, and the skies, with that 
 uncertainty of weather which prevails in the fall of the year, 
 were clouded and over nst. No habitation was in sight ; and as 
 the road had proved more long and lonely, to say nothing of the 
 gipsies, than was expected, he began to fear he was destined to 
 be overtaken by the night. This was not at all a comfortable 
 apprehension, nor was it cheered by a flash of lightning, slowly 
 followed by deep and muttering thunder, that grumbled heavily 
 behind the hills. 
 
CHAPTER XLV. — THE FOREST. 
 
 217 
 
 bese^ and tr'ud 
 
 " What shall I do if the lain comes on before I get to biggit 
 land?" said our disconsolate adventurer, eyeing the ''irea*,?ning 
 heavens. The lightning flashed in his face, and tlie thunder 
 instantly rattled such a peel, that he ran cowering along as if 
 the vault and rafters of the skies vrere tumbling about his ears. 
 
 Tills sudden clap was immediately succeeded by large drops 
 of rain. 
 
 On the one side Andrew beheld only the darkening hills, bare 
 and dreary ; and on the other, the forest, fidl of fantastic shapes 
 and shadows. 
 
 The lightning grew more frequent, and the thunder rolled 
 louder and louder. The whole welkin was filled with blackness, 
 and the gloom of night invested every object long before the 
 natural time. Still, however, the rain held off, except an occa- 
 sional scattering of broad and heavy drops, which indicated with 
 what a deluge the clouds were loaded. 
 
 There was no time for reflection, but only for speed ; and as 
 Andrew hastened on, he discovered, by the frequent gleams of 
 the lightning, that the forest was left behind, that the hills 
 receded, and that his road lay across an extensive common. This 
 circumstance did not in itself disturb him ; but soon after, he 
 found that he had strayed from the path, and was walking on 
 the grass. He tried to regain the road ; but in doubt whether it 
 lay on the right or the left, in the search he went still more and 
 more astray ,- and the rain beginning to descend in torrents, his 
 heart sank within him. In this juncture he discovered, by a 
 gleam of lightning, a large tree at some distance ; and impelled 
 by the immediate instinct which the rain awakened, he forgot 
 the danger of such a shelter in such a storm, and ran towards it. 
 Scarcely, however, had he taken twenty steps, when, in the midst 
 of a fearful flash, the tree was riven into splinters by a thunder- 
 bolt. 
 
'a ' * •* 1 
 
 1,^ 
 
 218 
 
 SIB ANDKEW WYLIE. 
 
 CHAPTER XLVI. 
 
 HOSriTALITY. 
 
 •'i-i; 
 
 r; 
 
 '» 1 
 
 ^ 
 
 ■ ■;-( 
 
 l--'^. 
 
 iniiiigmig^^^ 
 
 -ffTr' 
 
 . ^^ '^^ 
 
 ■^ 
 
 
 
 J' 
 
 m^' 
 
 
 ';» 
 
 :| 
 
 ^r- 
 
 
 
 3 
 
 in 1" , "i^Hi 
 
 
 Andrew, for some time after the tree had been shivered into 
 splinters, stood Uke a statue. Drenched to the skin, and astray, 
 he had no alternative, when he recovered from his consternation,' 
 but to Avalk straight forward. He had not, however, advanced 
 many pace-^ till he found his perplexity increased, and his feet 
 bewildered among rushes and sedges, and environed with the perils 
 of a morass. Perhaps his fears augmented the danger, and it 
 was only the effects of the heavy and sudden rain that he mis- 
 took for a marsh; but the water deepened when he attempted 
 to advance, and he was glad to retrace his steps. 
 
 Completely wet, and almost overwhelmed by despair, he quitted 
 the borders of the morass, and with a sort of instinctive, or rather 
 irrational, precipitancy, he ran from it, till he was again stopper' 
 by the noise of a river before him, so loud that he could not but 
 fear it was deep, strong, and rapid, swollen, as it was, into furv 
 by the torrents from the hills. 
 
 This was even, he thought, more appalling than the oak 
 shivered by the lightning; and under an immediate pressure of 
 despair in the moment, he sat down upon a stone, which he 
 afterwards described as the head and corner-stone of his sufferings 
 in that night. 
 
 He had not been long seated, when he discovered a light at 
 some distance. It was low, dim, and red ; but it was to him like 
 the hospitable eye of a friend, and he rose and walked cautiously 
 towards it. In a short time he found himself again in the forest, 
 and still the light was beaming and alluring him forward ; and 
 the rain having passed off, he felt, although dripping with wet, 
 more and more confidence as he advanced. 
 
 As he walked in a straight line, his path was rugged and 
 uneven, and in many places interrupted with brambles, through 
 which, however, he resolutely forced his way, afraid, if he 
 deviated to the one side or the other, he might lose sight of the 
 light. By this constancy of perseverance, in the course of a short 
 
 Ul! 
 
CHAPTER XLVI.— HOSPITALITY. 219 
 
 time he reached n.ur enough to see that it was a fire, around 
 which several persons, men, women, and cliildren, were seated • 
 and pressing still on, he at length discovered a stew-kettle 
 hanging from a hough, and recognized his old acquaintances the 
 
 gipsies. 
 
 This recognition did not at first produce any very agreeable 
 emotions; but the horrors of the thunder-storm had somewhat 
 changed his mood. He was cold, and weary, and wet. He was 
 also not altogether free from the pains of hunger. The fire 
 burned brightly; the flames flickeringly climbed the sides of 
 the pot, as if they would have gladly tasted its savoury contents, 
 that fumed in a streamy vapour to the boughs; while the 
 gipsies around were drying their rags at the fire, and smihng 
 cheerfuUy to one another, their sparkling eyes and brightening 
 faces giving an assurance of innocent thoughts and free disposi- 
 tions. *^ 
 
 The boy, who had won the half-crown, was the first who dis- 
 covered Andrew; and coming hastily forward, immediately 
 recognised him. Danger had taught our hero address, and before 
 the boy had time to say any thing, he stepped briskly to the 
 group and said, "Honest folk, can ye assist a poor wayfaring 
 man that has missed the road, drookit to the skin, and little able 
 to gang farther?" 
 
 l^ie gipsies immediately opened their circle, and made room 
 or him by the fire; and after some unknown jabber among 
 hemselves, the stripling, whom we have mentioned as leading 
 the ass, rose and went to the cart, from which he returned with 
 a bo tie that he offered to Andrew, telling him it was brandy, 
 and to take a suck. The offer did not require the aid of much 
 persuasion; and in drawing his breath, after having swallowed 
 a modicum, our hero thought the gipsies very civiUzed kind of 
 creatures. 
 
 Somewhat invigorated by the brandy, and his clothes begin- 
 
 Tw tt h^' 7'"'"^ '"'" conversation with them, enquiring 
 iiowtar he was from any place where he could obtain shelter! 
 
 wi 1 n r ! * '^'^ ^^' ^ ^•""^^' ^^°"* t^« "^"e« off, 
 
 r^^ ? ' f"'^ ^^' """"° ^^"'^^ ^" ^^' ^J'i regimentals 
 
 offered to conduct him thither after supper. In the mean time 
 

 220 
 
 SIE ANDREW WTLIE. 
 
 ' -J*- ill 
 
 W 
 
 
 jUU' 
 
 the grandmother, who liad frequently tasted the soup with a 
 wooden ladle, at length declared it ready; and the kettle was 
 untied from the rope, and placed on the ground— horn spoons 
 were then distributed, and our hero invited to partake. The 
 soup was eaten immediately from the seething-kettle, each of 
 the company blowing to cool it as he carried it to his mouth. 
 In^ this manner the broth was consumed; and slices of bread 
 being distributed, the goose was torn in pieces, and the parts 
 seized at random. The old man, however, presented Andrew 
 with a leg; and he, in his turn, won the hearts of the women, 
 by giving the youngest child a bone to suck from his cmh' 
 mouth. It was this happy facility of adapting himself to the 
 manners of those among whom he happened to be placed, that 
 80 wonderfully shaped his fortune. The gipsies, whom he had 
 so greatly dreaded, not only treated him with kindness, but the 
 fellow whose appearance seemed almost too uncouth for huma- 
 nity, was delighted in b.;ing afforded an opportunity of repaying 
 tlie confidence wlnoh he seemed to have reposed in them. 
 
 When supper was over, the regimentaled gipsy accordingly 
 renewed his offer to conduct our hero to the village; and 
 Andrew, in a glow of thankfulness, augmented by the generous 
 effect of finding so much of the kindliness of human nature 
 among a troop of vagrants, whom he considered as the most de- 
 praved of the species, distributed among them a handful of tm- 
 counted silver, the first unreckoned money he had ever expended. 
 After the storm, the moon looked from her window in the 
 cloud, to tell the travellers who had gone into shelter that they- 
 might resume their journey, and our hero, with the gipsy, went 
 towards the village. 
 
 "You will find but sorry quarters there," said the guide. 
 "The only person who can give you warm ones is the parson, 
 and he won't. The never a one does he fodder; but for that his 
 goslings are thin on the common, and his capons are at feast 
 before they arc fattened, llowsomever, we'll pidl his latch, and 
 try his heart. Tint tliat you must do; for were I seen within 
 his paling, the hemp is not to spin that would purse my throttle." 
 As soon as the gipsy showed the parson's gate, Andrew said 
 to him, "Maybe, young man, I may hao it in my power to do as 
 
CllAFTEE XLVI. — UOSPITALlTr, 
 
 221 
 
 the soup mih a 
 d the kettle was 
 nd — horn spoons 
 ) partake. The 
 ^-kettle, each of 
 it to his mouth. 
 I slices of bread 
 !s, and the parts 
 •esented Andrew 
 is of the women, 
 c from his own 
 ? himself to the 
 
 • be placed, that 
 3S, whom he had 
 indness, but the 
 3outh for huma- 
 nity of repaying 
 
 I in them. 
 
 ipsy accordingly 
 he village; and 
 by the gencroua 
 f human nature 
 as the most de- 
 . handful of un- 
 d ever expended. 
 
 • window in the 
 lieltcr that they • 
 the gipsy, went 
 
 said the guide. 
 
 5 is the parson, 
 
 but for that his 
 
 ms are at feast 
 
 II his latch, and 
 3 I seen within 
 'se my throttle." 
 3, Andrew said 
 ' power to do as 
 
 good a turn as this for you some time, if ye'U let me know 
 when." 
 And he gave him his card, and wished liim good-night. 
 It was now far in the evening; but the candles were still 
 burning bright in the parlour of Dr Saffron, when our hero 
 rang the bell at the gate. A watch-dog, with an audible bay, 
 answered the summons; and soon after, a servant in homely 
 livery opened the door, and enquired who was there. 
 
 "Tell your master, my lad," was the reply, "that a young 
 man, in great need of a night's lodging, would be obliged to 
 him for a bed." 
 
 "Tell the fellow to go about his business!" exclaimed a gruff 
 corpulent voice from within, whose accents were scarcely more 
 civil than those of the mastiff. 
 
 " I have no other busiP3ss at this time, reverend sir, and ye 
 had as weel let me in ; for my claes are damp, and my legs are 
 weary, and it will no be telUng you if ony thing ails me at your 
 door," replied our hero. 
 
 " Who are you ?— Wliat are you ?" cried the doctor, showing 
 forth his plump red visage, crowned with a white nightcap, 
 from behind the door, and holding a candle in his hand. 
 
 " I am a bewildered Christian," said Andrew slyly, " that was 
 overtaken by the storm, and glad to ask help of a gang of house- 
 less gipsy vagrants, that treated me with great discretion ; your 
 reverence will no surely be more uncircumcised than gipsies?" 
 "But what are you?" cried the doctor more earnestly, coming 
 out into full view. 
 
 "I'm by profession in the law," replied Andrew, "and was 
 only passing through this part of the country." 
 " Have you no horse, no carriage ?" exclaimed the parson. 
 " I have nothing of the sort," was the reply. " In truth, sir, 
 ye never had a better opportunity to do a ceevil thing in your 
 Ufe, than to take me in who am a stranger in this land." 
 
 " It is a bold retiucst to come to .any gentleman's door and 
 demand quarters in this manner," repiiod the doctor; and he 
 was on the point of ordering the footman to come in and shut 
 the door, when our hero, apprehensive of prolonging the con- 
 versation in this way a little too much, said, " It's vera true, 
 
222 
 
 ■SIB ANDREW WYLIE. 
 
 m 
 
 I;* 
 
 mwM 
 
 doctor, what you say ; but it was all owing to a freak of mine. 
 I am going into the west, on a visit to the Earl of Sandyford, 
 and was to have taken my bed to-niglit with Mr Mordaunt of 
 Beech-grove, in this neighbourhood. Beguiled by the fine after- 
 noon, I was enticed to walk from the last stage. The storm 
 overtook me, and here I am at your merciful hospitality." 
 
 There was something in this that the doctor liked better than 
 the previous conversation, and he requested him to come in. 
 The appearance of our hero, at all times rather odd than pre- 
 possessing, somewhat startled the rector, who soon, however, 
 discovered, notwithstanding his hcmely exterior, that he was 
 accustomed to good society. The conversation having led to 
 a few further explanations, the parlour-bell was rung, and the 
 servant ordered to get a bed prepared for the stranger. 
 
 CHAPTER XLVII. 
 
 EXPLANATIONS. 
 
 k4 
 
 ^§ 
 
 m 
 
 The Reverend Doctor Saffron, into whose hospitable mansion 
 our hero had been received, questioned him in rather a parti- 
 cular manner as to the situation of Lord and Lady Sandyford. 
 Wylie was struck with this circumstance, and it excited his curi- 
 osity to ascertain the cause. 
 
 " It's no easy to say what's their situation," was his wary 
 reply ; " but I'm thinking they are some friends of yours." 
 
 " No," said the doctor, " but I have heard that an unfortu- 
 nate nephew of mine is deeply implicated in what has happened 
 between them." 
 
 " Ay ! " exclaimed Andrew, " so ye're uncle to that slippery 
 blade, Ferrers?" 
 
 *' Yes, I have the sorrow and misfortune. His mother was 
 my only sister, and he is properly my heir; but for some time 
 his conduct has been so extravagant, and his mind so unsettled, 
 that I fear he will constrain ni<^ to cancel the obligations of 
 nature and affection," 
 
3 to that slippery 
 
 CHAPTER XiVII.— EXPLANATIONS. 223 
 
 " Wliere is he now ?" said our hero. 
 
 " That I cannot answer," replied the doctor : " I would give 
 much to know; for this very afternoon I received a letter from 
 one of his friends, the contents of which have greatly distressed 
 me. He has not been seen in London for some time, and no 
 one of his acquaintance there can tell what has become of him." 
 
 " That's very distressing, sir; very distressing, indeed'" 
 observed Andrew thoughtfuUy; and he then added, « The last 
 account we had o' him was he's being in the neighbourhood of 
 Llderbower with the countess." 
 
 " Possibly he may still be with her— where is she ?" enquired 
 the doctor. ^ 
 
 " No,"^ replied Andrew, " her leddyship is no just left so far 
 to hersel . Ever since the discovery, she has been Uving a very 
 penitent life in one of her father's old castles, where ravens and 
 howlets are the only singing-birds she can bide to hearken to. 
 Maybe Mr Ferrers has fled the country." 
 
 "According to his friend's account, that is not likely to be 
 the case, for his means were entirely drained ; he had lost every 
 thing, said the doctor. " Indeed, the occasion of the enquiry 
 respecting him is of such a nature, that nothing but tlie most 
 extreme ruin could have given rise to it." 
 
 " It's a sore thing to have iU-doing friends. But I trust and 
 hope that he's no under hidings for any thing worse than his 
 cuckooing." 
 
 The doctor looked severely at the levity of this expression; 
 but he added, with emphasis, « There are sins which deeply 
 injure society, more venial than crimes of far less turpitude. 
 Nothing but actual insanity can palliate Ferrers' offence " 
 
 " I'm concerned to hear't-what is't?" said Andrew, drawing 
 lus chair a little closer to the doctor, and looking earnest and 
 grieved. 
 
 "He abandoned an Italian girl who lived with him, and left 
 heron the eve of becoming a mothor. almost liternliy wubout n 
 shilhng. Overwhelmed with the sense of her situation, and 
 poverty, she rashly followed him to Castle Rooksborough, where 
 she died suddenly in giving birth to her chUd." 
 
'A' 
 
 224 
 
 SIR ANDREW WTLIE, 
 
 
 "And what has become of the baby?" said Andrew, com- 
 passionately. 
 
 " Fortunately, as I have learned, on sending over this after- 
 noon to my friend, the rector of Castle Rooksborough, a lady 
 of rank happened to be passing through the village when the 
 melancholy occurrence took place, and humanely left money, 
 not only to defray the expenses of the mother's funeral, but the 
 nursing of the child." 
 
 "How long ago?" said Andrew eagerly. 
 
 The doctor was startled by the quickness of the question, and, 
 instead of giving him a direct answer, said, " You seem sur- 
 pused." 
 
 "What did they ca' the leddy?" exclaimed our hero, still 
 more impatiently. 
 
 "She wished her name concealed; but some suspicion is 
 entertained that it was no other than Lady Sandyford." 
 
 At these words Andrew leaped from his seat, and ran dancing 
 round the room, cracking his fingers, and whistling triumphantly. 
 The reverend doctor threw himself back in his chair, and looked 
 at him with amazement. At last Andrew halted, and going 
 close up tc him, said, " Oh, but ye hae told me blithe news ! I 
 could wager a plack to a bawbee, that I have been ane of the 
 stupidest creatures that ever the Lord took the trouble to put 
 the breath of life in." 
 
 Still the doctor could only look his astonishment. " Ay," con- 
 tinued Andrew, " ye may weel glower with the een of wonder; 
 for really this is a joy unspeakable, and passing all understand- 
 ing. I'll set oflP for Chastington Hall this blessed night— no; 
 I'll gang first to my leddy, to make all sure. Weel, who could 
 have thought that Providence was, in a storm, to make me an 
 instrument in this discovery." 
 
 "Discovery!" echoed the doctor mechanically. 
 
 " It's better than the longitude— it's the philosopher's stone! 
 Oh, doctor, doctor 1 the genie of Aladdin's lamp could not play 
 pew to you! What's apple-rubies and plum-pearls to chanty 
 and heavenly truth ? But I maun compose myself, for I see 
 ye're terrified, and think I'm going off at the nail." 
 
 " I am, indeed, exceedingly surprised at the vehemence of 
 
aid Andrew, com- 
 
 led our hero, still 
 
 tn, to make me an 
 
 CHAPTER XLVII.— EXPLANATIONS. 225 
 
 your conduct," said the doctor emphatically. « This news 
 which was to me so fraught with affliction, seems to you preg- 
 nant with great pleasure." 
 
 "It's an ill wind that blaws naebody good ! " cried Andrew, 
 stdl unable to bridle his joy. « But what's pleasure to me bodes 
 no 111 to you. Depend upon't, doctor, there's as little truth in 
 that foul tale of your nephew and Leddy Sandyford, as in a 
 newspaper clash. The bairn was thought a living evidence of 
 the tact. 
 
 ''Iwish, sir," interrupted the doctor, "that you would take 
 time to explain what it is you allude to." 
 
 Andrew, then, with as much method as the flurry of his 
 spirits would allow, related the mystery and suspicion which 
 had attached to the child of the Rose and Crown, declaring his 
 persuasion of Lady Sandyfond's perfect innocence ; and that even 
 the black story" of her fainting in the arms of Ferrers, would 
 prove, on examination, nothing worse than " the likeness of a 
 ghost ta>ykit on a door." 
 
 The mind of the worthy rector seemed to derive some degree 
 of satisfaction from this assurance; but he still deplored the 
 wickedness of heart which instigated his nephew to abandon 
 the poor Italian girl in a situation so interesting. 
 
 By this time supper was brought in, and Andrew having re- 
 fleeted a little more considerately on the business, agreed to 
 remain were he was that night. Next morning, however, the 
 doctors servant was sent to the nearest town for a chaise, and, 
 during his absence, the village was thrown into great consterna- 
 tion m consequence of a nobleman and his servants having 
 ound the body of a man who had been robbed and murdered by 
 two gipsies in the forest during the night. The story was in- 
 coherently told ; but the circumstances, wild as they were, n,ade 
 our hero shrink with an involuntary feeling of apprehension, for 
 he had no doubt thai the robbers belonged to the gang be had 
 a«t witu. V,licn the servant returned, he learned that the 
 nobleman was Lord Sandyford, and that his lordship was still 
 at tneinn to attend the coroner's inquest, whither he resolved 
 to proceed immediately. 
 
 p 
 
226 
 
 
 itS^M^"-,-' :.0-:» •«} y 
 
 SIB, ANDREW WTUH. 
 
 CHAPTER XLVIII. 
 
 THE EXAMINATION. 
 
 Although Lord Sandyford had allowed his spirits to sink 
 after what was considered the full discovery of his lady's infi- 
 delit;', still he occasionally rallied ; and on hearing of his friend 
 Mordaunt's mamage, summoned resolution enough to pay him 
 a complimentary visit. In passing the forest early in the morn- 
 ing on his return from this visit, the post-boys who drove his 
 lordship suddenly stopped, and the groom in attendance on 
 horseback, riding up to the window of the carriage, informed 
 him that the body of a man was lying on the road, and that he 
 saw two men, gipsies by their appearand f^, part from it, and rush 
 into the wood. The earl immediately urdered the body to be 
 drawn off the high-road and laid on the grass, and the post- 
 boys to make all the haste they could to the nearest town — the 
 same to which our hero hcid sent for the post-chaise. On his 
 arrival there, a party was immediately formed to bring the 
 body, and to scour the forest in quest of the murderers ; for it 
 was not doubted that the gipsies who were scared from the body 
 had perpetrated the deed. 
 
 By the time Doctor Saffron's servant had arrived at the rectory 
 with the chaise, the body was brought to the inn where the earl 
 was ; and the two gipsies, the fathui' and son, with whom Wylie 
 had been so hospitably treated, were taken prisoners, and like- 
 wise carried tc the town. 
 
 A coroner's inquest, in order to occasion as little delay as 
 possible to the earl, was immediately held ; and both the post- 
 boys and his lordship's groom swore that the two gipsies were 
 the persons whom they had seen quit the body on the approach 
 of the carriage. Indeed, nn doubt could be entertained of their 
 guilt ; for a gold watch and several other articles, which were 
 known to be the property of the deceased, were found in their 
 possession — the body being immediately recognized to be that 
 of a Mr Knarl, who resided in the neighbourhood. A verdict 
 of murder waa accordingly pronounced against the prisoners, 
 
CHAPTER XLVIII.— THE EXAMINATION. 
 
 227 
 
 and they were taken to the court-house before Sir Hubert Mow- 
 bray, the lord of the manor, and a justice of the peace. ' 
 
 The gipsies vehemently protested their innocence of the crime ; 
 but the young man confessed that he had plundered the body, 
 declaring at the same time that he found it lying dead on the 
 highway. 
 
 Sir Hubert was of opinion, and indeed all present concurred 
 wich him, that there never was a clearer case of guilt; and he 
 added, from his own knowledge, that in passing through the 
 forest with his servant late the preceding evening, he had seen 
 two men by the moonlight skulking among the trees, and one 
 of them he could almost himself swear was the younger prisoner. 
 The gipsy admitted that this was true, but said, he was con- 
 ducting a gentleman who had lost his way in the forest, and in 
 verification of this, presented our hero's card. 
 
 Sir Hubert looked at the card, and warmly expressed himself 
 on the barefaced falsehood of the statement ; saving it was 
 absurd to suppose that any gentleman would, at such an hour, 
 be passing the forest with such a guide ; and he added, the pro- 
 bability rather was, that the card had been taken from the per- 
 son of the unfortunate victim. All the gipsies, young and old, 
 were present at the examination ; and the grandmother, during 
 tlie whole time, preserved a sort of emphatic silence, with her 
 eye steadily and sternly fixed on the baronet ; who, while com- 
 menting on the story, carelessly tore the card, and threw it on 
 tlie floor. The boy who received the half-crown from Andrew, 
 watched the old woman intently ; and, on receiving a signal 
 from her, stooped down and picked up the pieces. 
 
 At the close of the examination the father and son were 
 ordered to prison. The rest of the family immediately retired. 
 The father looked fiercely at Sir Hubert when he signed the 
 warrant for their committal ; and the young man, with horrible 
 imprecations, exclaimed against the injustice of their doom ; 
 but while he was declaiming, the old woman touched her lip 
 ;rith lier forefinger, and he instantly became silent, and foUowed 
 his father quietly, but sullenly, to jail. 
 
 When Lord Sandyford, who had taken a deep interest in this 
 impressWe business returned from the examination, he sent in 
 
228 
 
 SIE ANDREW WTLIE. 
 
 H 
 
 flits 
 
 quest of the gipsy women and their children, for the purpose of 
 giving them some assistance, and to obtain an explanation of 
 several circumstances which were not, in his opinion, very clearly 
 made out. In fact, the whole proceedings had heeu conducted 
 in a troubled and unsatisfactory manner. There was a tremor 
 and haste about Sir Hubert, and a horror in the minds of the 
 spectators, which at once awed and interested him. But his 
 messenger was unsuccessful— the women, immediately on quitting 
 the court-house, had left the town. This desertion of their rela° 
 tions did not improve the opinion which his lordship had formed 
 of their character ; and while he was speaking to the landlord 
 on the subject, a post-chaise drove up to the door. The land- 
 lord, as in duty bound, left the room to attend the stranger; and 
 the earl, going forward to the window, was agreeably surprised 
 to see the little sidling figure of our hero alight ; nor could he 
 refrain from smiling when he saw Wylie pay the post-boy; and 
 the lad, after receiving his optional, apply for an addition ; and 
 even after obtaining another sixpence, still go away grumbling. 
 Although Andrew had hastened with the express intention of 
 communicating his joyful discovery respecting the mysterious 
 child, a degree of difedence overcame him when he entered the 
 room, chiefly perhaps occasioned by the altered appearance of 
 the earl; the elegant languor of whose expressive countenance 
 was deepened into a pale and settled melancholy. " I am rejoiced 
 to see you," cried his lordship, with an eflTort to be gay ; " but I 
 have one injunction to lay on you, that is, never to speak of 
 Lady Sandyford, or allude to her story, beyond what may be 
 requisite to the business for which I wish your assistance." 
 
 " But if I bring you glad tidings of her purity, my lord," 
 cried Andrew. 
 
 « The earl interrupted him, by saying, " It is not a matter in 
 which I take now any interest, and I reqiiest you to be silent on 
 the subject." 
 
 Wylie, as if he had received a blow on the forehead, staggered 
 bacward, and seated himself for some time without speaking. 
 The earl was evidently affected by his mortification ; but without 
 noticing it, immediately began to relate the circumstances at- 
 tending the discovery of the murder, and the singular story of 
 
CHAPTER XLIX.— PKES ... riVE EVIDENCE. 
 
 229 
 
 the younger gipsy repecting the card. This led our hero to 
 recapitulate his own adventures in the forest. 
 
 " Then," said the earl, " the story of the gipsy, as to the man- 
 ner m which he got the card, is perfectly true." 
 
 "As gospel," replied Wylie emphatically; "and, considering 
 he 9 a gipsy, I'm far wrang if he isna an honest man, gin we 
 make a proper allowance for his tod-like inclination to other 
 folk's cocks and hens ; but that's bred in him by nature, out of 
 his neighbouring wi' puddocks and taids, and other beasts of 
 prey that den about dykes and ditches." 
 
 ^ _" But," said the eari, " the proof is so strong against him, that 
 It IS impossible to doubt." And his lordship then stated cir- 
 cumstantially what had taken place at the examination. 
 
 " The old woman is a pawkie carlin," said Andrew; "I saw 
 that when I was supping their goose broth; and I could wager 
 a boddle to a bawbee that the whole clanjamphrey of them are 
 awa' to London to speer me out, in order to get me to bear tes- 
 timony as to the card. But I wonder, my lord, that ye allowed 
 the justice to rive the card!" 
 
 "It was of no consequence," replied his lordship, "because he 
 had himself taken down your address." 
 
 "Idinna ken," said Andrew thoughtfully. "Howsever I'll 
 gang to the Tolbooth and see the gipsy lad, and hear what he 
 has to say for himsel'. He's a toozie tyke in the looks, that 
 maim be alloo't : but a ro gh husl: often covers a sweet kernel " 
 
 CHAPTER XLIX. 
 
 PRESUMPTIVE EVIDENCE. 
 
 While our hero and the eari were thus conversing together, 
 Sir Hubert Mowbray was announced. He came to pay his 
 respects to his lordship, and to express his hope and wish that 
 he would attend the trial of the gipsies. 
 
 " I will undoubtedly be present," said the eari; « but unless 
 
230 
 
 ,d m 
 
 
 in*' ' 
 li'it'K ' 
 
 sift ANDREW WYLIE. 
 
 it is absolutely necessary for the ends of justice, I would decline 
 being a witness." 
 
 Sir Hubert assured him that every due consideration would 
 be paid to his lordship's feelings with respect to that point, and 
 took his leave. 
 
 " I think," said the earl, " he does not appear to be pleased 
 at the reservation I have expressed ; but really it is so shocking 
 a thing to be in any way concerned in offering up the sacrifices 
 which the law so sternly requires, that a man may well be 
 excused for being reluctant to bear witness in the case of a 
 capital offence." 
 
 " He's certainly no content with something," said Wylie 
 thoughtfully; « and I am sorry to see that he would fain hae 
 the gipsy hanged. But he's no the first man I hae heard of that 
 has a yearning for blood, and would hunt their fellow-creatures 
 down even to the death, wi' an appetite in their minds as fell as 
 the hunger of a rabiator. But, my lord, the gipsy, for the ends 
 of justice, must be protected; and I'll go and see him imme- 
 diately anent the same." 
 
 Lord Sandyford was pleased with this alacrity. He had never 
 given Andrew much credit for generosity; but the warmth of 
 gratitude which he had manifested in his own case, with respect 
 to the countess, and the interest which he now seemed to take 
 in the fate of the friendless vagrants, convinced him that his 
 merits did not entirely consist in his humour, nor in that intui- 
 tive perception of the manageable points of character, by which 
 he had been so often surprised and diverted. 
 
 By the time our hero returned from the prison, the earl had 
 ordered his carriage to be in readiness to convey them to Chas- 
 tington Hall. But Wylie seemed in doubt and perplexity when 
 he came back. 
 
 " The gipsy," said he, " is as innocent of the blood as the babe 
 unborn. I could stake my right hand upon that-but for riflino- 
 the body, I hae little to say for him. I think, however, that it 
 cannot be highway robbery: nor, Indeed, any thing beyond the 
 lifting of a waif, provided it can be shown that he was willino- 
 upon certification of proof, to make restoration to the heir. Now 
 the heir, in this case, has as yet made no demand." 
 
CHAPTEB XLIX.— PRESUMPTIVE EVIDE^CE. 
 
 231 
 
 e, I would decline 
 
 " As to that, whether it be law or not, I cannot presume to 
 determine ; but I must say it looks very like common sense," 
 replied the earl; "and with respect to the murder, if you can 
 clear him of that, I should think the robbery will not place him 
 in any very perilous jeopardy. It will, I fear, however, Wylie, 
 be a difficult task to prove, to the satisfaction of any judge or 
 jury, that two gipsies seen near a murdered man, and afterwards 
 found with property in their possession known to have been 
 about the person of the deceased, were not guilty of the murder." 
 " I own it, my lord ; but when I hae the right end of the 
 string, I never despair. A deed has been done— somebody did it ; 
 but that somebody is no the poor ne'er-do-weel gipsies— or 
 guilt has .-.ore guises than hypocrisy can put on." 
 
 " I certainly," observed the earl, " would rely, in any case, 
 \\>lie, where management was requisite, on your sagacity; but 
 facts are stubborn things, and a gipsy is from his birth mulcted 
 of more than half the rights of any other man." 
 
 "That's ro to be disputed, my lord; a gipsy's character, a 
 hachel's slo\'nliness, and a waster's want, are three things as 
 far beyond a' remedy, as a blackamoor's face, a club-foot, or a 
 short temper. But, as your lordship weel observes, facts are 
 stubborn things; they are stepping-stones in the mire, and it is 
 by them that I hope the do-na-gude may get ever his present 
 danger; at least, I'll try to lend him a helping hand. But no to 
 trust altogether to the weakness of my own judgment, I'll hasten 
 to London for the advice of some more experienced head." 
 
 "Then you will not go with me to Chastington?" said the 
 earl. 
 
 "Your lordship maunna expect it in an instance of life and 
 death like this; but, gin ye please, I'll take a nook in the car- 
 riage wi' you as far as the road lies in my way. It's however 
 on a bargain that your lordship winna try to sift any more of 
 my opinion in this business." 
 
 "Agreed!" cried the earl; "and I presume, as you were on 
 your way when you halted here, you will have no objection to 
 set off with me immediately." 
 
 "Hooly, hooly, my lord!" exclaimed Wylie, resuming his 
 wonted familiarity; "there maun be twa words about that. In 
 
232 
 
 Sra ANDREW WTLIE. 
 
 vender." ^°°''' ^ Joumey requires pro- 
 
 ing for a few „,„,„„. stable.j,„l of the wn, ami saunter- 
 
 .aid, "Ilech , r . b^°, "" ""'' '" "™' •°™«'» ""ei and 
 
 «% .hat ,e can a,read7:?i;r :; -;S::r X"'"' 
 the name o' eude did vp n,. „ *• .^ ^ 'leartedly. How, in 
 
 like deevils o^r hh^ maybe h" ?! T' '' '' '"'^'^^ '^"^'^ 
 mI' ; ' Tlio r,^ . I, ' ^ "^ ™'g''^t hae recovered " 
 
 ■".u,tha;e£deadt:lTo:a'''The1r'' ^' '-^ "■»" 
 -serted, ,„a. the body was stiffTnd cowtdeed " 'T"^ 
 that it was like a 'oa- whpn v,o -7 , ' ^^^' ^° ""'^h so, 
 "Pon the grass Wv] I ' ^ ''''''''^ *' '^''"^ ^' ^"•^'^ ^^e road 
 but treasured ; up i'n his "" T^''' ^° ^^^^ circumstance, 
 
 probable, that I gi e Tad^km ' , '' ^^ ^^"^^ "''^ ^* ^" 
 same time, they woufd IvpT^ . """^ '"^^"'^ '^' ™^" ^' the 
 elarationofthesr tLfh!w^^^^^ -d the de- 
 
 -hen disturbed r;iunderW It , H '' '^"^ ^^^' "" *^« ^«H 
 ford's carriage, derfvedtre'cl^^^^^^^^^^^ ?f .^^^^ «-^^- 
 
 Our hero himself rnnl.lT ''""*';"''^*'"n ^ora this testimony. 
 
 tl- he had j^ned tl St Jth'^ ^''^ '''''^ ^^^ ^^' 
 
 Saffron and his servall uu "^ ^' '"PP^""' ^"'^ I>«ctor 
 
 hour of his aXiT ga^ of h "'^'"^"^ "^'^'^^^ ^^ ^^^ 
 «t Ai i , o"*-® ot the parsonaffe 
 
 decet'eSrt'r:;!;:?;' -'"■'^'" '° '^^o'^' '«'^'. -^ -he 
 
 hearing ti.e quest „„"2| t teTe l"Z""^ '" """«' '"• °» 
 
 him on the rid aWu. ^'oltcU a'"."::: rt^l, "^^ 
 
 '"f V" """''" '""' '«» oommitted. "™ 'f*" 
 
 Andrew recollected that ten was struck on th. .^ i. , ,_ 
 
 as he was standina- at il,« „.,. ' '^'"'"h 'look 
 
 noing at the parsouage-gate-and the gipsy had 
 
CHAPTER XLIX.— PRESUMPTIVE EVIDENCE. 233 
 
 only then just left him, and could not be seven miles distant, for 
 so far off the murder had been committed, till at least an hour 
 after. But he only observed to the groom, that he and his 
 master had not passed long before the murder >vas committed, 
 as It appeared the deceased could not have walked far from the 
 spot where they had seen him. This remark startled the fellow, 
 and our hero saw his confusion ; but, taking no notice of it 
 changed the current of his enquiries to some general reflections 
 on the atrocity of the crime, and the strong circumstances that 
 bore against the gipsies. In the course, however, of a few 
 minutes, he said to the groom, " I wonder that you and your .^.^ster 
 were not afraid to be wandering through the forest at thartime 
 night, like two babes in the wood." 
 
 "Bless your heart," replied the groom, «we never fears no 
 nothing there at all, besides being, as you sees, on horseback. 
 \\ hy, soon after we passed that there poor soul who has been 
 killed, master sent me off to order a po-shay here for him in the 
 morning, to take him over to Sir Thomas Fowler's fox-chase. 
 and rode home himself." ' 
 
 "Yes," said one of the post-boys, " M-e lost a good something 
 by the job; for Sir Hubert in the morning could not have the 
 chaise, till so be it that these munlorers were done for, and now 
 he won t go at all till the 'sizes are over." 
 
 "To be sure," said our „. ro, "it wouldna be a decent thin^ 
 of him, as a magistrate, to be jaunting and gallanting about the 
 country, when such a judgment has happened at his own door 
 1 dare say, poor gentleman, it gives him great concern " 
 
 "You may say that," replied the groom, "for he has done 
 nothing a 1 day hut fidget about, ordering and counter-ordering: 
 and I don t wonder at It, for the dead man owed him a power of 
 money for - .nt-and I suppose, now he's gone, that master won't 
 touch a farding." 
 
 Some difference arose among the post-boys and menials, as to 
 the law of this opinion. In their discussion Andrew tnnk no 
 part, but walked away thoughtfully, as if he intended to return 
 into the house, when suddenly he turned round, and cried 'o 
 he groom, "'Hey, Thomas Fowler, I want to speak to you»" 
 beckoning to him at the same time. "From what you say 
 
234 
 
 SIB ANDREW WTLIB. 
 
 If^p^tf^Hiijij 
 
 J'1 'Vi 
 
 Thomas, of the poor man that was killed, I fear his family will 
 be very ill off. Thomas — your name's Thomas Fowler, I think 
 you said?" 
 
 " Lord bless you ! " said the man ; " my name's Robert Jenkins 
 — it's master's friend they call Sir Thomas Fowler ; and as for 
 Mr Knarl, who has been killed, he had never no family at all, 
 being you sees a single man." 
 
 " But I suppose he has died much and justly lamented by all 
 who knew him," said Andrew. 
 
 " As for that," replied Robert Jenkins, " I cannot for a surety 
 take it on me to say; but I knows he was a damned hard- 
 mouthed chap, and never could give no civil answer at all." 
 
 " Then, after all, Robert Jenkins^ I'm thinking there hae been 
 greater losses at the Shirra Muir than his death," said our 
 hero, and abruptly returned into the house ; and, despatching 
 his repast, entered the carriage with Lord Sandyford, and was 
 hastily driven off. 
 
 CHAPTER L. 
 
 8AOACITT. 
 
 Wtlib, from his arrival in London, had continued to lodge 
 with Mrs Callender till Mr Vellum took possession of Sandy- 
 ford House, when the solicitor, apprehensive that the earl might 
 change his mind, not choosing to dispose of his own residence, 
 gave it in custody to Jacob, an elderly married man, who acted 
 as his porter and special messenger. With him Andrew was 
 allowed the use of a bed and parlour ; and the address on the 
 card given to the gipsy was, in consequence of this arrangement, 
 from the house in Queen's Square* 
 
 It was late in the evening when, after parting from Lord 
 Sandyford, lie reached London ; and on entering Queen's Square, 
 he found a mob assembled round the house, and the gipsy woman, 
 as he suspected, already there ; and on advancing towards thctn, 
 
CHAPTER I,. — SAGACITY. 
 
 235 
 
 stly lamented by all 
 
 he found lliey had been ordered into custody by Jacob for 
 besieging the door. 
 
 The gipsies soon recognised hira, and clamorously and in 
 tears claimed his promised protection. He had no difficulty 
 in divining the motive of their pertinacious visit ; and interfering 
 in their behalf with the officers, as he was well known in the 
 neighbourhood, readily obtained their deliverance. He then 
 requested the constables to advise the crowd to disperse, while 
 he directed Jacob to receive the vagrants into the kitchen, and 
 get them something to eat. 
 
 While the gipsies were descending into the area, their bene- 
 factor was admitted by the hall door; and, on entering the 
 parlour, he said to Jacob, « I dare say that auld gipsy wife is a 
 daub baith at cawk and keel. What think ye ? " 
 
 "I don't doubt it, sir," replied Jacob, who was not altogether 
 an infidel in gipsy prophecy. 
 
 "Ah," cried Andrew, "I suppose ye hae been getting your 
 fortune spae't." ° o j 
 
 Jacob firmly denied the fact. « Indeed," said he, " the gipsies 
 were very sullen, and have been sleeping on the steps all the 
 afternoon ; and when we ordered them away, they said, you 
 would not have done so, and complained bitterly of having tra- 
 velled a great way to see you, and showed us one of your cards 
 all patched." 
 
 "Did they say nothing of the end's errand they had come 
 upon?" 
 
 "No," replied Jacob; "but they were much cast down to 
 hear that it was uncertain when you would be back ; and so a.s 
 they would not go away from the door, I ordered them into 
 custody," 
 
 " That was very prudent in you, Jacob ; and as I would like to 
 ken what they want wi' me, just slip down and bring up the auld 
 vroman; and hear ye, Jacob, tak tent that ye leave no spoons 
 nor sma tnings lying loose about; for the gypsies hae'larry 
 fingers, and ye would need an e'e in your neck to watch them '' 
 
 As soon as the old woman was ushered into the parlour our 
 hero said to her, " Ye haena been blate nor late, honest woman 
 
236 
 
 SIE ANDREW WTIIB. 
 
 
 in paying me a visit. What's happened to you, and whar's your 
 guderaan and your son ?" 
 
 The gipsy faithfully reported the whole proceedings, with 
 which our hero was already acquainted; and the unvarnished 
 accuracy of her narration made him respect her veracity To- 
 wards the conclusion of her story, she became animated and 
 agitated, especially when she described the scene which took 
 place at the examination ; asserting, with great vehemence, that 
 bir Hubert Mowbray himself was the murderer. 
 
 " Base scoot ! " exclaimed Andrew, affecting more indignation 
 than he felt; " what puts such a thought into your head?" 
 
 The old woman made no reply, but looked steadily in his face 
 for some time; and then added, "What I say is true; and you 
 believe me." '' 
 
 « Wheesht, wheesht, ye ,auld runt ; you ought to be flung into 
 a mill-dam, and left to sink as a Christian or swim as a witch. 
 Uut what reason hae ye for this notion ?" 
 
 "Why was he so greedy," cried the accuser, "of every thing 
 against my son ? The hope of safety flushed on his cheeks, and 
 glistened in his eyes, whenever any thing came up against him. 
 V\ hy did he tear your card ? I saw deceit in his visage when he 
 did It. I doubt if he has written down the true name; for I 
 watched the motion of his fingers in the act, and they ran not in 
 he way the letters on the card do. His hand was shaking at 
 tile time, albeit he is a man of a stout heart." 
 
 Tins suggestion with respect to the card made the blood run 
 cold in our hero's veins; and, as he eyed the old woman with a 
 wary and eager look, he said, " Ye're no canny, gudewife-ye're 
 no canny. But gang awa' back to your ain country side; and 
 when the trial comes on, I'll bo there." 
 
 The sybil made no reply to this ; but, with a token of respect, 
 moved to leave the room. On reaching the door, however, m 
 Bhe took hold of the handle, she turned round, and said solemnly, 
 
 Bheir'" ''' ^^''* *'""""^'' **'" ''"''"• ''"'^ ^^^ ^'"^ '" *h« 
 
 " Cast nanc o' your cantrips here, lucky, but do ag I bid vou." 
 said our hero, seriously alarmed. In the same moment he rang 
 the bell, she opened the door; and smiling with an expression 
 
CHAPTEB I,.—- SAGACITY. 
 
 287 
 
 yoj to Mp ,„u .„ get wen « :" '^ ouT'. I ^e '""^ "^ 
 
 plums , so ,0 y„„„er, Jacob, or wha kens what may befaU 
 will likewise Vp'n • lu T ^""^ ^'* * ^^ff" «' their good- 
 
 g.«rt. either wi.h'respee. .0 th^'iX Xsi^r thTh" "' 
 
 lhe,rli„des, benedictions in a manncrS ! f.l,' ?," """l? 
 «.-ce,j „a,e been expected almost from a t'hristia^ '"" "™''' 
 
i 
 
 288 
 
 SIB ANDREW WTLIS. 
 
 CHAPTER LI. 
 
 A FRIE.VDLESS BARRISTER. 
 
 When the old woman had retired, our hero went immediately to 
 Sandyford House to consult Mr Vellum, who expressed great 
 surprise at seeing him so soon back. He was, however, too much 
 a man of the world to make any enquiries ; but when Andrew 
 mentioned that he had fallen in with the earl on the road, and, 
 in consequence of some things connected with that meeting, he 
 had been induced to return to town, he was not altogether 
 satisfied in his own mind, and thought his lordship showed 
 something like a prejudicial partiality, in confiding so much in 
 a person so far below himself in the consideration of the world ; 
 nor was this apprehensive feeling allayed, when Andrew said, 
 " Noo, Mr Vellum, I want your assistance in a great cause that 
 I have taken in hand, for a person to whom, in a time of straits, 
 I was indebted for no small civility. Lord Sandyford, as well 
 as myself, is concerned in the occasion. It's no in the eye of the 
 world a thing by common, nor, in truth, what ye would be fashed 
 with ; but I'm bound in gratitude and humanity, Mr Vellum, to 
 see the parties righted. Two decent men in their way, a father 
 and a son, Mr Vellum, are accused of having committed a tres- 
 pass ; but there is some reason to jealouse the true trespasser is 
 a person of great power and consideration, and who, to save his 
 own carcass, wouldna scruple to sacrifice my two frien's. What 
 I therefore want, and nobody knows better whom to recommend 
 than yoursel', is some sharp and fearless young lad that has 
 his bread to bake at the bar, that I may employ him at my 
 own cost, Mr Vellum, to assist the twa poor men out o' their 
 difficulties ; for really the circumstances look hard against them. 
 In truth, it's a knotty case, and will require patience of thought, 
 as well as bravery o' mind, sic as nae first-rater can offbrd to 
 give, aiid deal justly with other clients ; and yet it's just a cuao 
 that a first-rater is o^ne capable of handling to a proper issue. 
 On that account, I want talents of tlie first quality, and leisure 
 to allow them to be thoroughly applied." ^ 
 
CHAPTER LI,-— A FRIENDLESS BARRISTER. 239 
 
 Why our hero should have thrown such a haze of mysticism 
 over the business, must be left for the consideration of those who 
 can penetrate into the depths of his peculiar character. It had 
 the effect, however, of leading the solicitor to suspect that this 
 said great cause was connected with the impiited infidelities of 
 the countess, in which, from the previous declaration of the earl 
 he supposed his lordship was averse, at least for the present, to 
 appear personally. ' 
 
 Accordingly, under this impression, and believing that in due 
 time the management of the ultimate proceedings would devolve 
 into his own hands, he mentioned several young men then 
 commg forward at the bar, with the promise of abilitv. But 
 Wyhe objected to them all, as being more ambitious to make 
 afigure themselves ^.han to set forward the causes of their clients 
 to the best advantage. At last he hit upon one that he thought 
 would ansY ^r. ° 
 
 "Do the circumstances require any aid from eloquence?" 
 said Vellum. ^ 
 
 " No," replied our hero ; « but we'll want a paper of gre.t 
 pith drawn up for the defence." 
 
 " Then," replied Vellum, " I recommend you to secure Blon- 
 dell. He is a young man of very sii-gular accomplishments, 
 and owing to an impediment in his speech, he can never become 
 eminent as a pleader; but he is an impressive writer, <• ^d is 
 besides possessed of a curiously constituted mind, and a strong 
 natural power of observation." 
 
 "IIo has been made on purpose for my turn," replied our 
 hero, If he answers your description; so I beg ye'U gie me 
 two or three lines to him, that I may confer with him mysel' in 
 F'vate; for there are some points in the business that canna 
 very well be set forth in a brief. Over and above all, although 
 my Lord Sandyford's a principal witness, his lordship would 
 fain decline appearing ; and ye ken we maun suit ouvsel's to hi8 
 humour, to the best of our ability." 
 
 vVrium immediately wrote a note to Blondell, introducing 
 Wyhe to him, and requesting his particular attention to the 
 object and purpose of his visit. With this note, our hero pro- 
 
I,^^ — ^ 
 
 ' cUtdffl^Eal 
 
 240 
 
 8IE ANDREW WTLIE. 
 
 ceeded directly to Clement's Inn, where the obscure chambers of 
 this neglected son of genius were situated. 
 
 Blondell was at home, and the moment that he had read the 
 
 introductory note, Andrew said, in his abrupt manner, "Ye see, 
 
 sir, that I have a notion to become acquaintit with you ; and 
 
 ye're a man, or Tm wrang informed, of ouer mickle discernment, 
 
 no to be sensible that I must hae some particular reason for 
 
 taking such an extraordinary freedom, especially when I tell 
 
 you that the business, wherein I stand in need of your help, is 
 
 no ane that ony regular brief can be made up on. In a word, 
 
 Mr Blondell, I want you to go into the country with me, in 
 
 order to i^ssist in the defence of two friendless gipsies, who stand 
 
 accused of murder, I believe them innocent, and I think I can 
 
 guess who the true murderer is; but as I would do nothing on 
 
 suspicion, I mean to confine oursel's to the defence of my clients. 
 
 For this business ye can hae nae fee in the usual way; but I'll 
 
 bear all your expenses, and make you a reasonable compensation 
 
 for the loss o' time; and if we succeed, as I doubt not we shall, 
 
 I hae some hope ye'U make such friends by the business, as will 
 
 put their shoulders to your wheels throughout the rest o' your life.' 
 
 The plainness of this address produced the desired effect. 
 
 Blondell said he would accept the proposal at once. 
 
 " In truth, Mr Wylie," said he, with a feeling which added 
 considerably to his natural difficulty in expressing himself, " I 
 have not at this time much to do, and I am obliged, you see,^to 
 betake myself to other studies than those of my profession." 
 
 Our hero looked at his table, and saw on it several volumes, 
 consisting of novels, travels, and poetry. 
 
 " These," said Blondell, " are my pot-boilers. I am obliged 
 to do all manner of literary labour, under all possible varieties of 
 name." 
 
 " It's weel for you. Mi Blondell, that you can do so ; but ye 
 maun give up meddling with sic clishraaclavers as novels and 
 ballafls, a id lend your whole powor and pith to me. I diaaa, 
 however, wish you to work cossnent wark, that is, without meat 
 or wage ; so I beg ye'll come and tak' your dinner in a private 
 secresy wi' me, at Mr VeUum's house, in Queen's Square ; and 
 
obscure chambers of 
 
 CHAPTER in.— DOUBTS. 241 
 
 by that time Til be provided wi' a bit of Abraham Newlands' 
 paper, to help to keep the banes green till we see what's to be 
 done witlj the two ne^ar-do-weels that I hae ta'en by ti.e hand '' 
 Elondell was much amused by the originaUty of our hero's 
 manner, and readily accepted the invitation. 
 
 CHAPTER LII. 
 
 ilers. I am obliged 
 1 possible varieties of 
 
 DOUBTS. 
 
 " Jacob," said our hero, when the old man admitted him on 
 his return from the interview with Blondell, "th ^s a la" 
 man to dme wi' me the morn, so ye'll see and hae every thinrm 
 the best order, and tell your wife to gie us a spice of'er skm u 
 cookery, and see that you can behave yoursel' on the occaln 
 For hes somewhat o' an odd way, and may come no jus Is bJ 
 nghts he ought to do, in his own carriage, but in ane of the 
 Wackguard haokueys, or aiblins on his feel They caU h4 Mr 
 B londeii ; and when once he has come, mind I'm no 1 tZl 
 
 2 7!oZTr^ "'' "'* ^"" '"^ ™^ ^«^^ Sandyford r h 
 weie to con.e to town, nor to ane lower than the king himself 
 
 whom you know we are all bound to serve and obeyCw ht 
 ^nlSg ;:ur '''''■ '' ' '-'' ^- -"^ ^^'^ ^-^ ^-haaam 
 
 kinttrr/' "''::' fu ^'''"^^ "^^^ ^^^^ ^^^^ortation of this 
 kind , for Andrew had observed that he was a great respecter of 
 P rsons and anticipated that the simple air and p ^1" e of 
 Blonde 1 were not calculated to gain much of his r'ev rene " 
 
 At the hour appointed the barrister came, and was rec ived 
 w.th the utmost deference and consideration; tras WvHe 
 expected, he arrived on foot, und«r th. ...jJ,\T V^'^ 
 umbrella, although the weather was dri^.Vngr Ja^cob^^ ::;^ Z 
 her part was none deHcient ; and when dLer was over the 
 
 tZysoTotTTT ^^"^^^' ''' admission to aU and ' 
 every sort of visiters strictly prohibited. 
 
 3. 
 
 Q 
 

 
 r.. ii 
 
 ! 
 
 
 242 
 
 8IE ANDREW WYLIB. 
 
 eipsies • thJfl .'^^^ ^''*' ^'« «^° adventures with the 
 gipsies, then the circumstances under which the body was 
 ^.nnd; and astly, the examination, as it had been reporTed 
 by Lord Sandyford. In this he neither extenuated nor exa Cr- 
 a ed but related the details as accurately as he could reedfect 
 He, however kept carefully out of view his own reflection on 
 U.e business, his discoveries in the stable-yard, and his inte'i;; 
 ^ th the gipsy woman, and her suspicions, saying, "Noo Mr 
 Blondell, what I have been telHng you is the cat, a. h wi 
 
 aTuhaTi ht" •'; ^-.rf' ''''^'^ ^"" ^^-^^"^ «p--" oVfo 
 
 all that I hae said will be proven by evidence ?" 
 
 " theTtm'b'^' ^'r^'' '>' ^T^ '' "°* ^^'y" ''^P"^'^ Blondell, 
 they will be condemned. No jury can resist facts so strong 
 
 nor presumptions so striking. But you said, that in your m.nj 
 
 you believed the gipsies innocent, and that you thought you 
 
 VVylie looked earnestly at Blondell, and after a pause of about 
 a mmute said, "There are some things that shoot up in ouj 
 fancicj that we would need to guard even frae the ear of friend- 
 ship ; for unless they prove true, the disclosure will make fools 
 of u , and gin they are true, we dare scarcely own them-they 
 so far surpass the guesses of human wisdom." He then described 
 he manner of Sir Hubert Mowbray during the intervtr:^ h 
 
 mind Th "'' ' '"'"' .'''^ ^'' " ^'y ^^' ^«™«*^^°g «n his 
 niind. There was a sort of inward fury about his thoughts, his 
 
 eyes were gleg and suspicious, and full of fear, and hi words 
 were quick, and of an uneven and unnatural sound " 
 
 "lour observations are shrewd and impressive, but there is 
 nothing in them that can be available on the trial. Thev misrht 
 help to swell the interest of a winter's tale, but cannot be urged 
 in court, nor are they susceptible of being brought out in evi- 
 dence," said Blondell. 
 
 wi,„f ft , " ■',*""' """ '"'^'^''^^ ^th minute accuracy 
 
 what afterwards passed m the stable-yard. The moment that 
 he adver ed to the dispatching of Jenkins the groom for a post- 
 chaise, BlondeU clapped his hands eagerly, and exclaimed, "The 
 
CHAPTJEB UI.-— DOUBTS. 
 
 243 
 
 gipsies may be saved ; but we must still have something stronirer 
 against Sir Hubert, before we can venture to reckon on th^r 
 acquittal. Me must throw suspicion upon him." 
 
 Wyhe then mentioned his own conversation with the dpsv 
 woman and her suspicion that the magistrate had not wrTtS 
 down the address that was on the card 
 
 " There will be no other witnesses summoned," said Blondell 
 but those who were examined at the coroner's nquest7and1« 
 
 r rttfoTtl^;; ''-'^ ' ^"^ - ^^ ^^^^^ ^^ 
 
 At this juncture, the bell of the street door was impatiently 
 rung, and soon after the gipsy boy was heard clamorZ in the 
 LiTito'tr""?" f ?-l-ent at the circumstance 
 
 The poor creature was jaded and heated, and so entirely 
 
 tZ" r T'. *'^* '^ ''''''^ °^-« «ke' a statue of cT^ 
 than a human being. Jacob was ordered to retire- and h« 
 boy then related that, as he was returning with h m'other and 
 grandmother to the town where his father and grand^rer were 
 impnsoned, they had passed a stage-coach, on fhe to/of whfch 
 was Jenkins, the magistrate's groom, and that his gCmoter 
 ordered him to dog him at all hazards. &™°amother 
 
 "I thereupon," said the boy, "ran in and below the coach 
 
 s 1 2^r- " ^''.""^ ^'''^ '' '' ^-d-' -d 'he-t 
 IS now at the inn where it put up " 
 
 ourh^e'r" "butT„T"\'1 ^^.'^ ^ ^''^^ ^^'^^ ^ ^P^^'" «-d 
 
 eat and k,^;* ^" ^7° '' '^' ^^^^^en and get something to 
 
 at, and there s a half-a-crown to help you to a lodging- look 
 
 wS^XTh^'T iT^'^ ^^' ^-- ^«t him'thi^i ht 
 watched. The hand of heaven," said our hero piously when 
 
 lS7 ^J'''!''' """ '" ^^''^^^^ «^ J-ob, who wi Turn! 
 m ned to conduct him down stairs, "is visibly sJretched forthTn 
 this bloody work. Jenkins musf. h^ .uh^L^A „^ _.. ., '° 
 
 prise, and the consternation of his master. 
 
 IJlondell having acquired, in conversation with our hero at 
 different times, the sort of information which we havelscribe^ 
 
^jr 
 
 HI I 
 
 
 ii^ 
 
 , ! 
 
 244 
 
 SIB ANBBEW WTLIE. 
 
 accompanied him, a few days prior to the assizes, to the town 
 where the gipsies were imprisoned, and where they found the 
 doom of the poor outcast creatures considered as sealed. Num- 
 berless stories of their atrocities reconciled the humanity of the 
 inhabitants to the ignominious destiny that awaited them. 
 
 It was of consequence to the success of the defence, that the 
 character of Sir Hubert Mowbray, and of the state of inter- 
 course which had existed between him and the deceased, should 
 be thoroughly ascertained. With respect to the former, there 
 was no difficulty ; the character of Sir Hubert stood high among 
 his neighbours; he inherited from his father an ample patri- 
 mony, which he had materially improved. The whole country 
 indeed, applauded his general conduct; but there were a few 
 invidious persons who qualified their praises with some insinua- 
 tions against his implacable spirit, alleging that he was even as 
 persevering in his resentments as he was zealous in his friend- 
 ships; and that, if he had not been so prosperous, he might 
 have proved a bitter and maUcious character. " He is a man," 
 said Blondell one evening to Andrew, ns they were comparing 
 notes together in the inn where they had taken ap their abode, 
 "whose success seems to deter people from speaking out what 
 they think of him." 
 
 The enquiries respecting his intercourse with the murdered 
 man were not, however, so easily answered. Their condition 
 in life had been so very different, and the issue of their respective 
 fortunes had also been so dissimilar, that nothing of the nature 
 of an intimacy existed between them. In the outset of life, 
 the deceased had been in a better sphere, and when a young 
 man, was admitted into the best societies in the countiy; but 
 falling into irregular habits, he had gradually lost caste. Towards 
 him It was said that Sir Hubert had acted very generously; 
 never particularly pressing him for the payment of his rent,' 
 which was generally in arrears. 
 
 Blondell, on receiving this account, began to waver in his 
 suspicions. He still thought that the gipsies were not guilty of 
 the murder; but he could not bring himself to believe that a 
 gentleman of Sir Hubert Mowbray's character, so friendly to 
 the deceased as he was represented to have been, was likely to 
 
CHAPTER I-n.— DOUBTS. 245 
 
 be hastily betrayed into the commission of so foul a deed • for it 
 seemed to him that, if he had committed the murder, it must 
 have been on premeditation, from the circumstance of sending 
 h.s groom to order the post-chaise, after he had confessedly 
 passed Mr Knarl in the forest. ' 
 
 " Had the groom," said Blondell, "been previously dispatched. 
 It might, as It IS reported that Knarl was a hard-mouthed fellow 
 have been reasonable to suppose that they had quarrelled perhaps' 
 about his arrears, and that in the quarrel a hasty and fatal blow 
 was inflicted. But according to the facts, and iu unison with 
 our mformation, it does not appear to me that Sir Hubert could 
 have had any motive for the perpetration of the crime; I am 
 therefore disposed to think that it must have been committed 
 Dy another— some unknown individual." 
 
 Andrew could not reply to these observations; but he still 
 adhered to his own opinion, that the baronet, and he alone, was 
 the guilty At the same time, he was convinced that unless the 
 blood could be very clearly brought home to some other than 
 the unfortunate gipsies, the probability was, from the prejudices 
 entertained against them, that they would be inevitably cast. He 
 therefore remained some time silent and thoughtful after Blon- 
 dell had paused ; and when the other said to him, "What is vour 
 opimon now?" he replied, "It's no easy to say what I think; 
 but although It s an old story since Sir Hubert and the deceased 
 were on any footing of equality, there might hae been matter for 
 a grudge between them then; the which, from the constancy of 
 the baronets nature, may have been treasured up for a day of 
 reckoning. I have^ heard of Highlander gentlemen nursing 
 revenge from generation to generation, and visiting the sins of 
 he fathers upon the children; and I jalouse that what's done 
 in the north may be hkewise done in the south, especially when 
 1 hear of folk possessed wi' a Highland dureness of temper I 
 wouldna marvel, Mr Blondell, that some taunt at the rice's in 
 
 their vouth. or thfl wtiwl.;r.n. o„.„„ _f . ... 
 
 . • '. " •''—•5 Snaj ot a jjartncr ai a bali, iiad 
 
 become motive enough, in the breast of a man with Sir Hubert's 
 
 pride and perseverance, to grow to the foul head of this murder » 
 
 Blondell was struck with the remark; and after remaining 
 
 some time reflecting with himself, said, " What you observe h 
 
i 
 
 IK*- ' 
 
 il 
 
 246 
 
 8IE ANDREW WYUB. 
 
 certainly not Improbable ; and perhaps, instead of troubling our- 
 selves any more about the intercourse of latter years, we should 
 try to ascertain what sort of intimacy existed between them in 
 their youth." 
 
 But the assizes were to commence in two days, and there 
 seemed to be no means before the trial left to obtain access to 
 the sources of this information. Our hero, however, su^ffested 
 an expedient that surprised Blondell even more than the inge- 
 nuity he had hitherto shown. It was no less than to employ the 
 old gipsy woman in the enquiry. 
 
 CHAPTER LIU. 
 
 COMULTATlOIfS. 
 
 Fob some days prior to the arrival of our hero and Blondell the 
 poor gipsy women and the children had been seen trotting about 
 the skirts of the town. At first they pitched their tent under 
 the hedge on the road leading to the mansion of Sir Hubert 
 Mowbray; but he ordered his servants to drive them away. 
 Being thus forced to change the place of their encampment, 
 they removed to a lane behind the inn, where the servants about 
 the stables, in compassion for their misfortune, sometimes con- 
 doled with them on the fate of their rciations. As often how- 
 ever, as this was done, the children began ^to weep bitterly, and 
 their mother sat dejected and silent; while tht .,ld woman, dila- 
 ting as with the energy of the inspired Pythia, astonished her 
 auditors with her fierce and oracular predictions. In the midst 
 of one of these rapturous paroxysms. Sir Hubert sent them some 
 money and requested them to retire from the neighbourhood 
 until the tnal was over. In an instant, as if actuated by one 
 spirit, tne whole group started up, and with loud and" vehement 
 imprecations against the injustice of man, demanded the inter- 
 position of heaven. Nothing, however, escaped them to betray 
 m the slightest degree their suspicion of Sir Hubert, except a 
 
CHAPTER Lni. CONSULTATIONS. 
 
 247 
 
 rash and indignant repulse, by the boy, of the servant's hand 
 who oflFered them the money. The olu woman, observing the 
 action, became at once calm, and making a sign to the others, 
 silenced them also, while she took the m.-ney, saying signifi- 
 cantly, " It is sent by Providence to enable us to get help to 
 prove who is indeed the true murderer." 
 
 The whole of this scene produced a profound sensation among 
 the bystanders, and some of them began to doubt if the gipsies 
 were guilty; while aU regarded the forlorn family with senti- 
 ments of compassion and ch.n:- . A small collection was in 
 consequence raised for th. m on h . spot; and the benevolent 
 feehng m which it origi; a)ort .sp re. ling through the town, a 
 considerable sum was soou ra i -d. 
 
 It being known among tht .. .=.:-.s of the inn that Blondell 
 was a barrister; soon after his arrival, the old woman had come 
 with the money in her hand to solicit his assistance. Blondell 
 at first refused the money; but our hero signified to him that he 
 ought, in the mean time, to accept it. 
 
 " It is necessary," said he, " that we should not appear overly 
 voluntary in this affair, till we get a better grip o' the case and 
 ye must just submit to be thought lightly of for a season." 
 
 The effect of taking the money wa3 what Andrew anticipated • 
 and the meanness of Blondell was every where loudly condemned' 
 Some of his biethren of the long robe, on reaching the town 
 that evening, when they heard of the transaction, made a great 
 stir about the respectability of the profession, and treated Blon- 
 dell with unequivocal marks of their contempt, all of which he 
 endured with invulnerable fortitude. Thus, not o^'y were the 
 prisoners already sentenced in public opinion, but tiuir counsel 
 contemned as obscure and incapable, and, both in principles and 
 practice, a disgrace to the bar. It required uo little resolution 
 on his part to bear this with patience; and more than once he 
 expressed his apprehensions to Wylie, that the prejudice against 
 
 them would be fatal t( their ch'ents. Anr^cw u „_ _,, 
 
 none dismayed. He had embarked in the business, and with 
 that undeviating perseverance which no casualty seemed to 
 attect, he resolutely went forward. 
 In parsuance of the plan which our hero had suggested, as we 
 
Hi 
 
 ! H 
 
 248 
 
 SIR ANDREW WTLIB. 
 
 noticed at the conclusion of the last chapter, the old ^psy -was 
 sent for, and when she entered the room, he said, " Noo, lucky, 
 I have a hankering to get a fortune told, and as ye have no 
 doubt some slight with cawk and keel, I would fain hae the help 
 o' your hand in that business." 
 
 The old woman looked at him with a keen and inquisitive 
 eye ; and then turning round to Blondell, and raising her left 
 hand over her eyes, as if the sun dazzled them, steadily also per- 
 used every trait and feature of his countenance. " Neither of 
 you, I see," said she calmly, " would at this time trifle with the 
 grief of a miserable old woman. What's your pleasure ? Whose 
 fortune would you have me read ? " 
 
 " Come, come, lucky," cried our hero, " none of your antic 
 cantrips with me. I have a notion that ye can spae best, when 
 ye know something about the history of your customers ; and 
 that it's easier to read thirty years of a dead man's life, than 
 three days of what's to happen to the living. Now the fortune 
 that we want told is the murdered man's ; and ye maun try in 
 your canny way to get us some account of his green years, 
 ^ before the blight fell on him. Find out whether he has suflfered 
 the cross of faithless love, or treacherous friendship : What blink 
 of an evil eye marred his flourishing : Or whether he has had 
 occasion to dread or feel the enmity of any secret adversary." 
 
 Blondell seemed to think, that perhaps the old woman would 
 not understand this sort of language, and added, "We wish, in 
 fact, good woman, to know if, in early life, there was ever any 
 quarrel" 
 
 Andrew checked him abruptly, saying, " Toot, toot, man, we'll 
 no get at the truth if ye tell what ye want. This carlin here 
 can deck lies enew to satisfy you, if lies would serve. Gude- 
 wife, ye ken v^ry weel what we want. Gang and learn a' ye 
 can, and then come back as soon as possible." 
 
 Thf old woman, for about half a min^^te, stood erect and 
 silent, as if she was inwardly pondering with herself; and then, 
 as it were, coming out of her trance, she looked cheerfully at 
 Andrew, and immediately left the roopi. 
 
 When she had retired, Blondell said it woidd be necessary to 
 prepare something for the prisoners to read in their defence, 
 
CHAPTER lilt. COHSULTATIONS. 249 
 
 whatever might be the course that circumstances might after- 
 wards require him to pursue ; and for this purpose he went to 
 his own room that he might not be disturbed, Lord Sandyford 
 who had written to our hero on hearing he had arrived, being 
 then hourly expected. It, however, occurred to Andrew as 
 the gipsies could not read— as Blondell stuttered— as judges 
 however clear in their delivery, are seldom good readers-«.nd 
 as lie himself was a very bad one, that it would bo of great on- 
 sequence to obtain somebody to read the defence, upon tho 
 proper effect of which much might depend, both with the court 
 and fhejury. 
 
 In deliberating with himself on this point, the bold idea once 
 or twice prc«»ented itself, that if Lord Sandyford could be induced 
 to undertake the important task, the effect of his lordship's rank 
 with the pathos and grace of his elocution, would be in the 
 highest degree effective; and by the time the earl arrived, he 
 had resolved to speak to him on the subject. 
 
 Accordingly, next day, on his lordship's arrival, after their 
 first salutations were over, he said, " Although, my lord, I have 
 no doubt of the poor gipsies' innocence of the murder, yet there 
 are great difficulties in the way of an effectual defence. In the 
 fir^t place, they can neither write nor read ; secondly, lilr Blon- 
 dell, whom I have brought with me to stand up for them, is 
 a dreadful stammerer; and, thirdly, your lordship knows that 
 the judge IS such a desperate drone, that were he to read the 
 defence, the likelihood is, that he would croon the jury asleep 
 instead of moving either their hearts or understandings to yield 
 towards the prisoners. This fashes me, and I really am greatly 
 
 " I should have thought," said the eari, «' that you would 
 
 chW'' ^ ^""" '''^^°'''^'' "'"" ^^^^ ''"' ^°" '''"" *" h'*^« 
 
 Jl ^ ^ u 71 ''"*'°"''" '"P"''^ ^"'''•«^' " f^"- ^hat I have done; 
 
 and could r hii* «.«* o^.. >,_ J .,i .... ""in-, 
 
 g. r any Dod^- ^ynh a rational portion of common 
 
 sense to read the paper that Mr Blondell is now preparing, I 
 would not despair of an acquittal." 
 Lord Sandyford appeared a little struck with the first part 
 
u 
 
 
 
 ISEIj 
 
 250 
 
 SIB ANDREW WTLIE. 
 
 of this remark, and said, " I certainly ought not to question that 
 yon have acted in this matter with your characteristic sagacity; 
 but I am surprised that you attach so much importance to any 
 thing that can be said in a paper. The court and jury will be 
 governed entirely by the facts that come out in evidence." 
 
 Andrew then explained to him, that, for reasons within his 
 own breast, he did not wish that any thing should arise to lessen 
 the pi-ejudice against the prisoners, till the whole case for the 
 crown was closed ; and he informed his lordship of the light in 
 which Blondell and himself, he had reason to believe, were con- 
 sidered both by the bench and the bar. 
 
 The earl was perplexed, and said, " I am thoroughly per- 
 suaded that the method you have chosen is equally prudent and 
 wise, although I do not very distinctly perceive in what manner 
 it is to be of use to the poor prisoners." 
 
 " Of the effect," replied Wylie, « I have no doubt ; but it's 
 a terrible thing that there's no a man, wi' humanity enough, 
 able to read the paper as it should be read. The judge will 
 mumble it ; and were I to ask ony o' the barristers, the chance 
 is, that they would turn with a snort both from it and me." 
 
 " I cannot think," rejoined the earl, " that there is any such 
 mighty difficulty in the way. Were it not contrary to tiie rules 
 and forms of the court, 1 should have no objection to read it 
 myself." 
 
 " That's a very charitable and kind proposition on your lord- 
 ship's part ; and I am sure there is no obstacle of law against 
 It. Ye'U be sitting, I'se warrant, on the bench; and when the 
 time comes I can hand up the paper to your lordship, as it were 
 for the judge, and your lordship can then, just in an easy way, 
 ^ k leave to read the paper; for Mr Blondell writes a sma' narrJ\f 
 crabbit hand, and the ji Jge is an old man, that to a certainty 
 never could well make it out." 
 
 The earl smiled, and said, " This is too much. From the 
 first, Vt'ylie, you have been contriving to get me to undertake H 
 this business. I see through it all ; and I give you credit for 
 the way in which you made the proposal come from myself, 
 However, I will so far humour you in this task of mercy, as to 
 
CHAPTER MV.— INFEHENCES, 
 
 251 
 
 piay into your hands. But as Blondell writes such 'a svna' 
 narrow crabbit hand,* it is highly necessary that I should peruse 
 his paper before attempting to read it from the bench " 
 
 During the remainder of the evening, nothing particularly 
 passed with hi3 lordship, who, being somewhat fatigued by his 
 journey from Chastington Hall, retired virlv; while Blondell 
 and our hero sai up, la expectation of heuiing something- of the 
 gipsy. 
 
 ceive in what manner 
 
 CHAPTER LIV^. 
 
 INl'BHEKCES. 
 
 About midnight the old woman made her appearance with a 
 haggard expression of exultation and triumph in her eyes. The 
 iriOL.ent that the waito- who showed her into the room had 
 retired, and the door was closed behind him, she rushed ea«-erly 
 towards our hero, and, raising her Id t Lund, shook it mysteriously ; 
 at the same time elevating also the forefinger of her right, she 
 hurrieuiy began to speak to the following effect :- 
 
 "Fate and death are on the road; I hear them coming; but 
 I see on angel of glory standing beside you that will daunt them 
 from passing to harm me or mine. The dead man and his mur- 
 derer were plants of the same spring time ; and wh-n their heads 
 were green, the blastjd and the fallen was the gayest and ^he 
 proiulest. They wee boon companions: a lily grew in the 
 valley, and they both stretched out their hands : tlie d^ad man 
 won the flower, but from that day his fortune began to fade : tht 
 cry of a rifled maiden went up to heaven and brought down tht 
 mildew; and the spite of a thwarted lover, like the in-,isible fire 
 that withers the siimmer bough, secretly worked its decay." 
 
 "Hooly, hooly, lucky.'- crie<i Andrew, while Blondell sat ad- 
 miring the sybilline energy of the hag : " come down out of the 
 clouds, and set by your broomstick ; for though we can ettle a 
 guess at the substance of your raving, we man- have Homething 
 more to the purpose. The lily yo'ro making a' this ranting about 
 
mm-: 
 
 i 'r! 
 
 ' !«; 
 
 1 ; 
 
 252 
 
 8IE ANDREW WTIJB. 
 
 .ucl., ana fa* us „ae n^l 'SwI^jful'^ ""'"^ 
 he 5 "V:! •""''■" i-' "" «'"^ -""■^. " - ye have 
 
 «™e.ha,rte,eaffc„e„^,„^^^^^^ 
 "w,u°"°"'='''«"''V«'''""-e left barer." ^ 
 
 telhgible. Blondell, however, interposed ; and by dint of a Ion, 
 and patient questioning, ascertained that when Knarl and 1? 
 Hubert were young men, they had both attempted tsed^ 
 cat., r ''i^r^^'^'^P^'-'^ ^^"^hter, and [hat Knarl b 
 
 of distress" nnd'fwlT'V! ' I'roiessions ; but the pressure 
 01 distress, and tliat Jaxity of t!.o sense of honour which advpr 
 B.ty ever causes, overcame his scruples, and he accepld of a Z" 
 on hberul terms, from his enemy. The conduct of tbarS 
 
 1 
 
CHAPTER LIV. — INFEEENCSS. 
 
 253 
 
 had all the outward characteristics of generosity, and the affair 
 redounded much to his credit; but still Knarl suspected that 
 sometbm^ lurked at the bottom of the cup which had been so 
 unexpectedly and so warmly proffered; for occarionally when 
 flushed with wine, ho would give vent to his suspicions ; Lnd on 
 the day prior to the murder, something of this kind had taken 
 p'ace, wth a threat of exposure. 
 
 Such was the substance of the information which the old gipsy 
 had obtained. It seemed to present nothing available to the 
 defence of the prisoners; and when the poor woman retired, 
 Blondell shook his head, and spoke as if he considered their case 
 hopeless. Not so our hero : he made no remark, but sat thought- 
 fully for some time : he then began to move about, and finally, 
 ;o pace the room in perplexity, halting every now and then, as 
 If he mtended to speak, but as often checl Ing himself 
 
 Blondei: who by this time had acquired a profound respect 
 for his sag.-, -ty, removed silent, watching his motions with 
 interest and curiosity. At last Andrew resumed his seat, and 
 said, "I think, Mr Blondell, this gathering of odds and ends by 
 that auld wife will hae a powerful effect. My lord, ye ken, hm 
 pron,i3ed to read the defence ; now ye maun put into it a hypo- 
 thetical story, wherein ye will relate, in a circumstantial manner, 
 something like this tale of Knarl ; and ye'U suppose a man who 
 has been so spited by misfortune, meeting in a state of intoxica- 
 tion with : )me one that he had thought wronged him, and that 
 a quarrel ensued ; and when ye have set aU this out to advantage 
 with your best cunning, ye'U then take another turn, and describe 
 the workings of the venom of resentment in the breast of his 
 adversary; and with that art which ye know how to employ, 
 yell represent that adversary yearning for revenge, and watch- 
 mg w.th great vigilance for an opportunity i. satisfy his hatred 
 -winding up with some supposed meeting by accident, unc', - 
 cloud of night, in a lonely forest, nobody near, nor eye to se.. 
 but only the stars of heaven. Do this, and we'll see what effect 
 li im on bir Hubert, who will no doubt be present at the trial: 
 and by that we'll shape the line of our defence, and be regulated 
 in the bringing forward of our evidence." 
 BlondeU was not altogether satisfied with this irrelevant mode 
 

 "^i^^j^'lf '■} 
 
 ki- 
 
 2«4 
 
 SIB ANDREW WYLIK, 
 
 of proceriing; bat Wylie urged him so sirongly, that bffora 
 going to bed he altered the paper which he had pv.^vif>usly pre- 
 pared for ihe defence, and it wj* rea''.y for Lord Sftiidyford i~, 
 peruse in (he morning, 
 
 Tiie trial excited a groai: deal of iuU -est, and a vast multitude 
 was early ass. >.,> bled rounJ Cue court-house. Among them the 
 unhappy gipsy family stood near the entrance to tb iiaJl , and 
 the crowd open?'! involuiitarily as 'he j'jdges and tht high 
 sberiS; with their officers and atvcndf ats, passed in ' de. The 
 moment that the old woman saw them, she droitped oa her knce^; 
 >md tiie rest of ?he family following- her example, knelt in a row 
 ly }wx Ric(<., and loudly clamoured to the heavens to send down 
 justice. 
 
 The -pectators were profoundly isnpressed by this spectacle, 
 and m»<ie way with silence and solemnity for the unfortunate 
 gipsies to retire from the spot. A fe,v .-hildren who were in the 
 crowd followed them, and stood round Msem in sympathetic com- 
 passion as they mournfully seated them;itlves on the steps of a 
 door, awaiting the fate of their relations, who were in the mean 
 time placed at the bar. 
 
 CHAPTER LV. 
 
 THE TRIAL. 
 
 At the trial, the Earl of Sandyford and Sir Hubert Mowbray 
 were seated on the bench, and his lordship sat on the right of 
 the judge who presided. When the indictment was read, the 
 prisoners pleaded "Not Guilty;" and the son was proceeding 
 with great vehemence to assert their innocence of the murder, 
 while he again acknowledged that they had plundered the body. 
 But upon a signal from our hero, he sudii n.y desisted and stood 
 Silent. 
 
 After a short statement of the case ''■•■■ i uie counsel for the 
 avcMi:.. the examination of the e\it ir .■ amenced. The post- 
 
CHAPTER LV.— THE TBIAI,. 
 
 25& 
 
 boys we e asked the same questions whieh they had formerly 
 answered before the coroner. Lord Sandyford's groom ^as a o 
 interrogated to the same facts; and it was clefrly e" Ibl std 
 that the younger prisoner was one of the two persons .h hid 
 
 thrh'i'f Z ''' '1^'- ^'''''' "*^^^^ "•^— P-ved th^ 
 they had found the watch and the trinkets of the deceased in the 
 possession, and on the person, of the old man 
 
 The case for the prosecution being thus closed, the spectators 
 were convinced that the guilt was fully estabnshed,'and the 
 
 Tn t" rr " P°'*'"^''"^ ^^P^«* '' «>« unfortunate prisoned 
 Sir Hubert Mowbray, who had evinced throughout the examin ' 
 at.on a troubled and eager solicitude, threw iLself b cl „ "i 
 eat, as If tired with some inordinate labour, and seemed relieved 
 from the most intense anxiety. relieved 
 
 After a short pause, the judge enquired what the prisoners 
 had to urge m their defence ; and Blondell replied for them ThI 
 they had prepared a short statement, which they hoped the udl 
 would read to the jury. The paper was accordingly pLVed^^^^^ 
 
 W Sand r; "'?;' "^'^' ^^'°^'^^^' - '' ^y -ei™dt^ 
 Lord Sandyford, and he gave it up to his lordship. The earl 
 
 was a httle agitated when he received it, but said t'o the jZ 
 
 •n g vmg It to him, that, as it seemed to be closely and craSv 
 
 wm en, he would, with his permission, read it toL cou" "^ 
 
 a ouu ttiat Although the evidence adduced was really irre- 
 tible, yet tRat the prisoners, in some respects, might be on- 
 
 2 the hands of his noble friend, the Earl of Sandyford, by 
 whom It would be read with an effect that could not have been 
 anticipated, and listened to by all present with a d gee of 
 ectful a tention, which, after what was proved in evfrnce 
 could scarcely have been expected." «viaence, 
 
 At the conclusion of this address the earl rose. His eWant 
 
 lateTr; '?r"'"^ ^^""*^"^"°^' ™ -^ themsel str 
 U^dt beget the most favourable disposition i„ his audited, 
 
 s mnUv^:^':? "" "^'^^-^ '? ^ ^^"^™-^ «f -verence, by th 
 mulerSn "^''"7"' T'k "^'' ^^'^^nty of the office he had 
 undertaken. Unaccustomed, however, to take a leading part in 
 
» m 
 
 KiM-JM'JtJ ^'r'^ifii , 
 
 V 
 
 
 256 
 
 SIE ANDREW WTLIE. 
 
 SO mixed and such a numerous assembly, there was a slight 
 degree of diffidence in his manner; perhaps it might be owing to 
 the consciousness of being a party to the benevolent artifice by 
 which the paper had been placed in his hands. It, however, had 
 the eifect of engaging the affection, if we may use the term, of 
 the spectators in his favour, adding, as it were, a touch of some- 
 thmg that drew its essence from compassion, to the conciliatory 
 influence of his personal appearance. 
 
 The paper began with a simple description of the outcast con- 
 dition of the prisoners, bating, that had they consulted their own 
 feelings they would have oflPered no defence, but allowed them- 
 selves to have been quietly conducted to the scaffold, not because 
 they had committed any crime which merited a doom so dreadful 
 for they knew that neither the court nor the jury could do other' 
 wise than believe them guilty. 
 
 "The evidence," said the defence, and the reader became 
 pathetic, "is so strong, that we are unable to resist it— we were 
 scared from the body of the murdered man-his property was 
 found in our possession —what avails assertions of innocence 
 against facts so stubborn ? But we are innocent— and in the 
 face of evidence that would convict the irreproachablfe judge 
 himself before whom we are now arraigned, we declare ourselves 
 free from the stain of this crime. Which, however, among you. 
 has any respect for the declaration of two aJserable vagrantr 
 bred up to dishonesty, practised in deceit, and the natural termi ' 
 nation of whose life, by almost all present, is considered as that 
 which seems inevitably to await this poor despised old man, and 
 the heir and partner of all his ignominy ? My Lord, and Gentle- 
 men of the Jury, the law of this land presumes that every culprit 
 placed at the bar is innocent till he has been proved guilty 
 But are we so treated? On the contrary, my Lord and Gentle- 
 men, lay your hands upon your own hearts, and say to heaven 
 if you can, that you have not come to this trial with a general 
 persuasion of our guilt, and in the investigation have not uncon- 
 
 sciously construed the evidfinop no-nincf fhp fr."^r-ll 
 
 rather than sougiit to find in it any extenuating circumstance. 
 Bu why need we dwell on this-why coplend aga'nst a fatality 
 that cannot be resisted ? Habit, educo'.ion, yea," the very letter 
 
 
CHAPTEE LV. — TIIE TRIAL. 
 
 257 
 
 of your law, the law by which you profess to give us justice, has 
 taken from the vagrant gipsy all the common privileges of the 
 subject, and pronounces him a criminal before he is even accused 
 of any crime. Had we not stood in this original degradation 
 before you— had we possessed, like the felons that are usually 
 brought to this bar, the basis of any claim to be considered as 
 innocent, then we should have entered courageously on our 
 defence, and though we might not have succeeded against such 
 evidence to demonstrate our perfect innocence, we should have 
 made you, Gentlemen of the Jury, hesitate in your verdict, and 
 even yourself, my lord, tremble, when obliged to pronounce the 
 fatal sentence. In that case, we should have shown that all 
 against us is but presumptive circumstances. We should have 
 demanded of the counsel for the crown, to prove that the body 
 was not stiff and cold when the servants of Lord Sandyford 
 removed it from the road; for, my Lord, and Gentlemen of the 
 Jury, we are prepared to prove that fact ; and we would ask you 
 —not you, but all— yea, the whole world— whether it is likely 
 that two persons, who had hours before committed a murder on 
 the highway, and under the cloud of night, would have exposed 
 themselves to the hazard of detection, by going abroad in the 
 morning to plunder their victim ? The thing is incredible, and 
 yet you must believe it, if you believe us guilty,- for we shall 
 show, by the witnesses for the prosecution, that they did find the 
 body stiff and cold, at the very time when they detected us in the 
 act of rifling it. 
 
 " My Lord, and Gentlemen of the Jury— You are to bear in 
 mind, that could we have believed ourselves not previously con- 
 sidered by you as guilty, we would have shown that the deceased 
 was seen alive on tlie preceding night, not far from the spot 
 where his body was found. Is it not probable that the murder 
 was committed soon after that time ? And if we can prove that 
 we were then at a considerable distance, we would ask you to 
 say, whether the persons who saw the murdered man at that 
 K' ur on that spot, are not more likely to have done the deed 
 themselves, th.-n he unfortunate men whom the presumptive 
 evidence (for :' .m only presumptive) which you have heard, has 
 prepared you to condemn ? Eut you wiU think that the persons 
 

 ^i 
 
 i ■ 
 
 25S 
 
 8IB ANDBEW WYLIE. 
 
 alluded to ure freed from the risks of such a charge, by the inte- 
 grity and virtue of their character. Yes, my Lord, and Gentlemen 
 of the Jury, they are freed— no visible motive can be assigned to 
 make it feasible that they were likely to commit such a crime ; 
 while the hereditary infamv and poverty of the gipsies constitute 
 warrantry enonf . o -u..,.u them f. r any offence. But is infamv 
 the child or the parent of vice ? and is poverty always the mother 
 of crimes ? The shame that attaches to the outcast wanderer, 
 is often but the extended visitation of ancestral sin— and in the 
 unknown abysses of your own bosoms, have you never felt the 
 dark gropings of hatred and revenge? Set the infamy that 
 gipsies inherit from their parents aside— if your prejudices can 
 be moved to do such an act of justice— and restore us to that 
 equality which men placed in the perils of the law are justly 
 entitled to claim and to expect, and much of that persuasion 
 with which you have believed us guilty will at once pass away 
 from your minds. Then think how many othe- incitements, as 
 well as povert^, , urge unhappy men to the con.u...sion of crimes, 
 and you will not believe that poverty could alone be the insti- 
 gator of this mysterious murder. Picture, for example, to your- 
 selves two young men in the animation of youthful rivalry , their 
 fortunes green and flourishing, and both in pursuit of the same 
 mistress, with all that ardour which the energy of yuth inspires. 
 One of thom is successful. Reflect on the mortification of the 
 other— the grudge nnd the resentment which takes root in his 
 ^.^som. Follow the ,1 in the progress of life— see the successful 
 iu t r, flubiicd perhaps with hi^ guilty victory, rushino- deeper 
 and deeper into pleasure, and finally sinking into ruin; while 
 his n Iv^rsary, perhaps disgusted by the failure of his love 
 ad.jnture, settles in.,> a prudent, a calculating, and a worldly 
 character. Carry your viev further, an-: In the wreck of his 
 rival's fortune, see him s epping forward with a malicious gene- 
 rosity, which hmbles while it aids, and takint. his enemy by 
 the hand, amu j the world by his -lisinten^sted kindness. 
 Then look into e m< Ifled breast of the humiliated l)ankrupt, 
 and contempiai.- ihe biiter feelings that :i career of licentious- 
 ness has engendered, and which are darkly birring and fomentng 
 there. Is it to be supposed, that between two ch persons any 
 
CHAPTER LVI.— THii TAHLES TCBNEr 25;) 
 
 Other sentiment can exist than the most implacable hatr^ 
 though the habitual prudence of the one, and some remaining 
 regard to the estimation of the world in the other, may still 
 impose restraints which keep their respective animosities at bay ? 
 But suppose that by some accident, in the course of years they 
 are brought togetlier, immediately after some recent provocation 
 on luth sides, and in such a place, for example, and at such a 
 time of night, as when this murder was committed. Suppose, 
 also, that the malignant benefactor is attended by his servant' 
 and the bankrupt is on foot-if, next morning, the bankrupt is' 
 to'jnd murdered near the spot w' pre they met— and if it can be 
 proved that his inveterate enemy, soon after they had passed 
 each other, sent away the servant on a needless pretext, would 
 not every man think, whatever was the character of the gentle- 
 man ? Look to Sir Hubert Mowbray." 
 
 Lord Sandyford himself was startled at this abrupt apostrophe 
 which iiad been added after he had perused the defence before 
 eommg into court; and the alarmed emphasis with which he 
 uttered it, produced an awful eflPect. 
 
 CHAPTER LVI. 
 
 THE TABLES TURNEB. 
 
 The words, " Look to Sir Hubert Mowbray," were written af 
 the bottom of a page, and on turning over the leaf nothing .as 
 aaded. The judge enquired what it meant, and Blondell immw 
 diatelysaid he did not understand it; that the words must hav.. 
 been inserted by some iru.take unknown to him. They were in 
 tact supplied bv our hero secretly, for he anticipated this efiPe'ct ; 
 he had also abstracted the remainder of the defence. 
 
 " Mr Blondell," said the iudffe, " unless yf>!! think fit ■"' is 
 unnecessary to proceed further in this sort of defence"; I 'would 
 advise you to call what witnesses you intend to bring forward." 
 
 ihe clear-sighted counsellor instantly acquiesced in this sug- 
 
m 
 
 
 m 
 
 ■Lt. 
 
 tmv, 
 
 iij.^ ■ 
 
 Hi 
 
 M 
 
 If^' 
 
 ■ ff 
 
 ^ 
 
 E.., 
 
 m 
 
 ■ ^ 
 
 1***^ 
 
 m^^ 
 
 i 
 
 1 
 
 260 
 
 SIB ANDREW WTLIE. 
 
 i| ■ ;| 
 
 gestion; and the earl sat down, pondering on the singularity of 
 the incident, while everv pvp Jn fi,,» i. B"'»mj' oi 
 
 Sir Hubert Mowbray """^ ^"'"''^ ''^"'^^ 
 
 When order was restored, (for the agitation which the abrupt 
 apostrophe had produced lasted some time,) our hero was pkced 
 m the witness's box, where he related with singular bTeify^^^^^^^ 
 clearness the whole of his adventure with the gipsies but he 
 
 was designedly not asked by Blondell respecting'hTcard.^^^^^^^ 
 Sandyford sa in admiration of his self-command, and the qu'et 
 and unobtrusive distinctness of his answers ; but ;as troubled a 
 the omission of so important a fact. Doctor Saffron was then 
 called, and proved the hour at which Wylie had applied for 
 admission The post-boys and Lord Sandyford's ^oom wet 
 successively again placed in the box, and clearly TabliZ 
 what was asserted in the paper, that the body was stiff and coll 
 Ihe judge was so amazed at the turn which the examination 
 was taking that his hand shook as he took down the e^ce 
 Suspicion darted from every eye on Sir Hubert; and evli 
 t.mes It was observed that his lips became whit; and a 17 
 irplat" "" ""'''''' ^" countenance, but stiU he k^t 
 In this stage of the proceedings Blondell paused, and requested 
 hat the minutes of the examination before Sir kuberTand S 
 
 bu in sTn ':T'' ''""'' '^ "^'^- ^' ^^' ^«- accordingly 
 but m Sir Hubert s notes, instead of our hero's name and addfess 
 
 -the suspicion of the old gipsy woman was confinned-anothe 
 name and address had been substituted. 
 " Where is the card ?" said Blondell. 
 
 "It has been somehow lost or mislaid," replied Sir Hubert 
 witn a faltering voice. -^^uocri 
 
 The judge animadverted on the carelessness of permitting 
 such an accident to happen. i^wuiuung 
 
 " It is of no consequence," said Blondell ; and in a moment 
 after he added, " but I find, my lord, that th; card has n't been 
 g" Vl?:?th rr^^r ^f ^^^P'-^entlon, and that of the 
 
 f . " ~" f "{; '" "'"-■ '^i^&i^ar lact, that it does not con- 
 
 tain the name and address which has been read from the record 
 ot the minutes. 
 
CHAPTER LVI.— THE TABLES TURNED. 
 
 261 
 
 The patched card was then handed up to the judge; who in 
 passing it to Sir Hubert, looked him sternly in the face. The 
 baronet, however, still mastered his agitation sufficiently to 
 deny that ft was the card. 
 
 The prisoners, on hearing his denial, uttered a groan of rage, 
 and an appalling murmur ran through the whole court. Blon- 
 dell, however, with inflexible serenity, went on with his business, 
 and merely said, " I am sorry to trouble the court; I should 
 have questioned the witness Wylie as to this point; but, my 
 lord, the omission was intentional." 
 
 " I can believe that, Mr Blondell," repl'ed the judge empha- 
 tically. " Let Wylie be again called." 
 
 He was accordingly placed in the box, and not only swore to 
 the fact of having given the card, but also that of the visit which 
 he had received from the gipsy woman , and his evidence was 
 confirmed as to the visit by the constable to whom Jacob had 
 given her in charge, and who could net divine, till that moment, 
 for what reason he had been summoned as a witness. 
 
 A sound of dread and wonder murmured in the court, and 
 was succeeded by the most profound silence, when Jenkins, Sir 
 Hubert's groom, was called. His master, the moment he mounted 
 the box, hastily retired ; and it was indeed time, for his answers 
 to a few simple questions, calculated to elicit the circumstances 
 which he had stated to our hero in the stable-yard of the inn, 
 convinced every person present that the suspicion attached much 
 more strongly to Sir Hubert than even to the gipsies, although, 
 m reality, no direct circumstance was clearly brought home. 
 But so susceptible had every mind been rendered by the curious 
 train of reflection which the written defence had been designedly 
 drawn to produce, that every thing in the groom's evidence told 
 with the force of a fact. 
 
 At this crisis an agitated howl of horror suddenly rose from 
 the crowd assembled aroun-A tlie cojrt-house ; the judge started 
 
 . — •" ■" > ""^^ "^"6 j^^i' a-^ -I actuatea by some sublime 
 
 impulse, proclaimed the gipsies inrccent. In the same instant 
 a hundred voices exclaimed, that Sir Hubert Mowbray, in a fit 
 of distraction, had thrown himself from a window, and was 
 killed on the spot. 
 
262 
 
 SIK ANBREW WYLIE. 
 
 •iivt: 
 
 The court immediately adjourned; but before the dpsies 
 re n-ed from the bar, Blondell took an opportunity of gfvb. 
 them, in the presence of his brethren, the money which the old 
 woman had brought to him, in her simplicity, as a fee The 
 foundation of his fortune was indeed laid ; for' ho judge' spoke 
 of his address and talents in terms of the highest admLIn 
 the consequence of which was, that he was retained Tn dmos; 
 every important cause; and although the impediment hi hs 
 speech prevented him from ever becoming a popular pleader 
 he acquired great opulence as a chamber counsel^' and through 
 life spoke of our hero as the original architect of his fortune 
 
 On none, however, did the singular result of this important 
 trial W so deep an impression as on the Earl of Sand/flrd 
 as lordship saw the pervading sagacity of his favourite in th^ 
 whole skilful management of the defence ; and when they met in 
 the inn, after returning from the court, instead of treatTnghim 
 with that wonted familiarity which proceeded trom a "L ™f 
 his own superiority he addressed him with so much Tspect 
 that the change m his manner was assurance to Wylie of the 
 ascendency which he might now assume over even th ac om 
 Phshed and highly-endowed nobleman. Still hwe^^^^^^ 
 original and indestmctible simplicity, like the purity of the 
 nvulnerable diamond, underwent no alteration. Jle conUnl 
 he saoie odd and whimsical being; and even while the earl wS 
 seriously applaud ng the generosity and effect with whLhT 
 had exerted himself in behalf of the gipsies, he began to fldgel 
 
 haHnt r"' "' '" ''T '''' ^"^ P««^'^»^ --P"-' tlu.t they 
 had not the manners to thank him. " No," sa d he " that T 
 
 care a peastrae for the wind of their mouth ; but I would "ust 
 hae hket to have had a canny crack with the auld wffe anen 
 Uioirshghts and cantrips; for M^hen a' trades fail. myloTl 
 think I'll take to fortune-telling." ^ ' 
 
 "And I know not an oracle that I would sooner consnlf" 
 said the eail, in a ffaver tone tlinn h. h^ >,„.„ u:?. . ''°"'""' 
 
 bay ye sae, my lord ? then lend me your loof, and ye "hull 
 be my first r astomcr." ^ "**" 
 
 In the freedom of the moment, the ourl laughingly held out 
 Ins hand, which Andrew sei.ed with avidity; L after looking 
 
CHAPTER LVII, — PARTY-SPIRIT. 
 
 263- 
 
 efore the gipsies 
 rtunlty of giving 
 ley which the old 
 y, as a fee. The 
 ' the judge spoke 
 hest admiration; 
 3tained in almost 
 ipediment in his 
 popular pleader, 
 llor, and through 
 of his fortune, 
 •f this important 
 rl of Sandyford. 
 favourite in the 
 vhen theyraetin 
 of treating him 
 trom a sense of 
 a much respect, 
 to WyJie of the 
 'ven this aecom- 
 1, however, hl„ 
 3 purity of the 
 He continued 
 liile the earl was 
 with which he 
 began to fidget 
 prise, that they 
 tid he, " that I 
 ut I would just 
 uld wife, anent 
 fail, my lord, I 
 
 )oner consult," 
 itherto using, 
 f, and ye shall 
 
 ingly held out 
 1 after looking 
 
 at it in silence for about a minute, his feelings overcame him, 
 and the earl started to find a tear fall in his palm. 
 " In the name of heaven, Wylie, what's the meaning of this ?" 
 Andrew dropped the hand, and retired to a distance till his 
 emotion had subsided. When coming again forward, he said, 
 " My lord, why will ye prohibit me from being of any use to 
 you in that concern which lies nearest your heart ? This day 
 I have been an instrument in tiie hand of Providence to redd 
 the raveUed skein of the poor gipsies, to whom I was, in a man- 
 ner, under no obligation; but to you, who under heaven have 
 been my great benefactor, I am still but as barren sand. The 
 complexion of the gipsies' guilt was as black as my leddy's ; 
 jour lordship has seen it made as pure as the driven snow. 
 Why will you sit down in your delusion, and wear out the blithe 
 days of life like an owl in the desert ? Od, my lord, it's a fool 
 trick ; and ye maun thole wi' me till I tell you what I have 
 discovered." 
 
 The earl was disconcerted ; but, seating himself in a chair, 
 listened while our hero related what he had heard from Doctor 
 Saffron respecting the Italian girl and the child ; at the con- 
 clusion of which he rose, and immediately left the room. Andrew- 
 would have stopped him, and indeed stepped forward to take 
 him by the coat; but his lordship, with a hurried hand and an 
 fvgitated look, shook him as it were away. 
 
 CHAPTER LVII. 
 
 PARTY-SPIRIT. 
 
 We nust now call the attention of our readers to a series of 
 circumstances that flowed in nn^thor channel, hnt whieli at tliis 
 point fall into the main stream of While's story. Viscount 
 Rive-sdale, the son of the Marquis of Avonsido, and brother to 
 Lady Sandyford, had been several years abroad, a voluntary 
 exile, for reasons which neither his father nor frieni's wero able 
 
264 
 
 SIR ANDRBW WVLIE. 
 
 to fathom. ILs conduct, indeed, like that of his more accom- 
 phshed brother-in-law the earl, was to them an inexpl caS 
 enigma; but instead of rushing like him into a career of dTss 
 pation and extravagance, he shrunk out of society and aW 
 doned himself to despondency and solitude. His^el ^as 
 
 About the time he left college, the aurora borealis of the 
 French Revolution began to brighten in the political Woni 
 ^ mormng w uch so many young and generous bosoms exalted 
 by the inspmng legends of Greek and Roman virtue, considered 
 ^ the begmmng of a new day to the moral world, aid the com 
 
 wdrTrdt- '^ ff""^"" '''''''-' 'y ^^« oracles of hoTy 
 writ. Lord Riversdale was among the number of those who 
 
 devoutly worshipped the rising daystar. But Sandyford who 
 
 was then one of his most intimate friends, although h partlk 
 
 of the .ame admiration, was enabled, by the possession of a m^re 
 
 plTnTu "of :?' T^^^^^^""^ ^^"^"^' '^ ^^--- "- metrrL 
 
 aChed at thl '"''"'"'" = '"' ''' "°* «"^^ occasionally 
 aughed at the glori,,us anticipations of Riversdale, but some- 
 
 Umes insinuated that his ardour would cool, and tluti vo" d 
 
 yet be found among the champions of ancient institutions. This 
 
 raiUery was but the playful ridicule of a superior mind, amuse^^ 
 
 with the raptures of a fond enthusiasm ; ani it was expresT^ „ 
 
 terms which never gave offence, though it often provS tl" 
 
 rett'noJ'. ^''"'r'^ "'' '"'^'^ "^'^"■'"^^' ^"'"'^ ^^'^^^'^^^ was 
 returned to parliament, and took up his residence in town with 
 
 the marquis, his father. According to the hereditary polU . 
 
 and party connexions of the old peer, his lordship was inlodu d 
 
 to manyot he most distinguished members . both houses, who 
 
 occu'Sto it "^"■""" '^'^''^' "^ ^' ^-''^ ' -<^ "- 
 occurred to his inircnuons niin<l fi,,.*- fi.„ „..,,„..„. - . , 
 
 trarj- , 1.UI a fulso pr„lo m„d„ l,i,n glory i„ the orcleal to ^hid, 
 
CHAPTER LVII. — PAKTY- SPIBTT. 
 
 265 
 
 he was subjected, and even to cultivate a greater degre 3 of inti- 
 macy mta some of the leading raembers o. the ministerial party, 
 than he would otherwise perhaps have done. Along with his 
 father, he accepted invitation after invitation from the adver- 
 saries, as he considered them, of freedom ; but still he assured 
 his political friends, that he was invulnerable to the blandish- 
 ments of power. 
 
 On the day when parliamen- resembled for the first time after 
 his election, he went with his father to the house. The marquis 
 had occasion to call on the minister, and they met him in Down- 
 ing Street Without the slightest consideration on either side, 
 the minister was invited to accept a seat in their carriage: and 
 on being set down at the entrance to the House of Commons, in 
 ascending the stairs he took hold of niversdale by the arm, ^nd 
 they walked m together. This was observed by his lordship's 
 friends in the house, and the most corrupt construction was put 
 upon the incident; for they regarded it as the realization of a 
 junction which they had begun to suspect would be the result 
 of the intercourse which he had so unnecessarily cultivated. 
 
 The infirm health of Riversdale made him sufier from the 
 extreme heat ot the crowded house, and he retired eai-ly, with 
 the intention, however, of returning; but the division on the 
 address took place before he came back, and thi.-the effect 
 solely of constitutional infirmity-was attributed to political 
 apostasy. '■ 
 
 The .ame night it was resolved, in the acrimonious spirit of 
 ha period by those to whom he had in principle allied himself, 
 ^at they should sever themselves from all communion with him! 
 ;his ra«h determination, taken without enquiry, was as little 
 nonourable to them as it was derogatory to l' m fbut the cons ! 
 q^^nces smote hin. like the Influence of a malignant spell. And 
 when Lord Sandyford explained to him the cause of the altered 
 
 tlirV; '" ^'""?^ ""'^''^^^•^' ''' "- - --tifiea at the 
 inougnt ot beinff considcnvl sn «r„,.i, ;„ .,:„^,.„ ^^1 „ ., , . 
 
 )n p , that he abruptly quitted London, and gave up his scat 
 in the House of Commons. The humiliating idea preyed upon 
 ^s spirits and ho fd, into a low and querulous misitt;;! " 
 ^hich at last assumed the character of actual disease. Advised 
 
266 
 
 Sm ANDREW WTLIE. 
 
 by his physicians to travel, he went abroad ; and during the 
 interval which elaps-d between the first session of parliament, 
 after Lord Sandyford's marriage, and the epoch at which we 
 are now arrived in our story, he had continued wandering over 
 the continent, without finding any reUef from the anguish of 
 his mortified sensibility. 
 
 His sequestration from public life was lamented by his father 
 as one of the severest misfortunes ; for he had formed high, per- 
 haps inordinate, expectations from the abilities of Riversdale. 
 Such, indeed, was the paternal partiality of the marquis, that 
 he could patiently endure to hear him expatiate on those hopes 
 and prospects of perpetual peace and felicity, which the mob of 
 Paris were supposed to be then unfolding to man, persuaded 
 that his Utopian reveries, like the fumes of the fermenting vin- 
 tage, which pass oflp as the juice resolves Itself into the bright 
 and generous wine, would evaporate with the warmth and enthu- 
 siasm of youth. 
 
 ^ And he often entreated him to return home, and take what 
 Bide he pleased in politics. " Let no filial sentiment of deference 
 to me," said his lordship, " have any effect on the free exercise 
 of your judgment ; for whaiever difference may at present exist 
 between our political principles, I know that you will in time 
 see the true interests of your country in the same light that 1 1 
 do, and, like me, exert your best talents to uphold and promote 
 them; therefore, I again repeat, Come home, and come free. 
 All I desire is, to see you qualifying yourself in pariiament to 
 take that part in the great affairs of the kingdom which, I am 
 proud to stiy, our ancestors have, for so many ages, sustained 
 with such renown." 
 
 Riversdale, however, was deaf to all these entreaties ; but a 
 letter from his sister, written soon after she had taken up her 
 abode at Hretonsbield Castle, produced the desired event. She 
 informed him of all the circumstances which we have so faith- 
 fully described, and requested him to come to her; for the 
 
 o ' "-.11^ u.iMvi iiic evil viniiiuii VI ihe woria, ana lii 
 
 the contempt of her husband, was become too much for her long 
 to endure. The moment that he received this disconsolate and 
 anxious letter ho returned to England, and, on his arrival, went 
 
ClIAFTER LVIII. — A JOlKNKr. 
 
 267 
 
 jat once to Chastington Hall; for although Lord Sandyford 
 shared in that aimless resentment, which the sense of morti- 
 fication made him feel against all his early associates, he still 
 I entertained a profound respect for the honour and principles of 
 his lordship, and was eager, before seeing either his sister or 
 father, to obtain from him some account of the circumstances 
 which had involved the countess in such difficulties and distress 
 But when he reached the IJall, the earl had set out to attend the 
 trial of the gipsies, whither he resolved to follow him. Being 
 however, as we have mentioned, in delicate health, he travelled 
 slower, and in consequence did not arrive till some time after 
 the acquittal. 
 
 CHAPTER LVIII. 
 
 A JOURNEY. 
 
 The landlord had assisted Loi-d Riversdale to alight from the 
 post-chaise in which he travelled, and on his asking for the 
 
 p-arlof Sandyford, ushered him into the room where our hero 
 was still standing, agitated with sympathy for the mental 
 
 I anguish which his patron was so evidently suffering. 
 
 I Wylie, on Lord Riversdale's being announced, instantly reeog- 
 nized the brother of Lady Sandyford ; for although he had never 
 seen him, he was acquainted with his title and relationship, and 
 
 \ an indescribable feeling of alarm at the moment, made him dart 
 
 I towards the pale and querulous invalid a shrewd and distrustful 
 
 I glance. 
 
 "I was told that my Lord Sandyford was here," said Rivers- 
 dale enquiringly, at the same time moving round to retire, 
 lie has iust stennad nuf." r^iJio,i o„« i t . , . 
 
 I .Ti?'^ , '^"^ '' ''^* *'" ^'*^ ''"''''" I^« th«n «''ded, some- 
 what diffidently, "Perhaps I ought to let him know thit it is 
 your lordship who has nailed." 
 Riversdale was struck with the tone in which this was said, 
 
268 
 
 SIR ANDREW \VYtIE. 
 
 ! II 
 
 ^nd,_sharply .:„specting Wylie with his bright and hectical eye, 
 
 ^hJ^f I r^ ^' ''''''''''y *« S"« J"«^ time to reflect 
 whether he ought to see me ? " 
 
 Our hero, at these words, walked up close to his lordship 
 
 calmly but with a sustamed voice, "The earl is my friend and 
 benefactor, and I have just been speaking to him, mLbe on tha 
 
 b^rie-l r'\T'^^t^- ^'"^''-'-'^ if ye'lUe alLe 
 IhZl- lu *" '"' ^™ *"^ ^^ ^^^'-^ the upshot of my 
 exhortation which was all concerning the calamitous state o'f 
 that poor leddy, your lordship's sister " 
 
 fre'e7om' ''' ^°"^" "'^'^'"''^ ^^'''^'^'^ '""'^'^''^ ^' «»ch 
 "A friend!" replied Andrew coolly, to the shan, accent in 
 
 bnskly, Indeed, my lord, ye must submit in this matter to be 
 
 ruled by me; for the earl has of late grown a perfect spunk^^^ 
 
 and fl.es off at the head like a bottle of champagn lhe„S 
 
 ony body speaks to him of my leddy " wnenever 
 
 Lord Riversdale retired several paces, and took a chair, look- 
 
 ing m amazement at the familiar and uncouth phenomenon 
 
 before him. Andrew followed him, and also took a seat nea 
 
 him saying, <' My lord, I redd ye hearken to what I am slyin" 
 
 It has just come into my head, that it would be a groat tWn. 
 
 for our friends, if you and me, before fashing the earTonv mai 
 
 at this present tim. .ould have a solid crack and eonfable wul 
 
 aLT V: '"" "'' "^'•^"'^'' *''"-' ^here she's sitt ngT 
 a howlet. What say ye till't ? " ^ 
 
 Jl '^v-' ''i^f ™'"^' extraordinary adventure I ever mot with " 
 Huid Riv.rsdale. "There must be some singular cause fo a 
 person of your appearance" ^ " 
 
 imlI't.t,Ti^^LT^'\"^^ appearanceP" cried Andrew 
 v«^, "G/ ' ■ ■ ' ''""'' """ ^^ ^° *^" "'^th prudence and trutl)" 
 \our leddy s.ster, my lord, or I'm fur wrung, will be 
 to see me with you. In trowth, we'll just have 
 
 for ye're ouer thin-skinned to' be I 
 
 very glad 
 just have to come aw&y, 
 eft wi' ana so short U the 
 
CHAPTER LVm.— A JO0RNET. 
 
 269 
 
 t and hectical eye, 
 
 urprised at such 
 
 temper as the earl is at this time. There's ill blood enough 
 among you already." vhuu^ii 
 
 "I do not think," replied the viscount, half smiling, "that 
 here is, however any great reason to apprehend a quarrd 
 be tween Sandyford and me-we know eaeh other too well" 
 
 and t r 'r- '^ '' ''^'^ ^'"^'''' ' "' b"* I'll "« trust you, 
 and for tins plain reason-his lordship's no willing to do yTr 
 sister justice. Noo, if ye're a man of spirit, as yeVe a noble- 
 
 sTeXr "" "™' "^' °' "'^^ ^ ^"^ ^"^ --^^ -t of thdr 
 "It is impossible that Sandyford can ever act so basely'" 
 exclaimed Riversdale, still more and more astonished. ^* 
 
 Whether it be possible or no," replied our hero, "I'll no 
 ^^ke It upon me to predicate; but that it's true, is a certl 
 
 him^'riM' *^^ """'" necessary that I should instantly see 
 hSly. '''"'""*' ^'^'"'^''^ ^^'h ^'"^tion, and rising- 
 
 h^ .arm, and gently pressing him again into his chair. " Lord- 
 sake but ye're a tap o' tow ! Sit down, and listen with discrein 
 
 Lord J ""'f r- '''^ ''^^''^ ''•> '^ ^--^ the folk/' 
 Lord Riversdale resumed his seat, and our hero explained t^ 
 him he system of self-affliction which th. earl hadTeX^ 
 ^opted and described the circumstances which had c meTh^ 
 knowledge respecting the child, and the interviews betwin the 
 countess and Ferrers. oeiween ttie 
 
 ^ abZZ l"!!/^? "^ ^""^' ^' ''' '^'''^' ««" ^ ™i«t hanging, 
 about her eddyship; and, considering the humour my lord'! irf 
 I really think we had better see her anent the same ' ^ 
 
 accoun? 1 i7'-^ T'^ ^'^'^ '^'' ^^"^« *h^t «h«n« 'through the 
 aXr n '.V"' ^''^ ^•'^'^ '^^ '^' '^'^'' situation and feSnl 
 
 slTf:;!irurai^^^^^^^^^^ 
 
 After snmn fii»«-k .. 
 
 affreod fh^"iu""T ,''"'! '^"S"""" "" the subject, he therefore 
 
 a^tle, and leave the earl." as Andrew said - to his own medi- 
 
I.I •» I: 
 
 mm 
 
 ::v\' 51; 
 
 
 270 
 
 SIR ANDREW WYLIE. 
 
 tations; for we'll either make a spoon or spoil a horn by the 
 journey, and the sooner the job's done the better." 
 
 A chaise was accordingly ordered, and before Lord Sandvford I 
 was informed of his brother-in-law's arrival, they were far on 
 the road. ' 
 
 During the journey, however, the viscount, who had been 
 fatigued by Ins previous travelling, and his health being delicate 
 and infirm before they were halfway to the castle, complained 
 60 much, that Wylie advised him to stop at an inn for the night- 
 and this suggestion being adopted, our hero went forward alone' 
 to the countess. ' 
 
 CHAPTER LIX. 
 
 m 
 
 ii'i,.' 
 
 DISCOVERIES. 
 
 wine tr"?' "I f"'l ^'^^ '" ''""'' '^''' ^'''^ I^^^^^dalo a,>,l 
 Wyhe had set out for Bretonsbeild Castle, tlu, .arl returnod to I 
 
 InrT^'^.'^' •''' '''' '""^^' '^"^ ^"""'^ 1^1-''^" there 
 alone. Without adverting to our hero'.s absence, his lordship 
 
 began to speak of the trial, and to express his admiration of thl 
 ducted '^''^'''"'"'"* ^^*'' ^h^«h the defence had been con- ' 
 " The sagacity of Mr Wylie," replied the barrister, " appear. 
 
 Si2n"? \ """"T^ ""''' ^"'•^"^^"^ ' f^*- «'"^« the court 
 
 adjourned, several gentlemen who were, present at the trial have 
 
 TTl n T^ f «>vn such light on the instigating motives of 
 Sir Hubert Mowbray that fills me with awe and astonishment, 
 The information of the old woman, considering her means of 
 acquiring it, and the short time she had to make the enquirv. 
 was truly wonderful; but the manner in which xMr Wylie con- 
 ceived it might be rendered so available to the defence, Lms to 
 nave been a providential inspiration." 
 
 said^i^l^! '"' ^'" '''' '''' ''"'' ''""' *" y'""' ^"«^'«^^^ ^ " 
 
your knowledge?" 
 
 CIIAPTEB LIS.— DISCOVERIES. 371 
 
 "In themselves," replied Blondell, " they are trivial • but in 
 
 connexion with such a character as that o^f Sir Hub r't-l - 
 
 rS^tr^^' "' P"-^-"-y - treJdoLrna 
 
 the'ftrt 11 T '"'^ '* Kidderborough races, beyond 
 
 the torest. Among other strangers who happened to be there 
 were several gentlemen who had known KnarUn his better davs 
 and who seemg him in the crowd at the bottom of t e sS' 
 ^Z7T " ''''" '^'^" '"^^ ^- - «q-l terms fm"t 
 tnem. He had not, however, been long in the stand till he was 
 ^cognised by Sir Hubert, who reddenal, as it was marked 
 ^ Jh sC:: 0I t'h^ ^"PP-'^.P— Ption, and remonsLted 
 a P r n of Zl v ''''\'^r'' '''' ''"P'-^P^ety of allowing 
 
 L .Hd nn \ r" '"'^ '^'^'""^'^^ *" ^ ^««" ""'ong them 
 
 Ivnarl did not^hear what passed; but when he received a hin 
 
 from one of his friends that some objection was ma^e toul 
 appearance on the stand, ho justly attrlLted the request that he 
 
 auyersary Nothmg more, however, then took place. Knarl on 
 quitting the stand, retired from the race-grouni" ' 
 
 ford " buftV'- f '"'""t^ impressive," observed Lord Sandy- 
 per .lade mcthr"/ 'Y"^ ^^'^^ ^^"^ '' ^'^'^ ^-^ o 
 drwi rnn f T"""^ P''^'^^^ '''^ ^^^'^ ' and that, after 
 all K I may have been slain by Sir Hubert in self-defence." 
 
 out %".^' "^^7^' T^ Blondell, "but other things have come 
 out. The expulsion from the race-stand was a link wanting in 
 
 W "T' • '^''''"^" '' '''' "«^ ^^™ uscertainedfhlt 
 Knarl, after quitting the race-course, went to a public-house 
 where he sat sullenly indulging in solitary intemperan e «11 he 
 was quite intoxicated Sir Hubert, after tlfe race was over, ined 
 with the s ewards and a large party of gentlemen. While thev 
 were at dinner Knarl left Kidderborough alone on fo t anJ 
 
 otrr.ti^-?r, " -^"- ^'-^^^^^. ^^^^ 
 
 J-etheTn^rm;^^^ 
 
272 
 
 SIE ANDREW WTLIK. 
 
 narmtWe"''* '""''" "'^ '"'^ ^"' ^^^•^^'•^^' ^°^--^^«^ ^y the 
 " While the storm was still raging, Sir Hubert, attended by 
 his groom, came up to the shed, and, dismounting, went also in 
 for shelter-where he had not long been when Knarl recognTz d 
 hun and taunted hin. in terms of great bitterness, aceuseTwm 
 of a systematic determmation to grind him to ruin, and upbraided 
 h m with the subtle vengeance of that friendship with which h 
 had deceived the rest of the world." 
 
 "How did Sir Hubert endure this?" enquired Lord Sandy 
 ford with agitation. ^ 
 
 "He remained perfectly silent, till the infatuated Knarl, losing 
 all self-command, threatened to lay before the worM a history 
 of heir intercourse, the original motives of Sir Hubert's hatred 
 and the malignancy of the favours by which, after destroyin.^ 
 him in the opinion of the world, he had sunk him for ever into 
 the more horrible perd'tion of his own opinion " 
 
 " And what was the effect of all this ? " exclaimed the earl 
 
 " thll ^^\Tr'^ ^^ *' ^'"'^ "^ '^' %htning," replied Blondell, 
 that Sir Hubert, wlio was standing with his hands clasped over 
 his heart, and breathing shortly, scowled with his eye turned 
 ^kance towards KnarL 'His look,' said the person who told 
 me, though seen but for a moment, I shall never forget ' " 
 
 ^ "aJ^^T!^'" ""'"^ ^'' ^"''^''"P' " *^^* y«^ i"f«r he at that tin: 
 meditated the murder." 
 
 "Even so-and I am confirmed in this opinion," was Blon- 
 del s answer, "by the circumstance, that Sir Hubert abruptly 
 called Jenkins the groom, who, it appears, was standing with the 
 horses at «om_e distance, and although the rain was then fallirn- 
 in torrents, immediately mounted, and returned to liidder- 
 borough, professedly for the night, but certainly, it would seem, 
 with no such intention; for when Sir Hubert got back to the 
 inn, he ordered his servant to keep the horses still saddled This 
 I have now learned from Jenkins himself-and as soon as the 
 storm abated, they resumed their journey homeward, and md. 
 with unusual speed till they reached the skirts of the forest On 
 entering the forest, Sir Hubert slackened his haste, and began 
 to speak of his intention of going next day to Sir Thomas Fow- 
 
CHAPTER tX.— A VISIT, 273 
 
 Anir;.'*'"'''"*'""^.''''"*^''' ^' ^'^^ "^^^'^ '"^"foned before. 
 At last they came up .vith Knarl. The night being fine, anc 
 the moon bnght, on seeing him before them, Sir Ilubfrt clapped 
 spurs to his horse, and passed him without speakinr Jenkint 
 thought this was to avoid his abuse, but they hn. n't ridden fo 
 when the baronet again pulled in, and desired ^room to go 
 
 for.vard the town, and order a chaise to tai.o hin. ov r next 
 day to the hunt. It cannot, therefore, be doubted, that the 
 murder was most foully premeditated, and that th n, m nt 
 Jenkms had left him, the baronet returned and perpetrated the 
 
 «o."fl^"T^""*^^'^^* '''" '""'^ ^^' '^'^^ "that we should feel 
 satisfied at hearing guilt so clearly established. But what has 
 become of Wylie ?" and his lordsl^ immediately rung the beS 
 It happened to be answered by one of his ow/servLts who 
 no awareo Lord Riversdale's arrival, but having seen ou lero 
 embark with him in the carriage for Bretonsbeild Castle said 
 on being requested by his lordship to enquire for Mr WvTi ' 
 chdse."' ' '''' *'' *""" "^^^ ' ^^^^"^« ^-«— - a post.' 
 
 ..n^-nf ^^f&^ ^^^ t'-^^bled at this information ; he was 
 sensible of having rudely quitted Wylie in the agitation of The 
 
 Blondell seeing him disturbed, immediately retired, and his 
 Ic-dship, after pacing the room thoughtfully, ordered hi carriage 
 and reurned to Chastington Hall, leaving a note for Indrfw 
 earnestly requesting him to follow him ther? as soon as poss blT 
 
 CHAPTER LX. 
 
 A VISIT. 
 
 Caltt r. ! ""l' ^"' "•^"""""^ ^'^''' Wylie reached the 
 ^vas seated at her sobtary tea-table. On hearing his well-known 
 
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i/.x 
 
274 
 
 SIB ANDREW Wl'LIE, 
 
 If;! 
 
 to receive him. °""''' '^^ ''"^^ ^"^ opened the door 
 
 "This is an unexpected pleasure, Mr WvUe f " «K 
 as she took him by both the hnn^/ -^^ ^^ exclaimed, 
 
 ferent from the /easutrurtnt T^ T'^'^"*^ ^^^ ^if" 
 He was not prepared for theXZ\- ^f /«"«"• Politeness, 
 the first was a liftlelbLmLS ''"''' "l *''^ '^^"^^«™' ^"^ «* 
 ing allied to sorrow, whnC^^^^^^^^^ ^' 'T ""'^^ *« ^ ^^ ^'- 
 he had been accustom e^lto Tlrl^ f '"^''^ ™^" ^^^ 
 brilliant ensigns of Jvetv 2 t'h T^ «"''''«"nded with the 
 dressed withLremHSieity. ' '' "^'^^^ '" P^«' ^^^ 
 
 The countess herself nlaced n. r.y,o:. <• i.. 
 the tea-table; and beforrhe haVttme to a'jd" ""I! '" ^^' «* 
 
 faltered as she added, "I hone vn„ h 7 i ^''"^ *''''" ^'^''^nts 
 
 Andrew replied drol'lnfT I- J^""' ^'^* "^^ ^^''d well ? " 
 perfectly unde'i^llf^" ^-'^ -^ich the countess 
 canna undertake to wefr to b t f''"^ ^'''' **'"^'« ^ «""& I 
 would say to your leldvsh in' n 1 ? !!^° "^ '''^ ««°dition, I 
 about meaMim"^ B ut "^'Ti^^^ health he has is a^e 
 
 for you to live in. Tm n'^S'edt T '" T' ^^^^'"^ '^»"- 
 «ee a gay gallant like me com ro„ , •f!-'^''"^' ""' «° ^^^" *« 
 need to make mickle e' Z visit "!^"- ^^- ^^^""W 
 for there's but little mirth wher ho ' T ^'^ " "^ ^^^^ ^'^S; 
 by the wind flfeing onl:tX^''''\y'^^^^^^ 
 surprised at my coming, and ye d,'n„; i"? /'''' ^^'^'^^^hip is 
 an errand." ^' ^"^ '^'""^ ^^ink I am here without 
 
 The countess siffhed nnr^ »v,„j 
 
 ".y W.Iy, this gaU of ™ J„;* J? 't" ■•?"■■"«'. " S"o.,, 
 
 the a„,„«„?,.v of h„. „,„t. .!'; 1"^''!^ »»f™l, ™,„L,' L" 
 : »»'t!"g?" s.id"„,rir ZlT'l'l" ■""'•"'erpreW." 
 
s coming- along in 
 nd opened the door 
 
 5-'" she exclaimed, 
 Jordiality very dif- 
 formci- politeness. 
 lis freedom, and at 
 "sensible to a 1^ el- 
 idid woman whom 
 rrounded with the 
 >eld her pale, and 
 
 near her own, at 
 ■ess her, said, " I 
 
 and hor accents 
 ylord well?" 
 lich the countess 
 that's a thing I 
 ' his condition, I 
 th he has is aye 
 CO awsome house 
 uld be so fain to 
 Ah ! ye would 
 J no staylang; 
 : that's played is 
 ur leddyship is 
 m here without 
 
 hough Andrew 
 imed, " Surely, 
 no what might 
 id at your time 
 
 intess; "lam 
 conscious that 
 misinterpreted, 
 ivliat are you 
 
 CHAPTER LX. — A VISIT. 
 
 275 
 
 " Do not misunderstand me," she cried hastily. « I am only 
 waiting to see what is to be the result of this strange state into 
 which I have been thrown. I feel myself entangled in a net 
 from which I cannot extricate myself. My fate is ravelled with 
 circumstances beyond my control. The world may believe me 
 worthy of the abandonment that I suffer— the fruit of one trifling 
 indiscretion. Conscious of my innocence, and confident that 
 sooner or later, I shall be indemnified for what I now endure I 
 wait patiently the natural development of the mystery with 
 which I am involved." 
 
 " By the indiscretion, your leddyship means, I suppose, follow- 
 ing the rash counsel of that diplomatical body, my lord marquis 
 your father?" ' 
 
 " Your supposition is just. I have no other error of conduct 
 towards my husband, for which I can be blamed with any 
 severity." 
 
 " Then, if your leddyship is sensible of that fault, what for 
 will ye no try to amend it ? If ye ran awa' from your gudeman 
 m a pet, surely, whenever ye came to your senses, you ought to 
 have gone back to him, wi' a napkin at your e'e, an' it had only 
 been a sham for decency." 
 
 " Why, Mr Wylie," said the countess, smiling at the figure 
 he had employed, " I think, when I left my father and went to 
 Elderbower to the dowager, I did nearly as much as in reason 
 could be expected from a woman that thought herself but hall 
 in the wrong." 
 
 " As to that rU say nothing ; but ye know that women— the 
 present company, of course, excepted— are kittle cattle to deal 
 with." 
 
 " Mr Wylie, this conversation is becoming painful to me. I 
 am so circumstanced that I know not what to do. If I could 
 see my way clearly, I should require no prompting." The 
 countess, after a pause of about a minute, added, " I will deal 
 frankly with you; although I do, as a woman, think, that if 
 ^-andyford wished for a reconciliation, he or.ght, as a man to 
 come to me himself. It would be an act of grace and love, and 
 I would ever esteem it as such. Yet, as a wife, I wiU stand on 
 no such etiquette. Does he desire to live with me again ? Say 
 
 i! 
 
 V: 
 
 i 
 
'if 
 
 111 m ' 
 
 M 
 
 276 
 
 SIR ANI;BEW WYLIE, 
 
 Andrew wa. JiZck 17"°° l"?'' '"'PP'"'^'-" 
 
 .ha. he had never ima^ pos, , °" He'raT ' '° r"™™ 
 quate concention nf fi,„ •! V ^® "^^ ^"'''ned no ade- 
 
 sensible of his mercies nor X i ' T f^ ^^'^ ^' '^ ^°«'' ^"^ no 
 The countess smSTlv °^*^'P'"'•^^««"«*«^^ay!•' 
 
 compliment, said » Come .'' "'™''; .^"'' P^^^«^^ ^^th 'the 
 subject. I 'see h w ftTllT 7 f f '' ^^* "« ^^«P ^^e 
 do-I have discovert hiTL^ ""'^^'^"'"^ ^^"^'^ *'^''" y«" 
 parted, than brdperien e wh.? ""' ^^ "-^fl^^tion since we 
 win rathercontfnue IS ht ""'• ""''^ "'" ""^ ^'^^^ He 
 in error, than be as he Tl r''''"f ' "^'^ ''^° '"•'"''^««"«. 
 has acted wrong' I c Lnot^o' Lv""'," *° ^^^^--l^^ge he' 
 
 " I did not L " r?- ^^ ^"" ""^"'^ ^« wishes it." 
 e.pression,rjf--t^ catch at this 
 
 with sincerity believe that 111' *^^ contrary, I do 
 
 more pleasur; than he St of v"^ TJ^? "'°"''* ^'^ him 
 Hall. But"— and heTatel ' '"^'^^''^ ^* ^h^*-^*- 
 
 attt:Lltnrorhistirrt 'T""'-''' ^^^-onsequence, 
 
 In fact, he was' rno^tZ^ ^t:^::'""' ^'^^^^^ 
 
 than he could have been bv InT 'f • *' ''''^ '"^"°^'-. 
 
 momentary pause, in w eh fe dec'deT T" Vv,""'' "^^^ ^ 
 
 Bubject, he resumed in a lively W" { ''' '^'"^ °° ^^^^^ 
 
 nielancholious concerns T hnZ J ' u ,*' *° ^'^I'' about such 
 
 leddyship's brotherrcomeh "^^^' ^"'^^ °«^«- Your 
 
 morn's morning Poor l"d heT' " ' ""' '^ ^"" ^^^'^^^ ^^e 
 
 fashed ; so I left him on th ^ ""'^ '''°"^' '^"^ ""«° ^^^Y 
 
 He then expla nd o her more" ""^ "" ^* ^^^ ^^-"-" 
 
 accidentally met and the n ? '"'^r ^*""^'^"y ^^y, they had 
 
 him from Ln^Zt SaLyC" "''^' ^"'"^^^ ^^ *°^-P 
 
 our hero, " Why should voubnv '^ ?°™'"' disconcerted 
 
 likelihood of the tw qua'rrell^nr?'^^^^^^^^ '''''' ^^ -"^ 
 
 my case to provoke a quarrel." ^^ ^ "'' '' °°*h'"» '" 
 
CHAPTER LXI.— MAGNANIMITY. 277 
 
 " rm no sure of that," said Wylie unguardedly. « In a word 
 my leddy the earl is as dure as a door-nail, and winna listen 
 even to the vindication of your leddyship's character." 
 
 The countess looked for a moment wildly; but a few tears 
 coming to her relief, she said, " I did not think that Sandytrd 
 cared so little for me." ^"uuyicra 
 
 The tone of pathetic dejection in which this was uttered 
 piei-ced the heart of Wylie. He perceived the error he had "0^ 
 muted, or rather the erroneous interpretation which the coun "s 
 had given to his words; and eager to set her right, said, "J 
 doubt, my leddy, it comes from another cause. He c;res more 
 for you tlian he will allow either himself or any other body t^ 
 think; and I fancy that his contrariness is altogether of some 
 miskart crancum about your caring nothing for him. However 
 well see what's to be said on this head the morn, when your 
 leddyship s brother comes. But it would save ba th him and 
 
 nTck 3 1 ^r^ '' ^"" "^"^' ^*"^* ^^' y«- heel" 
 neck and tumble at ance ouer to Chastington Hall, and come to 
 
 a right understanding with your gudeman himself withouTthe 
 interloping of any other friends." vvxiuoui me 
 
 iJ^^ '""/.?' '™^'''' ^"^' ^"""^ *h« '•^'"^'"der of the even- 
 ng turned the conversation into a lighter strain, chiefly relat Je 
 to the state of her friends in town. 
 
 CHAPTER LXr. 
 
 MAOXANIMITY. 
 
 The following morning was grey and lowering, and when 
 Lord Riversdale approached Bretonsbeild Castle, which he had 
 
 walls and towers, hoary with the lichens of antiquity, and dark- 
 
 Ind a'l ''^ ^'"'- " ''^ ''''' ^^™^' ^"^P--^ ^is Lginat on, 
 and awakened associations of the most solemn and affecting kind 
 
 The reveries of his early enthusiasm had long parsed away, and 
 
 II 
 
278 
 
 SIK ANDREW WTLIE. 
 
 intrepid aSven.u I^h^J 1 If^r' ^^S^^--^' »f a fe.: 
 fcnl had predicted, and 12, hit I"*" *■" ^'^ ^'"'y 
 atoiration to the insti.uSof hU t?"^ ",* ""'" '°™ '■"■' 
 him as the castle rose befee hL „ '.? '''°.''- " »«■»<«» "> 
 along the surface of he d„™ ^iT *"= "'"' "'>'«'■ ""ateJ 
 
 ance of so™ n>ajestiea.'rfl itnlttXTi ''""^''™^- 
 the clouds, thai it was a superb tvJJ^ . ^ necromancy i„ 
 moral fabric, which the wMo,„ Zf,, ™' "^ ™"'--''l"'> 
 tues of ages hare reared II- '*««"■«"»». and the vir- 
 
 rebuied ly .he geZtf En^hndT'?' "" '"' "■*■ ■" " -«-• 
 vish motives of LntLlf nttaS?;™» " > ""'^ P^'' 
 
 ::X!:irifrir""----»=p'r 
 
 feelings we have described Id ™n,X">^™'-«"^ ™ «•« 
 stster, whom he had left the nrid, r f^ "^ '"""«'' h" 
 of fashion, but had retltd t'Sk „ .""'^ "• ' "■" °"'™™' 
 -here every object indicat:^ Xt oblivi" T r" ""'""'• 
 reflections gave a colourin,T2 u ?' ''°'' ''"''y- Thei» 
 instead of that peevish r„Tr? r.'?f "'j- '° W' mind, and 
 unfit for social'" tSttl'' "t""""'"^ "'■» "'""o^' 
 and was moved intH s Jb„. „?^ •"" ""'" »"'' """passionate, 
 
 him to listen with Lutnt^nS."'"'''""'' "»' """^ 
 or of sorrow. AccordiS ^h, "^ ^ /"^ "'™"'°» "f error 
 arrival, the eounterhasSd to emb° 't-* '"''''""«' »' >>'» 
 with a warmth of atfecut fha V^ twti f r''^ "^^ 
 she was so much affected bvhiseZi„„ , '° ''""''"'• '""' 
 wept profusely on his shoufdr '' '^"'""'■y' "»' =!>« 
 
 cei:i^°^hi:rr,;s:;r;::x'r^,f -»., ana per. 
 
 atte,,Uo„, .. u „,y ,o,d'on wing:S;r"°"°"' ""'"' '"- 
 fromltlistT' *"" '" ""«* «"«■■*• "--g^ing himself 
 
CIIAPTEE I.XI. — MAGNANIMITY-. 
 
 279 
 
 engaging himself 
 
 « 0, naething at all ! " replied Andrew. " But it's no the use 
 and wont of welcoming, to be playactoring in sic a tragical 
 fashion. In trouth, my leddy and my lord, it will not do, con- 
 sidenng the job we hae in hand, to be singing, ' Waly, waly, 
 up yon bank, and waly, waly, down yon brae,' Uke Lady Both- 
 well, when her lord had left her. We live in times when tears 
 are gone greatly out of fashion; maybe love and affection do na 
 bum the brighter for a', that. Ilowsever, we should conform, 
 and therefore I take it upon me to inhibit you from a' sort of 
 opera-Uke antics, till we hae come to a right understanding wi' 
 the breakfast-table. For I'm of a serious opinion that a weel- 
 boiled egg, in a raw cold morning like this, is worth mair than 
 a pint-stoup cf salt tears, or a piper's bag of sighs and sobbing." 
 This whimsical address had the effect intended, and after a few 
 other light and gay expressions, partly allusive to the object of 
 the meeting, the party sat down to breakfast, with a degree of 
 cheerfulness scarcely to have been expected from the impas- 
 sioned anguish with which the countess and her brother had 
 embraced. 
 
 "Weel, my leddy," said Andrew, when they had finished 
 breakfast, and retired to her favourite room in the octagon 
 tower, "Iha« been thinking all night about you, and that 
 whirhgig, my Lord Sandyford, and I can mak nothing of your 
 case but this-you would fain go back to him, and he wishes 
 you would come, but he has his doubts." 
 
 "Doubts!" exclaimed the countess with agitation, and she 
 added, with a sigh, " I cannot remove them." 
 
 She then recounted with a composed, but impressive voice, 
 the whole circumstances relative to the child and to J'errers, 
 and entered into a very circumstantial explanation with her 
 brother, respecting the pertinacious attentions of the maniac. 
 
 "It's a pity," said Lord Riversdale to the countess, "that 
 Lord Sandyford cannot hear you report this-his candour would, 
 without further investigation, be satisfied." 
 
 « But I fear," replied her ladyship," that he cares Uttle whether 
 I am innocent or guilty." 
 
 " The deevil's in this world!" excl imed Andrew, "if folk 
 must suffer wrong without the hope of redress." 
 
 I 
 
280 
 
 sin AJVDBEW WYiJE. 
 
 "I should think " sm'/? p- , , 
 fordoneeconvince'do? he^S^^^^^^^^^^^^ " '1-^ were Sandy. 
 
 £^:tr;™;:::-3-p."eh^^ 
 
 stated about Ferrers; an"^ "aT „" V""" '" '^^* ^ ^ave 
 I requested you to come to England it T'''''' ^^'^'"^'^^^ 
 he ^hole business thoroughly a^il ,,^ ^f ^^^ *« investigate 
 Imsband; not. however, in th/'honl^. '^' '""'"^^ ^^^^e n,y 
 n^ake any change in the det rLn'rn \ u ^'" ^"'^"^^ ^im to 
 long before the fatal paragrrh J "h ^ ' *'^'"'" '"''''^^^ 
 "16;" ^ ^'^^P^' ^*« heart was turned againS 
 
 "jVot his heart." said A.,i 
 Ji«a ai„k he's veVsld?„4: Lt"^' """'^ «» "-d. I 
 ship." ' "'°"'*J«''«"ient about your ledd/ 
 
 -^^«i:,r:::;^::^s^;'^onotcanhi3jud, 
 
 rectitude and discernment 7^ f f ^'"'" ^^^^^ony to its 
 The Siddonian maTes ' nd „at^ '' '"'"^^^ '"^ ««W' 
 -ade our hero thril/t^r^Sn" t^' ^'^^ ^^ -'^. 
 Riversdale, unable to suppress hT^pn^, "'' '*^"' ^^h"« I^ord 
 «ne of the windows, stood 1? • '"' ''''^ ""'^ talking to 
 
 agitated. He wa, Cwever ^1": ^^ ^-^ out, deeVy 
 " Augusta," said he « Iwi 1 I '''^'' ^''^' ^^^n^e. ^ ^ 
 that he can s'uffer su'^ iii^n %Tl '' '' ^""P-^^^^ 
 "?ust, indeed, be deplorably fU^rfrom h"'' " •" ^''"-^"'^ ^^ 
 
 It: "^" ^e ^n-ihie to L .::/:^z-;s^^:^^ 
 
 better. But no-for till itely I knew 'V^"^?/ ^'^^ ^"^^^ "« 
 he received by .«andyford in comoassTon "^T^^' ^ ^"' "^^e'' 
 
 an object of his pityino, not ev^n o h r '^ 
 
 no hmg ]es3 than his lo^-notTha I srr""'^' ^^"^ '"^e 
 
 but because I would now deserve it " ^ '' '^ "^'"« ^^ ^%ht. 
 
CHAPTER LXI.— MAGXANIMITT, 281 
 
 "WeeU think, my lord," said our hero, "was ever twa sic 
 duevils buckles cleckit, to fash simple folk, like you and me as 
 this mighty madam and her flea-luggit lord ? Odsake if it 
 werena for ae thing mair than anther, I would grip the t'wa by 
 the cuff of the neck, and baud their noses to the grindstane- 
 they deserve no mercy ! But, my lord, the sorrow's in them or 
 they get the better o' me. We'll e'en awa' to Chastington Hall 
 and see what Bn-ky, or Belzebub, or whatever ye like to ca that 
 thrawn gude-brother o' your's, has to say tiU't; for I'll no let 
 them ding me, noo that my heart's set to mak them happy in 
 spite o' their teeth." ^^^' 
 
 " Y';'^ ^;« an incomprehensible being," replied Lord Rivers- 
 dale, and I feel the force of your good sense constraining me 
 to act, where delicacy, although it is my sister's case, almost 
 makes me shrink from any further proceeding." 
 
 "Poo! what's delicacy, my lord," exclaime'd Andrew laugh- 
 ing, but a bashful missy sort o' thing? I hae nae broo o'sic 
 havers when Im in earnest; so we'll just take back the chaise 
 your lordship came hither in, and set oflPto Chastington without 
 ony more parley about the matter." 
 
 "I doubt," said Riversdale, "my health will not allow me to 
 travel either so fast or so far." 
 
 " Noo, that comes of your delicates," cried Andrew. " If ye 
 nadna been nursing your hypochondriacs to make thera thrive 
 ye would never hae thought about the travel or the road' 
 Odsake, my lord, if ye're long in my hands, I'll put mair smed- 
 dum m you ! So just come away at ance, and leave the countess 
 to play at the chucks with her thimble, a bawbee, and a tama- 
 rind stane, till we come back. Indeed, my lord, ye maun gae 
 m me, for I m playing the truant ouer lang ; and if Mr Vellum 
 didna think I was on some business of Lord Sandyford's I 
 wouldna be surprised if he gave me a loofy when I gaed hame " 
 The impetuosity of Andrew succeeded, and they wore in the 
 course of a few minutes, on the road to Chastington Hall 
 
282 
 
 SIB andSejv WYLIE. 
 
 CHAPTER LXII. 
 
 FORTr!(E.TEI.tI»». 
 
 After the trial, the gipsies, who had so abruptly left the 
 
 leTrn^r .'' '"'"^'* ^"""''^ Chastington, whithefthey ha 
 learned our hero was expected to return with the earl [and 
 having encamped under the park-wall, they gleaned from a^ong 
 the woodmen and labourers something of the situation of Lord 
 and Lady Sandyford, and of the familiarity with which Wylie 
 was treated by his lordship. The principal motive of thi 
 journey was, doubtless, dictated by gratitude, in order to offer I 
 heir thanks, in a more formal manner than they could well do 
 m the town where they were so much objects of interest. 
 
 1 hat there are persbns in the worid who not only pretend to 
 possess, but believe they actually do possess supernatural dis^ 
 cernment, and also a very numerous multitude, of all degrees 
 and ages, who give them full credit, cannot b; denied. Tar 
 
 our old gipsy woman had the most perfect confidence in her own 
 oracular powers. 
 
 On the morning after the trial she was lingering about the 
 portal of the hall, when the eari came out, and^she immediatet 
 addressed him. " We have come," said she, " to thank you and j 
 the clear spirit m the small tabernacle for the salvation we enjoy 
 
 e^e^ thH r ' ";• '^ t"'""^' *« '' y-^ bidding, wher sT- 
 ever the task maybe. Is there aught wherein our hands may 
 work or our spirits toil, or our skill serve, or our good-will aTd^ 
 Speak, and g^ve us pleasure ! " And she paused abruptly and 
 looked steadily in his lordship's face. ^ ^' 
 
 « Why do you look so at me ? » exclaimed the eari surprised, 
 and m some degree offended. "'i^nseu, 
 
 "1?'''L^ 7'"^ '" ^""' ^'^'■*' '"y ^^'^" ^as the reply, 
 thff '"I I "' yourself--u vision in your dreams, my lU, 
 that you banish on waking," ^ ' 
 
 The frame of mind in which his lordship was at the time, and 
 
so abruptly left the 
 on, whither they had 
 with the earl; and 
 gleaned from among 
 le situation of Lord 
 Y with which Wylie 
 pal motive of this 
 le, in order to offer 
 they could well do 
 s of interest, 
 not only pretend to 
 s supernatural dis- 
 ude, of all degrees 
 t be denied. Far, 
 ipticism to the pre- 
 it was certain that 
 ifidence in her own 
 
 ngering about the 
 id she immediately 
 ' to thank you and 
 salvation we enjoy, 
 bidding, whereso- 
 in our hands may 
 nir good-will aid? 
 sed abruptly, and 
 
 the earl surprised, 
 
 was the reply, 
 dreams, my lord, 
 
 s at the time, and 
 
 CHAPTER I-XII.— FOBTUNE-TEUING. 283 
 
 the dnge of melancholy with which his reflections had for se. eral 
 months been embued, made him peculiarly susceptible to Let 
 ful impressions, and he felt something akin to dread at 1' 
 singular apostrophe. The sharp-sighted gipsy perceived the 
 .nfluence of her crafty mysticism, and spok!, i/a 1 w nd con 
 fiding accent, to the following effect :-" There are times and 
 seasons when the stars above favour intents below^ wZ the 
 
 held out his hand. " * ' ""^ °' ^" ^^'^ 
 
 "This palm is empty," said the old woman. 
 ,Jm. ^°*'"^' '^ •"" Wf-a-or„™ into it from his 
 
 Wrns to press its feUow in Hndn'ess. TOaf o j ::T' "" 
 ■I hope no eviu; said the earl, thrown offh , i"„,. 
 
 J if:t.rtr:.rnr"Tt'i "iJrV ^-" •-' 
 
 but I am mistaken, the sS "how, on Iv" ^T" ''""' ' 
 
 speak without offence" ^"* " ^ ""'^^'^ 
 
 "Certainly," said the earl. 
 
 The sorceress then looked at him severelv nn,i • i .< t 
 -:th spirits, and yours commune^Slbe tII ' T'^ 
 ring I saw is not brolcen_vo„ ^L^t'^T-, ^he wedding. 
 
 |)our own flesh, causingloyourse'^s^S^^^ 
 The old woman then broke out wUli ^^.^ sorrow. 
 
 I- Pr^iced. in a ion, rhtptdro/^^S'tS': 
 
284 
 
 SIR ANDEEW WYLIE. 
 
 endles, life of conjugal blis, to hi, lorddip, which had the eff« 
 
 p^ic.i„„,, hi, ™i„d r„'.iteir5^'"a„tttii 
 
 .nto the house, after liberally rewardins her th„„l^. 1 
 
 ruS7;;;tr'"^'"*™°^''»''«-«-Sri^ 
 
 himself ,0 her r^''""^"' '= 'k™ ^''Wmed, addressing 
 
 ;;l have resd his fortune," was the emphafie tpl, '""^ ' 
 
 wiMidt-si^:-r„i'tfi'^srrtr.r 
 
 around him, but it is not night-the summer nf^"^ - " 
 to come, and along the avenu^e of fZrTZ^J ^i^lt?' '^ ''' 
 to sleep on his mother's bosom, I beheirthe'rl m 
 the oak of manhood bend thSr bloomfn! ! T ^T^ """^ 
 honour over him." bloommg and green heads in 
 
 "Awa, awa, the deil's ouer grit wi' vou»" ori^ a a 
 endeavouring to laugh, while he footed atW Rxvldde i^l' 
 inwardly confessed his faith in what she said; «C t'^^^^^ 
 
CHAPTER IXIII. — A FRIEND. 
 
 285 
 
 Ihalf-a- crown for boding so meikle luck to my lord, and when ' 
 
 (have time, I must see if ye can wyse to me a bonny lass with r 
 
 I heap o' siller." 
 
 The fortune-teller, in the instant, was evidently kindling 
 
 I again into another paroxysm; but Lord Riversdale peevishly 
 pulled UD the window, and requested the post-boys to drive on. 
 "Is it possible," said he, "that Scndyford could listen to the hag's 
 
 [nonsense?" 
 
 " Trouth, my lord, it's very possible, and I wouldna be cur- 
 prised that she had done mair to bring him into a right way of 
 thinking than both of us, without her help, could have done." 
 
 ' "You seem to undervalue his lordship's good sense, if you 
 eq)ect any such effect," was the sharp remark of the viscount. 
 
 " Ye're a' wrang, my lord," replied our hero. " If the yerl 
 had as little sense us the rest of the world, it might be so; but 
 he's what's ea'd a man o' genius, and he'll create, by his own 
 ingenuity, something rational out of the auld wife's raving, that 
 would never enter ony common head." 
 
 In this sort of conversation they continued speaking, ti'il the 
 chase arrived at the portal of the mansion. On alighting there. 
 Lord Riversdale was conducted to one of the dravnng-rooms, 
 and our hero alone sought the earl in the library, where he was 
 sitting by himself in a reverie, and perhaps rnconsciously still 
 under the influence of the gipsy's rh\psodie8. 
 
 CHAPTER LXin. 
 
 "This winna do," cried Andrew seriously, on observing the 
 absent and melancholy look of Lord Sandyford; " your lordship's 
 like a fat goose, drapping awa' ; and if ye're no ta'en frae the 
 fire, ye'U soon no be worth the taking." 
 
 " Ha, Wylie ! " exclaimed the earl, " what has become of you ? 
 Why did you ouit me so abrup Jy ?" 
 
286 
 
 SIH ANDREW WTLIE. 
 
 stotted yoursel' out o' the room like a birsled pea ? " 
 
 ."Well, but where have you been? ^at have you been 
 doing ? rejoined his lordship. ^ 
 
 "It'll require thought to answer twa questions at once; and 
 
 Iherefore I think we may as weel, for the present, set tliem by 
 
 nands for I have got dreadful news," said our hero, still gravely 
 
 T "^"f^^^'-What are theyP-Have you heard any thing 5 
 
 Lady Sandyford ?" cried the earl eagerly. ^ ^ 
 
 " Your lordship, ye ken, has debarred me from speaking anent 
 her case, poor leddy ; but what I have heard is aSother'sort 
 
 tetL2w°'"^' '''' '''''''''' ''' --' --^ «- 
 "Have the French landed?" said his lordship gaily, endea- 
 
 vounng to rouse himself out of his moping humour 
 
 "I'll no say the king's enemy has come to England; but 
 
 somebody has come that your lordship, I'm thinking, will io be 
 
 overly pleased to see-Lord Biversdale." 
 
 ^ j^Yes," said the earl, " he has come home ; I heard of his being 
 
 " Yes, he's come ; and it was at the request of my leddy, the 
 countess," replied Andrew. ^ ^' 
 
 "Was it by your advice?" enquired his lordship sternly. But 
 
 Z'^r-TTv". '""'r^^'"^ ^y the severity of his manner, 
 he felt indeed like the surgeon who probes the wound of a 
 pa lent whom he esteems; and he disregarded the pain or the 
 irritation which he at the moment occasioned. 
 
 ;'I think, my lord," said he, earnestly and unaffectedly, "that 
 It 18 not possible to prevent me from speaking to your lordshin 
 about my leddy Things come round that oblige me to interS' 
 as If I were ordained by heaven to be a mean of mending you; 
 broken happiness. Look, my lord, how the course of fortune 
 works to that end : I was a friendless lad, and ye gied me a nest- 
 
 ■" . -.-- --' c,--animity ut juur own free-wiil; that was as 
 
 a retaining fee to make me serve you, through weal or woe, a' 
 my days. Then came my forgathering in the wood with the 
 gipsies, which led me to get a glimpse of the history of the bairn 
 of the Rose and Crown. Syne came on the crookit case of the 
 
 »««« ■mmMMMWM 
 
CHAPTER LXm. A FRIEND. 
 
 287 
 
 iripl, wherein the hand of an overruling providence was made 
 visible, as if to admonish your lordship to have some confidence 
 in me, your bound and obligated humble friend and true servant. 
 Then when ye refused to do justly and to love mercy, as I would 
 have counselled your lordship, ye turned your back upon me, 
 and left the room ; but Fate's stronger than man. My Lord 
 Riversdale, when ye were gone, came in— a very wonderful and 
 mysterious thing, my lord ; and although he's no a very placable 
 I commodity, he listened to reason, and we have been thegither to 
 iiear what the countess had to say for herself." 
 
 " And what dM she say ? " exclaimed the earl with emotion , 
 for our hero had skilfully turned this address to chime in unison 
 with the mood in which the gipsy's prediction had left his loro- 
 ship; but suddenly checking himself, he added, proudly, "Wylie, 
 I think this is useless conversation. ThourV Lady Sandyford 
 were innocent of the suspected guilt, that fa. would make no 
 change in my determination. I will not disguise what you see 
 clearly enough— that I still bear towards her much of my early 
 affection; and often I think to myself that surely she is not 
 naturally that automaton which she has ever been with me. But 
 it is impossible for me to submit again to lead with her the life 
 that we have so miserably led together." 
 
 " That," said Wylie, " may be a very rational resolution in 
 the opinion of your lordship; but it is, I'm thinking, needful 
 that it should be explained to the satisfaction of others. Lord 
 Riversdale will no be overly content that his sister should dree 
 the penance of an ill-doer, merely because your lordship doesna 
 think she has been so cordial with you in all your vagaries as in 
 the thoughtlessness of youth ye maybe expected." 
 
 " I do not think that I'm obliged to enter into any explanation 
 with Lord Riversdale on the subject. Lady Sandyford went away 
 of her own accord." 
 
 "That's no the point," cried Andrew; "that's no just what I 
 was ettling at. Lord Riversdale has a right, and the world has 
 a right, to know why it is that your lordship is to be aUowed to 
 indulge your own fancies with impunity, to the damage and 
 detriment of a noble Icddy." 
 The earl looked amazed at the intrepidity with which this 
 
288 
 
 SIR ANDREW WYLIE. 
 
 was expres ed, and then said, «' There is something about yo« 
 
 111 """'"T '"^ ^"^ qnarrellingwith you; but^ 
 
 any other man spoken to me witli such an accent "-1 
 
 You would have done well to listen to him," interrupted 
 Andrew calmly. "My lord, ye're in the wra^g; ye're 
 wrang; ye may set up the golden image of your ow^ JpinioJ 
 
 ck Iv theTf T ""^ ^' ''^"" ^"^ -«-^^P before it'; esp" 
 loSio V; ' 1 '"J "^"' '«'• "^y "^« "^dit, would have yl 
 lordsh.p beloved and respected. Your kindness to me I would 
 reckon a disgrace to enriure, if I didna think your lordship 
 nature and habit, a man from whom it was an honour obL | 
 " ^:Z^r- ^b-- -y lord, you Will have ^l 
 
 vJni? ""'^l """*' ^^^''^; """' ^"^ "*^''" ™^" «» the subject ; I do 
 violence to my own feelings in endudng to be so letturLd t 
 
 '; I never doubted that ; and if there wasna a restraining power i 
 
 lilttlf f rAt ^^" '^^'^^ ™^' yewouldn?;: 
 bri-skfy. '* ^ ^^'' '"^'^' ^"^^ «« 1°"^'" «'-i«'i Andrew | 
 
 his"t« ";l•''•^^•"'^^ ^'"^^^"^'^' ^^^'•^^ly^ble to preserve 
 his temper, "this is driving me to the wall with a vengeance '" 
 
 and he rose and walked to one of the windows. Our hero who 
 had been standing during the whole conversation, waU^n 
 silence for about a minute, and he then said, "Shal I ring t 
 bell for Lord Riversdale ? " ^ 
 
 « Yes " t '^!^"'' r '"'*^ '^' '"'^^ '"^''^^ ^y the question. 
 Yes was the cool answer; " he came with me ; and tlio 
 sooner the business is done the better." 
 
 His lordship made no reply, but walked several times hurriedly 
 a ross the floor turning up the curls from his forehea.1 wi H 
 hand, and breathing thickly. Andrew was alarmed at hi ad- 
 
 to ZCl h f 'r"'"'; "'"' ''' ""'^ "™^ '^^ -^-tly ma^e 
 to control his feelings, bnt wifhm.f nfR,„t . „_ j .„• j , "^ 
 
 of sorrow an-i -^i^.^^- " t "J::: \' ""^ =^'^' ^" »" accent 
 
 is ill." 
 
 "Not 
 friend ! " 
 
 further 
 exclaimed 
 
 anxiety, " I have gone too far: your lordship 
 
 than a friend should go-not further than 
 the earl, but without locking at him. 
 
CHAPTER LYSV. — DECISION. 
 
 289 
 
 Several minutes of silence succeeded ; during which his lord- 
 bliip so far mastered himself that he sat down and said, with 
 considerable ease, " It must, I perceive, Wylie, come to that at 
 last. I will see Riversdale, but not yet ; in the course of a short 
 time bring him to me." 
 
 Our hero immediately moved to retire ; but in glancing back 
 towards the earl he was struck with the ghastly paleness of his 
 countenance, and stopped. " Wylie," said his lordship, with a 
 voice of the most penetrating pathos, " you have made me feel 
 that I have been acting an unworthy part; not only my happi- 
 ness, but my honour is in your hands." 
 
 Andrew was profoundly affected, and took two steps towards 
 the earl, with the intention of saying something ; but his tongue 
 refused its office, and he turned suddenly round and quitted the 
 room. 
 
 CHAPTER LXIV. 
 
 The interview between the earl and Lord Riversdale was 
 conducted with some degree of formality on each side. The 
 conversation was opened by the latter, expressing his regret at 
 the unhappy incompatibility of mind, which had caused a meet- 
 ing of so cold a character between them ; and he thence took 
 occasion to revert to the circumstances connected with the child 
 and with Ferrers, observing, how easily it would have been to 
 have proved the guilt of Lady Sandyford, if the slightest enquiry 
 had been instituted. 
 
 " Had it been of any conse([uence to me personally, no doubt," 
 replied the earl, " I should have instituted the investigation you 
 or)(>i^j{ Qp Tisit ff.elin"" OS a man of honouri that I could with no 
 justice take any legal steps against her ladyship, it was my 
 motive to allow her to enjoy all the benefit of that forbearance." 
 
 " But my sister is innocent, is pure from all stain," said 
 Iliversdale, with animation. 
 
 8. « 
 
290 
 
 
 *z 'j *\ 
 
 SIB ANDREW WrilE. 
 
 of ZS" '° "'"'""°"'' ^■'•■' ™» «"< »«- and pome „„„t 
 
 " ^'hat then is to be done ?_WJm, • u 
 consequences of imputed guil " c^ej tl '" "^^" ^" *'^« 
 sharply. "^ ^ '^ *'"^'* ^^'^ viscount, somewhat 
 
 ." My lord," replied the earl, « do no^ l«f 
 ;n^sconception of this unhappy busLss I "^' ^""^ ""^''' ""^ 
 to love your sister, and I shaU bTpTud 1,""" "'''" '''''^ 
 promote her happiness. She lives bu^for i , """"^ '^'"^ '' 
 crowd, and I will supply her to thV . ^f ^^^iration of the 
 
 to gratify her vanity'^ on,v on^"* 'T^ '' ™^ ^°«°™« 
 of her no more." ^ ""^ *^'' condition, that I hear 
 
 dale, with an^ccenrjbi'et thT,';"r'''>"^'^ ^-- 
 off his guard. He, however ma^nt!' 1^"' '^"'^^ ^^"^^^^^d 
 coldly- ' °''^^''' ™a^«tamed lumself so far, as to say 
 
 " Certainly I do not know her-if wh„f T 
 indemnify her for the loss of mv o ^'^P"'^ ^"^ "»* 
 
 -uld beg your attention oneTmSr- ''"'' "^ ^«^^' ^ 
 together man and wife-in all thTt u ""' ^''"^ ^°'- ^^^^-^ 
 from error to error, rushi g^^td toTuin Th"^ ^'""^'"^ 
 sion to her a pane ? Did J.o . "' ^'^ '*■ «ver occa- 
 
 infatuation ? Grid ever th! 1''' /"'^' '^"^ ^^'''•^ *« ^^eck my 
 from .er one word f Zt :^^^^^^^^^^ "^ -"^""o" draw 
 
 need speak to me of the pow rs^? Ladv 7"";^;^ ' ^° ™- 
 could be more surprised tLnTl^ ^'"^'^^''^'^^ mind-none 
 guilt imputed to ner nil T ^* '"'"'^ «»«h derogatory 
 ;he evidLe bri^HrmTdtrfi mT f : • "•'"^f ^ «' 
 '"as convinced you of her innocence I betvp V ''"''' *^"' ^^^ 
 mnocent-not merely because, as you sat her T' '"'"^'^ 
 guilty, could be so easily proved -1,^ ^' ! ^"'^*' '^"'"^ «^« 
 in unison with the opinion whth T . ^''' declaration is 
 
 a moral persuasion that tl j ^ V """'''' ""^^'^ «haracter- 
 to shake' But I wouldrsoonlr'""'^^^^ "''"^'^ ^^ '^i--^^ 
 my bosom fn. „ J^^^ !f '"""/'^'^^ «"« "^ these china jars into 
 - - ••'... as .he cold, the formal, the not less artifl: 
 
 -^i?Si.::-^;tKr'-r 
 
 me 
 
 me not only the 
 
 ' ,' — ^■^'^•^^mmm^mm^'^ 
 
and polite remark 
 
 CHAPTER LXIV. — DECISION. 
 
 291 
 
 gations. I siis- 
 replied Rivers- 
 irew Sandyford 
 so far, as to say 
 
 'opose will not 
 ut, my lord, I 
 were for years 
 wie plunging 
 i it ever ooca- 
 : to check my 
 ntrition draw 
 >n? No man 
 I mind — none 
 h derogatory 
 omplexion of 
 ^ice that she 
 most entirely 
 ilt, were she 
 eciaration is 
 character — 
 I be required 
 inajara into 
 t less artili- 
 J'ou tell ine 
 ot only the 
 
 cause of much misery, but an enigma that has made me doubt 
 the value of my own senses. For I do confess to you, that I 
 have often thought there were the elements of great sensibility 
 in your sister, but they as often eluded all my endeavours to 
 call them forth— while she herself had no sympathy for others. 
 Our hero, who was present, and had hitherto sat silent, here 
 interposed, and said, " True, ray lord; but now she kens what 
 drinkers dree, for humiliation takes the stone out of the heart, 
 as my auld schoolmaster used to say, when he punished tht' 
 pnde of camstrarie laddies— and her leddyship's a creature of a 
 new birth." 
 
 The explanation which Lord Sandyford had given of his feel- 
 ings, made a profound impression on the sensitive and too deli- 
 cate Riversdale, and he remained, after this address of our hero, 
 for some time silent and thoughtful. He then rose, and said tJ 
 the earl— 
 
 " My lord, I enter into the full feeling of your sentiments, and 
 will proceed no further in this business. I lament the misfortune 
 of my sister, but I fear it is beyond remedy." 
 
 The earl bowed, and was changing the conversation to some 
 general topic of the day, when Andrew started up, and cried, 
 " Heavens and earth, sirs ! are ye in your right senses ? Is all 
 my wark, and pains, and trouble, to end in a clishmaclaver about 
 the hobleshow in France? My lord, how is this? and you. 
 Lord Riversdale, are ye doited ? Is Leddy Sandyford to pine in 
 grief, under the cloud of dishonour, because the tane o' you 
 makes blethers sound like sense, which the other .akes for gospel ?" 
 
 And in saying these words he abruptly left the room, and 
 witliout ceremony throwing himself into the post-chaise in which 
 he had come with Lord Riversdale, and which still stood in the 
 court, he was beyond the park-gate, and on the road to Bre- 
 tonsbield Castle, before the two noblemen recovered from the 
 astonishment which his vehemence and sudden departure had 
 produced. 
 
 He reached the gate just as the countess was sitting down to 
 her early solitary dinner. Her ladyship saw, as he precipitately 
 entered, that he brought some important news, and ordering the 
 servants to retire instantly, rose from table. 
 
292 
 
 SIR ANDREW WTLIE. 
 
 (MM 
 
 has in your wee tiJer- l^ ^°"''' ^' y«"'' ^eddyshlp 
 
 mean p^. "'"'^^^'''^ ^^^"'^^i her seat, and said, " What do you 
 
 "What do I mean!" re-echoed our hero "Th„. ' 
 lang here. I'm no, however in r / "** ^^""^ ^^^r 
 
 outs and ins of wha hrZed Bn^T". '' '^" ^^^^ ^" ^^e 
 flowerpot, and for that hei„o take v "^^ ^ ^'^'^ ^'^'' ^ '^^"^ 
 -ally of a brother sy.npatWzes C^thTe t ' "' ^''"^ ""'^■ 
 Jny leddy, be whaf vl / . ^'^''^^ nonsense. Noo 
 
 hif hearfs you' ,^ he ^0^! "^^l! T *° ^"^'^ «- W- 
 Confound him w Uh vot w f. ^'. '^'^ ""^ ^"^ ^^^« '" '^^urn. 
 has made you fed so Civ h' '"' "'^' *^^* ""''^^ ^P-^* that 
 
 your days is Wto coma" " '^'"^'"^^ the summer of baith 
 
 The countess smiled, and said " T r,n. • 
 given me up, and tha vnn ?/ ^ "^''''' ™^ ^"""ther has 
 
 >-ith you. It is an In Tl ""' "^ ^"^"'J- I -»1 go 
 «ffii . ^° atonement that I make fnr *!,« u ^ 
 
 at J to r eSS 7' "''•" f ' " '""'«» " ""y "" Wie 
 
 CHAPTER LXV. 
 
 tOVE IN A DICKEY. 
 
 
CHAPTER LXV. — LOVE IN A DICKET. 
 
 293 
 
 That je're ouer 
 > tell you all the 
 lys ye're a china 
 and your willy, 
 lonsense. Noo, 
 rd Sandyford— 
 
 give in return. 
 »oble spirit that 
 orious acknow- 
 uramer of baith 
 
 mdyford, on 
 me agitated, 
 but insisted 
 
 that her amiable abigail, Flounce, should mount the dickey with 
 him; for being driven by post-horses, it was in consequence 
 empty, her ladyship not choosing to take any of her father's ser- 
 vants along with her. 
 
 "Up, Mrs Flounce," said he, as she was on the point of step- 
 ping into the carriage after her mistress ; " up aloft. I'm going 
 with you, and we can court there so cosily ; who knows but ye 
 may get a smart husband before long?" 
 
 Flounce was one of those sensitive maidens, who never happen 
 to be seated near a man without thinking of a lover; and she 
 replied, with a giggle, as she eyed the dickey, " Don't be foolish 
 —don't talk such stuff to me." 
 
 In the mean while he had shut the carriage-door. 
 
 "Weel, weel," said Wylie, "we'll speak of that again; buc 
 mount, my dawty." And with that he assisted her into the 
 dickey, and was immediately at her side. 
 
 " Flounce," said he, when they were seated, " I have long 
 had a great desire to hae some pleasant and canny conversation 
 with you; for I hae a notion that ye're a lass of no small dis- 
 cretion." 
 
 The bosom of the inflammable abigail beat quickly, and she 
 repUed, I beg, Mr Wylie, that ye'll not talk none of that there 
 nonsense to me ; for I can assure you, sir, that I don't like no 
 such larking ; so I beg you'll be quiet." 
 
 "E'en's ye like, Meg Dorts!" exclaimed our hero, glad of an 
 opportunity to end the badinage, which he was really at that 
 time not in a humour to carry on, and he remained silent— sulky, 
 as Flounce thought, on account of the proper spirit she had 
 shown ; but at last she began to fancy, that perhaps she had 
 been a little too hard-hearted. 
 
 In the hurry and occupation of his mind, Andrew had entirely 
 neglected to think of any dinner; but now that he was in some 
 degree relieved from his anxiety, and driving as merrily along in 
 a fine bracing air, as four post-horses could bear him. Nature, 
 who never fails to vindicate any negligence, craved at last her 
 due share of attention, and he felt himself exceedingly hungry. 
 Entirely forgetting what he had been saying to Flounce, though 
 it engaged her most serious cogitations, he again addressed her 
 
294 
 
 SIR ANDREW WTLIE. 
 
 iTuSVrp!!;^^* '!r* "^ ^^'^'' ^" ^'' ^°'««' "Od, Mrs Flounce 
 but I feel something very queer about my heart." 
 
 was the unaffected reply; to which he added, glanc nga a bS 
 which Flounce held in her lap, and from ;hich thfneck of 
 p.nt-bo tie protruded from the midst of tawdry second-hand 
 arUflcialW^^ 
 
 " Nothing for you," said she, with a giggle. 
 Robbery!" exclaimed he, in a jocular tone; but altogether 
 un onscjous of what was passing in her bosom-" rSv 
 
 Zts? ' '"" "^''^ ^' ^"^ ^^'^^^^ «»«-'h thae gum. 
 " That you sha'n't, take my word on't," replied Flounce with 
 a jocund tartness ; " so keep your distance, I say, and not' 2 
 for to go such lengths with me." lu not otter 
 
 "Noo really. Flounce, this is very cruel of you; for my heart 
 begins to fail me, and I would be vastly obligated for o^/thn, 
 of a cordial nature that ye can bestow." ^ ^ 
 
 The tender damsel began to feel her severity yielding to this 
 sincere importunity; but still, for the honour an^dignify of th 
 
 suf^iSrv'atir?' '"^ ^^" *° '"^^ ''^' ' '^-•^ '^'^^y 
 
 at discretion. 111 tak you by storm;" and a struggle ensued in 
 which Flounce made a most Amazonian resistancf ' 
 
 bv Vhp h ^' T""' """' '"''''■'-' ' ^''*' ^"«t««d of seizing her 
 by the hands, and pressing them with a lover', ardonr ho t"ok 
 
 grtrflun: hef ^^ '^ ''' '^"'^^' ^"^ ^^-^^"^ ^^'^^ ^^ 
 whTch with t. ^^^""^7' "^"^' ""'^ ^'•^^ «"* * ««W veal-pie, 
 which, with the pint-bottle-and that contained cherry-brandy 
 -Flounce had provided for her own particular solac,. ^ 
 
CHAPTER LXV. — LOVE IN A DICKEY. 
 
 29.5 
 
 i, Mrs Flounce, 
 
 'e the convers"^- 
 iich things, Mr 
 
 oething soon to 
 It the journey," 
 uing at a basket 
 the neck of a 
 y second-hand 
 eye got in that 
 
 but altogether 
 — " Robbery is 
 I hae a great 
 th thae gum- 
 
 jlding to this 
 lignity of tlie 
 i she replied, 
 )n't like any 
 
 n't surrender 
 le ensued, in 
 
 f seizing her 
 our, he took 
 it from her 
 aid veal-pie, 
 )rry- brandy 
 
 Flounce at first affected a Juno-like indignation at the rape 
 of the basket, while in her secret bosom, palpitations of delight 
 reconciled her to the outrage. But as she was declaring her 
 displeasure of the monstrous rudeness, and enjoying, at the 
 same moment, the sweet anticipations of such an ardent passion, 
 Andrew laid voracious hands on the pie, which quickly disap- 
 peared, and he completed its obsequies by a draught from the 
 bottle. 
 
 " I'm a great deal the better o' that," said he, as he coolly 
 handed back the basket, which Flounce examined as she received 
 it ; and seeing the pie had disappeared, cried, " Come, come, 
 Mr Wylie, none of your tricks upon travellers. What have you 
 done with the pie ? " 
 
 " What hae I done wi't ? Put it to the use for which it was 
 created. I hae eaten't, and a very good commodity it was. The 
 spice, I trow, wasna spare't." 
 
 "Well, to be sure, this is one way of making love," said 
 Flounce to herself. 
 
 " It was a most merciful thing," resumed our hero, " that ye 
 brought the pie with you, Flounce, for really the wind had so 
 gaen about my heart that I was growing faint." 
 
 The mortified abigail sat amazed, and at a loss what to say 
 or do. Sometimes she eyed her companion disdainfully askance ; 
 at others, she looked into her empty basket, as if to ascertain the 
 actual disappearance of the pasty ; and anon she darted her keen 
 eyes forward, and elevating her neck with irrepressible ire, gave 
 her head two or three brisk shakes. 
 
 " What gars you snuff the wind at that gait, Flounce?" said 
 our hero. " I'll buy you twa bigger and better pies for't ony 
 day." 
 
 But the indignant waiting-gentlewoman was not to be conci- 
 liated by any siich sordid promises. Indeed, what woman, who 
 believed herself an object of the most tender solicitude, could 
 keep her temper, on discovering that all the eagerness wlilcli, to 
 her fond fancy, seemed so like love, was prompted by a base 
 and vulgar appetite to possess her pie ? Accordingly, during 
 the remainder of the journey, she was both dignified and distant 
 to our hero ; and when he attempted to renev.- his familiarity. 
 
296 
 
 SIR ANDREW WYLIB. 
 
 1 "" "ruB. 
 
 disconcerted b, her scor^ anT toorfiT' ''^''" ^'""^^'^ ^^^n 
 her, untU. no longer able o bridle L^ '''^' "^ *«™«n«"g 
 -;th such a volley of epithets tha A" ^r'/"''^ "^^^^"^ ^il 
 Chastmgton Hall, they had oL ..^ *^^ *''"« they reached 
 ;ould not pennit' hlL" tlTl^f f ^^ ^-««tiesf and 
 dickey; the consequence o^ which l V"" "^'^^* ^o^ the 
 and she came plump down upon th.' '^'' ^'' ^^"^ ^^pped 
 diversion of the post-boys and o^ th P"'""'"*' *" ^^e infinite 
 a carriage enter the couJ^rhad eoL: floT'%"'^' «" bearing ' 
 the mansion. ' ^"^ *''""« locking from all parts of 
 
 CHAPTER LXVI. 
 
 THE RECONCHUrio.V. 
 
 Foe some time after Wvli^ k„ j 
 and Lord Riversdale. they sat in^irh."^?^ ^"'"^'^ ^^e earl 
 .conversation was maintaiLd b utlo h f'"^'^"'^' ^ ^««"^tory 
 intervals of silence, that it was elenM^r' '"' ^'^^ ^"''^ ^^"^ 
 and that their minds y^erelar^etfVT'''^' of constraint^ 
 '"terest. Pandering to other objects of dearer 
 
 At last Riversdale rosp tr, «.„ 
 alluded to the situatii: ;Lf::r^' T^T ^^-^ --again 
 loss to divine the cuse of our hero's mV^" T ''' ""^^ at a 
 was but slightly acquainted with hl^^'f"'^ ''^^^"-' ^o^" he 
 humour to express what he fdt at 1 hT ""'^ P'^'^-^^aling 
 seemed at once .o extravagant a„d in r'""' ^^^^^ *« him 
 earl; the idea once or twicf occurred toT?'^^'?^- ^«* «« the 
 gone to bring the countess herse ? ^,/' '^''" '^'' ^^^rew was 
 persuasion that he would not venLe t IV"'''""'' '^' ^" '^« 
 1 1, owever, had the effect of j;^ ^^f -r* ^ ''^^^^^• 
 ^ys It unconsciously induced him fT '''^^"^' and per- 
 
 dmner with more elrnestn ss "an m '""' ^^^'"'"^^ ''^ 'tay 
 
 Persuaded that Andrewwase gatdon^L'h'^f"^^^ -^^^^^^^ 
 
 S gea on some business connected 
 
CIIAPTEB LXVI.— THE RECONCILIATION. 297 
 
 with the Object Of the viscount's visit, he was desirous that the 
 resul should be ascertained before they separated ; but the 
 mingled feelings with which he was agitated prevented him from 
 speaking on the subject. 
 
 The forenoon was passed between them as forenoons are 
 commonly passed by noblemen in the country. They conversed 
 on various topics such as ancient thrones overturned, old china, 
 battles lost, the abolition of the German empire, with disserta- 
 tions on the prices of pictures, interspersed with mournful eulo- 
 giums on the excellent qualities of deceased friends, and monstrous 
 good anecdotes of the most ridiculous characters living ; but no* 
 a word arose with respect to that business which had broug'<t 
 the one from Vienna ; and, with the anguish of a secret poison, 
 searched and penetrated the very core of the other's heart. 
 
 Ihe earl conducted his brother-in-law over the pa k, and 
 showed him the changes made and contemplated; and Rivers- 
 dale, who possessed a refined and elegant taste, suggested various 
 improvements. Every thing between them proceeded in the 
 most urbane manner ; but ever and anon Lor J Sandyford glanced 
 his eye towards the grand avenue, and made their walks wind 
 among the grounds immediately in the vicinity of the mansion. 
 btiU there was no appearance of our hero; and when rhe first 
 dinner-bell gave warning that it was time to dress, they returned 
 together, both perplexed and thoughtful ; insomuch, that had thev 
 been questioned as to the topics of their previous conversation, it 
 IS probable that neither the one nor the other could have ffiven 
 any rational answer. ^ 
 
 At last the sound of a carriage was heard to enter the portal- 
 and the earl, who had by that time met Riversdale again in the 
 
 drawing-room, became pale andagitated, and immediatelyrctired 
 boon alter, our hero came in alone; and taking a seat abruptly 
 without speaking, stretched out his feet, and lying back in the 
 chair, seemed to be gazing at the pictures on the ceiling, while 
 his eye was constantly turning with anxiety towards the door. 
 
 Lord Riversdale looked at him with the most intense curio- 
 sity; but a feeling which he could not master deprived him of 
 the power of speaking. 
 
 When Andrew had sat in this state for about five minutes, he 
 
298 
 
 8TE ANl>nEW WYIJR 
 
 Riversdale, " Dog „„•», b„. ,hi, is dSu" •• ' '""' '° '"'^ 
 
 " What have v„„ d™' ™ ."" »' ""f <l'»app™nln,e„t. 
 ".is strange and f^'ilnTr"* '"'"' '"™"'"'^ '^""'d V 
 
 lordship e.™,,;;. ''"'™' ''''"™ ^°»-'f'" «cI.in,<S W. 
 
 "When my head's round ajtain in if. ri.i,. . 
 but hae patience till then " ,^ „ t ? '""""'• Then ; 
 and more agiJUed. ' °'"' '"'™' '"'™"''"? still morj 
 
 ," ' '"" J -" resimed Rveradale. 
 
 behind" ,h°et„mt";'but'atr„r l"'.""' ™""'"^ ""'f™"- 
 «al">ly, "What sh uld lta° p Ih^'f '"»'"°'"'"'' """"lecl, 
 honesty required of me; the ssne, "efth ."';' I"'^ '""' 
 dence, and theycanna be in better M„? j T'^ °' ^""'■ 
 be racking ourselves at this g^, I o^^d ' T" ""' *">'' '" 
 dence in both Lord and AS^J ' n" t'"- "■'" ™«- 
 to a panic like this," ' """"Jlord, tt.an to give myself up 
 
 At these words, several hells were ran» l,„..-i 
 Ws heard in the gallery, which ij- * ^^'.''^' ""^ " ''™* 
 Riversdale i...™f.ive,yVned ,t ,-, 7 .■'■':-™»-«-- L-rf 
 was seen approaching. Andrew d "' ' ' blaze o. .ights 
 uttering a shout of gladness and d.i:„l.. TX *'™'* "'"^ and, 
 aod iu less than a min,ri:' ^^1\ ™'''^.'"'» ">e gallery, 
 
 -- "overseen anything halfttC^^:- rrrhot' 
 
1 steps towards the 
 limself, and walking 
 md looked gloomily 
 
 ran to rub his hair 
 last he said to Lord 
 
 ve occasion to cor 
 Andrew sf artod up 
 it was, h« shrunk 
 retired behind the 
 ppointment. 
 rsdale, alarmed by 
 
 impressive reply, 
 f!" exclaimed his 
 
 posture. Then; 
 ;oming still more 
 
 •unning out from 
 limself, he added, 
 It what duty and 
 hands of Provi- 
 ve're twa fools to 
 have mair confi- 
 ogive myself up 
 
 'ly, and a bustle 
 ng-room. Lord 
 
 blaze Oi eights 
 glance out. and, 
 nto the gallery; 
 ig the earl and 
 isfaction in his 
 i^s declared he 
 
 wondered how 
 
 CIIAPTEE LXVn -PATRONAGE. 
 
 299 
 
 a figure so mean, and a physiognomy so common, could bear the 
 impress of so much dignity. When they reached the middle of 
 the room, and when the servants, who on hearing of their lady's 
 arri.al attended with lights to conduct her along the galh'ry, 
 ! : '1 retired, Lonl Sandyford said, in a gay manner, which, how- 
 ever ■ ocame gradually serious and elevated, " What a pity it is 
 that the mythology of the poets is not true ! I should otherwise 
 this night have raised an altar to Mercury, and instituted some 
 social festival in honour of him, as Andrew Wylie. My friend, 
 you have taught me one thing ;— when we do an act of kindness, 
 it is the benevolence of Heaven directing us to achieve some 
 good for ourselves. The partiality that I from the first felt for 
 you, and which dictated to me that interest I must ever take in 
 your welfare, was the pure prompting of my better angel to work 
 out, through your means, the restoration of myself, of my hap- 
 piness, and of this noble woman's inborn latent worth." 
 
 " Weel, weel, my lord," cried our hero, hardly able to repress 
 the tears of joy that were starting into his eyes, " see that it be 
 sae, but the less that's said about byganes the better ; so, as the 
 dinner bell's noo ringing, wi' your leave to-day, my lord, only 
 to-day, I'll lead my leddy to her place at the table." 
 
 His lordship instantly took the countess by the hand ; and 
 with a look of thanks that was worth more than a thousand 
 pounds weight of gold, as Andrew afterwards said, presented her 
 to our hero. Lord Riversdale followed them mechanically ; for 
 the whole scene appeared to him as something which surpassed 
 his comprehension. 
 
 CHAPTER LXVII. 
 
 PATBONAOE. 
 
 Althhcgh our hero, actuated by gratitude and affection, had 
 laboured to effect the reconciliation of Lord and Lady Sandy- 
 ford by the most direct means, and with the most determined 
 energy; yet 'when the event was accomplished, it is not to be 
 
300 
 
 SIR ANDREW WYLIB. 
 
 ni^iKiiiy 
 
 but be sensi Je that n ^l J'"^!^^^"* P^^P^^e. He could not 
 for the enXs ttt w re"[o 'P-P":" '^ ^^^ ^''^'^^ - ^"Icrum 
 aU probabnUy he had SP Tfu ^'' "^" ^•^'•*""^' -"^ that, in 
 
 l"-m injustice, to sunnosp tl! .1 ^"* ^' '^'""^^ ^' ^oing 
 
 any chlnge iL hVlTu^rdlXr ^^^^ ^ ~ 
 »arlj- insinuaeed, forme,! In hi. . . , '""■' "' "« h"™ 
 he adhered with Z coin 1 \>''°" °' "'■'=■ """ "> *"« 
 
 endowed with. L'nherrZw "/ "" "^ " *""'" 
 
 Of w^,,, „^ fu«,!;p:;rd'';rhrL::'2'sfri"' 
 
 His lordship, on Zafkln ' u^ '''"''"''' ^« ^""'lon- 
 
 pecuh-ar hu.ots obsr' IhThe t^^ T-' -pHeity and 
 equally of the two famililS to unL !. "^ '' ''"' *^' ^"^^ 
 for his advancement ' ^''''^ ^"^^'•««* ^"d influence 
 
 we shall never insult the greatness nfT' 1 '"' ^"^"'^ ' ^"'> 
 
 , any favour, for we owe hir v I /hi " "n' "'"^ ^'^ "^^"-"^ 
 
 n^ote his happiness and his honou'" "^^ ^"^ ^''' '' '' P™" 
 
 -union, the subject ^S re^w^d ^XtV'^"^ ^" ^^^"' 
 part of the earl thnf ;« • " * declaration on the 
 
 his.h„,e fo2:ttVh:Si ;r;:7rr ■tir'-tr;*^^ 
 
 ■ngly, "Perhaps if you kLw ,Z 7- ' I"" I"! "dM laugh- 
 think there w^„„gCt„erlL-'"*' "^ '""^^ ^™ ^W 
 do ;. wi,h .he „„s. p^erfefrS"" "^ ^"^'"^ '»' «■»«'■ ' 
 
 Win IKrSr'Xr "a;.- 'r '"■"' ' °"«- "> "»• i 
 
 ';,.>» r -, ,, , ^ ™y own particular patrnpa-P- .„-> ^ « 
 •''•fio -^ snail do ou my return t^ *„ .,.' ^ ^ ' "" '"^ ^rst 
 
 ascertain what ,,„ ,-,, /,7„r " d ^r",!'" u" '° "» '"'"■ ""'' 
 
 influenee shall he exer.edt'h'ffet,:'''"''"'"'*''' »'"'-' 
 
 I douh,.,,„rd,. replied. he eari.„„ewha..aggi..,,_ 
 
 tfNf 
 
CHAPTER LXVII. PATRONAGE. 
 
 301 
 
 for he did not entertain the most awful respect for the talents or 
 the discernment of his lordship — " it will not be easy to ascer- 
 tain what he is fit for; but he is able, I think, for a greater office 
 than I conceive it is in your lordship's power to obtain." 
 
 " Lord Sandyford," said the marquis, with a manner that he 
 meant should be emphatic, "you have taken too little interest 
 in public affairs, to know the extent of my influence A?ith his 
 majesty's government, and you lean with too decided a bias to 
 the opposition, to appreciate the sort of talent requisite for office. 
 It is not the splendour of speculative ability that we seek, but a 
 plodding industry, that never tires at its task." 
 
 " True," said the earl, " I have been somewhat a truant in my 
 public duty ; but your lordship knows that were things properly 
 managed, the opinion of the few— and the wise are always the 
 few— would ever predominate." 
 
 " I am not surprised that such should be the sentiment of a 
 regular opponent to his majesty's government ; but, my lord, as 
 our political opinions can never coalesce, it is unnecessary to 
 discuss such topics," replied the marquis. 
 
 The earl was tempted to rejoin, " Unless there be a change of 
 ministry;" but he suppressed the sarcasm, and said cheerfully, 
 "Well, I commit him to your providence, my lord, and shall 
 long exceedingly till I know the rich effects." 
 
 The Marquis of Avonside, who imagined that it was necessary 
 for the safety of the state that he should be always on his post, 
 soon after this conversation returned to London, and immedi- 
 ately on his arrival sent for our hero ; for his lordship held it as 
 a maxim, that expedition was the soul of business. 
 
 The person of Wylie was not altogether unknown to the 
 marquis ; he had seen him frequently at Lady Sandyford's par- 
 tics ; but notwithstanding, he was a little startled when he saw 
 so insignificant a looking personage enter his library. After 
 requesting him to take a seat, and when he had resumed his own 
 chair at the writing-tahlo, his lordshin said^ in the most conde- 
 scending manner—" Both my Lord and Lady Sandyford have 
 recommended you to me in the strongest manner, and Lord 
 Riversdde also has expressed the most earnest solicitude that I 
 should use my influence in your behalf. Desirous to gratify the 
 
302 
 
 SIB ANDREW VTYLJB. 
 
 wishes of such dear relafmn. a 
 
 with the view of enquiring in who. ''"* ^"^ ^°" ^^is morniif. 
 serviceable to your interefts " "'""^'- '"^ ^"«»-- can £ 
 
 «H,:t^h^z:-S3,i^^ 
 
 '•«»§-ly. "'**'^^ ^"» to understand it the 
 
 «™g abroad in a »U„a«„„ "tjTf" °° "i* '«. m-lu. than 
 satisfaction, and misht in li! *^' ""' >>« 'We 'o rfw 
 
 «nd thorebylose thft Ud opinZ't- f"™' ^°'"- ""J^P 
 me than gold." "^^ °P'°'°°' """"h h of mair value to 
 
 profession I may have it in nTv „ ™ "^^- " B"e in your 
 
 " There can be no doute 7,^7" '" '^*' •™°-" 
 ■■'.•n your power to be tht ^llt' "' '"""-y-r loriship ha. 
 «th your own pleasure," repliM.L ™"' "'>«"««■■ " sMs 
 
 The „ar,„is .„;« i'„ tSsfi";: T """^• 
 with an accent of the greatest^on iT ''''°™' ™""<"-. <""> 
 «»-e yon, Mr Wy,ic,*th *Ct "T' 'f' " '''''™ ' ~ 
 any man than at this ti„,c, on y shrLTr "Tf"" '" -at' 
 
 This was coming effectualr» ,i .i ? " ""y- 
 »f «hc strict honour w ^w fcrM,r,"t: '"'' '^"''"'". »™ 
 mises, said, "I'm sure, my "rrd ' "'•'fv ■■«'«">«1 his pro- 
 '» «ay in the way of th™kfuS f„ t,"" "" '^'' "•"" ' °4l" 
 for some sma' time yet I ea„n!f ' , ' *^™' P«'™nage , but 
 
CHAPTER LXVIII. EETBOSPECTIONS. 
 
 303 
 
 appointment abroad," 
 
 I modesty and prudence increase my desire to serve you," replied 
 ; the marquis. " I will not, however, promise to make you my 
 agent, while my old friend Jack Docquet lives ; but he is now 
 above seventy, and of an apoplectic corpulency. However, you 
 may rely upon me ; and whenever my interest and influence can 
 be of use, freely command them." 
 
 This interview our hero ever justly considered as one of the 
 most important events in his life ; for the marquis spoke of him 
 not only as a prodigy of prudence, but possessed of the most 
 promising talents in his profession ; at the same time declaring 
 his own determination to patronize a young man who seemed 
 destined to confer so much lustre on his country. 
 
 CHAPTER LXVIII. 
 
 BETH08PECTI0NS. 
 
 Fob a considerable time after the reunion of Lord and Lady 
 Sandyford, no particular incident occurred in the life of our 
 hero. He continued to give the same plodding attention to his 
 duties in the office of Mr Vellum; but it was remarked by Pier- 
 ston, who was unacquainted with the important service he had 
 rendered to his patron, that he seemed to feel more confidence 
 in himself, and to move, as it were, with a freer spirit in the 
 world— the unconscious influence of being sensible that he had 
 obtained pledges of future prosperity. 
 
 With his grandmother he continued in the same dutiful cor- 
 respondence, through the medium of Mr Tannyhill; but while 
 he cheered her with the assurance of the sunshine that Heaven 
 continued to shed upon his prospects, he wrote with a temper- 
 ance and moderation that gave her no reason to suppose he had 
 met with any extraordinary instance of good fortune. 
 
 With Mr and Mrs Ipsey he had continued from his arrival on 
 the most intimate terms. The retired solicitor not only relished 
 humour, but was himself a humorist, and our hero had always 
 
304 
 
 SIB ANDBEW WYLIE. 
 
 a plate at h.s Sunday's dinner. The old gentleman ^as, indeed 
 his chief confidant, and by his experience enabled him to h 
 out the proceeds of his salaryr to the best advantage. On dif- 
 ferent occasions, Andrew had insisted on repaying the money 
 which was so generously advanced for his outfit; but Mr Ipsey 
 as often refused it in the most decided manner. After the 
 reconciliation of Lord and Lady Sandyford, however, partly with 
 he view of indirectly discharging the debt, but chiefly to express 
 the obligations that he felt himself under for the kindness h 
 had received from Mr Ipsey, he presented his kinswoman with 
 a handsome piece of plate, and from time to time continued to 
 make her small presents of lace, which he had observed was 
 almost the only article of finery that she admired; but ladies in 
 general whatever their stock and tastes may be, are particu- 
 ZL f ''t 7''^- ^'^'' "^ ^"^^' ^^P«^'^"y Mecklenburg, 
 doZslelllvr^""^^' ^'^" '' ''' ''- '-^^^'^ 'y ^^ 
 By these means, his character, without being materially raised 
 m the opinio, of his early friends, was fully established as a 
 young man of good sense, destined to acquire riches. His 
 grandmother and the schoolmaste. on the receipt of every ne>r 
 letter were tne more and more persuaded of this, and that he 
 would surpass all their brightest hopes. This persuasion, how- 
 ever, was not founded on any thing he said, but upon the con- 
 stancy ot success which seemed to attend him, and also upon 
 some imperfect report of the company in which he had been 
 London ' ''"'^ ^^'^ Cunningham during their visit to 
 
 With respect to Miss Cunningham, from fhe time she had 
 returned Martha 3aw her but seldom; and when she enquired 
 occasionally for Andrew, it was in a politer, but far less agree- 
 able manner, than before her visit to the metropolis. The old 
 woman remarked the difference in speaking of it to the master, 
 but ascnbed it to anxiety on her brother's account, who, after 
 - - -i „K, . .r,.,g„„,us, yiviv every day worse and worse, 
 insomuch, that towards the end of the year his recoveiy was 
 deemed hopeless. 
 
 Mr Tannyhill, who had ever taken the warmest interest in 
 
CHAPTER LXVIII. — RETROSPECTIONS. 
 
 305 
 
 rmest interest in 
 
 the destiny of his pupil, and which his situation as amanuensis 
 to Martha tended to foster, took a different view of the altera- 
 tion in the deportment of Mary Cunningham. Being occa- 
 sionally invited on the Sunday evenings to drink tea with Miss 
 Mizy and the laird, he had acquired a more distinct knowledge 
 of the sort of connexions which Andrew had formed ; for he had 
 led the conversation often to the subject, and it occurred to 
 him that our hero, presuming on his old familiarity with the 
 young lady, had, perhaps, too eagerly obtruded himself on her 
 notice, by which he had probably offended her pride, especially 
 as he observed, that when her aunt spoke of his behaviour in 
 terms of approbation, she sometimes expressed her astonishment 
 at the means by which he had managed to get himself intro- 
 duced into such fashionable society. 
 
 From an amiable solicitude to lessen any prejudice which he 
 thought adverse to the good opinion that he himself entertained 
 of his favourite, he took every opportunity of speaking in the 
 kindest manner of the affections and principles of Andrew ; and 
 when Miss Cunningham once happened to say a little petulantly, 
 " I wonder, Mr Tannyhill, what makes you think that I care to 
 hear about the oddity ? " he mildly rebuked her, by observing, 
 that " you canna, surely, Miss Mary, but take a pleasure to hear 
 of the well-doing cf a parish bairn ? Ye were brought up in 
 the innocence of childhood together — ye breathed the same pure 
 halesome air — beeked in the same sunshine — heard the same 
 bonny birds in the spring — and gathered the same summer- 
 flowers — a' things which make up the ingredients of a charm 
 that the kindly heart would never part with. It's no right of 
 you. Miss Mary, to speak so lightly of Andrew; for it's my 
 notion he'll be a credit to us a' yet. Ye see your aunt. Miss 
 Mizy, who is a most discreet lady, thinks better of the poor 
 laddie, and I'm sure she has had but sma' reason to do so ; for ye 
 canna but mind how when the captain, that's now bedrid, and 
 Andrew, were callants at my school, the dreadfu' damage they 
 did to her mourning, on account of that queer pawkie pyet, 
 hilk was in the use and wont of stealing her thread-papers." 
 "Oh!" replied Mary laughingly, while a gentle blush tinged 
 her neck and bosom, and heightened the bloom of her face, " I'll 
 8. tJ 
 
306 
 
 SIB ANDREW WTLIE. 
 
 ZCn^T ^S^'^^.-d hand poor Wheelie made with his 
 task of fifty psalms tiil I helped him." 
 
 MU Jm "'" 'f^ *^' "^*'' ""''^ ^"^^««« simplicity, « what for 
 
 Mi s Mary, do ye so geek at the honest lad's thriving ? " ' 
 
 I don t know why I should," was the answer, "for I'm sure 
 
 LiT/^!'"' """ ?'"'"''' ' ^"' "^ ^""t J>^« t-ken it into h 
 head that he's another Solomon, and is constantly plaguing me 
 about paying him a visit when he's lord mayor of Londfn^ ^"?^ 
 UT>„smg to hear what nonsense sensible people will sometimes 
 
 tii; h. '' 7 "' " ''"^ ^^^ ""^ ^"*'f"I ^"-^"dson, and in 
 time he may return among us, like the nabobs from India, with 
 a heavy purse and a broken constitution, and nobody in the 
 parish will be better pleased to see him than myself; but rea I v 
 Mr lannyhill, I do not understand why you should fancy thS 
 I can have any particular interest in the matter " 
 
 " I'm very glad to hear you say so,-Miss Mary," repUed the 
 sunp^ advocate ; " for I had a fear that maybe, when ye met Wm 
 at that grand ball in London, he had done something that wasra 
 
 The blood instantaneously overspread the face of his fair audi- 
 tor, and deepened her roses to the colour of the ruby but 
 presently recovering herself, she laughed, and said, " O dear no' 
 On the contrary he behaved far better than I could have thought 
 
 In^t r V \t * '^' "'"'"'■' ^"^ P^^^^^^^d «f h^Jf «o ™uch 
 mother wit He was both better bred, and far more sensible, 
 than any other gentleman we met there." 
 fi.r!l* f}!^y\*^''f conversation, on the whole, afforded unquali- 
 hed dehght to the innocent dominie, there was yet something in 
 the behaviour of Miss Cunningham that he could not compre- 
 hend ; and he set down her apparent dislike to hear of Andrew's 
 prosperity to that jealousy of adventurous talent, which about 
 this ., me began to enter into competition with the entailed 
 gentility of those feudal relics, the west country lairds-not 
 reflecting tnat single women never think on such a subject, nor 
 even married ones, when they have many daughters to dispose of. 
 
CHAFTEE LXIX. — PARTNERSHIP. 
 
 30Y 
 
 ie made with hh 
 
 CHAPTER LXIX. 
 
 PARTNERSHIP. 
 
 In the mean time, Andrew was the frequent guest of Lord 
 and Lady Sandyford, who continued to reside at Chastington 
 Hall ; and in his excursions from London he generally paid 
 Mordaunt a visit, who always renewed his wish that he would 
 allow him an opportunity to serve him, as if the unsatisfied feel- 
 ing of gratitude was become uneasy. 
 
 " The time's coming," he would as often reply ; " and, when- 
 ever I'm of a legal capacity to enter into business on my own 
 account, I'll then make bold to beg the help of your friendship." 
 
 The earl and countess made no professions. They took up 
 his interests more earnestly ; for, ascribing their mutual happi- 
 ness entirely to his fearless and free integrity, they studied the 
 means of promoting his fortune, as a more worthy and delicate 
 tetiirn than the sordid offerings of pecuniary generosity. 
 
 But a sudden event brought into play and action all the 
 favourable dispositions of the friendships he had formed. Old 
 Jack Docquet, solicitor to the Marquis of Avonside, expired, as 
 his lordship had anticipated, of apoplexy; and with that punc- 
 tual respect to his promise, which constituted one of the most 
 honourable traits in that nobleman's character, our hero was 
 informed by express of the occurrence, and that his lordship's 
 manifold and complicated affairs awaited his acceptance. 
 
 The habit of drolling with his higher acquaintance made 
 Andrew often indulge himself in the same humour with his 
 master; and accordingly, on going to chambers on the morning 
 in which he received this important information, he asked per- 
 mission to visit his friends at Chastington Hall, and Mr Mor- 
 daunt, at the same time requesting the advance of a small sum 
 to account, for the expenses of his journey. 
 
 As Vdlum was writing out the cheque, Andrew said, "i'ra 
 
 thuiking, sir, that maybe it would be as weel, providing you 
 
 were agreeable, that we should gang into partnership thegither." 
 
 The solicitor paused, as if he had been smitten with a sudden 
 
308 
 
 SIR ANDREW WYilE. 
 
 I 
 
 judgment, as Andrew himself described it; and said, "What did 
 you say, Mr Wylie?" 
 
 "I was saying," resumed Andrew, "that may be it might be 
 as well if you would tak me into partnership." 
 
 "Partnership!" exclaimed the solicitor; "why, you know 
 nothing of business. You have acquired neither the requisite 
 knowledge of the forms, or the substantials of the law." 
 
 " I didna say any thing about them. I only thought that, if you 
 would take me in for a partner, some good might come out o't." 
 
 Mr Vellum remembered in what way Lord Sandyford had 
 saddled him with seven hundred and fifty pounds a-year, and 
 did not much like this proposition, on the eve of a visit to his 
 lordship. He however replied, in a calm and reasonable man- 
 ner, "In course of time, Wylie, you may perhaps have reason 
 to expect an interest along with me; but at present you must 
 be sensible that you are still too young." 
 
 "Mr Pitt," replied Andrew, "wasna muckle older than me, 
 when he was made minister of Great Britain, France, and Ire- 
 land." 
 
 "You do not surely compare yourself with Mr Pitt?" ex- 
 claimed Vellum, petrified at the remark. 
 
 "O dear, no!" answered Andrew; "I had nae sic thought. 
 He was minister of three kingdoms ; but I'm only wanting a bit 
 share or portion in your business. There's an unco difference 
 between it and three kingdoms, Mr Vellum." 
 
 The solicitor did not well know what answer to make to this. 
 He was chilled to think with what pertinacity Andrew adhered 
 to his proposal ; and, somewhat eagerly, said, " Pray, Mr Wylie, 
 has any body suggested this notion to you? I am surprised how 
 it could be supposed you were qualified already to take a part 
 as principal in my business." 
 
 "FU be vera plain wi' you," replied Andrew; "just as plain 
 and as pleasant, as ye are wi' me. Nobody said any thing to 
 me on the subject, nor did I ask the advice of any body: hut T 
 thought ye were yoursel' by this time sensible o'"the weight of 
 my interest." 
 
 "I have had rea.son," retorted Vellum, in an acute tone, "to 
 know that weight." 
 
CHAPTER LXIX. — PAETNERSHIP. 
 
 309 
 
 nd said, "What did 
 nay be it might be 
 
 h Mr Pitt?" ex- 
 
 n acute tone, "to 
 
 "I thought so," replied our hero coolly; "and I thought like- 
 wise you would consider't. I would therefore be vera glad, if 
 ye would gie me a short answer as to whether ye will be con- 
 tent with me as a partner, or no?" 
 
 " Some time hence, Mr Wylie, I think the question may be 
 put with more propriety. At present, you must be well aware 
 that you are not ripe for what you propose." 
 
 " Fm no presuming to say that I am ; but, Mr Vellum, a man 
 wi' money in his purse can command talents and learning, though 
 he hae neither himsel'. There are plenty of well-learned able 
 young men, and some auld ban's too, in our profession, whose 
 help I can get wi' thankfulness — they being without friends." 
 
 This was a touch of policy beyond the utmost conceptions of 
 Vellum ; and he said, in an accent of evident alarm, " You seem 
 to presume on the partiality which Lord Sandyford has shown 
 you." 
 
 " No," replied our hero dryly. " But I do not see what that 
 has to do with our present discourse — which was to know, if 
 you would take me into partnership ? " 
 
 " Truly, Mr Wylie," answered the solicitor, moderating his 
 manner, "you could scarcely expect an immediate answer to 
 such a proposition." 
 
 " I wasna expecting an immediate answer. Far be it frae me, 
 Mr Vellum, to put you into ony disorder or agitation on the 
 subject ; for if I get a favourable waft o' your good-will, I can 
 bide a wee for an answer, as to the amount of the share that ye're 
 willing to give me." 
 
 Vellum, while he bit his lips with vexation, could not refrain 
 from smiling at this ; and said, with his wonted worldly off-hand 
 good-humour, " Well, well, I see how it is, Wylie ; we are to be 
 partners, and I don't think we shall quarrel about the terms." 
 
 " I dinna think so either," replied Andrew; " and as an earnest 
 t.iat I wasna coming all as a cess upon you, a' wi' the rake and 
 no wi' the shool, I hae some reason to think that I can wyse 
 you the business of Sir Thomas Beauchamp and Mr Mordaunt, 
 the whilk will help to make the pot boil between us. And the 
 Marquis of A\onside has this morning sent me word, that old 
 Mr Docquet, his solicitor, has departed this life, and that his 
 
310 
 
 SIR ANDREW WYLIE. 
 
 lordship's concerns, which were in his hands, are welcome to mv 
 acceptance." •' 
 
 Vellum laughed, and said, « And so, with all this in store, you 
 have been slyly feeling my pulse. Upon my conscience, Wylie 
 if you are not the most unfathomable being I ever knew. How- 
 ever, to show you that I duly appreciate the importance' of the 
 clients that you are likely to bring to us, I Mill admit you at 
 or.ce to a half of our mutual business, and the partnership shall 
 be dated from this day." 
 
 " A bargain be't," cried Andrew gaily; adding, « A^nd ye muv 
 depend on't, Mr Vellum, that the horse that brings grist to the 
 mill is as useful as the water that ca's the wheel I'll no t :oubie 
 you with ony interference in the professional pares of the busi- 
 ness; but I'll ettle my best to gather wark for your head and 
 hands." 
 
 In this way the footing of Andrew was established in the world- 
 and Vellum, with his characteristic promptitude, then said \ 
 number of friends and clients are to dine with me to-day at 
 Sandyford House, and you must be of the party, when I will 
 announce the connexion that 1 a been formed, and which I 
 doubt not, will redound to our mutual satisfaction and advan- 
 tage." 
 
 CHAPTER LXX. 
 
 ECO.yOMV. 
 
 In returning home to dress for dinner, our hero reflected that 
 It would be no longer respectable in him to continue those par- 
 simomous habits -hich he had hitherto maintained, and that 
 although it was still prudent to adhere to an economical F.p.tem. 
 yet it was not fit he should continue to present to his old friends 
 that appearance of penury, of which he had not, without obvious 
 reasons, been accused. Accordingly, he determined to sacrifice 
 to the opinion of the world, and, aware of the character which he 
 
CHAPTER LXX. — ECONOMY. 
 
 311 
 
 Is, are welcome to my 
 
 economical RyRfem, 
 
 possessed among his acquaintances, he determined to surprise 
 them. 
 
 In one of the obscure streets in the neighbourhood ol Queen's 
 Square, where he lodged in Vellum's private residence, he had 
 noticed a bill in the window of a large house, which had evidently 
 been the abode, at one time, of some eminent and opulent cha- 
 racter, and in going to Sandyford House to dinner, he walked 
 to examine the neglected premises. 
 
 He found the mansion, without being eitactly old-fashioned, 
 behind the present taste, but spacious in the apartments, and 
 richly ornamented. It had, in fact, been erected and fitted up 
 by an old bachelor of an eccentric disposition, and who had 
 xidulged his peculiar humour in the style und decorations. 
 Much of the furniture was so adapted, both in fo)-m and place, 
 to the rooms, that it partook of the nature of fixtures, and as 
 every thing was in excellent order, the house was ready for the 
 immediate reception of a tenant. 
 
 Andrew was pleased with the general air of the whole, and 
 amused himii.if with the surprise he would give to his friends, 
 by inviting ihem to such a place ; for the terms, both on account 
 of the situation, and the general singularity of the edifice, were 
 very low, and he determined at once to take.it. Accordingly, 
 he went immediately to the house-agent, and settled the 
 business. 
 
 In his way to Sandyford House, he called at the confectioner's 
 who supplied the parties of his fashionable friends, to secure for 
 him a suitable housekeeper and butler. 
 
 " They are to be," he said, " the very best of their kind. The 
 woman maun be used to a genteel economy, but to the style of 
 the best families ; and tlie man is to be a gawsy, middle-aged, 
 staid, and orderly carle, who has lived with bachelor gentlemen 
 o' discretion and prudence. He'll need a bit laddie to help him, 
 but that I'll let him choose for himsel' ; ye'U be sure, however, 
 that ye get me folk that can be trusted, and I'll pay them the 
 same wage that is paid in the best houses ; and ye'U lose nae 
 time about this job, for I am to hae a party this day month at 
 dinner, for the which you will mak a' preparation. Ye'U see 
 that every thing is the vera best o' its kind ; in short, Mr Comfit, 
 
312 
 
 SIB ANDREW WyjLIE. 
 
 season. If, „, «,. din^and I ^tM 1 1"™* •>' '''••• 
 wasna past coraraon_»hich it liT.K 1^ °''''°""' Si" i' 
 ll>e goodness. J „d riirn 1 "" "« '" ">" "'rit}' and 
 
 dainties of .he fl^sfan^s^^c Id Lrtif:"^' **' '^»«'-"e 
 china, with «• the r«.ui,r.. » J . ^ *™ "P ™ «" Anest 
 for we ma,.n firs 12 the T ?"°'^ '" "" '^^ "*■- 
 
 we p..yon„™„j;r. in hT kScrfa'n'';.?";''' "*" 
 
 maun ^how your cunnin., Ko^u ? ' *"^ ^'^^ dessert, ye 
 As for the eUlZT^'o^^^^^^ ^^^ vess'efs. 
 
 and the best; but for the vessels I ? ^ ^ '^' '^'''' 
 
 go through all the curl sUyTnd 'hin"? '"' '"'^' *''•' ^^'^ 
 queerest and drollest sort of nl^n' k f °P'' ^"'^ P^^'^' «"t the 
 Ye'll no buy't, howeveTfor th!r ,5 u''' ^'''"^'^ ^« ^e had. 
 let the cost'be' whit It^I; " '' "*^"'' '^ "^^^^^^ ' ^ut hire it, 
 
 tZfuSr '' '-' '-' ^^- -' -Lr L^r ^iiJeV;: 
 had^fi;;:^^^^^^^^^ 
 
 of our hero's dinner ' Th Jestr^nl J"'''"" " ''^^ ^'^- 
 one, and the majority wLe persorrft '7""'"^ '' *^^°^^- 
 sideration in the country actuaTr- ^?* ™"^ ^"^ ««»- 
 
 of the thin, ; some, hot^T^tilSt tl ''' ''''''''' 
 that, under Andrew's simnl.Vif,, „ "'nuenced by the persuasion, 
 business of a hil orZwl^ ^^T ^^^''""^' t^^^nts fo 
 interested in the atirtthirderhr'!?' ^"*^ "^^-^ -- 
 humour. All agreeT'in one ^ I "^^'' '""^"^ 
 
 must of itself beUe thinrvery "xtrtd'^ ''"" '"™ ^^^^ 
 street which none of their IJ 7 ^^"^^^'^^'nary ; and that in a 
 
 of, it could not Si aff Jttr "T™*^ """^ ^^^ ^^d 
 
 the fare might be. At ^trof^ ' C ^ 7' ^^^^^^^ 
 and, upon comnarm^ ^f.f„_ .. _ ^^ ^"6 consequence. 
 
 had been select'ed';i,h ,:;;;;" ^^^^^^^^ "^^^ th^ party 
 
 began to be made for a place "^B^l/rr"''' ''''' ''''''''' 
 -buthiseldeW^andlstdist^gl^JL/S:^-:^^ 
 
ClIAPTEE LXX. — ECONOMY. 
 
 313 
 
 ny Lady This's balJ, 
 ' the delicacies o' the 
 
 be affrontit gin it 
 be in the rarity and 
 >g, Mr Comfit— the 
 Tve up on the finest 
 n the best order— 
 / the mouth, before 
 
 and the dessert, ye 
 ids and the vessels. 
 
 only be the rarest 
 id forks, &c., ye'll 
 , and pick out the 
 possible to be had. 
 Jdless; but hire it, 
 
 carefully fulfilled ; 
 
 by those who are 
 
 London stinted in 
 
 'world of fashion, 
 ation as the idea 
 •unted to twenty- 
 3t rank and con- 
 > by the curiosity 
 '7 the persuasion, 
 "rior, talents for 
 nd several were 
 sh of his curious 
 mer from Wylle 
 ; and that in a 
 3 had ever heard 
 sment, whatever 
 he consequence, 
 id that the party 
 ih, that interest 
 ivas inexorable; 
 is and acquain- 
 
 tances were invited, and his answers to the younger sprigs ot 
 nobility and fashion, who were continually boring him for places 
 at what they called his benefit, was uniformly the same—" Stay 
 till your betters be serv't." 
 
 The affair at last amounted to such importance, that the ladies 
 began to lay themselves out for invitations, and a solemn lepre- 
 sentation was made to him by three duchesses, four marchion- 
 esses, five countesses, six viscountesses, and seven baronesses, 
 besides the daughters of all orders of the nobility, and ladyships 
 of minor degree, without number, But to them likewise his 
 answer was—" Patience, patience— cry a' at aince, leddies, and 
 see who will be first serv't." This, however, had no effect in 
 pacifying them. 
 
 Whenever he made his appearance at any party, up came a 
 flock of matrons and their goslings, flying with their fans in 
 the one hand and their trains in the other, to pester him for 
 invitations to his party. Among others, the Dowager Lady 
 Clackit was the most perilous and vexatious in her importunity; 
 insomuch, that one night at the Duchess of Dashingwell'a 
 assembly, he took her ladyship aside, and complained to her in a 
 most disconsolate tone, about the plague he suffered on account 
 of his dinner. 
 
 " Is't no a hard case, my leddy," said he, " that I should be 
 driven to my wit's end by the women, about this bit chack o' 
 dinner ? Every body but you, my leddy, just wearies me out o' 
 my senses. Noo, this is vera hard, my leddy, for ye ken I hae 
 had for some time a notion o' gieing a ball and supper, whereat 
 ye're to do the honours o' the meeting. I wonder how it is that 
 they winna be pacified with that expectation. But I'm resolved, 
 if they fash me ony mair, the deevil be licket of ball or supper 
 they'll get frae me, or any other civility, if I hear, after this night, 
 another word frae them on this subject. Noo, as I consider you, 
 my leddy, interested in this, ye'll no blame me if ye're a' dis- 
 appointed ; for what I would do, if the women would hut behave 
 themselves, would be something, my leddy, to be spoken o' when 
 ye're dead and gone." 
 
 Her ladyship was won ; and the whole females of the party 
 were, m the course of a few minutes, quieted, and desisted from 
 
i'l 
 
 
 WW 
 
 314 
 
 SIR ANDREW WYLIE. 
 
 their importunity, under an assurance that WvK« . i 
 
 most incomparable ball, and thaM nV A f ""^^ *° ^'''^l 
 matronly honours on the occas on So"^ ^'^'^^^'^^ to do the 
 had not made a very good ehoTce but a I 7u' ^'^^ ^"'^'•^«' 
 take pla the thjgloum^^^^^^^^^^ 
 
 and'^tt^d ;7nri:ott\h^^^^^^^ '•' ^^-^' ^-« - "". 
 
 carriage drfve up t:r'd Ln^TonT ^ ^ ^^""^^ '''' 
 mansion; and the moment that !ll "' ^'"'' ^"^^^"^ 
 
 into the hall, he was Tmitten I th Z"'''-"^' ^"^^^ ^''^^'^ 
 formed a false estimate oThTfea"^^^^^ ''''' ^« '^^ 
 
 air of singularity in its appearan t- buuS 'I ' '"^; '^^^ ^" 
 admittance, was dressed i„ a remark! ^'T . ™'"' ^^^" ^^^^' 
 livery, and the general effL ofThefi ?• "™'' '^"^ P'^'" 
 
 ingly respectable and genteel '"P'"'^'''" ^^« ^^rik- 
 
 wir;^:^S^~;-^^-e emotion 0^ 
 did, but strange. The fnlnh^l^ " '""°- ^* ^«« ^Pi*'"" 
 
 ornaments wefe cur ot bu ^7'' '" i' V *^^*«' ^"^ the 
 every one felt that he waVin nolo/'""'/ "^''' ""'' S'«"^>' «"^ 
 i»s guests with his wontei eal hT" P^''!' ^«^^«^ '"eceived 
 much surprised, bori thTh'ont T f ^'^"^ ™ ^^i^ - 
 Vellum. ^''^ ^"""'^ »»d the company, as Mr 
 
 <^^^:^'^::^zr^ ''-''— ^^'^^' ^-^'•". 
 
 of the first and second cole' The r"' *'™'' '''' ^^'"P^^'''' 
 the cookeiy was delicious and ^h ''"''^^^^^ truly beautiful, 
 London had indeed beenTjn:^^ J^eL^^'^CTr ^^^^ 
 could produce no better of their kinds n^r' ■ ''^''^^ ^"'"^'^ 
 
 and astonishment made the^l'r , ' , ^''"'''''^'""^^^""Jer 
 unable to divine bv what 1?!'"^"* one another, utterly 
 had been raised. "^ «"«l'antment such a palace and banquet 
 
 china 1—1 n-— 1 ^""ffregation of ancient an<l orofpo..,,. 
 
 peals of\:;;ZrZ:CToT' "" T^ '''''' ^"^^^^- -^ 
 down. ''*^' ^"'^''^ «« ^««h new curiosity was set 
 
 Ay," said our hero, enjoying their amusement. 
 
 >( 
 
 yo ken I 
 
Wylie was to give a 
 ackit was to do the | 
 hought that Andrew 
 eed that, when it did 
 
 effect, time ran on, 
 3d. Carriage after 
 our hero's antique 
 ssive guest stepped 
 ction that he had 
 1) it is true, had an 
 footman, who gave 
 ndsome, but plain 
 )ression was strik- 
 
 < little emotion of 
 Jra. It was splen- 
 'dd taste, and the 
 !ct was good, and 
 Andrew received 
 ihem were half so 
 company, as Mr 
 
 r-table, Nothino- 
 le, the simplicity 
 s truly beautiful, 
 ■<3 incomparable, 
 rhe whole world 
 sation of wonder 
 another, utterly 
 ace and banquet 
 
 CHAPTER LXX. — ECONOMY. 
 
 315 
 
 heir host mani- 
 and grntcsque 
 together; and 
 
 riosity was set 
 
 nt. "ye ken I 
 
 haena dishes enew o' ae sort to serve you a' through alike ; so I 
 thought that I would make up, according to my ain tas*^e, some- 
 thing just as fine and genteel as could well be ; and ye see here 
 such a show as I am sure the Prince of Wales himsel', wi' all his 
 fee-fa-mms, canna m vtch." 
 
 But the third course was only the morning star to the sun of 
 the dessert. The pagodas of India, and the temples of China 
 and Japan, and the produce of all climates, seemed to have been 
 laid under contribution. In a word, the house, the treat, the 
 wines, and the master, were pronounced unparalleled ; but the 
 gusto which pervaded all, was the most racy thing in the whole 
 concern ; and the description excited an inordinate expectation 
 among the ladies respecting the ball and supper. It was agreed 
 among them that it ought to be a fancy ball ; and Lady Clackit 
 was authorized to represent the wishes of the community of 
 fashion on the subject. 
 
 " Me gie a fancy ball, Leddy Cleckit !" was the exclamation. 
 " Do you think I hae lost my judgment ? What would the 
 neighbours say of a fancy ball and sicklike masquerading, in 
 my sober and methodical house? No, no, my leddy — nae sic 
 flagaries wi' me. I just mean to gie a decent dance to fifteen 
 lads and fifteen lasses — a very good number for a country dance ; 
 and there's a blind fiddler in our neighbourhood, that has pro- 
 raised to come for half-a-crown, bread and cheese, and a dram ; 
 and I'll gie you penny pies, eggs, and strong ale, when ye're 
 weary wi' dancing to his springs. But a fancy ball ! Na, na, 
 my leddy ; unless ye can fancy the ball like what I hae told you 
 of, the sorrow o' a ball shall be in my house." 
 
 "You cannot be in earnest!" cried her ladyship. "You 
 could never expect me to take a port in such a hop of a thing as 
 that?" 
 
 " Then if ye winna do't, I assure you nae ball or supper shall 
 be given by me ; and so I leave you to settle't wi' your kimmers 
 and cronies the best manner you can." 
 
 " Mr Wylie, you have used me very ill," said her ladyship, 
 walking away in a hulF, to declaim against the shabby avarici- 
 ous wretch, as she called him. 
 
 But some of the more knowing matrons were not taken in by 
 
 '^ii 
 
316 
 
 SIR ANDREW WYLIB. 
 
 I .,, 
 
 the matron, Lady CkflifT • ^' "'' ("-"Posed herself I, 
 
 ™ f-1, ma.ch^*t';:™« ?:?"«•■ '" "-'» °« h.: 
 
 Pve any entertainment at a7 a„i h uT' '""' '""""'""l "> 
 "f bM a stratagem to be rewf r '? '■■""" "''' '» '«, 
 The offer of the DuehessofDrw^^'f" "■"'"• '°>P°«™itre, 
 
 ofwh.chheknewthefnlWalu'trSt^frr'™''"''™"- 
 
 Vour grace," ,aid he, "ken" the ^ r,- °'"™""''"«<'- 
 
 house .s no „,ed ,o ,he se;,i,ude of t,, f °"^ '"<■ "»' "y 
 
 «"!' bae a gathering in't r" If ''?"""<' ™««»-- bnlifyou 
 
 «f-e. But, my ie^dyduehl ;•„"• 7°.""" '"""«' ™ '» 
 
 fr'ghtened that weak woman Sdv of?, "';''' fiddler that 
 
 *-«»; uni,„e .hi:feve"he::;"-rf' "»'"■» "^ 
 
 ?i"X w!n:e':ie^:L*TL™"r"^"-" -« '^■■^- 
 
 "the invitations to yon!^nV,r"lr ' ^°"~'' ' '"-o 
 fifteen couple, in the first insl* - •""■ '°°''» ''= "-i'-' to 
 
 '7.-"x^tr::t"rrr-'^^ereom.is. 
 
 when the ball did take pla™ l';'"!"' »" >-'"'; » that 
 kmd as the dinner; for Andrew^,' """'■'''"■"""T of its 
 ""■nber of the in.ita,i„„,, r^rf^eS t^ ?'"■? '° ™''"«« "'o 
 ^ -ost heautifn, of all hW^r^af;:*:-'" '"= ^^^ 
 
 CHAPTER LXXI. 
 
 ^ " * "H'BND IW NEED. 
 
CHAPTER LXXI.— A FRIEND IN NEED. 
 
 317 
 
 on our hero, and begged the loan of a thousand pounds. Wylie 
 was not surprised at the application; for various circumstances 
 had come to his knowledge, which gave him reason to suspect, 
 that the prosperity of Charies was deeply affected by some of 
 those political convulsions which at that time deranged the 
 commercial relations of the world. 
 
 "Charles," said Andrew, "I dinna refuse your request, but 
 it's proper and tit that ye should enable me to ascertain if the 
 thousand pounds can be of any real service; therefore gang and 
 bring me your books, and when I have ta'en a blink of their 
 contents, I'll gie you an answer, and I sincerely wish it may be 
 in the shape of a cheque for the sum you want." 
 
 Pierston was not altogether perfectly satisfied with this reply; 
 but it was so reasonable that he could not object to the pro- 
 posal, and accordingly went for his books. 
 
 During his absence Wylie sent for one of the ablest account- 
 ants, who, by the time Charles returned, he had in the house. 
 He did not apprise his friend of this circumstance; on the con- 
 trary, the moment he appeared with the books, he took them 
 from nim, and said, "Ye maun leave them with me till the 
 morn, when ye'll como, and ill gie them back, I hope, wi' a 
 favourable answer." 
 
 Charles felt something like mortification at this strict and 
 austere mode of proceeding; for he calculated on the familiarity 
 of ancient friendship, and he did not conceive his situation to 
 be at all such as that the application for a temporary loan should 
 be treated so particularly. However, he suppressed the slight 
 feehng of resentment, which arose, as it were, in anticipation of 
 a refusal, while he suffered the sensation of that chill and dis- 
 agreeable experience of the true nature of the world, which is 
 pommonly the usual foretaste of misfortune. 
 
 When he returned in the morning, his old friend received 
 him with more than usual cordiality, and kept him for- some 
 time w general con versation. Pierston had discernment enough 
 lo perceive that this was but the prelude to a negative; and 
 after enduring the effort, that Andrew was evidently making to 
 prepare him for the decision he iiad obviously come to, he said 
 abruptly, "But have you examined my books? " * ' 
 
*'* I III 
 
 318 
 
 Hi' 
 
 SIB ANDREW WYLIE. 
 
 "I would give you the money," replied Andrew, "if it could 
 be of any service ; but your aiFairs are widely scattered and 
 although all is clear and satisfactory, I am sureTat t ^h^ 
 
 difBcult.es. Charhe, let me gie you a word of counsel-sfr-"e 
 no longer with your fortune. In a word, end your bus ness 
 and go into the Gazette as a bankrupt." ' 
 
 Charles became pale, his lips quivered, and a momentary 
 flash of indignation gleamed from his eyes «™entarj 
 
 " Dinna mistalce me, Charlie, I am speaking as a friend- 
 
 Your character as a man of business is unblemished, and your 
 
 ntegrity stands clear ; but if yo struggle on, you will be reduced 
 
 to expedients that will ruin both, and you must break at last 
 
 amidst a fearful outcry of deluded creditors " ' 
 
 retfred'anTw r°° 'f ^' '"'^^"^ "^ ^'^ ^''^'^ ^' immediately 
 retired, and Wyhe m tde no attempt to appease the feelings with 
 
 which he was evidently troubled. But as soon as Pierston had 
 
 ^ll^l^^^^l T* ''-'^'y '^ ^^« ^^-<1- or Avonsfde 
 My lo.d, sa.d he, " I'm come to ask a small favour of your 
 lordsh.p-^a friend of mine has five thousand pounds to nd a 
 common inteiest, and I have been thinking, as your lordshb 
 will ,n a manner be obligated to take on something again t the 
 expenses of the ensuing general election, this is an^p^portun ty 
 to get the money at an easy rate, the which, in my opinL, your 
 lordship should not neglect." P"»on, jour 
 
 The marquis bestowed liberal commendations on the fore- 
 
 home hgh and humorous conversation then followed, and after 
 a reasonable time, Andrew rose to go away. In mo;ing l^w 
 ever, across the floor, he paused suddenlyf and said^My lord 
 marquis there's a sma' matter in which I would be gfelty 
 obliged to your lordship. Sometimes, among my friendsf the 
 a young lads to be provided for, and it would really be a thing 
 of a convenience to me, if your lordship could get a recommen- 
 
CHAPTER LXXI. — A FKIEND IN NEED. 
 
 319 
 
 dation put down in the minister's books, for a post under the 
 government at home or abroad, the same to stand at my disposal. 
 I'm no particular as to what it may be — only I would like it was 
 something good, and likely to be soon forthcoming." 
 
 The marquis smiled, and cheerfully promised, saying, " I have 
 sometimes thought, Wylie, that you have not turned the interest 
 of your friends so well to account as you might do ; and there- 
 fore, as this is the first favour you have ever requested of me, I 
 must try to do the best I can, especially as you have asked for 
 no particular appointment." 
 
 " That's very kind of your lordship," replied Andrew; 
 " and your liberal patronage shall not flow upon any unworthy 
 object." 
 
 The same evening, our hero received a note from the marquis, 
 informing him that the minister, in the House of Lords, had 
 promised him the nomination to a secretaryship in India, which 
 was to be soon vacated. Charles Pierston was immediately 
 sent for. 
 
 " Weel, Charlie," said Andrew, as he entered the rv>ora, " have 
 you reflected on what I said to you in the morning ? " 
 
 Charles replied that he hadj^pd that he was extremely dis- 
 tressed and perplexed. 
 
 " I'm wae for that, man," said Andrew : " but better ken the 
 warst at ance. Think weel on what I have counselled, for I can 
 now say that an end to your perplexities, earned with a clear 
 character, is tba very best thing that can happen." 
 
 But Charles was swayed by a thousand indefinable feelings, 
 and vacillated between shame and resolution. Andrew, how- 
 ever, without giving him the slightest intimation of what had 
 taken place between himself and the marquis, had the satisfac- 
 tion to see, before they parted for the night, that a tendency 
 towards his opinion had begun to take place in the mind of 
 Pierston. He, in consequence, refrained from urging him fur- 
 ther, leovlng the bias to work out its own eflTect : and in the 
 course of a few days after, he had the satisfaction to receive a 
 note from Charles, informing him that, sensible it was in vain to 
 struggle any longer, he submitted to what really appeared to be 
 his inevitable fate. 
 
320 
 
 SIB ANDREW WTLIE. 
 
 begin .h„ worid anl'\'f 1™:J.^* «• '» --' Wm t. 
 
 fuuy, he said o„i,;rc,X'^:' ^i;' 't^Tr' "»• 
 
 .:t:rers„ni:r.t-sS~r^^ 
 
 appointment, might have told himof fh„7 • ^ '"'''"'' 
 
 recollected always the old IvKi "'''"'"'*''""" ' but he 
 
 between the cu^and he tin nT.'.^"* ?'"^ *^^"^« ^'^PP^n 
 
 to encourage anTh^f :h;:L^^g^f hT^^^^^^^^^^^^ 
 
 of Charles confirmed ^'r,^"* ^'^^ """'"^tion and appointment 
 
 tage derived fltheTot' "''"^' ^"'^ ^"'^ ^^- 
 
 " What your lordship says is very tnw " r«r,r j a . 
 
 " ril no deny that it has'been a gold 'windfall burl 7 
 or I'm mista'en, will hae no reason to comp a „ for Mr p?"''^' 
 IS a man both of parts and principles. iSd ed had 1^7^ " 
 full, persuaded of fhis. it would n^Vr y. 7' . ^° '''*'" 
 
 will Aow the feeiingrrh whichXr™'' " '5" "'"" 
 Cherished .he ..e^Lee orrhe'Xr""hr;„t:.r 
 
CHAPTEE LXXU. — PATRIOTISM 
 
 321 
 
 CHAPTER LXXII. 
 
 PATRIOTISM. 
 
 The Marquis of Avonside, soon after he had procured the 
 appointment for Pierston, received a confidential communication 
 from one of his ministerial friends, relative to the dissolution of 
 Parliament, by which his lordship was induced to send imme- 
 diately for our hero, as his solicitor, to consult him with respect 
 to the management of the borough of Bidfort, in which his lord- 
 ship's influence was expected to be keenly contested. The noble 
 marquis was one of the most disinterested supporters of his 
 majesty's servants, as long as they enjoyed the confidence of their 
 royal master; and perhaps, correctly speaking, he could not 
 therefore be considered as a party man. His public conduct 
 being regulated by wliat might be called the hereditary politics 
 of his family, he had not found it profitable; indeed, to do him 
 justice, he did not regard personal aggrandizement as at all a 
 legitimate object even of his courtly patriotism. On the con- 
 trary, his estates were much encumbered by the consequences of 
 his endeavours to preserve that political importance which his 
 ancestors had always enjoyed in the state, and which was severely 
 menaced by the rising influence of other more talented or 
 wealthier families. 
 
 ^ But not to meddle with such matters, which at present do not 
 lie exactly in our way, our hero, on reaching the residence of the 
 marquis, found his lordship alone ; who, after a short preliminary 
 conversation relative to the object in view, and the arrangements 
 for a new mortgage, to enable him to carry on the election, said, 
 " Now I think of it, Wylie ; why don't you get into the House ? 
 I would as soon give my influence in Bidfort to you as to any 
 man I knoT ; not that I think you qualified to make any figure 
 in debate, but there is a great deal of private and committee 
 business, in which you are eminently fitted to take an able and 
 an effectual part. I wish you would think of this ; and if you 
 are disposed to close with the offer, you shall have my interest 
 for less than any other candidate." 
 8i « 
 
! I 
 
 I ! 
 
 I I 
 
 I I'M 
 
 322 
 
 SIR ANDBEW WYLIE. 
 
 The proposition did not meet an unprepared mind. From the 
 time that our hero found he had risen to his natural level in 
 society, the ambition to become a member of parliament had 
 several times stirred in his fancy. He had actually formed the 
 design of sounding his lordship on the subject ; nevertheless, his 
 characteristic prudence did not allow^ him to give a frank 
 answer. 
 
 " I'm sure," said he, " that I'm greatly obliged to you, my 
 lord, and what ye propose is a very iriendly turn ; but it's far 
 from my hand to take a part in the great council o' the nation ;— 
 no that I think there are not bit's o' jobbies about the house 
 wherein a bodie like me might mess and mell as weel as anither. 
 But, my lord, ye know that your interest needs to be supported 
 through thick and thin ; and that I'm rather inclined to follow 
 the politics o' my noble frien' the earl, your son-in- law, who is, 
 as your lordship has lang complained, a dure hand with the 
 Whigs." 
 
 The marquis was a little perplexed with this answer. It was 
 not a negative, nor was it an assent, but implied something like 
 an overture towards negotiation. His lordship, however, with- 
 out committing himself, replied, " Of course, Mr Wylie, I should 
 expect that in all public measures you would divide with my 
 ministerial friends ; but I should never think of tying you up on 
 questions of speculative policy, except on Parliamentary reform 
 and Catholic emancipation. These are fixed points, and again t 
 these, your vote, be whosoever minister, I would hold pledged." 
 " Anent them, my lord, ye need be under no apprehension; 
 for it's no to be expectit, as a thing in the course o' nature, that 
 I would, in the first place, part wi' the stool that suppported me; 
 and, in the second, my conscience will never consent that I 
 should be art or part to bring in the whore of Babylon among 
 us, riding on the beast with seven heads and ten horns. But 
 what would your lordship expect, if it was proposed to the 
 liouse to clip the wings o' that fat goose the Episcopalian esta- 
 blishment ? " 
 
 " IIow ! " cried his lordship in terror, " Touch the church, Mr 
 Wylie ! Are you in earnest ? Why, that would be to pull down 
 the state." 
 
%''\tnr 
 
 CHAPTER liXXII. — PATRIOTISM. 
 
 323 
 
 " I didna say any thing about my touching the church. No, 
 gude forgia me, I'm no for meddling wi' ony sic slippery blades 
 as the clergy ; I but put the thing by way o' a hypothesis ; for 
 in this age of innovation and change, it's no impossible that some 
 o' the gabs o' the House will agitate the question ; and what I 
 would like to know is, whether, if the matter were to come to an 
 issue, ye would expect me to vote for upholding the whole tot o' 
 the establishment as it stands at present ; or if it were proposed 
 to reduce the tithes, and to give a portion of them to the state 
 or to the landlord, which your lordship would prefer." 
 
 « Why," said the marquis, " I'm not apprehensive that any 
 such question will come on. In tiie course of the present reign 
 it would be hopeless ; but, undoubtedly, were the attempt to be 
 made, the landlord has the best right to the tithes." 
 
 " I had a notion that would be your lordship's opinion," replied 
 Andrew. " But, my lord, as the tithes are the property o' the 
 church, would it no be more natural for the members o' parlia- 
 ment, who, like me, have no land, to take a portion of the tithes 
 to themselves, than to give them to the landlords ?" 
 
 The marquis was puzzled, and could not see the drift of our 
 hero's observations. 
 
 " Howsever," continued Andrew, " I think, wi' your lordship, 
 that it's no a question very probable to be debated for some time 
 yet ; only it was necessary that I should ascertain what was the 
 bearing o' your lordship's mind on such concerns ; and noo that 
 I clearly understand you" lordship's representatives are no to 
 Vbte for reformations, nor for Catholic emancipation; and that, if 
 the question of church spoliation comes on, they are to vote for 
 the behoof of the landlords, we may come to the point about the 
 borough. What's the price your lordship would expect, if 1 
 agree to come in for your lordship, tied neck and heel to your 
 lordship'B ministerial friends?" 
 
 The marquis winced a little at the plainness of this language, 
 but he could not refrain from smiling. "Why," said he, "if 
 you come in for one of my close boroughs, you shall have it for 
 three thousand five hundred. I will give it to no one else for 
 less than four thousand ; and there is a recent Indian importa- 
 
324 
 
 SIB ANDREW WTLIE. 
 
 tion tha will give n,e even more; but he is a talking fellow, and 
 I Me all my fnends to work well, and say nothing/' ' ' 
 
 Keally thats a great temptation, my lord: and I think w„ 
 m.ght come to a conclusion, if your lordlhip w^uTd jusf ^al 
 wee thought aj.e, to let my conscience hae room to lip Slv 
 out and m when it's a straight case." ^ ^ 
 
 " Upon that head," replied the marquis, « we shall not differ 
 I dare say. You are a sensible man, and I would trust as much' 
 to y.,r discretion in politics, as to any gentleman's t a I h" 
 pen to know ; but the government must be supported." ^ 
 
 oi manner, My Lord Avonside, I trust and hope that no man 
 ^an^presume to suspect that I would not support the gov"! 
 
 "I beg your pardon, Mr Wylie," replied his lordshi^ • "I 
 never called m question the soundness of your principle • a'nd 
 think he proposition which I have made i bring you nlo par 
 liament, ^s a proof of the respect in which I hold them " ^ 
 
 1 am sure your lordship has no reason to think otherwise of 
 my pohtics than as those of a man endeavouring throughout 1 
 to act an honest part; and therefore I am only grieved wish 
 mg, as I do, to avail myself of your lordship's kfnd offe'r hat 
 you should think of requiring from me any pLge or promis . 
 to the way I shall vote; for that's a vera great impedTrTenf Z 
 my a..cepting the favour your lordship wislfest do me '" 
 
 To be plain with you, Wylie, I do not require any thinj, 
 more from you than from those other gentlemen whom Is Jd 
 into parliament It is a necessary preliminary that th" und'r 
 
 TplS- " "' ' ^^'' """ "^^ ^°*^^-^' ^h-Id be clear and 
 "Naedoutofthat; the money should be regularly mid anH 
 the nat„,e o' the bargain perfectly understood." B^t thaf 'you 
 lordship may not hae cause to be chided about any chan/e in 
 
 Ye know what my principles are. mv lord .• and -,-• of a frf-n7 
 
 parliament for five hundred pounds less than ony ither body- 
 
CHAPTER LXXIII. — AN ELECTION. 
 
 826 
 
 fast bound to your lordsliip's ministerial friends In a' debates. 
 Noo, ray lord, if ye'Il consent to let me gang in free, I'll stand 
 the contest in Bidfort at my own expense, whate'er the cost 
 may be, the which will be both honourable to your lordship 
 and me." 
 
 "You are a strange mortal," said his lordship laughing; 
 "and I cannot but agree to your proposal. I hope, neverthe- 
 less, you will not disappoint my confidence in your ministerial 
 principles." 
 
 " I trust your lordship's ministerial friends will no gie me ony 
 cause to niak your lordship rue the bargain." 
 
 Such were the preliminaries that led to our hero's return to 
 parlianient. But there were certain circumstances connected 
 with his election too important to be omitted; especially as 
 Minerva, in the shape of the old gipsy woman, facilitated his 
 return, perhaps, with more effect than some of the more conse- 
 quential and ostensible agents. 
 
 CHAPTER LXXIII. 
 
 In election. 
 
 Soon after Andrew had publicly announced his intention to 
 stand for Bidfort, the grateful gipsies made their appearance 
 before his house, and the old woman claimed admission. 
 
 "Weel, lucky," said our hero, as the footman showed her in, 
 "whar are ye come from, and what's your will wi' me noo?" 
 
 "I have come to thank you again, and to serve you, for the 
 kindness you have done to me and mine," repUed the gipsy re- 
 spectfully. 
 
 "Na, na, hnnest woman, ye eanna bide here. I hae nae need 
 of your servitude— I hae ouer mony in the house already," was 
 the answer. 
 
 At which the old woman smiled, and said, "I come not, sir 
 to ask to share your fee or your fire; but to offer what skill I 
 
826 
 
 8IB ANDREW WTLIE. 
 
 M 
 
 l.e«If unbidden maZTZ^-7'°"V ""'' ">'" '"""« 
 
 »«■ Seek j„u to „and in PTOence If ,r t i"""' '^''^ "-^ 
 thrive in some fair ladv's loveT T,, ' '""^' "'™l'' J°» 
 
 .ticket .ha. .he ^..J L'ZtJ^Ty ^^LLt •■ '"""«'" *° 
 
 .hetrr.r:rrw*~--". 
 
 to c„s. /our g Lmer „e ' " V 'k "'"r"''' '' '»"'"'- "7 
 didate for UiL. so nZ "'' ^- "'' """ ''■" " ™"- 
 
 fUse hopes." ' " " ^■°'"' »''«>"= '" beguile me with 
 
 The old woman made no rpt.lv f^,. „ 
 in eviden. co,i,a.io„, and 1^ ort eTllSft" f'""' '" 
 her left hand suddenly to her ir J -V *° foreiinger of 
 
 internal -mpulse. She he„ SU llT'"* ?' """" '"" 
 prepared for .l,e diselosure o7=r '".~'f eree.ly, as if f„l]y 
 meditations. "''"'«"■■» °f some imporlan. result of her 
 
 unZ'the^^^T^i :Xl'a°nt'r ""^ ""/ '" '-' ^ '» 
 «ead. By the same an t'lltrk tl ™' "' ^'"""« '" "» 
 may betide, j-ou'll find !„"" end , ha ^°'" ""'^ "* "I"''" 
 
 What's your eloeti„„eerin;tlo„r.'„t.":° °°" "^ ^°" ^'"«- 
 and?h:r„tirm^.r-' "■»'''™«-an. oscendeney, 
 
 Ihe old woman immediatelv rn<!P o„^ •.. 
 word, left the room. Before on /' ?. ' '''^^''"* '"^'^^ « 
 she was out at the treet d or T he" """ "^"^^'' '^'^ --P^^-' 
 hurry away, ran up to seet^" shltd^^tl "'^^r ''' 
 some time in answering their master^ K n u "^'' ""'^ ^^''^ 
 her some refreshment. ^'"' ^^° '"""& *« order 
 
 . T.*'^ ""'* ""^ *^' ^'P^'««' ^ho were linfferin^ for th • 
 
 in the nefo-tiK^,,-:-- _..,, , ""gering tor their anee.ofrpss 
 
 -ie.i.™und-,;e;-:-— .re;-r^^^^^ 
 
 M the eatra^ce of .he town, in a lone eoun.,^ ,ane leading 
 
WW-^n 
 
 CUAFTER LXXIII. AN ELECTION. 
 
 327 
 
 :ed at him some time, 
 y; and then seating 
 here he was sitting, 
 ly further. Try my 
 king? Would you 
 ' paths through the 
 dance," 
 
 ider of her services, 
 Jditating for two or 
 ddressed her to the 
 vife, ye maunna try 
 ard that I'm a can- 
 o beguile me with 
 
 me to this; but sat 
 d the foreringer of 
 ited by some quick 
 !rect]y, as if fully 
 ant result of her 
 
 nd to love, and to 
 >f kindness in its 
 ind tide whatever 
 n do you service. 
 
 stant ascendency, 
 
 'ithout saying a 
 over his surprise, 
 who observed her 
 )thing; and were 
 o rung to order 
 
 their ancestress 
 her appearance, 
 set off for Bid- 
 
 ry lane leading 
 
 to the common, they pitched their camp under a hedge; and 
 while the men travelled the borough, the grandfather with his 
 wheel to sharpen knives and razors, and his son with audible 
 proposals to make horn-spoons, the old woman went from house 
 to house, to see if the inmates had any old china to clasp, or 
 rush-bottomed chairs to mend. The young woman begged with 
 her infant; and the boy and urchin, with a basket filled with 
 pedlar trumpery, plied about the market-place. This basket 
 they had purchased on their way from London ; and the princi- 
 p" 1 articles which it contained consisted of small knots of orange 
 and blue riband, and stay-laces made of twisted topes of the 
 same colours. Upon this device the grateful gipsies hud ex- 
 pended a considerable part of the money which had been given 
 them on the day of trial, and which they had till this time care- 
 fully preserved. 
 
 The gipsy boys, with great archness and merry roguery, so 
 recommended their orange and true-blue love-knots and trinkets 
 to the females and children, and sold them so temptingly cheap, 
 that they were soon disposed of. Whenever his grandmother 
 saw any of them in a house, she assumed her mystical looks, and 
 said, "Orange betokens gold, and blue a true heart; the bless- 
 ing of both be upon you." 
 
 For two or three days, in this manner, they seemed to be 
 plying their wonted < ions and when an opportunity pre- 
 sented itself, each of the party recommended the other as a skil- 
 ful fortune-teller: the preference, however, was always given to 
 the age and experience of the ancestress, who, to all her cus- 
 tomers, predicted great riches, and honour, and happy days, 
 from "a little man from out the north, with smooth round 
 cheeks, and small eyes, clothed in orange and blue." The con- 
 sequence of which was, that every maiden looked northward in 
 her dreams for a lover of this description; and the imagination 
 of every one in the town was unconsciously tinctund with an 
 affection for ideas of orange and blue. 
 
 At last, the predetermined dissolution of parliament, after all 
 the friends of the ministers had got the start of their adversaries, 
 was disclosed to the public. The highways resoundpd with 
 chariots und horsemen ; and the public-houses in every borough 
 
328 
 
 SIB ANDREW WTIJE. 
 
 became the humminff hives nP n.. • *• 
 
 benefit of the excise, whichTs 12?'"' *" *^" '"'"^^'at^ 
 
 that derives an, i^Jj;: dva at ,1^ "'^ ^^^^ ,«' '^'^ ^^^'« 
 
 Our hero and his friends hZTnll^ •'' ^'""''^^ '^^'^''^n- 
 starting before the patrio 1 rbfbtr'""'""' ^'^^"'«^« «f 
 the borough in a barLcheTndfot^^ "^'^^ ^"™' ^"'^''^ 
 large knots of orange and bl' .1 '"P''^^^ ^^''"'"'^'^d with 
 proclaim him. Thegin^jL .r' ? ^ '''^"'''^^ "« ^^''^Id to 
 
 invision;ever,e;e\TfeerCtd t'^^^^^^^^^ 
 
 with universal acclamations i°^"?''"' "f ''« ^^« ''^'^^ived 
 
 sentiment of supcrstitiouL^ren ' 1/7 '''^"f ^"" ''^' ' 
 
 that, when the nabob arrived ZvLr """^'"'^ ' '"^"'""•^^ 
 
 sunamer flowers, all oran^Ild !, '"^' r" ^"^ ^"^« « hed of 
 
 • out the north-'was, all "h .t'tl, "^^ 
 
 decidedly the PopulaV favouHte that bisT'f '"' "*"^^*' ^ 
 
 the contest, and retired from ^Ue field ^'' '' ^^'^^ ^^^ "P 
 
 liie gipsies, immediately after thp n. 
 chaired, presented themselves at h" "?'™ ' ^^'^ ^''^ 
 
 -ith triumph and exultarn/el^^j l",''^"! ""•"'' ™^"' 
 way the metaphysical aid wh ch sirill ' 'I ^"' ^"^ 
 
 election. "°" ^'^« had given to him in the 
 
 CHAPTER LXXIV. 
 
 A ROVAt RESIDENCE. 
 
 wiSrx;::.^S;sn riS^^^ p-^'^-i^nne.. 
 
 appear early al court; inS ^, 'I ^ "'''"'''' '" ''^ ^'^ 
 
 return to parliament, intinSed a, "^T' '""""'^'-'^^y on his 
 
 himselfintroducehimtotheX ' '"^ ''^^^^ ^^'^ ^°^d 
 
 Curiosity held a verv siihr,r,i;^ . 
 
 Wylie;anditsohap;L.tafM!d^-*"" '" ^'^^ "'"^ «^ 
 seek a sight of majesty. Thoiio-bJ ""''' ''''""'P^ed him to 
 
 of fashionable life, it could n r^a!!"!:? .'" f i '■^'^^ ^'^^^- 
 
 any knowledge of the privatP T. V'^ ^'"'^ "^'^^ ^^^^^^red 
 
 private and personal character of George 
 
CHAPTER IXXIV.— A BOTAL RESIDEXCE. 329 
 
 the Third. The retirement of the royal family to Windsor had, 
 indeed, rendered the king, in some degree, a stranger to his 
 people; and, except on public occasions, levees, and drawing- 
 rooms, his majesty was rarely seen by them, but on the Sunday 
 evenmgs on the terrace of the castle. 
 
 Experience had taught Wylie, thatsome previous acquaintance 
 with the peculiarities and characteristics of persons whom he 
 had occasion to know, was of great consequence to a successful 
 issue of whatever he might have to do with them ; and an intro- 
 duction at court, so generally considered merely as a ceremonial 
 was to h,m an event to which he rightly attached much impor- 
 tance. lie had been raised to that rank in life which made it, 
 in some degree, indispensable; and it was not now beyond the 
 range of ordinary probabilities, that he might one day be brought 
 into actual intercourse with his sovereign. It was therefore in 
 his opinion requisite that he should be able so to conduct him- 
 self at the first interview, as not to leave any awkward or unfa- 
 vourable impression. But to accomplish this required equal 
 address and prudence; and it was a matter too delicate, even for 
 hecounse of friendship; for its object and purpose could not 
 be disclosed without divulging some of those nebulous and anti- 
 cipating guesses, with respect to the chances of the future-those 
 reveries of ambition, which are seldom of a form so definite as to 
 bear discussion. The Earl of Sandyford was the only one of his 
 friends on whose judgment, in a matter of this sort, he would 
 have placed any relianc , : but although he justly admired his lord- 
 ship s acute perception, and delicacy of tact, he yet so dreaded 
 his radlery that he was deterred from consulting him ; and 
 therefore, after weighing the subject well in his own mind he 
 resolved to go_ secretly to Windsor, and gather on the spot as 
 much information as possible, about the habits, the manners, and 
 true character of the king. 
 
 Accordingly at the hour when the Windsor afternoon coach 
 usually leaves the White Horse (Cellar in Piccadilly, he .vus there, 
 and took his place in a corner, shrinking from observation, lest 
 any friend should accidentally pass, and question him respecting 
 his exc«rs,on-a thing, by the way, that has happily rather gone 
 out of fashion. Only country friends or Edinburgh advocates in 
 
 I 
 
330 
 
 SIR ANDREW WYUE. 
 
 'h:, 
 
 town on appeal cases, ever think of either asking or wondering 
 what the.r acquaintance can be doing in stage-cLhes ' 
 
 three Son Z7.)?T ''"''7 "'' "'^^ "« ^^^^"^"'•«' ^'though 
 
 de onlr '• '""'' "''''"^^' f^'"^'"^ «* «^«"« 0" the out- 
 side, once or twice attempted to quiz him. He was however 
 
 oZeT:iz' '' '^^"' '' ''' ^""^"^^ the/::'re'ro: 
 
 cIXt ' '^^'1"^'"'^"^«- He learned from them that the 
 
 Castle Tavern was one of the best inns in Windsor ; and one o 
 the boys said "that, if he had no particular obi cUon thc^ 
 would call on him next day, and help him to ascerta n whit tri 
 of wine was in the cellar." " 
 
 _ "I can hae no objection," replied he slyly, "to receive anv 
 civility at your hands; and if yeVe dispo ed to treat me to a 
 
 y^nLs " ' '' '' '- -''' - -^— - "i-i:: 
 
 doo1;"trere T' ^ ^"'''^■- ^^' ^"^^ ""'^^ ^'^' ^' ^^eir dame's 
 door where their fags were in obsequious attendance to receive 
 the. great-coats, and to do their bests with an obedience 
 mplicit as that with which Ariel served Prospero, wMe ou 
 
 th7cre-rn.^^^ '-'''' -' "^ ''' ^"^' - - ^--t 
 After taking tea in the coffee-room, which he did expressly for 
 the purpose of asking questions at the waiter relatfve to 1^ 
 localities, he went to inspect the environs of the royal residen 
 and to see with what sort of external parade the ac^tua latde of 
 
 very clear, or very erroneous; for he was chilled, we miirht 
 almost say awed, by the monastic silence which lingered Tut 
 wards and courts, except where the footfalls of the sef tinel w 
 heard, as the soldiers themselves, sympathizing with t he nr d 
 .ng gen.us of the place, performed their brief and narr w ci cuks 
 before the different entrances, without exchanging a sentence 
 where two or three of the small band of stonelftte^ mp| Id 
 .n repamng the dilapidations of the towers and cornices Ire 
 nearrl nhin'M"" if ♦!.«:- i- i • , "'mi-ca, were 
 
 i.{.j.!..g at tMt:i. lusks in equal solemnity. He had 
 expected to see steeds prancing and clurs flying, ^and to la 
 drums beating and trumpets sounding, amidst the LZl bu ]/ 
 and pageantry, which he had supposed essential to the pie 
 
king or wondering 
 e- coaches. 
 Iventure, altliough 
 ; swells on the out- 
 He was, however, 
 they were become 
 Tom them that the 
 ndsor ; and one of 
 ir objection, they 
 scertain what sort 
 
 " to receive any 
 to treat me to a 
 ur to do justice to 
 
 ift at their dame's 
 ndance to receive 
 an obedience as 
 spero, while our 
 was set down at 
 
 did expressly for 
 ' relative to the 
 
 royal residence, 
 ! actual abi.de of 
 : were either not 
 illed, we might 
 
 lingered in the 
 le sentinels were 
 with the presid- 
 narrow circuits 
 ? a sentence; or 
 tters, employed 
 
 cornices, were 
 nity. He had 
 ig, and to hear 
 flourish, bustle, 
 i to the palace 
 
 CHAFTEE I,XXIV. — A KOTAL RESIDENCE. 
 
 331 
 
 and court of an old and mighty monarchy. But an extreme 
 simplicity, dignified only by the circumstances of antiquity with 
 which it was associated, every where prevailed. The broad and 
 gorgeous folds of the royal standard on the round tower, as it 
 pompously and slowly floated on the summer breeze to the set- 
 ting sun, was the only suitable ensign of present sove.-eignty 
 that met his view. 
 
 It was too late in the evening then to see the apartments, but 
 he resolved to do so early in the morning; not, however, with the 
 slightest intention of looking either at the works of art with 
 which they are adorned, or to listen to the traditionary stories of 
 the servants appointed to show them. His object was to address 
 himself to some one of the domestics, in the course of passing 
 through tf "'erent halls and chambers, and so to lead into a 
 conversa' it, might enable him to extract some authentic 
 
 informat..j-i lespecting the real object of his visit. His enquiries 
 that night were, therefore, chiefly regarding the times and modes 
 of obtaining admission into the apartments, and when, where, 
 and how, he could see the royal family to most advantage. 
 
 His walk round the castle, and his enquiries of the persons he 
 incidentally met with, filled up his time tin it was dark, and he 
 had no Shakspearian recollections to allure him into the Park 
 when the moon rose. On the contrary, a most prosaic belief, 
 that if he continued lingering there much beyond candle-lighting 
 time, he might meet with nocturnal questioners more substan- 
 tial than fairies, and quite as mischievous as those who played 
 such pranks on Sir John Falstatf, induced him to retire early to 
 the ir n, by which he lost the beautiful and romantic effect of the 
 view of the castle by moonlight — a view which every one who 
 has the slightest taste for the picturesque, ought neither t» go 
 abroad nor to die without seeing. 
 
 i 
 
332 
 
 SIE ANDBEW WTLIE. 
 
 CHAPTER LXXV. 
 
 WISDSOR PARK. 
 
 Bt sunrise on the Sunday morning Wylie was bru,hi„, ,1 
 early dew in the Ii„|e park, lo taste L /re*Z ofTh. ^ * 
 .ng gale, or, as he himself belter ewessedU "Hat ! ;"; 
 e*r air on the brow „, the hill. \::tlZ:u::ZZ 
 
 riser, .he household -'wSuld Vlu^Tf 1 .1;^ Cith t 
 
 head, going to the town, and three or fn„r 1,,^ • u 
 
 boys .ha. eau,e whistling' along tLT r^.;: , ^^t^^'l 
 
 -tltL';t:^tLTror?^^^^^^^^^ 
 
 Somewhat disappointed, bu. .hipking he was still ,„„ i 
 for .he inmates of a palace, he prolongfd his walk wa*t 
 
 ^.rle. euffs and c„,,„, ^f^rr-^.f ^ «- =-, - 
 There was something, however, in the air of ,he wearer wS 
 cont,„ce<l htm .ha. he eould no. be a servan.; and a" hZ. 
 leaded eane, virled with gold, which he carried in a sor^T 
 ■eg Ijgen, poking manner, led him .„ conclude ,Ut he was "he 
 
 .h.s decen. carle, for nae dou. he's weel aequL. wi.h a' I« 
 
 r ; 
 
CHAPTER LXXV. — WINDSOR PARK. 
 
 333 
 
 the king," and he stepped alertly forward. But before he had 
 advanced many paces, the old gentleman turned round, and 
 seeing a stranger, stopped ; and looking at him for two or three 
 seconds, said to himself, loud enough, however, to be heard, 
 "Strange man — don't know him — don't know him;" and then 
 he paused till our hero had come up. 
 
 "Gude-day, sir," said Wylie as he approached; "ye're early 
 a-fit on the Sabbath morning; but I'm thinking his majesty, 
 honest man, sets you a' here an example of sobriety and early 
 rising." 
 
 "Scotchman, eh!" said the old gentleman; "fine morning, 
 fine morning, sir — weather warmer here than with you? What 
 part of Scotland do you come from? How do you like Windsor? 
 Come to see the king, eh ? " and loudly he made the echoes ring ' 
 with his laughter. 
 
 The senator was a little at a loss which question to answer 
 first; but delighted with the hearty freedom of the salutation, 
 jocularly said, " Tt's no easy to answer so many questions all at 
 once; but if ye'll no object to the method, I would say that ye 
 guess right, sir, and that I come from the shire of Ayr." 
 
 "Ah, shire of Ayr! — a fine country that — good farming there 
 — no smuggling now among you, eh? — No excisemen Jiooting 
 lords now ? — Bad game, bad game. Poor Lord Eglinton had a 
 true taste for agriculture ; the county, I have heard, owes him 
 much. — Still improving? — Nothing like it. — The war needs 
 men — Corn is our dragon's teeth — Potatoes do as well in Ire- 
 land, eh?" 
 
 The humour of this sally tickled our hero as well as the 
 author of it, and they both laughed tluiraselves into greatw in- 
 timacy. 
 
 "Weii; but, sir," said Andrew, "as I'm only a stranger here, 
 I would like to ask you a question or two about the king, just 
 as to what sort of a man he really is ; for we can place no sort 
 of denondence on iiews^aners or iiiHtor^ books in ms-tters finsTit 
 rulers and men of government." 
 
 "What! like Sir Robert Walpoli — not beliere history? — 
 Scotchmen very cautious." But the old gentleman added, in a 
 graver accent, "The king is not so good as some say to him be 
 
334 
 
 SIB ANDREW WTLIE. 
 
 wi\' 
 
 is; nor is he so bad as others say of him. But I know that he I 
 has conscientiously endeavoured to do his duty, and the best 
 men can do no more, be their trusts liigh or low." 
 
 "That, I believe, we a' in general think; even the blacknebs 
 never dispute his honesty, though they undervalue his talents 
 But what I wish to know and understand, is no wi' regard to 
 his kingly faculties, but as to his familiar ways and behaviour- 
 the things in which he is like the generality of the world " 
 
 "Ha!" said the stranger briskly, relapsing into his wonted 
 freedom,, "very particular, very particular, indeed. What reason 
 fnend, have you to be so particular?— Must have some?— Peonle I 
 never so without reason." ' ' 
 
 "Surely, sir, it's a very natural curiosity for a subject to 
 enquire what sort of a man the sovereign is, whom he has 
 sworn to honour and obey, and to bear true allegiance with 
 hand and heart." 
 
 "True, true, true!" exclaimed the old gentleman — "Just' 
 remark-Come on business to England ?-What business ?" 
 
 My chief business, in truth, sir, at present here, is to see 
 and learn something about the king. I have no other turn in 
 hand at this time." 
 
 "Turn, turn!" cried the stranger perplexed-" What turn' 
 —Would place the king on your lathe, eh ?" 
 
 Our hero did not well know what to make of his quick and 
 versatile companion ; and while the old gentleman was laughing 
 at the jocular turn which he had himself given to the ScotUcism, 
 he said, "Im thinking, friend, ye're commanded no to spc-ak 
 with strangers anent his majesty's conduct; for ye blink the 
 question, ns they say in parliament." 
 
 " Parliament !-Been there ?-IIow do you like ii?-Much 
 cry and little wool among them, eh ?" 
 
 " Ye say Gude's truth, sir ; and I wish they would make their 
 speeches as short and pithy as the king's. I'm told his majesty 
 has a very gracious and pleasant delivery," rcDlied our "hp/o 
 pawkily ; and the stranger, not heeding his drift, "said, with sim- 
 plicity — ' 
 
 " It was so thought when he was young; but he is now an 
 old man, and not what I have known him." 
 
CHAPTER LXXV. — WINDSOR PARK. 
 
 335 
 
 but he is now an 
 
 «' I suppose," replied our hero, " that you have been long in 
 his service ? " 
 
 " Yes, I am one of his oldest servants. Ever since I could help 
 myself," was the answer, with a sly smile, " I may say I have been 
 his servant." 
 
 "And I dinna dout," replied the senator, " that you have had 
 an easy post." 
 
 " I have certainly obeyed his will," cried the stranger in a 
 ]\\e\y laughing tone ; but changing into a graver, he added—" But 
 what may be my reward, at least in this world, it is for you and 
 others to judge." 
 
 "I'm mista'en, then, if it shouldna be liberal," replied Andrew ; 
 « for ye seem a man of discretion ; and, doutless, merit the post 
 ye have so long possessed. Maybe some day in parliament I 
 may call this conversation to mind for your behoof. The king 
 canna gang far wrang sae lang as he keeps counsel with such 
 douce and prudent-like men, even though ye hae a bit flight of 
 the fancy. What's your name ? " 
 
 The old gentleman looked sharply ; but in a moment his coun- 
 tenance resumed its wonted open cheerfulness, and he said, " So 
 you are in parliament, eh ? — I have a seat there too — Don't often 
 go, however—Perhaps may see you there— Good-by, good-by." 
 
 " Ye'U excuse my freedom, sir," said Andrew, somewhat rebuked 
 by the air and manner in which his new acquaintance separated 
 from him ; " but if you are not better engaged, I would be glad 
 if we could breakfast together." 
 
 " Can't, can't," cried the old gentleman shortly, as he walked 
 away ; but turning half round, after he had walked two or three 
 paces, he added, "Obliged to breakfast with the king— he won't 
 without me;" and a loud and mirthful laugh gave notice to all 
 tlie surrounding echoes that a light and pleased spirit claimed 
 their blithest resironses. 
 
 There was not much in this conversation that satisfied our 
 liero, who perceived tlint it wrts nn easy matter to gain the sort 
 of knowledge which he had come on purpose to procure ; and in 
 the irksome humour which this reflection produced, he consumed 
 the moniing, loitering in the park and about the castle, till his 
 usual breakfast hour, when he returned to the inn. 
 
336 
 
 SIB ANDREW WTLIE. 
 
 CHAPTER LXXVI. 
 
 A LEVEE. 
 
 ■I ; ' ' 
 
 DuBmo breakfast in the coffee-room, Andrew learned from 
 some of the other strangers, who were similarly employed that 
 the best opportunity of seeing the royal family' was'whent,;' 
 went and came from church; for it was not always certain that 
 they would walk on the terrace in the evening 
 
 " But," said he, '• how am I to know the king? for I dinna 
 suppose that h.s arms are like twa wild beasts, the lion and th 
 umcorn. However, I'llavail myself of your counselling, and tak 
 
 ChapeU''' '' '' '^''''' '' "'' '"^'^ '"^''^^^^ to St George's 
 Accordingly, at the proper time he was at the place; but the 
 moment that the carriage with their majesties drew u^, heVaw 
 ti^ old gentleman whom he had met in the park alone with Z 
 queen ILs heart sank within him at the sight, and he fled 
 abashed and confounded ; for he discovered thai it was the king 
 himself, and he shrunk with alarm at the liberties he had taken 
 The terrors of this idea, however, abated as he returned to 
 London; and when he recalled to recollection aU that had passse,!, 
 
 Wm m ?• ^"/"'^J^'-^'y T ""' ^'^'^y '' ^' displeased wit, 
 him.^ By the time he reached home, he could, indeed, scarcely 
 retrain fron. smiling at the adventure, when he thought how 
 completely he had succeeded in the object of his excursion, at 
 the very time when he was despairing of any success. 
 
 ZZ\?^! T^ "'"'■"'"^ *^" '"^^q"'^ ^'^"ed to remind 
 
 nim that he was to be presented. 
 
 Andrew made something like an attempt to decline this 
 honour, in the hope that, by postponing it to a distant day, his 
 majesty might in the interim forget him; saying, "I dout my 
 lord marquis, it winna be in my power to go to court that day 
 I have a great fike o' matters in h.nd, concerning causes th t 
 are to be tried at the next term, and really I would fain postpone 
 It tor a season. ^ '^ 
 
CHAPTER LXXVr. — A LEVEE. 
 
 837 
 
 " That cannot be," replied his lordship seriously. " It is not 
 only expected that all my parliamentary friends should show 
 themselves at court, but be regular in their attendance." 
 
 " I hope, my lord, that your lordship doesna consider this 
 indispensable : for ye know a professional man cannot command 
 his time, if he would serve his clients with that fidelity which, 
 I hope, your lordship and all mine have ever found I have tried 
 to the best of my ability to do." 
 
 " But the public must also be served, and men in public situa- 
 tions must consider that. I therefore expect you will be ready 
 to go with me to St James's," replied the marquis. 
 
 "If your lordship makes a point o't, of consequence I maua 
 yield. But really I did not think that there was any great serving 
 o' the public by melting in a crowd at a levee." 
 
 "Mr Wylie," said the marquis gravely, I thought you had a 
 more correct notion of these sort of things. In what way can 
 the public interests be more effectually promoted, than by a 
 regular and dutiful attendance on the monarch ? Does it not 
 inspire the people with that awe and veneration, which is due 
 from them to the first person in the state ? In these times, when 
 the Jacobin principles of anarchy are so widely disseminated, it 
 requires the most strenuous efforts, on the part of all men who 
 have a stake in the country, to uphold the constitution in its 
 original purity, of king, lords, and commons. For my part, were 
 it not for a most devout persuasion of the utility of carrying my 
 homage to the foot of the throne, I would never breathe the air 
 of the court, for I have no natural taste for it. But, Mr Wylie, 
 when I reflect on the distinguished part that my family have 
 always taken in public affairs— in no instance, from the earliest 
 periods, have any of the Spangles been found deficient in their 
 attachment to the monarchy; having uniformly for ages, through 
 many changes, revolutions, and transfers of the dynasty, been 
 always found by the side of their sovereign— a systematic line 
 of policy which has secured them at all times, even in the rudest 
 and most turbulent, from the vicissitudes that have attended the 
 more versatile members of the baronage." 
 
 " I am very sensible of the eminent part that your lordship, 
 like your forefathers of great renown, has played in politics ; and 
 
 ^- Y 
 
338 
 
 SIB ANDREW WTUE. 
 
 no one can be more impressed than me with the honour of hems 
 taken by the hand, and led into the presence, by a nobleman of 
 your lordship's courtesy," replied Andrew, "b^t my obrecTion 
 was not to the action, but only to the time havingrL iTaW a 
 inTZr '"'^"^ ^^"- - ^-'^' ---^ on at fhe appL^h! 
 
 hourT"'JT"f .f '" '''" ""' '''^^"Py """'^ than two or three 
 hours rephed the marquis; "and when you have been pri! 
 sented, you may go as often after as you please ; for his 1^ 
 possesses the oxtraordinary faculty of ret Ling the ZtSit 
 recolleCon of every body that he has once seen." ^ 
 
 fAh .' exclaimed our hero. 
 " My dear friend," said the marquis soothingly, " I hope it is 
 not a twmge of the goutP" and his lordship immediate ymxl 
 tioned a med.cme which he had often himself taken wfth th^ 
 most beneficial eflPects. *"® 
 
 _ To this kindly sympathy, leaving, however, his lordship to 
 imagine that the pang, which ccca^i.ned the interjec xon ^ 
 angmsh, might have sprung from the gout, Andrew SVe 
 best answer he could ; and the marquis went awav ^th an 
 
 When the day arrived, our hero, for the first time in his Ufe. 
 was imtable and fretful. His new court suit of dark brown, n 
 his opmion, neither fitted, nor was it of a proper sobriety of 
 appearance. " The spurtle," as he peevishly'eaSed the swor 
 he thought would have hung more commodiously at the righ 
 than the left side. Every thing, in a word, teazecf him ; and h 
 banned the marquis for his perjinketies more than fifty time 
 before he was equipped. ^ 
 
 He delayed going to his lordship as long as possible, in order 
 
 allow the crowd time to fill the rooms before they could reach 
 
 the palace; his intention being to hasten past the king in the 
 
 throng and so to avoid any particular observation. The mar- 
 
 , ....... .6 a.. nxd, «us almost as much out of humour as 
 
 himself, declaring that he had never been so lateof goin- to the 
 levee before. ° 
 
 On reaching the palace, Andrew kept in the wake of his 
 
CHAPTER LXXVI. — A LEVEE. 
 
 339 
 
 of going to the 
 
 e wake of his 
 
 lordship, from the moment that they ascended the great stair- 
 case.^ To his short figure he trusted much; also something to 
 his nimbler 'ss when he should approach the king; and indeed 
 he so managed, that, by lowly crooking his knee at the presen- 
 tation, and cowering down his head, averting his face at the 
 same time, he had almost escaped the quick eye of royalty; but 
 in the very moment when he was endeavouring to slink in 
 behind the puckered form of a corpulent church-dignitary, he 
 was caught in the fact, and instantly recognize^ by the king. 
 
 "Ha! ha!" cried his majesty; "fine morning, shire of Ayr! 
 —Come to see the king, eh? Come to see the king? " 
 
 Our hero, seeing there was no retreating, instantly mustered ' 
 courage; and calculating on his knowledge of the king's familiarf 
 humour, said, "Ah! 'twas a soople trick o' your majesty to 
 delve a' out of me, and never to give me an inkling of who I was 
 speaking to." 
 
 The Marquis of Avonside was petrified, and stood aghast; 
 while the king, laughing heartily, amused by the recollection of 
 his own address, and pleased with the compliment which Andrew ' 
 had so dexterously applied, continued speaking,— " Could not 
 breakfast with you that morning, eh! But one good turn 
 deserves another. What turn in hand now?" and in saying 
 these words, his Majesty briskly addressed himself to a northern 
 noblemen, then high in his confidence and favour, and >aid, 
 "Your countryman, my lord— 'deevilish cunning,' as Sir Archy 
 says; but an honest man— honest man— noblest work of God!" 
 
 Andrew availed himself of this ellipsis in his majesty's dis- 
 course to hasten on, while some other person, to whom the king 
 had also something jocular to say, appeared in sight, and drew 
 off the royal attention from the new courtier. 
 
 The marquis was most seriously indignant when he after- 
 wards rejoined our hero, in their way to his lordship's carriage; 
 assuring him that he had run the greatest possible risk of meet- 
 
 in&r a most unornnimia roopnf-i^n T>.,f T „_.l o„_,j_i'--i i 
 . " -- — ~ •^" t-{>!!..,i, xjai ±jQi\: uSLTiUj lUlll, W'licn 
 
 mformed of the adventure, declared that he should not be «ur- 
 prised if our hero were to rival his famous countryman in the 
 royal favour. Nor was this opinion improbable; for immedi- 
 ately alter the next drawing-room, where he was again most 
 
340 
 
 SIR ANDREW WYI.IE. 
 
 cordially recognized by the king, he received an invitation to 
 one of the queen's parties at Buckingham-house, at which his 
 majesty requested him to come down to Windsor. 
 
 13ut history, when she records the cause which prevented our 
 hero from being able to avail himself of the royal condescension, 
 will change her smiles at the innocent foibles and artless jocu- 
 larity of George the Third ; and with a generous eloquence, 
 rising into all her dignity, will describe the constancy of his 
 virtues, the true English simplicity of his character, the forti- 
 tude of his public principles, and the purity of his private worth. 
 
 # 
 
 CHAPTER LXXVII. 
 
 
 THE SPIRIT OP IMPROVE.MENT. 
 
 Neither the east nor the west of Scotland afforas the best 
 market for the disposal of beautiful young ladies with large 
 fortunes. We have even some doubts whether those of the south 
 or the north be any better. Certain it is, that although Mary 
 Cunningham was, in all human probability, one of the finest 
 and fairest of the " Ayrshire lasses," and surpassed by few in the 
 prospects of fortune, she continued, during tlie regular advance- 
 ment of our hero, still to bloom uupiucked upon the parent 
 spray. She had, doubtless, a due portion of the homage of ten- 
 der glances, and of sordid proposals ; but in the sequestered 
 bower to which she was confined by the mingled spell of her 
 father's indolence and her aunt's pride and prudence, no accept- 
 able youth had obtained a proper clue to conduct him to her 
 presence or afieetions. For, saving at the annual papingo ball 
 at Kilwinning, she was rarely seen beyond the boundaries of the 
 Craiglands. One season, indeed, after her return from Edin- 
 burgh, and when the renewal of a lease of one of the farms had 
 brought a considerable augmentation to her father's income, her 
 aunt had influence enough to induce the laird to treat them with 
 the pleasures of the Ayr races, where Mary was universally 
 
 i 
 
 'fetil«-i,:,^^:^g^ 
 
CHAPTER LXXVII. — THE SPIRIT OP IMPROVEMENT. 341 
 
 admired, especially by the dashing officers of Lord Darlington's 
 cavalry, at that time encamped in the neighbourhood, and who, 
 like military men in general, thought as much of a rich heiress 
 as a great beauty. But the circumspect Miss Mizy had a well- 
 founded apprehension of the occasional demonstrations of the 
 military, and always drew her niece as far as possible from the 
 scene of danger, in truth, Mary herself did not seem to be 
 particularly interested by the accomplishments or understanding 
 of any of those Yorkshire her . s oi c.q unblemished sabre. But 
 this was not to be wonderf . at, when we consider that those 
 characteristics of intellectua svf eriorit; which have enabled the 
 possessors to perform such m;ruc;ies bf -' i abroad and at home, 
 we mean mustaches, had not ii a been revived in the British 
 army. 
 
 The jaunt to Ayr was in conseqiience productive of no event; 
 and Mary, after enjoying the social sunshine and gayeties of the 
 race-week, was conducted back to the dull monotony of that 
 monastic seclusion which she was fated to lead at the Craiglands. 
 
 A few of the county bachelors now and then called, and some- 
 times looked as if they could woo ; but they were all either too 
 weU-stricken in years, or cast in too clumsy a mould, without 
 any redeeming grace of mind, to gain on the affections of a 
 spirited and elegant girl, who was not entirely unconscious of 
 her charms. 
 
 We have been thus particular in describing the situation of 
 Miss Cunningham, because we have some reason to suspect that 
 her case is not a solitary one ; and also, because it wo: necessary 
 to explain how Fate worked, in the mean time, to kce,/ the pos- 
 sessor of so much beauty, and with such affluence in reversion, 
 almost neglected and unknown, while she was j)erforming such 
 prodigies to increase the fortune and augment the personal con- 
 sideration of her lover. 
 
 But although Mary was thus destined to bloom like a rose in 
 a eonsefvatory, her days neiilier passed Iti iiidolcnce nor without 
 enjoyment. Her education at Edinburgh had been skilfully con- 
 ducted ; and during her short visit to London, she had obtained 
 a view of the world, from which her imagination easily enabled 
 her to form a distinct and clear conception of its general out- 
 
342 
 
 SIR ANDREW WYLIE. 
 
 lines and bearings. Her taste, in consequence, found employment 
 m superintending the restoration of the pleasure grounds of the 
 Craiglands; and her address an object in obtaining from the 
 narrow ideas of her father, with respect to the importance of 
 such things, the requisite funds to defray the expense. In this 
 business she became insensibly and unconsciously a blessing to 
 the village of Stoneyholm ; for the old men found easier occupa- 
 tion in trimming tlie walks and lawns, than in hedging, and 
 ditching, and the statute-labour of the highways. She lightened 
 their tasks; and it is only by so doing that the rich can wisely 
 assist the poor; for toil is their inheritance, and all that the well 
 regulated spirits among them ever covet, is employment suitable 
 to their strength. 
 
 It was thus, under the auspices of Miss Cunningham, that 
 the genial influence of that improving genius, with which the 
 whole kingdom was at the time animated, took eflfect in the 
 native village of our hero-and he was not long uninformed of 
 the change; for the master, regularly at the bottom of the letters 
 which he wrote to him for his grandmother, mentioned from 
 himself whatever occurred at Stoneyholm; and the taste and 
 benevolence of Mary were the subjects T.hich, unaware of their 
 interest, he seemed most to delight in celebrating. "It is " said 
 the amiable Tannyhill in one of those double epistles, "a wonder 
 and pleasure to behold the beautifulness that's kithing around 
 the place-where Miss Mary, after a great work, has got the 
 laird not only to white-wash the walls of the house, but to do a 
 reparation to the dykes, that has made it no longer like the 
 sluggard's garden, which it was wont to b^. She has even per- 
 suaded him to get two lead rones, with fine gilded whirlgig tops 
 to them, such as no man in this country-«ide remembers to have 
 Been, fo" they came all the way out of Glasgow; and I was obli- 
 gated to give the school the play when the plumbers came to 
 set them up. Over and above all the good that she has done in 
 this way, making the walks paths of pUniMuiiness indeed, the 
 redding up of the Craiglands has had a manifest effect in the 
 way of example among ourselves, and we have several new 
 houses bigging;-among others, there is some talk of taking 
 down your grannie's, which she's a thought fashed at, having 
 
CHAPTER LXXVn. — THE SPIRIT OF IMPROVEMENT. 
 
 343 
 
 been so long her home, and would rather bide in it as it is, than 
 flit to a better, which she is well enabled to do, out of your 
 dutiful kindness." 
 
 Whatever satisftvction our hero derived from these epistles, 
 this one was not entirely without alloy. He remembered with 
 delight the innocent hours that he had spent in the old cottage; 
 and regretted so much that it was likely to be removt - before 
 his return, that by the next post he wrote to Mr Tannyhill to 
 offer any price for it and the garden, rather than it should be 
 changed or destroyed. The master was delighted with this 
 agency, and lost no time in effecting the purchase; but he was 
 so eager that he gave no less than five-and-twenty pounds, 
 being, in the opinion of every other inhabitant of the village, full 
 five pounds more than the whole property was worth. 
 
 Our hero having thus become landlord of the cottage, then 
 instructed his exulting agent to see that it was put into the most 
 perfect state of repair, without altering, in any degrefe, its appear- 
 ance ; and likewise to add at the back a small room, " which 
 must," as Andrew said in his letter, " be in a better fashion, with 
 a deal floor, in case grannie was taking any ailment, or I could 
 find time and opportunity to see my old friends ; for I would 
 not like to vex her by tokingup my lodging in another dwelling." 
 This hint begat an exptctation that Andrew would probably 
 soon visit Stoneyholm; but when it was known there that he 
 was elected a member of parliament, the hope was abandoned; 
 and yet the master continued to declare that he could see no 
 change which the elevation had produced in his letters; "for 
 they continue," said he, "as Ical-hcarted as ever." 
 
 Old Martha herself did not rightly understand in what the 
 dignity consisted; but said, "I hope it's no ill, nor ony thing 
 about the court, where a' sin and corruption abounds. Indeed, 
 I needna be feared o' that, for Andrew; poor fallow, was ne'er 
 cut out for prancing on skeigh horses, or gieing the word o' 
 command to'rampaging dragoons, and men of renown, that are 
 proud and mighty in battle." 
 
344 
 
 SIK AKDREW WYLIE. 
 
 CHAPTER LXXVIII. 
 
 roLincs. 
 
 DuEm.^ the winter after our hero's election, and before the 
 meeting of parhament, Lord and Lady Sandyford came to town 
 much, however, against their own wishes. But his lordship had 
 been persuaded by some of his old friends, public characters 
 whom he esteemed, that he ouglit to resume his duty as a peer 
 On this occasion the Marquis of Avonside, who, in all things" 
 was a conscientious observer of forms, deemed it necessary, soon 
 after their arrival, to issue cards for a splendid party, in order to 
 exhdM. them in their state of reunion to the fr^^nds of hil 
 family. Among the nobility invited, both as a matter of course 
 and from a wish to bring Lord Riversdale again forward in' 
 public hfe, were several members of the ministry. But the 
 viscount had predetermined never to form any political con! 
 nexion; and when made acquainted with the names and titles 
 of the expected guests, almost resolved to leave London for a 
 time rather than be present; although the occasion was one 
 which h,s father endeavoured to convince him involved, in many 
 respects, tne honour of his sister. ^IIow it should have been sup! 
 posed to do s... we have never properly understood. At the same 
 time he agreed with the marquis, that a general congregation of 
 all the leading members of the Avonside and S.ndyford families 
 was a fitting and expedient manner of showing to the wo^d 
 the satisfaction with which the reconciliation was con ide ;d 
 Before however, finally deciding as to the part he wouid per- 
 lorm, Lord Riversdale went to Sandylbrd House, to consult the 
 earl on the subject, and, on being shown into tli^ library, fou'd 
 his lordship sitting with our hero. ^ 
 
 After some general observations as to the state of the weather 
 the prelude to all business between Englishmen, except ihon 
 they meet at Chalk Farm, or any other ultimatum of hono'ur- 
 on hese occasions, we believe it is not according to etiquette to 
 
 tTon^ ?r '"'rr^'' ^' *'^ morning-Lord Riversdale men 
 tioned to the earl his embarrassment at the idea of renewing h"s 
 
CHAPTER LXXVIII. — POLITICS. 
 
 345 
 
 acquaintance with the statesmen alluded to, adding, that nothing 
 but his rega-d for Lady Sandyford and his ioidship would induce 
 him for a moment to hesitate. 
 
 The earl rather pitied the sensitive vidcount than respected 
 him ; for he could discern beneath his extreme delicacy of senti- 
 ment, much of the hereditary weakness of the marquis, his father, 
 and used indeed to say that Riversdale's fine sense of political 
 virtue was but a cutaneous irritation of i ; mind. However, he 
 listened to him with great gravity, and when the viscount had 
 made an end oi his case, he put on a face of serious considera- 
 tion, and then said— "In a matter of such importance, I am not, 
 my dear lord, qualified to give you any advice; for, never having 
 been a decided political character myself, being, Indeed, almost 
 in doubt whether I am now considered as belonging to the 
 minibterial or opposition side of the House, I cannrt enter into 
 your feelings; but I dare say our friend, the member here, may 
 be able to understand the importance of so grave a question." 
 
 "I should never once have thought of speaking to him," re- 
 plJxl the viscount querulously; "for going into the House under 
 my father's auspices, he has, of course, linked himself to his 
 lordship's party, and will, i o doubt, ho as anxious to strengthen 
 their number and influence as the marquis himself." 
 
 Lord Sandyford smiled at this attack, and enjoyed the antici- 
 pation of a retort. 
 
 " 'Deed my lord," cried our hero, "ye'ra all wrong. I came 
 in on my own pock nook, as we say in b'cotland when a man 
 lives on his own means— and I wish your lordship no to go 
 away in the belicC, I'.at, as a member of parliamvut, I hold my- 
 stlf at the good-will of either prince or potentate, peer or pre- 
 late. It's true, I mean to uphold and assist the king and con- 
 stitution, to the best )f my judgment. But " 
 
 "I beg your pardon, Mr Wylie, I meant no offence!" ex- 
 claimed Riversdale. "On public affairs, and the principles and 
 : characters of public men, every one i.^ free to speak You vir- 
 tually, indeed, acknowledge yourself to be wedded to my father's 
 party; and therefore I am justified in thinking that, like his 
 I lordship, you are naturally anxious to strengthen that party." 
 Lord Sandyford looked seriously at the member, apprehensive 
 
346 
 
 SIE ANDEEW WTLIE. 
 
 ::*■ 
 
 1 ! 
 
 that the morbid viscount had gone too far; but our hero, with 
 a significant smile, re-established his confidence. 
 
 "It's very true," replied Wylie, "that I naturally wish to I 
 strengthen the influence of what you call my party; but thef 
 means of doing that lie in the common sense of the country at 
 large. It's no to be done by votes of members, but by satisfy. 
 ing public opinion — which is the god of the political world, 
 And, my Lord Riversdale, since ye think yoursel' a public man, 
 and wasna blate in expressing what ye thought of me as another, 
 alloo me to say, that I do not think my party would be strength- 
 ened by the like — I'll no say of you — but of any man who I 
 thinks himself privileged to indulge his own humours in the I 
 service of the commonweal, or no to serve it at all, just as the! 
 wind sits with him." 
 
 The earl, afraid that if he allowed the viscount to reply, the 
 conversation would become still more acute, although he per- 
 ceived that the member's resentment was satisfied in giving this 
 rebuke, interposed, and said briskly, "I suspect, Wylie, that 
 some part of your animadversions were levelled at me, who, 
 among other derelictions, must reckon the slackened interest 
 that I have for years taken in public affairs." 
 
 "As for that," replied Andrew laughing, " I never attached l 
 much importance to your lordship as a politician; for you are 
 one of those who are naturally born to be in opposition." 
 
 "Born ! " exclaimed the earl ; " who ever heard of such philo- 
 Bophy?" 
 
 "I should be sorry if ony sic blethers as philosophy were in 
 what I mean. The world's made up of two sort of folk — menf 
 of deeds, and men of thought. The men oi" deeds have aye had! 
 the upper hand, and will keep it to the day of judgment; the I 
 men of thought are those that scheme, and those that find fault; 
 and the ends and purposes of the men o' deeds, are to carry into 
 effect the suggestions of the one under the correction of the 
 other. Your lordship is no just one of the schemers, nor ex- 
 actly a fault-finder, but ye're made up of the elements of both, 
 and all your speculations wotdd naturally make you an adver- 
 sary to the men of deeds ; and, of course, in opposition to those 
 in authority and power." 
 
but our hero, •with 
 nee. 
 
 naturally wish to 
 my party ; but the 
 i of the countiy at 
 ers, but by satisfy- 
 he political world, 
 irsel' a public man, 
 It of me as another, 
 would be strength" 
 
 of any man who 
 n humours in the 
 
 at all, just as the 
 
 jcunt to reply, thej 
 , although he per- 
 isfied in giving this I 
 ispect, Wylie, that 
 relied at me, who, 
 slackened interest 
 
 " I never attached i 
 ician ; for you are | 
 opposition." 
 eard of such philo- 
 
 philosophy were in] 
 sort of folk — men I 
 
 leods have aye had 
 of judgment: tbe| 
 
 lose that find fault; 
 
 s, are to carry into I 
 
 ( correction of the 
 schemers, nor «• 
 elements of botl), 
 
 xke you an adver- 
 
 opposition to those 
 
 CHAPTER liXXVin. — POLITICS. 
 
 347 
 
 "\^Tiat says the Stagyrite on that, Hiversdale?" said the earl, 
 laughing. " By the shade of the mighty Julius;, I have never 
 heard half so good an account of the necessary and natural in- 
 stitution of a parliamentary opposition; and I am persuaded 
 there is some truth in the theory. Indeed I ne\^er heard of a 
 regular opposition-man that, in private life, was an agreeable 
 man of business, however intelligent as such — a proof that he 
 was deficient in some of those conciliatory business-qualities, 
 which, in the management of public affairs, are of as much im- 
 portance as talents. But Wylie, as, according to this notion of 
 yours, if I am constrained by nature to be in opposition, even 
 although not belonging decidedly either to the schemers or the 
 fault-finders, I must of course be an inferior among them. Yoa 
 give me but sorry encouragement to re-enter the arena of 
 public life." 
 
 "Your lordship," replied Andrew, with animation, "would 
 make a -'v:y good king in a limited monarchy, vrhere the con- 
 stitution s works, that the sovereign has never the entire upper 
 hand. But In any uiher post of power, I have rny doubts that 
 you would sometimes be gien to the breaking of old and sacred 
 things, for the pleasure of mending them; and may be, now and 
 then, trying the mouth of the horse, by pulling his bridle unne- 
 cessarily. No, my lord, ye' re no qualified to shine as a states- 
 man — I never thought it, since ye will have my opinion, though 
 no one can mair admire your pleasant talents. Your mind is 
 ouer fin'^ for daily use; something coarser is wanted for the toil 
 and moil, the jangling and the banter of public life; and your 
 wisest way, as ye have no chance of being a king of the kind I 
 was speaking anent, is to be the next thing till't. Settle your- 
 self in ths princely house of Chastington, with your leddy, and 
 there, like two patriarchs, beget sons and daughters ; and ye'U 
 scr"e your country better in fostering the comforts of the 
 tenantry around you, than by a' the spuLchcs that ye're able to 
 speak, though ye were ten times better at the art than P-t., uad 
 Fox, and a' the rest of them carded through " ther." 
 
 "Yes!" exclaimed Lord Sandyford, surprised at the superi- 
 oiity thus assumed and felt, while he was amused at its simpli- 
 city— "Yes, my friend, you are right— I am not fit for public 
 
 tul 
 
S48 
 
 SIR ANDREW WYJLTR, 
 
 life— I have been long conscious nf thy iruth, and f *iH take 
 your advice— I se? its wisdom, ;;nd I olv j its jnfluer,ee So| 
 you see Riversdale, as thei a is i.o chance of the minif,tj,y diarm- 
 ing you into their party, they ai- likely, by ray abandon- i 
 ing the intention of re-enterii.g v)arliament, to gain as much by 
 this cour^ultation, a« if you were already spellbound ti their I 
 service." 
 
 The visviunt did r-it misch relish ihe insinuation; bul, struck | 
 with the remarks which hwl fiiUen from our 1 , said, '-I think, 
 Mr Wylie, considering w)iat hus passer), you nmy t*3ll me in I 
 which of your two great classes you place me. The result may 
 be lu decisive as with his lordship." 
 
 ^'1 dinna think so," replied Wylie; "ye're no made of such 
 KVilleable metal. But though I canna say just what ye are, 
 knowing so little of you, I'll undertake to tell your fortune, 
 When the marquis is a little mair failed, ye'll be called up to 
 the House of Peers; and I'll no (Ifspair of hearing you move the 
 address, in answer to the speech from the throne, in the first 
 session after." 
 
 Lord Sandyford threw himself back in his chair, unable to 
 control his laughter, while the astonished viicount changed 
 colour. ' 
 
 ^ "Look at his feet, Riversdale!" exclaimed the earl, "look at 
 his feet ! They must be cloven." 
 
 "Noo, an ye had the decision of character which the earl 
 possesses," said Andrew, rising to take his leave, "ye would 
 just at once, on this spot, not only resolve to take your place at J 
 your father's table, along with the ministers, but ask tliera, 
 before they quit the house, to summon you to the peers, because 
 ye dislike the coarse manners and the turbulent debates of the| 
 Commons. It will come with you to that at last, and there's; 
 no apostasy in't; for the French Revolution, that ye set out, as | 
 I have heard, with worshipping, has apostatized to sucli a 
 degree, that the question h no longer, whether mankind arc en- 
 titled to have liberty or equality, hut whether they shall submit 
 to a military despotism. When -s are brought back to ik 
 stats of the golden age of the Fi i , j- .jlne, ye may indulge your 
 phUanthropic politics. ^ . ^:U > Hen, ray lord, ys may, with » 
 
CHAPTER LXXIX. — A PtOT. 
 
 349 
 
 Isafe conscience, support any ministers in this country, that set 
 Itheraselves against the domineering insolence of a pack of licen- 
 Itious adventurers, that hae no other object in view but to riot at 
 [Paris, like our own sailors at Portsmouth or Plymouth when 
 [they receive prize-money." 
 
 And with this the conversation and interview ended; for Ri- 
 jversdale came away at the same time with our hero, and as they 
 I walked down Lower Grosvenor Street, tried to convince him, 
 that having once abandoned parliament, it would be inconsis- 
 tent to take any part again in public life; to all which, Andrew 
 only remarked, " Weel, weel, my lord ; but make no rash vows, 
 and think on what I was saying." 
 
 CHAPTER LXXIX. 
 
 A PLOT. 
 
 med the earl, "look at 
 
 When Lord Riversdale and our hero had retired from Sandy- 
 
 I ford House, the earl felt himself irresistibly inclined to play 
 
 them both a little prank. Accordingly, he soon after ..-"nt to 
 
 pay a morning visit to the marquis, with the view of ascertain- 
 
 j ing who were to be of his grand party. 
 
 "I am not sure," said his lordshij), with affected seriousness, 
 in conversing on the subject with the old peer, " that it will 
 exactly do for me to meet so many of your ministerial friends. 
 Your lordship knows that I have had some intention of resu- 
 ming my parliamentary duties, and that I have always been 
 considered as belonging to the Whig side of the House." 
 
 " That doubt," replied the marquis, with a complacent smile, 
 "shows, indeed^ to which side of the House ""nur lordshio 
 belongs; for none of ours would ever think his f;haracter or 
 principles likely to become questionable, by meeting in private 
 life with even the most violent and distinguished of your 
 leaders." 
 
350 
 
 SIR ANDREW WYUE. 
 
 ■ f 
 
 " Nay," said Lord Sandyford, " I had no doubts on the sub- 
 ject till Riversdale called this morning, evidently so much in al 
 vacillating perplexity, that our friend Wylie advised him to a&\\ 
 the minister at once to summon him to the peers." 
 
 "You don't say so?" exclaimed the marquis with delighted I 
 surprise. 
 
 "I do indeed, my lord," was the answer; "and it is therefore) 
 under some apprehension, that the event may be consummated 
 when Riversdale meets the minister, that a regard for the deli- 
 cacy of my own political reputation makes me question the] 
 propriety of being of the party." 
 
 "It is very surpri?irg," replied the marquis with solemnity, 
 "that Piiversdale has never hinted any thing to me on the sub- 
 ject. He cannot but know the pleasure and satisfaction which I 
 I shall receive, on learning that he has at last returned to a due| 
 sense of his duty as a member of the British nobility." 
 
 " I beg your lordship's pardon," said the earl, still preserving; I 
 the gravest countenance possible. " Riversdale has not decidedly I 
 made up his mind ; on the contrary, he is as diffident as a young I 
 lady before giving her consent, and some few caresses from the I 
 minister may yet be requisite to complete his conversion. But, 
 my lord, among your expected guests, I do not recollect that | 
 you have named Wylie." 
 
 " He is not invited," was the answer. 
 
 " Indeed !" replied Lord Sandyford with well affected cold- 
 ness ; " I thought, considering the \ art he has played in the I 
 drama, of which this said dinner is the denouement, his absence 
 will be a blank. Lady Sandyford will be hugely disappointed."! 
 
 " It did not strike me in that light before," said the marquis;! 
 " but I will instantly send him a card, though between our- 
 gelves, my lord, his manners are not just 'n unison with those oil 
 the company I expect." 
 
 " You will particularly oblige me by inviting him," rejoined I 
 the earl ; " and I am persuaded that were he brought more into | 
 society with Riversdale, the conversion, to which your lordshif 
 looks forward with so much solicitude, will be the sooner accom- 
 plished." 
 
 The marquis, although naturally dull, saw through the qui" 
 
CHAPTER LXXIX. — A PLOT. 
 
 351 
 
 through the qui" 
 
 I zical humour of his son-in-law : and laughing, said, " Really, 
 Sandyford, I know not what to make of you ; but has Iliversdala 
 in any degree changed his opinions ?" 
 
 " In truth, my lord, I very much suspect he has unconsciously 
 -at least Wylie thinks he will soon change ; and I place great 
 reliance on his discernment and sagacity. I would therefore 
 1 advise your lordship to give the minister a hint. 
 
 " Well, well, but joking aside," cried the delighted father, 
 i « how does it happen that you, a Whig, should be so anxious to 
 be rid, as it were, of Riversdale ?" 
 
 " Because," replied the earl, " when I get into office, I shall 
 employ only the sound and true of our own party ; and I ha-ve 
 my doubts of Riversdale." 
 
 The marquis again perceived that the earl was playing with 
 him, and said, " I see how it is, Sandyford ; you have some 
 motive for wishing to see your friend, the member, along with 
 the minister ; and all this is but a manceuvre for some sinister 
 purpose that you do not choose to explain." 
 
 " I am sure," replied the earl laughing, " your lordship can- 
 not suspect I entertain any hope, that W' ylie, by being brought 
 into social contact with the heaven-born statesman, will return 
 home a Whig, or think less of him as a man than as a min- 
 ister?" 
 
 " You are a most extraordinary puzzle, Sandyford," said the 
 marquis. " Knowing as I do what your party say of my dis- 
 tinguished friend, I should not be surprised were you to confess 
 that you really entertain some expectation of seeing Wylie's 
 confidence shaken in the minister's talents, by witnes^ng how 
 much that eminent person can bend to the common level of 
 human nature in the friendly moments of convivial ease ; for I 
 have all along suspected that you were not satisfied to find 
 Wylie arrayed on our side." 
 
 " Ah, my lord, that was a bold stroke of yours ; and certainly 
 I have no reason to be pleased that ho has turned a Tory," 
 replied the earl waggishly ; but, la truth, he had never given 
 the subject a moment's reflection. 
 
 " Yes," said the marquis, rubbing his hands with glee ; " i 
 do take some c"')dit to myself for that, as I doubt xiot your lord- 
 
s/ia 
 
 SIB ANDEEW WTLIE. 
 
 ship did * itend to return him on your own interest. A man of 
 hii talents was not to be lost to the country." 
 
 The earl was amused at the idea of the marquis, in supposing 
 that the integrity of Wylie's charactei- was so pliant as to be 
 moulded by any parliamentary connexion ; and said coldly, as if 
 . in resentment for the reflection implied on the opposition, but in 
 reality to pruI'^T^ i" -ifling with the self-complacency of the 
 old peer, 'me loss to the country is by the side he has 
 chosen." 
 
 The marquis immediately explained, or, in better English, 
 made an apology, and, of course, the conversation was changed; 
 for the good-nature of Lord Sandyford would not allow him to 
 dally longer with trifles, to which the marquis attached the 
 most serious importance, and with which he could not go i'urther, 
 without the risk of encroaching on feelings and prejudices, that 
 it would have been as hopeless as cruel to have attempted to 
 change or controvert. The consequence, however, of this con- 
 versation, wa? an immediate invitation to our hero, atid a visit 
 the same afternoon from the marquis to th- minister, to intin jtc 
 that, by a few particular attentions, he hau some reason to hop; 
 Lord Riversdale would be found not altogether incorrigible ii 
 his political heresies. 
 
 The minister, engrossed with the arduous tasks of his great 
 office during a period of rapid changes and awful events, knew 
 little of the character of Lord Riversdale. ii. only recollected, 
 that jcvenil years before, when his lordship entered parliament, 
 he had heard hi n spoken of as a young nobleman of very pro- 
 mising talents but infected with revolutionary opinions. He 
 was therefore pleased to rcKieive so favourable an account of the 
 state of his sentiments, and congratulated the marquis on the 
 ?.. )spect of seeing the good :\d English principles of his family 
 inherited by a son able and qualified to support thorn with vigour 
 and dignity. 
 
 la the mean le Lr.dy Sandyford hiil received an account 
 from the rl of the conversations of the morninL', and freely 
 acknowi'»(( \ th-t her opinions, both as to his character and 
 that of hi brot -, coincided with those of our hero; wliile 
 she could not refrain from jocularly remonstrating with his 
 
interest. A man of 
 f." 
 
 larqins, in supposing 
 5 so pliant as to be 
 and said coldly, as if 
 ihe opposition, but in 
 -complacency of the 
 by the side he has 
 
 •, in better Enj^ilsh, 
 '"sation was changed; 
 uld not allow him to 
 arquis attached the 
 could not go further, 
 1 and prejudices, that 
 ) have attempted to 
 lowever, of this con- 
 our hero, aiid a visit 
 minister, to intin j'(> 
 some reason to hop; 
 ether incorrigible ii. *~ 
 
 IS tasks of his great 
 awful events, knew | 
 IJo only recollected, 
 I entered parliament, 
 bleman of very pro- 
 jnary opinions. He J 
 lie an account of the I 
 the marquis on the! 
 nciples of his family I 
 ort thorn with vigour 
 
 received an account 
 mornina, and freely 
 o his character and 
 of onr hero ; while 
 onstrating with his 
 
 CHAPTER LXXX. — A STATESMAN. 
 
 353 
 
 lordship for indulging his waggery at the expense of her father, 
 whom she was apprehensive might in consequence be brought 
 into some awkward dilemma with the minister. 
 
 CHAPTER LXXX. 
 
 A STATESMAN. 
 
 OoB hero, on the day of the Marquis of Avonside's banquet, 
 arri/cd a short time before Lo- ' and Lady Sandyford. The 
 principal guests were already assembled ; and among them the 
 premier, with several of the other ministers who had received 
 invitations. When Andrew was announced, his name, as one 
 of the marquis's new members, naturally excited the attention 
 of the politicians ; and he perceived, on entering the drawing- 
 room, that his appearance did not produce the most reverential 
 impression on the minor statesmen. But the minister, with 
 that bright and penetrating look for which he was so remarkable, 
 darted at him a keen and inquisitive glance ; and, as soon as 
 ' ndrew had made his bow to their noble host, crossed the floor 
 io ards him. " His strides," as our hero himself described 
 them, " Te as stiflF and as long as a splinkcy laddie's stalking 
 on stii and, without being introduced, he immediately 
 
 entered into conversation with hiiu, in so condescending a man- 
 ner that Wylie felt it as particular. 
 
 The acute and pedagogue aspect of that great man was not 
 culeulated tn conciliate at first -ight ; but there was a charm in 
 the urbanity of his voice, and i:,e full rounded harmony his 
 language, which almost persuaded the stranger that the meag ^ 
 anatomy of his figure was invested with magnificence and dig- 
 nity. Tlu' moment that the premier spoke, our hero felt the full 
 force of its infl lence ; and for some time stood overpowered, at 
 once by its effects and the sense of an affability too artificial to 
 be agreeable. The calm sustained voice and measured sentences 
 gave him, indeed, a feehng of the existence of a faculty far 
 
 ^' z 
 
 
354 
 
 SIR ANDREW WYLlii. 
 
 superior to the more various and impassioned eloquence which 
 occasionally burst from Lord Sandyford ; but under all the 
 acquired habits and accomplishments of the minister, he intul- 
 ti\ely discovered that lofty pride which constituted the hard 
 features of his character, and he would have retreated from his 
 condescension. This, however, the other was determined not to 
 permit; for he had made himself, in some degree, acquainted 
 with the history and talents of all the new members returned at 
 the late election, and had received a strong impression, but not 
 altogether a correct one — for it was chiefly from the marquis — 
 of the professional address and general ability of our hero, and 
 was resolved to cultivate his acquaintance particularly. 
 
 He had therefore, as we have mentioned, immediately addressed 
 him in a distinguished manner — flatteringly on those topics with 
 which he conceived him to be best informed. But neither by 
 professional subjects — nor by public affairs — nor by the princi- 
 ples of political economy — nor by the beauties of classic literature 
 — nor by the ancient or modern history of England, or of Europe 
 — no, not by one of all the different tests which he was in the prac- 
 tice of applying to strangers, especially to young members of 
 parliament, did tlie minister obtain a single answer, that in any 
 degree corresponded with the opinion he had been tauglit to 
 form of Wylie's intelligence and sagacity ; and he was on the 
 point of turning away from him, to enquire of the marquis if 
 this was indeed the new member for Bidfort, of whom his lord- 
 ship had spoken in terms of such admiration and respect, when 
 Lord and Lady Sandyford were announced. 
 
 The moment the earl entered the room, he saw Andrew's 
 embarrassment, as he stood with the premier, lilte, as his lord- 
 ship often said, a guinea-pig beside a camelopard in the plates 
 of some 'heap edition of Buffon, and almost immediately joined 
 them. 
 
 The minister was slightly acquainted with the earl; he had 
 heard of his talents, and he knew his history. He accordingly 
 addressed him in his best and freest manner ; insomuch, that 
 our hero could not but admire the tact and spirit with which 
 his lordship's peculiarities were so dexterously treated, while at 
 the same time he was unconsciously obliged to notice the striking 
 
CHAPTEE LXXX. — A STATESMAN. 
 
 355 
 
 otice the striking 
 
 contrast between the elegant natural freedom of his patron, and 
 tlie formal and elaborated affability of the statesman. 
 
 When the first salutations were over, the earl looked merrily 
 at Andrew, as he said to the minister, "I hope my friend Wylie 
 is to move the address on the king's speech? He looks as if you 
 had been saying he was expected to do so ! " 
 
 "If it would afford any gratification to your lordship that Mr 
 VVylic should undertake tlie task, an arrangement may be made 
 for that purpose," replied the minister. 
 
 The earl bowed, and said, with a smile that was felt as it was 
 meant, "I can have no wish to interfere with any ministerial 
 arrangement;" and he added, in a still gayer strain, "But I 
 should like to hear what view my friond would take of the 
 expediency of continuing the war, the usual topic on such 
 occasions." 
 
 "I fancy," replied Andrew, "that then can be little doubt of 
 that expediency for a twelvemonth or so yet." 
 
 " Yet ! " exclaimed the minister, stri ck both with the word 
 and the manner in whicn it was said— 'Do you then think that 
 the continuance of the v/ar ought not to be regulated by events? 
 — ought not to be contingent on the development of circum- 
 stances? — and that it is so governed by natural laws as to par- 
 take in some degree of the nature and duration of an organized 
 existence ? " 
 
 "Just so, sir," replied the new member, "for all the wildfire 
 of the French Revolution is burned out : and lioney, the sorrow, 
 though he calls himself a consul, is just a king; all things are 
 settling into a kingly order again, but no of a peaceable sort ; 
 on that account, a peace is, I'm thinking, the only way of car- 
 rying on the war." 
 
 "How so?" said Lord Sandyford, interested by the remark, 
 and by the effect which it seemed to produce on the statesman. 
 " Because," replied our hero, " the frame of government that's 
 now in France is the creature of the public opinion which was 
 begotten out of the events of the war ; and it is only adapted for 
 a state of tribulation and tvarfare; and therefore, if ye wish to 
 see the downfal of Boney's dominion, ye must subject it to a 
 change of public opinion, the which change will grow out of a state 
 
 
356 
 
 SIR ANDREW WYLIE 
 
 Of peace But I have a notion that it's no just expedient yet to 
 come to terms with him; he must he alloow'd to feel himsel' more 
 3et led; ye must give him length of rope, that he may grow a 
 1 tie more unbearable before ye make peace; for it's only by 
 etting the wud deevi! o' a body believe it may do what it likes, 
 that ye re to wile him and his legions into the snare o' destruc- 
 tion. His power is only to be cast down by his own folly • and 
 ye maun submit to make peace belyve, just to let the world see 
 that h.s system is no one which can be endured in peace. In 
 short, Its my conceit that there can be no durable peace con- 
 tracted with rampageous soldiers ; and what will France do witl, 
 all her arm.es in a time of peace? She'll just gang again to 
 war and the world will rise in a rage to put her down, as a 
 wild beast that must be driven into a den and muzzled ^lierc " 
 
 Ihe mmister said nothing; but when Lady Sandyford came 
 up and drew Andrew aside to speak to him concerning some 
 httle affair that she wished him to do for her, he remained for 
 some time thoughtful, and then addressed himself to Lord Sandy- 
 ford, saying "Mr Wylie has placed the expeJioncy of makin. 
 peace with Fran^. ^ a singular point of view. I perceive that 
 he deserves his hign character; although he is in acquirements 
 far below mediocrity, and in the ostensible glitter of talent 
 greatly inferior to many men, who can form no mch conception 
 of that policy which future considerations may render it exr,e - 
 dient to adopt." ' ' ' 
 
 Dinner was announced; and, in taking his seat at the table 
 the minister placed himself beside our hero, and treated him 
 with that freedom which constituted one of the powerful charms 
 ot his private life. 
 
 CHAPTER LXXXI. 
 
 A PROSELYTE, 
 
 Lord Rlversdale, from a presentiment arising cither from the 
 prediction of our hero, or from some consciousness of a chungo 
 
CHAPTER LXXXI. A PROSELYTE. 
 
 357 
 
 it expedient yet to 
 3 feel himsel" more 
 it he may grotv a 
 
 ; for it's only by 
 T do what it likes, 
 
 snare o' destrue- 
 lis own folly ; and 
 I let the world see 
 'ed in peace. In 
 irable peace con- 
 ill France do with 
 st gang again to 
 t her down, as a 
 muzzled there." 
 
 Sandyford came 
 concerning some 
 
 he remained for 
 
 If to Lord Sandy- 
 
 lioncy of making 
 
 I perceive that 
 
 in acqui-ements 
 glitter of talent 
 
 =iuch conception 
 r render it expe • 
 
 oat at the table, 
 md treated him 
 powerful charms 
 
 cither from the 
 ess of a change 
 
 ■within himself, which he was averse to acknowledge, did not 
 make his appearance ia the drawing-room ; and in taking his 
 seat at the dinner-table, kept as far aloof as possible from the 
 minister, in order to avoid the seduction of his attentions. The 
 Earl of Sandyford suspecting the viscount's feelings, and his 
 own playful disposition having been renewed to a boyish gayety 
 from the time of his reunion with the countess, he couhl not 
 resist the temptation of bringing him at once into communion 
 with the stately premier. Accordingly, as he happened to sit 
 next Riversdale, he observed to him that his acknowledgments 
 to the minister's salutation were so cold and distant, that it must 
 have attracted the notice of all present; and that people might 
 t.iink it weak of him to inf"inge the reciprocities of social life 
 by such a decided manifestation of political prejudice. This 
 was quite enough to make Riversdale change his whole demean- 
 our : — from that moment he used innumerable little artifices of 
 address to engage the attention of the statesman, and not long 
 without effect, for the quick eye and quicker mind of the minis- 
 ter almost instantaneously discovered that Riversdale was actu- 
 ated by some motive; and under the impression which the 
 marquis had given him of a change in the viscount's opinions, 
 he attributed his attentions to that source. A most deliglitful 
 ecjuivoque of deference and submission on the part of the 
 viscount, and of compliments and courtesies on that of the 
 |iremier, was in consequence performed between them, to the 
 iufinite amusement of Lord Sandyford. Things, indeed, went 
 so far, that our hero became interested in the result; not, how- 
 ever, suspecting the cause, till he happened to observe the arch 
 roguery with which the earl was watching the progress of the 
 scene. 
 
 " I think that Lord Riversdale," said the member, whisper- 
 ingly to the minister, "would not be ill -pleased to move the 
 address in the peers — ye should give him a summons." 
 
 This was somewhat in a plainer and more point-blank style 
 than statesmen are accustomed to receive suggestions; but 
 tlie premier had by this time formed a correct opiniou of 
 Wviie's downright character, and observed laughingly, at 
 perceiving that the motives of his reciprocities with Rivers- 
 
 ' .r. 
 
'-'M: 
 
 358 
 
 SIR ANDREW WTLIE. 
 
 dale were so clearly seen through, "Will you propose the thing 
 
 him Vh.r '^■'''* *" '^^ '^'"*' ^"* y' ^^^^"^'i first try to show 
 ^Z^/ZZ^'' '''- ^^^^- *^^ ir^^es oT 
 
 Lord Sandyford observing the under tone in which this brief 
 d alogue was carried on, partly guessed the subject, and sh k 
 h s head significantly to Wylie ; nothing further ho vever took 
 place while the ladies ren.ained at table, for the niinis L il, 
 to condole with the Duchess of Dashingwell, who s-it nt h 
 right hand, on the necessity he should be und r oftiiti t 
 some new tax, affecting to consult her grace whetl le catHf 
 well as dogs might not be rendered prodLtive to ho Jv ..e 
 amusing her with his badinage, to which, with a sort of o "L; 
 good taste he gave an air of official formality, that ^'^ 
 
 When the ladies had retired, he took an opportunity to advort 
 to some recent explosion of popular feeling; remarkin/t U 
 -cerity, that, prior to the American war, thf European ^^v" 
 mems were so strong, that they undervalued insunLtions iut 
 
 falling into the opposite error, and that many of the ham, ol 
 ebuhtions of the populace ran the risk of behig consS - 
 pohtica dangers. The perfect clearness, beauty, and ctn^ J 
 
 sTnt at '' T ''^'"'^ ^^^^^^^ ^''^ "dmiraL: of :.r;:^ 
 
 sent, and was in charming unison with the sentiments of Un\ 
 Riversdale. Even the Earl of Sandyford, who had no ar i^ 
 esteen, ,„ the minister, was delighted alike with tl.e'li " , 
 of the sentiment, and the inimitable elegance and persp c d ' ^ 
 he illustrat ons. Our hero alone had any suspiZ 't, « 
 design for which it was made; but he s ' also in X." nti „ 
 iesM.owever, of the matter, than of the address of ti: s" ak r ' 
 'He conversation then naturally diverged to subjects conneT . 
 ed with popular governments, in which the earl bore a di h 
 gmshed part, and expressed himself on the vanityof popular " 
 
CHAPTER LXXXI. — A PROSELYTE. 
 
 359 
 
 propose the thing 
 
 laritv, -with such perfect gruce, that every one who heard him, 
 deplored in their own minds that such superior talents should 
 have so long been misapplied. In ilk^tratioa of his opinions, 
 he repeated, — 
 
 " For what is glory but tlie blaze of fame, 
 The people's praise, if always praise immix'd? 
 Ami wliat the people, but a herd confused, 
 A miscellaneous rabble, who extol 
 
 Things vulgar, and, well weigh' d, scarce worth the praise? 
 They praise, and they admire, they know not what, 
 And know not whom, but as one leads the other; 
 And what dolight to be by such extoll'd. 
 To live upon their tongues^ and be their talk, 
 Of whom, to be dispraised, were no small praise ?" 
 
 "Were it not," said the minister, " that Milton was a repub- 
 lican, I should think, from the rhythm and dignity of these 
 verses, that they were of his composition. — Is it an imitation 
 by your lordship?" 
 
 "They are really Milton's," replied the earl; "and these sen- 
 timents he ascribes to the Saviour, in answer to the temptations 
 of Satan, and in his work which he most esteemed — Paradise 
 Regained." 
 
 " If that's the case, they must have been dictated by a peni- 
 tent spirit ; for he would not put any thing in the mouth of the 
 Saviour that he did not believe nor venerate," said our hero. 
 "He may, in his younger days, have been a republican, like 
 many other clever lads ; but I doubt, with such notions of the 
 instaMlity of popular opinion, he didna depart this life in that 
 delusion." And in saying this, Andrew looked across the tab^^ 
 to Lord Rivcrsdale, who sat in a state of strange pleasure, at 
 hearing it so ingeniously averred, that Milton had probably 
 lived to repent his republican enthusiasm. 
 
 Wylie's remark gave the minister his clue, and with that 
 felicity of exposition which transcended all Greek and Roman 
 fame in oratory, he took, in his most captivating colloquial 
 manner, a general view of the progress of the French Revolu- 
 tion, and dexterously interweaving the suggestions of our hero, 
 witli respect to the continuance of the war, demonstrated to the 
 entire satisfaction of Lord Rivcrsdale, that whatever was the 
 
 i 
 
 Si ' r 7 ilk 
 
 f^ ' il 
 
860 
 
 SIR ANDREW WYLIE. 
 
 opinion of the opponents of government as to the origin of the 
 war on the part of England, the apostac-y of France from 
 her own principles had been so decided in its character, so 
 violent in its eflPects, and had carried her so far, or-as Mr 
 Burke said of that emigration of opinions which characterize 
 the new^higs-had so transported her beyond Aurora and 
 the Ganges, that England, merely by remaining stationary in 
 her principles, was evidently become the champion of whatever 
 existed in the world, of liberty, of ord^r, and of honour. 
 
 The effect of this exposition was irresistible on the waverino- 
 rnind of Riversdale, and, when parliament met, the prophecy o°f 
 \^ylie was in the main part fulfilled. His lordship was called 
 up to the peers by summons; and though he did not move the 
 address, yet he took his place on the ministerial side of the 
 House, without exciting the slightest observation. His old 
 friends had, indeed, been accustomed for years to consider him 
 as entirely alienated from their party, or rather as having never 
 joined It ; while the members of his father's side, regarded his 
 accession as the natural result of the hereditary politics of the 
 family. Much, therefore, as the Marquis of Avonside esteemed 
 our hero, for the part he had taken in the reconciliation of 
 I.ord and Lady Sandyford, he regarded the conversion of hU 
 son as conferring a far greater obligation, especially when the 
 minister informed his lordship, tliat he considered it to have 
 been effected by the singular shrewdness with which Wylie Ind 
 thrown out the hints that had enabled himself to speak wi'th 
 so much effect to the undecided dispositions of the viscount 
 
 CHAPTER LXXXir. 
 
 V "' 
 
 m 
 
 THE DisctosnnE. 
 
 FoRTUNK poured her cornucopia so liberally around our hero, 
 that honours and riches seemed to lie at his acceptance ; for 
 although no particular appearance of patronage was shown to 
 
CHAPTER LXXXII. — THE DISCLOSURE. 
 
 361 
 
 he orig-in of the 
 of France from 
 Is character, so 
 far, or — as ]Mr 
 ich characterize 
 ml Aurora and 
 ig" stationary in 
 ion of whatever 
 honour. 
 
 )n the wavcrinff 
 the prophecy of 
 siiip was called 
 d not move the 
 •iul side of the 
 tion. His old 
 o consider him 
 IS having never 
 e, regarded his 
 ■ politics of the 
 nside esteemed 
 conciliation of 
 iversion of his 
 ■ially when the 
 red it to have 
 ich VVylie had 
 to speak with 
 e viscount. 
 
 und our hero, 
 ceptancc ; for 
 vas shown to 
 
 himse on the part of Lord and Lady Sandyford, still they both 
 felt themselves so much his debtors, that the powerful influence 
 of their respective relations and connexions was unweariedly 
 exerted to promote his advancement. They often, however, 
 remarked to each other, that there was something about him 
 which could not be easily explained. The earl hud at one time 
 imagined that his rigid frugality was dictated by a sordid desire 
 of riches ; but the warmth of feeling which he had shown on so 
 manyditterent occasions, had long obliterated every relic of that 
 opinion ; and he saw that VVylie could not only be liberal, but 
 even more — munificent. Once or twice it occurred to his lord- 
 ship, that there was a degree of system in the simplicity of his 
 manners, strangely at variance with his vanity in cultivating 
 the acquaintance of persons of rank and fashion. 
 
 " I have an idea," said he, in speaking on the subject one day 
 to the countess, " to confer on him what I think he will esteem 
 an honour ; for it appears to me, that he attaches more value to 
 those things which give him personal consequence than to any 
 sort of pecuniary favours." 
 
 What his lordship meant was not then explained ; but some 
 time after, when the countess had presented him with an heir, 
 li<3 declared his intention to nominate Wylic one of the sponsors. 
 " For," said the earl, " as we have no chance of getting a fairy 
 novv-ii-days, I do not think we shall be able to do better." 
 
 The countess smiled, and said gravely, " I shall rejoice to 
 obtain so honest a friend for our dear boy, and pledged to be his 
 Wend by the sacred obligation of the baptismal vows ; but if 
 Wylie is a presbyterian, I fear, from the integrity of his charac- 
 ter, that he will decline your offer." 
 
 At this juncture of the conversation, the Duchess of Dashing- 
 well happened to call, and, on the subject being mentioned, her 
 grace said, " Like Lord Sandyford, I, too, have remarked, that 
 beneath his simplicity, he has not only the slyness of a fox, but 
 the ambition of an ancient personage, too shocking to be named 
 to ears polite." 
 
 " Sometimes," interposed the countess, " it has occurred to 
 me, when I have observed the inditference with which he 
 
 ..r 
 
 ? 1 
 
362 
 
 SIB ANDREW WYLIE. 
 
 Wm 
 
 regarded our female friends, that he had formed some secret 
 attachment." 
 
 " Your ladyship," cried the duchess, " has hit the right mark. 
 I do now remember something of the sort ; and the wizard of a 
 creature had the power not only to make me his confidant, but 
 by some irresistible spell to constrain me to become his advocate. 
 I do not well recollect what enstied, or how the matter ended ; but 
 I have at this moment in my mind's eye a beautiful Scottish girl 
 at one of my assemblies, leaning on the arm of an old maiden 
 aunt, who had a neck like a bundle of baraboo-canes. I forget 
 their names, and all ot^er circumstaiicos — Bless me! what a 
 memory I have !-i-B'it Wylie was up to the ears in love with 
 the niece— I think he said from childhood. We must put him 
 to the question on the subject." 
 
 While her grace was thus rattling away with her wonted 
 good-humour, the earl and countess exchanged expressive glances, 
 Neither of them were inclined to explain before the duchess 
 what was passing in their minds ; but when she had retired, his 
 lordship exclaimed, " The Duchess of Dashingwell is certainly 
 as arrant a chattel as ever constituted any part of household 
 furniture. But a bright flake or two of observation fell from 
 her in this last shower of talk, that has thrown some new light 
 onWylie's conduct. If it be true that he was in love some 
 years ago, I would bet ten to one we shall discover some equally 
 wise and romantic motive at the bottom of the principles by 
 which he has been so long and so constantly actuated. But we 
 must treat him warily." 
 
 While our hero was thus the subject of conversation, he was 
 announced ; and after the first salutations were over, and while 
 he was admiring the infant in the lap of its mother, the carl 
 said to him, " Wylie, will you have any objection to stand god- 
 father to the little fellow ?" 
 
 " I doubt," replied Andrew, " it's no in my power. I am no 
 sure of the nature of gwlfathcra and go.^ mothers. But ye 
 shouldna think that I thereby cast any reflection either on them 
 or the other prelatic doxies of the English. But though I can- 
 not accept the great honour your lordship has propounded, 
 
CHAPTER LXXXII. THE DISCLOSURE. 
 
 363 
 
 rmed some secret 
 
 T power. I am no 
 
 ffude forgive me if I say, that sponsors are forbidden in the ten 
 commands." 
 
 The earl looked and smiled to Lady Sandyford, and then said, 
 in his most generous manner, " This rigid principle teaches me 
 to respect you more than ever ; and I now suspect, Wylie, that 
 the state of self-denial in which you live has its foundation in 
 some nobler motive than I have yet been able to discover. I 
 have never heard you speak of your family, nor have you once 
 asked my interest in behalf of any friend." 
 
 Andrew blushed slightly at this remark, and said, " 1 have no 
 friends to fash your lordship about." 
 
 " But," resumed the earl, in a gayer tone, " the Duchess of 
 Dashingwell, who was here this morning, has been telling us, 
 that she recollects something of your being in love several 
 
 years ago." 
 
 The confusion with which our hero looked, left no doubt in 
 the mind of the earl of the fact ; and he was on the point of 
 saying in banter, " Have you been slighted?" when, suddenly 
 recollecting the humility of the condition from which he had 
 himself raised him, he cheeked the levity of his manner, and 
 said affectionately, " If there are any circumstances in your 
 attachment that our influence can improve or change, why do 
 you not explain yourself? Lady '^'iindyford and myself owe you 
 a debt which we can never ado(iuately repay. You should add 
 to your other kindnessr",, the favour of letting us know in what 
 manner we can contributti to your happiness." 
 
 Our hero felt that ho had now at last attained the summit, for 
 whicli tie had so long and so perseveringly struggled. Without 
 hereditary connexions— without the advantages of education— 
 and without the possession of any of that splendour of talent^ 
 which is deemiMi so essential to success in the path of honour- 
 able distinction, he had accpiired a degree of personal conseciuence 
 that placed him on a level with Mary Cunningham : and for 
 the first time, not only to any friend, but also to himself, did he 
 avow the force of that attachment, which, in the earnest pursuit 
 of the means to indulge and to dignify, he had scarcely allowed 
 himself to cherish, even while it constituted the actuating prin- 
 ciple of his life. Lord and Lady Sandyfijrd admired the delicacy 
 
 m 
 
mm 
 
 364 
 
 Sia ANDREW WYLIE. 
 
 ■with which he acknowledged the secret motive of his preference 
 for the society of the elegant and the noble, when he described 
 the lowliness of his own original condition, contrasted with the 
 rank of the Craiglands family. "But now," said he, " if you 
 will complete the work, which, unknown to yourselves, you 
 have patronized so long, I would fain beg of you to lend your 
 countenance to gain for me some portion of that consideration 
 among my old friends, which neither money nor manners can 
 command. In short, my lord and ledd}', by the blessing of 
 heaven, through your instrumentality, I am now in a condition 
 to make proposals to Miss Cunnir.gham ; but she belongs to an 
 ancient fiimily, and beforehand I would like to satisfy both her 
 and her friends, that I do not presume altogether on the weight 
 of my purse, to think myself no disparagement to their pride 
 and antiquity. But there's another thing — it's no my design 
 to make any proposals to her, if I think that either the world's 
 pelf or patronage would alone rule her to accept mo." 
 
 " That," said tlie earl, " is really carrying your refinement a 
 little too far. How are you to discover that she is to be won 
 bj' any purer influence ? Have you any reascu tu believe that 
 the attachment is mutual ?" 
 
 " ril no be so self-conceited as to say," replied Wylie ; " but 
 we have had some coUcagning logcther, which, if remembered 
 in the spirit of kindness, will be quite satisfactory to me." 
 
 And he then recounted those incidents of his early history 
 which wo have so circumstantially described ; but with so 
 much more wit and humour, that both his lordship and the 
 countess wore ready to expire with laughter ; and declared 
 that, as soon as Lord Chastington was christened, they Avould 
 accompany him to Scotland, for tlie express purpose of being; 
 introduced to the worthies of the Craiglands and Stoneyholm. 
 
CHAPTEE LXXXiil. INTENTIONS. 
 
 365 
 
 CHAPTER LXXXIII. 
 
 INTENTIONS. 
 
 The Countess of Sandyford, after the important disclosure 
 described in the preceding chapter, reflected with an anxiety to 
 which gratitude lent a sentiment of affection, on every means 
 to facilitate the attainment of our hero's object. And, among 
 others, it occurred to her that if a baronetcy could be procured 
 for him, it would give a stamp and permanency to his elevation, 
 that could not fail to produce great effects on the hereditary 
 prejudices of the Cunninghams. But there were in this many 
 difficulties ; for the delicacy of the earl, with respect to political 
 favours, would not allow him to move in the business; she even 
 feiired that it might induce him to interdict her from seeking 
 the honour through any other channel, although that of her 
 father presented one easy and obvious. Still, so great was her 
 solicitude on this subject, that she could not help saying one 
 day, as they were talking together of their intended journey 
 to Scotland, " I think it would be a great feather in Wylie's 
 cap if my father would only take it into his head to obtain for 
 him a baronetcy." 
 
 " That I have no doubt his lordship will do, on the slightest 
 hint, were Wylie once provided with an adequate estate; it 
 would undoubtedly be of consf^quence to him as a lover." 
 
 " I have a great mind to speak to my father. Do you think 
 I may do so ?" said the countess shrewdly. 
 
 "0 yes!" exclaimed the earl; "I'll speak to him myself; 
 for, as I am now done with all political questions, i feel no im- 
 propriety on the subject." 
 
 His lordship then explained to her, that, in consequence of 
 Wyhe's advice, he had resolved to devote his life to promote the 
 happiness and prosperity of his own tenantry, ; the best way 
 of serving his country; being fully convinced, that, although 
 perhaps able to make some figure in public life, he was not fit 
 to take any commanding station, and a subordinate neither his 
 rank nor his feelings would allow him to accept. The coun- 
 
366 
 
 SIR ANDUEW WYLIE. 
 
 tess, who had also heen taught by cxper?ence that he was in- 
 deed too eager and sensitive to bear those quips and scorns of 
 the time to which statesmen are exposed, considered the part 
 which Wyhe had taken, in promoting tliis judicious determina- 
 tion, as not one of the least obligations which he had laid them 
 under. And she said, " I wish that you could persuade him to 
 make a purchase in our neighbourhood. Castle-Rooksborough 
 is still for sale. It has many claims on our remembrance. 
 There I performed the first purely benevolent action of my life 
 —in taking the child of the unhappy Ferrers under my protec- 
 tion ; and from that day, and on that spot, began the series of 
 events, which, however troubled at first, have brought us such 
 mutual happiness." 
 
 The earl embraced her with emotion, and said, "It is a place 
 I shall ever love, and it will grow still more dear to me, if we 
 can induce our friend to take up his residence there; for I 
 suspect that, were he married to Miss Cunninpliam, he will not 
 long remain a Londoner. I fear, however, that he will prefer 
 Scotland. But let us make the trial." 
 
 Accordingly, the earl, soon after this conversation, spoke to 
 our hero, and urged him to buy Castle-Rooksborough. " If 
 you have not money enough," said his lordship, "as my incum- 
 brances are now nearly paid off, it may be easily managed." 
 ^ The mind of our hero had never contemplated any acquisi- 
 tion so magnificent. In the most sanguine of his reveries he 
 had never looked much beyond the dignity' of an ordinary Ap- 
 shire laird; and in reply to the earl, he said, "I'm thinking, my 
 lord, that ye give me credit for higher pretensions than I ever 
 entertained ; and I have already provided myself with a bit 
 ground in the x\orth. The late Laird o' Wylie gaed last year 
 a' to pigs and whistles, and the property being for sale, I 
 directed an acquaintance in Edinburgh, Mr Threeper, who' is 
 an advocate there, to attend the roup, by the which, as he 
 writes me this morning, I am now the Wylie of that Ilk." 
 
 "But," said the earl, with a feeling of disappointment, "you 
 may buy Castle-Rooksborough too." 
 
 "It's far from my hand," was the reply. 
 , " Then I'll tell you what, assist me to raise the money, and I'll 
 
2 that he was in- 
 lips and scorns of 
 nsidered the part 
 licious determina- 
 he had laid them 
 1 persuade him to 
 tle-Rooksborough 
 ur remembrance. 
 t action of my hfe 
 under my protec- 
 }gan the series of 
 ! brought us such 
 
 lid, " It is a place 
 dear to me, if we 
 fnce there; for I 
 ?ham, he will not 
 lat he will prefer 
 
 jrsation, spoke to 
 ksborough. " If 
 », "as my incum- 
 ly managed." 
 ited any acquisi- 
 f his reveries he 
 m ordinary Ajt- 
 ['m thinking, my 
 sions than I ever 
 yself with a bit 
 ie gaed lust year 
 leing for sale, I 
 rhreeper, who is 
 he which, as he 
 f that Ilk." 
 pointment, "you 
 
 e money, and 111 
 
 CHAPTER LXXXin. — INTENTIONS. 
 
 367 
 
 buy Castle-Rooksborough. The price will not reduce my 
 income half so low as it was when I first retired to Chastington 
 Hall. I have had no means of gratifying Lady Sandyford in 
 any wish before, and she has taken a fancy to that place; but 
 she would be content were you the purchaser. Perhaps, if vou 
 prove a thriving wooer, we might get you, in neigli' urliness, 
 to reside occasionally there." 
 
 Our hero, when the earl adverted to the effect whicii the pur- 
 chase would have on his own income, made a slight convulsive 
 movement, for he perceived that his lordship had resolved to h\\ 
 the estate, not so much to gratify the countess, as with a view 
 of giving it to him; but he took no notice of ^ hat he suspected, 
 observing only, that no doubt his lordship might now easily 
 raise the money; adding, however, in a way which convinced 
 thoearl that his intention was discovered, "Nor, my lord, will 
 it be any great loss, for the rental of Castle-Rooksborough will 
 no make the bargain all dead loss. I will, however, be plain 
 with your lordship. Within myself I feel that were the object 
 of my ambition attained, or found impossible to gain, I shall 
 then have but small cause to continue in this part of the coun- 
 try, for I have ever looked to taking my rest among the scenes 
 of my young days; for still, in my thought, the mornings there 
 are brighter than those I have seen in any other place— the 
 evenings far grander, and the nights thicker set with stars. It 
 is but a boy's fancy; but to me, in all my prosperity, it has been 
 like the shepherd's clothes of the honest man that was made a 
 vizier, as I have read in a book called the Pleasing Instructor. 
 I have treasured it in ray heart, where others hoard their 
 dearest wishes, and I could never part with it now, without for- 
 getting myself. However, come what come may out of our 
 journey to Scotland, I'll pay your lordship a yearly visitation, 
 just an it wre for no more than to keep me in remembrance of 
 the humble state from whicli you have raised me." 
 
 Lord Sandyford was so much affected by the sensibility with 
 which this was said, that he pressed the hand of Wylie, and 
 retired without speaking. 
 
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368 
 
 8IR ANDREW WYLIB 
 
 CHAPTER LXXXIV. 
 
 THE BARONETCY. 
 
 Ik the mean time, the countess, intent to procure the honour 
 
 of a baTon^tcy for her friend, had been closeted ^vith her fa he , 
 
 he m"on the subject. She was well aware of h.s lord- 
 
 wTpecuUarities; and knew that, if she immed.ately reciueste 
 
 hta to ask the tille, he would, ^n all probability have ra.se 
 
 ^rny ohiections, and probably in the end refused. A worn 
 
 riddre s, and now awakened to the consciousness of all her 
 
 ic^dant faculties, she attacked his lordship in the most effoc- 
 
 Tal manner. Before broaching the subject, she enquired ho« 
 
 her bother Lord Riversdale, seemed to feel under the honours 
 
 S the ie a^^^^^ and when her father assured her that he pro- 
 
 Jist^ to be aVeat accession to the ministerial phalanx, althoug 
 
 he had not then taken any prominent part m debate, she o • 
 
 served that they were all under the greatest obligations to Mr 
 
 ^"y"s" replied the old peer; "in him the minister tells me I 
 have dLn a capital prize; for his shrewdness in committees . 
 worth all the noisy talents of the debaters. , , , , . 
 
 "I told not be surprised were the minister to detach hu. 
 f J «:; lordship, and make him his own," ^^^^^ 
 
 » That is not likely," answered the marquis of Avonside , r 
 he kn ws tha^ hy bdng my member, Mr Wylie is as efrec^allj 
 bU own as if he were returned on a pure Treasury interest 
 '"uTcann rven affect to controvert your lordship's opinjon 
 «n such subiects," said the countess; "but it occurs to me tl i 
 
 I'e deXus lo att/eh him exclusively to them^elves^^^^^^^^^^^^^ 
 should not be surprised were they to charm him mto their circL 
 
 by the offer of a baronetcy." ^ .houo-htfnllv. "that 
 
 "1 do not suppose, rcpucti the inarq.n.- .nju u- ,. ^^ 
 Wvlie can already expect to be raised so soon to that rank 
 ""rit is impossible," rejoined the countess, " to say wha . 
 the expectations of ambitious men: and when we reflect on the 
 
CHAFTEE LXXXIV.— THE BARONETCT. 
 
 369 
 
 history of Wylie, it is not to be disputed that he is ambitious, 
 from whatever cause the passion may have sprung. 
 
 » You surprise me, Augusta," said her father ; it would be 
 a most ungrateful thing were Wylie to throw the weight of his 
 gTt talents into any other scale. He surely cannot forget 
 what I have done for him." 
 
 "True" replied the countess; "I do not think he will forget ■ 
 that; buJ then he may place opposite to your favours-observe 
 low ver, my lord, that I do not myself think so-he may place 
 osite'to (hem the obligations he conferred in b-gJ^^bo"t 
 
 Jv reunion with Sandyford, and ««Pf ^^"^^'t "^p ' Imns 
 which he made a proselyte of my brother Riversdale. Perhaps 
 Terefore it might be as well-probably your lordship has 
 ll^rforld sine plan on the subiect-to raise him at once 
 above the effects of ministerial influence, by procurmg him a 
 
 'TeSnly, Lady Sandyford, I did think some time or another 
 
 of using my influence for that purpose, but not exactly in the 
 
 course of the first session of his parliamentary career But 
 
 on sderiLg the sensation he has produced in the highest quar^ 
 
 r I d nl think it would be a bad stroke of policy were I 
 
 at once to rivet him to me for ever, by obtaining for him a 
 
 ^'"Twould," replied the countess, " induce t.e world, and 
 
 particularly political men, to wonder more and more at the grea 
 
 efficacy of your lordship's predominant influence. Besides, 1 
 
 SVabove all things, to have it in my P"-r o ajldress 
 
 Mr Wylie by the title of Sir Andrew; for you are aware, my 
 
 ord, that aUhough yourself and Sandyford have -t ^^^^^^^ 
 
 ably rewarded his heartfelt friendship to us, that as yet I have 
 
 had no means of showing him any gratitude; and, therefo.e, 
 
 we it Tt all consistent with your lordship s pubhc views to 
 
 7oJe\ baronetcy for him, I would ask it as a favour to 
 
 "^' R^Iuv \u-u=tn, you are so very considerate, that I should 
 aW t'jempted to gratify y- i" this, even were the policy 
 of my family in some degree opnosed to it. But se ing the 
 likelihood of the ministers trying to enlist our httle fnend 
 3. "" 
 
870 
 
 SIR ANDREW WYLIE. 
 
 entirely to themselves, I cannot serve my public and private 
 interests better than by taking measures to obtain for Wylie the 
 rank to which you allude." 
 
 The same day the marquis sent for Sir Charles Runnington 
 on the subject, and instructed him to proceed in the proper 
 manner to obtain the consent in the proper quarter to a baron- 
 etcy for our hero. 
 
 Sir Charles, as we have long ago stated, was a diplomatic 
 character in the interest of the marquis ; and in the most strict 
 sequence to his instructions, he proceeded, step by step, to agitate 
 the question, and to, solicit the honour. In this business he had 
 occasion to ask an audience of the premier; and on stating 
 the object of his visit, that great man said at once, promptly 
 'Is it possible, Sir Charles, that Mr Wylie himself can desire 
 such a thing?" 
 
 "It will doubtless be gratifying him to receive the honour," 
 replied Sir Charles, with a simper meant to be expres^ve 
 
 "Very well, he shall have it," exclaimed the minister; « but 
 I thought a man of his sense would never have aspired to any 
 empty title; but, neverthelcos, he shall have it. I always feel 
 a particular gratification in obliging my noble frie-'' the Marquis 
 of Avons:de ; indeed his lordship's claims on go lent are of 
 
 the first class, and it is not so much my desire, u. , is my duty 
 to satisfy all his reasonable wishes." 
 
 Sir Charles was delighted with the success of this his only 
 successful mission ; and the marquis felt singularly obliged that 
 the request was conceded, not only on account of his own public 
 services, but in so handsome a manner, that the minister had 
 never once enquired whether his protegg was in possession of 
 an adequate estate to uphold the dignity of the honour. Thus 
 to the surprise of our hero, and of all his friends but those in thJ 
 secret, he was, on the following Saturday night, gazetted a 
 baronet, by the style and title of Sir Andrew Wylie, Baronet of 
 Wyhe, which, for the benefit of our English readers, we should 
 add IS,, n the good legal language of the north, Sir Andrew 
 Wyhe, Baronet, of that Ilk, or of the same. 
 
CHAI»TEE LXXXV. — THE RETURN. 
 
 371 
 
 CHAPTER LXXXV. 
 
 THE RETURK. 
 
 When the necessary preliminaries were arranged for the 
 journey to Scotland, the earl and countess, with Sir Andrew, 
 set off in the same carriage. It was the intention of Lord and 
 Lady Sandyford to visit Sir Archibald and Lady Margaret 
 Maybole at their seat of Auchinward, in Ayrshire, ostensibly in 
 fulfilment of a promise which the countess had long made to 
 her ladyship, who had been one of her mother's most particular 
 and esteemed friends ; but really, as the earl said, to make from 
 that stronghold of generous feelings and aflFections, reprisals on 
 the pride and prejudices of tb 3 Craiglands. 
 
 We shall not trouble our readers with any account of their 
 journey, which was performed with all convenient expedition 
 till the travellers reached Kilmarnock, where they separated — 
 the earl and countess proceeding to Auchinward. Sir Andrew 
 lingered some time at the inn, in order to throw his arrival at 
 Stoneyholm late in the evening, and partly to inspect the re- 
 edification of the town, which had been accomplished during his 
 absence from Scotland ; and as he walked from Brian's Inn to 
 the cross, he felt something like sorrow to see that the place 
 which the stands of the sweetie-wives used to adorn on the fair 
 days, when he visited the town in company with Charles Piers- 
 ton, was obliterated ; a spacious and handsome street rendered it 
 difficult to recognize the old houses which still remained in the 
 neighbourhood. The improvements appeared to him like the 
 changes produced by time and climate on the face of an early 
 friend, when seen after an interval of many years; and although 
 they bore testimony to the prosperity of his native land, they 
 were yet, to his feelings, but as tombstones erected over the 
 remains of ancient simplicity, and the venerable manners of the 
 olden time. 
 
 Having returned to the inn, he ordered a chaise for Kilwin- 
 ning, as he intended to walk from thence to Stoneyholm. Why 
 he should not at once have proceeded to his grandmother's, 
 
VA 
 
 372 
 
 SIK ANDREW WYLIE. 
 
 *ii! 
 
 would require more metaphysics to explain than the reader who 
 stands in need of an explanation could comprehend. Possibly it 
 may have originated in some wish to contemplate at leisure the 
 scenes of his youth, or to enjoy the balmy freshness of the sum- 
 mer evening, or in some token of humility or silent expression 
 of thankfulness for the happy circumstances in which he had 
 been permitted to return; or perhaps, from a sentiment of affec- 
 tion towards less fortunate friends, he was averse to obtrude 
 upon their view any indication of the prosperity which had 
 crowned his. adventures. Be this, however, as it may, he pro- 
 ceeded to Kilwinning. 
 
 It was a beautiful evening: the sun set in all his glory beyond 
 the hills of Arran; and the peak and summits of Goatfield, 
 covered with a fine aerial haze, glowed, as it were, with an 
 internal principle of splendour. The sea in the bay of Ayr lay 
 like molten gold, and Ailsa rose empurpled in the distance like 
 a magnificent amethyst; while the whole coast, from the towers 
 of Culzeen to the promontory of A-drossan, glittered with towns 
 and villages, and the seats of many, who, like our hero, had re- 
 turned home to enjoy the fruits of their prosperous adventures. 
 Every thing in the spacious view was calculated to calm the 
 mind and expand the feelings. The summer was clothed in her 
 richest verdure of luxuriant fields and leafy boughs; the stream- 
 lets flowed in clearer currents; and the colours of the broom 
 and the daisy were unwontedly bright; the birds in the hedge- 
 rows seemed rather to hold a gentle and harmonious interchange 
 of occasional notes, than to indulge in their own peculiar songs; 
 even the crows, as they made way to the rooky woods, hovered 
 in their flight, as if they partook of the general composure of all 
 nature; and the angler, returning home, lingered in his path, 
 and frequently paused to admire the flakes of fleecy gold that 
 floated over the setting sun. 
 
 There are but two situations in which the adventurer, return- 
 ing home, can duly appreciate the delightful influences of such 
 an hour of holiness, and beauty, and rest. Tlie one, when he is 
 retreating from an unsuccessful contest with fortune— when, 
 bafiled and mortified by the effects either of his integrity or of 
 his friendlessness, he abandons the struggle, and retires to his 
 
CHAPTEK LXXXV. — THE RETURN. 
 
 373 
 
 native shades as to the embraces of a parent, to be lulled by the 
 sounds that were dear to his cliildhood, and which he fondly 
 hopes will appease his sorrows, and soothe him asleep for ever; 
 — the other, when, like our liero, conscious of having achieved 
 the object of his endeavours, he comes with an honest pride to 
 enjoy that superiority over his early companions, which, after 
 all the glosses that may be put upon the feeling, is really the 
 only reward of an adventurous spirit. Both prompt to the same 
 conduct; but the maimed, and the luckless, and the humiliated, 
 shrink from the view, shivering with grief as they remember the 
 
 thick and blushing promises of their spring, and contrast them with 
 the sear and yellow leaf of their withered and fruitless autumn. 
 By the time Sir Andrew reached Kilwinning, the village fires 
 and the stars were shining out; and the full moon, which had 
 risen over the shadowy masses of the woods of Eglinton, tinted 
 the leaves of the hedges and the ripplings of the Garnock water 
 with a flickering and silvery light. 
 
 Our here as he walked to Stoneyholm, recognized every step 
 of the road which he had so often travelled; but it seemed to 
 him that all things, as he approached the hamlet, had become 
 smaller and meaner; the trees appeared stunted, the hedges 
 more rude and irregular, and the distance between each well- 
 known object greatly abridged. 
 
 He passed several cottages, with the inhabitants of which he 
 had formerly been intimate, but a strange restraint prevented 
 him from entering any of them. The turnpike-house had been 
 one of his favourite haunts, and he had made up his mind to go 
 in; but before tapping at the door, he glanced in at the window, 
 and saw, assembled round the fire, a numerous family, compre- 
 hending a member from all the seven ages of man, but not one 
 face of an old acquaintance. 
 
 The trust of the gate was now in the hands of strangers, and 
 this mutation made him feel a disappointment, gentle of its kind, 
 but melancholy : and he went forward in the dark shadow of 
 tile hedges, pondering on a thousand little incidents that had 
 long slept in his remembrance, but which the sight of old and 
 - ndeared objects, in the shroudy paleness of the moonlight, recaUed 
 us with the sadness and solemnity of churchyard recollections. 
 
374 
 
 SIE ANDREW WYLIE. 
 
 At a turn of the road, where the hedge on the one side termi- 
 nated, and the river was seen open and glittering, as it murmured 
 in its shallow and pebbly channel, he obtained the first view of 
 Stoneyholm, beyond which the groves of the Craiglands lay 
 dark and massive ; several lights showed where the mansion- 
 house stood ; and the tall white chimneys above the trees appeared 
 to him like the sails of a vessel that lay sunk in deep and silent 
 waters. 
 
 But the grave and pensive mood in which he thus approached 
 his early home, he was soon sensible ought not to be indulged ; 
 and, making an effort to quicken his step and lighten his spirit, 
 he walked briskly tb the door of his grandmother's cottage. 
 His intention was to enter suddenly, to enjoy the exclamations 
 of her joyous surprise ; but in passing the window towards tlie 
 door, he heard some one within speaking, and paused irresolute; 
 he listened, and thonght that tlie accents of the voice were 
 familiar : tliey recalled to his mind, with the distinctness of 
 more than painting, all the most remarkable passages of his 
 boyish years ; the amusements he had enjoyed with companions, 
 dead, or scattered, or chained by fortune to rustic drudgery ; 
 even the image of poor Maggy, the magpie, came up in the 
 visions of that dream of fond remembrance ; and trains of feel- 
 ings and associations were awakened, that filled his eyes with 
 tears ; for the voice was that of the worthy Tannyhill, then 
 sitting with his grandmother, penning a letter to himself, in 
 which she earnestly entreated, now that he was become a great 
 and grand man, to let her see him before she died. With a 
 merry hand, and a beating heart, he tirled at the pin ; and as the 
 schoolmaster admitted him, he went forward into the light before 
 old Martha was aware. But we leave tlie reader to imagine 
 what ensued, while we refrain, in leverence, from presuming to 
 describe the joy and the piety of that hallowed scene. 
 
CHAPTER LXXXVI. — THE CHURCH. 
 
 375 
 
 CHAPTER LXXX I. 
 
 THE CHURCH, 
 
 The next day being Sunday, Sir Andrew took an early walk 
 in Ins former favourite haunts, among the woods of the Craig- 
 laiul« and returned to his grandmother's cottage without having 
 met any of his early friends. While they were at breakfast, 
 which consisted of the same homely fare that he had been accus- 
 tomed to in his youth, the master called for the purpose of invit- 
 int- him to walk to church with him. That modest and gentle 
 being still seemed to regard him as the same curious boy that 
 he had so long before known him ; nor was there any thing in 
 the demeanour of our hero, during the interview of the preceding 
 evening, to make him suspect that riches and honours had in 
 aught changed the simplicity of his original character. 
 
 Sir Andrew, however, declined the invitation. "I canna gae 
 wi' you the day, master," said he; "for grannie will expect me 
 to cleek wi' her, and aiblins to carry her big Testament, as of 
 old, tied in a napkin under my oxter." 
 
 There was a little waggery in the manner in which this was 
 expressed, but of so moderate a kind, that it might have passed 
 for sincerity. Tie had, indeed, resolved in his own mind to 
 resume his fora'er familiarity, as well as the broad accent of his 
 boyish dialect; not that the latter required any effort, for he had 
 carefully and constantly preserved it, but he had unconsciously 
 adopted a few terms and phrases purely English; and in the 
 necessity of speaking intelligibly to his clients and fashionable 
 friends, had habitually acquired, without any of the southern 
 tone, considerable purity of language. The characteristic answer 
 of his grandmother, however, set the matter at rest. 
 
 "No," replied Martha, "though I'll hae great pride and plea- 
 sure in seeing you, Andrew, walking at my side to the house of 
 Ilim that has preserved you in the hollow of his hand, and m 
 the skirts of his garment, as the shepherd tenderly does the help- 
 less lamb, I mauana forget that ye're noo a man whom the 
 king delighted to honour, and that it's baith my part, as a 
 
376 
 
 SIR ANDHEW MYLIE. 
 
 own emotion. ' ''"^ '^'^ ^^^P°"«^^« ^^n^Pathy of his 
 
 the inhabitants were assembld In .» f^ ? '" ""^ "'^"^ ^^ 
 he was seen coming u^. the "h w'H m '^^ ' ^"'^ "^en 
 and the master on Lm l^J^tj ^^"''^' "" ^'' "'^^^ 
 the spectators, showed the int^n / i ^'''''"^ ^"'"^^'•'^ ^'"""^ 
 old people obse ved wi h a ] r' '"l"^"^^' ^'^^ «^«ited. Thf 
 himfthat he was dtrsed mulh'^ ""/''"-^"^ kindness towards 
 left them; but the/brameS '? ,VT '*^^^ ^' ^^'^ he 
 and some of the Ime Lf tt" ",?''''"' ^^ '^ '^PP^'-^hed, 
 respectfully took oifTh i t'ts at " '' ^^'""^ "^''^ '""^ 
 as he looked around, and feU asl he""""' ^'""^^"" ^'"^^^'^ 
 honours of a triumph Bu Sir A H u- ^""''^''P^^'^^S in the 
 sedately cheerful, and sZokLtfT^T'^''^^'^''^"^-'^ 
 acquaintance; and L those JT "'^^ ""''^ '" ^'^ «^^ 
 
 humour, he said somthbrblirhe/r'"'' ^^"^ P'^^'^"^"'^ «f 
 how perfectly he rememS tm J^^^^^^^ ^^J«^ ^^«-^ 
 
 ::trtr^rsS:sr^^^^--^t^^^^^ 
 
 foramLent,aJ;;:;otett:e:^^^^^^^^^^^^ "'^ ^''^ P--^ 
 on before him. The crowd pTn-nx ^''^^^mother to pass 
 lowed close at his heels -111!? .^•*^'' school-boys, had fol- 
 some liberal - , . '' '" ^he expectation of seeing him dcn->-;^ 
 "** noeral uonation to the nonr tu^ ^ ^ "opoau 
 
 less than a handful of ^old nnTv .1 ^ '''^"""'^ °" ""thing 
 
CHAPTEB LXXXVI.— THE CHURCH. 377 
 
 himself, and instead of throwing any thing into the plate, gave 
 the elder a shp of paper, to be sent up to the precentor, and 
 s.mpy said to h,m, "Mr Covenant, I'm no just so weel pre- 
 pared at this moment to do what I ought, so ye'll eome to me 
 the morns morning betimes, when I can better testify my 
 thankfulness for being restored in safety among you;" and in 
 saymg these words, he wallced thoughtfully to the pew where 
 his grandmother sat, and took his old place at her side. 
 
 The church was unusually crowded, and all eyes, till the 
 minister entered the pulpit, were turned towards him, as he sat 
 looking on the reading-board, and tracing his still unobliterated 
 init-uls, and the outlines of birds and houses, which, in the 
 languor of Mr Dozadeal's discourses, he had formerly inscribed 
 with a pm, to the great displeasure of his grandmother. 
 
 When Mr Symington, who had succeeded Dr Dozadcal in the 
 ministry, after the doctor's call to the better stipend of Bun- 
 noekhive rose to give out the psalm. Sir Andrew, startled by 
 lie sound of the new voice, was roused from his reverie, and 
 folt for a moment as if all the incidents of his life, from the time 
 he had last sat in the church, were the impalpable fancies of 
 one of his youthful dreams; and this feeling, when the vener- 
 able divme read out the two first lines of the thirtieth psalm, 
 "Lord, I will thee extol, for thou 
 Hast lifted me on high," 
 
 one of those which he had repeated to Mary Cunningham, made 
 him involuntarily turn his eye up towards the laird's loft, where 
 it again met for a moment the same bright ar^ smiling orb that 
 he had so often seen sparkling in the same b -.] -e. 
 
 Mr Symington possessed more of the pastoral virtues of his 
 office than his predecessor, but he was neither an eloquent nor 
 an interesting preacher, nor was his subject calculated that day 
 to attract the attention of our hero: so that, after the openino- 
 of the sermon, Sir Andrew began to look around him, and to 
 discover, with a mingled sentiment of pleasure and sorrow 
 many faces that ho distinctly recollected; all of them, however! 
 had suffered from the withering breath of Time. There were 
 one or two young girls that still seemed as fresh and bloomino- 
 as ever; but upon a sharper inspection, he saw they were 
 
strangers to him, and in the altered looks of the matrons who 
 sat beside them, he recognized the mothers for whom he had at 
 first mistulcen the daughters. 
 
 A cold and penetrating sentiment of grief quivered through 
 his bosom, when in several instances he with difficulty made 
 out in countenances, depressed, it might almost be said depraved, 
 with premature age, the effects of heavy toil and constant labour, 
 the faces of old school-fellows, whom he recollected among the 
 boldest and the blithest of all his young companions. But tiiis 
 painful feeling received some alleviation, in seeing that tlie 
 elder worthies of the claclian still seemed to retain their former 
 ^e^pcctability; and that, upon the whole, there was a visible im- 
 provement in the appearance of the congregation in general. 
 
 At the conclusion of the sermon, Mr Tannyhill, who held the 
 threefold office of schoolmaster, session-clerk, and precentor, 
 rose and read from one paper thfl names of those who, in dis- 
 tress and sickness, desired the prayers of the congregation. 
 He then took up another, which he had folded in his Psalm- 
 book, and with an elevated and cheerful countenance, as ii 
 exulting in the task he was required to perform, said aloud, 
 with an emphatic and triumphant accent, "And Andrew Wjlie 
 returns thanks for his safe return." 
 
 The instant tliese words were pronounced, a universal rustle 
 in the church, followed by a low and kindly whisper, showed the 
 impression which their simplicity made on the congregation: 
 and it was observed that the laird, after looking down at Sir 
 Andrew for about a minute, turned to his si«t«r, and said some- 
 thing which appeared to give her jjleasure ; what Mary Cun- 
 ningham felt on the occasion was not easily guessed ; for she 
 dropped her handkerchief, and stooped to lift it, and when she 
 again stood up, she was so engaged in putting it into her pocket, 
 which she did not exactly find so readily as she appeared to 
 wish, that nobody could see her face. 
 
' the matrons who 
 )r whom he had at 
 
 CHAPTER LX.XXVII. 
 
 quivered tlirough 
 th difficulty made 
 t he said depravd, 
 id constant lahour, 
 )llected among tlie 
 lanions. But tiiis 
 1 seeinj^ that the 
 'etain their former 
 £ was a visible im- 
 lion in general, 
 yhill, who held the 
 k, and precentor, 
 those who, in dig- 
 the congregation, 
 ed in his Psalm- 
 ountcnance, as i» 
 •form, saitl aloud, 
 nd Andrew W^lie 
 
 a universal rustle 
 lisper, showed the 
 he congregation : 
 :ing down at Sir 
 T, and said some- 
 what Mary Cun- 
 guessed ; for she 
 it, and when she 
 it into her pocket, 
 she appeared to 
 
 THE CUVRrUYAKD. 
 
 When the congregation was dismissed, Sir Andrew left his 
 grandmother, telling her, that, as he wished to speak to some of 
 his old accjuaintance, he would follow her home. Accordingly, 
 hastening out into the churchyard, he took his station exactly 
 on the spot where he was wont to exchange the smile of youth- 
 ful recognizance with Mary Cunningham; and while he was 
 joyfully greeted and welcomed home by every one, whom, in 
 going to church, he had not an opportunity of speaking to, his 
 eye was restlessly turned towards the door, from which in due 
 time the laird. Miss Mizy, and jNIary, made their appearance. 
 
 Time had now laid so many years on the shoulders of the laird, 
 that he stooped and tottered beneath the load. He no longer 
 wore his hands in his pockets ; but with one arm leant on his 
 daughter's, while he sui)i!orted himself by the other with a tall 
 gold-headed cane, from which dangled a leathern string and 
 tassel considerably above his ^sp. Miss Mizy hi d also some 
 dillieulty in moving under the weight Oi ago. Her lean and 
 scraggy figure seemed considerably more awrr than fornurly ; 
 her steps w^ere much shorter and quicker, though she made less 
 way; and her head nodded with n. loose and unsettled oscillation, 
 which, even in the energy of scolding the maids, could not be 
 described as emphatic. But Mary Cunningham, though long 
 fully developed into an elegant woman, was still in the pride of 
 beauty. The liveliness of her ai*" "-ns, however, mellowed into 
 a serene and gracious benignity, auu it was a Sabbathly theme 
 of regret and wonder to the parishioners, that such an heiress 
 should remain so long single. 
 
 The moment that Sir Andrew saw " the family" coming, he 
 went towards them with a slight feeling of trepidation. The 
 laird shook him cordially by the hand : Miss Mizy also weleouied 
 him with uncommon briskness ; and Miss Cunningham herself 
 locket' so pleased, that it was observed by some of the shrewd 
 
 observers around them, that " mair strange things had come to 
 
880 
 
 SIB ANDREW WVLIR 
 
 pass than that Andrew Wylie should be married to Craiglands' 
 dochter," an event, in their opinion, which would be a far greater 
 promotion than his seat in parliament, or the honour of his 
 baronetcy. 
 
 Sir Andrew walked with the family down the churchyard, 
 towards a stile which led into the highway, considerably nearer 
 " The Place" than the gate that opened into the village. In 
 going along a footpath that winded among the graves, they hap- 
 pened to pass by the tombstone where he had so faithfully been 
 attended in his task by Mary, and with an instinctive glance he 
 observed that she threw her eye on it, and that a slight cast of 
 thoughtfulness at the moment overshadowed her countenance. 
 
 " It's something the waur of the wear since yon time," said lie 
 softly to her, and her face, in an instant, was covered with blushes. 
 
 But, with considerable spirit and gayety, she retorted, " And 
 I doubt you have forgotten some of your fifty psalms." 
 
 Nothing more passed at that time, for the laird interposing, 
 said to him, " I hope. Sir Andrew, ye'll no object to tak your 
 kail wi' us; but my sister wasna fond to bid you, 'cause we hae 
 only a head and pluck, and a canld hen ; but I ken that ane of 
 Snoozle tne China sow's wee grnmphies was killed yestreen, 
 and gin ye'll promise to intermit with us, just in the way of 
 pat-luck, we'll get it roasted by the time that divine service is 
 ouer in the afternoon. What say ye ? I hope and wish ye would 
 come ; for it's a great pleasance to me to see and hear of a lad 
 from our ain gait-end, that has done so wecl as they say ye 
 hae ; so I expect ye'll no be blate, but just use your freedom, 
 and tak a bit neighbourly chaek o' dinner." 
 
 Our hero was delighted with the invitation, and getting at 
 once into the old man's humour, said, with a drolling accent, 
 and a significant nod both to Mary and her aunt, " If it's no a 
 sin, laird, to dine out on the Sabbath-day, Fm sure I'll be right 
 blithe to dine wi' you at the Craiglands ; but I maun first tell 
 grannie, for fear she should be angry." 
 
 " That's a' very right, my man," replied the laird, in some- 
 thing like an affectionate manner ; " for she did muckle for 
 you ; but I understand ye hae been a kind and dutiful bairn. 
 Howsoraever, I hope ye'll come to us." 
 
CHAPTER LXXXVII. TH^ CHUKCHTARD. 
 
 381 
 
 ricd to Craiglands' 
 uld be a far greater 
 the honour of his 
 
 n the churchyard, 
 ionsiderably nearer 
 to the village. In 
 e graves, they hap- 
 I so faithfully been 
 itinctive glance he 
 lat a slight cast of 
 her countenance, 
 yon time," said he 
 veredwith blushes, 
 he retorted, " And 
 y psalms." 
 3 laird interposing, 
 abject to tak your 
 you, 'cause we hae 
 t I ken that ane of 
 IS killed yestreen, 
 just in the way of 
 t divine service is 
 and wish ye would 
 and hear of a lad 
 ;el as they .say ye 
 use your freedom, 
 
 n, and getting at 
 a drolling accent, 
 umt, " If it's no a 
 
 I sure I'll be right 
 
 I I maun first toll 
 
 he laird, in some- 
 e did muckle for 
 and dutiful bairn. 
 
 " I think, brother," said Miss Mizy, " that ye might as well 
 bid old Martha likewise ; for ye ken she's now a woman of some 
 degree. Sir Andrew being a baronet, forbye a member of par- 
 liament." 
 
 " That's very true, Mizy ; and she's a decent creature, though 
 a wee overly pridefu'," replied the laird ; " so I hope, Sir An- 
 drew, ye'll bring your grannie wl' you. We'll be very consent 
 to see her ; for I understand Mary Cunningham, my daughter, 
 has a great opinion of her prudence and judgment ; and ye ken 
 she got no sma' insight o' character at Mrs Perjink's boarding- 
 school in Emburough, where she was to thu outside of three 
 years, whereby she cost me mair ilk year than Doctor Dozadeal 
 had for his stipend before the augmentation." 
 
 Miss Cunningham, not much relishing this dissertation of her 
 father, pressed his arm to induce the old gentleman to desist ; 
 but this only made things worse, for he said, " Na, na, Mary, ye 
 needna chirt my arm, for ye ken weel it's true : and yet for a' 
 that, Sir Andrew, ye see she hasna gotten a man, although she's 
 a hantle mair weel faur't, and will hae ten times the tocher o' her 
 mither." 
 
 " Ay, but, laird," replied our hero pawkily, " young leddies 
 in her mother's time, I'm thinking, werena sae nice as they're 
 noo-a-days." 
 
 " Ah ! ye ken naething about it — ^ye ne'er was farther aflf 
 your eggs in thinking sae," replied the laird ; " for I can assure 
 you, Sir Andrew, that her mother was just a sorrow to court ; 
 for although she was the seventh dochter of poor Beevesland, 
 there never was sic a flyting heard in a house, as there was before 
 she would consent to tak me; although her father, as ye aiblins 
 hae heard, was drownt wi' debt by the Ayr bank, and though 
 the downseat of the Craiglands was an alraous deed to the best 
 tocher'd lass at the time, either in Carrick, Coil, or Cunningham." 
 
 In this sort of " daunering conversation," as our hero called 
 it, they readied the stile, where he assisted the two ladies and 
 the laird over, and was surprised to find a handsome carriage 
 waiting to receive them. But thoi-gh the equipage was in a 
 tasteful modern style, the horses and the coachman were in the 
 old slovenliness of the Craiglands. The horses were unmatched, 
 
382 
 
 SIR ANDREW WTLIE. 
 
 the one being black and the other bay, and they appeared as 
 rough and shaggy as if they had been taken from the grass that 
 morning, and harnessed without being groomed, which was 
 probably the fact. Old Robin Taigle, the laird's man, per- 
 formed as many offices as Scrub in the play ; and was riding 
 postilion without boots, in coarse grey worsted stockings, with 
 a straw-rope round his off-side leg, to protect it from bcin» 
 chafed by the pole — indubitable proofs that it was extremely 
 probable he had not time, or "couldna be fashed" that morning 
 to attend either to himself or the horses. 
 
 Having handed the ladies, and also assisted the laird into the 
 carriage, Andrew retired, and Robin, with a loud cry of " Jeo, 
 brutes !" set off at a sober rate towards " The Place ;" while 
 Miss Mizy, putting her head out at the ca. riage- window, said, 
 " Mind, noo, Sir Andrew, that we'll expect to see both you and 
 your grandmother, and ye'U tak a hearty welcome for good cheer.' 
 
 Our hero, as this stately equipage drove away, stood two or 
 three minutes looking after it, and thought, for the first time in 
 his life, that it was no longer a foolish thing to even himself 
 with Mary Cunningham. 
 
 CHAPTER LXXXVm. 
 
 DAFT JAMIE, 
 
 " IsNA that a dreadfu' fine coach ?" said a voice behind Sir 
 Andrew, as he still continued looking after the carriage. "I'se 
 warrant ye ne'er saw the like o't in Lunnon— though the king's 
 there." 
 
 Our hero was a little startled by this salutation, and turning 
 round, beheld ihft Jamie standing on tlie steps of the stile, 
 dressed in an old cavalry jacket. On his head was the crown of 
 a hat, cut into something like a soldier's cap; his neck and legs 
 were bare, and his whole appearance betokened the military 
 vanity of harmless idiotcy. 
 
id they appeared as 
 from the grass that 
 roomed, which was 
 le laird's man, per- 
 ay ; and was ridins 
 3ted stockings, with 
 Dtect it from bein" 
 
 
 
 it it was extremely 
 shed" that morning 
 
 ?d the laird into the 
 a loud cry of " Jee, 
 The Place;" while 
 riage- window, said, 
 to see both you and 
 ome for good cheer.' 
 away, stood two or 
 for the first time in 
 ng to even himself 
 
 CHAPTKR LXXXVIII. — DXTT JAMIE. 
 
 383 
 
 a voice behind Sir 
 he carriage. "I'se 
 -though the king's 
 
 tation, and turning 
 steps of the stile, 
 d was the crown of 
 i his neck and legs 
 eened the military 
 
 Jamie was neither of the aborigines of the parish, nor a native 
 of Ayrshire, however celebrated that county may be for the pro- 
 duction of such worthies. In our hero's time he was not known 
 at Stoneyholm, where, indeed, he was only an occasional visiter, 
 in consequence of making it one of his resting-places in his 
 professional journeys to the periodical reviews of the garrisons 
 of Glasgow and Ayr. His favourite haunt was Greenock, and 
 for the best of all possible reasons, because, as he said, "the 
 folk there were just like himsel'." 
 
 It was his custom, however, when he happened to be at 
 Stoneyholm on Sunday, to follow "the family" from the church 
 to the stile, and to assist the laird into the carriage, for which 
 he was usually rewarded by the ladies with a penny. But on 
 this occasion, as they were squired by Sir Andrew, to whom the 
 attention of the crowd was so particularly directed, and whom 
 he heard spoken of as having come from London with "a power 
 of money," Jamie diffidently kept aloof till the carriage drove 
 off, when, seeing our hero following it with his eye, he naturally 
 imagined that it was in admiration of its splendour. 
 
 Sir Andrew, as we have observed, was a little startled at Jamie's 
 salutation ; but perceiving what sort of personage he had to deal 
 with, he replied, " Ay, it's a braw coach." 
 
 Jamie, encouraged by the familiarity of this answer, came 
 down from the stile, and looking queerly in his face, said, " The 
 leddies didna gie you ony bawbees, but ye're to get your dinner 
 They baith gie me bawbees and my dinner." 
 
 " That's because ye're a captain, ye ken," replied the baronet. 
 
 " Fm thinking," said Jamie, echoing the opinions he had heard 
 in the churchyard, " that ye should make up to ane o' the leddies. 
 I hae had a thought o't man, mair than ance mysel' ; but I'm no 
 sure whilk to tak." 
 
 " Is that possible ? " exclaimed Sir Andrew. 
 
 "'Deed is't," said Jamie; "for though Miss Mary's the bon- 
 niest. Miss Mizv kee"s the kevs^ and I'm desperate keen of flesh 
 and tarts. But I'll tell you something ; if ye'U speak a gudo 
 word for me, I'll do as muckle for you ; for I would like unco 
 weel to hurl in that braw coach, and walk my body wi' a golden- 
 headed cane like the laird." 
 
384 
 
 SIB ANDREW WTLIE. 
 
 " A bargain bc't," said Sir Andrew laughing ; " I'll no fail to 
 do my best for you with Miss Mizy." 
 
 "And what for no wi' Miss Mary?" said Jamie, looking at 
 him peeringly ; and then he cried, " O ho, my hearty, is that 
 the way the land lies already ! Ilowsomever, there's my hand, 
 through foul or fair — eyes right, and look to your officer." 
 
 There was something in this little scene which made our hero feel 
 dissatisfied with himself. lie had not given the idiot credit for half 
 the discernment he possessed, and to he quit of him took out a 
 sixpence, and giving it hastily to Jamie, turned and walked away. 
 
 As Sir Andrew ascended the steps of the stile, and went home 
 to his grandmother's cottage through the churchyard, Jamie ran 
 leaping and exulting, holding the sixpence aloft between his 
 finger and thumb, straight on to The Place, where he arrived 
 just as the carriage was driving off after setting down the family. 
 
 "What's making you so glad the day, Jamie?" said Mary to 
 him, who was still standing at the door. 
 
 " Do you see what I hae got ? " was the reply, showing the 
 sixpence; and adding, '■ noo, I'll hae ay or no frae Miss Mizy— 
 "and if she'll no tak me, then I'll tak you. But na; I canna 
 do that noo, honour, honour — that puts an end, Miss Mary, to 
 a' your hopes o' me." 
 
 " Ye're certainly, I see," said Miss Cunningham laughingly, 
 "a rich match, indeed; but who gave you the sixpence?" 
 
 " The wee man wi' the muckle purse ; but I'm no at liberty 
 to say ony mair; so speer nae questions, and I'll tell nae lies!" 
 replied Jamie. " But, Miss Mary, he's a fine bit body yon— I 
 wonder ye canna tak a fancy till't — eh. Miss Mary, he's just like 
 a bonny wee china pourie, full o' thick ream. Ye would lick 
 your lips an' ye kent what I ken — I redd ye. Miss Mary, to niak' 
 muckle o' him, or I wouldna be surprised an' he fuff'd awa' wi' 
 a' his goud and gear to Miss Jenny Templeton o' the Braehoad, 
 that's got the tocher frae Indy. Oh, she's a sonsy, rosy cheekit 
 lass ! I would like to hae a sheep's head wi' as glide a cuff o' the 
 neck. He'll get a bien bargain that gets Miss Jenny." 
 
 Miss Cunningham, amazed and surprised at (his speech, said, 
 "But, Jamie, what makes you think the wee man wi' the muckle 
 purse is likely to prefer me first to Miss Jenny Templeton?" 
 
ng; "TUnofailto 
 
 Jamie, looking at 
 ray hearty, is that 
 r, there's my hand, 
 your officer." 
 h made our hero feel 
 1 idiot credit for half 
 ; of him took out a 
 } and walked away, 
 tile, and went home 
 rcliyard, Jamie ran 
 
 aloft between his 
 , where he arrived 
 g down the family, 
 lie?" said Mary to 
 
 reply, showing the 
 
 > frae Miss Mizy— 
 
 But na ; I canna 
 
 •nd. Miss Mary, to 
 
 igham laughingly, 
 e sixpence?" 
 t I'm no at liberty 
 I'll tell nae lies!" 
 e bit body yon — I 
 Mary, he's just like 
 n. Ye would lick 
 ^liss Mary, to niak' 
 ' he fuff'd awa' m' 
 in o' the Brachead, 
 sonsy, rosy cheeklt 
 I glide a cuff o' the 
 IS Jenny." 
 t this speech, said, 
 nan wi' the muckle 
 yTempleton?" 
 
 CHAPTEB LXXXVIII. — DAFT JAMIE. 
 
 385 
 
 "That's a question amang divines, Miss Mary," replied 
 Jamie. "But if I were in your place, when he's getting his 
 dinner wi' you the day, I would gie him the tappy-tourock o' 
 the pie, and the best leg o' the fat hen; and wha kens what 
 may be the upshot ! " 
 
 "But, Jamie," said Miss Cunningham, "this is not leap-year. 
 The ladies are not free to court but in leap-years." 
 
 "That may be the rule, Miss Mary, in ordinary times. But 
 men's growing scarce— the regiment that's noo at Ayr, is under 
 orders for America; they'll tak a whole thousand awa' them- 
 selves—and, gin the war continues lang, ye'Il hardly get a lad 
 in time for love or money, so I wadna be overly particular about 
 leap-years; especially when sic a godsend has come to your 
 doors as yon nice couthy Lunnon body ;— they say he has a purse 
 o' gold as big as a boll o' potatoes." 
 
 "Come in, Mary Cunningham," cried Miss Mizy from the 
 parlour, "and dinna stand clishmaclavering with that haverel 
 there on the Sabbath-day." 
 
 "I'm thinking. Miss Mizy, ye'll hae to mend your manners," 
 retorted Jamie : "I may be a haverel, but every body kens what 
 ye're." 
 
 " Come ben, and close the door immediently," said the maiden 
 lady, still more sharply; at which words Jamie rushed past Miss 
 Cunningham, and looking into the parlour where Miss Mizy 
 was sitting with the laird, said, " ' I hae a saxpence under my 
 thumb, and I'll get credit in ilka town;' so. Miss Mizy, e may 
 I'^k to yoursel'. The poor man gets aye a poor marriage, and 
 when I had naething I was fain to draw up wi' you. But the 
 world's changed noo— I'm for a lass wi' a lump o' land, and a 
 young ane too. Miss Mizy. Howsomever, no to mak' a rent and 
 a r- ve o't a'thegither between us, gin ye hae the shackle-bane o' 
 a mutton ham, I'll find a corner near my heart for a' the flesh 
 on't along wi' your kindness, Miss Mizy — for I'm growing yawp, 
 and hunger, though it's gude kitchen to a cauld potato, is a %vct 
 divot to the low o' love." 
 
 "Woel, weel, Jamie, gang but the house, and see what the 
 lasses hae got in the pantry," said Miss Mizy; while the laird 
 
 o. 2 b 
 
386 
 
 SIR ANDREW WYLIE. 
 
 with whom Jamie was a favourite, gave one of these sudden 
 great roaring laughs, which are so well known by the generic 
 terra of a guffaw, observing, when he stopped, which he did 
 almost as abruptly as he began, "Really, he's a ready-witted fool 
 that." 
 
 CHAPTER LXXXIX. 
 
 THE laird's drawl\g-room. 
 
 When Sir Andrew returned to his grandmother's cottage, and 
 informed her how he had been pressed, both by the laird himself 
 and Miss Mizy, to bring her with him to dinner, she said, "It's 
 a great honour and testification, my lad, that ye should be 
 invited to dine at The Place; and no you only, but even me. I 
 never thought to see the like o' that; but ye maunna be overly 
 lifted up wi't." 
 
 "But will ye come wi' me? What say ye to that, grannie?" 
 |"Deed no, my bairn," was the judicious and humble reply; 
 "I'm no used to the ceremonials at the banquetings o' the great, 
 and I'm ouer auld noo to learn; but I'm blithe and thankful to 
 see sae great a respect paid to you; for wha that has seen the 
 eydent hand and unwearied foot wi' which I have so long ca'd 
 at my wheel, no to be a cess, would ever liae thought that I 
 would be requeeshted to tak my dinner in the Craiglands dining- 
 room wi' the family." 
 
 Our hero felt his heart glow with veneration at the motives 
 by which his grandmother was actuated, and he sat for some 
 time in silence; at last he said, "I'm nae dout vera muckle 
 obligated to the laird for his civeelity; but— and I dinna say it 
 out of ostentation and vanity— I may take my place with him 
 at the same board ouy where, and no be thought an intruder; 
 and therefore, if it wasna putting you to an excess o' trouble, I 
 wish ye would go with me to The Place." 
 " If it's to pleasure you, Andrew, as it's your welcome hame, 
 
r welcome hame, 
 
 CHAPTER Lxxxix.— THE laibd's dhawing-room. 387 
 ril no make an obstacle wi' my ain objections ; but ye ken the 
 
 '"■A^-™',"!' P""' '^"^ '^''^"' ^'•'^ '^^ ""«« '•ouse o' his family: 
 and M,ss M,zy, though she's vera discreet in some things, looks 
 
 aZm" ^ PT f"^^' '^"^ "^^ "^'«'- -«rly weel pleased when 
 M ss Mary visited me with her hamely familiarity. Ilowsever, 
 111 gang w, ye, but I would amaist tak it a kindness if ye 
 didna insist. ■' 
 
 Our hero, however, had a motive in pressing her acceptance 
 of the mntation; for, retaining a distinct recollection of the 
 peculiarities both of the laird and Miss Mizy, he was desirous to 
 see how far they had infected Mary with their prejudices ; bein^ 
 determined to make her behaviour towards his venerable parent 
 in some measure a test of her character, in order to govern him- 
 self m the indulgence of that regard which, although at no 
 period so strong as to merit the epithet of passion, was undoubt- 
 edly warmer, while it was as constant as fraternal affection 
 
 Accordingly, at the close of the afternoon service, his grand- 
 mother, on his reiterated request, walked with him to the 
 mansion-house.^ On approaching the well-known entrance to 
 the avenue which opened from the high-road, he was struck 
 with the air of renovation which every object had been made to 
 assume. The square pillars were not only rebuilt, but the two 
 stone globes, which had lain for many years on the ground, were 
 replaced on their summits. The iron gates, which had not been 
 painted for years before his young remembrance-and one of 
 which had long fallen from its hinges, and been drawn aside 
 from Its proper station-shone in the fairest white, and swunff 
 harmoniously in their proper places. The avenue itself had 
 also undergone a prodigious improvement. It was considerably 
 smoother and better defined along the margin than the king's 
 highway, which was not the case before his departure for London • 
 and the mansion itself had not only received a dazzling white-' 
 washing, but the sashes of several of the windows were renewed 
 Instead, however, of three small windows on P^oh «iHe of the 
 door, as formerly, there was now but one, in the Venetian taste- 
 a contrivance suggested by Miss Mizy to evade the window-tax 
 when the ever-memorable triple assessment was proposed. The 
 I'lace had indeed received very extensive, and even some radical 
 
888 
 
 SIR ANDREW WYLIE. 
 
 reformations, and not only bore testimony to the improved spirit 
 of the age, but indicated something of the taste which Mary had 
 acquired during her residence in Edinburgh, and of the influence 
 which she possessed over her father. But it seemed, to the 
 enlarged sight of our hero, to have shrunk prodigiously from 
 its former grandeur, although it was certainly, for Scotland, still 
 a respectable country seat. 
 
 Sir Andrew and his grandmother, on arriving at the door, 
 were shown into the drawing-room by Robin Taigle, now act- 
 ing in the capacity of footman, having put up his horses. Miss 
 Mizy thought there was no need to be so ceremonious, and the 
 laird himself said it was a work of supererogation ; but Mary 
 overruled their objections, by reminding her aunt of the free 
 footing in which they had found our hero among the great in 
 London. Accordingly, the drawing-room window-shutters, 
 which had not been opened for at least a fortnight before, were 
 unclosed ; and, as we have said, the guests shown into it by the 
 laird's man. 
 
 The drawing-room of the Craiglands, though without question 
 the most splendid apartment in the whole parish of Stoneyholm, 
 and in the opinion of old Martha, "just a palace," could really 
 boast of no very remarkable ornaments, either of decoration or 
 of art. It contained a large unwieldy settee, of coeval antiquity 
 with the first introduction of that species of recumbency into 
 the west of Scotland, being one of the relics of the furniture 
 which the laird's great-grandfather procured for The Place when 
 he changed the ancient castle into a mansion. It had originally 
 been covered with needlework, the skilful endeavour of the then 
 Lady Craiglands ard her five daughters to imitate flowers and 
 peacocks, in which they succeeded almost as well, both in effect 
 and design, as the Greenock sculptor who carved the celebrated 
 eflSgy of Vulcan in the Vennel of that t.ttssical town. But 
 Minerva, envious of their success, having, in the shape of many 
 shoulders, worn several holes in the work, the sofa was at this 
 period covered with simple white dimity, as were also the cushions 
 of the chairs. 
 
 The walls of the room were stained with green, the most 
 extravagant of all colours, as Miss Mizy told the visiters who 
 
improved spirit 
 vliich Mary had 
 of the influence 
 seemed, to the 
 •odigiously from 
 iT Scotland, still 
 
 ng at the door, 
 ^aigle, now act- 
 lis horses. Miss 
 lonious, and the 
 tion; but Mary 
 iUnt of the free 
 )ng the great in 
 (rindow-shutters, 
 ght before, were 
 vn into it by the 
 
 without question 
 1 of Stoneyholm, 
 ce," could really 
 of decoration or 
 coeval antiquity 
 recumbency into 
 of the furniture 
 • The Place when 
 It had originally 
 ivour of the then 
 itate flowers and 
 ell, both in effect 
 ed the celebrated 
 lical town. But 
 le shape of many 
 I sofa was at this 
 also the cushions 
 
 
 CHAPTER LXXXIX. — THE LAIBd's DRAWING-ROOM. 389 
 
 admired it ; and over the chimney hung a map of Europe, 
 worked on white satin by Mary, at Mrs Perjink's boarding- 
 school in Edinburgh, which her father assured his friends was 
 most curiously particular, though France happened to be omit- 
 ted, either in consequence of the governess believing that Mr 
 Burke declared a fact when he said, " France was struck out of 
 the map," or because in drawing the outline she had omitted to 
 leave room to insert it. On each side of this splendid display of 
 Penelopian industry and geographical knowledge, hung two 
 paintings, which were paid for as likenesses of the laird and his 
 lady in the halcyon days of their bridal beauty ; but with what 
 propriety was never satisfactorily ascertained : Craiglands him- 
 self, however, affirmed, that the mole on his wife's cheek was as 
 natural as life, and the scar on the back of his own hand could 
 not be better represented. Along the wall fronting the window 
 hung twelve ancient coloured mezzotinto engravings, in black 
 frames, representing, with all their appropriate symbols, the 
 twelve months of the year ; the glasses of several were cracked, 
 and a starred fracture over the face of the blooming May was 
 ingeniously mended by a piece of putty, which entirely con- 
 cealed her smiles and her beauty. These also were relics of the 
 grand days of the Craiglands ; and the like of them, according 
 to the traditions of the family, were not in all Scotland when 
 they were first brought to it. There was but one other orna- 
 ment on the walls, and that was a looking-glass behind the door, 
 and opposite to the fireplace ; it was a French plate of con- 
 siderable dimensions, set in a frame of small ones with gilded 
 rims, so shaped and arranged as to present some almost hierogly- 
 phical indication of leaves and roses ; and underneath this pride 
 and glory of the Craiglands stood a second-hand harpsichord, 
 that had been purchased at Edinburgh for Mary, at the enor- 
 mous cost, as the laird often repeated, of ten pounds seven 
 shii..ngs, besides the box, and the expense of bringing it to the 
 Craiglands. 
 
 green, 
 
 the most 
 
 the visiters who 
 
390 
 
 SIH ANDREW WYLIE. 
 
 CHAPTER XC. 
 
 THE LANDED LNTEHEST, 
 
 The laird was alone in the drawing-room when Sir Andrew 
 and his grandmother entered ; and upon their appearance, with- 
 out moving from his chair, said, " Come awa, Martha, and tak 
 a seat. I am very well pleased to see you and your grandson, 
 whom I am happy to hear is a weel-doing lad, and likely to be 
 a great comfort to your auld age." 
 
 Sir Andrew felt his blood stir a little at the rude supercilious- 
 ness of this reception — but the supercilious, however refined, 
 are always rude — and, compassionating the laird's obtuse igno- 
 rance and indolence, he soon subdued the heat of the moment, 
 and wisely resolved to make a visit, which he apprehended 
 might otherwise tax his humility, a source, if possible, of amuse- 
 ment. Accordingly he took his seat modestly at some distance 
 from the laird, whom he slyly drew into conversation, by com- 
 mending the manifold and visible improvements which had 
 taken place in the country during his absence. With all which 
 Craiglands expressed the most satisfactory acquiescence, till the 
 Baronet, in an unguarded moment, happened, among the topics 
 of his commendation, to advert to th diffusion of opulence by 
 the introduction of the cotton-manufac aires. 
 
 "Ah! Sir Andrew," sa'd that illuminated political econo- 
 mist, "it was a black ('ay when poor Scotland saw the in- 
 coming pestilence of th 3 cotton jennies. The reformers and 
 them were baith cleckr'c at the same time, and they'll live and 
 thrive, and I hope will be damn'd thegither. 
 
 " Wheesht, wheesht, laird ! " exclaimed the old woman ; "that's 
 an awfu' word— remember the Sabbath-day." 
 
 "Remember the deevil!" cried this worthy member of the 
 landed interest, "Isna what T say a God's truth? The vera 
 weavers in Glasgow and Paisley hae houses, Tm told, that the 
 Craiglands here wouldna be a byre to. Can ony gude come, 
 but vice and immo'-iity, from sic upsetting in a Christian 
 kingdom?— What would ye think, Sir Andrew, one 0' the trash, 
 
hen Sir Andrew 
 ipearance, with- 
 Vlartha, and tak 
 your grandson, 
 and likely to be 
 
 ide supercilious- 
 lowever refined, 
 d's obtuse igno- 
 of the moment, 
 he apprehended 
 isible, of amuse- 
 it some distance 
 sation, by com- 
 ints which had 
 With all which 
 escence, till the 
 Tiong the topics 
 of opulence by 
 
 political econo- 
 
 id saw the in- 
 
 reformers and 
 
 they'll live and 
 
 fToman; "that's 
 
 member of the 
 th? The vera 
 1 told, that the 
 ny gude come, 
 in a Christian 
 me o' the trash, 
 
 CHAPTER XC. — THE LANDED INTEREST. 
 
 391 
 
 Macandoe, a manufacturer, had the impudence to bid against 
 my lord at the roup of the Friersland, and not only outbud his 
 man o' business, but even Major Ilyder, the nabob from India." 
 
 " That," replied the baronet, " was indeed vera surprising, 
 laird ; sic a thing wouldna hae happened in the days of my 
 youth, nor in times afore them. But I dinna think the Major 
 o' ony better stock than Mr Macandoe : for his father, ye ken, 
 was the town-drummer of Kilmaining, and he himself, as I hae 
 heard, listed as a common soldier at the outbreaking o' the 
 American war." 
 
 "Ye' re no far wrang in some particulars," in errupted the 
 laird ; " but he raised himsel' by his merits in the service of hiS 
 king and country, and made his fortune in the wars o' India, 
 which is an unco difference to cotton-spinning." 
 
 "Ay, there's some truth in that, laird," replied our hero. 
 "But what's the story o' this Macandoe?" 
 
 " Story ! poogh.— He was the get of a Kilwinning weaver," 
 said Craiglands, "and gaed intil Glasgow when the cotton- 
 warks began, where he got credit; but whether by stealing 
 clues, or setting windmill bills agoing, I never heard the rights 
 o'. When he took possession of the Friersland, I was obligated, 
 out o' the respect due to my family, to buy a chaise ; for he has 
 got one, and wi' horses and flunkeys too, that they say my lord 
 himsel' hasna the like o'. It's enough. Sir Andrew, to gar a 
 bodie scunner to hear o' weavers in coaches, wi' flunkeys ahint 
 them. Mary would fain hae had me to cultiva*^e a visitation- 
 acquaintance with him ; for, as she said, Mrs Macandoe didna 
 want sense, and one of their dochters was at the Edinburgh 
 school, learning manners wi' her. and was a fine lassie ; but I 
 would as soon sit in a Relief kirK, as darken the door o' ony sic 
 cattle." 
 
 "Ay, but, laird," interposed the old woman, "there has been 
 a growth o' many comforts since the cotton-warks were brought . 
 in. There's Jenny Eydcnt, when her gudeman brak, and di^t 
 o' a broken heart, in the calamity o' the Ayr bank, she was left 
 wi' a sma' family o' seven weans, five dochters, and twa twin- 
 babies o' lad bairns, and no help but her ten fingers. See what 
 she has been enabled to do by the tambouring. There's no a 
 
SIR 4IlnREW WTLIE. 
 
 better cUi'^- or a better bred fumily in a' the kintra side. Miss 
 Janet, her second dochter, a weel-fuur't lassie, was crieil the day, 
 for a purpose o' man'm^'' ^ith John Sailfar, that's ni)0 a captain 
 of a three-mastit ship frae Greenock; and her son Willy, that's 
 so douce and comely in the kirk, to the pleasure of every body 
 that sees him, is gaun intill Glasgow to learn to be a minister; 
 for the cotton-works hae made that, whilk in my day would hac 
 been a sore burden, a stock in trade o' mony hands, whom the 
 Lord has blessed with thriftiness and prosperity." 
 
 Ay, but, grannie, ye ken," said Sir Andrew pawkily, "what 
 a rise has since been in the price of butter and cheese — that, to 
 be sure, may have gi'en a lift to the rent o' land ; but then the 
 day-labourer's wage it's doubled, and coats and hats are twa 
 prices." 
 
 "Really, Sir Andrew," replied the laird, rubbing his hands 
 with satisfaction, and giving one of his inordinate guffaws, " I 
 havena heard sic a gospel-truth for a long time. But they tell 
 me ye're wonderfu' clever, and surely that observe was a proof 
 and testimony of the same. Come, draw your chair closer to 
 mine ; for I'm fashed wi' ;i rheumateese in my arm, and canna 
 thole to converse ouer my shouther." 
 
 At this juncture Miss Mizy came into the room, and passing 
 old Martha, took her place in the seat of honour, facing her 
 brother, before she spoke. Our hero, who had begun to gain a 
 little in the laird's good opinion, was somewhat disconcerted by 
 this rudeness, and drew no favourable a\igury of the manners of 
 Mary, who had not yet made her appearance. The fact was, 
 that, after tluir return from church. Miss Cunningham, whe- 
 ther influenced by the exhortation of daft Jamie, or by the 
 manners she had learned at Edinburgh, induced her aunt, in con- 
 sideration of the rank of their guest, to make - > <,e -tddit'ons to 
 the dinner beyond the pii^, which the laird hinj-ei"' In 1 - rdered 
 to be roasted; and in the superintendence axid dii'ectlc;. of the 
 fiiime the ladies had in the mean time been employed. 
 
 " Sister," said the laird to Miss Mizy when she had taken her 
 seat, " I'm vastly weel pleased with this lad's sense and dis- 
 cretion." 
 
 "Dear me, brother," replied the lady eagerly, "ye forget that 
 
intra side. Miss 
 was crietl the day, 
 at's noo a captain 
 son Willy, that's 
 lire of every body 
 to bfi a minister; 
 ny day would hae 
 hands, whom the 
 
 ty." 
 
 w pawkily, " what 
 1 clieese— that, to 
 ind; but then the 
 and hats are twa 
 
 ubbing his hands 
 iinate guifaws, "I 
 le. But they tell 
 serve was a proof 
 iir chair closer to 
 
 y arm, 
 
 and canna 
 
 room, and passing 
 onour, facing her 
 d begun to gain a 
 it disconcerted by 
 of the manners of 
 i. The fact was, 
 unningham, whe- 
 Jamie, or by the 
 i her aunt, in con- 
 ■ 1 ,c iiidit'ons to 
 rr»-f:i'' *.'' 1 i.rdered 
 i divectlcu of the 
 (1 ployed. 
 
 she had taken her 
 i's sense and dis- 
 
 y, "ye forget that 
 
 CHAPTER XC. THE LANDEP INTEREST. 
 
 39S 
 
 
 he's noo a baronet, and a great parliament man;" and turning 
 with a smirk to our hero, she added, " Sir Andrew, ye ken the 
 laird's jocose way, and ye'U no tak it ill if he should iioo and 
 then negleck your teetle." 
 
 "O no. Miss MIzy! the laird and I are no acquaintance of 
 yesterday, and we can bear muckle wi' ane another for auld 
 lang sync,'" 
 
 "iVi Tew Wylie, ' cried his grandmother, "how can ye break 
 the L . d't d: y by speaking o' songs, and the like o' sic daffing ? " 
 
 At this crisis Mary entered the room, with her complexion 
 
 i.iewhat heightened; but whether from any moral or physical 
 cause — whether from sentiments connected with seeing our 
 hero an honoured guest in her father's house, or from the reflec- 
 tion of the kitchen-fire, in consequence of her presence being 
 requisite to direct the maids in some of the nicer culinary mys- 
 teries, that the occasion had made her desirous to see properly 
 performed, is a question that we shall not attempt to settle. The 
 blush, however, of the moment, lost none of its gracefulness by 
 the manner in which she went to old Martha, and said, "I am 
 glad to see you, and happy that you have come with" — and she 
 hesitated for an instant, and then added — "your grandson." 
 
 She afterwards turned to the baronet, and with a gay but 
 somewhat embarrassed air, said, "Sir Andrew, I fear yon great 
 London folks will have spoiled your relish for our plain country 
 fare?" 
 
 " The company," replied Sir Andrew gallantly, " should aye 
 be the best dainties at a' banquets ; and the head and pluck, 
 with the sooking grumphy that your father promised, canna fail 
 to please, with Miss Mizy's sauce and your garnishing." 
 
 There was a little tendency to a pun in this, which Miss Cun- 
 ningham perceived \nd perfectly understood ; but her aunt took 
 t as a compliment, while the laird threw himself back in his 
 chair, and roared his delight with one of his heartiest and most 
 
 un?ovcrnahlfl npala of laiiflrht.er. declarino-. when he stonned. that 
 
 — ^ — - - f~, . - — ^, , It' 
 
 he had not heard sic a funny saying he didna ken when. 
 
 When dinner was announced. Sir Andrew stepped forward 
 two or three paces to give Miss Mizy his arm ; but suddenly, 
 
 f it i 
 
mt: 
 
 ■■■ f-fe 
 
 394 
 
 
 
 mm 
 
 SIR ANDREW AVYME. 
 
 remembering in v'hat lofty company he then was, he retired back, 
 and followed his grandmother, whom the laird left behind. 
 
 Miss Mary probably guessed the object of our hero's alertness 
 and sudden halt ; for, instead of going on after her father, as the 
 usual routine of their procession from the drawing-room was on 
 company occasions, at Pace, and Yule, and high times, she 
 abruptly stepped aside, and turning back to the mantelpiece, as 
 if to look for something, contrived to allow Martha and Sir 
 Andrew to enter the dining-room some time before her. Thus, 
 without giving any cause for observation, delicately performing 
 that homage which is due to invited guests. 
 
 CHAPTER XCI. 
 
 bueakwo the ice. 
 
 In the mean time, Lord and Lady Sandyford, after parting 
 from our hero, had pursued their journey to Auchinward, where 
 they arrived about the same time that he reached Stoneyholm. 
 Sir Archibald and Lady Margaret were delighted to see them ; 
 and when informed of the secret object of their visit, and of the 
 motives by which their noble friends were actuated towards Sir 
 Andrew, who was described as the architect of their happiness, 
 they entered with zeal and alacrity into their views. Tliey told 
 them, however, that Miss Cunningham had the reputation of 
 being exceedingly proud and consequential— the failing, indeed, 
 of the Craiglands family ; and that she had already refused some 
 of the best matches in the county. 
 
 " As the figure of Sir Andrew," said Sir Archibald, " is not 
 likely to recommend him to a lady's eye, I fear, considering also 
 his low origin, that the undertaking will be more difficult than 
 you imasine. The journey, however, will probably, in other 
 respects, be of advantage to him ; for, if he is decidedly refused, 
 or perhaps disgusted, in consequence of the change that may 
 
CHAPTER xcr. — bueaking the ice. 
 
 395 
 
 len was, he retired back, 
 I laird left behind, 
 t of our hero's alertness 
 I after her father, as the 
 e drawing-room was on 
 , and high times, she 
 I to the mantelpiece, as 
 allow Martha and Sir 
 ime before her. Tlius, 
 1, delicately performing 
 3ts. 
 
 mdyford, after parting 
 to Auehinward, where 
 s reached Stoneyholm. 
 lelighted to see them; 
 f their visit, and of the 
 e actuated towards Sir 
 ect of their happiness, 
 heir views. They told 
 had the reputation of 
 al — the failing, indeed, 
 d already refused some 
 
 3ir Archibald, " is not 
 [ fear, considering also 
 
 be more difficult than 
 ■ill probably, in other 
 le is decidedly refused, 
 
 the change that may 
 
 have taken place in his own taste, in so long an absence, he will 
 feel himself free to choose elsewhere." 
 
 The countess replied, " There is much in what you say. Sir 
 Archibald, and were our friend an ordinary man, the justness of 
 your observations woidd make me despair of the business. But 
 there is so much heart about him— he is all heart— that, I do 
 believe, where he to be rejected by Miss Cunningham, he would 
 soon sink into despondency. From what I have observed of his 
 earnest and persevering character, I am persuaded, that if she 
 was not the sole object of his ambition, her image constituted 
 no inconsiderable portion of the motives by which he has pur- 
 sued, with so much constancy and consistency, one distinct and 
 clearly defined course of life. Had he been animated with the 
 vanity of making a figure in the world, he would certainly have 
 more studied worldly manners ; and avarice cannot be considered 
 as even entering into his character, for on all proper occasions 
 he acts with a princely liberality. Nothing but love can account 
 for the care with which, it may be said, he has preserved his 
 original simplicity, and the indifference with which he has seen so 
 many beautiful women, who would have been proud of his hand." 
 
 The earl, who was listening with delighted ears to the warmth 
 of his lady's eulogium, said, "Why, Augusta, you will make out 
 that Jacob's servitude of fourteen years, and another wife in the 
 meanwhile, was nothing compared with the constancy of our 
 little baronet." 
 
 "Jacob's story," interposed Lady Margaret, somewhat gravely, 
 " is at least a corroboration of her ladyship's opinion ; and I 
 hope that opinion is well founded. But I do not think the case 
 at all so problematical as Sir Archibald seems to think it. Women 
 are not so often ruled in their afl'ections by figure, as they are 
 accused of being;" and she added, in a gayer style, "we are 
 domestic animals, and the fireside virtues gain more upon us 
 than more showy qualities ; especially when we are, like Miss 
 Cunningham, unived at years of discretion." 
 
 " Indeed !" said the earl, in a lively tone; " and pray. Lady 
 Margaret, when do women arrrive at years of discretion ?" 
 
 "You must ask some one older than she is," replied Sir 
 Archibald, with a laugh. 
 
396 
 
 SIE ANDREW WTLIE. 
 
 
 ' Not so," said the countess ; " I can answer for a portion of 
 my sex. A married woman's years of discretion begin when 
 she feels herself dependent on her husband. But to return to 
 the pomt— Do you visit at the Craiglands family ?" 
 
 " We call sometimes, and the ladies occasionally come here" 
 was the reply; " but the laird is such an exception to the world 
 m genera, that (iiere is no venturing to ask him to meet 
 strangers. 
 
 "How then shall I get introduced to him," said the earl 
 It you do not invite him ?" ' 
 
 " 0,_ that can be easily managed !" cried Sir Archibald • " if 
 you think fit, we can ride over to-morrow after sermon, and as 
 If incidentally call. Besides, I should like to be introduced to 
 Sir Andrew; I should like, indeed, at once to show the laird in 
 what degree of esteem and respect he is held by his friends I 
 wish you had brought him with you here; and, of course, on 
 your account, I will at all hazards invite Craiglands " 
 
 "We urged Sir Andrew to come all that we could," rejoined 
 Lady Sandyford; "but he was firm and faithful to his own 
 resolution ; apprehensive, if he came here, that his grandmother 
 might think he had lost his respect for her." 
 
 "You might have given a more romantic colouring to his 
 motive, said the earl, " and perhaps been quite as near the tnith, 
 by saying, that perhaps he wished to take a peep at Miss Cun- 
 ningham, before she could have any reason to stispect the object 
 ot his journey." '' 
 
 "At aU events, my lord, it can do no harm," replied Ladvl 
 
 Margaret "if the countess and I go with your lordship and 
 
 bir Archibald to-morrow." 
 " I should like it of all things," said Lady Sandyford ; "for 
 
 1 intend to visit his grandmother. It is a tribute of respect 
 due to the genuine worth of one that contributed to form a 
 character of so much probity and feeling as Sir Andrew." 
 ^ It was accordingly arranged, that instead of returning home 
 
 rom .heir parish church after service, on the day following 
 Sir Archibald and his lady, with their guests, should drive.over 
 before dinner to Stoneyholm ; and in the fulfilment of this in- 
 tention, they reached the Craiglands gate just as the laird had 
 
:an answer for a portion of 
 of discretion begin when 
 isband. But to return to 
 ands family ? " 
 s occasionally come here," 
 1 an exception to the world 
 ing to ask him to meet 
 
 d to him," said the earl, 
 
 cried Sir Archibald ; " if 
 rrow after sermon, and as 
 i like to be introduced to 
 once to show the laird in 
 is held by his friends. I 
 here ; and, of course, on 
 ite Craiglands." 
 that we could," rejoined 
 and faithful to his own 
 ere, that his grandmother 
 ■ her." 
 
 jmantic colouring to his 
 en quite as near the truth, 
 ake a peep at Miss Cun- 
 ason to suspect the object 
 
 no harm," replied Ladyj 
 with your lordship and 
 
 1 Lady San dy ford ; "for 
 i is a tribute of respect 
 i contributed to form a I 
 ig as Sir Andrew." 
 itead of returning home 
 , on the day following, 
 fuests, should drive.over 
 le fulfilment of this in- 
 ite just as the laird had 
 
 CHAPTER XCI.— BREAKING THE ICE. 397 
 
 mumbled grace inwardly to himself, and the party had taken 
 heir seats at the dinner table. Few visits, in consequence as 
 both M.y and her brother remarked, were ;ver more m 1 1/ 
 for the dinner would be spoiled, as it was not possible to aUow 
 visiters of such a degree to wait; another embarrassment arosi 
 as to what they should do with their guests, for it was absolutelv 
 necessary that the laird should attend Si; Archrald td tt 
 stranger; and no less so, as Miss Mizy observed, that she and 
 Mary should go to the ladies. This dilemma was, however 
 speedily obviated by Mary, with promptitude and gr^ce, sa^ng 
 rmly, that she would remain at table, while her aunt an! 
 father went to the visiters, who, on alighting fr » thefr c"' 
 riage, had been shown into the drawing-room 
 
 I Ir ^Z^'y\^''' Ma'-y'" said old Martha, when the laird 
 and 3 iss Mizy had left the dining-room. «ha a sore time o1 
 
 w. a' this ceremonial, and" * 
 
 But she was interrupted by one of the maids looking in at 
 
 Sht'ilief ^^' ''' ^" ^^^'^^'y-' -'^ hisleddy-a 
 
 Upon which our hero immediately said "Tor,! nn^ t ^ 
 S™ yford , .hey are ju,. „„„ „„ „ ,4 t! Aueh tawart"" "^^ 
 What ken ye o' lords and leddies, Andrew?" exelaimed the 
 old woman ; when Mary immediately replied ^""'""'^ *« 
 
 B». prophet, are never respected In their own connTrv ,od 
 
 s.Hpuyf„,,yf.tve";:::^otr 1X^11™.';' *- ""■• *= 
 
 Miss Cunningham blushed ; but the look which she cast to 
 
398 
 
 SIE ANDBEW WTLIE. 
 
 CHAPTER XCII. 
 
 rRELIMINARlES. 
 
 After the reciprocities of the introduction were over, Lonl 
 Sandyford, who had previously determined to be all suavity and 
 conciliation, was so tempted by the obvious peculiarities of tlie 
 laird and Miss Mizy, that he could not refrain from amusing 
 himself a little at their expense. And accordingly he enquired 
 with much apparent gravity, if the pictures of Craiglands and 
 his lady, which we have already described, were the portraits of 
 Voltaire and the King of Prussia. The countess, however, soon 
 checked him, by asking the laird if he had seen Sir Andrew. 
 
 " Atweel we hae seen him; he's noo with his grandn other in 
 the other room. The poor lad, I have understood, is weel to do, 
 and we could do n£,e less than gie him some countenance." 
 
 "But what haf* become of Miss Cunningham V " enquired 
 Lady Margaret. "I should have been happy to have had an 
 opportunity of making her acquainted with Lady Sandyford.'" 
 
 " She's ben the bouse with the baronet and his grandmother," 
 replied Miss Mizy. 
 
 "Sister," cried the laird, "gang and tell h«r to come but to 
 sec my leddy." 
 
 "Ye ken," said Miss Mizy, winking to her brother, "that she 
 cannot with propriety leave our guests by themselves." 
 
 "What for no? Surely we're no to stand on su^h per- 
 nicketies wi' the like o' Martha Docken and her ove." 
 
 The earl and cour.tess exchanged looks with Sir Archibald 
 and Lady Margaret. 
 
 But his lordship in a moment said, " I beg you will not re- 
 quest Miss Cunningham to leave your friends. Sir Andrew 
 Wylie is a person of such personal worth, that neither Lady 
 Sandyford nor I conld possibly allow ourselves to be the cause 
 of any thing lowurds him that might be construed into a want 
 of due consideration for his high character and extraordinary 
 talents." 
 
 The laird did not very well understand this, nor what answer 
 
tion were over, Lord 
 
 to be all suavity and 
 
 s peculiarities of t!ie 
 
 ef'rain from amusin" 
 
 o 
 
 )rdingly he enquired, 
 s of Craiglands and 
 were the portraits cf 
 intess, however, soon 
 seen Sir Andrew. 
 1 bis grandn other in 
 rstood, is weel to do, 
 e countenance." 
 ingham ? " enquired 
 ppy to have had an 
 Lady Sandy ford.'" 
 id his grandmother," 
 
 her to come but to 
 
 sr brother, "that she 
 
 hemselves." 
 
 itand on sujh per- 
 
 I her ove." 
 
 with Sir Archibald 
 
 eg you will not re- 
 ends. Sir Andrew 
 that neither Lady 
 ves to be the cause 
 nstrued into a want 
 ' and extraordinary 
 
 Is, nor what answer 
 
 CHAPTJiE XCII. — rBELIMINABl£S. 
 
 399 
 
 to make to the earl ; but he was relieved from his embarrass- 
 ment by Sir Archibald, saying, " It was our intention to have 
 paid our respects to the baronet, and to invite him to dine at 
 Auchinward to-morrow, where perhaps, Craiglands, you will do 
 us the favour to accompany him." 
 
 Lady Margaret at the same time addressed herself to Miss 
 Mizy, and expressed her hope that she was not engaged, and 
 would, with Miss Cunningham, be of the party. Miss Mizy 
 at once accepted the invitation ; but the laird was not altogether 
 pleased to find our hero considered so much on an equality with 
 himself, and seemed reluctant to consent. 
 
 " Ye maun excuse me the morn. Sir Archibald," said he, 
 "for it's no vera convenient to me just at this juncture." 
 
 The earl, suspecting the motive of the laird's hesitation, said 
 adroitly to the countess, " If Mr Cunningham cannot come, it 
 will be unnecessary to send the carriage for Sir Andrew, as the 
 ladies will perhaps bring the baronet with them." 
 
 Miss Mizy, who, from the time she had been conciliated by 
 our hero in London, considered him in a favourable light, was 
 not, however, prepared to go such lengths at once as this, and 
 with considerable dexterity replied, addressing Sir Archibald, 
 " My brother will see how he is the morn, and if the weather's 
 good, he'll maybe come with us." 
 
 The visiters were at no loss to ascribe this evasion to the 
 proper motive. But Miss Mizy was not allowed to get off so 
 easily ; for Lady Margaret said to the countess, " You had still 
 as well send your coach. It will bring the whole party ; and 
 perhaps Miss Mizy, in that case, will have the kindness to make 
 ray compliments to the baronet's grandmother, and say I shall 
 be happy to see her along with them." 
 
 The laird and his sister were equally confounded, and knew 
 not well what answer to make, when the carl said, " I think, as 
 Sir Andrew and the old lady is in the house, the business should 
 be settled at once." 
 
 "Leddy' Martha Dock en a leddy!" thought Craiglands to 
 himself. 
 
 "Leddy! Martha Docken a leddy!" thought Miss Mizy also. 
 
 But the current, into which their wandering thoughts were 
 
 Id 
 
 liil 
 
400 
 
 SIE ANDREW WTLIE. 
 
 running, was stopped by Sir Archibald asking the earl, if his 
 lordship could use the freedom with his friend the baronet to 
 disturb him while at dinner, for otherwise the object of their 
 drive to Stoneyholm would be frustrated. This reminded Lord 
 Sandyford that they had drawn the laird and Miss Mizy from 
 the table, and with his most gracious and conciliatory manner, 
 he expressed his regret to have been the cause of disturbing 
 them. He then turned to Sir Archibald, and with the best look 
 and voice of sincerity that he could assume, he added, "Although 
 my friend. Sir Andrew, is one of the best-humoured men living, 
 yet, considering the distinction and deierence to which he is 
 accustomed, I should almost hesitate to take so great a liberty. 
 But perhaps this lady," said his lordship, turning to Miss Mizy, 
 "will take the trouble, merely in an incidental manner, to let 
 him know that Lady Sandyford is in the house. He will come 
 at once, I know, to see her ladyship." 
 
 It was with some difficulty that the countess and Lady Mar- 
 garet could preserve their gravity, at seeing the vacant astonish- 
 ment with which the laird and his sister exchanged looks, on 
 hearing Martha Docken's grandson spoken of by an earl with 
 such consideration. 
 
 Miss Mizy, however, without saying a word, rose, and going 
 into the dining-room, told the baronet, with a degree of diffi- 
 dence, which even old Martha herself observed, that Lord and 
 Lady Sandyford were in the drawing-room, with Sir Archibald 
 and Lady Margaret Maybole, who were desirous of being intro- 
 duced to him. 
 
 Our hero, who was amused by the change in Miss Mizy's 
 deportment, instantly rose, and joined the party in the drawing- 
 room, from which he returned in the course of a few minute?, 
 and said to Mary, "Miss Cunningham, you must grant me a 
 favour. The Countess of Sandyford wishes to be introduced to 
 you; allow me to lead you to her leddyship." 
 
 Mary rose instinctively, and Sir Andrew, in the moment, for- 
 getting that he had as far as possible resumed his rustic manners, 
 led her away by the hand, to the utter amazement of his grand- 
 mother, while Miss Mizy followed, leaving the old woman alone. 
 Her surprise. hoAvever, was notning to that of the laird, when he 
 
 3. 
 
CHAPTER XCn. — VRELIMINARIES. 
 
 401 
 
 sking the earl, if his 
 riend the baronet to 
 e the object of their 
 
 This reminded Lord 
 and Miss Mizy from 
 conciliatory manner, 
 
 cause of disturbing 
 id with the best look 
 he added, "Although 
 umoured men living, 
 2nce to which he is 
 e so great a liberty, 
 irning to Miss Mizy, 
 lental manner, to let 
 iuse. He will come 
 
 tess and Lady Mar- 
 
 the vacant astonish- 
 
 exchanged looks, on 
 
 a of by an earl with 
 
 ord, rose, and going 
 th a degree of diffi- 
 ;rved, that Lord and 
 , with Sir Archibald 
 iirous of being intro- 
 
 nge in Miss Mizy's 
 arty in the drawing- 
 se of a few minute?, 
 )u must grant me a 
 3 to be introduced to 
 
 , in the moment, for- 
 d his rustic manners, 
 zement of his grand- 
 the old woman alone. 
 of the laird, when he 
 
 saw them enter together; and especially when, after leading 
 Mary to the countess, the earl introduced the baronet to Sir 
 Archibald as his most particular and esteemed friend, and the 
 person to whom, of all others, he considered himself under the 
 greatest obligations. Lady Margaret was then introduced to 
 him by Sir Archibald, when she expressed her wish that he 
 would bring his grandmother with him to dinner next day. 
 
 "That, I fear, will not be in my power," was the reply. 
 "She is an old woman, with very just and discreet notions of 
 her condition, and I would be sorry to put her out of her own 
 way; but of the honour, Leddy Margaret, I am very deeply 
 sensible." 
 
 It was then arranged that Lord Sandyford's carriage should 
 be sent over next day to Stoneyholm, for Sir Andrew and the 
 Craiglands family, and the visiters soon after retired. The earl 
 proposed to the countess, before quitting the house, that they 
 should be introduced to "the old lady;" but Sir Andrew inter- 
 fered. "Not yet," said he. "It is necessary that I should pre- 
 pare her in some degree for the honour you intend." And in 
 saying these words, he handed her ladyship to the carriage. 
 
 On returning into the house, he accompanied the laird and 
 the two ladies back to the dining-room, where Craiglands 
 endeavoured against the grain to rouse himself into some feeling 
 of deference and respect. 
 
 Nothing further of any consequence took place that after- 
 noon. The baronet tried to entertain the laird by answering, 
 as circumstantially as possible, his manifold enquiries respecting 
 London, and seemed in some degree to gain upon his good-will; 
 but there was a visible restraint on the whole party, and neither 
 seemed to feci quite at ease. Miss Mizy was disconcerted ; for 
 the consideration which her noble visiters had shown towards 
 her guests, she felt as a tacit reproof to her own deficiency; old 
 Martha was evidently out of her element; and Mary Cunning, 
 ham was sometimes .absent .and thoughtful, wondering in her 
 own mind what was to be the issue of all the singular interest 
 which the return of Wheelie seemed to excite. 
 
 8. 
 
 2c 
 
402 
 
 SIR ANDREW WTLIE. 
 
 CHAPTER XCIII. 
 
 OBIPFLB JANET. 
 
 if^?#lfci 
 
 In the twilight Andrew walked home with his grandmother 
 to her cottage, where lie had invited the master to supper. As 
 they were slowly plodding from the Craiglands gate to the vil- 
 lage, the old woman, reverting to the occurrences of the day, 
 exhorted him no to be lifted up, but to be of a lowly heart, and 
 to walk soberly, and keep a steady hand, that he might be able 
 " to carry the cup which the Lord had filled to overflowing. I 
 never expected to live to see the day when I should sit down 
 with you at Craiglands' table, and be treated on a footing with 
 the family." But the baronet's mind was intent on other things, 
 and much of her pious admonitions was heard unheeded, and 
 left no trace behind. 
 
 As they approached the door of her humble dwelling, he 
 observed an old woman with a staff in her hand sitting on the 
 low dry stone wall which connected the cottage with its neigh- 
 bour. She was in Sabbath cleanness, but her apparel was old 
 and tattered; nevertheless, it presented some of the relics of 
 better days. She wore a small black silk bonnet, embrowned 
 with the sunshine of many summers : her cloak, which had 
 once been scarlet, was changed into a dingy crimson, tattered 
 and patched in several places, and her check apron, neat from 
 the fold, was ragged, and old, and very mean. 
 
 When our hero and old Martha drew near, the modest beggar 
 turned aside her face, as if ashamed that Sir Andrew should 
 recognize her, while the place she had chosen showed that she 
 was there patiently waiting his return home. 
 
 "Ye maun gie her saxpence, I'se warrant, Andrew," said 
 Martha, on observing her, " for auld lang syne ; poor body, she's 
 noo greatly fail't. In her needcessity she was obligated to sell 
 her wheel ; indeed it was nae langer of ony use to her, for she 
 had got an income in the right arm, and couldna spin." 
 
 " Who is't ? " said the baronet, roused from his reverie by the 
 observations of his grandmother. 
 
CHAPTER XCIII. — CRIPPLE JANET. 
 
 403 
 
 ifc 
 
 h his grandmother 
 ster to supper. As 
 ids gate to the vil- 
 rrences of the day, 
 ' a lowly heart, and 
 it he might be able 
 to overflowing. I 
 I should sit down 
 il on a footing with 
 mt on other things, 
 sard unheeded, and 
 
 imble dwelling, he 
 land sitting on the 
 age with its neigh- 
 ler apparel was old 
 ne of the relics of 
 bonnet, embrowned 
 cloak, which had 
 ;y crimson, tattered 
 k apron, neat from 
 1. 
 
 , the modest beggar 
 Sir Andrew should 
 in showed that she 
 
 mt, Andrew," said 
 le ; poor body, she's 
 ras obligated to sell 
 use to her, for she 
 ddna spin." 
 n his reverie by the 
 
 " Poor cripple Janet, ye ken. Do ye no mind how you and 
 Churlie Pierston keepit a stand wi' her at Kilwinning Fair. 
 Mony a blithe night you and him had at her fireside, for she 
 was aye kind to a' the laddies." 
 
 Sir Andrew felt a pang of inexpressible sorrow quiver through 
 his heart at seeing the old woman in a state of beggary ; but 
 instead of giving her a sixpence, he went up to her, and shook 
 her kindly by the hand. " It's a lang time, Janet, since you 
 and me were marrows in the stand at the Fair," said he ; " but 
 I have had a better trade by the hand, and ye should be nane 
 the waur o't. Grannie here tells me ye're no so able to work 
 as ye were in yon days. I'm really sorry that I didna hear o' 
 this sooner, but I'll try to mak up for't ; only I think ye might 
 iiae gart the master drop me a line before it came to this." 
 
 Janet took up the tail of her apron, and wiping her eyes, 
 which his kindness had made to overflow, said, "I couldna 
 think o' fashing you ; and I had a hope that it would hae pleasetl 
 the Lord to take me to himsel', before it was his will, for my 
 good hereafter, to bend me down to seek an almous frae ony 
 body; but I couldna help it — auld age, and an aching arm, 
 soon made my bit beild toom o' plenishing ; and when a' was 
 gone, what could I do, for I could neither work nor want?" 
 
 " 'Deed, Janet," replied Martha, " nobody says or thinks that 
 it was idleset which brought you to the loan ; for we a' ken it 
 was a sore night that, afore ye could bring your mind to gang 
 out in the morning. Many a saut tear and heavy heart was in 
 the claehan that day, at the sight of one that had so long ettled 
 to keep up an appearance, at last obliged to go from door to door. 
 But, Janet, Andrew will do something for you, and I'm blithe to 
 say it's in his power, as I hope he'll no lack of the inclination." 
 
 " Noo that I hae got the better o' the shame," replied the 
 poor old creature, " I maun just wursle on ; the neighbours are 
 a' as kind to me as they can afford ; I only trust that the Lord 
 will no leave me to grow bedrid — that's noo a' in this world 
 that I fear." 
 
 "But if he should," replied our hero cheeringly, "he'll send 
 some kindly hand to help you." 
 
 " Ay, so I thought ance," said Janet, " and so I would fain 
 
 
 rk.- 
 
 n 
 
 1^4 
 
 ■''Stiffr'i 
 
404 
 
 SIR ANDREW WTLIB. 
 
 hope still, for he has been 
 
 beggary, 
 
 gracious to me even 
 posing the hearts of every body to compassion and sympathy; 
 but when Mrs Pierston gaed away frae the Woodside to live in 
 Glasgow, I lost a good friend ; she would ne'er hae alloo't me to 
 die in neglect. Howsever, poor leddy, she had her ain trials ; 
 for your old companion Charlie, her son, perished the pack, and' 
 they say has spoused his fortune and gone to Indy ; I'm sure, 
 gang where he will, a blessing will attend him, for he had a leal 
 heart ; and I hae a notion that mine wasna the sairest in the 
 parish when we heard of his ganging abroad ; for ever since Miss 
 Mary Cunningham kent that it was me that keepit the stand at 
 the fair for you and him, she's been aye kinder and kind.r ; and 
 her and me has niony a crack about you and him, wheit I g-nng 
 on the Saturdays to The Place." 
 
 "They would hae been a braw couple," said our hero's grand- 
 mother; "and I ne'er heard till noo a right because for Miss 
 Mary being so skeigh to a' her other joes." 
 
 Andrew was not entirely pleased with this information ; for 
 although persuaded that no attachment had existed on the part 
 of Pierston, it was possible that Mary Cunningham might have 
 cherished some early affection for him ; an<i he was on the point 
 of turning away, in the absence of the moment produced by the 
 remark of the old woman, when his grandmother again reminded 
 him to give Janet something. Ashamed of his inattention, he 
 immediately said, " No ; my auld copartner maunna receive sic 
 gifts ony mair ;-^anet, ye'U come hame and tak' your suppar 
 wi' us ; and as the maister's to be there, we'll consult wi' him 
 what's best to be done for you." 
 
 " Na, na," exclaimed the poor old woman, bursting suddenly 
 into tears, " I'll no do that ; I canna noo sit down on an equality 
 wi' ony body that I hae fashed for alms. I'll no disgrace neither 
 you nor your grandmother wi' my company; but whatsoever you 
 and the master are content ' ■; do for me, 111 tak' in thankfulness; 
 but it has pleased the Lord t(. chastise me with the humiliation 
 of beggary, and I'm resigned to his will. I would fain hope, 
 however, that he'll no just cany his righteous dispensation so 
 far as to leave me to perish like a dog at a dyke-side— that's no 
 a' my anxiety." 
 
CHAPTEB XCIV. — TUE FIRESIDE. 
 
 405 
 
 !vcn in beggary, dis- 
 ssion and sympathy; 
 3 Woodside to live in 
 e'er hae alloo't me to 
 le had her ain trials ; 
 erished the pack, and 
 e to Indy; I'm sure, 
 lira, for he had a leal 
 la the sairest in the 
 ; for ever since Miss 
 it keepit the stand at 
 der and kind, t ; and 
 id him, wheu I gang 
 
 lid our hero's gi"and- 
 ht because for Miss 
 
 lis information ; for 
 I existed on the part 
 lingham might have 
 he was on the point 
 ent produced by the 
 ther again reminded 
 ' his inattention, he 
 maunna receive sic 
 id tak' your supper 
 e'll consult wi' him 
 
 , bursting suddenly 
 own on an equality 
 no disgrace neither 
 but whatsoever you 
 ak' in thankfulness; 
 ith the humiliation 
 I would fain hope, 
 )us dispensation so 
 ke-side — that's nco 
 
 The baronet was deeply affected by the lowliness of this burst 
 of affliction, and the honest sense of pride that it breathed. 
 
 Martha again assured the mendicant that she would be taki ii 
 care of. " Though it werena in the power of Andrew," said she, 
 " to do the needful, there's mony kindly neighbours, Janet, that 
 respect you ; and we a' think that what has boen your case may 
 be our ain, so ye shouldna be just so cast down, but come away 
 and tak' a bit of our supper." 
 
 "No the night," replied Janet, drying her eyts — "no the 
 right :" and rising from the wall on which she had been resting, 
 she moved to go homeward, which was in a differen; direction 
 from that of Martha's cottage. 
 
 Ourh. ?o then gave her what silver he had about hin:; saying, 
 " Tak' that, Janet, for erles of something better ; and be sure and 
 come to grannie's in the morning." 
 
 The unhappy creature could not speak, but grasped his hands 
 in both hers, and watered them with the tears of her gratitude. 
 
 CHAPTER XCIV. 
 
 THE FIRESIDE, 
 
 In the mean time the Craiglands family were discussing the 
 events of the day ; and the laird was not the least dogmatical of 
 the group, although, perhaps, not the wisest. " I dinna under- 
 stand," said he, " a' this wark about Martha Docken's oye. That 
 English lord and his leddy mak' him joke-fellow wi' themselves; 
 but the Englishers, as it is weel known, are no overladen with 
 discretion — that's a certain fact. But how Andrew came to the 
 degree of a bauronet, is a thing I would fain hear the rights o'. 
 Howsever, Tm thinking that vour bauronets noo-a-davs are hnt, 
 as a body would say, the scum that's cast uppermost in times o' 
 war and trouble." 
 
 " Ay, but, brother," said Miss Mizy, " Sir Andrew's a great 
 and wealthy man, and a member of parliament; and ye hae 
 
 
 ?' 
 
 it 
 
 
 .ii 
 
 J 
 1 
 
 ii 
 
406 
 
 SIR ANDREW WYLIK. 
 
 'im 
 
 .ji' 
 
 I- 
 
 S? 
 
 heard how Mary and me found him on a footing with the Duchess 
 of Dashingwell, and a' the nobility, which was just confounding." 
 
 " Ye have said sae," replied the laird ; " but every body kens 
 that duchesses, especially o' the English breed, aree na better 
 than they should be." 
 
 " But you forget, sir," interposed Mary, " that Lady Margaret 
 is sister-in-law to her grace; and when she gave us letters to 
 the duchess, she not only assure! us that she was a lady of 
 unblemished honour, but beloved and esteemed by all her 
 friends." 
 
 " Ye wouldna surely hae had Leddy Margaret," said the laird, 
 " to speak ill of her ain kith and kin." 
 
 " But Sir Andrew," resumed Miss Mizy, " has made a great 
 fortune, and has bought the estate of Wylie." 
 
 "Is't paid for?" interrupted the laird. " I would like to ken 
 that." 
 
 " I should think," said Mary diffidently, " that he must be a 
 man of merit and ability ; for you know, sir, that he had but his 
 own conduct for his patron, and he has acquired both riches and 
 honour." 
 
 " But how did he acquire them?" cried the laird sharply. 
 " Any body may acquire riches and honour ! — the road is open 
 baith to gentle and semple. But, thanks be and praise, the 
 democraws are no just able yet to mak' themselves men o' 
 family." 
 
 " It is not likely that Sir Andrew is a democrat ; neither his 
 associates nor his inclinations, or I am much mistaken," replied 
 Mary, " lie that way." 
 
 " Wha made you a judge?" exclaimed the laird. 
 
 " I do not affect any judgment in the matter," was the answer: 
 " I only think" 
 
 " What business hae ye to think ? Is't not as clear as a pike- 
 staff, that trade and traffic are to be the ruin o' this country. In 
 a few years, it's my opinion, they'll no be sic a thing as a gentle- 
 man. There's that poor mean-spirited body Monkgi'een, wha 
 was aye ettling to improve and improve his lands like a common 
 farmer, and wha cut down the fine auld trees o' his grandfather s 
 planting, and set up his sons as Glasgow merchants — What has 
 
 
CHAPTER XCIV. — THE riRESIDE. 
 
 407 
 
 ing with the Duchess 
 is just confounding." 
 but every body kens 
 reed, aree na better 
 
 that Lady Margaret 
 e gave us letters to 
 ; she was a lady of 
 steeraed by all her 
 
 jaret," said the laird, 
 
 , " has made a great 
 
 ' I would like to ken 
 
 " that he must be a 
 , that he had but his 
 ired both riches and 
 
 i the laird sharply. 
 
 r ! — the road is open 
 be and praise, the 
 themselves men o' 
 
 jmocrat ; neither his 
 h mistaken," replied 
 
 e laird. 
 
 er," was the answer: 
 
 )t as clear as a pike- 
 t o' this country. In 
 3 a thing as a gentle- 
 Jy Monkgveen, wha 
 lands like a common 
 s o' his grandfather's 
 erchants — What has 
 
 he made o't? His auld son, Robin, they say, stands behint a 
 counter gieing out wah- to tambourers. Willy, the second, is 
 awa' wi' a pack among the niggers to the West Indies ; and his 
 only dochter, she's drawn up wi' a manufacturer, which in broad 
 Scotch means just a weaver. In another generation, a' that 
 we'll hear o' the auld respectit family of Monkgreen, will be 
 something about a sowan-cog or a sugar-hoggit. I wouldna be 
 surprised to see a decking o' blackent weans coming hame frae 
 Jamaica, crying ' Ma.ssa granpa' to Monkgreen, yet, before he 
 died. It's a judgment he weel deserves." 
 
 " I am surprised, my dear father, that you entertain such pre- 
 judices against those who rise in the world by their talents and 
 merits. The founders of all families must have sprung origi- 
 nally from the people," said Mary, with a persuasive accent. 
 
 " True, Mary, my dear — that's very true," replied the laird ; 
 "but there's some difference between a family come of the sword, 
 and ane o' the shuttle." 
 
 " Ay, brother ; but Sir Andrew Wylic's no frae the loom, but 
 the law," said Miss Mizy. 
 
 " That's ten times waur," cried the laird. " Every body kens 
 that lawyer is just another name for cheater. Wasna I obligated 
 to pay James Gottera seventeen pounds odd shillings for outlay, 
 and the price of the cow that happened to die, by me accident- 
 ally poking my stick in her e'e when she was riving down the 
 hedge? Was there ever such injustice heard o'? — and that 
 came o' the law." 
 
 " I doubt, sir," said Mary, " that with these sentiments you 
 and the baronet are not likely to become very intimate." 
 
 " Bauronet ! bauronet ! What gars the lassie aye cast up that 
 bauronet to nie ? I dinna like to hear sic havers. Bauronet ! 
 Set him up and shuve him forward. Martha Docken's oye a 
 bauronet ! " 
 
 The conversation continued in this strain for some time, till 
 Miss Mizy again reminded her brother that Sir Andrew had 
 bought the Wyiie estate. " They say," said she, " that he paid 
 mair than thirty thousand pounds for't." 
 
 " Barrow't money ! barrow't money I " exclaimed the laird. 
 "What's to hinder folk frae buying estates with heritable bonds ? " 
 
 m 
 
 ::!i 
 
408 
 
 SIR ANDREW WYLIE. 
 
 proceed! 
 
 when 
 
 
 &;'"•-• % 
 
 "But the baronet" Mary 
 
 her father interrupted her peevishly, . 
 
 " Bauronet again ! Wilt t'ou ne'er devald with that baronet- 
 ing ? Tak him to you and his bauronetcy." 
 
 " I'm sure she may get far waur," replied Miss Mizy ; " for 
 he's a sensible man, and ye saw how he was deferred to by the 
 lord and his leddy, and how Sir Archibald and Leddy Margaret 
 made o' him." 
 
 " They hae their ain ends for that," retorted the laird. 
 " Ends ! What ends ?" cried Miss Mizy raising her voice. 
 " Ends here, or ends there," replied the laird doggedly, " it's 
 time to end this clishmaclaver, I want to hear nae mair o't, so 
 dinna fash me." And with that he leant his head aside on his 
 easy-chair, and seemingly fell asleep. 
 
 " I wonder," said Mary in a suppressed voice to her aunt, 
 " what can make my father cherish such antipathy against Sir 
 Andrew." 
 
 " It's no so muckle again.=l him, as it's against the new-made 
 gentry in general," said Miss Mizy. 
 
 " I'™ no sleeping," said the laird, by way of admonishing 
 them to refrain from the subject ; and raising himself, he added, 
 " I have been thinking on what we were discoursing about ; and, 
 sister, if Sir Andrew mak's a proposal to you, I'll no object to 
 the match." 
 
 " Me ! " exclaimed the elderiy maiden. " Proposals to me ! " 
 Mary laughed, and said, " IIow do you imagine, sir, that he 
 has any such intention ?" 
 
 " I saw wi' the tail o' my e'e that he was unco couthy with 
 her mair than ance." 
 
 " Brother," replied Miss Mizy, " how can sic an absurdity 
 enter your head ? " 
 
 " Then what the deevil mak's you sae hyte about the fallow ?" 
 cried the laird. " But we'll see what's to happen. A' I can 
 say is, I'll no object ; for really, sister, ye hae nae time to spare." 
 And, chuckling with delight at this brilliant sally, the laird rose, 
 and lifting one of the candles, left the ladies for some time to 
 discuss the subject by themselves. 
 
 
ediiig to say, when 
 
 with that baronet- 
 
 i Miss Mizy ; " for 
 
 deferred to by the 
 
 id Leddy Margaret 
 
 3d the laird, 
 aising her voice, 
 ird doggedly, " it's 
 ?ar nae mair o't, so 
 i head aside on his 
 
 roice to her aunt, 
 ipathy against Sir 
 
 inst the new-made 
 
 y of admonishing 
 himself, he added, 
 irsing about ; and, 
 1, I'll no object to 
 
 roposals to me ! " 
 agine, sir, that he 
 
 anco couthy with 
 
 sic an absurdity 
 
 30Ut the fallow?" 
 xppen. A' I can 
 ae time to spare." 
 ly, the laird rose, 
 for some time to 
 
 CHAPTER XCV.— A SEBVING LASS. 409 
 
 CHAPTER XCV. 
 
 A. SERVlKd LASS. 
 
 The maid-servant who looked into the dining-room to tell 
 Miss Cunningham of Lord ana Lady Sandyford, was no ordi- 
 nary character in her walk of life. Except once, to see the 
 draught race on the Saturday of Marymas Fair at Irvine, she 
 had never been out of the jurisdiction of the parish of Stoney- 
 holm. In her appearance she was, even for her condition, 
 uncommonly rustic; but random gleams of shrewdness and 
 intelligence occasionally showed that she was not altogether the 
 simpleton which her acquaintance in general thought. Her 
 father was the parish beadle, or betheral, as that dignitary is 
 called in Scotland, and, in addition to the wonted duties of his 
 oflSce, followed as a profession the calling of a weaver. 
 
 While she was a little girl running about the doors, Mr Tan- 
 nyhill happened to be pleased with some whimsical trait in her 
 playfulness, and took her under his own particular care, teach- 
 ing her not only all the little that he commonly taught the other 
 children ; but finding her apt, and possessed of a taste for read- 
 ing, he instructed her in the Latin language, and in time pro- 
 duced what he considered a most accomplished classical scholar 
 Bell Lampit, however, acquired no blue-stocking airs : she grew 
 up to womanhood unconscious of any superior attainments, and 
 was not otherwise distinguished from her companions, than by 
 being perhaps a little less attentive to dress. 
 
 About the age of eighteen, she was hired into the Craiglands' 
 family as an under-housemaid ; and she might, at the period of 
 which we are now speaking, be described as a queer-looking 
 girl, with ragged locks, long red legs, a short jupe, and a merry 
 eye. In the capacity, however, of a servant, the advantages of 
 the education which the master had conferred-, were soon mani- 
 fested in various ways. Instead of singing melodious ditties, 
 like her companions, to cheer the tasks of household drudgery, 
 Bell commonly repeated aloud to herself the choicest passages 
 of the English and classic poets ; and it was not uncommon to 
 
 
410 
 
 SIR ANDREW WTLIE. 
 
 hear her, in bottling small beer, joyously recite, as she turned 
 the cock, some social verse from Anacreon or Horace. One 
 forenoon, a short time before Sir Andrew's return, when we 
 happened to call at The Place, and were induced by the laird to 
 stay dinner, we heard her, as she picked a fowl that was put to 
 death on our account, declaim, with good emphasis, the whole of 
 Dryden's Ode. Suiting the action to the word, she tore the 
 feathers with appropriate unison to the varied enthusiasm of the 
 poetry ; nor would it be easy to imagine a finer burst of fervour, 
 than the energy with which she flourished the hen by the legs 
 round her head, as she exclaimed, 
 
 " And rouse him like a rattling peal of thunder !" 
 
 But for all this, her merits as a housemaid were not of a high 
 order ; on the contrary, when we expressed our admiration of 
 her accomplishments to Miss Mizy, that thrifty lady declared 
 she was " a glaikit and neglectfu' tawpy, that couldna be trusted 
 to soop the house, if a book or a ballad was left in her way." 
 
 Among other endowments. Bell enjoyed from nature an irre- 
 sistible propensity to communicate to others some account of 
 whatever she heard or saw. Lord and Lady Sandyford's visit, 
 with the consideration in which it was understood they treated 
 Sir Andrew, sent her cackling to the village, as soon as she 
 obtained Miss Mizy's permission to go out, on the wonted pre- 
 text of every maid-servant's Sunday evening excursions, both in 
 town and country, that is, to see her parents. And about the 
 time that our hero and his grandmother were conversing with 
 cripple Janet, she was expatiating with all the elocution of her 
 nature, to a numerous assemblage of the villagers, on the events 
 which had that day taken place at the Craiglands. 
 
 The result of her narrative did credit to the sagacity of her 
 auditors, for they came to the unanimous conclusion, that Sir 
 Andrew and Miss Mary would be speedily married, as they were, 
 no doubt, betrothed to each other from the time that the young 
 lady, with her aunt, had visited London. This idea was, in part, 
 suggested by some observations which the erudite Bell had made, 
 while assisting Robin Taigle to serve the table during dinner. 
 But although it was in so far her own suggestion, it yet, never- 
 
recite, as she turned 
 3n or Horace. One 
 iv's return, when we 
 iduced by the laird to 
 fowl that was put to 
 imphasis, the whole of 
 e word, she tore the 
 •ied enthusiasm of the 
 finer burst of fervour, 
 1 the hen by the legs 
 
 f thunder!" 
 
 d were not of a high 
 led our admiration of 
 thrifty lady declared 
 hat couldna be trusted 
 as left in her way." 
 
 I from nature an irre- 
 hers some account of 
 jady Sandyford's visit, 
 iderstood they treated 
 iUage, as soon as she 
 it, on the wonted pre- 
 ng excursions, both in 
 9nts. And about the 
 were conversing with 
 
 II the elocution of her 
 nlkgers, on the events 
 tiiglands. 
 
 to the sagacity of her 
 s conclusion, that Sir 
 married, as they were, 
 le time that the young 
 This idea was, in part, 
 erudite Bell had made, 
 e table during dinner, 
 jgestion, it yet, never- 
 
 t 
 
 CHAPTER XCV. — A SERVING LASS. 
 
 411 
 
 theless, operated upon her with the force of a new impetus, and 
 she could no more refrain from indulging herself in the delight 
 of being the first to tell the news to her fellow-servants, than in 
 the other case she could withstand her propensity to inform her 
 parents and the neighbours, of every circumstance that she had 
 seen or guessed respecting the visit of the English lord and his 
 lady. 
 
 It happened, however, that Bell, in her eagerness to be delivered 
 of the tidings with which her fancy was so big, rushing brimful 
 into the servants' hall, did not observe that Miss Mizy was there 
 inspecting a closet with a candle. 
 
 " O, what will I tell you a' ! " was her exclamation. " Sin- 
 Andrew's come down from London to be married to our Miss 
 Marj'." 
 
 " What's t'ou saying, Bell," cried Miss Mizy, starting from 
 the closet, and blowing out the candle as she set it down on the 
 table. 
 
 " 'Deed, mistress, it's a' the clatter of the town. What a' say 
 maun be true," was the reply. 
 
 With whatever sensations Miss Mizy received this informa- 
 tion, she said nothing to the servants, but went immediately to 
 the dining-room, where the laird was sitting asleep in his easy- 
 chair, while Miss Mary was reading aloud to him one of Blair's 
 sermons. 
 
 " Mary, what do ye think that haverel jillet. Bell Lampit, has 
 heard in the clachan?" said Miss Mizy in a sort of exulting 
 whisper. 
 
 Mary shut the book, and the laird turned his head to the 
 other side of the easy-chair, as if in his slumber he sought the 
 sound which had lulled him asleep. 
 
 " How should I know ? " replied the young lady, somewhat 
 surprised at the spirits into which the news seemed to have 
 raised her aunt. 
 
 11 Thoy ?n" vf^'re to he married to Sir Andrew ! " exclaimed 
 Miss Mizy, lifting her hands in token of the admiration with 
 which she enjoyed the intelligence, and the trium]^ which it 
 gave her over her niece, who had so often slighted her prognos- 
 tications with respect to his grandeur and greatness. 
 
 li 
 
 
412 
 
 SIR ANDREW WTLIE. 
 
 Mary laughed, and said, " I should not wonder if the story 
 has taken its rise from daft Jamie, who, in the fulness of his 
 heart, for the sixpence he got from Sir Andrew, advised me to 
 marry him." 
 
 Bat her mirth was not so deep as her heart, and she ex- 
 perienced the influence of a strange presentiment thrill through 
 all its pulses, in connexion with a sudden rush into her fancv, 
 of every incident associated in her recollection with the image 
 of our hero. 
 
 "I wonder what your father will say till't," cried Miss Mizy ; 
 and she moved round towards the easy-chair, for the purpose of 
 rousing the laid. 
 
 But Mary interposed, saying, "I am surprised that you should 
 be so taken up with this nonsense— I beg you won't disturb my 
 father— consider his prejudices. It will only vex him to sup- 
 pose such a thing possible." 
 
 " Possible !" exclaimed Miss Mizy ; " my lass, ye may be 
 thankfu' if ye'U get the offer— to be the lady of that Bk— Na, 
 na, Mary, it's not to be expectit that a baronet, hand and glove 
 wi' lords and duchesses yonder, will come frae London to speer 
 your price." 
 
 " I am astonished to hear you speak so lightly of such a 
 thing," replied Miss Cunningham ; « for I am persuaded that 
 if the creature Wheel-e were to offer, there is not one in the 
 world would be more disposed to send him off with a short 
 answer than yourself." 
 
 "It's my fear he'll no try," was the tartish answer of the old 
 lady; ''so ye needna, Mary Cunningham, gieyoursel' sic airs- 
 and ca' the grapes sour that ye canna reach— like the tod in 
 Esop's fable— So I will tell your father, for it's but right and 
 proper to prepare him for the news." 
 
 Mary made no answer, but rising abruptly, suddenly quitted 
 the room, while Miss Mizy, going round to the e.asy-chair, shook 
 the laird awake. 
 
 
onder if the story 
 
 the fulness of his 
 
 rew, advised me to 
 
 leart, and she ex- 
 aent thrill througli 
 sh into her fancy, 
 an with the image 
 
 cried Miss Mizy ; 
 for the purpose of 
 
 ed that you should 
 I won't disturb my 
 J vex him to sup- 
 
 ' lass, ye may be 
 7 of that nk— Na, 
 Bt, hand and glove 
 3 London to speer 
 
 lightly of such a 
 
 im persuaded that 
 
 is not one in the 
 
 off with a short 
 
 answer of the old 
 yoursel' sic airs— 
 — like the tod in 
 it's but right and 
 
 , suddenly quitted 
 easy-chair, shook 
 
 
 CHAPTER XCVI. — A. DEnATB. 413 
 
 CHAPTER XCVI. 
 
 A DKBATE. 
 
 " Sister," said the laird, nibbing his eyes as Miss Mizy dis- 
 turbed his slumber, " what for will ye no let a body sleep ? Ye 
 ne'er devald, wi' ae thing or another, frae keeping me in het 
 water." 
 
 "I wonder how ye can think o' dozing at. that gait; it's 
 enough to turn your brains to oil," replied his sister. "But 
 there's great news in the town." 
 
 "Ay, and what are they? Is Boney put out o' the way at 
 last?" said Craiglands, rousing himself into as much life as 
 possible. 
 
 "It's something far more extraordinar," replied Miss Mizy, 
 "and what I'm no thinking ye'll be so well pleased to hear." 
 
 "How do ye ken whether I'll be weel or ill pleased ?" re- 
 torted the laird peevishly. " It's an unco thing that ye maun aye 
 be argol-bargoling wi' me in that gait. I can get nae rest for 
 you by night or by day." 
 
 "I ken very weel," in a tone quite as sharp, was Miss Mizy's 
 answer; "and every body kens that, that kens you." 
 
 "Every body kens. Miss Mizy, that thou's a cankery crea- 
 ture, and that had thou no been sae, I might hae been quit o' 
 thee lang syne ; but nae fool cast up that would be fashed wi' 
 thee." 
 
 "Weel, weel, may be ye'll no be muckle langer plagued wi' 
 me; for if the news are true that I have heard, I'll soon hae a 
 better steading for mysel'." 
 
 " Thae maun be great news, indeed," said the laird, with an 
 accent approaching to the tone of wonder. " And what are 
 they ? It maun be an ill wind to somebody that will blaw sic 
 good to the Craiglands." 
 
 " An ye will hae't, ye shall hae't," retorted the justly-offended 
 gentlewoman. " They say Sir Andrew and your dochter's to be 
 married." 
 
 fc;t 
 
414 
 
 SIR ANDREW WTLIfi. 
 
 " Wha dares to say the like o' that ?" cried the laird. 
 
 " There noo ! ye s-^e what I foretold's come to pass," exclaimed 
 Miss Mizy. " Didna I tell you that the tidings boded nae 
 daffin' to you?" 
 
 " And how do you know whether they bode daffin' or dale ?" 
 replied Craiglands, a little taken aback. " A' that I can say is, 
 that I dinna believe ae word o't." 
 
 " It's very little to the purpose whether ye believe it or no ; 
 but if the marriage is to be, what will ye say tiU't ?" rejoined 
 Miss Mizy. 
 
 " Tm sure it would be a kittle question for me to answer," 
 retorted the laird, " gin there was ony sic benison in the bargain 
 as a clear house o' thee. But it's no a thing of ony sort o' pro- 
 bability at a', and' Mary Cunningham would ne'er tryst hersel' 
 without my connivance." 
 
 " As for that," cried Miss Mizy, triumpl, ng in the commotion 
 which the news had evidently raised in her brother's mind, " she's 
 her father's ain bairn, a chip o' the auld block ; and it's my 
 opinion, that were Sir Andrew really to make an oflFer, she would 
 refuse him, out of the contrarie spirit that she inherits frae — I'll 
 no say wha." 
 
 " Mizy, thou hadst ne'er a gude word o' ony body," replied 
 the laird ; " and it says but little for thee to misliken thy ain 
 niece, who is baith a gude-tempered and an obedient lassie, twa 
 things that ne'er could be said o' that side o' the house that ye" re 
 come o'." 
 
 " Weel, baud your ain part gude, brother ; but unless I'm far 
 wrang," was thu lady's emphatic reply, " ye'U maybe find, if the 
 matter comes to a trial, wha's in the right." 
 
 The laird, instead of responding, stretched out his hand, and 
 taking his staflF, which stood at his side, knocked sharply on the 
 floor. 
 
 " What do you want ?" inquired his sister. 
 
 But, instead of answering her question, he repeated the k/iouk- 
 ing, and Robin Taigle appeared to his summons. 
 
 " Gar ane o' the lasses," said his master, " tell my dochter to 
 step this way." 
 
 " What do you want wi' her ?" exclaimed Miss Mizy. 
 
CHAPTER XCVl. — A DEBATE. 
 
 415 
 
 1 the laird. 
 
 o pass," exclaimed 
 
 tidings boded nae 
 
 jdaffin'ordule?" 
 ' that I can say is, 
 
 ! believe it or no ; 
 y tiU't?" rejoined 
 
 ir me to answer," 
 son in the bargain 
 of ony sort o' pro- 
 ne'er tryst herseV 
 
 • in the commotion 
 ther's mind, " she's 
 ock ; and it's my 
 an oflFer, she would 
 inherits frae — I'll 
 
 ony body," replied 
 ) misliken thy ain 
 bedient lassie, twa 
 lie house that ye' re 
 
 but unless I'm far 
 maybe find, if the 
 
 out his hand, and 
 ked sharply on the 
 
 epeated the kiuck- 
 
 ans. 
 
 tell my doehter to 
 
 Miss Mizy. 
 
 " Tm her father, and it's none of your business, for ye're but 
 lier aunty — mind that." 
 
 Robin having retired, in the course of about a minute after, 
 the shrill tongue of Bell I^ampit was heard crying at the foot of 
 the stair, " Hey, Miss Mary, come down and pacify the laird, 
 for he's wud wi' Miss Mizy." 
 
 " The de'il do me gude o' that tawpy ! " exclaimed the old 
 gentleman ; " I wonder how I hae been able to thole her sae 
 long ; she would have akreighed in the same fool fashion, an the 
 house had been fu' o' strangers. Bell Larapit, ye limmer, wha 
 taught you to speak in that disrespectfu' way o' me ?" 
 
 Bell, on hearing herself named, opened the dining-room door, 
 
 and looking in from behind it, said, " What's your wull, maister ? " 
 
 " That's my wull," cried the laird, and he flung the stafi' at 
 
 her head. " There ne'er surely was a poor man driven so 
 
 demented as I am by a wheen idiot women." 
 
 Miss Cunningham, on hearing herself summoned, immedi- 
 ately came down stairs, and the moment she entered the room, 
 her father said, in a soothing and coaxing manner, "Mary, my 
 love, this misleart aunty of yours has been garring me trow that 
 ye're a crossgrained ettercap like hersel', and in no ae thing 
 will do my bidding, an I were ne'er so urgent !" 
 
 " I trust and hope that it is not your disposition, sir," replied 
 Mary, " to ask of me any thing so unreasonable as that I should 
 refuse." 
 
 " That's a leddy !" exclaimed the laird. " Noo, Mizy, what 
 do you say to that ? Is there ony contrarie spirit there ? " 
 
 " But ye havena tried her ? ' exclaimed the aunt, anticipating 
 an entire confirmation of her opinion. " See if she'll consent to 
 marry Sir Andrew Wylie; try her wi' that, brother?" 
 
 "I think," said Mary, a little fervently, "it will be time 
 enough when Sir Andrew requests him." 
 
 "Vera right, Mary— a sensible observe," was the laird's 
 answer. "• We'll gut nae fish till we get them; and I hope your 
 aunty will tak warning after this night, and no molest me wi' 
 her sedition. But noo that we hae come to a right understand- 
 ing, I would like to ken how the clash has risen ? " 
 Miss Cunningham herself had a little curiosity on the subject 
 
 
416 
 
 SIB ANDREW WS LIE, 
 
 as well as her father ; for, although she considered daft Jamie as 
 the original author, she had a feminine inclination to linow the 
 particulars of all that was reported. Accordingly, after some 
 brief consultation, it was resolved that Bell Lampit should be 
 called in and examined. The laird's stick was still lying on 
 the floor, when Bell, on being summoned, entered, and she lifted 
 it up, and held it out to him by the end, with a gawky look of 
 *;repidation. 
 
 " What's this, Bell," said her master, setting the stick in its 
 wonted place, "that ye hae brought from the clachan the 
 night?" 
 
 " I brought naething, sir," replied Bell, with the most perfect 
 and sincere simplicity. 
 
 " Ca' ye't naething to be raising a rippet in the house about 
 Sir Andrew Wylie and Miss Cunningham?" exclaimed Miss 
 Mizy. " The laird wants to ken what is't that ye hae heard." 
 
 " O, just a wheen havers, Miss Mizy !— just a wheen havers !" 
 replied Bell — " causey talk — Vox populi ! " 
 
 " Vox deevils ! " cried the laird. " But what do they say ?" 
 
 " That Sir Andrew would hae been married to Miss Mary 
 lang ago ; but ye wouldna part wi' her tocher till he could count 
 pound and pound wi' you twice o'er," replied Bell. 
 
 "It's a confounded lee!" exclaimed the laird indignantly, 
 while both Miss Mizy and Mary laughed. 
 
 " I said it was a lee," replied Bell ; " and some thought it 
 wasna come to pass that ye would ever consent to let Miss Mary 
 tak him, though he had the main's more." 
 
 " Wha thought sae? and what business had they to be making 
 or meddling in the matter?" cried the laird. 
 
 " 'Deed, sir," said Bell, " I said that I didna think Miss Mary 
 would ever tak sic a tee-totum as Wheelie." 
 
 " And wha the deevil speer't your counsel anent it ! " exclaimed 
 the laird. " Ye banly loon, gae but the house and mind your 
 wark. Ye thought and they thought — but if it wasna mair fnr 
 ae thing than another, I hae a thought that would gar baith you 
 and them claw whar it's no yeuky." 
 
 " Bell, leave the room," said Mary ; and she added to her 
 father, " You have judged very properly, sir. It is not riglit 
 
 
with the most perfect 
 
 CUAPTEE XCVn. A DREAM. 
 
 417 
 
 to allow servants to speak so familiarly. Her remark on Sir 
 Andrew's appearance was highly unbecoming." 
 _ " She's a half-witted creature," replied the laird, restored to 
 his wonted composure. " Sir Andrew, in my opinion, is a very 
 decent man of I'is stature." 
 
 "He's a very sensible man, which is mair to the purpose" 
 rejoined Miss JSIizy. ' 
 
 "What ken ye about sense, Mizy? Hegh, woman, but ye 
 hae made a poor show o' yours this night," said the laird exult- 
 iDgly; and he continued, "Come, Mary, my dawty, lend me 
 your arm, and help me up the stair to my room. Gude-night, 
 Mizy; and the next time ye prognosticate, I redd you to look 
 better at the almanac." 
 
 In saying these words, he broke out into one of his loudest 
 and longest guffiiws, at the conclusion of - hich, leaning on his 
 daughter's arm, he left the room. 
 
 'k* 'r : • i 
 
 CHAPTER XCVII. 
 
 A DREAM, 
 
 WTien our hero retired for the night to the small chamber 
 which had been constructed at the back of his grandmother's 
 cottage, he sat down and ruminated on the events of the day. A 
 large predominance of pleasure had undoubtedly been enjoyed, 
 but the comment of Cripple Janet, on the cause of Mary Cun- 
 ningham's kindness to her, threw long and wavering shadows of 
 doubt and apprehension over the hopes which the incidents in 
 other respects had unfolded ; and it seemed to him, that although 
 he had reached the table-land of fortune, there was a deep and 
 dark ravine between him and the desired obiect of his pprsp. 
 verance and pursuit. He had been hitherto engaged with affairs 
 wherein his own passions had no concern, and no obstacle had 
 impeded his career, or taught him to apprehend that he might 
 not reach the goal of his ambition. WhUe he therefore acknow- 
 ^' 2b 
 
 1 
 
 m 
 
418 
 
 SIB ANI>aEW WYLIE. 
 
 
 le('ige(l, that in all external circumstances he had been enabled 
 to surpass even his wishes, he could not disguise from himself, 
 that there are aims in life of more difficult attainment than even 
 riches and honours. lie felt that there was an immeasurable 
 difference between the disinterested dictates of gratitude, and 
 the desires and sentiments which spring from passion. In the 
 affair of Lord and Lady Sandyford, he was free and decisive ; 
 but in seeking the consummation of his own happiness, doubts 
 and diffidence paralyzed his resolution. It seemed to him, that 
 in his own case, comparatively, nothing depended on himself, 
 and every thing on the acquiescence of another's will and affec- 
 tions. 
 
 " If," said he to himself, as he sat on the bedside, " Mary Cun- 
 ningham has been a' this time thinking only on Charlie Pierston, 
 I wish I had kent it before he went to Indy, for I think it would 
 have been a pleasure to have helped them to happiness ; and I 
 had no need to be gripping and gathering in the way I have 
 done, Lad it no been to make myself a stair to mount to an 
 equality with her. ' To make the crown a pound young Jamie 
 gaed to sea.' — But, after all, Robin Gray got Jenny. Weel, I 
 canna help it. But ae thing I can do — I can prove that I wasna 
 unworthy of her love. I'll try the morn's morning to discover 
 how her mind lies, and if she prefers Charlie, I'll write to him 
 to come hame, and I'll gie him the estate o' Wylie to mak a kirk 
 and a mill o't wi' her. For I'll no fash mysel' ony mair wi' this 
 world's pelf and the blathrie o't. ' 
 
 With this determination he began to undress, but in the course 
 of a few seconds he forgot himself, and again sat down, saying— 
 
 " Surely Mary Cunningham's no the only ane that I might 
 think of — I wonder how it is that I have fancied her so long. 
 She's neither so bonny nor so blithesome as fifty others I hae 
 seen; I have been just the fool of that calf love, bred o' the fifty 
 psalms and the headstane. I wouldna be surprised to hear she 
 made me the laughing-stock o' a' her acquaintance, for she was 
 just a deevil for making diversion o' mc among thorn lang syr.e, 
 — No: it canna be that she has any notion o' Charlie — he, I'm 
 sure, had nane o' her — that's a certain thing ; for he was a wild 
 ramplor lad, and would ne'er hae run sic ram races had he felt 
 
CHAPTER XCV II,— A DREAM. 
 
 419 
 
 a races had he felt 
 
 a right true and faithful affection as I did. But what signifies 
 hat?-its a ane to me if her fancy runs on him, for I'il ne'er 
 ake a portion of a divided heart.-But the sooner I get at the bot- 
 torn of this the better. And with that he undressed, and throwing 
 himsef carelessly into bed, all the transactions of his past lifo 
 floated through his mind, in connexion with the image of Mary 
 Cunmngham; and suddenly the form of Pierston was seen 
 standmg near him. He looked at him, and he appeared pale 
 and feeble, and pointing with his hand to a picture, on which 
 appeared the distant view of an oriental city. In the foreground 
 ot the landscape was a cemetery, with several tombs, and on 
 one of them he saw the name of Pierston inscribed. In the 
 surprise of the moment, he turned round to ask his friend what 
 It meant. But the morning sun shone brightly in his eyes, and 
 the vision of the picture and of his friend hatl vanished with his 
 waking. 
 
 There was something in the circumstances of this dream 
 which made him averr ^ to sleep again ; and having dressed him- 
 sell-, he walked out. 
 
 In passing from the village to the high-road, he saw the 
 master before him, walking quickly, with the front of his cocked 
 hat turned backwards, and the back slackened down for a shade 
 to his f /es. Mending his pace, he soon came up to him. 
 
 The dominie, on being addressed by the baronet, shortened 
 his steps, and they fell into conversation as they walked to- 
 gether respecting cripple Janet; the result of which was, that 
 bir Andrew was to settle on her a stipend sufficient to keep her 
 comfortable as a boarder with some one of the cottiers " Bv 
 which," said the master, "ye'll bespeak twa good words aboon 
 by one good action here: for the stipend wiU be a help to somJ 
 other, as well as a consolation to Janet." 
 
 By the time they had discussed this arrangement, they arrived 
 at the end of the lane which led from the hamlet to the high- 
 road. It was not our hero's intention to go farther, and h^ 
 iiaue.!; while the master continued to improve his pace 
 
 "Where away so fast?" said the baronet. 
 
 " ! " replied the master, "I have had great news. A youn^ 
 lad that I kent at the coUege, is come hame from some foreign 
 
 :il 
 
420 
 
 SIR ANDREW WTLIE. 
 
 ^'^"•mw 
 
 lill 
 
 part; and last night when I left you, I found a letter from him 
 sent frae Irvine, bidding me to come and see him at the Cross^ 
 keys Inns there this morning. We were great companions when 
 laddies, but I thought he was dead and gane mony a year an3 
 day ago; he was a clever chappie, and used to say, if ever he 
 made a fortune he would get me a kirli." 
 
 " A kirk ! " said the baronet-" I didna know that ye were a 
 preacher. ^ "t»c u 
 
 "VVatty Ettle used to say I was a very gude ane; but I had 
 nae freens to help me forward, so what was the use of mv 
 preachmg ? replied tho innocent dominie. 
 
 "But are you qualified to accept a living?" exclaimed Sir 
 Andrew, feeling something between pain and pleasure-never 
 before having heard or imagined that Mr TannyhiU possessed 
 any(hgnity beyond those which he held in the parish of Stoney- 
 
 »Ay," replied the master, «I was licensed; but since I 
 preached my first sermon in the Barony Kirk o' Glasgow I 
 have never had courage to mount another poopit ; for oh I 
 was terribly frightened that day! when I gave out the first 
 psalm ye might have heard my heart beating at the far end o' 
 the kirk. 
 
 «rm glad to hear this," said the baronet to himself audibly 
 \^hat for should it make you glad ? for it was the breaking 
 ot my bread, and made mo fain to seek the lowly bield of a 
 parish school, where, for more than five-and-twenty years I 
 have been delving sand and washing Ethiopians," replied the 
 ktion''" "''"^^'' licentiate in the reproving accent of expostu- 
 
 "My wortl.y friend," said our hero, «ye cannot think I would 
 hurt your feelings ; I was only glad to hear that you are quahfied 
 to accept a parish. I think it's no beyond my power to get vou 
 one. Eut go to your old friend, and when you return III 
 expect to see you." 
 
 The gentle and ingenuous dominie could scarcelv comnrP. 
 hena lue import of these words; so much did the baronet still 
 appear the simple boy he had known as Wheelie. But after 
 they hau separated, he began to reflect on aU that had passed; 
 
CHAPTER XCVIII.—PaiDE. 421 
 
 ?oleJ Itle^ally reef -f "^^"'^^^'^ ^^^ ^' ^--' ^^ ^^ 
 the power ofTbaron^^^^^^^^^^ '" T^'"' """"^'' '* '"'S*'' ^e in 
 
 him a parish ^ ' '"''"^'^^ °^ P^''^''^'"^"^ *" Procure 
 
 
 now that ye were a 
 
 CHAPTER XCVIII. 
 
 PRIDE. 
 
 coach. We're bounrl nnf .' visitation, m a barrow't 
 
 En,li*ers .^ Z 'JL: "eS' of" """'> '° '^' '""^ 
 •beta; .0 ye'll ,el, Bobin tIT ," °' T ?'° "^ •**,■" 
 
 Miss Mi^y perhaps i„ ,1,,, j„j ^d of them by herself R„hi„ 
 
 wonjd havettSs'eXrfS """ "»' ^'^ ^''- 
 whtdt?Ji.''lt .r-7' "for reanyafteMhe nonsense 
 to Anchintrd.te.er ThtrTynt 1";',^ ^* "™P*'^ 
 
 Mah notions „Seh one lro."Xr,::,frrre 
 
 laiuiig- into liieir heads," ^-.-i.... .,om 
 
 everin,, he h^ been „„,y „eU,a V^LbU 1^ a^-^^e^! 
 
 b1 ; : ■ ■ $1 
 
 
422 
 
 SIE ANDREW WTLIE. 
 
 sion of Miss Mizy interfering too particularly with those con- 
 cerns which he considered entirely his own, but which were not 
 the less under her supreme authority, by his so doing, it is cer- 
 tain, that in the morning all his family prejudices were as giants 
 refreshed, and that during breakfast he spoke in the most con- 
 temptuous manner on the ludicrous idea of Martha Docken's 
 oye being evened to his daughter. Nay, he actually went so 
 far as to joke with Mary on the subject, till he brought the 
 crimson blood into the bloom of her cheeks and the alabaster of 
 her neck and bosom. 
 
 " It is," said she, " the most extraordinary thing I ever knew, 
 that, without the slightest reason, such an idea should have 
 arisen. Wheelie, for truly I can call him by no other name or 
 
 title, is very well to laugh with and laugh at. But " and 
 
 she paused. 
 
 " But what ? " cried Miss Mizy, who never gave up her 
 opinion to living mortal ; and she added, " I'm sure he is your 
 equal in consequence ony day. Thir's no the days of antiquity 
 — a baronet's a man of some degree — and Mary, ye canna dis- 
 own that he was farther ben among the great than ony other 
 body we met wi' in London. My solid judgment is, and I have 
 had a consideration o' the subject, that Wheelie, whom, by the 
 King's proclamation, we are behadden to call Sir Andrew, is a 
 dungeon o' wit, the like of whilk is no to be met wi' out o' the 
 presence o' the fifteen lords in Edinburgh, and I jalouse there 
 are but few like him even there." 
 
 " He may be a great man," replied Mary laughingly, " but 
 he is certainly a wee bodie." 
 
 I'he laird, who was in the act of rapping an egg with a tea- 
 spoon, set both down, and throwing himself back in his chair, 
 laughed immoderately for about a minute, at the end of which 
 he resumed the tea-spoon and the egg as gravely as if he had 
 never been laughing at all. 
 
 " Ilowsever," said the judicious Miss Mizy, " since we're no 
 to go in Lord Sandyford's coach wi' Sir Andrew, I think we 
 should let him know that we go thegither by oursel's in our 
 own carriage." 
 
 " Certainly," replied Mary, •' it would be exceedingly rude to 
 
CHAPTER XCVIII. PRIDE. 
 
 423 
 
 aughingly, " but 
 
 !eedingly rude to 
 
 do otherwise; and the laird, declaring his abhorrence of all 
 rudeness especially if there was any chance of it coming to the 
 ears of the Englishers, acquiesced. Bell Lampit was accord- 
 ingly called in to be instructed in the requisite particulars of a 
 mission to our hero. 
 
 "Ye'U gang," said Miss Mizy, "to Martha Docken's, and gie 
 our comphments to Sir Andrew." 
 
 "Ye'U do no sic things, Bell!" exclaimed the laird; "ve'U 
 take no compliments from me-That would be to gie the fallow 
 encouragement." 
 
 "Bell," interposed Miss Cunningham, "go to Sir Andrew 
 and say, that as my father finds himself well enough to dine at 
 Auchmward to-day, we shall go with him in our own carriage; 
 so that It will be unnecessary for him to caU here for us with 
 Lord Sandyford's." 
 
 "It's vera extraordinar," cried Miss Mizy, "that neither the 
 one nor the other of you will allow me to gie the lassie a right 
 mstruction.-Bell, ye'll gang to Sir Andrew, and say that it's no 
 convenient for us to depend upon any other carriage than our own 
 for the retour at night, so we intend just to gang by oursel's." 
 
 I m sure," exclaimed the laird, "I see nae need for a' this 
 pro forma. I'm no for summering and wintering about the 
 matter." ° 
 
 Bell, being thus instructed, lost no time in proceeding to the 
 village. ^ 
 
 In the course of the walk, she ruminated as most maiden 
 ministers do who are entrusted with messages— perhaps all 
 messengers, male and maiden, do the same; and the result of 
 her cogitations was, that the family had resolved to reject Sir 
 Andrew's matrimonial proposals. 
 
 Under this impression, on reaching the cottage -door of old 
 Martha, she pulled the latch, and just looking in, as the baronet 
 was sitting at breakfast with his grandmother, said, " Sir Andrew 
 ye maim find the road f« Auchinward by yoursul', for there's aaJ 
 room for you in our chaise." 
 
 "What did ye say, lassie?" replied our hero, partly guessing, 
 but not exactly understanding, the purport of the message. 
 
 "Dinna heed the donsie creature," said Martha. " It's the 
 
 IS >i 
 
424 
 
 SIE ANDREW WTLIE. 
 
 betheral's daft dochter— poor thing, she was a harmless bairn— 
 a wee silly; but the maister taught her Latin, and made her an 
 idiot." 
 
 Bell by this time had entered the cottage, and, taking a seat 
 uninvited, began to swing herself backwards and forwards, 
 repeating Jupiter's speech to the gods from Pope's Homer. 
 
 " Haud thy tongue. Bell, wi' sic havers, and tell us what thou 
 was saying," said Martha. 
 
 " I was saying naething, but only that our folk are a' gaun to 
 Auchinward on their high horses." 
 
 "Ay! and what's gart them mount them?" enquired Sir 
 Andrew. 
 
 "It's far frae my aught to say," replied Bell; "but I hae a 
 notion their no oyerly pleased about something— ye maybe ken 
 what." 
 
 " Me ! " exclaimed the baronet, and he suddenly checked him- 
 self; while Bell, unrequested, began to give his grandmother 
 her o^/n version of what had occurred during the conversation 
 which took pl.Tce when she received her instructions. But 
 our hero soon cut her short, saying, " Weel, weel, gae away 
 hame, and gie my compliments to the laird, and say that I am 
 glad to hear he is so well this morning, and that I shall have 
 the pleasure of seeing him at Auchinward. And, Bell, as ye hae 
 had some trouble in the business, there's twa shillings to buy a 
 riband." 
 
 "Na, na," cried Bell, starting up, and rushing towards the 
 door, "that would be bribery, rank bribery," and she fled from 
 the cottage as fast as her heels could carry her about twenty 
 paces, when, her feminine inclinations overcoming her classical 
 integrity and principles, she returned, and, with a gawky laugh, 
 held out her hand, and received the money. 
 
CHAPTER XCIX.— EECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 425 
 
 r folk are a' gaun to 
 3m?" enquired Sir 
 
 CHAPTER XCIX. 
 
 RECOLLECTIONS, 
 
 It «l| 
 
 Soon after he retreat of Bell Lampit, the master naving re- 
 turned from his visit to his old college companion, came into the 
 CO tage. He appeared deeply dejected, and brought in his hand 
 a letter sealed with black, which he laid on the table without 
 speaking, and, sitting down, heaved a profound sigh 
 
 Sir Andrew was in a brown study at the time, reflecting on 
 the communication he had received from the Craiglands, and 
 did not observe the emotion of Mr Taunyhill. But his grand- 
 
 The affectionate domii.e faliered as he replied-" I hae heard 
 black news. I di^ . . when I met wi' sic a sore stroke. The 
 etter 3 for Sir ^ ,^ , and I doubt, though he'll hear o' great 
 things m't, It'll gie him but sma' pleasure." 
 
 1 Jpr' wT^? '''T^T ''*' """'"'^ ^y *^^^' ^«d h« lifted the 
 letter, but before breaking the seal he turned round to the 
 
 "« W H P^Tu''^ V^ '' ^^PP'"^^^ *« ««™« i"to his hands. 
 
 "Watty Ettle brought it himsel', and he has come a' the way 
 froni London wi' the testament, to deliver it into your own 
 hands," said Mr Tannyhill. ^ 
 
 "Testament!" cried our hero, with surprise and agitation- 
 and a chill and fearful sentiment passed through his mind 
 mingled with the rer..mbrance of his dream and of Pierston. 
 
 Poor Charlies dead!" said the master, with an accent of 
 extreme sorroTr. 
 
 Sir Andrew laid down the letter unopened, and involuntarily 
 pushing back his chair, exclaimed, " Dead ! " 
 
 "Ay, he's gone, he died on the wide waters, and his body lies 
 buned m the bottom o' tlie deep sea. He was seh.^ wWl, .^^„ 
 severe aiiment-the doctors ordered him to try a change of 
 chmate, and he was coming home; but death had laid his bony 
 hand upon him for ever, and wouldna slacken the grim ffrin- 
 so bhthe Charlie is no more. The warm heart is kneaded in^ 
 
 W'H 
 
 fi'Jil 
 
426 
 
 SIK ANDREW WYLTE. 
 
 cold Clay, and the light spirit has departed on the win^s of fh 
 
 ken that a thing m t is hard and rough, and ill to thole." ^ 
 
 i^.s, observed the master, taking up the reflection «wn 
 never meet wi' freen's likp th^ f.„ < . renection, we 
 
 w nt ', ? 7 ^Th " 1 "™™" ^""^'^"^' ^"d «l^de wi' on th 
 winters ice. The coal was cau d on the hearth nf hnWi, 
 
 :™ "^^.ir i-'^r '"^ "'• '"■• ™' •p-*=^ <» 
 
 waieroora, Dut still, about ance a year we mpt nn,l of mi 
 
 W T / r ' "^^^^ ^ ^^'^ t^'«n a turn for divinity and 
 
 m^tf tT n"' ''' '^'P '^' ^"^"-^^^ *--tJ-- pounds f,; k 
 rne to the College, we lived thegither; our means weVsm7 
 and when they were like to wear out I was often v rjsad 7nl 
 his spirit was made of light and iov nn,l J,. ^ ,' 
 scrimnit mpnU r^v *i u • ^^' *"" "^ ^^ seasoned our 
 
 Torf tin n^v!;^PP'""^ «^ h^« °-t-«' that I still look 
 
 profif ? P r /''^ '^'^"~'" *^« ^l"lk he was to hae a 
 a d 1 lis let rl tl ^^* ^'^"' *^'"^« — - he had hoH 
 
 of dlltf d LTaTattstlr ^""'r ""^'^ ^"'^ -"- ^"" 
 he was dead I kenn„ l I """"''""* ^"* ""« '^at told 
 nvperJ A -. ^ ^'"''^^ ^^'' *hat at the time I rll.Jna 
 
 whe, "l t;;;!'; r^^^'" V\^ ^h-'^'^ ^ave f^t, and I was vexed 
 
on the wings of the 
 separation, nor ither 
 e." 
 
 le news had produced 
 !W, that ye're sorry, 
 mither, before your 
 
 world to make you 
 d ill to thole." 
 
 the reflection, « we 
 youth, when we hae 
 aid the kind-hearted 
 1 the events of the 
 i the epithet—" for, 
 sk wee laddie that I 
 nd slide wi' on the 
 learth of baith our 
 sk our bread in the 
 was 'prenticed to a 
 } met, and at ilka 
 ip was renewed in 
 •n for divinity, and 
 ree pounds to tak 
 means were sma', 
 ften very sad ; but 
 e so seasoned our 
 •e, that I still look 
 Siegither, as to the 
 : green and bright 
 hrough-gaun lad, 
 (vho sent him to a 
 
 he was to hae a 
 
 as he had hoped, 
 ore and more full 
 got ane that told 
 ihe time I didna 
 
 and I was vexed 
 lid have so little 
 if he could come 
 
 CHAPTER XCIX.--REC0LI,ECTI0N8. 
 
 427 
 
 freendliness of Watty EtTlefZ' k^u'"'^' ^"* ^'>' ^^^ 
 
 lai, inters trae him, and he bade me tell von ihnt ♦!,„ 
 legacy is better than twenty thousand pounds " ^ *^' 
 
 sicLrhaTbern in'drdrrui^v^ T^r ^'''' ^'y 
 
 hero was affected , but as soon asVr'Lt^^^^^ 7:^j'''fr 
 his little flock in the school, he imTediaS " of ?' ^^"" 
 to Mr Velhxm to prepare a trust-dTl 1 v ITu ^"^'^^^ions 
 ^hole of Pierston's properH the b^v ,t! ^' f ''^'"^^ '''' 
 a-unt it might realLTolfe pai ^ht'^^^^^^^^^^^^^ "^ ^^«, 
 
 tweny-one; a fourth on his attaining that of t wl f u ^ 
 
 remainder when he reached thirty.five "F r " saidTh!. h^^ '^' 
 m the letter to his partner «• if th. I„ f ? ' t ^^ ^^'""^^ 
 
 of the father of him!Te"r;eef the bi"^ '" ''''' ^'^ "^^- 
 
 ,In the performance ^f this generous duty, he enjoyed some 
 
 [ the slinf»t Kn V.n,] ^..jy , . 
 
 „.. „r, ' , ""^^ '^ ""» generous di 
 el.rf from the effecls of the sh„„k ho h,,, .„«■,.,. , , 
 
 r*? " :"^.7'* ;'.'» '-- '0 the po;.Xr,^„i ' : 
 
 inning. 
 
 ^st;;;:s;^^-si^£ji;-5 
 
 a«.h™uLve„„M;;cL™xrs: 
 
 tidings of Fieri 
 
 Jrless objects, 
 
428 
 
 SIR ANDREW WTLIE. 
 
 as he sauntered along, reminded him of his deceased friend, and 
 the sunny hours of their childhood. Heedless of his course, and 
 lost in reverie, he walked as it were involuntarily towards a turn 
 of the road where a large old tree was growing, against which, 
 so entirely was his attention inwardly occupied, he suddenly 
 stumbled ; and being roused by the accident, he saw that it was 
 the last of three elms, under the shadow of which he had often 
 played, both with Willie Cunningham and Pierston. He looked 
 at it for a moment ; and the rush of recollections and of feelings 
 ■which the sight called forth, suffused his heart and his eyes at the 
 moment with tenderness and sorrow. 
 
 CHAPTER C. 
 
 THE OUIEF OP DISTANT RELATIONS. 
 
 ^^^;'..,.,; 
 
 h 
 
 , ■■ 'l 
 
 . ."ii 
 
 (I 
 
 " -1 ' ■' 
 
 ; - 
 
 
 . i 
 
 A ;l- 
 
 I'll 
 
 During the time that Sir Andrew was on the road from 
 London with his noble friends, as they travelled leisurely, the 
 news of Pierston's death, and the manner in which his fortune 
 ■was bequeathed, had been communicated to his relations in 
 Scotland. His mother being dead several years before, one of 
 his aunts. Miss Peggy Picken, a maiden lady who resided in the 
 Stockwell 01 Glasgow, was his nearest kin ; and although on the 
 maternal side, she was, notwithstanding, firmly persuaded that 
 if there was any justice in law she should have been his rightful 
 heir. Miss Peggy was not in very affluent circumstances, and 
 twenty thousand pounds would have been to her an agreeable 
 acquisition ; indeed, for that matter, we should ourselves have no 
 objection, not even in the payment of that most hard tax the 
 legacy-duty, to receive a bequest to only half the amount at any 
 tirne. Having oeen educated at the same seminary ■■.vith the 
 
 — ^ 
 
 equally accomplished Miss Mizy, they had for more than forty 
 years kept up an occasional correspondence. During the first 
 fifteen of the period, their letters had been flavoured with many 
 pleasing anticipations, and amiable strictures on certain gentle- 
 
deceased friend, and 
 ss of his course, and 
 tarily towards a turn 
 ping, against which, 
 iupied, he suddenly 
 t, he saw that it was 
 which he had often 
 'ierston. He looked 
 tions and of feelings 
 rt and his eyes at the 
 
 ! on the road from 
 veiled leisurely, the 
 n which his fortune 
 
 to his relations in 
 years before, one of 
 y who resided in the 
 and although on the 
 :"mly persuaded that 
 ive been his rightful 
 
 circumstances, and 
 to her an agreeable 
 Id ourselves have no 
 t most hard tax the 
 f the amount at any 
 
 seminary '.vith the 
 for more than forty 
 !. During the first 
 lavoured with many 
 IS on certain gentle- 
 
 CHAPTER C— THE GHIEr OF DISTANT RELATIONS. 429 
 
 men who, one after another, were deluded away from the circles 
 of their haunts, by cunning and artificial women, who cajoled 
 them to become their husbands; so that the two interesting 
 spmsters had been most unaccountably left to spend their days 
 m smgle blessedness. Miss Peggy Picken had been in the 
 practice of occasionally visiting her old friend at the Craiglands, 
 but after Miss Mary returned from Edinburgh she was invited 
 no more; the young lady having strangely fancied that Miss 
 Peggy was making a despairing dead set on her father— a most 
 extraordinary thing in a person come to so many years of dis- 
 cretion—and she alarmed her aunt for the consequences. Still, 
 however. Miss Mizy now and then wrote to her when she 
 required any article of dress from Glasgow, commissions which 
 Miss Peggy was always exceedingly delighted to execute; and, 
 on her part, she had sometimes occasion to thank Miss Mizy 
 for little remunerative presents for agency in the shape of 
 poultry, kits of butter, and Dunlop cheese. 
 
 At the juncture of which we are now speaking. Miss Peggy 
 having occasion to write her old companion, mentioned the death 
 of Pierston, and bitterly complained of the "false," as she called 
 it, "will and testament which the near-be-gaun creature Wylie 
 the lawyer had wheedled him to make, to the manifest injury of 
 his own kith and kin." No explanatory comment was added to 
 this observation; so that, when Miss Mizy read the letter to 
 Mary and her father, which happened much about the time 
 that our hero had strolled into the fields, the laird expressed 
 himself as perfectly of Miss Peggy Picken's opinion. " No man," 
 said he, "that wasna under the cantrips and delusions of the 
 law, would have been guilty of making such an instrument. 
 It's my notion that Miss Peggy should try to get it proven that 
 her nephew was non compos, and so break the will. But nae 
 TTonder the baronet, as we maun nickname the body, has grown 
 rich. To get silly dying folk in the delirium of a fever to leave 
 us a' their conquest is an easy way to make a fortune." 
 
 Miss Mizy partly agreed with her brother, that the circura- 
 stances of the case ought to be investigated. " For if it could 
 be come at," as she observed, "that there was a secret pact 
 between CharUe Pierston and Sir Andrew before he went to 
 
430 
 
 SIR ANDREW WTLIE. 
 
 Indy, by the whilk he covenanted to make him his heir, it could 
 neither stand wi' law nor justice that those who had a right to 
 his property should be cut off without a shilling." 
 
 Mary said nothing ; the subject had thrown her into a pensive 
 mood ; and although she remained in the room, she sat silent, 
 while her aunt and the laird thus learnedly discussed the case, 
 until, differing upon some legal point, they came, as usual, to 
 high words, which were, as usual, ended by the laird turning 
 the deaf side of his head towards his sister, and affecting to fall 
 asleep. 
 
 In the mean time, as Sir Andrew was standing ruminating 
 near the elm-tree, Lord Sandyford's coach, which, according to 
 the arrangement, had been sent to bring the party to Auchin- 
 ward, came up. • The servants on seeing him stopped, and he 
 walked towards it, and was immediately admitted. Absorbed 
 in his reflections, he neglected to tell them that it was unneces- 
 sary to go to The Place ; and their instructions being to bring 
 the family as well as him, they drove forward to the Craiglands, 
 and were at the door before he was aware of his inadvertency. 
 
 Miss Mizy had, on the rupture of her altercation, retired with 
 Mary to dress for dinner ; the laird in the morning had put him- 
 «elf in order for the visit— and she was sitting in full blow with 
 him when the carriage arrived. As there was no help for the 
 baronet but to explain how it happened that, notwithstanding 
 the message to the contrary, he had come in Lord Sandyford's 
 coach, he alighted, and was shown into the parlour. Neither 
 Craiglands nor his sister said any thing when they saw the 
 carriage stop ; but the former concluded in his own mind tliat 
 Sir Andrew's pretensions had been reinforced by his legacy, and 
 that he had come expressly to make proposals for Mary. Miss 
 Mizy had not actually arrived at the same conclusion ; but sh 
 thought it a very prideful incident that, after the message he 
 had received, he should have come, and come too in the ostenta- 
 tion of Lord Sandyford's splendid equipage. 
 
 1 he tenor of these reflections was not calculated to produce 
 any very urbane eflect on their countenances ; and our hero, on 
 entering the room, was daunted by the solemnity of his recep- 
 tion. Mary at this time was still engaged with her toilet; mi 
 
CHAPTER C.-THK GRIEF OP DISTANT RELATIONS. 431 
 
 inattention." sensible of my 
 
 ance .ha, „Uh„„. .gar. JftS"™ U "IfS Tatrt 
 
 nary .M„g_very-.ha. .here wasna *: v eVf?;""""""; 
 
 " I daresay if my poor friend had thoufflit anv of hi. . i *• 
 stood in a condition to re,uire the hette^g 7:loi:tZ 
 feathering, he would hae made provision to that pZ." , ! 
 Sir Andrew, surprised that they^houU be atLfso J^ 
 quainted with so much of the business ^ ^' '''" 
 
 "VVhawouldna be the better o' a share ii: sic a fortune v " 
 exclaimed the laird. " But «iJ«+o^ t • i. lortune f 
 
 whathas become of .hatdSng ■e'l^^t'Lr''' ."''"r 
 fcrcmost-and see if Mar/s ready"- ' '" ' "^'^ "■""' "'<" 
 
 The baronet, who had felt himself excited nlmr... . .. ■. 
 
 »f indignation, both by the matter and , l^er of ,h S"^' 
 
 conversation, underwent a transition to a tZr J ate 'ft r 
 
 .a earing that Mary was expected toaeeomp n/Ler ftthrrand 
 
 ami; and when she soon after appeared with .irheTcH-", 
 
 i,x:re:ir:fth'=;:t:;— rir-""' '^^^^ 
 
 a«, ..e eon^d no. refrain from'^rnThr'^etTa: h': wt 
 
 i 
 
432 
 
 SIB ANDREW WTLIE. 
 
 deprived of the pleasure of her company in Lord Sandyford'a 
 coach. 
 
 The laird, assisted by him and one of the earl's servants, was 
 raised into the carriage, while IJell Lampit and the other maids 
 were seen peeping from out the doors of the rooms that opened 
 into the hall. Daft Jamie, who had been all the morning loit- 
 ering about The Place, stood aloof while the embarkation was 
 going on; but when he saw Lord Sandyford's spruce footman 
 leap up behind the coach after closing the door on Sir Andrew, 
 he stepped forward, and as Robin began to lash his horses, crying, 
 " Jee, brutes ! " he took the similar station at the back of the 
 laird's carriage, amidst the laughter of the servants; Bell Lampit 
 coming forward from her concealment, extravagantly clapping 
 her hands. 
 
 CHAPTER CL 
 
 LADIES WITHOUT GENTLEMEN. 
 
 Lord Sandtfobd happened to be walking on the lawn in front 
 of the house, with Sir Archibald, when the coach arrived ; and, 
 surprised to find it had brought only our hero, felt something 
 like the sense of a rebuke when he saw him alight with a visible 
 expression of thoughtfulness in his countenance, the eflfect of his 
 reflections on the occurrences of the morning. For although 
 Sir Andrew was c6nvinced, by the appearance of Mary Cunning- 
 ham, that he had nothing to apprehend from any attachment to 
 Pierston, there was something in the behaviour both of the laird 
 and Miss Mizy, that revolted his feelings, even while it was 
 ludicrous. 
 
 The earl went immediately to enquire how it had happened 
 that he came alone, which the baronet brietly explained, by stat- 
 ing, that the laird finding himself well enough to visit, had 
 ordered out his own carriage before the coach arrived. He then 
 mentioned to his lordship the news which he had received of 
 
Lord Sandyford'3 
 
 arl's servants, was 
 id the other maids 
 rooms that opened 
 the morning loit- 
 I embarkation was 
 'g spruce footman 
 lor on Sir Andrew, 
 I his horses, crying, 
 at tlio back of the 
 rants; BellLampit 
 ivagantly clapping 
 
 on the lawn in front 
 joach arrived ; and, 
 ero, felt something 
 alight with a visible 
 tice, the effect of his 
 ing. For although 
 B of Mary Cunning- 
 I any attachment to 
 »ur both of the laird 
 I even while it was 
 
 )W it had happened 
 y explained, by stat- 
 iiough to visit, had 
 h arrived. He then 
 he had received of 
 
 CHAPTER CI.— LADIES WITHOUT GENTLEMEN. 433 
 
 Pierston's death, warmly eulogizing the gratitude by which his 
 friend seemed to have been actuated. 
 
 "But " said he, "I can see that his legacy to me will not rive 
 it • A Th 'T 'T.'"'- ' ^^^^ ^«---' 'i«- -y duty " 
 
 keZto l^ik" ^«™7«'".«^d his lordship; "you should have 
 t'Lml W" ""' ' ^""' Craiglands'prejudices-at lea.t 
 
 • ^fu *^^y7«^« *h"s conversing, being in the meP- time 
 jomed by Sir Archibald, the laird's equipage made iTs appear- 
 ance ,,, j,„ 1^ ^j^„^ ^^^ p^^. p/ j^i^^i2: 
 
 ra:geia,hxng with might and main his stubborn cattl, whUe 
 daft Jamie, apmg the consequentiulity of a footman, was s^nd' 
 ing behmd the carriage. The appearance of the wl o7e p^eL. 
 
 Si^ i:rhT;''^"t^^°"^^ ^°"™"«^' *^^* ^^^^ the eaTand 
 
 Sir Archibald found themselves obliged to retire into the house 
 
 eaymg our hero, who had more command of his features to 
 
 assist the visiters to alight. ^<='«.iures, lo 
 
 The moment that Robin had effected a halt, Jamie iumped 
 down,^and with a grand air opened the door, aid puUeJ Twn 
 
 thZotJhter* ''^^' '''-'''" '''-' ''' ^-^' "How hast 
 "Ah, laird, they'll hae clear e'en and bent brows that'll see 
 sic a flunkey as ye had the day, Craiglands ! " 
 
 obslveitlr' *"' '''"' I;""' '" *^^ ^""'«« «^ *heir joumey, 
 observed that every person they passed on the road, stopped and 
 
 ^::^^B:^t^''' ^elt strangely awkward, not Lowtg Ih 
 cause But the moment Jamie told the old gentleman the nart 
 he had performed, the laird seized his stick, and gaTh m such 
 a mp on the head that he sent him yelling'aerosftre W "' 
 111 flunkey thee !-to bring sic shame and disgrruo on the 
 like us," cned the laird, tt^ +u™ pp^-. . .? _ ^"® 
 
 — anee of Sir Andrew', a,™', .iftr^S^^hoTr 
 
 aughted. The baronet, not aware that he had been onlv n^oi 
 dentally unnoticed, felt considerably disturbed. wWn the'Si 
 
 21 
 
434 
 
 SIR ANDREW WTLIE. 
 
 with the intention of being gallant, turned his back on him, 
 and pushing his extended arm aside, thinking it was a servant's, 
 handed tlu ladies out himself. 
 
 "This is a little too much," said he to himself; and he walked 
 away, half resolved at the moment to give up every thought of 
 a connexion by which his endurance was likely to be so severely 
 tried. But his anger was never at any time of long duration, 
 and before he had walked twenty paces the fume of the moment 
 had evaporated, and, with a malicious playfulness, he resolved, 
 since the laird was determined to treat him with so little cere- 
 mony, that he would retaliate. Accordingly, on going into 
 the drawing-room where the whole party w ^ assembled, after 
 paying his respects to Lady Margaret, he addressed himself to 
 the countess for a moment, who was sitting on a sofa with Mary 
 Cunningham, and immediately entered into conversation with 
 Lord Sandyford, without further at that time noticing either 
 Cralglands or Miss Mizy. 
 
 In taking places at the dinner-table, he hesitated for a mo- 
 ment whether to concede the left hand of Lady Margaret to 
 the laird ; but before he had decided, her ladyship with a signi- 
 ficant look said, " Sir Andrew, it is your place,"— and he stepped 
 forward as if to take it; but turning round to the old gentleman, 
 who was confounded at finding himself of a lower note than 
 Martha Docken's oye, he said, " Age and antiquity, laird, ye 
 ken, are honours that time can alone bestow. The king may 
 make a belted knight, but he canna an ancient I'lmily— so, out 
 of my respect for yours, I'll gie up my place." 
 
 The laird thus uncouthly preferred, sat down in a rtate of 
 profound perplexity, while Sir Andrew placed himself between 
 the countess and Mary.— But nothing surprised the old gentle- 
 man so nmch as the ease and confidence with which the baronet 
 conducted himself, contrasted with the diflidence of his beha- 
 viour on the preceding day at the Cralglands. 
 Miss Mizy had by this time in a great measure recovered 
 
 from thfi irnnrpeeion of TVTioo T>,-.^n.-.y p:„1,a_'„ i_ii __j 
 
 hero soon ingratiated himself again into her good graces by 
 some of those little table civilities, which, with ladies of a cer- 
 tain age, indeed of all ages— have the most agreeable influence; 
 
CHAPTER CI.-LAWi:S WITHOL'T GENTLEm^^. 435 
 
 SO that, when she retired after dinner to tho Hra™ • 
 -a^intheeuIo,.on..i.do;^:^::^^^ 
 
 been able to behave hims.!' souZnl f """"'^ '^''* ^^''^ 
 
 " Indeed I " replied Udy ^ani vfoj" r" '^ '^ '"^•" 
 sidered not .or/a .an o'f tS thin ./dX^^r '^ ""■ 
 Iianties serve to give a zest to his h , noar " ^' ' P''"" 
 
 1 am surprised," added Lady \l^r^a^.^ u,u„, , ^ , 
 have retained his Seottish accent' :t^^ay ^ " '^'^"^' 
 
 It seems to me," rejoined the co J.t ..; ul „ , . ^„ ^ 
 day than usual; but, indeed, he annpaV / , "^^^ *°" 
 
 his national affections upon S; ^'^ ^^^^ cherished 
 prised were we to discover tL;^ • ^''"''^ "°* '" ^ur- 
 terested him-!C mL, ct """^ ""'^^ ^^'"'^'^^^ ^^^^y^"' 
 thing of the kindli^^^ f ^"" ^^^^ ^'-^ -7 
 
 reply, the countess fSeS^^" We h 'r V^""^^^ 
 
 eare, "he would Lg „ e i'T.utr; "'" "^ *'"'■ 
 is too sensible a man' noHo b. :^:^1C,Z:'' ' '"' "' 
 woman of his own original condition onf nfK ^° " ^™"«^ 
 place her in that to wllh l, k u- °' """ 'P''™' """i to 
 promote the,; m^j'Cw """* "^^"' " »"' '''"^ '» 
 
 I sho!lirL»t'lTr^^^^^ 7"' «•»"■ "'■a. I have observed, 
 some very dEentobL 1'"™"' ■»"« have been toward 
 WraL alnn't^rnVZSp^"""'"*'-' ""- f-'" 
 
 eon^JZ:.."!;: ^Pli'edtl ™n?' '^17' '"•'' ""'"« '""' 
 passing in her mind 1° Ue " ° ; ■" ^^, 'f'™^^ "'"" ™ 
 aafwe. ■' He waa alw^^rr^yiirr^n^"'^''--^ °' '"^ 
 
 "nftltrherS'^^sf/ T^'^S'" °° »'-"'"« *« 
 
 w«ie,xwon,d„rb:4trrt';:::?.rMt°^f 
 
 ijil 
 
436 
 
 SIR ANDREW WTLIE. 
 
 How 
 
 Mary, 
 
 , , - ^ , reddening extremely, 
 
 «.iii looking as if afraid to look. 
 
 "Have you any reason for that notion, Miss Mizy?" said 
 Lady Margaret seriously ; and before the aunt had time to 
 reply, the countess added, — 
 
 "If the attachment was mutual, I should have some hope of 
 enjoying a Scottish wedding soon. Nay, my dear Miss Cun- 
 ningham," said her ladyship, addressing Mary, who was sitting 
 beside her, while she at the same time took her by the hand, 
 " Sir Andrew is an excellent creature ; and supposing for a mo- 
 ment that there were any foundation for what we have been 
 saying, how would you like to be called Lady Wylie ?" 
 
 " Oh, she'll ne'er be that wi' Sir Andrew ! " cried Miss Mizy 
 triumphantly; "for she ne'er could endure to hear a good word 
 said o' him." 
 
 "I should think," replied Mary, with some degree of firmness, 
 "that I did him injustice if I had not fully acknowledged his 
 merits, though I did not acquiesce in all that my aunt chose to 
 say. But it could never enter ray head to imagine that he 
 would address me as a lover." 
 
 "How could you? he has been so long absent, you can have 
 seen but little of each other," said the countess. 
 
 "True; and perhaps from that cause I am less sensible of his 
 merits than those who have seen more of him," replied Mary. 
 
 "It's our Mary's fortune to refuse good offers," interposed 
 Miss Mizy. 
 
 "Good offers!" said Mary indignantly-" yes, the offers that 
 you and my father call good, but which no woman of any deli- 
 cacy would have listened to for a moment." 
 
 "1 perceive that we are carrying this subject too far" said 
 the countess. 
 
 "Not at all," replied Mary with dignity; "why should I hesi- 
 tate to say to you. ladyship, that I have seen few ^en of whom 
 I know so little, that I respect more than the little baronet?" 
 and she added laughingly, "I aever could think of him but as 
 the droll creature Wheelie." 
 
 " vVhom you assisted to learn fifty psalms behind a tomb- 
 stone," replied the countess archly. 
 
dening extremely, 
 
 liss Mizy?" said 
 lunt had time to 
 
 lave some hope of 
 ' dear Miss Cun- 
 Y, who -was sitting 
 her by the hand, 
 pposing for a mo- 
 lat we have been 
 Wylie?" 
 
 ' cried Miss Mizy 
 hear a good word 
 
 legree of firmness, 
 icknowledged his 
 my aunt chose to 
 imagine tliat he 
 
 Qt, you can have 
 
 s. 
 
 !ss sensible of his 
 
 ' replied Mary. 
 
 ffers," interposed 
 
 !S, the offers that 
 man of any deli- 
 ct too far," said 
 
 hy should I hesi- 
 
 iw vxQn of whom 
 
 little baronet?" 
 
 ik of him but as 
 
 behind a tomb- 
 
 CHAPTEE Cir.— THE COMPACT. 437 
 
 Mary was startled at the observation, and the look with which 
 It was accompanied. "uicii 
 
 for" from 'rL'^^l^ ^'^''''* J°*^°'"^^> ' " '^^' ^^is is idle talk ; 
 fl:^ ? A ?^ ^'''^' ^''"^" ^"^ 'Obvious prejudices, any olTe; 
 from Sir Andrew would not be very acceptable." ^ 
 
 Acceptable here or acceptable there, ye ken Leddv Mar 
 garet," was Miss Mizy's reply, " that the \L is a man hafca." 
 
 th^fnff' r/' *T'^^' ^"'^ ^^«"^^ ^*-- "- king hts" 
 that offered, he wouldna tak the pains to enquire about the fit- 
 ness o^ the match, but just be as dure as a door-nail, whichever 
 way the thmg gaed with his humour at the time." ^''''''^^'' 
 
 "miS'/^r';!,'"^"'"? ^" ^"y ^"^'''" ^^J«^°«d the countess, 
 might have the most beneficial effects." 
 
 f J'5 ^7 ^'''P''', f ^" ""^'^ ^'^ "^^^ ^° ^ffe"-' and Mary willing 
 the wedding would just hae to go on without consent, for thJ 
 kird would come in til't or a' was done," said Miss Mi^y. 
 
 ^^^::^t:^^' - ^-^ P-' - - «^> 
 
 lltIZ T" ''^tI ^^' ^'^^ " ^^ ^"^''"^^ has so kithed 
 into the great man I always thought he would be, that I freely 
 
 ZLn • ' " '' ""^ "^'^^' "'^"^^ '^ -« b« - great satis- 
 ^TflkinT: mS.^^^^^'^^ Mary laughing, "this is one 
 
 CHAPTER CII. 
 
 THE COMPACT. 
 
 of I^nih *^' ^"'^'''' ^'"' ^'"™ "'^ ''^^^'•^'"^ ^hich the presence 
 
 01 the other sex fiv^p irnnn=oo on ^h^ <.• ^ i^'caciite 
 
 I,- , „ , "I ^ ^^ '•"e conversation of all woman- 
 
 kind, were furthering the decrees of fate in the drawing-Zm 
 
 u f^""«'°-;^*h-r wine were no less ingeniously woS 
 
 out he same desired effects. Sir Archibald was a hospitablf 
 
 landlord, according to the Scottish acceptation of the term and 
 
438 
 
 SIR ANDREW WTilE, 
 
 
 as the laird had a hereditary respect for what he called the 
 sociable bottle, his spirits began to mount, and he joked with 
 our hero on his great good-luck, enquiring what for he hadna 
 brought an English lady with him. 
 
 " They say, Sir Andrew, ye hae gotten a gude bargain o' the 
 Wyhe estate, and ye should mak some bonny lassie the better 
 o't." 
 
 "I think so too," observed Sir Archibald, "and I'm sure he 
 could not do better than make up to your daughter, Craiglands;" 
 and before the laird had time to reply, he added, addressing 
 himself to the earl, "I wish, my lord, we could persuade our 
 friend to look that way. It is true, his rank is equal to my own, 
 and that Lady Margaret is the sister of a duke ; but the Craig- 
 :ands family is highly respectable. I beg your pardon, Sir 
 Andrew, I have p-rhaps taken too great a liberty in this jocular 
 proposal." 
 
 "Oh!" said Lord Sandyford, ''if you knew Sir Andrew as 
 well as I do, you would not lay so much stress en the disparity 
 of rank ; no man can set less, nor at the same time a more jus"t 
 value upon it. Pray, Mr Cunningham, was your father in par- 
 liament ? " " f 
 
 Craiglands' spirits, which had previously been rising, had 
 undergone a strange depression by these observations; and the 
 accent and look with which he answered " No," to the earl's 
 question, almost upset tho gravity of the whole conspirators. 
 
 "Perhaps, however," resumed the earl, "your grandfather 
 was ? " 
 
 The laird was still more mortified when obliged to repeat the 
 negative. 
 
 _ " That's very extraordinary," said his lordship, as if drawing 
 himself up into his nobility. 
 
 The laird found himself sinking, as it were, into the swinidh 
 multitude, i.ecially when Sir Arrhibald added, " I do not 
 recollect, Craiglands, at this moment, if any of your ancestors 
 were baronets." 
 
 "Never mind, laird, whether they were or no," cried Sir 
 Andrew, who perceived that the joke had been carried quite far 
 enough— "I'll no object to Miss Mary on that account But I 
 
what he called the 
 :, and he joked with 
 J what for he hadna 
 
 gude bargain o' the 
 my lassie the better 
 
 i, " and I'm sure he 
 ighter, Craiglands;" 
 e added, addressing 
 could persuade our 
 is equal to my own, 
 ike ; but the Craig- 
 : your pardon, Sir 
 berty in this jocular 
 
 lew Sir Andrew as 
 ess en the disparity 
 le time a more just 
 your father in par- 
 
 '■ been rising, had 
 ervations ; and the 
 Wo," to the earl's 
 le conspirators, 
 'your grandfather 
 
 liged to repeat the 
 
 hip, as if drawing 
 
 ', into the swinicsh 
 dded, " I do not 
 of your ancestors 
 
 )r no," cried Sir 
 1 carried quite far 
 ; account But I 
 
 CHAPTER on.— THE COMPACT. 439 
 
 "8" mat an old majden aunt should be arerae in .„ i. 
 niece promoted lo a hfehw rant tl,„„ 1, [ "* ""^ 
 
 baronet is not i„ earnest X„h '" '' ''"' "'^ly *« 
 
 ham is subject ,o ay Itrol from S'^' "^ ""' ''"""'"«- 
 disposal of liis dauX^r ,K T^ ■ '""■ "'* ™1»>' '» 'i>e 
 imrgined •• ■"""'^'"'"-'h^ th.ng is not for a moment to be 
 
 Cunninl "'^Sniont the emphasis of his asseveration-" Marv 
 'a.d^waretued"'""^'"' '" ^"''*""> "">■" ">» Craig. 
 
 migh?succtl'r '' "' '"'' "'" "■"• '^'""^ -*' h-self 
 ;;Whato' that?- cried the laird quicHy. 
 
 Wy to plaee^obSl,' hX7Ss7u™'"h' '"^ "'" 
 
 u^^tn "haHf S '°^ "■ •" "-""'"-y -"ts have 
 father. Wer" Ir lu' ;""»-"f 7 Ijing even before her 
 
 lady .night be MuceJ h„ .""' '"""^ «""'• "-^ "M 
 
 oF'the wZr" :'°'"'"«™«>'' "'" i" 'h- casualties and'foilie." 
 
 VI 
 
440 
 
 SIE ANDEEW WTLIE. 
 
 wV,n V f ^t'nl,'^*'™"'"'^ "* ^"^^ «^ *h« &«°««"^en Present 
 while Sir Archibald, with a countenance expressive of the mos 
 
 alarming sagacity, said, "That accounts for it-that accoun 
 
 for ,t No one ever before could give a satisfactory reason Thy 
 
 a gent eman, like my friend Craiglands here, shoufd have kepi 
 
 his only daughter and heiress so long in such a state of secL 
 
 sion; bu none of us were aware that xMiss Mizy might have 
 
 Tuu: 1 7T f- P-enting the young lady LmVimtg 
 a suitable matrimonial connexion." 
 
 "De'il tak me! " exclaimed the laird, "but I'm thinking ye hae 
 made a true guess, for I ne'er could get to the bottom'' my 
 ister s objections to this young man and to that. When wZ 
 there a more proper match than Tarn Delap o' Southenan thlt^ 
 heir the whole tot o' his uncle's land and gatherings ? and 1 
 gart the poor simple lassie true he was little better tlan siHy -! 
 
 " wt' u ^"f '"' J "'^^^ '' "^'^'^ b"* «P- Mary's p c'eV" 
 
 "With all my heart," cried our hero. 
 
 "Then gie's your hand, and a bargain be't, gin ye find her 
 willing,'' cried the laird; and with that, stretching oul irLud 
 he shook our hero's heartily. Upon which Sir Archibald in 
 sisted that a fresa bottle should be opened, to drink success to ^ 
 courtship so sanctioned; but as it wafnot the policy o^t ' L ied 
 powers to aUow the laird time to revoke his pledge,'^the e "rf o^^ 
 after proposed that they should join the ladies. 
 ^ rhe laird, elevated by the wine, and the valorous sense of the 
 independence he had shown, entered the drawing-room with a 
 triumphant countenance, but somewhat unsteady in hTs steps 
 and with h s hands stretched out as if he was gro^ng h s way 
 
 « Wnat's settled ?" cried Miss Mizy 
 
 kali "It.!^ wt' f .'^' ""'^ ^^""'^ ^^""^ '^y "P« ^" other folks' 
 kail,_ retorted the laird ; and ho added exultin^lv.-" Leddi... 
 •^0 ,.c kcu cnat me and Sir Andrew hae made a "paction in nre^ 
 
 between us, that hes to mak my dochter, Mary Cunningham, 
 
CHAPTBE Cin.-AN ACCIDENT. 441 
 
 fte tofter-,haf! the ^ayTo™ " ^° ""^ "■"'' ""'' ^^"'^ ™ 
 
 Jj;:rs«eKnx:i*:rer- -^ *^'- c„„. 
 
 proposed, tc her aunt ZZ ■ ^"^^^^^^^s^ent, rose and 
 should return home 'tL.! '"'""^ ^'^ ^"^ ^P^°*' *^^* *hey 
 and, in the JZoul^ ZnZ\r' "''"''"^^^ «^^«-^' 
 were at the door. ''' '' ""^^ ^^^ounced that they 
 
 jentleman'is es.- 
 
 CHAPTER cm. 
 
 AN ACCIDEST. 
 
 liae a lang road before us ; but I'm feart ZlU^Z' ■ t^l ° 
 the breadtn thaa the leuglh o't " ^ """ ""' "' 
 
 pJrrh'i^JJn""";' ^"- Arehttald's servants, RoWn was 
 !! !!u.' .,,r ° '.' - ^' *"■ ""« do-na-gude, lk.,i„, ru fe, v„„ 
 
 ^«=:iX,:Zet,^------i^ 
 
442 
 
 SIB ANDREW WYJLIE. 
 
 
 
 Our hero, however, and the servants, saT.d her from *W 
 pressure of hi. .eight; and after some effort r.i h ^^^ 
 Vigorous shove, and pushes, he was raised inf. hi. sea. Z 
 inarticulate growl, intended for the c. :toma', '• Jee. brut..?" 
 
 prold "' " ''"""''^ '''' ^''''' ^^^* '*^^' -■' ^-« ^-« t« 
 
 ' Sir Andrew, appivbonsive, fro... the state of the charioteer 
 
 ^a some accident n.^,ht ensu., directed Lord Sa.dv^rd's^^ 
 
 to s f 7 ' "'' '1"'^ "'^' ^'"' '^' -^'^- ^^^ '^^ ^- readiness 
 to ,a.s!^t. Nor was th:. precautioa unnec<^ssary; far, as dnft 
 Jamie pn.t.cted, the breadth of the road :o n oublli H^in, ^ 
 he carnago went for^vard, tacking from side to sido lik. u ^ssj 
 ...a ..^ a^an.st tho wiad-at every change of the zigzag dri^^S 
 
 na^ .r.l pl„^,e, It missed stays; and, but ^.r the sagacity of 
 th. .rates' lu backing, in spite of Robin's whip, the whoL 
 concrn wou^d assuredly have been cast away i^ the toT 
 However under that special providence which the proverb says 
 guams all persons in the situation of this worti. coachman th 
 am.Iy were enabled to pass the Girdle in safety; but opp^sUe 
 he south gate of Eglinton, Robin seemed to hesUate, a 'fa a 
 loss whether to take the Stanecastle road, or to proce d straigh 
 forward-a circumstance which surprised his nutter, who sakl 
 justly, that, had he been in his sober senses, he oughUo h^e 
 known the road better, and ordered him to go on to Irvine 
 
 the Zr'* ^if "' Mizy judiciously protested-affirming in 
 the most reasonable manner, that it would be a disgrace to them 
 for ever to pass through the town with such a pirlft of a drive" 
 Accordingly, at her suggestion, Robin was commanded by the 
 laird with many vituperative epithets, such as, "I'll learn vou 
 
 from the Bullet-road to the Dinton-knowe ; by which the family 
 were .p.^ed from the gibes and jeers of the observant inhabitant! 
 ot the ancient royal burgh. 
 
 Still all went well, and the evening was beautiful. A« th.v 
 drove aowa the Kilwinning road, the gentle feaiures^of'the 
 scenery on the right were rendered still more ^ ing by the 
 softening medium of a slight aerial haze ; and tl iUng hills 
 
 .:Am 
 
savi'd hor from the 
 ffort, with iheir niore 
 !d into liii £i>ai-„ An 
 •ma^j '• Jee, orut«-ji' 
 hat th('j were free to 
 
 Xe of the charioteer, 
 jord Saiidyibrd's pp)- 
 lei* 10 be in readiness 
 cessary; for, as diit 
 frcubled Kobin, .hat 
 etc sidolikfc a vessel 
 of the zigzag driving 
 once, to use another 
 ^:>r the sagacity of 
 ti's whip, the whole 
 a^vay in the ditch. 
 ich the proverb says 
 or thy coachman, the 
 safety ; but opposite 
 hesitate, as if at a 
 ' to proceed straight 
 is nia<!ter, who said 
 s, he ought to have 
 o go on to Irvine, 
 ested— affirming, in 
 s a disgrace to them 
 a pirlet of a driver, 
 commanded by the 
 as, " I'll learn you 
 ■ wynd which leads 
 y which the family 
 servant inhabitants 
 
 eautiful. As thev 
 le features of the 
 •e j: leg by the 
 It! , iUng hills 
 
 CHAPTEK Cni.— AN ACCIDENT. 443 
 
 in front beyond the woods of Eglinton, as they rose in the sober 
 hyery of he twilight, seemed to assume an abrupt and moun 
 ounous character ; while dark masses of cloud, inte,.ning"L 
 with hoary mists like the steaming vapours of a volcano, cove el 
 the summits of Goatfield, and gave it the appearance o M unt 
 ..tna, which zt so much resembles in form and outline B^ 
 cmr travellers were not long permitted to contemplate the cflS 
 shU beauties of the summer evening. Just as Rob n crossed 
 the Redburn bndge, by some unlucky and unguarded pJof 
 the reins, one of the horses gave a sudden plunje, and the car- 
 nage was overturned in the hedge. 
 
 The ladies were speedily extricated, but the poor laird was 
 hf^d out insensible. He, however, soon recovered, Ld "t fir 
 It did not appear he had received any material injury , but on 
 being conveyed home with the ladies and the baroneVin Lo" 
 
 rtht'S'h- ' "i'"'"'""^ '^ '^^^P^^'"^^ '' something no 
 
 mfrcifrithinrh^r^i^"''' '''^"^' ^"^^^^'•' *hat it wfs a 
 
 merciful thing his head was so strong as to withstand the dunt 
 
 that stunned him in the couping. 
 Sir Andrew advised the ladies to send for a doctor, but this 
 
 he old gentleman would not permit; for, among his other pre- 
 judices and affections, he nourished a dislike ^to the fecul t 
 declanng that "since doctors had learned to keep counts lik^ 
 shopkeepers, when they get a man ill they hae as naturd an 
 interest to keep him ill as the wabsters and Outers n" he health 
 and well-doing o' their customers." The better to colour ts 
 
 epugnance to send for Doctor Atomy, the medical friend of the 
 family, he affected to make light of his hurt, by exerting a del ee 
 of energy and activity preternatural to hi^ character Irfl^ 
 course of the night, however, he felt himself osr^sly Led 
 that he was obliged to raise the house ^ ^ 
 
 In the mean time our hero, who had retired to his grand- 
 
 th r Het "'":r^ ' .^"^ '''^"^^^^^ - *^- -fn -f 
 ine (lay. He saw, m the caprice and pr«|!„|;.p„ „^ .i._ , . , 
 
 -~y ingredient, calc„la.ed .„ en,bi. Ja' cenn J*n';;rht' 
 fcnnly; nor was he altogether satMed with the eoM and studied 
 «>er.e w,lh which Mary had treated him after dinner Lthl 
 drawng-room. His experience of the world h,rf 'ZZZZ 
 
 ^■^ m 
 
 n -^ihm 
 
444 
 
 SIR ANDREW WTLIE. 
 
 him in the devices of the female heart, and he was not aware 
 that the very same demeanour which checked and repressed 
 his ardour, and which made him doubt whether he ought even 
 to disclose to her his long attachment, would, to a man more 
 accustomed to the innocent wiles of womankind, have been 
 regarded as the most encouraging symptom. In a word, he 
 began to suspect that he had been betrayed by the influence of 
 early recollections into a fond folly, and to think that, perhaps, 
 the wisest step he could take would be to abandon his intention 
 at once. 
 
 Why he should have given way to such reflections as these, 
 especially as the obstacles hitherto opposed to his desires had 
 been so greatly lessened in the course of the day, must, we 
 imagine, be ascribed to the circumstances and vacillations of 
 the lovers' lunacy. Certain it is that he fell asleep, after almost 
 working himself into a persuasion that he ought not to think of 
 irremediably uniting himself with a stock so knotted and knarled 
 with obsolete prejudices as that of Craiglands; and that he 
 awoke in the morning with the most delightful anticipatiohs, as 
 if, during sleep, his mind had unconsciously reasoned itself back 
 again into a more congenial way of thinking. He was perfectly 
 persuaded that the laird, with all his faults and foibles, was in 
 the main a man possessed of many of the homely virtues that 
 befits the character of a resident landlord. 
 
 Immediately after breakfast, he accordingly walked to The 
 Place for the purpose of explaining to Mary the motives of his 
 visit to Scotland; but on entering the parlour he found only 
 Miss Mizy. "I fear," said she, "that my brother has gotten 
 an inward injury, and we're a' sae concerned at the ill night he 
 has passed, that we hae sent for Doctor Atomy to come imme- 
 diately to see him." The baronet expressed his sorrow, and as 
 the lady told us herself, " he sympathized in a feeling manner, 
 that showed both his great judgment and sensibility." 
 
 Marv. in the mean time, was attendinar her father, and ner- 
 haps, under the circumstances, her lover might that morning 
 have left the house without seeing her, but for Bell Lampit, who 
 now foresaw, by so many signs of intercourse and growing cor- 
 diality, that a wedding would ensue, and could not resist her 
 
CHAPTEE Cni. — AN ACCIDENT. 
 
 was not aware 
 . and repressed 
 ' he ought even 
 to a man more 
 ind, have been 
 
 In a word, he 
 the influence of 
 k that, perhaps, 
 on his intention 
 
 ctions as these, 
 his desires had 
 day, must, we 
 [ vacillations of 
 3ep, after almost 
 ; not to think of 
 ;ted and knarled 
 s; and that he 
 mticipatiohs, as 
 oned itself back 
 [e was perfectly 
 [ foibles, was in 
 ely virtues that 
 
 walked to The 
 J motives of his 
 
 he found only 
 ther has gotten 
 the ill night he 
 to come imme- 
 
 sorrow, and as 
 feeling manner, 
 ility." 
 
 father, and per- 
 t that morning 
 ell Lampit, who 
 id growing cor- 
 i not resist her 
 
 445 
 
 desire to inform Miss Cunningham that the baronet was in the 
 house. 
 
 "What's your will, Miss Mary?" said Bell, looking in at the 
 door of the laird's room, as if she had been really summoned. 
 
 " I did not ring— it must have been my aunt," was the reply. 
 
 "Na, ca. Miss Mary, she has other fish to fry!" exclaimed 
 Bell in an audible whisper, stepping forward into the room with 
 long tiptoe strides, using her arms and hands as if they had been 
 wings to lighten her footfalls—" She's wi' Sir Andrew!" 
 
 "What's that tinkler tawpy doing here?" 
 
 "Eh! megsty, maister! I thought ye were soun' sleeping; 
 hoo're ye the day, after the dreadful coup. Robin has gotten an 
 awful cloor on the broo ; we think his harnpan's surely dunklet " 
 
 " An I were at thee I would hoo're thee : out o' my presence 
 this moment! De'il an the like of that hizzy was e'er in ony 
 creditable family ! " exclaimed the laird. 
 
 "O maister!" retorted the learned Bell, "ye should thole 
 better— a man struggling with calamity is a sight worthy of the 
 gods ! " "^ 
 
 Mary was obliged to laugh at this mal -appropriation of one of 
 henecas conceits, while, at the same time, she ordered Bell to 
 leave the room. 
 
 " Ye see, Mary, my dear," said the old gentleman, « what it is 
 to exceed the bounds of edication, for it's no to be doubted that 
 too much learning has made yon lassie mad as well as the apostle 
 l-aul. The heads of the commonality are, in my opinion, not of 
 a capacity to take in muckle mair than the plain truths o' Scrip- 
 ture and the Mothers' Carritches. The Question-book's ouer 
 kittle for the best o' them ; I, mysel', never got farther than ' No 
 mere man.' " 
 
 The laird was proceeding in this way to give his opinion on 
 the popular subject of general education, his fever disposing him 
 to become talkative, when Miss Mizy entered. 
 
 ;'Mary,^' said the old lady significantly, " ye'll gang doun the 
 stair a, ,: entertain Sir Andrew, and I'll bide wi' your father till 
 the doctor comes." 
 
 "Doctor!" vociie,aitd the laird-" Wha the deevil has sent 
 for the doctor to me? They had a stock o' impudence!-A doc- 
 
446 
 
 SIB ANDREW WYLIE. 
 
 tor to a bit birz, that I'll soon no be a prln the waiir o'. I hae 
 nae broo o' doctors ; for though they may learn at the college to 
 haggle iff a sair leg, or to howk out a rotten tooth, they ken as 
 little about complaints in the stomach as a loch-leech, and no 
 sae muckle; for the leech, poor tiiuig-, has n natural knowledge 
 o' what it's about, and seeks nae fee but a pickle saut on it's neb, 
 and a drap caller water in a bottle. Nane o' the droguery nor 
 the roguery o' doctors for me." 
 
 "" Brother, ye're maunnering," said Miss Mizy, Mary having 
 in the mean time left the room. " I wish ye would be still and 
 compose yonrsel', and no fash your head with sic clishmaclavers." 
 "Whar's Mary,?" cried the laird; " I would rather hae her 
 here than thee ; for she's o' a mild and a meek nature, the which 
 is a blessed inheritance, as Mr Symington said on Sunday, and 
 worthy of all acceptation ; whereas there be those of a worldly 
 grain and substance, coarse to heckle, and ill to card, and need- 
 ing monya rug and i.ve by the powerfu' hand of chr;; ement, 
 before their souls are wrought into garments o' praise." 
 
 ' Brother," said Mis? Mizy kindly, struck by the growing 
 incoherency of the old gentleman, " I dout ye're waur than vc 
 let wit." 
 
 " I'm unco dry," was the answer. " It's a wonder o' iir.ture, 
 th&u the mair a body drinks he aye grows the drier ; but Sir 
 Archibald's claret was of a fine quiility; and really yon Sir 
 Andrew'- a comicol creatur —I trow I gart the perjink English 
 yerl laug: . \fheu x said tha. Sir Andr. w would never be able tr. 
 kiss our Mary, unless he could speel up and get his taes in her 
 pouches. It'? rny fear that their bairns will be sic wee modi- 
 warts o' thi igs, that when th uj begin to leftle about the house, 
 we'll hae to tie bells to their backs to hear whar *l:ey gaijg, un- 
 I'm thinking they'll be runnin" la aneath the beds. 'Odsake, 
 but I would be blithe to 'see the wee totties spinning about the 
 floor like peeries." 
 
 " I beg," said his si , , v an accent of anxiety and grief. 
 " that you will try to «.eep yuursel' quiet. It's no right to 
 indulge sic vagaries." 
 
 "Arena they my ain grandchilder ! " exclaimed '.e laird. 
 " Would ye hae me as void o' naturality for them as you, that's 
 
 ^ *. 
 
CHAPTEE CIV—THE DEATH AND BUHIAI,. 447 
 
 V„ 7: ,1 f "'^ *° ^^^^'^''^ ^°'- a hobbyhorse to Willv 
 cause hes ca'd baith for n.e and n,y aln poorVilly thafd S 
 of his woun.ls. Many a sore hour o^ suffering he had • but h« 
 was a bravo md wi' a leal heart. His wound wasna on he bact 
 
 The poor old man's paternal feelings overcame him, and he 
 ^ jeepmgwith a childish fondness and simplicity, iU Mis 
 Mizy, una.'e any longer to control h, ipprehensions at th! 
 
 CHAPTER CIV. 
 
 THE DEATH AMD nuRlAI,. 
 
 When • ^^^ Mizy entered the parlour, she disturbed herniece 
 He ht „:;::: ^" the middle of a very interesting conversation! 
 ne nacl not act., fallen on his knees before the adored obiect 
 
 wouldr' h" ' u ""' " *'^ °°^«"«*« «f *he feminine gender 
 would describe a heroine similarly situated ; but, after advS. 
 ^0 he occurrences of the preceding day, he w^ advancing J 
 rapidly towards a disc bsure of the wisl, n^nroof i,- u ^ 
 
 of her heart-a smooth rolling swell and undulation oHhe 3 "rk 
 which a httle more vehe .ence in her lover might have hC 
 
 She ha/rionVT '" i^^^onnancc in a declaration of love. 
 
 Pleasure ft ^"^^ ^'"^'"^ "^ ^«"<^«''' tended with 
 
 ra wluch had now arrived. Every new instance of our 
 
448 
 
 SIR ANDREW WTLIE. 
 
 hero's advancement, as it came to her knowledge, contained, as 
 it were, an admonition of their predestinated union ; and this 
 prescn*' nent was never atTected by any of those saddening influ- 
 ences which the mystic sense and auguries of fatalism commonly 
 excite. The image of Wylie was associated in her imagination 
 with the bright and joyous days of childhood ; and his small 
 and ungainly figure was in her imagination so wreathed, if the 
 expression may be allowed, with the garlands of happy recol- 
 lections, that it was endeared to the eyes of habitual affection 
 with something more interesting than the advantages of personal 
 appearance. 
 
 " Mary," said her aunt, bursting hastily into the room, "it's 
 my opinion your father's gaun by himsel'." 
 
 Miss Cunningham, alarmed at the' news, started from her 
 seat and hurried up stairs. At the same moment Dr Atomy 
 arrived, and daft Jamie, who was lounging about the house, on 
 seeing the doctor alight, ran forward to hold his horse. 
 
 "Jamie," said the doctor, "is that you?" 
 
 "'Deed is't," replied Jamie, taking the bridle; "it's my ain 
 mother's son." 
 
 " And who is your mother, Jamie ?" rejoined the doctor. 
 
 " She's vera weel, I thank you, sir," was the answer; which 
 so discomposed the gravity of the doctor, that he came into the 
 parlour with a gayer countenance than suited the occasion, inso- 
 much that Miss Mizy put on a visage proportionally more solemn. 
 
 "My brother's vera ill, doctor," said she, "and Sir Andrew 
 Wylie— this is Sir Andrew— is just waiting to hear what ve 
 think o' him." ^ 
 
 " Is this the great Sir Andrew Wylie ?" exclaimed the doc- 
 tor, looking towards our hero, and bending forward with an 
 expression of amazement in his face, which gradually assumed 
 the cast of veneration, and, before the baronet had time to make 
 any reply, he went up to him and said, " What is your opinion. 
 Sir Andrew, of the late fall in the funds ?" 
 
 " Doctor," interposed Miss Mizy, " ye maunna enter on your 
 bad times just noo— gang first and see my brother ; and then ye 
 can come and converse wi' Sir Andrew about the breaking o' the 
 government." 
 
■ledge, contained, as 
 ted union; and tliis 
 ose saddening influ- 
 f fatalism commonly 
 I in her imagination 
 ood ; and his small 
 so wreathed, if the 
 nds of happy recol- 
 )f habitual affection 
 vantages of personal 
 
 into the room, " it's 
 
 s, started from her 
 moment Dr Atomy 
 about the house, on 
 [ his horse. 
 
 ridle ; " it's my ain 
 
 ined the doctor, 
 the answer; which 
 at he came into the 
 I the occasion, inso- 
 onally more solemn. 
 " and Sir Andrew 
 g to hear what ye 
 
 3xclaimed the doc- 
 j forward with an 
 gradually assumed 
 t had time to make 
 lat is your opinion, 
 
 inna enter on your 
 other; and then ye 
 the breaking o' the 
 
 CHAPTEE CIV.— THE DEATH AND nUBIAL. 
 
 449 
 
 The baronet, perceiving the solicitude of the old lady, in the 
 hopes that by a precise answer the doctor would the sooner go 
 to the patient, replied, that he considered the recent full a tem- 
 porary fluctuation. 
 
 " I am most happy to hear you think so! " exclaimed the doc- 
 tor, and was proceeding to enlarge on the subject, when Miss 
 Mizy again interrupted him. 
 
 "My brother," said she, " has met wi' a severe birz and con- 
 tusion, and he's in a roving fever." 
 
 " The fall has been considerable," rejoined the doctor, think- 
 ing of the funds. 
 
 '"Deed it was a mercy we werena a' killed outright," replied 
 Miss Mizy ; for the chaise made a clean whamnde, and the laird 
 was lowermost." 
 
 The doctor, still intent on his own topic, said to Sir Andrew, 
 " I trust, however, that the effects will not be T,ermanent. It is 
 melancholy to think how uncertain every thir-r is." 
 
 "Ye ne'er, doctor, made a wiser observe.' said Miss Mizy, 
 morally ; " for, after spending a most pleasant day at Auchin- 
 ward, wha could hae thought we would hae to dree so soon sic 
 a penance for our pleasure ? " 
 
 Dr Atomy looked round with a compassionate smile at Miss 
 Mizy, and then began to speak on the common popular topics of 
 the day to the baronet, who, not altogether pleased with his per- 
 tinacity, reminded him of the object of his visit. The doctor, 
 keep him free from "bad times," was an amiable and humane 
 character, and this admonition was effectual : he immediately 
 followed Miss Mizy to her brother's apartment. 
 
 To the first question which he put to the laird, the reply was 
 characteristic. 
 
 " I'm vera weel, doctor," said the patient—" ne'er was better ; 
 but there's a something I dinna understand wi' me, for a' that ; 
 and I'm fashed wi' strange folk ; crowds o' them come and sit 
 behind the curtains at my bed-hend, a:ul the de'il a ane of them 
 will speak out, and tell me their cracks ; but they continue whis- 
 pering and whispering, and hugger-muggering, as if they were 
 smuggling something awa'." 
 
 Both his sister and daughter, who were standing beside the 
 
 •^- 2 F 
 
 i 
 
 m 
 
450 
 
 SIR ANDREW WYLI£. 
 
 doctor, were much affected by this speech, and could not refrain 
 from tears ; for it was too evident, from the doctor's manner, 
 that there was then indeed something about to be removed. The 
 whisperings of which the dying man complained, were the voices 
 of those who had been sent to bear him from this mortal world. 
 
 The doctor having, as delicately as he could, expressed his 
 fears for the consequences of the injiiry which the old gentleman 
 had suffered, and having prescribed some simple medicine, rather 
 to uphold the character of the prolossion than with any hope of 
 doing the patient good, soon after reared, and Bell Lampit was 
 almost immediately dispatched to the manse, to request the 
 attendance of Mr Symington. 
 
 t Bell, who never tarried on her errands between one person 
 and another, met the minister walking leisurely by himself, on 
 the shady side of the high-road. 
 
 " Ye maun come up to The Place directly, sir," was her salu- 
 tation ; " for we're a' feared that the laird's vital spark's gaun out. 
 Miss Mary sent me wi' her compliments, to bid you come." 
 
 " I'm very sorry to hear this. — I understood his hurt was of 
 no consequence," replied the clergyman. 
 
 " 'Deed, sir," said Bell, " his life is just like the dying lamp's 
 unsteady flame. ' To be or not to be,' is the state of his pre- 
 cious soul ; so I hope ye'll no delay, for it will be a sad and a 
 sore thing if the laird's alloo't to jump the shoal o' time like the 
 beasts that perish." Aiid holding a jargon dialect of this sort, 
 Bell returned home with the minister ; but before reaching the 
 house the inflammation of the brain had so rapidly advanced, 
 that the patient was in no condition to receive the spiritual 
 physician. 
 
 In the course of the afternoon the violence of the symptoms 
 abated, and for several days the laird languished under the 
 evident decay of all his faculties. He was not, apparently, very 
 ill, but his strength was entirely prostrated, and he lingered 
 within the imbecility of the second childhood, in i'ts most help- 
 less state, smitten with a patient gillinoss that could not be seen 
 without sorrow. He had lost the sense of present objects, and 
 fondled over the recollections of former years. Sometimes he 
 thought of his lady, and would talk to her of their household 
 
CHAPTER CIV.-THE BEATH ANB BUKIAX. 451 
 
 which shf had acqu ed Tvl " ''^""'"^'^ ^^ ^«^*»"« 
 of his children T :t flll^^^^^^^ B"t the playfulness 
 
 and he would chu k J l, '^'f^'T^'^ ^^ ^-ncy; 
 pranks. In the mids Z ??"'''* ^^^^ ^* «^^^*^ kittle 
 
 reminiscence TouWsLfaZ"'! '%"''"^''' ^^"'^ ^^^^ "^ 
 looting that his dar^t^TO!" rr" 
 
 out into fresh and loudla! 1^: ,^ ^f, ^e ' 77^^ '"^' 
 cent child that bewails thp 1n=. 7 5 ^"^^ '^^ ^" ^nno- 
 
 dition he cont nued Ltdiv t' 7"."''^ '"'^- ^° ^^is con- 
 prostrate nature seemed "o X he"r '"^T"" "' '""^ ^^"^^'h' 
 powered, and she sanU^Te tn^^^^^^^^^^^^ ^nU..tU.a. more 
 
 1 hough Craiglands possessed frw nf fi, 
 attract general popularfty or pers II est '' T^''''' ^^"^'' 
 blameless in his life and LI ^''''"'' ^"^ ^^^ Jct so 
 
 amon, his tenanfan/Xfnlu "''"'' ^'^* ^^ ^^"^^^^ 
 -d stronger than either p^lX^tlem-^^t^"^ '^f^^ 
 of his manners came in aid of th • l- \ ^^ liomehness 
 honours of birth and ank and T'^ "f ""'^ ''^^^'^^ ^'^ '^- 
 feeling and respect ^Lnthe;!^ 'If ^ ^^^^^ "^ 
 
 that which i. paid to the memo v of ^ ' "' ^'"^^""^ "« 
 
 tule:.t, and worth. He was^bS tL lasf oT^" '"^'""^^' 
 a circumstance in itself ealo Z .1 . ' ""^ ''•"^^^"t 1'"^, 
 
 -^'-n.; for although hss^^^^^^^^^^^^^ interesting asso-' 
 
 -".ury folks around'condeed the fwr''^'" '"^"^^'^' ^^>« 
 death of the last male l2 T^ tjr T"r'''f ''^ ^''^^ 
 consequence, one of great solemnity nsf , T'''^ ^"^' '" 
 neighbouring hamlets Not Tn^i ''^""^"^'l"'!"^' and all the 
 -ended, an^ ^.^^ ti^^^JT:^ tn^ ^^^"^"^ 
 <;oneourse of old and young assembled at T^e Pi! "^^ '^ ' T' 
 ■ctmue tliat followed the hearse was in ne.fee / 1'' ""' 
 the pageantry whicl, the people thol . r ? "[^'^^''^^^oe with 
 the last laird. ^ ^ ""'"S'^'' due to the obsequies of 
 
 Among several old persons in fi,, -n 
 
 their lives in the service of Tier"- ' '"'' '^'"' 
 
 '^ very aged man, of sueV a LVa^lf ^^ "" ''^r^ ^^'^'^>' 
 
 — saying that nobody ::rtrrrtv;or^^ 
 
452 
 
 SIB ANDREW WTLIB. 
 
 He had been upwards of seventy years nominally the gardener; 
 but for some time prior to this period, he had been pensioned 
 with a widow in Stoneyholm. Feeble with extreme age and 
 infirmity, he had not strength to join the other mourners at 
 The Place, but he waited for the procession at the door of the 
 cottage where he resided, and as it passed he cawe forward 
 leaning on his staff. Holding his hat in his hand, and with 
 slow and tottering steps, he followed at some little distance. 
 His venerable appearance, his long flowing grey hairs, and the 
 silent sorrow with which he moved along by himself, attracted 
 the attention of the children of Mr Tannyhill's school, and they 
 gradually detached themselves from the spectators, and forming 
 a circle round him, as he falteringly walked forward, insensibly 
 fell into the order of a little procession, of which he was the 
 leader. 
 
 When the hearse reached the gate of the churchyard, the 
 carriages of the gentry drew aside, and the coflin was talcen out 
 and placed on the spakes. This occupied a little time, during 
 which old Thomas, attended by the children, came up, and 
 passed on towards the family burying-place. It was an ancient, 
 massy, walled enclosure, ornamented with sculptured skulls and 
 urns : a tablet, on which the arms of the Craiglands Cunning- 
 hams had been emblazoned, in the rude carving of the sixteenth 
 century, occupied a niche over the entrance. This trophy of 
 the olden time had long been respected by the villagers ; but 
 during the incumbency of Doctor Dozadeal, the churchyard 
 gate happened to be allowed to fall from its hinges, by whicli 
 the school-boys, in their play-hours, having free access, it had 
 suffered among other of their dilapidations. Certainly, however, 
 from^ no malice against the family ; on the contrary, solely, if 
 we rightly recollect our own juvenile sentiments on the occa- 
 sion, (being concerned in the devastation,) from a most con- 
 scientious abhorrence of the idolatrous beasts of papistry and 
 prelacy, some traditionary opinion having ariser "n the school, 
 that the said ariijs, with ilie supporters, had been idols of old, be- 
 longing to that once Babylonish sanctuary, the Abbey of Kilwin- 
 ning. Nor was the notion entirely without .. shadow of historical 
 fact; for the founder of the Craiglands Cunninghams was a cadet 
 
nally the gardener; 
 lad been pensioned 
 1 extreme age and 
 other mourners at 
 at the door of the 
 1 he carae forward 
 lis hand, and with 
 me little distance, 
 grey hairs, and the 
 ^ himself, attracted 
 I's school, and they 
 tators, and forming 
 forward, insensibly 
 ' which he was the 
 
 e churchyard, the 
 jffin was taken out 
 little time, during 
 en, came up, and 
 
 It was an ancient, 
 dptured skulls and 
 liglands Cunning- 
 ig of the sixteenth 
 . This trophy of 
 the villagers ; but 
 1, the churchyard 
 
 hinges, by whicli 
 free access, it had 
 ertainly, however, 
 contrary, solely, if 
 ents on the occa- 
 rom a most con- 
 s of papistry and 
 !er 'vl the school, 
 en idols of old, be- 
 Abbey of Kilwin- 
 adow of historical 
 fhams was a cadet 
 
 CHAPTER CV. — THE CONCLUSION. 4.53 
 
 of the Glencairn family ; and when the pious Farl of that name 
 herried the religious houses of Ayrshire during the Reformation, 
 i^Tr Firebrand Cunningham of Burnthebyke, came in for a share of 
 the plunder, and so laid the subsequent grandeur of his descend- 
 ants, m the portion which he received of the domains of that 
 rich abbacy. The laird, at the time when the arms were defaced 
 had been officiously, as we well recollect it was deemed, told of 
 the exploit, and had vowed a terrible vengeance, and also to 
 restore the sculpture, neither of which, however, he performed ; 
 so that it was observed as an ominous and remarkable thing, that 
 the escutcheon of the family was entirely obliterated. 
 
 When the coffin was borne to the entrance of the sepulchre 
 the spakes were drawn out, and the undertaker's men having 
 carried it within the enclosure, it was placed on two planks over 
 the grave, till a few particular friends who followed it had 
 received the cords attached to the hanles. At this moment 
 old Ihomas, with his head still bare, came forward opposite to 
 the entrance, and as the planks were removed, and the remains 
 of his old master were lowered into the earth, he was unable to 
 control his emotion. When the spectators in silence uncovered 
 as the coffin reached its last rest-a homage to the dispensations 
 ot heaven more aftecting than any other funeral service— he 
 sunk down on his knees, and continued in that posture till 
 the grave was filled, the earth trodden in, and the turf laid for 
 ever. 
 
 CHAPTER CV. 
 
 tJie conclusiow. 
 
 It is, in our opinion, a more awful thing to be born than to 
 die; but without descanting upon the question, it cannot be 
 doubted that it is easier to write the first than the last chapter 
 of a book. Every one of our readers must have seen, that the 
 laird s death, though it no doubt delayed, yet it was not an 
 event calculated to subtract any thing from the happiness of our 
 
454 
 
 SIR ANDREW WYtlB. 
 
 Piele'n, tire ,o mT; Ye ' rS" °° ""t "^' ''«» 
 bridal paranhernali, t „u . J"*™"' purchases for the 
 
 "f red flannel rt„rhe;,C'. at,?,' °'"*"' '" ™ " ''"» 
 they sallied forth to .SltheluaTn T'"*" ''^^''y' "■■=" 
 they were received o7,W ■ Pl^rehases-in what manner 
 
 taxe'd the pZn™, andSliZf re' :h T" '"""^ °' '■'™« 
 stretch of human ™,r.r ?^ 1 *°P'''*P''"^ '» 'he utmost 
 
 the. thin'iTLdTr^': IrSj't-""."" 
 
 attefSng ttee""::^ " '°, ""' """ '"■ '""'""' »"=' Mary: 
 united b^M 42; 1 ^t" 'S P;-'-"-^ '" »burch, wej^ 
 matrimony, i„ „«sTce onlv „nf ,'? "■" '■°''' ''""''» "f 
 
 Tannyhillfand ^e °e° ™£ M ° m""™* «"'"''""»'■". Mr 
 On this occasta M rl • • ''^ """"^ °' ''"''™aW- 
 tears, th„„,htTr:;;"at^S:-::Z oTtirhtinTr '" 
 
 thic7':;::l;tsr :f r/"*™""°'^-- 
 
 present a.la„ghi„r "'"* ""^ ''■'"'"'"■^' "" "" 
 
 aearrertSSSnltinr""'''^ "'^ *» "* 
 .iourney permitted, they weS^;''r,:a;;r;;: ^"' '^^ 
 
 Pn,U^ v,;„ ,.._.. '^I'l^eptea tlio Chiltern Hundreds, nn-i 
 
 attributed" .'oteTrchLTZ' °"-"""f ""''='' "" "-"1'n; 
 
 --Kar.ofsandyi:s::i::— -;-^^^^ 
 
cency would permit, 
 izy thought decent, 
 lid have afforded us 
 t)le tasks and cares 
 wedding— how she 
 ce, the heiress and 
 'n with Miss Peggy 
 
 purchases for the 
 wo whole days, the 
 »p to shop, inspect- 
 
 ascertained where 
 ' Peggy caught a 
 ;d to wear a piece 
 ign remedy, when 
 i — in what manner 
 3quence of having 
 pers, to the utmost 
 ry visits— but all 
 'ity of narration 
 1 of a concludino- 
 ndrew and Mary, 
 
 in church, were 
 he holy bands of 
 rrandmother, Mr 
 ig as bridemaid. 
 irtha affected to 
 blessing, to tune 
 bbing and wail; 
 'mpathy, set all 
 
 after the laird's 
 soon as an easy 
 jy pair. 
 
 the Marquis of 
 Hundreds, and 
 !h the marquis 
 ice on the part 
 idered as envi- 
 
 CHAPTEB CV.-THE CONCZUSION. 455 
 
 The earf and co„r;:^:" «/«;- '" ^^ '^'^-^r^- 
 boars, and CasUo KooksLouTttoh W,^T^"'f °*'- 
 mean time purchased w,. f„. n „ '°''''*'P """ti in the 
 a™ in his Len": V;™T twlr" °^? '-P'""™.- but 
 try, he resisted alike the sTol !, , "" °' '"'' ""^ «'""'- 
 -d returned .0 to, a:the"\°/, '"'""' ™"*"*'"P. 
 reside permanentlv- makir iT "" ™' ™"«nued to 
 
 Wy .0 lu-s old so„ti,e™ Sdr^' '"°"'°""' ™"' """ "- 
 that Ferrers, who oeeas onMs ~" h nVh " ""^ *" """^ 
 less, ha<l hcen killed in the p' , "'^^^I'mess to the coun- 
 
 -asalsndead, had a™;* 'prt™^; tlf "? '"r"'"' """ 
 
 The „„Iy par. of ou'r^hL tntc S'?" "°"™'°- 
 speeulation, and wo nientio™ it T-Vl. '"" """""I "y 
 
 be deemed e,u,ivoearTs,T„ ' °°""°™'' '''"^ " -"y 
 
 '-wards his g^aXoC X::TZ'\T'-'" ^' »«> acted 
 thought, when ho rebuil *™''"''"f "'« """gersat Stonoyholm 
 
 ought to have .Z^eiM^ZT-^TZ'''^''''' '"" "= 
 was ver, urgent with the o H » f- "''' "'^■""' '""^" 
 
 baronet sail notSg li, L T™" 'h 'T """ """■• "■" "'e 
 both better show tl.efrCri fva it ,""^ """ ""J' «•"'' 
 ing of her days in her ow^^ ' * '"" '" 'P™'' "'e even- 
 
 "ho had voud safe of hhZ T""""' '" "■" '»■•'"■" °f '"". 
 riW ahundance on h:r'dedirg";:.fr' '° ^^'^ '""'" ""- 
 
 Arch^iCaVMaSr-^JlXT'l '"""«'' '"= ■"«•-" of Sir 
 Anehinwardi Ld M TatS .: T '' '"" "" *= P"'* °f 
 'be people, „h„ |,„j long veT «;j",^'^'' '"';•;'- ""J delight of 
 positions, was nromoted frllr , , "* ""<' «°°"e dis- 
 still exercises wit^u di I, ' " 1" "!" "'""■"'' """^ "" 
 'be cure. On a late oeca^L , Ih" H, ' P";',"™' f"^'^ of , 
 
 -"yyea;: hrng";:;,:d'fw'"'"™ """" ''y»-e-io;ir; 
 
 tbingof the kind Ve SdS:"?,":"' T' P"'™' "' 4 
 
 "'"" — . -* '-i^n r:e:rtus:^^^^ 
 
'i' 
 
 4^6 
 
 SIB ANDREW WYLIE. 
 
 tening with patient affection to the repUes of the youth of both 
 sexes assembled; and it seemed to our observant eyes, that he 
 often sighed to remark how much they were inferior in religious 
 knowledge to their orthodox parents. Among others present 
 was a lad, Robin Kennedy, clothed in the sprucest cut of clipping 
 Jock, who, under the style and title of Mr Shaper, had, after a 
 three months' insight with Messrs Buts and Lining, clothiers on 
 the South Bridge of Edinburgh, supplanted his old master, 
 Thomas Steek, in the business of the young farmers of the 
 parish. Robin Kennedy was dressed in 'his Sunday suit; but 
 happening unfortunately to be seated on a bench v/here a nail 
 protruded, in standing up to answer the question, " What does 
 every sin deserve?" he tore his breeches, and exclaimed, looking 
 back at the nail, and feeling the wounded corduroy—" God's 
 curse!"-" Very well, Robin," said Mr TannyhiU ; "but soberly 
 and coolly," 
 
 For some reason or another not explained in any satisfactory 
 manner to the public, Miss Mizy is permitted to enjoy The 
 Place by herself, where she' is sometimes visited by the baronet 
 and Lady Wylie, with their children. But on those occasions 
 the drawmg-room is always carefully locked; for the children, 
 as she has herself assured us, are such tempests, particularly the 
 boys, that they have no mercy on the furniture. One of them 
 before the precaution of locking the door, actually picked off the 
 putty which, as we have described, concealed the face of the 
 blooming May in the emblematic picture of that month. And 
 here we should not omit to inform our readers, that when we 
 last, called at The Place, Miss Mizy told us that in sorting some 
 old papers she had made a great literary discovery; namely a 
 volume written by her brother, in his own handwriting, con- 
 taming, as she assured us, "a most full account of all manner 
 of particularities anent the decay of the ancient families of the 
 west country,"— a work that we have some reason to hope Sir 
 Andrew may induce her to transmit to us, in order that we 
 ^nRy arrange it f«)r publication ; for though "the laird," as she 
 observed, "wasna a man of book lair, he had yet a nerve at 
 observation, and a faculty to note whatsoever came to pass, in a 
 manner just extraordinar, as any rational person, no over critical 
 
le j^outh of both 
 int eyes, that he 
 ferior in religious 
 g others present 
 ;st cut of clipping 
 aper, had, after a 
 ling, clothiers on 
 his old master, 
 r farmers of the 
 iuHflay suit; but 
 ich where a nail 
 lon, " What does 
 ^claimed, looking 
 rduroy — " God's 
 ill; "but soberly 
 
 any satisfactory 
 id to enjoy The 
 i by the baronet 
 1 those occasions 
 for the children, 
 
 particularly the 
 . One of them, 
 lly picked off the 
 
 the face of the 
 it month. And 
 s, that when we 
 
 in sorting some 
 very; namely, a 
 ndwriting, con- 
 t of all manner 
 
 families of the 
 son to hope Sir 
 
 order that we 
 »e laird," as she 
 
 yet a nerve at 
 me to pass, in a 
 
 no over critical 
 
 CHAPTER CV.— THE CONCLUSION. 457 
 
 about points and phrases, may very clearly discern." Should 
 the baronet succeed in procuring the manuscript, we shall lose 
 no t:me .n sendmg it to press for the entertainment and edifi^ ! 
 tion of the pubhc. Meanwhile, having brought his own bio- 
 graphy to a close, we leave him, as all heroes ought to be left 
 n. t e full enjoyment of the manifold gifts and felicities wh h 
 prudence and good fortune united can procure 
 
 THE END OF SIR ANDREW WTLIE. 
 
II 
 
. 
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS, ANECDOTES, 
 
 AND 
 
 CRITICAL REMARKS. 
 
ai 
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 W( 
 
 CO 
 Ch; 
 
 En 
 
 fici 
 
 wa: 
 
 ada 
 
 whi 
 
 tha 
 
 in s 
 
 pict 
 
 assu 
 
 poel 
 
 II 
 
 the 
 
 oftl 
 
 volu 
 
 and 
 
 nlng 
 
 nor ( 
 
 our ] 
 
 and 1 
 
 book 
 
 Sii 
 

 ILLUSTRATIONS, &c. 
 
 Thk cnticsms on " Sir Andrew Wylie," at the time of its appear- 
 ance were of a very mixed eharaeter. Some of them were ZZ. 
 of sheer abuse agamst the reception of which the obvious malig- 
 nity was a suificient caveat ; and some were promoted by an evident 
 
 In?" The P P^Pf^t'/'^'^'^ " The Annals," ■« The ^Legat t^ 
 and The Provost," had secured to the author. Only one or two 
 were fair, and acknowledged the merits of the book-wh 
 
 ZZlr. ''' '™'"^"^"^ ^""^ --tioned-as of a mixed 
 
 En^n'.h*'' ^''V™'. ^" '^'' '''''' ""^ ^°^>^«' '^^ ^"thor trode upon 
 hdaf of an Ttf; ^"'^r"^"-^ "P- - '^^'-eation of the most arti- 
 hcial of all states of existence-aristocratic society. The task 
 
 adapted; but when we regard the character of Lord Sandyford^ 
 which ,s drawn with philosophical nicety, it would be harsh to say 
 that he has altogether failed. The episode of the gipsies IlthouS 
 m some degree an excrescence on the main story,' IteW^^^^^ 
 picturesque y managed; and the language of the'old moUer in 
 
 ;rc7feX""^ '' '"' ''''' '' '''- '-'-^-''' -^^^ 
 
 It would be vain, however, to conceal that the Scottish parts of 
 he na t , .^e by far the best, and that the characteri tic'genius 
 
 volumes The old .randmother, Martha- Tamiyhill, the eenti,. 
 and modest " dominie "-Miss Mizy-the Laird-and Mary Cun 
 ZTB~ri '" r t n^'" '' ''^' ^"^^ ^^^thfullyTitltu :; 
 
 and hU T' "'"" ^"'"'"^^ '^ d'-^^^'^ ^ith greai vigour 
 
 and boldness, but perhaps, is after all the most questionable in the 
 book if we regard its probabilities. 
 
 Sir Andrew Wylie was in England the most popular of all Mr 
 
^% 
 
 ^> 
 
 w. 
 
 \v.%^ 
 
 IMAGE EVALUATION 
 TEST TARGET (MT-3) 
 
 1.0 
 
 I.! 
 
 ■ 50 ""'^^ 
 
 na _ 
 
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 1.8 
 
 
 1.25 1.4 1.6 
 
 
 ■* 6" 
 
 ► 
 
 
 '/ 
 
 Photographic 
 
 Sciences 
 Corporation 
 
 23 WEST MAIN STREET 
 
 WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 
 
 (716) 872-4503 
 
 V»."^i 
 
 % 
 
 '17 
 
 
 '% 
 
462 
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS, ANECDOTES, 
 
 Gait's writings. To what it owed this pre-eminence, if not from 
 the greater admixture of English dialogue and portraiture, it would 
 be difficult to say. 
 
 The annotations are restricted, principally for the reason already 
 mentioned, to a few illustrative remarks by Mr Gait himself. 
 
 " Of all my manifold sketches, I repine most at an alteration 
 which I was induced, by the persuasion of a friend, to make, on 
 the original talc of Sir Andrew Wylie ; as it now stands, it is more 
 like an ordinary novel than that which I first projected, inasmuch 
 as, instead of giving, as intended, a view of the rise and progress 
 of a Scotchman in London, it exhibits a beginning, a middle, and 
 an end, according to the most f pproved fashion for works of that 
 description.; But no particular story is engrafted on my original 
 idea, and perhaps, the book by the alteration is greatly improved ; 
 it is not, however, the work I had planned, in which certainly 
 there would have been no such episode as the gipsies introduced 
 —an episode, however, which I have heard frequently mentioned 
 as the best contrived part of the narrative. 
 
 " The second edition was inscribed tu my amiable friend the 
 Earl of Blessington, in consequence of a remark which his lord- 
 ship made to me when he was reading it ; speaking of Lord Sandy- 
 ford's character, he observed, that it must be very natural, for, in 
 the same ch-cumstances, he would have acted in a similar manner, 
 and he seemed not to have the least idea, that he was himself the 
 model of the character : perhaps I never received so pleasing a 
 compliment. Of course the story has nothing to do with his lord- 
 ship ; indeed in selecting scenes and incidents for the likenesses I 
 endeavour to portray, I only aspired to make my dramatis personw 
 speak and act after the manner of the models ; just as Sir Joshua 
 Reynolds persuaded the first Lord Duncan to stand to him as 
 Jupiter, in the celebrated picture of Hercules strangling tlie ser- 
 pents, which he painted for that arch-empress Catherine IL, as 
 emblematic of the progress of civilization in the Russian empire." 
 
 " Origin of the interview between Sir Andrew Wf/Iie and King George 
 
 the Third; with anecdotes of other members of the royal fiiniih'," 
 
 " At the suggestion of a friend, I am induced to mention several 
 
 accidental circumstances, which he thinks will be amuKsng to my 
 
 readers, particularly to give an explanation of the origin of the 
 
 ■imif'^ 
 
3TE8, 
 
 e-eminence, if not from 
 and portraiture, it would 
 
 ly for the reason already 
 y Mr Gait himself, 
 e most at an alteration 
 f a friend, to make, on 
 it now stands, it is more 
 rst projected, inasmuch 
 »f the rise and progress 
 eginning, a middle, and 
 ishion for works of that 
 [grafted on my original 
 on is greatly improved ; 
 ned, in which certainly 
 s the gipsies introduced 
 'd frequently mentioned 
 
 my amiable friend the 
 remark which his lord- 
 jeaking of Lord Sandy, 
 be very natural, for, in 
 Bd in a similar manner, 
 hat he was himself the 
 received so pleasing a 
 ing to do with his lord- 
 ints for the likenesses I 
 ic my dramatis persona; 
 iels ; just as Sir Joshua 
 m to stand to him as 
 des strangling the ser- 
 press Catherine II., as 
 n the Russian empire." 
 
 Wylie and King George 
 of the rni/td JlivJI}/, " 
 iced to mention several 
 will be amuKsng to my 
 n of the origin of the 
 
 AND CRITICAL BEMABItS. 4(53 
 
 " The supposition is not correct in Faot V.,,* f v, • 
 I entertain of two droll incidents wih1he/hr,f™rT';7'"' 
 chard > old king, has contributed to the force oJthe n f /"*" 
 e.ght-and-twenty years ago, my friends P.rk '^'7'' ^'^'^^ 
 
 London, and I went with\;e^ t 3 'wLL:^^^^^^^^^ 
 great staircase was then nearly finished but f hi . T^""" ' 
 
 was not all removed. In lookCTt th . " scaffolding 
 
 -in flight of steps, and was IfaztrabZ wt:^^ f "' ''' 
 unnouncod. Before I conlH .-.1 . . , ' ^^^ ^'"8^ ^as 
 
 architect, camet, and i l^T • f;,^ 7"' '^ -^-*^ with the 
 for some time standing whle I wl '""^^'l'^^^^^' '<> r«™->« 
 
 " The king observed us, particularly myself who ™ac 
 spicuous, and lingered with M- w J r,' '^'^'' ^as so con- 
 curiosity by lootinTarl^ J ' ""''^ ^' ^'^^ '^'^'^'^ W« 
 
 neverla^'Ld tklglb 4r:f:fs" ''""'i ' ''' ^""^- 
 that he spoke more at randl V '"""'.'^'f'"^- '* ^as evident 
 
 tect, bein'g occupTed^l^":;^^^^^^^^^^^^ 
 
 <lrew my attention and fmn, !u .'\ ^T"""""^ '" '"« manner 
 
 b.y several min: /T 1^^ It^^T^' T'' '''''' P^'^^^' 
 liarities..-Isee himstill ' remembrance of his pecu- 
 
 which he dissoS the pa r„rof IhTw^ ^H '''' '''' "" 
 formed after the death of M P tt f^ ^^^"^ f ^""nistration. 
 friend, at morning praye s in he o \'T""f '" ^' ^'^'^ ^ 
 The king was tho.5^ and t io ""^'^ °^ '^' ^^«^''-^- 
 
 tendantsfbeside;;;;^i;!::rrr:i^^:t'^r;- 
 
 twenty persons It w^= „ • u^ . taaptiiy; m all, about 
 
 ^'^'"'"'""■Mllj touching aolcmnit,, .11 „avitrh„„, 
 
:l 
 
 4&4 
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS, ANECDOTES, 
 
 i ;i 
 
 a defect wh.ch caused him to hold the prayer-book close to his 
 face: over the top of the leaves, with the sly simplicity of an 
 urchm at school, he frequently took a peep at us. but whenever he 
 caught my eye, cowered, as it were, down, afraid, and 'conned 
 his task in the most exemplary manner. The wav he did this 
 was exceedingly amusing; but the worst of it was/that I could 
 not conceal the effect, and accordingly ' I and the king' con- 
 tmued to play at bo-peep during all the remainder of the service 
 
 To these two incidents, as they may be called, I owe those 
 particular traits of individuality which have been embodied in the 
 scene with Sir Andrew Wylie; and which, I must believe, are not 
 unlike I know, from good authority, that George the Fourth re. 
 marked, in reading the description, it was ' by far the likp^t por- 
 trait of his majesty he had ever seen.' 
 
 " It often struck me, that the late Duke of Kent had much of his 
 father smanner. I was, for many years immediately preceding his 
 death, honoured with his royal highness's condescension, and I have 
 still, among my papers, several curious documents which he gave 
 to me. Illustrative of domestic matters in the royal family. The 
 occasion was this : circumstances, which need not be explained, led 
 him to mcur debts, and he was advised, I think foolishly, to apply 
 to parhament to discharge them. He mentioned the circumstance 
 to me, and I took the Hberty of at once --ndemning the advice 
 From less to more, he mentioned it had I .ggested to him that 
 
 he had a legal claim. This I knew he h.. .,t; and sensible, that 
 an apphcation on such a ground might lead to unpleasant discus 
 sions I recommended him to consult competent legal advisers. 
 
 A ^l\7lf '"^^"'''' ''""'"'"^ "'^^ I ^^^ acquainted with Sir 
 Archibald Macdonald, who had been chief baron, put the papers 
 into my custody, to show to Jum. and requested me to sound him on 
 the subject. Sir Archibald, at once pronounced the same opinion 
 that I had done, and went immediately to Sir William Grant, th. 
 eminent master of the rolls, who also concurred, and strongly de- 
 precated any sort of public proceeding. I reported progress, and, 
 mthe end, the duke did not apply for public money, though he' 
 conferred on the subject with different influential gentlemen 
 
 ^^^ongth^se papeis, was a long well-written letter, by the, 
 duke himself, to his brother the Prince Regent, noticing some o 
 the circumstances alluded to. His royal highness sent a groom to 
 
 I ' 
 
 n 
 
 o 
 
 I w 
 
 jhi 
 
 j g" 
 
 > 
 
 ', CO 
 
 tw 
 
 ha 
 
 en; 
 
 on I 
 
 to 
 
 an{ 
 
 r'a; 
 
 I sho 
 
 ! imn 
 
 for 
 
 ingi 
 
 spel 
 
 whe 
 
 hum 
 
 time 
 
 thou 
 
 mess 
 
 hour 
 
 "1 
 
 Duke 
 
 to ju, 
 
 I'C rec 
 
 of Ge 
 
 Hon t 
 
 Nothii 
 
 York 
 
 court 
 
 some ! 
 
 remoii; 
 
 itiie dul 
 
 3. 
 
ECDOTES, 
 
 ( prayer-book close to his 
 h the sly simplicity of an 
 eep at us, but whenever he 
 lown, afraid, and 'conned 
 3r. The way he did this 
 St of it was, that I could 
 ly * I and the king' con- 
 remainder of the service, 
 ay be called, I owe those 
 lave been embodied in the 
 ch, I must believe, are not 
 lat George the Fourth re- 
 las ' by far the likest por- 
 
 AND CRITICAL RKMARKS. 
 
 465 
 
 e of Kent had much of his 
 immediately preceding his 
 condescension, and I have 
 documents which he gave 
 1 the royal family. The 
 leed not be explained, led 
 I think foolishly, to apply 
 mtioned the circumstance 
 i ""'^demning the advice. 
 - aggested to him that 
 .: >t; and sensible, that 
 !ad to unpleasant discus- 
 ipetent legal advisers, 
 was acquainted with Sir 
 3f baron, put the papers; 
 ested me to sound him oni 
 lounced the same opinion 
 ) Sir William Grant, the 
 curred, and strongly de-J 
 I reported progress, audi 
 )ublic money, though he] 
 fluential gentlemen. f 
 ill-written letter, by the 
 Regent, noticing some ofj 
 lighness sent a groom tof 
 
 ! ^est of England: the other papLVhe ,1^7 f" ^'' "'"' *« t'^^ 
 
 "By the way, to this untJeZltZZ'^ """"• 
 j hangs a tale,' which should bo toJT ^ of the groom, 'thereby 
 ^ good nature, which is .Zt 0^^^ T''''' '' ''''' «'"^»'- 
 "His Royal Highn/;. waT n h " "S^r'''^ '•''^^' ^^-^^• 
 come to him, often at times verv C '°°™'"^'"^ "^ *« 
 
 tween five and six oViocT whfl '""'"' ' ^''-l^^ntly, be- 
 
 had occurred more t!:, ' ol T' ^1 7 "T' '''"^- ^'- 
 engaged to a particular partv it 1 . '^' '''^''' ^ ^^^« 
 
 once,inmyfitofself.absorpMon'thnt- ''M "^ *^^^ ^''^^^out 
 to have an end put to the us't m T •^'Z"-'-'^. ^ resolved 
 anger, and grow/ng fiercer as T /r''^'"^'^' ^''^'"^ ^ith 
 ^ark to the'palacf, lyZnl' Tf ^f '"^^^ ^'^^'-^'^ %<le 
 fhown into the room where ^f dul ""^"-"-"-^ I was 
 
 immediately to deliver myself of m '""' """'«' ^'^'^ "^^^^^ 
 '"or a short time, and, be e j "f^^'f ^^"-^ He li.te^ed 
 ingly good-natured laugh at mv . ' ^^'*' ^" e=^o<?ed. 
 
 spoil ; 1 saw at once my aturdlr™" /""• '' '^'^^'^'-^^ *'- 
 where to look. But, with alind of ^ fT''' ^"'^ ^^— t 
 hu-ouredly admitted th Justice of m '" P'^^^"'"^-, he good- 
 t™e, he generally requested 1 L"^ "''^'''''''''- ""'^^^ ^^at 
 
 thought would be lnvXt_-Witlt,r? '\'''''' *'^ ^'^ 
 message, he was always very con ^. exception of this final 
 
 hour was of no importan J to^r " ^" '^''y ''^r, the 
 
 ,*o justify a man in my stEli ? ' ' ^^ite often enough 
 
 - recollected, that a pub? rner« """ *''" ^•'^•""'- '^ ^^" 
 of George the Third oln blv b^^"];"^'^'^ '" eommomoration 
 ^ion to defray the expense of a 1 ' " ^'' "^ ^ ^^^^^rip. 
 
 Nothing could be more SI te in.Th "r"'' ^'""^ "^ -"'Pt"ro. 
 ^'ork agreed to take tloZ 'Jfl' ^^ T''""'-' '''' ^"'- of 
 ^-rt promised to attend Bra't.^ «^ '^^ 
 
 -«e of the back-stau. gentry vent to • f"''^'^"^ ^^'''' 
 
 rmonstrated with him again fcounL '"•"' ^'^^"'''' ^"^' 
 
 .^_ ^^'e^f^'ainbeoourtierHtoboelek.- ' 
 
 2g 
 
 -93^ 
 
! I 
 
 I! i ! 
 
 466 
 
 U^LUSTRATIONS, ANBCDOTJJS, 
 
 " It was evident, that every one wl.n k i . , 
 the festival, stood on the imn^i^t ,11 of ri n T 'T'"''' '^ 
 beputoff without greatexpense. 1 ."„Uo lT d t '' ''"''^ °°* 
 was one of the stewards and rpn- TI , Blessmgton, who 
 
 After n>uch eonsiderlSn it IZZ '" ''™ ^°" ^^ ^" ^t««d. 
 work upon the duke 'o ^Vj /'^r^"^*^ *° ^^-^ ^'^^ >ve could 
 Guardslgether,atd%o:hs r/r^^^^^^^ ^^^ Horse 
 
 condition that nothin/should .^^.^^^^^^^ « Promise to come on 
 
 dinner thus .^selZtZl^ t^' ^^^^^^ ^'' 
 
 t-ns, and I dare say is remembered Ivt tl this hf T'^'t 
 monumental grouo 'lies mn„w«..- • f "''"'■5 ^ut the 
 
 ofthedukewLg'^tTetrn'Ct^ 
 
 " The Duke of York, like all the ret ed" f the f"' "'"''• 
 a very cinli.ed regard for choice cookery On 0^^" T' '"' 
 feast, or dinner of the Highland SnoZr ' '"""^ ^''""'^^ 
 
 with an air, the landlord'pi: ed^I^^^^^^^ 
 
 dently ill made ; the bag was dZT 1 .u^^''' ^' ^"^^ '''- 
 desultory trencherful of'^rt t^:!!^^;;^;^^ ", "^'^' ^'''''' 
 apparition, cried to me. Gait, Jatis that .> ^1 ''"™1 '' "^« 
 sight, I could not resist thp Lrr. . I- ^^ascmated at the 
 
 boiled pairofbagpipelx^^^^^^^^^^ 2' -P^-d ^-ely, ^a 
 
 being reviled in Icotland f x r t r^'?V~r" "' *'^ "^'^ «^ 
 ordered the ' ^' '^''^^^ bighness immediately 
 
 ' Great chieftain of the p-^ddlng race' 
 ignominiously away. 
 
 tinclions. """' "'"'"' ""U" «»«■ tlieso dis-f 
 
 
IBCDOTJSS, 
 
 lio had taken an interest ia 
 fge of ridicule. It could not 
 >nt to Lord Blessington, who 
 ted to him how we all stood, 
 mined to try how we could 
 Y, we walked to the Horse 
 fhness's promise to come on 
 tbout the subscription. The 
 ''ell,' with all its constella- 
 ven to this hour; but the 
 the clay,' nor has the secret 
 it bt jn, till now, disclosed, 
 ined of the human race, had | 
 7' Once, at some Scottish 
 twaa sitting opposite, when, 
 him a haggis. It was evi. 
 altogether an ugly, flabby. 
 The duke, alarmed at the 
 that ?' Fascinated at the 
 », and replied gravely, 'a 
 3ath,— even at the risk of | 
 >yal highness immediately 
 
 ng Fiice' 
 
 ussex, 1 have now, in the ' 
 and-twenty years,— had 
 His Royal Highness lias I 
 escension; invited nie to J 
 conversations; but hisi 
 d than even these dis-l 
 
 lily, I am unknown ; but] 
 ' was pleased to expres J 
 1 given him much plea-/ 
 eduction at court; aiil 
 
 AND CRITICAL REMARKS. 
 
 The man does not knL h^ wL"' ^'^^ Reserving of notice 
 «ive lest he mistake, i„ hi vatL n .' T'"'''''' ^PP^^^en- 
 recognition of the privi^d S of rf " ''^P"*^"- '' ^^^ 
 without the consciousness of ho • / ^'^ '' °«^ "^ a^J value 
 
 THE END. 
 
 )prioty of doing so ha,s| 
 that I frankly coiifes 
 
ill 
 
 EDINUURGU: PRINTED BY BALLANTYNE AND HUGHES, 
 PAUL'i WOEK, CANONOATE. 
 
ANTYNE ANO HUGHES, 
 NOATE.