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 Vsrrtl f1«Er=' 
 
Jeanie and the Laird of Dumbiedykes 
 
 Drawn by W:il. Paget — Etched by V. Focillon 
 
Illustrated Sterling 6dition 
 
 THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 
 
 THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR 
 
 BY 
 SIR WALTER SCOTT, BART. 
 
 ^'^im 
 
 BOSTON 
 DANA ESTES .V COM? ANY 
 
 PUBLISHERS 
 

 0-r^^4^ 
 
 6 
 
180 
 
 fu/. 
 
 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 t 
 
 HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Jeanie and the Laird of Dumbiedykes . . Frontispiece 
 The Laird of Dumbiedykes in Dean's Cottage, Wood- 
 end 78 
 
 MuscHATS Cairn 146 
 
 Madge Wildfire before Bailie Middleburgh . . 182 
 The Interview between Effie Deans and Her Sister 
 
 IN Prison , . 200 
 
 View from Richmond Hill ...... 363 
 
 The Death of Sir George Staunton .... 518 
 
 BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR 
 
 15 
 
 43 
 
 65 
 106 
 
 Ravenswood Castle ..... ^ . 
 Lucy Ashton at the Fountain .... 
 
 Wolfs Craig . 
 
 Caleb Balderstone's Ruse ..... 
 Lady Ashton's Interview with Her Husband Relative 
 
 TO Ravenswood's Quitting the Mansion . 
 Scene in the Bridal Chamber — ^olonel Ashton 
 
 Finding the Body of Bucklaw 294 
 
 05 
 
 M29a86 
 
TALES OF MY LANDLORD 
 
 Hear, Land o' Cakes and brither Scots, 
 Frae Maidenkirk to Johnny Groat's, 
 If there's a hole in a' your coats, 
 
 I rede ye tent it ; 
 A duel's amang you takin' notes, 
 
 An' faith he'U prent it ! 
 
 Burns 
 
Ahora Men, dixo il Cura, traedme, senor huesped, aquesos lihro,.^ 
 ^ue los quiero ver. Que me place, respondio el, y entrando en su 
 aposento, saco del una maletilla vieja cerrada con una cadenilla, y 
 abriendola hallo en ella tres libros grandes y unos papeles de muy 
 buena letra escritos de mano. — Don Quixote, Parte I. , Capitulo 
 
 It is mighty well, said the priest ; pray, landlord, bring me 
 those books, for I have a. mind to see them. With all my heart, 
 answered the host ; and going to his chamber, he brought out a 
 little old cloke-bag, with a padlock and chain to it, and opening it, 
 he took out three large volumes, and some manuscript papers writ- 
 ten in a fiae character. — Jarvis's Translation, 
 
mTRODUCTIOJT 
 
 TO 
 
 THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 
 
 The Author has stated in the preface to the Chronicles of 
 the Canongate, 1827, that he received from an anonymous 
 correspondent an account of the incident upon which the 
 following story is founded. He is now at liberty to say that 
 the information was conveyed to him by a late amiable and 
 ingenious lady, whose wit and power of remarking and 
 judging of character still survive in the memory of her 
 friends. Her maiden name was Miss Helen Lawson, of 
 Girthhead, and she was wife of Thomas Goldie, Esq., of 
 Craigmuie, Commissary of Dumfries. 
 
 Her communication was in these words : 
 
 " I had taken for summer lodgings a cottage near the old 
 Abbey of Lincluden. It had formerly been inhabited by a 
 lady who had pleasure in embellishing cottages, which she 
 found perhaps homely and even poor enough ; mine there- 
 fore possessed many marks of taste and elegance unusual in 
 this species of halaitation in Scotland, where a cottage is 
 literally what its name declares. 
 
 " From my cottage door I had a partial view of the old 
 Abbey before mentioned ; some of the highest arches were 
 seen over, and some through, the trees were scattered along 
 a lane which led down to the ruin, and the strange fantastic 
 shapes of almost all those old ashes accorded wonderfully 
 well with the building they at once shaded and ornamented. 
 
 " The Abbey itself from my door was almost on a level 
 with the cottage ; but on coming to the end of the lane, it 
 was discovered to be situated on a high perpendicular bank, 
 at the foot of which run the clear waters of the Cluden, 
 where they hasten to join the sweeping Nith, 
 
 ix 
 
X \VA VEULEY NOVELS. 
 
 Whose distance roaring swells and fa's. 
 
 As my kitchen and parlor were not very far distant, I one 
 day went in to purchase some chickens from a person I heard 
 offering them for sale. It was a little, rather stout-looking 
 woman, who seemed to be between seventy and eighty years 
 of age ; she was almost covered with a tartan plaid, and her 
 cap had over it a black silk hood tied under the chin, a 
 piece of dress still much in use among elderly women of that 
 rank of life in Scotland ; her eyes were dark, and remark- 
 ably lively and intelligent. I entered into conversation with 
 her, and began by asking how she maintained herself, etc. 
 
 *' She said that in winter she footed stockings, that is, 
 knit feet to country people's stockings, which bears about 
 the same relation to stocking-knitting that cobbling does to 
 shoemaking, and is of course both less profitable and less 
 dignified ; she likewise taught a few children to read, and 
 in summer she whiles reared a few chickens. 
 
 I said I could venture to guess from her face she had 
 never been married. She laughed heartily at this, and said, 
 "1 maun hae the queerist face that ever was seen, that ye 
 could guess that. Now, do tell me, madam, how ye cam to 
 think sae "}" I told her it was from her cheerful disengaged 
 countenance. She said, " Mem, have ye na far mair reason 
 to be happy than me, wi' a gude husband and a fine family 
 o' bairns, and plenty o' everything ? For me, I'm the 
 puirest o' a' puir bodies, and can hardly contrive to keep 
 mysell alive in a' thae wee bits o' ways I hae tell't ye." 
 After some more conversation, during which I was more 
 and more pleased with the old woman's sensible conver- 
 sation and the naivete of her remarks, she rose to go away, 
 when I asked her name. Her countenance suddenly 
 clouded, and she said gravely, rather coloring, " My name 
 is Helen Walker ; but your husband kens weel about 
 me." 
 
 " In the evening I related how much I had been pleased, and 
 inquired what was extraordinary in the history of the poor wo- 
 man. Mr. said, there were perhaps few more remarkable 
 
 people than Helen Walker. She had been left an orphan, with 
 the charge of a sister considerably younger than herself, and 
 who was educated and maintained by her exertions. At- 
 tached to her by so many ties, therefore, it will not be easy to 
 conceive her feelings wlien she found that this only sister 
 must be tried by the laws of her country for child-murder, and 
 upon being called as principal witness against her. The 
 
INTRODUCTION TO THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN xi 
 
 counsel for the prisoner told Helen, that if she could declare 
 that her sister had made any preparations, however slight, or 
 had given her any intimation on the subject, such a statement 
 would save her sister's life, as she was the principal witness 
 against her. Helen said, ' It is impossible for me to swear 
 to a falsehood ; and, whatever may be the consequence, I will 
 give my oath according to my conscience.' 
 
 '"Tiie trial came on, and the sister was found guilty and 
 condemned ; but, in Scotland, six weeks must elapse between 
 the sentence and the execution, and Helen Walker availed her- 
 self of it. The very day of her sister's condemnation, she got a 
 petition drawn up, stating the peculiar circumstances of the 
 case, and that very night set out on foot to London. 
 
 "Without introduction or recommendation, with her sim- 
 ple, perhaps ill-expressed, petition, drawn up by some inferior 
 clerk of the court, she presented herself, in her tartan plaid 
 and country attire, to the late Duke of Argyle, who immedi- 
 ately procured the pardon she petitioned for, and Helen re- 
 turned with it on foot, just in time to save her sister. 
 
 '^ I was so strongly interested by this narrative, that I 
 determined immediately to j)rosecute my acquaintance with 
 Helen Walker ; but as I was to leave the country next day, I 
 was obliged to defer it till my return in spring, when the first 
 walk I took was to Helen ^Valker's cottage. 
 
 " She had died a short time before. My regret was ex- 
 treme, and I endeavored to obtain some account of Helen from 
 an old woman who inhabited the other end of her cottage. I 
 inquired if Helen ever spoke of her past history, her journey 
 to London, etc. ' Na,' the old woman said, ' Helen was a wily 
 body, and whene'er ony o' the neebors asked anything about 
 it, she aye turned the conversation.' 
 
 " In short, every answer I received only tended to increase 
 my regret, and raise my opinion of Helen Walker, who could 
 unite so much prudence with so much heroic virtue." 
 
 This narrative was enclosed in the following letter to the 
 Author, without date or signature: 
 
 " SiE — The occurrence just related happened to me 
 twenty-six years ago. Helen Walker lies buried in the church- 
 yard of Irongray, about six miles from Dumfries. I once pro- 
 posed that a small monument should have been erected to 
 commemorate so remarkable a character, but I now prefer 
 leaving it to you to perpetuate her memory in a more dura- 
 ble manner." 
 
Kii WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 The reader is now able to judge how far the Anthor has 
 improved upon, or fallen short of, the pleasing and interest- 
 ing sketch of high principle and steady affection displayed by 
 Helen Walker, the prototype of the fictitious Jeanie Deans. 
 Mrs. Goldie was unfortunately dead before the Author had 
 given his name to these volumes, so he lost all opportunity of 
 thanking that lady for her highly valuable communication. 
 But her daughter, Miss Goldie, obliged him with the follow- 
 ing additional information : 
 
 " Mrs. Goldie endeavored to collect further particulars of 
 Helen Walker, particularly concerning her journey to London, 
 but found this nearly impossible ; as the natural dignity of her 
 character, and a high sense of family respectability, made her 
 so indissolubly connect her sister's disgrace with her own exer- 
 tions, that none of her neighbors durst ever question her upon 
 the subject. One old woman, a distant relation of Helen's, 
 and who is still living, says she worked an harvest with her, 
 but that she never ventured to ask her about her sister's trial, 
 or her journey to London. ' Helen,' she added, ' was a 
 lofty body, and used a high style o' language.' The same old 
 woman says that every year Helen received a cheese from her 
 sister, who lived at Whitehaven, and that she always sent a 
 liberal portion of it to herself or to her father's family. This 
 fact, though trivial in itself, strongly marks the affection sub- 
 sisting between the two sisters, and the complete conviction 
 on the mind of the criminal that her sister had acted solely 
 from high principle, not from any want of feeling, which an- 
 other small but characteristic trait will further illustrate. A 
 gentleman, a relation of Mrs, Goldie's, who happened to be 
 travelling in the North of England, on coming to a small inn, 
 was shown into the parlor by a female servant, who, after 
 cautiously shutting the door, said, ' Sir, I'm Nelly Walker's 
 sister.' Thus practically showing that she considered her sis- 
 ter as better known by her high conduct than even herself by 
 a different kind of celebrity. 
 
 " Mrs. Goldie was extremely anxious to have a tombstone 
 and an inscription upon it erected in Irongray churchyard ; 
 and if Sir Walter Scott will condescend to write the last, a 
 little subscription could be easily raised in the immediate 
 neighborhood, and Mrs. Goldie's wish be thus fulfilled." 
 
 It is scarcely necessary to add, that the request of Miss 
 Goldie will be most willingly complied with, and without the 
 necessity of any tax on the public* Nor is there much oc- 
 
 * See Tombstone to Helen Walker. Nof p » 
 
INTRODUCTION TO THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN xiii 
 
 casiou to repeat how much the Author conceives himself 
 obliged to his unknown correspondent, who thus supplied him 
 with a theme affording such a pleasing view of the moral 
 dignity of virtue, though unaided by birth, beauty, or talent. 
 If the picture has suffered in the execution, it is from the 
 failure of the Author's powers to present in detail the same 
 dmple and striking portrait exhibited in Mrs. Goldie's letter. 
 
 Abbotsford, April 1, 1830. 
 
 Although it would be impossible to add much to Mrs. Goldie's 
 picturesque and most interesting account of Helen Walker, 
 the prototype of the imaginary Jeanie Deans, the Editor may 
 be pardoned for introducing two or three anecdotes respect- 
 ing that excellent person, which he has collected from a vol- 
 ame entitled Sketches from Nature, by John M^Diarmid, a 
 gentleman who conducts an able provincial paper in the town 
 of Dumfries. 
 
 Helen was the daughter of a small farmer in a place called 
 Dalquhairn, in the parish cf Irongray ; where, after the death 
 of her father, she continued, with the unassuming piety of a 
 Scottish peasant, to support her mother by her own unremit- 
 ted labor and privations ; a case so common that even yet, I 
 am proud to say, few of my countrywomen would shrink from 
 the duty. 
 
 Helen Walker was held among her equals '^pensy," that 
 is, proud or conceited ; but the facts brought to prove this 
 accusation seem only to evince a strength of character supe- 
 rior to those around her. Thus it was remarked, that when it 
 thundered, she went with her work and her Bible to the front 
 of the cottage, alleging that the Almighty could smite in the 
 city as well as in the field. 
 
 Mr. M'^Diarmid mentions more particularly the misfortune 
 of her sister, which lie supposes to have taken place previous 
 to 1736. Helen Walker, declining every proposal of saving 
 her relation's life at the expense of truth, borrowed a sum of 
 money sufficient for her journey, walked the whole distance 
 to London barefoot, and made her way to John Duke of 
 Argyle. She was heard to say that, by the Almighty's strength, 
 she had been enabled to meet the Duke at the most critical 
 moment, which, if lost, would have caused the inevitable for- 
 feiture of her sister's life. 
 
 Isabella, or Tibby Walker, saved from the fate which im- 
 
nv WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 pended over her, was married by the person who had wronged 
 her (named Waugh), and lived happily for great part of a 
 century, uniformly acknowledging the extraordinary affec- 
 tion to which she owed her preservation. 
 
 Helen Walker died about the end of the year 1791, and 
 her remains are interred in the churchyard of her native parish 
 of Irongray, in a romantic cemetery on the banks of the Cairn. 
 That a character so distinguished for her undaunted love of 
 virtue lived and died in poverty, if not want, serves only to 
 show us how insignificant, in the sight of Heaven, are our 
 principal objects of ambition upon earth. 
 
TO THE BEST OF PATROJfS, 
 
 A PLEASED AND INDULGENT READER, 
 
 JEDEDIAH CLEISHBOTHAM 
 
 wishes health, and increase, and contentment 
 
 Courteous Reader, 
 
 If ingratitude comprehendeth every vice, surely so foul a 
 stain worst of all beseemeth him whose life has been de- 
 voted to instructing youth in virtue and in humane letters. 
 Therefore have I chosen, in this prolegomenon, to unload 
 my burden of thanks at thy feet, tor the favor with which 
 thou hast kindly entertained the Tales of my Landlord. 
 Certes, if thou hast chuckled over their facetious and fes- 
 tivous descriptions, or liast thy mind filled with pleasure at 
 the strange and pleasant turns of fortune which they record, 
 verily, I have also simpered when I beheld a second story 
 with attics, that has arisen on the basis of my small domi- 
 cile at Gandercleugh. the walls having been aforehand pro- 
 nounced by Deacon Barrow to be capable of enduring such 
 an elevation. Nor lias it been without delectation that I 
 have endued a new coat (snuff-brown, and with metal but- 
 tons), having all nether garments corresponding thereto. 
 We do therefore lie, in respect of each other, under a re- 
 ciprocation of benefits, whereof those received by me being 
 the most solid, in respect that a new house and a new coat 
 are better than a new tale and an old song, it is meet that 
 my gratitude should be expressed with the louder voice and 
 more prepondei-ating vehemence. And how sliould it be so 
 expressed ? Certainly not in words only, but in act and 
 deed. It is with this sole purpose, and disclaiming all in- 
 tention of purchasing that pendicle or poffle of land called 
 the Carlinescroft. lying adjacent to my garden, and measur- 
 ingseven acres, three roods, and four perches, that I have com- 
 mitted to the eyes of those who thought well of the former 
 tomes, these four additional volumes* of the TaUs of my 
 
 * [The He' rt of Midlothian was originally published in four 
 "oiumes.j 
 
xvi WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 Landlord. Not the less, if Peter Pra3'fort be minded to sell 
 the said poffle, it is at his own choice to say so ; and, perad- 
 venture, lie may meet with a purchaser ; unless, gentle Eeader, 
 the pleasing pourtraictures of Peter Pattieson, now given unto 
 thee in particular, and unto the public in general, shall have 
 lost their favor in thine eyes, whereof I am no way distrust- 
 ful. And so much confidence do I repose in thy continued 
 favor, that, should thy lawful occasions call thee to the town 
 of Gandercleugh, a place frequented by most at one time or 
 other in their lives, I will enrich thine eyes with a sight of 
 those precious manuscripts whence thou hast derived so much 
 delectation, thy nose with a snuff from my mull, and thy 
 palate with a dram from my bottle of strong waters, called by 
 the learned of Gandercleugh the Dominie's Dribble o' Drink. 
 It is there, highly esteemed and beloved Eeader^ thou 
 wilt be able to bear testimony, through the medium of thine 
 own senses, against the children of vanit}^ who have sought 
 to identify thy friend and servant with I know not what 
 inditer of vain fables ; who hath cumbered the world with 
 his devices, but shrunken from the responsibility thereof. 
 Truly, this hath been well termed a generation hard of faith; 
 since what can a. man do to assert his property in a printed 
 tome, saving to put his name in the title-page thereof, with 
 his description, or designation, as the lawyers term it, and 
 place of abode ? Of a surety I would have such sceptics con- 
 sidf.r how they themselves would brook to have their works 
 ascribed to others^ their names and professions imputed as 
 "torgyries, nnd their very existence brought into question ; 
 *iven although, peradventure, it may be it is of little conse- 
 quence to any but themselves, not only whether they are liv- 
 ing or dead, but even whether they ever lived or no. Yet have 
 my maligners carried their uncharitable censures still farther. 
 These cavillers have not only doubted mine identity, although 
 thus plainly proved, but they have impeached my veracity 
 and the authenticity of my historical narratives ! Verily, I 
 can only say in answer, that I have been cautelous in quoting 
 mine authorities. It is true, indeed, that if I had hearkened 
 with only one ear, I might have rehearsed my tale with more 
 acceptation from those who love to hear but half the truth. 
 It is, it may hap, not altogether to the discredit of our kindly 
 nation of Scotland, tb^t we are apt to take an interest, warm, 
 yea partial, in the deeds and sentiments of our forefathers. 
 He whom his adversaries describe as a perjured Prelatist, is 
 desirous that his predecessors should be held moderate in 
 their power, and just in their execution of its privileges, when. 
 
INTRODUCTION TO THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN xvii 
 
 truly, the tinimpassioned peruser of the annals of those times 
 shall deem them sanguinary, violent, and tyrannical. 
 
 Again, the representatives of the suffering nonconform- 
 ists desire that their ancestors, the Cameronians, shall be rep- 
 resented not simply as honest enthusiasts, oppressed for con- 
 science' sake, but persons of fine breeding, and valiant heroes. 
 Truly, the historian cannot gratify these predilections. He 
 must needs describe the Cavaliers as proud and high-spirited, 
 cruel, remorseless, and vindictive ; the suffering party as hon- 
 orably tenacious of their opinions under persecution, their own 
 tempers being, however, sullen, fierce, and rude, their opin- 
 ions absurd and extravagant, and their whole course of conduct 
 that of persons whom hellebore would better have suited than 
 prosecutions unto death for high treason. Natheless, while 
 such and so preposterous were the opinions on either side, 
 there were, it cannot be doubted, men of virtue and worth on 
 both, to entitle either party to claim merit from its martyrs. 
 It has been demanded of me, Jedediah Cleishbotham, by what 
 right I am entitled to constitute myself an impartial judge of 
 their discrepancies of opinions, seeing (as it is stated) that I 
 must necessarily have descended from one or other of the con- 
 tending parties, and be, of course, wedded for better or for 
 worse, according to the reasonable practice of Scotla'nd, to its 
 dogmata, or opinions, and bound, as it were, by the tie matri- 
 monial, or, to speak without metaphor, ex jure sanguinis, to 
 maintain them in preference to all others. 
 
 But, nothing denying the rationality of the rule, which calls 
 on all now living to rule their political and religious opinions by 
 those of their great-grandfathers, and inevitable as seems the 
 one or the other horn of the dilemma betwixt which my adver- 
 saries conceive they have pinned me to the wall, I yet spy some 
 means of refuge, and claim a privilege to write and speak of 
 both parties with impartiality. For, ye powers of logic ! 
 when the Prelatists and Presbyterians of old times went together 
 by the ears in this unlucky country, my ancestor — venerated be 
 his memory ! — was one of the people called Quakers,* and suf- 
 fered severe handling from either side, even to the extenua- 
 tion of his purse and the incarceration of his person. 
 
 Craving thy pardon, gentle Keader, for these few words 
 concerning me and mine, I rest, as above expressed, thy sure 
 and obligated friend, J. Q 
 
 Ganderoleugh, this 1st of April, 1818. 
 
 * See Sir Walter Scott's Relations with the Quakers. Note •i. 
 
IHE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 
 
 CHAPTEE I 
 
 BEING INTKODUCTORT 
 
 So down thy hill, romantic Ashbourn, glides 
 The Derby dilly, carrying six insides. 
 
 Frere. 
 
 The times have changed in nothing more — we follow as we 
 were wont the manuscript of Peter Pattieson — than in the 
 rapid conveyance of intelligence and communication betwixt 
 one part of Scotland and another. It is not above twenty or 
 thirty years, according to the evidence of many credible wit- 
 nesses now alive, since a little miserable horse-cart, perform- 
 ing with difficulty a journey of thirty miles per diem, carried 
 our mails from the capital of Scotland to its extremity. Nor 
 was Scotland much more deficient in these accommodations 
 than our richer sister had been about eighty years before. 
 Fielding, in his Tom Jones, and Farquhar, in a little farce 
 called the Stage-Coach, have ridiculed the slowness of these 
 vehicles of public accommodation. According to the latter 
 authority, the highest bribe could only induce the coachman 
 to promise to anticipate by half an hour the usual time of his 
 arrival at the Bull and Mouth. 
 
 But in both countries these ancient, slow, and sure modes 
 of conveyance are now alike unknown: mail-coach races 
 against mail-coach, and high-flier against high-flier, through 
 the most remote districts of Britain. And in our village 
 alone, three post-coaches, and four coaches with men armed, 
 and in scarlet cassocks, thunder through the streets each day, 
 and rival in brilliancy and noise the invention of the cele- 
 brated tyrant : 
 
 Demens, qui nimbos et non imitabile fulmen, 
 ^re et cornipedum pulsu, simularat, equorum. 
 
 Kow and then, to complete the resemblance, and to cor- 
 rect the presumption of the venturous charioteers, it does 
 
2 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 happen that the career of these dashing rivals of Salmonens 
 meets with as undesirable and violent a termination as that 
 of their prototype. It is on such occasions that the " insides" 
 and "outsides," to use the appropriate vehicular phrases, 
 have reason to rue the exchange of the slow and safe motion 
 of the ancient fly-coaches, which, compared with the chariots 
 of Mr. Palmer, so ill deserve the name. The ancient veliicle 
 used to settle quietly down, like a shijD scuttled and^ left to 
 sink by the gradual influx of the waters, while the modern is 
 smashed to pieces with the velocity of the same vessel hurled 
 against breakers, or rather with the fury of a bomb bursting 
 at the conclusion of its career through the air. The late in- 
 genious Mr. Pennant, whose humor it was to set his face in 
 stern opposition to these speedy conveyances, had collected, 
 I have heard, a formidable list of such casualties, which, 
 joined to the imposition of innkeepers, whose charges the 
 passengers had no time to dispute, the sauciness of the coach- 
 man, and the uncontrolled and despotic authority of the ty- 
 rant called the guard, held forth a picture of horror, to which 
 murder, theft, fraud, and peculation lent all their dark color- 
 ing. But that which gratifies the impatience of the human 
 disposition will be practised in the teeth of danger, and in 
 defiance of admonition ; and, in despite of the Cambrian an- 
 tiquary, mail-coaches not only roll their thunders round the 
 base of Penmen- Maur and Cader-Edris, but 
 
 Frighted Skiddaw hears afar 
 The rattling of the unscythed car. 
 
 And perhaps the echoes of Ben Nevis may soon be awakened 
 by the bugle, not of a warlike chieftain, but of the guard of a 
 mail-coach. 
 
 It was a fine summer day, and our little school had ob- 
 tained a half-holiday, by the intercession of a good-humored 
 visitor.* I expected by the coach a new number of an inter- 
 esting periodical publication, and walked forward on the high- 
 way to meet it, with the impatience which Cowper has de- 
 scribed as actuating the resident m the country when longing 
 for intelligence from the mart of news : 
 
 The grand debate. 
 The popular harangue, the tart reply, 
 The logic, and the wisdom, and tlie wit, 
 And the loud laugh, — I long to know them all ; 
 I burn to set the imprison'd wranglers free, 
 And give thena voice and utterance again. 
 
 * His honor Gilbert Goslinn of Gandercleugh ; for I love to be precise in mat- 
 ters of importance.— J. C. 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 3 
 
 It was with such feelings that I eyed the approach of the 
 new coach, lately established on onr road, and known by the 
 name of the Somerset, which, to say truth, possesses some in- 
 terest for me, even when it conveys no such important infor- 
 mation. The distant tremulous sound of its wheels was heard 
 just as I gained tlie summit of the gentle ascent, called the 
 Goslin brae, from which you command an extensive view down 
 the valley of the river Gander. The public road, which comes 
 up the side of that stream, and crosses it at a bridge about a 
 quarter of a mile from the place where I was standing, runs part- 
 ly through enclosures and plantations, and partly through open 
 pasture land. It is a childish amusement perhaps — but my life 
 has been spent with children, and why should not my pleasures 
 be like theirs ? — childish as it is, then, I must own I have had 
 great pleasure in watching the approach of the carriage, where 
 the openings of the road permit it to be seen. The gay glan- 
 cing of the equipage, its diminished and toy-like appearance at 
 a distance, contrasted with the rapidity of its motion, its ap- 
 pearance and disappearance at intervals, and the progressively 
 increasing sounds that announce its nearer approach, have all 
 to the idle and listless spectator, who has nothing more im- 
 portant to attend to, something of awakening interest. The 
 ridicule may attach to me, which is flung upon many an honest 
 citizen, wlio watches from the window of his villa the passage of 
 the stage-coach ; but it is a very natural source of amusement 
 notwithstanding, and many of those who join in the laugh 
 are perhaps not unused to resort to it in secret. 
 
 On the present occasion, however, fate had decreed that I 
 should not enjoy the consummation of the amusement by seeing 
 the coach rattle past me as I sat on the turf, and hearing the 
 hoarse grating voice of the guard as he skimmed forth for my 
 grasp the expected packet, without the carriage checking its 
 course for an instant. I had seen the vehicle thunder down 
 the hill that leads to the bridge with more than its usual im- 
 petuosity, glittering all the while by flashes from a cloudy 
 tabernacle of the dust which it had raised, and leaving a train 
 behind it on the road resembling a wreath of summer mist. 
 But it did not appear on the top of the nearer bank within the 
 usual space of three minutes, which frequent observation had 
 enabled me to ascertain was the medium time for crossing the 
 bridge and mountiiag the ascent. When double that space 
 had elapsed, I became alarmed, and walked hastily forward. 
 As I came in sight of the bridge, the cause of delay was too 
 manifest, for the Somerset had made a summerset in good 
 earnest; and overturned so completely, that it was literally 
 
4 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 resting upon tlie ground, with the roof undermost, and the 
 four wheels iu the air. The " exertions of the guard and coach- 
 man," both of whom were gratefully commemorated in the 
 newspapers, having succeeded in disentangling the horses by- 
 cutting tlie harness, were now proceeding to extricate the " in- 
 sides " by a sort of summary and Caesarean process of delivery, 
 forcing the hinges from one of the doors which they could not 
 open otherwise. In this manner were two disconsolate damsels 
 set at liberty from the womb of the leathern conveniency. As 
 they immediately began to settle their clothes, which were a 
 little deranged, as ma} be presumed, I concluded they had re- 
 ceived no injury, and did not venture to obtrude my services 
 at their toilet, for which, I understand, I have since been 
 reflected upon by the fair sufferers. The "outsides," who 
 must have been discharged from their elevated situation by a 
 shock resembling the springing of a mine, escaped, neverthe- 
 less, with the usual allowance of scratches and bruises, except- 
 ing three, who, having been pitched into the river Gander, 
 were dimly seen contending with the tide, like the relics of 
 JEneas's shipwreck — 
 
 Rari apparent nantes in gurgite vasto. 
 
 I applied my poor exertions where they seemed to be most 
 needed, and with the assistance of one or two of the company 
 who had escaped unhurt, easily succeeded in fishing out two 
 of the unfortunate passengers, who were stout active young 
 fellows ; and but for the preposterous length of their great- 
 coats, and the equally fashionable latitude and longitude of 
 their Wellington trousers, would have required little assist- 
 ance from any one. * The third was sickly and elderly, and 
 might have perished but for the efforts used to preserve him. 
 
 When the two greatcoated gentlemen had extricated them- 
 selves from the river, and shaken their ears like huge water- 
 dogs, a violent altercation ensued betwixt them and the coach- 
 man and guard, concerning the cause of their overthrow. In 
 the course of the squabble, I observed that both my new ac- 
 quaintances belonged to the law, and that their professional 
 snarpness was likely to prove an overmatch for the surly and 
 official tone of the guardians of the vehicle. The dispute 
 ended in the guard assuring the passengers that they should 
 have seats in a heavy coach which would pass that spot in less 
 than half a hour, providing it were not full. Chance seemed 
 to favor this arrangement, for when the expected vehicle ar- 
 rived, there were only two places occupied in a carriage which 
 professed to carry six. The two ladies who had been disin 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 6 
 
 terred out of the fallen vehicle were readily admitted, but 
 jiositive objections were stated by those previously in posses- 
 sion to the admittance of the two lawyers, whose wetted gar- 
 ments being much of the nature of well-soaked sponges, there 
 was every reason to believe they would refund a considerable 
 part of the water they had collected, to the inconvenience of 
 tlieir fellow-passengers. On the other hand, the lawyers re- 
 jected a seat on the roof, alleging that they had only taken 
 that station for pleasure for one stage, but were entitled in 
 all respects to free egress and regress from the interior, to 
 which their contract positively referred. After some alter- 
 cation, in which something was said upon the edict Naut(B, 
 caupones, stabularii, the coach went off, leaving the learned 
 gentlemen to abide by their action of damages. 
 
 They immediately applied to me to guide them to the next 
 village and the best inn ; and from the account I gave them 
 of the Wallace Head, declared they were much better pleased 
 to stop there than to go forward upon the terms of that im- 
 pudent scoundrel the guard of the Somerset. All that they 
 now wanted was a lad to carry their travelling bags, who was 
 easily procured from an adjoining cottage ; and they prepared 
 to walk forward, when they found there was another passenger 
 in the same deserted situation with themselves. This was the 
 elderly and sickly-looking person who had been precipitated 
 into the river along with the two young lawyers. He, it seems, 
 had been too modest to push his own plea against the coach- 
 man wlien he saw that of his betters rejected, and now re- 
 mained behind with a look of timid anxiety, plainly intimat- 
 ing that he was deficient in those means of recommendation 
 which are necessary passports to the hospitality of an inn. 
 
 I ventured to call the attention of the two dashing young 
 blades, for such they seemed, to the desolate condition of their 
 fellow-traveller. They took the hint with ready good-nature. 
 
 " 0, true, Mr. Dunover,^' said one of the youngsters, "you 
 must not remain on the pave here ; you must go and have 
 some dinner with us ; Halkit and I must have a post-chaise 
 to go on, at all events, and we will set you down wherever 
 suits you best." 
 
 The poor man, for such his dress, as well as his diffidence, 
 bespoke him, made the sort of acknowledging bow by which 
 says a Scotchman, " It's too much honor for the like of me ;" 
 and followed humbly behind his gay patrons, all three be- 
 sprinkling the dusty road as they walked along with the 
 moisture of their drenched garments, and exhibiting the sin- 
 gular and somewhat ridiculous appearance of three persons 
 
6 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 suffering from the opposite extreme of humidity, while the 
 summer sun was at its height, and everything else around 
 them had the expression of heat and drought. The ridicule 
 did not escape the young gentlemen themselves, and they had 
 made what miglit be received as one or two tolerable jests on 
 the subject before they had advanced far on their peregri- 
 nation. 
 
 " We cannot complain, like Cowley," said one of them, 
 '" that Gideon's fleece remains dry, while all around is moist ; 
 this is the reverse of the miracle. ''' 
 
 " We ought to be received with gratitude in this good 
 town ; we bring a supply of what they seem to need most," 
 said Halkit. 
 
 " And distribute it with unparalleled generosity," replied 
 his companion ; "performing the part of three water-carts 
 for the benefit of their dusty roads." 
 
 "We come before them, too," said Halkit, "in full pro- 
 fessional force — counsel and agent " 
 
 "And client," said the young advocate, looking behind 
 him. And then added, lowering his voice, "that looks as if 
 he had kej)t such dangerous company too long." 
 
 Lt was, indeed, too true, that the humble follower of the 
 gay young men had the tlireadbare appearance of a worn-out 
 litigant, and I could not but smile at the conceit, though 
 anxious to conceal my mirth from the object of it. 
 
 When we arrived at the Wallace Inn, the elder of the Edin- 
 burgh gentlemen, and whom I understood to be a barrister, 
 insisted that I should remain and take part of their dinner : 
 and their inquiries and demands speedily put my Landlord and 
 his whole family in motion to produce the best cheer which 
 the larder and cellar afforded, and proceed to cook it to the 
 best advantage, a science in which our entertainers seemed to 
 be admirably skilled. In other respects they were lively young 
 men, in the heyday of youth and good spirits, playing the part 
 which is common to the higher classes of the law at Edin- 
 burgh, and which nearly resembles that of the young Tem- 
 plars in the days of Steele and Addison. An air of giddy 
 gayety mingled with the good sense, taste, and information 
 which their conversation exhibited ; and it seemed to be their 
 object to unite the character of men of fashion and lovers of 
 the polite arts. A fine gentleman, bred up in the thorough 
 idleness and inanity of pursuit which I understand is abso- 
 lutely necessary to the character in perfection, might in all 
 probability have traced a tinge of professional pedantry which 
 marked the barrister in spite of his efforts, and something of 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 7 
 
 active bustle in his companion, and would certainly have de- 
 tected more than a fashionable mixture of information and 
 animated interest in the language of both. But to me, who 
 had no pretensions to be so critical, my companions seemed to 
 form a very happy mixture of good-breeding and liberal in- 
 formation, with a disposition to lively rattle, pun, and jest, 
 amusing to a grave man, because it is what he himself can 
 least easily command. 
 
 The thin pale-faced man, whom their good-nature had 
 brought into their society, looked out of place, as well as out 
 of spirits, sat on the edge of his seat, and kept the chair at 
 two feet distance from the table, thus iiicommoding himself 
 considerably in conveying the victuals to his mouth, as if by 
 way of penance for partaking of them in the company of his 
 superiors. A short time after dinner, declining all entreaty 
 to partake of the wine, which circulated freely round, he in- 
 formed himself of the hour when the chaise had been ordered 
 to attend ; and saying he would be in readiness, modestly 
 withdrew from the aj)artment. 
 
 " Jack," said the barrister to his companion, " I remember 
 that poor fellow's face ; you spoke more truly than you were 
 aware of ; he really is one of my clients, jDoor man."'' 
 
 " Poor man ! " echoed Halkit. " I suppose you mean he 
 is your one and only client ? " 
 
 " That's not my fault. Jack," replied the other, whose 
 name I discovered was Hardie. " You are to give me all your 
 business, you know ; and if you have none, the learned gentle- 
 man here knows nothing can come of nothing." 
 
 "■ You seem to have brought something to nothing, though, 
 in the case of that honest man. He looks as if he were 
 just about to honor with his residence the Heaet of Mid- 
 
 LOTHIAlSr." 
 
 "You are mistaken: he is just delivered from it. Our 
 friend here looks for an explanation. Pray, Mr. Pattieson, 
 have you been in Edinburgh ?" 
 
 I answered in the affirmative. 
 
 " Then you must have passed, occasionally at least, though 
 probably not so faithfully as I am doomed to do, through a 
 narrow intricate passage, leading out of the north-west corner 
 of the Parliament Square, and passing by a high and antique 
 building, with turrets and iron grates, 
 
 " Making good the saying odd, 
 Near the church and far from God " 
 
 Mr. Halkit broke in upon his learned counsel to contrib- 
 
8 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 nte his moiety to the riddle — ''Having at the door the sign 
 of the Red Man " 
 
 " And being on the whole/' resumed the counsellor, inter- 
 rupting his friend in his turn, ''a sort of place where misfor- 
 tune is happily confounded with guilt, where all who are 'n 
 wish to get out " 
 
 " And where none who have the good luck to be out wish 
 to get in," added his companion. 
 
 *' I conceive you, gentlemen," replied I : " you mean the 
 prison." 
 
 "The prison," added the young lawyer. "You have hit 
 it — the very reverend tolbooth itself ; and let me tell you, 
 you are obliged to us for describing it with so much modesty 
 and brevity ; for with whatever amplifications we might have 
 chosen to decorate the subject, you lay entirely at our mercy, 
 since the Fathers Conscript of our city have decreed that the 
 venerable edifice itself shall not remain in existence to confirm 
 or to confute us." 
 
 " Then the tolbooth of Edinburgh is called the Heart of 
 Midlothian?" said I. 
 
 " So termed and reputed, I assure you." 
 
 " I think," said I, with the bashful diffidence with which 
 a man lets slip a pun in presence of his superiors, " the met- 
 ropolitan county may, in that case, be said to have a sad 
 heart." 
 
 " Right as my glove, Mr. Pattieson," added Mr. Hardie ; 
 " and a close heart, and a hard heart. Keep it up. Jack." 
 
 *' And a wicked heart, and a poor heart," answered Hal- 
 kit, doing his best. 
 
 '' And yet it may be called in some sort a strong heart, 
 and a high heart," rejoined the advocate. " You see I can 
 put you both out of heart." 
 
 "I have played all my hearts," said the younger gen- 
 tleman. 
 
 " Then we'll have another lead," answered his companion. 
 " And as to the old and condemned tolbooth, what pity the 
 same honor cannot be done to it as has been done to many of 
 its inmates. Why should not the tolbooth have its " Last 
 Speech, Confession, and Dying Words ? " The old stones 
 would be just as conscious of the lienor as many a poor devil 
 who has dangled like a tassel at the west end of it, while the 
 hawkers were shouting a confession the culprit had never 
 heard of." 
 
 " I am afraid," said I, "if I might presume to ^ive my 
 opinion, it would be a tale of unvaried sorrow and guilt." 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 9 
 
 ''Not entirely, my friend/' said Hardie ; "a prison is a 
 world within itself, and has its own business, griefs, and joys, 
 peculiar to its circle. Its inmates are sometimes short-lived, 
 but so are soldiers on service ; they are poor relatively to the 
 world without, but there are degrees of wealth and poverty 
 among them, and so some are relatively rich also. They can- 
 not stir abroad, but neither can the garrison of a besieged 
 fort, nor the crew of a ship at sea ; and they are not under a 
 dispensation quite so desperate as either, for they may have 
 as much food as they have money to buy, and are not obliged 
 to work whether they have food or not." 
 
 " But what variety of incident," said I, not without a secret 
 view to my present task, " could possibly be derived from such 
 a work as you are pleased to talk of ? " 
 
 " Infinite," replied the young advocate. " Whatever of 
 guilt, crime, imposture, folly, unheard-of misfortunes, and 
 unlooked-for change of fortune, can be found to ciiecker life, 
 my Last Speech of the Tolbooth should illustrate with ex- 
 amples sufficient to gorge even the public's all-devouring ap- 
 petite for the wonderful and horrible. The inventor of fic- 
 titious narratives has to rack his brains for means to diversify 
 his tale, and after all can hardly hit upon characters or inci- 
 dents which have not been used again and again, until they 
 are familiar to the eye of the reader, so that the develop- 
 ment, enlevement, the desperate wound of which the hero 
 never dies, the burning fever from which the heroine is sure 
 to recover, become a mere matter of course. I join with my 
 honest friend Crabbe, and have an unlucky propensity to 
 hope when hope is lost, and to rely upon the cork-jacket, 
 which carries the heroes of romance safe through all the bil- 
 lows of affliction." He then declaimed the following passage, 
 rather with too much than too little emphasis : 
 
 Much have I fear'd, but am no more afraid, 
 
 When some chaste beauty, by some wretch betray'd. 
 
 Is drawn away with such distracted speed. 
 
 That she anticipates a dreadful deed. 
 
 Not so do I. Let soUd walls impound 
 
 The captive fair, and dig a moat around ; 
 
 Let there be brazen locks and bars of steel, 
 
 And keepers cruel, such as never feel ; 
 
 With not a single note the purse supply, 
 
 And when she begs, let men and maids deny ; 
 
 Be windows those from which she dares not fall 
 
 And help so distant, 'tis in vain to call ; 
 
 Still means of freedom will some Power devi$e, 
 
 And from the baffled ruffian snatch his prize. 
 
10 WAVEBLEY NOVELS 
 
 ''The end of uncertainty/' he concluded, ''is the death 
 of interest ; and hence it happens that no one now reads 
 novels." 
 
 " Hear him, ye gods ! " returned his companion. "I as- 
 sure you, Mr. Pattieson, you will hardly visit this learned 
 gentleman but you are likely to find the new novel most in 
 repute lying on his table — snugly intrenched, however, be- 
 neath Stair's Institutes, or an open volume of Morison's 
 Decisions." 
 
 " Do I deny it ? " said the hopeful jurisconsult, " or where- 
 fore should I, since it is Avell known these Delilahs seduced 
 my wisers and my betters ? May they not be found lurking 
 amidst the multiplied memorials of our most distinguished 
 counsel, and even peeping from under the cushion of a jiidge's 
 arm-chair ? Our seniors at the bar, within the bar, and even 
 on the bench, read novels ; and, if not belied, some of them 
 have written novels into the bargain. I only say, that I read 
 from habit and from indolence, not from real interest ; that, 
 like Ancient Pistol devouring his leek, I read and swear till I 
 get to the end of the narrative. But not so in the real records 
 of human vagaries, not so in the State Trials, oy mi\\e Books 
 of Adjournal, where every now and then you read new pages 
 of the human heart, and turns of fortune far beyond what the 
 boldest novelist ever attempted to produce from the coinage 
 of his brain." 
 
 " And for such narratives," I asked, "you suppose the 
 history of the prison of Edinburgh might afford appropriate 
 materials ?" 
 
 " In a degree unusually ample, my dear sir," said Hardie. 
 "Fill your glass, however, in the meanwhile. Was it not for 
 many years the place in which the Scottish Parliament met ? 
 Was it not James's place of refuge, when the mob, inflamed 
 by a seditious preacher, broke forth on him with the cries of 
 ' The sword of the Lord and of Gideon ; bring forth the wicked 
 Haman ? ' Since that time how many hearts have throbbed 
 within these walls, as the tolling of the neighboring bell an- 
 nounced to them how fast the sands of their life were ebbing ; 
 how many must have sunk at the sound ; how many were sup- 
 ported by stubborn pride and dogged resolution ; how many 
 by the consolations of religion ? Have there not been some, 
 who, looking back on the motives of their crimes, were scarce 
 able to understand how they should have had such temptation 
 as to seduce them from virtue ? and have there not, perhaps, 
 been others, who, sensible of their innocence, were divided 
 Taetween indignation at the undeserved doom which they were 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 11 
 
 to undergo, consciousness that tliey had not deserved it, and 
 racking anxiety to discover some way in which they might yet 
 vindicate themselves ? Do you suppose any of these deep, 
 powerful, and agitating feelings can be recorded and perused 
 without exciting a corresponding depth of deep, powerful, 
 and agitating interest ? ! do but wait till I publish the 
 causes ceUbres of Caledonia, and you will find no want of a 
 novel or a tragedy for some time to come. The true thing 
 will triumph over the brightest inventions of the most ardent 
 imagination. Magna est Veritas, et prcevalelit." 
 
 "1 have understood," said I, encouraged by the affability 
 of my rattling entertainer, " that less of this interest must 
 attach to Scottish jurisprudence than to that of any other 
 country. The general morality of our people, their sober and 
 prudent habits " 
 
 " Secure them," said the barrister, " against any great in- 
 crease of professional thieves and depredators, but not against 
 wild and wayward starts of fancy and passion, producing crimes 
 of an extraordinary description, which are precisely those to 
 the detail of which we listen with thrilling interest. England 
 has been much longer a highly civilized country ; her subjects 
 have been very strictly amenable to laws administered with- 
 out fear or favor ; a complete division of labor has taken 
 place among her subjects ; and the very thieves and robbers 
 form a distinct class in society, subdivided among themselves 
 according to the subject of their depredations, and the mode 
 in which they carry them on, acting upon regular habits and 
 principles, which can be calculated and anticipated at Bow 
 Street, Hatton Garden, or the Old Bailey. Our sister king- 
 dom is like a cultivated field : the farmer expects that, in 
 spite of all his care, a certain number of weeds will rise with 
 the corn, and can tell you beforehand their names and appear- 
 ance. But Scotland is like one of her own Highland glens, 
 and the moralist who reads the records of her criminal juris- 
 prudence will find as many curious anomalous facts in the his- 
 tory of mind as the botanist will detect rare specimens among 
 her dingles and cliffs." 
 
 ''And that's all the good you have obtained from three 
 perusals of the Commentaries on Scottish Criminal Jurispru- 
 dence ? " said his companion. " I suppose the learned author 
 very little thinks that the facts which his erudition and acute- 
 ness have accumulated for the illustration of legal doctrines 
 might be so arranged as to form a sort of ajipendix to the 
 half-bound and slipshod volumes of the circulating library." 
 
 'Til bet you a pint of claret," said the elder lawyer. 
 
12 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 " that he will not feel sore at the comparison. But as we 
 say at the bar, ' I beg I may not be interrupted ; ' I have 
 much more to say upon my Scottish collection of causes cele- 
 bres. You will please recollect the scope and motive given 
 for the contrivance and execution of many extraordinary and 
 daring crimes, by the long civil dissensions of Scotland ; by 
 the hereditary jurisdictions, which, until 1748, rested the in- 
 vestigation of crimes in judges, ignorant, partial, or inter- 
 ested ; by the habits of the gentry, shut up in their distant 
 and solitary mansion-houses, nursing their revengeful passions 
 just to keep their blood from stagnating ; not to mention 
 that amiable national qualification, called the perfervidum 
 ingenium Scotorum, which our lawyers join in alleging as a 
 reason for the severity of some of our enactments. Wlien I 
 come to treat of matters so mysterious, deep, and dangerous 
 as these circumstances have given rise to, the blood of each 
 reader shall be curdled, and his epidermis crisped into goose- 
 skin. But, hist ! here comes the landlord, with tidings, I 
 suppose, that the chaise is ready." 
 
 It was ao such thing : the tidings bore, that no chaise 
 could be had that evening, for Sir Peter Plyem had carried 
 forward my Landlord's two pair of horses that morning to the 
 ancient royal borough of Bubbleburgh, to look after his interest 
 there. But as Bubbleburgh is only one of a set of five bor- 
 oughs which club their shares for a member of Parliament, 
 Sir Peter's adversary had judiciously watched his departure, 
 in order to commence a canvass in the no less royal borough of 
 Bitem, which, as all the world knows, lies at the very termina- 
 tion of Sir -Peter's avenue, and has been held in leading-strings 
 by him and his ancestors for time immemorial. Now, Sir 
 Peter was thus placed in the situation of an ambitious mon- 
 arch who, after having commenced a daring inroad into his 
 enemies' territories, is suddenly recalled by an invasion of his 
 own hereditary dominions. He was obliged in consequence 
 to return from the half-won borough of Bubbleburgh to look 
 after the half-lost borough of Bitem, and the two pairs of 
 horses which had carried him that morning to Bubbleburgh 
 were now forcibly detained to transport him, his agent, his 
 valet, his jester, and his hard-drinker across the country to 
 Bitem. The cause of this detention, which to me was of as 
 little consequence as it may be to the reader, was important 
 enough to my companions to reconcile them to the delay. 
 Like eagles, they smelled the battle afar off, ordered a magnum 
 of claret and beds at the Wallace, and entered at full career 
 into the Bubbleburgh and Bitem politics, with all the probable 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 13 
 
 " petitions and complaints" to which they were likely to give 
 rise. 
 
 In the midst of an anxious, animated, and. to me, most 
 unintelliji^ible discussion, concerning provosts, bailies, deacons, 
 sets 6f borouglis, leets, town clerks, burgesses resident and 
 non-resident, all of a sudden the lawyer recollected himself. 
 " Poor Dunover, Ave must not forget him; " and the landlord 
 was despatched in quest of the jJ^'^cvre honteiia\ with an earn- 
 estly civil invitation to him for the rest of the evening. I 
 could not lielp asking the young gentlemen if they knew the 
 history of this poor man ; and the counsellor applied himself 
 to his pocket to recover the memorial or brief from which he 
 had stated his cause. 
 
 " He has been a candidate for our remedhim miserahile," 
 said Mr, Hardie, " commonly called a cessio honorum. As 
 there are divines who have doubted the eternity of future 
 punishments, so the Scotch lawyers seem to have thought that 
 the crime of poverty might be atoned for by something short 
 of perpetual imprisonment. After a month's confinement, 
 you must know, a prisoner for debt is entitled, on a sufficient 
 statement to our Suj^reme Court, setting forth the amount of 
 his funds, and the nature of his misfortunes, and surrender- 
 ing all his effects to his creditors, to claim to be discharged 
 from prison." 
 
 " I had heard," I replied, " of such a humane regulation.^' 
 
 " Yes," said Halkit, " and the beauty of it is, as the for- 
 eign fellow said, you may get the cessio when the honoriims 
 are all spent. But what, are you puzzling in your pockets to 
 seek your only memorial among old play-bills, letters request- 
 ing a meeting of the faculty, rules of the Speculative Society,* 
 syllabus of lectures — all the miscellaneous contents of a young 
 advocate's pocket, which contains everything but briefs and 
 bank-notes ? Can you not state a case of cessio without your 
 memorial ? Why, it is done every Saturday. The events 
 follow each other as regularly as clockwork, and one form of 
 condescendence might suit every one of them." 
 
 "This is very unlike the variety of distress which this 
 gentleman stated to fall under the consideration of your 
 judges," said I. 
 
 "True," replied Halkit ; "but Hardie spoke of criminal 
 jurisprudence, and this business is purely civil. I could plead 
 a cessio myself without the inspiring honors of a gown and 
 three-tailed periwig. Listen. My client was bred a journey- 
 man weaver — made some little money — took a farm — (for con- 
 
 * A well-known debating club in Edinburgh (^Laing). 
 
14 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 ducting a farm, like driving a gig, comes by nature) — late 
 severe times — induced to sign bills for a friend, for which he 
 received no value — landlord sequestrates — creditors accept a 
 composition — pursuer sets up a public-house — fails a second 
 time — is incarcerated for a debt of ten pounds, seven shillings 
 and sixpence — his debts amount to blank — his losses to blank 
 — his funds to blank — leaving a balance of blank in his favor. 
 There is no opposition ; your lordships will please grant com- 
 mission to take his oath." 
 
 Hardie now renounced his ineffectual search, in which 
 there was perhaps a little affectation, and told us the tale of 
 poor Danover's distresses, with a tone in which a degree of 
 feeling, which he seemed ashamed of as unprofessional, 
 mingled with his attempts at wit, and did him more honor. 
 It was one of those tales which seem to argue a sort of ill-luck 
 or fatality attached to the hero. A well-informed, industrious, 
 and blameless, but poor and bashful, man had in vain essayed 
 all the usual means by which others acquire independence, 
 yet had never succeeded beyond the attainment of bare sub- 
 sistence. During a brief gleam of hope, rather than of actual 
 prosperity, he had added a wife and family to his cares, but 
 the dawn was speedily overcast. Everything retrograded with 
 him towards the verge of the miry Slough of Despond, which 
 yawns for insolvent debtors ; and after catching at each twig, 
 and experiencing the protracted agony of feeling them one by 
 one elude his grasp, he actually sunk into the miry pit whence 
 he had been extricated by the professional exertions of 
 Hardie. 
 
 '^ And, I suppose, now you have dragged this poor devil 
 ashore, you will leave him half naked on the beach to provide 
 for himself?" said Halkit. "Hark ye," and he whispered 
 something in his ear, of which the penetrating and insinuat- 
 ing words, "Interest with my lord," alone reached mine. 
 
 "It is jyessimi exempli," said Hardie, laughing, "to pro- 
 vide for a ruined client ; but I was thinking of what you 
 mention, provided it can be managed. But hush ! here he 
 comes." 
 
 The recent relation of the poor man's misfortunes had 
 given him, I was pleased to observe, a claim to the attention 
 and respect of the young men, who treated him with great 
 civility, and gradually engaged him in a conversation which, 
 much to my satisfaction, again turned upon the causes cele- 
 hres of Scotland. Emboldened by the kindness with which 
 he was treated, Mr. Diinover began to contribute his share 
 to the amusement of the evening. Jails, like other places. 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 16 
 
 have their ancient traditions, known only to the inhabitants, 
 and handed down from one set of the melancholy lodgers to 
 the next who occupy their cells. Some of these, which Dun- 
 oVer mentioned, were interesting, and served to illustrate the 
 narratives of remarkable trials which Hardie had at his finger- 
 ends, and Avhich his companion was also well skilled in. This 
 sort of conversation passed away the evening till the early 
 hour when Mr. Dunover chose to retire to rest, and I also re- 
 treated to take down memorandums of what I had learned, 
 in order to add another narrative to those which it had been 
 my chief amusement to collect, and to write out in detail. 
 The two young men ordered a broiled bone, Madeira negus, 
 and a pack of cards, and commenced a game at picquet. 
 
 Next morning the travellers left Gandercleugh. I after- 
 Avards learned from the papers that both have been since en- 
 gaged in the great political cause of Bubbleburgh and Bitem, 
 a summary case, and entitled to particular despatch ; but 
 which, it is thought, nevertheless, may outlast the duration 
 of the parliament to whicli the contest refers. Mr. Halkit, 
 as the newspapers informed me, acts as agent or solicitor ; 
 and Mr. Hardie opened for Sir Peter Plyem Avith singular 
 ability, and to such good purpose, that I understand he has 
 since had fewer play-bills and more briefs in his pocket. And 
 both the young gentlemen deserve their good fortune ; for I 
 learned from Dunover, who called on me some weeks after- 
 wards, and communicated the intelligence with tears in his 
 eyes, that their interest had availed to obtain him a small 
 office for the decent maintenance of his family ; and that, 
 after a train of constant and uninterrupted misfortune, he 
 could trace a dawn of prosperity to his having the good for- 
 tune to be flung from the top of a mail-coach into the river 
 Gander, in company with an advocate and a writer to the 
 signet. The reader will not perhaps deem himself equally 
 obliged to the accident, since it brings upon him the follow- 
 ing narrative, founded upon the conversation of the evening. 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 Whoe'er's been at Paris must needs know the Gr^re, 
 The fatal retreat of the unfortunate brave, 
 Where honor and justice most oddly contribute, 
 To ease heroes' pains by an halter and gibbet. 
 
 There death breaks the shackles which force had put on, 
 And the hangman completes what the judge but began ; 
 There the squire of the pad, and knight of the post, 
 Find their pains no more baulk'd, and their hopes no more cross'd. 
 
 Prior. 
 
 In former times, England had her Tyburn, to which the de- 
 voted victims of justice were conducted in solemn procession 
 up what is now called Oxford Road. In Edinburgh, a large 
 open street, or rather oblong square, surrounded by high 
 houses, called the Grassmarket, was used for the same melan- 
 choly purpose. Ic was not ill chosen for such a scene, being 
 of considerable extent, and therefore fit to accommodate a great 
 number of spectators, such as are usually assembled by this 
 melancholy spectacle. On the other hand, few of the houses 
 which surround it were, even in early times, inhabited by 
 persons of fashion ; so that those likely to be offended or over 
 deeply affected by such unpleasant exhibitions were not in the 
 way of having their quiet disturbed by them. The houses in 
 the Grassmarket are, generally speaking, of a mean descrip- 
 tion ; yet the place is not without some features of grandeur, 
 being overhung by the southern side of the huge rock on 
 which the castle stands, and by the moss-grown battlements 
 and turreted walls of that ancient fortress. 
 
 It was the custom, until within these thirty years or 
 thereabouts, to use this esplanade for the scene of public exe- 
 cutions. The fatal day was announced to the public by the 
 appearance of a huge black gallows-tree towards the eastern 
 end of the Grassmarket. This ill-omened apparition was of 
 great height, with a scaffold surrounding it, and a double 
 ladder placed against it, for the ascent of the unhappy crim- 
 inal and the executioner. As this apparatus was always ar- 
 ranged before dawn, it seemed as if the gallows had grown oat 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 17 
 
 of the earth in the course of one night, like the production of 
 some foul demon ; and I well remember the fright with which 
 the sclioolboys, when I was one of their number, used to re- 
 gard these ominous signs of deadly preparation. On the night 
 after the execution the gallows again disappeared, and was 
 conveyed in silence and darkness to the place where it was 
 usually deposited, which was one of the vaults under the 
 Parliament House, or courts of justice. This mode of execu- 
 tion is now exchanged for one similar to that in front of New- 
 gate, witli what beneficial eifect is uncertain. The mental 
 sufferings of the convict are indeed shortened. He no longer 
 stalks between the attendant clergymen, dressed in his grave- 
 clothes, through a considerable part of the city, looking like 
 a moving and walking corpse, while yet an inhabitant of this 
 world ; but as the ultimate purpose of punishment has in 
 view the prevention of crimes, it may at least be doubted 
 whether, in abridging the melancholy ceremony, we have not 
 in part diminished that appalling effect upon the spectators 
 which is the useful end of all such inflictions, and in consid- 
 eration of which alone, unless in very particular cases, capital 
 sentences can be altogether justified. 
 
 On the 7th day of September, 1736, these ominous prepar- 
 ations for execution were descried in the place we have de- 
 scribed, and at an early hour the space around began to be 
 occupied by several groups, who gazed on the scaffold and 
 gibbet with a stern and vindictive show of satisfaction very 
 seldom testified by the populace, whose good-nature in most 
 cases forgets the crime of the condemned person, and dwells 
 only on his misery. But the act of which the expected cul- 
 prit had been convicted was of a description calculated nearly 
 and closely to awaken and irritate the resentful feelings of the 
 multitude. The tale is well known ; yet it is necessary to re- 
 capitulate its leading circumstances, for the better under- 
 standing what is to follow ; and the narrative may prove long, 
 but I trust not uninteresting, even to those who have heard 
 its general issue. At any rate, some detail is necessary, in 
 order to render intelligible the subsequent events of our nar- 
 rative. 
 
 Contraband trade, though it strikes at the root of legiti- 
 mate government, by encroaching on its revenues ; though it 
 injures the fair trader, and debauches the minds of those en- 
 gaged in it, is not usually looked upon, either by the vulgar 
 or by their betters, in a very heinous point of view. On the 
 contrary, in those counties where it prevails, the cleverest, 
 boldest, and most intelligent of the peasantry are uniformly 
 
18 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 engaged in illicit transactions, and very often with the sanc- 
 tion of the farmers and inferior gentry. Smuggling was al- 
 most universal in Scotland in the reigns of George I. and II. ; 
 for the people, unaccustomed to imposts, and regarding them 
 as an unjust aggression upon their ancient liberties, made no 
 scruple to elude them whenever it was possible to do so. 
 
 The county of Fife, bounded by two firths on the south 
 and north, and by the sea on the east, and having a number 
 of small seaports, was long famed for maintaining successfully 
 a contraband trade ; and as there were many seafaring men 
 residing there, who had been pirates and buccaneers in their 
 youth, there were not wanting a sufficient number of daring 
 men to carry it on. Among these, a fellow called Andrew 
 Wilson, originally a baker in the village of Pathhead, was 
 particularly obnoxious to the revenue officers. He was pos- 
 sessed of great personal strength, courage, and cunning, was 
 perfectly acquainted with the coast, and capable of conducting 
 the most desperate enterprises. On several occasions he suc- 
 ceeded in baffling the pursuit and researches of the king's 
 officers ; but he became so much the object of their suspicions 
 and watchful attention that at length he was totally ruined 
 by repeated seizures. The man became desperate. He con- 
 sidered himself as robbed and plundered, and took it into his 
 head that he had a right to make reprisals, as he could find 
 opportunity. Where the heart is prepared for evil, oppor- 
 tunity is seldom long wanting. This Wilson learned that the 
 collector of the customs at Kirkcaldy had come to Pitten- 
 weem, in the course of his official round of duty, with a con- 
 siderable sum of public money in his custody. As the amount 
 was greatly within the value of the goods which had been 
 seized from him, Wilson felt no scruple of conscience in 
 resolving to reimburse himself for his losses at the expense 
 of the collector and the revenue. He associated with himself 
 one Robertson and two other idle young men, whom, having 
 been concerned in the same illicit trade, he persuaded to view 
 the transaction in the same justifiable light in which he himself 
 considered it. They watched the motions of the collector ; 
 they broke forcibly into the house where he lodged, Wilson, 
 with two of his associates, entering the collector's apartment, 
 while Robertson, the fourth, kept watch at the door with a 
 drawn cutlass in his hand. The officer of the customs, con- 
 ceiving his life in danger, escaped out of his bedroom window, 
 and fled in his shirt, so that the plunderers, with much ease, 
 possessed themselves of about two hundred pounds of public 
 money. This robbery was <^^mmitted in a very audacious 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 19 
 
 manner, for several persons were passing in the street at the 
 time. But Robertson, representing the noise they heard as a 
 dispute or fray betwixt the collector and the people of the 
 house, the worthy citizens of Pittenweem felt themselves no 
 way called on to interfere in behalf of the obnoxious revenue 
 officer ; so, satisfying themselves with this very superficial 
 account of the matter, like the Levite in the parable, they 
 passed on the opposite side of the way. An alarm was at 
 length given, military were called in, the depredators were 
 pursued, the booty recovered, and Wilson and Robertson tried 
 and condemned to death, chiefly on the evidence of an ac- 
 complice. 
 
 Many thought that, in consideration of the men's errone- 
 ous opinion of the nature of the action they had committed, 
 justice might have been satisfied with a less forfeiture than 
 that of two lives. On the other hand, from the audacity of 
 the fact, a severe example was judged necessary ; and such 
 was the opinion of the government. When it became appa- 
 rent that the sentence of death was to be executed, files, and 
 other implements necessary for their escape, were transmitted 
 secretly to the culprits by a friend from without. By these 
 means they sawed a bar out of one of the prison windows, and 
 might have made their escape, but for the obstinacy of Wilson, 
 who, as he was daringly resolute, was doggedly pertinacious 
 of his opinion. His comrade, Robertson, a young and slender 
 man, proposed to make the experiment of passing the foremost 
 through the gap they had made, and enlarging it from the 
 outside, if necessary, to allow Wilson free passage. Wilson, 
 however, insisted on making the first experiment, and being 
 a robust and lusty man, he not only found it impossible to 
 get through betwixt the bars, but, by his struggles, he jammed 
 himself so fast that he was unable to draw his body back 
 again. In these circumstances discovery became unavoidable ; 
 and sufficient precautions were taken by the jailer to prevent 
 any repetition of the same attempt. Robertson uttered not a 
 word of reflection on his companion for the consequences of his 
 obstinacy ; but it appeared from the sequel that Wilson's 
 mind was deeply impressed with the recollection that, but for 
 him, his comrade, over whose mind he exercised considerable 
 influence, would not have engaged in the criminal enterprise 
 which had terminated thus fatally ; and that now he had be- 
 come his destroyer a second time, since, but for his obstinacy, 
 Robertson might have effected his escape. Minds like Wilson's, 
 even when exercised in evil practices, sometimes retain the 
 power of thinking and resolving with enthusiastic generosity. 
 
30 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 His whole thoughts were now bent on the possibility of sav- 
 ing Eobertson's life, without the least respect to his own. 
 The resolution which he adopted, and the manner in which 
 he carried it into effect, were striking and unusual. 
 
 Adjacent to the tolbooth or city jail of Edinburgh is one of 
 ^hree churches into which the cathedral of St. Giles is now 
 divided, called, from its vicinity, the Tolbooth Church. It 
 was the custom that criminals under sentence of death were 
 brought to this church, with a sufficient guard, to hear and join 
 in public worshijj on the Sabbath before execution. It was 
 supposed that the hearts of these unfortunate persons, however 
 hardened before against feelings of devotion, could not but be 
 accessible to them upon uniting their thoughts and voices, for 
 the last time, along with their fellow-mortals, in addressing 
 their Creator. And to the rest of the congregation it was 
 thought it could not but be impressive and affecting to find 
 their devotions mingling with those who, sent by the doom of 
 an earthly tribunal to appear where the whole earth is judged, 
 might be considered as beings trembling on the verge of eter- 
 nity. The practice, however edifying, has been discontinued, 
 in consequence of the incident we are about to detail. 
 
 The clergyman whose duty it was to officiate in the Tol- 
 booth Church had concluded an affecting discourse, part of 
 which was particularly directed to the unfortunate men, Wilson 
 and Robertson, who were in the pew set apart for the persons 
 in their unhappy situation, each secured betwixt two soldiers 
 of the City Gruard. The clergyman had reminded them that 
 the next congregation they must join would be that of the just 
 or of the unjust ; that the psalms they now heard must be ex- 
 changed, in the space of two brief days, for eternal halle- 
 lujahs or eternal lamentations ; and that this fearful alternative 
 must depend upon the state to which they might be able to 
 bring their minds before the moment of awful preparation ; that 
 they should not despair on account of the suddenness of the 
 summons, but rather to feel this comfort in their misery, that, 
 though all who now lifted the voice, or bent the knee, in con- 
 junction with them lay under the same sentence of certain 
 death, they only had the advantage of knowing the precise 
 moment at which it should be executed upon them. " There- 
 fore," urged the good man, his voice trembling with emotion, 
 ''redeem the time, my unhappy brethren, which is yet left ; 
 and remember that, with the grace of Him to whom space and 
 time are but as nothing, salvation may yet be assured, even 
 in the pittance of delay which the laws of your country afford 
 yon/' 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 21 
 
 Robertson was observed to weep at these words ; but Wil- 
 son seemed as one whose brain had not entirely received their 
 meaning, or whose thoughts were deej)ly impressed with some 
 different subject ; an expression so natural to a person in his 
 situation that it excited neither suspicion nor surprise. 
 
 The benediction was pronounced as usual, and the con- 
 gregation was dismissed, many lingering to indulge their 
 curiosity with a more fixed look at the two criminals, who 
 now, as well as their guards, rose up, as if to depart when the 
 crowd should permit them. A murmur of compassion was 
 heard to pervade the spectators, the more general, perhaps, 
 on account of the alleviating circumstances of the case ; when 
 all at once, Wilson, who, as we have already noticed, was a 
 very strong man, seized two of the soldiers, one with each 
 hand, and calling at the same time to his companion, " Run, 
 Geordie, run ! " threw himself on a third, and fastened his 
 teeth on the collar of his coat. Robertson stood for a second 
 as if thunderstruck, and unable to avail himself of the ojo- 
 portunity of escape; but the cry of "Run, run \" being 
 echoed from many around, whose feelings surprised them 
 into a very natural interest in his behalf, he shook off the 
 grasp of the remaining soldier, threw himself over the pew, 
 mixed with the dispersing congregation, none of whom felt 
 inclined to stop a poor wretch taking this last chance for 
 his life, gained the door of the church, and was lost to all 
 pursuit. 
 
 The generous intrepidity which Wilson had displayed on 
 this occasion augmented the feeling of compassion which at- 
 tended his fate. The public, where their own prejudices 
 are not concerned being easily engaged on the side of disin- 
 terestedness and humanity, admired Wilson's behavior, and 
 rejoiced in Robertson's escape. This general feeling was so 
 great that it excited a vague report that Wilson would be 
 rescued at the place of execution, either by the mob or by 
 some of his old associates, or by some second extraordinary 
 and unexpected exertion of strength and courage on his own 
 part. The magistrates thought it their duty to provide 
 against the possibility of disturbance. They ordered out, 
 for protection of the execution of the sentence, the greater 
 part of their own City Guard, under the command of Captain 
 Forteous, a man whose name became too memorable from 
 the melancholy circumstances of the day and subsequent 
 events. It may be necessary to say a word about this person 
 and the corps which he commanded. But the subject is of 
 importance sufficient to deserve another chapter. 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 And thou, great god of aqua-vitae ! 
 Wha sways the empire of this city, 
 (When fou we're sometimes capernoity), 
 
 Be thou prepared, 
 To save us frae that black banditti, 
 
 The City Guard ! 
 
 Ferguson's Daft Dayt. 
 
 Captain John" Poeteous, a name memorable in the traditions 
 of Edinburgh, as well as in the records of criminal jurispru- 
 dence, was the sou of a citizen of Edinburgh, who endeavored 
 to breed him up to his own mechanical trade of a tailor. The 
 youth, however, had a wild and irreclaimable propensity to dis- 
 sipation, which finally sent him to serve in the corps long main- 
 rained in the service of the States of Holland, and called the 
 Scotch Dutch. Here he learned military discipline ; and re- 
 turning afterwards, in the course of an idle and wandering life, 
 to his native city, his services were required by the magistrates 
 of Edinburgh, in the disturbed year 1715, for disciplining their 
 City Gruard, in which he shortly afterwards received a captain's 
 commission. It was only by his military skill, and an alert and 
 resolute character as an officer of j)olice, that he merited this 
 promotion, for he is said to have been a man of profligate 
 habits, an unnatural son, and a brutal husband. He was, 
 however, useful in his station, and his harsh and fierce habits 
 rendered him formidable to rioters or disturbers of the public 
 peace. 
 
 The corps in which he held his command is, or perhaps we 
 should rather say toas, a body of about one hundred and twenty 
 soldiers, divided into three companies, and regularly armed, 
 clothed, and embodied. They were chiefly veterans who en- 
 listed in this corps, having the benefit of working at their 
 trades when they were off duty. These men had the charge 
 of preserving public order, repressing riots and street robber- 
 ies, acting, in short, as an armed police, and attending on all 
 public occasions where confusion or popular disturbance 
 might be expected.* Poor Ferguson, Avhose irregularities 
 
 * See Edinburgh City Guard. Note 3. 
 
 m 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 23 
 
 somtimes led him into unpleasant rencontres with these mili- 
 tary conservators of public order, and who mentions them 
 so often that he may be termed their poet laureate, thus ad- 
 monishes his readers, warned doubtless by his own experi- 
 ence : 
 
 Gude folk, as ye come frae the fair, 
 Bide yont frae this black squad ; 
 There's nae sic savages elsewhere 
 AUow'd to wear cockad. 
 
 In fact, the soldiers of the City Guard, being, as we have 
 said, in general discharged veterans, who had strength enough 
 remaining for this municipal duty, and being, moreover, for 
 the greater part, Highlanders, were neither by birth, educa- 
 tion, nor former habits trained to endure with much patience 
 the insults of the rabble, or the provoking petulance of truant 
 schoolboys, and idle debauchees of all descriptions, with whom 
 their occupation brought them into contact. On the con- 
 trary, the tempers of the poor old fellows were soured by the 
 indignities with which the mob distinguished them on many 
 occasions, and frequently might have required the soothing 
 strains of the poet we have just quoted — 
 
 O soldiers ! for your ain dear sakes, 
 For Scotland's love, the Land o' Cakes, 
 Gie not her bairns sic deadly paiks, 
 
 Nor be sae rude, 
 Wi' firelock or Lochaber axe, 
 
 As spill their bluid ! 
 
 On all occasions when a holiday licensed some riot and ir- 
 regularity, a skirmish with these veterans was a favorite recrea- 
 tion with the rabble of Edinburgh. These pages may perhaps 
 see the light when many have in fresh recollection such onsets 
 as we allude to. But the venerable corps with whom the con- 
 tention was held may now be considered as totally extinct. 
 Of late the gradual diminution of these civic soldiers reminds 
 one of the abatement of King Lear's hundred knights. The 
 edicts of each succeeding set of magistrates have, like those of 
 Goneril and Regan, diminished this venerable band with the 
 similar question, "' What need we five and twenty ? — ten ? — 
 or five ? " And it is now nearly come to, "What need one ? " 
 A spectre may indeed here and there still be seen, of an old gray- 
 headed and gray-bearded Highlander, with war-worn features, 
 but bent double by age ; dressed in an old-fashioned cocked 
 hat, bound with white tape instead of silver lace, and in coat, 
 waistcoat, and breeche.* of a muddy-colored red, bearing in 
 
94 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 his withered hand an ancient weapon, called a Lochaber axe, 
 a lon^ pole, namely, with an axe at tlie extremity and a hook 
 at the back of the liatchet.* Such a phantom of former days 
 still creeps, I have been informed, round the statue of Charles 
 the Second, in the Parliament Square, as if the image of a 
 Stuart were the last refuge for any memorial of our ancient 
 manners ; and one or two others are supposed to glide around 
 the door of the guard-liouse assigned to them in the Lucken- 
 booths when their ancient refuge in the High Street was laid 
 low. f Bat the fate of manuscripts bequeathed to friends and 
 executors is so uncertain, that the narrative containing these 
 frail memorials of the old Town Guard of Edinburgh, Avho, 
 with their grim and valiant corjjoral, Jolm Dim, the fiercest- 
 looking fellow I ever saw, were, in my boyhood, the alternate 
 terror and derision of the petulant brood of the High School, 
 may, perhaps, only come to light when all memory of the in- 
 stitution has faded away, and then serve as an illustration of 
 Kay's caricatures, who has preserved the features of some of 
 their heroes. In the preceding generation, when there was a 
 perpetual alarm for the plots and activity of the Jacobites, 
 some pains were taken by the magistrates of Edinburgh to 
 keep this corps, thougli composed always of such materials as 
 we have noticed, in a more effective state than was afterwards 
 judged ]iecessary, when their most dangerous service was to 
 skirmish with the rabble on tlie king's birthday. They were, 
 therefore, more the objects of hatred, and less that of scorn, 
 than tliey were afterwards accounted. 
 
 To Captain John Porteous the honor of his command and 
 of his corps seems to have been a matter of high interest and 
 importance. He was exceedingly incensed against Wilson for 
 the affront which he construed him to have put upon his sol- 
 diers, in the effort he made for the liberation of his compan- 
 ion, and expressed himself most ardently on the subject. He 
 was no less indignant at the report tliat there was an inten- 
 tion to rescue Wilson himself from the gallows, and uttered 
 many threats and imprecations upon that subject, which were 
 afterwards remembered to his disadvantage. In fact, if a good 
 deal of determination and promptitude rendered Porteous, in 
 one respect, fit to command guards designed to suppress pop- 
 ular commotion, he seems, on the other, to have been disqual- 
 ified for a charge so delicate by a hot and surly temper, always 
 too ready to come to blows and violence, a character void of 
 
 * This hook was to enable the bearer of the Lochaber axe to scale a gateway, by 
 grappling the top of the door and swinging himself up by the staff of his weapon, 
 t See Last March of the City Ouard. Note 4. 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAJ^ 2t 
 
 principle, and a disposition to regard the rabble, who seldom 
 failed to regale him and his soldiers with some marks of their 
 displeasure, as declared enemies, upon whom it was natural 
 and justifiable that he should seek opportunities of vengeance. 
 Being, however, the most active and trustworthy among the 
 captains of the City Guard, he was the person to whom the 
 magistrates confided the command of the soldiers appointed 
 to keep the peace at the time of Wilson's execution. He was 
 ordered to guard the gallows and scaffold, with about eighty 
 men, all the disposable force that could be spared for that duty. 
 But the magistrates took further precautious, which af- 
 fected Porteous's pride very deeply. They requested the as- 
 sistance of part of a regular infantry regiment, not to attend 
 upon the execution, but to remain drawn up on the principal 
 street of the city, during the time that it went forward, in 
 order to intimidate the multitude, in case they should be dis- 
 posed to be unruly, with a display of force which could not 
 be resisted without desjieration. It may sound ridiculous in 
 our ears, considering the fallen state of this ancient civic 
 corps, that its officer should have felt punctiliously jealous of 
 its honor. Yet so it was. Captain Porteous resented as an 
 indignity the introducing the Welsh Fusileers within the city, 
 and drawing them up in the street where no drums but his own 
 were allowed to be sounded without the special command or 
 permission of the magistrates. As he could not show his ill- 
 numor to his patrons the magistrates, it increased his in- 
 dignation and his desire to be revenged on the unfortunate 
 criminal Wilson, and all who favored him. These internal 
 emotions of jealousy and rage wrought a change on the man's 
 mien and bearing, visible to all who saw him on the fatal 
 morning when Wilson was appointed to suffer. Porteous's 
 ordinary appearance was rather favorable. He was about the 
 middle size, stout, and well made, having a military air, and 
 yet rather a gentle and mild countenance. His complexion 
 was brown, his face somewliat fretted with the scars of the 
 smallpox, liis eyes rather languid than keen or fierce. On 
 the present occasion, however, it seemed to those who saw 
 him as if he were agitated by some evil demon. His step waa 
 irregular, his voice hollow and broken, his countenance pale, 
 his eyes staring and wild, his speech imperfect and confused, 
 and his whole appearance so disordered that many remarked 
 he seemed to be "fey," a Scottish expression, meaning the 
 state of those who are driven on to their impending fate by 
 the strong impulse of some irresistible necesBity. 
 
36 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 One part of his conduct was truly diabolical, if, indeed, it 
 has not been exaggerated by the general prejudice entertained 
 against his memory. When Wilson, the unhappy criminal, 
 was delivered to him by the keeper of the prison, in order 
 that he might be conducted to the place of execution, Por- 
 teous, not satisfied with the usual precautions to prevent es- 
 cape, ordered him to be manacled. This might be justifiable 
 from the character and bodily strength of the malefactor, as 
 well as from the apprehensions so generally entertained of an 
 expected rescue. But the handcuffs which were produced 
 being found too small for the wrists of a man so big-boned as 
 Wilson, Porteous proceeded with his own hands, and by great 
 exertion of strength, to force them till they clasped together, 
 to the exquisite torture of the unhappy criminal. Wilson re- 
 monstrated against such barbarous usage, declaring that the 
 pain distracted his thoughts from the subjects of meditation 
 proper to his unhappy condition. 
 
 "It signifies little," replied Captain Porteous ; " your pain 
 will be soon at an end." 
 
 "Your cruelty is great," answered the suiierer. "You 
 know not how soon you yourself may have occasion to ask the 
 mercy which you are now refusing to a fellow-creature. May 
 God forgive you ! " 
 
 These words, long afterwards quoted and remembered, 
 were all that passed between Porteous and his prisoner ; but 
 as they took air and became known to the people, they greatly 
 increased the popular compassion for Wilson, and excited a 
 proportionate degree of indignation against Porteous, against 
 whom, as strict, and even violent, in the discharge of his un- 
 popular office, the common people had some real, and many 
 imaginary, causes of complaint. 
 
 When the painful procession was completed, and Wilson, 
 with the escort, had arrived at the scaffold in the Grassmar- 
 ket, there appeared no signs of that attempt to rescue him 
 which had occasioned such precautions. The multitude, in 
 general, looked on with deeper interest than at ordinary ex- ■ 
 ecutions ; and there might be seen on the countenances of 
 many a stern and indignant expression, like that with which 
 the ancient Cameronians might be supposed to witness the 
 execution of their brethren, who glorified the Covenant on 
 the same occasion, and at the same spot. But there was no 
 attempt at violence. Wilson himself seemed disposed to hasten 
 over the space that divided time from eternity. The devo- 
 tions proper and usual on such occasions were no sooner fin- 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 27 
 
 ished than he submitted to his fate, and the sentence of the 
 law was fulfilled. 
 
 He had been suspended on the gibbet so long as to be totally 
 deprived of life, when at once, as if occasioned by some newly 
 received impulse, there arose a tumult among the multitude. 
 Many stones were thrown at Porteous and his guards ; some 
 mischief was done ; and the mob continued to press forward 
 with whoops, shrieks, howls, and exclamations. A young 
 fellow, with a sailor's cap slouched over his face, sprung on 
 the scaffold and cut the rope by which the criminal was sus- 
 pended. Others approached to carry off the body, either to 
 secure for it a decent grave, or to try, perhaps, some means 
 of resuscitation. Captain Porteous was wrought, by this ap- 
 pearance of insurrection against his authority, into a rage so 
 headlong as made him forget that, the sentence having been 
 fully executed, it was his duty not to engage in hostilities with 
 the misguided multitude, but to draw off his men as fast as 
 possible. He sprung from the scaffold, snatched a musket 
 from one of his soldiers, commanded the party to give fire, and, 
 as several eye-witnesses concurred in swearing, set them the 
 example by discharging his piece and shooting a man dead on 
 the spot. Several soldiers obeyed his command or followed 
 his example ; six or seven persons were slain, and a great many 
 were hurt and wounded. 
 
 After this act of violence, the Captain proceeded to with- 
 draAV his men towards their guard-house in the High Street. 
 The mob were not so much intimidated as incensed by what 
 had been done. They pursued the soldiers with execrations, 
 accompanied by volleys of stones. As they pressed on them, 
 the rearmost soldiers turned and again fired with fatal aim 
 and execution. It is not accurately known whether Porteous 
 commanded this second act of violence ; but of course the 
 odium of the whole transactions of the fatal day attached to 
 him, and to him alone. He arrived at the guard-house, 
 dismissed his soldiers, and went to make his report to the 
 magistrates concerning the unfortunate events of the day. 
 
 Apparently by this time Captain Porteous had begun to 
 doubt the propriety of his own conduct, and the reception he 
 met with from the magistrates was such as to make him still 
 more anxious to gloss it over. He denied that he had given 
 orders to fire ; he denied he had fired with his own hand ; he 
 even produced the fusee which he carried as an officer for 
 examination : it was found still loaded. Of three cartridges 
 which he was seen to put in his pouch that morning, two were 
 still there ; a white handkerchief was thrust into the muzzle 
 
28 ■ WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 of the piece, and returned nnsoiled or blackened. To the 
 defence founded on these circumstances it was answered, that 
 Porteous had not used his own piece, but had been seen to 
 take one from a soldier. Among the many who liad been 
 killed and wounded by the unhappy fire, there were several 
 of better rank ; for even the humanity of such soldiers as fired 
 over the heads of the mere rabble around the scaffold proved 
 in some instances fatal to persons who were stationed in win- 
 dows, or observed the melancholy scene from a distance. 
 The voice of public indignation was loud and general ; and, 
 ere men's tempers had time to cool, the trial of Captain Por- 
 teous took place before tlie High Court of Justiciary. After 
 a long and patient hearing, the jury had the difficult duty of 
 balancing the positive evidence of many persons, and those 
 of respectability, who deposed positively to the prisoner's 
 commanding liis soldiers to fire, and himself firing his piece, 
 of wliich some swore that they saw the smoke and fiash, and 
 beheld a man drop at whom it was pointed, with the negative 
 testimony of others, who, though well stationed for seeing 
 what had passed, neither heard Porteous give orders to fire, 
 nor saw him fire himself ; but, on the contrary, averred that 
 the first shot was fired by a soldier who stood close by him. 
 A great part of his defence was also founded on the turbu- 
 lence of the mob, which witnesses, according to their feelings, 
 their predilections, and their opportunities of observation, 
 represented differently ; some describing as a formidable riot 
 what others represented as a trifling disturbance, such as 
 always used to take place on the like occasions, when the ex- 
 ecutioner of the law and the men commissioned to protect 
 him in his task were generally exposed to some indignities. 
 The verdict of the jury sufficiently shows how the evidence 
 preponderated in their minds. It declared that John Porte- 
 ous fired a gun among the people assembled at the execution ; 
 that he gave orders to his soldiers to fire, by which many per- 
 sons were killed and wounded ; but, at the same time, that 
 the prisoner and his guard had been wounded and beaten by 
 stones thrown at them by the multitude. Upon this verdict, 
 the Lords of Justiciary passed sentence of death against Cap- 
 tain Jolm Porteous, adjudging him, in the common form, to 
 be hanged on a gibbet at the common place of execution, on 
 Wednesday, 8th September, 1736, and all his movable prop- 
 erty to be forfeited to the king's use, according to the Scot- 
 tish law in cases of wilful murder. 
 
CHAPTEK IV 
 
 The hour's come, but not the man. * 
 
 Kelpie, 
 
 On the day when the unhappy Porteous was expected to suf- 
 fer the sentence of the law, the place of execution, extensive 
 as it is, was crowded almost to suffocation. There was not a 
 window in all the lofty tenements around it, or in the steep 
 and crooked street, called the Bow, by which the fatal pro- 
 cession was to descend from the High Street, that was not 
 absolutely filled with spectators. The uncommon height and 
 antique appearance of these houses, some of which were for- 
 merly the property of the Knights Templars and the Knights 
 of St. John, and still exhibit on their fronts and gables the 
 iron cross of these orders, gave additional effect to a scene in 
 itself so striking. The area of the Grassmarket resembled a 
 huge dark lake or sea of human heads, in the centre of which 
 arose the fatal tree, tall, black, and ominous, from which 
 dangled the deadly halter. Every object takes interest from 
 its uses and associations, and the erect beam and empty 
 noose, things so simple in themselves, became, on such an oc- 
 casion, objects of terror and of solemn interest. 
 
 Amid so numerous an assembly there was scarcely a word 
 spoken, save in whispers. The thirst of vengeance was in some 
 degree allayed by its supposed certainty ; and even the popu- 
 lace, with deeper feeling than they are wont to entertain, 
 suppressed all clamorous exultation, and prepared to enjoy 
 the scene of retaliation in triumph, silent and decent, though 
 stern and relentless. It seemed as if the depth of their 
 hatred to the unfortunate criminal scorned to display itself in 
 anything resembling the more noisy current of their ordinary 
 feelings. Had a stranger consulted only the evidence of his 
 ears, he might have supposed that so vast a multitude were 
 assembled for some purpose whicli affected them with the 
 deepest sorrow, and stilled those noises which, on all ordinary 
 occasions, arise from such a concourse ; but if he gazed upon 
 
 * See The Kelpie's Voice. Note 5k 
 
30 WAVEBLEY NOVELS 
 
 their faces he would have been instantly undeceived. The 
 compressed lip, the bent brow, the stern and flashing eye of 
 almost every one on whom he looked, conveyed the expression 
 of men come to glut their sight with triumphant revenge. It 
 is probable that the appearance of the criminal might have 
 somewhat changed the temper of the populace in his favor, 
 and that they might in the moment of death have forgiven 
 the man against whom their resentment had been so fiercely 
 heated. It had, however, been destined that the mutability 
 of their sentiments was not to be exposed to this trial. 
 
 The usual hour for producing the criminal had been past 
 for many minutes, yet the spectators observed no symptom 
 of his appearance. '• Would they venture to defraud pub- 
 lic justice ? " was the question which men began anxiously to 
 ask at each other. The first answer in every case was bold 
 and positive — " They dare not." But when the point was 
 further canvassed, other opinions were entertained, and 
 various causes of doubt were suggested. Porteous had been 
 a favorite officer of the magistracy of the city, which, being 
 a numerous and fluctuaiiug body, requires for its support a 
 degree of energy in its functionaries which the individuals 
 who compose it cannot at all times alike be supposed to pos- 
 sess in their own persons. It was remembered that in the in- 
 formation for Porteous (the paper, namely, in which his case 
 was stated to the judges of the criminal court), he had been 
 described by his counsel as tlie person on whom the magistrates 
 chiefly relied in all emergencies of uncommon difficulty. It 
 was argued, too, that his conduct, on the unhappy occasion 
 of Wilson's execution, was capable of being attributed to an 
 imprudent excess of zeal in the execution of his duty, a mo- 
 tive for which those under wliose authority he acted might 
 be supposed to have great sympathy. And as these consider- 
 ations might move the magistrates to make a favorable repre- 
 sentation of Porteous's case, there were not wanting others in 
 tlie higher departments of government which would make 
 such suggestions favorably listened to. 
 
 The mob of Edinburgh, when thoroughly excited, had 
 been at all times one of the fiercest which could be found in 
 Europe ; and of late years they had risen repeatedly against 
 the government, and sometimes not without temporary suc- 
 cess. They were conscious, therefore, that they were no 
 favorites with the rulers of the period, and that, if Captain 
 Porteous's violence was not altogether regarded as good ser- 
 vice, it might certainly be thought that to visit it with a cap- 
 ital punishment would render it both delicate and dangerous 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 31 
 
 for future officers, in the same circumstances, to act with 
 effect in repressing tumults. There is also a natural feeling, 
 on the part of all members of government, for the general 
 maintenance of authority ; and it seemed not unlikely that 
 what to the relatives of the sufferers appeared a wanton and 
 unprovoked massacre, should be otherwise viewed in the 
 cabinet of St, Jameses. It might be there supposed that, 
 upon the whole matter. Captain Porteous was in the exercise 
 of a trust delegated to him by the lawful civil authority ; 
 that he had been assaulted by the populace, and several of 
 his men hurt ; and that, in finally repelling force by force, his 
 conduct could be fairly imputed to no other motive than 
 self-defence in the discharge of his duty. 
 
 These considerations, of themselves very powerful, induced 
 the spectators to apprehend the possibility of a reprieve ; and 
 to the various causes which might interest the rulers in his 
 favor the lower part of the rabble added one which was pecul- 
 iarly well adapted to their comprehension. It was averred, 
 in order to increase the odium against Porteous, that, while he 
 repressed w"ith the utmost severity the slightest excesses of the 
 poor, he not only overlooked the license of the young nobles 
 and gentry, but was very willing to lend them the countenance 
 of his official authority in execution of such loose pranks as it 
 was chiefly his duty to have restrained. This suspicion, which 
 was perhaps much exaggerated, made a deep impression on 
 the minds of the populace ; and when several of the higher 
 rank Joined in a petition recommending Porteous to the mercy 
 of the crown, it was generally supposed he owed their favor 
 not to any conviction of the hardship of his case, but to the 
 fear of losing a convenient accomplice in their debaucheries. 
 It is scarcely necessary to say how much this suspicion aug- 
 mented the people's detestation of this obnoxious criminal, as 
 well as their fear of his escaping the sentence pronounced 
 against him. 
 
 While these arguments were stated and replied to, and 
 canvassed and supported, the hitherto silent expectation of the 
 people became changed into that deep and agitating murmur 
 which is sent forth by the ocean before the tempest begins to 
 howl. The crowded populace, as if their motions had corre- 
 sponded with the unsettled state of their minds, fluctuated to 
 and fro without any visible cause of impulse, like the agita- 
 tion of the waters called by sailors the ground-swell. The 
 news, which the magistrates had almost hesitated to com- 
 municate to them, were at length announced, and spread 
 among the spectators with a rapidity like lightning. A re- 
 
32 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 prieve from the Secretary of State's office, under the hand 
 of his Grace the Duke of Newcastle, had arrived, intimat- 
 ing the pleasure of Queen Caroline (regent of the kingdom 
 during the absence of George II. on the Continent), that 
 the execution of the sentence of death pronounced against 
 John Porteous, late Captain-Lieutenant of the City Guard 
 of Edinburgh, present prisoner in the tolbooth of that city, 
 be respited for six weeks from the time appointed for his 
 execution. 
 
 Tlie assembled spectators of almost all degrees, whose 
 minds had been wound up to the pitch which we have 
 described, uttered a groan, or rather a roar of indignation 
 and disappointed revenge, similar to that of a tiger from 
 whom his meal has been rent by his keeper when he was 
 just about to devour it. This fierce exclamation seemed to 
 forebode some immediate explosion of popular resentment, 
 and, in fact, such had been expected by the magistrates, 
 and the necessary measures had been taken to repress it. 
 But the shout was not repeated, nor did any sudden tumult 
 ensue, such as it appeared to announce. The populace 
 seemed to be ashamed of having expressed their disappoint- 
 ment in a vain clamor, and the sound changed, not into 
 the silence which had preceded the arrival of these stunning 
 news, but into stifled mutterings, which each group main- 
 tained among themselves, and which were blended into one 
 deep and hoarse murmur which floated above the assembly. 
 
 Yet still, though all expectation of the execution was 
 over the mob remained assembled, stationary, as it were, 
 through very resentment, gazing on the preparations for 
 death, which had now been made in vain, and stimulating their 
 feelings by recalling the various claims which Wilson might 
 have had on royal mercy, from the mistaken motives on 
 which he acted, as well as from the generosity he had dis- 
 played towards his accomplice. " This man," they said, 
 *' the brave, the resolute, the generous, was executed to 
 death without mercy for stealing a purse of gold, which in 
 some sense he might consider as a fair reprisal ; while the 
 profligate satellite, who took advantage of a trifling tumult, 
 mseparable from such occasions, to shed the blood of twenty 
 of his fellow-citizens, is deemed a fitting object for the 
 exercise of the royal prerogative of mercy. Is this to be 
 borne ? Would our fathers have borne it ? Are not we, 
 like them, Scotsmen and burghers of Edinburgh ? 
 
 The officers of justice began now to remove the scaffold 
 and other preparations which had been made for the execu • 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 83 
 
 tion, in hopes, by doing so, to accelerate the dispersion of the 
 multitude. The measure had the desired effect ; for no 
 sooner had the fatal tree been unfixed from the large stone 
 pedestal or socket in which it was secured, and sunk slowly 
 down upon the wain intended to remove it to the place where 
 it was usually deiDosited, than the populace, after giving vent 
 to their feelings in a second shout of rage and mortification, 
 began slowly to disperse to their usual abodes and occupa- 
 tions. 
 
 The windows were in like manner gradually deserted, and 
 groups of the more decent class of citizens formed themselves, 
 as if waiting to return homewards when the streets should be 
 cleared of the rabble. Contrary to what is frequently the case, 
 this description of persons agreed in general with the senti- 
 ments of their inferiors, and considered the cause as common 
 to all ranks. Indeed, as we have already noticed, it was by 
 no means among the lowest class of the spectators, or those 
 most likely to be engaged in the riot at Wilson's execution, 
 that the fatal fire of Porteous's soldiers had taken effect. 
 Several persons were killed who were looking out at windows 
 at the scene, who could not of course belong to the rioters, and 
 were persons of decent rank and conditions. The burghers, 
 therefore, resenting the loss which had fallen on their own 
 body, and proud and tenacious of their rights, as the citizens 
 of Edinburgh have at all times been, were greatly exasperated 
 at the unexpected respite of Captain Porteous. 
 
 It was noticed at the time, and aftei'wards more particu- 
 larly remembered, that, while the mob were in the act of dis- 
 persing, several individuals were seen busily passing from one 
 place and one group of people to another, remaining long with 
 none, but whispering for a little time with those who appeared 
 to be declaiming most violently against the conduct of govern- 
 ment. These active agents had the appearance of men from 
 the country, and were generally supposed to be old friends 
 and confederates of Wilson, whose minds were of course highly 
 excited against Porteous. 
 
 If, however, it was the intention of these men to stir the 
 multitude to any sudden act of mutiny, it seemed for the 
 time to be fruitless. The rabble, as well as the more decent 
 part of the assembly, dispersed, and went home peaceably ; 
 and it was only by observing the moody discontent on their 
 brows, or catching the tenor of the conversation they held 
 witli each other, that a stranger could estimate the state of 
 their minds. We will give the reader this advantage, by 
 associating ourselves with one of the numerous groups who 
 
34 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 ■were painfully ascending the steep declivity of the West Bow, 
 to return to their dwellings in the Lawnmarket. 
 
 . "An unco thing this, Mrs. Howden," said old Peter Plum- 
 damas to his neighbor the rouping-wif e, or saleswoman, as he 
 offered lier his arm to assist her in the toilsome ascent, ''to 
 see the grit folk at Lunnon set their face against law and 
 gospel, and let loose sic a reprobate as Porteous upon a peace- 
 able town ! " 
 
 " And to think o' the weary walk they hae gien us," an- 
 swered Mrs. Howden, with a groan ; " and sic a comfortable 
 window as I had gotten, too, just within a pennystane cast of 
 the scaffold — I could hae heard every word the minister said 
 — and to pay twal pennies for my stand, and a' for nae- 
 thing ! " 
 
 " I am Judging," said Mr. Plumdamas, " that this reprieve 
 wadna stand gude in the auld Scots law, when the kingdom 
 was a kingdom." 
 
 " I dinna ken muckle about the law," answered Mrs. 
 Howden ; " but I ken, when we had a king, and a chancellor, 
 and parliament men o' our ain, we could aye peeble them wi' 
 stanes when they werena gude bairns. But naebody's nails 
 can reach the length o' Lunnon." 
 
 " Weary on Lunnon, and &' that e'er came out o't ! " said 
 Miss G-rizel Damahoy, an ancient seamstress ; " they hae taen 
 awa' our parliament, and they hae oppressed our trade. Our 
 gentles will hardly allow that a Scots needle can sew ruffles 
 on a sark, or lace on an owerlay." 
 
 " Ye may say that. Miss Damahoy, and I ken o' them that 
 hae gotten raisins frae Lunnon by forpits at ance," responded 
 Plumdamas ; " and then sic an host of idle English gangers 
 and excisemen as hae come down to vex and torment us, that 
 an honest man canna fetch sae muckle as a bit anker o' 
 brandy frae Leith to the Lawnmarket, but he's like to be 
 rubbit o' the very gudes he's bought and paid for. Weel, I 
 winna justify Andrew Wilson for pitting hands on what wasna 
 his ; but if he took nae mair than his ain, there's an awfu' 
 difference between that and the fact this man stands for." 
 
 " If ye speak about the law," said Mrs. Howden, "here 
 comes Mr. Saddletree, that can settle it as weel as ony on the 
 bench." 
 
 The party she mentioned, a grave elderly person, with 
 a superb periwig, dressed in a decent suit of sad-colored 
 clothes, came up as she spoke, and courteously gave his arm 
 to Miss Grizel Damahoy. 
 
 It may be necessary to mention that Mr. Bartoline Saddle- 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 3& 
 
 tree kept an excellent and highly esteemed shop for harness, 
 saddles, etc., etc., at the. sign of the Golden Nag, at the head 
 of Bess Wynd.* His genius, however (as he himself and 
 most of his neighbors conceived), lay towards the weightier 
 matters of the law, and he failed not to give frequent attend- 
 ance upon the pleadings and arguments of the lawyers and 
 judges in the neighboring square, where, to say the truth, he 
 was oftener to be found than would have consisted with his 
 own emolument ; but that his wife, an active painstaking per- 
 son, could, in his absence, make an admirable shift to please 
 the customers and scold the journeymen. This good lady 
 was in the habit of letting her husband take his way, and go 
 on improving his stock of legal knowledge without interrup- 
 tion ; but, as if in requital, she insisted upon having her own 
 will in the domestic and commercial departments which he 
 abandoned to her. Now, as Bartoline Saddletree had a con- 
 siderable gift of words, which he mistook for eloquence, and 
 conferred more liberally upon the society in which he lived 
 than was at all times gracious and acceptable, there went forth 
 a saying, with which wags used sometimes to interrupt his 
 rhetoric, that, as he had a golden nag at his door, so he had a 
 gray mare in his shoj). This reproach induced Mr. Saddle- 
 tree, on all occasions, to assume rather a haughty and stately 
 tone towards his good woman, a circumstance by which she 
 seemed very little affected, unless he attempted to exercise 
 any real authority, when she never failed to fly into open re- 
 bellion. But such extremes Bartoline seldom provoked ; for, 
 like the gentle King Jamie, he was fonder of talking of au- 
 thority than really exercising it. This turn of mind was on 
 the whole lucky for him ; since his substance was increased 
 without any trouble on his part, or any interruption of his 
 favorite studies. 
 
 This word in explanation has been thrown in to the reader 
 while Saddletree was laying down, with great precision, the 
 law upon Porteous's case, by which he arrived at this conclu- 
 sion, that, if Porteous had fired five minutes sooner, before 
 Wilson was cut down, he would have been versans in licito, 
 engaged, that is, in a lawful act, and only liable to be pun- 
 ished propter excessum, or for lack of discretion, which might 
 have mitigated the punishment to jo^w« ordinaria. 
 
 " Discretion ! " echoed Mrs. Howden, on whom, it may 
 well be supposed, the fineness of this distinction was entirely 
 thrown away, " whan had Jock Porteous either grace, dia* 
 cretion, or gude manners ? I mind when his father '* 
 
 * See Bees Wynd. Note 6. 
 
3ft WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 " But, Mrs. Howden " said Saddletree. 
 
 ''And I," said Miss Damahoy, ''mind when his moth- 
 er- 
 
 " Miss Damahoy " entreated the interrupted orator. 
 
 ''And I," said Plumdamas, " mind when liis wife " 
 
 "Mr. Plumdamas — Mrs. Howden — Miss Damahoy/' again 
 implored the orator, " mind the distinction," as Counsellor 
 Crossmyloof says — 'I,' says he, 'take a distinction.' Now, 
 the body of the criminal being cut down, and the execution 
 ended, Porteous was no longer official ; the act which he came 
 to protect and guard being done and ended, he was no better 
 than cuivis ex populo." 
 
 " Quivis — quivis, Mr. Saddletree, craving your pardon," 
 said, with a prolonged emphasis on the first syllable, Mr. 
 Butler, the deputy schoolmaster of a parish near Edinburgh, 
 who at that moment came up behind them as the false Latin 
 was uttered. 
 
 " What signifies interrupting me, Mr. Butler ? — but I am 
 glad to see ye notwithstanding. I speak after Counsellor 
 Crossmyloof, and he said cuivis." 
 
 "If Counsellor Crossmyloof used the dative for the nom- 
 inative, I would have crossed his loof with a tight leathern 
 strap, Mr. Saddletree ; there is not a boy on the booby form 
 but should have been scourged for such a solecism in gram- 
 mar." 
 
 " I speak Latin like a lawyer, Mr. Butler, and not like a 
 schoolmaster," retorted Saddletree. 
 
 " Scarce like a schoolboy, I think," rejoined Butler. 
 
 "It matters little," said Bartoline ; "all I mean to say is, 
 that Porteous has become liable to the poena extra ordinem 
 or capital punishment, which is to say, in plain Scotcli, the 
 gallows, simply because he did not fire when he was iii office, 
 but waited till the body was cut down, the execution whilk he 
 had in charge to guard implemented, and he himself exonered 
 of the public trust imposed on him." 
 
 " But, Mr. Saddletree," said Plumdamas, " do ye really 
 think John Porteous's case wad hae been better if he had be- 
 gun firing before ony stanes were flung at a' ? " 
 
 " Indeed do I, neighbor Plumdamas," replied Bartoline. 
 confideutly, " he being then in point of trust and in point of 
 power, the execution being but inchoate, or, at least, not im- 
 plemented, or finally ended ; but after Wilson was cut down 
 it was a' ower — he was clean exauctorate, and had nae mair 
 ado but to get awa' wi' his Guard up this West Bow as fast as 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 37 
 
 if there had been a caption after him. And this is law, for I 
 heard it laid down by Lord Vincovincentem." 
 
 '' Vincovincenteni ! Ishealordof stateoralordof seat ?'* 
 inquired Mrs. Howden. 
 
 " A lord of seat — a lord of session. I fash mysell little wi' 
 lords o' state ; they vex me wi' a wheen idle questions about 
 their saddles, and curpels, and holsters, and horse-furniture, 
 and what they'll cost, and whan they'll be ready. A wheen 
 galloping geese ! my wife may serve the like o' them." 
 
 "And so might she, in her day, hae served the best lord in 
 the land, for as little as ye think o' her, Mr. Saddletree," said 
 Mrs. Howden, somewhat indignant at the contemptuous way in 
 which her gossip was mentioned ; "■ when she and I were twa 
 gilpies, we little thought to hae sitten doun wi' the like o' my 
 auld Davie Howden, or you either, Mr. Saddletree." 
 
 While Saddletree, who was not bright at a reply, was cud- 
 gelling his brains for an answer to this home-thrust. Miss 
 Damahoy broke in on him. 
 
 " And as for the lords of state," said Miss Damahoy, "ye 
 suld mind the riding o' the parliament, Mr. Saddletree, in the 
 gude auld time before tlie Union : a year's rent o' mony a gude 
 estate gaed for horse-graith and harnessing, forbye broidered 
 robes and foot-mantles, that wad hae stude by their lane wi' 
 gold brocade, and that were muckle in my ain line." 
 
 " Ay, and then the lusty banqueting, with sweetmeats and 
 comfits wet and dry, and dried fruits of divers sorts," said Plum- 
 damas. " But Scotland was Scotland in these days." 
 
 " I'll tell ye what it is, neighbors," said Mrs. Howden, 
 " I'll ne'er believe Scotland is Scotland ony mair, if our kindly 
 Scots sit doun with the affront they hae gien us this day. It's 
 not only the bluid that is shed, but the bluid that might hae 
 been shed, that's required at our hands. There was my 
 daughter's wean, little Eppie Daidle — my oe, ye ken. Miss 
 Grizel — had played the truant frae the school, as bairns will 
 do, ye ken, Mr. Butler " 
 
 "And for which," interjected Mr. Butler, "they should 
 be soundly scourged by their well-wishers." 
 
 " And had just cruppen to the gallows' foot to see the Ixang- 
 ing, as was natural for a wean ; and what for mightna she hae 
 been shot as weel as the rest o' them, and where wad we a' hae 
 been then ? I wonder how Queen Carline — if her name be 
 Carline — wad hae liked to hae had ane o' her ain bairns in sic a 
 venture ? " 
 
 " Report says. "answered Butler, " that such a circumstance 
 would not have distressed her Majesty beyond endur«Ti'^» " 
 
38 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 *' Aweel/* said Mrs. Howden, "the sum o' the matter is, 
 that, were I a man, 1 wad hae amends o' Jock Porteous, be 
 the upshot what like o% if a' the carles and carlines in Eng- 
 land had sworn to the nay-say." 
 
 "\ would claw down the tolbooth door wi' my nails," said 
 Miss Grizel, "but I wad be at him." 
 
 " Ye may be very right, ladies," said Butler, " but I would 
 not advise you to speak so loud." 
 
 '' Speak !" exclaimed both the ladies together, " there will 
 be naething else spoken about frae the Weigh House to the 
 Water Gate till this is either ended or mended." 
 
 The females now departed to their respective places of 
 abode. Plumdamas joined the other two gentlemen in drink- 
 ing their " meridian," a bumper-dram of brandy, as they passed 
 the well-known low-browed shop in the Lawnmarket where they 
 were wont to take that refreshment. Mr. Plumdamas then 
 departed towards his shop, and Mr. Butler, who happened to 
 have some par^'icular occasion for the rein of an old bridle — 
 the truants of ^hat busy day could have anticipated its aj^pli - 
 cation — walked down the Law^imarket with Mr. Saddletree, 
 each ta.Ving as ne could get a word thrust in, the one on the 
 laws of >^cotlani, the other on those of syntax, and neither 
 listening to a word which nig companion uttered. 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 Elswhair he colde right weel lay down the law, 
 But in his house was meek as is a daw. 
 
 Davie Lindsay. 
 
 "Therf. has been Jock Driver, the carrier, here, speering 
 about his new graith," said Mrs. Saddletree to her husband, 
 as he crossed his threshold, not with the purpose, by any 
 means, of consulting him upon his own affairs, but merely to 
 intimate, by a gentle recapitulation, how much duty she had 
 gone through in his absence. 
 
 " Weel," replied Bartoline, and deigned not a word more. 
 
 "And the Laird of Girdingburst has had his running 
 footman here, and ca'd himsell — he's a civil pleasant young 
 gentleman — to see when the broidered saddle-cloth for his 
 Borrel horse will be ready, for he wants it again the Kelso 
 races." 
 
 "Weel, aweel," replied Bartoline, as laconically as before. 
 
 " And his lordship, the Earl of Blazonbury, Lord Flash 
 and Flame, is like to be clean daft that the harness for the six 
 Flanders mears, wi' the crests, coronets, housings, and mount- 
 ings conform, are no sent hame according to promise gien." 
 
 "Weel, weel, weel — weel, weel, gudewife," said Saddle- 
 tree, "if he gangs daft, we'll hae him cognosced — it's a' 
 very weel." 
 
 "" It's weel that ye think sae, Mr. Saddletree," answered 
 Lis helpmate, rather nettled at the indifference with which 
 her report was received ; " there's mony ane wad hae thought 
 themselves affronted if sae mony customers had ca'd and nae- 
 body to answer them but womenfolk ; for a' the lads were aff, 
 as soon as your back was turned, to see Porteous hanged, that 
 might be counted upon ; and sae, you no being at hamc '^ 
 
 " Houts, Mrs. Saddletree," said Bartoline, with an air of 
 consequence, "dinna deave me wi' your nonsense; I was 
 cinder the necessity of being elsewhere : non omnia, as Mr. 
 Crossmyloof said, when he was called by two macers at once 
 — non omnia possumus — pessimus — possimis — I ken our law 
 Latin offends Mr. Butler's ears, but it means ' Naebody/ an 
 
 80 
 
40 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 it were the Lord President liimsell, ' can do twa turns at 
 ance. ' " 
 
 " Very right, Mr. Saddletree," answered his careful help- 
 mate, with a sarcastic smile; "and nae doubt it's a decent 
 thing to leave your wife to look after young gentlemen's sad- 
 dles and bridles, when ye gang to see a man that never did ye 
 nae ill raxing a halter." 
 
 " Woman," said Saddletree, assuming an elevated tone, to 
 which the "meridian" had somewhat contributed, "desist — 
 I say forbear, from intromitting with affairs thou canst not 
 understand. D'ye think I was born to sit here broggin an 
 elshin through bend-leather, when sic men as Duncan Forbes 
 and that other Arniston chield there, without muckle greater 
 parts, if the close-head speak true, than mysell, maun be pres- 
 idents and king's advocates, nae doubt, and wha but they ? 
 Wliereas, were favor equally distribute, as in the days of the 
 wight Wallace " 
 
 " I ken naethingwe wad hae gotten by the wight Wallace," 
 said Mrs. Saddletree, " unless, as I hae heard the auld folk 
 tell, they fought in thae days wi' bend-leather guns, and then 
 it's a chance but what, if he had bouglitthem, he might have 
 forgot to pay for them. And as for tlie greatness of your parts, 
 Bartley, the folk in the close-head maun ken mair about them 
 than I do, if they make sic a report of them." 
 
 " I tell ye, woman," said Saddletree, in high dudgeon, 
 "that ye ken naething about these matters. In Sir William 
 Wallace's days there was nae man pinned down to sic a slavish 
 wark as a saddler's, for they got ony leather graith that they 
 had use for ready-made out of Holland." 
 
 " Well," said Butler, who was, like many of his profession, 
 something of a humorist and dry joker, " if tliat be the case, 
 Mr. Saddletree, I think we have changed for the better ; since 
 we make our own harness, and only import our lawvers from 
 Holland." 
 
 "It's ower true, Mr. Butler," answered Bartoline, with a 
 sigh ; " if I had had the luck — or rather, if my father liad had 
 the sense to send me to Leyden and Utrecht to learn the 
 Substitutes and Panclex " 
 
 "You mean the Institutes — Justinian's Institutes, Mr. 
 Saddletree ? " said Butler. 
 
 " Institutes and substitutes are synonymous words, Mr. 
 Butler, and used indifferently as such in deeds of tailzie, as 
 you may see in Balfour's Prac/ig'^/es, or Dallas of St. Martin's 
 Styles. I understand these tilings pretty weel, I thank God ; 
 but I own I should have studied in Holland." 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 41 
 
 "To comfort yon, you might not have been farther for- 
 ward than you are now, Mr. Saddletree," replied Mr. Butler ; 
 '' for our Scottish advocates are an aristocratic race. Their 
 brass is of the right Corinthian quality, and Non cuivis con- 
 tigit adire (Jorintlium. Aha, Mr. Saddletree ! " 
 
 " And aha, Mr. Butler,'' rejoined Bartoline, upon whom, 
 as may be well supposed, the jest was lost, and all but the 
 sound of the words, "ye said a gliff syne it was qttivis, and 
 now I heard ye say cuivis with my ain ears, as plain as ever 
 I heard a word at the fore-bar. '' 
 
 " Give me your patience, Mr. Saddletree, and I'll explain 
 the discrepancy in three words," said Butler, as pedantic in 
 his own department, though with infinitely more judgment 
 and learning, as Bartoline was in his self-assumed profession 
 of the law. "Give me your patience for a moment. You'll 
 grant that the nominative case is that by which a person or 
 thing is nominated or designed, and which may be called the 
 primary case, all others being formed from it by alterations 
 of the termination in the learned languages, and by preposi- 
 tions in our modern Babylonian jargons ? You'll grant me 
 that, I suppose, Mr. Saddletree ? " 
 
 " I dinna ken whether I will or no — ad avisandiim , ye ken 
 — naebody should be in a hurry to make admissions, either in 
 point of law or in point of fact," said Saddletree, looking, or 
 endeavoring to look, as if he understood what was said. 
 
 " And the dative case " continued Butler. 
 
 "I ken what a tutor dative is," said Saddletree, "readily 
 enough." 
 
 "The dative case," resumed the grammarian, "is that in 
 which anything is given or assigned as properly belonging to 
 a person or thing. You cannot deny that, I am sure." 
 
 "I am sure I'll no grant it though," said Saddletree. 
 
 " Then, what the deevil d'ye take the nominative and the 
 dative cases to be ? " said Butler, hastily, and surprised at once 
 out of his decency of expression and accuracy of pronuncia- 
 tion. 
 
 "I'll tell you that at leisure, Mr. Butler," said Saddletree, 
 with a very knowing look. "I'll take a day to see and an- 
 swer every article of your condescendence, and then I'll hold 
 you to confess or deny, as accords." 
 
 " Come, come, Mr. Saddletree," said his wife, " we'll hae 
 
 nae confessions and condescendences here, let them deal in 
 
 thae sort o' wares that are paid for them ; they suit the like 
 
 o' us as ill as a demi-pique saddle would set a draught ox." 
 
 "Aha!" said Mr, Butler, " Optat ephippia bos piger, 
 
43 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 nothing new under the snn. But it was a fair hit of Mrs. 
 Saddletree, however." 
 
 "And it wad far better become ye^ Mr, Saddletree," con- 
 tinued his helpmate, "since ye say ye hae skeel o' the law, to 
 try if ye can do onything for Effie Deans, puir thing, that's 
 lying up in the tolbooth yonder, cauld, and hungry, and com- 
 fortless. A servant lass of ours, Mr. Butler, and as innocent 
 a lass, to my thinking, and as usefu' in the shop. When Mr. 
 Saddletree gangs out — and ye're aware he's seldom at hame 
 when there's ony o' the plea-houses open — puir Effie used to 
 help me to tumble the bundles o' barkened leather up and 
 down, and range out the gudes, and suit a'body's humors. 
 And troth, she could aye please the customers wi' her answers. 
 for she was aye civil, and a bonnier lass wasna in Auld Reekie. 
 And when folk were hasty and unreasonable, she could serve 
 them better than me, that am no sae young as I hae been, Mr. 
 Butler, and a wee bit short in the temper into the bargain ; 
 for when there's ower mony folks crying on me at anes, and 
 nane but ae tongue to answer them, folk maun speak hastily, 
 or they'll ne'er get through their wark. Sae I miss Effie 
 daily." 
 
 " De die in diem," added Saddletree. 
 
 "I think," said Butler, after a good deal of hesitation, "\ 
 have seen the girl in the shop, a modest-looking, fair-haired 
 girl?" 
 
 " Ay, ay, that's just puir Effie," said her mistress. " How 
 she was abandoned to hersell, or whether she was sackless o' 
 the sinf u' deed, G-od in Heaven knows ; but if she's been guilty, 
 she's been sair tempted, and I wad amaist take my Bible aith 
 she hasna been hersell at the time." 
 
 Butler had by this time become much agitated ; he fid- 
 geted up and down the shop, and showed the greatest agitation 
 that a person of such strict decorum could be supposed to give 
 way to. " Was not this girl," he said, '' the daughter of David 
 Deans, that had the parks at St. Leonard's taken ? and has 
 she not a sister ? " 
 
 " In troth has she — puir Jeanie Deans, ten years aulder 
 than hersell ; she was here greeting a wee while syne about 
 her tittie. And what could I say to her, but that she behoved 
 to come and speak to Mr. Saddletree when he was at hame ? 
 It wasna that I thought Mr. Saddletree could do her or ony 
 other body muckle gude or ill, but it wad aye serve to keep 
 the puir thing's heart up for a wee while ; and let sorrow 
 come when sorrow maun." 
 
 "Ye're mistaen, though, gudewife," said Saddletree, scorn- 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 48 
 
 fully, " for I could hae gien her great satisfaction ; I could 
 hae proved to her that her sister was indicted upon the stat- 
 ute 1690, chap. 1 [21] — for the mair ready prevention of child- 
 murder, for concealing her pregnancy, and giving no account 
 of the child which she had borne." 
 
 "■ I hope," said Butler — " I trust in a gracious God, that 
 she can clear herself." 
 
 "And sae do I, Mr. Butler," replied Mrs. Saddletree. 
 " I am sure 1 wad hae answered for her as my ain daughter ; 
 but, wae's my heart, I had been tender a' the simmer, and 
 scarce ower the door o' my room for twal weeks. And as for 
 Mr. Saddletree, he might be in a lying-in hospital, and ne'er 
 find out what the women cam there for. Sae I could see 
 little or naetliing o' her, or I wad hae had the trutli o' her 
 situation out o' her, I'se warrant ye. But we a' think her 
 sister maun be able to speak something to clear her." 
 
 "The haill Parliament House," said Saddletree, "was 
 speaking o' naething else, till this job o' Porteous's put it 
 out o' head. It's a beautiful point of presumptive murder, 
 and there's been nane like it in the Justiciar Court since the 
 case of Luckie Smith, the howdie, that suffered in the year 
 1679." 
 
 "But what's the matter wi' you, Mr. Butler?" said the 
 good woman ; "ye are looking as white as a sheet ; will ye 
 take a dram ? " 
 
 " By no means," said Butler, compelling himself to speak. 
 "I walked in from Dumfries yesterday, and this is a warm 
 day." 
 
 " Sit down," said Mrs. Saddletree, laying hands on him 
 kindly, " and rest ye ; ye'll kill yoursell, man, at that rate. 
 And are we to wish you joy o' getting the scule, Mr. Butler ? " 
 
 " Yes — no — I do not know," answered the young man, 
 vaguely. But Mrs. Saddletree kept him to the point, partly 
 out of real interest, partly from curiosity. 
 
 "' Ye dinna ken whether ye are to get the free scule o' 
 Dumfries or no, after hinging on and teaching it a' the sim- 
 mer ?" 
 
 " No, Mrs. Saddletree, I am not to have it," replied But- 
 ler, more collectedly. "The Laird of Black-at-the-Bane had 
 a natural son bred to the kirk, that the presbytery could not 
 be prevailed upon to license ; aud so " 
 
 " Ay, ye need say nae mair about it ; if there was a laird 
 that had a puir kinsman or a bastard that it wad suit, there's 
 eneugh said. And ye're e'en come back to Liberton to wait 
 for dead men's shoon ? and, for as frail as Mr. Whackbairu 
 
44 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 is, he may live as lang as you, that are his assistant and suc- 
 cessor." 
 
 " Very like," replied Butler, with a sigh ; " I do not know 
 if I should wish it otherwise." 
 
 " Nae doubt it's a very vexing thing," continued the good 
 lady, " to be in that dependent station ; and you that hae right 
 and title to sae muckle better, I wonder how ye bear these 
 crosses." 
 
 "' Quos diligit castigat," answered Butler ; "even the pa- 
 gan Seneca could see an advantage in affliction. The heathens 
 had their philosophy and the Jews their revelation, Mrs. Sad- 
 dletree, and they endured their distresses in their day. Chris- 
 tians have a better dispensation than either, but doubtless " 
 
 He stopped and sighed. 
 
 "I ken what ye mean," said Mrs. Saddletree, looking to- 
 ward her husband ; " there's whiles we lose patience in spite 
 of baith book and Bible. But ye are no gaun awa', and look- 
 ing sae poorly ; ye'll stay and take some kail wi' us ? " 
 
 Mr. Saddletree laid aside Balfour's Practiques (his favor- 
 ite study, and much good may it do him), to join in his wife's 
 hospitable importunity. But the teacher declined all entreaty, 
 and took liis leave upon the spot. 
 
 " There's something in a' this," said Mrs. Saddletree, look- 
 ing after him as he walked up the street. " I wonder what 
 makes Mr. Butler sae distressed about Effie's misfortune ; 
 there was nae acquaintance at ween them that ever I saw or 
 heard of ; but they were neighbors when David Deans was on 
 the Laird o' Dumbiedikes' land. Mr. Butler wad ken her 
 father, or some o' her folk. Get up, Mr. Saddletree ; ye have 
 set yoursell down on the very brecham that wants stitching ; 
 and here's little Willie, the prentice. Ye little rinthereout 
 deil that ye are, what takes you raking through the gutters to 
 see folk hangit ? How wad ye like when it comes to be your 
 ain chance, as I winna insure ye, if ye dinna mend your man- 
 ners ? And what are ye maundering and greeting for, as if 
 a word were breaking your banes ? Gang in bye, and be a 
 better bairn another time, and tell Peggy to gie ye a bicker o' 
 broth, for ye'll be as gleg as a gled, I'se warrant ye. It's a 
 fatherless bairn, Mr. Saddletree, and motherless, whilk in some 
 cases may be waur, and ane would take care o' him if they 
 could; it's a Christian duty." 
 
 "Very true, gudewife," said Saddletree, in reply, " we are 
 m loco parentis to him during his years of pupillarity, and I 
 hae had thoughts of applying to the court for a commission as 
 factor loco tuioris, seeing there is nae tutor nominate, and the 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 45 
 
 tutor-at-law declines to act ; but only I fear the expense of 
 the procedure wad not be in rem versmn, for I am not aware 
 if Willie has ony effects whereof to assume the administra- 
 tion^ 
 
 H^cohcluded this sentence with a self-important cough, 
 as one who has laid down the law in an indisputable manner. 
 
 ''Efl'eclsl" said Mrs. Saddletree; ''what effects has the 
 p(uir wean ? He was in rags when his mother died ; and the 
 blue polonie that Effie made for him out of an auld mantle of 
 my ain was the first decent dress the bairn ever had on. 
 Puir Effie ! can ye tell me now really, wi' a' your law, will her 
 life be in danger, Mr. Saddletree, when they arena able to 
 prove that ever there was a bairn ava ? " 
 
 "Whoy," said Mr. Saddletree, delighted at having for 
 once in his life seen his wife's attention arrested by a topic of 
 legal discussion — " whoy, there are two sorts of tmirdrum, or 
 murdragium, or what you populariter ei vulgariter call mur- 
 ther. I mean there are many sorts ; for there's your miir- 
 thrimt per vigilias et insidias and your murtlirum under 
 trust." 
 
 "I am sure," replied his moiety, "that murther by trust 
 is the way that the gentry murther us merchants, and whiles 
 make us shut the booth up ; but that has naething to do wi' 
 Effie's misfortune." 
 
 "The case of Effie — orEuphemia — Deans," resumed Sad- 
 dletree, "is one of those cases of murder presumptive, that 
 is, a murder of the law's inferring or construction, being de- 
 rived from certain indicia or grounds of suspicion." 
 
 " So that," said the good woman, " unless puir Effie has 
 communicated her situation, she'll be hanged by the neck, if 
 the bairn was still-born, or if it be alive at this moment ? " 
 
 "Assuredly." said Saddletree, "it being a statute made 
 by our sovereign Lord and Lady to prevent the horrid delict 
 of bringing forth children in secret. The crime is rather a 
 favorite of the law, this species of murther being one of its 
 ain creation." * 
 
 "' Then, if the law makes murders," said Mrs. Saddletree, 
 " the law should be hanged for them ; or if they wad hang a 
 lawyer instead, the country wad find nae faut." 
 
 A summons to their frugal dinner interrupted the further 
 progress of the conversation, which was otherwise like to take 
 a turn much less favorable to the science of jurisprudence and 
 its professors than Mr. Bartoline Saddletree, the fond admirer 
 of both, had at its opening anticipated. 
 
 ♦ See Law relating to Child- Murder. Note 7. 
 
CHAPTER YI 
 
 But up then raise all Edinburgh, 
 They all rose up by thousands three. 
 
 Johnie Armstrong's Goodnight. 
 
 BuTLEE, on his departure from the sign of the Golden Nng, 
 went in quest of a friend of his connected with the law, of 
 whom he wished to make particular inquiries concerning the 
 circumstances in which the unfortunate young woman men- 
 tioned in the last chapter was placed, having, as the reader 
 has probably already conjectured, reasons much deeper than 
 those dictated by mere humanity for interesting himself in 
 her fate. He found the person he sought absent from home, 
 and was equally unfortunate in one or two other calls which 
 he made upon acquaintances whom he hoped to interest in her 
 story. But everybody was, for the moment, stark mad on 
 the subject of Porteous, and engaged busily in attacking or 
 defending the measures of government in reprieving him ; 
 and the ardor of dispute had excited such uni>rersal thirst that 
 half the young lawyers and writers, together with their very 
 clerks, the class whom Butler was looking after, had adjourned 
 the debate to some favorite tavern. It was computed by an 
 experienced arithmetician that there was as much twopenny 
 ale consumed on the discussion as would have floated a first- 
 rate man-of-war. 
 
 Butler wandered about until it was dusk, resolving to take 
 that opportunity of visiting the unfortunate young woman, 
 when his doing so might be least observed ; for he had his 
 own reasons for avoiding the remarks of Mrs. Saddletree, 
 whose shop-door opened at no great distance from that of the 
 jail, though on the opposite or south side of the street, and a 
 little higher up. He passed, therefore, through the narrow 
 and partly covered passage leading from the north-west end 
 of the Parliament Square. 
 
 He stood now before the Gothic entrance of the ancient 
 prison, which, as is well known to all men, rears its ancient 
 front in the very middle of the High Street, forming, as it 
 were, the termination to a huge pile of buildings called the 
 Luckenbooths, which, for some inconceivable reason, our an- 
 
 46 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 47 
 
 cestors had jammed into the midst of the principal street of 
 the town, leaving for passage a narrow street on the north, 
 and on the south, into which the prison opens, a narrow 
 crooked lane, winding betwixt the high and sombre walls of 
 the tolbooth and the adjacent houses on the one side, and the 
 buttresses and projections of the old Cathedral upon the other. 
 To give some gayety to this sombre passage, well known by 
 the name of the Krames, a number of little booths or shops, 
 after the fashion of cobblers' stalls, are plastered, as it were, 
 against the Gothic projections and abutments, so that it 
 seemed as if the traders had occupied with nests, bearing the 
 same proportion to the building, every buttress and coign of 
 vantage, as the martlet did in Macbeth's castle. Of later years 
 these booths have degenerated into mere toy-shops, where the 
 little loiterers chiefly interested in such wares are tempted to 
 linger, enchanted by the rich display of hobby-horses, babies, 
 and Dutch toys, arranged in artful and gay confusion ; yet 
 half-scared by the cross looks of the withered pantaloon, or 
 spectacled old lady, by whom these tempting stores are watched 
 and superintended. But in the times we write of the hosiers, 
 the glovers, the hatters, the mercers, the milliners, and all who 
 dealt in the miscellaneous wares now termed haberdashers' 
 goods, were to be found in this narrow alley. 
 
 To return from our digression. Butler found the outer 
 turnkey, a tall, thin old man, with long silver hair, in the 
 act of locking the outward door of the jail. He addressed 
 nimself to this person, and asked admittance to EflEie Deans, 
 confined upon accusation of child-murder. The turnkey 
 looked at him earnestly, and, civilly touching his hat out of 
 respect to Butler's black coat and clerical ai^pearance, replied, 
 " It was impossible any one could be admitted at present." 
 
 " You shut wp earlier than usual, probably on account of 
 Captain Porteous's affair ? " said Butler. 
 
 The turnkey, with the true mystery of a person in office, 
 gave two grave nods, and withdrawing from the wards a pon- 
 derous key of about two feet in length, he proceeded to shut 
 a strong plate of steel which folded down above the keyhole, 
 and was secured by a steel spring and catch. Butler stood 
 still instinctively while the door was made fast, and tlien look- 
 ing at his watch, Avalked briskly up the street, muttering to 
 himself almost unconsciously — 
 
 Porta adversa, ingens, solidoque adamante columnae ; 
 Vis ut nulla virum, non ipsi exscindere ferro 
 Coelicolae valeant. Stat f errea turris ad auras, etc.* 
 • See Translation. Note 8. 
 
48 VAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 Having wasted half an hour more in a second fruitless at- 
 tempt to find his legal friend and adviser, he thought it time to 
 leave the city and return to his place of residence in a small 
 village about two miles and a half to the southward of Edin- 
 burgh. The metropolis was at this time surrounded by a 
 high wall, with battlements and flanking projections at some 
 intervals, and the access was through gates, called in the 
 Scottish language "ports," which were regularly shut at 
 night. A small fee to the keepers would indeed procure 
 egress and ingress at any time, through a wicket left for that 
 purpose in the large gate, but it was of some importance to a 
 man so poor as Butler to avoid even this slight pecuniary 
 mulct ; and fearing the hour of shutting the gates might be 
 near, lie made for that to which he found himself nearest, 
 although by doing so he somewhat lengthened his walk 
 homewards. Bristo Port was that by which his direct road 
 lay, but the West Port, which leads out of the Grassmarket, 
 was the nearest of the city gates to the place where he found 
 himself, and to that, therefore, he directed his course. 
 
 He reached the port in ample time to pass the circuit of 
 the walls, and enter a suburb called Portsburgh, chiefly in- 
 habited by the lower order of citizens and mechanics. Here 
 he was unexpectedly interrupted. He had not gone far from 
 the gate before he heard the sound of a drum, and, to his 
 great surprise, met a number of persons, sufficient to occupy 
 the whole front of the street, and form a considerable mass 
 behind, moving with great speed towards the gate he had just 
 come from, and having in front of them a drum beating to 
 arms. While be considered how he should escape a party 
 assembled, as it might be presumed, for no lawful j)urpose, 
 they came full on him and stopped him. 
 
 '' Are you a clergyman ? " one questioned him. 
 
 Butler replied that "he was in orders, but was not a 
 placed minister." 
 
 " It's Mr. Butler from Liberton,"said a voice from behind; 
 '' he'll discharge the duty as weel as ony man." 
 
 " You must turn back with us, sir," said the first speaker, 
 in a tone civil but peremptory. 
 
 " For what purpose, gentlemen ?" said Mr. Butler. "I 
 live at some distance from town ; the roads are unsafe by 
 night ; you will do me a serious injury by stopping me." 
 
 "You shall be sent safely home, no man shall touch a hair 
 of your head ; but you must and shall come along with us." 
 
 "But to what purpose or end, gentlemen ?" said Butler. 
 **I hope you will be so civil as to explain that to me ?" 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 49 
 
 ''Yon shall know that in good time. Come along, for 
 come you must, by force or fair means ; and I warn you to 
 look neither to the right hand nor the left, and to take no 
 notice of any man's face, but consider all that is passing be- 
 fore you as a dream." 
 
 "I would it were a dream I could awaken from," said 
 Butler to himself ; but having no means to oppose the violence 
 with which he was threatened, he was compelled to turn round 
 and march in front of the rioters, two men partly supporting 
 and partly holding him. During this parley the insurgents 
 had made themselves masters of the West Port, rushing upon 
 the waiters (so the people were called who had the charge of 
 the gates), and possessing themselves of the keys. They 
 bolted and barred the folding doors, and commanded the per- 
 son whose duty it usually was to secure the wicket, of which 
 they did not understand the fastenings. The man, terrified 
 at an incident so totally unexpected, was unable to perform 
 his usual office, and gave the matter up, after several attempts. 
 The rioters, who seemed to have come prepared for every 
 emergency, called for torches, by the light of which they 
 nailed up the wicket with long nails, which, it appeared prob- 
 able, they had provided on purpose. 
 
 While this was going on, Butler could not, even if he had 
 been willing, avoid making remarks on the individuals who 
 seemed to lead this singular mob. The torch-light, while it 
 fell on their forms and left him in the shade, gave him an 
 opportunity to do so without their observing him. Several of 
 those who appeared most active were dressed in sailors' jackets, 
 trowsers, and sea-caps ; others in large loose-bodied greatcoats, 
 and slouched hats ; and there were several who, judging from 
 their dress, should have been called women, Avhose rough deep 
 voices, uncommon size, and masculine deportment and mode 
 of walking, forbade them being so interpreted. They moved 
 as if by some well-concerted plan of arrangement. They had 
 signals by which they knew, and nicknames by which they 
 distinguished, each other. Butler remarked that the name of 
 Wildfire was used among them, to which one stout amazon 
 seemed to reply. 
 
 The rioters left a small party to observe the West Port, 
 and directed the waiters, as they valued their lives, to remain 
 within their lodge, and make no attempt for that night to re- 
 possess themselves of the gate. They then moved with rapid- 
 ity along the low street called the Cowgate, the mob of the 
 city everywhere rising at the sound of their drum and join 
 ing them. When the multitude arrived at the Cowgate Portj 
 
Se WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 they secured it with as little opposition as the former, made 
 it fast, and left a small party to observe it. It was after- 
 wards remarked as a striking instance of prudence and pre- 
 caution, singularly combined with audacity, that the parties 
 left to guard those gates did not remain stationary on their 
 posts, but flitted to and fro, keeping so near the gates as to 
 see that no efforts were made to open them, yet not remain- 
 ing so long as to have their persons closely observed. The 
 mob, at first only about one hundred strong, now amounted 
 to thousands, and were increasing every moment. They 
 divided themselves so as to ascend with more speed the various 
 narrow lanes which lead up from the Cowgate to the High 
 Street ; and still beating to arms as they went, and calling on 
 all true Scotsmen to join them, they now filled the principal 
 street of the city. 
 
 The NetherlDow Port might be called the Temple Bar of 
 Edinburgh, as, intersecting the High Street at its termina- 
 tion, it divided Edinburgh, properly so called, from the suburb 
 named the Canongate, as Temple Bar separates London from 
 Westminster. It was of the utmost importance to the rioters 
 to possess themselves of this pass, because there was quartered 
 in the Canongate at that time a regiment of infantry, com- 
 manded by Colonel Moyle, which might have occupied the 
 city by advancing through this gate, and would possess the 
 power of totally defeating their purpose. The leaders there- 
 fore hastened to the Netherbow Port, which they secured in 
 the same manner, and with as little trouble, as the other gates, 
 leaving a party to watch it, strong in proportion to the im- 
 portance of the post. 
 
 The next object of these hardy insurgents was at once to 
 disarm the City Guard and to procure arms for themselves ; 
 for scarce any weapons but staves and bludgeons had been yet 
 seen among them. The guard-house was a long, low, ugly 
 building (removed in 1787), which to a fanciful imagination 
 might have suggested the idea of a long black snail crawling 
 up the middle of the Higli Street, and deforming its beautiful 
 esplanade. This formidable insurrection had been so unex- 
 pected that there were no more than the ordinary sergeant's 
 guard of the city corps upon duty ; even these were without 
 any supply of powder and ball ; and sensible enough what had 
 raised the storm, and which way it was rolling, could hardly 
 be supposed very desirous to expose themselves by a valiant 
 defence to the animosity of so numerous and desperate a mob, 
 to whom they were on the present occasion much more than 
 usually obnoxiouB. 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 51 
 
 There was a sentinel upon gnard, who, that one town 
 guard soldier might do his duty on that eventful evening, 
 presented his piece, and desire'd the foremost of the rioters to 
 stand off. The young amazon, whom Butler had observed 
 particularly active, sprung upon the soldier, seized his musket, 
 and after a struggle succeeded in wrenching it from him, and 
 tiirowing him down on the causeway. One or two soldiers, 
 who endeavored to turn out to the support of their sentinel, 
 were in the same manner seized and disarmed, and the mob 
 without difficulty possessed themselves of the guard-house, 
 disarming and turning out-of-doors the rest of the men on 
 duty. It was remarked that, notwithstanding the city soldiers 
 had been the instruments of the slaughter which this riot was 
 designed to revenge, no ill-usage or even insult was offered" 
 to them. It seemed as if the vengeance of the people disdained 
 to stoop at any head meaner than that which they considered 
 as the source and origin of their injuries. 
 
 On possessing themselves of the guard, the first act of the 
 multitude was to destroy the drums, by which they supposed 
 an alarm might be conveyed to the garrison in the Castle ; for 
 the same reason they now silenced their own, which was 
 beaten by a young fellow, son to the drummer of Portsburgh, 
 whom they had forced upon that service. Their next busi- 
 ness was to distribute among the boldest of the rioters the 
 guns, bayonets, partizans, halberds, and battle or Lochaber 
 axes. Until this period the principal rioters had preserved 
 silence on the ultimate object of their rising, as being tliat 
 which all knew, but none expressed. Now, however, having 
 accomplished all the preliminary parts of their design, they 
 raised a tremendous shout of '• Porteous ! Porteous ! To 
 the tolbooth ! To the tolbooth ! " 
 
 Tliey proceeded with the same prudence when the object 
 seemed to be nearly in their grasp as they hiid done hitherto 
 wlien success was more dubious. A strong party of tlie riot- 
 ers, drawn up in front of the Luckenbooths, and facing down 
 the street, prevented all access from the eastward, and the 
 west end of the defile formed by the Luckenbooths was secured 
 in the same manner ; so that the tolbooth was completely sur- 
 rounded, and those who undertook the task of breaking it 
 open effectually secured against the risk of interruption. 
 
 The magistrates, in the meanwhile, had taken the alarm, 
 and assembled in a tavern, with the purpose of raising some 
 strength to subdue the rioters. The deacons, or presidents of 
 the trades, were applied to, but declared there was little 
 chance of their authority being respected by the craftsmen. 
 
52 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 where it was the object to save a man so obnoxious. Mr. 
 Lindsay, member of parliament for the city, volunteered the 
 perilous task of carrying a verbal message from the Lord 
 Provost to Colonel Moyle, the commander of the regiment 
 lying in the Canongate, requesting him to force the Nether- 
 bow Port, and enter the city to put down the tumult. But 
 Mr. Lindsay declined to charge himself with any written 
 order, which, if found on his person by an enraged mob, 
 might have cost him his life ; and the issue of the application 
 was, that Colonel Moyle, having no written requisition from 
 the civil authorities, and having the fate of Porteous before 
 his eyes as an example of the severe construction put by a 
 jury on the proceedings of military men acting on their own 
 responsibility, declined to encounter the risk to which the 
 Provost's verbal communication invited him. 
 
 More than one messenger was despatched by different ways 
 to the Castle, to require the commanding officer to march 
 down his troops, to fire a few cannon-shot, or even to throw 
 a shell among the mob, for the purpose of clearing the streets. 
 But so strict and watchful were the various patrols whom the 
 rioters had established in different parts of the street, that 
 none of the emissaries of the magistrates could reach the gate 
 of the Castle. They were, however, turned back without 
 either injury or insult, and with nothing more of menate than 
 was necessary to deter them from again attempting to accom- 
 plish their errand. 
 
 The same vigilance was used to prevent everybody of the 
 higher, and those which, in this case, might be deemed the 
 more suspicious, orders of society from appearing in the street, 
 and observing the movements, or distinguishing the persons, 
 of the rioters. Every person in the garb of a gentleman was 
 stopped by small parties of two or three of the mob, who 
 partly exhorted, partly required of them, that they should 
 return to the place from whence they came. Many a qua- 
 drille table was spoiled that memorable evening ; for the sedan 
 chairs of ladies, even of the highest rank, were interrupted 
 in their passage from one point to another, in despite of the 
 laced footmen and blazing flambeaux. This was uniformly 
 done with a deference and attention to the feelings of the 
 terrified females which could hardly have been expected from 
 the videttes of a mob so desperate. Those who stopped the 
 chair usually made the excuse that there was much disturb- 
 ance on the streets, and that it was absolutely necessary for 
 the lady's safety that the chair '^bonld turn back. They 
 offered themselves to escort the vehicles which they had thus 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 53 
 
 interrnpted in their progress, from the apprehension, prob- 
 ably, that some of those who had casually united themselves 
 to the riot might disgrace their systematic and determined 
 plan of vengeance, by those acts of general insult and license 
 which are common on similar occasions. 
 
 Persons are yet living who remember to have heard from 
 the mouths of ladies thus interrupted on their journey in the 
 manner we have described, that they were escorted to their 
 lodgings by the young men who stopped them, and even 
 handed out of their chairs, with a polite attention far beyond 
 what was consistent with their dress, which was apparently 
 that of journeymen mechanics.* It seemed as if the conspira- 
 tors, like those who assassinated the Cardinal Beatoun in for- 
 mer days, had entertained the opinion that the work about 
 which they went was a judgment of Heaven, which, though 
 unsanctioned by the usual authorities, ought to be proceeded 
 in with order and gravity. 
 
 While their outposts continued thus vigilant, and suffered 
 themselves neither from fear nor curiosity to neglect that 
 part of the duty assigned to them, and while the main guards 
 to the east and west secured them against interruption, a select 
 body of the rioters thundered at the door of the jail, and de- 
 manded instant admission. No one answered, for the outer 
 keeper had prudently made his escape with the keys at the 
 commencement of the riot, and was nowhere to be found. 
 The door was instantly assailed with sledge-hammers, iron 
 crows, andihe coulters of ploughs, ready provided for the pur- 
 pose, with which they prized, heaved, and battered for some 
 time with little effect ; for, being of double oak planks, 
 clinched, both end-long and athwart, with broad-headed 
 nails, the door was so hung and secured as to yield to no 
 means of forcing, without the expenditure of much time. 
 The rioters, however, appeared determined to gain admittance. 
 Gang after gang relieved each other at the exercise, for, of 
 course, only a few could work at a time ; but gang after gang 
 retired, exhausted with their violent exertions, without mak- 
 ing much progress in forcing the prison door. Butler had 
 been led up near to this the principal scene of action ; so near, 
 indeed, that he was almost deafened by the unceasing clang 
 of the heavy fore-hammers against the iron-bound portals of 
 the prison. He began to entertain hopes, as the task seemed 
 protracted, that the populace might give it over in despair, or 
 that some rescue might arrive to disperse them. There was « 
 moment at which the latter s-eemed probable. 
 
 ♦ See Note ». 
 
64 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 The magistrates, having assembled their officers and some 
 of the citizens who were willing to hazard themselves for the 
 public tranquillity, now sallied forth from the tavern where 
 they held their sitting, and approached the point of danger. 
 Their officers went before them with links and torches, with 
 a herald to read the Kiot Act, if necessary. They easily drove 
 before them the outposts and videttes of the rioters ; but when 
 they approached the line of guard whicli the mob, or rather, 
 we should say, the conspirators, had drawn across the street 
 in the front of the Luckenbooths, they were received with an 
 unintermitted volley of stones, and, on their nearer approach, 
 the pike-;, bayonets, and Lochaber axes of whicli the populace 
 had possessed themselves were presented against them. One 
 of their ordinary officers, a strong resolute felloAV, went for- 
 ward, seized a rioter, and took from him a musket ; but, be- 
 ing unsupported, he was instantly thrown on his back in the 
 street, and disarmed in his turn. The officer was too happy 
 to be permitted to rise and run away without receiving any 
 further injury ; which afforded another remarkable instance 
 of the mode in which these men had united a sort of modera- 
 tion towards all others with the most inflexible inveteracy 
 against the object of their resentment. The magistrates, 
 after vain attempts to make themselves heard and obeyed, 
 possessing no means of enforcing their authority, were con- 
 strained to abandon the field to the rioters, and retreat in all 
 speed from the showers of missiles that whistled around their 
 ears. 
 
 The pasoi'.'o resistance of the tolbooth gate promised to do 
 more to baffle the purpose of the mob than the active inter- 
 ference of the magistrates. The heavy sledge-hammers con- 
 tinued to din against it without intermission, and with a noise 
 which, echoed from tlie lofty buildings around the spot, seemed 
 enough to have alarmed the garrison in the Castle. It was 
 circulated among the rioters that the troops v/ould march down 
 to disperse them, unless they could execute their purpose with- 
 out loss of time ; or that, even without quitting the fortress, ' 
 the garrison might obtain the same end by throwing a bomb 
 or two upon the street. 
 
 Urged by such motives for apprehension, they eagerly re- 
 lieved each other at tlie labor of assailing the tolbooth door ; 
 yet such Wiis its strength that it still defied their efforts. At 
 length a voice was heard to pronounce the words, " Try it with 
 fire." The rioters, with a unanimous shout, called for com- 
 bustibles, and as all their wishes seemed to be instantly supplied, 
 they were soon in nossession of two or three empty tar-barrels, 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 56 
 
 A hnge red glaring bonfire speedily arose close to the door of 
 the prison, sending up a tall column of smoke and flame against 
 its antique turrets and strongly grated windows, and illuminat- 
 ing the ferocious and wild gestures of the rioters who surround- 
 ed the place, as well as the pale and anxious groups of those 
 who, from windows in the vicinage, watched the progress of 
 this alarming scene. The mob fed the fire with whatever they 
 could find fit for the purpose. The flames roared and crackled 
 among the heaps of nourishment piled on the fire, and a terrible 
 shout soon announced that the door had kindled, and was in 
 the act of being destroyed. The fire was suffered to decay, 
 but long ere it was quite extinguished the most forward of 
 the rioters rushed, in their impntience, one after another, over 
 its yet smoldering remains. Thick showers of sparkles rose 
 hio-li in the air as man after man bounded over the glowing 
 embers and disturbed them in their passage. It was now ob- 
 vious to Butler and all others who were present that the 
 rioters would be instantly in possession of their victim, and 
 have it in their power to work their pleasure upon him, what- 
 ever that might be. * 
 
 * See The Old Tolbooth. Note 10. 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 
 The evil you teach us, we will execute ; and it shall go hard 
 but we will better the instruction. 
 
 Merchant of Venice. 
 
 The unhappy object of this remarkable disturbance had been 
 that day delivered from the apprehension of a public execu- 
 tion, and his joy was the greater, as he had some reason to 
 question whether government would have run the risk of un- 
 popularity by interfering in his favor, after he had been legally 
 convicted, by the verdict of a jury, of a crime so very obnox- 
 ious. Eelieved from this doubtful state of mind, his heart 
 was merry within him, and he thought, in the emphatic words 
 of Scripture on a similar occasion, that surely the bitterner,s 
 of death was past. Some of his friends, however, who had 
 watched the manner and behavior of the crowd when they 
 were made acquainted with the reprieve, were of a different 
 opinion. They augured, from the unusual sternness and silence 
 with which tliey bore their disappointment, that the populace 
 nourished some scheme of sudden and desperate vengeance ; 
 and they advised Porteous to lose no time in petitioning the 
 proper authorities that he might be conveyed to the Castle 
 under a sufficient guard, to remain there in security until his 
 ultimate fate should be determined. Habituated, however, 
 by his office to overawe the rabble of the city, Porteous could 
 not suspect them of an attemj^t so audacious as to storm a 
 strong and defensible prison ; and, despising the advice by 
 which he might have been saved, he spent the afternoon of 
 the eventful day in giving an entertainment to some friends 
 who visited him in jail, several of whom, by the indulgence 
 of the captain of the tolbooth, with whom he had an old inti- 
 macy, ai'ising from their official connection, were even per- 
 mitted to remain to supper with him, though contrary to the 
 rules of the jail. 
 
 It was, therefore, in the hour of unalloyed mirth, when 
 this unfortunate wretch was "'full of bread," hot with wine, 
 
 56 
 
IHE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 57 
 
 and high in mistimed and ill-grounded confidence, and, alas ! 
 with ail his sins full blown, when the first distant shouts of 
 the rioters mingled with the song of merriment and intem- 
 perance. The hurried call of the jailer to the guests, requir- 
 ing them instantly to depart, and his yet more hasty ioti- 
 mation that a dreadful and determined mob had possessed 
 themselves of the city gates and guard-house, were the first 
 explanation of these fearful clamors. 
 
 Porteous might, however, have eluded the fury from which 
 the force of authority could not protect him, had he thought 
 of slipping on some disguise and leaving the prison along Avith 
 his guests. It is probable that the jailer might have con- 
 nived at his escape, or even that, in the hurry of this alarm- 
 ing contingency, he might not have observed it. But Por- 
 teous and his friends alike wanted presence of mind to suggest 
 or execute such a plan of escape. The latter hastily fled from 
 a place where their own safety seemed compromised, and the 
 former, in a state resembling stupefaction, awaited in his 
 apartment the terminatioii of the enterprise of the rioters. 
 The cessation of the clang of the instruments with which they 
 had at first attempted to force the door gave him momentary 
 relief. The flattering hopes that the military had marched 
 into the city, either from the Castle or from the suburbs, and 
 that the rioters were intimidated and dispersing, were soon 
 destroyed by the broad and glaring light of the flames, which, 
 illuminating through the grated window every corner of his 
 apartment, plainly showed that the mob, determined on their 
 fatal purpose, had adopted a means of forcing entrance 
 equally desperate and certain. 
 
 The sudden glare of light suggested to the stupefied and 
 astonished object of popular hatred the possibility of conceal- 
 ment or escape. To rush to the chimney, to ascend it at the 
 risk of suffocation, were the only means which seem to have 
 occurred to him ; but his progress was speedily stopped by 
 one of those iron gratings which are, for the sake of security, 
 usually placed across the vents of buildings designed for im- 
 prisonment. The bars, however, which impeded his further 
 progress served to support him in the situation which he had 
 gained, and he seized them with the tenacious grasp of one who 
 esteemed himself clinging to his last hope of existence. The 
 lurid light which had filled the apartment lowered and died 
 away ; the sound of shouts was heard within the walls, and 
 on the narrow and winding stair, which, cased within one of 
 the turrets, gave access to the upper apartments of the prison. 
 The huzza of the rioters was answered by a shout wild and des- 
 
58 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 perate as their own, the cry, namely, of the imprisoned fel- 
 ons, who, expecting to be liberated in the general confusion, 
 welcomed the mob as their deliverers. By some of these the 
 apartment of Porteous was pointed out to his enemies. The 
 obstacle of the lock and bolts was soon overcome, and from 
 his hiding-place the unfortunate man heard his enemies search 
 every corner of the apartment, with oaths and maledictions, 
 which would but shock the reader if we recorded them, but 
 which served to prove, could it have admitted of doubt, the 
 settled purpose of soul with which tliey sought his destruc- 
 tion. 
 
 A place of concealment so obvious to suspicion and scru- 
 tiny as that which Porteous had chosen could not long screen 
 him from detection. He was dragged from his lurking-place, 
 with a violence which seemed to argue an intention to put him 
 to death on the spot. More than one weapon was directed 
 towards him, vv^hen one of the rioters, the same whose female 
 disguise had been particularly noticed by Butler, interfered in 
 an authoritative tone. "Are ye mad ?" he said, '•' or would 
 ye execute an act of justice as if it were a crime and a cru- 
 elty ? This sacrifice will lose half its savor if we do not offer 
 it at the very horns of the altar. We will have him die 
 where a murderer should die, on the common gibbet. We 
 will have him die where he spilled the blood of so many in- 
 nocents ! " 
 
 A loud shout of applause followed the jjroposal, and the 
 cry, '' To the gallows with the murderer ! To the Grass- 
 market with him ! " echoed on all hands. 
 
 " Let no man hurt him,^' continued the speaker ; " let him 
 make his peace with God, if he can ; we will not kill both his 
 soul and body.'" 
 
 " What time did he give better folk for preparing their ac- 
 count ? " answered several voices. " Let us mete to him with 
 the same measure he measured to them." 
 
 But the opinion of the spokesman better suited the temper 
 of those he addressed, a temper rather stubborn than impetu- 
 ous, sedate though ferocious, and desirous of coloring their 
 cruel and revengeful action with a show of justice and moder- 
 ation. 
 
 For an instant this man quitted the prisoner, whom he 
 consigned to a selected guard, with instructions to permit him 
 to give his money and property to whomsoever he pleased. A 
 person confined in the jail for debt received this last deposit from 
 the trembling hand of the victim, who was at the same time 
 permitted to make some other brief arrangements to meet his 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 60 
 
 approaching fate. The felons, and all others who wished to 
 leave the jail, were now at full liberty to do so ; not that their 
 liberation made any part of the settled purpose of the rioters, 
 but it followed as almost a necessary consequence of forcing 
 the jail doors. With wild cries of jubilee they joined the mob, 
 or disappeared among the narrow lanes to seek out the hidden 
 receptacles of vice and infamy Avhere they were accustomed to 
 lurk and conceal themselves from justice. 
 
 Two persons, a man about fifty years old and a girl about 
 eighteen, were all who continued within the fatal walls, ex- 
 cepting two or three debtors, who probably saw no advantage 
 in attempting tiieir escape. The persons we have mentioned 
 remained in the strong-room of the prison, now deserted by all 
 others. One of their late companions in misfortune called out 
 to the man to make his escape, in the tone of an acquaintance. 
 " Rin for it, Ratcliffe ; the road's clear.'' 
 
 " It may be sae, Willie," answered Eatcliffe, composedly, 
 " but I have taen a fancy to leave aff trade, and set up for an 
 honest man." 
 
 '*' Stay there and be hanged, then, for a donnard anld 
 deevil ! " said the other, and ran down the prison stair. 
 
 The person in female attire whom we have distinguished 
 as one of the most active rioters was about the same time at 
 the ear of the young woman. "Flee, Eflie, flee!" was all 
 he had time to whisper. She turned towards him an eye of 
 mingled fear, affection, and upbraiding, all contending with 
 a sort of stupefied surprise. He again repeated, '* Flee, EflSe, 
 flee, for the sake of all that's good and dear to you ! " Again 
 she gazed on him, but was unable to answer. A loud noise 
 was now heard, and the name of Madge Wildfire was repeatedly 
 called from the bottom of the staircase. 
 
 '*' I am coming — I am coming," said the person who an- 
 swered to that appellative ; and then reiterating hastily, ''For 
 God's sake — for your own sake — for my sake, flee, or they'll 
 take your life ! " he left the strong-room. 
 
 The girl gazed after him for a moment, and then faintly 
 muttering, " Better tyne life, since tint is gude fame," she 
 Bunk her head upon her hand, and remained seemingly un- 
 conscious as a statue of the noise and tumult which passed 
 around her. 
 
 That tumult was now transferred from the inside to the 
 outside of the tolbooth. The mob had brought their destined 
 victim forth, and were about to conduct him to the common 
 place of execution, which they had fixed as the scene of his 
 death. The leader whom they distinguished by the name of 
 
60 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 Madge Wildfire had been summoned to assist at the proces- 
 sion by the impatient shouts of his confederates. 
 
 " I will insure you five hundred pounds/' said the un- 
 happy man, grasping Wildfire's hand — "five hundred pounds 
 for to save my life." 
 
 The other answered in the same undertone, and return- 
 ing his grasp with one equally convulsive, " Five hundred- 
 weight of coined gold should not save you. Remember 
 Wilson ! " 
 
 A deep pause of a minute ensued, when Wildfire added, 
 in a more composed tone, " Make your peace with Heaven. 
 Where is the clergyman ? " 
 
 Butler, who, in great terror and anxiety, had been de- 
 tained within a few yards of the tolbooth door, to wait the 
 event of the search after Porteous, was now brought forward 
 and commanded to walk by the prisoner's side, and to prej^are 
 him for immediate death. His answer was a supplication that 
 the rioters would consider what they did. "You are neither 
 Judges nor jury," said he. " You cannot have, by the laws 
 of God or man, power to take away the life of a human creat- 
 ure, however deserving he may be of death. If it is murder 
 even in a lawful magistrate to execute an offender otherwise 
 than in the place, time, and manner which the judges' sen- 
 tence prescribes, what must it be in you, who have no warrant 
 for interference but your own wills ? In the name of Him 
 who is all mercy, show mercy to this unhappy man, and do 
 not dip your hands in his blood, nor rush into the very crime 
 which you "are desirous of avenging ! " 
 
 " Cut your sermon short, you are not in your pulpit," an- 
 swered one of the rioters. 
 
 "If we hear more of y^ur clavers,"said another, "we are 
 like to hang you up beside him." 
 
 "Peace ! hush !" said Wildfire. "Do the good man no 
 harm ; he discharges his conscience, and I like him the bet- 
 ter." 
 
 He then addressed Butler. " Now, sir, we have patiently 
 heard you, and we Just wish you to understand, in the way of 
 an-swer, that you may as well argue to the ashler-work and 
 iron stanchels of the tolbooth as think to change our purpose. 
 Blood must have blood. We have sworn to each other by the 
 deepest oaths ever were pledged, that Porteus shall die the 
 death he deserves so richly ; therefore, speak no more to us, 
 but prepare him for death as well as the briefness of his change 
 will permit." 
 
 They had suffered the unfortunate Porteous to put on his 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 61 
 
 night-gown and slippers, as he had thrown oflE his coat and shoes 
 in order to facilitate his attempted escape up the chimney. In 
 this garb he was now mounted on the liands of two of the 
 rioters, clasped together, so as to form what is called in Scot- 
 land " The King's Cushion." Butler was placed close to his 
 side, and repeatedly urged to perform a duty always the most 
 painful which can be imposed on a clergyman deserving of 
 tiie name, and now rendered more so by the peculiar and hor- 
 rid circumstances of the criminal's case. Porteous at first 
 uttered some supplications for mercy, butAvhen he found that 
 there was no chance that these would be attended to, his mil- 
 itary education, and the natural stubbornness of his disposi- 
 tion, combined to supjDort his spirits. 
 
 " Are you prepared for this dreadful end ? '' said Butler, 
 in a faltering voice. " turn to Him in whose eyes time 
 and space have no existence, and to whom a few minutes are 
 as a lifetime, and a lifetime as a minute." 
 
 ''I believe I know what you would say," answered Porte- 
 ous, sullenly. " I was bred a soldier ; if they will murder 
 me without time, let my sins as well as my blood lie at their 
 door." 
 
 "• Who was it," said the stern voice of Wildfire, "that said 
 to Wilson at this very spot, when he could not pray, owing to 
 the galling agony of his fetters, that his pains would soon be 
 over ? I say to you, take your own tale home ; and if you 
 cannot profit by the good man's lessons, blame not them that 
 are still more merciful to you than you were to others." 
 
 The procession now moved forward with a slow and deter- 
 mined pace. It was enlightened by many blazing links and 
 torches ; for the actors of this work were so far from affecting 
 any secrecy on .the occasion that they seemed even to court 
 observation. Their principal leaders kept close to the person 
 of tiie prisoner, whose pallid yet stubborn features were seen 
 distinctly by the torch-light, as his person Avas raised consider- 
 ably above the concourse which thronged around him. Those 
 who bore swords, muskets, and battle-axes marched on eacii 
 side, as if forming a regular guard to the procession. The 
 windows, as they went along, were filled with the inhabitants, 
 whose slumbers had been broken by this unusual disturbance. 
 Some of the spectators muttered accents of encouragement , 
 but in general they were so much appalled by a sight so strange 
 and audacious, that they looked on with a sort of stupefied 
 sistonisliment. No one offered, by act or word, the slightest 
 interruption. 
 
 The rioters, on their part, continued to act with the same 
 
e2 WAVER LEY NOVELS 
 
 air of deHberate confidence and security which had marked 
 all their proceedings. When the object of their resentment 
 dropped one of his slippers, they stopped, sought for it, and 
 replaced it upon his foot witli great deliberation.* As they 
 descended the Bow towards the fatal spot where they designed 
 to complete their purpose, it was suggested that there should 
 be a rope kept in readiness. For this purpose the booth of a 
 man who dealt in cordage was forced open, a coil of rope 
 fit for their purpose was selected to serve as a halter, and the 
 dealer next morning found that a guinea had been left on his 
 counter in exchange ; so anxious were the perpetrators of this 
 daring action to show that they meditated not the slightest 
 wrong for infraction of law, excepting so far as Porteous was 
 himself concerned. 
 
 Leading, or carrying along with them, in this determined 
 and regular manner, the object of their vengeance, they at 
 length reached the place of common execution, the scene of 
 his crime, and destined spot of his sufferings. Several of the 
 rioters (if they should not rather be described as conspirators) 
 endeavored to remove the stone which filled up the socket in 
 which the end of the fatal tree was su7ik when it was erected 
 for its fatal purpose ; others sought for the means of con- 
 structing a temporary gibbet, the place in which the gallon's 
 itself was deposited being reported too secure to be forced, 
 without much loss of time. 
 
 Butler endeavored to avail himself of the delay afforded by 
 these circumstances to turn the people from their desperate 
 design. ''For Grod's sake," he exclaimed, '^ remember it is 
 the image of your Creator which you are about to deface in 
 the person of this unfortunate man ! Wretched as he is, and 
 wicked as lie may be, he has a shai^ in every promise of Scrip- 
 ture, and you cannot destroy him in impenitence without 
 blotting his name from the Book of Life. Do not destroy 
 soul and body ; give time for preparation." 
 
 " What time had they," returned a stern voice, " whom 
 he murdered on this very spot ? The laws both of God and 
 man call for his death." 
 
 ''But what, my friends," insisted Butler, with a generous 
 disregard to his own safety — " what hath constituted you his 
 judges ?" 
 
 "We are not his judges," replied the same person ; ''he 
 has been already judged and condemned by lawful authority. 
 We are those whom Heaven, and our righteous anger, have 
 
 * This litUe incident, characteristic of the extreme composure of this extraor- 
 dinary mob, was witnessed by a lady who, disturbed, like others, from her slum- 
 bers, had gone to the window. It w^s told to the Author by the lady's daughter. 
 
THE HE^^lRT of MIDLOTHIAN 68 
 
 stirred up to execute judgment, when a corrupt government 
 would have protected a murderer." 
 
 "\ am none/' said the unfortunate Porteous ; ''that 
 which you charge upon me fell out in self-defence, in the 
 lawful exercise of my duty." 
 
 "Away with him — away with him !" was the general cry. 
 ''Why do you trifle away time in making a gallows? that 
 dyester's pole is good enough for the homicide. 
 
 The unhappy man was forced to his fate with remorseless 
 rapidity. Butler, separated from him by the press, escaped 
 the last horrors of his struggles. Unnoticed by those who 
 had hitherto detained him as a prisoner, he fled from the fatal 
 spot, without much caring in what direction his course lay. 
 A loud shout proclaimed the stern delight with which the 
 agents of this deed regarded its completion. Butler then, at 
 the opening into the Ioav street called the Cowgate, cast back 
 a terrified glance, and by the red and dusky light of the torches 
 he could discern a figure wavering and struggling as it hung 
 suspended above the heads of the multitude, and could even 
 observe men striking at it with their Lochaber axes and parti- 
 zans. The sight was of a nature to double his horror and to 
 add wings to his flight. 
 
 The street down which the fugitive ran opens to one of 
 the eastern ports or gates of the city. Butler did net stop till 
 he reached it, but found it still shut. He waited nearly an 
 hour, walking up and down in inexpressible perturbation of 
 mind. At length he ventured to call out and rouse the atten- 
 tion of the terrified keepers of the gate, who now found them- 
 selves at liberty to resume their office without interruption. 
 Butler requested them to open the gate. They hesitated. He 
 told them his name and occupation. 
 
 "He is a preacher," said one ; "I have heard liim preach 
 in Haddo's Hole." 
 
 " A fine preaching has he been at the night," said another ; 
 '* but maybe least said is sunest mended." 
 
 Opening then the wicket of the main gate, the keepers 
 suffered Butler to depart, who hastened to carry his horror 
 and fear beyond the walls of Edinburgh. His first purpose 
 was instantly to take the road homeward ; but other fears 
 and cares, connected with the news he had learned in that re- 
 markable day, induced him to linger in the neighborhood of 
 Edinburgh until daybreak. More than one group of persons 
 passed him as he was whiling away the hours of darkness that 
 yet remained, whom, from the stifled tones of their discourse, 
 the unwonted hour when they travelled, and the hasty pac« 
 
64 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 at whici\ they walked, he conjectured to have been engaged in 
 
 the late fatal transaction. 
 
 Certain it was, that the sudden and total dispersion of 
 the rioter:, \7hen their vindictive purpose was accomplislied, 
 seemed not the least remarkable feature of this singular affair. 
 In geu" ral, whatever may be the impelling motive by which a 
 mob 13 at first raised, the attainment of their object has 
 usually been only found to lead the way to further excesses. 
 But not so in the present case. They seemed completely sati- 
 ated with the vengeance they had prosecuted with such stanch 
 and sagacious activity. When they were fully satisfied that 
 life had abandoned their victim, they dispersed in every di- 
 rection, throwing down the weapons which they had only as- 
 sumed to enable them to carry through their purpose. At 
 daybreak there remained not the least token of the events of 
 the night, excepting the corpse of Porteous, which still hung 
 suspended in the place where he had suffered, and the arms 
 of various kinds which the rioters had taken from the City 
 Guard-house, which were found scattered about the streets as 
 they had tlirown them from their hands, when the purpose for 
 which they had seized them was accomplished.* 
 
 The ordinary magistrates of the city resumed their power, 
 not without trembling at the late experience of the fragility 
 of its tenure. To march troops into the city, and commence 
 a severe inquiry into the transactions of the preceding night, 
 were the first marks of returning energy which they displayed. 
 But these events had been conducted on so secure and well- 
 calculated a plan of safety and secrecy, that there was little 
 or nothing learned to throw light upon the authors or prin- 
 cipal actors in a scheme so audacious. An express was de- 
 spatched to London with the tidings, where they excited great 
 indignation and surprise in the council of regency, and par- 
 ticularly in the bosom of Queen Caroline, who considered her 
 own authority as exposed to contempt by the success of this 
 singular conspiracy. Nothing was spoke of for some time save 
 the measure of vengeance which should be taken, not only on 
 the actors of this tragedy, so soon as they should be discovered, 
 but upon the magistrates who had suffered it to take place, 
 and upon the city which had been the scene where it was ex- 
 hibited. On this occasion, it is still recorded in popular tra- 
 dition that her Majesty, in the height of her displeasure, told 
 the celebrated John, Duke of Argyle, that, sooner than submit 
 to such an insult, she would make Scotland a hunting-field. 
 **In that case, Mr.dam," answered that high-spirited noble- 
 
 ^''SeaXte iiMuer of Captain Porteous. Note 11. 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 65 
 
 man, with a profound bow, " I will take leave of your Maj- 
 esty, and go down to my own country to get my hounds 
 ready/' 
 
 The import of the reply had more than met the ear ; and 
 as most of the Scottish nobility and gentry seemed actuated 
 by the same national spirit, the royal displeasure was neces- 
 sarily checked in mid- volley, and milder courses were recom- 
 mended and adopted, to some of which we may hereafter have 
 Dccasion to advert. 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 
 Arthur's Seat shall be my bed, 
 The sheets shall ne'er be press'd by mt 
 
 St. Anton's well shall be my drink, 
 Sin' my true-love's forsaken me. 
 
 Old Song. 
 
 If I were to choose a spot from wliicli the rising or setting sun 
 could be seen to the greatest possible advantage, it would be 
 that wild path winding around the foot of the high belt of 
 semicircular rocks called Salisbury Crags, and marking the 
 verge of the steep descent which slopes down into the glen on 
 the south-eastern side of the city of Edinburgh. The pros- 
 pect, in its general outline, commands a close-built, high-piled 
 city, stretching itself out beneath in a form which, to a ro- 
 mantic imagination, may be supposed to represent that of a 
 dragon ; now a noble arm of the sea, with its rocks, isles, 
 distant shores, and b.oundary of mountains ; and now a fair 
 and fertile champaign country, varied with hill, dale, and 
 rock, and skirted by the picturesque ridge of the Pentland 
 Mountains. But as the path gently circles around the base 
 of the cliffs, the prospect, composed as it is of these enchant- 
 ing and sublime objects, changes at every step, and presents 
 them blended with, or divided from, each other in every pos- 
 sible variety which can gratify the eye and the imagination. 
 When a piece of scenery so beautiful, yet so varied, so excit- 
 ing by its intricacy, and yet so sublime, is lighted up by the 
 tints of morning or of evening, and displays all that variety 
 of shadowy depth, exchanged with partial brilliancy, which 
 gives character even to the tamest of landscapes, the effect 
 approaches near to enchantment. This path jised to be my 
 favorite evening and morning resort, when engaged with a 
 favorite author or new subject of study. It is, I am informed, 
 now become totally impassable, a circumstance which, if true, 
 reflects little credit on the taste of the Good Town or its 
 leaders. * 
 
 * A beautiful and solid pathway has, within a few years, been formed around 
 these romantic rocks ; and the Author lias the pleasure to think that the passage 
 in the text gave rise to the undercaking. 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 67 
 
 It was from this fascinating path — the scene to me of so 
 much delicious musing, when life was young and promised to 
 be happy, that I have been unable to pass it over without an 
 episodical description — it was, I say, from this romantic path 
 that Butler saw the morning arise the day after the murder of 
 Porteous. It was possible for him with ease to have found 
 a much shorter road to the house to which he was directing 
 his course, and, in fact, that which he chose was extremely 
 circuitous. But to compose his own spirits, as well as to while 
 away the time, until a proper hour for visiting the family with- 
 out surprise or disturbance, he was induced to extend his cir- 
 cuit by the foot of the rocks, and to linger upon his way un- 
 til the morning should be considerably advanced. While, now 
 standing with his arms across and waiting the slow progress 
 of the sun above the horizon, now sitting upon one of the 
 numerous fragments which storms had detached from the 
 rocks above him, he is meditating alternately uj)on the horri- 
 ble catastrophe, which he had. witnessed, and upon the melan- 
 choly, and to him most interesting, news which he had learned 
 at Saddletree's, we will give the reader to understand who 
 Butler was, and how his fafe was connected with t1uit of Effie 
 Deans, the unfortunate li^ndmaiden of the careful Mrs. Sad- 
 dletree, m^- 
 
 Reuben Butler was -^English extraction, though born in 
 Scotland. His grandfaiher ^^-s a trooper in Monk's army, 
 and one of the party of dismounted dragoons which formed 
 the forlorn hope at the storming of Dundee in 1651. Stephen 
 Butler (called, from his talents in reading and expounding, 
 Scripture Stephen and Bible Butler) was a stanch Indejjend- 
 ent, and received in its fullest comprehension the promise that 
 the saints should inherit tlie earth. As hard knocks were 
 what had chiefly fallen to his share hitherto in the division of 
 this common property, he lost not the opportunity, which the 
 storm and plunder of a commercial place afforded him, to ap- 
 propriate as large a share of the better things of this world as 
 he could possibly compass. It would seem that he had suc- 
 ceeded indifferently well, for his exterior circumstances ap- 
 peared, in consequence of this event, to have been much 
 mended. 
 
 The troop to which he belonged was quartered at the vil- 
 lage of Dalkeith, as forming the body-guard of Monk, who, in 
 the capacity of general for the Commonwealth, resided in the 
 neighboring castle. When, on the eve of the Eestoration, the 
 general commenced his march from Scotland, a measure preg- 
 nant with such important consequences, he new-modelled his 
 
68 WAVEELEV NOVELS 
 
 troops, and inure especially those immediately about his per- 
 son, in order that they might consist chiefly of individuals 
 devoted to himself. On this occasion Scripture Stephen was 
 weighed in the balance and found wanting. It was supjDOsed 
 he felt no call to any expedition which might endanger the 
 reign of tiie military sainthood, and that he did not consider 
 himself as free in conscience to join with any party which 
 might be likely ultimately to acknowledge the interest of 
 Charles Stuart, the son of "^ the last man," as Charles I. w^s 
 familiarly and irreverently termed by them in their common 
 discourse, as well as in their more elaborate predications and 
 harangues. As the time did not admit of cashiering such dis- 
 sidents, Stephen Butler was only advised in a friendly way to 
 give up his horse and accoutrements to one of Middleton's old 
 troopers, who possessed an accommodating conscience of a 
 military stamp, and which squared itself chiefly upon those of 
 the colonel and paymaster. As this hint came recommended 
 by a certain sum of arrears presently payable, Stephen had 
 carnal wisdom enough to embrace- the proposal, and with 
 great indifference saw his old corps depart for Coldstream, on 
 their route for the south, to establish the tottering govern- 
 ment of England on a new basis. 
 
 The "zone" of the ex-trooper^^to use Horace's phrase, 
 was weighty enough to purchase a cottage and two or three 
 fields (still known by the name of Beersheba), within about 
 a Scottish mile of Dalkeith ; and there did Stephen establish 
 himself with a youthful helpmate, chosen out of the said vil- 
 lage, whose disposition to a comfortable settlement on this 
 side of the grave recojiciled her to the gruff manners, serious 
 temper, and weather-beaten features of the martial enthusiast. 
 Stephen did not long survive the falling on "evil da3's and 
 evil tongues" of wliieh Milton, in the same predicament, so 
 mouruf ully complains. At his death his consort remained an 
 early widow, with a male child of three years old, which, in 
 the sobriety wherewith it demeaned itself, in the old-fashioned 
 and even grim cast of its features, and in its sententious mode 
 of expressing itself, would sufficiently have vindicated the 
 honor of the widow of Beersheba, had any one thought proper 
 to challenge the babe's descent from Bible Butler. 
 
 Butler's principles had not descended to his family, or ex- 
 tended themselves among his neighbors. The air of Scotland 
 was alien to the growth of Independency, however favorable 
 to fanaticism under other colors. But, nevertheless, they were 
 not forgotten ; and a certain neighboring laird, who piqued 
 himself upon the loyalty of his principles " in the worst of 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 69 
 
 times " (though I never lieard they exposed him to more peril 
 than that of a broken head, or a niglit's lodging in the main 
 guard, when wine and Cavalierism predominated in his upper 
 story), had found it a convenient thing to rake up all matter 
 of accusation against the deceased Stephen. In this enumer- 
 ation his religious principles made no small figure, as, in- 
 deed, they must have seemed of the most exaggerated enormity 
 to one whose own were so small and so faintly traced as to be 
 well-nigh imperceptible. In these circumstances, poor widow 
 Butler was supplied with her full proportion of fines for non- 
 conformity, and all the other oppressions of the time, until 
 Beersheba was fairly wrenched out of her hands and became 
 the property of the laird who had so wantonly, as it had 
 hitherto appeared, persecuted this poor forlorn woman. When 
 his purpose was fairly achieved, he showed some remorse or 
 moderation, or whatever the reader may please to term it, in 
 permitting her to occupy her husband's cottage, and cultivate, 
 on no very heavy terms, a croft of land adjacent. Her son, 
 Benjamin, in the meanwhile, grew up to man's estate, and, 
 moved by that impulse which makes men seek marriage even 
 when its end can only be the perpetuation of misery, he wed- 
 ded and brought a wife, and eventually a son, Reuben, to 
 share the poverty of Beersheba. 
 
 The Laird of Dumbiedikes * had hitherto been moderate 
 in his exactions, perhaps because he was ashamed to tax too 
 highly the miserable means of support which remained to the 
 widow Butler. But when a stout active young fellow appeared 
 as the laborer of the croft in question, Dumbiedikes began to 
 think so broad a pair of shoulders might bear an additional 
 burden. He regulated, indeed, his management of his de- 
 pendants (who fortunately were but few in number) much 
 upon the principle of the carters whom he observed loading 
 their carts at a neighboring coal-hill, and who never failed to 
 clap an additional brace of hundredweights on their burden, 
 so soon as by any means they had compassed a new horse of 
 somewhat superior strength to that which had broken down 
 the day before. However reasonable this practice appeared 
 to the Laird of Dumbiedikes, he ought to have observed that 
 it may be overdone, and that it infers, as a matter of course, 
 the destruction and loss of both horse, cart, and loading. 
 Even so it befell when the additional "prestations" came to 
 be demanded of Benjamin Butler. A man of few words and 
 few ideas, but attached to Beersheba with a feeling like that 
 which a vegetable entertains to the spot in which it chances 
 
 * See Dumbiedikes. Note 13. 
 
70 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 to be planted, he neither remonstrated with the Laird nor en- 
 deavored to escape from liim, but, toiling night and day to 
 accomplish the terms of his taskmaster, fell into a burning 
 fever and died. His wife did not long survive him ; and, as 
 if it had been the fate of this family to be left orphans, onr 
 Reuben Butler was, about the year 1704-5, left in the same 
 circumstances in which his father had been placed, and under 
 the same guardianship, being that of his grandmother, the 
 widow of Monk's old trooper. 
 
 The same prospect of misery hung over the head of an- 
 other tenant of this hard-hearted lord of the soil. This was 
 a tough true-blue Presbyterian, called Deans, who, though 
 most obnoxious to the Laird on account of principles in church 
 and state, contrived to maintain his ground upon the estate 
 by regular payment of mail-duties, kain, arriage, carriage, 
 dry multure, lock, gowpen, and knaveship, and all the various 
 exactions now commuted for money, and summed up in the 
 emphatic word kent. But the years 1700 and 1701, long re- 
 membered in Scotland for dearth and general distress, sub- 
 dued the stout heart of the agricultural Whig. Citations by 
 the ground-officer, decreets of the Baron Court, sequestrations, 
 poindings of outsight and insight plenishing, flew about his 
 ears as fast as ever the Tory bullets whistled around those of 
 the Covenanters at Pentland, Bothwell Brig, or Aird's Moss. 
 Struggle as he might, and he struggled gallantly, "Douce 
 Davie Deans " was routed horse and foot, and lay at the mercy 
 of his grasping landlord just at the time that Benjamin But- 
 ler died. The fate of eacli family was anticipated ; but they 
 who prophesied their expulsion to beggary and ruin were dis- 
 appointed by an accidental circumstance. 
 
 On the very term-day when their ejection should have taken 
 place, when all their neighbors were prepared to pity and not 
 one to assist them, the minister of the parish, as well as a 
 doctor from Edinburgh, received a hasty summons to attend 
 the Laird of Dumbiedikes. Both were surprised, for his con- 
 tempt for both faculties had been pretty commonly his theme 
 over an extra bottle, that is to say, at least once every day. 
 The leech for the soul and he for the body alighted in the 
 court of the little old manor-house at almost the same time ; 
 and when they had gazed a moment at each other with some 
 surprise, they in the same breath expressed their conviction 
 that Dumbiedikes must needs be very ill indeed, since he sum- 
 moned them both to his presence at once. Ere the servant 
 could usher them to his apartment the party was augmented 
 by a man of law, Nichil Novit, writing himself procurator 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 71 
 
 before the sheriff court, for in those days there were no solici- 
 tors. This hitter personage was first summoned to the apart- 
 ment of the Laird, where, after some short space, the soul- 
 curer and the body-curer were invited to join him. 
 
 Dumbiedikes had been by tliis time transported into the 
 best bedroom, used only upon occasions of death and marriage, 
 and called, from the former of these occupations, the Dead 
 Eoom. There were in this apartment, besides the sick person 
 himself and Mr. Novit, the son and heir of the patient, a tall 
 gawky silly-looking boy of fourteen or fifteen, and a house- 
 keeper, a good buxom figure of a woman, betwixt forty and 
 fifty, who had kept the keys and managed matters at Dum- 
 biedikes since tlie lady's death. It was to these attendants 
 that Dumbiedikes addressed himself pretty nearly in the fol- 
 lowing words ; temporal and sj)iritual matters, the care of his 
 health and his afi'airs, being strangely jumbled in ahead which 
 was never one of the clearest : 
 
 " These are sair times wi' me, gentlemen and neighbors ! 
 amaist as ill as at the aughty-nine, when I was rabbled by the 
 collegeaners.* They mistook me muckle : they ca'd me a 
 Papist, but there was never a Papist bit about me, minister. 
 Jock, ye'il take warning. It's a debt we maun a' pay, and 
 there stands IS^ichil Novit that will tell ye I was never gude at 
 paying debts in my life. Mr. Novit, ye'll no forget to draw 
 the annual rent that's due on the yerl's band ; if I pay debt 
 to other folk, I think they suld pay it to me — that equals aquals. 
 Jock, when ye hae naething else to do, ye may be aye sticking 
 in a tree ; it will be growing, Jock, Avhen ye're sleepiug.f 
 My father tauld me sae forty years sin', but I ne'er fand time 
 to mind him. Jock, ne'er drink brandy in the morning, it 
 files the stamach sair ; gin ye take a morning's draught, let it 
 be aqua mirahilis ; Jenny there makes it weel. Doctor, my 
 breath is growing as scant as a broken-winded piper's, when 
 he has played f or f our-and-twenty hours at a penny- wedding. 
 Jenny, pit the cod aneath my head ; but it's a' needless ! 
 Mass John, could ye think o' rattling ower some bit short 
 prayer ; it wad do me gude maybe, and keep some queer 
 thoughts out o' my head. Say something, man." 
 
 "I cannot use a prayer like a ratt-rhyme," answered the 
 honest clergyman ; " and if you would have your soul re- 
 deemed like a prey from the fowler, Laird, you must needs 
 show me your state of mind." 
 
 "And shouldna ye ken that without my telling you ?" 
 
 *See College Students. Note 13. 
 
 tSee Eeconimeudatioh to Arboriculture. Note 14. 
 
72 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 answered the patient. "■ What have I been paying stipend 
 and teind, parsonage and vicarage for, ever sin' the aughty- 
 nine, an I canna get a sjoell of a prayer for't, the only time 
 I ever asked for ane in my life ? G-ang awa' wi' your Whig- 
 gery, if that's a' ye can do ; auld Curate Kiltstoup wad hae 
 read half the Prayer Book to me by this time. Awa' wi' ye ! 
 Doctor, let's see if ye can do onything better for me." 
 
 The Doctor, who had obtained some information in the 
 meanwhile from the liousekeeper on the state of his com- 
 plaints, assured him the medical art could not prolong his 
 life many hours. 
 
 " Then damn Mass John and you baith ! " cried the furi- 
 ous and intractable patient. " Did ye come here for naething 
 but to tell me that ye canna help me at the pinch ? Out wi' 
 them, Jenny — out o' the house ! and, Jock, my curse, and 
 the curse of Cromwell, go wi' ye, if ye gie them either fee or 
 bountith, or sae muckle as a black pair o' cheverons ! " 
 
 The clergyman and doctor made a speedy retreat out of 
 the apartment, while Dumbiedikes fell into one of those trans- 
 ports of violent and profane language which had procured 
 him the surname of Damn-me-dikes. "Bring me the brandy 
 bottle, Jenny, ye b ," he cried, with a voice in which pas- 
 sion contended with pain. " I can die as I have lived, with- 
 out fashing ony o' them. But there's ae thing," he said, 
 sinking his voice — '^ there's ae fearful thing hings about my 
 heart, and an anker of brandy winna wash it away. The 
 Deanses at Woodend ! I sequestered them in the dear years, 
 and now they are to flit, they'll starve ; and that Beersheba, 
 and that auld trooper's wife and her oe, they'll starve — they'll 
 starve ! Look out, Jock ; wliat kind o' night is't ? " 
 
 " On-ding o' snaw, father," answered Jock, after having 
 opened the window and looked out with great composure. 
 
 "They'll perish in the drifts !" said the expiring sinner — 
 " they'll perish wi' cauld ! but I'll be het eneugh, gin a' tales 
 be true." 
 
 This last &bservation was made under breath, and in a tone 
 which made the very attorney shudder. He tried his hand at 
 ghostly advice, probably for the first time in his life, and recom- 
 mended, as an opiate for the agonized conscience of the Laird, 
 reparation of the injuries he liad done to these distressed 
 families, which, he observed by the way, the civil law called 
 restitutio in integrum. But Mammon was struggling witii 
 Remorse for retaining his place in a bosom he had so long pos- 
 sessed ; and he partly succeeded, as an old tyrant proves of ten 
 too strong for his insurgent rebels. 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIA^ 78 
 
 " I canna do't/' he answered, with a voice of despair. '' It 
 would kill me to do't ; how can ye bid me pay back siller, 
 when ye ken how I want it ? or dispone Beersheba, when it lies 
 sae weel into my ain plaid-nuik ? Nature made Dumbiedikes 
 
 and Beersheba to be ae man's land. She did, by . Nichil, 
 
 it wad kill me to part them." 
 
 " But }'e maun die whether or no, Laird," said Mr. Novit ; 
 ■' and maybe ye wad die easier ; it's but trying. I'll scroll the 
 disposition in nae time." 
 
 ''Dinna sj)eak o't, sir," replied Dumbiedikes, "or I'll 
 fling the stoup at yoiir li^^ead. But, Jock, lad, ye see how the 
 warld warstles wi' me on my death-bed ; be kind to the puir 
 creatures, the Deansesand the Butlers — be kind to them, Jock. 
 Dinna let the warld get a grip o' ye, Jock ; but keej) the gear 
 thegither ! and whate'er ye do, dispone Beersheba at no rate. 
 Let the creatures stay at a moderate mailing, and hae bite and 
 soup ; it will maybe be the better wi' your father whare he's 
 gaun, lad." 
 
 After these contradictory instructions, the Laird felt his 
 mind so much at ease that he drank three bumpers of brandy 
 continuously, and ' ' soughed awa'," as Jenny expressed it, in an 
 attempt to sing " Deil stick the minister." 
 
 His death made a revolution in favor of the distressed 
 families. John Dumbie, now of Dumbiedikes, in his own 
 right, seemed to be close and selfish enough ; but wanted the 
 grasping spirit and active mind of his father ; and his guard- 
 ian happened to agree with him in opinion that his father's 
 dying recommendation should be attended to. The tenants, 
 therefore, were not actually turned out-of-doors among the 
 snow wreaths, and were allowed wherewith to procure butter- 
 milk and pease bannocks, which they ate under the f ul' force 
 of the original malediction. The cottage of Deans, called 
 Woodend, was not very distant from that of Beersheba. 
 Formerly there had been little intercourse between the fam- 
 ilies. Deans was a sturdy Scotchman, with all sorts of prej- 
 udices against the Southern, and the spawn of the Southern. 
 Moreover, Deans was, as we have said, a stanch Presbyterian, 
 of the most rigid and unbending adherence to what he con- 
 ceived to be the only possible straight line, as he was wont to 
 express himself, between right-hand heats and extremes and 
 left-hand defections ; and, therefore, he held in high dread 
 and horror all Independents, and whomsoever he supposed 
 allied to them. 
 
 But, notwithstanding these national prejudices and relig- 
 ious professions. Deans and the widow Butler were placed in 
 
74 WAVERLEY NOVELL 
 
 such a situation as naturally and at length created some inti- 
 macy between the families. They had shared a common 
 danger and a mutual deliverance. They needed each other's 
 assistance, like a company who, crossing a mountain stream, 
 are compelled to cling close together, lest the current should 
 be too powerful for any who are not thus supported. 
 
 On nearer acquaintance, too. Deans abated some of his 
 prejudices. He found old Mrs. Butler, though not thoroughly 
 ■grounded in the extent and bearing of the real testimony 
 against the defections of the times, had no opinions in favoi 
 of the Independent party ; neither was«iie an English Avoman. 
 Therefore, it was to be hoped that, iSiough she was the widow 
 of an enthusiastic corporal of Cromwell's dragoons, her grand- 
 son might be neither scliismatic nor anti-national, two qualities 
 concerning which Goodman Deans had as wholesome a terror 
 as against PajDists and Malignants. Above all, for Douce 
 Davie Deans had his weak side, he perceived that widow But- 
 ler looked up to him with reverence, listened to his advice, 
 and compounded for an occasional fling at the doctrines of 
 her deceased husband, to which, as we &ive seen, she was by 
 no means warmly attached, in consideration of tlie valuable 
 counsels which the Presbyterian afforded her for the man- 
 agement of her little farm. These usually concluded with, 
 " they may do otlierwise in England, neighbor Butler, for 
 aught I ken;" or, "it may be different in foreign parts;" 
 or, "they wha think differently on the great foundation of 
 our covenanted reformation, overturning and misguggling the 
 government and discipline of the kirk, and breaking down 
 the carved work of our Zion, might be for sawing the craft 
 wi' aits ; but I say pease, pease." And as his advice was 
 shrewd and sensible, though conceitedly given, it was received 
 with gratitude, and followed with respect. 
 
 The intercourse which took place betwixt the families at 
 Beersheba and Woodend became strict and intimate, at a very 
 early period, betwixt Reuben Butlei', with whom the reader is 
 already in some degree acquainted, and Jeanie Deans, the only 
 child of Douce Davie Deans by his first wife, " that singular 
 Christian woman," as he was wont to express himself, "whose 
 name was savory to all that knew her for a desirable professor. 
 Christian Menzies in Hochmagirdle." The manner of which 
 intimacy, and tlie consequences thereof, we now proceed to 
 relate. 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 
 Reuben and Rachel, though as fond as doves, 
 Were yet discreet and cautious in their loves, 
 Nor would attend to Cupid's wild commands, 
 Till cool reflection bade tliem join their hands. 
 When both were poor, they thought it argued ill 
 Of hasty love to make them poorer still. 
 
 Crabbe"s Parish Register. 
 
 While widow Butler and widoAver Deans struggled with pov- 
 erty, and the hard and sterile soil of those "parts and por- 
 tions " of the lands of Dumbiedikes which it was their lot to 
 occupy, it became gradually apj^arent that Deans was to gain 
 the strife, and his ally in the conflict was to lose it. The 
 former was a man, and not mucli past the prime of life ; 
 Mrs. Butler a woman, and declined into the vale of years. 
 This, indeed, ought in time to have been balanced by the cir- 
 cumstance that Reuben was growing up to assist his grand- 
 mother's labors, and that Jeanie Deans, as a girl, could be 
 only supposed to add to her father's burdens. But Douce 
 Davie Deans knew better things, and so schooled and trained 
 the young minion, as he called her, that from the time she 
 could walk, upwards, she was daily employed in some task or 
 other suitable to her age and capacity ; a circumstance which, 
 added to her father's daily instructions and lectures, tended to 
 give her mind, even when a child, a grave, serious, firm, and 
 reflecting cast. An uncommonly strong and healthy temper- 
 ament, free from all nervous affection and every other irreg- 
 ularity, which, attacking the body in its more noble functions, 
 so often influences the mind, tended greatly to establish this 
 fortitude, simplicity, and decision of character. 
 
 On the other hand, Reuben was weak in constitution, and, 
 though not timid in temper, might be safely pronounced 
 anxious, doubtful, and apprehensive. He partook of the 
 temperament of his mother, who had died of a consumption 
 in early age. He was a pale, tliin, feeble, sickly bo}*, and 
 somewhat lame, from an accident in early youth. He was, 
 besides, the child of a doting grandmother, whose too solici- 
 
W WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 tous attention to him soon taugiit him a sort of diflBdence in 
 himself, with a disposition to overrate his own importance, 
 which is one of the very worst consequences that childre*^ 
 deduce from over-indulgence. 
 
 Still, however, the two children clung to each other's so- 
 ciety, not more from habit than from taste. They herded to- 
 gether the handful of sheep, with the two or three cows, which 
 their parents turned out rather to seek food than actually tc 
 feed upon the unenclosed common of Dumbiedikes. It was 
 there that the two urchins might be seen seated beneath a 
 blooming bush of whin, their little faces laid close together 
 under the shadow of the same plaid drawn over both their heads, 
 while the landscape around was embrowned by an overshadow- 
 ing cloud, big with the shower which had driven the children to 
 shelter. On other occasions they went together to school, the 
 boy receiving that encouragement and example from his com- 
 panion, in crossing the little brooks which intersected their 
 path, and encountering cattle, dogs, and other perils upon 
 their journey, which the male sex in such cases usually con- 
 sider it as their prerogative to extend to the weaker. But 
 when, seated on the benches of the school-house, they began 
 to con their lessons together, Reuben, who was as much su- 
 perior to Jeanie Deans in acuteuess of intellect as inferior to 
 her in firmness of constitution, and in that insensibility to 
 fatigue and danger which depends on the conformation of the 
 nerves, was able fully to requite the kindness and countenance 
 with which, in other circumstances, she nsed to regard him. 
 He was decidedly the best scholar at the little parish school ; 
 and so gentle was his temper and disposition,- that he was 
 rather admired than envied by the little mob who occupied the 
 noisy mansion, although he was the declared favorite of the 
 master. Several girls, in particular (for in Scotland they are 
 taught with the boys), longed to be kind to and comfort the 
 sickly lad, who was so much cleverer than his companions. 
 The character of Reuben Butler was so calculated as to oUer 
 scope both for their sympathy and their admiration, the feel- 
 ings, perhaps, through which the female sex, the more deserv- 
 ing part of them at least, is more easily attached. 
 
 But Reuben, naturally reserved and distant, improved none 
 of these advantages ; and only became more attached to Jeanie 
 Deans, as the enthusiastic approbation of his master assured 
 him of fair prospects in future life, and awakened his ambi- 
 tion. In the meantime, every advance that Reuben made in 
 learning (and, considering his opportunities, they wereuncoBi- 
 monly great) rendered him less capable of attending to the 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN Tt 
 
 iomestic duties of his grandmother's farm. While studying 
 i\ie pons asinorumm Euclid, he suffered every " cuddie" upon 
 the common to trespass upon a large field of pease belonging 
 to the Laird, and nothing but the active exertions of Jeanie 
 Deans, with her little dog Dustiefoot, could have saved great 
 lossand consequent punishment. Similar miscarriages marked 
 his progress in his classical studies. He read Virgil's Georgics 
 till he did not know bear from barley ; and had nearly de- 
 stroyed the crofts of Beersheba while attempting to cultivate 
 them according to the practice of Columella and Cato the 
 Censor. 
 
 These blunders occasioned grief to his grand-dame, and 
 disconcerted the good opinion which her neighbor, Davie 
 Deans, had for some time entertained of Reuben. 
 
 " I see naething ye can make of that silly callant, neighbor 
 Butler," said he to the old lady, "unless ye train him to the 
 wark o' the ministry. And ne'er was there mair need of 
 poorf u' preachers than e'en now in these cauld Gallio days, 
 when men's liearts are hardened like the nether millstone, till 
 they come to regard none of these things. It's evident this 
 puir callant of yours will never be able to do an usefu' day's 
 wark, unless it be as an ambassador from our Master ; and I 
 will make it my business to procure a license when he is fit 
 for the same, trusting he will be a shaft cleanly polished, and 
 meet to be used in the body of the kirk, and that he shall not 
 turn again, like i\\^ sow, to wallow in the mire of heretical 
 extremes and defections, but shall have the wings of a dove, 
 though he hath lain among the pots." 
 
 The poor widow gulped down the affront to her husband's 
 principles implied in this caution, and hastened to take Butler 
 from the High School, an^ encourage him in the pursuit of 
 mathematics and divinity, 'the only physics and- ethics that 
 chanced to be in fashion at the time. 
 
 Jeanie Deans- was now compelled to part from the com- 
 panion of her labor, her study, and her pastime, and it was 
 with more tlian childish feeling that both children regarded 
 the separation. But they were young, and hope was high, and 
 they separated like those who hope to meet again at a more 
 auspicious hour. 
 
 While Reuben Butler was acquiring at the University of 
 St. Andrews tlie knowledge necessary for a clergyman, arid 
 macerating his body with the privations which were necessary 
 in seeking food for hi^jnind, his grand-dame became daily 
 less able to struggle wmi her little farm; and was at length 
 obliged to throw it up to the new Laird of Dumbiedikes. 
 
IS WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 That great personage was no absolute Jew, and did not cheat 
 her in making the bargain more than was tolerable. He even 
 gave her permission to tenant the house in which she had lived 
 with her husband, as long as it should be " tenantable ; " only 
 he protested against paying for a farthing of repairs, any be- 
 nevolence which he possessed being of the passive, but by no 
 means of the active mood. 
 
 In the meanwhile, from superior shrewdness, skill, and 
 other circumstances, some of them purely accidental, Davie 
 Deans gained a footing in the world, the possession of some 
 wealth, the reputation of more, and a growing disposition to 
 preserve and increase his store, for which, when he thought 
 upon it seriously, he was inclined to blame himself. From 
 his knowledge in agriculture, as it was then practised, he be- 
 came a sort of favorite with the Laird, who had no pleasure 
 either in active sports or in society, and was wont to end his 
 daily saunter by calling at the cottage of Woodend. 
 
 Being himself a man of slow ideas and confused utterance, 
 Dumbiedikes used to sit or stand for half an hour with an old 
 laced hat of his father's upon his head, and an empty tobacco- 
 pipe in his mouth, with his eyes following Jeanie Deans, or 
 " the lassie," as he called her, through the course of her daily 
 domestic labor ; while her father, after exhausting the subject 
 of bestial, of ploughs, and of harrows, often took an opportu- 
 nity of going full-sail into controversial subjects, to which 
 discussions the dignitary listened with much seeming patience, 
 but without making any reply, or, indeed, as most people 
 thought, without understanding a single word of what the 
 orator was saying. Deans, indeed, denied this stoutly, as an 
 insult at once to his own talents for expounding hidden truths, 
 of which he was a little vain, and to the Laird's capacity of 
 understanding them. He said, " Dumbiedikes 7,as nane of 
 these flashy gentles, wi' lace on their skirts and swords at 
 their tails, that were rather for riding on horseback to hell 
 than ganging barefooted to Heaven. He wasna like his fa- 
 ther — nae profane company-keeper, nae swearer, nae drinker, 
 nae frequenter of play-house, or music-house, or dancing- 
 house, nae Sabbath-breaker, nae imposer of aiths, or bonds, 
 or denier of liberty to the flock. He clave to the warld, and 
 the warld's gear, a wee ower muckle, but then there was some 
 breathing of a gale upon his spirit," etc., etc. All this hon- 
 est Davie said and believed. 
 
 It is not to be .supposed that, % a father and a man of 
 sense and observation, the constant direction of the Laird's 
 eyes towards Jeanie was altogether unnoticed. This circnm- 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 79 
 
 stance, however, made a niucli greater impression npon an- 
 other member of his family, a second helpmate, to wit, whom 
 he had chosen to take to his bosom ten years after the death 
 of his first. Some people were of opinion that Donee Davie 
 had been rather surprised into this step, for in general he was 
 no friend to marriages or giving in marriage, and seemed 
 rather to regard that state of society as a necessary evil — a 
 thing lawful, and to be tolerated in the imperfect state of our 
 nature, but which clipped the wings with which we ought to 
 soar upwards, and tethered the soul to its mansion of clay, 
 and the creature comforts of Avife and bairns. His own prac- 
 tice, however, had in this material point varied from his prin- 
 ciples, since, as we have seen, he twice knitted for himself 
 this dangerous and ensnaring entanglement. 
 
 Rebecca, his spouse, had by no means the same horror of 
 matrimony, and as she made marriages in imagination for every 
 neighbor round, she failed not to indicate a match betwixt 
 Dumbiedikes and her stepdaughter Jeanie. The goodman 
 used regularly to frown aud pshaw whenever this topic was 
 touched upon, but usually ended by taking his bonnet and 
 walking out of the house to conceal a certain gleam of satis- 
 faction which, at such a suggestion, involuntarily diffused it- 
 self over his austere features. 
 
 The more youthful part of my readers may naturally ask 
 whether Jeanie Deans was deserving of this mute attention of 
 the Laird of Dumbiedikes ; and the historian, with due regard 
 to veracity, is compelled to answer that her personal attrac- 
 tions were of no uncommon description. She was short, and 
 rather too stoutly made for her size, had gray eyes, light-col- 
 ored hair, a round good-humored face, much tanned with the 
 sun, and her only peculiar charm Avas an air of inexpressible 
 serenity, which a good conscience, kind feelings, contented 
 temper, and the regular discharge of all her duties, spread 
 over her features. There was nothing, it may be supposed, 
 very appalling in the form or manners of this rustic heroine ; 
 yet, whether from sheepish bashf ulness, or from want of de- 
 cision and imperfect knowledge of his own mind on the sub- 
 ject, the Laird of Dumbiedikes, with his old laced hat and 
 empty tobacco-pipe, came and enjoyed the beatific vision of 
 Jeanie Deans day after day, week after week, year after year, 
 without proposing to accomplish any of the prophecies of the 
 stepmother. 
 
 This good lady began to grow doubly impatient on the 
 subject when, after having been some years married, she her- 
 self presented Donee Davie with anotner daughter, who was 
 
80 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 named Euphemia, by corruption, Effie. It was then that 
 Eebecca began to turn impatient with the slow pace at which 
 the Laird's wooing proceeded, judiciously arguing that, as 
 Lady Dumbiedikes would have but little occasion for tocher, 
 the principal part of her gudeman's substance would naturally 
 descend to the child by the second marriage. Other step- 
 dames have tried less laudable means for clearing the way to 
 the succession of their own children ; but Eebecca, to do her 
 justice, only sought little Effie's advantage through the pro- 
 motion, or which must have generally been accounted such, of 
 her elder sister. She therefore tried every female art within 
 the compass of her simple skill to bring the Laird to a point ; 
 but had the mortification to perceive that her efforts, like 
 those of an unskilful angler, only scared the trout she meant 
 to catch. Upon one occasion, in particular, when she joked 
 with the Laird on the propriety of giving a mistress to the 
 house of Dumbiedikes, he was so effectually startled that 
 neither laced hat, tobacco-pipe, nor the intelligent proprietor 
 of these movables, visited Woodend for a fortnight. Eebecca 
 was therefore compelled to leave the Laird to proceed at his 
 own snail's pace, convinced by experience of the grave-dig- 
 ger's aphorism, that your dull ass will not mend his pace for 
 beating. 
 
 Eeuben in the meantime pursued his studies at the uni- 
 versity, supplying his wants by teaching the younger lads the 
 knowledge he himself acquired, and thus at once gaining the 
 means of maintaining himself at the seat of learning and fix- 
 ing in his mind the elements of what he had already obtained. 
 In this manner, as is usual among the poorer students of 
 divinity at Scottish universities, he contrived not only to 
 maintain himself according to his simple wants, but even to 
 send considerable assistance to his sole remaining parent, a 
 sacred duty of which the Scotch are seldom negligent. His 
 progress in knowledge of a general kind, as well as in the 
 studies proper to his profession, was very considerable, but 
 was little remarked, owing to the retired modesty of his dis- 
 position, which in no respect qualified him to set oif his learn- 
 ing to the best advantage. And, thus had Butler been a man 
 given to make complaints, he had his tale to tell, like others, 
 of unjust preferences, bad luck, and hard usage. On these 
 subjects, however, he was habitually silent, perhaps from mod- 
 esty, perliaps from a touch of pride, or perhaps from a con- 
 junction of both. 
 
 He obtained his license as a preacher of the Gospel, with 
 some compliments from the presbytery by whom it was be^ 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 81 
 
 stowed ; but this did not lead to any preferment, and he f onnd 
 it necessary to make the cottage at Beersheba his residence 
 for some months, with no other income than was afforded by 
 the precarious occupation of teaching in one or other of the 
 neighboring families. After having greeted his aged grand- 
 mother, his first visit was to Woodend, where he was received 
 by Jeanie with warm cordiality, arising from recollections 
 which had never been dismissed from her mind, by Rebecca 
 with good-humored hospitality, and by old Deans in a mode 
 peculiar to himself. 
 
 Highly as Douce Davie honored the clergy, it was not 
 upon each individual of the cloth that he bestowed his ap- 
 probation ; and, a little jealous, perhaps, at seeing his youth- 
 ful acquaintance erected into the dignity of a teacher and 
 preacher, he instantly attacked him upon various points of 
 controversy, in order to discover whether he might not have 
 fallen into some of the snares, defections, and desertions of the 
 time. Butler was not only a man of stanch Presbyterian 
 principles, but was also willing to avoid giving pain to his old 
 friend by disputing upon points of little importance ; and 
 therefore he might have hoped to have come like refined gold 
 out of the furnace of Davie's interrogatories. But the result 
 on the mind of that strict investigator was not altogether so 
 favorable as might have been hoped and anticipated. Old 
 Judith Butler, who had hobbled that evening as far as Wood- 
 end, in order to enjoy the congratulations of her neighbors 
 upon Reuben's return, and upon his high attainments, of 
 which she was herself not a little proud, was somewhat mor- 
 tified to find that her old friend Deans did not enter into the 
 subject with the warmth she expected. At first, indeed, he 
 seemed rather silent than dissatisfied ; and it was not till 
 Judith had essayed the subject more than once that it led to 
 the following dialogue : 
 
 " Aweel, neibor Deans, I thought ye wad hae been glad to 
 see Reuben amang us again, poor fallow." 
 
 " I am glad, Mrs. Butler," was the neighbor's concise an- 
 swer. 
 
 " Since he has lost bis grandfather and his father — praised 
 DC Him that giveth and taketh ! — I ken nae friend he has in 
 the world that's been sae like a father to him as the sell o' ye, 
 neibor Deans." 
 
 "God is the only Father of the fatherless," said Deans, 
 touching his bonnet and looking upwards. ' ' Give honor where 
 it is due, gudewife, and not to an unworthy instrument." 
 
 " Aweel, that's your way o' turning it, and nae doubt ye 
 
82 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 ken best. But I hae kenned ye, Davie, send a f orpit c/ meal tc 
 Beersheba when there wasna a bow left in the meal-ark at 
 Woodend ; ay, and I hae kenn'd ye " 
 
 '' Grudewife," said Davie, interrupting her, "these are but 
 idle tales to tell me, fit for naething but to puff up our in- 
 ward man wi' our ain vain acts. I stude beside blessed Alex- 
 ander Peden, when I heard him call the death and testimony 
 of our happy martyrs but draps of bluid and scarts of ink in 
 respect of fitting discharge of our duty ; and what suld I think 
 of onything the like of me can do ? " 
 
 " Weel, neibor Deans, ye ken best ; but I maun say that I 
 am sure you are glad to see my bairn again. The halt's gane 
 now, unless he has to walk ower mony miles at a stretch ; and 
 he has a wee bit color in his cheek, that glads my auld een to 
 see it ; and he has as decent a black coat as the minister ; 
 and r." 
 
 '' I am very h'^artily glad he is weel and thriving," said Mr. 
 Deans, with a gravity that seemed intended to cut short the 
 subject ; but a woman who is bent upon a point is not easily 
 pushed aside from it. 
 
 " And," continued Mrs. Butler, " he can wag his head in a 
 pulpit now, neibor Deans, think but of that — my ain oe — and 
 a'body maun sit still and listen to him, as if lie were the Paip 
 of Rome." 
 
 " The what ? the who, woman ?"said Deans, with a stern- 
 ness far beyond his usual gravity, as soon as these offensive 
 words had struck upon the tympanum of his ear. 
 
 " Eh, guide us !" said the poor woman ; " I had forgot 
 what an ill will ye had aye at the Paip, and sae had my puir 
 gudeman, Stephen Butler. Mony an afternoon he wad sit and 
 take up his testimony again the Paip, and again baptising of 
 bairns, and the like." 
 
 " Woman," reiterated Deans, '' either speak about what ye 
 ken something o', or be silent. I say that Independency is a 
 foul heresy, and Anabaptism a damnable and deceiving error, 
 whilk suld be rooted out of the land wi' the fire o' the spiritual 
 and the sword o' the civil magistrate." 
 
 " Weel, weel, neibor, I'll no say that ye mayna be right," 
 answered the submissive Judith. "I am sure ye are right 
 about the sawing and the mawing, the shearing and the 
 leading, and what for suld ye no be right about kirk-wark, 
 too ? But concerning my oe. Reuben Butler " 
 
 "Reuben Butler, gudewife," said David, with solemnity, 
 "is a lad I wish heartily weel to, even as if he were mine ain 
 son : but I doubt there will be outs and ins in the track of hie 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 88 
 
 walk. I mnckle fear liis gifts will get the heels of his grace. 
 He has ower muckle human wit and learning, and thinks as 
 mnckle about the form of the bicker as he does about the 
 healsomeness of the food ; he maun broider the marriage-gar- 
 ment with lace and passments, or it's no gude eneugh for 
 him. And it's like he's something proud o' his human gifts 
 and learning, whilk enables him to dress up his doctrine in 
 that fine air}^ dress. But," added he, at seeing the old wo- 
 man's uneasiness at his discourse, "affliction may gie him a 
 jagg, and let the wind out o' him, as out o' a cow that's eaten 
 wet clover, and the lad may do weel, and be a burning and a 
 shining light ; and I trust it will be yours to see, and his to 
 feel it, and that soon." 
 
 Widow Butler was obliged to retire, unable to make any- 
 thing more of her neighbor, whose discourse, though she did 
 not comprehend it, filled her with undefined apprehensions 
 on her grandson's account, and greatly depressed the joy with 
 which she had welcomed him on his return. And it must 
 not be concealed, in justice to Mr. Deans's discernment, that 
 Butler, in their conference, had made a greater display of his 
 learning than the occasion called for, or than was likely to be 
 acceptable to the old man, Avho, accustomed to consider him- 
 self as a person pre-eminently entitled to dictate upon theo- 
 logical subjects of controversy, felt rather humbled and mor- 
 tified when learned authorities were placed in array against 
 him. In fact, Butler had not escaped the tinge of pedantry 
 which naturally flowed from his education, and was apt, on 
 many occasions, to make parade of his knowledge, when there 
 was no need of such vanity. 
 
 Jeanie Deans, however, found no fault with this display of 
 learning, but on the contrary, admii'ed it ; perhaps on the 
 same score that her sex are said to admire men of courage, on 
 account of their own deficiency in that qualification. The 
 circumstances of their families threw the young people con- 
 stantly together; their old intimacy was renewed, though upon 
 a footing better adapted to their age ; audit became at length 
 understood betwixt them that their union should be deferred 
 no longer than until Butler should obtain some steady means 
 of support, however humble. This, however, was not a matter 
 speedily to be accomplished. Plan after plan was formed, 
 and plan after plan failed. The good-humored cheek of 
 Jeanie lost the first flush of juvenile freshness ; Reuben's brow 
 assumed the gravity of manhood ;.yet the means of obtaining 
 a settlement seemed remote as ever. Fortunately for the 
 lovers, their passion was of no ardent or enthusiastic cast ; 
 
84 WAVE RLE Y NOVELS ' 
 
 and a sense of duty on both sides induced them to bear witii 
 patient fortitude the protracted interval which divided them 
 from eacli other. 
 
 In the meanwhile, time did not roll on without effecting 
 his usual changes. The widow of Stephen Butler, so long the 
 prop of the family of Beersheba, was gathered to her fathers ; 
 and Rebecca, the careful spouse of our friend Davie Deans, was 
 also summoned from her plans of matrimonial and domestic 
 economy. The morning after her death, Eeuben Butler went 
 to offer his mite of consolation to his old friend and benefac- 
 tor. He witnessed, on this occasion, a remarkable struggle 
 betwixt the force of natural affection and the religious stoi- 
 cism which tlie sufferer thought it w^s incumbent upon him 
 to maintain under each earthly dispensation, whether of weal 
 or woe. 
 
 On his arrival at the cottage, Jeanie, with her eyes over- 
 sowing with tears, pointed to the little orchard, " in which," 
 she whispered with broken accents, " my poor father has been 
 since his misfortune." Somewhat alarmed at this account, 
 Butler entered the orchard, and advanced slowly towards his 
 old friend, who, seated in a small rude arbor, appeared to be 
 sunk in the extremity of his affliction. He lifted his eyes 
 somewhat sternly as Butler approached, as if offended at the 
 interruption ; but as the young man hesitated whether he ought 
 to retreat or advance, he arose and came forward to meet him 
 with a self-possessed and even dignified air. 
 
 "Young man," said the sufferer, "lay it not to heart 
 though the righteous perish and the merciful are removed, 
 seeing, it may well be said, that they are taken away from the 
 evils to come. Woe to me, were I to shed a tear for the wife 
 of my bosom, when I might weep rivers of water for this af- 
 flicted church, cursed as it is with carnal seekers and with the 
 dead of heart." 
 
 "I am happy," said Butler, " that you can forget your 
 private affliction in your regard for public duty." 
 
 "Forget, Reuben ?" said poor Deans, putting his handker- 
 chief to his eyes. "She's not to be forgotten on this side of 
 time ; but He that gives the wound can send the ointment. I 
 declare there have been times during this night when my medi- 
 tation has been so wrapped that I knew not of my heavy loss. 
 It has been with me as with the worthy John Semple, called 
 Carspharn John,* upon a like trial : I have been this night 
 on the banks of Ulai, pluclving an apple here and there." 
 
 Notwithstanding tlie assumed fortitude of Deans, which 
 
 * See Note 15^ 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 85 
 
 he conceived to be the dischai-ge of a great Christian duty, 
 he had too good a heart not to suifer deeply under this heavy 
 loss. Woodend became altogetlier distasteful to him ; and ar 
 he had obtained both substance and experience by his manage- 
 ment of that little farm, he resolved to employ them as a 
 dairy-farmer, or cow-feeder, as they are called in Scotland. 
 The situation he chose for his new settlement was at a place 
 called St. Leonard's Crags, lying betwixt Edinburgh and the 
 mountain called Arthurs Seat, and adjoining to the extensive 
 sheep pasture still named the King's Park, from its having 
 been formerly dedicated to the preservation of the royal game. 
 Here he rented a small lonely house, about half a mile dis- 
 tant from the nearest point of the city, but the site of which, 
 with all the adjacent ground, is now occupied by the build- 
 ings which form the south-eastern suburb. An extensive 
 pasture-ground adjoining, which Deans rented from the 
 keeper of the Eoyal Park, enabled him to feed his milk- 
 cows ; and the unceasing industry and activity of Jeanie. his 
 eldest daughter, was exerted in making the most of their 
 produce. 
 
 She had now less frequent oj)portunities of seeing Eeuben, 
 who had been obliged, after various disappointments, to ac- 
 cept the subordinate situation of assistant in a parochial 
 school of some eminence, at three or four miles' distance 
 from the city- Here he distinguished himself, and became 
 acquainted with several respectable burgesses, who, on ac- 
 count of health or other reasons, chose that their children 
 should commence their education in this little village. His 
 prospects were thus gradually brightening, and upon each 
 visit which he paid at St. Leonard's he had an opportunity 
 of gliding a hint to this purpose into Jeanie's ear. These 
 visits were necessarily very rare, on account of the demands 
 which the duties of the school made upon Butler's time. 
 Nor did he dare to make them even altogether so frequent as 
 these avocations Avould permit. Deans received him with 
 civility indeed, and even with kindness : but Eeuben. as is 
 usual in such cases, imagined that he read his purpose in his 
 eyes, and was afraid too premature an explanation on the sub- 
 ject would draw down liis positive disapproval. Upon the 
 whole, therefore, he judged it prudent to call at St. Leon- 
 ard's just so frequently as old acquaintance and neighborhood 
 seemed to authorize, alid no of tener. There was another per- 
 son who was more regular in his visits. 
 
 When Davie Deans intimated tothe Lairdof Dnmbiedikes 
 his purpose of "quitting wi' the land and house at Woodend." 
 
86 WAVERLEJ: NOVELS 
 
 the Laird stared and said nothing. He made his nsual visits at 
 the usual hour without remark, until the day before the term, 
 when, observing the bustle of moving furniture already com- 
 menced, the great east-country ''awmrie^' dragged out of its 
 nook, and standing with its shoulder to the company, like an 
 awkward booby about to leave the room, the Laird again stared 
 mightily, and was heard to ejaculate, "Hegh, sirs!" Even 
 after the day of departure was past and gone, the Laird of Dum- 
 biedikes, at his usual hour, which was that at which David 
 Deans was wont to ^'' loose the pleugli," presented himself before 
 the closed door of the cottage at Woodend, and seemed as much 
 astonished at finding it shut against his approach as if it was 
 not exactly what he had to expect. On this occasion he was 
 heard to ejaculate, " G-ude guide us ! " which,by those who knew 
 him, was considered as a very unusual mark of emotion. From 
 that moment forward, Dumbiedikes became an altered man, 
 and the regularity of his movements, hitherto so exemplary, 
 was as totally disconcerted as those of a boy's watch when he 
 has broken the main-spring. Like the index of the said watch, 
 did Dumbiedikes spin round the whole bounds of his little 
 propertv, which may be likened unto the dial of the time- 
 piece, with unwonted velocity. There was not a cottage into 
 which he did not enter, nor scarce a maiden on whom he did 
 not stare. But so it was, that although there were better farm- 
 houses on the land than Woodend, and certainly much prettier 
 girls than Jeanie Deans, yet it did somehow befall that the 
 blank in the Laird's time was not so pleasantly filled up as it 
 had been. There was no seat accommodated him so well as the 
 "bunker" at Woodend, and no face he loved so much to gaze 
 on as Jeanie Deans's. So, after spinning round and round his 
 little orbit, and then remaining stationary for a week, it seems 
 to have occurred to him that he was not pinned down to cir- 
 culate on a pivot, like the hands of the watch, but possessed 
 the power of shifting his central point and extending his circle 
 if he thought proper. To realize which privilege of change 
 of place, he bought a pony from a Highland drover, and with 
 its assistance and company stepped, or rather stumbled, as far 
 as St. Leonard's Crags. 
 
 Jeanie Deans, though so much accustomed to the Laird's 
 staring that she was sometimes scarce conscious of his presence, 
 had nevertheless some occasional fears lest he should call in 
 the organ of speech to back those expressions of admiration 
 which he bestowed on her through his eyes. Should this 
 happen, farewell, she thought, to all chance of a union with 
 Butler. For her father, liowever stout-hearted and inde- 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 87 
 
 pendent in civil and religious principles, was not without that 
 respect for the iiiird of the land so deeply imprinted on the 
 Scottish tenantry of the period. Moreover, if he did not posi- 
 tively dislike Butler, yet his fund of carnal learning was often 
 the object of sarcasms on David's part, which were perhaps 
 founded in jealousy, and which certainly indicated no partial- 
 ity for the party against whom they were launched. And, 
 lastly, the match with Dumbiedikes would have presented 
 irresistible charms to one who used to complain that he felt- 
 himself apt to take "ower grit an armfu' o' the warld." So 
 that, upon the whole, tlie Laird's diurnal visits were disagree- 
 able to Jeanie from apprehension of future consequences, and 
 it served much to console her, upon removing from the spot 
 where she was bred and born, that she had seen the last of 
 Dumbiedikes, his laced hat, and tobacco-pipe. The -poor girl 
 no more expected he could muster courage to follow her to St. 
 Leonard's Crags than tliat any of her apple-trees or cabbages, 
 which she had left rooted in the "^yard" at Woodend, would 
 spontaneously, and unaided, have undertaken the same jour- 
 ney. It was, therefore, with much more surprise than pleas- 
 ure that, on the sixth day after their removal to St. Leonard's, 
 she beheld Dumbiedikes arrive, laced hat, tobacco-pipe, and 
 all, and, with the self -same greeting of " How's a' wi' ye, 
 Jeanie ? Whare's the gudeman ? " assume as nearly as he 
 could the same position in the cottage at St. Leonard's which 
 he had so long and so regularly occupied at Woodend. He 
 was no sooner, however, seated than, with an unusual exertion 
 of his powers of conversation, he added, "Jeanie — I say, 
 Jeanie, woman;" here he extended his hand towards her 
 shoulder with all the fingers spread out as if to clutch it, but 
 in so bashful and awkward a manner that, when she whisked 
 herself beyond its reach, the paw remained suspended in the 
 air with the palm open, like the claw of an heraldic griffin. 
 "Jeanie," continued the swain, in this moment of inspiration 
 — "I say, Jeanie, it's a braw day out-bye, and the roads are 
 ao that ill for boot-hose." 
 
 " The deil's in the daidlingbody," muttered Jeanie between 
 her teeth ; " wha wad hae thought o' his daikering out this 
 length ? " And she afterwards confessed that she threw a 
 little of this ungracious sentiment into her accent and man- 
 ner ; for her father being abroad, and the "body," as she 
 irreverently termed the landed proprietor, "looking unco gleg 
 and canty, she didna ken what he might be coming out wi' 
 next." 
 
 Her frowns, however, acted as a complete sedative, and 
 
88 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 the Laird relapsed from that day into his former taciturn 
 habits, visiting the cow-feeder's cottage three or four times 
 every week, when the weather permitted, with apparently no 
 other purpose than to stare at Jeanie Deans, while Douce 
 Davie poured forth his eloquence upon the controversies and 
 testimonies of the day. 
 
CHAPTER X 
 
 Her air, her manners, all who saw admired, 
 Courteous, though coy, and gentle, though retired ; 
 The joy of youth and health her eyes display'd, 
 And ease of heart her every look convey'd. 
 
 Crabbe. 
 
 The visits of the Laird thus again sunk into matters of ordi- 
 nary course, from which nothing was to be expected or appre- 
 hended. If a lover could have gained a fair one as a snake is 
 said to fascinate a bird, by pertinaciously gazing on her with 
 great stupid greenish eyes, which began now to be occasion- 
 ally aided by spectacles, unquestionably Dumbiedikes would 
 have been tlie person to perform the feat. But the art of 
 fascination seems among the artes ijerditw, and I cannot learn 
 that this most j)ertinacious of starers produced any effect by 
 his attentions beyond an occasional yawn. 
 
 In the meanwhile, the object of his gaze was gradually at- 
 taining the verge of youth, and approaching to what is called 
 in females the middle age, whicli is impolitely held to begin 
 a few years earlier with their more fragile sex than with men. 
 Many people would have beenof opinion that the Laird would 
 have done better to have transferred his glances to an object 
 possessed of far superior charms to Jeanie's, even when Jeanie's 
 were in their bloom, who began now to be distinguished by all 
 who visited the cottage at St. Leonard's Crags. 
 
 Effie Deans, under the tender and affectionate care of her 
 sister, had now shot up into a beautiful and blooming girl. 
 Her Grecian-shaped head was j^rof usely rich in waving ringlets 
 of brown hair, which, confined by a blue snood of silk, and 
 shading a laughing Hebe countenance, seemed the picture of 
 health, pleasure, and contentment. Her brown russet short- 
 gown set off a shape which time, perhaps, might be expected 
 to render too robust, the frequent objection to Scottish beauty, 
 but which, in lier present early age, was slender and taper, 
 with that graceful and easy sweep of outline which at once 
 indicates health and beautiful proportion of parts. 
 
 These growing charms, in all their juvenile profusion, had 
 
W) WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 no power to shake the steadfast mind, or divert the fixed gaze, 
 of the constant Laird of Dunibiedikes. But there was scarce 
 another eye tliat could behold this living picture of health and 
 beauty without pausing on it with pleasure. The traveller 
 stopped his weary horse on the eve of entering the city which 
 was the end of his journey, to gaze at the sylph-like form that 
 tripped by him, with her milk -pail poised on her head, bearing 
 herself so erect, and stepping so light and free under her bur- 
 den, that it seemed rather an ornament than an encumbrance. 
 The lads of the neighboring suburb, who held their evening 
 rendezvous for putting the stone, casting the hammer, play- 
 ing at long bowls, and other athletic exercises, watched the 
 motions of Effie Deans, and contended with each other which 
 should have the good fortune to attract her attention. Even 
 the rigid Presbyterians of her father's persuasion, who held 
 each indulgence of the eye and sense to be a snare at least, if 
 not a crime, were surprised into a moment's delight while 
 gazing on a creature so exquisite — instantly checked by a 
 sigh, reproaching at once their own weakness, and mourning 
 that a creature so fair should share in the common and hered- 
 itary guilt and imperfection of our nature. She was currently 
 entitled the Lily of St. Leonard's, a name which she deserved 
 as much by her guileless purity of thought, speech, and ac- 
 tion as by her uncommon loveliness of face and person. 
 
 Yet there were points in Effie's character which gave rise 
 not only to strange doubt and anxiety on the part of Douce 
 David Deans, whose ideas were rigid, as may easily be sup- 
 posed, upon the subject of youthful amusements, but even of 
 serious apprehension to her more indulgent sister. The chil- 
 dren of the Scotch of the inferior classes are usually spoiled 
 by the early indulgence of their parents ; how, wherefore, 
 and to what degree, the lively and instructive narrative of 
 the amiable and accomplished authoress* of Glenbia^nie has 
 saved me and all future scribblers the trouble of recording. 
 Effie had had a double share of this inconsiderate and mis- 
 judged kindness. Even the strictness of her father's princi- 
 ples could not condemn the sports of infancy and childhood ; 
 and to the good old man his younger daughter, the child ol 
 his old age, seemed a child for some years after she attained 
 the years of womanhood, was still called the "'bit lassie " and 
 " little Effie," and was permitted to run up and down uncon- 
 trolled, unless upon the Sabbath or at the times of family 
 worship. Her sister, with all the love and care of a mother, 
 could not be supposed to possess the same authoritative id 
 
 * Mrs. Elizabeth Hamilton. 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 91 
 
 flnence ; and that wliich she had hitherto exercised became 
 gradually limited and diminished as Effie's advancing years 
 entitled her, in her own conceit at least, to the right of inde- 
 nendence and free agency. With all the innocence and good- 
 ness of disposition, therefore, which we have described, the 
 Lily of St. Leonard's possessed a little fund of self-conceit 
 and obstinacy, and some warmth and irritability of temper, 
 partly natural perhaps, but certainly much increased by the 
 unrestrained freedom of her childhood. Her character will 
 be best illustrated by a cottage evening scene. 
 
 The careful father was absent in his well-stocked byre, 
 foddering those useful and patient animals on whose produce 
 his living depended, and the summer evening was beginning 
 to close in, when Jeanie Deans began to be very anxious for 
 the appearance of her sister, and to fear that she would not 
 reach home before her father returned from the labor of the 
 evening, when it was his custom to have " family exercise,'* 
 and when she knew that Effie's absence would give him the 
 most serious displeasure. These apprehensions hung heavier 
 upon her mind because, for several preceding evenings, Effie 
 had disappeared about the same time, and her stay, at first so 
 brief as scarce to be noticed, had been gradually protracted to 
 half an hour, and an hour, and on the present occasion had 
 considerably exceeded even this last limit. And now Jeanie 
 stood at the door, with her hand before her eyes to avoid the 
 rays of the level sun, and looked alternately along the various 
 tracks which led towards their dwelling, to see if she could 
 descry the nymph-like form of her sister. There was a wall 
 and a stile which separated the royal domain, or King's Park, 
 as it is called, from the public road ; to this pass she fre- 
 quently directed her attention, when she saw two persons ap- 
 pear there somewhat suddenly, as if they had walked close by 
 the side of the wall to screen themselves from observation. 
 One of them, a man, drew back hastily ; the other, a female, 
 crossed the stile and advanced towards her. It was Effie. 
 She met her sister with that affected liveliness of manner 
 which, in her rank, and sometimes in those above it, females 
 occasionally assume to hide surprise or confusion ; and she 
 carolled as she came — 
 
 " The elfin knight sate on the brae, 
 
 The broom grows bonny, the broom grows fair ; 
 And by there came lilting a lady so gay, 
 And we daurna gang down to the broom nae mair." 
 
 "Whisht, Effie," said her sister; *' our father's coming 
 
93 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 out o' the byre/' The damsel stinted in her song. " Whare 
 hae ye been sae late at e'en ? " 
 
 "It's no lute, lass," answered Effie. 
 
 '* It's chappit eight on every clock o' the town, and the 
 sun's gaun down ahint the Corstorphine Hills. Whare can 
 ye hae been sae late ?" 
 
 "Nae gate," answered Effie. 
 
 " And wha was that parted wi' you at the stile ?" 
 
 " Naebody/^ replied Effie once more. 
 
 " Nae gate ! Naebody ! I wish it may be a right gate^ 
 and a right body, that keeps folk out sae late at e'en, 
 Effie." 
 
 " What needs ye be aye speering, then, at folk ?" retorted 
 Effie. "I'm sure, if ye'll ask nae questions, I'll tell ye nae 
 lees. I never ask what brings the Laird of Dumbiedikes 
 glowering here like a wull-cat — only his een's greener, and 
 no sae gleg — day after day, till we are a' like to gaunt our 
 chafts aff." 
 
 " Because ye ken very weel he comes to see our father," 
 said Jeanie, in answer to this pert remark. 
 
 "And Dominie Butler — does he come to see our father, 
 that's sae taen wi' his Latin words ? " said Effie, delighted to 
 find tliat, by carrying the war into the enemy's country, she 
 could divert the threatened attack upon herself, and with the 
 petulance of youth she pursued her triumph over her prudent 
 elder sister. She looked at her with a sly air, in which there 
 was something like irony, as she chanted, in a low but marked 
 tone, a scrap of an old Scotch song — 
 
 " Through the kirkyard 
 I met wi' the Laird ; 
 
 The silly puir body he said me nae harm. 
 But just ere 'twas dark, 
 I met wi the clerk — " 
 
 Here the songstress stopped, looked full at her sister, and, 
 observing the tear gather in her eyes, she suddenly flung her 
 arms round her neck and kissed them away. Jeanie, tliough 
 hurt and displeased, was unable to resist the caresses of this 
 untaught child of nature, whose good and evil seemed to flow 
 rather from impulse than from reflection. But as she returned 
 the sisterly kiss, in token of perfect reconciliation, she could 
 not suppress the gentle reproof — "Effie, if ye will learn fule 
 sangs, ye might make a kinder use of them." 
 
 "And so I might, Jeanie," continued the girl, clinging to 
 her sister's neck ; ' ' and I wish I had never learned ane 0"" them. 
 
THE HEART OE MIDLOTHIAN 93 
 
 and I wish we had never come here, and I wish my tongue 
 had been blistered or I had vexed ye." 
 
 " Never mind that, Effie," replied the affectionate sister. 
 ''I canna be mnckle vexed wi' onything ye say to me ; but 
 dinna vex our father ! " 
 
 "I will not — I will not," replied Effie ; " and if there were 
 as mony dances the morn's night as there are merry dancers 
 in the north firmament on a frosty e'en, I winna budge an inch 
 to gang near ane o' them." 
 
 ''Dance!" echoed Jeanie Deans in astonishment. "0, 
 Effie, what could take ye to a dance ? " 
 
 It is very possible that, in the comlnunicative mood into 
 which the Lily of St. Leonard's was noAv surprised, she might 
 have given her sister her unreserved confidence, and saved me 
 the pain of telling a melancholy tale ; but at the moment the 
 word "dance" was uttered, it reached the ear of old David 
 Deans, who had turned the corner of the house, and came upon 
 his daughters ere they were aware of his presence. The word 
 ''prelate," or even the word "pope," could hardly have pro- 
 duced so appalling an effect upon David's ear ; for, of all ex- 
 ercises, that of dancing, which he termed a voluntary and regu- 
 lar fit of distraction, he deemed most destructive of serious 
 thoughts, and the readiest inlet to all sort of licentiousness ; 
 and he accounted the encouraging, and even permitting, as- 
 semblies or meetings, whether among those of high or low de- 
 gree, for this fantastic and absurd purpose, or for that of 
 dramatic representations, as one of the most flagrant proofs 
 of defection and causes of wrath. The pronouncing of the 
 word "dance " by his own daughters, and at his own door, now 
 drove him beyond the verge of patience. " Dance ! " he ex- 
 claimed. " Dance — dance, said ye ? I daur ye, limmersthat 
 ye are, to name sic a word at my door-cheek ! It's a dissolute 
 profane pastime, practised by the Israelites only at their base 
 and brutal worship of the Golden Calf at Bethel, and by the 
 unhappy lass wha danced aff ^he head of John the Baptist, 
 upon whilk chapter I will exercise this night for your farther 
 instruction, since ye need it sae muckle, nothing doubting 
 that she has cause to rue the day, lang or this time, that e'er 
 she suld hae shook a limb on sic an errand. Better for her to 
 hae been born a cripple, and carried f rae door to door, like auld 
 Bessie Bowie, begging bawbees, than to be a king's daughter, 
 fiddling and flinging the gate she did. I hae often Avondered 
 that ony ane that ever bent a knee for the right purpose should 
 ever daur to crook a hough to fyke and fling at piper's wind 
 and fiddler's squealing. And I bless God, with that singular 
 
94 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 worthy, Peter [Patrick] "Walker,* the packman, at BristoPort,, 
 that ordered my lot in my dancing days so that fear of my head 
 and throat, dread of bloody rope and swift bnllet, and trenchant 
 swords and pain of boots and thumkins, canld and hunger, 
 wetness and weariness, stopped the lightness of my head and 
 the wantonness of my feet. And now, if I hear ye, quean 
 lassies, sae muckle as name dancing, or think there's sic a 
 thing in this warld as flinging to fiddler's sounds and piper's 
 springs, as sure as my father's spirit is with the just, ye shall 
 be no more either charge or concern of mine ! Gang in, then 
 — gang in, then, hinnies," he added, in a softer tone, for the 
 tears of both daughters, but especially those of Effie, began to 
 flow very fast — " g'^T^g iii? dears, and we'll seek grace to pre- 
 serve us frae all manner of profane folly, whilk causeth to sin, 
 and promoteth the kingdom of darkness, warring with the 
 kingdom of light." 
 
 The objurgation of David Deans, however well meant, was 
 unhappily timed. It created a division of feelings in Effie's 
 bosom, and deterred her from her intended confidence in her 
 sister. " She wad haud me nae better than the dirt below her 
 feet," said Effie to herself, " were I to confess I hae danced 
 •wi' him four times on the green down-bye, and ance at Maggie 
 Macqueen's ; and she'll maybe hing it ower my head that she'll 
 tell my father, and then she wad be mistress and mair. But 
 I'll no gang back there again. I'm resolved I'll no gang back. 
 I'll lay in a leaf of my Bible, f and that's very near as if I had 
 made an aitli, that I winna gang back." And she kept her 
 vow for a week, during which she was unusually cross and fret- 
 ful, blemishes which had never before been observed in her 
 temper, except during a moment of contradiction. 
 
 There was something in all this so mysterious as consider- 
 ably to alarm the prudent and affectionate Jeanie, the more 
 so as she judged it unkind to her sister to mention to their 
 father grounds of anxiety which might arise from her own 
 imagination. Besides, her respect for the good old man did 
 not prevent her from being aware that he was both hot-tem- 
 pered and positive, and she sometimes suspected that he carried 
 his dislike to youthful amusements beyond the verge that re- 
 ligion and reason demanded. Jeanie had sense enough to 
 see that a sudden and severe curb upon her sister's hitherto 
 unrestrained freedom might be rather productive of harm than 
 good, and that Effie, in the headstrong wilfulness of youth, 
 
 * See Patrick Walker. Note 16. 
 
 t This custom, of making a mark by folding a leaf in the party's Bible when a 
 solemn resolution is formed, is still held to be, in some sense, an appeal to Heaven 
 for his or her sincerity. 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 95 
 
 was likely to make what might be overstrained in her father's 
 precepts an excuse to herself for neglecting them altogether. 
 In the higher classes a damsel, however giddy, is still under 
 the dominion of etiquette, and subject to the surveillance of 
 mammas and chaperons ; but the country girl, wdio snatches 
 her moment of gayety during the intervals of labor, is under 
 no such guardianship or restraint, and her amusement becomes 
 so much the more hazardous. Jeanie saw^ all this wdth much 
 distress of mind, w^hen a circumstance occurred Avhich appeared 
 calculated to relieve her anxiety. 
 
 Mrs. Saddletree, with whom our readers have already been 
 made acquainted, chanced to be a distant relation of Douce 
 David Deans, and as she was a woman orderly in her life and 
 conversation, and, moreover, of good substance, a sort of ac- 
 quaintance was formally kept up between the families. Now 
 this careful dame, about a year and a half before our story 
 commences, chanced to need, in the line of her profession, a 
 better sort of servant, or rather shop-woman. "Mr. Saddle- 
 tree," she said, " was never in the shop when he could get his 
 nose within the Parliament House, and it was an awkward 
 thing for a woman-body to be standing among bundles o' bark- 
 ened leather her lane, selling saddles and bridles ; and she had 
 cast her eyes upon her far-awa' cousin, EflBe Deans, as just the 
 very sort of lassie she would want to keep her in countenance 
 on such occasions." 
 
 In this proposal there was much that pleased old David : 
 there was bed, board, and bountith ; it was a decent situa- 
 tion ; the lassie would be under Mrs. Saddletree's eye, who 
 had an upright walk, and lived close by the Tolbooth Kirk, 
 in which might still be heard the comforting doctrines of one 
 of those few ministers of the Kirk of Scotland who had not 
 bent the knee unto Baal, according to David's expression, or 
 become accessory to the course of national defections — union, 
 toleration, jDatronages, and a bundle of prelatical Erastian 
 oaths which had been imposed on the church siuce the Revo- 
 lution, and particularly in the reign of '*' the late woman," as 
 he called Queen Anne, the last of that unhappy race of 
 Stuarts. In the good man's secui'ity concerning the sound- 
 ness of the theological doctrine which his daughter was to 
 hear, he was nothing disturbed on account of the snares of a 
 different kind to which a creature so beautiful, young, and 
 wilful might be exposed in the centre of a populous and cor- 
 rupted city. The fact is, that he thought with so much horror 
 on all approaches to irregularities of the nature most to be 
 dreaded in such cases, that he would as soon have suspected 
 
96 WAVE RLE y NOVELS 
 
 and guarded against Effie's being induced to become guilty 
 of the crime of murder. He only regretted that she should 
 live under the same roof Avith such a worldly-wise man as 
 Bartoline Saddletree, whom David never suspected of being 
 an ass as he was, but considered as one really endowed with 
 all the legal knowledge to which he made pretension, and 
 only liked him the worse for possessing it. The lawyers, es- 
 pecially those among them who sat as ruling elders in the 
 Greneral Assembly of the Kirk, had been forward in promot- 
 ing the measures of patronage, of the abjuration oath, and 
 others, which in the opinion of David Deans were a breaking 
 down of the carved work of the sanctuary, and an intrusion 
 upon the liberties of the kirk. Upon the dangers of listen- 
 ing to the doctrines of a legalized formalist, such as Saddle- 
 tree, David gave his daughter many lectures ; so much so, 
 that he had time to touch but slightly on the dangers of 
 cha'ubering, company-keeping, and promiscuous dancing, to 
 which, at her time of life, most people would have thought 
 Effie more exposed than to the risk of theoretical error in 
 her religious faith. 
 
 Jeanie parted from her sister with a mixed feeling of re- 
 gret, and apprehension, and hope. She could not be so con- 
 fident concerning Effie's prudence as her father, for she had 
 observed her more narrowly, had more sympathy with her 
 feelings, and could better estimate the temptations to which 
 she was exposed. On the other hand, Mrs. Saddletree was an 
 observing, shrewd, notable woman, entitled to exercise over 
 Effie the full authority of a mistress, and likely to do so 
 strictly, yet with kindness. Her removal to Saddletree's, it 
 was most probable, would also serve to break off some idle 
 acquaintances which Jeanie suspected her sister to have 
 formed in the neighboring suburb. Upon the whole, then, 
 she viewed her departure from St. Leonard's with pleasure, 
 aud it was not until the very moment of their parting for the 
 first time in their lives, that she felt the full force of sisterly 
 sorrow. While chey repeatedly kissed each other's cheeks and 
 wrung each other's hands, Jeanie took that moment of 
 affectionate sympathy to press upon her sister the necessity of 
 the utmost caution in her conduct while residing in Edin- 
 burgh. Effie listened, without once raising her large dark 
 eyelashes, from which the drops fell so fast as almost to re- 
 semble a fountain. At the conclusion she sobbed again, 
 kissed her sister, promised to recollect all the good counsel she 
 had given her, and they parted. 
 
 During the first few weeks, Effie was all th^'"^ her kins- 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 91 
 
 woman expected, and even more. But with time there came 
 a relaxation of that early zeal which she inaiiil'ested in Mrs. 
 Saddletree's service. To borrow once again from the poet 
 who so correctly and beautifully describes living manners — 
 
 Something there was, — what, none pi'esumed to say, — 
 Clouds lightly passing on a summer's day ; 
 Whispers and hints, which went from ear to ear. 
 And mix'd reports no judge on earth could clear. 
 
 During this interval, Mrs. Saddletree was sometimes dis- 
 pleased by Effie's lingering when she was sent upon errands 
 about the shop business, and sometimes by a little degree of 
 impatience which she manifested at being rebuked on such 
 occasions. But she good-naturedly allowed that the first 
 was very natural to a girl to whom everything in Edinburgh 
 was new, and the other was only the petulance of a spoiled 
 child when subjected to the yoke of domestic discipline for 
 the first time. Attention and submission could not be 
 learned at once ; Holy-Rood was not built in a day ; use 
 would make perfect. 
 
 It seemed as if the considerate old lady had presaged truly. 
 Ere many months had passed, Effie became almost wedded 
 to her duties, though she no longer discharged them with 
 the laughing cheek and light step which at first had at- 
 tracted every customer. Her mistress sometimes observed 
 her in tears ; but they were signs of secret sorrow, which 
 she concealed as often as she saw them attract notice. Time 
 wore on, her cheek grew pale, and her step heavy. The 
 cause of these changes could not have escaped the matronly 
 eye of Mrs. Saddletree, but she was chiefly confined by in- 
 disposition to her bedroom for a considerable time during 
 the latter part of Effie's service. This interval was marked 
 by symptoms of anguish almost amounting to despair. The 
 utmost efforts of the poor girl to command her fits of hys- 
 terical agony were often totally unavailing, and the mistakes 
 which she made in the shop the while were so numerous 
 and so provoking, that Bartoline Saddletree, who, during 
 his wife's illness, was obliged to take closer charge of the 
 business than consisted with his study of the weightier 
 matters of the law, lost all patience with the girl, who, in 
 his law Latin, and v/ithout much respect to gender, he 
 declared ought to be cognosced by inquest of a jury, as 
 fatuus, furiosus, and naturaliter idiota. Neighbors, also, 
 and fellow-servants, remarked, with malicious curiosity or 
 degrading pity, the disfigured shape, loose dress, and pale 
 cheeks of the once beautiful and still interesting girl. But 
 
98 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 to no one would she grant her confidence, answering all 
 taunts with bitter sarcasm, and all serious expostulation 
 with sullen denial, or with floods of tears. 
 
 At length, when Mrs. Saddletree's recovery was likely to 
 
 germit her wonted attention to the regulation of her house- 
 old, Effie Deans, as if unwilling to face an investigation 
 made by the authority of her mistress, asked permission of 
 Bartoline to go home for a week or two, assigning indisposi- 
 tion, and the wish of trying the benefit of repose and the 
 change of air, as the motives of her request. Sharp-eyed aa 
 a lynx, or conceiving himself to be so, in the nice sharp 
 quillets of legal discussion, Bartoline was as dull at drawing 
 inferences from the occurrences of common life as any Dutch 
 professor of mathematics. He suffered Effie to depart 
 without much suspicion, and without any inquiry. 
 
 It was afterwards found that a period of a week inter- 
 vened betwixt her leaving her master's house and arriving 
 at St. Leonard's. She made her appearance before her 
 sister in a state rather resembling the specter than the living 
 substance of the gay and beautiful girl who had left her 
 father's cottage for the first time scarce seventeen months 
 before. The lingering illness of her mistress had, for the 
 last few months given her a plea for confining herself en- 
 tirely to the dusky precincts of the shop in the Lawnniarket, 
 and Jeanie was so much occupied, during the same period, 
 with the concerns of her father's household, that she had 
 rarely found leisure for a walk into the city, and a brief and 
 hurried visit to her sister. The young women, therefore, 
 had scarcely seen each other for several months, nor had a 
 single scandalous surmize reached the ears of the secluded 
 inhabitants of the cottage at St, Leonard's. Jeanie, there- 
 fore, terrified to death at her sister's appearance, at first 
 overwhelmed her with inquiries, to which the unfortunate 
 young woman returned for a time incoherent and rambling 
 answers, and finally fell into a hysterical fit. Eendered too 
 certain of her sister's misfortune, Jeanie had now the dread 
 ful alternative of communicating her ruin to her father or 
 of endeavoring to conceal it from him. To all questions 
 concerning the name or rank of her seducer, and the fate 
 of the being to whom her fall had given birth, Effie remained 
 mute as the grave, to which she seemed hastening ; and 
 indeed the least allusion to either seemed to drive her to 
 distraction. Her sister, in distress and in despair, was about 
 to repair to Mrs. Saddletree to consult her experience, and 
 at the same time to obtain what lights she could upon this 
 wioit unhappy affair, when she was saved that trouble by « 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 90 
 
 aew stroke of fate, which seemed to carry misfortune to the 
 uttermost. 
 
 David Deans had been ahirmed at the state of health in 
 which his daughter had returned to her paternal residence ; 
 but Jeanie had contrived to divert him from particular and 
 specific inquiry. It was, therefore, like a clap of thunder 
 to the poor old man when, just as the hour of noon had 
 brought the visit of the Laird of Dumbiedikes as usual, 
 other and sterner, as well as most unexpected, guests arrived 
 at the cottage of St. Leonard's. These were the officers of 
 justice, with a warrant of justiciary to search for and ap- 
 prehend Euphemia or Effie Deans, accused of the crime of 
 child-murder. The stunning weight of a blow so totally 
 unexpected bore down the old man, Avho had in his early 
 youth resisted the brow of military and civil tyranny, though 
 backed with swords and guns, tortures and gibbets. He 
 fell extended and senseless upon his own hearth ; and the 
 men, happy to escape from the scene of his awakening, 
 raised, with rude humanit}', the object of their warrant from 
 her bed, and placed her in a coach, which they had brought 
 with them. The hasty remedies which Jeanie had applied 
 to bring back her father's senses were scarce begun to 
 operate when the noise of the wheels in motion recalled her 
 attention to her miserable sister. To run shrieking after 
 the carriage was the first vain effort of her distraction, but 
 she was stopped by one or two female neighbors, assembled 
 by the extraordinary appearance of a coach in that sequestered 
 place, who almost forced her back to her father's house. 
 The deep and sympathetic affliction of these poor people, by 
 whom the little family at St. Leonard's were held in high 
 regard, filled the house with lamentation. Even Dum- 
 biedikes was moved from his wonted apathy, and, groping 
 for his purse as he spoke, ejaculated, " Jeanie, woman ! — 
 Jeanie, woman ! dinna greet. It's sad wark ; but siller will 
 help it," and he drew out his purse as he spoke. 
 
 The old man had now raised himself from the ground, and, 
 looking about him as if he missed something, seemed gradu- 
 ally to recover the sense of his wretchedness. " Where," 
 he said, with a voice that made the roof ring — " where is 
 the vile harlot that has disgraced the blood of an honest 
 man ? Where is she that has no place among us, but has 
 come foul with her sins, like the Evil One, among the 
 children of God ? Where is she, Jeanie ? Bring her before 
 me, that I may kill her with a word and a look ! " 
 
 All hastened around him with their appropriate sources of 
 consolation — the Laird with his purse, Jeanie with burned 
 
100 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 feathers and strong waters, and the women with their exhor- 
 tations. " neighbor — Mr. Deans, it's a sair trial, doubt- 
 less ; but think of the Rock of Ages, neighbor, think of the 
 promise ! " 
 
 " And I do think of it, neighbors, and I bless God that I 
 can think of it, even in the wrack and ruin of a' that's near- 
 est and dearest to me. But to be the father of a castaway, a 
 profligate, a bloody Zipporah, a mere murderess ! 0, how 
 will the wicked exult in the high places of their wickedness ! 
 — the prelatists, and tlie latitudinarians, and the hand-waled 
 murderers, whose hands are hard as horn wi' handing the 
 slaughter-weapons ; they will push out the lip, and say that 
 we are even such as themselves. Sair, sair I am grieved, 
 neighbors, for the poor castaway, for the child of mine old 
 age ; but sairer for the stumbling-block and scandal it will be 
 to all tender and honest souls ! " 
 
 "Davie, winna siller do't?" insinuated the Laird, still 
 proffering his green purse, which was full of guineas. 
 
 " I tell ye, Dumbiedikes." said Deans, '*' that if telling 
 down my haill substance could hae saved her frae this black 
 snare, I wad hae walked out wi' naething but my bonnet 
 and my staff to beg an awmous for God's sake, and ca'd my- 
 sell an happy man. But if a dollar, or a plack, or the nine- 
 teenth part of a boddle wad save her open guilt and open 
 shame frae open punishment, that purchase wad David Deans 
 never make. Na, na ; an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, 
 life for life, blood for blood : it's the law of man, and it's the 
 law of God. Leave me, sirs — leave me ; I maun warstle wi' 
 this trial in privacy and on my knees. " 
 
 Jeanie, now in some degree restored to the power of 
 thought, joined in the same request. The next day found the 
 father and daughter still in the depth of affliction, but the 
 father sternly supporting his load of ill througli a proud sense 
 of religious duty, and the daughter anxiously suppressing her 
 own feelings to avoid again awakening his. Thus was it with 
 the afflicted family until the morning after Porteous's deaths 
 a period at which we are now arrived. 
 
CHAPTER XI 
 
 Is all the counsel that we two have shared, 
 The sisters' vows, the hours that we have spent 
 When we have chid tiie hasty-footed time 
 For parting vis — Oh I and is all forgot ? 
 
 Midsuinmcr Niyhfs Dream. 
 
 We have been a long while in conducting Butler to the door 
 of the cottage at St. Leonard's ; yet the space which we have 
 occupied in the preceding narrative does not exceed in length 
 that which he actuall}' s])ent on Salisbury Crags on the morn- 
 ing which succeeded the execution done upon Porteousby the 
 rioters. For this delay he had his own motives. He wished 
 to collect his thoughts, strangely agitated as they w^ere, first 
 by the melancholy news of Effie Deans's situation, and after- 
 wards by the frightful scene which he had witnessed. In the 
 situation also in w^hich he stood with respect to Jeanie and her 
 father, some ceremony, at least some choice of fitting time 
 and season, was necessary to wait upon them. Eight in the 
 morning was then the ordinary hour for breakfast, and he re- 
 solved that it should arrive before he made his appearance in 
 their cottage. 
 
 Never did hours pass so heavily. Butler shifted his place 
 and enlarged his circle to while away the time, and heard the 
 huge bell of St. Giles's toll each successive hour in swelling 
 tones, which were instantly attested by those of the other 
 steeples in succession. He had heard seven struck in this 
 manner, when he began to think he might venture to approach 
 nearer to St. Leonard's, from which he was still a mile dis- 
 tant. Accordingly he descended from his lofty station as low 
 as the bottom of the valley which divides Salisbury Crags 
 from those small rocks which take their name from St. 
 Leonard. It is, as many of my readers may know, a deep, 
 wild, grassy valley, scattered with huge rocks and fragments 
 which have descended from the cliffs and steep ascent to the 
 east. 
 
 This sequestered dell, as well as other places of the open 
 pasturage of the King^s Park, was, about this time, often the 
 
 101 
 
102 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 resort of the gallants of the time who had affairs of honor to 
 discuss with the sword. Duels were then very common in 
 Scotland, for the gentry were at once idle, haughty, fierce, 
 divided by faction, and addicted to intemperance, so that there 
 lacked neither provocation nor inclination to resent it when 
 given ; and the sword, which was part of every gentleman's 
 dress, was the only weapon used for the decision of such dif- 
 ferences. When, therefore, Butler observed a young man 
 skulking, apparently to avoid observation, among the scattered 
 rocks at some distance from the footpath, he was naturally led 
 to suppose that he had sought this lonely spot upon that evil 
 errand. He was so strongly impressed with this that, not- 
 withstanding his own distress of mind, he could not, according 
 to his sense of duty as a clergyman, pass this person without 
 speaking to him. " There are times,'' thought he to himself, 
 " when the slightest interference may avert a great calamity — 
 when a word spoken in season may do more for prevention than 
 the eloquence of Tully could do for remedying evil. And for 
 my own griefs, be they as they may, I shall feel them the 
 lighter if they divert me not from the prosecution of my 
 
 duty." 
 
 Thus thinking and feeling, he quitted the ordinary path 
 and advanced nearer the object he had noticed. The man 
 at first directed his course towards the hill, in order, as it ap- 
 peared, to avoid him ; but when he saw that Butler seemed dis- 
 posed to follow him, he adjusted his hat fiercely, turned round 
 and came forward, as if to meet and defy scrutiny. 
 
 Butler had an opportunity of accurately studying his 
 features as they advanced slowly to meet each other. The 
 stranger seemed about twenty-five years old. His dress was of a 
 kind which could hardly be said to indicate his rank with cer- 
 tainty, for it was such as young gentlemen sometimes wore 
 while on active exercise in the morning, and which, therefore, 
 was imitated by those of the inferior ranks, as young clerks 
 and tradesmen, because its cheapness rendered it attainable, 
 while it approached more nearly to the apparel of youths of 
 fashion than any other which the manners of the times per- 
 mitted them to wear. If his air and manner could be trusted, 
 however, this person seemed rather to be dressed under than 
 above his rank ; for his carriage was bold and somewhat su- 
 percilious, his step easy and free, his manner daring and un- 
 constrained. His stature was of the middle size, or rather 
 above it, his limbs well-proportioned, yet not so strong as to 
 infer the reproach of clumsiness. His features were uncom- 
 monly handsome, and all about him would have been interest- 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN lOS 
 
 ing and prepossessing, but for tliat indescribable expression 
 which habitual dissipation gives to the countenance, joined 
 with a certain audacity in look and manner, of that kind which 
 is often assumed as a mask for confusion and apprehension. 
 
 Butler and the stranger met, surveyed each other ; when, 
 as the latter, slightly touching his hat, was about to pass by 
 him, Butler, while he returned tlie salutation, observed, "A 
 fine morning, sir. You are on the hill early.''' 
 
 "I have business here," said the young man, in atone 
 meant to repress further inquiry. 
 
 " I do not doubt it, sir," said Butler. " I trust you will 
 forgive my hoping that it is of a lawful kind ? " 
 
 "■ Sir," said the other with marked surprise, " I never 
 forgive impertinence, nor can I conceive what title you have 
 to hope anything about what no way concerns you." 
 
 " I am a soldier, sir," said Butler, " and have a charge to 
 arrest evil-doers in the name of my Master." 
 
 ' ' A soldier ! " said the young man, stepping back and 
 fiercely laying his hand on his sword — " a soldier, and arrest 
 me ? Did you reckon what your life was worth before you 
 took the commission upon you ?" 
 
 "^ You mistake me, sir," said Butler, gravely ; ''neither 
 my warfare nor my warrant are of this world. I am a preacher 
 of the Gospel, and have power, in my Master's name, to 
 command the peace upon earth and good-will towards men 
 which was proclaimed with the Gospel." 
 
 " A minister ! " said the stranger, carelessly, and with an 
 expression approaching to scorn. " I know the gentlemen 
 of your cloth in Scotland claim a strange right of intermed- 
 dling with men's private affairs. But I have been abroad, 
 and know better than to be priest-ridden." 
 
 " Sir, if it be true that any of my cloth, or, it might be 
 more decently said, of my calling, interfere with men's pri- 
 vate affairs, for the gratification either of idle curiosity or for 
 worse motives, you cannot have learned a better lesson abroad 
 than to contemn such practices. But, in my Masters work, 
 I am called to be busy in season and out of season ; and, con- 
 scious as I am of a pure motive, it were better for me to in- 
 cur your contempt for sjaeaking than the correction of my 
 own conscience for being silent." 
 
 "In the name of the devil !" said the young man, impa- 
 tiently, ''say what you have to say, then; though whom you 
 take me for, or what earthly concern you can have with me, 
 a stranger to you, or with my actions and motives, of which 
 you can know nothing, I cannot conjecture for an instant." 
 
104 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 "Yon are about/^ said Butler, 'Ho violate one of your 
 cour.cr}''^ wisest laws, you are about — which is much more 
 dreadful — to violate a law which God Himself has implanted 
 within our nature, and written, as it were, in the table of our 
 hearts, to which every thrill of our nerves is responsive." 
 
 "'And what is the law you speak of ?" said the stranger, 
 in a hollow and somewhat disturbed accent. 
 
 "Thou shalt do no murder," said Butler, with a deep and 
 solemn voice. 
 
 The young man visibly started, and looked considerably 
 appalled. Butler perceived he had made a favorable impres- 
 sion, and resolved to follow it up. ' ' Think," he said, "young 
 man," laying his hand kindly upon the stranger's slioulder, 
 " what an awful alternative you voluntarily choose for yourself, 
 to kill or be killed. Think what it is to rush uncalled into 
 the presence of an offended Deity, your heart fermenting with 
 evil passions, your hand hot from the steel you had been 
 urging, with your best skill and malice, against the breast of 
 a fellow-creature. Or, suppose yourself the scarce less wretched 
 survivor, with the guilt of Cain, the first murderer, in your 
 heart, with his stamp upon your brow — that stamp, which 
 struck all who gazed on him with unutterable horror, and by 
 which the murderer is made manifest to all who look upon 
 him. Think " 
 
 The stranger gradually withdrew himself from under the 
 hand of his monitor ; and, pulling his hat over his brows, thus 
 interrupted him. " Your meaning, sir, I dare say, is excellent, 
 but you are throwing your advice away. I am not in this place 
 with violent intentions against any one. I may be bad enough 
 — you priests say all men are so — but I am here for the purpose 
 of saving life, not of taking it away. If you wish to spend 
 your time rather in doing a good action than in talking about 
 you know not what, I will give you an opportunity. Do you 
 see yonder crag to the right, over which appears the chimney 
 of a lone house ? Go thither, inquire for one Jeanie Deans, 
 the daughter of the goodman ; let lier know that he she wots 
 of remained here from daybreak till this hour, expecting to 
 see her, and that he can abide no longer. Tell her she must 
 meet me at the Hunter's Bog to-night, as the moon rises be- 
 hind St. Anthony's Hill, or that she will make a desperate 
 man of me." 
 
 " Who or what are you,'' replied Butler, exceedingly and 
 most unpleasantly surprised, "who charge me with such an 
 errand ? " 
 
 **I am the devil ! " answered the young man, hastily. 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 105 
 
 Butler stepped instinctively back and commended himself 
 internally to Heaven ; for, though a wise and strong-minded 
 man, he was neither wiser nor more strong-minded than those 
 of his age and education, with whom to disbelieve witchcraft 
 or spectres was held an undeniable proof of atheism. 
 
 The stranger went on without observing his emotion. 
 ''Yes! call me Apollyon, Abaddon, whatever name you 
 shall choose, as a clergyman acquainted with the upper and 
 lower circles of spiritual denomination, to call me by, you 
 shall not find an appellation more odious to him that bears it 
 than is mine own.'' 
 
 This sentence was spoken with the bitterness of self-up- 
 braiding, and a contortion of visage absolutely demoniacal. 
 Butler, though a man brave by principle, if not by constitu- 
 tion, Avas overawed ; for intensity of mental distress has in it 
 a sort of sublimity which repels and overawes all men, but 
 especially thoae of kind and sympathetic dispositions. The 
 stranger turned abruptly from Butler as he spoke, but in- 
 stantly returned, and, coming up to him closely and boldly, 
 said, in a fierce, determined tone, " I have told you who 
 and what I am ; who and what are you ? What is your 
 name ?'' 
 
 "Butler," answered the person to whom this abrupt ques- 
 tion was addressed, surprised into answering it by the sud- 
 den and fierce manner of the querist — ''Reuben Butler, a 
 preacher of the Gospel." 
 
 At this answer, the stranger again plucked more deep 
 over his brows the hat which he had thrown back in his 
 former agitation. " Butler \" he repeated; " the assistant of 
 the schoolmaster at Liberton ? " 
 
 " The same," answered Butler, composedly. 
 
 Tlie stranger covered his face with his hand, as if on sud- 
 den reflection, and then turned away ; but stopped when he 
 had walked a few paces, and seeing Butler follow him with 
 his eyes, called out in a stern yet suppressed tone, just as if 
 he had exactly calculated that his accents should not be heard 
 a yard beyond the spot on which Butler stood. "Go your 
 way and do mine errand. Do not look after me. I will 
 neither descend through the bowels of these rocks, nor vanish 
 in a flash of fire ; and yet the eye that seeks to trace my 
 motions shall have reason to curse it was ever shrouded by 
 eyelid or eyelash. Begone, and look not behind you. Tell 
 Jeanie Deans that when the moon rises I shall expect to meet 
 her at Kicol Muschat's Cairn, beneath St. Anthony's Chapel." 
 
 As he uttered these words, he turned and took the road 
 
106 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 against the hill, with a haste that seemed as peremptory as 
 his toae of authority. 
 
 Dreading he knew not what of additional misery to a lot 
 which seemed little capable of receiving augmentation, and 
 desperate at the idea tliat any living man should dare to send 
 so extraordinary a request, couched in terms so imperious, to 
 the half-betrothed object of his early and only affection, 
 Butler strode hastily towards the cottage, in order to ascer- 
 tain how far this daring and rude gallant was actually entitled 
 to press on Jeanie Deans a request which no prudent, and 
 scarce any modest, young woman was likely to comply with. 
 
 Butler was by nature neither jealous nor superstitious ; 
 yet the feelings which lead to those moods of the mind were 
 rooted in his heart, as a portion derived from the common 
 stock of humanity. It was maddening to think that a prof- 
 ligate gallant, such as the manner and tone of the stranger 
 evinced him to be, should have it in his power to command 
 forth his future bride and plighted true-love, at a place so 
 improper and an hour so unseasonable. Yet the tone in which 
 the stranger spoke had nothing of the soft, half-breathed 
 voice proper to the seducer who solicits an assignation ; it was 
 bold, iierce, and imperative, and had less of love in it than of 
 menace and intimidation. 
 
 The suggestions of superstition seemed more plausible, had 
 Butler's mind been very accessible to them. Was this indeed 
 the Roaring Lion, who goeth about seeking whom he may 
 devour ? This was a question which pressed itself on Butler's 
 mind with an earnestness that cannot be conceived by those 
 who live in the present day. The fiery eye, the abrupt de- 
 meanor, the occasionally harsh, yet studiously subdued, tone 
 of voice ; the features, handsome, but now clouded with pride, 
 now disturbed by suspicion, now inflamed with passion ; those 
 dark hazel eyes which he sometimes shaded with his cap, as if 
 he were averse to have them seen while they were occupied 
 with keenly observing the motions and bearing of others — those 
 eyes that were now turbid with melancholy, now gleaming with 
 scorn, and now sparkling with fury — was it the passions of a 
 mere mortal they expressed, or the emotions of a fiend, who 
 seeks, and seeks in vain, to conceal his fiendish designs under 
 the borrowed mask of manly beauty ? The whole partook of 
 the mien, language, and port of the ruined archangel ; and, 
 imperfectly as we have been able to describe it, the effect of 
 the interview upon Butler's nerves, shaken as they were at the 
 time by the horrors of the preceding night, was greater than 
 his understanding warranted, or his pride cared to submit to. 
 
TEE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN lOf 
 
 The very place where he had met this singular person was 
 desecrated, as it were, and nnhallowcd, owing to many violent 
 deatlis, both in duels and by suicide, which had in former times 
 taken place there ; and the place which he had named as a 
 rendezvous at so late an hour was held in general to be accursed, 
 from a frightful and cruel murder which had been there com- 
 mitted, by the wretch from whom the place took its name, upon 
 the person of his own wife.* It was in such places, according 
 to the belief of that period, when the laws against witchcraft 
 were still in fresh observance, and had even lately been acted 
 upon, that evil spirits had power to make themselves visible 
 to human eyes, and to practise upon the feelings and senses of 
 mankind. Suspicions, founded on such circumstances, rushed 
 on Butler's mind, unprepared as it was, by any previous course 
 of reasoning, to deny that which all of his time, country, and 
 profession believed ; but common sense rejected these vain ideas 
 as inconsistent, if not with possibility, at least with the gen- 
 eral rules by which the universe is governed — a deviation from 
 which, as Butler well argued with himself, ought not to be 
 admitted as probable upon any but the plainest and most in- 
 controvertible evidence. An earthly lover, however, or a 
 young man who, from whatever cause, had the right of exer- 
 cising such summary and unceremonious authority over the 
 object of his long-settled, and apparently sincerely returned, 
 affection, was an object scarce less appalling to his mind than 
 those which superstition suggested. 
 
 His limbs exhausted with fatigue, his mind harassed with 
 anxiety, and \\\i\\ painful doubts and recollections, Butler 
 dragged himself up the ascent from the valley to St. Leon- 
 ard's Crags and pi'esented himself at the door of Deans's hab- 
 itation, with feelings much akin to the . miserable reflections 
 and fears of its inhabitants. 
 
 * See Muschat's Cairn. Not© 17. 
 
CHAPTER XII 
 
 Then she streteh'd out her lily hand. 
 
 And for to do her best ; 
 ' Hae back thy faith and troth, Willie, 
 
 God gie thy soul good rest ! " 
 
 Old Ballad. 
 
 '* Come in/' answered the low and sweet-toned voice he loved 
 best to hear, as Butler tapped at the door of the cottage. He 
 lifted the latch, and found himself under the roof of afflictiorx. 
 Jeanie was unable to trust herself with more than one glance 
 towards her lover, whom she now met under circumstances so 
 agonizing to her feelings, and at the same time so humbling 
 to her honest pride. It is well known that much both of 
 what is good and bad in the Scottish national character arises 
 out of the intimacy of their family connections. " To be 
 come of honest folk,'' that is, of people who have borne a fair 
 and unstained reputation, is an advantage as highly prized 
 among the lower Scotch as the emphatic counterpart, ''to be 
 of a good family," is valued among their gentry. The worth 
 and respectability of one member of a peasant's family is al- 
 ways accounted by themselves and others not only a matter of 
 honest pride, but a guarantee for the good conduct of the 
 whole. On the contrary, such a melancholy stain as was now 
 flung on one of the children of Deans extended its disgrace to 
 all connected with him, and Jeanie felt herself lowered at 
 once in her own eyes and in those of her lover. It was in 
 vain that she repressed this feeling, as far subordinate and too 
 selfish to be mingled with her sorrow for her sister's calamity. 
 Nature prevailed ; and while she shed tears for her sister's 
 distress and danger, there mingled with them bitter drops of 
 griei for her own degradation. 
 
 As Butler entered, the old man was seated by the fire with 
 his well-worn pocket Bible in his hands, the companion of the 
 wanderings and dangers of his youth, and bequeathed to him 
 on the scaffold by one of those who, in the year 1686, sealed 
 their enthusiastic principles with their blood. The sun sent 
 its rays through a small window at the old man's back, and, 
 *^ shining motty through the reek," to use the expression of a 
 
 108 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN lo9 
 
 bard of that time and country, illumined the gray liairs of the 
 old man and the sacred page which he studied. His features, 
 far from handsome, and rather harsh and severe, had yet, from 
 their expression of habitual gravity and contempt for earthly 
 things, an expression of stoical dignity amid their sternness. 
 He boasted, in no small degree, the attributes which Southey 
 ascribes to the ancient Scandinavians, whom he terms " firm 
 to inflict and stubborn to endure." The whole formed a pict- 
 ure, of which the lights might have been given by Rembrandt, 
 but the outline would have required the force and vigor of 
 Michael Angelo. 
 
 Deans lifted his eye as Butler entered, and instantly with- 
 drew it, as from an object which gave him at once surprise 
 and sudden pain. He had assumed such high ground with 
 this carnal-witted scholar, as he had in his pride termed But- 
 ler, that to meet him of all men under feelings of humiliation 
 aggravated his misfortune, and was a consummation like that 
 of the dying chief in the old ballad — ''Earl Percy sees my 
 fall ! " 
 
 Deans raised the Bible with his left hand, so as partly to 
 screen his face, and putting back his right as far as he could, 
 held it towards Butler in that position, at the same time turn- 
 ing his body from him, as if to prevent his seeing the working 
 of his countenance. Butler clasped the extended hand which 
 had supported his orphan infancy, wept over it, and in vain 
 endeavored to say more than the words — " God comfort you — 
 God comfort you !" 
 
 " Ho will — He doth, my friend," said Deans, assuming 
 firmness as he discovered the agitation of his guest ; " He 
 doth now, and He will yet more, in His own gude time. I 
 have been ower proud of my sufferings in a gude cause, Reu- 
 ben, and now I am to be tried witli those wdiilk will turn my 
 pride and glory into a reproach and a hissing. How muckle 
 better I hae thought mysell than them that lay saft, fed 
 sweet, and drank deep, when I was in the moss-hags and 
 moors, wi' precious Donald [Richard] Cameron, and worthy 
 Mr. Blackadder, called Guessagain ; and how proud I was o* 
 being made a spectacle to men and angels, having stood on 
 their pillory at the Canongate afore I was fifteen years old, for 
 the cause of a National Covenant ! To tliink, Reuben, that 
 I, wha hae been sae honored and exalted in my youth, nay, 
 when I was but a hafflins callant, and that hae borne testi- 
 mony again the defections o'the times, yearly, monthly, daily, 
 hourly, minutely, striving and testifying with uplifted hand 
 and voice, crying aloud, and sparing not, against all great 
 
110 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 national snares, as the nation-wasting and chnrch-sinking 
 abomination of union, toleration, and patronage, imposed by 
 the last woman of that unhappy race of Stuarts, also against 
 the infringements and invasions of the just powers of elder- 
 ship, whereanent I uttered ray paper, called a ' Cry of an 
 Howl in the Desert,' printed at the Bow-head, and sold by 
 all flying stationers in town and country — and noio " 
 
 Here he paused. It may well be supposed that Butler, 
 though not absolutely coinciding in all the good old man's 
 ideas about church government, had too much consideration 
 and humanity to interrupt him, while he reckoned up with 
 conscious pride his sufferings, and the constancy of his testi- 
 mony. On the contrary, when he paused under the influence 
 of the bitter recollections of the moment, Butler instantly 
 threw in his mite of encouragement. 
 
 " You have been well known, my old and revered friend, 
 a true and tried follower of the Cross ; one who, as St. Jerome 
 hath it, 'per infamiam et bonam famam grassari ad immor- 
 talitatem,' which may be freely rendered, ' who rusheth on 
 to immortal life, through bad report and good report.' You 
 have been one of those to whom the tender and fearful souls 
 cry during the midnight solitude — ' Watchman, what of the 
 night? — Watchman, what of the night?' And, assuredly, 
 this heavy dispensation, as it comes not without Divine per- 
 mission, so it comes not without its special commission and 
 nse." 
 
 ^^I do receive it as such," said poor Deans, returning the 
 grasp of Butler's hand ; "and, if I have not been taught to 
 read the Scripture in any other tongue but my native Scot- 
 tish (even in his distress Butler's Latin quotation had not es- 
 caped his notice), I have, nevertheless, so learned them, that 
 I trust to bear eyeu this crook in my lot with submission. 
 But 0, Reuben Butler, the kirk, of wliilk, though unworthy. 
 I have yet been thought a polished shaft, and meet to be a 
 pillar, holding, from my youth upward, the place of ruling 
 elder — what will the lightsome and profane think of the guide 
 that cannot keep his own family from stumbling ? How will 
 they take up their song and their reproach, when they see 
 that the children of professors are liable to as foul backsliding 
 as the offspring of Belial ! But I will bear my cross with the 
 comfort that whatever showed like goodness in me or mine 
 was but like the light that shines frae creeping insects, on 
 the brae-side, in a dark night ; it kythes bright to the ee, be- 
 cause all is dark around it ; but when the morn comes on 
 the mountains, it is bat a puir crawling kail- worm after a'. 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 11) 
 
 And sae it shows wi' ony rag of human righteousness, or for- 
 mal law- work, that we may pit round us to cover onr shame." 
 
 As he pronounced these words, the door again opened, and 
 Mr. Bartoline Saddletree entered, his tliree-pointed hat set far 
 back on his head, with a silk handkerchief beneath it, to keep 
 it in that cool position, his gold-headed cane in his liand, and 
 his whole deportment that of a wealthy burgher, who might 
 one day look to have a share in the magistracy, if not actually 
 to hold the curule chair itself. 
 
 Eochefoucault, who has torn the veil from so many foul 
 gangrenes of the human heart, says, we find something not 
 altogether unpleasant to us in the misfortunes of our best 
 friends. Mr. Saddletree would have been very angry had any 
 one told him that he felt pleasure in the disaster of poor Efiie 
 Deans and the disgrace of her family ; and yet there is great 
 question whether the gratification of playing the person of 
 importance, inquiring, investigating, and laying down the law 
 on the whole affair, did not offer, to say the least, full consola- 
 tion for the pain which pure sympathy gave him on account of 
 his wife's kinswoman. He had now got a piece of real judicial 
 business by the end, instead of being obliged, as was his 
 common case, to intrude his opinion where it was neither 
 wished nor wanted ; and felt as happy in the exchange as a 
 boy when he gets his first new watch, which actually goes 
 when wound up, and has real hands and a true dial-plate. 
 But besides this subject for legal disquisition, Bartoline's brains 
 were also overloaded with the affair of Porteous, his violent 
 death, and all its probable consequences to the city and com- 
 munity. It was what the French call Vembarras des richesses, 
 the confusion arising from too much mental wealth. He 
 walked in with a consciousness of double irnportance, full 
 fraught with the su]3eriority of one who possesses more infor- 
 mation than the compan}^ into which he enters, and who feels 
 a right to discharge his learning on them without mercy. 
 " Good morning, Mr. Deans. Good-morrow to you, Mr. But- 
 ler ; I was not aware that you were acquainted with Mr. Deans." 
 
 Butler made some slight answer ; his reasons may be readily 
 imagined for not making his connection with the family, which, 
 in his eyes, had something of tender mystery, a frequent sub- 
 ject of conversation with indifferent persons, such as Saddle- 
 tree. 
 
 The worthy burgher, in the plenitude of self-importance, 
 now sat down upon a chair, wiped his brow, collected his 
 breath, and made the first experiment of the resolved pith of 
 his lungs, in a deep and dignified sigli, resembling a groan in 
 
113 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 sound and intonation — ''^Awfu' times these, neighbor Deans 
 — awf a' times ! " 
 
 '' Sinf u', shamefu^ Heaven-daring times," answered Deans, 
 in a lower and more subdued tone. 
 
 " For my part," continued Saddletree, swelling with im- 
 portance, '' what between the distress of my friends and my 
 poor auld country, ony wit that ever I had may be said to 
 have abandoned me, sae that I sometimes think myself as ig- 
 norant as if I were itifer rusticos. Here when I arise in the 
 morning, wi' my mind just arranged touching what's to be 
 done in puir Effie's misfortune, and hae gotten the haill 
 statute at my finger-ends, the mob maun get up and string 
 Jock Porteous to a dyester's beam, and ding a'thing out of my 
 head again." 
 
 Deeply as he was distressed with his own domestic calam- 
 ity, Deans could not help expressing some interest in the 
 news. Saddletree immediately entered on details of the in- 
 surrection and its consequences, while Butler took the occa- 
 sion to seek some private conversation with Jeanie Deans. 
 She gave him the opportunity he sought, by leaving the 
 room, as if in prosecution of some part of her morning labor. 
 Butler followed her in a few minutes, leaving Deans so 
 closely engaged by his busy visitor that there was little chance 
 of his observing their absence. 
 
 The scene of their interview was an outer apartment, 
 where Jeanie was used to busy herself in arranging the pro- 
 ductions of her dairy. When Butler found an opportunity 
 of stealing after her into this place, he found her silent, de- 
 jected, and ready to burst into tears. Instead of the active 
 industry with which she had been accustomed, even while in 
 the act of speaking, to employ her hands in some useful 
 branch of household business, she was seated listless in a cor- 
 ner, sinking apparently under the weight of her own thoughts. 
 Yet the instant he entered, she dried her eyes, and. with the 
 simplicity and openness of her character, immediately entered 
 on conversation. 
 
 " I am glad you have come in, Mr. Butler," said she, 
 " for — for — for I wished to tell ye, that all maun be ended 
 between you and me ; it's best for baith our sakes." 
 
 " Ended ! " said Butler, in surprise ; " and for what should 
 it be ended ? I grant this is a heavy dispensation, but it lies 
 neither at your door nor mine : it's an evil of God's sending, 
 and it must be borne ; but it cannot break plighted troth, 
 Jeanie, while they that plighted their word wish to keep it." 
 
 " But, Reuben," said the young woman, looking at aim 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN US 
 
 affectionately, " I ken weel that ye think mair of me than 
 yourself ; and, Eeuben, I can only in requital think mair of 
 your weal than of my ain. Ye are a man of spotless name, 
 -bred to God^s ministry, and a' men say that ye will some day 
 rise high in the kirk, though poverty keep ye down e'en now. 
 Poverty is a bad back-friend, Keuben. and that ye ken ower 
 weel ; but ill-fame is a waur ane. and that is a truth ye sail 
 never learn through my means." 
 
 " What do you mean ?" said Butler, eagerly and impa- 
 tiently ; " or how do you connect your sisters guilt, if guilt 
 there be, which, I trust in God, may yet be disproved, with 
 our engagement ? How can that affect you or me ? " 
 
 " How can you ask me that, Mr. Butler ? Will this stain, 
 d'ye think, ever be forgotten, as lang as our heads are abune 
 the grund ? Will it not stick to us, and to our bairns, and 
 to their very bairns' bairns ? To hae been the child of an 
 honest man might hae been saying something for me and 
 
 mine ; but to be the sister of a my God ! " With this 
 
 exclamation her resolution failed, and she burst into a pas- 
 sionate fit of tears. 
 
 The lover used every effort to induce her to compose her- 
 self, and at length succeeded ; but she only resumed her com- 
 posure to express herself with the same positiveness as before. 
 '' No, Reuben, I'll bring disgrace hame to nae man's hearth ; 
 my ain distresses I can bear, and I maun bear, but there is 
 nae occasion for buckling them on other folks' shouthers. I 
 will bear ray load alone ; the back is made for the burden." 
 
 A lover is by charter way ward and suspicious ; and Jeanie's 
 readiness to renounce their engagement, under pretence of 
 zeal for his peace of mind and respectability of character, 
 seemed to poor Butler to form a portentous combination with 
 the commission of the stranger he had met with that morn- 
 ing. His voice faltered as he asked, " Whether nothing but 
 a sense of her sister's present distress occasioned her to talk in 
 that manner ? " 
 
 " And what else can do sae ?" she replied, witli simplicity. 
 "■Js it not ten long years since we spoke togetlier in this 
 way?" 
 
 ''Ten years ?" said Butler. " It's a long time, sufficient 
 perhaps for a woman to weary " 
 
 "To weary of her auld gown," said Jeanie, "and to wish 
 for a new ane^ if she likes to be brave, but not long enough 
 to weary of a friend. The eye may wish change, but the heart 
 never." 
 
 ''Nevsr !" said Eeuben ; " that's a bold promise.' 
 
114 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 " But not more banld than true/' said Jeanie, with the 
 same quiet simplicity which attended her manner in joy and 
 grief, in ordinary affairs, and in those which most interested 
 her feelings. 
 
 Butler paused, and looking at her fixedly, "I am 
 charged," he said," with a message to you, Jeanie." 
 
 "Indeed! From whom ? Or what can ony ane have to 
 say to me ? " 
 
 " It is from a stranger," said Butler, affecting to speak with 
 an indiffereuce which his voice belied, " a young man whom I 
 met this morning in the Park." 
 
 " Mercy ! " said Jeanie, eagerly ; " and what did he say ?" 
 
 " That he did not see you at the hour he expected, but re- 
 quired you should meet him alone at Muschat's Cairn this 
 night, so soon as the moon rises." 
 
 " Tell him," said Jeanie, hastily, " I shall certainly come." 
 
 " May I ask," said Butler, his suspicions iucreasing at the 
 ready alacrity of the answer, "who this man is to whom you 
 are so willing to give the meeting at a place and hour so un- 
 common ? " 
 
 " Folk maun do muckle they have little will to do in this 
 world," replied Jeanie. 
 
 "Granted," said her lover; "but what compels you to 
 this ? Who is this person ? What I saw of him was not very 
 favorable. Who or what is he ? " 
 
 " I do not know !" replied Jeanie, composedly. 
 
 " You do not know ? " said Butler, stepping impatiently 
 through the apartment. " You purpose to meet a young man 
 whom you do not know, at such a time and in a place so 
 lonely; you say you are compelled to do this, and yet you say 
 you do not know the person who exercises such an influence 
 over you ! Jeanie, what am I to think of this ? " 
 
 " Think only, Reuben, that I speak truth, as if I were 
 to answer at the last day. I do not ken this man, I do not 
 even ken that I ever saw him ; and yet I must give him the 
 meeting he asks ; there's life and death upon it." 
 
 "Will you not tell your father, or take him with you ?" 
 said Butler. 
 
 "I cannot," said Jeanie ; "I have no permission." 
 
 "Will you let me go with you ? I will wait in the Park 
 till nightfall, and join you when you set out." 
 
 " It is impossible," said Jeanie ; " there maunna be mortal 
 creature within hearing of our conference." 
 
 "Have you considered well the nature of what you are 
 going to do ? — the time, the place, an unknown and suspicion? 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 115 
 
 character ? Why, if lie had asked to see you in this house, 
 your father sitting in the next room, and within call, at such 
 an hour, you should have refused to see him." 
 
 ''My weird maun be fulfilled, Mr. Butler. ^My life and 
 my safety are in God's hands, but I'll not S2)are to risk either 
 of them on the errand I am gaun to do."*^ 
 
 "Then, Jeanie/' said Butler, mucli displeased, ''we must 
 indeed break short off, and bid farewell. When there can be 
 no confidence betwixt a man and his plighted wife on such a 
 momentous topic, it is a sign that she has no longer the 
 regard for him that makes their engagement safe and suit- 
 able." 
 
 Jeanie looked at him and sighed. "I thought," she said, 
 "that I had brought myself to bear this parting ; but — but— 
 I did not ken that we were to part in unkindness. But I am 
 a woman and you are a man, it may be different wi' you ; if 
 your mind is made easier by thinking sae hardly of me, I 
 would not ask you to think otherwise." 
 
 "You are," said Butler, "what you have always been — 
 wiser, better, and less selfish in your native feelings than I 
 can be with all the helps philosophy can give to a Christian. 
 But why — why will you persevere in an undertaking so des- 
 perate ? Why will you not let me be your assistant, your pro- 
 tector, or at least your adviser ?" 
 
 " Just because I cannot, and I dare not," answered Jeanie. 
 " But hark, what's that ? Surely my father is no weel ? " 
 
 In fact, the voices in the next room became obstreperously 
 loud of a sudden, the cause of which vociferation it is neces- 
 sary to explain before we go further. 
 
 Wlien Jeanie and Butler retired, Mr, Saddletree entered 
 upon the business which chiefly interested tlie family. In 
 the commencement of their conversation he found old Deans, 
 who, in his usual state of mind, was no granter of propositions, 
 so much subdued by a deep sense of his daughter's danger and 
 disgrace that he heard without replying to, or perhaps with- 
 out understanding, one or two learned disquisitions on the 
 nature of the crime imputed to her charge, and on the steps 
 which ought to be taken in consequence. His only answer at 
 each pause was, " I am no misdoubting that you wuss us weel, 
 your wife's our f-ar-awa' cousin." 
 
 Encouraged by these symptoms of acquiescence. Saddle- 
 tree, who, as an amateur of the law, h;ul a suj^reme deference 
 for all constituted authorities, again recurred to his other topic 
 of interest, the murder, namely, of Porteous, and pronounced 
 a severe censure on the parties concerned. 
 
116 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 *' These are kittle times — kittle times, Mr. Deans, "when 
 the people take the power of life and death out of the hands 
 of the rightful magistrate into tiieir ain rough grip. I am of 
 opinion, and so, I believe, will Mr. Crossmyloof and the privy 
 council, that this rising in effeir of war, to take away the life 
 of a reprieved man, will prove little better than perduellion." 
 "If I hadna that on my mind whilk is ill to bear, Mr. 
 Saddletree," said Deans, " I wad make bold to dispute that 
 point wi' you." 
 
 ' ' How could ye dispute what's plain law, man ? "said Saddle- 
 tree, somewhat coatemptuously; "there's no a callant that e'er 
 carried a pock wi' a process in't but will tell you that perduel- 
 lion is the warst and maist virulent kind of treason, being an 
 open convocating of the king's lieges against his authority, 
 mair especially in arms, and by touk of drum, to baith whilk 
 accessories my een and lugs bore witness, and muckle warse 
 than lese-majesty, or the concealment of a treasonable purpose. 
 It winna bear a dispute, neighbor." 
 
 " But it will, though," retorted Douce Davie Deans ; " I tell 
 ye it will bear a dispute. I never like your cauld, legal, formal 
 doctrines, neighbor Saddletree. I baud unco little by the 
 Parliameut House, since the awfu' downfall of the hopes' of 
 honest folk that followed the Revolution." 
 
 "' But what wad ye haehad, Mr. Deans ?"said Saddletree, 
 impatiently ; '• didna ye get baith liberty and conscience made 
 fast, and settled by tailzie on you and your heirs forever ? " 
 
 " Mr. Saddletree," retorted Deans, " I ken ye are one 
 of those that are wise after the manner of this world, and 
 that ye baud your part, and cast in your portion, wi' the 
 lang-heads and lang-gowns, and keep with the smart witty- 
 pated lawyers of this our land. Weary on the dark and 
 dolef a' cast that cliey hae gien this unhappy kingdom, when 
 their black hands of defection were clasped in the red hands of 
 our sworn murtherers ; when those who had numbered the 
 towers of our Zion, and marked the bulwarks of our Reforma- 
 tion, saw their hope turn into a snare and their rejoicing into 
 weeping." 
 
 " I canna understand this, neighbor,'^ answered Saddle- 
 tree. " I am an honest Presbyterian of the Kirk of Scotland, 
 and stand by her and the General Assembly, and the due ad- 
 ministration of justice by the fifteen Lords o' Session and the 
 five Lords o' Justiciary." 
 
 " Out upon ye, Mr. Saddletree ! " exclaimed David, who. 
 in an opportunity of giving his testimony on the offences and 
 backslidinge of the land, forgot for a moment his own domes- 
 
THE HEABT OF MIDLOTHIAN 117 
 
 tic calamity — '^ont nponyonr General Assembly, and the back 
 of my hand to your Court o' Session ! What is the tane but 
 a waefu' bunch o' cauldrife professors and ministers, that sat 
 bien and warm when the persecuted remnant were warstling 
 wi' hunger, and cauld, and fear of death, and danger of fire 
 and sword, upon wet brae-sides, peat-hags, and flow-mosses, 
 and that now creep out of their holes, like bluebottle flees in 
 a blink of sunshine, to take the pu'pits and places of better 
 folk — of them that witnessed, and testified, and fought, and 
 endured pit, prison-house, and transportation beyond seas ? 
 A bonny bike there's o' them ! And for your Court o' Ses- 
 sion " 
 
 " Ye may say what ye will o' the General Assembly/' said 
 Saddletree, interrupting him, ''and let them clear them that 
 kens them ; but as for the Lords o' Session, forbye that they 
 are my next-door neighbors, I would have ye ken, for your ain 
 regulation, that to raise scandal anent them, whilk is termed, 
 to ' murmur again ' them, is a crime sui generis — sui generis, 
 Mr. Deans ; ken ye what that amounts to ? " 
 
 " I ken little o' the language of Antichrist," said Deans : 
 " and I care less than little what carnal courts may call the 
 speeches of honest men. And as to murmur again them, it's 
 what a' the folk tliat loses their pleas, and nine-tenths o' them 
 that win them, will be gay sure to be guilty in. Sae I wad 
 hae ye ken that I hand a' your gleg-tongued advocates, that 
 sell their knowledge for pieces of silver, and your worldly-wise 
 judges, that will gie three days of hearing in presence to a de- 
 bate about the peeling of an ingan, and no ae half-hour to the 
 Gospel testimony, as legalists and formalists, countenancing, 
 by sentences, and quirks, and cunning terms of law, the late 
 begun courses of national defections — union, toleration, pat- 
 ronages, and Yerastian prelatic oaths. As for the soul and 
 body-killing Court o' Justiciary " 
 
 The habit of considering his life as dedicated to bear tes- 
 timony in behalf of what he deemed the sufi'ering and deserted 
 cause of true religion had swept honest David along with it thus 
 far ; but v/ith the mention of the criminal court, tlie recollec- 
 tion of the disastrous condition of his daughter ruslied at once 
 on his mind ; he stopped short in the midst of his triumphant 
 declamation, pressed his hands against his forehead, and re- 
 mained silent. 
 
 Saddletree was somewhat moved, but apparently not so 
 much so as to induce him to relinquish the privilege of pros- 
 ing in his turn, afforded him by David's sudden silence. " Nae 
 doubt, neignbor," he said, " it's asair thing to hae to do wi 
 
118 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 courts of law, unless it be to improve ane's knowledge and 
 practique, by waiting on as a hearer ; and touching this un- 
 happy affair of Effie — ye'll hae seen the dittay, doubtless?" 
 He dragged out of his pocket a bundle of papers, and began 
 to turn them over. "• This is no it : this is the information 
 of Mungo Marsport, of that ilk, against Captain Lackland, 
 for coming on his lands of Marsport with liawks, hounds, 
 lying-dogs, nets, guns, cross-bows, hagbuts of found, or other 
 engines more or less for destruction of game, sic as red-deer, 
 fallow-deer, caper-cailzies, gray-fowl, moor-fowl, paitricks, 
 herons, and sic-like ; he the said defender not being ane qual- 
 ified person, in terms of the statute 1621 ; that is, not having 
 ane plough-gate of land. Now, the defences proponed say 
 that non constat at this present what is a plough-gate of land, 
 whilk uncertainty is sufficient to elide the conclusions of the 
 libel. - But then the answers to the defences — they are signed 
 by Mr. Crossmyloof, but Mr. Younglad drew them — they 
 propone that it signifies naething, in Jioc statu, what or how 
 muckle a plough-gate of land may be, in respect tlie defender 
 has nae lands whatsoe'er, less or mair. ' Sae grant a plough- 
 gate [here Saddletree read from the paper in his hand] to be 
 less than the nineteenth part of a guse's grass ' — I trow Mr. 
 Crossmyloof put in that, I ken his style — 'of a guse's grass, 
 what the better will the defender be, seeing he hasna a divot- 
 cast of land in Scotland ? Advocatus for Lackland duj)lies 
 that, nihil interest de possessione, the pursuer must put his 
 case under the statute ' — now this is worth your notice, neigh- 
 bor — ^and must show, formaliter et specialiter, as well asgen- 
 eraliter, what is the qualification that defender Lackland does 
 not possess : let him tell me what a plough-gate of land is, 
 and I'll tell him if I have one or no. Surely the pursuer is 
 bound to understand his own libel and his own statute that 
 he founds upon. Titiiis pursues Msevius for recovery of ane 
 black horse lent to Maevius ; surely he shall have judgment. 
 But if Titius pursue Maevius for ane scarlet or crimsoji horse, 
 doubtless he shall be bound to show that there is sic ane ani- 
 mal in rerum natura. N"o man can be bound to plead to 
 nonsense, that is to say, to a charge which cannot be explained 
 or understood' — he's wrang there, the better the pleadings 
 the fewer understand them — ' and so the reference unto this 
 undefined and unintelligible measure of land is, as if a penalty 
 was inflicted by statute for any man who suld hunt or hawk, 
 or use lying-dogs, and wearing a sky-blue pair of breeches, 
 
 without having ' But I am wearying you, Mr. Deans ; 
 
 we'll pass to your ain business, though this case of Marsport 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 119 
 
 against Lackland has made an unco din in the Outer House, 
 Weel, here's the dittay against puir Effie : ' Whereas it is 
 humbly meant and shown to us/ etc. — they are words of mere 
 style — • that whereas, by the laws of this and every other 
 well-regulated realm, the murder of any one, more especially 
 of an infant child, is a crime of anehigh nature, and severely 
 punishable : And whereas, without prejudice to the foresaid 
 generality, it was, by ane act made in the second session of 
 tlie First Parliament of our most High and Dread Soveraigns 
 AVilliam and Mary, especially enacted, that ane woman who 
 shall have concealed her condition, and shall not be able 
 to show that she hath called for help at the birth, in case 
 that the child shall be found dead or amissing, shall be deemed 
 and held guilty of the murder thereof ; and the said facts of 
 concealment and pregnancy being found proven or confessed, 
 shall sustain the pains of law accordingly ; yet, nevertheless, 
 you, Effie or Euphemia Deans '" 
 
 " Read no farther I " said Deans, raising his head up; "I 
 would rather ye thrust a sword into my heart than read a 
 word farther ! " 
 
 '' Weel, neighbor," said Saddletree, " I thought it wad 
 hae comforted ye to ken the best and the warst o't. But 
 the question is, what's to be dune ? " 
 
 ''Nothing," answered Deans, firmly, "but to abide the 
 dispensation that the Lord sees meet to send us. 0, if it had 
 been His will to take the gray head to rest before this awful 
 visitation on my house and name ! But His wnll be done. I 
 can say that yet, though I can say little mair." 
 
 " But, neighbor," said Saddletree, " ye'll retain advocates 
 for the puir lassie ? it's a thing maun needs be thought of." 
 
 "•If tliere was ae man of them," answered Deans, "that 
 held fast his integrity — but I ken them weel, they are a' car- 
 nal, crafty, and warld-hunting self-seekers, Yerastians and 
 Arminians, every ane o' them." 
 
 " Hout tout, neighbor, ye maunna take the warld at its 
 word," said Saddletree; "the very deil is no sae ill as he's 
 ca'd ; and I ken mair than ae advocate that may be said to hae 
 some integrity as weel as their neighbors ; that is, after a sort 
 o' fashion o' their ain." 
 
 " It is indeed but a fashion of integrity that ye will find 
 amang them," replied David Deans, " and a fashion of wis- 
 dom, and fashion of carnal learning — gazing glancing-glasses 
 they are, fit only to fling the glaiks in folks' een, wi' their 
 pawky policy, and earthly ingine, their flights and refine- 
 ments, and periods of eloquence, frae heathen emperors and 
 
120 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 popish canons. They canna, in that daft trash ye were read- 
 ing to me, sae muckle as ca' men that are sae ill-starred as to 
 be amang their hands by ony name o' the dispensation o' 
 grace, but maun new baptise them by the names of the ac- 
 cursed Titus, wha was made the instrument of burning the 
 holy Temple, and other sic-like heathens/' 
 
 " It's Tishius/' interrupted Saddletree, '' and no Titus. 
 Mr. Orossmyloof cares as little about Titus or the Latio 
 learning as ye do. But it's a case of necessity : she maun hae 
 counsel. Now, I could speak to Mr. Crossmyloof ; he's weel 
 kenn'd for a round-spun Presbyterian, and a ruling elder to 
 boot." 
 
 '' He's a rank Yerastian," replied Deans ; " one of the 
 public and polititious warldly-wise men that stude up to pre- 
 vent ane general owning of the cause in the day of power." 
 
 " What say ye to theauld Laird of Cuffabout ?" said Sad- 
 dletree ; "he whiles thumps the dust out of a case gay and 
 weel." 
 
 " He ! the fause loon ! " answered Deans. " He was in 
 his bandaliers to hae joined the ungracious Highlanders in 
 1715, an they had ever had the luck to cross the Firth." 
 
 " Weel, Arniston ? there's a clever chield for ye ! " said 
 Bartoline, triumphantly. 
 
 " Ay, to bring popish medals in till their very library from 
 that schismatic woman in the north, the Duchess of GordoJi."* 
 
 " Weel, weel, but somebody ye maun hae. What think 
 ye o' Kittlepunt ? '_' 
 
 " He's an Arminian." 
 
 " Woodsetter ? " 
 
 *'He's, I doubt, a Cocceian.*' 
 
 *'Auld Whilliewhaw?" 
 
 "' He's ony thing ye like." 
 
 " Young ISTajmmo ?" 
 
 "He's naething at a'." 
 
 " Ye're ill to please, neighbor," said Saddletree. " I hae 
 run ower the pick o' them for you, ye maun e'en choose for 
 yoursell ; but bethink ye that in the multitude of counsellors 
 there's safety. Wliat say ye to try young Mackenyie ? he has 
 a' his uncle's practiques at the tongue's end." 
 
 " What, sir, wad ye speak to me," exclaimed the sturdy 
 Presbyterian, in excessive wrath, " about a man that has the 
 blood of the saints at his fingers' ends ? Didna his eme die 
 
 * James Dundas. young:er of Arniston, was tried in the year 1711 upon a charge 
 of leasing-making, in having presented, from the Duchess of Gordon, a medal of the 
 Pretender, for the purpose, it was said, of affronting Queen Anne QLaing). 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 121 
 
 and gang to his place wi' the name of the Bluidy Mackenyie? 
 and winna he be kenned by that name sae lang as there's a 
 Scots tongue to speak the word ? If the life of the dear 
 bairn that's under a suffering dispensation, and Jeanie's, and 
 my ain, and a' mankind's, depended on my asking sic a slave 
 o' Satan to speak a word for me or them, they should a' gae 
 down the water thegither for Davie Deans ! " 
 
 It was the exalted tone in which he spoke this last sen- 
 tence that broke up the conversation between Butler and 
 Jeanie, and brought them both " ben the house," to use the 
 language of the country. Here they found the poor old man 
 half frantic between grief and zealous ire against Saddletree's 
 proposed measures, his cheek inflamed, his hand clenched, 
 and his voice raised, while tlie tear in his eye, and the occa- 
 sional quiver of his accents, showed that his utmost efforts 
 were inadequate to shaking off' the consciousness of his misery. 
 Butler, apprehensive of the consequences of his agitation to 
 an aged and feeble frame, ventured to utter to him a recom- 
 mendation to patience. 
 
 "Imn patient," returned the old man, sternly, "more 
 patient than any one who is alive to the woful backslidings 
 of a miserable time can be patient ; and in so mnch, that I 
 need neither sectarians, nor sons nor grandsons of sectarians, 
 to instruct my gray hairs how to bear my cross." 
 
 " But, sir," continued Butler, taking no offence at the slur 
 cast on his grandfather's faith, "we must use human means. 
 When you call in a physician, you would not, I suppose, 
 question him on the nature of his religious principles ? " 
 
 "Wad I no9" answered David. "But I wad, though; 
 and if he didna satisfy me that he had a right sense of the 
 right-hand and left-hand defections of the day, not a goutte 
 of his physic should gang through my father's son." 
 
 It is a dangerous thing to trust to an illustration. Butler 
 had done so and miscarried ; but, like a gallant soldier when 
 his musket misses fire, he stood his ground and charged with 
 the bayonet. " This is too rigid an interpretation of your 
 duty, sir. The sun shines, and the rain descends, on the just 
 and unjust, and they are placed together in life in circumstances 
 which frequently render intercourse between them indispensa- 
 ble, perhaps that the evil may have an opportunity of being 
 converted by the good, and perhaps, also, that the righteous 
 might, among other trials, be subjected to that of occasional 
 converse with the profane." 
 
 " Ye're a silly callant, Reuben," answered Deans, "with 
 your bits of argument. Can a man touch pitch and not be de- 
 
132 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 filed ? Or what think ye of the brave and worthy championa 
 of the Covenant, tliat wadna sae muckle as hear a minister 
 speak, be his gifts and graces as they would, that hadna wit- 
 nessed against the enormities of the day ? Nae lawyer shall 
 ever speak for me and mine that hasna concurred in the testi- 
 mony of the scattered yet lovely remnant which abode in the 
 clifts of the rocks.'' 
 
 So saying, and as if fatigued both with the arguments and 
 presence of his guests, the old man arose, and seeming to bid 
 them adieu with a motion of his head and hand, went to shut 
 himself up in his sleeping-ajoartment. 
 
 " It's thrawing his daughter's life awa'," said Saddletree 
 to Butler, " to hear him speak in that daft gate. Where will 
 he ever get a Cameronian advocate ? Or wha ever heard of a 
 lawyer's suffering either for ae religion or another ? The 
 lassie's life is clean flung awa'." 
 
 During the latter part of this debate, Dumbiedikes had 
 arrived at the door, dismounted, hung the pony's bridle on the 
 usual hook, and sunk down on his ordinary settle. His eyes, 
 with more than their usual animation, followed first one speak- 
 er, then another, till he caught the melancholy sense of the 
 whole from Saddletree's last words. He rose from his seat, 
 stumped slowly across the room, and, coming close wp to Sad- 
 dletree's ear, said, in a tremulous, anxious voice, " Will — will 
 siller do naething for them, Mr. Saddletree ? " 
 
 " Umph ! " said Saddletree, looking grave, " siller will cer- 
 tainly do it in the Parliament House, if onything can do it ; 
 but whare's the siller to come f rae ? Mr. Deans, ye see, will do 
 naething ; and though Mrs. Saddletree's their far-awa' friend 
 and right good weel-wisher, and is weel disposed to assist, yet 
 she wadna like to stand to be bound singuli in solidum to such 
 an expensive wark. An ilka friend wad bear a share o' the 
 burden, something might be dune, ilka ane to be liable for 
 their ain input. I wadna like to see the case fa' through with- 
 out being pled ; it wadna be creditable, for a' that daft Whig 
 body says." 
 
 'Til — I will — yes (assuming fortitude), I will be auswer- 
 able," said Dumbiedikes, ''for a score of punds sterling." 
 And he was silent, staring in astonishment at finding himself 
 capable of such unwonted resolution and excessive generosity. 
 
 " God Almighty bless ye. Laird ! " said Jeanie, in a trans- 
 port of gratitude. 
 
 " Ye may ca' the twenty punds thretty," said Dumbiedikes, 
 looking bashfully away from her, and towards Saddletree. 
 
 " That will do bravely," said Saddletree, rubbing his hands ; 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 123 
 
 " and ye sail hae a' my skill and knowledge to gar the siller 
 gang far. I'll tape it out weel ; I ken how to gar the birkies 
 tak short fees, and be glad o' chem too : it's only garring them 
 trow ye hae twa or three cases of importance coming on, and 
 they'll work cheap to get custom. Let me alane for whilly- 
 whaing an advocate. It's nae sin to get as muckle fraethem 
 for our siller as we can ; after a', it's but the wind o' their 
 mouth, it costs them naething ; whereas, in my wretched oc- 
 cupation of a saddler, horse-milliner, and harness-maker, we 
 are out unconscionable sums just for barkened hides and 
 leather." 
 
 " Can I be of no use ? " said Butler. " My means, alas ! 
 are only worth the black coat I wear ; but I am young, I owe 
 much to the family. Can I do nothing ? " 
 
 " Ye can help to collect evidence, sir," said Saddletree ; 
 ** if we could but find ony ane to say she had gien the least 
 hint o' her condition, she wad be brought aif wi' awat finger. 
 Mr. Crossmyloof tell'd me sae. ' The crown,' says he, ' canna 
 be craved to prove a positive ' — was't a positive or a negative 
 they couldna be ca'd to prove ? it was the tane or the tither 
 o' them, I am sure, and it maksna muckle matter whilk. 
 ' Wherefore,' says he, ' the libel maun be redargued by the 
 panel proving her defences. And it canna be done other- 
 wise.'" 
 
 "But the fact, sir," argued Butler — *'Hhe fact that this 
 poor girl has borne a child ; surely the crown lawyers must 
 prove that ? " said Butler. 
 
 Saddletree paused a moment, while the visage of Dumbie- 
 dikes, which traversed, as if it had been placed on a pivot, 
 from the one spokesman to the other, assumed a more blithe 
 expression. 
 
 '• Ye — ye — ye — es,"said Saddletree, after some grave hes- 
 itation ; " unquestionably that is a thing to be proved, as the 
 court will more fully declare by an interlocutor of relevancy in 
 common form ; but I fancy that job's done already, for she 
 has confessed her guilt." 
 
 " Confessed the murder ? " exclaimed Jeanie, with a scream 
 that made them all start. 
 
 " No, I didna say that," replied Bartoline. ''But she con- 
 fessed bearing the babe." 
 
 " And what became of it, then ?" said Jeanie ; " for not a 
 word could I get from her but bitter sighs and tears." 
 
 " She says it was taken away from her by the woman in 
 whose house it was born, and who assisted her at the time." 
 
 " And who was that woman ? " said Butler. " Surely by 
 
IM WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 her means the truth might be discovered. Who was she ? I 
 will fly to her directly." 
 
 " I wish," said Dumbiedikes, '' I were as young and as 
 supple as you, and had the gift of the gab as weel." 
 
 "Who is she?" again reiterated Butler, impatiently. 
 *' Who could that woman be ? " 
 
 " Aj, wha kens that but hersell," said Saddletree ; ''she 
 deponed further, and declined to answer that interrogatory." 
 
 " Then to herself will I instantly go," said Butler ; " fare- 
 well, Jeanie." Then coming close up to her — " Take no rash 
 steps till you hear from me. Farewell ! " and he immediately 
 left the cottage. 
 
 " I wad gang too," said the landed proprietor in an anx- 
 ious, jealous, and repining -tone, " but my powny winna for 
 the life o' me gang ony other road than just frae Dumbiedikes 
 to this house-end, and sae straight back again." 
 
 " Ye'll do better for them," said Saddletree, as they left 
 the house together, " by sending me the thretty punds." 
 
 " Thretty punds ? " hesitated Dumbiedikes, who was now 
 out of the reach of those eyes which had inflamed his gener- 
 osity. " I only said twenty punds." 
 
 "Ay; but," said Saddletree, "that was under protesta- 
 tion to add and eik ; and so ye craved leave to amend your 
 libel, and made it thretty." 
 
 " Did I ? I dinna mind that I did," answered Dumbie- 
 dikes. " But whatever I said I'll stand to." Then bestrid- 
 ing his steed with some difficulty, he added, " Dinna ye think 
 poor Jeanie's een wi' the tears in them glanced like lamor 
 beads, Mr. Saddletree ? " 
 
 " I kenna muckle about women's een. Laird," replied the 
 insensible Bartoline ; " and I care just as little. I wuss I 
 were as weel free o' their tongues ; though few wives," he 
 added, recollecting the necessity of keeping up his character 
 for domestic rule, "are under better command than mine. 
 Laird. I allow neither perduellion nor lese-majesty against 
 my sovereign authority." 
 
 The Laird saw nothing so important in this observation as 
 to call for a rejoinder, and when they had exchanged a mute 
 salutation, they parted in peace upon their different errands. 
 
CHAPTER XIII 
 
 I'll warrant that fellow from drowning, were the ship no stronger 
 than a nut-shell. 
 
 The Tempest. 
 
 Butler felt neither fatigue nor want of refreshment, althougli, 
 from the mode in which he had spent the night, he might 
 well have been overcome with either. But in the earnestness 
 with wliich he hastened to the assistance of the sister of 
 Jeanie Deans he forgot both. 
 
 In his first progress he walked with so rapid a pace as 
 almost approaclied to running, when he was surprised to hear 
 behind him a call upon his name, contending with an asth- 
 matic cough, and half drowned amid the resounding trot of 
 a Highland pony. He looked behind, and saw the Laird of 
 Dumbiedikes making after him with what speed he might, for 
 it happened, fortunately for the Laird's purpose of conversing 
 with Butler, that his own road homeward was for about two 
 hundred yards the same with that which led by the nearest 
 way to the city. Butler stopped when he heard himself thus 
 summoned, internally wishing no good to the panting eques- 
 trian who thus retarded his journey. 
 
 "Uh ! uh ! uh !" ejaculated Dumbiedikes, as he checked 
 the hobbling pace of the pony by our friend Butler. "^Uh ! 
 uh ! it's a hard-set willyard beast this o' mine." He had in 
 fact just overtaken the object of his chase at the very point 
 beyond which it would have been absolutely impossible for 
 him to have continued the pursuit, since there Butlers road 
 parted from that leading to Dumbiedikes, and no means of 
 influence or compulsion which the rider could possibly have 
 used towards his Bucephalus could have induced the Celtic 
 obstinacy of Eory Bean (such was the pony's name) to have 
 diverged" a yard from the path that conducted him to his own 
 paddock. 
 
 Even when he had recovered from the shortness of breath 
 occasioned by a trot much more rapid than Eory or he were 
 accustomed to, the high purpose of Dumbiedikes seemed to 
 stick as it were in his throat, and impede his utterance, so 
 that Butler stood for nearly three minutes ere he could utter 
 
136 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 a syllable ; and when lie did find voice, it was only to say; 
 after one or two efforts, "Uh ! nh ! ulim ! I say, Mr. — Mr, 
 Butler, it's a braw day for the har'st." 
 
 ''Fine day, indeed," said Butler. -'I wish you good 
 morning, sir." 
 
 " Stay — stay a bit," rejoined Dumbiedikes ; ''that was no 
 what I had gotten to say." 
 
 " Then, pray be quick and let me have your commands," 
 rejoined Butler. " I crave your pardon, but I am in haste, 
 and Tempus nemini — you know the proverb." 
 
 Dumbiedikes did not know the proverb, nor did he even 
 take the trouble to endeavor to look as if he did, as others in 
 his place might have done. He was concentrating all his in- 
 tellects for one grand proposition, and could not afford any 
 detachment to defend outposts. " I say, Mr. Butler," said 
 he, "ken ye if Mr. Saddletree's a great lawyer ?" 
 
 " I have no person's word for it but his own," answered 
 Butler, dryly ; " but undoubtedly he best understands his own 
 qualities." 
 
 " Umph !" replied the taciturn Dumbiedikes, in a tone 
 which seemed to say, " Mr. Butler, I take your meaning." 
 " In that case," he pursued, " I'll employ my ain man o' busi- 
 ness, Nichil Novit — auld Nichil's son, and amaist as gleg as 
 his father — to agent Effie's plea." 
 
 And having thus displayed more sagacity than Butler ex- 
 pected from him, he courteously touched his gold-laced cocked 
 hat, and by a punch on the ribs conveyed to Rory Bean it 
 was his rider's pleasure that he should forthwith proceed 
 homewards ; a hint which the quadruped obeyed with that 
 degree of alacrity with which men and animals interpret and 
 obey suggestions that entirely correspond with their own in- 
 clinations. 
 
 Butler resumed his pace, not without a momentary revival 
 of that jealousy which the honest Laird's attention to the 
 family of Deans had at different times excited in his bosom. 
 But he was too generous long to nurse any feeling which was 
 allied to selfishness. "He is," said Butler to himself, " rich 
 in what I want ; why should I feel vexed that he has the heart 
 to dedicate some of his pelf to render them services which I 
 can only form the empty wish of executing ? In God's name, 
 let us each do what we can. May she be but happy ! saved 
 from the misery and disgrace that seems impending ! Let me 
 but find the means of preventing the fearful experiment of 
 this evening, and farewell to other thoughts, though my 
 heart-strings break in parting with them ! " 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 127 
 
 He redoubled his pace, and soon stood before the door of 
 the tolbooth, or rather before the entrance where the door had 
 formerly been placed. His interview with the mysterious 
 stranger, the message to Jeanie, his agitating conversation 
 with her on the subject of breaking ofE their mutual engage- 
 ments, and the interesting scene with old Deans, had so en- 
 tirely occupied his mind as to drown even recollection of the 
 tragical event which he had witnessed the preceding evening. 
 His attention was not recalled to it by the groups who stood 
 scattered on the street in conversation, wdiicli they hushed 
 when strangers approached, or by the bustling search of the 
 agents of the city ]3olice, supported by small parties of the mili- 
 tary, or by the appearance of the guard-house, before which were 
 treble sentinels, or, finally, by the subdued and intimidated 
 looks of the lower orders of society, who, conscious that they 
 were liable to susj^icion, if they were not guilty, of accession 
 to a riot likely to be strictly inquired into, glided about with 
 a humble and dismayed aspect, like men whose spirits being 
 exhausted in the revel and the dangers of a desperate debauch 
 overnight, are nerve-shaken, timorous, and unenterprising on 
 the succeeding day. 
 
 None of these symptoms of alarm and trepidation struck 
 Butler, whose mind was occupied with a different, and to him 
 still more interesting, subject, until he stood before the en- 
 trance to the prison, and saw it defended by a double file of 
 grenadiers, instead of bolts and bars. Their " Stand, stand ! " 
 the blackened appearance of the doorless gateway, and the 
 winding staircase and apaxtments of the tolbooth, now open 
 to the jDublic eye, recalled the whole proceedings of the event- 
 ful night. Upon his requesting to speak with Effie Deans, 
 the same tall, thin, silver-haired turnkey whom he had seen 
 on the preceding evening made his appearance. 
 
 "I think," he replied to Butler's request of admission, 
 with true Scottish indirectness, ''ye will be the same lad that 
 was for in to see her yestreen ? " 
 
 Butler admitted he was the same person. 
 
 "And I am thinking," pursued the turnkey, " that ye 
 speered at me when we locked up, and if we locked up earlier 
 on account of Porteous ? " 
 
 " Very likely I might make some such observation," said 
 Butler ; " but the question now is, can I see Eflfie Deans ? " 
 
 " I dinna ken ; gang in bye, and up the turnpike stair, 
 and turn till the ward on the left hand." 
 
 The old man followed close behind him, with his keys in 
 ids hand, not forgetting even that huge one which had once 
 
128 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 opened and shut the outward gate of his dominions, though 
 at present it was but an idle and useless burden. No sooner 
 had Butler entered the room to which he was directed, than 
 the experienced hand of the warder selected the proper key, 
 and locked it on the outside. At first Butler conceived this 
 manoeuvre wa? only an eif ect of the man^s habitual and official 
 caution and jealousy. But when he heard the hoarse com- 
 mand, "Turn out the guard I" and immediately .afterwards 
 heard the clash of a sentinel's arms, as he was posted at the 
 door of his apartment, he again called out to the turnkey, 
 ''Mv good friend, I have business of some consequence with 
 Effie Deans, and I beg to see her as soon as possible." No an- 
 swer was returned. •' If it be against your rules to admit me," 
 repeated Butler in a still louder tone, "to see the prisoner, I 
 oeg you will tell me so, and let me go about my business. 
 Fugit irrevocahile tempus ! " muttered he to himself. 
 
 "If ye had business to do, ye suld hae dune it before ye 
 cam here," replied the man of keys from the outside ; " ye'll 
 find it's easier wunnin in than wunnin out here. There's 
 sma' likeiriiood o' another Porteous Mob coming to rabble us 
 again : the law will hand her ain now, neighbor, and that 
 ye'll find to your cost." 
 
 "What do you mean by that, sir?" retorted Butler. 
 "You must mistake me for some other person. My name is 
 Reuben Butler, preacher of the Gospel." 
 
 "I ken that weel eneugh," said the turnkey. 
 
 " Well, then, if you know me, I have a right to know from 
 you, in return, what warrant you have for detaining me ; that, 
 I know, is the right of every British subject." 
 
 "Warrant!" said the jailer. "The warrant's awa' to 
 Liberton wi' twa sheriff officers seeking ye. If ye had stayed 
 at hame, as honest men should do, ye wad hae seen the war- 
 rant ; but if ye come to be incarcerated of your ain accord, 
 wha can help it, my jo ? " 
 
 "So I cannot see Effie Deans, then," said Butler; "and 
 you are determined not to let me out ? " 
 
 "Troth will I no, neighbor," answered the old man, dog- 
 gedly ; " as for Effie Deans, ye'll hae eneugh ado to mind your 
 ain business, and let her mind hers ; and for letting you out, 
 that maun be as the magistrate will determine. And fare ye 
 weel for a bit, for I maun see Deacon Sawyers put on ane or 
 twa o' the doors that your quiet folk broke down yesternight, 
 Mr. Butler." 
 
 There was something in this exquisitely provoking, but 
 there was also something darkly alarming. To be imprisoned. 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 139 
 
 even on a false accusation, has soniething in it disagreeable 
 and menacing even to men of more constitutional courage 
 than Butler had to boast ; for although lie had much of that 
 resolution which arises from a sense of duty and an honorable 
 desire to discharge it, yet, as his imagination was lively and 
 his frame of body delicate, he was far from possessing that 
 cool insensibility to danger which is the happy portion of men 
 of stronger health, more firm nerves, and less acute sensibility. 
 An indistinct idea of peril, which he could neither understand 
 nor ward off, seemed to float before his eyes. He tried to 
 think over the events of the preceding night, in hopes of dis- 
 covering some means of explaining or vindicating his conduct 
 for appearing among the mob, since it immediately occurred 
 to him that his detention must be founded on that circum- 
 stance. And it was with anxiety that he found he could not 
 recollect to have been under the observation of any disinter- 
 ested witness in the attempts that he made from time to time 
 to expostulate with the rioters, and to prevail on them to re- 
 lease him. The distress of Deans's family, the dangerous 
 rendezvous which Jeanie had formed, and which he could not 
 now hope to interrupt, had also their share in his unpleasant 
 reflections. Yet impatient as he was to receive an edaircisse- 
 menf upon the cause of his confinement, and if possible to 
 obtain his liberty, he was affected with a trej)idation which 
 seemed no good omen, when, after remaining an hour in this 
 solitary apartment, he received a summons to attend the sit- 
 ting magistrate. He was conducted from prison strongly 
 guarded by a party of soldiers, with a parade of precaution 
 that, however ill-timed and unnecessary, is generally displayed 
 after an event, which such precaution, if used in time, might 
 have prevented. 
 
 He was introduced into the Council Chamber, as the place 
 is called where the magistrates iiold their sittings, and which 
 was then at a little distance from the prison. One or two of 
 tlie senators of the city were present, and seemed about to 
 engage in the examination of an individual who was brought 
 forward to the foot of the long green-covered table round 
 which the council usually assembled. 
 
 "Is that the preacher?" said one of the magistrates, 
 as the city officer in attendance introduced Butler. The 
 man answered in the affirmative. "Let him sit down 
 there an instant ; we will finish this man's business very 
 briefly." 
 
 " Shall we remove Mr. Butler ? " queried the assistant. 
 
 ** It is not necessary. Let him remain where he is." 
 
130 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 Butler accordingly sat down on a bench at the bottom of 
 the apartment, attended by one of his keepers. 
 
 It was a large room, partially and imperfectly lighted ; but 
 by chance, or the skill of the architect, who might happen to 
 remember the advantage which might occasionally be derived 
 from such an arrangement, one window was so placed as to 
 throw a strong light at the foot of the table at which prison- 
 ers were usually posted for examination, while the upper end, 
 where the examinants sat, was thrown into shadow. Butler's 
 ©yes were instantly fixed on the person whose examination 
 was at present proceeding, in the idea that he might recog- 
 nize some one of the conspirators of the former night. But 
 though the features of this man were sufficiently marked and 
 striking, he could not recollect that he had excv seen them 
 before. 
 
 The complexion of this person was dark, and his age some- 
 what advanced. He wore his own hair, combed smooth down, 
 and cut very short. It was jet black, slightly curled by nat- 
 ure, and already mottled with gray. The man's face ex- 
 pressed rather knavery than vice, and a disposition to sharp- 
 ness, cunning, and roguery, more than the traces of stormy 
 and indulged passions. His sharp, quick black eyes, acute 
 features, ready sardonic smile, promptitude, and effrontery, 
 gave him altogether what is called among the vulgar a hnow- 
 ing look, which generally implies a tendency to knavery. At 
 a fair or market, you could not for a moment have doubted 
 that he was a horse-jockey, intimalfe with all the tricks of his 
 trade ; yet had you met him on a moor, you would not have 
 apprehended any violence from him. His dress was also that 
 of a horse-dealer — a close-buttoned jockey-coat, or wrap-ras- 
 cal, as it was then termed, with huge metal buttons, coarse 
 blue upper stockings, called boot-hose, because supplying the 
 place of boots, and a slouched hat. He only wanted a loaded 
 whip under his arm and a spur upon one heel to complete the 
 dress of the character he seemed to represent. 
 
 ''Your name is James Eatcliffe ?" said the magistrate. 
 
 " Ay, always wi' your honor's leave." 
 
 " That is to say, you could find me another name if I did 
 not like that one ? " 
 
 "Twenty to pick and choose upon, always with your hon- 
 or's leave," resumed the respondent. 
 
 ' ' But James Eatcliffe is your present name ? What is your 
 trade ? " ' 
 
 " I canna just say, distinctly, that I have what ye wadca' 
 preceesely a trade." 
 
THE HEART OE MIDLOTHIAN 181 
 
 " Bnt," repeated the magistrate, "what are your means 
 of living — your occupation ?" 
 
 " Hont tout, your lionor, wi' your leave, kens that as weel 
 as I do/' replied the examined. 
 
 " No matter, I want to hear you describe it," said the ex- 
 aminant. 
 
 " Me describe ? and to your honor ? Far be it from Jem- 
 mie Eatcliffe," responded the prisoner. 
 
 " Come, sir, no trifling ; I insist ou an answer." 
 
 " Weel, sir," replied the declarant, '' I maun make a clean 
 breast, for ye see, wi' your leave, I am looking for favor. De- 
 scribe my occupation, quo' ye ? Troth it will be ill to do that, 
 in a feasible way, in a place like this ; but what is't again that 
 the aught command says ? " 
 
 " Thou shalt not steal," answered the magistrate. 
 
 "Are you sure o' that ?" replied the accused. "Troth, 
 then, my occupation and that command are sair at odds, for 
 I read it, thou shcdt steal ; and that makes an unco dif- 
 ference, though there's but a wee bit word left out." 
 
 " To cut the matter short, Ratcliffe, you have been a most 
 notorious thief," said the examinant. 
 
 "I believe Highlands and Lowlands ken that, sir, forbye 
 England and Holland," replied Ratcliffe, with the greatest 
 composure and effrontery. 
 
 " And what d'ye think the end of your calling will be ?'* 
 said tlie magistrate. 
 
 "'I could have gien a braw guess yesterday ; but I dinna 
 ken sae weel the day," answered the prisoner. 
 
 " And what would you have said would have been your end 
 had you been asked the question yesterday ?" 
 
 "Just tlie gallows," replied Eatcliffe, with the same com- 
 posure. 
 
 " You are a daring rascal, sir," said the magistrate ; " and 
 how dare you hope times are mended with you to-day ? " 
 
 "Dear, your honor," answered Ratcliffe, "there's muckle 
 difference between lying in prison under sentence of deatli and 
 staying there of ane's ain proper accord, when it would have 
 cost a man naething to get up and rin awa'. What was to 
 hinder me from stepping out quietly, when the rabble walked 
 awa' wi' Jock Porteous yestreen ? And does your honor really 
 think I stayed on purpose to be hanged ?" 
 
 " I do not know what you may have proposed to yourself ; 
 but I know," said the magistrate, "wliat the law proposes for 
 you, and that is to hang you next Wednesday eight days." 
 
 "Na, na, your honor," said Ratcliffe, firmly; "craving 
 
18S WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 your honor's pardon, I'll ne'er believe that till I see it. I havo 
 
 kenn'd the law this mony a year, and mony a thrawart job 
 I hae had wi' her first and last ; but the anld Jaiid is no sae 
 ill as that comes to ; I aye fand her bark waur than her bite." 
 ''And if you do not expect the gallows, to which you are 
 condemned — for the fourth time to my knowledge — may I beg 
 the favor to know," said the magistrate, " what it is that you 
 do expect, in consideration of your not having taken your flight 
 with the rest of the jail-birds, which I will admit was a line of 
 conduct little to have been expected ?" 
 
 " I would never have thought for a moment of staying in 
 that auld gousty toom house," answered Eatcliffe, "but that 
 use and wont had just gien me a fancy to the place, and I'm 
 just expecting a bit post in't." 
 
 " A post ! " exclaimed the magistrate ; " a whipping-post, 
 I suppose, you mean ?" 
 
 " Na, na, sir, I had nae thoughts o'a whuppin-post. After 
 having been four times doomed to hang by the neck till I was 
 dead, I think I am far beyond being whuppit." 
 
 ''Then, in Heaven's name, what did you expect ?" 
 " Just the post of uiider-turnkey, for I understand there's 
 a vacancy," said the prisoner. " I wadna think of asking the 
 lockman's * place ower his head ; it wadna suit me sae weel as 
 ither folk, for I never could put a beast out o' the way, much 
 less deal wi' a man." 
 
 "That's something in your favor," said the magistrate, 
 making exactly the inference to which Eatcliffe was desirous 
 to lead him, though he mantled his art with an affectation of 
 oddity. "But," continued the magistrate, ' ' how do you think 
 you can be trusted with a charge in the prison, when you have 
 broken at your own hand half the jails in Scotland ? " 
 
 " Wi' your honor's leave," said Eatcliffe, "if I kenn'd sae 
 weel how to wun out mysell, it's like I wad be a' the better a 
 hand to keep other folk in. I think they wad ken their busi- 
 ness weel that held me in when I wanted to be out, or wan 
 out when I wanted to hand them in." 
 
 The remark seemed to strike the magistrate, but he made 
 no further immediate observation, only desired Eatcliffe to be 
 removed. 
 
 When this daring and yet sly freebooter was out of hearing, 
 the magistrate asked the city clerk, " what he thought of the 
 fellow's assurance ?" 
 
 " It's no for me to say, sir," replied the clerk; "but if 
 James Eatcliffe be inclined to turn to good, there is not a man 
 
 * Se» Note 18. 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 138 
 
 8*er came within the ports of the burgh could be of S£ie muckle 
 use to the Good Town in the thief and lock-up line of businesa. 
 I'll speak to Mr. Sharpitlaw about him." 
 
 Upon Ratcliffe's retreat, Butler was placed at the table for 
 examination. The magistrate conducted his inquiry civilly, 
 but yet in a manner which gave him to understand that he 
 labored under strong suspicion. With a frankness which at 
 once became his calling and character. Butler avowed his 
 involuntary presence at the murder of Porteous, and, at the 
 request of the magistrate, entered into a minute detail of the 
 circumstances which attended that unhappy affair. All the 
 particulars, such as we have narrated, were taken minutely 
 down by the clerk from Butler's dictation. 
 
 When the narrative was concluded, the cross-examination 
 commenced, which it is a painful task even for the most candid 
 witness to undergo, since a story, especially if connected with 
 agitating and alarming incidents, can scarce be so clearly and 
 distinctly told but that some ambiguity and doubt may be 
 thrown upon it by a string of successive and minute inter- 
 rogatories. 
 
 The magistrate commenced by observing that Butler had 
 said his object was to return to the village of Liberton, but 
 that he was interrupted by the mob at the West Port. *' Is 
 the West Port your usual way of leaving town when you go to 
 Liberton ? " said the magistrate, with a sneer. 
 
 " No, certainly," answered Butler, with the haste of a man 
 anxious to vindicate the accuracy of his evidence; "but I 
 chanced to be nearer that port than any other, and the hour, 
 of shutting the gates was on the point of striking." 
 
 " That was unlucky," said the magistrate, dryly. " Pray, 
 being, as you sa}", under coercion and fear of the lawless multi- 
 tude, and compelled to accompany them through scenes dis- 
 agreeable to all men of humanity, and more especially irrecon- 
 cilable to the profession of a minister, did you not attempt t« 
 struggle, resist, or escape from their violence ? " 
 
 Butler replied, " that their numbers prevented him from 
 attempting resistance, and their vigilance from effecting his 
 escape." 
 
 " That was unlucky," again repeated the magistrate, in 
 the same dry inacquiescent tone of voice and manner. He 
 proceeded with decency and politeness, but with a stiffness 
 which argued his continued suspicion, to ask many questions 
 concerning the behavior of the mob, the manners and dress of 
 the ringleaders ; and when he conceived that the caution of 
 Butler, if he was deceiving him, must be lulled asleep, the 
 
184 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 magistrate suddenly and artfully returned to former parts of 
 his declaration, and required a new recapitulation of the cir- 
 cumstances, to the minutest and most trivial point, which 
 attended each part of the melancholy scene. No confusion 
 or contradiction, however, occurred, that could countenance 
 the suspicion which he seemed to have adopted against Butler. 
 At length the train of his interrogatories reached Madge Wild- 
 fire, at whose name the magistrate and town clerk exchanged 
 significant glances. If the fate of the Good Town had de- 
 pended on her careful magistrate's knowing the features and 
 dress of this personage, his inquiries could not have been 
 more particular. But Butler could say almost nothing of this 
 person's features, which were disguised apparently with red 
 paint and soot, like an Indian going to battle, besides the 
 projecting shade of a curch or coif, which muffled the hair of 
 the supposed female. He declared that he thought he could 
 not know this Madge Wildfire, if placed before him in a 
 different dress, but that he believed he might recognize her 
 voice. . 
 
 The magistrate requested him again to state by what gate 
 he left the city. 
 
 " By the Cowgate Port," replied Butler. 
 
 ''Was that the nearest road to Liberton ?" 
 
 " No," answered Butler, with embarrassment ; ''but it was 
 the nearest way to extricate myself from the mob." 
 
 The clerk and magistrate again exchanged glances. 
 
 "Is the Cowgate Porta nearer way to Liberton from the 
 Grassmarket than Bristo Port ? " 
 
 " No," replied Butler ; " but I had to visit a friend." 
 
 " Indeed ? " said the interrogator. " You were in a hurry 
 to tell the sight yon had witnessed, I suppose ? " 
 
 "Indeed I was not," replied Butler; "nor did I speak 
 on the subject the whole time I was at St. Leonard's 
 Crags." 
 
 " Which road did you take to St. Leonard's Crags ?" 
 
 " By the foot of Salisbury Crags," was the reply. 
 
 " Indeed ? you seem partial to circuitous routes," again 
 said the magistrate. "Whom did you see after you left 
 the city ? " 
 
 • One by one he obtained a description of every one of the 
 groups who had passed Butler, as already noticed, their num- 
 ber, demeanor, and appearance, and at length came to the 
 circumstance of the mysterious stranger in the King's Park. 
 On this subject Butler would fain have remained silent. But 
 the magistrate had no sooner got a slight hint concerning the 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 185 
 
 incident than he seemed bent to possess himself of the most 
 minute particulars. 
 
 "■ Look ye, Mr. Butler," said he, " you are a young man, 
 and bear an excellent character ; so much I will myself tes- 
 tify in your favor. But we are aware there has been, at times, 
 a sort of bastard and fiery zeal in some of your order, and those 
 men irreproachable in other points, which has led them into 
 doing and countenancing great irregularities, by which the 
 peace of the country is liable to be shaken. I will deal plainly 
 with you. I am not at all satisfied with this story of your set- 
 ting out again and again to seek your dwelling by two several 
 roads, which were both circuitous. And, to be frank, no one 
 whom we have examined on this unhappy affair could trace 
 in your appearance anything like your acting under compul- 
 sion. Moreover, the waiters at the Cowgate Port observed 
 something like the trepidation of guilt in your conduct, and 
 declare that you were the first to command them to open the 
 gate, in a tone of authority, as if still presiding over the guards 
 and outposts of the rabble who had besieged them the whole 
 night." 
 
 *' God forgive them ! " said Butler. "1 only asked free 
 passage for myself ; they must have much misunderstood, if 
 they did not wilfully misrepresent, me." 
 
 "^ Well, Mr. Butler," resumed the magistrate, "I am in- 
 clined to judge the best and hope the best, as I am sure I 
 wish the best ; but you must be frank with me, if you wish 
 to secure my good opinion, and lessen the risk of inconven- 
 ience to yourself. You have allowed you saw another indi- 
 vidual in your passage through the King's Park to St. Leon- 
 ard's Crags ; I must know every word which passed betwixt 
 you." 
 
 Thus closely pressed, Butler, who had no reason for con- 
 cealing what passed at tliat meeting, unless because Jeanie 
 Deans was concerned in it, thought it best to tell the whole 
 truth from beginning to end. 
 
 " Do you suppose," said the magistrate, pausing, " that the 
 young woman will accept an invitation so mysterious ? " 
 
 " I fear she will," replied Butler. 
 
 "Why do you use the word 'fear' it ?" said the magis- 
 trate. 
 
 "Because I am apprehensive for her safety in meeting, 
 at such a time and place, one who had something of the man- 
 ner of a desperado, and whose message Avas of a character so 
 inexplicable." 
 
 " Her safety shall be cared for," said the magistrate. 
 
136 WA VERLEY NOVELS 
 
 *'Mr. Butler, I am concerned I cannot immediately discharge 
 you from confinement, but I hope yon will not be long de- 
 tained. Eemove Mr. Butler, and let him be provided with 
 decent accommodation in all respects." 
 
 He was conducted back to the prison accordingly ; but, 
 in the food offered to him, as well as in the apartment in 
 which he was lodged, the recommendation of the magistrate 
 was strictly attended to. 
 
CHAPTER XIV 
 
 Dark and eerie was the night, 
 
 And lonely was the way, 
 As Janet, wi' her green mantell, 
 
 To Miles' Cross she did gae. 
 
 Old Ballad. 
 
 Leaying Bntler to all the uncomfortable thoughts attached 
 to his new situation, among which the most predominant wag 
 his feeling that he was, by his confinement, deprived of all 
 possibility of assisting the family at St. Leonard's in their 
 greatest need, we return to Jeanie Deans, who had seen him 
 depart, without an opportunity of further explanation, in all 
 that agony of mind with which the female heart bids adieu 
 tc the complicated sensations so well described by Coleridge — 
 
 Hopes, and fears that kindle hope, 
 
 An undistinguishable throng ; 
 And gentle wishes long subdued — 
 
 Subdued and cherish'd long. 
 
 It is not the firmest heart (and Jeanie, under her russet 
 rokelay, had one that would not have disgraced Cato's daugh- 
 ter) that can most easily bid adieu to these soft and mingled 
 emotions. She wept for a few minutes bitterly, and without 
 attempting to refrain from this indulgence of passion. But 
 a moment's recollection induced her to check herself for a 
 grief selfish and proper to her own affections, while her father 
 and sister were plunged into such deep and irretrievable afflic- 
 tion. She drew from her pocket the letter which had been 
 that morning flung into her apartment through an open win- 
 dow, and the contents of which were as singular as the ex- 
 pression was violent and energetic. " If she would save a 
 human being from the most damning guilt, and all its des- 
 perate consequences ; if she desired the life and honor of her 
 sister to be saved from the bloody fangs of an unjust law ; 
 if she desired not to forfeit peace of mind here, and happi- 
 ness hereafter," such was the frantic style of the conjuration, 
 *' she was entreated to give a sure, secret, and solitary meet- 
 ing to the writer. She alorie could rescue him/' so ran the 
 
138 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 letter, ''and he only could rescue her." He was in such cir- 
 cumstances, the billet further informed her, that an attempt 
 to bring any witness of their conference, or even to mention to 
 her father, or any other person whatsoever, the letter which 
 requested it, would inevitably prevent its taking place, and 
 insure the destruction of her sister. The letter concluded 
 with incoherent but violent protestations that in obeying this 
 summons she had nothing to fear personally. 
 
 The message delivered to her by Butler from the stranger 
 in the Park tallied exactly with the contents of the letter, 
 but assigned a later hour and a different place of meeting. 
 Apparently the writer of the letter had been compelled to 
 let Butler so far into his confidence, for the sake of announ- 
 cing this change to Jeanie. She was more than once on the 
 point of producing the billet, in vindication of herself from 
 her lover's half-hinted suspicions. But there is something in 
 stooping to Justification which the pride of innocence does not 
 at all timss willingly submit to ; besides that the threats con- 
 tained in the letter, in case of her betraying the secret, hung 
 heavy on her heart. It is probable, however, that, had they 
 remained longer together, she might have taken the resolu- 
 tion to submit the whole matter to Butler, and be guided by 
 him as to the line of conduct which she should adopt. And 
 vthen, by the sudden interruption of their conference, she 
 lost the ojjportunity of doing so, she felt as if she had been 
 unjust to a friend whose advice might have been highly use- 
 ful, and whose attachment deserved her full and unreserved 
 confidence. 
 
 To have recourse to her father upon this occasion, she 
 considered as highly imprudent. There was no possibility of 
 conjecturing in what light the matter might strike old David, 
 whose manner of acting and thinking in extraordinary cir- 
 cumstances depended upon feelings and principles peculiar to 
 himself, the operation of wliich could not be calculated upon 
 even by those best acquainted with him. To have requested 
 some female friend to have accompanied her to the place of 
 rendezvoas would perhaps have been the most eligible expedi- 
 ent ; but the threats of the writer, that betraying his secret 
 would prevent tlieir meeting, on which her sister's safety was 
 said to depend, from taking place at all, would have deterred 
 her from making such a confidence, even had she known a 
 person in whom she thought it could with safety have been 
 reposed. But she knew none such. Their acquaintance with 
 the cottagers in the vicinity had been very slight, and limited 
 to trifling acts of good neighborhood. Jeanie knew little of 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 189 
 
 them, and what she knew did not greatly incline her to trust 
 any of them. They were of the order of loqnacions good- 
 humored gossips usually found in their situation of life ; and 
 their conversation had at all times few charms for a young 
 woman to whom nature and the circumstances of a solitary 
 life had given a depth of thought and force of character su- 
 perior to the frivolous part of her sex whether in high or low 
 degree. 
 
 Left alone and separated from all earthly counsel, she had 
 recourse to a Friend and Adviser whose ear is open to theory 
 of the poorest and most afflicted of His people. She knelt 
 and prayed with fervent sincerity that God would please to 
 direct her what course to follow in her arduous and distressing 
 situation. It was the belief of the time and sect to which she 
 belonged that special answers to prayer, differing little in their 
 character from divine inspiration, were, as they expressed it, 
 " borne in upon their minds " in answer to their earnest peti- 
 tions in a crisis of difficulty. Without entering into an ab- 
 struse point of divinity, one thing is plain ; namely, that the 
 person who lays open his doubts and distresses in prayer, with 
 feeling and sincerity, must necessarily, in the act of doing so, 
 purify his mind from the dross of worldly passions and inter- 
 ests, and bring it into that state when the resolutions adopted 
 are likely to be selected rather from a sense of duty than from 
 any inferior motive. Jeanie arose from her devotions with 
 her heart fortified to endure affliction and encouraged to face 
 difficulties. 
 
 "I will meet this unhappy man," she said to herself — 
 *' unhappy he must be, since I doubt he has been the cause of 
 poor Effie's misfortune ; but I will meet him, be it for good 
 or ill. My mind shall never cast up to me that, for fear of 
 what might be said or done to myself, I left that undone that 
 might even yet be the rescue of her." 
 
 With a mind greatly composed since the adoption of this 
 resolution, she went to attend her father. The old man, firm 
 in the principles of his youth, did not, in outward aijpearance 
 at least, permit a thought of his family distress to interfere 
 with the stoical reserve of his countenance and manners. He 
 even chid his daughter for having neglected, in the distress 
 of the morning, some trifling domestic duties which fell under 
 her department. 
 
 " Why, what meaneth this, Jeanie ?" said the old man. 
 " The brown four-year-auld's milk is not seiled yet, nor the 
 bowies put up on the bink. If ye neglect your warldly duties 
 in the day of affliction, what confidence have I that ye mind 
 
140 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 the greater matters that concern salvation ? God knows, onr 
 bowies, and our pipkins, and our draps o' milk, and our bits 
 o' bread are nearer and dearer to us than the bread of life." 
 
 Jeanie, not unpleased to hear her fatlier's thoughts thus 
 expand themselves beyond the sphere of his immediate distress, 
 obeyed him, and proceeded to put her household matters in 
 order ; while old David moved from place to place about his 
 ordinary employments, scarce showing, unless by a nervous 
 impatience at remaining long stationary, an occasional con- 
 ynlsive sigh, or twinkle of the eyelid, that he was laboring 
 under the yoke of such bitter affliction. 
 
 The hour of noon came on, and the father and child sat 
 down to their homely repast. In his petition for a blessing 
 on the meal, the poor old man added to his supplication a 
 prayer that the bread eaten in sadness of heart, and the bitter 
 waters of Merali, miglit be made as nourishing as those which 
 had been poured forth from a full cup and a plentiful basket 
 and store ; and having concluded his benediction, and re- 
 sumed the bonnet which he had laid ''reverently aside," he 
 proceeded to exhort his daughter to eat, not by example, in- 
 deed, but at least by precept. 
 
 " The man after God's own heart," he said, ''washed and 
 anointed himself, and did eat bread, in order to express his sub- 
 mission under a dispensation of suffering, and it did not be- 
 come a Christian man or woman so to cling to creature-com- 
 forts of wife or bairns [here the words became too great, as it 
 were, for his utterance] as to forget the first duty — submission 
 to the Divine will." 
 
 To add force to his precept, he took a morsel on his plate, 
 but nature proved too strong even for the powerful feelings 
 with which he endeavored to bridle it. Ashamed of his weak- 
 ness, he started up and ran out of the house, with haste very 
 unlike the'deliberation of .his usual movements. In less than 
 five minutes he returned, having successfully struggled to 
 recover his ordinary composure of mind and countenance, and 
 affected to color over his late retreat by muttering that he 
 thought he heard the " young staig loose in the byre." 
 
 He did not again trust himself with the subject of his 
 former conversation, and his daughter was glad to see that he 
 seemed to avoid further discourse on that agitating topic. 
 The hours glided on, as on they must and do pass, whether 
 winged with Joy or laden with affliction. The sun set beyond 
 the dusky eminence of the Castle and the screen of western 
 hills, and the close of evening summoned David Deans and 
 his daughter to the family duty of the evening. It came bit- 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 141 
 
 terly upon Jeanie's recollection how often, when the hour of 
 worship approached, she used to watch the lengthening shad- 
 ows, and look out from the door of the house, to see if she 
 could spy her sister's return homeward. Alas ! this idle and 
 thoughtless waste of time, to what evils had it not finally led ? 
 And was she altogether guiltless, who, noticing Effie's turn 
 to idle and light society, had not called in her father's author- 
 ity to restrain her ? "But I acted for the best," she again 
 reflected, '' and who could have expected such a growth of evil 
 from one grain of human leaven in a disposition so kind, and 
 candid, and generous ?" 
 
 As they sat down to the "exercise," as it is called, a chair 
 happened accidentally to stand in the place which Effie usually 
 occupied. David Deans saw his daughter's eyes swim in tears 
 as they were directed towards this object, and pushed it aside 
 with a gesture of some impatience, as if desirous to destroy 
 every memorial of earthly interest when about to address the 
 Deity. The portion of Scripture was read, the psalm was 
 sung, the prayer was made ; and it was remarkable that, in 
 discharging these duties, the old man avoided all passages and 
 expressions, of which Scripture affords so many, that might 
 be considered as applicable to his own domestic misfortune. 
 In doing so it was perhaps his intention to spare the feelings 
 of his daughter, as well as to maintain, in outward show at 
 least, that stoical appearance of patient endurance of all the 
 evil which earth could bring, which was, in his opinion, es- 
 sential to the character of oiie who rated all earthly things at 
 their own just estimate of nothingness. When he had fin- 
 ished the duty of the evening, he came up to his daughter, 
 wished her good-night, and, having done so, continued to hold 
 her by the hands for half a minute ; then drawing her towards 
 him, kissed her forehead, and ejaculated, ''The God of Israel 
 bless you, even with the blessings of the promise, my dear 
 bairn!" 
 
 It was not either in the natui'e or habits of David Deans 
 to seem a fond father ; nor was he often observed to ex- 
 perience, or at least to evince, that fulness of the heart 
 which seeks to expand itself in tender expressions or caresses 
 even to those who were dearest to him. On the contrary, he 
 used to censure this as a degree of weakness in several of his 
 neighbors, and particularly in poor widow Butler. It fol- 
 lowed, however, from the rarity of such emotions in this self- 
 denied and reserved man, that his children attached to occa- 
 sional marks of his affection and approbation a degree of high 
 interest and solemnity, well considering them as evidences of 
 
142 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 feelings which were only expressed when they became too in- 
 tense for suppression or concealment. 
 
 With deep emotion, therefore, did he bestow, and his 
 daughter receive, this benediction and paternal caress. ' ' And 
 you, my dear father," exclaimed Jeanie, when the door had 
 closed upon the venerable old man, " may you have purchased 
 and promised blessings multiplied upon you — upon you, who 
 walk in this world as though ye were not of the world, and 
 hold all that it can give or take away but as the midges that 
 the sun-blink brings out and the evening wind sweeps away !" 
 
 She now made preparation for her night-walk. Her 
 father slept in another part of the dwelling, and, regular in 
 all his habits, seldom or never left his apartment when he had 
 betaken himself to it for the evening. It was therefore easy 
 for her to leave the house unobserved, so soon as the time 
 approached at which she was to keep her appointment. But 
 the step she was about to take had difficulties and terrors in 
 her own eyes, though she had no reason to apprehend her 
 father's interference. Her life had been spent in the quiet, 
 uniform, and regular seclusion of their peaceful and mo- 
 notonous household. The very hour which some damsels 
 of the present day, as well of her own as of higher degree, 
 would consider as the natural period of commencing an even- 
 ing of pleasure, brought, in her opinion, awe and solemnity 
 in it ; and the resolution she had taken had a strange, daring 
 and adventurous character, to which she could hardly recon- 
 cile herself when the moment approached for putting it into 
 execution. Her hands trembled as she snooded her fair 
 hair beneath the ribbon, then the only ornament or cover 
 which young unmarried women wore on their head, and as 
 she adjusted the scarlet tartan screen or muffler made of 
 plaid, which the Scottish women wore, much in the fashion 
 of the black silk veils still a part of female dress in the Nether- 
 lands. A sense of impropriety as well as of danger pressed 
 upon her, as she lifted the latch of her paternal mansion to 
 leave it on so wild an expedition, and at so late an hour, un- 
 proteeted, and without the knowledge of her natural guardian. 
 
 When she found herself abroad and in the open fields, ad- 
 ditional subjects of apprehension crowded upon her. The 
 dim cliffs and scattered rocks, interspersed with greensward, 
 through which she had to pass to the place of appointment, 
 as they glimmered before her in a clear autumn night, recalled 
 to her memory many a deed of violence, which, according to 
 tradition, had been done and suffered among them. In earlier 
 days they had been the haunt of robbers and assassins, the 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 143 
 
 memory of whose crimes is preserved in the various edicts 
 which the council of the city, and even the parliament of Scot- 
 land, had passed for dispersing their bands, and insuring safety 
 to the lieges, so near the precincts of the city. The names 
 of these criminals, and of their atrocities, were still remembered 
 in traditions of the scattered cottages and the neighboring 
 suburb. In latter times, as we have already noticed, the 
 sequestered and broken character of the ground rendered it 
 a fit theatre for duels and rencontres among the fiery youth of 
 the period. Two or three of these incidents, all sanguinary, 
 and one of them fatal in its termination, had happened since 
 Deans came to live at St. Leonard's. His daughter's recollec- 
 tions, therefore, were of blood and horror as she jDursued the 
 small scarce-tracked solitary path, every step of which con- 
 veyed her to a greater distance from help, and deeper into the 
 ominous seclusion of these unhallowed precincts. 
 
 As the moon began to peer forth on the scene with a 
 doubtful, flitting, and solemn light, Jeanie's apprehensions 
 took another turn, too peculiar to her rank and country to 
 remain unnoticed. But to trace its origin will require another 
 chapter. 
 
CHAPTEE XV 
 
 The spirit I have seen 
 May be the devil. And the devil has power 
 To assume a pleasing shape. 
 
 Ramlet. 
 
 y 
 
 "Witchcraft and demonology, as we have had already occasion 
 to remark, were at this period believed in by almost all ranks, 
 but more especially among the stricter classes of Presbyterians, 
 whose government, when their party were at the head of the 
 state, had been much sullied by their eagerness to inquire into 
 and persecute these imaginary crimes. Now, in this point of 
 view, also, St. Leonard's Crags and the adjacent chase were a 
 dreaded and ill-reputed district. Not only had witches held 
 their meetings there, but even of very late years the entliusi- 
 ast, or impostor, mentioned in the Pandmmomum of Richard 
 Bovet, G-entleman,* had, among the recesses of these romantic 
 cliffs, fourid liis way into the hidden retreats where the fairies 
 revel in the bowels of the earth. 
 
 With all these legends Jeanie Deans was too well acquainted 
 to escape that strong impression which they usually make on 
 the imagination. Indeed, relations of this ghostly kind had 
 been familiar to her from her infancy, for they were the only 
 relief which her father's conversation afforded from contro- 
 versial argument, or the gloomy history of the strivings and 
 testimonies, escapes, captures, tortures, and executions of 
 those martyrs of the Covenant with whom it was his chiefest 
 boast to say he had been acquainted. In the recesses of 
 mountains, in caverns, and in morasses, to which these perse- 
 cuted enthusiasts were so ruthlessly pursued, they conceived 
 they had often to contend with the visible assaults of the 
 Enemy of mankind, as in the cities and in the cultivated fields 
 they were exposed to those of the tyrannical government and 
 their soldiery. Such were the terrors which made one of their 
 gifted seers exclaim, when his companion returned to him, 
 after having left him alone in a haunted cavern in Sorn in 
 Galloway, " It is hard living in this world — incarnate devils 
 above the aartli, and devils under the earth ! Satan has been 
 
 * See The Fairy Boy of Leith. Note 19. 
 144 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 145 
 
 here since ye went away, but I have dismissed him by resist- 
 ance ; we will be no more troubled with him this night." 
 David Deans believed this, and many other such ghostly en- 
 counters and victories, on the faith of the ansars, or auxiliaries 
 of the banished prophets. This event was beyond David's re- 
 membrance. But he used to tell with great awe, yet not with- 
 out a feeling of proud superiority to his auditors, how he 
 himself had been present at a field-meetiug at Crochmade, 
 when the duty of the day was interrupted by the apparition 
 of a tall black man, who, in the act of crossing a ford to join 
 the congregation, lost ground, and was carried down appar- 
 ently by the force of the stream. All were instantly at work 
 to assist him, but with so little success that ten or twelve stout 
 men, who had hold of the roj^e which they had cast in to his 
 aid, were rather in danger to be dragged into the stream, and 
 lose their own lives, than likely to save that of the supposed 
 perishing man, " But famous John Semple of Carspharn," 
 David Deans used to say with exultation, " saw the whaup in 
 the rape. ' Quit the rope,' he cried to us — for I that was 
 but a callant had a baud o' the rape mysell — ' it is the Great 
 Enemy ! he will burn, but not drown ; his design is to disturb 
 the good wark, by raising wonder and confusion in your minds, 
 to put off from your spirits all that ye hae heard and felt.' 
 Sae we let go the rape," said David, " and he went adown the 
 water screeching and bullering like a Bull of Bashan, as he's 
 caid in Scripture."* 
 
 Trained in these and similar legends, it was no wonder 
 that Jeanie began to feel an ill-defined apprehensioji, not 
 merely of the phantoms which might beset her way, but of the 
 quality, nature, and purpose of the being who had thus ap- 
 pointed her a meeting at a place and hour of horror, and at 
 a time when her mind must be necessarily full of those 
 tempting and ensnaring thoughts of grief and despair which 
 were supposed to lay sufferers particularly open to the temp- 
 tations of the Evil One. If such an idea had crossed even 
 Butler's well-informed mind, it was calculated to make a much 
 stronger impression upon hers. Yet firmly believing the 
 possibility of an encounter so terrible to flesh and blood, 
 Jeanie, with a degree of resolution of which we cannot suffi- 
 ciently estimate the merit, because the incredulity of the age 
 has rendered us strangers to the nature and extent of her 
 feelings, persevered in her determination not to omit an op- 
 portunity of doing something towards saving her sister, al- 
 though, in the attempt to avail herself of it, she might be 
 
 • See Intercourse of the Covenanters with the Invisible World. Note 80. 
 
146 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 exposed to dangers so dreadful to her imagination. So, UX& 
 Christiana in the Pilgrim's Progress, wlien traversing w>th a 
 timid 3^et resolved step the terrors of the Valley of the 
 Shadow of Death, she glided on by rock and stone, '*notV in 
 glimmer and now in gloom," as her path lay through moon- 
 light or shadow, and endeavored to overpower the suggestions 
 of fear, sometimes by fixing her mind upon the distressed 
 condition of her sister, and the duty she lay under to aiford 
 her aid, should that be in her power, and more frequently by 
 recurring in mental prayer to the protection of that Being to 
 whom night is as noonday. 
 
 Thus drowning at one time her fears by fixing her mind 
 on a subject of overpowering interest, and arguing them 
 down at others by referring herself to the protection of the 
 Deity, she at length aj)proaclied the place assigned for this 
 mysterious conference. 
 
 It was situated in the depth of the valley behind Salis- 
 bury Crags, which has for a background the north-western 
 shoulder of the' mountain called Arthur's Seat, on whose 
 descent still remain the ruins of what was once a chapel, or 
 hermitage, dedicated to St. Anthony the Eremite. A better 
 site for such a building could hardly have been selected ; for 
 the chapel, situated ainong the rude and pathless cliffs, lies 
 in a desert, even in the immediate vicinity of a rich, popu- 
 lous, and tumultuous capital ; and the hum of the city might 
 mingle with the orisons of the recluses, conveying as little of 
 worldly interest as if it had been the roar of the distant ocean. 
 Beneath the steep ascent on which these ruins are still visible, 
 was, and perhaps is still, pointed out the place where the 
 wretch Nicol Muschat, who has been already mentioned in 
 these pages, had closed a long scene of cruelty towards his 
 unfortunate wife by murdering her, with circumstances of un- 
 common barbarity. The execration in which the man's crime 
 was held extended itself to the place where it was perpetrated, 
 which was marked by a small cairn, or heap of stones, com- 
 posed of those which each chance passenger had thrown tliCi-e 
 in testimony of abhorrence, and on the principle, it would 
 seem, of the ancient Britisli malediction, " May you have a 
 cairn for your burial-place ! " 
 
 As our heroine approached this ominous and unhallowed 
 spot, she paused and looked to the moon, now rising broad on 
 the north-west, and shedding a more distinct light than it had 
 afforded during her walk thither. Eying the planet for a 
 moment, she then slowly and fearfully turned her head towards 
 the calm, from which it was at first averted. She was at first 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 147 
 
 disappointed. Nothing was visible beside the little pile of 
 stones, which shone gray in the moonlight. A multitude of 
 confused suggestions rushed on her mind. Had her corre- 
 spondent deceived her, and broken his appointment ? was he too 
 tardy at the appointment he had made ? or had some strange 
 turn of fate prevented him from appearing as he proposed ? 
 or, if he were an unearthly being, as her secret apprehensions 
 suggested, was it his object merely to delude her with false 
 hopes, and put her to unnecessary toil and terror, according to 
 the nature, as she had heard, of those wandering demons ? or 
 did he purpose to blast her with the sudden horrors of his 
 presence when she had come close to the place of rendezvous ? 
 These anxious reflections did not prevent her approaching to 
 the cairn with a pace that, though slow. Avas determined 
 
 When she was within two yards of the heap of stones, a 
 figure rose suddenly up from behind it, and Jeanie scarce 
 forbore to scream aloud at what seemed the realization of the 
 most frightful of her anticipations. She constrained herself to 
 silence, however, and, making a dead pause, suffered the figure 
 to open the conversation, which he did by asking, in a voice 
 which agitation rendered tremulous and hollow, " Are you the 
 sister of that ill-fated young woman ? " 
 
 " I am ; I am the sister of Eflfie Deans ! " exclaimed Jeanie. 
 " And as ever you hoj^e God will hear you at your need, tell 
 me, if you can tell, what can be done to save her ! " 
 
 '^Ido not hope God will hear me at my need," was the 
 singular answer. " I do not deserve — I do not expect He will. " 
 This desperate language he uttered in a tone calmer than that 
 with which he had at first spoken, probably because the shock of 
 first addressing her was what he felt most diflficult to overcome. 
 
 Jeanie remained mute with horror to hear language ex- 
 pressed so utterly foreign to all which she had ever been ac- 
 quainted with, that it sounded in her ears rather like that of a 
 fiend than of a human being. 
 
 The stranger pursued his address to her without seeming to 
 notice her surprise. " You see before you a wretch predes- 
 tined to evil here and hereafter." 
 
 "For the sake of Heaven, that hears and sees us," said 
 Jeanie, " dinna speak in this desperate fashion. The Gos- 
 pel is sent to the chief of sinners — to the most miserable 
 among the miserable." 
 
 " Then should I have my own share therein," said the 
 stranger,'^ if you call it sinful to have been the destruction of 
 the mother that bore me, of the friend that loved me, of the 
 woman that trusted me, of the injioceat child that was born 
 
148 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 to me. If to have done all this is to be a sinner, and to sur- 
 vive it is to be miserable, then am I most guilty and most mis- 
 erable indeed." 
 
 "'Then you are the wicked causeof my sister's ruin ?"said 
 Jeaiiie, with a natural touch of indignation expressed in her 
 tone of voice. 
 
 " Curse me for it if j-ou will," said the stranger ; " I have 
 well deserved it at your hand." 
 
 " It is fitter for me," said Jeanie, '' to pray to Grod to for- 
 give you." 
 
 " Do as you will, how you will, or what you will," he re- 
 plied, with vehemence ; " only promise to obey my directions, 
 and save your sister's life." 
 
 "I must first know," said Jeanie, "the means you would 
 have me use in her behalf." 
 
 " No ! you must first swear — solemnly swear — that you 
 will employ them, when I make them known to you." 
 
 " Surely it is needless to swear that I will do all that is law- 
 ful to a Christian to save the life of my sister ? " 
 
 " I will have no reservation ! " thundered the stranger. 
 ** Lawful or unlawful. Christian or heathen, you shall swear 
 to do my hest and act by my counsel, or — you little know 
 whose wrath you provoke ! " 
 
 "I will think on what you have said," said Jeanie, who be- 
 gan to get much alarmed at the frantic vehemence of his man- 
 ner, and disputed in her own mind whether she spoke to a 
 maniac or an apostate spirit incarnate — "' I will think on what 
 you say, and let you ken to-morrow." 
 
 " To-morrow ! " exclaimed the man, with a laugh of scorn. 
 * ' And wliere will I be to-morrow ? or where will you be to- 
 night, unless you swear to walk by my counsel ? There was 
 one accursed deed done at this spot before now ; and thei'e 
 shall be another to match it unless you yield up to my guid- 
 ance body and soul." 
 
 As he spoke, lie offered a pistol at the unfortunate young 
 woman. She neither fled nor fainted, but sunk on her kneea 
 and asked him to spare her life. 
 
 "Is that all you have to say?" said the unmoved ruffian. 
 
 "' Do not dip your hands in the blood of a defenceless creat- 
 ure that has trusted to you," said Jeanie, still on her knees. 
 
 " Is that all you can say for your life? Have you no prom- 
 ise to give ? Will you destroy your sister, and compel me to 
 shed more blood ? " 
 
 " I can promise nothing," said Jeanie, " which is unlaw- 
 ful for a Christian.*' 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 149 
 
 He cocked the weapon and held it towards her. 
 
 ** May God forgive you ! " she said, pressing her hands 
 forcibly against her eyes. 
 
 ''D n !" muttered the man; and, turning aside from 
 
 her, he uncocked the pistol and replaced it in his pocket. " I 
 am a villain," he said, " steeped in guilt and wretchedness, 
 but not wicked enough to do you any harm ! I only wished 
 to terrify you into my measures. She hears me not — she is 
 gone ! Great God ! what a wretch am I become ! " 
 
 As he spoke, she recovered herself from an agony which 
 partook of the bitterness of death ; and in a minute or two, 
 through the strong exertion of her natural sense and courage, 
 collected herself sufficiently to understand he intended her no 
 personal injury. 
 
 " No ! " he repeated ; " I would not add to the murder of 
 your sister, and of her child, that of any one belonging to her ! 
 Mad, frantic, as I am, and unrestrained by either fear or 
 mercy, given up to the possession of an evil being, and forsaken 
 by all that is good. I would not hurt you, were the world of- 
 fered me for a bribe ! But, for the sake of all that is dear to 
 you, swear you will follow my counsel. Take this weapon, 
 shoot me througli the head, and with your own hand revenge 
 your sister's wrong, only follow the course — the only course, 
 by whicli her life can be saved." 
 
 "' Alas ! is she innocent or guilty ? " 
 
 *'Sheis guiltless — guiltless of everything but of having 
 trusted a villain ! Yet, had it not been for those that were 
 worse than I am — yes, worse than I am, though I am bad in- 
 deed — this misery had not befallen." 
 
 •"And my sister's child — does it live ?" said Jeanie. 
 
 "■ No ; it was murdered — the new-born infant was barba- 
 rously murdered," he uttered in a low yet stern and sustained 
 voice ; "but," he added, hastily, "not by her knowledge or 
 consent." 
 
 " Then why cannot the guilty be brought to justice, and 
 the innocent freed ? " 
 
 " Torment me not with questions which can serve no pur- 
 pose," he sternly replied. " The deed was done by those who 
 are far enough from pursuit, and safe enough from discovery ! 
 No one can save Effie but yourself." 
 
 " Woe's me ! how is it in my power ? " asked Jeanie, in 
 despondency. 
 
 " Hearken to me ! You have sense — you oan apprehend 
 my meaning — I will trust you. Your sister is innocent of the 
 crime charged against her " 
 
150 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 " Thank (rod for that ! " said Jeanie. 
 
 " Be still and hearken ! The person who assisted her in 
 her illness murdered the child ; )but it was without the mother's 
 knowledge or consent. She is therefore guiltless — as guilt- 
 less as the unhappy innocent that but gasped a few minutes 
 in this unhappy world ; the better was its hap to be so soon 
 at rest. She is innocent as that infant, and yet she must die ; 
 it is impossible to clear her of the law ! " 
 
 " Cannot the wretches be discovered and given np to pun- 
 ishment ? " said Jeanie. 
 
 "^ Do you think you will persuade those who are hardened 
 in guilt to die to save another ? Is that the reed you would 
 lean to?" 
 
 " But you said there was a remedy/' again gasped out the 
 terrified young woman. 
 
 " There is," answered the stranger, " and it is in yonr 
 own hands. The blow which the law aims cannot be broken 
 by directly encountering it, but it may be turned aside. You 
 saw your sister during the period preceding the birth of her 
 child ; what is so natural as that she should have mentioned 
 her condition to you ? The doing so would, as their cant 
 goes, take the case from under the statute, for it removes the 
 quality of concealment. I know their jargon, and have had sad 
 cause to know it ; and the quality of concealment is essential 
 to this statutory offence. Nothing is so natural as that Effie 
 should have mentioned her condition to yon ; think — reflect — 
 I am positive that she did." 
 
 " Woe's me ! " said Jeanie, " she never spoke to me on the 
 subject, but grat sorely when I spoke to her about her altered 
 looks and the change on her spirits." 
 
 "You asked her questions on the subject?" he said, 
 eagerly. '''You must remember her answer was a confession 
 that she had been ruined by a villain — yes, lay a strong em- 
 phasis on that — a cruel false villain call it — any other name 
 is unnecessary ; and that she bore under her bosom the con- 
 sequences of his guilt and her folly ; and that he had assured 
 her he would provide safely for her approaching illness. "Well 
 he kept his word ! " These last words he spoke as it were to 
 himself, and with a violent gesture of self-accusation, and 
 then calmly proceeded, " You will remember all this ? That 
 is all that is necessary to be said." 
 
 " But I cannot remember," answered Jeanie, with sim- 
 plicity, ''that which Effie never told me." 
 
 " Are you so dull — so very dull of apprehension ? " he ex- 
 claimed, suddenly grasping her arm, and holding it firm in 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN IK 
 
 his hand. " I tell you [speaking between his teeth, and under 
 his breath, but with great energy], you miist remember that 
 she told YOU all this, whether she ever said a syllable of it or 
 no. You must repeat this tale, in which there is no falsehood, 
 except insofar as it was not told to you. before these Justices 
 — Justiciary — whatever they call their bloodthirsty court, and 
 save your sister from being murdered, and them from becom- 
 ing murderers. Do not hesitate ; I pledge life and salvation, 
 that in saying what I have said, you will only speak the sim- 
 ple truth." 
 
 " But," replied Jeanie, whose Judgment was too accurate 
 not to see the sophistry of this argument, " I shall be man- 
 sworn in the very thing in which my testimony is wanted, for 
 it is the concealment for which poor Effie is blamed, and you 
 would make me tell a falsehood anent it." 
 
 '' I see," he said, " my first suspicions of you were right, 
 and that you will let your sister, innocent, fair, and guiltless, 
 except in trusting a villain, die the death of a murderess, 
 rather than bestow the breath of your mouth and the sound 
 of your voice to save her." 
 
 '' I wad ware the best blood in my body to keep her skaith- 
 less," said Jeanie, weeping in bitter agony ; " but I canna 
 change right into wrang, or make that true which is false." 
 
 "Foolish, hard-hearted girl," said the stranger, "are you 
 afraid of what they may do to you ? I tell you, even the re- 
 tainers of the law, who course life as greyhounds do hares, 
 will rejoice at the escape of a creature so young — so beautiful ; 
 that they will not suspect your tale ; that, if they did suspect 
 it, they would consider you as deserving, not only of forgive- 
 ness, but of praise for your natural affection." 
 
 " It is not man I fear," said Jeanie, looking upward ; " the 
 God, whose name I must call on to witness the truth of what 
 I say. He will know the falsehood." 
 
 " And He will know the motive," said the stranger, eager- 
 ly; "He will know that you are doing this, not for lucre of gain, 
 but to save the life of the innocent and prevent the commission 
 of a worse crime than that which the law seeks to avenge." 
 
 " He has given us a law," said Jeanie, " for the lamp of 
 our path ; if we stray from it we err against knowledge. I 
 may not do evil, even that good may come out of it. But 
 you — you that ken all this to be true, which I must take on 
 your word — you that, if I understood what you said e'en now, 
 promised her shelter and protection in her travail, why do not 
 yo7( step forward and bear leal and soothfast evidence in her 
 behalf, as ye may with a clear conscience ? " 
 
152 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 "Ilo whom do yoti talk of a clear conscience, woman ?** 
 said he, with a sudden fierceness which renewed her terrors — 
 " to me? I have not known one for many a year. Bear wit- 
 ness in her behalf ? — a proper witness, that even to speak these 
 few words to a woman of so little consequence as yourself, 
 must choose such an hour and such a place as this. When 
 you see owls and bats fly abroad, like larks, in the sunshine, 
 you may expect to see such as I am in the assemblies of men. 
 Hush ! listen to that." 
 
 A voice was heard to sing one of those wild and monoto- 
 nous strains so common in Scotland, and to which the natives 
 of that country chant their old ballads. The sound ceased, 
 then came nearer and was renewed ; the stranger listened at- 
 tentively, still holding Jeanie by the arm (as she stood by him 
 in motionless terror), as if to prevent her interrupting the 
 strain by speaking or stirring. When the sounds were renewed, 
 the words were distinctly audible : 
 
 " When the glede's in the blue cloud, 
 The lavrock lies still ; 
 When the hound's in the green-wood, 
 The hind keeps the hill." 
 
 The person who sung kept a strained and powerful voice at 
 its highest pitch, so that it could be heard at a very consider- 
 able distance. As the song ceased, they might hear a stifled 
 sound, as of steps and whispers of jjersons approaching tliem. 
 The song was again raised, but the tune was changed : 
 
 " O sleep ye sound, Sir James, she said, 
 When ye suld rise and ride ? 
 There's twenty men, wi' bow and blade, 
 Are seeking where ye hide."' 
 
 ''I dare stay no longer," said the stranger. "Return 
 home, or remain till they come up, you have nothing to fear ; 
 but do not tell you saw me : your sister's fate is in your 
 hands." So saying, he turned from her, and with a swift 
 yet cautiously noiseless step plunged into the darkness on the 
 side most remote from the sounds which they heard approach- 
 ing, and was soon lost to her sight. Jeanie remained by the 
 cairn terrified beyond expression, and uncertain whether she 
 ought to fly homeward with all tlie speed she could exert, or 
 wait the approach of those who were advancing towards her. 
 This uncertainty detained her so long that she now distinctly 
 saw two or three figures already so near to her that a precipi- 
 tate flight would have been equally fruitless and impolitic. 
 
CHAPTEE XVI 
 
 She speaks things in doubt, 
 That carry but half sense : her speech is nothing, 
 Yet the unshaped use of it doth move 
 The hearers to collection ; they aim at it, 
 And botch the words up to fit their own thoughts. 
 
 Hamlet. 
 
 Like the digressive poet Ariosto, I find myself under the 
 necessity of connecting the branches of my story, by taking 
 up the adventures of another of the characters, and bringing 
 them down to the point at which we have left those of Jeanie 
 Deans. It is not, perhaps, the most artificial way of telling 
 a story, but it has the advantage of sparing the necessity of 
 resuming what a knitter (if stocking-looms have left such a 
 person in the land) might call our "dropped stitches ;" a la- 
 bor in which the author generally toils much, without getting 
 credit for his pains. 
 
 " I could risk a sma' wad," said the clerk to the magistrate, 
 "that this rascal Ratcliffe, if he were insured of his neck's 
 safety, could do more than ony ten of our police-people and 
 constables to help us to get out of this scrape of Porteous's. 
 He is weel acquent wi' a' the smugglers, thieves, and banditti 
 about Edinburgh ; and, indeed, he may be called the father 
 of a' the misdoers in Scotland, for he has passed amang them 
 for these twenty years by the name of Daddie Eat." 
 
 "A bonny sort of a scoundrel," replied the magistrate, 
 "to expect a place under the city !" 
 
 " Begging your honor's pardon," said the city's procura- 
 tor-fiscal, upon whom the duties cf superintendent of police 
 devolved, " Mr. Fairscrieve is perfectly in the right. It is just 
 sic as Eatcliffe that the town needs in my department ; an' if 
 sae be that he's disposed to turn his knowledge to the city 
 service, ye'll no find a better man. Ye'll get nae saints to be 
 searchers for uncustomed goods, or for thieves and sic-like ; 
 and your decent sort of men, religious professors and broken 
 tradesmen, that are put into the like o' sic trust, can do nae 
 gude ava. They are feared for this, and they are scrupulous 
 about that, and they arena free to tell a lie, though it may be 
 
 153 
 
164 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 for the benefit of the city ; and they dinna like to be out at 
 irregular hours, and in a dark cauld night, and they like a 
 clout ower the croun far waur : and sae between the fear o^ 
 God, and the fear o' man, and the fear o' getting a sair throat, 
 or sair banes, there's a dozen o' our city-folk, baith waiters, 
 and officers, and constables, that can find out naething but a 
 wee bit sculduddery for the benefit of the kirk-treasurer. 
 Jock Porteous, that's stiff and stark, puir fallow, was worth 
 a dozen o' them ; for he never had ony fears, or scruples, or 
 doubts, or conscience, about onything your honors bade him." 
 
 " He was a gude servant o' the town," said the bailie, 
 " though he was an ower free-living man. But if you really 
 think this rascal Ratcliife could do us ony service in discover- 
 ing these malefactors, I would insure him life, reward, and 
 promotion. It's an awsome thing this mischance for the 
 city, Mr. Fairscrieve. It will be very ill taen wi' abune stairs. 
 Queen Caroline, God bless her ! is a woman — at least I judge 
 sae, and it's nae treason to speak my mind sae far — and ye 
 maybe ken as weel as I do, for ye hae a housekeeper, though 
 ye arena a married man, that women are wilf u', and downa 
 bide a slight. And it will sound ill in her ears that sic a 
 confused mistake sulci come to pass, and naebody sae muckle 
 as to be put into the tolbooth about it." 
 
 " If ye thought that, sir," said the procurator-fiscal, "we 
 could easily clap into the prison a few blackguards upon sus- 
 picion. It will have a gude active look, and I hae aye plenty 
 on my list, that wadna be a hair the waur of a week or twa's 
 imprisonment ; and if ye thought it no strictly just, ye could 
 be just the easier wi' them the neist time they did onything 
 to deserve it ; they arena the sort to be lang o' gieing ye an 
 opportunity to clear scores wi' them on that account." 
 
 " I doubt that will hardly do in this case, Mr. Sharpit- 
 law," returned the town clerk; "they'll run their letters,* 
 and be adrift again, before ye ken where ye are." 
 
 "I will speak to the Lord Provost," said the magistrate, 
 "about Ratcliffe's business. Mr. Sharpitlaw, you will go 
 with me and receive instructions. Something may be made 
 too out of this story of Butler's and his unknown gentleman. 
 I know no business any man has to swagger about in the 
 King's Park, and call himself the devil, to the terror of hon- 
 est folks, who dinna care to hear mair about the devil than is 
 said from the pulpit on the Sabbath. I cannot think the 
 preacher himsell wad be heading the mob, though the time 
 
 * A Scottish form of procedure, answering, in some respects, to the English 
 Habeas Corpus. 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 15& 
 
 has been tliey hae been as forward in a bruilzie as theii 
 neighbors." 
 
 "But these times are lang bye/' said Mr. Sharpitlaw. 
 " In my father's time there was mair search for silenced min- 
 isters about the Bow-head and the Covenant Close, and all 
 the tents of Kedar, as they ca'd the dwellings o' the godly in 
 those days, than there's now for thieves and vagabonds in the 
 Laigh Calton and the back o' the Canongate. But that 
 time's weel bye, an it bide. And if the bailie will get me 
 directions and authority from the provost, I'll speak wi' 
 Daddie Eat mysell ; for I'm thinking I'll make mair out o' 
 him than ye'll do." 
 
 Mr. Sharpitlaw, being necessarily a man of high trust, was 
 accordingly empowered, in the course of the day, to make such 
 arrangements as might seem in the emergency most advan- 
 tageous for the Good Town. He went to the jail accordingly, 
 and saw Eatcliffe in private. 
 
 The relative positions of a police-officer and a professed 
 thief bear a different complexion according to circumstances. 
 The most obvious simile of a hawk pouncing upon his prey is 
 often least applicable. Sometimes the guardian of justice has 
 the air of a cat watching a mouse, and, while he suspends his 
 purpose of springing upon the pilferer, takes care so to calcu- 
 late his motions that he shall not get beyond his power. 
 Sometimes, more passive still, he uses the art of fascination 
 ascribed to the rattlesnake, and contents himself with glaring 
 on the victim through all his devious flutterings ; certain that 
 his terror, confusion, and disorder of ideas will bring him 
 into his jaws at last. The interview between Eatcliffe and 
 Sharpitlaw had an aspect different from all these. They sat 
 for five minutes silent, on opposite sides of a small table, and 
 looked fixedly at each other, with a sharp, knowing, and alert 
 cast of countenance, not unmingled with an inclination to 
 laugh, and resembled more than anything else two dogs who, 
 preparing for a game at romps, are seen to couch down and 
 remain in that posture for a little time, watching each other's 
 movements, and waiting which shall begin the game. 
 
 ''So, Mr. Eatcliffe," said the officer, conceiving it suited 
 his dignity to speak first, '"'you give up business, I find ?" 
 
 " Yes, sir," replied Eatcliffe ; " I shall be on that lay nae 
 mair ; and I think that will save your folk some trouble, Mr. 
 Sharpitlaw?" 
 
 " Which Jock Dalgleish * [then finisher of the law in the 
 Scottish metropolis] wad save them as easily," returned the 
 procurator-fiscal. 
 
 * See Note 81. 
 
18« WAVE RLE Y NOVELS 
 
 '• Ay ; if I waited in the tolbooth here to have him fit my 
 cravat ; but that's an idle way o' speaking, Mr. Sliarpitlaw." 
 
 " Why, I suppose you know you are under sentence of 
 death, Mr. Ratcliife ? " replied Mr. Sharpitlaw. 
 
 " Ay, so are a', as that worthy minister said in the Tol- 
 booth Kirk the day Robertson wan off ; but naebody kens when 
 it will be executed. Gude faith, he had better reason to say 
 sae than he dreamed of, before the play was played out that 
 morning ! " 
 
 ^*^This Robertson," said Sharpitlaw, in a lower and some- 
 thing like a confidential tone, "d'ye ken. Rat — that is, can 
 ye gie us ony inkling where he is to be heard tell o' ? " 
 
 " Troth, Mr. Sharpitlaw, I'll be frank wi' ye : Robertson 
 is rather a cut abune me. A wild deevil he was, and niony a 
 daft prank he played ; but, except the collector's job that Wil- 
 son led him into, and some tuilzies about run goods wi' the 
 gangers and the waiters, he never did onything that came 
 near our line o' business." 
 
 " Umph ! that's singular, considering the company he 
 kept." 
 
 " Fact, upon my honor and credit," said Ratcliffe, gravely. 
 " He keepit out o' our little bits of affairs, and that's mair than 
 Wilson did ; I liae dune business wi' Wilson afore now. But 
 the lad will come on in time, there's nae fear o' him ; naebody 
 will live the life he has led but what he'll come to sooner or 
 later." 
 
 " Who or what is he, Ratcliffe ? you know, I suppose ?" 
 said Sharpitlaw. 
 
 " He's better born, I judge, than he cares to let on ; he's 
 been a soldier, and he has been a play-actor, and I watna what 
 he has been or hasna been, for as young as he is, sae that it 
 had daffing and nonsense about it." 
 
 ^' Pretty pranks he has played in his time, I suppose ? " 
 
 " Ye may say that," said Ratcliffe, with a sardonic smile ; 
 " and [touching his nose] a deevil amang the lasses." 
 
 " Like enough," said Sharpitlaw. " Weel, Ratcliffe, I'll 
 no stand niffering wi' ye : ye ken the way that favor's gotten 
 in my office ; ye maun be usefu'." 
 
 " Certainly, sir, to the best of my power : naething fornae- 
 thing — I ken the rule of the office," said the ex-depredator. 
 
 "^'Now the principal thing in hand e'en now," said the of- 
 ficial person, " is this job of Porteous's. An ye can gie us a 
 lift — why, the inner turnkey's ofl&ce to begin wi', and the cap- 
 tainship in time ; ye understand my meaning ? " 
 
 ** Ay, troth do I^ sir ; a wink's as gude as a nod to a blmd 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 157 
 
 horse. But Jock Porteous's job — Lord lielpye ! — I was under 
 sentence the haill time. God ! but I couldna help laughing 
 when I heard Jock skirling for mercy in the lads' hands ! 
 ' Mony a het skin ye hae gien me, neighbor/ thought I, *tak 
 ye what's gaun : time about's fair play ; ye'll ken now what 
 hanging's gude for.' " 
 
 " Come, come, this is all nonsense. Eat," said the procura- 
 tor. " Ye canna creep out at that hole, lad ; you must speak 
 to the point, you understand me, if you want favor ; gif-gaf 
 makes gude friends, ye ken." 
 
 " But how can I speak to the point, as your honor ca's it," 
 said Eatcliffe, demurely, and with an air of great simplicity, 
 " when ye ken I was under sentence, and in the strong-room 
 a' the while the job was going on ? " 
 
 " And how can we turn ye loose on the public again, Daddie 
 Eat, unless ye do or say something to deserve it ?" 
 
 " Well, then, d — u it !" answered the criminal, "since it 
 maun be sae, I saw Geordie Eobertson among the boys that 
 brake the jail ; I suppose that will do me some gude ? " 
 
 "That's speaking to the purpose, indeed," said the office- 
 bearer ; "and now. Eat, where think ye we'll find him ?" 
 
 " Deil haet o' me kens," said EatclifPe ; " he'll no likely 
 gang back to ony o' his auld howffs ; he'll be oft' the country 
 by this time. He has gude friends some gate or other, for a' 
 the life he's led ; he's been weel educate." 
 
 " He'll grace the gallows the better," said Mr. Sharpitlaw ; 
 ''' a desperate dog, to murder an officer of the city for doing 
 his duty ! wha kens wha's turn it might be next ? But you saw 
 him plainly ? " 
 
 " As plainly as I see you." 
 
 "How was he dressed ?" said Sharpitlaw. 
 
 " I couldna weel see ; something of a woman's bit mutch on 
 his head ; but ye never saw sic a ca'-throw. Ane couldna hae 
 een to a'thing." 
 
 "But did he speak to no one ?" said Sharpitlaw. 
 
 " They were a' speaking and gabbling through other," said 
 Eatcliffe, who was obviously unwilling to carry his evidence 
 further than he could possibly help. 
 
 "This will not do, Eatcliffe," said the procurator ; " yon 
 must speak out — out — out," tapping the table emphatically, as 
 he repeated that impressive monosyllable. 
 
 "It's very hard, sir," said the prisoner ; "and but for the 
 under turnkey's place " 
 
 " And the reversion of the captaincy — the captaincy of the 
 tolbooth, man — that is, in case of gude behavior." 
 
158 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 ''Ay, ay," said Ratcliffe, "gnde behavior! there's the 
 deevil. And then it's waiting for dead folks' shoon into the 
 bargain." 
 
 " But Robertson's head will weigh something," said Sharp- 
 itlaw — " something gay and heavy. Rat ; the town maun show 
 cause — that's right and reason — and then ye'll hae freedom to 
 enjoy your gear honestly." 
 
 " I dinna ken," said Ratcliffe ; " it's a queer way of be- 
 ginning the trade of honesty — butdeil ma care. Weel, then, 
 I heard and saw him speak to the wench EflBe Deans, thaf s 
 up there for child-murder." 
 
 " The deil ye did ? Rat, this is finding a mare's nest wi'' 
 a witness. And the man that spoke to Butler in the Park, 
 and that was to meet wi' Jeanie Deans at Muschat's Cairn — 
 whew ! lay that and that thegither ! As sure as I live he's 
 been the father of the lassie's wean." 
 
 " There hae been waur guesses than that, I'm thinking," 
 observed Ratcliffe, turning his quid of tobacco in his cheek 
 and squirting out the juice. "I heard something a while 
 syne about his drawing uji wi' a bonny quean about the Pleas- 
 annts, and that it was a' Wilson could do to keep him frae 
 marrying her." 
 
 Here a city officer entered, and told Sharpitlaw that they 
 had the woman in custody whom he had directed them to 
 bring before him. 
 
 " It's little matter now," said he, " the thing is taking 
 another turn ; however, George, ye may bring her in." 
 
 The officer retired, and introduced, ujjon his return, a tall, 
 strapping wench of eighteen or twenty, dressed fantastically, 
 in a sort of blue riding-jacket, Avith tarnished lace, her hair 
 dabbed like that of a man, a Highland bonnet, and a bunch 
 of broken feathers, a riding-skirt (or petticoat) of scarlet cam- 
 let, embroidered with tarnished flowers. Her features were 
 coarse and masculine, yet at a little distance, by dint of very 
 bright wild-looking black eyes, an aquiline nose, and a com- 
 manding profile, appeared rather handsome. She flourished 
 the switcli she held in her hand, dropped a courtesy as low 
 as a lady at a birthnight introduction, recovered herself seem- 
 ingly according to Touchstone's directions to Audrey, and 
 opened the conversation without waiting till any questions 
 were asked. 
 
 '' God gie your honor gude-e'en, and mony o' them, bonny 
 Mr. Sharpitlaw ! Gude e'en to ye, Daddie Ratton ; they 
 tauld me ye were hanged, man ; or did ye get out o' John 
 Dalgleish's hands like half-hangit Maggie Dicifson ?" 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 159 
 
 *' Whisht, ye daft jaud/' said Ratcliffe, '^'^and hear what's 
 said to ye." 
 
 " Wi' a' my heart, Ratton. Great preferment for poor 
 Madge to be brought up the street wi' a grand man, wi' a coat 
 a' passemented wi' worset-lace, to speak wi' provosts, and bai- 
 lies, and town clerks, and prokitors, at this time o' day ; and 
 the haill town looking at me too. This is honor on earth for 
 anes ! " 
 
 ''Ay, Madge," said Mr. Sharpitlaw, in a coaxing tone; 
 " and ye're dressed out in your braws, I see ; these are not 
 your every-day's claiths ye have on ? " 
 
 " Deil be in my fingers, then ! " said Madge. '' Eh, sirs ! 
 [observing Butler come into the apartment], there's a minis- 
 ter in the tolbooth ; vvha will ca' it a graceless place now ? 
 I'se warrant he's in for the gude auld cause ; but it's be nae 
 cause o' mine," and off she went into a song : 
 
 " Hey for cavaliers, ho for cavaliers, 
 Dub a dub, dub a dub ; 
 Have at old Beelzebub, — 
 Oliver's squeaking for fear." 
 
 " Did you ever see that madwoman before ? " said Sharp- 
 itlaw to Butler. 
 
 " Not to my knowledge, sir," replied Butler. 
 
 " I thought as much," said the procurator-fiscal, looking 
 towards Ratcliffe, who answered his glance with a nod of ac- 
 quiescence and intelligence. 
 
 *' But that is Madge Wildfire, as she calls herself," said 
 the man of law to Butler. 
 
 " Ay, that I am," said Madge, " and that I have been 
 ever since I was something better — heigh ho ! [and something 
 like melancholy dwelt on her features for a minute]. But I 
 canna mind when that was ; it was lang syne, at ony rate, and 
 I'll ne'er fash my thumb about it : 
 
 ' ' I glance like the wildfire through country and town ; 
 I'm seen on the causeway — I'm seen on the down ; 
 The lightning that flashes so bright and so free, 
 Is scarcely so blithe or so bonny as me." 
 
 " Hand your tongue, ye skirling limmer ! " said the officer 
 who had acted asmasterof the ceremonies to this extraordinary 
 performer, and who was rather scandalized at the freedom of 
 her demeanor before a person of Mr. Sharpitlaw's importance 
 — *' hand your tongue, or I'se gie ye something to skirl for ! " 
 
 ''Let her alone, George," said Sharpitlaw, "dinna put 
 
160 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 her out o' tune ; I liae some questions to ask her. But first, 
 Mr. Butler, take another look of her." 
 
 " Do sae, minister — do sae," cried Madge ; " I am as weel 
 worth looking at as ony book in your aught. And I can say 
 the Single Carritch, and the Double Carritcli, and justifica- 
 tion, and effectual calling, and the Assembly of Divines at 
 Westminster — that is," she added in a low tone, *' I could say 
 them anes ; but it's langsyne, and aneforgets, yeken." And 
 poor Madge heaved another deep sigh. 
 
 "Weel, sir," said Mr. Sharpitlaw to Butler, "what think 
 ye now ? " 
 
 "As I did before," said Butler; "that I never saw the 
 poor demented creature in my life before." 
 
 " Then she is not the person whom you said the rioters 
 last night described as Madge Wildfire ?" 
 
 " Certainly not," said Butler. " They may be near the 
 same height, for they are both tall ; but I see little other re- 
 semblance." 
 
 " Their dress, then, is not alike ? " said Sharpitlaw. 
 
 "Not in the least," said Butler. 
 
 " Madge, my bonny woman," said Sharpitlaw, in the same 
 coaxing manner, "what did ye do wi' your ilka-day's claise 
 yesterday ? " 
 
 " I diuna mind," said Madge. 
 
 " Where was ye yesterday at e'en, Madge ? " 
 
 " I dinna mind onything about yesterday," answered 
 Madge ; "ae day is eneugh for onybody to wun ower wi' at 
 a time, and ower muckle sometimes." 
 
 " But maybe, Madge, ye wad mind something about it if 
 I was to gie ye this half-crown ? " said Sharpitlaw, taking out 
 the piece of money. 
 
 " That might gar me laugh, but it couldna gar me 
 mind." 
 
 "But, Madge," continued Sharpitlaw, "were I to send 
 you to the warkhouse in Leith Wynd, and gar Jock Dalgieish 
 lay the tawse on your back " 
 
 " That wad gar me greet," said Madge, sobbing, " but it 
 couldna gar me mind, ye ken." 
 
 " She is ower far past reasonable folks' motives, sir," said 
 Eatcliffe, " to mind siller, or John Dalgieish, or the cat and 
 nine tails either ; but I think I could gar her tell us some- 
 thing." 
 
 "Try her, then, Eatcliffe," said Sharpitlaw, "for I ani^ 
 tired of her crazy prate, and be d — d to her." 
 
 "Madge," said Eatcliffe, '- hae ye ony joes now ?" 
 
THE HEART OF .MIDLOTHIAN- 161 
 
 "An onybody ask ye, say ye dinna ken. Set him to be 
 speaking of my joes, auld Daddie Ratton I" 
 
 " I dare say ye hae deil ane ? " 
 
 '' See if 1 liaena, then," said Madge, with the toss of the 
 head of affronted beauty ; '' there's Eob the Ranter, and Will 
 Fleming, and then tliere's Geaixlie Robertson, lad — that's 
 Gentleman Geordie ; wliat think ye o' that ? " 
 
 Ratclift'e laughed, and, winking to tlie procurator-fiscal, 
 pursued the inquiry in his own way. "'But, Madge, the lads 
 only like ye when ye hae on your braws ; they wadna touch 
 you wi' a pair o' tangs when you are in your auld ilka-day 
 rags. '/ 
 
 " Ye're a leeing auld sorrow, then," replied the fair one ; 
 " for Gentle Geordie Robertson put my ilka-day's claise on 
 his ain bonny sell yestreen, and gaed a' through the town wi' 
 them ; and gawsie and grand he lookit, like ony queen in the 
 land." 
 
 "1 dinna believe a word o't," said Ratcliffe, with another 
 wink to the procurator. " Thae duds were a' o' the color o' 
 moonshine in the water, I'm thinking, Madge. The gown 
 wad be a sky-blue scarlet, I'se warrant ye ? " 
 
 " It was nae sic thing," said Madge, whose unretentive 
 memory let out, in the eagerness of contradiction, all that she 
 would have most wished to keep concealed, had her judgment 
 been equal to her inclination. "It was neither scarlet nor 
 sky-blue, but my ain auld brown threshie-coat of a short-gown, 
 and my mother's auld mutch, and my red rokelay ; and he 
 gaed me a croun and a kiss for the use o' them, blessing on 
 his bonny face — though it's been a dear ane to me." 
 
 "And where did he change his clothes again, hinny ?" said 
 Sharpitlaw, in his most conciliatory manner. 
 
 "The procurator's spoiled a'," observed Ratcliffe, dryly. 
 
 And it was even so ; for the question, put in so direct a 
 shape, immediately awakened Madge to the propriety of being 
 reserved upon those very topics on which Ratcliffe had indi- 
 rectly seduced her to become communicative. 
 
 " What was't ye were speering at us, sir ?" she resumed, 
 "^ith an appearance of stolidity, so speedily assumed as showed 
 there was a good deal of knavery mixed with her foiiy. 
 
 "1 asked you," said the procurator, "at what hour, and 
 to what place, Robertson brought back your clothes." 
 
 "Robertson ! Lord baud a care o' us ! what Robertson?" 
 
 " Why, the fellow we were speaking of. Gentle Geordie, 
 as you call him." 
 
 " Geordie Gentle ! " answered Madge, with well-feigned 
 
m WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 amazement. " I dinna ken naebody they ca' Geordie Gen- 
 tle." 
 
 ''^Come, my jo," said Sliarpitlaw, "this will not do ; yon 
 must tell us what you did with these clothes of yours." 
 
 Madge Wildfire made no answer, unless the question may 
 seem connected with the snatch of a song with which she in- 
 dulged the embarrassed investigator : 
 
 " What did ye wi' the bridal ring — bridal ring — ^bridal ring? 
 What did ye wi' your wedding ring, ye little cutty quean, O ? 
 I gied it till a sodger, a sodger, a sodger, 
 I gied it till a sodger, an auld true love o' mine, O." 
 
 Of all the madwomen who have sung and said, since the 
 days of Hamlet the Dane, if Ophelia be the most affecting, 
 Madge Wildfire was the most provoking. 
 
 The procurator-fiscal was in despair. " I'll take some 
 measures with this d — d Bess of Bedlam," said he, " that 
 shall make her find her tongue." 
 
 " Wi' your favor, sir," said Ratcliffe, " better let her mind 
 settle a little. Ye have aye made out something." 
 
 " True," said the official person ; " a brown short-gown, 
 mutch, red rokelay — that agrees with your Madge Wildfire, 
 Mr. Butler?" Butler agreed that it did so. " Yes, there 
 was a sufficient motive for taking this crazy creature's dress 
 and name, while he was about such a job." 
 
 ' ' And I am free to say now " said Ratcliffe. 
 
 " When you see it has come out without you," interrupted 
 Sharpitlaw. 
 
 ''Justsae, sir," reiterated Ratcliffe. "I 'dui free to say 
 now, since it's come out otherwise, that these Avere the clothes 
 I saw Robertson wearing last night in the jail, when he was 
 at the head of the rioters." 
 
 " That's direct evidence," said Sharpitlaw ; '* stick to that. 
 Rat. I will report favorably of you to the provost, for I have 
 business for you to-night. It wears late ; I must home and 
 get a snack, and I'll be back in the evening. Keep Madge 
 with you, Ratcliffe, and try to get her into a good tune again." 
 So saying, he left the prison. 
 
CHAPTER XVII 
 
 And some they whistled, and some they sang, 
 
 And some did loudly say, 
 Whenever Lord Barnard's horn it blew, 
 
 "Away, Musgi'ave, away ! " 
 
 Ballad of Little Musgrave. 
 
 ^V'B.'EN the man of office returned to the Heart of Midlothian, 
 ne resumed his conference with Ratcliffe, of whose experience 
 ind assistance he now held himself secure. " You must speak 
 with this wench, Rat — this Effie Deans — you must sift her 
 a wee bit ; for as sure as a tether she will ken Robertson's 
 haunts ; till her. Rat — till her, without delay." 
 
 " Craving your pardon, Mr. Sharpitlaw," said the turnkey- 
 elect, " that's what I am not free to do." 
 
 *' Free to do, man ! what the deil ails 3^e now ? I thought 
 we had settled a' that." 
 
 " I dinna ken, sir," said Ratcliffe ; " I hae spoken to this 
 Effie. She's strange to this jDlace and to its ways, and to a' 
 our ways, Mr. Sharpitlaw ; and she greets, the silly tawpie, 
 and she's breaking her heart already about this wild chield ; 
 and were she the means o' taking him, she wad break it out- 
 right." 
 
 " She wunna hae time, lad," said Sharpitlaw : '''the woodie 
 will hae its ain o' her before that ; a woman's heart takes a 
 lang time o' breaking." 
 
 " That's according to the stuff they are made o', sir," replied 
 Ratcliffe. " But to make a lang tale short, I canna undertake 
 the job. It gangs against my conscience." 
 
 " Yoi(7' conscience. Rat !" said Sharpitlaw, with a sneer, 
 which the reader will probably think very natural upon the 
 occasion. 
 
 ''Ou ay, sir," answered Ratcliffe, calmly, ''just w?y con- 
 science ; a'body has a conscience, though it may be ill wunnin 
 at it. I think mine's as weel out o' the gate as maist folks' are ; 
 and yet it's just like the noop of my elbow : it whiles gtits a bit 
 dirl on a corner." 
 
164 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 "Weel, Rat/' replied Sharpitlaw, "since ye are nice, I'll 
 speak to the Imssy my sell." 
 
 Sliarpitlaw accordingly caused himself to be introduced 
 into the little dark apartment tenanted by the unfortunate 
 Effie Deans. The poor girl was seated on her little flock-bed, 
 plunged in a deep reverie. Some food stood on the table, of 
 a quality better than is usually supplied to prisoners, but it 
 was untouched. The person under whose care she was more 
 particularly placed said, '* that sometimes she tasted nae thing 
 from the tae end of the four-and-twenty hours to the t'other, 
 except a drink of water." 
 
 Sharpitlaw took a chair, and, commanding the turnkey to 
 retire, he opened the conversation, endeavoring to throw into 
 his tone and countenance as much commiseration as they were 
 capable of expressing, for the one was sharp and harsh, the 
 other si}'', acute, and selfish. 
 
 ''How's a' wi' ye, Effie? How d'ye find yoursell, 
 hinny ? " 
 
 A deep sigh was the only answer. 
 
 " Are the folk civil to ye, Effie ? it's my duty to inquire." 
 
 "Very civil, sir," said Effie, compelling herself to answer, 
 yet hardly knowing what she said. 
 
 " And your victuals," continued Sharpitlaw, in the same 
 condoling tone — "do you get what you like ? or is there ony- 
 tliing you would particularly fancy, as your health seems but 
 silly?" 
 
 " It's a' very weel, sir, I thank ye," said the poor prisoner, 
 in a tone how different from the sportive vivacity of those of 
 the Lily of St. Leonard's ! — " it's a' very gude, ower gude 
 for me." 
 
 "He must have been a great villain, Effie, who brought 
 you to this pass," said Sharpitlaw, 
 
 The remark was dictated partly by a natural feeling, of 
 which even he could not divest himself, though accustomed 
 to practise on the passions of others, and keep a most heedful 
 guard over his o\vi\, and partly by his wish to introduce the 
 sort of conversaiion which might best serve his immediate 
 purpose. Indeed, upon the present occasion these mixed 
 motives of feeling and cunning harmonized together won- 
 derfully ; "for," said SharpitlaAV to himself, "the greater 
 rogue Robertson is, the more will be the merit of bringing 
 him to justice." " He must have been a great villain, in- 
 deed," he again reiterated; "and I wish I had the skelping 
 o' him." 
 
 '^ I may blame mysell mair than him/' said Effie. " I 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN i6e 
 
 was bred up to ken better ; but he, poor fellow " She 
 
 stopped. 
 
 " Was a thorough blackguard a' his life, I dare say," said 
 Shurpitlaw. " A stranger he was in this country, and a com- 
 panion of that lawless vagabond, Wilson, I tliink, Effie ?" 
 
 " It wad hae been dearly telling him that he had ne'er 
 seen Wilson's face." 
 
 ''That's very true that you are saying, Effie," said Sharp- 
 itlaw. " Where was't that Robertson and you used to howff 
 thegither ? Somegate about the Laigh Calton, I am think- 
 ing." 
 
 The simple and dispirited girl had thus far followed Mr. 
 Sharpitlaw's lead because he had artfully adjusted his obser- 
 vations to the thoughts he was 23retty certain must be passing 
 through her own mind, so that her answers became a kind of 
 thinking aloud, a mood into which those who are either con- 
 stitutionally absent in mind, or are rendered so by the tempo- 
 rary pressure of misfortune, may be easily led by a skilful 
 train of suggestions. But the last observation of the procu- 
 rator-fiscal was too much of the nature of a direct interroga- 
 tory, and it broke the charm accordingly. 
 
 ''What was it that I was saying ?" said Effie, starting up 
 from her reclining posture, seating herself upright, and hastily 
 shading her dishevelled hair back from her wasted, but still 
 beautiful, countenance. She fixed her eyes boldly and keenly 
 upon Sharpitlaw — "You are too much of a gentleman, sir — 
 too much of an honest man, to take any notice of what a poor 
 creature like me says, that can hardlv ca'my senses my ain — 
 God help me ! " 
 
 "Advantage ! I would be of some advantage to you if I 
 could," said Sharpitlaw, in a soothing tone ; "and I ken nae- 
 thing sae likely to serve ye, Effie, as gripping this rascal, 
 Robertson." 
 
 " dinna misca' him, sir, that never misca'd you ! Rob- 
 ertson ! I am sure I had naething to say against ony man o' 
 the name, and naething will I say." 
 
 " But if you do not heed your own misfortune, Effie, you 
 should mind what distress he has brought on your family," 
 said the man of law. 
 
 " 0, Heaven help me ! " exclaimed poor Effie. " My poor 
 father — my dear Jeanie ! 0, that's sairest to bide of a' ! 
 0, sir, if you hae ony kindness — if ye hae ony touch of com- 
 passion — for a' the folk I see here are as hard as the wa'- 
 Btanes — if ye wad but bid them let my sister Jeanie in the 
 <iQXl time she ca's I for when I hear them put her awa' frae 
 
186 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 the door, and canna climb up to that high window to see sae 
 muckle as her gown-tail, it's like to pit me out o' my judg- 
 ment." And she looked on him with a face of entreaty so 
 earnest, yet so humble, that she fairly shook the steadfast 
 purpose of his mind. . 
 
 " You shall see your sister," he began, " if you'll tell me" 
 — then interrupting himself, he added, in a more hurried tone 
 — " no, d — n it, you shall see your sister whether you tell me 
 anything or no." So saying, he rose up and left the apart- 
 ment. 
 
 When he had rejoined Ratcliffe, he observed, ''You are 
 right, Ratton ; there's no making much of that lassie. But 
 ae thing I have cleared — that is, that Robertson has been the 
 father of the bairn, and so I will wager a boddle it will be he 
 that's to meet wi' Jeanie Deans this night at Muschat's Cairn, 
 and there we'll nail him. Rat, or my name is not Gideon 
 Sharpitlaw." 
 
 ''But," said Ratcliffe, perhaps because he was in no hurry 
 to see anything which was like to be connected with the dis- 
 covery and apprehension of Robertson, " an that were the case, 
 Mr. Butler wad hae kenn'd the man in the King's Park to be 
 the same person wi' him in Madge Wildfire's claise that headed 
 the mob." 
 
 "That makes nae difference, man," replied Sharpitlaw. 
 " The dress, the light, the confusion, and maybe a touch o' a 
 blackit cork, or a slake o' paint — hout, Ratton, I have seen ye 
 dress your ainsell that the deevil ye belang to durstna hae made 
 oath t'ye." 
 
 "And that's true, too," said Ratcliffe. 
 
 " And besides, ye donnard carle," continued Sharpitlaw, 
 triumphantly, " the minister did say, that he thought he knew 
 something of the features of the birkie that spoke to him in 
 the Park, though he could not charge his memory where or 
 when he had seen them." 
 
 "It's evident, then, your honor will be right," said Rat- 
 cliffe. 
 
 "Then, Rat, you and I will go with the party oursells 
 this night, and see him in grips, or we are done wi' 
 him." 
 
 " I seena muckle use I can be o' to your honor," said Rat- 
 cliffe, reluctantly. 
 
 " Use ! " answered Sharpitlaw. " You can guide the party ; 
 you ken the ground. Besides, I do not intend to quit sight 
 o' you, my good friend, till I have him in hand." 
 
 " Weel, sir," said Ratcliffe, but in no joyful tone of acqui- 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 18% 
 
 escence, " ye maun hae it your ain way ; but mind he's a des- 
 perate man." 
 
 " We shall have that with us/' answered Sharpitlaw, '"^ that 
 will settle him, if it is necessary." 
 
 "But, sir," answered Ratcliffe, "I am sure I couldna un- 
 dertake to guide you to Muschat's Cairn in the night-time ; I 
 ken the place, as mony does, in fair daylight, but how to find 
 it by moonshine, amang sae mony crags and stanes, as like to 
 each other as the collier to the deil, is mair than I can tell. 
 I might as soon seek moonshine in water." 
 
 " What's the meaning o' this, Ratcliffe ?" said Sharpitlaw, 
 while he fixed his eye on the recusant, with a fatal and omi- 
 nous expression. " Have you forgotten that you are still under 
 sentence of death ? " 
 
 "No, sir," said Eatcliffe, "that's a thing no easily put 
 out o' memory ; and if my presence be judged necessary, nae 
 doubt I maun gang wi' your honor. But I was gaun to tell 
 your honor of ane that has mair skeel o' the gate than me, 
 and that's e'en Madge Wildfire." 
 
 " The devil she has ! Do you think me as mad as she is, 
 to trust to her guidance on such an occasion ?" 
 
 " Your honor is the best Judge," answered Ratclifle ; " but 
 I ken I can keep her in tune, and gar her hand the straight 
 path ; she aften sleeps out, or rambles about amang thae hills 
 the haill simmer night, the daftlimmer." 
 
 " Well, Ratcliffe," replied the procurator-fiscal, " if you 
 think she can guide us the right way, but take heed to what 
 you are about, your life depends on your behavior." 
 
 "It's a sair judgment on a man," said Eatcliffe, "Avhen 
 he has ance gane sae far wrang as I hae done that deil a bit 
 he can be honest, try't whilk way he will." 
 
 Such was the reflection of Eatcliffe, when he was left for 
 a few minutes to himself, while the retainer of justice went 
 to procure a proper warrant, and give the necessary direc- 
 tions. 
 
 The rising moon saw the whole party free from the walls 
 of the city, and entering upon the open ground. Arthur's 
 Seat, like a couchaut lion of immense size, Salisbury Crags, 
 like a huge belt oi girdle of granite, were dimly visible. 
 Holding their path along the southern side of the Canongate, 
 they gained the Abbey of Holyrood House, and from thence 
 found their way by step and stile into the King's Park. They 
 were at first four in number — an officer of Justice and Sharp- 
 itlaw, who were well armed with pistols and cutlasses ; Eat- 
 cliffe, who was not trusted with weapons, lest he might, per- 
 
166 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 adventure, have used them on the wrong side ; and the 
 female. But at the last stile, when they entered the chase, 
 they were joined by other two officers, whom Sharpitlaw, de- 
 sirous to secure sufficient force for his purpose, and at the 
 same time to avoid observation, had directed to wait for him 
 at this place. Ratcliffe saw this accession of strength with 
 some disquietude, for he had hitherto thought it likely that 
 Robertson, who was a bold, stout, and active young fellow, 
 miglit have made his escape from Sharpitlaw and the single 
 officer, by force or agility, without his being implicated in 
 the matter. But the present strength of the followers of jus- 
 tice was overpowering, and the only mode of saving Robert- 
 son, which the old sinner was well disposed to do, providing 
 always he could accomplish his purpose without compro- 
 mising his own safety, must be by contriving that he should 
 have some signal of their approach. It was probably with 
 this view that Ratcliffe had requested the addition of Madge 
 to the party, having considerable confidence in her propensity 
 to exert her lungs. Indeed, she had already given them so 
 many specimens of her clamorous loquacity, that Sharpitlaw 
 half determined to send her back with one of the officers, 
 rather than carry forward in his company a person so ex- 
 tremely ill qualified to be a guide in a secret expedition. 
 It seemed, too, as if the open air, the approach to the hills, 
 and the ascent of the moon, supjoosed to be so portentous 
 over those whose brain is infirm, made her spirits rise in a 
 degree tenfold more loquacious than she had hitherto ex- 
 hibited. To silence her by fair means seemed impossible ; 
 authoritative commands and coaxing entreaties she set alike 
 at defiance ; and threats only made her sulky, and altogether 
 intractable. 
 
 " Is there no one of you," said Sharpitlaw, impatiently, 
 " that knows the way to this accursed place — this Nicol Mus- 
 chat's Cairn — excepting this mad clavering idiot?" 
 
 " Deil ane o^ them kens it, except mysell," exclaimed 
 Madge ; "how suld they, the poor fule cowards ? But I hae 
 sat on the grave f rae bat-fieeing time till cock-crow, and had 
 mony a fine crack wi" Nicol Muschat, and Ailie Muschat, that 
 are lying sleeping below." 
 
 " The devil take your crazy brain," said Sharpitlaw ; " will 
 yon not allow the men to answer a question ?" 
 
 The officers, obtaining a moment's audience while Rat- 
 cliffe diverted Madge's attention, declared, that though they 
 had a general knowledge of the spot, they could not un- 
 dertake to guide the party to it by the uncertain light of the 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 169 
 
 moon, with such accuracy as to insure success to their ex- 
 pedition. 
 
 " What shall we do, Ratcliffe ? " said Sharpitlaw. " If he 
 sees us before we see him — and that's what he is certain to do, 
 if wo go strolling about, without keeping the straight road — 
 we may bid gude day to the job ; and I wad rather lose one 
 hundred pounds, baitli for the credit of the police, and be- 
 cause the Provost says somebody maun be hanged for this job 
 o' Porteous, come o't what likes." 
 
 "I think," said Ratcliffe, "we maun just try Madge ; and 
 I'll see if I can get her keepit in ony better order. And at 
 ony rate, if he suld hear her skirling her auld ends o'sangs, 
 he's no to ken for that that there's onybody wi' her." 
 
 "That's true," said Sharpitlaw ; " and if he thinks her alone 
 he's as like to come towards her as to rin frae her. So set 
 forward, we hae lost ower muckle time already ; see to get her 
 to keep the right road." 
 
 " And what sort o' house does Nicol Muschat and his wife 
 keep now ? " said Ratcliffe to the mad woman, by way of hu- 
 moring her vein of folly ; " they were but thrawn folk lung 
 syne, an a' tales be true." 
 
 " Ou, ay, ay, ay ; but a's forgotten now," replied Madge, 
 in the confidential tone of a gossip giving the history of her 
 next-door neighbor. "Ye see, I spoke to them mysell, and 
 tauld them byganes suld be byganes. Her throat's sair mis- 
 guggled and mashackered, though ; she wears her corpse-sheet 
 drawn weel up to hide it, but that canna hinder the bluid 
 seiping through, ye ken. I wussed her to wash it in St. An- 
 thony's Well, and that will cleanse if onything can. But they 
 say bluid never bleaches out o' linen claith. Deacon Sanders's 
 new cleansing draps M^inna do't; I tried them mysell on a bit 
 rag we hae at hame, that was mailed v\d' the bluid of a bit skirl- 
 ing wean that was hurt some gate, but out it winna come. 
 Weel, ye'll say that's queer ; but I will bring it out to St. 
 Anthony's blessed Well some braw night just like this, and 
 I'll cry up Ailie Muscluit, and she and I will hae a grand 
 bouking-washing, and bleacli our claise in the beams of the 
 bonny Lady Moon, that's far pleasanter to me than the sun ; 
 the sun's ower het, and ken ye, cummers, my brains are het 
 eneugh already. But the moon, and the dew, and the night- 
 wind, they are just like a caller kail-blade laid on my brow ; 
 and whiles I think the moon just shines on purpos^e to pleasure 
 me, when naebody sees her but mysell." 
 
 This raving discourse slie continued with prodigious vol- 
 ubility, walking on at a great pace, and dragging Eatcliffe 
 
170 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 along with her while he endeavored, in appearance at least, if 
 not in reality, to induce her to moderate her voice. 
 
 All at once she stopped short upon the top of a little hillock, 
 gazed upward fixedly, and said not one word for the space of 
 five minutes. " What the devil is the matter with her now ? " 
 said Sharpitlaw to Eatcliff e. ' ' Can you not get her forward ? " 
 
 " Ye maun just take a grain o' joatience wi' her, sir," said 
 Ratcliffe. " She'll no gae a foot faster than she likes her- 
 sell." 
 
 " D — n her," said Sharpitlaw, ''I'll take care she has her 
 time in Bedlam or Bridewell, or both, for she's both mad and 
 mischievous." 
 
 In the meanwhile, Madge, who had looked very pensive 
 when she first stopped, suddenly burst into a vehement fit of 
 laughter, then paused and sighed bitterly, then was seized 
 with a second fit of laughter, then, fixing her eyes on the 
 moon, lifted up her voice and sung — 
 
 ' ' Good even, good fair moon, good even to thee ; 
 I prithee, dear moon, now show to me 
 The form and the features, the speech and degree, 
 Of the man that true lover of mine shall be. 
 
 But I need not ask that of the bonny Lady Moon ; I ken that 
 weel eneugh mysell — /rwe-love though he wasna. But nae- 
 body shall say that I ever tauld a word about the matter. 
 But whiles I wish the bairn had lived. Weel, God guide us, 
 there's a heaven aboon us a' [here she sighed bitterly], and a 
 bonny moon, and sterns in it forbye," and here she laughed 
 once more. 
 
 " Are we to stand here all night ?" said Sharpitlaw, very 
 impatiently. " Drag her forward." 
 
 "Ay, sir," said Ratcliffe, "if we kenn'd whilk way to drag 
 her that would settle it at ance. Come, Madge, hinny," ad- 
 dressing her, "we'll no be in time to see Nicol and his wife 
 unless ye show us the road." 
 
 " In troth and that I will, Ratton," said she, seizing him 
 by the arm, and resuming her route with huge strides, con- 
 sidering it was a female who took them. "And I'll tell ye, 
 Ratton, blithe will Nicol Muschat be to see ye, for he says he 
 kens weel there isna sic a villain out o' hell as ye are, and he 
 wad be ravished to hae a crack wi' you — like to like, ye ken 
 — it's a proverb never fails ; and ye are baith a pair o' the 
 deevil's peats, I trow — hard to ken whilk deserves the hettest 
 corner o' his ingle-side." 
 
 RatclifEe was conscience-struck, and could not forbear 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 171 
 
 making an involuntary protest against this classification. 
 " I never shed blood," he replied. 
 
 '' But ye hae sauld it, Ratton — yehae sauld blood mony a 
 time. Folk kill wi' the tongue as weel as wi' the hand — vri' 
 the word as weel as wi' the gulley ! — 
 
 " It is the bonny butcher lad, 
 
 That wears the sleeves of blue. 
 He sells the flesh on Saturday, 
 On Friday tliat he slew." 
 
 " And what is that I am doing now ?" thought Ratcliffe. 
 " But I'll hae nae wyte of Robertson's young biuid, if I can 
 help it." Then speaking apart to Madge, he asked her, 
 " Whether she did not remember ony o' her auld sangs ? " 
 
 " Mony a dainty ane," said Madge ; " and blithely can I 
 sing them, for lightsome sangs make merry gate." And she 
 sung — 
 
 " When the glede's in the blue cloud, 
 The lavrock lies still ; 
 When the hound's in the green-wood. 
 The hind keeps the hill." 
 
 "Silence her cursed noise, if you should throttle her," 
 said Sharpitlaw ; "I see somebody yonder. Keep close, my 
 boys, and creep round the shoulder of the height. George 
 Poinder, stay you with Ratclifl'e and that mad yelling bitch ; 
 and you other two, come with me round under the shadow of 
 the brae." 
 
 And he crept forward with the stealthy pace of an Indian 
 savage, who leads his band to surprise an unsuspecting party 
 of some hostile tribe. Ratcliffe saw them glide off, avoiding 
 the moonlight, and keeping as much in the shade as possible. 
 " Robertson's done up," said he to himself ; " thae young lads 
 are aye sae thoughtless. What deevil could he hae to say to 
 Jeanie Deans, or to ony woman on earth, that he suld gang 
 awa' and get his neck raxed for her ? And this mad quean, 
 after cracking like a pen-gun and skirling like a pea-hen for 
 the haill night, behoves Just to hae hadden her tongue when 
 her clavers might have done some gude I But it's aye the 
 way wi' women ; if they ever hand their tongues ava, ye may 
 swear it's for mischief. I wish I could set her on again with- 
 out this blood-sucker kenning what I am doing. But he's 
 as gleg as MacKeachan's elshin, that ran through sax plies of 
 bend-leather and half an inch into the king's heel." 
 
 He then began to hum, but in a very low and suppressed 
 tone, the first stanza of a favorite ballad of Wildfire's, the 
 
173 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 words of which bore some distant analogy with the situation 
 of Robertson, trusting that the power of association would not 
 fail to bring the rest to her mind : 
 
 " There's a bloodhound ranging Tinwald wood, 
 There's harness glancing sheen ; 
 There's a maiden sits on Tinwald brae, 
 And she sings loud between." 
 
 Madge had no sooner received the catchword than she 
 yindicated Ratcliffe's sagacity by setting off at score with tiie 
 song : 
 
 " O sleep ye sound, Sir James, she said, 
 When ye suld rise and ride ? 
 There's twenty men, wi' bow and blade. 
 Are seeking where ye hide. " 
 
 Though Eatcliffe was at a considerable distance from the 
 spot called Muschat's Cairn, yet his eyes, practised like those 
 of a cat to penetrate darkness, could mark that Robertson 
 had caught the alarm. George Poinder, less keen of sight 
 or less attentive, was not aware of his flight any more than 
 Sharpitlaw and his assistants, whose view, though they were 
 considerably nearer to the cairn, was intercepted by the broken 
 nature of the ground under which they were screening them- 
 selves. At length, however, after the interval of five or six 
 minutes, they also perceived that Robertson had fled, and 
 rushed hastily towards the place, while Sharpitlaw called out 
 aloud, in the harshest tones of a voice which resembled a 
 saw-mill at work, " Chase, lads — chase — hand the brae ; I 
 see him on the edge of the hill ! " Then hallooing back to 
 the rear-guard of his detachment, he issued his further orders : 
 •• Ratcliffe, come here and detain the woman ; George, run 
 and keep the stile at the Duke's Walk ; Ratcliffe, come here 
 directly, but first knock out that mad bitch's brains ! " 
 
 " Ye had better rin for it, Madge," said Ratcliffe, "for 
 it's ill dealing wi' an angry man." 
 
 Madge Wildfire was not so absolutely void of cortimon sense 
 as not to understand this innuendo ; and while Ratcliffe, in 
 seemingly anxious haste of obedience, hastened to the spot 
 where Sharpitlaw waited to deliver up Jeanie Deans to his 
 custody, she fled with all the despatch she could exert in an 
 opposite direction. Thus the whole party were separated, 
 and in rapid motion of flight or pursuit, excepting Ratcliffe 
 and Jeanie, whom, although making no attempt to escape, 
 he held fast by the cloak, and who remained standing by 
 Muschat's Cairn 
 
CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 You have paid the heavens your function, and the prisoner the 
 very debt of your calling. 
 
 Measure for Measure. 
 
 Jeanie Deans — for here our story unites itself with that part 
 of the narrative which hroke oft' at the end of tlie fifteenth 
 chapter — while she waited, in terror and amazement, the hasty 
 advance of three or four men towards her, was yet more startled 
 at their suddenly breaking asunder, and giving chase in dif- 
 ferent directions to the late object of her terror, who became 
 at that moment, though she could not well assign a reasonable 
 cause, rather the cause of her interest. One of the party — it 
 was Sharpitlaw — came straight up to her, and saying, " Your 
 name is Jeanie Deans, and you are my prisoner, '' immediately 
 added, " but if you will tell me which way he ran I will let 
 you go." 
 
 " I dinna ken, sir," was all the poor girl could utter ; and, 
 indeed, it is the phrase which rises most readily to the lips of 
 any person in her rank, as the readiest reply to any embar- 
 rassing question. 
 
 " But," said Sharpitlaw, " ye ken wha it was ye were speak- 
 ing wi', my leddy, on the hillside, and midnight sae near ; ye 
 surely ken that, my bonny woman ? " 
 
 "I dinna ken, sir," again iterated Jeanie, who really did 
 not comprehend in her terror the nature of the questions which 
 were so hastily put to her in this moment of surprise. 
 
 " We will try to mend your memory by and by, hinny," 
 said Sharpitlaw, and shouted, as we have already told tlie 
 reader, to Ratcliffe to come up and take charge of her, while 
 he himself directed the chase after Robertson, which he still 
 hoped might be successful. As Ratcliffe approached, Sharpit- 
 law pushed the young woman towards him with some rudeness, 
 and betaking himself to the more important object of his 
 quest, began to scale crags and scramble up steep banks, with 
 an agility of which his profession and his general gravity of 
 demeanor would previously have argued him incapable. In a 
 few minutes there was no one within sight, and only a distant 
 halloo from one of the pursuers to the other, faintly heard on 
 the side of the hill, argued that there was any one within 
 
174 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 hearing. Jeanie Deans was left in the clear moonlight, stand- 
 ing under the guard of a person of whom she knew nothing, 
 and, what was worse, concerning whom, as the reader is well 
 aware, she could have learned nothing that would not have in- 
 creased her terror. 
 
 When all in the distance was silen t, Eatcliffe for the first 
 time addressed her, and it was in that cold sarcastic indiffer- 
 ent tone famili;'.r to habitual depravity, whose crimes are in- 
 stigated by custom rather than by passion. "This is a braw 
 night for ye, dearie," he said, attempting to pass his arm 
 across her shoulder, " to be on the green hill wi' your jo." 
 Jeanie extricated herself from his grasp, but did not make 
 any reply. "I think lads and lasses," continued the ruffian, 
 " dinna meet at Muscliat's Cairn at midnight to crack nuts," 
 and he again attempted to take hold of her. 
 
 " If ye are an officer of justice, sir," said Jeanie, again 
 eluding his attempt to seize her, " ye deserve to have your 
 coat stripped from your back." 
 
 " Very true, hinny," said he, succeeding forcibly in his at- 
 tempt to get hold of her, '''but suppose I should strip your 
 cloak off first?" 
 
 " Ye are more a man, I am sure, than to hurt me, sir," 
 said Jeanie ; " for God^s sake have pity on a half -distracted 
 creature ! " 
 
 ''Come, come," said Ratcliffe, "you're a good-looking 
 wench, and should not be cross-grained. I was going to bo 
 an honest man, but the devil has this very day flung first a 
 lawyer and then a woman in my gate. I'll tell you what, 
 Jeanie, they are out on the hillside ; if you'll be guided by 
 me, I'll carry you to a wee bit corner in the Pleasauuts that I 
 ken o' in an auid wife's, that a' the prokitors o' Scotland wot 
 naetliing o', and we'll send Robertson word to meet us in 
 Yorksiiire, for there is a set o' braw lads about the midland 
 counties, that I hae dune business wi' before now, and sae 
 we'll leave Mr. Sharpitlaw to whistle on his thumb." 
 
 It was fortunate for Jeanie, in an emergency like the 
 present, that she possessed presence of mind and courage, so 
 soon as the first hurry of surprise had enabled her to rally her 
 recollection. She saw the risk she was in from a ruffian, who 
 not only was such by profession, but had that evening been 
 stupefying, by means of strong liquors, the internal aversion 
 which he felt at the business on which Sharpitlaw had re- 
 solved to employ him. 
 
 "Dinna speak sae loud," said she, in a low voice, "he's 
 up yonder." 
 
THE HEAR! OF MIDLOTHIAN 175 
 
 **Who ? Robertson ? " said Ratcliffe, eagerly. 
 
 " Ay," replied Jeanie — " up yonder ; " and she pointed to 
 the ruins of the hermitage and chapel. 
 
 "By Of — d, then/' said Ratclifl:e, ''I'll make my ain of 
 him, either one way or other ; wait for me here." 
 
 But no sooner had he set off, as fast as he could run, towards 
 the chapel, than Jeanie started in an opposite direction, over 
 high and low, on the nearest path homeward. Her juvenile 
 exercise as a herdswoman had put " life and mettle" in her 
 heels, and never had she followed Dustiefoot, wlien the cows 
 were in the corn, with half so much speed as she now cleared 
 the distance betwixt Muschat's Cairn and her father's cottage 
 at St. Leonard's. To lift the latch, to enter, to shut, bolt, 
 and double bolt the door, to draw against it a heavy article 
 of furniture, which she could not have moved in a moment 
 of less energy, so as to make yet further provision against 
 violence, was almost the work of a moment, yet done with such 
 silence as equalled the celerity. 
 
 Her next anxiety was upon her father's account, and she 
 drew silently to the door of his apartment, in order to satisfy 
 herself whether he had been disturbed by her return. He was 
 awake — probably had slept but little ; but the constant presence 
 of his own sorrows, the distance of his apartment from the 
 outer door of the house, and the precautions which Jeanie had 
 taken to conceal her departure and return, had prevented him 
 from being sensible of either. He was engaged in his devotions, 
 and Jeanie could distinctly hear him use these words : " And 
 for the other child Thou hast given me to be a comfort and 
 stay to my old age, may her days be long in the land, according 
 to the promise Thou hast given to those who shall honor 
 father and mother ; may all her purchased and promised bless- 
 ings be multiplied upon her ; keep her in the watches of the 
 night, and in the uprising of the morning, that all in this land 
 may know that Thou hast not utterly hid Thy face from those 
 that seek Thee in truth and in sincerity." He was silent, but 
 probably continued his petition in the strong fervency of mental 
 devotion. 
 
 His daughter retired to her apartment, comforted, that 
 while she was exposed to danger, her head had been covered 
 by the prayers of the just as by a helmet, and under the 
 strong confidence that, while she walked worthy of the pro- 
 tection of Heaven, she would experience its countenance. It 
 was in that moment that a vague idea first darted across her 
 mind, that something might yet be achieved for her sister's 
 safety, conscious as she now was of her innocence of the un- 
 
176 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 natural murder with which she stood charged. It came, as 
 she described it, on her mind like a sun-blink on a stormy 
 sea ; and although it instantly vanished, yet she felt a degree 
 of composure which she had not experienced for many days, 
 and could not help being strongly persuaded that, by some 
 means or other, she would be called upon and directed to work 
 out her sister's deliverance. She went to bed, not forgetting 
 her usual devotions, the more fervently made on account of 
 her late deliverance, and she slept soundly in spite of her 
 agitation. 
 
 We must return to Ratcliffe, who had started, like a grey- 
 hound from the slips when the sportsman cries halloo, so soon 
 as Jeanie had pointed to the ruins. Whether he meant to 
 aid Eobertson's escape or to assist his pursuers may be very 
 doubtful ; perhaps he did not himself know, but had resolved 
 to be guided by circumstances. He had no opportunity, how- 
 ever, of doing either ; for he had no sooner surmounted the 
 steep ascent, and entered under the broken arches of the ruins, 
 than a pistol was presented at his head, and a harsh voice com- 
 manded him, in the king's name, to surrender himself pris- 
 oner. 
 
 " Mr. Sharpitlaw ! " said Ratcliffe, surprised, " is this your 
 honor ?" 
 
 "Is it only you, and be d — d to you ? " answered the fiscal, 
 still more disappointed ; " what made you leave the woman ?" 
 
 "She told me she saw Robertson go into the ruins, so I 
 made what haste I could to cleek the callant." 
 
 "It's all over now," said Sharpitlaw, "we shall see no 
 more of him to-night ; but he shall hide himself in a bean-hool, 
 if he remains on Scottish ground without my finding him. 
 Call back the people, Ratcliffe." 
 
 Ratcliffe hallooed to the dispersed officers, who willingly 
 obeyed the signal ; for probably there was no individual among 
 them who would have been much desirons of -a, reticontre hand 
 to liand, and at a distance from his comrades, with such an 
 aotive and desperate fellow as Robertson. 
 
 "And where are the two women ? " said Sharpitlaw. 
 
 " Both made their heels serve them, I suspect," replied 
 Ratcliffe, and he hummed the end of the old song — 
 
 " Then hey play up the rin-awa' bride, 
 For slie has taen the gee." 
 
 " One woman," said Sharpitlaw, for, like all rogues, he was 
 a great calumniator of the fair sex * — " one woman is enough 
 
 * bee Note i2. 
 
TEE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 177 
 
 to dark the fairest ploy that ever was planned ; and how conld 
 I be such an ass as to expect to carry through a job that had 
 two in it ? But we know how to come by them both, if they 
 are wanted, that's one good thing." 
 
 Accordingly, like a defeated general, sad and sulky, he led 
 back his discomfited forces to the metropolis, and dismissed 
 t-hem for the night. 
 
 The next morning early, he was under the necessity of 
 making his report to the sitting magistrate of the day. The 
 gentleman who occupied the chair of oflBce on this occasion, 
 for the bailies {Anglice, aldermen) take it by rotation, 
 chanced to be the same by whom Butler was committed, a 
 person very generally respected among his fellow-citizens. 
 Something he was of a humorist, and rather deficient in gen- 
 eral education ; but acute, patient, and upright, possessed of 
 a fortune acquired by honest industry, which made him per- 
 fectly independent ; and, in short, very happily qualified to 
 support the respectability of the office wfiich he held. 
 
 Mr. Middleburgh had just taken his seat, and was debat- 
 ing in an animated manner, with one of his colleagues, the 
 doubtful chances of a game at golf which they had played the 
 day before, when a letter was delivered to him, addressed 
 •' For Bailie Middleburgh — These : to be forwarded with 
 speed." It contained these words : 
 
 ''SiK, 
 
 "I know you to be a sensible and a considerate magis- 
 trate, and one who, as such, will be content to worship God 
 though the devil bid you. I therefore expect that, not- 
 withstanding the signature of this letter acknowledges my 
 share in an action which, in a proper time and place, I 
 would not fear either to avow or to justify, you will not on 
 that account reject what evidence I place before you. The 
 clergyman, Butler, is innocent of all but involuntary presence 
 at an action which he wanted spirit to approve of, and from 
 which he endeavored, with his best set phrases, to dissuade ns. 
 But it was not for him that it is my hint to speak. There is 
 a woman in your jail, fallen under the edge of a law so 
 cruel that it has hung by the wall, like unsecured armor, for 
 twenty years, and is now brought down and whetted to spill 
 the blood of the most oeautiful and most innocent creature 
 whom the Avails of a prison ever girdled in. Her sister knows 
 of lier innocence, as she communicated to her that she was 
 betrayed by a villain. that high Heaven 
 
 " Would put m every honest hand a whip. 
 To scourge me such a villain through th« w«rld I 
 
178 WAVERLEV NOVELS 
 
 '* I write distractedly. Bnt this girl — this Jeanie Deans, 
 is a peevish Puritan, superstitious and scrupulous after the 
 manner of her sect ; and I pray your honor, for so my phrase 
 must go, to press uj)ou her that her sister's life depends upon 
 her testimony. But though she should remain silent, do not 
 dare to think that the young woman is guilty, far less to permit 
 her execution. Remember, the death of Wilson was fearfully 
 avenged ; and those yet live who can compel you to drink the 
 dregs of your poisoned chalice. I say, remember Porteous — 
 and say that you had good counsel from 
 
 " One of his Slayeks." 
 
 The magistrate read over this extraordinary letter twice or 
 thrice. At first he was tempted to throw it aside as the pro- 
 duction of a madman, so little did " the scraps from playbooks,^' 
 as he termed the poetical quotation, resemble the correspond- 
 ence of a rational being. On a re-perusal, however, he 
 thought that, amid its incoherence, he could discover some- 
 thing like a tone of awakened passion, though expressed in a 
 manner quaint and unusual. 
 
 '^ It is a cruelly severe statute," said the magistrate to his 
 assistant, " and I wish the girl could be taken from under the 
 letter of it. A child may have been born, and it may have 
 been conveyed away while the mother was insensible, or it may 
 have perished for want of that relief which the J)00Y creature 
 herself — helpless, terrified, distracted, despairing, and ex- 
 hausted — may have been unable to afford to it. And yet it is 
 certain, if the woman is found guilty under the statute, execu- 
 tion will follow. The crime has been too common, and examples 
 are necessary." 
 
 " But if this other wench," said the city clerk, " can speak 
 to her sister communicating her situation, it will take the case 
 from under the statute." 
 
 " Very true," rejjlied the bailie ; " and I will walk out one 
 of these days to St. Leonard's and examine the girl myself. I 
 know something of their father Deans — an old true-blue Came- 
 ronian, who would see house and family go to wreck ere he would 
 disgrace his testimony by a sinful complying with the defections 
 of the times ; and such he will probably uphold the taking an 
 oath before a civil magistrate. If they are to go on and flourish 
 with their bull-headed obstinacy, the legislature must pass an 
 act to take their affirmations, as in the case of Quakers. But 
 surely neither a father nor a sister will scruple in a case of 
 this kind. As I said before, I will go speak with them myself, 
 when the hurry of this Porteous investi^arioii is somewhat over " 
 
THE HEART o^'^ MIDLOTHIAN l79 
 
 their pride and spirit of contradiction will be far less alarmed 
 than if they were called into a court of justice at once/^ 
 
 " And I suppose Butler is to remain incarcerated ?" said 
 the city clerk. 
 
 " For the present, certainly," said the magistrate. " But 
 I hope soon to set him at liberty upon bail.''' 
 
 "Do yon rest upon the testimony of that light-headed 
 letter ? " asked the clerk. 
 
 "Not very much," answered the bailie; "and yet there 
 is something striking about it too ; it seems the letter of a 
 man beside himself, either from great agitation or some great 
 sense of guilt." 
 
 " Yes," said the town clerk, " it is very like the letter of 
 a mad strolling play-actor, who deserves to be hanged with 
 all the rest of his gang, as your honor justly observes." 
 
 " I was not quite so bloodtliirsty," continued the magis- 
 trate. " But to the point. Butler's private character is ex- 
 cellent ; and I am given to understand, by some inquiries I 
 have been making this morning, that he did actually arrive 
 in town only the day before yesterday, so that it was impossi- 
 ble he could have been concerned in any previous machina- 
 tions of these unhappy rioters, and it is not likely that he 
 should have joined them on a suddenly." 
 
 " There's no saying anent that ; zeal catches fire at a 
 slight spark as fast as a brunstane match," observed the sec- 
 retary. " I hae kenn'd a minister wad be fair gude-day and 
 fair gude-e'en wi' ilka man in the parochine, and hing just 
 as quiet as a rocket on a stick, till ye mentioned the word 
 abjuration oath, or patronage, or sic-like, and then, whiz, he 
 was off, and up in the air an hundred miles beyond common 
 manners, common sense, and common comprehension." 
 
 "I do not understand," answered the burgher magistrate, 
 " that the young man Butler's zeal is of so inflammable a 
 character. But I will make further investigation. What 
 other business is there before us ?" 
 
 And they proceeded to minute investigations concerning 
 the affair of Porteous's death, and other affairs through 
 which this history has no occasion to trace them. 
 
 In the course of their business they were interrupted by 
 an old woman of the lower rank, extremely haggard in look 
 and wretched in her apparel, who thrust herself into the 
 council room. 
 
 " What do you want, gudewife ? Who are you?" said 
 Bailie Middleburgh. 
 
 "What do I want !" replied she, in a sulky tone **J 
 
180 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 want my bairn, or I want naething frae nane o* ye, for as 
 grand's ye are." And she went on muttering to herself, with 
 the wayward spitefulness of age — " They maun hae lordships 
 and honors nae doubt ; set them np, the gutter-bloods ! and 
 deil a gentleman amang them." Then again addressing the 
 sitting magistrate — " Will you?^ honor gie me back my puir 
 crazy bairn ? His honor ! I hae kenn'd the day when less 
 wad ser'd him, the oe of a Campvere skipper." 
 
 '^ Good woman," said the magistrate to this shrewish sup- 
 plicant, '' tell us what it is you want, and do not interrupt 
 the court." 
 
 " That's as muckle as till say, ' Bark, Bawtie, and be dune 
 wi't ! ' I tell ye," raising her termagant voice, " I want my 
 bairn ! is na that braid Scots ?" 
 
 " Who are you ? who is your bairn ? " demanded the magis- 
 trate. 
 
 *' Wha am I ? Wha suld I be, but Meg Murdockson, and 
 wha suld my bairn be but Magdalen Murdockson ? Your guard 
 soldiers, and your constables, and your officers ken us weel 
 eneugh when they rive the bits o' duds afl our backs, and take 
 what penny o' siller we hae, and harle us to the correction- 
 house in Leith Wynd, and pettle us up wi' bread and water, 
 and sic-like sunkets." 
 
 " Who is she ? " said the magistrate, looking round to some 
 of his people. 
 
 " Other than agudeane, sir," said one of the city officers, 
 shrugging his shoulders and smiling. 
 
 " Will ye say sae ? " said the termagant, her eye gleaming 
 with impotent fury ; " an I had ye amang the Frigate Whins, 
 wadna I set my ten talents in your wuzzentface for that very 
 word ? " and she suited the word to the action, by spreading 
 out a set of claws resembling those of St. George's dragon on 
 a country sign-post. 
 
 "What does she want here ?" said the impatient magis- 
 trate. " Can she not tell her business, or go away ?" 
 
 '' It's ray bairn — it's Magdalen Murdockson I'm wantin','* 
 answered the beldam, screaming at the highest pitch of her 
 cracked and mistuned voice ; '' havena I been tellin' ye sae 
 this half-hour ? And if ye are deaf, what needs ye sit cockit 
 up there, and keep folk scraughin' t'ye this gate ? " 
 
 " She wants her daughter, sir," said the same officer whose 
 interference had given the hag such offence before — " her 
 daughter, who was taken up last night — Madge Wildfire, as 
 they ca' her." 
 
 " Madge Hellfiee, as they ca' her ! " echoed the beldam : 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 18v 
 
 " and what business has a blackguard like you to ca' an honest 
 woman's bairn out o' her ain name ? " 
 
 " An 7io«es^ woman's bairn, Maggie ?" answered the peace- 
 officer, smiling and shaking his head with an ironical emphasis 
 on the adjective, and a calmness calculated to provoke to mad- 
 ness the furious old shrew. 
 
 " If I am no honest now, I was honest ance," she replied ; 
 " and that's mair than ye can say, ye born and bred thief, that 
 never kenn'd ither folks' gear frae your ain since the day ye 
 was cleckit. Honest, say ye ? Ye pykit your mother's pouch 
 o' twal pennies Scotch when ye were five years auld, just as she 
 was taking leave o' your father at the fit o' the gallows." 
 
 '' She has you there, George," said the assistants, and there 
 was a general laugh ; for the wit was fitted for the meridian of 
 the place where it was uttered. This general applause some- 
 what gratified the passions of the old hag ; the '^ grim feature " 
 smiled, and even laughed, but it was a laugh of bitter scorn. 
 She condescended, however, as if aj^peased by the success of 
 her sally, to explain her business more distinctly, when the 
 magistrate, commanding silence, again desired her either to 
 speak out her errand or to leave the place. 
 
 ''Her bairn," she said, ''was her bairn, and she came to 
 fetch her out of ill haft and waur guiding. If she wasna sae 
 wise as ither folk, few ither folk had suffered as muckle as she 
 had done ; forbye that she could fend the Avaur for hersell 
 within the four wa's of a jail. She could prove by fifty wit- 
 nesses, and fifty to that, that her daughter had never seen 
 Jock Porteous, alive or dead, since he had gien her a lounder- 
 ing wi' his cane, the neger that he was ! for driving a dead 
 cat at the provost's wig on the Elector of Hanover's birth- 
 day." 
 
 Notwithstanding the wretched appearance and violent de- 
 meanor of this woman, the magistrate felt the justice of her 
 argument, that her child might be as dear to her as to a more 
 fortunate and more amiable mother. He proceeded to in- 
 vestigate the circumstances which had led to Madge Mur- 
 dockson's (or Wildfire's) arrest, and as it was clearly shown 
 that she had not been engaged in the riot, he contented him- 
 self with directing that an eye should be kept upon her by 
 the police, but that for the present she should be allowed to 
 return home with her mother. During the interval of fetch- 
 ing Madge from the jail, the magistrate endeavored to dis- 
 cover whether her mother had been privy to the change of 
 dress betwixt that young woman and Robertson. But on 
 this point he could obtain no light. She persisted in declar- 
 
183 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 ing that she had never seen Robertson since his remarkable 
 escape during service-time ; and that, if her daughter had 
 changed clothes with him, it must have been during her 
 absence at a hamlet about two miles out of town, called Dud- 
 dingstone, where she could prove that she passed that event- 
 ful night And, in fact, one of the town officers, who had 
 been searching for stolen linen at the cottage of a washer- 
 woman in that village, gave his evidence, that he had seen 
 Maggie Murdockson there, whose presence had considerably 
 increased his suspicion of the house in which she was a visitor, 
 in respect that he considered her as a person of no good rep- 
 utation. 
 
 " I tauld ye sae," said the hag ; '' see now what it is to hae 
 a character, gude or bad ! Now, maybe after a', I could tell 
 ye something about Porteous that you council-chamber bodies 
 never could lind out, for us mucklestir as ye mak." 
 
 All eyes were turned towards her, all ears were alert. 
 " Speak out ! " said tiie magistrate. 
 
 " It will be for your ain gude," insinuated the town clerk. 
 
 " Dinna keep the bailie waiting," urged the assistants. 
 
 She remained doggedly silent for two or three minutes, 
 casting around a malignant and sulky glance, that seemed to 
 enjoy the anxious suspense with which they waited her 
 answer. And then she broke forth at once — •' A' that I ken 
 about him is, that he was neither soldier nor gentleman, but 
 just a thief and a blackguard, like maist o' yoursells, dears. 
 Wiiat will ye gie me for that news, now ? He wad hae 
 served the G-ude Town lang or provost or bailie wad hae fund 
 that out, my jo ! " 
 
 While these matters were in discussion, Madge Wildfire 
 entered, and lier first exclamation was, " Eh ! see if there isna 
 our auld ne'er-do-weel deevil's buckie o' aanither. Hegh, sirs ! 
 but we are a hopefu' family, to be twa o' us in the guard at 
 ance. But there were better days wi^us ance : we^e there na, 
 mither ? " 
 
 Old Maggie's eyes had glistened with something like an ex- 
 pression of pleasure when she saw her daughter set at liberty. 
 But either her natural affection, like that of the tigress, could 
 not be displayed without a strain of ferocity, or there was 
 something in the ideas which Madge's speech awakened that 
 again stirred her cross and savage temper. " What signifies 
 what we were, ye street-raking limmer ! " she exclciimed, push- 
 ing her daughter before her to the door, with no gentle degree of 
 violence. " I'se tell thee what thou is now : thou's a crazed 
 hellicat Bess o' Bedlam, that sail taste naething but bread and 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 188 
 
 water for a fortnight, to serve ye for the plague ye hae gieu 
 me ; and ower gude for ye, ye idle tawpie ! " 
 
 Madge, however, escaped from her mother at the door, ran 
 back to tlie foot of the table, dropped a very low and fantastic 
 courtesy to the judge, and said, with a giggling laugh — " Our 
 minnie's sair mis-set, after her ordinar, sir. She'll hae had 
 some quarrel wi' her auld gudeman — that's Satan, ye ken, sirs." 
 This explanatory note she gave in a low confidential tone, and 
 the spectators of that credulous generation did not hear it with- 
 out an involuntary shudder. " The gudeman and her disna aye 
 gree weel, and then I maun pay the piper ; but my back's broad 
 eneugh to bear't a', an if she hae nae havings, that's nae reason 
 why wiser folk shoulclna hae some." Here another deep cour- 
 tesy, when the ungracious voice of her mother was heard. 
 " Madge, ye limmer ! If I come to fetch ye ! " 
 " Hear till her," said Madge. " But I'll wun out a gliff the 
 night for a' that, to dance in the moonlight, when her and the 
 gudeman will be whirrying through the blue lift on a broom- 
 shank, to see Jean Jap, that they hae putten intill the Kirkcaldy 
 tolbooth ; ay, they will hae a merry sail ower Inchkeith, and 
 ower a' the bits o' bonny waves that are poppling and plashing 
 against the rocks in the gowden glimmer o' the moon, ye ken. 
 I'm coming, mither — I'm coming," she concluded, on hearing 
 a scuffle at the door betwixt the beldam and the officers, who 
 were endeavoring to prevent her re-entrance. Madge then 
 waved her hand wildly towards the ceiling, and sung, at the 
 topmost pitch of her voice — 
 
 Up in the air, 
 
 On my bonny gray mare, 
 
 And I see, and I see, and I see her yet ;" 
 
 and with a hop, skip, and jump, sprung out of the room, as 
 the witches of Macbeth used, in less refined days, to seem to 
 fly upwards from the stage. 
 
 Some weeks intervened before Mr. Middleburgh, agreeably 
 to his benevolent resolution, found an opportunity of taking 
 a walk towards St. Leonard's, in order to discover whether it 
 might be possible to obtain the evidence hinted at in the 
 anonymous letter respecting Effie Deans. 
 
 In fact, the anxious perquisitions made to discover the 
 murderers of Porteous occupied the attention of all concerned 
 with the administration of justice. 
 
 In the course of these inquiries, two eircurastances hap- 
 
184 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 pened material to our story. Butler, after a close investi- 
 gation of his conduct, was declared innocent of accession to 
 the t^^ath of Porteous ; but, as having been present during 
 the whole transaction, was obliged to find bail not to quit 
 his usual residence at Liberton, that he might appear as a 
 witness when called upon. The other incident regarded the 
 disappearance of Madge Wildfire and her mother from Edin- 
 burgh. When they were sought, with the purpose of subject- 
 ing them to some further interrogatories, it was discovered 
 by Mr. Sharpitlavv that they had eluded the observation of the 
 police, and left the city so soon as dismissed from the coun- 
 cil-chamber. No efforts could trace the place of their retreat. 
 
 In the meanwhile, the excessive indignation of the council 
 of regency, at the slight put upon their authority by the 
 murder of Porteous, had dictated measures, in which their 
 own extreme desire of detecting the actors in that cori- 
 spiracy were consulted, in preference to the temper of the 
 people and the character of their churchmen. An act of 
 parliament was hastily passed, offering two hundred pounds 
 reward to those who should inform against any person con- 
 cerned in the deed, and the penalty of death, by a very un- 
 usual and severe enactment, was denounced against those 
 who should harbor the guilty. But what was cliiefly ac- 
 counted exceptionable, was a clause, appointing the act to 
 be read in churches by the officiating clergyman, on the 
 first Sunday of every month, for a certain period, immedi- 
 ately before the sermon. The ministers who should refuse 
 to comply with this injunction were declared, for the first 
 offense, incapable of sitting or voting in any church judi- 
 cature, and for the second, incapable of holding any ecclesi- 
 astical preferment in Scotland. 
 
 This last order united in a common cause those who 
 might privately rejoice in Porteous's death, though they 
 dared not vindicate the manner of it, with the more scru- 
 pulous Presbyterians, who held that even the pronouncing 
 the name of the *' Lords Spiritual*' in a Scottish pulpit was 
 quodaniniodo, an acknowledgment of Prelacy, and that the 
 injunction of the legislature was an interference of the civil 
 government with the Jus divinnm of Presbytery, since to 
 the General Assembly alone, as representing the invisible 
 head of the kirk, belonged to the sole and exclusive right of 
 regulating whatever pertained to public worship. Very 
 many also, of different political or religious sentiments, 
 and therefore not much moved by these considerations, 
 thought they saw, in so violent an act of parliament, a 
 more vindictive spirit than became the legislature of a 
 great country, and somethino- like an attempt to trample 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 185 
 
 upon the rights and independence of Scotland. The various 
 steps adopted for punishing the city of Edinburgh, by taking 
 away her charter and liberties, for what a violent and over- 
 mastering mob had done within her walls, were resented by 
 many, who thought a pretext was too hastily taken for degrad- 
 ing the ancient metropolis of Scotland. In short, there was 
 much heart-burning, discontent, and disaffection occasioned 
 by these ill-considered measures.* 
 
 Amidst these heats and dissensions, the trial of Effie 
 Deans, after she had been many weeks imprisoned, was at 
 length about to be brought forward, and Mr. Middleburgh 
 found leisure to inquire into the evidence concerning her. 
 For this purpose, he chose a fine day for his walk towards her 
 father's house. 
 
 The excursion into the country was somewhat distant, in 
 the opinion of a burgess of those days, although many of the 
 present inhabit suburban villas considerably beyond the 
 spot to which we allude. Three-quarters of an hour's walk, 
 however, even at a pace of magisterial gravity, conducted our 
 benevolent office-bearer to the Crags of St. Leonard's, and the 
 humble mansion of David Deans. 
 
 The old man was seated on the deas, or turf-seat, at the 
 end of his cottage, busied in mending his cart-harness with 
 his own hands ; for in those days any sort of labor which re- 
 quired a little more skill than usual fell to the share of the 
 goodman himself, and that even when he was well-to-pass in 
 the world. With stern and austere gravity he persevered in 
 his task, after having just raised his head to notice the advance 
 of the stranger. It would have been impossible to have dis- 
 covered, from his countenance and manner, the internal feel- 
 ings of agony with which he contended. Mr. Middleburgh 
 waited an instant, expecting Deans would in some measure 
 acknowledge his presence, and lead into conversation ; but, as 
 he seemed determined to remain silent, he was himself obliged 
 to speak first. 
 
 "My name is Middleburgh — Mr. James Middleburgh, one 
 of the present magistrates of the city of Edinburgh." 
 
 '•' It may be sae," answered Deans, laconically, and with- 
 out interrupting his labor. 
 
 " You must understand," he continued, 'Hhat the duty 
 of a magistrate is sometimes an unpleasant one." 
 
 " It may be sae," replied David ; "I hae naething to say 
 in the contrair ; " and he was again doggedly silent. 
 
 ''You must be aware," pursued the magistrate, "that 
 
 * See The Magistrates and the Porteous Mob. Note 23. 
 
186 WAVERLET NOVELS 
 
 persons in my situation are often^ obliged to make painful 
 and disagreeable inquiries of individuals, merely because it 
 is their bounden duty." 
 
 "It may be sae," again replied Deans ; "I hae naething 
 to say anent it, either the tae way or the toother. But I do 
 ken there was ance in a day a just and God-fearing magis- 
 tracy in yon town o' Edinburgh, that did not bear the sword 
 in vain, but were a terror to evil-doers, and a praise to such 
 as kept the path. In the glorious days of auld worthy 
 faithfu' Provost Dick,* when there was a true and faithfu' 
 General Assembly of the Kirk, walking hand in hand with 
 the real noble Scottish-hearted barons, and with the magis- 
 trates of this and other towns, gentles, burgesses, and com- 
 mons of all ranks, seeing with one eye, hearing with one ear, 
 and upholding the ark with their united strength. And 
 then folk might see men deliver up their silver to the state's 
 use, as if it had been as muckle sclate stanes. My father 
 saw them toom the sacks of dollars out o' Provost Dick's 
 window intill the carts that carried them to the army at 
 Dunse Law ; and if ye winna believe his testimony, there is 
 the window itsell still standing in the Luckenbooths — I think 
 it's aclaith-merchant's booth the dayf — at the airn stanchells, 
 five doors abune Gossford's Close. But now we haena sic 
 spirit amang us ; we think mair about the warst wally-draigle 
 in our ain byre than about the blessing which the angel of 
 the covenant gave to the Patriarch, even at Peniel and Maha^ 
 naim, or the binding obligation of our national vows ; and 
 we wad rather gie a pund Scots to buy an unguent to clear 
 our auld rannel-trees and our beds o' the English bugs, as 
 they ca' them, than we wad gie a plack to rid the land of 
 the swarm of Arminian caterpillars, Socinian pismires, and 
 deistical Miss Katies, that have ascended out of the bottom- 
 less pit to plague this perverse, insidious, and lukewarm 
 generation.'* 
 
 It happened to Davie Deans on this occasion, as it has 
 done to many other habitual orators, when once he became 
 embarked on his favorite subject, the stream of his own en- 
 thusiasm carried him forward in spite of his mental distress, 
 while his well-exercised memory supplied him amply with 
 all the types and tropes of rhetoric peculiar to his sect and 
 cause. 
 
 Mr. Middleburgh contented himself with answering — " All 
 this may be very true, my friend ; but, as you said just now, 
 
 * See Sir William Dick of Braid. Note 24. 
 
 t I think so too ; but if the reader be curious, he may consult 
 Mr. Chambers'8 Traditions of Edinburgh. 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN VSl 
 
 I have nothing to say to it at present, either one way or 
 other. You have two daughters, I think, Mr. Deans ?" 
 
 The old man winced, as one whose smarting sore is sud- 
 denly galled ; but instantly composed himself, resumed the 
 work which, in the heat of his declamation, he had laid 
 down, and answered with sullen resolution, "■ Ae daughter, 
 sir — only ane. " 
 
 "I understand you/' said Mr, Middleburgh ; "you have 
 only one daughter here at home with you ; but this unfor- 
 tunate girl who is a prisoner — she is, I think, your youngest 
 daughter ? " 
 
 The Presbyterian sternly raised his eyes. " After the world, 
 and according to the flesh, she is my daughter ; but when she 
 became a child of Belial, and a company-keeper, and a trader 
 ill guilt and iniquit}^ she ceased to be a bairn of mine.'' 
 
 " Alas, Mr. Deans," said Middleburgh, sitting down by 
 him and oideavoriug to take his hand, which the old man 
 proudly withdrew, "we are ourselves all sinners; and the 
 errors of our offspring, as they ought not to surprise us, be- 
 ing the portion which they derive of a common portion of 
 corruption inherited through us, so they do not entitle us 
 to cast them off because they have lost themselves." 
 
 " Sir," said Deans, impatiently, " I ken a' that as weel as 
 — I mean to say," he resumed, checking the irritation he felt 
 at being schooled — a discipline of the mind which those 
 most ready to bestow it on others do themselves most re- 
 luctantly submit to receive — " I mean to say, that what ye 
 observe may be just and reasonable ; but I hae nae freedom 
 to enter into my ain private affairs wi' strangers. And now, 
 in this great national emergency, when there's the Porteous 
 Act has come doun frae London, that is a deeper blow to this 
 poor sinf u' kingdom and suffering kirk than ony that has been 
 heard of since the foul and fatal Test — at a time like this " 
 
 "But, goodman," interrupted Mr. Middleburgh, '' jon 
 must think of your own household first, or else you are worse 
 even than the infidels." 
 
 " I tell ye. Bailie Middleburgh," retorted David Deans, 
 "' if ye be a bailie, as there is little honor in beins: ane in 
 these evil days — I tell ye, I heard the gracious Saunders 
 Peden — I wotna whan it was ; but it was in killing time, 
 when the plowers were drawing alang their furrows on the 
 back of the Kirk of Scotland — I heard him tell his hearers, 
 gude and waled Christians they were too, that some o' them 
 wad greet mair for a bit drowned calf or stirk than for a' 
 the defections and oppressions of the day ; and tliat they 
 were some o' them thinking o' ae thing, some o' anither, and 
 
188 WA VER L EF NO VEL S 
 
 there was Lady Hundleslope thinking o' greeting Jock at 
 the fireside ! And tlie huly confessed in my hearing that a 
 drow of anxiety had come ower her for her son that she had 
 left at hame of a decay.* And what wad he hae said of me, if 
 
 I had ceased to think of the gude cause for a castaway — a 
 
 It kills me to think of what she is ! " 
 
 " But the life of your child, goodman — think of that ; if 
 her life could be saved," said Middleburgh. 
 
 " Her life ! " exclaimed David. " I wadna gie ane o' my 
 gray hairs for her life, if her gude name be gane. And yet,'' 
 said he, relenting and retracting as he spoke, " I wad make 
 the nilfer, Mr. Middleburgh — 1 wad gie a' these gray hairs 
 that she has brought to shame and sorrow — I wad gie the 
 auld head they grow on, for her life, and that she might 
 hae time to amend and return, for what hae the wicked 
 beyond the breath of their nostrils ? But I'll never see her 
 mair. No ! that — that I am determined in — I'll never see her 
 mair ! " His lips continued to move for a minute after his 
 voice ceased to be heard, as if he were repeating the same 
 vow internally. 
 
 *'Well, sir," said Mr. Middleburgh, *' I speak to you as 
 a man of sense ; if you would save your daughter's life you 
 must use human means." 
 
 " I understand what you mean ; but Mr. Novit, who is 
 the procurator and doer of an honorable person, the Laird 
 of Dumbiedikes, is to do what carnal wisdom can do for her 
 in the circumstances. Mysell am not clear to trinquet and 
 traffic wi' courts o' justice, as they are now constituted ; I 
 have a tenderness and scruple in my mind anent them." 
 
 " That is to say," said Middleburgh, " that you are a Ca- 
 meronian, and do not acknowledge the authority of our courts 
 of judicature, or present government ?" 
 
 " Sir, under your favor," replied David, who was too proud 
 of his own polemical knowledge to call himself the follower 
 of any one, " ye take me up before I fall down. I canna see 
 why I suld be termed a Cameronian, especially now that ye 
 hae given the name of that famous and savory sufferer, not 
 only until a regimental band of soldiers, whereof I am told 
 many can now curse, swear, and use profane language as fastas 
 ever Richard Cameron could preach or pray, but also because 
 ye have, in as far as it is in your power, rendered that 
 martyr's name vain and contemptible, by pipes, drums, and 
 fifes, playing the vain carnal spring, called the Cameronian 
 Rant, which too many professors of religion dance to — a 
 practice maist unbecoming a j^rofessor to dance to any tune 
 * See lAfe of Peden, v. 111. 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 189 
 
 whatsoever, more especially promiscuously, that is, with the 
 female sex.* A brutish fashion it is, whilk is the begin- 
 ning of defection with many, as I may hae as muckle cause 
 as maist folk to testify." 
 
 " Well, but, Mr. Deans," replied Mr. Middleburgh, " I 
 only meant to say that you were a Cameronian, or Mac- 
 Miilanite, one of the society people, in short, who think it 
 inconsistent to take oaths under a government where the 
 Covenant is not ratified." 
 
 " Sir," replied the controversialist, who forgot even his 
 present distress in such discussions as these, " you cannot 
 fickle me sae easily as you do opine. I am not a MacMil- 
 lanite, or a Eusselite, or a Hamiltonian, or a Harleyite, or 
 a Howdenite ; f I will be led by the nose by none f I take 
 my name as a Christian from no vessel of clay. I have my 
 own principles and practice to answer for, and am an humble 
 pleader for the gude auld cause in a legal way." 
 
 "That is to say, Mr. Deans," said Middleburgh, "that 
 you are Deanite, and have ojiinions peculiar to yourself." 
 
 " It may please you to say sae," replied David Deans ; 
 but I have maintained my testimony before as great folk, and 
 in sharper times ; and though I will neither exalt myself nor 
 pull down others, I wish every man and woman in this land 
 had kept the true testimony, and the middle and straight 
 l^ath, as it were, on the ridge of a hill, where wind and water 
 shears, avoiding right-hand snares and extremes and left- 
 hand way-slidings, as weel as Johnny Dodds of Farthing's 
 Acre and ae man mair that shall be nameless." 
 
 "I suppose," replied the magistrate, " that is as much as 
 to say, that Johnny Dodds of Farthing's Acre and David 
 Deans of St. Leonards constitute the only members of the 
 true, real, unsophisticated Kirk of Scotland ?" 
 
 " God forbid that I suld make sic a vainglorious speech, 
 when there are sae mony professing Christians I " answered 
 David ; "but this I maun say, that all men act according to 
 their gifts and their grace, sae that it is nae marvel that '' 
 
 "This is all very fine," interrupted Mr. Middleburgh j 
 *' but I have no time to spend in hearing it. The matter iu 
 hand is this — I have directed a citation to be lodged in your 
 daugliter's hands. If she appears on the day of trial and 
 gives evidence, there is reason to hope that she may save her 
 sister's life ; if, from any constrained scruples about the 
 legality of iier performing the office of an affectionate sister 
 and a good subject, by appearing in a court held under the 
 
 *■ See note to Patrick Walker. 
 f All various species of the great genus Caraeronian. 
 
190 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 anthority of the law and government, you become the means 
 of deterring her from the discharge of this duty, I must 
 say, though the truth may sound harsh in your ears, that 
 you, who gave life to this unhappy girl, will became the 
 means of her losing it by a premature and violent death/' 
 
 So saying Mr. Middleburgh turned to leave him. 
 
 ** Bide a wee — bide a wee, Mr. Middleburgh," said Deans in 
 great perplexity and distress of mind ; but the bailie, who was 
 probably sensible that protracted discussion might diminish 
 the effect of his best and most forcible argument, took a hasty 
 leave, and declined entering farther into the controversy. 
 
 Deans sunk down upon his seat, stunned with a variety of 
 conflicting emotions. It had been a great source of contro- 
 versy among those holding his opinions in religious matters, 
 how far the government which succeeded the Revolution 
 could be, without sin, acknowledged by true Presbyterians, 
 seeing that it did not recognize the great national testimony 
 of the Solemn League and Covenant. And latterly, those 
 agreeing in this general doctrine, and assuming the sound- 
 ing title of the anti-Popish, anti-Prelatic, anti-Erastian, 
 anti-Sectarian, true Presbyterian remnant, were divided into 
 many petty sects among themselves, even as to the extent of 
 submission to the existing laws and rulers which constituted 
 such an acknowledgment as amounted to sin. 
 
 At a very stormy and tumultous meeting, held in 1683, to 
 discuss these important and delicate points, the testimonies of 
 the faithful few were found utterly inconsistent with each 
 other.* The place where this conference took place was re- 
 markably well adapted for such an assembly. It was a wild 
 and very sequestered dell in Tweeddale, surrounded by high 
 hills, and far removed from human habitation. A small 
 river, or rather a mountain torrent, called the Talla, breaks 
 down the glen with great fury, dashing successively over a 
 number of small cascades, which has procured the spot the 
 name of Talla Linns. Here the leaders among the scattered 
 adherents to the Covenant, men who, in their banishment 
 from human society, and in the recollection of the severities 
 to which they had been exposed, had become at once sullen 
 in their tempers and fantastic in their religious opinions, 
 met with arms in their hands and by the side of the torrent 
 discussed, with a turbulence which the noise of the stream 
 could not drown, points of controversy as empty and un- 
 substantial as its foam. 
 
 It was the fixed judgment of most of the meeting, that all 
 payment of cess or tribute to the existing government was 
 *See Meeting at. TaUa Linne. Note 2d. 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 19i 
 
 ntterly unlawful, and a sacrificing to idols. About other 
 impositions and degrees of submission there were various 
 opinions ; and perhaps it is the best illustration of the spirit 
 of those military fathers of the church to say, that while all 
 allowed it was impious to pay the cess employed for main- 
 taining the standing army and militia, there was a fierce 
 controversy on the lawfulness of paying the duties levied at 
 ports and bridges, for maintaining roads and other necessary 
 purposes that there were some who, repugnant to these im- 
 posts for turnpikes and pontages, were nevertheless free in 
 conscience to make payment of the usual freight at public 
 ferries, and that a person of exceeding and punctilious zeal, 
 James Russel, one of the slayers of the Archbishop of St. 
 Andrews, had given his testimony with great warmth even 
 against this last faint shade of subjection to constituted 
 authority. This ardent and enlightened person and his 
 followers had also great scruples about the lawfulness of be- 
 stowing the ordinary names upon the days of the week and 
 the months of the year, which savored in their nostrils so 
 strongly of paganism, that at length they arrived at the 
 conclusion that they who owned such names as Mon- 
 day, Tuesday, January, February, and so forth, "served 
 themselves heirs to the same, if not greater, punishment 
 than had been denounced against the idolaters of old." 
 
 David Deans had been present on this memorable occasion, 
 although too young to be a speaker among the polemical 
 combatants. His, brain, however, had been thoroughly 
 heated by the noise, clamor, and metaphysical ingenuity of 
 the discussion, and it was a controversy to which his mind 
 had often returned ; and though he carefully disguised his 
 vacillation from others, and perhaps from himself, he had 
 never been able to come to any precise line of decision on the 
 subject. lu fact, his natural sense had acted as a counterpoise 
 to his controversial zeal. He was by no means pleased with 
 the quiet and indifferent manner in which King William's 
 government slurred over the errors of the times, when, far 
 from restoring the Presbyterian Kirk to its former suprem- 
 acy, they passed an act of oblivion even to those who had 
 been its persecutors, and bestowed on many of them titles, 
 favors, and employments. When, in the first General 
 Assembly which succeeded the Revolution, an overture was 
 made for the revival of the League and Covenant, it was 
 with horror that Douce David heard the proposal eluded by 
 the men of carnal wit and policy, as he called them, as being 
 inapplicable to the present times, and not falling under the 
 modern model of the church. The reign of Queen Anne 
 
198 WA VERLET NO VEL8 
 
 had increased his conviction that tlie Revohition government 
 was xiot one of the true Presbyterian complexion. But then, 
 more sensible than the bigots of his sect, he did not confound 
 the moderation and tolerance of these two reigns with the 
 active tyranny and oppression exercised in those of Charles 
 II. and James II. The Presbyterian form of religion, 
 though deprived of the weight formerly attached to 
 its sentences and excommunications, and compelled to 
 tolerate the co-existence of the Episcopacy, and of sects 
 of various descriptions, was still the National Church ; and 
 though the glory of the second temple was far inferior to that 
 which had flourished from 1639 till the battle of Dunbar, 
 still it was a structure that, wanting the strength and the 
 .terrors, retained at least the form and symmetry, of the 
 original model. Then came the insurrection of 1715, and 
 David Deans's horror for the revival of the popish andpre- 
 latical faction reconciled him greatly to the government of 
 King George, although he grieved that that monarch might 
 be suspected of a leaning unto Erastianism. In short, moved 
 by so many different considerations, he had shifted his ground 
 at different times concerning the degree of freedom which 
 he felt in adopting any act of immediate acknowledgment 
 or submission to the present government, which, however 
 mild and paternal, was still uncovenanted ; and now he felt 
 himself called upon by the most powerful motive conceiv- 
 able to authorize his daughter's giving testimony in a court 
 of justice, which all who have since been called Camero- 
 nians accounted a step of lamentable and direct defection. 
 The voice of nature, however, exclaimed loud in his bosom 
 against the dictates of fanaticism ; and his imagination, 
 fertile in the solution of polemical difficulties, devised an 
 expedient for extricating himself from the fearful dilemma, 
 in which he saw, on the one side, a falling off from prin- 
 ciple, and on the other, a scene from which a father's 
 thoughts could not but turn in shuddering horror. 
 
 "1 have been constant and unchanged in my testimony," 
 said David Deans ; " but then who has said it of me, that I 
 have judged my neighbor over closely, because he hath had 
 more freedom in his walk than I have found in mine ? I 
 never was a separatist, nor for quarreling with tender souls 
 about mint, cummin, or other the lesser tithes. My daughter 
 Jean may have a light in this subject that is hid frae my 
 auld een ; it is laid on her conscience, and not on mine. If 
 she hath freedom to gang before the judiciary, and hold up her 
 hand for tliis poor castaway, surely I will not say shestcppeth 
 over her bounds ; and if not " He paused in his mental 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 193 
 
 argument, while a pang of unntterable anguish convulsed 
 his features, yet, shaking it off, he firmly resumed the strain 
 of his reasoning — "And if not, God forbid that she should 
 go into defection at bidding of mine ! I wunna fret the ten- 
 der conscience of one bairn — no, not to save the life of tlie 
 other/' 
 
 A Eoman would have devoted his daughter to death from 
 different feelings and motives, but not upon a more heroi" 
 principle of duty. 
 
CHAPTER XIX 
 
 To man, in this his trial state. 
 
 The privilege is given, 
 When tost by tides of human fate. 
 
 To anchor fast on heaven. 
 
 Watts's Hymns. 
 
 It was "vrith a firm step that Deans sought his daughter's 
 apartment, determined to leave her to tlie light of her own 
 conscience in the dubious point of casuistry in which he sup- 
 posed her to be placed. 
 
 The little room had been the sleej)ing-apartment of both 
 sisters, and there still stood there a small occasional bed which 
 had been made for Efl&e's accommodation, when, complaining 
 of illness, she had declined to share, as in happier times, her 
 sister's pillow. The eyes of Deans rested involuntarily, on 
 entering tlie room, upon this little couch, with its dark green 
 coarse curtains, and the ideas connected with it rose so thick 
 upon his soul as almost to incapacitate him from opening his 
 errand to his daughter. Her occupation broke the ice. He 
 found her gazing on a slip of paper, which contained a cita- 
 tion to her to appear as a witness upon her sister's trial in be- 
 half of the accused. For the worthy magistrate, determined 
 to omit no chance of doing Effie justice, and to leave her sis- 
 ter no apology for not giving tlie evidence which she was sup- 
 posed to possess, had caused the ordinary citation, or subpcena, 
 of tlie Scottish criminal court, to be served upon her by an 
 otlicer during his conference with David. 
 
 Tliis precaution was so far favorable to Deans, that it saved 
 him the pain of entering upon a formal explanation with his 
 daughter ; he only said, with a hollow and tremulous voice, 
 "I perceive ye are aware of the matter." 
 
 "0 father, we are cruelly sted between God's laws and 
 man's laws. "What shall we do ? AVhat can we do ? " 
 
 Jeanie, it must be observed, had no hesitation what- 
 ever about the mere act of appearing in a court of justice. 
 She might have heard the point discussed by her father more 
 than once ; but we have already noticed, that she was accus- 
 tomed to listen with reverence to much which she was inca- 
 
 194 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 195 
 
 pable of nnderstanding, and that subtle arguments of casuis- 
 try found her a patient but unedilied hearer. Upon receiving 
 the citation, therefore, her thoughts did not turn upon the chi- 
 merical scruples which alarmed her father's mind, but to the 
 language which had been held to her by the stranger at Mus- 
 chat's Cairn. In a word, she never doubted but she was to 
 be dragged forward into the court of justice, in order to place 
 her in the cruel position of either sacrificing her sister by 
 telling the truth, or committing perjury in order to save her 
 life. And so strongly did her thoughts run in this channel 
 that she applied her father's words, "Ye are aware of the 
 matter," to his acquaintance with the advice that had been 
 so fearfully enforced upon her. She looked up with anxious 
 surprise, not unmingled with a cast of horror, which his next 
 words, as she interpreted and applied them, were not quali- 
 fied to remove. 
 
 " Daughter," said David, " it has ever been my mind, 
 that in tilings of ane doubtful and controversial nature ilk 
 Christian's conscience suld be his ain guide. Wherefore de- 
 scend mto yourself, try your ain mind with sufficiency of soul 
 exercise, and as you sail finally find yourself clear to do in 
 this matter, even so be it." 
 
 " But, father," said Jeanie, whose mind revolted at the 
 construction which she naturally put upon his language, 
 "can this — this be a doubtful or controversial matter? 
 Mind, father, the ninth command — ' Thou shalt not bear 
 false witness against thy neighbor.'" 
 
 David Deans paused ; for, still applying her speech to his 
 preconceived difficulties, it seemed to him as if she, a woman 
 and a sister, was scarce entitled to be scrupulous upon this 
 occasion, where lie, a man, exercised in the testimonies of 
 that testifying period, had given indirect countenance to her 
 following what must have been the natural dictates of her own 
 feelings. But he kept firm his purpose, until his eyes invol- 
 untarily rested upon tlie little settle-bed, and recalled the 
 form of the child of his old age, as she sat upon it, pale, 
 emaciated, and broken-hearted. His mind, as the picture 
 arose before him, involuntarily conceived, and his tongue in- 
 voluntarily uttered — but in a tone how different from his 
 usual dogmatical precision ! — arguments for the course of con- 
 duct likely to insure his child's safety. 
 
 "Daughter," he said, " I did not say that your path was 
 free from stumbling ; and, questionless, this act may be in 
 the opinion of some a transgression, since he who beareth 
 witness unlawfully, and against his conscience, doth in some 
 
196 WAVERLEV NOVELS 
 
 sort wear false witness against his neighbor. Yet in matters 
 of compliance, the guilt iietli not in the compliance sae 
 muckle as in the mind and conscience of him that doth com- 
 ply ; and, therefore, although my testimony hath not been 
 spared upon public defections, I haena felt freedom to sep- 
 arate mysell from the communion of many who have been 
 clear to hear those ministers who have taken the fatal indul- 
 gence, because they might get good of them, though I could 
 not." 
 
 When David had proceeded thus far, his conscience re- 
 proved him, that he might be indirectly undermining the 
 purity of his daughter's faith, and smoothing the way for her 
 falling off from strictness of principle. He, therefore, sud- 
 denly stopped, and changed his tone : " Jeanie, I perceive 
 that our vile affections — so I call them in respect of doing the 
 will of our Father — cling too heavily to me in this hour of 
 trying sorrow, to permit me to keep sight of my ain duty, or 
 to airt you to yours. I will speak nae mair anent this over- 
 trying matter. Jeanie, if ye can, wi' God and gude con- 
 science, speak in favor of this puir unhappy [Here his 
 
 voice faltered.] She is your sister in the flesh : worthless 
 and castaway as she is, she is the daughter of a saint in heaven, 
 that was a mother to you, Jeanie, in place of your ain ; but 
 if ye arena free in conscience to speak for her in the court of 
 judicature, follow your conscience, Jeanie, and let God's will 
 be done." After this adjuration he left the apartment, and 
 his daughter remained in a state of great distress and per- 
 plexity. 
 
 It would have been no small addition to the sorrows of 
 David Deans, even in this extremity of suffering, had h_^ 
 known that his daughter was applying the casuistical argu- 
 ments which he had been using, not in the sense of a permis- 
 sion to follow her own opinion on a dubious and disputed 
 point of controversy, but rather as an encouragement to trans- 
 gress one of those divine commandments which Christians of 
 all sects and denominations unite in holding most sacred. 
 
 "Can this be ?" said Jeanie, as the door closed on her 
 father — " can these be his words that I have heard, or has the 
 Enemy taken his voice and features to give weight unto the 
 counsel which causeth to perish ? A sister's life, and a father 
 pointing out how to save it ! God deliver me ! this is a 
 fearfu' temptation." 
 
 Roaming from thought to thought, she at one time im- 
 agined her father understood the ninth commandment literal- 
 ly, as prohibiting false witness against our neighbor, without 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 197 
 
 extending the denunciation against falsehood uttered in favor 
 of tlie criminal. But her clear and unsophisticated power of 
 discriminating between good and evil iiistantly rejected an 
 interpretation so limited and so unworthy of the Author of 
 the law. She remained in a state of the most agitating terror 
 and uncertainty — afraid to communicate her thoughts freely 
 to her father, lest she should draw forth an opinion with 
 vhich she could not comply ; wrung with distress on her sis- 
 ter's account, rendered the more acute by reflecting that the 
 means of saving her were in her power, but were such as her 
 conscience prohibited her from using ; tossed, in short, like a 
 vessel in an open roadstead during a storm, and, like that 
 vessel, resting on one only sure cable and anchor — faith in 
 Providence, and a resolution to discharge her duty. 
 
 Butler's affection and strong sense of religion would have 
 been her principal support in these distressing circumstances, 
 but he was still under restraint, which did not permit him 
 to come to St. Leonard's Crags ; and her distresses were of a 
 nature which, with her indifferent habits of scholarship, she 
 found it impossible to express in writing. She was therefore 
 compelled to trust for guidance to her own unassisted sense 
 of what was right or wrong. 
 
 It was not the least of Jeanie's distresses that, although 
 she hoped and believed her sister to be innocent, she had not 
 the means of receiving that assurance from her own mouth. 
 
 The double-dealing of Ratcliffe in the matter of Robertson 
 had not prevented his l)eing rewarded, as double-dealers fre- 
 quently have been, with favor and preferment. Sharpitlaw, 
 who found in him something of a kindred genius, had been 
 intercessor in his behalf with the magistrates, and the cir- 
 cumstance of his having voluntarily remained in the prison, 
 when the doors were forced by the mob, would have made it 
 a hard measure to take the life which he had such easy means 
 of saving. He received a full pardon ; and soon afterwards, 
 James Ratcliffe, the greatest thief and housebreaker in Scot- 
 land, was, upon the faith, perhaps, of an ancient proverb, 
 selected as a person to be intrusted with the custody of other 
 delinquents. 
 
 When Ratcliffe was thus placed in a confidential situation, 
 he was repeatedly applied to by the sapient Saddletree and 
 others who took some interest in the Deans family, to procure 
 an interview between the sisters ; but the magistrates, who 
 were extremely anxious for the apprehension of Robertson, 
 had given strict orders to the contrary, hoping that, by keep- 
 ing them separate, they might, from the one or the other, ex« 
 
198 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 tract some information respecting that fugitive. On this sub- 
 ject Jeanie had nothing to tell them. She informed Mr. 
 Middleburgh that she knew nothing of Eobertson, except 
 having met him that night by appointment to give her some 
 advice resjaecting her sister's concern, the purport of which, 
 she said, was betwixt God and her conscience. Of his motions, 
 purposes, or plans, past, present, or future, she knew nothing, 
 and so had nothing to communicate. 
 
 EflBe was equally silent, though from a different cause. It 
 was in vain that they offered a commutation and alleviation 
 of her punishment, and even a free pardon, if she would con- 
 fess what slie knew of her lover. She answered only with 
 tears ; unless, when at times driven into pettish sulkiness by 
 tlie persecution of the interrogators, she made them abrupt 
 and disrespectful answers. 
 
 At length, after her trial had been delayed for many weeks, 
 in hopes she might be induced to speak out on a subject 
 infinitely more interesting to the magistracy than her own 
 guilt or innocence, their patience was worn out, and even Mr. 
 Middleburgh finding no ear lent to further intercession in her 
 behalf, the day was fixed for the trial to proceed. 
 
 It was now, and not sooner, that Sharpitlaw, recollecting 
 his promise to Effie Deans, or rather being dinned into com- 
 pliance by the unceasing remonstrances of Mrs. Saddletree, 
 who was his next-door neighbor, and who declared "it was 
 heathen cruelty to keep the twa broken-hearted creatures sep- 
 arate," issued the important mandate permitting them to see 
 each other. 
 
 On the evening which preceded the eventful day of trial, 
 Jeanie was permitted to see her sister — an awful interview, 
 and occurring at a most distressing crisis. This, however, 
 formed a part of the bitter cup which she was doomed to 
 drink, to atone for crimes and follies to which she had no ac- 
 cession ; and at twelve o'clock noon, being the time appointed 
 for admission to the jail, she went to meet, for the first time 
 for several months, her guilty, erring, and most miserabld 
 sister, in that abode of guilt, error, and utter misery. 
 
CHAPTER XX 
 
 Sweet sister, let me live I 
 "What sin you do to save a brother's life, 
 Nature dispenses with the deed so far, 
 That it becomes a virtue. 
 
 Measure for Measure. 
 
 Jeanie Deans was admitted into the jail by Ratcliffe. This 
 fellow, as void of shame as of honesty, as he opened the now 
 trebly secured door, asked her, with a leer which made her 
 shudder, " whether she remembered him ?" 
 
 A half -pronounced and timid " No " was her answer. - 
 
 " What ! not remember moonlight, and Muschat's Cairn, 
 and Eob and Rat ?" said he, with the same sneer. "Your 
 memory needs redding up, my jo." 
 
 If Jeanie's distresses had admitted of aggravation, it must 
 have been to find her sister vinder the charge of such a prof- 
 ligate as this man. He was not, indeed, without something 
 of good to balance so much that was evil in his character and 
 habits. In his misdemeanors he had never been bloodthirsty 
 or cruel ; and in his present occupation he had shown himself, 
 in a certain degree, accessible to touches of humanity. But 
 these good qualities were unknown to Jeanie, who, remember- 
 ing the scene at Muschat's Cairn, could scarce find voice to 
 acquaint him that she had an order from Bailie Middleburgh, 
 permitting her to see her sister. 
 
 " I ken that fu' weel, my bonny doo ; mair by token I have 
 a special charge to stay in the ward with you a' the time ye 
 are thegither." 
 
 "Must that be sae?" asked Jeanie, with an imploring 
 voice. 
 
 " Hout, ay, hinny," replied the turnkey ; " and what the 
 waur will you and your tittle be of Jim Ratcliffe hearing what 
 ye hae to say to ilk other ? Deil a word ye'"ll say that will 
 gar him keri your kittle sex better than he kens them already ; 
 and another thing is, that, if ye dinna speak o' breaking the 
 tolbooth, deil a word will I tell ower, either to do ye good 
 pr ill.'' 
 
 .196 
 
200 WAVERLEV NOVELS 
 
 Thus saying, Ratcliffe marslialled her the way to the apart- 
 ment where Effie was confined. 
 
 Shame, fear, and grief had contended for mastery in the 
 poor prisoner's bosom during the whole morning, while she 
 had looked forward to this meeting; but when the door 
 opened, all gave way to a confused and strange feeling that 
 had a tinge of joy in it, as, throwing herself on her sister's 
 neck, she ejaculated, "My dear Jeanie ! mydear Jeanie ! it's 
 lang since I hae seen ye." Jeanie returned the embrace with 
 an earnestness that partook almost of rapture, but it was only 
 a flitting emotion like a sunbeam unexpectedly penetrating 
 betwixt the clouds of a tempest, and obscured almost as soon 
 as visible. The sisters walked together to the side of the pal- 
 let bed, and sat down side by side, took hold of each other's 
 hands, and looked each other in the face, but without speak- 
 ing a word. In this posture they remained for a minute, while 
 the gleam of joy gradually faded from their features, and 
 gave way to the most intense expression, first of melancholy, 
 and then of agony, till, throwing themselves again into each 
 other's arms, they, to use the language of Scripture, lifted up 
 their voices and wept bitterly. 
 
 Even the hard-hearted turnkey, who had spent his life in 
 scenes calculated to stifle both conscience and feeling, could 
 not witness this scene without a touch of human sympathy. 
 It was shown in a trifling action, but which had more delicacy 
 in it than seemed to belong to Ratcliiie's character and sta- 
 tion. The unglazed window of the miserable chamber was 
 open, and the beams of a bright sun fell right upon the bed 
 where the sufferers were seated. With a gentleness that had 
 something of reverence in it, Ratcliffe partly closed the shut- 
 ter, and seemed thus to throw a veil over a scene so sorrowful. 
 
 " Ye are ill, Effie," were the first words Jeanie could utter 
 — " ye are very ill." 
 
 '"0, what wad I gie to be ten times waur, Jeanie !" was 
 the reply — "what wad I gie to be cauld dead afore the ten 
 o'clock bell the morn ! And our father — but I am his bairn 
 nae langer now ! 0, I hae nae friend left in the warld ! 
 that I were lying dead at ray mother's side in Newbattle kirk- 
 yard!" 
 
 "Hout, lassie," said Ratcliffe, willing to show the interest 
 which he absolutely felt, "dinna be sae dooms down-hearted 
 as a' that ; there's mony a tod hunted that's no killed. Ad- 
 vocate Langtale has brought folk through waur snappers than 
 a' this, and there's no a cleverer agent than Nichil Novit e'er 
 drew a bill of suspension. Hanged or unhanged, they are 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 201 
 
 w^eel aff has sic an agent and counsel ; ane's sure o' fair play. 
 Ye are a bonny lass, too, an ye wad busk ujj your cocker- 
 nonie a bit ; and a bonny lass will find favor wi' judge and 
 jury, when they would strap up a grewsome carle like me for 
 the fifteenth part of a flea's hide and tallow, d— n them." 
 
 To this homely strain of consolation the mourners returned 
 no answer ; indeed, they were so much lost in their own sor- 
 rows as to have become insensible of Eatcliffe's presence. 
 *' 0, Effie," said her elder sister, "how could you conceal 
 your situation from me ? 0, woman, had I deserved this at 
 your hand ? Had ye spoke but ae word — sorry we might 
 hae been, and shamed we might hae been, but this awfu' dis- 
 pensation had never come ower us." 
 
 " And what gude wad that hae dune ? " answered the 
 prisoner. "Na, na, Jeanie, a' was ower when ance I forgot 
 what I promised when I faulded down the leaf of my Bible. 
 See," she said, producing the sacred volume, "the book opens 
 aye at the place o' itsell. see, Jeanie, what a fearfu' script- 
 ure !" 
 
 Jeanie took her sister's Bible, and found that the fatal 
 mark was made at this impressive text in the Book of Job : 
 " He hath stripped me of my glory, and taken the crown from 
 my head. He hath destroyed me on every side, and I am 
 gone. And mine hope hath he removed like a tree." 
 
 " Isna that ower true a doctrine ? " said the prisoner : *' isna 
 my crown, my honor removed ? And what am I but a poor 
 wasted, wan-thriven tree, dug up by the roots and flung out 
 to waste in the highway, that man and beast may tread it un- 
 der foot ? I thought o' the bonny bit thorn that our father 
 rooted out o' the yard last May, when it had &' the flush o' 
 blossoms on it ; and then it lay in the court till the beasts had 
 trod them a' to pieces wi' their feet. I little thought, when I 
 was wae for the bit silly green bush and its flowers, that I was 
 to gang the same gate mysell." 
 
 " 0, if ye had spoken a word," again sobbed Jeanie — "if 
 I were free to swear that ye had said but ae word of how 
 it stude wi' ye, they couldna hae touched your life this 
 day." 
 
 " Could they na ? " said Effie, with something like awakened 
 interest, for life is dear even to those who feel it as a burden. 
 " Wha tauld ye that, Jeanie ? " 
 
 " It was ane that kenn'd what he was saying weel eneugh," 
 replied Jeanie, who had a natural reluctance at mentioning 
 even the name of her sister's seducer. 
 
 ** Wha was it? I conjure ye to tell me." said Effie, seat- 
 
202 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 ing herself upright. '' Wha could tak interest m sic a cast- 
 bye as I am now ? Was it — was it Jmn ? " 
 
 *'Hout/' said Katcliffe, " what signifies keeping the poor 
 lassie in a swither ? I'se uphaud it's been Robertson that 
 learned ye that doctrine when ye saw him at Muschat's Cairn. ■'^ 
 
 " Was it him ? " said Effie, catching eagerly at his words — 
 *'■ was it him, Jeanie, indeed ? 0,1 see it was him, poor lad ; 
 and I was thinking his heart was as hard as the nether mill- 
 stane ; and him in sic danger on his ain part — poor George ! " 
 
 Somewhat indignant at this burst of tender feeling towards 
 the author of her misery, Jeanie could not help exclaiming — 
 " 0, Effie, how can ye speak that gate of sic a man as that ? " 
 
 " We maun forgie our enemies, ye ken," said poor Effie, 
 with a timid look and a subdued voice ; for her conscience 
 told her what a different character the feelings with wiiich 
 she still regarded her seducer bore, compared with the Chrig- 
 tian charity under which she attempted to veil it. 
 
 " And ye liae suffered a' this for him, and ye can think 
 of loving him still ? " said her sister, in a voice betwixt pity 
 and blame. 
 
 " Love him ! " answered Effie. "If I hadna loved a? 
 woman seldom loves, I hadna been within these wa's this day ; 
 and trow ye that love sic as mine is lightly forgotten ? Na, 
 na, ye may hew down the tree, but ye canna change its bend. 
 And 0, Jeanie, if ye wad do good to me at this moment, tell 
 me every word that he said, and whether he was sorry for pool 
 Effie or no ! " 
 
 "What needs I tell ye ony thing about it,^* said Jeanie. 
 " Ye may be sure he had ower muckle to do to save himsell, 
 to speak lang or muckle about onybody beside.'^ 
 
 " That's no true, Jeanie, though a saunt had said it," re- 
 plied Effie, with a sparkle of her former lively and irritable 
 temper. " But ye dinna ken, though I do, how far he pat 
 his life in venture to save mine." And looking at Katcliffe, 
 she checked herself and was silent. 
 
 " I fancy," said Eatcliffe, with one of his familiar sneers, 
 "the lassie thinks that naebody has een but hersell. Didna 
 I see when Gentle Geordie was seeking to get other folk out 
 of the tolbooth f orbye Jock Porteous ? But ye are of my mind, 
 hinny : better sit and rue than flit and rue. Ye needna look 
 in my face sae amazed. I ken mair things than that, maybe." 
 
 " my God ! my God ! " said Effie, springing up and 
 throwing herself down on her knees before him. " D'ye ken 
 where they hae putten my bairn ? my bairn ! my bairn ! 
 the poor sackless innocent new-born wee ane — bone of ray 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 208 
 
 bone, and flesh of my flesh ! man, if ye wad e'er deserve 
 a portion in heaven, or a broken-hearted creature's blessing 
 upon earth, tell me where they haeput my bairn — the sign of 
 my shame, and the partner of my suffering ! tell me wha has 
 taen't away, or what they hae dune wi't ! " 
 
 " Hout tout," said the turnkey, endeavoring to extricate 
 himself from the firm grasp with which she held him, " that's 
 taking me at my word wi' a witness. Bairn, quo' she ? 
 How the deil suld I ken ony thing of your bairn, huzzy ? Ye 
 maun ask that of auld Meg Murdockson, if ye dinna ken ower 
 muckle about it yoursell." 
 
 As his answer destroyed the wild and vague hope which 
 had suddenly gleamed upon her, the unhappy prisoner let go 
 her hold of his coat, and fell with her face on the pavement of 
 the apartment in a strong convulsion fit. 
 
 Jeanie Deans possessed, with her excellently clear under- 
 standing, the concomitant advantage of pomptitude of spirit, 
 even in the extremity of distress. 
 
 She did not suffer herself to be overcome by her own feel- 
 ings of exquisite sorrow, but instantly applied herself to her 
 sister's relief, with the readiest remedies which circumstances 
 afforded ; and which, to do Eatcliffe justice, he showed him- 
 self anxious to suggest, and alert in procuring. He had even 
 the delicacy to withdraw to the furthest corner of the room, 
 so as to render his official attendance upon them as little in- 
 trusive as possible, when Efiie was composed enough again to 
 resume her conference with her sister. 
 
 The prisoner once more, in the most earnest and broken 
 tones, conjured Jeanie to tell her the particulars of the con- 
 ference with Eobertson, and Jeanie felt it was impossible to 
 refuse her this gratification. 
 
 '* Do ye mind," she said, ^'^Effie, w^hen ye were in the 
 fever before we left Woodend, and how angry your mother, 
 that's now in a better place, was wi' me for gieing ye milk 
 and water to drink, because ye grat for it ? Ye were a bairn 
 then, and ye are a woman now, and should ken better than 
 ask what canna but hurt you. But come weal or woe, I 
 canna refuse ye onything that ye ask me wi' the tear in 
 your ee." 
 
 Again Effie threw herself into her arms, and kissed her 
 cheek and forehead, murmuring, "0 if ye kenn'd how lang 
 it is since I heard his name mentioned ! if ye but kenn'd how 
 muckle good it does me but to ken onything o' him that's 
 like goodness or kindness, ye wadna wonder that 1 wish to 
 hear o' him ! " 
 
804 WAVE RLE Y NOVELS 
 
 Jeanie sighed, and commenced her narrative of all that 
 had passed betwixt Robertson and her, making it as brief as 
 possible. Effie listened in breathless anxiety, holding her 
 sister^s hand in hers^ and keeping her eye fixed npon her 
 face, as if devouring every word she uttered. The interjec- 
 tions of " Poor fellow ! " — " Poor George ! " which escaped in 
 whispers, and betwixt sighs, were the only sounds with which 
 she interrupted the story. When it was finished she made a 
 long pause. 
 
 "And this was his advice ?" were the first words she ut- 
 tered. 
 
 " Just sic as I hae telFd ye,^^ replied her siater. 
 
 " And he wanted you to say something to yon folks that 
 wad save my young life ?" 
 
 "He wanted," answered Jeanie, "that I suld be man- 
 sworn.'' 
 
 " And you tauld him," said Efiie, " that ye wadna hear o' 
 coming between me and the death that I am to die, and me 
 no aughteen year auld yet ? " 
 
 "I told him," replied Jeanie, who now trembled at the 
 turn which her sister's reflections seemed about to take, "that 
 I daured na swear to an untruth." 
 
 " And what d'ye ca' an untruth ?"said Effie, again show- 
 ing a touch of her former spirit. "Ye are muckle to blame, 
 lass, if ye think a mother would, or could, murder her ain 
 bairn. Murder ! I wad hae laid down my life just to see a 
 blink o' its ee ! " 
 
 " I do believe," said Jeanie, " that ye are as innocent of 
 sic a purpose as the new-born babe itsell." 
 
 " I am glad ye do me that justice," said Effie, haughtily ; 
 " it's whiles the faut of very good folk like you, Jeanie, that 
 they think a' the rest of the Avarld are as bad as the warst 
 temptations can make them." 
 
 " I dinna deserve this frae ye, Effie," said her sister, sob- 
 bing, and feeling at once the injustice of the reproach and 
 compassion for the state of mind which dictated it. 
 
 " Maybe no, sister," said Effie. " But ye are angry be- 
 cause I love Robertson. How can I help loving him, that 
 loves me better that body and soul baith ? Here he put his 
 life in a niffer, to break the prison to let me out ; and sure 
 
 am I, had it stood wi' him as it stands wi' you " Here 
 
 she paused and was silent. 
 
 " 0, if it stude wi' me to save ye wi' risk of m^life!" 
 said Jeanie. 
 
 "Ay, lass," said her sister, " that's lightly said, but no sae 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 205 
 
 lightly credited, frae ane tliat winna ware a word for me ; and 
 if it be a wrang word, ye'll liae time eneugh to repent o't." 
 
 " But that word is a grievous sin, and it's a deeper offence 
 when it's a sin wilfully and presumptuously committed." 
 
 ''Weel, weel, Jeanie," said Effie, "I mind a' about the 
 sins o' presumption in the questions ; we'll speak nae mair 
 about this matter, and ye may save your breath to say your 
 carritch ; and for me, I'll soon hae nae breath to waste on ony- 
 body." 
 
 " I must needs say," interposed Eatcliffe, " that it's d — d 
 hard, when three words of your mouth would give the girl the 
 chance to nick Moll Blood, that you make such scrujiling 
 about rapping to them. D — n me, if they would take me, 
 if I would not rap to all Whatd'yecallum's — Hyssoj^'s Fables 
 — for her life ; lam us'd to't, b — t me, for less matters. Why, 
 I have smacked calfskin fifty times in England for a keg of 
 brandy." 
 
 "Never speak mair o't," said the prisoner. " It's just as 
 weel as it is ; and gude day, sister, ye keep Mr. Eatcliffe 
 waiting on. Ye'll come back and see me, I reckon, be- 
 fore " Here she stopped, and became deadly pale. 
 
 "And are we to part in this way," said Jeanie, "and yon 
 in sic deadly peril ? 0, Effie, look but up and say what ye wad 
 hae me do, and I could find in my heart amaist to say that I 
 wad do't." 
 
 "No, Jeanie," replied her sister, after an effort, "lam 
 better minded now. At my best, I was never half sae gude 
 as ye were, and what for suld you begin to mak yoursell waur 
 to save me, now that I am no Avortli saving ? God knows, 
 that in my sober mind I wadna wuss ony living creature to do 
 a wrang thing to save my life. I might have fled frae this 
 tolbooth on that awfu' night wi' ane wad hae carried me 
 through the warld, and friended me, and fended for me. 
 But I said to them, let life gang when gude fame is gane be- 
 fore it. But this lang im^orisonment has broken my spirit, 
 and I am whiles sair left to mysell, and then I wad gie the 
 Indian mines of gold and diamonds Just for life and breath ; 
 for I think, Jeanie, I have such roving fits as I used to hae 
 in the fever ; but instead of the fiery een, and wolves, and 
 Widow Butler's bullsegg, that I used to see spelling up on 
 my bed, I am thinking now about a high black gibbet, and 
 me standing up, and such seas of faces all looking up at poor 
 Effie Deans, and asking if it be her that George Eobertson 
 used to call the Lily of St. Leonard's. And then they stretch 
 out their faces, and make mouths, andgirn at me, and which- 
 
2M WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 ever way I look, I see a face laughing like Meg Mnrdockson, 
 when she tanld me I had seen the last of my wean. God pre- 
 serve us, Jeanie, that carline has a fearsome face ! " She 
 clapped her hands before lier eyes as she uttered this excla- 
 mation, as if to secure herself against seeing the fearful ob- 
 ject she had alluded to. 
 
 Jeanie Deans remained with her sister for two hours, dur- 
 ing which she endeavored, if possible, to extract something 
 from her that might be serviceable in her exculpation. But 
 she had nothing to say beyond what she had declared on her 
 first examination, with the purport of which the reader will 
 be made acquainted in proper time and place. " They wadna 
 believe her," she said, "and she had naething mair to tell 
 them." 
 
 , At length Katcliffe, though reluctantly, informed the sisters 
 that there was a necessity that they should part. " Mr. Novit," 
 he said, "was to see the prisoner, and maybe Mr. Langtale 
 too. Langtale likes to look at a bonny lass, whether in prison 
 or out o' prison." 
 
 Reluctantly, therefore, and slowly, after many a tear and 
 many an embrace, Jeanie retired from the apartment, and 
 heard its jarring bolts turned upon the dear being from whom 
 she was separated. Somewhat familiarized now even with 
 her rude conductor, she offered him a small present in money, 
 with a request he would do what he could for her sister's ac- 
 commodation. To her surprise, Eatcliffe declined the fee. 
 "I wasna bloody when I was on the pad," he said, "and I 
 winna be greedy — that is, beyond what's right and reasonable 
 — now that I am in the lock. Keep the siller ; and for civil- 
 ity, your sister sail hae sic as I can bestow. But I hope you'll 
 think better on it, and rap an oath for her ; deil a hair ill 
 there is in it, if ye are rapping again the crown. I kenn'd a 
 worthy minister, as gude a man, bating the deed they deposed 
 him for, as ever ye heard claver in a pu'pit, that rapped to a 
 hogshead of pigtail tobacco, just for as muckle as filled his 
 spleuchan. But maybe ye are keeping your ain counsel ; 
 weel, weel, there's nae harm in that. As for your sister, I'se 
 see that she gets her meat clean and warm, and I'll try to gar 
 her lie down and take a sleep after dinner, for deil a ee she'll 
 close the night. I hae gude experience of these matters. 
 The first night is aye the warst o't. I hae never heard o' ane 
 that sleepit the night afore trial, but of mony a ane that sleepit 
 as sound as a tap the night before their necks were straught- 
 ed. And it's nae wonder: the warst may be tholed when it's 
 kenn'd. Better a finger aff as aye wagging." 
 
CHAPTER XXI 
 
 yet though thou mayst be dragg'd in scorn 
 
 To yonder ignominious tree, 
 Thou shalt not want one faithful friend 
 
 To share the cruel fates' decree. 
 
 Jemmy Dawson. 
 
 After spending the greater part of the morning in his de- 
 votions, for his benevolent neighbors had kindly insisted npon 
 discharging his task of ordinary labor, David Deans entered 
 the apartment when the breakfast meal was prepared. His 
 eyes were involuntarily cast down, for he was afraid to look 
 at Jeanie, uncertain as he was whether she might feel herself 
 at liberty, with a good conscience, to attend the Court of Jus- 
 ticiary that day, to give the evidence which he understood 
 that she possessed in order to her sister's exculpation. At 
 length, after a minute of apprehensive hesitation, he looked 
 at her dress to discover whether it seemed to be in her 
 contemplation to go abroad that morning. Her apparel was 
 neat and plain, but such as conveyed no exact intimation of 
 her intentions to go abroad. She had exchanged her usual 
 garb for morning labor for one something inferior to that 
 with which, as her best, she was wont to dress herself for 
 church, or any more rare occasion of going into society. 
 Her sense taught her, that it was respectful to be decent in 
 her apparel on such an occasion, while her feelings induced 
 her to lay aside the use of the very few and simple personal 
 ornaments which, on other occasions, she permitted herself 
 to wear. So that there occurred nothing in her external ap- 
 pearance which could mark out to her father, with anything 
 like certaint}', her intentions on this occasion. 
 
 The preparations for their humble meal were that morn- 
 ing made in vain. The father and daughter sat, each assum- 
 ing the appearance of eating when the other's eyes were 
 turned to them, and desisting from the effort with disgust 
 when the affectionate imposture seemed no longer necessary. 
 
 At length these moments of constraint were removed. The 
 sound of St. Giles's heavy toll announced the hour previous 
 to the commencement of the trial ; Jeanie arose, and, with a 
 degree of composure for which she herself could not account. 
 
208 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 assumed her plaid, and made her other preparations for a dis- 
 tant walking. It was a strange contrast between the firm- 
 ness of her demeanor and the vacillation and crnel uncer- 
 tainty of purpose indicated in all her father's motions ; and 
 one unacquainted with both could scarcely have supposed 
 that the former waS;, in her ordinary habits of life, a docile, 
 quiet, gentle, and even timid country maiden, while her 
 father, with a mind naturally proud and strong, and sup- 
 ported by religious opinions of a stern, stoical, and unyield- 
 ing character, had in his time undergone and withstood the 
 most severe hardships and the most imminent peril, without 
 depression of spirit or subjugation of his constancy. The 
 secret of this difference was, that Jeanie's mind had already 
 anticipated the line of conduct which she must adopt, with 
 all its natural and necessary consequences ; while her father, 
 ignorant of every other circumstance, tormented himself with 
 imagining what the one sister might say or swear, or what effect 
 lier testimony might have upon the awful event of the trial. 
 
 He watched his daugliter with a faltering and indecisive 
 !ook, until she looked back upon him with a look of unut- 
 terable anguish, as she was about to leave the apartment. 
 
 "My dear lassie," said he, "I will " His action, 
 
 hastily and confusedly searching for his worsted mittens and 
 staff, showed his purpose of accompanying her, though his 
 tongue failed distinctly to announce it. 
 
 " Father," said Jeanie, replying rather to his action than 
 his words, "ye had better not." 
 
 " In the strength of my G-od," answered Deans, assum- 
 mg firmness, "I will go forth." 
 
 And, taking his daughter's arm under his, he began to 
 walk from the door with a step so hasty that she was almost 
 unable to keep up with him. A trifling circumstance, but 
 which marked the perturbed state of his mind, checked his 
 course. " Your bonnet, father ? " said Jeanie, who observed 
 he had come out with his gray hairs uncovered. He turned 
 back with a slight blush on his cheek, being ashamed to have 
 been detected in an omission which indicated so much men- 
 tal confusion, assumed his large blue Scottish bonnet, and 
 with a step slower, but more composed, as if the circumstance 
 had obliged him to summon up his resolution and collect his 
 scattered ideas, again placed his daughter's arm under his, 
 and resumed tlie way to Edinburgh. 
 
 The courts of justice were then, and are still, held in 
 what is called the Parliament Close, or, according to modern 
 phrase, the Parliament Square, and occupied the buildings 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 209 
 
 intended for the accommodation of tlie Scottish Estates. 
 This edifice, though in an imperfect and corrupted style of 
 architecture, had then a grave, decent, and, as it were, a ju- 
 dicial aspect, which was at least entitled to respect from its 
 antiquity ; for which venerable front, I observed, on my last 
 occasional visit to the metrojDolis, that modern taste had sub- 
 stituted, at great apparent expense, a pile so utterly incon- 
 sistent with every monument of antiquity around, and in 
 itself so clumsy at the same time and fantastic, that it may 
 be likened to the decorations of Tom Errand, the porter, in 
 the Trij) to the Jubilee, when he appears bedizened with the 
 tawdry finery of Beau Clincher. Sed transeat cum cceteris 
 erroribus. 
 
 The small quadrangle, or close, if we may presume still 
 to give it that appropriate though antiquated title, which at 
 Litchfield, Salisbury, and elsewhere is properly applied to 
 designate the enclosure adjacent to a cathedral, already 
 evinced tokens of the fatal scene which was that day to be 
 acted. The soldiers of the City Guard were on their posts, 
 now enduring, and now rudely repelling with the butts of their 
 muskets, the motley crew who thrust each other forward, to 
 catch a glance at the unfortunate object of trial, as she should 
 pass from the adjacent jjrison to the court in which her fate 
 was to be determined. All must have occasionally observed, 
 with disgust, the apathy with which the vulgar gaze on scenes 
 of this nature, and how seldom, unless when their sympathies 
 are called forth by some striking and extraordinary circum- 
 stance, the crowd evince any interest deeper than that of 
 callous, unthinking bustle and brutal curiosity. They laugh, 
 jest, quarrel, and push each other to and fro, with the same 
 unfeeling indifference as if they were assembled for some 
 holiday sport, or to see an idle procession. Occasionally, 
 however, this demeanor, so natural to the degraded populace 
 of a large town, is exchanged for a temporary touch of humai". 
 affections ; and so it chanced on the present occasion. 
 
 When Deans and his daughter presented themselves in the 
 close, and endeavored to make their way forward to the door 
 of the court-house, they became involved in the mob, hUK 
 subject, of course, to their insolence. As Deans repelled with 
 some force the rude pushes which he received on all sides, his 
 figure and antiquated dress caught the attention of the rab- 
 ble, who often show an intuitive sharpness in ascribing the 
 proper character from external appearance. 
 
 " Ye're welcome, Whigs, 
 Frae Both well Briggs," 
 
210 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 sung one fellow, for the mob of Edinbnrgli were at that time 
 Jacobitically disposed, probably because that was the line of 
 sentiment most diametrically opposite to existing authority. 
 
 " Mess David Williamson, 
 Chosen of twenty, 
 Ran up the pu'pit stair. 
 And sang Killiecrankie," 
 
 ehanted a siren, whose profession might be guessed by her ap- 
 pearance. A tattered cadie or errand porter, whom David 
 Deans had jostled in his attempt to extricate himself from the 
 vicinity of these scorners, exclaimed in a strong north-coun- 
 try tone, " Tadeil ding out her Cameronian een ! What gies 
 her titles to dunch gentlemans about ? " 
 
 " Make room for the ruling elder," said yet another ; "he 
 comes to see a precious sister glorify Grod in the G-rassmarket ! " 
 
 ' ' Whisht ! shame's in ye, sirs," said the voice of a man very 
 loudly, which, as quickly sinking, said in a low, but distinct 
 tone, " It's her father and sister." 
 
 All fell back to make way for the sufferers ; and all, even 
 the very rudest and most profligate, were struck with shame 
 and silence. In the space thus abandoned to them by the 
 mob. Deans stood, holding his daughter by the hand, and said 
 to her, with a countenance strongly and sternly expressive of 
 his internal emotion, " Ye hear with your ears, and ye see 
 with your eyes, where and to whom the backslidings and de- 
 fections of professors are ascribed by the scoffers. Not to 
 themselves alone, but to the kirk of which they are members, 
 and to its blessed and invisible Head. Then, weel may we take 
 wi' patience our share and portion of this outspreading re- 
 proach." 
 
 The man who had spoken, no other than our old friend 
 Dumbiedikes, whose mouth, like that of the prophet's ass, 
 had been opened by the emergency of the case, now joined 
 them, and, with his usual taciturnity, escorted them into the 
 court-house. No opposition was offered to their entrance, 
 either by the guards or doorkeepers ; and it is even said that 
 one of the latter refused a shillhig of civility-money, tendered 
 him by the Laird of Dumbiedikes, who was of opinion that 
 "siller wad mak a.' easy." But this last incident wants con- 
 firmation. 
 
 Admitted within the precincts of the court-house, they 
 found the usual number of busy office-bearers and idle loiter- 
 ers, who attend on these scenes by choice or from duty. Burgh- 
 ers gaped and stared ; young lawyers sauctered, sneered, and 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 211 
 
 langhed, as in the pit of the theatre ; while others apart sat 
 on a bench retired and reasoned highly, inter ajnces juris, 
 on the doctrines of constructive crime and the true import 
 of the statute. The bench was prej^ared for the arrival of the 
 judges. The jurors were in attendance. The crown counsel, 
 employed in looking over their briefs and notes of evidence, 
 looked grave and whispered with each other. They occupied 
 one side of a large table placed beneath the bench ; on the 
 other sat the advocates, whom the humanity of the Scottish 
 law, in this particular more liberal than tliat of the sister coun- 
 try, not only permits, but enjoins, to appear and assist with 
 the'r advice and skill all persons under trial. Mr. Nichil 
 Novit was seen actively instructing the counsel for the panel 
 — so the prisoner is called in Scottish law-phraseology — 
 busy, bustling, and imjDortant. When they entered the court- 
 room. Deans asked the Laird, in a tremulous whisper, " Where 
 wills/ze sit?" 
 
 Dunibiedikes whispered Novit, who pointed to a vacant 
 space at the bar, fronting the judges, and was about to con- 
 duct Deans towards it. 
 
 " No ! " he said ; " I cannot sit by her ; I cannot own her 
 — not as yet, at least. I will keep out of her sight, and turn 
 mine own eyes elsewhere ; better for us baith." 
 
 Saddletree, whose repeated interference with the counsel 
 had procured him one or two rebuffs, and a special request 
 that he would concern himself with his own matters, now 
 saw with i^le^sure an opportunity of playing the person of 
 importance. He bustled up to the poor old man, and pro- 
 ceeded to exhibit his consequence, by securing, through his 
 interest with the barkeepers and macers, a seat for Deans in 
 a situation where he was hidden from the general eye by the 
 projecting corner of the bench. 
 
 " It's gude to have a friend at court," he said, continuing 
 his heartless harangues to the passive auditor, who neither 
 heard nor replied to them ; "few folk but my sell could hae 
 sorted ye out a seat like this. The Lords will be here incon- 
 tinent, and proceed instanter to trial. They wunna fence 
 the court as they do at the circuit. The High Court of Jus- 
 ticiary is aye fenced. But, Lord's sake, what's this o't ? 
 Jeanie, ye are a cited witness. Macer, this lass is a witness ; 
 she maun be enclosed ; she maun on nae account be at large. 
 Mr. Novit, suldna Jeanie Deans be enclosed ?" 
 
 N^ovit answered in the affirmative, and offered to conduct 
 Jeanie to the apartment where, according to the scrupulous 
 practice of the Scottish court, the witnesses remain in readi- 
 
212 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 ness to be called into court to give evidence ; and separated, 
 at the same time, from all who might influence their testi- 
 mony, or give them information concerning that which was 
 passing upon the trial. 
 
 '*' Is this necessary ?" said Jeanie, still reluctant to quit 
 her father's hand. 
 
 *'A matter of absolute needcessity," said Saddletree; 
 " wha ever heard of witnesses no being inclosed ? " 
 
 '' It is really a matter of necessity," said the younger 
 counsellor retained for her sister ; and Jeanie reluctantly fol- 
 lowed the macer of the court to the place appointed. 
 
 " This, Mr. Deans," said Saddletree, " isca'd sequestering 
 a witness ; but it's clean different, wliilk maybe ye wadnafund 
 out o' yoursell, frae sequestering ane's estate or effects, as in 
 cases of bankruptcy. I iiae aften been sequestered as a wit- 
 ness, for the sheriff is in the use whiles to cry me in to witness 
 the declarations at precognitions, and so is Mr. Sharpitlaw ; 
 but I was ne'er like to be sequestered o' land and gudes but 
 ance, and that was lang syne, afore I was married. But 
 whislit, whisht ! here's the Court coming." 
 
 As he spoke, the five Lords of Justiciary, in their long 
 robes of scarlet, faced with white, and preceded by their mace- 
 bearer, entered with the usual formalities, and took their places 
 upon the bench of judgment. 
 
 The audience rose to receive them ; and the bustle occa- 
 sioned by their entrance was hardly composed, when a great 
 noise aud confusion of persons struggling, and forcibly en- 
 deavoring to enter at the doors of the court-room and of the 
 galleries, aiinouuced that the prisoner was about to be placed 
 at the bar. This tumult takes place when the doors, at first 
 only opened to those either having right to be present or to 
 the better and more qualified ranks, are at length laid open to 
 all whose curiosity induces them to be present on the occasion. 
 With inflamed CDuntenances and dishevelled dresses, strug- 
 gling witli and sometimes tumbling over each other, m rushed 
 the rude multitude, while a few soldiers, forming, as it were, 
 the centre of the tide, could scarce, with all their efforts, clear 
 a passage for the prisoner to the place which she was to oc- 
 cupy. By the authority of the Court and the exertions of 
 its officers, the tumult among the spectators was at length ap- 
 peased, and the unhappy girl brought forward, and placed 
 betwixt two sentinels with drawn bayonets, as a prisoner at 
 the bar, where she was to abide her deliverance for good or 
 evil, according to the issue of her trial. 
 
CHAPTER XXII 
 
 We have strict statutes, and most biting laws — 
 Tne needful l>its and curbs for headstrong steeds — 
 Which, for these fourteen years, we have let sleep, 
 Like to an o'ergrown lion in a cave 
 That goes not out to prey. 
 
 Measure for Measure. 
 
 " EuPHEMiA Deans/' said the presiding Judge, in an ac- 
 cent in which pity was blended with dignity, " stand up and 
 listen to the criminal indictment now to be preferred against 
 you." 
 
 The unhappy girl, who had been stupefied by the confu- 
 sion through which the guards had forced a passage, cast a 
 bewildered look on the multitude of faces around her which 
 seemed to tapestry, as it were, the walls, in one broad slope 
 from the ceiling to the floor, with human countenanccb, and 
 instinctively obeyed a command which rung in her ears like 
 the trumpet of the judgment-day. 
 
 " Put back your hair, EfEe," said one of the macers. 
 For her beautiful and abundant tresses of long fair hair, 
 which, according to the costume of the country, unmarried 
 women were not alloAved to cover with any sort of cap, and 
 which, alas ! Effie dared no longer confine with the snood 
 or ribbon which implied purity of maiden-fame, now hung 
 unbound and dishevelled over her face, and almost concealed 
 her features. On receiving this hint from the attendant, the 
 unfortunate young woman, with a hasty, trembling, and ap- 
 jjarently mechanical compliance, shaded back from her face 
 her luxuriant locks, and showed to the whole court, except- 
 ing one individual, a countenance which, though pale and 
 emaciated, was so lovely amid its agony that it called forth 
 a universal murmur of compassion and sympathy. Appar- 
 ently the expressive sound of human feeling recalled the poor 
 girl from the stupor of fear which predominated at first over 
 every other sensation, and awakened her to the no less pain- 
 ful sense of shame and exposure attached to lier present situa- 
 tion. Her eye, which had at first glanced wildly around. 
 
214 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 was turned on the ground ; her cheek, at first so deadly pale, 
 began gradually to be overspread with a faint blush, which 
 increased so fast that, when in agony of shame she strove to 
 conceal her face, her temples, her brow, her neck, and all 
 that her slender fingers and small palms could not cover, 
 became of the deepest crimson. 
 
 All marked and were moved by these changes, excepting 
 one. It was old Deans, who, motionless in his seat, and con- 
 cealed, as we have said, by the corner of the bench, from see- 
 ing or being seen, did nevertheless keep his eyes firmly fixed 
 on the ground, as if determined that, by no possibility what- 
 ever, would he be an ocular witness of the shame of his 
 house. 
 
 " Ichabod I" he said to himself — " Ichabod ! my glory is 
 departed I" 
 
 While these reflections were passing through his mind, the 
 indictment, which set forth in technical form the crime of 
 which the panel stood accused, was read as usual, and the 
 prisoner was asked if she was Guilty or Not Guilty. 
 
 " Not guilty of my poor bairn's death,'' said Effie Deans, 
 in an accent corresponding in plaintive softness of tone to the 
 beauty of her features, and which was not heard by the au- 
 dience without emotion. 
 
 The presiding Judge next directed the counsel to plead to 
 the relevancy ; that is, to state on either part the arguments 
 in point of law, and evidence in point of fact, against and in 
 favor of the criminal, after which it is the form of the Court 
 to pronounce a preliminary judgment, sending the cause to 
 the cognizance of the jury or assize. 
 
 The counsel for the crown briefly stated the frequency of 
 the crime of infanticide, which had given rise to the special 
 statute under which the panel stood indicted. He mentioned 
 the various instances, many of them marked with circum- 
 stances of atrocity, which had at length induced the King's 
 Advocate, though with great reluctance, to make the experi- 
 ment, whether, by strictly enforcing the Act of Parliament 
 which had been made to prevent such enormities, their occur- 
 rence might be prevented. " He expected," he said, "to be 
 able to establisli by witnesses, as well as by the declaration of 
 the panel herself, that she was in the state described by the 
 statute. According to his information, the panel had com- 
 municated her pregnancy to no one, nor did she allege in her 
 own declaration that she had done so. This secrecy was the 
 first requisite in support of the indictment. The same dec- 
 laration admitted that she had borne a male child, in cir- 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 2i5 
 
 oumstances which gave but too much reason to believe it had 
 died by the hands, or at least with the knowledge or consent, 
 of the unhappy motlier. It was not, however, necessary for 
 him to bring positive proof that the panel was accessory to 
 the murder, nay, nor even to prove that tlie child was murs- 
 dered at all. It was sufficient to support the indictment, 
 tliat it could not be found. According to the stern but neces- 
 sary severity of this statute, she who should conceal her preg- 
 nancy, who should omit to call that assistance which is most 
 necessary on such occasions, was held already to have medi- 
 ted the death of her offspring, as an event most likely to be 
 the consequence of her culpable and cruel concealment. And 
 if, under such circumstances, she could not alternatively show 
 by proof that the infant had died a natural death, or produce 
 it still in life, she must, under the construction of the law, 
 be held to have murdered it, and suffer death accordingly." 
 
 The counsel for the prisoner, Mr. Fairbrother, a man of 
 considerable fame in his profession, did not pretend directly 
 to combat the arguments of tlie King's Advocate. He began 
 by lamenting that his senior at the bar, Mr. Langtale, had 
 been suddenly called to tlie county of which he was sheriff, 
 and that he had been applied to, on short warning, to give 
 the panel his assistance in this interesting case. He had had 
 little time, he said, to make up for his inferiority to his 
 learned brother hy long and minute research ; and he was 
 afraid he might give a specimen of his incapacity by being 
 compelled to admit the accuracy of the indictment under the 
 statute. " It was enough for their Lordships," he observed, 
 "to know, that such was the law, and he admitted the Ad- 
 vocate had a right to call for the usual interlocutor of rel- 
 evancy." But he stated, " that when he came to establish 
 his case by proof, he trusted to make out circumstances 
 which would satisfactorily elide the charge in the libel. 
 Ilis client's story was a sliort but most melancholy one. She 
 was bred up in the strictest tenets of religion and virtue, the 
 daughter of a worthy and conscientious person, wlio, in e^dl 
 times, had established a character for courage and religion, 
 by becoming a sufferer for conscience' sake." 
 
 David Deans gave a convulsive start at hearing himself 
 thus mentioned, and then resumed the situation in which, 
 with his face stooped against his hands, and both resting 
 against the corner of the elevated bench on which the Judges 
 sat, he had hitherto listened to the procedure in the trial. 
 The Whig lawyers seemed to be interested ; the Tories put 
 up their lip. 
 
316 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 " Whatever may be our difference of opinion/' resumed 
 the lawyer, whose business it was to carry his whole audience 
 with him if possible, " concerning the peculiar tenets of these 
 people [here Deans groaned deeply], it is impossible to deny 
 them the praise of sound, and even rigid, morals, or the 
 merit of training up their children in the fear of God ; and 
 yet it was the daughter of such a person Avhom a Jury would 
 shortly be called upon, in the absence of evidence, and upon 
 mere presumptions, to convict of a crime more properly be- 
 longing to a heathen or a savage than to a Christian and civ- 
 ilized country. It was true," he admitted, "that the excel- 
 lent nurture and early instruction which the poor girl had 
 received had not been sufficient to preserve her from guilt 
 and error. She had fallen a sacrifice to an inconsiderate 
 affection for a young man of prepossessing manners, as he 
 had been informed, but of a very dangerous and desperate 
 character. She was seduced under promise of marriage — a 
 promise which the fellow might have, perhaps, done her jus- 
 tice by keeping, had he not at that time been called upon by 
 the law to atone for a crime, violent and desperate in itself, but 
 which became the preface to another eventful history, every 
 step of which was marked by blood and guilt, and the final 
 termination of which had not even yet arrived. He believed 
 that no one would hear him without surprise, when he stated 
 that the father of this infant now amissing, and said by the 
 learned Advocate to have been murdered, was no other than 
 the notorious George Robertson, the accomplice of Wilson, 
 the hero of the memorable escape from the Tolbooth Church, 
 and, as no one knew better than his learned friend the Ad- 
 vocate, the principal actor in the Porteous conspiracy." 
 
 " I am sorry to interrupt a counsel in such a case as the 
 present," said the presiding Judge ; " but I must remind the 
 learned gentleman that he is travelling out of the case be- 
 fore us." 
 
 The counsel bowed, and resumed. "^ He only judged it 
 necessary," he said, " to mention the name and situation of 
 Robertson, because the circumstance in which that character 
 was placed went a great way in accounting for the silence on 
 which his Majesty's counsel had laid so much weight, as afford- 
 ing proof that his client proposed to allow no fair play for its 
 life to the helpless being whom she was about to bring into 
 the world. She had not announced to her friends that she had 
 been seduced from the path of honor, and why had she not 
 done so ? Because she expected daily to be restored to char- 
 acter, by her seducer doing her that justice which she knew to 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 2« 
 
 be in his power, and believed to be in his inclination. Was 
 it natural, was it reasonable, was it fair, to expect that she 
 should, in the interim, become /e/o de se of her own character, 
 and proclaim her frailty to tlie world, when she had every 
 reason to expect that, by concealing it for a season, it might 
 be veiled forever ? Was it not, on the contrary, pardonable 
 tliat, in such an emergency, a young woman, in such a situa- 
 tion, should be found far from disposed to make a confidante 
 of every prying gossip who, with sharp eyes and eager ears, 
 pressed upon her for an explanation of suspicious circum- 
 stances, which females in the lower — he might say which fe- 
 males of all ranks are so alert in noticing, that they sometimes 
 discover them where they do not exist ? Was it strange, or 
 was it criminal, that she should have repelled their inquisi- 
 tive impertinence with petulant denials ? The sense and 
 feeling of all who heard him would answer directly in the 
 negative. But although his client had thus remained silent 
 towards those to whom she was not called ujjon to communi- 
 cate her situation — to whom," said the learned gentleman, " I 
 will add, it would have been unadvised and improper in her 
 to have done so ; yet I trust I shall remove this case most 
 triumphantly from under the statute, and obtain the unfort- 
 unate young woman an honorable dismission from your Lord- 
 ships' bar, by showing that she did, in due time and place, 
 and to a person most fit for such confidence, mention the 
 calamitous circumstances in which she found herself. This 
 occurred after Robertson's conviction, and when he was lying 
 in prison in expectation of the fate which his comrade Wilson 
 afterwards suffered, and from which he himself so strangely 
 escaped. It was then, when all hopes of having her honor 
 repaired by wedlock vanished from her eyes — when a union 
 with one in Eobertson's situation, if still practicable, might 
 perhaps have been regarded rather as an addition to her dis- 
 grace — it was then, that I trust to be able to prove that the 
 prisoner communicated and consulted with her sister, a young 
 woman several years older than herself, the daughter of her 
 father, if I mistake not, by a former marriage, upon the perils 
 and distress of her unhappy situation." 
 
 " If, indeed, you are able to instruct that point, Mr. Fair- 
 brother " said the presiding Judge. 
 
 " If I am indeed able to instruct that point, my lord," 
 resumed Mr. Fairbrother, " I trust not only to serve my 
 client, but to relieve your Lordships from that which I know 
 you feel the most painful duty of your high office ; and to 
 give all who now hear me the exquisite pleasure of beholding 
 
ai8 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 a creature so young, so ingenuous, and so beautiful as she 
 that is now at the bar of your Lordships' Court, dismissed 
 from thence in safety and in honor," 
 
 This address seemed to affect many of the audience, and 
 was followed by a slight murmur of applause. Deans, as he 
 heard his daughter's beauty and innocent appearance appealed 
 to, was involuntarily about to turn his eyes towards her ; but, 
 recollecting himself, he bent them again on the ground with 
 stubborn resolution. 
 
 " Will not my learned brother on the other side of the 
 bar," continued the advocate, after a short pause, " share in 
 this general joy, since I know, while he discharges his duty 
 in bringing an accused person here, no one rejoices more in 
 their being freely and honorably sent hence ? My learned 
 brother shakes his head doubtfully, and lays his hand on the 
 panel's declaration. I understand him perfectly : he would 
 insinuate that the facts now stated to your Lordships are in- 
 consistent with tlie confession of Euphemia Deans herself. 
 I need not remind your Lordships, that her present defence 
 is no whit to be narrowed within the bounds of her former 
 confession ; and that it is not by any account which she may 
 formerly have given of herself, but by what is now to be 
 proved for or against her, that she must ultimately stand or 
 fall. I am not under the necessity of accounting for her 
 choosing to drop out of her declaration the circumstances of 
 her confession to her sister. She might not be aware of its 
 importance ; she might be afraid of implicating her sister ; 
 she might even have forgotten the circumstance entirely, in 
 the terror and distress of mind incidental to the arrest of so 
 young a creature on a charge so heinous. Any of these rea- 
 sons are sufficient to account for her having suppressed the 
 truth in this instance, at whatever risk to herself ; and I in- 
 cline most to her erroneous fear of criminating her sister, be- 
 cause I observe she has had a similar tenderness towards her 
 lover, however undeserved on his part, and has never once 
 mentioned Robertson's name from beginning to end of her 
 declaration. 
 
 ''But, my lords," continued Fairbrother, '' I am aware the 
 King's Advocate will expect me to show that the proof I offer 
 is consistent with other circumstances of the case which I do 
 not and cannot deny. He will demand of me how Effie Deans's 
 confession to her sister, previous to her delivery, is reconcilable 
 with the mystery of the birth — with the disappearance, per- 
 haps the murder — for I will not deny a possibility which I 
 cannot disprove — of the infant. My lords, the explanation of 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 219 
 
 this is to be found in the placability, perchance I may say in the 
 facility and pliability, of the female sex. The dulcis Amaryl- 
 lidis ir(B, as your Lordships well know, are easily appeased ; 
 nor is it possible to conceive a woman so atrociously offended 
 by the man whom she has loved, but what she will retain a 
 fund of forgiveness upon which his penitence, whether real or 
 affected, may draw largely, with a certainty that his bills will 
 be answered. We can prove, by a letter produced in evidence, 
 that this villain Robertson, from the bottom of the dungeon 
 whence he already probably meditated the escape which he 
 afterwards accomplished by the assistance of his comrade, con- 
 trived to exercise authority over the mind, and to direct the 
 motions, of this unhappy girl. It was in compliance with his 
 injunctions, expressed in that letter, that the panel was pre- 
 vailed upon to alter the line of conduct which her own better 
 thoughts had suggested ; and, instead of resorting, when her 
 time of travail approached, to the protection of her own fam- 
 ily, was induced to confide herself to the charge of some vile 
 agent of this nefarious seducer, and by her conducted to one 
 of those solitary and secret purlieus of villany, which, to the 
 shame of our police, still are suffered to exist in the suburbs 
 of this city, where, with the assistance, and under the charge, 
 of a person of her own sex, she bore a male child, under cir- 
 cumstances which added treble bitterness to the woe denounced 
 against our original mother. What purpose Eobertson had 
 in all this, it is hard to tell or even to guess. He may have 
 meant to marry the girl, for her father is a man of substance. 
 But for the termination of the story, and the conduct of the 
 woman whom he had placed about the person of Euphemia 
 Deans, it is still more difficult to account. The unfortunate 
 young woman was visited by the fever incidental to her situa- 
 tion. In this fever she appears to have been deceived by the 
 person that waited on her, and, on recovering her senses, she 
 found that she was childless in that abode of misery. Her in- 
 fant had been carried off, perhaps for the worst purposes, by 
 the wretch that waited on her. It may have been murdered 
 for what I can tell." 
 
 He was here interrupted by a piercing shriek, uttered by 
 the unfortunate prisoner. She was with difficulty brought to 
 compose herself. Her counsel availed himself of the tragical 
 interruption to close his pleading with effect. 
 
 " My lords," Baid he, '^in that piteous cry you heard the 
 eloquence of maternal affection, far surpassing the force of my 
 poor words : Rachel weeping for her children ! Nature her- 
 self bears testimony in favor of the tenderness and acutenese 
 
230 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 of the prisoner's parental feelings. I will not dishonor hei 
 plea by adding a word more." 
 
 '' Heard ye ever the like o' that, Laird ? " said Saddletree 
 to Dumbiedikes, when the counsel had ended his speech. 
 " There's a chield can spin a muckle pirn out of a wee tait of 
 tow ! Deil haet he kens mair about it than what's in the 
 declaration, and a surmise that Jeanie Deans suld hae been 
 able to say something about her sister's situation, whilk sur- 
 mise, Mr. Crossmyloof says, rests on sma' authority. And 
 he's cleckit this great muckle bird out o' this wee egg ! He 
 could wile the very flounders out o' the Firth. What garr'd 
 my father no send me to Utrecht ? But whisht ! the Court 
 is gaun to pronounce the interlocutor of relevancy." 
 
 And accordingly the Judges, after a few words, recorded 
 their judgment, which bore, that the indictment, if proved, 
 was relevant to infer the pains of law ; and that the defence, 
 that the panel had communicated her situation to her sister, 
 was a relevant defence ; and, finally, appointed the said in- 
 dictment and defence to be submitted to the judgment of an 
 assize. 
 
CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 Most righteous judge ! a sentence. Come, prepare. 
 
 Merchant of Venice. 
 
 It is by no means my intention to describe minntely the 
 forms of a Scottish criminal trial, nor am I sure that I could 
 draw up an account so intelligible and accurate as to abide 
 the criticism of the gentlemen of the long robe. It is enough 
 to say that the jury was impanelled, and the case proceeded. 
 The prisoner was again required to plead to the charge, and 
 she again replied, " Not Guilty," in the same heart-thrilling 
 tone as before. 
 
 The crown counsel then called two or three female witnesses, 
 by whose testimony it was established that Effie's situation had 
 been remarked by them, that they had taxed her with the 
 fact, and that iier answers had amonnted to an angry and 
 petulant denial of what they charged her with. But, as very 
 frequently happens, the declaration of the panel or accused 
 party herself was the evidence which bore hardest upon her 
 case. 
 
 In the event of these Tales ever finding their way across 
 the Border, it may be proper to apprise the southern reader 
 that it is the practice in Scotland, on apprehending a sus- 
 pected person, to subject him to a judicial examination be- 
 fore a magistrate. He is not compelled to answer any of the 
 questions asked of him, but may remain silent if he sees it his 
 interest to do so. But whatever answers he chooses to give 
 are formally written down, and being subscribed by himself 
 and the magistrate, are produced against the accused in case 
 of his being brought to trial. It is true, that these declara- 
 tions are not produced as being in themselves evidence j)rop- 
 erly so called, but only as adminicles of testimony, tendmg to 
 corroborate what is considered as legal and proper evidence. 
 Notwithstanding this nice distinction^ however, introduced 
 by lawyers to reconcile this procedure to their own general 
 rule, that a man cannot be required to bear witness against 
 himself, it nevertheless usually happens that these declara- 
 tions become the means of condemning the accused, as it 
 
 9(U 
 
222 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 were, out of their own months. The prisoner, upon these 
 previous examinations, has indeed the privilege of remaining 
 silent if he pleases ; but every man necessarily feels that a re- 
 fusal to answer natural and pertinent interrogatories, put by 
 judicial authority, is in itself a strong proof of guilt, and will 
 certainly lead to his being committed to prison ; and few can 
 renounce the lioj^e of obtaining liberty by giving some spe- 
 cious account of themselves, and showing apparent frankness 
 in explaining their motives and accounting for their conduct. 
 It therefore seldom happens that the prisoner refuses to give 
 a judicial declaration, in which, nevertheless, either by let- 
 ting out too much of the truth, or by endeavoring to substi- 
 tute a fictitious story, he almost always exposes himself to 
 suspicion and to contradictions, which weigh heavily in the 
 minds of the jury. 
 
 The declaration of Effie Deans was uttered on other prin- 
 ciples, and the following is a sketch of its contents, given in 
 the judicial form in which they may still be found in the 
 Books of AcljouDiaL 
 
 The declarant admitted a criminal intrigue with an indi- 
 vidual whose name she desired to conceal. " Being interro- 
 gated, what her reason was for secrecy on this point ? She 
 declared, that she had no right to blame that person's conduct 
 more than she did her own, and that she was willing to con- 
 fess her own faults, but not to say anything which might 
 criminate the absent. Interrogated, if she confessed her 
 situation to any one, or made any preparation for her confine- 
 ment ? Declares, she did not. And being interrogated, why 
 she forbore to take steps which her situation so peremptorily 
 required ? Declares, she was ashamed to tell her friends, and 
 she trusted the person she has mentioned would provide for 
 her and the infant. Interrogated, if he did so ? Declares, 
 that he did not do so personally ; but that it was not his 
 fault, for that the declarant is convinced he would have laid 
 down his life sooner than the bairn or she had come to harm. 
 Interrogated, what prevented him from keeping his promise ? 
 Declares, that it was impossible for him to do so, he being 
 under trouble at the time, and declines further answer to this 
 question. Interrogated, where she was from the period she 
 left her master, Mr. Saddletree's family, until her appearance 
 at her father's, at St. Leonard's, the day before she was ap- 
 prehended ? Declares, she does not remember. And, on the 
 interrogatory being repeated, declares, she does not mind 
 muckle about it, for she was very ill. On the question being 
 again repeated, she declares, she will tell the truth, if it 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN SfiS 
 
 should be the nndoing of her, so long as she is not asked to 
 
 tell on other folk ; and admits, that she passed that interval 
 of time in the lodging of a woman, an acquaintance of that 
 person who had wished her to that place to be delivered, and 
 tliat she was tliere delivered accordingly of a male child. In- 
 terrogated, what was the name of that person ? Declares 
 and refuses to answer this question. Interrogated, where 
 she lives ? Declares, she has no certainty, for that she was 
 taken to the lodging aforesaid under cloud of night. Interro- 
 gated, if the lodging was in the city or suburbs ? Declares 
 and refuses to answer that question. Interrogated, whether, 
 when she left the house of Mr. Saddletree, she went up or 
 down the street ? Declares and refuses to answer the ques- 
 tion. Interrogated, whether she had ever seen the woman 
 before she was wished to her, as she termed it, by the person 
 whose name she refuses to answer ? Declares and replies, 
 not to her knowledge. Interrogated, whether this woman 
 was introduced to her by the said person verbally, or by word of 
 mouth ? Declares, she has no freedom to answer this ques- 
 tion. Interrogated, if the child was alive when it was born ? 
 Declares, that — God help her and it ! — it certainly was alive. 
 Interrogated, if it died a natural death after birth ? Declares, 
 not to her knowledge. Interrogated, where it now is ? De- 
 clares, she would give her right hand to ken, but that she 
 never hopes to see mair than the banes of it. And being 
 interrogated, why she supposes it is now dead ? the declarant 
 wept bitterly, and made no answer. Interrogated, if the 
 woman in whose lodging she was seemed to be a fit person to 
 be with her in that situation ? Declares, she might be fit 
 enough for skill, but that she was a hard-hearted bad woman. 
 Interrogated, if there was any other person in the lodging 
 excepting themselves two ? Declares, that she thinks there 
 was another woman ; but her head was so carried with pain 
 of body and trouble of mind that she minded her very little. 
 Interrogated, when the child was taken away from her ? De- 
 clared, that slie fell in a fever, and was light-headed, and when 
 she came to her own mind the woman told her the bairn was 
 dead ; and that the declarant answered, if it was dead it had 
 had foul play. That, thereupon, the woman was very sair om 
 her, and gave her much ill language ; and that the deponent 
 was frightened, and crawled out of tlie house when her back 
 was turned, and went home to St. Leonard's Crags, as well as 
 a woman in her condition dought. Interrogated, why she did 
 not tell her story to her sister and father, and get force to 
 search the house for her child, dead or alive ? Declares, it 
 
3-.'4 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 
 
 was her purpose to do so, but she had not time. Interrogated, 
 why she now conceals the name of the woman, and the place 
 of her abode ? The declarant remained silent for a time, and 
 then said, that to do so could not repair the skaith that was 
 done, but might be the occasion of more. Interrogated, 
 whether she had herself, at any time, had any purpose of put- 
 ting away the child by violence ? Declares, never ; so might 
 Grod be merciful to lier ; and then again declares, never, when 
 she was in her perfect senses ; but what bad thoughts the 
 Enemy might put into her brain when she was out of her- 
 self, slie cannot answer. And again solemnly interrogated, de- 
 clares, that she would have been drawn with wild horses rather 
 than have touched the bairn with an unmotherly hand. In- 
 terrogated, declares, that among the ill language the woman 
 gave her, she did say sure enough that the declarant had hurt 
 the l)airn when she was in the brain fever ; but that the 
 declarant does not believe that she said this from any other 
 cause than to frighten her, and make her be silent. Interro- 
 gated, what else the woman said to her ? Declares, that when 
 the declarant cried loud for her bairn, and was like to raise 
 the neighbors, the woman threatened her, that they that could 
 stop the wean's skirling would stop hers, if she did not keep 
 a' the lounder. And that this threat, with the manner of the 
 woman, made the declarant conclude that the bairn's life was 
 gone, and her own in danger, for that the woman was a desper- 
 ate bad woman, as the declarant judged, from the language 
 she used. Interrogated, declares, that the fever and delirium 
 were brought on her by hearing bad news, suddenly told to 
 her, but refuses to say what the said news related to. Interro- 
 gated, why she does not now communicate these particulars, 
 which might, perhaps, enable the magistrate to ascertain 
 whether the child is living or dead, and requested to observe, 
 that lier refusing to do so exposes her own life, and leaves the 
 child in bad hands, as also, that her present refusal to answer 
 on such points is inconsistent with her alleged intention to make 
 a clean breast to her sister ? Declares, that she kens the bairn 
 is now dead, or, if living, there is one that will look after 
 it ; that for her own living or dying, she is in God's hands, 
 who knows her innocence of harming her bairn with her will 
 or knowledge ; and that she has altered her resolution of speak- 
 ing out, which she entertained when she left the woman's 
 lodging, on account of a matter which she has since learned. 
 And declares, in general, that slie is wearied, and will answer 
 no more questions at this time." 
 
 Upon a subsequent examination, Euphemia Deans adhered 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 225 
 
 to the declaration she had formerly made, with this addition, 
 that a paper found in her trunk being shown to her, she ad- 
 mitted that it contained the credentials in consequence of 
 which slie resigned herself to the conduct of the woman at 
 whose lodgings slie was delivered of the child. Its tenor ran 
 thus : 
 
 ''Dearest Effie, 
 
 " I have gotten the means to send to you by a woman who 
 
 is well qualified to assist you in your approaching streight ; 
 she is not what I could wish her, but I cannot do better for 
 you in my present condition. I am obliged to trust to her in 
 this present calamity, for myself and you too. I hope for the 
 best, though I am now in a sore pinch ; yet thought is free. 
 I think Handle Dandie and I may queer the stiller for all that 
 is come and gone. You will be angry for me writing this to 
 my little Cameronian Lily ; but if I can but live to be a com- 
 fort to you, and a father to your baby, you will have plenty 
 of time to scold. Once more, let none know your counsel. 
 My life depends on this hag, d — n her ; she is both deep and 
 dangerous, but she has more wiles and wit than ever were in 
 a beldam's head, and has cause to be true to me. Farewell, 
 my Lily. Do not droop on my account ; in a week I will be 
 yours, or no more my own.^' 
 
 Then followed a postscript. ' ' If they must truss me, I will 
 repent of nothing so much, even at the last hard pinch, as 
 of the injury I have done my Lily.'' 
 
 Effie refused to say from whom she had received this let- 
 ter, but enough of the story was now known to ascertain that 
 it came from Robertson ; and from the date it appeared to 
 have been written about the time when Andrew Wilson, called 
 for a nickname Handle Dandie, and he were meditating their 
 first abortive attempt to escape, which miscarried in the man- 
 ner mentioned in the beginning of this history. 
 
 The evidence of the crown being concluded, the counsel 
 for the prisoner began to lead a proof in her defence. The 
 first witnesses were examined upon the girl's character. All 
 gave her an excellent one, but none with more feeling than 
 worthy Mrs. Saddletree, who, with the tears on her cheeks, 
 declared, that she could not have had a higher opinion of 
 Effie Deans, nor a more sincere regard for her, if she had 
 been her own daughter. All present gave the honest woman 
 credit for her goodness of heart, excepting her husband, who 
 whispered to Dumbiedikes, "That Nichil No vit of yours is 
 
336 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 but 9 raw hand at leading evidence, I^m thinking. What 
 signified his bringing a woman here to snotter and snivel, and 
 bather their Lordships ? He should hae ceeted me, sir, and 
 I should hae gien them sic a screed o' testimony, they shouldna 
 hae touched a hair o' her head/' 
 
 " Hadna ye better get up and try't yet ?" said the Laird. 
 " I'll mak a sign to Novit." 
 
 " Na, na,"said Saddletree, " thank ye fornaething, neigh- 
 bor : that would be ultroneous evidence, and I ken what be- 
 langs to that ; but Nichil Novit suld hae had me ceeted 
 debit teinpore." And wiping his mouth with his silk hand- 
 kerchief with great importance, he resumed the port and 
 manner of an edified and intelligent auditor. 
 
 Mr. Fairbrother now premised, in a few words, ''that he 
 meant to bring forward his most important witness, upon 
 whose evidence the cause must in a great measure depend. 
 What his client was, they had learned from the preceding 
 witnesses ; and so far as general character, given in the most 
 forcible terms, and even with tears, could interest every one 
 in her fate, she had already gained that advantage. It was 
 necessary, he admitted, that he should produce more positive 
 testimony of her innocence than what arose out of general 
 character, and this he undertook to do by the mouth of the 
 person to whom she had communicated her situation — by the 
 mouth of her natural counsellor and guardian — her sister. 
 Macer, call into court Jean or Jeanie Deans, daughter of 
 David Deans, cow-feeder, at St. Leonard's Crags." 
 
 When he uttered these words, the poor prisoner instantly 
 started up and stretched herself half-way over the bar, towards 
 the side at which her sister was to enter. And when, slowly 
 following the officer, the witness advanced to the foot of the 
 table, Effie, witli the whole expression of her countenance 
 altered from that of confused shame and dismay to an eager, 
 imploring, and almost ecstatic earnestness of entreaty, with 
 outstretched hands, hair streaming back, eyes raised eagerly 
 to her sister's face, and glistening through tears, exclaimed, 
 in atone which went through the heart of all who heard her — 
 *' Jeanie — Jeanie, save me — save me ! " 
 
 With a different feeling, yet equally appropriated to his 
 proud and self-dependent character, old Deans drew himself 
 back still further under the cover of the bench ; so that when 
 Jeanie, as she entered the court, cast a timid glance towards 
 the place at which she had left him seated, his venerable fig- 
 ure was no longer visible. He sat down on the other side of 
 Dumbiedikes, wrung his hand hard, and whispered, "Ah, 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN ^Sfl 
 
 Laird, this is warst of a' — if I can but win ower this part ! I 
 feel my head unco dizzy ; but my Master is strong in His ser- 
 vant's weakness." After a moment's mental prayer, he again 
 started up, as if impatient of continuing in any one posture, 
 and gradually edged himself forward towards the place he had 
 just quitted. 
 
 Jeanie in the meantime had advanced to the bottom of 
 the table, when, unable to resist the impulse of affection, she 
 suddenly extended her hand to her sister. Effie was just 
 within the distance that she could seize it with both hers, 
 press it to her mouth, cover it with kisses, and bathe it in 
 tears, with the fond devotion that a Catholic would pay to a 
 guardian saint descended for his safety ; while Jeanie, hiding 
 her own face with her other hand, wept bitterly. The sight 
 would have moved a heart of stone, much more of flesh and 
 blood. Many of the spectators shed tears, and it was some 
 time before the presiding Judge himself could so far subdue 
 his emotion as to request the witness to compose herself, and 
 the prisoner to forbear those marks of eager affection, which, 
 however natural, could not be permitted at that time and in 
 that presence. 
 
 The solemn oath — " the truth to tell, and no truth to con- 
 ceal, as far as she knew or should be asked," was then admin- 
 istered by the Judge " in the name of God, and as the wit- 
 ness should answer to God at the great day of judgment ; " an 
 awful adjuration, which seldom fails to make impression even 
 on the most hardened characters, and to strike with fear even 
 the most upright. Jeanie, educated in deep and devout 
 reverence for the name and attributes of the Deity, was, by 
 the solemnity of a direct appeal to His person and justice, 
 awed, but at the same time elevated above all considerations 
 save those which she could, with a clear conscience, call 
 Him to witness. She repeated the form in a low and reverent, 
 but distinct, tone of voice after the Judge, to whom, and not 
 to any inferior officer of the court, the task is assigned in 
 Scotland of directing the witness in that solemn appeal 
 which is the sanction of his testimony. 
 
 When the Judge had finished the established form, he 
 added, in a feeling, but yet a monitory, tone, an advice which 
 the circumstances appeared to him to call for. 
 
 " Young woman," these were his words, '' you corae before 
 this Court in circumstances which it would be worse than 
 cruel not to pity and to sympathize with. Yet it is my duty 
 to tell you, that the truth, whatever its consequences may be 
 ' — the truth is what you owe to your country, and to that God 
 
228 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 whose word is truth, and whose name you have now invoked. 
 Use your own time in answering the questions that gentleman 
 [pointing to the counsel] shall put to you. But remember, 
 that for what you may be tempted to say beyond what is the 
 actual truth, you must answer both here and hereafter.'' 
 
 The usual questions were then put to her : Whether any 
 one had instructed her what evidence she had to deliver ? 
 Whether any one had given or promised her any good deed, 
 hire, or reward for her testimony ? Whether she had any 
 malice or ill-will at his Majesty's Advocate, being the party 
 against whom she was cited as a witness ? To which ques- 
 tions she successively answered by a quiet negative. But their 
 tenor gave great scandal and ott'ence to her father, who was 
 not aware that they are put to every witness as a matter of 
 form. 
 
 " Na, na,'' he exclaimed, loud enough to be heard, " my 
 bairn is no like the widow of Tekoah : nae man has putten 
 words into her mouth." 
 
 " One of the Judges, better acquainted, perhaps, with the 
 Books of Adjo^irnal than with the Book of Samuel, was dis- 
 posed to make some instant inquiry after this widow of Te- 
 koah, who, as he construed the matter, had been tampering 
 with the evidence. But the presiding Judge, better versed in 
 Scripture history, whispered to his learned brother the neces- 
 sary explanation ; and the pause occasioned by this mistake 
 had the good effect of giving Jeanie Deans time to collect her 
 spirits for the painful task she had to perform. 
 
 Fairbrother, whose practice and intelligence were consid- 
 erable, saw the necessity of letting the witness compose her- 
 self. In his heart he suspected that she came to bear false 
 witness in her sister's cause. 
 
 " But that is her own affair," thought Fairbrother ; " and 
 it is my business to see that she has plenty of time to regain 
 composure, and to deliver her evidence, be it true or be it 
 false, valeat quantum." 
 
 Accordingly, he commenced his interrogatories with un- 
 interesting questions, which admitted of instant reply. 
 
 " You are, I think, the sister of the prisoner ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 ** Not the full sister, however ? " 
 
 " No, sir ; we are by different mothers." 
 
 *' True ; and you are, I think, several years older than 
 your sister ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir," etc. 
 
 After the advocate had conceived that, by these prelimi- 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 239 
 
 nary and unimportant questions, he had familiarized the wit- 
 
 ness with tlie situation in which she stood, he asked, '* whether 
 she had not remarked lier sister's state of health to be altered, 
 during the latter part of the term when she had lived with 
 Mrs. Saddletree ? '\ 
 
 Jeanie answered in the affirmative. 
 
 " And she told you the cause of it, my dear, I suppose H" 
 said Fairbrother, in an easy, and, as one may say, an inductive 
 sort of tone. 
 
 "I am sorry to interrupt my brother, '^ said the Crown 
 Counsel, rising, " but I am in your Lordships' judgment, 
 whether this be not a leading question ?'" 
 
 "' If this point is to be debated," said the presiding Judge, 
 *' the witness must be removed." 
 
 For the Scottish lawyers regard with a sacred and scrupu- 
 lous horror every question so shaped by the counsel examiniug 
 as to convey to a witness the least intimation of the nature of 
 the answer which is desired from him. These scruples, though 
 founded on an excellent principle, are sometimes carried to an 
 absurd pitch of nicety, especially as it is generally easy for a 
 lawyer who has his wits about him to elude the objection. 
 Fairbrother did so in the present case. 
 
 " It is not necessary to waste the time of the Court, my 
 lord ; since the King's Counsel thinks it worth while to 
 object to the form of my question, I will shape it otherwise. 
 Pray, young woman, did you ask your sister any question 
 when you observed her looking unwell ? Take courage — speak 
 out." 
 
 '* I asked her," replied Jeanie, " what ailed her." 
 
 " Very well — take your own time — and what was the an- 
 swer she made ? " continued Mr. Fairbrother. 
 
 Jeanie was silent, and looked deadly pale. It was not that 
 she at any one instant entertained an idea of the possibility of 
 prevarication : it was the natural hesitation to extinguishthe 
 last spark of hope that remained for her sister. 
 
 "Take courage, young woman," said Fairbrother. ''I 
 asked what your sister said ailed her when you inquired ? " 
 
 " Nothing," answered Jeanie, with a faint voice, which was 
 yet heard distinctly in the most distant corner of the court- 
 room — such an awful and profound silence had been preserved 
 during the anxious interval which had interposed betwixt the 
 lawyer's question and the answer of the witness. 
 
 Fairbrother's countenance fell ; but with that ready pres- 
 ence of mind which is as useful in civil as in military emergen- 
 cies, he immediately rallied. "Nothing? True ; you mean 
 
230 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 nothing at first; but when yon asked her again, did she not 
 tell you what ailed her ? " 
 
 The question was put in a tone meant to make her compre- 
 hend the importance of her answer, had she not been already 
 aware of it. The ice was broken, however, and with less pause 
 than at first, she now replied — " Alack ! alack ! she never 
 breathed word to me about it/' 
 
 A deep groan passed through the Court. It was echoed by 
 one deeper'and more agonized from the unfortunate father. 
 The hope, to which unconsciously, and in spite of himself, he 
 had still secretly clung, had now dissolved, and the venerable 
 old man fell forward senseless on the floor of the court-house, 
 with his head at the foot of his terrified daughter. The unfort- 
 unate prisoner, with impotent passion, strove with the guards 
 betwixt whom she was placed. " Let me gang to my father ! 
 I tvill gang to him — I loill gang to him ; he is dead — he is 
 killed ; I hae killed him ! " she repeated, in frenzied tones of 
 grief, which those who heard them did not speedily forget. 
 
 Even in this moment of agony and general confusion, Jeanie 
 did not lose that superiority which a deep and firm mind assures 
 to its possessor under the most trying circumstances. 
 
 " He is my father — he is our father," she mildly repeated 
 to those who" endeavored to separate them, as she stooped, 
 shaded aside his gray hairs, and began assiduously to chafe his 
 temples. 
 
 The Judge, after repeatedly wiping his eyes, gave directions 
 that they should be conducted into a neighboring apartment, 
 and carefully attended. The prisoner, as her father was borne 
 from the court, and her sister slowly followed, pursued them 
 with her eyes so earnestly fixed, as if they would have started 
 from theirsockets. But when they were no longer visible, she 
 seemed to find, in her despairing and deserted state, a courage 
 which she had not yet exhibited. 
 
 " The bitterness of it is now past," slie said, and then boldly 
 addressed the Court. " My lords, if it is your pleasure to gang 
 on wi' this matter, the weariest day will hae its end at last." 
 
 The Judge, who, much to his honor, had shared deeply in 
 the general sympathy, was surprised at being recalled to his 
 duty by the prisoner. He collected himself, and requested to 
 know if the panel's counsel had more evidence to produce. 
 Fairbrother replied, with an air of dejection, that his proof 
 was concluded. 
 
 The King's Counsel addressed the jury for the crown. He 
 said in few words, that no one could be more concerned than 
 he was for the distressing scene which they had just witnessed. 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 981 
 
 Bnt it was the necessary consequence of great crimes to bring 
 distress and ruin upon all connected with the perpetrators. 
 He briefly reviewed the proof, in which he showed that all the 
 circumstances of the case concurred with those required by 
 the act under which the unfortunate prisoner was tried : that 
 the counsel for the panel had totally failed in proving that 
 Euphemia Deans had communicated her situation to her sis- 
 ter ; that, respecting her previous good character, he was 
 sorry to observe, that it was females who possessed the world's 
 good report, and to whom it was justly valuable, who were 
 most strongly tempted, by shame and fear of the world's cen- 
 sure, to the crime of infanticide ; that the child was murdered, 
 he professed to entertain no doubt. The vacillating and in- 
 consistent declaration of the prisoner herself, marked as it 
 was by numerous refusals to speak the truth on subjects when, 
 according to her own story, it would have been natural, as 
 well as advantageous, to have been candid — even this imper- 
 fect declaration left no doubt in his mind as to the fate of the 
 unhappy infant. Neither could he doubt that the panel was 
 a partner in this guilt. Who else had an interest in a deed so 
 inhuman ? Surely neither Robertson, nor Robertson's agent, 
 in whose house she was delivered, had the least tempta- 
 tion to commit such a crime, unless upon her account, with 
 her connivance, and for the sake of saving her reputation. 
 But it was not required of him by the law that he should 
 bring precise proof of the murder, or of the prisoner's acces- 
 sion to it. It was the very purpose of the statute to substi- 
 tute a certain chain of presumptive evidence in place of a pro- 
 bation, which, in such cases, it was peculiarly difficult to 
 obtain. The jury might peruse the statute itself, and they 
 had also the libel and interlocutor of relevancy to direct them 
 in point of law. He put it to the conscience of the jury, 
 that under both he was entitled to a verdict of Guilty. 
 
 The charge of Fairbrother was much cramped by his hav- 
 ing failed in the proof which he expected to lead. But he 
 fought his losing cause with courage and constancy. He 
 v<sntured to arraign the severity of the statute under which the 
 young woman was tried. "In all other cases,'" he said, ''the 
 first thing required of the criminal prosecutor was, to prove 
 unequivocally tbat the crime libelled had actually been com- 
 mitted, which lawyers called proving the corpus delicti. But 
 this statute, made doubtless with the best intentions, and 
 under the impulse of a just horror for the unnatural crime of 
 infanticide, run the risk of itself occasioning the worst of 
 murders, the death of an innocent person, to atone for a sup- 
 
282 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 posed crime which may never have been committed by any one. 
 He was so far from acknowledging the alleged probability of 
 the child's violent death, that he could not even allow that 
 there was evidence of its having ever lived." 
 
 The King's Counsel pointed to the woman's declaration ; 
 to which the counsel replied — "A production concocted in 
 a moment of terror and agony,, and which approached to in- 
 sanity," he said, '' his learned brother well knew was no 
 sound evidence against the party who emitted it. It was 
 true, that a Judicial confession, in presence of the justices 
 themselves, was the strongest of all proof, in so much that it 
 is said in law, that*^ in confitentem nullce sunt partes nulicis' 
 But this was true of judicial confession only, by which law 
 meant that which is made in presence of the justices and the 
 sworn inquest. Of extrajudicial confession, all authorities 
 held with the illustrious Farinaceus and Matheus, 'confessio 
 extrajudicialis in se iiulla est; et quod nullum est, non po- 
 test adminiculari.' It was totally inept, and void of all 
 strength and effect from the beginning ; incapable, therefore, 
 of being bolstered up or supported, or, according to the law- 
 phrase, adminiculated, by other presumptive circumstances. 
 In the present case, therefore, letting the extrajudicial con- 
 fession go, as it ought to go, for nothing," he contended, 
 " the prosecutor had not made out the second quality of the 
 statute, that a live child had been born ; and that, at least, 
 ought to be established before presumptions were received 
 that it had been murdered. If any of the assize," he said, 
 " should be of opinion that this was dealing rather narrowly 
 with the statute, they ought to consider that it was in its 
 nature highly penal, and therefore entitled to no favorable 
 construction." 
 
 He concluded a learned speech with an eloquent perora- 
 tion on the scene they had just witnessed, during which Sad- 
 dletree fell fast asleep. 
 
 It was now the presiding Judge's turn to address the jury. 
 He did so briefly and distinctly. 
 
 ''It was for the jury," he said, "to consider whether the 
 prosecutor haa made out his plea. For himself, he sincerely 
 grieved to say that a shadow of doubt remained not upon his 
 mind concerning the verdict which the inquest had to bring 
 in. He would not follow the prisoner's counsel through the 
 impeachment which he had brought against the statute of 
 King William and Queen Mary. He and the jury were sworn 
 to judge according to the laws as they stood, not to criticise, 
 or to evade, or even to justify them. \n no civil case would 
 a counsel have bep" ^pfmitted to plead his client's case in the 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 288 
 
 teeth of the law ; but in the hard situation in which cotinsel 
 were often placed in the Criminal Court, as well as out of 
 favor to all presumptions of innocence, he had not inclined to 
 interrupt the learned gentleman, or narrow his plea. The 
 present law, as it now stood, had been instituted by the wis- 
 dom of their fathers, to check the alarming progress of a dread- 
 ful crime ; when it was found too severe for its purpose, it 
 would doubtless be altered by the wisdom of the legislature ; 
 at present it was the law of the laud, the rule of the court, and, 
 according to the oath which they had taken, it must be that 
 of tlie jury. This unhappy girl's situation could not be 
 doubted : that she had borne a child, and that the child had 
 disappeared, were certain facts. The learned counsel had 
 failed to show that she had communicated her situation. All 
 the requisites of the case required by the statute were there- 
 fore before the jury. The learned gentleman had, indeed, 
 desired them to throw out of consideration the panel's own 
 confession, which was the plea usually urged, in penury of all 
 others, by counsel in his situation, who usually felt that the 
 declarations of their clients bore hard on them. But that the 
 Scottish law designed that a certain weight should be laid on 
 these declarations, which, he admitted, were quodammodo ex- 
 trajudicial, was evident from the universal practice by which 
 they were always produced and read, as part of the prosecu- 
 tor's probation. In the present case, no person who had heard 
 the witnesses describe the appearance of the young woman 
 before she left Saddletree's house, and contrasted it with that 
 of her state and condition at her return to her father's, could 
 have any doubt tliat the fact of delivery had taken place, as 
 set forth in her own declaration, which was, therefore, not a 
 solitary piece of testimony, but adminiculated and supported 
 by the strongest circumstantial proof. 
 
 " He did not," he said, '• state the impression upon his own 
 mind with the purpose of biassing theirs. He had felt no less 
 than they had done from tlie scene of domestic misery which 
 had been exhibited before them ; and if they, having God and 
 a good conscience, the sanctity of their oath, and the regard 
 due to the law of the country, before their eyes, could come 
 to a conclusion favorable to this unhappy prisoner, he should 
 rejoice as much as any one in Court ; for never had he found 
 nis duty more distressing than in discharging it that day, and 
 glad he would be to be relieved from the still more painful 
 task which would otherwise remain for him." 
 
 The jury, having heard the Judge's address, bowed and re 
 tired, preceded by a macer of Court, to the apartment destined 
 for their deliberation. 
 
CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 Law, take thy victim. May she find the mercy 
 
 la yon mild lieaven, which this hard world denies her ! 
 
 It was an lionr ere the jarors returned, and as they traversed 
 the crowd with slow steps, as men about to discharge them- 
 selves of a heavy and painful responsibility, the audience was 
 hushed into profound, earnest, and awful silence. 
 
 " Have you agreed on your chancellor, gentlemen ?" was 
 the first question of the Judge. 
 
 The foreman, called in Scotland the chancellor of the jury, 
 usually the man of best rank and estimation among the as- 
 sizers, stepped forward, and, with a low reverence, delivered 
 to the Court a sealed paper, containing the verdict, which, 
 until of late years that verbal returns are in some instances 
 permitted, was always couched in writing. The jury remained 
 standing while the Judge broke the seals, and, having perused 
 the paper, handed it, Avith an air of mournful gravity, down 
 to the Clerk of Court, who proceeded to engross in the record 
 the yet unknown verdict, of which, however, all omened the 
 tragical contents. A form still remained, trifling and unim- 
 portant in itself, but to which imagination adds a sort of so- 
 lemnity, from the awful occasion upon which it is used. A 
 lighted candle was placed on tlie table, the original paper 
 containing the verdict was enclosed in a sheet of paper, and, 
 sealed witli the Judge's own signet, was transmitted to the 
 Grown Office, to be preserved among other records of the same 
 kind. As all this is transacted in profound silence, the pro- 
 ducing and extinguishing the candle seems a type of the human 
 spark wliich is shortly afterwards doomed to be quenched, and 
 excites in the spectators something of the same efl'ect which 
 in England is obtained by the Judge assuming the fatal cap 
 of judgment. When these preliminary forms had been gone 
 through, the Judge required Eupheraia Deans to attend to the 
 verdict to be read. 
 
 After the usual words of style, the verdict set forth, that 
 the jury, having made choice of John Kirk, Esq., to be 
 their chancellor, and Thomas Moore, merchant, to be their 
 
• THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 386 
 
 clerk, did, by a plurality of voices, find the said Eupliemia 
 Deans Guilty of the crime libelled ; but, in consideration of 
 her extreme youth, and the cruel circumstances of her case, 
 did earnestly entreat that the Judge would recommend her to 
 the mercy of the Crown. 
 
 " Gentlemen," said the Judge, " you have done your duty, 
 and a painful one it must have been to men of humanity like 
 you. I will, undoubtedly, transmit your recommendation to 
 the throne. But it is my duty to tell all who now hear me, 
 but especially to inform that unhappy young woman, in order 
 that her mind may be settled accordingly, that I have not the 
 least hope of a pardon being granted in the present case. 
 You know the crime has been increasing in this land, and I 
 know further, that this has been ascribed to the lenity in which 
 the laws have been exercised, and that there is therefore no 
 hope whatever of obtaining a remission for this offence.'' 
 The jury bowed again, and, released from their painful office, 
 dispersed themselves among the mass of bystanders. 
 
 The Court then asked Mr. Fairbrother wliether he had 
 anything to say, why judgment should not follow on the ver- 
 dict ? The counsel had spent some time in perusing and 
 re-perusing the verdict, counting the letters in each juror's 
 name, and weighing every phrase, nay, every syllable, in the 
 nicest scales of legal criticism. But the clerk of the jury had 
 understood his business too well. No flaw was to be found, 
 and Fairbrother mournfully intimated that he had nothing to 
 say in arrest of judgment. 
 
 The presiding Judge then addressed the unhappy prisoner : 
 *'Euphemia Deans, attend to the sentence of the Court now 
 to be pronounced against you." 
 
 She rose from her seat, and, with a composure far greater 
 than could have been augured from her demeanor during 
 some parts of the trial, abode the conclusion of the awful 
 scene. So nearly does the mental portion of our feelings re- 
 semble those which are corporal, that the first severe blows 
 which we receive bring with them a stunning apathy, which 
 renders us indifferent to those that follow them. Thus said 
 Mandrin,* when he was undergoing the punishment of the 
 wheel ; and so have all felt upon whom successive inflictions 
 have descended with continuous and reiterated violence. 
 
 " Young woman," said the Judge, '' it is my painful duty to 
 tell you, that your life is forfeited under a law which, if it may 
 seem in some degree severe, is yet wisely so, to render those of 
 
 * He was known as captain-general of French smugglers. See a Tract on his 
 exploits, printed 1753 iLaing) 
 
236 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 your unhappy situation aware what risk they run, by conceal- 
 ing, out of pride or false shame, their lapse from virtue, and 
 making no preparation to save the lives of the unfortunate 
 infants whom they are to bring into the world. When you 
 concealed your situation from your mistress, your sister, and 
 other worthy and compassionate persons of your own sex, in 
 whose favor your former conduct had given you a fair place, 
 you seem to me to have had in your contemplation, at least, 
 the death of the helpless creature for whose life you neglected 
 to provide. How the child was disposed of — whether it was 
 dealt upon by another, or by yourself ; whether the extraor- 
 dinary story you have told is partly false, or altogether so, is 
 between God and your own conscience. I will not aggravate 
 your distress by pressing on that topic, but I do most solemnly 
 adjure you to employ the remaining space of your time in 
 making your peace with Grod, for which purpose such reverend 
 clergyman as you yourself may name shall have access to you. 
 Notwithstanding the humane recommendation of the jury, I 
 cannot afford to you, in the present circumstances of the 
 country, the slightest hope that your life will be prolonged 
 beyond the period assigned for the execution of your sen- 
 tence. Forsaking, therefore, the thoughts of this world, let 
 your mind be prepared by repentance for those of more awful 
 moments — for death, judgment, and eternity. Doomster,* 
 read tlie sentence." 
 
 When the doomster showed himself, a tall haggard figure, 
 arrayed in a fantastic garment of black and gray, passemented 
 with silver lace, all fell back with a sort of instinctive horror, 
 and made wide way for him to approach the foot of the table. 
 As this office was held by the common executioner, men 
 shouldered each other backward to avoid even the touch of 
 his garment, and some were seen to brush their own clothes, 
 whicli had accidentar.y become subject to such contamination. 
 A sound went through the court, produced by each person 
 drawing in their breath hard, as men do when they expect or 
 witness what is frightful, and at the same time affecting. The 
 caitiff villain yet seemed, amid his hardened brutality, to have 
 some sense of his being the object of public detestation, which 
 made him impatient of being in public, as birds of evil omen 
 are anxious to escape from daylight and from pure air. 
 
 Repeating after the Clerk of Court, he gabbled over the 
 words of the sentence, which condemned Euphemia Deans to 
 be conducted back to the tolbooth of Edinburgh, and detained 
 there until Wednesday the day of — — ; and upon ,%at 
 
 * See Note 26 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 227 
 
 day, betwixt the hours of two and four o'clock afternoon, to be 
 conveyed to the common place of execution, and there hanged 
 by the neck upon a gibbet. '* And this," said the doomster, 
 aggravating his harsh voice, "I pronounce for doom." 
 
 He vanished when he had spoken the last emphatic word, 
 like a foul fiend after the purpose of his visitation has been 
 accomplished ; but the impression of horror excited by hia 
 presence and his errand remained upon the crowd of specta- 
 tors. 
 
 The unfortunate criminal — for so she must now be termed 
 — with more susceptibility and more irritable feelings than her 
 father and sister, was found, in this emergence, to possess a 
 considerable share of their courage. She had remained stand- 
 ing motionless at the bar while the sentence was pronounced, 
 and was observed to shut her eyes when the doomster appeared. 
 But she was the first to break silence when that evil form had 
 left his place. 
 
 " God forgive ye, my lords," she said, *'and dinna be angry 
 wi' me for wishing it — we a' need forgiveness. As for myself, 
 I canna blame ye, for ye act up to your lights ; and if I havena 
 killed my poor infant, ye may witness a' that hae seen it this 
 day, that I hae been the means of killing my gray-headed 
 father. I deserve the warst f rae man, and frae God too. But 
 God is mair mercifu' to us than we are to each other." 
 
 Witli these words the trial concluded. The crowd rushed, 
 bearing forward and shouldering each other, out of the court 
 in the same tumultuary mode in which they had entered ; and, 
 in the excitation of animal motion and animal spirits, soon 
 forgot whatever they had felt as impressive in the scene which 
 they had witnessed. The professional spectators, whom liabit 
 and theory had rendered as callous to the distress of the scene 
 as medical men are to those of a surgical operation, walked 
 homeward in groups, discussing the general principle of the 
 statute under which the young woman was condemned, the 
 nature of the evidence, and the arguments of the counsel, 
 without considering even that of the Judge as exempt from 
 their criticism. 
 
 The female spectators, more compassionate, were loud in 
 exclamation against that part of the Jiidge's speech which 
 seemed to cut off the hope of pardon. 
 
 " Set him up, indeed," said Mrs. Howden, "to tell us that 
 the poor lassie behoved to die, when Mr. John Kirk, as civil a 
 gentleman as is within the ports of the town, took the pains to 
 prigg for her himsell." 
 
 "Ay, but, neighbor," said Miss Damahoy, drawing up her 
 
288 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 thin maidenly form to its full height of prim dignity, "I 
 really think this unnatural business of having bastard bairns 
 should be putten a stop to. There isna a hussy now on this 
 side of thirty that you can bring within your doors, but there 
 will be chields — writer-lads, prentice-lads, and what not — 
 coming traiking after them for their destruction, and discred- 
 iting ane's honest house into the bargain. I liae nae patience 
 wi' them." 
 
 " Hout, neighbor," said Mrs. Howden, '•' wesuld live and 
 let live ; we hae been young oursells, and we are no aye to 
 judge the warst when lads and lasses forgather." 
 
 " Young oursells ! and judge the warst ! " said Miss Dama- 
 hoy. "I am no sae auld as that comes to, Mrs. Howden; 
 and as for what ye ca' the warst, I ken neither good nor bad 
 about the matter, I thank my stars ! " 
 
 ''^ Ye are thankfu' for sma' mercies, then," said Mrs. How- 
 den, with a toss of her head ; " and as for you and young — I 
 trow ye were doing for yourselj at the last riding of the Scots 
 Parliament, and that was in the gracious year seven, sae ye 
 can be nae sic chicken at ony rate." 
 
 Plumdamas, who acted as squire of the body to the two 
 contending dames, instantly saw the hazard of entering into 
 such delicate points of chronology, and being a lover of peace 
 and good neighborhood, lost no time in bringing back the con- 
 versation to its original subject. " The Judge didna tell us 
 a* he could hae tell'd us, if he had liked, about the applica- 
 tion for pardon, neighbors," said he ; ** there is aye a v/imple 
 in a lawyer's clue ; but it's a wee bit of a secret." 
 
 "And what is't ? — what is't, neighbor Plumdamas?" 
 said Mrs. Howden and Miss Damahoy at once, the acid fer- 
 mentation of their dispute being at once neutralized by the 
 powerful alkali implied in the word " secret." 
 
 " Here's Mr. Saddletree can tell ye that better than me, 
 for it was lii'n that tauld me," said Plumdamas, as Saddle- 
 ^oree came up, with his wife hanging on his arm and looking 
 very disconsolate. 
 
 When the question was put to Saddletree, he looked very 
 scornful. ** They speak about stopping the frequency of child- 
 murder," said he, in a contemptuous tone ; "do ye think our 
 auld enemies of England, as Glendook aye ca's them in his 
 printed Statute-book, care a boddle whether we didna kill 
 ane anither, skin and birn, horse and foot, man, woman, and 
 bairns, all and sindry, omnes et singulos, as Mr. Crossmyloof 
 says ? Na, na, it's no that hinders them frae pardoning the 
 bit lassie. But here is the jy^^ob of the plea. The king and 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 389 
 
 queen are sae ill pleased wi' that mistak about Porteous, that 
 deil a kindly Scot will they paidon again, either by reprieve 
 or remission, if the haill town o' Edinburgh should be a' 
 hanged on ae tow." 
 
 " Deil that they were back at their German kale-yard, 
 then, as my neighbor MacCroskie ca's it," said Mrs. Howden, 
 *'an that's the way they're gaun to guide us \" 
 
 " They say for certain," said Miss Damahoy, " that King 
 Ueorge fiang his periwig in the fire when he heard o' tlie Por- 
 teous mob." 
 
 " He has done that, they say," replied Saddletree, "for less 
 thing." 
 
 " Aweel," said Miss Damahoy, " he might keep mair wit 
 in his anger ; but it's a' tlie better for his wigmaker, Fse 
 warrant." 
 
 " The queen tore her biggonets for perfect anger, ye'll 
 hae heard o' tliat too ?" said Plumdamas. " And the king, 
 they say, kickit Sir Robert Walpole for no keeping down the 
 mob of Edinburgli ; but I dinna believe he wad beliave sae 
 ungenteel." 
 
 "It's dooms truth, though," said Saddletree; "and he 
 was for kickin' tlie Duke of Argyle* too." 
 
 "Kickin' the Duke of Argyle !" exclaimed the hearers at 
 once, in all the various combined keys of utter astonishment. 
 
 " Ay,but MacCallummore's blood wadna sit down wi' that ; 
 tliere was risk of Andro Ferrara coming in thirdsman." 
 
 " The Duke is a real Scotsman — a true friend to the coun- 
 try," answered Saddletree's hearers. 
 
 "Ay, troth is he, to king and country baith, as ye sail 
 hear," continued the orator, "if ye will come in bye to our 
 house, for it's safest speaking of sic things inter jjarietes." 
 
 Wlien they entered his shop he thrust his prentice boy out 
 of it, and, unlocking his desk, took out, with an air of grave 
 and complacent importance, a dirty and crumpled piece of 
 printed paper. He observed, " This is new corn ; it's no 
 everybody could show ye the like o' this. It's tlie Duke's 
 speech about the Porteous mob, just promulgated by the 
 hawkers. Ye shall hear what Ian Roy Ceaii f says for him- 
 sell. My correspondent bought it in the palace-yard, that's 
 like Just under the king's nose. I think he claws up their 
 mittens ! It came in a letter about a foolish bill of exchange 
 that the man wanted me to renew for him. I wish ye wad 
 see about it, Mrs. Saddletree." 
 
 * See John Duke of Argyle and Greenwich. Note 27. 
 
 t Red John t/ae Warrior, a name persona 1 and proper in the Highlands to John 
 Shike of Argjria and Qre«Bwicii, ad.uiiacCuiuiuiu was that of Jiis race or djrnaaty. 
 
84U V.'AVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 Honest Mrs. Saddletree had hitherto been so sincerely dis- 
 tressed about the situation of her unfortunate protegee, that 
 she had suffered her husband to proceed in his own way, 
 witnout attending to what he was saying. The words "bill'' 
 and " renew " had, however, an awakening sound in them ; 
 and she snatched the letter which her liusband held towards 
 her, and wiping her eyes, and putting on her spectacles, en- 
 deavored, as fast as the dew which collected on her glasses 
 would permit, to get at the meaning of the needful part of 
 the epistle ; while her husband, with pompous elevation, read 
 an extract from the speech. 
 
 " I am no minister, I never was a minister, and I never 
 will be one '" 
 
 '" I didna ken his Grace was ever designed for the minis- 
 try," interrupted Mrs. Howden, 
 
 '' He disna mean a minister of the Gospel, Mrs. How- 
 den, but a minister of state," said Saddletree, with con- 
 descending goodness, and then proceeded : " The time waa 
 when I might have been a piece of a minister, but I waa 
 too sensible of my own incapacity to engage in any state af- 
 fair. And I thank God that I had always too great a value 
 for those few abilities which nature has given me, to employ 
 them in doing any drudgery, or any Job of what kind soever. 
 I have, ever since I set out in the world — and I believe few 
 have set out more early — -served my prince with my tongue ; I 
 have served him with any little interest I had ; and I have served 
 him with my sword, and in my profession of arms. I have 
 held employments which I have lost, and were I to be to-mor- 
 row deprived of those which still remain to me, and which I 
 have endeavored honestly to deserve, I would still serve him 
 to the last acre of ray inheritance, and to the last drop of 
 my blood -" 
 
 Mrs. Saddletree here broke in upon the orator. ''Mr. 
 Saddletree, what is the meaning of a' this ? Here are ye 
 clavenng about the Duke of Argyle, and this man Martin- 
 gale gaun to break on our hands, and lose us gude sixty 
 pounds. I wonder what duke will pay that, quotha. I wish 
 the Duke of Argyle would pay his ain accounts. He is in a 
 thousand punds Scots on thae very books when he was last at 
 Roystoun. I'm no saying but he's a just nobleman, and that 
 it's gude siller ; but it wad drive ane daft to be confused wi' 
 deukes and drakes, and thae distressed folk upstairs, that's 
 Jeanie Deans and her father. And then, putting the very 
 callant that was sewing the curpelout o'the shop, to play wi' 
 blackguards in the close. Sit still, neighbors, it's no that I 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 241 
 
 mean to disturb poi/ ; but wlifit between courts o' law and 
 courts o' state, and upper and under parliaments, and parlia- 
 ment houses, here and in London, the gudeman's gane clean 
 gyte, I think." 
 
 The gossips understood civility, and the rule of doing as 
 they would be done by, too well to tarry upon the slight in- 
 vitation implied in the conclusion of this speech, and there- 
 fore made their farewells and departure as fast as possible, 
 Saddletree whispering to Plumdamas that he would ''meet 
 him at MacCroskie's (the low-browed shop in the Lucken- 
 booths [Lawnmarket], already mentioned) in the hour of 
 cause, and put MacCallummore's speech in his pocket, for a' 
 tJie gudewife's din." 
 
 When Mrs. Saddletree saw the house freed of her import- 
 unate visitors, and the little boy reclaimed from the pastimes 
 of the wynd to the exercise of the awl, she went to visit her 
 unhappy relative, David Deans, and his elder daugliter, whc 
 had f oup-d in her house the nearest place of friendly refuge,, 
 
CHAPTER XXV 
 
 tsdb. Alas I what poor ability's in me 
 
 To do him good ? 
 Inido. As8ay tlie power you have. 
 
 Measure for Measur 3. 
 
 When Mrs. i::5addletree entered the apartment in which her 
 guests had shrouded their misery, she found the window dark- 
 ened. The feebleness which followed lus. long swoon had 
 rendered it necessary to lay the old man in oed. The curtains 
 were drawn around him, and Jeanie sat motionless by the side 
 of the bed. Mrs. Saddletree was a woman of kindness, nay, 
 of feeling, but not of delicacy. She opened the half-shut win- 
 dow, drew aside the curtain, and taking her kinsman by the 
 hand, exhorted him to sit up and bear his sorrow like a good 
 man, and a Christian man, as he was. But when she quitted 
 his hand it fell powerless by his side, nor did he attempt the 
 least reply. 
 
 '• Is ail over ? '* asked Jeanie, with lips and cheeks as pale 
 as ashes. " And is there nae hope for her ?" 
 
 " Nane, or next to uane,"said Mrs. Saddletree ; "^I heard 
 the Judge-carle say ifc with my ain ears. It was a burning 
 shame to see sae mony o' them set up yonder in their red gowns 
 and black gowns, and a' to take the life o' a bit senseless lassie. 
 I had never mackle broo o' my gudeman's gossips, and now I 
 like them waur than ever. The only wise-like thing I heard 
 onybody say was decent Mr. John Kirk, of Kirk Knowe, and 
 he wassed them just to get the king's mercy, and nae mair 
 about it. Bat he spake to nnreasonab .e folk ; he might just 
 hae keepit his breath to hae blawn on his porridge." 
 
 ** But can the king gie her mercy ? " said Jeanie, earn- 
 estly. '^ Some folk tell me he canna gie mercy in cases of 
 mur -in cases like hers." 
 
 *' Can lie gie mercy, hinny ? I weel I wot he can, when 
 he likes. There was young Singlesword, that stickit the 
 Laird of Ballencleuch ; and Captain Hacknm, the English- 
 man, that killed Lady Colgrain's gudeman ; and the Mastei 
 of St. Clair, that shot the twa Shaws ; * and mony mair in 
 
 * See Murder of the Two Shaws. Note 88. 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 943 
 
 my time — to be sure they were gentle bluid, and had their kin 
 to speak for them — and there was Jock Porteous, the other 
 day. I'se warrant tliere's mercy, an folk could win at it." 
 
 " Porteous !" said Jeanie ; "very true, I forget a' that I 
 suld maist mind. Fare ye weel, Mrs. Saddletree; and may 
 ye never want a friend in the hour o' distress ! " 
 
 " Will ye no stay wi' your father, Jeanie, bairn ? Ye had 
 better," said Mrs. Saddletree, 
 
 " I will be wanted ower yonder," indicating the tolbooth 
 with her hand, " and I maun leave him now, or I will never 
 be able to leave him. I f earna for his life ; I ken how strong- 
 hearted he is — I ken it/' she said, laying her hand on her 
 bosom, " by ray ain heart at this minute." 
 
 " Weel, hinny, if ye think it's for the best, better he stay 
 here and rest him than gang back to St. Leonard's." 
 
 " Muckle better — muckle better ; God bless yon — God 
 bless you ! At no rate let him gang till ye hear frae me," 
 eaid Jeanie. 
 
 "But ye'll be back belyve ?" said Mrs. Saddletree, detain- 
 ing her ; "they wunna let ye stay yonder, hinny." 
 
 " But I maun gang to St. Leonard's ; there's muckle to be 
 dune and little time to do it in. And I have friends to speak 
 to. God bless you ! take care of my father." 
 
 She had reached the door of the apartment when, suddenly 
 turning, she came back and knelt down by the bedside. " 
 father, gie me your blessing ; I dare not go till ye bless me. 
 Say but ' God bless ye and prosper ye, Jeanie ; ' try but to 
 say that ! " 
 
 Instinctively, rather than by an exertion of intellect, the 
 old man murmured a prayer that " purchased and promised 
 blessings might be multiplied upon her." 
 
 " He has blessed mine errand/' said his daughter, rising 
 from her knees, "and it is borne in upon my mind that I 
 shall prosper." 
 
 So saying, she left the room. 
 
 Mrs, Saddletree looked after her, and shook her head. ** I 
 wish she binna roving, poor thing. There's something queer 
 about a' thae Deanses. I dinna like folk to be sae muckle 
 better than other folk ; seldom comes gude o't. But if she's 
 gaun to look after the kye at St. Leonard's, that's another 
 story ; to be sure they maun be sorted. Grizzle, come up here 
 and take tent to the honest auld man, and see he wants nae- 
 thing. Ye silly tawpie [addressing the maid-servant as she 
 entered], what garr'd ye busk up your cockernony that gate ? 
 I think there's been eneugh the day to gie an awf u' warning 
 
344 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 about your cock-ups and your fal-lal duds ; see what they a' 
 come to,'^ etc., etc., etc. 
 
 Leaving the good lady to her lecture upon worldly vanities, 
 we must transport our reader to the cell in which the unfortu- 
 nate Effie Deans was now immured, being restricted of several 
 liberties which she had enjoyed before the sentence was pro- 
 nounced. 
 
 When she had remained about an hour in the state of stu- 
 pefied horror so natural in her situation, she was disturbed by 
 the opening of the jarring bolts of her place of confinement, 
 and Ratcliffe showed himself. " It's your sister," he said, 
 "wants to speak t'ye, Effie." 
 
 "^ I canna see naebod}^," said Effie, with the hasty irrita- 
 bility which misery had rendered more acute — " I canna see 
 naebody, and least of a' her. Bid her take care of the auld 
 man : I am naething to ony o' them now, nor them to me." 
 
 " She says she maun see ye, though," said Eatcliffe ; and 
 Jeanie, rushing into the apartment, threw her arms round 
 her sister's neck, who writhed to extricate herself from her 
 embrace. 
 
 '• What signifies coming to greet ower me," said poor Effie, 
 " when you have killed me ? killed me, when a word of your 
 mouth would have saved me ; killed me, when I am an inno- 
 cent creature — innocent of that guilt, at least — and me that 
 wad hae wared body and soul to save your finger from being 
 hurt!" 
 
 " You shall not die," said Jeanie, with enthusiastic firm- 
 ness ; " say what ye like o' me, think what ye like o' me, only 
 promise — for I doubt your proud heart — that ye wunna harm 
 yourself, and you shall not die this shameful death." 
 
 ''A shameful death I will not die, Jeanie, lass. I have 
 that in my heart, though it has been ower kind a ane. that 
 wunna bide shame. Gae hame to our father, and think nae 
 mair on me : I have eat my last earthly meal." 
 
 " 0, this was what I feared !" said Jeanie. 
 
 " Hout, tout, hinny," said Ratcliffe ; " it's but little ye 
 ken o' thae things. Ane aye thinks at the first dinnle o' the 
 sentence, they hae heart eneugh to die rather than bide out 
 the sax weeks ; but they aye bide the sax weeks out for a' 
 that. I ken the gate o't weel ; I hae fronted the doomster 
 three times, and here I stand, Jim Ratcliffe, for a' that. Had 
 I tied my napkin strait the first time, as I had a great mind 
 till't — and it was a' about a bit gray cowt, wasna worth ten 
 punds sterling — where would I have been now ? " 
 
 "And how did you escape? "said Jeanie, the fates of 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN . 348 
 
 this man, at first so odious to her, having acquired a sudden 
 interest in her eyes from their correspondence with those of 
 her sister. 
 
 " Hoio did I escape? " said Ratcliffe, with a knowing wink. 
 *'l tell ye I ^scapit in a way that naebody will escape from 
 this tolbooth while I keep the keys." 
 
 "My sister shall come out in the face of the sun," said 
 Jeanie ; " I will go to London and beg her pardon from the 
 king and queen. If they pardoned Porteous, they may par- 
 don her ; if a sister asks a sister's life on her bended knees, 
 they will pardon her — they shall pardon her — and they will 
 win a thousand hearts by it." 
 
 Efhe listened in bewildered astonishment, and so earnest 
 was her sister's enthusiastic assurance, that she almost in- 
 voluntarily caught a gleam of hope ; but it instantly faded 
 away. 
 
 " Ah, Jeanie ! the king and queen live in London, a thou- 
 sand miles from this — far ayont the saut sea ; I'll be gane 
 before ye win there ! " 
 
 "You are mistaen,"said Jeanie; "it is no sae far, and 
 they go to it by land : I learned something about thae things 
 from Eeuben Butler." 
 
 " Ah, Jeanie ! ye never learned onything but what was 
 
 gude frae the folk ye keepit company wi' ; but I — but I " 
 
 Bhe wrung her hands and wept bitterly. 
 
 " Dinna think on that now," said Jeanie ; " there will be 
 time for that if the present space be redeemed. Fare ye weel! 
 Unless I die by the road, I will see tlie king's face that gies 
 grace. 0, sir [to Ratcliffe], be kind to her. She ne'er 
 kenn'd what it was to need stranger's kindness till now. 
 Fareweel — fareweel, Effie ! Dinna speak to me ; I maunna 
 greet now, my head's ower dizzy already ! " 
 
 She tore herself from her sister's arms, and left the cell. 
 Ratcliffe followed her, and beckoned her into a small room. 
 She obeyed his signal, but not without trembling. 
 
 " What's the fule thing shaking for ? " said he ; "I mean 
 nothing but civility to you. D — n me, I respect you, and I 
 can't help it. You have so much spunk, that — d — n me, but I 
 think there's some chance of your carrying the day. But yon 
 must not go to the king till you have made some friend ; try 
 the Duke — try MacCallummore ; he's Scotland's friend. I 
 ken that the great folks dinna muckle like him ; but they 
 fear him, and that will serve your purpose as weel. D'ye ken 
 naebody wad gie ye a letter to him ? " 
 
 " Duke of Argyle ! " said Jeanie, recollecting herself sud- 
 
MQ WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 denly. " What was he to that Argyle that suffered in my 
 father's time — in the persecution ? " 
 
 " His son or grandson, Fm thinking," said Ratcliffe ; " bat 
 what o' that ? " 
 
 " Thank God ! " said Jeanie, devoutly clasping her hands. 
 
 " You Whigs are aye thanking Grod for something," said 
 the ruffian. " But hark ye, hinny, I'll tell ye a secret. Ye 
 may meet wi' rough customers on the Border, or in the Mid- 
 land, afore ye get to Lunnon, Now, deil ane o' them will 
 touch an acquaintance o' Daddie Ratton's ; for though I am 
 retired frae public practice, yet they ken I can do a gude or 
 an ill turn yet ; and deil a gude fellow that has been but a 
 twelvemonth on the lay, be he ruffier or padder, but he knows 
 my gybe as well as the jark of e'er a queer cuffin in England 
 — and there's rogue's Latin for you." 
 
 It was, indeed, totally unintelligible to Jeanie Deans, who 
 was only impatient to escape from him. He hastily scrawled 
 a line or two on a dirty piece of paper, and said to her, as she 
 drew back when he offered it, " Hey ! what the deil ! it wunna 
 bite you, my lass ; if it does nae gude, it can do nae ill. But 
 I wish you to show it if you have ony fasherie wi' ony o' St. 
 Nicholas's clerks. " 
 
 " Alas ! " said she, *^ I do not understand what you mean?'* 
 
 '^ 1 mean, if ye fall among thieves, my precious ; that is 
 a Scripture phrase, if ye will hae ane. The bauldest of them 
 will ken a scart o' my guse feather. And now awa' wi' ye, 
 and stick to Argyle ; if onybody can do the job, it maun be 
 him." 
 
 .After casting an anxious look at the grated windows and 
 blackened walls of the old tolbooth, and another scarce less 
 anxious at the hospitable lodging of Mrs. Saddletree, Jeanie 
 turned her back on that quarter, and soon after on the city 
 itself. She reached St. Leonard's Crags without meeting any 
 one whom she knew, which, in the state of her mind, she 
 considered as a great blessing. " I must do naething," she 
 thought, as she went along, " that can soften or weaken my 
 heart : it's ower weak already for what I hae to do. I will 
 think and act as firmly as I can, and speak as little." 
 
 There was an ancient servant, or rather cottar, of her 
 father's, who had lived under him for many years, and whose 
 fidelity was worthy of full confidence. She sent for this 
 woman, and explaining to her that the circumstances of her 
 family required that she should undertake a journey which 
 would detain her for some weeks from home, she gave her 
 full instructions concerning the management of the domestio 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 247 
 
 affairs in her absence. With a precision which, upon reflec- 
 tion, she herself could not help wondering at, she described 
 and detailed the most minute steps which were to be taken, 
 and especially such as Avere necessary for her father's comfort. 
 "It was probable," she said, "that he would return to St. 
 Leonard's to-morrow — certain that he would return very 
 soon ; all must be in order for him. He had eneugh to dis- 
 tress him, without being fashed about warldly matters." 
 
 In the meanwhile she toiled busily, along with May Hettly, 
 to leave nothing unarranged. 
 
 It was deep in the night when all these matters were set- 
 tled; and when they had partaken of some food, the first which 
 Jeanie had tasted on that eventful day, May Hettly, whose 
 usual residence was a cottage at a little distance from Deaus's 
 house, asked her young mistress whether she would not per- 
 mit her to remain in the house all night. "' Ye hae had an 
 awfu' day," she said, "and sorrow and fear are but bad com- 
 panions in the watches of the night, as I hae heard the gude- 
 man sayhimsell." 
 
 *' They are ill companions indeed," said Jeanie ; "but I 
 maun learn to abide their presence, and better begin in the 
 house than in the field." 
 
 She dismissed her aged assistant accordingly — for so slight 
 was the gradation in their rank of life that we can hardly 
 term May a servant — and proceeded to make a few prepara- 
 tions for her journey. 
 
 The simplicity of her education and country made these 
 preparations very brief and easy. Her tartan screen served 
 all the purposes of a riding-habit and of an umbrella ; a small 
 bundle contained such changes of linen as were absolutely 
 necessary. Barefooted, as Sancho says, she had come into 
 the world, and barefooted she proposed to perform her pil- 
 grimage ; and her clean shoes and change of snow-white thread 
 stockings were to be reserved for special occasions of ceremony. 
 She was not aware that the English habits of comfort attach 
 an idea of abject misery to the idea of a barefooted traveller ; 
 and if the objection of cleanliness had been made to the prac- 
 tice, she would have been apt to vindicate herself upon the 
 very frequent ablutions to which, with Mahometan scrupulos- 
 ity, a Scottish damsel of some condition usually subjects her- 
 self. Thus far, therefore, all was well. 
 
 From an oaken press or cabinet, in which her father kept a 
 few old books, and two or three bundles of papers, besides his 
 ordinary accounts and receipts, she sought out and extracted 
 from a parcel of notes of sermons, calculations of interestj rec- 
 
248 WAVE RLE Y NOVELS 
 
 ords of dying speeches of the martyrs, and the like, one or two 
 documents which she thought might be of some use to her upon 
 tier mission. But the most important difficulty remained be- 
 hind, and it had not occurred to her until that very evening. 
 It was the want of money, without which it was impossible she 
 could undertake so distant a journey as she now meditated. 
 
 David Deans, as we have said, was easy, and even opulent, 
 in his circumstances. But his wealth, like that of the patriarchs 
 of old, consisted in his kine and herds, and in two or three sums 
 lent out at interest to neighbors or relatives, who, far from 
 being in circumstances to pay anything to account of the prin- 
 cipal sums, thought they did all that was incumbent on them 
 when, with considerable difficulty, they discharged "the annual 
 rent. " To these debtors it would be in vain, therefore, to apply, 
 even with her father's concurrence ; nor could she hope to ob- 
 tain such concurrence, or assistance in any mode, without such 
 a series of explanations and debates as she felt might deprive 
 her totally of the power of taking the step, which, however 
 daring and hazardous, she knew was absolutely necessary for 
 trying the last chance in favor of her sister. Without depart- 
 ing from filial reverence, Jeanie had an inward conviction that 
 the feelings of her father, however just, and upright, and hon- 
 orable, were too little in unison with the spirit of the time to 
 admit of his being a good judge of the measures to be adopted 
 in this crisis. Herself more flexible in manner, though no less 
 upright in principle, she felt that to ask his consent to her 
 pilgrimage would be to encounter the risk of drawing down his 
 positive prohibition, and under that she believed her journey 
 could not be blessed in its progress and event. Accordingly, 
 she had determined upon the means by which she might com- 
 municate to him her undertaking and its purpose shortly after 
 her actual departure. But it was impossible to apply to him 
 for money without altering this arrangement, and discussing 
 fully the propriety of her journey ; pecuniary assistance from 
 that quarter, therefore, was laid out of the question. 
 
 It now occurred to Jeanie that she should have consulted 
 with Mrs. Saddletree on this subject. But, besides the time 
 that must now necessarily be lost in recurring to her assistance, 
 Jeanie internally revolted from it. Her heart acknowledged 
 the goodness of Mrs. Saddletree's general character, and the 
 kind interest she took in their family misfortunes ; but still 
 she felt that Mrs. Saddletree was a woman of an ordinary and 
 worldly way of thinking, incapable, from habit and tempera- 
 ment, of taking a keen or enthusiastic view of such a resolution 
 as she had formed ; and to debate the point with her, and to 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 249 
 
 rely upon her conviction of its propriety for the means of 
 carrying it into execution, would have been gall and worm- 
 wood. 
 
 Butler, whose assistance she might have been assured of, 
 was greatly poorer than herself. In these circumstances, she 
 formed a singular resolution for the purpose of surmounting 
 this difficulty, the execution of which will form the subject of 
 the next chapter. 
 
CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 Tis the voice of the sluggard, I've heard him complain, 
 " You have waked me too soon, I must slumber again ; " 
 As the door on its hinges, so he on his bed, 
 Turns his side and his shoulders, and his hejivy head. 
 
 Dr. Watts. 
 
 The mansion-honse of Dnmbiedikes, to which wq are now to 
 introduce our readers, lay three or four miles — no matter for 
 the exact topography — to the southward of St. Leonardos. It 
 had once borne the appearance of some little celebrity ; for the 
 Auld Laird, whose humors and pranks were often mentioned 
 in the alehouses for about a mile round it, wore a sword, kept 
 a good horse, and a brace of greyhounds ; brawled, swore, and 
 betted at cock-fights and horse-matches ; followed Somerville 
 of Drum's hawks and the Lord Ross's hounds ; and called him- 
 self point devise a gentleman. But the line had been veiled of 
 its splendor in the present proprietor, who cared for no rustic 
 amusements, and was as saving, timid, and retired as his father 
 had been at once grasping and selfishly extravagant, daring, 
 wild, and intrusive. 
 
 Dumbiedikes was what is called in Scotland a ''single" 
 house ; that is, having only one room occupying its whole depth 
 from back to front, each of which single apartments was illumi- 
 nated by six or eight cross lights, whose diminutive panes and 
 heavy frames permitted scarce so much light to enter as shines 
 through one well-constructed modern window. This inartificial 
 edifice, exactly such as p, child would build with cards,had a steep 
 roof flagged with coarse gray stones instead of slates ; a half- 
 circular turret, battlemented, or, to use the appropriate phrase, 
 bartizan'd on the top, served as a case for a narrow turnpike- 
 stair, by which an ascent was gained from story to story ; and 
 at the bottom of the said turret was a door studded with large- 
 headed nails. There was no lobby at the bottom of the tower, 
 and scarce a landing-place opjiosite to the doors which gave 
 access to the apartments. One or two low and dilapidated out- 
 houses, connected by a courtyard wall equally ruinous, sur- 
 rounded the mansion. The court had been paved, but the flags 
 being partly displaced and partly renewed, a gallant crop of 
 
 250 
 
TEE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 251 
 
 docks and thistles sprung up between them, and the small 
 garden, which opened by a postern through the wall, seemed 
 not to be in a much more orderly condition. Over the low- 
 arched gateway which led into the yard, there was a carved 
 stone, exhibiting some attempt at armorial bearings ; and 
 above the inner entrance hung, and had hung for many years, 
 the mouldering hatchment, which announced that umquhile 
 Laurence Dumbie of Dumbiedikes had been gathered to his 
 fathers in Newbattle kirkyard. The approacli to this palace 
 of pleasure was by a road formed by the rude fragments of 
 stone gathered from the fields, and it was surrounded by 
 ploughed but unenclosed land. Upon a baulk, that is, an un- 
 ploughed ridge of land interposed among the corn, the Laird's 
 trusty palfrey was tethered by the head, and picking a meal 
 of grass. The whole argued neglect and discomfort, the con- 
 sequence, however, of idleness and indifference, not of poverty. 
 
 In this inner court, not without a sense of bashfulness and 
 timidity, stood Jeanie Deans, at an early hour in a fine spring 
 morning. She was no heroine of romance, and therefore 
 looked with some curiosity and interest on the mansion-house 
 and domains, of which, it might at that moment occur to her, 
 a little encouragement, such as women of all ranks know by 
 instinct how to apply, might have made her mistress. More- 
 over, she was no person of taste beyond her time, rank, and 
 country, and certainly thought the house of Dumbiedikes, 
 though inferior to Holyrood House or the palace at Dalkeith, 
 was still a stately structure in its way, and the land a " very 
 bonny bit, if it were better seen to and done to." But Jeanie 
 Deans was a plain, true-hearted, honest girl, who, while she 
 acknowledged all the splendor of her old admirer's habitation, 
 and the value of his property, never for a moment harbored a 
 thought of doing the Laird, Butler, or herself the injustice 
 which many ladies of higher rank would not have hesitated 
 to do to all three on much less temptation. 
 
 Her present errand being with the Laird, she looked round 
 the offices to see if she could find any domestic to announce 
 that she wished to see him. As all was silence, she ventured 
 to open one door : it was the old Laird's dog-kennel, now de- 
 serted, unless when occupied, as one or two tubs seemed to 
 testify, as a washing-house. She tried another : it was the 
 roofless shed where the hawks had been once kept, as appeared 
 from a perch or two not yet completely rotten, and a lure and 
 jesses which were mouldering on the wall. A third door led 
 to the coal-house, which was well stocked. To keep a very 
 good fire was one of the few points of domestic management 
 
252 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 in wliicli Dumbiedikes was positively active ; in all other mat- 
 ters of domestic economy lie was completely passive, and at 
 the mercy of his honsekeeper, the same buxom dame whom 
 his father had long since bequeathed to his charge, and who, 
 if fame did her no injustice, had feathered her nest pretty 
 well at his expense. 
 
 Jeanie went on opening doors, like the second Calender 
 wanting an eye, in the castle of the hundred obliging damsels, 
 until, like the said prince-errant, she came to a stable. The 
 Highland Pegasus, Rory Bean, to wliich belonged the single 
 entire stall, was her old acquaintance, whom she had seen 
 grazing on the baulk, as she failed not to recognize by the 
 well-known ancient riding furniture and demi-pique saddle, 
 which half hung on the walls, half trailed on the litter. Be- 
 yond the " treviss," which formed one side of the stall, stood 
 a covs^, who turned her head and lowed when Jeanie came 
 into the stable, an appeal which her habitual occupations en- 
 abled her perfectly to understand, and with which she could 
 not refuse complying, by shaking down some fodder to the 
 animal, whicii had been neglected like most things else in 
 this castle of the sluggard. 
 
 While she was accommodating "the milky mother*' with 
 the food which she should have received two hours sooner, a 
 slipshod wench peeped into the stable, and perceiving that a 
 .stranger was employed in discharging the task which she, at 
 length, and reluctantly, had quitted her slumbers to perform, 
 ejaculated, "Eh, sirs ! the brownie ! the brownie I" and fled, 
 yelling as if she had seen the devil. 
 
 To explain her terror, it may be necessary to notice that 
 the old house of Dumbiedikes had, according to report, been 
 long haunted by a brownie, one of those familiar spirits who 
 were believed in ancient times to supply the deficiencies of 
 the ordinary laborer — 
 
 Whirl the long mop and ply the airy flail. 
 
 Certes, the convenience of such a supernatural assistant 
 could have been nowhere more sensibly felt than in a family 
 where the domestics were so little disposed to personal activ- 
 ity ; yet this serving maiden was so far from rejoicing in see- 
 ing a supposed aerial substitute disciiarging a task which she 
 should have long since performed herself, that she proceeded 
 to raise the family by her screams of horror, uttered as thick 
 as if the brownie had been flaying her. Jeanie, who had im- 
 mediately resigned her temporary occupation and followed 
 the yelling dajusel into the courtyard, in order to undeceive 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 253 
 
 and appease her, was there met by Mrs. Janet Balchristie, 
 the favorite sultana of the last Laird, as scandal went — the 
 housekeeper of the present. The good-looking buxom woman, 
 betwixt forty and fifty (for such we described her at the death 
 of the last Laird), was now a fat, red-faced, old dame of 
 seventy, or tliereabouts, fond of her place, and jealous of her 
 authority. Conscious that her administration did not rest on 
 so sure a basis as in the time of the old proprietor, this con- 
 siderate lady had introduced into the family the screamer 
 aforesaid, who added good features and bright eyes to the 
 powers of her lungs. She made no conquest of the Laird, how- 
 ever, who seemed to live as if there was notanother woman in 
 the world but Jeanie Deans, and to bear no very ardent or 
 overbearing affection even to her. Mrs. Janet Balchristie, 
 notwithstanding, had her own uneasy thoughts upon the al- 
 most daily visits to St. Leonard's Crags, and often, when the 
 Laird looked at her wistfully and paused, according to his 
 custom, before utterance, she expected him to say, "Jenny, 
 I am gaun to change my condition ; " but she was relieved by 
 "Jenny, I am gaun to change my shoon." 
 
 Still, however, Mrs. Balchristie regarded Jeanie Deans 
 with no small portion of malevolence, the customary feeling 
 of such persons towards any one who they think has the means 
 of doing them an injury. But she hud also a general aversion 
 to any female, tolerably young and decently well-looking, who 
 showed a wish to approach the house of Dumbiedikes and the 
 proprietor thereof. And as she had raised her mass of mor- 
 tality out of bed two hours eai'lier than usual, to come to the 
 rescue of her clamorous niece, she was in such extreme bad 
 humor against all and sundry, that Saddletree would have 
 pronounced that she harbored inimicitican contra omnes mor- 
 tales. 
 
 "' Wha the deil are ye ? " said the fat dame to poor Jeanie, 
 whom she did not immediately recognize, "scouping about a 
 decent house at sic an hour in the morning ?" 
 
 " It was ane wanting to speak to the Laird," said Jeanie, 
 who felt something of the intuitive terror which she had for- 
 merly entertained for this termagant, when she was occasion- 
 ally at Du7nbiedikes on business of lier father's. 
 
 "Ane ! And what sort of ane are ye ? hae ye nae name ? 
 D'ye think his honor has nnething else to do than to speak 
 wi" ilka idle tramp that comes about the town, and him in his 
 bed yet, honest man ? " 
 
 " Dear, Mrs. Balchristie," replied Jeanie, in a submissive 
 tone, " d'ye no mind me ?--d'ye no mind Jeanie Deans ? " 
 
254 WAVERjlEY novels 
 
 *' Jeahie Deans ! ! " said the termagant, in accents affect- 
 ing tlic utmost astonishment ; then, taking two strides nearer 
 to her, she peered into her face with a stare of curiosity, equal- 
 ly scornful and malignant. " I say Jeauie Deans, indeed — 
 Jeanie Deevil, they had better hae ca'd ye ! A bonny spoto' 
 wark your tittie and you hae made out, murdering ae puir wean, 
 and your light limmer of a sister's to be hanged f or't, as weel 
 she deserves ! And the like o' you to come to ony honest 
 man's house, and want to be into a decent bachelor gentle- 
 man's room at this time in tlie morning, and him in his bed ? 
 G-ae wa' — ^gae wa' ! " 
 
 Jeanie was struck mute with shame at the unfeeling brn- 
 tality of this accusation, and could not even find words to 
 Justify herself from tlie vile construction put upon her visit, 
 when Mrs. Balchristie, seeing her advantage, continued in the 
 same tone, " Come, come, bundle up your pipes and tramp 
 awa' wi' ye ! ye may be seeking a fatiier to another wean for 
 onything I ken. If it warna that your father, auld David 
 Deans, had been a tenant on our land, I would cry up the men- 
 folk and hae ye dookit in the burn for your impudence.'' 
 
 Jeanie had already turned her back and was walking to- 
 wards the door of the courtyard, so that Mrs. Balchristie, to 
 make her last threat impressively audible to her, had raised her 
 stentorian voice to its utmost pitch. But, like many a general, 
 she lost the engagement by pressing her advantage too far. 
 
 The Laird had been disturbed in his morning slumbers by 
 the tones of Mrs. Balchristie's objurgation, sounds in them- 
 selves by no means uncommon, but very remarkable in respect 
 to the early hour at which they were now heard. He turned 
 himself on the other side, however, in hopes the squall would 
 blow by, when, in the course of Mrs. Balchristie's second ex- 
 plosion of wrath, the name of Deans distinctly struck the tym- 
 panum of his ear. As he was, in some degree, aware of the 
 small portion of benevolence with which his housekeeper re- 
 garded the family at St. Leonard's, he instantly conceived 
 that some message from thence was the cause of this untimely 
 ire, and getting out of his bed, he slipped as speedily as possible 
 into an old brocaded nightgown and some other necessary in- 
 teguments, clapped on his head his father's gold-laced hat 
 (for though he was seldom seen without it, yet it is proper to 
 contradict the popular report that he slept in it, as Don 
 Quixote did in his helmet), and opening the window of his 
 bedroom, beheld, to his great astonishment, the well-known 
 figure of Jeanie Deans herself retreating from his gate ; while 
 his housekeeper, with arms akimbo, fists clinched and ex- 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 2i56 
 
 tended, body erect, and head shaking with rage, sent after her 
 a volley of Billingsgate oaths. His choler rose in proportion 
 to the surprise, and, perhaps, to the disturbance of his repose. 
 *'Hark ye," he exclaimed from the window, "ye auld limb 
 of Satan ! wha the deil gies you commission to guide an hon- 
 est man's daughter that gate ?" 
 
 Mrs. Balchristie was completely caught in the manner. 
 She was aware, from the unusual warmth with which the Laird 
 expressed himself, that he was quite serious in this matter, 
 and she knew that, with all his indolence of nature, there were 
 points on which he might be provoked, and that, being pro- 
 voked, he had in him something dangerous, which her wisdom 
 taught her to fear accordingly. She began, therefore, to re- 
 tract her false step as fast as she could. "^ She was but speak- 
 ing for the house's credit, and she couldna think of disturb- 
 ing his honor in the morning sae early, when the young woman 
 might as weel wait or call again ; and, to be sure, she might 
 make a mistake between the twa sisters, for ane o' them wasna 
 ^ae creditable an acquaintance.'' 
 
 " Hand your peace; ye auld jade," said Dumbiedikes ; '• the 
 warst quean e'er stude in their shoon may ca' you cousin, an 
 a' be true that I have heard. Jeanie, my woman, gang into 
 the parlor — but stay, that winna be redd up yet ; wait there a 
 minute till I come doun to let ye in. Dinna mind what Jenny 
 says to ye." 
 
 " Na, na," said Jenny, with a laugh of affected heartiness, 
 ''never mind me, lass. A' the warld kens my bark's waur 
 than my bite ; if ye had had an appointment wi' tlie Laird, ye 
 might hae tauld me, I am nae urcivil person. Gang your 
 ways in bye, hinny," And she oj)ened the door of the house 
 with a master-key. 
 
 " But I had no appointment wi' the Laird," said Jeanie, 
 drawing back ; " I want just to speak twa words to him, and 
 I wad rather do it standing here, Mrs. Balchristie." 
 
 " In the open courtyard ? Na, na, that wad never do, lass ; 
 we maunna guide ye that gate neither. And how's that douce 
 honest man, your father ? " 
 
 Jeanie was saved the pain of answering this hypocritical 
 question by the appearance of the Laird himself. 
 
 " Gang in and get breakfast ready," said he to his house- 
 keeper ; "and, d'ye hear, breakfast wi' us yoursell ; ye ken 
 how to manage thae porringers of tea-water ; and, hear ye, see 
 abune a' that there's a gude fire. Weel, Jeanie, my woman, 
 gang in bye — gang in bye, and rest ye." 
 
 "Na, Laird," Jeanie replied, endeavoring as much iis she 
 
256 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 could to express herself with composure, notwithstanding she 
 still trembled, " I canna gang in : I have a lang day's darg 
 afore me ; I maun be twenty mile o' gate the night yet, if feet 
 will carry me." 
 
 " Guide and deliver us ! twenty mile — twenty mile on your 
 feet ! " ejaculated Dumbiedikes, whose walks were of a very 
 circumscribed diameter. "Ye maun never think o' that; 
 come in bye." 
 
 "I canna do that, Laird," replied Jeanie. "The twa 
 words I hae to say to ye I can say here ; forbye that Mrs. 
 Balchristie " 
 
 " The deil flee awa^ wi' Mrs. Balchristie," said Dumbiedikes, 
 "and he'll hae a heavy lading o'her ! I tell ye, Jeanie Deans, 
 I am a man of few words, but I am laird at hame as weel as 
 in the tield : deil a brute or body about my house but I can 
 manage when I like, except Rory Bean, my powny ; but I can 
 seldom be at the plague, an it binna when my bluid's up." 
 
 " I was wanting to say to ye, Laird," said Jeanie, who felt 
 the necessity of entering upon her business, "that I wasgaun 
 a lang journey, outbye of my father's knowledge." 
 
 "Outbye his knowledge, Jeanie ! Is that right? Ye 
 maun think o't again ; it's no right," said Dumbiedikes, with 
 a countenance of great concern. 
 
 "If I were anes at Lunnon," said Jeanie, in exculpation, 
 " I am amaist sure I could get means to speak to the queen 
 about my sister's life." 
 
 "Lunnon, and the queen, and her sister's life!" said 
 Dumbiedikes, whistling for very amazement ; " the lassie's 
 demented." 
 
 "I am no out o' my mind," said she, " and, sink or swim, 
 I am determined to gang to Lunnon, if I suld beg my way 
 frae door to door ; and so I maun, unless ye wad lend me a 
 small sum to pay my expenses. Little thing will do it ; and 
 ye ken my father's a man of substance, and wad see nae man, 
 far less you. Laird, come to loss by me." 
 
 Dumbiedikes, on comprehending the nature of this appli- 
 cation, could scarce trust his ears ; he made no answer what- 
 ever, but stood with his eyes riveted on the ground. 
 
 " I see ye are no for assisting me. Laird," said Jeanie ; 
 '* sae fare ye weel ; and gang and see my poor father as af ten 
 as ye can, he will be lonely enough now." 
 
 " Where is the silly bairn gaun ? " said Dumbiedikes ; and, 
 laying hold of her hand, he led her into the house. " It's no 
 that I didna think o't before," he said, " but it stack in my 
 throat." 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 357 
 
 Thus speaking to himself, he led her into an old-fashioned 
 parlor, shut the door behind them, and fastened it with a 
 bolt. While Jeanie, surprised at this manrouvre, remained as 
 near the door as possible, the Laird quitted her hand, and 
 pressed upon a spring lock fixed in an oak panel in the wain- 
 scot, which instantly slipped aside. An iron strong-box was 
 discovered in a recess of the wall ; he opened this also, and, 
 pulling out two or three drawers, showed that they were filled 
 with leathern bags, full of gold and silver coin. 
 
 " This is my bank, Jeanie, lass," he said, looking first at 
 her and then at the treasure, with an air of great complacency ; 
 "nane o' your goldsmith's bills for me ; they bring folk to 
 ruin." 
 
 Then suddenly changing his tone, he resolutely said — 
 " Jeanie, I will make ye Leddy Dumbiedikes afore the sun 
 sets, and ye may ride to Lunnon in your ain coach, if ye 
 like." 
 
 "Na, Laird," said Jeanie, ''that can never be : my father's 
 grief, my sister's situation, the discredit to you " 
 
 " That's 7)17/ business," said Dumbiedikes. " Ye wad say 
 naething about that if ye werena a fule ; and yet I like ye the 
 better for't : ae wise body's eneugh in the married state. But 
 if your heart's ower fu', take what siller will serve ye, and 
 let it be when ye come back again, as gude syne as sune." 
 
 " But, Laird," said Jeanie, who felt the necessity of being 
 explicit with so extraordinary a lover, " I like another man 
 better than you, and I canna marry ye." 
 
 " Another man better than me, Jeanie ! " said Dumbie- 
 dikes ; ''how is that possible ? It's no possible, woman ; ye 
 has kenn'd me sae lang." 
 
 " Ay, but, Laird," said Jeanie, with persevering simpli- 
 city, " I hae kenn'd him langer." 
 
 " Langer ! It's no possible ! " exclaimed the poor Laird. 
 " It canna be ; ye were born on the land. Jeanie, woman, 
 ye haena lookit — ye haena seen the half o' the gear." He 
 drew out another drawer. ''A' gowd, Jeanie, and there's 
 bands for siller lent. And the rental book, Jeanie — clear 
 three hunder sterling ; deil a wadset, heritable band, or bur- 
 den. Ye haena lookit at them, woman. And then my 
 mother's wardrobe, and my grandmother's forbye — silk gowns 
 wad stand on their ends, pearlin-lace as fine as spiders' webs, 
 and rings and earrings to the boot of a' that ; they are a' in 
 the chamber of deas. Oh, Jeanie, gang up the stair and look 
 at them ! " 
 
 But Jeanie held fast her integrity, though beset with 
 
388 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 temptations which perhaps the Laird of Dumbiedikes did not 
 greatly err in supposing were those most affecting to her sex. 
 
 " It canna be. Laird : I have said it, and I canna break 
 my word till him, if ye wad gie me the haill barony of Dal- 
 keith, and Lugton into the bargain." 
 
 " Your word to 7mn." said the Laird, somewhat pettishly ; 
 " but wha is he, Jeanie ? — wha is he ? I haena heard his 
 name yet. Come now, Jeanie, ye are but queering us. lam 
 no trowing that there is sic a ane in the warld ; ye are but 
 making fashion. What is he ? wha is he ? " 
 
 " Just Reuben Butler, that's schulemaster at Liberton," 
 said Jeanie. 
 
 " Reuben Butler ! Reuben Butler ! " echoed the Laird of 
 Dumbiedikes, pacing the apartment in high disdain. *' Reu- 
 ben Butler, the dominie at Liberton, and a dominie depute 
 too ! Reuben, the son of my cottar ! Very weel, Jeanie, 
 lass, wilf u' woman will hae her way. Reuben Butler ! he 
 hasna in his pouch the value o' the auld black coat he wears 
 —but it disna signify." And, as he spoke, he shut succes- 
 sively, and with vehemence, the drawers of his treasury. " A 
 fair offer, Jeanie, is nae cause of feud. Ae man may bring a 
 horse to the water, but twenty wuuna gar him drink. And 
 as for wasting my substance on other folks' joes " 
 
 There was something in the last hint that nettled Jeanie's 
 honest pride. " I was begging nane frae your honor," she 
 said ; *' least of a* on sic a score as ye pit it on. Gude morn- 
 ing to ye, sir ; ye hae been kind to my father, and it isna in 
 my heart to think otherwise than kindly of you." 
 
 So saying, she left the room, without listening to a faint 
 "But, Jeanie — Jeanie — stay, woman!" and traversing the 
 courtyard with a quick step, she set out on her forward jour- 
 ney, her bosom glowing with that natural indignation and 
 shame which an honest mind feels at having subjected itself 
 to ask a favor which had been unexpectedly refused. When 
 out of the Laird's ground, and once more upon the public 
 road, her pace slackened, her anger cooled, and anxious an- 
 ticipations of the consequence of this unexpected disappoint- 
 ment began to influence her with other feelings. Must she 
 then actually beg her way to London ? for such seemed the 
 alternative ; or must she turn back and solicit her father for 
 money ; and by doing so lose time, which was precious, be- 
 sides the risk of encountering his positive prohibition respect- 
 ing her journey ? Yet she saw no medium between these 
 alternatives ; and, while she walked slowly on, was still med- 
 itating whether it were not better to return. 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN MB 
 
 While she was thus in an uncertainty, she heard the clat* 
 ter of a horse's hoofs, and a well-known voice calling her 
 name. She looked round, and saw advancing towards her on 
 a pony, whose bare back and halter assorted ill with the night- 
 gown, slippers, and laced cocked hat of the rider, a cavalier 
 of no less importance than Dumbiedikes himself. In the en- 
 ergy of his pursuit, he had overcome even the Highland ob- 
 stinacy of Rory Bean, and compelled that self-willed palfrey 
 to canter the way his rider chose ; which Eory, however, per- 
 formed with all the symptoms of reluctance, turning his head, 
 and accompanying every bound he made in advance with a 
 sidelong motion, which indicated his extreme wish to turn 
 round — a manoeuvre which nothing but the constant exercise 
 of the Laird's heels and cudgel could possibly have counter- 
 acted. 
 
 When the Laird came up with Jeanie, the first words he 
 nttered were — " Jeanie, they say ane shouldna aye take a 
 woman at her first word ? " 
 
 "Aye, but ye maun take me at mine. Laird," said Jeanie, 
 looking on the ground, and walking on without a pause. "1 
 hae but ae word to bestow on onybody, and that's aye a true 
 ane." 
 
 "Then," said Dumbiedikes, "at least ye suldna aye take 
 a man at Ms first word. Ye maunna gang this wilfu' gate 
 sillerless, come o't what like." He put a purse into her hand. 
 •' I wad gie you Rory too, but he's as wilfu' as yoursell, and 
 he's ower weel used to a gate that maybe he and I hae gaen 
 ower aften, and he'll gang nae road else." 
 
 " But, Laird," said Jeanie, " though I ken my father will 
 satisfy every penny of this siller, whatever there's o't, yet I 
 wadna like to borrow it f rae ane that maybe thinks of some- 
 thing mair than the paying o't back again." 
 
 " There's just twenty-fivo guineas o't," said Dumbiedikes, 
 with a gentle sigh, " and whether your father pays or disna 
 pay, I make ye free till't without another word. Gang where 
 ye like, do what ye like, and marry a' the Butlers in the coun- 
 try gin ye like. And sae, gude morning to you, Jeanie." 
 
 " And God bless you. Laird, wi' mony a gude morning,'* 
 said Jeanie, her heart more softened by the unwonted gener- 
 osity of this uncouth character than perhaps Butler might 
 have approved, had he known her feelings at that moment ; 
 "and comfort, and the Lord's peace, and the peace of the 
 world, be with you, if we suld never meet again ! " 
 
 Dumbiedikes turned and waved his hand ; and his pony, 
 much more willing to return than he had been to set out. 
 
260 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 hurried him homewards so fast that, wanting the aid of a 
 regular bridle, as well as of saddle and stirrups,, he was too 
 much puzzled to keep his seat to permit of his looking behind, 
 even to give the parting glance of a forlorn swain. I am 
 ashamed to say that the sight of a lover, run away with in 
 nightgown and slippers and a laced hat, by a barebacked 
 Highland pony, had something in it of a sedative, even to a 
 grateful and deserved burst of affectionate esteem. The figure 
 of Dumbiedikes was too ludicrous not to confirm Jeanie in the 
 original sentiments she entertained towards him. 
 
 " He's a gude creature," said she, ''and a kind ; it's a pity 
 he has sae willyard a powny." And she immediately turned 
 her thoughts to the important journey which she had com- 
 menced, reflecting with pleasure that, according to her habits 
 of life and of undergoing fatigue, she was now amply, or even 
 superfluously, provided with the means of encountering the 
 expenses of the road up and down from London, and all other 
 expenses whatever. 
 
CHAPTEE XXVII 
 
 What strange and wayward thoughts will slide 
 
 Into a lover's head ; 
 '* O mercy I " to myself I cried, 
 " If Lucy should be dead 1 " 
 
 Wordsworth. 
 
 In" pursuing her solitary journey, our heroine, soon after 
 passing the house of Dumbiedikes, gained a little eminence, 
 from which, on looking to the eastward down a prattling 
 brook, whose meanders were shaded with straggling Tvillows 
 and alder-trees, she could see the cottages of Woodend and 
 Beersheba, the haunts and habitation of her early life, and 
 could distinguish the common on which she had so often 
 herded sheep, and the recesses of the rivulet where she had 
 pulled rushes with Butler, to plait crowns and sceptres for 
 her sister Effie, then a beautiful but spoiled child of about 
 three years old. The recollections which the scene brought 
 with them were so bitter that, had she indulged them, she 
 would have sat down aiid relieved her heart with tears. 
 
 " But I kenn'd," said Jeanie, when she gave an account 
 of her pilgrimage, " that greeting would do but little good, 
 and that it was mair beseeming to thank the Lord, that had 
 showed me kindness and countenance by means of a man that 
 mony ca'd a Nabal and churl, but wha was free of his gudee 
 tome as ever the fountain was free of the stream. And I 
 minded the Scripture about the sin of Israel at Meribah, 
 when the people murmured, although Moses had brought 
 water from the dry rock that the congregation might drink 
 and live. Sae, I wad not trust mysell with another look at 
 puir Woodend, for the very blue reek that came out of the 
 lum-head pat me in mind of the change of market days 
 with us."" 
 
 In this resigned and Christian temper she pursued her 
 iourney, until she was beyond this place of melancholy recol- 
 lections, and not distant from the village where Butler dwelt, 
 which, with its old-fashioned church and steeple, rises among 
 a tuft of trees, occupying the ridge of an eminence to the south 
 
362 WAVE RLE Y NOVELS 
 
 of Edinburgh. At a quarter of a mile's distance is a clumsy 
 square tower, the residence of the Laird of Liberton, who, in 
 former times, with the habits of the predatory chivalry of 
 Germany, is said frequently to have annoyed the city of Ed- 
 inburgh by intercepting the supplies and merchandise which 
 came to the town from the southward. 
 
 This village, its tower, and its church, did not lie precisely 
 in Jeanie's road towards England ; but they were not much 
 aside from it, and the village was the abode of Butler. She 
 had resolved to see him in the beginning of her journey, be- 
 cause she conceived him the most proper person to write to 
 her father concerning her resolution and her hopes. There 
 was probably another reason latent in her affectionate bosom. 
 She wished once more to see the object of so early and so sin- 
 cere an attachment, before commencing a pilgrimage, the per- 
 ils of which she did not disguise from herself, although she 
 did not allow them so to press upon her mind as to dimin- 
 ish the strength and energy of her resolution. A visit to a 
 lover from a young person in a higher rank of life than Jean- 
 ie's would have had something forward and improper in its 
 character. But the simplicity of her rural habits was un- 
 acquainted with these punctilious ideas of decorum, and no 
 notion, therefore, of impropriety crossed her imagination as, 
 setting out upon a long journey, she went to bid adieu to an 
 early friend. 
 
 There was still another motive that pressed upon her mind 
 witb additional force as she approached the village. She had 
 looked anxiously for Butler in the court-house, and had ex- 
 pected that certainly, in some part of that eventful day, he 
 would have appeared to bring such countenance and support 
 as he could give to his old friend and the protector of his 
 youth, even if her own claims were laid aside. She knew, in- 
 deed, that he was under a certain degree of restraint ; but 
 she still had hoped that he would have found means to eman- 
 cipate himself from it, at least for • one day. In short, the 
 wild and wayward thoughts which Wordsworth has described 
 as rising in an absent lover's imagination suggested, as the 
 only explanation of his absence, that Butler must be very 
 ill. And so much had this wrought on her imagination, that 
 when she approached the cottage in which her lover occupied 
 a small apartment, and which had been jDointed out to her by 
 a maiden with a milk-pail on her head, she trembled at an- 
 ticipating the answer she might receive on inquiring for him. 
 
 Her fears in this case had, indeed, only hit upon the truth. 
 Butler, whose constitution was naturally feeble, did not soon 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 36J 
 
 recover the fatigue of body and distress of mind which he had 
 suffered in consequence of the tragical events with which our 
 narrative commenced. The painful idea that his character 
 was breathed on by suspicion was an aggravation to his distress. 
 
 But the most cruel addition was the absolute prohibition 
 laid by the magistrates on his holding any communication with 
 Deans or his family. It had unfortunately appeared likely 
 to them that some intercourse might be again attempted with 
 that family by Eobertson, through the medium of Butler, and 
 this they were anxious to intercept, or prevent, if possible. 
 The measure was not meant as a harsh or injurious severity on 
 the part of the magistrates ; but, in Butler's circumstances, 
 it pressed cruelly hard. He felt he must be suffering under 
 the bad opinion of the person who was dearest to him, from an 
 imputation of unkind desertion, the most alien to his nature. 
 
 This painful thought, pressing on a frame already injured, 
 brought on a succession of slow and lingering feverish attacks, 
 which greatly impaired his health, and at length rendered 
 him incapable even of the sedentary duties of the school, on 
 which his bread depended. Fortunately, old Mr. Whackbairn, 
 who was the principal teacher of the little parochial establish- 
 ment, was sincerely attached to Butler. Besides that he was 
 sensible of his merits and valae as an assistant, which had 
 greatly raised the credit of his little school, the ancient peda- 
 gogue, who had himself been tolerably educated, retained some 
 taste for classical lore, and would gladly relax, after the 
 drudgery of the school was past, by conning over a few pages 
 of Horace or Juvenal with his usher. A similarity of taste 
 begot kindness, and he accordingly saw Butler's increasing 
 debility with great compassion, roused up his own energies 
 to teaching the school in the morning hours, insisted upon 
 his assistant's reposing himself at that period, and, besides, 
 supplied him with such comforts as the patient's situation 
 required, and his own means were inadequate to compass. 
 
 • Such was Butler's situation, scarce able to drag himself 
 to the place where his daily drudgery must gain his daily 
 bread, and racked with a thousand fearful anticipations con- 
 cerning the fate of those who were dearest to him in the world, 
 when the trial and condemnation of Effie Deans put the cope- 
 stone upon his mental misery. 
 
 He had a particular account of these events from a fellow- 
 student who resided in the same village, and who, having been 
 present on the melancholy occasion, was able to place it in all 
 its agony of horrors before his excruciated imagination. That 
 sleep should have visited his eyes, after such a curfew-note. 
 
$94 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 was impossible. A thousand dreadful visions hannted his 
 imagination all night, and in the morning he was awaked 
 from a feverish slumber by the only circnmstance which could 
 have added to his distress — the visit of an intrusive ass. 
 
 This unwelcome visitant was no other than Bartoline Sad- 
 dletree. The worthy and sapient burgher had kept his ap- 
 pointment at MacCroskie's, with Plumdamas and some other 
 neighbors, to discuss the Duke of Argyle's speech, the justice 
 of Effie Deans's condemnation, and the improbability of her 
 obtaining a reprieve. This sage conclave disputed high and 
 drank deep, and on the next morning Bartoline felt, as he 
 expressed it, as if his head was like a ''confused progress of 
 writs. ^' 
 
 To bring his reflective powers to their usual serenity. Sad- 
 dletree resolved to take a morning's ride upon a certain hack- 
 ney which he, Plumdamas, and another honest shopkeeper 
 combined to maintain by joint subscription, for occasional 
 jaunts for the purpose of business or exercise. As Saddletree 
 had two children boarded with Whackbairn, and was, as we 
 have seen, rather fond of Butler's society, he turned his pal- 
 frey's head towards Liberton, and came, as we have already 
 eaid, to give the unfortunate usher that additional vexation of 
 which Imogen complains so feelingly when she says, 
 
 I'm sprighted with a fool — 
 Sprighted and anger'd worse. 
 
 If anything could have added gall to bitterness, it was the 
 choice which Saddletree made of a subject for his prosing 
 harangues, being the trial of Effie Deans, and the probability 
 of her being executed. Every word fell on Butler's ear like 
 the knell of a death-bell or the note of a screech-owl. 
 
 Jeanie paused at the door of her lover's humble abode 
 upon hearing the loud and pompous tones of Saddletree sound- 
 ing from the inner apartment — "Credit me, it will be sae, 
 Mr. Butler. Brandy cannot save her. She maun gang down 
 the Bow wi' the lad in the pioted coat * at her heels. I am 
 sorry for the lassie, but the law, sir, maun hae its course — 
 
 Vivat rex, 
 Currat lex, 
 
 as the poet has it, in whilk of Horace's Odes I know not." 
 
 Here Butler groaned, in utter impatience of the brutality 
 and ignorance which Bartoline had contrived to amalgamate 
 into one sentence. But Saddletree, like other prosers, was 
 
 * The executioner, in a livery of black or dark gray and silver, likened by low 
 wit to a magpie. 
 
TEE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 265 
 
 blessed with a happy obtnseness of perception concerning the 
 unfavorable impression which he generally made on his audi- 
 tors. He proceeded to deal forth his scraps of legal knowledge 
 without mercy, and concluded by asking Butler with great 
 self-complacency, "Was it na a pity my father didna send 
 m.e to Utrecht ? Havena I missed the chance to turn out as 
 cJai'issimus an ictus as auld Grunwiggin himsell ? What for 
 dinna ye speak, Mr. Butler ? Wad I no hae been a clarissi- 
 mus ictus ? Eh, man ? " 
 
 " I really do not understand you, Mr. Saddletree," said 
 Butler, thus pushed hard for an answer. His faint and ex- 
 hausted tone of voice was instantly drowned in the sonorous 
 bray of Bartoline. 
 
 " No understand me, man ? Ictus is Latin for a lawyer, is 
 it not?" 
 
 " Not that ever I heard of," answered Butler, in the same 
 dejected tone. 
 
 "The deil ye didna ! See, man, I got the word but this 
 morning out of a memorial of Mr. Crossmyloof's ; see, there 
 it is, ictus clai'issimus et perfi — peritissimtis ; it's a' Latin, for 
 it's printed in the Italian types." 
 
 " 0, you mean juris-consultits ? Ictus is an abbreviation 
 for juris-cons7(Uus." 
 
 "Dinna tell me, man," persevered Saddletree; "there's 
 nae abbreviates except in adjudications ; and this is a' about a 
 servitude of water-drap, that is to say, tiUicidian* — maybe 
 ye'll say that's no Latin neither — in Mary King's Close in the 
 High Street." 
 
 " Very likely," said poor Butler, overwhelmed by the noisy 
 perseverance of his visitor. " I am not able to dispute with 
 you." 
 
 "Few folk are — few folk are, Mr. Butler, though I say it 
 that shouldna say it," returned Bartoline, with great delight. 
 "Now, it will be twa hours yet or ye're wanted in the schule, 
 and as ye are no weel, I'll sit wi' you to divert ye, and explain 
 t'ye the nature of a tilUcidian. Ye maun ken, the petitioner, 
 Mrs. Crombie, a very decent woman, is a friend of mine, and 
 I hae stude her friend in this case, and brought her wi' credit 
 into the court, and I doubtna that in due time she will win 
 out o't wi' credit, win she or lose she. Ye see, being an in- 
 ferior tenement or laigh house, we grant ourselves to be bur- 
 dened wi' the tiUicide, that is, that we are obligated to receive 
 the natural water-drap of the superior tenement, sae far as the 
 same fa's frae the heavens, or the roof of our neighbor's 
 
 • He meant, probably, stillicidiuvi. 
 
266 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 house, and from thence by the gutters or eaves upon ourlaigh 
 tenement. But the other night comes a Highland quean of 
 a lass, and she flashes, God kens what, out at the eastmost 
 window of Mrs. MacPhail's house, that's the superior tene- 
 ment. I believe the auld women wad hae greed, for Luckie 
 MacPhail sent down the lass to tell my friend Mrs. Crombie 
 that she had made the gardyloo out of the wrang window, 
 from respect for twa Highlandmen that were speaking Gae- 
 lic in the close below the right ane. But luckily for Mrs. 
 Crombie, I just chanced to come in in time to break aff the 
 communing, for it's a pity the point sulda be tried. We had 
 Mrs. MacPhail into the Ten-Mark Court. The Hieland lim- 
 mer of a lass wanted to swear herself free ; but ' Hand ye 
 there,' says I " 
 
 The detailed account of this important suit might have 
 lasted until poor Butler's hour of rest was completely ex- 
 hausted, had not Saddletree been interrupted by the noise of 
 voices at the door. The woman of the house where Butler 
 lodged, on returning with her pitcher from the well, whence 
 she had been fetching water for the family, found our hero- 
 ine Jeanie Deans standing at the door, impatient of the prolix 
 harangue of Saddletree, yet unwilling to enter until he should 
 have taken his leave. 
 
 The good woman abridged the period of hesitation by in- 
 quiring, " Was ye wanting the gudeman or me, lass ?" 
 
 " I wanted to speak with Mr. Butler, if he's at leisure,*' 
 replied Jeanie. 
 
 " Gang in bye, then, my woman," answered the goodwife ; 
 and opening the door of a room, she announced the addi- 
 tional visitor with — " Mr. Butler, here's a lass wants to speak 
 t'ye." 
 
 The surprise of Butler was extreme when Jeanie, who 
 seldom stirred half a mile from home, entered his apartment 
 upon this annunciation. 
 
 '' Good God ! " he said, starting from his chair, while 
 alarm restored to his cheek the color of which sickness had 
 deprived it ; " some new misfortune must have happened ! " 
 
 "None, Mr. Eeuben, but what you must hae heard of; 
 but 0, ye are looking ill yoursell !" for "the hectic of a 
 moment " had not concealed from her affectionate eye the 
 ravages which lingering disease and anxiety of mind had 
 made in her lover's person. 
 
 *' No ; I am well — quite well," said Butler, with eager- 
 ness ; " if I can do anything to assist you, Jeanie — or your 
 father/' 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN ^t 
 
 "Ay, to be sure/' said Saddletree ; " the family may be 
 considered as limited to them twa now, jnst as if Effie had 
 never been in the tailzie, puir thing. But, Jeanie, lass, what 
 brings you out to Liberton sae air in the morning, and your 
 father lying ill in the Luckenbooths ? " 
 
 "I had a message frae my father to Mr. Butler," said 
 Jeanie, with embarrassment ; but instantly feeling ashamed 
 of the fiction to which she had resorted, for her love of and 
 veneration for truth was almost Quaker-like, she corrected 
 herself — "That is to say, I wanted to speak with Mr, Butler 
 about some business of my fathers and puir Effie's." 
 
 "Is it law business ? " said Bartoline ; " because, if it be, 
 ye had better take my opinion on the subject than his.'' 
 
 "It is not just law business," said Jeanie, who saw con- 
 siderable inconvenience might arise from letting Mr. Saddle- 
 tree into the secret purpose of her journey ; " but I want Mr. 
 Butler to write a letter for me." 
 
 "Very right," said Mr. Saddletree ; "and if ye'll tell me 
 what it is about, I'll dictate to Mr. Butler as Mr. Crossmyloof 
 does to his clerk. Get your pen and ink in initialibus, Mr. 
 Butler." 
 
 Jeanie looked at Butler, and wrung her hands with vex- 
 ation and impatience. 
 
 " I believe, Mr. Saddletree," said Butler, who saw the ne- 
 cessity of getting rid of him at all events, "that Mr. Whack- 
 bairn will be somewhat affronted if you do not hear your boys 
 called up to their lessons." 
 
 " Indeed, Mr. Butler, and that's as true ; and I promised 
 to ask a half play-day to the schule, so that the bairns might 
 gang and see the hanging, which canna but have a pleasing 
 effect on their young minds, seeing there is no knowing what 
 they may come to themselves. Odd so, I didna mind ye were 
 here, Jeanie Deans ; but ye maun use yoursell to hear the 
 matter spoken o'. Keep Jeanie here till I come back, Mr. 
 Butler ; I wunna bide ten minutes." 
 
 And with this unwelcome assurance of an immediate re- 
 turn, he relieved them of the embarrassment of his presence. 
 
 " Eeuben,"said Jeanie, who saw the necessity of using the 
 interval of his absence in discussing what had brought her 
 there, " I am bound on a lang journey. I am gaun to Lun- 
 non to ask Effie's life of the king and of the queen." 
 
 "Jeanie ! you are surely not yourself," answered Butler, 
 in the utmost surprise ; "you go to London — yo^i address the 
 king and queen ! " 
 
 " And what for no, Eeuben ?" said Jeanie, with all the 
 
266 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 composed simplicity of her character ; '' it's but speaking to 
 a mortal man and woman when a' is done. And their hearts 
 maun be made o' flesh and blood like other folks', and Effie's 
 story wad melt them were they stane. Forbye, I hae heard 
 that they are no sic bad folk as what the JacolDites ca' them." 
 
 ''Yes, Jeanie," said Butler; ''but their magnificence, 
 their retinue, the difficulty of getting audience ?" 
 
 " I have thought of a' that, Reuben, and it shall not break 
 my spirit. Nae doubt their claiths will be very grand, wi'' 
 their crowns on their heads, and their sceptres in their hands, 
 like the great King Ahasnerus when he sat upon his royal 
 throne f oranent the gate of his house, as we are told in Script- 
 ure. But I have that within me that will keep my heart 
 from failing, and I am amaist sure that I will be strengthened 
 to speak the errand I came for." 
 
 "Alas ! alas ! " said Butler, "the kings nowadays do not 
 sit in the gate to administer justice, as in patriarchal times. 
 I know as little of courts as you do, Jeanie, by experience ; 
 but by reading and report I know that the King of Britain 
 does everything by means of his ministers." 
 
 "And if they be upright. God-fearing ministers," said 
 Jeanie, " it's sae muckle the better chance for Effie and me." 
 
 " But you do not even understand the most ordinary words 
 relating to a court," said Butler ; " by the ministry is meant 
 not clergymen, but the king's official servants." 
 
 " Nae doubt," returned Jeanie, " he maun hae a great num- 
 ber mair, I daur to say, than the Duchess has at Dalkeith ; 
 and great folks' servants are aye mair saucy than themselves. 
 But I'll be decently put on, and I'll offer them a trifle o' sil- 
 ler, as if I came to see the palace. Or, if they scruple that, 
 I'll tell them I'm come on a business of life and death, and 
 then they will surely bring me to speech of the king and 
 queen : 
 
 Butler shook his head. " 0, Jeanie, this is entirely a wild 
 dream. You can never see them but through some great lord's 
 intercession, and I think it is scarce possible even then." 
 
 " Weel, but maybe I can get that too," said Jeanie, " with 
 a little helping from you." 
 
 "From me, Jeanie ! this is the wildest imagination of all." 
 
 " Ay, but it is not, Reuben. Havena I heard you aay that 
 your grandfather, that my father never likes to hear about, 
 did some gude lang syne to the forbear of this MacCallum- 
 more, when he was Lord of Lorn ?" 
 
 "He did so," said Butler, eagerly, "and I can prove it. 
 I will write to the Duke of Argyle — report speaks him a good 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 269 
 
 kindly man, as he is known for a brave soldier and true pa- 
 triot — I will conjure him to stand between your sister and this 
 cruel fate. There is but a poor chance of success, but we will 
 try all means." 
 
 '' We must try all means/' replied Jeanie ; " but writing 
 winna do it : a letter canna look, and pray, and beg, and be- 
 seech, as the human voice can do to the human heart. A let- 
 ter's like the music that the ladies have for their spinets : 
 naething but black scores, compared to the same tune played 
 or sung. It's word of mouth maun do it, or naething, Ken- 
 ben." 
 
 "You are right," said Eeuben, recollecting his firmness, 
 " and I will hope that Heaven has suggested to your kind heart 
 and firm courage the only possible means of saving the life of 
 this unfortunate girl. But, Jeanie, you must not take this 
 most perilous journey alone ; I have an interest in you, and I 
 wilFnot agree that my Jeanie throws herself away. You must, 
 even in the present circumstances, give me a husband's right 
 to protect you, and I will go with you myself on this journey, 
 and assist you to do your duty by your family." 
 
 "Alas, Eeuben !" said Jeanie, in her turn, "this must 
 not be ; a pardon will not gie my sister her fair fame again, or 
 mak me a bride fitting for an honest man and an usefu' min- 
 ister. Wha wad mind what he said in the pu'pit, that had to 
 wife the sister of a woman that was condemned for sic wick- 
 edness ? " 
 
 " But, Jeanie," pleaded her lover, " I do not believe, and 
 I cannot believe, that Effie has done this deed." 
 
 "Heaven bless you for saying sae, Eeuben!" answered 
 Jeanie ; "but she maun bear the blame o't, after all." 
 
 " But that blame, were it even justly laid on her, does 
 not fall on you." 
 
 "Ah, Eeuben, Eeuben," replied the young woman, "ye 
 ken it is a blot that spreads to kith and kin. Ichabod, as 
 my poor father says, the glory is departed from onr house ; 
 for the poorest man's house has a glory, where there are true 
 hands, a divine heart, and an honest fame. And the last has 
 gane frae us a'." 
 
 "But, Jeanie, consider your word and plighted faith to 
 me ; and would ye undertake such a journey without a man 
 to protect you ? and who should that protector be but your 
 husband ? " 
 
 " You are kind and good, Eeuben, and wad tak me wi' a' 
 my shame, I doubtna. But ye canna but own that this is no 
 time to marry or be given in marriage. Na, if that suld ever 
 
270 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 be, it maun be in another and a better season. And, dear 
 Reuben, ye speak of protecting me on my journey. Alas ! 
 who will protect and take care of you ? Your very limbs 
 tremble with standing for ten minutes on the floor ; how 
 could you undertake a journey as far as Lunnon ?" 
 
 " But I am strong — I am well," continued Butler, sink- 
 ing in his seat totally exhausted ; *^at least I shall be quite 
 well to-morrow." 
 
 " Ye see, and ye ken, ye maun just let me depart," said 
 Jeanie, after a pause ; and then taking his extended hand, 
 and gazing kindly in his face, she added, " It's e'en a grief 
 the mair to me to see you in this way. But ye maun keep 
 up your heart for Jeanie's sake, for if she isna your wife, she 
 will never be the wife of living man. And now gie me the 
 paper for MacCallummore and bid God speed me on my way." 
 
 There was something of romance in Jeanie's venturous reso- 
 lution ; yet, on consideration, as it seemed impossible to alter it 
 by persuasion, or to give her assistance but by advice, Butler, 
 after some further debate, put into her hands the paper she 
 desired, which, with the muster-roll in which it was folded up, 
 were the sole memorials of the stout and enthusiastic Bible 
 Butler, his grandfather. While Butler sought this document, 
 Jeanie had time to take up his pocket Bible. " I have marked 
 a scripture," she said, as she again laid it down, " with your 
 keelyvine pen, that will be useful to usbaith. And ye maun 
 tak the trouble, Reuben, to write a' this to my father, for, God 
 help me, I have neither head nor hand for lang letters at ony 
 time, forbye now ; and I trust him entirely to you, and I trust 
 you will soon be permitted to see him. And, Reuben, when ye 
 do win to the speech o' him, mind a' the auld man's bits o' ways, 
 for Jeanie's sake ; and dinna speak o' Latin or English terms 
 to him, for he's o' the auld warld, and downa bide to be fashed 
 wi' them, though I dare say he may be wrang. And dinna ye 
 say muckle to him, but set him on speaking himsell, for he'll 
 bring himsell mair comfort that way. And 0, Reuben, the 
 poor lassie in yon dungeon ! — but I needna bid your kind heart 
 — gie her what comfort ye can as soon as they will let ye see 
 
 her ; tell her But I maunna speak mair about her, for I 
 
 maunna take leave o' ye wi' the tear in my ee, for that wadna 
 be canny. God bless ye, Reuben ! " 
 
 To avoid so ill an omen she left the room hastily, while her 
 features yet retained the mournful and affectionate smile which 
 she had compelled them to wear in order to support Butler's 
 spirits. 
 
 It seemed as if the power of sight, of speech, and of reflec- 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 971 
 
 tion had left him as she disappeared from the room, which 
 she had entered and retired from so like an apparition. Sad- 
 dletree, who entered immediately afterwards, overwhelmed 
 him with questions, which he answered without understand- 
 ing them, and with legal disquisitions, which conveyed to him 
 no iota of meaning. At length the learned burgess recollected 
 that there was a baron court to be held at Loanhead that day, 
 and though it was hardly worth while, "he might as weel go 
 to see if there was onything doing, as he was acquainted with 
 the baron-bailie, who was a decent man, and would be glad of 
 a word of legal advice." 
 
 So soon as he departed, Butler flew to the Bible, the last 
 book which Jeanie had touched. To his extreme surprise, a 
 paper, containing two or three pieces of gold, dropped from 
 the book. With a black-lead pencil she had marked the six- 
 teenth and twenty-fifth verses of the thirty-seventh Psalm — 
 "A little that a righteous man hath is better than the richi^s 
 of the wicked." "I have been young and am now old, yet 
 have I not seen the righteous forsaken, nor his seed begging 
 their bread." 
 
 Deeply impressed with the affectionate delicacy which 
 shrouded its own generosity under the cover of a providential 
 supply to his wants, he pressed the gold to his lips with more 
 ardor than ever the metal was greeted with by a miser. To 
 emulate her devout firmness and confidence seemed now the 
 pitch of his ambition, and his first task was to write an account 
 to David Deans of his daughter's resolution and journey south- 
 ward. He studied every sentiment, and even every phrase, 
 which he thought could reconcile the old man to her extraor- 
 dinary resolution. The effect which this epistle produced 
 will be hereafter adverted to. Butler committed it to the 
 charge of an honest clown, who had frequent dealings with 
 Deans in the sale of his dairy produce, and who readily under- 
 took a journey to Edinburgh to put the letter into his own 
 hands.* 
 
 * By dint of assiduous research, I am enabled to certiorate the reader that the 
 name of this person was Saunders Broadfoot, and that he dealt in the wholesom* 
 commodity called kirn-milk CAnglice, buttermilk").— J. C. 
 
CHAPTER XXVIIIS 
 
 My native land, good night ! 
 
 Lord Byron. 
 
 In the present day, a Jonrney from Edinburgh to London is a 
 matter at once safe, brief, and simple, however inexperienced 
 or unprotected the traveller. Numerous coaches of different 
 rates of charge, and as many packets, are perpetually passing 
 and repassing betwixt the capital of Britain and her northern 
 sister, so that the most timid or indolent may execute such a 
 journey upon a few hours' notice. But it was different in 1737. 
 So slight and infrequent was then the intercourse betwixt 
 London and Edinburgh that men still alive remember, that 
 upon one occasion tlie mail from the former city arrived at 
 the General Post- Office in Scotland with only one letter in it.* 
 The usual mode of travelling was by means of post-horses, the 
 traveller occupying one and his guide another, in which man- 
 ner, by relays of horses from stage to stage, the journey might 
 be accomplished in a wonderfully short time by those who 
 could* endure fatigue. To have the bones shaken to pieces by 
 a constant change of those hacks was a luxury for the rich ; 
 the poor were under the necessity of using the mode of con- 
 veyance with which nature had provided them. 
 
 With a strong heart, and a frame patient of fatigue, Jeanie 
 Deans, travelling at the rate of twenty miles a day, and some- 
 times further, traversed the southern part of Scotland and ad- 
 vanced as far as Durham. 
 
 Hitherto she had been either among her own country-folk, 
 or those to whom her bare feet and tartan screen were objects 
 too familiar to attract much attention. But as she advanced, 
 she perceived that both circumstances exposed her to sarcasm 
 and taunts which she might otherwise have escaped ; and al- 
 though in her heart she thought it unkind and inhospitable 
 to sneer at a passing stranger on account of the fashion of her 
 attire, yet she had the good sense to alter those parts of her 
 dress which attracted ill-natured observation. Her checked 
 
 * The fact is certain. The single epistle was addressed to the principal director 
 of the British Linen Company. 
 
 X2 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 278 
 
 screen was deposited carefnlly in her bundle, and she con- 
 formed to the national extravagance of wearing shoes and 
 stockings for the whole day. She confessed afterwards that, 
 ** besides the wastrife, it was lang or she could walk sae com- 
 fortably with the shoes as without them ; but there was often 
 a bit saft heather by the roadside, and that helped her weel 
 on." The want of the screen, which was drawn over the head 
 like a veil, she supplied by a Ion-grace, as she called it — a 
 large straw bonnet, like those worn by the English maidens 
 when laboring in the fields. " But I thought unco shame o* 
 mysell," she said, " the first time I put on a married woman's 
 Ion-grace, and me a single maiden/' 
 
 With these changes she had little, as she said, to make 
 "her kenspeckle when she didna speak," but her accent and 
 language drew down on her so many jests and gibes, couched 
 in a worse patois by far than her own, that she scon found it 
 was her interest to talk as little and as seldom as possible. 
 She answered, therefore, civil salutations of chance passen- 
 gers with a civil courtesy, and chose, with anxious circum- 
 spection, such places of repose as looked at once most decent 
 and sequestered. She found the common people of England, 
 although inferior in courtesy to strangers, such as was then 
 practised in her own more unfrequented country, yet, upon 
 the whole, by no means deficient in the real duties of hospi- 
 tality. She readily obtained food, and shelter, and protection 
 at a very moderate rate, which sometimes the generosity of 
 mine host altogether declined, with a blunt apology — " Thee 
 hast a lang way afore thee, lass ; and I'se ne'er take penny 
 out o' a single woman's purse ; it's the best friend thou can 
 have on the road." 
 
 It often happened, too, that mine hostess was struck with 
 " the tidy, nice Scotch body," and procured her an escort, or 
 a cast in a wagon, for some part of the way, or gave her use- 
 ful advice and recommendation respecting her resting-places. 
 
 At York our pilgrim stopped for the best part of a day — 
 partly to recruit her strength, partly because she had the 
 good luck to obtain a lodging in an inn kept by a country- 
 woman, partly to indite two letters to her father and Reuben 
 Butler, an operation of some little difficulty, her habits being 
 by no means those of literary composition. That to her father 
 was in the following words : 
 
 " Dearest Father, 
 
 " I make my present pilgrimage more neavy and burden- 
 some through the sad occasion to reflect that it is without 
 
;274 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 your knowledge, which, God knows, was far contrary to my 
 heart ; for Scripture says that ' the vow of the daughter should 
 not be binding without the consent of the father/ wherein it 
 may be I have been guilty to tak this wearie journey without 
 your consent. Nevertheless, it was borne in upon my mind 
 that I should be an instrument to help my poor sister in this 
 extremity of needcessity, otherwise I wad not, for wealth or for 
 world's gear, or for the haill lands of Da'keith and Lugton, 
 have done the like o'* this, without your free will and knowl- 
 edge. 0, dear father, as ye wad desire a blessing on my jour- 
 ney, and upon your household, speak a word or write a line of 
 comfort to yon poor prisoner. If she has sinned, she has sor- 
 rowed and suffered, and ye ken better than me that we maun 
 forgie others, as we pray to be forgien. Dear father, forgive 
 my saying this muckle, for it doth not become a young head 
 to instruct gray hairs ; but I am sae far f rae ye, that my heart 
 yearns to ye a', and fain wad I hear that ye had forgien her 
 trespass, and sae I nae doubt say mair than may become me. 
 The folk here are civil, and, like the barbarians unto the holy 
 apostle, hae shown me much kindness ; and there are a sort 
 of chosen people in the land, for they hae some kirks without 
 organs that are like ours, and are called meeting-houses, where 
 the minister preaches without a gown. But most of the coun- 
 try are prelatists, whilk is awfu' to think ; and I saw twa 
 men that were ministers following hunds, as bauld as Roslin 
 or Driden, the young Laird of Loup-the-Dike, or ony wild 
 gallant in Lothian. A sorrowfu' sight to behold ! 0, dear 
 father, may a blessing be with your down-lying and up-rising, 
 and remember in your prayers your affectionate daughter to 
 command, 
 
 " Jean Deans." 
 
 A postscript bore — "I learned from a decent woman, a 
 grazier's widow, that they hae a cure for the muir-ill in Cum- 
 berland, whilk is ane pint, as they ca't, of yill — whilk is a 
 dribble in comparison of our gawsie Scots pint, and hardly a 
 mutchkin — boil'd wi' sope and hartshorn draps, and toomed 
 doun the creature's throat wi' ane whom. Ye might try it 
 on the bauson-faced year-auld quey ; an it does nae gude, it 
 can do nae ill. She was a kind woman, and seemed skeely 
 about horned beasts. When I reach Lunnon, I intend to gang 
 to our cousin Mistress Glass, the tobacconist, at the sign 
 o' the Thistle, wha is so ceevil as to send you down your 
 spleuchan-fu' anes a year ; and as she must be weel kenn'd 
 in Lunnon, I doubt not easily to find out where she lives.'* 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 275 
 
 Being seduced into betraying our heroine's confidence 
 thus far, we will stretch our communication a step beyond, 
 and impart to the reader her letter to her lover. 
 
 " Mr. Reuben Butler, 
 
 "Hoping this will find you better, this comes to say, that 
 I have reached this great town safe, and am not wearied 
 with walking, but the better for it. And I have seen many 
 things which I trust to tell you one day, also the muckle kirk 
 of this place ; and all around the city are mills, whilk havena 
 muckle wheels nor mill-dams, but gang by the wind — strange 
 to behold. Ane miller asked me to gang in and see it work, 
 but I wad not, for I am not come to the south to make ac- 
 quaintance with strangers. I keep the straight road, and just 
 beck if onybody speaks to me ceevilly, and answers naebody 
 with the tong but women of mine ain sect. I wish, Mr. But- 
 ler, I kenn'd onything that wad mak ye weel, for they hae 
 niair medicines in this town of York than wad cure a' Scot- 
 land, and surely some of them wad be gude for your com- 
 plaints. If ye had a kindly motherly body to nurse ye, and 
 no to let ye waste yoursell wi' reading — whilk ye read mail 
 than eneugh with the bairns in the schule — and to gie ye warm 
 milk in the morning, I wad be mair easy for ye. Dear Mr. 
 Butler, keep a good heart, for we are in the hands of Ane 
 that kens better what is gude for us than we ken what is for 
 oursells. I hae nae doubt to do that for which I am come : 
 I canna doubt it — I winna think to doubt it ; because, if I 
 haena full assurance, how shall I bear myself with earnest 
 entreaties in the great folks' presence ? But to ken that ane's 
 purpose is right, and ta make their heart strong, is the way 
 to get through the warst day's darg. The bairns' rime says, 
 the warst blast of the borrowing days* couldna kill the three 
 silly poor hog-lambs. And if it be God's pleasure, we that 
 are sindered in sorrow may meet again in joy, even on this 
 hither side of Jordan. I dinna bid ye mind what I said at 
 our partin' anent my poor father and that misfortunate lassie, 
 for I ken you will do sae for the sake of Christian charity, 
 whilk is mair than the entreaties of her that is your servant 
 to command, 
 
 *' Jeanie Deans.'' 
 
 This letter also had a postscript. " Dear Reuben, If ye 
 think that it wad hae been right for me to have said mair and 
 kinder things to ye, just think that I hae written sae, since I 
 
 * See Note 39. 
 
376 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 am snre that I wish a' that is kind and right to ye and by ye. 
 Ye will think I am turned waster, for I wear clean hose and 
 shoon every day ; but it's the fashion here for decent bodies, 
 and ilka land has its ain lauch. Ower and aboon sl', if 
 laughing days were e'er to come back again till us, ye wad 
 laugh weel to see my round face at the far end of a strae bon- 
 grace, that looks as rauckle and round as the middell aisle in 
 Liberton kirk. But it sheds the sun weel aff, and keeps un- 
 ceevil folk f rae staring as if ane were a worriecow. I sail tell 
 ye by writ how I come on wi' the Duke of Argyle, when I 
 won up to Lunnon. Direct a line, to say how ye are, to me, 
 to the charge of Mrs. Margaret Glass, tobacconist, at the sign 
 of the Thistle, Lunnon, whilk, if it assures me of your health, 
 will make my mind sae muckle easier. Excuse bad spelling 
 and writing, as I have ane ill pen." 
 
 The orthography of these epistles may seem to the south- 
 ron to require a better apology than the letter expresses, 
 though a bad pen was the excuse of a certain Galwegian laird 
 for bad spelling ; but, on behalf of the heroine, I would have 
 them to know that, thanks to the care of Butler, Jeanie Deans 
 wrote and spelled fifty times better than half the women of 
 rank in Scotland at that period, whose strange orthography 
 and singular diction form the strongest contrast to the good 
 sense which their correspondence usually intimates. 
 
 For the rest, in the tenor of these epistles, Jeanie expressed, 
 perhaps, more hopes, a firmer courage, and better spirits than 
 she actually felt. But this was with the amiable idea of reliev- 
 ing her father and lover from apprehensions on her account, 
 which she was sensible must greatly add to their other troubles. 
 " If they think me weel, and like to do weel," said the poor 
 pilgrim to herself, " my father will be kinder to Eflfie, and But- 
 ler will be kinder to himself. For I ken weel that they will 
 think mair o' me than I do o' my sell." 
 
 Accordingly, she sealed her letters carefully, and put them 
 into the post-office with her own hand, after many inquiries con- 
 cerning the time in which they were likely to reach Edinburgh. 
 When this duty was performed, she readily accepted her land- 
 lady's pressing invitation to dine with her, and remain till the 
 next morning. The hostess, as we have said, was her country- 
 woman, and the eagerness with which Scottish people meet, 
 communicate, and, to the extent of their power, assist each 
 other, although it is often objected to us as a prejudice and 
 narrowness of sentiment, seems, on the contrary, to arise from a 
 most justifiable and honorable feeling of patriotism, combined 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 277 
 
 ■with a conviction, which, if undeserved, would long since have 
 been confuted by experience, that the habits and principles 
 of the nation are a sort of guarantee for the character of the 
 individual. At any rate, if the extensive influence of this 
 national partiality be considered as an additional tie, binding 
 man to man, and calling forth the good offices of such as can 
 render them to the countryman who happens to need them, we 
 think it must be found to exceed, as an active and efficient 
 motive to generosity, that more impartial and wider principle 
 of general benevolence, which we have sometimes seen pleaded 
 as an excuse for assisting no individual whatever. 
 
 Mrs. Bickerton, lady of tlie ascendant of the Seven Stars, in 
 the Castle Gate, York, was deeply infected with the unfortunate 
 prejudices of her country. Indeed, she displayed so much 
 kindness to Jeanie Deans (because she herself, being a Merse 
 Avoman, "marched" with Midlothian, in which Jeanie was 
 born), showed such motherly regard to her, and such anxiety 
 for her further progress, that Jeanie thought herself safe, 
 though by temper sufficiently cautious, in communicating her 
 whole story to her. 
 
 Mrs. Bickerton raised her hands and eyes at the recital, 
 and exhibited much wonder and pity. But she also gave 
 some effectual good advice. 
 
 She required to know the strength of Jeanie's purse, reduced 
 by her deposit at Liberton and the necessary expense of her 
 journey to about fifteen pounds. " This," she said, "would 
 do very well, providing she could carry it a' safe to London." 
 
 " Safe ! " answered Jeanie. " I'se warrant my carrying it 
 safe, bating the needful expenses." 
 
 "Ay, but highwaymen, lassie," said Mrs. Bickerton ; "for 
 ye are come into a more civilized, that is to say, a more ro- 
 guish, country than the north, and how ye are to get forward 
 I do not profess to know. If ye could wait here eight days, 
 our wagons would go up, and I would recommend you to Joe 
 Broadwheel, who would see you safe to the Swan and Two 
 Necks. And dinna sneeze at Joe, if he should be for drawing 
 up wi'you," continued Mrs. Bickerton, her acquired English 
 mingling with her national or original dialect ; " he's a handy 
 boy, and a wanter, and no lad better thought o' on the road ; 
 and the English make good husbands enough, witness my poor 
 man, Moses Bickerton, as is i' the kirkyard." 
 
 Jeanie hastened to say that she could not possibly wait for 
 tne setting forth of Joe Broadwheel ; being internally by no 
 means gratified with the idea of becoming the object of his 
 attention during the journey. 
 
878 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 "Aweel, lass/' answered the good landlady, "then thon 
 must pickle in thine ain poke-nook, and buckle thy girdle 
 thine ain gate. But take my advice, and hide thy gold in thy 
 stays, and keep a piece or two and some silver, in case thou be'st 
 spoke withal ; for there's as wud lads haunt within a day's 
 walk from hence as on the Braes of Donne in Perthshire. 
 And, lass, thou maunna gang staring through Lunnon, asking 
 wha kens Mrs. Glass at the sign o' the Thistle ; marry, they 
 would laugh thee to scorn. But gang thou to this honest 
 man,'^ and she put a direction into Jeanie's hand, " he kens 
 maist part of the 'sponsible Scottish folk in the city, and he 
 will find out your friend for thee." 
 
 Jeanie took the little introductory letter with sincere thanks; 
 but, something alarmed on the subject of the highway robbers, 
 her mind recurred to what Ratcliffe had mentioned to her, and 
 briefly relating the circumstances which placed a document so 
 extraordinary in her hands, she put the paper he had given 
 her into the hand of Mrs. Bickerton. 
 
 The Lady of the Seven Stars did not, indeed, ring a bell, 
 because such was not the fashion of the time, but she whistled 
 on a silver-call, which was hung by her side, and a tight serv- 
 ing-maiden entered the room. 
 
 •' Tell Dick Ostler to come here," said Mrs. Bickerton. 
 
 Dick Ostler accordingly made his appearance — a queer, 
 knowing, shambling animal, with a hatchet-face, a squint, a 
 game arm, and a limp. 
 
 " Dick Ostler," said Mrs. Bickerton, in a tone of author- 
 ity that showed she was, at least by adoption, Yorkshire too, 
 *' thou knowest most people and most things o' the road." 
 
 "Eye, eye, God help me, mistress," said Dick, shrugging 
 his shoulders betwixt a repentant and a knowing expression — 
 " eye ! I ha' know'd a thing or twa i' ma day, mistress." He 
 looked sharp and laughed, looked grave and sighed, as one 
 who was prepared to take the matter either way. 
 
 " Kenst thou this wee bit paper amang the rest, man ?'* 
 said Mrs. Bickerton, handing him the protection which Rat- 
 cliffe had given Jeanie Deans. 
 
 When Dick had looked at the paper, he winked with one 
 eye, extended his grotesque mouth from ear to ear, like a 
 navigable canal, scratched his head powerfully, and then said, 
 " Ken ! Ay, maybe we ken summat, an it werena for harm 
 to him, mistress." 
 
 " None in the world," said Mrs. Bickerton ; " only a 
 dram of Hollands to thyself, man, an thou will't speak." 
 
 " Why, then," said Dick, giving the head-band of his 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 379 
 
 breeches a knowing hoist with one hand, and kicking out one 
 foot behind him to accommodate the adjustment of that im- 
 portant habiliment, ''I dares to say the pass will be kenn'd 
 weel eneugh on the road, an that be all." 
 
 " But what sort of a lad was he ? " said Mrs. Bickerton, 
 winking to Jeanie, as proud of her knowing hostler. 
 
 " Why, what ken I ? Jim the Eat ! why he was cock 
 o' the North within this twelmonth, he and Scotch Wilson — 
 Handie Dandie, as they called him. But he's been out o' this 
 country a while, as I rackon ; but ony gentleman as keeps 
 the road o' this side Stamford will respect Jim's pass." 
 
 Without asking further questions, the landlady filled Dick 
 Ostler a bumper of Hollands. He ducked with his head and 
 shoulders, scraped with his more advanced hoof, bolted the 
 alcohol, to use the learned phrase, and withdrew to his own 
 domains. 
 
 " I would advise thee, Jeanie," said Mrs. Bickerton, " an 
 thou meetest with ugly customers o' the road, to show them 
 this bit paper, for it will serve thee, assure thyself." 
 
 A neat little supper concluded the evening. The exported 
 Scotswoman, Mrs. Bickerton by name, eat heartily of one or 
 two seasoned dishes, drank some sound old ale, and a glass of 
 stiff negus, while she gave Jeanie a history of her gout, admir- 
 ing how it was possible that she, whose fathers and mothers 
 for many generations had been farmers in Lammermuir, could 
 have come by a disorder so totally unknown to them. Jeanie 
 did not choose to offend her friendly landlady by speaking her 
 mind on the probable origin of this complaint ; but she thought 
 on the flesh-pots of Egypt, and, in spite of all entreaties to 
 better fare, made her evening meal upon vegetables, with a 
 glass of fair water. 
 
 Mrs, Bickerton assured her that the acceptance of any 
 reckoning was entirely out of the question, furiiished her with 
 credentials to her correspondent in London, and to several 
 inns upon the road where she had some influence or. interest, 
 reminded her of the precautions she should adopt for conceal- 
 ing her money, and, as she Avas to depart early in the morn- 
 ing, took leave of her very affectionately, taking her word 
 that she would visit her on her return to Scotland, and tell 
 her how she had managed, and that summiim honum for 
 a gossip, **all how and about it." This Jeanie faithfully 
 promised. 
 
CHAPTER XXIX 
 
 And Need and Misery, Vice and Danger, bind, 
 In sad alliance, each degraded mind. 
 
 As our traveller set out early on the ensuing morning to prose- 
 cute her journey^ and was in the act of leaving the inn-yard, 
 Dick Ostler, who either had risen early or neglected to go to 
 bed, either circumstance being equally incident to his call- 
 ing, hallooed out after her — " The top of the morning to yon, 
 Moggie ! Have a care o' Gunnerby Hill, young one. Robin 
 Hood's dead and gwone, but there be takers yet in the vale of 
 Beever." Jeanie looked at him as if to request a further ex- 
 planation, but, with a leer, a shuffle, and a shrug, inimitable 
 (unless by Emery), Dick turned again to the raw-boned steed 
 which he was currying, and sung as he employed the comb and 
 brush — 
 
 " Robin Hood was a yeoman good, 
 And his bow was of trusty yew ; 
 And if Robin said stand on the king's lea-land, 
 Pray, why should not we say so too? " 
 
 Jeanie pursued her journey without further inquiry, for 
 there was nothing in Dick's manner that inclined her to pro- 
 long their conference. A painful day's journey brought her 
 to Ferrybridge, the best inn, then and since, upon the great 
 northern road ; and an introduction from Mrs. Bickerton, 
 added to her own simple and quiet manners, so propitiated 
 the landlady of the Swan in her favor that the good dame pro- 
 cured her the convenient accommodation of a pillion and post- 
 horse then returning to Tuxford ; so that she accomplished, 
 upon the second day after leaving York, the longest journey 
 she had yet made. She was a good deal fatigued by a mode 
 of travelling to which she was less accustomed than to walking, 
 and it was considerably later than usual on the ensuing morn- 
 ing that she felt herself able to resume her pilgrimage. At 
 noon the hundred armed Trent, and the blackened ruins of 
 Newark Castle, demolished in the great Civil War, lay before 
 her. It may easily be supposed that Jeanie had no curiosity 
 to make antiquarian researches, bat, entering the town, went 
 
 880 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 98; 
 
 straight to the inn to which she had been directed at Ferry- 
 bridge. While she procnred some refreshment, she observed 
 the girl who brought it to her looked at her several times with 
 fixed and peculiar interest, and at last, to her infinite surprise, 
 inquired if her name was not Deans, and if she was not a 
 Scotchwoman, going to London upon justice business. Jeanie, 
 with all her simplicity of character, had some of the caution 
 of her country, and, according to Scottish universal custom, 
 she answered the question by another, requesting the girl 
 would tell her why she asked these questions. 
 
 The Maritornes of the Saracen's Head, Newark, replied, 
 ^' Two women had passed that morning, who had made 
 inquiries after one Jeanie Deans, travelling to London on 
 such an errand, and could scarce be persuaded that she had 
 not passed on." 
 
 Much surprised, and somewhat alarmed, for what is in- 
 explicable is usually alarming, Jeanie questioned the wench 
 about the particular appearance of these two women, but 
 could only learn that the one was aged and the other young ; 
 that the latter was the taller, and that the former spoke most 
 and seemed to maintain an authority over her companion, 
 and that both spoke with the Scottish accent. 
 
 This conveyed no information whatever, and with an in- 
 describable presentiment of evil designed towards her, Jeanie 
 adopted the resolution of taking post-horses for the next stage. 
 In this, however, she could not be gratified ; some accidental 
 circumstances had occasioned what is called a run upon the 
 road, and the landlord could not accommodate her with a 
 guide and horses. After waiting some time in hopes that 
 a pair of horses that had gone southward would return in 
 time for her use, she at length, feeling ashamed of her own 
 pusillanimity, resolved to prosecute her journey in her usual 
 manner. 
 
 " It was all plain road," she was assured, "except a high 
 mountain, called Gunnerby Hill, about three miles from 
 Grantham, which was her stage for the night." 
 
 ''I'm glad to hear there's a hill," said Jeanie, "for baith 
 my sight and my very feet are weary o' sic tracts o' level 
 ground ; it looks a' the way between this and York as if a' 
 the land had been trenched and levelled, whilk is very weari- 
 some to my Scotch een. When I lost sight of a muckle blue 
 hill they ca' Ingleboro', I thought I liadna a friend left in 
 this strange land." 
 
 " As for the matter of that, young woman," said mine 
 host, " and you be so fond o' hill, I carena an thou couldst 
 
2S2 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 carry Gunnerby away with thee in thy lap, for it's a murdei 
 to post-horses. But here's to thy journey, and mayst thou 
 win well through it, for thou is a bold and a canny lass." 
 
 So saying, he took a powerful pull at a solemn tankard of 
 home-brewed ale. 
 
 *' I hope there is nae bad company on the road, sir ? " 
 said Jeanie. 
 
 " Why, when it's clean without them I'll thatch Groby 
 pool wi' pancakes. But there arena sae mony now ; and since 
 they hae lost Jim the Eat, they hold together no better than 
 the men of Marsham when they lost their common. Take a 
 drop ere thou goest," he concluded, offering her the tankard ; 
 '' thou wilt get uaething at night save Grantham gruel, nine 
 grots and a gallon of water." 
 
 Jeanie courteously declined the tankard, and inquired 
 what was her "lawing." 
 
 " Thy lawing ! Heaven help thee, wench ! what ca'st 
 thou that ? " 
 
 " It is — I was wanting to ken what was to pay," replied 
 Jeanie. 
 
 "Pay ! Lord help thee ! why, nought, woman ; we hae 
 drawn no liquor but a gill o' beer, and the Saracen's Head 
 can spare a mouthful o' meat to a stranger like o' thee, that 
 cannot speak Christian language. So here's to thee once 
 more. ' The same again, quoth Mark of Bellgrave,' " and 
 he took another profound pull at the tankard. 
 
 The travellers who have visited Newark m(^re lately will 
 not fail to remember the remarkably civil and gentlemanly 
 manners of the person who now keeps the principal inn there, 
 and may find some amusement in contrasting them with those 
 of his more rough predecessor. But we believe it will be found 
 that the polish has worn off none of the real worth of the 
 metal. 
 
 Taking leave of her Lincolnshire Gains, Jeanie resumed 
 her solitary walk, and was somewhat alarmed when evening 
 and twilight overtook her in the open ground which extends 
 to the foot of Gunnerby Hill, and is intersected with patches 
 of copse and with swampy spots. The extensive commons 
 on the north road, most of which are now enclosed, and in 
 general a relaxed state of police, exposed the traveller to a 
 highway robbery in a degree which is now unknown, excepting 
 in the immediate vicinity of the metropolis. Aware of this 
 circumstance, Jeanie mended her pace when she heard the 
 trampling of a horse behind, and instinctively drew to one 
 side of the road, as if to allow as much room for the rider to 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 288 
 
 pass as might be possible. When the animal came up, she 
 found that it was bearing two women, the one placed on a 
 side-saddle, the other on a pillion behind her, as may still 
 occasionally be seen in England. 
 
 "A braw gude night to ye, Jeanie Deans," said the fore- 
 most female, as the horse passed our heroine. " What think 
 ye o' yon bonny hill yonder, lifting its brow to the moon ? 
 Trow ye yon^s the gate to Heaven, that ye are sae fain of ? 
 Maybe we may win there the night yet, God sain us, though 
 our minnie here's rather dreich in the upgang." 
 
 The speaker kept changing her seat in the saddle, and 
 half stopping the horse, as she brought her body round, while 
 the woman that sat behind her on the pillion seemed to urge 
 her on, in words which Jeanie heard but imperfectly. 
 
 " Hand your tongue, ye moon-raised b ! what is your 
 
 business with , or with Heaven or Hell either ? " 
 
 •^^ Troth, mither, no muckle wi' Heaven, I doubt, con- 
 sidering wha I carry ahint me ; and as for Hell, it will fight 
 its ain battle at its ain time, I'se be bound. Come, naggie, 
 trot awa', man, an as thou wert a broomstick, for a witch 
 rides thee — 
 
 With my curch on my foot, and my shoe on my hand, 
 
 I glance like the wildfire through brugh and through land." 
 
 The tramp of the horse, and the increasing distance, 
 drowned the rest of her song, but Jeanie heard for some time 
 the inarticulate sounds ring along the waste. 
 
 Our pilgrim remained stupefied with undefined apprehen- 
 sions. The being named by her name in so wild a manner, 
 and in a strange country, without further explanation or 
 communing, by a person who thus strangely flitted forward 
 and disappeared before her, came near to the supernatural 
 sounds in Comus : 
 
 The airy tongues, which syllable men's names 
 On sands, and shores, and desert wildernesses. 
 
 And although widely different in features, deportment, and 
 rank from the Lady of that enchanting masque, the contin- 
 uation of the passage may be happily applied to Jeanie Deans 
 upon this singular alarm : 
 
 These thoughts may startle well, but not astound 
 The virtuqus mind, that ever walks attended 
 By a strong siding champion — Conscience. 
 
 In fact, it was, with the recollection of the affectionate 
 
384 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 and dutiful errand on which she was engaged, her right, if 
 such a word could be applicable, to expect protection in a 
 task so meritorious. She had not advanced much further, 
 with a mind calmed by these reflections, when she was dis- 
 turbed by a new and more instant subject of terror. Two men 
 who had been lurking among some copse started up as she 
 advanced, and met her on the road in a menacing manner. 
 " Stand and deliver,^^ said one of them, a short stout fellow, 
 in a smock-frock, such as are worn by wagoners. 
 
 ''The woman," said the other, a tall thin figure, "does 
 not understand the words of action. Your money, my pre- 
 cious, or your life ! " 
 
 "1 have but very little money, gentlemen," said poor 
 Jeanie, tendering that portion which she had separated from 
 her principal stock, and kept apart for such an emergency ; 
 *' but if you are resolved to have it, to be sure you must 
 have it." 
 
 " This won't do, my girl. D — n me if it shall pass ! " said 
 the shorter ruffian; "do ye think gentlemen are to hazard 
 their lives on the road to be cheated in this way ? We'll have 
 every farthing you have got, or we will strip you to the skin, 
 curse me." 
 
 His companion, who seemed to have something like com- 
 passion for the horror which Jeanie's countenance now ex- 
 pressed, said, "No, no, Tom, this is one of the precious sis- 
 ters, and we'll take her word, for once, without putting her 
 to the stripping proof. Hark ye, my lass, if you'll look up to 
 heaven and say this is the last penny you have about ye, why, 
 hang it, we'll let you pass." 
 
 "I am not free," answered Jeanie, "to say what I have 
 about me, gentlemen, for there's life and death depends on 
 my journey ; but if you leave me as much as finds me in bread 
 and water, I'll be satisfied, and thank you, and pray for 
 you." 
 
 "D — n your prayers !" said the shorter fellow ; "that's a 
 coin that won't pass with us ; " and at the same time made a 
 motion to seize her. 
 
 " Stay, gentlemen," RatclifEe's pass suddenly occurring to 
 her; " perhaps you know this paper." 
 
 " What the devil is she after now, Frank ? " said the more 
 savage ruffian. " Do you look at it, for d — n me if I could 
 read it, if it were for the benefit of my clergy." 
 
 " This is a jark from Jim Eatcliffe," said the taller, having 
 looked at the bit of paper. " The wench must pass by our 
 cutter's law." 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 986 
 
 "I say no/' answered his companion. "Rat has left the 
 lay, and turned bloodhound, they say." 
 
 " We may need a good turn from him all the same, "said the 
 taller ruffian again. 
 
 "But what are we to do then ?" said the shorter man. 
 " "We promised, you know, to strip the wench and send her 
 begging back to her own beggarly country, and now you are 
 for letting her go on." 
 
 " I did not say that," said the other fellow, and whispered 
 to his companion, who replied, " Be alive about it, then, and 
 don't keep chattering till some travellers come up to nab us." 
 
 " You must follow us off the road, young woman," said the 
 taller. 
 
 "For the love of God !" exclaimed Jeanie, "as you were 
 born of woman, dinna ask me to leave the road ! rather take 
 all I have in the world." 
 
 " What the devil is the wench afraid of ?" said the other 
 fellow. " I tell you you shall come to no harm ; but if you 
 will not leave the road and come with us, d — n me, but I'll 
 beat your brains out where you stand." 
 
 " Thou art a rough bear, Tom," said his companion. " An 
 ye touch her, I'll give ye a shake by the collar shall make the 
 Leicester beans rattle in thy guts. Never mind him, girl ; I 
 will not allow him to lay a finger on you, if you walk quietly 
 on with us ; but if you keep jabbering there, d — n me, but 
 I'll leave him to settle it with you." 
 
 This threat conveyed all that is terrible to the imagination 
 of poor Jeanie, who saw in him that "was of milder mood" 
 her only protection from the most brutal treatment. She, 
 therefore, not only followed him, but even held him by the 
 sleeve, lest he should escape from her ; and the fellow, hard- 
 ened as he was, seemed something touched by these marks of 
 confidence, and repeatedly assured her that he would suffer her 
 to receive no harm. 
 
 They conducted their prisoner in a direction leading more 
 and more from the public road, but she observed that they 
 kept a sort of track or by-path, which relieved her from part 
 of her apprehensions, which would have been greatly increased 
 had they not seemed to follow a determined and ascertained 
 route. After about half an hour's walking, all three in pro- 
 found silence, they approached an old barn, which stood on 
 the edge of some cultivated ground, but remote from every- 
 thing like an habitation. It was itself, however, tenanted, for 
 there was light in the windows. 
 
 One of the footpads scratched at the door, which was 
 
286 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 opened by a female, and they entered with their nnhappy 
 prisoner. An old woman, who was preparing food by the as- 
 sistance of a stifling fire of lighted charcoal, asked them, in 
 the name of the devil, what they brought the wench there for, 
 and why they did not strip her and turn her abroad on the 
 common. 
 
 ''Come, come. Mother Blood," said the tall man, "we'll 
 do what's right to oblige you, and we'll do no more ; we are 
 bad enough, bnt not such as you would make us — devils incar- 
 nate." 
 
 " She has got a jark from Jim Ratcliffe," said the short 
 fellow, " and Frank here won't hear of our putting her through 
 the mill." 
 
 "No, that will I not, by G— d !" answered Frank ; "but 
 if old Mother Blood could keep her here for a little while, or 
 send her back to Scotland, without hurting her, why, I see no 
 harm in that, not I." 
 
 " I'll tell you what, Frank Levitt," said the old woman, 
 "if you call me Mother Blood again, I'll paint this gulley 
 [and she held a knife up as if about to make good her threat] 
 in the best blood in your body, my bonny boy." 
 
 " The price of ointment must be up in the north," said 
 Frank;, "that puts Mother Blood so much out of humor." 
 
 Without a moment's hesitation the fury darted her knife 
 at him with tiie vengeful dexterity of a wild Indian. As he 
 was on his guard, he avoided the missile by a sudden motion 
 ^f his head, but it whistled past his ear and stuck deep in the 
 -ilay wall of a partition behind. 
 
 " Come, come, mother," said the robber, seizing her by 
 both wrists, " I shall teach you who's master ; " and so saying, 
 he forced the hag backwards by main force, who strove vehe- 
 mently until she sunk on a bunch of straw, and then letting 
 go her hands, he held up his finger towards her in the men- 
 acing posture by which a maniac is intimidated by his keeper. 
 It appeared to produce the desired effect ; for she did not at- 
 tempt to rise from the seat on which he had placed her, or to 
 resume any measures of actual violence, but wrung her 
 withered hands with impotent rage, and brayed and howled 
 (ike a demoniac. 
 
 " I will keep my promise with you, you old devil," said 
 Frank ; " the wench shall not go forward on the London road, 
 but I will not have you touch a hair of her head, if it were 
 but for your insolence." 
 
 This intimation seemed to compose in some degree the 
 "Vehement passion of the old hag ; and while her exclamations 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 287 
 
 and howls sunk into a low, maundering, growling tone of 
 voice, another personage was added to this singular party. 
 
 ''Eh, Frank Levitt," said this new-comer, who entered 
 with a hop, step, and jump, which at once conveyed her from 
 the door into the centre of the party, "were ye killing our 
 mother ? or were ye cutting the grunter's weasand that Tarn 
 brought in this morning ? or have ye been reading your 
 prayers backward, to bring up my auld acquaintance the deil 
 amang ye ? " 
 
 The tone of the speaker was so particular that Jeanie im- 
 mediately recognized the woman who had rode foremost of 
 the pair which passed her just before she met the robbers ; a 
 circumstance which greatly increased her terror, as it served 
 to show that the mischief designed against her was premedi- 
 tated, though by whom, or for what cause, she was totally at 
 a loss to conjecture. From the style of her conversation, the 
 reader also may probably acknowledge in this female an old 
 acquaintance in the earlier part of our narrative. 
 
 " Out, ye mad devil ! " said Tom, whom she had disturbed 
 in the middle of a draught of some liquor with which he had 
 found means of accommodating himself ; ''betwixt your 
 Bess of Bedlam pranks and your dam's frenzies a man might 
 live quieter in the devil's den than here." And he again re- 
 sumed the broken jug out of which he had been drinking. 
 
 " And what's this o't ? " said the madwoman, dancing up 
 to Jeanie Deans, who, although in great terror, yet watched 
 the scene with a resolution to let nothing pass unnoticed which 
 might be serviceable in assisting her to escape, or informing her 
 as to the true nature of her situation, and the danger attend- 
 ing it. " What's this o't ? " again exclaimed Madge Wildfire. 
 " Douce Davie Deans, the auld doited Whig body's daughter 
 in a gypsy's barn, and the night setting in ; this is a sight for 
 sair een ! Eh, sirs, the falling off o' the godly ! And the 
 t'other sister's in the tolbooth at Edinburgh ! I am very sorry 
 for her, for my share ; it's my mother wusses ill to her, and 
 no me, though maybe I hae as muckle cause." 
 
 "Hark ye, Madge," said the taller ruffian, "you have not 
 such a touch of the devil's blood as the hag your mother, who 
 may be his dam for what I know ; take this young woman to 
 your kennel, and do not let the devil enter, though he should 
 ask in God's name." 
 
 " Ou ay, that I will, Frank," said Madge, taking hold of 
 Jeanie by the arm, and pulling her along ; " for it's no for 
 decent Christian young leddies, like her and me, to be keep- 
 ing the like o' you and Tyburn Tam company at this time o' 
 
288 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 night. Sae gude e'en t'ye, sirs, and mony o'them ; and may 
 ye a' sleep till the hangman wauken ye, and then it will be 
 weel for the country." 
 
 She then, as her wild fancy seemed suddenly to prompt 
 her, walked demurely towards her mother, who, seated by the 
 charcoal fire, with the reflection of the red light on her withered 
 and distorted features, marked by every evil passion, seemed 
 the very picture of Hecate at her infernal rites ; and sud- 
 denly dropping on her knees, said, with the manner of a six- 
 years-old ciiild, '' Mammie, hear me say my prayers before I 
 go to bed, and say God bless my bonny face, as ye used to do 
 lang syne." 
 
 "The deil flay the hide o' it to sole his brogues wi' I" said 
 the old lady, aiming a buifet at the supplicant in answer to 
 her duteous request. 
 
 The blow missed Madge, who, being probably acquainted 
 by experience with the mode in which her mother was wont to 
 confer her maternal benedictions, slipped out of arm's-length 
 with great dexterity and quickness. The hag then started up, 
 and, seizing a pair of old fire-tongs, world have amended her 
 motion by beating out the brains either of her daughter or 
 Jeanie, she did not seem greatly to care which, when her hand 
 was once more arrested by the man whom they called Frank 
 Levitt, who, seizing her by the shoulder, flung her from him 
 with great violence, exclaiming, " "What, Mother Damnable, 
 again, and in my sovereign presence ? Hark ye, Madge of 
 Bedlam, get to your hole with your playfellow, or we shall 
 have the devil to pay here, and nothing to pay him with." 
 
 Madge took Levitt's advice, retreating as fast as she 
 could, and dragging Jeanie along with her, into a sort of re- 
 cess, partitioned off from the rest of the barn, and filled with 
 straw, from which it appeared that it was intended for the 
 purpose of slumber. The moonlight shone through an open 
 hole upon a pillion, a pack-saddle, and one or two wallets, 
 the travelling furniture of Madge and her amiable mother. 
 " Now, saw ye e'er in your life," said Madge, "sae dainty a 
 chamber of deas ? See as the moon shines down sae caller 
 on the fresh Jtrae ! There's no a pleasanter cell in Bedlam, 
 for as braw a place as it is on the outside. Were ye ever in 
 Bedlam ? " 
 
 "No," answered Jeanie, faintly, appalled by the question 
 and the way in which it was put, yet willing to soothe her 
 insane companion ; being in circumstances so unhappily pre- 
 carious that even the society of this gibbering madwoman 
 seemed a species of protection. 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 281> 
 
 " Neyer in Bedlam ! " said Madge, as if with some sur- 
 prise. " But ye'll hae been in the cells at Edinburgh ? " 
 
 " Never," repeated Jeanie. 
 
 " "Weel, I think thae daft carles the magistrates send nae- 
 body to Bedlam but me ; they maun hae an unco respect for 
 me, for whenever I am brought to them they aye hae me back 
 to Bedlam. But troth, Jeanie [she said this in a very confi- 
 dential tone], to tell ye my private mind about it, I think ye 
 are at nae great loss ; for the keeper's across patch, and he 
 maun hae it a' his ain gate, to be sure, or he makes the place 
 waur than hell. I often tell him he's the daftest in a' the 
 house. But what are they making sic a skirling for ? Deil 
 ane o' them's get in here ; it wadna be mensefu' ! I will sit 
 wi'my back again the door ; it winnabe that easy stirring me." 
 
 " Madge ! "—" Madge ! "—" Madge Wildfire ! "—" Madge 
 devil! what have ye done with the horse?" was repeatedly 
 asked by the men without. 
 
 ''He's e'en at his supper, puir thing," answered Madge; 
 ''deil an ye were at yours too, an it werescauding brimstane, 
 and then we wad hae less o' your din." 
 
 " His supper ! " answered the more sulky ruffian. " What 
 d*ye mean by that ? Tell me where he is, or I will knock 
 your Bedlam brains out ! " 
 
 "He's in Gaffer Gabblewood's wheat-close, an ye maun 
 ken." 
 
 " His wheat-close, you crazed jilt ! " answered the other, 
 with an accent of great indignation. 
 
 " 0, dear Tyburn Tam, man, what ill will the blades of 
 the young wheat do to the puir naig ? " 
 
 " That is not the question," said the other robber ; "but 
 what the country will say to us to-morrow when they see him 
 in such quarters. Go, Tom, and bring him in ; and avoid 
 the soft ground, my lad ; leave no hoof-track behind you." 
 
 " I think you give me always the fag of it, whatever is to 
 be done," grumbled his companion. 
 
 " ' Leap, Laurence, you're long enough,'" said the other ; 
 and the fellow left the barn accordingly, without further re- 
 monstrance. 
 
 In the meanwhile, Madge had arranged herself for repose 
 on the straw ; but still in a half-sitting posture, with her back 
 resting against the door of the hovel, which, as it opened in- 
 wards, was in this manner kept shut by the weight of her 
 person. 
 
 " There's mair shifts bye stealing, Jeanie," said Madge 
 Wildfire ; " though whiles I can hardlv get our mother to 
 
390 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 think sae. Wha wad hae thought but my^ell of making a 
 bolt of my ain backbane ? But it's no sae strong as thae that 
 I hae seen in the tolbooth at Edinburgh. The hammermen 
 of Edinburgh are to my mind afore the world for making 
 stanchions, ring-bolts, fetter-bolts, bars, and locks. And they 
 arena that bad at girdles for carcakes neither, though the 
 Cu^ross hammermen have the gree for that. My mother had 
 ance a bonny Cu'ross girdle, and I thought to have baked 
 car-cakes on it for my puir wean that's dead and gane nae fair 
 way ; but we maun a' dee, ye ken, Jeanie. You Cameronian 
 bodies ken that brawly ; and ye're for making a hell upon 
 earth that ye may be less unwillin' to part wi' it. But as 
 touching Bedlam, that ye were speaking about, I'se ne'er rec- 
 ommend it muckle the tae gate or the tother, be it right, be 
 it wrang. But ye ken what the sang says ? " And, pursuing 
 the unconnected and floating wanderings of her mind, she 
 sung aloud — 
 
 " In the bonny cells of Bedlam, 
 
 Ere I was ane-and- twenty, 
 I had hempen bracelets strong. 
 And merry w^hips, ding-dong, 
 
 And prayer and fasting plenty. 
 
 Weel, Jeanie, I am something herse the night, and I canna 
 sing muckle mair ; and troth, I think I am gaun to sleep." 
 
 She drooped her head on her breast, a posture from which 
 Jeanie, who would have given the world for an opportunity 
 of quiet to consider the means and the probability of her es- 
 cape, was very careful not to disturb her. After nodding, 
 however, for a minute or two, with her eyes half closed, the 
 unquiet and restless spirit of her malady again assailed Madge. 
 She raised her head and spoke, but with a lowered tone, which 
 was again gradually overcome by drowsiness, to which the 
 fatigue of a day's Journey on horseback had probably given 
 unwonted occasion — " I dinna ken what makes me sae sleepy; 
 I amaist never sleep till my bonny Lady Moon gangs till her 
 bed, mair by token when she's at the full, ye ken, rowing 
 aboon us yonder in her grand silver coach. I have danced to 
 her my lane sometimes for very joy, and whiles dead folk came 
 and danced wi' me, the like o' Jock Porteous, or onybody I 
 had kenn'd when I was living ; for ye maun ken I was ance 
 dead mysell." Here the poor maniac sung in a low and wild 
 tone — 
 
 •* My banes are buried in yon kirkyard 
 
 Sae far ayont the sea, 
 And it is but my blithesome ghaist 
 
 That's speaking now to thee. 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 391 
 
 Bnt, after a*, Jeanie, my woman, naebody kens weel wha's 
 living and wha's dead — or wha's gane to Fairyland, there's 
 another question. Whiles I think my puir bairn's dead ; ye 
 ken very weel it's buried, but that signifies naething. I have 
 had it on my knee a hundred times, and a hundred till that, 
 since it was buried ; and how could that be were it dead, ye 
 ken ? It's merely impossible." And here, some conviction 
 half overcoming the reveries of her imagination, she burst 
 into a fit of crying and ejaculation, "Wae's me ! wae's me ! 
 wae's me ! " till at length she moaned and sobbed herself into 
 a deep sleep, which was soon intimated by her breathing 
 hard, leaving Jeanie to her own melancholy reflections and 
 observations. 
 
CHAPTER XXX 
 
 Bind her quickly ; or, by this steel, 
 I'll tell, although I truss for company. 
 
 Fletcher. 
 
 The imperfect light which shone into the window enabled 
 Jeanie to see that there was scarcely any chance of making 
 her escape in that direction ; for the aperture was high in the 
 wall, and so narrow that, could she have climbed up to it, she 
 might well doubt w' other it would have permitted her to 
 pass her body through it. An unsuccessful attempt to escape 
 would be sure to draw down worse treatment than she now 
 received, and she therefore resolved to watch her opportunity 
 carefully ere making such a perilous effort. For this pur- 
 pose she applied herself to the ruinous clay partition which 
 divided the hovel in which she now was from the rest of the 
 waste barn. It was decayed, and full of cracks and chinks, 
 one of wliich she enlarged with her fingers, cautiously and 
 without noise, until she could obtain a plain view of the old 
 hag and the taller ruffian, whom they called Levitt, seated 
 together beside the decayed fire of charcoal, and apparently 
 engaged in close conference. She was at first terrified by the 
 sight, for the features of th'^; old woman had a hideous cast 
 of hardened and inveterate malice and ill-humor, and those 
 of the man, though naturally less unfavorable, were such as 
 corresponded well with licentious habits and a lawless pro- 
 fession. 
 
 ''But I remembered,^' said Jeanie, "my worthy father's 
 tales of a winter evening, how he was confined with the 
 blessed martyr, Mr. James Ren wick, who lifted up the fallen 
 standard of the true reformed Kirk of Scotland, after the 
 worthy and renowned Daniel [Richard] Cameron, our last 
 blessed bannerman, had fallen among the swords of the 
 wicked at Aird's Moss, and how the very hearts of the wicked 
 malefactors and murderers whom they were confined withal 
 were melted like wax at the sound of their doctrine, and I 
 bethought mysell, that the same help that was wi' them in 
 their strait, wad be wi' me in mine, an I could but watch the 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 398 
 
 Lord's time and opportunity for delivering my feet from tlieir 
 snare ; and I minded the Scripture of the blessed Psalmist, 
 whilk he insistetli on, as weel in the forty-second as in the 
 forty-third psalm, ' Why art thou cast down, my soul, and 
 why art thou disquieted within me ? Hope in God, for I 
 shall yet praise him, who is the health of my countenance, 
 and my God.'" 
 
 Strengthened in a mind naturally calm, sedate, and firm, 
 by the influence of religious confidence, this poor captive was 
 enabled to attend to, and comprehend, a great part of an in- 
 teresting conversation which passed betwixt those into whose 
 hands she had fallen, notwithstanding that their meaning was 
 partly disguised by the occasional use of cant terms, of which 
 Jeanie knew not the import, by the low tone in which they 
 spoke, and by their mode of supplying their broken phrases 
 by shrugs and signs, as is usual among those of their disor- 
 derly profession. 
 
 Tlie man opened the conversation by saying, " Now, dame, 
 you see I am true to my friend. I have not forgot that you 
 planked a chury which helped me through the bars of the 
 Castle of York, and I came to do your work without asking 
 questions, for one good turn deserves another. But now that 
 Madge, who is as loud as Tom of Lincoln, is somewhat still, 
 and this same Tyburn Neddie is shaking his heels after the 
 old nag, why, you must tell me what all this is about, and 
 what's to be done ; for d — n me if I touch the girl, or let her 
 be touched, and she with Jim Rat's pass too." 
 
 "Thou art an honest lad, Frank," answered the old wom- 
 an, "'but e'en too kind for thy trade ; thy tender heart will 
 get thee into trouble. I will see ye gang up Holborn Hill 
 backward, and a' on the word of some silly loon that could 
 never hae rapped to ye had ye drawn your knife across his 
 weasand." 
 
 " You may be balked there, old one," answered the rob- 
 ber ; " I have known many a pretty lad cut short in his first 
 summer upon the road, because he was something hasty with 
 his flats and sharps. Besides, a man would fain live out his 
 two years with a good conscience. So, tell me what all this 
 is about, and what's to be done for you that one can do de- 
 cently?" 
 
 " Why, you must know, Frank — but first taste a snap of 
 right Hollands." She drew a flask from her pocket, and 
 filled the fellow a large bumper, which he pronounced to be 
 the right thing. "You must know, then, Frank — wunua ye 
 mend your hand ? " again offering the flask. 
 
294 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 *' No, no ; when a woman wants mischief from you, she 
 always begins by filling you drunk. D — n all Dutch cour- 
 age. What I do I will do soberly. I'll last the longer for 
 that too." 
 
 " Well, then, you must know," resumed the old woman, 
 without any further attempts at propitiation, " that this girl 
 is going to London," 
 
 Here Jeanie could only distinguish the word '' sister." 
 
 The robber answered in a louder tone, " Fair enough that ; 
 and what the devil is your business with it ? " 
 
 " Business enough, I think. If the b queers the 
 
 noose, that silly cull will marry her." 
 
 " And who cares if he does ?" said the man. 
 
 " Who cares, ye donnard Neddie ? / care ; and I will 
 strangle her with my own hands rather than she should come 
 to Madge's preferment." 
 
 '' Madge's preferment ! Does your old blind eyes see no 
 further than that ? If he is as you say, d'ye think he'll ever 
 marry a moon-calf like Madge ? Ecod, that's a good one. 
 Marry Madge Wildfire ! ha ! ha ! ha ! " 
 
 " Hark ye, ye crack-rope padder, born beggar, and bred 
 thief ! " replied the hag ; " suppose he never marries the 
 wench, is that a reason he should marry another, and that 
 other to hold my daughter's place, and she crazed, and I a 
 beggar, and all along of him ? But I know that of him will 
 hang him — I know that of him will hang him, if he had a 
 thousand lives — I know that of him will hang — hang — hang 
 him ! " 
 
 She grinned as she repeated and dwelt upon the fatal mon- 
 osyllable with the emphasis of a vindictive fiend. 
 
 "Then why don't you hang — hang — hang him? "said 
 Frank, repeating her words contemptuously. " There would 
 be more sense in that, tlian in wreaking yourself here upon 
 two wenches that have done you and your daughter no ill." 
 
 '*' No ill !" answered the old woman ; " and he to marry 
 this jail-bird, if ever she gets her foot loose ! " 
 
 "■ But as there is no chance of his marrying a bird of your 
 brood, I cannot, for my soul, see what you have to do with 
 all this," again reialied the robber, shrugging his shoulders. 
 " Where there is aught to be got, I'll go as far as my neigh- 
 bors, but I hate mischief for mischief's sake." 
 
 " And would you go nae length for revenge ?" said the 
 hag — ''for revenge, the sweetest morsel to the mouth that 
 ever was cooked in hell ! " 
 
 "The devil may keep it for his own eating, then," said 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 295 
 
 the robber; ''for hang me if I like tlie sauce he dresses it 
 with." 
 
 '' Revenge ! " continued the old woman ; " why, it is the 
 best reward the devil gives us for our time here and hereafter. 
 I have wrought hard for it, I have suffered for it, and I have 
 sinned for it, and I will have it — or there is neither justice in 
 Heaven nor in Hell ! " 
 
 Levitt had by this time lighted a pipe, and was listening 
 with great composure to the frantic and vindictive ravings of 
 the old hag. He was too much hardened by his course of life 
 to be shocked with them ; too indifferent, and probably too 
 stupid, to catch any part of their animation or energy. ""But, 
 mother," he said, after a pause, "still I say, that if revenge is 
 your wish, you should take it on the young fellow himself." 
 
 " I wish I could," she said^ drawing in her breath, with 
 the eagerness of a thirsty person while mimicking the action 
 of drinking — "I wish I could ! but no, I cannot — I cannot." 
 
 " And why not ? You would think little of peaching and 
 hanging him for this Scotch affair. Eat me, one might have 
 milled the Bank of England, and less noise about it." 
 
 " I have nursed him at this withered breast," answered the 
 old woman, folding her hands on her bosom, as if pressing an 
 infant to it, " and though he has proved an adder to me, though 
 he has been the destruction of me and mine, though he has 
 made me company for the devil, if there be a devil, and food 
 for hell, if there be such a place, yet I cannot take his life. 
 No, I cannot," she continued, with an appearance of rage 
 against herself ; " I have thought of it, I have tried it, but, 
 Francis Levitt, I canna gang through wi^t ! Na, na, he was 
 the first bairn I ever nurst ; ill I had been — but man can never 
 ken what woman feels for the bairn she has held first to her 
 bosom ! " 
 
 " To be sure," said Levitt, " we have no experience. But, 
 mother, they say you hadn't been so kind to other bairns, as 
 you call them, that have come in your way. Nay, d — n me, 
 never lay your hand on the whittle, for I am captain and leader 
 here, and I will have no rebellion." 
 
 The hag, whose first motion had been, upon hearing the 
 question, to grasp the haft of a large knife, now unclosed her 
 hand, stole it away from the weapon, and suffered it to fall by 
 her side, while she proceeded with a sort of smile — "Bairns ! 
 ye are joking, lad, wha wad touch bairns ? Madge, puir thing, 
 
 had a misfortune wi' ane ; and the totlier " Here her voice 
 
 sunk so much that Jeanie, though anxiously upon the watch, 
 could not catch a word she said, until she raised her tone at 
 
298 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 the conclusion of the sentence — "So Madge, in her daffin', 
 threw it into the Nor' Loch, I trow." 
 
 Madge, whose slumbers, like those of most who labor under 
 mental malady, had been short, and were easily broken, now 
 made herself heard from her place of repose. 
 
 " Indeed, mother, that's a great lee, for I did nae sic thing. ^* 
 
 " Hush, thou hellicat devil," said her mother. " By 
 Heaven ! the other wench will be waking too ! " 
 
 " That may be dangerous," said Frank ; and he rose and 
 followed Meg Murdockson across the floor. 
 
 "Rise," said the hag to her daughter, " or I sail drive the 
 ■inife between the planks into the Bedlam back of thee ! " 
 
 Apparently she at the same time seconded her threat, by 
 pricking her with the point of a knife, for Madge, with a faint 
 !cream, changed her place, and the door opened. 
 
 Tiie old woman held a candle in one hand and a knife in 
 the other. Levitt appeared behind her ; whether with a view 
 of preventing or assisting her in any violence she might medi- 
 tate could not be well guessed. Jeanie's presence of mind 
 stood her friend in this dreadful crisis. She had resolution 
 enough to maintain the attitude and manner of one who sleeps 
 profoundly, and to regulate even her breathing, notwithstand- 
 ing the agitation of instant terror, so as to correspond with her 
 attitude. 
 
 Tiie old woman passed the light across her eyes ; and, al- 
 though Jeanie's fears were so powerfully awakened by this 
 movement, that she often declared afterwards that she thought 
 she saw the figures of her destined murderers through her 
 closed eyelids, she had still the resolution to maintain the feint 
 on wliicli her safety perhaps depended. 
 
 Levitt looked at her with fixed attention ; he then turned 
 the old woman out of the place, and followed her himself. 
 Having regained the outer apartment, and seated themselves, 
 Jeanie heard the highwayman say, to her no small relief, 
 " She's as fast as if she were in Bedfordshire. Now, old Meg, 
 d — n me if I can understand a glim of this story of yours, or 
 what good it will do you to hang the one wench and torment 
 the other ; but, rat me, I will be true to my friend, and serve 
 ye the way ye like it. I see it will be a bad job ; but I do think 
 I could get her down to Surfleet on the Wash, and so on board 
 Tom Moonshine's neat lugger, and keep her out of the way 
 three or four weeks, if that will please ye. But d — n me if any 
 one shall harm her, unless they have a mind to choke on a 
 brace of blue plums. It's a cruel bad job, and I wish yon and 
 it, Meg, were both at the devil." 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 297 
 
 " Kever mind, hinny Levitt/* said the old woman ; '' yon 
 are a ruffler, and will have a' your ain gate. She slianna gang 
 to Heaven an hour sooner for me ; I carena whether she live 
 or die : it's her sister — uy, her sister ! " 
 
 " Well, we'll say no more about it, I hear Tom coming in. 
 We'll couch a hogshead, and so better had you." 
 
 They retired to repose, accordingly, and all was silent in 
 this asylum of iniquity. 
 
 Jeanie lay for a long time awake. At break of day she 
 heard the two ruffians leave the barn, after whispering with the 
 old woman for some time. The sense that she was now guard- 
 ed only by persons of her own sex gave her some confidence, 
 and irresistible lassitude at length threw her into slumber. 
 
 When the captive awakened, the sun was high in heaven, 
 and the morning considerably advanced. Madge Wildfire was 
 still in the hovel which had served them for the night, and 
 immediately bid her good morning, with her nsnal air of in- 
 sane glee. " And d'ye ken, lass," said Madge, " there's queer 
 things chanced since ye hae been in the land of Nod. The con- 
 stables liae been here, woman, and they metwi' my minnieat 
 the door, and they whirl'd her awa' to the Justice's about the 
 man's wheat. Dear ! thae English churls think as muckle 
 about a blade of M^heat or grass as a Scots laird does about his 
 maukinsand his muir-poots. ISIow, lass, if ye like, we'll play 
 them a fine jink : we will awa' out and take a walk ; they will 
 make unco wark when they miss us, but we can easily be back 
 by dinner time, or before dark night at ony rate, and it will 
 be some frolic and fresh air. But maybe ye wad like to take 
 some breakfast, and then lie down again ? I ken by mysell 
 there's whiles I can sit wi' my head on my hand the haillday, 
 and havena a word to cast at a dog, and other whiles that 1 
 canna sit still a moment. That's when the folk think me 
 warst ; but I am aye canny eneugh — ye needna be feared to 
 walk wi' me." 
 
 Had Madge Wildfire been the most raging lunatic, instead 
 of possessing a doubtful, uncertain, and twilight sort of ration- 
 ality, varying, probably, from the influence of the most trivial 
 causes, Jeanie would hardly have objected to leave a place of 
 captivity where she had so much to apprehend. She eagerly 
 assured Madge that she had no occasion for further sleep, no 
 desire whatever for eating ; and hoping internally that she was 
 not guilty of sin in doing so, she flattered her keeper's crazy 
 humor for walking in the woods. 
 
 "It's no a'thegither for that neither,'* said poor Madge; 
 ''but I am judging ye will wan the better out o' thae folks' 
 
398 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 hands ; no that they are a'tliegither bad folk neither, but they 
 have queer ways wi' them, and I whiles dinna think it has been 
 ever very weel wi' my mother and me since we kept sic-like 
 company/' 
 
 With the haste, the joy, the fear, and the hope of a liber- 
 ated captive, Jeanie snatched up her little bundle, followed 
 Madge into the free air, and eagerly looked round her for a 
 human habitation ; but none was to be seen. The ground was 
 partly cultivated, and partly left in its natural state, accord- 
 ing as the fancy of the slovenly agriculturists had decided. 
 In its natural state it was waste, in some places covered with 
 dwarf trees and bushes, in others swamp, and elsewhere firm 
 and dry downs or pasture-grounds. 
 
 Jeanie's active mind next led her to conjecture which way 
 the high-road lay, whence she had been forced. If she regained 
 that public road, she imagined she must soon meet some per- 
 son, or arrive at some house, where she might tell her story, 
 and request protection. But after a glance around her, she 
 saw with regret that she had no means whatever of directing 
 her course with any degree of certainty, and that she was still 
 in dependence upon her crazy companion. " Shall we not 
 walk upon the high-road ?" said she to Madge, in such atone 
 as a nurse uses to coax a child. " It's brawer walking on the 
 road than amang thae wild bushes and whins." 
 
 Madge, who was walking very fast, stopped at this ques- 
 tion, and looked at Jeanie with a sudden and scrutinizing 
 glance, that seemed to indicate complete acquaintance with 
 her purpose. " Aha, lass ! " she exclaimed, " are ye gaun to 
 guide us that gate ? Ye'll be for making your heels save 
 your head, I am judging." 
 
 Jeanie hesitated for a moment, on hearing her companion 
 thus express herself, whether she had not better take the 
 hint, and try to outstrip and get rid of her. But she knew 
 not in which direction to fly ; she was by no means sure that 
 she would prove the swiftest, and perfectly conscious that, in 
 the event of her being pursued and overtaken, she would be 
 inferior to the madwoman in strength. She therefore gave 
 up thoughts for the present of attempting to escape in that 
 manner, and, saying a few words to allay Madge's suspicions, 
 she folloAved in anxious apprehension the wayward path by 
 which her guide thought proper to lead her. Madge, infirm 
 of purpose, and easily reconciled to the present scene, what- 
 ever it was, began soon to talk with her usual diffuseness of 
 ideas. 
 
 " It's a dainty thing to be in the woods on a fine morning 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 5599 
 
 like this. I like it far better than the town, for there isna a 
 wheen duddy bairns to be crying after ane, as if ane were a 
 warld's wonder, just because ane maybe is a thought bonnier 
 and better put-on than their neighbors ; tliough, Jeauie, ye 
 suld ne\er be proud o' braw claiths, or beauty neither ; wae's 
 me ! they're but a snare. I anes thought better o' them, and 
 what came o't ? " 
 
 "Are ye sure ye ken the way ye are taking us ?'' said 
 Jeanie, who began to imagine that she was getting deeper 
 into tbe woods, and more remote from the high-road. 
 
 "Do I ken the road ? Wasna I mony a day living here, 
 and what for shouldna I ken the road ? I might hae forgot- 
 ten, too, for it was afore my accident ; but tliere are some 
 things ane can never forget, let them try it asmuckle as they 
 like." 
 
 By this time they had gained the deepest part of a patch 
 of woodland. The trees were a little separated from each 
 other, and at the foot of one of them, a beautiful poplar, was 
 a variegated hillock of wild flowers and moss, such as the poet 
 of Grasmere has described in his verses on "The Thorn." So 
 soon as she arrived at this spot, Madge Wildfire, joining her 
 hands above her head, with a loud scream that resembled 
 laughter, flung herself all at once upon the spot, and re- 
 mained lying there motionless. 
 
 Jeanie's first idea was to take the opportunity of flight ; 
 but her desire to escape yielded for a moment to apprehension 
 for the poor insane being, who, she thought, might perish for 
 want of relief. With an effort which, in her circumstances, 
 might be termed heroic, she stooped down, spoke in a sooth- 
 ing tone, and endeavored to raise up the forlorn creature. 
 She effected this with difficulty, and, as she placed her against 
 the tree in a sitting posture, she observed with surprise that 
 her complexion, usually florid, was now deadly pale, and that 
 her face was bathed in tears. Notwithstanding her own ex- 
 treme danger, Jeanie was affected by the situation of her 
 companion ; and the rather that, through the whole train of her 
 wavering and inconsistent state of mind and line of conduct, 
 she discerned a general color of kindness towards herself, for 
 which she felt grateful. 
 
 "Let me alane ! — let me alane \" said the poor yonng 
 woman, as her paroxysm of sorrow began to abate. " Let me 
 alane ; it does me good to weep. I canna shed tears but 
 maybe anes or twice a year, and I aye come to wet this turf 
 with them, that the flowers may grow fair, and the grass may 
 be green." 
 
300 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 " But what is the matter with yoa ? " said Jeanie. " Why 
 do you weep so bitterly ? " 
 
 " There s matter enow," replied the lunatic ; " mair than 
 ae puir mind can bear. I trow. Stay a bit, and I'll tell you a' 
 about it ; for I like ye, Jeanie Deans ; a'body spoke weel about 
 ye when we lived in the Pleasaunts. And I mind aye the 
 drink o' milk ye gae me yon day, when I had been on Arthur's 
 Seat for four-and-twenty hours, looking for the ship that 
 somebody was sailing in." 
 
 These words recalled to Jeanie's recollection that, in fact, 
 she had been one morning much frightened by meeting a crazy 
 young woman near her father's house at an early hour, and 
 that, as she appeared to be harmless, her apprehension had 
 been changed into pity, and she had relieved the unhappy 
 wanderer with some food, which she devoured with the haste 
 of a famished person. The incident, trifling in itself, was at 
 present of great importance, if it should be found to have 
 made a favorable and permanent impression on the mind of 
 the object of her charity. 
 
 " Yes," said Madge, " I'll tell ye all about it, for ye are a 
 decent man's daughter — Douce Davie Deans, ye ken ; and 
 maybe ye'll can teach me to find out the narrow way and the 
 strait path ; for I have been burning bricks in Egypt, and 
 walkmg through the weary wilderness of Sinai, for lang and 
 mony a day. But whenever I think about mine errors, I am 
 like to cover my lips for shame." Here she looked up and 
 smiled. " It's a strange thing now — I hae spoke mair gude 
 words to you in ten minutes, than I wad speak to my mother 
 in as mony years. It's no that I dinna think on them, and 
 whiles they are just at my tongue's end ; but then comes the 
 devil and brushes my lips with his black wing, and lays his 
 broad black loof on my mouth — for a black loof it is, Jeanie 
 — and sweeps away a' my gude thoughts, and dits up my 
 gude words, and pits a wheen fule sangs and idle vanities in 
 their place." 
 
 " Try, Madge," said Jeanie — " try to settle your mind and 
 make your breast clean, and you'll find your heart easier. 
 Just resist the devil, and he will flee from you ; and mind that, 
 as my worthy father tells me, there is nae devil sae deceitfu' 
 as our ain wandering thoughts." 
 
 '' And that's true too, lass," said Madge, starting up ; 
 *'and I'll gang a gate where the devil daurna follow me ; and 
 it's a gate that yoa will like dearly to gang ; but I'll keep 
 a fast baud o' your arm, tor fear Apollyon should stride across 
 the path, as he did in th« Pilgrim's Progress." 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 301 
 
 Accordingly, she got up, and, taking Jeanie by the arm, 
 began to walk forward at a great pace ; and soon, to her com- 
 panion's no small joy, came into a marked path, with the 
 meanders of which she seemed perfectly acquainted. Jeanie 
 endeavored to bring her back to the confessional, but the 
 fancy was gone by. In fact, the mind of this deranged being 
 resembled nothing so much as a quantity of dry leaves, which 
 may for a few minutes remain still, but are instantly discom- 
 posed and put in motion by the first casual breath of air. 
 She had now got John Bunyan's parable into her head, to 
 the exclusion of everything else^ and on she went with great 
 volubility. 
 
 " Did ye never read the Pilgrim's Progress? And you 
 shall be the woman Christiana, and I will be the maiden 
 Mercy ; for ye ken Mercy was of the fairer countenance, and 
 the more alluring than her companion ; and if I had my lit- 
 tle messan dog here, it would be Great-Heart, their guide, ye 
 ken, for he was e'en as bauld that he v, ad bark at onything 
 twenty times his size ; and that was e'en the death of him, 
 for he bit Corporal MacAlpine's heels ae morning when they 
 were hauling me to the guard-house, and Corporal MacAlpine 
 killed the bit faithfu' thing wi' his Lochaber axe — deil pike 
 the Highland banes o' him ! " 
 
 " fie, Madge," said Jeanie, " ye should not speak such 
 words." 
 
 "It's very true," said Madge, shaking her head; "but 
 then I maunna think on my puir bit doggie, Snap, when I 
 saw it lying dying in the gutter. But it's just as weel, for 
 it suffered baitli cauld and hunger when it was living, and in 
 the grave there is rest for a' things — rest for the doggie, and 
 my puir bairn, and rae." 
 
 "Your bairn ?" said Jeanie, conceiving that by speaking 
 on such a topic, supposing it to be a real one, she could not 
 fail to bring her companion to a more composed temper. 
 
 She was mistaken, however, for Madge colored, and re- 
 plied with some anger, " My bairn ? ay, to be sure, my bairn. 
 What for shouldna I hae a bairn, and lose a bairn too, as weel 
 as your bonny tittie, the Lily of St. Leonard's ?" 
 
 The answer struck Jeanie with some alarm, and she was 
 anxious to soothe the irritation she had unwittingly given oc- 
 casion to. "I am very sorry for your misfortune " 
 
 " Sorry ! what wad ye be sorry for ? " answered Madge. 
 " The bairn was a blessing — that is, Jeanie, it Avad hae been 
 a blessing if it hadna been for my mother ; but my mother's 
 a queer woman. Ye see. there was an auld carle wi' a bit land. 
 
303 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 and a gade clat o* siller besides, just the very pictnre of old 
 Mr, Feeblemind or Mr. Ready-to-halt, that Great-Heart de- 
 livered from Slaygood the giant, when he was rifling him and 
 about to pick his bones, -for Slaygood was of the nature of the 
 flesh-eaters ; and Great-Heart killed Giant Despair too ; but 
 I am doubting Giant Despair's come alive again, for a' the 
 story-book ; I find him busy at my heart whiles/^ 
 
 " Weel, and so the auld carle " said Jeanie, for she was 
 
 painfully interested in getting to the truth of Madge's history, 
 which she could not but suspect was in some extraordinary 
 way linked and entwined with the fate of her sister. She was 
 also desirous, if possible, to engage her companion in some 
 narrative which might be carried on in a lower tone of voice, 
 for she was in great apprehension lest the elevated notes of 
 Madge's conversation should direct her mother or the robbeis 
 in search of them. 
 
 '^ And so the auld carle," said Madge, repeating her words- - 
 " I wish you had seen him stoiting about, aff ae leg on to the 
 other, wi' a kind o' dot-and-go-one sort o' motion, as if ilk 
 ane o' his twa legs had belonged to sindry folk. But Gentle 
 George could take him afE brawly. Eh, as I used to laugh to 
 see George gang hip-hop like him ! I dinna ken, I think I 
 laughed heartier then than what I do now, though maybe no 
 just sae muckle." 
 
 '' And who was Gentle George ? " said Jeanie, endeavor- 
 ing to bring her back to her story. 
 
 " 0, he was Geordie Robertson, ye ken, when he was in 
 Edinburgh ; but that's no his right name neither. His name 
 
 is But what is your business wi' his name ? " said she, as 
 
 if upon sudden recollection. " What have ye to do asking for 
 folks' names ? Have ye a mind I should scour my knife be- 
 tween your ribs, as my mother says ?" 
 
 As this was spoken with a menacing tone and gesture, 
 Jeanie hastened to protest her total innocence of purpose in 
 the accidental question which she had asked, and Madge Wild- 
 fire went on, somewhat pacified. 
 
 " Never ask folks' names, Jeanie : it's no civil. I hae seen 
 half a dozen o' folk in my mother's at anes, and ne'er ane o' 
 them ca'd the ither by his name ; and Daddie Ratton says it 
 is the most uncivil thing may be, because the bailie bodies 
 are aye asking fashions questions, when ye saw sic a man or 
 sic a man ; and if ye dinna ken their names, ye ken there can 
 be nae mair speer'd about it." 
 
 ** In what strange school," thought Jeanie to herself, " has 
 this poor creature been bred up, where such remote precautions 
 
THE HEABT OF MIDLOTHIAN 303 
 
 are taken against the pursuits of justice ? What would my 
 father or Keuben Butler think, if I were to tell them there 
 are sic folk in the world ? And to abuse the simplicity of 
 this demented creature ! 0, that I were but safe at hame 
 amang mine ain leal and true peoi3le ! and I'll bless God, while 
 I have breath, that placed me among those who live in His 
 fear, and under the shadow of His wing." 
 
 She was interrupted by the insane laugh of Madge Wild- 
 fire, as she saw a magpie hop across the path. 
 
 " See there ! that was the gate my old jo used to cross the 
 country, but no just sae lightly : he hadna wings to help his 
 auld legs, I trow ; but I behoved to have married him for a' 
 that, Jeanie, or my mother wad hae been the dead o' me. 
 But then came in the story of my poor bairn, and my mother 
 thought he wad be deaved wi' its skirling, and slie pat it away 
 in below the bit bourock of turf yonder, just to be out o' the 
 gate ; and I think she buried my best wits with it, for I have 
 never been just mysell since. And only think, Jeanie, after 
 my mother had been at a' this pains, the auld doited body 
 Johnny Drottle turned up his nose, and wadna hae aught to 
 say to me ! But it's little I care for him, for I have led a 
 merry life ever since, and ne'er a braw gentleman looks at me 
 but ye wad think he was gaun to drop off his horse for mere 
 love of me. I have kenn'd some o' them put their hand in 
 their pocket and gie me as muckle as sixpence at a time, just 
 for my weel-faur'd face." 
 
 This speech gave Jeanie a dark insight into Madge's his- 
 tory. She had been courted by a wealthy suitor, whose ad- 
 dresses her mother had favored, notwithstanding the objection 
 of old age and deformity. She had been seduced by some 
 profligate, and, to conceal her shame and promote the advan- 
 tageous match she had planned, her mother had not hesitated 
 to destroy the offspring of their intrigue. That the conse- 
 quence should be the total derangement of a mind which was 
 constitutionally unsettled by giddiness and vanity was extremely 
 natural ; and such was, in fact, the history of Madge Wildfire's 
 insanity. 
 
CHAPTER XXXI 
 
 So free from danger, free from fear, 
 
 They cross'd the court, right glad they were. 
 
 Christ ABEL. 
 
 Pursuing the path which Madge had chosen, Jeanie Deans 
 observed, to lier no small delight, that marks of more cultiva- 
 tion appeared, and the thatched roofs of houses, with their 
 blue smoke arising in little columns, Avere seen embosomed in a 
 tuft of trees at some distance. The track led in that direction, 
 and Jeanie therefore resolved, while Madge continued to pur- 
 sue it, that she would ask her no questions ; having had the 
 penetration to observe that by doing so she ran the risk of 
 irritating her guide, or awakening suspicions, to the impres- 
 sions of which persons in Madge's unsettled state of mind are 
 particularly liable. 
 
 Madge therefore, uninterrupted, went on with the wild 
 disjointed chat which her rambling imagination suggested ; a 
 mood in which she was much more communicative respecting 
 her own history and that of others than when there was any 
 attempt made, by direct queries or cross-examinations, to ex- 
 tract information on thes,> subjects. 
 
 ''It's a qaeer thing," she said, ''but whiles I can speak 
 about the bit bairn and the rest of it, just as if it had been 
 another body's and no my ain ; and whiles I am like to break 
 my heart about it. Had you ever a bairn, Jeanie ? " 
 
 Jeanie replied in the negative. 
 
 " Ay, but your sister had, though ; and I ken what came 
 o't too." 
 
 " In the name of Heavenly mercy," said Jeanie, forgetting 
 the line of conduct which she had hitherto adopted, "tell me 
 but what became of that unfortunate babe, and " 
 
 Madge stopped, looked at her gravely and fixedly, and 
 then broke into a great fit of laughing. " Aha, lass, catch 
 me if you can. I think it's easy to gar you trow onything. 
 How suld I ken onything o' your sister's wean ? Lasses suld 
 hae naething to do wi' weans till they are married ; and then 
 a* the gossips and cummers come in and feast as if it were the 
 blithest day in the warld. They say maidens' bairns are weel 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 305 
 
 guided. I wot that wasna true of your tittle's and mine ; 
 but these are sad tales to tell, I maun just sing a bit to 
 keep up my heart. It's a sang that Gentle George made on 
 me lang syne, when I went with him to Lockington wake, to 
 see him act upon a stage, in fine clothes, with the player folk. 
 He might have dune waur than married me that night as he 
 promised : ' Better wed over the mixen as over the moor,' as 
 they say in Yorkshire — he may gang farther and fare waur ; 
 but that's a' ane to the sang — 
 
 " I'm Madge of the country, I'm Madge of the town, 
 And I'm Madge of the lad I am blithest to own. 
 The Lady of Beever in dianaonds may shine. 
 But has not a heart half so lightsome as mine. 
 
 " I am Queen of the Wake, and I'm Lady of May, 
 And I lead the blithe ring round the May-pole to-day. 
 The wildfire that flashes so fair and so free 
 Was never so bright or so bonny as me. 
 
 I like that the best o' a' my sangs," continued the maniac, 
 *' because he made it. I am often singing it, and that's maybe 
 the reason folk ca' me Madge Wildfire. I aye answer to the 
 name, though it's no my ain, for what's the use of making a 
 fash?" 
 
 " But ye shouldna sing upon the Sabbath at least," said 
 Jeanie, who, amid all her distress and anxiety, could not help 
 being scandalized at the deportment of her companion, es- 
 pecially as they now approached near to the little village. 
 
 " Ay ! is this Sunday ? " said Madge. " My mother leads 
 sic a life, wi' turning night into day, that ane loses a' count 
 o' the days o' the week, and disna ken Sunday frae Saturday. 
 Besides, it's a' your Whiggery : in England folks sing when 
 they like. And then, ye ken, you are Christiana and I am 
 Mercy ; and ye ken, as they went on their way, they sang," 
 And she immediately raised one of John Buuyan's ditties : 
 
 " He that is down need fear no fall, 
 He that is low no pride ; 
 He that is humble ever shall 
 Have God to be his guide. 
 
 " Fulness to such a burthen is 
 That go on pilgrimage ; 
 Here little, and hereafter bliss, 
 Is best from age to age. 
 
 And do ye ken, Jeanie, I think there's much truth in that 
 book, the Pilgrim's Progress. The boy that sings that song 
 
306 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 was feeding his father's sheep in the Valley of Humiliation, 
 and Mr. Great-Heart says that he lived a merrier life, and 
 had more of the herb called heart's-ease in his bosom, than 
 they that wear silk and velvet like me, and are as bonny as I 
 am." 
 
 Jeanie Deans had never read the fanciful and delightful 
 parable to which Madge alluded. Bunyan was, indeed, a rigid 
 Calvinist, but then he was also a member of a Baptist congre- 
 gation, so that his works had no place on David Deans's shelf 
 of divinity. Madge, however, at some time of her life had 
 been well acquainted, as it appeared, with the most popular 
 of his performauces, which, indeed, rarely fails to make a 
 deep impression upon children and people of the lower rank. 
 ''I am sure,"' she continued, " I may weel say I am come 
 out of the City of Destruction, for my mother is Mrs. Bat's- 
 eyes, that dwells at Deadman's Corner ; and Frank Levitt 
 and Tyburu Tam, they may be likened to Mistrust and Guilt, 
 that came galloping up, and struck the poor pilgrim to the 
 ground with a great club, and stole a bag of silver, which was 
 most of his spending money, and so have they done to many, 
 and will do to more. But now we will gang to the Inter- 
 preter's house, for I ken a man that will play the Interpreter 
 right weel ; for he has eyes lifted up to heaven, the best of 
 books in his hand, the law of truth written on his lips, and 
 he stands as if he pleaded wi' men. if I had minded what 
 he had said to me, I had never been the castaway creature that 
 I am ! But it is all over now. But we'll knock at the gate^ 
 and then the keeper will admit Christiana, but Mercy will be 
 left out ; and then I'll stand at the door trembling and cry- 
 ing, and then Christiana — that's you, Jeanie — will intercede 
 for me ; and then Mercy — that's me, ye ken — will faint ; and 
 then the Interpreter — yes, the Interpreter, that's Mr. Staun- 
 ton liimself — will come out and take me — that's poor, lost, 
 demented me — by the hand, and give me a pomegranate, and 
 a piece of honeycomb, and a small bottle of spirits, to stay my 
 fainting ; and then the good times will come back again, and 
 we'll be the happiest folk you ever saw." 
 
 In the midst of the confused assemblage of ideas indicated 
 in this speech, Jeanie thought she saw a serious purpose on 
 the part of Madge to endeavor to obtain the pardon and 
 countenance of some one whom she had offended ; an attempt 
 the most likely of all others to bring them once more into con- 
 tact with law and legal protection. She therefore resolved to 
 be guided by her while she was in so hopeful a disposition, 
 and act for ner own safety according to circumstances. 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 307 
 
 They were now close by the village, one of those beautiful 
 scenes which are so often found in Merry Enghiiid, where the 
 cottages, instead of being built in two direct lines on each 
 side of a dusty high-road, stand in detached groups, inter- 
 spersed not only with large oaks and elms, but with fruit trees, 
 so many of which were at this time in flourish that the grove 
 seemed enamelled with their crimson and white blossoms. In 
 the centre of the hamlet stood the parish church and its little 
 Gothic tower, from which at present was heard the Sunday 
 chime of bells. 
 
 "We will wait here until the folk are a' in the church — 
 they ca' the kirk a church in England, Jeanie, be sure you 
 mind that — for if I was gaun forward amang them, a' the 
 gaitts o' boys and lasses wad be crying at Madge Wildfire's 
 tail, the little hellrakers ! and the beadle would be as hard 
 upon us as if it was our fault. I like their skirling as ill as 
 he does, I can tell him ; I'm sure I often wish there was a het 
 peat doun their throats when they set them up that gate." 
 
 Conscious of the disorderly appearance of her own dress 
 after the adventure of the preceding night, and of the gro- 
 tesque habit and demeanor of her guide,ancl sensible how im- 
 portant it was to secure an attentive and patient audience to 
 her strange story from some one who might have the means to 
 protect her, Jeanie readily acquiesced in Madge's proposal to rest 
 under the trees, by which they were still somewhat screened, 
 until the commencement of service should give them an op- 
 portunity of entering the hamlet without attracting a crowd 
 around them. She made the less opposition, that Madge had 
 intimated that this was not the village where her mother was 
 in custody, and that the two squires of the pad were absent in 
 a different direction. 
 
 She sat herself down, therefore, at the foot of an oak, and 
 by the assistance of a placid fountain which had been dammed 
 up for the use of the villagers, and which served her as a nat- 
 ural mirror, she began — no uncommon thing with a Scottish 
 maiden of her rank — to arrange her toilet in the open air, and 
 bring her dress, soiled and disordered as it was, into such order 
 as the place and circumstances admitted. 
 
 She soon perceived reason, however, to regret that she had 
 set about this task, however decent and necessary, in the pres- 
 ent time and society. Madge Wildfire, who, among other in- 
 dications of insanity, had a most overweening opinion of those 
 charms to which, in fact, she had owed her misery, and whose 
 mind, like a raft upon a lake, was agitated and driven about 
 at random bv each fresh impulse, no sooner beheld Jeanie be- 
 
308 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 gin to arrange her liair, place her bonnet in order, rnb the 
 dust from her shoes and clothes, adjust her neck-handkerchief 
 and mittens, and so forth, than with imitative zeal she began 
 to bedizen and trick herself out with shreds and remnants of 
 beggarly finery, which she took out of a little bundle, and 
 which, when disposed around her person, made her appear- 
 ance ten times more fantastic and apish than it had been be- 
 fore. 
 
 Jeanie groaned in spirit, but dared not interfere in a mat- 
 ter so delicate. Across the man's cap or riding-hat which she 
 wore, Madge placed a broken and soiled white feather, inter- 
 sected with one which had been shed from the train of a pea- 
 cock. To her dress, which was a kind of riding-habit, she 
 stitched, pinned, and otherwise secured a large furbelow of 
 artificial flowers, all crushed, wrinkled, and dirty, which had 
 first bedecked a lady of quality, then descended to her abigail, 
 and dazzled the inmates of the servants' hall. A tawdry 
 scarf of yellow silk, trimmed with tinsel and spangles, which 
 had seen as hard service and boasted as honorable a transmis- 
 sion, was next flung over one shoulder, and fell across her per- 
 son in the manner of a shoulder-belt, or baldrick. Madge 
 then stripped off the coarse ordinary shoes which she wore, 
 and replaced bhem by a pair of dirty satin ones, spangled and 
 embroidered to match the scarf, and furnished with very high 
 heels. She had cut a willow switch in her morning's walk, 
 almost as long as a boy's fishing-rod. This she set herself 
 seriously to peel, and when it was transformed into such a 
 wand as the Treasurer or High Steward bears on public occa- 
 sions, she told Jeanie that she thought they now looked de- 
 cent, as young women should do upon the Sunday morning, 
 and that, as the bells had done ringing, she was willing to 
 conduct her to the Interpreter's house. 
 
 Jeanie sighed heavily to think it should be her lot on the 
 Lord's day, and during kirk-time too, to parade the street of 
 an inhabited village with so very grotesque a comrade; but 
 necessity had no law, since, without a positive quarrel with the 
 madwoman, which, in the circumstances, would have been 
 very unadvisable, she could see no means of shaking herself 
 free of her society. 
 
 As for poor Madge, she was completely elated with personal 
 vanity, and the most perfect satisfaction concerning her own 
 dazzling dress and superior appearance. They entered the 
 hamlet without being observed, except by one old woman, who, 
 being nearly " high-gravel blind," was only conscious that 
 something very fine and glittering was passing by, and 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 809 
 
 dropped as deep a reverence to Madge as slie would have done 
 to a countess. This filled up the measure of Madge's self- 
 approbation. She minced, she ambled, she smiled, she sim- 
 pered, and waved Jeanie Deans forward with the condescen- 
 sion of a noble chaperon, who has undertaken the charge of a 
 country miss on her first journey to the capital. 
 
 Jeanie followed in patience, and with her eyes fixed on the 
 ground, that she might save herself the mortification of seeing 
 her companion's absurdities ; but she started when, ascending 
 two or three steps, she found herself in the churchyard, and 
 saw that Madge was making straight for the door of the 
 church. As Jeanie had no mind to enter the congregation 
 in such company, she walked aside from the pathway, and 
 said in a decided tone, " Madge, I will wait here till the church 
 comes out ; you may go in by yourself if you have a mind." 
 
 As she spoke these words, she was about to seat herself 
 upon one of the gravestones. 
 
 Madge was a little before Jeanie when she turned aside ; 
 but suddenly changing Jier course, she followed her with long 
 strides, and, with every feature inflamed with passion, over- 
 took and seized her by the arm. " Do ye think, ye ungrate- 
 fa' wretch, that I am gaun to let you sit doun upon my fa- 
 ther's grave ? The deil settle ye doun ! if ye dinna rise and 
 come into the Interpreter's house, that's the house of God, 
 wi' me, but I'll rive every dud aff your back ! " 
 
 She adapted the action to the phrase ; for with one clutch 
 she stripped Jeanie of her straw bonnet and a handful of her 
 hair to boot, and threw it up into an old yew-tree, where it 
 stuck fast. Jeanie's first impulse was to scream, but conceiv- 
 ing she might receive deadly harm before she could obtain the 
 assistance of any one, notwithstanding the vicinity of the 
 church, she thought it wiser to follow the madwoman into the 
 congregation, where she might find some means of escape from 
 her, or at least be secured against her violence. But when she 
 meekly intimated her consent to follow Madge, her guide's 
 uncertain brain had caught another train of ideas. She held 
 Jeanie fast with one hand, and with the other pointed to the 
 inscription on the gravestone, and commanded her to read it. 
 Jeanie obeyed, and read these words : 
 
 "This Monument was erected to the Memory of 
 Donald Murdockson of the Kino's xxvi., or Cam- 
 ERONiAN Regiment, a sincere Christian, a bravb 
 Soldier, and a faithful Servant, by his grateful 
 
 AND SORROWING MaSTEK, ROBERT STAUNTON." 
 
310 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 " It's very weel read, Jeanie ; it's just the very words,'* 
 said Madge, whose ire had now faded into deep melancholy, 
 and with a step which, to Jeanie's great joy, was uncommon- 
 ly quiet and mournful, she led her companion towards the door 
 of the church. 
 
 It was one of those old-fashioned Gothic parish churches 
 which are frequent in England, the most cleanly, decent, and 
 reverential places of worship that are, perhaps, anywhere to 
 be found in the Christian world. Yet, notwithstanding the 
 decent solemnity of its exterior, Jeanie was too faithful to the 
 directory of the Presbyterian Kirk to have entered a prelatic 
 place of worship, and would, upon any other occasion, have 
 thought that she beheld in the porch the venerable figure of 
 her father waving her back from the entrance, and pronoun- 
 cing in a solemn tone, " Cease, my child, to hear the instruc- 
 tion which causeth to err from the words of knowledge." 
 But in her present agitating and alarming situation, she 
 looked for safety to this forbidden place of assembly, as the 
 hunted animal will sometimes seek shelter from imminent 
 danger in the human habitation, or in other places of refuge 
 most alien to its nature and habits. Not even the sound of 
 the organ, and of one or two flutes which accompanied the 
 psalmody, prevented her from following her guide into the 
 chancel of the church. 
 
 No sooner had Madge put her foot upon the pavement, 
 and become sensible that she was the object of attention to 
 the spectators, than she resumed all the fantastic extravagance 
 of deportment which some transient touch of melancholy 
 had banished for an instant. She swam rather than walked 
 up the centre aisle, dragging Jeanie after her, whom she held 
 fast by the hand. She would, indeed, have fain slipped 
 aside into the pew nearest to the door, and left Madge to 
 ascend in her own manner and alone to the high j)laces of 
 the synagogue ; but this was impossible, without a degree of 
 violent resistance which seemed to her inconsistent with the 
 time and place, and she was accordingly led in captivity up the 
 whole length of the church by her grotesque conductress, who, 
 with half-shut eyes, a prim smile upon her lips, and a mincing 
 motion with her hands, which corresponded with the delicate 
 and affected pace at which she was pleased to move, seemed 
 to take the general stare of the congregation which such an 
 exhibition necessarily excited as a high compliment, and 
 which she returned by nods and half courtesies to individuals 
 among the audience whom she seemed to distinguish as ac- 
 quaintances. Her absurdity was enhanced in the eyes of 
 
THE HEART OF MlDLOTHIAli 8!? 
 
 the spectators by the strange contrast which she formed to 
 her companion, who, with dishevelled hair, downcast eyes, 
 and a face glowing with shame, was dragged, as it were, in 
 triumph after her. 
 
 Madge's airs were at length fortunately cut short by her 
 encountering in her progress the looks of the clergyman, who 
 fixed upon her a glance at once steady, compassionate, and 
 admonitory. She hastily opened an empty pew which hap- 
 pened to be near her, and entered, dragging in Jeanie after 
 her. Kicking Jeanie on the shins by way of hint that she 
 should follow her example, she sunk her head upon her hand 
 for the space of a minute. Jeanie, to whom this posture of 
 mental devotion was entirely new, did not attempt to do the 
 like, but looked round her with a bewildered stare, which 
 her neighbors, judging from the company in which they saw 
 her, very naturally "ascribed to insanity. Every person in their 
 immediate vicinity drew back from this extraordinary couple 
 as far as the limits of their pew permitted ; but one old man 
 could not get beyond Madge's reach ere she had snatched the 
 prayer-book from his hand and ascertained the lesson of the 
 day. She then turned up the ritual, and, with the most over- 
 strained enthusiasm of gesture and manner, showed Jeanie 
 the passages as they were read in the service, making, at the 
 same time, her own responses so loud as to be heard above 
 those of every other person. 
 
 Notwithstanding the shame and vexation which Jeanie felt 
 in being tlius exposed in a place of worship, she could not and 
 durst not omit rallying her spirits so as to look around her 
 and consider to whom she ought to appeal for protection so 
 soon as the service should be concluded. Her first ideas natu- 
 rally fixed upon the clergyman, and she was confirmed in the 
 resolution by observing that he was an aged gentleman, of a 
 dignified appearance and deportment, who read the service 
 with an undisturbed and decent gravity, which brought back 
 to becoming attention those younger members of the congre- 
 gation who had been disturbed by the extravagant behavior 
 of Madge Wildfire. To the clergyman, therefore, Jeanie re- 
 solved to make her appeal when the service was over. 
 
 It is true, she felt disposed to be shocked at his surplice, 
 of which she had heard so much, but which she had never 
 seen upon the person of a preacher of the Word. Then she 
 was confused by the change of posture adopted in different 
 parts of the ritual, the more so as Madge Wildfire, to whom 
 they seemed familiar, took the opportunity to exercise author- 
 ity over her, pulling her up and pushing her down with a 
 
312 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 bustling assiduity whicli Jeanie felt must make them both, 
 the objects of painful attention. But, notwithstanding these 
 prejudices, it was her prudent resolution, in this dilemma, to 
 imitate as nearly as she could what was done around her. 
 ''The prophet," she thought, 'permitted Naaman the Syrian 
 to bow even in the house of Rimmon. Surely if I, in this 
 streight, worship the God of my fathers in mine own lan- 
 guage, although the manner thereof be strange tome, the Lord 
 will pardon me in this thing. ^' 
 
 In this resolution she became so much confirmed that, 
 withdrawing herself from Madge as far as the pew permitted, 
 she endeavored to evince, by serious aud undeviating attention 
 to what was passing, that her mind was composed to devotion. 
 Hertorraeutor would not long have permitted her to remain 
 quiet, but fatigue overpowered her, and she fell fast asleep in 
 the other corner of the pew. 
 
 Jeanie, though her mind in her own despite sometimes re- 
 verted to her situation, compelled herself to give attention to 
 a sensible, energetic, and well-composed discourse upon the 
 practical doctrines of Christianity, which she could not help 
 approving, although it was every word written down and read 
 by the preacher, and although it was delivered in a tone and 
 gesture very different from those of Boanerges Stormheaven, 
 who was her father's favorite preacher. The serious and 
 placid attention with which Jeanie listened did not escape the 
 clergyman. Madge Wildfire's entrance had rendered him ap- 
 prehensive of some disturbance, to provide against which, as 
 far as possible, he often turned his eyes to the part of the 
 church where Jeanie and she were placed, and became soon 
 aware that, although the loss of her head-gear and the awk- 
 wardness of her situation had given an uncommon and 
 anxious air to the features of the former, yet she was in a 
 state of mind very different from that of her companion. 
 When he dismissed the congregation, he observed her look 
 around with a wild and terrified look, as if uncertain what 
 course she ought to adopt, and noticed that she approached 
 one or two of the most decent of the congregation, as if to 
 address them, and then shrunk back timidly, on observing 
 that they seemed to shun and to avoid her. The clergyman 
 was satisfied there must be something extraordinary in all 
 tills, and as a benevolent man, as well as a good Christian 
 pastor, he resolved to inquire into the matter more minutely. 
 
CHAPTER XXXII 
 
 There govern'd in that year 
 A stern, stout churl — an angry overseer. 
 
 Crabbe. 
 
 While Mr. Stannton, for such was this worthy clergyman's 
 name, was laying aside his gown in the vestr}^ Jeanie was in 
 the act of coming to an open rupture with Madge. 
 
 *' We mustreturn to Mummer's barn directly/' said Madge; 
 " we'll be ower late, and my mother will be angry." 
 
 "1 am not going buck with you, Madge," said Jeanie, tak- 
 ing out a guinea and offering it to her ; " I am much obliged to 
 you, but I maun gang my ain road." 
 
 " And me coming a' this way out o' my gate to pleasure 
 yon, ye ungratefu' cutty," answered Madge ; '' and me to be 
 brained by my mother when I gang hame, and a' for your sake ! 
 But I will gar ye as good " 
 
 " For God's sake," said Jeanie to a man who stood beside 
 them, " keep her oif ; she is mad ! " 
 
 " Ey, ey," answered the boor ; "^ I hae some guess of that, 
 and I trow thou be'st a bird of the same feather. Howsom- 
 ever, Madge, I red thee keep hand off her^ or I'se lend thee a 
 whisterpoop." 
 
 Several of the lower class of the parishioners now gathered 
 round the strangers, and the cry arose among the boys that 
 " there was a-going to be a lite between mad Madge Murdock- 
 son and another Bess of Bedlam." But while the fry assembled 
 with the humane hope of seeing as much of the fun as possi- 
 ble, the laced cocked hat of the beadle was discerned among 
 the multitude, and all made way for that person of awful au- 
 thority. His first address was to Madge. 
 
 " What's brought thee back again, thou silly donnot, to 
 plague this parish ? Hast thou brought ony more bastards wi* 
 thee to lay to honest men's doors ? or does thou think to bur- 
 den us with this goose, that's as gare-brained as thysell, as if 
 rates were no up enow ? Away wi' thee to thy thief of a 
 mother ; she's fast in the stocks at Barkston town-end. Away 
 7f'\' ye out o' the parish, or I'se be at ye with the rattan/* 
 
314 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 Madge stood snlky for a minute ; but she had been too often 
 taught submission to the beadle's authority by ungentle means 
 to feel courage enough to dispute it. 
 
 " And my mother — my puir auld mother, is in the stocks at 
 Barkston ! This is a' your wyte. Miss Jeanie Deans ; but I'll 
 be upsides wi' you, as sure as my name's Madge Wildfire — I 
 mean Murdockson. God help me, I forget my very name in 
 this confused waste ! " 
 
 So saying, she turned upon her heel and went off, followed 
 by all the mischievous imps of the village, some crying, 
 *' Madge, canst thou tell thy name yet?" some pulling the 
 skirts of her dress, and all, to the best of their strength and 
 ingenuity, exercising some new device or otherto exasperate 
 her into frenzy. 
 
 Jeanie saw her departure with infinite delight, though she 
 wished that, in some Avay or other, she could have requited the 
 service Madge had conferred upon her. 
 
 In the meantime, ^le applied to the beadle to know whether 
 *' there was any house in the village where she could be civilly 
 entertained for her money, and whether she coald be permitted 
 to speak to the clergyman ?" 
 
 " Ay, ay, we'se ha' reverend care on thee ; and I think," 
 answered the man of constituted authority, "that, unless thou 
 answer the Rector all the better, we'se spare thy money, and 
 gie thee lodging at the parish charge, young woman." 
 
 " Where am I to go, then ?" said Jeanie, in some alarm. 
 
 '' Why, I am to take thee to his Eeverence, in the first place, 
 to gie an account o' thysell, and to see thou comena to be a 
 burden upon the parish." 
 
 " I do not wish to burden any one," replied Jeanie ; " I have 
 enough for my own wants, and only wish to get on my journey 
 safely." 
 
 " Why, that's another matter," replied the beadle, " an if 
 it be true ; and I think thou dost not look so pollrumptious 
 as thy playfellow yonder. Thou wouldst be a mettle lass enow, 
 an thou wert snog and snod a bit better. Come thou away, 
 then; the Rector is a good man." 
 
 "Is that the minister," said Jeanie, "who preached " 
 
 " The minister ! Lord help thee ! What kind o' Presby- 
 terian art thou ? Why, 'tis the Rector — the Rector's sell, 
 woman, and there isna the like o' him in the county, nor the 
 four next to it. Come away — away with thee ; we munna 
 bide here." 
 
 " I am sure I am very willing to go to see the minister," 
 said Jeanie ; " for, though he read his discourse, and wore that 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 315 
 
 Surplice, as they call it here, 1 cannot but think he must be a 
 very worthy God-fearing man, to jDreach the root of the mat- 
 ter in the way he did." 
 
 The disappointed rabble, finding that there was like to 
 be no further sport, had by this time dispersed, and Jeanie, 
 with her usual patience, followed her consequential and surly, 
 but not brutal, conductor towards the rectory. 
 
 This clerical mansion was large and commodious, for the 
 living was an excellent one, and the advowson belonged to a 
 very wealthy family in the neighborhood, who had usually 
 bred up a son or nephew to the church, for the sake of in- 
 ducting him, as opportunity offered, into this very comforta- 
 ble provision. In this manner the i-ectory of Willingham had 
 always been considered as a direct and immediate appanage of 
 Willingham Hall ; and as the rich baronets to whom the lat- 
 ter belonged had usually a son, or brother, or nephew, settled 
 in the living, the utmost care had been taken to render their 
 habitation not merely respectable and commodious, but even 
 dignified and imposing. 
 
 It was situated about four hundred yards from the village, 
 and on a^ rising ground which sloped gently upward, covered 
 with small enclosures, or closes, laid out irregularly, so that 
 the old oaks and elms, which were planted in hedge-rows, fell 
 into perspective, and were blended together in beautiful ir- 
 regularity. When they approached nearer to the house, a 
 handsome gateway admitted them into a lawn, of narrow 
 dimensions, indeed, but which was interspersed with large 
 sweet-chestnut trees and beeches, and kept in handsome order. 
 The front of the house was irregular. Part of it seemed very 
 old, and had, in fact, been the resident of the incumbent in 
 Eomish times. Successive occupants had made considerable 
 additions and improvements, each in the taste of his own age, 
 and without much regard to symmetry. But these incongrui- 
 ties of architecture were so graduated and happily mingled, that 
 the eye, far from being displeased with the combinations of 
 various styles, saw nothing but what was interesting in the 
 varied and intricate pile which they exhibited. Fruit trees 
 displayed on the southern wall, outer staircases, various places 
 of entrance, a combination of roofs and chimneys of different 
 ages, united to render the front, not indeed beautiful or grand, 
 but intricate, perplexed, or, to use Mr. Price's appropriate 
 phrase, picturesque. The most considerable addition was 
 that of the present Sector, who, " being a bookish man, " as 
 the beadle was at the pains to inform Jeanie, to augment, 
 perhaps, her reverence for the person before whom she ^a«" 
 
316 WAV^RLEY NOVELS 
 
 to appear, had built a handsome library and parlor, and no 
 less than two additional bedrooms. 
 
 " Mony men would hae scruj)led such expense," continued 
 the parochial officer, " seeing as the living mun go as it pleases 
 Sir Edmund to will it ; but his Eeverence has a canny bit land 
 of his own, and need not look on two sides of a penny." 
 
 Jeanie could not help comparing the irregular yet exten- 
 sive and commodious pile of building before her to the 
 ** manses " in her own country, where a set of penurious her- 
 itors, professing all the while the devotion of their lives and 
 fortunes to the Presbyterian establishment, strain their in- 
 ventions to discover what may be nipped, and clipped, and 
 pared from a building which forms but a poor accommodation 
 even for the present incumbent, and, despite the superior 
 advantage of stone masonry, must, in the course of forty or 
 fifty years, again burden their descendants with an expense 
 which, once liberally and handsomely employed, ought to 
 have freed their estates from a recurrence of it for more than 
 a century at least. 
 
 Behind the Rector's house the ground sloped down to a 
 small river, which, without possessing the romantic vivacity 
 and rapidity of a northern stream, was, nevertheless, by its 
 occasional appearance through the ranges of willows and pop- 
 lars that crowned its banks, a very pleasing accompaniment 
 to the landscape. "It was the best trouting stream," said the 
 beadle, whom the patience of Jeanie, and especially the assur- 
 ance that she was not about to become a burden to the par- 
 ish, had rendered rather communicative — " the best trouting 
 stream in all Lincolnshire ; for when you got lower there was 
 nought to be done wi' fly-fishing." 
 
 Turning aside from the principal entrance, he conducted 
 Jeanie towards a sort of portal connected with the older part 
 of the building, which was chiefly occupied by servants, and 
 knocking at the door, it was opened by a servant in grave j^ur- 
 ple livery, such as befitted a wealthy and dignified clergyman. 
 
 " How dost do, Tummas ? " said the beadle ; '' and hov>'^s 
 young Measter Staunton ?" 
 
 " Why, but poorly — but poorly, Measter Stubbs. Are 
 you wanting to see his Reverence ? " 
 
 "Ay, ay, Tummas ; please to say I ha' brought up the 
 young woman as came to service to-day with mad Madge 
 Murdockson ; she seems to be a decentish koind o' body ; 
 but I ha' asked her never a question. Only I can tell his 
 Reverence that she is a Scotchwoman, I judge, and as flat as 
 the fens of Holland." 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 317 
 
 Tummas honored Jeanie Deans with such a stare as the 
 I>ampered domestics of the rich, whether spiriuial or tem- 
 poral, usually esteem it part of their privilege to bestow upon 
 the poor, and then desired Mr, Stubbs and his charge to step 
 in till he informed his master of their presence. 
 
 The room into which he showed them was a sort of stew- 
 ard's parlor, hung with a county map or two, and three or 
 four prints of eminent persons connected with the county, as 
 Sir William Monson, James York the blacksmith of Lincoln,* 
 and the famous Peregrine, Lord Willoughby, in complete 
 armor, looking as when he said, in the words of the legend 
 below the engraving — 
 
 " Stand to it, noble pikemen, 
 
 And face ye well about : 
 And shoot ye sharp, bold bowmen, 
 
 And we will keep them out. 
 Ye musquet and calliver-men. 
 
 Do you prove true to me, 
 I'll be the foremost man in fight. 
 
 Said brave Lord Willoughbee," 
 
 When they had entered this apartment, Tummas as a mat- 
 ter of course offered, and as a matter of course Mr, Stubbs ac- 
 cepted, a "summat" to eat and drink, being the respectable 
 relics of a gammon of bacon, and a whole whiskin, or black- 
 pot, of sufficient double ale. To these eatables Mr. Beadle se- 
 riously inclined himself, and (for we must do him justice) not 
 without an invitation to Jeanie, in which Tummas joined, that 
 his prisoner or charge would follow his good example. But 
 although she might have stood in need of refreshment, con- 
 sidering she had tasted no food that day, the anxiety of the 
 moment, her own sparing and abstemious habits, and a bash- 
 ful aversion to eat in company of the two strangers, induced 
 her to decline their courtesy. So she sat in a chair apart, 
 while Mr. Stubbs and Mr. Tummas, who had chosen to join 
 his friend in consideration that dinner was to be put back till 
 the afternoon service was over, made a hearty luncheon, which 
 lasted for half an hour, and might not then have concluded, 
 had not his Eeverence rung his bell, so that Tummas was 
 obliged to attend his master. Then, and no sooner, to save 
 himself the labor of a second journey to the other end of the 
 house, he announced to his master the arrival of Mr. Stubbs, 
 with the other madwoman, as he chose to designate Jeanie, 
 as an event which had just taken place. He returned with an 
 
 ♦Author of the Union of Honor, & tre&tise on English Heraldry, London, 1641 
 iLaing). 
 
318 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 order that Mr. Stubbs and the young woman should be instantly 
 ushered up to tlie library. 
 
 The beadle bolted in baste his last mouthful of fat bacon, 
 washed down the greasy morsel with the last rinsings of the 
 pot of ale, and immediately marshalled Jeanie through one 
 or two intricate passages, which led from the ancient to 
 the more modern buildings, into a handsome little hall, or 
 ante-room, adjoining to the library, and out of which a glass 
 door opened to the lawn. 
 
 "Stay here," said Stubbs, "till I tell his Keverence you 
 are come." 
 
 So saying, he opened a door and entered the library. 
 
 Without wishing to hear their conversation, Jeanie, as 
 she was circumstanced, could not avoid it ; for as Stubbs 
 stood by the door, and his Reverence was at the upper end of 
 a large room, their conversation was necessarily audible in 
 the ante-room. 
 
 " So you have brought the young woman here at last, Mr. 
 Stubbs. I expected you some time since. You know I do 
 not wish such persons to remain in custody a moment without 
 some inquiry into their situation." 
 
 " Very true, your Reverence," replied the beadle; "but 
 the young woman had eat nought to-day, and soa Measter 
 Tummas did set down a drap of drink and a morsel, to be 
 sure." 
 
 " Thomas was very right, Mr. Stubbs ; and what has be- 
 come of the other most unfortunate being ? " 
 
 " Why," replied Mr. Stubbs, "I did think the sight on 
 her would but vex your Reverence, and soa I did let her go 
 her ways back to her mother, who is in trouble in the next 
 parish." 
 
 " In trouble ! that signifies in prison, I suppose ? " said 
 Mr. Staunton. 
 
 " Ay, truly ; something like it, an it like your Reverence.'* 
 
 " Wretched, unhaj)py, incorrigible woman ! " said the 
 clergyman. " And what sort of person is this companion of 
 hers ? " 
 
 " Why, decent enow, an it like your Reverence," said 
 Stubbs; "for aught I sees of her, there's no harm of her, 
 and she says she has cash enow to carry her out of the 
 county." 
 
 " Cash ! that is always what you think of, Stubbs. But 
 has she sense ? — has she her wits ? — has she the capacity of 
 taking care of herself ? " 
 
 "Why, your Reverence," replied Stubbs, "I cannot just 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 319 
 
 say : I will be sworn she was not born at Witt-ham ;* for 
 Gaffer Gibbs looked at her all the time of service, and he says 
 she could not turn up a single lesson like a Christian, even 
 though she had Madge Murdockson to help her ; but then, 
 as to fending for hersell, why, she's a bit of a Scotchwoman, 
 you]- Keverence, and they say the worst donnot of them can 
 look out for their own turn ; and she is decently put on enow, 
 and not bechounched like t'other," 
 
 " Send her in here, then, and do you remain below, Mr. 
 Stubbs." 
 
 This colloquy had engaged Jeanie's attention so deeply that 
 it was not until it was over that she observed that the sashed 
 door, Avhich, we have said, led from the ante-room into the 
 garden, was opened, and that there entered, or rather was 
 borne in by two assistants, a young man of a very pale and 
 sickly appearance, whom they lifted to the nearest couch, and 
 placed there, as if to recover from the fatigue of an unusual 
 exertion. Just as they were making this arrangement, Stubbs 
 came out of the library and summoned Jeanie to enter it. She 
 obeyed him, not without tremor ; for, besides the novelty of 
 the situation to a girl of her secluded habits, she felt also as if 
 the successful prosecution of her journey was to depend upon 
 the impression she should be able to make on Mr. Staunton. 
 
 It is true, it was difficult to suppose on what pretext a person 
 travelling on her own business, and at her own charge, could 
 be interrupted upon her route. But the violent detention she 
 had already undergone was sufficient to show that there existed 
 persons at no great distance who had the interest, the inclina- 
 tion, and the audacity forcibly to stop her journey, and she 
 felt the necessity of having some countenance and protection, 
 at least till she should get beyond their reach. While these 
 things passed through her mind, much faster than our pen and 
 ink can record, or even the reader's eye collect the meaning 
 of its traces, Jeanie found herself in a handsome library, and 
 in presence of the Rector of Willingham. The well-furnished 
 presses and shelves which surrounded the large and handsome 
 apartment contained more books than Jeanie imagined existed 
 in the world, being accustomed to consider as an extensive collec- 
 tion two fir shelves, each about three feet long, which contained 
 her father's treasured volumes, the whole jiith and marrow, as 
 he used sometimes to boast, of modern divinity. An orrery, 
 globes, a telescope, and some other scientific implements con- 
 veyed to Jeanie an impression of admiration and wonder, not 
 
 * A proverbial and punmng expression in that county, to intimate that a person 
 ia not very clever. 
 
330 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 nnmixed with fear ; for, in her ignorant apprehension, they 
 seemed rather adapted for magical purposes than any other ; 
 and a few stuffed animals (as the Rector was fond of natural 
 history) added to the impressive character of the apartment. 
 
 Mr. Staunton spoke to her with great mildness. He ob- 
 served that, although her appearance at church had been 
 uncommon, and in strange, and, he must add, discreditable so- 
 ciety, and calculated, upon the whole, to disturb the congre- 
 gation during divine worship, he wished, nevertheless, to hear 
 her own account of herself before taking any steps which his 
 duty might seem to demand. He was a justice of peace, he 
 informed her, as well as a clergyman, 
 
 "His honor [for she would not say his reverence] was very 
 civil and kind," was all that poor Jeanie could at tlrst bring 
 out. 
 
 "Who are you, young woman?" said the clergyman, 
 more peremptorily, '''and what do you do in this country, and 
 in such coaipany ? We allow no strollers or vagrants here.^' 
 
 "I am not a vagrant or a stroller, sir," said Jeanie, a lit- 
 tle roused by the supposition. "I am a decent Scotch lass, 
 travelling through the land on my own business and my own 
 expenses ; and I was so unhappy as to fall in with bad com- 
 pany, and was stopped a' night on my journey. And this 
 puir creature, who is something light-headed, let me out in 
 the morning." 
 
 "Bad company!" said the clergyman. "I am afraid, 
 young woman, you have not been sufficiently anxious to avoid 
 them." 
 
 "Indeed, sir," returned Jeanie, "I have been brought up 
 to shun evil communication. But these wicked people were 
 thieves, and stopped me by violence and mastery." 
 
 "Thieves!" said Mr. Staunton; " then you charge them 
 with robbery, I suppose ?" 
 
 " No, sir ; they did not take so much as a boddle from me," 
 answered Jeanie ; "nor did they use me ill, otherwise than 
 by confining me." 
 
 The clergyman inquired into the particulars of her adven- 
 ture, which she told him from point to point. 
 
 " This is an extraordinary, and not a very probable, tale, 
 young woman," resumed Mr. Staunton. "Here has been, 
 according to your account, a great violence committed with- 
 out any adequate motive. Are you aware of the law of this 
 country— that if you lodge this charge you will be bound over 
 to prosecute this gang ? " 
 
 Jeanie did not understand him, and he explained that the 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 821 
 
 English law, in addition to the inconvenience sustained by 
 persons who have been robbed or injured, has the goodness to 
 intrust to them the care and the expense of appearing as prose- 
 cutors. 
 
 Jeanie said, "that her business at London was express ; 
 all she wanted was, that any gentleman would, out of Chris- 
 tian charity, protect her to some town where she could hire 
 horses and a guide ; and, finally," she thought, " it would be 
 her father's mind that she was not free to give testimony in 
 an English court of justice, as the land was not under a direct 
 Gospel dispensation." 
 
 Mr. Staunton stared a little, and asked if her father was a 
 Quaker. 
 
 ''God forbid, sir," said Jeanie. ^'He is nae schismatic 
 nor sectary, nor ever treated for sic black commodities as 
 theirs, and that's weel kenn'd o' him." 
 
 "And what is his name, pray ?" said Mr. Staunton. 
 
 " David Deans, sir, the cow-feeder at St. Leonard's Craigs, 
 near Edinburgh." 
 
 A deep groan from the ante-room prevented the Eectoi 
 from replying, and, exclaiming. "Good God ! that unhappy 
 boy ! " he left Jeanie alone, and hastened into the outer apart- 
 ment. 
 
 Some noise and bustle was heard, but no one entered the 
 library for the best part of an hour. 
 
CHAPTER XXXIII 
 
 Fantastic passions' maddening brawl ! 
 And shame and terror over all ! 
 Deeds to be hid which were not hid, 
 Which, all confused, I covild not know 
 Whether I suffer 'd or I did, 
 For all seem'd guilt, remorse, or woe ; 
 My own, or others, still the same 
 Life-stifling fear, soul-stifling shame. 
 
 Coleridge. 
 
 DuHiNG tlie interval while she was thus left alone, Jeanie 
 anxiously revolved in her mind what course Avas best for her 
 to pursue. She was impatient to continue her journey, yet 
 she feared she could not safely adventure to do so while the 
 old hag and her assistants were in the neighborhood, witliout 
 risking a repetition of their violence. She thought she could 
 collect from the conversation which she had partly overheard, 
 and also from the wild confessions of Madge Wildfire, that 
 her mother had a deep and revengeful motive for obstructing 
 her journey if possible. And from whom could she hope for 
 assistance if not from Mr. Staunton ? His whole appear- 
 ance and demeanor seemed to encourage her hopes. His 
 features were handsome, though marked with a deep cast of 
 melancholy ; his tone and language were gentle and encour- 
 aging ; and, as he had served in the army for several years 
 during his youth, his air retained that easy frankness which 
 is peculiar to the profession of arms. He wa s, besides, a min- 
 ister of the Gospel ; and although a worshipper, according to 
 Jeanie's notions, in the court of the Gentiles, and so be- 
 nighted as to wear a surplice ; although he read the Common 
 Prayer, and wrote down every word of his sermon before de- 
 livering it ; and although he was, moreover, in strength of 
 lungs, as well as pith and marrow of doctrine, vastly inferior 
 to Boanerges Stormheaven, Jeanie still thouglit he must be a 
 very different person from Curate Kiltstoup and other pre- 
 latical divines of her father's earlier days, who used to get 
 drunk in their canonical dress, and hound out the dragoons 
 against the wandering Cameronians. The house seemed to 
 be iu some disturbance, but as she could not suppose she was 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 338 
 
 altogether forgotten, she thought it better to remain qniet in 
 the apartment where she had been left till some one should 
 take notice of her. 
 
 The first who entered was, to her no small delight, one of 
 her own sex, a motherly-looking aged person of a housekeeper. 
 To her Jeanie explained her situation in a few words, and 
 begged her assistance. 
 
 The dignity of a housekeeper did not encourage toomnch 
 familiarity Avdth a person who was at the rectory on justice bus- 
 iness, and whose character might seem in her eyes somewhat 
 precarious ; but she was civil, although distant. 
 
 " Her young master,'^ she said, " had had a bad accident by 
 a fall from his horse, which made him liable to faintingfits ; 
 he had been taken very ill just now, and it was impossible his 
 Eeverence could see Jeanie for some time ; but that she need 
 not fear his doing all that was just and proper in her behalf 
 the instant he could get her business attended to." She con- 
 cluded by offering to show Jeanie a room, where she might 
 remain till his Eeverence was at leisure. 
 
 Our heroine took the opportunity to request the means of 
 adjusting and changing her dress. 
 
 The housekeeper, in whose estimation order and cleanli- 
 ness rankedjhigh among personal virtues, gladly complied with 
 a request so reasonable ; and the change of dress which Jean- 
 ie's bundle furnished made so important an improvement in 
 her appearance, that the old lady hardly knew the soiled and 
 disordered traveller, whose attire showed the violence she had 
 sustained, in the neat, clean, quiet-looking little Scotchwoman 
 who now stood before her. Encouraged by such a favorable 
 alteration in her appearance, Mrs. Dalton ventured to invite 
 Jeanie to partake of her dinner, and was equally j)leased with 
 the decent propriety of her conduct during that meal. 
 
 " Thou canst read this book, canst thou, young woman ?" 
 said the old lady, when their meal was concluded, laying her 
 hand upon a large Bible. 
 
 " I hope sae, madam," said Jeanie, surprised at the ques- 
 tion ; "my father wad hae wanted mony a thing ere I had 
 wanted tJuit schuling." 
 
 " The better sign of him, young woman. There are men 
 here, well-to-pass in the world, would not want their share of 
 a Leicester plover, and that's a bag-pudding, if fasting for 
 three hours would make all their poor children read the Bible 
 from end to end. Take thou the book, then, for my eyes are 
 something dazed, and read where thou listest : it's the only 
 book thou canst not happen wrong in." 
 
324 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 Jeanie was at first tempted to turn up the parable of the 
 good Samaritan, but her conscience checked her, as if it were 
 a use of Scripture not for her own edification, but to work 
 upon the mind of others for the relief of her worldly afflictions ; 
 and under this scrupulous sense of duty she selected, in pref- 
 erence, a chapter of the prophet Isaiah, and read it, notwith- 
 standing her northern accent and tone, with a devout propriety 
 which greatly edified Mrs. Dalton. 
 
 " Ah," she said, " an all Scotchwomen were sic as thou ! 
 But it was our luck to get born devils of thy country, I think, 
 every one worse than t'other. If thou knowest of any tidy 
 lass like thysell, that wanted a place, and could bring a good 
 character, and would not go laiking about to wakes and fairs, 
 and wore shoes and stockings all the day round — why, I'll not 
 say but we might find room for her at the rectory. Hast no 
 cousin or sister, lass, that such an offer would suit ? " 
 
 This was touching upon a sore point, but Jeanie was spared 
 the pain of replying by the entrance of the same man-servant 
 she had seen before. 
 
 " Measter wishes to see the young woman from Scotland," 
 was Tummas's address. 
 
 " Gro to his Eeverence, my dear, as fast as you can, and 
 tell him all your story ; his Reverence is a kind man," said 
 Mrs. Dalton. " I will fold down the leaf, and make you a 
 cup of tea, with some nice muffin, against you come down, 
 and that's what you seldom see in Scotland, girl." 
 
 " Measter's waiting for the young woman," said Tummas, 
 impatiently. 
 
 " Well, Mr. Jack Sauce, and what is your business to put 
 in your oar ? And how often must I tell you to call Mr. 
 Staunton his Eeverence, seeing as he is a dignified clergyman, 
 and not be meastering, meastering him, as if he were a little 
 petty squire ? " 
 
 As Jeanie was now at the door, and ready to accompany 
 Tummas, the footman said nothing till he got into the passage, 
 when he muttered, " There are moe masters than one in this 
 house, and I think we shall have a mistress too, an Dame Dal- 
 ton carries it thus." 
 
 Tummas led the way through a more intricate range of 
 passages than Jeanie had yet threaded, and ushered her into 
 an apartment which was darkened by the closing of most of 
 the window-shutters, and in which was a bed with the curtains 
 partly drawn. 
 
 " Here is the young woman, sir," said Tummas. 
 
 " Very well," said a voice from the bed, but not that of 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 335 
 
 his Eeverence ; ''be ready to answer the bell, and leave the 
 room/' 
 
 " There is some mistake/^ said Jeanie, confounded at find- 
 ing herself in the apartment of an invalid ; " the servant told 
 me that the minister " 
 
 " Don^t trouble yourself," said the invalid, ''there is no 
 mistake. I know more of your affairs than my father, and I 
 can manage them better. Leave the room, Tom/* The serv- 
 ant obeyed. " We must not, "^ said the invalid, "lose time, when 
 we have little to lose. Open the shutter of that window." 
 
 She did so, and as he drew aside the curtain of his bed the 
 light fell on his pale countenance, as, turbaued with bandages 
 and dressed in a nightgown, he lay, seemingly exhausted, upon 
 the bed. 
 
 " Look at me," he said, " Jeanie Deans ; can you not recol- 
 lect me ? " 
 
 " No, sir," said she, full of surprise. " I was never in this 
 country before." 
 
 "But I may have been in yours. Think — recollect. I 
 should faint did I name the name you are most dearly bound 
 to loathe and to detest. Think — remember ! " 
 
 A terrible recollection flashed on Jeanie, which every tone 
 of the speaker confirmed, and which his next words rendered 
 certainty. 
 
 " Be composed — remember Muschat's Cairn and the moon- 
 light night ! " 
 
 Jeanie sunk down on a chair, with clasped hands, and gasped 
 in agony. 
 
 " Yes, here I lie," he said, " like a crushed snake, writhing 
 with impatience at my incapacity of motion ; here I lie, when 
 I ought to have been in Edinburgh, trying every means to save 
 a life that is dearer to me than my own. How is your sister ? 
 how fares it with her ? — condemned to death, I know it, by 
 this time ! 0, the horse that carried me safely on a thousand 
 errands of folly and wickedness — that he should have broke 
 down with me on the only good mission I have undertaken for 
 years ! But I must rein in my passion ; my frame cannot 
 endure it, and I have much to say. Give me some of the 
 cordial which stands on that table. Why do you tremble ? 
 But you have too good cause. Let it stand ; I need it not," 
 
 Jeanie, however reluctant, approached him with the cup 
 into which she had poured the draught, and could not forbear 
 saying, " There is a cordial for the mind, sir, if the wicked will 
 turn from their transgressions and seek to the Physician of 
 souls." 
 
336 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 "Silence!" he said, sternly ; "and yet I thank you. But 
 tell me, and lose no time in doing so, what you are doing in 
 this country ? Remember, though I have been your sister's 
 worst enemy, yet I will serve her with the best of my blood, 
 and I will serve you for her sake ; and no one can serve you to 
 such purpose, for no one can know the circumstances so well ; 
 so speak without fear." 
 
 " I am not afraid, sir," said Jeanie, collecting her spirits. 
 " I trust in God ; and if it pleases Him to redeem my sister's 
 captivity, it is all I seek, whosoever be the instrument. But, 
 sir, to be plain with you, I dare not use your counsel, unless 
 I were enabled to see that it accords with the law which I 
 must rely upon." 
 
 "•' The devil take the Puritan ! " cried George Staunton, for 
 so we must now call him. " I beg your pardon ; but I am 
 naturally impatient, and you drive me mad ! What harm 
 can it possibly do you to tell me in what situation your sister 
 stands, and your own expectations of being able to assist her? 
 It is time enough to refuse my advice when I offer any which 
 you may think improper. I speak calmly to you, though 'tis 
 against my nature ; but don't urge me to impatience : it will 
 only render me incapable of serving Effie." 
 
 There was in the looks and words of this unhappy young 
 man a sort of restrained eagerness and impetuosity, which 
 seemed to prey upon itself, as the impatience of a fiery steed 
 fatigues itself with churning upon the bit. After a moment's 
 consideration, it occurred to Jeanie that she was not entitled 
 to withhold from him, whether on her sister's account or her 
 own, the account of the fatal consequences of the crime 
 which he had committed, nor to reject such advice, being in 
 itself lawf al and innocent, as he might be able to suggest in 
 the way of remedy. Accordingly, in as few words as she 
 could express it, she told the history of her sister's trial and 
 condemnation, and of her own journey as far as Newark. 
 He appeared to listen in the utmost agony of mind, yet re- 
 pressed every violent symptom of emotion, whether by gesture 
 or sound, which might have interrupted the speaker, and, 
 stretched on his couc'i like the Mexican monarch on his bed 
 of live coals, only the contortions of his cheek, and the 
 quivering of his limbs, gave indication of his sufferings. To 
 much of what she said he listened with stifled groans, as if 
 he were only hearing those miseries confirmed whose fatal 
 reality he had known before ; but when she pursued her tale 
 through the circumstances which had interrupted her journey, 
 extreme surprise and earnest attention appeared to succeed 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 327 
 
 to the symptoms of remorse which he had before exhibited. 
 He questioned Jeanie closely concerning the appearance of 
 the two men, and the conversation which she had overheard 
 between the taller of them and the woman. 
 
 When Jeanie mentioned the old woman having allnded to 
 her foster-son — '^'It is too true," he said ; "and the source 
 from which I derived food, when an infant, must have com- 
 municated to me the wretched — the fated — propensity to vices 
 that were strangers in my own family. But go on." 
 
 Jeanie passed slightly over her journey in company with 
 Madge, having no inclination to repeat what might be the ef- 
 fect of mere raving on the part of her companion, and there- 
 fore her tale was now closed. 
 
 Young Staunton lay for a moment in profound meditation, 
 and at length spoke with more composure than he had yet 
 displayed during their interview. " You are a sensible, as 
 well as a good, young woman, Jeanie Deans, and I will tell you 
 more of my story tlian I have told to any one. Story did I 
 call it ? it is a tissue of folly, guilt, and misery. But take 
 notice, I do it because I desire your confidence in return — that 
 is, that you will act in this dismal matter by my advice and 
 direction. Therefore do I speak." 
 
 *' I will do what is fitting for a sister, and a daughter, and 
 a Christian woman to do," said Jeanie ; " but do not tell me 
 any of your secrets. It is not good that I should come into 
 your counsel, or listen to the doctrine which causeth to err." 
 
 " Simple fool ! " said the young man. "Look at me. My 
 head is not horned, my foot is not cloven, my hands are not 
 garnished with talons ; and, since I am not the very devil him- 
 self, what interest can any one else have in destroying the hopes 
 with which you comfort or fool yourself ? Listen to me, pa- 
 tiently, and 3'OU will find that, when you have heard my coun- 
 sel, you may go to the seventh heaven with it in your pocket, 
 if you have a mind, and not feel yourself an ounce heavier in 
 the ascent." 
 
 At the risk of being somewhat heavy, as explanations usu- 
 ally prove, we must here endeavor to combine into a distinct 
 narrative information which the invalid communicated in a 
 manner at once too circumstantial, and too much broken by 
 passion, to admit of our giving his precise words. Part of it, 
 indeed, he read from a manuscript, which he had perhaps 
 drawn uj) for the information of his relations after his de- 
 cease. 
 
 " To make my tale short, — this wretched hag, this Margaret 
 Murdockson, was the wife of a favorite servant of my father; 
 
328 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 she had been my nnrse ; her husband was dead ; she resided in 
 a cottage near this place ; she had a daughter who grew up and 
 was then a beautiful but very giddy girl ; her mother endeav- 
 ored to promote her marriage with an old and wealthy churl 
 in the neighborhood. The girl saw me frequently ; she was 
 familiar with me, as our connection seemed to permit, and I — 
 in a word, I wronged her cruelly. It was not so bad as your 
 sister's business, but it was sufficiently villanous ; her folly 
 should have been her protection. Soon after this I was sent 
 abroad. To do my father justice, if I have turned out a 
 fiend, it is not his fault : he used the best means. When I 
 returned, I found the wretched mother and daughter had 
 fallen into disgrace, and were chased from this country. My 
 deep share in their shame and misery was discovered ; my 
 father used very harsh language ; we quarrelled. I left his 
 house, and led a life of strange adventure, resolving never 
 again to see my father or my father's home. 
 
 " And now comes the story ! Jeanie, I put my life into your 
 hands, and not only my own life, which, God knows, is not 
 worth saving, but the happiness of a respectable old man, and 
 the honor of a family of consideration. My love of low so- 
 ciety, as such propensities as I was cursed with are usually 
 termed, was, I think, of an uncommon kind, and indicated a 
 nature which, if not depraved by early debauchery, would 
 have been fit for better things. I did not so much delight in 
 the wild revel, the low humor, the unconfined liberty of those 
 with whom I associated, as in the spirit of adventure, pres- 
 ence of mind in peril, and sharpness of intellect which they 
 displayed in prosecuting their maraudings upon the revenue, 
 or similar adventures. — Have you looked round this rectory ? 
 Is it not a sweet and pleasant retreat ? " 
 
 Jeanie, alarmed at his sudden change of subject, replied 
 in the affirmative. 
 
 " Well ! I wish it had been ten thousand fathoms under 
 ground, with its church lands, and tithes, and all that belongs 
 to it ! Had it not been for this cursed rectory, I should have 
 been permitted to follow the bent of my own inclinations and 
 the profession of arms, and half the courage and address that 
 I have displayed among smugglers and deer-stealers would 
 have secured me an honorable rank among my contempora- 
 ries. Why did I not go abroad when I left this house ? Why 
 did I leave it at all ? — why ? But it came to that point 
 with me that it is madness to look back, and misery to look 
 forward."" 
 
 He paused, and then proceeded with more composure. 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 320 
 
 " The chances of a wandering life brought me nnhappily to 
 Scotland^ to embroil myself in worse and more criminal actions 
 than I had yet been concerned in. It was now I became ac- 
 quainted with Wilson, a remarkable man in his station of life — 
 quiet, composed, and resolute, firm in mind, and uncommon- 
 ly strong in person, gifted with a sort of rough eloquence 
 which raised him above his companions. Hitherto I had been 
 
 As'dissolute as desperate, yet through both 
 Were seen some sparkles of a better hope. 
 
 But it was this man's misfortune, as well as mine, that, not- 
 withstanding the difference of our rank and education, he 
 acquired an extraordinary and fascinating influence over me, 
 which I can only account for by the calm determination of 
 his character being superior to the less sustained impetuosity 
 of mine. Where he led, I felt myself bound to follow ; and 
 strange was the courage and address which he displayed in his 
 pursuits. While I was engaged in desperate adventures, un- 
 der so strange and dangerous a preceptor, I became acquainted 
 with your unfortunate sister at some sports of the young peo- 
 ple in the suburbs, which she frequented by stealth ; and her 
 ruin proved an interlude to the tragic scenes in which I was 
 now deeply engaged. Yet this let me say : the villany was 
 not premeditated, and I was firmly resolved to do her all the 
 Justice which marriage could do, so soon as I should be able 
 to extricate myself from my unhappy course of life, and em- 
 brace some one more suited to my birth. I had wild visions 
 -^visions of conducting her as if to some poor retreat, and 
 introducing her at once to rank and fortune she never dreamed 
 of. A friend, at my request, attempted a negotiation with 
 my father, which was protracted for some time, and renewed 
 at different intervals. At length, and just when I expected 
 my father's pardon, he learned by some means or other my 
 infamy, painted in even exaggerated colors, which was, God 
 knows, unnecessary. He wrote me a letter — how it found me 
 out I know not — enclosing me a sum of money, and disowning 
 me forever. I became desperate — I became frantic — I readily 
 joined Wilson in a perilous smuggling adventure in which we 
 miscarried, and was willingly blinded by his logic to consider 
 the robbery of the officer of the customs in Fife as a fair and 
 honorable reprisal. Hitherto I had observed a certain line 
 in my criminality, and stood free of assaults upon personal 
 property, but now I felt a wild pleasure in disgracing myself 
 as much as possible. 
 
 ** The plunder was no object to me. I abandoned that to 
 
330 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 my comrades, and only asked the post of danger. 1 remem- 
 ber well, that when I stood with my drawn sword guarding 
 the door while they committed the felony, I had not a thought 
 of my own safety. I was only meditating on my sense of sup- 
 posed wrong from my family, my impotent thirst of venge- 
 ance, and how it would sound in the haughty ears of the 
 family of Willingham, that one of their descendants, and the 
 heir-apparent of their honors^, should perish by the hands 
 of the hangman for robbing a Scottish gauger of a sum not 
 equal to one-iifth part of the money I had in my pocket-book. 
 We were taken ; I expected no less. We were condemned ; 
 that also I looked for. But death, as he approached nearer, 
 looked grimly ; and the recollection of your sisters destitute 
 condition determined me on an effort to save my life. I for- 
 got to tell you that in Edinburgh I again met the woman 
 Murdockson and her daughter. >She had followed the camp 
 when young, and had now, under pretence of a trifling traf- 
 fic, resumed predatory habits, with which she had already 
 been too familiar. Our first meeting was stormy ; but I was 
 liberal of what money I had, and she forgot, or seemed to for- 
 get, the injury her daughter had received. The unfortunate 
 girl lierself seemed hardly even to know her seducer, far less 
 to retain any sense of the injury she had received. Her mind 
 is totally alienated, which, according to her mother's account, 
 is sometimes the consequence of an unfavorable confinement. 
 But it was my doing. Here was another stone knitted round 
 my neck to sink me into the pit of perdition. Every look, 
 every word of this poor creature, her false spirits, her imper- 
 fect recollections, her allusions to things which she had for- 
 gotten, but which were recorded in my conscience, were stabs 
 of a poniard. Stabs did I say ? they were tearing with hot 
 pincers, and scalding the raw wound with burning sulphur ; 
 they were to be endured, however, and they were endured. I 
 return to my prison thoughts. 
 
 " It was not the least miserable of them that your sister's 
 time approached. I knew her dread of you and of her father. 
 She often said she would die a thousand deaths ere you should 
 know her shame ; yet her confinement must be provided for. 
 I knew this woman Murdockson M^as an infernal hag, but I 
 thought she loved me, and that money would make her true. 
 She had procured a file for Wilson and a spring-saw for me ; 
 and she undertook readily to take charge of Effie during her 
 illness, in which she had skill enough to give the necessary 
 assistance. I gave her the money which my father had sent 
 me. It was settled that she should receive Effie into her house 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 331 
 
 in the meantime, and wait for further directions from me, 
 when I should effect my escape. I communicated this pur- 
 pose, and recommended the okl hag to poor Effie by a letter, 
 in which I recollect that I endeavored to support the charac- 
 ter of Macheath under condemnation — a fine, gay, bold-faced 
 ruffian, who is game to the last. Such, and so wretchedly 
 poor, was my ambition ! Yet I had resolved to forsake the 
 courses I had been engaged in, should I be so fortunate as to 
 escape the gibbet. My design was to marry your sister and 
 go over to the West Indies. I had still a considerable sum 
 of money left, and I trusted to be able, in one way or other, 
 to provide for myself and my wife. 
 
 " We made the attempt to escape, and by the obstinacy of 
 Wilson, who insisted upon going first, it totally miscarried. 
 The undaunted and self-denied manner in which he sacrificed 
 himself to redeem his error, and accomplish my escape from 
 the Tolbooth Church, you must have heard of : all Scotland 
 rang with it. It was a gallant and extraordinary deed. All 
 men spoke of it ; all men, even those who most condemned the 
 habits and crimes of this self-devoted man, praised the heroism 
 of his friendship. I have many vices, but cowardice or want 
 of gratitude are none of the number. I resolved to requite 
 his generosity, and even your sister's safety became a second- 
 ary consideration with me for the time. To effect Wilson's 
 liberation was my principal object, and I doubted not to find 
 the means. 
 
 "^ Yet I did not forget Effie neither. The bloodhounds 
 of the law were so close after me, that I dared not trust my- 
 self near any of my old haunts ; but old Murdockson met me 
 by appointment, and informed me that your sister had hap- 
 pily been delivered of a boy. I charged the hag to keep her 
 patient's mind easy, and let her want for nothing that money 
 could purchase, and I retreated to Fife, where, among my old 
 associates of Wilson's gang, I hid myself in those places of 
 concealment where the men engaged in that desperate trade 
 are used to find security for themselves and their uncustomed 
 goods. Men who are disobedient both to human and divine 
 laws are not always insensible to the claims of courage and 
 generosity. We were assured that the mob of Edinburgh, 
 strongly moved with the hardships of Wilson's situation and 
 the gallantry of his conduct, would back any bold attempt 
 that might be made to rescue him even from the foot of the 
 gibbet. Desperate as the attempt seemed, ujjon my declaring 
 myself ready to lead the onset on the guard, I found no want 
 of followers who engaged to stand by me, and returned to 
 
832 WAVEBLEY NOVELS 
 
 Lothian, soon joined by some steady associates, prepared to 
 act whenever the occasion might require. 
 
 " I have no doubt I should have rescued him from the very 
 noose that dangled over his head," he continued, with anima- 
 tion, which seemed a flash of the interest which he had taken in 
 such exploits ; " but among other precautions, the magistrates 
 had taken one — suggested, as we afterwards learned, by the 
 unhappy wretch Porteous — which effectually disconcerted my 
 measures. They anticipated by half an hour the ordinary 
 period for execution ; and, as it had been resolved among us 
 that, for fear of observation from the officers of justice, we 
 should not show ourselves upon the street until the time of 
 action approached, it followed that all was over before our 
 attempt at a rescue commenced. It did commence, however, 
 and I gained the scaffold and cut the rope with my own hand. 
 It was too late ! The bold, stout-hearted, generous criminal 
 was no more, and vengeance was all that remained to us — a 
 vengeance, as I then tliought, doubly due from my hand, to 
 whom Wilson had given life and liberty when he could as 
 easily liave secured his own." 
 
 " 0, sir," said Jeanie, "did the Scripture never come into 
 your mind, ' Vengeance is mine, and I will repay it ?'" 
 
 " Scripture ! Why, I had not opened a Bible for five 
 years," answered Staunton. 
 
 " Wae's me, sirs," said Jeanie, "and a minister's son 
 too!" 
 
 "It is natural for you to say so ; yet do not interrupt me, 
 but let me finish my most accursed history. The beast. Por- 
 teous, who kept firing on the people long after it had ceased 
 to be necessary, became the object of their hatred for having 
 overdone his duty, and of mine for having done it too well. 
 We — ^that is, I and the other determined friends of Wilson — 
 reso] ved to be avenged ; but caution was necessary. I thought 
 I had been marked by one of the officers, and therefore con- 
 tinued to lurk about the vicinity of Edinburgh, but without 
 daring to venture within the walls. At length I visited, at the 
 hazard of my life, the place where I hoped to find my future 
 wife and my son ; they were both gone. Dame Murdockson in- 
 formed me that, so soon as Effie heard of the miscarriage of 
 the attempt to rescue Wilson, and the hot pursuit after me, 
 she fell into a brain fever ; and that, being one day obliged to 
 go out on some necessary business and leave her alone, she had 
 taken that opportunity to escape, and she had not seen her 
 since. I loaded her with reproaches, to which she listened 
 with the most provoking and callous composure ; for it is one 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 338 
 
 of her attributes that, violent and fierce as she is upon most 
 occasions, there are some in whi'ch she shows the most imper- 
 turbable calmness. I threatened her with justice ; she said I 
 had more reason to fear justice than she had. I felt she was 
 right, and was silenced, I threatened her with vengeance ; 
 she replied in nearly the same words, that, to judge by injuries 
 received, I had more reason to fear her vengeance than she to 
 dread mine. She was again right, and I was left without an 
 answer. I flung myself from her in indignation, and employed 
 a comrade to make inquiry in tlie neighborhood of St. Leon- 
 ard's concerning your sister ; but ere I received his answer, the 
 opening quest of a well-scented terrier of the law drove me 
 from the vicinity of Edinburgh to a more distant and secluded 
 place of concealment. A secret and trusty emissary at length 
 brought me the account of Porteous's condemnation, and of 
 your sister's imprisonment on a criminal charge ; thus astound- 
 ing one of mine ears, while he gratified the other. 
 
 " I again ventured to the Pleasance — again charged Mur- 
 dockson with treachery to the unfortunate Effie and her child, 
 though I could conceive no reason, save that of appropriating 
 the whole of the money I had lodged with her. Your narra- 
 tive throws light on this, and shows another motive, not less 
 powerful because less evident — the desire of wreaking venge- 
 ance on the seducer of her daughter, the destroyer at once 
 of her reason and reputation. Great God ! how I wish that, 
 instead of the revenge she made choice of, she had delivered 
 me up to the cord ! " 
 
 " But what account did the wretched woman give of EflBe 
 and the bairn ? " said Jeanie, who, during this long and agi- 
 tating narrative, had firmness and discernment enough to 
 keep her eye on such points as might throw light on her sis- 
 ter's misfortunes. 
 
 ''She would give none," said Staunton; "she said the 
 mother made a moonlight flitting from her house, with the 
 infant in her arms ; that she had never seen either of them 
 since ; that the lass might have thrown the child into the 
 North Loch or the Quarry Holes, for what she knew, and it 
 was like enough she had done so." 
 
 "And how came you to believe that she did not speak the 
 fatal truth ? " said Jeanie, trembling. 
 
 " Because, on this second oc(5asion, I saw her daughter, and 
 I understood from her that, in fact, the child had been re- 
 moved or destroyed during the illness of the mother. But 
 all knowledge to be got from her is so uncertain and indirect, 
 that I could not collect any further circumstances. Only the 
 
334 WAVERLEY XOVELS 
 
 diabolical character of old Mnrdockson makes me augur the 
 worst." 
 
 " The last account agrees with that given by my poor sis- 
 ter,'' said Jeanie ; " but gang on wi' your ain tale, sir." 
 
 '' Of this I am certain," said Staunton, "thatEffie, in hei 
 senses, and with her knowledge, never injured living creature. 
 But what could I do in her exculpation ? Nothing ; and there- 
 fore my whole thoughts were turned towards her safety. I 
 was under the cursed necessity of suppressing my feelings to- 
 wards Mnrdockson : my life was in the hag's hand — that I 
 cared not for; but on my life hung that of your sister. I 
 spoke the wretch fair ; I appeared to confide in her ; and to 
 me, so far as I was personally concerned, she gave proofs of 
 extraordinary fidelity. I was at first uncertain Avhat measures 
 I ought to adopt for your sister's liberation, when the general 
 rage excited among the citizens of Edinburgh on account of 
 the reprieve of Porteous suggested to me the daring idea of 
 forcing the jail, and at once carrying off your sister from the 
 clutches of the law, and bringing to condign punishment a 
 miscreant who had tormented the unfortunate Wilson even 
 in the hour of death, as if he had been a wild Indian taken 
 captive by a hostile tribe. I flung myself among the multi- 
 tude in the moment of fermentation ; so did oihers among 
 Wilson's mates, who had, like me, been disappointed in the 
 hope of glutting their eyes with Porteous's execution. All 
 was organized, and I was chosen for the captain. I felt not — 
 I do not now feel — compunction for what was to be done, and 
 has since been executed." 
 
 '' 0, Grod forgive ye, sir, and bring ye to a better sense of 
 your ways ! " exclaimed Jeanie, in horror at the avowal of such 
 violent sentiments. 
 
 ''Amen," replied Staunton, " if my sentiments are wrong. 
 But I repeat that, although willing to aid the deed, I could 
 have wished them to have chosen another leader ; because I 
 foresaw that the great and general duty of the night would 
 interfere with the assistance which I proposed to render Effie. 
 I gave a commission, however, to a trusty friend to protect 
 her to a place of safety, so soon as the fatal procession had left 
 the jail. But for no persuasions which I could use in the 
 hurry of the moment, or which my comrade employed at more 
 length, after the mob had taken a different direction, could 
 the unfortunate girl be prevailed upon to leave the prison. 
 His arguments were all wasted upon the infatuated victim, 
 and he was obliged to leave her in order to attend to his own 
 safety. Such was his account; but perhaps he persevered 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 335 
 
 less steadily in his attempt to persuade her than I wotild have 
 done." 
 
 " EflBe was right to remain," said Jeanie ; "and I love her 
 the better for it." 
 
 "Why will you say so ?" said Staunton. 
 
 "You cannot understand my reasons, sir, if I should ren- 
 der them," answered Jeanie, composedly; "they that thirst 
 for the blood of their enemies have no taste for the well -spring 
 of life." 
 
 "My hopes," said Staunton, "were thus a second time 
 disappointed. My next efforts were to bring her through her 
 trial by means of yourself. How I urged it, and whei-e, you 
 cannot have forgotten. I do not blame you for your refusal ; 
 it was founded, I am convinced, on principle, and not on in- 
 difference to your sister's fate. For me, judge of me as a 
 man frantic ; I knew not what hand to turn to, and all my 
 efforts were unavailing. In this condition, and close beset 
 on all sides, I thought of what might be done by means of my 
 family and their influence. I fled from Scotland ; I reached 
 this place ; my miserably wasted and unhappy appearance 
 procured me from my father that pardon which a parent finds 
 it so hard to refuse, even to the mostundeserving son. And 
 here I have awaited in anguish of mind, which the condemned 
 criminal might envy, the event of your sister's trial." 
 
 "Without taking any steps for her relief?" said Jeanie. 
 
 "To the last I hoped her case might terminate more favor- 
 ably ; and it> is only two days since that the fatal tidings 
 reached me.*/ My resolution was instantly taken. I mounted 
 my best horsfe with the purpose of making the utmost haste 
 to London, and there compounding with Sir Eobert Walpole 
 for your sister's safety, by surrendering to him, in the per- 
 son of the heir of the family of Willingham, the notorious 
 George Robertson, the accomplice of Wilson, the breaker of 
 the Tolbooth prison, and the well-known leader of the Por- 
 teons mob." 
 
 " But would that save my sister ? " said Jeanie, in aston- 
 ishment. 
 
 "It would, as I should drive my bargain," said Staunton. 
 " Queens love revenge as well as their subjects. Little as you 
 seem to esteem it, it is a poison which pleases all j^alates, 
 from the prince to the peasant. Prime ministers love no 
 less the power of pleasing sovereigns by gratifying their 
 passions. The life of an obscure village girl ! Why, I might 
 ask the best of the crown jewels for laying the head of such 
 »u insolent conspiracy at the foot of her Majesty, with a cer- 
 
336 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 taintyof being gratified. All my other plans have failed, 
 but this could not. Heaven is just, however, and would not 
 honor me with making this voluntary atonement for the in- 
 Jury I have done your sister. I had not rode ten miles, when 
 my horse, the best and most sure-footed animal in this coun- 
 try, fell with me on a level piece of road, as if he had been 
 struck by a cannon-shot. I was greatly hurt, and was brought 
 back here in the miserable condition in which you now see 
 me. 
 
 As young Staunton had come to the conclusion, the serv- 
 ant opened the door, and, with a voice which seemed in- 
 tended rather for a signal than merely the announcing of a 
 visit, said, ''His Keverence, sir, is coming upstairs to wait 
 upon yon.^' 
 
 " For Grod's sake, hide yourself, Jeanie," exclaimed Staun- 
 ton, " in that dressing-closet ! " 
 
 " No, sir," said Jeanie ; " as I am here for nae ill, I canna 
 take the shame of hiding mysell frae the master o' the house.''' 
 
 " But, good Heavens ! " exclaimed George Staunton, " do 
 but consider " 
 
 Ere he could complete the sentence, his father entered the 
 apartmenta 
 
CHAPTER XXXIV 
 
 And now, will pardon, comfort, kindness, draw^ 
 The youth from vice? will honor, duty, law ? 
 
 Crabbe. 
 
 Je ANIE arose from her seat and made her quiet reverence when 
 the elder Mr. Staunton entered the apartment. His astonish- 
 ment was extreme at finding his son in such company. 
 
 "I perceive, madam," he said, " I have made a mistake re- 
 specting you, and ought to have left the task of interrogating 
 you, and of righting your wrongs, to this young man, with 
 whom, doubtless, you have been formerly acquainted." 
 
 " It's unwitting on my part that I am here," said Jeanie ; 
 ''the servant told me his master wished to speak with me." 
 
 " There goes the purple coat over my ears," murmured 
 Tummas. " D — n her, why must she needs speak the truth, 
 when she could have as well said anything else she had a 
 mind ?" 
 
 " George," said Mr. Staunton, " if you are still, as you 
 have ever been, lost to all self-respect, you might at least have 
 spared your father, and your father's house, such a disgraceful 
 scene as this." 
 
 " Upon my life — upon my soul, sir ! " said George, throwing 
 his feet over the side of the bed, and starting from his recum- 
 bent posture. 
 
 " Your life, sir !" interrupted his father, with melancholy 
 sternness — " what sort of life has it been ? Your soul ! alas ! 
 what regard have you ever paid to it ? Take care to reform 
 both ere offering either as pledges of your sincerity .f 
 
 ''On my honor, sir, you do me wrong," answered George 
 Staunton ; "1 have been all that you can call me that's bad, 
 but in the present instance you do me injustice. By my 
 honor, you do ! " 
 
 " Your honor ! " said his father, and turned from him, with 
 a look of the most upbraiding contempt, to Jeanie. " From 
 you, young woman, I neither ask nor expect any explanation ; 
 but, as a father alike and as a clergyman, I request your de- 
 parture from this house. If your romantic story has been 
 other than a pretext to find admission into it — which, from 
 tiie society m which you first appeared, I may be permitted to 
 
338 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 doubt — yon will find a jnstice of peace within two miles, witK 
 whom, more properly than with me, yon may lodge your com. 
 plaint." 
 
 " This shall not be/' said George Staunton, starting up to 
 his feet. " Sir, you are naturally kind and humane ; you shall 
 not become cruel and inhospitable on my account. Turn out 
 that eavesdropping rascal," pointing to Thomas, "and get 
 what hartshorn drops, or what better receipt you have against 
 fainting, and I will explain to you in two words the connec- 
 tion betwixt this young woman and me. She shall not lose her 
 fair character through me. I have done too much mischief 
 to her family already, and I know too well what belongs to 
 the loss of fame." 
 
 " Leave the room, sir," said the Rector to the servant ^ 
 and when the man had obeyed, he carefully shut the door be- 
 hind him. Then addressing his son, he said, sternly, " Now, 
 sir, what new proof of your infamy have vou to impart to 
 me?" 
 
 Young Staunton was about to speak, but it was one of those 
 moments when persons who, like Jeanie Deans, possess the 
 advantage of a steady courage and unruffled temper, can assume 
 the superiority over more ardent but less determined spirits. 
 
 *^ Sir," she said to the elder Staunton, "yo have an un- 
 doubted right to ask your ain son to render a reason of his 
 conduct. But respecting me, I am but a wayfaring traveller, 
 no ways obligated or indebted to you, unless it be for the meal 
 of meat, which, in my ain country, is willingly gien by rich 
 or poor, according to their ability, to those who need it ; and 
 for which, forbye that, I am willing to make payment, if I 
 didna think it would be an affront to offer siller in a house 
 like this, only I dinna ken the fashions of the country." 
 
 " This is all very well, young woman," said the Eector, a 
 good deal surprised, and unable to conjecture whether to im- 
 pute Jeaiiie's language to simplicity or impertinence. — " this 
 may be all very well, but let me bring it to a point. Why do 
 you stop this young man's mouth, and prevent his communi- 
 cating to his father and his best friend an explanation, since 
 he says he has one, of circumstances which seem in themselves 
 not a little suspicious ?" 
 
 " He may tell of his ain affairs what he likes," answered 
 Jeanie ; '' bvit my family and friends have nae right to hae 
 ony stories told anent them without their express desire ; and, 
 as they canna be here to speak for themselves, I entreat ye 
 wadna ask Mr. G-eorge Rob — I mean Staunton, or whatever his 
 name is — ony questions anent me or my folk ; for I maun be 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 889 
 
 free to tell yon, that he will neither have the bearing of a 
 Christian or a gentleman if he answers you against my express 
 desire." 
 
 "This is the most extraordinary thing I ever met with," 
 said the Kector, as, after fixing his eyes keenly on the placid 
 yet modest countenance of Jeanie, he turned them suddenly 
 upon his son. " What have you to say, sir ?" 
 
 " That I feel I have been too hasty in my promise, sir," 
 answered George Staunton. " I have no title to make any 
 communications respecting the affairs of this young person's 
 family without her assent." 
 
 The elder Mr. Staunton turned his eyes from one to the 
 other with marks of surprise. 
 
 " This is more and worse, I fear," he said, addressing hia 
 son, " than one of your frequent and disgraceful connections. 
 I insist upon knowing the mystery." 
 
 " I have already said, sir," replied his son, rather sullenly, 
 " that I have no title to mention the affairs of this young 
 woman's family without her consent." 
 
 '•' And I hae nae mysteries to explain, sir," said Jeanie, 
 " but only to pray you, as a preacher of the Gospel and a gen- 
 tleman, to permit me to go safe to the next public-house on 
 the Lunnon road," 
 
 " I shall take care of your safety," said young Staunton ; 
 " you need ask that favor from no one.*' 
 
 " Do you say so before my face ? " said the justly incensed 
 father. " Perhaps, sir, you intend to fill up the cup of dis*- 
 obedience and profligacy by forming a low and disgraceful 
 marriage ? But let me bid you beware." 
 
 " If you were feared for sic a thing happening wi' me, 
 sir," said Jeanie, " I can only say, that not for all the land 
 that lies between tlie twa ends of the rainbow wad I be the 
 woman that should wed your son." 
 
 ''There is something very singular in all this," said the 
 elder Staunton ; " follow me into the next room, young 
 woman." 
 
 " Hear me speak first," said the young man. " I have 
 but one word to say. I confide entirely in your prudence ; 
 tell my father as much or as little of these matters as you will, 
 he shall know neither more nor less from me." 
 
 His father darted to him a glance of indignation, -w^hich 
 softened into sorrow as he saw him gink down on the couch, 
 exhausted with the scene he had undergone. He left the 
 apartment, and Jeanie followed him, George Staunton raising 
 himself a-s she passed the doorway, and pronouncing the word 
 
340 WAVERLEY NOVEL!? 
 
 *' Remember 1 " in a tone as monitory as it was uttered by 
 Charles I. upon the scaffold. The elder Staunton led the way 
 into a small parlor, and shut the door. 
 
 " Young woman," said he, " there is something in your 
 face and appearance that marks both sense and simplicity, 
 and, if I am not deceived, innocence also. Should it be 
 otherwise, I can only say, you are the most accomplished 
 hypocrite I have ever seen. I ask to know no secret that you 
 have unwillingness to divulge, least of all those which con- 
 cern my son. His conduct has given me too much unhappi- 
 ness to permit me to hope comfort or satisfaction from him. 
 If you are such as I suppose you, believe me, that whatever 
 unhappy circumstances may have connected you with George 
 Staunton, the sooner you break them through the better.'' 
 
 " I think I understand your meaning, sir," replied Jeanie ; 
 *' and as ye are sae frank as to speak o' the young gentleman 
 in sic a way, I must needs say that it is but the second time 
 of my speaking wi' him in our lives, and what I hae heard 
 frae him on these twa occasions has been such that I never 
 wish to hear the like again." 
 
 " Then it is your real intention to leave this part of the 
 country, and proceed to London ? " said the Eector. 
 
 " Certainly, sir ; for I may say, in one sense, that the 
 avenger of blood is behind me ; and if I were but assured 
 against mischief by the way " 
 
 '•' I have made inquiry," said the clergyman, '- after the sus- 
 picious characters you described. They have lef ? their place of 
 rendezvous ; but as they may be lurking in the neighborhood, 
 and as you say you have special reason to apprehend violence 
 from them, I will put you under the charge ot a steady per- 
 son, who will protect you as far as Stamford, and see you into 
 a light coach, which goes from thence to London," 
 
 " A coach is not for the like of me, sir," said Jeanie, to 
 whom the idea of a stage-coach was unknown, as, indeed, 
 they were then only used in the neighborhood of London. 
 
 Mr. Staunton briefly explained that she would find that 
 mode of conveyance more commodious, cheaper, and more safe 
 than travelling on horseback. She expressed her gratitude 
 with so much singleness of heart, that he was induced to ask 
 her whether she wanted the pecuniary means of prosecuting 
 her journey. She thanked him, but said she had enough for 
 her purpose ; and, indeed, she had husbanded her stock with 
 great care. This reply served also to remove some doubts 
 which naturally enough still floated in Mr. Staunton's mind, 
 respecting her character and real purpose, and satisfied him. 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 841 
 
 at least, that money did not enter into her scheme of decep- 
 tion, if an impostor slie should prove. He next requested to 
 know what part of the city slie wished to go to. 
 
 " To a very decent merchant, a consin o' my ain, a Mrs. 
 Glass, sir, that sells snuff and tobacco, at the sign o' the 
 Thistle, somegate in the town.''' 
 
 Jeanie communicated this intelligence with a feeling that 
 a connection so respectable ought to give her consequence in 
 the eyes of Mr. Staunton ; and she was a good deal surprised 
 when he answered — "And is this woman your only acquaint- 
 ance in London, my poor girl ? and have you really no better 
 knowledge where she is to be found ? " 
 
 " I was gaun to see the Duke of Argyie, forbye Mrs. Glass,'* 
 said Jeanie ; ''and if your honor thinks it would be best to go 
 there first, and get some of his Grace's folk to show me my 
 cousin's shop " 
 
 ''Are you acquainted with any of the Duke of Argyle's 
 people ? " said the Eector. 
 
 "No, sir." 
 
 "Her brain must be something touched after all, or it 
 would be impossible for her to rely on such introductions. 
 Well," said he aloud, " I must not inquire into the cause of 
 your journey, and so I cannot be fit to give yon advice how to 
 manage it. Bat the landlady of the house "where the coach 
 stops is a very decent person ; and as I use her house some- 
 times, I will give you a recommendation to her.''' 
 
 Jeanie thanked him for his kindness with her best court- 
 esy, and said, "That with his honor's line, and ane from 
 worthj^ Mrs. Bickerton, that keeps the Seven Stars at York, 
 she did not doubt to be well taken out in Lunuon." 
 
 " And now," said he, "I presume you will be desirous to 
 set out immediately." 
 
 " If I had been in an inn, sir, or any suitable resting- 
 place," answered Jeanie, "I wad not have presumed to use the 
 Lord's day for travelling ; but as 1 am on a journey of mercy, 
 I trust my doing so will not be imputed." 
 
 " You may, if you choose, remain with Mrs. Dalton for 
 the evening ; but I desire you will have no further correspond- 
 ence with my son, who is not a proper counsellor for a per- 
 son of your age, whatever your difficulties may be." 
 
 " Your honor speaks ower truly in that," said Jeanie ; " it 
 was not with my will that I spoke wi' him just now, and — 
 not to wish the gentleman onything but gnde — I never wish 
 to see him between the een again." 
 
 ** If you please," added the Rector, "as you seem to be a 
 
842 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 serionsly disposed young woman, yon may attend family wor- 
 ship in the hall this evening." 
 
 " I thank your honor,"' said Jeanie ; " but I am doubtful 
 if my attendance would be to edification." 
 
 " How ! " said the Rector ; " so young, and already un- 
 fortunate enough to have doubts upon the duties of religion I" 
 
 " God forbid, sir," replied Jeanie ; " it is not for that ; 
 but I have been bred in the faith of the suffering remnant of 
 the Presbyterian doctrine in Scotland, and I am doubtful if I 
 can lawfully attend upon your fashion of worship, seeing it has 
 been testified against by many precious souls of our kirk, and 
 specially by my worthy father." 
 
 " Well, my good girl," said the Rector, with a good-hu- 
 mored smile, " far be it from me to put any force upon your 
 conscience ; and yet you ought to recollect that the same di- 
 vine grace dispenses its streams to other kingdoms as well as 
 to Scotland. As it is as essential to our spiritual as water to 
 our earthly wants, its springs, various in character, yet alike 
 efficacious in virtue, are to be found in abundance throughout 
 the Christian world." 
 
 " Ah, but," said Jeanie, " though the waters maybe alike, 
 yet, with your worship's leave, the blessing upon them may 
 not be equal. It would have been in vain for ISTaaman the 
 Syrian leper to have bathed in Pharphar and Abana, rivers of 
 Damascus, when it was only the waters of Jordan that were 
 sanctified for the cure." 
 
 ''Well," said the Rector, ''we will not enter upon the 
 great debate betwixt our national churches at present. We 
 must endeavor to satisfy you that at least, among our er- 
 rors, we preserve Christian charity, and a desire to assist our 
 brethren." 
 
 He then ordered Mrs. Dalton into his presence, and con- 
 signed Jeanie to her particular charge, with directions to be 
 kind to her, and with assurances that, early in the morning, 
 a trusty guide and a good horse should be ready to conduct 
 her to Stamford. He then took a serious and dignified, ^^Qt 
 kind leave of her, wishing her full success in the objects of 
 her journey, which he said he doubted not were laudable, 
 from the soundness of thinking which she had displayed in 
 conversation. 
 
 Jeanie was again conducted by the housekeeper to her own 
 apartment. But the evening was not destined to pass over 
 without further torment from young Staunton. A paper was 
 slipped into her hand by the faithful Tummas, whieli inti- 
 "aated his young master's desire, or rather demand, to see her 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 348 
 
 instantly, and assured her he had provided against interrup- 
 tion. 
 
 " Tell your young master/' said Jeanie, openly, and re- 
 gardless of all the winks and signs by which Tummas strove 
 to make her comprehend that Mrs. Dalton was not to be ad- 
 mitted into the secret of the correspondence, *' that I promised 
 faithfully to his worthy father that I would not see him 
 again." 
 
 "Tummas/' said Mrs. Dalton, "I think you might be 
 much more creditably employed, considering the coat you 
 wear and the house you live in, than to be carrying messages 
 between your young master and girls that chance to be in this 
 house." 
 
 "Why, Mrs. Dalton, as to that, I Avas hired to carry mes- 
 sages, and not to ask any questions about them ; and it's not 
 for the like of me to refuse the young gentleman's bidding, if 
 he were a little wildish or so. If there was harm meant, 
 there's no harm done, you see." 
 
 "However," said Mrs. Dalton, "I gie you fair warning, 
 Tummas Ditton, that an I catch thee at this work again, his 
 Eeverence shall make a clear house of you." 
 
 Tummas retired, abashed and in dismay. The rest of the 
 evening passed away without anything worthy of notice. 
 
 Jeanie enjoyed the comforts of a good bed and a sound 
 sleep with grateful satisfaction, after the perils and hardships 
 of the preceding day ; and such was her fatigue, that she slept 
 soundly until six o'clock, when she was awakened by Mrs. Dal- 
 ton, who acquainted her that her guide and horse were ready 
 and in attendance. She hastily rose, and, after her morning 
 devotions, was soon ready to resume her travels. The motherly 
 care of the housekeeper had provided an early breakfast, and, 
 after she had partaken of this refreshment, she found herself 
 safe seated on a pillion behind a stout Lincolnshire peasant, 
 who was, besides, armed with pistols, to protect her against 
 any violence which might be offered. 
 
 They trudged on in silence for a mile or two along a country 
 road, which conducted them, by hedge and gateway, into the 
 principal highway, a little beyond Grantham. At length her 
 master of the horse asked her whether her name was not Jean, 
 or Jane, Deans. She answered in the affirmative, with some 
 surprise. " Then here's a bit of a note as concerns you," said 
 the man, handing it over his left shoulder. " It's from young 
 master, as I judge, and every man about Willingham is fain 
 to pleasure him either for love or fear ; for he'll come to be 
 landlord at last, let them say what they like." 
 
344 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 Jeanie broke the seal of the note, which was addressed to 
 her, and read as follows : 
 
 " You refuse to see me. I suppose you are shocked at my 
 character ; but, in painting myself such as I am, you should 
 give me credit for my sincerity. lam, at least, no hypocrite. 
 You refuse, however, to see me, and your conduct may be 
 natural ; but is it wise ? I have expressed my anxiety to re- 
 pair your sister's misfortunes at the expense of my honor — 
 my family's honor — my own life ; and you think me too de- 
 based to be admitted even to sacrifice what I have remaining 
 of honor, fame, and life in her cause. Well, if the offerer be 
 despised, the victim is still equally at hand ; and perhaps there 
 may be justice in the decree of Heaven that I shall not have 
 the melancholy credit of appearing to make this sacrifice out of 
 my own free good- will. You, as you have declined my con- 
 currence, must take the whole upon yourself. Go, then, to the 
 Duke of Argyle, and, when other arguments fail you, tell him 
 you have it in your power to bring to condign punishment the 
 most active conspirator in the Porteous mob. He will hear you 
 on this topic, should he be deaf to ev3ry other. Make your 
 own terms, for they will be at your own making. You know 
 where I am to be found ; and you may be assured I will not 
 give you the dark side of the hill, as at Muschat's Cairn : I 
 have no thoughts of stirring from the house I was born in ; 
 like the hare, I shall be worried in the seat I started from. I 
 repeat it — make your own terms. I need not remind you to 
 ask your sister's life, for that you will do of course ; but make 
 terms of advantage for yourself : ask wealth and reward — office 
 and income for Butler — ask anything, you will get anything, 
 and all for delivering to the hands of the executioner a man 
 most deserving of his office — one who, though young in years, 
 is old in wicked uess, and whose most earnest desire is, after 
 the storms of an unquiet life, to sleep and be at rest." 
 
 This extraordinary letter was subscribed with the initials 
 
 Jeanie read it over once or twice with great attention, 
 which the slow pace of the horse, as he stalked through a 
 deep lane, enabled her to do with facility. 
 
 When she had perused this billet, her first employment 
 was to tear it into as small pieces as possible, and disperse 
 these pieces in the air by a few at a time, so that a document 
 containing so perilous a secret might not fall into any other 
 person's hand. 
 
 The question how far, in point of extremity, she was en- 
 titled to save her sister's life by sacrificing that of a person 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 345 
 
 who, thongh guilty towards the state, had done her no injury, 
 formed the next earnest and most painfnl subject of consid- 
 eration. In one sense, indeed, it seemed as if denonncing the 
 guilt of Staunton, the cause of her sister's errors and mis- 
 fortunes, would have been an act of just, and even providential, 
 retribution. But Jeanie, in the strict and severe tone of 
 morality in which she was educated, had to consider not only 
 the general aspect of a proposed action, but its justness and 
 fitness in relation to the actor, before she could be, according 
 to her own phrase, free to enter upon it. What right had 
 she to make a barter between the lives of Staunton and of 
 Effie, and to sacrifice the one for the safety of the other ? 
 His guilt — that guilt for which he was amenable to the laws — 
 was a crime against the public indeed, but it was not against 
 her. 
 
 Neither did it seem to her that his share in the death of 
 Porteous, though her mind revolted at the idea of using vio- 
 lence to any one, was in the relation of a common murder, 
 against the perpetrator of which every one is called to aid the 
 public magistrate. That violent action was blended with many 
 circumstances which, in the eyes of those of Jeanie's rank in 
 life, if they did not altogether deprive it of the character of 
 guilt, softened, at least, its most atrocious features. The 
 anxiety of the government to obtain conviction of some of the 
 offenders had but served to increase the public feeling which 
 connected the action, though violent and irregular, with the 
 idea of ancient national independence. The rigorous pro- 
 cedure adopted or proposed against the city of Edinburgh, 
 the ancient metropolis of Scotland, the extremely unpopular 
 and injudicious measure of compelling the Scottish clergy, 
 contrary to their principles and sense of duty, to promulgate 
 from the pulpit the reward offered for the discovery of the per- 
 petrators of this slaughter, had produced on the public mind 
 the opposite consequences from what were intended ; and 
 Jeanie felt conscious that, whoever should lodge information 
 concerning that event, and for whatsoever purpose it might 
 be done, it would be considered as an act of treason against 
 the independence of Scotland. With the fanaticism of the 
 Scotch Presbyterians there was always mingled a glow of na- 
 tional feeling, and Jeanie trembled at the idea of her name 
 being handed down to posterity with that of the " fause Mon- 
 teath," and one or two others, who, having deserted and be- 
 trayed the cause of their country, are damned to perpetual 
 remembrance and execration among its peasantry. Yet, to 
 part with Efiie's life once more, when a word spoken might 
 
346 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 save it, pressed severely on the mind of her affectionate 
 sister. 
 
 " Tlie Lord support and direct me ! " said Jeanie, "for it 
 seems to be His will to try me with difficulties far beyond my 
 ain strength." 
 
 While this thought passed through Jeanie's mind, her 
 guard, tired of silence, began to show some inclination to be 
 communicative. He seemed a sensible, steady peasant, but 
 not having more delicacy or prudence than is common to those 
 in his situation, he, of course, chose the Williugham family as 
 the subject of his conversation. From this man Jeanie learned 
 some particulars of which she had hitherto been ignorant, 
 and which we will briefly recapitulate for the information of 
 the reader. 
 
 The father of George Staunton had been bred a soldier, 
 and, during service in the West Indies, had married the heiress 
 of a wealthy planter. By this lady he had an only child, George 
 Staunton, the unhappy young man who has been so often 
 mentioned in this narrative. He passed the first part of his 
 early youth under tlie charge of a doting mother, and in the 
 society of negro slaves, whose study it was to gratify his every 
 caprice. His father was a man of worth and sense ; but, as 
 he alone retained tolerable healtli among the officers of the 
 regiment he belonged to, he was much engaged with his duty. 
 Besides, Mrs. Staunton was beautiful and wilful, and enjoyed 
 but delicate health ; so that it was difficult for a man of af- 
 fection, humanity, and a quiet disposition to struggle with her 
 on the point of her over-indulgence to an only child. In- 
 deed, what Mr. Staunton did do towards counteracting the 
 baneful effects of his wife's system, only tended to render it 
 more pernicious ; for every restraint imposed on the boy in his 
 father's presence was compensated by treble license during his 
 absence. So that George Staunton acquired, even in child- 
 hood, the habit of regarding his father as a rigid censor, from 
 whose severity he was desirous of emancipating himself as soon 
 and absolutely as possible. 
 
 When he was about ten years old, and when his mind had 
 received all the seeds of those evil weeds which afterwards 
 grew apace, his mother died, and his father, half heart-broken, 
 returned to England. To sum up her imprudence and un- 
 justifiable indulgence, she had contrived to jjlace a considera- 
 ble part of her fortune at her son's exclusive control or disposal ; 
 in consequence of which management, George Staunton had 
 not been long in England till he learned his independence, and 
 how to abuse it. His father had endeavored to rectify the 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 347 
 
 defects of his education by placing him in a well-regnlated 
 seminary. But although he showed some capacity for learn- 
 ing, his riotous conduct soon became intolerable to his teachers. 
 He found means (too easily afforded to all youths who have 
 certain expectations) of procuring such a command of money 
 as enabled him to anticipate in boyhood the frolics and follies 
 of a more mature age, and, witli these accomplishments, he was 
 returned on his father's hands as a profligate boy, whose ex- 
 ample might ruin a hundred. 
 
 The elder Mr. Staunton^ whose mind, since his wife's 
 death, had been tinged with a melancholy which certainly 
 his son's conduct did not tend to dispel, had taken orders, 
 and was inducted by his brother, Sir William Staunton, into 
 the family living of Willingham. The revenue was a matter 
 of consequence to him, for he derived little advantage from 
 the estate of his late wife ; and his own fortune was that 
 of a younger brother. 
 
 He took his son to reside with him at the rectory ; but he 
 soon found that his disorders rendered him an intolerable 
 inmate. And as the young men of his own rank would not 
 endure the purse-proud insolence of the Creole, he fell into 
 that taste for low society which is worse than " pressing to 
 death, whipping, or hanging." His father sent him abroad, 
 but he only returned wilder and more desperate than before. 
 It is true, this unhappy youth was not without his good 
 qualities. He had lively wit, good temper, reckless generos- 
 ity, and manners which, while he was under restraint, might 
 pass well in society. But all these availed him nothing. He 
 was so well acquainted with the turf, the gaming-table, the 
 cock-pit, and every worse rendezvous of folly and dissipation, 
 that his mother's fortune was spent before he was twenty-one, 
 and he was soon in debt and in distress. His early history may 
 be concluded in the words of our British Juvenal, when de- 
 scribing a similar character : 
 
 Headstrong, determined in his own career, 
 He thought reproof vmjust, and truth severe. 
 The soul's disease was to its crisis come, 
 He first abused and then abjui-ed liis home ; 
 And when he chose a vagabond to be, 
 He made his shame his glory, " I'll be free 1 "* 
 
 '* And yet 'tis pity on Measter George, too," continued th© 
 honest boor, ''for he has an open hand, and winna let a poor 
 body want an he has it." 
 
 * Crabbe's Borough, Letter xii. iLaing). 
 
348 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 The virtue of profuse generosity, by which, indeed, they 
 themselves are most directly advantaged, is readily admitted 
 by the vulgar as a cloak for many sins. 
 
 At Stamford our heroine was deposited in safety by her 
 communicative guide. She obtained a place in the coach, 
 which, although termed a light one, and accommodated with 
 no fewer than six horses, only reached London on the after- 
 noon of the second day. The recommendation of the elder 
 Mr. Staunton procured Jeanie a civil reception at the inn 
 where the carriage stopped, and, by the aid of Mrs. Bicker- 
 ton^s correspondent, she found out her friend and relative 
 Mrs. Glass, by whom she was kindly received and hospitably 
 entertained. 
 
CHAPTER XXXV 
 
 My name is Argyle, you may well think it strange, 
 To live at the court and never to change. 
 
 Ballad. 
 
 Few names deserve more honorable mention in the history of 
 Scotland, during this period, than that of John Duke of Ar- 
 gyle and Greenwich. His talents as a statesman and a soldier 
 were generally admitted ; he was not without ambition, but 
 "without the illness that attends it" — without that irregu- 
 larity of thought and aim which often excites great men, in 
 his peculiar situation (for it was a very peculiar one), to grasp 
 the means of raising themselves to power at the risk of throw- 
 ing a kingdom into confusion. Pope has distinguished him as 
 
 Argyle, the state's whole thunder born to wield, 
 And shake alike the senate and the field. 
 
 He was alike free from the ordinary vices of statesmen, false- 
 hood, namely, and dissimiilation ; and from those of warriors, 
 inordinate and violent thirst after self-aggrandizement. 
 
 Scotland, his native country, stood at this time in a very 
 precarious and doubtful situation. She was indeed united to 
 England, but the cement had not had time to acquire consist- 
 ence. The irritation of ancient wrongs still subsisted, and be- 
 twixt the fretful jealousy of the Scottish and the supercilious 
 disdain of the English, quarrels repeatedly occurred, in the 
 course of which the national league, so important to the safety 
 of both, was in the utmost danger of being dissolved. Scot- 
 land had, besides, the disadvantage of being divided into in- 
 testine factions, which hated each other bitterly, and waited 
 but a signal to break forth into action. 
 
 In such circumstances, another man, with the talents and 
 rank of Argyle, but without a mind so happily regulated, 
 would have sought to rise from the earth in the whirlwind, 
 and direct its fury. He chose a course more safe and more 
 honorable. 
 
 Soaring above the petty distinctions of faction, his voice 
 was raised, whether in office or opposition, for those measures 
 which were at once just and lenient. His high military talents 
 
350 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 enabled him, during the memorable year 1715, to render such 
 services to the house of Hauover as, perhaps, were too great 
 to be either acknowledged or repaid. He had employed, too, 
 his utmost influence in softening the consequences of that in- 
 surrection to the unfortunate gentlemen whom a mistaken 
 sense of loyalty had engaged in the affair, and was rewarded 
 by the esteem and affection of his country in an uncommon 
 degree. This popularity with a discontented and warlike 
 people was supposed to beasubjectof Jealousy at court, where 
 the power to become dangerous is sometimes of itself obnox- 
 ious, though the inclination is not united with it. Besides, 
 the Duke of Argyle's independent and somewhat haughty 
 mode of expressing himself in Parliament, and acting in pub- 
 lic, were ill calculated to attract royal favor. He was, there- 
 fore, always respected, and often employed ; but he was not a 
 favorite of George the Second, his consort, or his ministers. 
 At several different periods in his life, the Duke might be 
 considered as in absolute disgrace at court, although he could 
 hardly be said to be a declared member of opposition. This 
 rendered him the dearer to Scotland, because it was usually 
 in her cause that he incurred the displeasure of his sovereign; 
 and upon this very occasion of the Porteous mob, the animated 
 and eloquent opj^osition which he had offered to the severe 
 measures which were about to be adopted towards the city of 
 Edinburgh was the more gratefully received in that metropo- 
 lis as it was understood that the Duke's interposition had 
 given personal offence to Queen Caroline. 
 
 His conduct upon this occasion, as, indeed, that of all the 
 Scottish members of the legislature, with one or two unworthy 
 exceptions, had been in the highest degree spirited. The 
 popular tradition concerning his reply to Queen Caroline has 
 been given already,Jand some fragments of his speech against 
 the Porteous bill are still remembered. He retorted upoi^. 
 the Chancellor, Lord Hardwicke, the insinuation that he had 
 stated himself in this case rather as a party than as a judge. 
 ^'^I appeal," said Argyle, "to the House — to the nation, if 
 I can be justly branded with the infamy of being a jobber or 
 a partisan. Have I been a briber of votes — a buyer of bor- 
 oughs — the agent of corruption for any purpose, or on be- 
 half of any party ? Consider my life, examine my actions 
 in the field and in the cabinet, and see where there lies a blot 
 that can attach to my honor. I have shown myself the friend 
 of my country, the loyal subject of my king. I am ready to 
 do so again, without an instant's regard to the frowns or 
 smiles of a court. I have experienced both, and am pre- 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN S61 
 
 pared with indifference for either. I have given my reasons 
 for opposing this bill, and have made it appear that it is re- 
 pugnant to the international treaty of nnion, to the liberty 
 of Scotland, and, reflectively, to that of England, to common 
 Justice, to common sense, and to the public interest. Shall 
 the metropolis of Scotland, the capital of an independent 
 nation, the residence of a long line of monarchs, by whom 
 that noble city was graced and dignified — shall such a city, 
 for the fault of an obscure and unknown body of rioters, be 
 deprived of its honors and its privileges, its gates and its 
 guards ? and shall a native Scotsman tamely behold the havoc? 
 I glory, my lords, in opposing such unjust rigor, and reckon 
 it my dearest pride and honor to stand up in defence of my 
 native country, while thus laid open to undeserved shame and 
 unjust spoliation/' 
 
 Other statesmen and orators, both Scottish and English, 
 used the same arguments ; the bill was gradually stripped of 
 its most oppressive and obnoxious clauses, and at length ended 
 in a fine upon the city of Edinburgh in favor of Porteous's 
 widow ; so that, as somebody observed at the time, the whole 
 of these fierce debates ended in making the fortune of an old 
 cook-maid, such having been the good woman's original ca- 
 pacity. 
 
 The court, however, did not forget the baffle they had re- 
 ceived in this affair, and the Duke of Argyle, who had con- 
 tributed so much to it, was thereafter considered as a person in 
 disgrace. It is necessary to place these circumstances under 
 the reader's observation, both because they are connected with 
 the preceding and subsequent part of our narrative. 
 
 The Duke was alone in his study, when one of his gentle- 
 men acquainted him that a country-girl from Scotland was 
 desirous of speaking with his Grace. 
 
 "A country-girl, and from Scotland !" said the Duke; 
 •'what can have brought the silly fool to London? Some 
 lover pressed and sent to sea, or some stock sunk in the South 
 Sea funds, or some such hopeful concern, I suppose, and then 
 nobody to manage the matter but MacCallummore. Well, 
 this same popularity has its inconveniences. However, show 
 our countrywoman up, Archibald ; it is ill manners to keep 
 her in attendance." 
 
 A young woman of rather low stature, and whose counte- 
 nance might be termed very modest and pleasing in expres- 
 sion, though sun-burnt, somewhat freckled, and not possess- 
 ing regular features, was ushered into the splendid library. 
 
352 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 She wore the tartan plaid of her country, adjnsted so as partly 
 to cover her head, and partly to fall back over her shoulders. 
 A quantity of fair hair, disposed with great simplicity and 
 neatness, appeared in front of her round and good-humored 
 face, to which the solemnity of her errand, and her sense of 
 the Duke's rank and importance, gave an appearance of deep 
 awe, but not of slavish fear or fluttered bashfulness. The 
 rest of Jeanie's dress was in the style of Scottish maidens of 
 her own class, but arranged with that scrupulous attention to 
 neatness and cleanliness which we often find united with that 
 purity of mind of which it is a natural emblem. 
 
 She stopped near the entrance of the room, made her deep- 
 est reverence, and crossed her hands unon her bosom, without 
 uttering a syllable. The Duke of Argyle advanced towards 
 her ; and if she admired his graceful deportment and rich 
 dress, decorated with the orders which had been deservedly 
 bestowed on him, his courteous manner, and quick and intelli- 
 gent cast of countenance, he, on his part, was not less, or less 
 deservedly, struck with the quiet simplicity and modesty ex- 
 pressed in the dress, manners, and countenance of his humble 
 countrywoman. 
 
 '• Did you wish to speak with me, my bonny lass ? " said 
 the Duke, using the encouraging epithet which at once acknowl- 
 edged the connection betwixt them as country-folk ; " or did 
 you wish to see the Duchess ? " 
 
 " My business is with your honor, my Lord — I mean your 
 Lordship's Grace.'' 
 
 "And what is it, my good girl ?" said the Duke, in the 
 same mild and encouraging tone of voice. Jeanie looked at 
 the attendant. "Leave us, Archibald," said the Duke, "and 
 wait in the ante-room." The domestic retired. " And now 
 sit down, my good lass," said the Duke ; " take your breath — 
 take your time, and tell me whatyouhavegottosay. I guess 
 by your dress you are just come up from poor old Scotland. 
 Did you come througli tlie streets in your tartan plaid ? " 
 
 "No, sir," said Jeanie ; "a friend brought me in ane o' 
 their street coaches — a very decent woman," she added, her 
 courage increasing as she became familiar with the sound of 
 her own voice in such a presence ; " your Lordship's Grace 
 kens her : it's Mrs. Glass, at the sign o' the Thistle.'' 
 
 " 0, my worthy snuff merchant ! I have always a chat 
 with Mrs. Glass when I purchase my Scotch high-dried. Well, 
 but your business, my bonny woman : time and tide, you 
 know, wait for no one." 
 
 " Your honor — I beg your Lordsiiip's pardon, I mean your 
 
THE HEART OF MTDLOTHTAN 858 
 
 (xrace " — for it must be noticed that this matter of addressing 
 the Duke by his appropriate title had been anxiously inculcated 
 upon Jeanie by her friend Mrs. Glass, in whose eyes it was a 
 matter of such importance that her last words, as Jeanie left 
 the coach were, " Mind to say your Grace ;" and Jeanie, who 
 had scarce ever in her life spoke to a person of higher quality 
 than the Laird of Dumbiedikes, found great difficulty in ar- 
 ranging her language according to the rules of ceremony. 
 
 The Duke, who saw her embarrassment, said, with his 
 usual affability, *' Never mind my Grace, lassie ; just speak out 
 a plain tale, and show you have a Scotch tongue in your head." 
 
 " Sir, I am muckle obliged. Sir, I am the sister of that 
 poor unfortunate criminal, Effie Deans, who is ordered for 
 execution at Edinburgli." 
 
 ''Ah !" said the Duke, ''I have heard of that unhappy 
 story, I think — a case of child-murder, under a special Act of 
 Parliament. Duncan Forbes mentioned it at dinner the other 
 day." 
 
 ^' And I was come up frae the North, sir, to see what could 
 be done for her in the way of getting a reprieve or pardon, sir, 
 or the like of that." 
 
 " Alas ! my poor girl," said the Duke, *'you have made a 
 long and a sad journey to very little purpose. Your sister is 
 ordered for execution." 
 
 "But I am given to understand that there is law for re- 
 prieving her, if it is in the king's pleasure," said Jeanie. 
 
 ''Certainly there is," said the Duke ; "but that is purely 
 in the king's breast. The crime has been but too common; 
 the Scotch crown lawyers think it is right there should be an 
 example. Then the late disorders in Edinburgh luive excited 
 a prejudice in government against the nation at large, which 
 they think can only be managed by measures of intimidation 
 and severity. What argument have you, my poor girl, except 
 the warmth of your sisterly affection to offer against all this ? 
 What is your interest ? What friends have you at court ? " 
 
 " None, excepting God and your Grace," said Jeanie, still 
 keeping her ground resolutely, however. 
 
 "Alas !" said the Duke, "I could almost say with old 
 Ormond, that there could not be any whose influence 'was 
 smaller with kings and ministers. It is a cruel part of our 
 situation, young woman — I mean of the situation of men in 
 my circumstances — that the public ascribe to them influence 
 which they do not possess ; and that individuals are led to ex- 
 pect from them assistance which we liave no means of render- 
 iag. But candor and plain dealing is in the power of everr 
 
854 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 one, and I must not let you imagine you have resources in my 
 
 influence wbicli do not exist, to make your distress the heavier. 
 I have no means of averting your sister's fate. She must die."' 
 
 ''We must a' die, sir," said Jeanie ; "it is our common 
 doom for our fatliers transgression ; but we shouldna liasten 
 ilk other out o' the world, that's what your honor kens better 
 than me." 
 
 " My good young woman," said the Duke, mildly, " we are 
 all apt to blame the law under which we immediately suffer ; 
 but you seem to have been well educated in your line of life, 
 and you must know that it is alike the law of God and man 
 that the murderer shall surely die." 
 
 " But, sir, Effie — that is, my poor sister, sir — canna be 
 proved to be a murderer ; and if she be not, and the law take 
 her life notwithstanding, wha is it that is the murderer then ? " 
 
 ''I am no lawyer," said the Duke ; "and I own I think 
 the statute a very severe one." 
 
 " You are a law-maker, sir, with your leave ; and therefore 
 ye have power over tlie law," answered Jeanie. 
 
 "Not in my individual capacity," said the Duke ; "though, 
 as one of a large body, I have a voice in the legislation. But 
 that cannot serve you ; nor have I at present — I care not who 
 knows it — so much personal influence with the sovereign as 
 would entitle me to ask from him the most insignificant favor. 
 What could tempt you, young woman, to address yourself to 
 me?" 
 
 '^ It was yoursell, sir.'* 
 
 '' Myself ? " he replied. " I am sure you have never seen 
 me before." 
 
 " No, sir ; but &' the world kens that the Duke of Argyle 
 is his country's friend ; and that ye fight for the right, and 
 speak for the right, and that there's nane like you in our 
 present Israel, and so they that think themselves wranged 
 draw to refuge under your shadow ; and if ye wunna stir to 
 save the blood of an innocent countrywoman of your ain, what 
 should we expect frae Southrons and strangers ? And maybe 
 I had another reason for troubling your honor." 
 
 "And what is that ?" asked the Duke. 
 
 "I hae understood from my father that your honor's 
 house, and especially your gu desire and his father, laid down 
 their lives on the scaffold in the persecuting time. And my 
 father was honored to gie his testimony baith in the cage and 
 in the pillory, as is specially mentioned in the books of Pe- 
 ter [Patrick] Walker, the packman, that your honor, I dare 
 say, kens, for he uses maist partly the westland of Scotland. 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 35b 
 
 And, sir, there's ane that takes concern in me that wished me 
 to gang to your Grace's presence, for his gudesire had done 
 your gracious gudesire some good turn, as ye will see frae 
 these papers/' 
 
 With these words, she delivered to the Duke the little 
 parcel whicli she had received from Butler. He opened it, 
 and in the envelope read with some surprise, ''Muster-roll of 
 the men serving in the troop of that godly gentleman, Cap- 
 tain Salathiel Bangtext — Obadiah Muggleton, Sin-Despise 
 Double-knock, Stand-fast-in-faith Gipps, Turn-to-the-right 
 Thwack-away. What the deuce is this ? A list of Praise- 
 God Bareboues' Parliament, I think, or of old Noll's evan- 
 gelical army ; tliat last fellow should understand his wheelings, 
 to judge by his name. But wliat does all this mean, my girl ?'' 
 
 "It was the other paper, sir," said Jeanie, somewhat 
 abashed at the mistake. 
 
 " 0, this is my unfortunate grandfather's hand sure 
 enough : ' To all who may have friendship for the house of 
 Argyle, these are to certify that Benjamin [Stephen] Butler, 
 of Monk's regiment of dragoons, having been, under God, 
 the means of saving my life from four English troopers who 
 were about to slay me, I, having no other present means of 
 recompense in my power, do give him this acknowledgment, 
 hoping that it may be useful to him or his during these 
 troublesome times ; and do conjure my friends, tenants, kins- 
 men, and whoever will do aught for me, either in the Highlands 
 or Lowlands, to protect and assist the said Benjamin [Ste- 
 plien] Butler, and his friends or family, on their lawful oc- 
 casions, giving them such countenance, maintenance, and 
 supply as may correspond with the benefit he hath bestowed 
 on me. Witness my hand — Lorne.' 
 
 '* This is a strong injunction. This Benjamin [Stephen] 
 Butler was your grandfather, I suppose ? You seem too young 
 to have been his daughter." 
 
 "He was nae akin to me, sir ; he was grandfather to ane 
 — to a neighbor's son — to a sincere weel-wisher of mine, sir,'^ 
 dropping her little courtesy as she spoke. 
 
 "0, I understand," said the Duke — "a true-love affair. 
 He was the grandsire of one you are engaged to ? " 
 
 "One I was engaged to, sir," said Jeanie, sighing; *'but 
 this unhappy business of my poor sister " 
 
 " What ! " said the Duke, hastily ; "he has not deserted 
 you on that account, has he ? " 
 
 " No, sir ; he wad be the last to leave a friend in difficul- 
 
356 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 ties," said Jeanie ; " but I mann think for him as weel as for 
 mysell. He is a clergyman, sir, and it would not beseem him 
 to marry the like of me, wi' this disgrace on my kindred." 
 
 ** Yon are a singular young woman," said the Duke. "You 
 seem to me to think of every one before yourself. And have 
 yon really come up from Edinburgh on foot to attempt this 
 hopeless solicitation for your sister's life ?" 
 
 " It was not a'thegither on foot, sir," answered Jeanie ; 
 *' for I sometimes got a cast in a wagon, and I had a horse 
 from Ferrybridge, and then the coach " 
 
 '' Well, never mind all that," interrupted the Duke. 
 *' What reason have you for thinking your sister innocent ? " 
 
 " Because she has not been proved guilty, as will appear 
 from looking at these papers." • 
 
 She put into his hand a note of the evidence and copies 
 of her sister's declaration. These papers Butler had procured 
 after her departure, and Saddletree had them forwarded to 
 London, to Mrs. Glass's care ; so that Jeanie found the docu- 
 ments, so necessary for supporting her suit, lying in readiness 
 at her arrival. 
 
 *' Sit down in that chair, my good girl," said the Duke, 
 ''until I glance over the papers." 
 
 She obeyed, and watched with the utmost anxiety each 
 change in his countenance as he cast his eye through the 
 papers briefly, yet with attention, and making memoranda as 
 he went along. After reading them hastily over, he looked 
 up, and seemed about to speak, yet changed his purpose, as if 
 afraid of committing himself by giving too hasty an opinion, 
 and read over again several passages which he had marked as 
 being most important. All this he did in shorter time than 
 can be supposed by men of ordinary talents ; for his mind 
 was of that acute and penetrating character which discovers, 
 with the glance of intuition, what facts bear on the particu- 
 lar point that chances to be subjected to consideration. At 
 length he rose, after a few minutes' deep reflection. " Young 
 woman," said he, '' your sister's case must certainly be termed 
 a hard one." 
 
 " God bless you, sir, for that very word !" said Jeanie. 
 
 " It seems contrary to the genius of British law," con- 
 tinued the Duke, " to take that for granted which is not 
 proved, or to punish with death for a crime which, for aught 
 the prosecutor has been able to show, may not have been 
 committed at all." 
 
 " God bless you, sir ! " again said Jeanie, who had risen 
 from her seat, and, with clasped hands, eyes glif,tering through 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 357 
 
 tears, and features which trembled with anxiety, drank in 
 every word which the Duke uttered. 
 
 " But, alas ! my poor girl," he continued, '' what good 
 will my opinion do you, unless I could impress it upon those 
 in whose hands your sister's life is placed by the law ? Besides, 
 I am no lawyer ; and I must speak with some of our Scottish 
 gentlemen of the gown about the matter." 
 
 " 0, but, sir, what seems reasonable to your honor will 
 certainly be the same to them," answered Jeanie. 
 
 "I do not know that," replied the Duke; "ilka man 
 buckles his belt his ain gate — you know our old Scotch prov- 
 erb ? But you shall not have placed this reliance on me 
 altogether in vain. Leave these papers with me, and you 
 shall liear from me to-morrow or next day. Take care to be 
 at home at Mrs. Glass's, and ready to come to me at a mo- 
 ment's warning. It will be unnecessary for you to give 
 Mrs. Glass the trouble to attend you ; and, by the by, you 
 will please to be dressed just as you are at present." 
 
 '' I wad liae putten on a cap, sir," said Jeanie, "but your 
 honor kens it isna the fashion of my country for single 
 women ; and I judged that being sae mony hundred miles 
 frae hame, your Grace's heart wad warm to the tartan," look- 
 ing at the corner of her plaid. 
 
 " You judged quite right," said the Duke. " I know the 
 full value of the snood ; and MacCallummore's heart will be as 
 cold as death can make it when it does not warm to the tartan. 
 Now, go away, and don't be out of the way when I send." 
 
 Jeanie replied, " There is little fear of that, sir, for I have 
 little heart to go to see sights amang this wilderness of black 
 houses. But if I might say to your gracious honor, that if 
 ye ever condescend to sjieak to ony ane that is of greater de- 
 gree than yoursell, though maybe it is nae civil in me to say 
 sae, just if you would think there can be nae sic odds between 
 you and them as between poor Jeanie Deans from St, Leonardos 
 and the Duke of Argyle ; and so dinna be chappit back or 
 cast down wi' the first rough answer." 
 
 " I am not apt," said the Duke, laughing, " to mind rough 
 answers much. Do not you hope too much from what I have 
 promised. I will do- my best ; but God has the hearts of 
 kings in His own hand." 
 
 Jeanie courtesied reverently and withdrew, attended by 
 the Duke's gentleman, to her hackney-coach, with a respect 
 which her appearance did not demand, but which was perhaps 
 paid to the length of the interview with which his master liad 
 honored her. 
 
CHAPTER XXXVI 
 
 Ascend, 
 While radiant summer opens all its pride, 
 Thy hill, delightful Shene 1 Here let us sweep 
 The boundless landscape. 
 
 Thomson. 
 
 Prom lier kind and officions, but somewliat gossiping friend, 
 Mrs. Glass, Jeanie underwent a very close catechism on their 
 road to the Strand, where the Thistle of the good lady flour- 
 ished in full glory, and, with its legend of Nemo me impune, 
 distinguished a shop then well known to all Scottish folk of 
 high and low degree. 
 
 " And were you sure aye to say 'Your Grace ' to him ?" 
 said the good old lady ; " for ane should make a distinction 
 between MacCallummore and the bits o^ southern bodies that 
 they ca' lords here : there are as mony o^ them, Jeanie, as 
 would'gar ane think they mauncost but little fash in the mak- 
 ing. Some of them I wadna trust wi' six penniesworth of 
 black rappee ; some of them I wadna gie mysell the trouble to 
 put up a hapnyworth in brown paper for. But I hope you 
 showed your breeding to the Duke of Argyle, for what sort of 
 folk would he think your friends in London, if you had been 
 lording him, and him a duke ? " 
 
 "lie didna seem muckle to mind,** said Jeanie; "he 
 kennVl that I was landward bred.** 
 
 ' ' Weel, weel,** answered the good lady. " His Grace kens 
 me weel ; so I am the less anxious about it. I never fill his 
 snufE-box but he says, 'How d'ye do, good Mrs. Glass ? Hov/ 
 are all our friends in the North ? * or it may be — ' Have ye 
 heard from the North lately ? * And you may be sure I make 
 my best courtesy, and answer, ' My Lord Duke, I hope your 
 Grace's noble Duchess and your Grace's young ladies are well ; 
 and I hope the snuff continues to give your Grace satisfaction.' 
 And then ye will see the people in the shop begin to look about 
 them ; and if there's a Scotchman, as there may be three oi 
 half a dozen, aff go the hats, and mony a look after him, and 
 ' There goes the Prince of Scotland, God bless him ! * But 
 ye have not told me yet the Tery words he said t'ye,*' 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN S.'iO 
 
 Jeanie had no intention to be quite so commnnicative 
 She had, as the reader may have observed, some of the caution 
 and shrewdness, as well as of the simplicity, of iier country. 
 She answered generally, that the Duke had received her very 
 compassionately, and had promised to interest himself in her 
 sister's affair, and to let her hear from him in the course of the 
 next day, or the day after. She did not choose to make any 
 mention of his having desired her to be in readiness to attend 
 him, far less of his hint that she should not bring her land- 
 lady. So that honest Mrs. Glass was obliged to remain sat- 
 isfied with the general intelligence above mentioned, after 
 having done all she could to extract more. 
 
 It may easily be conceived that, on the next day, Jeanie 
 declined all invitations and inducements, whether of exercise 
 or curiosity,|to walk abroad, and continued to inhale the close 
 and somewhat professional atmosphere of Mrs. Glass's small 
 parlor. The latter flavor it owed to a certain cupboard, con- 
 taining, among other articles, a few canisters of real Havana, 
 which, whether from respect to the manufacturer or out of 
 a reverent fear of the exciseman, Mrs. Glass did not care 
 to trust in the open shop below, and which communicated to 
 the room a scent that, however fragrant to the nostrils of the 
 connoisseur, was not very agreeable to those of Jeanie. 
 
 ''Dear sirs," she said to herself, "1 wonder how my 
 cousin's silk manty, and her gowd watch, or onything in the 
 world, can be worth sitting sneezing all her life in this little 
 stifling room, and might walk on green braes if she liked." 
 
 Mrs. Glass was equally surprised at her cousin's reluctance 
 to .stir abroad and her indifference to the fine sights of Lon- 
 don. " It would always help to pass away the time," she 
 said, "to have something to look at, though ane loas in dis- 
 tress." 
 
 But Jeanie was unpersuadable. 
 
 The day after her interview with the Duke was spent in 
 that "•' hope delayed, which maketh the heart sick." Minutes 
 glided after minutes ; hours fled after hours ; it became too late 
 to have any reasonable expectation of hearing from the Duke 
 that day ; yet the hope which she disowned, she could not 
 altogether relinquish, and her heart throbbed, ancl her ears 
 tingled, with every casual sound in the shop below. It was in 
 vain. The day wore away in the anxiety of protracted and 
 fruitless expectation. 
 
 The next morning commenced in the same manner. But 
 before noon a well-dressed gentleman entered Mrs. Glass's 
 shop, and requested to see a young woman from Scotland. 
 
360 WAVERLEY NOVEIS 
 
 "'That will be my cousin, Jeanie Deans, Mr, Archibald/* 
 said Mrs. Glass, with a courtesy of recognizance. " Have yon 
 any message for her from his Grace the Duke of Argyle, Mr. 
 Archibald ? I will carry it to her in a moment." 
 
 "I believe I must give her the trouble of stepping down, 
 Mrs. Glass." 
 
 *'Jeanie — Jeanie Deans ! " said Mrs. Glass, screaming at 
 the bottom of the little staircase, which ascended from the 
 corner of the shop to the higher regions. "Jeanie — Jeanie 
 Deans, I say ! come downstairs instantly ; here is the Duke 
 of Argyle's groom of the chambers desires to see you directly." 
 This was announced in a voice so loud as to make all who 
 chanced to be within hearing aware of the imjjortant com- 
 munication. 
 
 It may easily be supposed that Jeanie did not tarry long in 
 adjusting herself to attend the summons, yet her feet almost 
 failed her as she came downstairs. 
 
 ''I must ask the favor of your company a little way," said 
 Archibald, with civility. 
 
 "I am quite ready, sir," said Jeanie. 
 
 ''Is my cousin going out, Mr. Archibald ? then I willhae 
 to go wi' her, no doubt. James Easper — look to the shop, 
 James. Mr. Archibald," pushing a jar towards him, '* you take 
 his Grace's mixture, I think ? Please to fill your box, for old 
 acquaintance sake, while I get on my things." 
 
 Mr. Archibald transposed a modest parcel of snuff from 
 the jar to his own mull, but said he was obliged to decline the 
 pleasure of Mrs. Glass's company, as his message was particu- 
 larly to tlie young person. 
 
 ''Particularly to the young person!" said Mrs. Glass; 
 *' is not that uncommon, Mr. Archibald ? But his Grace is 
 the best judge; and you are a steady person, Mr. Archibald. 
 It is not every one that comes from a great man's house I would 
 trust my cousin with. But, Jeanie, you must not go through 
 the streets with Mr. Archibald with your tartan what-d'ye- 
 call-it there upon your shoulders, as if you had come up with 
 a drove of Higliland cattle. Wait till I bring down my silk 
 cloak. Why, we'll have the mob after you ! " 
 
 "I have a hackney-coach in waiting, madam," said Mr. 
 Archibald, interrupting the officious old lady, from whom 
 Jeanie might otherwise have found it difficult to escape, "and 
 I believe I must not allow her time for any change of dress." 
 
 So saying, he hurried Jeanie into the coach, while she in- 
 ternally praised and wondered at the easy manner in which he 
 shifted off Mrs. Glass's officious offers and inquiries, without 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 361 
 
 mentioning his master's orders, or going into any explanation 
 whatever. 
 
 On entering the coach, Mr. Archibald seated himself in 
 the front seat, opposite to our lieroine, and they drove on in 
 silence. After they had proceeded nearly half an hour, with- 
 out a word on either side, it occurred to Jeanie that the dis- 
 tance and time did not correspond with that which had been 
 occupied by her journey on the former occasion to and from 
 the residence of tlie Duke of Argyle. At length she could not 
 help asking her taciturn companion, '' Whilk way they were 
 going?" 
 
 " My Lord Duke will inform you himself, madam," an- 
 swered Archibald, with the same solemn courtesy which marked 
 his whole demeanor. Almost as he spoke the hackney-coach 
 drew up, and the coachman dismounted and opened the door. 
 Archibald got out and assisted Jeanie to get down. She found 
 herself in a large turnpike road, without the bounds of Lon- 
 don, upon the other side of which road was drawn up a plain 
 chariot and four horses, the panels without arms, and the serv- 
 ants without liveries. 
 
 " You have been punctual, I see, Jeanie," said the Duke 
 of Argyle, as Archibald opened the carriage door. " You 
 must be my companion for the rest of the way. Archibald 
 will remain liere with the hackney-coach till your return." 
 
 Ere Jeanie could make answer, she found herself, to her 
 no small astonishment, seated by the side of a duke, in a car- 
 riage which rolled forward at a rapid yet smooth rate, very 
 different in both particulars from the lumbering, jolting ve- 
 hicle which she had just left ; and which, lumbering and jolt- 
 ing as it was, conveyed to one who had seldom been in a coach 
 before a certain feeling of dignity and importance. 
 
 "Young woman," said the Duke, " after thinking as at- 
 tentively on your sister's case as is in my power, I continue to 
 be impressed with the belief that great injustice may be done 
 by the execution of her sentence. So are one or two liberal 
 and intelligent lawyers of both countries whom I have spoken 
 with. Nay, pray hear me out before you thank me. I have 
 already told you my jiersohal conviction is of little conse- 
 quence, unless I could impress the same upon others. Now 
 I have done for you what I would certainly not have done to 
 serve any purpose of my own : I have asked an audience of a 
 lady whose interest with the king is deservedly very high. It 
 has been allowed me, and I am desirous that you should see 
 her and speak for yourself. You have no occasion to be 
 abashed ; tell your story simply as you did to me." 
 
363 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 " I am much obliged to your Grace/^ said Jeanie, remem- 
 bering Mrs. Glass's charge ; " audi am sure, since I have had 
 the courage to speak to your Grace in poor Effie^s cause, I have 
 less reason to be shamefaced in speaking to a leddy. Bu t, sir, 
 I would like to ken what to ca' her, whether ' Your Grace,' 
 or 'Your Honor,' or 'Your leddyship,' as we say to lairds 
 and leddies in Scotland, and I will take care to mind it ; for 
 I ken leddies are full mair particular than gentlemen about 
 their titles of honor." 
 
 ''Yon have no occasion to call her anything but ' Madam.' 
 Just say what you think is likely to make the best impression. 
 Look at me from time to time : if I put my hand to my cravat 
 so [showing her the motion], you will stop ; but I shall only 
 do this when you say anything that is not likely to please." 
 
 "But, sir, your Grace," said Jeanie, "if it wasna ower 
 muckle trouble, wad it no be better to tell me what I should 
 say, and I could get it by heart ?" 
 
 " No, Jeanie, that would not have the same effect : that 
 would be like reading a sermon, you know, which we good 
 Presbyterians think has less unction than when spoken with- 
 out book," replied the Duke. "Just speak as plainly and 
 boldly to this lady as you did to me the day before yesterday ; 
 and if you can gain her consent, I'll wad ye a plack, as we say 
 in the North, that you get the pardon from the king." 
 
 As he spoke he took a pamphlet from his pocket and began 
 to read. Jeanie had good sense and tact, which constitute 
 betwixt them that which is called natural good-breeding. She 
 interpreted the Duke's manoeuvre as a hint that she was to 
 ask no more questions, and she remained silent accordingly. 
 
 The carriage rolled rapidly onward through fertile meadows 
 ornamented with splendid old oaks, and catching occasionally 
 a glance of the majestic mirror of a broad and placid river. 
 After passing through a pleasant village, the equipage stopped 
 on a commanding eminence, where tlie beauty of English land- 
 scape was displayed in its utmost luxuriance. Here the Duke 
 alighted, and desired Jeanie to follow him. They paused for 
 a moment on the brow of a hill, to gaze on the unrivalled 
 landscape which it presented. A huge sea of verdure, with 
 crossing and intersecting promontories of massive and tufted 
 groves, was tenanted by numberless flocks and herds, which 
 seemed to wander unrestrained and unbounded through the 
 rich pastures. The Thames, here turreted with villas and 
 there garlanded with forests, moved on slowly and placidly 
 like the mighty monarch of the scene, to whom all its other 
 beauties were but accessories, and bore on his bosom a hundred 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 868 
 
 barks and skiffs, whose white sails and gayly fluttering pen- 
 nons gave life to the whole. 
 
 The Duke of Argyle was, of course, familiar with this 
 scene ; but to a man of taste it must be. always new. Yet, as 
 he paused and looked on this inimitable landscape with the 
 feeling of delight which it must give to the bosom of every 
 admirer of nature, his thoughts naturally reverted to his own 
 more grand, and scarce less beautiful, domains of Inverary. 
 " This is a fine scene, ^' he said to his companion, curious, 
 perhaps, to draw out her sentiments; "we have nothing like 
 it in Scotland." 
 
 " It's braw rich feeding for the cows, and they have a fine 
 breed o' cattle here," replied Jeanie ; ''but I like just as weel 
 to look at the craigs of Arthur's Seat, and the sea coming in 
 ayont them, as at a' thae muckle trees." 
 
 The Duke smiled at a reply equally professional and na- 
 tional, and made a signal for the carriage to remain where it 
 was. Then adopting an unfrequented footpath, he conducted 
 Jeanie through several complicated mazes to a postern-door 
 in a high brick wall. It was shut ; but as the Duke tapped 
 slightly at it, a person in waiting within, after reconnoitring 
 through a small iron grate contrived for the purpose, unlocked 
 the door and admitted them. They entered, and it was im- 
 mediately closed and fastened behind them. This was all 
 done quickly, the door so instantly closing, and the person 
 who opened it so suddenly disappearing, that Jeanie could 
 not even catch a glimpse of his exterior. 
 
 They found themselves at the extremity of a deep and nar- 
 row alley, carpeted with the most verdant and close-shaven 
 turf, which felt like velvet under their feet, and screened from 
 the sun by the branches of the lofty elms which united over 
 the path, and caiased it to resemble, in the solemn obscurity 
 of the light which they admitted, as well as from the range 
 of columnar stems, and intricate union of their arclied 
 branches, one of the narrow side aisles in an ancient Gothic 
 cathedral. 
 
CHAPTER XXXVII 
 
 I beseech you ; 
 These tears beseech you, and these chaste hands woo you, 
 That never yet were heaved but to tilings holy — 
 Things Hke yourself. You are a God above us ; 
 Be as a God, then, full of sav ing mercy ! 
 
 The Bloody Brother. 
 
 E]S"COUEAGED as slie was by the courteous manners of her 
 noble countryman, it was not without a feeling of something 
 like terror that Jeanie felt herself in a place apparently so 
 lonely, with a man of such high rank. That she should have 
 been permitted to wait on the Duke in his own house, and 
 have been there received to a private interview, was in itself an 
 uncommon and distinguished event in the annals of a life so 
 simple as liers ; but to find herself his travelling companion 
 in a journey, and then suddenly to be left alone with him in 
 so secluded a situation, had something in it of awful mystery. 
 A romantic heroine might have suspected and dreaded the 
 power of her own charms ; but Jeanie was too wise to let such 
 a silly thought intrude on her mind. Still, however, she had 
 a most eager desire to know where she now was, and to whom 
 she was to be presented. 
 
 She remarked that the Duke's dress, though still such as 
 iudicated rank and fashion (for it was not the custom of men 
 of quality at that time to dress themselves like their own coach- 
 men or grooms) was nevertheless plainer than that in which 
 she had seen him upon a former occasion, and was divested, 
 in particular, of all those badges of external decoration which 
 intimated superior consequence. In short, he was attired as 
 plainly as any gentleman of fashion could appear in the streets 
 of London in a morning ; and this circumstance helped to 
 shake an opinion which Jeanie began to entertain, that jjer- 
 haps he intended she should plead her cause in the presence 
 of royalty itself. " But, surely," said she to herself, " he wad 
 hae putten on his braw star and garter, an he had thought o' 
 coming before the face of Majesty ; and after a', this is mair 
 like a gentleman's policy than a royal palace." 
 
 There «yas some sense in Jeanie's reasoning ; yet she was 
 
 864 
 
TEE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 365 
 
 not sufficiently mistress either of the circumstances of eti- 
 quette, or the jjarticular relations which existed betwixt the 
 government and the Duke of Argyle, to form an accurate 
 judgment. The Duke, as we have said, was at this time in 
 open opposition to the administration of Sir Robert Walpole, 
 and was understood to be out of favor witli the royal family, 
 to whom he had rendered such important services. But it was 
 a maxim of Queen Caroline to bear herself towards her polit- 
 ical friends with such caution as if there was a possibility of 
 their one day being her enemies, and towards political oppo- 
 nents with the same degree of circumspection, as if they might 
 again become friendly to her measures. Since Margaret of 
 Anjou, no queen-consort had exercised such weight in the 
 })olitical aff':iirs of England, and the personal address which 
 she displayed on many occasions had no small share in reclaim- 
 ing from their political heresy many of those determined 
 Tories wliO, after the reign of the Stuarts had been extin- 
 guished in the person of Queen Anne, were disposed rather 
 to transfer their allegiance to her brother, the Chevalier de 
 St. George, than to acquiesce in the settlement of the crown 
 on the Hanover family. Her husband, whose most shining 
 quality was courage in the field of battle, and who endured 
 the office of King of England without ever being able to ac- 
 quire English habits, or any familiarity with English disposi- 
 tions, found the utmost assistance from the address of his 
 partner ; and while he jealously affected to do everything ac- 
 cording to his own will and pleasure, was in secret prudent 
 enough to take and follow the advice of his more adroit con- 
 sort. He intrusted to her the delicate office of determining 
 the various degrees of favor necessary to attach the wavering, 
 or to confirm such as were already friendly, or to regain those 
 whose good will had been lost. 
 
 With all the winning address of an elegant, and, according 
 to the times, an accomplished woman. Queen Caroline pos- 
 sessed the masculine soul of the other sex. She was proud 
 by nature, and even her policy could not always temper her 
 expressions of displeasure, although few were more ready at 
 repairing any false step of this kind, when her prudence came 
 up to the aid of her passions. She loved the real possession 
 of power rather than the show of it, and whatever she did her- 
 self that was either wise or popular she always desired that 
 the king should have the full credit as well as the advantage 
 of the measure, conscious that, by adding to his respecta- 
 bility, she was most likely to maintain her own. And so 
 desi^-ous was she to comply with all his tastes, that, when 
 
806 WAVERLET NOVELS 
 
 threatened with the gout, she had repeatedly had recourse to 
 checking the fit by the use of the cold bath, thereby endan- 
 gering her life, that she might be able to attend the king in 
 his walks. 
 
 It was a very consistent part of Queen Caroline's charac- 
 ter to keep up many private correspondences with those to 
 whom in public she seemed unfavorable, or who, for various 
 reasons, stood ill with the court. By this means she kept in 
 her hands the thread of many a political intrigue, and, with- 
 out pledging herself to anything, could often prevent discon- 
 tent from becoming hatred and opposition from exaggerating 
 itself into rebellion. If by any accident her correspondence 
 with such persons chanced to be observed or discovered, which 
 she took all possible pains to prevent, it was represented as a 
 mere intercourse of society, having no reference to politics ; 
 an answer with which even the prime minister, Sir Kobert 
 Walpole, was compelled to remain satisfied, when he discov- 
 ered that the Queen had given a private audience to Pulteney, 
 afterwards Earl of Bath, his most formidable and most invet- 
 erate enemy. 
 
 In thus maintaining occasional intercourse with several 
 persons who seemed most alienated from the crown, it may 
 readily be supposed that Queen Caroline had taken care not 
 to break entirely with the Duke of Argyle. His high birth- 
 his great talents, the estimation in which he was held in his 
 own country, the great services which he had rendered the 
 house of Brunswick in 1715, placed him high in that rank of 
 persons who were not to be rashly neglected. He had, almost 
 by his single and unassisted talents, stopped the irruption of 
 the banded force of all the Highland chiefs ; there was little 
 doubt that, with the slightest encouragement, he could put 
 them all in motion and renew the civil war ; and it was well 
 known that the most flattering overtures had been transmit- 
 ted to the Duke from the court of St. Germains. The char- 
 acter and temper of Scotland were still little known, and it 
 was considered as a volcano which might, indeed, slumber for 
 a series of years, but was still liable, at a moment the least ex- 
 pected, to break out into a wasteful eruption. It was there- 
 fore of the highest importance to retain some hold over so 
 important a personage as the Duke of Argyle, and Caroline 
 preserved the power of doing so by means of a lady with 
 whom, as wife of George II., she might have been supposed 
 to be on less intimate terms. 
 
 It was not the least instance of the Queen's address that 
 she had contrived that one of her principal attendants. Lady 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 367 
 
 Suffolk, should upifce in lier own person the two apparently 
 inconsistent characters of her husband's mistress and her own 
 very obsequious and complaisant confidante. By this dexter- 
 ous management the Queen secured her power against the 
 danger which might most have threatened it — the thwarting 
 influence of an ambitious rival ; cind if she submitted to the 
 mortification of being obliged to connive at her husband's in- 
 fidelity, she was at least guarded against what she might think 
 its most dangerous effects, and was besides at liberty now and 
 then to bestow a few civil insults upon " her good Howard,'' 
 whom, however, in general, slie treated with great decorum.* 
 Lady Suffolk lay under strong obligations to the Duke of Ar- 
 gyle, for reasons which may be collected from Horace Wal- 
 pole's Eeminiscences of that reign, and through her means 
 the Duke had some occasional corresjoondence with Queen 
 Caroline, much interrupted, however, since the part he had 
 taken in the debate concerning the Porteous mob, an affair 
 which the Queen, though somewhat unreasonably, was dis- 
 posed to resent rather as an intended and premeditated inso- 
 lence to her own person and authority than as a sudden 
 ebullition of popular vengeance. Still, however, the com- 
 munication remained open betwixt them, though it had been 
 of late disused on both sides. These remarks will be found 
 necessary to understand the scene which is about to be pre- 
 sented to the reader. 
 
 From the narrow alley which they had traversed, the Duke 
 turned into one of the same character, but broader and still 
 longer. Here, for the first time since they had entered these 
 gardens, Jeanie saw jDcrsons approaching them. 
 
 They were two ladies, one of whom walked a little behind 
 the other, yet not so much as to prevent her from hearing and 
 replying to whatever observation was addressed to her by the 
 lady who walked foremost, and that without her having the 
 trouble to turn her person. As they advanced very slowly, 
 Jeanie had time to study their features and appearance. The 
 Duke also slackened his pace, as if to give her time to collect 
 herself, and repeatedly desired her not to be afraid. The lady 
 who seemed the principal person had remarkably good features, 
 though somewhat injured by the small-pox, that venomous 
 scourge which each village Esculapius (thanks to Jenner) can 
 now tame as easily as their tutelary deity subdued the python. 
 The lady's eyes were brilliant, her teeth good, and her counte- 
 nance formed to express at will either majesty or courtesy. 
 Her form, though rather emhonpoint, was nevertheless grace- 
 
 * See Horace Walpole's Reviiniscences. 
 
368 WAVERLEY NOVELS * , ' 
 
 ful ; and the elasticity and firmness of her step gave no room 
 to suspect, what was actually the case, that she suffered oc- 
 casionally from a disorder the most unfavorable to pedestrian 
 exercise. Her dress was rather rich than gay, and her man- 
 ner commanding and noble. 
 
 _:^3r companion was of lower stature, with light brown hair 
 and expressive blue eyes. Her features, v/ithout being ab- 
 solutely regular, were perhaps more pleasing than if they had 
 been critically handsome. A melancholy, or at least a pensive, 
 expression, for which her lot gave too much cause, predomi- 
 nated when she was silent, but gave way to a pleasing and 
 good-humored smile when she spoke to any one. 
 
 When they were with.in twelve or fifteen yards of these 
 ladies, the Duke made a sign that Jeanie should stand still, 
 and stepping forward himself, with the grace whicli was nat- 
 ural to him, made a profound obeisance, which was formally, 
 yet in a dignified manner, returned by the personage whom 
 he approached. 
 
 " I hope," she said, with an affable and condescending 
 smile, " that I see so great a stranger at court as the Duke of 
 Argyle has been of late in as good health as his friends there 
 and elsewhere could wish him to enjoy." 
 
 The Duke replied, "That he had been perfectly well ;" 
 and added, " that the necessity of attending to the public busi- 
 ness before the House, as well as the time occupied by a late 
 journey to Scotland, had rendered him less assiduous in pay- 
 ing his duty at the levee and drawing-room tlian he could 
 have desired." 
 
 " "When your Grace can find time for a duty so frivolous," 
 replied the Queen, "you are aware of your title to be well re- 
 ceived. I hope my readiness to comply with the wish which 
 you expressed yesterday to Lady Suffolk is a sufficient proof 
 that one of the royal family, at least, has not forgotten ancient 
 and important services, in resenting something which resem- 
 bles recent neglect." This was said apparently with great 
 good-humor, and in a tone which expressed a desire of con- 
 ciliation. 
 
 The Duke replied, " That he would account himself the 
 most unfortunate of men, if he could be supposed capable of 
 neglecting his duty, in modes and circumstances when it was 
 expected and would have been agreeable. He was deeply 
 gratified by the honor which her Majesty was now doing to 
 him personally ; and he trusted she would soon perceive that 
 it was in a matter essential to his Majesty's interest that he 
 had the boldness to give her this trouble." 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 366 
 
 *'YoTi cannot oblige me more, my Lord Duke/' replied 
 the Queen, " than by giving me the advantage of your lights 
 and experience on any point of the King's service. Your 
 Grace is aware that I can only be tlie medium through which 
 the matter is subjected to his Majesty's superior wisdom ; but 
 if it is a suit which respects your Grace personally, it shall 
 lose no support by being preferred tlirough me." 
 
 "It is no suit of mine, madam," replied the Duke ; "nor 
 have I any to prefer for myself personally, although I feel in 
 full force my obligation to your Majesty. It is a business 
 which concerns his Majesty, as a lover of justice and of mercy, 
 and which, I am convinced, may be highly useful in conciliat- 
 ing the unfortunate irritation which at present subsists among 
 his Majesty's good subjects in Scotland." 
 
 There were two parts of this speech disagreeable to Caro- 
 line. In the first place, it removed the flattering notion she 
 had adopted, that Argyle designed to use her personal inter- 
 cession in making his peace with the administration, and re- 
 covering the employments of which he had been deprived ; 
 and next, she was displeased that he should talk of the dis- 
 contents in Scotland as irritations to be conciliated, rather 
 than suppressed. 
 
 Under the influence of these feelings, she answered hastily, 
 " That his Majesty has good subjects in England, my Lord 
 Duke, he is bound to thank God and the laws ; that he has 
 subjects in Scotland, I think he may thank God and his 
 sword." 
 
 The Duke, though a courtier, colored slightly, and the 
 Queen, instantly sensible of her error, added, without display- 
 ing the least change of countenance, and as if the words had 
 been an original branch of the sentence — "And the swords of 
 those real Scotchmen who are friends to the house of Bruns- 
 wick, particularly that of his Grace of Argyle." 
 
 " My sword, madam," replied the Duke, " like that of my 
 fathers, has been always at the command of my lawful king 
 and of my native country : I trust it is impossible to separate 
 their real rights and interests. But the present is a matter of 
 more private concern, and respects the person of an obscure 
 individual." 
 
 "What is the affair, my Lord ?" said the Queen. "Let 
 us find out what we are talking about, lest we should miscon- 
 etme and misunderstand each other." 
 
 *' The ma:ter, madam," answered the Duke of Argyle, 
 "regards the fate of an unfortunate young woman in Scot- 
 land, now lying under sentence of death, for a crime of which 
 
370 WAVERLET NOVELS 
 
 I think it highly probable that she is innocent. And my 
 hiimble petition to your Majesty is, to obtain your powerful 
 intercession with the King for a pardon." 
 
 It was now the Queen's turn to color, and she did so over 
 cheek and brow, neck and bosom. She paused a moment, as 
 if unwilling to trust her voice with the lirst expression of her 
 displeasure ; and on assuming an air of dignit}- and an austere 
 regard of control, she at length replied, "My Lord Duke, I 
 will not ask your motives for addressing to me a request which 
 circumstances have rendered such an extraordinary one. Your 
 road to the King's closet, as a peer and a privy-councillor, 
 entitled to reqiiest an audience, was open, without giving me 
 the pain of this discussion. /, at least, have had enough of 
 Scotch pardons." 
 
 The Duke was prepared for this burst of indignation, and 
 he was not shaken by it. He did not attempt a reply while 
 the Queen was in the first heat of displeasure, but remained 
 in the same firm yet respectful posture which he had assumed 
 during the interview. The Queen, trained from her situation 
 to self-command, instantly perceived the advantage she might 
 give against herself by yielding to passion; and added, in the 
 same condescending and affable tone in which she had opened 
 the interview, "You must allow me some of the privileges of 
 the sex, my Lord; and do not judge im charitably of me, 
 though I am a little moved at the recollection of the gross in- 
 sult and outrage done in your capital city to the royal author- 
 ity, at the very time when it was vested in my unworthy per- 
 son. Your Grace cannot be surprised that I should both have 
 felt it at the time and recollected it now." 
 
 " It is certainly a matter not speedily to be forgotten," an- 
 swered the Duke. "My own poor thoughts of it have been 
 long before your Majesty, and I must have expressed myself 
 very ill if I did not convey my detestation of the murder which 
 was committed under such extraordinary circumstances. I 
 might, indeed, be so unfortunate as to differ with his Majes- 
 ty's advisers on the degree in which it was either just or pol- 
 itic to punish the innocent instead of the guilty. But I trust 
 your Majesty will permit me to be silent on a topic in which 
 my sentiments have not the good fortune to coincide with 
 those of more able men." 
 
 " We will not prosecute a topic on which we may probably 
 differ," said the Queen. " One word, however, I may say in 
 private — you know our good Lady Suffolk is a little deaf — 
 the Duke of Argyle, when disposed to renew his acquaintance 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN. 371 
 
 with his master and mistress, will hardly find many topics on 
 which we should disagree." 
 
 " Let me hope/' said the Duke, bowing profoundly to so 
 flattering an intimation, " that I shall not bo so unfortunate 
 as to have found one on the present occasion." 
 
 " I must first impose on your Grace the duty of confession," 
 said the Queen, " before I grant you absolution. What is 
 your particular interest in this young woman ? She does not 
 seem [and she scanned Jeanie, as she said this, with the eye of 
 a connoisseur] much qualified to alarm my friend the Duch- 
 ess's jealousy." 
 
 ''I think your Majesty," replied the Duke, smiling in his 
 turn, " will allow my taste may be a pledge for me on that 
 score.'" 
 
 "Then, though she has not much the air d'une grande 
 dame, I suppose she is some thirtieth cousin in the terrible 
 f^hapter of Scottish genealogy ? " 
 
 " No, madam," said the Duke ; " but I wish some of my 
 nearer relations had half her worth, honesty, and affection." 
 
 " Her name must be Campbell, at least ? " said Queen Car- 
 oline. 
 
 "No, madam ; her name is not quite so distinguished, if I 
 may be permitted to say so," answered the Duke. 
 
 " Ah ! but she comes from Inverary or Argyleshire ?'* 
 said the Sovereign. 
 
 " She has never been further north in her life than Edin- 
 burgh, madam." 
 
 " Then my conjectures are all ended," said the Queen, " and 
 your Grace must yourself take the trouble to explain the af- 
 fair of your joro^fe^ee." 
 
 With that precision and easy brevity which is only acquired 
 by habitually conversing in the higher ranks of society, and 
 which is the diametrical opposite of that protracted style of 
 disquisition 
 
 Which squires call potter, and which men call prose, 
 
 the Duke explained the singular law under which Efiie Deans 
 had received sentence of death, and detailed the affectionate 
 exertions which Jeanie had made in behalf of a sister for whose 
 sake she was willing to sacrifice all but truth and conscience. 
 Queen Caroline listened with attention ; she was rather fond, 
 it must be remembered, of an argument, and soon found mat- 
 ter in what the Duke told her for raising difficulties to hig re- 
 quest. 
 
37a WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 *'It appears to me, my Lord/^ she replied, ''that this is 
 a severe law. But still it is adopted upon good grounds, I am 
 bound to suppose, as the law of the country, and the girl has 
 been convicted under it. The very presumptions which the 
 law construes into a positive proof of guilt exist in her case ; 
 and all tliat your Grace has said concerning the possibility of 
 her innocence may be a very good argument for annulling the 
 Act of Parliament, but cannot, while it stands good, be ad- 
 mitted in favor of any individual convicted upon the statute.'" 
 
 The Duke saw and avoided the snare ; for he was conscious 
 that, by replying to the argument, he must have been inevita- 
 bly led to a discussion, in the course of wliich the Queen was 
 likely to be hardened in her own opinion, until she became 
 obliged, out oi mere respect to consistency, to let the crim- 
 inal suffer. '^If your Majesty," he said, " would condescend 
 to hear my poor countrywoman herself, perhaps she may find 
 an advocate in your own heart more able than I am to combat 
 the doubts suggested by your understanding." 
 
 The Queen seemed to acquiesce, and the Duke made a signal 
 for Jcanie to advance from the spot where she had hitherto 
 remained watching countenances wliich were too long ac- 
 customed to suppress all apparent signs of emotion to convey 
 to her any interesting intelligence. Her Majesty could not 
 help smiling at the awe-struck manner in which the quiet, 
 demure figure of the little Scotchwoman advanced towards 
 her, and yet more at the first sound of her broad northern 
 accent. But Jeanie had a voice low and sweetly toned, an 
 admirable tiling in woman, and eke besought " her Leddyship 
 to liave pity on a poor misguided young creature," in tones so 
 affecting that, like the notes of- some of her native songs, 
 provincial vulgarity was lost in pathos. 
 
 "Stand up, young woman," caid the Queen, but in a kind 
 tone, " and tell me wliat sort of a barbarous people your coun- 
 try-folk are, where ch:l-.-murder is become so common as to 
 require the restraint of laws like yours ? " 
 
 " If your Loddyshi]^- pleases," answered Jeanie, " there are 
 "mony places beside Scotland where mothers are unkind to 
 their ain flesh, and blood." 
 
 It must be observed, that the disputes between^George the 
 Second and Frederick, Prince of Wales, were then at the 
 highest, and that the good-natured part of the public laid the 
 blame on the Queen. She colored highly, and darted a glance 
 of a most penetrating character firetat Jeanie and thcr. t the 
 Duke. Both sustained it unmoved — Jeanie from totvl uncon- 
 sciousness of the offence she had given, and the Duke from 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 373 
 
 his habitual composure. But in his heart he thought, ''My 
 unlucky protegee lias, with this luckless answer, shot dead, 
 by a kind of chance-medley, her only hope of success." 
 
 Lady Suffolk good-humoredly and skilfully interposed in 
 this awkward crisis. " You should tell this lady," she said to 
 Jeanie, " the particular causes which render this crime com- 
 mon in your country." 
 
 ''Some thinks it's the kirk-session ; that is, it's the — it^s 
 the cutty-stool, if your Leddyship pleases," said Jeanie, look- 
 ing down and courtesying. 
 
 " The what ?" said Lady Suffolk, to whom the phrase was 
 new, and who besides was rather deaf. 
 
 " That's the stool of repentance, madam, if it please your 
 Leddyship," answered Jeanie, "for light life and conversa- 
 tion, and for breaking the seventh command." Here she 
 raised her eyes to the Duke, saw his hand at his chin, and, 
 totally unconscious of what she had said out of joint, gave 
 double effect to the innuendo by stoj^ping short and looking 
 embarrassed. 
 
 As for Lady Suffolk, she retired like a covering party 
 which, having interposed betwixt their retreating friends and 
 the enemy, have suddenly drawn on themselves a fire unex- 
 pectedly severe. 
 
 " The deuce take the lass," thought the Duke of Argyle to 
 himself ; "■ there goes another shot, and she has hit with both 
 barrels right and left ! " 
 
 Lideed, the Duke had himself his share of the confusion, 
 for, having acted as master of ceremonies to this innocent of- 
 fender, he felt much in the circumstances of a country squire 
 who, having introduced his spaniel into a well-appointed draw- 
 ing-room, is doomed to witness the disorder and damage which 
 arises to china and to dress-gowns in consequence of its un- 
 timely frolics. Jeanie's last chance-hit, however, obliterated 
 the ill impression which had arisen from the first ; for her 
 Majesty had not so lost the feelings of a M'ife in those of a 
 Queen but that she could enjoy a jest at the expense of "her 
 good Suffolk." She turned towards the Duke of Argyle with a 
 smile, which marked that she enjoyed the triumph, anci ob- 
 served, "The Scotch are a rigidly moral people." Then again 
 applying herself to Jeanie, she asked how she travelled up from 
 Scotland. 
 
 " L^pon my foot mostly, madam," was the reply. 
 
 "What, all that immense way upon foot ? How far can 
 you walk in a day ?" 
 
 "t'ive-and-twonty miles and a bittock." 
 
374 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 " And a what ? " said the Queen, looking towards the Duke 
 of Argyle. 
 
 " And about five miles more/' replied the Duke. 
 
 **I thought I was a good walker/' said the Queen, ''but 
 this shames me sadly." 
 
 " May your Leddyship never hae sae weary a heart that ye 
 canna be sensible of the weariness of the limbs ! " said Jeanie. 
 
 '' That came better off," thought the Duke ; " it's the first 
 thing she has said to the purpose.", 
 
 ''And I didna just a'thegither walk the haill way neither, 
 for I had whiles the cast of a cart ; and I had the cast of a 
 horse from Ferrybridge, and divers other easements," said 
 Jeanie, cutting short her story, for she observed the Duke 
 made the sign he had fixed upon. 
 
 " With all these accommodations," answered the Queen, 
 " you must have had a very fatiguing journey, and, I fear, to 
 little purpose ; since, if the King were to pardon your sister, in 
 all probability it would do her little good, for I suppose your 
 people of Edinburgh would hang her out of spite." 
 
 " She will sink herself now outright," thought the Duke. 
 
 But he was wrong. The shoals on which Jeanie had touched 
 in this delicate conversation lay underground, and were un- 
 known to her ; this rock was above water, and she avoided it. 
 
 "She was confident," she said, " that baith town and coun- 
 try wad rejoice to see his Majesty taking compassion on a poor 
 vinfriended creature." 
 
 " His Majesty has not found it so in a late instance," said 
 the Queen ; " but I suppose my Lord Duke would advise him 
 to be guided by the votes of the rabble themselves who should 
 be hanged and who spared ? " 
 
 " No, madam/' said the Duke ; " but I would advise his 
 Majesty to be guided by his own feelings, and those of his 
 royal consort ; and then, I am sure, punishment will only 
 attach itself to guilt, and even tben with cautious reluc- 
 tance." 
 
 " Well, my Lord," said her Ma j ;sty, " all these fine speeches 
 do not convince me of the propriety of so soon showing any 
 mark of favor to your — I suppose I must not say rebellious ? 
 — but, at least, your very disaffected and intractable metrop- 
 olis. Why, the whole nation is in a league to screen the sav- 
 age and abominable murderers of that unhappy man ; other- 
 wise, how is it possible but that, of so many perpetrators, and 
 engaged in so public an action for such a length of time, one 
 at least mast have been recognized ? Even this wench, foi* 
 anght I can tell, may be a depository of the secret. Hark 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 378 
 
 y^«, yoang woman, had yon any friends engaged in the Por- 
 teous mob ? " 
 
 " No, madam," answered Jeanie, happy that the question 
 was so framed that she could, with a good conscience, answer 
 it in the negative, 
 
 " But I suppose," continued the Queen, "if you were pos- 
 sessed of such a secret you would hold it matter of conscience 
 to keep it to yourself ? " 
 
 " I would pray to be directed and guided what was the 
 line of duty, madam," answered Jeanie. 
 
 "Yes, and take that which suited your own inclinations," 
 replied her Majesty. 
 
 " If it like you, madam," said Jeanie, "I would hae gaen 
 to the end of the earth to save the life of John Porteous, or 
 any other unhappy man in his condition ; but I might law- 
 fully doubt how far I am called upon to be the avenger of his 
 blood, though it may become the civil magistrate to do so. 
 He is dead and gane to his place, and they that have slain 
 him must answer for their ain act. But my sister — my puir 
 sister Effie, still lives, though her days and hours are num- 
 bered ! She still lives, and a word of the King's mouth 
 might restore her to a broken-hearted auld man, that never, 
 in his daily and nightly exercise, forgot to pray that his Maj- 
 esty might be blessed with a long and a prosperous reign, and 
 that his throne, and the throne of his posterity, might be es- 
 tablished in rigliteousness. 0, madam, if ever ye kenn'd 
 what it w^as to sorrow for and wdth a sinning and a suffering 
 creature, whose mind is sae tossed that she can be neither 
 ca'd fit to live or die, have some compassion on our misery ! 
 Save an honest house from dishonor, and an unhappy girl, 
 not eighteen years of age, from an early and dreadful death ! 
 Alas ! it is not when we sleep soft and wake merrily ourselves, 
 that we think on other people's sufferings. Our hearts are 
 waxed light within us then, and we are for righting our ain 
 wrangs and fighting our ain battles. But when the hour of 
 trouble comes to the mind or to the body — and seldom may 
 it visit your Leddyship — and when the hour of death comes, 
 that comes to high and low — lang and late may it be yours — 
 0, my Leddy, then it isna what we hae dune for oursells, but 
 what we hae dune for others, that we think on maist pleas- 
 antly. And the thoughts that ye hae intervened to spare the 
 puir thing's life will be sweeter in that hour, come when it 
 may, than if a word of your mouth could hang the haill Por- 
 teous mob at the tail of ae tow." 
 
 Tear followed tear down Jeanie's cheeks, as, her features 
 
376 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 glowing and quivering with emotion, she pleaded her sister's 
 cause with a pathos which was at once simple and solemn. 
 
 " This is eloquence," said her Majesty to the Duke of 
 Argyle. " Young woman," she continued, addressing herself 
 to Jeanie, *'/ cannot grant a pardon to your sister, but you 
 shall not want my warm intercession with his Majesty. Take 
 this housewife case," she continued, putting a small embroi- 
 dered needle-case into Jeanie's hands ; '^' do not open it now, 
 but at your leisure you will find something in it which will re- 
 mind you that you have had an interview with Queen Caro- 
 line."" 
 
 Jeanie, having her suspicions thus confirmed, dropped on 
 her knees, and would have expanded herself in gratitude ; but 
 the Duke, who was upon thorns lest she should say more or 
 less than just enough, toucbed his chin once more. 
 
 " Our business is, I think, ended for the present, my 
 Lord Duke," said the Queen, " and, I trust, to your satisfac- 
 tion. Hereafter, I hope to see your Grace more frequently, 
 both at Richmond and St. James's. Come, Lady Suffolk, 
 we must wish his Grace good morning." 
 
 They exchanged their parting reverences, and the Duke, 
 so soon as the ladies had turned their backs, assisted Jeanie 
 to rise from the ground, and conducted her back througli the 
 avenue, which she trod with the feeling of one who walks in 
 h«r sleep. 
 
CHAPTER XXXVIII 
 
 So soon as I can win the offended King, 
 I will be known your advocate. 
 
 Cymbeline. 
 
 'L^HE Dnke of Argyle led the way in silence to the small postern 
 by which they had been admitted into Richmond Park, so long 
 the favorite residence of Queen Caroline. It was opened by 
 the same half-seen janitor, and they found themselves beyond 
 the precincts of the royal demesn e. Still not a word was spoken 
 on either side. The Duke probably wished to allow his rustic 
 protegee time to recruit her faculties, dazzled and sunk with 
 colloquy sublime : and betwixt what she had guessed, had 
 heard, and had seen, Jeanie Deans's mind was too much agi- 
 tated to permit her to ask any questions. 
 
 They found the carriage of the Duke in the place where 
 they had left it ; and when they resumed their places, soon 
 began to advance rapidly on their ]-eturn to town. 
 
 "I think, Jeanie," said the Duke, breaking silence, ''you 
 have every reason to congratulate yourself on the issue of your 
 interview with her Majesty.^' 
 
 ''And that leddy was the Queen hersell ?" said Jeanie ; 
 "I misdoubted it when I saw that your honor didna put on 
 your hat. And yet I can hardly believe it, even when I heard 
 her speak it hersell." 
 
 "It was certainly Queen Caroline," replied the Duke. 
 " Have you no curiosity to see what is in the little pocket- 
 book ?" 
 
 " Do yon think the pardon will be in it, sir ? " said Jeanie, 
 with the eager animation of hope. 
 
 " Why, no," replied the Duke ; " that is nnlikely. They 
 seldom carry these things about them, unless they were likely 
 to be wanted ; and, besides, her Majesty told you it was the 
 King, not she, who was to grant it." 
 
 " That is true too," said Jeanie ; "but I am so confused 
 in my mind. But does your honor think there is a certainty 
 of Effie's pardon, then ? " continued she, still holding in her 
 hand the unopened pocket-book. 
 
 sr? 
 
378 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 " Why, kings are kittle cattle to shoe behind, as we say 
 in the North/' replied the Duke ; "but his wife knows his 
 trim, and I have not the least doubt that the matter is quite 
 certain." 
 
 '•' 0, God be praised ! God be praised !" ejaculated Jeanie ; 
 *' and may the gude leddy never want the heart's ease she has 
 gien me at this moment. And God bless yon too, my Lord I 
 without your help I wad ne'er hae won near her." 
 
 The Duke let her dwell upon this subject for a considerable 
 time, curious, perhaps, to see how long the feelings of grati- 
 tude would continue to supersede those of curiosity. But so 
 feeble was the latter feeling in Jeanie's mind, that his Grace,, 
 with whom, perhaps, it was for the time a little stronger, was 
 obliged once more to bring forward the subject of the Queen's 
 present. It was opened accordingly. In the inside of the 
 case was the usual assortment of silk and needles, with scis- 
 sors, tweezers, etc. ; and in the pocket was a bank-bill for fifty 
 pounds. 
 
 The Duke had no sooner informed Jeanie of the value of 
 this last document, for she was unaccustomed to see notes for 
 such sums, than she expressed her regret at the mistake which 
 had taken place. ''For the hussy itsell,'' she said, "was a 
 very valuable thing for a keepsake, with the Queen's name 
 written in the inside with her ain hand, doubtless — Caroline — 
 as plain as could be, and a crown drawn aboon it." She there- 
 fore tendered the bill to the Duke, requesting him to find some 
 mode of returning it to the royal owner. 
 
 " No, no, Jeanie," said the Duke, " there is no mistake in 
 the case. Her Majesty knows you have been put to great ex- 
 pense, and she wishes to make it up to you." 
 
 "I am sure she is even ower gude," said Jeanie, "and it 
 glads me muckle that I can pay back Dumbiedikes his siller, 
 without distressing my father, honest man." 
 
 "Dumbiedikes ! What, a freeholder of Midlothian, is he 
 not?" said his Grace, whose occasional residence in that 
 country made him acquainted with most of the heritors, as 
 lauded persons are termed in Scotland. "He has a house not 
 far from Dalkeith, wears a black wig and a laced hat ?" 
 
 "' Yes, sir," answered Jeanie, who had her reasons for being 
 brief in her answers upon this topic. 
 
 "Ah ! my old friend Dumbie !" vsaid the Duke ; "I have 
 thrice seen him fou, and only once heard the sound of his 
 voice. Is he a cousin of yours, Jeanie ? " 
 
 "No, sir — my Lord." 
 
 " Then he must be a well-wisher, I suspect ?** 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 379 
 
 *' Ye — yes, my Lord, sir, "answered Jeanie, blushing, and 
 with hesitation. 
 
 " Aha-! then, if the Laird starts, I suppose my friend But» 
 ler must be in some danger ? " 
 
 " no, sir," answered Jeanie much more readily, but at 
 the same time l)hishing much more deeply. 
 
 "Well, Jeanie," said the Duke, "you are a girl may be 
 safely trusted with your own matters, and I shall inquire no 
 further about them. But as to this same pardon, I must see 
 to get it passed through the proper forms ; and I have a friend 
 in office who will, for auld lang syne, do me so much favor. 
 And then, Jeanie, as I shall have occasion to send an express 
 down to Scotland who will travel with it safer and more 
 swiftly than you can do, I will take care to have it put into the 
 proper channel ; meanwhile, you may write to your friends, 
 by post, of your good success." 
 
 " And does your honor think," said Jeanie, " that will do 
 as weel as if I were to take my tap in my lap and slip my ways 
 hame again on my ain errand ? " 
 
 "Much better, certainly," said the Duke. "You know 
 the roads are not very safe for a single woman to travel." 
 
 Jeanie internally acquiesced in this observation. 
 
 "And I have a plan for you besides. One of the Duch- 
 esses attendants, and one of mine — your acquaintance Archi- 
 bald — are going down to Inverary in a light calash, with four 
 horses I have bought, and there is room enough in the car- 
 riage for you to go with them as far as Glasgow, where Archi- 
 bald will find means of sending you safely to Edinburgh. 
 And in the way, I beg you will teach the woman as much as 
 you can of the mystery of cheese-making, for she is to have a 
 charge in the dairy, and I dare swear you are as tidy about 
 your milk-pail as about your dress." 
 
 " Does your honor like cheese ?" said Jeanie, with a gleam 
 of conscious delight as she asked the question. 
 
 " Like it ! " said the Duke, whose good-nature anticipated 
 what was to follow — " cakes and cheese are a dinner for an 
 emperor, let alone a Highlaudman." 
 
 " Because," said Jeanie, with modest confidence, and 
 great and evident self-gratulation, "we have been thought so 
 particular in making cheese, that some folk think it as gude 
 as the real Dunlop ; and if your Honor's Grace wad but ac- 
 cept a stane or twa, blithe, and fain, and proud it wad make 
 us ! But maybe ye may like the ewe-milk, that is, the Buck- 
 holmside * cheese better : or maybe the gait-milk, as ye come 
 
 * See Buckholmside Cheese. Note 30. 
 
380 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 true tlie Highlands — and I canna pretend just to the same 
 skeel o' them ; but my cousin Jean, that lives at Locker- 
 machus in Laummermuir, I could speak to her, and " 
 
 " Quite unnecessary, '' said the Duke ; " the Dunlop is the 
 very cheese of which I am so fond, and I will take it as the 
 greatest favor you can do me to send one to Caroline Park. 
 But remember, be on honor with it, Jeanie, and make it all 
 yourself, for I am a real good judge/' 
 
 "I am not feared," said Jeanie, confidently, "that I may 
 please your honor ; for I am sure you look as if you could 
 hardly find fault wi' onybody that did their best ; and weel 
 is it my part, I trow, to do mine/' 
 
 This discourse introduced a topic upon which the two trav- 
 ellers, though so different in rank and education, found each 
 a good deal to say. Tlie Duke, besides his other patriotic 
 qualities, was a distinguished agriculturist, and proud of hia 
 knowledge in that department. He entertained Jeanie with 
 his observations on the different breeds of cattle in Scotland, 
 and tlieir capacity for the dairy, and received so much infor- 
 mation from her practical experience in return, that he prom- 
 ised her a couple of Devonshire cows in reward for the lesson. 
 In short, his mind was so transported back to his rural em- 
 ployments and amusements, that he sighed when his carriage 
 stopped opposite to the old hackney-coach, which Archibald 
 had kept in attendance at the place where they had left it. 
 While the coachman again bridled his lean cattle, which had 
 been indulged with a bite of musty hay, the Duke cautioned 
 Jeanie not to be too communicative to her landlady concern- 
 ing what had passed. " There is." he said, " no use of speak- 
 ing of matters till they are actually settled ; and you may 
 refer the good lady to Archibald, if she presses you hard with 
 questions. She is his old acquaintance, and he knows how to 
 manage with her." 
 
 He then took a cordial farewell of Jeanie, and told her to 
 be ready in the ensuing week to return to Scotland, saw her 
 safely established in her hackney-coach, and rolled off in hia 
 own carriage, humming a stanza of the ballad which he ia 
 said to have composed : 
 
 " At the sight of Dunbarton once again, 
 I'll cock up my bonnet and march amain. 
 With my claymore hanging down to my heel. 
 To whang at the bannocks of barley meal." 
 
 Perhaps one ought to be actually a Scotchman to conceive 
 how ardently, unddr all distinctions of rank and situation. 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 381 
 
 they feel their mutual connection with each other as natives 
 of the same country. There are, I believe, more associations 
 common to the inhabitants of a rude and wild than of a well- 
 cultivated and fertile country : their ancestors have more sel- 
 dom changed their place of residence ; their mutual recollec- 
 tion of remarkable objects is more accurate ; the high and the 
 low are more interested in each other's welfare ; the feelings 
 of kindred and relationship are more widely extended ; and, 
 in a word, the bonds of patriotic aifection, always honorable 
 even when a little too exclusively strained, have more influence 
 on men's feelings and actions. 
 
 The rumbling hackney-coach, which tumbled over the 
 (then) execrable London pavement at a rate very different 
 from that whicli had conveyed the ducal carriage to Eich- 
 mond, at length deposited Jeanie Deans and her attendant at 
 the national sign of the Thistle. Mrs. Glass, who had been 
 in long and anxious expectation, now rushed, full of e^ger 
 curiosity and open-mouthed interrogation, upon our heroine, 
 who was positively unable to sustain the overwhelming cata- 
 ract of her questions, which burst forth with the sublimity of 
 a grand gardyloo — " Had she seen the Duke, God bless him ! 
 — the Duchess — the young ladies ? Had she seen the King, 
 God bless him ! — the Queen — the Prince of Wales — the Prin- 
 cess — or any of the rest of the royal family ? Had she got 
 her sister's pardon ? Was it out and out, or was it only a 
 commutation of punishment ? How far had she gone — where 
 had she driven to — whom had she seen — what had been said — 
 what had kept her so long ? " 
 
 Such were the various questions huddled upon each other 
 by a curiosity so eager that it could hardly wait for its own 
 gratification. Jeanie would have been more than sufficiently 
 embarrassed by this overbearing tide of interrogations, had 
 not Archibald, who had probably received from his master a 
 hint to that purpose, advanced to her rescue. " Mrs. Glass," 
 said Archibald, 'Miis Grace desired me particularly to say, 
 that he would take it as a great favor if you would ask the 
 young woman no questions, as he wishes to exjalain to you 
 more distinctly than she can do how her affairs stand, and 
 consult you on some matters which she cannot altogether so 
 well explain. The Duke will call at the Thistle to-morrow or 
 next day for that purpose." 
 
 " His Grace is very condescending," said Mrs. Glass, her 
 zeal for inquiry slaked for the present by the dexterous ad- 
 ministration of this sugar-plum ; '' his Grace is sensible that 
 L am in a manner accountable for the conduct of my young 
 
ass WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 kinswoman, and no doubt his Grace is the best judge how far 
 he should intrust her or me with the management of her af- 
 fairs." 
 
 '' His Grace is quite sensible of that/' answered Archibald, 
 with national gravity, " and will certainly trust what he has 
 to say to the most discreet of the two ; and therefore, Mrs. 
 Glass, his Grace relies you will speak nothing to Mrs. Jean 
 Deans, either of her own affairs or her sister's, until he sees 
 you himself. He desired me to assure you, in the meanwhile, 
 that all was going on as well as your kindness could wish, 
 Mrs. Glass." 
 
 " His Grace is very kind — very considerate ; certainly, Mr. 
 
 Archibald, his Grace's commands shall be obeyed, and 
 
 But you have had a far drive, Mr. Archibald, as I guess by 
 the time of your absence, and I guess [with an engaging 
 smile] you winna be the waur o' a glass of the right Rosa 
 Solis." 
 
 " I thank you, Mrs. Glass," said the great man's great 
 man, " but I am under the necessity of returning to my Lord 
 directly." And making his adieus civilly to both cousins, he 
 left the shop of the lady of the Thistle. 
 
 "I am glad your affairs have prospered so well, Jeanie, my 
 love," said Mrs, Glass ; " though, indeed, there was little 
 fear of them so soon as the Duke of Argyle was so conde- 
 scending as to take them into hand. I will ask you no ques- 
 tions about them, because his Grace, who is most considerate 
 and prudent in such matters, intends to tell me all that you 
 ken yourself, dear, and doubtless a great deal more ; so that 
 anything that may lie heavily on your mind may be imparted 
 to me in the meantime, as you see it is his Grace's pleasure 
 that I should be made acquainted with the whole matter forth- 
 with, and whether you or he tells it will make no difference 
 in the world, ye ken. If I ken what he is going to say before- 
 hand, I will be much more ready to give my advice, and 
 whether you or he tell me about it cannot much signify after 
 all, my dear. So you may just say whatever you like, only 
 mind I ask you no questions about it." 
 
 Jeanie was a little embarrassed. She thought that the 
 communication she had to make was perhaps the only means 
 she might have in her power to gratify her friendly and hospi- 
 table kinswoman. But her prudence instantly suggested that 
 her secret interview with Queen Caroline, which seemed to 
 pass under a certain sort of mystery, was not a proper subject 
 for the gossip of a woman like Mrs. Glass, of whose heart she 
 had a much better opinion than of her pruaence. She tnere- 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 383 
 
 fore answered in general, "That the Duke had had the ex- 
 traordinary kindness to make very particular inquiries into 
 her sister's had aflfair, and that he thouglit he had found the 
 means of putting it a' straight again, but that he proposed to 
 tell all that he thought about tlie matter to Mrs. Glass her- 
 self/' 
 
 This did not quite satisfy the penetrating mistress of the 
 Thistle. Searching as her own small rappee, she, in spite of 
 her promise, urged Jeanie with still further questions. " Had 
 she been a' that time at Argyle House ? Was the Duke with 
 her the whole time ? and had she seen the Duchess ? and had 
 she seen the young ladies, and specially Lady Caroline Camp- 
 bell ? " To these questions Jeanie gave the general reply, 
 " That she knew so little of the town that she could not tell 
 exactly where she had been ; that she had not seen the Duch- 
 ess to her knowledge ; that she had seen two ladies, one of 
 whom, she understood, bore tlie name of Caroline ; and more,'* 
 she said, "she could not tell about the matter." 
 
 "It would be the Duke's eldest daughter. Lady Caroline 
 Campbell, there is no doubt of that," said Mrs. Glass ; "but, 
 doubtless, I shall know more particularly through his Grace. 
 And so, as the cloth is laid in the little parlor above stairs, 
 and it is past three o'clock — for I have been waiting this hour 
 for you, and I have had a snack myself — and, as they used 
 to say in Scotland in my time — I do not ken if the word be 
 used now — there is ill talking between a full body and a fast- 
 ing " 
 
CHAPTER XXXIX 
 
 Heaven first sent letters to some wretch's aid — ■ 
 Some banish'd lover, or some captive maid. 
 
 Pope. 
 
 By dint of unwonted labor with the pen, Jeanie Deans con- 
 trived to indite, and give to tlie cliarge of the postman on ths 
 ensuing day, no less than three letters, an exertion altogether 
 strange to her habits ; insomuch so that, if milk had been 
 plenty, she would rather have made thrice as many Dunlop 
 cheeses. The first of them was very brief. It was addressed 
 to George Staunton, Esq., at the Eectory, Willingham, by 
 Grantham ; the address being part of the information which 
 she had extracted from the communicative peasant who rode 
 before her to Stamford. It was in these words : 
 
 ••'Sir, 
 
 " To prevent farder mischieves, whereof there hath been 
 enough, comes these : Sir, I have my sister's pardon from the 
 Queen's Majesty, whereof I do not doubt you will be glad, 
 liaving had to say naut of matters whereof you know the pur- 
 port. So, sir, I pray for your better welfare in bodie and soul, 
 and that it will please the fisycian to visit you in His good time. 
 Alwaies, sir, I pray you will never come again to see my sister, 
 whereof there has been too much. And so, wishing you no 
 evil, but even your best good, that you may be turned from 
 your iniquity — for why suld ye die ? — I rest your humble serv- 
 ant to command. Ye kejst wha." 
 
 The next letter was to her father. It was too long alto- 
 gether for insertion, so we only give a few extracts. It com- 
 menced — 
 
 '' Dearest and truly honored Father, 
 
 "This comes with my duty to inform yon, that it has 
 pleased God to redeem that captivitie of my poor sister, in 
 respect the Queen's blessed Majesty, for whom we are ever 
 bound to pray, hath redeemed her soul from the slayer, grant- 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 385 
 
 ing the ransom of her, whilk is ane pardon or reprieve. And 
 I spoke with the Queen face to face, and yet live ; for she is 
 not muckle differing from other grand leddies, saving that 
 she has a stately presence, and een like a blue liuntin'-hawk\ 
 whilk gaed throu' and throu' me like a Hieland durk. And 
 all this good was, alway under the Great Giver, to whom all 
 are but instruments, wrought forth for us by the Duk of Ar- 
 gile, wha is ane native true-hearted Scotsman, and not pride- 
 lu', like other folk we ken of ; and likewise skeely enow in 
 bestial, whereof he has promised to gie me twa Devonshire 
 kye, of which he is enamoured, although I do still baud by the 
 real hawkit Airshire breed ; and I have promised him a cheese ; 
 and I wad wuss ye, if Gowans, the brockit cow, has a quey, 
 that she suld suck her fillof milk, as I am given to understand 
 he has none of that breed, and is not scorufu^, but will take a 
 thing frae a pnir body, that it may lighten their heart of the 
 loading of debt that they awe him. Also his Honor the Dnke 
 will accept ane of our Dunlop cheeses, and it sail be my fant 
 if a better was ever yearned in Lowden. [Here follow some 
 observations respecting the breed of cattle and the produce 
 of the dairy, which it is onr intention to forward to the Board 
 of Agriculture.] Nevertheless, these are but matters of the 
 after-harvest, in respect of the great good wliich Providence 
 hath gifted us with, and, in especial, poor Effie's life. And 
 0, my dear father, since it hath pleased God to be merciful 
 to her, let her not want your free pardon, whilk will make 
 her meet to be ane vessel of grace, and also a comfort to your 
 ain graie hairs. Dear father, will ye let the Laird ken that 
 we liave had friends strangely raised up to us, and that the 
 talent whilk he lent me will be thankfully repaid ? I hae 
 some of it to the fore ; and the rest of it is not knotted up in 
 ane purse or napkin, but in ane wee bit paper, as is the fash- 
 ion heir, whilk I am assured is gude for the siller. And, 
 dear father, through Mr. Butler's means I hae gnde friend- 
 ship with the Duke, for there had been kindness between their 
 forbears in the auld troublesome time by-past. And Mrs. 
 Glass has been kind like my very mother. She has a braw 
 house here, and lives bien and warm, wi' twa servant lasses, 
 and a man and a callant in the shop. And she is to send you 
 doun a pound of her hie-dried, and some other tobaka, and 
 we maun think of some propine for her, since her kindness 
 hath been great. And the Duk is to send the pardun doun 
 by an express messenger, in respect that I canna travel sae 
 fast ; and I am to come doun wi' twa of iiis Honor's servants 
 — that is, John Archibald, a decent elderly gentleman, that 
 
386 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 says he has seen yon lang syne, when ye were buying beasts 
 in the west frae the Laird of Aughtermuggitie — but maybe 
 ye winna mind him — ony way, he's a civil man — and Mrs. 
 Dolly Dutton, that is to be dairymaid at Inverara ; and they 
 bring me on as far as Glasgo', whilk will make it nae pinch 
 to win hame, whilk I desire of all things. May the Giver of 
 all good things keep ye in your outgauns and incomingSj 
 whereof devoutly prayeth your loving dauter, 
 
 "Jean Deans.'' 
 
 The third letter was to Butler, and its tenor as follows : 
 
 *' Master Butler, 
 
 " Sir — It will be pleasure to yon to ken that all I came for 
 is, thanks be to God, weel dune and to the gude end, and that 
 your forbear's letter was right welcome to the Duke of Argile, 
 and that he wrote your name down with a keelyvine pen in a 
 leathern book, whereby it seems like he will do for you either 
 wi' a scule or a kirk ; he has enow of baith, as I am assured. 
 And I have seen the Queen, which gave me a hussy-case out 
 of her own hand. She had not her crown and skeptre^ but 
 they are laid by for her, like the bairns' best claise, to be worn 
 when she needs them. And they are keepit in a tour, whilk 
 is not like the tour of Liberton, nor yet Craigmillar, but mair 
 like to the castell of Edinburgh, if the buildings were taen and 
 set down in the midst of the Nor' Loch. Also the Queen was 
 very bounteous, giving me a paper worth fiftie pounds, as I 
 am assured, to pay my expenses here and back agen. Sae, 
 Master Butler, as we were aye neebours' bairns, forbye ony- 
 thing else that may hae been spoken between us, I. trust you 
 winna skrimp yoursell for what is needfu' for your health, 
 since it signifies not muckle whilk o' us has the siller, if the 
 other wants it. And mind this is no meant to hand ye to ony- 
 thing whilk ye wad rather forget, if ye suld get a charge of a 
 kirk or a scule, as above said. Only I hope it will be a scule, 
 and not a kirk, because of these difficulties anent aiths and 
 patronages, whilk might gang ill doun wi' my honest father. 
 Only if ye could compass a harmonious call frae the parish of 
 Skreegh-me-dead, as ye anes had hope of, I trow it wad please 
 him weel ; since I hae heard him say that the root of the mat- 
 ter was mair deeply hafted in that wild muirland parish than 
 in the Canongate of Edinburgh, I wish I had whaten books 
 ye wanted, Mr, Butler, for they haehaill houses of them hero, 
 and they are obliged to set sum out in the street, whilk aj*e 
 said cheap, doubtless to get them out of the weather. It is a 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 387 
 
 mnckle place, and I hae seen sae mnckle of it that my poor 
 head turns round. And ye ken lang syne I am nae great pen- 
 woman, and it is near eleven o'clock o' the night. I am cum- 
 ming down in good company, and safe ; and I had troubles in 
 gaun up, whilk makes me blyther of travelling wi' kenn'd 
 folk. My cousin, Mrs. Glass, has a braw house here, but 
 a'thing is sae poisoned wi' snuff that I am like to be scomfished 
 whiles. But what signifies these things, in comparison of the 
 great deliverance whilk has been vouchsafed to my father's 
 house, in whilk you, as our auld and dear well-wisher, will, I 
 doubt not, rejoice and be exceedingly glad ? And I am, dear 
 Mr. Butler, your sincere well-wisher in temporal and eternal 
 things, J. D." 
 
 After these labors of an unwonted kind, Jeanie retired to 
 her bed, yet scarce could sleep a few minutes together, so often 
 was she awakened by the heart-stirring consciousness of her 
 sister's safety, and so powerfully urged to deposit her burden of 
 Joy where she had before laid her doubts and sorrows, in the 
 warm and sincere exercises of devotion. 
 
 All the next, and all the succeeding day, Mrs. Glass fid- 
 geted about her shop in the agony of expectation, like a pea — 
 to use a vulgar simile which her profession renders appro- 
 priate — upon one of her own tobacco-pipes. With the third 
 morning came the expected coach, with four servants clustered 
 behind on the foot-board, in dark brown and yellow liveries ; 
 the Duke in person, with laced coat, gold-headed cane, star 
 and garter — all, as the story-book says, very grand. 
 
 He inquired for his little countrywoman of Mrs. Glass, 
 but without requesting to see her, probably because he was 
 unwilling to give an appearance of personal intercourse be- 
 twixt them which scandal might have misinterpreted. "The 
 Queen," he said to Mrs. Glass, " had taken the case of her 
 kinswoman into her gracious consideration, and being specially 
 moved by the affectionate and resolute character of the elder 
 sister, had condescended to use her powerful intercession with 
 his Majesty, in consequence of which a pardon had been de- 
 spatched to Scotland to Effie Deans, on condition of her ban- 
 ishing herself forth of Scotland for fourteen years. The 
 King's Advocate had insisted," he said, " upon this qualifica- 
 tion of the pardon, having pointed out to his Majesty's min- 
 isters that, within the course of only seven years, twenty-one 
 instances of child-murder had occurred in Scotland." 
 
 " Weary on him ! " said Mrs. Glass, " what for needed he 
 to iiave tailed that of his ain country, and to the English folk 
 
388 ) WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 abune a' ? 1 used aye to think the Advocate * a douce decent 
 man, but it is an ill bird — begging your Grace's pardon for 
 speaking of such a coorse by-word. And then what is the 
 poor liissie to do in a foreign land ? Why, wae's me, it's just 
 sendiiW her to play the same pranks ower again, out of sight 
 or guic|[ance of her friends." 
 
 ~ )oh ! pooh !" said the Duke, " that need not be anti- 
 cipatedA Why, she may come up to London, or she may go 
 over to America, and marry well for all that is come and 
 gone.' 
 
 " In {roth, and so she may, as your Grace is pleased to inti- 
 mate," replied Mrs. Glass ; " and now I think upon it, there is 
 my old correspondent in Virginia, Ephraim Buckskin, that has 
 supplied the Thistle this forty years with tobacco, and it is not 
 a little that serves our turn, and he has been writing to me 
 this ten years to send him out a wife. The carle is not above 
 sixty, and hale and hearty, and well-to-pass in the world, and 
 a line from my hand would settle the matter, and Effie Deans's 
 misfortune — forbye that tliere is no special occasion to speak 
 about it — would be thought little of there." 
 
 "Is she a pretty girl ?" said the Duke ; "her sister does 
 not get beyond a good comely sonsy lass." 
 
 "Oh, far prettier is Effie than Jeanie," said Mrs. Glass, 
 ** though it is long since I saw her mysell; but I hear of the 
 Deanses by all my Lowden friends when they come ; your 
 Grace kens we Scots are clannish bodies." 
 
 "So much the better for us," said the Duke, "and the 
 worse for those who meddle with us, as your good old-fashioned 
 Scots sign says, Mrs. Glass. And now I hope you will approve 
 of the measures I have taken for restoring your kinswoman to 
 her friends." These he detailed at length, and Mrs. Glass 
 gave her unqualified approbation, with a smile and a courtesy at 
 every sentence. "And now, Mrs. Glass, you must tellJeanie 
 I hope she will not forget my cheese when she gets dowr to 
 Scotland. Archibald has my orders to arrange all her ex= 
 penses." 
 
 " Begging your Grace's humble pardon," said Mrs. Glass, 
 " it's a pity to trouble yourself about them ; the Deanses are 
 wealthy people in their way, and the lass has money in her 
 pocket." 
 
 " That's all very true," said the Duke ; "but you know, 
 where MacCallummore travels he pays all : it is our High- 
 land privilege to take from all what we want, and to give to 
 all what th^y want." 
 
 *The celebrated Duncan Forbes, soon afterwards Lord President of the College 
 of Justice, was at this time Lord Advocate. 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 389 
 
 '' Yonr Grace's better at giving than taking," said Mrs. 
 Glass. 
 
 " To show you the contrary," said the Duke, " I will fill my 
 box out of this canister without paying you a bawbee ; " and 
 again desiring to be remembered to Jeanie, with his good 
 wishes for her safe journey, he departed, leaving Mrs. Glass 
 uplifted in heart and in countenance, the proudest and hap- 
 piest of tobacco and snuff dealers. 
 
 Reflectively, his Grace's good- humor and affability had a 
 favorable effect upon Jeanie's situation. Her kinswoman, 
 though civil and kind to her, had acquired too much of Lon- 
 don breeding to be perfectly satisfied with her cousin's rustic 
 and national dress, and was, besides, something scandalized at 
 the cause of her journey to London. Mrs. Glass might, there- 
 fore, have been less sedulous in her attentions towards Jeanie, 
 but for the interest which the foremost of the Scottish nobles 
 (for such, in all men's estimation, was the Duke of Argyle) 
 seemed to take in her fate. Now, however, as a kinswoman 
 whose virtues and domestic affections had attracted the notice 
 and approbation of royalty itself, Jeanie stood to her relative 
 in a light very different and much more favorable, and was 
 not only treated with kindness, but with actual observance and 
 respect. 
 
 It depended upon herself alone to have made as many visits, 
 and seen as many sights, as lay within Mrs. Glass's power to 
 compass. But, excepting that she dined abroad with one or 
 two '^far-away kinsfolk," and that she paid the same respect, 
 on Mrs. Glass's strong urgency, to Mrs. Deputy Dabby, wife 
 of the Worshipful Mr. Deputy Dabby, of Farringdon With- 
 out, she did not avail herself of the opportunity. As Mrs. 
 Dabby was the second lady of great rank whom Jeanie had 
 seen in London, she used sometimes afterwards to draw a 
 parallel betwixt her and the Queen, in which she observed, 
 that " Mrs. Dabby was dressed twice as grand, and was twice 
 as big, and spoke twice as loud, and twice as muckle, as the 
 Queen did, but she hadna the same goss-hawk glance that 
 makes the skin creep and the knee bend ; and though she had 
 very kindly gifted her with a loaf of sugar and twa punds of 
 tea, yet she hadna a'thegither the sweet look that the Queen 
 had when she put the needle-book into her hand." 
 
 Jeanie might have enjoyed the sights and novelties of this 
 great city more, had it not been for the qualification added 
 to her sister's pardon, which greatly grieved her affectionate 
 disposition. On this subject, however, her mind was some- 
 what relieved by a letter which she received in return of post. 
 
300 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 
 
 in answer to that -which she had written to her father. With 
 his affectionate blessing, it brought his full approbation of the 
 step which she had taken, as one inspired by the immediate 
 dictates of Heaven, and which she had been thrust upon in 
 order that she might become the means of safety to a perish- 
 ing household. 
 
 *' If ever a deliverance was dear and precious, this,'' said 
 the letter, "is a dear and precious deliverance; and if life 
 saved can be made more sweet and savory, it is when it cometh 
 by the hands of those whom we hold in the ties of affection. 
 And do not let your heart be disquieted within you, that this 
 victim, who is rescued from the horns of the altar, whereuntil 
 she was fast bound by the chains of human law, is now to be 
 driven beyond the bounds of our land. Scotland is a blessed 
 land to those who love the ordinances of Christianity, and it 
 is a fair land to look upon, and dear to them who have dwelt 
 in it a' their days ; and weel said that judicious Christian, worthy 
 John Livingstone, a sailor in Borrowstounness, as the famous 
 Patrick Walker reporteth his words, that howbeit he thought 
 Scotland was a G-ehennah of wickedness when he was at home, 
 yet, when he was abroad, he accounted it aue paradise ; for the 
 evils of Scotland he found everywhere, and the good of Scot- 
 land he found nowhere. But we are to hold in remembrance 
 that Scotland, though it be our native land, and the land of 
 onr fathers, is not like Groshen in Egypt, on whilk the sun of 
 the heavens and of the Grospel shineth allenarly, and leaveth 
 the rest of the world in utter darkness. Therefore, and also 
 because this increase of profit at St. Leonard's Crags may be a 
 cauld waff of wind blawing from the frozen land of earthly 
 self, where never plant of grace took root or grew, and because 
 my concerns make me take something ower muckle a grip of 
 the gear of the warld in mine arms, I receive this dispensation 
 anent Effie as a call to depart out of Haran, as righteous Abra- 
 ham of old, and leave my father's kindred and my mother's 
 house, and the ashes and mould of them who have gone to 
 sleep before me, and which wait to be mingled with these anld 
 crazed bones of mine own. And my heart is lightened to do 
 this, when I call to mind the decay of active and earnest re- 
 ligion in this land, and survey the height and the depth, the 
 length and the breadth, of national defections, and how the 
 love of many is waxing lukewarm and cold ; and I am strength- 
 ened in this resolution to change my domicile likewise, as I 
 hear that store-farms are to be set at an easy mail in Northum- 
 berland, where there are many precious souls that are of our 
 true though suffering persuasion. And sic part of the kye or 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 391 
 
 stock as I judge it fit to keep may be driven thither without 
 incommodity — say about Wooler, or that gate, keeping aye a 
 shouther to the hills — and the rest may besauld to gude profit 
 and advantage, if we had grace weel to use and guide these 
 gifts of the warld. The Laird has been a true friend on our 
 unhappy occasions, and I have paid him back the siller for 
 Effie's misfortune, whereof Mr. Nichil Novit returned him no 
 balance, as the Laird and I did expect he wad hae done. But 
 law licks up a', as the common folk say. I have had the siller 
 to borrow out of sax purses. Mr. Saddletree advised to give 
 the Laird of Lounsbeck a charge on his band for a thousand 
 merks. But I hae nae broo' of charges, since that awfu* 
 morning that a tout of a horn at the Cross of Edinburgh blew 
 half the faithfu^ ministers of Scotland out of their pulpits. 
 However, I sail raise an adjudication, whilk Mr. Saddletree 
 says comes instead of the auld apprisings, and will not lose 
 weel- won gear with the like of him if it may be helped. As 
 for the Queen, and the credit that she hath done to a, poor 
 man's daughter, and the mercy and the grace ye found with 
 her, I can only pray for her weel-being here and hereafter, 
 for the establishment of her house now and forever upon the 
 throne of these kingdoms. I doubt not but what you told her 
 Majesty that I was the same David Deans of whom there was 
 a sport at the Revolution, when I noited thegither the heads 
 of twa false prophets, these ungracious Graces the prelates, as 
 they stood on the Hie Street, after being expelled from the 
 Convention Parliament.* The Duke of Argyle is a noble and 
 true-hearted nobleman, who pleads the cause of the poor, and 
 those who have none to help them ; verily his reward shall 
 not be lacking unto him. I have been writing of many things, 
 but not of that whilk lies nearest mine heart. I have seen 
 the misguided thing ; she will be at freedom the morn, on 
 enacted caution that she shall leave Scotland in four weeks. 
 Her mind is in an evil frame — casting her eye backward on 
 Egypt, I doubt, as if the bitter waters of the wilderness were 
 harder to endure than the brick furnaces, by the side of which 
 there were savory flesh-pots. I need not bid you make haste 
 down, for you are, excepting always my Crept Master, my only 
 comfort in these straits. I charge you to withdraw your feet 
 from the delusion of that Vanity Fair in whilk ye are a so- 
 journer, and not to go to their worship, whilk is an ill-mumbled 
 mass, as it was weel termed by James the Sext, though he after- 
 wards, with his unhappy son, strove to bring it ower back 
 and belly into his native kingdom, wherethrough their race 
 
 * 8ee Expulsion of the Bishops from the Scottish Conveation. Note 31. 
 
392 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 have been cat off as foam npon the water, and ouall be as 
 wanderers among the nations ; see the prophecies of Hosea, 
 ninth and seventeenth, and the same, tenth and seventh. 
 But us and our house, let us say with the same prophet : ' Let 
 us return to the Lord ; for he hath torn and he will heal us, 
 he hath smitten and he will bind us up.'" 
 
 He proceeded to say, that he approved of her proposed 
 mode of returning by Glasgow, and entered into sundry mi- 
 nute particulars not necessary to be quoted. A single line in 
 the letter, but not the least frequently read by the party to 
 whom it was addressed, intimated that " Eeuben Butler had 
 been as a son to him in his sorrows." As David Deans scarce 
 ever mentioned Butler before without some gibe, more or less 
 direct, either at his carnal gifts and learning or at his grand- 
 father's heresy, Jeanie drew a good omen from no such qual- 
 ifying clause being added to this sentence respecting him. 
 
 A lover's hope resembles the bean in the nursery tale : 
 let it once take root, and it will grow so rapidly that in the 
 course of a few hours the giant Imagination builds a castle 
 on the top, and by and by comes Disappointment with the 
 *' curtal axe," and hews down both the plant and the super- 
 structure. Jeanie's fancy, though not the most powerful 
 of her faculties, was lively enough to transport her to a 
 wild farm in N"orthumberland, well stocked with milk-cows, 
 yeald beasts, and sheep ; a meeting-house hard by, frequented 
 by serious Presbyterians, who had united in an harmonious call 
 to Reuben Butler to be their spiritual guide ; Effie restored, 
 not to gayety, but to cheerfulness at least ; their father, with 
 his gray hairs smoothed down, and spectacles on his nose ; 
 herself, with the maiden snood exchanged for a matron's 
 curch — all arranged in a pew in the said meeting-house, listen- 
 ing to words of devotion, rendered sweeter and more power- 
 ful by the affectionate ties which combined them with the 
 preacher. She cherished such visions from day to day, until 
 her residence in London began to become insupportable and 
 tedious to her ; and it was with no ordinary satisfaction that 
 she received a summons from Argyle House, requiring her 
 in. two days to be prepared to join their northward party. 
 
CHAPTEE XL 
 
 One was a female, who had grievous ill 
 Wrought in revenge, and she enjoy'd it still ; 
 Sullen she was, and threatening ; in her eye 
 Glared the stern triumph that she dared to die. 
 
 Crabbe. 
 
 The summons of preparation arrived after Jeanie Deans 
 had resided in the metropolis about three weeks. 
 
 On the morning appointed she took a grateful farewell of 
 Mrs. Glass, as that good woman's attention to her particu- 
 larly required, placed herself and her movable goods, which 
 purchases and presents had greatly increased, in a hackney- 
 coach, and joined her travelling companions in the house- 
 keeper's apartment at Argyle House, While the carriage was 
 getting ready, she was informed that the Duke wished to 
 speak with her ; and being ushered into a splendid saloon, 
 she was surprised to find that he wished to present her to his 
 lady and daughters. 
 
 " I bring you my little countrywoman, -Duchess," these 
 were the words of the introduction. ''With an army of 
 young fellows as gallant and steady as she is, and a good 
 cause, I would not fear two to one." 
 
 " Ah, papa ! " said a lively young lady, about twelve years 
 old, "remember you were full one to two at Sheriffmuir, and 
 yet [singing the well-known ballad] — 
 
 " Some say that we wan, and some say that they wan, 
 And some say that nane wan at a', man ; 
 But of ae thing I'm sure, that on Sheriffmuir 
 A battle there was that I saw, man. " 
 
 " What, little Mary turned Tory on my hands ? This will 
 be fine news for our countrvwoman to carry down to Scot- 
 land ! " 
 
 " We may all turn Tories for the thanks we have got for 
 remaining Whigs," said the second young lady. 
 
 " Well, hold your peace, you discontented monkeys, and 
 go dress your babies ; and as for the Bob of Dumblane, 
 
 " If it wasna weel bobbit, weel bobbit, weel bobbit, 
 If it wasna weel bobbit, we'll bobb it again." 
 
394 W AVE RLE Y NOVELS 
 
 " Papa's wit is running low/' said Lady Mary ; ''the poor 
 gentleman is repeating himself ; he sang that on the field of 
 battle, when he was told the Highlanders had cut his left 
 wing to pieces with their claymores." 
 
 A pull by the hair was the repartee to this sally. 
 " Ah ! brave Highlanders and bright claymores," said the 
 Duke, " well do I wish them, 'for a' the ill they've done me 
 yet,' as the song goes. But come, madcaps, say a civil word 
 to your countrywoman. I wish ye had half her canny hamely 
 sense ; I think you may be as leal and true-hearted." 
 
 The Duchess advanced, and, in few words, in which there 
 was as much kindness as civility, assured Jeanie of the respect 
 which she had for a character so affectionate, and yet so firm, 
 and added, " When you get home, you will perhaps hear 
 from me." 
 
 '' And from me." "And from me." ''And from me, 
 Jeanie," added the young ladies one after the other, " for you 
 are a credit to the land we love so well." 
 
 Jeanie, overpowered with these unexpected compliments, 
 and not aware that the Duke's investigation had made him 
 acquainted with her behavior on her sister's trial, could only 
 answer by blushing, and courtesying round and round, and 
 uttering at intervals, " Mony thanks ! mony thanks ! " 
 
 "Jeanie," said the Duke, "you must have dock an' dor- 
 roch, or you will be unable to travel." 
 
 There was a salver with cake and wine on the table. He 
 took up a glass, drank "to all true hearts that lo'ed Scot- 
 land," and offered a glass to his guest. 
 
 Jeanie, however, declined it, saying, " that she had never 
 tasted wine in her life." 
 
 " How comes that, Jeanie ?"said the Duke ; "wine mak- 
 eth glad the heart, you know." 
 
 " Ay, sir, but my father is like Jonadab the son of Rechab, 
 who charged his children that they should drink no wine." 
 
 " I thought your father would have had more sense," said 
 the Duke, "unless, indeed, he prefers brandy. But, however, 
 Jeanie, if you will not drink, you must eat, to save the char- 
 acter of my house." 
 
 He thrust upon her a large piece of cake, nor would he 
 permit her to break off a fragment and lay the rest on the 
 salver. " Put it in your pouch, Jeanie," said he ; " you will 
 be glad of it before you see St. Giles's steeple. I wish to 
 Heaven I were to see it as soon as you ! and so my best service 
 to all my friends at and about Auld Reekie, and a blithe jour- 
 ney to you." 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 396 
 
 And, mixing the frankness of a soldier with his natural 
 affability, he shook hands with his protegee, and committed 
 her to the charge of Archibald, satisfied that he had provided 
 sufficiently for her being attended to by his domestics, from 
 the unusual attention with which he had himself treated her. 
 
 Accordingly, in the course of her journey, she found both 
 her companions disposed to pay her every possible civility, so 
 that her return, in point of comfort and safety, formed a 
 strong contrast to her journey to London. 
 
 Her heart also was disburdened of the weight of grief, 
 shame, apprehension, and fear which had loaded her before 
 her interview with the Queen at Kichmond. But the human 
 mind is so strangely capricious that, when freed from the 
 pressure of real misery, it becomes open and sensitive to the 
 apprehension of ideal calamities. She was now much disturbed 
 in mind that she had heard nothing from Reuben Butler, to 
 whom the operation of writing was so much more familiar than 
 it was to herself. 
 
 " It would have cost him sae little fash/^ she said to her- 
 self ; " for I hae seen his pen gang as fast ower the paper as 
 ever it did ower the water when it was in the gray goose's 
 wing. Wae's me ! maybe he may be badly ; but then my 
 father wad likely hae said something about it. Or maybe he 
 may hae taen the rue, and kensna how to let me wot of his 
 change of mind. He needna be at muckle fash about it,'* 
 she went on, drawing herself up, though the tear of honest 
 pride and injured affection gathered in her eye, as she enter- 
 tained the suspicion ; " Jeanie Deans is no the lass to pu'liim 
 by the sleeve, or put him in mind of what he wishes to forget. 
 I sail wish him weel and happy a' the same ; and if he has 
 the luck to get a kirk in our country, I sail gang and hear him 
 just the very same, to show that I bear nae malice." And as 
 she imagined the scene, the tear stole over her eye. 
 
 In these melancholy reveries Jeanie* had full time to in- 
 dulge herself ; for her travelling companions, servants in a 
 distinguished and fashionable family, had, of course, many 
 topics of conversation in which it was absolutely impossible 
 she could have either pleasure or portion. She had, there- 
 fore, abundant leisure for reflection, and even for self-tor- 
 menting, during the several days which, indulging the young 
 horses the Duke was sending down to the North with suffi- 
 cient ease and short stages, they occupied in reaching the 
 neighborhood of Carlisle. 
 
 In approaching the vicinity of that ancient city, they dis- 
 cerned a considerable crowd upon an eminence at a little 
 
396 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 distance from the high-road, and learned from some passengers 
 who were gathering towards that busy scene from the south- 
 ward, that the cause of the concourse was the laudable public 
 desire " to see a domned Scotch witch and thief get half of 
 her due upo' Haribee Broo' yonder : for she was only to be 
 hanged ; she should hae been boomed aloive, an' cheap on't." 
 
 " Dear Mr. Archibald," said the dame of the dairy elect, 
 '' I never seed a woman hanged in a,' my life, and only four 
 men, as made a goodly spectacle." 
 
 Mr. Archibald, however, was a Scotchman, and promised 
 himself no exuberant pleasure in seeing his countrywoman 
 undergo " the terrible behests of law." Moreover, he was a 
 man of sense and delicacy in his way, and the late circum- 
 stances of Jeanie's family, with the cause of her expedition to 
 London, were not unknown to him ; so that he answered 
 dryly, it was impossible to stop, as he must be early at Carlisle 
 on some business of the Duke's, and he accordingly bid the 
 postilions get on. 
 
 The road at that time passed at about a quarter of a mile's 
 distance from the eminence called Haribee or Harabee Brow, 
 which, though it is very moderate in size and height, is nev- 
 ertheless seen from a great distance around, owing to the 
 flatness of the country through which the Eden flows. Here 
 many an outlaw and border-rider of both kingdoms had wa- 
 vered in the wind during the wars, and scarce less hostile 
 truces, between the two countries. Upon Harabee, in latter 
 days, other executions had taken place with as little ceremony 
 as compassion ; for these frontier provinces remained long un- 
 settled, and, even at the time of which we write, were ruder 
 than those in the centre of England. 
 
 The postilions drove on, wheeling, as the Penrith road led 
 them, round the verge of the rising ground. Yet still the 
 eyes of Mrs. Dolly Putton, which, with the head and sub- 
 stantial person to which they belonged, were all turned to- 
 wards the scene of action, could discern plainly the outline 
 of the gallows-tree, relieved against the clear sky, the dark 
 shade formed by the persons of the executioner and the 
 criminal upon the light rouuds of the tall aerial ladder, until 
 one of the objects, launched into the air, gave unequivocal 
 signs of mortal agony, though appearing in the distance not 
 larger than a spider dependent at the extremity of his invis- 
 ible thread, while the remaining form descended from its 
 elevated situation, and regained with all speed an undistin- 
 guished place among the crowd. This termination of the 
 tragic scene drew forth, of course, a squall from Mrs. Dutton, 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 397 
 
 and Jeanie, with instinctive curiosity, turned her head in the 
 same direction. 
 
 Tlie sight of a female culprit in the act of undergoing the 
 fatal punisliment from which her beloved sister had been so 
 recently rescued was too much, not perhaps for her nerves, 
 but for her mind and feelings. She turned her head to the 
 other side of the carriage, with a sensation of sickness, of 
 loathing, and of fainting. Her female companion over- 
 whelmed her with questions, with proffers of assistance, with 
 requests that the carriage might be stopped, that a doctor 
 might be fetched, that drops might be gotten, that burnt 
 feathers and asafo^tida, fair water, and hartshorn might be 
 procured, all at once, and without one instant's delay. Arch- 
 ibald, more calm and considerate, only desired the carriage to 
 push forward ; and it was not till they had got beyond sight 
 of the fatal spectacle that, seeing the deadly paleness of 
 Jeanie's countenance, he stopped the carriage, and jumping 
 out himself, went in search of the most obvious and most 
 easily procured of Mrs. Button's pharmacopoeia — a draught, 
 namely, of fair water. 
 
 While Archibald was absent on this good-natured piece of 
 service, damning the ditches which produced nothing but 
 mud, and thinking upon the thousand bubbling springlets of 
 his own mountains, the attendants on the execution began 
 to pass the stationary vehicle in their way back to Carlisle. 
 
 From their half-heard and half-understood words, Jeanie, 
 whose attention was involuntarily riveted by them, as that of 
 children is by ghost stories, though they know the pain with 
 which they will afterwards remember them — Jeanie, I say, 
 could discern that tlie present victim of the law had died 
 ''game," as it is termed by those unfortunates ; that is, sul- 
 len, reckless, and impenitent, neither fearing God nor regard- 
 ing man. 
 
 " A sture woife, and a dour," said one Cumbrian peasant, 
 as he clattered by in his wooden brogues, with a noise like 
 the trampling of a dray-horse. 
 
 " Slie has gone to ho master, with ho'snamein her mouth," 
 said another. 'SShame the country should be harried wi* 
 Scotch witches and Scotch bitches this gate ; but I say hang 
 and drown." 
 
 " Ay, ay. Gaffer Tramp, take awa* yealdon, take awa' low; 
 hang the witch, and there will be less scathe amang us ; mine 
 owsen hae been reckan this towmont." 
 
 " And mine bairns hae been crining too, mon," replied 
 liis neighbor. 
 
398 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 " Sileuce wi' your f ule tongues, ye churls/' said an old 
 woman who hobbled past them as they stood talking near the 
 carriage ; *' this was nae witch, but a bluidy- fingered thief 
 Toud murderess." 
 
 "Ay ? was it e'en sae, Dame Hinchup ?" said one in a 
 civil tone, and stepping out of his place to let the old woman 
 pass along the footpath. ''Nay, you know best, sure ; bi^t at 
 or.^r rate we hae but tint a Scot of her, and that's a thing 
 better lost than found." 
 
 The old woman passed on without making any answer. 
 
 '' A.J, ay, neighbor," said Gaffer Tramp, '' seest thou how 
 one witch will speak for t'other — Scots or English, the same 
 to i.iem." 
 
 His companion shook his head, and replied in the same 
 subdued tone, " Ay, ay, when r. Sark-foot wife gets on her 
 broomstick, the dames of Allonby are ready to mount, just 
 as sure as the by- word gangs o' the hills — 
 
 " If Skiddaw hath a cap, 
 Criffel wots full weel of that." 
 
 " But," continued Gaffer Tramp, " thinkest thou the 
 daughter o' yon hangit body isna a:: rank a Avitcli as ho ?" 
 
 " I kenna cloarly," returned the fellow, " but the folk 
 are speaking o' swimming her i' the Eden." And they 
 passed on their several roads, after wishing each other good 
 morning. 
 
 Just as the clowns left the place, and as Mr. Archibald re- 
 turned with some fair water, a crowd of boys and girls, and 
 some of the lower rabble of more mature age, came up from 
 the place of execution, grouping themselves with many a yell 
 of delight around a tall female fantastically dressed, who was 
 dancing, leaping, and bounding in the midst of them. A 
 horrible recollection pressed on Jeanio as she looked on this 
 unfortunate creature ; and the reminiscence was mutual, for, 
 by a sudden exertion of groat strength and agility, Madge 
 Wildfire broke out of the noisy circle of tormentors who sur- 
 rounded her, and clinging fast to the door of the calash, ut- 
 tered, in a sound betwixt laughter and screaming, ''Eh, d'ye 
 ken, Jeanie Deans, they hae hangit our mother?" Then 
 suddenly changing her tone to that of the most piteous en- 
 treaty, she added, " gar them let me gang to cut her down ! 
 — let me but cut her down ! She is my mother, if she was 
 waur than the deil, and she'll be nae mair kenspeckle than 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 399 
 
 half-hangit Maggie Dickson,* that cried sant mony a day after 
 she had been hangit ; he: voice was roupit and hoarse, and 
 her neck was a wee agee, or ye wad hae kenn'd nae odds on 
 her frae ony other saut-wife." 
 
 Mr, Archibald, embarrassed by the madwoman's clinging 
 to the carriage, and detaining around thom her noisy and 
 mischievous attendants, was all thir: Vi^hilc looking ju , for a 
 constable or beadle, to whom he might commit the unfortu- 
 nate creature. But seeing no such person of auf lority, he 
 endeavcrofl to loosen her hold from the carriage, that they 
 might escape from her by driving on. This, however, could 
 hardly be achieved without some degree of violence ; Madge 
 held fast, and renewed her frantic entreaties to be permitted 
 to cut down her mother. "It was but a tenpenny tow lost," 
 she said, "'and what was that to a woman's life ?" There 
 came up, however, a parcel of savage-looking fellows, butch- 
 ers and graziers chiefly, among whose cattle tlioro had been 
 of late a very general and fatal distemper, which their wisdom 
 imputed to witchcraft. They laid violent hands on Madge, 
 and tore her from the carriage, exclaiming, " What, doest 
 stop folk o' king's highway ? Hast no done mischief enow 
 already, wi' thy murders and thy witcherings ? " 
 
 " Oh, Jeanie Deans — Jeanie Deans !" exclaimed the poor 
 mauiac, "save my mother, and I will take ye to the Inter- 
 preter's house again ; and I will teach ye a' my bonny sangs ; 
 and I will tell ye what came o' the " The rest of her en- 
 treaties were drowned in the shouts of the rabble. 
 
 "Save her, for God's sake ! — save her from those people !" 
 exclaimed Jeanie to Archibald. 
 
 " She is mad, but quite innocent — she is mad, gentle- 
 men," said Archibald ; " do not use her ill, take her before 
 the mayor." 
 
 " Ay, ay, we'se hae care enow on her," answered one of 
 the fellows ; " gang thou thy gate, man, and mind thine own 
 matterc." 
 
 " He's a Scot by his tongue," said another ; " and an he 
 will come out o' his whirligig there, I'se gie him his tartan 
 plaid fu' o' broken banes." 
 
 It was clear nothing could be done to rescue Madge ; and 
 Archibald, who was a man of humanity, could only bid the 
 postilions hurry on to Carlisle, that he might obtain some 
 assistance to the unfortunate woman. As they drove off, they 
 heard the hoarse roar with which the mob preface acts of riot 
 or cruelty, yet even above that deep and dire note they could 
 
 * See Note ZSi. 
 
400 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 discern the screams of the unfortunate victim. They were 
 soon out of hearing of the cries, but had no sooner entered 
 the streets of Carlisle than Archibald, at Jeanie's earnest 
 and urgent entreaty, went to a magistrate, to state the cru- 
 elty which was likely to be exercised on this unhappy creat- 
 ure. 
 
 In about an hour and a half he returned, and reported to 
 Jeanie that the magistrate had very readily gone in person, 
 v/ith some assistants, to the rescue of the unfortunate woman, 
 and that he had himself accompanied him ; that when they 
 camo to the muddy pool in which the mob were ducking her, 
 according to their favorite mode of punishment, the magis- 
 trate succeeded in rescuing her from their hands, but in a 
 state of insensibility, owing to the cruel treatment which she 
 had received. He added, that he had seen her carried to the 
 workhouse, and understood that she had been brought to her- 
 self, and was expected to do well. 
 
 This last averment was a slight alteration in point of fact, 
 for Midge Wildfire was not expected to survive tlie treatment 
 she h id received ; but Jeanie seemed so much agitated that 
 Mr. Archibald did not think it prudent to tell her the worst 
 at once. Indeed, she appeared so fluttered and disordered by 
 this alarming accident that, although it had been their inten- 
 tion to proceed to Longtown that evening, her companions 
 judged it most advisable to pass the night at Carlisle. 
 
 This was particularly agreeable to Jeanie, who resolved, if 
 possible, to procare an interview with Madge Wildfire. Con- 
 necting some of her wild flights with the narrative of George 
 Staunton, she was unwilling to omit the opportunity of ex- 
 tracting from her, if possible, some information concerning 
 the fate of that unfortunate infant which had cost her sister 
 so dear. Her acquaintance with the disordered state of poor 
 Madge's mind did not permit her to cherish much hope that 
 she could acquire from her any useful intelligence ; but then, 
 since Madge's mother had suffered her deserts, and was silent 
 forever, it was her only chance of obtaining any kind of in- 
 formation, and she was loath to lose the opportunity. 
 
 She colored her wish to Mr. Archibald by saying that she 
 had seen Madge formerly, and wished to know, as a matter of 
 humanity, how she was attended to under her present mis- 
 fortunes. That complaisant person immediately went to the 
 workhouse, or hospital, in which he had seen the sufferer 
 lodged, and brought back for reply, that the medical attend- 
 ants positively forbade her seeing any one. When the appli- 
 cation for admittance was repeated next day, Mr. Archibald 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 401 
 
 was informed that she had been very quiet and composed, iii- 
 somnch that the clergyman wlio acted as chaplain to the es- 
 tablishment, thought it expedient to read j)rayers beside her 
 bed, but that her wandering fit of mind had returned soon 
 after his departure ; hoM^ever, her countiywoman might see 
 her if she chose it. She was not expected to live above an hour 
 or two. 
 
 Jeanie had no sooner received this information than she 
 hastened to the hospital, her companions attending her. They 
 found the dying person in a large ward, where there were ten 
 beds, of which the patient's was the only one occupied. 
 
 Madge was singing when they entered — singing her own 
 wild snatches of songs and obsolete airs, with a voice no longer 
 overstrained by false spirits, but softened, saddened, and sub- 
 dued by bodily exhaustion. She was still insane, but was no 
 longer able to express her wandering ideas in the wild notes 
 of her former state of exalted imagination. There was death 
 in the plaintive tones of her voice, which yet, in this moder- 
 ated and melancholy mood, had something of the lulling sound 
 with which a mother sings her infant asleep. As Jeanie en- 
 tered, she heard first the air, and then a part of tlie chorus 
 and words, of what had been, perhaps, the song of a jolly 
 harvest-home : 
 
 " Our work is over — over now, 
 The goodman wipes his weary broW, 
 The last long wain wends slow away, 
 And we are free to sport and play. 
 
 " The night comes on when sets the sun. 
 And labor ends when day is done. 
 When Autumn's gone and Winter's come. 
 We hold our .jovial harvest-home." 
 
 Jeanie advanced to the bedside when the strain was finished, 
 and addressed Madge by her name. But it produced no symp- 
 toms of recollection. On the contrary, the patient, like one 
 provoked by interruption, changed her posture, and called 
 out, with an impatient tone, " Nurse — nurse, turn my face to 
 the wa', that I may never answer to that name ony mair, and 
 never see mair of a wicked world." 
 
 The attendant on the hospital arranged her in her bed as 
 she desired, with her face to the wall and her back to the light. 
 So soon as she was quiet in this new position, she began again 
 to sing in the same low and modulated strains, as if she was 
 recovering the state of abstraction which the interruption of 
 her visitants had disturbed. The strain, however, was differ- 
 
403 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 ent, and rather resembled the music of the Methodist hymns, 
 though the measure of the song was similar to that of the 
 former ; 
 
 " When the fight of grace is fought, 
 When the marriage vest is wrought, 
 When Faith hath chased cold Doubt away, 
 And Hope but sickens at delay. 
 When Charity, imprisoned here, 
 Longs for a more expanded sphere, 
 Doff thy robes of sin and clay, 
 Christian, rise, and come away." 
 
 The strain was solemn and affecting, sustained as it was by 
 the pathetic warble of a voice which had naturally been a fine 
 one, and which weakness, if it diminished its power, had im- 
 proved in softness. Archibald, though a follower of the court, 
 and Q, pococurante by profession, was confused, if not affected ; 
 the dairymaid blubbered ; and Jeanie felt the tears rise spon- 
 taneously to her eyes. Even the nurse, accustomed to all 
 modes in which the spirit can pass, seemed considerably moved. 
 
 The patient was evidently growing weaker, as was intimated 
 by an apparent difficulty of breathing which seized her from 
 time to time, and by the utterance of low, listless moans, inti- 
 mating that nature was succumbing in the last conflict. But 
 the spirit of melody, which must originally have so strongly 
 possessed this unfortunate young woman, seemed, at every 
 interval of ease, to triumph over her pain and weakness. And it 
 was remarkable that there could always be traced in her songs 
 something appropriate, though perhaps only obliquely or col- 
 laterally so, to her present situation. Her next seemed to be 
 the fragment of some old ballad : 
 
 " Cauld is my bed, Lord Archibald, 
 And sad my sleep of sorrow ; 
 But thine sail be as sad and cauld, 
 My fause true-love, to-morrow. 
 
 " And weep ye not, my maidens free, 
 Though death your mistress borrow ; 
 For he for whom I die to-day 
 Sail die for me to-morrow." 
 
 Again she changed the tune to one wilder, less monoto- 
 nous, and less regular. But of the words only a fragment or 
 two could be collected by those who listened to this singular 
 scene : 
 
 * ' Proud Maisie is in the wood. 
 Walking so early. 
 Sweet Robin sits eta the bush, 
 Singing so rarely. 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 403 
 
 " ' Tell me, thou bonny bird, 
 When shall I marry me? 
 * When six braw gentlemen 
 Kirkward shall carry ye.* 
 
 *' ' Who mak(>s the bridal bed, 
 
 Birdie, say truly? ' 
 
 * The gray-headed sexton, 
 
 That delves the grave duly. 
 
 " The glowworm o'er grave and stone 
 Shall light thee steady ; 
 The owl from the steeple sing, 
 ' Welcome, proud lady.' " 
 
 Her voice died away with the last notes, and she fell into 
 a slumber, from which the experienced attendant assured 
 them that she never would awake at all, or only in the death- 
 agony. 
 
 The nurse's prophecy proved true. The poor maniac 
 parted with existence without again uttering a sound of any 
 kind. But our travellers did not witness this catastrophe. 
 They left the hospital as soon as Jeanie had satisfied herself 
 that no elucidation of her sister's misfortunes was to be hoped 
 from the dying person.* 
 
 * See Madge Wildfire. NoteM. 
 
CHAPTER XLI 
 
 Wilt thou go on with me? 
 The moon is bright, the sea is calm, 
 And I know well the ocean paths . . , 
 
 Thou wilt go on with me 1 
 
 Tfialaha. 
 
 The fatigue and agitation of these various scenes had agitated 
 Jeaiiie so mucii, notwitlistanding her robust strength of con- 
 stitution, that Arcliibald judged it necessary that slie sliould 
 have a day's repose at the village of Longtown. It was in 
 vain that Jeanie herself protested against any delay. The Duke 
 of Argyle's man of confidence was of course consequential ; 
 and as he had been bred to the medical profession in his 
 youth — at least he used this expression to describe his having, 
 thirty years before, pounded for six months in the mortar of 
 old Mungo Mangleman, the surgeon at Greenock — he was 
 obstinate whenever a matter of health was in question. 
 
 In this case he discovered febrile symptoms, and having 
 once made a happy application of that learned phrase to 
 Jeanie's case, all further resistance became in vain ; and she 
 was glad to acquiesce, and even to go to bed and drink water- 
 gruel, in order that she might possess her soul in quiet, and 
 without interruption. 
 
 Mr. Archibald was equally attentive in another particular. 
 He observed that the execution of the old woman, and the 
 miserable fate of her daughter, seemed to have had a more 
 powerful effect upon Jeanie's mind than the usual feelings of 
 humanity might naturally have been expected to occasion. 
 Yet she was obviously a strong-minded, sensible young wom- 
 an, and in no respect subject to nervous affections , and 
 therefore Archibald, being ignorant of any special connection 
 between his master's protegee and these unfortunate persons, 
 excepting that she had seen Madge formerly in Scotland, nat- 
 urally imputed the strong impression these events had made 
 upon her to her associating them with the unhappy circum- 
 stances in which her sister had so lately stood. He became 
 anxious, therefore, to prevent anything occurring which might 
 recall these associations to Jeanie's mind. 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 405 
 
 Archibald had speedily an opportunity of exercising this 
 precaution. A peddler brought to LongtoAvn that evening, 
 among other wares, a large broadside sheet, giving an ac- 
 count of the " Last Speech and Execution of Margaret Mur- 
 dockson, and of the Barbarous Murder of her Daughter, Mag- 
 dalene or Madge Murdockson, called Madge Wildfire ; and of 
 her Pious Conversation wiili his lieverence Archdeacon Flem- 
 ing ; " which authentic publication had apparently taken 
 place on the day they left Carlisle, and being an article of a 
 nature peculiarly acceptable to such country-folk as Were 
 within hearing of the transaction, the itinerant bibliopolist 
 had forthwith added them to his stock in trade. He found 
 a merchant sooner than lie expected ; for Archibald, much 
 applauding his own prudence, purcliased the whole lot for 
 two shillings and nine])ence ; and the peddler, delighted with 
 the profit of such a wholesale transaction, instantly returned 
 to Carlisle to supply himself witii more. 
 
 The considerate Mr. Archibald was about to commit his 
 whole purchase to the flames, but it was rescued by the yet 
 more considerate dairy-damsel, who said, very prudently, it 
 was a pity to waste so much ])aper, which might crejoe iiair, 
 pin up bonnets, and serve many other useful purposes ; and 
 who promised to put the parcel into her own trunk, and keep 
 it carefully out of the sight of Mrs. Jeanie Deans : '• Though, 
 by the by, she had no great notion of folk being so very nice. 
 Mrs. Deans might have had enough to think about the gal- 
 lows all this time to endure a sight of it, without all this to 
 do about it." 
 
 Archibald reminded tlie dame of the dairy of the Duke's 
 very particular charge that they should be attentive and civil 
 to Jeanie ; as also that they were to part company soon, and 
 consequently would not be doomed to observing any one's 
 health or temper during the rest of the journey ; with which 
 answer Mrs. Dolly Dutton Avas obliged to hold herself satisfied. 
 
 On the morning they resumed their journey, and prose- 
 cuted it successfully, travelling through Dumfriesshire and 
 part of Lanarkshire, until tliey arrived at the small town of 
 Rutherglen, within about four miles of Glasgow. Here an 
 express brought letters to Archibald from the principal agent 
 of the Duke of Argyle in Edinburgh. 
 
 He said nothing of their contents that evening ; but wlien 
 they were seated in the carriage the next day, the faithful 
 squire informed Jeanie that he had received directions from 
 the Duke's factor, to whom his Grace had recommended him 
 to carry her, if she had no objection, for a stage or two be- 
 
406 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 yond Glasgow. Some temporary causes of discontent had oc- 
 casioned tumults in tliat city and the neigliborhood, which 
 would render it unadvisable for Mrs. Jeanie Deans to travel 
 alone and unprotected betwixt that city and Edinburgh ; 
 whereas, by going forward a little further, they would meet 
 one of his Grace's sub-factors, who was coming down from 
 the Highlands to Edinburgh with his wife, and under whose 
 charge she might journey with comfort and in safety. 
 
 Jeanie remonstrated against this arrangement. " She had 
 beeti lang,'' she said, " frae hame : her father and her sister 
 behoved to be very anxious to see her ; there were other 
 friends she had that werena weel in health. She was willing 
 to pay for man and horse at Glasgow, and surely naebody wad 
 meddle wi' sae harmless and feckless a creature as she was. 
 She was muckle obliged by the offer ; but never hunted deer 
 langed for its resting-place as I do to find myself at St. 
 Leonard's." 
 
 The groom of the chambers exchanged a look with his 
 female companion, which seemed 'so full of meaning that 
 Jeanie screamed aloud — " 0, Mr. Archibald — Mrs. Dutton, 
 if ye ken of ony thing that has happened at St. Leonard's, 
 for God's sake — for pity's sake, tell me, and dinna keep me in 
 siuspense ! " 
 
 '' I really know nothing, Mrs. Deans," said the groom of 
 the chambers. 
 
 " And I — I — I am sure I knows as little," said the dame of 
 the dairy, while some communication seemed to tremble on 
 her lips, which, at a glance of Archibald's eye, she appeared 
 to swallow down, and compressed her lips thereafter into a 
 state of extreme and vigilant firmness, as if she had been 
 afraid of its bolting out before she was aware. 
 
 Jeanie saw that there was to be something concealed from 
 her, and it was only the repeated assurances of Archibald that 
 her father — her sister — all her friends were, as far as he 
 knew, well and happy, that at all pacified her alarm. From 
 such respectable people as those with whom she travelled she 
 could apprehend no harm, and yet her distress Avasso obvious 
 that Archibald, as a last resource, pulled out and put into her 
 hand a slip of paper, on which these words were written : 
 
 ** Jeanie Deans — You will do me a favor by going with 
 Archibald and my female domestic a day's journey beyond 
 Glasgow, and asking them no questions, which will greatly 
 oblige your friend, 
 
 " Argyle & Geeenwich." 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 407 
 
 Although this laconic epistle, from a nobleman to whom 
 she was bound by such inestimable obligations, silenced all 
 Jeanie's objections to the proposed route, it rather added to 
 than diminislied tlie eiigerness of her curiosity. The pro- 
 ceeding to Ghisgow seemed now no longer to be an object with 
 her fellow-travellers. On the contrary, they kept the left- 
 hand side of the river Clyde, and travelled through a thou- 
 sand beautiful and changing views downtlie side of that noble 
 stream, till, ceasing to hold its inland character, it began to 
 assume tliat of a navigable river. 
 
 " You are not forgaun intill Glasgow, then ?^*said Jeanie, 
 as she observed tlnit the drivers made no motion for inclining 
 their horses' heads towards the ancient bridge, which was 
 then tlie only mode of access to St. Mungo's capital. 
 
 " No," replied Archibald ; "there is some popular commo- 
 tion, and as our Duke is in opposition to the court, perhaps 
 we might be too well received ; or they might take it in their 
 heads to remember that the Captain of Carrick came down 
 upon them with his Highlandmen in the time of Shawfield's 
 mob * in 1725, and then we would be too ill received. And, 
 at any rate, it is best for lis, and for me in particular, who 
 may be supposed to possess his Grace's mind upon many par- 
 ticulars, to leave the good people of the Gorbals to act ac- 
 cording to their own imaginations, without either provoking 
 or encouraging them by my presence." 
 
 To reasoning of such tone and consequence Jeanie had 
 nothing to reply, although it seemed to her to contain fully 
 as much self-importance as truth. 
 
 The carriage meantime rolled on ; the river expanded it- 
 self, and gradually assumed the dignity of an estuary, or arm 
 of the sea. The influence of the advancing and retiring 
 tides became more and more evident, and in the beautiful 
 words of him of the laurel wreath, the river waxed 
 
 A broader and a broader stream. 
 
 The cormorant stands upon its shoals. 
 His black and dripping wings 
 Half d^en'd to the wind.f 
 
 " Which way lies Inverary ? " said Jeanie, gazing on the 
 dusky ocean of Highland hills, which now, piled above each 
 other, and intersected by many a lake, stretched away on the 
 opposite side of the river to the northward. " Is yon high cas- 
 tle the Duke's hoose ?" 
 
 • See Note 34. 
 
 tFrom Southey's Thalaba, Bk. XI., stanza 36 (Laing^. 
 
408 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 " That, Mrs. Deans ? Lud help thee," replied Archibald ; 
 ''tuat's the old Castle of Dunbarrou, tlie strongest place in 
 Europe, be the other what it may. Sir William Wallace was 
 governor of it in the old wars with the English, and his Grace 
 is governor just now. It is always intrusted to the best man 
 in Scotland." 
 
 " And does the Duke live on that high rock, then ?" de- 
 manded Jeanie. 
 
 " No, no, he has his deputy-governor, who commands 
 in his absence ; he lives in the white house you see at the 
 bottom of the rock. His Grace does not reside there him- 
 self." 
 
 ''I think not, indeed," said the dairywoman, upon whose 
 mind the road, since they had left Dumfries, had made no 
 very favorable impression ; " for if he did, he might go whistle 
 for a dairywoman, an he were the only duke in England. I 
 did not leave my place and my friends to come down to see 
 cows starve to death upon hills as they be at that pig-stye of 
 Elfiiifoot, as you call it, Mr. Archibald, or to be perched up 
 on the top of a rock, like a squirrel in his cage, hung out of 
 a three pair of stairs window." 
 
 Inwardly chuckling that these symptoms of recalcitration 
 had not taken place until the fair malcontent was, as he men- 
 tally termed it, under his thumb, Archibald coolly replied, 
 "^ That the hills were none of his making, nor did he know how 
 to mend them ; but as to lodging, they would soon be in a 
 house of the Duke's in a very pleasant island called Rose- 
 ne itli, where they went to wait for shipping to take them to 
 Inverary, and would meet the company withwhom Jeanie was 
 to return to Edinburgh." 
 
 '''An island !" said Jeanie, who, in the course of her va- 
 rious and adventurous travels, had never quitted terra firma, 
 " then I am doubting we maun gang in ane of these boats ; 
 they look unco sma', and the waves are something rough, 
 and " 
 
 " Mr. Archibald," said Mrs. Dutton, "I will not consent 
 to it ; I was never engaged to leave the country, and I desire 
 you will bid the boys drive round the other way to the Duke's 
 house." 
 
 " There is a safe pinnace belonging to his Grace, ma'am, 
 close by," replied Archibald, "and you need be under no ap- 
 prehensions whatsoever. " 
 
 '^'^But I am under apprehensions," said the damsel ; '*^and 
 I insist upon going round by land, Mr. Archibald, were it ten 
 miles about." 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 409 
 
 '' I am sorry I cannot oblige you, madam, as Roseneath 
 happens to be an island/' 
 
 " If it were ten islands," said the incensed dame, *' that's 
 no reason why I should be drowned in going over the seas to 
 it." 
 
 "No reason why you should be drowned, certainly, 
 ma'am," answered the unmoved groom of the chambers, " but 
 an admirable good one why you cannotproceed to it by hind," 
 And, fixed his master's mandates to perform, lie pointed with 
 his hand, and the drivers, turning off the high-road, proceeded 
 towards a small hamlet of fishing huts, where a shallop, some- 
 what more gayly decorated than any which they had yet seen, 
 having a flag which displayed a boar's head, crested with a 
 ducal coronet, waited with two or three seamen and as many 
 Highlanders. 
 
 The carriage stopped, and the men began to unyoke their 
 horses, while Mr. Archibald gravely superintended the removal 
 of the baggage from the carriage to the little vessel. " Has 
 the ' Caroline' been long arrived ?" said Archibald to one of 
 the seamen. 
 
 " She has been here in five days from Liverpool, and she's 
 lying down at Greenock," answered the fellow. 
 
 " Let the horses and carriage go down to Greenock, then," 
 said Archibald, "and be embarked there forlnverary when I 
 send notice : they may stand in my cousin's, Duncan Archi- 
 bald the stabler's. Ladies," he added, " I hope you will get 
 yourselves ready, we must not lose the tide." 
 
 " Mrs. Deans," said the Cowslip of Inverary, "you may 
 do as you please, but I will sit here all night, rather than go 
 into that there painted egg-shell. Fellow — fellow ! [this was 
 addressed to a Highlander who was lifting a travelling trunk], 
 that trunk is mine, and that there bandbox, and tliat pillion 
 mail, and those seven bundles, and the paper bag ; and if you 
 venture to touch one of them, it shall be at your peril." 
 
 The Celt kept his eye fixed on the speaker, then turned his 
 head towards Archibald, and receiving no countervailing sig- 
 nal, he shouldered the portmanteau, and without further no- 
 tice of the distressed damsel, or paying any attention to re- 
 monstrances, which probably he did not understand, and 
 would certainly have eqiially disregarded whether he under- 
 stood them or not, moved oi? with Mrs. Dutton's wearables, 
 and deposited the trunk containing them safely in the boat. 
 
 The baggage being stowed in safety, Mr. Archibald handed 
 Jeanie out of the carriage, and, not without some tremor on 
 her part, she was transported through the surf and placed in 
 
410 ■ WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 the boat. He then offered the same civility to his fellow-serv- 
 ant, but she was resolute in her refusal to quit the carriage, 
 in which she now remained in solitary state, threatening all 
 concerned or unconcerned with actions for wages and board- 
 wages, damages and expenses, and numbering on her fingers 
 the gowns and other habiliments from which she seemed in 
 the act of being separated forever. Mr. Archibald did not 
 give himself the trouble of making many remonstrances, 
 which, indeed, seemed only to aggravate the damsel's indig- 
 nation, but spoke two or three words to the Highlanders in 
 Gaelic ; and the wily mountaineers, approaching the carriage 
 cautiously, and without giving the slightest intimation of their 
 intention, at once seized the recusant so eifectually fast that 
 she could neither resist nor struggle, and hoisting her on their 
 shoulders in nearly an horizontal posture, rushed dowu with 
 her to the beach, and through the surf, and, with no other 
 inconvenience than ruffling her garments a little, deposited 
 Iier in the boat ; but in a state of surprise, mortification, and 
 terror at her sudden transportation which rendered her ab- 
 solutely mute for two or three minutes. The men jumped in 
 themselves ; one tall fellow remained till he had pushed oft' 
 the boat, and then tumbled in upon his companions. They 
 took their oars and began to pull from the shore, then spread 
 their sail and drove merrily across the firth. 
 
 " You Scotch villain ! " said the infuriated damsel to Archi- 
 bald, 'Miow dare you use a person like me in this way ?" 
 
 " Madam," said Archibald, with infinite composure, " it's 
 high time you should know you are in the Duke's country. 
 and that there is not one of these fellows but would throw you 
 out of the boat as readily as into it, if such were his Grace's 
 pleasure.'' 
 
 " Then the Lord have mercy on me ! " said Mrs. Dutton. 
 *' If I had had any on myself I would never have engaged with 
 you." 
 
 " It's something of the latest to think of that now, Mrs. 
 Dutton," said Archibald ; " but I assure you, you will find 
 the Highlands have their pleasures. You will have a dozen 
 of cow-milkers under your own authority at Inverary, and 
 you may throw any of them into the lake if you have a mind, 
 for the Duke's head people are almost as great as himself." 
 
 " This is a strange business, to be sure, Mr. Archibald," 
 said the lady ; " but I suppose I must make the best on't. 
 Are you sure the boat will not sink ? it leans terribly to one 
 side, in my poor mind." 
 
 "Fear nothing," said Mr. Archibald, taking a most ini- 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 411 
 
 portant pinch of snnff ; "this same ferry on Clyde knows os 
 very well, or we know it, which is all the same ; no fear of 
 any of onr people meeting with any accident. We should 
 have crossed from the opposite shore, but for the disturbances 
 at Glasgow, which made it improper for his Grace's people to 
 pass through the city." 
 
 " Are you not afeard, Mrs. Deans,'* said the dairy vestal, 
 addressing Jeanie, who sat, not in the most comfortable state 
 of mind, by the side of Archibald, who himself managed the 
 helm — "are you not afeard of these wild men with their 
 naked knees, and of this nutshell of a thing, that seems bob- 
 bing up and down like a skimming-dish in a milk-pail V 
 
 "No — no, madam," answered Jeanie, with some hesita- 
 tion, " I am not feared ; for I hae seen Hielandmen before, 
 though I never was sae near them ; and for the danger of the 
 deep waters, I trust there is a Providence by sea as well as by 
 land." 
 
 " Well," said Mrs. Button, "it is a beautiful thing to have 
 learned to write and read, for one can always say such fine 
 words whatever should befall them." 
 
 Archibald, rejoicing in the impression which his vigorous 
 measures had made upon the intractable dairymaid, now ap- 
 plied himself, as a sensible and good-natured man, to secure 
 by fair means the ascendency which he had obtained by 
 some wholesome violence ; and he succeeded so well in repre- 
 senting to her the idle nature of her fears, and the impossi- 
 bility of leaving her upon the beach enthroned in an empty 
 carriage, that the good understanding of the party was com- 
 pletely revived ere they landed at Roseneath. 
 
CHAPTER XLII 
 
 Did Fortune guide. 
 Or rather Destiny, our bark, to which 
 We could appoint no port, to this best place ? 
 
 Fletcher. 
 
 The islands in the Firth of Clyde, which the daily passage of 
 so many smoke-pennoned steamboats now renders so easily 
 accessible, were in our fathers' times secluded spots, frequented 
 by no travellers, and few visitants of any kind. They are of 
 exquisite yet varied beauty. Arran, a mountainous region, or 
 j\lpine island, abounds with the grandest and most romantic 
 scenery. Bute is of a softer and more woodland character. 
 The Oumrays, as if to exhibit a contrast to both, are green, 
 level, and bare, forming the links of a sort of natural bar, 
 which is drawn along the mouth of the firth, leaving large 
 intervals, however, of ocean. Eoseneath, a smaller isle, lies 
 much higher up the firth, and towards its western shore, near 
 the opening of the lake called the Gare Loch, and not far 
 from Loch Long and Loch Scant, or the Holy Loch, which 
 wind from the mountains of the Western Highlands to join 
 the estuary of the Clyde. 
 
 In these isles the severe frost winds which tyrannize over 
 the vegetable creation during a Scottish spring are compara- 
 tively little felt ; nor, excepting the gigantic strength of Arran, 
 are they much exposed to the Atlantic storms, lying land- 
 locked and protected to the westward by the shores of Ayr- 
 shire [Argyllshire]. Accordingly, the weeping-willow, the 
 weeping-birch, and other trees of early and pendulous shoots, 
 flourish in these favored recesses in a degree unknown in our 
 eastern districts ; and the air is also said to possess that mild- 
 ness which is favorable to consumptive cases. 
 
 The picturesque beauty of the island of Eoseneath, in 
 
 Particular, had such recommendations that the Earls and 
 >ukes of Argyle from an early period made it their occasional 
 residence, and had their temporary accommodation in a fish- 
 ing or hunting lodge, which succeeding improvements have 
 
 413 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 413 
 
 since transformed into a palace. It was in its original sim- 
 plicity when the little bark which we left traversing the firth 
 at the end of last chapter approached the shores of the isle. 
 
 When they touched the landing-place,' which was partly 
 shrouded by some old low but wide-spreading oak trees, inter- 
 mixed with hazel-bushes, two or three figures were seen as if 
 awaiting their arrival. To these Jeanie paid little attention, 
 so that it was with a shock of surprise almost electrical that, 
 upon being carried by the rowers out of the boat to the shore, 
 she was received in the arms of her father ! 
 
 It was too wonderful to be believed — too much like a happy 
 dream to have the stable feeling of reality. She extriccited 
 herself from his close and affectionate embrace, and held him 
 at arm's length to satisfy her mind that it was no illusion. 
 But the form was indisputable — Douce David Deans himself, 
 in his best light blue Sunday's coat, with broad metal buttons, 
 and waistcoat and breeches of the same ; his strong gramashes 
 or leggins of thick gray cloth ; the very copper buckles ; the 
 broad Lowland blue bonnet, thrown back as he lifted his eyes 
 to Heaven in speechless gratitude ; the gray locks that strag- 
 gled from beneath it down his weather-beaten '* haffets ; " 
 the bald and furrowed forehead ; the clear blue eye, that, un- 
 dimmed by years, gleamed bright and pale from under its 
 shaggy gray pent-house ; the features, usually so stern and 
 stoical, now melted into the unwonted expression of rapturous 
 joy, affection, and gratitude — were all those of David Deans ; 
 and so liappily did they assort together, that, should 1 ever 
 again see my friends Wilkie or Allan, I will try to borrow or 
 steal from them a sketch of this very scene. 
 
 " Jeanie — my ain Jeanie — my best — my maist dutiful 
 bairn ! The Lord of Israel be thy father, for I am hardly 
 worthy of thee ! Thou hast redeemed our captivity, brought 
 back the honor of our house. Bless thee, my bairn, with 
 mercies pi'omised and purchased ! But He has blessed thee, 
 in the good of which He has made thee the instrument." 
 
 These words broke from him not withorit tears, though 
 David was of no melting mood. Archibald had, with deli- 
 cate attention, withdrawn the sj^ectators from the interview, 
 60 that the wood and setting sun alone were witnesses of the 
 expansion of their feelings. 
 
 " And Effie ? — and Effie, dear father ? " was an eager in- 
 terjectional question which Jeanie repeatedly threw in among 
 her expressions of joyful thankfulness. 
 
 " Ye will hear — ye will hear," said David, hastily, and 
 ever and anon renewed his grateful acknowledgments to 
 
414 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 Hearen for sending Jeanie safe down from the land of pre- 
 latic deadness and schismatic heresy ; and had delivered her 
 from the dangers of the way, and the lions that were in the 
 path. 
 
 ''And Effie ?'* repeated her affectionate sister again and 
 again. " And — and [fain would she have said Butler, but 
 she modified the direct inquiry]— and Mr. and Mrs. Saddle- 
 tree — and Dumbiedikes — and a' friends ?" 
 
 "A' weel — a' weel, praise to His name ! " 
 
 " And — and Mr. Butler ? He wasna weel when I gaed 
 awa. 
 
 " He is quite mended — quite weel/' replied her father. 
 
 " Thank God ! but 0, dear father, Effie ?— Effie ? " 
 
 " You will never see her mair, my bairn,^' answered Deans 
 m a solemn tone. " You are the ae and only leaf left now on 
 the auld tree ; heal be your portion ! " 
 
 " She is dead ! She is slain ! It has come ower late ! " 
 exclaimed Jeanie, wringing her hands. 
 
 " No, Jeanie," returned Deans, in the same grave, melan- 
 choly tone. " She lives in the flesh, and is at freedom from 
 earthly restraint, if she were as much alive in faith and as free 
 from the bonds of Satan." 
 
 " The Lord protect us ! " said Jeanie. '' Can the unhap- 
 py bairn hae left you for that villain ?" 
 
 " It is ower truly spoken," said Deans. " She has left her 
 auld father, that has wept and prayed for her. She has left 
 her sister, that travailed and toiled for her like a mother. 
 She lias left the bones of her mother, and the land of her peo- 
 ple, and she is ower the march wi' that son of Belial. She has 
 made a moonlight flitting of it." He paused, for a feeling 
 betwixt sorrow and strong resentment choked his utterance. 
 
 "And wi' that man — that fearfu' man?" said Jeanie. 
 '' And she has left us to gang aff wi' him ? Effie, Effie, 
 wha could hae thought it, after sic a deliverance as you had 
 been gifted wi' !" 
 
 " She went out from us, my bairn, because she was not of 
 us," replied David. " She is a withered branch will never 
 bear fruit of grace — a scapegoat gone forth into the wilderness 
 of the world, to carry wi' her, as I trust, the sins of our little 
 congregation. The peace of the warld gang wi' her, and a 
 better peace when she has the grace to turn to it ! If she is 
 of His elected. His ain hour will come. What would her 
 mother have said, that famous and memorable matron, Eebec- 
 ca M* Naught, whose memory is like a flower of sweet savor 
 in Newbattle and a pot of frankincense in Lugton ? But be 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 415 
 
 it sae ; let her part — let her gang her gate — let her hite on her 
 ain bridle. The Lord kens His time. She was the bairn of 
 prayers, and may not prove an ntter castaAvay. But never, 
 Jeanie — never more let her name be spoken between you and 
 me. She hath passed from us like the brook which vanisheth 
 when the summer waxeth warm, as patient Job saith ; let her 
 pass, and be forgotten." 
 
 There was a melancholy pause which followed these ex- 
 pressions. Jeanie would fain have asked more circumstances 
 relating to her sister's departure, but the tone of her father's 
 prohibition was positive. She was about to mention her in- 
 terview with Staunton at his father's rectory ; but, on hastily 
 running over the particulars in her memory, she thought that, 
 on the whole, they were more likely to aggravate than dimin- 
 ish his distress of mind. She turned, therefore, the discourse 
 from this painful subject, resolving to suspend further inquiry 
 until she should see Butler, from whom she expected to learn 
 the particulars of her sister's elopement. 
 
 But when was she to see Butler ? was a question she could 
 not forbear asking herself, especially while her father, as if 
 eager to escape from the subject of his youngest daughter, 
 pointed to the opposite shore of Dunbartonshire, and asking 
 Jeanie " if it werena a pleasant abode ?" declared to her his 
 intention of removing his earthly tabernacle to that country, 
 " in respect he was solicited by his Grace the Duke of Argyle, 
 as one well skilled in country labor and a' that aj^pertained 
 to flocks and herds, to superintend a store farm whilk his 
 Grace had taen into his ain hand for the improvement of 
 stock." 
 
 Jeanie's heart sunk within her at this declaration. " She 
 allowed it was a goodly and pleasant land, and sloped bonnily 
 to the western sun ; and she doubtedna that the pasture might 
 be very gude, for the grass looked green, for as drouthy as the 
 weather had been. But it was far f rae hame, and she thought 
 she wad be often thinking on the bonny spots of turf, sae f u' of 
 gowans and yellow kingcups, amang the Crags at St. Leon- 
 ard's." 
 
 " Dinna speak on't, Jeanie," said her father ; "I wish never 
 to hear it named mair — that is, after the rouping is ower, and 
 the bills paid. But I brought a' the beasts ower-bye that I 
 thought ye wad like best. There is Gowans, and there's your 
 ain brockit cow, and the wee hawkit ane, that ye ca'd — I needna 
 tell ye how ye ca'd it ; but I couldna bid them sell the petted 
 creature, though the sight o't may sometimes gie us a sair heart : 
 it's no the poor dumb creature's fault. And ane or twa beasts 
 
416 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 mair I li.ie reserved, and I caused them to be driven before the 
 
 other beasts, that men might say, as when the son of Jesse 
 returned from battle, 'This is David^s spoil/" 
 
 Upon more particular inquiry, Jeanie found new occasion to 
 admire the active beneficence of her friend the Duke of Argyle. 
 While establishing a sort of experimental farm on the skirts of 
 his immense Highland estates, he had been somewhat at a loss 
 to find a proper person in whom to vest the charge of it. The 
 conversation his Grace had upon country matters with Jeanie 
 Deans during their return from Richmond had impressed him 
 with a belief that the father, whose experience and success she 
 so frequently quoted, must be exactly the sort of person whom 
 he wanted. When the condition annexed to Efifie's pardon 
 rendered it highly probable that David Deans would choose to 
 change his place of residence, this idea again occurred to the 
 Dake more strongly, and as he was an enthusiast equally in 
 agriculture and in benevolence, he imagined he was serving the 
 purposes of both when he wrote to the gentleman in Edinburgh 
 intrusted with his affairs to inquire into the character of David 
 Deans, cow-feeder, and so forth, at St. Leonardos Crags ; and 
 if he found him such as he had been represented, to engage him 
 without delay, and on the most liberal terms, to superintend 
 his fancy-farm in Dunbartonshire. 
 
 The proposal was made to old David by the gentleman so 
 commissioned on the second day after his daughter's pardon 
 had reached Edinburgh. His resolution to leave St. Leon- 
 ard's had been already formed ; the honor of an express invi- 
 tation from the Duke of Argyle to superintend a department 
 where so much skill and diligence was required was in itself 
 extremely flattering ; and the more so, because honest David, 
 who was not without an excellent opinion of his own talents, 
 persuaded himself that, by accepting this charge, he would in 
 some sort repay the great favor he had received at the hands 
 of the Argyle family. The appointments, including the right 
 of sufficient grazing for a small stock of his own, were amply 
 liberal ; and David's keen eye saw that the situation was con- 
 venient for trafficking to advantage in Highland cattle. There 
 was risk of " hership" from the neighboring mountains, in- 
 deed, but the awful name of the Duke of Argyle would be a 
 great security, and a trifle of blackmail would, David was 
 aware, assure his safety. 
 
 Still, however, there were two points on which he haggled. 
 The first was the character of the clergyman with whose 
 worship he was to join ; and on this delicate point he received, 
 as we will presei-tly show the reader, perfect satisfaction. 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 417 
 
 The next obstacle was the condition of his youngest daughter, 
 obliged as she was to leave Scothmd for so many years. 
 
 The gentleman of the law smiled, and said, " There was 
 no occasion to interpret that clause very strictly ; tliat if the 
 young woman left Scotland for a few months, or even weeks, 
 and came to her father's new residence by sea from the 
 western side of England, nobody would know of her arrival, 
 or at least nobody who had either the right or inclination 
 to give her disturbance. The extensive heritable jurisdic- 
 tions of his Grace excluded the interference of other magis- 
 trates with tliose living on his estates, and they who were in 
 immediate dependence on him would receive orders to give 
 the young woman no disturbance. Living on the verge of 
 the Highlands, she might, indeed, be said to be out of Scot- 
 land, that is, beyond the bounds of ordinary law and civil- 
 ization." 
 
 Old Deans was not quite satisfied with this reasoning ; but 
 the elopement of Effie, which took place on the third night 
 after her liberation, rendered his residence at St. Leonard's 
 so detestable to him that he closed at once with the proposal 
 which had been made him, and entered with pleasure into 
 the idea of surprising Jeanie, as had been proposed by the 
 Duke, to render the change of residence more striking to 
 her. The Duke had apprised Archibald of these circum- 
 stances, with orders to act according to the instructions he 
 should receive from Edinburgh, and by which accordingly 
 he was directed to bring Jeanie to Roseneatli. 
 
 The father and daughter communicated these matters to 
 each other, now stopping, now walking slowly towards the 
 Lodge, which showed itself among the trees, at about half a 
 mile's distance from the little bay in which they had landed. 
 
 As they approached the house, David Deans informed his 
 daughter, with somewhat like a grim smile, which was the 
 utmost advance he ever made towards a mirthful expression 
 of visage, that "there was baith a worshipful gentleman and 
 ane reverend gentleman residing therein. The worshipful 
 gentleman was his honor the Laird of Knocktarlitie, who 
 was bailie of the lordship under the Duke of Argyle, ane 
 Hieland gentleman, tarred wi* the same stick." David 
 doubted, " as mony of them, namely, a hasty and choleric 
 temper, and a neglect of the higher things that belong to 
 salvation, and also a gripping unto the things of this world, 
 without muckle distinction of ])roperty ; but, however, ane 
 gude hospitable gentleman, with whom it would be a part of 
 wisdom to live on a gude understanding ; for Hielandmen 
 
418 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 were hasty — ower hasty. As for the reverend person of 
 whom he had spoken, he was candidate by favor of the Duke 
 of Argyle (for David would not for the universe have called 
 him presentee) for the kirk of the parish in which their 
 farm was situated, and he was likely to be highly acceptable 
 unto the Christian souls of the parish, who were hungering 
 for spiritual manna, having been fed but upon sour Hieland 
 sowens by Mr. Duncan MacDonought, the last minister, 
 who began the morning duly, Sunday and Saturday, with a 
 mutchkin of usquebaugh. But I need say the less about 
 the present lad,"' said David, again grimly grimacing, "as 
 I think ye may hae seen him afore ; and here he is come to 
 meet us.'' 
 
 She had indeed seen him before, for it was no other than 
 Reuben Butler himself. 
 
CHAPTEB XLin 
 
 No more shalt thou behold thy sister's face ; 
 Thou hast already had her last embrace. 
 
 Elegy on Mrs. Anne Killigrew. 
 
 This second surprise had been accomplished for Jeanie Deans 
 by the rod of the same benevolent enchanter whose power 
 had transplanted her father from the Crags of St. Leonardos 
 to the banks of the Gare Loch. The Duke of Argyle was 
 not a person to forget the hereditary debt of gratitude which 
 had been bequeathed to him by his grandfather in favor of 
 the grandson of old Bible Butler. He had internally re- 
 solved to provide for Reuben Butler in this kirk of Knock- 
 tarlitie, of which the incumbent had just departed this life. 
 Accordingly, his agent received the necessary instructions 
 for that purpose, under the qualifying condition always that 
 the learning and character of Mr. Butler should be found 
 proper for the charge. Upon inquiry, these were found as 
 highly satisfactory as had been reported in the case of David 
 Deans himself. 
 
 By this i^referment, the Duke of Argyle more essentially 
 benefitted his friend and protegee, Jeanie, than he himself 
 was aware of, since he contributed to remove objections in 
 her father's mind to the match, which he had no idea had 
 been in existence. 
 
 We have already noticed that Deans had something of a 
 prejudice against Butler, which v/as, perhaps, in some degree 
 owing to his possessing a sort of consciousness that the poor 
 usher looked with eyes of affection upon his eldest daughter. 
 This, in David's eyes, was a sin of presumption, even al- 
 though it should not be followed by any overt act or actual 
 proposal. But the lively interest which Butler had dis- 
 played in his distresses since Jeanie set forth on her London 
 expedition, and which, therefore, he ascribed to personal 
 respect for himself individually, had greatly softened the 
 feelings of irritability with which David had sometimes re- 
 garded him. And, Avhile he was in this good disposition 
 towards Butler, another incident took place which had great 
 influence on the old man's mind. 
 
 419 
 
420 WA VERLEY NO VELS 
 
 So soon as the shock of Effie's second elopement was over, 
 it was Deans's early care to collect and refund to the Laird 
 of Dumbiedikes the money which he had lent for Effie's trial 
 and for Jeanie's traveling expenses. The Laird, the pony, 
 the cocked hat, and the tobacco-pipe had not been seen at 
 St. Leonard's Crags for many a day ; so that, in order to pay 
 this debt, David was under the necessity of repairing in 
 person to the mansion of Dumbiedikes. 
 
 He found it in a state of unexpected bustle. There were 
 workmen pulling down some of the old hangings and replac- 
 ing them with others, altering, repairing, scrubbing, paint- 
 ing, and whitewashing. There was no knowing the old 
 house, which had been so long the mansion of sloth and 
 silence. The Laird himself seemed in some confusion, and 
 his reception, though kind, lacked something of the rever- 
 ential cordiality with which he used to greet David Deans. 
 There was a change also, David did nob very well know of 
 what nature, about the exterior of this landed proprietor — an 
 improvement in the shape of his garments, a spruceness in 
 the air with which they were put on, that were both novel- 
 ties. Even the old hat looked smarter ; the cock had been 
 newly pointed, the lace had been refreshed, and instead of 
 slouching backward or forward on the Laird's head as it 
 happened to be thrown on, it was adjusted with a knowing 
 inclination over one eye. 
 
 David Deans opened his business and told down the cash. 
 Dumbiedikes steadily inclined his ear to the one, and counted 
 the other with great accuracy, interrupting David, while he 
 was talking of the redemption of the captivity of Judah, to 
 ask him whether he did not think one or two of the guineas 
 looked rather light. When he was satisfied on this point, 
 had pocketed his money, and had signed a receipt, he ad- 
 dressed David with some little hesitation — " Jeanie wad be 
 writing ye something, gudeman ? " 
 
 " About the siller ? " replied Davie. " Nae doubt she 
 did." 
 
 *' And did she say nae mair about me ? " asked the Laird 
 
 " Nae mair but kind and Christian wishes ; what suld she 
 hae said ? " replied David, fully expecting that the Laird's 
 long courtship, if his dangling after Jeanie deserves so active 
 a name, was now coming to a point. And so indeed it was, 
 but not to that point which he wished or expected. 
 
 " Aweel, she kens her ain mind best, gudeman. T hae 
 made a clean house o' Jenny Balchristie and her niece. 
 They were a bad pack — stealed meat and mault, and loot 
 
THE TTEA RT OF MID L TUIA N 4?1 
 
 the carters magg the coals. I'm to l)e married the morn, 
 and kirkit on Sunday." 
 
 Whatever David felt, he was too proud and too steady- 
 minded to show tiny unpleasant surprise in his countenance 
 and manner. 
 
 " I wuss ye happy, sir, through Him that gies happinessj 
 marriage is an honorable state." 
 
 "And I am wedding into an honorable house, David — the 
 Laird of Lickpelf's youngest daughter; she sits next us in 
 i^^he kirk, and that's the way I came to think on't." 
 
 There was no more to be said, but again to wish the Laird 
 joy, to taste a cup of his liquor, and to walk back again to 
 St. Leonard's, musing on the mutability of human affairs 
 and human resolutions. The expectation that one day or 
 other Jeauie would be Lady Duinbiedikes had, in spite of 
 himself, kept a more absolute possession of David's mind 
 than be himself was aware of. At least it had hitherto 
 seemed an union at all times within his daughter's reach, 
 whenever she might choose to give her silent lover any de- 
 gree of encouragement, and now it was vanished forever. 
 David returned, therefore, in no very gracious humor for 
 so good a man. He was angry with Jeanie for not having 
 encouraged the Laird; he was angry with the Laird for re- 
 quiring encouragement; and he was angry with himself for 
 being angry at all on the occasion. 
 
 On his return ho found the gentleman who managed the 
 Duke of Argyle's affairs was desirous of seeing him, with a 
 view to completing the arrangement between them. Thus, 
 after a brief repose, he was obliged to set off anew for Edin- 
 burgh, so that old May Hattly declared, " That a' this was 
 to end with the master just walking himself aff his feet." 
 
 Wlien the business respecting the farm had been talked 
 over and arranged, the professional gentleman acquainted 
 David Deans, iu answer to his inquiries concerning the state 
 of public worship, that it was the pleasure of the Duke to 
 put an excellent young clergyman called Reuben Butler into 
 the parish, which was to be his future residence. 
 
 " Eeuben Butler !" exclaimed David — "Reuben Butler, 
 the usher at Libberton ? " 
 
 "The very same," said the Duke's commissioner. "His 
 Grace has heard an excellent character of him, and has some 
 hereditary obligations to him besides; few ministers will be 
 go comfortable as 1 am directed to make Mr. Butler." 
 
 '■ Obligaiic-'rii The Dukei Obligations to Reuben 
 Butler I Reuben Butler a piac&d minister of the Kirk of 
 
422 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 Scotland !" exclaimed David, in interminable astonishment; 
 for somehow he had been led by the bad success which But- 
 ler had hitherto met with in all his undertakings to consider 
 him as one of those stepsons of Fortune whom she treats 
 with unceasing rigor, and ends with disinheriting alto- 
 gether. 
 
 There is, perhaps, no time at which we are disposed to 
 think so highly of a friend as when we find him standing 
 higher than we expected in the esteem of others. When 
 assured of the reality of Butlers change of prosj^ects, David 
 expressed his great satisfaction at his success in life, which 
 he observed, was entirely owing to himself (David). "I 
 advised his puir grandmother, who was but a silly woman, 
 to breed him up to the ministry ; and 1 prophesied that, 
 with a blessing on his endeavors, he would become a pol- 
 ished shaft in the temple. He may be something ower 
 proud o' his carnal learning, but a gude lad, and has the 
 root of the matter ; as ministers gang now, where ye^ll find 
 ane better, ye'll find ten waur than Eeuben Butler.''^ 
 
 He took leave of the man of business and walked home- 
 ward, forgetting his weariness in the various speculations 
 to which this wonderful piece of intelligence gave rise. 
 Honest David had now, like other great men, to go to work 
 to reconcile his speculative principles with existing circum- 
 stances-; and, like other great men, when they set seriously 
 about that task, he was tolerably successful. 
 
 " Ought Eeuben Butler in conscience to accept of this 
 preferment in the Kirk of Scotland, subject (as David at 
 present thought that establishment was) to the Erastian 
 encroachments of the civil power ? " This was the leading 
 question, and he considered it carefully. " The Kirk of 
 Scotland was shorn of its beams, and deprived of its full 
 artillery and banners of authority ; but still it contained 
 zealous and fructifying pastors, attentive congregations, and 
 with all her spots and blemishes, the like of this kirk was 
 nowhere else to be seen upon earth." 
 
 David's doubts had been too many and too critical to per- 
 mit him ever unequivocally to unite himself with any of the 
 dissenters, who, upon various accounts absolutely seceded 
 from the national church. He had often joined in com- 
 munion with such of the established clergy as approached 
 nearest to the old Presbyterian model and principles of 1640. 
 And although there were many things to be amended in 
 that system, yet he remembered that he, David Deans, had 
 himself ever been a humble pleader for the good old cause 
 
TEE HEART OF MID L O TBI A N 42.3 
 
 in a legal way, but without rushing into right-hand excesses, 
 divisions, and separations. But, as an enemy to separation, 
 he might join tlie right-hand of fellowsliip with a minister 
 of the Kirk of Scotland in its present model. Errjo, Reu- 
 ben Butler might take possession of the parish of Knock- 
 tarlitie without forfeiting his friendship or favor — Q. E. D. 
 But, secondly came the trying point of lay patronage, which 
 David Deans had ever maintained to be a coming in by the 
 window and over the wall, a cheating and starving the souls 
 of a whole parish, for the purpose of clothing the back and 
 filling the belly of the incumbent. 
 
 This presentation, therefore, from the Duke of Argyle, 
 whatever was the worth and high character of that noble- 
 man, was a limb of the brazen image, a portion of the evil 
 thing, and with no kind of consistency could David bend 
 his mind to favor such a transaction. But if the parish- 
 ioners themselves joined in a general call to Reuben Butler 
 to be their pastor, it did not seem quite so evident that the 
 existence of this unhappy presentation was a reason for his 
 refusing them the comforts of his doctrine. If the presby- 
 tery admitted him to the kirk in virtue rather of that act of 
 patronage than of the general call of the congregation, that 
 might be their error, and David allowed it was a heavy one. 
 But if Reuben Butler accepted of the cure as tendered to 
 him by those whom he was called to teach, and who had ex- 
 pressed themselves desirous to learn, David, after consider- 
 ing and reconsidering the matter, came, through the great 
 virtue of "if," to be of opinion that he might safely so act 
 in that matter. 
 
 There remained a third stumbling-block — the oaths to 
 government exacted from the established clergymen, in 
 which they acknowledge an Erastian king and parliament, 
 and homologate the incorporating Union between England 
 and Scotland, through which the latter kingdom had become 
 part and portion of the former, wherein Prelacy, the sister 
 of Popery, had made fast her throne and elevated the horns 
 of her miter. These were symptoms of defection which had 
 often made David cry out, " My bowels — my bowels ! I am 
 pained at the very heart \" And he remembered that a 
 godly Bow-head matron had been carried out of the Tolbooth 
 Church in a swoon, beyond the reach of brandy and burnt 
 feathers, merely on hearing these fearful words, ' It is en- 
 acted by the Lords spiritual and temporal," pronounced 
 from a Scottish pulpit, in the proem to the Porteous proc- 
 lamation. These oaths were, therefore, a deep compliance 
 
424 WAVERLKY NOVELS 
 
 and rlire abomination — a sin and a snare, and a danger and 
 a defection. But this shibboleth was not always exacted. 
 Ministers had respect to their own tender consciences and 
 those of their brethren ; and it was not till a later period 
 that the reins of discipline were taken up tight by the General 
 Assemblies and presbyteries. I'he peacemaking particle 
 came again to David's assistance. If an incumbent was not 
 called upon to make such compliances, and ifh.Q got a right 
 entry into the church without intrusion, and by orderly 
 aj)pointment, why, upon the whole, David Deans came to 
 be of opinion that the said incumbent might lawfully enjoy 
 the spirituality and temporality of the cure of souls at 
 Knoektarlitie, with stipend, manse, glebe, and all thereunto 
 appertaining. 
 
 The best and most npright-minded men are so strongly 
 influenced by existing circumstances, that it would be some- 
 what cruel to inquire too nearl}^ what weight joaternal affec- 
 tion gave to these ingenious trains of reasoning. Let David 
 Deans's situation be considered. He w;is just deprived of 
 one daughter, and his eldest, to whom he owed so much, 
 wns cut off, by the sudden resolution of Dnmbiedikes, from 
 the high hope which David had entertained that she might 
 one day be mistress of that fair lordship. Just while this 
 disappointment was bearing heavy on his spirits, Butler 
 comes before his imagination — no longer the half-starved 
 threadbare usher, but fat and sleek and fair, the beneficed 
 minister of Knoektarlitie, beloved by his congregation, ex- 
 emplary in his life, powerful in his doctrine, doing the duty 
 of the kirk as never Highland minister did it before, turn- 
 ing sinners as a collie dog turns sheep, a favorite of the 
 Duke of Argyle, and drawing a stipend of eight hundred 
 punds Scots and four chalders of victual. Here was a match 
 making up, in David's mind, in a tenfold degree, the disap- 
 pointment in the case of Dnmbiedikes, in so far as the good- 
 man of St. Leonard's held a powerful minister in much 
 greater admiration than a mere landed proprietor. It did 
 not occur to him, as an additional reason in favor of the 
 match, that Jeanie might herself have some choice in the 
 matter ; for the idea of consulting her feelings never once 
 entered into the honest man's head, any more than the 
 possibility that her inclination might perhaps differ from 
 his own. 
 
 The result of his meditations was, that he was called upon 
 to take the management of the whole affair into his own 
 hand, and give, if it should be found possible without sinful 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 425 
 
 •iompliance, or backsliding, or defection of any kind, a 
 worthy pastor to the kirk of Knocktarlitie. Accordingly, 
 by the intervention of the honest dealer in buttermilk who 
 dwelt in Libertou, David summoned to his presence Eeuben 
 Butler. Even from this worthy messenger he was unable to 
 conceal certain swelling emotions of dignity, insomuch that, 
 when the carter had communicated his message to the usher, 
 he added, that " Certainly the gudeman of St. Leonard's 
 had some grand news to tell him, for he was as uplifted as 
 ji midden-cock upon pattens.''* 
 
 Butler, it may readily be conceived, immediately obeyed 
 the summons. His was a plain character, in which worth 
 and good sense and simplicity were the principal ingredients ; 
 but love on this occasion, gave him a certain degree of ad- 
 dress. He had received an intimation of the favor designed 
 him by the Duke of Argyle, with what feelings those only 
 can conceive who have experienced a sudden prospect of 
 being raised to independence and respect, from penury and 
 toil. He resolved, however, that the old man should retain 
 all the consequences of being, in his own opinion, the first to 
 communicate the important intelligence. At the same time, 
 he also determined that in the expected conference he would 
 p<irmit David Deans to expatiate at length upon the proposal 
 in all its bearings, without irritating him either by interrup- 
 tion or contradiction. This last plan was the most prudent 
 he could have adopted ; because, although there were many 
 doubts which David Deans could himself clear up to his own 
 satisfaction, yet he might have been by no means disposed to 
 .iccept the solution of any other person ; and to engage him 
 in an argument would have been certain to confirm him at 
 once and forever in the opinion which Butler chanced to 
 impugn. 
 
 He received his friend with an appearance of important 
 gravity, which real misfortune had long compelled him to lay 
 aside, and which belonged to those days of awful authority 
 in which he predominated over Widow Butler, and dictated 
 the mode of cultivating the crofts at Beersheba. He made 
 known to Reuben with great prolixity the prospect of his 
 changing his present residence for the charge of the Duke of 
 A.rgyle's stock farm in Dunbartonshire, and enumerated the 
 various advantages of the situation with obvious self-con- 
 gratulation ; but assured the patient hearer that nothing had 
 so much moved him to acceptance as the sense " That, by 
 his skill in bestial, he could render the most important 
 services t© his Grace the Duke of Argyle, to whom, in the 
 
426 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 late unhappy circumstances (here a tear dimmed the sparkle 
 of pride in the old man's eye), he liad been sae muckle obHged. 
 To put a rude ' Hielandman into sic a charge," he continued, 
 *' what could be expected but that he sulci be sic a chief est 
 herdsman as wicked Doeg the Edomite ; whereas, while this 
 gray head is to the fore, not a clute o' them but sail be as 
 weel cared for if they were the fatted kine of Pharaoh. And 
 now, Eeuben, lad, seeing we maun remove our tent to a 
 strange country, ye'll be casting a dolefu' look after us, 
 and thinking with whom ye are to hold council anent your 
 government in thae slippery and backsliding times ; and nae 
 doubt remembering that the auld man, David Deans, was 
 made the instrument to bring you out of the mire of schism 
 and heresy, wherein your father's house delighted to wallow ; 
 aften also, nae doubt, when ye are pressed wi' ensnaring trials 
 and temptations and heart-plagues, you, that are like a recruit 
 that is marching for the first time to the took of drum, will 
 miss the auld, bauld, and experienced veteran soldier that 
 has felt the brunt of mony a foul day, and heard the bullets 
 whistle as aften as he has hairs left on his auld pow." 
 
 It is very possible that Butler might internally be of opin- 
 ion that the reflection on his ancestor's peculiar tenets might 
 have been spared, or that he might be presumptuous enough 
 even to think that, at his years and witli his own lights, he 
 must be able to hold his course without the pilotage of honest 
 David. But he only replied by expressing his regret that 
 anything should separate him from an ancient, tried, and 
 affectionate friend. 
 
 " But how can it be helped, man ? " said David, twisting 
 his features into a sort of smile — ^^how can we help it ? I 
 trow ye canna tell me that. Ye maun leave that to ither 
 folk — to the Duke of Argyle and me, Eeuben. It's a gude 
 thing to hae friends in thiswarld ; how muckle better to hae 
 an interest beyond it ! " And David, whose piety, though 
 not always quite rational, was as sincere as it was habitual 
 and fervent, looked reverentially upward and paused. 
 
 Mr. Butler intimated the pleasure with which he would 
 receive his friend's advice on a subject so important, and 
 David resumed. 
 
 *' What think ye now, Eeuben, of a kirk — a regular kirk 
 under the present establishment ? Were sic offered to ye, 
 wad ye be free to accept it, and under whilk provisions ? I 
 am speaking but by way of query." 
 
 Butler replied, " That if such a prospect were held out 
 to him, he would probably first consult whether he was 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 427 
 
 likely to be useful to the parish he should be called to ; and 
 if there appeared a fair prospect of his proving so, his friend 
 must be aware that, in every other point of view, it would 
 be highly advantageous for him." 
 
 "Eight, Reuben — very right, lad," answered the moni- 
 tor, "your ain conscience is the first thing to be satisfied ; 
 for how sail he teach others that has himsell sae ill learned 
 the Scriptures as to grip for the lucre of foul earthly prefer- 
 ment, sic as gear and manse, money and victual, that which 
 is not his in a spiritual sense ; or wha makes his kirk a stalk- 
 ing-horse, from behind which he may tak aim at his stipend ? 
 But 1 look for better things of you ; and specially ye maun 
 be minded not to act altogether on your ain judgment, for 
 therethrough comes sair mistakes, backslidings, and defec- 
 tions on the left and on the right. If there were sic a day 
 of trial put to you, Eeuben, you, who are a young lad, al- 
 though it may be ye are gifted wi' the carnal tongues, and 
 those whilk were spoken at Rome, whilk is now the seat of 
 the scarlet abomination, and by the Greeks, to whom the 
 Gospel was as foolishness, yet natheless ye may be entreated 
 by your weel-wisher to take the counsel of those prudent 
 and resolved and weather-withstanding professors wha hae 
 kenn'd what it was to lurk on banks and in mosses, in bogs 
 and in caverns, and to risk the peril of the head rather than 
 renunce the honesty of the heart." 
 
 Butler replied, "That certainly, possessing such a friend 
 as he hoped and trusted he had in the goodman himself, who 
 had seen so many changes in the preceding century, he 
 should be much to blame if he did not avail himself of his 
 experience and friendly counsel." 
 
 "Enough said — enough said, Reuben," said David Deans, 
 with internal exultation ; "and say that ye were in the pre- 
 dicament whereof I hae spoken, of a surety I would deem it 
 my duty to gang to the root o' the matter, and lay bare to 
 you the ulcers and imjiosthumes, and the sores and the lep- 
 rosies, of this our time, crying aloud and sparing not." 
 
 David Deans was now in his element. He commenced his 
 examination of the doctrines and belief of the Christian 
 Church with the very Culdees, from whom he passed to John 
 Knox ; from John Knox to the recusants in James the 
 Sixth's time — Bruce, Black, Blair, Livingstone ; from them 
 to the brief, and at length triumphant, period of the Pres- 
 byterian Church's splendor, until it was overrun by the 
 English Independents. Then followed the dismal times of 
 Prelacy, the indulgences, seven in number, with all their 
 
428 WA VERLET JV O VELS 
 
 shades and bearings, until he arrived at the reign of King 
 James the Second, in which he himself had been, in his own 
 mind, neither an obscure actor nor an obscure sufferer. 
 Then was Butler doomed to hear the most detailed and an- 
 notated edition of what he had so often heard before — 
 David Dean's confinement, namely, in the iron cage in the 
 Canongate tolbooth, and the cause thereof. 
 
 We should be very unjust to our friend David Deans if 
 we should " pretermit," to use his own expression, a narra- 
 tive which he held essential to his fame. A drujiken trooper 
 of the Eoyal Guards, Francis Gordon by name, had chased 
 five or six of the skulking Whigs, among whom was our 
 friend David ; and after he had compelled them to stand, 
 and was in the act of brawling with them, one of their num- 
 ber fired a pocket-pistol and shot him dead. David used 
 to sneer and shake his head when any one asked him whether 
 7ie had been the instrument of removing this wicked per- 
 secutor from the face of the earth. In fact, the merit 
 of the deed lay between him and his friend, Patrick Walker, 
 the pedler, whose works he was so fond of quoting. Neither 
 of them cared directly to claim the merit of silencing Mr. 
 Francis Gordon of the Life Guards, there being some wild 
 cousins of his about Edinburgh, who might have been even 
 yet addicted to revenge, but yet neither of them chose to 
 disovv^n or yield to the other the merit of this active defense 
 of their religious rights. David said, that if he had fired a 
 pistol then, it was what he never did after or before. And as 
 for Mr. Patrick Walker, he has left it upon record that his 
 great surprise was that so small a pistol could kill so big a 
 man. These are the words of that venerable biographer, 
 whose trade had not taught him by experience that an inch 
 was as good as an ell : *' He (Francis Gordon) got a shot in 
 his head out of a pocket-pistol, rather fit for diverting a 
 boy than killing such a furious, mad, brisk man, which not- 
 withstanding killed him dead !"* 
 
 Upon the extensive foundation which the history of the 
 kirk afforded, during its short-lived triumph and long tribu- 
 lation, David, with length of breath and of narrative which 
 would have astounded any one but a lover of his daughter, 
 proceeded to lay down his own rules for guiding the con- 
 science of his friend as an aspirant to serve in the ministry. 
 Upon this subject the good man went through such a variety 
 of nice and casuistical problems, supposed so many extreme 
 
 * See Death of Francis Gordon. Note 35. 
 
THE HE ART OF MIDLOTHIAN 429 
 
 cases, made the distinctions so critical and nice betwixt the 
 right hand and the left hand, betwixt compliance and de- 
 fection, holding back and stepping aside, slipping and stum- 
 bling, snares and errors, that at length, after having limited 
 the path of truth to a mathematical line, he was brought to the 
 broad admission that each man's conscience, after he had 
 gained a certain view of the difficult navigation which he was 
 to encounter, would be the best guide for his pilotage. He 
 stated the examples and arguments for and against the accept- 
 ance of a kirk on the present revolution model with much 
 more impartiality to Butler than he had been able to place 
 them before his own view. And he concluded, that his young 
 friend ought to think upon these things, and be guided by 
 the voice of his own conscience, whether he could take such 
 an awful trust as the charge of souls without doing injury 
 to his own internal conviction of what is right or wrong. 
 
 When David had finished his very long harangue, which 
 was only interrupted by monosyllables, or little more, on 
 the part of Butler, the orator himself was greatly astonished 
 to find that the conclusion at which he very naturally 
 wished to arrive seemed much less decisively attained than 
 when he had argued the case in his own mind. 
 
 In this particular David's current of thinking and speak- 
 ing only illustrated the very important and general propo- 
 sition concerning the excellence of the publicity of debate. 
 For, under the influence of any partial feeling, it is certain 
 that most men can more easily reconcile themselves to any 
 favorite measure when agitating it in their own mind than 
 when obliged to expose its merits to a third party, when 
 the necessity of seeming impartial procures from the op- 
 posite arguments a much more fair statement than that 
 which he affords it in tacit meditation. Having finished 
 what he had to say, David thought himself obliged to be 
 more explicit in point of fact, and to explain that this was 
 no hypothetical case, but one on which, by his own influence 
 and that of the Duke of Argyle, Eeuben Butler would soon 
 be called to decide. 
 
 It was even with something like apprehension that David 
 Deans heard Butler announce, in return to this communi- 
 cation, that he would take that night to consider on what 
 he had said with such kind intentions, and return him an 
 answer the next morning. The feelings of the father 
 mastered David on this occasion. He pressed Butler to 
 spend the evening with him. He produced, most unusual 
 at his meals, one, nay, two bottles of aged strong ale. He 
 
4M WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 gpoke of his daughter — of her merits, her housewifery, her 
 thrift, her affection. He led Butler so decidedly up to a 
 declaration of his feelings towards Jeanie, that, before night- 
 fall, it was distinctly understood she was to be the bride of 
 Reuben Butler ; and if they thought it indelicate to abridge 
 the period of deliberation which Eeuben had stipulated, it 
 seemed to be sufficiently understood betwixt them that 
 there was a strong probability of his becoming minister of 
 Knocktarlitie, providing the congregation were as willing 
 to accept of him as the Duke to grant him the presentation. 
 The matter of the oaths, they agreed, it was time enough 
 to dispute about whenever the shibboleth should be ten- 
 dered. 
 
 Many arrangements were adopted that evening, which 
 were afterwards ripened by correspondence with the Duke 
 of Argyle's man of business, who entrusted Deans and 
 Butler with the benevolent wish of his principal that they 
 should all meet with Jeanie, on her return from England, 
 at the Duke's hunting-lodge in Roseneath. 
 
 This retrospect, so far as the placid loves of Jeanie Deana 
 and Ruben Butler are concerned, forms a full explanation 
 of the preceding narrative up to their meeting on the island 
 as already mentioned. 
 
CHAPTEE XLIV 
 
 " I come," he said, " my love, my life, 
 And — nature's dearest name — my wife. 
 Thy father's house and friends resign, 
 My home, my friends, my sire, are thine." 
 
 Logan. 
 
 The meeting of Jeauie and Butler, under circnmstancea 
 promising to crown an affection so long delayed, was rather 
 affecting from its simple sincerity than from its uncommom 
 vehemence of feeling. David Deans, whose practise was 
 sometimes a little different from his theory, appalled them 
 at first by giving them the opinion of stindry of the suffer* 
 ing preachers and champions of his younger days, that 
 marriage though honorable by the laws of Scripture, was 
 yet a state over-rashly coveted by professors, and specially 
 by young ministers, whose desire, he said, was at whiles too 
 inordinate for kirks, stipends, and wives, which had fre- 
 quently occasioned over-ready compliance with tlie general 
 defections of the times. He endeavored to make them 
 aware also, that hasty wedlock had been the bane of many 
 a savory professor ; that the unbelieving wife had too often 
 reversed the text, and perverted the believing hiisband ; 
 that when the famous Donald Cargill, being then hiding in 
 Lee Wood, in Lanarkshire, it being '^killing time," did, 
 upon importunity, marry Robert Marshal of Starry Shaw, 
 he had thus expressed himself : " What hath induced 
 Robert to marry this woman ? Her ill will overcome his 
 good ; he will not keep the way long : his thriving days are 
 done." To the sad accomplishment of which prophecy 
 David said he was himself a living witness, for Robert 
 Marshal, having fallen into foul compliances with the enemy, 
 went home, and heard the curates, declined into other steps 
 of defection, and became lightly esteemed. Indeed, he 
 observed that the great upholders of the standard, Cargill, 
 Peden. Cameron, and Renwick, had less delight in tying 
 the bonds of matrimony than in any other piece of their 
 ministerial work ; and although they would neither dissuade 
 the parties nor refuse their otiice. they considered the being 
 called to it as an evidence of indifference on the part of 
 
 ^1 
 
4:32 WAVERLEY J^OVELS 
 
 those between whom it was solemnized to the many grievons 
 things of the day. Notwitlistanding, however, that mar- 
 riage was a snare unto many, David was of opinion, as, in- 
 deed, he had showed in his practise, "that it was in itself 
 honorable, especially if times were such that honest men 
 could be secure against being shot, hanged, or banished, 
 and had ane competent livelihood to maintain themselves 
 and those that might come after them. And, therefore,'' 
 as he concluded something abruptly, addressing Jeanie and 
 Butler, who, with faces as high-colored as crimson, had 
 been listening to his lengthened argument for and against 
 the holy state of matrimony, "I will leave ye to your ain 
 cracks.'' 
 
 As their private conversation, however interesting to 
 themselves, might probably be very little so to the reader, 
 so far as it respected their present feelings and future pros- 
 pects, we shall pass it over, and only mention the infor- 
 mation which Jeanie received from Butler concerning her 
 sister's elopement, which contained many particulars that 
 she had been unable to extract from her father. 
 
 Jeanie learned, therefore, that for three days, after her 
 pardon had arrived, Efhe had been the inmate of her father's 
 house at St. Leonard's ; that the interviews betwixt David 
 and his erring child which had taken place before she was 
 liberated from prison had been touching in the extreme ; 
 but Butler could not suppress his opinion that, when he 
 was freed from the apprehension of losing her in a manner 
 so horrible, her father had tightened the bands of disci- 
 pline, so as, in some degree, to gall the feelings and ag- 
 gravate the irritability of a spirit naturally impatient and 
 petulant, and now doubly so from the sense of merited 
 disgrace. 
 
 On the third night, Efhe disappeared from St. Leonard's 
 leaving no information whatever of the route she had taken. 
 Butler, however, set out in pursuit of her, and with much 
 trouble traced her towards a little landing-place, formed 
 by a small brook which enters the sea betwixt Musselburgh 
 and Edinburgh. This place, which has been since made 
 into a small harbor, surrounded by many villas and lodging- 
 houses, is now termed Portobello. At this time it was sur- 
 rounded by a waste common, covered with firs, and unfre- 
 quented, save by fishing boats, and now and then a smuggling 
 lugger. A vessel of this description had been hovering in 
 the firth at the time of Effie's elopement, and, as Butler 
 ascertained, a boat had come ashore in the evening on which 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 433, 
 
 the fugitive had disappeared, and had carried on board a 
 female. As the vessel made sail immediately, and landed 
 no part of their cargo, there seemed little doubt tliat they 
 were accomplices of the notorious Robertson, and that the 
 vessel had only come into tlie Firth to carry off his paramour. 
 This was made clear by a letter which Butler himself soon 
 afterwards received by post, signed "E. D.," but without 
 bearing any date of place or time. It was miserably ill 
 written and spelt ; sea sickness having apparently aided the 
 derangement of Effie's very irregular orthography and mode 
 of expression. In this epistle, however, as in all that that 
 unfortunate girl said or clid, there was something to praise 
 as well as to blame. She said in her letter. " That she 
 could not endure that her father and her sister should go 
 into banishment, or be partakers of her shame ; that if her 
 burden was a heavy one, it was of her own binding, and she 
 had the more right to bear it alone ; that in future they 
 could not be a comfort to her, or she to them, since every 
 look and word of her father put her in mind of her trans« 
 gression, and was like to drive her mad ; that she had nearly 
 lost her judgment during the three days she was at St. 
 Leonard's: her father meant weel by her, and all men, but 
 he did not know the dreadful pain he gave her in casting 
 up her sins. If Jeanie had been at hame, it might hae dune 
 better ; Jeanie was ane, like the angels in heaven, that 
 rather weep for sinners than reckon their transgressions. 
 But she should never see Jeanie ony mair, and that was the 
 thought that gave her the sairest heart of a' that had come 
 and gane yet. On her bended knees would she pray for 
 Jeanie, night and day, baith for what she had done and 
 what she had scorned to do in her behalf ; for what a 
 thought would it have been to her at that moment o' time, 
 if tliat upright creature had made a fault to save her ! She 
 desired her father would give Jeanie a' the gear — her ain 
 (L e. Effie's) mother's and a'. She had made a deed giving 
 •up her right, and it was in Mr. jS'ovit's hand. Warld's gear 
 was henceforward the least of her care, nor was it likely to 
 be muckle her mister." She hoped this would make it easy 
 for her sister to settle ; " and immediately after this expres- 
 sion, she wislied Butler himself all good things, in return for 
 his kindness to her. " For herself." she said," she kenn'd her 
 lot would be a waesome ane, but it was of her own framing, sae 
 ghe desired the less pity. But, for her friends' satisfaction, 
 (slie wished them to know that she was gaun nae ill gate ; 
 that they who had done her maist wrong -were now willing 
 
434 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 to do her what Justice was in their power ; and she would, 
 in some warldly respects, be far better off than she deserved. 
 But she desired her family to remain satisfied with this as- 
 surance, and give themselves no trouble in making further 
 inquiries after her." 
 
 To David Deans and to Butler this letter gave very little 
 comfort ; for what was to be expected from this unfortunate 
 girFs uniting her fate to that of a character so notorious as 
 Eobertson, who they readily guessed was alluded to in the 
 last sentence, excepting that she should become the partner 
 and victim of his future crimes ? Jeanie, who knew George 
 Staunton's character and real rank, saw her sister's situation 
 under a ray of better hope. She augured well of the haste 
 he had shown to reclaim his interest in Effie, and she trusted 
 he had made her his wife. If so, it seemed improbable that, 
 with his expected fortune and high connections, he should 
 again resume the life of criminal adventure which he had 
 led, especially since, as matters stood, his life depended 
 upon his keeping his own secret, which could only be done 
 by an entire change of his habits, and particularly by avoid- 
 ing all those who had known the heir of Willingham under 
 the character of the audacious, criminal, and condemned 
 Eobertson. 
 
 She thought it most likely that the couple would go abroad 
 for a few years, and not return to England until the affair 
 of Porteous was totally forgotten. Jeanie, therefore, saw 
 more hopes for her sister than Butler or her father had been 
 able to perceive ; but she was not at liberty to impart the 
 comfort which she felt in believing that she would be secure 
 from the pressure of poverty, and in little risk of being 
 seduced into the paths of guilt. She could not have ex- 
 plained this without making public what it was essentially 
 necessary for Effie's chance of comfort to conceal, the 
 identity, namely, of George Staunton and George Eobertson. 
 After all, it was dreadful to think that Effie had united 
 herself to a man condemned for felony, and liable to trial 
 for murder, whatever might be his rank in life, and the 
 degree of his repentance. Besides, it was melancholy to 
 reflect that, she herself being in possession of the whole 
 dreadful secret, it was most probable he would, out of regard 
 to his own feelings and fear for his safety, never again permit 
 her to see poor Effie. After perusing and re-perusing her 
 sister's valedictory letter, she gave ease to her feelings in a 
 flood of tears, which Butler in vain endeavored to check by 
 every soothing attention in his power. She was obliged, 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 435 
 
 however, at length to look up and wipe her eyes, for her 
 father, thinking he had allowed the lovers time enough for 
 conference, was now advancing towards them from the 
 Lodge, accompanied by the Captain of Knockdunder, or, as 
 his friends called hiin for brevity's sake, Duncan Knock, a 
 title which some youthful exploits had rendered peculiarly 
 appropriate. 
 
 This Duncan of Knockdunder was a person of first-rate 
 'mportance in tiie island * of Roseneath and the continental 
 parishes of Knocktarlitie, Kilmun, and so forth ; nay, his 
 influence extended as far as Cowall, where, however, it was 
 obscured by that of another factor. The Tower of Knock- 
 dunder still occupies, with its remains, a cliff overhanging 
 the Holy Loch. Duncan swore it had been a royal castle ; 
 if so, it was one of the smallest, tlie space within only form- 
 ing a square of sixteen feet, and bearing therefore a ridi- 
 culous proportion to tlie thickness of the walls, which was 
 ten feet at least. Such as it was, however, it liad long given 
 the title of Captain, equivalent to that of Chatelain, to the 
 ancestors of Duncan, who were retainers of the house of 
 Argyle, and held a hereditary jurisdiction under them, of 
 little extent indeed, but which had great consequence in 
 their own eyes, and was usually administered with a vigoi 
 somewhat beyond the law. 
 
 The present representative of that ancient family Avas a 
 stout short man about fifty, whose pleasure it was to unite 
 in his own person the dress of the Highlands and Low- 
 lands, wearing on his head a black tie-wig, surmounted 
 by a fierce cocked hat, deeply guarded with gold lace, 
 while the rest of his dress consisted of the plaid and phil- 
 abeg. Duncan superintended a district which was partly 
 Highland, partly Lowland, and therefore might be supposed 
 to combine their national habits, in order to show his im- 
 partiality to Trojan or Tyrian. The iucongruity, however, 
 had a wliimsical and ludicrous effect, as it made his head 
 and body look as if belonging to different individuals ; or, 
 as some one said who had seen the executions of the insur- 
 gent prisoners in 1?15, it seemed as if some Jacobite en- 
 chanter, having recalled the sufferers to life, had clapped, 
 in his haste, an Englishman's head on a Highlander's body. 
 To finish the portrait, the bearing of the gracious Duncan 
 was brief, bluff, and consequential, and the upward turn of 
 his short copper-colored nose indicated that he was some- 
 what addicted to wrath and usquebaugh. 
 
 * This is, more correctly speaking, a peninsula (Laing), 
 
ia6 WA VERLE Y NO VELS 
 
 When this dignitary had advanced np to Butler ana to 
 Jeanie, "I take the freedom, Mr. Deans/' he said, in a 
 very consequential manner, " to salute your daughter, whilk 
 I presume this young lass to be. I kiss every pretty girl 
 that comes to Roseneath, in virtue of my office.'" Having 
 made this gallant speech, he took out his quid, saluted 
 Jeanie with a hearty smack, and bade her welcome to 
 Argyle's country. Then addressing Butler, he said, '* Ye 
 maun gang ower and meet the carle ministers yonder the 
 morn, for they will want to do your job ; and synd it down 
 with usquebaugh doubtless : they seldom make dry wark in 
 this kintra." 
 
 "And the Laird " said David Deans, addressing But- 
 ler in further explanation. 
 
 "The Captain, man,'' interrupted Duncan ; " folk winna 
 ken wha ye are speaking aboot, unless ye gie shentlemens 
 their proper title." 
 
 "The Captain, then," said David, ''assures me that the 
 call is unanimous on the part of the parishioners — a real 
 harmonious call, Reuben." 
 
 "I pelieve," said Duncan, "it was as harmonious as 
 could pe expected, when the tae half o' the bodies were 
 clavering Sassenach and the t'other skirling Gaelic, like 
 sea-maws and clack-geese before a storm. Ane wad hae 
 needed the gift of tongues to ken preceesely what they said ; 
 but I pelieve the best end of it was, ' Long live MacCal- 
 lummore and Knockdunder ! ' And as to its being an 
 unanimous call, I wad be glad to ken fat business the 
 carles have to call ony thing or ony body but what the 
 Duke and mysell likes ! " 
 
 " Nevertheless," said Mr. Butler, "if any of the parish- 
 ioners have any scruples, which sometimes happens in the 
 mind of sincere professors, I should be happy of an op- 
 portunity of trying to remove " 
 
 " Never fash your peard about it, man," interrupted Dun- 
 can Knock. " Leave it a' to me. Scruple ! deil ane o' 
 them has been bred up to scruple ony thing that they're 
 bidden to do. And if sic a thing suld happen as ye speak 
 o', ye sail see the sincere professor, as ye ca' him, towed at 
 the stern of my boat for a few furlongs. I'll try if the 
 water of the Haly Loch winna wash olf scruples as weel as 
 fleas. Cot tarn ! " 
 
 The rest of Duncan's threats was lost in a growling 
 gurgling sort of sound which he made in his throat, and 
 which menaced recusants with no gentle means of conver' 
 
TEE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 487 
 
 Bion. David Deans would certainly have given battle in 
 defence of the right of the Christian congregation to be con- 
 sulted in the choice of their own pastor, wliich, in his esti- 
 mation, was one of the choicest and most inalienable of 
 their privileges ; but he had again engaged in close conver- 
 sation with Jeanie, and, with more interest than he was in 
 use to take in affairs foreign alike to his occupation and to 
 his religious tenets, was inquiring into the particulars of her 
 London journey. This was, perhaps, fortunate for the 
 new-formed friendship betwixt him and the Captain of 
 Knockdunder, which rested, in David's estimation, upon 
 the proofs he had given of his skill in managing stock ; but, 
 in reality, upon the special charge transmitted to Duncan 
 from the Duke and his agent to behave with the utmost 
 attention to Deans and his family. 
 
 " And now, sirs," said Duncan, in a commanding tone, 
 *' I am to pray ye a' to come in to your supper, for yonder 
 is Mr. Archibald half famished, and a Saxon woman, that 
 looks as if her een were fleeing out o' her head wi' fear and 
 wonder, as if she had never seen a shentleman in a philabeg 
 pefore." 
 
 " And Reuben Butler," said David, " will doubtless de- 
 sire instantly to retire, that he may prepare his mind for the 
 exercise of to-morrow, that his work may suit the day, and 
 be an offering of a sweet savor in the nostrils of the rev- 
 erend presbytery." 
 
 " Hout tout, man, it's but little ye ken about them," in- 
 terrupted the Captain. " Teil a ane o' them wad gie the 
 s:ivor of the hot venison pasty which I smell (turning his 
 squad nose up in the air) a' the Avay frae the Lodge, for a* 
 that Mr. Putler, or you either, can say to them." 
 
 David groaned ; but judging he had to do with a Gallio, 
 as he said, did not think it worth his while to give battle. 
 They followed the Captain to the house, and arranged them- 
 selves with great ceremony round a well-loaded supper-table. 
 The only other circumstance of the evening worthy to be 
 recorded is, that Butler pronounced the blessing ; that 
 Knockdunder found it too long, and David Deans censured 
 it as too sliort ; from which the charitable reader may con- 
 clude it was exactly the proper length. 
 
CHAPTEE XliV. 
 
 Now turn the Psalms of David owee 
 
 And lilt wi' holy clangor ; 
 Of double verse come gie us four 
 And skirl up the Bangor. 
 
 Burns. 
 
 The next was the importaut day when, according to the 
 forms of ritual of the Scottish Kirk, Reuben Butler was to 
 be ordained minister of Knocktarlitie by the presbytery 
 of . And so eager were the whole party, that all, except- 
 ing Mrs. Dutton, the destined Cowslip of Inverary, were 
 stirring at an early hour. 
 
 Their host, Avhose appetite was as quick and keen as his 
 temper, Avas not long in summoning them to a substantial 
 breakfast, where there were at least a dozen of different 
 preparations of milk, plenty of cold meat, scores boiled and 
 roasted eggs, a huge cag of butter, half a firkin herrings 
 boiled and broiled, fresh and salt, and tea and coffee for 
 them that liked it, which, as their landlord assured them, 
 with a nod and a wink, pointing at the same time to a little 
 cutter which seemed dodging under the lee of the island, 
 cost them little beside the fetching ashore. 
 
 '" Is the contraband trade permitted here so openly ? " 
 said Butler. ''I should think it very unfavorable to the 
 people's morals." 
 
 " The Duke, Mr. Putler, has gieu nae orders concerning 
 the putting of it down," said the magistrate, and seemed to 
 think that he had said all that was necessary to justify his 
 connivance. 
 
 Butler was a man of prudence, and aware that real good 
 can only be obtained by remonstrance when remonstrance is 
 well-timed ; so for the present he said nothing more on the 
 subject. 
 
 When breakfast was half over, in flounced Mrs. Dolly, as 
 fine as a blue sacque and cherry-colored ribbons could make 
 her. 
 
 " Good morrow to you, madam," said the master of cere- 
 monies ; ''I trust your early rising will not scaitli ye." 
 
 The dame apologized to Captain Knockunder, as she waa 
 
 438 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 43% 
 
 pleased to term their entertainer ; " but, as we say in 
 Clieshire," she added, "1 was like the mayor of Altringliani, 
 who lies in bed while his breeches are mending, for the girl 
 did not bring up the right bundle to my room till she had 
 brougiit up all the others by mistake one after t'other. 
 Well, I suppose we are all for church to-day, as I under- 
 stand. Pray may I be so bold as to ask if it Is the fashion 
 for you North-Country gentlemen to go to church in your 
 oetticoats. Captain Knockunder I " 
 
 "Captain of Knockdunder, madam, if you please, for I 
 knock under to no man ; and in respect of my garb, I shall 
 go to church as I am, at your service, madam ; for if I were 
 to lie in bed, like yonr Major What-d'ye-callum, till my 
 breeches were mended, I might be there all my life, see ing 
 I never had a pair of them on my person but twice in my 
 life, which I am pound to remember, it peing when the Duke 
 brought his Duchess here, when her Grace pehoved to be 
 pleasured ; so I e'en porrowed the minister's trews for the 
 twa days his Grace was pleased to stay ; but I will put my- 
 self under sic confinement again for no man on earth, or 
 woman either, but her Grace being always excepted, as in 
 duty pound." 
 
 The mistress of the milking-pail stared, but, making no 
 answer to this round declaration, immediately proceeded to 
 show that the alarm of the preceding evening had in no 
 degree injured her appetite. 
 
 XVhen the meal was finished, the Captain proposed to 
 them to take boat, in order that Mistress Jeanie might see 
 her new place of residence, and that he himself might in- 
 quire whether the necessary preparations had been made 
 there and at the manse for receiving the future inmates 
 of these mansions. 
 
 The morning was deliglitful, and the huge mountain- 
 shadows slept upon the mirrored wave of the firth, almost 
 as little disturbed as if it had been an inland lake. Even 
 Mrs. Dutton's fears no longer annoyed her. She had been 
 informed by Archibald that there was to be some sort of 
 junketting after the sermon, and that was what she loved 
 dearly ; and as for the water, it was so still that it would 
 look quite like a pleasuring on the Thames. 
 
 The whole party being embarked, therefore, in a large 
 boat, which the Captain called his coach and six, and 
 attended by a smaller one termed his gig, the gallant Dun- 
 can steered straight upon the little tower of the old-fashioned 
 church of Knocktarlitie, and the exertions of six stout 
 
440 WAV ERLEY NOVELS 
 
 rowers sped them rapidly on their voyage. As they neared 
 the laud, the hills appeared to recede from them, and a little 
 valley, formed by the descent of a small river from the 
 mountains, evolved itself as it were upon their approach. 
 The style of the country on each side was simply pastoral, 
 and resembled, in appearance and character, the descripticn 
 of a forgotten Scottish poet, which runs nearly thus : — 
 
 The water gently down a level slid, 
 With little din, but couthy what it made ; 
 On ilka side the trees grew thick and lang, 
 And wi' the wild birds' notes were a' in sang ; 
 On either side, a full bow-shot and mair, 
 The green was even, gowany, and fair ; 
 With eas3^ slope on every hand tlie braes 
 To the hills' feet with scattered bushes raise ; 
 With goats and sheep aboon, and kye below, 
 The bonny banks all in a swarm did go. * 
 
 They landed in this Highland Arcadia, at the mouth of 
 the small stream which watered the delightful and peaceable 
 valley. Inhabitants of several descriptions came to pay their 
 respects to the Captain of Knockdunder, a homage which 
 he was very peremptory in exacting, and to see the new set- 
 tlers. Some of these were men after David Deans's own heart, 
 elders of the kirk-session, zealous professors, from the Len- 
 nox, Lanarkshire, and Ayrshire, to whom the preceding 
 Duke of Argyle had given "rooms" in this corner of his 
 estate, because they had suffered for joining his father, the 
 unfortunate Earl, during his ill-fated attempt in 1686. 
 These were cakes of the right leaven for David regaling him- 
 self with ; and, had it not been for this circumstance, he 
 has been heard to say, " that the Captain of Knockdunder 
 would have sworu him out of the country in twenty- four 
 hours, sae awsome it was to ony thinking soul to hear his 
 imprecations, upon the slightest temptation that crossed his 
 humor." 
 
 Besides these, there were a wilder set of parishioners, 
 mountaineers from the upper glen and adjacent hill, who 
 spoke Gaelic, went about armed, and wore the Highland 
 dress. But the strict commands of the Duke had estab- 
 lished such good order in this part of his territories, that 
 the Gael and Saxons lived upon the best possible terms of 
 good neighborhood. 
 
 They first visited the manse, as the parsonage is termed 
 in Scotland. It was old, but in good repair, and stood 
 
 * Ross's Fortunate Shepherdess. Edit. 1778, p. 98. 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 441 
 
 snugly embosomed in a grove of sycamore, with a well- 
 stocked garden in front, bounded by the small river, which 
 was partly visible from the windows, partly concealed by 
 the bushes, trees, and bounding hedge. Within, the house 
 looked less comfortable than it might have been, for it had 
 been neglected by the late incumbent ; but workmen had 
 been laboring under the directions of the Captain of 
 Knockdunder, and at the expense of the Duke of Argyle, 
 to put it into some order. The old " plenishing" liad been 
 removed, and neat but plain household furniture had been 
 sent down by the Duke in a brig of his own, culled the 
 *' Caroline," and was now ready to be placed in order in 
 the apartments. 
 
 Tlie gracious Duncan, finding matters were at a stand 
 among the workmen, summoned before him the delin- 
 quents, and impressed all who heard him v/ith a sense of 
 his authority by the penalties with which he threatened 
 them for their delay. Mulcting them in half their charge, 
 he assured them, would be the least of it; for, if they were 
 to neglect his pleasure and the Duke's, "he would be 
 tamn'd if he paid them the t'other half either, and they 
 miglit seek law for it where they could get it," The work- 
 people humbled themselves before the offended dignitary, 
 jind spake him soft and fair ; and at length, upon Mr. 
 Butler recalling to his mind that it was the ordination-day, 
 and that the workmen were probably thinking of going to 
 church. Knockdunder agreed to forgive them, out of re- 
 spect to their new minister. 
 
 "But an I catch them neglecting my duty again, Mr. 
 Putler, the teil pe in me if the kirk shall be an excuse ; for 
 what has the like o' them rapparees to do at the kirk ony 
 day put Sundays, or then either, if the Duke and I has the 
 necessitous uses for them ? " 
 
 It may be guessed with what feelings of quiet satisfaction 
 and delight Butler looked forward to spending his days, 
 honored and useful as he trusted to be, in this sequestered 
 valley, and how often an intelligent glance was exchanged 
 betwixt him and Jeanie, whose good-humored face looked 
 positively handsome, from the expression of modesty, and 
 at the same time of satisfaction, wliich she wore when visit- 
 ing the apartments of Avhich she was soon to call herself 
 mistress. She was left at liberty to give more o])en indul- 
 gence to her feelings of delight and admiration when, 
 leaving the manse, the company proceeded to examine the 
 destined habitation of David Deans. 
 
442 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 Jeanie found with pleasure that it was not above a 
 mnsket-shot from the manse ; for it had been a bar to her 
 happiness to think she might be obliged to reside at a dis- 
 tance from her father, and she was aware that there were 
 strong objections to his actually living in the same house 
 with Butler. But this brief distance was the very thing 
 which she could have wished. 
 
 The farm-house was on the plan of an improved cottage, 
 and contrived with great regard to convenience ; an excel- 
 lent little garden, an orchard, and a set of offices complete, 
 according to the best ideas of the time, combined to render 
 it a most desirable habitation for the practical farmer, and 
 far superior to the hovel at Woodend and the small house 
 at St Leonard's Crags. The situation was considerably 
 higher than that of the manse, and fronted to the west. 
 The windows commanded an enchanting view of the little 
 vale over which the mansion seemed to jireside, the wind- 
 ings of the stream, and the firth, with its associated lakes 
 and romantic islands. The hills of Dunbartonshire, once 
 possessed by the fierce clan of MacFarlanes, formed a cres- 
 cent behind the valley, and far to the right were seen the 
 dusky and more gigantic mountains of Argyleshire, with 
 a seaward view of the shattered and thunder-splitten peaks 
 of Arran. 
 
 But to Jeanie, Avhose taste for the picturesque, if she had 
 any by nature, had never been awakened or cultivated, the 
 sight of the faithful old May Hettly, as she opened the 
 door to receive them in her clean toy. Sunday's russet-gown, 
 and blue apron, nicely smoothed down before her, was 
 worth the whole varied landscape. The raptures of the 
 faithful old creature at seeing Jeanie were equal to her own, 
 as she hastened to assure her **that baith the gudeman 
 and the beasts had been as weel seen after as she possibly 
 could contrive.'* Separating her from the rest of the com- 
 pany. May then hurried her young mistress to the offices, 
 that she might receive the compliments she expected for 
 her care of the cows. Jeanie rejoiced, in the simplicity of 
 her heart, to see her charge once more ; and the mute fa- 
 vorites of our heroine, Gowans and the others, acknowl- 
 edged her presence by lowing, turning roand their broad 
 and decent brows when they heard her well-known ' Pruh, 
 my leddy — pruh, my woman," and by various indications, 
 known only to those who have studied the habits of the 
 milky mothers showing sensible pleasure as she approached 
 to caress them in their turn. 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 443 
 
 " The very brute beasts are glad to see ye again/' said 
 May; "but nae wonder, Jeanie, for ye were aye kind 
 to beast and body. And I maun learn to ca' ye mistress 
 now, Jeanie, since ye hae been up to Lunnon, and seen the 
 Duke, and the King, and a' the braw folk. But wha kens,"' 
 added the old dame slyly, " what I'll hae to ca' ye forbye 
 mistress, for I am thinking it wunna laiig be Deans." 
 
 " Ca ' me your ain Jeanie, May, and then ye can never 
 gang wrang.'' 
 
 In the cow-house which they examined there was one 
 animal which Jeanie looked at till the tears gushed from her 
 eyes. May, who had watched her with a sympathizing 
 expression, immediately observed, in an undertone, " The 
 gudeman aye sorts that beast himsell, and is kinder to it 
 than ony beast in the byre ; and T noticed he was that way 
 e'en when he was angriest, and had maist cause to be angry. 
 Eh, sirs ! a parent's heart's a queer thing ! Mony a warsle 
 he has had for that puir lassie. I am thinking he petitions 
 mair for her than for yoursell, hinny ; for what can he plead 
 for you but just to wish you the blessing ye deserve ? And 
 when I sleepit ayont the hallan, when we came first here, he 
 was often earnest a' night, and I could hear him come ower 
 and ower again wi', ' Effie — puir blinded misguided thing ! ' it 
 was aye ' Effie ! Effie ! ' If that puir wandering lamb comena 
 into the sheepfauld in the Shepherd's ain time, it will be an 
 unco wonder, for I wot she has been a child of prayers. 0, 
 if the puir prodigal wad return, sae blithely as the goodman 
 wad kill the fatted calf ! — though Brockie's calf will no be 
 fit for killing this three weeks yet." 
 
 And then, with the discursive talent of persons of her de- 
 scription, she got once more alloat in her account of domestic 
 affairs, and left this delicate and affecting topic. 
 
 Having looked at everything in the offices and the dairy, 
 and expressed her satisfaction with the manner in which 
 matters had been managed in her absence, Jeanie rejoined 
 the rest of the party, who were surveying the interior of the 
 house, all excepting David Deans and Butler, who had gone 
 down to the church to meet the kirk-session and the clergy- 
 men of the presbytery, and arrange matters for the duty of 
 the day. 
 
 In the interior of the cottage all was clean, neat, and 
 suitable to the exterior. It had been originally built and 
 furnished by the Duke as a retreat for a favorite domestic of 
 the higher class, who did not long enjoy it, and had been 
 dead only a few months, so that everything was in excellent 
 
444 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 taste and good order. But in Jeanie's bedroom was a neat 
 trunk, which had greatly excited Mrs. Button's curiosity, 
 for she was sure that the direction, ''For Mrs. Jean Deans, 
 at Auchingower, parish of Knocktarlitie," was the writing 
 of Mrs. Semple, the Duchess's own woman. May Hettly 
 produced the key in a sealed parcel, which bore the same 
 address, and attached to the key was a label, intimating that 
 the trunk and its contents were " a token of remembrance 
 to Jeanie Deans from her friends the Duchess of Argyle and 
 the young ladies." The trunk, hastily opened, as the reader 
 will not doubt, was found to be full of wearing apparel of 
 the best quality, suited to Jeanie's rank in life ; and to most 
 of the articles the names of the particular donors were at- 
 tached, as if to make Jeanie sensible not only of the general 
 but of the individual interest she had excited in the noble 
 family. To name the various articles by their appropriate 
 names would be to attempt things unattempted yet in prose 
 or rhyme ; besides, that the old-fashioned terms of manteaus, 
 sacques, kissing-strings, and so forth would convey but little 
 information even to the milliners of the j)i'esent day. (I 
 shall deposit, however, an accurate inventory of the contents 
 of the trunk with my kind friend. Miss Martha Buskbody, 
 who has promised, should the public curiosity seem interested 
 in the subject, to supply me with a professional glossary and 
 commentary.) Suffice it to say, that the gift was such as 
 became the donors, and was suited to the situation of the 
 receiver ; that everything was handsome and appropriate, 
 and nothing forgotten which belonged to the wardrobe of a 
 young person in Jeanie's situation in life, the destined bride 
 of a respectable clergyman. 
 
 Article after article was displayed, commented upon, and 
 admired, to the wonder of May, who declared, "she didna 
 think the Queen had mair or better claise," and somewhat to 
 the envy of the northern Cowslip. This unamiable, but not 
 very unnatural, disposition of mind broke forth in sundry 
 unfounded criticisms to the disparagement of the articles, as 
 they were severally exhibited. But it assumed a more 
 direct character when, at the bottom of all, was found a 
 dress of white silk, very plainly made, but still of white silk, 
 and French silk to boot, with a paper pinned to it, bearing, 
 that it was a present from the Duke of Argyle to his travel- 
 ing companion, to be worn on the day when she should 
 change her name. 
 
 Mrs. Dutton could forbear no longer, but whispered into 
 Mr. Archibald's ear, that it was a clever thing to be a Scotch- 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 446 
 
 woman : " She supposed all her sisters, and she had half a 
 dozen, might have been hanged, without any one sending 
 her a present of a pocket handkerchief." 
 
 " Or without your making any exertion to save them, Mrs. 
 Dolly/' answered Archibald, drily. " But I am surprised 
 we do not hear the bell yet," said he, looking at his watch. 
 
 *' Fat ta deil, Mr. Archibald," answered the Captain of 
 Knockduuder, "wad ye hae them ring the bell before I am 
 ready to gang to kirk ? I wad gar the bedral eat the bell- 
 rope if he took ony sic freedom. But if ye want to hear the 
 bell, I will just show mysell on the knowe-head, and it will 
 begin jowing forthwith." 
 
 Accordingly, so soon as they sallied oat, and the gold- 
 laced hat of the Captain was seen rising like Hesper above 
 the dewy verge of the rising ground, the clash — for it was 
 rather a clash than a clang — of the bell was heard from the 
 old moss-grown tower, and the clapper continued to thump 
 its cracked sides all the while they advanced towards the 
 kirk, Duncan exhorting them to take their own time, "for 
 teil ony sport wad be till he came." * 
 
 Accordingly, the bell only changed to the final and impa- 
 tient chime when they crossed the stile; and "rang in," 
 that is, concluded its mistuned summons, when they had 
 entered the Duke's seat in the little kirk, where the whole 
 party arranged themselves, with Duncan at their head, ex- 
 cepting David Deans, who already occupied a seat among 
 the elders. 
 
 The business of the day, with a particular detail of which 
 it is unnecessary to trouble the reader, was gone through 
 according to the established form, and the sermon pronounced 
 upon the occasion had the good fortune to please even the 
 critical David Deans, though it was only an hour and a 
 quarter long, which David termed a short allowance of 
 spiritual provender. 
 
 The preacher, who was a divine that held many of David's 
 opinions, privately apologized for his brevity by saying, 
 " That he observed the Captain was gaunting grievously, 
 and that if he had detained him longer, there was no know- 
 ing how long he might be in paying the next term's victual 
 stipend." 
 
 David groaned to find that such carnal motives could have 
 influence upon the mind of a powerful preacher. He had, 
 indeed, been scandalized by another circumstance during the 
 service. 
 
 * See Tolling to Service in Scotland. Note 36. 
 
446 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 So soon as the congregation were seated after prayers, and 
 the clergyman had read his text, the gracions Duncan, after 
 rummaging the leathern purse which hung in front of his 
 petticoat, produced a short tobacco-pipe made of iron, and 
 observed, almost aloud, " 1 hae forgotten my spleuchan. 
 Lachlan, gang down to the clachan and bring me up a penny- 
 worth of twist." Six arms, the nearest within reach, pre- 
 sented, with an obedient start, as many tobacco-pouches to 
 the man of office. He made choice of one with a nod of 
 acknowledgment, filled his pipe, lighted it with the assist- 
 ance of his pistol-flint, and smoked with infinite composure 
 during the whole time of the sermon. When the discourse 
 was finished, he knocked the ashes out of his pipe, replaced 
 it in its sporran, returned the tobacco pouch or spleuchan to 
 its owner, and joined in the prayer with decency and atten- 
 tion. 
 
 At the end of the service, when Butler had been admitted 
 minister of the kirk of Knocktarlitie, with all its spiritual 
 immunities and privileges, David, who had frowned, groaned, 
 and murmured at Knockdunder's irreverent demeanor, com- 
 municated his plain thoughts of the matter to Isaac Meikle- 
 hose, one of the elders, with whom a reverential aspect and 
 huge grizzle wig had especially disposed him to seek frater- 
 nization. '' It didna become a wild Indian," David said, 
 "much less a Christian and a gentleman, to sit in the kirk 
 puffing tobacco-reek, as if he were in a change-house." 
 
 Meiklehose shook his head, and allowed it was "far frae 
 beseeming. But what will ye say ? The Captain^s a queer 
 hand, and to speak to him about that or ony thing else that 
 crosses the maggot, wad be to set the kiln a-low. He keeps 
 a high hand ower the country, and we couldna deal wi' the 
 Hielandmen without his protection, sin' a' the keys o' the 
 kintray hings at his belt ; and he's no an ill body in the 
 main, and maistry, ye ken, maws the meadows doun." 
 
 " That may be very true, neighbor," said David ; " but 
 Reuben Butler isna the man I take him to be if he disna 
 learn the Captain to fuff his pipe some other gate than in 
 God's house or t]^e quarter be ower." 
 
 "Fair and softly gangs far," said Meiklehose ; "and if a 
 fule may gie a wise man a counsel, I wad hae him think 
 twice or he mells wi' Knockdunder. He suld hae a lang- 
 shankit spune that wad sup kail wi' the deil. But they are 
 a' away to their dinner to the change-house, and if we dinna 
 mend our pace, we'll come short at meal-time." 
 
 David accompanied his friend without answer ; but began 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 447 
 
 to feel from experience that the glen of Knocktarlitie, like 
 the rest of the world, was haunted by its own special sub- 
 jects of regret and discontent. His miud was so much oc- 
 cupied by considering tlie best means of converting Duncan 
 of Knock to a sense of reverent decency during public 
 worship, that he altogether forgot to inquire whether 
 Butler was called upon to subscribe the oaths to govern- 
 ment. 
 
 Some have insinuated that his neglect on this head was, 
 in some degree, intentional ; but I think this explanation 
 inconsistent with the simplicity of my friend David's char- 
 acter. Neither have I ever been able, by the most minute 
 inquiries, to know whether the formula at which he so much 
 scrupled had been exacted from Butler, aye or no. The 
 books of the kirk-session might have thrown some light on 
 this matter ; but unfortunately they were destroyed in the 
 year 1746, by one Donacha Dhu na Dunaigh, at the instance, 
 it was said, or at least by the connivance, of the gracious 
 Duncan of Knock, who had a desire to obliterate the re- 
 corded foibles of a certain Kate Finlayson. 
 
CHAPTER XLVI 
 
 Now butt and ben the cliange-house fills 
 Wr yill-caup commentators : 
 Here's crying out for bakes and gills, 
 And there the pint-stoup clatters. 
 While thick and thrang, and loud and lang, 
 Wi' logic and wi' .Scripture, 
 They raise a din that in the end 
 Is like to breed a rupture 
 
 O' wrath that day. 
 
 Burks. 
 
 A PLEXTIFUL entertainment, at the Duke of Argyle's cost, 
 regaled tlie reverend gentlemen who had assisted at the 
 ordination of Reuben Butler, and almost all the respectable 
 part of the parish. The feast was, indeed, such as the 
 country itself furnished ; for plenty of all the requisites for 
 " a rough and round " dinner were always at Duncan of 
 Knock's command. There was the beef and mutton on the 
 braes, the fresh and saltwater fish in the lochs, the brooks, 
 and firth ; game of every kind, from the deer to the leveret, 
 were to be had for the killing in the Duke's forests, moors, 
 heaths, and mosses ; and for liquor, home-brewed ale flowed 
 as freely as water ; brandy and usquebaugh both were had 
 in those happy times without duty ; even white wine and 
 claret were got for nothing, since the Duke's extensive 
 rights of admiralty gave him a title to all the wine in cask 
 which is drifted ashore on the western coast and isles of 
 Scotland, when shipping have suffered by severe weather. 
 In short, as Duncan boasted, the entertainment did not cost 
 MacCallummore a plack out of his sporran, and was never- 
 theless not only liberal, but overflowing. 
 
 The Duke's health was solemnized in a bona fide bumper, 
 and David Deans himself added perhaps the first huzza that 
 his lungs had ever uttered to swell the shout with which the 
 pledge was received. Nay, so exalted in heart was he upon 
 this memorable occasion, and so much disposed to be indul- 
 gent, that he expressed no dissatisfaction when three bag- 
 pipers struck up, " The Campbells are coming." The health 
 of the reverend minister of Knocktarlitie was received with 
 similar honors ; and there was a roar of laughter when one 
 
 448 
 
THE HEART OF MIDL O THIA N 449 
 
 of his brethren slyly subjoined the addition of, "A goodw;fe 
 to our brother to keep the manse in order." On this occa- 
 sion David Deans was delivered of his first-born joke ; and 
 apparently the parturition was accompanied with many 
 tiiroes, for sorely did he twist about liis physiognomy., and 
 much did he stumble in his speech, before he could express 
 liis idea, " That the lad being now wedded to his spiritual 
 bride, it was hard to threaten him with a temporal spouse 
 in the same day/' He then laughed a hoarse and brief 
 laugh, and was suddenly grave and silent, as if abashed at 
 his own vivacious effort. 
 
 After another toast or two, Jeanie, Mrs. Dolly, and such of 
 the female natives as had honored the feast with their pres- 
 ence, retired to David's new dwelling at Auchingowcr, and 
 left the gentlemen to their potations. 
 
 The feast proceeded witli great glee. The conversation, 
 where Duncan had it under his direction, was not indeed 
 always strictly canonical, but David Deans escaped any risk 
 of being scandalized by engaging with one of his neig"hbors 
 in a racapitulation of the sufferings of Ayrshire and Lanark- 
 shire, during what was called the invasion of the Highland 
 Host ; the prudent Mr. Meiklehose cautioning them from 
 time to time to lower their voices, for " that Duncan Knock's 
 father had been at that onslaught, and brought back muckle 
 gude plenishing, and that Duncan was no unlikely to hae 
 been there himself, for what he kenn'd." 
 
 Meanwhile, as the mirth grew fast and furious, the graver 
 members of the party began to escape as well as they could. 
 David Deans accomplished his retreat, and Butler anxiously 
 watched an opportunity to follow him. Knockdunder, how- 
 ever, desirous, he said, of knowing what stuff was in the new 
 minister, had no intention to part with him so easily, but 
 kept him pinned to his side, watching him sedulously, and 
 with obliging violence filling his glass to the brim as often 
 as he could seize an opportunity of doing so. At length, as 
 the evening was wearing late, a venerable brother chanced 
 to ask Mr. Archibald when they might hope to see the Duke, 
 tam carum caput, as he would venture to term him, at the 
 Lodge of Roseneath. Duncan of Knock, whose ideas were 
 somewhat conglomerated, and who, it may be believed, was 
 no great scholar, catching up some imperfect sound of the 
 words, conceived the speaker was drawing a parallel between 
 the Duke and Sir Donald Gorme of Sleat ; and being of 
 opinion that such com})arison was odious, snorted thrice, and 
 prepared himself to be in a passion. 
 29 
 
450 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 To the explanation of the venerable divine the Captain 
 answered, " I heard the word " Gorme "myself, sir, with my 
 ain ears. D'ye think I do not know Gaelic from Latin ? " 
 
 " Apparently not, sir," so the clergyman, offended in his 
 turn, and taking a pinch of snuff, answered with great cool- 
 ness. 
 
 The copper nose of the gracious Duncan now became 
 heated like the bull of Phalaris, and while Mr. Archibald 
 mediated betwixt the offended parties, and the aitention 
 of the company was engaged by their dispute, Butler took 
 an opportunity to effect his retreat. 
 
 He found the females at Auchingower very anxious for the 
 breaking up of the convivial party ; for it was a part of the 
 arrangement that, although David Deans was to remain at 
 Auchingower, and Butler was that night to take possession 
 of the manse, yet Jeanie, for whom complete accommoda- 
 tions were not yet provided in her father's house, was to re- 
 turn for a day or two to the Lodge at Roseneath, and the 
 boats had been held in readiness accordingly. They waited, 
 therefore, for Knockdunder's return, but twilight came and 
 they still waited in vain. At length Mr, Archibald, who, as a 
 man of decorum, had taken care not to exceed in his con- 
 viviality, made his appearance, and advised the females 
 strongly to return to the island under his escort ; observing 
 that, from the humor in which he had left the Captain, it 
 was a great chance whether he budged out of the public-house 
 that night, and it was absolutely certain that he would 
 not be very fit company for ladies. The gig was at their 
 disposal, he said, and there was still pleasant twilight for a 
 party on the Avater. 
 
 Jeanie, who had considerable confidence in Archibald's 
 prudence, immediately acquiesced in this proposal ; but Mrs. 
 Dolly positively objected to the small boat. If the big boat 
 could be gotten, she agreed to set out, otherwise she would 
 sleep on the floor, rather than stir a step. Eeasoning with 
 Dolly was out of the question, and Archibald did not think 
 the difficulty so pressing as to require compulsion. He ob- 
 served, '' It was not using the Captain very politely to de- 
 prive him of his coach and six ; but as it was in the ladies' 
 service," he gallantly said, " he would use so much freedom ; 
 besides, the gig would serve the Captain's purpose better, as 
 it could come off at any hour of the tide ; the large boat 
 should, therefore, be at Mrs. Dolly's service.'' 
 
 They walked to the beach accordingly, accompanied by 
 Butler. It was some time before the boatmen could be 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 451 
 
 assembled, and ere they were well embarked, and ready to 
 depart, the pale moon was come over the hill, and flinging 
 a trembling reflection on the broad and glittering waves. 
 But so soft and pleasant was the night, that Butler, in bid- 
 ding farewell to Jeanie, had no apprehension for her safety ; 
 and, what is yet more extraordinary, Mrs. Dolly felt no 
 alarm for her own. The air was soft, and came over the 
 cooling wave with something of summer fragrance. The 
 beautiful scene of headlands, and capes, and bays around 
 them, with the broad blue chain of mountains, was dimly 
 visible in tlie moonlight ; while every dash of the oars made 
 the waters glance and sparkle with the brilliant phenomenon 
 called the sea fire. 
 
 This last circumstance filled Jeanie with wonder, and 
 served to amuse the mind of her companion, until they ap- 
 proached the little bay, which seemed to stretch its dark 
 and wooded arms into the sea as if to welcome them. 
 
 The usual landing-place was at a quarter of a mile's dis- 
 tance from the Lodge, and although the tide did not admit 
 of the large boat coming quite close to the jetty of loose 
 stones which served as a pier, Jeanie, who was "both bold 
 and active, easily sprung ashore ; but Mrs. Dolly positively 
 refusing to commit herself to the same risk, the complaisant 
 Mr. Archibald ordered the boat round to a more regular 
 landing-place, at a considerable distance along the shore. 
 He then prepared to land himself, that he might, in the 
 meanwhile, accompany Jeanie to the Lodge. But as there 
 was no mistaking the woodland lane which led from thence 
 to the shore, and as the moonlight showed her one of the 
 white chimneys rising out of the wood which embosomed 
 the building, Jeanie declined this favor with thanks, and 
 requested him to proceed with Mrs. Dolly, who, being "in 
 a country where the ways were strange to her, had mair 
 need of countenance." 
 
 This, indeed, was a fortunate circumstance, and might 
 even be said to save poor Cowslip's life, if it was true, as 
 she herself used solemnly to aver, that she must positively 
 have expired for fear if she had been left alone in the boat 
 with six wild Highlanders in kilts. 
 
 The night Avas so exquisitely beautiful that Jeanie, instead 
 of immediately directing her course towards the Lodge, 
 stood looking after the boat as it again put off from the side, 
 and rowed out into the little bay, the dark figures of hei 
 companions growing less and less distinct as they diminished 
 in the distance, and the. jorram, or melancholy boat-song. 
 
452 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 of the rowers coming on the ear with softened and sweetei 
 sound, until the boat rounded the headland and was lost to 
 her observation. 
 
 Still Jeanie remained in the same posture, looking our 
 upon the sea. It would, she was aware, be some time ere 
 her companions could reach the Lodge, as the distance by 
 the more convenient landing-place was considerably greater 
 than from the point where she stood, and she was not sorry 
 to have an opportunity to spend the interval by herself. 
 
 The wonderful change which a few weeks had wrought 
 in her situation, from shame and grief, and almost despair, 
 to honor, Joy, and a fair prospect of future happiness, passed 
 before her eyes with a sensation which brought the tears 
 into them. Yet they flowed at the same time from another 
 source. As human happiness is never perfect, and as well- 
 constructed minds are never more sensible of the distresses 
 of those whom they love than when their own situation 
 forms a contrast with them, Jeanie's affectionate regrets 
 turned to the fate of the poor sister — the child of so many 
 hopes, the fondled nursling of so many years — now an exile, 
 and, what was worse, dependent on the will of a man of 
 whose habits she had every reason to entertain the worst 
 opinion, and who, even in his strongest paroxysms of remorse, 
 had appeared too much a stranger to the feelings of real 
 penitence. 
 
 While her thoughts were occupied with these melancholy 
 reflections, a shadowy figure seemed to detach itself from the 
 copsewood on her rig^ht hand. Jeanie started, and the 
 stories of apparitions and wraiths, seen by solitary travelers 
 in wild situations, as such times and in such an hour, sud- 
 denly came full upon her imagination. The figure glided 
 on, and as it came betwixt her and the moon, she was aware 
 that it had the appearance of a woman. A soft voice twice 
 repeated, "Jeanie — Jeanie!" Was it indeed — could it be 
 the voice of her sister ? Was she still among the living, or 
 had the grave given up its tenant ? Ere she could state 
 these questions to her own mind, Effie, alive and in the 
 body, had clasped her in her arms, and was straining her 
 to her bosom and devouring her with kisses. " I have wan- 
 dered here," she said, " like a ghaist, to see you, and nae 
 wonder you take me for ane. I thought but to see you 
 gang by, or to hear the sound of your voice ; but to speak 
 to yoursell again, Jeanie, was mair than I deserved, and 
 mair than I durst pray for." 
 
 " O, Effie ! how came ye here alone, and at this hour, and 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 453 
 
 on the wild sea-beach ? Are you sure it's your aiu living 
 sell ? " 
 
 There was something of Eflfie's former humor in her prac- 
 tically answering the question by a gentle pinch, more be- 
 seeming the fingers of a fairy than of a ghost. 
 
 And again the sisters embraced, and laughed, and wept 
 by turns. 
 
 "But ye maun gang up wi' me to the Lodge, Effie,*' said 
 Jeanie, " and tell me a' your story. I hae gude folk there 
 that will make ye welcome for my sake.'' 
 
 "Na, na, Jeanie," replied her sister, sorrowfully: '^ye 
 hae forgotten what I am — a banished outlawed creature, 
 scarce escaped the gallows by your being the bauldest and 
 the best sister that ever lived, I'll gae near nane o' your 
 grand friends, if ever there was nae danger to me." 
 
 " There is nae danger — there shall be nae danger," said 
 Jeanie, eagerly. " 0, Effie, dinna be wilfu' : be guided for 
 ahes ; we will be sae happy a' thegither ! " 
 
 " I have a' the happiness I deserve on this side of the grave, 
 now that I hae seen you," answered Effie ; " and whether 
 there were danger to mysell or no, naebody should ever say 
 that I come with my cheat-the-gallows face to shame my 
 sisters amang her grand friends." 
 
 " I hae nae grand friends," said Jeanie ; " nae friends but 
 what are friends of yours — Reuben Butler and my father. 
 0, unliappy lassie, dinna be dour, and turn your back on 
 your happiness again ! We wunnasee another acquaintance. 
 Come hame to us, your ain dearest friends; "it's better 
 sheltering under an auld hedge than under a new-planted 
 wood." 
 
 "It's in vain speaking, Jeanie: I maun drink as I hae 
 brewed. I am married, and I maun follow my husband for 
 better for worse." 
 
 " Married, Effie ! " exclaimed Jeanie. " Misfortunate 
 creature ! and to that awfu' " 
 
 " Hush, hush ! " said Effie, clapping one hand on her 
 mouth, and pointing to the thicket with the other ; "he is 
 yonder." She said this in a tone which showed that her 
 husband had found means to inspire her with awe as well as 
 affection. 
 
 At this moment a man issued from the wood. It was 
 young Staunton. Even by the imperfect light of the moon, 
 Jeanie could observe that he was handsomely dressed, and 
 liad the air of a person of rank. 
 
 ** Effie," he said, " our time is well-nigh spent ; the skiflP 
 
»54 WA VFRLEY NO VELS 
 
 will be aground in the creek, and I dare not stay longer. I 
 hope your sister will allow me to salute her ? " But Jeanie 
 shrunk back from him with a feeling of internal abhorrence. 
 " Well/' he said, " it does not much signify ; if you keep up 
 the feeling of ill-will, at least you do not act upon it, and I 
 thank you for your respect to my secret, when a word — 
 which in your place I would have spoken at once — would 
 have cost me my life. People say you should keep from the 
 wife of your bosom the secret that concerns your neck : my 
 wife and her sister both know mine, and I shall not sleep a 
 wink the less sound." 
 
 "But are you really married to my sister, sir?" asked 
 Jeanie, in great doubt and anxiety ; for the haughty, care- 
 less tone in which he spoke seemed to justify her worst 
 apprehensions. 
 
 " I really am legally married, and by own name," replied 
 Staunton, more gravely. 
 
 " And your father — and your friends ? " 
 
 '^ And my father and my friends must just reconcile them- 
 selves to that which is done and cannot be undone," replied 
 Staunton. "However, it is my intention, in order to break 
 off dangerous connections, and to let my friends come to 
 their temper, to conceal my marriage for the present, and 
 stay abroad for some years. So you will not hear of us for 
 some time, if ever you hear of us again at all. It would be 
 dangerous, you must be aware, to keep up the correspon- 
 dence ; for all would guess that the husband of Effie was the 
 — what shall I call myself ? — the slayer of Porteous." 
 
 " Hard-hearted, light man ! " thought Jeanie ; "to what 
 a character she has entrusted her happiness ! She has sown 
 the wind, and maun reap the whirlwind." 
 
 " Dinna think ill o' him," said Effie, breaking away from 
 her husband, and leading Jeanie a step or two out of hearing 
 — dinna think very ill o' him ; he's gude to me, Jeanie — as 
 gude as I deserve. And he is determined to gie up his bad 
 courses. Sae, after a', dinna greet for Effie ; she is better 
 off than she has wrought for. But you — you ! — how can 
 you be happy enough ! Never till ye get to Heaven, where 
 a'body is as gude as yoursell. Jeanie, if I live and thrive ye 
 shall hear of me ; if not, just forget that sic a creature ever 
 lived to vex ye. Fare ye weel — fare — fare ye weel ! " 
 
 " She tore herself from her sister's arms ; rejoined her 
 husband ; they plunged into the copsewood, and she saw 
 them no more. 
 
 The whole scene had the effect of a vision, and she could 
 
THE HE A RT OF MIDL THIAN 455 
 
 almost have believed it sucii, but that vor}^ soon after they 
 quitted her she heard the sounds of oars, and a skiff was 
 seen on the firth, pulling swiftly towards the small smuggling 
 sloop which lay in the offing. It was on board of such a 
 vessel that Effie had embarked at Portobello,and Jeanie had 
 no doubt that the same conveyance was destined, as Staun- 
 ton had hinted, to transport them to a foreign country. 
 
 Although it was impossible to determine whether this in- 
 terview, while it was passing, gave more pain or pleasure to 
 Jeanie Deans, yet the ultimate impression which remained 
 on her mind was decidedly favorable. Effie was married — 
 made, according to the common phrase, an honest woman ; 
 that was one main point. It seemed also as if her husband 
 were about to abandon the path of gross vice, in which he 
 had run so long and so desperately ; that was another ; for 
 his final and effectual conversion, he did not want under- 
 standing, and God knew His own hour. 
 
 Such were the thoughts with which Jeanie endeavored 
 to console her anxiety respcting her sister's future fortune. 
 On her arrival at the lodge, she found Archibald in some 
 anxiety at her stay, and about to walk out in quest of her. 
 A headache served as an a apology for retiring to rest, in 
 order to conceal her visible agitation of mind from her com- 
 panions. 
 
 By this secession also, she escaped another scene of a dif- 
 ferent sort. For, as if there were danger in all gigs, whether 
 by sea or land, that of Knockdunder had been run down by 
 another boat, an accident owing chiefly to the drunkenness 
 of the Captain, his crew, and passengers. Knockdunder, 
 and two or three guests whom he was bringing along with 
 him to finish the conviviality of the evening at the Lodge, 
 got a sound ducking ; but, being rescued by the crew of the 
 boat which endangered them, there was no ultimate loss, 
 excepting that of the Captain's laced hat, which, greatly to 
 the satisfaction of the Highland part of the district, as well 
 as to the improvement of the conformity of his own personal 
 appearance, he replaced by a smart Highland bonnet next 
 day. Many were the vehement threats of vengeance which, 
 on the succeeding morning, the gracious Duncan threw out 
 against the boat which had upset him ; but as neither she 
 nor the small smuggling vessel to which she belonged was 
 any longer to be seen in the firth, he was. compelled to sit 
 down with the affront. This was the more hard, ho said, as 
 he was assured the mischief was done on purpose, these 
 scoundrels having lurked about after they had landed every 
 
456 WAVER LEY NOVELS 
 
 droji of brandy and every b;ig of tea they had on board ; and 
 he understood the coxswain had been on shore making par- 
 ticular inquiries concerning the time when his boat was to 
 cross over, and to return, and so forth. 
 
 ** Put the neist time they meet me on the firth/' said 
 Duncan, with great majesty, " I will teach the moonlight 
 rapscallions and vagabonds to keep their ainside of the road^^ 
 and be tamn'd to them I '* 
 
CHAPTEE XLVII 
 
 Lord ! who would live turmoiled in a court, 
 And may enjoy such quiet walks as these ? 
 
 Shakspear* 
 
 Within a reasonable time after Butler was safely and 
 comfortably settled in his living, and Jeanie had taken up 
 her abode at Auchingower with her father — the precise ex- 
 tent of which interval we request each reader to settle accord- 
 ing to his own sense of what is decent and proper upon the 
 occasion — and after due proclamation of banns and all other 
 formalities, the long wooing of this worthy pair was ended 
 by their union in the holy bands of matrimony. On this oc- 
 casion, David Deans stoutly withstood the iniquities of pipes, 
 fiddles, and promiscuous dancing, to the great wrath of the 
 Captain of Knockdunder, who said, if he "had guessed it 
 was to be sic a tamn'd Quakers' meeting, he wad hae seen 
 them peyont the cairn before he wad hae darkened their 
 doors." 
 
 And so much rancor remained on the spirits of the gracious 
 Duncan upon this occasion, that various " picqueerings/' 
 as David called them, took place upon the same and similar 
 topics ; and it was only in consequence of an accidental visit 
 of the Duke to his Lodge at Eoseneath that they wei'e put a 
 stop to. But upon that occasion his Grace showed such 
 particular respect to Mr. and Mrs. Butler, and such favor 
 even to aid David, that Knockdunder held it prudent to 
 change his course towards the latter. He in future used to 
 express himself among friends concerning the minister and 
 his wife, as " very worthy decent folk, just a little over strict 
 in their notions ; put it was pest for thae plack cattle to err 
 on the safe side." And respecting David, he allowed that 
 " he was an excellent judge of nowte and sheep, and a sen- 
 sible eneugh carle, an it werena for his tamn'd Cameronian 
 nonsense, whilk it is not worth while of a shentleman to 
 knock out of an auld silly head, either by force of reason or 
 otherwise." So that, by avoiding topics of dispute, the per- 
 sonages of our tale lived in great good habits with the gra- 
 cious Duncan, only that he still grieved David's soul, and set 
 
458 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 a perilous example to the congregation, by sometimes bring- 
 ing his pipe to the churcli during a cold winter day, and al- 
 most always sleeping during sermon in the summer-time. 
 
 Mrs. Butler, whom we must no longer, if we can help it, 
 term by the familiar nameof Jeanie, brought into the married 
 state the same firm mind and affectionate disposition, the 
 same natural and homely good sense, and spirit of useful ex- 
 ertion — in a word, all the domestic good qualities of which 
 she had given proof during her maiden life. She did not 
 indeed rival Butler in learning ; but then no woman more 
 devoutly venerated the extent of her husband's erudition. 
 She did not pretend to understand his expositions of divinity; 
 but no minister of the presbytery had his humble dinner so 
 well arranged, his clothes and linen in equal good order, his 
 fireside so neatly swept, his parlor so clean, and his books so 
 well dusted. 
 
 If he talked to Jeanie of what she did not understand — and 
 (for the man was mortal, and had been a schoolmaster) he 
 sometimes did harangue more scholarly and wisely than was 
 necessary — she listened in placid silence ; and whenever the 
 point referred to common life, and was such as came under 
 the grasp of a strong natural understanding, her views were 
 more forcible, and her observations more acute, than his 
 own. In acquired politeness of manners, when it happened 
 that she mingled a little in society, Mrs. Butler was, of course, 
 judged deficient. But then she had that obvious wish to 
 oblige, and that real and natural good-breeding depending 
 on good sense and good-humor, which, joined to a consider- 
 able degree of archness and liveliness of manner, rendered 
 her behavior acceptable to ail with whom she was called upon 
 to associate. Notwithstanding her strict attention to all 
 domestic affairs, she always appeared the clean well-dressed 
 , mistress of the house, never the sordid household drudge. 
 When complimented on this occasion by Duncan Knock, 
 who swore, '' that he thought the fairies must help her, since 
 her house was always clean, and nobody ever saw anybody 
 sweeping it," she modestly replied, ''That much might be 
 dune by timing ane's turns." 
 
 Duncan replied, " He heartily wished she could teach that 
 art to the huzzies at the Lodge, for he could never discover 
 that the house was Avashed at a', except now and then by 
 breaking his shins over the pail. Cot tamn the jauds \" 
 
 Of lesser matters there is no occasion to sjDcak much. It 
 may easily be believed that the Duke's cheese was carefully 
 made, and so graciously accepted that the offering became 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 459 
 
 annual. Remembrances and acknowledgments of past 
 favors were sent to Mrs. Bickerton and Mrs. Glass, and an 
 amicable intercourse maintained from time to time with 
 these two respectable and benevolent persons. 
 
 It is especially necessary to mention tluit,, in the course of 
 five years, Mrs. Butler, had three children, two boys and a 
 girl, all stout healthy babes of grace, fair-haired, bhie-eyed, 
 and strong-limbed. The boys were named David and Reu- 
 ben, an order of nomenclature which was much to the 
 satisfaction of the old hero of the Covenant, and the girl, by 
 her mother's special desire, was christened Enphemia, rather 
 contrary to the wish of both her father and husband, who 
 nevertheless loved Mrs. Butler coo well, and were too much 
 indebted to her for their hours of happiness, to withstand 
 any request which she made with earnestness, and as a 
 gratification to herself. But from some feeling, I know not 
 of what kind, the child was never distinguished by the 
 name of Effie, but by the abbreviation of Femie, Avhich in 
 Scotland is equally commonly applied to persons called 
 Euphemia. 
 
 In this state of quiet and unostentatious enjoyment there 
 were, besides the ordinary rubs and ruffles which disturbed 
 even the most uniform life, two things which particularly 
 chequered Mrs. Butler's happiness. "Without these," she 
 said to our informer, ''her life would have been but too 
 happy ; and perhaps," she added, '* she had need of some 
 crosses in this world to remind her that there was a better 
 to come behind it." 
 
 The first of these related to certain polemical skirmishes 
 betwixt her father and her husband, which notwithstanding 
 the mutual respect and affection they entertained for each 
 other, and their great love for her ; notwithstanding also 
 their general agreement in strictness, and even severity, of 
 Presbyterian principle, often threatened unpleasant weather 
 between them. David Deans, as our readers must be aware, 
 was sufficiently opinionative and intractable, and having 
 prevailed on himself to become a member of a kirk-session 
 under the established church, he felt doubly obliged to 
 evince that, in so doing, he had not compromised any whit 
 of his former professions, either in practise or principle. 
 Now Mr. Butler, doing all credit to his father-in-law's 
 motives, was frequently of opinion that it was better to 
 drop out of memory points of division and separation, and 
 to act in the manner most likely to attract and unite all 
 parties who were serious in religion. Moreover, he was not 
 
460 WAV ERLEY NOVELS 
 
 pleased, as a man and a scholar, to be always dictated to by 
 his unlettered father-in-law ; and as a clergyman he did not 
 think it fit to seem forever under the thumb of an elder of 
 his own kirk-session. A proud but honest thought carried 
 his opposition now and then a little farther than it would 
 otherwise have gone. "My brethren/' he said, "will sup- 
 pose I am flattering and conciliating the old man for the 
 sake of his succession, if I defer and give way to him on 
 every occasion ; and, besides, there are many on which I 
 neither can nor will conscientiously yield to his notions. 1 
 cannot be persecuting old women for witches, or ferreting 
 out matter of scandal among the young ones, w^hich might 
 otherwise remained concealed." 
 
 From this difference of opinion it happened that, in many 
 cases of nicety, such as in owning certain defections, and 
 failing to testify against certain backslidings of the time ; 
 in not always severely tracing forth little matters of scandal 
 and fajna clamosa, which David called a loosening of the reins 
 of discipline ; and in failing to demand clear testimonies in 
 other points of controversy which had, as it were, drifted to 
 leeward with the change of times, Butler incurred the cen- 
 sure of his father-in-law ; and sometimes the disputes be- 
 twixt them became eager and almost unfriendly. In all 
 such cases Mrs. Butler was a mediating spirit, who en- 
 deavored, by the alkaline smoothness of her own dis- 
 position, to neutralize the acidity of theological contro- 
 versy. To the complaints of both she lent an unpre- 
 judiced and attentive ear, and sought always rather to excuse 
 than absolutely to defend the other party. 
 
 She reminded her father that Butler had not " his ex- 
 perience of the auld and wrastling times, when folk were 
 gifted wi' a far look into eternity, to make up for the op- 
 pressions whilk they suffered here below in time. She 
 freely allowed that many devout ministers and professors in 
 times past had enjoyed downright revelation, like the 
 blessed Peden, and Lundie, and Cameron, and Renwick, 
 and John Caird the tinkler, wha entered into the secrets ; 
 and Elizabeth Melvil, Lady Culross who prayed in her bed, 
 surrounded by a great many Christians in a large room, in 
 whilk it was placed on purpose, and that for three hours' 
 time, with wonderful assistance ; and Lady Robertland, 
 whilk got six sure outgates of grace ; and mony other 
 in times past ; and of a specialty, Mr. John Scrimgeour, 
 minister of Kinghorn, who, having a beloved child sick to 
 death of the crewels, was free to expostulate with his Maker 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 481 
 
 with snch impatience of displeasure, and complaining so 
 bitterly, that at length it was said unto liim tliat he was 
 heard for this time, but that he was requested to use no 
 such boldness in time coming ; so that, when he returned, 
 he found the child sitting up in the bed hale and fair, with 
 all its wounds closed, and supping its parritch, whilk babe 
 he had left at the time of death. But tliougli these things 
 might be true in these needful times, she contended that 
 those ministers who had not seen such vouchsafed and es- 
 pecial mercies were to seek their rule in the record of 
 ancient times ; and therefore Reuben was carefu' both to 
 search the Scriptures and the books written by wise and good 
 men of old ; and sometimes in this way it wad hapj^en that 
 twa precious saints might pu' sundry wise, like twa cows 
 riving at the same hay-band." 
 
 To this David used to reply, with a sigh, " Ah, hinny, 
 thou kenu'st little o't ; but that same John Scrimgeour, 
 that blew open the gates of Heaven as an it had been wi' a 
 sax-pund cannon-ball, used devoutly to wish that most part 
 of books were burned, except the Bible. Reuben's a gude 
 lad and a kind — I have aye allowed that ; but as to his not 
 allowing inquiry anent the scandal of Margery Kittlesides 
 and Rory MacRand, under pretense that they have south- 
 ered sin wi' marriage, it's clear agane the Christian discipline 
 o' the kirk. And then there's AiHe MacClure of Deep- 
 heugh, that practises her abominations, spacing folks for- 
 tunes wi' egg-shells, and mutton-banes, and dreams and 
 divinations, whilk is a scandal to ony Christian land to 
 suffer sic a wretch to live ; and I'll uphaud that in a' judi- 
 catures, civil or ecclesiastical.'^ 
 
 " I daresay ye are very right, father," was the general 
 style of Jeanie's answer ; "but ye maun come down to the 
 manse to your dinner the day. The bits o' bairns, puir 
 things, are wearying to see their luckie-dad ; and Reuben 
 never sleeps weel, nor I neither, when you and he hae had 
 ony bit outcast." 
 
 " Nae outcast, Jeanie ; God forbid I suld cast out wi' 
 thee, or aught that is dear to thee !" And he put on his 
 Sunday's coat and came to the manse accordingly. 
 
 With her husband, Mrs. Butler had a more direct con- 
 ciliatory process. Reuben had the utmost respect for the 
 old man's motives, and affection for his person, as well as 
 gratitude for his early friendship ; so that, upon any such 
 occasion of accidental irritation, it was only necessary to 
 remind him with delicacy of his father-in-law's age, of his 
 
462 WA VERLEY NO VELS 
 
 scanty education, strong prejudices, and family distresses. 
 The least of these considerations always inclined Butler to 
 measures of conciliation, in so far as he could accede to 
 them without compromising principle ; and thus our simple 
 and unpretending heroine had the merit of those peace- 
 makers to whom it is pronounced as a benediction that they 
 shall inherit the earth. 
 
 The second crook in Mrs. Butler's lot, to use the language 
 of her father, was the distressing circumstance that she had 
 never heard of her sister's safety, or of the circumstances 
 in which she found herself, though betwixt four and five 
 years had elapsed since they had parted on the beach of the 
 island of Roseneath. Frequent intercourse was not to be 
 expected — not to be desired, perhaps, in their relative situa- 
 tions ; but Effie had promised that, if she lived and pros- 
 pered, her sister should hear from her. She must then be 
 no more, or sunk into some abyss of misery, since she had 
 never redeemed her pledge. Her silence seemed strange and 
 portentous, and wrung from Jeanie, who could never forget 
 the early years of their intimacy, the most painful anticipa- 
 tion concerning her fate. At length, however, the veil was 
 drawn aside. 
 
 One day, as the Captain of Knockdunder had called in at 
 tlie manse, on his return from some business in the High- 
 land part of the parish, and had been accommodated, accord- 
 ing to his special request, with a mixture of milk, brandy, 
 honey, and water, which he said Mrs. Butler compounded 
 ''petter than ever a woman in Scotland" — for in all inno- 
 cent matters she studied the taste of every one around her — 
 he said to Butler, " Py the py, minister, I have a letter here 
 either for your canny pody of a wife or you, which I got 
 when I was last at Glasco ; the postage comes to fourpence, 
 which you may either pay me forthwith, or give me tooble 
 or quits in a hit at packcammon.*' 
 
 The playing at backgammon and draughts had been a 
 frequent amusement of Mr. Whackbairn, Butler's principal, 
 when at Liberton school. The minister, therefore, still 
 piqued himself on his skill at both games, and occasionally 
 practised them, as strictly canonical, although David Deans, 
 whose notions of every kind were more rigorous, used to 
 shake his head and groan grievously when he espied the 
 tables lying in the parlor, or the children playing with the 
 dice-boxes or backgammon men. Indeed, Mrs. Butler was 
 sometimes chidden for removing these implements of pas- 
 time into some closet or corner out of sight. *' Let them 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 463 
 
 be where they are, Jeanie," would Butler say upon such 
 occasions ; •' I am not conscious of following this or any 
 other trifling relaxation to the interruption of my more 
 serious studies and still more serious duties. I will not, 
 therefore, have it supposed that I am indulging by stealth, 
 and against my conscience, in an amusement which, using 
 it so little as I do, I may well practise openly, and without 
 any check of mind. Nil conscire sihi, Jeanie, that is my 
 motto ; which signifies, my love, the honest and open con- 
 fidence which a man ought to entertain when he is acting 
 openly, and without any sense of doing wrong." 
 
 Such being Butler's humor, he accepted the Captain's de- 
 fiance to a twopenny hit at backgammon, and handed the 
 letter to his wife, observing, "the post-mark was York, but 
 if it came from her friend Mrs. Bickerton, she had consid- 
 erably improved her handwriting, which was uncommon 
 at her years." 
 
 Leaving the gentlemen to their game, Mrs. Butler went 
 to order something for supper, for Captain Duncan had pro- 
 posed kindly to stay the night with them, and then care- 
 lessly broke open her letter. It was not from Mrs. Bicker- 
 ton, and, after glancing over the first few lines, she soon 
 found it necessary to retire into her own bedroom, to read 
 the document at leisure. 
 
CHAPTEE XLVIII. 
 
 Happy thou art ! then happy be, 
 
 Noi' envy me my lot ; 
 Thy happy state I envj- thee, 
 
 And peaceful cot. 
 
 Lady Charlotte Campbell. 
 
 The letter, wliicli Mrs. Butler, when retired into her own 
 apartment, perused with anxious wonder, was certainly 
 from Effie, although it had no other signature than the 
 letter E. ; and although the orthography, style, and pen- 
 manship were very far superior not only to anything which 
 Effie could produce, who, though a lively girl, had been a 
 remarkably careless scholar, but even to her more consider- 
 ate sister's own powers of composition and expression. 
 The manuscript was a fair Italian hand, though something 
 stiff and constrained ; the spelling and the diction that of a 
 person who had been accustomed to read good composition, 
 and mix in good society. 
 
 The tenor of the letter was as follows : — 
 
 ^' My dearest Sister, 
 
 " At many risks I venture to write to you, to inform 
 you that I am still alive, and, as to worldly situation, that I 
 rank higher than I could expect or merit. If wealth and 
 distinction, and an honorable rank could make a woman 
 happy, I have them all ; but you, Jeanie, whom the world 
 might think placed far beneath me in all these respects, 
 are far happier than I am. I have had means of hearing of 
 your welfare, my dearest Jeanie, from time to time; I think 
 I should have broken my heart otherwise. I have learned 
 with great pleasure of your increasing family. We have 
 not been worthy of such a blessing ; two infants have been 
 successively removed, and we are now childless — God's will 
 be done ! But if we had a child it would perhaps divert 
 him from the gloomy thoughts which make him terrible to 
 himself and others. Yet do not let me frighten you, Jeanie, 
 he continues to be kind, and I am far better off than I de- 
 serve. You will wonder at my better scholarship ; but 
 when I was abroad I had the best teachers, and I worked 
 hard because my progress pleased him. He is kind, Jeanie, 
 
 464 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 46& 
 
 only he has much to distress him, especially when he looks 
 backward. When I look backward myself I have always a 
 ray of comfort ; it is in the generous conduct of a sister who 
 forsook me not when I was forsaken by every one. You 
 have had your reward. You live happy in the esteem and 
 love of all who know you, and I drag on the life of a miser- 
 able impostor, indebted for the marks of regard T receive to 
 a tissue of deceit and lies, which the slightest accident may 
 unravel. He has produced me to his friends, since the 
 estate opened to him, as the daughter of a Scotchman of 
 rank, banished on account of the Viscount of Dundee's wars 
 — that is our Fr's old friend Clavers, you know — and he 
 says I was educated in a Scotch convent ; indeed, I lived in 
 such a place long enough to enable me to support the char- 
 acter. But when a countryman approaches me, and begins 
 to talk, as they all do, of the various families engaged in 
 Dundee's affair, and to make inquiries into my connections, 
 and when I see his eye bent on mine with such an expres- 
 sion of agony, my terror brings me to the very risk of de- 
 tection. Good-nature and politeness have hitherto saved 
 me, as they prevented people from pressing ou me witli dis- 
 tressing questions. But how long — how long will this be 
 the case ! And if I bring this disgrace on him, he will hate 
 me ; he will kill me, for as much as he loves me ; he is as 
 jealous of his family honor now as ever he was careless 
 about it. 1 have been in England four months, and have 
 often thought of writing to you ; and yet such are the dan- 
 gers that might arise from an intercepted letter that I have 
 hitherto forborne. But now I am obliged to run the risk. 
 Last week I saw your great friend, the D. of A. He came 
 to my box, and sate by me ; and something in the jolay put 
 him in mind of you. Gracious Heaven ! he told over your 
 whole London journey to all who were in the box, but par- 
 ticularly to the wretched creature who was the occasion of 
 it all. If he had known — if he could have conceived, be- 
 side whom he was sitting, and to whom the story was told ! 
 I suffered with courage, like an Indian at the stake, while 
 they are rending his fibers and boring his eyes, and while he 
 smiles applause at each well-imagined contrivance of his 
 torturers. It was too much for me at last, Jeanie : I 
 fainted ; and my agony was imputed partly to the heat of 
 the place, and partly to my extreme sensibility ; and, hypo- 
 crite all over, I encouraged both opinions — anything but 
 discovery ! Luckily he was not there. But the incident 
 has led to more alarms. I am obliged to meet your great 
 
 -HO 
 
486 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 man often ; and lie seldom sees me without talking of E. D. 
 and J. D., and R. B. and D. D., as persons in whom my 
 amiable sensibility is interested. My amiable sensibility ! ! ! 
 And then the cruel tone of light indifference with which 
 persons in the fashionable world speak together on the 
 most affecting subjects ! To hear my guilt, my folly, my 
 agony, the foibles and weaknesses of my friends, even your 
 heroic exertions, Jeanie, spoken of in the drolling style 
 which is the present tone in fashionable life ! Scarce all 
 that I formerly endured is equal to this state of irritation : 
 then it was blows and stabs ; now it is pricking to death 
 with needles and pins. He — I mean the D. — goes down 
 next month to spend the shooting-season in Scotland. He 
 says he makes a point of always dining one day at the 
 manse ; be on your guard, and do not betray yourself, should 
 he mention me. Yourself — alas ! yo7C have nothing to be- 
 tray — nothing to fear ; you, the pure, the virtuous, the 
 heroine of unstained faith, unblemished purity, what can 
 you have to fear from the world or its proudest minions ? 
 It is E. whose life is once more in your hands ; it is E. 
 whom you are to save from being plucked of her borrowed 
 plumes, discovered, branded, and trodden down — first by 
 him, perhaps, who has raised her to this dizzy pinnacle. 
 The inclosure will reach you twice a-year. Do not refuse 
 it ; it is out of my own allowance, and may be twice as 
 much when you want it. With you it may do good ; with 
 me it never can. 
 
 " Write to me soon, Jeanie, or I shall remain in the 
 agonizing apprehension that this has fallen into wrong hands. 
 Address simply to " L. S.," under cover to the Eeverend 
 George Whiterose, in the Minster Close, York. He thinks 
 I correspond with some of my noble Jacobite relations who 
 are in Scotland. How High Church and Jacobitical zeal 
 would burn in his cheeks if he knew he was the agent, not 
 of Euphemia Setoun, of the honorable house of Winton, 
 but of E. D., daughter of a Cameronian cow-feeder I 
 Jeanie, I can laugh yet sometimes — but God protect you 
 from such mirth. My father — I mean your father — 
 would say it was like the idle crackling of thorns ; but 
 the thorns keep their poignancy, they remain unconsumed. 
 Farewell, my dearest Jeanie. Do not show this even to 
 Mr. Butler, much less to any one else. I have every re- 
 spect for him ; but his principles are over strict, and my 
 case will not endure severe handling. — I rest your affection* 
 ate sister, E." 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 4fi\ 
 
 In this long letter there was much to surprise as well as 
 distress Mrs. Butler. That Effie — her sister Effie should be 
 mingling freely in society, and apparently on not unequal 
 terms with the Duke of Argyle, sounded like something so 
 extraordinary that she even doubted if she read truly. 
 Nor was it less marvelous that, in the space of four years, 
 her education should have made such progress. Jeanie's 
 humility readily allowed that Effie had always, when she 
 chose it, been smarter at her book than she herself was , 
 but then she was very idle, and, upon the whole, had made 
 much less proficiency. Love, or fear, or necessity, how- 
 ever, had proved an able schoolmistress, and completely 
 supplied all her deficiencies. 
 
 What Jeanie least liked in the tone of the letter was a 
 smothered degree of egotism. " We should have heard 
 little about her/' said Jeanie to herself, " but that she was 
 feared the Duke might come to learn wha she was, and a* 
 about her puir friends here ; but Effe, puir thing, aye looks 
 her ain way, and folk that do that think mair o' them- 
 selves than of their neighbors. I am no clear about keep- 
 ing her siller/' she added, taking up a £50 note which had 
 fallen out of the paper to tlie floor. " We hae eneugh, and 
 it looks unco like theft-boot, or hush-money, as they ca* 
 it : she might hae bee7i sure that I wad say naething wad 
 harm her, for a' the gowd in Lunnon. And I maun tell the 
 minister about it. 1 diuna see that she suld be sae feared 
 for her ain bonny bargain o' a gudeman, and that I shouldna 
 reverence Mr. Butler just as much ; and sae I'll e'en tell 
 him when that tippling body, the Captain, has ta'en boat 
 in the morning. But I wonder at my ain state of mind,'* 
 she added, turning back, after she had made a step or two 
 to the door to join the gentlemen ; " surely I am no sic a 
 f ule as to be angry that Effie's a braw lady, while I am only 
 a minister^'s wife ? and yet I am as petted as a bairn, when 
 I should bless God, that has redeemed her from shame, and 
 poverty, and guilt, as ower likely she might hae been 
 plunged into." 
 
 Sitting down upon a stool at the foot of the bed, she 
 folded her arras upon her bosom, saying within herself, 
 ** From this place will I not rise till I am in a better frame 
 of mind ; " and so placed, by dint of tearing the veil from 
 the motives of her little temporary spleen against her sister, 
 she compelled herself to be ashamed of them, and to view 
 as blessings the advantages of her sister's lot, while its em- 
 barrassments were the necessary consequences of errors long 
 
i68 WAVERLEV NOVELS 
 
 since committed. And thus she fairly vanquished the feel- 
 ing of pique which she naturally enough entertained at see- 
 ing Effie, so long the object of her care and her pity, soar 
 suddenly so high above her in life as to reckon amongst the 
 chief objects of her apprehension the risk of their relation- 
 ship being discovered. 
 
 When this unwonted burst of amour propre was thor- 
 oughly subdued, she walked down to the little parlor where 
 the gentlemen were finishing their game, and heard from 
 the Captain a confirmation of the news intimated in her 
 letter, that the Duke of Argyle was shortly expected at 
 Eoseneath. 
 
 *' He'll find plenty of moor-fowls and plack-cock on the 
 moors of Auchingower, and he^ll pe nae doubt for taking 
 a late dinner and a ped at the manse, as he has done pefore 
 now.^' 
 
 "' He has a gude right. Captain." said Jeanie. 
 
 " Teil ane petter to ony ped in the kintra/' answered tht 
 Captain. '' And ye had petter tell your father, puir body, 
 to get his beasts a' in order, and put his tamn^d Camer- 
 onian nonsense out o' his head for twa or three days, if he 
 can pe so opliging ; for fan I speak to him apout prute 
 pestial, he answers me out o' the Pible, whilk is not using 
 a shentleman weel, unless it be a person of your cloth, Mr. 
 Putler." 
 
 No one understood better than Jeanie the merit of the 
 soft answer which turneth away wrath;. and she only 
 smiled, and hoped that his Grace would find everything that 
 was under her father's care to his entire satisfaction. 
 
 But the Captain, who had lost the whole postage of the 
 letter at backgammon, was in the pouting mood not un- 
 usual to losers, and whicli, says the proverb, must be 
 allowed to them. 
 
 " And, Master Putler, though you know T never meddle 
 with the things of your kirk-sessions, yet I must be allowed 
 to say that I will not pe pleased to allow Ailie MacClure of 
 Deepheugh to be poonished as a witch, in respect she only 
 spaes fortunes, and does not lame, or plind, orpedevil any 
 persons, or coup cadgers' carts, or ony sort of mischief ; put 
 only tells people good fortunes, as anent our poats killing 
 so many seals and doug-fishes. whilk is very pleasant to hear." 
 
 " The woman." said Butler, '* is, I believe, no witch, 
 but a cheat ; and it is only on that head that she is sum- 
 moned to the kirk-session, to cause her to desist in future 
 from practising her impostures upon ignorant persons." 
 
THE HE ART OF MIDLOTHIAN 469 
 
 ** I do not know/' replied the gracious Duncan, ** what 
 her practices or her postures are, but I pelieve that if the 
 poys take hould on her to duck lier in the clachan purn, 
 it will be a very sorry practise ; and I pelieve, moreover, 
 that if I come in thirdsman among you at the kirk-sessions, 
 you will be all in a tamn'd pad posture indeed." 
 
 Without noticing this threat, Mr. Butler replied, " That 
 he had not attended to the risk of ill-usage which the poor 
 woman might undergo at the hands of the rabble, and that 
 he would give her the necessary admonition in private, in- 
 stead of bringing her before the assembled session." 
 
 ^' This," Duncan said, "was speaking like a reasonable 
 shentleman ;" and so the evening passed peaceably oif. 
 
 Next morning, after the Captain had swallowed his morn- 
 ing draught of Athole bros?, and departed in his coach and 
 six, Mrs. Butler anew deliberated upon communicating to 
 her husband her sister's letter. But she was deterred by the 
 recollection that, in doing so, she Avould unveil to him the 
 whole of a dreadful secret, of which, perhaps, his public 
 character might render him an unfit depository. Butler 
 already had reason to believe that Effie liad eloped with 
 that same Eobertson who had been a leader in the Porteous 
 mob, and who lay under sentence of death for the robbery 
 at Kirkcaldy. But he did not know his identity with 
 George Staunton, a man of birth and fortune, who had now 
 apparently reassumed his natural rank in society. Jeanie had 
 respected Staiin ton's own confession as sacred, and upon 
 reflection she considered the letter of her sister as equally 
 so, and resolved to mention the contents to no one. 
 
 On reperusing the letter, she could not help observing the 
 staggering and unsatisfactory condition of those who have 
 risen to distinction by undue jjaths, and the outworks and 
 bulwarks of fiction and falsehood by which they are under 
 the necessity of surrounding and defending their precarious 
 advantages. But she was not called upon, she thought to 
 unveil her sister's original history : it would restore no right 
 to any one, for she was usurping none ; it would only de- 
 stroy her happiness, and degrade her in the public estimation. 
 Had she been wise, Jeanie thought she would have chosen 
 seclusion and privacy, in place of public life and gaiety ; 
 but the power of choice might not be hers. The money, 
 she thought, could not be returned without her seeming 
 haughty and unkind. She resolved, therefore, upon recon- 
 sidering this point, to employ it as occasion should serve, 
 either in educating her children better than her own means 
 
470 WA VERLET NOVELS 
 
 coiild compass, or for their future portion. Her sister had 
 enough, was strongly bound to assist Jeanie by any means 
 in her power, and the arrangement was so natural and proper, 
 that it ought not to be declined out of fastidious or romantic 
 delicacy. Jeanie accordingly wrote to her sister, acknowledg- 
 ing her letter, and requesting to hear from her as often 
 as she could. In entering into her own little details of news, 
 chiefly respecting domestic affairs, she experienced a sin- 
 gular vacillation of ideas ; for sometimes she apologized for 
 mentioning things unworthy the notice of a lady of rank, 
 and then recollected that everything which concerned her 
 should be interesting to Effie. Her letter, under the cover 
 of Mr. Whiterose, she committed to the post-office at Glas- 
 gow, by the intervention of a parishioner who had business 
 at that city. 
 
 The next week brought the Duke to Roseneath, and 
 shortly afterwards he intimated his intention of sporting in 
 their neighborhood, and taking his bed at the manse ; an 
 honor which he had once or twice done to its inmates on 
 former occasions. 
 
 Effie proved to be perfectly right in her anticipations. 
 The Duke had hardly set himself down at Mrs. Butler's 
 right hand, and taken upon himself the task of carving the 
 excellent '' barndoor chucky," which had been selected as 
 the high dish upon this honorable occasion, before he 
 began to speak of Lady Staunton of Willingham, in Lincoln- 
 shire, and the great noise which her wit and beauty made 
 in London. For much of this Jeanie was, in some measure, 
 prepared ; but Effie's wit ! that- would never have entered 
 into her imagination, being ignorant how exactly raillery in 
 the higher rank resembles flippancy among their inferiors. 
 
 " She has been the ruling belle — the blazing star — the 
 universal toast of the winter," said the Duke ; " and is 
 really the most beautiful creature that was seen at court 
 upon the birthday.'* 
 
 The birthday ! and at court ! Jeanie was annihilated, 
 remembering well her own presentation, all its extraordinary 
 circumstances, and particularly the cause of it. 
 
 "I mention this lady particularly to you, Mrs. Butler,'* 
 said the Duke, " because she has something in the sound of 
 her voice and cast of her countenance that reminded me of 
 you : not when you look so pale though ; you have over- 
 fatigued yourself ; you must pledge me in a glass of 
 wine." 
 
 She did so, and Butler observed, ** It was dangerous flat- 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 471 
 
 fcery in his Grace to tell a poor minister's wife that she was 
 like a court-beauty." 
 
 "Oiio! Mr. Butler/' said the Duke, "I find you are 
 growing jealous ; but it's rather too late iu the day, for you 
 know how long 1 have admired your wife. But seriously, 
 there is betwixt them one of those inexplicable likenesses 
 which we see in countenances that do not otherwise resemble 
 each other." 
 
 '* The perilous part of the compliment has flown off," 
 thought Mr. Butler. 
 
 His wife, feeling the awkwardness of silence, forced her- 
 self to say, "That perhaps the lady might be her country- 
 woman, and the language might make some resemblance." 
 
 "You are quite right," replied the Duke. " Slie is a 
 Scotchwoman, and speaks with a Scotch accent, and now 
 and then a provincial word drops out so prettily that it is 
 quite Doric, Mr. Butler." 
 
 " I should have thought," said the clergyman, *' that 
 would have sounded vulgar in the great city." 
 
 "' Not at all," replied the Duke ; " you must suppose it is 
 not the broad coarse Scotch that is spoken in the Oowgate 
 of Edinburgh, or in the Gorbals. This lady has been very 
 little in Scotland, in fact. She was educated in a convent 
 abroad, and speaks that pure court-Scotch which was common 
 in my younger days ; but it is so generally disused now, that 
 it sounds like a different dialect, entirely distinct from our 
 modern patois." 
 
 Notwithstanding her anxieties, Jeanie could not help admir- 
 ing within herself, how the most correct judges of life and 
 manners can be imposed on by their own preconceptions, 
 while the Duke proceeded thus : " She is of the unfortunate 
 house of Winton, I believe ; but, being bred abroad, she had 
 missed the opportunity of learning her own pedigree, and 
 was obliged to me for informing her that she must certainly 
 come of the Setouns of Windygoul. I wish you could have 
 seen how prettily she blushed at her own ignorance. Amidst 
 her noble and elegant manners, there is now and then a little 
 touch of bashfulness and conventual rusticity, if I may call 
 it so, that makes her quite enchanting. You see at once the 
 rose that had bloomed untouched amid the chaste precincts 
 of the cloister, Mr. Butler." 
 
 True to the hint, Mr. Butler failed not to start with his 
 
 " Ut flos in septis secretvis nascitur hortis," etc. ; 
 while his wife could hardly persuade herself that all this was 
 
472 WAVE RLE Y NOVELS 
 
 Bpoken of Efifie Deans, and by so competent a judge as the 
 Duke of Argjle ; and had she been acquainted with Catullus, 
 would have thought the fortunes of her sister had reversed 
 the whole passage. 
 
 She was, however, determined to obtain some indemnifi- 
 cation for the anxious feelings of the moment, by gaining all 
 the intelligence she could ; and therefore ventured to make 
 some inquiry about the husband of the lady his Grace ad- 
 mired so much. 
 
 " He is very rich," replied the Duke ; "of an ancient 
 family, and has good manners ; but he is far from being such 
 a general favorite as his wife. Some people say he can be very 
 pleasant. I never saw him so ; but should rather judge him 
 reserved, and gloomy, and capricious. He was very wild in 
 his youth, they say, and has bad health ; yet he is a good- 
 looking man enough— a great friend of your Lord High 
 Commissioner of the Kirk, Mr. Butler.'* 
 
 " Then he is the friend of a very worthy and honorable 
 nobleman,*' said Butler, 
 
 *' Does he admire his lady as much as other people do ? " 
 said Jeanie, in a low voice. 
 
 " Who — Sir George ? They say he is very fond of her,'* 
 said the Duke ; '^ but I observe she trembles a little when he 
 fixes his eye on her, and that is no good sign. But it is 
 strange how I am haunted by this resemblance of yours to 
 Lady Staunton, in look and tone of voice. One would almost 
 swear you were sisters." 
 
 Jeanie's distress became uncontrollable, and beyond con- 
 cealment. The Duke of Argyle was much disturbed, good- 
 naturedly ascribing it to his having unwittingly recalled to 
 her reTuembrance her family misfortunes. He was too well- 
 bred to attempt to apologize ; but hastened to change the 
 subject, and arrange certain points of dispute which had 
 occurred betwixt Duncan of Knock and the minister, ac- 
 knowledging that his worthy substitute was sometimes a 
 little too obstinate, as well as too energetic, in his executive 
 measures. 
 
 Mr. Butler admitted his general merits; but said, "He 
 would presume to apply to the worthy gentleman the words 
 of the poet to Marrucinus Asinius, 
 
 Manu . . . 
 Non belle uteris in joco atcue vino.' 
 
 The discourse being thus turned on parish business, 
 nothing farther occurred that can interest the reader. 
 
CHAPTER XLIX 
 
 Upon my head they placcvl a fruitless crown. 
 And put a barren scepter in my gripe, 
 Thence to be wrench'd by an unlineal hand. 
 No son of mine succeeding. 
 
 Macbeth. 
 
 A.FTER this period, but under the most strict precautions 
 against discovery, the sisters corresponded occasionally, ex- 
 changing letters about twice every year. Those of Lady 
 Staunton spoke of her husband's health and spirits as being 
 deplorably uncertain ; her own seemed also to be sinking, 
 and one of the topics on which she most frequently dwelt 
 was their want of family. Sir George Staunton, always vio- 
 lent, had taken some aversion at the next heir, whom he 
 susjiected of having irritated his friends against him during 
 his absence ; and he declared, he would bequeath Dilling- 
 ham and all its lands to an hospital, ere that fetch-and- 
 carry tell-tale should inherit an acre of it. 
 
 "Had he but a child/' said the unfortunate wife, **or 
 had that luckless infant survived, it would be some motive 
 for living and for exertion. But Heaven has denied us a 
 blessing which we have not deserved." 
 
 Such complaints, in varied form, but turning frequently 
 on the same topic, filled the letters which passed from the 
 spacious but melancholy halls of Willingham to the quiet 
 and happy parsonage at Knocktarlitie. Years meanwhile 
 rolled on amid these fruitless repinings. John Duke of 
 Argyle and Greenwich died in the year 1743, universally 
 lamented, but by none more than by the Butlers, to whom 
 his benevolence had been so distinguished. He was suc- 
 ceeded by his brother Duke Archibald, with whom they had 
 not the same intimacy ; but who continued the protection 
 which his brother had extended towards them. This, in- 
 deed, became more necessary than ever ; for, after the break- 
 ing out and suppression of the rebellion in 1745, the j)eace 
 of the country adjacent to the Highlands was considerably 
 disturbed. Marauders, or men that had been driven to that 
 desperate mode of life, quartered themselves in the fast- 
 nesses nearest to the Lowlands, which were their scene of 
 plunder ; and there is scarce a glen in the romantic and 
 
 473 
 
474 WAV ERLEY NOVELS 
 
 now peaceable Highlands of Perth, Stirling, and Dunbar- 
 tonshire where one or more did not take up their residence. 
 
 The prime jiest of the parish of Knoclvtarlitie was a cer- 
 tain Donacha Dhu na Dunaigh, or Black Duncan the Mis- 
 chievous, whom we have already casually mentioned. This 
 fellow had been originally a tinkler or " caird," many of 
 whom stroll about these districts ; but when all police was 
 disorganized by the civil war, he threw up his profession, 
 and from half thief became whole robber ; and being gen- 
 erally at the head of three or four active young fellows, and 
 he himself artful, bold, and well acquainted with the passes, 
 he plied his new profession with emolument to himself and 
 infinite plague to the country. 
 
 All were convinced that Duncan of Knock could have put 
 down his namesake Donacha any morning he had a mind ; 
 for there were in the parish a set of stout young men who 
 had joined Argyle's banner in the war under his old friend, 
 and behaved very well upon several occasions. And as for 
 their leader, as no one doubted his courage, it was gen- 
 erally supposed that Donacha had found out the mode of 
 conciliating his favor, a thing not very uncommon in that 
 age and country. This was the more readily believed, as 
 David Deans's cattle, being the property of the Duke, were 
 left untouched, when the minister's cows were carried oif 
 by the thieves. Another attempt was made to renew the 
 same act of rapine, and the cattle Vv^ere in the act of being 
 driven off, when Butler, laying his profession aside in a 
 case of such necessity, put himself at the head of some of 
 his neighbors, and rescued the creagh ; an exploit at which 
 Deans attended in person, notwithstanding his extreme old 
 ago, mounted on a Highland pony, and girded with an old 
 broadsword, likening himself (for he failed not to arrogate 
 the whole merit of the expedition) to David the son of 
 Jesse, when he recovered the spoil of Ziklag from the 
 Amalekites. This spirited behavior had so far a good effect, 
 that Donacha Dhu da Dunaigh kept his distance for some 
 time to come ; and, though his distant exploits were fre- 
 quently spoken of, he did not exercise any depredations in 
 that part of the country. He continued to flourish, and to 
 be heard of occasionally, until the year 1751, when, if the 
 fear of the second David had kept him in check, fate re- 
 leased him from that restraint, for the venerable patriarch 
 of St. Leonard's was that year gathered to his fathers. 
 
 David Deans died full of years and of honor. He is be- 
 lieved, for the exact time of his birth is not known, to have 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 475 
 
 lived upwards of ninety years ; for he used to speak of events 
 as falling under his own knowledge which happened about 
 the time of the battle of Bothweli Bridge. It was said that 
 he even bore arms there, for once, when a drunken Jacobite 
 laird wished for a Bothweli Brig Whig, that " he might stow 
 the lugs out of his head,'' David informed him with a pecul- 
 iar austerity of countenance that, if he liked to try such a 
 prank, there was one at his elbow ; and it required the inter- 
 ference of Butler to preserve the peace. 
 
 He expired in the arms of his beloved daughter, thankful 
 for all the blessings which Providence had vouchsafed to him 
 while in this valley of strife and toil, and thankful also for 
 the trials he had been visited with ; having found them, he 
 said, needful to mortify that spiritual pride and confidence in 
 his own gifts which was the side on which the wily Enemy 
 did most sorely beset him. He prayed in the most affecting 
 manner for Jeanie, her husband, and her family, and that 
 her affectionate duty to " the puir auld man'* might pur- 
 chase her length of days here and happiness hereafter ; then 
 in a pathetic petition, too well understood by those who 
 knew his family circumstances, he besought the Shepherd of 
 souls, while gathering His flock, not to forget the little one 
 that had strayed from the fold, and even then might be 
 in the hands of the ravening wolf. He prayed for the 
 national Jerusalem, that peace might be in her land and pros- 
 perity in her palaces ; for the welfare of the honorable house 
 of Argyle, and for the conversion of Duncan of Knockdunder. 
 After this he was silent, being exhausted, nor did he again 
 utter anything distinctly. He was heard, indeed, to mutter 
 something about national defections, right-hand extremes, 
 and left-hand fallings off ; but as May Hettly observed, his 
 head was " carried " at the time ; and it is probable that these 
 expressions occurred to him merely out of general habit, and 
 that he died in the full spirit of charity with all men. About 
 an hour afterwards he slept in the Lord. 
 
 Notwithstanding her father's advanced age, his death was 
 a severe shock to Mrs. Butler. Much of her time had been 
 dedicated to attending to his health and his wishes, and she 
 felt as if part of her business in the world was ended when the 
 good old man was no more. His wealth, which came nearly 
 to £1500, in disposable capital, served to raise the fortunes of 
 the family at the manse. How to dispose of this sum for the 
 best advantage of his family was matter of anxious consider- 
 ation to Butler. 
 
 *' If we put it on heritable bond, we shall maybe lose the 
 
476 WA VERLE Y N O VEL8 
 
 interest ; for there's that bond over Louusbeck's land, your 
 father could neither get principal nor interest for it. If we 
 bring it into the funds, we shall maybe lose the principal 
 and all, as many did in the South Sea scheme. The little es- 
 tate of Craigsture is in the market ; it lies within two miles 
 of the manse, and Knock says his Grace has no thought to 
 buy it. But they ask £2500, and they may, for it is worth 
 the money ; and were I to borrow the balance, the creditor 
 might call it up suddenly, or in case of my death my family 
 might be distressed." 
 
 " And so, if we had mair siller, we might buy that bonny 
 pasture-ground, where the grass comes so early ? " asked 
 Jeanie. 
 
 " Certainly, my dear ; and Knockdunder, who is a good 
 judge, is strongly advising me to it. To be sure it is his 
 nephew that is selling it." 
 
 " Aweel, Reuben," said Jeanie, *'ye maun just look up a 
 text in Scripture, as ye did when ye wanted siller before. 
 Just look up a text in the Bible." 
 
 " Ah, Jeanie," said Butler, laughing and pressing her hand 
 at the same time, ''the best people in these times can only 
 work miracles once." 
 
 " We will see," said Jeanie, composedly ; and going to the 
 closet in which she kept her honey, her sugar, her pots of 
 jelly, her vials of the more ordinary medicines, and which 
 served her, in short, as a sort of store-room, she jangled vials 
 and gallipots, till, from out the darkest nook, well flanked 
 by a triple row of bottles and jars, which she was under the 
 necessity of displacing, she brought a cracked brown can, 
 with a piece of leather tied over the top. Its contents seemed 
 to be written papers, thrust in disorder into this uncommon 
 secretaire. But from among these Jeanie brought an old 
 clasped Bible, which had been David Deans's companion in 
 his earlier wanderings, and which he had given to his daugh- 
 ter when the failure of his eyes had compelled him to use one 
 of a larger print. This she gave to Butler, who had been 
 looking at her motions with some surprise, and desired him 
 to see what that book could do for him. He opened the 
 clasps, and to his astonishment a parcel of £50 bank-notes 
 dropped out from betwixt the leaves, where they had been 
 separately lodged, and fluttered upon the floor. '' I didna 
 think to hae tauld you o' my wealth, Eeuben," said his wife, 
 smiling at his surprise, ''Hill on my deathbed, or maybe on 
 some family pinch ; but it wad be better laid out on yon 
 bonny grass-holms, than lying useless here iu this auld pigg/' 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 411 
 
 " How on earth came ye by that siller, Jeanie ? Why, 
 here is more than a thousand pounds," said Butler, lifting 
 np and counting the notes. 
 
 " If it were ten thousand, it^s a' honestly come by," said 
 Jeanie ; "and troth I kenna liow muckle there is o't, but 
 it's a' there that ever I got. And as for how I came by it, 
 Reuben — it's weel come by and honestly, as I said before. 
 And it's mair folks' secret than mine, or ye wad hae kenn'd 
 about it lang syne ; and as for ony thing else, I am not free 
 to answer mair questions about it, and ye maun just ask me 
 nane." 
 
 " Answer me but one," said Butler, " Is it all freely and 
 indisputably your own property, to dispose of it as you think 
 fit ? Is it possible no one has a claim in so large a sum 
 except you ? " 
 
 " It was mine, free to dispose of it as I like," answered 
 Jeanie ; " and I have disposed of it already, for now it is 
 yours, Reuben. You are Bible Butler now, as weel as your 
 forbear, that my puir father had sic an ill-will at. Only, if 
 ye like, I wad wish Femie to get a gude share o't when we 
 are gane." 
 
 " Certainly, it shall be as you choose. But who on earth 
 ever pitched on such a hiding-place for temporal treasures ?" 
 
 " That is just ane o' my auld-fashioned gates, as you ca' 
 them, Reuben. I thought, if DonachaDhu was to make an 
 outbreak upon us, the Bible was the last thing in the house 
 he wad meddle wi'. But an ony mair siller should drap in, 
 as it is not unlikely, I shall e'en pay it ower to you, and ye 
 may lay it out your ain way." 
 
 " And I positively must not ask you how you have come 
 by all this money ? " said the clergyman. 
 
 "Indeed, Reuben, you mii3t not ; for if you were asking 
 me very sair I wad maybe tell you, and then I am sure I 
 would do wrong." 
 
 " But tell me," said Butler, *' is it anything that distresses 
 your own mind ? " 
 
 "There is baith weal and woe come aye wi* warld's gear, 
 Reuben ; but ye maun ask me naething mair. This siller 
 binds me to naething, and can never be speered back again." 
 
 " Surely," said Mr. Butler, when he had again counted 
 over the money, as if to assure himself that the notes were 
 real, " there was never man in the world had a wife like 
 mine : a blessing seems to follow her." 
 
 "Never," said Jeanie, "since the enchanted Princess in 
 the bairns' fairy tale, that kamed gold nobles out o' the tae 
 
478 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 side of her haffit locks and Dutch dollars out o* the tether. 
 But gang away now, minister, and put by the siller, and 
 dinna keep the notes wampishing in your hand that gate, or 
 I shall wish them in the brown pigg again, for fear we get a 
 back-cast about them : we're ower near the hills in these 
 times to be thought to hae siller in the house. And, besides, 
 ye maun gree wi" Knockdunder, that has the selling o' the 
 lands ; and dinna yon be simple and let him ken o' this 
 windfa', but keep him to the very lowest penny, as if ye had 
 to borrow siller to make the price up." 
 
 In the last admonition Jeanie showed distinctly that, al- 
 though she did not understand how to secure the money 
 which came into her hands otherwise than by saving and 
 hoarding it, yet she had some part of her father David's 
 shrewdness, even upon worldly subjects. And Eeuben 
 Butler was a prudent man, and went and did even as his 
 wife had advised him. 
 
 The news quickly went abroad into the parish that the 
 minister had bought Craigsture ; and some wished him Joy, 
 and some "were sorry it had gane out of the auld name.*' 
 However, his clerical brethren, understanding that he was 
 under the necessity of going to Edinburgh about the ensuing 
 Whitsunday, to get together David Deans's cash to make up 
 the purchase-money of his new acquisition, took the oppor- 
 tunity to name him their delegate to the General Assembly, 
 or Convocation of the Scottish Church, which takes place 
 usually in the latter end of the month of May. 
 
CHAPTER L 
 
 But who is this what thing of sea or land- 
 Female of sex it seems — 
 That so bedeck'd, ornate, and gay, 
 Comes this way sailing ? 
 
 MmTON. 
 
 Not long after the incident of the Bible and the bank- 
 notes. Fortune showed that she could surprise Mrs. Butler 
 as well as her husband. The minister, in order to accomplish 
 the various pieces of business which his unwonted visit to 
 Edinburgh rendered necessary, had been under the necessity 
 of setting out from home in the latter end of the month of 
 February, concluding justly that he would find the space 
 betwixt his departure and the term of Whitsunday (24th 
 May) short enough for the purpose of bringing forward 
 those various debtors of old David Deans out of whose 
 purses a considerable part of the price of his new purchase 
 was to be made good. 
 
 Jeanie was thus in the unwonted situation of inhabiting 
 a lonely house, and she felt yet more solitary from the death 
 of the good old man, who used to divide her cares with her 
 husband. Her children were her principal resource, and to 
 them sheypaid constant attention. 
 
 It happened, a day or two after Butler's departure, that, 
 while she was engaged in some domestic duties, she heard a 
 dispute among the young folks, which, being maintained 
 with obstinacy, appeared to call for her interference. All 
 came to their natural umpire with their complaints. Femie, 
 not yet ten years old, charged Davie and Reubie with an 
 attempt to take away her book by foi'ce ; and David and 
 Eeuben replied — the elder, " That it was not a book for 
 Femie to read," and Eeuben, ''That it was about a bad 
 woman." 
 
 "Where did you get the book, ye little hempie ?" said 
 Mrs. Butler. *' How dare ye touch papa's books when he 
 IS away ? " 
 
 But the little lady, holding fast a sheet of crumpled paper, 
 declared, " It was nane o' papa's books, and May Hettly had 
 taken it ofE the muckle cheese which came from Inverara ;" 
 
 479 
 
180 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 for, as was very natural to suppose, a friendly intercourse, 
 with interchange of mutual civilities, was kept up from time 
 to time between Mrs. Dolly Dutton, now Mrs. MacCorkin- 
 dale, and her former friends. 
 
 Jeanie took the subject of contention out of the child's 
 hand, to satisfy herself of the propriety of her studies ; but 
 how much was she struck when she read upon the title of 
 the broadside sheet, " The Last Speech, Confession, and 
 Dying Words of Margaret Mac Craw, or Murdockson, ex- 
 ecuted on Harabee Hill, near Carlisle, the — day of , 
 
 1737." It was, indeed, one of those papers which Archibald 
 had bought at Longtown, when he monopolized the pedler's 
 stock, which Dolly had thrust into her trunk out of sheer 
 economy. One or two copies, it seems, had remained in her 
 repositories at Inverary, till she changed to need them in 
 packing a cheese, which, as a very superior production, 
 was sent in the way of civil challenge to the dairy at Knock- 
 tarlitie. 
 
 The title of this paper, so strangely fallen into the very 
 hands from which, in well-meant respect to her feelings, it 
 had been so long detained, was of itself sufficiently startling ; 
 but the narrative itself was so interesting that Jeanie, shak- 
 ing herself loose from the children, ran upstairs to her own 
 apartment, and bolted the door, to peruse it without interrup- 
 tion. 
 
 The narrative, which appeared to have been drawn up, or 
 at least corrected, by the clergyman who attended this un- 
 happy woman, stated the crime for which she suffered to 
 have been "her active part in that atrocious robbery and 
 murder, committed near two years since near Haltwhistle, 
 for which the notorious Frank Levitt was committed for 
 trial at Lancaster assizes. It was supposed the evidence of 
 the accomplice, Thomas Tuck, commonly called Tyburn 
 Tom, upon which the woman had been convicted, would 
 weigh equally heavy against him ; although many were in- 
 clined to think it was Tuck himself who had struck the 
 fatal blow, according to the dying statement of Meg Mur- 
 dockson." 
 
 After a circumstantial account of the crime for which she 
 suffered, there was a brief sketch of Margaret's life. It was 
 stated that she was a Scotchwoman by birth, and married a 
 soldier in the Camerouian regiment ; that she long followed 
 the camp, and had doubtless acquired in fields of battle, and 
 similar scenes, that ferocity and love of plunder for which 
 she had been afterwards distinguished ; that her husband. 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 48] 
 
 having obtained his discharge, became servant to a beneficed 
 clergyman of high situation and character in Lincohishire, 
 and that she acquired the confidence and esteem of that 
 honorable family. She had lost this many years after her 
 husband's death, it was stated, in consequence of conniving, 
 at the irregularities of her daughter with the heir of the 
 family, added to the suspicious circumstances attending the 
 birth of a child, which was strongly suspected to have met 
 with foul jjlay, in order to preserve, if possible, the girl's 
 reputation. After this, she had led a Avandering life both 
 in England and Scotland, under color sometimes of telling 
 fortunes, sometimes of driving a trade in smuggled wares, 
 but, in fact, receiving stolen goods, and occasionally actively 
 joining in the exploits by which they were obtained. Many 
 of her crimes she had boasted of after conviction, and there 
 was one circumstance for which she seemed to feel a mixture 
 of joy and occasional compunction. When she was residing 
 in the suburbs of Edinburgh during the preceding summer, 
 a girl, who had been seduced by one of her confederates, 
 was entrusted to her charge, and in her house delivered of 
 a male infant. Her daughter, whose mind was in a state of 
 derangement ever since she had lost her own child, accord- 
 ing to the criminal's account, carried off the poor girl's 
 infant, taking it for her own, of the reality of whose death 
 she at times could not be persuaded. 
 
 Margaret Murdockson stated that she for some time be- 
 lieved her daughter had actually destroyed the infant in 
 her mad fits, and that she gave the father to understand so, 
 but afterwards learned that a female stroller had got it from 
 her. She showed some compunction at having separated 
 mother and child, especially as the mother had nearly suffered 
 death, being condemned, on the Scottish law, for the sup- 
 posed murder of her infant. When it was asked what possible 
 interest she could have had in exposing the unfortunate girl 
 to suffer for a crime she had not committed, she asked, if 
 they thought she was going to put her own daughter into 
 trouble to save another. She did not know what the Scottish 
 law would have done to her for carrying the child away. 
 This answer was by no means satisfactory to the clergyman, 
 and he discovered, by close examination, that she had a deep 
 and revengeful hatred against the young iDcrson whom she 
 had thus injured. But the paper intimated that, whatever 
 besides she had communicated upon this subject, was con- 
 fided by her in private to the worthy and reverend archdeacon 
 who had bestowed such particular pains in affording her 
 
482 WA VEELEr NO VELS 
 
 spiritnal assistance. The broadside went on to intimate that, 
 after her execution, of which the particulars were given, her 
 daughter, the insane person mentioned more tlian once, and 
 who was generally known by the name of Madge Wildfire, 
 had been very ill-used by the populace, under the belief that 
 she was a sorceress, and an accomplice in her mother's crimes, 
 and had been with difficulty rescued by the prompt inter- 
 ference of the police. 
 
 Such (for we omit moral reflections and all that may seem 
 unnecessary to the ex23lanation of our story) was the tenor of 
 the broadside. To Mrs. Butler it contained intelligence 
 of the highest importance, since it seemed to afford the most 
 unequivocal proof of her sister's innocence respecting the 
 crime for which she had so nearly suffered. It is true, 
 neither she nor her husband, nor even her father, had ever 
 believed her capable of touching her infant with an un- 
 kind hand when in possession of her reason ; but there 
 was a darkness on the subject and what might have hap- 
 pened in a moment of insanity was dreadful to think upon. 
 Besides whatever was their own conviction, they had no 
 means of establishing Effie's innocence to the M'orld, which, 
 according to the tenor of this fugitive publication, was now 
 at length completely manifested by the dying confession of 
 the person chiefly interested in concealing it. 
 
 After thanking God for a discovery so dear to her feelings, 
 Mrs. Butler began to consider what use she should make of 
 it. To have shown it to her husband would have been her 
 first impuse ; but, besides that he was absent from home, 
 and the matter too delicate to be the subject of correspon- 
 dence by an indifferent penwoman, Mrs. Butler recollected 
 that he was not possessed of the information necessary to 
 form a judgment upon the occasion ; and that, adhering to 
 the rule which she had considered as most advisable, she had 
 best transmit the information immediately to her sister, and 
 leave her to adjust with her husband the mode in which 
 they should avail themselves of it. Accordingly, she des- 
 patched a special messenger to Glasgow with a packet, inclos- 
 ing the " Confession " of Margaret Murdockson, addressed, 
 as usual, under cover to Mr. Whiterose of York. She ex- 
 pected, with anxiety, an answer ; but none arrived in the 
 usual course of post, and she was left to imagine how many 
 various causes might account for Lady Staunton's silence. 
 She began to be half sorry that she had parted with the 
 printed paper, both for fear of its having fallen into bad 
 hands, and from the desire of regaining the document, which 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 483 
 
 might be essential to establish her sister's innocence. She 
 was even doubting whether she had not better commit the 
 Avhole matter to her husband's consideration, when other in- 
 cidents occurred to divert her purpose. 
 
 Jeanie (she is a favorite, and we beg her pardon for still 
 using the familiar title) had walked down to the seaside 
 with her children one morning after breakfast, when the 
 boys, whose sight was more discriminating than hers, ex- 
 claimed, that " the Captain's coach and six was coming 
 right for the shore, with ladies in it." Jeanie instinct- 
 ively bent her eyes on the approaching boat, and became 
 soon sensible that there were two females in the stern, 
 seated beside the gracious Duncan, who acted as pilot. It 
 was a point of politeness to walk towards the landing-place, 
 in order to receive them, especially as she saw that the 
 (Jap tarn of Knockdhunder was upon honor and ceremony. 
 His piper was in the bow of the boat, sending forth music, 
 of which one lialf sounded the better that the other was 
 tlrowned by the waves and the breeze. Moreover, he him- 
 self had his brigadier wig newly frizzed, his bonnet (he had 
 abjured the cocked hat) decorated with St. George's red 
 cross, his uniform mounted as a captain of militia, the 
 Duke's flag with the boar's head displayed, — all intimated 
 parade and gala. 
 
 As Mrs. Butler approached the landing-place, she ob- 
 served the Captain hand the ladies ashore with marks of 
 great attention, and the parties advanced towards her, the 
 Captain a few steps before the two ladies, of whom the 
 taller and elder leaned on the shoulder of the othei-, who 
 seemed to be an attendant or servant. 
 
 As they met, Duncan, in his best, most important, and 
 deepest tone of Highland civility, *' pegged leave to intro- 
 duce to Mrs. Putler, Lady — eh — eh — I hae forgotten your 
 leddyship's name ! '* 
 
 "Nevermind my name, sir," said the lady; "I trust 
 
 Mrs. Butler will be at no loss. The Duke's letter " 
 
 And, as she observed Mrs. Butler look confused, she said 
 again to Duncan, something sharply, " Did you not send 
 the letter last night, sir ? " 
 
 " In troth and I didna, and I crave your leddyship's 
 pardon ; but you see, matam, I thought it would do as weel 
 to-day, pecause Mrs. Putler is never taen out o' sorts — 
 never ; and the coach was out fishing ; and the gig was gane 
 
 to Greenock for a cag of prandy ; and Put here's his 
 
 Grace's letter." 
 
484 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 " Give it me, sir," said the lady, taking it out of hia 
 hand ; " since you have not found it convenient to do me 
 the favor to send it before me, I will deliver it mysel." 
 
 Mrs. Butler looked with great attention, and a certain du- 
 oious feeling of deep interest, on the lady who thus expressed 
 herself with authority over the man of authority, and to 
 whose mandates he seemed to submit, resigning the letter 
 with a ''Just as your leddyship is pleased to order it." 
 
 The lady was rather above the middle size, beautifully 
 made, though something e7nbonpoint, with a hand and arm 
 exquisitely formed. Her manner was easy, dignified, and 
 commanding, and seemed to evince high birth and the 
 habits of elevated society. She wore a traveling dress, a 
 gray beaver hat, and a veil of Flanders lace. Two foot- 
 men, in rich liveries, who got out of the barge, and lifted 
 out a trunk and portmanteau, appeared to belong to her 
 suite. 
 
 "As you did not receive the letter, madam, which should 
 have served for my introduction — for I presume you are 
 Mrs. Butler — I will not present it to you till you are so 
 good as to admit me into your house without it." 
 
 "To pe sure, matam," said Knockdunder, "ye canna 
 doubt Mrs. Putler will do that. Mrs. Putler, this is Lady 
 — Lady — these tamn'd Southern names rin out o' my head 
 like a stane trowling downhill — put I believe she is a Scot- 
 tish woman porn — the mair our credit ; and I presume her 
 leddyship is of the house of " 
 
 "The Duke of Argyle knows my family very well, sir," 
 said the lady, in a tone which seemed designed to silence 
 Duncan, or, at any rate, which had tiiat elfect completely. 
 
 There was something about the whole of this stranger's 
 address, and tone, and manner which acted upon Jeanie's 
 feelings like the illusions of a dream, tliat teaze us with a 
 puzzling approach to reality. Something there was of her 
 sister in the gait and manner of the stranger, as well as in 
 the sound of her voice, and something also, when, lifting 
 her veil, she showed features to which, changed as they 
 were in expression and complexion, she could not but attach 
 many remembrances. 
 
 The stranger was turned of thirty certainly ; but so well 
 were her personal charms assisted by the power of dress 
 and arrangement of ornament, that she might well have 
 passed for one-and-twenty. And her behavior was so steady 
 and so composed, that as often as Mrs. Butler perceived 
 anew some point of resemblance to her unfortunate sister, 
 
THJS HE A K T OF MIDLO THIAN i65 
 
 SO often the sustained self-command and absolute composure 
 of the stranger destroyed the ideas whicli began to arise in 
 her imagination. She led the way silently towards the 
 manse, lost in a confusion of reflections, and trusting the 
 letter with which slie was to be there entrusted would afford 
 her satisfactory explanation of what was a most puzzling 
 and embarrassing scene. 
 
 The lady maintained in the mean while the manners of a 
 ?tranger of rank. She admired the various points of view 
 like one who has studied nature and the best representations 
 of art. At length she took notice of the children. 
 
 " These are two fine young mountaineers. Yours, madam, 
 I presume ? " 
 
 Jeanie replied in the affirmative. The stranger sighed, 
 and sighed once more as they were presented to her by 
 name. 
 
 " Come here, Femie," said Mrs. Butler, " and hold your 
 liead up.'* 
 
 " What is your daughter's name, madam ? ''said the lady. 
 " Euphemia, madam," answered Mrs. Butler. 
 " I thought the ordinary Scottish contraction of the name 
 had been Effie," replied the stranger, in a tone which went 
 to Jeanie's heart ; for in that single word there was more of 
 her sister — more of lang syne ideas— than in all the reminis- 
 cences which her own heart had anticipated, or the features 
 and manner of the stranger had suggested. 
 
 When they reached the manse, the lady gave Mrs. Butler 
 the letter which she had taken out of the hands of Knock- 
 dunder ; and as she gave it she pressed her hand, adding 
 aloud. " Perhaps, madam, you will have the goodness to get 
 me a little milk." 
 
 " And me a drap of the gray-peard, if you please, Mrs. 
 Putler," added Duncan. 
 
 Mrs. Butler withdrew ; but deputing to May Hettley and 
 to David the supply of the strangers' wants, she hastened 
 into her own room to read the letter. The envelope was 
 addressed in the Duke of Argyle's hand, and requested Mrs. 
 Butler's attentions and civility to a lady of rank, a particular 
 friend of his late brother. Lady Staunton of Willingham, 
 who, being recommended to drink goats' whey by the phy- 
 sicians, was to honor the Lodge at Eoseneath with her 
 residence, while her husband made a sliort tour in Scotland. 
 But within the same cover, which had been given to Lady 
 Staunton unsealed, was a letter from that lady, intended tc- 
 prepare her sister for meeting her, and which, but for the 
 
486 WA VEELET NOVELS 
 
 Captain's negligence, she ought to have received on the pre- 
 ceding evening. It stated that the news in Jeanie's last 
 letter had been so interesting to her husband that he was 
 determined to inquire farther into the confession made at 
 Carlisle, and the fate of that poor innocent, and that, as he 
 had been in some degree successful, she had, by the most 
 earnest entreaties, extorted rather than obtained his per- 
 mission, under promise of observing the most strict incog- 
 nito, to spend a week or two with her sister, or in her 
 neighborhood, while he was prosecuting researches, to which 
 (though it appeared to her very vainly) he seemed to attach 
 some hopes of success. 
 
 There was a postscript, desiring that Jeanie would trust 
 to Lady S. the management of their intercourse, and be 
 content with assenting to what she should propose. After 
 reading and again reading the letter, Mrs. Butler hurried 
 downstairs, divided betwixt the fear of betraying her 
 secret and the desire to throw herself upon her sister's neck. 
 Effie received her with a glance at once affectionate and 
 cautionary, and immediately proceeded to speak. 
 
 "I have been telling Mr. , Captain — '-, this gentle- 
 man, Mrs. Butler, that if you could accommodate me with 
 an apartment in your house, and a place for Ellis to sleep, 
 and for the two men, it would suit me better than the 
 Lodge, which his Grace has so kindly placed at my disposal. 
 I am advised I should reside as near where the goats feed as 
 possible.'' 
 
 " I have peen assuring my leddy, Mrs. Putler," said Dun- 
 can, " that, though it could not discommode you to receive 
 any of his Grace's visitors or mine, yet she had mooch potter 
 stay at the Lodge ; and for the gaits, the creatures can be 
 fetched there, in respect it is mair fitting they suld wait 
 upon her leddy ship, than she upon the like of them." 
 
 *' By no means derange the goats for me" said Lady 
 Staunton; ''I am certain the milk must be much better 
 here." And this she said with languid negligence, as one 
 whose sliglitest intimation of humor is to bear down all 
 argument. 
 
 Mrs. Butler hastened to intimate that her house, such as 
 it was, was heartily at the disposal of Lady Staunton : but 
 the Captain continued to remonstrate. 
 
 ** The Duke " he said, '' had written " 
 
 ** I will settle all that with his Grace " 
 
 "And there were the things had been sent down frae 
 Glasco ** 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 487 
 
 ** Anything necessary might be sent over to the parsonage. 
 She would beg the favor of Mrs. Butler to show her an 
 apartment, and of the Captain to have her trunks, etc., sent 
 over from Roseneath." 
 
 So she courtesied off poor Duncan, who departed, saying 
 in his secret soul, " Cot tamn her English impudence I 
 She takes possession of the minister's house as an it were 
 her ain ; and speaks to shentlemens as if they were pounden 
 servants, an' pe tamn'd to her ! And there's the deer that 
 was shot too ; but we will send it ower to the manse, whilk 
 will pe put civil, seeing I hae prought worthy Mrs, Putler 
 sic a fliskmahoy." And with these kind intentions, he went 
 to the shore to give his orders accordingly. 
 
 In the mean time, the meeting of the sisters was as affec- 
 tionate as it was extraordinary, and each evinced her feel- 
 ings in the way proper to her character. Jeanie was so much 
 overcome by wonder, and even by awe, that her feelings were 
 deep, stunning and almost overpowering. Elhe, on the other 
 hand, wept, laughed, sobbed, screamed, and clapped her 
 hands for joy, all in the space of five minutes, giving way 
 at once, and without reserve, to a natural excessive vivacity 
 of temper, wdiich no one, however, knew better how to 
 restrain under the rules of artificial breeding. 
 
 After an hour had passed like a moment in their expres- 
 sions of mutual affection, Lady Staunton observed the 
 Captain walking with impatient steps below the window. 
 '* That tiresome Highland fool has returned upon our hands,'* 
 she said. "1 will pray him to grace us with his absence." 
 
 " Hout no ! hout no ! " said Mrs. Butler, in a tone of 
 entreaty ; " ye maunna affront the Captain." 
 
 ** Affront!" said Lady Staunton; ''nobody is ever 
 affronted at what I do or say, my dear. However, I will 
 endure him, since you think it proper." 
 
 The Captain was accordingly graciously requested by 
 Lady Staunton to remain during dinner. During this visit 
 his studious and punctilious complaisance towards tlie lady 
 of rank was happily contrasted by the cavalier air of civil 
 familiarity in which he indulged towards the minister's 
 wife. 
 
 " I have not been able to persuade Mrs. Butler," said 
 Lady Staunton to the Captain, during the interval when 
 Jeanie had left the parlor, "to let me talk of making any 
 recompense for storming her house and garrisoning it in the 
 way I have done." 
 
 ** Doubtless, matam," said the Captain, " it wad ill pecome 
 
iS8 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 Mrs. Pntler, wha is a very decent pody, to make any snch 
 sharge to a lady who comes from my house, or his Grace's, 
 which is the same thing. And, speaking of garrisons, in 
 the year forty-five 1 was poot with a garrison of twenty of 
 my lads in the house of Invergarry, whilk had near been 
 unhappily, for " 
 
 " I beg your pardon, sir. But I wish I could think of 
 some way of imdemnifyiug this good lady." 
 
 " 0, no need of intemnifying at all ; no trouble for her — 
 nothing at all. So, peiug in the house of Invergarry, and 
 the people about it being uncanny, I doubted the warst, 
 and " 
 
 " Do you happen to know, sir," said Lady Staunton, " if 
 any of these two lads — these young Butlers, I mean — show 
 any turn for the army ? " 
 
 " Could not say, indeed my leddy," replied Knockdunder, 
 "So, I knowing the people to pe unchancy, and not to 
 lippen to, and hearing a pibroch in the wood, I pegan to pid 
 my lads look to their flints, and then " 
 
 " For," said Lady Staunton, with the most ruthless dis- 
 regard to the narrative which she mangled by these inter- 
 ruptions, "if that should be the case, it should cost Sir 
 George but the asking a pair of colors for one of them at the 
 War Office, since we have always supported government, and 
 never had occasion to trouble ministers." 
 
 "And if you please, my leddy," said Duncan, who began 
 to find some savor in this proposal, " as I hae a braw weel- 
 grown lad of a nevoy, ca'd Duncan MacGilligan, that is as 
 pig as paith the Putler pairns putten thegither. Sir George 
 could ask a pair for him at the same time, and it wad pe put 
 ae asking for a'." 
 
 Lady Staunton only answered this hint with a well-bred 
 stare, "which gave no sort of encouragement. 
 
 Jeanie, who now returned, was lost in amazement at the 
 wonderful difference betwixt the helpless and despairing girl 
 whom she had seen stretched on a flock-bed in a dungeon, 
 expecting a violent and disgraceful death, and last as a for- 
 lorn exile upon the midnight beach, with the elegant, well- 
 bred, beautiful woman before her. The features, now that 
 her sister's veil was laid aside, did not appear so extremely 
 different as the whole manner, expression, look, and bearing. 
 In outside show. Lady Staunton seemed completely a crea- 
 ture too soft and fair for sorrow to have touched ; so much 
 accustomed to have all her whims complied with by those 
 around her, that she seemed to expect she should even be 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 489 
 
 saved the trouble of forming them ; and so totally unac- 
 quainted with contradiction, that she did not even use the 
 tone of self-will, since to breathe a wish was to have it 
 fulfilled. She made no ceremony of ridding herself of 
 Duncan as soon as the evening approached ; but compli- 
 mented him out of the house, under pretext of fatigue, with 
 the utmost nonchalance. 
 
 When they were alone, her sister could not help express- 
 ing her wonder at the self-possession with which Lady 
 Staunton sustained her part. 
 
 " I daresay you are surprised at it," said Lady Staunton, 
 composedly; "for you, my dear Jeanie, have been truth 
 itself from your cradle upwards ; but you must remember 
 that I am a liar of fifteen years' standing, and therefore 
 must by this time be used to my character." 
 
 In fact, during the feverish tumult of feelings excited 
 during the two or three first days, Mrs. Butler thought her 
 sister"^ manner was completely contradictory of the de- 
 sponding tone which pervaded her correspondence. She was 
 moved to tears, indeed, by the sight of her father's grave, 
 marked by a modest stone, recording his piety and integ- 
 rity ; but lighter impressions and associations had also 
 power over her. She amused herself with visiting the 
 dairy, in which she had so long been assistant, and was so 
 near discovering herself to May Hettly, by betraying her 
 acquaintance with the celebrated receipt for Dunlop cheese, 
 that she compared herself to Bedredden Hassan, whom the 
 vizier, his father-in-law, discovered by his superlative skill 
 in composing cream-tarts with pepper in them. But when 
 the novelty of such avocations ceased to amuse her, she 
 showed to her sister but too plainly that the gaudy coloring 
 with which she veiled her unhappiness afforded as little real 
 comfort as the gay uniform of the soldier when it is drawn 
 over his mortal wound. There were moods and moments in 
 which her despondence seemed to exceed even that which 
 she herself had described in her letters, and which too well 
 convinced Mrs. Butler how little her sister's lot which in 
 appearance was so brilliant, was in reality to be envied. 
 
 There was one source, however, from which Lady Staunton 
 derived a pure degree of pleasure. Gifted in every partic- 
 ular with a higher degree of imagination than that of her 
 sister, she was an admirer of the beauties of nature, a taste 
 which compensates many evils to those who happen to enjoy 
 it. Here her character of a fine lady stopped short, where 
 she ought to have 
 
490 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 Scream 'd at ilk cleugh, and screech'd at ilka how. 
 As loud as slie had seen the worriecow. 
 
 On the contrary, with the two boys for her guides, she 
 undertook long and fatiguing walks among the neighboring 
 mountains, to visits glens, lakes, waterfalls, or whatever 
 scenes of natural wonder or beauty lay concealed among 
 their recesses. It is Wordsworth, I think, who, talking of 
 an old man under difficulties, remarks, with a singular at- 
 tention to nature, 
 
 Whether it was care that spurred him, 
 God only knows ; but to the very last, 
 He had the lighest foot in Ennerdale. 
 
 In the same manner, languid, listless, and unhappy within 
 doors, at times even indicating something which approached 
 near to contempt of the homely accommodations of her 
 sister's house, although she instantly endeavored, by a 
 thousand kindnesses, to atone for such ebullitions of spleen. 
 Lady Staunton appeared to feel interest and energy while in 
 the oj)en air, and traversing the mountain landscapes in 
 society with the two boys, whose ears she delighted with 
 stories of what she had seen in other countries, and what 
 she had to show them at Willingham Manor. And they, on 
 the other hand, exerted themselves in doing the honors of 
 Dunbartonshire to the lady who seemed so kind, insomuch 
 that there was scarce a glen in the neighboring hills to which 
 they did not introduce her. 
 
 Upon one of these excursions, while Keuben was otherwise 
 employed, David alone acted as Lady Staunton's guide, and 
 promised to show her a cascade in the hills, grander and 
 higher than any they had yet visited. It was a walk of five 
 long miles, and over rough ground, varied, however, and 
 cheered, by mountain views, and peeps now of the firth and 
 its islands, now of distant lakes, now of rocks and pre- 
 cipices. The scene itself, too, when they reached it, amply 
 rewarded the labor of the walk. A single shoot carried a 
 considerable stream over the face of a black rock, which 
 contrasted strongly in color with the white foam of the 
 cascade, and, at the dej)th of about twenty feet, another 
 rock intercepted the view of the bottom of the fall. The 
 water, wheeling out far beneath, swept round the crag, 
 which thus bounded their view, and tumbled down the 
 rocky glen in a torrent of foam. Those who love nature 
 always desire to nenetrate into its utmost recesses, and Lady 
 Staunton asked David whether there was not some mode of 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 491 
 
 gaining a view of the abyss at the foot of the fall. He said 
 that he knew a station on a shelf on the further side of the 
 intercepting rock, from which the whole waterfall was 
 visible, but that the road to it was steep and slippery and 
 dangerous. Bent, however, on gratifying her curiosity, she 
 desired him to lead the way ; and accordingly he did so over 
 crag and stone, anxiously pointing out to her the resting- 
 places where she ought to step, for their mode of advancing 
 soon ceased to be walking, and became scrambling. 
 
 In this manner, clinging like sea-birds to the face of the 
 rock, they were enabled at length to turn round it, and 
 came full in front of the fall, which here had a most tre- 
 mendous aspect, boiling, roaring, and thundering with un- 
 ceasing din into a black cauldron, a hundred feet at least 
 below them, which resembled the crater of a volcano. The 
 noise, the dashing of the waters, which gave an unsteady 
 appearance to all around them, the trembling even of the 
 huge crag on which they stood, the precariousness of their 
 footing, for there was scarce room for them to stand on 
 the shelf of rock which they had thus attained, had so 
 powerful an effect on the senses and imagination of Lady 
 Staunton, that she called out to David she was falling, and 
 would in fact have dropped from the crag had he not 
 caught hold of her. The boy was bold and stout of his age ; 
 still he was but fourteen years old, and as his assistance 
 gave no confidence to Lady Staunton, she felt her situation 
 become really perilous. The chance was that, in the ap- 
 palling novelty of the circumstances, he might have caught 
 the infection of her panic, in which case it is likely that 
 both must have perished. She now screamed with terror, 
 though without hope of calling any one to her assistance. 
 To her amazement, the scream was answered by a whistle 
 from above, of a tone so clear and shrill that it was heard 
 even amid the noise of the waterfall. 
 
 In this moment of terror and perplexity, a human face, 
 black, and having grizzled hair hanging down over the fore- 
 head and cheeks, and mixing with mustaches and a beard 
 of the same color, and as much matted and tangled, looked 
 down on them from a broken part of the rock above. 
 
 " It is The Enemy !" said the boy, who had very nearly 
 become incapable of supporting Lady Staunton. 
 
 "Xo, no,"' she exclaimed, inaccessible to supernatural 
 terrors, and restored to the presence of mind of which she 
 had been deprived by the danger of her situation, **it is a 
 man. For God's sake, my friend, help us I '' 
 
492 IVAVERLEY ^^OVELS 
 
 The face glared at them, but made no answer ; in a 
 second or two afterwards, another, that of a young lad ap- 
 T)eared beside the first, equally swart and begrimed, but 
 having tangled black hair, descending in elf locks, which 
 gave an air of wildness and ferocity to the whole expression 
 of the countenance. Lady Staunton repeated her entreaties, 
 clinging to the rock with more energy, as she found that, 
 from the superstitions terror of her guide, he became in- 
 capable of supporting her. Her words were probably 
 drowned in the roar of the falling stream, for, though she 
 observed the lips of the younger being whom she suppli- 
 cated move as he spoke in reply, not a word reached her 
 ear. 
 
 A moment afterwards it appeared he had not mistaken the 
 nature of her supplication, which, indeed was easy to be 
 understood from her situation and gestures. The younger 
 apparition disappeared, and immediately after lowered a 
 ladder of twisted osiers, about eight feet in length, and 
 made signs to David to hold it fast while the lady ascended. 
 Despair gives courage, and finding herself in this fearful 
 predicament Lady Staunton did not hesitate to risk the 
 ascent by the precarious means which this accommodation 
 afforded ; and, carefully assisted by the person who had 
 thus providentially come to her aid, she reached the sum- 
 mit in safety. She did not, however, even look around her 
 until she saw her nephew lightly and actively follow her 
 examjjle, although there was now no one to hold the ladder 
 fast. When she saw him safe she looked round, and could 
 not help shuddering at the place and company in which she 
 found herself. 
 
 They were on a sort of platform of rock, surrounded on 
 every side by precipices, or overhanging cliffs, and which it 
 would have been scarce possible for any research to have 
 discovered, as it did not seem to be commanded by any ac- 
 cessible position. It was partly covered by a huge frag- 
 ment of stone, which, having fallen from the cliffs above, 
 had been intercepted by others in its descent, and jammed 
 so as to serve for a sloping roof to the further part of the 
 broad shelf or platform on which they stood. A quantity 
 of withered moss and leaves, strewed beneath this rude and 
 wretched shelter, showed the lairs — they could not be termed 
 the beds — of those who dwelt in this eyrie, for it deserved 
 no other name. Of these, two were before Lady Staunton. 
 One, the same who had afforded such timely assistance, 
 stood upright before them, a tall, lathy, young savage ; his 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 498 
 
 dress a tattered plaid and philabeg, no slioes, no stockings, 
 no hat or bonnet, the place of the last being supplied by his 
 hair, twisted and matted like the glibb of the ancient wild 
 Irish, and, like theirs, forming a natural thicket, stout 
 enough to bear off the cut of a sword. Yet the eyes of the 
 lad were keen and sparkling ; his gesture free and noble, 
 like that of all savages. He took little notice of David 
 Butler, but gazed with wonder on Lady Staunton, as a be- 
 ing different probably in dress, and superior in beauty, to 
 anything he had ever beheld. The old man whose face 
 they had first seen remained recumbent in the same posture 
 as when he had first looked down on them, only his face 
 was turned towards them as he lay and looked up with a 
 lazy and listless apathy, which belied the general expression 
 of his dark and rugged features. He seemed a very tall 
 man, but was scarce better clad than the younger. He had 
 on a loose Lowland greatcoat, and ragged tartan trews or 
 pantaloons. 
 
 All around looked singularly wild and unpropitious. Be- 
 neath the brow of the incumbent rock was a charcoal fire, 
 on which there was a still working, with bellows, pincers, 
 hammers, a movable anvil, and other smiths* tools ; three 
 giins, with two or three sacks and barrels, were disposed 
 against the wall of rock, under shelter of the superincum- 
 bent crag ; a dirk and two swords, and a Lochaber ax, lay 
 scattered around the fire, of which the red glare cast a 
 ruddy tinge on the precipitous foam and midst of the cas- 
 cade. The lad, when he had satisfied his curiosity with 
 staring at Lady Staunton, fetched an earthen jar and a horn 
 cup, into which he poured some spirits, apparently hot 
 from the still, and offered them successively to the lady and 
 to the boy. 13otli declined, and the young savage quaffed 
 off the draught, which could not amount to less than three 
 ordinary glasses. He then fetched another ladder from the 
 corner of the cavern, if it could be termed so, adjusted it 
 against the transverse rock, which served as a roof, and 
 made signs for the lady to ascend it, while he held it fast 
 below. She did so, and found herself on the top of a broad 
 rock, near the brink of the chasm into which the brook pre- 
 cipitates itself. She could see the crest of the torrent flung 
 loose down the rock, like the mane of a wild horse, but with- 
 out having any view of the lower platform from which she 
 had ascended. 
 
 David was not suffered to mount so easily ; the lad, from 
 8port or love of mischief, shook the ladder a good deal as he 
 
494 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 ascended, and seemed to enjoy the terror of 5'oung Butler ; 
 80 that, when they had both come up, they looked on each 
 other with no friendly eyes. Neither, however, spoke. 
 The young caird, or tinker, or gipsy, with a good deal of 
 attention, assisted Lady Staunton up a very perilous ascent 
 which she had still to encounter, and they were followed by 
 David Butler, until all three stood clear of the ravine on 
 the side of a mountain, whose sides were covered with 
 heather and sheets of loose shingle. So narrow was the 
 chasm out of which they ascended, that, unless when they 
 were on the very verge, the eye passed to the other side 
 without perceiving the existence of a rent so fearful, and 
 nothing was seen of the cataract, though its deep hoarse 
 voice was still heard. 
 
 Lady Staunton, freed from the danger of rock and river, 
 had now a new subject of anxiety. Her two guides con- 
 fronted each other with angry countenances ; for David, 
 though younger by two years at least, and much shorter, 
 was a stout, well-set, and very bold boy. 
 
 " You are the blackcoat's son of Knocktarlitie,'* said the 
 young caird ; " if you come here again, I'll pitch you down 
 the linn like a foot-ball/' 
 
 " Ay, lad, ye are very short to be sae lang," retorted 
 young Butler, undauntedly, and measuring his opponent's 
 height with an undismayed eye. "1 am thinking you are 
 a gillie of Black Donacha ; if you come down the glen, 
 we'll shoot you like a wild buck." 
 
 " You may tell your father," said the lad, " that the leaf 
 on the timber is the last he shall see ; we will hae amends 
 for the mischief he has done to us." 
 
 " I hope he will live to see mony simmers, and do ye 
 muckle mair," answered David. 
 
 More might have passed, but.Lady Staunton stepped be- 
 tween them with her purse in her hand, and, taking out a 
 guinea, of which it contained several visible through the 
 network, as well as some silver in the opposite end, oflEered 
 it to the caird. 
 
 " The white siller, lady — the white siller," said the young 
 savage, to whom the value of gold was probably unknown. 
 
 Lady Staunton poured what silver she had into his hand, 
 and the juvenile savage snatched it greedily, and made a 
 sort of half inclination of acknowledgment and adieu. 
 
 " Let us make haste now. Lady Staunton," said David, 
 *'for there will be little peace with them since they hae 
 seen your purse." 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 495 
 
 They hurried on as fast as they could ; but they had not 
 descended the hill a hundred yards or two before they heard 
 a halloo behind them, and looking back, saw both the old 
 man and the young one pursuing them with great speed, 
 the former with a gun on his shoulder. Very fortunately, 
 at this moment, a sportsman, a gamekeeper of the Duke, 
 who was engaged in stalking deer, appeared on the face of 
 the hill. The bandits stopped on seeing him, and Lady 
 Stannton hastened to put herself under his protection. He 
 leadily gave them his escort liome, and it required his athle- 
 tic form and loaded rifle to restore to the lady her usual con- 
 fidence and courage. 
 
 Donald listened with much gravity to the account of their 
 adventure ; and answered with great composure to David's 
 repeated inquiries, whether he could have suspected that 
 the cairds had been lurking there — •'' Inteed, Master Tavie, 
 I might hae had some guess that they were there, or there- 
 about, though maybe I had nane. But I am aften on the 
 hill ; and they are like wasps ; tliey stang only them that 
 fashes them ; sae, for my part, I make a point not to see 
 them, unless I were ordered out on the preceese errand by 
 MacCallummore or Knockdunder, whilk is a clean different 
 case." 
 
 They reached the manse late ; and Lady Staunton, who 
 had (suffered much both from fright and fatigue, never again 
 permitted her love of the picturesque to carry her so far 
 among the mountains without a stronger escort than David, 
 though she acknowledged he had won the stand of colors by 
 the intrepidity he had displayed, so soon as assured he had 
 to do with an eartiily antagonist. •'! couldna maybe hae 
 made muckle o' a bargain wi' yon lang callant," said David, 
 when thus complimented on his valor ; *' but when ye deal 
 ffi' thae folk, it's tyne heart tyne a,'." 
 
CHAPTER LI 
 
 What see you there, 
 That hath so cowarded and aliased your blood 
 Out of appearance ! 
 
 Henry V. 
 
 We are under the necessity of returning to Edinburgh, 
 where the General Assembly was now sitting. It is well 
 known that some Scottish nobleman is usually deputed as 
 High Commissioner, to represent the person of the king in 
 this convocation ; that he has allowances for the purpose of 
 maintaining a certain outward show and solemnity, and sup- 
 porting the hospitality of the representative of Majesty. 
 Whoever is distinguished by rank or office in or near the 
 capital usually attends the morning levees of the Lord Com- 
 missioner, and walks with him in procession to the place 
 where the Assembly meets. 
 
 The nobleman who held this office chanced to be particu- 
 larly connacted with Sir George Staunton, and it was in his 
 train that he ventured to tread the High Street of Edin- 
 burgh for the first time since the fatal night of Porteous's 
 execution. Walking at the right hand of the representative 
 of Sovereignty, covered with lace and embroidery, and with 
 all the paraphernalia of wealth and rank, the handsome 
 though wasted form of the English stranger attracted all 
 eyes. Who could have recognized in a form so aristocratic 
 the plebeian convict that, disguised in the rags of Madge 
 Wildfire, had led the formidable rioters to their destined 
 revenge ? There was no possibility that this could happen, 
 even if any of his ancient acquaintances, a race of men 
 whose lives are so brief, had happened to survive the span 
 commonly allotted to evil-doers. Besides, the whole affair 
 had long fallen asleep, with the angry passions in which it 
 originated. Nothing is more certain than that persons 
 known to have had a share in that formidable riot, and to 
 have fled from Scotland on that account, had made money 
 abroad, returned to enjoy it in their native country, and 
 lived and died undisturbed by the law.* The forbearance 
 of the magistrate was in these instances wise, certainly, and 
 
 *See Arnot's Criminal Trials^ 4to ed., p. 335. 
 486 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 497 
 
 just ; for what good impression could be made on the public 
 mind by punishment, when the memory of the offense was 
 obliterated, and all that was remembered was the recent in- 
 offensive, or perhaps exemplary, conduct of the offender ? 
 
 Sir George Staunton might, therefore, tread the scene of 
 his former audacious exploits free from the apprehension 
 of the law, or even of discovery or suspicion. But with 
 what feelings his heart that day throbbed must be left to 
 those of the reader to imagine. It was an object of no com- 
 mon interest which had brought him to encounter so many 
 painful remembrances. 
 
 In consequence of Jcanie's letter to Lady Staunton, trans- 
 mitting the confession, he had visited the town of Carlisle, 
 and had found Archdeacon Fleming still alive, by whom 
 that confession had been received. This reverend gentle- 
 man, whose character stood deservedly very high, he so far 
 admitted into his confidence as to own himself the father of 
 the unfortunate infant which had been spirited away by 
 Madge Wildfire, representing the intrigue as a matter of 
 juvenile extravagance on his own part, for which he was now 
 anxious to atone, by tracing, if possible, what had become 
 of the child. After some recollection of the circumstances, 
 the clergyman was able to call to memory that the unhappy 
 woman had written a letter to *' George Staunton, Esq., 
 younger. Rectory, Willingham, by Grantham " ; that he had 
 forwarded it to the address accordingly, and that it had been 
 returned, with a note from the Reverend Mr. Staunton, Rec- 
 tor of Willingham, saying, he knew no such person as him 
 to whom the letter was addressed. As this had happened 
 just at the time when George had, for the last time, ab- 
 sconded from his father's house to carry off Effie, he was at 
 no loss to account for the cause of the resentment under the 
 influence of Avhich his father had disowned him. This was 
 another instance in which his ungovernable temper had oc 
 casioned his misfortune ; had he remained at Willingham 
 but a few days longer, he would have received Margaret 
 Murdockson's letter, in whicn was exactly described the per- 
 son and haunts of the woman, Annajole Bailzou, to whom 
 she [Madge Wildfire] had parted with the infant. It ap- 
 peared that Meg Murdockson had been induced to make this 
 confession, less from any feelings of contrition, than from 
 the desire of obtaining, through George Staunton or his 
 father's means, protection and support for her dangliter 
 Madge. Her letter to George Staunton said, " That while 
 the writer lived, her daughter would hav« needed nought 
 
498 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 from anybody, and that she would never have meddled in 
 these aifairs, except to pay back the ill that George had 
 done to her and hers. But she was to die, and her daughter 
 would be destitute, and without reason to guide her. She 
 had lived in the world long enough to know that people did 
 nothing for nothing ; so she had told George Staunton all 
 he could wish to know about his wean, in hopes he would 
 not see the demented young creature he had ruined perish 
 for want. As for her motives for not telling them sooner, 
 she had a long account to reckon for in the next world, and 
 she would reckon for that too." 
 
 The clergyman said that Meg had died in the same des- 
 perate state of mind, occasionally expressing some regret 
 about the child which was lost, but oftener sorrow that the 
 mother had not been hanged — her mind at once a chaos of 
 guilt, rage, and apprehension for her daughter's future 
 safety ; that instinctive feeling of- parental anxiety whicb 
 she had in common with the she-wolf and lioness being the 
 last shade of kindly affection that occupied a breast equally 
 savage. 
 
 The melancholy catastrophe of Madge Wildfire was occa- 
 sioned by her taking the confusion of her mother's execution 
 as affording an opportunity of leaving the workhouse to 
 which the clergyman had sent her, and presenting herself to 
 the mob in their fury, to perish in the way we have already 
 seen. When Dr. Fleming found the convict's letter was re- 
 turned from Lincolnshire, he wrote to a friend in Edinburgh, 
 to inquire into the fate of the unfortunate girl whose child 
 nad been stolen, and was informed by his correspondent that 
 she had been pardoned, and that, with all her family, she 
 had retired to some distant part of Scotland, or left the 
 kingdom entirely. And here the matter rested, until, at 
 Sir George Staunton's application, the clergyman looked out 
 and produced Margaret Murdockson's returned letter, and 
 the other memoranda which he had kept concerning the 
 affair. 
 
 Whatever might be Sir George Staunton's feelings in rip- 
 ping up this miserable history, and listening to the tragical 
 fate of the unhappy girl whom he had ruined, he had so 
 much of his ancient wilfulness of disposition left as to shut 
 his eyes on everything save the prospect which seemed to 
 open itself of recovering his son. It was true, it would be 
 difficult to produce him without telling much more of the 
 history of his birth and the misfortunes of his parents than 
 it was prudent to make known. But let him once be found. 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 496 
 
 let him but prove worthy of his father's protection, and 
 many ways might be fallen upon to avoid such risk. Sir 
 George Staunton was at liberty to adopt him as his heir, if 
 he pleased, without communicating the secret of his birth ; 
 or an Act of Parliament might be obtained, declaring him 
 legitimate, and allowing him the name and arms of his 
 father. He was, indeed, already a legitimate child accord- 
 ing to the law of Scotland, by the subsequent marriage of 
 his parents. Wilful in everything. Sir George's sole desire 
 now was to see this son, even should his recovery bring with 
 it a new series of misfortunes as dreadful as those which 
 followed on his being lost. 
 
 But where was the youth who might eventually be called 
 to the honors and estates of this ancient family ? On Avhat 
 heath was he wandering, and shrouded by what mean dis- 
 guise ? Did he gain his precarious bread by some petty 
 trade, by menial toil, by violence, or by theft ? These were 
 questions on which Sir George's anxious investigations could 
 obtain no light. Many remembered that Annaple Bailzou 
 wandered through the country as a beggar and fortune- 
 teller, or spae-wife ; some remembered that she had been 
 seen with an infant in 1737 or 1738, but for more than ten 
 years she had not traveled that district, and that she had 
 been heard to say she was going to a distant part of Scot- 
 land, of which country she was a native. To Scotland, 
 therefore, came Sir George Staunton, having parted with his 
 lady at Glasgow ; and his arrival at Edinburgh happening 
 to coincide with the sitting of the General Assembly of the 
 Kirk, his acquaintance with the nobleman who held the of- 
 fiee of Lord High Commissioner forced him more into pub- 
 lic than suited either his views or inclinations. 
 
 At the public table of this nobleman. Sir George Staunton 
 was placed next to a clergyman of respectable appearance, 
 and well-bred though ^^lain demeanor, whose name he dis- 
 covered to be Butler. It had been no part of Sir George's 
 plan to take his brother-in-law into his confidence, and he had 
 rejoiced exceedingly in the assurances he received from his 
 wife that Mrs. Butler, the very soul of integrity and honor, 
 had never suffered the account he had given of himself at 
 Williugham Eectory to transpire, even to her husband. But 
 he was not sorry to have an opportunity to converse with so 
 near a connection, without being known to him, and to form 
 a judgment of his character and understanding. He saw 
 much, and heard more, to raise Butler very high in his 
 opinion. He found he was generally respected by those of 
 
§00 WA VERLE Y NO VEL8 
 
 his own profession, as well as by the laity who had seats in 
 the Assembly. He had made several public appearances in 
 the Assembly, distinguished by good sense, candor, and 
 ability ; and he was followed and admired as a sound, and 
 at the same time an eloquent, preacher. 
 
 This was all very satisfactory to Sir George Staunton's 
 pride, which had revolted at the idea of his wife's sister be- 
 ing obscurely married. He now began, on the contrary, to 
 think the connection so much better than he expected, that 
 if it should be necessary to acknowledge it, in consequence 
 of the recovery of his son, it would sound well enough that 
 Lady Staunton had a sister who, in the decayed state of the 
 family, had married a Scottish clergyman, high in the opinion 
 of his countrymen, and a leader in the church. 
 
 It was with these feelings that, when the Lord High Com- 
 missioner's company broke up, Sir George Staunton, under 
 pretence of prolonging some inquiries concerning the con- 
 stitution of the Church of Scotland, requested Butler to go 
 home to his lodgings in the Lawnmarket, and drink a cup 
 of coffee. Butler agreed to wait upon him, providing Sir 
 George would permit liim, in passing, to call at a friend's 
 house where he resided, and make his apology for not com- 
 ing to partake her tea. They proceeded up the High 
 Street, entered the Krames, and passed the begging-box, 
 placed to remind those at liberty of the distresses of the 
 poor prisoners. Sir George paused there one instant, and 
 next day a £20 note was found in that receptacle for public 
 charity. 
 
 When he came up to Butler again, he found him with his 
 eye3 fixed on the entrance of the tolbooth, and apparently 
 in deep thought. 
 
 " That seems a very strong door," said Sir George, by way 
 of saying something. 
 
 " it is so, sir," said Butler, turning off and beginning to 
 walk forward, " but it was my misfortune at one time to see 
 it prove greatly too weak." 
 
 At this moment, looking at his companion, he asked him 
 whether he felt himself ill ; and Sir George Staunton ad- 
 mitted that he had been so foolish as to eat ice, which some- 
 times disagreed with him. With kind officiousness, that 
 would not be gainsaid, and ere he could find out where he was 
 going, Butler hurried Sir George into the friend's house, near 
 to the prison, in which he himself had lived since he came 
 to town, being, indeed, no other than that of our old friend 
 Bart<^iHe Saddletree, in which Lady Staunton had served a 
 
TEE HEA ET OF MIDL O THIA N 501 
 
 ihort noviciate as a shop-maid. This recollection rushed on 
 her husband's mind, and the blush of shame Avliich it ex- 
 cited overpowered the sensation of fear which had produced 
 his former paleness. Good Mrs. Saddletree, however, bus- 
 tled about to receive the rich English baronet as the friend 
 of Mr. Butler, and requested an elderly female in a black 
 gown to sit still, in a way which seemed to imply a wish 
 that she would clear the way for her betters. In the mean 
 while, understanding the state of the case, she ran to get 
 some cordial waters, sovereign, of course, in all cases of 
 faintishness whatsoever. During her absence, her visitor, 
 the female in black, made some progress out of the room, and 
 might have left it altogether without particular observation, 
 had she not stumbled at the threshold, so near Sir George 
 Staunton that he, in point of civility, raised her and assisted 
 her to the door. 
 
 " Mrs. Porteous is turned very doited now, puir body," 
 said Mrs. Saddletree, as she returned with her bottle in 
 her hand. " She is no sae auld, but she got a sair back- 
 cast wi' the slaughter o' her husband. Ye had some trouble 
 about that job, Mr. Butler. I think, sir (to Sir George), 
 ye had better drink out the haill glass, for to my een ye 
 look waur than when ye came in." 
 
 And, indeed, he grew as pale as a corpse on recollecting 
 who it was that his arm had so lately supported — the widow 
 whom he had so large a share in making such. 
 
 "It is a prescribed job that case of Porteous now," said 
 old Saddletree, who was confined to his chair by the gout 
 — " clean prescribed and out of date." 
 
 "lam not clear of that, neighbor," said Plumdamas, 
 " for I have heard them say twenty years should rin, and 
 this is but the fifty-ane ; Porteous's mob was in thretty- 
 seven ." 
 
 *' Ye'U no teach me law, I think, neighbor — me that has 
 four gaun pleas, and might hae had fourteen, an it hadna 
 been the gudewife ? I tell ye, if the foremost of the Por- 
 teous mob were standing there where that gentleman stands, 
 tlie King's A-dvocate wadna meddle wi' him : it fa's under 
 the negative prescription." 
 
 " Haud your din, carles," said Mrs Saddletree, "and let 
 the gentleman sit down and get a dish of comfortable tea." 
 
 But Sir George had had quite enough of their conversa- 
 tion ; and Butler, at his request, made an apology to Mrs. 
 Saddletree, and accompanied him to liis lodgings. Her* 
 they found another guest waiting Sir George Staunton's 
 
502 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 return. This was no other than our reader's old acquaint- 
 ance, Ratcliffe. 
 
 This man had exercised the office of turnkey with so 
 much vigilance, acuteuess, and fidelity, that he gradually 
 rose to be governor or captain of the tolbooth. And it is 
 yet remembered in tradition, that young men who rather 
 sought amusing than select society in their merry-meetings 
 used sometimes to request Eatcliffe's company, in order 
 that he might regale them with legends of his extraordinary 
 feats in the way of robbery and escape.* But he lived and 
 died without resuming his original vocation, otherwise than 
 in his narratives over a bottle. 
 
 Under these circumstances, he had been recommended 
 to Sir George Staunton by a man of the law in Edinburgh, 
 as a person likely to answer any questions he might have 
 to ask about Annaple Bailzou, who, according to the color 
 which Sir George Staunton gave to his cause of inquiry, 
 was supposed to have stolen a child in the west of England, 
 belonging to a family in which he was interested. The 
 gentleman had not mentioned his name, but only his offi- 
 cial title ; so that Sir George Staunton, when told that 
 the captain of the tolbooth was waiting for him in his par- 
 lor, had no idea of meeting his former acquaintance, Jem 
 Eatcliffe. 
 
 This, therefore, was another new and most unpleasant 
 surprise, for he had no difficulty in recollecting this man's 
 remarkable features. The change, however, from George 
 Robertson to Sir George Staunton baffled even the pene- 
 tration of Ratcliffe, and he bowed very low to the baronet 
 and his guest, hoping Mr. Butler would excuse his recol- 
 lecting that he was an old acquaintance. 
 
 " And once rendered my wife a piece of great service,'' 
 said Mr. Butler, " for which she sent you a token of grate- 
 ful acknowledgment, which I hope came safe and was 
 "welcome." 
 
 " Deil a doubt on't," said Ratcliffe, with a knowing nod; 
 '' but ye are muckle changed for the better since I saw ye, 
 Maister Butler." 
 
 " So much so, that I wonder you knew me." 
 
 *' Aha, then ! Deil a face I see I ever forget," said Rat- 
 cliffe ; while Sir George Staunton, tied to the stake and 
 incapable of escaping, internally cursed the accuracy of 
 his memory. " And yet, sometimes," continued Ratcliffe, 
 ** the sharpest hand will be taen in. There is a face in this 
 
 * See Ratcliffe. Note 87. 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 503 
 
 very room, if I might presume to be sae bauld, that if 1 
 didna ken the honorable person it belangs to, I might 
 think it liad some cast of an auld acquaintance." 
 
 " I should not be much flattered," answered the Baronet, 
 Bternly, and roused by the risk in which he saw himself 
 placed, •' if it is to me you mean to apply that compliment." 
 
 " By no manner of means, sir," said Katcliffe, bowing very 
 low ', " I am come to receive your honor's commands, and no 
 to trouble your honor wi' my poor observations." 
 
 ''Well, sir, " said Sir George, "lam told yon understand 
 police matters ; so do I ; to convince you of which, here are 
 ten guineas of retaining fee ; I make them fifty when you 
 can find me certain notice of a person, living or dead, whom 
 you will find described in that paper. I shall leave town 
 presently ; you may send your written answer to me to the 
 
 care of Mr. (naming his highly respectable agent), or 
 
 of his Grace the Lord High Commissioner." 
 
 Eatcliffe bowed and withdrew. 
 
 " I have angered the proud peat now," he said to himself, 
 *' by finding out a likeness ; but if George Eobertson's father 
 had lived within a mile of his mother, d — n me if I should 
 not know what to think, for as high as he carries his head." 
 
 When he was left alone with Butler, Sir George Staunton 
 ordered tea and coffee, which were brought by his valet, and 
 then, after considering with himself for a minute, asked his 
 guest whether he had lately heard from his wife and family. 
 
 Butler, with some surprise at the question, replied, " That 
 he had received no letter for some time ; his wife was a poor 
 pen wo man." 
 
 ''Then," said Sir George Staunton, "I am the first to 
 inform you there has been an invasion of your quiet premises 
 since you left home. My wife, whom the Duke of Argyle 
 had the goodness to permit to use Eoseneath Lodge, while 
 she was spending some weeks in your country, has sallied 
 across and taken up her quarters in the manse, as she says, 
 to be nearer the goats, whose milk she is using ; but I be- 
 lieve, in reality, because she prefers Mrs. Butler's company 
 to that of the respectable gentleman who acts as seneschal 
 on the Duke's domains." 
 
 Mr. Butler said, " He had often heard the late Duke and 
 the present speak with high respect of Lady Staunton, and 
 was happy if his house could accommodate any friend of 
 theirs ; it would be but a very slight acknowledgment of 
 the many favors he owed them." 
 
 " That does not make Lady Staunton and myself the less 
 
504 WAVERLET NOVELS 
 
 obliged to yonr hospitality, sir/* said Sir George. ** May I 
 inquire if you think of returning home soon ?" 
 
 "■in the course of two days," Mr. Butler answered, ''his 
 duty in the Assembly would be ended ; and the other matters 
 he had in town being all finished, he was desirous of return- 
 ing to Dunbartonshire as soon as he could ; but he was under 
 the necessity of transporting a considerable sum in bills and 
 money with him, and therefore wished to travel in company 
 with one or two of his brethren of the clergy." 
 
 "My escort will be more safe," said Sir George Staunton, 
 " and 1 think of setting off to-morrow or next day. If you 
 will give me the pleasure of your company, I will undertake 
 to deliver you and your charge safe at the manse, provided 
 you will admit me along with you." 
 
 Mr. Butler gratefully accepted of this proposal ; the ap- 
 pointment was made accordingly, and by despatches with one 
 of Sir George's servants, who was sent forward for the pur- 
 pose, the inhabitants of the manse of Knocktarlitie were made 
 acquainted with the intended journey ; and the news rung 
 through the whole vicinity, " that the minister was coming 
 back wi' a braw English gentleman, and a* the siller that 
 was to pay for the estate of Craigsture." 
 
 This sudden resolution of going to Knocktarlitie had been 
 adopted by Sir George Staunton in consequence of the in- 
 cidents of the evening. In spite of his present consequence, 
 he felt he had presumed too far in venturing so near the 
 scene of his former audacious acts of violence, and he knew 
 too well from past experience the acuteness of a man like 
 Ratcliffe again to encounter him. The next two days he 
 kept his lodgings, under pretense of indisposition, and took 
 leave, by writing, of his noble friend, the High Commissioner, 
 alleging the opportunity of Mr. Butler's company as a reason 
 for leaving Edinburgh sooner than he had proposed. He 
 had a long conference with his agent on the subject of 
 Annaple Bailzou ; and the professional gentleman, who was 
 the agent also of the Argyle family, had directions to collect 
 all the information which Ratcliffe or others might be able 
 to obtain concerning the fate of that woman and the unfor- 
 tunate child, and, so soon as anything transpired which had 
 the least appearance of being important, that he should send 
 an express with it instantly to Knocktarlitie. These instruc- 
 tions were backed with a deposit of money, and a request 
 that no expense might be spared ; so that Sir George Staun- 
 ton had little reason to apprehend negligence on the part of 
 the persons entrusted with the commission. 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 505 
 
 The journey which the brothers made in company was 
 attended with more pleasure, even to !Sir George Staunton, 
 than he had ventured to expect. His heart lightened in 
 spite of himself when they lost sight of Edinburgh ; and the 
 easy, sensible conversation of Butler was well calculated to 
 withdraw his thoughts from painful reflections. He even 
 began to think whether there could be much difficulty in 
 removing his wife's connections to the rectory of Willingham ; 
 it was only on his part procuring some still better prefer- 
 ment for the present incumbent, and on Butler's, that he 
 should take orders according to the English Church, to 
 which he could not conceive a possibility of his making 
 objection, and then he had them residing under his wing. 
 No doubt, there was pain in seeing Mrs. Butler, acquainted, 
 as he knew her to be, with the full truth of his evil history. 
 But then her silence, though he had no reason to complain 
 of her indiscretion hitherto, was still more absolutely en- 
 sured. It would keep his lady, also, both in good temper 
 and in more subjection ; for she was sometimes troublesome 
 to him, by insisting on remaining in town when he desired 
 to retire to the country, alleging the total want of society 
 at Willingham. " Madam, your sister ^is there," would, he 
 thought, be a sufficient answer to this ready argument. 
 
 He sounded Butler on this subject, asking what he would 
 think of an English living of twelve hundred pounds yearly, 
 with the burden of affording his company now and then to 
 a neighbor whose health was not strong, or his spirits equal. 
 " He might meet, 'Mie said, "occasionally, a very learned 
 and accomplished gentleman, who was in orders as a Catholic 
 priest, but he hoped that would be no insurmountable objec- 
 tion to a man of his liberality of sentiment. What," he 
 said, " would Mr. Butler think of as an answer, if the offer 
 should be made to him ? " 
 
 " Simply, that I could not accept of it," said Mr. Butler. 
 " I have no mind to enter into the various debates between 
 the churches ; but I was brought up in mine own, have 
 received her ordination, am satisfied of the truth of her 
 doccrines, and will die under the banner I have enlisted 
 to." 
 
 " What may be the value of your preferment ?" said Sir 
 George Staunton, " unless I am asking an indiscreet 
 question." 
 
 " Probably one hundred a-year, one year with another, 
 besides my glebe and pasture-ground." 
 
 ** And you scruple to exchange that for twelve hundred 
 
506 WAVERLET NOVELS 
 
 a-year, withont alleging any damning difference of doctrine 
 betwixt the two churches of England and Scotland ? " 
 
 " On that, sir, I have reserved my judgment ; there may 
 be much good, and there are certainly saving means, in both, 
 but every man must act according fo his own lights. I 
 hope I have done, and am in the course of doing, my Mas- 
 ter's work in this Highland parish ; and it would ill become 
 me, for the sake of lucre, to leave my sheep in the wilder- 
 ness. But, even in the temporal view which you have taken 
 of the matter. Sir George, this hundred pounds a-year of 
 stipend hath fed and clothed us, and left us nothing to wish 
 for ; my father-in-law's succession, and other circumstances, 
 have added a small estate of about twice as much more, and 
 how we are to dispose of it I do not know. So I leave it to 
 you, sir, to think if I were wise, not having the wish or 
 opportunity of spending tl^ree hundred a year, to covet the 
 possession of four times that sum." 
 
 ** This is philosophy,'' said Sir George; "I have heard 
 of it, but I never saw it before." 
 
 *' It is common sense," replied Butler, "which accords 
 with philosophy and religion more frequently than pedants 
 or zealots are apt to admit." 
 
 Sir George turned the subject, and did not again resume 
 it. Although they travelled in Sir George's chariot, he 
 seemed so much fatigued with the motion, that it was neces- 
 sary for him to remain for a day at a small town called Mid- 
 Calder, which was their first stage from Edinburgh. 
 Glasgow occupied another day, so slow were their mo- 
 tions. 
 
 They travelled on to Dunbarton, where they had resolved 
 to leave the equipage, and to hire a boat to take them to 
 the shores near the manse, as the Gare Loch lay betwixt 
 them and that point, besides the impossibility of traveling 
 in that district with wheel-carriages. Sir George's valet, a 
 man of trust, accompanied them, as also a footman ; the 
 grooms were left with the carriage. Just as this arrange- 
 ment was completed, which was about four o'clock in the 
 afternoon, an express arrived from Sir George's agent in 
 Edinburgh, with a packet, which he opened and read with 
 great attention, appearing much interested and agitated by 
 the contents. The packet had been despatched very soon 
 after their leaving Edinburgh, but the messenger had missed 
 the travelers by passing through Mid-Calder in the night, 
 and overshot his errand by getting to Eoseneath before 
 them. He was now on his return, after having waited more 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 607 
 
 than fonr-and-twenty liours. Sir George Staunton instantly 
 wrote back an answer, and, rewarding the messenger liber- 
 ally, desired him not to sleep till he placed it in his agent's 
 hands. 
 
 At length they embarked in the boat, which had waited 
 for them sometime. During their voyage, which was slow, 
 for they were obliged to row the whole way, and often against 
 the tide. Sir George Staunton's inquiries ran chiefly on the 
 subject of the Highland banditti who had infested that 
 country since the year 1745, Butler informed him that many 
 of them were not native Highlanders, but gipsies, tinkers, and 
 ©ther men of desperate fortunes, who had taken advantage 
 of the confusion introduced by the civil war, the general 
 discontent of the mountaineers, and the unsettled state of 
 police, to practise their plundering trade with more audacity. 
 Sir George next inquired into their lives, their habits, 
 whether the violences wliich they committed were not some- 
 times atoned for by acts of generosity, and whether they 
 did not possess the virtues, as well as the vices, of savage 
 tribes. 
 
 Butler answered, that certainly they did sometimes show 
 sparks of generosity, of which even the worst class of male- 
 factors are seldom utterly divested ; but that their evil pro- 
 pensities were certain and regular principles of action, while 
 any occasional burst of virtuous feeling was only a transient 
 impulse not to be reckoned upon, and excited probably by 
 some singular and unusual concatenation of circumstances. 
 In discussing these inquiries, which Sir George pursued with 
 an apparent eagerness that rather surprised Butler, the 
 latter chanced to mention the name of Donacha Dhu na 
 Diinaigh, with which the reader is already acquainted. Sir 
 George caught the sound up eagerly, and as if it conveyed 
 particular interest to his ear. fie made the most minute in- 
 quiries concerning the man whom he mentioned, the number 
 of his gang, and even the appearance of those who belonged 
 to it. Upon these points Butler could give little answer. 
 The man had a name among the lower class, but his exploits 
 were considerably exaggerated ; he had always one or two 
 fellows with him, but never aspired to the command of above 
 three or four. In short, he knew little about him, and the 
 small acquaintance he had, had by no means inclined him to 
 desire more. 
 
 " Nevertheless, I should like to see him some of these 
 days." 
 
 '* That would be a dangerous meeting. Sir George, unlese 
 
508 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 you mean we are to see liim receive his deserts from the law, 
 and then it were a melancholy one." 
 
 " Use every man according to liis deserts, Mr. Butler, and 
 who shall escape whipping ? But I am talking riddles to 
 you. I will exj)lain them more fully to you when I have 
 spoken over the subject with Lady Staunton. Pull away, my 
 lads," he added, addressing himself to the rowers; **the 
 clouds threaten us with a storm." 
 
 In fact, the dead and heavy closeness of the air, the huge 
 piles of clouds which assembled in the western horizon, and 
 glowed like a furnace under the influence of the setting sun, 
 that awful stillness in which nature seems to expect the 
 thunderburst, as a condemned soldier waits for the platoon- 
 fire which is to stretch him on the earth — all betokened a 
 speedy storm. Large broad drops fell from time to time, 
 and induced the gentlemen to assume the boat-cloaks; but 
 the rain again ceased, and the oppressive heat, so unusual 
 in Scotland in the end of May, inclined them to throw them 
 aside. ''There is something solemn in this delay of the 
 storm,*' said Sir George ; " it seems as if it suspended its 
 peal till it solemnized some important event in the world 
 below." 
 
 "Alas !" replied Butler, " what are we, that the laws of 
 nature should correspond in their march with our ephemeral 
 deeds or sufferings ? The clouds will burst when surcharged 
 with the electric fluid, whether a goat is falling at that in- 
 stant from the cliffs of Arran or a hero expiring on the field 
 of battle he has won." 
 
 "The mind delights to deem it otherwise," said Sir George 
 Staunton ; " and to dwell on the fate of humanity as on that 
 which is the prime central movement of the mighty machine. 
 We love not to think that we shall mix with the ages that 
 have gone before us, as these broad black raindrops mingle 
 with the waste of waters, making a trifling and momentary 
 eddy, and are then lost forever." 
 
 '•' Forever ! We are not — we cannot be lost forever," said 
 Butler, looking upward ; *' death is to us change, not con- 
 summation, and the commencement of a new existence, cor- 
 responding in character to the deeds which we have done in 
 the body." 
 
 While they agitated these grave subjects, to which the 
 solemnity of the approaching storm naturally led them, their 
 voyage threatened to be more tedious than they expected, for 
 gusts of wind, which rose and fell with sudden impetuosity, 
 swept the bosom of the firth, and impeded the efforts of the 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 509 
 
 rowers. ^They had now only to double a small headland in 
 order to get to the proper landing-place in the mouth of the 
 little river ; but in the state of the weatlier, and the boat 
 being heavy, this was like to be a work of time, and in the 
 mean while they must necessarily be exposed to the storm. 
 
 " Could we not land on this side of the headland," asked 
 Sir George, " and so gain some shelter ? " 
 
 Butler knew of no landing-place, at least none affording a 
 convenient or even practicable passage up the rocks which 
 surrounded the shore. 
 
 "Think again,'^ said Sir George Staunton; *'the storm 
 will soon be violent." 
 
 " Hout, ay," said one of the boatmen, " there's the Caird's 
 Cove ; but we dinna tell the minister about it, and I am no 
 sure if I can steer the boat to it, the bay is sae fu' o' shoals 
 and sunk rocks." 
 
 "Try," said Sir George, " and I will give you half-a- 
 guinea." 
 
 The old fellow took the helm, and observed, "That if 
 they could get in, there was a steep path up from the beach, 
 and half an hour's walk from thence to the manse." 
 
 "Are you sure you know the way ?" said Butler to the 
 old man. 
 
 " I maybe kenn'd it a wee better fifteen years syne, when 
 Dandie Wilson was in the firth wi' his clean-gauging lugger. 
 I mind Dandie had a wild young Englisher wi' him, that 
 they ca'd " 
 
 " If you chatter so much," said Sir George Staunton, 
 " you will have the boat on the Grindstone ; bring that white 
 rock in a line with the steeple." 
 
 " By G — ," said the venteran, staring, " I think your 
 honor kens the bay as weel as me. Your hoiioi"'s nose has 
 been on the Grindstane ere now, I'm thinking." 
 
 As they spoke thus, they approached the little cove, which, 
 concealed behind crags, and defended on every point by 
 shallows and sunken rocks, could scarce be discovered or ap- 
 proached, except by those intimate with the navigation. An 
 old shattered boat was already drawn up on the beach within 
 the cove, close beneath the trees, and with precautions for 
 concealment. 
 
 Upon observing this vessel, Butler remarked to his com- 
 panion, " It is impossible for you to conceive. Sir George, the 
 difficulty I have had with my poor people, in teaching them 
 the guilt and the danger of this contraband trade ; yet they 
 have perpetually before their eyes all its dangerous con- 
 
510 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 sequences. I do not know anything that more effectually 
 depraves and ruins their moral and religious principles." 
 
 Sir George forced himself to say something in a low voice, 
 about the spirit of adventure natural to youth, and that un- 
 questionably many would become wiser as they grew older. 
 
 " Too seldom, sir," replied Butler. " If they have been 
 deeply engaged, and especially if they have mingled in the 
 scenes of violence and blood to which their occupation 
 naturally leads, I have observed that, sooner or later, they 
 come to an evil end. Experience, as well as Scripture, 
 teaches us, Sir George, that mischief shall hunt the violent 
 man, and that the blood thirsty man shall not live half hia 
 days. But take my arm to help you ashore." 
 
 Sir George needed assistance, for he was contrasting in his 
 altered thought the different feelings of mind and frame 
 with which he had formerly frequented the same place. As 
 they landed, a low growl of thunder was heard at a dis- 
 tance. 
 
 " That is ominous, Mr, Butler," said Sir George. 
 
 " Intonuit loevum : it is ominous of good, then," answered 
 Butler, smiling. 
 
 The boatmen were ordered to make the best of their way 
 round the headland to the ordinary landing-place ; the two 
 gentlemen, followed by their servant, sought their way by a 
 blind and tangled jjath, through a close copsewood, to the 
 manse of Knocktarlitie, where their arrival was anxiously 
 expected. 
 
 The sisters in vain had expected their husbands' return on 
 the preceding day, which was that appointed by Sir George's 
 letter. The delay of the travelers at Calder had occasioned 
 this breach of appointment. The inhabitants of the manse 
 began even to doubt whether they would arrive on the pres- 
 ent day. Lady Staunton felt this hope of delay as a brief 
 reprieve ; for she dreaded the pangs which her husband's 
 pride must undergo at meeting with a sister-in-iaw to whom 
 the whole of his unhappy and dishonorable history was too 
 well known. She knew, whatever force or constraint he 
 might put upon his feelings in public, that she herself must 
 be doomed to see them display themselves in full vehemence in 
 secret — consume his health, destroy his temper, and render 
 him at once an object of dread and compassion. Again and 
 again she cautioned Jeanie to display no tokens of recogni- 
 tion, but to receive him as a perfect stranger, and again and 
 again Jeanie renewed her promise to comply with her wishes. 
 
THE HEART GF MIDLOTHIAN 611 
 
 Jeanie herself could not fail to bestow an anxious thought 
 on the awkwardness of the approaching meeting ; but her 
 conscience was ungalled, and then she was cumbered with 
 many household cares of an unusual nature, which, joined 
 to the anxious wish once more to see Butler, after an absence 
 of unusual length, made her extremely desirous that the 
 travelers should arrive as soon as possible. And — why should 
 I disguise the truth ? — ever and anon a thought stole across 
 her mind that her gala dinner had now been postponed for 
 two days ; and how few of the dishes, after every art of her 
 simple cuisine had been exerted to dress them, could with 
 any credit or propriety appear again upon the third ; and 
 what was she to do with the rest ? Upon this last subject 
 she was saved the trouble of farther deliberation, by the sud- 
 den appearance of the Captain at the head of half a dozen 
 stout fellows, dressed and armed in the Highland fashion. 
 
 " Goot-morrow morning to ye, Leddy Staunton, and I hope 
 I hae the pleasure to see ye weel ? And goot-morrow to you, 
 goot Mrs. Putler ; I do peg you will order some victuals and 
 ale and prandy for the lads, for we hae peen out on firth and 
 moor since afore daylight, and a* to no purpose neither — 
 Cot tam ! " 
 
 So saying, he sate down, pushed back his brigadier wig, 
 and wiped his head with an air of easy importance, totally 
 regardless of the look of well-bred astonishment by which 
 Lady Staunton endeavored to make him comprehend that he 
 was assuming too great a liberty. 
 
 ''It is some comfort, when one has had a sair tussle," con- 
 tinued the Captain, acldressing Lady Staunton, with an air 
 of gallantry, "that it is in a fair leddy's service, or in the 
 service of a gentleman whilk has a fair leddy, whilk is the 
 same thing, since serving the husband is serving the wife, as 
 Mrs. Putler does very weel know.'^ 
 
 " Really, sir,'* said Lady Staunton, *'as you seem to in- 
 tend this compliment for me, I am at a loss to know what 
 interest Sir George or I can have in your movements this 
 morning." 
 
 *' Cot tam ! this is too cruel, my leddy ; as if it was not 
 py special express from his Grace's honorable agent and com- 
 missioner at Edinburgh, with a warrant conform, that I was 
 to seek for and apprehend Donacha Dhu na Dunaigh, and 
 pring him pefore myself and Sir George Staunton, that he 
 may have his deserts, that is to say, the gallows, whilk he 
 has doubtless deserved, py peing the means of frightening 
 your leddyship, as weel as for something of less importance." 
 
512 WAVE RLE Y NOVELS 
 
 " Frightening me ! " said her ladyship. " Why, I nevei 
 wrote to Sir George about my alarm at the waterfall." 
 
 " Then he must have heard it otherwise ; for what else 
 can give him sic an earnest tesire to see this rapscallion, that 
 I maun rip the liaill mosses and muirs in the country for 
 him, as if I were to get something for finding him, when the 
 pest o't might pe a pall through my prains ? " 
 
 " Can it be really true that it is on Sir George's account 
 that you have been attempting to apprehend this fellow ? " 
 
 "Py Cot, it is for no other cause that I know than his 
 honor's pleasure ; for the creature might hae gone on in a 
 decent quiet way for me, sae lang as he respectit the Duke's 
 pounds ; put reason goot he suld be taen, and hangit to poot, 
 if it may pleasure ony honorable shentleman that is the 
 Duke's friend. Sae I got the express over night, and I 
 caused warn half a score of pretty lads and was up in the 
 morning pef ore the sun, an' I garr'd the lads take their kilts 
 and short coats." 
 
 " I wonder you did that, Captain," said Mrs. Butler, 
 " when you know the Act of Parliament against wearing the 
 Highland dress." 
 
 " Hout, tout, ne'er fasli your thumb, Mrs. Putler. The 
 law is put twa-tliree years auld yet, and is ower young to hae 
 come our length ; and besides, how is the lads to climb the 
 praes wi' thae tamn'd breekens on them ? It makes me sick 
 to see them. Put ony how, I thought I kenn'd Donacha's 
 haunts gay and weel, and I was at the place where he had 
 rested yestreen ; for I saw the leaves the limmers had lain 
 on. and tlie ashes of them ; by the same token, there was a 
 pit greeshoch purning yet. I am thinking they got some 
 word out o' the island what was intended. I sought every 
 glen and clench, as if I had been deer-stalking, but teil a 
 wauff of his coat-tail could I see — Cot tam ! " 
 
 " He'll be away down the firth to Cowall," said David ; 
 and Reuben, who had been out early that morning a-nutting, 
 observed, " That he had seen a boat making for the Caird's 
 Cove " ; a place well known to the boys, though their less 
 adventurous father was ignorant of its existence. 
 
 " Py Cot," said Duncan, '"' then I will stay here no longer 
 than to trink this very horn of prandy and water, for it is 
 very possible they will pe in the wood. Donacha's a clever 
 fellow, and maype thinks it pest to sit next the chimley when 
 the lum reeks. He thought naebody would look for him 
 sae near hand ! I peg your leddyship will excuse my aprupt 
 departure, as I will return forthwith, and I will either priug 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 618 
 
 on Donacha in life or else his head, whilk I dare to say will 
 e as satisfactory. And I hope to pass a pleasant evening 
 with your leddyship ; and I hope to have mine revenges on 
 Mr. Putler at packgammon, for the four pennies whilk lie 
 won, for he will be surely at home soon, or else he will have 
 a wet journey, seeing it is apout to pe a scud." 
 
 Thus saying, with many scrapes and bows, and apologies 
 for leaving them, which were very readily received, and 
 reiterated assurances of his speedy return, of tlie sincerity 
 whereof Mrs. Butler entertained no doubt, so long as her 
 best graybeard of brandy was upon duty, Duncan left the 
 manse, collected his followers, and began to scour the close 
 and entangled wood which lay between the little glen and 
 the Caird's Cove. David, who was a favorite with the Cap- 
 tain, on account of his spirit and courage, took the oppor- 
 tunity of escaping to attend the investigation of that great 
 man. 
 
 3i 
 
OHAPTER m 
 
 I did send for thee, 
 
 That Talbot's name might be in thee reAdved, 
 When sapless age and weak unable limbs 
 Should bring thy father to his drooping chair. 
 But — O malignant and ill-boding stars I — 
 
 Henrt/ VI. Parti. 
 
 DuNCAN" and his party had not proceeded very far in the 
 direction of the Caird's Cove before they heard a shot, which 
 was quickly followed by one or two others. " Some tamn'd 
 villains among the roe-deer," said Duncan ; ''look sharp 
 out, lads." 
 
 The clash of swords was next heard, and Duncan and his 
 myrmidons, hastening to the spot, found Butler and Sir 
 George Staunton's servant in the hands of four ruffians. 
 Sir George himself lay stretched on the ground, with his 
 drawn sword in his hand. Duncan, who was as brave as a 
 lion, instantly fired his pistol at the leader of the band, 
 unsheathed his sword, cried out to his men, " Claymore I" 
 and run his weapon through the body of the fellow whom 
 he had previously wounded, who was no other than Don- 
 acha Dhu na Dunaigh himself. The other banditti were 
 speedily overpowered, excepting one young lad, who made 
 wonderful resistance for his years, and was at length secured 
 with difficulty. 
 
 Butler, so soon as he was Kberated from the ruffians, ran 
 to raise Sir George Staunton ; but life had wholly left him. 
 
 " A great misfortune," said Duncan ; ''I think it will 
 pe pest that I go forward to intimate it to the coot leddy. 
 Tavie, my dear, you hae smelled pouther for the first time 
 this day. Take my sword and Jiack off Donacha's head, 
 whilk will pe coot practise for you against the time yon 
 may wish to do the same kindness to a living shentleman ; 
 or hould, as your father does not approve, you may leave 
 it alone, as he will pe a greater object of satisfaction to 
 Leddy Staunton to see him entire ; and I hope she will do 
 me the credit to pelieve that I can af enge a shentleman's 
 plood fery speedily and well." 
 
 Such was the observation of a man too much accustomed 
 
 514 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 616 
 
 to the ancient state of manners in the Highlands to look 
 upon the issue of such a skirmish as anything worthy of 
 wonder or emotion. 
 
 We will not attempt to describe the very contrary effect 
 which the unexpected disaster produced upon Lady Staun- 
 ton, when the bloody corpse of her husband was brought to 
 the house, where she expected to meet him alive and well. 
 All was forgotten but that he was the lover of her youth ; 
 and, whatever were his faults to the world, that he had 
 towards her exhibited only those that arose from the in- 
 equality of spirits and temper incident to a situation of un- 
 paralleled difficulty. In the vivacity of her grief she gave 
 way to all the natural irritability of her temper ; shriek fol- 
 lowed shriek, and swoon succeeded to swoon. It required 
 all Jeanie's watchful affection to prevent her from making 
 known, in these paroxysms of affliction, much which it wag 
 of the highest importance that she should keep secret. 
 
 At length silence and exhaustion succeeded to frenzy, 
 and Jeanie stole out to take counsel with her husband, and 
 to exhort him to anticipate the Captain^s interference by 
 taking possession in Lady Staunton^s name of the private 
 papers of her deceased husband. To the utter astonish- 
 ment of Butler, she now for the first time explained the 
 relation betwixt herself and Lady Staunton, which author- 
 ized, nay, demanded, that he should prevent any stranger 
 from being unnecessarily made acquainted with her family 
 affairs. It was in such a crisis that Jeanie's active and 
 undaunted habits of virtuous exertion were most conspic- 
 uous. "While the Captain's attention was still engaged by 
 a prolonged refreshment, and a very tedious examination, 
 in Gaelic and English, of all the prisoners, and every 
 other witness of the fatal transaction, she had tlie body 
 of her brother-in-law undressed and properly disposed. It 
 then appeared, from the crucifix, the beads, and the shirt 
 of hair which he wore next his person, that his sense of 
 guilt had induced him to receive the dogmata of a reli- 
 gion which pretends, by the maceration of the body, to 
 expiate the crimes of the soul. In the packet of papers 
 which the express had brought to Sir George Staunton 
 from Edinburgh, and which Butler, authorized by his con- 
 nection with the deceased, did not scruple to examine, he 
 found new and astonishing intelligence, which gave him 
 reason to thank God he had taken that measure. 
 
 Eatcliffe, to whom all sorts of misdeeds and misdoers 
 wwe familiar, instigated by the promised reward, soon 
 
516 WAVERLEY JSiOVELS 
 
 fonnd himself in a condition to trace tlie infant of these 
 unhappy parents. The woman to whom Meg Murdockson 
 had sold that most unfortunate child had made it the 
 companion of her wanderings and her beggary until he 
 was about seven or eight years old, when, as Eatcliffe 
 learned from a companion of hers, then in the correction- 
 house of Edinburgh, she sold him in her turn to Donacha 
 Dhu na Dunaigh. This man, to whom no act of mischief 
 was unknown, was occasionally an agent in a horrible 
 trade then carried on betwixt Scotland and America, for 
 supplying the plantations with servants, by means of kid- 
 napping, as it was termed, both men and women, but 
 especially children under age. Here Eatcliffe lost sight 
 of the boy, but had no doubt but Donacha Dhu could 
 give an account of him. The gentleman of the law, so often 
 mentioned, despatched therefore an express with a letter to 
 Sir George Staunton, and another covering a warrant for 
 apprehension of Donacha, with instructions to the Captain of 
 Knockdunder to exert his utmost energy for that purpose. 
 
 Possessed of this information, and with a mind agitated 
 by the most gloomy apprehensions, Butler now joined the 
 Captain, and obtained from him with some difficulty a sight 
 of the examinations. These, with a few questions to the 
 elder of the prisoners, soon confirmed the most dreadful of 
 Butler's anticipations. We give the heads of the informa- 
 tion, without descending into minute details. 
 
 Donacha Dhu had indeed purchased Effie's unhappy 
 child, with the purpose of selling it to the American trad- 
 ers, whom he had been in the habit of supplying with 
 human flesh. But no opportunity occurred for some time ; 
 and the boy, who was known by the name of " The 
 "Whistler," made some impression on the heart and affections 
 even of this rude savage, perhaps because he saw in him 
 flashes of a spirit as fierce and vindictive as his own. When 
 Donacha struck or threatened him — a very common occur- 
 rence — he did not answer with complaints and entreaties 
 like other children, but with oaths and efforts at revenge ; 
 he had all the wild merit, too, by which Woggarwolie's 
 arrow-bearing page won the hard heart of his master : 
 
 Like a wild cub, rear'd at the ruffian's feet, 
 He could say biting jests, bold ditties sing, 
 And quaff his foaming bumper at the board, 
 With all the mockery of a little man.* 
 ^ ■■ ■ I 
 
 * EthwaM. 
 
THE HE A R T O F MIDLO TUIA N 517 
 
 In short, as Doiiaclui Dim siiid, the Whistler was a born 
 imp of Satan, and therefore he should never leave him. 
 Accordingly, from his eleventh year forward, he was one of 
 the band, and often engaged in acts of violence. 'The last 
 of these was more immediately occasioned by the researches 
 which the Whistler's real father made after him whom he 
 had been taught to consider as such. Donacha Dhu'sfears 
 had been for some time excited by the strength of the 
 means which began now to be emj)loyed against i)ersons of 
 his description. He was sensible he existed only by the 
 precarious indulgence of his namesake, Duncan of Knock- 
 dunder, who was used to boast that he could put him down 
 or string him up when he had a mind. He resolved to 
 leave the kingdom by means of one of those sloops which 
 were engaged in the traffic of his •Id kidnapping friends, 
 and which was about to sail for America ; but he was desir- 
 ous first to strike a bold stroke. 
 
 The ruffian's cupidity was excited by the intelligence that 
 a wealthy Englishman was coming to the manse. He had 
 neither forgotten the Whistler's report of the gold he had 
 seen in Lady Staunton's purse, nor his old vow of revenge 
 against the minister ; and, to bring the whole to a point, 
 he conceived the hope of appropriating the money which, 
 according to the general report of the country, the minis- 
 ter was to bring from Edinburgh to pay for his new pur- 
 chase. While he was considering how he might best ac- 
 complish his purpose, he received the intelligence from one 
 quarter that the vessel in which he proposed to sail was to 
 sail immediately from Greenock ; from another, that the 
 minister and a rich English lord, with a great many thou- 
 sand pounds, were expected the next evening at the manse ; 
 and from a third, that he must consult his safety by leav- 
 ing his ordinary haunts as soon as possible, for that the 
 Captain had ordered out a party to scour the glens for him 
 at break of day. Donacha laid his plans with promptitude 
 and decision. He embarked with the Whistler and two 
 others of his band (whom, by the by, he meant to sell to the 
 kidnappers), and set sail for the Caird's Cove. He intended 
 to lurk till nightfall in the wood adjoining to this place, 
 which he thought was too near the habitation of men to 
 excite the suspicion of Duncan Knock, then break into 
 Butler's peaceful habitation, and flesh at once his appetite 
 for plunder and revenge. When his villainy was accom- 
 plished, his boat was to convey him to the vessel, which, 
 according to previous agreement with the master, was in* 
 stantlj to set sail. 
 
518 WA VERLE Y NO VELS 
 
 This desperate design would probably have suceeeded, 
 but for the ruffians being discovered in their lurking-place 
 by Sir George Staunton and Butier, in their accidental walk 
 from the Caird's Cove towards the manse. Finding him- 
 self detected, and at the same time observing that the ser- 
 vant carried a casket, or strong-box, Donacha conceived that 
 both his prize and his victims were within his power, and 
 attacked the travelers without hesitation. Shots were fired 
 and swords drawn on both sides ; Sir George Staunton 
 offered the bravest resistance, till he fell, iis there was too 
 much reason to believe, by the hand of a son so long sought, 
 and now at length so unhappily met. 
 
 While Butler was half-stunned with this intelligence, the 
 hoarse voice of Knockdunder added to his consternation — 
 "I will take the liperty to take down the pelJ-ropes, Mr. 
 Putler, as I must pe taking order to hang these idle people 
 np to-morrow morning, to teach them more consideration 
 m their doings in future." 
 
 Butler entreated him to remember the act abolishing the 
 heritable jurisdictions, and that he ought to send them to 
 Glasgow or Inverary, to be tried by the circuit. 
 
 Duncan scorned the proposal. 
 
 " The Jurisdiction Act," he said, " had nothing to do 
 put with the rebels, and specially not with Argyle's country : 
 and he would hang the men up all three in one row before 
 coot Leddy Staunton's windows, which would be a creat 
 comfort to her in the morning to see that the coot gentle- 
 man, her husband, had been suitably afenged." 
 
 And the utmost length that Butler's most earnest en- 
 treaties could prevail was, that he would reserve " the twa 
 pig carles for the circuit, but as for him they ca'd the Fust- 
 ier, he should try how he could fustle in a swinging tow. 
 for it suldna be said that a shentleman, friend to the Duke, 
 was killed in his country, and his people didna take at least 
 twa lives for ane." 
 
 Butler entreated him to spare the victim for his soul's 
 sake. But Knockdunder answered, "That the soul of such 
 a scum had been long the tefil's property, and that. Cot 
 tarn ! he was determined to gif the tefil his due." 
 
 All persuasion was in vain, and Duncan issued his man- 
 date for execution on the succeeding morning. The child 
 of guilt and misery was separated from his companions, 
 strongly pinioned, and committed to a separate room, of 
 which the Captain kept the key. 
 
 In the silence of the night, however, Mrs. Butler arose, 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 819 
 
 resolved, if possible, to avert, at least to delay, the fate which 
 hung over her nephew, especially if, upon conversing with 
 him. she should see any hope of his being brought to better 
 temper. She had a master-key that opened every lock 
 in the house ; and at midnight, when all was still, sht 
 stood before the eyes of the astonished young savage, as, 
 hard bound with cords, he lay, like a sheep designed for 
 slaughter, upon a quantity of the refuse of flax which filled 
 a corner in the apartment. Amid features sun-burned, tawnj, 
 grimed with dirt, and obscured by his shaggy hair of a 
 rusted black color, Jeanie tried in vain to trace the likeness 
 of either of his very handsome parents. Yet how could she 
 refuse compassion to a creature so young and so wretched — 
 so much more wretched than even he himself could be aware 
 of, since the murder he had too probably committed with 
 his own hand, but in which he had at any rate participated, 
 was in fact a parricide. She placed food on a table near 
 him, raised him, and slacked the cords on his arms, so as to 
 permit him to feed himself. He stretched out his hands, 
 still smeared with blood, perhaps that of his father, and he 
 ate voraciously and in silence. 
 
 " What is your first name ?" said Jeanie, by way of open- 
 ing the conversation. 
 
 " The Whistler." 
 
 " But your Christian name, by which you were bap- 
 tized ? " 
 
 " I never was baptized that I know of. I have no other 
 name than the Whistler." 
 
 " Poor unhappy abandoned lad \" said Jeanie, ''What 
 would ye do if you could escape from this place, and the 
 death you are to die to-morrow morning ? " 
 
 "Join wi' Rob Roy, or wi' Sergeant More Cameron (noted 
 freebooters at that time), and revenge Donacha's death on 
 all and sundry." 
 
 '* 0, ye unhappy boy," said Jeanie, "do ye ken what will 
 come o' ye when ye die ?" 
 
 " I shall neither feel cauld nor hunger more," said the 
 youth, doggedly. 
 
 " To let him be executed in this dreadful state of mind 
 would be to destroy baith body and soul, and to let him gang 
 I dare not ; what will be done ? But he is my sister's son — 
 my own nephew — our flesh and blood ; and his hands and 
 feet are yerked as tight as cords can be drawn. Whistler, 
 do the cords hurt you V* 
 
 " Very much," 
 
520 WAVERLET novels: 
 
 ''But, if I were to slacken them, 3^011 would harm me ?" 
 " No, I would not ; you never harmed me or raine." 
 " There may be good in him yet," thought Jeanie ; " I 
 will try fair j)lay with him." 
 
 She cut his bonds. He stood upright, looked round with 
 a laugh of wild exultation, clapped his hands together, and 
 sprung from the ground, as if in transport on finding him- 
 self at liberty. He looked so wild that Jeanie trembled at 
 what she had done. 
 
 " Let me out," said the young savage. 
 
 "I wunna, unless you promise " 
 
 " Then I'll make you glad to let us both out.** 
 He seized the lighted candle and threw it among the flax, 
 which was instantly in a flame. Jeanie screamed, and ran 
 out of the room ; the prisoner rushed past her, threw open 
 a window in the passage, jumiDcd into the garden, sprung 
 over its enclosure, bounded through the woods like a deer, 
 and gained the seashore. Meantime, the fire was extin- 
 guished ; but the prisoner was sought in vain. As Jeanie 
 kept her own secret, the share she had in his escape was not 
 discovered ; but they learned his fate some time afterwards ; 
 it was as wild as his life had hitherto been. 
 
 The anxious inquiries of Butler at length learned that the 
 youth had gained the ship in which his master, Donacha, 
 had designed to embark. "iB>ui the avaricious shipmaster, 
 enured by his evil trade to every species of treachery, and 
 disappointed of the rich booty which Donacha had proposed 
 to bring aboard, secured the person of the fugitive, and 
 having transported him to America, sold him as a slave, or 
 indented servant, to a A^irginian planter far up the country. 
 When these tidings reached Butler, lie sent over to America 
 a sufiicient sum to redeem the lad from slavery, with in- 
 structions that measures should be taken for improving his 
 mind, restraining his evil propensities, and encouraging 
 whatever good might appear in his character. But this aid 
 came too late. The young man had headed a conspiracy in 
 which his inhuman master was put to death, and had then 
 fled to the next tribe of wild Indians. He was never more 
 heard of ; and it may therefore be presumed that he lived 
 and died after the manner of that savage people, with whom 
 his previous habits had well fitted him to associateX 
 
 All hopes of the young man's reformation being now 
 ended, Mr. and Mrs. Butler thought it could serve no pur- 
 pose to explain to Lady Staunton a history so full of horror. 
 She remained their guest more than a year, during the 
 
THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN 521 
 
 greater part of which period her grief was excessive. In the 
 latter mouths, it assumed the appearance of listlessness and 
 low spirits, which the monotony of her sister's qniet estab- 
 lishment afforded no means of dissipating. Ettie, from her 
 earliest youth, was never formed for a quiet low content. 
 Far different from her sister, she required the dissipation of 
 society to divert her sorrow or enhance her joy. She left 
 the seclusion of Knocktarlitie with tears of sincere affection, 
 and after heaping its inmates with all she could think of 
 that might be valuable in their eyes. But she did leave it ; 
 and when the anguish of the parting was over her departure 
 was relief to both sisters. 
 
 The family at the manse of Knocktarlitie, in their own 
 quiet happiness, heard of the well-dowered and beautiful 
 Lady Staunton resuming her place in the fashionable world. 
 They learned it by more substantial proof, for David received 
 a commission ; and as the military spirit of Bible Butler 
 seemed to have revived in him, his good behavior qualified 
 the envy of five hundred young Highland cadets, " come of 
 good houses," who were astonished at the rapidity of his 
 promotion. Reuben followed the law, and rose more slowly, 
 yet surely. Euphemia Butler, whose fortune, augmented 
 by her aunt's generosity, and added to her own beauty, ren- 
 dered her no small prize, married a Highland laird, who 
 never asked the name of her grandfather, and was loaded on 
 the occasion with presents from Lady Staunton, which made 
 her the envy of all the beauties of Dunbarton and Argyle- 
 shires. 
 
 After blazing nearly ten years in the fashionable world, 
 and hiding, like many of her compeers, an aching heart witK 
 a gay demeanor, after declining repeated offers of the 
 most respectable kind for a second matrimonial engagement. 
 Lady Staunton betrayed the inward wound by retiring to 
 the Continent and taking up her abode in the convent where 
 she had received her education. She never took the veil, 
 but lived and died in severe seclusion, and in the practise oJf 
 the Roman Catholic religion, in all its formal observances, 
 vigils, and austerities. 
 
 Jeanie had so much of her father's spirit as to sorrow 
 bitterly for this apostacy, and Butler joined in the regret. 
 " Yet any religion, however imperfect," he said, " was better 
 than cold scepticism, or the hurrying din of dissipation, 
 which fills the ears of the worldlings, until they care for 
 none of these things." 
 
 Meanwhile, happy in each other, in the prosperity of theii 
 
522 WAVER LEY NOVELS 
 
 family, and the love and honor of all who knew them, this 
 simple pair lived beloved and died lamented. 
 
 Eeader — This tale will not be told in vain, if it shall be 
 found to illustrate the great truth that guilt^ thoug'h it may 
 a ttain temporal sp lf^nd^^r. can never confer real happiness ; 
 "that the evil consequences of our crimes long survive their 
 commission, and, like the ghosts of the murdered, forever 
 haunt the steps of the malefactor ; and that the paths of 
 virtue, though seldom those of worldly greatness, are always 
 those of pleasantness and peace. 
 
 L' Envoy, hy Jedediah Cleishbotham 
 
 Thus concludeth the Tale of The Heart of Midlothian, 
 which hath filled more pages than I opined. The Heart of 
 Midlothian is now no more, or rather it is transferred to the 
 extreme side of the city, even as the Sieur Jean Baptiste 
 hath it, in his pleasant comedy called Le Medecin Malgre 
 lui, where the simulated doctor wittily replieth to a charge, 
 Poquelin that he had placed the heart on the right side instead 
 of the left, " Cela etoit autrefois ainsi, mais noiis avons 
 change tout cela." Of which witty speech, if any reader shall 
 demand the purport, I have only to respond, that I teach 
 the French as well as the classical tongues, at the easy rate of 
 five shillings per quarter, as my advertisements are periodi- 
 cally making known to the public. 
 
NOTES TO THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN. 
 
 NOTE 1.— TOMBSTONE TO HELEN WALKER, p. XI. 
 
 On Helen Walker's tombstone in Irongray churchyard, Dumfries- 
 shire, there Is engraved the following epitapYi, written by Sir Walter 
 Scott:— 
 
 THIS STONEf WAS ERECTED 
 
 BY THE AUTHOR OP WAVBR'LET 
 
 TO THE MEMORY 
 
 OF 
 
 HELEN WALKER, 
 
 WHO DIED IN THE YE.\R OF GOD 1791. 
 
 This humble individual practised in real Lire 
 
 THE virtues 
 
 WITH which fiction HAS INVESTED 
 
 THE IMAGIN.\,RY CHARACTER OP 
 
 JEANIE DEANS; 
 REFUSING THE SLIGHTEST DEPARTURE 
 
 FROM VHRAjCITY, 
 EVEN TO S.A.VE THE LIFE OF A SISTER, 
 SHE NEVERTHELESS SHOWED HE(R 
 KINDNEIS'S AND FORTITUDE, 
 m RESCUING HER FROM THE SBVEIRITY OF THE LAW 
 AT THE EXPENSE OF PERSONAL EXERTIONS 
 i WHICH THE TIME RENDERED AS DIFFICULrT 
 
 / AS THE MOTIVE WAS LAUDABLE. 
 
 ! RESPECT THE GRAVE OP POVERTY 
 
 WHEN COMBINED WITH LOVE OF TRUTH 
 AND DEAR AFFEfCTION. 
 
 Erected October 1S31. CL«lBg.) 
 
 NOTE 3.— SIR WALKER SCOTT'S REILATIONS WITH THE QUAKERS, p. XVn. 
 
 It Is 341 old proverb that 'many a true word Is spoken in jest. 
 The existence of Walter Sco'tt, third son of Sir William Scott of Har- 
 den, is inetructed, as it is caJled, by a charter under the great seal, 
 'Doirino Wilkielmo Scott de Harden militi, et Waltero Scott suo filio 
 
 623 
 
524 WAVE RLE T NOVELS 
 
 legitimo tertio genito, terarum de Roberton.'* The munificent old 
 gentleman left all ihis four sons considerable estates, and settled those 
 of Eildrig- and Raeburn, together with valuable possessions around 
 Lessudden, upon Walter, his third son, who is ancestor of the Scots 
 of Raeburn, and of the Author of VVaveriey. He appears to have 
 become a convert to the doctrine of the Quakers, or Friends, and a 
 great assertor of their peculiar tenets. This wais proh'ably at the time 
 when Geoirge Fox, .che celebrated apostle of the sect, made an expedi- 
 tion into the south of Scotland about 1657, on which occasion he boasts 
 that 'as he firsit set his horse's feet upon Scottish ground he felt the 
 seed of grace to sparkle about him like innumerable sparks of fire.' 
 Upon the same occasion, probably. Sir Gideon Scott of Higthchesters, 
 second son of Sir William, immediate elder bro^ther of Walter, and 
 ancestor of the Author's friend and kinsman, the present represemta- 
 'tive of the family of Harden, also embraced the tenets of Quakerism. 
 This last convert, Gideon, entered into a controversy with the Rev. 
 James Kirkton, author of the Searet and True History of the Ohurch 
 of Scotland, which is noticed by my ingenious friend, Mr. Charles 
 KirkpaitJick Sharpe, in his valuable and curious edition of that work, 
 4to, 1817. Sir William Scott, eldest of the brothers, remained, amid 
 the defection oif his two younger brethren, an orthodox member of the 
 Presbyterian Church, and used such means ifor reclaiming Walter of 
 Raeburn from his heresy as savoured far more of persecution ithan 
 persuasion. In this he was assisted by MacDougal of M'akereton, 
 brother to Isabella MacDougal, the wife of the said Walter, and who, 
 like her husband, had confoacued to the Quaker tenets. 
 
 The interest possessed by Sir Williami Soott and Makerston was 
 powerful enough to procure the two following acts of tihe Privy Coun- 
 cil of Scotland, directed against Walter of Raeburn as an heretic and 
 convert to Quakerism, appointing him tlo be Imprisoned first in Edin- 
 burgh jail, and then in that of Jedburgh; and his children to be taken 
 by force from the society and direction of their parents, and educated 
 at a disitance from them, besides the assignment of a sum for their 
 maintenance sufficient in Chose times 'to be burdensome to a moderate 
 Scottish estate: — 
 
 'Apud Bdin, vigeaimo Junil 1665. 
 
 'The Lords of his Maj. Privy Councill having reoeived informa- 
 tion that Scoitt of Raeburn, and Isobel Mackdougall, his wife, being 
 infected with the error of Quakerism, doe endeavour to breld and 
 tralne up William, Walter, and Isobel iScotts, their children, in the 
 saene profession, doe yrfore give order and command to Sir William 
 Scott of Ha- den, the sd Raeburn's brother, to seperat and take away 
 the sds Children ifrom tIhe custody and society of the sds parents, and 
 to cause educat and bring them up in his owne house, or any other 
 convenient place, and ordaines letters to be diredt at the sd Sir Will- 
 iam's instance against Raeburn, for a maintenance to the sds chil- 
 dren, and that the sd. Sir Wm. gave ane account of his diligence wtiith 
 all oonveniency.' 
 
 •Edinburgh, 5th July 1666. 
 
 'Anent a petition presented by Sir Wm. Scott of Harden, for him- 
 self and in name and behalf 'of the three children of Walter Scott of 
 Raeburn. his brother, showing that the Lords of Council, by a.ne act 
 of the 22d (20th) day of Junii 1665, did grant power and warrand to the 
 petitioner to separat and take away Raeburn's children from hi® fam- 
 ily and education, and to breed them in some convenient place, where 
 they mig'ht be free .from all infedtion in yr younger years from t/he 
 princepalls of Quakerism, and, for maintenance of the sds children, 
 did ordain letters to be direct against Raeburn; and. seeing the peti- 
 tioner, in obedience to the sd 'order, did take away 'the sds children, 
 being two sonnes and a daughter, and after some paines taken upon 
 them in his owne family, hes sent them to the city of Glasgow, to be 
 bread at schooles, and tftiere to be principled with the knowledge of 
 the true religion, and that it is necessiary the Councill determine what 
 shall be the maintenance for qch Raeburn's three children mjiy bp 
 chained, e,s likewayes that Raeburn himself, being now pTisoner in 
 
 'See Douglas's Baronage, p. 215. 
 
NOTES 526 
 
 the Tolbulth of Edin., where he dayley converses with all the Quak- 
 ers who are prisoners there, and others who dayly resont to them, 
 whereby he is hardened in his .pernitious opinions and principles, 
 without all ho'pe of recovery, unlesse he be seperate from such per- 
 nitious company, humiii.\- ilierefore, desyring 'that the Councill might 
 determine upon the soutne Oif money to be payed be Raeburn, for the 
 education of his children, to the petitioner, who will be countable 
 yrfore; and yt, in order to his conversion, the place of his imprison- 
 ment may be changed. The Lords of his Maj. Privy Councill, having 
 at length heard and considered the forsd petition, doe m'odiiie the 
 soume of two thousand pounds Scots, to be payed yearly at the iterme 
 of Whiitsunday be the sa.d Vv'alter Scott of Raeburn, furth of his 
 estate, to the petitioner, for tihe entertainment and education of the 
 sd children, beginning the first termes payment yrof ax Whitsunday 
 last ifor the half year preceding, and so lurth yearly, at the sd terme 
 of Whitsunday in tyme coming till further orders; and ordaines the 
 sd Walter Scott of Raeburn to be 'transported from the Tolbuith of 
 Edr to the prison of Jedburgh, where his friends and oyrs may 
 have occasion to convert himu And to the effect he may be secured 
 from the practice of oyr Quakers, the sds Lords doe hereby discharge 
 the magistrates of Jedburgh to suffer any percons suspect of these 
 princip'lls to have access to )him; and in case any contraveen, that 
 they secure yr persons till they be yrfore puneist; and ordaines let- 
 ters to be direct heirupon in form, as effeirs.' 
 
 Both the sons thus harshly separated from their father proved 
 good scholars. 'The eldest, William, who carried on the line of Rae- 
 burn, was, like his father, a deep' Orientalist; the younger, Walter, 
 became a good classical scholar, a great friend and correspondent 
 of the celebrated Dr. Pitcairn, and a Jacobite so distinguished for 
 zeal that he made a vow never to shave his beard till the restoration 
 of the exiled family. This last Walter Scott was the Author's great- 
 grandfather. 
 
 There is yet another link betwixt the Author and the simpl'e- 
 minded and excellent Society of Friends, through a proselyte of much 
 more importance than Walter Scott of Raeburn. The celebrated John 
 Swinton of Swinton, nineteenth 'baron in descent of that ancient and 
 once powerful family, was. with Sir William Lockhart of Lee, the 
 person whom Cromwell chiefly trusted in the anariag;ement of the 
 Scottish affairs during his usurpation. After the Restoration, Swin- 
 tO'n was devoted as a victim to the new order of things, and was 
 brought down in the same vesseJ which conveyed tihe Marquis of 
 Argyle to Edinburg-h, whc're that nobleman was tried and executed. 
 SwintO'n -was destined to the same fate. -He had assumed the 'habit 
 and entered into the society of the Quakers, and appeared as one of 
 their number before the Parliament of Scotland. He renounced all 
 legal defence, though several pleas were open to him and answered, 
 in conformity to the iprinciples of his sect, that at the time these 
 crimes were imiputed to him he was in the gall of bitterness and bond 
 of iniquity; but that God Almig'hty having since called him to the 
 light, he saw and acknowledged these errors, and did not refuse to 
 pay the forfeit of them, even though, in the judgment of the Parlia- 
 ment, it s'hould extend to life itself. 
 _ Respect to fallen greatness, and to the patience and calm resigna- 
 tion with which a mian once in high power expressed himself under 
 such a change of fortune, found Swinton friends; family connexions 
 and some interested co'nsiderations of Middleton, the Commissioner, 
 joined to procure his safety, and he was diismissed, but after a long 
 imprisonment and much dilapidation of his estates. It is said that 
 Swinton's admonitions while confined in the Castle of Edinburgh had 
 a considerable share in converting to the tenets of the Friends Colonel 
 David Barcl-ay, then lying there in garrison. This was the father of 
 Robert Barclay, author of the neleb-rated Apologv for the Quakers. 
 It may be observed among the inconsistencies of human nature, that 
 Kirfcton, VVo'lrow. a'nd other Presbvterian aiUbors, .who have detailed 
 the sufferings of their own sect ^oir non-conformity with the estab- 
 lished cnurch, 'ceri'sure the government of the 'time for not exerting 
 the civil power a'gainst the peaceful enthusiasts we have treated of. 
 and some^ex-'pre.ss particular chagrin at the escape of Swinton. What- 
 ^lU^if^^'^'^ ^''?iS'°*'"^2^.f?'' assuming the tenets of the Friends, the 
 oad man retained them falthfuniy till the clo'^e of his life 
 
526 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 Jeian Swinton, prand-daustiter of Sir Zdhxx .Swinton, son of Judge 
 Swinton, as the Quaker was usually termed, was the mother o£ Anne 
 Rutherford, the Author's mother. 
 
 And thus, as in the play of the Anti-Jacobin, the ghost of the 
 Author's grandmother having arisen to speak the (Epilogue, it is full 
 time to oonlude. lest the reader should remonstrate that his desire to 
 know the author of Waverley never included a wish to be ac- 
 quainted with his whole ancesitry. 
 
 NOTE 3.— Ea^INBURGH CITY GUARD, p. 24 
 
 The Lord Provost was ex-offlcio commander and colonel of the 
 corps, 'Which might >be increased to ithree hundred men when the times 
 required it. No other drum but theirs was allowed to sound on the 
 High Street between t'he Luckenbooths and the Netherbow. 
 
 NOTB 4.— LAST MARCH OP THE CITY GUARX), p. 26. 
 
 This ancient corps is now entirely disbanded. Their last march t» 
 do duty at Hallow Fair had something in it affecting. Their drumis 
 and fifes had been wont on better days to play, ©n this joyous ©«- 
 casion, the lively tune of 
 
 'Jockey to the fair;' 
 but en this final occasion the afflioted veterans moved slowly to the 
 dirge of 
 
 'The last time I came ower tihe mulr.' 
 
 NOTE 5.— THE KHLPIE'S VOICE, p. 29 
 
 There Is a tradition that, wMIe a little stream was swollen imto a 
 torrent by recent showers, the discontented voice of the Water Spirit 
 was heard to pronounce these words. At the saane moment a man, 
 urged on by his fate, or in Scottish language, 'fey,' arrived at a gallop 
 and prepai'ed to cross 'the water. No remonistrance from the bystand- 
 ers was of power to stop him; he plunged into the stream and per- 
 ished. 
 
 NOTE 6.— BESS WTND, p. 35 
 
 Miaitland caUs it Best's Wynd, and later writers Beth's Wynd. 
 As the name implies, it was an open thoroughfare or alley ieadiniff 
 from the Dawnmarket, and extended in a direct line between the old 
 tolbooth to near the head of the Cowgate. It was partly destroyed 
 by fire in 1786, and was totally removed in 1809, preparatory to the 
 building of the new libraries of the (Faculty of Advocates and Writers 
 to the gignet (Laing). 
 
 NOTE 7.— LAW RELATING TO CHILD-MURDBR, p. 45 
 
 The Scottish Statute Book, anno 1690, ohaipter 21, in consequence 
 of the great increase of the crime of child-muirder, both from the 
 temptations to commit the offence and the difficulty of discovery, 
 enacted a certain set of presumptions, which, in the absence of di- 
 rect proof, the jury were directed to receive as evidence of the crime 
 having actually been committed. The circumstances selected for 
 this purpose were, that the woman should have concealed her situa- 
 tion during the whole period of pregnancy; that she should not have 
 called for help at her delivery; and that, combined with these grounds 
 of suspicion, the child should be either found dead or be altogether 
 missing. Many persons suffered death during the last century under 
 this severe act. But during the Author's memory a more lenient 
 course was followed, and the female accused under the act, and con- 
 scious of no competent defence, usually lodged a petition to the 
 Court of Justiciary, denying, for form's sake, the tenor of the indict- 
 ment, but stating that, as her good name had been destroyed by tha 
 
KOTES B2T 
 
 charge, she was willing to submit to sentence of banishment, to 
 whioh the crown counsel usually consented. This lenity in practice, 
 and the comparative infrequency of the crime since the doom of pub- 
 lic ecclesiastical penance has been generally dfepensed with, have led 
 to the abolition of the Statute of William and Mary, which is n'ow re- 
 placed by another, imposing banishment in those circumstances in 
 whicb tha crime was formerly capital. Tihis alteration took place In 
 1808. 
 
 NOTB t. ^ENGLISH TRANSLATION OP 'PORTA,* etc. p. 47, 
 
 Wide is the fronting gate, and. raised on high. 
 With adamantine columns threats the sky; 
 Vein is the lorce of man, and Heaven's as vain, 
 TV) crush the pillars whioh the pile sustain, 
 Sublime on these a tower of steel is rear'd. 
 
 DRYDEN'S Virgil, BOOK VL 
 
 NOTB 9.— JOURNEYiMEN MECHANICS, p. 53. 
 
 A near relation of the Author's used to tell of having been stopped 
 by the rioters and escorted home in the manner described. On reach- 
 ing her own home, one of her attendants, in appearance a 'baxter,' 
 i. e. a baker'-s lad, handed her out of her chair, and took leave with 
 a bow, which, in the lady's opinion, argued breeding that could 
 hardly be learned beside the oven. 
 
 NOTE 10.— THE OLD TOLBOOTH, p. 55. 
 
 Th« ancient tolbooth of Edinburgh, situaited and described as in 
 chapter vri., was built by the citizens in 1561, and destined for the ac- 
 commodation of Parliament, as well as of the High Courts of Jus- 
 tice, and at the same time for the continement of prisoners for debt 
 or on criminal charges. Since the year 1640, when the present Parlia- 
 ment Housei was erected, the tolbooth wais occupied as a prison only. 
 Gloomy and dismal as it was, Che situation in the centre of the High 
 Street rendered it so particularly well-aired, that when the plague 
 laid waste the city, in 1645, it affected none within thesg melancholy 
 precincts. The tolbooth was removed, with the mass of buildings 
 in which it was incorporated, in the Autumn of the year 1817. At that 
 time the kindnesa of his old schoolfellow and fr.end, Robert Johnstone, 
 Esquire, 'then I>ean of Guild of the city, wdth the liberal acquiescence 
 of the persons who had contracted for the worlv, piocured for the 
 Author of Waverley the stones which composed the gateway, to- 
 gether with the door, and its ponderous fastenings, which he em- 
 ployed in decorating the entrance of his kitchen-court at Abbots- 
 ford. 'To such base offices may we return!' The application of 
 these relics of the Heart of Midlothian to serve as the postern gate 
 to a court of modern offlces maj be justly ridicuied as whimsical; 
 but yet it is not without interest that we see the gateway through 
 which so much of the stormy politics of a rude age, and the vice and 
 misery of later times, had found their passage, now occupied in the 
 service of rural economy. Last year, to complete the change, a tom- 
 tit was pleased to built her nest within the lock of the tolbooth, a 
 Btrong temptation to have committed a sonnet, had the Author, like 
 Tony Lumpkin, been in a concatenation accordingly. 
 
 rt is worth mentioning that an, act of beneficence celebrated the 
 demolition of the Heart of Midlothian. A subscription, raised and 
 applied by the worthy magistrate above-mentioned, procured the 
 manumission of rr.oFt of the unfortunate debtors confined in the old 
 jail, so that there were few or none transsfcrred to the new place of 
 conflement. — 
 
 Few persons t<ow living are likely to remember the interior of the 
 Old Tolbooth, w'th narrow staircase. thicK walls, and small apart- 
 ments, nor to imagine that it could ever have been used for these 
 purposes. Robert Chambers, in his Minor Antiquities of Edinburgh, 
 has preserved ground-plans, or sections, whioh clearly show this. 
 Th» l&TBreat hall was on the second floor, and measured 27 feet by 20, 
 
528 
 
 WAVERLET ITOVEL^ 
 
 and 12 feet high. It may have been intended for the meetings of tJie 
 Town Council, while the Parliament assembled, aiier lt)iiO, in what 
 was called the Upper Tolbooth. that is, the south-west portion of the 
 Ooileeiate Church of St. Giles, until the year 16-10, when the present 
 Parliament House was completed. Being no longer required for sucn 
 a purpose, it was set apart by the Town Council on the 24th Decem- 
 ber Ifril as a distinct church, with the name of the Tolbooth parish, 
 and therefore could not have derived the name from its vicinity to 
 the tolbooth. as usually stated. The flgxire of a heart upon the pave- 
 ment between St. Giles's Church and the Edinburgh County Hall 
 now marks the site of the Old Tolbooth (Liaing.) 
 
 XOTE 11.— THE MIJRDER OF CAPTAIN P0RTEU5, p. 64. 
 
 The following interesting and authentic account of the inquiries 
 made by Crown Counsel into the affair of the Porteous Mob seems 
 to have been drawn up by the Solicitor-General. The office was held 
 in 1737 by C'harles Erskine. Esq. I owe this curious illustration to the 
 kindness of a orofessional friend. It throws, indeed, little light on 
 tne origin of the tumult; but shows how profound the darkness must 
 have been, which so muci:. investigation could not dispel. 
 
 'Upon the Tth of September last, when the unhappy, wicked mur- 
 der of Captain Porteus was committed, his Majest.es Advocate and 
 Solicitor were out of town, the first beyond Inverness and the other 
 in Annandale, not far from Carlyle; neither of them knew anything 
 of the reprieve, nor did t'hey in the least suspect that any disorder 
 was to happen. 
 
 'When the disorder happened, itihe magistrates and other persons 
 concerned in the management of the town, seemed to be all scruck 
 of a heap; and whether, from the great terror that had seized all the 
 inhabitants, they thought ane immediate enquiry would be fruitless, or 
 whether being a direct insult upon the prerogative of the crown, 
 Ihey did not care rashly to intermeddle— but no proceedings was had 
 by them. Only, soon after, ane express was sent to his Majesties 
 Solicitor who came to town as gioon as was possible for him; but, in 
 the meantime, the persons who had been most guilty had either run 
 off or, at least, kept themseU-es upon the wing until they sJiould see 
 •what steps were taken by the Government. 
 
 'When the Solicitor arrived, he perceived the whole Inhabitants 
 under a consternation. He had no materials furni&hed him; nay, the 
 inhabitants were so much afraid of being reputed informers, that 
 very few people had so much as the courage to speak with him on the 
 streets. However, having received her Majesties orders, by a letter 
 from the Duke of Newcastle, he resolved to sett abcut the matter in 
 earnest, and entered, upon ane enquiry, gropemg in the dark. He 
 had no assistance from the magistrates worth mentioning, but called 
 witness after witness in the privatest manner before himself in his 
 own house, and for six weeks time, from morning to evening, went on 
 In the enquiry without taking the least diversion, or turning his 
 thoughts to any other business. 
 
 'He tried at first what he could do by declarations, by engaging 
 secresy, so that those who told the truth should never be discovered; 
 made use of no clerk, but wrote all the declarations with his ctwti 
 hand, to encourage them to speak out. After all, for some time, he 
 could get nothing but ends of stofries. which, w'hen pursued, broke off; 
 and those who appeared and knew anything of the matter were under 
 the utmost terror lest it should take air that they had mentioned any 
 one man as guilty. 
 
 'During the course of the inquiry, the run of the town, w'hich was 
 strong for the villanous actors, begun to alter a little, and when they 
 saw the King's servants in earnest to d*^ their best, the generality, 
 who before had spoke very warmly in defence of the wickedness, 
 begun to be silent, and ait that period more of the criminals begun to 
 ajbscond. 
 
 'At length the enquiry began to open la little, and the Sollicitor 
 ■was under some difficulty hoiw to proceed. He very well saw that the 
 first warrand that was issued out would start the whole gang, and as 
 he had not come at any one of the most notorious offenders, he was 
 unwilling, uwon the slight evidence he had, to begin. However, upon 
 notice given him by Generall Moyle that one King, a butcher dn the 
 Cenongate, had boas'ted in presence of Bridget Knell, a soldier's wife, 
 
NOTEIS 526 
 
 the mcxrning after Captain Porteus was liang'ed that he had a very 
 aotive hand in tlie mob, a warrand was issued out, and King was ap- 
 preliended and im.prisoned in the Oanongaie tolbooth. 
 
 "This obliged llie tj'O'iliL, lo.- uumediatelv to prucc^ • to take up those 
 against whom he had any information. By a scgned declaration, 
 William Stirling, apprentice to James Stirling, merchanx in Edin- 
 burgh, was charged as haveing been at the Nether-Bow, after the 
 gates iwere shutt, with a Liochaber ax, or halbert, in his hand, and 
 haveing begun a, huzza, marched upon the head of the mob towards 
 the Guard. 
 
 •James Braidwood, son to a candlemaker in ^town, was, by a 
 signed declaration, charged as haveing been at the Tolbooth door, 
 giveing directions to the mob about setting fl.re to the door, and tha.t 
 t)he mob named him by his name, and asked his advice 
 
 'By another declaration, one Stoddart, a journeyman smith, was 
 charged of haveilng boasted publickly. in a smith's shop at Leitb 
 that he had assisted in breaking open the Tolbooth door. 
 
 •Peter Traill, a journeyman wright, by one of the declarations, 
 was also accused of haveing lockt the Nether-Bow Port when it wa^ 
 sihutt by the mob. 
 
 'His Majesties Sollioitor having these nformaitions. imployed pri- 
 vately such persons as he could best rely on, and the truth was, there 
 were very few in whom he could repose confldence. But he was, 
 indeed, faithfully served by one Wabs-ter, a, soldier in the Welsh 
 fuzileers, recommended to him by Lieutenant Alshton, who, with 
 very great address, informed himself, and really run some risque in 
 getting his information, concerning the places where the persons in- 
 formed against used to haunt, and how they might be seized. In 
 consequence of which, a party of the Guard from the Canongiate was 
 agreed on to march up at a certain hour, when a message should be 
 sent. The Sollic.tar wiote a letter and gave it to one of thj tovv-n 
 ofhcers, ordered to attend Captain Maiiland, one of th:,' town C-iptains, 
 promoted to that comniand s.nce the unha'ppy accident, who. .ndeeJ, 
 was extremely diligent and active throughout the whole; and haveing 
 got Stirling and Braid'wood apprehended, despatched the oflicers writh 
 the letter to the military in Canongate, who immediately begun tlieir 
 march, atid by the time the Sollicitor had half examined the said two 
 persons m the Burrow-room, where tlie magistrates were preseiit, a 
 party of fifty men, drums beating, marched into the Parliament clo'ss, 
 and drew up, which was the lirst thing that struck a terror, and 
 from that tiine forward the insolence was succeeded by fear. 
 
 'Stirling and Braidwood were iinmediately sent to the Castle and 
 imprisoned. That same nig-ht, Stoddart, the smith, was seized, and he 
 was committed to the Castle also, as was likewise Traill, the journey- 
 man wright, who were all severally examined, and denied the least 
 accession. 
 
 'In the meantime the enquiry was going on, and it haveing cast up 
 in one of the declarations, thait a hump'd-backed creature marched 
 with a gun as one of the guards to Porteus when 'he went up to the 
 Lawn Markett, the person who emitted this declaration was em- 
 ployed to walk the streets to see if he could find him out; at last he 
 came to the Sollicitor and told him he had found him, and that he 
 was in a certain house. Whereupon a warrand was issued out against 
 him, and he was apprehended and sent to the Castle, and he proved 
 to h* one Birnie, a helper to the Countess of Weemy's coaciiman. 
 
 'Thereafter, ane informfltion was given 'in against William 
 M'Lauchlan, ffootman to the said Counters, as haveing been verv 
 active in the mob; if or some time he kept himself out of the way, but 
 at last he was apprehended and likewise committed to the Castle. 
 
 'And these were all the prisoners who were putt under confine- 
 mient in that place. 
 
 'There were other persons imprisoned in the Tolbooth at Edin' 
 burgh, and severalls against wihom warrands were issued, but could 
 not be apprehended, whose names and cases shall afterwards he more 
 particularly taken notice of. 
 
 'The if riends of Stirling made ane application to 'the Earl of Islay, 
 Lord Justic«-Generall, setting furth, that he was seized with a bloody 
 mux; that his life was in danger; and that upon ane examination of 
 witnesses whose names were given In, it would appear to conviotlon 
 that he had not the least access to any »f the riotous proceed/ng» of 
 that wicked moto. 
 
530 WA VERLE Y NO VEL8 
 
 'This petition was by his Lordship putt In the hands of his Majes« 
 ties Sollici'tor, who examined the witnesses; and by their testimonies 
 it aippeared tliat the youjig' man, wlio was not above elgihteen yeara 
 of age, was tliat night in company 'With about half a dozen compan- 
 ions, in a public house in Stephen Law's does, near the iback of the 
 Guard, wiliere they all remained untWl the noise came to the house 
 that the mob had shut the gates a,nd seized tne Guard, upon which 
 the company broke up, and he and one of his companions went 
 towards ihis master's house; and, in the course cf the after examina- 
 tion, there was a witness who declared, nay, indeed swore — for the Sol- 
 licitor, by this time, saw it necessary to put those he examined upon 
 oath — that he met him [Stirling] after he entered into t'he alley where 
 his master lives, going towards his house; and another witiiess, fellow- 
 prentice with Stirling, declares that after the mob had seized the 
 Guard, he went home, where he found Stirling betore him; and tihat 
 his master lockt the door, and kept them both alt home till after 
 tiwelve at night: upon weighing of whioh testimonies, and upon con- 
 sideration had, that he was charged by the declaration only of one 
 person, who really did not appear to be a witness of the greatest 
 weight, and that his idfe was in danger from the imprisoniment, he 
 was admitted to baill by the Lord Justioe-Generall, by whose war- 
 rand he was committed. 
 
 'Braidwood's friends applyed' .in the same manner; but as he stood 
 ciiharged by more than one iwiitness, he was not released — tho', indeed, 
 the wltntsses adduced for him say somewhat in his exculpation — that 
 he does not seem to have been upon any original concert; and one of 
 the wutne.-.ses says he w?,s along with him at the Tolbooth door, and 
 refuses what is said against him, with regard to his having advised 
 the burning of the Tolbooth door. But he remains still in prison. 
 
 'As to Traill, the journeyman wnight, he is charged by the same 
 witness who declared against Stirling, and there is none concurrs 
 with him; and to say the truth concerning him, he seemed to be the 
 most ingen:ous of any of them whom the Sollicitor examined, and 
 pointed out a witness 'by whom one of the first aocomplices was dis- 
 covered, and Who escaped 'When the warrand was to be puitt in execu- 
 tion against them. He positively denys his having shutt the gate, and 
 'tis thought Traill ought to be admitted to baill. 
 
 'As for Birnie, he is charged only by one witness, who haxJ never 
 seen him before, nor knew his name; so, tho' I dare say the witness 
 honestly mentioned him, 'tis possible he may be mistaken; and in the 
 examination of above 200 witnesses, there is no body concurrs iwith 
 him, and he is ane insignificant little creature. 
 
 'With regard to M'Lauchlan, the proof is strong against him by 
 one witness, thait he acted as a serjeant or sort of commander, for 
 some time, of a Guard that stood cross between the upper end of the 
 Luckenbooths and the north side of the street, to stop all but friends 
 from going towards the Tolbooth ; and by other witnesses, that he 
 was at the Tolbooth door with a link in his hand, while the operation 
 of beating and burning it was going on; that he went along with the 
 mok, with a halbert lin his hand, until he came to the gallows-stone 
 In the Grassmarket, and that he stuck the halbert into the hole of 
 the gallows-stone; that afterwards he went in amongst the mob when 
 Captain Porteus was carried to the dyer's tree; so that the proof 
 seems very heavy against him. 
 
 "To sum up this matter with regard to the prisoners in the Castle, 
 'tis believed there ^is strong proof against M'Lauchlan; there is ailso 
 proof against Braidwood. But as it consists only in emission of 
 words said to have been had by him while at the Tolbooth door, and 
 that he is an insignificant, pitiful creature, and will find people to 
 swear heartily in his favours, 'tis ait best doubtful whether a jury 
 will be got to condemn him. 
 
 'As to those in the Tolbooth of Bdinboirgh, John Crawford, who 
 had for some time been employed to ring the bells in the steeple of 
 the new Church of Edinburgh, beting in company w'ith- a soldier acci- 
 dentally, the discourse falling in concerning Captain Porteus and his 
 murder, as he appears to be a lightheaded fellow, he said that he 
 knew people that were more guilty than any that were putt in prieon. 
 Upon this information Crawford was seized, and being examined, it 
 appeared thaJt, when the mob begun, as he was comeing down from 
 the steeple, the mob took the keys from him: thait he was that night 
 In several comers, amd did indeed delate severall persons whom he 
 
JTOTES 53: 
 
 saw there, and Immediately warmands were dispatched, and It was 
 found they had absconded and lied. But tliere was no evidence 
 against him of any kind. Nay, on the contrary, it appeared that he 
 had been witii tlie Magistraies in Clerk's, tlie vintner's, relating to 
 them what lie had seen in the streets. Therefore, after haveing de- 
 tained him in prison fior a very considerable time, his Majestie's 
 Advocate and Sollicitor signed a warand for his liberation. 
 
 'There was also one J.imcs Wilson ■incarcerated in the said ToQ- 
 booth, upon the declaration of one witness, who said lie saw him on 
 the streets with a gun; and there he remained for some time in order 
 to try if a concurring witness could be found, or that h© acted any 
 part in the tragedy and wickedness. But nothing further appeared 
 against h:m; and being seized with a severe ©ickness, he is, by a 
 warrand signed by his Majestie's Advocate and Sollicitor, liberated 
 upon giveing sufficient baill. 
 
 'As to King, enquiry was made, and the ffact comes out beyond all 
 exception, that he was in the lodge of the Nether-Bow, with Lindsay 
 the waiter, and several other people, not at all concerned in ithe mob. 
 But after the affair was over he went up towards the guard, and 
 having met with Sandie the Turk and his wife, who escaped out of 
 prison, they returned to his 'house ait 'the Abbey, and then 'tis very 
 possible he may have thought fl'tt in his beer to boast of villany, in 
 which he could not possibly have any share; for that reason he was 
 desired to find baill and he should be seit at liberty. But he is a 
 stranger and a fellow of very indifferent character, and 'tis believed 
 it won't be easy for him to And baill. Wherefore, it's thought he 
 must be sett at liberty without it. Because he is a burden upon the 
 Government while kept in confinement, not being able 'to maintain 
 himself. 
 
 'What is above is all that relates to persons in cusitody. But 
 there are warrands out against a great many other persons who are 
 fled, particularly against one WiUiam White, a journeyman baxter, 
 who, by the evidence, appears to have been at the beginning of the 
 mob. and to have gone along with the drum, from the West-Port, to 
 the Nether-Eow, and is said to have been one of those who attacked 
 the guard, and probably was as deep as any one there. 
 
 'Information was given that he was lurking at Falkirk, where he 
 was born. Whereupon directions were sent to the 'Sheriff of the county, 
 and a warrand from his Excellency Generall Wade to the command- 
 ing officers at Stirling and Linlithgow, to assist, and all possible en- 
 deavours were used to catch hold of him, and 'tis said he escaped 
 very narrowly, having lyen concealed in some outhouse; and the mi.s- 
 fortune was, that those who were employed in the search did not 
 know him personally. Nor, indeed, was it easy ito trust any of the 
 acquaintances of so low, obscure 'a fellow with the secret of the 
 warrand to be putt into execution. 
 
 'There was also strong evidence found against Robert Taylor, 
 servant to William and Charles Thomsons, periwig-makers, that he 
 acted as ane officer among .the mob, and he is traced from the guard 
 to the well at the head of 'Forrester's Wynd, where he stood and had 
 the appellation of Captain from the mob, and from that walking down 
 the Bow before Captain Porteus, with his Lochaber axe; and by the 
 description given of one who had (hawl'd the rope by which Captain 
 Porteus was pulled up, 'tis believed Taylor was the person; and 'ti? 
 further probable th«.t the witness who delated Stirling had mistaken 
 Taylor for him, their stature and age (so far as can be gathered 
 from the description) being much the same. 
 
 'A great deal of pains were taken, and no charge was saved, in. 
 order to have catched hold of this Taylor, and warrands were sent to 
 'the country where he was born: but it appears he had shipt ihimself 
 oft for Uollaud, where it is said he now is. 
 
 'There is strong evidence also against Thomas Burns, butcher, that 
 he was ane active person from the beginning of the mob to 'the end 
 of it. He Hurkt for some 'time amongst those of his trade; and art- 
 fully enough a train was laid to catch him, under pretence of a mes- 
 sage that had come from his father in Ireland, so that he came to 
 a blind ale-house in the Flesh-market closs, and a party 'being ready, 
 was by "Webster the soldier, who was upon this exploit, advertised to 
 •ome down. However, Burns escaped out at a back window, and hid 
 
582 WAVEELEY NOVELS 
 
 himself in some ot the houses which are heaped together upon one 
 another in that place, so that it was not possible to catch him. 'Tis 
 now said he is gone to Ireland to his father, who lives there. 
 
 'There is evidence also against one Robert Anderson, journtyman 
 and servant to Colin Alison, wright, and against Thomas Liinnen 
 tLinningj and James Maxwell, both servants also to 'the said Colin 
 Alison, who all seem to have been deeply concerned in the matter 
 Anderson is one of those who putt the rope upon Captain Porteus's 
 neck. Linnen seems also to have been very active; and Maxwell— 
 which is pretty remarkable — is proven to have come to a shop upon 
 the Friday before, and charged the journeymen and prentices there 
 to attend in the Parliament close on Tuesday night, to assist to hang 
 Captain Porteus. These three did early abscond, and though war- 
 rands had been issued out against them, and all endeavours used to 
 apprehend them, could not be found. , ,., ^ x ,.. ^ 
 
 'The like warrands had been issued with regard to ships from 
 Leith. But whether they had been scard, or whether the informa- 
 tion had been groundless, ithey had no effect. 
 
 'This is a summary of the enquiry, fCrom which It appears there 
 is no prooff on which one can rely, but against M'LauChlan. There 
 is a prooff also against Braidwood, bufmore exceptionable. 
 
 'One Walaie, a servant to George Campbell, wright, has also ab- 
 sconded, and '.Tiany others, and 'tis informed that numbers of them 
 have shipt themselves off Hot the Planta'tions; and upon ane informa- 
 tion that a ship was going off ffrom Glasgow, in which severall of 
 the rogues were to transport themselves beyond seas, proper war- 
 rands were otatamed, and persons dispatched to search the said sh.p, 
 and seize any that can be found. .... 
 
 'His Maiesties Advocate, since he came to itown, has join'd with 
 the Solicitor, and has done his utmost to gett at the bottom of this 
 matter but hitherto it stands as is above represented. They are re- 
 solved to have their eyes and their ears open and to do what they can. 
 But they labour'd exceedingly against the stream; and it may truly 
 be said that nothing was wanting on their part. Nor hav^, they de- 
 clmed any labour to answer the commands laid upon them to search 
 the matter to the bottom.' 
 
 THE PORTEOUS MOB 
 
 In chapters ii.-vii.. the circumstances of that extraorfllnary riot 
 and conspiracy, called' the Porteous Mob, are given with as much ac- 
 curacy as the Author was able to collect them. The order, repularlty, 
 and determined resolution with which such a violent action was de • 
 visea and executed were only equalled by the secrecy which was ob- 
 served concerning the principal actors. 
 
 Although the fact was performed by torch-light, and in presence 
 oi a great multitude, to some ot whom, at least, the individual actors 
 must have been known, yet no discovery was ever made concerning 
 any of the perpetrators of the slaughter. 
 
 Two men only were brought to trial for an offpnce which the gov- 
 ernment were so anxious to detect and punish. William M'Leuchlan, 
 footman to the Countess of Wemyss, who is mentioned in the report 
 of the Solicitor-General (page 530), against whom strong evidence had 
 :been obtained, was brought to trial in March, 1737, charged as having 
 been accessory to the riot, armed with a I-o?haber axe. But this man, 
 who was at all times a silly creature, proved that he Was In a stata 
 of mortal intoxication during the time he was present With the rab- 
 ble, incapable of giving them either advice or assistance, or Indeed of 
 knowing what he or .they were doing. He was also able to prove that 
 he was forced into the riot, and upheld while there by two bakers, 
 who put a Lochaber axe into 'his hand. The .iury, wisely judging this 
 poor creature could be no proper subiect of punishmer't, found the 
 panel 'Not guilty.' The same verdict was given in the case of Thonias 
 Linning. also mentioned in the Solicitor's memorial, who was tried In 
 1738. In short, neither then, nor for a long period afterwards, was 
 anything discovered relating to t(he organisation of the Porteous Plot. 
 
 The imagination of the people of Edinburgh was long irritated, 
 and their curiosity kept awake, by the mystery attending this ex- 
 traordinary conspiracy. It was generally reported of sufth natives of 
 Edinburgh as, having left the city in youth, returned with a fortune 
 
IT0TE8 683 
 
 amassed In foreign countrtes, 'that they had originally fled on account 
 
 of aheir share in the Poi-leous Mob. But little credit cun be attached 
 10 these surmises, as in most ol" the cases they are 'Contradicted b^' 
 dates, and in none supported by anything but vague rumours, 
 grounded on the ordinary wish of the vulgar to impute the success of 
 prosperous men to some unpleasant source. The secret h. story of the 
 Porxeous Mob has been till this day unravelled; and it has always 
 been quoted as a close, daring, and calculated act of violence of a 
 nature peculiarly characteristic of the Scottish people. 
 
 Nevertheless, the Author, for a considerable time, nourished hopes 
 to have found himself enabled to throw some ligat on tins mystenons 
 story. An old man, who died about twenty years ago, at the ad- 
 vanced age of ninety-three, was said ito :have made a communication 
 to the clergyman who attended upon his death-bed, respecting the 
 origin of the Porteous Mob. This person followed the trade of a car- 
 penter, and had been en^ployed ■a.s such on t'he estate of a family cf 
 opulence and condition. His character, in his line of life and amongst 
 h.s neighbours, was excellent, and never underwent the slightest sus- 
 picion. His confession was said to have been to the following pur- 
 pose:— That he was one of twelve young men belonging to llie vihage 
 of Pathhead, whose animosity against Porteous, on account of the 
 execution of TVilson, was so extreme that they resolved to execute 
 vengeance on him with their own hands rather than he should escape 
 punishment. With this resolution they crossed the Forth at different 
 ferries and rendezvoused at the suburb called Portsburgh, where 
 their appearance in a body soon called numbers around them. The 
 public m'lnd was in such a slate of irritat.on ithat it only wanted a 
 single spark to create an explosion; and 'this was afforded by the 
 exertions of the small and determined band of associates. The ap- 
 pearance of premed.tation and order which distinguished the riut, ac- 
 cording to his account, had its origin, not in any previous plan or 
 conspiracy, but in the character of those who were engaged in it. 
 The story also serves to show why nothing of the origin of the riot 
 has ever been discovered, since, though in itself a great conflagra- 
 tion, its. source, according to this account, was from an obscure and 
 apparently inadcQuate cause. 
 
 I have been disappointed, however, in obtaining the evidence on 
 which this story rests. The present proprietor of the estate on 
 which the old man died (a particular friend of the Author) under- 
 took <to question the son of the deceased on the subject. This person 
 follows his father's trade, and holds the employment of carpenter 
 to the same family. He admits that his father's going abroad at the 
 time of the Porteous Mob was popularly attributed to his having 
 been concerned in that affair; but adds that, so far as is known tj 
 him, the old man had nev?r made any confession to that effect, and, 
 on the contrary, had uniformly denied being present. My kind friend 
 therefore had recourse to a person frgm whom he had formerly 
 heard the story; but w'h'o, eitner from respect to an old friend's 
 memory or from failure of his own, happened to have forgotten that 
 ever such a communication was made. So my obliging correspondent 
 (wno is a fox-ihunter) wrote to me that he was completely planted; 
 ana tiiat all that can be said with respect to the tradition is, that it 
 certainly once existed and was generally believed.— 
 
 The Rev. Dr. Carlyle, minister of Inveresk. in his Autobiographv 
 rives some interesting particulars relating to the Porteous Mob. from 
 
 (Laing) 
 
 NOTE 12.— DUMBIEDIKES, p. 69 
 
 r.f Dumbiedikes, selected as descriptive of the taciturn character 
 ?L K-in^¥"iYX °'^"^''' /f J^^^y ^he name of a house bordering on 
 <^=t,.^„l"^ ^ ^.^.t'^H ^*i ^^''^"^ because the late Mr. Braidwood an 
 LVtnrVf.^^'" °/A^^ deaf and dumb, resided there with his pupils The 
 wieaf mansion °"^^ *^ different from that assigned to t e 
 
534 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 XOTE 13.~COLLEGE STUDENTS, p. 71 
 
 Immediately previous to f^e Revolution, the students at the 
 Edinburgh College were violent anti-Catholics. They were strongly 
 suspected of burning- the house of Priestfleld, belonging to the Lord 
 Provost;" and certainly were ■gu'Mty of creating considerable riots ia 
 1688-89. 
 
 NOTE 14.^RECOMMENDATI0N TO ARBORICULTURE, p. 71 
 
 The Author has been flattered by the assurance that this naive 
 mode of recommending arboriculture— wliich was actually delivered 
 in these very words by a Highland laird, while on his death-bed, to 
 his son— had so much weight with a Scottish earl as to lead to his 
 planting a large tract of country. 
 
 NOTE 15.— CAR3PHARN JOHN, p. 84 
 
 John Bemple, called Carspharn John, because mlnis'ter of the 
 parish in Galloway so called, was a Presbyterian clergyman of 
 singular piety and great zeal, of whom Patrick Walker records the 
 following passage: 'That night after his wife died, he spent the 
 whole ensuing night in prayer and 'medita'tion in his garden. The 
 next mc-irning, one of his elders coming to see him, and lamenting 
 h:s great loss and want of rest, he replied, "I declare I have not, all 
 night, had one thought of the deatli of my wife I have been so 
 taken up in medita'ting on Heavenly things. I have been this night 
 on the banks of the Ulai. plucking an apple here and there." '— 
 Walker's Remarkable Passages of the Life and Death of Mr. John 
 Semple. 
 
 NOTE 16.— PATRICK WALKER, p. 94 
 
 This personage, whom it would be base ingratitude in the Author 
 to pass over without some notice, was by far the most zealous and 
 faithful collector and recorder of the actions and opinions of the 
 Caineronians. He resided, while stationary, at the Bristo Port of 
 Kdinburgh, but was by trade an itinerant merchant or pedlar, 
 which profession he seems to have exercised in Ireland as well as 
 Britain. He composed biographical notices' of Alexander 'Peden, 
 John Semple, John Wei wood, and Richard Cameron, all ministers of 
 the Cameronian persuasion, to which the last-mentioned member 
 gave the name. 
 
 It is from such tracts as 'these, written in the sense, feeling, and 
 spirit of the sect, and not from the sophisticated narrative of a later 
 peiMOd, that the real character of the persecuted class is to be gath- 
 ered-. Walker writes with a simplicity which sometimes slides into 
 the biirlosaue, and sometimes attain9 a tone of simple pathos, but 
 always expressing the most dai-ing coflJence in his own correctness 
 of creed and sentiments, somoiimes with narrow-minded and dis- 
 gusting bigotry. His turn for the marvellous was that of 'his time 
 and sect; but there is little room to doubt bis veracity concerning 
 whate\er he qr.otes on his own knowledge. His small tracts now 
 bring a very his^h price, especially the earlier and authentic editions. 
 The tirade against dancing pronounced by David Deans is, as in- 
 timated in the text, partly borrowed from Peter [Patrick] Walker. 
 He notices, as a fotil reproach upon the name of Richard Cameron, 
 that his memory was vituperated 'by pipers and fiddlers, playing 
 the Cameronian 'march — carnal vain springs, which too many pro- 
 fessors of religion dance to; a practice unbecoming the professors 
 of Christianity to dance to any spring, but somewhat more to this. 
 WTiatever," he proceeds, "be the many foul blots recorded of the 
 saints in Scripture, none of them is charged with this regular fit of 
 distraction. We And it has been practised by the wicked and pro- 
 fane, as the dancing at that brutish, base action of the calf-making: 
 ' end It had been good for that unhappy lass who danced off the head 
 of John the Baptist, that she had been born a cripple and never 
 drawn a limb to her. Historians say that her sin was written upon 
 her judgment, who some time thereafter was dancing upon the Ice 
 
NOTES 635 
 
 and It broke and snapt the head off her; her head danced above and 
 
 her teeL beneath. There is ground to th^nk and conclude that, when 
 t'he world's wickedness was great, dancing at their 'marriages was 
 practised; but when the heavens a'bove and the earth beneath were 
 let loose upon them with that overflowing flood, their mirth was 
 soon staid; and when the Lord in his holy justice rained Are and 
 brimstone from heaven upon that wicked people and city Sodom, 
 enjoying fulness of bread and idleness, their fiddle-strings and hands 
 went all in a flame; and the whole people in thirty miles of length 
 and ten of breadth, as historians say, were all made to fry in their 
 skins; and at the end, whoever are giving in marriages and dancing 
 when all will go in a flame, they will quickly change their note. 
 
 'I have often wondered thoiow my life, how any, that ever knew 
 what dt was to bow a knee in turne^t to pray, durs't crook a hough 
 to fyke and fling at a piper's and fiddler's springs. I bless the Lord 
 that ordered my lot so in my dancing aa:) s, that made the fear or 
 the Idoody rope and bullets to my neck and head, 'the pain of boots, 
 thumbikins. and irons, cold and hunger, wetness and weariness, to 
 Stop the lighcnc'ss of my head and the wantonness of my feet. What 
 the never-io-be-forgoiten Man of God, John Knox, said to Queen 
 'Mary, when she gave hi'm that sharp challenge, which would strike 
 our mean-spirited, tongue-tacked ministers dumb, for his giving 
 public faithful warning of the danger of church and nation, through 
 her marrying the Dauphine of France, when he left her bubbling and 
 greeting, and came to an outer court, where her Lady Maries were 
 fyking- and (liiicnig, he said, "O brave ladies, a biave world, if it 
 would last, and Pleaven at the binder end! But fye upon the knave 
 Death, that will seize upon these bodies of yours; and where will all 
 your fiddling and flinging be then?" Dancing being such a common 
 evil, especially amongst young professors, that all the lovers of the 
 Lord Should hate, has caused me to insist the more upon it, espe- 
 cially that foolish spring the Cameronian march!'— Life and Death 
 of three Famous Worthies, etc., by Peter [Patrick] Walker, 12mo, 
 p. 59. 
 
 It may be here observed, 'that some of the milder class of Cam- 
 eronians made a distinction between the two sexes dancing sep- 
 arately, and allowed of it as a healthy and not unlawful exercise; 
 but when men and women mingled in sport, it was then called pro- 
 miscuous dancing, and considered as a scandalous enormity. 
 
 NOTE 17.— MUSCHAT'S CAIRN, p. 107 
 
 Nicol Muschat, a debauched and profligate wretch, having con- 
 ceived a hatred against his wife, entered into a conspiracy with 
 another brutal libertine and gambler, named Campbell of Burnbank 
 (repeatedly mentioned in Pennecuick's satirical poems of the times), 
 bj' which Campbell undertook to destroy the woman's character, so 
 as to enable Muschat, on false pretences, to obtain a divorce from 
 iher. The brutal devices to which these worthy accomplices resorted 
 for that purpose having failed, they endeavored to destro.v her bj' 
 administering medicine of a dangerous kind, and in extraordinary 
 quantities. This purpose also ifailing, Nicol Muschat, or Musc'het, 
 did finally, on the 17th October, 1720, carry his wife under cloud of 
 night to the King's Park, adjacent to what is called the Duke's 
 Walk, near Holyrood Palace, and there took her life by cutting her 
 throat alm'ost quite through, and inflicting other wounds. He 
 pleaded guilty to the indictment, for which he suffered death. His 
 associate, Campbell, was sentenced to transportation for his share 
 in the previous conspiracy. See MacLaurin's Criminal Cases, pp. 64 
 and 73S. 
 
 In memory, and at the same time execration, of the deed, a 
 cairn, or pile of stones, I'ong marked the spot. It is now almost 
 totally removed, in consequence of an alteration on the road in that 
 place. 
 
 NOTE 18.— HANGMAN OR LOCKMAN, p. 132 
 
 Lockman, so called from the small quantity of meal (Seottloe, 
 lock) which he was entitled to take out »f every boll exposed to 
 market 'in the city. In Kdinburgh the duty has been very long- com- 
 
586 WAVERLET NOVELS 
 
 muted; but in Dumfries the finisher of the law still exercises, or 
 did lately exercise, his privilege, the quantity taken being reguiatea 
 by a small iron ladle, which he uses as the measure of his perquisite. 
 The expression lock, for a small quantity of any readily divisible 
 dry substance, as corn, meal, flax, or the like, is still preserved, not 
 only popularly, but in a legal description, as the lock and gowpen, 
 or small quantity and handful, payable In thirlage cases, as in town 
 multure. 
 
 NOTE 19.— THE FAIRY BOY OP LEITH, p. 144 
 
 TQiis legend was in former editions inaccurately said to exist In 
 Baxter's World of Spirits; but is, in 'fact, to be 'found in Pandemo- 
 nium, 'or the Devil's Cloyster; being a further blow to 'Modern Sad- 
 duceism, by Richard Bovet, Gentleman, 12mo, 1684 (p. 172, etc.) The 
 work is inscribed to Dr. Henry 'More. The story is entitled, 'A re- 
 markaible passage of one named the Fairy Boy of Leith, in Scotland, 
 given me by my worthy friend, Captain George Burton, and attes'tsd 
 under his own hand,' and is as follows:— 
 
 'About fifteen years since, having business that detained me for 
 some time in I^eit'h, which is near Edenborough, in the Kingdom of 
 Scotland I often met some of my acquaintances at a certain house 
 there, where we used to drink a glass of wine for our refection. 
 The woman whiah kept the house was of honest reputation amongst 
 the neighbours, which made me give the more attention to what she 
 lold me one day a'bout a Fairy Boy (as they called liim) who lived 
 aibout that town. She had given .me so strange an account of ihim 
 that I desired her I migh't see 'him the first opportunity, which tshe 
 promise'd; and not long after, passing that (way, she told me there 
 was the Fairy Boy but a li'ttle before I ca^me by; and casting her 
 eye into the street, said, "Look you, sir, yonder he is a't play with 
 those other boys," and designing him to me, I went, and by smooth 
 words, and a piece of money, g'ot him 'to cotaie into the house with 
 me; where, in the presence of divers 'people, 1 demanded of him sev- 
 eral astrological questions, which he answered witn great subtility, 
 and through all his discourse carryed it with a cunning much above 
 his years, which seemed not to exceed ten or eleven. He seemed to 
 make a motion like dru'mming upon ahe table with his fingers, upon 
 which I asked him, whether he could beat a drum, to W'hich he re- 
 plied, "Yes, sir, as well as any man In Scotland; for every Thursday 
 night I beat all points to a sort of people that used to meet under 
 yonder hill" (pointing to the great hill between Edenborough and 
 l.eith. "Hew, boy," quoth I; "what company have you there?" 
 "There are, sir," said he. "a great company both of men and women, 
 and they are entertained with many sorts of musick besides my 
 drum; they have, besides, plenty of variety of 'meats and wine; and 
 many times we are carried into France or Holland In a night, and 
 return again; and wliilst we are there, we enjoy all the pleasures 
 the countr\ doth afford." I demanded of him, how they got under 
 tnat hill. To which he replied, "That there were a great pair of 
 gates that opened to them, though they were invisible to others, and 
 that within there "were brave large rooms, as well accommodated as 
 most in Scotland." I then asked 'him ihorw I should know tvhat he 
 said 'to be true? Upon which he told me, ihe would read my fortune, 
 saying I should have t'wo wives, and that he saw ifhe tforms of them 
 sitting on my shoulders; that both iwould be very handsome women. 
 As he was thus speaking a woman of the neighibourhood, coming 
 into the room, demanded oi him what her 'fortune should be? He 
 told her that she had had two bastar'ds Ibefore she was married; 
 which put iher in such a rage that she desired not to hear the rest. 
 The woman 'of 'the house told me that all the people in Scotland 
 could not keep him from the rendesvous on Thursday night, upon 
 which, by ricm.'&lng him some more money, I got a promise of him 
 to meet me 'at the same place, dn the afternoon the Thursday fol- 
 lowing, and so di'smist him at .that itime. The boy came again at 
 the 'place and time aippointed, 'and I had prevailed with some friends 
 to continue with me if possible to prevent his .m'Oving that night; 
 he 'was placed between us, and answered many questions, -without 
 offering to go 'from us, until about eleven of the clock he was gat 
 away unperceived of the company; but I suddenly missing hlra. 
 
iroTEB tm 
 
 hasted tio the door and took hold of hl*n, and so returned him Into 
 the same room; ■we all watched him, and on a sudden he was again 
 got out of the doors. I followed him close, and he made a noise in 
 the street as if he had been sec upo<n; but from that time I coula 
 never see him. OEORGtB BURTON. 
 
 NOTE 20.— INTEaiCOURSEJ OP THE COVENANTERS WITH THE INVISIBL.E 
 
 WORLD, p. 145 
 
 The igloomy, dangerous and constant wanderings of the perse- 
 cuted sfct cf Cameronians naturally led to their entertaining wit'h pe- 
 culiar credulity the belief that they were sometimes persecuted, not 
 only (by the wi-ath of men, but by the secret wiles and open terrors 
 of 'Satan. In fact, a flood could not happen, a horse cast a shoe, or 
 eny other the most ordinary interruption thwart a minister's wish 
 to perform service at a particular spiot, than the accident was im- 
 
 Suted to the immediate agency of fiends. The encounter of Alexan- 
 er Peden with the devil in the cave, and that of John Semple with 
 the demon m the ford, are given by Peter [Patrick] Walker, almost 
 in the language of the test. 
 
 NOTE 21.— JOCK DALG1.EISH, p. 155 
 
 Among the flying leaves of the period there is one called 'Suther- 
 lan-d's Xiament 'for the loss of his post, — 'with this advice to John Dag- 
 lees, his successor.' He was whipped and banished, 25tih July, 1722. 
 
 There is anather, called The 'Speech and Dying Words of John 
 Daiglelsh, Lockman, al'ias tH&njgiman, of Edinburgh,' containdng 
 these lines:— 
 
 Death, I've a favour for to beg, 
 Tbat ye wad only gie a fleg. 
 
 And spare my life; 
 A« I did to lU-hanged Megg, 
 
 (Ualng.) 
 
 NOTH 22.— CALUMNIATOR OP THE FAIR SEX. p. 176 
 
 The journal of Graves, a Bow Street officer, despatched to Holland 
 to obtain the surrender of the unfortunate William Brodie, bears a 
 reflection on the ladies somewhat like that put in the mouth of the 
 police officer Sharpitlaw. It had been found difficult to identify the 
 unhappy criminal; and when a Scotch gentleman of respectability 
 had seemed disrposed Co give evidence on the point required, liis son- 
 in-law, a ciergyniun in Amsterdam, and his daughter, were suspected 
 by Graves to have used arguments with the witnes5s to dissuade him 
 fronx giving his testimony; on which subject the journal of the Bow 
 Street officer proceeds thus: 
 
 'Saw then a manifest reluctance in Mr. , and had no doubt the 
 
 daughter and parson would endeavour to persuade him to decline 
 trouibling himself in the matter, but judged he could not go back 
 from what he had said to Mr. Rich.— NOTA BENE. No mischief but 
 a woman or a priest in it— here both.' 
 
 NOTE 23.— TH'E .MAGISTRATES AND THE PORTEOUS MOB, p. 1S5 
 
 The ."Magistrates were closely interrogated before the House of 
 Peers, concerning the particulars of the Molb, and the patois In 
 which these functiionaries m'ade their answers sounded strange in the 
 ears O'f the Southern nobles. The Duke of Newcastle having de- 
 manded to know with what kind of shot the guard which Porteous 
 commanded had loaded their muskets, was answe'red naively, 'Ow, 
 Just sic as ane shoots dukes and fools with.' This reply was consid- 
 ered as a contempt of the House of Lords, and the Provost would 
 have suffered accordingly, but that the Duke of Argyle explained 
 that the expression, properly rendered in English, means ducks and 
 wa/terfowl. 
 
638 WA VEBLE T ITO VELS 
 
 XOTH 24.— SIR WILUAM DICK OF BRAID, p. 18< 
 
 This gentleman formed a striking example of the instability of 
 human prosperity. He was once the wealthiest man of his time In 
 Scotland, a merchanit in an extensive line of cammerce, and a farmer 
 of the public revenue; insomuch that, about 1640, he estimated his for- 
 tune at £200,000 sterling. Sir William Dick was a zealous Cov^anter, 
 and in the memorable year 1641 he lent the Scottish Convention of 
 Estates one hundred thousand merks ait once, and thereby enabled 
 them to support and pay their army, which must otherwise have 
 broken to pieces. He afterwards advanced £20,000 for the service of 
 King Charles, during the usurpation; and having, by owning the royal 
 cause, provoked the displeasure of the. ruling party, he was fleeced of 
 more money, amounting in all to £65,000 sterling. 
 
 Being in this mannei; reduced to indigence, he went to London to 
 try to recover some part of the sums which had been lent on govern- 
 ment security. Instead of receiving any satisfaction, the Scottish 
 Croesus was "thrown into prison, in which he died 19th December, 1655. 
 It is said his death was hastened by the want of common necessaries. 
 But this statement is somewhat exaggerated, if it be true, as is com- 
 monly said, that, though he was not supplied with bread, he had 
 plenty of pie-crust, thence called "Sir William Dick's necessity." 
 
 The chansres of fortune are commemorated in a folio pamphlet. 
 entitled The Lamentable Estate and Distressed Case of Sir Williami 
 Dick [1656.1 It contams several copperplates, one representing Sir 
 William on horseback, and attended with guards as Lord Provost of 
 Edinburgh, superintending the unloading of one of his rich argosies; 
 a second exhibiting him as arrested and in the hands of the baliffs; a 
 third presents him dead In prison. The tract is esteemed highly valu- 
 abQe by collectors of prints. The only copy I ever saw upon sale was 
 rated at £30. 
 
 NOTE 25.— MEETING AT TAT J. A LINNS, p. 190 
 
 This remarkable convocationi took place upon loth June, 1682, and 
 an account of its confused and divisive proceedings may be found in 
 Michael Shields' s Faithful Contendings Displayed. Glasgow, 1780, p. 
 21. It affords a singular and melancholy example how much a meta- 
 physical and polemical spirit had crept in amongst these unhappy suf- 
 ferers, since, amid so many real injuries whicli they had to sustain, 
 they were disposed to add disagreement and disunion concerning the 
 ohairacter and extent of such as were only imaginary. 
 
 NOTE' 26.— D00M3TER OR DEMPSTER OF COURT, p. 236 
 
 The name of this officer is equivalent to the pronouncer of doom 
 or sentence. In this comprehensive sense, the judges of the Isle of 
 Man were called Dempsters. But in Scotland the word was long re- 
 stricted to the designation of an official person, whose duty is was to 
 recite the sentence after it had been pronounced by th© Court, and 
 recorded by the clerk; on which occasion the Dempster legalized it 
 tlie words of form, 'And this I pronounce for doom.' For a length 
 of years, the office, as mentioned in the text, was held in commendam 
 with tha.t of the executioner; for when this odious but necessary offi- 
 cer of justice received his appointment he petitioned the Court of 
 Justiciary to be received as their dempster, which was granted as a 
 matter of course. 
 
 The production of the executioner in open court, and in presence 
 of the wretchSd criminal, had something in it hideous and disgusting 
 to the more refined feelings of later times. But if an old tradition of 
 the Parliament House of Edinburgh may be. trusted, it was the fol- 
 lowing anecdote which occasioned the disuse of the dempster's 
 office: — 
 
 It chanced at one time that the office of public executioner was 
 vacant. There was occasion for some one to act as dempster, and, 
 considering the party who generally held the office, it is not wonder- 
 ful that a locum tenens was hard to be found. At length one Hume, 
 Who had been sentenced to transportation for an attempt to burn his 
 
WOTES B39 
 
 ow^. house. v^-as Induced to consent 'that he wou'ld pro- 
 nounce the doom on t'his occasion. But when brought forth to 
 officiate, instead of repeating the doom to the criminal, Mr. Hume 
 addressed himself to their lordships In a bitter complaint of the in- 
 justice of his own sentence. It was in vain that he was interrupted, 
 and reminded of the purp'ose for which he had come hither. 'I kea 
 what ye want of me weel enough,' said the fellow, 'ye want me to b© 
 your dempster; but I am come to be none of your dempster; I am 
 
 come to summon you, Lord T , and you. Lord B , to answer at 
 
 the bar of another world for the injustice you have done me In this.' 
 In short, Hume had only nude a pretext of complying with the pro- 
 posal, in order to have an opportunity of reviling the Judges to their 
 faces] or giving them, in the phrase of his country, 'a sloan." He 
 was hurried off amid the laughter of the audience, but the indecorous 
 scene which had taken place contributed to the abolition of the ofhce 
 of dempster. The sentence is now read over by the clerk of the 
 court, and the formality of pronouncing doom is altogether 
 omitted. — 
 
 The usage of calling the dempster into court by the ringing of a 
 hand bell, to repeat the sentence on a criminal, is said to have been 
 abrogated in Maroh, 1773 (Laing). 
 
 NOTE 27.— JOHN DUKE OF ARGYLE AND GREENWJCH, p. 239 
 
 This nobleman was very dear to his countrymen, who were justly 
 proud of his military and political talents, and grateful for the ready 
 zeal with which he asserted tiie rights of his native country. This 
 was never more conspicuous than in the matter of the Porteous Mob, 
 when the Ministers brought in a violent and vindictive bill for de- 
 claring the Lord Provost of Edinburgh incapable of bearing any pub- 
 lic ofttce in future for not foreseeing a disorder which no one foresaw, 
 or interrupting the course of a liot too formidable to endure opposition. 
 The same bill made provision for pulling down the city gates and 
 abolishing the city guard,— rather a Hibernian mode of enabling them 
 better to keep the peace within burgh in future. 
 
 The Duke of Argyle opposed this bill as a cruel, unjust and 
 fanatical proceeding, and an encroachment upon the privileges of the 
 royal burghs of Scotland, secured to them by the treaty of Union. 
 'In all the proceedings of that time,' said his Grace, 'the nation of 
 Scotland treated with the English as a free and independent people; 
 and as that treaty, my lords, had no further guarantee for the due 
 performance of its articles but the faith and honour of a British Par- 
 liament, it would be both unjust and ungenerous should this House 
 agree to any proceedings that have a tendency to injure it.' 
 
 Lord Hardwicke, in reply to the Duke of Argyle, seemed to Insin- 
 uate that his Grace had taken up the affair in a party point of view, 
 to which the nobleman replied in the spirited language quoted in the 
 text. Lord Hardwicke apologized. The bill was much modified, and 
 the clauses concerning the dismantling the city and disbanding the 
 guard were departed from. 
 
 A fine of £2,000 was imposed on the city for the benefit of Porteus's 
 widow. She was contented to accept three-forrths of the sum. the 
 payment of which closed the transaction. It is remarkable that in 
 our day the magistrates of Edinburgh have had recourse to both 
 those mea? ures. held in such 'horror by their predecessors, as neces- 
 sary steps for the improvement of the city. 
 
 It may be here noticed, in explanation o* another circumstance 
 mentioned in the text, that there is a tradition in Scotland that 
 George IT., whose irascible temper is said sometimes to have 
 hurried him into expressing his disnleasure par vole du 
 fait, offered to the Duke of Argyle, in angry audience, some 
 menace of this nature, on which (he left the presence in high disdain, 
 and with little ceremony. Sir Rohert Walpole. having met the Duka 
 as he retired and learning the cause of his resentment and discom- 
 posure, rn.ieavored to reconcile him to what had happened by saying. 
 Such was his Majesty's way, and that he often took such liberties 
 with himself without meaning any harm.' This did not mend matters 
 in MacOallummore's eyes, who replied, in great disdain, 'Tou will 
 please to remember. Sir Robert, the infinite distance there Is betwixt 
 
540 WA VERLE Y NO VELS 
 
 you an<1 me.' Another frequent expression of passion on fhe part 0( 
 the same monarch is alluded to in Dhe old Jacobite aong: 
 The flre shall get both hat and wig, 
 As o£t times they've got a' tha;t. 
 
 NOTE 28.— MURDER OF THE TWO SHAWS, », 242 
 
 In 1828, the Author presented to the Rox'burgh Club a curious vol- 
 ume conltaining- the Proceedings in the CourtJMartial held upon John, 
 Master of Sinclair . . . for the Murder of Ensign Schaw . . . 
 and Captain Schaw . . . 17th October 1708 (Laing). 
 
 NOTE 29.— BORROWING DAYS, p. 275 
 
 The three last days of >Ma.rch, lold style, are called the Borrowing 
 Days; for, as they are remarked to be unusually stormy, it is feigned 
 that March had borrowed them fr'om Aipril, to extend the sphere of 
 his rougher sway. The rhyme o'n the subject is quoted in Leyden's 
 edition oi the Coimpiaynt of Scotland.— 
 
 March said to Aperill 
 
 I see three hogs upun a hill: 
 
 Bjt when the borrowed days were gane. 
 The three silly hogs cams hirplin' hame. 
 
 (Laing.) 
 
 NOTE 30.— BUCKHOLMSIDE CHEESE, p. 379 
 
 The hilly pastures of Buckholm, whicb the Author now surveys. 
 
 Not in the frenzy of a dreamer's eye, 
 are famed for producing the best ewe-milk cheese an the souith of 
 Scotland. 
 
 NOTE 31.— EXPULSION OF THE BISHOPS FROM THE SCOTTISH CONVENTION, 
 
 B. 391 
 
 For some time after the (Scottish Convention had commenced its 
 sittings, the Scottish prelates retained their seats, and said prayers by- 
 rotation to the meeting, until the character of the Convention became, 
 through Ithe secession of Dundee, decidedly iresbytcrian. Occasion 
 was then ttiken on the Bishop of Ross mentioning King James in his 
 prayer, as him for whom they watered their couch with tears — on this 
 the Convention exclaimed, they had no occasion for spiritual lords, 
 and commanded the bishops to depart and return no more, Mont- 
 gomery of Skelmorley breaking at the same time a coarse jest upon 
 the scriptural expression used iby Ithe prelate. Davie Deans's oracle, 
 Fatrlck Walker, gives this account of their dismission:— 'When they 
 came out, soime o'f the Convention said they iwished that the honest 
 lads knew Ithat they /were put out, for then they would not win away 
 with hael [whole] gowns. All the fourteen gathered together with pal© 
 faces and stood in a cloud in the Parliament Close. James W'iison, 
 Rcbert Neilson, Francis Hislop. and myself were standing close by 
 them. Francis Hislop with force thrust Robert 'Neilsnn upon them; 
 their heads went hard upon one another. But there being so many 
 enemies in the city fretting and gnashing their teeth, waiting .for an 
 occasion to raise a mob, where undoubtedly /blood would have been 
 shed, and we having laid down conclusions among ourselves 'to guard 
 against giving the least occasion to all mobs, kept us from tearing of 
 their gowns. 
 
 "Their graceless Graces (went quickly of. ant! neither "bishop nor 
 curate was seen in the streets; this was a surprising sudden change 
 not to be forgdtten. Some of us ^would have rejoiced more than in 
 great sums to have seen these ibishopg sent legally down the Bow, 
 that they mig'ht have found the weight of their tails In a (tow to dry 
 their hose-soles; that they might know 'what hanpr'ing was, they hav- 
 y-ig been active for themselves, and the maiii Instigators to all th* 
 
NOTES Ml 
 
 mischiefs, cruelties, and bloodshed of that time, wherein the streets otf 
 
 E'clinburgh and other places o'f the land did ruu with tlie innocent, 
 precious dear blood of the Lord's people.'— Life and Death of three 
 famous Worthies (Semple, etc.), by Patrick Walker, Edln 1727, pp. 
 72, 73. 
 
 NOTE 32.— HAliF-HANGED MAGGIE DICKSON, p. 399 
 
 In the statistical Account of the Parish of Inveresk (vol. xvi. p. 
 34), Dr. Carlyle says, 'No person has been convicted of a capital fel- 
 ony since the year 1728, when the famous Maggy Dickson was con- 
 demned and executed for child-murder in the Grassmarkct of Bdin- 
 Lturgh, and was restored to life in a car't on her way ho Musselburg-h 
 to be buried . . . She kept an ale-house in a neighboring parish for 
 many >ears after she came to life again, which was niucn rcborted tu 
 from curiosity.' After the body was cut down and handed over to her 
 relatives, her revival is aDDributed to tlie jolting o'l tiie curt, and ac- 
 cording to Rotoert Chambers— taking a retired road to .Uusselburgh, 
 'they stopped near Peffer-mlll to get a dram; and when they came 
 out from tlie house to resume itlivir journey, 'Mag^'ie was sitting up in 
 the cart.' Among the poems of Alexander Pennecuick, who died in 1730 
 (1722), is one entitled 'The Merry Wives of Musselburgh's Welcome to 
 Meg- Dickson;' while anotiher broadside, without any date or au- 
 thor's name, is called 'Alargaiet Dickson's Penitential Confession.' 
 containing these lines refernua to her couviction; 
 
 Who found me guilty of that barbarous crime, 
 Ami did, by law, end this wretched life of mine; 
 iiul God . . . did me preserve, etc. 
 
 In another of these ephemeral productio.ns hawked about th« 
 
 streets, called 'A Ballad by J— n B s,' are the following lines; 
 
 Please peruse the speecli 
 Of ill-hanged Maggy Dickson. 
 Ere slie was strung, the wicked wife 
 
 Was sainted by the fiamen tpriest), 
 'Bait now, since slie's returu'd to life. 
 Some say she's the old samen. 
 In his reference to Maggie's calling 'salt' after her recovery, th© 
 Author would appear to be alluding to another character, wh(j went 
 by the name of 'saut Maggie,' and is represented in one or more old 
 etchings about 1790 (Laiing). 
 
 NOTE 33.— MADGiE WltDFIRE, 9. 403 
 
 In taking leave of the poor maniac, the Aulthor may oibserve that 
 the first conception of the character, though afterwards greatly 
 altered, was taken from that of a person calling herself, and called 
 by others i'eckless Fannie [weak or feeble Fannie], who always trav- 
 elled with a small flock of sheep. The following account, furnisihed 
 by the persevering kindness of Mr. Train, contains probably all that 
 can now be known of her history, though many, among: whom is the 
 Author, may remember having heard of Feckless Fannie in the days 
 of Oheir youth. 
 
 'My leisure hours,' says Mr. Train, 'for some time past have been 
 mostly ayint in searching for particulars relating to the maniac 
 called Feckless Fannie, who travelled 'over all Scotland and England, 
 between the years 1767 and 1775, and whose history is altogether so 
 like a romance, that I have been at all possible pains to collect every 
 particular ;tliat can be found relative to her in Gaaoway or in Ayr- 
 S!hire. 
 
 'W'hen Feckless Fannie appeared in Ayrshire, for the first time. 
 In the summer of 1769, she attracted much notice from being attended 
 by twelve or thirteen sheep, .who seemed all endued witli faculties so 
 much superior to the ordinary race of animals of the same species as 
 to excite universal astonishment. She had for each a different name, 
 to which it answered when called by its mistress, and would likewise 
 obey in the most surprising manner any command she thought proper 
 to give. When travelling, she always walked in front of her flock, 
 9/dA they followed her closely behind. When she lay down at night in 
 
M8 WA VERLE F NO VELS 
 
 the fields, for* she would never enter into a house, they always dis- 
 puted who should lie next to lier, by which means she was kept 
 warm. whiGe she. lay in the midst of t'hem; when she attempted to 
 rise from the ground, an old ram. Whose name was Charlie, always 
 claimed the sole right of assisting her; pushing- any that stood in his 
 way aside, until he arrived right before his mistress; he t'hen bowed 
 h'is head nearly to the ground that she might lay her hands on his 
 horns, which were very large; 'he then lifted her gently from the 
 ground by raising his head. If she chanced to leave her flock feeding, 
 as soon as they discovered slie was gone, ihey all began to bleat most 
 piteousJy, and would continue it!o do so until she returned; they would 
 then testify their joy by rubbing their sides against toer petticoat, and 
 frisking about. 
 
 'I eckless Fannie was not, like most other demented creatures, 
 fond of fine dress; on her head she wore an old slouched hat, over 
 her shoulders an old pla.d, and carried always in her hand a shep- 
 ard's crook; with any of these articles slie invariably declared she 
 would not part for any consideration whatever. When she was in- 
 terrogated why she set so much value on things seemingly so insig- 
 nificant, she would sometimes relate the history of her rnisfortune, 
 which was briefly as follows: — ^ 
 
 ' "I am the only daughter of a wealthy squire in the north of Eng- 
 land, but I loved my father's shepard, and that has been my ruin; for 
 my father, fearing his family would be disgraced by such an alliance, 
 in a passion mortally wounded my lover with a shot from a pistol. I 
 arrived just in time to receive the last blessing of the dying man, 
 and to close his eyes in death. He bequeathed me his little all, but I 
 only accepted these shi-'ep to be my sole companions through lil'e, aiul 
 this hat, this plaid, and this crook, all of which I will carry until I 
 descend into tlie grave." 
 
 'This is the substance of a ballad, eighty-four lines of which I 
 copied down lately from, the recitation of an old woman in this place, 
 who says she has seen it in (print, with a plate on the title page rep- 
 resenting Fannie with her sheep behind her. As this ballad is said tG 
 have bean written by Lowe, the au'thor of ""Mary's Dream." J am 
 surprised that it has not been noticed by Cromek in his Remains or 
 Nithsdale and Galloway Song; but he perhaps thought it unworthy 
 of a place in his collection, as there is very little merit in the compo- 
 sition; which want of room prevents me from transcribing at present. 
 But if I thought you had never seen it, I wonld take- an early oppor- 
 tunity of doing so. 
 
 'After having made the tour of Galloway in 1769. as Fannie was 
 wandering in the neig-tiborhood of Mofl'at. on her way to Edinburgh, 
 where, I am informed, she was likewise well known. Old Charlie, fier 
 favorite ram, chanced to break into a kale-yard, which the proprietor 
 observing, let loose a mastiff, that hunted the poor sheep lO' death. 
 This was a sad misfortune; it seemed to renc v.' all the pangs which 
 she 'formerly felt on the death of her lover. She would not part from 
 the side of her old friend for several days, and it was with much 
 diffloulty she consented to allow 'him to be burlel; but. still wishing 
 to pay a tribute to his memory, she covered his grave with moss, 
 and fenced it round wi'th osiers, and annually returned tO' the same 
 soot, and pulled the weeds from the grave and repaired the fence. 
 This is altogether like a romance; but I believe that it is really true 
 that she did so. The grave 'of Charlie is still held sacred even by the 
 schoolboys of the present day in that quarter. It is now, perhap.?, 
 the only instance of the law of Kenneth being atte.ided to, which 
 says, "The grave where anie that is slaine lieth 'buried, leave untilled 
 for seven years. Repute every grave iholie so as 'thou be well advised, 
 that in no wise with thy feet thou tread upon it." 
 
 'Through the storms of winter, as well as in the milder season o' 
 the year, she continued her wandering course, nor could she be pre- 
 vented from doing so. either by entreaty or promise of reward. The 
 late Dr. Fullarton of Rosemount, In the neighbourhood of Ayr. being 
 ■well acquainted with her ifather when in England, endeavoured, in a, 
 severe seaso'n. by every means in his power^ to detain her at Rose- 
 ■snount for a few days until the weather should become more mild; bn' 
 when she found herself rested a little, and saw her sheep fed. sb* 
 raised her crook, which was the signal she always gave for the <heep 
 to follow her, and off they all marched together. 
 
KOTEB 643 
 
 •But the hour of poor Pannie's dissolution was '»ow at hand, and 
 she seemed anxious to arrive, at tl^e spot where sh;'. .;ras ,tG terminate 
 her mortal career. She proceeded ty Glasgow, Ai',''., while passing 
 through that city, a crowd of idle boys, 'attractwi by her singular 
 appearance, together with the novelty of seeing so .iiwny .sheep obey- 
 ing her command, begaji to torment her with their pranks, till she 
 became so irritated that she pelted them with brtihs and stones, 
 which they returned in such a manner that she was actuaJly stoned 
 to death between Glasgow and Anderston. 
 
 'To the real history of this singular mdividual, prtdulity has at- 
 tached several superstitious appendages. It is said tlvst the farmer 
 who was the cause of Charlie's death shortly afterwards drowned 
 himself in a peat-hag; and that the hand with which a butcher in 
 Kilmarnock struck one of the other sheep became p<"v/erless, and 
 withered to the very bone. In the summer of 1769. when she was 
 passing by New Cumnock, a young man, whose name was VV illiam 
 Forsyth son of a farmer in the same parish, plagued her so much 
 that she wished he might never see the morn; upon which he went 
 home and hanged himself in his father's barn. And 1 doubt not 
 many such stories may yet he remembered in other pirts where 
 
 she had been." , ,, . .,.. „ • j.. ^i, ^ 
 
 So far Mt Train. The Author can only add to this na'^--ative, that 
 
 Feckless Fannie and her little flock were well known in \lts pastoral 
 
 In attempting to introduce such a character into Rcilon, the 
 Author felt the risk o'f encountering a comparison with the Maria 
 of Sterne; and. besides, the mechanism of the story would have been 
 as much retarded by Feckless Fannie's flock as the night march of 
 Don Quixote was delayed by Sancho's tale of the sheep that were 
 ferried over the river. . , ^. ^ 
 
 The Author has only to add that, notwithstanding the preciseness 
 of his friend Mr. Train's statement, there may be some hopes that 
 the outrage on Feckless Famnie and her little flock was not carried 
 to extremity. There is no mention of any trial on account of it, 
 which, had it occurred in the manner slated, would liave certainly 
 taken place; and the Author has understood that it was on the Bor- 
 der she was last seen, about the skirts of the Cheviot Hills, but With- 
 out her little flock. 
 
 NOTE 34.— SHAWPIELD'S iTOB. p. 407 
 
 In 1725 there was a great Hot in Glasgow on account of the malt 
 tax. Among the troops broucnt in to restort order was one of th« 
 independent comipanies of Highlanders levied in Argyleshire. and dis- 
 tinguished in a lampoon of the period as 'CampbMI of Carrick and 
 his Highland thieves.' It was called ©hawfleid's Moib. because much 
 of the popular violence was directed against Daniel Campbell, Esq., ot 
 Shawfield, M. P., provost of the town. 
 
 NOTE 35.— DEATH OF FRANCIS GORDON, p. 428 
 
 This exploit seems to 'have been one In whichPatrick Walker prided 
 himself not a, little; and there is reason to fear that that excellent 
 person would have highly resented the attempt to associate another 
 with him in the slaughter of a King's Life Guardsman. Indeed, he 
 would have 'had the more right to be offended at losing any share ot 
 the glory, since the party against Gordon was already three to one, 
 besides having the advantage of firearms. The manner in which he 
 vindicates his claim to the exploit, without committing himself by a 
 direct statement of it, is not a little amusing. It is as follows:— 
 
 'I shall give a brief and true account of that man's death, which I 
 did not design to do while I 'was upon the s^tage. I resolve, indeed 
 (if the Lord will), to leave a more full account of that and many 
 other remarkable steps of the Lord's dispensations towards me 
 thoroiw my life. It was then commonly .said that Francis Gordon was 
 a volunteer out of wickedness of principles, and could not stay wit/k 
 the troDp, but was still raging and ranging to catch hiding .suffering 
 people. Meldrum and Airly's troops lyins at Lanark upon the first 
 day of March, 1682. Mr. Gordon and another wicked comrade. w4tb 
 
544 wav:erl£;y novels 
 
 the/1 two servants and four horses, came to Kilcaigow, two mllee 
 from Lanark, searching- for William Oai'grow and others under hiding. 
 Mr. Gordon, rambling throw the town, offered to abuse the women. 
 At night, they came a mile further to tihe easter seat, to Robert 
 iMuir's, he being also under hiding. G-ordon's comrade and the two 
 servanits went to bed, but he could sleep none, roaring all night for 
 women. When day came, he took only his sword in his hand, ancj 
 came to Moss-platt, and some men [who had been in the fields all 
 night] seeing him, they fled, and he pursued. Jame^ Wilson, Thomas 
 Young, and myself, having been in a meeting all night, were lyen 
 down in the morning. We were alarmed, thinking theire were many 
 mo than one; he pursued hard, and overtook us. Thomas Young said, 
 "Sir, what do ye pursue us for?" He said, "He was come to eend us 
 to hell." James Wilson said, "That shall not be, for we will defend 
 ourselves." He said, "That either he or we should go to it now." He 
 run his sword furiously 'thorow James Wilson's coat. James flred 
 upon him, but missed him. All the time he cried, "Damn his soul!" 
 He got a shot in his head 'out of a pocket pistol, .rather fit for divert- 
 ing a boy than killing such a furious, mad, brisk man, which, not- 
 withstanding killed him dead. The foreisaid William Caigow and 
 Robert Muir came to us. We searched him for papers, and found a 
 long scroll of sufferers' names, either to kill or take. I tore it all in 
 pieces. He had also some Popish books and bonds of money, wi'th one 
 dollar, which a poor man took off the ground; all which we put in his 
 pocket again. Thus, he 'was four miles from Lanark, and near a 
 mile from his comrade, seeking his own death, and got it. And for as 
 much as we have been condemned for this, I could never see how any 
 one could condemn us that allows of self-defence, which the laws 
 both of God and nature allow to every creature. For my own part, 
 my heart never smote me for this. When I saw his blood run, I 
 wished that all the 'blood of the Lord's etated and avowed enemies in 
 Scotland had been in his veins. Having such a clear call and oppor- 
 tunity, I would have rejoiced to Ihave ;seen it all gone out with a gush. 
 I have many times wondered at the greater part of the indulged, luke- 
 warm ministers and ^professors in that time, who made more noiee of 
 murder when one of these enemies has been killed, even in our own 
 defence, than of twenty of us 'being murdered by them. None of t'hese 
 men present was challenged for this but myself. Thomas Young there- 
 after suffered at Machline. but was not challenged for this; Rob- 
 ert Muir was banished; J'ames Wilson outlived the persecution; 
 William Caigow died in the Canongate tolbooth. in the beginning- of 
 1685. Mr. Wodrow is misinformed, who eays that he suffered unto 
 death' (pp. 165-167). 
 
 NOTE 36.— TOLLING TO SERVIOE IN SCOTLAND, p. 445 
 
 In the old days of Scotland, when ipersons of property, unless they 
 happened to be nonjurors, were as regular as 'their inferiors in at- 
 tendance on parochial worship, there was a kind of etiquette in wait- 
 ing till the patron or acknowledged great man of the parich should 
 make his appearance. This ceremonial iwas so sacred in the eyes of 
 a parish beadle in the Isle of Bute, that the kirk bell ibeing out of 
 order, he is said to have mounted the steeple every Sunday, to imitate 
 with his voice tihe successive summonses Which its mouth of metal 
 used to send forth. The first part of this imitative iharmony was 
 simplj' the repetition of the words 'BeH bell, beil ibell,' two or three 
 times, in a manner as much resembling the sound ae throat of flesh 
 could imitate throat of iron. 'Bellum! bellum!' was sounded forth in 
 a more urgent manner; but he never sent forth the tlhird and con- 
 clusive peal, the varied tone of which is called in Scotland the 'ring- 
 ing-in,' until the two principal heritors of the parish approached, 
 when the chimes ran thus:— 
 
 Bellum Bellellum, 
 
 Bernera and Knoekdow's coming! 
 Bellum Bellellum, 
 
 Bernera and Knoekdow's coming! 
 Thereby Intimating' that service was instan'tly to proceed.— 
 
 Mr. Macinlay of Borro'wstounness, a native of Bute, states that 
 Ulr Walter Scott had this story from Sir Adam Ferguson; but that 
 
JSrOTES 646 
 
 the gallant knight had not given the lairds' titles correctly— the oell- 
 man'g greait men being Craich, Drumibuie, and Barnernie.— 1842 
 (Laine). 
 
 NOTE 37.— RATCLIFFE. p. 502 
 
 There seems an anachronism in the history of this person. Rat- 
 cTiffe, among other escaipes from justice, was released 'by the Por 
 teous mob iwhen under sentence of death; and he was again under the. 
 same predicament when the Hig^hlanders made a similar jail-delivery 
 in 1745. He was too sincere a Whig to embrace liberation at the hands 
 of the Jacobites, and in reward was made one of the keepers of the 
 tolbooith. So at least runs a constant tradition. 
 
GLOSSARY 
 OF 
 
 WORDS, PHRASES, AND ALLUSIONS. 
 
 ABUNE. ABOON. aboTe 
 
 ACQUEXT, aoquaJnte.i 
 
 AD AVISA^DUM, reserved 
 for consideration 
 
 ADJOURNAL., BOOKS OF 
 See 'Books of Adjournal 
 
 ADMrNIC,L.E, a eollateraj 
 proof 
 
 AGAIN, in time £or. be- 
 fore 
 
 AIN, own 
 
 AIR, early 
 
 AIRD'S 'MOSS, the s.ene 
 of a skirmish in Ayr- 
 shire, on 20th July 1680 
 
 AIRN, iron 
 
 AIRT, to direct, point out 
 the way 
 
 AITH, oath 
 
 AITS, oats 
 
 AX.LENARLT. solely 
 
 A-LOW, on lire 
 
 ALTRINGHAM, THE 
 
 MAYOR OF (p. 439). a 
 well-known Cheshire pro- 
 verb 
 
 AiMAIST, almost 
 
 ANCE, ANES. once 
 
 ANDRO PERRARA. a 
 Highland broadsword 
 
 AlNKER, 10 wine gallons 
 
 AN'SARS, helpers; particu- 
 larly those inhabitants 
 of Medina who he ped 
 Moha'mmel when he Hed 
 from Mecca 
 
 ANTI-JACOBIN, George 
 Canning, the statesman, 
 in whose burlesque play. 
 The Rovers; or. Double 
 Arrangement, printed in 
 The Anti-Jacobin, the 
 ghost of P*rologue's, not 
 the Author's, gr.xnL;- 
 raother appears 
 
 AQUA MIRABIUS, the 
 wonderful water, a cor- 
 dial made of spirits of 
 wine and spices 
 
 ARGYLE, EiARL OF, HIS 
 ATTEMPT OP 1686. his 
 rising in Scotland in 
 
 suport of Monmouth in 
 1685 
 
 AKNISTON CHIlilJ). Rob- 
 ert Dundas of Arniston, 
 the elder, succeeded 
 Duncan Forbes of Cullo- 
 den as Lord President in 
 1748 
 
 lVRRIAGE AND CAR- 
 RIAGE, a phrase in old 
 Scotch leases, but bear- 
 ing no precise meaning 
 
 ASSEMWL.Y OF DIVINES, 
 the Westminster Confes- 
 sion of Faith, which. 
 with the Longer and 
 Shorter Catechisms, con- 
 stitute the standanis of 
 doctrine of the Presby- 
 terians 
 
 ARTES P'ERDITAE, lost 
 arts 
 
 AUGHT, eight; AUGHTY- 
 NINB, the year 1689 
 
 AUGHT, p\jssesBiOn 
 
 AULD, old; AULD SOR- 
 ROW, old wretch 
 
 AVA, at all 
 
 AVVMOUS, alms 
 
 AW'MRIE, the cupboard 
 
 BACK-CAST, a reverse, 
 misfortune 
 
 •BACK-FRIEND, a .sup- 
 porter, abettor 
 
 BALFOUR'S PRAC- 
 
 TIQUES; OR A SYSTEM 
 OF THE MORE AN- 
 CIENT LAW O'F SCOT- 
 LAND 11754). by Sir 
 James Balfour, Presi- 
 dent of the Court of Ses- 
 sion in 1567 
 
 BAND, bond 
 
 BARK, BAWTTB. Compare 
 Sir D. Lindsay's Com- 
 playnt of Bagsche . . . 
 to Bawtie, the King's 
 Best Belovit Dog 
 
 BARKENED, tanned 
 
 BARON BAILIE, the 
 
 baxon's deputy in a 
 547 
 
 burgh of barony 
 
 'liArHER, to latlgue by 
 ceaseless prating 
 
 BAiULD, brave, hardy 
 
 BAUSON-FACED, having 
 a white spot on the lo.»- 
 head 
 
 B'AWBEB, a halfpenny 
 
 BAXTER, a baker 
 
 BEAN-HOOL, beau-hull, 
 pod 
 
 BEOHOUNCHBD, be- 
 
 flounced. decked out in 
 ridiculous fashion 
 
 BEDRAL. beadle, sexton 
 BEDREDDIN HASSAN. 
 
 See Arabian Nights: 
 'Noureddin and his 
 Son' 
 BEEVER, Belvoir, the seat 
 of the Duke of Rutland, 
 on the border of Leices- 
 tershire 
 
 BELYVE, directly 
 
 BEND-LEATHER, thick 
 sole-leather 
 
 BENEFIT OF CLERGY, 
 the right to claim, like 
 the clergy, exemption 
 £j«m the civil courts 
 
 BEN THE HOUSE, in- 
 side, into the inner 
 room 
 
 BESS OP BEDL.\)M, a fe- 
 male lunatic. 
 
 BESTIAL, horned catJe. 
 
 BICKEiR, a wooden ves- 
 sel. 
 
 BIDE, wait, stay; bear, 
 rest under; BIDE A 
 WEE, wait a hiinuto. 
 
 BIEN, comfortable 
 
 BIGOONETS. a lady's 
 headdress 
 
 BIKE, a hive, swarm 
 
 BINK, a wall plate-rack 
 
 BIRKIE, a lively fellow," 
 young spark 
 
 BIRTHNIGHT, the court 
 festival held on the 
 evening ol a roval 
 blrttidar 
 
548 
 
 WA VERLET NO VELS 
 
 BITTOCK. .1 little bit, 
 proverbially a consider- 
 able distance 
 
 BLACK, DR. DAVID, a 
 zealous Scottish Presby- 
 terian in the reign of 
 James VI. 
 
 BL.AIR. ROBERT, a prom- 
 inent Presbyterian min- 
 ister, of Bangor in Irc- 
 lana 
 
 'BLINK, a glance 
 
 r.LUE PLiU.MS, bullets 
 
 BLiUIDY MACKENZIE, 
 
 Sir George, Lord Advo- 
 c«.te, and an active 
 prosecutor of the Cam- 
 eronians in the reign 
 of Charles II. 
 
 BOODLE, 1-6 of a penny 
 
 BOBIE, the lowest schol- 
 ar on the form, a dunce 
 
 BOOK.S OF ADJiH'RN.i.L, 
 containing the minutes 
 and orders, especially of 
 adjoum.Tl, ol' the Court 
 of Judiciary of Scotlam', 
 it being a peremptory 
 court 
 
 BOOT-HOSE, coarse blue 
 ■worsted hose worn in 
 place of boots 
 
 BOUKIXG-WASHI'.NG, the 
 annual washing of the 
 family linen in a. pecu- 
 lar ley (bouk) 
 
 BOUNTITH, a perquisite 
 
 BOUROCK, a mound, hil- 
 lock 
 
 BOW, a boll (measure) 
 
 BOW-HEAD, leading 
 
 from the High Street to 
 the Grassmarket in 
 Edinburgh 
 
 BOWIE, a milk^pail 
 
 BRA'W. orave, fine, good; 
 BRAWS, fine clothes 
 
 BRECHAM, collar of a 
 oant-horse 
 
 BROCKIT (COW). With a 
 speckled face 
 
 BROOrE, a highland 
 shoe 
 
 BROO, taste tor, opinion 
 of 
 
 BROSE, oatmeal over 
 wbich boiling water has 
 been poured 
 
 eRUCE, ROBERT, of Ed- 
 innurgh, a champion of 
 spiritual authority in 
 the reign of James VI. 
 
 BRUGH AND LAND, town 
 and country 
 
 BRUILaiE, a scuffle, tu- 
 mult 
 
 BRUNSTANE, brimstone, 
 sulphur 
 
 BUOKHOLMSUDE, a vil- 
 lage of Roxburgshire 
 close to Galashiels 
 
 BULLER, to bellow 
 
 BULL OF PHAUARIS, nn 
 invention for roasting 
 people alive, devised by 
 Phalaris, ruler of Agri- 
 gentum in ancient Sic- 
 ily — so tradition 
 
 BULLiSEXJO, a gelded bull 
 
 BUSK, to dress up, ar- 
 range 
 
 BYE. besides; past 
 
 iBYiRE, cow-house, cow- 
 shed 
 
 CX' . to call 
 
 CAKSAREAN PROCESS, a 
 surgical operation to se- 
 cure delivery (as in the 
 case of Caesar) 
 
 CAG, a small cask 
 
 C.^IRD, a strolling tinker 
 
 OALEND.-^'R WANTING 
 AN EYE 
 
 See Arabian Nights: 
 •Story of the First Cal- 
 endar' 
 
 CALLANT, a lad 
 
 CALLER, fresh 
 
 CALLIVER-MBN, men 
 
 armed with muskets 
 
 CA.MBRIAN ANTIQUARY, 
 Thomas Pennant, the 
 traveller 
 
 CA.MPVERE SKIPPER, a 
 trader to Holland, Comp- 
 vere or Camphire, on the 
 Island of Walcheren, 
 was the seat of a privt- 
 lo ;c'l Scottish tr.oiint, 
 fac'torv from 1444 to 
 1795 
 
 C.\NNY, propitious, aus- 
 picous 
 
 OAXTY, mirthful. Jolly 
 
 CAPTION, a writ to im- 
 prison a debto"" 
 
 CARCAKE, or CARB- 
 OiVKE, a small cake 
 baked with eggs and 
 eaten on Shrove Tuesday 
 in Scotland 
 
 CARLE, a fellow 
 
 CARLINE, a belda'm. old 
 woman 
 
 CAROLINE PARK. Se« 
 Roystoun 
 
 CARRIED, ;he mind wav- 
 ering, wandering 
 
 CARRITOH, the Cate- 
 chism 
 
 CAST, lot fate; a throw; 
 a lift, ride 
 
 CAST-BYE, a castawav 
 
 CA' -THROW, an ado, a 
 row 
 
 CATO'S DAUGHTER, Por- 
 cia, wife of Brutus, who 
 stabbed Caesar 
 
 C.\TO THE CENSOR, the 
 celabrated Roman, wrote 
 a book about rural af- 
 fairs 
 
 CAULD, cold 
 
 CAULDRlPK, chillv 
 
 CAUTELOUS, cautious, 
 careful 
 
 CELA ETOIT AUTRE- 
 FOIS, etc. (p. 53S), it 
 used to be so, but we 
 have changed all that 
 now 
 
 CESSIO BONORU-M. sur- 
 render of effects 
 
 CHAFTS, jaws 
 
 CHALDEHS, an old dry 
 measure — nearly 16 qrs. 
 of com 
 
 CHAMBER OP DRAS, the 
 l>Ssl bedroom 
 
 CH.A.XfK-Ml^DLEY. an 
 
 undesignad occurrenca 
 not purely accidental 
 
 CHANOB- HOUSE, a small 
 inn 
 
 CHAPPIT, struck (of a 
 cloeK) 
 
 OHAPIT BACK, beaten, 
 deterred, daunted 
 
 CHEVERONS. gloves 
 
 CHIELD, a young fellow 
 
 CHOP, a sho" 
 
 CLACHAN, a Highland 
 hamlet 
 
 CLAISB, CLAES, 
 
 CLAITHS, clothes 
 
 CLARISSIMUS ICTUS, 
 
 one who is a famous 
 lawyer 
 
 CLiAT, a hoard of money 
 
 CLAVBRS, foolish gossip 
 
 CLiAW UP M'lTTBNS. to 
 rebuke severely, tell 
 home truths 
 
 CLBOKIT, hatched 
 
 CLiBEK, to catch, seize 
 
 CLBUGH, a ravine 
 
 CLOSE-HEAD, the en- 
 trance of a blind alley, 
 a favorite rendezvous for 
 gossips 
 
 CLUBBED (of hair), gath- 
 ered into a club-shaped 
 knot at the back of the 
 head 
 
 OLUTB, a hoof, single 
 beast 
 
 COCCEIAN, a follower of 
 John Cocceius of Leyden 
 (d. 1669), who held that 
 the Old Testament 
 shadowed forth the his- 
 tory of the ChristiaB 
 Church 
 
 COCKERiNONIE, a lady's 
 topknot 
 
 COD, a .pillow, cushion 
 
 COGNOSCE, to examine 
 judicially for insanity 
 
 OOLU-MELLA, a Roman 
 writer on agriculture and 
 similar topics 
 
 CO.M.ME'NTARIES ON 
 
 SCOTTISH ORr.MI.N.AL 
 JURISPRUDE.NCE, 1797. 
 by David Hume, Baron 
 of the Exchequer in Scot- 
 land 
 
 CO.VIUS, by Milton 
 
 CONDESCENDENCE, an 
 enumeration of particu- 
 lars, a Scots law term 
 
 CONFESSIO EXTRAJU- 
 DICIALIS, etc. (p. 242). 
 an unofficial confession 
 is a nullity, and cannot 
 be quoted In evidence 
 
 COUCH A HOGSHEAD, 
 to lie down to .sleep 
 
 COUP, to overturn; to 
 barter 
 
 COUTHY, agreeable, 
 
 pleasing 
 
 COWLEY'S COMPLAINT, 
 his poem with that ti- 
 tle, stanza 4 
 
k^LOSSARY 
 
 549 
 
 COWT. a colt 
 
 CRACK, gossip, talk 
 
 CRAFT, a croft, small 
 farm 
 
 CRAIGMILLAR. a cai-tle 
 near Edinburgh, a resi- 
 dence of Queen Mary 
 
 CREAGH, stolen cattle; 
 a foray 
 
 CREPE, to curl, crimo 
 
 CREWELS. CRUBLS. 
 
 scrofulous swellings on 
 the neck 
 
 CRIFFEL. a mountain on 
 the Scottish side of the 
 Solway. When Skiddaw 
 is capped with clouds, 
 rain falls soon alter 01 
 Crlffel 
 
 CRINING, pining 
 
 lOROOK A HOCGH. to 
 bend a joint, especially 
 the knee-joint 
 
 CRUPPEN. cri'pt 
 
 CUFFIN'. QUEiCR, a jus- 
 tice of peace 
 
 CUIVIS EX POPULO, 
 one of the people 
 
 CULL, a fool 
 
 CUMMER. a comrade, 
 gossip 
 
 CUMRAYS. or CUM- 
 BRAES. in the Firtii . f 
 Clyde 
 
 CURCH. a woman's cap 
 
 CU'ROSS, Culross. a vil- 
 lage on the Firth of 
 Forth 
 
 CURPEL, crupper 
 
 CUTTER'S LAW, thieves' 
 rogues' law 
 
 CUTTY QUEAN, a worth- 
 less young woman 
 
 DAFFING, frolicsome 
 
 jesting 
 
 DAFT, crazy, beside one- 
 self 
 
 DAIDLING. trifling; loi- 
 tering 
 
 DAIKER. to saunter, jo? 
 along 
 
 DALKEITH, one of the 
 seats of the Duke of 
 Buccleuch 
 
 DALLAS ON STILE' : 
 OR, SYSTEM OF 
 
 STILES AS NOW 
 
 PRATTICABLEI WITH- 
 IN THE KIXGnOM O ■' 
 SCOTLAND. 1697. bv 
 George Dallas, some- 
 time deputy-keeper 
 the privy seal of Scot- 
 land 
 
 DARG. a dar's work 
 
 DEAS. CHAMBER OF, 
 the best bedroom 
 
 DEAVE. to deafen 
 
 DEBITO TEMPORE. at 
 the proper time 
 
 DE DTE IN DIEM, from 
 day to day 
 
 DEEVIL'S BUCKIE, a 
 limb of Satan 
 
 DETL HAET, the devil a 
 bit 
 
 DEMENS. QUI NIMBOS. 
 etc. (p. 1), the mad- 
 man, who sought to ri- 
 val the rainclouds and 
 the inimitable thunder, 
 with brazen din and the 
 tread of horny-houled 
 steeds 
 
 DEMI-PIQUE SADDLE, 
 
 one with low peaks or 
 points 
 
 DING, to knock 
 
 DIN.VLE, a thrilling 
 blow 
 
 DIUL. a thrilling Iniork 
 
 DIT. to stop,, close up 
 (the mouth) 
 
 DITTAY, indictment 
 
 DIVOT, a thin flat turf; 
 DIVOT-CAST, a turf- 
 PU 
 
 DOCH AN' DORROCH. a 
 stirrup-cup, parting- 
 
 cup 
 
 DOER, an agent, factor 
 
 DO'ITED, stupid, con- 
 fused 
 
 DOXNARD, stupid 
 
 DONNOT. or DONAUGHT. 
 a good-for-nothing per- 
 son 
 
 DOO, a dove 
 
 DOOKIT, ducked 
 
 DOOMS, utterly 
 
 DOOR-CHEEK, the floor- 
 post 
 
 DOUBLE CARRITCH. the 
 Larger Catechism of the 
 Church of Scotland 
 
 DOUCE, quiet, resprct- 
 able 
 
 DOUGHT, was able to 
 
 DOUR, stubborn, obsti- 
 nate 
 
 DOW. to be able; DOW- 
 NA. do not like to 
 
 DREICH. slow. leisurely 
 
 DROW. a qualm 
 
 DRY MULTURE, a duty 
 of corn paid to a miller 
 
 DUDS. ragged clothes; 
 DUDDY. ragged 
 
 DULCIS AMARYLLini=? 
 IRAE. the anger of 
 Kentle woman 
 
 DUNCH. to jog or punch 
 
 DUNE GRANDE DAM'^. 
 of a great lady, lady of 
 fashion 
 
 DUNLOP (CHEESE), in 
 Ayrshire 
 
 DTTRK. or DIRK, a High- 
 lander's dagger 
 
 DYESTER, a dyer 
 
 ■ECLATRriSSEMENT, an 
 explan.Uion 
 
 EDICT NAUTAE, etc., in 
 ancient Rome, imposed 
 thoughtless person 
 liability for loss or dam- 
 age to property commit- 
 ted to carriers, innkeep- 
 ers, and stable-keepers 
 
 EE. eve; EEN. eves 
 
 EFFECTUAL CALLING. 
 See The Shorter Cata- 
 chicm, Qu. SI 
 
 EPFEIR OP. equivalent 
 to 
 
 EIK. to add 
 
 ELSHIN. an awl 
 
 CME, uncle 
 
 EMERY, JOHN. aotor 
 who excelled in rustic 
 parts, and played Dan- 
 die Dinmont. Ratcliffe, 
 and similar characters of 
 Sciitt's novels 
 
 ENBUCH, E N E U a H. 
 EXOW. enough 
 
 ENLEVEMENT, the ab- 
 'iuction of the heroine 
 
 ETHWALD, one of Joanna 
 B.iillie's Plays on the 
 Passions, this one turn- 
 ing on Ambition. The 
 passage is from Part I. 
 Act ill. Sc. 5 
 
 EXAUCTORATE. to dis- 
 miss from service 
 
 EX JURE SANGUINIS, 
 by blood, heredity 
 
 FAMA CLAMOSA, notori- 
 ety 
 
 FARINACEUS, or FARIN- 
 ACIUS, Prosper Farinae- 
 ci, a celebrated Roman 
 writer on criminal juris- 
 prudence, lived 1544-1611 
 
 FASH, trouble; to trou- 
 ble; FASHIOUS, trou- 
 blesome 
 
 FASHERIE, trouble 
 
 FATHERS CONSCRIPT, 
 ihe senators of ancient 
 Rome; here the chosen 
 fathers (of the town) 
 
 F A T U U S. FURIOSUS. 
 NATURALITER 
 IDIOTA, foolish, mad, 
 born idiot 
 
 FAULD, to fold 
 
 FAUSE MOXTEATH, the 
 reputed betrayer of 
 Wal lace 
 
 FAUT. fault 
 
 FECKLESS, insignlflca-nt, 
 feeble 
 
 FEND, to provide 
 
 FERGUSON, or FERGUS- 
 SON. ROBERT. Scot- 
 tish poet, born 1750, died 
 1774 
 
 FILE, to foul, disorder 
 
 FIT, foot 
 
 FLATS AND SHARPS, 
 sword, using the sword 
 
 FLEE, a flv 
 
 KI.EG, a fright 
 
 FT.TSKMAHOY. a giddy, 
 thoughtless person 
 
 FLOW-MOSS, a morass 
 See Note 9 to Bride of 
 Lammermoor 
 
 FORANEXT, directly op- 
 pnsite to 
 
 FORBEAR, firefather 
 
 FORBES, DUNCAN, ap- 
 of the Court of Session 
 pointed Lord President 
 in 1737. See footnote, 
 r. 40.? 
 
 FORBYE, besides 
 
650 
 
 WAVERLET NOVELS 
 
 FORE-HAMMER, aledge- 
 hamnier 
 
 FORGATHER, to come 
 together, become in- 
 timate 
 
 FORPIT. V4th of a peck 
 
 FOU, full, drunk 
 correctly F I g g a t e 
 AVhlns, a trao ol sand 
 hillocks and \tfiln bush- 
 es between if'ortobello 
 
 FRIGATE WHINS, more 
 inrt Lfith 
 
 FUGIT, etc. (p. ItJS), time 
 
 GAJr-MlLJ<:s g-wl-milk 
 
 GAITTS, or GYTES, or 
 GETTS, brats, urchins 
 Pilgrim's Progress 
 
 GALLIO. See Acts xviil. 
 
 GAIUS (L I N OO L. N- 
 SHIRE). the Host in 
 12-27 
 
 GAME ARM, a crooked, 
 lame arm 
 
 GANG, to go 
 gardez I'eau, an Edin- 
 burgh cry when dirty 
 water was thrown out a 
 
 GARE-BRAINED, giddy, 
 thoughtless 
 
 GATE, GAIT, Way, direc- 
 tion, minnej?} NAE 
 GATE, nowhere 
 
 GAUN, going 
 
 GAUN PLEAS, ponding 
 lawsuits 
 
 GAUNT, to yawn 
 
 GAWSIE, grand, fine 
 
 GAY SURE, pretty sure; 
 GAY AND WELL, pret- 
 ty well 
 
 GEE, TO TAKB THE, to 
 take the pet, <!arn pet- 
 
 GEAR, property 
 
 GlE, give; GIEN, given 
 
 GIF-GAF, mutual giving 
 
 GILPY, GILPIE, a lively 
 young girl 
 
 GIRDLE, a circular Iron 
 plate for baking scones, 
 cakes 
 
 GIRN, to grin, grimace 
 
 GLAIKS, TO FLING THE, 
 
 OARDYLOO, from French 
 IN ONE'S EEN, to de- 
 is flying beyond recall 
 
 FYKE, to move restlessly 
 In the same place 
 window 
 
 GLBDE, GLED, the kite 
 
 GLE 'G, active, keen ; 
 GLEG AS A GLED, 
 hungry as a hawk 
 
 GLIFF, an instant 
 
 GLIM, a light, hence any- 
 thing at all 
 
 GLOWER, to stare hard 
 
 BORBALS, a suburb on 
 
 GORBALS, a suburb on 
 the south side of Glas- 
 gow 
 
 GOUSTY, dreary, haunted 
 
 GOUTTE, a drop 
 
 GOWAN, a dog daisy 
 
 GOWDEN, golden 
 
 90WPBN, a double hand- 
 *ul of meal, the per- 
 
 quisite of 9 miller's 
 
 servant 
 GRAITH, apparatus of 
 
 any kind, harness 
 GRANTHAM GRUEL, a 
 
 Lincolnshire proverb, 
 
 ridiculing exaggerations 
 
 of speech 
 GRAT, wept 
 GREE, to agree 
 GREE, pre-eminence 
 GHEICSHOCH. a turf fire 
 
 without flame, smculd- 
 
 ering embers 
 GREET, to cry, weep 
 GREY-PEARD. or GREY- 
 BEARD, a stone jug tor 
 
 holding a'.e or liquor 
 GUDEMAN, the husband, 
 
 head of the house 
 GUDES'IRE. grandfather 
 GUDEWIFE, the wife, 
 
 head of the household 
 GUIDE, to treat, direct; 
 
 GUIDING, treatment 
 GULLEY, a large knife 
 GUSBS GRASS, the area 
 
 of grass a goose grazes 
 
 during the summer 
 GUTTER-BLOOD, one 
 
 meanly born 
 GY'BE, a pass 
 GYTB, a young boy; 
 
 CLEAN GYTE, quite 
 
 crazy 
 
 HADDEN, held 
 
 HADDO'S HOLE, a por- 
 tion of the n.ive of the 
 ancient collegiate 
 church, now incorpor- 
 ated with St. Giles' 
 Cathedral, Edinbulrgh. 
 
 HAFPETS. temples 
 
 HAPFLINS. young, en- 
 tering the teens 
 
 HAFT, custody ; to es- 
 tablish, fix 
 
 HAGBUTS OP FOUND, 
 firearms made of cast 
 metal (found) 
 
 HALE, or HILL, whole 
 entire 
 
 HALLAN. a partition in 
 a Scotch cottage 
 
 HA^D-WALED, remark- 
 able, notorious 
 
 FOOTMAN, RUNNING. 
 
 HARLE. to trail, drag 
 
 HAUD, hold 
 
 HAVINGS, behaviour, 
 
 manners 
 
 HAWKIT, white-(faced, 
 
 having white spots or 
 streaks 
 
 HEAL, healthy, felicity; 
 HBALSOME. whotesome 
 
 HELLICAT. wild, desper- 
 ate 
 
 HEMPIE. a rogue 
 
 HERITORS, the landown- 
 ers in a Scotch parish 
 
 HERSE, hoarse 
 
 HERSHIP, plundering by 
 armed force 
 
 HET, hot 
 
 HIGHLAND HOST. See 
 HighlaTidmen la 1677, 
 
 In glossary to Old Uor- 
 
 tality 
 
 HINNY, honey, a term of 
 affection 
 
 HIRPUN', limping 
 
 HIT (at backgammon), a 
 game, a move in the 
 game 
 
 HOG, a sheep older than 
 a lamb that has' not 
 been shorn 
 
 HOLBORN HILL BACK- 
 WARD, the position of 
 criminals on their way 
 to execution at Tyburn 
 
 HOLLAND, FENS OF, 
 the southern division of 
 Limcolnjshire, adjoining 
 the Wash 
 
 HOMOLOGATE, to ap- 
 prove, ratify, sanction 
 
 HOW, a hollow 
 
 HOWDIE, a midwife 
 
 HOWFF, a haunt 
 
 HUSSY, a housewife case, 
 needlecas'e 
 
 ILK, ILKA, each; ILK, 
 the same name; ILKA- 
 DAY, every-day 
 
 IMPOSTHUMES, abscess- 
 es, collections of pu.s 
 
 IN BYE, inside the house 
 
 IN COMMENDAM, '') 
 conjunction with 
 
 IN CONPITBNIEM, etc. 
 (p. 242), the judge's 
 function ceases when 
 there is confession of 
 the crime 
 
 INGAN, an onion 
 
 INGINB, Ingenuity, talent 
 
 IN HOC STATU, in this 
 case 
 
 INIMICITIAM CONTRA, 
 etc. (p. 264), enmity 
 against all mankind 
 
 IN INITIALIBUS, to be^ 
 gin with 
 
 IN LOCO PARENTIS, in 
 place of the parent 
 
 TXPUT. contribution 
 
 I'Nr RBM VERSA-M, charge- 
 able against the estate 
 
 IXTE.R APIOBS JURIS, oa 
 high points of law 
 
 INTER PARIETES, withi.i 
 doors 
 
 INTER RUSTICOS, a mere 
 rustic 
 
 INTONUIT LAEVUM, the 
 thunder is heard on the 
 left 
 
 INTROMIT WITH, to In- 
 terfere with 
 
 JAGG, a prick 
 J AIMER'S PLACE OP REF- 
 UGE, in 1595 
 JARK, a seal 
 JAUD, a jade 
 JINK, a dodge, lively 
 
 trick 
 JO. a sweetheart 
 JOW, to toll 
 
 JUS I>IVINUM, divine 
 right 
 
BX.OSSAjRT 
 
 651 
 
 KAILi, «r KAIiB, eabba'g^, 
 
 bToth made of greens, 
 
 dinner; KAIL-WOU.M , 
 
 c a t e r p 1 1 lar; KALE- 
 
 YA'RD, vegetable garden 
 
 KAIN, or CANE, a rent 
 paid in Icind 
 
 KAiMB, to comb 
 
 KAYS CARICATXTRBB, la 
 A Series of Portraits an 1 
 Caricature Etchings of 
 Old Eldinburgh charac- 
 ters, by John Kay, 1837- 
 aS; new ed., 1877 
 
 KEEJLYVINE, a lead pen- 
 cil 
 
 KENSPECKUE3, conaplcu- 
 
 •us, odd 
 KILLING TIME, the Cove- 
 nanters' name for the 
 period of Claverhouse's 
 persecutions in the West 
 of Scotland 
 
 KITTLE, ticklish, slip- 
 pery 
 
 KNAVESHIP, a small due 
 in meal paid to the un- 
 der-miller 
 
 KYE, cows 
 
 KYTH'E, to seem or ap- 
 pear 
 
 LAIKING, sporting, lark- 
 ing 
 
 LAMOUR, amber 
 
 LANDWARD, inland, 
 country-bred 
 
 UVNIE, alone; THEIR 
 LANE, themselves 
 
 LAUCH. law 
 
 L^VROCK, a lark 
 
 LAWING, the account, bill 
 
 LAWYERS FROM HOL- 
 LAND. Many of the 
 Scottish lawyers and doc- 
 tors were educated at 
 Leyden and Utrecht in 
 the 17th and 18th cen- 
 turies 
 
 IjAY, on THE, on the 
 lookout 
 
 LEAP, LAURENCE. 
 YOU'RE LONG 
 
 ENOUGH, .^n adaptation 
 or extension of the pro- 
 verbial Lazy Lawrence or 
 Long Lawrence 
 
 LEASING-MAKING, hig'h 
 treason 
 
 LEE, a lie 
 
 LEICESTER BEANS, ex- 
 tensively grown in 
 Leicestershire; hence the 
 proverb. 'Shake a Leices- 
 tershire man by the col- 
 lar, and you shall hear 
 the beans rattle in hid 
 belly 
 IjENXOX, THE. a former 
 county of Scotland, em- 
 bracing Dumbartonshirp 
 and parts of Stirling- 
 shire, Perthshire, and 
 Renfrewsliire 
 LBSE-IMAJBSTY, treason 
 LIFT, the sky 
 
 L,IM*IE1R, a jade, scoundnl 
 
 UNOOLNSHIRE GAIUS. 
 Sea GaIus 
 
 LINN, a cascade, waterfall 
 UPPEN, to rely upon, 
 
 trust to 
 LIVINGSTONE, JOHN, an 
 influential Presbyterian 
 during the Commuu- 
 wealth, minister at 
 Stranraer and Ancrum 
 
 LIVINGSTO.NE, JOHN, 
 SAILOR IN BORROW- 
 STOUNNESS. See Pat- 
 rick Walker's Life of 
 Peden. p. 107 
 
 LOCK, the perquisite of a 
 servant in a mill, usu- 
 ally a handful (lock) or 
 two of meal 
 
 LOCKERMACHUS. the lo- 
 cal pronunciation in 
 Scott's day of Long- 
 formacus, a village in 
 Berwickshire 
 
 LOCKINGTON WAKE, a 
 Leicestershire yearly 
 merrymaking or festival 
 
 LOCO TUTORIS, in the 
 place of a guardian 
 
 LOOK, the palm of the 
 hand 
 
 LOOT, let, permitted 
 
 LORD OF .SEAT, a judge 
 
 LORD OP STATE, a noble- 
 man 
 
 LOU'ND, quiet, tranquil 
 
 LOUNDBR, to thump, beat 
 
 LOW, a flame 
 
 LOWE, JOHN, author rf 
 'Mary's Dream,' died 
 1798. See biography in 
 Oromek, Remains of Gal- 
 loway Song (1810) 
 
 LUCKIE. a title given to 
 old women 
 
 LUCKJE DAD, grand- 
 father 
 
 LUG, the ear 
 
 LUM. a Chimney 
 
 LYING-DOG, a kind of 
 setter 
 
 MACHEATH, a highway- 
 
 iman. the hero of Gay's 
 Beggar's Opera 
 
 MAGG (COALS), to give 
 short quantity, purloin- 
 ing the difference 
 
 M.A.GGOT, a whim, crochet 
 
 MAGNA EST VERITAS, 
 &c. (p. 11). truth is 
 great, and prevail it ■will 
 
 MAII^, to stain 
 
 MAIL-DUTIES, rent; 
 
 MAILING, or MAIL, a 
 farm rent 
 
 MAIR BY TOKEN, espe- 
 cially as 
 
 MAISTRY. mastery, power 
 
 MAN-SWORN, perjured 
 
 MANTY, mantle 
 
 MANU...NOIN BELLE. &c. 
 (p. 488), it is not becom- 
 ing to lift one's hand in 
 jest and over the wine. 
 See Catullus, xil. 
 
 MAFtlTORNES, a coarse 
 serving - wench whomi 
 Don Quixote mistook for 
 a lady of noble birth 
 
 M-UIK OF BEU/?RA-\nB. 
 
 See 'Same again,' etc 
 MASHACKERBD, Clumsily 
 cut, hacked 
 
 MA-iS JOHN, a parson 
 
 MATHGUS. or MAT- 
 THABUS, ANTON, one 
 of a family of cele- 
 brated German writers 
 on jurisprudence, the 
 'second' Antom profes- 
 sor at Utrecht from 163S 
 to 1654 
 
 MAUKIN, a hare 
 
 M.AUN, must 
 
 MAUNDER, to talk Inco- 
 herently, nonsense 
 
 MAUT, malt 
 
 MAW, to mow 
 MEAL-ARK, meal-chest 
 
 MEAR, a mare 
 
 MBLL, to meddle 
 
 MEN OF MARSHAM, etc., 
 a Lincolnshire proverb, 
 signifying disunion la 
 the cause of ill-success 
 
 M B 'N S EFU', becoming, 
 mannerly 
 
 MiERK^:ls. 1 l-3d. 
 
 MERSE, Berwickshire 
 
 MCSSAN. a lapdog, cur 
 
 M E X I CAN MONARCH. 
 Guateraozin, the .\ztec 
 emperor who. when put 
 to the torture by Cortes, 
 reproached a fellow- 
 sufferer, groaning with 
 anguish, by asking, 'Do 
 you think then I am 
 enjoying my bed (lit. 
 bath) of flowers?" 
 
 MIDDEN, a dunghill 
 
 MILE. SCOTTISH, about 
 nine furlongs 
 
 MILLED, robbed 
 
 MIN'NI'E, mamima 
 
 .\1I.SCA', to abuse, malign 
 
 MISGUGGLE, to disflgure 
 
 MISSET, ■displeased, out 
 of humour 
 
 MISS KATIES, mosquitoes 
 
 MISTER, want 
 
 MIXE.V, a dunghill 
 
 MOB, or Mo, more 
 
 MIJ'XSON. SIR WILLIAM, 
 admiral, fought against 
 the Spaniards and Dutch 
 in the reigns of Eliza- 
 beth and James I. 
 
 MONTIi'ATH. FAUSE. the 
 reputed betrayer if Wal- 
 lace to the English 
 
 MORISON'S DECISIONS, 
 with fuller title. Decis- 
 ions of the Court of Ses- 
 sion rBdinburgh] in 
 
 the form of a Diction- 
 ary, by W. M. iMorison, 
 40 vols., 1801-11 
 
 MOS.S-JHAG. a pit In a 
 peat moor 
 
 MO'TTY, full of motes 
 
 '.MUCH HAVE I FEA'R'D.' 
 etc. (p. 10). from 
 Crabbe's Borough, Letter 
 
 MI'CKLE. much 
 MUIR-ILL, a dlseas* 
 amungat black oattl* 
 
552 
 
 WAVERLEY IVOVELS! 
 
 MUm - FOOTS, y (> u n S 
 
 gi'ouse 
 MULL, a snuff-box 
 ULLTUUE, DRY. See 
 
 Dry Multure 
 MUTCH, a woman's cap 
 MUTCHKLV, a liquid mea- 
 
 «ur«, containing \ ipint 
 
 VAUTAE. CAUPONES, &c. 
 See 'Edict Nautae 
 
 KKGBR, nigger 
 
 NEiMO ME IMPUNE LA- 
 OESSIT, no one wounds 
 me with impunity — tlie 
 motto that accompanies 
 the thistle, the badge of 
 the crown of Scotland 
 
 ^riCK MOLL BLOOD, to 
 cheat the gallows 
 
 NIFPERIXG, haggling: 
 NIFPER, en exchange; 
 PUT HIS LIFE IN A 
 NIFFER. put his life at 
 stake, in jeopardy 
 
 ^JIHIL INTEREST DS 
 POSSDSSIOXB. the ques- 
 tion of posses don is im- 
 material 
 NOITEaD, rapped, struck 
 smartly 
 
 NON CONSTAT, It is not 
 certain 
 
 NOiN CUIVIS, etc. (p. 44), 
 it is not every one that 
 can gain admittance to 
 the (select) society of 
 Corinth 
 
 NOOP, the bone at the 
 elbow-joint 
 
 NOR' LOCH, e swamp in 
 Edinburgh, now Princes 
 Street Gardens 
 
 NOWTB, cattla 
 
 OB, a grrandchlia 
 
 ONGOING, a heavy fall (of 
 snow) 
 
 OPTAT (BPHIPPlA.etc. (p, 
 45), the sluggish ex 
 wishes for the horse's 
 trappings 
 
 ORDINAR, AFTER HER, 
 as is usual with her 
 
 ORMOND, James Butler 
 first Duke of, was tor 
 seven years in disfavour 
 through the intrigues of 
 enemies 
 
 ORREJRY. r. mechanism 
 representing tthe motions 
 of the planets 
 
 OUT-BYE, out of doors; 
 beyond, without 
 
 OXJTGATE, ostentatious 
 
 display 
 
 DUTSIGHT AiND INSIGHT 
 PLE5NISHING. goods be- 
 longing to the outside 
 and inside of the house 
 respectively 
 
 OWBR-BYE. over the way 
 
 OWRBLAY. a cravat 
 
 PADDER, a highwayman; 
 ON THE PAD, a hish- 
 waymam on the look-o'it 
 for victims 
 
 PAIK. a blow 
 
 PAIP, the Pope 
 
 PAITRICK, a partridge 
 
 PALMER, JOil.N', of iiath, 
 greatly Improved the 
 mail-coaches in the end 
 of the ISth century 
 
 PAKOCHl.VE. parish 
 
 PARSONAGE, a contribu- 
 tion for the support of 
 a parson 
 
 PAR VOIH DU FAIT, by 
 assault, act of violence 
 
 PASSEMENTS, gold, sil- 
 ver, or silk lace; PASSE- 
 MENTED, laced 
 
 PAUVRB HONTEUX, poor 
 and humble-minded iman 
 
 PAVE, the road, highway 
 
 PEARLIN-LACK, bone 
 
 lace, made of thread or 
 silk 
 
 PEAT, PROUD, a person 
 of intolerable pride 
 
 PEAT-HAG, a pit in a 
 peat moor 
 
 PDDEN, ALEXANDER, a 
 celebrated Covenanting 
 leader. See Old Mortal- 
 ity. Note 38 
 FEEBLE, to pelt with 
 stones 
 
 PEN-GUN, CRACKING 
 
 LIKE A, gabbling like a 
 penguin 
 
 HaNNANT, THOMAS, a 
 keenly observant natu- 
 ralist and traveller of 
 the ISth century 
 
 PDNNBCUICK, ALEXAN- 
 DER, M. D., of Newhall, 
 near Edinburgh, author 
 of Historical Account of 
 the Blue Blanket; died 
 in 1722 
 
 PHNNY, SCOTS— l-12th of 
 a penny English 
 
 PIE.N>:ySTANE, a stone 
 quoit 
 
 piDNNY WEDDING, one at 
 which the expenses are 
 met by the guests' con- 
 tributions. See Biirt's 
 Letters from the North 
 of Scotland, Letter xi. 
 
 PE.XTLAXD. or RULLir^N 
 GREEN, where Dalziel 
 routed the Galloway 
 Whigs in 1666 
 
 PEREGRIXIB (BEiRTPE), 
 LORD WILLOUGHBY, 
 one of Elizabeth's cap- 
 tains. The lines quoted 
 are from "The Brave 
 Lord Willoughby' in 
 Percy's Reliques 
 
 PERFERVIDUM, etc. (p. 
 12), the fiery nature of 
 the Scots 
 P\7Al VIGILIAS ET IN- 
 SIDIAS, by snares and 
 ambush 
 
 RE.SSIMI EXEMPLI, the 
 worst of precedents, ex- 
 amples 
 
 PETTLE, to indulge, pam- 
 per 
 
 PIBROCH, a bagpipe tun?, 
 usually for the gather- 
 ins O^ B' c'^i^ 
 
 FICKLE TN THINE AT.S' 
 POi^ENUOK, depend on 
 thy own exertions 
 
 PICQUEERINGS, bi«ker- 
 ings, disputes 
 
 PICTURESQUE. See Pri':;e 
 
 PIGG, an earthenware ves- 
 sel, pitcher 
 
 PIKE, to pick 
 
 PILLION MAIL, baggage 
 carried on a pillion 
 
 PliRlN, a reel 
 
 '^IT, put 
 
 PITCAIRN, DR., a well- 
 known Edinburgh physi- 
 cian, died in 171S. who 
 showed skill in writing 
 Latin verse 
 
 PLACED .MINISTER, one 
 holding an ecclesiastical 
 chargj 
 
 PLAC5K, one-third of a 
 penny 
 
 PLAGUE, trouble, annoy- 
 ance 
 
 PL.ANKED A CHURY, 
 concealed a knife 
 
 PLBASAUNTS, or PL0A- 
 SANOE, a part of Edin- 
 burgh between the Cow- 
 gate and Salisbury Crags 
 
 PLENISHING, furniture 
 
 PLOUGH-GATE, as much 
 land as can be tilled 
 by one plough 
 
 PLOY, a spree, game 
 
 POCK, a poke, bag 
 
 POCOCURANTE, an easy- 
 going, indifferent person 
 
 P O B N A ORDINARIA, 
 usual punishment 
 
 POET OF GRASMBRE, 
 Wordsworth 
 
 POFFLE, a small farm, 
 piece of land 
 
 POINT DE'VTSE, In or 
 with the greatest ex- 
 actitude, propriety 
 
 POLLRUMIPTIOUS, un- 
 
 ruly, restive 
 
 PONTAGES, bridge-tolls 
 
 POORFU', powerful 
 
 POPPLING, purling, rip- 
 pling 
 
 POQUELIN, the real 
 name of Moliere 
 
 PORTEOUiS MOB. The 
 actual order of events 
 was — Robertson's escape, 
 11th April, 1736; Wil- 
 '9on's cxecujtion. 14ith 
 April; Queen's pardon 
 far IPorteouB reaahed 
 Edinburgh 2d Septem-' 
 bcr; riot took place Tth 
 September; Porteous's 
 
 execution was fixed for 
 Sth September 
 
 POW, the head 
 
 PRIiOE?S APPROPRIATE 
 PHRASE, PICTUR- 
 BE^QUEJ— an allusion to 
 Sir Uvedale Price'.s E^- 
 »ay on the Picturesque, 
 17M 
 
GLOSSARY 
 
 663 
 
 PRIG<J, to entreat, beg tor 
 PROKITOK, a procuraUtr. 
 
 solicitor 
 PROPINE, a gift 
 FUND SCOTS— Is. Sd. 
 PURN, a burn, stream 
 PYKIT, picked, pilfered 
 
 QUADRELLE TABLE, a 
 ganie at cards, not un- 
 like ombre with a fourth 
 player 
 
 QUARRY HOLES, where 
 duels were frequently 
 fought and female 
 xM-iminals sometinves 
 
 drowned, at the foot of 
 Oalton Hill, not far 
 from Holyrood Palace, 
 Edinburgh 
 
 QUEAN, a young woman 
 
 QUBEfR CUPFIN, a jus- 
 tice of peace 
 
 a U B B R ING, quizzing, 
 making fun 
 
 QUEER THE NOOSE, 
 THE STIPLER, escape 
 the gaJlows 
 
 QUBT, a young cow 
 
 QUILLBT, a quibble, sub- 
 tlety 
 
 QUIVIS EX POiPULO, any 
 ordinary citzen 
 
 QUODAMMODO, in a 
 manner, certain measure 
 
 QUOS DrUGIT OASTE- 
 GAT, whom He loveth 
 He chasteneth 
 
 QUOTHA, forsooth 
 
 RAI3DLE, to mob 
 
 RANXHL-TRQES, a beam 
 acroas the fireplace for 
 suspendine a pot on 
 
 RAPPING, awearing false- 
 ly 
 
 RARl APPARENT NAN- 
 TES, etc. (p. 4). they 
 appear swimming, wide- 
 ly scattered, in the vast 
 deep 
 
 RATT-RHYME, doggerel 
 verses, repeated by role 
 
 R.A.X. to stretch 
 
 RQCKAN, pining, miser- 
 able 
 
 RED, to counsel, advi?? 
 
 H0DDING UP, clearing 
 up 
 
 REEK, smoke 
 
 REM EDI UM M I S E R A- 
 EILliX sad remedy for 
 misfortune 
 
 RE.NWICK. MK. JAM^S. 
 the last of the 'martyrs' 
 of the Covenant, exe- 
 cuted at Edinburgh on 
 17th February, 1688 
 
 RIDING OP PARLIA- 
 MENT, the prooession of 
 dignitaries on their way 
 to open a new session 
 
 RIN, to run 
 
 RINTHEaiEWUT, a house- 
 less vagrant 
 
 RIPE, to search 
 
 RIVE, to tear 
 
 ROKliLAY, a short cloak 
 
 ROOMS, portions of land, 
 to own or occupy 
 
 ROaA SOLIS, a cordial, 
 formerly in great repute, 
 made of spirits ilavor-;d 
 with cinnamon, oran^'e- 
 liower, etc. 
 
 ROUPIT, hoarse 
 
 ROVING, raving 
 
 ROUPIXG, saliing off, auc- 
 tioning 
 
 ROWING, rolling, revolv- 
 ing 
 
 ROYSTOUN, a mansion be- 
 longing to the Duke of 
 Argyle at Cramond, near 
 Edinburgh; it stood in 
 Caroline Park 
 
 RUBBIT. robbed 
 
 RUB, TAEN THE, re- 
 pented of 
 
 RUFFTjER, a bullying 
 beggar or thief 
 
 Rl.N'.NING FOOTMAN. See 
 Note 9 to Bride of Lam- 
 mermoor 
 
 S A C K L E S S, innocent, 
 
 guileless 
 
 S.\IN, to bless 
 
 ST. NICHOLAS'S CLERKS, 
 high\fayraen 
 
 5'AIR, sore, much 
 
 sALMONBOUS, a mythical 
 king who,, arrogant'.v 
 imitating Zeus, was slain 
 by hJ9 own 'fhunderboit. 
 See Demens, etc. 
 
 ■SAME AGAIN, QUOTH 
 MARK OF BEiI.,GRAVE,' 
 a Leicestershire proverb. 
 The story goes that a 
 militia officer, exercising 
 his men before the lord- 
 lieutenant, became con- 
 fused, and continued to 
 order 'Tlie same again' 
 
 SAiTvlEN, THE OLD, the 
 same as before 
 
 ^APK, a shirt 
 
 SARK FOOT, the lower 
 po.'tioT of the boundary 
 stream betiween England 
 and Scotland 
 
 SA35B\^.AOH. Saxon, that 
 is. English 
 
 SACNT, saint 
 
 ?AUT. salt 
 
 SCAITH, SCATHI?. harm 
 
 5CART. a scratch 
 
 3CLATE. slate 
 
 Sr-OMFISH, to suffocate 
 
 SOOUPI.NG, skipping 
 
 SCOUR, to thrust (a knife) 
 
 SORAUGIN', screeching, 
 screaming 
 
 SCREED, a maes. string 
 
 SORIMGEOUR, JOHN, min- 
 ister of Klnghorn, re- 
 al 5te<l the authority of 
 his bishop to depose 
 him, in 162." 
 
 SCUD, a sudden shower 
 SEflJ TRANSEAT. etc. (p. 
 
 218), but let It pass with 
 
 other blunders 
 SEdL, to site, stra«i 
 SHIP, to ooze 
 BLLL O' YE, yourwlt 
 SET, to suit, become 
 SHANKIT, handled 
 SHOON, shoes 
 SIC, SICCAN, such 
 SIGHT FOR SAIR EEN, a 
 
 most welcome sight 
 SlCrXBT, WIUTEIR TO. Se« 
 
 Writer 
 SILLY HEALTH, poorly 
 SIMMEnt. summer 
 ? I N D E RED, separated, 
 
 sundered 
 SI.NDKY, sundry, different 
 SINGLE CARRXTCH, the 
 
 Shorter Catechism of tha 
 
 Church of .ScoUana 
 SINGULI IN SOLir.UM, 
 
 singly responsible for "h« 
 
 whole 
 SIT DOUN WITH, endure, 
 
 take quietly 
 SKAITH, harm. Injury 
 SKAJTHLBSS, free froa 
 
 harm 
 SKDBL, skill, knowledge; 
 
 SKEDLY, skilful, know. 
 
 ing 
 SKELI', to slap, beat 
 SKIDDAW. See cnffel 
 SKIN A.VD BIRN. wholly, 
 
 in entirety 
 SKIRL, to screech, scream 
 SKULDUDDERY. breach oj 
 
 chastity, indecency 
 SLAKE, a smear 
 SL0.4N. abuse, rating 
 SMACKED CALF-SKIN. 
 
 kissed the Testament. 
 
 taken a false oath 
 SNACK, a snatch of food 
 taV-XP, a snack, hurried 
 
 meal 
 SNAPPER, stumble, 
 
 scrape, moral error 
 SiNOO AND SNOD, neat 
 
 and tidy 
 •SOMETHING THERE 
 
 WAS,' etc. (p. 102). From 
 
 ( rabbe's The Borough. 
 
 Letter xv. 
 SONSY, comfortable-look- 
 ing, plump 
 SORTED, looked after, at- 
 tended to 
 SOUGH, to sigh; a sigb 
 
 rumor 
 SOUP, a sup 
 SOUTHER, to solder 
 SOWBNS. a sort of grue'. 
 
 n-jade from the soured 
 
 siftings of oatmea! 
 SPARING, telling fortune* 
 SPEER. to inquire, asii 
 SPIEL, 'o climb 
 SPLEUOH.VN. a Hiekla»' 
 
 '"bacco Douck 
 
554 
 
 WA VERLE Y NO VELS 
 
 SPORRiAN. a Highland 
 purse of goatskin 
 
 b'PAJG, an unbroken horse 
 
 STAIR'S IN'STITUTES, Olt, 
 INSTITUTIONS OF THli 
 LAW OP SCOTLAND, 
 by James Dalrymple, 
 First Viscount Stair, 
 President of the Court of 
 Session, 1609-95, a cele- 
 brated Scotch law-book 
 
 STEC, to place, fix 
 
 STERN, a star 
 
 STIRK, a steer 
 
 STOIT, to stagger 
 
 STOUP, a wooden drinking 
 vessel 
 
 STOW, to crop, cut off 
 
 STRAUGHTED, stretched 
 
 STREIGHT, strait, trouble. 
 
 STURE. rough, hardy 
 
 SUT G.BNE:RIS, of its own 
 kind, special 
 
 SUM MUM DO'NTJM, the 
 chief, good, prime con- 
 sideration 
 
 SUNKBTS, victuals 
 
 S'URFLiEET ON THE 
 
 WASiH. The Three Tuna 
 Inn on the marsh (in- 
 closed in 1777) beside the 
 Welland at Surfleet was 
 a resort of amugglers 
 
 SWITHBR, suspense, hesi- 
 tation 
 
 SYND, to wash, rinse 
 
 SYNEJ, since, ago 
 
 SYNE AS SUNE, late as 
 soon 
 
 TAILZIE, entail 
 
 TAIT, a lock (of wool) 
 
 TAM OARUM OAPIIT, a 
 person so dear 
 
 TAP, a top 
 
 TAPE OUT, to eke out, 
 make a little go a long 
 way 
 
 TAP IN MY UAP (take up) 
 ■my baggage and be oft 
 
 TAWPIE, an awkward 
 girl, foolish wench 
 
 TAWSE. a strap cut into 
 narrow tliongs for whip- 
 ping boys 
 
 ■ra:iND, tithe 
 
 ■nEMPUS NBMINI, time 
 (waits for) no man 
 
 TEJNDBR, in delicate 
 health 
 
 TBN-MARK COURT, for- 
 mer Scotch small debt 
 court for sums not ex- 
 ceeding ten raerksi (lis. 
 2d.) and servants' wages 
 
 TENT, care; TAK TENT, 
 
 to take care 
 TH.\TOH GROBY POOL 
 V/r PANCAKES, a L,ei- 
 i-estershire proverb, in- 
 dicating an impossible 
 promise or undertaking 
 
 1'HIRL.AGB, the obligutiou 
 to sri"* '^o'l at a cer- 
 
 tain mill, and pay cer- 
 tain dues for it.s niai]i- 
 tenanoe, etc. 
 
 THOiLE, to suffer, endure 
 
 THRAWART, THRAWN, 
 crabbed, Ul-tempered 
 
 THRBSHIE-OOAT, a rough 
 weather coat 
 
 THROUGH OTHER, con- 
 fusedly, all together 
 
 THUMKINS. or THUMBI- 
 KINS, tbe thumb-screws 
 
 TUfflT, trim, neat 
 
 TINT, lost 
 
 TITTIE, a little pet, gen- 
 erally a sister 
 
 TOOHBR, dowry 
 
 TOD, a fox 
 
 TOM OF L1INC0L.N, the 
 large bell of Lincoln Ca- 
 thedral 
 
 TONY LUMPKIN, a coun- 
 try clown in Goldsmith's 
 She Stoops to Conquer 
 
 TOOM, empty; to empty, 
 pour 
 
 TOUK, TOOK, tuck, beat 
 (of a drum) 
 
 TO'W, a rope 
 
 TOWN, a farm-house, -B'ith 
 the outbuildings 
 
 TOY, a woman's cap 
 
 TRAIK, to dangle after 
 
 TEE'VISS, a bar or parti- 
 tion between two stalls 
 in a stable 
 
 TRINQUBT, or TRINKET, 
 to correspond clandes^ 
 tinely, intrigue 
 
 TRIP TO THE JUBILEE, 
 a comedy by G. Farquhar 
 TROW, to believe 
 
 TROWLING, rolling 
 
 TULLY, Marcus Tulliu3 
 Cicero, the Roman orator 
 TURNPIKE STAIR, a 
 winding or spiral stair 
 TUTOR DATIVE, a guar- 
 dian appointed by a 
 court or magistrate 
 
 TWAL, twelve 
 
 TWOMONT, a twelve- 
 month, year 
 
 TYNE, to lose; TYNB 
 HEIART TYNE A', to 
 lose heart is to lose 
 everything 
 
 ULAa. See Dan. viii. 2. 16 
 ULTRONEOUS, voluntary 
 UNCANNY, mischievous. 
 
 not safe 
 UN(3HANCY, dangerous, 
 
 not safe to meddle with 
 UNOO. uncommon, strange, 
 
 serious 
 UNSCYTHE3D CAR, the 
 war-chariots of the an- 
 cient Britons and Gauls 
 bore scythes affixed to 
 their wheels 
 UPGANG, ascent 
 UPSIDES Wr, quits with 
 USQUEBAUGH, whisky 
 
 UT PLCS IN SEFTIS. etc. 
 (p. 487), as a flower 
 springs up unseen in a 
 walled garden 
 
 VALEAT QUANTUM, 
 whatever it may be 
 worth 
 
 VICARAGE, tithes 
 
 VIVAT REJX, etc. (p. 276), 
 long live the king, let 
 the law takes its course 
 
 WA', a wall 
 
 WAD, a pledge, bet; to 
 wager, bet 
 
 W.-^D, would 
 
 WADSET, a mortgage 
 
 WAE, woe ; sorry ; WAE- 
 SOME, sorrowful, sad 
 
 WAPP. whisk, sudden puff 
 
 WAGGING, dangling by a 
 piece of skin 
 
 WALE, to select, choose 
 
 WALLY-DRAIGLE, a poor 
 weak creature, drone 
 
 WAMPISHING. brandish- 
 ing, flourishing 
 
 WAN OUT, got out 
 
 WAN-THRIVEN, in a 
 state of decline 
 
 WARE, to spend 
 
 WARSLE, WARSTLE, to 
 wrestle 
 
 WASTRIFE, waste ; 
 WASTER, wasteful 
 
 WAT FINGER, TO BRING 
 AFF wr A. manag2 a 
 thing very easily 
 
 WATNA, wot not 
 
 WAUPF. B. passing glance, 
 glimpse 
 
 WAUR, worse 
 
 WEAN, a young child, in- 
 fant 
 
 WEBSTER, a weaver 
 
 WEIRD, destiny 
 
 WELL-TO-PASS. well-to- 
 do 
 
 WHAUP IN THE RAPE, 
 something wrong or rot- 
 ten 
 
 WHEJEN, a few, a parcel 
 of 
 
 WHILES, sometimes 
 
 WHILLYWHA, to wheedle 
 
 WHIRRYING, hurrrying 
 
 WHISTER-POOP, a bick- 
 handed blow 
 
 WHISTLE ON HIS 
 THUMB, completely dis- 
 appointed 
 
 ■WHITTLE, a large knife 
 
 WHORN. a horn 
 
 WIGHT, WIGHT, power- 
 ful, valiant 
 
 WILLYARD. wild, wilful, 
 nliptinate 
 
 WIMPLE, a wile, piece ol 
 craft, wrinkle 
 
 ■WINNA. will not 
 
 WOGC.ARWOLFE. Sei 
 
 E^hwald 
 
 WOODIE, the halter 
 
GLOSSARY 
 
 656 
 
 WORRIECOW, a hobgoblin 
 
 WORSET. worsted 
 
 WRITER TO THE SIG- 
 NEH", a class of Scottish 
 law-agents, enjoying cer- 
 tain privileges 
 
 WUD, mad, violent 
 
 WULli-CAT. a wild cat 
 
 WUN, WON, WIN, to win, 
 get, gain 
 
 WUN OWER Wr, to deal 
 with, get through with 
 
 WUSS, to wish 
 WUZZENT. wlzcne.l. 
 
 ered 
 WYND. a narrow i 
 
 or cul-de-sac 
 WTTE, blame 
 
 YEALD (COW), one whose 
 milk has dried up; 
 YEALD BEASTS, drapes 
 
 TEALDON, elding, fuel 
 YEARN, to cau-5e to coagu- 
 
 laie, make (cheese) 
 YERK, to bind tightly 
 Y'ERL, an earl 
 YILL, ale 
 TILL-CAUP, a wooden 
 
 drinking-Teoeel 
 
 ZONS, a moaey-belt 
 
INDEX 
 
 ixcHiBALD, John, 352 ; conducts Jeanie 
 
 Deans from Mrs. Glass's, 360 : Jeanie's 
 description of hiin, 386 ; consideration 
 for her at Carlisle, 396, 401, 404 ; rows 
 Jeanie and Mrs. Duttou home, 450 
 Argyle, John, Duke of, his retort to 
 Queen Caroline, 05 ; defence of the 
 Porteous riot, 240 ; relations with the 
 court, 349 ; receives Jeanie in audi- 
 ence, 351 ; takes her to Richmond, 
 361 ; relations with Queen Caroline, 
 366 ; interview with her, 367 ; dis- 
 cusses cheese with Jeanie, 37'. ; in 
 Mrs. Glass's shop, 387 ; his wife and 
 daughters, 393 ; his letter to Jeanie, 
 407 ; praLses Lady Staunton, 470; his 
 death, 472 ; anecdotes of, 540 
 Arthur's Seat, Author's favorite resort, 
 
 67 ; duels on, 102 
 "At the sight of DuMbarton," 381 
 Auchingower, Jeanie's home, 441 
 Author's Introduction, ix ; and Arthur's 
 Seat, 67 ; connection with Quakerism, 
 xvii, 5'4'i 
 
 Bailzou, Annaple, 497, 499 
 
 Balchristie, Mrs. Janet, 253 
 
 Beersheba, Butler's croft, 68 
 
 Bellum Bellellum, 546 
 
 Bess Wynd, 35, 526 
 
 Bible, folding a leaf of, 94 
 
 Bickerton, Mrs., of York, 273, 277 
 
 Bishops, Scottish, expulsion of, 891, 541 
 
 Bitem politics. See Bubbleburgh 
 
 Borrowing days, 275, 541 
 
 Bovet's Pandoenioniuni, quoted, 637 
 
 Brownie, 252 
 
 Bubbleburgh and Bitem politics, 12, 15 
 
 Buckholmside cheese, 380, 641 
 
 Butler, David, guides Lady Staunton, 
 490 ; gets a commission, 521 
 
 Butler, Mrs., Reuben's grandmother, 
 74 ; her pride in him, 81 
 
 Butler, Reuben, corrects Saddletree's 
 Latin, 36 ; his discussions with Saddle- 
 tree, 36, 40, 2M ; distress at Effle's 
 misfortune, 43; chaplain to the 
 rioters, 48 ; tries to save Porteous, 60, 
 62 ; escapes from Edinburgh, 63 ; his- 
 tory of, 67 ; early associated with 
 Jeanie Deans, 75 ; licensed as a 
 preacher, 81 ; encounters Robertson 
 in the King' ■. Park, 103 ; sympathetic 
 visit to the Deans family, 108; ap- 
 prehended, 127 ; examined by the 
 bldli^. 129, 138; doM not Identify 
 
 657 
 
 Madge Wildfire, 159; visited by Jeanla^ 
 266 ; gives her a letter to Argyle, 270 ; 
 Jeanie's letters to him, 275, 386 ; ap- 
 pointed to Knocktarlitie church, 419 ; 
 welcomes Jeanie home, 431 ; his ordi- 
 nation, 445 ; marriage to Jeanie Deans, 
 457 ; behavior towards David Deans, 
 459; plays backgammon with Knock 
 dunder, 462 ; buys Craigsture, 478 ; 
 intercourse with Sir G. Staunton, 499 ; 
 his loyalty to the Scottish Kirk, 505 ; 
 lands at Caird's Cove, 509 ; takes 
 charge of Lady Staunton's aflf airs, 518 
 Butler, Stephen or " Bible," 67 ; Lorn's 
 testimony to, 355 
 
 Cairo's Cove, 509 
 
 Cameronians, horror of dancing, 93, 536; 
 belief in apparitions, 144, 51^ ; sects 
 of, 189 ; meeting at Talla Linns, 191, 
 589 ; attitude to government, 192 ; 
 leader.s, 431 ; shining lights of, 460 
 
 Carlyle, Dr., his recollection of the Por- 
 teous mob, 534 
 
 Caroline, Queen, and the Porteous riot, 
 32, 64 ; characteristics of, 305 ; inter- 
 view with Argyle, 367 ; with Jeanie 
 Deans, 372 ; her gift to Jeanie, 377 
 
 Carspharn John, 85, 145, 535 
 
 " Cauld is my bed. Lord Archibald," 408 
 
 Cheese, Scotch, 379 
 
 Child-murder in Scotland, 45, 119, 150, 
 526 
 
 City Guard of Edinburgh, 22, 526 ; dis- 
 armed by Porteous mob, 51 
 
 Cleishbotham, Jedediah, his preface, 
 XV ; his Envoy, 522 
 
 Clyde, river, 407 ; beauties of firth, 412 
 
 College students of Edinburgh, 71 
 
 Covenant, and the government, 192 
 
 Crabbe, quoted, 10, 97, 358 
 
 Crombie v. MacPhail, 266 
 
 Crossmyloof, Counsellor, Saddletree's 
 oracle, 36, 89, 118 
 
 Dabby, Mrs. Deputy, 889 
 Dalgleish. Jock, 156, 538 
 Dalton, Mrs., Staunton's housekeeper, 
 
 323 ; takes charge of Jeanie, 342 
 Damahoy, Miss, lament over the Union, 
 
 34, 37 ; and the verdict on Effle, 232 
 Dancing, Cameronians' horror of, 9!i, 
 
 536 
 Deans, David, 70 ; his worldly success, 
 
 78 ; jealousy of Butler, 81 ; removes 
 
 to St. Leonard's Crags, 86 ; horror of 
 
&;o 
 
 INDEX 
 
 dancing, 98 ; distress at EfiSe's dis- 
 grace, 100 ; reception of Butler in his 
 distress, 108 ; discussion witli Saddle 
 tree, 115 ; rejects the aid of council, 
 120 ; repudiates Effie, 187 ; bids Jeauie 
 follow her conscience, 195; attends at 
 the trial, 808 ; swoons in court, ZiO ; 
 taken to Mrs. Saddletree's 211 ; letter 
 of thanks to Jeanie, 390 ; resolves to 
 leave St. Leonard's, 391 ; welcomes 
 Jeanie at Roseneath, 413 ; appointed 
 to manage the Duke's farm, 416 ; visits 
 Dumbiedikes, 430 ; hears of Butler's 
 preferment, 433 ; on the ordination 
 oath, 433 ; his future home, 443 ; his 
 flrst-b(5rn joke, 449 ; liis bickerings 
 with Butler, 459 ; helps rescue the 
 minister's cows, 474 ; dies, 475 
 
 Deans, Effie, Mrs. Saddletree'ssympathy 
 for, 43 ; urged to fly from the prison, 
 59 ; description of, 89 ; scolded by 
 Jeanie, 92 ; takes service with Mrs. 
 Saddletree, 95 ; her misfortune, 97 ; 
 apprehended, 99 ; interrogated by tlie 
 procurator, 173; interview with Jeanie 
 whilst in jail, 199 ; placed in tlie dock, 
 212 ; her declaration, 333; found guilty, 
 235 ; second interview with Jeanie, 
 244 ; her connection with George 
 Staunton, 329 ; is pardoned, 376 ; runs 
 away from her father, 433 ; letter to 
 her father, 433 ; surprises Jeanie at 
 Roseneath, 453; affecting letter to 
 Jeanie, 464 ; praised by the Duke of 
 Argyle, 470 ; tenor of her letters, 473. 
 See further, Staunton, Lady 
 
 Deans, Jeanie, early association with 
 Butler, 75 ; and the visits of Dumbie- 
 dikes, 78, 86 ; personal description of 
 79 ; admires Butler's learning, 83 ; 
 scolds Effie, 92 ; breaks off her engage- 
 ment, 113; meets Robertson at Mus- 
 chat's Cairn, 142, 147 ; escapes from 
 Sharpitlaw's party, 175 ; diffieulties 
 attending her evidence, 195 ; interview 
 with Effie in jail, 199 ; at the trial, 
 210 ; in the witness-box, 227 ; receives 
 her father's blessing, 243 ; second in- 
 Interview with Effie, 244 ; takes Rat- 
 cliffe's pass, 246 ; asks assistance from 
 Dumbiedikes, 256 ; his Mooing, 257 ; 
 visit to Butler, 266 ; letters to her 
 father, 374, 384 ; to Butler, 275, 886 ; 
 stopped by highwaymen, 284 ; danger 
 in their hut, 296 ; led into churcii by 
 Madge Wildfire, 310 ; brought before 
 Rev. Mr. Staunton, 320 ; interview with 
 George Staunton, 335 ; his relations 
 with Eflie, 326 ; put in Mrs. Dalton's 
 charge, 342 ; escorted to Stamford, 
 345 ; arrives in London, -348 ; interview 
 with Argyle, 351 ; cross-questioned by 
 Mrs. Glass, 358, 381 ; taken to Rich- 
 mond, 360 ; interview with Queen 
 Caroline, 372 ; discusses cheese with 
 the Duke, 379 ; her father's reply to 
 her letter to him, 390 ; presented to the 
 Duchess, 393 ; sets off home, 394 ; at 
 Madge Wildfire's death, 401 ; her dis- 
 tress at the change of route, 406 ; 
 meeting with her father, 413 ; with 
 Butler, 431 ; inspects her future home. 
 
 441 ; delight at seeing the cows, 443 ; 
 unpacks the Argyle presents, 444 ; 
 surprised by Effie at Roseneath, 452 ; 
 marriage to Butler, 457 ; joys and 
 crosses of her married life, 458 ; reads 
 Effie's letter, 464 ; her transitory pique, 
 467 ; surprises Butler with the money 
 476 ; is visited by Lady Staunton, 483 ; 
 visits the Whistler, 519 ; loosens his 
 cords, 520 
 
 Deans, Mrs. Rebecca, 79 
 
 Dempster of court, 236, 639. See alsc 
 Hangman 
 
 Dhu, John, of the City Guard, 24 
 
 Dick, Sir William, of Braid, 184, 539 
 
 Dickson, JIaggie. See Half-hanged 
 Maggie Dickson 
 
 Donacha Dhu, 474, 491 ; attacks Butler 
 and Sir George Staunton, 514 ; killed 
 by Knockdunder, 514 ; his plans, 517 
 
 Doomster of court, 236, 539. .See also 
 Hangman 
 
 Dumbiedikes, old laird of, 69 ; deathbed 
 of, 71 
 
 Dumbiedikes, young laird of, at his 
 father's deathbed, 71 ; his character, 
 73 ; his visits to the Deans, 78, 86 ; his 
 wooing, 87, 257 ; offers money to help 
 Effie, 100, 122 ; appealed to by Jeanie, 
 256 ; married, 420 
 
 Dumbiedikes mansion-house, 250 ; situa- 
 tion of, 534 
 
 Dunbar ton. Castle of, 408 
 
 Dundas, James, younger, of Arniston, 
 120 
 
 Dunover, Mr., mail-coach passenger, 5 ; 
 his history, 13 
 
 Dutton, Mrs., Dolly, 379; curiosity to 
 witness the execution, 396 ; refuses to 
 go on the water, 409 ; appears late for 
 breakfast, 439 ; jealousy of Jeanie's 
 presents, 444 ; refuses to land at Rose- 
 neat li pier, 447 ; sends Meg Murdock- 
 son's Confession to Jeanie, 480 
 
 Edinburgh, City Guard of, 22, 51, 526 : 
 communication with London, 272 ; 
 courts, 209 ; Grassmarket, 16, 26, 39 ; 
 guard-house, 50 ; hangman, 132, 236 ; 
 "Heart of Midlothian " in, 7 ; King's 
 Park, 85, 102, 107, 146 ; Krames, 47 ; 
 Luckenbooths, 47, 51 ; magistrates of, 
 25, 54 ; mob, 30, 48 ; ports, 48, 50 ; stu- 
 dents, 71, 534 ; tolbooth, 7, 46, 53, 527 : 
 Tolbooth Church, 20 
 
 Envoy, Cleishbotham's, 522 
 
 Fairbrother, Effie's counsel, 215, 233 
 Fairies, belief in, 144 ; fairy boy of Leith, 
 
 537 
 Fairscrieve, city-clerk, 133, 153, 178 
 Fair sex, calumniator of, 177 
 Feckless Fannie, 543 
 Ferguson, or Fergusson, on City Guard, 
 
 23 
 Fife, smuggling in, 18 
 Fleming, Archdeacon, of Carlisle, 4801 
 
 497 
 Forbes, Duncan, 888 
 
 Gare, Loch, 412 
 
 Glass, Mrs., her instructions to Jeanie 
 
WAVERLET NOVELS 
 
 556 
 
 tBS ; cross-questions Jeanie, 358, S81 ; 
 
 and the Duke's visit, 387 
 Ooldie, Mrs., of Craigmuie, ix ; her 
 
 daughter's letter, xii 
 " Good even, good fair moon," 170 
 Gordon, Francis, death of 428, 545 
 Grassmarket, Edinburgh, 16 ; execution 
 
 of Wilson in, 26 ; at the execution of 
 
 Porteous, 29 
 Graves, Bow Street officer, on women, 
 
 538 
 Guard-house, Edinburgh, 50 
 Gunnerby Hill, near Grantham, 281 ; 
 
 Jeanie stopped by highwaymen near, 
 
 284 
 
 Half-Hanged Maggie Dickson, 399, 543 
 Halklt, Edinburgh lawyer, 4 
 Hangman of Edinburgh, 132, 236, 536. 
 
 See also Dalgleish and Doomster 
 Harabee Brow Hill, 396 
 Hardie, Edinburgh advocate, 4 
 Hardwicke, Lord, and the Duke of 
 
 Argyle, 350, 540 
 " Headstrong, determined in his own 
 
 career," 348 
 Heart of Midlothian, Edinburgh, 7. See 
 
 Tolbooth 
 Heart of Midlothian, the novel, ix 
 "■ He that is down " 305 
 Hettly, May, 247 ; shows Jeanie the 
 
 cows, 442 
 Highwaymen on the North Road, 284 
 Howden, Mrs., on Porteous's reprieve, 
 
 34, 37 ; on the verdict on Effle, 238 
 
 •'I GLANCE like the wildfire," 160 
 "I'm Madge of the country," 305 
 "In the bonny cells of Bedlam," 290 
 invisible world. Covenanters' belief in, 
 
 106, 144 
 Irongray, place of Helen Walker's 
 
 burial, xiii, 523 
 " It is the bonny butcher lad," 171 
 
 Kelpie's Voice, 526 
 
 King's Advocate, 214, 231 
 
 King's Park, 85, 102, 107, 166 
 
 Knockdunder, Captain of, 435 ; smokes 
 in church, 446 ; his boat run down, 
 455 ; interposes in behalf of Ailie 
 MacClure, 468 ; escorts Lady Staunton 
 to Knocktarlitie, 483 ; hunts Donacha 
 Dhu, 511 ; kills him, 514 
 
 Knocktarlitie, manse of, 441 
 
 Krames of the tolbooth, Edinburgh, 47 
 
 Law-Courts, Edinburgh, 209 
 
 Lawson, Miss Helen, ix 
 
 Lawyer, Scottish, Deans's objection to, 
 116, 120 
 
 Leith, fairy boy of, 537 
 
 Levitt, Frank, highwayman, stops 
 Jeanie, 284 ; colloquy with Meg Mur- 
 dockson, 203 ; committal of, 480 
 
 Liberton, 262 
 
 Lily of St. Leonard's. See Deans, Bffle 
 
 Lincluden Abbey, ix 
 
 Lochaber axe, 24 
 
 Lockman, 132, 236, 536. See also Dal- 
 gleish and Doomster 
 
 London, communication with Edin* 
 
 burgh, 272 
 Lord High Commissioner of Scottish 
 
 Kirk, 496 
 Lords of seat and of session, 37 
 Luckenbooths, 47 51 
 
 Madge Wildfire, before the procuratop 
 158 ; questioned by Ratcliffe, 161 ; 
 leads the officers to Muschat's Cairn, 
 168 ; her conduct towards her mother, 
 182 ; accosts Jeanie on the North 
 Road, 283 ; takes her into her own 
 apartment, 288 ; leads her from the 
 hut, 297 ; quotes Pilgrim's Progress, 
 301, 306 ; tells of her past history, 301 ; 
 bedecks herself with finery, 308 ; en- 
 ters the church, 310 ; her connection 
 with George Staunton, 328 ; appeals 
 to Jeanie at Carlisle, 399 ; her death, 
 401 ; prototype of, 542 
 
 Magistrates of Edinburgh, 25, 54 
 
 Mail-coaches, 1 
 
 Marsport v. l^ackland, 118 
 
 Meiklehose, Elder, 446, 449 
 
 Middleburgh, Bailie, 177 ; visits St 
 Leonard's 185 
 
 Mob of Edinburgh, 30 ; Porteous mob, 
 48-64 
 
 " Much have I fear'd," 10 
 
 Murdockson, Meg, demands her daugh- 
 ter, 180; in the high way men's hut, 
 286 ; her colloquy with Levitt, 293 ; 
 relations with George Staunton, 328, 
 331 ; her execution, 396 ; her Dying 
 Confession, 480 
 
 Muschat's Cairn, 107, 146 ; story of Nicol 
 Muschat, 536 
 
 Netherbow Port, Edinburgh, 50 
 Newark, Jeanie at, 281 
 Novit, Nichil, the attorney, 71 ; his sob 
 acts for Effie, 211 
 
 Ordination oath, Deans on, 423, 447; 
 
 Butler's 445 
 " O sleep ye sound. Sir James," 172 
 Ostler, Dick, 278, 280 
 " Our work is over — over now," 401 
 
 Peden, Life of, quoted, 188 
 Pilgrim's Progress cited, 301, 306 
 Pittenweeni, Wilson's robery at, 18 
 Plumdamas, on Porteous's reprieve, 34, 
 36 ; acts as peacemaker, 238 ; at 
 Saddletree's house, 501 
 Porteous, Captain John, 22, 25; his 
 cruelty to Wilson, 26 ; fires upon the 
 mob, 27 ; reprieved, 32 ; dragged out 
 of the tolbooth, 5S ; hanged, 63 
 Porteous, Mrs., 501 ; indemnified for her 
 
 husband's death, 540 
 Porteous mob, 48-04, .527; official in- 
 quiry into, .528-534 ; Dr. Carlyle's re- 
 collections of, .534 
 Ports, or gates, of Edinburgh, 48, 50 
 Portsburgh, suburb of Edinburgh, 48 
 " Proud Maisie is in the wood," 403 
 
 QuAEERisM, Author's connection with, 
 xvii, 623 
 
F>eu 
 
 INDEX 
 
 Ratolipfk, Jim, refuses to leave the 
 
 tolbooth, 59 ; before the magistrate, 
 130 ; his intei'view with Sharpitlaw, 
 165 ; questions Madge Wildfire, 161 ; 
 goes to Muschat's Cairn, 167; ap- 
 pointed jailer of the tolbooth, 197 ; 
 gives Jeanie his pass, 346 ; his com- 
 munication to Sir George, 515 ; note 
 on, 546 
 
 Richmond Park, scene in, 367; Richmond 
 Hill, view from, 363 
 
 Robertson, Geordie, associated with 
 Wilson, 18 ; attempted escape, 19 ; 
 actual escape, 21 ; his part in the 
 Porteous riot, 59 ; accosted by Butler 
 in the King's Park, 102 ; meets Jeanie 
 at Muschat's Cairn, 147 ; escapes from 
 the police officers, 152 ; See further^ 
 Staunton, George 
 
 Rory Bean, Dumbiedike's pony, 87, 124, 
 259 
 
 Roseneath, 408, 412, 436 
 
 Ross, Alex., his Fortunate Shepherd 
 quoted. 440 
 
 Saddletree, Bartoline, 34 ; his Latin, 
 36 ; discu:5sions with Butler, 36, 40, 
 264 ; oji Effle's case, 43 ; his advice to 
 David Deans, 111, 116; puts the case 
 of Marsport j;. Lackland, 118 ; at Eftie's 
 trial, 211 ; recites Argyle on the Port- 
 eons mob, 240 ; intrudes on Butler, 
 264 ; his version of Crombie v. Mac- 
 Phail, 266 ; in after years, 601 
 Saddletree, Mrs., 35 ; cares of the shop, 
 40 ; takes Effle into her employment, 
 95 ; makes tea for Sir G. Staunton, 
 501 
 St. Anthony's Chapel, 146 
 St. Leonard's Crags, 85 
 Salisbury Crags, near Edinburgh, 66 
 Scotsmen, clannish feeling of, 381 
 Scottish bishops, expulsion of 391, 541 
 Semple, John, 85, 145. 535 
 Sharpitlaw, his interview with Ratcliff e, 
 155 ; examines Madge Wildfire, 158 ; 
 examines Effie, 164 ; attempts to cap- 
 ture Robertson, 167; hia sneer at 
 women, 177, 538 
 Shawfleld's mob, 407, 544 
 Shaws, murder of the two, 243, 541 
 Smuggling in Scotland, 17, 438 
 Somerset stage-coach, 4 
 " Some say that we wan," 393 
 Speculative Society, Edinburgh, 14 
 " Stand to it, noble pikemen," 317 
 Staunton, George, discovers himself to 
 Jeanie, 325 ; his story, 328 ; upbraided 
 by his father. 337 ; offers his life to 
 save Effle's, 344 ; his history, 346 ; ap- 
 pears at Roseneath, 355 ; in the Lord 
 High Commissioner's train, 496 ; seeks 
 Butler's acquaintance, 499 : turns in 
 to the Saddletrees' house, 501 ; assists 
 Mrs. Porteous, 501 ; challenged bv 
 Ratcliffe, 502 ; thinks to offer Butler 
 a 'iving, r05 : lands at Caird's Cove, 
 909; killed, 514 
 
 Staunton, Lady, nrrires at Knocktar- 
 
 litie, 483 ; appearance and manners 
 of, 484, 488 ; her danger at the water- 
 fall, 491 ; her grief for Sir George's 
 death, 515 ; her subsequent history, 
 .520 
 
 Staunton, Rev. Mr., observes Jeanie in 
 church, 312 ; hears her story, 320 ; up- 
 braids his son, 337 : his history, 347 
 
 Stubbs, the ^Villiugham beadle, 314 
 
 Students of Edinburgh, 71. 534 
 
 Suffolk, Lady, 307 
 
 Supernatural visitants, belief in, 106, 
 144, 491 
 
 Surplice, Presbyterian objection to, 312 
 
 Talla Linns, Cameronian conference 
 
 at, 191, 539 
 Thames, from Richmond HiU, 363 
 "■ There's a bloodhound ranging," 173 
 " The water gently down the level slid,'' 
 
 440 
 Thomas, servant at Willingham, 316 
 Tillicidian, Saddletree's collision with, 
 
 265 
 Tolbooth, old, Edinburgh, 7, 46, 527; 
 
 broken into by Porteous mob, 53-56 
 Tolbooth Church, Robertson's escape 
 
 from, 20, 
 Tolling to service, 445, 546 
 Tramp, Gaffer, 398 
 Trees, planting of, 71, 534 
 Tyburn, London, 16 
 Tyburn Tom, highwayman, 284, 480 
 
 Union, the, lament over, 34, 37 
 
 Waiters, Edinburgh gate-keepers, 49 
 
 Walker, Helen, prototype of Jeanie 
 Deans, x, xiii ; her to- '''ine and 
 epitaph, 523 
 
 Walker, Patrick, Cameronian historian, 
 94, .535 ; on Francis Gordon's death, 
 428, 545 ; his book cited, 535, 541, 545 
 
 Wallace Inn, Gandercleugh, 5 
 
 West Port, Edinburgh, 50 
 
 Whackbairn, Liberton schoolmaster, 44, 
 263 
 
 " What did ye wi' the bridal ring," 162 
 
 " When the fight of grace," 403 
 
 " When the gled's In the blue cloud." 
 152 
 
 Whistler, Effle's child, 493; rescues Ladj 
 Staunton, 492 ; captured by Knock- 
 dunder, 514 ; his history, 516, 520 ; es- 
 capes, 519 
 
 Willingham rectory, 315 
 
 Willoughby, Peregrine Bertie. Lord, 
 317 
 
 Wilson, Andrew, smuggler, 18 ; at> 
 tempted escape. 19 ; secures Robert- 
 son's escape, 21 : execution of, 26, 
 Staunton's connection with, 329 
 
 Witchcraft, belief in, 106. 144 
 
 Women, cynical opinion of, 538 
 
 Woodend cottage, 74 
 
 ToRK, James, blacksmith of Lincoln. Sl^ 
 
TALES OF MY LANDLORD 
 
 Hear, Land o' Cakes and brither Scots, 
 Frae Maidenkirk to Johnny Groat's, 
 If there's a hole in a' your coats, 
 
 I rede ye tent it ; 
 i. chiel's amang you takin' notes, 
 
 An' faith he'll prent it ! 
 
 BUEN£ 
 
Ahora Men, dixo il Cura, traedme, senor hu4sped, aguesos libros, 
 que los quiero ver. Que vie place, respondio el, y enirando en su 
 aposento, saco del una maletilla vieja cerrada con una cadenilla, y 
 abriendola hallo en ella tres libros grandes y unos papeles de muy 
 buena letra eseritos de viano. — Don Quixote, Parte I., Capitulo 
 xxxii. 
 
 It is mighty well, said the priest ; pray, landlord, bring me those 
 books, for I have a mind to see them. With all my heart, answered 
 the host ; and going to his chamber, he brought out a little old 
 cloke-bag, with a padlock and chain to it, and opening it, he took 
 out three large volumes, and some manuscript papers written in a 
 fine character. — Jarvis's Translation. 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 TO 
 
 THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR 
 
 The Author, on a former occasion,* declined giving the 
 real source from which lie drew the tragic subject of this 
 history, because, though occurring at a distant period, it might 
 possibly be unpleasing to the feelings of the descendants of 
 the parties, t But as he finds an account of the circumstances 
 given in the Notes to Law's Memorials, X by his ingenious 
 friend, Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe, Esq., and also indicated 
 in his reprint of the Rev, Mr. Symson's poems appended to 
 the Large Description of Galloway, as the original of the 
 Bride of Laniinermoor , the Author feels himself now at 
 liberty to tell the tale as he had it from connections of his 
 own, who lived very near the period, and were closely related 
 to the family of the bride. 
 
 It is well known that the family of Dalrymple, which has 
 produced, within the space of two centuries, as many men of 
 talent, civil and military, and of literary, political, and pro- 
 fessional eminence, as any house in Scotland, first rose into 
 distinction in the person of James Dalrymple, one of the 
 most eminent lawyers that ever lived, though the labors of 
 his powerful mind were unhappily exercised on a subject so 
 limited as Scottish jurisprudence, on which he has composed 
 -in admirable work. 
 
 He married Margaret, daughter to Ross of Balneel, with 
 whoia he obtained a considerable estate. She was an able, 
 politic, and high-minded woman, so successful in what she 
 
 * See Introduction to the Chronicles of the Canongate. 
 t Sae The Family of Stair. Note 1. 
 t Iaw^b Mei.iorials, p. 226. 
 
X WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 undertook, that the vulgar, no way partial to her husband or 
 her family, imputed her success to necromancy. According 
 to the popular belief, this Dame Margaret purchased the 
 temporal prosperity of her family from the Master whom she 
 served under a singular condition, which is thus narrated 
 by the historian of her grandson, the great Earl of Stair ■• 
 " She lived to a great age, and at her death desired that she 
 might not be put under ground, but that her coffin should 
 stand upright on one end of it, promising that while she 
 remained in that situation the Dalrymples should continue 
 to flourish. What was the old lady's motive for the request, 
 or whether she really made such a promise, I shall not take 
 mpon me to determine ; but it's certain her coffin stands up- 
 ' right in the aisle of the church of Kirklistown, the burial- 
 place belonging to the family."* The talents of this accom- 
 plished race were sufficient to have accounted for the digni- 
 ties which many members of the family attained, without any 
 supernatural assistance. But their extraordinary prosperity 
 was attended by some equally singular family misfortunes, of 
 Avhich that wiiich befell their eldest daughter was at once un- 
 accountable and melancholy. 
 
 Miss Janet Dalrymple, daughter of the first Lord Stair 
 and Dame Margaret Eoss, liad engaged herself without the 
 knowledge of her parents to the Lord Rutherford, who was 
 not acceptable to them either on account of his political 
 principles or his want of fortune. The young couple broke 
 a piece of gold together, and pledged their troth in the most 
 solemn manner ; and it is said the young lady imprecated 
 dreadful evils on herself should she break her plighted faith. 
 Shortly after, a suitor who Avas favored by Lord Stair, and 
 still more so by his lady, paid his addresses to Miss Dalrym- 
 ple. Tiic young lady refused the proposal, and being pressed 
 on the subject, confessed her secret engagement. Lady Stair, 
 a woman accustomed to universal submission, for even her 
 husband did not dare to contradict her, treated this objec- 
 tion as a trifle, and insisted upon her daughter yielding her 
 consent to marry the new suitor, David Dunbar, son and 
 keir to David Dunbar of Baldoon, in Wigtonshire. The first 
 lover, a man of very high spirit, then interfered by letter, and 
 insisted on the right he had acquired bv his troth plighted 
 with the young lady. Lady Stair sent him for answer, that 
 her daughter, sensible of her undutiful behavior in entering 
 into a contract unsanctioned by her parents, had retracted 
 
 * Memoirs of John Earl of Stair, by an Importaai Hand. Loedon, printed f# 
 C. Corbett, p. 8. 
 
INTRODUCTION TO THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR xi 
 
 her unlawful vow, and now refused to fulfil her engagement 
 with him. 
 
 The lover, in return, declined positively to receive such 
 an answer from any one but his mistress in person ; and as 
 she had to deal with a man who was both of a most deter- 
 mined character and of too high condition to be trifled with. 
 Lady Stair was obliged to consent to an interview between 
 Lord Kutlierford and her daughter. But she took care to be 
 present in person, and argued the point Avith the disappointed 
 and incensed lover with pertinacity equal to his own. She 
 particularly insisted on the Levitical law, which declares that 
 a woman shall be free of a vow which her parents dissent 
 from. This is the passage of Scripture she founded on : 
 
 "If a man vow a vow unto the Lord, or swear an oath to 
 bind his soul with a bond ; he shall not break his word, he 
 shall do according to all that proceedeth out of his mouth. 
 
 " If a woman also vow a vow unto the Lord, and bind 
 herself by a bond, being in her father's house in her youth ; 
 
 " And her father hear her vow, and her bond wherewith 
 she hath bound her soul, and her father shall hold his peace 
 at her : then all her vows shall stand, and every bond where- 
 with she iiath bound her soul shall stand. 
 
 '' But if her father disallow her in the day that he heareth ; 
 not any of her vows, or of her bonds wherewith she hath 
 bound her soul, shall stand : and the Lord shdl forgive her, 
 because her father disallowed her." — Numbers xxx. 2-5. 
 
 While the mother insisted on these topics, the lover in 
 vain conjured the daughter to declare her own opinion and 
 feelings. She remained totally overwhelmed, as it seemed — 
 mute, pale, and motionless as a statue. Only at her mother's 
 command, sternly uttered, she summoned strength enough to 
 restore to her plighted suitor the piece of broken gold which 
 was the emblem of her troth. On this he burst forth into a 
 tremendous passion, took leave of the mother with maledic- 
 tions, and as he left the apartment, turned back to say to his 
 weak, if not fickle, mistress, " For you, madam, you will be 
 a world's wonder ; " a phrase by which some remarkable de« 
 greo of calamity is usually implied. He went abroad, and 
 returned not again. If the last Lord Rutherford was tha 
 unfortunate party, he miast have been the third who bore th^'' 
 title, and who died in 1G85. 
 
 The marriage betwixt Janet Dalrympleand David Dunba; 
 of Baldoou now went forward, the bride showing no repug 
 nance, but being absolutely passive in everything lier mothei 
 commanded or advised. On the day of the marriage, which. 
 
xii WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 as was then usual, was celebrated by a great assemblage of 
 friends and relations, she was the same — sad, silent, and re- 
 signed, as it seemed, to her destiny. A lady, very nearly 
 connected with the family, told the Author that she had 
 conversed on the subjectt with one of the brothers of the bride, 
 a mere lad at the time, who had ridden before his sister to 
 church. He said her hand, which lay on his as she held her 
 arm round his waist, was as cold and damp as marble. But, 
 full of liis new dress and the part lie acted in the procession, 
 the circumstance, which he long afterwards remembered with 
 bitter sorrow and com2^unction, made no impression on him at 
 the time. 
 
 The bridal feast was followed by dancing. The bride and 
 bridegroom retired as usual, Avhen of a sudden the most wild 
 and piercing cries were heard from the nuptial chamber. It 
 was then the custom, to prevent any coarse pleasantry which 
 old times perhaps admitted, that the key of the nuptial 
 chamber should be intrusted to the bridesman. He was 
 called upon, but refused at first to give it up, till the shrieks 
 became so hideous that he was compelled to hasten with others 
 to learn the cause. On opening the door, they found the 
 bridegroom lying across the threshold, dreadfully wounded, 
 and streaming with blood. The bride was then sought for. 
 She was found in the corner of the lai'ge chimney, having no 
 covering save her shift, and that dabbled in gore. There she 
 sat grinning at them, mopping and mowing, as I heard the 
 expression used ; in a word, absolutely insane. The only 
 words she spoke were, "Tak up your bonny bridegroom." 
 She survived this horrible scene little more than a fortnight, 
 having been married on the 24th of August, and dying on the 
 12th of September, 1669. 
 
 The unfortunate Baldoon recovered from his wounds, but 
 sternly prohibited all inquiries respecting the manner in 
 which he had received them. ''If a lady," he said, " asked 
 him any question upon the subject, he would neither answer 
 her nor speak to her again v/hile he lived ; if a gentleman, he 
 would consider it as a mortal affront, and demand satisfaction 
 as having received such." He did not very long survive the 
 dreadful catastrophe, having met v/ith a fatal injury by a fall 
 from his horse, as he rode between Leith and Holyrood 
 House, of which he died the next day, 28tli March, 1682. 
 Thus a few years removed all the principal actors in this 
 frightful tragedy. 
 
 Various reports went abroad on this mysterious affair, 
 many of them very inaccurate, though they could hardly be 
 
INTRODUCTION TO THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR xiii 
 
 said to be exaggerated.* It was difficult at that time to 
 become acquainted with the liistory of a Scottish family above 
 the lower rank ; and strange things sometimes took place 
 there, into which even the law did not scrupulously inquire. 
 
 The credulous Mr. Law says, generally, that the Lord 
 President Stair had a daughter, who, '* being married, the 
 night she was bride in, was taken from her bridegroom and 
 harled through the liouse [by spirits, we are given to under- 
 stand], and afterward died. Another daughter/^ he says, 
 "was supposed to be possessed with an evil spirit." 
 
 My friend, Mr. Sharpe, gives another edition of the tale. 
 According to his information, it was the bridegroom who 
 wounded the bride. The marriage, according to this account, 
 had been against her mother's inclination, who had given her 
 consent in these ominous words : " Weel, you may marry him, 
 but sair shall you repent it." 
 
 I find still another account darkly insinuated in some highly 
 scurrilous and abusive verses, of which I have an original copy. 
 They are docketed as being written " Upon the late Viscount 
 Stair and his family, by Sir William Hamilton of Whitelaw. 
 The marginals by William Dunlop, writer in Edinburgh, a 
 son of the Laird of Househill, and nephew to the said Sir 
 William Hamilton." There was a bitter and personal quarrel 
 tmd rivalry betwixt the author of this libel, a name which it 
 richly deserves, and Lord President Stair ; and the lampoon, 
 which is written with much more malice than art, bears the 
 following motto : 
 
 Stair's neck, mind, wife, sons, grandson, and the rest, 
 Are "wry, false, witch, pests, parricide, possessed. 
 
 This malignant satirist, who calls up all the misfortunes of 
 the family, does not forget the fatal bridal of Baldoon. He 
 seems, though his verses are as obscure as unpoetical, to inti- 
 mate that the violence done to the bridegroom was by the in- 
 tervention of the foul fiend, to whom tlie young lady had 
 resigned herself, in case she should break her contract with 
 her first lover. His hypothesis is inconsistent witli the ac- 
 count given in the note upon Law's Memorials, but easily 
 reconcilable to the family tradition. 
 
 * There appeared in the Edinburgh Evening Post of Oct. 10, 1840 (and after- 
 wards in the Li ues of the Lindsays, p. 459), a letter dated September 5th, 1823, 
 addressed by Sir C. Home Dalrymple Elphinstone, Bart., to the late Sir James 
 Stewart Deiiham of Joltness, Bart., both descendants of Lord President Stair, 
 from which it appears that, according to the ti-aditional creed of the Dalrymple 
 family, the bride's unhappy lover, Lord Ruthertord, had found means to be 
 secreted in the nuptial chamber, and tliat the wound of the bridegroom. Sir David 
 Dunbar of Baldoon, was inflicted by Rutherford's hand. —J. G. Lockhart. 
 
xiv W AVE RLE Y NOVELS 
 
 In all Stair's offspring we no difference know, 
 
 They do the females as the males bestow ; 
 
 So he of one of liis daughters' marriage gave the ward, 
 
 Like a true vassal, to Glenluce's Laird ; 
 
 He knew what slie did to her master plight. 
 
 If she her faith to Rutherfurd should slight, 
 
 Which, like liis own, for greed he broke outright. 
 
 Nick did Baldoon's posterior right deride, 
 
 And, as first substitute, did seize the bride ; 
 
 Whate'er he to his mistress did or said. 
 
 He threw the bridegroom from the nuptial bed, 
 
 Into the chimney did so his rival maul. 
 
 His bruised bones ne'er were cured but by the fall. * 
 
 One of the marginal notes ascribed to William Dunlop 
 applies to the above lines. " She had betrothed herself to 
 Lord Eutherfoord nnder horrid imprecations, and afterwards 
 married Baldoon, his nevoy, and her mother was the cause of 
 her breach of faith." 
 
 The same tragedy is alluded to in the following couplet 
 and note : 
 
 What train of curses that base brood pursues, 
 When the young nephew weds old uncle's spouse. 
 
 The note on the word "uncle" explains it as meaning 
 " Eutherfoord, who should have married the Lady Baldoon, 
 was Baldoon's uncle." The poetry of this satire on Lord 
 Stair and his family was, as already noticed, written by Sir 
 William llumilton of Whitelaw, v. rival of Lord Stair for the 
 situation of President of the Court of Session ; a person much 
 inferior to that great lawyer in talents, and equally ill-treated 
 by the calumny or just satire of his contemporaries as an un- 
 just and partial judge. Some of the notes are by that curious 
 and laborious antiquary, Eobert Milne, who, as a virulent 
 Jacobite, willingly lent a hand to blacken the family of 
 Stair, t 
 
 Another poet of the period, with a very different purpose, 
 has left an elegy, in which he darkly hints at and bemoans 
 the fate of the ill-starred young person, whose very un- 
 common calamity Whitelaw, Dunlop, and Milne thought a 
 fitting subject for buffoonery and ribaldry. This bard of 
 milder mood Avas Andrew Symson, before the Eevolution 
 minister of Kirkinner, in Galloway, and after his expulsion 
 
 * The fall from his horse, by ■which he was killed. 
 
 1 1 have compared the satire, which occurs in the first volume of the curious 
 little collection called a Book of Scottish Pasqxiils, 1827, with that which has a more 
 full text and more extended notes, and which is in mj' own possession, by gift of 
 Thomas Thomson, Esq., Register-Depute. In the Book of Pasquils, p. 72. is » 
 most abusive epitaph on Sir AVilliam Hamilton of Whitelaw. 
 
INTRODUCTION TO THE BRIDE OE LAMMERMOOR xv 
 
 as an Episcopalian following the humble occupation of a 
 printer in Edinburgh. He furnished the family of Baldoon, 
 with which he appears to have been intimate, with an elegy 
 on the tragic event in their family. In this piece he treats 
 the mournful occasion of the bride's death with mysterious 
 solemnity. 
 
 The verses bear this title, " On the unexpected death of 
 the virtuous Lady Mrs. Janet Dalrymple, Lady Baldoon, 
 younger," and afford us the precise dates of the catastrophe, 
 which could not otherwise have been easily ascertained. 
 "• Nupta August 12. Domum Ducta August 24. Obiit 
 September 12. Sepult. September 30, 1669." The form 
 of the elegy is a dialogue betwixt a passenger and a domestic 
 servant. The first, recollecting that he had passed that way 
 lately, and seen all around enlivened by the appearances of 
 mirth and festivity, is desirous to know what had changed so 
 gay a scene into mourning. We preserve the reply of the 
 servant as a specimen of Mr. Symson's verses, which are not 
 ' f the first quality : 
 
 Sir, 'tis truth you've told. 
 We did enjoy great mirth ; but now, ah me 1 
 Our joyful song's turn'd to an elegie. 
 A virtuous lady, not long since a bride. 
 Was to a hopeful plant by marriage tied, 
 And brought home hither. We did all rejoice, 
 Even for her sake. But presently our voice 
 ■ Was turn'd to mourning for that little time 
 That she'd enjoy : she waned in her prime, 
 For Atropus, with her impartial knife. 
 Soon cut her thread, and therewithal her life ; 
 And for the time we may it well remember, 
 It being in unfortunate September ; 
 
 Where we must leave her till the resurrection, 
 "Tis then the Saints enjoy their full perfection.* 
 
 Mr. Symson also poured forth his elegiac strains upon the 
 fate of the widowed bridegroom, on which subject, after a 
 long and querulous effusion, the poet arrives at the sound con- 
 clusion, that if Baldoon had walked on foot, which it seems 
 was his general custom, he would have escaped perishing by 
 a fall from horseback. As the work in which it occurs is so 
 
 * TJalfi elegy is reprinted in the appendix to a topographical work by the same 
 author, entitled A Large Description of GaUoivay, by Andrew Symson, Minister of 
 Kirkinner, gvo, Tait, Edinburgh, 18A3. Tlie reverend gentleman's elegies are 
 ixtftsmfcly rare, nor did the Author ever see a copy but his own, which i:; bound up 
 with the Tttpatriarchicon, a religious poem from the Biblical History, by the same 
 author. 
 
xvi WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 scarce as almost to be unique, and as it gives us the most full 
 account of one of tlie actors in this tragic tale which we have 
 rehearsed, we will, at the risk of being tedious, insert some 
 short specimens of Mr. Symson's composition. It is en- 
 titled— 
 
 " A Funeral Elegie, occasioned by the sad and much 
 lamented death of that worthily respected, and very much ac- 
 complished gentleman, David Dunbar, younger, of Baldoon, 
 only son and apparent lieir to the right worshipful Sir David 
 Dunbar of Baldoon, Knight Baronet. He departed this life 
 on March 28, 1682, having received a bruise by a fall, as he 
 was riding the day preceding betwixt Leith and Holyrood 
 House ; and was honorably interred in the Abbey Church of 
 Holyrood House, on April 4, 1682.^' 
 
 Men might, and very justly too, conclude 
 
 Me guilty of the worst ingratitude, 
 
 Should I be silent, or should I forbear 
 
 At this sad accident to shed a tear ; 
 
 A tear 1 said I ? ah ! that's a petit thing, 
 
 A very lean, slight, slender offering. 
 
 Too mean, I'm sure, for me, wherewith t'attend 
 
 The unexpected funeral of my friend : 
 
 A glass of briny tears charged up to th' brim. 
 
 Would be too few for me to shed for him. 
 
 The poet proceeds to state his intimacy with the deceased, 
 and the constancy of the young man's attendance on public 
 worship, which was regular, and had such effect upon two or 
 three others that were influenced by his example. 
 
 So that my Muse 'gainst Priscian avers, 
 He, only he, were my parishioners ; 
 Yea, and my only hearers. 
 
 He then describes the deceased in person and manners, 
 from which it appears that more accomplishments were ex- 
 pected in the composition of a fine gentleman in ancient than 
 modern times : 
 
 His body, though not very large or tall. 
 Was sprightly, active, yea and strong withal. 
 His constitution was, if right I've guess'd, 
 Blood mixt with choler, said to be the best. 
 In's gesture, converse, speech, discourse, attire. 
 He practis'd that which wise men still admire. 
 Commend, and recommend. What's that ? you'll say. 
 'Tis this : he ever choos'd the middle way 
 'Twixt both th' extremes. Amost in ev'ry thing 
 He did the like, 'ti-i wovth our noticing : 
 
INTRODUCTION TO THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR xvii 
 
 Sparing, yet not a niggard ; liberal, 
 
 And yet not lavish or a prodigal. 
 
 As knowing when to spend and when to spare ; 
 
 And that's a lesson which not many are 
 
 Acquainted with. He bashful was, yet daring 
 
 When he saw cause, and yet therein but sparing ; 
 
 Familiar, yet not common, for he knew 
 
 To condescend, and keep his distance too. 
 
 He us'd, and that most commonly, to go 
 
 On foot ; I wish that he had still done so. 
 
 Th' affairs of court were imto him well known ; 
 
 And yet meanwhile he shghted not his own. 
 
 He knew full well how to behave at court, 
 
 And yet but seldom did thereto resort ; 
 
 But lov'd the country life, choos'd to inure 
 
 Himself to past'rage and agriculture ; 
 
 Proving, improving, ditching, trenching, draining, 
 
 Viewing, reviewing, and by those means gaining ; 
 
 Planting, transplanting, leveUing, ei-ecting 
 
 Walls, chambers, houses, terraces ; projecting 
 
 Now this, now that device, this draught, that measure. 
 
 That might advance his profit with his pleasure. 
 
 Quick in his bargains, honest in commerce. 
 
 Just in his dealings, being much averse 
 
 From quirks of law, still ready to refer 
 
 His cause t' an honest country arbiter. 
 
 He was acquainted with cosmography, 
 
 Arithmetic, and modern history ; 
 
 With architecture and such arts as these, 
 
 Which I may call specifick sciences 
 
 Fit for a gentleman ; and surely he 
 
 That knows them not, at least in some degree, 
 
 May brook the title, but he wants the thing. 
 
 Is but a shadow scarce worth noticing. 
 
 He learned the French, be't spoken to his praise, 
 
 In very little more than fourty days. 
 
 Then comes the fall bnrst of woe, in which, instead oi 
 saying much himself, the poet informs us what the ancients 
 would have said on such an occasion : 
 
 A heathen poet, at the news, no doubt, 
 
 Would have exclaimed, and furiously cry'd out 
 
 Against the fates, the destinies and starrs. 
 
 What I this the effect of planetarie warrs ! 
 
 We might have seen him rage and rave, yea worse, 
 
 'lifl very like we might have heard him curse 
 
 The year, the month, the day, the hour, the place. 
 
 The company, the wager, and the race ; 
 
 Decry all recreations, with the names 
 
 Of Isthmian, Pythian, and Olympick games ; 
 
xviii WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 Exclaim against them all both old and new, 
 Both the Nemaean and the Lethaean too : 
 Adjudge all persons, under highest pain, 
 Always to walk on foot, and then again 
 Order all horses to be hough'd, that we 
 Might never more the like adventure see. 
 
 Supposing our readers have had enough of Mr. Symson's 
 woe, and finding nothing more in his poem worthy of tran- 
 scription, we return to the tragic story. 
 
 It is needless to point out to the intelligent reader that 
 the witchcraft of the mother consisted only in the ascendency 
 of a powerful mind over a weak and melancholy one, and 
 that the harshness with which she exercised her superiority in 
 a case of delicacy had driven her daughter first to despair, 
 then to frenzy. Accordingly, the Author has endeavored to 
 explain the tragic tale on this principle. Whatever resem- 
 blance Lady Ashton may be supposect to possess to the cele- 
 brated Dame Margaret Ross, the reader must not suppose 
 that there was any idea of tracing the portrait of the first 
 Lord Viscount Stair in the tricky and mean-spirited Sir Will- 
 iam Ashton. Lord Stair, wliatever might be his moral qual- 
 ities, was certainly one of the first statesmen and lawyers of 
 his age. 
 
 The imaginary castle of Wolf's Crag has been identified 
 by some lover ®f locality with that of Fast Castle. The 
 Author is not competent to judge of the resemblance betwixt 
 the real and imaginary scene, having never seen Fast Castle 
 except from the sea. But fortalices of this description are 
 found occuj)ying, like ospreys' nests, projecting rocks, or 
 promontories, in many parts of the eastern coast of Scotland, 
 and the position of Fast Castle seems certainly to resemble 
 that of Wolf's Crag as much as any other, while its vicinity 
 to the mountain ridge of Lammermoor renders the assimila- 
 tion a probable one. 
 
 We have only to add, that the death of the unfortunate 
 bridegroom by a fall from horseback has been in the novel 
 transferred to the no less unfortunate lover.* 
 
 * See the account of how this novel was composed in Lockhart's Life of Scott, 
 voL vi., p. &&etseq., ed. 1868 QLaing'). 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 By cauk and keel to win your bread, 
 Wi' whigmaleeries for them wha need, 
 Whilk is a gentle trade indeed 
 
 To carry the gaberlunzie on. 
 
 Old Song. 
 
 Few have been in my secret while I was compiling these 
 luirratives, nor is it probable that they will ever become pub- 
 lic during the life of their author. Even were that event tc 
 happen, I am not ambitious of the honored distinction, digito 
 monstrari. I confess that, were it safe to cherish such 
 dreams at all, I should more enjoy the thought of remaining 
 behind the curtain unseen, like the ingenious manager of 
 Punch and his wife Joan, and enjoying the astonishment and 
 conjectures of my audience. Then might I, perchance, hear 
 the productions of the obscure Peter Pattieson praised by the 
 judicious and admired by the feeling, engrossing the young 
 and attracting even the old ; while the critic traced their fame 
 up to some name of literary celebrity, and the question when, 
 and by whom, these tales were written filled up the pause of 
 conversation in a hundred circles and coteries. This I may 
 never enjoy during my lifetime ; but farther than this, I am 
 certain, my vanity should never induce me to aspire. 
 
 I am too stubborn in habits, and too little polished in 
 manners, to envy or aspire to the honors assigned to my liter- 
 ary contemporaries. I could not think a whit more highly 
 of myself were I even found worthy to ""'come in place as a 
 lion " for a winter in the great metropolis. I could not rise, 
 turn round, and show all my honors, from the shaggy mane 
 to the tufted tail, -' roar you an 'tAvere any nightingale," and 
 so lie down again like a well-behaved beast of show, and all 
 at the cheap and easy rate of a cup of coffee and a slice of 
 bread and butter as thin as a wafer. And I could ill stomach 
 
2 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 the fulsome flattery with which the lady of the evening in- 
 dulges her show-monsters on such occasions, as she crams her 
 parrots with sugar-plums, in order to make them talk before 
 company. I cannot be tempted to '''come aloft "" for these 
 marks of distinction, and, like imprisoned Sampson, I would 
 rather remain — if such must be the alternative — all my life 
 in the mill-house, grinding for my very bread, than be 
 brought forth to make sport for the Philistine lords and 
 ladies. This proceeds from no dislike, real or affected, to the 
 aristocracy of these realms. But they have their place, and 
 I have mine ; and, like the iron and earthen vessels in the 
 old fable, we can scarce come into collision without my being 
 the sufferer in every sense. It may be otherwise with the 
 sheets which I am now writing. These may be opened and 
 laid aside at pleasure ; by amusing themselves with the peru- 
 sal, the great will excite no false hopes ; by neglecting or 
 condemning them, they will inflict no pain ; and how seldom 
 can they converse with those whose minds have toiled for 
 their delight without doing either the one or the other. 
 
 In the better and wiser tone of feeling which Ovid only 
 expresses in one line to retract in that which follows, I can 
 address these quires — 
 
 Parve, nee invideo, sine me, liber, ibis in urbem. 
 
 Nor do I join the regret of the illustrious exile, that he 
 himself could not in person accompany the volume, which he 
 sent forth to the mart of literature, jjleasure, and luxury. 
 Were there not a hundred similar instances on record, the fate 
 of my poor friend and school-fellow, Dick Tinto, would be 
 sufficient to warn me against seeking happiness in the celeb- 
 rity which attaches itself to a successful cultivator of the fine 
 arts. 
 
 Dick Tinto, when he wrote himself artist, was wont to 
 derive his origin from the ancient family of Tinto, of that ilk, 
 in Lanarkshire, and occasionally hinted that he had somewhat 
 derogated from his gentle blood in using the pencil for his 
 principal means of support. But if Dick's pedigree was cor- 
 rect, some of his ancestors must have suffered a more heavy 
 declension, since the good man his father executed the neces- 
 sary, and, I trust, the honest, but certainly not very distin- 
 guished, employment of tailor in ordinary to the village of 
 Langdirdum in the west. Under his humble roof was Eichard 
 born, and to his father's humble trade was Richard, greatly 
 contrary to his inclination, early indentured. Old Mr. Tinto 
 had, however, no reason to congratulate himself upon having 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR 3 
 
 compelled the youthful genius of his sou to forsake its natural 
 bent. He fared like the schoolboy who attempts to stop with 
 his finger tlie spout of a water cistern, while the stream, exas- 
 perated at this compression, escapes by a thousand uncalcu- 
 lated spirits, and wets him all over for his pains. Even so 
 fared the senior Tinto, when his hopeful apprentice not only 
 exhausted all the chalk in making sketches upon the shop- 
 board, but even executed several caricatures of his father's 
 best customers, who began loudly to murmur, that it was too 
 hard to have their persons deformed by the vestments of the 
 father, and to be at the same time turned into ridicule by the 
 pencil of the son. This led to discredit and loss of practice, 
 until the old tailor, yielding to destiny and to the entreaties of 
 his son, permitted him to attempt his fortune in a line for 
 which he was better qualified. 
 
 There was about this time, in the village of Langdirdum, 
 a peripatetic brother of the brush, who exercised his vocation 
 sub Jovefrigido, the object of admiration to all the boys of 
 the village, but especially to Dick Tinto. The age had not 
 yet adopted, among other unworthy retrenchments, that illib- 
 eral measure of economy which, supplying by written char- 
 acters tlie lack of symbolical representation, closes one open 
 and easily accessible avenue of instruction and emolument 
 against the students of the fine arts. It was not yet per- 
 mitted to write upon the plastered doorway of an alehouse, 
 or the suspended sign of an inn, "The Old Magpie," or 
 " The Saracen's Head," substituting that cold description for 
 the lively effigies of the plumed chatterer, or the turbaned 
 frown of the terrific soldan. That early and more simple age 
 considered alike the necessities of all ranks, and depicted the 
 symbols of good cheer so as to be obvious to all capacities ; 
 well Judging that a man who could not read a syllable might 
 nevertheless love a pot of good ale as well as his better-edu- 
 cate 1 neigiibors, or even as the parson himself. Acting uj)on 
 this liberal principle, publicans as yet hung forth the painted 
 emblems of their calling, and sign-painters, if they seldom 
 feasted, did not at least absolutely starve. 
 
 To a worthy of this decayed profession, as we have already 
 intimated, Dick Tinto became an assistant ; and thus, as is 
 not unusual among heaven-born geniuses in this department 
 of the fine arts, began to paint before he had any notion of 
 drawing. 
 
 His talent for observing nature soon induced him to rec- 
 tify the errors, and soar above the instructions, of his 
 teacher. He particularly shone in painting horses, that being 
 
4 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 a favorite sign in the Scottish villages ; and, in tracing his 
 progress, it is beautiful to observe how by degrees he learned 
 to shorten the backs and prolong the legs of these noble ani- 
 mals, until they came to look less like crocodiles, and more 
 like nags. Detraction, which always pursues merit with 
 strides proportioned to its advancement, has indeed alleged 
 that Dick once upon a time painted a horse with five legs in- 
 stead of four. 1 might have rested his defence upon the 
 license allowed to that branch of his profession, which, as it 
 permits all sorts of singular and irregular combinations, may 
 be allowed to extend itself so far as to bestow a limb super- 
 numerary on a favorite subject. But the cause of a deceased 
 friend is sacred ; and I disdain to bottom it so superficially. 
 I have visited the sign in question, which yet swings exalted 
 in the village of Langdirdum ; and I am ready to depone 
 upon oath that what has been idly mistaken or misrepre- 
 sented as being the fifth leg of the horse, is, in fact, the tail 
 of that quadruped, and, considered with reference to the pos- 
 ture in which he is delineated, forms a circumstance in- 
 troduced and managed with great and successful, though 
 daring, art. The nag being represented in a rampant or rear- 
 ing posture, the tail, which is prolonged till it touches the 
 ground, appears to form a point d'ajjpui, and gives the firm- 
 ness of a tripod to the figure, without which it would be 
 difficult to conceive, placed as the feet are, how the courser 
 could maintain his ground without tumbling backwards. 
 This bold conception has fortunately fallen into the custody 
 of one by whom it is duly valued ; for, when Dick, in his 
 more advanced state of proficiency, became dubious of the 
 propriety of so daring a deviation from the established rules 
 of art, and was desirous to execute a picture of the publican 
 himself in exchange for this Juvenile production, the cour- 
 teous offer was declined by his judicious employer, who had 
 observed, it seems, that when his ale failed to do its duty in 
 conciliating his guests, one glance at his sign was sure to put 
 them in good humor. 
 
 It would be foreign to my present purpose to trace the 
 steps by which Dick Tinto improved his touch, and corrected, 
 by the rules of art, the luxuriance of a fervid imagination. 
 The scales fell from his eyes on viewing the sketches of a con- 
 temporary, the Scottish Teniers, as Wilkie has been deservedly 
 styled. He threw down the brush, took up the crayons, and, 
 amid hunger and toil, and suspense and uncertainty, pur- 
 sued the path of his profession under better auspices than 
 those of his original master. Still the first rude emanations 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR 5 
 
 of his genius, like the nursery rhymes of Pope, could these 
 be recovered, will be dear to the companions of Dick Tinto's 
 youth. There is a tankard and gridiron painted over the 
 door of an obscure change-house in tlie Back Wynd of Gan- 
 dercleugh But I feel I must tear myself from the sub- 
 ject, or dwell on it too long. 
 
 Amid his wants and struggles, Dick Tinto had recourse, 
 like his brethren, to levying that tax upon the vanity of man- 
 kind which he could not extract from their taste and liberality 
 — in a word, he painted portraits. It was in this more ad- 
 vanced state of proficiency, when Dick had soared above his 
 original line of business, and highly disdained any allusion to 
 it, that, after having been estranged for several years, we 
 again met in the village of Gandercleugh, I holding my 
 present situation, and Dick painting copies of the human 
 face divine at a guinea per head. This was a small premium, 
 yet, in the first burst of business, it more than sufficed for all 
 Dick's moderate wants ; so that he occupied an apartment at 
 the Wallace Inn, cracked his jest with impunity even upon 
 mine host himself, and lived in respect and observance with 
 the chambermaid, hostler, and waiter. 
 
 Those halcyon days were too serene to last long. When 
 his honor the Laird of Gandercleugh, with his wife and three 
 daiigliters, the minister, the ganger, mine esteemed patron 
 Mr. Jedediah Cleishbotham, and some round dozen of the 
 feuars and farmers, had been consigned to immortality by 
 Tinto's brush, custom began to slacken, and it was impossible 
 to wring more than crowns and half-crowns from the hard 
 hands of the peasants whose ambition led them to Dick's 
 paintiug-room. 
 
 Still, though the horizon was overclouded, no storm for 
 some time ensued. Mine host had Christian faith with a 
 lodger who had been a good paymaster as long as he had the 
 means. And from a portrait of our landlord himself, grouped 
 with his wife and daughters, in the style of Eubens, which 
 suddenly appeared in the best parlor, it was evident that Dick 
 had found some mode of bartering art for the necessaries of 
 life. 
 
 Nothing, however, is more precarioits than resources of this 
 nature. It was observed that Dick became in his turn the 
 whetstone of mine host's wit, without venturing eitlier at de- 
 fence or retaliation ; that his easel was transferred to a gar- 
 ret-room, in which there was scarce space for it to stand 
 upright ; and that he no longer ventured to join the weekly 
 club, of which ke had been once the life and soul. In short. 
 
6 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 Dick Tinto's friends feared that he had acted like the animal 
 called the sloth, which, having eaten up the last green leaf 
 upon the tree where it has established itself, ends by tumbling 
 down from the top, and dying of inanition. I ventured to 
 hint this to Dick, recommended his transferring the exercise 
 of his inestimable talent to some other sphere, and forsaking 
 the common which he miglit be said to have eaten bare. 
 
 " There is an obstacle to my change of residence," said 
 my friend, grasping my hand with a look of solemnity. 
 
 " A bill due to my landlord, I am afraid ? " replied I, with 
 heartfelt sympathy ; "^ if any part of my slender means can 
 assist in this emergence " 
 
 "^ No, by the soul of Sir Joshua ! '' answered the generous 
 youth, " I will never involve a friend in the consequences of 
 my own misfortune. There is a mode by which I can regain 
 my libert}^ ; and to creep even through a common sewer is 
 better than to remain in pi'ison," 
 
 I did not perfectly understand. what my friend meant. The 
 muse of painting appeared to have failed him, and what other 
 goddess he could invoke in his distress was a mystery to me. 
 We parted, however, without farther explanation, and I did 
 not again see him until three days after, when he summoned 
 me to partake of the " foy " with which his landlord proj)osed 
 to regale him ere his departure for Edinburgh. 
 
 I found Dick in high sjDirits, whistling while he buckled 
 the small knapsack which contained his colors, brushes, pa- 
 lettes, and clean shirt. That he j)arted on the best terms with 
 mine host was obvious from the cold beef set forth in the low 
 parlor, flanked by two mugs of admirable brown stout ; and 
 I own my curiosity was excited concerning the means through 
 which the face of my friend's affairs had been so suddenly 
 improved. I did not suspect Dick of dealing with the devil, 
 and by what earthly means he had extricated himself thus 
 happily I was at a total loss to conjecture. 
 
 He perceived my curiosity, and took me by the hand. 
 ''My friend," he said, "fain would I conceal, even from you, 
 the degradation to which it has been necessary to submit, in 
 order to accomplish an honorable retreat from Gandercleugh. 
 But what avails attempting to conceal that which must needs 
 betray itself even by its superior excellence ? All the village 
 — all the parish — all the world — will soon discover to what 
 poverty has reduced Richard Tinto." 
 
 A sudden thouglit here struck me. I had observed that 
 our landlord wore, on that memorable morning, a pair of bran 
 new velveteens, instead of his ancient thicksets. 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR 7 
 
 ''"What," said I, drawing my right hand, with the fore- 
 finger and thumb pressed together, nimbly from my right 
 haunch to my left shoulder, '"you have condescended to re- 
 sume the paternal arts to which you were first bred — long 
 stitches, ha, Dick ? " 
 
 He repelled this unlucky conjecture with a frown and a 
 pshaw, indicative of indignant contempt, and leading me into 
 another room, showed me, resting against the wall, the majes- 
 tic head of Sir William Wallace, grim as when severed from 
 the trunk by the orders of the felon Edward. 
 
 The painting was executed on boards of a substantial 
 thickness, aud the top decorated with irons, for suspending 
 the honored effigy upon a signpost. 
 
 ''There," he said, "my friend, stands the honor of Scot- 
 land, and my shame ; yet not so — rather the shame of those 
 who, instead of encouraging art in its proper sphere, reduce 
 it to these unbecoming and unworthy extremities. " 
 
 I endeavored to smooth the ruffled feelings of my misused 
 and indignant friend. I reminded him that he ought not, 
 like the stag in the fable, to despise the quality which had 
 extricated him from difficulties, in which his talents, as a 
 portrait or landscape painter, had been found unavailing. 
 Above all, I praised the execution, as Avell as conception, of his 
 painting, and reminded him that, far from feeling dishonored 
 by so superb a specimen of his talents being exposed to the 
 general view of the public, he ought rather to congratulate 
 himself upon the agumentation of his celebrity to which its 
 public exhibition must necessarily give rise. 
 
 " You are right, my friend — you are right," replied poor 
 Dick, his eye kindling with enthusiasm ; " why should I shun 
 the name of an — an — [he hesitated for a phrase] — an out-of- 
 doors artist ? Hogarth has introduced himself in that char- 
 acter in one of his best engravings ; Domenichino, or somebody 
 else, in ancient times, Morland in our own, have exercised 
 their talents in this manner. And wherefore limit to the rich 
 and higher classes alone the delight which the exhibition of 
 works of art is calculated to inspire into all classes ? Statues 
 are placed in the open air, why should Painting be more nig- 
 gardly in displaying her masterpieces than her sister Sculpture ? 
 And yet, my friend, we must part suddenly ; the carpenter is 
 coming in an hour to put up the — the emblem ; and truly, with 
 all my philosophy, and your consolatory encouragement to 
 boot, I would rather wish to leave Gandercleugh before that 
 operation commences." 
 
 We partook of our genial host's parting banquet, and I 
 
8 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 escorted Dick on his walk to Edinburgh. We parted about a 
 mile from the village, just as we heard the distant cheer of the 
 boys which accompanied the mounting of the new symbol of 
 the Wallace Head. Dick Tinto mended his pace to get out of 
 hearing, so little had either early practice or recent philosophy 
 reconciled him to the character of a sign-painter. 
 
 In Edinburgh, Dick's talents were discovered and appreci- 
 ated, and he received dinners and hints from several distin- 
 guished judges of the fine arts. But these gentlemen dispensed 
 their criticism more willingly than their cash, and Dick thought 
 he needed cash more than criticism. He therefore sought 
 London, the universal mart of talent, and where, as is usual 
 in general marts of most descriptions, much more of each 
 commodity is exposed to sale than can ever find purchasers. 
 
 Dick, who, in serious earnest, was supposed to have con- 
 siderable natural talents for his profession, and whose vain 
 and sanguine disposition never permitted him to doubt for a 
 moment of ultimate success, threw himself headlong into the 
 crowd which jostled and struggled for notice and preferment. 
 He elbowed others, and was elbowed himself ; and finally, by 
 dint of intrepidity, fought his way into some notice, painted 
 for the prize at the Institution, had pictures at the exhibi- 
 tion at Somerset House, and damned the hanging committee. 
 But poor Dick was doomed to lose the field he fought so gal- 
 lantly. In the fine arts, there is scarce an alternative betwixt 
 distinguished success and absolute failure ; and as Dick's 
 zeal and industry were unable to insure the first, he fell into 
 the distresses which, in his condition, were the natural conse- 
 quences of the latter alternative. He was for a time patron- 
 ized by one or two of those judicious persons who make a 
 virtue of being singular, and of pitching their own opinions 
 against those of the world in matters of taste and criticism. 
 But they soon tired of poor Tinto, and laid him down as a 
 load, upon the principle on which a spoiled child throws away 
 its plaything. Misery, I fear, took him up, and accompanied 
 him to a premature grave, to which he was carried from an 
 obscure lodging in Swallow Street, where he had been dunned 
 by his landlady within doors, and watched by bailiffs without, 
 until death came to his relief. A corner of the Morning 
 Post noticed his death, generously adding, that his manner 
 displayed considerable genius, though his style was rather 
 sketchy ; and referred to an advertisement, which announced 
 that Mr. Varnish, a well-known printseller, had still on hand 
 a very few drawings and paintings by Richard Tinto, Esquire, 
 which those of the nobility and gentry who might wish to 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR 9 
 
 complete their collections of modern art were invited to visit 
 without delay. So ended Dick Tinto ! a lamentable proof of 
 the great truth, that in the tine arts mediocrity is not per- 
 mitted, and that he who cannot ascend to the very top of the 
 ladder will do well not to put his foot upon it at all. 
 
 The memory of Tinto is dear to me, from the recollection 
 of the many conversations which we have had together, most of 
 them turning upon my present task. He was deliglited with 
 my progress, and talked of an ornamented and illustrated 
 edition, witli heads, vignettes, and culs de lampe, all to be 
 designed by his own patriotic and friendly pencil. He pre- 
 vailed upon an old sergeant of invalids to sit to him in the 
 character of Bothwell, the lifeguard^s-man of Charles the 
 Second, and the bellman of Gandercleugh in that of David 
 Deans, liut Avhile he thus proposed to unite his own powers 
 with mine for the illustration of these narratives, he mixed 
 many a dose of salutary criticism with the panegyrics which 
 my composition was at times so fortunate as to call forth. 
 
 " Your characters," he said, " my dear Pattieson, make 
 too much use of the goh hox ; they patter too much [an ele- 
 gant phraseology which Dick had learned while painting the 
 scenes of an itinerant company of players] ; there is nothing in 
 whole pages but mere chat and dialogue." 
 
 " The ancient philosopher," said I in reply, " was wont 
 to say, ' Speak, that I may know thee ; ' and how is it possi- 
 ble for an author to introduce his personce dramatis to his 
 readers in a more interesting and effectual manner than by 
 the dialogue in which each is represented as supporting his 
 own appropriate character ?" 
 
 " It is a false conclusion," said Tinto ; " I hate it, Peter, 
 as I hate an unfilled can. I will grant you, indeed, that 
 speech is a faculty of some value in the intercourse of human 
 affairs, and I will not even insist on the doctrine of that 
 Pythagorean toper, who was of opinion that over a bottle 
 speaking spoiled conversation. But I will not allow that a 
 professor of the fine arts has occasion to embody the idea of 
 his scene in language, in order to impress upon the reader 
 its reality and its effect. On the contrary, I will be judged 
 by most of your readers, Peter, should these tales ever become 
 public, whether you have not given us a page of talk for every 
 single idea which two words might have communicated, 
 while the posture, and manner, and incident, accurately 
 drawn, and brought out by appropriate coloring, would have 
 preserved all that was worthy of preservation, and saved these 
 everlasting ' said he's ' and ' said she's,' with which it has 
 been your pleasure to encumber your pages.'* 
 
10 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 I replied. " That lie confounded tlie operations of the pen- 
 cil and the pen ; that the serene and silent art, as painting 
 has been called by one of our first living poets, necessarily ap- 
 pealed to the eye, because it had not the organs for addressing 
 the ear ; whereas poetry, or that species of composition which 
 approached to it, lay under the necessity of doing absolutely 
 the reverse, and addressed itself to the ear, for the purpose of 
 exciting that interest which it could not attain through the 
 medium of the eye/' 
 
 Dick was not a whit staggered by my argument, which lie 
 contended was founded on misrepresentation. "Description," 
 he said, " was to the author of a romance exactly what draw- 
 ing and tinting were to a painter : words were his colors, and, 
 if properly employed, they could not fail to place the scene 
 which he wished to conjure upas effectually before the mind's 
 eye as the tablet or canvas presents it to the bodily organ. The 
 same rules," he contended, "applied to both, and an exuber- 
 ance of dialogue, in the form er case, was a verbose and labor- 
 ious mode of composition which went to confound the proper 
 art of fictitious narrative with that of the drama, a widely 
 different species of composition, of which dialogue was the 
 very essence, because all, excepting the language to be made 
 use of, was presented to the eye by the dresses, and persons, 
 and actions of the performers upon the stage. But as noth- 
 ing," said Dick, "can be more dull than a long narrative 
 written upon the plan of a drama, so where you have ap- 
 proached most near to that species of composition, by in- 
 dulging in prolonged scenes of mere conversation, the course 
 of your story has become chill and constrained, and you have 
 lost the power of arresting the attention and exciting the 
 imagination, in which uj^on other occasions you may be con- 
 sidered as having succeeded tolerably well." 
 
 I made my bow in requital of the compliment, which was 
 probably thrown in by way of |j/aceJo, and expressed myself 
 Avilling at least to make one trial of a more straightforward 
 style of composition, in which my actors should do more, and 
 say less, than in my former attempts of this kind. Dick 
 gave me a patrorazing and approving nod, and observed that, 
 finding me so docile, he would communicate, for the benefit 
 of my muse, a subject which he had studied with a view to 
 his own art. 
 
 "The story," he said, "was, by tradition, affirmed to be 
 truth, although, as upwards of a hundred years had passed 
 away since the events took place, some doubts upon the ac- 
 curacy of all the particulars might be reasonably entertained." 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR 11 
 
 When Dick Tinto had thus sj'^ken, he rummaged his 
 portfolio for the sketch from whicli he proposed one day to 
 execute a picture of fourteen feet by eight. The sketch, 
 which was cleverly executed, to use the appropriate 
 phrase, represented an ancient hall, fitted up and furnished 
 in what we now call the taste of Queen Elizabeth's age. The 
 light, admitted from the upper part of a high casement, fell 
 upon a female figure of exquisite beauty, who, in an attitude 
 of speechless terror, appeared to watch the issue of a debate 
 betwixt two other persons. The one was a young man, in the 
 Vandyke dress common to the time of Charles I., who, with 
 an air of indignant pride, testified by the manner in which 
 he raised his head and extended his arm, seemed to be urging 
 a claim of right, rather than of favor, to a lady whose age, 
 and some resemblance in their features, pointed her out as 
 the mother of the younger female, and who appeared to listen 
 with a mixture of displeasure and impatience. 
 
 Tinto produced his sketch with an air of mysterious tri- 
 umph, and gazed on it as a fond parent looks upon a hopeful 
 child, while he anticipates the future figure he is to make in 
 the world, and the height to which he will raise the honor of 
 his family. He held it at arm's length from me — he held it 
 closer — he placed it upon the cop of a chest of drawers — 
 closed the lower shutters of the casement, to adjust a down- 
 ward and favorable light — fell back to the due distance, 
 dragging me after him — shaded his face with his hand, as if 
 to exclude all but the favorite object — and ended by spoiling 
 a child's copy-book, which he rolled up so as to serve for the 
 darkened tube of an amateur. I fancy my expressions of 
 enthusiasm had not been in proportion to his own, for he 
 presently exclaimed with veliemence, " Mr. Pattieson, I used 
 to think you had an eye in your head." 
 
 I vindicated my claim to the usual allowance of visual 
 organs. 
 
 " Yet, on my honor," said Dick, ''I would swear you had 
 been born blind, since you have failed at the first glance to 
 discover the subject and meaning of that sketch. I do not 
 mean to praise my own performance, I leave these arts to 
 others; I am sensible of my deficiencies, conscious that my 
 drawing and coloring may be improved by the time I intend 
 to dedicate to the art. But the conception — the expression 
 — the positions — these tell the story to every one who looks 
 at the sketch ; and if I can finish tlie picture without diminu- 
 tion of the original conception, the name of Tinto shall no 
 more be smothered by the mists of envy and intrigue. " 
 
12 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 I replied, " That I admired the sketch exceedingly ; but 
 that to understand its full merit, I felt it absolutely necessary 
 to be informed of the subject/' 
 
 '' That is the very thing I complain of/' answered Tinto ; 
 "you have accustomed yourself so much to these creeping 
 twilight details of yours, that you are become incapable of 
 receiving that instant and vivid flash of conviction which 
 darts on the mind from seeing tlie happy and expressive com- 
 binations of a single scene, and which gathers from the po- 
 sition, attitude, and countenance of the moment, not only the 
 history of the past lives of the personages represented, and 
 the nature of the business on which they are immediately en- 
 gaged, but lifts even the veil of futurity, and affords a shrewd 
 guess at their future fortunes.'' 
 
 " In that case," replied I, "Painting excels the ape of the 
 renowned Gines de Passamonte, which only meddled with the 
 past and the present ; nay, she excels that very Nature who 
 affords her subjects ; for I protest to you, Dick, that were I 
 permitted to peep into that Elizabeth-chamber, and see the 
 persons you have sketched conversing in flesh and blood, I 
 should not be a jot nearer guessing the nature of their busi- 
 ness than I am at this moment while looking at your sketch. 
 Only generally, from the languishing look of the young lady, 
 and the care you have taken to present a very handsome leg 
 on the part of the gentleman, I presume there is some refer- 
 ence to a love affair between them."' 
 
 "Do you really presume to form such a bold conjecture ?" 
 said Tinto. "And the indignant earnestness with which you 
 see the man urge his suit, the unresisting and passive despair 
 of the younger female, the stern air of inflexible determination 
 in the elder woman, whose looks express at once consciousness 
 that she is acting wrong and a firm determination to persist 
 in the course slie has adopted " 
 
 "If her looks express all this, my dear Tinto," replied I, 
 interrupting him, "your pencil rivals the dramatic art of 
 Mr. Puff in The Critic, who crammed a whole complicated 
 sentence into the expressive shake of Lord Burleigh's head." 
 
 "My good friend, Peter." replied Tinto, "I observe you 
 are perfectly incorrigible ; however, I have compassion on 
 your dulness, and am unwilling you should be deprived of 
 the pleasure of understanding my picture, and of gaining, at 
 the same tiire, a subject for your own pen. You must know 
 then, last summer, while I was taking sketches on the coast 
 of East Lothian and Berwickshire, I was seduced into the 
 mountains of Lammermoor by the account I received of some 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR 13 
 
 remains of antiquity in that district. Those witli whicli I was 
 most struck were tlie ruins of an ancient castle in which that 
 Elizabeth-chamber, as you call it, once existed. I resided for 
 two or three days at a farmhouse in the neighborhood, where 
 the aged goodwife was well acquainted with the history of the 
 castle, and the erents which had taken place in it. One of 
 these was of a nature so interesting and singular, that my at- 
 tention was divided between my wish to draw the old ruins in 
 landscape, and to represent, in a history-piece, the singular 
 events which have taken place in it. Here are my notes of 
 the tale," said poor Dick, handing a parcel of loose scraps, 
 partly scratched over with his pencil, partly with his pen, 
 where outlines of caricatures, sketches of turrets, mills, old 
 gables, and dovecots, disputed the ground with his written 
 memoranda. 
 
 I proceeded, however, to decipher the substance of the 
 manuscript as well as I coiild, and wove it into the following 
 Tale, in which, following in part, though not entirely, my 
 friend Tinto's advice, I endeavored to render my narrative 
 rather descriptive than dramatic. My favorite propensity, 
 however, has at times overcome me, and my persons, like 
 many others in this talking world, speak now and then a 
 great deal more than they act. * 
 
 * See Lockhart's Life of Scott, vol. vi., p. 6«, •tc. 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 Well, lords, we have not got that which we have ; 
 'Tis not enough our foes are this time fled, 
 Being opposites of such repairing nature, 
 
 Henry VI., Part II. 
 
 Its the gorge of a pass or monntain glen, ascending from the 
 fertile plains of East Lothian, there stood in former times 
 an extensive castle, of which only the ruins are now visible. 
 Its ancient proprietors were a race of powerful and warlike 
 barons, who bore the same name with the castle itself, which 
 was Eavenswood. Their line extended to a remote period of 
 antiquity, and they had intermarried with the Douglasses, 
 Humes, Swintons, Hays, and other families of power and dis- 
 tinction in the same country. Their history was ' frequently 
 involved in that of Scotland itself, in whose annals their feats 
 are recorded. The Castle of Ravenswood, occupying, and in 
 some measure commanding, a pass betwixt Berwickshire, or 
 the Merse, as the southeastern province of Scotland is termed, 
 and the Lothians, was of importance both in times of foreign 
 war and domestic discord. It was frequently besieged with 
 ardor, and defended Vt^ith obstinacy, and, of course, its owners 
 played a conspicuous part in story. But their house had its 
 revolutions, like all sublunary things ; it became greatly de- 
 clined from its splendor about the middle of the 17th century ; 
 and towards the period of the Revolution, the last proprietor 
 of Ravenswood Castle saw himself compelled to part with the 
 ancient family seat, and to remove himself to a lonely and 
 sea-beaten tower, which, situated on the bleak shores between 
 St. Abb's Head and the village of Eyemouth, looked out on 
 the lonely and boisterous German Ocean. A black domain 
 of wild pasture-land surrounded their new residence, and 
 formed the remains of their property. 
 
 Lord Ravenswood, the heir of this ruined family, was far 
 from bending his mind to his new condition of life. In the 
 civil war of 1689 he had espoused the sinking side, and al- 
 though he had escaped without the forfeiture of life or land, 
 his blood had been attainted, and his title abolished. He was 
 now called Lord Ravenswood only in courtesy. 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR 15 
 
 This forfeited nobleman inherited the pride and turbu- 
 lence, though not the fortune, of his house, and, as he im- 
 puted the final declension of his family to a particular 
 individual, he honored that person with his full portion of 
 hatred. This was the very man who had now become, by 
 purchase, proprietor of Ravenswood, and the domains of 
 which the heir of the house now stood dispossessed. He was 
 descended of a family much less ancient than that of Lord 
 Ravenswood, and which had only risen to wealth and politi- 
 cal importance during the great civil wars. He himself had 
 been bred to tlie bar, and had held high offices in the state, 
 maintaining through life the character of a skilful fisher in 
 the troubled waters of a state divided by factions, and gov- 
 erned by delegated authority ; and of one who contrived to 
 amass considerable sums of money in a country where there 
 was but little to be gathered, and who equally knew the value 
 of wealth and the various means of augmenting it and using 
 it as an engine of increasing his power and influence. 
 
 Thus qualified and gifted, he was a dangerous antagonist 
 to the fierce and imprudent Ravenswood. Whether he had 
 given him good cause for the enmity with which the Baron 
 regarded him, was a poiut on which men spoke differently. 
 Some said tiie quarrel arose merely from the vindictive spirit 
 and envy of Lord Ravenswood, who could not patiently be- 
 hold another, thougli by just and fair purchase, become the 
 proprietor of the estate and castle of his forefathers. But 
 the greater part of the public, prone to slander the wealthy 
 in their abseuce as to flatter them in their presence, held a 
 less charitable opinion. They said that the Lord Keeper (for 
 to this height Sir William Ashton had ascended) had, pre- 
 vious to the final purchase of the estate of Ravenswood, been 
 concerned in extensive pecuniary transactions with the former 
 proprietor ; and, rather intimating what was probable than 
 affirming anything positively, they asked which party was 
 likely to have the advantage in stating and enforcing the 
 claims arising out of these complicated affairs, and more than 
 hinted the advantages which the cool lawyer and able poli- 
 tician must necessarily possess over the hot, fiery, and im- 
 prudent character whom he had involved in legal toils and 
 pecuniary snares. 
 
 The character of the times aggravated these suspicions. 
 "In those days there was no king in Israel." Since the de- 
 parture of James VI. to assume the richer and more powerful 
 crown of England, there had existed in Scotland contending 
 parties, formed among the aristocracy, by whom, as their in- 
 
16 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 trigues at the court of St. James's chanced to prevail, fe , 
 delegated powers of sovereignty were alternately swayed. The 
 evils attending upon this system of government resemble those 
 which afflict the tenants of" an Irish estate, the property of an 
 absentee. There was no supreme power, claiming and possess- 
 ing a general interest with the community at large, to whom 
 the oppressed might appeal from subordinate tyranny, either 
 for justice or for mercy. Let a monarch be as indolent, as 
 selfish, as much disjDosed to arbitrary power as he will, still, 
 in a free country, his own interests are so clearly connected 
 with those of the public at large, and the evil consequences to 
 his own authority are so obvious and imminent when a differ- 
 ent course is pursued, that common policy, as well as common 
 feeling, point to the equal distribution of justice, and to the 
 establishment of the throne in righteousness. Thus, even 
 sovereigns remarkable for usurpation and tyranny have been 
 found rigorous in the administration of justice among their 
 subjects, in cases where their own power and j)assions were 
 not compromised. 
 
 It is very different when the powers of sovereignty are 
 delegated to the head of an aristocratic faction, rivalled and 
 pressed closely in the race of ambition by an adverse leader. 
 His brief and precarious enjoyment of power must be em- 
 ployed in rewarding his partisans, in extending his influence, 
 in oppressing and crushing his adversaries. Even Abou Has- 
 san, the most disinterested of all viceroys, forgot not, during 
 his caliphate of one day, to send a douceur of one thousand 
 pieces of gold to his own household ; and the Scottish vice- 
 gerents, raised to power by the strength of their faction, failed 
 not to embrace the same means of rewarding them. 
 
 The administration of justice, in particular, was infected 
 by the most gross partiality. A case of importance scarcely 
 occurred in which there was not some ground for bias or 
 partiality on the part of the judges, who were so little able to 
 withstand the temptation that the adage, " Show me the man, 
 and I will show you the law," became as prevalent as it was 
 scandalous. One corruption led the way to others still more 
 gross and profligate. The judge who lent his sacred authority 
 in one case to support a friend, and in another to crush an 
 enemy, and whose decisions were founded on family connec- 
 tions or political relations, could not be supposed inaccessible 
 to direct personal motives ; and the purse of the wealthy was 
 too often believed to be thrown into the scale to weigh down 
 the cause of the poor litigant. The subordinate officers of the 
 law affected little scruple concerning bribery. Pieces of plate 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOh 17 
 
 and bags of niouey were sent in presents to the king's counsel, 
 to influence their conduct, and poured forth, says a contem- 
 porary writer, like billets of wood upon their floors, without 
 even the decency of concealment. 
 
 In such times, it.was not over uncharitable to suppose that 
 the statesman, practiced in courts of law, and a powerful 
 member of a triumphant cabal, might find and use means of 
 advantage over his less skilful and less favored adversary ; 
 and if it had been supposed that Sir William Ash ton's con- 
 science had been too delicate to profit by these advantages, it 
 was believed that his ambition and desire of extending his 
 wealth and consequence found as strong a stimulus in the 
 exhortations of his lady as the daring aim of Macbeth in the 
 days of yore. 
 
 Lady Ashton was of a family more distinguished than that 
 of her lord, an advantage which she did not fail to use to the 
 uttermost, in maintaining and extending her husband's influence 
 over others, and, unless she was greatly belied, her own over 
 him. She had been beautiful, and was stately and majestic 
 in her appearance. Endowed by nature with strong powers 
 and violent passions, experience had taught her to employ the 
 one, and to conceal, if not to moderate, the other. She was a 
 severe and strict observer of the external forms, at least, of de- 
 votion ; her hospitality was splendid, even to ostentation ; her 
 address and manners, agreeable to the pattern most valued in 
 Scotland at the period, were grave, dignified, and severely reg- 
 ulated by the rules of etiquette. Her character had always 
 been beyond the breath of slander. And yet, with all these 
 qualities to excite respect. Lady Ashton was seldom mentioned 
 in the terms of love or affection. Interest — the interest of 
 her family, if not her own — seemed too obviously the motive 
 of her actions ; and where this is the case, the sharp-judging 
 and malignant public are not easily imposed upon by outward 
 show. It was seen and ascertained that, in her most graceful 
 courtesies and compliments. Lady Ashton no more lost sight 
 of her object than the falcon in his airy wheel turns his quick 
 eyes from his destined quarry ; and hence, something of doubt 
 and suspicion qualified the feelings with which her equals re- 
 ceived her attentions. With her inferiors these feelings were 
 mingled with fear ; an impression useful to her purposes, to 
 far as it enforced ready compliance with her requests and im- 
 plicit obedience to her commands, but detrimental, because 
 it cannot exist with affection or regard. 
 
 Even her husband, it is said, upon whose fortunes her 
 talents and address had produced such emphatic influence. 
 
18 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 regarded her with respectful awe rather than confiding attach- 
 ment; and report said, there were times wlien he considered 
 his grandeur as dearly purchased at the expense of domestic 
 thraldom. Of this, however, much might be suspected, but 
 little could be accurately known : Lady Ashton regarded the 
 honor of her husband as her own, and was well aware how 
 much that would sutfer in the public eye should he appear a 
 vassal to his wife. In all her arguments his opinion was 
 quoted as infallible ; his taste was appealed to, and his senti- 
 ments received, with the air of deference which a dutiful wife 
 might seem to owe to a husband of Sir William Ashton's rank 
 and character. But there was something under all this Avhich 
 rang false and hollow ; and to those wlio watched this couple 
 with close, and perhaps malicious, scrutiny it seemed evident 
 that, in the haughtiness of a firmer character, higher birth, 
 and "-.i^re decided views of aggrandizement, the lady looked 
 with ooaie contempt on her iiusband, and that he regarded 
 her with jealous fear, rather than with love or admiration. 
 
 Still, however, the leading and favorite interests of Sir 
 William Ashton and his lady were the same, and they failed 
 not to work in concert, although without cordiality, and to 
 testify, in all exterior circumstances, that respect for each 
 other which they were aware was necessary to secure that of 
 the public. 
 
 Their union was crowned with several children, of whom 
 three survived. One, the eldest son, was absent on his travels ; 
 the second, a girl of seventeen, and the third, a boy about 
 three years younger, resided with their parents in Edinburgh 
 during the sessions of the Scottish Parliament and Privy Coun- 
 cil, at other times in the old Grothic castle of Ravenswood, to 
 which the Lord Keeper had made large additions in the style 
 of the 17th century. 
 
 Allan Lord Ravenswood, the late proprietor of that 
 ancient mansion and the large estate annexed to it, continued 
 for some time to wage ineffectual war with his successor con- 
 cerning various points to which their former transactions had 
 given rise, and which were successively determined in favor 
 of the wealthy and powerful competitor, until death closed 
 the litigation, by summoning Ravenswood to a higher bar. 
 The thread of life, which had been long wasting, gave way 
 during a fit of violent and impotent fury with which he was 
 assailed on receiving the news of the loss of a cause, founded, 
 perhaps, rather in equity than in law, the last which he had 
 maintained against his powerful antagonist. His son wit- 
 nessed his dying agonies, and heard the curses which he 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR 19 
 
 breathed against his adversary, as if tliey had conveyed to him 
 a legacy of vengeance. Other circumstances hapi)ened to 
 exasperate a passion wliicli was, and had long been, a preva- 
 lent vice in the Scottish disposition. 
 
 It was a November morning, and the cliffs which over- 
 looked the ocean were hung with thick and heavy mist, when 
 the portals of the ancient and half -ruinous tower, in which 
 Lord Eavenswood had spent the last and troubled years of 
 his life, opened, that his mortal remains might pass forward 
 to an abode yet more dreary and lonely. The pomp of attend- 
 ance, to which the deceased had, in his latter years, been a 
 stranger, was revived as he was about to be consigned to the 
 realms of forgetfulness. 
 
 Banner after banner, with the various devices and coats of 
 this ancient family and its connections, followed each other in 
 mournful procession from under the low-browed archway of 
 the courtyard. The principal gentry of the country attended 
 in the deepest mourning, and tempered the pace of their long 
 train of horses to the solemn march befitting the occasion. 
 Trumpets, with banners of crape attached to them, sent forth 
 their long and melancholy notes to regulate the movements 
 of the procession. An immense train of inferior mourners 
 and menials closed the rear, which had not yet issued from 
 the castle gate when the van had reached the chapel where 
 the body was to be deposited. 
 
 Contrary to the custom, and even to the law, of the time, 
 the bod}^ was met by a priest of the Scottish Episcopal com- 
 munion, arrayed in his surplice, and prepared to read over the 
 coffin of the deceased the funeral service of the church. Such 
 had been the desire of Lord Ravenswood in his last illness, 
 and it was readily complied with by the Tory gentlemen, or 
 Cavaliers, as they affected to style themselves, in which faction 
 most of his kinsmen were enrolled. The Presbyterian Church 
 judicatory of the bounds, considering the ceremony as a bra- 
 vading insult upon their authority, had applied to ^tlie Lord 
 Keeper, as the nearest privy councillor, for a warrant to prevent 
 its being carried into eft'ect ; so that, when the clergyman had 
 opened his prayer-book, an officer of the law% supported by 
 some armed men, commanded him to be silent. An insult 
 which fired the whole assembly with indignation was particu- 
 larly and instantly resented by the only son of the deceased, 
 Edgar, popularly called the Master of Eavenswood, a youth 
 of about twenty years of age. He clapped his hand on his 
 sword, and, bidding the official 2)erpon to desist at his peril 
 from farther kiterruptiou, commanded the clergyman to pro- 
 
20 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 ceed. The man attempted to enforce his commission ; bnt as 
 a hundred swords at once glittered in the air, he contented 
 himself with protesting against the violence which had been 
 offered to him in the execution of his duty, and stood aloof, a 
 sullen and moody spectator of the ceremonial, muttering as 
 one who should say, "You'll rue the day that clogs me with 
 this answer." 
 
 The scene was worthy of an artist's pencil. Under the 
 very arch of the house of death, the clergyman, affrighted at 
 the scene, and trembling for his own saiety, hastily and un- 
 willingly rehearsed the solemn service of the church, ana 
 spoke "dust to dust and ashes to ashes," over ruined pride 
 and decayed prosperity. Around stood the relations of the 
 deceased, their countenances more in anger than in sorrow, 
 and the drawn swords which they brandished forming a violent 
 contrast with their deep mourning habits. In the counte- 
 nance of the young man alone, resentment seemed for the 
 moment overpowered by the deep agony with which he beheld 
 his nearest, and almost his only, friend consigned to the tomb 
 of his ancestry. A relative observed him turn deadly pale, 
 when, all rites being now duly observed, it became the duty 
 of the chief mourner to lower down into the charnel vault, 
 where mouldering coffins showed their tattered velvet and 
 decayed plating, the head of the corpse which was to be their 
 partner in corruption. He stepped to the youth and offered his 
 assistance, which, by a mute motion, Edgar Eavenswood re- 
 jected. Firmly, and without a tear, he performed that last 
 duty. The stone was laid on the sepulchre, the door of the 
 aisle was locked, and the youth took possession of its massive 
 key. 
 
 As the crowd left the chapel, he paused on the steps 
 which led to its Gothic chancel. " Gentlemen and friends," 
 he said, "you have this day done no common duty to the body 
 of your deceased kinsman. The rites of due observance, which, 
 in other countries, are allowed as the due of the meanest 
 Christian', would this day have been denied to the body ol 
 your relative — not certainly sprung of the meanest house in 
 Scotland — had it not been assured to him by your courage. 
 Others bury their dead in sorrow and tears, in silence and in 
 reverence ; our funeral rites are marred by the intrusion of 
 bailiffs and ruffians, and our grief — the grief diie to our de- 
 parted friend — is chased from our cheeks by the glow of just 
 indignation. But it is well that I know from what quiver 
 this arrow has come forth. It was only he that dug the grave 
 who could have the mean cruelty to disturb the obsequies ; 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR 31 
 
 and Heaven do as much to me and more, if I requite not to 
 this man and his house the ruin and disgrace he has brought 
 on me and mine ! " 
 
 A numerous part of the assembly applauded this speech, as 
 the spirited expression of just resentment ; but the more cool 
 and judicious regretted tluit it had been uttered. The fortunes 
 of the heir of Eavenswood were too low to brave the farther 
 hostility which they imagined these open expressions of re- 
 sentment must necessarily provoke. Their apprehensions, 
 however, proved groundless, at least in the immediate conse- 
 quences of this affair. 
 
 The mourners returned to the tower, there, according to 
 a custom but recently abolished in Scotland, to carouse deep 
 healths to the memory of the deceased, to make the house of 
 sorrow ring with sounds of jovialty and debauch, and to 
 diminish, by tlie expense of a large and profuse entertain- 
 ment, the limited revenues of the heir of him whose funeral 
 they thus strangely honored. It was the custom, however, 
 and on the present occasion it was fully observed. The tables 
 swam in wine, the populace feasted in the courtyard, the yeo- 
 men in the kitchen and buttery , and two years' rent of Ra- 
 veiiswood's remaining property hardly defrayed the charge of 
 the funeral revel. The wine did its office on all but the Mas- 
 ter of Ravenswood, a title which he still retained, though for- 
 feiture had attached to that of his father. He, while passing 
 around the cup wiiich he himself did not taste, soon listened 
 to a thousand exclamations against the Lord Keeper, and 
 passionate protestations of attachment to himself, and to the 
 honor of his house. He listened with dark and sullen brow 
 to ebullitions which he considered justly as equally evanescent 
 with the crimson bubbles on the brink of the goblet, or at 
 least witli the vapors which its contents excited in the brains 
 of the revellers around him. 
 
 When the last flask was emptied, they took their leave 
 with deep protestations — to be forgotten on the morrow, if, 
 indeed, those who made them should not think it necessary 
 for their safety to make a more solemn retractation. 
 
 Accepting their adieus with an air of contempt which he 
 could scarce conceal, Ravenswood at length beheld his ruinous 
 habitation cleared of this confluence of riotous guests, and 
 returned to the deserted hall, which now appeared doubly 
 lonely from the cessation of that clamor to which it had so 
 lately echoed. But its space was peopled by phantoms which 
 the imagination of the young heir conjured up before him — 
 the tarnished honor and degraded fortunes of his house, the 
 
83 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 destruction of his own hopes, and the triumph of that family 
 by whom the}^ had been ruined. To a mind naturally of 
 a gloomy cast here was ample room for meditation, and the 
 musings of 3'Oung Ravenswood were deep and unwitnessed. 
 
 The peasant who shows the ruins of the tower, wiiich still 
 crown the beetling cliff and behold the war of the waves, 
 though no more tenanted save by the sea-mew and cormorant, 
 even yet affirms that on this fatal night the Master of Ravens- 
 wood, by the bitter exclamations of his despair, evoked some 
 evil fiend, under whose malignant influence the future tissue 
 of incidents was woven. Alas ! what fiend can suggest more 
 desperate counsels than those adopted under the guidance of 
 our own violent and unresisted passions ? 
 
CHAPTEE III 
 
 Orer Gods forebode, then said the King, 
 That thou shouldst shoot at me, 
 
 Williavi Bell, dim o' the Cleugh, etc. 
 
 On the morning after the funeral, the legal officer whose 
 authority had been found insufficient to effect an interruption 
 of the funeral solemnities of the late Lord Ravenswood, 
 hastened to state before the Keeper the resistance which he 
 had met with in the execution of his office. 
 
 The statesman was seated in a spacious library, once a 
 banqueting-room in the old Castle of Eavenswood, as was 
 evident from the armorial insignia still displayed on the carved 
 roof, which was vaulted with Spanish chestnut, and on the 
 stained glass of the casement, through which gleamed a dim 
 yet rich light on the long rows of shelves, bending under the 
 weight of legal commentators and monkish historians, whose 
 ponderous volumes formed the chief and most valued contents 
 of a Scottish historian [library] of the period. On the mas- 
 sive oaken table and reading-desk lay a confused mass of let- 
 ters, petitions, and parchments ; to toil among which was 
 the pleasure at once and the plague of Sir AVilliam Ashton's 
 life. His appearance was grave and even noble, well becom- 
 ing one who held a high office in the state ; and it was not 
 save after long and intimate conversation with him upon 
 topics of pressing and personal interest, that a stranger could 
 have discovered something vacillating and uncertain in his 
 resolutions ; an infirmity of purpose, arising from a cautious 
 and timid disposition, which, as he was conscious of its inter- 
 nal influence on his mind, he was, from pride as well as policy, 
 most anxious to conceal from others. 
 
 He listened with great apparent composure to an exagger- 
 ated account of the tumult which had taken place at the 
 funeral, of the contempt thrown on his own authority and 
 that of the church and state ; nor did he seem moved even 
 by the faithful report of the insulting and threatening lan- 
 guage which had been uttered by young Eavenswood and 
 others, and obviously directed against himself. He heard. 
 
24 WAVE RLE Y NOVELS 
 
 also, what the man had been able to collect, in a very dis- 
 torted and aggravated shape, of the toasts which had been 
 drunk, and the menaces uttered, at the subsequent entertain- 
 ment. In fine, he made careful notes of all these particulars, 
 and of the names of the persons by whom, in case of need, 
 an accusation, founded upon these violent proceedings, could 
 be witnessed and made good, and dismissed his informer, 
 secure that he was now master of the remaining fortune, 
 and even of the personal liberty, of young Kavenswood. 
 
 Wiien the door had closed upon the officer of the law, the 
 Lord Keeper remained for a moment in deep meditation ; 
 then, starting from his seat, paced the apartment as one about 
 to take a sudden and energetic resolution. " Young Ravens- 
 wood," he muttered, "is now mine — he is my own ; he has 
 placed himself in my hand, and he shall bend or break. I 
 have not forgot the determined and dogged obstinacy with 
 which his father fought every point to the last, resisted every 
 effort at compromise, embroiled me in lawsuits, and attempt- 
 ed to assail my cliaracter wlien he could not otherwise impugn 
 my rights. This boy he has left behind him — tliis Edgar — 
 this hot-headed, hare-brained fool, has wrecked his vessel be- 
 fore she has cleared the harbor. I must see that he gains no 
 advantage of some turning tide which may again float him off. 
 These memoranda, properly stated to the privy council, can- 
 not but be construed into an aggravated riot, in which the 
 dignity both of the civil and ecclesiastical authorities stands 
 committed. A heavy fine might be imposed ; an order for 
 committing him to Edinburgh or Blackness Castle seems not 
 improper ; even a charge of treason might be laid on many of 
 these words and expressions, though God forbid I should 
 prosecute the matter to that extent. No, I will not ; I will 
 not touch his life, even if it should be in my power ; and yet, 
 if he lives till a change of times, what follows ? Restitution — 
 perhaps revenge. I know Athole promised his interest to 
 old Ravenswood, and here is his son already bandying and 
 making a faction by his own contemptible influence. What 
 a ready tool he would be for tlie use of those who are watch- 
 ing the downfall of our administration ! " 
 
 While these thoughts were agitating the mind of the wily 
 statesman, and while he was persuading himself that his own 
 interest and safety, as well as tliose of his friends and party, 
 depended on using the present advantage to the uttermost 
 against young Ravenswood, the Lord Keeper sat down to 
 his desk, and proceeded to draw up, for the information of 
 the privy council, an account of tibe disorderly proceedings 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR 25 
 
 whicli, in contempt of his warrant, had taken place at the 
 funeral of Lord Kavenswood. The names of most of the 
 parties concerned, as well as the fact itself, would, he was 
 well aware, sound odiously in the ears of his colleagues in 
 administration, and most likely instigate them to make an 
 example of young Ravenswood, at least, in terrorem. 
 
 It was a point of delicacy, however, to select such expres- 
 sions as might infer tlie young man's culpability, without 
 seeming directly to urge it, which, on the part of Sir William 
 Ashton, his father's ancient antagonist, could not but appear 
 odious and invidious. AVhile he was in the act of composition, 
 laboring to find words which might indicate Edgar Ravens- 
 wood to be the cause of the uproar, without specifically mak- 
 ing such a charge. Sir William, in a pause of his task, chanced, 
 in looking upward, to see the crest of the family for whose 
 heir he was whetting the arrows and disposing the toils of the 
 law carved upon one of the corbeilles from which the vaulted 
 roof of the apartment sprang. It was a black bull's head, 
 with the legend. "' I bide my time ; " and the occasion upon 
 which it was adopted mingled itself singularly and impres- 
 sively with the subject of his present reflections. 
 
 It was said ]\v a constant tradition that a Malisius de Ra- 
 venswood had, in the 13th century, been deprived of his castle 
 and lands by a powerful usurper, who had for a while enjoyed 
 his spoils in quiet. At length, on the eve of a costly banquet, 
 Ravenswood, who had watched his opportunity, introduced 
 liimself into the castle with a small band of faithful retainers. 
 The serving of the expected feast was impatiently looked for 
 by the guests, and clamorously demanded by the temporary 
 master of the castle. Ravenswood, who had assumed the dis- 
 guise of a sewer upon the occasion, answered, in a stern voice, 
 "I bide my time ;" and at tlie same moment a bull's head, the 
 ancient symbol of death, was placed upon the table. The ex- 
 plosion of the conspiracy took place upon the signal, and the 
 usurper and his followers were put to death. Perhaps there was 
 something in this still known and often repeated story which 
 came immediately home to tlie breast and conscience of the 
 Lord Keeper ; for, putting from him the paper on whicli he had 
 begun his report, and carefully locking the memoranda which 
 he had prepared into a cabinet which stood beside him, he 
 proceeded to walk abroad, as if for the purpose of collecting 
 his ideas, and reflecting farther on the consequences of the 
 step which he was about to take, ere yet they became inevitable. 
 
 In passing through a large Gothic anteroom, Sir William 
 Ashton heard the sound of his daughter's lute. Music, when 
 
26 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 the performers are concealed, affects ns with a pleasure mingled 
 
 with surprise, and reminds us of the natural concert of birds 
 among the leafy bowers. The statesman, though little accus- 
 tomed to give way to emotions of this natural and simple 
 class, was still a man and a father. He stopped, therefore, 
 and listened, while the silver tones of Lucy Ashton's voice 
 mingled with the accompaniment in an ancient air, to which 
 some one had adapted the following words : 
 
 *' Look not thou on beauty's charming, 
 Sit thou still when kings are arming, 
 Taste not when the wine-cup glistens, 
 Speak not when the people listens, 
 Stop thine ear against the singer, 
 From the red gold keep thy finger, 
 Vacant heart, and hand, and eye. 
 Easy live and quiet die." 
 
 The sounds ceased, and the Keeper entered his daughter's 
 apartment. 
 
 The words she had chosen seemed particularly adapted to 
 her character ; for Lucy Ashton^s exquisitely beautiful, yet 
 somewhat girlish features were formed to express peace of 
 mind, serenity, and indifference to the tinsel of worldly pleas- 
 ure. Her locks, which were of shadowy gold, divided on a 
 brow of exquisite whiteness, like a gleam of broken and pallid 
 sunshine upon a hill of snow. The expression of the counte- 
 nance was in the last degree gentle, soft, timid, and feminine, 
 and seemed rather to shrink from the most casual look of a 
 stranger than to court his admiration. Something there was 
 of a Madonna cast, perhaps the result of delicate health, and 
 of residence in a family where the dispositions of the inmates 
 were fiercer, more active, and energetic than her own. 
 
 Yet her passiveness of disposition was by no means owing 
 to an indifferent or unfeeling mind. Left to the impulse of 
 her own taste and feelings, Lucy Ashton was peculiarly ac- 
 cessible to those of a romantic cast. Her secret delight was 
 in the old legendary tales of ardent devotion and unalterable 
 affection, checkered as they so often are with strange adven- 
 tures and supernatural horrors. This was her favored fairy 
 realm, and here she erected her aerial palaces. But it was 
 only in secret that she labored at this delusive though delight- 
 ful architecture. In her retired chamber, or in the wood- 
 land bower which she had chosen for her own, and called 
 after her name, she was in fancy distributing the prizes at 
 the tournament, or raining down influence from her eyes on 
 the valiant combatants ; or she was wandering in the wilder- 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR 27 
 
 ness with Una, under escort of the generous lion ; or she was 
 identifying herself with the simple yet noble-minded Miranda 
 in the isle of wonder and enchantment. 
 
 But in her exterior relations to things of this world, Lucy 
 willingly received the ruling impulse from those around her. 
 The alternative was, in general, too indifferent to her to ren- 
 der resistance desirable, and she willingly found a motive for 
 decision in the opinion of her friends which perhaps she 
 might have sought for in vain in her own choice. Every 
 reader must have observed in some family of his acquaint- 
 ance some individual of a temper soft and yielding, who, 
 mixed with stronger and more ardent minds, is borne along 
 by the will of others, with as little power of opposition as the 
 flower which is flung into a running stream. It usually 
 happens that such a compliant and easy disposition, whicn. 
 resigns itself without murmur to the guidance of others, 
 becomes the darling of those to whose inclinations its own 
 seem to be ofl'ered, in ungrudging and ready sacrifice. 
 
 This was eminently the case with Lucy Ashton. Her 
 politic, wary, and worldly father felt for her an affection the 
 strength of which sometimes surprised him into an unusual 
 emotion. Her elder brother, who trod the path of ambition 
 with a haughtier step than his father, had also more of 
 human affection. A soldier, and in a dissolute age, he pre- 
 ferred his sister Lucy even to pleasure and to military prefer- 
 ment and distinction. Her younger brother, at the age when 
 trifles chiefly occupied his mind, made her the confidant of 
 all his pleasures and anxieties, his success in field-sports, and 
 his quarrels with his tutor and instructors. To these details, 
 however trivial, Lucy lent patient and not indifferent atten- 
 tion. They moved and interested Henry, and that was 
 enough to secure her ear. 
 
 Her mother alone did not feel that distinguished and pre- 
 dominating affection with which the rest of the family 
 cherished Lucy. She regarded what she termed her daugh- 
 ter's want of spirit as a decided mark that the more plebeian 
 blood of her father predominated in Lucy's veins, and used to 
 call her in derision her Lammermoor Shepherdess. To dis- 
 like so gentle and inoffensive a being was impossible ; but 
 Lady Ashton preferred her eldest son, on whom had de- 
 scended a large portion of her own ambitious and undaunted 
 disposition, to a daughter whose softness of temper seemed 
 allied to feebleness of mind. Her eldest son was the more 
 partially beloved by his mother because, contrary to the 
 usual custom of Scottish families of distinction, he had been 
 named after the head of the housa. 
 
28 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 ''My Sliolto," she said, "will support the nntarnished 
 honor of his maternal house, and elevate and support that of 
 his father. Poor Lucy is unfit for courts or crowded halls. 
 Some country luird must be her husband, rich enough to sup- 
 ply her with every comfort, without an effort on her own part, 
 so that she may have nothing to shed a tear for but the 
 tender apprehension lest he may break his neck in a fox-chase. 
 It was not so, however, that our house was raised, nor is it so 
 that it can be fortified and au[^mented. The Lord Keeper's 
 dignity is yet new ; it must be borne as if we were used to its 
 weight, worthy of it, and prompt to assert and maintain it. 
 Before ancient authorities men bend from customary and 
 hereditary deference ; in our presence they will stand erect, 
 unless they are compelled to prostrate themselves. A daugh- 
 ter fit for the sheepfold or the cloister is ill qualified to exact 
 respect where it is yielded with reluctance ; and since Heaven 
 refused us a third boy, Lucy should have held a character fit 
 to supply his place. The hour will be a happy one which dis- 
 poses her hand in marriage to some one whose energy is greater 
 than her own, or whose ambition is of as low an order." 
 
 So meditated a mother to whom the qualities of her chil- 
 dren's hearts, as well as the prospect of their domestic happi- 
 ness, seemed light in comparison to their rank and temporal 
 greatness. But, like many a parent of hot and impatient 
 character, she was mistaken in estimating the feelings of her 
 daughter, who, under a semblance of extreme indifference, 
 nourished the germ of those passions which sometimes spring 
 up in one night, like the gourd of the prophet, and astonish 
 the observer by their unexpected ardor and intensity. In fact, 
 Lucy's sentiments seemed chill because nothing had occurred 
 to interest or awaken them. Her life had hitherto flowed on 
 in a uniform and gentle tenor, and happy for her had not its 
 present smoothness of current resembled that of the stream as 
 it glides downwards to the waterfall ! 
 
 " So, Lucy," said her fiithe-, entering as her song was ended, 
 '' does your musical philosopher teach you to contemn the 
 world before you know it ? That is surely something prema- 
 ture. Or did you but speak according to the fashion of fair 
 maidens, who are always to hold the pleasures of life in con- 
 tempt till they are pressed upon them by the address of some 
 gentle knight ?" 
 
 Lucy blushed, disclaimed any inference respecting her own 
 choice being drawn from her selection of a song, and readily 
 laid aside her instrument at her father's reauest that she 
 would attend him in his wai^- 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR W 
 
 A large and well-wooded park, or rather chase, stretched 
 along the hill behind the castle, which, occupying, as we have 
 noticed, a pass ascending from the ])lain, seemed built in its 
 very gorge to defend the forest ground which arose behind it 
 in shaggy majesty. Into this romantic region the father and 
 daughter proceeded, arm in arm, by a noble avenue overarched 
 by embowering elms, beneath which groups of the fallow-deer 
 were seen to stray in distant j^erspective. As they paced 
 slowly on, admiring the different jDoints of view, for which Sir 
 William Ashton, notwithstanding the nature of his usual 
 avocations, had considerable taste and feeling, they were over- 
 taken by the forester, or park-keeper, who, intent on sylvan 
 sport, was proceeding with his cross-bow over his ai'm, and a 
 hound led in leash by his boy, into the interior of the wood. 
 
 "Going to shoot us a piece of venison, Xorman ?" said 
 his master, as he returned the woodman's salutation. 
 
 "Saul, your honor, and that I am. Will it please you to 
 see the sport ? " 
 
 " no," said his lordship, after looking at his daughter, 
 whose color fled at the idea of seeing the deer shot, although, 
 had her father expressed his wish that they shiDuld accom- 
 pany Norman, it was probable she would not even have hinted 
 her reluctance. 
 
 The forester shrugged his shoulders. " It was a disheart- 
 ening thing," he said, " when none of the gentles came down 
 to see the sport. He hoped Captain Sholto would be soon 
 hame, or he might shut up his shop entirely; for Mr. Harry 
 was kept sae close wi' his Latin nonsense that, though his will 
 was very gude to be in the wood from morning till night, 
 there would be a hopeful lad lost, and no making a man of 
 him. It was not so, he had heard, in Lord Ravenswood's 
 time: when a buck was to be killed, man and mother's son 
 ran to see; and when the deer fell, the knife was always pre- 
 sented to the knight, and he never gave less than a dollar for 
 the compliment. And there was Edgar Ravenswood — Master 
 of Kaveuswood that is now — when he goes up to the wood — 
 there hasna been a better hunter since Tristrem's time — when 
 Sir Edgar bauds out, down goes the deer, faith. But \«e hae 
 lost a' sense of woodcraft on this side of the hill." 
 
 There was much in this harangue highly displeasing to 
 the Lord Keeper's feelings; he could not help observing that 
 his menial despised him almost avowedly for not possessing 
 that taste for sport which in those times was deemed the nat- 
 ural and indispensable attribute of a real gentleman. But 
 the master of the game is, in all country houses, a man of 
 
» WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 great importance, and entitled to use considerable freedom of 
 speech. Sir William, therefore, only smiled and replied, 
 " Ho had something else to think upon to-day than killing 
 deer ; " meantime, taking out his purse, he gave the ranger a 
 dollar for his encouragement. The fellow received it as the 
 waiter of a fashionable hotel receives double his proper fee 
 from the hands of a country gentleman — that is, with a smile, 
 in which pleasure at the gift is mingled with contempt for 
 the ignorance of the donor. "Your honor is the bad pay- 
 master," he said, "who pays before it is done. What would 
 you do were I to miss the buck after you have paid me my 
 wood-fee ? " 
 
 "I suppose," said the Keeper, smiling, "■ you would hardly 
 guess what I mean were I to tell you of a condictio in- 
 dehiti?" 
 
 " JSTot I, on my saul. I guess it is some law phrase ; but 
 Bue a beggar, and — your honor knows what follows. Well, 
 but I will be just with you, and if bow and brach fail not, 
 you shall have a piece of game two fingers fat on the bris- 
 ket." 
 
 As he was about to go off, his master again called him, and 
 asked, as if by accident, whether the Master of Ravenswood 
 was actually so brave a man and so good a shooter as the 
 world spoke him. 
 
 "Brave ! — brave enough, I warrant you," answered Nor- 
 man. " I was in the wood at Tyninghame when there was a 
 sort of gallants hunting with my lord ; on my saul, there was 
 a buck turned to bay made us all stand back — a stout old 
 Trojan of the first head, ten-tined branches, and a brow as 
 broad as e'er a bullock's. Egad, he dashed at the old lord, 
 and tliere would have been inlake among the peerage, if the 
 Master had not whipped roundly in, and hamstrung him Avith 
 his cutlass. He was but sixteen then, bless his heart." 
 
 "And is he as ready with the gun as with the couteau ? " 
 Baid Sir William. 
 
 " He'll strike this silver dollar out from between my fin- 
 ger and thumb at fourscore yards, and I'll hold it out for a 
 gold merk ; what more would ye have of eye, hand, lead, and 
 gunpowder ? " 
 
 " 0, no more to be wished, certainly," said the Lord 
 Keeper ; " but we keep you from your sport, Norman. Good- 
 morrow, good Norman." 
 
 And, humming his rustic roundelay, the yeoman went on 
 his road, the sound of his rough voice gradually dying away 
 as the distance betwixt them increased : 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR 31 
 
 '♦ The monk must arise when the matins ring, 
 The abbot may sleep to their chime ; 
 But the yeoman must start when the bugles sing, 
 'Tis time, my hearts, 'tis time. 
 
 " There's bucks and raes on Bilhope braes. 
 There's a herd on Shortwood Shaw ; 
 But a Hly-white doe in the garden goes, 
 She's fairly worth them a'." 
 
 " Has this fellow," said the Lord Keeper, when the yeo- 
 man's song had died on the wind, "ever served the Ravens- 
 wood people, that he seems so much interested in them ? I 
 suppose you know, Lucy, for you make it a point of con- 
 science to record the special history of every boor about the 
 castle. "' 
 
 '' I am not quite so faithful a chronicler, my dear father • 
 but I believe that Norman once served here while a boy, and 
 before he went to Ledington, whence you hired him. But if 
 you want to know anything of the former family. Old Alice is 
 the best authority." 
 
 '' And what should I have to do with them, pray, Lucy,^ 
 said her father, "or with their history or accomplishments ?^' 
 
 " Nay, I do not know, sir ; only that you were asking 
 questions of Norman about young Kavenswood." 
 
 "Pshaw, child !" replied her father, yet immediatel} 
 added, " And who is Old Alice ? I think you know all th« 
 old women in the country." 
 
 " To be sure I do, or how could I help the old creaturea 
 when they are in hard times ? And as to Old Alice, she is tha 
 very empress of old women and queen of gossips, so far a^ 
 legendary lore is concerned. She is blind, poor old soul, but 
 when she speaks to you, you would think she has some way of 
 looking into your very heart. I am sure I often cover my 
 face, or turn it away, for it seems as if she saw one change 
 color, though she has been blind these twenty years. She is 
 worth visiting, were it but to say you have seen a blind and 
 paralytic old woman have so much acuteness of perception 
 and dignity of manners. I assure you, she might be a 
 countess from her language and behavior. Come, von must 
 go to see Alice ; we are not a quarter of a mile from her 
 cottage." 
 
 ''All this, my dear," said the Lord Keeper, "is no an- 
 swer to my question, who this woman is, and what is her 
 connection with the former proprietor's family ? " 
 
32 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 " 0, it was something of a iiouriceship, I believe ; and 
 she remained here, because her two grandsons were engaged 
 in your service. But it was against her will, I fancy ; for 
 the poor old creature is always regretting the change of times 
 and of property." 
 
 " I am much obliged to her," answered the Lord Keeper. 
 *' She and her folk eat my bread and drink my cup, and are 
 lamenting all the while tliat they are not still under a family 
 which never could do good, either to themselves or any one 
 else ! " 
 
 *' Indeed," replied Lucy, " I am certain you do Old Alice 
 injustice. She has nothing mercenary about her, and would 
 not accept a penny in charity, if it were to save her from be- 
 ing starved. She is only talkative, like all old folk when you 
 put them upon stories of their youth ; and she speaks about 
 the Kavenswood people, because she lived under them so 
 many years. But I am sure she is grateful to you, sir, for 
 your protection, and that she would rather speak to you than 
 to any other person in the whole world beside. Do, sir, 
 come and see Old Alice." 
 
 And with the freedom of an indulged daughter she 
 dragged the Lord Keeper in the direction she desired. 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 Through tops of the high trees she did descry 
 A little smoke, whose vapor, thin and light, 
 Reeking aloft, uproUed to the sky. 
 Which cheerful sign did send unto her sight. 
 That in the same did wonne some living wight. 
 
 Spenser. 
 
 Lucy acted as her father^s guide, for he was too much en- 
 grossed with his political labors, or with society, to be 
 perfectly acquainted with his own extensive domains, and,more- 
 over, was generally an inhabitant of the city of Edinburgh ; 
 and she, on the other hand, liad, with her mother, resided 
 the whole summer in Raveuswood, and, partly from taste, 
 partly from want of any other amusement, liad, by her fre- 
 (juent rambles, learned to know each lane, alley, dingle, oi- 
 bushy dell. 
 
 And every bosky bourne from side to side. 
 
 We have said that the Lord Keeper was not indifferent to 
 the beauties of nature ; and we add, in justice to him, that 
 he felt them doubly when j)ointed out by the beautiful, sim- 
 ple, and interesting girl who, hanging on his arm with filial 
 kindness, now called him to admire the size of some ancient 
 oak, and now the unexpected turn where the path, developing 
 its maze from glen or dingle, suddenly reached an eminence 
 commanding an extensive view of the plains beneath them, 
 and then gradually glided away from the prospect to lose itself 
 among rocks and thickets, and guide to scenes of deeper 
 seclusion. 
 
 It was when pausing on one of those points of extensive 
 and commanding view that Lucy told her father they were 
 close by the cottage of her hlhvl jrroie gee ; and on turning 
 from the little hill, a path which led around it, worn by the 
 daily steps of the infirm inmate, brought them in sight of the 
 hut, which, embosomed in a deep and" obscure dell, seemed to 
 have been so situated purposelv to bear a correspondence with 
 the darkened state of its inhabitant. 
 
 The cottage was situated immediately under a tall rock, 
 
34 WAVEBLEY NOVELS 
 
 which in some measure beetled over it, as if threatening to 
 drop some detached fragment from its brow on the frail tene- 
 ment beneath. The hut itself was constructed of turf and 
 stones, and rudely roofed over with thatch, much of which 
 was in a dilapidated condition. The thin blue smoke rose 
 from it in a light column, and curled upward along the white 
 face of the incumbent rock, giving the scene a tint of ex= 
 quisite softness. In a small and rude garden, surrounded by 
 straggling elder-bushes, which formed a sort of imperfect 
 hedge, sat near to the bee-hives, by the produce of which she 
 lived, that " woman old " whom Lucy had brought her father 
 hither to visit. 
 
 Whatever there had been which was disastrous in her for- 
 tune, whatever there was miserable in her dwelling, it was 
 easy to judge by the first glance that neither years, poverty, 
 misfortune, nor infirmity had broken the spirit of this re- 
 markable woman. 
 
 She occupied a turf seat, placed under a weeping birch of 
 unusual magnitude and age, as Judah is represented sitting 
 under her palm-tree, with an air at once of majesty and of 
 dejection. Her figure was tall, commanding, and but little 
 bent by the infirmities of old age. Her dress, though that 
 of a peasant, was uncommonly clean, forming in that par- 
 ticular a strong contrast to most of her rank, and was dis- 
 posed with an attention to neatness, and even to taste, equally 
 unusual. But it was her expression of countenance which 
 chiefly struck the spectator, and induced most persons to 
 address her with a degree of deference and civility very in- 
 consistent with the miserable state of her dwelling, and 
 which, nevertheless, she received with that easy composure 
 which showed she felt it to be her due. She had once been 
 beautiful, but her beauty had been of a bold and masculine 
 cast, such as does not survive the bloom of youth ; yet hex- 
 features continued to express strong sense, deep reflection, 
 and a character of sober pride, which, as we have already 
 said of her dress, appeared to argue a conscious superiority 
 to those of her own rank. It scarce seemed possible that a 
 face, deprived of the advantage of sight, could have ex- 
 pressed character so strongly ; but her eyes, which were al- 
 most totally closed, did not, by the display of their sightless 
 orbs, mar the countenance to which they could add nothing. 
 She seemed in a ruminating posture, soothed, perhaps, by 
 the murmurs of the busy tribe around her to abstraction, 
 though not to slumber. 
 
 Lucy undid the latch of the little garden gate^ and 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR 3a 
 
 solicited the old woman's attention. " My father, Alice, is 
 come to see you." 
 
 " He is welcome. Miss Ashton, and so are you," said the 
 old woman, turning and inclining her head towards her 
 visitors. 
 
 " This is a fine morning for your bee-hives, mother," said 
 the Lord Keeper, who, struck with the outward appearance of 
 Alice, was somewhat curious to know if her conversation 
 would correspond with it. 
 
 "1 believe so, my lord," she replied; "I feel the air 
 breathe milder than of late." 
 
 " You do not," resumed the statesman, "take charge of 
 these bees yourself, mother ? How do you manage them ?" 
 
 '' By delegates, as kings do their subjects," resumed Alice ; 
 ^' and I am fortunate in a prime minister. Here, Babie." 
 
 She whistled on a small silver call which hung around her 
 neck, and which at that time was sometimes used to summon 
 domestics, and Babie, a girl of fifteen, made her appearance 
 from the hut, not altogether so cleanly arrayed as she would 
 probably have been had Alice had the use of her eyes, but 
 W^ith a greater air of neatness than was upon the whole to 
 have been expected. 
 
 " Babie," said her mistress, '• offer some bread and honey 
 to the Lord Keeper and Miss Ashton ; they will excuse your 
 awkwardness if you use cleanliness and dispatch." 
 
 Babie performed her mistress's command Mith the grace 
 which was naturally to have been expected, moving to and 
 fro with a lobster-like gesture, her feet and legs tending one 
 way, while her head, turned in a different direction, was fixed 
 in wonder upon the laird, who was more frequently heard of 
 than seen by his tenants and dependants. The bread and 
 honey, however, deposited on a plantain-leaf, was offered and 
 accepted in all due courtesy. The Lord Keeper, still retain- 
 ing the place which he had occupied on the decayed trunk of 
 a fallen tree, looked as if he wished to prolong the interview, 
 but was at a loss how to introduce a suitable subject. 
 
 ''You have been long a resident on this property ?" he 
 said, after a pause. 
 
 "■ It is now nearly sixty years since I first knew Ravens- 
 wood," answered the old dame, whose conversation, though 
 perfectly civil and respectful, seemed cautiously limited to the 
 unavoidable and necessary task of replying to Sir William. 
 
 " You are not, I should judge by your accent, of this coun- 
 try originally ? " said the Lord Keeper, in continuation. 
 
 " No ; I am by birth an Englishwoman." 
 
86 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 " Yet you seem attached to this country as if it were your 
 own. " 
 
 ''It is here," replied the bhnd woman, "that I have drank 
 the cup of joy and of sorrow which Heaven destined for me. I 
 was liere the wife of an upright and affectionate husband for 
 more than twenty years ; I was here the mother of six prom- 
 ising children ; it was here that God deprived me of all 
 these blessings ; it was here they died, and yonder, by yon 
 ruined chapel, they lie all buried. I had no country but theirs 
 while they lived ; I have none but theirs now they are no 
 more." 
 
 " Bat your house," said the Lord Keeper, looking at it, 
 "is miserably ruinous?" 
 
 "Do, my dear father," said Lucy, eagerly, yet bashfully, 
 catching at the hint, " give orders to make it better; that is, 
 if you think it proper. " 
 
 " It will last my time, my dear Miss Lucy," said the blind 
 woman; "I would not have my lord give himself the least 
 trouble about it." 
 
 " But," said Lucy, "you once had a much better house, 
 and were rich, and now in your old age to live in this hovel ! " 
 
 " It is as good as I deserve, Miss Lucy ; if my heart has not 
 broke with what I have suffered, and seen others suffer, it 
 must have been strong enough, and the rest of this old frame 
 has no right to call itself weaker." 
 
 "You have probably witnessed many changes," said the 
 Lord Keeper; "but your experience must have taught you to 
 expect them." 
 
 "It has taught me to endure them, my lord," was the 
 reply. 
 
 "Yet you knew that they must needs arrive in the course 
 of years ? " said the statesman. 
 
 "Ay ; as I knew that the stump, on or beside which you 
 sit, once a tall and lofty tree, must needs one day fall byde^ 
 cay, or by the axe ; yet I hoped my eyes might not witness the 
 downfall of the tree which overshadowed my dwelling." 
 
 " Do not suppose," said the Lord Keeper, " that you will 
 lose any interest with me for looking back with regret to the 
 days when another family possessed my estates. You had 
 reason, doubtless, to love them, and I respect your gratitude. 
 I will order some repairs in your cottage, and I hope we 
 shall live to be friends when we know each other better." 
 
 " Those of my age," returned the dame, " make no new 
 friends. I thank you for your bounty, it is well intended un- 
 doubtedly ; but I have all I want, and I cannot accept more 
 a.t your lordship's hands." 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAM3IERM00R 87 
 
 "Well, then," continued the Lord Keeper, "at least 
 allow me to say, that 1 look upon you as a woman of sense 
 and education beyond your appearance, and that I hope you 
 will continue to reside on this pro^ierty of mine rent-free for 
 your life." 
 
 " I hope I shall," said the old dame, composedly ; "I be- 
 lieve that was made an article in the sale of Ravenswood to 
 your lordship, though such a trifling circumstance may have 
 escaped your recollection." 
 
 "I remember — I recollect," said his lordship, somewhat 
 confused. "I perceive you are too much attached to your 
 old friends to accept any benefit from their successor." 
 
 "Far from it, my lord; lam grateful for the benefits 
 which I decline, and I wish I could pay you for offering 
 them, better than what I am now about to say." The Lord 
 Keeper looked at her in some surprise, but said not a word. 
 " My lord," she continued, in an impressive and solemn 
 tone, " take care what you do ; you are on the brink of a preci- 
 pice. " 
 
 '•Indeed ?" said the Lord Keeper, his mind reverting to 
 the political circumstances of the country. " Has anything 
 come to your knowledge — any plot or conspiracy ? " 
 
 "No, my lord ; those who traffic in such commodities do 
 not call into their councils the old, blind, and infirm. My 
 warning is of another kind. You have driven matters hard 
 with the house of Ravenswood. Believe a true tale : they are 
 a fierce house, and there is danger in dealing with men when 
 they become desperate." 
 
 " Tush," answered the Keeper ; "what has been between 
 us has been the work of the law, not my doing ;_^ and to the 
 law they must look, if they would impugn my proceedings." 
 
 " Ay, but they may think otherwise, and take the law 
 into their own hand, when they fail of other means of re- 
 dress." 
 
 "What mean you ?" said the Lord Keeper. "Young 
 Ravenswood would not have recourse to personal violence ? 
 
 " God forbid I should say so! I know nothing of the 
 youth but what is honorable and open. Honorable and open, 
 said I ? I should have added, free, generous, noble. But he 
 is still a Ravenswood, and may bide his time. Remember the 
 fate of Sir George Lockhart." * 
 
 The Lord Keeper started as she called to his recollection 
 a tragedy so deep and so recent. The old woman proceeded f 
 " Ohiesley, who did the deed, was a relative of Lord Ra* 
 
 * See Note 2. 
 
88 WAVEliLEY NOVELS 
 
 venswood. In the hall of Ravenswood, in my presence and 
 in that of others, he avowed publicly his determination to do 
 the cruelty which he afterwards committed. I could not 
 keep silence, though to speak it ill became my station. ' You 
 are devising a dreadful crime,' I said, ' for which you must 
 reckon before the judgment seat.' Never shall I forget his 
 look, as he replied, ' I must reckon then for many things, 
 and will reckon for this also.' Therefore I may well say, 
 beware of pressing a desperate man with the hand of author- 
 ity. There is blood of Chiesley in the veins of Ravenswood, 
 and one drop of it were enough to fire him in the circum- 
 stances in which he is placed. I say. beware of him." 
 
 The old dame had, either intentionally or by accident, 
 harped aright the fear of the Lord Keeper. The desperate 
 and dark resource of private assassination, so familiar to a 
 Scottish baron in former times, had even in the present age 
 been too frequently resorted to under the pressure of unusual 
 temptation, or where the mind of the actor was prepared for 
 such a crime. Sir William Ashton was aware of this ; as also 
 that young Ravenswood had received injuries sufficient to 
 prompt him to that sort of revenge, which becomes a fre- 
 quent though fearful consequence of the partial administra- 
 tion of justice. He endeavored to disguise from Alice the 
 nature of the apprehensions which he entertained ; but so 
 ineffectually, that a person even of less penetration than 
 nature had endowed her with must necessarily have been 
 aware that the subject lay near his bosom. His voice was 
 changed in its accent as he replied to her, "That the Master 
 of Ravenswood was a man of honor ; and, were it otherwise, 
 that the fate of Chiesley of Dairy was a sufficient warning to 
 any one who should dare to assume the office of avenger of 
 his own imaginary wrongs." And having hastily uttered 
 these expressions, he rose and left the place without waiting 
 for a rex)ly. 
 
CHAPTEE V 
 
 Is she a Capulet ? 
 O dear account ! my life is my foe's debt. 
 
 Shakespeare. 
 
 The Lord Keeper walked for nearly a quarter of a mile in 
 profound silence. His daughter, naturally timid, and bred 
 up in those ideas of filial awe and implicit obedience which 
 were inculcated upon the youth of that period^, did not ven- 
 ture to interrupt liis meditations. 
 
 *' Why do you look so pale, Lucy ? " said her father, turn- 
 ing suddenly round and breaking silence. 
 
 According to the ideas of the time, which did not permit 
 a young woman to offer her sentiments on any subject of im- 
 portance unless especially required to do so, Lucy was bound 
 to appear ignorant of the meaning of all that had passed .be- 
 twixt Alice and her father, and imputed the emotion he had 
 observed to the fear of the wild cattle which grazed in that 
 part of the extensive chase through which they were now 
 walking. 
 
 Of these animals, the descendants of the savage herds 
 which anciently roamed free in the Caledonian forests, it was 
 formerly a point of state to preserve a few in the parks of the 
 Scottish nobility. Specimens continued within the memory 
 of man to be kept at least at three houses of distinction — 
 Hamilton, namely, Drumlanrig, and Cumbernauld. They 
 had degenerated from the ancient race in size and strength, 
 if we are to judge from the accounts of old chronicles, and 
 from the formidable remains frequently discovered in bogs 
 and morasses when drained and laid open. The bull had 
 lost the shaggy honors of his mane, and the race was small 
 and light made, in color a dingy white, or rather a pale yel- 
 low, with black horns and hoofs. They retained, however, 
 in some measure, the ferocity of their ancestry, could not be 
 domesticated on account of their antipathy to the human 
 race, and were often dangerous if approached unguardedly, or 
 wantonly disturbed. It was this last reason which has oc- 
 casioned their being extirpated at the places we have men- 
 tioned, where probably they would otherwise have been 
 
40 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 retained as appropriate inhabitants of a Scottish woodland, 
 and fit tenants for a baronial forest. A few, if I mistake 
 not, are still preserved at Chillingham Castle, in Northum- 
 berland, the seat of the Earl of Tankerville.* 
 
 It was to her finding herself in the vicinity of a group of 
 three or four of these animals, that Lucy thought proper to 
 impute those signs of fear which had arisen in her counte- 
 nance for a diiferent reason. For she had been familiarized 
 with the appearance of the wild cattle during her walks in 
 the chase ; and it was not then, as it may be now, a neces- 
 sary part of a young lady's demeanor, to indulge in causeless 
 tremors of the nerves. On the present occasion, however, 
 she speedily found cause for real terror, 
 
 Lucy had scarcely replied to her father in the words we 
 have mentioned, and he was just about to rebuke her sup- 
 posed timidity, when a bull, stimulated either by the scarlet 
 color of Miss Ashton's mantle, or by one of those fits of 
 capricious ferocity to which their dispositions are liable, 
 detached himself suddenly from the group which w^as feeding 
 at the upper extremity of a grassy glade, that seemed to lose 
 itself among the crossing and entangled boughs. The animal 
 approached the intruders on his pasture ground, at first 
 slowly, pawing the ground with his hoof, bellowing from 
 time to time, and tearing up the sand with his horns, as if 
 to lash himself up to rage and violence. 
 
 The Lord Keeper, who observed the animal's demeanor, 
 was aware that he was about to become mischievous, and, 
 drawing his daughter's arm under his own, began to walk 
 fast along the avenue, in hopes to get out of his sight and his 
 reach. This was the most injudicious course he could 
 have adopted, for, encouraged by the appearance of flight, 
 the bull began to pursue them at full speed. Assailed by a 
 danger so imminent, firmer courage than that of the Lord 
 Keeper might have given way. But paternal tenderness, 
 "love strong as death," sustained him. He continued to 
 support and drag onward his daughter, until her fears alto- 
 gether depriving her of the power of flight, she sank down 
 by his side ; and when he could no longer assist her to escape, 
 he turned round and placed himself betwixt her and the rag- 
 ing animal, which, advancing in fnll career, its brutal fury 
 enhanced by the rapidity of the pursuit, was now within a few 
 yards of them. The Lord Keeper had no weapons ; his age 
 and gravity dispensed even with the usual appendage of a 
 walking sword— could such appendage have availed him any- 
 thim?. 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOB 41 
 
 It seemed inevitable, that the father or daughter, or both, 
 should have falleu victims to the impending danger, when a 
 shot from the neighboring thicket arrested the progress of 
 the animal. He was so truly struck between the junction of 
 the spine with the skull, that the wound, whicli in any other 
 part of his body might scarce have impeded his career, proved 
 instantly fatal. Stumbling forward with a hideous bellow, 
 the progressive force of his previous motion, rather than any 
 operation of his limbs, carried him up to within three yards 
 of the astonished Lord Keeper, where he rolled on the ground, 
 his limbs darkened with the black death-sweat, and quivering 
 with the last convulsions of muscular motion. 
 
 Lucy lay senseless on the ground, insensible of the won- 
 derful deliverance which she had experienced. Her father 
 was almost equally stupefied, so rapid and unexpected had 
 been the transition from the horrid death which seemed 
 inevitable to perfect security. He gazed on the animal, terri- 
 ble even in death, with a species of mute and confused aston- 
 ishment, which did not permit him distinctly to understand 
 what had taken place ; and so inaccurate was his conscious- 
 ness of what liad passed, that he might have supposed the bull 
 had been arrested in its career by a thunderbolt, had he no<i 
 observed among the branches of the thicket the figure of a 
 man, with a short gun or musquetoon in his hand. 
 
 This instantly recalled him to a sense of their situation : a 
 glance at his daughter reminded him of the necessity of pro- 
 curing her assistance. He called to the man, whom he con- 
 cluded to be one of his foresters, to give immediate attention 
 to Miss Ashk)n, while he himself hastened to call assistance. 
 The huntsman approached them accordingly, and the Lord 
 Keeper saw he was a stranger, but was too much agitated to 
 make any farther remarks. In a few hurried words he directed 
 the shooter, as stronger and more active than himself, to 
 carry the young lady to a neighboring fountain, while he went 
 back to Alice's hut to procure more aid. 
 
 The man to whose timely interference they had been so 
 much indebted did not seem inclined to leave his good work 
 half finished. He raised Lucy from the ground in his arms, 
 and conveying her through the glades of the forest by paths 
 with which he seemed well acquainted, stopped not until he 
 laid her in safety by the side of a plentiful and pellucid foun- 
 tain, which had been once covered in, screened and decorated 
 with architectural ornaments of a Gothic character. But now 
 the vault which had covered it being broken down and riven, 
 and the Gothic font ruined and demolished, the stream buret 
 
42 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 forth from the recess of the earth in open day, and winded its 
 way among the broken sculpture and moss-grown stones 
 which lay in confusion around its source. 
 
 Tradition, always busy, at least in Scotland, to grace with 
 a legendary tale a spot in itself interesting, had ascribed a 
 cause of peculiar veneration to this fountain. A beautiful 
 young lady met one of the Lords of Raveuswood while hunt- 
 ing near this spot, and, like a second Egeria, had captivated 
 the affections of the feudal Numa. They met frequently af- 
 terwards, and always at sunset, the charms of the nymph's 
 mind completing the conquest which her beauty had begun, 
 and the mystery of the intrigue adding zest to both. She 
 always appeared and disappeared close by the fountain, with 
 which, therefore, her lover judged she had some inexplicable 
 connection. She placed certain restrictions on their inter- 
 course, which also savored of mystery. They met only once 
 a week — Friday was the appointed day — and she explained to 
 the Lord of Ravenswood that they were under the necessity 
 of separating as soon as the bell of a chapel belonging to a her- 
 mitage in the adjoining wood, now long ruinous, should toll 
 the hour of vespers. In the course of his confession, the Baron 
 of Ravenswood intrusted the hermit with the secret of this 
 singular amour, and Father Zachary drew the necessary and 
 obvious consequence that his patron was enveloped in the toils 
 of Satan, and in danger of destruction, both to body and soul. 
 He urged these perils to the Baron with all the force of monk- 
 ish rhetoric, and described, in the most frightful colors, the 
 real character and person of the apparently lovely Naiad, whom 
 he hesitated not to denounce as a limb of the kingdom of 
 darkness. The lover listened with obstinate incredulity ; 
 audit was not until worn out by the obstinacy of the anchoret 
 that he consented to put the state and condition of his mis- 
 tress to a certain trial, and for that purpose acquiesced in 
 Zachary's proposal that on their next interview the vespers 
 bell should be rung half an hour later than usual. The her- 
 mit maintained and bucklered his opinion, by quotations from 
 Malleus Malificarum, Sprengerus, Remigius, and other learned 
 demonologists, that the Evil One, thus seduced to remain be- 
 hind the appointed hour, would assume her true shape, and, 
 having appeared to her terrified lover as a fiend of hell, would 
 vanish from him in a flash of sulphurous lightning. Ray- 
 mond of Ravenswood acquiesced in the experiment, not 
 incurious concerning the issue, though confident it would dis- 
 appoint the expectations of the hermit. 
 
 At the appointed hour the lovers met, and their interview 
 
Lucy Ashton at the Fountain. 
 
TEE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR 43 
 
 was protracted beyond that at which they usually parted, by 
 the delay of the priest to ring his usual curfew. No change 
 took place upon the nymph's outward form ; but as soon as 
 the lengthening shadows made her aware that the usual hour 
 of the vespers chime was passed, siie tore herself from her 
 lover's arms with a shriek of despair, bid him adieu forever, 
 and, plunging into the fountain, disappeared from his eyes. 
 The bubbles occasioned by her descent were crimsoned with 
 blood as they arose, leading the distracted Baron to infer that 
 his ill-judged curiosity had occasioned the death of this inter- 
 esting and mysterious being. The remorse which he felt, as 
 well as the recollection of her charms, proved the penance of 
 his future life, which he lost in the battle of Flodden not 
 many months after. But, in memory of his Naiad, he had 
 previously ornamented the fountain in which she appeared 
 to reside, and secured its waters from profanation or pollu- 
 tion by the small vaulted building of which the fragments 
 still remained scattered around it. From this period the 
 house of Ravenswood was supposed to have dated its decay. 
 
 Such was the generally-received legend, which some, who 
 would seem wiser than the vulgar, explained as obscurely inti- 
 mating the fate of a beautiful maid of plebeian rank, the 
 mistress of this Eaymond, whom he slew in a fit of jealousy, 
 and whose blood was mingled with the waters of the locked 
 fountain, as it was commonly called. Others imagined that 
 the tale had a more remote origin in the ancient heathen 
 mythology. All, however, agreed that the spot was fatal to 
 the Ravenswood family ; and that to drink of the waters of 
 the well, or even approach its brink, was as ominous to a 
 descendant of that house as for a Grahame to wear green, a 
 Bruce to kill a spider, or a St. Clair to cross the Ord on a 
 Monday. 
 
 It was on this ominous spot that Lucy Ashton first drew 
 breath after her long and almost deadly swoon. Beautiful 
 and pale as the fabulous Naiad in the last agony of separation 
 from her lover, she was seated so as to rest with her back 
 against a part of the ruined wall, while her mantle, dripping 
 with the water which her protector had used profusely to re- 
 call her senses, clung to her slender and beautifully propor- 
 tioned form. 
 
 The first moment of recollection brought to her mind the 
 danger which had overpowered her senses ; the next called to 
 remembrance that of her father. She looked around ; he was 
 nowhere to be seen. " My father, my father ! " was all that she 
 could ejaculate. 
 
14 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 " Sir William is safe," answered the voice of a stranger— 
 "perfectly safe, and will be with you instantly." 
 
 " Are you sure of that ?" exclaimed Lucy. ''The bull 
 was close by us. Do not stop me : I must go to seek my 
 father ! " 
 
 And she arose with that purpose ; but her strength was 
 so much exhausted that, far from possessing the power to 
 execute her purpose, she must have fallen against the stone 
 on which she had leaned, probably not without sustaining 
 serious injury. 
 
 The stranger was so near to her that, without actually 
 suffering her to fall, he could not avoid catching her in his 
 arms, which, however, he did with a momentary reluctance, 
 very unusual when youth interposes to prevent beauty from 
 danger. It seemed as if her weight, slight as it was, proved 
 too heavy for her young and athletic assistant, for, without 
 feeling the temptation of detaining her in his arms even for 
 a single instant, he again placed her on the stone from which 
 she had risen, and retreating a few steps, repeated hastily, 
 " Sir William Ashton is perfectly safe, and will be here in- 
 stantly. Do not make yourself anxious on his account : 
 Fate has singularly preserved him. You, madam, are ex- 
 hausted, and must not think of rising until you have some 
 assistance more suitable than mine." 
 
 Lucy, whose senses were by this time more effectually 
 collected, was naturally led to look at the stranger with at- 
 tention. There was nothing in his appearance which should 
 have rendered him unwilling to offer his arm to a young 
 lady who required support, or which could have induced her 
 to refuse his assistance ; and she could not help thinking, 
 even in that moment, that he seemed cold and reluctant to 
 offer it. A shooting-dress of dark cloth intimated the rank 
 of the wearer, though concealed in part by a large and loose 
 cloak of a dark brown color. A montero cap and a black 
 feather drooped over the wearer's brow, and partly concealed 
 his features, which, so far as seen, were dark, regular, and 
 full of majestic, though somewhat sullen, expression. Some 
 secret sorrow, or the brooding spirit of some moody passion, 
 had quenched the light and ingenuous vivacity of youth in a 
 countenance singularly fitted to display both, and it was not 
 easy to gaze on the stranger without a secret impression 
 either of pity or awe, or at least of doubt and curiosity allied 
 to both. 
 
 The impression which we have necessarily been long in 
 describing, Lucy felt in the glance of a moment, and had no 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR 45 
 
 sooner encountered the keen black eyes of the stranger than 
 her own were bent on the ground witli a mixture of bashful 
 embarrassment and fear. Yet there was a necessity to speak, 
 or at least she thought so, and in a fluttered accent she began 
 to mention her wonderful escape, in which she was sure that 
 the stranger must, under Heaven, have been her father's pro- 
 tector and her own. 
 
 He seemed to shrink from her expressions of gratitude, 
 while he replied abruptly, " I leave you, madam," the deep 
 melody of his voice rendered powerful, but not harsh, by 
 something like a severity of tone — " I leave you to the pro- 
 tection of those to Vt-honi it is possible you may have this day 
 been a guardian angel." 
 
 Lucy was surprised at the ambiguity of his language, 
 and, with a feeling of artless and unaffected gratitude, began 
 to deprecate the idea of having intended to give her deliverer 
 any oUence, as if such a thing had been possible. " I have 
 been unfortunate," she said, "in endeavoring to express my 
 thanks — I am sure it must be so, though I cannot recollect 
 what I said ; but would you but stay till my father — till the 
 Lord Keeper comes ; would you only permit him to pay you 
 his thanks, and to inquire your name ? " 
 
 " My name is unnecessary," answered the stranger ; 
 ''your father — I would rather say Sir William Ashton — will 
 learn it soon enough, for all the pleasure it is likely to afl'ord 
 him." 
 
 " You mistake him," said Lucy, earnestly ; "he will be 
 grateful for my sake and for his own. You do not know my 
 father, or you are deceiving me with a story of his safety, 
 when he has already fallen a victim to the fury of that 
 animal." 
 
 When she had caught this idea, she started from the 
 ground and endeavored to press towards the avenue in which 
 the accident had taken place, while the stranger, though he 
 seeuied to hesitate between the desire to assist and the wish 
 to leave her, was obliged, in common humanity, to oppose 
 her both by entreaty and action. 
 
 " On the word of a gentleman, madam, I tell you the 
 truth ; your father is in perfect safety ; you will expose your- 
 self to injury if you venture back where the herd of wild cat- 
 tle grazed. If you will go" — for, having once adopted the 
 idea that her father was still in danger, she pressed forward 
 in spite of him — "' if you will go, accept my arm, though I 
 am not perhaps the person who can with most propriety offer 
 you support." 
 
46 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 But, without lieeding this intimation, Lucy took him at 
 his word. "0, if you be u man," she said — "if you be a 
 gentleman, assist me to find my father ! You shall not leave 
 me — you must go with me ; he is dying perhaps while we are 
 talking here ! " 
 
 Then, without listening to excuse or apology, and holding 
 fast by the stranger's arm, though unconscious of anything 
 save the support which it gave, and without which she could 
 not have moved, mixed with a vague feeling of preventing his 
 escape from her, she was urging, and almost dragging, him 
 forward when Sir William Ashton came up, followed by the 
 female attendant of blind Alice, and by two wood-cutters, 
 whom he had summoned from their occupation to his assist- 
 ance. His joy at seeing his daughter safe overcame the sur- 
 prise with which he would at another time have beheld her 
 hanging as familiarly on the arm of a stranger as she might 
 have done upon his own. 
 
 "Lucy, my dear Lucy, are you safe? — are you well?" 
 were the only words that broke from him as he embraced her 
 in ecstasy. 
 
 "I am well, sir, thank God ! and still more that I see you 
 so ; but this gentleman," she said, quitting his arm and shrink- 
 ing from him, "what must he think of me ? " and her eloquent 
 blood, flushing over neck and brow, spoke how much she was 
 ashamed of the freedom with which she had craved, and even 
 compelled, his assistance. 
 
 " This gentleman," said Sir William Ashton, " will, I trust, 
 not regret the trouble we have given him, when I assure him 
 of the gratitude of the Lord Keeper for the greatest service 
 which one man ever rendered to another — for the life of my 
 child — for my own life, which he has saved by his bravery 
 and presence of mind. He will, I am sure, permit us to re- 
 quest " 
 
 "Request nothing of me, my lord," said the stranger, in 
 a stern and peremptory tone ; "I am the Master of Ravens- 
 wood." 
 
 There was a dead pause of surprise, not unmixed with less 
 pleasant feelings. The Master wrapped himself in his cloak, 
 made a haughty inclination towards Lucy, muttering a few 
 words of courtesy, as indistinctly heard as they seemed to be 
 reluctantly uttered, and, turning from them, was immediately 
 lost in the thicket. 
 
 " The Master of Ravenswood ! " said the Lord Keeper, 
 when he had recovered his momentary astonishment. "' Has- 
 ten after him — stop him — beg him to speak to me for a sin- 
 gle moment." 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR 47 
 
 The two foresters accordingly set off in pursuit of the 
 stranger. They speedily reappeared, and, in an embarrassed 
 and awkward manner, said the gentleman would not return. 
 
 The Lord Keeper took one of the fellows aside, and 
 questioned him more closely what the Master of Eavenswood 
 had said. 
 
 "He just said he wadna come back," said the man, with 
 the caution of a prudent Scotchman, who cared not to be the 
 bearer of an unpleasant errand. 
 
 " He said something more, sir," said the Lord Keeper, 
 " and I insist on knowing what it was." 
 
 "' Why, then, my lord," said the man, looking down, "he 
 
 said But it wad be nae pleasure to your lordship to hear 
 
 it, for I dare say the Master meant nae ill." 
 
 " That's none of your concern, sir ; I desire to hear the 
 very words." 
 
 " Weel, then," replied the man, "he said, 'Tell Sir 
 William Ashton that the next time he and I forgather, he 
 will not be half sae blithe of our meeting as of our part- 
 ing.'" 
 
 "Very well, sir," said the Lord Keeper, "I believe he 
 alludes to a wager we have on our hawks ; it is a matter of 
 no consequence." 
 
 He turned to his daughter, who was by this time so much 
 recovered as to be able to walk home. But the effect, which 
 the various recollections connected with a scene so terrific 
 made upon a mind which was susceptible in an extreme degree, 
 was more permanent than the injury which her nerves had 
 sustained. Visions of terror, both in sleep and in waking 
 reveries, recalled to her the form of the furious animal, and 
 the dreadful bellow with which he accompanied his career ; 
 and it was always the image of the Master of Eavenswood, 
 with his native nobleness of countenance and form, that 
 seemed to interpose betwixt her and assured death. It is, 
 perhaps, at all times dangerous for a young person to suffer 
 recollection to dwell repeatedly, and with too much com- 
 placency, on the same individual ; but in Lucy's situation it 
 was almost unavoidable. She had never happened to see a 
 young man of mien and features so romantic and so striking 
 as young Eavenswood ; but had she seen a hundred his 
 equals or liis superiors in those particulars, no one else could 
 have been linked to her heart by the strong associations of 
 :jemembered danger and escape, of gratitude, wonder, and 
 curiosity. I say curiosity, for it is likely that the singularly 
 restrained and unaccommodating manners of the Master of 
 
48 WAVE RLE Y NOVELS 
 
 Raveiiswood, so much at variance with the natural expres- 
 sion of his features and grace of his deportment, as they ex- 
 cited wonder by the contrast, had their etfect in riveting her 
 attention to the recollection. She knew little of Ravenswood, 
 or the disputes which had existed betwixt her father and his, 
 aad parhaps could in her gentleness of mind hardly have 
 comprehended the angry and bitter passions which they had 
 engendei'ed. Bat she knew that he was come of noble stem ; 
 was poor, though descended from the noble and the wealthy ; 
 and she felt that she could sympathize with the feelings of a 
 proud mind, which urged him to recoil from the proffered 
 gratitude of tlie new proprietors of his father's house and 
 domains. Would he have equally shunned their acknowledg- 
 ments and avoided their intimacy, had her father's request 
 been urged more mildly, less abruptly, and softened with the 
 grace which women so well know how to throw into their 
 manner, when they mean to mediate betwixt the headlong 
 passions of the ruder sex ? This was a perilous question to 
 ask her own mind — perilous both in the idea and in its conse- 
 quences. 
 
 Lucy Ashton, in short, was involved in those mazes of the 
 imagination which are most dangerous to the young and the 
 sensitive. Time, it is true, absence, change of scene and new 
 faces, might probably have destroyed the illusion in her in- 
 stance, as it has done in many others ; but her residence 
 remained solitary, and her mind without those means of dissi- 
 pating her pleasing visions. This solitude was chiefly owing 
 to the absence of Lady Ashton, who was at this time in 
 Eiiuburgli, watching the progress of some state-intrigue ; the 
 Lord Keeper only received society out of policy or ostentation, 
 and was by nature rather reserved and unsociable ; and thus 
 no cavalier appeared to rival or to obscure the ideal picture of 
 chivalrous excellence which Lucy had pictured to herself iu 
 the M ister of Ravenswood. 
 
 While Lucy indulged in these dreams, she made frequent 
 visits to old blind Alice, hoping it would be easy to lead her 
 to talk on the subject which at present she had so imprudently 
 admitt3l to 03cupy so large a portion of her thoughts. But 
 Alice did not in this particular gratify her wishes and expec- 
 tations. She spoke readily, and with pathetic feeling, con- 
 cerning the fainily in general, but seemed to observe an 
 especial and cautious silence on the subject of the present 
 representative. The little she said of him was not altogether 
 so favorable as Lucy had anticipated. She hinted that he was 
 of a stern and unforgiving character, more ready to resent 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR 49 
 
 than to pardon injuries ; and Lucy combined, witli great 
 alarm, the hints which she now dropped of these dangerous 
 qualities with Alice's advice to her father, so emphatically 
 given, ''to beware of Kavenswood." 
 
 But that very Ravenswood, of whom such unjust suspi- 
 cions had been entertained, had, almost immediately after they 
 had been uttered, confuted them by saving at once her 
 father's life and her own. Had he nourished such black re- 
 venge as Alice's dark hints seemed to indicate, no deed of 
 active guilt was necessary to the full gratification of that evil 
 passion. He needed but to have withheld for an instant his 
 indispensable and effective assistance, and the object of his 
 resentment must iiave perished, without any direct aggression 
 on his part, by a death equally fearful and certain. (She con- 
 ceived, therefore, that some secret prejudice, or the suspi- 
 cions incident to age and misfortune, had led Alice to form 
 conclusions injurious to the character, and irreconcilable both 
 with the generous conduct and noble features, of tlie Master 
 of Ravenswood. And in this belief Lucy re^Dosed her hope, 
 and went on weaving her enchanted web of fairy tissue, as 
 beautiful and transient as the film of the gossamer when it is 
 pearled with tlie morning dew and glimmering to the sun. 
 
 Her father, in the mean while, as well as the Master of 
 Ravenswood, were making reflections, as frequent though 
 more solid than those of Lucy, upon the singular event which 
 had taken place. The Lord Keeper's first task, when he re- 
 turned home, was to ascertain by medical advice that his 
 daughter had sustained no injury from the dangerous and 
 alarming situation in which she had been placed. Satisfied 
 on this topic, he proceeded to revise the memoranda which 
 he had taken down from the mouth of the person employed 
 to interrupt the funeral service of the late Lord Ravenswood. 
 Bred to casuistry, and well accustomed to practise the ambi- 
 dexter ingenuity of the bar, it cost him little trouble to soften 
 the features of the tumult which he had been at first so anx- 
 ious to exaggerate. He preached to his colleagnes of the 
 privy council the necessity of using conciliatory measures 
 with young men, whose blood and temper were hot, and their 
 experience of life limited. He did not hesitate to attribute 
 some censure to the conduct of the officer, as having been 
 unnecessarily irritating. 
 
 These were the contents of his public dispatches. The 
 letters which he wrote to those private friends into whose 
 management the matter was likely to fall were of a yet more 
 favorable tenor. He represented that lenity in this case would 
 
50 WAVEBLEY NOVELS 
 
 be equally politic and popular, whereas, considering the high 
 respect with which tlie rites of interment are regarded in 
 Scotland, any severity exercised against the Master of Eavens- 
 wood for protecting those of his father from interruption, 
 would be on all sides most unfavorably construed. And, 
 finally, assuming the language of a generous and high-spirited 
 man, he made it his particular request that this ali'air should 
 be passed over without severe notice. He alluded with deli- 
 cacy to the predicament in which he himself stood with young 
 Ravenswood, as having succeeded in the long train of litiga- 
 tion by which the fortunes of that noble house had been so 
 much reduced, and confessed it would be most peculiarly 
 acceptable to his own feelings, could he find means in some 
 sort to counterbalance the disadvantages which he had occa- 
 sioned the family, though only in the prosecution of his just 
 and lawful rights. He therefore made it his particular and 
 personal request that the matter should have no farther con- 
 sequences, and insinuated a desire that he himself should have 
 the merit of having put a stop to it by his favorable report 
 and intercession. It was particularly remarkable that, con- 
 trary to his uniform practice, he made no special communica- 
 tion to Lady Ashton upon the subject of the tumult ; and 
 although he mentioned the alarm which Lucy had received 
 from one of the wild cattle, yet he gave no detailed account of 
 an incident so interesting and terrible. 
 
 There was much surprise among Sir William Ashton's 
 political friends and colleagues on receiving letters of a tenor 
 so unexpected. On comparing notes together, one smiled, one 
 put up his eyebrows, a third nodded acquiescence in the gen- 
 eral wonder, and a fourth asked if they were sure these were 
 all the letters the Lord Keeper had written on the subject. 
 *'It runs strangely in my mind, my lords, that none of these 
 advices contain the root of the matter." 
 
 But no secret letters of a contrary nature had been re- 
 ceived, although the question seemed to imply the possibility 
 of their existence. 
 
 "Well," said an old gray-headed statesman, who had con- 
 trived, by shifting and trimming, to maintain his post at the 
 steerage through all the changes of course which the vessel 
 had held for thirty years, " I thought Sir William would hae 
 verified the auld Scottish saying, 'As soon comes the lamb's 
 skin to market as the auld tup's. ^ " 
 
 " We must please him after his own fashion," said anoth- 
 er, '* though it be an unlooked-for one." 
 
 " A wilful man maun hae his way," answered the old 
 counsellor. 
 
THE BRIDE OF LA3IMERM00R 51 
 
 "The Keeper will rue this before year and day are out/* 
 said a third ; "the Master of Eavenswood is the lad to wind 
 him a pirn." 
 
 " Why, what would you do, my lords, with the poor young 
 fellow ?" said a noble Marquis present. " The Lord Keeper 
 has got all his estates ; he has not a cross to bless himself 
 with." 
 
 On which the ancient Lord Turutippet replied, 
 
 " If he hasna gear to fine, 
 He has shins to pine. 
 
 And that was our way before the Revolution : Luitur cum 
 perfiona, qui luere non potest cum crumena. Hegh, my lords, 
 that's gude law Latin." 
 
 "1 can see no motive," replied the Marquis, "that any 
 noble lord can have for urging this matter farther ; let the 
 Lord Keeper have the power to deal in it as he pleases." 
 
 "Agree, agree — remit to the Lord Keeper, with any other 
 person for fashion's sake — Lord Hirplehooly, who is bed- 
 ridden — ^one to be a quorum. Make your entry in the 
 minutes, Mr. Clerk. And now, my lords, there is that young 
 scattergood the Laird of Bucklaw's fine to be disponed upon. 
 I suppose it goes to my Lord Treasurer ?" 
 
 " Sliamo be in my meal-poke, then," exclaimed Lord Turn- 
 tippst, "and your hand aye in the nook of it ! I had set that 
 down for a bye-bit between meals for mysell." 
 
 "To use one of your favorite saws, my lord," replied the 
 Marquis, "you are like the miller's dog, that licks his lips 
 befor3 the bag is untied : the man is not fined yet." 
 
 " But that costs but twa skarts of a pen," said Lord Turn- 
 tippet ; "and surely there is nae noble lord that will presume 
 t3 siy t'lat I, wha hae complied wi' a' compliances, taen all 
 manner of tests, abjured all that was to be abjured, and 
 sworn a' that was to be sworn, for these thirty years bye-past, 
 sticking fast by my duty to the state through good report and 
 bad report, shouldna hae something now and then to synd 
 my mouth wi' after sic drouthy wark ? Eh ?" 
 
 "It would be very unreasonable indeed, my lord." replied 
 the Marquis, "had we either thought that your lordship's 
 drought was quenchable, or observed anything stick in your 
 throat that required washing down." 
 
 And so we close the scene on the privy council of that 
 period. 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 
 For this are all these warriors come, 
 
 To hear an idle tale ; 
 And o'er our death-accustom'd arms 
 Shall silly tears prevail ? 
 
 Henry Mackenzie. 
 
 On the evening of the day when tlie Lord Keeper and hit 
 daughter were saved from such imminent peril, two strangers 
 were seated in tlie most private apartment of a small obscure 
 inn, or rather alehouse, called the Tod's Den [Hole], about 
 three or four [five or six] miles from the Castle of Kavens- 
 wood, and as far from the ruinous tower of Wolf's Crag, be- 
 twixt which two j^laces it was situated. 
 
 One of these strangers was about forty years of age, tall, 
 and thin in tlie flanks, with an aquiline nose, dark penetrat- 
 ing eyes, and a shrewd but sinister cast of countenance, 
 other was about fifteen years younger, short, stout, ruudy- 
 faced, and red-liaired, with an open, resolute, and cheerful 
 eye, to which careless and fearless freedom and inward daring 
 gave fire and expression, notwithstanding its light gray color. 
 A stoup of wine (for in those days it was served out from the 
 cask in pewter flagons) was placed on the table, and each 
 had his quaigh or bicker before him. But there was little 
 appearance of conviviality. With foHed arms and looks of 
 anxious expectation, they eyed each other in silence, each 
 wrapped in his own thoughts, and holding no communication 
 with his neighbor. At lengtli tlie younger broke silence by 
 exclaiming, " What the foul fiend can detain the Master so 
 long ? He must have miscarried in his enterprise. Why did 
 you dissuade me from going with him ? " 
 
 " One man is enough to right his own wrong," said the 
 taller and older personage ; "we venture our lives for him in 
 coming thus far on such an errand." 
 
 ''You are but a craven after all, Craigengelt," answered 
 the younger, "'and that's what many folk have thought you 
 before now." 
 
 " But what none has dared to tell me,'' said Craigengelt, 
 laying his hand ou the hilt of his sword ; " and, but that ] 
 
 -^ 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOGR 58 
 
 hold a hasty man no better than a fool, I would " he 
 
 paused for his companion's answer. 
 
 '■' Would you ?" said the otlier, coolly ; " and why do you 
 not then ?" 
 
 Craigengelt drew liis cutlass an inch or two, and then re< 
 turned it with violence into the scabbard — " Because there ib 
 a deeper stake to be played for than the lives of twenty hare- 
 brained gowks like you.'' 
 
 " You are right there," said his companion, " for if it 
 were not that these forfeitures, and that last fine that the old 
 driveller Turntippet is gaping for, and which, I dare say, is 
 laid on by this time, have fairly driven me out of house and 
 home, I were a coxcomb and a cuckoo to boot to trust your 
 fair promises of getting me a commission in the Irish brig-^tide. 
 What have I to do with the Irish brigade ? I am a plain 
 Scotchman, as my father was before me ; and my grandaunt. 
 Lady Girnington, cannot live forever." 
 
 ''Ay, Bucklaw," observed Craigengelt, "but she may 
 live for many a long day ; and for your father, he had land 
 and living, kept himself close from wadsetters and money- 
 lenders, paid each man his due, and lived on his own." 
 
 "And whose fault is it that I have not done so too?'* 
 said Bucklaw — " whose but the devil's and yours, and such- 
 like as you, that have led me to the far end of a fair estate ? 
 And now I shall be obliged, I suppose, to shelter and shift 
 about like yourself : live one week upon a line of secret intel- 
 ligence from Saint Germains ; another upon a report of a 
 rising in the Highlands ; get my breakfast and morning 
 draught of sack from old Jacobite ladies, and give them locks 
 of my old wig for the Chevalier's hair ; second my friend in 
 his quarrel till he comes to the field, and then flinch from 
 him lest so important a politic;d agent should perish from the 
 way. All this I must do for bread, besides calling myself a 
 captain ! " 
 
 "You think you are making a fine speech now," said 
 Craigengelt, "and sliowing much wit at my expense. Is 
 starving or hanging better than the life I am obliged to lead, 
 because the present fortunes of the king cannot sufficiently 
 support his envoys ? " 
 
 " Starving is honester, Craigengelt, and hanging is like to 
 be the end on't. But what you mean to make of this poor 
 fellow Ravenswood, I know not. He has no money left, any 
 more than I : his lands are all pawned and pledged, and the 
 interest eats up the rents, and is not satisfied, and what do 
 you hope to make by meddling in his affairs ?" 
 
54 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 " Content yourself, Bucklaw ; I know my business," re^ 
 plied Craigengelt. " Besides that his name, and his father's 
 services in 1689, will make such an acquisition sound well 
 both at Versailles and Saint Germains, you will also please be 
 informed that the Master of Eavenswood is a very different 
 kind of a young fellow from you. He has parts and address, 
 as well as courage and talents, and will present himself 
 abroad like a young man of head as well as heart, who knows 
 something more than the speed of a horse or the flight of a 
 hawk. I have lost credit of late, by bringing over no one 
 that had sense to know more than how to unharbor a stag, or 
 take and reclaim an eyas. The Master has education, sense, 
 and penetration." 
 
 ''And yet is not wise enough to escape the tricks of a 
 kidnapper, Craigengelt ?" replied the younger man. "But 
 don't be angry ; you know you will not fight, and so it is as 
 well to leave your hilt in peace and quiet, and tell me in 
 sober guise how you drew the Master into your confi- 
 dence ? " 
 
 ''By flattering his love of vengeance, Bucklaw," answered 
 Craigengelt. " He has always distrusted me ; but I watched 
 my time, and struck while his temper was red-hot with the 
 sense of insult and of wrong. He goes now to expostulate, as 
 he says, and perhaps thinks, with Sir William Ashton. I say, 
 that if they meet, and the lawyer puts him to his defence, the 
 Master will kill him ; for he had that sparkle in his eye 
 which never deceives you when you would read a man's pur- 
 pose. At any rate, he will give him such a bullying as will 
 be construed into an assault on a privy councillor ; so there 
 will be a total breach betwixt him and government. Scot- 
 land will be too hot for him ; France will gain him ; and we 
 will all set sail together in the French brig ' L'Espoir,' 
 which is hovering for us off Eyemouth." 
 
 "Content am I," said Bucklaw; "Scotland has little 
 left that I care about ; and if carrying the Master with us 
 will get us a better reception in France, why, so be it, a God's 
 name. I doubt our own merits will procure us slender pre- 
 ferment ; and I trust he will send a ball through the Keeper's 
 head before he joins us. One or two of these scoundrel 
 statesmen should be shot once a year, just to keep the others 
 on their good behavior." 
 
 " That is very true, "replied Craigengelt ; "and it reminds 
 me that I must go and see that our horses have been fed, and 
 are in readiness ; for, should such deed be done, it will be no 
 time for grass to grow beneath their heels." He proceeded 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR 55 
 
 as far as the door, then turned back with a look of earnest- 
 ness, and said to Bucklaw, "Whatever should come of this 
 business, I am sure you will do me tlie justice to remember 
 that I said nothing to the Master which could imply my ac- 
 cession to any act of violence which he may take it into his 
 head to commit.'" 
 
 "No, no, not a single word like accession," replied Buck- 
 law; "you know too well the risk belonging to these two 
 terrible words, 'art and part.'" Then, as if to himself, he 
 recited the following lines : 
 
 " The dial spoke not, but it made shrewd signs, 
 And pointed full upon the stroke of murder." 
 
 '* What is that you are talking to yourself ?" said Craig- 
 engelt, turning back with some anxiety. 
 
 " Nothing, only two lines I have heard upon the stage,'' 
 replied his companion. 
 
 "Bucklaw," said Craigengelt, "I sometimes tliink you 
 should have been a stage-player yourself ; all is fancy and frolic 
 with you," 
 
 "I have often thought so myself," said Bucklaw. "I 
 believe it would be safer than acting with you in the Fatal 
 Conspiracy. But away, play your own part, and look after 
 the horses like a groom as you are. A play-actor — a stage- 
 player !" he repeated to himself ; "that would have deserved 
 a stab, but that Craigengelt's a coward. And yet I should 
 like the profession well enough. Stay, let me see; ay, I 
 would come out in Alexander — 
 
 " ' Thus from the grave I rise to save my love, 
 
 Draw all your swords, and quick as lightning move. 
 When I rush on, sure none will dare to stay ; 
 'Tis love commands, and glory leads the way.' " 
 
 As with a voice of thunder, and his hand upon his sword, 
 Bucklaw repeated the ranting couplets of poor Lee, Craigen- 
 gelt re-entered with a face of alarm. 
 
 " We are undone, Bucklaw ! The Master's led horse has 
 cast himself over his halter in the stable, and is dead lame. 
 His hackney will be set up with the day's work, and now he 
 has no fresh horse ; he will never get off." 
 
 "Egad, there will be no moving with the speed of light- 
 ning this bout," said Bucklaw, dryly. "But stay, you can 
 give him yours." 
 
5« WA VERLEY ]S0 VEL3 
 
 ♦'What! and be taken myself? I thank you for the 
 proposal," said Craigengelt. 
 
 "Why," replied Buckiaw, "if the Lord Keeper should 
 have met with a mischance, which for my part I cannot sup- 
 pose, for the Master is not the lad to shoot an old and unarmed 
 man — but if there should have been a fray at the Castle, you 
 are neither art nor part in it, you know, so have nothing to 
 fear." 
 
 " True, true," answered the other, with embarrassment ; 
 *'but consider my commission from Saint Germains." 
 
 " "Which many men think is a commission of your own 
 making, noble Captain. Well, if you will not give him your 
 horse, why, d — n it, he must have mine." 
 
 "Yours?" said Craigengelt. 
 
 "Ay, mine," repeated Buckiaw; "it shall never be said 
 that I agreed to back a gentleman in a little affair of honor, 
 and neither helped him on with it nor off from it." 
 
 " You will give him your horse ? and have you considered 
 the loss?" 
 
 "Loss ! why. Gray Gilbert cost me twenty Jacobuses, 
 that's true ; but then his hackney is worth something, and his 
 Black Moor is worth twice as much were he sound, and I 
 know how to handle him. Take a fat sucking mastiff whelp, 
 flay and bowel him, stuff the body full of black and gray snails, 
 roast a reasonable time, and baste with oil of spikenard, 
 saff'ron, cinnamon, and honey, anoint with the dripping, 
 working it in " 
 
 " Yes, Buckiaw ; but in the mean while, before the sprain 
 is cured, nay, before the whelp is roasted, you will be caught 
 and hung. Depend on it, the chase will be hard after Ravens- 
 wood. I wish we had made our place of rendezvous nearer 
 to the coast." 
 
 " On my faith, then," said Buckiaw, " I had best go off 
 just now, and leave my horse for him. Stay — stay, becomes : 
 I hear a horse's feet." 
 
 "Are you sure there is only one ?" said Craigengelt. "I 
 fear there is a chase ; I think I hear three or four galloping 
 together. I am sure I hear more horses than one." 
 
 "Pooh, pooh, it is the wench of the house clattering to 
 the well in her pattens. By my faith, Captain, you should 
 give up both your captainship and your secret service, for you 
 are as easily scared as a wild goose. But here comes the 
 Master alone, and looking as gloomy as a night in Novem- 
 ber." 
 
 The Master of Eavenswood entared t)ie room accordingly. 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERJ^TOUR 57 
 
 his cloak muffled around him, his arms folded, his looks 
 stern, and at the same time dejected. He flung his cloak 
 from him as he entered, threw himself upon a chair, and ap- 
 peared sunk in a profound reverie. 
 
 "What has happened? What have you done?" was 
 nastily demanded by Craigengelt and Bucklaw in the same 
 moment. 
 
 " Nothing," was the short and sullen answer. 
 
 " Nothing ! and left us, determined to call the old villain 
 to account for all the injuries that you, we, and the country 
 have received at his hand ? Have you seen him ? " 
 
 "1 have," replied the Master of Ravenswood. 
 
 *' Seen him — and come away without settling scores which 
 have been so long due ?" said Bucklaw ; "I would not have 
 expected that at the hand of the Master of Eavenswood." 
 
 " No matter what you expected," replied Ravenswood ; 
 "it is not to you, sir, that I shall be disposed to render any 
 reason for my conduct." 
 
 " Patience, Bucklaw," said Craigengelt, interrupting his 
 companion, who seemed about to make an augry reply. 
 " The Master has been interrupted in his purpose by some 
 accident ; but he must excuse the anxious curiosity of friends 
 who are devoted to his cause like you and me." 
 
 "Friends, Captain Craigengelt!" retorted Ravenswood, 
 haughtily; "I am ignorant what familiarity has passed be- 
 twixt us to entitle you to use that expression. I think our 
 friendship amounts to this, that we agreed to leave Scotland 
 together so soon as I should have visited the alienated man- 
 sion of my fathers, and had an interview with its present 
 possessor — I will not call him proprietor." 
 
 " Very true. Master," answered Bucklaw ; "and as we 
 thought you had a mind to do something to put your neck 
 in jeopardy, Craigie and I very courteously agreed to tarry for 
 you, although ours miglit run some risk in consequence. As 
 to Craigie, indeed, it does not very much signify : he had 
 gallows written on his brow in the hour of his birth ; but I 
 should not like to discredit my parentage by coming to such 
 an end in another man's cause." 
 
 "Gentlemen," said tiie Master of Ravenswood, "I am 
 sorry if I have occasioned you any inconvenience, but I must 
 claim the right of judging what is best for my own affairs, 
 without rendering explanations to any one. I have altered 
 my mind, and do not design to leave the country this sea- 
 son." 
 
 " Not to leave the country. Master ! " exclaimed Craigen- 
 
68 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 gelt. " Not to go over, after all the trouble and expense i 
 have incurred — after all the risk of discovery, and the expense 
 of freight and demurrage ! " 
 
 " Sir," replied the Master of Eavenswood, ''when I de- 
 signed to leave this country in this haste, I made use of your 
 obliging offer to procure me means of conveyance ; but I do 
 not recollect that I pledged myself to go off, if I found occa- 
 sion to alter my mind. For your trouble on my account, I 
 am sorry, and I thank you ; your expense," he added, putting 
 his hand into his pocket, " admits a more solid compensa- 
 tion : freight and demurrage are matters with which I am 
 unac(|uainted. Captain Craigengelt, but take my purse and 
 pay yourself according to your own conscience." And accord- 
 ingly he tendered a purse with some gold in it to the soi- 
 disatit captain. 
 
 But here Bucklaw interposed in his turn. " Your fingers, 
 Craigie, seem to itch for that same piece of green network," 
 said he ; "but I make my vow to God, that if they offer to 
 close upon it, I will chop them off with my whinger. Since 
 the Master has changed his mind, I suppose we need stay 
 here no longer ; but in the first place I beg leave to tell 
 him " 
 
 " Tell him anything you will," said Craigengelt, "if you 
 will first allow me to state the inconveniences to which he 
 will expose himself by quitting our society, to remind him of 
 the obstacles to his remaining here, and of the difficulties at- 
 tending his proper introduction at Versailles and Saint Ger- 
 mains without the countenance of those who have established 
 useful connections." 
 
 "Besides forfeiting the friendship," said Bucklaw, "of 
 at least one man of spirit and honor." 
 
 "Gentlemen," said Ravenswood, "permit me once more 
 to assure you that you have been pleased to attach to our 
 temporary connection more importance than I ever meant 
 that it should have. When I repair to foreign courts, I shall 
 not need the introduction of an intriguing adventurer, nor is 
 it necessary for me to set value on the friendship of a hot- 
 headed bully." With these words, and without waiting for an 
 answer, he left the apartment, remounted his horse, and was 
 heard to ride off. 
 
 "Mortbleu!" said Captain Craigengelt, "my recruit is 
 lost!" 
 
 " Ay, Captain," said Bucklaw, '^ the salmon is off with 
 hook and all. But I will after him, for I have had more of 
 his insolence than I can well digest." 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR 59 
 
 Craigeugelt offered to accompany him ; but Bucklaw re- 
 plied, " No, no, Captain, keep you the cheek of the chimney- 
 nook till I come back ; it's good sleeping in a haill skin. 
 
 " ' Little kens the auld wife that sits by the fire, 
 
 How cauld the wind blaws in huiie-burle swlre.' " 
 
 And singing as he went, he left the apartment. 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 
 Now, Billy Bewick, keep good heart, 
 
 And of thy talking let nie be ; 
 But if thou art a man, as I am sure thou art, 
 
 Come over the dike and fight with me. 
 
 Old Ballad. 
 
 "The Master of Ravenswood had mounted the ambling hack> 
 ney which he before rode, on finding the accident which had 
 happened to his led horse, and, for the animaFs ease, was 
 proceeding at a slow pace from the Tod's Den towards his old 
 tower of Wolf's Crag,* when he heard the galloping of a 
 horse beliind him, and, looking back, perceived that he was 
 pursued by young Bucklaw, who had been delayed a few 
 minutes in the pursuit by the irresistible temptation of giving 
 the hostler at the Tod's Den some recipe for treating the 
 lame horse. This brief delay he had made up by hard gallop- 
 ing, and now overtook the Master where the road traversed 
 a waste moor. '• Halt, sir," cried Bucklaw ; " I am no 
 political agent ^no Captain Craigengelt, whose life is too 
 important to be hazarded in defence of his honor. I am 
 Frank Hayston of Bucklaw, and no man injures me by word, 
 deed, sign, or look, but he must render me an account of it."' 
 
 " This is all very well, Mr. Hayston of Bucklaw," replied 
 the Master of Ravenswood, in a tone the moet calm and in- 
 different ; "but I have no quarrel with you, and desire to 
 have none. Our roads homeward, as well as our roads 
 through life, lie in different directions ; there is no occasion 
 for us crossing each other." 
 
 ''Is there not?" said Bucklaw, impetuoiTsly. '^By 
 Heaven ! but I say that there is, though r you called us 
 Intriguing adventurers." 
 
 " Be correct in your recollection, Mr, Hayston ; it was to 
 your companion only I applied that epithet, and you know 
 him to be no better." 
 
 " And what then ? He was my companion for the time, 
 and no man shall insult my companion, right or wrong, while 
 he is in my company." 
 
 ' See Introduction to Chronicles of tJie Canongate CLaing). 
 60 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR 61 
 
 " Then, Mr. Hayston," replied Eavenswood, with the same 
 cf^mposure, " you should choose your society better, or you are 
 like to have much work in your capacity of their champion. 
 Go home, sir ; sleep, and have more reason in your wrath to- 
 morrow." 
 
 " Not so. Master, you have mistaken your man ; high airs 
 and wise saws shall not carry it off thus. Besides, you termed 
 me bully, and you shall retract the word before we part." 
 
 " Faith, scarcely," said Eavenswood, " unless you show 
 me better reason for thinking myself mistaken than you are 
 now producing." 
 
 '•' Then, Master," said Bucklaw, " though I should be sorry 
 to offer it to a man of your quality, if you will not justify 
 your incivility, or retract it, or name a place of meeting, you 
 must here undergo the hard word and the hard blow." 
 
 "Neither will be necessar}'," said Eavenswood; "1 am 
 satisfied with what I have done to avoid an affair with you. 
 If you are serious, this place will serve as well as another." 
 
 " Dismount then, and draw," said Bucklaw, setting him 
 an example. " I always thought and said you were a pretty 
 man ; I should be sorry to report you otherwise." 
 
 " You shall have no reason, sir," said Eavenswood, alight- 
 ing, and putting himself into a posture of defence. 
 
 Their swords crossed, and the combat commenced with 
 great spirit on the part of Bucklaw, who was well accustomed 
 to affairs of the kind, and distinguished by address and dex- 
 terity at his weapon. In the present case, however, he did 
 not use his skill to advantage ; for, having lost temper at the 
 cool and contemptuous manner in which the Master of Ea- 
 venswood had long refused, and at length granted, him satis- 
 faction, and urged by his impatience, he adopted the part of 
 an assailant with inconsiderate eagerness. The Master, with 
 equal skill, and much greater composure, remained chiefly on 
 the defensive, and even declined to avail himself of one or two 
 advantages afforded him by the eagerness of his adversary. 
 At length, in a desperate lunge, which he followed with an 
 attempt to close, Bucklaw's foot slipped, and he fell on the 
 short grassy turf on which they were fighting, "Take your 
 life, sir," said the Master of Eavenswood, '*' and mend it if yon 
 can." 
 
 " It would be but a cobbled piece of work, I fear," said 
 Bucklaw, rising slowly and gathering up his sword, much 
 less disconcerted with the issue of the combat than could have 
 been expected from the impetuosity of his temper. " I thank 
 you for my life. Master," he pursued. " There is my hand ; 
 
83 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 I bear no ill-will to you, either for my bad luck or your bexter 
 swordmanship." 
 
 The Master looked steadily at him for an instant, then ex- 
 tended his hand to him. "Bucklaw," he said, "you are a 
 generous fellow, and I have done you wrong. I heartily ask 
 your pardon for the expression which offended you ; it was 
 hastily and incautiously uttered, and I am convinced it is 
 totally misapplied. '^ 
 
 "Are you indeed. Master ? ^' said Bucklaw, his face re- 
 suming at once its natural expression of light-hearted care- 
 lessness and audacity ; " that is more than I expected of you ; 
 for. Master, men say you are not ready to retract your 
 opinions and your language." 
 
 " Not when I have well considered them," said the 
 Master. 
 
 " Then you are a little wiser than I am, for I always give 
 my friend satisfaction first, and explanation afterwards. If 
 one of us falls, all accounts are settled ; if not, men are never 
 so ready for peace as after war. But what does that bawling 
 brat of a boy want ?" said Bucklaw. "' I wish to Heaven he 
 had come a few minutes sooner ! and yet it must have been 
 ended some time, and perhaps this way is as well as any 
 other." 
 
 As he spoke, the boy he mentioned came up, cudgelling an 
 ass, on which he was mounted, to the top of its speed, and 
 sending, like one of Ossian's heroes, his voice before him 
 — " Gi-entlemen — gentlemen, save yourselves ! for the gude- 
 wife bade us tell ye there were folk in her house had taen 
 Captain Oraigengelt, and were seeking for Bucklaw, and that 
 ye behoved to ride for it." 
 
 " By my faith, and that's very true, my man," said Buck- 
 law ; " and there's a silver sixpence for your news, and I 
 would give any man twice as much would tell me which way 
 I should ride." 
 
 " That will I, Bucklaw," said Ravenswood ; " ride home 
 to Wolf's Orag with me. There are places in the old tower 
 where you might lie hid, were a thousand men to seek you." 
 
 " Bat that will bring you into trouble yourself. Master ; 
 and unless you be in the Jacobite scrape already, it is quite 
 neelless for me to drag you in." 
 
 " Not a whit ; I have nothing to fear." 
 
 "Then I will ride with you blithely, for, to say the truth, 
 I do not know the rendezvous that Craigie was to guide us to 
 this night ; and I am sure that, if he is taken, he will tell all 
 the truth of me, and twenty lies of you, in order to save him- 
 self from the withiev'* 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR 63 
 
 They mounted and rode off in company accordingly, 
 striking off the ordinary road, and holding their way by wild 
 moorish in frequented paths, with which the gentlemen were 
 well acquainted from the exercise of the chase, but through 
 which others would have had much difficulty in tracing their 
 course. They rode for some time in silence, making such 
 haste as the condition of Ravenswood's horse permitted, until 
 night having gradually closed around them, they discontinued 
 their speed, both from the difficulty of discovering their path, 
 and from the hope that they were beyond the reach of pursuit 
 or observation. 
 
 *' And now that we have drawn bridle a bit," said Buck- 
 law, " I would fain ask you a question. Master." 
 
 *' Ask, and welcome," said Ravenswood, " but forgive my 
 not answering it, unless I think proper. " 
 
 "Well, it is simply this," answered his late antagonist : 
 " What, in the name of old Sathan, could make you, who 
 stand so highly on your reputation, think for a moment of 
 drawing up with such a rogue as Craigengelt, and such a 
 scapegrace as folk call Bucklaw ?" 
 
 '' Simply because I was desperate, and sought desperate 
 associates." 
 
 " And what made you break off from us at the nearest ?" 
 again demanded Bucklaw. 
 
 " Because I had changed my mind," said the Master, 
 *'and renounced my enterprise, at least for the present. And 
 now that I have answered your questions fairly and frankly, 
 tell me what makes you associate with Craigengelt, so much 
 beneath you both in birth and in spirit 'i" 
 
 "In plain terms," answered Bucklaw, "because I am a 
 fool, who have gambled away my land in these times. My 
 grandaunt, Lady Girnington, has taen a new tack of life, I 
 think, and I could only hope to get something by a change 
 of government. Craigie was a sort of gambling acquaint- 
 ance ; he saw my condition, and, as the devil is always at one^s 
 elbow, told me fifty lies about his credentials from Versailles, 
 and his interest at Saint Germains, promised me a captain's 
 commission at Paris, and I have been ass enough to put my 
 thumb under his belt. I dare say, by this time, he has told a 
 dozen pretty stories of me to the government. And this is 
 what I have got by wine, women, and dice, cocks, dogs, and 
 horses." 
 
 " Yes, Bucklaw," said the Master, " you have indeed 
 nourished in your bosom the snakes that ai-e now stinging 
 
 you." 
 
64 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 " That's home as well as true. Master/' replied his com- 
 panion ; " but. by your leave, you have nursed in your bosom 
 one great goodly snake that has swallowed all the rest, and is 
 as sure to devour you as my half-dozen are to make a meal on 
 all that's left of Bucklavv, which is but what lies between bon- 
 net and boot-heel." 
 
 "I must not," answered the Master of Ravenswood, 
 " challenge the freedom of speech in which I have set ex- 
 ample. What, to speak without a metaphor, do you call this 
 monstrous passion which you charge me with fostering ? " 
 
 '^ Revenge, my good sir — revenge ; which, if it be as gentle- 
 manlike a sin as Avine and wassail, with their et ceteras, is 
 equally unchristian, and not so bloodless. It is better break- 
 ing a parkpale to watch a doe or damsel than to shoot an old 
 luan. '' 
 
 ''I deny the purpose," said the Master of Ravenswood. 
 '• Oil my soul, I had no such intention ; I meant but to con- 
 f rcfnt the oppressor ere I left my native land, and upbraid him 
 ^ith his tyranny and its consequences. I would have stated 
 my wrongs so that they would have shaken his soul within 
 him." 
 
 " Yes," answered Bucklaw, " and he would have collared 
 you, and cried ' help,' and then you would have shaken the 
 soul out of him, I suppose. Your very look and manner 
 would have frightened the old man to death." 
 
 " Consider the provocation," answered Ravenswood — 
 "consider the ruin and death procured and caused by his 
 hard-hearted cruelty — an ancient house destroyed, an aSec- 
 tionate father murdered ! Why, in our old Scottish days, he 
 that sat quiet under such wrongs would have been held neither 
 lit to back a friend nor face a foe. " 
 
 "Well, Master, I am glad to see that the devil deals as 
 cunningly with other folk as he deals with me ; for whenever 
 I am about to commit any folly, he persuades me it is the most 
 necessary, gallant, gentlemanlike tiling on earth, and I am up 
 to saddlegirths in the bog before I see that the ground is soft. 
 And you. Master, might have turned out a murd a homi- 
 cide, just out of pure respect for your father's memory." 
 
 " There is more sense in3'0ur language, Bucklaw," replied 
 the Master, " than might have been expected from your con- 
 duct. It is too true, our vices steal upon us in forms out- 
 wardly as fair as those of the demons whom the superstitious 
 represent as intriguing with the human race, and are not dis- 
 covered in their native hideousness until we have clasped them 
 in our arms." 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR 65 
 
 "But we may throw them from us, though/' said Buck- 
 law, "and that is what 1 shall think of doing one of these 
 days — that is, when old Lady Girnington dies."' 
 
 " Did you ever hear the expression of the English divine ? " 
 said Ravenswood — " ' Hell is paved with good intentions/ — as 
 much as to say, they are more often formed than executed." 
 
 " Well," replied Bucklaw, "but I will begin this blessed 
 night, and have determined not to drink above one quart of 
 wine, unless your claret be of extraordinary quality." 
 
 " You will find little to tempt you at Wolffs Crag," said 
 the Master. "1 know not that I can jDromise you more than 
 the shelter of my roof ; all, and more than all, our stock of 
 wine and provisions was exhausted at the late occasion." 
 
 "Long may it be ere provision is needed for the like pur- 
 pose," answered Bucklaw ; "but you should not drink up the 
 last flask at a dirge ; there is ill luck in that." 
 
 " There is ill luck, I think, in whatever belongs to me," 
 said Ravenswood. " But yonder is Wolfs Crag, and whatever 
 it still contains is at your service." 
 
 The roar of the sea had long announced their approach to 
 the cliffs, on the summit of which, like the nest of some sea- 
 eagle, the founder of the f ortalice had perched his eyrie. The 
 pale moon, which had hitherto been co]itending with flitting 
 clouds, now shone out, and gave them a view of the solitary 
 and naked tower, situated on a projecting clifl' that beetled 
 on the German Ocean. On three sides the rock was pre- 
 cipitous ; on the fourth, which was that towards the land, it 
 liad been originally fenced by au artificial ditch and draw- 
 bridge, but the latter was broken down and ruinous, and the 
 former had been in part filled uj), so as to allow passage for a 
 horseman into the narrow courtyard, encircled on two sides 
 with low offices and stables, partly ruinous, and closed on the 
 landward front by a low embattled wall, while the remaining 
 side of the quadrangle was occupied by the tower itself, which, 
 tall and narrow, and built of a grayish stone, stood glimmer- 
 ing in the moonlight, like the sheeted spectre of some huge 
 giant. A wilder or more disconsolate dwelling it was perhaps 
 difficult to conceive. The sombrous and heavy sound of the 
 billows, successively dashing against the rocky beach at a pro- 
 found distance beneath, was to the ear what the landscape was 
 to the eye — a symbol of unvaried and monotonous melan- 
 choly, not unmingled with horror. 
 
 Although the night was not far advanced, there Avas no 
 sign of living inhabitant about this forlorn abode, excepting 
 that one, and only one, of the narrow and stanehelled win- 
 
66 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 dows which appeared at irregalur heights and distances in the 
 walls of the building showed a small glimmer of light. 
 
 " There," said Eavenswood, '' sits the only male domestic • 
 tliat remains to the house of Eavenswood ; and it is well that 
 he does remain there, since otherwise we had little hope . to 
 find either light or fire. But follow me cautiously ; the road 
 is narrow, and admits only one horse in front." 
 
 In effect, the path led along a kind of isthmus, at the pen- 
 insular extremity of which the tower was situated, with that 
 exclusive attention to strengtli and security, in preference to 
 every circumstance of convenience, which dictated to the 
 Scottish barons the choice of their situations, as well as their 
 style of building. 
 
 By adopting the cautious mode of approach recommended 
 by the proprietor of this wild hold, they entered the court- 
 yard in safety. But it was long ere the efforts of Ravens- 
 wood, tliough loudly exerted by knocking at the low- 
 browed entrance, and repeated shouts to Caleb to open the 
 gate and admit them, received any answer. 
 
 " The old man must be departed," he began to say, " or 
 fallen into some fit ; for the noise I have made would have 
 waked the seven sleepers." 
 
 At length a timid and hesitating voice replied, " Master 
 — Master of Ravenswood, is it you ? " 
 
 " Yes, it is I, Caleb ; open the door quickly." 
 
 " But is it you in very blood and body ? For I would 
 sooner face fifty deevils as my master's ghaist, or even his 
 wraith ; wherefore, aroint ye, if ye were ten times my master, 
 unless ye come in bodily shape, lith and limb." 
 
 "It is I, you old fool," answered Ravenswood, ''in bodily 
 shape and alive, save that I am half dead with cold." 
 
 The light at the upper window disappeared, and glancing 
 from loophole to loophole in slow succession, gave intimation 
 that the bearer was in the act of descending, with great de- 
 liberation, a winding staircase occupying one of the turrets 
 Avhich graced the angles of the old tower. The tardiness of 
 his descent extracted some exclamations of impatience from 
 Ravenswood, and several oaths from his less patient and more 
 mercurial companion. Caleb again paused ere he unbolted 
 the door, and once more asked if they were men of mould 
 that demanded entrance at this time of night. 
 
 " Were I near you, you old fool," said Bucklaw, *' I would 
 give you sufficient proofs of nn/ bodilf condition." 
 
 " Open the gate, Caleb," said his master, in a more sooth- 
 ing tone, partly from his regai'd to the ancient and faithful 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR 87 
 
 seneschal, partly perhaps because he thought that angry 
 words would be thrown away, so long as Caleb had a stout 
 iron-clinched oaken door betwixt his person and the speakers. 
 
 At length Caleb, with a trembling hand, undid the bars, 
 opened the heavy door, and stood before them, exhibiting his 
 thin gray hairs, bald forehead, and sharp high features, illu- 
 minated by a quivering lamp which he held in one hand, 
 while he shaded and protected its flame with the other. The 
 timorous, courteous glance which he threw around him, the 
 effect of the partial light upon his white hair and illumined 
 features, might have made a good painting ; but our travel- 
 lers were too impatient for security against the rising storm 
 to' permit them to indulge themselves in studying the pictur- 
 esque. "'Is it you, my dear master? — is it you, yourself, 
 indeed T' exclaimed the old domestic. " I am wae ye suld 
 hae stude waiting at your ain gate ; but wha wad hae thought 
 
 o' seeing ye sae sune, and a strange gentleman with a 
 
 [Here he exclaimed apart, as it Avere, and to some inmate of 
 the tower, in a voice not meant to be heard by those in the 
 court] Mysie — Mysie, woman ! stir for dear life, and get the 
 fire mended ; take the auld three-legged stool, or onything 
 that's readiest that will make a lowe. I doubt we are but 
 puirly provided, no expecting ye this some months, Avhen 
 doubtless ye wad hae been received conform till your rank, as 
 gude right is ; but natheless " 
 
 "^ Natheless, Caleb,'' said the Master, "we must have our 
 horses put up, and ourselves too, the best way we can. I hope 
 you are not sorry to see me sooner than you expected ?" 
 
 "Sorry, my lord ! I am sure ye sail aye be my lord wi' 
 honest folk, as your noble ancestors hae been these three 
 hundred years, and never asked a Whig's leave. Sorry to see 
 the Lord of Kavenswood at ane o' his ain castles ! [Then again 
 apart to his unseen associate behind the screen] Mysie, kill 
 the brood-hen without thinking twice on it ; let them care 
 that come ahint. No to say it's our best dwelling," he added, 
 turning to Bucklaw ; " but just a strength for the Lord of 
 Eavenswood to flee until — that is, no to flee, but to retreat 
 until in troublous times, like the present, when it was ill 
 convenient for him to live farther in the country in ony of 
 his better and mair principal manors ; but, for its antiquity, 
 maist folk think that the outside of Wolf's Crag is worthy of 
 a large perusal." 
 
 "And you are determined we shall have time to make 
 it," said Eavenswood, somewhat amused with the shifts the 
 old man used to detain them without doors until his confed- 
 erate lilysie had made her preparations within. 
 
88 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 " 0, never mind the outside of the house, my good 
 friend/' said Bucklaw ; " let's see the inside, and let our 
 horses see the stable, that's all." 
 
 " yes, sir — ay, sir — unquestionably, sir — my lord and 
 ony of his honorable companions -" 
 
 "But our horses, my old friend — our horses ; they will be 
 dead-foundered by standing here in the cold after riding hard, 
 and mine is too good to be spoiled ; therefore, once more, our 
 horses," exclaimed Bucklaw. 
 
 '' True — ay — -your horses — yes — I will call the grooms ;" 
 and sturdily did Caleb roar till the old tower rang again — 
 *'Jolin — -William — Saunders! The lads are gane out, , or 
 sleeping," he observed, after pausing for an answer, which he 
 knew that he had no human chance of receiving. " A' gaes 
 wrang when the Master's out-bye ; but I'll take care o' your 
 cattle my sell." 
 
 '^I think you had better," said Ravenswood, "otherwise 
 I see little chance of their being attended to at all." 
 
 " Wliisht, my lord — whisht, for Grod's sake," said Caleb, 
 in an imploring tone, and apart to his master ; "if ye dinna 
 regard your ain credit, think on mine ; we'll hae hard eneugh 
 wark to mak a decent night o't, wi' a' the lees I can tell." 
 
 "Well, well, never mi ud," said his master ; "goto the 
 stable. There is hay and corn, I trust ? " 
 
 " Ou ay, plenty of hay and corn ; " this was uttered bold- 
 ly and aloud, and, in a lower tone, "' there was some half fous 
 o' aits, and some taits o' meadow-hay, left after the burial." 
 
 " Very well," said Ravenswood, taking the lamp from his 
 domestic's unwilling hand, " I will show the stranger upstairs 
 myself." 
 
 "I canna think o' that, my lord ; if ye wad but have fire 
 minutes', or ten minutes', or, at maist, a quarter of an 
 hour's patience, and look at the fine moonlight prospect of 
 the Bass and Xorth Berwick Law till I sort the horses, I 
 would marshal ye up, as reason is ye suld be marshalled, your 
 lordship and your honorable visitor. And I hae lockit up 
 the siller candlesticks, and the lamp is not fit " 
 
 " It will do very well in the mean time," said Ravenswood, 
 *' and you will have no difficulty for want of light in the 
 stable, for, if I recollect, half the roof is off." 
 
 "Very true, my lord," replied the trusty adherent, and 
 with ready wit instantly added, "and the lazy sclater loons 
 have never come to put it on a' this while, your lordship." 
 
 " If I were disposed to jest at the calamities of my house,'' 
 said Ravenswood, as he led the way upstairs, " poor old 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR 69 
 
 Caleb would furnish me with ample meaus. His passion con- 
 sists in representing things about our miserable menage, not 
 as they are, but as, in his opinion, they ought to be ; and, to 
 say the truth, I have been often diverted with the poor 
 wretch's expedients to supply what he thought was essential 
 for the credit of the family, and his still more generous apol- 
 ogies for the want of those articles for which his ingenuity 
 could discover no substitute. But though the tower is none 
 of the largest, I shall have some trouble without him to find 
 the apartment in which there is a fire."^ 
 
 As he spoke thus, he opened the door of the hall. " Here, 
 at least," he said, "there is neither hearth nor harbor." 
 
 It was indeed a scene of desolation. A large vaulted 
 room, the beams of which, combined like those of West- 
 minster Hall, were rudely carved at the extremities, remained 
 nearly in the situation in which it had been left after the 
 entertainment at Allan Lord Eavenswood's funeral. Over- 
 turned pitchers, and black-jacks, and pewter stoups, and flag- 
 ons still cumbered the large oaken table ; glasses, those more 
 perishable implements of conviviality, many of which had 
 been voluntarily sacrificed by the guests in their enthusiastic 
 pledges to favorite toasts, strewed tlie stone floor with their 
 fragments. As for the articles of plate, lent for the purpose 
 by friends and kinsfolk, those had been carefully withdrawn so 
 soon as the ostentatious display of festivity, equally unneces- 
 sary and strangely timed, had been made and ended. Noth- 
 ing, in short, remained that indicated wealth ; all the signs 
 were those of recent Avastefulness and present desolation. The 
 black cloth hangings, which, on the late mournful occasion, 
 replaced the tattered moth-eaten tapestries, had been partly 
 pulled down, and, dangling from the wall in irregular fes- 
 toons, disclosed the rough stonework of the building, un- 
 smoothed either by plaster or the chisel. The seats thrown 
 iown, or left in disorder, intimated the careless confusion 
 which had concluded the mournful revel. "This room," 
 said Ravenswood, holding up the lamp — " this room, Mr. 
 Hayston, was riotous when it should have been sad ; it is a 
 just retribution that it should now be sad when it ought to 
 be cheerful." 
 
 They left this disconsolate apartment, and went upstairs, 
 where, after opening one or two doors in vain, Ravenswood 
 led the way into a little matted anteroom, in which, to their 
 great joy, they found a tolerably good fire, which Mysie, by 
 8ome such expedient as Caleb had suggested, had supplied 
 with a reasonable quantity of fuel. Glad at the heart to see 
 
70 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 more of comfort than the castle had yet seemed to offer, 
 Bucklaw rubbed his hands heartily over the fire, and now 
 listened with more complacency to the apologies which the 
 Master of Ravenswood offered. " Comfort, ^^ he said, " I 
 cannot provide for you, for I have it not for myself ; it is long 
 since these walls have known it, if, indeed, they were ever 
 acquainted with it. Shelter and safety, I think, I can 
 promise you.'' 
 
 "Excellent matters. Master," replied Bucklaw, "and, 
 with a mouthful of food and wine, positively all I can require 
 to-night." 
 
 "I fear," said the Master, "your supper will be a poor 
 one ; I hear the matter in discussion betwixt Caleb and Mysie. 
 Poor Balderstone is something deaf, among his other accom- 
 plishments, so that much of what he means should be spoken 
 aside is overheard by the whole audience, and especially by 
 those from whom he is most anxious to conceal his private 
 manoeuvres. Hark !" 
 
 They listened, and heard the old domestic's voice in con- 
 versation with Mysie to the following effect : 
 
 "Just mak the best o't — mak the best o't, woman; it's 
 easy to put a fair face on ony thing." 
 
 "But the auld brood-hen? She'll be as teugh as bow- 
 strings and bend-leather." 
 
 "Say ye made a mistake — say ye made a mistake, Mysie," 
 replied the faithful seneschal, in a soothing and undertoned 
 voice ; " tak it a' on yoursell ; never let the credit o' the 
 house suffer." 
 
 "But the brood-hen," remonstrated Mysie — " ou, she's 
 sitting some gate aneath the dais in the hall, and I am feared 
 to gae in in the dark for the bogle ; and if I didna see the 
 bogle, I could as ill see the hen, for it's pit-mirk, and there's 
 no another light in the house, save that very blessed lamp 
 whilk the Master has in his ain hand. And if I had the hen, 
 she's to pu', and to draw, and to dress ; how can I do that, 
 and them sitting by the only fire we have ?" 
 
 "Weel, weel, Mysie," said the butler, "bide ye there a 
 wee, and I'll try to get the lamp wiled away frae them." 
 
 Accordingly, Caleb Balderstone entered the apartment, 
 little aware that so much of his by-play had been audible 
 there. " Well, Caleb, my old friend, is there any chance of 
 supper ? " said the Master of Ravenswood. 
 
 " Chance of supper, your lordship ?" said Caleb, with an 
 emphasis of strong scorn at the implied doubt. " How 
 should there be ony question of that, and us in your lord- 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR W 
 
 ship's house ? Chance of supper, indeed ! But yell no be 
 for butcher-meat ? There's walth o' fat poultry, ready either 
 for spit or brander. The fat capon, Mysie !" he added, call- 
 ing out as boldly as if such a thing had been in existence. 
 
 " Quite unnecessary," said Bucklaw, who deemed himself 
 bound in courtesy to relieve some part of the anxious butler's 
 perplexity, " if you have anything cold, or a morsel of 
 bread." 
 
 " The best of bannocks ! " exclaimed Caleb, much re- 
 lieved ; ** and, for cauld meat, a' that we hae is cauld eneugh, 
 — howbeit, maist of the cauld meat and pastry Avas gieu to 
 the poor folk after the ceremony of interment, as gude reason 
 was ; nevertheless " 
 
 " Come, Caleb," said the Master of Ravenswood, ''I must 
 cut this matter short. This is the young Laird of Bucklaw ; 
 he is under hiding, and therefore, you know " 
 
 " He'll be nae nicer than your lordship's honor. I'se war- 
 rant," answered Caleb, cheerfully, with a nod of intelligence ; 
 *' I am sorry that the gentleman is under distress, but I am 
 blithe that he canna say muckle agane our housekeeping, 
 for I believe his ain pinches may match ours ; no that we are 
 pinched, thank God," he added, retracting the admission 
 which he had made in his first burst of joy, "but nae doubt 
 we are waur aff than we hae been, or suld be. And for eat- 
 ing — what signifies telling a lee ? there's just the hinder end 
 of the mutton-ham that has been but three times on the table, 
 and the nearer the bane the sweeter, as your honors weel 
 ken ; and — tliere's the heel of the ewe-milk kebbuck, wi' a 
 bit of nice butter, and — and — that's a' that's to trust to." 
 And with great alacrity he produced his slender stock of pro- 
 visions, and placed them with much formality upon a small 
 round table betwixt the two gentlemen, who were not de- 
 terred either by the homely quality or limited quantity of the 
 repast from doing it full justice. Caleb in the mean while 
 waited on them with grave officiousness, as if anxious to 
 make up, by his own respectful assiduity, for the want of all 
 other attendance. 
 
 But, alas ! how little on such occasions can form, however 
 anxiously and scrupulously observed, supply the lack of sub- 
 stantial fare ! Bucklaw, who had eagerly eaten a considerable 
 portion of the thrice-sacked mutton-ham, now began to de- 
 mand ale. 
 
 " I wadna just presume to recommend our ale," said Caleb ; 
 ** the maut was ill made, and there was awfu' thunner last 
 week ; but siccan water as the Tower well has ye'll seldom see, 
 Bucklaw. and that I'se engage for**' 
 
73 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 ** But if your alo is bad, you can let us have some wine,** 
 said Bucklaw, making a grimace at the mention of the pure 
 element which Caleb so earnestly recommended. 
 
 "Wine!" answered Caleb, undauntedly, " eneugh of 
 wine ! It was but twa days syne — wae's me for the cause — 
 there was as much wine drank in this house as would have 
 floated a pinnace. There never was lack of wine at Wolf's 
 Crag." 
 
 " Do fetch us some then," said his master, "instead of 
 talking about it." And Caleb boldly departed. 
 
 Every expended butt in the old cellar did he set a-tilt, and 
 shake with the desperate expectation of collecting enough of 
 the grounds of claret to fill the large pewter measure which he 
 carried in his hand. Alas ! each had been too devoutly 
 drained ; and, with all the squeezing and manoeuvring which 
 his craft as a butler suggested, he could only collect about 
 half a quart that seemed presentable. Still, however, Caleb 
 was too good a general to renounce the field without a strata- 
 gem to cover his retreat. He undauntedly threw down an 
 empty flagon, as if he had stumbled at the entrance of the 
 apartment, called upon Mysie to wipe up the wine that had 
 never been spilled, and placing the other vessel on the table, 
 hoped there was still enough left for their honors. There 
 was indeed ; for even Bucklaw, a sworn friend to the grape, 
 found no encouragement to renew his- first attack upon the 
 vintage of Wolf's Crag, but contented himself, however re- 
 luctantly, with a draught of fair water- Arrangements were 
 now made for his repose ; and as the secret chamber was as- 
 signed for this purpose, it furnished Caleb with a first-rate 
 and most plausible apology for all deficiencies of furniture, 
 bedding, etc. 
 
 " For wha," said he, " would have thought of the secret 
 chaumer being needed ? It has not been used ^ince the time 
 of the Cowrie Conspiracy, and I durst never let a woman ken 
 of the entrance to it, or your honor will allow tl>at it wad not 
 hae been a secret chaumer lang/' 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 
 The hearth in hall was black and dead, 
 No board was dight in bower within, 
 
 Nor merry bowl nor welcome bed ; 
 
 " Here's sorry cheer," quoth the Heir of Linne. 
 
 Old Ballad. 
 
 The feelings of the prodigal Heir of Linne, as expressed in 
 that excellent old song, when, after dissipating his whole for- 
 tune, he found himself the deserted inhabitant of "the lonely 
 lodge,'' might perhaps have some resemblance to those of the 
 Master of Eavenswood in his deserted mansion of Wolf's Crag. 
 The Master, however, had this advantage over the spendthrift 
 in the legend, that, if he was in similar distress, he could not 
 impute it to his own imprudence. His misery had been be- 
 queathed to him by his father, and, joined to his high blood, 
 and to a title which the courteous might give or the churlish 
 withhold at their pleasure, it was the whole inheritance he 
 had derived from his ancestry. 
 
 Perhaps this melancholy yet consolatory reflection crossed 
 the mind of the nnfortunate young nobleman with a breath- 
 ing of comfort. Favorable to calm reflection, as well as to 
 the Mnses, the morning, while it dispelled the shades of night, 
 had a composing and sedative effect upon the stormy passions 
 by wliich the Master of Eavenswood had been agitated on the 
 l^receding day. He now felt liimself able to analyze the dif- 
 ferent feelings by which he was agitated, and much resolved 
 to combat and to subdue them. The morning, which had arisen 
 3alm and briglit, gave a pleasant effect even to the waste 
 moorland view which was seen from the castle on looking to 
 the landward ; and the glorious ocean, crisped with a thou- 
 sand rippling waves of silver, extended on the other side, in 
 awful yet complacent majesty, to the verge of the horizon. 
 With such scenes of calm sublimity the human heart sympa- 
 thizes even in its most disturl)ed moods, and deeds of honor 
 and virtue are inspired by tlieir majestic influence. 
 
 To seek out Bucklaw in the retreat which he had afforded 
 him was the first occupation of the Master, after he had per- 
 formed, with a scrutiny unusually severe, the important task 
 
74 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 of self-examination. " How now, Bucklaw ? " was his morn- 
 ing's salutation — "how like you the couch in which the 
 exiled Earl of Angus once slept in security, when he was 
 pursued by the full energy of a king's resentment ? " 
 
 " Umph I " returned the sleeper awakened ; '^ I have little 
 to complain of where so great a man was quartered before 
 me, only the mattress was of the hardest, the vault somewhat 
 damp, the rats rather more mutinous than I would have ex- 
 pected from the state of Caleb's larder ; and if there had 
 been shutters to that grated window, or a curtain to the bed) 
 I should think it, upon the whole, an improvement in your 
 accommodations. " 
 
 " It is, to be sure, forlorn enough," said the Master, look- 
 ing around the small vault; " but if you will rise and leave 
 it, Caleb will endeavor to find you a better breakfast than 
 your supper of last night." 
 
 '' Pray, let it be no better," said Bucklaw, getting up, and 
 endeavoring to dress himself as well as the obscurity of the 
 place would permit — '' let it, I say, be no better, if you mean 
 me to persevere in my proposed reformation. The very rec- 
 ollection of Caleb's beverage has done more to suppress my 
 longing to open the day with a morning draught than twenty 
 sermons would liave done. And you. Master, have you been 
 able to give battle valiantly to your bosom-snake ? You see 
 I am in the way of smothering my vipers one by one." 
 
 '^ I have commenced the battle, at least, Bucklaw, and I 
 have had a fair vision of an angel who descended to my assist- 
 ance," replied the Master. 
 
 '•'Woe's me!" said his guest, ''no vision can I expect, 
 unless my aunt. Lady Grirnington, should betake herself to 
 the tomb ; and tlieu it would be the substance of her heritage 
 rather than the appearance of her phantom that I should 
 consider as the support of my good resolutions. But this 
 same breakfast. Master — does the deer that is to make the 
 pasty run yet on foot, as the ballad has it ?" 
 
 " I will inquire into that matter," said his entertainer; 
 and, leaving the apartment, he went in search of Caleb, 
 whom, after soma difficulty, he found in an obscure sort of 
 dungeon, which had been in former times the buttery of the 
 castle. Here the old man was employed busily in the doubt- 
 ful task of burnishing a pewter flagon until it should take 
 the hue and semblance of silver-plate. " I think it may do — 
 I think it might pass, if they winna bring it ower muckle in 
 the light o' the window ! " were the ejaculations which he 
 muttered from time to time, as if to encourage himself in hist 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR 75 
 
 undertaking, when he was interrupted by the voice of hia 
 master. 
 
 "Take this," said the Master of Ravenswood, "and get 
 what is necessary for the family." And with these words he 
 gave to the old butler the purse which had on the preceding 
 evening so narrowly escaped the fangs of Craigengelt. 
 
 The old man shook his silvery and thin locks, and looked 
 with an expression of the most heartfelt anguish at his master 
 as he weighed in his hand the slender treasure, and said in 
 a sorrowful voice, "And is this a' that's left ?" 
 
 " All that is left at present," said the Master, affecting 
 more cheerfulness than perhaps he really felt, " is just the 
 green purse and the wee pickle gowd, as the old song says ; 
 but we shall do better one day, Caleb." 
 
 " Before that day comes," said Caleb, " I doubt there 
 will be an end of an auld sang, and an auld serving-man to 
 boot. But it disna become me to speak that gate to your 
 honor, and you looking sae pale. Tak back the purse, and 
 keep it to be making a show before company ; for if your 
 honor would just tak a bidding, and be whiles taking it out 
 afore folk and putting it up again, there's naebody would re- 
 fuse us trust, for a' that's come and gane jet." 
 
 " But, Caleb," said the Master, " I still intend to leave 
 this country very soon, and desire to do so with the reputa- 
 tion of an honest man, leaving no debt behind me, at least 
 of my own contracting." 
 
 "And gude right ye suld gang away as a true man, and 
 so ye shall ; for auld Caleb can tak the wyte of whatever is 
 taen on for the house, and then it will be a' Just ae man's 
 burden ; and I will live just as weel in the tolbooth as out of 
 it, and the credit of the family will be a' safe and sound." 
 
 The Master endeavored, in vain, to make Caleb compre- 
 hend that the butler's incurring the responsibility of debts in 
 his own person would rather add to than remove the objec- 
 tions which he liad to their being contracted. He spoke to a 
 premier too busy in devising ways and means to puzzle him- 
 self with refuting the arguments offered against their justice 
 or expediency. 
 
 "There's"^ Eppie Sma'trash will trust us for ale," said 
 Caleb to himself — " she has lived a' her life under the family 
 — and maybe wi' a soup brandy ; I canna say for wine — she 
 is but a lone woman, and gets her claret by a runlet at a time ; 
 but I'll work a wee drapout o' her by fair means or foul. 
 For doos, there's the doocot ; there will be poultry amang the 
 tenants, though Luckie Chirnside says she has paid the kain 
 
76 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 twice ower. We'll raak shift, an it like your honor — we^l 
 mak shift ; keep your heart abune, for the house sail haud its 
 credit as lang as auld Caleb is to the fore.'"' 
 
 The entertainment which the old man's exertions of vari- 
 ous kinds enabled him to present to the young gentlemen 
 for three or four da3^s was certainly of no splendid descrip- 
 tion, but it may readily be believed it was set before no 
 critical guests ; and even the distresses, excuses, evasions, and 
 shifts of Caleb afforded amusement to the young men, and 
 added a sort of interest to the scrambling and irregular style 
 of their table. They had indeed occasion to seize on every 
 circumstance that might serve to diversify or enliven time, 
 which otherwise passed away so heavily. 
 
 Bucklaw, shut out from his usual field-sports and joyous 
 carouses by the necessity of remaining concealed within the 
 walls of the castle, became a joyless and uninteresting com- 
 panion. When the Master of Ravenswood would no longer 
 fence or play at shovel-board ; when he himself had polished 
 to the extremity the coat of his joalfrey with brush, curry- 
 comb, and hair- cloth ; when he had seen him eat his prov- 
 ender, and gently lie down in his stall, he could hardly help 
 envying the animal's apparent acquiescence in a life so mo- 
 notonous. "The stupid brute," he said, "thinks neither of 
 the race-ground or the hunting-field, or his green paddock at 
 Bucklaw, but enjoys himself as comfortably when haltered 
 to the rack in this ruinous vault, as if he had been foaled in 
 it ; and I, who have the freedom of a prisoner at large, to 
 range through the dungeons of this wretched old tower, can 
 hardly, betwixt whistling and sleeping, contrive to pass away 
 the hour till dinner-time." 
 
 And with this disconsolate reflection, he wended his way 
 to the bartizan or battlements of the tower, to watch what 
 objects might appear on the distant moor, or to pelt, with 
 pebbles and pieces of lime, the sea-mews and cormorants 
 which estal^lished themselves incautiously within the reach 
 of an idle young man. 
 
 Ravenswo(3d, with a mind incalculably deeper and more 
 powerful than that of liis companion, had his own anxious 
 subjects of reflection, which wrought for him the same un- 
 happiness that sheer e:;^/^?^^ and want of occupation inflicted 
 on his companion. The first sight of Lucy Asliton had been 
 less impressive than her image proved to be upon reflection. 
 As the depth and violence of that revengeful passion by 
 which he had been actuated in seeking an interview with the 
 father began to abate by degrees, he looked back on his 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOxv 71 
 
 conduct towards the daugliter as harsh and unworthy towards 
 a female of rank and bean ty . Her looks of grateful acknowledg- 
 ment, her words of affectionate courtesy, had been repelled 
 with something which approached to disdain ; and if the Mas- 
 ter of Ravenswood had sustained wrongs at the hand of Sir 
 William Ashton, his conscience told him they had been un- 
 handsomely resented towards his daughter. When his 
 tlioughts took this turn of self-reproach, the recollection of 
 Lucy x\shton's beautiful features, rendered yet more interest- 
 ing by the circumstances in which their meeting had taken 
 place, made an impression upon his mind at once soothing 
 and painful. The sweetness of her voice, the delicacy of her 
 expressions, the vivid glow of her filial affection, embittered 
 his regret at having repulsed her gratitude with rudeness, 
 while, at the same time, they placed before his imagination 
 a picture of the most seducing sweetness. 
 
 Even young Ravens wood's strength of moral feeling and 
 rectitude of purpose at once increased the danger of cherish- 
 ing these recollections, and the propensity to entertain them. 
 Firmly resolved as he was to subdue, if possible, the predom- 
 inating vice in his character, he admitted with willingness — 
 nay, he summoned up in his imagination — the ideas by which 
 it could be most powerfully counteracted ; and, while he did 
 so, a sense of his own harsli conduct towards the daughter of 
 his enemy naturally induced him, as if by way of recompense, 
 to invest her with more of grace and beauty than perhaps she 
 could actually claim. 
 
 Had any one at this period told the Master of Ravenswood 
 that he had so lately vowed vengeance against the whole lin- 
 eage of him whom he considered, not unjustly, as author of 
 his father's ruin and death, he might at first have repelled the 
 charge as a foul calumny ; yet, upon serious self-examination, 
 he would have been compelled to admit that it had, at one 
 period, some foundation in truth, though, according to the 
 present tone of his sentiments, it was difficult to believe that 
 this had really been the case. 
 
 There already existed in his bosom two contradictory pas- 
 sions — a desire to revenge the death of his father, strangely 
 qualified by admiration of his enemy's daughter. Against the 
 former feeling he had struggled, until it seemed to him upon 
 the wane ; against the latter he used no means of resistance, 
 for he did not suspect its existence. That this was actually 
 the case was chiefly evinced by his resuming his resolution to 
 leave Scotland. Yet, though such was his purpose, he re- 
 .mainyd day after day at Wolf's Crag, without taking measures 
 
78 WAVEBLEV NOVELS 
 
 for carrying it into execution. It is true, that he had written 
 to one or two kinsmen who resided in a distant quarter of 
 Scotland, and particularly to the Marquis of A , intimat- 
 ing his purpose ; and when pressed upon the subject by Buck- 
 law, he was wont to allege the necessity of waiting for their 
 reply, especially that of the Marquis, before taking so decisive 
 a measure. 
 
 The Marquis was rich and powerful ; and although he was 
 suspected to entertain sentiments unfavorable to the govern- 
 • ment established at the Eevolution, he had nevertheless address 
 enough to head a party in the Scottish privy council, con- 
 nected with the High Church faction in England, and power- 
 ful enough to jnenace those to whom the Lord Keeper adhered 
 with a probable subversion of their power. The consulting 
 with a personage of such importance was a plausible excuse, 
 which Ravenswood used to Bucklaw, and probably to himself, 
 for continuing his residence at Wolffs Crag ; and it was ren- 
 dered yet more so by a general report which began to be cur- 
 rent of a probable change of ministers and measures in the 
 Scottish administration. These rumors, strongly asserted by 
 some, and as resolutely denied by others, as their wishes or 
 interest dictated, found their way even to the ruinous Tower 
 of Wolf's Crag, chiefly through the medium of Caleb, the but- 
 ler, who, among his other excellences, was an ardent politi- 
 cian, and seldom made an excursion from the old fortress to 
 the neighboring village of Wolf's Hope without bringing 
 back what tidings were current in the vicinity. 
 
 But if Bucklaw could not oifer any satisfactory objections 
 to the delay of the Master in leaving Scotland, he did not the 
 less suffer with impatience the state of inaction to which it 
 confined him ; and it was only the ascendency which his new 
 companion had acquired over him that induced him to sub- 
 mit to a course of life so alien to his habits and inclinations. 
 
 " You were wont to be thought a stirring active young 
 fellow, Master," was his frequent remonstrance ; " yet here 
 you seem determined to live on and on like a rat in a hole, with 
 this trifling difference, that the wiser vermin chooses a her- 
 mitage where he can find food at least ; but as for us, Caleb's 
 excuses become longer as his diet turns more spare, and I fear 
 we shall realize the stories they tell of the sloth : we have al- 
 most eat up the last green leaf on the plant, and have noth- 
 ing left for it but to drop from the tree and break our necks." 
 
 "Do not fear it," said Ravenswood; "there is a fate 
 watches for us, and we too have a stake in the revolution that 
 IS now impending, and which already has alarmed many a 
 bosom.'' 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR 79 
 
 " What fate — what revolution ?^' inquired his companion. 
 ^' We have had one revolution too much already, I thmk." 
 
 Ravenswood interrupted him by putting into his hands a 
 letter. 
 
 '' 0," answered Bucklaw, " my dream's out. I thought I 
 heard Caleb this morning pressing some unfortunate fellow 
 to a drink of cold water, and assuring him it was better for 
 his stomach in the morning than ale or brandy." 
 
 "It was my Lord of A 's courier," said Ravenswood, 
 
 " who was doomed to experience his ostentatious hospitality, 
 which I believe ended in sour beer and herrings. Read, and 
 you will see the news he has brought us." 
 
 " I will as fast as I can," said Bucklaw ; "but I am no 
 great clerk, nor does his lordsliip seem to be the first of 
 scribes." 
 
 The reader will peruse, in a few seconds, by the aid of our 
 friend Ballantyne's * types, what took Bucklaw a good half 
 hour in perusal, though assisted by the Master of Ravenswood. 
 The tenor was as follows : 
 
 "Right Honorable our Cousin, 
 
 " Our hearty commendations premised, these come to 
 assure you of the interest which we take in your welfare, and 
 in your purposes towards its augmentation. If we have been 
 less active in showing forth our effective good-will towards 
 you than, as a loving kinsman and blood-relative, we would 
 willingly have desired, we request that you will impute it to 
 lack of opportunity to show our good-liking, not to any cold- 
 ness of our will. Touching your resolution to travel in for- 
 eign parts, as at this time we hold the same little advisable, in 
 respect that your ill-willers may, according to the custom of 
 such persons, impute motives for your Journey, whereof, al- 
 though we know and believe you to be as clear as ourselves, yet 
 natheless their words may find credence in places where the 
 belief in them may much prejudice you, and which we should 
 see with more unwillingness and displeasure than with means 
 of remedy. 
 
 "Having thus, as becometh our kindred, given you our 
 poor mind on the subject of your journeying forth of Scot- 
 land, we would willingly add reasons of weight, which might 
 materially advantage you and your father's house, thereby to 
 determine you to abide at Wolf's Crag, until this harvest sea- 
 son shall be passed over. But what sayeth the proverb, ver- 
 hum sapienti — a word is more to him that hath wisdom than 
 a sermon to a fool. And albeit we have written this poor 
 
80 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 scroll with our own hand, and are well assured of the fidelity 
 of our messenger, as him that is many ways bounden to us, 
 yet so it is, that sliddery ways crave wary walking, and that 
 we may not peril upon paper matters which we would gladly 
 impart to you by word of mouth. Wherefore, it was our 
 purpose to have prayed you heartily to come to this our bar- 
 ren Highland country to kill a stag, and to treat of the matters 
 which we are now more painfully inditing to you anent. 
 But commodity does not serve at present for such our meet- 
 ing, which, therefore, shall be deferred until sic time as we 
 may in all mirth rehearse those things M^hereof we now keep 
 silence. Meantime, we pray you to think that we are, and 
 will still be, your good kinsman and well-wisher, waiting but 
 "tor times of whilk we do, as it were, entertain a twilight 
 prospect, and appear and hope to be also your effectual well- 
 loer. And in which hope we heartily write ourself, 
 " Right Honorable, 
 
 " Your loving cousin, 
 
 "A . 
 
 ''Given from our poor house of B ," etc. 
 
 Superscribed — ''For the right honorable, and our honored 
 kinsman, the Master of Ravenswood — These, with haste, 
 tiaste, post haste — ride and run until these be delivered." 
 
 "What think you of this epistle, Bucklaw ?" said the 
 Master, when his companion had hammered out all the sense, 
 and almost all the words of which it consisted. 
 
 "Truly, that the Marquis's meaning is as great a riddle as 
 Ms manuscript. He is really in much need of Wit's Inter- 
 'preter, or the Complete Letter- Writer, and were I you, I would 
 send him a copy by the bearer. He writes you very kindly to 
 remain wasting your time and your money in this vile, stupid, 
 oppressed country, without so much as offering you the coun- 
 tenance and shelter of his house. In my opinion, he has some 
 scheme in view in which he supposes you can be useful, and 
 he wishes to keep you at hand, to make use of you when it 
 ripens, reserving the power of turning you adrift, should his 
 plot fail in the concoction." 
 
 " His plot ! Then you suppose it is a treasonable busi- 
 ness," answered Ravenswood. 
 
 " What else can it be ? " replied Bucklaw ; " the Marquis 
 has been long suspected to have an eye to Saint Germains. ' 
 
 " He should not engage me rashly in such an adventure," 
 aaid Ravenswood ; ' ' when I recollect the times of the first and 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR SI 
 
 second Charles, and of the last James, truly I see little reason 
 that, as a man or a patriot, I should draw my sword for their 
 descendants." 
 
 " Humph ! " replied Bucklaw ; " so you have set yourself 
 down to mourn over the crop-eared dogs whom honest Claver'se 
 treated as they deserved ? '' 
 
 " They first gave the dogs an ill name, and then hanged 
 them," replied Ravenswood. "I hope to see the day wher 
 justice shall he open to Whig and Tory, and when these nick- 
 names shall only be used among coffee-house politicians, as> 
 'slut' and 'jade' are among apple-women, as cant terms* 
 of idle sjjite and rancor." 
 
 '' That will not be i)i our days. Master : the iron has entered 
 too deeply into our sides and our souls." 
 
 " It will be, however, one day," replied the Master ; " men 
 will not always start at these nicknames as at a trumpet- . 
 sound. As social life is better protected, its comforts wili 
 become too dear to be hazarded without some better reason 
 than speculative politics." 
 
 " It is fine talking," answered Bucklaw ; "but my heaii 
 is with the old song — 
 
 " ' To see good corn upon the rigs. 
 
 And a gallows built to hang the Whigs, 
 
 And the right restored where the right should be, 
 
 O, that is the thing that would wanton me.' " 
 
 " You may sing as loudly as you will, cantahit vacuus — -,* 
 answered the Master; "but I believe the Marquis is toe 
 wise, at least too wary, to join you in such a burden. I sus- 
 pect he alludes to a revolution in the Scottish privy council. 
 rather than in the British kingdoms." 
 
 " 0, confusion to your state tricks ! " exclaimed Bucklaw — 
 "your cold calculating manoeuvres, which old gentlemen in 
 wrouglit nightcaps and furred gowns execute like so many 
 games at cliess, and displace a treasurer or lord commissioner 
 as they would take a rook or a pawn. Tennis for my sport, 
 and battle for my earnest ! My racket and my sword for my 
 playtliing and bread-winner ! And you. Master, so deep and 
 considerate as you would seem, you have that within you 
 makes the blood boil faster than suits your present humor of 
 jnoralizing on political truths. You are one of those wise 
 men who see everything with great composure till their blood 
 is up, and then — woe to any one who should put them in 
 mind of their own prudential maxims !" 
 
 " Perhaps," said Ravenswood, "you read me more rightlv 
 than I can myself. But to tiunk justly will certainly go some 
 
83 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 length in helping me to act so. But hark ! I hear Caleb 
 tolling the dinner-bell." 
 
 " Which he always does with the more sonorous grace in 
 proportion to the meagreness of the cheer which he has pro- 
 vided," said Bueklaw ; "as if that infernal clang and jangle, 
 which will one day bring the belfry down the cliif, could con- 
 vert a starved hen into a fat capon, and a blade-bone of mut- 
 ton into a hannch of venison." 
 
 "I wish we may be so well off as your Avorst conjectures 
 surmise, Bueklaw, from the extreme solemnity and ceremony 
 with which Caleb seems to place on the table that solitary 
 covered dish." 
 
 "Uncover, Caleb! uncover, for Heaven's sake!" said 
 Bueklaw ; " let us have what you can give us without preface. 
 Why, it stands Avell enough, man," he continued, addressing 
 impatiently the ancient butler, who, without reply, kept 
 shifting the dish, until he had at length placed it with math- 
 ematical precision in the very midst of the table. 
 
 "What have we got here, Caleb?" inquired the Master in 
 his turn. 
 
 " Ahem ! sir, ye suld have known before ; but his honor 
 the Laird of Bueklaw is so impatient," answered Caleb, still 
 holding the dish vvitli one hand and the cover with the other, 
 with evident reluctance to disclose the contents. 
 
 " But what is it, a God's name — not a pair of clean spurs, 
 I hope, in the Border fashion of old times ? " 
 
 " Ahem ! ahem ! " reiterated Caleb, "your honor is pleased 
 to be facetious ; natheless, I might presume to say it was a 
 convenient fashion, and used, as I have heard, in an honor- 
 able and thriving family. But touching your present dinner, 
 I judged that this being St. Magdalen's [Margaret's] Eve, 
 who was a worthy queen of Scotland in her day, your honors 
 might judge it decorous, if not altogether to fast, yet only 
 to sustain nature with some slight refection, as ane saulted 
 herring or the like." And, uncovering the dish, he displayed 
 four of the savory fishes which he mentioned, adding, in a 
 subdued tone, " that they were no just common herring 
 neither, being every ane melters, and sauted with uncom- 
 mon care by the housekeeper [poor Mysie] for his honor's 
 especial use." 
 
 "Out upon all apologies !" said the Master, " let us eat 
 the herrings, since there is nothing better to be had ; but I 
 begin to think with you, Bueklaw, that we are consuming 
 the last green leaf, and that, in spite of the Marquis's politi- 
 cal machinations, we must positively shift camp for want of. 
 forage, without waiting the issue of them." 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 
 Ay, and when huntsmen wind the merry horn, 
 
 And from its covert starts the fearful prey. 
 
 Who, warni'd with youth's blood in his swelling veina 
 
 Would, like a lifeless clod, outstretched lie, 
 
 Shut out from all the fair creation offers? 
 
 Ethwald, Act I., Scene 1, 
 
 Light meals procure light slumbers ; and therefore it ia 
 not surprising that, considering the fare which Caleb's con- 
 science, or his necessity, assuming, as will sometimes hap- 
 pen, that disguise, had assigned to the guests of Wolf's Crag, 
 their slumbers should have been short. 
 
 In the norning Bucklaw rushed into his host's apartment 
 with a loud halloo, which might have awaked the dead. 
 
 "Up! up I in tlie name of Heaven! The hunters are 
 out, the only piece of sport I have seen this month ; and you 
 lie here. Master, on a bed that has little to recommend it ex- 
 cept tliafc it may be something softer than the stone floor of 
 your ancestor's vault." 
 
 '•I wish," said Ravenswood, raising his head peevishly, 
 '\yi>a had forborne so early a jest, Mr. Hayston ; it is really 
 no pleasure to lose the very short repose which I had just be- 
 gun to enjoy, after a night spent in thoughts upon fortune 
 f.ir harder than my couch, Bucklaw." 
 
 "Pshaw, pshaw!" replied his guest; "get up — get up; 
 the hounds are abroad. I have saddled the horses myself, for 
 old Caleb was calling for grooms and lackeys, and would 
 never have proceeded without two hours' apology for the 
 absence of men that were a hundred miles off. Get up^- 
 Master ; I say the hounds are out — get up, I say ; the huni" 
 is up." And off ran Bucklaw. 
 
 "And I say," said the Master, rising slowly, '' that noth- 
 ing can concern me less. Whose hounds come so near to 
 us?" 
 
 " The Honorable Lord Bittlebrains's," answered Caleb, 
 who had followed the impatient Laird of Bucklaw into hi? 
 master's bedroom, " and truly I ken nae title they have to be 
 
84 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 yowling and howling within the freedoms and immtinities of 
 your lordsliip's right of free forestry." 
 
 "Nor I, Caleb," replied Eavenswood, "excepting that 
 they have bought both the lands and the right of forestry, 
 and may think themselves entitled to exercise the rights they 
 have paid their money for." 
 
 " It may be sae, my lord," replied Caleb ; "but it's no gen- 
 tleman's deed of them to come here and exercise such-like 
 right, and your lordship living at your ain castle of Wolf's 
 Crag. Lord Bittlebrains would do weel to remember what 
 his folk have been." 
 
 " And we what we now are," said the Master, with sup- 
 pressed bitterness of feeling. "But reach me my cloak, 
 Caleb, and I will indulge Bucklaw with a sight of this chase. 
 It is selfish to sacrifice my guest's pleasure to my own." 
 
 " Sacrifice !" echoed Caleb, in a tone which seemed to im- 
 ply the total absurdity of his master making the least conces- 
 sion in deference to any one — "sacrifice, indeed ! — but I crave 
 your honor's pardon, and whilk doublet is it your pleasure to 
 wear ? " 
 
 " Any one you will, Caleb ; ray wardrobe, I suppose, is 
 not very extensive." 
 
 " Not extensive ! " echoed his assistant ; "when there is the 
 gray and silver that your lordship bestowed on Hew Hilde- 
 brand, your outrider ; and the French velvet that went with 
 my lord your father — be gracious to him ! — my lord your 
 father's auld wardrobe to the puir friends of the family ; and 
 the drap-de-Ben'y " 
 
 "Which I gave to you, Caleb, and which, I suppose, is 
 the only dress we have any chance to come at, except that I 
 wore yesterday ; pray, hand me that, and say no more about 
 it." 
 
 "If your honor has a fancy," replied Caleb, "and doubt- 
 less it's a sad-colored suit, and you are in mourning ; never- 
 theless, I have never tried on the drap-de- Berry — ill wad it 
 become me — and your honor having no change of claiths at 
 this present — and it's weel brushed, and as there are leddies 
 down yonder " 
 
 "Ladies!" said Eavenswood; "and what ladies, pray?" 
 
 "What do I ken, your lordship ? Looking down at them 
 from the Warden's Tower, I could but see them glent by wi' 
 their bridles ringing and their feathers fluttering, like the court 
 of Elfland." 
 
 "Well, well, Caleb," replied the Master, "help me on 
 with my cloak, and hand me my sword-belt. What clatter is 
 that in the courtyard f 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR 85 
 
 '* Just Bucklaw bringing out the horses," said Caleb, after 
 a glance through the window, '*'as if there werena men 
 eneugh in the castle, or as if I couldna serve the turn of ony 
 o' them that are out o' the gate." 
 
 "Alas ! Caleb, we should want little if your ability were 
 equal to your will,"' replied his master, 
 
 '^And I hope your lordship disna want that miickle,'* 
 said Caleb; "for, considering a' things, I trust we support 
 the credit of the family as weel as things will permit of, — only 
 Bucklaw is aye sae frank and sae forward. And there he has 
 brought out your lordship's palfrey, without the saddle being 
 decored wi' the broidered sumpter-cloth ! and I could have 
 brushed it in a minute. "" 
 
 ''It is all very well," said his master, escaping from him 
 and descending the narrow and steep winding staircase which 
 led to the courtyard. 
 
 " It may be a' very weel," said Caleb, somewhat peevishly ; 
 ''but if your lordship wad tarry a bit, I will tell you what will 
 not be very w^eel." 
 
 "And what is that ?" said Kavenswood, impatiently, but 
 stopping at the same time. 
 
 "Why, just that ye suld speer ony gentleman hame to 
 dinner ; for I canna mak anither fast on a feast day, as when 
 I cam ower Bucklaw wi' Queen Margaret ; and, to speak 
 truth, if your lordship wad but please to cast yoursell in the 
 way of dining wi' Lord Bittlebrains, I'se warrand I wad cast 
 about brawly for the morn ; or if, stead o' that, ye wad but 
 dine wi' them at the change-house, ye might mak your shift 
 for the lawing : ye might say ye had forgot your purse, or 
 that the carline awed ye rent, and that ye wad allow it in the 
 settlement." 
 
 " Or any otlier lie that came uppermost, I suppose ?" said 
 his master. " Good-by, Caleb ; I commend your care for 
 the honor of the family." And, throwing himself on his 
 horse, he followed Bucklaw, who, at the manifest risk of his 
 neck, had begun to gallop down the steep path which led 
 from the Tower as soon as he saw Kavenswood have his foot 
 in the stirrup. 
 
 Caleb Balderstone looked anxiously after them, and shook 
 his thin gray locks — " And I trust they will come to no evil ; 
 but they have reached the plain, and folk cannot say but that 
 the horse are hearty and in spirits." 
 
 Animated by the natural impetuosity and fire of his tem- 
 per, young Bucklaw rushed on with the careless speed of a 
 whirlwind. Raveuswood was scarce more moderate in his 
 
86 WA VERLEY NOVELS 
 
 pace, for his was a mind unwillingly roused from contempla- 
 tive inactivity, but which, when once put into motion, 
 acquired a spirit of forcible and violent progression. Neither 
 was his eagei'ness proportioned in all cases to the motive of 
 impulse, but might be compared to the speed of a stone, 
 which rushes with like fury down the hill whether it was first 
 put in motion by the arm of a giant or the hand of a boy. 
 He felt, therefore, in no ordinary degree, the headlong im- 
 pulse of the chase, a pastime so natural to youth of all ranks, 
 that it seems rather to be an inherent passion in our animal 
 nature, whicli levels all differences of rank and education, 
 than an acquired habit of rapid exercise. 
 
 The repeated bursts of the French horn, which was then 
 always used for the encouragement and direction of the 
 hounds ; the deep, though distant baying of the pack ; the 
 half-heard cries of the huntsmen ; the half-seen forms which 
 were discovered, now emerging from glens which crossed the 
 moor, now sweeping over its surface, now picking their way 
 where it was impeded by morasses ; and, above all, the feel- 
 ing of his own rapid motion, animated the Master of Ravens- 
 wood, at least for the moment, above the recollections of a 
 more painful nature by which he was surrounded. The first 
 thing which recalled him to those unpleasing circumstances 
 was feeling that his horse, notwithstanding all the advantages 
 which he received from his rider's knowledge of the country, 
 was unable to keep up with the chase. As he drew his bridle 
 up with the bitter feeling that his poverty excluded him from 
 the favorite recreation of his forefathers, and indeed their 
 sole employment when not engaged in military pursuits, he 
 was accosted by a well-mounted stranger, who, unobserved, 
 had kept near him during the earlier part of his career. 
 
 " Your horse is blown," said the man, with a complai- 
 sance seldom used in a hunting-field. "Might I crave your 
 honor to make use of mine ? " 
 
 " Sir," said Eavenswood, more surprised than pleased at 
 such a proposal, "I really do not know how I have merited 
 such a favor at a stranger's hands." 
 
 " Never ask a question about it. Master," said Bucklaw, 
 who, with great unwillingness, had hitherto reined in his own 
 gallant steed, not to outride his host and entertainer. " Take 
 the goods the gods provide you, as the great John Dryden 
 says ; or stay — here, my friend, lend me that horse ; I see 
 you have been puzzled to rein him up this half-hour. I'll 
 take the devil out of him for you. Now, Master, do you ride 
 mine, which will carry you like an eagle." 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR 87 
 
 And throwing the rein of his own horse to the Master of 
 Ravenswood, he sprang upon that which the stranger resigned 
 to him, and continued his career at full speed. 
 
 "Was ever so thoughtless a being!" said the Master; 
 " and you, my friend, how could you trust him with your 
 horse ? " 
 
 " The horse/' said the man, " belongs to a person who 
 will make your honor, or any of your honorable friends, most 
 welcome to him, flesh and fell." 
 
 '' And the owner's name is ? " asked Ravenswood. 
 
 " Your honor must excuse me, you will learn that from 
 himself. If you please to take your friend's horse, and leave 
 me your galloway, I will meet you after the fall of the stag, 
 for I hear they are blowing him at bay." 
 
 " I believe, my friend, it will be the best way to recover 
 your good hor^ie for you," answered Ravenswood ; and mount- 
 ing the nag of his friend Bucklaw, he made all the haste in 
 his power to the spot where the blast of the horn announced 
 that the stag's career was nearly terminated. 
 
 These jovial sounds were intermixed with the huntsmen's 
 shouts of '' Hyke a Talbot ! Hyke a Teviot ! now, boys, 
 now ! " and similar cheering halloos of the olden hunting- 
 field, to which the impatient yelling of the hounds, now close 
 on the object of their pursuit, gave a lively and unremitting 
 chorus. The straggling riders began now to rally towards the 
 scene of action, collecting from different points as to a com- 
 mon centre. 
 
 Bucklaw kept the start which he had gotten, and arrived 
 first at the spot, where the stag, incapable of sustaining a 
 more prolonged fiight, had turned upon the hounds, and, in 
 the hunter's phrase, was at bay. With his stately head bent 
 down, his sides white with foam, his eyes strained betwixt 
 rage and terror, the hunted animal had now in his turn be- 
 come an object of intimidation to his pursuers. The hunters 
 came up one by one, and watched an opportunity to assail 
 him with some advantage, which, in such circumstances, can 
 only be done with caution. The dogs stood aloof and bayed 
 loudly, intimating at once eagerness and fear, and each of 
 the sportsmen seemed to expect that his comrade would take 
 upon him the perilous task of assaulting and disabling the 
 animal. The ground, which was a hollow in the common or 
 moor, afforded little advantage for approaching the stag un- 
 observed ; and general was the shout of triumph when Buck- 
 law, with the dexterity proper to an accomplished cavalier of 
 the day, sprang from his horse, and dashing suddenly and 
 
88 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 swiftly at the stag, brought him to the ground by a cut on 
 the hind leg with his short hunting-sword. The pack, rush- 
 ing in upon their disabled enemy, soon ended his painful 
 struggles, and solemnized his fall with their clamor ; the 
 hunters, with their horns and voices, whooping and blowing 
 a mort, or death-note, which resounded far over the billows 
 of the adjacent ocean. 
 
 The huntsman then withdrew the hounds from the throt- 
 tled stag, and on his knee presented his knife to a fair female 
 form, on a white palfrey, whose terror, or perhaps her com- 
 passion, had till then kept her at some distance. She wore a 
 black silk riding-mask, which was then a common fashion, as 
 well for preserving the complexion from sun and rain, as from 
 an idea of decorum, which did not permit a lady to appear 
 barefaced while engaged in a boisterous sport, and attended 
 by a promiscuous company. The richness of her dress, how- 
 ever, as Avell as the mettle and form of her palfrey, together 
 with the sylvan compliment paid to her by the huntsman, 
 jiointed her out to Bucklaw as the principal person in the 
 field. It was not without a feeling of pity, approaching even 
 to contempt, that this enthusiastic hunter observed her refuse 
 the huntsman's knife, presented to her for the purpose of 
 making the first incision in the stag's breast, and thereby dis- 
 covering the quality of the venison. He felt more than half 
 inclined to pay his compliments to her ; but it had been 
 Bucklaw's misfortune, that his habits of life had not rendered 
 him familiarly acquainted with the higher and better classes 
 of female society, so that, with all his natural audacity, he 
 felt sheepish and bashful when it became necessary to address 
 a lady of distinction. 
 
 Taking unto himself heart of grace (to use his own phrase), 
 he did at length summon up resolution enough to give the 
 fair huntress good time of the day, and trust that her sport 
 had answered her expectation. Her answer was very courte- 
 ously and modestly expressed, and testified some gratitude to 
 the gallant cavalier, whose exploit had terminated the chase 
 so adroitly, when the hounds and huntsmen seemed somewhat 
 at a stand. 
 
 " Uds daggers and scabbard, madam," said Bucklaw, 
 rhom this observation brought at once upon his own ground, 
 '■* there is no difficulty or merit in that matter at all, so that 
 a fellow is not too much afraid of having a pair of antlers in 
 his guts. I have hunted at force five hundred times, madam ; 
 and I never yet saw the stag at bay, by land or water, but 
 I durst have gone roundly in on him. It is all use and wont. 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR 89 
 
 madam ; and I'll tell you, madam, for all that, it must be 
 done with good heed and caution ; and you will do well, 
 madam, to have your hunting-sword both right sharp and 
 double-edged, that you may strike either fore-handed or 
 back-handed, as you see reason, for a hurt with a buck's horn 
 is a perilous and somewhat venomous matter." 
 
 "I am afraid, sir," said the young lady, and her smile was 
 scarce concealed by her vizard, " I shall have little use for 
 such careful preparation." 
 
 " But the gentleman says very right for all that, my lady,'* 
 said an old huntsman, wlio had listened toBucklaw's harangue 
 with no small editicatiou ; "and I have heard my father say, 
 who was a forester at the Cabracli, that a wild boar's gaunch. 
 is more easily healed than a hurt f I'om the deer's horn, for so 
 says the old woodman's rhyme — 
 
 " ' If thou be hurt with horn of hart, it bi'ings thee to thy bier ; 
 But tusk of boar siiall leeches heal, thereof have le-s^er fear.' ' 
 
 "An I might advise," continued Buckiaw, who was now 
 in his element, and desirous of assuming the whole manage- 
 ment, "as the hounds are surbated and weary, the head of 
 the stag should be cabaged in order to revvard them ; and if 
 I may presume to speak, the huntsman, who is to break up 
 the stag, ought to drink to your good ladyship's health a good 
 lusty bicker of ale, or a tass of brandy ; for if he breaks him 
 up without drinking, the venison will not keep well." 
 
 This very agreeable j)rescription received, as will be readily 
 believed, all acceptation from the huntsman, who, in requital, 
 olfered to Buckiaw the compliment of his knife, which the 
 young lady had declined. 
 
 This polite proffer was seconded by his mistress. "I be- 
 lieve, sir," she said, withdrawing herself from the circle, 
 "that my father, for whose amusement Lord Bittlebrains's 
 hounds have been out to-day, will readily surrender all care 
 of these matters to a gentleman of your experience." 
 
 Then, bending gracefully from her horse, she wished him 
 good-morning, and, attended by one or two domestics, who 
 seemed immediately attached to her service, retired from the 
 scene of action, to which Buckiaw, too much delighted with 
 an opportunity of displaying his woodcraft to care about man 
 or woman either, paid little attention ; but was soon stripped 
 to his doublet, with tucked-up sleeves, and naked arms up to 
 tiie elbows in blood and grease, slashing, cutting, hacking, 
 and hewing, with the precision of Sir Tristrem himself, and 
 wrangling and disputing with all around him concerning 
 
90 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 nombles, briskets, flankards, and raven-bones, then usnal 
 terms of the art of hunting, or of butcliery, whichever the 
 reader chooses to call it, which are now probably antiquated. 
 
 When Ravenswood, who followed a short space behind his 
 friend, saw that the stag had fallen, his temporary ardor for 
 the chase gave way to that feeling of reluctance which he en- 
 dured at encountering in his fallen fortunes the gaze whether 
 of equals or inferiors. He reined up his horse on the top of 
 a gentle eminence, from wdiich he observed the busy and gay 
 scene beneath him, and heard the Avhoops of the huntsmen, 
 gayly mingled with the cry of the dogs, and the neighing and 
 trampling of the horses. But these jovial sounds fell sadly 
 on the ear of the ruined nobleman. The chase, with all its 
 train of excitations, has ever since feudal times been accounted 
 the almost exclusive privilege of the aristocracy, and was 
 anciently their chief employment in times of peace. The 
 sense that he was excluded by his situation from enjoying 
 the sylvan sport, which his rank assigned to him as a special 
 prerogative, and the feeling that new men were now exercis- 
 ing it over the downs which had been jealously reserved by 
 his ancestors for their own amusement, while he, the heir of 
 the domain, was fain to hold himself at a distance from 
 their party, awakened reflections calculated to depress deeply 
 a mind like Ra,venswood's, which was naturally contemplative 
 and melancholy. His pride, however, soon shook off this 
 feeling of dejection, and it gave way to impatience upon 
 finding that his volatile friend Bucklaw seemed in no hurry 
 to return with his borrowed steed, which Eavenswood, before 
 leaving the field, wished to see restored to the obliging owner. 
 As he was about to move towards the group of assembled 
 huntsmen, he was joined by a horseman, who, like himself. 
 had kept aloof during the fall of the deer. 
 
 This personage seemed stricken in years. He wore a 
 scarlet cloak, buttoning high upon his face, and his hat was 
 uniooped and slouched, probably by way of defence against 
 the weather. His horse, a strong and steady palfrey, was 
 calculated for a rider who proposed to witness the sport of the 
 day rather than to share it. An attendant waited at some dis- 
 tance, and the whole equipment was that of an elderly gen- 
 tleman of rank and fashion. He accosted Ravenswood very 
 politely, but not without some embarrassment. 
 
 "You seem a gallant young gentleman, sir," he said, 
 " and yet appear as indifferent to this brave sport as if you 
 bad my load of years on your shoulders. '^ 
 
 ' ' I have followed the sport with more spirit on other 0000* 
 
THE BRIDE OF ^ AMMERMOOR 9i 
 
 sions/' replied the Master; "at present, late events in my 
 family must be my apology ; and besides," he added, " i was 
 but indilferently mounted at the beginning of the sport." 
 
 " I think," said the stranger, "one of my attendants had 
 the sense to accommodate your friend with a horse." 
 
 " I was much indebted to his politeness and yours," replied 
 Ravens wood. " My friend is Mr. Hayston of Bucklaw, whom 
 I dare say you will be sure to find in the thick of the keenest 
 sportsmen. Ho will return your servant^s horse, and take my 
 pony in exchange ; and will add," he concluded, turning his 
 horse's head from the stranger, "his best acknowledgments 
 to mine for the accommodation." 
 
 The Master of Ravenswood, having thus expressed him- 
 self, began to move homeward, with the manner of one who 
 has taken leave of his company. But the stranger was not 
 so to be shaken off. He turned his horse at the same time, 
 and rode in the same direction, so near to the Master that, 
 without outriding him, which the formal civility of the time, 
 and the respect due to the stranger's age and recent civility, 
 would have rendered improper, he could not easily escape 
 from his company. 
 
 The stranger did not long remain silent. " This, then," 
 he said, " is the ancient Castle of Wolf's Crag, often men- 
 tioned in the Scottish records," looking to the old tower, then 
 darkening under the influence of a stormy cloud, that formed 
 its background ; for at the distance of a short mile, the chase, 
 having been circuitous, had brought the hunters nearly back 
 to the point which they had attained when Ravenswood and 
 Bucklaw had set forward to join them. 
 
 Ravenswood answered this observation with a cold and dis- 
 tant assent. 
 
 "It was, as I have heard," continued the stranger, una- 
 bashed by his coldness, "' one of the most early possessions of 
 the honorable family of Ravenswood." 
 
 "Their earliest possession," answered the Master, "and 
 probably their latest." 
 
 "I — I — I should hope not, sir," answered the stranger, 
 clearing his voice with more than one cough, and making an 
 effort to overcome a certain degree of hesitation ; "Scotland 
 knows what she owes to this ancient family, and remembers 
 their frequent and honorable achievements. I have little 
 doubt that, were it properly represented to her Majesty that 
 so ancient and noble a family were subjected to dilapidation 
 — I mean to decay — means might be found, ad re-cBcIificandum 
 antiquam aomum " 
 
92 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 "1 will save you, the trouble, sir, of discussing this point 
 farther," interrupted the Master, haughtily. " I am the heir 
 of that unfortunate house — I am the Master of Ravenswood. 
 And you, sir, who seem to be a gentleman of fashion and 
 education, must be sensible that the next mortification after 
 being unhappy is the being loaded with undesired commiser- 
 ation." 
 
 "I beg your pardon, sir," said the elder horseman ; "1 
 did not know — I am sensible I ought not to have mentioned 
 — nothing could be farther from my thoughts than to sup- 
 pose " 
 
 ''There are no apologies necessary, sir," answered Ravens- 
 wood, ''for here, I suppose, our roads separate, and I assure 
 you that we part in perfect equanimity on my side." 
 
 As speaking these words, he directed his horse's head 
 towards a narrow causeway, the ancient approach to Wolf's 
 Crag, of which it might be truly said, in the words of the Bard 
 of Hope, that 
 
 Frequented by few was the grass-cover'd road, 
 "Where the hunter of deer and the warrior trode, 
 To his hills that encircle the sea. 
 
 But, ere he could disengage himself from his companion, the 
 young lady we have already mentioned came up to join the 
 stranger, followed by her servants. 
 
 "Daughter," said the stranger to the masked damsel, 
 "this is the Master of Ravenswood." 
 
 It would have been natural tliat the gentleman should 
 have replied to this introduction ; but there was something 
 in the graceful form and retiring modesty of the 
 female to whom he was thus presented, which not only pre- 
 vented him from inquiring to Avhom, and by whom, the an- 
 nunciation had been made, bnt which even for the time struck 
 him absolutely mute. At this moment the cloud which had 
 long lowered above the height on which Wolf's Craig is sit- 
 uated, and which now, as it advanced, spread itself in darker 
 and denser folds both overland and sea, hiding the distant ob- 
 jects and obscuring those which were nearer, turning the sea to 
 a leaden complexion and the heath to a darker brown, began 
 now, by one or two distant peals, to announce the thunders 
 with which it was fraught ; while two flashes of lightning, 
 following each other very closely, showed in the distance the 
 gray turrets of Wolf's Crag, and, more nearly, the rolling 
 billows of the ocean, crested suddenly with red and dazzling 
 light. 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR 98 
 
 The horse of the fair huntress showed symptoms of im- 
 patience and restiveness, and it became iin})ossible for Ravens- 
 wood, as a uian or a gentleman, to leave her abruptly to the 
 care of an aged father or her menial attendants. He was, or 
 believed himself, obliged in courtesy to take hold of her 
 bridle, and assist her in managing the unruly animal. While 
 he was thus engaged, the old gentleman observed that the 
 storm seemed to increase ; that they were far from Lord 
 Bittlebrains's, whose guests they were for the present ; and 
 that he would be obliged to the Master of Ilavenswood to 
 point him the way to the nearest place of refuge from the 
 storm. At the same time he cast a wistful and embarrassed 
 look towards the Tower of Wolf's Crag, which seemed to 
 render it almost impossible for tlie owner to avoid offering 
 an old man and a lady, in such an emergency, the temporary 
 use of his house. Indeed, the condition of the young hunt- 
 ress made this courtesy indispensable ; for, in the course of 
 the services which he rendered, he could not but perceive 
 that slie trembled much, and was extremely agitated, from 
 her apprehensions, doubtless, of the coming storm. 
 
 I know not if the Master of Ravenswood shared her ter- 
 rors, but he was not entirely free from something like a simi 
 lar disorder of nerves, as he observed, " The Tower of Wolf's 
 Crag has nothing to offer beyond the shelter of its roof, but 
 
 if that can be acceptable at such a moment " he paused, 
 
 as if the rest of the invitation stuck in his throat. But the 
 old gentleman, his self-constituted companion, did not allow 
 him to recede from the invitation which he had rather 
 suffered to be implied than directly expressed. 
 
 "'•' The storm," said the stranger, " must be an apology for 
 waiving ceremony ; his daughter's health was weak, she 
 had suffered much from a recent alarm ; he trusted their in- 
 trusion on the Master of Ravenswood's hospitality would not 
 be altogether unpardonable in the circumstances of the case : 
 his child's safety must be dearer to him than ceremony." 
 
 Tiiere was no room to retreat. The Master of Ravens- 
 wood led the way, continuing to keep hold of the lady's 
 bridle to prevent her horse from starting at some unexpected 
 explosion of thunder. He was not so bewildered in his own 
 hurried reflections but .that he remarked, that the deadly 
 paleness which had occupied her neck and temples, and such 
 of her features as the riding-mask left exposed, gave place to 
 a deep and rosy suffusion ; and he felt with embarrassment 
 that a flush was by tacit sympathy excited in his own cheeks. 
 The stranger, with watchfulness which he disguised under 
 
W WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 apprehensions for the safety of his daughter, continued tc 
 observe the expression of the Master's countenance as they 
 ascended the liill to Wolf's Crag. When they stood in front 
 of that ancient fortress,, Kavenswood's emotions were of a 
 very complicated description ; and as he led the way into the 
 rude courtyard, and hallooed to Caleb to give attendance, 
 there was a tone of sternness, almost of fierceness, which 
 seemed somewhat alien from the courtesies of one who ir 
 receiving honored guests. 
 
 Caleb came ; and not the paleness of the fair stranger at 
 the first approach of the thunder, nor the paleness of any 
 other person, in any other circumstances whatever, equalled 
 that which overcame the thin cheeks of the disconsolate sen- 
 eschal when he beheld this accession of guests to the castle, 
 and reflected that the dinner hour was fast approaching. 
 " Is he daft? "he muttered to himself — "is he clean daft 
 a'thegither, to bring lords and leddies, and a host of folk be- 
 hint them, and twal o'clock chappit?" Then approaching 
 the Master, he craved pardon for having permitted the rest 
 of his people to go out to see the hunt, observing, that 
 " They wad never think of his lordship coming back till mirk 
 night, and that he dreaded they might play the truant.'' 
 
 ''Silence, Balderstone !" said Ravenswood, sternly ; " your 
 folly is unseasonable. Sir and madam," he said, turning to 
 his guests, " this old man, and a yet older and more imbecile 
 female domestic, form my whole retinue. Our means of 
 refreshing you are more scanty than even so miserable a ret- 
 inue, and a dwelling so dilapidated, might seem to promise 
 you ; but, such as they may chance to be, you may command 
 them." 
 
 The elder stranger, struck with the ruined and even sav- 
 age appearance of the Tower, rendered still more disconsolate 
 by the lowering and gloomy sky, and perhaps not altogether 
 unmoved by the grave and determined voice in which their 
 host addressed them, looked round him anxiously, as if he 
 half repented the readiness with which he had accepted the 
 offered hospitality. But there was now no opportunity of 
 receding from the situation in which he had placed himself. 
 
 As for Caleb, he was so utterly stunned by his master's 
 public and unqualified acknowledgment of the nakedness of 
 the land, that for two minutes he could only mutter within 
 his hebdomadal beard, which had not felt the razor for six 
 days, " He's daft — clean daft — red wud, and aw a' wi't ! But 
 deil hae Caleb Balderstone," said he, collecting his powers of 
 invention and resource, " if the family shall lose credit, if he 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR 95 
 
 were as mad as the seven wise masters ! " He then boldly 
 advanced, and in spite of his master's frowns and impatience, 
 gravely asked, "If he should not serve up some slight refec- 
 tion for the young leddy, and a glass of tokay, or old sack — 
 or " 
 
 " Truce to this ill-timed foolery," said the Master, sternly ; 
 " put the horses into the stable, and interrupt us no more 
 with your absurdities." 
 
 " Your honor's pleasure is to be obeyed aboon a' things,^* 
 tiaid Caleb ; " nevertheless, as for the sack and tokay which 
 ".t is not your noble guests' pleasure to accept " 
 
 But here the voice of Bucklaw, heard even above the clat- 
 tering of hoofs and braying of horns with which it mingled. 
 Announced that he was scaling the pathway to the Tower at 
 *^he head of the greater part of the gallant hunting train. 
 
 "The deil be in me," said Caleb, taking heart in spite of 
 this new invasion of Philistines, "if they shall beat me yet ! 
 The hellicat ne'er-do-weel ! to bring such a crew here, that 
 will expect to find brandy as plenty as ditch-water, and he 
 kenning sae absolutely the case in whilk we stand for the 
 present ! But I trow, could I get rid of thae gaping gowks 
 of flunkies that hae won into the courtyard at the back of 
 their betters, as mony a man gets preferment, I could make 
 a' right yet." 
 
 The measures which he took to execute this dauntless res- 
 olution, the reader shall learn in the next chapter. 
 
CHAPTER X 
 
 With throat unslaked, with black lips baked, 
 
 Agape they heard him call ; 
 Gramercy they for joy did grin, 
 A.nd all at once their breath drew in. 
 
 As they had been drinking all ! 
 
 Coleridge's Rime of the Ancient Mariner, 
 
 Hatston of BiTcklaw was one of the thoughtless class who 
 never hesitate between their friend and their jest. When it 
 was announced that the principal persons of the chase had 
 taken their route to>vards Wolf's Crag, the huntsmen, as a 
 point of civility, oiferf^d to transfer the venison to that man- 
 sion ; a proifer which was readily accepted by Bucklaw, who 
 thought much of the astoaishment which their arrival in full 
 body would occasion poor old Caleb Balderstone, and very 
 little of the dilemma to wnich he was about to expose his 
 friend the Master, so ill circumstanced to receive such a 
 party. But in old Caleb he iiad to do with a crafty and 
 alert antagonist, prompt at supplying, upon all emergencies, 
 evasions and excuses suitable, as he thought, to the dignity 
 of the family. 
 
 '^ Praise be blest ! " said Caleb to oimself, " ae leaf of the 
 muckle gate has been swung to wi^ yestreen's wind, and 1 
 think I can manage to shut the ither.'* 
 
 But he was desirous, like a prudent governor, at the samt 
 time to get rid, if possible, of the internal, enemy, in which 
 light he considered almost every one who Q-ac and drank, ere 
 he took measures to exclude those whom their jocund noise 
 now pronounced to be near at hand. He waited, therefore, 
 with impatience until his master had shown his two principal 
 guests into the Tower, and then commenced his operations. 
 
 "I think," he said to the stranger menials, "that, as they 
 are bringing the stag's head to the castle in all honor, we, 
 who are indwellers, should receive them at the gate." 
 
 The unwary grooms had no sooner hurried out, in com- 
 pliance with this insidious hint, than, one folding-door of the 
 ancient gate being already closed by the wind, as has been 
 already intimated, honest Caleb lost no time in shutting the 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR 97 
 
 other with a clang, which resounded from donjon-vault to 
 hattlement. Having thus secured the pass, he forthwith in- 
 dulged tlie excluded huntsmen in brief parley, fronj a small 
 projecting window, or shot-hole, through which, in former 
 days, the warders were Avont to reconnoitre those who pre- 
 sented themselves before the gates. He gave them to under- 
 stand, in a short and pithy speech, that the gate of the castle 
 was never on any account opened during meal-times ; * that 
 his honor, the Master of Ravenswood, and some guests of 
 quality, had just sat down to dinner ; that there was excellent 
 brandy at the hostler-wife's at Wolf's Hope down below ; and 
 he held out some obscure hint that the reckoning would be 
 discharged by the Master ; but this was littered in a very 
 dubious and oracular strain, for, like Louis XI Y., Caleb 
 Balderstone hesitated to carry finesse so far as direct false- 
 hood, and was content to deceive, if possible, without directly 
 lying. 
 
 This annunciation was received with surprise by some, 
 with laughter by others, and with dismay by the expelled 
 lackeys, who endeavored to demonstrate that their right of 
 readmission, for the purpose of waiting upon their master and 
 mistress, was at least indisputable. But Caleb was not in a 
 huinor to understand or admit any distinctions. He stuck to 
 his original proposition with that dogged but convenient per- 
 tinacity which is armed against all conviction, and deaf to all 
 reasoning. Bucklaw now came from the rear of the party, 
 and demanded admittance in a very angry tone. But the 
 resolution of Caleb was immovable, 
 
 " If the king on the throne Avere at the gate," he declared, 
 ^'his ten fingers should never open it contrair to the estab- 
 lished use and wont of the family of Ravenswood, and his 
 duty as their head-servant," 
 
 Bucklaw was now extremely incensed, and with more oaths 
 and curses than we care to repeat, declared himself most un- 
 wortliily treated, and demanded peremptorily to speak with the 
 Master of Ravenswood himself. 
 
 But to this also Caleb turned a deaf ear, ''He's as soon 
 a-bleeze as a tap of tow, the lad Bucklaw," he said ; " but the 
 deil of ony master's face he shall see till he has sleepit and 
 wakened on't. He'll ken himsell better the morn's morning. 
 It sets the like o' him, to be bringing a crew of drunken 
 hunters here, when he kens there is but little preparation to 
 sloken his ain drought." And he disappeared from the win- 
 dow, leaving them all to digest their exclusion as they best 
 might. 
 
 * bee OUiMui cuuiti, !>»*'• ***** i»*«». 
 
98 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 But another person, of whose presence Caleb, in the ani- 
 mation of the debate, was not aware, had listened in silence 
 to its progress. This was the principal domestic of the 
 stranger — a man of trust and consequence — the same who, in 
 the hunting-field, had accommodated Eucklaw with the use 
 of his horse. He was in the stable when Caleb had contrived 
 the expulsion of his fellow-servants, and thus avoided sharing 
 the same fate, from which his personal importance would cer- 
 tainly not have otherwise saved him. 
 
 This personage perceived the manoeuvre of Caleb, easily 
 appreciated the motive of his conduct, and knowing his mas- 
 ter's intentions towards the family of Ravenswood, had no 
 difficulty as to the line of conduct he ought to adopt. He 
 took the place of Caleb (unperceived by the latter) at the post 
 of audience which he had just left, and announced to tlL> 
 assembled domestics, "That it was his master's pleasure that 
 Lord Bittlebrains's retinue and his own should go down to the 
 adjacent change-house and call for what refreshments they 
 might have occasion for, and he should take care to discharge 
 the lawing." 
 
 The jolly troop of huntsmen retired from the inhospitable 
 gate of Wolf's Crag, execrating, as they descended the steep 
 pathway, the niggard and unworthy disposition of the pro- 
 prietor, and damning, with more than sylvan license, both 
 the castle and its inhabitants. Bucklaw, with many qualities 
 which would have made him a man of worth and judgment in 
 more favorable circumstances, had been so utterly neglected 
 in point of education, that he was apt to think and feel ac- 
 cording to the ideas of the companions of his pleasures. The 
 praises which had recently been heaped upon himself he con- 
 trasted with the general abuse now levelled against Eavens- 
 wood ; he recalled to his mind the dull and monotonous days 
 he had spent in the Tower of "Wolf's Crag, compared with the 
 joviality of his usual life ; he felt with great indignation his 
 exclusion from the castle, which he considered as a gross affront, 
 and every mingled feeling led him to break off the union 
 •vhicli he had formed with the Master of Eavenswood, 
 
 On arriving at the change-house of the village of Wolf's 
 Hope, he unexpectedly met with an old acquaintance just 
 alighting from his horse. This was no other than the very 
 respectable Captain Craigengelt, who immediately came up to 
 him, and, without appearing to retain any recollection of the 
 indifferent terms on which they had parted, shook him by 
 the hand in the warmest manner possible. A warm grasp of 
 the hand was what Bucklaw could never help returning with 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR 99 
 
 cordiality, and no sooner had Craigengelt felt the pressure of 
 his fingers than he knew the terms on which he stood with 
 him. 
 
 "Long life to you, Bucklaw!"he exclaimed; ^'there's 
 life for honest folk in this bad world yet ! " 
 
 The Jacobites at this period, with what propriety I know 
 not, used, it must be noticed, the term of honest men as 
 peculiarly descriptive of their own party. 
 
 "Ay, and for others besides, it seems,'' answered Buck- 
 law; "otherways, how came you to venture hither, noble 
 Captain ? " 
 
 " Who — I ? I am as free as the wind at Martinmas, that 
 pays neither land-rent nor annual ; all is explained — all set- 
 tled with the honest old drivellers yonder of Auld R#ekie. 
 Pooh ! pooh ! they dared not keep me a week of days in du- 
 rance. A certain person has better friends among them than 
 you wot of, and can serve a friend when it is least likely." 
 
 "Pshaw!" answered Hayston, who perfectly knew and 
 thoroughly despised the character of this man, "none of your 
 cogging gibberish ; tell me truly, are you at liberty and in 
 safety ?" 
 
 " Free and safe as a Whig bailie on the causeway of his 
 OAvn borough, or a canting Presbyterian minister in his own 
 pulpit ; and I came to tell you that you need not remain in 
 hiding any longer." 
 
 "Then I suppose you call yourself my friend. Captain 
 Craigengelt ? " said Bucklaw. 
 
 "Friend!" replied Craigengelt, "my cock of the pit! 
 why, I am thy very Achates, man, as T have heard scholars 
 say — hand and glove — bark and tree — thine to life and 
 death!" 
 
 "I'll try that in a moment," answered Bucklaw. "Thou 
 art never without money, however thou comest by it. Lend 
 me two pieces to wash the dust out of these honest fellows' 
 
 throats in the first place, and then " 
 
 " Two pieces ! Twenty are at thy service, my lad, and 
 twenty to back them." 
 
 " Ay, say you so ? " said Bucklaw, pausing, for his 
 natural penetration led him to suspect some extraordinary 
 motive lay couched under such an excess of generosity. 
 " Craigengelt, you are either an lionest fellow in right good 
 earnest, and I scarce know how to believe that ; or you are 
 cleverer than I took you for, and I scarce know how to be- 
 lieve that either." 
 
 "L'nn n'empeche pas ravfrr/'sald Craigengelt. "Touch 
 and try ; the gold is good as ever was weighed." 
 
100 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 He put a quantity of gold pieces into Bucklaw's hand, 
 which he thrust into his pocket without either counting or 
 looking at them, only observing, ' ' That he was so circum- 
 stanced that he must enlist, though the devil offered the 
 press-money ; " and then turning to the huntsmen, he called 
 out, " Come along, my lads ; all is at my cost." 
 
 " Long life to Bucklaw !" shouted the men of the chase. 
 
 " And confusion to him that takes his share of the sport, 
 and leaves the hunters as dry as a drumhead," added another, 
 by way of corollary. 
 
 •^^The house of Eavenswood was ance a gude and an honor- 
 able house in this land," said an old man ; '• but it's lost its 
 credit this day, and the Master has shown himself no better 
 than a greedy cullion." 
 
 And with this conclusion, which was unanimously agreed 
 to by all who heard it, they rushed tumultuously into the 
 house of entertainment, where they revelled till a late hour. 
 The jovial temper of Bucklaw seldom permitted him to be 
 nice in the choice of his associates ; and on the present occa- 
 sion, when his joyous debauch received additional zest from 
 the intervention of an unusual space of sobriety, and almost 
 abstinence, he was as happy in leading the revels as if his 
 comrades had been sons of princes. Craigengelt had his own 
 purposes in fooling him up to the top of his bent ; and hav- 
 ing some low humor, much impudence, and the power of 
 singing a good song, understanding besides thoroughly the 
 disposition of his regained associate, he readily succeeded in 
 involving him bumper-deep in the festivity of the meeting. 
 
 A very different scene was in the mean time passing in the 
 Tower of Wolf's Crag. When the Master of Eavenswood left 
 the courtyard, too much busied Avith his own perplexed reflec- 
 tions to pay attention to the manoeuvre of Caleb, he ushered 
 his guests into the great hall of the castle. 
 
 The indefatigable Balderstone, who, from choice or habit, 
 worked on from morning to night, had by degrees cleared this 
 desolate apartment of the confused relics of the funeral ban- 
 quet, and restored it to some order. But not all his skill and 
 labor, in disposing to advantage the little furniture which 
 remained, could remove the dark and disconsolate appearance 
 of those ancient and disfurnished walls. The narrow win- 
 dows, flanked by deep indentures into the wall, seemed formed 
 rather to exclude than to admit the ch'eerful light ; and the 
 heavy and gloomy appearance of the thunder-sky added still 
 farther to the obscurity. 
 
THE BRIDE OF LA3IMERM00R 101 
 
 As Ravenswood, with the grace of a gallant of that period, 
 but not without a certain stiffness and embarrassment of 
 manner, handed the young lady to the upper end of the apart- 
 ment, her fattier remained standing more near to the door, as 
 if about to disengage himself from his hat and cloak. At 
 this moment the clang of the portal was heard, a sound at 
 which the stranger started, stepped hastily to the window, 
 and looked with an air of alarm at Ravenswood, when he saw 
 that the gate of the court was shut, and his domestics ex- 
 cluded, 
 
 " You have nothing to fear, sir," said Ravenswood, gravely ; 
 " this roof retains the means of giving protection, though not 
 welcome. Methinks," he added, "it is time that I should 
 know who they are that have thus highly honored my ruined 
 dwelling ! " 
 
 The young lady remained silent and motionless, and the 
 father, to whom the question was more directly addressed, 
 seemed in the situation of a performer who has ventured to 
 take upon himself a part which he finds himself unable to 
 present, and who comes to a pause when it is most to be ex- 
 pected that he should speak. While he endeavored to cover 
 his embarrassment with the exterior ceremonials of a well- 
 bred demeanor, it was obvious that, in making his bow, one 
 foot shuffled forward, as if to advance, the other backward, 
 as if with the purpose of escape ; and as he undid the cape of 
 his coat, and raised his beaver from his face, his fingers 
 fumbled as if the one had been linked with rusted iron or the 
 other had weighed equal with a stone of lead. The darkness 
 of the sky seemed to increase, as if to supply the want of those 
 mufflings which he laid aside with such evident reluctance. 
 The impatience of Ravenswood increased also in proportion 
 to the delay of the stranger, and he appeared to struggle under 
 agitation, though probably from a very different cause. He 
 labored to restrain his desire to speak, while the stranger, to 
 all appearance, was at a loss for words to express what he felt 
 it necessary to say. 
 
 At lengtii Ravenswood's impatience broke the bounds he 
 had imposed upon it, "I perceive," he said, "that Sir 
 William Ashton is unwilling to announce himself in the Cas- 
 tle of Wolf's Crag," 
 
 "I had hoped it was unnecessary," said the Lord Keeper, 
 relieved from his silence, as a spectre by the voice of the 
 exorcist; "and I am obliged to you, Master of Ravenswood, 
 for breaking the ice at once, where circumstances — imhappy 
 circumstances, let me call them — ^rendered self-introduction 
 peculiarly awkward." 
 
102 W AVE RLE Y NOVELS 
 
 *' And I am not then," said the Master of Kavenswood, 
 gravely, ''to consider the honor of this visit as purely acci- 
 dental ? " 
 
 ''Let us distinguish a little," said the Keeper, assuming 
 an appearance of ease which perhaps his heart was a stranger 
 to ; "this is an honor which I have eagerly desired for some 
 time, but which I might never have obtained, save for the 
 accident of the storm. My daughter and I are alike grateful 
 for this opportunity of thanking the brave man to whom she 
 owes her life and I mine. " 
 
 The hatred which divided the great families in the feudal 
 times had lost little of its bitterness, though it no longer ex- 
 pressed itself in deeds of open violence. Not the feelings 
 which Eavenswood had begun to entertain towards Lucy 
 Ashton, not the hospitality due to his guests, were able 
 entirely to subdue, though they warmly combated, the deep 
 passions which arose within him at beholding his father's foe 
 standing in the hall of the family of which he had in a great 
 measure accelerated the ruin. His looks glanced from the 
 father to the daughter with an irresolution of which Sir 
 William Ashton did not think it proper to await the conclu- 
 eion. He had now disembarrassed himself of his riding- 
 dress, and walking up to his daughter, he undid the fasten- 
 ing of her mask. 
 
 " Lucy, my love," he said, raising her and leading her 
 towards Eavenswood, " lay aside your mask, and let us ex- 
 press our gratitude to the Master openly and barefaced." 
 
 "If he will condescend to accept it," was all that Lucy 
 uttered ; but in a tone so sweetly modulated, and which 
 seemed to imply at once a feeling and a forgiving of the cold 
 reception to which they were exposed, that, coming from a 
 creature so innocent and so beautiful, her words cut Eavens- 
 wood to the very heart ior his harshness. He muttered 
 something of surprise, something of confusion, and, ending 
 with a warm and eager expression of his happiness at being 
 able to afford her shelter under his roof, he saluted her, as 
 the ceremonial of the time enjoined upon such occasions. 
 Their cheeks had touched and were withdrawn from each 
 other ; Eavenswood had not quitted the hand which he had 
 taken in kindly courtesy ; a blush, which attached more con- 
 sequence by far than was usual to such ceremony, still 
 mantled on Lucy Ashton's beautiful cheek, when the apart- 
 ment was suddenly illuminated by a flash of lightning, which 
 seemed absolutely to swallow the darkness of the hall. Every 
 object might have been for an instant seen distinctly. The 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR 103 
 
 slight and half-sinking form of Lucy Ashton ; the well-pro- 
 portioned and stately tigiire of Eavenswood, his dark features, 
 and the flery yet irresolute expression of his eyes ; the old 
 arms and scutcheons which hung on the walls of the apart- 
 ment, were for an instant distinctly visible to the Keeper by 
 a strong red brilliant glare of light. Its disappearance was 
 almost instantly followed by a burst of thunder, for the 
 storm-cloud was very near the castle ; and the peal was so 
 sudden and dreadful, that the old tower rocked to its founda- 
 tion, and every inmate concluded it was falling upon them. 
 The soot, which had not been disturbed for centuries, show- 
 ered down the huge tunnelled chimneys ; lime and dust flew 
 in clouds from the wall ; and, whether the lightning had 
 actually struck the castle or whether through the violent 
 concussion of the air, several heavy stones were hurled from 
 the mouldering battlements into the roaring sea beneath. It 
 might seem as if the ancient founder of the castle were be- 
 striding the thunderstorm, and proclaiming his displeasure at 
 the reconciliation of his descendant with the enemy of his 
 house. 
 
 The consternation was general, and it required the efforts 
 of both the Lord Keeper and Eavenswood to keep Lucy from 
 fainting. Thus was the Master a second time engaged in the 
 most delicate and dangerous of all tasks, that of affording 
 support and assistance to a beautiful and hel^iless being, who, 
 as seen before in a similar situation, had already become a 
 favorite of his imagination, both when awake and when 
 slumbering. If the genius of the house really condemned a 
 union betwixt the Master and his fair guest, the means by 
 which he expressed his sentiments were as unhappily chosen 
 as if he had been a mere mortal. The train of little atten- 
 tions, absolutely necessary to soothe the young lady's mind, 
 and aid her in composing i. x spirits, necessarily threw the 
 Master of Eavenswood into such an intercourse with her 
 father as was calculated, for the moment at least, to break 
 down the barrier of feudal enmity whicli divided them. To 
 express liimself churlishly, or even coldly, towards an old 
 man whose daughter (and such a daughter) lay before them, 
 overpowered with natural terror — and all this under his own 
 roof — tlie thing was imj^ossible ; and by the time that Lucy, 
 extending a hand to each, was able to thank them for their 
 kindness, the Master felt that his sentiments of hostility 
 towards the Lord Keeper were by no means those most pre- 
 dominant in his bosom. 
 
 The weather, her state of health, the absence of her at- 
 
104 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 tendants, all prevented the possibility of Lncy Ashton renew- 
 ing her journey to Bittlebrains House, which was full five 
 miles distant ; and the Master of Ravenswood could not but, 
 in common courtesy, offer the shelter of his roof for the rest 
 of the day and for the night. But a flush of less soft expres- 
 sion, a look much more habitual to his features, resumed pre- 
 dominance when he mentioned how meanly he was provided 
 for the entertainment of his guests. 
 
 " Do not mention deficiencies," said the Lord Keeper, 
 eager to interrupt him and prevent his resuming an alarming 
 topic ; ''you are preparing to set out for the Continent, and 
 your house is probably for the present unfurnished. All this 
 we understand ; but if you mention inconvenience, you will 
 oblige us to seek accommodations in the hamlet." 
 
 As the Master of Ravenswood was about to reply, the door 
 of the hall opened, and Caleb Balderstone rushed in. 
 
CHAPTER XI 
 
 Let them hare meat enough, woman — half a hen ; 
 There be old rotten pilchards — put them off too ; 
 'Tis but a little new anointing of them, 
 And a strong onion, that confounds the savor. 
 
 Love's Pilgrimage. 
 
 The thunderbolt, which had stunned all who were within 
 hearing of it, had only served to awaken the bold and invent- 
 ive genius of the flower of majors-domo. Almost before the 
 clatter had ceased, and while there was yet scarce an assur- 
 ance Avhether the castle was standing or falling, Caleb ex- 
 claimed, "Heavens be praised ! this comes to hand like the 
 boul of a pint-stoup." He then barred the kitchen door in 
 the face of the Lord Keeper's servant, whom he perceived 
 returning from the party at the gate, and nmttering, " How 
 the deil cam he in ? — but deil may care. Mysie, what are ye 
 sitting shaking and greeting in the chimney-neuk for ? 
 Come here — or stay where ye are, and skirl as loud as ye can ; 
 it's a' ye're gude for. I say, ye auld deevil, skirl — skirl — 
 louder — louder, woman ; gar the gentles hear ye in the ha'. 
 I have heard ye as far off as the Bass for a less matter. And 
 stay — down wi' that crockery " 
 
 And with a sweeping blow, he threw down from a shelf 
 some articles of pewter and earthenware. He exalted his 
 voice amid the clatter, shouting and roaring in a manner 
 which changed Mysie's hysterical terrors of the thunder into 
 fears that her old fellow-servant was gone distracted. ''He 
 has dung down a' the bits o' pigs, too — the only thing we had 
 left to baud a soup milk — and he has spilled the hatted kit that 
 was for the Master's dinner. Mercy save us, the auld man's 
 gaen clean and clear wud wi' the thunner !" 
 
 ''Hand your tongue, ye b !" said Caleb, in the im- 
 petuous and overbearing triumph of successful invention, 
 " a's provided now — dinner and a'thing ; the thunner's done 
 a' in a clap of a hand ! " 
 
 " Puir man, he's muckle astray," said Mysie, looking at 
 him with a mixture of pity and alarm ; " I wish he may ever 
 come harae to himsell again." 
 
106 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 " Here, ye auld doited deevil/' said Caleb, still exulting in 
 his extrication from a dilemma which had seemed insurmount- 
 able ; " keep the strange man out of the kitchen ; swear the 
 thunner came down the chimney and spoiled the best dinner 
 ye ever dressed — beef — bacon — kid — lark — leveret — wild-fowl 
 — venison, and what-not. Lay it on thick, and never mind 
 expenses, I'll awa' ujJ to the ha'. Make a' the confusion ye 
 can ; but be sure ye keep out the strange servant," 
 
 With these charges to his ally, Caleb posted up to the hall, 
 but stopping to reconnoitre through an aperture, which time, 
 for the convenience of many a domestic in succession, had 
 made in the door, and perceiving the situation of Miss Ash- 
 ton, he had prudence enough to make a pause, both to avoid 
 adding to her alarm and in order to secure attention to his 
 account of the disastrous effects of the thunder. 
 
 But when he perceived that the lady was recovered, and 
 heard the conversation turn upon the accommodation and re- 
 freshment which the castle afforded, he thought it time to 
 burst into the room in the manner announced in the last 
 chapter, 
 
 " Willawins ! — willawins ! Such a misfortune to befa" the 
 house of Ravenswood, and I to live to see it." 
 
 " What is the matter, Caleb ?" said his master, somewhat 
 alarmed in his turn ; ' ' has any part of the castle fallen ? " 
 
 " Castle fa'an ! na, but the sute's fa'an, and the thunner's 
 come right down the kitchen-lum, and the things are a' lying 
 here awa', there awa', like tlie Laird o' Hotchf)otch's lands ; 
 and wi' brave guests of honor and quality to entertain [a low 
 bow here to Sir William Ashton and his daughter], and nae- 
 thing left in the house fit to present for dinner, or for supper 
 either, for aught that I can see ! " 
 
 '•I verily believe you, Caleb," said Eavenswood, dryly. 
 
 Balderstone here turned to his master a half-upbraiding, 
 half-imploring countenance, and edged towards him as he re- 
 peated, "It was nae great matter of preparation; but just 
 something added to your honor's ordinary course of fare — 
 pettii cover, as they say at the Louvre — three courses and the 
 fruit." 
 
 "Keep your intolerable nonsense to yourself, you old 
 fool ! " said Ravenswood, mortified at his officiousness, yet not 
 knowing how to contradict him, without the risk of giving 
 rise to scenes yet more ridiculous, 
 
 Caleb saw his advantage, and resolved to improve it. But 
 first, observing that the Lord Keeper's servant entered the 
 apartment and spoke apurt vrith his master, he took the same 
 

THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR 107 
 
 opportunity to whisper a few words into Ravenswood's ear — 
 " Hand your tongue, for heaven ^s sake, sir ; if it's my pleasure 
 to hazard my soul in telling lees for the honor of the family, 
 it's nae business o' yours ; and if ye let me gang on quietly, 
 I'se be moderate in my banquet ; but if ye contradict me, deil 
 but I dress }e a dinner fit for a duke ! " 
 
 Ravenswood, in fact, thought it would be best to let his 
 officious butler run on, who proceeded to enumerate upon his 
 fingers — '* No muckle provision — might hae served four per- 
 sons of honor, — first course, capons in white broth — roast 
 kid — bacon with reverence ; second course, roasted leveret — 
 butter crabs — a veal florentine ; third course, blackcock — it's 
 black eneugh now wi' the sute — plumdamas — a tart — a flam — 
 and some nonsense sweet things, and comfits — and that's a','* 
 he said, seeing the impatience of his master — ''that's just a' 
 was o't — forbye the apples and pears." 
 
 Miss Ashton had by degrees gathered her spirits, so far as 
 to pay some attention to what was going on ; and observing 
 the strained impatience of Ravenswood, contrasted with the 
 peculiar determination of manner with which Caleb de- 
 tailed his imaginary banquet, the whole struck her as so 
 ridiculous that, despite every effort to the contrary, she burst 
 into a fit of incontrollable laughter, in which she was joined 
 by her father, though with more moderation, and finally by 
 the Master of Ravenswood himself, though conscious that the 
 jest was at his own expense. Their mirth — for a scene which 
 we read with little emotion often appears extremely ludicrous 
 to the spectators — made the old vault ring again. They 
 ceased — they renewed — they ceased — they renewed again their 
 shouts of laughter ! Caleb, in the mean time, stood his ground 
 with a grave, angry, and scornful dignity, which greatly en- 
 hanced the ridicule of the scene and the mirth of the specta- 
 tors. 
 
 At length, when the voices, and nearly the strength, of 
 the laughers were exhausted, he exclaimed, with very little 
 ceremony, " The deil's in the gentles ! they breakfast sae 
 lordly, that the loss of the best dinner ever cook pat fingers 
 to makes them as merry as if it were the best jeest in a' George 
 Buchanan.* If there was as little in your honors' wames as 
 there is in Caleb Baklerstone's, less caickling wad serve ye on 
 sic a gravamiuous subject." 
 
 Caleb's blunt expression of resentment again awakened 
 the mirth of the company, which, by the way, he regarded not 
 only as an aggression upon the dignity of tlie family, but a 
 
 *See George Buchanan's Jests. Note -1. 
 
108 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 special contempt of the eloquence with which he himself had 
 summed up the extent of their supposed losses. "A descrip- 
 tion of a dinner," as he said afterwards to Mysie, "that wad 
 hae made a fu' man hungry, and them to sit there laughing 
 at it ! " 
 
 " But," said Miss Ashton, composing her countenance as 
 ivell as she could, " are all these delicacies so totally destroyed 
 that no scrap can be collected ?" 
 
 " Collected, myleddy ! what wad ye collect out of the sute 
 and the ass ? Ye may gang down yoursell, and look into our 
 kitchen — the cookmaid in the trembling exies — the gude 
 vivers lying a' about — beef, capons, and white broth — florentine 
 and flams — bacon wi' reverence — and a' the sweet confections 
 and whim-whams — ye'll see them a', my leddy — that is," said 
 he, correcting himself, " ye'll no see ony of them now, for the 
 cook has soopit them uj), as was weel her part ; but ye'll see 
 the white broth where it was spilt. I pat my fingers in it, 
 and it tastes as like sour milk as ony thing else ; if that isna 
 the effect of thunner, I kenna what is. This gentleman here 
 couldna but hear the clash of our haill dishes, china and sil- 
 ver thegither ? " 
 
 The Lord Keeper's domestic, though a statesman's atten- 
 dant, and of course trained to command his countenance upon 
 all occasions, was somewhat discomposed by this appeal, to 
 which he only answered by a bow. 
 
 " I think, Mr. Butler," said the Lord Keeper, who began 
 to be afraid lest the prolongation of this scene should at length 
 displease Eavenswood — "I think that, were you to retire with 
 my servant Lockhard — he has travelled, and is quite accus- 
 tomed to accidents and contingencies of every kind, and I 
 hope betwixt you, you may find out some mode of supply at 
 this emergency." 
 
 " His honor kens," said Caleb, who, however hopeless of 
 himself of accomplishing what was desirable, would, like the 
 high-spirited elephant, rather have died in the effort than 
 brooked the aid of a brother in commission — "his honor kens 
 weel I need nae counsellor, when the honor of the house is 
 concerned." 
 
 " I should be unjust if I denied it, Caleb," said his master ; 
 " but your art lies chiefly in making apologies, upon which 
 we can no more dine than upon the bill of fare of our thunder- 
 blasted dinner. Now, possibly Mr. Lockhard's talent may 
 consist in finding some substitute for that which certainly is 
 not, and has in all probability never been." 
 
 " Your honor is pleased to be facetious," said Caleb, " but 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR 104 
 
 I am sure that, for the warst, for a walk as far as Wolf's 
 Hope, I could dine forty men — no that the folk there deserve 
 your honor's custom. They hae been ill advised in the matter 
 of the duty eggs and butter, I winna deny that." 
 
 '^Dogo consult together," said the Master; "go down 
 to the village, and do the best you can. We must not let our 
 guests remain without refreshment, to save the honor of a 
 ruined family. And here, Caleb, take my purse ; I believe 
 that will prove your best ally." 
 
 '' Purse ! purse, indeed ! " quoth Caleb, indignantly fling- 
 ing out of the room ; " what suld I do wi' your honor's purse, 
 on your ain grund ? I trust we are no to pay for our ain ? " 
 
 The servants left the hall ; and the door was no sooner shut 
 than the Lord Keeper began to apologize for the rudeness of 
 his mirth ; and Lucy to hope she had given no pain or of' 
 fence to the kind-hearted faithful old man. 
 
 " Caleb and I must both learn, madam, to undergo with 
 good humor, or at least with patience, the ridicule which 
 everywhere attaches itself to poverty." 
 
 "You do yourself injustice. Master of Ravenswood, on 
 my word of honor," answered his elder guest. "I believe I 
 know more of your affairs than you do yourself, and I hope 
 to show you that I am interested in them ; and that — in 
 short, that your prospects are better than you apprehend. In 
 the mean time, I can conceive nothing so respectable as the 
 spirit which rises above misfortune, and prefers honorable 
 privations to debt or dependence." 
 
 Whether from fear of offending the delicacy or awakening 
 the pride of the Master, the Lord Keeper made these allu- 
 sions with an appearance of fearful and hesitating reserve, 
 and seemed to be afraid that he was intruding too far, in ven- 
 turing to touch, however lightly, upon such a topic, even 
 when the Master had led to it. In short, he appeared at once 
 pushed on by his desire of appearing friendly, and held back 
 by the fear of intrusion. It was no wonder that, the Master 
 of Ravenswood, little acquainted as he then was witli life, 
 should have given tliis consummate covirtier credit for more 
 sincerity than was probably to be found in a score of his cast. 
 He answered, however, with reserve, that he was indebted to 
 all who might think well of him ; and, apologizing to his 
 guests, he left the hall, in order to maka sucii arrangements 
 for their entertainment as circumstances admitted. 
 
 Upon consulting with old Mysie, the accommodations for 
 the night were easily completed, as indeed they admitted of 
 little choice. Tlie Master surrendered his apartment for the 
 
110 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 use of Miss Ashton, and Mysie, once a person of consequence, 
 dressed in a black satin gown which had belonged of yore to 
 the Master's grand motlier, and had figured in the court-balls 
 of Henrietta Maria, went to attend her as lady's-maid. He 
 next inquired after Bucklaw, and understanding he was at 
 the change-house with the huntsmen and some companions, 
 he desired Caleb to call there, and acquaint him how he was 
 circumstanced at Wolf's Crag ; to intimate to him that it 
 would be most convenient if he could find a bed in the ham- 
 let, as the elder guest must necessarily be quartered in the 
 secret chamber, the only spare bedroom which could be 
 made fit to receive him. The Master saw no hardship in 
 passing the night by the hall fire, wrapped in his campaign- 
 cloak ; and to Scottish domestics of the day, even of the high- 
 est rank, nay, to young men of family or fashion, on any 
 pinch, clean straw, or a dry hay-loft, was always held good 
 night-quarters. 
 
 For the rest, Lockhard had his master's orders to bring 
 some venison from the inn, and Caleb was to trust to his wits 
 for the honor of his family. The Master, indeed, a second 
 time held out his purse ; but, as it was in sight of the strange 
 servant, the butler thought himself obliged to decline what 
 Ms fingers itched to clutch. "Couldna he hae slippit it 
 gently into my hand ? " said Caleb ; " but his honor will never 
 learn how to bear himsell in siccan cases." 
 
 Mysie, in tlie mean time, according to a uniform custom 
 in remote places in Scotland, offered the strangers the prod- 
 uce of her little dairy, "while better meat was getting 
 ready. '^ And according to another custom, not yet wholly in 
 desuetude, as the storm was now drifting off to leeward, the 
 Master carried the Keeper to the top of his highest tower to 
 admire a wide and waste extent of view, and to "weary for 
 his dinner." 
 
CHAPTER XII 
 
 Now dame,'' quoth he, " Je vous dis sans doute. 
 
 Had I nought of a capon but the liver, 
 
 And of your white bread nought but a shiver, 
 
 And aft'.-r tliat a roasted pigge's head 
 
 (But I ne wold for me no beast were dead), 
 
 Then had I with you homely sufferaunce." 
 
 Chaucer, Sumner's Tale. 
 
 It was not without some secret misgivings that Caleb set out 
 upon his exploratory expedition. In fact, it was attended 
 with a treble difficulty. He dared not tell his master the 
 offence which he had that morning given to Bucklaw, just for 
 the honor of the family ; he dared not acknowledge he had 
 been too hasty in refusing the purse ; and, thirdly, he was 
 somewhat apprehensive of unpleasant consequences upon his 
 meeting Hayston under the impression of an affront, and 
 probably by this time under the influence also of no small 
 quantity of brandy. 
 
 Caleb, to do him justice, was as bold as any lion where the 
 honor of the family of Ravenswood was concerned ; but his 
 was that considerate valor which does not delight in unnec- 
 essary risks. This, however, was a secondary consideration ; 
 the main point was to veil the indigence of the housekeeping 
 at the castle, and to make good his vaunt of the cheer which 
 his resources could procure, without Lockhard's assistance, 
 and without supplies from his master. This was as prime a 
 point of honor with him as with the generous elephant with 
 whom we have already compared him, who, being overtasked, 
 broke his skull through the desperate exertions which he made 
 to discharge his duty, when he perceived they were bringing 
 up another to his assistance. 
 
 The village which they now approached had frequently 
 afforded the distressed butler resources upon similar emergen- 
 cies ; but his relations with it had been of late much altered. 
 
 It was a little hamlet which straggled along the side of a 
 creek formed by the discharge of a small brook into the sea, 
 and was hidden from the castle, to which it had been in former 
 times an appendage, by the intervention of the Bhoulder of 
 
112 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 a liill forming a projecting headland. It was called Wolfs 
 Hope {i.e. Wolf's Haven), and the few inhabitants gained a 
 precarious subsistence by manning two or tliree fishing-boats 
 in the herring season, and smuggling gin and brandy during 
 the winter months. They paid a kind of hereditary respect 
 to the Lords of Ravenswood ; but, in the difficulties of the 
 family, most of the inhabitants of Wolf's Hope had contrived 
 to get feu-rights to their little possessions, their huts, kail- 
 yards, and rights of commonty, so that they were emancipated 
 from the chains of feudal dependence, and free from the vari- 
 ous exactions with which, under every possible pretext, or 
 without any pretext at all, the Scottish landlords of the period, 
 themselves in great poverty, were wont to harass their still 
 poorer tenants at will. They might be, on the whole, termed 
 independent, a circumstance peculiarly galling to Caleb, who 
 had been wont to exercise over them the same sweeping au- 
 thority in levying contributions which was exercised in former 
 times in England, when "the royal purveyors, sallying 
 forth from under the Gothic portcullis to purchase provisions 
 with poAver and prerogative, instead of money, brought home 
 the plunder of an hundred markets, and all that could be 
 seized from a flying and hiding country, and deposited their 
 spoil in an hundred caverns." * 
 
 Caleb loved the memory and resented the downfall of that 
 authority, which mimicked, on a petty scale, the grand con- 
 tributions exacted by the feudal sovereigns. And as he fondly 
 flattered himself that the awful rule and right supremacy, 
 which assigned to the Barons of Ravenswood the first and 
 most effective interest in all productions of nature within five 
 miles of their castle, only slumbered, and was not departed 
 forever, he used every now and then to give tlie recollection 
 of the inhabitants a little Jog by some petty exaction. 
 These were at first submitted to, with more or less readi- 
 ness, by the inhabitants of the hamlet ; for they had been so 
 long used to consider the wants of tlie Baron and his family 
 as having a title to be preferred to their own, that their 
 actual independence did not convey to them an immediate 
 sense of freedom. They resembled a man that has been long 
 fettered, who, even at liberty, feels in imagination the grasp 
 of the handcuffs still binding his wrists. But the exercise of 
 freedom is quickly followed with the natural consciousness of 
 its immunities, as the enlarged prisoner, by the free use of 
 his limbs, soon dispels the cramped feeling they had ac- 
 quired when bound. 
 
 ♦ Burke's Speech on Economical Reform : Works, vol. iii. , p. 850. 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR li3 
 
 The inhabitants of Wolf's Hope began to grumble, tc 
 resist, and at length positively to refuse compliance with the 
 exactions of Caleb Balderstone, It was in vain he reminded 
 them, that when the eleventh Lord Ravenswood, called the 
 Skipper, from his delight in naval matters, had encouraged 
 the trade of their port by building the pier (a bulwark of 
 stones rudely piled together), which protected the fishing- 
 boats from the weather, it had been matter of understanding 
 that he was to have the first stone of butter after the calving 
 of every cow within the barony, and the first egg, thence 
 called the Monday's egg, laid by every hen on every Monday 
 in the year. 
 
 The feuars heard and scratched their heads, coughed, 
 sneezed, and being pressed for answer, rejoined with one 
 voice, "They could not say" — the universal refuge of a Scot- 
 tish peasant when pressed to admit a claim which his con- 
 science owns, or perhaps his feelings, and his interest inclines 
 him to deny. 
 
 Caleb, however, furnished the notables of Wolf's Hope 
 with a note of the requisition of butter and eggs, which he 
 claimed as arrears of the aforesaid subsidy, or kindly aid, 
 payable as above mentioned ; and having intimated that he 
 would not be averse to compound the same for goods or money, 
 if it was inconvenient to them to pay in kind, left them, as he 
 hoped, to debate the mode of assessing themselves for that 
 purpose. On the contrary, they met with a determined pur- 
 pose of resisting tlie exaction, and were only undecided as to 
 the mode of grounding their opposition, when the cooper, a 
 very important person on a fishing-station, and one of the 
 conscript fathers of the village, observed, ''That their hens 
 had caickled mony a day for the Lords of Ravenswood, and 
 it was time they suld caickle for those that gave them roosts 
 and barley." A unanimous grin intimated the assent of the 
 assembly. "'And/' continued the orator, "if it's your wull, 
 I'll just tak a step as far as Dunse for Davie Dingwall, the 
 writer, that's come frae the North to settle amang us, and 
 he'll pit this job to rights, I'se warrant him." 
 
 A day was accordingly fixed for holding a grand palaver 
 at Wolf's Hope on the subject of Caleb's requisitions, and he 
 was invited to attend at the hamlet for that purpose. 
 
 He went with open hands and empty stomach, trusting to 
 fill the one on his master's account and" the other on his own 
 score, at the expense of the feuars of Wolf's Hope. But, death 
 to his hopes ! as he entered the eastern end of the straggling 
 village, the awful form of Davie Dingwall, a sly, dry/ hard- 
 
114 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 fisted, shrewd country attorney, who had already acted against 
 the family of Ravenswood, and was a principal agent of Sir 
 William Asliton, trotted in at the western extremity, bestrid- 
 ing a leathern portmanteau stuffed with the feu-charters of 
 the hamlet, and hoping he had not kept Mr. Balderstone 
 waiting, '' as he was instructed and fully empowered to pay 
 or receive, compound or compensate, and, in fine, to age as 
 accords, respecting all mutual and unsettled claims whatso- 
 ever, belonging or competent to the Honorable Edgar Ravens- 
 wood, commonly called the Master of Ravenswood " 
 
 "The Right Honorable Edgar Lord Eave'?istvood, " ssiid 
 Caleb, with great emphasis ; for, though conscious he had 
 little chance of advantage in the conflict to ensue, he was re- 
 solved not to sacrifice one jot of honor. 
 
 "Lord Ravenswood, then," said the man of business — 
 *' we shall not quarrel with you about titles of courtesy — 
 commonly called Lord Ravenswood, or Master of Ravenswood, 
 heritable ]oroprietor of the lands and barony of Wolf's Crag, 
 on the one part, and to John Whitefish and others, feuars in 
 the town of Wolf's Hope, within the barony aforesaid, on the 
 other part." 
 
 Caleb was conscious, from sad experience, that he would 
 wage a very different strife with this mercenary champion 
 than with the individual feuars themselves, upon whose old rec- 
 ollections, predilections, and habits of thinking he might 
 have wrought by a hundred indirect arguments, to which 
 their deputy-representative was totally insensible. The issue 
 of the debate proved the reality of his apprehensions. It 
 was in vain he strained his eloquence and ingenuity, and col- 
 lected into one mass all arguments arising from antique cus- 
 tom and hereditary respect, from the good deeds done by the 
 Lords of Ravenswood to the community of Wolf's Hope in 
 former days, and from what might be expected from them 
 in future. The writer stuck to the contents of his feu-char- 
 ters ; he could not see it : 'twas not in the bond. And when 
 Caleb, determined to try what a little spirit would do, depre- 
 cated the consequences of Lord Ravenswood's withdrawing 
 his protection from the burgh, and even hinted at his using 
 active measures of resentment, the man of law sneered in his 
 face. 
 
 "His clients,*' he said, "had determined to do the best 
 they could for their own town, and he thought Lord Ravens- 
 wood, since he was a lord, might have enough to do to look 
 after his own castle. As to any threats of stouthrief op- 
 pression, by rule of thumb, or viafacti, as the law termed it. 
 
TTTE BRTDE OF LAMMERMOOJR 115 
 
 he would have Mr. Balderstone recollect, that new times* 
 were not as old times ; that they lived on the south of the 
 Forth, and far from the Highlands ; that his clients thought 
 they were able to protect themselves; but should they find 
 themselves mistaken, they would apply to the government 
 for the protection of a corporal and four red-coats, who," 
 said Mr. Dingwall, with a grin, " would be perfectly able to 
 secure them against Lord Ravenswood, and all that he or his 
 followers could do by the strong hand." 
 
 If Caleb could have concentrated all the lightnings of 
 aristocracy in his eye, to have struck dead this contemner of 
 allegiance and privilege, he would have launched them at his 
 head, without respect to the consequences. As it was, he 
 was compelled to turn his course backward to the castle ; and 
 there he remained for full half a day invisible and inaccessible 
 even to Mysie, sequestered in his own peculiar dungeon, where 
 he sat burnishing a single pewter plate and whistling '^ Mag- 
 gie Lauder " six hours without intermission. 
 
 The issue of this unfortunate requisition had shut against 
 Caleb all resources which could be derived from Wolffs Hope 
 and its purlieus, the El Dorado, or Peru, from which, in all 
 former cases of exigence, he ]i;id been able to extract some 
 assistance. He had, indeed, in a manner vowed that the deil 
 should have him, if ever he put the print of his foot within its 
 causeway again. He had hitherto kept his word ; and, strange 
 to tell, this secession had, as he intended, in some degree, the 
 effect of a punishment upon the refractory f euars. Mr. Balder- 
 fitone had been a person in their eyes connected with a superior 
 order of things, whose presence used to grace their little festivi- 
 ties, whose advice they found useful on many occasions, and 
 whose communications gave a sort of credit to their village. 
 The place, they acknowledged, '^'didna look as it used to do, 
 and should do, since Mr. Caleb keepit the castle sae closely ; 
 but doubtless, touching the eggs and butter, it was a most un- 
 reasonable demand, as Mr. Dingwall had justly made manifest." 
 
 Thus stood matters betwixt the parties, when the old butler, 
 though it was gall and wormwood to him, found himself obliged 
 either to acknowledge before a strange man of quality, and, 
 what was much worse, before that stranger's servant, the total 
 inability of Wolf's Crag to produce a dinner, or he must trust 
 to the compassion of the feuars of Wolf's Hope. It was a 
 dreadful degradation ; but necessity was equally imperious 
 and lawless. With these feelings he entered the street of the 
 village. 
 
 Willing to shake himself from his cojnpauioii as soon as 
 
116 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 possible, he directed Mr. Lockhard to Lnckie Sma'trash's 
 change-house, where a din, proceeding from the revels of 
 Bucklaw. Oraigengelt, and their part}^, sounded half-way down 
 the street, while the red glare from the window overpowered 
 the gray twilight which was now settling down, and glimmered 
 against a parcel of old tubs, kegs, and barrels, jiiled up in the 
 cooper's yard, on the other side of the way. 
 
 " It you, Mr. Lockhard," said the old butler to his com- 
 panion, "will be pleased to step to the change-house where 
 that light comes from, and where, as I judge, they are now 
 singing ' (Jauld Kail in Aberdeen,^ ye may do your master's 
 errand about the venison, and I will do mine about Buck- 
 law's bed, as I return frae getting the rest of the vivers. It's 
 no that the venison is actually needfu'," he added, detaining 
 his colleague by the button, " to make up the dinner ; but as 
 a compliment to the hunters, ye ken ; and, Mr. Lockhard, if 
 they offer ve a drink o' yill, or a cup o' wine, or a glass o' 
 brandy, ye'll be a wise man to take it, in case the thunner 
 should hae soured ours at the castle, whilk is ower muckle to 
 be dreaded." 
 
 He then permitted Lockhard to depart ; and with foot 
 heavy as lead, and yet far lighter than his heart, stepped on 
 through the unequal street of the straggling village, meditat- 
 ing on whom he ought to make his first attack. It was neces- 
 sary he should find some one with whom old acknowledged 
 greatness should weigh more than recent independence, and 
 to whom his application might appear an act of high dignity, 
 relenting at once and soothing. But he could not recollect 
 an inhabitant of a mind so constructed. ''Our kail is like to 
 be cauld eueugh too," he reflected, as the chorus of " Cauld 
 Kail in Aberdeen" again reached his ears. The minister — he 
 had got his presentation from the late lord, but they had quar- 
 relled about teinds ; the brewster's wife — she had trusted 
 long, and the bill was aye scored up, and unless the dignity of 
 the family should actually require it, it would be a sin to dis- 
 tress a widow woman. None was so able — but, on the other 
 hand, none was likely to be less willing — to stand his friend 
 upon the present occasion, than Gibbie Girder, the man of 
 tubs and barrels already mentioned, who had headed the in- 
 surrection in the matter of the egg and butter subsidy. "But 
 a' comes o' taking folk on the right side, I trow," quoth Caleb 
 to himself; "and I had ance the ill hap to say he was but a 
 Johny New-come in our town, and the carle bore the family an 
 ill-will ever since. But he married a bonny young queen, Jean 
 Lightbody, auld Lightbody's daughter, him that was in the 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR 117 
 
 steading of Loup-the-Dyke ; and auld Lightbody was married 
 himsell to Marion, that was about ray lady in the family forty 
 years syne. I hae liad niouy a day's daflftiig wi' Jean's mither, 
 and they say she bides on wi' them. The carle has Jacobuses 
 and Georgiuses baith, an ane could get at them ; and sure I 
 am, it's doing him an honor him or his never deserved at our 
 hand, the ungracious sumpli ; and if he loses by us a'the- 
 gither, he is e'en cheap o't : he can spare it brawly." 
 
 Shaking off irresolution, therefore, and turning at once 
 upon his heel, Caleb walked hastily back to the cooper's 
 house, lifted the latch without ceremony, and, in a moment, 
 found himself behind the ^'hallan," or 2)artition, from wliich 
 position he could, himself unseen, reconnoitre the interior of 
 the " but," or kitchen apartment, of the mansion. 
 
 Reverse of the sad menage at the Castle of Wolf's Crag, a 
 bickering fire roared up tlie cooper's chimney. His wife, on 
 the one side, in her pearlings and pudding-sleeves, put the 
 last finishing touch to her holiday's apparel, while she con- 
 templated a very handsome and good-humored face in a broken 
 mirror, raised upon the "bink" (the shelves on which the 
 plates are disposed) for her special accommodation. Her 
 mother, old Luckie Loup-the-Dyke, "a canty carline " as 
 was within twenty miles of her, according to the unanimous 
 report of the " cummers," or gossips, sat by the fire in the full 
 glory of a grogram gown, lammer beads, and a clean cocker- 
 nony, whiffing a snug pipe of tobacco, and superintending 
 tlie affairs of the kitchen ; for — sight more interesting to the 
 anxious heart and craving entrails of the desponding seneschal 
 than either buxom dame or canty cummer — there bubbled on 
 the aforesaid bickering fire a huge pot, or rather caldron, 
 steaming with beef and brewis ; while before it revolved two 
 spits, turned each by one of tlie cooper's apprentices, seated 
 in the opposite corners of the chimney, the one loaded with a 
 quarter of mutton, while the other was graced with a fat 
 goose and a brace of wild ducks. Tlie sight and scent of 
 such a land of plenty almost wholly overcame the drooping 
 spirits of Caleb. He turned, for a moment's space, to recon- 
 noitre the "ben," or parlor end of the house, and there saw 
 a sight scarce less affecting to his feelings — a large round 
 table, covered for ten or twelve persons, decored (according 
 to his own favorite term) with napery as white as snow, grand 
 flagons of pewter, intermixed with one or two silver cups, 
 containing, as was probable, something worthy the brilliancy 
 of their outward appearance, clean trenchers, cutty spoons, 
 knives and forks, sharp, Ijurnished, and prompt for action, 
 which lay all displayed as for an especial festival. 
 
118 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 " The devil's in the peddling tub-coopering carle ! " mnt- 
 tered Caleb, in all the envy of astonishment ; ''it's a shame to 
 see the like o' them gusting their gabs at sic a rate. But il 
 some o' that gude cheer does not find its way to Wolfs Crag 
 this night, my name is not Caleb Balderstone.^' 
 
 So resolving, he entered the apartment, and, in all 
 courteous greeting, saluted both the mother and the daug>.ter. 
 Wolf's Crag was the court of the barony, Caleb prime minis- 
 ter at Wolf's Crag ; and it has ever been remarked that, 
 though the masculine subject who pays the taxes sometimes 
 growls at the courtiers by whom they are imposed, the said 
 courtiers continue, nevertheless, welcome to the fair sex, to 
 whom they furnish the newest small-talk and the earliest 
 fashions. Both the dames were, therefore, at once about 
 old Caleb's neck, setting up their throats together by way of 
 welcome. 
 
 *•' Ay, sirs, Mr. Balderstone, and is this you ? A sight of 
 you is gude for sair een. Sit down — sit down ; the gudeman 
 will be blithe to see you — ye nar saw him sae cadgy in your 
 life ; but we are to christen our bit wean the night, as ye 
 will liae heard, and doubtless ye will stay and see the ordi- 
 nance. We hae killed a wether, and ane o' our lads has been 
 out wi' his gun at the moss ; ye used to like wild-fowl." 
 
 " Na, na, gudewife," said Caleb; "I just keekit in to 
 wish ye joy, and I wad be glad to hae spoken wi' the gude- 
 man, but " moving, as if to go away. 
 
 "The ne'er a fit ye's gang," said the elder dame, laugh- 
 ing and holding him fast, with a freedom which belonged to 
 their old acquaintance ; " wha kens what ill it may bring to 
 the bairn, if ye owerlook it in that gate ? " 
 
 " But I'm in a preceese hurry, gudewife," said the butler, 
 suffering himself to be dragged to a seat without much 
 resistance ; "and as to eating," for he observed the mistress 
 of the dwelling bustling about to place a trencher for him — 
 "as for eating — lack-a-day, we are just killed up yonder wi' 
 eating frae morning to night ! It's shamefu' epicurism ; but 
 that's what we hae gotten frae the English pock-puddings." 
 
 "Hout, never mind the English pock-puddings," said 
 Lnckie Lightbody ; "try our puddings, Mr. Balderstone; 
 there is black pudding and white-hass ; try whilk ye like 
 best." 
 
 " Baith gude — baith excellent — canna be better ; but the 
 very smell is enough for me that hae dined sae lately [the 
 faithful wretch had fasted since daybreak]. But I wadna 
 affront your housewifeskep, gudewife ; and, with your per- 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR 119 
 
 mission, I'se e'en pit them in my napkin, and eat them to my 
 supper at e'en, for I am wearied of Mysie's pastry and non- 
 sense ; ye ken landward dainties aye pleased me best, Marion, 
 and landward lasses too [looking at the cooper's wife] . Ne'er 
 a bit but she looks far better than when she married Gilbert, 
 and then she was the bonniest lass in our parochine and the 
 neist till't. But gawsie cow, goodly calf." 
 
 The women smiled at the compliment each to herself, and 
 they smiled again to each other as Caleb wrapped up the pud- 
 dings in a towel which he had brought with him, as a dragoon 
 carries his foraging bag to receive what may fall in his way. 
 
 "And what news at the castle ?" quoth the gudewife. 
 
 " News ! the bravest news ye ever heard — the Lord Keeper's 
 up yonder wi' his fair daughter, just ready to fling her at my 
 lord's head, if he winna tak her out o' his arms ; and I'se 
 warrant he'll stitch our auld lands of Eavenswood to her 
 petticoat tail." 
 
 '•'Eh! sirs — ay! — and will he hae her? and is she weel- 
 favored ? and what's the color o' her hair ? and does she wear 
 a habit or a railly ? " were the questions which the females 
 showered upon the butler. 
 
 "Hout tout! it wad tak a man a day to answer a' your 
 questions, and I hae hardly a minute. Where's the gude- 
 man ? " 
 
 " Awa' to fetch the minister," said Mrs. Girder, "precious 
 Mr. Peter Bide-the-Bent, frae the Mosshead ; the honest man 
 has the rheumatism wi' lying in the hills in the persecution." 
 
 "Ay ! a Whig and a mountain man, naeless !" said Caleb, 
 with a peevishness he could not suppress. "I hae seen the 
 day. Luckie, when worthy Mr. Cuffcushion and the service- 
 book would hae served your turn [to the elder dame], or ony 
 honest woman in like circumstances." 
 
 "And that's true too," said Mrs. Lightbody, "but what 
 can a body do ? Jean maun baith sing her psalms and busk 
 her cockernony the gate the gudeman likes, and nae ither 
 gate ; for he's maister and mair at hame, I can tell ye, Mr. 
 Balderstone." 
 
 ' * Ay, ay, and does he guide the gear too ? " said Caleb, to 
 whose projects masculine rule boded little good. 
 
 "Ilka penny on't ; but he'll dress her as dink as a daisy, 
 as ye see ; sae she has little reason to complain : where there's 
 ane better aS there's ten waur." 
 
 " Aweel, gudewife," said Caleb, crestfallen, but not beaten 
 off, " that wasna the way ye guided your gudeman ; but ilka 
 land has its ain lauch. I maun be ganging. I just wanted 
 
120 WAYERLET NOVELS 
 
 to round in the guderaan's lug, that I heard them say up-bye 
 yonder that Peter Puncheon, that was cooper to the Queen's 
 stores at the Timmer Burse at Leith, is dead ; sae I thought 
 that maybe a word frae my lord to the Lord Keeper might 
 hae served Gilbert ; but since he's frae hame " 
 
 "0, but ye maun stay his hame-coming," said the dame. 
 ' I aye telled the gudeman ye meant weel to him ; but he 
 taks the tout at every bit lippening word." 
 
 " Aweel. I'll stay the last minute I can." 
 
 " And so," said the handsome young spouse of Mr. Girder, 
 "ye think this Miss Ashton is weel-favored ? Troth, and sae 
 should she, to set up for our young lord, with a face and a 
 hand, and a seat on his horse, that might become a king's son. 
 D'ye ken that he aye glowers up at my window, Mr. Balder- 
 stone, when he chaunces to ride thro' the town ? Sae I hae 
 a right to ken what like he is, as weel as onybody. 
 
 "I ken that brawly," said Caleb, "for I hae heard his 
 lordship say the cooper's wife had the blackest ee in the barony 
 and I said," ' Weel may that be, my lord, for it was her 
 mither's afore her, as I ken to my cost. ' Eh, Marion ? Ha, 
 ha, ha ! Ah ! these were merry days ! " 
 
 " Hout awa', auld carle," said the old dame, " to speak sic 
 daflEing to young folk. But, Jean — fie, woman, dinna ye hear 
 the bairn greet ? I'se warrant it's that dreary weid has come 
 ower't again." 
 
 Up got mother and grandmother, and scoured away. Jos- 
 tling each other as they ran, into some remote corner of the 
 tenement, where the young hero of the evening was deposited. 
 When Caleb saw the coast fairly clear, he took an invigorating 
 pinch of snuff, to sharpen and confirm his resolution. 
 
 " Cauld be my cast," thought he, "if either Bide-the- 
 Bent or Girder taste that broche of wild-fowl this evening ; " 
 and then addressing the eldest turnspit, a boy of about eleven 
 years old, and putting a penny into his hand, he said, " Here 
 IS twal pennies, my man ; carry that ower to Mrs. Sma'trash, 
 and bid her fill my mill wi'snishing, and I'll turn the broche 
 for ye in the mean time ; and she will gie ye a ginger-bread 
 snap for your pains." 
 
 No sooner was the elder boy departed on this mission than 
 Caleb, looking the remaining turnspit gravely and steadily 
 in the face, removed from the fire the spit bearing the wild- 
 fowl of which he had undertaken the charge, clapped his hat 
 on his head, and fairly marched off with it. He stopped at 
 the door of the change-house only to say, in a few brief 
 words, that Mr. Hayston of Bucklaw was not to expect a bed 
 that evening in tbe castle. 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR 121 
 
 If this message was too briefly delivered by Caleb, it became 
 absolute rudeness when conveyed through the medium of a 
 suburb landlady ; and Bucklaw was, as a more calm and 
 temperate man migiit have been, highly incensed. Captain 
 Orainengelt proposed, with the unanimous applause of all 
 present, that they should course the old fox (meaning Caleb) 
 ere he got to cover, and toss him in a blanket. But Lock- 
 hard intimated to his master's servants and those of Lord 
 Bittlebrains, in a tone of authority, that tlie slightest imper- 
 tinence to the Master of Ravenswood's domestic would give 
 Sir William Ashton the highest offence. And having so said, 
 in a manner sufficient to prevent any aggression on their part, 
 he left the public-house, taking along with him two servants 
 loaded with such provisions as he had been able to procure, 
 and overtook Caleb just when he had cleared the village. 
 
CHAPTEE XIII 
 
 Should I take aught of you ? 'Tis tr' .^ I begged now , 
 And what is worse than that, I stole a kindness ; 
 And, what is worst of all, I lost my way in't. 
 
 Wit without Money. 
 
 The face of the little boy, sole witness of Caleb's infringement 
 upon the laws at once of property and hospitality, would 
 have made a good picture. He sat motionless, as if he had 
 witnessed some of the sj^ectral appearances which he had 
 heard told of in a winter's evening ; and as he forgot his own 
 duty, and allowed his spit to stand still, he added to the mis- 
 fortunes of the evening by suffering the mutton to burn as 
 black as a coal. He was first recalled from his trance of 
 astonishment by a hearty cuff administered by Dame Light- 
 body, who, in wliatever other respects she might conform to her 
 name, was a woman strong of person, and expert in the use of 
 her hands, as some say her deceased husband had known to 
 his cost. 
 
 " What garr'd ye let the roast burn, ye ill-cleckit gude- 
 f or-naught ? " 
 
 "I dinna ken," said the boy. 
 
 "And Where's that ill-deedy gett, Giles ?" 
 
 "I dinna ken," blubbered the astonished declarant. 
 
 "And Where's Mr. Balderstone ? — and abune a', and in 
 the name of council and kirk -session, that I guld say sae, 
 where's the broche wi' the wild-fowl ? " 
 
 As Mrs. Girder here entered, and joined her mother's ex- 
 clamations, screaming into one ear while the old lady deafened 
 the other, they succeeded in so utterly confounding the unhap- 
 py urchin that he could not for some time tell his story at all, 
 and it was only when the elder boy returned that the truth 
 began to dawn on their minds. 
 
 " Weel, sirs," said Mrs. Lightbody, " whawad hae thought 
 o' Caleb Balderstone playing an auld acquaintance sic a 
 pliskie !" 
 
 "0, weary on him !"said the spouse of Mr. Girder ; " and 
 what am I to say to the gudeman ? He'll brain me, if there 
 wasna anither woman in a' Wolf's Hope." 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR 128 
 
 *' Hout tout, silly queen," said the mother ; " na, na, it's 
 come to muckle, but it's no come to that neither ; for an he 
 brain you he maun brain me, and I have garr'd his betters 
 stand back. Hands aff is fair play ; we maunna heed a bit 
 fly ting." 
 
 The tramp of horses now announced the arrival of the 
 cooper, with the minister. They had no sooner dismounted 
 than they made for the kitchen fire, for the evening was cool 
 after the thunderstorm, and the woods wet and dirty. The 
 young gudewife, strong in the charms of her Sunday gown 
 and biggonets, threw herself in the way of receiving the first 
 attack, while her mother, like the veteran division of the 
 Roman legion, remained in the rear, ready to support her in 
 case of necessity. Both hoped to protract the discovery of 
 what had happened — the mother, by interposing her bustling 
 person betwixt Mr. Girder and the fire, and the daughter, by 
 the extreme cordiality with which she received the minister and 
 her husband, and the anxious fears which she expressed lest 
 they should have " gotten cauld." 
 
 "Cauld !" quoth the husband, surlily, for he was not of 
 that class of lords and masters whose wives are viceroys over 
 them, '^' we'll be cauld eneugh, I think, if ye dinna let us in 
 to the fire." 
 
 And so saying, he burst his .way through both lines of de- 
 fence ; and, as he had a careful eye over his property of every 
 kind, he perceived at one glance the absence of the spit with 
 its savory burden. " What the deil, woman " 
 
 "Fie for shame !" exclaimed both the women ; " and be- 
 fore Mr. Bide-the-Bent ! " 
 
 " I stand reproved," said the cooper ; " but " 
 
 " The taking in our mouths the name of the great enemy 
 of our souls," said Mr. Bide-the-Bent 
 
 " I stand reproved," said the cooper, 
 
 " — Is an exposing ourselves to his temptations," continued 
 the reverend monitor, "and an inviting, or, in some sort, a 
 compelling, of him to lay aside his other trafficking with un- 
 happy persons, and wait upon those in whose speech his name 
 is frequent." 
 
 " Weel, weel, Mr. Bide-the-Bent, can a man domairthan 
 stand reproved ?" said the cooper ; " but just let me ask the 
 women what for they hae dished the wild-fowl before we 
 came." 
 
 "They arena dished, Gilbert," said his wife; "but — but 
 an accident " 
 
 " AVhat accident ?" said Girder, with flashing eyes. "Nae 
 ill come ower them, I trust ? Uh ? " 
 
1 34 WA VERLE Y NO VEL , 
 
 His wife, wlio stood much in awe of him, durst not reply, 
 but her mother bustled up to her support, with arms disposed 
 as if they were about to be a-kimbo at the next reply. ''I 
 gied them to an acquaintance of mine, Gibbie Girder ; and 
 Avliat about it now ? " 
 
 Her excess of assurance struck Girder mute for an instant. 
 "And ye gied the wild-fowl, the best end of our christening 
 dinner, to a friend of yours, yeauld rudas ! And what might 
 Ms name be, I pray ye ? " 
 
 ''Just worthy Mr. Caleb Balderstone — frae Wolfs Crag,'' 
 answered Marion, prompt and prepared for battle. 
 
 Girder's wrath foamed over all restraint. If there was a 
 circumstance which could have added to the resentment he 
 felt, it was that this extravagant donation had been made in 
 favor of our friend Caleb, towards whom, for reasons to which 
 the reader is no stranger, he nourished a decided resentment. 
 He raised his riding-wand against the elder matron, but she 
 stood firm, collected in herself, and undauntedly brandished 
 the iron ladle with which she had just been "flambing" {An- 
 glice, basting) the roast of mutton. Her weapon was cer- 
 tainly the better, and her arm not the weakest of the two ; so 
 that Gilbert thought it safest to turn short off upon his wife, 
 who had by this time hatched a sort of hysterical whine, 
 which greatly moved the minister, who was in fact as simple 
 and kind-hearted a creature as ever breathed. "And you, ye 
 thowless jade, to sit still and see my substance disponed upon 
 to an idle, drunken, reprobate, worm-eaten serving-man, just 
 because he kittles the lugs o' a silly auld wife wi' useless 
 clavers, and every twa words a lee ? I'll gar you asgude " 
 
 Here the minister interposed, both by voice and action, 
 while Dame Lightbody threw herself in front of her daughter, 
 and flourished her ladle. 
 
 "Am I no to chastise my ain wife ?"exclaimed the cooper, 
 very indignantly. 
 
 "Ye may chastise your ain wife if ye like," answered Dame 
 Lightbody ; " but ye shall never lay finger on my daughter, 
 and that ye may found upon." 
 
 "For shame, Mr. Girder !" said the clergyman; "this is 
 what I little expected to have seen of you, that you suld give 
 rein to your sinful passions against your nearest and your 
 dearest, and this night too, when ye are called to the most 
 solemn duty of a Christian parent ; and a' for what ? For a 
 redundancy of creature-comforts, as worthless as they are un- 
 needful." 
 
 "Worthless!" exclaimed the cooper. "A better guee 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR 126 
 
 never walkit on stubble ; two finer, dentier wild ducks never 
 wat a feather." 
 
 "Be it sae, neighbor," rejoined the minister ; *' but see 
 what superfluities are yet revolving before your fire. I have 
 seen the day when ten of the bannocks which stand upon that 
 board would have been an acceptable dainty to as many men, 
 that were starving on hills and bogs, and in caves of the earth, 
 for the Gospel's sake." 
 
 ''And that's what vexes me maist of a'," said the cooper, 
 anxious to get some one to sympathize with his not altogether 
 causeless anger ; "an the queen had gien it to ony suffering 
 sant, or to onybody ava but that reaving, lying, oppressing 
 Tory villain, that rade in the wicked troop of militia when 
 it was commanded out against the sants at Bothwell Brig by 
 the auld tyrant Allan Eavenswood, that is gane to his place, 
 I wad the less hae minded it. But to gie the principal part 
 o' the feast to the like o' him !" 
 
 "Aweel, Gilbert," said the minister, "and dinna ye see 
 a high judgment in this ? The seed of the righteous are not 
 seen begging their bread: think of the son of a powerful 
 oppressor being brought to the pass of supporting his house- 
 hold from your fulness." 
 
 " And, besides," said the wife, " it wasna for Lord Ravens- 
 wood neither, an he wad hear but a body speak : it was to 
 help to entertain the Lord Keeper, as they ca' him, that's up 
 yonder at Wolf's Crag." 
 
 " Sir William Ashton at Wolf's Crag !" ejaculated the as- 
 tonished man of hoops and staves. 
 
 " And hand and glove wi' Lord Ravenswood," added Dame 
 Lightbody. 
 
 " Doited idiot ! that auld, clavering sneckdrawer wad gar 
 ye trow the moon is made of green cheese. Tlie Lord Keeper 
 and Ravenswood ! they are cat and dog, hare and hound." 
 
 "I tell ye they are man and wife, and gree better than 
 some others that are sae," retorted the mother-in-law ; "for- 
 bye, Peter Puncheon, that's cooper to the Queen's stores, is 
 dead, and the place is to fill, and " 
 
 " Od guide us, wull ye hand your skirling tongues ! " said 
 Girder, — for we are to remark, that this explanation was 
 given like a catch for two voices, the younger dame, much 
 encouraged by the turn of the debate, taking up and repeating 
 in a higher tone the words as fast as they were uttered by her 
 mother. 
 
 " The gudewife says naething but what's true, maister," 
 said Girder's foreman, who had come in during the fray. "I 
 
136 WA VERLEY NOVELS 
 
 saw the Lord Keeper's servants drinking and driving ower at 
 Luckie Sma'trasli's, ower- bye yonder/' 
 
 " And is their maister up at Wolfs Crag ?"' said Girder. 
 
 *'Ay, troth is he," replied his man of confidence. 
 
 "And friends wi' Ravenswood ? " 
 
 "It's like sae/' answered the foreman, "since he is put- 
 ting up wi' him." 
 
 " And Peter Puncheon's dead ?" 
 
 " Ay, ay. Puncheon has leaked out at last, the auld carle," 
 said the foreman; "mony a dribble o' brandy has gaen 
 through him in his day. But as for the broche and the Avild- 
 fowl, the saddle's no aif your mare yet, maister, and I could 
 follow and bring it back, for Mr. Balderstone's no far aff the 
 town yet." 
 
 " Do say. Will ; and come here, I'll tell ye what to do 
 when ye owertake him." 
 
 He relieved the females of his presence, and gave Will his 
 private instructions. 
 
 "■ A bonny-like thing," said the mother-in-law, as the 
 cooper re-entered the ajDartment, "to send the innocent lad 
 after an armed man, when ye ken Mr. Balderstone aye wears 
 a rapier, and whiles a dirk into the bargain." 
 
 " I trust," said the minister, "ye have reflected weel on 
 what ye have done, lest you should minister cause of strife, of 
 which it is my duty to say, he who affordeth matter, albeit he 
 himself striketh not, is in no manner guiltless." 
 
 "Never' fash your beard, Mr. Bide-the-Bent," replied 
 Grirder ; " ane canna get their breath out here between wives 
 and ministers. I ken best how to turn my ain cake. Jean, 
 serve up the dinner, and nae mair about it." 
 
 Nor did he again allude to the deficiency in the course of 
 the evening. 
 
 Meantime, the foreman, mounted on his master's steed, 
 and charged with his special orders, pricked swiftly forth in 
 pursuit of the maraiider Caleb. That personage, it may be 
 imagined, did not linger by the way. He intermitted even 
 his dearly-beloved chatter, for the purpose of making more 
 haste, only assuring Mr. Lockhard that he had made the 
 purveyor's wife give the wild-fowl a few turns before the fire, 
 in case that Mysie, who had been so much alarmed by the 
 thunder, should not have her kitchen-grate in full splendor^ 
 Meanwhile, alleging the necessity of being at Wolf's Crag as 
 soon as possible, he pushed on so fast that his companions 
 could scarce keep up with him. He began already to think he 
 was safe from pursuit, having gained the summit of the 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR 137 
 
 swelling eminence which divides Wolf's Crag from the village, 
 when he heard the distant tread of a horse, and a voice 
 which shouted at intervals, " Mr. Caleb — Mr. Balderstone — 
 Mr. Caleb Balderstone — hollo — bide a wee ! " 
 
 ■ Caleb, it may be well believed, was in no hurry to acknowl- 
 edge the summons. First, he would not hear it, and faced 
 his companions down, that it was the echo of the wind ; then 
 he said it was not worth stopping for ; and, at length, halting 
 reluctantly, as the figure of the horseman appeared through 
 the shades of the evening, he bent up his whole soul to the 
 task of defending his prey, threw himself into an attitude of 
 dignity, advanced the spit, which in his grasp might with its 
 burden seem both spear and shield, and firmly resolved to die 
 rather than surrender it. 
 
 What was his astonishment, when the cooper's foreman, 
 riding up and addressing him with respect, told him, " His 
 master was very sorry he was absent when he came to his 
 dwelling, and grieved that he could not tarry the christening 
 dinner ; and that he had taen the freedom to send a sma' run- 
 let of sack, and ane anker of brandy, as he understood there 
 were guests at the castle, and that they were short of prepara- 
 tion." 
 
 I have heard somewhere a story of an elderly gentleman 
 who was pursued by a bear that had gotten loose from its 
 muzzle, until completely exhausted. In a fit of desperation, 
 he faced round upon Bruin and lifted his cane ; at the sight 
 of which the instinct of discipline prevailed, and the animal, 
 instead of tearing him to pieces, rose up upon his hind-legs 
 and instantly began to shuffle a saraband. Not less than the 
 joyful surprise of the senior, who had supposed himself in the 
 extremity of peril from which he was thus unexpectedly 
 relieved, was that of our excellent friend Caleb, when he found 
 the pursuer intended to add to his prize, instead of bereaving 
 him of it. He recovered his latitude, however, instantly, so 
 soon as the foreman, stooping from his nag, where he sat 
 perched betwixt the two barrels, whispered in his ear — "If 
 onything about Peter Puncheon's place could be airted their 
 way, John [Gibbie] Girder wad mak it better to the Master 
 of Ravenswood than a pair of new gloves ; and that he wad be 
 blithe to speak wi' Maister Balderstone on that head, and he 
 wad find him as pliant as a hoop-willow in a' that he could 
 wish of him." 
 
 Caleb iieard all this without rendering any answer, except 
 that of all great men from Louis XIV. downwards, namely, 
 " We will see about it : " and then added aloud, for the edifi- 
 
128 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 cation of Mr. Lockliard — " Your master has acted with 
 becoming civility and attention in forwarding the liquors, and 
 I will not fail to represent it properly to my Lord Eavenswood. 
 And, my lad, " he said, " you may ride on to the castle, and 
 if none of the servants are returned, whilk is to be dreaded, 
 as they make day and night of it when they are out of sight, 
 ye may put them into the porter's lodge, whilk is on the right 
 hand of the great entiy ; the porter has got leave to go to see 
 his friends, sae ye will meet no ane to steer ye." 
 
 The foreman, having received his orders, rode on ; and 
 having deposited the casks in the deserted and ruinous porter's 
 lodge, he returned unquestioned by any one. Having thus 
 executed his master's commission, and doffed his bonnet to 
 Caleb and his company as he repassed them in his way to the 
 village, he returned to have his share of the christening fas- 
 ti vity. * 
 
 * See Kaid of Caleb Balderstone. Not« 6. 
 
CHAPTEE XIV 
 
 As, to the Autumn breeze's bugle sound, 
 
 Various and vague the dry leaves dance their round ; 
 
 Or, from the garner-door, on ether borne. 
 
 The chaff flies devious from the winnow'd corn ; 
 
 So vague, so devious, at the breath of heaven, 
 
 From their fix'd aim are mortal counsels driv'n. 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
 We left Caleb Balderstone in the extremity of triumph at the 
 success of his various achievements for the honor of the house 
 of Ravenswood. When he had mustered and marslialled his 
 dishes of divers kinds, a more royal provision had not been 
 seen in Wolf's Crag since the funeral feast of its deceased lord. 
 Great was the glory of the serving-man, as he " decored " the 
 old oaken table with a clean cloth, and arranged upon it car- 
 bonaded venison and roasted wild-fowl, with a glance, every 
 now and then, as if to upbraid the incredulity of his master 
 and his guests ; and with many a story, more or less true, was 
 Lockhard that evening regaled concerning the ancient grand- 
 eur of Wolf's Crag, and the sway of its barons over the country 
 in their neighborhood. 
 
 "A vassal scarce held a calf or a lamb his ain, till he had 
 first asked if the Lord of Ravenswood was pleased to accept 
 it ; and they were obliged to ask the lord's consent before they 
 married in these days, and mony a merry tale they tell about 
 that right as weel as others. And although," said Caleb, 
 " these times are not like the gude old times, when authority 
 had its right, yet true it is, Mr. Lockhard, and you yoursell 
 may partly have remarked, that we of the house of Ravens- 
 wood do our endeavor in keeping up, by all just and lawful 
 exertion of our baronial authority, that due and fitting con- 
 nection betwixt superior and vassal, whilk is in some danger 
 of falling into desuetude, owing to the general license and 
 misrule of these present unhappy times." 
 
 " Umph !" said Mr. Lockhard ; "and if I may inquire, 
 Mr. Balderstone, pray do you find your people at the village 
 yonder amenable ? for I must needs say, that at Ravenswood 
 Castle, now pertaining to my master, the Lord Keeper, ye 
 have not left behind ye the most compliant set of tenantry." 
 
180 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 " A.\\ ! but Mr. Lockhard," replied Caleb, "ye must con- 
 sider tliat there has been a change of hands, and the auld 
 lord might expect twa turns f rae tliem, when the new-comer 
 canna get ane. A dour and fractious set they were, thae 
 tenants of Ravenswood, and ill to live wi' when they dinna 
 ken their master ; and if your master put them mad ance, 
 the whole country will not put them down." 
 
 •• Troth,"' said Mr. Lockhard, "an such be the case, I 
 think the vfisest thing for us a' wad be to hammer up a 
 match between your young lord and our winsome young 
 leddy up-bye there ; and Sir William might just stitch your 
 auld barony to her gown-sleeve, and he wad sune cuitle 
 another out o' somebody else, sic a lang head as he has." 
 
 Caleb shook his head. '"'I wish," he said — " I wish that 
 may answer, Mr. Lockhard. There are auld prophecies about 
 this house I wad like ill to see fulfilled wi' my auld een, that 
 has seen evil eneugh already." 
 
 " Pshaw ! never mind freits," said his brother butler ; "if 
 the young folk liked ane anither, they wad make a winsome 
 couple. But, to say truth, there is a leddy sits in our hall- 
 neuk, maun have her hand in that as weel as in every other 
 job. But there's no harm in drinking to their healths, and 
 I will fill Mrs. Mysie a cup of Mr. Girder's canary." 
 
 While they thus enjoyed themselves in the kitchen, the 
 company in the hall were not less pleasantly engaged. So 
 soon as Eavenswood had determined upon giving the Lord 
 Keeper such hospitality as he had to offer, he deemed it in- 
 cumbent on him to assume the open and courteous brow of a 
 well-pleased host. It has been often remarked, that when a 
 man commences by acting a character, he frequently ends by 
 adopting it in good earnest. In the course of an hour or two, 
 Ravenswood, to his own surprise, found himself in the situa- 
 tion of one who frankly does his best to entertain welcome 
 and honored guests. How much of this change in his dispo- 
 sition was to be ascribed to the beauty and simplicity of Miss 
 Ashton, to the readiness with which she accommodated her- 
 self to the inconveniences of her situation ; how much to 
 the smooth and plausible conversation of the Lord Keeper, 
 remarkably gifted with those words which win the ear, must 
 be left to the reader's ingenuity to conjecture. But Ravens- 
 wood was insensible to neither. 
 
 The Lord Keeper was a veteran statesman, well acqirainted 
 with courts and cabinets, and intimate with all the various 
 *-urns of public affairs during the last eventful years of the 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR 131 
 
 17th century. He could talk, from his own knowledge, of 
 men and events, in a way which failed not to win attention, 
 and had the peculiar art, while he never said a word which 
 committed himself, at the same time to persuade the hearer 
 that he was speaking without the least shadow of scrupulous 
 caution or reserve. Eavenswood, in spite of his prejudices 
 and real grounds of resentment, felt himself at once amused 
 and instructed in listening to him, while the statesman, whose 
 inward feelings had at first so much impeded his efforts to 
 make himself known, had now regained all the ease and 
 fluency of a silver-tongued lawyer of the very highest 
 order. 
 
 His daughter did not speak much, but she smiled ; and 
 what she did say argued a submissive gentleness, and a desire 
 to give pleasure, which, to a proud man like Eavenswood, was 
 more fascinating than the most brilliant wit. Above all, he 
 could not but observe that, whether from gratitude or from 
 some other motive, he himself, in his deserted and unpro- 
 vided hall, was as much the object of respectful attention to 
 his guests as he would have been when surrounded by all the 
 appliances and means of hospitality proper to his high birth. 
 All deficiencies passed unobserved, or, if they did not escape 
 notice, it was to praise the substitutes which Caleb had con- 
 trived to supply the want of the usual accommodations. 
 Where a smile was unavoidable, it was a very good-hu- 
 mored one, and often coujjled with some well-turned compli- 
 ment, to show how much the guests esteemed the merits of their 
 noble A.ost, how little they thought of the inconveniences with 
 which they were surrounded. I am not sure whether the 
 pride of being found to outbalance, in virtue of his own per- 
 sonal merit, all the disadvantages of fortune, did not make 
 as favorable an impression upon the haughty heart of the 
 Master of Eavenswood as the conversation of the father and 
 the beauty of Lucy Ashton. 
 
 The hour of repose arrived. The Keeper and his daugh- 
 ter retired to their apartments, which were " decored " m.ore 
 properly than could have been anticipated. In making the 
 necessary arrangements, Mysie had indeed enjoyed the as- 
 sistance of a gossip who had arrived from the village upon an 
 exploratory expedition, but had been arrested by Caleb, and 
 impressed into the domestic drudgery of the evening ; so 
 that, instead of returning home to describe the dress and 
 person of the grand young lady, she found herself compelled 
 to be active in the domestic economy of Wolf's Crag. 
 
 According to the custom of the time, the Master of Kavens- 
 
138 WAVEELEY NOVELS 
 
 wood attended the Lord Keeper to his apartment, followed 
 by Caleb, who placed on the table, with all the ceremo- 
 nials due to torches of wax, two rudely-framed tallow- 
 candles, such as in those days were only used by the peasantry, 
 hooped in paltry clasps of wire, which served for candlesticks. 
 He then disappeared, and presently entered with two earthen 
 flagons (the china, he said, had b©en little used since my 
 lady's time), one filled with canary wine, the other with 
 brandy.* The canary sack, unheeding all probabilities of 
 detection, he declared had been twenty years in the cellars of 
 Wolf's Crag, 'though it was not for him to speak before 
 their honors ; the brandy — it was weel-kenned liquor, as mild 
 as mead and as strong as Sampson ; it had been in the house 
 ever since the memorable revel, in which auld Micklestob 
 had been slain at the head of the stair by Jamie of Jenkle- 
 brae, on account of the honor of the worshipful Lady 
 Muirend, wha was in some sort an ally of the family ; nathe- 
 less " 
 
 ''But to cut that matter short, Mr. Caleb," said the 
 Keeper, "perhaps you will favor me with a ewer of water." 
 
 " Grod forbid your lordship should drink water in this 
 family," replied Caleb, "to the disgrace of so honorable a 
 house ! " 
 
 " Nevertheless, if his lordship have a fancy," said tlie 
 Master, smiling, "I think you might indulge him; for, if I 
 mistake not, there has been water drunk here at no distant 
 date, ahd with good relish too." 
 
 '' To be sure, if his lordship has a fancy," said Caleb ; and 
 re-entering with a jug of pure element — " He will scarce find 
 such water ony where as is drawn f rae the well at Wolf's Crag ; 
 nevertheless " 
 
 ''Nevertheless, we must leave the Lord Keeper to his re- 
 pose in this poor chamber of ours," said the Master of Eavens- 
 wood, interrupting his talkative domestic, who immediately 
 turning to the doorway, with a profound reverence, prepared 
 to usher his master from the secret chamber. 
 
 But the Lord Keeper prevented his host's departure. 
 "I have but one word to say to the Master of Ravenswood, 
 Mr. Caleb, and I fancy he will excuse your waiting." 
 
 With a second reverence, lower than the former, Caleb 
 withdrew ; and his master stood motionless, expecting, with 
 considerable embarrassment, what was to close the events of 
 a day fraught with unexpected incidents. 
 
 " Master of Ravenswood," said Sir William Ash ton, with 
 
 * Sec Ar.cicnt Hospitality. Note 6. 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR 133 
 
 some embarrassment, '•! hope you understand the Christian 
 law too well to suffer the sun to set upon your anger/' 
 
 The Master blushed and replied, " He had no occasion that 
 evening to exercise the duty enjoined upon him by his 
 Christian faith." 
 
 "I should have thought otherwise," said his guest, *' con- 
 sidering the various subjects of dispute and litigation which 
 have unhappily occurred more frequently than was desirable 
 or necessary betwixt the late honorable lord, your father, and 
 myself." 
 
 "I could wish, my lord," said Ravenswood, agitated by 
 suppressed emotion, ''that reference to these circumstances 
 should be made anywhere rather than under my father's 
 roof." 
 
 •''I should have felt the delicacy of this appeal at another 
 time," said Sir William Ashton, "but now I must proceed 
 with what I mean to say. I have suffered too much in my 
 own mind, from the false delicacy which prevented my solic- 
 iting with earnestness, what indeed I frequently requested, a 
 personal communing with your father : much distress of mind 
 to him and to me might have been prevented." 
 
 " It is true," said Ravenswood, after a moment's reflection, 
 " I have heard my father say your lordship had proposed a 
 personal interview." 
 
 " Proposed, my dear Master ? I did indeed propose it ; 
 but I ought to have begged, entreated, beseeched it. I ought 
 to have torn away the veil which interested persons had 
 stretched betwixt us, and shown myself as I was, willing to 
 sacrifice a considerable part even of my legal rights, in order 
 to conciliate feelings so natural as his must be allowed to have 
 been. Let me say for myself, my young friend, for so I will 
 call you, that had your father and I spent the same time 
 together which my good fortune has allowed me to-day to 
 pass in your company, it is possible the land might yet have 
 enjoyed one of the most respectable of its ancient nobility, 
 and I should have b^^^en spared the pain of parting in enmity 
 from a person whose general character I so much admired and 
 honored." 
 
 He put his handkerchief to his eyes. Ravenswood also was 
 moved, but awaited in silence the progress of this extraordi- 
 nary communication. 
 
 "It is necessary," continued the Lord Keeper, ''and 
 proper that you should understand, that there have been 
 many points betwixt us, in which, although I judged it 
 proper that there should be an exact ascertainment of my 
 
134 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 legal rights by the decree of a conrt of justice, yet it waa 
 never my intention to press them beyond the verge of 
 equity/' 
 
 "My lord/' said the Master of Eavenswood, ''it is un- 
 necessary to pursue this topic farther. What the law will 
 give you, or has given you, you enjoy — or you shall enjoy ; 
 neither my father nor I myself would have received anything 
 on the footing of favor." 
 
 '' Favor ! No, you misunderstand me," resumed the Keep- 
 er ; "or rather you are no lawyer. A right may be good in 
 law, and ascertained to be so, which yet a man of honor may 
 not in every case care to avail himself of." 
 
 "I am sorry for it, my lord/" said the Master. 
 
 " Nay, nay," retorted his guest, " you speak like a young 
 counsellor ; your spirit goes before your wit. There are many 
 things still open for decision betwixt us. Can you blame 
 me, an old man desirous of peace, and in the castle of a young 
 nobleman who has saved my daughter's life and my own, that 
 I am desirous, anxiously desirous, that these should be set- 
 tled on the most liberal principles ? " 
 
 The old man kept fast hold of the Master's passive hand 
 as he spoke, and made it impossible for him, be his predeter- 
 mination what it would, to return any other than an acquies- 
 cent reply ; and wishing his guest good-night, he postponed 
 farther conference until the next morning. 
 
 Eavenswood hurried into the hall, where he was to spend 
 the night, and for a time traversed its pavement with a dis- 
 ordered and rapid pace. His mortal foe was under his roof, 
 yet his sentiments towards him were neither those of a feudal 
 enemy nor of a true Christian. He felt as if he could neither 
 forgive him in the one character, nor follow forth his vengeance 
 in the other, but that he was making a base and dishonorable 
 composition betwixt his resentment against the father and 
 his affection for his daughter. He cursed himself, as he 
 hurried to and fro in the pale moonlight, and more ruddy 
 gleams of the expiring wood-fire. He threw _ open_ and shut 
 the latticed windows with violence, as if alike impatient of the 
 admission and exclusion of free air. At length, however, 
 the torrent of passion foamed off its madness, and he flung 
 himself into the chair which he proposed as his place of repose 
 for the night. 
 
 " If, in reality," such were the calmer thoughts that fol- 
 lowed the first tempest of his passion—" if, in reality, this 
 man desires no more than the law allows him — if he is willing 
 to adjust even his acknowledged rights upon an equitable 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR 185 
 
 footing, what could be my father's cause of complaint ? — 
 what is mine ? Those from whom we won our ancient pos- 
 sessions fell under the sword of my ancestors, and left lands 
 and livings to the conquerors ; we sink under the force of the 
 law, now too powerful for the Scottish chivalry. Let us par- 
 ley with the victors of the day, as if we had been besieged in 
 our fortress, and without hope of relief. This man may be 
 other than I have thought him ; and his daughter — but I 
 have resolved not to think of her." 
 
 He wrapped his cloak around him, fell asleep, and 
 dreamed of Lucy Ashton till daylight gleamed through the 
 lattices 
 
CHAPTER XV 
 
 We worldly men, when we see friends and kinsmen 
 Past hope sunk in their fortunes, lend no hand 
 To lift them up, but rather set our feet 
 Upon their heads to press them to the bottom. 
 As I must yield with you I practised it ; 
 But now I see you in a way to rise, 
 I can and wiU assist you. 
 
 New Way to pay Old Debts. 
 
 The Lord Keeper carried with him, to a conch harder than he 
 was accustomed to stretch himself upon, the same ambitious 
 thoughts and political perplexities which drive sleep from the 
 softest down that ever spread a bed of state. He had sailed 
 long enough amid the contending tides and currents of the 
 time to be sensible of their peril, and of the necessity of 
 trimming his vessel to the prevailing wind, if he would have 
 her escape shipwreck in the storm. The nature of his talents, 
 and the timorousness of disposition connected with them, had 
 made him assume the pliability of the versatile old Earl of 
 Northampton, who explained the art by wliich he kept his 
 ground during all the changes of state, from the reign of 
 Henry VIII. to that of Elizabeth, by the frank avowal, that 
 he was born of the willov/, not of the oak. It had accordingly 
 been Sir William Ashton^s policy, on all occasions, to watch 
 the changes in the political horizon, and, ere yet the conflict 
 was decided, to negotiate some interest for himself with the 
 party most likely to prove victorious. His time-serving dis- 
 position was well known, and excited the contempt of the 
 more daring leaders of both factions in the state. But his 
 talents were of a useful and practical kind, and his legal 
 knowledge held in high estimation ; and they so far counter- 
 balanced other deficiencies that those in power were glad to 
 use and to reward, though without absolutely trusting or 
 greatly respecting, him. 
 
 The Marquis of A had used his utmost influence to 
 
 effect a change in the Scottish cabinet, and his schemes had 
 been of late so well laid and so ably supported, that there 
 appeared a very great chance of his proving ultimately suc- 
 
 236, 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR 137 
 
 cessf ul. He did uot, however, feel so strong or so confident 
 us to neglect any means of drawing recruits to his standard. 
 The acquisition of the Lord Keeper was deemed of some 
 importance, and a friend, perfectly acquainted with his cir- 
 cumstances and character, became responsible for his political 
 conversion. 
 
 When this gentleman arrived at Eavenswood Castle upon 
 a visit, the real purpose of wliich was disguised under general 
 courtesy, he found the prevailing fear which at present beset 
 the Lord Keeper was that of danger to his own person from 
 the Master of Ravenswood. The language which the blind 
 sibyl, Old Alice, had used ; the sudden appearance of the 
 Master, armed, and within his precincts, immediately after 
 he had been warned against danger from him ; the cold and 
 liaughty return received in exchange for the acknowledg- 
 ments with which he loaded him for his timely protection, 
 had all made a strong imjDression on his imagination. 
 
 So soon as the Marquis's political agent found how the 
 wind sat, he began to insinuate fears and doubts of another 
 kind, scarce less calculated to alTect the Lord Keeper. He 
 inquired with seeming interest, Avhether the proceedings in 
 Sir William's complicated litigation with the Ravenswood 
 family were out of court, and settled without the possibility 
 of appeal. The Lord Keeper answered in the affirmative ; 
 but his interrogator was too well informed to be imposed upon. 
 He pointed out to him, by unanswerable arguments, that 
 some of the most important points which had been decided 
 in his favor against the house of Ravenswood were liable, 
 under the Treaty of Union, to be reviewed by the British 
 House of Peers, a court of equity of which the Lord Keeper 
 felt an instinctive dread. This course came instead of an 
 appeal to the old Scottish Parliament, or, as it was technically 
 termed, "a protestation for remeid in law. " 
 
 The Lord Keeper, after he had for some time disputed the 
 legality of such a proceeding, was compelled, at length, to 
 comfort himself with the improbability of the young Master 
 of Ravenswood's finding friends in parliament capable of 
 stirring in so weighty an affair. 
 
 "Do not comfort yourself with that false hope, " said his 
 wily friend ; "it is possible that, in the next, session of Parlia- 
 ment, young Ravenswood may find more friends and favor 
 even than your lordship." 
 
 "That would be a sight worth seeing," said the Keeper, 
 scornfully. 
 
 ''And yet," said his friend, " such things have been seen 
 
138 W AVE RLE Y NOVELS 
 
 ere now, and in our own time. There are many at the head 
 of alfairs even now that a few years ago were under hiding 
 for tlieir lives ; and many a man now dines on plate of silver 
 that was fain to eat his crowdy without a bicker ; and many 
 a high head has been brought full low among us in as short 
 a space. Scott of Scotstarvet's Staggering State of Scots 
 Statesmen, of which curious memoir you showed me a manu- 
 script, has been outstaggered in our time." 
 
 The Lord Keeper answered with a deep sigh, "That 
 these mutations were no new sights in Scotland, and had been 
 witnessed long before the time of the satirical author he had 
 quoted. It was many a long year," he said, "^ since Fordun 
 had quoted as an ancient proverb, ' Neque dives, neque for- 
 tis, sed nee sapiens Scotus, prcedominante invidia, diu du- 
 rahit in terra.'" 
 
 " And be assured, my esteemed friend," was the answer, 
 " that even your long services to the state, or deep legal 
 knowledge, will not save you, or render your estate stable, if 
 
 the Marquis of A comes in with a party in the British 
 
 Parliament. You know that the deceased Lord Eavenswood 
 was his near ally, his lady being fifth in descent from the 
 Knight of Tillibardine ; and I am well assured that he will 
 take young Eavenswood by the hand, and be his very good 
 lord and kinsman. Why should he not ? The Master is an 
 active and stirring young fellow, able to help himself with 
 tongue and hands ; and it is such as he that finds friends 
 among their kindred, and not those unarmed and unable Me- 
 phibosheths that are sure to be a burden to every one that 
 takes them up. And so, if these Eavenswood cases be called 
 over the coals in the House of Peers, you will find that the 
 Marquis will have a crow to pluck with you." 
 
 " That would be an evil requital," said the Lord Keeper, 
 " for my long services to the state, and the ancient respect in 
 which I have held his lordship^s honorable family and per- 
 son." 
 
 '^'^ Ay, but," rejoined the agent of the Marquis, ''it is in 
 rain to look back on past service and auld respect, my lord ; 
 it will be present service and immediate proofs of regard 
 which, in these sliddery times, will be expected by a man 
 like the Marquis." 
 
 The Lord Keeper now saw the full drift of his friend's 
 argument, but he was too cautious to return any positive 
 answer. 
 
 " He knew not," he said, "the service which the Lord 
 Marquis could expect from one of his limited abilities, that 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR 138 
 
 had not always stood at his command, still saving and re- 
 serving his duty to his king and country." 
 
 Having thus said nothing, while he seemed to say every- 
 thing, for the exception was calculated to cover whatever he 
 might afterwards think proper to bring under it. Sir William 
 Ashton changed the conversation, nor did he agaiii permit 
 the same topic to be introduced. His guest departed, with- 
 out having brought the wily old statesman the length of com- 
 mitting himself, or of pledging himself to any future line of 
 conduct, but with the certainty that he had alarmed his fears 
 in a most sensible point, and laid a foundation for future and 
 farther treaty. 
 
 When he rendered an account of his negotiation to the 
 Marquis, they both agreed that the Keeper ought not to be 
 permitted to relapse into security, and that he should be 
 plied with new subjects of alarm, especially during the ab- 
 sence of his lady. They were well aware that her proud, 
 vindictive, and predominating spirit would be likely to supply 
 him with tiie courage in which he was deficient ; that she 
 was immovably attached to the party now in power, with whom 
 she maintained a close correspondence and alliance ; and that 
 she hated, without fearing, the Eavenswood family (whose 
 more ancient dignity threw discredit on the newly-acquired 
 grandeur of her husband) to such a degree, that she would 
 have perilled the interest of her own house to have the pros- 
 pect of altogether crushing that of her enemy. 
 
 But Lady Ashton was now absent. The business which 
 had long detained her in Edinburgh had afterwards induced 
 her to travel to London, not without the hope that she might 
 contribute her share to disconcert the intrigues of the Marquis 
 at court ; for she stood high in favor with the celebrated Sarah 
 Duchess of Marlborougli, to whom, in point of character, she 
 bore considerable resemblance. It was necessary to press her 
 husband hard before her return ; and, as a preparatory step, 
 the Marquis wrote to the Master of Eavenswood the letter 
 which we rehearsed in a former chapter. It was cautiously 
 worded, so as to leave it in the power of the writer hereafter 
 to take as deep or as slight an interest in the fortunes of his 
 kinsman as the progress of his own schemes might require. 
 But however unwilling, as a statesman, the Marquis might 
 be to commit himself, or assume the character of a patron, 
 while he had nothing to give away, it must be said to his 
 honor that he felt a strong inclination effectually to befriend 
 the Master of Eavenswood, as well as to use his name as a 
 means of alarming the terrors of the Lord Keeper. 
 
140 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 As the messenger wlio carried this letter was to pass near 
 the house of the Lord Keeper, he had it in direction that, in 
 the village adjoining to the park-gate of the castle, his horse 
 should lose a shoe, and that, while it was replaced by the 
 smith of the place, he should express the utmost regret for 
 the necessary loss of time, and in the vehemence of his im- 
 patience give it to be understood that he was bearing a mes- 
 sage from the Marquis of A to the Master of Ravenswood 
 
 upon a matter of life and death. 
 
 This news, with exaggerations, was speedily carried from 
 various quarters to the ears of the Lord Keeper, and each re- 
 porter dwelt upon the extreme impatience of the courier, 
 and the surprising short time in which he had executed his 
 journey. The anxious statesman heard in silence ; but in 
 private Lockhard received orders to watch the courier on his 
 return, to waylay him in the village, to ply him with liquor, 
 if possible, and to use all means, fair or foul, to learn the 
 contents of the letter of which he was the bearer. But as 
 this i^lot had been foreseen, the messenger returned by a dif- 
 ferent and distant road, and thus escaped the snare that was 
 laid for him. 
 
 After he had been in vain expected for some time, Mr. 
 Dingwall had orders to make especial inquiry among his 
 clients of Wolf's Hope, whether such a domestic belonging to 
 
 the Marquis of A had actually arrived at the neighboring 
 
 castle. This was easily ascertained ; for Caleb had been in 
 the village one morning by five o'clock, to borrow "twa chap- 
 pins of ale and a kipper " for the messenger's refreshment, and 
 the poor fellow had been ill for twenty-four hours at Luckie 
 Sma'trash's, in consequence of dining upon "sautsaumon and 
 sour drink." So that the existence of a correspondence 
 betwixt the Marquis and his distressed kinsman, which Sir 
 William Ashton had sometimes treated as a bugbear, was proved 
 beyond the possibility of farther doubt. 
 
 The alarm of the Lord Keeper became very serious ; since 
 the Claim of Right, the power of appealing from the decisions 
 of the civil court to the Estates of Parliament, which had 
 formerly been held incompetent, had in many instances been 
 claimed, and in some allowed, and he had no small reason to 
 apprehend the issue, if the English House of Lords should be 
 disposed to act upon an appeal from the Master of Ravenswood 
 "for remeid in law." It would resolve into an equitable 
 claim, and be decided, perhaps, upon the broad principles of 
 justice, which were not quite so favorable to the Lord Keeper 
 as those of strict law. Besides, judging, though most inac- 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR 141 
 
 curately, from courts which lie hud liimself known in the un- 
 happy times preceding the Scottish Union, the Keeper might 
 have too much right to think that, in the House to which his 
 lawsuits were to be transferred, the old maxim might prevail 
 which was too well recognized in Scotland in former times — 
 ''Show me the man, and I'll show you the law." The high 
 and unbiassed character of English judicial proceedings was 
 then little known in Scotland, and tlie extension of them to 
 that country was one of the most valuable advantages which it 
 gained by the Union. But this was a blessing which the Lord 
 Keeper, who had lived under another system, could not have 
 the means of foreseeing. In the loss of his political conse- 
 quence, he anticipated the loss of his lawsuit. Meanwhile^ 
 every report which reached him served to render the success* 
 of the Marquis's intrigues the more probable, and the Lord 
 Keeper began to think it indispensable that he should look 
 round for some kind of protection against the coming storm. 
 The timidity of his temper induced him to adopt measures oi 
 compromise and conciliation. The affair of the wild bull, 
 properly managed, might, he thought, be made to facilitate a 
 personal communication and reconciliation betwixt the Master 
 and himself. He would then learn, if possible, what his own 
 ideas were of the extent of his rights, and the means of en- 
 forcing them ; and perhaps matters might be brought to a 
 compromise, where one party was wealthy and the other so 
 very poor. A reconciliation with Ravenswood was likely to 
 give him an opportunity to play his own game with the Mar- 
 quis of A . " And besides," said he to himself, " it will 
 
 be an act of generosity to raise up the heir of this distressed 
 family ; and if he is to be warmly and effectually befriended 
 by the new government, who knows but my virtue may prove 
 its own reward ? " 
 
 Thus thought Sir William Ashton, covering with no un- 
 usual self-delusion his interested views with a hue of virtue ; 
 and having attained this point, his fancy strayed still farther. 
 He began to bethink himself, "That if Ravenswood was to 
 have a distinguished place of power and trust, and if such a 
 union would sopite the heavier part of his unadjusted claims, 
 there might be worse matches for his daughter Lucy : the 
 Master might be reponed against the attainder. Lord 
 Ravenswood was an ancient title, and the alliance would, in 
 some measure, legitimate his own possession of the greater 
 part of the Master's spoils, and make the surrender of the 
 rest a subject of less bitter regret." 
 
 With these mingled and multifarious plans occupying his 
 
143 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 head, the Lord Keeper availed himself of my Lord Bittle- 
 brains's repeated invitation to his residence, and thus came 
 within a very few miles of Wolf's Crag. Here he found the 
 lord of the mansion absent, but was courteously received by 
 the lady, who expected her husband's immediate return. 
 She expressed her particular delight at seeing Miss Ashton, 
 and appointed the hounds to be taken out for the Lord 
 Keeper's special amusement. He readily entered into the 
 proposal, as giving him an opportunity to reconnoitre Wolf's 
 Crag, and perhaps to make some acquaintance with the owner, 
 if he should be tempted from his desolate mansion by the 
 chase. Lockhard had his orders to endeavor on his part to 
 make some acquaintance Avith the inmates of the castle, and 
 we have seen how he played his part. 
 
 The accidental storm did more to further the Lord 
 Keeper's plan of forming a j^ersonal acquaintance with young 
 Raveuswood than his most sanguine expectations could have 
 anticipated. His fear of the young nobleman's personal re- 
 sentment had greatly decreased since he considered him as 
 formidable from his legal claims and the means he might have 
 of enforcing them. But although he thought, not unreason- 
 ably, that only desperate circumstances drove men on desper- 
 ate measures, it was not without a secret terror, which shook 
 his heart within him, that he first felt himself inclosed with- 
 in the desolate Tower of Wolf's Crag ; a place so well fitted, 
 from solitude and strength, to be a scene of violence and 
 vengeance. The stern reception at first given to them by the 
 Master of Eavenswood, and the difficulty he felt in explaining 
 to that injured nobleman what guests were under the shelter 
 of his roof, did not soothe these alarms ; so that, when Sir 
 William Ashton heard the door of the courtyard shut behind 
 him with violence, the words of Alice rung in his ears, '' That 
 he had drawn on matters too hardly with so fierce a race as 
 those of Eavenswood, and that they would bide their time to 
 be avenged." 
 
 The subsequent frankness of the Master's hospitality, as 
 their acquaintance increased, abated the apprehensions these 
 recollections were calculated to excite ; and it did not escape 
 Sir William Ashton, that it was to Lucy's grace and beauty 
 he owed the change in their host's behavior. 
 
 All these thoughts thronged upon him when he took pos- 
 session of the secret chamber. The iron lamp, the unfur- 
 nished apartment, more resembling a prison than a place of 
 ordinary repose, the hoarse and ceaseless sound of the waves 
 rushing against the base of the rock on which the castle was 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR 148 
 
 founded, saddened and perplexed his mind. To hi.^ own 
 successful machinations, the ruin of the family liad been in a 
 great measure owing, but his disposition was crafty, and not 
 cruel ; so tliat actually to witness the desolation and distress 
 he had himself occasioned was as painful to him as it would 
 be to tlie humane mistress of a family to superintend in person 
 the execution of the lambs and poultry which are killed by 
 her own directions. At the same time, when he thought of 
 the alternative of restoring to Ravenswood a large p^-oportion 
 of his spoils, or of adopting, as an ally and member of his 
 own family, the heir of this impoverished house, he felt as 
 the spider may be supposed to do when his whole web, the 
 intricacies of which had been planned with so much art, is 
 destroyed by the chance sweep of a broom. And then, if he 
 should commit himself too far in this matter, it gave rise to 
 a perilous question, which many a good husband, when under 
 temptation to act as a free agent, has asked himself without 
 being able to return a satisfactory answer — " What will my 
 wife — what will Lady Ashton say ?" On the whole, he came 
 at length to the resolution in which minds of a weaker cast 
 so often take refuge. He resolved to watch events, to take 
 advantage of circumstances as they occurred, and regulate 
 his conduct accordingly. In this spirit of temporizing policy, 
 he at length composed his mind to rest. 
 
CHAPTER XVI 
 
 A slight note I have about me for you, for the delivery of which 
 you must excuse me. It is an offer that friendship calls upon 
 me to do, and no way offensive to you, since I desire nothing 
 but right upon both sides. 
 
 King and no King. 
 
 When Ravenswood and his gnest met in the morning, the 
 gloom of the Master^s spirit had in part returned. He, also, 
 had passed a night rather of reflection than of slumber ; and 
 the feelings which he could not but entertain towards Lucy 
 Ashton had to support a severe conflict against those which 
 he had so long nourished against her father. To clasp in 
 friendship the hand of the enemy of his house, to entertain 
 him under his roof, to exchange with him the courtesies and 
 the kindness of domestic familiarity, was a degradation which 
 his proud spirit could not be bent to without a struggle. 
 
 But the ice being once broken, the Lord Keeper was re- 
 solved it should not have time again to freeze. It had been 
 part of his plan to stun and confuse Ravenswood^s ideas, by 
 a complicated and technical statement of the matters which 
 had been in debate betwixt their families, justly thinking that 
 it would be difficult for a youth of his age to follow the ex- 
 positions of a practical lawyer, concerning actions of compt 
 and reckoning, and of multiplepoindings, and adjudications 
 and wadsets, proper and improper, and poindings of the 
 ground, and declarations of the expiry of the legal. "Thus," 
 thought Sir William, " I shall have all the grace of appearing 
 perfectly communicative, while my party will derive very little 
 advantage from anything I may tell him." He therefore took 
 Ravenswood aside into the deep recess of a window in the 
 hall, and resuming the discourse of the preceding evening, 
 expressed a hope that his young friend would assume some 
 patience, in order to hear him enter into a minute and ex- 
 planatory detail of those unfortunate circumstances in which 
 his late honorable father had stood at variance with the Lord 
 Keeper. The Master of Ravenswood colored highly, but was 
 silent ; and the Lord Keeper, though not greatly approving 
 the sudden heightening of his auditor's complexion, com- 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR 143 
 
 menced the history of a bond for twenty thousand nierks, ad- 
 vanced by his father to the father of Allan Lord Ravens wood, 
 and was proceedirig to detail the executorial proceedings by 
 which this large sum had been rendered a debitum fundi, 
 when he was interrupted by the Master, 
 
 '' It is not in this place/' he said, " that I can hear Sir 
 William Asliton's explanation of the matters in question be- 
 tween us. It is not here, where my father died of a broken 
 heart, that 1 can with decency or temper investigate the cause 
 of his distress. I might remember that I was a son, and for- 
 get the duties of a host. A time, however, there must come, 
 when these things shall be discussed in a place and in a pres- 
 ence where both of us will have equal freedom to speak and 
 to liear." 
 
 " Any time," the Lord Keeper said, " any place, was alike 
 to those who sought nothing but justice. Yet it would seem 
 he was, in fairness, entitled to some premonition respecting 
 the grounds upon which the Master proposed to impugn the 
 whole train of legal proceedings, which had been so well and 
 ripely advised in the only courts competent." 
 
 " Sir William Ashton," answered the Master, with warmth, 
 ''the lauds which you now occupy were granted to my remote 
 ancestor for services done with his sword against the Englisli 
 invaders. How they have glided from us by a train of pro 
 ceedings that seem to be neither sale, nor mortgage, nor ad- 
 judication for debt, but a nondescript and entangled mixture 
 of all tliese rights ; how annual rent has been accumulated 
 upon principal, and no nook or coign of legal advantage left 
 unaccLipied, until our interest in our hereditary property seems 
 to have melted away like an icicle in thaw — all this you un- 
 derstand better than I do. I am willing, however, to suppose,, 
 from the frankness of your conduct towards me, that I may 
 in a great measure have mistaken your personal character, and 
 that things may have appeared right and fitting to you, a 
 skilful and practiced lawyer, which to my ignorant under- 
 standing seem very little short of injustice and gross oppres- 
 sion." 
 
 ''And you, my dear Master," answered Sir William — 
 " you, permit me to say, have been equally misrepresented 
 to me. I was taught to believe you a fierce, imperious, hot- 
 headed youth, ready, at the slightest provocation, to throw 
 your sword into the scales of justice, and to appeal to those 
 rude and forcible measures from which civil polity has long 
 protected the people of Scotland. Then, since we were mu- 
 tually mistaken in each other, why should not the young 
 
146 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 nobleman be willing to listen to the old lawyer, while, at least, 
 he explains the points of dilference betwixt them ? " 
 
 •'No, my lord," answered Ravenswood ; "it is in the 
 House of British Peers,* whose honor must be equal to their 
 rank — it is in the court of last resort that we must parley to- 
 gether. The belted lords of Britain, her ancient peers, must 
 decide, if it is their will that a liouse, not the least noble of 
 their members, shall be stripped of their possessions, the re- 
 ward of the patriotism of generations, as the pawn of a 
 wretched mechanic becomes forfeit to the usurer the instant 
 the hour of redemption has passed away. If they yield to the 
 grasping severity of the creditor, and to the gnawing usury 
 that eats into our lands as moths into a raiment, it will be of 
 more evil consequence to tliem and their posterity than to Ed- 
 gar Ravenswood. I shall still have my sword and my cloak, 
 and can follow the profession of arms wherever a trumpet 
 shall sound."' 
 
 As he pronounced these words, in a firm yet melancholy 
 tone, he raised his eyes, and suddenly encountered those of 
 Lucy Ashton, who had stolen unawares on their interview, 
 and observed her looks fastened on them with an expression 
 of enthusiastic interest and admiration, which had wrapped her 
 for the moment beyond the fear of discovery. The noble form 
 and fine features of Ravenswood, fired with the pride of birth 
 and sense of internal dignity, the mellow and expressive tones 
 of his voice, the desolate state of his fortunes, and the indif- 
 ference with which he seemed to endure and to dare the worst 
 that might befall, rendered him a dangerous object of con- 
 templation for a maiden already too much disposed to dwell 
 upon recollections connected with him. When their eyes en- 
 countered each other, both blushed deeply, conscious of some 
 strong internal emotion, and shunned again to meet each 
 other's look. 
 
 Sir William Ashton had, of course, closely watched the 
 expression of their countenances. "I need fear," said he in- 
 ternally, ''neither Parliament nor protestation; I have an 
 effectual mode of reconciling myself with this hot-tempered 
 young fellow, in case he shall become formidable. The present 
 object is, at all events, to avoid committing ourselves. The 
 hook is fixed ; we will not strain the line too soon : it is as 
 well to reserve the privilege of slipping it loose, if we do not 
 find the fish worth landing." 
 
 In this selfish and cruel calculation upon the supposed at- 
 tachment of Ravenswood to Lucy, he was so far from consid- 
 
 * See Appeal to Parliament. Note 7. 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR 147 
 
 ering the pain he might give to the former, by thus dallying 
 with his affections, that he even did not think upon the risk 
 of involving his own daughter in the perils of an unfortunate 
 passion ; as if her predilection, which could not escape his 
 attention, Avere like the flame of a taper, which might be 
 lighted or extinguished at pleasure. But Providence had 
 prepared a dreadful requital for this keen observer of human 
 passions, who had spent his life in securing advantages to 
 himself by artfully working upon the passions of others, 
 
 Caleb Balderstone now came to aniiounce that breakfast 
 was prepared ; for in those days of substantial feeding, the 
 relics of the supper amply furnished forth the morning meal. 
 Neither did he forget to present to the Lord Keeper, with 
 great reverence, a morning draught in a large pewter cup, 
 garnished with leaves of parsley and scurvy-grass. He craved 
 pardon, of course, for having omitted to serve it in the great 
 silver standing.cup as behoved, being that it was at present 
 in a silversmith's in Edinburgh, for the purpose of being 
 overlaid with gilt. 
 
 "" In Edinburgh like enough,'' said Eavenswood ; " but in 
 what place, or for what purpose, I am afraid neither you nor 
 .1 know." 
 
 " Aweel !"said Caleb, peevishly, "there's a man standing 
 at the gate already this m©rning — that's ae thing that I ken. 
 Does your honor ken whether ye will speak wi' him or no ?" 
 
 ''Does he wish to speak with nae, Caleb ?" 
 
 ''Less will no serve him," said Caleb ; "but ye had best 
 take a visie of him through the wicket before opening the 
 gate ; it's no every ane we suld let into this castle." 
 
 " What ! do you suppose him to be a messenger come to 
 arrest me for debt ? " said Eavenswood. 
 
 "A messenger arrest your honor for debt, and in yonr 
 Castle of AVolf's Crag ! Your honor is Jesting wi' auld Caleb 
 this morning." However, he whispered in his ear, as he fol- 
 lowed him out, "I would be loth co do ony decent man a 
 prejudice in your honor's gude opinion ; but I would tak twa 
 looks o' that chield before I let him within these walls." 
 
 He was not an officer of the law, however ; being no less 
 a person than Captain Craigengelt, with his nose as red as a 
 comfortable cup of brandy could make it, his laced cocked 
 hat set a little aside upon the top of his black riding periwig, 
 a sword by his side and pistols at his holsters, and his person 
 arrayed in a riding suit, laid over with tarnished lace — the 
 7ery moral of one who would say, " Stand to a true man." 
 
 When the Master had recognized him, he ordered the gates 
 
148 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 to be opened. " I suppose," he said, " Captain Craigengelt, 
 there are no such weighty matters betwixt you and me, but 
 may be discussed in this place. I have company in the castle 
 at present, and the terms upon which we last parted must 
 excuse my asking you to make part of them." 
 
 Craigengelt, although possessing the very perfection of 
 impudence, was somewhat abashed by this unfavorable recep- 
 tion. "He had no intention," he said, "to force himself 
 upon the Master of Ravenswood's hospitality ; he was in the 
 honorable service of bearing a message to him from a friend, 
 otherwise the Master of Ravenswood should not have had 
 reason to complain of this intrusion." 
 
 "Let it be short, sir," said the Master, "for that will be 
 the best apology. Who is the gentleman who is so fortunate 
 as to have your services as a messenger ? " 
 
 " My friend, Mr. Hayston of Bucklaw," answered Craig- 
 engelt, with conscious importance, and that copfidence which 
 the acknowledged courage of his principal inspired, " who 
 conceives himself to have been treated by you with something 
 much short of the respect which he had reason to demand, 
 and therefore is resolved to exact satisfaction. I bring with 
 me," said he, taking a piece of paper out of his pocket, " the 
 precise length of his sword ; and he requests you will meet 
 him, accompanied by a friend, and equally armed, at any place 
 within a mile of the castle, when I shall give attendance aa 
 umpire, or second, on his behoof." 
 
 "Satisfaction! and equal arms !" repeated Ravenswood, 
 who, the reader will recollect, had no reason to suppose he 
 had given the slightest offence to his late inmate ; " upon my 
 word, Captain Craigengelt, either you have invented the most 
 improbable falsehood that ever came into the mind of such a 
 person, or your morning draught has been somewhat of the 
 strongest. What could persuade Bucklaw to send me such a 
 message ?" 
 
 "For that, sir," replied Craigengelt, "I am desired to 
 refer you to what, in duty to my friend, I am to term your 
 inhospitality in excluding him from your house, without 
 reasons assigned." 
 
 " It is impossible," replied the Master; "he cannot be 
 such a fool as to interpret actual necessity as an insult. Nor 
 do I believe that, knowing my opinion of you. Captain, he 
 would have employed the services of so slight and inconsider- 
 able a person as yourself upon such an errand, as I certainly 
 could expect no man of honor to act with you in the ofl&ce of 
 ampire. 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMER3I00R 148 
 
 "I slight and inconsiderable !" said Craigengelt, raising 
 his voice, and laying his hand on his cutlass ; ** if it were not 
 that the quarrel of my friend craves the precedence, and is in 
 dependence before my own, I would give you to under- 
 stand " 
 
 " I can understand nothing upon your explanation. Cap- 
 tain Craigengelt. Be satisfied of that, and oblige me with 
 your departure/^ 
 
 " D n !" muttered the bully ; '''and is this the answer 
 
 which I am to carry back to an honorable message ? " 
 
 " Tell the Laird of Bucklaw," answered Eavenswood, " if 
 you are really sent by him, that, when he sends me his cause 
 of grievance by a person fitting to carry such an errand be- 
 twixt him and me, I will either explain it or maintain \i." 
 
 "Then, Master, you will at least cause to be returned to 
 Hayston, by my hands, his property which is remaining in 
 your possession." 
 
 " Whatever property Bucklaw may have left behind him, 
 sir," replied the Master, "shall be returned to him by my 
 servant, as you do not show me any credentials from him 
 which entitle you to receive it." 
 
 " Well, Master," said Captain Craigengelt, with malice 
 which even his fear of the consequences could not suppress, 
 *'you have this morning done me an egregious wrong and 
 dishonor, but far more to yourself. A castle indeed!" he 
 continued, looking around him ; "why, this is worse than a 
 coupe-gorge house, where they receive travellers to plunder 
 them of their property." 
 
 "You insolent rascal," said the Master, raising his cane, 
 and making a grasp at the Captain^s bridle, " if you do not 
 depart without uttering another syllable, I will batoon you 
 to death ! " 
 
 At the motion of the Master towards him, the bully turned 
 BO rapidly round, that with some difficulty he escaped throw- 
 ing down his horse, whose hoofs struck fire from the rocky 
 pavement in every direction. Eecovering him, however, 
 with the bridle, he pushed for the gate, and rode sharply back 
 tigain in the direction of the village. 
 
 As Ravenswood turned round to leave the courtyard after 
 this dialogue, he found that the Lord Keeper had descended 
 from the hall, and witnessed, though at the distance prescribed 
 by politeness, his interview with Craigengelt. 
 
 "I have seen," said the Lord Keeper, "that gentleman^i 
 face, and at no great distance of time ; his name is Craig — 
 Craig — something, is it not ? " 
 
150 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 " Craigengelt is the fellow's name/' said the Master, ^'at 
 least that by which he passes at present/' 
 
 " Ci*aig-in-guilt/' said Caleb, punning upon the word 
 '' craig," which in Scotch signifies throat ; ''if he is Craig-in- 
 guilt just now, he is likely to be Craig-iu-peril as ony chield I 
 ever saw ; the loon has woodie written on his very visnoniy, 
 and I wad wager twa and a plack that hemp plaits his cravat 
 yet/' 
 
 "You understand physiognomy, good Mr. Caleb," said 
 the Keeper, smiling ; "I assure you the gentleman has been 
 near such a consummation before now ; for I most distinctly 
 recollect that, upon occasion of a journey which I made about 
 a fortnight ago to Edinburgh, I saw Mr. Craigengelt, or 
 whatever is his name, undergo a severe examination before 
 the privy council." 
 
 " Upon what account ?" said the Master of Ravenswood, 
 with some interest. 
 
 The question led immediately to a tale which the Lord 
 Keeper had been very anxious to introduce, when he could 
 find a graceful and fitting opportunity. He took hold of the 
 Master's arm, and led him back towards the hall. "The 
 answer to your question," he said, " though it is a ridiculous 
 business, is only fit for your own ear." 
 
 As they entered the hall, he again took the Master apart 
 into one of the recesses of the window, where it will be easilji 
 believed that Miss Ashton did not venture again to intrude 
 upon their conference. 
 
CHAPTER XVn 
 
 Here is a father now, 
 Will truck hia daughter for a foreign venture, 
 Make her the stop-gap to some canker'd feud. 
 Or fling her o'er, like Jonah, to the fishes, 
 To appease the sea at highest. 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
 The Lord Keeper opened his discourse with an appearance of 
 unconcern, marking, however, very carefully, the effect of his 
 communication upon young Ravenswood. 
 
 "You are aware," he said, *' my young friend, that sus- 
 picion is the natural vice of our unsettled times, and exijoses 
 the best and wisest of us to the imposition of artful rascals. 
 If I had been disposed to listen to such the other day, or 
 even if I had been the wily politician which you have been 
 taught to believe me, you. Master of Ravenswood, instead of 
 being at freedom, and with full liberty to solicit and act 
 against me as you please, in defence of what you suppose to 
 be your rights, would have been in the Castle of Edinburgh, 
 or some other state prison ; or, if you had escaped that 
 destiny, it must have been by flight to a foreign country, and 
 at the risk of a sentence of fugitation.^' 
 
 "^'My Lord Keeper/' said the Master, "I think you would 
 not jest on such a subject ; yet it seems impossible you can be 
 in earnest." 
 
 "Innocence," said the Lord Keeper, *'is also confidents 
 and sometimes, though very excusably, presumptuously so." 
 
 "I do not understand," said Ravenswood, "how a con- 
 sciousness of innocence can be, in any case, accounted pre- 
 sumptuous." 
 
 " Imprudent, at least, it may be called," said Sir William 
 Ashton, "since it is apt to lead us into the mistake of sup- 
 posing that sufficiently evident to others of which, in fact, 
 we are only conscious ourselves. I have known a rogue, for 
 this very reason, make a better defence than an innocent man 
 could have done in the same circumstances of suspicion. 
 Having no consciousness of innocence to support him, such a 
 ■fellow applies himself to all the advantages which the law 
 
 is: 
 
152 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 will afford him, and sometimes — if his counsel be men of tal- 
 ent — succeeds in compelling his judges to receive him as 
 innocent. I remember the celebrated case of Sir Coolie Con- 
 diddle of Condiddle, who was tried for theft under trust, 
 of which all the world knew him guilty, and yet was not 
 only acquitted, but lived to sit in judgment on honester 
 folk/' 
 
 ''Allow me to beg you will return to the point,'' said the 
 Master; "you seemed to say that I had suffered under some 
 suspicion.'' 
 
 *' Suspicion, Master ! Ay, truly, and I can show you the 
 proofs of it ; if I happen only to have them with me. 'Here, 
 Lockhard." His attendant came. " Fetch me the little pri- 
 vate mail with the padlocks, that I recommended to your 
 particular charge, d'ye hear ?" 
 
 " Yes, my lord." Lockhard vanished ; and the Keeper 
 continued, as if half speaking to himself. 
 
 ''I think the papers are with me — I think so, for, as I 
 was to be in this country, it was natural for me to bring them 
 with me. I have them, however, at Eavenswood Castle, that 
 I am sure of ; so perhaps you might condescend " 
 
 Here Lockhard entered and put the leathern scrutoire, or 
 mail-box, into his hands. The Keeper produced one or two 
 papers, respecting the information laid before the privy 
 council concerning the riot, as it was termed, at the funeral 
 of Allan Lord Ravenswood, and the active share he had him- 
 self taken in quashing the proceedings against the Master. 
 These documents had been selected with care, so as to irri- 
 tate the natural curiosity of Ravenswood upon such a subject, 
 without gratifying it, yet to show that Sir AVilliam Ashton 
 had acted upon that trying occasion the part of an advocate 
 and peacemaker betwixt him and the jealous authorities of 
 the day. Having furnished his host with such subjects for 
 examination, the Lord Keeper went to the breakfast-table, 
 and entered into light conversation, addressed partly to old 
 Caleb, whose resentment against the usurper of the Castle of 
 Ravenswood began to be softened by his familiarity, and 
 partly to his daughter. 
 
 After perusing these papers, the Master of Ravenswood 
 remained for a minute or two with his hand pressed against 
 his brow, in deep and profound meditation. He then again 
 ran his eye hastily over the papers, as if desirous of discover- 
 ing in them some deep purpose, or some mark of fabrication, 
 which had escaped him at first perusal. Apparently the sec- 
 ond reading confirmed the opinion which had pressed upon 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR lo3 
 
 liim at the first, for he started from tlie stone bench on which 
 lie was sitting, and, going to the Lord Keeper, took his hand, 
 and, strongly pressing it, asked his pardon repeatedly for the 
 injustice he had done him, when it appeared he was experi- 
 encing, at his hands, the benefit of protection to liis person 
 and vindication to his character. 
 
 The statesman received these acknowledgments at first with 
 Avell-feigned surprise, and then with an affectation of frank 
 cordiality. The tears began already to start from Lucy's blue 
 eyes at viewing this unexpected and moving scene. To see 
 the Master, late so haughty and reserved, and whom she had 
 always supposed the injured person, supplicating her father 
 for forgiveness, was a change at once surprising, flattering, 
 and affecting. 
 
 " Dry your eyes, Lucy," said her father : '•' why should you 
 weep, because your father, though a lawyer, is discovered to be 
 a fair and honorable man ? What have you to thank me for, 
 my dear Master," he continued, addressing Eavenswood,"that 
 you would not have done in my case? 'Smim cuique tri- 
 buito/wsks the Roman justice, and I learned it when I studied 
 Justinian. Besides, have you not overpaid me a thousand 
 times, in saving the life of this dear child ?" 
 
 " Yes," answered the Master, in all the remorse of self- 
 accusation ; ''but the little service /did was an act of mere 
 brutal instinct ; your defence of my cause, when you knew 
 how ill I thought of you, and how much I was disposed to be 
 your enemy, was an act of generous, manly, and considerate 
 wisdom." 
 
 "Pshaw !" said the Lord Keeper, ''each of us acted in 
 his own way ; you as a gallant soldier, I as an upright judge 
 and privy-councillor. We could not, perhaps, have changed 
 parts ; at least I should have made a very sorry tauridor, and 
 you, my good Master, though your cause is so excellent, 
 might have pleaded it perhaps worse yourself than I who 
 acted for you before the council." 
 
 " My generous friend !" said Eavenswood ; and with that 
 brief word, which the Keeper had often lavished upon him, 
 but which he himself now pronounced for the first time, he 
 gave to his feudal enemy the full confidence of a haughty 
 but honorable heart. The Master had been remarked among 
 his contemporaries for sense and acuteness, as well as for his 
 reserved, pertinacious, and irascible character. His prepos- 
 sessions accordingly, however obstinate, were of a nature to 
 give way before love and gratitude ; and the real charms of 
 the daughter, joined to the supposed services of the father. 
 
164 WA VERLEY NOVELS 
 
 cancelled in his memory the vows of vengeance which he had 
 taken so deeply on the eve of his father^s funeral. But they 
 had been heard and registered in the book of fate. 
 
 Caleb was present at this extraordinary scene, and he 
 could conceive no other reason for a proceeding so extraordi- 
 nary than an alliance betwixt the houses, and Eavenswood 
 Castle assigned for the young lady's dowry. As for Lucy, 
 ■^vlien Ravenswood uttered the most passionate excuses for his 
 ungrateful negligence, slie could but smile through her tears, 
 and, as she abandoned her hand to him, assure him, in broken 
 accents, of the delight witli which she beheld the complete 
 reconciliation between her father and her deliverer. Even the 
 statesman was moved and affected by the fiery, unreserved, 
 and generous self-abandonment with which the Master of 
 Ravenswood renounced his feudal enmity and threw himself 
 without hesitation upon his forgiveness. His eyes glistened 
 as he looked upon a couple who were obviously becoming at- 
 tached, and who seemed made for each other. He thought 
 how high the proud and chivalrous character of Eavenswood 
 might rise under many circumstances in which he found him- 
 self " overcrowed,"' to use a phrase of Spenser, and kept 
 under, by his brief pedigree, and timidity of disposition. 
 Then his daughter — his favorite child — his constant play- 
 mate — seemed formed to live happy in a union with such a 
 commanding spirit as Eavenswood ; and even the fine, delicate, 
 fragile form of Lucy Ashton seemed to require the support of 
 the Master's muscular strength and masculine character. And 
 it was not merely during a few minutes that Sir William 
 Ashton looked upon their marriage as a probable and even 
 desirable event, for a full hour intervened ere his imagination 
 was crossed by recollection of the Master's poverty, and the 
 sure displeasure of Lady Ashton. It is certain, that the very 
 unusual flow of kindly feeling with which the Lord Keeper had 
 been tlius surprised, was one of the circumstances which gave 
 much tacit encouragement to the attachment between the 
 Master and his daughter, and led both the lovers distinctly to 
 believe that it was a connection which w^ould be most agree- 
 able to him. He himself was supposed to have admitted this 
 in efl'ect, when, long after the catastrophe of their love, he 
 used to warn his hearers against permitting their feelings to 
 obtain an ascendency over their judgment, and affirm, that 
 the greatest misfortune of his life was owing to a very tem- 
 porary predominance of sensibility over self-interest. It 
 must be owned, if such was the case, he was long and seve/'ely 
 punished for an offence of very brief duration. 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR 155 
 
 After some pause, the Lord Keeper resumed the conver- 
 satiou. •* 111 your surprise at finding me an honester man 
 chau you expected, you have lost your curiosity about this 
 Craigengelt, my good Master ; and yet your name was 
 brought in, in the course of that matter too." 
 
 "The scoundrel!" said Ravenswood. "My connection 
 with him was of the most temporary nature possible ; and 
 yet I was very foolish to hold any communication with him at 
 all. What did he say of me ?" 
 
 " Enough,'' said the Keeper, *' to excite the very loyal 
 terrors of some of our sages, who are for proceeding against 
 men on the mere grounds of suspicion or mercenary informa- 
 tion. Some nonsense about your proposing to enter into the 
 service of France, or of the Pretender, I don't recollect which, 
 
 but which the Marquis of A , one of your best friends, 
 
 and another person, whom some call one of your worst and 
 most interested enemies, could not, somehow, be brought to 
 listen to." 
 
 "I am obliged to my honorable friend ; and yet," shak- 
 ing the Lord Keeper's hand — " and yet I am still more 
 obliged to my honorable enemy." 
 
 " Inimicus amicissimus," said the Lord Keeper, return- 
 ing the pressure ; "but this gentleman — this Mr. Hayston of 
 Bucklaw — I am afraid the poor young man — I heard the 
 fellow mention his name — is under very bad guidance." 
 
 " He is old enough to govern himself," answered the 
 Master. 
 
 " Old enough, perhaps, but scarce wise enough, if he has 
 chosen this fellow for \\\s,fidus Achates. Why, he lodged an 
 information against him — that is, such a consequence might 
 have ensued from his examination, had we not looked rather 
 at the character of the witness than the tenor of his evi- 
 dence." 
 
 ''Mr. Hayston of Bucklaw," said the Master, "is, I 
 believe, a most honorable man, and capable of nothing that 
 IS mean or disgraceful." 
 
 " Capable of much that is unreasonable, though ; that you 
 must needs allow. Master. Death will soon put him in pos- 
 session of a fair estate, if he hath it not already ; old Lady 
 Girnington — an excellent person, excepting that her invet- 
 erate ill-nature rendered her intolerable to the whole world — 
 is probably dead by this time. Six heirs portioners have suc- 
 cessively died to make her wealthy. I know the estates well ; 
 they march with my own — a noble property." 
 
 " I am glad of it," said Ravenswood, " and should be more 
 
156 WAVERLEY KOVELS 
 
 so, were I confident that Bueklaw would change his company 
 and habits with his fortune. This appearance of Craigen- 
 gelt, acting in the capacity of his friend, is a most vile augury 
 for his future respectability." 
 
 •' He is a bird of evil omen, to be sure," said the Keeper, 
 "' and croaks of jail and gallows-tree. But I see Mr. Caleb 
 grows impatient for our return to breakfast/' 
 
CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 Sir, stay at home and take an old man's counsel ; 
 
 Seek not to bask you by a stranger's hearth ; 
 Our own blue smoke is warmer than their fire. 
 Domestic food is wholesome, though 'tis homely, 
 And foreign dainties poisonous, though tasteful. 
 
 The French Courtezar^ 
 
 The Master of Ravenswood took an opportunity to leave ki\ 
 guests to prepare for their departure, while he himself made 
 the brief arrangements necessary previous to his absence from 
 Wolf's Crag for a day or two. It was necessary to communi- 
 cate with Caleb on this occasion, and he found that faithful 
 servitor in his sooty and ruinous den, greatly delighted with 
 the departure of their visitors, and computing how long, with 
 good management, the provisions which had been unexpended 
 might furnish forth the Master's table. "He's nae belly 
 god, that's ae blessing ; and Bucklaw's gane, that could have 
 eaten a horse behind tlie saddle. Cresses or water-purpie, and 
 a bit ait-cake, can serve the Master for breakfast as well as 
 Caleb. Then for dinner — there's no muckle left on the spule- 
 bane ; it will brander, though — it will brander very weel." 
 
 His triumphant calculations were interrupted by the Mas- 
 ter, who communicated to him, not without some hesitation, 
 his purpose to ride with the Lord Keeper as far as Ravens- 
 wood Castle, and to remain there for a day or two. 
 
 " The mercy of Heaven forbid ! " said the old serving-man 
 turning as pale as the table-cloth which he was folding up. 
 
 "And why, Caleb ?" said his master — "why should the 
 mercy of Heaven forbid my returning the Lord Keeper's 
 visit ? " 
 
 "Oh, sir!" replied Caleb — "0, Mr. Edgar! I am your 
 servant, and it ill becomes me to speak ; but I am an auld 
 servant — have served baith your father and gudesire, and 
 mind to have seen Lord Randal, your great-grandfather, but 
 that was when I was a bairn." 
 
 "And Avhat of all this, Balderstone ? " said the Master ; 
 " what can it possibly have to do with my paying some ordi- 
 nary civility to a neighbor ? " 
 
 m 
 
158 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 *' 0, Mr. Edgar, — that is, my lord ! " answered the butler. 
 ** yonr ain conscience tells you it isna for your father's son to 
 be neighboring wi' the like o' him ; it is na for the credit of 
 the family. An he were ance come to terms, and to gie ye 
 back your ain, e'en though ye suld honor his house wi' your 
 alliance, I suldna say na ; for the young leddy is a winsome 
 sweet creakire. But keep your ain state wi' them — I ken the 
 race o' them weel — they will think the mair o' ye." 
 
 ''Why, now, you go farther than I do, Caleb," said the 
 Master, drowning a certain degree of consciousness in a forced 
 laugh ; " you are for marrying me into a family that you will 
 not allow me to visit, how's this ? and you look as pale as 
 death besides." 
 
 ''0, sir," repeated Caleb again, *'you would but laugh if 
 I tauld it ; but Thomas the Rhymer, whose tongue couldna 
 be fause, spoke the word of 3^our house that will e'en prove 
 ower true if you go to Ravenswood this day. 0, that it 
 should e'er have been fulfilled in my time ! " 
 
 *' And what is it, Caleb ? " said Ravenswood, wishing to 
 soothe the fears of his old servant. 
 
 Caleb replied, " He had never repeated the lines to liv- 
 ing mortal ; they were told to him by an auld priest that had 
 been confessor to Lord Allan's father when the family were 
 Catholic. But mony a time," he said, " I hae soughed thae 
 dark words ower to mysell, and, well-a-day ! little did I think 
 of their coming round this day." 
 
 " Truce with your nonsense, and let me. hear the doggerel 
 v:hich has put it into your head," said the Master, impatiently. 
 
 With a quivering voice, and a cheek pale with apprehen- 
 sion, Caleb faltered out the following lines : 
 
 " ' When the last Laird of Ravenswood to Ravenswood shall ride 
 And woo a dead maiden to be his bride, 
 He shall stable his steed in the Kelpie's flow, 
 And his name shall be lost f orevermoe ! ' " 
 
 " I know the Kelpie's flow well enough," said the Master ; 
 '' I suppose, at least, you mean the quicksand betwixt this 
 tower and Wolf's Hope ; but why any man in his senses 
 should stable a steed there " 
 
 "0, never speer ony thing about that, sir — God forbid we 
 should ken what the prophecy means — but just bide you at 
 hame, and let the strangers ride to Ravenswood by them- 
 selves. We have done eneugh for them ; and to do mair 
 would be mair against the credit of the family than in its 
 favor.'* 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR 159 
 
 "Well, Caleb," said the Master, "•'! give jou the best 
 possible credit for your good advice on this occasion ; but as 
 I do not go to Raveuswood to seek a bride, dead or alive, I hope 
 I shall choose a better stable for my horse than the Kelpie's 
 quicksand, and especially as I have always had a particular 
 dread of it since the patrol of dragoons were lost there ten 
 years since. My father and I saw them from the tower 
 struggling against the advancing tide, and they were lost long 
 before any help could reach them." 
 
 " And they deserved it weel, the southern loons ! " said 
 Caleb : '' wliat had they ado capering on our sands, and hin- 
 dering a wlieen honest folk frae bringing on shore a drap 
 brandy ? I hae seen them that busy, that I wad hae fired 
 the auld culverin or the demi-saker that's on the south barti- 
 zan at them, only I was feared they might burst in the gang- 
 ing aff." 
 
 Caleb's brain was now fully engaged with abuse of the 
 English soldiery and excisemen, so that his master found no 
 great difficulty in escaping from him and rejoining his guests. 
 All was now ready for their departure ; and one of the Lord 
 Keeper's grooms having saddled the Master's steed, they 
 mounted in the courtyard. 
 
 Caleb had, with much toil, opened the double doors of tne 
 outward gate, and thereat stationed himself, endeavoring, 
 by the reverential, and at the same time consequential, air 
 which he assumed, to supply, by his own gaunt, wasted, and 
 thin person, the absence of a whole baronial establishment 
 of porters, warders, and liveried menials. 
 
 The Keeper returned his deep reverence with a cordial 
 farewell, stooping at the same time from his horse, and slid- 
 ing into the butler's hand the remuneration which in those 
 days was always given by a departing guest to the domestica 
 of the family where he had been entertained. Lucy smiled 
 on the old man with her usual sweetness, bade him adien, 
 and deposited her guerdon with a grace of action and a gen- 
 tleness of accent which could not have failed to have won the 
 faithful retainer's heart, but for Thomas the Rhymer, and the 
 successful lawsuit against his master. As it was, he might 
 have adopted the language of the Duke in As You Like It — 
 
 Thou wouldst have better pleased me with this deed, 
 If thou hadst told me of another father. 
 
 Ravenswood was at the lady's bridle-rein, encouraging her 
 timidity, and guiding her horse carefully down the rocky path 
 which led to the moor, when one of the servants announced 
 
160 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 from the rear that Caleb was calling loudly after them, desir- 
 ing to speak with his master. Ravenswood felt it would look 
 singular to neglect this summons, although inwardly cursin 
 Caleb for his impertinent officiousness ; therefore he was 
 compelled to relinquish to j\Ir. Lockhard the agreeable duty 
 in which he was engaged, and to ride back to the gate of the 
 courtyard. Here he W;as beginning, somewhat peevishly, to 
 ask Caleb the cause of his clamor, when the good old man 
 exclaimed, " Whisht, sir ! — whisht, and let me speak just ae 
 word that I couldna say afore folk ; there [putting into his 
 lord's hand the money he had just received] — there's three 
 gowd pieces ; and ye'll want siller up-bye yonder. But stay, 
 whisht now ! " for the Master was beginning to exclaim 
 against this transference, "never say a word, but just see to 
 get them changed in the first town ye ride through, for they 
 are bran new frae the mint, and kenspeckle a wee bit." 
 
 '' You forget, Caleb," said his master, striving to force 
 back the money on his servant, and extricate the bridle from 
 his hold — " you forget that I have some gold pieces left of 
 my own. Keep these to yourself, my old friend ; and, once 
 more, good-day to you. I assure you, I have plenty. You 
 know you have managed that our living should cost us little 
 or nothing." 
 
 "i\v eel," said Caleb, "these will serve for you another 
 time ; but see ye hae eneugh, for, doubtless, for th^ credit of 
 the family, there maun be some civility to the servants, and 
 ye maun hae something to mak a show with when they say, 
 ' Master, will you bet a broad piece ? ' Then ye maun tak 
 out your purse, and say, ' I carena if I do ; ' and tak care 
 no to agree on the articles of the wager, and just put up your 
 purse again, and " 
 
 "This is intolerable, Caleb ; I really must be gone." 
 
 "And you will go, then ?" said Caleb, loosening hishoxf' 
 upon the Master's cloak, and changing his didactics into a 
 pathetic and mournful tone — " and you tvill go, for a' I have 
 told you about the prophecy, and the dead bride, and the 
 Kelpie's quicksand ? Aweel ! a wilful man maun hae his 
 way : he that will to Cupar maun to Cupar. But pity of 
 your life, sir, if ye be fowling or shooting in the Park, beware 
 
 of drinking at the Mermaiden's Well He's gane ! he's 
 
 down the path arrow-flight after her ! The head is as clean 
 taen aff the Ravenswood family this day as I wad chap the 
 head aff a sybo ! " 
 
 The old butler looked long after his master, often clearing 
 away the dew as it rose to his eyes, that he might, as long as 
 
THK BKIDI^J OB' LAMMERMOOR 161 
 
 possible, distinguish his stately form from those of the other 
 horsemen. " Close to her bridle-rein — ay, close to her bridle- 
 rein ! Wisely saith the holy man, ' By this also you may 
 know that woman hath dominion over all men ; ' and with- 
 out this lass would not our ruin have been a'thegither ful- 
 filled. " 
 
 AVith a heart fraught with sucli sad auguries did Caleb 
 return to his necessary duties at Wolf's Crag, as soon as he 
 could no longer distinguish the object of his anxiety among 
 the group of riders, which diminished in the distance. 
 
 In the mean time the party pursued their route joyfully. 
 Having once taken his resolution, the Master of Eavenswood 
 was not of a character to hesitate or pause upon it. He aban- 
 doned himself to the pleasure he felt in Miss Ashton's com- 
 pany, and displayed an assiduous gallantry which approached 
 as nearly to gayety as the temper of his mind and state of his 
 family permitted. The Lord Keeper was much struck with 
 liis depth of observation, and the unusual improvement which 
 lie had derived from his studies. Of these accomplishments 
 Sir William Ashton's profession and habits of society rendered 
 him an excellent judge ; and he well knew how to appreciate 
 a quality to which he himself was a total stranger — the brief 
 and decided dauntlessness of the Master of Eavenswood's dis- 
 position, who seemed equally a stranger to doubt and to fear. 
 In his heart the Lord Keeper rejoiced at having conciliated 
 an adversary so formidable, while, with a mixture of pleasure 
 and anxiety, he anticipated the great things his young com- 
 panion might achieve, were the breath of court-favor to fill 
 nis sails. 
 
 " What could she desire," he thought, his mind always 
 conjuring up opposition in the person of Lady Ashton to his 
 now prevailing wish — "^ what could a woman desire in a 
 match more than the sopiting of a very dangerous claim, and 
 the alliance of a son-in-law, noble, brave, well-gifted, an^, 
 highly connected ; sure to float whenever the tide sets kis 
 way ; strong, exactly where we are weak, in pedigree and 'a\ the 
 temper of a swordsman ? Sure, no reasonable woman would 
 
 hesitate. But, alas !" Here his argument was stopped by 
 
 the consciousness that Lady Ashton was not always reason- 
 able, in his sense of the word. " To prefer some clownish 
 Merse laird to the gallant young nobleman, and to the secure 
 possession of Eavenswood upon terms of easy compromise — 
 it would be the act of a madwoman \" 
 
 Thus pondered the veteran politician, until they reached 
 JBittlebrains House, where it had been previously settled they 
 
162 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 were to dine and repose tlieniselves, and prosecute their jour- 
 ney in the afternoon. 
 
 Tliey were received with an excess of hospitality ; and the 
 most marked attention was offered to the Master of Eavens- 
 wood, in particular, by their noble entertainers. The truth 
 was, tliat Lord Bittlebrains had obtained his peerage by a 
 good deal of plausibility, an art of building up a character for 
 wisdom upon a very trite style of commonplace eloquence, a 
 steady observation "of the changes of the times, and the power 
 of rendering certain political services to those who could best 
 reward them. His lady and he, not feeling quite easy under 
 their new honors, to which use had not adapted their feelings, 
 were very desirous to procure the fraternal countenance of 
 those who were born denizens of the regions into which they 
 had been exalted from a lower sphere. The extreme atten- 
 tion which they paid to the Master of Eavenswood had its 
 usual effect in exalting his importance in the eyes of the Lord 
 Keeper, who, although he had a reasonable degree of con- 
 tempt for Lord Bittlebrains's general parts, entertained a high 
 opinion of the acuteness of his judgment in all matters of 
 self-interest. 
 
 " I wish Lady Ashton had seen this," was his internal re- 
 flection ; "no man knows so well as Bittlebrains on which 
 side his bread is buttered ; and he fawns on the Master like a 
 beggar's messan on a cook. And my lady, too, bringing 
 forward her beetle-browed misses to skirl and play upon the 
 virginals, as if she said, 'Pick and choose." They are no 
 more comparable to Lucy than an owl is to a cygnet, and so 
 they may carry their black brows to a farther market." 
 
 The entertainment being ended, our travellers, who had 
 still to measure the longest part of their journey, resumed their 
 horses ; and after the Lord Keeper, the Master, and the do- 
 mestics had drunk doch-cm-dorroch, or the stirrup-cup, in the 
 liquors adapted to their various ranks, the cavalcade resumed 
 its progress. 
 
 It was dark by the time they entered the avenue of Ea- 
 venswood Castle, a long straight line leading directly to the 
 front of the house, flanked with huge elm-trees, which sighed 
 to the night-wind, as if they compassionated the heir of their 
 ancient proprietors, who now returned to their shades in the 
 society, and almost in the retinue, of their new master. Some 
 feelings of the same kind oppressed the mind of the Master 
 himself. He gradually became silent, and dropped a little 
 behind the lady, at whose bridle-rein he had hitherto waited 
 with such devotion. He well recollected the period when. 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR 163 
 
 at the same hour iu the evening, he had accompanied his 
 father, as that nobleman left, never again to return to it, the 
 mansion from which he derived his name and title. Tlie ex- 
 tensive front of the old castle, on which he remembered hav- 
 ing often looked back, was then "as black as mourning weed," 
 The same front now glanced with many lights, some throwing 
 far forward into the night a fixed and stationary blaze, and oth- 
 ers hurrying from one window to another, intimating the bustle 
 and busy preparation preceding their arrival, which had been 
 intimated by an avant-courier. The contrast pressed so strongly 
 upon the Master's heart as to awaken some of the sterner feel- 
 ings with which he had been accustomed to regard the new 
 lor>l of his paternal domain, and to impress his countenance 
 with an air of severe gravity, when, alighted from his horse, 
 he stood in the hall no longer his own, surrounded by the 
 numerous menials of its present owner. 
 
 The Lord Keeper, when about to welcome him with the 
 cordiality which their late intercourse seemed to render proper, 
 became aware of the change, refrained from his purpose, and 
 only intimated the ceremony of reception by a deep reverence 
 to his guest, seeming thus delicately to share the feelings which 
 predominated on his brow. 
 
 Two upper domestics, bearing each a huge pair of silver 
 candlesticks, now marshalled the company into a large saloon, 
 or withdrawing-room, where new alterations impressed upon 
 Eavenswood the suj^erior wealth of the present inhabitants of 
 the castle. The mouldering taj^estry, which, in his father's 
 time, had half covered the walls of this statel}^ apartment, and 
 half streamed from them in tatters, had given place to a com- 
 plete finishing of wainscot, the cornice of which, as well as the 
 frames of the various compartments, were ornamented with 
 festoons of flowers and with birds, which, though carved in 
 oak, seemed, such was the art of the chisel, actually to swell 
 their throats and flutter their wings. Several old family por- 
 traits of armed heroes of the house of Ravenswood, together 
 with a suit or two of old armor and some military weapons, 
 had given place to those of King William and Queen Mary, 
 of Sir Thomas Hope and Lord Stair, two distinguished Scot- 
 tish lawyers. The pictures of the Lord Keeper's father and 
 mother were also to be seen ; the latter, sour, shrewish, and 
 solemn, in her black hood and close pinners, with a book of 
 devotion in her hand ; the former, exhibiting beneath a black 
 silk Geneva cowl, or skull-cap, which sat as close to the head 
 as if it had been shaven, a pinched, peevish. Puritanical set 
 of features, terminating in a hungry, reddish, peaked beard. 
 
164 WAVFRLEY NOVELS 
 
 forming on the whole a countenance in the expression of 
 which the liypocrite seemed to contend with the miser and 
 the knave. "And it is to make room for such scarecrows as 
 these/' thought Eavenswood, " that my ancestors have been 
 torn down from the walls which they erected ! " He looked 
 at them again, and, as he looked, the recollection of Lucy 
 Asliton, for she had not entered the apartment with them, 
 seemed less lively in his imagination. There were also two 
 or three Dutch drolleries, as the pictures of Ostade and 
 Teniers were then termed, with one good painting of the 
 Italian school. There was, besides, a noble full-length of the 
 Lord Keeper in his robes of office, placed beside his lady in 
 silk and ermine, a haughty beauty, bearing in her looks all 
 the pride of the house of Douglas, from which she was de- 
 scended. The painter, notwithstanding his skill, overcome 
 by the reality, or, perhaps, from a suppressed sense of humor, 
 had not been able to give the husband on the canvas that air 
 of awful rule and right supremacy which indicates the full 
 possession of domestic authority. It was obvious at the first 
 glance, that, despite mace and gold frogs, the Lord Keeper 
 was somewhat henpecked. The floor of this fine saloon was 
 laid with rich carpets, huge fires blazed in the double chim- 
 neys, and ten silver sconces, reflecting with their bright plates 
 the lights which they supported, made the whole seem as 
 brilliant as day. 
 
 " Would you choose any refreshment. Master ?" said Sir 
 William Ashton, not unwilling to break the awkward silence. 
 
 He received no answer, the Master being so busily en- 
 gaged in marking the various changes which had taken place 
 in the apartment, that he hardly heard the Lord Keeper ad- 
 dress him. A repetition of the offer of refreshment, with the 
 addition, that the family meal would be presently ready, com- 
 pelled his attention, and reminded him that he acted a weak, 
 perhaps even a ridiculous, part in suffering himself to be 
 overcome by the circumstances in which he found himself. 
 He compelled himself, therefore, to enter into conversation 
 with Sir William Ashton, with as much appearance of indif- 
 ference as he could well command. 
 
 ''You will not be surprised. Sir William, that I am inter- 
 ested in the changes you have made for the better in this 
 apartment. In my father's time, after our misfortunes com- 
 pelled him to live in retirement, it was little used, except by 
 me as a play-room, when the weather would not permit me to 
 go abroad. In that recess was my little workshop, where I 
 treasured the few carpenters' tools which old Caleb procured 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR 165 
 
 for me, and taught me how to use ; there, in yonder corner, 
 under that handsome silver sconce, I kept my fishing-rods and 
 hunting poles, bows and arrows." 
 
 " I have a young birkie," said the Lord Keeper, willing to 
 change the tone of the conversation, '* of much the same 
 turn. He is never happy save when he is in the field. I 
 wonder he is not here. Here, Lockhard ; send William Shaw 
 for Mr. Henry. I suppose he is, as usual, tied to Lucy's 
 apron-string ; that foolish girl. Master, draws the whole family 
 after her at her pleasure." 
 
 Even this allusion to his daughter, though artfully thrown 
 out, did not recall Ravenswood from his own topic. 
 
 '' We were obliged to leave," he said, ''some armor and 
 portraits in this apartment ; may I ask where they have been 
 removed to ? " 
 
 "Why, "answered the Keeper, with some hesitation, "the 
 room was fitted up in our absence, and eedant arma togm is 
 the maxim of lawyers, you know : I am afraid it has been 
 here somewhat too literally complied with. I hope — I be- 
 lieve they are safe, I am sure I gave orders ; may I hope that 
 when they are recovered, and put in proper order, you will 
 do me the honor to accept them at my hand, as an atonement 
 for their accidental derangement ? " 
 
 The Master of Ravenswood bowed stiffly, and, with folded 
 arms, again resumed his survey of the room. 
 
 Henry, a spoiled boy of fifteen, burst into the room, and 
 ran up to his father. "' Think of Lucy, papa ; she has come 
 home so cross and so fractious, that she will not go down to 
 the stable to see my new pony, that Bob Wilson brought from 
 the Mull of Galloway." 
 
 " I think you were very unreasonable to ask her," said the 
 Keeper. 
 
 "Then you are as cross as she is," answered the boy; 
 "but when mamma comes home, she'll claw up both your 
 mittens." 
 
 "Hush your impertinence, you little forward imp !" said 
 his father ; " where is your tutor ?" 
 
 " Gone to a wedding at Dunbar ; I hope he'll get a haggis 
 to his dinner ; " and he began to sing the old Scottish song — 
 
 *' ' There was a haggis in Dunbar, 
 
 Fal de ral, etc. 
 Mony better and few waur, 
 
 Fal de ral, etc.'" 
 
 *'Iam much obliged to Mr. Cordery for his attentions." 
 said the Lord Keeper ; " and pray who has had the charge of 
 you while I was awav. Mr. Henry ?" 
 
1G6 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 " Normau and Bob Wilson, forbye my own self." 
 
 "A groom and a gamekeeper, and your own silly self- 
 proper guardians for a young advocate ! Why, you will never 
 know any statutes but those against shooting red-deer, killing 
 salmon, and " 
 
 " And speaking of red-game," said the young scapegrace, 
 interrupting his father without scruple or hesitation, " Nor- 
 man has shot a buck, and I showed the branches to Lucy, and 
 she says they have but eight tines ; and she says that you 
 killed a deer with Loi'd Bittlebrains's hounds, when yoii 
 were west away, and, do you know, she says it had ten tines « 
 is it true ? " 
 
 ''It may have had twenty, Henry, for what I know; bui. 
 if you go to that gentleman, he can tell you all about it. Gp 
 speak to him, Henry; it is the Master of Eavenswood." 
 
 While they conversed thus, the father and son were stand' 
 ing by the fire; and the Master, having walked towards th<? 
 upper end of the apartment, stood with his back toward? 
 them, apparently engaged in examining one of the paintings. 
 The boy ran up to him, and pulled him by the skirt of the 
 coat with the freedom of a spoiled child, saying, ''I say, sir, if 
 
 you please to tell me " but when tlie Master turned round, 
 
 and Henry saw his face, he became suddenly and totally dis- 
 concerted ; walked two or three steps backward, and still 
 gazed on Ravenswood with an air of fear and wonder, which 
 had totally banished from his features their usual expression 
 of pert vivacity. 
 
 " Come to me, young gentleman," said the Master, "and 
 I will tell you all I know about the hunt." 
 
 " Go to the gentleman, Henry," said his father ; ''you are 
 not used to be so shy." 
 
 But neither invitation nor exhortation had any effect on 
 the boy. On the contrary, he turned round as soon as he 
 had completed his survey of the Master, and walking as cau- 
 tiously as if he had been treading upon eggs, he glided back 
 to his father, and pressed as close to him as possible. Eavens- 
 wood, to avoid hearing the dispute betwixt the father and the 
 over-indulged boy, thought it most polite to turn his face once 
 more towards the pictures, and pay no attention to what they 
 said. 
 
 " Why do you not speak to the Master, yon little fool ?" 
 said the Lord Keeper. 
 
 " I am afraid," said Henry, in a very low tone of voice. 
 
 " Afraid, you goose !" said his father, giving him a slight 
 shake by the collar. " What makes you afraid r" 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR 167 
 
 " What makes him so like the picture of Sir Malise Ravens- 
 tvood, then ? " said the boy, whispering. 
 
 '• What picture, you natural f" said his father. " I used 
 to think you only a scapegrace, but I believe you will turn out 
 a born idiot." 
 
 " I tell you, it is the picture of old Malise of Eavenswood, 
 and he is as like it as if he had loupen out of the canvas ; and 
 it is up in the old baron's hall that the maids launder the 
 clothes in ; and it has armor, and not a coat like the gentle- 
 man ; and he has not a beard and whiskers like the picture ; 
 and it has another kind of thing about the throat, and no 
 band-strings as he has ; and " 
 
 "And why should not the gentleman be like his ancestor, 
 you silly boy ? " said the Lord Keeper. 
 
 "Ay ; but if he is come to chase us all out of the castle," 
 said the boy, "and has twenty men at his back in disguise; 
 and is come to say, with a hollow voice, ' I bide my time ; ' 
 and is to kill you on the hearth as Malise did the other man, 
 and whose blood is still to be seen ! " 
 
 " Hush ! nonsense ! " said the Lord Keeper, not himself 
 much pleased to hear these disagreeable coincidences forced 
 on his notice. "Master, here comes Lockhard to say supper 
 is served." 
 
 And, at the same instant, Lucy entered at another door, 
 having changed her dress since her return. The exquisite 
 feminine beauty of her countenance, now shaded only by a 
 profusion of sunny tresses ; the sylph-like form, disencumbered 
 of her heavy riding-skirt and mantled in azure silk ; the grace 
 of her manner and of her smile, cleared, with a celerity wdiich 
 surprised the Master himself, all the gloomy and unfavorable 
 thoughts which had for some time overclouded his fancy. In 
 those features, so simply sweet, he could trace no alliance with 
 the pinched visage of the peak-bearded, black-capped Puri- 
 tan, or his starched, withered spouse, with the craft expressed 
 in the Lord Keeper's countenance, or the haughtiness which 
 predominated in that of his lady ; and, while he gazed on Lucy 
 Ashton, she seemed to be an angel descended on eartli, un- 
 allied to the coarser mortals among whom she deigned to 
 dwell for a season. Such is the power of beauty over a youth- 
 ful and enthusiastic fancy. 
 
CHAPTEE XIX 
 
 I do too ill in this, 
 And must not think but that a parent's plaint 
 Will move the heavens to pour forth misery 
 Upon the head of disobediency. 
 Yet reason tells us, parents are o'erseen, 
 When with too strict a rem they do hold in 
 Their child's affection, and control that love, 
 Which the high powers divine inspire them with. 
 
 The Hog hath lost his Pearl. 
 
 The feast of Kavenswood Castle was as remarkable for its 
 profusion as that of Wolf's Crag had been for its ill-veiled 
 penury. The Lord Keeper might feel internal pride at the 
 contrast, biit he had too much tact to suffer it to appear. 
 On the contrary, he seemed to remember with pleasure Avhat 
 he called Mr. Balderstone's bachelor's meal, and to be rather 
 disgusted than pleased with the display upon his own groaning 
 board. 
 
 *' We do these things," he said, " because others do them ; 
 but I was bred a plain man at my father's frugal table, and I 
 should like well would my wife and family permit me to re- 
 turn to my sowens and my poor-man-of -mutton."* 
 
 This was a little overstretched. The Master only an- 
 swered, " That different ranks — I mean," said he, correcting 
 himself, " different degrees of wealth require a different 
 style of housekeeping." 
 
 This dry remark put a stop to farther conversation on the 
 subject, nor is it necessary to record that which was substi- 
 tuted in its place. The evening was spent with freedom, 
 and even cordiality ; and Henry had so far overcome his first 
 apprehensions, that he had settled a party for coursing a stag 
 with the representative and living resemblance of grim Sir 
 Malise of Eavenswood, called the Eevenger. The next 
 morning was the appointed time. It rose upon active sports- 
 men and successful sport. The banquet came in course ; 
 and a pressing invitation to tarry yet another day was given 
 and accepted. This Eavenswood had resolved should be the 
 last of his stay ; but he recollected he had not yet visited the 
 
 m 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR 169 
 
 ancient and devoted servant of his house, Old Alice, and it 
 was but kind to dedicate one morning to the gratification 
 of so ancient an adherent. 
 
 To visit Alice, therefore, a day was devoted, and Lucy 
 was the Master's guide upon the way. Henry, it is true, ac- 
 companied them, and took from their walk the air of a 
 tete-a-tete, while, in reality, it was little else, considering the 
 variety of circumstances which occurred to prevent the boy 
 from giving the least attention to what passed between his 
 companions. Now a rook settled on a branch within shot ; 
 anon a hare crossed their path, and Henry and his greyhound 
 went astray in pursuit of it ; then he had to hold a long con- 
 versation with the forester, which detained him a while be- 
 hind his companions ; and again he went to examine the 
 earth of a badger, which carried him on a good way before 
 them. 
 
 The conversation betwixt the Master and his sister, mean- 
 while, took an interesting, and almost a confidential, turn. 
 She could not help mentioning her sense of the pain he must 
 feel in visiting scenes so well known to him, bearing now an 
 aspect so different ; and so gently was her sympathy expressed, 
 that Ravenswood felt it for a moment as a full requital of all 
 his misfortunes. Some such sentiment escaped him, which 
 Lucy heard with more of confusion than displeasure ; and 
 she may be forgiven the imprudence of listening to such lan- 
 guage, considering that the situation in which she was placed 
 by her father seemed to authorize Ravenswood to use it. Yet 
 she made an effort to turn the conversation, and she suc- 
 ceeded ; for the Master also had advanced farther than he in- 
 tended, and his conscience had instantly checked him when 
 he found himself on the verge of speaking of love to the 
 daughter of Sir William Ashton. 
 
 They now approached the hut of Old Alice, which had of 
 late been rendered more comfortable, and presented an ap- 
 pearance less picturesque, perhaps, but far neater than before. 
 The old woman was on her accustomed seat beneath the weep- 
 ing birch, basking, with the listless enjoyment of age and 
 infirmity, in the beams of the autumn sun. At the arrival of 
 Iier visitors she turned her head towards them. " I hear 
 your step, Miss Ashton," she said, " but the gentleman who 
 attends you is not my lord, your father." 
 
 "And why should you think so, Alice ?" said Lucy ; "or 
 how is it possible for you to judge so accurately by the sound 
 of a step, on this firm earth, an(f in the open air ? 
 
 " My hearing, my child, has been sharpened by my blind' 
 
170 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 ness, and I can now draw conclusions from the slightest 
 sounds, wliicli formerly reached my ears as unheeded as they 
 now approach yours. Necessity is a stern but an excellent 
 school-mistress, and she that has lost her sight must collect 
 her information from other sources." 
 
 '* Well, you hear a man's step, I grant it," said Lucy ; 
 ''but why, Alice, may it not be my father's ?" 
 
 '' The pace of age, my love, is timid and cautious : the 
 foot takes leave of the earth slowly, and is planted down upon 
 it with hesitation ; it is the hasty and determined stej) of 
 youth that I now hear, and — could I give credit to so strange 
 a thought — [ should say it was the step of a Ravenswood." 
 
 " This is indeed," said Ravenswood, " an acuteness of 
 organ which I could not have credited had I not witnessed it. 
 I ixm indeed the Master of Ravenswood, Alice — the son of 
 your old master." 
 
 ''You!" said the old woman, with almost a scream of 
 surprise — ' ' you the Master of Ravenswood — here — in this 
 place, and thus accompanied ! I cannot believe it. Let me 
 pass my old hand over your face, that my touch may bear 
 witness to my ears." 
 
 The Master sat down beside her on the earthen bank, and 
 permitted her to touch his features with her trembling hand. 
 
 "It is indeed !" she said — " it is the features as well as 
 the voice of Ravenswood — the high lines of pride, as well as 
 the bold and haughty tone. But what do you here. Master 
 of Ravenswood ? — what do you in your enemy's domain, and 
 in company with his child ? " 
 
 As Old Alice spoke, her face kindled, as probably that of 
 an ancient feudal vassal might have done in whose presence 
 his youthful liege-lord had showed some symptom of degener- 
 ating from the spirit of his ancestors. 
 
 "The Master of Ravenswood," said Lucy, who liked not 
 the tone of this expostulation, and was desirous to abridge it^ 
 "is upon a visit to my father." 
 
 "Indeed !"said the old blind woman, in an accent of 
 sarprise. 
 
 "I knew," continued Lucy, " I should do him a pleasure 
 by conducting him to your cottage." 
 
 "Where, to say the truth, Alice," said Ravenswood, "I 
 expected a more cordial reception." 
 
 "It is most wonderful !" said the old woman, muttering 
 to herself ; " but the ways of Heaven are not like our ways, 
 and its judgments are brought about by means far beyond 
 our fathoming. Hearken, young man," she said; "your 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR 171 
 
 fathers were implacable, but they were honorable, foes ; they 
 sought not to ruin their enemies under the mask of hospi- 
 tality. What have you to do with Lucy Ashton ? why should 
 your steps move in the same footpath with hers ? why should 
 your voice sound in the same chord and time witli those of 
 Sir William Ashton's daughter ? Young man, he who aims 
 at revenge by dishonorable means " 
 
 *' Be silent, woman ! " said Ravenswood, sternly ; " is it 
 the devil that prompts your voice ? Know that tliis young 
 lady has not on earth a friend who would venture farther to 
 save her from injury or from insult." 
 
 " And is it even so ?" said the old woman, in an altered 
 but melancholy tone, " then God help you both ! " 
 
 " Amen ! Alice," said Lucy, who had not comprehended 
 the import of what the blind woman had hinted, "and send 
 you your senses, Alice, and your good-humor. If you hold 
 this mysterious language, instead of welcoming your friends, 
 they will think of you as other people do." 
 
 "And how do other people think ?"said Ravenswood, for 
 he also began to believe the old woman spoke with inco- 
 herence. 
 
 " They think," said Henry Ashton, who came up at that 
 moment, and whispered into Ravenswood's ear, " that she is 
 a witch, that should have bee?i burned with them that suf- 
 fered at Haddington." 
 
 " What is that you say ?" said Alice, turning towards the 
 boy, her sightless visage inflamed with passion ; "that I am 
 a witch, and ought to liave suffered with the helpless old 
 wretches who were murdered at Haddington ?" 
 
 "Hear to that now," again whispered Henry, "and me 
 whispering lower than a wren cheeps ! " 
 
 "If the usurer, and the oppressor, and the grinder of the 
 poor man's face, and the remover of ancient landmarks, and 
 the subverter of ancient houses, were at tlie same stake with 
 me, I could say, ' Light the fire, in God's name !'" 
 
 "This is dreadful," said Lucy ; " I have never seen the 
 poor deserted woman in this state of mind ; but age and 
 poverty can ill bear reproach. Come, Henry, we will leave 
 her for the present ; she wishes to speak Avith the Master 
 alone. We will walk homeward, and rest us." she added, 
 looking at Ravenswood, " by the Mermaiden's Well." 
 
 "And Alice," said the boy, "if you know of any hare 
 that comes through among the deer, and makes them drop 
 their calves out of season, you may tell her, Avith my compli- 
 ments to command, that if Norman has not got a silver bullet 
 
172 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 ready for her, I'll lend him one of my doublet-bnttons on 
 purpose." 
 
 Alice made no answer till she was aware that the sister and 
 brother were out of hearing. She then said to Ravenswood, 
 ''And you, too, are angry with me for my love ? It is just 
 that strangers should be offended, but you, too, are angry ! " 
 
 " I am not angry, Alice," said the Master, " only surprised 
 that you, whose good sense I have heard so often praised, 
 should give way to offensive and unfounded suspicions." 
 
 "Offensive !" said Alice. ''Ay, truth is ever offensive; 
 but, surely, not unfounded." 
 
 "I tell you, dame, most groundless," replied Ravenswood. 
 
 " Then the world has changed its wont, and the Ravens- 
 woods their hereditary temper, and the eyes of Old Alice^s 
 understanding are yet more blind than those of her counte- 
 nance. When did a Ravenswood seek the house of his enemy 
 but with the purpose of revenge ? and hither are you come, 
 Edgar Ravenswood, either in fatal anger or in still more 
 fatal love." 
 
 "In neither," said Ravenswood, "I give you mine 
 honor — I mean, I assure you." 
 
 Alice could not see his blushing cheek, but she noticed 
 his hesitation, and that he retracted the pledge which he 
 seemed at first disposed to attach to his denial. 
 
 "It is so, then," she said, "and therefore she is to tarry 
 by the Mermaiden's Well ! Often has it been called a place 
 fatal to the race of Ravenswood — often has it proved so ; but 
 never was it likely to verify old sayings as much as on this 
 day." 
 
 " You drive me to madness, Alice, " said Ravenswood ; 
 •'you are more silly and more superstitious than old Balder- 
 stone. Are you such a wretched Christian as to suppose I 
 would in the present day levy war against the Ashton family, 
 as was the sanguinary custom in elder times ? or do you sup- 
 pose me so foolish, that I cannot walk by a young lady's side 
 without plunging headlong in love with her ? " 
 
 " My thoughts," replied Alice, "are my own ; and if my 
 mortal sight is closed to objects present with me, it may be I 
 can look with more steadfastness into future events. Are 
 you prepared to sit lowest at the board which was once your 
 father's own, unwillingly, as a connection and ally of his 
 proud successor ? Are you ready to live on his bounty ; to 
 follow him in the by-paths of intrigue and chicane, which 
 none can better point out to you ; to gnaw the bones of his 
 prey when he has devoured the substance ? Can you say as 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR 173 
 
 Sir William Asliton says, think as he thinks, vote as he votes, 
 and call your father's murderer your worshipful father-in-law 
 and reverend patron ? Master of Ravenswood, I am the 
 eldest servant of your house, and I would rather see you 
 shrouded and coffined ! '' 
 
 The tumult in Ravenswood's mind was uncommonly 
 great ; she struck upon and awakened a chord which he had 
 for some time successfully silenced. He strode backwards 
 and forwards through the little garden with a hasty pace ; 
 and at length checking himself, and stopping right opposite 
 to Alice, he exclaimed, " Woman ! on the verge of the grave, 
 dare you urge the son of your master to blood and to re- 
 venge ? " 
 
 •'Grod forbid!" said Alice, solemnly; "and therefore I 
 would have you depart these fatal bounds, where your love, 
 as well as your hatred, threatens sure mischief, or at least 
 disgrace, both to yourself and others. I would shield, were 
 it in the power of this withered hand, the Ashtons from you, 
 and you from them, and both from their own passions. You 
 can have nothing — ought to have nothing, in common with 
 them. Begone from among them ; and if God has destined 
 vengeance on the oppressor's house, do not you be the instru- 
 ment." 
 
 " I will think on what yoa have said, Alice," said Ravens- 
 wood, more composedly. "I believe you mean truly and 
 faithfully by me, but you urge the freedom of an ancient 
 domestic somewhat too far. But farewell ; and if Heaven 
 afford me better means, I will not fail to contribute to your 
 comfort." 
 
 He attempted to put a piece of gold into her hand, which 
 she refused to receive ; and, in the slight struggle attending 
 his wish to force it upon her, it droppad to the earth. 
 
 '' Let it remain an instant on the ground," said Alice, as 
 the Master stooped to raise it y "and believe me, that piece 
 of gold is an emblem of her whom you love ; she is as pre- 
 cious, I grant, but you must stoop even to abasement before 
 you can win lier. For me, I have as little to do with gold as 
 with earthly passions ; and the best news that the world has 
 in store for me is, that Edgar Ravenswood is a hundred miles 
 distant from the seat of his ancestors, with the determination 
 never again to behold it." 
 
 " Alice," said the Master, who began to think this earnest- 
 ness had some more secret cause than arose from anything 
 that the blind woman could have gathered from this casual 
 visit, " I have heard you praised by my motlier for your 
 
174 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 sense, acuteness, and fidelity ; you are no fool to start at 
 shadows, or to dread old superstitious saws, like Caleb Balder- 
 stone ; tell me distinctly where my danger lies, if you are 
 aware of any which is tending towards me. If I know my- 
 self, I am free from all such views respecting Miss Ashton as 
 you impute to me. I have necessary business to settle with 
 Sir William ; that arranged, I shall depart, and with as little 
 wish, as you may easily believe, to return to a place full of 
 melancholy subjects of reflection, as you have to see me 
 here." 
 
 Alice bent her sightless eyes on the ground, and was for 
 some time plunged in deep meditation. ''I will speak the 
 truth," she said at length, raising up her head — " I will tell 
 you the source of my ai^prehensions, whether my candor be 
 for good or for evil. Lucy Ashton loves you, Lord of 
 Ravenswood !" 
 
 "It is impossible," said the Master. 
 
 " A thousand circumstances have proved it to me," replied 
 the blind woman. " Her thoughts have turned on no one 
 else since you saved her from death, and that my experienced 
 judgment has won from her own conversation. Having told 
 you this — if you are indeed a gentleman and your father's 
 son — you will make it a motive for flying from her presence. 
 Her passion will die like a lamp for want of that the flame 
 should feed upon ; but, if you remain here, her destruction, 
 or yours, or that of both, will be the inevitable consequence of 
 her misplaced attachment. I tell you this secret unwillingly, 
 but it could not have been hid long from your own observa- 
 tion, and it is better you learn it from mine. Depart, Mas- 
 ter of Ravenswood ; you have my secret. If you remain an 
 hour under Sir William Ashton's roof without the resolution 
 to marry his daughter, you are a villain ; if with the purpose 
 of allying yourself with him, you are an infatuated and pre- 
 destined fool." 
 
 So saying, the old blind woman arose, assumed her stafi:, 
 and, tottering to her hut, entered it and closed the door, leav- 
 ing Ravenswood to his own reflections. 
 
CHAPTER XX 
 
 Lovelier in her own retired abode 
 
 . . . than Naiad by the side 
 
 Of Grecian brook — or Lady of the Mere 
 
 Lone sitting by the shores of old romance. 
 
 Wordsworth. 
 
 The meditations of Ravenswood were of a very mixed com- 
 plexion. He saw himself at once in the very dilemma which 
 ho had for some time felt appreiiensive he might be placed in. 
 The pleasnre he felt in Lucy's company had indeed ap- 
 proached to fascination, yet it had never altogether sur- 
 mounted his internal reluctance to wed with the daughter of 
 his father's foe ; and even in forgiving Sir William Ashton the 
 injuries which his family had received, and giving him credit 
 for the kind intentions he professed to entertain, he could not 
 bring liimself to contemplate as possible an alliance betwixt 
 their houses. Still, he felt that Alice spoke truth, and that 
 his honor now required he should take an instant leave of 
 Ravenswood Castle, or become a suitor of Lucy Ashton. The 
 possibility of being rejected, too, should he make advances to 
 her wealthy and powerful father — to sue for the hand of an 
 Ashton and be refused — this were a consummation too dis- 
 graceful. "T wish her well," he said to himself, "and for 
 her sake I forgive the injuries her father has done to my house ; 
 but I will never — no, never see her more !" 
 
 With one bitter pang he adopted this resolution, just as he 
 came to where two patlis parted : the one to the Mermaiden's 
 Fountain, wliere he knew Lucy waited him, the other leading 
 to the castle by another and more circuitous road. He paused 
 an instant when about to take the latter path, thinking what 
 apology he should make for conduct which must needs seem 
 extraordinary, and had just muttered to himself, "Sudden 
 news from Edinburgh — any pretext will serve ; only let me 
 dally no longer here," when young Henry came flying up to 
 him, half out of breath — "Master, Master, you must give 
 Lucy your arm back to the castle, for I cannot give her mine ; 
 for Norman is waiting for me, and I am to go with him to 
 make his ring- walk, and I would not stay away for a gold 
 
176 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 Jacobus ; and Lucy is afraid to walk home alone, though all 
 the wild nowt have been shot, and so you must come away 
 directly/' 
 
 Betwixt two scales equally loaded, a feather's weight will 
 turn the scale. "It is impossible forme to leave the young 
 lady in the wood alone," said Eavenswood ; "to see her once 
 more can be of little consequence, after the frequent meetings 
 we have had. I ought, too, in courtesy, to apprise her of my 
 intention to quit the castle." 
 
 And having thus satisfied himself that he was taking not 
 only a wise, but an absolutely necessary, step, he took the path 
 to the fatal fountain. Henry no sooner saw him on the way 
 to join his sister than he was off like lightning in another 
 direction, to enjoy the society of the forester in their congenial 
 pursuits. Ravenswood, not allowing himself to give a second 
 thought to the propriety of his own conduct, walked with a 
 quick step towards the stream, where he found Lucy seated 
 alone by the ruin. 
 
 She sat upon one of the disjointed stones of the ancient 
 fountain, and seemed to watch the progress of its current, as it 
 bubbled forth to daylight, in gay and sparkling profusion, from 
 under the shadow of the ribbed and darksome vault, with 
 which veneration, or perhaps remorse, had canopied its source. 
 To a superstitious eye, Lucy Ashton, folded in her plaided 
 mantle, with her long hair, escaping partly from the snood and 
 falling upon her silver neck, might have suggested the idea of 
 the murdered Nymph of the Fountain. But Ravenswood only 
 saw a female exquisitely beautiful, and rendered yet more so 
 in his eyes — how could it be otherwise ? — by the consciousness 
 that she had placed her affections on him. As he gazed on 
 her, he felt his fixed resolution melting like wax in the sun, 
 and hastened, therefore, from his concealment in the neigh- 
 boring thicket. She saluted him, but did not arise from 
 the stone on which she was seated. 
 
 "My madcap brother," she said, "has left me, but I ex- 
 pect him back in a few minutes ; for, fortunately, as anything 
 pleases him for a minute, nothing has charms for him much 
 longer." 
 
 Ravenswood did not feel the power of informing Lucy 
 that her brother meditated a distant excursion, and would not 
 return in haste. He sat himself down on the grass, at some 
 little distance from Miss Ashton, and both were silent for a 
 short space. 
 
 "I like this spot," said Lucy at length, as if she had 
 found the silence embarrassing ; " the bubbling murmur of the 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR 177 
 
 clear fountain, the waving of the trees, the profusion of grass 
 and wild-flowers that rise among the ruins, make it like a 
 scene in romance. I think, too, I have heard it is a spot 
 connected with the legendary lore which I love so well." 
 
 "It has been tliought," answered Ravenswood, "a fatal 
 spot to my family ; and I have some reason to term it so, for 
 it was here I first saw Miss Ashton ; and it is here I must take 
 my leave of her forever,"" 
 
 The blood, which the first part of this speech called into 
 Lucy"s cheeks, was speedily expelled by its conclusion. 
 
 "To take leave of us. Master!" she exclaimed ; "what 
 can have happened to hurry you away ? I know Alice hates 
 — I mean dislikes my father ; and I hardly understood her 
 humor to-day, it was so mysterious. But I am certain my 
 father is sincerely grateful for the high service you rendered 
 us. Let me hope that, having won your friendship hardly, 
 we shall not lose it lightly." 
 
 " Lose it. Miss Ashton ! " said the Master of Eavenswood. 
 '* No ; wherever my fortune calls me — whatever she inflicts 
 upon me — it is your friend — your sincere friend, who acts or 
 suffers. But there is a fate on me, and I must go, or I shall 
 add the ruin of others to my own." 
 
 "Yet do not go from us. Master," said Lucy; and she 
 laid her hand, in all simplicity and kindness, upon the skirt 
 of his cloak, as if to detain him. " You shall not part from 
 us. My father is powerful, he has friends that are more so 
 than himself ; do not go till you see what his gratitude will 
 do for you. Believe me, he is already laboring in your 
 behalf with the council." 
 
 " It may be so, " said the Master, proudly ; "yet it is not 
 to your father. Miss Ashton, but to my own exertions, that 
 I ought to owe success in the career on which I am about to 
 enter. My preparations are already made — a sword and a 
 cloak, and a bold heart and a determined hand." 
 
 Lucy covered her face with her hands, and the tears, in 
 spite of her, forced their way between her fingers. 
 
 "Forgive me," said Eavenswood, taking her right hand, 
 which, after slight resistance, she yielded to him, still continu- 
 ing to shade her face with the left — "I am too rude — too 
 rough — too intractable to deal with any being so soft and gentle 
 as you are. Forget that so stern a vision has crossed your 
 path of life ; and let me pursue mine, sure that I can meet 
 Avith no worse misfortune after the moment it divides me from 
 your side. " 
 
 Lucy wept on, but her tears were less bitter. Each 
 
178 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 attempt which tlie Master made to explain his purpose of 
 departure only proved a new evidence of his desire to stay ; 
 until, at length, instead of bidding her farewell, he gave his 
 faith to her forever, and received her troth in return. The 
 whole passed so suddenly, and arose so much out of the 
 immediate impulse of the moment, that ere the Master of 
 Ravenswood could reflect upon the consequences of the step 
 which he had taken, their lips, as well as their hands, had 
 pledged the sincerity of their affection. 
 
 "And now," he said, after a moment's consideration, " it 
 is fit I should speak to Sir William Ashton ; he must know 
 of our engagement. Eavenswood must not seem to dwell 
 under his roof to solicit clandestinely the affections of his 
 daughter." 
 
 "You would not speak to my father on the subject ?'" 
 said Lucy, doubtingly ; and then added more warmly, " 
 do not — do not ! Let your lot in life be determined — your 
 station and purpose ascertained, before you address my father. 
 I am sure he loves you — I think he will consent ; but then 
 my mother \" ■ 
 
 She paused, ashamed to express the doubt she felt how 
 far her father dared to form any positive resolution on this 
 most important subject without the consent of his lady. 
 
 " Your mother, my Lucy ! " replied Ravenswood. " She 
 is of the house of Douglas, a house that has intermarried 
 with mine even when its glory and power were at the high- 
 est ; what could your mother object to my alliance ?" 
 
 " I did not say object," said Lucy ; "but she is jealous of 
 her rights, and may claim a mother's title to be consulted in 
 the first instance." 
 
 " Be it so," replied Ravenswood. " London is distant, 
 but a letter will reach it and receive an answer within a fort- 
 night ; I will not press on the Lord Keeper for an instant 
 reply to my proposal." 
 
 " But," hesitated Lucy, "were it not better to wait — tc 
 wait a few weeks ? Were my mother to see you — to know 
 you, I am sure she would approve ; but you are unacquainted 
 personally, and the ancient feud between the families " 
 
 Ravenswood fixed upon her his keen dark eyes, as if he 
 was desirous of penetrating into her very soul. 
 
 " Lucy," he said, "I have sacrificed to you projects of 
 vengeance long nursed, and sworn to with ceremonies little 
 better than heathen — I sacrificed them to your image, ere I 
 knew the worth which it represented. In the evening whicli 
 succeeded my poor father's funeral, I cut a lock from my hair. 
 
TBB BBIDE OF LAMMERMOOR 179 
 
 and, as it consumed in the fire, swore that my rage and re- 
 venge should pursue his enemies, until they shrivelled before 
 me like that scorched-up symbol of annihilation." 
 
 "It was a deadly sin," said Lucy, turning pale, "to make 
 a vow so fatal." 
 
 "I acknowledge it," said Ravenswood, "and it had been 
 a worse crime to keep it. It was for your sake that I abjured 
 these purposes of vengeance, though I scarce knew that such 
 was the argument by which I was conquered, until I saw you 
 once more, and became conscious of the influence you possessed 
 over me." 
 
 "And why do you now," said Lucy, "recall sentiments so 
 terrible — sentiments so inconsistent with those you profess for 
 me — with those your importunity has prevailed on me to ac- 
 knowledge ? " 
 
 " Because," said her lover, " I would impress on you the 
 price at which I have bought your love— the right I have to 
 expect your constancy. I say not that I have bartered for it 
 the honor of my house, its last remaining possession ; but 
 though I say it not, and think it not, I cannot conceal from 
 myself that the world may do both." 
 
 "If such are your sentiments," said Lucy, "you have 
 played a cruel game with me. But it is not too late to give 
 it over : take back the faith and troth which you could not 
 plight to me without suffering abatement of honor — let what 
 is passed be as if it had not been — forget me ; I will endeavor 
 to forget myself." 
 
 "You do me injustice," said the Master of Ravenswood — 
 " by all I hold true and honorable, you do me the extremity 
 of injustice; if I mentioned the price at which I have bought 
 your love, it is only to show how much I prize it, to bind our 
 engagement by a still firmer tie, and to show, by what I have 
 done to attain this station in your regard, how much I must 
 suffer should you ever break your faith." 
 
 "And why, Ravenswood," answered Lucy, "should you 
 think that possible ? Why should you urge me with even the 
 mention of infidelity ? Is it because I ask you to delay apply- 
 ing to my father for a little space of time ? Bind me by what 
 vows you please ; if vows are unnecessary to secure constancy, 
 they may yet prevent suspicion." 
 
 Ravenswood pleaded, apologized, and even kneeled, to 
 appease her displeasure ; and Luc}-, as placable as she was 
 single-hearted, readily forgave the offence which his doubts 
 had implied. The dispute thus agitated, however, ended by 
 the lovers going through an emblematic ceremony of their 
 
180 WAVERLEV NOVELS 
 
 troth-plight, of which the vulgar still preserve some traces. 
 They broke betwixt them the tliin broad-piece of gold which 
 Alice had refused to receive from Eavenswood. 
 
 "And never shall this leave my bosom," said Lucy, as she 
 hung the piece of gold round her neck, and concealed it with 
 her handkerchief, "until you, Edgar Eavenswood, ask me to 
 resign it to you ; and, while I wear it, never shall that heart 
 acknowledge another love than yours." 
 
 With like protestations, Eavenswood placed his portion of 
 the coin opposite to his heart. And now, at length, it struck 
 them that time had hurried fast on during this interview, 
 and their absence at the castle would be subject of remark, if 
 not of alarm. As they arose to leave the fountain which had 
 been witness of their mutual engagement, an arrow whistled 
 through the air, and struck a raven perched on the sere branch 
 of an old oak, near to where they had been seated. The bird 
 fluttered a few yards and dropped at the feet of Lucy, whose 
 dress was stained with some spots of its blood. 
 
 Miss Ashton was much alarmed, and Eavenswood, sur- 
 prised and angry, looked everywhere for the marksman, who 
 had given them a proof of his skill as little expected as desired. 
 He was not long of discovering himself, being no other than 
 Henry Ashton, who came running up with a crossbow in his 
 hand, 
 
 "I knew I should startle you," he said; "and do you 
 know, you looked so busy that I hoped it would have fallen 
 souse on your heads before you were aware of it. What was 
 the Master saying to you, Lucy ?" 
 
 "I was telling your sister what an idle lad you were, keep- 
 ing us waiting here for you so long," said Eavenswood, tc 
 save Lucy's confusion. 
 
 " Waiting for me ! Why, I told you to see Lucy home, 
 and that I was to go to make the ring- walk with old Norman 
 in the Hayberry thicket, and you may be sure that would 
 take a good hour, and we have all the deer's marks and fur- 
 nishes got, while you were sitting here with Lucy, like a lazy 
 loon." 
 
 " Well, well, Mr. Henry," said Eavenswood ; " but let 
 us see how you will answer to me for killing the raven. Do 
 you know, the ravens are all under the protection of the 
 Lords of Eavenswood, and to kill one in their presence is such 
 bad luck that it deserves the stab ? " 
 
 " And that's what Norman said," replied the boy : " he 
 came as far with me as within a flight-shot of you, and he 
 said he never saw a raven sit still so near livmg folK, and 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR 181 
 
 he wished it might be for good luck, for the raven is oae of 
 the wildest birds that flies, unless it be a tame one ; and so 
 I crept on and on, till I was within threescore yards of him, 
 and then whiz went the bolt, and there he lies, faith ! Was 
 it not well shot ? and, I dare say, I have not shot in a cross- 
 bow — not ten times, maybe." 
 
 " Admirably shot, indeed," said Eavenswood ; "and you 
 will be a fine marksman if you practise hard." 
 
 " And that's what Norman says," answered the boy ; " but 
 I am sure it is not my fault if I do not practise enougli ; for, 
 of free will, I would do little else, only my father and tutor are 
 angry sometimes, and only Miss Lucy there gives herself airs 
 about my being busy, for all she can sit idle by a well-side 
 the whole day, when she has a handsome young gentleman to 
 prate with. I have known her do so twenty times, if you 
 will believe me." 
 
 The boy looked at his sister as he spoke, and, in the 
 midst of his mischievous chatter, had the sense to see that he 
 was really inflicting pain upon her, though without being 
 able to comprehend the cause or the amount. 
 
 " Come now, Lucy," he said, " don't greet ; and if I have 
 said anything beside the mark, I'll deny it again ; and what 
 does the Master of Eavenswood care if you had a hundred 
 sweethearts ? so ne'er put finger in your eye about it." 
 
 The Master of Eavenswood was, for the moment, scarce 
 satisfied with what he heard ; yet his good sense naturally 
 regarded it as the chatter of a spoiled boy, who strove to mor- 
 tify his sister in the point which seemed most accessible for 
 the time. But, although of a temper equally slow in receiv- 
 ing impressions and obstinate in retaining them, the prattle 
 of Henry served to nourish in his mind some vague suspicion 
 that his present engagement might only end in his being 
 exposed, like a conquered enemy in a Eoman triumph, a cap- 
 tive attendant on the car of a victor who meditated only the 
 satiating his pride at the expense of the vanquished. There 
 was, we repeat it, no real ground whatever for such an appre- 
 hension, nor could he be said seriously to entertain such for a 
 moment. Indeed, it was impossible to look at the clear blue 
 eye of Lucy Ashton, and entertain the slightest permanent 
 doubt concerning the sincerity of her disposition. Still bow- 
 ever, conscious pride and conscious poverty combined to 
 render a mind suspicious which, in more fortunate circum- 
 stances, would have been a stranger to that as well as to every 
 other meanness. 
 
 They reached the castle, where Sir William Ashton, who 
 
182 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 had been alarmed by the length of their stay, met them in the 
 hall. 
 
 " Hal Lucy/' he said, ''been in any other company than 
 that of one who had shown he had so complete power of pro- 
 tecting her, he confessed he should have been very uneasy, 
 and would have dispatched persons in quest of them. But, 
 in the company of the Master of Eavenswood, he knew his 
 daughter had nothing to dread." 
 
 Lucy commenced some apology for their long delay, but, 
 conscience-struck, became confused as she proceeded ; and 
 when Ravens wood, coming to her assistance, endeavored to 
 render the explanation complete and satisfactory, he only 
 involved himself in the same disorder, like one who, endeav- 
 oring to extricate his companion from a slough, entangles 
 himself in the same tenacious swamp. It cannot be supposed 
 that the confusion of the two youthful lovers escaped the ob- 
 servation of the subtle lawyer, accustomed, by habit and pro- 
 fession, to trace human nature through all her windings. 
 But it was not his present policy to take any notice of what 
 he observed. He desired to hold the Master of Ravenswood 
 bound, but wished that he himself should remain free ; and 
 it did not occur to him that his plan might be defeated by 
 Lucy's returning the passion which he hoped she might in- 
 spire. If she should adopt some romantic feelings towards 
 Eavenswood, in which circumstances, or the positive and ab- 
 solute opposition of Lady Ashton, might render it unadvis- 
 able to indulge her, the Lord Keeper conceived they might 
 be easily superseded and annulled by a journey to Edinburgh, 
 or even to London, a new set of Brussels lace, and the soft 
 wliispers of half a dozen lovers, anxious to replace him whom 
 it was convenient she should renounce. This was his pro- 
 vision for the worst view of the case. But, according to its 
 more probable issue, any passing favor she might entertain 
 for the Master of Eavenswood might require encouragement 
 rather than repression. 
 
 This seemed the more likely, as he had that very morn- 
 ing, since their departure from the castle, received a letter, 
 the contents of which he hastened to communicate to Eavens- 
 wood. A foot-post had arrived with a packet to the Lord 
 Keeper from that friend whom we have already mentioned, 
 who was laboring hard underhand to consolidate a band of 
 patriots, at the head of whom stood Sir William's greatest 
 
 terror, the active and ambitious Marquis of A . The 
 
 success of this convenient friend had been such, that he had 
 obtained from Sir William, not indeed a directly favorable 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR 188 
 
 answer, but certainly a most patient hearing. This he had 
 jeported to his principal, who had replied by the ancient 
 '^"'rench adage, " Chateau quiparle, etfemme qui ecoute, Vun et 
 'autre va se rendre." A statesman who hears you propose a 
 ihange of measures without reply was, according to the Mar- 
 juis's opinion, in the situation of the fortress which parleys 
 :ind the lady who listens, and he resolved to press the siege 
 of the Lord Keej)er. 
 
 The packet, therefore, contained a letter from his friend 
 and ally, and another from himself, to the Lord Keeper, 
 frankly offering an unceremonious visit. They were cross- 
 ing the country to go to the southward ; the roads were indif- 
 ferent ; the accommodation of the inns as execrable as possi- 
 ble ; the Lord Keeper had been long acquainted intimately 
 with one of his correspondents, and, though more slightly 
 known to the Marquis, had yet enough of his lordship's 
 acquaintance to render the visit sufficiently natural, and to 
 shut the mouths of those who might be disposed to impute 
 it to a political intrigue. He instantly accepted the offered 
 visit, determined, however, that he would not pledge himself 
 an inch farther for the furtherance of their views than reasoii 
 (by which he meant his own self-interest) should plainly 
 point out to him as proper. 
 
 Two circumstances particularly delighted him — the pres- 
 ence of Eavenswood, and the absence of his own lady. By 
 having the former under his roof, he conceived he might be 
 able to quash all such hazardous and hostile proceediugs as 
 he might otherwise have been engaged in, under the patron- 
 age of the Marquis ; and Lucy, he foresaw, would make, for 
 his immediate purpose of delay and procrastination, a much 
 better mistress of his family than her mother, who would, he 
 was sure, in some shape or otlier, contrive to disconcert his 
 political schemes by her proud and implacable temper. 
 
 His anxious solicitations that the Master would stay to re- 
 ceive his kinsman, were, of course, readily complied with, since 
 the eclaircissement which had taken place at the Mermaiden's 
 Fountain had removed all wish for sudden departure. Lucy 
 and Lockhard had, therefore, orders to provide all things 
 necessary in their different departments, for receiving the ex- 
 pected guests with a pomp and display of luxury very uncom- 
 mon in Scotland at that remote period. 
 
CHAPTER XXI 
 
 Marall. Sir, the man of honor's come, 
 Newly aUghted 
 
 Overreach. In without reply, 
 And do as I command. . . . 
 Is the ioud music I gave order for 
 Ready to receive him ? 
 
 New Way to pay Old Debts. 
 
 Sir William Ashton, although a man of sense, legal infor- 
 mation, and great practical knowledge of the world, had yet 
 some points of character which corresponded better with the 
 timidity of his disjiosition and the supple arts by which he 
 had risen in the world, than to the degree of eminence which 
 he had attained ; as they tended to show an original medi- 
 ocrity of understanding, however highly it had been cultivated, 
 and a native meanness of disposition, however carefully 
 veiled. He loved the ostentatious display of his wealth, less 
 as a man to whom habit has made it necessary, than as one 
 to whom it is still delightful from its novelty. The most 
 trivial details did not escape him ; and Lucy soon learned to 
 watali the flush of scorn which crossed Ravenswood's cheek, 
 when he heard her father gravely arguing with Lockhard, 
 nay, even with the old housekeeper, upon circumstances 
 which, in families of rank, are left uncared for, because it is 
 supposed impossible they can be neglected. 
 
 " I could pardon Sir William," said Ravenswood, one 
 evening after he had left the room. " some general anxiety 
 upon this occasion, for the Marquis's visit is an honor, and 
 should be received as such ; but I am worn out by these miser- 
 able minutiae of the buttery, and the larder, and the very 
 hen-coop — they drive me beyond my patience ; I would rather 
 endure the poverty of Wolf's Crag than be pestered with the 
 wealth of Ravenswood Castle." 
 
 "And yet," said Lucy, "it was by attention to these 
 minutiae that my father acquired the property " 
 
 " Which my ancestors sold for lack of it," replied Ravens- 
 wood. " Be it so ; a porter still bears but a burden, though 
 the burden be of gold-" 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR 185 
 
 Lncy sighed ; she perceived too plainly that her lover held 
 in scorn the manners and habits of a father to whom she had 
 long looked up as her best and most partial friend, whose 
 fondness had often consoled her for her mother's contemptu- 
 ous harshness. 
 
 The lovers soon discovered that they differed upon other 
 and no less important topics. Religion, the mother of peace, 
 was, in those days of discord, so much misconstrued and mis- 
 taken, that her rules and forms were the subject of the most 
 opposite opinions and the most hostile animosities. The Lord 
 Keeper, being a Whig, was, of course, a Presbyterian, and had 
 found it convenient, at different periods, to express greater 
 zeal for the kirk than perhaps he really felt. His family, 
 equally of course, were trained under the same institution. 
 Ravenswood, as we know, was a Higli Churchman, or Epis- 
 copalian, and frequently objected to Lucy the fanaticism of 
 some of her own communion, while she intimated, rather than 
 expressed, horror at the latitudinarian principles which she 
 had been taught to think connected with the prelatical form 
 of church government. 
 
 Thus, although their mutual affection seemed to increase 
 rather than to l)e diminished as their characters opened more 
 fully on each other, tbe feelings of each were mingled with 
 some less agreeable ingredients. Lucy felt a secret awe, amid 
 all her affection for Ravenswood. His soul was of a higher, 
 prouder character than those with whom she had hitherto 
 mixed in intercourse ; his ideas were more fierce and free ; 
 and he contemned many of the opinions which had been in- 
 culcated upon her as chiefly demanding her veneration. On 
 the other hand, Ravenswood saw in Lucy a soft and flexible 
 character, which, in his eyes at least, seemed too susceptible 
 of being moulded to any form b}^ those with whom she lived. 
 He felt that his own temper required a partner of a more 
 independent spirit, who could set sail witli him on his course 
 of life, resolved as himself to dare indifferently tlie storm and 
 the favoring breeze. But Lucy was so beautiful, so devoutly 
 attached to him, of a temper so exquisitely soft and kind, 
 that, while he could have wished it were possible to inspire 
 her with a greater degree of firmness and resolution, and 
 while he sometimes became impatient of the extreme fear 
 which slie exjiressed of their attachment being prematurely 
 discovered, he felt that the softness of a mind, amounting 
 almost to feebleness, rendered her even dearer to him, as a 
 being who had voluntarily clung to him for protection, and 
 made him the arbiter of her fate for weal or woe. His feel- 
 
18« WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 ings towards her at such moments were those which have 
 been since so beautifully expressed by our immortal Joanna 
 Baillie : 
 
 Thou sweetest thing, 
 That e'er did fix its lightly-fibred sprays 
 To the rude rock, ah ! wouldst thou cling to me ? 
 Rough and storm-worn 1 am ; yet love me as 
 Thou truly dost, I will love thee again 
 With true and lionest heart, though all unmeet 
 To be the mate of such sweet gentleness. 
 
 Thus the very points in which they differed seemed, in 
 some measure, to insure the continuance of their mutual af- 
 fection. If, indeed, they had so fully appreciated each other's 
 character before the burst of passion in which they hastily 
 pledged their faith to each other, Lucy might have feared 
 Kavenswood too much ever to have loved him, and he might 
 have construed her softness and docile temper as imbecility, 
 rendering her unworthy of his regard. But they stood 
 pledged to each other ; and Lucy only feared that her lover's 
 pride might one day teach him to regret his attachment ; Ea- 
 venswood, that a mind so ductile as Lucy's might, in absence or 
 difficulties, be induced, by the entreaties or influence of those 
 around her, to renounce the engagement she had formed. 
 
 "Do not fear it," said Lucy, when upon one occasion a 
 hint of such suspicion escaped her lover ; "the mirrors which 
 receive the reflection of all successive objects are framed of 
 hard materials like glass or steel ; the softer substances, when 
 they receive an impression, retain it undefaced." 
 
 "This is poetry, Lucy," said EavensAvood ; "and in poetry 
 there is always fallacy, and sometimes fiction." 
 
 "Believe me, then, once more, "in honest prose," said 
 Lucy, "that, though I will never wed man without the con- 
 sent of my parents, yet neither force nor persuasion shall dis- 
 pose of my hand till you renounce the right I have given you 
 to it." 
 
 The lovers had ample time for such explanations. Henry 
 was noAv more seldom their companion, being either a most 
 unwilling attendant upon the lessons of his tutor, or a for- 
 ward volunteer under the instructions of the foresters or 
 grooms. As for the Keeper, his mornings were spent in his 
 study, maintaining correspondences of all kinds, and balanc- 
 ing in his anxious mind the various intelligence which he 
 collected from every quarter concerning the expected change 
 of Scottish politics, and the probable strength of the parties 
 who were about to struggle for poAver. At other times he 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR \87 
 
 busied himself aboiit arranging, and countermanding, and 
 then again arranging, the preparations which he judged 
 
 necessary for the reception of the Marquis of A , whose 
 
 arrival had been twice delayed by some necessary cause of 
 detention. 
 
 In tlie midst of all these various avocations, political and 
 domestic, he seemed not to observe how much his daughter and 
 his guest were thrown into each other's society, and was cen- 
 sured by many of his neighbors, according to the fashion of 
 neighbors in all countries, for suffering such an intimate con- 
 nection to take place betwixt two young persons. The only 
 natural explanation was, that he designed them for each other ; 
 while, in truth, his only motive was to temporize and procras- 
 tinate until he should discover the real extent of the interest 
 which the Marquis took in Ravenswood's affairs, and the 
 power which he was likely to possess of advancing them. 
 Until these points should be made both clear and manifest, 
 the Lord Keeper resolved that he would do nothing to com- 
 mit himself, either in one shape or other ; and, like many 
 cnnning persons, he over-reached himself deplorably. 
 
 Among those wlio had been disposed to censure, with the 
 greatest severity, the conduct of Sir William Ashton, in per- 
 mitting the prolonged residence of Eavenswood under his 
 roof, and his constant attendance on Miss Ashton, was the 
 new Laird of Grirnington, and his faithful squire and bottle- 
 holder, personages formerly well known to us by the names 
 of Hayston and Bucklaw, and his companion Captain Craig- 
 engelt. The former had at length succeeded to the extensive 
 property of his long-lived grandaunt, and to considerable 
 wealth besides, which he had employed in redeeming his pa- 
 ternal acres (by the title appertaining to which he still chose 
 to be designated), notwithstanding Captain Craigengelt had 
 proposed to him a most advantageous mode of vesting the 
 money in Law's scheme, which was just then broached, and 
 offered his services to travel express to Paris for the purpose. 
 But Bucklaw had so far derived wisdom from adversity, that 
 he would listen to no proposal which Craigengelt could invent, 
 which had the slightest tendency to risk his newly-acquired 
 indejiendence. He that had once eat pea- bannocks, drunk 
 sour wine, and slept in the secret chamber at Wolf's Crag, 
 would, he said, prize good cheer and a soft bed as long as he 
 lived, and take special care never to need such hospitality 
 again. 
 
 Craigengelt, therefore, found himself disappointed in tho 
 first hopes he had entertained of making a good hand of the 
 
188 WAVJUULJiJy JSOVEL8 
 
 Laird of Bucklaw. Still, however, he reaped mauy advan- 
 tages from his friend's good fortune. Bucklaw, who had 
 never been at all scrupulous in choosing his companions, was 
 accustom.ed to, and entertained by, a fellow whom he could 
 either laugh with or laugh at as he had a mind, who would 
 take, according to Scottish phrase, " the bit and the bulfet/^ 
 understood all sports, whether within or without doors, and, 
 when the laird had a mind for a bottle of wine (no infrequent 
 circumstance), was always ready to save him from the scandal 
 of getting drunk by himself. Upon these terms, Craigengelt 
 was the frequent, almost the constant, inmate of the house 
 of Girnington. 
 
 In no time, and under no possibility of circumstances, 
 could good have been derived from such an intimacy, however 
 its bad consequences might be qualified by the thorough 
 knowledge which Bucklaw possessed of his dependant's char- 
 acter, and the high contempt in which he held it. But, as 
 circumstances stood, this evil communication was particular- 
 ly liable to corrupt what good principles nature had im- 
 planted in the patron. 
 
 Craigengelt had never forgiven the scorn with which 
 Eavenswood had torn the mask of courage and honesty from 
 his countenance ; and to exasperate Bucklaw's resentment 
 against him was the safest mode of revenge which occurred 
 to his cowardly, yet cunning and malignant, disposition. 
 
 He brought up on all occasions the story of the challenge 
 which Eavenswood had declined to accept, and endeavored, 
 by every possible insinuation, to make his jDatron believe that 
 his honor was concerned in bringing that matter to an issue 
 by a present discussion with Eavenswood. But resi)ecting 
 this subject Bucklaw imposed on him, at length, a peremp- 
 tory command of silence. 
 
 "I think," he said, "the Master has treated me unlike a 
 gentleman, and I see no right he had to send me back a cava- 
 lier answer when I demanded the satisfaction of one. But 
 he gave me my life once ; and, in looking the matter over at 
 present, I put myself but on equal terms with him. Should 
 he cross me again, I shall consider the old account as bal- 
 anced, and his Mastership will do well to look to himself." 
 
 " That he should," re-echoed Craigengelt ; "for when you 
 are in practice, Bucklaw, I would bet a magnum you are 
 through him before the third pass." 
 
 " Then you know notliing of the matter," said Bucklaw, 
 "and you never saAv him fence." 
 
 *' And I know nothing of the matter ? " said the depend- 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR 189 
 
 ant — " A good jest, I promise you ! And though I never saw 
 Ravenswood fence, have I not been at Monsieur Sagoon's 
 school, who was the first maitre d'armes at Paris ; and have 
 I not been at Signer Poco'sat Florence, andMeinherr Durch- 
 stossen's at Vienna, and have I not seen all their play ? " 
 
 '"' I don't know whetlier you have or not," said Biicklaw ; 
 "but what about it, though you had ?" 
 
 " Only that I will be d — d if ever I saw French, Italian, 
 or High-Dutchman ever make foot, hand, and eye keep time 
 half so well as you, Bucklaw." 
 
 " I believe you lie, Craigie," said Bucklaw ; "however, I 
 can hold my own, both with single rapier, backsword, sword 
 and dagger, broadsword, or case of falchions — and that's as 
 much as any gentleman need know of the matter." 
 
 " And tlie double of what ninety-nine out of a hundred 
 know," said Craigengelt ; " they learn to change a few thrusts 
 with the small sword, and then, forsooth, they understand 
 the noble art of defence ! Now, when I was at Eouen in the 
 year 1695, there was a Chevalier de Chapon and I went to 
 the opera, where we found three bits of English birkies " 
 
 ••' Is it a long story you are going to tell ?" said Bucklaw, 
 interrupting him without ceremony. 
 
 " Just as you like," answered the parasite, "for we made 
 short work of it." 
 
 "Then I like it short," said Bucklaw. " Is it serious or 
 merry ? " 
 
 " Devilish serious, I assure you, and so they found it ; for 
 the Chevalier and I " 
 
 " Then I don't like it at all," said Bucklaw; "so fill a brim- 
 mer of my auld auntie's claret, rest her heart! And, as the 
 Hielandman says, Skiocli clock na skiaiU." 
 
 "That was what tough old Sir Evan Dhu used to say to 
 me when I was out with the metalled lads in 1689. ' Craig- 
 engelt,' he used to say, 'you are as pretty a fellow as ever 
 held steel in his grip, but j'ou have one fault.'" 
 
 " If he had known you as long as I have done,'^ said Buck- 
 law, "lie would have found out some twenty more ; but hang 
 long stories, give us your toast, man." 
 
 Craigengelt rose, went a- tiptoe to the door, peeped out, 
 shut it carefully, came back again, clapped his tarnished gold- 
 laced hat on one side of his head, took his glass in one hand, 
 and touching the hilt of his hanger with the other, named, 
 "The King over the water." 
 
 "I tell you what It is. Captain Craigengelt," said Buck- 
 law j "I shall keep my mind to myself on these subjects? 
 
190 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 having too much respect for the memory of my venerable 
 Girnington to put her lands and tenements in the way 
 oi committing treason against established authority. Bring 
 me King James to Edinburgh, Captain, with thirty thousand 
 men at his back, and I'll tell you what I think about his title ; 
 but as for running my neck into a noose, and my good broad 
 lands into the statutory penalties, 'in that case made and 
 provided,^ rely upon it, you will find me no such fool. So 
 when you mean to vapor with your hanger and your dram- 
 cup in support of treasonable toasts, you must find your liquor 
 and company elsewhere." 
 
 "Well, then," said Craigengelt, "name the toast your- 
 self, and be it what it like, I'll pledge you, were it a mile to 
 the bottom." 
 
 " And ril give you a toast that deserves it, my boy," said 
 Bucklaw ; " what say you to Miss Lucy Ashton ?" 
 
 " Up Avith it," said the Captain, as he tossed off his brim- 
 mer, "the bonniest lass in Lothian ! What a pity the old 
 sneckdrawing Whigamore, her father, is about to throw her 
 away upon that rag of pride and beggary, the Master of Ra- 
 venswood ! " 
 
 " That's not quite so clear," said Bucklaw, in a tone which, 
 though it seemed indifferent, excited his companion's eager 
 curiosity ; and not that only, but also his hope of working 
 himself into some sort of confidence, which might make him 
 necessary to his patron, being by no means satisfied to rest on 
 mere sufferance, if he could form by art or industry a more 
 permanent title to his favor. 
 
 "I thought," said he, after a moment's pause, "that was 
 a settled matter ; they are continually together, and nothing 
 else is spoken of betwixt Lammer Law and Traprain." 
 
 "They may say what they please," replied his patron, 
 ^'but I know better ; and I'll give you Miss Lucy Ashton's 
 health again, my boy." 
 
 " And I would drink it on my knee," said Craigengelt, "if 
 I thought the girl had the spirit to jilt that d — d son of a 
 Spaniard." 
 
 " I am to request you will not use the word ' jilt ' and Miss 
 Ashton's name together," said Bucklaw, gravely. 
 
 " Jilt, did I say ? Discard, my lad of acres — by Jove, I 
 meant to say discard," replied Craigengelt; "and I hope 
 she'll discard him like a small card at piquet, and take in the 
 king of hearts, my boy ! But yet " 
 
 " But what ? " said his patron. 
 
 " But yet I know for certain they are hours together alone^ 
 and in the woods and the fields/' 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR 191 
 
 ** That's lier foolish father's dotage ; that will be soon put 
 out of the lass's head, if it ever gets into it," answered Buck- 
 law. "And now fill your glass again. Captain ; I am going 
 to make you happy ; I am going to let you into a secret — a 
 plot — a noosing plot — only the noose is but typical." 
 
 "x\. marrying matter ?" said Craigengelt, and his jaw fell 
 as he asked the question ; for he suspected that matrimony 
 would render his situation at Girnington much more precari- 
 ous than during the jolly days of his patron's bachelorhood. 
 
 "Ay, a marriage, man," said Bucklaw ; "but wherefore 
 droops thy mighty spirit, and why grow the rubies on thy 
 cheek so pale ? The board will have a corner, and the corner 
 will have a trencher, and the trencher will have a glass beside 
 it ; and the board-end shall be filled, and the trencher and 
 the glass shall be replenished for thee, if all the petticoats in 
 Lothian had sworn tlie contrary. What, man ! I am not the 
 boy to put myself into leading-strings." 
 
 "So says many an honest fellow," said Craigengelt, " and 
 some of my special friends ; but, curse me if I know the rea- 
 son, the women could never bear me, and always contrived 
 to trundle me out of favor before the honeymoon was over." 
 
 "If you could have kept your ground till that was over, 
 you might have made a good year's pension," said Bucklaw. 
 
 " But I never could," answered the dejected parasite. 
 " There was my Lord Castle-Cuddy — we were hand and 
 glove : I rode his horses, borrowed money both for him and 
 from him, trained his hawks, and taught him how to lay his 
 bets ; and when he took a fancy of marrying, I married him 
 to Katie Grlegg, whom I thought myself as sure of as man 
 could be of woman. Egad, she had me out of the house, as 
 if I had run on wheels, within the first fortnight ! " 
 
 "Well !" replied Bucklaw, "I think I have nothing of 
 Castle-Cuddy about me, or Lucy of Katie Glegg. But you 
 see the thing will go on whether you like it or no ; the only 
 question is, will you be useful ? " 
 
 " Useful ! " exclaimed the Captain, " and to thee, my lad 
 of lands, my darling boy, whom I would tramp barefooted 
 through the world for ! Name time, place, mode, and cir- 
 cumstances, and see if I will not be useful iu all uses that can 
 be devised." 
 
 " Why, then, you must ride two hundred miles for me,*' 
 said the patron. 
 
 " A thousand, and call them a flea's leap," answered the 
 dependant ; " I'll cause saddle my horse directly." 
 
 " Better stay till you know where you are to go, and what 
 
193 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 you are to do," quoth Bucklaw. '' You know I nave a kins- 
 woman in Northumberland, Lady Blenkensop by name, whose 
 old acquaintance I had tlie misfortune to lose in the period of 
 my poverty, but the light of whose countenance shone forth 
 upon me when the sun of my prosjjerity began to arise/' 
 
 '' D — n all such double-faced jades I" exclaimed Craigen- 
 gelt, heroically ; " this I Avill say for John Craigengelt, that 
 he is his friend's friend through good report and bad report, 
 poverty and riches ; and you know something of that your- 
 self, Bucklaw." 
 
 " I have not forgot your merits," said his patron ; "I do 
 remember that, in my extremities, you had a mind to crimp 
 me for the service of the French king, or of the Pretender ; 
 and, moreover, that you afterwards lent me a score of pieces, 
 wlien, as I firmly believe, you had heard the news that old 
 Lady Girnington liad a touch of the dead palsy. But don't 
 be downcast, John ; I believe, after all, you like me very well 
 in your way, and it is my misfortune to have no better coun- 
 sellor at present. To return to this Lady Blenkensop, you 
 must know, she is a close confederate of Duchess Sarah." 
 
 "What! of Sail Jennings?" exclaimed Craigengelt; 
 **tlien she must be a good one." 
 
 "Hold your tongue, and keep your Tory rants to yourself, 
 if it be possible," said Bucklaw. "I tell you, that through 
 the Duchess of Marlborough has this Northumbrian cousin of 
 mine become a crony of Lady Ashton, the Keeper's wife, or, 
 I may say, the Lord Keeper's Lady Keeper, and she has fa- 
 vored Lady Blenkensop with a visit on her return from Lon- 
 don, and is just now at her old mansion-house on the banks of 
 the Wansbeck. Now, sir, as it has been the use and wont of 
 these ladies to consider their husbands as of no importance in 
 the management of their own families, it has been their ]3resent 
 pleasure, without consulting Sir AVilliam Ashton, to put on 
 the tapis a matrimonial alliance, to be concluded between Lucy 
 Ashton and my own right honorable self. Lady Ashton acting 
 as self-constituted plenipotentiary on the part of her daugh- 
 ter and husband, and Mother Blenkensop, equally unac- 
 credited, doing me the honor to be my representative. You 
 may suppose I was a little astonished when I found that a 
 treaty, in which I was so considerably interested, had ad- 
 vanced a good way before I was even consulted." 
 
 *'Capot me ! if I think that was according to the rules of 
 the game," said his confidant ; "and pray, what answer did 
 you return?" 
 
 *'Wh.y, my first thought was to send the treaty to the 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR 193 
 
 devil, and the negotiators along with it, for a couple of med- 
 dling old women ; my next was to laugh very heartily ; and 
 ray third and last was a settled opinion that the thing was rea- 
 sonable, and would suit me well enougli." 
 
 " Why, I thought you had never seen the wench but once, 
 and then she had her riding-mask on ; I am sure you told me 
 so." 
 
 " Ay, but I liked her very well then. And Ravenswood'a 
 dirty usage of me — shutting me out of doors to dine with the 
 lackeys, because he had the Lord Keeper, forsootli, and his 
 daughter, to be guests in his beggarly castle of starvation, — 
 d — n me, Craigengeit, if I ever forgive him till I play him as 
 good a trick ! " 
 
 '' No more you should, if you are a lad of mettle," said 
 Craigengeit, the matter now taking a turn in which he could 
 sympathize ; ''and if you carry this wench from him, it will 
 break his heart." 
 
 " That it will not," said Bucklaw ; " his heart is all 
 steeled over with reason and philosophy, things that you, 
 Craigie, know nothing about more than myself, God help 
 me. But it will break his pride, though, and that's what I'm 
 driving at." 
 
 " Distance me ! " said Craigengeit, " but I know the reason 
 now of his unmannerly behavior at his old tumble-down tower 
 yonder. Ashamed of your company ? — no, no ! Gad, he 
 was afraid you would cut in and carry off the girl." 
 
 "Eh! Craigengeit?" said Bucklaw, ''do you really 
 think so ? but no, no ! he is a devilish deal prettier man than 
 I am." 
 
 " Who— he ?" exclaimed the parasite. " He's as black aa 
 the crook ; and for his size — he's a tall fellow, to be sure, but 
 give me a light, stout, middle-sized " 
 
 "Plague on thee!" said Bucklaw, interrupting him, 
 " and on me for listening to you ! You would say as much 
 if I were hunch-backed. But as to Ravenswood — he has 
 kept no terms with me, I'll keep none with him ; if I can 
 win this girl from him, I will win her." 
 
 " Win her ! 'sblood, you shall win her, point, quint, and 
 quatorze, my king of trumps ; you shall pique, repique, and 
 oapot him." 
 
 " Prithee, stop thy gambling cant for one instant," said 
 Bucklaw. " Things have come thus far, that I have enter- 
 tained the proposal of my kinswoman, agreed to the terms of 
 jointure, amount of fortune, and so forth, and tliat the affair 
 is to go forward when Lady Ashton corner down, for she 
 
194 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 takes her daughter and her son in her own hand. Kow they 
 Avant me to send up a confidential person with some writmgs/' 
 
 " By tliis good wine, I'll ride to the end of the world — 
 the very gates of Jericho, and the judgment-seat of Prester 
 John, for thee ! " ejaculated the Captain. 
 
 '' Why, I believe you would do something for me, and a 
 great deal for yourself. Now, any one could carry the writ- 
 ings ; but you will have a little more to do. You must contrive 
 to drop out before my Lady Asliton, just as if it were a matter 
 of little consequence, the residence of Eavenswood at her 
 husband's house, and his close intercourse with Miss Ashton ; 
 and you may tell her that all the country talks of a visit from 
 
 the Marquis of A , as it is supposed, to make up the 
 
 match betwixt Eavenswood and her daughter. I should like 
 to hear what she says to all this ; for, rat me ! if I have any 
 idea of starting for the plate at all if Eavenswood is to win 
 the race, and he has odds against me already." 
 
 '' Never a bit ; the wench has too much sense, and in that 
 belief I drink her health a third time ; and, were time and 
 place fitting, I would drink it on bended knees, and he that 
 would not pledge me, I would make his guts garter his 
 stockings." 
 
 " Hark ye, Craigengelt ; as you are going into the society 
 of women of rank," said Bucklaw, "I'll thank you to forget 
 yo^^r strange blackguard oaths and ' damme's.' I'll write to 
 them, though, that you are a blunt, untaught fellow." 
 
 " Ay, ay, " replied Craigengelt — " a plain, blunt, honest, 
 downright soldier." 
 
 *' Not too honest, nor too much of the soldier neither ; but 
 such as thou art, it is my luck to need thee, for I must have 
 spurs put to Lady Ashton's motions." 
 
 " I'll dash them up to the rowel-heads," said Craigengelt ; 
 *' she shall come here at the gallop, like a cow chased by a 
 whole nest of hornets, and her tail twisted over her rump like 
 a corkscrew." 
 
 " And hear ye, Craigie," .said Bucklaw ; " your boots and 
 doublets are good enough to drink m, as the man says in the 
 play, but they are somewhat too greasy for tea-table service ; 
 prithee, get thyself a little better rigged out, and here is to 
 pay all charges." 
 
 " Nay, Bucklaw ; on my soul, man, you use me ill. How- 
 ever," added Craigengelt, pocketing the money, " if you will 
 have me so far indebted to you, I must be conforming." 
 
 *^Well, horse and away !" said the patron, *'so soon as 
 yon have got your riding livery in trim. You may ride the 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR 195 
 
 black crop-ear ; and, hark ye, I'll make you a present of him 
 to boot." 
 
 "1 drink to the good luck of my mission," answered the 
 ambassador, ''in a half-pint bumper." 
 
 " I thank ye, Craigie, and pledge you ; I see nothing against 
 it but the fatlier or the girl taking a tantrum, and I am told 
 the mother can wind them both round her little finger. Take 
 care not to affront her with any of your Jacobite Jargon." 
 
 "0 ay, true — she is a Whig, and a friend of old Sail of 
 Marlborough ; thank my stars, I can hoist any colors at a 
 pinch ! I have fought as hard under John Churchill as ever 
 I did under Dundee or the Duke of Berwick." 
 
 "I verily believe you, Craigie," said the lord of the man- 
 sion ; ''but, Craigie, do you, pray, step down to the cellar, 
 and fetch us up a bottle of tlie Burgundy, 1678 ; it is in the 
 fourth bin from the right-hand turn. And I say, Craigie, 
 you may fetch up half a dozen while you are aoout it. Egad, 
 we'll make a night on't ! " 
 
CHAPTER XXII 
 
 And soon they spied the merry-men green, 
 And eke the coach and four. 
 
 Duke upon Duke. 
 
 Oraigengelt set forth on his mission so soon as his equi 
 page was complete, prosecuted his journey with all diligence, 
 and accomplished his commission with all the dexterity for 
 which Bucklaw had given him credit. As he arrived with 
 credentials from Mr. Hayston of Bucklaw, he was extremely 
 welcome to both ladies ; and those who are prejudiced in 
 favor of a new acquaintance can, for a time at least, dis- 
 cover excellences in his very faults and perfections in his 
 deficiencies. Although both ladies were accustomed to good 
 society, yet, being predetermined to find out an agreeable and 
 well-behaved gentleman in Mr. Hayston^s friend, they suc- 
 ceeded wonderfully in imposing on themselves. It is true 
 that Craigengelt was now handsomely dressed, and that was 
 a point of no small consequence. But, independent of out- 
 ward show, his blackguard impudence of address was con- 
 strued into honorable bluntness, becoming his supposed 
 military profession ; his hectoring passed for courage, and his 
 sauciness for wit. Lest, however, any one should think this 
 a violation of probability, we must add, in fairness to the two 
 ladies, that tlieir discernment was greatly blinded, and their 
 favor propitiated, by the opportune arrival of Captain Craig- 
 engelt in the moment when they were longing for a third 
 hand to make a party at tredrille, in which, as in all games, 
 whether of chance or skill, that worthy person was a great 
 proficient. 
 
 When he found himself established in favor, his next 
 point was how best to use it for the furtherance of his patron's 
 views. He found Lady Ashton prepossessed strongly in favor 
 of the motion which Lady Blenkensop, partly from regard to 
 her kinsman, partly from the spirit of match-making, had not 
 hesitated to propose to her ; so that his task was an eas}^ one. 
 Bucklaw, reformed from his prodigality, was just the sort of 
 husband which she desired to have for her Shepherdess of 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR lOT 
 
 Lammermoor ; and while the marriage gave her an easy 
 fortune, and a respectable country gentleman for her husband. 
 Lady Asliton was of opinion that her destinies would be 
 fully and most favorably accomplished. It so chanced, also, 
 that Bucklaw, among his new acquisitions, had gained the 
 management of a little political interest in a neighboring 
 county, where the Douglas family originally held large posses- 
 sions. It was one of the bosom-hopes of Lady Aghton that 
 her eldest son, Sholto, should represent this county in the 
 British Parliament, and she saw this alliance with Bucklaw as 
 a circumstance which might be highly favorable to her 
 wishes. 
 
 Craigengelt, who, in his way, by no means wanted sagacity, 
 no sooner discovered in what quarter the wind of Lady Ash- 
 ton's wishes sat, than he trimmed his course accordingly. 
 ''There was little to prevent Bucklaw himself from sitting 
 for the county ; he must carry the heat — must walk the 
 course. Two cousins-german, six more distant kinsmen, his 
 factor and his chamberlain, were all hollow votes ; and 
 the Girnington interest had always carried, betwixt love and 
 fear, about as many more. But Bucklaw cared no more 
 about riding the first horse, and that sort of thing, than he. 
 Craigengelt, did about a game at birkie : it was a pity his in- 
 terest was not in good guidance." 
 
 All this Lady Ash ton drank in with willing and attentive 
 ears, resolving internally to be herself the person who should 
 take the management of the jiolitical influence of her destined 
 son-in-law, for the benefit of her eldest-born, Sholto, and all 
 other parties concerned. 
 
 When he found her ladyship thus favorably disposed, the 
 Captain proceeded, to use his employer's phrase, to set spurs 
 to her resolution, by hinting at the situation of matters at 
 Eavenswood Castle, the long residence which the heir of that 
 family had made with the Lord Keej^er, and the reports which 
 — though he M^ould be d — d ere he gave credit to either of 
 them — had been idly circulated in the neighborhood. It was 
 not the Captain's cue to appear himself to be uneasy on the 
 subject of these rumors ; but he easily saw from Lady Ash ton's 
 flushed cheek, hesitating voice, and flashing eye, that she had 
 caught the alarm which he intended to communicate. She 
 had not heard from her husband so often or so regularly as 
 she thought him bound in duty to have written, and of this 
 very interesting intelligence concerning his visit to the Tower 
 of Wolf's Crag, and the guest whom, with such cordiality, he 
 had received at Eavenswood Castle, he had suffered his lady 
 
198 WAVERLET NOVELS 
 
 to ivjmain altogether ignorant, until she now learned it by ilie 
 chaace information of a stranger. Such concealment ap- 
 proached, in her apprehension, to a misprision, at least, of 
 treason, if not to actual rebellion against her matrimonial 
 authority ; and in her inward soul did she vow to take ven- 
 geance on the Lord Keeper, as on a subject detected in 
 meditating revolt. Her indignation burned the more fiercely 
 as she found herself obliged to suppress it in presence of 
 Lady Blenkensop, the kinswoman, and of Craigengelt, the con- 
 fidential friend, of Bucklaw, of whose alliance she now 
 became trebly desirous, since it occurred to her alarmed im- 
 agina\:ion that her husband might, in his policy or timidity, 
 prefer that of Ravenswood. 
 
 The Captain was engineer enough to discover that the 
 train was fired ; and therefore heard, in the course of the 
 same day, without the least surprise, that Lady Ashton had 
 resolved to abridge her visit to Lady Blenkensop, and set 
 fortli with the peep of morning on her return to Scotland, 
 using all the dispatch which the state of the roads and the 
 mode of travelling would possibly permit. 
 
 Unhappy Lord Keeper ! little was he aware what a storm 
 was travelling towards him in all the speed with which an 
 old-fashioned coach and six could possibly achieve its journey. 
 He, like Don Gayferos, "forgot his lady fair and true," and 
 was only anxious about the expected visit of the Marquis ol 
 A . Soothfast tidings had assured him that this noble- 
 man was at length, and without fail, to honor his castle at 
 one in the afternoon, being a late dinner-hour ; and much 
 was the bustle in consequence of the annunciation. Tht 
 Lord Keeper traversed the chambers, held consultation with 
 the butler in the cellars, and even ventured, at the risk of a 
 demele with a cook of a spirit lofty enough to scorn the ad- 
 monitions of Lady Ashton herself, to peep into the kitchen. 
 Satisfied, at length, that everything was in as active a train 
 of preparation as was possible, he summoned Ravenswood and 
 his daughter to walk upon the terrace, for the purpose of 
 watching, from that commanding position, the earliest symp- 
 toms of his lordship's approach. For this purpose, with slow 
 and idle step, he paraded the terrace, which, flanked with a 
 heavy stone battlement, stretched in front of the castle upon 
 a level with the first story ; while visitors found access to the 
 court by a projecting gateway, the bartizan or flat-leaded roof 
 of which was accessible from the terrace by an easy flight of 
 low and broad steps. The whole bore a resemblance partly 
 to a castle, partly to a nobleman's seat ; and though caion- 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR 199 
 
 lated, in some respects, for defence, evinced that it had been 
 constructed under a sense of the power and security of the 
 ancient Lords of Eavenswood. 
 
 This pleasant walk commanded a beautiful and extensive 
 view. But what was most to our present purpose, there were 
 seen from the terrace two roads, one leading from the east, 
 and one from the westward, which, crossing a ridge opposed 
 to the eminence on which the castle stood, at different angles, 
 gradually approached each other, until they joined not far 
 from the gate of the avenue. It was to the westward approach 
 that the Lord Keeper, from a sort of fidgeting anxiety, his 
 daughter, from complaisance to him, and Eavenswood, though 
 feeling some symptoms of internal impatience, out of com- 
 plaisance to his daughter, directed their eyes to see the pre- 
 cursors of the Marquis's approach. 
 
 They were not long of presenting themselves. Two run- 
 ning footmen, dressed in white, with black jockey-caps, and 
 long staffs in their hands, headed the train ; and such was 
 their agility, that they found no difficulty in keeping 
 the necessary advance, which the etiquette of their station 
 required, before the carriage and horsemen. Onward thej 
 came at a long swinging trot, arguing unwearied speed in 
 their long-breathed calling. Such running footmen are often 
 alluded to in old plays (I would particularly instance Middle- 
 ton's Mad World, my 3£asfers),* and perhaps may be still 
 remembered by some old persons in Scotland, as part of the 
 retinue of the ancient nobility when travelling in full cere- 
 mony. Behind these glancing meteors, who footed it as if 
 the Avenger of Blood had been behind them, came a cloud of 
 dust, raised by riders who preceded, attended, or followed 
 the state-carriage of the Marquis. 
 
 The privilege of nobility, in those days, had something in 
 it impressive on the imagination. The dresses and liveries 
 and number of their attendants, their style of travelling, the 
 imposing, and almost warlike, air of the armed men who sur- 
 rounded them, placed them far above the laird, who travelled 
 with his brace of footmen ; and as to rivalry from the mer- 
 cantile part of the community, these would as soon have 
 thought of imitating the state equipage of the Sovereign. At 
 
 f)resent it is different ; and I myself, Peter Pattieson, in a 
 ate journey to Edinburgh, had the honor, in the mail-coach 
 phrase, to '-^ change a leg " with a peer of the realm. It was 
 not so in the days of which I write ; and the Marquis's ap- 
 proach, 60 long expected in vain, now took place in the full 
 
 * See Note 9. 
 
200 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 pomp of ancient aristocracy. Sir William Ashton was so 
 much interested in what he beheld, and in considering the 
 ceremonial of reception, in case any circumstance had been 
 omitted, that he scarce heard his son Henry exclaim, " There 
 is another coach and six coming down the east road, papa ; 
 
 can they both belong to the Marquis of A ? " 
 
 At length, when the youngster had fairly compelled hi? 
 attention by pulling his sleeve, 
 
 He turned his eyes, and, as he turn'd, surveyed 
 An awful vision. 
 
 Sure enough, another coach and six, with four servants or 
 outriders in attendance, was descending the hill from the 
 eastward, at such a pace as made it doubtful Avhich of the car- 
 riages thus approaching from different quarters would first 
 reach the gate at the extremity of the avenue. The one 
 coach was green, the other blue ; and not the green and blue 
 chariots in the circus of Rome or Constantinople excited more 
 turmoil among the citizens than the double apparition occa- 
 sioned in the mind of the Lord Keeper. 
 
 We all remember the terrible exclamation of the dying 
 profligate, when a friend, to destroy what he supposed the 
 hypochondriac idea of a spectre appearing in a certain shape 
 at a given hour, placed before him a person dressed up in the 
 manner he described. " Mon Dieu ! " said the expiring sin- 
 ner, who, it seems, saw both tlie real and polygraphic appari- 
 tion, " il y 671 a deux!" The surprise of the Lord Keeper 
 was scarcely less unpleasing at the duplication of the expected 
 arrival ; his mind misgave him strangely. There was no 
 neighbor who would have approached so unceremoniously, at 
 a time when ceremony was held in such respect. It must be 
 Lady Ashton, said his conscience, and followed up the hint 
 with an anxious anticipation of the purpose of her sudden and 
 unannounced return. He felt that he was caught "in the 
 manner.^' That the company in which she had so unluckily 
 surprised him was likely to be highly distasteful to her, there 
 was no question ; and the only hope which remained for him 
 was her high sense of dignified propriety, which, he trusted, 
 might prevent a public explosion. But so active were his 
 doubts and fears as altogether to derange his purposed cere- 
 monial for the reception of the Marquis. 
 
 These feelings of apprehension were not confined to Sir 
 William Ashton, " It is my mother — it is my mother ! " 
 said Lucy, turning as pale as ashes, and clasping her hands 
 together as she looked at Eavenswood. 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR 301 
 
 "And if it be Lady Ash ton," said her lover to her in a 
 low tone, "what can be the occasion of such alarm ? Surely 
 the return of a lady to the family from which she has been 
 so long absent should excite other sensations than those of 
 fear and dismay." 
 
 " You do not know my mother," said Miss Asliton, in a 
 tone almost breathless with terror ; " what will she say when 
 she sees you in this place ! " 
 
 "My stay has been too long," said Eavenswood, somewhat 
 haughtily, " if her displeasure at my presence is likely to be 
 so formidable. My dear Lucy," he resumed, in a tone of 
 soothing encouragement, "you are too childishly afraid of 
 Lady Ash ton ; she is a woman of family — a lady of fashion — 
 a person who must know the world, and what is due to her 
 husband and her husband's guests." 
 
 Lucy shook her head ; and, as if her mother, still at the 
 distance of half a mile, could have seen and scrutinized her de- 
 portment, she withdrew herself from beside Eavenswood, and, 
 taking her brother Henry's arm, led him to a different part of 
 the terrace. The Keeper also shuffled down towards the por- 
 tal of the great gate, without inviting Eavenswood to accom- 
 pany him ; and thus he remained standing alone on the 
 terrace, deserted and shunned, as it were, by the inhabitants of 
 the mansion. 
 
 This suited not the mood of oiie who was proud in propor- 
 tion to his poverty, and who thought that, in sacrificing his 
 deep-rooted resentments so far as to become Sir William Ash- 
 ton's guest, he conferred a favor, and received none. " T can 
 forgive Lucy," he said to himself ; "she is young, timid, and 
 conscious of an important engagement assumed without her 
 mother's sanction ; yet she should remember with whom it 
 has been assumed, and leave me no reason to suspect that she 
 is ashamed of her choice. For tlie Keeper, sense, spirit, and 
 expression seem to have left his face and manner since he had 
 the first glimpse of Lady Ashton's carriage. I must watch 
 how this is to end ; and, if they give me reason to think my- 
 self an unwelcome guest, my visit is soon abridged." 
 
 With these suspicions floating on his mind, he left the 
 terrace, and, walking towards the stables of the castle, gave 
 directions that his horse should be kept in readiness, in case 
 he should have occasion to ride abroad. 
 
 In the mean while, the drivers of the tAVO carriages, the 
 approach of which had occasioned so much dismay at the castle, 
 had become aware of each other's presence, as they approached 
 upon different lines to the head of the avenue, as a common 
 
203 WAVER LEY NOVELS 
 
 centre. Lady Ashton's driver and postilions instantly receive^ 
 orders to get foremost, if possible, her ladyshij) being desirous 
 of dispatching her first interview with her husband before the 
 arrival of these guests, whoever tliey might happen to be. On 
 the other hand, the coachman of the Marquis, conscious of 
 his own dignity and that of his master, and observing the 
 rival charioteer was mending his pace, resolved, like a true 
 brother of the whip, whether ancient or modern, to vindicate 
 his right of precedence. So that, to increase the confusion of 
 the Lord Keeper's understanding, he saw the short time which 
 remained for consideration abridged by the haste of the con- 
 tending coachmen, who, fixing their eyes sternly on each 
 other, and applying the lash smartly to their horses, began to 
 thunder down the descent with emulous rapidity, while the 
 horsemen who attended them were forced to put on to a hand- 
 gallop. 
 
 Sir William's only chance now remaining was the possi- 
 bility of an overturn, and that his lady or visitor might break 
 their necks. I am not aware that he formed any distinct wish 
 on the subject, but I have no reason to think that his grief in 
 either case would have been altogether inconsolable. This 
 chance, however, also disappeared ; for Lady Ashton, though 
 insensible to fear, began to see the ridicule of running a race 
 with a visitor of distinction, the goal being the portal of her 
 own castle, and commanded her coachman, as they approached 
 the avenue, to slacken his pace, and allow precedence to the 
 stranger's equipage ; a command which he gladly obeyed, as 
 coming in time to save his honor, the horses of the Marquis's 
 carriage being better, or, at least, fresher than his own. He 
 restrained his pace, therefore, and suffered the green coach to 
 enter the avenue, with all its retinue, which pass it occupied 
 with the speed of a whirlwind. The Marquis's laced chari- 
 oteer no sooner found the pass d'avance was granted to him 
 than he resumed a more deliberate pace, at which he advanced 
 under the embowering shade of the lofty elms, surrounded by 
 all the attendants ; while the carriage of Lady Ashton fol- 
 lowed, still more slowly, at some distance. 
 
 In the front of the castle, and beneath the portal which ad- 
 mitted guests into the inner court, stood Sir William Ashton, 
 much perplexed in mind, his younger son and daughter be- 
 side him, and in their rear a train of attendants of various 
 ranks, in and out of livery. The nobility and gentry of Scot- 
 land, at this period, were remarkable even to extravagance 
 for the number of their servants, whose services were easily 
 purchased in a country where men were numerous beyoud 
 proportion to the means of employing them. 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR 208 
 
 The manners of a man trained like Sir William Av,iton 
 are too much at his command to remain long disconcerted 
 with the most adverse concurrence of circumstances. He re- 
 ceived the Marquis, as he alighted from his equipage, with 
 the usual compliments of welcome ; and, as he ushered him 
 into the great hall, expressed his hope that his journey had 
 been pleasant. The Marquis was a tall, well-made man, with 
 a thoughtful and intelligent countenance, and an eye in which 
 the fire of ambition had for some years replaced the vivacity 
 jf youth ; a bold, proud, expression of countenance, yet 
 chastened by habitual caution, and the desire which, as the 
 head of a party, he necessarily entertained of acquiring popu- 
 larity. He answered with courtesy the courteous inquiries of 
 the Lord Keeper, and was formally presented to Miss Ashton, 
 In the course of which ceremony the Lord Keeper gave the 
 first symptom of what was chiefly occupying his mind, by 
 Introducing his daughter as " his wife. Lady Ashton." 
 
 Lucy blushed ; the Marquis looked surprised at the ex- 
 tremely juvenile appearance of his hostess, and the Lord 
 Keeper with difficulty rallied himself so far as to explain. 
 " I should have said my daughter, my lord ; but the truth is, 
 that I saw Lady Ashton's carriage enter the avenue shortly 
 after your lordship's, and " 
 
 " Make no apology, my lord," replied his noble guest ; 
 *' let me entreat you will wait on your lady, and leave me to 
 cultivate Miss Ashton's acquaintance. I am shocked my peo- 
 ple should have taken precedence of our hostess at her own 
 gate ; but your lordship is aware that I supposed Lady Ash- 
 ton was still in the south. Permit me to beseech you will 
 waive ceremony, and hasten to welcome her." 
 
 This was precisely what the Lord Keeper longed to do ; 
 and he instantly profited by his lordship's obliging permission. 
 To see Lady Ashton, and encounter the first burst of her dis- 
 pleasure in private, might prepare her, in some degree, to re- 
 ceive her unwelcome guests with due decorum. As her car- 
 riage, therefore, stopped, the arm of the attentive husband 
 vas ready to assist Lady Ashton in dismounting. Looking 
 as if she saw him not, she put his arm aside, and requested 
 that of Captain Craigengelt, who stood by the coach ^^ith his 
 laced hat under his arm, having acted as cavaUcre servente, 
 or squire in attendance, during the journey. Taking hold of 
 this respectable person's arm as if to support her. Lady Ash- 
 ton traversed the court, uttering a word or two by way of di- 
 rection to the servants, but not one to Sir William, who in 
 fain endeavored to attract her attention, as he rather fol- 
 
304 WA VERLEY NOVELS 
 
 lowed than accompanied her into the hall, in which they 
 found the Marquis in close conversation with the Master of 
 Ravenswood. Lucy had taken the first opportunity of es- 
 caping. There was embarrassment on every countenance 
 
 except that of the Marquis of A ; for even Craigengelt's 
 
 impudence was hardly able to veil his fear of Ravenswood, 
 and the rest felt the awkwardness of the position in which 
 they were thus unexpectedly placed. 
 
 After waiting a moment to be presented by Sir William 
 Ash ton, the Marquis resolved to introduce himself. " The 
 Lord Keeper,'" he said, bowing to Lady Ashton, " has just 
 introduced to me his daughter as his wife ; he might very 
 easily present Lady Ashton as his daughter, so little does she 
 differ from what I remember her some years since. Will she 
 permit an old acquaintance the privilege of a guest ? " 
 
 He saluted the lady with too good a grace to apprehend a 
 repulse, and then proceeded — " This, Lady Ashton, is a peace- 
 making visit, and therefore I presume to introduce my cousin, 
 the young Master of Ravenswood, to your favorable notice.'' 
 
 Lady Ashton could not choose but courtesy ; but there 
 was in her obeisance an air of haughtiness approaching to 
 contemptuous repulse. Ravenswood could not choose but 
 bow ; but his manner returned the scorn with which he had 
 been greeted. 
 
 "Allow me," she said, "'to present to your lordship my 
 friend." Craigengelt, with the forward impudence which 
 men of his cast mistake for ease, made a sliding bow to the 
 Marquis, which he graced by a flourish of his gold-laced hat. 
 The lady turned to her husband. " You and I, Sir William," 
 she said, and these were the first words she had addressed to 
 him, "have acquired new acquaintances since we parted ; let 
 me introduce the acquisition I have made to mine — Captain 
 Craigengelt." 
 
 Another bow, and another flourish of the gold-laced hat, 
 which was retv.rned by the Lord Keeper without intimation 
 of former recognition, and with that sort of anxious readi- 
 ness which intimated his wish that peace and amnesty should 
 take place betwixt the contending parties, including the aux- 
 iliaries on both sides. " Let me introduce you to the Master 
 of Ravenswood," said he to Captain Craigengelt, following 
 np the same amicable system. 
 
 But the Master drew up his tall form to the full extent 
 of his height, and without so much as looking towards the 
 person thus introduced to him, he said, in a marked tone, 
 " Captain Craigengelt and I are already perfectly well ac- 
 quainted with each other/* . 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR aOft 
 
 " Perfectly — perfectly," replied the Captain, in a mum- 
 bling tone, like that of a double echo, and with a flourish of 
 his hat, the circumference of which was greatly abridged, 
 compared with those which had so cordially graced his intro- 
 duction to the Marquis and the Lord Keeper. 
 
 Lockhard, followed by three menials, now entered with 
 wine and refreshments, which it was the fashion to offer as a 
 whet before dinner ; and when tliey were placed before the 
 guests. Lady Ashton made an apology for withdrawing her 
 husband from them for some minutes upon business of special 
 import. The Marquis, of course, requested her ladyship 
 would lay herself under no restraint ; and Craigengelt, bolt- 
 ing with speed a second glass of racy canary, hastened to 
 leave the room, feeling no great pleasure in the prospect of 
 
 being left alone with the Marquis of A and the Master 
 
 of Ravenswood ; the presence of the former holding him in 
 awe, and that of the latter in bodily terror. 
 
 Some arrangements about his horse and baggage formed 
 the pretext for his sudden retreat, in which he persevered, 
 although Lady Ashton gave Lockhard orders to be careful 
 most particidarly to accommodate Captain Craigengelt with 
 all the attendance which he could possibly require. The 
 Marquis and the Master of Ravenswood were thus left to 
 communicate to e:ich other their remarks upon the reception 
 which they had met with, while Lady Ashton led the way, 
 and her lord followed somewhat like a condemned criminal, 
 to her ladyship's dressing-room. 
 
 So soon as the spouses had both entered, her ladyship 
 gave way to that fierce audacity of temper which she had 
 with difficulty suppressed, out of respect to appearances. 
 She shut the door behind the alarmed Lord Keeper, took the 
 key out of the spring-lock, and with a countenance which 
 years had not Ijereft of its haughty charms, and eyes which 
 spoke at once resolution and resentment, she addressed her 
 astounded husband in these words : " My lord, I am not greatly 
 surprised at the connections you have been pleased to form 
 during my absence, they are entirely in conformity with 
 your birth and breeding ; and if I did expect anything else, 
 I heartily own my error, and that I merit, by having done so, 
 the disappointment you had prepared for me." 
 
 '' My dear Lady Ashton — my dear Eleanor [Margaret]," 
 said the Lord Keeper, "listen to reason for a moment, and 
 I will convince you I have acted with ;ill the regard due to 
 the dignity, as well as the interest, of my family." 
 
 "To the interest of your family I conceive you perfectly 
 
m WAVE RLE Y NOVELS 
 
 capable of attending," returned the indignant lady, ^' and 
 even to the dignity of your own family also, as far as it re- 
 quires any looking after. But as mine happens to be inex- 
 tricably involved with it, you will excuse me if I choose to 
 give my own attention so far as that is concerned," 
 
 " What would you have, Lady Ashton ? " said the hus- 
 band. " What is it that displeases you ? Why is it that, on 
 your return after so long an absence, I am arraigned in this 
 manner ? " 
 
 " Ask your own conscience. Sir William, what has 
 prompted you to become a renegade to your political party and 
 opinions, and led you, for what I know, to be on the point 
 of marrying your only daughter to a beggarly Jacobite bank- 
 rupt, the inveterate enemy of your family to the boot." 
 
 " Why, what, in the name- of common sense and common 
 civility, would you have me do, madam ? " answered her hus- 
 band. " Is it possible for me, with ordinary decency, to turn 
 a young gentleman out of my house, who saved my daughter's 
 life and my own, but the other morning, as it Avere ? " 
 
 " Saved your life ! I have heard of that story," said the 
 lady. " The Lord Keejier was scared by a dun cow, and he 
 takes the young fellow who killed her for Guy of W^arwick : 
 any butcher from Haddington may soon have an equal claim 
 on your hospitality." 
 
 "Lady Ashton," stammered the Keeper, ''this is intoler- 
 able ; and when I am desirous, too, to make you easy by any 
 sacrifice, if you would but tell me what you would be at." 
 
 " Go down to your guests," said the imperious dame, " and 
 make your apology to Ravenswood, that the arrival of Captain 
 Craigengelt and some other friends renders it impossible for 
 you to offer him lodgings at the castle. I expect young Mr. 
 Hayston of Bucklaw." 
 
 '•' Good heavens, madam ! " ejaculated her husband. 
 "Ravenswood to give place to Craigengelt, a common gambler 
 and an informer ! It was all I could do to forbear desiring 
 the fellow to get out of my house, and I was much surprised 
 to see him in your ladyship's train." 
 
 "Since you saw him there, you might be well assured," 
 answered this meek helpmate, "that he was proper society. 
 As to this Ravenswood, he only meets with the treatment 
 which, to my certain knowledge, he gave to a much-valued 
 friend of mine, who had the misfortune to be his guest some 
 time since. But take your resolution ; for, if Ravenswood 
 does not quit the house, I will." 
 
 Sir William Ashton paced up and down the apartment ir 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR 207 
 
 the most distressing agitation ; fear, and shame, and anger 
 contending against the habitual deference he was in the use 
 of rendering to his kdy. At length it ended, as is usual with 
 timid minds placed in such circumstances, in his adopting a 
 mezzo t ermine — a middle measure. 
 
 "I tell you frankly, madam, I neither can nor will be 
 guilty of the incivility you proj^ose to the Master of Eavens- 
 wood ; he has not deserved it at my hand. If you will be so 
 unreasonable as to insult a man of quality under your own 
 roof, I cannot prevent you ; but I will not at least be the 
 agent in such a j^reposterous proceeding." 
 
 " You will not ?" asked the lady. 
 
 "1^0, by heavens, madam !" her husband replied; '''ask 
 me anything congruent with common decency, as to drop hi? 
 acquaintance by degrees, or the like ; but to bid him leave my 
 house is what I will not and cannot consent to." 
 
 " Then the task of supporting the honor of the family Avill 
 fall on me, as it has often done before," said the lady. 
 
 She sat down, and hastily wrote a few lines. The Lord 
 Keeper made another effort to prevent her taking a step so 
 decisive, just as she opened the door to call her female at- 
 tendant from the anteroom. "'Think what you are doing, 
 Lady Ashton : you are making a mortal enemy of a young 
 man who is like to have the means of harming us " 
 
 ''Did you ever know a Douglas who feared an enemy ^" 
 answered the lady, contemptuously. 
 
 " Ay, but he is as proud and vindictive as a hundred 
 Douglasses, and a hundred devils to boot. Think of it for 
 a night only." 
 
 " Not for another moment," answered the lady. . " Here, 
 Mrs. Patullo, give this billet to young Eavenswood." 
 
 " To the Master, madam ? " said Mrs. Patullo. 
 
 "Ay, to the Master, if you call him so." 
 
 " I wash my hands of it entirely," said the Keeper ; " and 
 I shall go down into the garden and see that Jardine gathers 
 the winter fruit for the dessert." 
 
 "Do so," said the lady, looking after him with glances of 
 infinite contempt ; " and thank God that you leave one be- 
 hind you as fit to protect the honor of the family as you are 
 to look after pippins and pears." 
 
 The Lord Keeper remained long enough in the garden to 
 give her ladyship's mind time to explode, and to let, as he 
 thought, at least the first violence of Eavenswood's displeasure 
 blow over. When he entered the hall, he found the ]Marquis 
 of A giving orders to some of his attendants. He seemed 
 
208 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 in high displeasure, and interrupted an apology which Sk 
 William had commenced for having left liis lordship alone. 
 
 " I presume, Sir William, you are no stranger to this 
 singular billet with which mii kinsman of Eavenswood [an 
 emphasis on the word "• my "\ has been favored by your lady ; 
 and, of course, that you are prepared to receive my adieus. 
 My kinsman is already gone, having thought it unnecessary 
 to offer any on his part, since all former civilities had been 
 cancelled by this singular insult." 
 
 "I protest, my lord," said Sir William, holding the billet 
 in his hand, "'I am not privy to the contents of this letter. 
 I know Lady Ashton is a warm-tempered and prejudiced 
 woman, and I am sincerely sorry for any offence that has been 
 given or taken ; but I hope your lordship will consider that 
 a lady " 
 
 '"Should bear herself towards persons of a certain rank 
 with the breeding of one," said the Marquis, comjDleting the 
 half -uttered sentence. 
 
 ''True, my lord," said the unfortunate Keeper; "but 
 Lady Ashton is still a woman " 
 
 "And as such, methinks," said the Marauis. again inter- 
 rupting him, "should be taught the duties which correspond 
 to her station. But here she comes, and I will learn from 
 her own mouth the reason of this extraordinary and unex- 
 pected affront offered to my near relation, while both lie and 
 I were her ladyship's guests." 
 
 Lady Ashton accordingly entered the apartment at this 
 moment. Her dispute with Sir William, and a subsequent 
 interview with her daughter, had not prevented her from at- 
 tending to the duties of her toilette. She appeared in full 
 dress ; and, from the character of her countenance and man- 
 ner, well became the splendor with which ladies of quality 
 then appeared on sucli occasions. 
 
 The Marquis of A bowed haughtily, and she returned 
 
 the salute with equal pride and distance of demeanor. He 
 then took from the passive hand of Sir William Asliton the 
 billet he had given him the moment before he approached 
 the lady, and was about to speak, when she interrupted him. 
 *'I perceive, my lord, you are about to enter upon an un- 
 pleasant subject. I am sorry any such should have occurred 
 at this time, to interrupt in the slightest degree the respect- 
 ful reception due to your lordship ; but so it is. Mr. Edgar 
 Eavenswood, for whom I have addressed the billet in your 
 lordship's hand, has abused the hospitality of this family, and 
 Sir William Ashton's softness of temper^ in order to seduce a 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR 209 
 
 young person into engagements without her parents' consent, 
 and of which they never can approve." 
 
 Both gentlemen answered at once. "My kinsman is inca- 
 pable " said the Lord Marquis. 
 
 "I am confident that my daughter Lucy is still more in- 
 capable " said the Lord Keeper. 
 
 Lady Ashton at once interrupted and replied to them both. 
 "My Lord Marquis, your kinsman, if Mr. Ravenswood has 
 the honor to be so, has made the attempt privately to secure 
 the affections of this young and inexperienced girl. 8ir Will- 
 iam Ashton, your daughter has been simple enough to give 
 more encouragement than she ought to have done to so very 
 improper a suitor." 
 
 "And I think, madam," said the Lord Keeper, losing his 
 accustomed temper and patience, "that if 3'Ou had nothing 
 better to tell us, you had better have kept this family secret 
 to yourself also." 
 
 " You will pardon me, Sir William," said the lady, calmly ; 
 "^tlie noble Marquis has a right to know the cause of the treat- 
 ment I have found it necessary to use to a gentleman whom 
 he calls his blood-relation." 
 
 "It is a cause," muttered the Lord Keeper, "which has 
 emerged since the effect has taken place ; for, if it exists at 
 all, I am sure she knew nothing of it when her letter to Ra- 
 venswood was written." 
 
 "It is the first time that I have heard of this," said the 
 Marquis; "but, since your ladyship has tabled a subject so 
 delicate, permit me to say, that my kinsman's birth and con- 
 nections entitled him to a patient hearing, and at least a civil 
 refusal, even in case of his being so ambitious as to raise his 
 eyes to the daughter of Sir William Ashton." 
 
 " You will recollect, my lord, of what blood Miss Lucy 
 Ashton is come by the mother's side," said the la^j. 
 
 "I do remember your descent — from a younger branch of 
 the house of Angus," said the Marquis ; " and your ladyship 
 — forgive me, lady — ought not to forget that the Ravenswoods 
 have thrice intermarried with the main stem. Come, madam, 
 I know how matters stand — old and long-fostered prejudices 
 are difficult to get over, I make every allowance for them ; I 
 ought not, and I would not, otherwise have suffered my kins- 
 man to depart alone, expelled, in a manner, from this house, 
 but I had hopes of being a mediator. I am still unwilling to 
 leave you in anger, and shall not set forward till after noon, 
 as I rejoin the Master of Ravenswood upon the road a few 
 miles from hence. Let us ^-alk over this matter more coolly." 
 
210 WAVEBLEY NOVELS 
 
 '' It is what I anxiously desire, my lord/' said Sir William 
 Ashton, eagerly. "Lady Asliton, we will not permit my 
 
 Lord of A to leave us in displeasure. We must compel 
 
 him to tarry dinner at the castle." 
 
 "■ The castle," said the lady, " and all that it contains, are 
 at the command o.f the Marquis, so long as he chooses to honor 
 It with his residence ; but touching the farther discussion of 
 this disagreeable topic " 
 
 "Pardon me, good madam,'' said the Marquis; " but I 
 cannot allow you to express any hasty resolution on a subject 
 so important. I see that more company is arriving ; and, 
 since I have the good fortune to renew my former acquaint- 
 ance with Lady Ashton, I hope she will give me leave to avoid 
 perilling what I prize so highly upon any disagreeable subject 
 of discussion — at least till we have talked over more pleasant 
 topics." 
 
 The lady smiled, courtesied, and gave her hand to tht 
 Marquis, by whom, with all the formal gallantry of the time, 
 which did not permit the guest to tuck the lady of the house 
 under the arm, as a rustic does his sweetheart at a wake, she 
 was ushered to the eating-room. 
 
 Here they were joined by Bucklaw, Craigengelt. and other 
 neighbors, whom the Lord Keeper had previously invited to 
 
 meet the Marquis of A . An apology, founded upon a 
 
 slight indisposition, was alleged as an excuse for the absence 
 of Miss Ashton, whose seat appeared unoccupied. The enter- 
 tainment was splendid to profusion, and was protracted till a 
 late hour. 
 
CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 Such was our fallen father's fate, 
 
 Yet better than mine own ; 
 He shared his exile Avith his mate, 
 
 I'm banish'd forth alone. 
 
 Waller. 
 
 I WILL not attempt to describe the mixture of indignation 
 and regret with whicli Kavenswood left the seat which had 
 belonged to his ancestors. The terms in which Lady Ash- 
 ton^s billet was couched rendered it impossible for him, with- 
 out being deficient in that spirit of which he perhaps had 
 too much, to remain an instant longer within its walls. The 
 Marquis, who had his share in the afEronl, was, nevertheless, 
 still willing to make some efforts at conciliation. He there- 
 fore suffered his kinsman to depart alone, making him 
 promise, however, tliat he would wait for him at the small inn 
 called the Tod's Hole, situated, as our readers may be pleased 
 to recollect, half- way betwixt Eavenswood Castle and Wolf's 
 Drag, and about five Scottish miles distant from each. Here 
 the Marquis proposed to join the Master of Eavenswood, 
 either that night or the next morning. His own feelings 
 would have induced him to have left the castle directly, but 
 he was loth to forfeit, without at least one effort, the advan- 
 tages which he had proposed from his visit to the Lord 
 Keeper ; and the Master of Eavenswood was, even in the very 
 heat of his resentment, unwilling to foreclose any chance of 
 reconciliation which might arise out of the partiality which 
 Sir William Ashton had shown towards him, as well as the 
 intercessory arguments of his noble kinsman. He himself 
 departed without a moment's delay, farther than was neces- 
 sary to make this arrangement. 
 
 At first he spurred his horse at a quick pace through an 
 avenue of the park, as if, by rapidity of motion, he could 
 stupefy the confusion of feelings with which he was assailed. 
 But as the road grew wilder and more sequestered, and when 
 the trees had hidden the tiarrets of the castle, he gradually 
 slackened his pace, as if to indulge the painful reflections 
 which he had in vain endeavored to repress. The path in 
 which he found himself led him to the Mermaiden's Fountain, 
 
 211 
 
213 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 and to the cottage of Alice ; and the fatal inflnence which 
 superstitious belief attached to the former spot, as well as the 
 admonitions which had been in vain offered to him by the in- 
 habitant of the latter, forced themselves upon his memory. 
 " Old saws speak truth," he said to himself, " and the Mer- 
 maiden's Well has indeed witnessed the last act of rashness of 
 the heir of Ravenswood. Alice spoke well," he continued, 
 ''and I am in the situation which she foretold ; or rather, I 
 am more deeply dishonored — not the dependant and ally of 
 the destroyer of my father's house, as the old sibyl presaged, 
 but the degraded wretch who has aspired to hold that subordi- 
 nate character, and has been rejected with disdain," 
 
 We are bound to tell the tale as we have received it ; and, 
 considering the distance of the time, and propensity of those 
 through whose mouths it has passed to the marvellous, this 
 could not be called a Scottish story unless it manifested a 
 tinge of Scottish superstition. As Ravenswood approached 
 the solitary fountain, he is said to have met with the following 
 singular adventure : His horse, which was moving slowly 
 forward, suddenly interrupted its steady and composed pace, 
 snorted, reared, and, though urged by the spur, refused to 
 ]3roceed, as if some object of terror had suddenly presented 
 itself. On looking to the fountain, Ravenswood discerned a 
 female figure, dressed in a white, or rather grayish, mantle, 
 placed on the very spot on which Lucy Ashton had reclined 
 while listening to the fatal tale of love. His immediate im- 
 pression was that she had conjectured by which path he would 
 traverse the park on his departure, and placed herself at this 
 well-known and sequestered place of rendezvous, to indulge her 
 own sorrow and his in a parting interview. In this belief he 
 jumped from his horse, and, making its bridle fast to a tree, 
 walked hastily towards the fountain, pronouncing eagerly, 
 yet under his breath, the words, " Miss Ashton ! — Lucy ! " 
 
 The figure turned as he addressed it, and displayed to his 
 wondering eyes the features, not of Lucy Ashton, but of old 
 blind Alice. The singularity of her dress, which rather re- 
 sembled a shroud than the garment of a living woman ; the 
 appearance of her person, larger, as it struck him, than it 
 usually seemed to be ; above all, the strange circumstance of 
 a blind, infirm, and decrepit person being found alone and at 
 a distance from her habitation (considerable, if her infirmities 
 be taken into account), combined to impress him with a feeling 
 of wonder approaching to fear. As he approached, she arose 
 slowly from her seat, held her shrivelled hand up as if to pre- 
 vent his coming more near, and her withered lips moved fast. 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR 218 
 
 although no sound issued from them. Kavenswood stopped ; 
 and as, after a moment's pause, he again advanced towards 
 her, Alice, or her apparition, moved or glided backwards 
 towards the thicket, still keeping her face turned towards 
 him. The trees soon hid the form from his sight, and, yielding 
 to the strong and terrific impression that the being which 
 he had seen was not of this world, the Master of Ravenswood 
 remained rooted to the ground whereon he had stood when he 
 caught his last view of her. At length, summoning up his 
 courage, he advanced to the spot on which the figure had 
 seemed to be seated ; but neither was there pressure of the 
 grass nor any other circumstance to induce him to believe 
 that what he had seen was real and substantial. 
 
 Full of those strange thoughts and confused apprehensions 
 which awake in the bosom of one who conceives he has wit- 
 nessed some preternatural appearance, the Master of Eavens- 
 wood walked back towards his horse, frequently, however, 
 looking behind him, not without apprehension, as if expect- 
 ing that the vision would reappear. But the apparition, 
 whether it was real or whether it was the creation of a heated 
 and agitated imagination, returned not again ; and he found 
 his horse sweating and terrified, as if experiencing that agony 
 of fear with which the presence of a supernatural being is 
 supposed to agitate the brute creation. The Master mounted, 
 and rode slowly forward, soothing his steed from time to 
 time, while the animal seemed internally to slirink and shud- 
 der, as if expecting some new object of fear at the opening of 
 every glade. The rider, after a moments consideration, re- 
 solved to investigate the matter farther. *' Can my eyes have 
 deceived me," he said, " and deceived me for such a space of 
 time ? Or are this woman's infirmities but feigned, in order 
 to excite compassion ? And even then, her motion resembled 
 not that of a living and existing person. Must I adopt the 
 popular creed, and think that the unhappy being has formed 
 a league with the powers of darkness ? I am determined to 
 be resolved ; I will not brook imposition even from my own 
 eyes. " 
 
 In this uncertainty he rode up to the little wicket of 
 Alice's garden. Her seat beneatli the birch-tree was vacant, 
 •■.hough the day was pleasant and the sun was high. He 
 approached the hut, and heard from within the sobs and 
 wailing of a female. No answer was returned when he 
 knocked, so that, after a moment's pause, he lifted the latch 
 and entered. It was indeed a house of solitude and sorrow. 
 Stretched upon her miserable pallet lay the corpse of the last 
 
214 WAVERLEY NO\^ELS 
 
 retainer of the house of Ravenswood who still abode on their 
 paternal domains ! Life had but shortly departed ; and the 
 little girl by whom she had been attended in her last moments 
 was wringing her hands and sobbing, betwixt childish fear 
 and sorrow, over the body of her mistress. 
 
 The Master of Ravenswood had some difficulty to com- 
 pose the terrors of the poor child, whom his unexpected 
 appearance had at first rather appalled than comforted ; and 
 when he succeeded, the first expression which the girl used 
 intimated that " he had come too late." Upon inquiring the 
 meaning of this expression, he learned that the deceased, 
 upon the first attack of the mortal agony, had sent a peasant 
 to the castle to beseech an interview of the Master of Ra- 
 venswood, and had expressed the utmost impatience for his 
 return. But the messengers of the poor are tardy and negli- 
 gent : the fellow had not reached the castle, as was afterwards 
 learned, until Ravenswood had left it, and had then found 
 too much amusement among the retinue of the strangers to 
 return in any haste to the cottage of Alice. Meantime her 
 anxiety of mind seemed to increase with the agony of her 
 body ; and, to use the phrase of Babie, her only attendant, 
 " she prayed powerfully that she might see her master^s son 
 once more, and renew her warning." She died just as the 
 clock in the distant village tolled one ; and Ravenswood re- 
 membered, with internal shuddering, that he had heard the 
 chime sound through the wood just before he had seen what 
 he was now much disposed to consider as the spectre of the 
 deceased. 
 
 It was necessary, as well from his respect to the departed 
 as in common humanity to her terrified attendant, that he 
 should take some measures to relieve the girl from her dis- 
 tressing situation. The deceased, he understood, had ex- 
 pressed a desire to be buried in a solitary churchyard, near 
 the little inn of the Tod's Hole, called the Hermitage, or more 
 commonly Armitage, in which lay interred some of the Ravens- 
 wood family, and many of their followers. Ravenswood con- 
 ceived it his duty to gratify this predilection, so commonly 
 found to exist among the Scottish peasantry, and dispatched 
 Babie to the neighboring village to procure the assistance of 
 some females, assuring her that, in the mean while, he would 
 himself remain with the dead body, which, as in Thessaly of 
 old, it is accounted highly unfit to leave without a watch. 
 
 Thus, in the course of a quarter of an hour or little more, 
 he found himself sitting a solitary guard over the inanimate 
 corpse of her whose dismissed spirit, unless his eyes had 
 
IHE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR 21b 
 
 strangely deceived him, had so recently manifested itself be- 
 fore him. Notwithstanding his natural courage, the Master 
 was considerably affected by a concurrence of circumstances 
 so extraardinary. "She died expressing her eager desire to 
 see'me. Can it be, then/' was his natural course of reflection 
 — " can strong and earnest wishes, formed during the last 
 agony of nature, survive its catastrophe, surmount the awful 
 bounds of the spiritual world, and place before us its inhabi- 
 tants in tlie hues and coloring of life ? And why was that 
 manifested to the eye which could not unfold its tale to the 
 e ir ? and wherefore should a breach be made in the laws of 
 nature, yet its purpose remain unknown ? Vain questions, 
 which only death, wlien it shall make me like the pale and 
 withered form before me, can ever resolve." 
 
 He laid a cloth, as he spoke, over the lifeless face, upon 
 whose features he felt unwilling any longer to dwell. He then 
 took his place in an old carved oaken chair, ornamented with 
 his own armorial bearings, which Alice had contrived to ap- 
 propriate to her own use in the pillage which took place among 
 creditors, offisers, domestics, and messengers of the law when 
 his father left Eavenswood Castle for the last time. Thus 
 saated, he banished, as much as he could, the superstitious 
 feelings which the late incident inspired. His own were sad 
 enough, without the exaggeration of supernatural terror, since 
 he found liimself transferred from the situation of a success- 
 ful lover of Lucy Ashton, and an lionored and respected friend 
 of her father^ into the melancholy and solitary guardian of 
 the abandoned and forsaken corpse of a comaion pauper. 
 
 He was relieved, however, from his sad office sooner than 
 he could reasonably have expected, considering the distance 
 betwixt the hut of the deceased and the village, and the age 
 and infirmities of three old women who came from thence, 
 in military phrase, to relieve guard upon the body of the de- 
 funct. On any other occasion the speed of these reverend 
 sibyls would have been much more moderate, for the first was 
 eighty years of age and upwards, the second was paralytic, 
 and the third lame of a leg from some accident. But the 
 burial duties rendered to the deceased are, to the Scottish 
 peasant of either sex, a labor of love. I know not whether it 
 is from the temper of the people, grave and enthusiastic as it 
 certainly is, or from the recollection of the ancient Catholic 
 opinions, when the funeral rites were always considered as 
 a period of festival to the living ; but feasting, good cheer, 
 and even inebriety, were, and are, the frequent accompani- 
 ments of A ScottL«»h old-fashioned burial. What the funeral 
 
216 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 feast, or " dirgie," as it is called, was to the men, the gloomy 
 preparations of the dead body for the coffin were to the women. 
 To straighten the contorted limbs upon a board used for that 
 melancholy purpose, to array the corpse in clean linen, and 
 over that in its woollen shroud, were operations committed 
 always to the old matrons of the village, and in which they 
 found a singular and gloomy delight. 
 
 The old women paid the Master their salutations with a 
 
 fhastly smile, which reminded him of the meeting betwixt 
 lacbeth and the witches on the blasted heath of Forres. He 
 gave them some money, and recommended to them the charge 
 of the dead body of their contemporary, an office which they 
 willingly undertook ; intimating to him at the same time that 
 he must leave the hut, in order that they might begin their 
 mournful duties. Ravenswood readily agreed to depart, only 
 tarrying to recommend to them due attention to the body, 
 and to receive information where he was to find the sexton, 
 or beadle, who had in charge the deserted churchyard of the 
 Armitage, in order to prepare matters for the reception of 
 Old Alice in the place of repose which she had selected for 
 herself. 
 
 " Ye'll no be pinched to find out Johnie Mortsheugh,'^ said 
 the elder sibyl, and still her withered cheek bore a grisly smile ; 
 ''he dwells near the Tod's Hole, a house of entertain- 
 ment where there has been mony a blithe birling, for death 
 and drink-draining are near neighbors to ane anither." 
 
 "Ay ! and that's e'en true, cummer," said the lame hag, 
 propping herself Avith a cratch which supported the shortness 
 of her left leg, "for I mind when the father of this Master of 
 Ravenswood that is now standing before us sticked young 
 Blackball with his whinger, for a wrang word said ower their 
 wine, or brandy, or what-not : he gaed in as light as a lark, 
 and he came out wi' his feet foremost. I was at the winding 
 of the corpse ; aiid when the bluid was washed off, he was a 
 bonny bouk of man's body." 
 
 It may be easily believed that this ill-timed anecdote has- 
 tened the Master's purpose of quitting a company so evil- 
 omened and so odious. Yet, while walking to the tree to 
 which his horse was tied, and busying himself with adjusting 
 the girths of the saddle, he could not avoid hearing, through 
 the hedge of the little garden, a conversation respecting him- 
 self, betwixt the lame woman and the octogenarian sibyl. The 
 pair had hobbled into the garden to gather rosemary, south- 
 ern-wood, rue, and other plants proper to be strewed upon the 
 body, and burned by way of fumigation in the chimney of the 
 
THE BRTDE OF LA]\TMERMOOn 31* 
 
 cottage. Tlie paralytic wretcli, almost exhausted by the 
 journey, was left guard upon the corpse, lest witches or fiends 
 might play their sport with it. 
 
 The following low, croaking dialogue was necessarily over- 
 heard by the Master of Ravenswood : 
 
 " That's a fresh and full-grown hemlock, Annie "Winnie ; 
 mony a cummer lang syne wad hae sought nae better horse 
 to flee over hill and liow. through mist and moonlight, and 
 light down in the King of France's cellar." 
 
 " Ay, cummer ! but the very deil has turned as hard- 
 liearted now as the Lord Keeper and the grit folk, that hae 
 breasts like whinstane. They prick us and they pine us, 
 and they pit us on the pinnywinkles for witches ; and, if I 
 say my prayers backwards ten times ower, Satan will never 
 gie me amends o' them." 
 
 " Did ye ever see the foul thief ? " asked her neighbor. 
 
 "Na !" replied the other spokeswoman ; " but I trow I 
 hae dreamed of him mony a time, and I think the day will 
 come they will burn me for't. But ne'er mind, cummer I 
 we hae this dollar of the Master's, and we'll send doun for 
 bread and for yill, and tobacco, and a drap brandy to burn, 
 and a wee pickle saft sugar ; and be there deil, or nadeil, lass, 
 we'll hae a merry night o't." 
 
 Here her leathern chops uttered a sort of cackling, ghastly 
 laugh, resembling, to a certain degree, the cry of the screech- 
 owl. 
 
 "' He's a frank man, and a free-handed man, the Master," 
 said Annie Winnie, "and a comely personage — broad in the 
 shouthers, and narrow around the lunyies. He wad mak a 
 bonnv corpse ; I wad like to hae the streiking and winding o' 
 him.'' 
 
 ''It is written on his brow, Annie Winnie," returned the 
 octogenarian, her companion, " that hand of woman, or of 
 man either, will never straught him : dead-deal will never be 
 laid on his back, make you your market of that, for I hae it 
 frae a sure hand." 
 
 "• Will it be his lot to die on the battle-ground then, 
 Ailsie Gourlay ? Will he die by the sword or the ball, as his 
 forbears hae dune before him, mony ane o' them ? " 
 
 " Ask nae mair questions about it — he'll no be graced sae 
 far," replied the sage. 
 
 "I ken ye are wiser than ither folk, Ailsie Gourlay. 
 But whatelled ye this?" 
 
 "Fashna your thumb about that, Annie Winnie," an,- 
 Bwered the sibyl, "I hae it frae a hand sure eneugh." 
 
818 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 " But ye said ye never saw the foul thief/' reiterated her 
 inquisitive companion, 
 
 *''I liae it frae as sure a hand," said Ailsie, **and frae 
 them that spaed his fortune before the sark gaed ower his 
 head." 
 
 '' Hark ! I hear his horse's feet riding afF," said the other ; 
 '' they dinna sound as if good luck was wi' them." 
 
 " Mak haste, sirs," cried the paralytic hag from the cot- 
 tage, " and let us do what is needfu', and say what is fitting ; 
 for, if the dead corpse binna straughted, it will girn and 
 thraw, and that will fear the best o' us." 
 
 Ravenswood was now out of hearing. He despised most 
 of the ordinary prejudices about witchcraft, omens, and vati- 
 cination, to which his age and country still gave such implicit 
 credit that to express a doubt of them was accounted a crime 
 equal to the unbelief of Jews or Saracens ; he knew also that 
 the prevailing belief concerning witches, operating upon the 
 hypochondriac habits of those whom age, infirmity, and pov- 
 erty rendered liable to suspicion, and enforced by the fear of 
 death and the pangs of the most cruel tortures, often extorted 
 those confessions which encumber and disgrace the criminal 
 records of Scotland during the 17th century. But the vision 
 of that morning, whether real or imaginary, had impressed 
 his mind with a superstitious feeling which he in vain endeav- 
 ored to shake off. The nature of the business which awaited 
 him at the little inn, called Tod's Hole, where he soon after 
 arrived, was not of a kind to restore his spirits. 
 
 It was necessary he should see Mortsheugh, the sexton of 
 the old burial-ground at Armitage, to arrange matters for the 
 funeral of Alice ; and, as the man dwelt near the place of her 
 late residence, the Master, after a slight refreshment, walked 
 towards the place where the body of Alice was to be deposited- 
 It was situated in the nook formed by the eddying sweep of a 
 stream, which issued from the adjoining hills. A rude cavern 
 in an adjacent rock, which, in the interior, was cut into the 
 shape of a cross, formed the hermitage, where some Saxon 
 saint had in ancient times done penance, and given name to 
 the place. The rich Abbey of Coldinghame had, in latter days, 
 established a chapel in the neighborhood, of which no vestige 
 was now visible, though the churchyard which surrounded it 
 was still, as upon the present occasion, used for the interment 
 of particular persons. One or two shattered yew-trees still 
 grew within the precincts of that which had once been holy 
 ground. Warriors and barons had been buried there of old, 
 but their names were forgotten, and their monuments de- 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR 319 
 
 molished. The only sepulchral memorials which remained 
 were the upright headstones which mark the graves of persons 
 of inferior rank. The abode of the sexton was a solitary cot- 
 tage adjacent to the ruined wall of the cemetery, but so low 
 that, with its thatch, which nearly reached the ground, 
 covered with a thick crop of grass, fog, and house-leeks, ii 
 resembled an overgrown grave. On inquiry, however. Ravens- 
 wood found that the man of the last mattock was absent at a 
 bridal, being fiddler as well as grave-digger to the vicinity. 
 He therefore retired to the little inn, leaving a message that 
 early next morning he would again call for the person 
 whose double occupation connected him at once with the 
 house of mourning and the house of feasting. 
 
 An outrider of the Marquis arrived at Tod's Hole shortly 
 after with a message, intimating that his master would Join 
 Eavenswood at that place on the following morning ; and the 
 Master, who would otherwise have proceeded to his old retreat 
 at Wolf's Crag, remained there accordingly to give meeting 
 to his noble kinsman. 
 
CHAPTEE XXIV 
 
 Hamlet. Has this fellow no feeling of his business? he sings at 
 
 grave-making. 
 Horatio. Custom hath made it in him a property of easiness. 
 Hamlet. 'Tis e'en so : the hand of little employment hath the 
 
 daintier sense. 
 
 Hamlet, Act V., Scene 1 
 
 The sleep of Eavenswood was broken by ghastly and agitat- 
 ing visions, and his waking intervals disturbed by melancholy 
 reflections of the past and painful anticipations of the future. 
 He was perhaps the only traveller who ever slept in that 
 miserable kennel without complaining of his lodgings, or 
 feeling inconvenience from their deficiencies. It is when 
 '*■ the mind is free the body's delicate." Morning, however, 
 found the Master an early riser, in hopes that the fresh air of 
 the \lawn might aiford the refreshment which night had 
 refused him. He took his way toward the solitary burial- 
 ground, which lay aboitt half a mile from the inn. 
 
 The thin blue smoke, which already began to curl up- 
 ward, and to distinguish the cottage of the living from the 
 habitation of the dead, aj^prised him that its inmate had re- 
 turned and was stirring. Accordingly, on entering the little 
 churchyard, he saw the old man laboring in a half-made 
 grave. "^My destiny," thought Eavenswood, "seems to lead 
 me to scenes of fate and of death ; but these are childi&h 
 thoughts, and they shall not master me. I will not again 
 suffer my imagination to beguile my senses." The old man 
 rested on his spade as the Master approached him, as if to re- 
 ceive his commands : and as he did not immediately speak; 
 the sexton opened the discourse in his own way. 
 
 " Ye will be a wedding customer, sir, I'se warrant ? 
 
 "What makes you think so, friend ?" replied the Master. 
 
 "I live by twa trades, sir," replied the blithe old man — 
 " fiddle, sir, and spade ; filling the world, and emptying of 
 it ; and I suld ken baith cast of customers by head-mark in 
 thirty years' practice." 
 
 "You are mistaken, however, this morning," replied 
 Eavenswood. 
 
 " Am If said the old man, looking keenly at hinv 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR 331 
 
 '•'troth and it may be ; since, for as brent as your brow is, 
 there is sometliing sitting npon it this day that is as near akin 
 to death as to wedlock. Weel — weel ; the pick and shovel are 
 as ready to your order as bow and fiddle." 
 
 "I wish you," said Ravenswood, " to look after the decent 
 interment of an old woman, Alice Gray, who lived at the 
 Craigfoot in Ravenswood Park." 
 
 "Alice Gray! — blind Alice!" said the sexton; "and is 
 she gane at last ? that's another jow of the bell to bid me be 
 ready. I mind when Habbie Gray brought hei' down to this 
 land ; a likely lass she was then, and looked ower her south- 
 land nose at us a\ I trow her pride got a downcome. And 
 is she e'en gane ? " 
 
 •• She died yesterday," said Ravenswood ; "and desired to 
 be buried here beside her husband ; you know where he lies, 
 no doubt ? " 
 
 •' Kenw here he lies 1 "answered the sexton, with national 
 indirection of response. " I ken whar a'body lies, that lies 
 here. But ye were speaking o' her grave ? Lord help us, 
 it's no an ordinar grave that will hand her in, if a's true that 
 folk said of Alice m her auld days ; and if I gae to six feet 
 deep — and a warlock's grave shouldna be an inch mair ebb, oi- 
 lier ain witch cummers would soon whirl her out of her 
 shroud for a' their auld acquaintance — and be't six feet, or 
 be't three, wlia's to pay the making o't, I pray ye ? " 
 
 "I will pay that, my friend, and all other reasonable 
 charges. " 
 
 "Reasonable charges!" said the sexton ;"ou, there's 
 grund-mail — and bell-siller, though the bell's broken, nao 
 doubt — and the kist — and my day's Avark — and my bit fee — - 
 and some brandy and yill to the dirgie ; I am no thinking 
 that you can inter her, to ca' decently, under saxteen puna 
 Scots." 
 
 " There is the money, my friend," said Ravenswood, 
 "and something over. Be sure you know the grave." 
 
 " Ye'U be ane o' her English relations, I'se warrant," said 
 the hoary man of skulls ; "I hae heard she married far be- 
 low her station. It was very right to let her bite on the 
 bridle when she was living, and it's very right to gie her a 
 decent burial now she's dead, for that's a matter o' credit to 
 yoursell rather than to her. Folk may let their kindred 
 shift for themsells when they are alive, and can bear the bur- 
 den of their ain misdoings ; but it's an unnatural thing to let 
 them be buried like dogs, when a' the discredit gangs to the 
 kmdred. What kens the dead corpse about it ?" 
 
223 WAVERLEV NOVELS 
 
 " You would not have people neglect their relations on a 
 bridal occasion neither ?" said Kavenswood, who was amused 
 with the professional limitation of the grave-digger's philan- 
 thropy. 
 
 The old man cast up his sharp gray eyes with a shrewd 
 smile, as if he understood the jest, but instantly continued, 
 with his former gravity, " Bridals — wha wad neglect bridals 
 that had ony regard for plenishing the earth ? To be sure, 
 they suld be celebrated with all manner of good cheer, and. 
 meeting of friends, and musical instruments — harp, sackbut, 
 and psaltery ; or gude fiddle and j^ipes, when these auld-warld 
 instruments of melody are hard to be compassed." 
 
 " The presence of tlie fiddle, I dare say," replied Eavens- 
 wood, "would atone for the absence of all the others." 
 
 The sexton again looked sharply up at him, as he an- 
 swered, "jS^ae doubt — nae doubt, if it were weel played; 
 but yonder," he said, as if to change the discourse, " is Hal- 
 bert Gray's lang hame, that ye were speering after, just 
 the third bourock beyond the muckle through-stane that 
 stands on sax legs yonder, abune some ane of the Eavenswoods ; 
 for there is mony of their kin and followers here, deil lift 
 them ! though it isna just their main burial-place." 
 
 ''They are no favorites, then, of yours, these Eavens- 
 woods ? " said the Master, not much pleased with the pass- 
 ing benediction which was thus bestowed on his family and 
 name. 
 
 '* I kenna wha should favor them," said the grave-digger ; 
 " when they had lands and power, they were ill guides of 
 them baith, and now their head's down, there's few care how 
 lang they may be of lifting it again." 
 
 " Indeed !" said Eavenswood ; " I never heard that this 
 nnhappy family deserved ill-will at the hands of their country. 
 I graiit their poverty, if that renders them contemptible." 
 
 " It will gang a far way till't," said the sexton of Hermit- 
 age, " ye may tak my word for that ; at least, I ken naething 
 else that suld mak myself contemptible, and folk are far frae 
 respecting me as they wad do if I lived in a twa-lofted sclated 
 house. But as for the Eavenswoods, I hae seen three genera- 
 tions of them, and deil ane to mend other." 
 
 " I thought they had enjoyed a fair character in the coun- 
 try," said their descendant. 
 
 "Character ! Ou, ye see, sir," said the sexton, "as for 
 the auld gudesire body of a lord. I lived on his land when I 
 was a swanking young chield, and could hae blawn the trum- 
 pet wi' onybody, for I had wind eneugh then ; and touching 
 
THE BRIDbJ OF LAMMERMOOR 223 
 
 this trumpeter Marine * tlitit I had heard play afore the lords 
 of the circuit, I wad liae made uae mair o' him than of a bairn 
 and a bawbee whistle. I defy him to hae played " Boot and 
 saddle/ or ' Horse and away/ or ' Gallants, come trot/ 
 with me ; he hadna the tones. " 
 
 " But what is all this to old Lord Ravenswood, my friend ? " 
 said the Master, who, with an anxiety not unnatural in his 
 circumstances, was desirous of prosecuting the musician's first 
 topic — " what had his memory to do with the degeneracy of 
 the trumpet music ? " 
 
 "Just this, sir/' answered the sexton, "that I lost my 
 vrind in his service. Ye see I was trumpeter at the castle, 
 and had allowance for blawing at break of day, and at dinner 
 time, and other whiles when there was company about, and it 
 pleased my lord ; and when he raised his militia to caper awa' 
 to Both well Brig against the wrang-headed wastland Whigs, 
 I behoved, reason or nane, to munt a horse and caper awa' wi' 
 them." 
 
 " And very reasonable," said Ravenswood ; "you were his 
 servant and vassal." 
 
 " Servitor, say ye ? " replied the sexton, " and so I was ; 
 but it was to blaw folk to their warm dinner, or at the warst 
 to a decent kirk^^ard, and no to skirl them awa' to a bluidy 
 braeside, where there was deil a bedral but the hooded craw. 
 But bide ye, ye shall hear Avhat cam o't, and how far I am 
 bund to be bedesman to the Ravenswoods. Till't, ye see, we 
 gaed on a braw simmer morning, twenty-fourth of June, sax- 
 teen hundred and se'enty-nine, of a' the days of the month 
 and year — drums beat, guns rattled, horses kicked and tram- 
 pled. Hackstoun of Rathillet keepit the brig wi' musket and 
 carabine and pike, sword and scythe for what I ken, and we 
 horsemen were ordered down to cross at the ford, — I hate 
 fords at a' times, let abee when there's thousands of armed 
 rasn on the other side. There was auld Ravenswood bran- 
 dishing his Andrew Ferrara at the head, and crying to us to 
 come and buckle to, as if we had been gaun to a fair ; there 
 was Caleb Balderstone, that is living yet, flourishing in the 
 rear, and swearing Gog and Magog, he would put steel through 
 the guts of ony man that turned bridle ; there was young 
 Allan Ravenswood, that was then Master, wi' a bended pistol 
 in his hand — it was a meroy it gaed na aff ! — crying to me, 
 that had scarce as much wind left as serve the necessary pur- 
 pose of my ain lungs, ' Sound, you poltroon ! — sound, you 
 damned cowardly villain, or T will blow your brains out !' 
 
 • See Note 10. 
 
224 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 and, to be sure, I blew sic points of war that the scraugh of a 
 clockin-hen was music to them." 
 
 "Well, sir, cut all this short," said Kavenswood. 
 
 " Short ! I had like to liae been cut short mysell, in the 
 flower of my youth, as Scripture says ; and that's the very 
 thing that I compleen o'. Weel ! into the water we behoved 
 a' to splash, heels ower head, sit or fa' — ae horse driving on 
 anither, as is the way of brute beasts, and riders that hae as 
 little sense ; the very bushes on the ither side were ableeze 
 wi' the flashes of the Whig guns ; and my horse had just taen 
 the grund, when a blackavised westland carle — I wad mind 
 the face o' him a hundred years yet — an ee like a wild falcon's, 
 and a beard as broad as my shovel — clapped the end o' his 
 lang black gun within a quarter's length of my lug ! By the 
 grace o' Mercy, the horse swarved round, and I fell aff at the 
 tae side as the ball whistled by at the tither, and the fell auld 
 lord took the Whig such a swank wi' his broadsword that he 
 made twa pieces o' his head, and down fell the lurdane wi' a' 
 his bouk abune me." 
 
 " You were rather obliged to the old lord, I think," said 
 Eavenswood. 
 
 "Was I ? my sartie ! flrst for bringing me into jeopardy, 
 would I nould I, and then for whomling a chield on the tap 
 o' me that dang the very wind out of my body ? I hae been 
 short-breathed ever since, and canna gang twenty yards with- 
 out peghing like a miller's aiver." 
 
 "You lost, then, your place as trumpeter ?" said Ravens- 
 wood. 
 
 "Lost it ! to be sure I lost it," replied the sexton, "for I 
 couldna hae played pew upon a dry humlock ; but I might 
 hae dune weel eneugh, for I keepit the wage and the free 
 house, and little to dq but play on the fiddle to them, but 
 for Allan, last Lord Eavenswood, that was far waur than ever 
 his father was." 
 
 "What," said the Master, "did my father — I mean, did 
 his father's son — this last Lord Eavenswood, deprive you of 
 what the bounty of his father allowed you ?" 
 
 " Ay, troth did he," answered the old man ; "for he loot 
 his affairs gang to the dogs, and let in this Sir William Ash- 
 ton on us, that will gie naething for naething, and just re- 
 moved me and a' the puir creatures that had bite and soup at 
 the castle, and a hole to put our heads in, when things were 
 in the auld way." 
 
 "If Lord Eavenswood protected his people, my friend, 
 while he had the means of doing so, I think they might spare 
 his memory," replied the Master. 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR 225 
 
 "Ye are welcome to your ain opinion, sir," said the sex- 
 ton ; ''but ye winna persuade me tluit he did his duty, either 
 to himsell or to huz puir dependent creatures, in guiding us 
 the gate he has done ; he might liae gien us life-rent tacks of 
 our bits o' houses and yards ; and me, that^s an auld man, 
 living in yon miserable cabin, that's fitter for the dead than 
 the quick, and killed wi' rheumatise, and John Smith in my 
 dainty bit mailing, and his window glazen, and a' because 
 Ravenswood gitided his gear like a fule ! " 
 
 "It is but too true," said Eavenswood, conscience-struck ; 
 "the penalties of extravagance extend far beyond the prodi- 
 gal's own sufferings." 
 
 "However," said the sexton, "this young man Edgar is 
 like to avenge my wrangs on the haill of his kindred." 
 
 "Indeed ?" said Ravenswood ; "why should you suppose 
 so?" 
 
 " They say he is about to marry the daughter of Leddy 
 Ashton ; and let her leddyship get his head ance under her 
 oxter, and see you if she winna gie his neck a thraw. Sorra 
 a bit, if I were him ! Let her alane for handing a'thing in 
 het water that draws near her. Sae the warst wish I shall 
 wish the lad is, that he may take his ain creditable gate o't, 
 and ally himsell wi' his father's enemies, that have taken his 
 broad lands and my bonny kail-yard from the lawful owners 
 thereof." 
 
 Cervantes acutely remarks, that flattery is pleasing even 
 from the mouth of a madman ; and censure, as well as praise, 
 often affects us, while we despise the opinions and motives on 
 which it is founded and expressed. Ravenswood, abruptly 
 reiterating his command that Alice's funeral should be at- 
 tended to, flung away from the sexton, under the painful 
 impression that the great as well as the small vulgar would 
 think of his engagement with Lucy like this ignorant and 
 selfish peasant. 
 
 " And I have stooped to subject myself to these calum- 
 nies, and am rejected notwithstanding ! Lucy, your faitli 
 must be true and perfect as the diamond to compensate for 
 the dishonor which men's opinions, and the conduct of your 
 mother, attach to the heir of Ravenswood ! " 
 
 As he raised his eyes, he beheld the Marquis of A , 
 
 who, having arrived at the Tod's Hole, had walked forth to 
 look for his kinsman. 
 
 After mutual greetings, he made some apology to the 
 Master for not coming forward on the preceding evening. 
 
 It was his wish," he said, "to have done so, but he had 
 
236 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 come to the knowledge of some matters which induced hin? 
 to delay his purpose. I find," he proceeded, " there has 
 been a love affair here, kinsmaji ; and though I might blame 
 you for not having communicated with me, as being in some 
 degree the chief of your family " 
 
 "With your lordship's permission," said Ravenswood, "I 
 am deeply grateful for the interest you are pleased to take in 
 me, but /am the chief and head of my family." 
 
 " I know it — I know it," said the Marquis ; "in a strict 
 heraldic and genealogical sense, you certainly are so ; what I 
 mean is, that being in some measure under my guardian- 
 ship " 
 
 " I must take the liberty to say, my lord " answered 
 
 Ravenswood, and the tone in which he interrupted the Mar- 
 quis boded no long duration to the friendship of the noble 
 relatives, when he himself was interrupted by the little sex- 
 ton, who came puffing after them, to ask if their honors would 
 choose music at the change-house to make up for short 
 cheer. 
 
 " We want no music," said the Master, abruptly. 
 
 " Your honor disna ken what ye're refusing, then," said 
 the fiddler, with the impertinent freedom of his profession. 
 " I can play "' Wilt thou do't again,' and ' The Auld Man's 
 Mear's Dead,' sax times better than ever Patie Birnie.* I'll 
 get my fiddle in tlie turning of a coffin-screw.^ 
 
 "Take yourself away, sir," said the Marquis. 
 
 " And if your honor be a north-country gentleman," said 
 the persevering minstrel, " whilk I wad judge from your 
 tongue, I can play ' Liggeram Cosh,' and ' Mullin Dhu,' and 
 ' The Cummers of A thole.' " 
 
 " Take yourself away, friend ; you interrupt our conver- 
 sation." 
 
 "Or if, under your honor's favor, ye should happen to be 
 a thought honest, I can play [this in a low and confidential 
 tone] ' Killiecrankie,' and 'The King shall hae his ain,' and 
 ' The Auld Stuarts back again ; ' and the wife at the change- 
 house is a decent, discreet body, neither kens nor cares what 
 toasts are drucken, and what tunes are played, in her house ; 
 she's deaf to a'thing but the clink o' the siller." 
 
 The Marquis, who was sometimes suspected of Jacobitism, 
 could not help laughing as he threw the fellow a dollar, and 
 bid him go play to the servants if he had a mind, and leave 
 them at peace. 
 
 * A celebrated fiddler and songster of Kinghorn. See Allan Ramsay's Collected 
 Poems, ed. 1781 {Laing). 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOH 227 
 
 *' Aweel, gentlemen,"' said he, " I am wishing your honors 
 gude day. I'll be a' the better of the dollar, and ye'U be tlie waur 
 of wanting the music, I'se tell ye. But I"se gang hanie, and 
 finish tlie grave in the tuning o' a fiddle-string, lay by my 
 spade, and then get my totlier bread-winner; andawa' to your 
 folk,, and see if they hae oetter lugs tixan their masters/' 
 
OflAPTER XXV 
 
 True love, an thou be true, 
 
 Thou has ane kittle part to play ; 
 
 For fortune, fashion, fancy, and thou, 
 Maun strive for many a day. 
 
 I've kend by mony a friend's tale, 
 Far better by this heart of mine, 
 
 What time and change of fancy avail 
 A true-love knot to untwine. 
 
 Hendersoitn. 
 
 ^'I "WISHED to tell you, my good kinsman," said the Marquis, 
 " now that we are quit of that impertinent fiddler, that I had 
 tried to discuss this love affair of yours with Sir William 
 Ashton's daughter. I never saw the young lady but for a few 
 minutes to-day ; so, being a stranger to her personal merits, I 
 pay a compliment to you, and offer her no offence, in saying 
 you might do better." 
 
 "My lord, I am much indebted for the interest you have 
 taken in my affairs," said Ravenswood. " I did not intend 
 to have troubled you in any matter concerning Miss Ashton. 
 As my engagement with that young lady has reached your 
 lordship, I can only say, that you must necessarily suppose 
 that I was aware of the objections to my marrying into her 
 father's family, and of course must have been completely sat- 
 isfied with the reasons by which these objections are over- 
 balanced, since I have proceeded so far in the matter," 
 
 '' Nay, Master, if you had heard me out," said his noble 
 relation, ''you might have spared that observation ; for, with- 
 out questioning that you had reasons Avhich seemed to you to 
 counterbalance every other obstacle, I set myself, by every 
 means that it became me to use towards the Ashtons, to per- 
 suade them to meet your views." 
 
 " I am obliged to your lordship for your unsolicited inter- 
 cession," said Ravenswood; "especially as I am sure your 
 lordship would never carry it beyond the bounds which it be- 
 came me to use." 
 
 " Of that," said the Marquis, "you may be confident ; I 
 myself felt the delicacy of the matter too much to place a gen- 
 
TH^ BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR 233 
 
 tleman nearly connected with my house in a degrading or 
 dubious situation with these Ashtons, But I pointed out all 
 the advantages of their marrying tlieir daughter into a house 
 so honorable, and so nearly related with the hrst in Scotland ; 
 I explained the exact degree of relationship in which the Ra- 
 venswoods stand to ourselves; and I even hinted how political 
 matters were like to tu;n, and what cards would bo trumps 
 next Parliament. I said I regarded you as a son — or a nephew, 
 or so — rather than as a more distant relation ; and that I 
 made your affair entirely my own." 
 
 "And what was the issue of your lordship's explana- 
 tion ?" siid Ravenswood, in some doubt whether he should 
 resent or express gratitude for his interference. 
 
 " Why, the Lord Keeioer would have listened to reason," 
 said the Marquis ; "he is rather unwilling to leave his place, 
 which, in the present view of a change, must be vacated ; and, 
 to say truth, he seemed to have a liking for you, and to be 
 sensible of the general advantages to be attained by such a 
 match. But his lady, who is tongue of the trump, Mas- 
 ter " 
 
 " What of Lady Ash ton, my lord ?" said Ravenswood ; 
 " let me know the issue of this extraordinary conference : I can 
 bear it." 
 
 "1 am glad of that, kinsman," said the Marquis, "for I am 
 ashamed to tell you half what she said. It is enough — her 
 mind is made up, and the mistress of a first-rate boarding- 
 school could not have rejected with more haughty indiffer- 
 ence the suit of a half-pay Irish officer, beseeching permission 
 to wait upon the heiress of a West India 23lanter, than Lady 
 Ashton spurned every proposal of mediation which it could 
 at all become me to offer in behalf of you, my good kinsman. 
 I cannot guess what she means. A more honorable connection 
 she could not form, that's certain. As for money and land, 
 that used to be her husband's business rather than hers ; I 
 really think she hates you for having the rank which her 
 husband has not, and perhaps for not having the lands that 
 her goodman has. But I should only vex you to say more 
 about it — here we are at the change-house." 
 
 The Master of Ravenswood paused as he entered the cot- 
 tage, which reeked through all its crevices, and they were not 
 few, from the exertions of the Marquis's travelling-cooks to 
 supply good cheer, and spread, as it were, a table m the wil- 
 derness. 
 
 " My Lord Marquis," said Ravenswood, "I already men- 
 tioned that accident has put your lordship in possession of a 
 
230 WAVERLEV NOVELS 
 
 secret which, with my consent, should have remained one even 
 to you, my kinsman, for some time. Since the secret was to 
 part from my own custody, and that of the only jDerson be- 
 sides who was interested in it, I am not sorry it should have 
 reached your lordship's ears, as being fully aware that you 
 are my noble kinsman and friend." 
 
 "You may believe it is safely lodged with me. Master of 
 Ravenswood," said the Marquis; "but I should like well to 
 hear you say that you renounced the idea of an alliance which 
 you can hardly pursue without a certain degree of degrada- 
 tion." 
 
 " Of that, my lord, I shall judge," answered Ravenswood, 
 "and I hope with delicacy as sensitive as any of my friends. 
 But I have no engagement with Sir William and Lady Ashton. 
 It is with Miss Ashton alone that I have entered upon the 
 subject, and my conduct in the matter shall be entirely ruled 
 by hers. If she continues to prefer me in my poverty to the 
 wealthier suitors whom her friends recommend, I may well 
 make some sacrifice to her sincere affection : I may well 
 surrender to her the less tangible and less palpable advantages 
 of birth, and the deep-rooted prejudices of family hatred. 
 If Miss Lucy Ashton should change her mind on a subject of 
 such delicacy, I trust my friends will be silent on my disap- 
 pointment, and I shall know how to make my enemies so." 
 
 " Spoke like a gallant young nobleman," said the Mar- 
 quis ; "for my part, I have that regard for you, that I should 
 be sorry the thing went on. This Sir William Ashton was a 
 pretty enough pettifogging kind of a lawyer twenty years ago, 
 and betwixt battling at the bar and leading in committees of 
 Parliament he has got well on ; the Darien matter lent him a 
 lift, for he had good intelligence and sound views, and sold 
 out in time ; but the best work is had out of him. No gov- 
 ernment will take him at his own, or rather his wife's extrava- 
 gant, valuation ; and betwixt his indecision and her insolence, 
 from all I can guess, he will outsit his market, and be had 
 cheap when no one will bid for him. I say nothing of Miss 
 Ashton ; but I assure you, a connection with her father will 
 be neither useful nor ornamental, beyond that part of your 
 father's spoils which he may be prevailed upon to disgorge 
 by way of tocher-good ; and take my word for it, you will 
 get more if you have spirit to bell the cat with him in the 
 House of Peers. And I will be the man, cousin," continued 
 his lordship, "will course the fox for you, and make him 
 rue the day that ever he refused a composition too honorable 
 for him, and proposed by me on the behalf of a kinsman." 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR im 
 
 There was something in all this that, as it were, overshot 
 the mark. Ravenswood could not disguise from himself that 
 his noble kinsman had more reasons for taking offence at the 
 reception of his suit than regarded his interest and honor, 
 yet he could neither complain nor be surprised that it should 
 be so. He contented himself, therefore, with repeating that 
 his attachment was to Miss Ashton personally ; that he desired 
 neither wealth nor aggrandizement from her father's means 
 and influence ; and that nothing should prevent his keeping 
 his engagement, excepting her own express desire that it 
 should be relinquished ; and he requested as a favor that the 
 matter might be no more mentioned betwixt them at present, 
 
 assuring the Marquis of A that he should be his confidant 
 
 in its progress or its interruption. 
 
 The Marquis soon had more agreeable, as well as more in- 
 teresting, subjects on which to converse. A foot-post, who 
 had followed him from Edinburgh to Ravenswood Castle, 
 and had traced his steps to the Tod's Hole, brought him a 
 packet laden with good news. The political calculations of the 
 Marquis had proved just, both in London and at Edinburgh, 
 and he saw almost within his grasp the pre-eminence for 
 which he had panted. The refreshments which the servants 
 had prepared were now put on the table, and an epicure 
 would perhaps have enjoyed them with additional zest from 
 the contrast which such fare afforded to the miserable cabin 
 in which it was served up. 
 
 The turn of conversation corresponded with and added to 
 the social feelings of the company. The Marquis expanded 
 with pleasure on the power which probable incidents were 
 likely to assign to him, and on tlie use which he hoped to 
 make of it in serving his kinsman Ravenswood. Ravenswood 
 could but repeat the gratitude which he really felt, even when 
 he considered the topic as too long dwelt upon. The wine 
 was excellent, notwithstanding its having been brought in a 
 runlet from Edinb^^rgh ; and the hal)its of the Marquis, when 
 engaged with such good cheer, were somewhat sedentary. 
 And so it fell out that they delayed their journey two hours 
 later than was their original purpose. 
 
 " But what of that, my good young friend ? " said the Mar- 
 quis. "Your Castle of Wolf's Crag is but at five or six miles' 
 distance, and will afford the same hospitality to your kinsman 
 
 of A that it gave to this same Sir William Ashton." 
 
 " Sir William took the castle by storm," said Ravens- 
 wood, ' ' and, like many a victor, had little reason to congratu- 
 late himself on his conquest." 
 
S32 \VAV±Ji{L,JiJy i\uv£jL.fi 
 
 " Well — well \" said Lord A , whose dignity was some- 
 thing relaxed by the wiue he had drunk, '- 1 see I must bribe 
 you to harbor me. Come, pledge me in a bumper health to 
 the last young lady that slept at Wolf's Crag, and liked her 
 quarters. My bones are not so tender as hers, and I am re- 
 solved to occupy her apartment to-night, that I may judge 
 how hard the couch is that love can soften." 
 
 "^ Your lordship may choose what penance you please,'' 
 said Eavenswood ; " but I assure you, I should expect my old 
 servant to hang himself, or throw himself from the battle- 
 ments, should your lordship visit him so unexpectedly. I do 
 assure you, we are totally and literally unprovided." 
 
 But his declaration only brought from his noble patron an 
 assurance of his own total indifference as to every species of 
 accommodation, and his determination to see the Tower of 
 Wolf's Crag. His ancestor, he said, had been feasted there, 
 when he went forward with the then Lord Eavenswood to the 
 fatal battle of Flodden, in which they both fell. Thus hard 
 pressed, the Master offered to ride forward to get matters put 
 in such preparation as time and circumstances admitted ; but 
 the Marquis protested his kinsman must afford him his com- 
 pany, and would only consent that an avant-courier should 
 carry to the destined seneschal, Caleb Balderstone, the ujiex- 
 pected news of this invasion. 
 
 The Master of Eavenswood soon after accompanied the 
 Marquis in his carriage, as the latter had proposed ; and when 
 they became better acquainted in the progress of the journey, 
 his noble relation explained the very liberal views which he 
 entertained for his relation's preferment, in case of the success 
 of his own political schemes. They related to a secret and 
 highly important commission beyond sea, which could only 
 be intrusted to a person of rank, talent, and perfect confidence, 
 and which, as it required great trust and reliance on the 
 envoy employed, could not but prove both honorable and 
 advantageous to him. We need not enter into the nature 
 and purpose of this commission, farther than to acquaint our 
 readers that the charge was in prospect higlily acceptable to 
 the Master of Eavenswood, who hailed with pleasure the hope 
 of emerging from his present state of indigence and inaction 
 into independence and honorable exertion. 
 
 While he listened thus eagerly to the details with which 
 the Marquis now thought it necessary to intrust him, the 
 messenger who had been dispatched to the Tower of Wolf's 
 Crag returned with Caleb Balderstone's humble duty, and an 
 assurance that "a' should be in seemly order, sic as the 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR 233 
 
 hurry of time permitted, to receive their lordships as it be- 
 hoved." 
 
 Ravenswood was too well accustomed to his senesclial's 
 mode of acting and speaking to hope much from this confi- 
 dent assurance. He knew that Caleb acted upon the princi- 
 ple of the Spanisli generals, in the campaign of , who, 
 
 much to the perplexity of the Prince of Orange, their com- 
 mander-in-chief, used to report their troops as full in num- 
 ber, and possessed of all necessary points of equipment, not 
 considering it consistent with their dignity, or the honor of 
 Spain, to confess any deficiency either in men or munition, 
 until the want of both was unavoidably discovered in the day 
 of battle. Accordingly, Ravenswood thought it necessary to 
 give the Marquis some hint that the fair assurance which 
 they had just received from Caleb did not by any means insure 
 them against a very indifferent reception. 
 
 '"You do yourself injustice. Master," said the Marquis, 
 ''or you wish to surprise me agreeably. From this window 
 I see a great light in the direction where, if I remember 
 aright. Wolf's Ci-ag lies ; and, to judge from the splendor 
 which the old Tuwer sheds around it, the preparations for 
 our reception must be of no ordinary description. I remem- 
 ber your father putting tiie same deception on me, Avlien Ave 
 went to the Tower for a few days' hawking, about twent}^ 
 years since, and yet we spent our time as jollily at Wolf's 
 Crag as we could have done at my own hunting seat at 
 B ." 
 
 "Your lordship, I fear, will experience that the faculty 
 of the present proprietor to entertain his friends is greatly 
 abridged," said Ravenswood; "the will, I need hardly say, 
 remains the same. But I am as much at a loss as your lord- 
 ship to account for so strong and brilliant a light as is now 
 above Wolf's Crag ; the windows of the Tower are few and 
 narrow, and those of the lower story are hidden from us by 
 the walls of the court. I cannot conceive that any illumina- 
 tion of an ordinary nature could afford such a blaze of light." 
 
 The mystery was soon explained ; for the cavalcade almost 
 instantly halted, and the voice of Caleb Baldorstone was 
 heard at the coach window, exclaiming, in accents broken by 
 grief and fear, " Ocli, gentlemen ! Och, my gude lords ! 
 Och, baud to the right ! Wolf's Crag is burning, bower and 
 ha' — a' the rich plenishing outside and inside — a' the fine 
 graith, pictures, tapestries, needle-wark, hangings, and other 
 decorements — a' in a bleeze, as if they were nae mair than sae 
 mony peats, or as muckle pea-strae ! Haud to the right, 
 
234 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 gentlemen, I implore ye ; there is some sma' provision making 
 at Luckie Sma' trash's ; but 0, wae for this night, and wae 
 for me that lives to see it ! '' 
 
 Ravenswood was at first stunned by this new and unex- 
 pected calamity ; but after a moment's recollection he sprang 
 from the carriage, and hastily bidding his noble kinsman 
 good-night, was about to ascend the hill towards the castle, 
 the broad and full conflagration of which now flung forth a 
 high column of red light, that flickered far to seaward upon 
 the dashing waves of the ocean. 
 
 "Take a horse. Master," exlaimed the Marquis, greatly 
 aft'ected by this additional misfortune, so unexpectedly heaped 
 upon his young protege ; "and give me my ambling pal- 
 frey ; and haste forward, you knaves, to see what can be done 
 to save the furniture, or to extinguish the fire — ride, you 
 knaves, for your lives ! " 
 
 The attendants bustled together, and began to strike their 
 horses with the spur, and call upon Caleb to show them the 
 road. But the voice of that careful seneschal was heard 
 above the tumult, " 0, stop — sirs, stop — turn bridle, for the 
 luve of Mercy ; add not loss of lives to the loss of warld's 
 gear ! Thirty barrels of powther, landed out of a Dunkirk 
 dogger in the auld lord's time — a' in the vau'ts of the anld 
 tower, — the fire canna be far aff it, I trow. Lord's sake, to 
 the right, lads — to the right ; let's pit the hill atween us and 
 peril, — a wap wi' a corner-stane o' Wolf's Crag wad defy the 
 doctor!" 
 
 It will readily be supposed that this annunciation hurried 
 the Marquis and his attendants into the route which Caleb 
 prescribed, dragging Ravenswood along with them, although 
 there was much in the matter which he could not possibly 
 comprehend. " Gunpowder ! " he exclaimed, laying hold of 
 Caleb, who in vain endeavored to escape from him, "what 
 gunpowder ? How any quantity of powder could be in 
 Wolf's Crag without my knowledge, I cannot possibly com- 
 prehend." 
 
 " But I can," interrupted the Marquis, whispering him, 
 " I can comprehend it thoroughly ; for God's sake, ask him 
 no more questions at present. " 
 
 " There it is, now," said Caleb, extricating himself from 
 his master, and adjusting his dress, "your honor will believe 
 his lordship's honorable testimony. His lordship minds weel 
 how, in the year that him they ca'd King Willie died " 
 
 "Hush ! hush, my good friend ! " said the Marquis ; " I 
 shall satisfy your master upon that subject." 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR 235 
 
 '' And the people at Wolf's Hope," said Riivenswood, 
 ^' did none of them come to your assistance before the ilanie 
 got so high ? " 
 
 '' Ay did they, inony ane of them, the rapscallions ! " said 
 Caleb ;"•• bat truly I was in nae hurry to let theru into the 
 Tower, where there were so much plate and valuables." 
 
 •' Confound you for an impudent liar ! " said Ravenswood, 
 in uncontrollable ire, " there was not a single ounce of " 
 
 " I^'orbye," said the butler, most irreverently raising his 
 voice to a pitch which drowned his master's, " the fire made 
 fast on us, owing to the store of tapestry and carved timmer 
 in the banqueting-ha', and the loons ran like scauded rats sae 
 sune as they heard of the gunpouther." 
 
 "I do entreat," said the Marquis to Ravenswood, "you 
 will ask him no more questions." 
 
 " Only one, my lord. What has become of poor Mysie ?" 
 
 "' Mysie ! " said Caleb, " I had nae time to look about ony 
 Mysie ; she's in the Tower, I'se warrant, biding her awful 
 doom." 
 
 " By heaven," said Ravenswood, ''I do not understand 
 all this ! The life of a faithful old creature is at stake ; my 
 lord, I will be withheld no longer ; I will at least ride up, 
 and see whether the danger is as imminent as this old fool 
 pretends." 
 
 " Weel, then, as I live by bread," said Caleb, "Mysie is 
 weel and safe. I saw her out of the castle before I left it 
 inysell. Was I ganging to forget an auld fellow-servant ? " 
 
 "What made you tell me the contrary this moment?" 
 said his master. 
 
 "Did I tell you the contrary?" said Caleb; "then i 
 maun hae been dreaming surely, or this awsome night has 
 turned my judgment ; but safe she is, and ne'er a living soul 
 in the castle, a' the better for them : they wad have gotten an 
 unco heezy." 
 
 The Master of Ravenswood, upon this assurance being 
 solemnly reiterated, and notwithstanding his extreme wish 
 to witness the last explosion, which was to ruin to the ground 
 the mansion of his fathers, suffered himself to be dragged on- 
 ward towards the village of Wolf's Hope, where not only the 
 change-house, but that of our well-known friend the cooper, 
 were all prepared for reception of himself and his noble 
 guest, with a liberality of provision which requires some 
 explanation. 
 
 We omitted to mention in its {)lace, that Tiockhard hav- 
 ing fished out the truth concerning the mode by which Caleb 
 
236 WAVEBLEY NOVELS 
 
 had obtained the supplies for liis banquet, tlie Lord Keeper, 
 amused with the incident, and desirous at the time to gratify 
 Eavenswood, had recommended the cooper of Wolf's Hope to 
 the official situation under government, the prosjDect of which 
 had reconciled him to the loss of his wild-fowl. Mr. Girder's 
 preferment had occasioned a pleasing surprise to old Caleb ; 
 for when, some days after his master's departure, he found 
 himself absolutely compelled, by some necessary business, to 
 visit the fishing hamlet, and was gliding like a ghost past the 
 door of the cooper, for fear of being summoned to give some 
 account of the progress of the solicitation in his favor, or, 
 more probably, that the inmates might upbraid him with the 
 false hope he had held out upon the subject, he heard him- 
 self, not without some apprehension, summoned at once in 
 treble, tenor, and bass — a trio performed by the voices of 
 Mrs. Girder, old Dame Loup-the-Dyke, and the goodman of 
 the dwelling—'' Mr. Caleb !— Mr. Caleb !— Mr. Caleb Balder- 
 stone ! I hope ye arena ganging dry-lipped by our door, and 
 we sae muckle indebted to you ? "' 
 
 This might be said ironically as well as in earnest. Caleb 
 augured the worst, turned a deaf ear to the trio aforesaid, and 
 was moving doggedly on, his ancient castor pulled over his 
 brows, and his eyes bent on the ground, as if to count the 
 flinty pebbles with which the rude pathway was causew^ayed. 
 But on a sudden he found himself surrounded in his progress, 
 like a stately merchantman in the Gut of Gibraltar (I hope 
 the ladies will excuse the tarpaulin phrase) by three Algerine 
 galleys. 
 
 " Gude guide us, Mr, Balderstone ! " said Mrs. Girder. 
 
 "Wha wad hae thought it of an auld and kenned 
 friend ! " said the mother. 
 
 "And no sae muckle as stay to receive our thanks," said 
 the cooper himself, "and frae the like o' me that seldom 
 offers them ! I am sure I hope there's nae ill seed sawn be- 
 tween us, Mr. Balderstone. Ony man that has said to ye I 
 am no gratef u' for the situation of Queen's cooper, let me 
 hae a whample at him wi' mine eatche, that's a'." 
 
 '' My good friends — my dear friends," said Caleb, still 
 doubting how the certainty of the matter might stand, 
 "what needs a' this ceremony? Ane tries to serve their 
 friends, and sometimes they may happen to prosper, and 
 sometimes to misgie. Naething 1 care to be fashed wi' less 
 than thanks ; I never could bide them." 
 
 "Faith, Mr. Balderstone, ye suld hae been fashed wi' 
 few o' mine," said the downright man of staves and hoops, "if 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR 287 
 
 I had only your gude-will to thaiik ye ior : I suld e'en hae set 
 the guse, and the wikl deukes, and the runlet of sack to bal- 
 ance that account, (iude-wiil, man, is a geizened tub, that 
 hands in nae liquor ; but gude deed's like tlie cask, tight, 
 round, and sound, that will baud liquor for the king." 
 
 " Have ye no heard of our letter,"' said the mother-in- 
 law, *' making our John [Gibbie] the Queen's cooper for 
 certain ? and scarce a chield that had ever hammered gird 
 upon tub but was applying for it ? " 
 
 "Have I heard! ! ! " said Caleb, who now found how 
 the wind set, with an accent of exceeding contempt at the 
 doubt expressed — " have I heard, quoth she ! ! ! " and as he 
 spoke he changed his shambling, skulking, dodging pace 
 into a manly and authoritative step, readjusted his cocked hat, 
 and suffered his brow to emerge from under it in all the pride 
 of aristocracy, like the sun from behind a cloud. 
 
 '' To be sure, he canna but hae heard," said the good 
 woman. 
 
 " Ay, to be sure, it's impossible but I should," said Caleb ; 
 " and sae I'll be the first to kiss ye, joe, and wish you, cooper, 
 much joy of your preferment, naething doubting but ye ken 
 wha are your friends, and have helped ye, and can help ye. 
 I thought it right to look a wee strange upon it at first," 
 added Caleb, "just to see if ye were made of the right 
 mettle ; but ye ring true, lad — ye ring true ! " 
 
 So saying, with a most lordly air he kissed tlie women, 
 and abandoned his hand, with an air of serene patronage, to 
 the hearty shake of Mr. Girder's horn-hard palm. Upon this 
 complete, and to Caleb most satisfactory, information he did 
 not, it may readily be believed, hesitate to accept an invita- 
 tion to a solemn feast, to which were invited, not only all the 
 notables of the village, but even his ancient antagonist, Mr. 
 Dingwall, himself. At this festivity he was, of course, the 
 most welcome and most honored guest ; and so well did he ply 
 the company with stories of what he could do with his master, 
 his master with the Lord Keeper, the Lord Keeper with the 
 council, and the council with the king [queen], that before 
 the company dismissed (which was, indeed, rather at an early 
 hour than a late one), every man of note in the village was 
 ascending to the top-gallant of some ideal preferment by the 
 ladder of ropes which Caleb had presented to their imagina- 
 tion. Nay, the cunning butler regained in that moment not 
 only all the influence he possessed formerly over the villagers, 
 when the baronial family which he served were at the proud- 
 est, but acquired even an accession of importance. The 
 
238 W AVE RLE Y NOVELS 
 
 writer — tue very attorney himself, such is the thirst of pre« 
 fermeut — felt the force of the attraction, and taking an op- 
 portunity to draw Caleb into a corner, spoke, with aflfectionate 
 regret, of the declining health of the sheriff-clerk of the 
 county. 
 
 "An excellent man — a most valuable man, Mr. Caleb; 
 but fat sail I say ! we are peer feckless bodies, here the day 
 and awa' by cock-screech the morn ; and if he failyies, there 
 maun be somebody in his place ; and gif that ye could airt it 
 my way, I sail be thankful, man — a gluve stuffed wi' gowd 
 nobles ; an' hark ye, man, something canny till yoursell, and 
 the Wolf's Hope carles to settle kindly wi' the Master of Ea- 
 venswood — that is. Lord Eavenswood — God bless his lord- 
 ship ! " 
 
 A smile, and a hearty squeeze by the hand, was the suitable 
 answer to this overture ; and Caleb made his escape from the 
 jovial party, in order to avoid committing himself by any 
 special promises. 
 
 "The Lord be gude to me," said Caleb, when he found 
 himself in the open air, and at liberty to give vent to the 
 self -exultation with which he was, as it were, distended ; 
 " did ever ony man see sic a set of green-gaislings ? The 
 very pick-maws and solan-geese out-bye yonder at the Bass 
 hae ten times their sense ! God, an I had been the Lord 
 High Commissioner to the Estates o' Parliament, they couldna 
 hae betlummed me mair ; and, to speak Heaven's truth, I 
 could hardly hae beflummed them better neither ! But the 
 writer — ha ! ha ! ha ! — ah, ha ! ha ! ha ! mercy on me, that I 
 suld live in my auld days to gie the gang-bye to the very 
 writer ! Sheriff-clerk ! ! ! But I hae an auld account to 
 settle wi' the carle ; and to make amends for bye-ganes, the 
 office shall just cost him as much time-serving and tide-serv- 
 ing as if he were to get it in gude earnest, of whilk there is 
 sma' appearance, unless the Master learns mair the ways of 
 this warld, whilk it is muckle to be doubted that he never 
 will do." 
 
Ci^APTER XXVI 
 
 Why flames yon far summit — why shoot to the blast 
 Those embers, like stars from the firmament cast? 
 'Tis tlie fire-sliower of ruin, all dreadfully driven 
 From thine eyrie, that beacons the darkness of Heaven. 
 
 Campbell. 
 
 The circumstances announced in the conclusion of the last 
 chapter will account for the ready and cheerful reception of 
 
 the Marquis of A and the Master of Ravenswood in the 
 
 village of Wolf's Hope. In fact, Caleb had no sooner an- 
 nounced the conflagration of the tower than the whole hamlet 
 were upon foot to hasten to extinguish the flames. And 
 although that zealous adherent diverted their zeal by inti- 
 mating the formidable contents of the subterranean apart- 
 ments, yet the check only turned their assiduity into another 
 direction. Never had there been.such slaughtering of capons, 
 and fat geese, and barn-door fowls ; never such boiling of 
 " reested " hams ; never such making of car-cakes and sweet 
 scones, Selkirk bannocks, cookies, and petticoat-tails — deli- 
 cacies little known to the present generation. Never had 
 there been such a tapping of barrels, and such uncorking of 
 graybeards, in the village of Wolf's Hope. All the inferior 
 houses were tlarown open for the reception of the Marquis's 
 dependants, Avho came, it was thought, as precursors of the 
 shower of preferment which hereafter was to leave the rest 
 of Scotland dry, in order to distil its rich dews on the village 
 of Wolf's Hope under Lammermoor. The minister put in 
 his claim to have the guests of distinction lodged at tha 
 manse, having his eye, it was thought, upon a neighboring 
 preferment, where the incumbent was sickly ; but Mr. Balder- 
 stone destined tliat honor to the cooper, his wife, and wife's 
 mother, who danced for joy at the preference thus assigned 
 them. 
 
 Many a beck and many a bow welcomed these noble guests 
 to as good entertainment as persons of such rank coiild set 
 before such visitors ; and the old dame, who had formerly 
 lived in Ravenswood Castle, and knew, as she said, the ways 
 
240 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 of the nobility, was in no whit wanting in arranging matters, 
 as well as circumstances permitted, according to the etiquette 
 of the times. Tlie cooper's house was so roomy that each 
 guest had his separate retiring-room, to which they were 
 ushered with all due ceremony, wliile the plentiful supper 
 was in the act of being placed upon the table. 
 
 Eaveuswood no sooner found himself alone than, impelled 
 by a thousand feelings, he left the apartment, the house, and. 
 the village, and hastily retraced his steps to the brow of the 
 hill, which rose betwixt the village and screened it from the 
 tower, in order to view the final fall of the house of his 
 fathers. Some idle boys from the hamlet had taken the same 
 direction out of curiosity, having first witnessed tlie arrival of 
 the coach and six and its attendants. As they ran one by one 
 past the Master, calling to each other to " Come and see the 
 auld tower blaw up in the lift like the peelings of an ingan," 
 he could not but feel himself moved with indignation. *' And 
 these are the sons of my father's vassals," he said — "of men 
 bound, both by law and gratitude, to f olloAv our steps through 
 battle, and fire, and flood ; and now the destruction of their 
 liege lord's house is but a holiday's sight to tbem !" 
 
 These exasperating reflections were partly expressed in the 
 acrimony with which he exclaimed, on feeling himself pulled 
 by the cloak — "What do you want, you dog ?" 
 
 "I am a dog, and an auld dog too," answered Caleb, for 
 it was he who had taken the freedom, *' and I am like to get 
 a dog's wages ; but it does not signification a pinch of sneesh- 
 ing, for I am ower auld a dog to learn new tricks, or to fol- 
 low a new master." 
 
 As he spoke, Ravenswood attained the ridge of the hill 
 from which Wolfs Crag was visible ; the flames had entirely 
 sunk down, and, to his great surprise, there was only a dusky 
 reddening upon the clouds immediately over the castle, which 
 seemed the reflection of the embers of the sunken fire. 
 
 " The place cannot have blown up," said the Master ; " we 
 must have heard the report : if a quarter of the gunpowder 
 was there you tell me of, it would have been heard twenty 
 miles off." 
 
 " It's very like it wad," said Balderstone, composedly. 
 
 "Tben the fire cannot have reached the vaults ?" 
 
 "It's like no," answered Caleb, with the same impenetra- 
 ble gravity. 
 
 " Hark ye, Caleb," said his master, " this grows a little 
 too much for my patience. I must go and examine how 
 matters stand at Wolf's Crag myself." 
 
THE BRIDE OJi LAMMERMOOR 241 
 
 *^Your honor is ganging to gang uae bio gate/' said 
 Caleb, firmly. 
 
 ''And why not?" said Ravenswood, sharply ;" who or 
 what shall prevent me ? " 
 
 "Even I mysell," said Caleb, with the same determina- 
 tion. 
 
 " You, Balderstone !" replied the Master ; ''you are for- 
 getting yourself, I think." 
 
 " But [ think no," said Balderstone ; "for I can just tell 
 ye a' about the castle on this knowe-head as weel as if ye were 
 at it. Ouly dinna pit yoursell into a kippage, and expose 
 yoursell before the weans, or before the Marquis, when ye 
 gang down- bye." 
 
 " Speak out, you old fool," replied his master, " and let 
 me know the best and the worst at once." 
 
 " Ou, the best and the warstis, just that the tower is stand- 
 ing haill and feir, as safe and as empty as when ye left it." 
 
 "Indeed ! and the fire ?" said Ravens wood. 
 
 " Not a gleed of fire, then, except the bit kindling peat, 
 and maybe a spunk in Mysie's cutty-pipe," replied Caleb. 
 
 '•But the flame?" demanded Ravenswood — "the broad 
 blaze which might have been seen ten miles off — what occa- 
 sioned that ? " 
 
 " Hout awa' ! it's an auld saying and a true — 
 
 '" Little's the light 
 
 Will be seen far in a mirk night.' 
 
 A wheen fern and horse litter that I fired in the courtyard, 
 after sending bact the loon of a footman ; and, to speak 
 Heaven's truth, the next time that ye send or bring onybody 
 here, let them be gentles allenarly, without ouy fremd ser- 
 vants, like that chield Lockhard, to I)e gledging and gleeing 
 about, and looking upon the wrang side of ane's housekeep- 
 ing, to the discredit of tlie family, and forcing ana to damn 
 their souls wi' telling ae lee after another faster than I can 
 count them : I wad rather set fire to the tower in gude ear- 
 nest, and burn it ower my ain head into the bargain, or I see 
 the family dishonored in the sort." 
 
 "Upon my word. I am infinitely obliged by the proposal, 
 Caleb," said his master, scarce able to restrain his laughter, 
 though rather angry at the same time. " But the gunpowder 
 — is there such a thing in the tower ? The Marquis seemed 
 ^ know of it." 
 
 "The pouther, ha I ha ! ha ! — the Marquis, ha ! ha ! ha ! " 
 
843 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 replied Caleb, — " if your honor were to brain me, I behooved 
 to laugh, — the Marquis — the pouther ! Was it there ? Ay, 
 it was there. Did he ken o't ? My certie ! the Marquis 
 kenned o't, and it was tlie best o' the game ; for, when I 
 couldna pacify your honor wi' a,' that I could say, I aye threw 
 out a word mair about the gunpouther, and garred the Mar- 
 quis tak the job in hisain hand." 
 
 " But you have not answered my question," said the Mas- 
 ter, impatiently ; "how came the powder there, and where is 
 it now ?" 
 
 " Ou, it came there, an ye maun needs ken," said Caleb, 
 looking mysteriously, and whispering, " when there was like 
 to be a wee bit rising here ; and the Marquis, and a' the gveni 
 lords of the north, were a' in it, and mony a gudely gun and 
 broadsword were ferried ower f rae Dunkirk f orbye the pouther. 
 Awf u^ wark we had getting them into the tower under cloud 
 o' night, for ye maun think it wasna everybody could be trusted 
 wi^ sic kittle jobs. But if ye will gae hame to your supper, 
 I will tell you a' about it as ye gang down." 
 
 *' And these wretched boys," said Eavenswood, " is it your 
 pleasure they are to sit there all night, to wait for the blow- 
 ing up of a tower that is not even on fire ?" 
 
 " Surely not, if it is your honor's pleasure that they suld 
 gang hame ; although," added Caleb, " it wadna do them a 
 grain's damage : they wad screigh less the next day, and sleep 
 the sounder at e'en. But just as your honor likes." 
 
 Stepping accordingly towards the urchins who manned tJie 
 knolls near which they stood, Caleb informed them, in an 
 authoritative tone, that their honors Lord Ravenswood and 
 
 the Marquis of A had given orders that the tower was not 
 
 to blow up till next day at noon. The boys dispersed upon 
 this comfortable assurance. One or two, however, followed 
 Caleb for more information, particularly the urchin whom he 
 had cheated while officiating as turnspit, who screamed, 
 "Mr. Balderstone ! — Mr. Balderstone! then the castle's gane 
 out like an auld wife's spunk ? " ■ 
 
 " To be sure it is, callant," said the butler ; '^ do ye think 
 the castle of as great a lord as Lord Eavenswood wad continue 
 in a bleeze, and him standing looking on wi' his ain very een ? 
 It's aye right," continued Caleb, shaking off his ragged page, 
 and closing in to his master, " to train up weans, as the wise 
 man says, in the way they should go, and, aboon a', to teach 
 them respect to their superiors." 
 
 " But all this while, Caleb, you have never told me what 
 became of the arms and powder," said Ravenswood. 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAM3IERM00R 243 
 
 " Why, as for tlie arms," said Caleb, " it was just like the 
 bairns* rhyme — 
 
 " ' Some gaed east and some gaed west. 
 And some gaed to the craws nest.' 
 
 And for the pouther, I e'en changed it, as occasion served, 
 with the skippers o' Dutch luggers and French vessels, for 
 gin and brandy, and it served the house mony a year — agude 
 swap too, between what cheereth the soul of man and that 
 which dingeth it clean out of his body ; forbye, I keepit a 
 wheen pounds of it for yoursell when ye wanted to take the 
 pleasure o' shooting : whiles, in these latter days, I wad 
 hardly hae kenned else whar to get pouther for your pleasure. 
 And now that your anger is ower, sir, wasna that weel man- 
 aged o' me, and arena ye far better sorted doun yonder than 
 ye could hae been in your ain auld ruins up-bye yonder, as 
 the case stands wi' us now ? the mair's the pity I " 
 
 ''I believe you may be right, Caleb ; but, before burning 
 down my castle, either in jest or in earnest," said Eavens- 
 wood, *'I think I had a right to be in the secret." 
 
 "Fie for shame, your honor ! " replied Caleb ; "it fits an 
 auld carle like me weel enough to tell lees for the credit of 
 tbe family, but it wadna beseem the like o' your honor's sell ; 
 besides, young folk are no judicious : they cannot make the 
 maist of a bit figment. Now this fire — for a fire it sail be, if 
 I suld burn the auld stable to make it mair feasible — this 
 fire, besides that it will bean excuse for asking onything we 
 Avant through the country, or doun at the haven — this fire 
 will settle mony things on an honorable footing for the fam- 
 ily's credit, that cost me telling twenty daily lees to a wheen 
 idle chaps and queens, and, what's waur, without gaining 
 credence." 
 
 " That was hard indeed, Caleb ; but I do not see how this 
 fire should help your veracity or your credit." 
 
 "There it is now! "said Caleb; "wasna I saying that 
 young folk had a green judgment ? How suld it help me, 
 quotha ? It will be a creditable apology for the honor of the 
 family for this score of years to come, if it is weel guided. 
 MVhere's the family pictures?' says ae meddling body. 
 ' The great fire at Wolf's Crag.' answers I. ' Where's the 
 family plate?' says another. 'The great fire,' says I; 
 'wha was to think of plate, when life and limb were in dan- 
 ger ?' 'Where's the wardrobe and the linens ? — where's the 
 tapestries and the decorements ? — beds of state, twilts, pands 
 and testors, napery and broidered wark ?' 'The fire — the 
 
244 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 fire — the fire.' Guide the fire weel, and it will serve ye for 
 a' that ye suld have and have not ; and, in some sort, a gude 
 excuse is better than the things themselves ; for they maun 
 crack and wear out, and be consumed by time, whereas a 
 gude offcome, prudently and creditably handled, may serve a 
 nobleman and his family, Lord kens how lang ! " 
 
 Ravenswood was too well acquainted with his butler's per- 
 tinacity and self-opinion to dispute the point with him any 
 f irther. Leaving Caleb, therefore, to the enjoyment of his 
 own successful ingenuity, he returned to the hamlet, where 
 he found the Marquis and the good women of the mansion 
 under some anxiety — the former on account of his absence, 
 the others for the discredit their cookery might sustain by 
 the delay of the supper. All were now at ease, and heard 
 with pleasure that the fire at the castle had burned out of it- 
 self without reaching the vaults, which was the only informa- 
 tion that Ravenswood thought it proper to give in public 
 concerning the event of his butler's stratagem. 
 
 They sat down to an excellent supper. No invitation 
 could prevail on Mr, and Mrs. Girder, even in their own house, 
 to sit down at table with guests of such high quality. They 
 remained standing in the apartment, and acted the part of 
 respectful and careful attendants on the company. Such were 
 the manners of the time. The elder dame, confident through 
 her age and connection with the Ravenswood family, w;w less 
 scrupulously ceremonious. She played a mixed part bstwixt 
 that of the hostess of an inn and the mistress of a privatt 
 house, who receives guests above her own degree. She recora 
 mended, and even pressed, what she thought best, and was 
 herself easily entreated to take a moderate share of the good 
 cheer, in order to encourage her guests by her own example. 
 Of tea she interrupted herself, to express her regret that "my 
 lord did not eat ; that the Master was pyking a bare bane : 
 that, to be sure, there was naething there fit to set before 
 their honors ; that Lord Allan, rest his saul, used to like a 
 pouthered guse, and said it was Latin for a tass o' brandy ; 
 that the brandy came frae France direct ; for, for a' the Eng- 
 lish laws and gangers, the Wolf's Hope brigs hadna forgotten 
 the ^ite to Dunkirk." 
 
 Here the cooper admonished his mother-in-law with his 
 elbow, which procured him the following special notice in the 
 progress of her speech : 
 
 "Ye needna be dunshin that gate, John [Gibbie]," con 
 tinned the old lady; "naebodysays that ye ken whar the 
 brandy comes frae ; and it wadna. be fitting ye should, and vou 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR 246 
 
 tlie Queen's cooper ; and what signifies't," continued she, 
 addressing Lord Ravensvvood, "to king, queen, or kaiser 
 whar an auld wife like me buys her pickle sneeshin, or her 
 drap brandy-wine, to hand her heart up ? " 
 
 Having thus extricated herself from her supposed false 
 step. Dame Loup-the-Dyke proceeded, during the rest of the 
 evening, to supply, with great animation, and very little as- 
 sistance from her guests, the funds necessary for the support 
 of the conversation, until, declining any farther circulation 
 of their glass, her guests requested her permission to retire to 
 cheir apartments. 
 
 The Marquis occupied the chamber of dais, which, in 
 3very house above the rank of a mere cottage, was kept sa- 
 bred for such high occasions as the present. The modern 
 finishing with plaster was then unknown, and tapestry was 
 confined to the houses of the nobility and superior gentry. 
 The cooper, therefore, who vv'as a man of some vanity, as well 
 as some wealth, had imitated tlie fashion observed by the in- 
 ferior landholders and clergy, who usually ornamented their 
 •state apartments with hangings of a sort of stamped leather, 
 manufactured in the Netherlands, garnished with trees and 
 animals executed in copper foil, and with many a pithy sen- 
 tence of morality, which, although couched in Low Dutch, 
 were perhaps as much attended to in i^ractice as if written in 
 broad Scotch. The whole had somewhat of a gloomy aspect ; 
 i)ut the fire, composed of old pitch -barrel staves, blazed mer- 
 rily up the chimney ; the bed was decorated with linen of 
 aiosc fresh and dazzling whiteness, which had never before 
 been used, and might, perhaps, have never been used at all, 
 but for this high occasion. On the toilette beside, stood an 
 old-fashioned mirror, in a fillagree frame, part of the dis- 
 persed finery of the neighboring castle. It was flanked by a 
 iong-necked bottle of Florence wine, by which stood a glass 
 nearly as tall, resembling in shape that which Teniers usually 
 places in the hands of his own portrait, when he paints him- 
 self as mingling in the revels of a country village. To coun- 
 terbalance those foreign sentinels, there mounted guard on 
 the other side of the mirror two stout warders of Scottish 
 lineage ; a jug, namely, of double ale, which held a Scotch 
 pint, and a quaigh, or bicker, of ivory and ebony, hooped 
 with silver, the work of John Girder's own hands, and the 
 pride of his heart. Besides these preparations against thirst, 
 there was a goodly diet-loaf, or sweet cake ; so that, with such 
 auxiliaries, the apartment seemed victualled against a siege O'^ 
 two or three days. 
 
846 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 It only remains to say, that the Marquis's valet was in at- 
 tendance, displaying his master's brocaded nightgown, and 
 richly embroidered velvet cap, lined and faced with Brussels 
 lace, upon a liuge leathern easy-chair, wheeled round so as to 
 have the full advantage of the comfortable fire which we have 
 already mentioned. We therefore commit that eminent per- 
 son to his night's repose, trusting he profited by the ample 
 preparations made for his accommodation — preparations 
 which we have mentioned in detail, as illustrative of ancient 
 Scottish manners. 
 
 It is not necessary we should be equally minute in describ- 
 ing the sleeping apartment of the Master of Eavenswood, 
 which was that usually occupied by the goodman and good- 
 wife themselves. It was comfortably hung with a sort of 
 warm-colored worsted, manufactured in Scotland, approach- 
 ing in texture to what is now called shalloon. A staring 
 picture of John [Gibbie] Girder himself ornamented this dor- 
 mitory, painted by a starving Frenchman, who had, God 
 knows how or why, strolled over from Flushing or Dunkirk 
 to Wolf's Hope in a smuggling dogger. The features were, 
 indeed, those of the stubborn, opinionative, yet sensible ar- 
 tisan, but Monsieur had contrived to throw a French grace 
 into the look and manner, so utterly inconsistent with the 
 dogged gravity of the original, that it was impossible to look 
 at it without laughing. John and his family, however, piqued 
 themselves not a little upon this picture, and were propor- 
 tionably censured by the neighborhood, who pronounced that 
 the cooper, in sitting for the same, and yet more in presuming 
 to ha]ig it up in his bedchamber, had exceeded his privilege 
 as the richest man of the village ; at once stejDped beyond the 
 bounds of his own rank, and encroached upon those of the 
 superior orders ; and, in fine, had been guilty of a very 
 overweening act of vanity and presumption. Respect for the 
 memory of my deceased friend, Mr. Eichard Tinto, has 
 obliged me to treat this matter at some length ; but I spar*^ 
 the reader his prolix though curious observations, as well upon 
 the character of the French school as upon the state of paint- 
 ing in Scotland at the beginning of the 18th century. 
 
 The other preparations of the Master's sleeping apartment 
 were similar to those in the chamber of dais. 
 
 At the usual early hour of that period, the Marquis of 
 
 A and his kinsman prepared to resume their journey. 
 
 This could not be done without an ample breakfast, in which 
 cold meat and hot meat, and oatmeal flummery, wine and 
 spirits, and milk varied by every possible mode of preparation, 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR 241 
 
 evinced the same desire to do honor to their guests which had 
 been shown by the hospitable owners of the mansion upon the 
 evening before. All the bustle of preparation for departure 
 now resounded through Wolf's Hope. There was paying of 
 bills and shaking of hands, and saddling of horses, and 
 harnessing of carriages, and distributing of drink-money. 
 The Marquis left a broad piece for the gratification of John 
 Girder's household, which he, the said John, was for some 
 time disposed to convert to his own use ; Dingwall, the writer, 
 assuring him he was justified in so doing, seeing he was the 
 disburser of those expenses which were the occasion of the 
 gratification. But, notwithstanding this legal authority, 
 John could not find in his heart to dim the splendor of his 
 late hospitality by pocketing anything in the nature of a 
 gratuity. He only assured his menials he would consider 
 them as a damned ungrateful pack if they bought a gill of 
 brandy elsewhere than out of his own stores ; and as the 
 drink-money was likely to go to its legitimate use, he com- 
 forted himself that, in this manner, the Marquis's donative 
 would, without any impeachment of credit and character, 
 come ultimately into his own exclusive possession. 
 
 While arrangements were making for departure. Ravens- 
 wood made blithe the heart of his ancient butler by inform- 
 ing him, cautiously however (for he knew Caleb's warmth of 
 imagination), of the probable change which was about to 
 take place in his fortunes. He deposited with Balderstoue, 
 at the same time, the greater part of his slender funds, with 
 an assurance, which he was obliged to reiterate more than 
 once, that he himself had sufficient supplies in certain pros- 
 pect. He therefore enjoined Caleb, as he valued his favor, to 
 desist from all farther manoeuvres against the inhabitants of 
 Wolf's Hope, their cellars, poultry-yards, and substance 
 whatsoever. In this prohibition, the old domestic acquiesced 
 more readily than his master expected. 
 
 '*' It was doubtless," he said, " a shame, a discredit, and a 
 sin to harry the puir creatures, when the family were in cir- 
 cumstances to live honorably on their ain means ; and there 
 might be wisdom," he added, " in giving them a while's 
 breathing-time at any rate, that they might be the more 
 readily brought forward upon his honor's future occasions." 
 
 This matter being settled, and having taken an affection- 
 ate farewell of his old domestic, the Master rejoined his noble 
 relative, who was now ready to enter his carriage. The two 
 landladies, old and young, having received in all kindly 
 greeting a kiss from each of their noble guests, stood simper- 
 
248 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 ing at the door of their house, as the coach and six, followed 
 by its train of clattering horsemen, thundered out of the vil- 
 lage. John Girder also stood upon his threshold, now look- 
 ing at his honored right hand, wliich had been so lately 
 shaken by a marquis and a lord, and now giving a glance 
 into the interior of his mansion, which manifested all the 
 disarray of the late revel, as if balancing the distinction 
 which he had attained with the expenses of the entertain- 
 ment. 
 
 At length he opened his oracular jaws. " Let every man 
 and woman here set about their ain business, as if there was 
 nae sic thing as marquis or master, duke or drake, laird or 
 lord, in this world. Let the house be redd up, the broken 
 meat set by, and if there is onything totally uneatable, let 
 it be glen to the puir folk ; and, gudemother and wife, I hae 
 just ae thing to entreat ye, that ye will never speak to me a 
 single word, good or bad, anent a' this nonsense wark, but 
 keep a* your cracks about it to yoursells and your kimmers, for 
 my head is weel-nigh dung donnart vvi' it already." 
 
 As John's authority was tolerably absolute, all departed to 
 their usual occupations, leaving him to build castles in the 
 air, if he had a mind, upon the court favor whicli he had ae- 
 quired by the expenditure of his worldly substance. 
 
CHAPTER XXVII 
 
 Why, now I have Dame Fortune by the forelock, 
 And if she escapes my grasp, the fault is mine ; 
 He that hath buffeted with stern adversity 
 Best knows to shape his course to favoring breezes. 
 
 Old Play. 
 
 OuK travellers reached Edinburgh without any farther adven- 
 ture, and the Master of Ravenswood, as had been previously 
 settled, took up his abode with his noble friend. 
 
 In the mean time, the political crisis which had been ex- 
 pected took place, and the Tory party obtained in the Scot- 
 tish, as in the English, councils of Queen Anne a short-lived 
 ascendency, of which it is not our business to trace either the 
 cause or consequences. Suffice it to say, that it affected the 
 different political parties according to the nature of their prin- 
 ciples. In England, many of the High Church party, with 
 Harley, afterwards Earl of Oxford, at their head, affected to 
 separate their principles from those of the Jacobites, and, on 
 that account, obtained the denomination of Whimsicals. The 
 Scottish High Church party, on the contrary, or, as they 
 termed themselves, the Cavaliers, were more consistent, if not 
 so prudent, in their politics, and viewed all the changes now 
 made as preparatory to calling to the throne, upon the queen's 
 demise, her brother, the Chevalier de St. George. Those who 
 had suffered in his service now entertained the most unreason- 
 able hopes, not only of indemnification, but of vengeance upon 
 their political adversaries ; while families attached to the 
 Whig interest saw nothing before them but a renewal of the 
 hardships they had undergone during the reigns of Charles 
 the Second and his brother, and a retaliation of the confisca- 
 tion which had been inflicted upon the Jacobites during that 
 of King William. 
 
 But the most alarmed at the change of system was that 
 prudential set of persons, some of whom are found in all gov- 
 ernments, but who abound in a provisional administration like 
 that of Scotland during the period, and who are what Crom- 
 well called waiters upon Providence, or, in other words, uni- 
 form adherents to the party who are uppermost. Many of 
 
 9» 
 
350 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 these hastened to read their recantation to the Marquis of 
 
 A ; and, as it was easily seen that he took a deep interest 
 
 in the affairs of his kinsman, the Master of Ravenswood, they 
 were the first to suggest measures for retrieving at least a part 
 of his property, and for restoring him in blood against his 
 father's attainder. 
 
 Old Lord Turntippet professed to be one of the most 
 anxious for the success of these measures ; for " it grieved 
 him to the very saul,'" he said, '"to see so brave a young gen- 
 tleman, of sic auld and undoubted nobility, and, what was 
 
 mair than a' that, a bluid relation of the Marquis of A , 
 
 the man whom," he swore, " he honored most upon the face 
 of the yearth, brought to so severe a pass. For his ain puir 
 peculiar," as he said, ''and to contribute something to the 
 rehabilitation of sae auld ane house," the said Turntippet sent 
 in three family pictures lacking the frames, and six high- 
 backed chairs, with worked Turkey cushions, having the crest 
 of Ravenswood broidered thereon, without charging a penny 
 either of the principal or interest they had cost him, when he 
 bought them, sixteen years before, at a roup of the furniture 
 of Lord Ravenswood's lodgings in the Canongate. 
 
 Much more to Lord Turntippet's dismay than to his sur- 
 prise, although he affected to feel more of the latter than the 
 former, the Marquis received his gift very dryly, and observed, 
 that his lordship's restitution, if he expected it to be received 
 by the Master of Ravenswood and his friends, must compre- 
 hend a pretty large farm, which, having been mortgaged to 
 Turntippet for a very inadequate sum, he had contrived, 
 during the confusion of the family affairs, and by means well 
 understood by the lawyers of that period, to acquire to him- 
 self in absolute property. 
 
 The old time-serving lord winced excessively under this 
 requisition, protesting to Grod, that he saw no occasion the 
 lad could have for the instant possession of the land, seeing he 
 would doubtless now recover the bulk of his estate from Sir 
 William Ashton, to which he was ready to contribute by every 
 means in his power, as was just and reasonable ; and finally 
 declaring, that he was willing to settle the land on the young 
 gentleman after his own natural demise. 
 
 But all these excuses availed nothing, and he was com- 
 pelled to disgorge the property, on receiving back the sum for 
 which it had been mortgaged. Having no other means of 
 making peace with the higher powers, he returned home sor- 
 rowful and malcontent, complaining to his confidants, ''That 
 every mutation or change in the estate had hitherto been pro- 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR 251 
 
 ductive of some sma' advantage to him in hisaiu quiet affairs , 
 but that the present had — pize upon it ! — cost him one of the 
 best pen-feuthers o' his wing." 
 
 Simihir measures were threatened against others who had 
 profited by the wreck of the fortune of Ravenswood ; and Sir 
 William Ashton, in particular, was menaced with an appeal 
 to the House of Peers, a court of equity, against the judicial 
 sentences, proceeding upon a strict and severe construction 
 of the letter of the law, under which he held the castle and 
 barony of Ravenswood. With him, however, the Master, as 
 well for Lucy's sake as on account of the hospitality he had 
 received from him, felt himself under the necessity of pro- 
 ceeding with great candor. He wrote to the late Lord 
 Keeper, for he no longer held that office, stating frankly the 
 engagement which existed between him and Miss Ashton, 
 requesting his permission for their union, and assuring him 
 of his willingness to put the settlement of all matters between 
 them upon such a footing as Sir William himself should think 
 favorable. 
 
 The same messenger was charged with a letter to Lady 
 Ashton, deprecating any cause of displeasure which the Master 
 might unintentionally have given her, enlarging upon his at- 
 tachment to Miss Ashton, and the length to which it had pro- 
 ceeded, and conjuring the lady, as a Douglas in nature as 
 well as in name, generously to forget ancient prejudices and 
 misunderstandings, and to believe that the family had acquired 
 a friend, and she herself a respectful and attached humble 
 servant, in him who subscribed himself "Edgar, Master of 
 Ravenswood." 
 
 A third letter Ravenswood addressed to Lucy, and the 
 messenger was instructed to find some secret and secure 
 means of delivering it into her own hands. It contained the 
 strongest protestations of continued affection, and dwelt upon 
 the approaching change of the writer's fortunes, as chiefly 
 valuable by tending to remove the impediments to their 
 union. He related the steps he had taken to overcome the 
 prejudices of her parents, and especially of her mother, and 
 expressed his hope they might prove effectual. If not, he 
 still trusted that his absence from Scotland upon an impor- 
 tant and honorable mission might give time for prejudices to 
 die away ; while he hoped and trusted Miss Ashton's con- 
 stancy, on which he had the most implicit reliance, would 
 baffle any effort that might be used to divert her attachment. 
 Much more there was, which, however interesting to the 
 lovers themselves, would afford the reader neither interest 
 
3SS WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 nor information. To each of these three letters the Mastei 
 of Ravenswood received an answer, but by different means of 
 conveyance, and certainly couched in very different styles. 
 
 Lady Ashton answered his letter by his own messenger, 
 who was not allowed to remain at Ravenswood a moment 
 longer than she was engaged in penning these lines. " For 
 the hand of Mr. Ravenswood of Wolf's Crag — These • 
 
 " SlE, UNKNOWN, 
 
 "I have received a letter, signed 'Edgar, Master of 
 Ravenswood,' concerning the writer whereof I am uncertain, 
 seeing that the honors of such a family were forfeited for high 
 treason in the person of Allan, late Lord Ravenswood. Sir, 
 if you shall happen to be the person so subscribing yourself, 
 you will please to know, that I claim the full interest of a 
 parent in Miss Lucy Ashton, which I have disposed of irrev- 
 ocably in behalf of a worthy person. And, sir, were tiiis 
 otherwise, I would not listen to a proposal from you, or any 
 of your house, seeing their hand has been uniformly held up 
 against the freedom of the subject and the immunities of 
 Grod's kirk. Sir, it is not a flightering blink of prosperity 
 which can change my constant opinion in this regard, seeing 
 it has been my lot before now, like holy David, to see the 
 wicked great in power and flourishing like a green bay-tree ; 
 nevertheless I passed, and they were not, and the place thereof 
 knew them no more. Wishing you to lay these things to your 
 heart for your own sake, so far as they may concern you, I 
 pray you to take no farther notice of her who desires to re- 
 main your unknown servant, 
 
 "Margaret Douglas, 
 
 " otherwise AshtoN"/' 
 
 About two days after he had received this very unsatis • 
 factory epistle, the Master of Ravenswood, while walking up 
 the High Street of Edinburgh, was jostled by a person, in 
 whom, as the man pulled off his hat to make an apology, he 
 recognized Lockhard, the confidential domestic of Sir Will- 
 iam Ashton. The man bowed, slipped a letter into his hand, 
 and disappeared. The packet contained four close-written 
 folios, from which, however, as is sometimes incident to the 
 compositions of great lawyers, little could be extracted, ex- 
 cepting that the writer felt himself in a very puzzling pre- 
 dicament. 
 
 Sir William spoke at length of his high value and regard 
 for his dear young friend, the Master of Ravenswood, and of 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR 268 
 
 his very extreme high value and regard for the Marquis of 
 
 A , his very dear old friend ; he trusted that any measures 
 
 that they might adopt, in which he was concerned, would be 
 carried on with due regard to the sanctity of decreets and 
 judgments obtained in foro contentioso; protesting, before 
 men and angels, that if the law of Scotland, as declared in 
 her supreme courts, were to undergo a reversal in the Eng- 
 lish House of Lords, the evils which would thence arise to 
 the public would inflict a greater wound upon his heart than 
 any loss he might himself sustain by such irregular proceed- 
 ings. He flourished much on generosity and forgiveness of 
 mutual injuries, and hinted at the mutability of human 
 affairs, always favorite topics with the weaker party in poli- 
 tics. He pathetically lamented, and gently censured, the 
 haste which had been used in depriving him of his situation 
 of Lord Keeper,* which his experience had enabled him to 
 fill with some advantage to the public, without so much as 
 giving him an opportunity of explaining how far his own 
 views of general politics might essentially differ frcm those 
 
 now in power. He was convinced the Marquis of i^ had 
 
 as sincere intentions towards the public as himself or any 
 man ; and if, upon a conference, they could have agreed upon 
 the measures by which it was to be pursued, his experience 
 and his interest should have gone to support the present ad- 
 ministration. Upon the engagement betwixt Eavenswood 
 and his daughter, he spoke in a dry and confused manner. 
 He regretted so premature a step as the engagement of the 
 young people should have been taken, and conjured the Mas- 
 ter to remember he had never given any encouragement there- 
 unto ; and observed that, as a transaction inter minor es, and 
 without concurrence of his daughter's natural curators, the 
 engagement was inept, and void in law. This precipitate 
 measure, he added, had produced a very bad effect upon Lady 
 Ashton's mind, which it was impossible at present to remove. 
 Her son, Colonel Douglas Ashton, had embraced her preju- 
 dices in the fullest extent, and it was impossible for Sir Will- 
 iam to adopt a course disagreeable to them without a fatal 
 and irreconcilable breach in his family ; which was not at 
 present to be thought of. Time, the great physician, he 
 hoped, would mend all. 
 
 In a postscript, Sir William said something more explic- 
 itly, which seemed to intimate that, rather than the law of 
 Scotland should sustain a severe wound through his sides, by 
 
 * This obviously cannot apply to Sir James Dalrymple. Lord Stair, who was 
 then dead, and liad never been deprived of any sucli office (Laing). 
 
264 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 a reversal of the judgment of her supreme courts, in the 
 case of the barony of Ravenswood, through the intervention 
 of what, with all submission, he must term a foreign court of 
 appeal, he himself would extrajudicially consent to consider- 
 able sacrifices. 
 
 From Lucy Ashton, by some unknown conveyance, the 
 Master received the following lines : "I received yours, but 
 it was at the utmost risk ; do not attempt to write again till 
 better times. I am sore beset, but I will be true to my word, 
 while the exercise of my reason is vouchsafed to me. That 
 you are happy and prosperous is some consolation, and my 
 situation requires it all." The note was signed " L. A." 
 
 This letter filled Ravenswood with the most lively alarm. 
 He made many attempts, notwithstanding her prohibition, to 
 convey letters to Miss Ashton, and even to obtain an interview ; 
 but his plans were frustrated, and he had only the mortifica- 
 tion to learn that anxious and effectual precautions had been 
 taken to prevent the possibility of their correspondence. The 
 Master was the more distressed by these circumstances, as it 
 became impossible to delay his departure from Scotland, upon 
 the important mission which had been confided to him. Be- 
 fore his departure, he put Sir William Ashton's letter into the 
 
 hands of the Marquis of A , who observed with a smile, 
 
 that Sir William's day of grace was past, and that he had now 
 to learn which side of the hedge the sun had got to. It was 
 with the greatest difficulty that Ravenswood extorted from 
 the Marquis a promise that he would compromise the pro- 
 ceedings in Parliament, providing Sir William should be dis- 
 posed to acquiesce in a union between him and Lucy Ashton. 
 
 " I would hardly," said the Marquis, " consent to your 
 throwing away your birtliright in this manner, were I not 
 perfectly confident that Lady Ashton, or Lady Douglas, or 
 whatever she calls herself, will, as Scotchmen say, keep her 
 threep ; and that her husband dares not contradict her." 
 
 '' But yet," said the Master, " I trust your lordship will 
 consider ray engagement as sacred." 
 
 " Believe my word of honor," said the Marquis, ''I would 
 be a friend even to your follies ; and having thus told you my 
 opinion, I will endeavor, as occasion offers, to serve you ac- 
 cording to your own." 
 
 The Master of Ravenswood could but thank his generous 
 kinsman and patron, and leave him full power to act in all 
 his affairs. He departed from Scotland upon his mission, 
 which, it was supposed, might detain him upon the continent 
 for some montbx. 
 
CHAPTER XXVIII 
 
 Was ever woman in tliis humor wooed ? 
 Was ever woman in this humor won ? 
 I'll have her. 
 
 Richard III. 
 
 Twelve months had passed away since the Master of Ravens- 
 wood's departure for the continent, and, although his return 
 to Scothmd had been expected in a much shorter space, yet 
 the affairs of his mission, or, according to a prevailing report, 
 others of a nature personal to himself, still detained him 
 abroad. In the mean time, the altered state of affairs in Sir 
 William Ashton's family may be gathered from the following 
 conversation which took place betwixt Bucklaw and his con- 
 fidential bottle companion and dependent, the noted Captain 
 Craigengelt. 
 
 They were seated on either side of the huge sepulchral- 
 looking freestone chimney in the low hall at Girnington. A 
 wood tire blazed merrily in the grate ; a round oaken table, 
 placed Ijetween t!iem, supported a stoup of excellent claret, 
 two rummer glasses, and other good cheer ; and yet, with all 
 these appliances and means to boot, the countenance of the 
 patron was dubious, doubtful, and unsatisfied, while the in- 
 vention of his dependant was taxed to the utmost to parry 
 what he most dreaded, a fit, as he called it, of the sullens, on 
 the part of his protector. After a long jiause, only interrupted 
 by the devil's tattoo, which Bucklaw kept beating against 
 the hearth with the toe of his boot, Craigengelt at last ven- 
 tured to break silence. " May I be double distanced," said 
 he, " if ever I saw a man in my life have less the air of a 
 bridegroom ! Cut me out of feather, if you have not more 
 the look of a man condemned to be hanged ! " 
 
 " My kind thanks for the compliment," replied Bucklaw ; 
 " but I suppose you think upon the predicament in which you 
 yourself are most likely to be placed ; and pray. Captain 
 Craigengelt, if it please your worship, why should I look 
 merry, when I'm sad, and devilish sad too ? " 
 
 ''And that's what vexes me," said Craigengelt. " Here 
 is this match, the best in the whole country, and which yon 
 
256 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 were so anxious about, is on the point of being concluded, 
 and you are as sulky as a bear that has lost its whelps/' 
 
 " I do not know," answered the Laird, doggedly, " whether 
 I should conclude it or not, if it was not that I am too far 
 forwards to leap back." 
 
 '' Leap back I " exclaimed Craigenfelt, with a well-assumed 
 air of astonishment, "' that would be playing the back-game 
 with a witness ! Leap back ! Why, is not the girl's for- 
 tune " 
 
 " The young lady's, if you please," said Hayston, inter- 
 rupting him. 
 
 '• Well — well, no disrespect meant. Will Miss Ashton's 
 tocher not weigh against any in Lothian ?" 
 
 " Granted," answered Bucklaw ; "but I care not a penny 
 for her tocher ; I have enough of my own." 
 
 "And the mother, that loves you like her own child ?" 
 
 "Better than some of her children, I believe," said Buck- 
 law, " or there would be little love wared on the matter." 
 
 " And Colonel Sliolto Douglas Ashton, who desires the 
 marriage above all earthly things ?" 
 
 "Because," said Bucklaw, "he expects to carry the 
 county of through my interest." 
 
 " And the father, who is as keen to see the match con- 
 cluded as ever I have been to win a main ?" 
 
 "Ay," said Bucklaw, in the same disparaging manner, 
 "it lies with Sir William's policy to secure the next best 
 match, since he cannot barter his child to save the great 
 Ravenswood estate, which the English House of Lords are 
 about to wrench out of his clutches." 
 
 " What say you to the young lady herself ? " said Craigeu- 
 gelt ; " the finest young woman in all Scotland, one that you 
 used to be so fond of when she was cross, and now she con- 
 sents to have you, and gives up her engagement with Ravens- 
 wood, you are for Jibbing. I must say, the devil's in ye, 
 when ye neither know what you would have nor what you 
 would want." 
 
 "' I'll tell you my meaning in a word," answered Bucklaw, 
 getting up and walking through the room ; "I want to know 
 what the devil is the cause of Miss Ashton's changing her 
 mind so suddenly ? " 
 
 " And what need you care," said Craigengelt, " since the 
 change is in your favor ? " 
 
 " I'll tell you what it is," returned his patron, "I never 
 knew much of that sort of fine ladies, and I believe they may 
 be as capricious as the devil ; but there is something in Miss 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOH '<»7 
 
 Ashton's change a devilish deal too sudden and too serious 
 for a mere flisk of her own, I'll be bound. Lady Ashtoii 
 understands every machine for breaking in the human miTid, 
 ftnd there are as many as there are cannon-bits, martingales, 
 and cavessons for young colts." 
 
 " And if that were not the case/' said Craigengelt, ** how 
 the devil should we ever get tliem into training at all ? " 
 
 " And that's true too/' said Bucklaw,, suspending his 
 march through the dining-room, and leaning upon the back 
 of a chair. *' And besides, here's Ravenswood in the way 
 still ; do you think he'll give up Lucy's engagement ?" 
 
 *' To be sure he will," answered Craigengelt ; " what good 
 can it do him to refuse, since he wishes to marry another 
 woman, and she another man ? " 
 
 •' And you be'ieve seriously," said Bucklaw, " that he is 
 going to marry tlie foreign lady we heard of ?" 
 
 " You hearu yourself," answered Craigengelt, " what 
 Captain Westenho said about it, and the great preparation 
 made for their blithesome bridal." 
 
 " Captain Westenho," replied Bucklaw, " has rather too 
 much of your own cast about him, Craigie, to make what Sir 
 William would call a ' famous witness.'' He drinks deep, 
 plays deep, swears deep, and I suspect can lie and cheat a 
 little into the bargain ; useful qualities Craigie, if kept in 
 their proper sphere, but which have a little too much of the 
 freebooter to make a figure in a court of evidence." 
 
 " Well, then," said Craigengelt, " will you believe Colonel 
 
 Douglas Ashton, who heard the Marquis of A say in v 
 
 public circle, but not aware that he was within ear-shot, that 
 his kinsman had made a better arrangement for himself than 
 to give his father's land for the pale-cheeked daughter of a 
 broken-down fanatic, and that Bucklaw was welcome to the 
 wearing of Ravenswood's shaughled shoes." 
 
 " Did he say so, by heavens ! " cried Bucklaw, brctiking 
 out into one of those uncontrollable fits of passion to wliich 
 he was constitutionally subiect ; " if I had heard him, I would 
 have torn :he tongue out of his throat before all his peats 
 and minion:, and Highland bullies into the bargain. Why 
 did not Ashton ri n him through the body ?" 
 
 " Capot me if I know," said the Captain. " He deserved 
 it sure enough ; but he is an old man. and a minister of state, 
 and there would be more risk than credit in meddling with 
 him. You had more need to think of making up to Miss 
 Lucy Ashton the disgrace that's like to fall upon her than 
 of interfering with a man too old to fight, and on too nigh 
 a stool for your hand to reach him." 
 
258 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 "It shall reach him, though, one day/' said Bucklaw, 
 " aud his kinsman Ravenswood to boot. In the mean time, 
 I'll take care Miss Ashton receives no discredit for the slight 
 they have put upon her. It's an awkward job, however, and 
 I wish it were ended ; I scarce know how to talk to her, — 
 but fill a bumper, Craigie, and we'll drink her health. It 
 grows late, and a night-cowl of good claret is worth all the 
 considering-caps in Europe/' 
 
CHAPTER XXIX 
 
 it was the copy of ouv conference. 
 In bed she slept not, for my urging it ; 
 At board she fed not, for my urging it ; 
 Alone, it was the subject of my theme ; 
 In company I often glanced at it. 
 
 Comedy of Errora. 
 
 The next morning saw Bucklaw and his faithful Achates, 
 Craigengelt, at Ravenswood Castle. They were most courte- 
 ously received by the kuight and his lady, as well as by their 
 son and heir. Colonel Ashton. After a good deal of stam- 
 mering and blushing — for Bucklaw, notwithstanding his 
 audacity in other matters, had all the sheepish bashfulness 
 common to those who have lived in respectable society — he 
 contrived at length to explain his wish to be admitted to a 
 conference with Miss Ashton upon the subject of their ap- 
 proaching union. Sir William and his son looked at Lady 
 Ashton, who replied with the greatest composure, *' That 
 Lucy would wait upon Mr. Hayston directly. I hope," she 
 added with a smile, " that as Lucy is very young, and has 
 been lately trepanned into an engagement of which she is 
 now heartily ashamed, our dear Bucklaw will excuse her 
 wish that I should be present at tlieir interview ?" 
 
 *' In truth, my dear lady,"* said Bucklaw, *'it is the very 
 thing that I would have desired on my own account ; for 1 
 have been so little accustomed to what is called gallantry, 
 that I shall certainly fall into some cursed mistake unless I 
 have the advantage of your ladyship as an interpreter.'" 
 
 It was thus that Bucklaw, in the perturbation of his em- 
 barrassment upon this critical occasion, forgot the just appre- 
 hensions he had entertained of Lady Ashton's overbearing 
 ascendency over her daughter's mind, and lost an opportunity 
 of ascertaining, by his own investigation, the real state of 
 Lucy's feelings. 
 
 The other gentlemen left the room, and in a short 
 time Lady Ashton, followed by her daughter, entered the 
 apartment. She appeared, as he had seen her on former 
 occasions, rather composed than agitated ; but a nicer judge 
 than he could scarce have determined whether her calmness 
 was that of despair or of indifference. Bucklaw was too much 
 
 959 
 
260 WA VERLEY A O VEL S 
 
 agitated by his own feelings minutely to scrutinize those of 
 the lady. He stammered out an unconnected address, con- 
 founding together the two or three topics to which it related, 
 and stopped short before he brought it to any regular conclu- 
 sion. Miss Asliton listened, or looked as if she listened, but 
 returned not a single word in answer, continuing to fix her 
 eyes on a small piece of embroidery on which, as if by instinct 
 or habit, her fingers were busily employed. Lady Ashton sat 
 at some distance, almost screened from notice by the deep 
 embrasure of the window in which she had placed her chair. 
 From this she whispered, in a tone of voice which, though 
 soft and sweet, had something in it of admonition, if not 
 command — " Lucy, my dear, remember — have you heard 
 what Bucklaw has been saying ? " 
 
 The idea of her mother's presence seemed to have slipped 
 from the unhappy girl's recollection. She started, dropped 
 her needle, and repeated hastily, and almost in the same 
 breath, the contradictory answers, *' Yes, madam — no, my 
 lady — I beg pardon, I did not hear.'* 
 
 " You need not blush, my love, and still less need you look 
 so pale and frightened," said Lady Ashton, coming forward ; 
 ** we know that maiden's ears must be slow in receiving a gen- 
 tleman's language; but you must remember Mr. Hayston 
 speaks on a subject on which you have long shice agreed to 
 give him a favorable hearing. You know how much your 
 father and I have our hearts set upon an event so extremely 
 desirable.** 
 
 lu Lady Ashton*s voice, a tone of impressive, and even 
 stern, innuendo was sedulously and skilfully concealed under 
 an appearance of the most affectionate maternal tenderness. 
 The manner was for Bucklaw, who was easily enough imposed 
 upon ; the matter of the exhortation was for the terrified 
 Lucy, who well knew how to interpret her mother's hints, 
 however skilfully their real purport might be veiled f row gen- 
 eral observation. 
 
 Miss Ashton sat upright in her chair, cast round her a 
 glance in which fear was mingled with a still wilder expres- 
 sion, but remained perfectly silent. Bucklaw, who had in the 
 meantime paced the room to and fro, until he had recovered 
 his composure, now stopped within two or three yards of her 
 chair, and broke out as follow : " I believe I have been f 
 d — d fool, Miss Asliton ; I have tried to speak to you as peo- 
 ple tell me young ladies like to be talked to, and I don't think 
 you comprehend what I have been saying ; and no wonder, 
 for d — n me if I understand it myself ! But, however, once 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOB 261 
 
 for all, and in broad Scotch, your father and mother like what 
 is proposed, and if you eau take a plain young fellow for your 
 husband, who will never cross you in anything you have a 
 mind to, I will place you at the head of the best establishment 
 in the three Lothians ; you shall have Lady Girnington's 
 lodging in the Canongate of Edinburgh, go where you please, 
 do what you please, and see what you please — and that's fair. 
 Only I must have a corner at the board-end for a worthless 
 old playfellow of mine, Avhose company I would rather want 
 than have, if it were not that the d — d fellow has persuaded 
 me that I can't do without him ; and so I hope you won't ex- 
 cept against Craigie, although it might be easy to find much 
 better company." 
 
 ''Now, out upon you, Bucklaw," said Lady Ashton, again 
 interposing ; " how can you think Lucy can have any objec- 
 tion to that blunt, honest, good-natured creature. Captain 
 Craigengelt ? " 
 
 "Why, madam/' replied Bucklaw, "as to Craigie's sin- 
 cerity, honesty, and good-nature, they are, I believe, pretty 
 much upon a par ; but that's neither here nor there — the fel- 
 low knows my ways, and has got useful to me, and I cannot 
 well do without him, as I said before. But all this is noth- 
 ing to the purpose ; for, since I have mustered up courage to 
 make a plain proposal, I would fain hear Miss Ashton, from 
 her own lips, give me a plain answer." 
 
 " My dear Bucklaw," said Lady Ashton, " let me spare 
 Lucy's bashfulness. I tell you, in her presence, that she has 
 already consented to be guided by her father and me in this 
 matter. Lucy, my love," she added, with that singular com- 
 bination of suavity of tone and pointed energy which we have 
 already noticed — "Lucy, my dearest love ! speak for yourself, 
 is i^ not as I say ? " 
 
 Her victim answered in a tremulous and hollow voice, " I 
 have promised to obey you — but upon one condition ! " 
 
 "She means," said Lady Ashton, turning to Bucklaw, 
 " she expects an answer to the demand which she has made 
 upon the man at Vienna, or Ratisbon, or Paris — or where is 
 he ? — for restitution of the engagement in which he had the 
 art to involve her. You will not, I am sure, my dear friend, 
 think it is wrong that she should feel much delicacy upon this 
 head ; indeed, it concerns us all." 
 
 " Perfectly right — quite fair," said Bucklaw, half hnm- 
 ming, half speaking the end of the old song — 
 
 " ' It is best to be off wi' the old love 
 Before you be on wi' the new. ' 
 
263 WAVERLEY NCrVELS 
 
 But I thought/' said he, pausing, '''you might have had an 
 answer six times told from Ravenswood. D — n me, if I have 
 not a mind to go and fetch one myself, if Miss Ashton will 
 honor me with the commission." 
 
 "By no means," said Lady Ashton; "we have had the 
 utmost difficulty of preventing Douglas, for whom it would 
 be more proper, from taking so rash a step ; and do you think 
 we could permit you, my good friend, almost equally dear to 
 us, to go to a desperate man upon an errand so desperate ? 
 In fact, all the friends of the family are of opinion, and my 
 dear Lucy herself ought so to think, that, as this unworthy 
 person has returned no answer to her letter, silence must on 
 this, as in other cases, be held to give consent, and a contract 
 must be supposed to be given up, when the party waives in- 
 sisting upon it. Sir William, who should know best, is clear 
 upon this subject ; and therefore, my dear Lucy " 
 
 " Madam," said Lucy, with unwonted energy, "urge me 
 no farther ; if this unhappy engagement be restored, I have 
 already said you shall dispose of me as you will ; till then I 
 should commit a heavy sin in the sight of God and man in 
 doing what you require." 
 
 " But, my love, if this man remains obstinately silent " 
 
 "He will nothQ silent," answered Lucy ; "it is six weeks 
 since I sent him a double of my former letter by a sure hand." 
 
 " You have not — you could not — you durst not," said Lady 
 Ashton, with violence inconsistent with the tone she had in- 
 tended to assume; but instantly correcting herself, "My 
 dearest Lucy," said she, in her sweetest tone of expostulation, 
 " how could you think of such a thing ?" 
 
 "No matter," said Bucklaw ; " I respect Miss Ashton for 
 her sentiments, and I only wish I had been her messenger 
 myself." 
 
 " And pray how long. Miss Ashton," said her mother, 
 ironically, "are we to wait the return of your Pacolet — your 
 fairy messenger — since our humble couriers of flesh and 
 blood could not be trusted in this matter ? " 
 
 " I have numbered weeks, days, hours, and minutes," 
 said Miss Ashton ; " within another week I shall have an 
 answer, unless he is dead. Till that time, sir," she said, 
 addressing Bucklaw, "let me be thus far beholden to you, 
 that you will beg my mother to forbear me upon this sub- 
 ject." 
 
 "I will make it my particular entreaty to Lady Ashton," 
 said Bucklaw. " By my honor, madam, I respect your feel- 
 ings ; and, although the prosecution of this affair be rendered 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR 263 
 
 dearer to me than evei% yet, as I am a gentleman, I would 
 renounce it, were it so urged as to give you a moment's pain." 
 
 "Mr. Hayston, I think, cannot apprehend that," said 
 Lady Ash ton, looking pale with anger, " when the daughter's 
 liappinesB lieu in the bosom of the mother. Let me ask you, 
 MiSB Aghton, in what terms your last letter was couched ?" 
 
 *' Exactly in the same, madam," answered Lucy, " which 
 yon dictated on a former occasion." 
 
 '* When eight days have elapsed, then," said her mother, 
 ''esuming he'' tone of tenderness, ''we shall hope, my dearest 
 love, that you. will end this suspense." 
 
 ** Miss Ashtoa must not be hurried, madam," said Buck- 
 law, whose blnutness of feeling did not by any means arise 
 from want of good-nature ; " messengers may be stopped or 
 delayed. I have known a day's journey broke by the casting 
 of a fore-shoe. Stay, let me see my calendar : the twentieth 
 day from this is St. Jude's, and the day before I must be at 
 Caverton Edge, to see the match between the Laird of Kit- 
 tlsgirth's black mare and Johnston the meal-monger's four- 
 year-old colt ; but I can ride all night, or Craigie can bring 
 me word how the match goes ; and I hope, in the mean time, 
 as I shall not myself distress Miss Asliton with any farther 
 importunity, that your ladyship yourself, and Sir William, 
 and Colonel Douglas will have the goodness to allow her 
 uninterrupted time for making up her mind." 
 
 'Sir," said Miss Ashton, " you are generous." 
 
 " As for that, madam," answered Bucklaw, "I only pre- 
 tend to be a plain, good-humored young fellow, as I said 
 before, who Avill willingly make you hapj)y if you will permit 
 him, and show him how to do so." 
 
 Having said this, he saluted her with more emotion than 
 was consistent with his usual train of feeling, and took his 
 leave ; Lady Ashton, as she accompanied him out of the apart- 
 ment, assuring him that her daughter did full justice to the 
 sincerity of his attachment, and requesting him to see Sir 
 William before his departure, " since," as she said, with a keen 
 glance reverting towards Lucy, "against St. Jude's day, we 
 must all be ready to sign and seal," 
 
 " To sign and seal ! " echoed Lucy in a muttering tone, as 
 the door of the apartment closed — " to sign and seal — to do 
 and die ! " and, clasping her extenuated hands together, she 
 sank back on the easy-chair she occupied, in a state resembling 
 stupor. 
 
 From this she was shortly after awakened by the boisterous 
 entrv of her brother Henry, who clamorousl\ reminded her 
 
264 WAVERLEY JSOVELS 
 
 of a promise to give him two yards of carnatiou ribbon to 
 make knots to his new garters. With the most patient com- 
 posure Lucy arose, and opening a little ivory cabinet, sought 
 out the ribbon the lad wanted, measured it accurately, cut 
 it oft into proper lengths, and knotted it into the fashion his 
 boyish wliim required. 
 
 " Dinna shut the cabinet yet," said Henry, ''for I must 
 have some of your silver wire to fasten the bells to my hawk's 
 jesses, — and yet the new falcon's not worth them neither ; 
 for do you know, after all the plague we had to get her from 
 an eyrie, all the way at Posso, in Manner Water, she's going 
 to prove, after all, notliing better than a rifler : she just wets 
 her singles in the blood of the partridge, and then breaks away, 
 and lets her fly ; and what good can the poor bird do after 
 that, you know, except pine and die in the first heather-cow 
 or whin-bush she can crawl into ?" 
 
 " Right, Henry — right — very right," said Lucy, mourn- 
 fully, holding the boy fast by the hand, after she had given 
 him the wire he wanted ; " but there are more riflers in the 
 world than your falcon, and more wounded birds that seek 
 but to die in quiet, that can find neither brake nor whin-bush 
 to hide their heads in." 
 
 " Ah ! that's some speech out of your romance," said the 
 boy ; " and Sholto says they have turned your head. But I 
 hear Norman whistling to the hawk ; I must go fasten on 
 the jesses." 
 
 And he scampered away with the thoughtless gayety of 
 boyhood, leaving his sister to the bitterness of her own re- 
 flections. 
 
 " It is decreed," she said, ** that every living creature, 
 even those who owe me most kindness, are to shun me, and 
 leave me to those by whom I am beset. It is just it should 
 be thus. Alone and uncounselled, I involved myself in these 
 
 Serils : alone and ancounselled, I must extricate myself or 
 ie." 
 
CHAPTER XXX 
 
 What doth ensue 
 But moody and dull melancholy, 
 Kinsman to grim and comfortless despair, 
 And, at her heels, a huge infectious troop 
 Of pale distemperatures, and foes to life? 
 
 Comedy of Errors. 
 
 A.S some vindication of the ease with which Bucklaw (who 
 otherwise, as he termed himself, was really a very good- 
 humored fellow) resigned his judgment to the management 
 of Lady Ashton, while paying his addresses to her daughter, 
 the reader must call to mind the strict domestic discipline 
 which, at this period, was exercised over the females of a 
 Scottish family. 
 
 The manners of the country in this, as in many other 
 respects, coincided with those of France before the Revolu- 
 tion. Young women of the higher ranks seldom mingled in 
 society until after marriage, and, both in law and fact, were 
 held to be under the strict tutelage of their parents, who 
 were too apt to enforce tlie views for their settlement in life 
 without paying any regard to the inclination of the parties 
 chiefly interested. On such occasions, the suitor expected 
 little more from his bride than a silent acquiescence in the 
 will of her parents ; and as few opportunities of acquaintance, 
 far less of intimacy, occurred, he made his choice by the 
 outside, as the lovers in the Merchant of Venice select the 
 casket, contented to trust to chance the issue of the lottery in 
 which he had hazarded a venture. 
 
 It was not therefore suprising, such being the general 
 manners of the age, that Mr. Hayston of Bucklaw, whom 
 dissipated habits had detached in some degree from the best 
 society, should not attend particularly to those feelings in 
 his elected bride to which many men of more sentiment, 
 experience, and reflection would, in all probability, have been 
 equally indifferent. He knew what all accounted the princi- 
 pal point, that her parents and friends, namely, were de- 
 cidedly in his favor, and that there existed most powerful 
 reasons for their predilection. 
 
 see 
 
266 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 In truth, the conduct of the Marquis of A , since 
 
 Ravenswood's departure, had been such as almost to bar the 
 possibility of his kinsman's union with Lucy Ashton. The 
 Marquis was Ravenswood's sincere but misjudging friend ; or 
 rather, like many friends and patrons, he consulted what he 
 considered to be his relation's true interest, although he knew 
 that in doing so he run counter to his inclinations. 
 
 The Marquis drove on, therefore, with the plenitude of 
 ministerial authority, an appeal to the British House of Peers 
 against those judgments of the courts of law by which Sir 
 William became possessed of Ravenswood's hereditary prop- 
 erty. As this measure, enforced with all the authority of 
 power, was new in Scottish judicial proceedings, though now 
 so frequently resorted to, it was exclaimed against by the 
 lawyers on the opposite side of politics, as an interference 
 with the civil judicature of the country, equally new, arbi- 
 trary, and tyrannical. And if it thus affected even strangers 
 connected with them only by political party, it may be guessed 
 what the Ashton family themselves said and thought under 
 so gross a dispensation. Sir William, still more worldly- 
 minded than he was timid, was reduced to despair by the loss 
 by which he was threatened. His son's haughtier spirit was 
 exalted into rage at the idea of being deprived of his expected 
 patrimony. But to Lady Ashton's yet more vindictive tem- 
 per the conduct of Ravenswood, or rather of his patron, ap- 
 peared to be an offence challenging the deepest and most im- 
 mortal revenge. Even the quiet and confiding temper of 
 Lucy herself, swayed by the opinions expressed by all around 
 her, could not but consider the conduct of Ravenswood as 
 precipitate, and even unkind. " It was my father," she re- 
 peated with a sigh, ''who welcomed him to this place, and 
 encouraged, or at least allowed, the intimacy between us. 
 Should he not have remembered this, and requited it with 
 at least some moderate degree of procrastination in the asser- 
 tion of his own alleged rights ? I would have forfeited for 
 him double the value of these lands, which he pursues with 
 an ardor that shows he has forgotten how much I am impli- 
 cated in the matter." 
 
 Lucy, however, could only murmur these things to her- 
 self, unwilling to increase the prejudices against her lover 
 entertained by all around her, who exclaimed against the 
 steps pursued on his account as illegal, vexatious, and tyran- 
 nical, resembling the worst measures in the worst times of 
 the worst Stuarts, and a degradation of Scotland, the decis- 
 ions of whose learned judges were thus subjected to the re- 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR 267 
 
 view of a court composed indeed of men of the higliest rank, 
 but wlio were not trained to the study of any municipal law, 
 and might be supposed specially to hold in contempt that of 
 Scotland. As a natural consequence of the alleged injustice 
 meditated towards her father, every means was resorted to, 
 and every argument urged, to induce Miss Ashton to break 
 off her engagement with Eavenswood, as being scandalous, 
 shameful, and sinful, formed with the mortal enemy of her 
 family, and calculated to add bitterness to the distress of her 
 parents. 
 
 Lucy's spirit, however, was high, and, although unaided 
 and alone, she could have borne much : she could have en- 
 dured the repinings of her father ; his murmurs against 
 what he called the tyrannical usage of the ruling party ; his 
 ceaseless charges of ingratitude against Eavenswood ; his 
 endless lectures on the various means by which contracts may 
 be voided and annulled ; his quotations from the civil, the 
 municipal, and the canon law ; and his prelections upon the 
 patria potestas. 
 
 She might have borne also in patience, or repelled with 
 scorn, the bitter taunts and occasional violence of her brother. 
 Colonel Douglas Ashton, and the impertinent and intrusive 
 interference of other friends and relations. But it was be- 
 yond her power effectually to withstand or elude the con- 
 stant and unceasing persecution of Lady Ashton, who, laying 
 every other wish aside, had bent the whole efforts of her 
 powerful mind to break her daughter's contract with Eavens- 
 wood, and to place a perpetual bar between the lovers, by 
 effecting Lucy's union with Bucklaw. Far more deeply 
 skilled than her husband in the recesses of the human heart, 
 she was aware that in this way she might strike a blow of 
 deep and decisive vengeance upon one whom she esteemed as 
 her mortal enemy ; nor did she hesitate at raising her arm, 
 although she knew that the wound must be dealt through the 
 bosom of her daughter. With this stern and fixed purpose, 
 she sounded every deep and shallow of her daughter's soul, 
 assumed alternately every disguise of manner which could 
 serve her object, and prepared at leisure every species of dire 
 machinery by which the human mind can be wrenched from 
 its settled determination. Some of these were of an obvious 
 description, and require only to be cursorily mentioned ; 
 others were characteristic of the time, the country, and the 
 persons engaged in this singular drama. 
 
 It was of the last consequence that all intercourse betwixt 
 the lovers should be stopped, and, by dint of gold and 
 
368 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 authority. Lady Asliton contrived to possess herself of such 
 a complete command of all who were placed around her 
 daughter, that, in fact, no leaguered fortress was ever more 
 completely blockaded ; while, at the same time, to all out- 
 ward appearance Miss Ashton lay under no restriction. The 
 verge of her parents' domains became, in respect to her, like 
 the viewless and enchanted line drawn around a fairy castle, 
 where nothing unpermitted can either enter from without or 
 escape from within. Thus every letter, in which Eavens 
 wood conveyed to Lucy Ashton the indis2Densable reasons 
 which detained him abroad, and more than one note which 
 poor Lucy had addressed to him through what she thought 
 a secure channel, fell into the hands of her mother. It 
 could not be but that the tenor of these intercepted letters, 
 especially those of Eavenswood, should contain something to 
 irritate the passions and fortify the obstinacy of her into 
 whose hands they fell ; but Lady Ashton's passions were too 
 deep-rooted to require this fresh food. She burnt the papers 
 as regularly as she perused them ; and as they consumed into 
 vapor and tinder, regarded them with a smile upon her com- 
 pressed lips, and an exultation in her steady eye, which 
 showed her confidence that the hopes of tlie writers should 
 soon be rendered equally unsubstantial. 
 
 It usually happens that fortune aids the machinations of 
 those who are prompt to avail themselves of every chance that 
 offers. A report was wafted from the continent, founded, like 
 others of the same sort, upon many plausible circumstances, 
 but without any real basis, stating the Master of Eavenswood 
 to be on the eve of marriage with a foreign lady of fortune and 
 distinction. This was greedily caught up by both the politi- 
 cal parties, who were at once struggling for power and for 
 popular favor, and who seized, as usual, upon the most pri- 
 vate circumstances in the lives of each other's partisans to 
 convert them into subjects of political discussion. 
 
 The Marquis of A gave his opinion aloud and publiclyj 
 
 not indeed in the coarse terms ascribed to him by Captain 
 Craigengelt, but in a manner sufficiently offensive to the 
 Ashtons. *'He thought the report," he said, *• highly prob- 
 able, and heartily wished it might be true. Such a match 
 was fitter and far more creditable for a spirited young fellow 
 than a marriage with the daughter of an old Whig lawyer, 
 whose chicanery had so nearly ruined his father." 
 
 The other party, of course, laying out of view the opposi- 
 tion which the Master of Eavenswood received from Miss 
 Ashton's family, cried shame upon his fickleness and perfidy. 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR 268 
 
 as if he had seduced the young lady into an engagement, \.i\\d 
 wilfully and causelessly abandoned her for another. 
 
 Sufficient care was taken that this report should find its 
 way to Ravenswood Castle through every various channel, 
 Lady Ashton being well aware that the very reiteration of the 
 same rumor, from so many quarters, could not but gv. « it a 
 semblance of truth. By some it was told as a piece of ordi- 
 nary news, by some communicated as serious intelligence ; 
 now it was whispered to Lucy Ashton's ear in the tone of 
 malignant pleasantry, and now transmitted to her as a matter 
 of grave and serious warning. 
 
 Even the boy Henry was made the instrument of adding 
 to his sister's torments. One morning he rushed into the 
 room with a willow branch in his hand, which he told her had 
 arrived that instant from Germany for her special wearing. 
 Lucy, as we have seen, was remarkably fond of her younger 
 brother, and at that moment his wanton and thoughtless un- 
 kindness seemed more keenly injurious than even the studied 
 insults of her elder brother. Her grief, however, had no 
 shade of resentment ; she folded her arms about the boy's 
 neck, and saying faintly, " Poor Henry ! you speak but what 
 they tell you," she burst into a flood of unrestrained tears. 
 The boy was moved, notwithstanding the thoughtlessness of 
 his age and character. " The devil take me," said he, " Lucy, 
 if I fetch you any more of these tormenting messages again ; 
 for I like you better," said he, kissing away the tears, " than 
 tlie whole pack of them ; and you shall have my gray pony to 
 ride on, and you shall canter him if you like, — ay, and ride 
 beyond the village too, if you have a mind." 
 
 " Who told you," said Lucy, " that I am not permitted to 
 ride where I please ? " 
 
 •* That's a secret," said the boy ; " but you will find you 
 can never ride beyond the village but your horse will cast a 
 shoe, or fall lame, or the castle bell will ring, or something 
 will happen to bring you back. But if I tell you more of 
 these things, Douglas will not get me tlie pair of colors they 
 have promised me, and so good-morrow to you." 
 
 This dialogue plunged Lucy in still deeper dejection, as 
 it tended to show her plainly what she had for some time sus- 
 
 Eected, that she was little better than a prisoner at large in 
 er father's house. We have described her in the outset of 
 our story as of a romantic disposition, delighting in tales of 
 love and wonder, and really identifying herself with the sit- 
 uation of those legendary heroines with those adventures, 
 for want of better reading her memory had become stocked. 
 
270 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 The fairy wand, with which in her solitude she had delighted 
 to raise visions of enchantment, became now the rod of a 
 magician, the bond slave of evil genii, serving only to invoke 
 spectres at which the exorcist trembled. She felt herself 
 the object of suspicion, of scorn, of dislike at least, if not of 
 hatred, to her own family ; and it seemed to her that she 
 was abandoned by the very person on whose account she was 
 exposed to the enmity of all around her. Indeed, the evi- 
 dence of Eavenswood's infidelity began to assume every day 
 a more determined character. 
 
 A soldier of fortune, of the name of Westenho, an old 
 familiar of Craigengelt's, chanced to arrive from abroad about 
 this time. The worthy Captain, though without any precise 
 communication with Lady Ashton, always acted most regu- 
 larly and sedulously in support of her plans, and easily pre- 
 vailed upon his friend, by dint of exaggeration of real 
 circumstances and coining of others, to give explicit testi- 
 mony to the truth of Eavenswood's approaching marriage. 
 
 Thus beset on all hands, and in a manner reduced to 
 despair, Lucy's temper gave way under the pressure of 
 constant affliction and persecution. She became gloomy and 
 abstracted, and, contrary to her natural and ordinary habit 
 of mind, sometimes turned with spirit, and even fierceness, on 
 those by whom she was long and closely annoyed. Her 
 health also began to be shaken, and her hectic cheek and 
 wandering eye gave symptoms of what is called a fever upon 
 the spirits. In most mothers this would have moved com- 
 passion ; but Lady Ashton, compact and firm of purpose, 
 saw these waverings of health and intellect with no greater 
 sympathy than that with which the liostile engineer regards 
 the towers of a beleagured city as they reel under the dis- 
 charge of his artillery ; or rather, she considered these starts 
 and inequalities of temper as symptoms of Lucy's expiring 
 resolution ; as the angler, by the throes and convulsive exer- 
 tions of the fish which he has hooked, becomes aware that he 
 soon will be able to land him. To accelerate the catas- 
 trophe in the present case, Lady Ashton had recourse to an 
 expedient very consistent with the temper and credulity of 
 those times, but which the reader wiU probably pronounce 
 truly detestable and diabolical. 
 
CHAPTER XXXI 
 
 In which a witch did dwell, in loathly weeds, 
 
 And wilful want, all careless of her needs ; 
 
 So choosing solitary to abide. 
 
 Far from all neighbors, that her devilish deeds 
 
 And hellish arts from people she might hide, 
 
 And hurt far off, unknown, whome'er she envied. 
 
 Faerie Queene. 
 
 The health of Lucy Ashton soon required the assistance of 
 a person more skilful in the office of a sick-nurse than the 
 female domestics of the family. Ailsie Gourlay, sometimes 
 called the Wise Woman of Bowden, was the person whom, 
 for hei- own strong reasons, Lady Ashton selected as an attend- 
 ant upon her daughter. 
 
 This woman had acquired a considerable reputation among 
 the ignorant by the pretended cures which she performed, 
 especially in '-oncomes,'' as the Scotch call them, or 
 mysterious diseases, which baffle the regular physician. Her 
 pharmacopoeia consisted partly of herbs selected in planetary 
 hoars, partly of words, signs, and charms, which sometimes, 
 perhaps, produced a favorable influence upon the imagination 
 of her patients. Such was the avowed profession of Luckie 
 Grourlay, which, as may well be siipposed, was looked upoi: 
 with a suspicious eye, not only by her neighbors, but even by 
 the clergy of the district. In private, however, she traded 
 more deeply in the occult sciences ; for, notwithstanding the 
 dreadful punishments inflicted upon the supposed crime of 
 witchcraft, there wanted not those who, steeled by want and 
 bitterness of spirit, were willing to adopt the hateful and 
 dangerous character, for the sake of the influence which its 
 terrors enabled them to exercise in the vicinity, and the 
 wretched emolument which they could extract by the ])ractice 
 of their supposed art. 
 
 Ailsie Gourlay was not indeed fool enough to acknowledge 
 a compact with the Evil One, which would have been a swift 
 and ready road to the stake and tar-barrel. Her fairy, she 
 said, like Caliban's, was a harmless fairy. Nevertheless, she 
 ** spaed fortunes," read dreams, composed philters, discovered 
 
272 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 stolen goods, and made and dissolved matches as successfully 
 as if, according to the belief of the whole neighborhood, she 
 had been aided in those arts by Beelzebub hipiself. The 
 worst of tlie pretenders to these sciences was, that they were 
 generally persons who, feeling themselves odious to humanity, 
 were careless of what they did to deserve the public hatred. Keal 
 crimes were often committed under pretence of magical im- 
 posture ; and it somewhat relieves the disgust with which we 
 read, in the criminal records, the conviction of these wretches, 
 to be aware that many of them merited, as poisoners, suborners, 
 and diabolical agents in secret domestic crimes, the severe 
 fate to which they were condemned for the imaginary guilt 
 of witchcraft. 
 
 Such was Ailsie Gourlay, whom, in order to attain the 
 absolute subjugation of Lucy Ashton^s mind, her mother 
 thought it fitting to place near her j)erson. A woman of less 
 consequence than Lady Asliton had not dared to take such a 
 step ; but her high rank and strength of character set her 
 above the censure of the world, and she was allowed to have 
 selected for her daughter's attendant the best and most ex- 
 perienced sick-nurse and "^mediciner" in the neighborhood, 
 where an inferior person would have fallen under the reproach 
 of calling in the assistance of a partner and ally of the great 
 Enemy of mankind. 
 
 The beldam caught her cue readily and by innuendo, with- 
 out giving Lady Ashton the pain of distinct explanation. 
 She was in many respects qualified for the part she played, 
 which indeed could not be efficiently assumed without some 
 knowledge of the human heart and passions. Dame Gourlay 
 perceived that Lucy shuddered at her external appearance, 
 which we have already described when we found her in the 
 death-chamber of blind Alice ; and while internally she hated 
 the poor girl for the involuntary horror with which she saw 
 she was regarded, she commenced her operations by endeav- 
 oring to efface or overcome those prejudices which, in her 
 heart, she resented as mortal offences. This was easily done, 
 for the hag's external ugliness was soon balanced by a show 
 of kindness and interest, to which Lucy had of late been 
 little accustomed ; her attentive services and real skill gained 
 her the ear, if not the confidence, of her patient ; and under 
 pretence of diverting the solitude of a sick-room, she soon led 
 her attention captive by the legends in which she was well 
 skilled, and to which Lucy's habits of reading and reflection 
 induced her to '^end an attentive ear." Dame Gourlay's 
 tales were at first of a mild and interesting character — 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR. 278 
 
 Of fays that nightly dance upon the wold, 
 And lovers dooni'd to wander and to weep, 
 And castles high, where wicked wizards keep 
 Their captive thralls. 
 
 Gradually, however they assumed a darker and more mys- 
 terious character, and became such as, told by the midnight 
 lamp, and enforced by the tremulous tone, the quivering and 
 livid lip, the uplifted skinny forefinger, and the shaking head 
 of the blue-eyed hag, might have appalled a less credulous im- 
 agination in an age more hard of belief. The old Sycorax 
 saw her advantage, and gradually narrowed lier magic circle 
 around the devoted victim on whose spirit she practised. 
 Her legends began to relate to the fortunes of the Kavens- 
 wood family, whose ancient grandeur and portentoias author- 
 ity credulity had graced with so many superstitions attributes. 
 The story of the fatal fountain was narrated at full length, 
 and with formidable additions, by the ancient sibyl. The 
 prophecy, quoted by Caleb, concerning the dead bride who 
 was to be won by the last of the Eavenswoods, had its own 
 mysterious commentary ; and the singular circumstance of 
 the apparition seen by the Master of Ravenswood in the 
 forest, having partly transpired through his hasty inquiries 
 in the cottage of Old Alice, formed a theme for many ex- 
 aggerations. 
 
 Lucy might have despised these tales if they had been 
 related concerning another family, or if her own situation 
 had been less despondent. But circumstanced as she was, 
 the idea that an evil fate hung over her attachment became 
 predominant over her other feelings ; and the gloom of 
 superstition darkened a mind already sufficiently weakened 
 by sorrow, distress, uncertainty, and an oppressive sense of 
 desertion and desolation. Stories were told by her attendant 
 so closely resembling her own in their circumstances, that 
 she was gradually led to converse upon such tragic and mys- 
 tical subjects with the beldam, and to repose a sort of conii- 
 dence in the sibyl, whom she still regarded with involuntary 
 shuddering. Dame Gourlay knew how to avail herself of 
 this imperfect confidence. She directed Lucy^s thoughts to 
 the means of inquiring into futurity — the surest mode, per- 
 haps, of shaking the understanding and destroying the 
 spirits. Omens were expounded, dreams were interpreted, 
 and other tricks of jugglery perhaps resorted to, by which 
 the pretended adepts of the period deceived and fascinated 
 their deluded followers. I find it mentioned in the articles 
 of dittay against Ailsie Gourlay — for it is some comfort to 
 
374 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 know that the old hag was tried, condemned, and burned on 
 the top of North Berwick Law, by sentence of a commission 
 from the privy council — I find, I say, it was charged against 
 her, among other offences, that she had, by the aid and 
 delusions of Satan, shown to a young person of quality, in 
 a mirror glass, a gentleman then abroad, to whom the said 
 young person was betrotlied, and who appeared in the vision 
 to be in the act of bestowing his hand upon another lady. 
 But this and some other parts of the record appear to have 
 been, studiously left imperfect in names and dates, probably 
 out of regard to the honor of the families concerned. If 
 Dame Gourlay was able actually to play off such a piece 
 of jugglery, it is clear she must have had better assist- 
 ance to practise the deception than her own skill or funds 
 could supply. Meanwhile, this mysterious visionary traffic 
 had its usual effect in unsettling Miss Ashton's mind. Hei 
 temper became unequal, her health decayed daily, her man- 
 ners grew moping, melancholy, and uncertain. Her father, 
 guessing partly at the cause of these appearances, and exert- 
 ing a degree of authority unusual with him, made a point 
 of banishing Dame Gourlay from the castle ; but the arrow 
 was shot, and was rankling barb-deep in the side of the 
 wounded deer. 
 
 It was shortly after the departure of this woman, that Lucy 
 Ashton, urged by her parents, announced to them, with a 
 vivacity by which they were startled, '^'That she was conscious 
 heaven and earth and hell had set themselves against her 
 union with Ravenswood ; still her contract," she said, "was 
 a binding contract, and she neither would nor could resign it 
 without the consent of Ravenswood. Let me be assured," 
 dhe concluded, " that he will free me from my engagement, 
 and dispose of me as you please, I care not how. When the 
 diamonds are gone, what signifies the casket ?" 
 
 The tone of obstinacy with which this was said, her eyes 
 flashing with unnatural light, and her hands firmly clinched, 
 precluded the possibility of dispute ; and the utmost length 
 which Lady Ashton's art could attain, only got her the privi- 
 lege of dictating the letter, by which her daughter required 
 to know of Ravenswood whether he intended to abide by or 
 to surrender what she termed " their unfortunate engagement." 
 Of this advantage Lady Ashton so far and so ingeniously 
 availed herself tliat, according to the wording of the letter, 
 the reader would have supposed Lucy was calling upon her lover 
 to renounce a contract which was contrary to the interests and 
 inclinations of both. Not trusting even to this point of de- 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR 275 
 
 ception, Lady Asliton finally determined to suppress the let- 
 ter altogether, in hopes that Lucy's impatience would induce 
 her to condemn Eavenswood unheard and in absence. In this 
 she was disappointed. The time, indeed, had long elapsed 
 when an answer should have been received from the continent. 
 The faint ray of hoj)e which still glimmered in Lucy's mind 
 was well-nigh extinguished. But the idea never forsook her 
 that her letter might not have been duly forwarded. One of 
 her mother's new machinations unexpectedly furnished her 
 with the means of ascertaining what she most desired to know. 
 The female agent of hell having been dismissed from the 
 castle, Lady Ashton, who wrought by all variety of means, 
 resolved to employ, for working the same end on Lucy's mind, 
 an agent of a very different character. This was no other 
 than the Reverend Mr. Bide-the-Bent, a Presbyterian clergy- 
 man, formerly mentioned, of the strictest order and the most 
 rigid orthodoxy, whose aid she called in, upon the principle 
 of the tyrant in the tragedy : 
 
 I'll have a priest shall preach her from her faith, 
 And make it sin not to renounce that vow 
 Which I'd have broken. 
 
 But Lady Ashton was mistaken in the agent she had selected . 
 His prejudices, indeed, were easily enlisted on her side, and 
 it was no difficult matter to make him regard with hor- 
 ror the prospect of a union betwixt the daughter of a God- 
 fearing, professing, and Presbytei'ian family of distinction 
 and the heir of a bloodthirsty prelatist and persecutor, the 
 hands of whose fathers had been dyed to the wrists in the 
 blood of God's saints. This resembled, in the divine's 
 opinion, the union of a Moabitish stranger with a daughter 
 of Zion. But with all the more severe prejudices and prin- 
 ciples of his sect, Bide-the-Bent possessed a sound judgment, 
 and had learned sympathy even in that very school of persecu- 
 tion where the heart is so frequently hardened. In a private 
 interview with Miss Ashton, he was deeply moved by her dis- 
 tress, and could not but admit the justice of her request to be 
 permitted a direct communication with Eavenswood upon the 
 subject of their solemn contract. When she urged to him 
 the great uncertainty under which slie labored whether her 
 letter had been ever forwarded, the old man paced the room 
 with long steps, shook his gray head, rested repeatedly for a 
 space on his ivory-headed staff, and, after much hesitation, 
 confessed that he thought her doubts so reasonable that he 
 would himself aid in the removal of them. 
 
276 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 "1 cannot but opine. Miss Lucy/' he said, ''that your 
 worshipful lady mother hath in this matter an eagerness 
 whilk, although it ariseth doubtless from love to your best 
 interests here and hereafter, for the man is of persecuting 
 blood, and himself a persecutor, a Cavalier or Malignant, and 
 a sooifer, who hath no iuheritance in Jesse ; nevertheless, we 
 are commanded to do justice unto all, and to fulfil our bond 
 and covenant, as well to the stranger as to him who is in 
 brotherhood with us. Wherefore myself, even I myself, will 
 be aiding unto the delivery of your letter to the man Edgar 
 Kavenswood, trusting that the issue thereof may be your de- 
 liverance from the nets in which he hath sinfully engaged 
 you. And that I may do in this neither more nor less than 
 hath been warranted by your honorable parents, I pray you to 
 transcribe, without increment or subtraction, the letter for- 
 merly expeded under the dictation of your right honorable 
 mother ; and I shall put it into such sure course of being de- 
 livered, that if, honored young madam, you shall receive no 
 answer, it will be necessary that you conclude that the man 
 meaneth in silence to abandon that naughty contract, which, 
 peradventure, he may be unwilling directly to restore/' 
 
 Lucy eagerly embraced the expedient of the worthy divine. 
 A new letter was written in the precise terms of the former, 
 and consigned by Mr. Bide-the-Beut to the charge of Saun- 
 ders Moonshine, a zealous elder of the church when on shore, 
 and when on board his brig as bold a smuggler as ever ran 
 out a sliding bowsprit to the winds that blow betwixt Camp- 
 vere and the east coast of Scotland. At the recommendation 
 of his pastor, Saunders readily undertook that the letter 
 should be securely conveyed to the Master of Eavenswood at 
 the court where he now resided. 
 
 This retrospect became necessary to explain the conference 
 betwixt Miss Ashton, her mother, and Bucklaw which we 
 have detailed in a preceding chapter. 
 
 Lucy was now like the sailor who, while drifting through 
 a tempestuous ocean, clings for safety to a single plank, his 
 powers of grasping it becoming every moment more feeble, 
 and the deep darkness of the night only checkered by the 
 flashes of lightning, hissing as they show the white tops of 
 the billow, in which he is soon to be ingulfed. 
 
 Week crept away after week, and day after day. St. 
 Jude's day arrived, the last and protracted term to which 
 Lucy had" limited herself, and there was neither letter nor 
 news of Ravenswood. 
 
CHAPTER XXXII 
 
 How fair these names, how much unlike they look 
 To all the blurr'd subscriptions in my book ! 
 The bridegrooiu's letters stand in row above, 
 Tapering, yet straight, like pine trees in his grove ; 
 While free and fine the bride's appear below, 
 A.S light and slender as her jessamines grow. 
 
 Crabbe. 
 
 St. JrDE's day came, the term assigned by Lucy herself as 
 the farthest date of expectation, and, as we have ah-eady said, 
 there were neither letters from nor news of Ravenswood. 
 But there were news of Bucklaw, and of his trusty associate 
 Craigengelt, who arrived early in the morning for the com- 
 pletion of the proposed espousals, and for signing the neces- 
 sary deeds. 
 
 These had been carefully prepared under the revisal of Sir 
 William Ashton himself, it having been resolved, on account 
 of the state of Miss Ashton's health, as it was said, that none 
 save the parties immediately interested should be present 
 when the parchments were subscribed. It was farther deter- 
 mined that the marriage should be solemnized upon the 
 fourth day after signing the articles, a measure adopted by 
 Lady Ashton, in order that Lucy might have as little time as 
 possible to recede or relapse into intractability. There was 
 no appearance, however, of her doing either. She heard the 
 proposed arrangement with the calm indifference of despair, 
 or rather with an apathy arising from the ojspressed and 
 stupefied state of her feelings. To an eye so unobserving as 
 that of Bucklaw, her demeanor had little more of reluctance 
 than might suit the character of a bashful young lady, who, 
 Jiowever, he could not disguise from himself, was complying 
 with the choice of her friends rather than exercising any 
 personal predilection in his favor. 
 
 When the morning compliments of the bridegroom had 
 been paid. Miss Ashton was left for some time to herself ; 
 her motlier remarking, that the deeds must be signed before 
 the hour of noon, in order that the marriage might be happy. 
 
 Lucy suffered herself to be attired for the occasion as the 
 taste of her attendants suggested, and was of course splendidly 
 arrayed. Her dress was composed of white satin and Brussels 
 
278 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 lace, and her hair arranged with a profusion of jewels, whose 
 lustre made a strange contrast to the deadly paleness of her 
 complexion, and to the trouble which dwelt in her unsettled 
 eye. 
 
 Her toilette was hardly finished ere Henry appeared, to 
 conduct the passive bride to the state apartment, where all 
 was prepared for signing the contract. "Do you know, sis- 
 ter," he said, " I am glad you are to have Bucklaw after all, 
 instead of Eavenswood, who looked like a Spanish grandee 
 come to cut our throats and trample our bodies under foot. 
 And I am glad the broad seas are between us this day, for I 
 shall never forget how frightened I was when I took him for 
 the picture of old Sir Malise walked out of the canvas. Tell 
 me true, are you not glad to be fairly shot of him ? " 
 
 " Ask me no questions, dear Henry," said his unfortunate 
 sister ; "there is little more can happen to make me either 
 glad or sorry in this world." 
 
 "^A^d that's what all young brides say," said FBnry ; 
 " and so do not be cast down, Lucy, for you'll tell *inother 
 tale a twelvemonth hence ; and I am to be bride's-man, and 
 ride before you to the kirk ; and all our kith, kin, and allies, 
 and all Bucklaw's, are to be mounted and in order ; and lam 
 to have a scarlet laced coat, and a feathered hat, and a sword- 
 belt, double bordered with gold, and point d'Espagne, and a 
 dagger instead of a sword ; and I should like a sword much 
 better, but my father won't hear of it. All my things, and a 
 hundred besides, are to come out from Edinburgh to-night 
 with old Gilbert and the sumpter mules ; and I will bring 
 them and show them to you the instant they come." 
 
 The boy's chatter was here interrupted by the arrival of 
 Lady Ashton, somewhat alarmed at her daughter's stay. With 
 one of her sweetest smiles, she took Lucy's arm under her 
 own, and led her to the apartment where her presence was 
 expected. 
 
 There were only present, Sir William Ashton and Colonel 
 Douglas Ashton, the last in full regimentals ; Bucklaw, in 
 bridegroom trim ; Oraigengelt, freshly equipped from top to 
 toe by the bounty of his patron, and bedizened with as much 
 lace as might have become the dress of the Copper Captain ; 
 together with the Rev. Mr. Bide-the-Bent ; the presence of a 
 minister being, in strict Presbyterian families, an indispen- 
 sable requisite upon all occasions of unusual solemnity. 
 
 Wines and refreshments were placed on a table, on which 
 the writings were displayed, ready for signature. 
 
 But before proceeding either to bMsiness or refreshment. 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR 279 
 
 Mr. Bide-the-Bent, at a signal ' from Sir William Ashton, in- 
 vited the company to join him in a short extemporary prayer, 
 in which he implored a blessing upon the contract now to be 
 solemnized between the honorable parties then present. With 
 the simplicity of his times and profession, which permitted 
 strong personal allusions, he petitioned that the wounded 
 mind of one of these noble parties might be healed, in reward 
 of her compliance with the advice of her right honorable 
 parents ; and that, as she had proved herself a child after God's 
 commandment, by hoiioring her father and mother, she and 
 hers might enjoy the promised blessing — length of days m 
 the land here, and a happy portion hereafter in a better coun- 
 try. He prayed farther, that the bridegroom might be 
 weaned from those follies which seduce youth from the path 
 of knowledge ; that he might cease to take delight in vain 
 and unprofitable company, scoffers, rioters, and those who sit 
 late at the wine (here Bucklaw winked to Craigengelt), and 
 cease from the society that causeth to err. A suitable suppli- 
 cation in behalf of Sir William and Lady Ashton and their 
 family concliidel this religious address, which thus embraced 
 every individual present excepting Craigengelt, whom the 
 worthy divine prolsably considered as past all hopes of grace. 
 
 The business of the day now went forward : Sir William 
 Ashton signed the contract with legal solemnity and precision ; 
 his son, with military nonchalance ; and Bucklaw, having 
 subscribed as rapidly as Craigengelt could manage to turn the 
 leaves, concluded by wiping his pen on that worthy's new 
 laced cravat. 
 
 It was now Miss Ashton's turn to sign the writings, and 
 she was guided by her watchful mother to the table for that 
 purpose. At her first attempt, she began to write with a dry 
 pen, and when the circumstance was pointed out, seemed 
 unable, after several attempts, to dip it in the massive silver 
 ink-standish, which stood full before her. Lady Ashton's 
 vigilance hastened to supply the deficiency. I have myself 
 seen the fatal deed, and in tlie distinct characters in which 
 the name of Lucy Ashton is traced on each page there is only 
 a very sliglit tremulous irregularity, indicative of her state of 
 mind at tiie time of the subscription. But the last signature 
 is incomplete, defaced, and blotted ; for, while her hand was 
 employed in tracing it, the hasty tramp of a horse was heard 
 at the gate, succeeded by a step in the outer gallery, and a 
 voice which, in a commanding tone, bore down the opposi- 
 tion of the menials. The pen dropped from Lucy's fingers, 
 as she exclaimed with a faint shriek — "He is come — he is 
 come ! '* 
 
CHAPTER XXXIII 
 
 This by his tongue should be a Montague I 
 Fetch me my rapier, boy ; 
 Now, by the faith and lionor of my kin. 
 To strike him dead I hold it not a sin. 
 
 Romeo and Juliet. 
 
 Hardly had Miss Ashton dropped the pen, when the dooi 
 of the apartment flew open, and the Master of Eavenswood 
 entered the apartment. 
 
 Lockhard and another domestic, who had in vain attempted 
 to oppose his passage through the gallery or antechamber, 
 were seen standing on the threshold transfixed with surprise, 
 which was instantly communicated to the whole party in the 
 state-room. That of Colonel Douglas Ashton was mingled 
 Avith resentment ; that of Bucklaw with iiaughty and affected 
 indifference ; the rest, even Lady Ashton herself, showed 
 signs of fear ; and Lucy seemed stiffened to stone by this un- 
 expected apparition. Apparition it might well be termed, for 
 Ravenswood had more the appearance of one returned from 
 the dead than of a living visitor. 
 
 He planted himself full in the middle of the apartment, 
 opposite to the table at which Lucy was seated, on whom, as 
 if she had been alone in the chamber, he bent his eyes with a 
 mingled expression of deep grief and deliberate indignation. 
 His dark-colored riding cloak, displaced from one shoulder, 
 hung around one side of his person in the ample folds of the 
 Spanish mantle. The rest of his rich dress was travel-soiled, 
 and deranged by hard riding. He had a sword by his side, 
 and pistols in his belt. His slouched hat, which he had not 
 removed at entrance, gave an additional gloom to his dark 
 features, which, wasted by sorrow and marked by the ghastly 
 look communicated by long illness, added to a countenance 
 naturally somewhat stern and wild a fierce and even savage 
 expression. The matted and dishevelled locks of hair which 
 escaped from under his hat, together with his fixed and un- 
 moved posture, made his head more resemble that of a marble 
 bust than that of a living man. He said not a single word, 
 and there was a deep silence in the company for more than 
 
 two minutes. 
 
 880 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR 281 
 
 It was broken by Lady Asliton, wlio in tliat space partly 
 recovered her natural audacity. She demanded to know the 
 cause of this unauthorized intrusion. 
 
 " That is a question, madam," said lier son, " which I have 
 the best right to ask ; and 1 must request of the Master of 
 Ravenswood to follow me where he can answer it at leisure." 
 
 Bucklaw interposed, saying, "No man on earth should 
 usurp his previous right in demanding an explanation from 
 the Master. Craigeugelt," he added, in an undertone, " d — n 
 ye, why do you stand staring as if you saw a ghost ? fetch me 
 my sword from the g-allery. '' 
 
 ''I will relinquisli to none," said Colonel Ashton, "my 
 right of calling to account the man who has offered this un- 
 paralleled affront to my family." 
 
 " Be patient, gentlemen," said Ravenswood, turning stern- 
 ly towards them, and waving his hand as if to impose silence 
 on their altercation. " If yoii are as weary of your lives as I 
 am, I will find time and place to. pledge mine against one or 
 both; at present, I have noleisurefor the disputes of triflers." 
 
 "Triflers !" echoed Colonel Ashton, half unsheathing his 
 sword, while Bucklaw laid his hand on the hilt of that which 
 Craigengelt had just reached him. 
 
 Sir William Ashton, alarmed for his son's safety, rushed 
 between the young men and Ravenswood, exclaiming, "My 
 son, I command you — Bucklaw, I entreat you — keep the peace, 
 in the name of the Queen and of the law ! " 
 
 " In the name of the law of God," said Bide-the-Bent, 
 advancing also with ujilifted hands between Bucklaw, the 
 Colonel, and the object of their resentment — ''in the name 
 of Him who brought peace on earth and good-will to man- 
 kind, I implore — I beseech — I command you to forbear vio- 
 lence towards each other ! God hatetli the bloodtliirsty man ; 
 he who striketh with the sword shall perish with the sword." 
 
 "Do you take me for a dog, sir," said Colonel Ashton, 
 turning fiercely upon him, " or something more brutally 
 stupid, to endure this insult in my father's house ? Let me 
 go, Bucklaw ! He shall account to me, or, by Heaven, I will 
 stab him where he stands ! " 
 
 " You shall not touch him here," said Bucklaw ; " he once 
 gave me my life, and were he the devil come to fly away with 
 the whole house and generation, he shall have nothing but 
 fair play." 
 
 The passions of the two young men thus counteractiiig 
 each other gave Ravenswood leisure to exchiim. in a stern and 
 steady voice, " Silence !— let him who really seeks danger take 
 
iB2 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 the fitting time when it is to be found ; my mission here 
 will be shortly accomplished. Is that your handwriting, 
 madam ? " he added in a softer tone, extending towards Misa 
 Ashton her last letter. 
 
 A faltering " Yes^' seemed rather to escape from her lips 
 than to be uttered as a voluntary answer. 
 
 " And is this also your handwriting ? *' extending towards 
 her the mutual engagement. 
 
 Lucy remained silent. Terror, and a yet stronger and 
 more confused feeling, so utterly disturbed her understanding 
 that she probably scarcely comprehended the question that 
 was put to her. 
 
 " If you design," said Sir William Ashton, " to found any 
 legal claim on that paper, sir, do not expect to receive any 
 answer to an extrajudicial question." 
 
 " Sir William Ashton," said Ravenswood, *' I pray you, 
 and all who hear me, that you will not mistake my purpose. 
 If this young lady, of her ov/n free will, desires the restora- 
 tion of this contract, as her letter would seem to imply, there 
 is not a withered leaf which this autumn wind strews on the 
 heath that is more valueless in my eyes. But I must and 
 will hear the truth from her own mouth ; without this satis- 
 faction I will not leave this spot. Murder me by numbers 
 you possibly may ; but I am an armed man — I am a desperate 
 man, and I will not die without ample vengeance. This is 
 my resolution, take it as you may. I v^^ill hear her deter- 
 mination from her own mouth ; from her own mouth, alone, 
 and without witnesses, will I hear it. Now, choose," he said, 
 drawing his sword with the right hand, and, with the left, 
 by the same motion taking a pistol from his belt and cocking 
 it, but turning the point of one weapon and the muzzle of 
 the other to the ground — "choose if you will have this hall 
 floated with blood, or if you will grant me the decisive in- 
 terview with ray affianced bride which the laws of God and 
 the country alike entitle me to demand." 
 
 All recoiled at the sound of his voice and the determined 
 action by which it was accompanied ; for the ecstasy of real 
 desperation seldom fails to overpower the less energetic 
 passions bv which it mav be opposed. The clergyman was 
 the first to speak. " In^the name of God," he said, "receive 
 an overture of peace from the meanest of His servants. 
 What this honorable person demands, albeit it is urged with 
 over violence, hath yet in it something of reason. Let him 
 hear from Miss Lucy's own lips tliat she hath dutifully 
 acceded to the will of her parents, and repenteth her of her 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR 283 
 
 covenant with him ; and when he is assured of this he will de- 
 part in peace unto his own dwelling, and cumber us no more. 
 Alas ! the workings of the ancient Adam are strong even in 
 the regenerate ; surely we should have long-suffering with 
 those who, being yet in the gall of bitterness and bond of 
 iniquity, are swept forward by the uncontrollable current of 
 worldly passion. Let, then, the Master of Ravenswood have 
 the interview on which he insisteth ; it can but be as a passing 
 pang to this honorable maiden, since her faith is now irrevo- 
 cably pledged to the choice of her parents. Let it, I say, 
 be thus : it belongeth to my functions to entreat your honors' 
 compliance with this healing overture." 
 
 " Never ! " answered Lady Ashton, whose rage had now 
 overcome her first surprise and horror — " never shall this man 
 speak in private with my daughter, the affianced bride of 
 another ! Pass from this room who will, I remain here. I 
 fear neither his violence nor his weapons, though some," she 
 said, glancing a look towards Colonel Ashton, "who bear my 
 name appear more moved by them." 
 
 " For God's sake, madam," answered the worthy divine, 
 " add not fuel to firebrands. The Master of Eavenswood 
 cannot, I am sure, object to your presence, the young lady's 
 state of health being considered, and your maternal duty. I 
 myself will also tarry ; peradventure my gray hairs may turn 
 away wrath." 
 
 " You are welcome to do so, sir," said Eavenswood ; 
 " and Lady Ashton is also welcome to remain, if she shall 
 think proper ; but let all others depart." 
 
 " Ravenswood," said Colonel Ashton, crossing him as he 
 went out, " you shall account for this ere long." 
 
 " When you please," replied Ravenswood. 
 
 " But I," said Bucklaw with a half smile, ''have a prior 
 demand on your leisure, a claim of some standing." 
 
 " Arrange it as you will," said Ravenswood ; " leave me but 
 this day in peace, and I will have no dearer employment on 
 earth to-morrow than to give you all the satisfaction you can 
 desire." 
 
 The other gentlemen left the apartment ; but Sir William 
 Ashton lingered. 
 
 ''Master of Ravenswood," he said, in a conciliating tone, 
 " I think I have not deserved that you should make this scan- 
 dal and outrage in my family. If you will sheathe your sword, 
 and retire with me into my study, I will prove to you, by the 
 most satisfactory arguments, the inutility of your present 
 irregular procedure " 
 
284 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 " To-morrow, sir — to-morrow — to-morrow, I will hear you 
 at length," reiterated Ravenswood, interrupting him; '* this 
 day hath its own sacred and indispensable business." 
 
 He pointed to the door, and Sir William left the apart- 
 ment. 
 
 Ravenswood sheathed his sword, uncocked and returned 
 his pistol to his belt ; walked deliberately to the door of the 
 apartment, which he bolted ; returned, raised his hat from 
 his forehead, and, gazing upon Lucy with eyes in which an 
 expression of sorrow overcame their late fierceness, spread his 
 dishevelled locks back from his face, and said, "Do you know 
 me. Miss Ashton ? I am still Edgar Ravenswood." She was 
 silent, and he went on with increasing vehemence — "lam 
 still that Edgar Ravenswood who, for your affection, re- 
 nounced the dear ties by which injured honor bound him to 
 seek vengeance. I am that Ravenswood who, for your sake, 
 forgave, nay, clasped hands in friendship with, the oppressor 
 and pillager of his house, the traducer and murderer of his 
 father." 
 
 ''My daughter," answered Lady Ashton, interrupting 
 him, ''has no occasion to dispute the identity of your person ; 
 the venom of your present language is sufficient to remind her 
 that she speaks with the mortal enemy of her father." 
 
 "I pray you to be patient, madam," answered Ravens- 
 wood; "my answer must come from her own lips. Once 
 more. Miss Lucy Ashton, I am that Ravenswood to whom you 
 granted the solemn engagement which you now desire to re- 
 tract and cancel." 
 
 Lucy's bloodless lips could only falter out the words, "It 
 was my mother." 
 
 " She speaks truly," said Lady Ashton, " it was I who, au- 
 thorized alike by the laws of God and man, advised her, and 
 concurred with her, to set aside an unhappy and precipitate 
 engagement, and to annul it by the authority of Scripture 
 itself." 
 
 " Scripture !" said Ravenswood, scornfully. 
 
 " Let him hear the text," said Lady Ashton, appealing 
 to the divine, " on which you yourself, with cautious reluc- 
 tance, declared the nullity of the pretended engagement in- 
 sisted upon by this violent man." 
 
 The clergyman took his clasped Bible from his pocket, 
 and read the following words : " If a woman vow a vow unto 
 the Lord, and bind herself by a bond, being in her father's 
 house in her youth, and her father hear her vow, and her bond 
 \k'herewith she hath bound her soul, and her father shall hold 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR 285 
 
 his peace at her ; tlieii all her vows shall stand, and every 
 vow wherewith she hath bound her soul shall stand." 
 
 " And was it not even so with us ?" interrupted Eavens- 
 wood. 
 
 " Control thy impatience, young man," answered the 
 divine, " and hear what follows in the sacred text : 'But if 
 her father disallow her in the day that he heareth, not any of 
 her vows, or of her bonds wherewith she hath bound her soul, 
 shall stand ; and the Lord shall forgive her, because her father 
 disallowed her/ " 
 
 ''And was not," said Lady Ashton, fiercely and trium- 
 pliantly breaking in — " was not ours the case stated in the 
 Holy Writ ? AVill this person deny, that the instant her 
 parents heard of the vow, or bond, by which our daughter had 
 bound her soul, we disallowed the same in the most express 
 terms, and informed him by writing of our determination ?" 
 
 " And is this all ? " said Eavenswood, looking at Lucy. 
 " Are you willing to barter sworn faith, the exercise of free 
 will, and the feelings of mutual affection to this wretched 
 hypocritical sophistry ? " 
 
 "Hear him \" said Lady Ashton, looking to the clergy- 
 man — "■ hear the blasphemer ! " 
 
 " May God forgive him," said Bide-the-Bent, '' and en- 
 lighten his ignorance ! " 
 
 " Hear what I have sacrificed for you," said Eavenswood, 
 still addressing Lucy, "ere you sanction wliat has been done 
 in your name. The honor of an ancient family, the urgent 
 advice of my best friends, have been in vain used to sway my 
 resolution ; neither the arguments of reason nor the portents 
 of superstition have shaken my fidelity. The very dead have 
 arisen to warn me, and their warning has been despised. Are 
 you prepared to pierce my heart for its fidelity with the very 
 weapon which my rash confidence intrusted to your grasp '^'* 
 
 " Master of Eavenswood," said Lady Ashton, "you have 
 asked what questions you thought fit. You see the total 
 incapacity of my daughter to answer you. But I will reply for 
 her, and in a manner which you cannot dispute. You desire 
 to know whether Lucy Ashton, of her own free will, desires 
 to annul the engagement into which she has been trepanned. 
 You have her letter under her OAvn hand, demanding the 
 surrender of it ; and, in yet more full evidence of her pur- 
 pose, here is the contract which she has this morning sub- 
 scribed, in presence of this reverend gentleman, with Mr. 
 Hayston of Bucklaw." 
 
 Eavenswood gazed upon the deed as if petrified. "And 
 
386 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 it was "withont fraud or compulsion," said he^ looking towards 
 the clergyman, " that Miss Asliton subscribed this parch- 
 ment ?" 
 
 " I vouch it upon my sacred character." 
 
 " This is indeed, madam, an undeniable piece of evi- 
 dence," said Ravenswood, sternly; "and it wiU be equally 
 unnecessary and dishonorable to waste another word in use- 
 less remonstrance or reproach. There, madam," he said, 
 laying down before Lucy the signed paper and the broken 
 piece of gold — " there are the evidences of your first engage- 
 ment ; may you be more faithful to that which you have 
 just formed. I will trouble vou to return the corresponding 
 tokens of my ill-placed confidence ; I ought rather to say, of 
 my egregious folly." 
 
 Lucy returned the scornful glance of her lover with a 
 gaze from which perception seemed to have been banished ; 
 yet she seemed partly to have understood his meaning, for 
 she raised her hands as if to undo a blue ribbon which she 
 wore around her neck. She was unable to accomplish her 
 purpose, but Lady Ashton cut the ribbon asunder, and de- 
 tached the broken piece of gold, which Miss Ashton had till 
 then worn concealed in her bosom ; the written counterpart 
 of the lovers' engagement she for some time had had in her 
 own possession. With a haughty courtesy, she delivered 
 both to Ravenswood, who was much softened when he took 
 the piece of gold. 
 
 " And she could wear it thus," he said, speaking to him- 
 self — " could wear it in her very bosom — could wear it next to 
 
 her heart — even when But complaint avails not," he 
 
 said, dashing from his eye the tear which had gathered in it, 
 and resuming the stern composure of his manner. He strode 
 to the chimney, and threw into the fire the paper and piece 
 of gold, stamping upon the coals, with the heel of his boot; 
 as if to insure their destruction. "I will be no longer," he 
 then said, " an intruder here. Your evil wishes, and your 
 worse offices. Lady Ashton, I will only return by hoping these 
 will be your last machinations against your daughter's honor 
 and happiness. And to you, madam," he said, addressing 
 Lucy, '' I have nothing farther to say, except to pray to God 
 that you may not become a world's wonder for this act of 
 wilful and deliberate perjury." Having uttered these words, 
 he turned on his heel and left the apartment. 
 
 Sir William Ashton, by entreaty and authority, had de- 
 tained his son and Bucklaw in a distant part of the castle, in 
 order to prevent their again meeting with Ravenswood ; but 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR 287 
 
 as the Master devsceiided the great staircase, Lockhard de- 
 livered him a billet, signed "Sholto Douglas Ashton/' re- 
 questing to know where the Master of Ravenswood would be 
 heard of four or five days from hence, as the writer had busi- 
 ness of weight to settle with him, so soon as an important 
 family event had taken place. 
 
 " Tell Colonel Ashton," said Eavenswood, composedly, 
 "I shall be found at Wolf's Crag when his leisure serves 
 him/' 
 
 As he descended the outward stair which led from the 
 terrace, he was a second time interrupted by Craigengelt, 
 who, on the part of his principal, the Laird of Bucklaw, ex- 
 pressed a hope that Eavenswood would not leave Scotland 
 within ten days at least, as he had both former and recent 
 civilities for which to express his gratitude. 
 
 "Tell your master," said Eavenswood, fiercely, "to 
 choose his own time. He will find me at Wolf's Crag, if his 
 purpose is not forestalled." 
 
 "My master !" replied Craigengelt, encouraged by seeing 
 Colonel Ashton and Bucklaw at the bottom of the terrace. 
 " Give me leave to say I know of no such person upon earth, 
 nor will I permit such language to be used to me ! " 
 
 " Seek your master, then, in hell ! " exclaimed Eavens- 
 wood, giving way to the passion he had hitherto restrained, 
 and throwing Craigengelt from him with such violence that 
 he rolled down the steps and lay senseless at the foot of them. 
 " I am a fool," he instantly added, " to vent my passion upon 
 a caitiff so worthless." 
 
 He then mounted his horse, which at his arrival he had 
 secured to a balustrade in front of the castle, rode very slowly 
 past Bucklaw and Colonel Ashton, raising his hat as he passed 
 each, and looking in their faces steadily while he offered this 
 mute salutation, which was returned by both with the same 
 stern gravity. Ravenswood walked on with equal delibera- 
 tion until he reached the head of the avenue, as if to show 
 that he rather courted than avoided interruption. When he 
 had passed the upper gate, he turned his horse, and looked 
 at the castle with a fixed eye ; then set spurs to his good 
 steed, and departed with the speed of a demon dismissed by 
 the exorcist. 
 
CHAPTER XXXIV 
 
 Who comes from the bridal chamber? 
 It is Azrael, the angel of death. 
 
 TTialaba. 
 
 After the dreadful scene that had taken place at the castle, 
 Lncy was transported to her own chamber^, where she re- 
 mained for some time in a state of absolute stupor. Yet 
 afterwards, in the course of the ensuing day, she seemed to 
 have recovered, not merely her spirits and resolution, but a 
 sort of flighty levity, that was foreign to her character and 
 situation, and which was at times checkered by fits of deep 
 silence and melancholy, and of capricious pettishness. Lady 
 Ashton became much alarmed, and consulted the family 
 physicians. But as her pulse indicated no change, they could 
 only say that tlie disease was on the spirits, and recommended 
 gentle exercise and amusement. Miss Ashton never alluded 
 to what had passed in the state-room. It seemed doubtful 
 even if she was conscious of it, for slie was often observed to 
 raise her hands to her neck, as if in search of the ribbon that 
 had been taken from it, and mutter, in surprise and discon- 
 tent, when she could not find it, " It Avas the link that bound 
 me to life." 
 
 Notwithstanding all these remarkable symptoms. Lady 
 Ashton was too deeply pledged to delay her daughter's mar- 
 riage even in her present state of health. It cost her much 
 trouble to keep up the fair side of appearances towards Buck- 
 law. She was well aware, that if he once saw any reluctance 
 on her daughter's part, he would break off the treaty, to her 
 great personal shame and dishonor. She therefore resolved 
 that, if Lucy continued passive, the marriage should take place 
 upon the day that had been previously fixed, trusting that a 
 change of place, of situation, and of character would operate 
 a more speedy and effectual cure upon the unsettled spirits of 
 her daughter than could be attained by the slow measures 
 which the medical men recommended. Sir William Ashton's 
 views of family aggrandizement, and his desire to strengthen 
 
 himself against the measures of the Marquis of A , readily 
 
 induced hira to acquiesce in what he could not have perhaps 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR 289 
 
 resisted if willing to do so. As for the young men, Bucklaw 
 and Colonel Ashton, they protested that, after what had hap- 
 pened, it would be most dishonorable to postpone for a single 
 hour the time appointed for the marriage, as it would be gen- 
 erally ascribed to their being intimidated by the intrusive 
 visit and threats of Ravenswood. 
 
 Backlaw would indeed have been incapable of such pre- 
 cipitation, had he been aware of the state of Miss Ashton's 
 health, or rather of her mind. But custom, upon these 
 occasions, permitted only brief and sparing intercourse 
 between the bridegroom and the betrothed, a circumstance 
 so well improved by Lady Ashton, that Bucklaw neither saw 
 nor suspected the real state of the health and feelings of his 
 unhappy bride. 
 
 On the eve of the bridal day, Lucy appeared to have one 
 of her fits of levity, and surveyed with a degree of girlish 
 interest the various preparations of dress, etc., etc., which 
 the different members of the family had prepared for the 
 occasion. 
 
 The morning dawned bright and cheerily. The bridal 
 guests assembled in gallant troops from distant quarters. 
 Not only the relations of Sir William Ashton, and the still 
 more dignified connections of his lady, together with the 
 numerous kinsmen and allies of the bridegroom, were present 
 upon this joyful ceremony, gallantly mounted, arrayed, and 
 caparisoned, but almost every Presbyterian family of distinc- 
 tion within fifty miles made a point of attendance upon an 
 occasion which was considered as giving a sort of triumph 
 
 over the Marquis of A , in the person of his kinsman. 
 
 Splendid refreshments awaited the guests on their arrival, 
 and after these were finished, the cry was " To horse.'" The 
 bride was led forth betwixt her brother Henry and her 
 mother. Her gayety of the preceding day had given rise 
 [place] to a deep shade of melancholy, which, however, did 
 not misbecome an occasion so momentous. There was a 
 light in her eyes and a color in her cheek which had not been 
 kindled for many a day, and which, joined to her great 
 beauty, and the splendor of her dress, occasioned her en- 
 trance to be greeted with a universal murmur of applause, 
 in which even the ladies could not refrain from joining. 
 While the cavalcade were getting to horse, Sir William Ash- 
 ton, a man of peace and of form, censured his son Henry for 
 having begirt himself with a military sword of preposterous 
 length, belonging to his brother, Colonel Ashton. 
 
 " If you must have a weapon," he said, •' upon such »» 
 
290 n'AVERLEY IfOVELS 
 
 peaceful occasion, why did you not use the short poniard sent 
 from Edinburgh on purpose ?" 
 
 The boy vindicated himself by saying it was lost. 
 
 " You put it out of the way yourself, I suppose," said his 
 father, " out of ambition to wear that preposterous thing, 
 which might have served Sir William Wallace. But never 
 mind, get to horse now, and take care of your sister." 
 
 The boy did so, and was placed in the centre of the gal- 
 lant train. At the time, he was too full of his own appear- 
 ance, his sword, his laced cloak, his feathered hat, and his 
 managed horse, to pay much regard to anything else ; but he 
 afterwards remembered to the hour of his death, that when 
 the hand of his sister, by which she supported herself on the 
 pillion behind him, touched his own, it felt as wet and cold 
 as sepulchral marble. 
 
 Glancing wide over hill and d le, the fair bridal proces- 
 sion at last reached the parish church, which they nearly 
 filled ; for, besides domestics, above a hundred gentlemen and 
 ladies were present upon t'\e occasion. The marriage cere- 
 mony was performed according to the rites of the Presbyterian 
 persuasion, to which Bucklaw of late had judged it proper to 
 conform. 
 
 On the outside of the church, a liberal dole was distributed 
 to the poor of the neighboring parishes, under the direction 
 of Johnie Mortheuch [Mortsheugh], who had lately been pro- 
 moted from his desolate quarters at the Hermitage to fill the 
 more eligible situation of sexton at the parish church of Ea- 
 venswood. Dame Gourlay, with two of her contemporaries, 
 the same who assisted at Alice's late- wake, seated apart upon 
 a fiat monument, or '' through-stane," sat enviously com- 
 paring the shares which had been allotted to them in dividing 
 the dole. 
 
 '* Johnie Mortheuch," said Annie Winnie, *' might hae 
 minded auld lang syne, and thought of his auld kimmers, for 
 as braw as he is with his new black coat. I hae gotten but 
 five herring instead o' sax, and this disna look like a gude 
 saxpennys, and I dare say this bit morsel o' beef is an unce 
 lighter than ony that's been dealt round ; and it's a bit o' the 
 tenony hough, mair by token that yours, Maggie, is onto' the 
 back-sey." 
 
 " Mine, quoth she ! " mumbled the paralytic hag — " mine 
 is half banes, I trow. If grit folk gie poor bodies onything 
 for coming to their weddings and burials, it suld be something 
 that wad do them gude, I think." 
 
 *' Their gifts," said Ailsie Gourlay, " are dealt for nae 
 
TUE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOn 291 
 
 love of us, nor out of respect for whether we feed or starve. 
 They wad gie us whinstanes for loaves, if it would serve tlieir 
 ain vanity, and yet they expect us to be as gratefu', as they 
 ca' it, as if they served us for true love and liking," 
 
 "And that's truly said," answered her companion. 
 
 "■ But, Ailsie Gourlay, ye're the auldest o' us three — did 
 ye ever see a mair grand bridal." 
 
 " I winna say that I have," answered the hag ; " but I 
 think soon to see as braw a burial." 
 
 "And that wad please me as weel," said Annie Winnie ; 
 "for there's as large a dole, and folk are no obliged to girn 
 and laugh, and mak murgeons, and wish joy to these hellicat 
 quality, that lord it ower us like brute beasts. I like to pack 
 the dead-dole in my lap, and rin ower my auld rhyme — 
 
 " ' My loaf in my lap, my penny in my purse, 
 
 Thou art ne'er the better, and I'm ne'er the worse.'"* 
 
 *' That's right, Annie," said the paralytic woman ; " God 
 send us a green Yule and a fat kirkyard I" 
 
 " But I wad like to ken, Luckie Gourlay, for ye're the 
 auldest and wisest amang us, whilk o' these revellers' turn it 
 will be to be streikit first ? " 
 
 " D'ye see yon daudilly maiden," said Dame Gourlay, 
 " a' glistenin' wi' gowd and jewels, that they are lifting up on 
 the white horse behind that hare-brained callant in scarlet, 
 wi' the lang sword at his side ?" 
 
 "But that's the bride !" said her companion, her cold 
 heart touched with some sort of compassion — • • that's the very 
 bride hersell I Eh, whow ! sae young, sae braw, and sae 
 bonny — and is her time sae short ? " 
 
 " I tell ye," said the sibyl, " her winding sheet is up as 
 high as her throat already, believe it wha list. Her sand has 
 but few grains to rin out ; and nae wonder — they've been 
 weel shaken. The leaves are Avithering fast on the trees, but 
 she'll never see the Martinmas wind gar them dance in swirls 
 like the fairy rings." 
 
 " Ye waited on her for a quarter," said the paralytic 
 woman, ** and got twa red pieces, or 1 am far beguiled ?" 
 
 " Ay, ay," answered Ailsie, with a bitter grin ; " and Sii- 
 William Ashton promised me a bonny red gown to the boot 
 o' that — a stake, and a chain, and a tar-barrel, lass I what 
 think ye o' that for a propiue ?— for being up early and doun 
 late for fourscore nights and mair wi' his dwining daagiitei.. 
 But he may keep it for his ain leddy, cummers. " 
 * See Curing Dy 'Jhaxin& JNote IL 
 
292 WAVE RLE r NOVELS 
 
 ** I hae heard a sough/' said Annie "Winnie, " as if Leddy 
 Ashton was nae canny body." 
 
 " D'ye see her yonder/' said Dame Gourhiy, as she 
 prances on her gray gehling out at the kirkyard ? There's 
 mair o' utter deevilry in that woman, as brave and fair-fash- 
 ioned as she rides yonder, than in a' the Scotch witches that 
 ever flew by moonlight ower JSTorth Berwick Law." 
 
 " What's that ye say about witches, ye damned hags ?" 
 said Johnie Mortheuch [Mortsheugh] ; " are ye casting yer 
 cantrips in the very kirkyard, to miscliieve the bride and 
 bridegroom ? Get awa' liame, for if I tak my souple t'ye, I'll 
 gar ye find the road faster than ye wad like." 
 
 " Hegh, sirs !" answered Ailsie Gourlay ; "how bra' are 
 we wi' our new black coat and our weel-pouthered head, as if 
 we had never kenned hunger nor thirst oursells ! and we'll be 
 screwing up our bit fiddle, doubtless, in the ha' the night, 
 amang a' the other elbow-jiggers for miles round. Let's see 
 if the pins baud, Johnie — that's a', lad." 
 
 **I take ye a' to witness, gude people," said Mortheuch, 
 ** that she threatens me wi' mischief, and f orespeaks me. If 
 onything but gude happens to me or my fiddle this night, 
 I'll make it the blackest night's job she ever stirred in. I'll 
 hae her before presbytery and synod : I'm half a minister my- 
 sell, now that I'm a bedral in an inhabited parish." 
 
 Although the mutual hatred betwixt these hags and the 
 rest of mankind had steeled their hearts against all impres- 
 sions of festivity, this was by no means the case with the multi- 
 tude at large. The splendor of the bridal retinue, the gay 
 dresses, the spirited horses, the blithesome appearance of the 
 handsome women and gallant gentlemen assembled upon the 
 occasion, had the usual effect u])on the minds of the popu- 
 lace. The repeated shouts of " Ashton and Bucklaw for- 
 ever I*' the discharge of pistols, guns, and musketoons, to 
 give what was called the bridal shot, evinced the interest the 
 people took in the occasion of the cavalcade, as they accom- 
 panied it upon their return to the castle. If there was here 
 and there an elder peasant or his wife who sneered at the 
 pomp of the upstart family, and remembered the days of the 
 long-descended Ravenswoods, even they, attracted by the 
 plentiful cheer which the castle that day afforded to rich and 
 poor, held their way thither, and acknowledged, notwith- 
 standing their prejudices, the influence of V Amphitrion ou 
 Von dine. 
 
 Thus accompanied with the attendance both of rich and 
 poor, Lucy returned to her father's house. Bucklaw used 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR 293 
 
 his priyilege of riding next to the bride, but, new to such a 
 situation, rather endeavored to attract attention by the dis- 
 play of his person and horsemansliip, than by any attempt to 
 address lier in private, Tliey reached the castle in safety, 
 amid a thousand joyous acclamations. 
 
 It is well known that tlie weddings of ancient days were 
 celebrated with a festive publicity rejected by the delicacy of 
 modern times. The marriage guests, on the present occasion, 
 were regaled with a banquet of unbounded profusion, the 
 relics of which, after the domestics had feasted in their turn, 
 were distributed among the shouting crowd, witli as many 
 barrels of ale as made the hilarity without correspond to that 
 within the castle. The gentlemen, according to the fashion 
 of the times, indulged, for the most part, in deep draughts of 
 the richest wines, while the ladies, prepared for the ball which 
 always closed a bridal entertainment, impatiently expected 
 their arrival in the state gallery. At length the social party 
 broke up at a late hour, and the gentlemen crowded into the 
 saloon, where, enlivened by wine and the joyful occasion, they 
 laid aside their swords and handed their impatient partners 
 to the floor. The music already rang from the gallery, along 
 the fretted roof of the ancient state apartment. According 
 to strict etiquette, the bride ought to have opened the ball : 
 but Lady Ashton, making an apology on account of her daugh- 
 ter's health, offered her own hand to Bucklaw as substitute 
 for her (laughter's. 
 
 But as Lady Ashton raised her head gracefully, expecting 
 the strain at which she was to begin the dance, she was so 
 much struck by an unexpected alteration in the ornaments 
 of the apartment that she was surprised into an exclamation — 
 ''Who has dared to change the pictures ?" 
 
 All looked uj), and those who knew the usual state of the 
 apartment observed, with surprise, that the picture of Sir 
 William Ashton's father was removed from its place, and in 
 its stead that of old Sir Malise Eavenswood seemed to frown 
 wrath and vengeance upon the party assembled below. The 
 exchange must have been made while the apartments were 
 empty, but had not been observed until the torches and lights 
 in the sconces were kindled for the ball. The haughty and 
 heated spirits of the gentlemen led them to demand an 
 immediate inquiry into the cause of what they deemed an 
 affront to their host and to themselves ; but Lady Ashton, 
 recovering herself, passed it over as the freak of a crazy 
 wench who was maintained about the castle, and whose sus- 
 ceptible imagination had been observed to be much affected 
 
294 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 by the stories which Dame Gourlay delighted to tell concern^ 
 ing " the former family/' so Lady Ashtou named the Ravens- 
 woods. The obnoxious picture was immediately removed, 
 and the ball was opened by Lady Ashton, with a grace and 
 dignity which supplied the charms of youth, and almost veri- 
 fied the extravagant encomiums of the elder part of the com- 
 pany, who extolled her performance as far exceeding the 
 dancing of the rising generation. 
 
 When Lady Ashton sat down, she was not surprised to 
 find that her daughter had left the apartment, and she her- 
 self followed, eager to obviate any impression which might 
 have been made upon her nerves by an incident so likely to 
 aiiaot them as the mysterious transposition of the portraits. 
 Apparently she found her apprehensions groundless, for she 
 returned in about an hour, and whispered the bridegroom, 
 who extricated himself from the dancers, and vanished from 
 the apartment. The instruments now played their loudest 
 strains ; the dancers pursued their exercise with all the 
 enthusiasm inspired by youth, mirth, and high spirits, when 
 a cry was heard so shrill and piercing as at once to arrest the 
 d.ince and the music. All stood motionless ; but when the 
 yell was again repeated. Colonel Ashton snatched a torch 
 from the sconce, and demanding the key of the bridal- 
 chanber from Henry, to whom, as bride's-man, it had been 
 intrusted, rushed thither, followed by Sir William and Lady 
 Ashton, and oue or two others, near relations of the family. 
 T;i3 bridal guests waited their return in stupefied amazement. 
 
 Arrived at the door of the apartment. Colonel Ashton 
 knocked and called, but received no answer except stifled 
 groans. He hesitated no longer to open the door of the 
 apartment, in which he found opposition from something 
 which l.iy against it. When he had succeeded in opening it, 
 the body of the bridegroom was found lying on the threshold 
 of the bridal chamber, and all around was flooded with blood. 
 ^A cry of surprise and horror was raised by all present ; and 
 the company, excited by this new alarm, began to rush tu- 
 multuously towards the sleeping apartment. Colonel Ashton, 
 first whispering to his mother — ''Search for her; she has 
 murdered him ! " drew his sword, planted himself in the 
 passage, and declared he would suffer no man to pass except- 
 ing the clergyman and a medical person present. By their 
 assistance, Bucklaw, who still breathed, was raised from the 
 ground, and transported to another apartment, where his 
 friends, full of suspicion and murmuring, assembled round 
 5iim to learn the opinion of the surgeon. 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR 395 
 
 In the mean while. Lady Ashtou, her liusband, and their 
 assistants in vain sought Lucy in the bridal bed and in the 
 chamber. There was no private passage from the room, and 
 they began to think that she must have thrown herself from 
 the window, when one of the company, holding his torch 
 lower than the rest, discovered something white in the corner 
 of the great old-fashioned chimney of the apartment. Here 
 they found the unfortunate girl seated, or rather couched like 
 a hare upon its form — her head-gear dishevelled, her night- 
 clothes torn and dabbled with blood, her eyes glazed, and her 
 features convulsed into a wild paroxysm of insanity. When 
 she saw herself discovered, she gibbered, made mouths, and 
 pointed at them with her bloody fingers, with the frantic ges- 
 tures of an exulting demoniac. 
 
 Female assistance was now hastily summoned ; the un- 
 happy bride was overpowered, not without the use of some 
 force. As they carried her over the threshold, she looked down, 
 and uttered the only articulate words that she had yet spoken, 
 saying, with a sort of grinning exultation — ' ' So, you have ta'en 
 up your bonny bridegroom ? " She was, by the shuddering 
 assistants, conveyed to another and more retired apartment, 
 where she was secured as her situation required, and closely 
 watched. The unutterable agony of the parents, the horror 
 and confusion of all who were in the castle, the fury of con- 
 tending passions between the friends of the different parties — 
 passions augmented by previous intemperance — surpass de- 
 scription. 
 
 The surgeon was the first who obtained something like a 
 patient hearing ; he pronounced that the wound of Bucklaw, 
 though severe and dangerous, was by no means fatal, but 
 might readily be rendered so by disturbance and hasty 
 removal. This silenced the numerous party of Bucklaw^s 
 friends, who had previously insisted that he should, at all 
 rates, be transported from the castle to the nearest of their 
 houses. They still demanded, however, that, in consideration 
 of what had happened, four of their number should remain to 
 watch over the sick-bed of their friend, and that a suitable 
 number of their domestics, well armed, should also remain in 
 the castle. This condition being acceded to on the part of 
 Colonel Ashton and his fatlier, the rest of the bridegroom's 
 friends left the castle, notwithstanding the hour and the 
 darkness of the night. The cares of the medical man were 
 next employed in behalf of Miss Ashton, whom he pronounced 
 to be in a very dangerous state. Farther medical assistance 
 was immediately summoned. All night she remained delirious. 
 
296 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 On the morning, she fell into a state of absolute insensibility. 
 The next evening, the physicians said, would be the crisis oi 
 her malady. It proved so ; for although she awoke from her 
 trance with some appearance of calmness, and suffered her 
 night-clothes to be changed, or put in order, yet so soon as she 
 put her hand to her neck, as if to search for the fatal blue 
 ribbon, a tide of recollection seemed to rush upon her, which 
 her mind and body were alike incapable of bearing. Con- 
 vulsion followed convulsion, till they closed in death, without 
 her being able to utter a word explanatory of the fatal scene. 
 
 The provincial judge of the district arrived the day after 
 the young lady had expired, and executed, though with all 
 possible delicacy to the afflicted family, the painful duty of 
 inquiring into this fatal transaction. But there occurred 
 nothing to explain the general hyj)othesis that the bride, in 
 a sudden fit of insanity, had stabbed the bridegroom at the 
 threshold of the apartment. The fatal weapon was found in 
 the chamber smeared with blood. It was the same poniard 
 which Henry should have worn on the wedding-day, and 
 which his unhappy sister had probably contrived to secrete on 
 the preceding evening, when it had been shown to her among 
 other articles of preparation for the wedding. 
 
 The friends of Bucklaw expected that on his recovery he 
 would throw some light upon this dark story, and eagerly 
 pressed him with inquiries, which for some time he evaded 
 under pretext of weakness. When, hoMever, he had been 
 transported to his own house, and was considered as in a state 
 of convalescence, he assembled those persons, both male and 
 female, who had considered themselves as entitled to press 
 him on this subject, and returned them thanks for the interest 
 they had exhibited in his behalf, and their offers of adher- 
 ence and support. "1 wish you all," he said, "my friends, 
 to understand, however, that I have neither story to tell nor 
 injuries to avenge. If a lady shall question me henceforward 
 upon the incidents of that unhappy night, I shall remain 
 silent, and in future consider her as one who has shown her- 
 self desirous to break off her friendship with me ; in a word, 
 I will never speak to her again. But if a gentleman shall ask 
 me the same question, I shall regard the incivility as equiva- 
 lent to an invitation to meet him in the Duke's Walk,* and I 
 expect that he will rule himself accordingly." 
 
 A declaration so decisive admitted no commentary ; and 
 it was soon after seen that Bucklaw had arisen from the bed 
 of sickness a sadder and a wiser man than he had hitherto 
 
 * See Note 12. 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR 297 
 
 shown himself. He dismissed Craigengelt from his society, 
 but not without such a provision as, if well employed, might 
 secure him against indigence and against temptation. 
 
 Buckiaw afterwards went abroad, and never returned to 
 Scotland ; nor was he known ever to hint at the circumstances 
 attending his fatal marriage. By many readers this may be 
 deemed overstrained, romantic, and composed by the wild 
 imagination of an author desirous of gratifying the popular 
 appetite for the horrible ; but those who are read in the pri- 
 vate family history of Scotland during the period in which 
 the scene is laid, will readily discover, through the disguise 
 of borrowed names and added incidents, the leading particu- 
 lars of AN OWER TRUE TALE. 
 
CHAPTER XXXV 
 
 Whose mind's so marbled, and his heart so hard. 
 
 That would not, when this huge mishap was heard, 
 
 To th' utmost note of sorrow set their song, 
 
 To see a gallant, with so great a grace, 
 
 So suddenly unthoughton, so o'erthrown, 
 
 And so to perish, in so poor a place. 
 
 By too rash riding in a ground unknown I 
 
 Poem, in Nisbet's Heraldry, vol. ii. 
 
 We have anticipated tlie course of time to mention Bucklaw^s 
 recovery and fate, that we might not interrupt the detail of 
 events which succeeded the funeral of the unfortunate Lucy 
 Ashton. This melancholy ceremony was performed in the 
 misty dawn of an autumnal morning, with such moderate at- 
 tendance and ceremony as could not possibly be dispensed with. 
 A very few of the nearest relations attended her body to the 
 same churchyard to whicli she had so lately been led as a 
 bride, with as little free will, perhaps, as could be now testi- 
 fied by her lifeless and passive remains. An aisle adjacent to 
 the church had been fitted up by Sir William Ashton as a 
 family cemetery ; and here, in a coffin bearing neither name 
 nor date, were consigned to dust the remains of what was 
 once lovely, beautiful, and innocent, though exasperated to 
 frenzy by a long tract of unremitting persecution. 
 
 While the mourners were busy in the vault, the three vil- 
 lage hags, who, notwithstanding the unwonted earliness of 
 the hour, had snuffed the carrion like vultures, were seated 
 on the " through-stane," and engaged in their wonted un- 
 hallowed conference. 
 
 " Did not I say," said Dame Gourlay, " that the braw bridal 
 would be followed by as braw a funeral ?" 
 
 " I think," answered Dame Winnie, '' there's little bravery 
 at it : neither meat nor drink, and just a wheen silver tip- 
 pences to the poor folk ; it was little worth while to come sae 
 far road for sae sma' profit, and us sae frail." 
 
 *' Out, wretch!" replied Dame Gourlay, "can 2! the 
 dainties they could gie us be half sae sweet as this hour's ven- 
 geance ? There they are that were capering on their prancing 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR 290 
 
 nags four days since, and they are now ganging as dreigh and 
 sober as oursells the day. They were a' glistening wi' gowd 
 ;ind silver ; they're now as black as the crook. And Miss 
 Lucy Ashton, that grudged when an honest woman came 
 near her — a taid may sit on her coffin the day, and she can 
 never scunner when he croaks. And Lady Ashton has hell- 
 fire burning in her breast by this time ; and Sir William, wi' 
 his gibbets, and his faggots, and his chains, how likes he the 
 witcheries of his ain dwelling-house ?" 
 
 " And is it true, then," mumbled the paralytic wretch, 
 " that the bride was trailed out of her bed and up the chim- 
 ley by evil spirits, and that the bridegroom's faco was wrung 
 round ahint him ? " 
 
 " Ye needna care wha did it, or how it was done," said 
 Ailsie Grourlay ; " but I'll upliauld it for nae stickit job, and 
 that the lairds and leddies ken weel this day." 
 
 '■^ And was it true," said Annie Winnie, "sin ye ken sae 
 muckle about it, that the picture of auld Sir Malise Eavens- 
 wood came down on the ha' floor, and led out the brawl be- 
 fore them a' ?" 
 
 " Na," said Ailsie ; " but into the ha^ came the picture — 
 and I ken weel how it came there — togiethem a warning that 
 pride wad get a fa'. But there's as queer a ploy, cummers, 
 as ony o' thae, that's gaun on even now in the burial vault 
 yonder : ye saw twall mourners, wi' crape and cloak, gang 
 down the steps pair and pair ? " 
 
 "What should ail us to see them ?" said the one old 
 woman. 
 
 "I counted them," said the other, with the eagerness of 
 a person to whom the spectacle had afforded too much interest 
 to be viewed with indifference. 
 
 " But ye did not see," said Ailsie, exulting in her superior 
 observation, "that there's a thirteenth amang them that they 
 ken naething about ; and, if auld freits say true, there's ane 
 o' tliat company that'll no be laug for this warld. But come 
 awa', cummers ; if we bide here, I'se warrant we get the 
 wyte o' whatever ill comes of it, and that gude will come of 
 it nane o' them need ever think to see." 
 
 And thus, croaking like the ravens when they anticipate 
 pestilence, the ill-boding sibyls withdrew from the church- 
 yard. 
 
 In fact, the mourners, when the service of interment was 
 ended, discovered tluifc there was auiong tliem one more than 
 the invited number, and the rein irk was communicated in 
 whispers to each other. The suspi(;iou fell upon a figure 
 
300 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 which, muffled in the same deep mourning with the others, 
 was reclined, almost in a state of insensibility, against one of 
 the pillars of the sepulchral vault. The relatives of the Asliton 
 family were expressing in whispers their surjjrise and dis- 
 pleasure at the intrusion, when they were interrupted by Col- 
 onel Ashton, who, in his father's absence, acted as principal 
 mourner. "I know," he said in a whisper, "who this person 
 is ; he has, or shall soon have, as deep cause of mourning as 
 ourselves ; leave me to deal with him, and do not disturb the 
 ceremony by unnecessary exposure." So saying, he sepa- 
 rated himself from the group of his relations, and taking tho 
 unknown mourner by the cloak, he said to him, in a tone of 
 suppressed emotion, "Follow me." 
 
 The stranger, as if starting from a trance at the sound of 
 his voice, mechanically obeyed, and they ascended the broken 
 ruinous stair which led from the sepulchre into the church- 
 yard. The other mourners followed, but remained grouped 
 together at the door of the vault, watching with anxiety the 
 motions of Colonel Ashton and the stranger, who now ap- 
 peared to be in close conference beneath the shade of a yew- 
 tree, in the most remote part of the burial-ground. 
 
 To this sequestered spot Colonel Ashton had guided the 
 stranger, and then turning round, addressed him in a stern 
 and composed tone. "I cannot doubt that I speak to the 
 Master of Ravenswood ? " No answer was returned. "• I can- 
 not doubt," resumed the Colonel, trembling with rising pas- 
 sion, "that I speak to the murderer of my sister ?" 
 
 "You have named me but too truly," said Eavenswood. 
 in a hollow and tremulous voice. 
 
 " If you repent what you have done," said the Colonel, 
 ''may your penitence avail you before God ; with me it shall 
 serve you nothing. Here," he said, giving a paper, "is the 
 measure of my sword, and a memorandum of the time and 
 place of meeting. Sunrise to-morrow morning, on the links 
 to the east of Wolf's Hope." 
 
 The Master of Eavenswood held the paper in his hand, 
 and seemed irresolute. At length he spoke — "Do not," he 
 said, "urge to farther desperation a wretch who is already 
 desperate. Enjoy your life while you can, and let me seek 
 ray death from another." 
 
 "That you never, never shall I" said Douglas Ashton. 
 " You shall die by my hand, or you shall complete the ruin 
 of my family by taking my life. If you refuse my open 
 challenge, there is no advantage I will not take of you, no 
 indignity with which I will not load you, until the very name 
 
THE BRIDE Ob' hAMMEHMOOR 3U1 
 
 of Kavenswood shall be the sign of everything that is dis- 
 honorable, as it is already of all that is villanous." 
 
 •' That it shall never be," said Kavenswood, fiercely ; '' if 
 1 am the last who mnst bear it, I owe it to those who once 
 owned it that the name shall be extinguished without infamy. 
 I accept your challenge, time, and place of meeting. We 
 meet, I presume, alone ? " 
 
 ''Alone we meet," said Colonel Ashton, '' and alone will 
 the survivor of us return from that place of rendezvous." 
 
 " Then God have mercy on the soul of him who falls !" 
 said Eavenswood. 
 
 '' So be it ! " said Colonel Ashton ; '' so far can my charity 
 reach even for the man I hate most deadly, and with the 
 deepest reason. Now, break off, for we shall be interrupted. 
 The links by the sea-shore to the east of Wolf's Hope ; the 
 hour, sunrise ; our swords our only weapons." 
 
 '•Enough," said the Master, " I Avill not fail you." 
 
 They separated ; Colonel Ashton joining the rest of the 
 mourners, and the Master of Eavenswood taking his horse, 
 wliicli was tied to a tree behind the church. Colonel Ashton 
 returned to the castle with the funeral guests, but found a 
 pretext for detaching himself from them in the evening, 
 when, changing his dress to a riding-habit, he rode to Wolf's 
 Hope that night, and took up his abode in the little inn, 
 in order tliat he might be ready for his rendezvous in the 
 morning. 
 
 It is not known how the Master of Eavenswood disposed 
 of the rest of that unhappy day. Late at night, however, he 
 arrived at Wolf's Crag, and aroused his old domestic, Caleb 
 Balderstone, who had ceased to expect his return. Confused 
 and flying rumors of the late tragical death of Miss Ashton, 
 and of its mysterious cause, had already reached the old man, 
 who was filled with the utmost anxiety, on account of the 
 probable effect these events might produce upon the mind of 
 his master. 
 
 The conduct of Eavenswood did not alleviate his appre- 
 hensions. To the butler's trembling entreaties that he would 
 take some refreshment, he at first returned no answer, and 
 then suddenly and fiercely demanding wine, he drank, con- 
 trary to his habits, a very large draught. Seeing that his 
 master would eat nothing, the old man affectionately en- 
 treated that he would permit him to light him to his 
 chamber. It Avas not until the request was three or four 
 times repeated that Eavenswood made a mute sign of compli- 
 ance. But when Balderstone conducted him to an apartment 
 
302 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 which had been comfortably fitted up, and which, since his 
 return, he had usually occupied, Kavenswood stopped short 
 on the threshold. 
 
 "Not here," said he, sternly; "show me the room in 
 which my father died ; the room in which she slept the night 
 they were at the castle." 
 
 "Who, sir?" said Caleb, too terrified to preserve his 
 presence of mind. 
 
 " She, Lucy Asliton ! Would you kill me, old man, by 
 forcing me to repeat her name ? " 
 
 Caleb would have said something of the disrepair of the 
 chamber, but was silenced by the irritable impatience 
 which was expressed in his master's countenance ; he 
 lighted the way trembling and in silence, placed the lamp on 
 the table of the deserted room, and was about to attempt some 
 arrangement of the bed, when his master bid him begone in a 
 tone that admitted of no delay. The old man retired, not to 
 rest, but to prayer ; and from time to time crept to the door 
 of the apartment, in order to find out whether Eavenswood 
 had gone to repose. His measured heavy step upon the floor 
 was only interrupted by deep groans ; and the repeated 
 stamps of the heel of his heavy boot intimated too clearly that 
 the wretched inmate was abandoning himself at such moments 
 to paroxysms of uncontrolled agony. The old man thought 
 that the morning, for which he longed, would never have 
 dawned ; but time, whose course rolls on with equal current, 
 however it may seem more rapid or more slow to mortal appre- 
 hension, brought the dawn at last, and spread a ruddy light 
 on the broad verge of the glistening ocean. It was early in 
 November, and the weather was serene for the season of the 
 year. But an easterly wind had prevailed during the night, 
 and the advancing tide rolled nearer than usual to the foot of 
 the crags on which the castle was founded. 
 
 With the first peep of light, Balderstone again resorted to 
 the door of Ravenswood's sleeping apartment, through a chink 
 of which he observed him engaged in measuring the length of 
 two or three swords which lay in a closet adjoining to the 
 apartment. He muttered to himself, as he selected one of 
 these weapons — "It is shorter : let him have this advantage, 
 as he has every other." 
 
 Caleb Balderstone knew too well, from what he witnessed, 
 upon what enterprise his master was bound, and how vain all 
 interference on his part must necessarily prove. He had but 
 time to retreat from the door, so nearly was he surprised by 
 bis master suddenly coming out and descending to the 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR 308 
 
 stables. The faithful domestic followed ; and, from the dis- 
 hevelled appearance of his master's dress, and his ghastly 
 looks, was confirmed in his conjecture that he had passed 
 the night without sleep or repose. He found him busily en- 
 gaged in saddling his horse, a service from which Caleb, 
 though with faltering voice and trembling hands, offered to 
 relieve him. Ravenswood rejected his assistance by a mute 
 sign, and having led the animal into the court, was just ' 
 about to mount him, when the old domestic's fear giving 
 way to the strong attachment which was the principal passion 
 of his mind, he flung himself suddenly at Eavenswood's feet, 
 and clasped his knees, while he exclaimed, " Oh, sir ! oh, 
 master ! kill me if you will, but do not go out on this dread- 
 ful errand ! Oh ! my dear master, wait but this day ; 
 the Marquis of A comes to-morrow, and a' will be reme- 
 died." 
 
 *' You have no longer a master, Caleb," said Eavenswood, 
 endeavoring to extricate himself ; " why, old man^ would 
 you cling to a falling tower ?" 
 
 " But I luive a master," cried Caleb, still holding him 
 fast, " while the heir of Eavenswood breathes. I am but a 
 servant ; but I was born your father's — your grandfather's 
 servant. I was born for the family — I have lived for them — 
 I would die for them ! Stay but at home, and all will be 
 well!" 
 
 " Well, fool ! well ? " said Eavenswood. ^^ Vain old man, 
 nothing hereafter in life will be well with me, and happiest 
 is the hour that shall soonest close it ! " 
 
 So saying, he extricated himself from the old man's hold, 
 threw himself on his horse, and rode out at the gate ; but in- 
 stantly turning back, he threw towards Caleb, who hastened 
 to meet him, a heavy purse of gold. 
 
 *' Caleb !" he said, with a ghastly smile, "1 make yon 
 my executor ; " and again turning his bridle, he resumed 
 his course down the hill. 
 
 The gold fell unheeded on the pavement, for the old man 
 ran to observe the course which was taken by his master, who 
 turned to the left down a small and broken path, which 
 gained the sea-shore through a cleft in the rock, and led to 
 a sort of cove where, in former times, the boats of the castle 
 were wont to be moored. Observing him take this course, 
 Caleb hastened to the eastern battlement, which commanded 
 the prospect of the whole sands, very near as far as Wolf's 
 Hope. He could easily see his master riding in that direc- 
 tion, as fast as the horse could carry him. The prophecy at 
 
804 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 once rushed on Balderstone's mind, that the Lord of Ravens- 
 wood should perish on the Kelpie's flow, which lay half-way 
 betwixt the Tower and the links, or sand knolls, to the north- 
 ward of Wolf's Hope. He saw him accordingly reach the 
 fatal spot ; but he never saw him pass farther. 
 
 Colonel Ashton, frantic for revenge, was already in the 
 field, pacing the turf with eagerness, and looking with im- 
 patience towards the Tower for the arrival of his antagonist. 
 The sun had now risen, and showed its broad disc above the 
 eastern sea, so that he could easily discern the horseman who 
 rode towards him with speed which argued impatience equal 
 to his own. At once the figure became invisible, as if it had 
 melted into the air. He rubbed his eyes, as if he had wit- 
 nessed an apparition, and then hastened to the spot, near 
 which he was met by Balderstone, who came from the oppo- 
 site direction. Ko trace whatever of horse or rider could be 
 discerned ; it only appeared that the late winds and high 
 tides had greatly extended the usual bounds of the quick- 
 sand, and that the unfortunate horseman, as appeared from 
 the hoof-tracks, in his precipitate haste, had not attended to 
 keep on the firm sands on the foot of the rock, but had taken 
 the shortest and most dangerous course. One only vestige of 
 his fate appeared. A large sable feather had been detached 
 from his hat, and the rippling waves of the rising tide wafted 
 it to Caleb's feet. The old man took it up, dried it, and 
 placed it in his bosom. 
 
 The inhabitants of Wolf's Hope were now alarmed, and 
 crowded to the place, some on shore, and some in boats, but 
 their search availed nothing. The tenacious depths of the 
 quicksand, as is usual in such cases, retained its prey. 
 
 Our tale draws to a conclusion. The Marquis of A , 
 
 alarmed at the frightful reports that were current, and anxious 
 for his kinsman's safety, arrived on the subsequent day to 
 mourn his loss ; and, after renewing in vain a search for the 
 body, returned, to forget what had happened amid the bustle 
 of politics and state affairs. 
 
 Not so Caleb Balderstone. If worldly profit could have 
 consoled the old man, his age was better provided for than 
 his earlier years had ever been ; but life had lost to him its 
 salt and its savor. His whole course of ideas, his feelings, 
 whether of pride or of apprehension, of jjleasure or of pain, 
 had all arisen from his close connection with the family which 
 was now extinguished. He held up his head no longer, for 
 
THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR 305 
 
 Book all his usual haunts and occupations, and seemed only to 
 find pleasure in moping about those apartments in the old 
 castle which the Master of Kavenswood had last inhabited. 
 He ate without refreshment, and slumbered without repose ; 
 and, with a fidelity sometimes displayed by the canine race, 
 but seldom by human beings, he pined and died within a year 
 after the catastrophe which we have narrated. 
 
 The family of Ashton did not long survive that of Eavens- 
 wood. Sir William Ashton outlived his eldest son, the Col- 
 onel, who was slain in a duel in Flanders ; and Henry, by 
 whom he was succeeded, died unmarried. Lady Ashton lived 
 to the verge of extreme old age, the only survivor of the 
 group of unhappy persons whose misfortunes were owing to 
 her implacability. That she might internally feel compunc- 
 tion, and reconcile herself with Heaven, whom she had offended, 
 we will not, and we dare not, deny ; but to those around her she 
 did not evince the slightest symptom either of repentance or 
 remorse. In all external appearance she bore the same bold, 
 haughty, unbending character which she had displayed before 
 these unhappy events. A splendid marble monument records 
 her name, titles, and virtues, while her victims remain undis- 
 tinguished by tomb or epitaph. 
 
NOTEJS TO THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR 
 
 NOTE L— THE FAMILY OP STAIR, p. Ix 
 
 [It may be regretved that the Author had not adhered to his original 
 purpose Sls here staited. In his Introducition to the Chronicles of the 
 Canong-ate, when referring to the sources or materials of his novels, 
 he says, "I may mention, for example's sake, that 'the terrible ca:cas- 
 trophe of the Bride of Lammeimoor actually occurred in a Scottish 
 family of rank. ... It is unnecessary faifther to withdraw the 
 real veil fi-om this scene of famiiy distress, nor, although it occurred 
 more than a hundred yea.rs since, might it be altogether agreeable 
 to the representatives of the families concerned in the narrative. It 
 may be proper to say, thait the events are imitated; but I had neither 
 the means nor intention of copying the mianners, or tracing- the char- 
 acters, of the persons concerned in the real story." 
 
 The regret, however, is not in his stating that the tragical event 
 said to have happened in the family of Dalrymple of Stair in 1669 had 
 suggested the catastrophe, but in seemingly connecting the story it- 
 self with the history of 'that 'family, by quoting so fully the scandal 
 and satirical verses of a later period. — L»aing.] 
 
 NOTE 2.— SIR G. LOCKHART, p. 37 
 
 President of the Court of IC-ession. He wa;s pistolled in the Hi^h 
 Street of Edinburgh, by John Caiesley of Dailry, in the year 1689. The 
 revenge of this desperate man *,'as stimulated by an opinion that he 
 had sustained injustice in a decreet-arbitral pronounced by the 
 President, a^si.gni'ng an alimentary provision of about £93 in favor of 
 his wife and children. He is said at first to have designed to shoot 
 the judge while attending upon divine worship, but was diverted by 
 some feeling concernin'g the sanctity of the. pla/ce. After the congre- 
 giation was dismissied. he c'ogged his victim as far as the head of the 
 close, on the south side of the Lawnm'arkeit, in which the President's 
 house was situated, and shot him dead as he was about to enter it. 
 This act was done in the presence of numlerous spectators. The as- 
 sassin made no attempt to fly, but boasted of the deed, saying, "I have 
 taught the President haw to do justice." He had at least given him 
 fair warning, as Jack Cade says on a similar occasion. The mur- 
 derer, after undergoing the torture, by a special act of the Esitates 
 of Parliament, was tried before the Lord Provost of Edinburgh, as 
 high sheriff, and condemned to be dragged on a hurdle to the place of 
 execution, to have his right hand struck off while he yet lived, and, 
 finally, to be hung on the gallows with the pistoi wherewth he shot 
 the President tied around his neck. This execution took p'lace on the 
 3d of April, 1689; and the incident was long remembered as a dreadful 
 instance of what the law books call the perfervldum ingenium Scoto- 
 rum. 
 
 307 
 
808 WAVERLET IfOVBLS 
 
 NOTE 3.— THE BALLiANTYNEJS, p. 79 
 
 James Ballantyne, the eminent printer, was the eldest of three 
 sons of a small merchant in Kelso. He was born in 1772, and became 
 acquainted with Sir Walter Scott so early as 1784, when attending 
 the grammar school. Having established a printing office, he started 
 a local newspaper, called the Kelso Mail; and in 1799 there issued 
 from his press Scott's Apology for Tales of Terror, of which only 
 twelve copies were thrown off. This was followed by the first edi- 
 tion of the Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border in 1802, a work that 
 was considered such an admirable specimen of typography that Bal- 
 lantyne was induced to remove to Edinburgh, where for thirty years 
 he carried on a printing establi.shment with great success, leaving 
 his younger brother Alexander at Kelso to look after the news- 
 paper. 
 
 John Ballantyne, the second son, was born in 1774. He com- 
 menced Ms career at Kelso, in September, 1813, by the sale of that 
 portion of the celebrated library of John Duke of Roxburghe which 
 remained at Fleurs Castle. On coming to Edinburgh, he was for a 
 time connected with the printing office; but afterwards turned auc- 
 tioneer and bookseller, and became the puhlisher of several of Scott's 
 Poems and Novels. "Jocund Johnny," as Scott sometimes called 
 him, was a person of volatile and joyous disposition, a most amusing 
 companion, having the credit of being the best story-teller of his 
 time. The state of his health, 'however, obliged him to relinquish 
 business, and he died 16th June, 1821. 
 
 James, who devoted much of his time to theatrical criticism and 
 journalism, died within four months of Sir Walter Scott, in January. 
 1833. He assisted the Author Of these novels In revising the proof 
 sheets and suggested, minute corrections (IJaing). 
 
 NOTE 4.— GEORGE BUCHANAN'S JESTS, p. 107 
 
 Referring probably to a popular chap-book, entitled The Witty 
 and Entertaining Exploits of George Buchanan, who was commonly 
 called the King's Fool; the whole six parts complete, 1781. This 
 character -was jester to Charles I., and must not be mistaken for his 
 learned namesake (Laing). 
 
 NOTE 6.— RAID OF CALEB BALiDERSTONE. p. 128 
 
 The raid of Caleb Balderstone on the cooper's kitchen has been uni- 
 versally considered on 'the southern side of the Tweed as grotesquely 
 and absurdly extravagant. The Author oan only say that a similar 
 anecdote was communicated to him, with date and names of the 
 parties, by a noble earl lately deceased, whose remembrances of for- 
 mer days, both in Scotland and England, while they were given with 
 a felicity and ijower of humor never to be forgotten by those who had 
 the happiness of meeting his lordship in familiar society, were es- 
 pecially invaltiable from their extreme accuracy. 
 
 Speaking after my kind and lamented informer, 'with the omission 
 of names only, the anecdote ran thus: There was a certain baeheilor 
 gentleman in one of the midland counties lof Scotland, second son of 
 an amcienit family, who lived on the fortune of a second son, videlicet, 
 upon some miserably small annuity, •which yet was sio managed and 
 stretched out by the expedients of his man J'ohn that his master kept 
 the front rank with all the young men of quality in the county, and 
 hunted, dined, diced and drartk with them upon apparently equal 
 terms. 
 
 It is true that, as the master's society was extremely amusing, his 
 friends contrived to reconcile his man John to accept assistance of 
 various kinds "under the rose," which they dared not to have directly 
 offered to hie master. Yet, very consistently with aU this good incli- 
 nation tio John and John's master, it was thought among the young 
 fox-ihunteirs that 'it would be an excellent jest, if possible, to take 
 John at fiault. 
 
 With thiis Intention, and, I think. In consequence of a bet, a partj- 
 of four or five of these youngsters arrived at the bachelor's little 
 
NOTES 309 
 
 mansion, whloh was adjacent to a considerable village. Here they 
 alighted a short while before the dinner hour— for it was judged 
 regular to give John's ingenuity a fair start — and, rushing past 
 the astonished dornesJtic, entered the little parlor; and, telling some 
 concerted story of the cause of their invasion, the self-invited guests 
 asked their landlord if he could let them have some dinner. Their 
 friend gave them a hearty and unembarrassed reception, and, for 
 the matter of dinner, referred ithem to John. He was summoned 
 accordingly; received his master's orders to get dinner ready for Che 
 party who had thus unexpectedly arrived, and, without changing a 
 muscle of his countenance, promised prompt obedience. Great was 
 the speculation of the visitors, and probably of the landlord els'o. 
 What was to be the Issue of John's fair promises. Some of the 
 more curious had taken a peep into the kitchen, and could see noth- 
 ing there to realize the prospect held out by the major-domo. But, 
 punctual as the dinner-hour struck on the village cvock, John 
 placed before them a stately rump of boiled beef, with a proper 
 accompaniment of greens, amply sufficient to dine the whole party 
 and to decide the bet against those among the visitors who expected 
 to take John napping. The explanation was the same as in the 
 case of Caleb Balderstone. John had used the freedom to carry off 
 the kale-pot of a rich old chuff in the Village and brought it to his 
 master's house, leaving the proprietor and his friends to dine on 
 bread and cheese; and as John said, "good enough for them." The 
 fear of giviner offense to so may persons of distinction kept the 
 poor man sufficiently quiet, and he was afterward remunerated by 
 some indirect patronage, so that the jest was admitted a good one 
 on all sides. In England, at any period, or in some parts of Scot- 
 land at the present day, It might not Ihave passed off so well. 
 
 NOTE 6.— ANCIENT HOSPITAUTY, p. 132 
 
 It wag once the universal custom to place ale, wine or some strong 
 liquor in the chamber of an honored guest ito assuage his thirst should 
 he 'feel any on awakening in the night, which, considering that the 
 hospitality of that period often reaches excess, was by no means un- 
 likely. The author has met some Instances of it in farmer days and 
 in old-fashioned families. It was, perhaps, no poetic fiction thait 
 records how 
 
 My cummer and I lay down to sleep 
 
 With two pint-stoups at our bed-feet; 
 
 And aye wh€n we waken'd we idrank them dry 
 
 What think you o' my cumaner and I? 
 
 It Is a current story in Teviotdale that in the house of an ancient 
 family of di'Stinction, much addicted to the Presbyterian ca.use a 
 Bible was always put into the sleeping apartment of the guests, along 
 with a bottle of strong ale. On some occasion there was a meeting 
 of clergymen in the vicinity of the castle, all of whom were invited 
 to dinner by the worthy baronet, and several abode all night. Accoird- 
 Ing to the fashion of the times, seven of the reverend guests were al- 
 lotted to one large barrack-room, which was used on such occasions 
 of extended hospitality. The butler took care that the divines were 
 presented, according to custom, each with a Bible and a bottle of ale. 
 But after a little consultation among themselves they are said to 
 have recalled the domestic as he was leaving the apartment. "My 
 friend," said one of the venerable guests, "you must know 'when we 
 meet together as brethren the youngest minister reads aloud a portion 
 of Scripture to the rest; only one Bible, therefore, is necessary; take 
 away the other six and in their place bring six more bottles of ale." 
 
 This synod would have suited the "'hermit sage" of Johnson, who 
 answered a pupil who inquired for the real road to happiness with 
 the celebrated line, 
 
 Oome, my lad, and drink eom'e beer! 
 
 NOTE 7.— APPEIAL. TO PARLIAMENT, p. 148 
 
 The power of appeal from the Court of Sessions, the supremtr 
 Judges of Scotland, to the Scottish Parliament, in case of civil right. 
 
310 WAYERLEY NOVELS 
 
 was fiercely debated before the Union. It was a privilege highly de- 
 sirable for the subject, as the exam. nation and occasional reversa.1 
 of their sentences in Parliament might serve as a check upon the 
 Judges, -which uiey greatly required at a time when they were much 
 more d;suxii;iushecl tor legal knowledge than for uprightness and in- 
 tegrity. 
 
 The members of the Faculty of Advocates (so the Scottish barris- 
 ters are termed), in the year 1674, incurred the violent displeasure of 
 the Court of Sessions, on account of their refusal to renounce the 
 right of appeal to Parliament; and, by a very arbitrary procedure, 
 the majority of the number were banished from Edmburgh, and con- 
 sequently deprived of their professional practice, for several sessions 
 or terms. But, by the articles of the Union, an appeal to the British 
 House of Peers has been secured to the Scottish subject, and that 
 right ihas, no doubt, had its Influence in forming the impartial and 
 independent character which, much contrary to the practice of their 
 predecessors, 'the Judges of the Court of Session have since dis- 
 played. 
 
 It Is easy to conceive that an old lawyer like the Lord Keeper in 
 the text should feel alarm at the judgments given in his favor, upon 
 grounds of strict penal law, being brought to appeal under a new and 
 dreaded procedure in a court eminently impartial, and peculiarly 
 moved bv considerations of equity. 
 
 In earlier editions of this work [before 1829-33] this legal distinc- 
 tion was not sufficiently explained.. 
 
 NOTE 8.— POOR-MAN-OF-MUTTON, p. 168 
 
 The blade-bone of a shoulder of mutton is called in Scotland "a 
 poor man," as in some parts of England it is termed "a poor knight 
 of Windsor;" in contrast, it must be presumed, to the baronial Sir 
 Doin. It is said that, in the last age, an old Scottisih peer, whose 
 conditions (none of the most gentle) were marked by a a strange 
 and fierce-looking exaggeration of the Highland countenance, chanced 
 to be indisposed while he was in London attending Parliament. The 
 master of the hotel where he lodged, anxious to show attentton to 
 his noble guest, waited on him to enumerate the contents of his 
 well-stocked larder, so as to endeavor to hit on something which 
 might suit his appetite. "I think, landlord," said his lordship, rising 
 up from his couch, and throwing back the tartan plaid with which 
 he had screened his grim and ferocious visage— "I thlnK I could eat 
 a morsel of a poor man." The landlord fled in terror, having no 
 doubt that his guest was a cannibal, who might be in the habit of 
 eating a slice of a tenant as light food when he was under regimen. 
 
 NOTE 9.— MIDDLETON'S "MAD WORLD," p. 199 
 
 Hereupon I, Jedediiah Cleishbotham, crave leave to remark prime, 
 wnich signifies, in the first place that, having in vain inquired at the 
 circulating library in Gandercleugh, albeit it aboundeth in similar 
 vanities, for this samyn Middleton and his "Mad World," it was at 
 length shown unto me amongst other ancient fooleries carefully 
 compiled by one Dodsley,* who, doubtless, hath h*s reward for neglect 
 of precious time; and having misused so much of mine as was neces- 
 sary for the purpose, I therein found that a play-man is brought in 
 as a footman, whom a knight is made to greet facetiously with the 
 epithet of "linen stocking, and threescore miles a-day." 
 
 Secundo, which is secondly in the vernacular, under Mr. Pattie- 
 son's favour, some men not altogether so old as he would represent 
 them, do remember this species of menial, or forerunner. In evidence 
 of which I, Jedediaih Cleishbotham, though mine eyes yet do me good, 
 service, remember me to have seen one of this 'tribe clothed in white, 
 and bearing a staff, who ran daily before the stage-coach of the 
 umquhile John Earl of Hopeton, father of this earl, Charles, that 
 now is; unto whom, it may be justly said, that renown playeth the 
 part of a running footman, or precursor; and, as the poet singeth — 
 
 Mars standing by asserts his quarrel. 
 
 And Fame flies after with a laurel. 
 
 •See Dodsley's Collection of Old Plays, vol. v., p. 307 (Laing). 
 
NOTES 811 
 
 NOTE 10.— TRUMPETER MARINE AT SHERIPFMUIR, p. 223 
 
 The battle of Sheriffmuir, which took place in November, 1715, 
 was elaiimed as a victory by tioth sides. This gave rise to a clever 
 popular song printed at the time as a broadside, under the title of 
 A Race at Sheriffmuir, fairly run on the 15th November, 1715, to the 
 tune of "The Horseman's Sport." 
 
 There's some say that we wan, some say that they w&n. 
 Some say that nane wan at a', man: 
 But one thing I'm sure, that at Sheriffmuir 
 A battle there was, which I saw, man. 
 
 And we ran, and they ran, and they ran, and we ran. 
 And we ran, and they ran awa', man. 
 
 In these satirical verses Trumpeter Marine Is introduced, and In 
 proof of Sir Walter's accuracy as to the name, the following note 
 may be added, as recent editors of tois ballad have altered it to 
 Maclean: 
 
 In the Present State of Great Britain, London, 1710, Francis 
 Marine is second on the list of Queen Anne's Trumpeters for Scot- 
 land, while in the volume for 1716 his name occurs among 'the officers 
 of the king's household, as "Francis Marine, Sen.," and there is 
 added as fifth trumpeter, "Francis Marine, Jun." These household 
 trumpeters were employed, as they are to this day in the Lyon OfHce, 
 for announcing royal pro'elamatrons, and attending the Circuit Courts 
 Qif Justiciary. Another son or grandson, named James Marine, con- 
 tinues to appear as trumpeter down to 1785. 
 
 The words referred to, in the original ballad of Sheriffmuir, are 
 ais follow: 
 
 Aud Trumpet Marine too, whose breeks were not Clean, througb 
 
 Misfortune he happen'd to fa', man: 
 
 By saving his neck, his trumpet did break, 
 
 Came off without musiek at a', man. 
 
 And we ran, and they ran, etc. 
 
 'No doubt there was a John Maclean, 'trumpeter, sent on a message 
 (from the rebels to the Duke of Argyle before the 'battle, but the 
 modern improvers have spoiled the verses both as to ryhme and ac- 
 curacy; while they have overlooked the description of the trumpet- 
 er's dress, which would evidently indicate hda not being a Highlander 
 (Laing). 
 
 NOTE IL— CITRING BY CHARMS, p. 291 
 
 Reginald Scott tells of an old woman who performed so many 
 cures by means of a charmi that she was suspected of witchcraft. 
 Her mode of practice beiing inquired Into, it was found that the only 
 fee which she would a'ocepit of was a loaf of bread and a silver 
 penny; and that the potent charm wdth which she wrought so many 
 cures was the doggerel couplet in the text. 
 
 NOTE 12.— DUKE'S WALK, p. 296 
 
 A walk In the vicinity of Holyrood House, so-called because often 
 frequented by the Duke of York, arfterwards James II., during bis 
 residence in Scotland. It was for a long time the usual place of 
 rendezvous tor settlings affairs of honor. 
 
GLOSSARY 
 
 01* 
 
 WORDS, PHRASES AND ALLUSIONS 
 
 ABEE, alone 
 
 ABOON. ABUNB, above, 
 
 AEDBEZE, in a blaze 
 up 
 
 ABOU HASSAN. See The 
 Arabian Nights: "The 
 Sleeper Awakened" 
 
 ADJUDICATION, an ac- 
 tion for seizing upon a 
 heritable estate as se- 
 curity tor a debt — a 
 Scots law term 
 
 AD RE - ABDIFIOANDAM 
 (p. 91), to set up an an- 
 cient house again 
 
 AE, one 
 
 AGE, to act as may be 
 necessary and legal — a 
 Scots law term 
 AIL. to interfere with, 
 prevent 
 
 AIN, own 
 
 AIRT, to direct, turn; a 
 point 
 
 AITS, oats; AIT-CAKE, 
 oat-cake 
 
 AIVBR, or AVER, an old 
 broken-winded horse 
 
 ALEXANDER, a tragedy 
 by Nathaniel Lee, very 
 popular in the early part 
 of the 18th century 
 
 ALLBNARLY, Solely, 
 alone 
 
 ANCE, once 
 
 ANDREW FER'RATIA, a 
 Highland broadsword 
 
 ANGUS, ELVRL OF, pre- 
 sumably Archibald, si.xth 
 earl, exiled by James V. 
 in 1528 
 
 AROINT, avaunt 
 
 ASS, ash 
 
 AULD REEKIE, Edin- 
 burgh 
 
 AVA, at all 
 
 AWE, to owe 
 
 AVANT-COURIBR. a fore- 
 runner, messenger sent 
 on in advance 
 
 BAOK-SBY, the sirloin 
 BACKSWORD, a aword 
 
 with only one cutting 
 edge 
 
 BARD OF HOPE, Thomas 
 Campbell, author of 
 Pleasures of Hope 
 
 BASS, a conspicuous mass 
 of rock in the Firth ot 
 Forth, not far from 
 North Berwick 
 
 BAWBEE, a halfpenny 
 
 BEDESMAN, an alms- 
 man, one that prays for 
 another 
 
 BEBRAL, a beadle, sex- 
 ton 
 
 BEFLUMM, to befool, ca- 
 jole 
 
 BELL THE CAT, synony- 
 mous with "Beard the 
 lion In his den." The 
 phrase originated among 
 the Scottish nobles who 
 conspired to ruin James 
 III.'s favorite, Cochran. 
 See Scott's Tales of a 
 Grandfather, chap. ixii. 
 
 BBNDEnj, cocked 
 
 BEND-LEATHER, thick 
 leather for boot soles 
 
 BERIWIOK. • DUKE OF, 
 James ITitz-James, the 
 natural son King James 
 II. of England, was 
 made a marshal ot 
 France 
 
 BICKER, a wooden drlnk- 
 ing-cup 
 
 BICKERING (FIRE) flick- 
 ering, quivering 
 
 BIDE, to wait, stay 
 
 BIGGONET, a linen cap, 
 cotf 
 
 BIRKIB, a lively little 
 fellow; the game of beg- 
 gar-my-neighbor 
 
 BIRLING, drinking in 
 company 
 
 BIT AND THE BUFFET, 
 sustenance with hard us- 
 age 
 
 BLACK.A.VISED, black- 
 visaged 
 
 3^3 
 
 BLACK-JACK, a largu 
 waxed pitcher for hold- 
 ing ale 
 
 BLACKNESS, a castle, 
 and formerly a state 
 prison, situated on the 
 Firth of Forth, Linlith- 
 gowshire 
 
 BLITHE, cheerful, happy, 
 pleased 
 
 BOGLE, a bogle, ghost 
 
 •BOTHWEUL BRIG. See 
 Old Mortality, chaps, 
 xxxl. and xxxil. 
 
 BOUK, a body, carcass, 
 bulk of body 
 
 BOUL, a handle 
 
 BOUROCK, a mound, bar- 
 row, heap of earth; a 
 miserable hut 
 
 BRACH, a huntingshound 
 
 BRAE, a hill; BRAESIDB, 
 a hillside 
 
 BRANDER, to broil, grill 
 
 BRAW, brave, fine 
 
 BRAWL, a French dance, 
 cotillion 
 
 BRENT, straight and 
 smooth 
 
 BREWIS, the scum 
 caused by boiling 
 
 BREWSTER, a brewer 
 BRIDE IN, taken to the 
 bridal chamber 
 
 BROCHE, a roastlng-splt 
 
 BIRUOE TO KILL A SPI- 
 DER, an allusion to tha 
 story of Robert Bruca 
 and the spider 
 
 BUSK, to deck, bind up 
 
 CABAGE, to cut off a 
 deer's head behind the 
 horns 
 
 C-^BRACH, or BUCK OP 
 CABRACH, a mountain 
 near the western bound- 
 ary of Aberdeenshire 
 
 CADGY, cheerful, sportive 
 
 CAICKLING, cackling, 
 
 laughing 
 
514 
 
 WAVSJRLST NOVELS 
 
 GALLANT, a young lad 
 
 CAMPAIGN OF . See 
 
 Spanish generals 
 
 CAMPVERE, or CAMP- 
 HIRE, a small Dutch 
 town on the island of 
 Walcheren, where from 
 1444 to 1795 the Scots 
 had a privileged trad- 
 ing factory 
 
 CANNON-BIT, a smooth 
 round bit for horses 
 
 CANNY, careful, shrewd, 
 useful; (in the nega- 
 tive) peculiar, pos- 
 
 CANTABIT VACUUS, he 
 may sing before thieves 
 who has empty pockets 
 — Juvenal xi., 22 
 
 CANTRIPSJrlcks, spells, 
 incantations 
 
 CANTY, cheerful, merry 
 
 CAPOT, to win all the 
 tricks in plcquet, a 
 form of exclamation 
 
 CARBONADE, to broil, 
 
 . grill 
 
 CARCAKE, a small cake 
 eaten on Shrove Tues- 
 day 
 
 CARLE, a fellow 
 
 CARLINE, an old woman, 
 jade 
 
 CAST O', kind of 
 
 CASTOR, a fur hat 
 
 aUIGHT IN THE 'MAN- 
 NER, caught In a 
 criminal act 
 
 CAULD BE MY CAST, 
 cold be my fate or lot 
 
 CAVESSON, a horse's 
 noseband 
 
 CEDAMT ARMA TOGAE, 
 let arms give place to 
 the insignia of peace 
 
 CHAMBER OF DAIS, the 
 best bedroom, kept for 
 guests of consideration 
 
 CHANGE A LEG. In the 
 old coaching days in- 
 side passengers changed 
 legs with the consent 
 of their opposite neigh- 
 bor 
 
 CHANGE-HOUSE, an inn 
 
 CHAPPIN, a liquid 
 
 measure;^! quart 
 
 CHAPPIT, struck (of a 
 
 CHATEAU QUI PARLE, 
 etc. (p. 183), when a 
 fortress parleys and a 
 lady listens, both are 
 on the point of surren- 
 dering 
 
 CHAUMER, a chamber 
 
 CHEEK OF THE CHIM- 
 NEY NOOK, the fire- 
 side, chimney-corner 
 
 CHIELD, a fellow 
 
 CIRCUS OF ROME. See 
 Green and blue chariots 
 
 CLAVERING, chattering, 
 
 CLAVERS, Idle talk, gos- 
 sip 
 
 CLAVER'SE, John Gra- 
 hame of Claverhouse, 
 Viscount Dundee 
 
 CLAW UP YOUR MIT- 
 TENS, to finish you, 
 give you the coup de 
 grace 
 
 CLOCKIN HEN, a sitting 
 hen 
 
 COCKERNONY, a top- 
 knot 
 
 COG, to empty or pour 
 out 
 
 COGGING, quibbling, de- 
 ceiving, cheating 
 
 COLDINGHAME ABBEY, 
 or rather Priory, found- 
 ed by King Edgar in 
 the last years of the 
 11th century, a few 
 miles from Eyemouth, 
 on the coast of Ber- 
 wickshire 
 
 COMMONTY, right of 
 pasture on the com- 
 mons 
 
 COMPT AND RECKON- 
 ING, a Scots law pro- 
 cess enforcing settle- 
 ment of accounts 
 
 CONDICTIO INDEBITI, a 
 claim for recovering a 
 sum that has been paid 
 when it was not due 
 
 CONSCRIPT FATHERS, 
 the title given to the 
 senators of ancient 
 Rome 
 
 COOKIE, a Scotch bun 
 
 COPPER CAPTAIN, a 
 counterfeit captain. See 
 Beaumont and Fletch- 
 er's Rule a wife and 
 have a wife 
 
 CORDERY, MR., a name 
 suggested by Corderius, 
 the teacher of Calvin. 
 and author of a book of 
 Latin dialogues once 
 extensively used in 
 schools 
 
 COUPE-GORGE, cut- 
 
 throat 
 
 COUTEAU, a hunting- 
 knife 
 
 CRACKS, gossip, boast- 
 ing 
 
 CRIMP, to kidnap 
 
 CRITIC, a play by Sheri- 
 dan 
 
 CROOK, a chain for sus- 
 pending a pot In old 
 fireplaces 
 
 OROWDY. a thick pottage 
 made of oatmeal 
 
 CUITLE, to diddle, get 
 by cheating 
 
 CUL DE LAMPB, a pic- 
 torial ornament, tail- 
 piece 
 
 CULLION, a poltroon 
 
 CUMBERNAULD, the 
 seat of the ancient 
 family of Fleming 
 (Lord Elphinstone), 
 situated 15 miles north- 
 east of Glasgow 
 
 CUMMER, a gossip or 
 
 friend 
 CUTTY, short 
 
 DAFFING, frolicking, 
 
 larking, fun 
 
 DAFT, crazy 
 
 DAIS. See Chamber of 
 dais 
 
 DANDILLY, noted for 
 beauty 
 
 DANG, drove, knocked 
 
 DEAD-DEAL, the board 
 on which a dead body 
 is stretched 
 
 DEBITUM FUNDI, a real 
 burden on the estate 
 
 DEfORE, to decorate; 
 DECOREMENTS, deco- 
 rations 
 
 DEMELE, an encounter, 
 altercation 
 
 DEMI-SAKER, a light 
 fleldpiece, small cannon 
 
 DENTIER, more dainty 
 
 DIET-LOAF, sweet cake 
 
 PIGITO MONSTRARI, to 
 be pointed at with the 
 finger 
 
 DING, to knock, drive, 
 beat 
 
 DINK, trim, neat 
 
 DIRGIE. a funeral en- 
 tertainment 
 
 DIRK, a dagger 
 
 DISNA, does not 
 
 DISPONE UPON, bestow- 
 ed upon 
 
 DITTAY, an Indictment, 
 accusation 
 
 DOITED, dotard, stupid 
 
 DON GAYFEROS, a 
 nephew of the chivalric 
 Roland, and one of the 
 Twelve Peers of Char- 
 lemagne 
 
 DONNART, stupid 
 
 DOO, a dove, pigeon 
 
 DOUR, stubborn 
 
 D R A P - DE-BERRY, a 
 cloth made at Berri in 
 France 
 
 DREIGH, slow, lingering 
 
 DRIBBLE, a drop 
 
 DROUTHY, dry 
 
 DRUCKEN, drunk 
 
 DRUMLANRIG, the an- 
 cient seat of the 
 Queensberry family 
 (now belongs to that of 
 Buccleuch),on the Nith, 
 Parish of Durisdeer, 
 Dumfriesshire 
 
 DUNDEE, John Grahame 
 of Claverhouse, Viscount 
 Dundee, a supporter of 
 the Stuarts 
 
 DUNG, knocked, driven 
 
 DUNSH, to nudge 
 
 D W I N I N G, declining, 
 pining away 
 
 EARTH (of a badger), a 
 hole 
 
 EAST LOTHIAN, another 
 name for Haddington- 
 shire 
 
GLOSSARY 
 
 815 
 
 EATCHE, adze 
 
 EBB, shallow 
 
 ECLAIRCISSEMENT, ex- 
 planation 
 
 EE, an eye: EEN, eyes 
 
 EGERIA, the nymph who 
 used to meet King Nu- 
 ma Pompilius In a grove 
 near Rome 
 
 ELBOW-JIGGER, a fid- 
 dler 
 
 ELFLAND. fairyland 
 
 ENEUCH, enough 
 
 EXIES, hysterics 
 
 EXPIRY OF THE LE- 
 GAL, the expiration of 
 the period in which an 
 estate seiied by adjudi- 
 cation (q. V) may be re- 
 deemed 
 
 EYAS, a hawk brought up 
 from the nest 
 
 FACTOR, a steward 
 
 FAILYIE, to fail 
 
 FASH, to trouble 
 
 FECKLESS, feeble, gilly 
 
 PELL, terrible; a hide, 
 skin 
 
 FEUAR, a Scotch lease- 
 holder; PBU - RIGHTS, 
 absolute rights of prop- 
 erty, in return tor the 
 payment of a trifling sum 
 annually 
 
 >'IDUS ACHATES, faithful 
 companion 
 
 FIT, the foot 
 
 f^LA'M, FLAN, or PLAWN, 
 a kind of custard 
 
 fLANKARD, the side of 
 the lower part of the ab- 
 domen 
 
 njIGHTE'RING, ' transient 
 
 FLISK, a caper, whim 
 
 /"LORENTINE, a kind of 
 pie 
 
 FLYTE, to scold, storm 
 in anger 
 
 FOG, moss 
 
 FORBYE, besides 
 
 FORDUN, JOHN OF, an 
 early Scottish chronicler 
 of the 14th century 
 
 FORESPEAK, to bewitch, 
 presage evil of 
 
 FORGATHER, to come to- 
 gether, meet one an- 
 other 
 
 FOU, a bushel 
 
 FOUL THIEF, the tievll 
 
 POUND, to go, depend 
 
 FOY, an entertainment 
 given by friends to one 
 who is about to leave 
 them for good 
 
 FRACTIOUS, rebellious, 
 difficult to deal with 
 
 FREIT, an omen 
 
 FREMD, strange 
 
 PROGS, an ornamental 
 fastening of a coat or 
 mantle, genenally a long 
 button and a loop 
 
 FUGITATION, a crimi- 
 nal's fleeing from jus- 
 tice — a Scots law term 
 
 FURNISHES (DEER'S), 
 presumably droppings; 
 hence track 
 
 GABERLUNZIE, a beggar, 
 mendicant 
 
 GAB, to go 
 
 GAISLING, a gosling 
 
 GALLOWAY, a Scotch 
 cob, named from the dis- 
 trict of Galloway, where 
 originally bred 
 
 GANG, to go; GANE, gone 
 
 GAR, to make, oblige 
 
 GATE, direction, place, 
 way 
 
 GAUGER, an exciseman 
 
 GAUNCH, a snatch with 
 the open mouth, bite 
 
 GAWSIE, plump, jolly 
 
 GEAR, property 
 
 GEIZENED, leaky, as a 
 barrel kept too long dry 
 
 GEORGIUS, a gold George- 
 noble (equals 6s. 8d.), 
 time of Henry VIII., St. 
 George being the device 
 on the obverse 
 
 GIF, if 
 
 G I N E S D E PASSA- 
 MONTE. See Don Qui- 
 xote, pt. li., chap, 
 xxviil., and pt. i., 
 chap. xxii. 
 
 GIRD, a hoop 
 
 GIRN, to grin 
 
 GLAZEN, furnished with 
 glass 
 
 GLEDGING, looking ask- 
 ance 
 
 GLEED, a spark, flame 
 
 GLEEING, squinting 
 
 GLEN'T. to whisk, flash 
 
 GLOWER, to gaze, stare 
 
 GOB-BOX. the mouth 
 
 GOWD. gold 
 
 GOWK, a fool; a cackoo 
 
 GOWRIE CONSPIRACY, a 
 mysterious attempt to 
 assassinate James VI. 
 of Scotland by Lord 
 Ruthven and his broth- 
 er, the Earl of Gowrie, 
 in 1600 
 
 GRAHAMB TO WEAR 
 GREEN. The Marquis 
 of Montrose. a Gra- 
 hame. was driven to ex- 
 ecution in a cart of 
 green alder; fulfllling 
 an old propiiecy — "Visa 
 la fln [Montrose's mot- 
 to]. On an ouler [aide:] 
 tree ^reen, Shall by 
 many ae seen' ' 
 
 GRAITH. furniture 
 
 GRAVAMINOUS, serious, 
 important 
 
 GRAYBEARD, a stone Jar 
 for holding ale or liquor 
 
 GREEN AND BLUE 
 CHARIOTS. In the 
 
 reign of Justinian, em- 
 peror of the Eastern 
 Empire, the rivalries of 
 the blue and green char- 
 iBteers, who raced in 
 
 the circus at Byzantium, 
 developed into political 
 factions powerful enough 
 to seriously disturb the 
 state 
 
 GREET, to weep 
 
 GROGRAM, a coarse tex- 
 tile fabric 
 
 GRUND-MIAEL, rent lor 
 tJhe ground 
 
 GUDEIMAN, the head of 
 the house, the husband 
 
 GUDESIRiB, a grandfathor 
 
 GUDBWIFE, a wife, as 
 head of her house, land- 
 lady 
 
 GUIDES, managers, guld- 
 ers; GUIDING, treating, 
 behaving to 
 
 GUSTTNIG THEIR GABS, 
 tickling their palates 
 
 GUY OP WARWICK, the 
 hero of an Early BngiUsh 
 romance, one of whose 
 feats was to overcome a 
 famous Dua Cow on 
 Dunsmore Heath, mear 
 Warwick 
 
 HAOKSTOUN OP RATH- 
 ILLET, a fanatical Cam- 
 eronian, one of the mur- 
 derers of Archbiahop 
 Sharp of St. Andrews in 
 1679 
 
 HIAGGIS, a Scotch pud- 
 ding of minced meat, 
 mixed with oat-meal, 
 suet, onions, etc., boiled 
 in a skin bag 
 
 HAILL AND PEIR, whole 
 and sound, complete and 
 entire 
 
 HALE, HAILL, whole 
 
 HALP-FOU, half-bushel 
 
 HAMILTON, on the Clyde, 
 Lanarkshire, the princi- 
 pal seat of the ducal 
 family of Hamilton. The 
 wild cattle stiill roam 
 through the extensive 
 parks 
 
 HARLED, dragged 
 
 HATTED KIT. a bowl of 
 sour or curdled cream 
 
 BAUD, to hold; HAUD 
 OUT, to present a fire- 
 arm 
 
 HEATHER -OOW, a. twig 
 or tuft of heath 
 
 HEBZY, a Ihoist, swing up 
 
 HEIR OF LINNE, this 
 old ballad is printed In 
 Percy's Reliques 
 
 HElLLiOAT, devil - may- 
 caTe 
 
 HEILL IS PAVED, etc., 
 the phrase is due to Dr. 
 Johnson ; the idea is 
 common to several writ- 
 ers; cf. George Her- 
 bert's Jacula Prudeii- 
 tiura 
 
 HENRIETTA MARIA, 
 queen-consort of Charles 
 I., and daughter of Hen- 
 ry IV. of Prance 
 
Sltt 
 
 VAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 HERMIT SlAOE OiF JOHN- 
 SON, Dr. Johnson's par- 
 ody on a poem by T. 
 Warton. See Boswell's 
 Life, under year 1777 
 
 HOPE, BARD OF, Thomas 
 Campbell, author ot 
 Measures of Hope 
 
 HOU&H, a thigh, ham 
 
 HOU3HWaFBSK:EP, house- 
 wifery 
 
 HOW, a hollow 
 
 HUAH^OCK, a hemlock 
 
 HYKE A TAUBOT, etc. (p. 
 87), hunting terms and 
 names borrowed frum 
 Dame Juliana Bemer's 
 Treatise of Hawking, 
 Hunting, etc. (I486)— 
 Book of St. Alban'a 
 
 ILKA, each, every 
 
 ILKA LAVD ITS AIN 
 LAUiCH, every place its 
 own (law) customs 
 
 ILL^CLEOKET, Ill-hatched 
 
 ILL-DBEDY GEJTT, mis- 
 chievous urchin 
 
 IN FORO CO.VTE'NTIOSO, 
 in the law courts 
 
 IN'GAN, an onion 
 
 I.NiIMICUlS AMICISSIMUS, 
 an enemy Is (some- 
 times) the best of 
 frlruds 
 
 INLaKE, a breach, loss, 
 death 
 
 INTER MIlNOR'EIS, be- 
 tween minors 
 
 IN TERROREM, as a 
 warning to others 
 
 IRISH BRIGADHX a body 
 of troops in the pay of 
 the French King 
 
 ITHHR. other 
 
 JACOBUS, a gold coin— 
 
 25s., first issued by 
 James I. of (England 
 
 JESS, a leathern strap 
 fixed round a Ihawk's 
 leg 
 
 JOE, a sweetheart, dai- 
 ling 
 
 JOHN OHTTRCHILL, the 
 great soldier, the Duke 
 of iMarlborough ot 
 
 Amie's reign 
 
 JOHNNY NHW-OOMiE, a 
 newcoimer, upstart 
 
 JOW, a toll 
 
 K.ALL, broth ; KAIL- 
 
 YARD, a cabbage gar- 
 den 
 
 KAKN. a tribute In kind, 
 aa of poultry, eggs, 
 cheese, etc., from ten- 
 ant to landlord 
 
 KAISER, the lEImiperor of 
 'Germany 
 
 KBBBUOK, a cheese 
 
 KBEKIT, peeped 
 
 R0BP HER THRGEP, 
 keep her resolution 
 
 KELPIE, a 'water-spirit 
 
 KBN, to know 
 
 KBNSPiEOKLE, conspicu- 
 ous, easily recognized 
 
 KI.MlMiBR. a gossip, £rleuil 
 
 KINDLY AID, a contrlbu- 
 titra in kind payable to 
 the landlord by the ten- 
 ant 
 KIPPAGB, a rage, dilem- 
 ma 
 KIPiPER, a dried salmon 
 KIST, a ohest, coffin 
 KITTLE, to tickle; ti'Ck- 
 
 lish 
 KNOIWEJ, * knoll, emi- 
 nence 
 
 liAMIMiETl, amber 
 
 LAL\I.ME(R> lUVW, one ot 
 the Laanmenraoor hills, 
 eight miles south of 
 Hnctdington 
 
 L' A'-UPHITRIOiN OU L'ON 
 'DINE, the nia:n who 
 really pays for the din- 
 ner. See Plautus, Am- 
 phitruo 
 
 LANDWARD, In the coun- 
 try, rural 
 
 LATEl-'WAKE, the watch 
 over a dead body 
 
 UAUCH, law, customs 
 
 LAUNDER, to do laundry 
 work 
 
 UAiWING, a bill, reckon- 
 ing 
 
 L.'UWS SCHEME, a com- 
 pany formed in 1717 by 
 John Law (of Lauriston, 
 near lEdinburgh) for de- 
 veloping the resources ot 
 Louisiana and the 'Mis- 
 sissippi valley, which at 
 that time belonged to 
 France 
 
 LBB, NATHA NIEL, 
 draimatist, went Insace 
 through drink, wrote 
 The Rival Queens; or, 
 Alexander the Great 
 (1667), and other plays 
 
 LEG, lOHAN'GB A. See 
 'Ohange a leg 
 
 LIFT, the sky; to carry off 
 
 LINKS, sandy flat ground 
 on sea-coast, dunes 
 
 ■LIPPH.N, to trust 
 
 LIPBENING WORD, occa- 
 sional, thoughtless word 
 
 LITH, a joint 
 
 LOON, a fellow 
 
 LOOT, allowed, permitted 
 
 t,OUlPBN, leaped 
 
 LOWE, a flame, fire 
 
 LUCKIB, mother, a title 
 given to old dames 
 
 LUITHR CUM PERSONA, 
 eto. dp. 51), he pays 
 ■with his person who can- 
 not pay iwith his purse 
 
 LUM, a chimney 
 
 L'UN N'SMPiBCHB, etc. 
 (p. 99), the one is no 
 hindrance to the other 
 
 LUNYIES, loins 
 
 LURDANE; a blockhead 
 
 MAIL, tax, rent 
 MAILING, a small farm 
 MAI.V, a hand at dice, 
 
 matoh at cock-fighting 
 MAIR, MAIST, more, most 
 
 M A 1 T R B D'ARMBS. 
 
 swordsman, fenoingHmas- 
 
 MALLBUS MALIFICARUM 
 (nine editions before 
 1496), by Kramer and 
 Sprenger, describing the 
 processes against witches 
 
 MANSE, a parsonage 
 
 MA.UN, must 
 
 MAUT, malt 
 
 MiBAL-POKB, a meal-bag 
 
 MELTEH, a herring full 
 of milt 
 
 MiEPHIBOSHETH. a char- 
 acter in Dryden's Absa- 
 lom and Achitopel 
 
 ME}RK— Is. 1 l-3d. 
 
 .MiEIRSB, Berwickshire 
 
 MEiSSAN, a cur 
 
 MBT.\iLLEID (Lu^I>S), met- 
 tled, full ot spirit 
 
 MILE, ISOOTTUSH, nearly 
 nine furlongs 
 
 ■MiLLL or 'MULL, a snuff- 
 box 
 
 MIRANDA, the heroine of 
 Shakespeare's Tempest 
 
 MIRK, dark 
 
 ■MISGIE. to go wrong, fall 
 
 MITTENiS. See Claw up 
 your mittens 
 
 WON DIEU! IL Y lElN A 
 'DEUX, Good Heavens! 
 there are two of them 
 
 .MONTERO O.AP, a horse- 
 man's or huntsman's caip 
 with ear-flaps 
 
 MORLAND, GEORGE, a 
 clever English painter, 
 but a fman of dissipated 
 habits, 'Who died In 1804 
 
 MOSS, a morass, marsh 
 
 MOUNTAIN-MAIN, a Cam- 
 eronian, strictest sect of 
 Covenanters 
 
 MR. PUFF, a character in 
 Slheridan's Critic 
 
 M'UCKLE, much 
 
 MULL, a snuff-horn 
 
 MULTIBLIPEPOIiNDING, a 
 Scots law proce.ss, the 
 English interpleader, for 
 settling competing claims 
 to one and the same 
 fund 
 
 M U R G E O N S, mouths, 
 grimaces 
 
 NAE, NABBODY, NAETH- 
 ING, no, nobody, nothing 
 
 N.AR, never 
 
 N0QOB DIVES, NEQUE, 
 etc. (p. 13S), No Scotch- 
 man of merit, be he 
 rich, brave, or even 
 wise, will be able to re- 
 main long in his coun- 
 try. Envy will drive 
 hiim out 
 
 NiEUK, nook, corner 
 
 NOMBLES, or NUMBLES, 
 the entrails of a deer 
 
 NORTHAMPTON, EARL 
 OF. Henry Howard, 
 youngerbroLher ot Thom- 
 as, fourth Duke of Nor- 
 folk, born 1540, was 
 
GLOSSARY 
 
 817 
 
 prominent during t h ft 
 
 reigas of Klizabeth and 
 James I. 
 NORTH BERWICK LAW, 
 a concal hill near Nortli 
 Berwick 
 NOURICBSHIP, the office 
 
 of nurse 
 NOWT, black cattle 
 NUMA, the second of tha 
 legendary kings of an- 
 cient Rome 
 NUPTA; DOMUM DUC- 
 TA ; OBITT ; SEPT. LT ; 
 wedded ; taken home ; 
 died; buried 
 
 OFFCOME, an apology, 
 
 excu9« 
 ORANGE, PRINCE OF. 
 
 See Spanish generals 
 OUT-BYE, from home 
 OVERCROW, to over- 
 power, triumph over 
 OWERLOOK, to ignore 
 OXTER, the armpit 
 
 PACOLET, a dwarf, owner 
 of a winged horse, in 
 the legend of Valentine 
 and Orson 
 
 FAINTING. See Serene 
 and silent art 
 
 PAND, a pledge; « bed- 
 curtain 
 
 PAROCHINE, a parish 
 
 PARVE, NEC INVIDEO, 
 etc. (p. 2), Thou art 
 about to go. but alone, 
 into the busy city, my 
 little book— I grudge 
 thee not thy lot 
 
 PAS D'AVANCB, the lead, 
 precedence 
 
 PATRIA POTESTAS. pa- 
 ternal authority 
 
 PEARLINGS, lace 
 
 PELAT, a person of Insuf- 
 ferable Dride 
 
 PEGH, to pant, breathe 
 hard 
 
 PETTICOAT-TAIL, a kind 
 of cake baked with but- 
 ter 
 
 PETTY COVER, for petit 
 convert, a meal not 
 eaten In ceremonious 
 state 
 
 PEW, tha plaintive cry ol 
 certain birds; COULD- 
 NA HAE PLAYED 
 PEW, could not have 
 drawn a note from 
 
 PICKLE, a small quantity 
 
 PICK-MAW, a species of 
 gull 
 
 PIG, a stoneware vessel, 
 pitcher 
 
 PINE, to pain, punish 
 
 PINNTWINKLES, an In- 
 strument of torture con- 
 sisting of a board with 
 holes, into which the 
 fingers were thrust and 
 pressed with screw-pegs 
 
 PINT, SCOTCH— 3 Eng- 
 lish pints 
 
 PIQUE, REPIQUE, and 
 C'APOT, terms used in 
 the game of picquet 
 
 PIHN, a reel 
 
 PIT-MIRK, as dark as 
 pitch 
 
 PIZB, a term of mild ex- 
 ecration 
 
 PLACEBO, a sop 
 
 PLACK, a small copper 
 coin — 1-3 penny 
 
 PLISKIE, a prank, trick 
 
 PLOY, a merry-making 
 
 PLUMDAMAS, for prune 
 de damas, a damask 
 plum, i. e. a damson 
 (tart) 
 
 POCK-PUDDING a Scotch- 
 man's contemptuous 
 name for an Englishman 
 
 POINT, QUINT, and QUA- 
 TORZE, terms used in 
 the game of picquet 
 
 POINT D'APPUI, a sup- 
 port 
 
 POINT D'ESPAGNB, a 
 sort of French lace 
 esteemed in Spain in the 
 17th century 
 
 POKE, a b;ig 
 
 POSSO, IN MANNOR 
 WATER, in Peebles- 
 shire 
 
 POUTHERED, corned, 
 slightly salted 
 
 PRESTER. JOHN, legend- 
 aiy King of Abyssinia 
 
 PRETTY MAN, a brave 
 man, athletic and skilled 
 in the use of his weap- 
 ons 
 
 PROPINE, a gift 
 
 FUND SCOTS— Is. 8d ster- 
 ling 
 
 PYKB, a pick 
 
 QUAIGH, a drlnklng-cup 
 of hooped staves, orna- J 
 mented with silver. It 
 held about a pint, and 
 was chiefly used for wlue 
 and brandy 
 
 QUARTER'S LENGTH, a 
 quarter of a yard 
 
 QUEEN, a sprightly young 
 woman, flirt 
 
 RAE, roe-deer 
 RAILLY. •r RAIL, a kind 
 of cloak or kerchief for 
 the neck and head 
 RAVEN-BONE, the spoon- 
 bone of the brisket, 
 thrown by hunters to the 
 ravens, in cutting up 
 the ^tag 
 REAVING, thieving 
 REDD, to clear, tidy 
 RED WUD, downright 
 
 mad 
 REEK, smoke 
 REESTED. smoke-dried 
 REMIGIUS, NICOLAUS. 
 or NICHOLAS OF 
 
 REMY, author of a work 
 on witchcraft (1595) 
 
 REPONED, used as a. re- 
 ply 
 
 REVERENCE, BACON 
 WITH, bacon with its 
 garnishlnga or belong- 
 ings 
 
 RIFLER, a hawk that doe? 
 not return to the lure 
 
 RING-WALK, the track of 
 a stag 
 
 ROAR YOU AN 'TWERE 
 ANY NIGHTINGALE. 
 See Midsummer Night's 
 Dream, Act i., Sc. 2 
 
 ROUND, to whisper 
 
 ROUP, an auction 
 
 RUDAS, a scolding Jade 
 
 RUNLET, a barrel, hold- 
 ing ISVi gallons 
 
 SAE, so 
 
 ST. CLAIR TO CROSS 
 THE ORD ON A MON- 
 DAY. The Earl of Ork- 
 ney, chief of the S:n- 
 clairs or St. Clairs, ltd 
 his men on a Monday 
 over Ord Hill on the 
 way to Flodden, where 
 they alJ perished to a 
 man 
 
 SAINT GERMAINS, near 
 Paris, where James II. 
 held court during his 
 exile 
 
 ST. MARGARET, niece of 
 Edward the Confessor 
 and wife of Malcolm 
 Cammore; her day is 
 June 10th 
 
 SAIR, sore 
 
 SAMYN, same 
 
 SANT, a saint 
 
 SARABAND, a Spanish 
 dance 
 
 SARK, a shirt 
 
 SAUL, a soul 
 
 SAUMON, a salmon 
 
 '.'AUT, salt 
 
 RCART, a scratch 
 
 :-CAUD, to scald 
 
 SCLATB, a tiate; SCIJIT- 
 ER, a slater 
 
 SCOTCH PINT— 3 Engllak 
 pints 
 
 SCOTTISH MILE, nearly 
 nine furlongs 
 
 SCRAUGH, a screech, 
 loud, discordant cry 
 
 S C R E I G H, to shriek, 
 scream 
 
 SCUNNER, to loathe, 
 shudder with aversion 
 
 SERE-XE AND SILENT 
 ART (painting). See 
 Campbell's Stan&as to 
 Painting 
 
 SETS, becomes, suits 
 
 SEVEN SLEEPERS, mar- 
 tyrs of Ephesus, who, 
 according to the legend, 
 slept in a cave from the 
 reign of the Emperor 
 Declus to that of Theo- 
 doslus II., a period of 
 19< years 
 
818 
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 SEVEN WISE MASTERS, 
 til* seven sages of aa< 
 cient Greece 
 
 SHAUGLE, to wear down, 
 sliuffls 
 
 SHINS TO PINE (punish), 
 «. g. the torture of the 
 boot 
 
 SHOT OP, TO BE, to get 
 quit of 
 
 SHOVEL-BOARD, a game 
 In which the players 
 strive to shove or drive 
 coins or counters on to 
 certain marks, lines, or 
 squares on the table 
 
 SIC, SICCAN, such 
 
 SINGLES, the talons of a 
 hawlc 
 
 SIR EVAN DHU, Sir Even 
 •Cameron of Lochiel, a 
 famous Highland chief, 
 and supporter of the 
 
 ■ Stuarts, fought at Kil- 
 lecrankie in 1689 
 
 SIR JOSHUA, 1. e. Sir 
 Joshua Reynolds, the 
 painter 
 
 S K I O C H NOCH NA 
 SKIAILL, cut a drink 
 with a tale, 1. e. Don't 
 preach over your liquor 
 
 SKIEL, to scream 
 
 SLIDDERY, slippery 
 
 SLOREN, to slake, quench 
 
 SNAP, a small ginger- 
 bread 
 
 6NECKDRAWING, cun- 
 ning; SNECKDRAWER, 
 an artful, cunning per- 
 son 
 
 BNISHING, SNEESHIN, 
 SN.EESHING, snuff 
 
 SOOPIT, swept 
 
 SOOTHFAST, trusty, hon- 
 est 
 
 SOPITE, to settle, set at 
 rest 
 
 SORT, to supply, suit; to 
 give a drubbing 
 
 SOUGH, a rumor, whis- 
 per; SOUGHED, softly 
 breathed, whispered 
 
 Pni'P, a sup; mouthful 
 
 SOUPLE, a cudgel 
 
 SUWENS, a kind of gruel 
 made from the soured 
 siftings of oatmeal 
 
 SPAE, to foretell 
 
 p P A N I S H GENERALS 
 AND PRINCE OF 
 ORANGE. William of 
 Orange commanded 20.- 
 000 Spaniards in the 
 campaign against 
 France 1554-5T 
 
 SPEER, to ask. Invite, 
 inquire 
 
 SPtRENGERUS. Jacob 
 Sprenger, joint author 
 of Malleus Maliflcarum 
 
 SPULE-BANE, the shoul- 
 der-blade 
 
 SPUNK, a spark, match 
 
 SPURS, DISH OP. Scott's 
 ancestress, the Flower 
 •t Yarrow, Is said to 
 
 have reminded her lord, 
 Auld Wat of Harden, a 
 celebrated Border raider, 
 that the larder was 
 empty, by placing on 
 the table a dish con- 
 taining a pair of clean 
 spurs — a hint to ride in- 
 to England. See Lock- 
 hart's Life, vol. i., p. 
 93 
 
 STEADING, a farm, farm- 
 
 ; yard 
 
 STEER, to disturb 
 
 S T I C K I T, imperfect, 
 broken down 
 
 STOUP, a liquid measure 
 
 STOUTHRIEF robbery 
 
 with violence 
 
 STRAE, straw 
 
 STRAUGHT, to stretch, 
 make straight 
 
 STREIK, to stretch, lay 
 out 
 
 SUB JOVE FRIGIDO, In 
 the open air 
 
 SUBURB, outlying (dis- 
 trict, place) 
 
 S U M P H, a blockhead, 
 dunce 
 
 SUNE, soon 
 
 6URBATED, foot-sore 
 
 SUUM CUIQUE TIRIBUI- 
 TO, give to each his 
 own 
 
 SWANKING, active, agile 
 
 SWAP, a barter, ex- 
 change; to strike sound- 
 ly 
 
 SWAUK, a swack, thwack 
 violent blow 
 
 fWIRE, a mountain pass 
 YBO, a young onion 
 SYCORAX, a witch, the 
 mother of Caliban, in 
 Shakespeare's Tempest 
 SYND, to rinse 
 SYNE, since, ago 
 
 TACK, a lease, possession 
 
 TAID, a toad 
 
 TAIT, a bunch, handful 
 
 TAKE ONE'S GAIT, to go 
 one's own way 
 
 TAP OF TOW, bunch of 
 tow on the distaff, that 
 readily catches fire 
 
 TASS, a glass 
 
 TAURIDOR, a bull-flghter 
 
 TEIND, a tithe 
 
 TENONY, stringy, sinewy 
 
 TEUGH, tough 
 
 THICKSET, a kind of 
 fustian, resembling vel- 
 veteen in appearance 
 
 THOMAS THE RHYMER, 
 of Ercildoune (Earlston) 
 in Berwickshire, an an- 
 cient Scottish poet and 
 prophet, and a favorite 
 legendary hero 
 
 "THOU SWEETEST 
 THfNG," etc. (p. 186), 
 from Joanna Baillie's 
 
 ' Constantine Paloeologus, 
 Act U., Sc. 2 
 
 THOWliBSS, Inactive, p» 
 miss 
 
 THRAW, to twist Itself, 
 distort itself; a twist 
 
 THREEP, KEEP HER. 
 See Keep her threep 
 
 THROUGH - STANE, 
 THRUCH-STANE, a flat 
 gravestone 
 
 TIMMEiR, timber; TIM- 
 MER BURSE, the ex- 
 change of the timber- 
 merchants 
 
 TIPPENCB, twopence 
 
 TOCHER-GOOD, dowry 
 
 TOD, a fox 
 
 TOD'S DEN, also called 
 in other passages Tod' a 
 Hole, and stated to be 5 
 to 6 miles from Wolf's 
 Crag* 
 
 •A few other irregulari- 
 ties of a similar kind oc- 
 cur in this novel; as Lady 
 Ashton is called Marga- 
 ret and Eleanor; Glraer, 
 John and Gibbie; the sex- 
 ton, Mortsheugh and Mor- 
 theuch 
 
 TOKAY, a flery Hungar- 
 ian wine 
 
 TOLBOOTH, a Jail 
 
 TONGUE OF THE 
 TRUMP, the part of a 
 jew's-harp that makes 
 the sound; hence the 
 essential or principal 
 person concerned 
 
 TOUT, the pet; a fit of 
 ill-temper 
 
 TRAPRAIN, or TRAP- 
 RAIN LAW, a conspic- 
 uous conical hill 4 
 miles east of Hadding- 
 ton 
 
 TREDRILLE, a .game of 
 cards played by three 
 persons 
 
 TRISTEM, SIR, a knight 
 of the Round Table, fa- 
 mous in the chase 
 
 TWA, two 
 
 TWAL, twelve ; TWAL 
 PENNIES SCOTCH— one 
 penny of English money 
 
 TWILT, a quilted bed- 
 cover 
 UMQUHILE, deceased, 
 late 
 
 UNA, the heroine of Spen- 
 r ser's Faerie Queene 
 
 UNCO, uncommon 
 
 VAIK, to be vacant 
 
 VERSAILLES, the court 
 of Louis XIV. of Prance 
 
 VIA FACTI, by force 
 
 VIRGINALS, an old sort 
 of piano 
 
 VISIE, an inspection 
 
 VISNOMY, physiognomy, 
 face, features 
 
 VIVBRS, vlctuali 
 
GLOSSARY 
 
 818 
 
 WADSET, a mortgage, 
 pledge; WADSETTER, a 
 usurer, mortgagor 
 
 WAE, woe ; woful, sorry 
 
 WAME, belly 
 
 WAP, a smart stroke 
 
 WARE, to spend, bestow 
 
 WARLOCK, a witch 
 
 WASTLAND, west coun- 
 try 
 
 WAT, to wet 
 
 WATER - PURPIB, the 
 brook lime or horse- 
 well grass 
 
 WAUR, worse 
 
 WEAN, an infant, small 
 
 cbiia 
 
 WEID, a feverish cold 
 WHAMPLB, a blow 
 WhEEN, a few 
 WHIGMALEERIES, fancy 
 
 toys 
 WHILES, now and agin 
 WHIM-WHAM, fancy 
 
 pastry 
 WHIN - BUSH, a furze 
 
 bush 
 WHINSTANE, greenstone, 
 
 ragstone 
 WHITE-H.\SS, a meat 
 
 pudding 
 WHOMBLING, turning 
 
 upside down 
 
 WIUAWINS, woe's me, 
 
 well-a-day 
 WILL TO CUPAR MAUN 
 ,. TO CUPAE, a wilfui 
 
 man must have his 
 
 way 
 WIN, to make way, get 
 WIND HIM A PIRN, to 
 
 cause him trouble, an- 
 noyance 
 WITHIE. the gallows, 
 
 halter 
 WON INTO, made way 
 
 into 
 
 YESTREEN, yesternight 
 
 YILL, a!e 
 
 TOWU to gtre tongue 
 
INDEX 
 
 A.LICE, Old, 31, 84 ; visited by Sir W. 
 Asliton and Lucy, 35 ; by Lucy and 
 Ravenswood, 169 ; warns Ravenswood, 
 173 ; her death, 214 ; laid out by tlie 
 old women, 316 
 
 Armitage churchyard, 219, 220 
 
 A.shton, Colonel Sholto Douglas, 28 ; 
 resents Ravenswood's intrusion, 281 
 opens the door of bridal chamber, 294 
 challenges Ravenswood at the funeral 
 300 ; waits for Ravenswood, 304 
 
 A.shton, Henry, 27 ; his terror at Ravens- 
 wood, 164 ; shoots the raven, 180 ; begs 
 ribbon and wire from Lucy, 264 ; dis- 
 tresses Lucy, 269 ; his pleasure in his 
 new clothes, 278 ; rides to the wedding, 
 290 
 
 Ash ton. Lady, 17; her matrimonial views 
 for Lucy, 192 ; her gracious reception 
 of Craigengelt, 197 ; her carriage races 
 
 with the Marquis of A 's, 202; vents 
 
 her resentment against Sir William, 
 205 ; bids Ravenswood leave the castle, 
 207 ; her reply to Ravenswood's letter, 
 252 ; manages Bucklaw's interview 
 with Lucy, 259 ; persecutes Lucy, 207 ; 
 signs the marriage articles, 279 ; ad- 
 duces Scripture against Ravenswood, 
 284 ; her subsequent history, 305 
 
 Ashton, Lucy, 26 ; takes her father to 
 Old Alice, 33 ; rescued from the wild 
 bull, 41 ; makes an impression on 
 Ravenswood, 47 ; at the hunt, 88, 93 ; 
 finds shelter at Wolf's Crag, 93 ; her 
 terror at the storm, 103 ; manner to- 
 wards Ravenswood, 153 ; guides him 
 to Old Alice, 169 ; betrothes herself to 
 Ravenswood, 178 ; her relations with 
 him, 185 ; her letter to Ravenswood, 
 254 ; her interview with Bucklaw, 260 ; 
 her trials and distresses, 266 ; put un- 
 der Ailsie Gourlay's care, 271 ; sub- 
 jected to Bide-the-Bent's influence, 
 275 ; signs the marriage articles, 279 ; 
 meets Ravenswood's challenge, 284 ; 
 on her wedding morning, 289 ; discov- 
 ered a maniac, 295 ; her burial, 298 
 
 Ashton, Sir William, 15 ; informed of 
 the tumult at Lord Ravenswood's 
 funeral, 23 ; his reflections thereon, 
 24 ; and his daughter, 29 ; visits Old 
 Alice, 33 ; encounters Ravenswood, 
 46 ; tones down his report of the tu- 
 mult, 49 ; accosts Ravenswood at the 
 hunt. 90 ; asks shelter at Wolf's Crag, 
 98 ; his conciliatory bearing, 101, 109, 
 
 130 ; strives to disarm Ravenswood's 
 enmity, 133, 144 ; sounded by Marquis 
 
 of A 's agent, 136 ; reconciled to 
 
 Ravenswood, 151 ; his attention to 
 domestic matters, 184 ; awaiting the 
 
 Marquis of A 's arrival, 198 ; rated 
 
 by Lady Ashton, 205 ; threatened with 
 an appeal to House of Peers, 251, 266 ; 
 his letter to Ravenswood, 253 ; signs 
 the marriage articles, 279 
 Author, his Introduction, ix 
 
 Babie, Alice's attendant, 35 
 
 Balderstone, Caleb, roused by Ravens- 
 wood and Bucklaw, 66 ; his subter- 
 fuges, 68, 72, 94, 105, 147, 241 ; collects 
 the driblets of claret, 72; uncovers 
 the herrings, 82 ; begs Ravenswood 
 to invite no more guests, 85 ; shuts out 
 the grooms, 96; refuses to admit Buck- 
 law, 98 ; announces the disaster to the 
 dinner, 105 ; his relations with Wolf's 
 Hope, 111 ; his requisitions opposed, 
 113 ; enters Girder's cottage, 117 ; car- 
 ries off the wild-fowl, 121 ; propitiated 
 by Girder, 127 ; warns Ravenswood 
 against the Ashtons, 157; forces money 
 on him, 160 ; reports Wolf's Crag to be 
 burning, 234 ; thanked by the Girders, 
 236 ; tells the truth about the fire, 
 240 ; his anxiety about his master, 
 301 ; last entreaty to him, 303 ; picks 
 up the feather, 304 ; his last days, 305 
 
 Ballantyne, James and John, 308 
 
 Bide-the-Bent, Rev. Mr., at Girder's, 123; 
 employed to influence Lucy, 275 ; his 
 prayer, 279 ; tries to preserve peace, 
 283 ; reads the texts, 285 
 
 Birnie. Patie, fiddler, 225 
 
 Bittlebrains, Lord, his hounds, 83 ; re- 
 ceives the Ashtons and Ravenswood, 
 162 
 
 Blenkensop, Lady, 192 
 
 Bride of Lammermoor. /See Dalrymple 
 family and Ashton, Lucy 
 
 Bride of Lanunermoor, the novel, Au- 
 thor's Introduction to, ix 
 
 Buchanan, George, jester, 308 
 
 Bucklaw, at Tod's Den, ,52 ; fights with 
 Ravenswood, 61 ; takes refuge at 
 Wolf's Crag, 63 ; complains of his 
 lodging, 74 ; sets off for tlie hunt, 84 ; 
 cuts up the stag, 89 ; refused admit- 
 tance by Caleb, 98 ; becomes Laird of 
 Girnington, 187; sends Craigengelt to 
 Lady Ashton, 194 ; discusses his own 
 321 
 
WAVERLEY NOVELS 
 
 marriage, 256 ; His Interview with 
 Lucy, 200 ; signs the marriage articles, 
 279 ; resents Ravenswood's intrusion, 
 281 ,• discovered in his blood, 294 ; his 
 declaration of silence, 297 
 Burial, Scottish, 19, 298 ; laying out of 
 a corpse, 216 
 
 Cattle, wild, 39 
 
 Charms, curing by, 291, 812 
 
 Chiesley of Dairy, 38, 307 
 
 tIJoIdinghame, Abbey of, 219 
 
 Craigengelt, Captain, at Tod's Den, 52 ; 
 his Jacobite intrigues, 53 ; turns up 
 at Wolf's Hope, 98 ; carries Bucklaw's 
 challenge to Wolf's Crag, 147 ; be- 
 comes Bucklaw's factotum, 187 ; his 
 matrimonial scheming, 191 ; goes as 
 Bucklaw's emissary to Lady Ashton, 
 196; arrives at Ravenswood Castle 
 with Lady Ashton, 205 ; discusses 
 Bucklaw's marriage, 255 ; signs the 
 marriage articles, 279 ; spurned by 
 Ravenswood, 287 
 
 Dais, chamber of, 247 
 
 Dalrymple family, connection with the 
 
 novel, ix, 307 
 Dingwall, Davie, the writer, 113 
 Duke's Walk, Edinburgh, 297, 313 
 Dunbar of Baldoon, x 
 
 Fast Castle, xviii 
 Footmen, running, 199, 311 
 Funeral, Scottish, 19, 298 
 
 Girder, Gibbie, 116 ; his indignation 
 against Caleb, 123 ; sends sack and 
 brandy after him, 127 ; his gratitude 
 to Caleb, 236 ; entertains Marquis of 
 A , 244 
 
 Girder, Mrs., 118, 123, 236 
 
 Girnington, Lady, 53 
 
 Glossary, 313 
 
 Gourlay, Ailsie, at Old Alice's 216 ; 
 nurses Lucy, 271 ; prophesies evil at 
 her wedding, 291 ; at her funeral, 299 
 
 Hamilton, Sir William, of Whitelaw, xiii 
 Hayston, Frank. See Bucklaw 
 Hospitality, ancient, 132, 309 
 
 Justice, administration of, in Scotland, 
 16 
 
 Kelpie's Flow, Caleb's warning, 158 ; 
 engulfs Ravenswood, 304 
 
 Law's Memorials, quoted, xiii 
 Lightbody, Luckie, 117 ; beards Gibbie 
 
 Girder, 124 ; entertains Marquis of 
 
 A , 244 
 
 Lockhard, offers Ravenswood his horse, 
 
 86 ; at Wolf's Crag, 98, 107 
 Lockhart, Sir George, 38, 307 
 * Look not thou on beauty's charming,' 
 
 26 
 Lord Keeper. See Ashton, Sir William 
 Loup-the-Dyke, Dame. See Lightbody, 
 
 Luckie 
 
 Maooik, the paralytic hag, at Old 
 
 Alice's, 216 ; at Lucy's wedding, 290; 
 at her funeral, 298 
 
 Marquis of A , 78 ; his letter to 
 
 Ravenswood, 79 ; sounds Sir W. Ash- 
 ton, 136 ; racing of his carriage, 203 ; 
 interview with Lady Ashton, 209 ; 
 counsels Ravenswood, 226 ; enter- 
 tained at Gibbie Girder's 244 ; suc- 
 ceeds to power, 250 
 
 Mermaiden's Fountain, legend of, 42 ; 
 betrothal at, 176 ; apparition there, 
 212 
 
 Middleton's Mad World, 310 
 
 Mortsheugh, the sexton, 218 ; interview 
 with Ravenswood, 220 ; at Lucy's wed- 
 ding, 290 
 
 Mysie, Caleb's helper, 67, 70, 110 ; her 
 supposed danger, 235 
 
 Norman, the forester, 29 ; quoted by 
 Henry Ashton, 181 
 
 Painting and poetry, 10 
 Parliament, appeal to, 140, 146, 266, 310 
 Pattieson, Peter, his Introduction, 1 
 Poor-man-of -mutton, 310 
 Privy council, Scottish, 51 
 
 Ravenswood, Lord Allan, 14 ; funeral 
 of, 19 
 
 Ravenswood, Malise de, 25 ; his picture, 
 167, 293 
 
 Ravenswood, Master of, at his father's 
 funeral, 20 ; rescues Lucy, 41 ; declares 
 himself to Sir W. Ashton, 46 ; visits 
 Tod's Den, 57 ; fights with Bucklaw, 
 61 ; lodges him in Wolf's Crag, 63 ; his 
 thoughts of Lucy, 76 ; accosted by Sir 
 W. Ashton at the hunt, 90; shelters him 
 and Lucy in Wolf's Crag, 93 ; begged 
 by Sir W. Ashton to put awaj' his en- 
 mity, 133, 146, 151; contempt for Craig- 
 engelt, 149 ; warned by Caleb, 157 ; 
 visits Ravenswood, 162 : accompanies 
 Lucy to Old Alice's, 169 ; joins Lucy 
 at the fountain, 174 ; his betrothal, 
 178; his relations with Lucy, 185; 
 bidden leave Ravenswood Castle, 208 ; 
 sees the apparition, 212 ; finds Old 
 Alice dead, 214 ; overhears the hags, 
 216 ; interview with Mortsheugh, 220 ; 
 
 counselled by Marquis of A , 226 ; 
 
 is told the truth about the fire, 240 ; 
 entertained at Girder's, 244 ; letters 
 to the Ashtons, 251 ; Lucy's reply, 
 254 ; interrupts the betrothal, 280 ; 
 upbraids Lucy, 285 ; at her funeral, 
 300 ; dismisses Caleb, .303 ; engulfed in 
 the Kelpie's Flow, 304 
 
 Ravenswood Castle, 14, 23 , saloon at, 
 163 ; terrace before, 198 
 
 Running footmen, 199, 311 
 
 Rutherford, Lord, x 
 
 Stair family, connection with the novel, 
 ix, 307 ; satiric verses on, xiii 
 
 Symson, Andrew, of Kirkinuer, verses, 
 by, xiv 
 
 ' The monk must rise,' 81 
 ' Thou sweetest thing,' 186 
 
INDEX 
 
 S23 
 
 Tinto, Dick, his history, 8 
 Tod's Den, or Hole, 52 
 Trumpeter Marine, 233, 311 
 Turntippet, Lord, 51 ; compelled to dis- 
 gorge, 250 
 
 Wallace Inn, Qandercleugh, 5 
 ' When the last Laird of Ravenswood,' 
 ISA 
 
 Wild cattle, 89 
 
 Winnie, Annie, at Old Alice's, 216 ; at 
 Lucy's wedding, 290 ; at her funeral, 
 298 
 
 Wolf's Crag, identification of, xviii ; de- 
 scription of, 65 ,• banqueting-hall, 69 ; 
 reported burning of, 234 
 
 Wolf's Hope, 113 ; Caleb's requiaitlons 
 
 OD, 118 
 
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