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 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 
 
 HOUSEHOLD EDITION. 
 
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 ST. HON AN 'S WELL. 
 
 B O STON: 
 TICKNOR AND FIELDS 
 
 M DCCC LVIII.
 
 RIVERSIDE, CAMBRIDGE : 
 
 STEREOTYPED AND PRINTED BY 
 
 H. 0. HOOGHTON AND COMPANY.
 
 ST. RONAN'S WELL.
 
 ST. RONAN'S WELL. 
 
 A merry place, 'tis said, in days of yore; 
 
 But something ails it now — the place is cursed. 
 
 Wordsworth. 
 
 INTRODUCTION — (1832.) 
 
 The novel which follows is upon a plan different from 
 any other that the author has ever written, although it is 
 perhaps the most legitimate which relates to this kind of 
 light literature. 
 
 It is intended, in a word — celebrare domestica facta — 
 to give an imitation of the shifting manners of our own 
 time, and paint scenes, the originals of which are daily 
 passing round us, so that a minute's observation may 
 compare the copies with the originals. It must be con- 
 fessed that this style of composition was adopted by the 
 author rather from the tempting circumstance of its offer- 
 ing some novelty in his compositions, and avoiding worn- 
 out characters and positions, than from the hope of 
 rivalling the many formidable competitors who have 
 already won deserved honours in this department. The 
 ladies, in particular, gifted by nature with keen powers 
 of observation and light satire, have been so distinguished
 
 G WAYERLEY NOVELS. 
 
 by these works of talent, that, reckoning from the author- 
 ess of Evelina to her of Marriage, a catalogue might be 
 made, including the brilliant and talented names of Edge- 
 worth, Austin, Charlotte Smith, and others, whose success 
 seems to have appropriated this province of the novel as 
 exclusively their own. It was therefore with a sense of 
 temerity that the author intruded upon a species of com- 
 position which had been of late practised with such 
 distinguished success. This consciousness was lost, how- 
 ever, under the necessity of seeking for novelty, without 
 which it was much to be apprehended, such repeated 
 incursions on his part would nauseate the long indulgent 
 public at the last. 
 
 The scene chosen for the author's little drama of mod- 
 ern life was a mineral spring, such as are to be found in 
 both divisions of Britain, and which are supplied with 
 the usual materials for redeeming health, or driving 
 away care. The invalid often finds relief from his com- 
 plaints, less from the healing virtues of the Spaw itself, 
 than because his system of ordinary life undergoes an 
 entire change, in his being removed from his ledger and 
 account-books — from his legal folios and progresses of 
 title-deeds — from his counters and shelves — from what- 
 ever else forms the main source of his constant anxiety 
 at home, destroys his appetite, mars the custom of his 
 exercise, deranges the digestive powers, and clogs up 
 the springs of life. Thither, too, comes the saunterer, 
 anxious to get rid of that wearisome attendant himself; 
 and thither come both males and females, who, upon a 
 different principle, desire to make themselves double. 
 
 The society of such places is regulated, by their very 
 nature, upon a scheme much more indulgent than that 
 which rules the world of fashion, and the narrow circles
 
 INTRODUCTION TO ST. KONAN S WELL. 7 
 
 of rank in the metropolis. The titles of rank, birth, and 
 fortune, are received at a watering-place without any 
 very strict investigation, as adequate to the purpose for 
 which they are preferred ; and as the situation infers a 
 certain degree of intimacy and sociability for the time, so 
 to whatever heights it may have been carried, it is not 
 understood to imply any duration beyond the length of 
 the season. No intimacy can be supposed more close for 
 the time, and more transitory in its endurance, than that 
 which is attached to a watering-place acquaintance. The 
 novelist, therefore, who fixes upon such a scene for his 
 tale, endeavours to display a species of society, where 
 the strongest contrast of humorous characters and man- 
 ners may be brought to bear on and illustrate each other 
 with less violation of probability, than could be supposed 
 to attend the same miscellaneous assemblage in any other 
 situation. 
 
 In such scenes, too, are frequently mingled characters, 
 not merely ridiculous, but dangerous and hateful. The 
 unprincipled gamester, the heartless fortune-hunter, all 
 those who eke out their means of subsistence by pander- 
 ing to the vices and follies of the rich and gay — who 
 drive, by their various arts, foibles into crimes, and im- 
 prudence into acts of ruinous madness, are to be found 
 where their victims naturally resort, with the same cer- 
 tainty that eagles are gathered together at the place of 
 slaughter. By this the author takes a great advantage 
 for the management of his story, particularly in its darker 
 and more melancholy passages. The impostor, the gam- 
 bler, all who live loose upon the skirts of society, or, 
 like vermin, thrive by its corruptions, are to be found at 
 such retreats, when they easily, and as a matter of 
 course, mingle with these dupes, who might otherwise
 
 8 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 
 
 have escaped their snares. But besides those characters 
 who are actually dangerous to society, a well-frequented 
 watering-place generally exhibits for the amusement of 
 the company, and the perplexity and amazement of the 
 more inexperienced, a sprinkling of persons called by 
 the newspapers eccentric characters — individuals, namely, 
 who, either from some real derangement of their under- 
 standing, or, much more frequently, from an excess of 
 vanity, are ambitious of distinguishing themselves by 
 some striking peculiarity in dress or address, conversa- 
 tion or manners, and perhaps in all. These affectations 
 are usually adopted, like Drawcansir's extravagances, to 
 show they dare, and, I must needs say, those who profess 
 them are more frequently to be found among the English, 
 than among the natives of either of the other two divis- 
 ions of the united kingdoms. The reason probably is,' 
 that the consciousness of wealth, and a sturdy feeling of 
 independence, which generally pervade the English na- 
 tion, are, in a few individuals, perverted into absurdity, 
 or at least peculiarity. The witty Irishman, on the con- 
 trary, adapts his general behaviour to that of the best 
 society, or that which he thinks such ; nor is it any part 
 of the shrewd Scot's national character unnecessarily to 
 draw upon himself public attention. These rules, how- 
 ever, are not without their exceptions ; for we find men 
 of every country playing the eccentric at these independ- 
 ent resorts of the gay and the wealthy, where every one 
 enjoys the license of doing what is good in his own eyes. 
 It scarce needed these obvious remarks to justify a 
 novelist's choice of a watering-place as the scene of 
 a fictitious narrative. Unquestionably it affords every 
 variety of character, mixed together in a manner which 
 cannot, without a breach of probability, be supposed to
 
 INTRODUCTION TO ST. RONAN'S WELL. 9 
 
 exist elsewhere ; neither can it be denied, that in the 
 concourse which such miscellaneous collections of persons 
 afford, events extremely different from those of the quiet 
 routine of ordinary life may, and often do, take place. 
 
 It is not, however, sufficient that a mine be in itself 
 rich and easily accessible ; it is necessary that the engi- 
 neer who explores it should himself, in mining phrase, 
 have an accurate knowledge of the country, and possess 
 the skill necessary to work it to advantage. In this re- 
 spect, the author of St. Ronan's Well could not be 
 termed fortunate. His habits of life had not led him 
 much, of late years at least, into its general or bustling 
 scenes, nor had he mingled often in the society which 
 enables the observer to " shoot folly as it flies." The 
 consequence perhaps was, that the characters wanted that 
 force and precision which can only be given by a writer 
 who is familiarly acquainted with his subject. The au- 
 thor, however, had the satisfaction to chronicle his testi- 
 mony against the practice of gambling, a vice which the 
 devil has contrived to render all his own, since it is de- 
 prived of whatever pleads an apology for other vices, and 
 is founded entirely on the cold-blooded calculation of the 
 most exclusive selfishness. The character of the travel- 
 ler, meddling, self-important, and what the ladies call 
 fussing, but yet generous and benevolent in his purposes, 
 was partly taken from nature. The story, being entirely 
 modern, cannot require much explanation, after what has 
 been here given, either in the shape of notes, or a more 
 prolix introduction. 
 
 It may be remarked, that the English critics, in many 
 instances, though none of great influence, pursued St. 
 Ronan's Well with hue and cry, many of the fraternity 
 giving it as their opinion that the author had exhausted
 
 10 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 
 
 himself, or, as the technical phrase expi'essed it, written 
 himself out ; and as an unusual tract of success too often 
 provokes many persons to mark and exaggerate a slip 
 when it does occur, the author was publicly accused, in 
 prose and verse, of having committed a literary suicide in 
 this unhappy attempt. The voices, therefore, were, for 
 a time, against St. Ronan's on the Southern side of the 
 Tweed. 
 
 In the author's country, it was otherwise. Many of 
 the characters were recognised as genuine Scottish por- 
 traits, and the good fortune which had hitherto attended 
 the productions of the Author of Waverley, did not 
 desert, notwithstanding the ominous vaticinations of its 
 censurers, this new attempt, although out of his ordinary 
 style. 
 
 Abbotsfokd, 1st February, 1832.
 
 ST. RONAN'S WELL. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 AN OLD-WORLD LANDLADY. 
 
 But to make up my tale, 
 She breweth good ale, 
 And thereof maketh sale. 
 
 Skelton. 
 
 Although few, if any, of the countries of Europe 
 have increased so rapidly in wealth and cultivation as 
 Scotland during the last half century, Sultan Mahmoud's
 
 12 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 
 
 owls might nevertheless have found in Caledonia, at any 
 term within that flourishing period, their dowery of 
 ruined villages. Accident or local advantages have, in 
 many instances, transferred the inhabitants of ancient 
 hamlets, from the situations which their predecessors 
 chose, with more respect to security than convenience, 
 to those in which their increasing industry and commerce 
 could more easily expand itself; and hence places which 
 stand distinguished in Scottish history, and which figure 
 in David M'Pherson's excellent historical map, can now 
 only be discerned from the wild moor by the verdure 
 which clothes their site, or, at best, by a few scattered 
 ruins, resembling pinfolds, which mark the spot of their 
 former existence. 
 
 The little village of St. Ronan's, though it had not yet 
 fallen into the state of entire oblivion we have described, 
 was, about twenty years since, fast verging towards it. 
 The situation had something in it so romantic, that it 
 provoked the pencil of every passing tourist ; and we will 
 endeavour, therefore, to describe it in language which 
 can scarcely be less intelligible than some of their 
 sketches, avoiding, however, for reasons which seem to 
 us of weight, to give any more exact indication of the 
 site, than that it is on the southern side of the Forth, and 
 not above thirty miles distant from the English frontier. 
 
 A river of considerable magnitude pours its streams 
 through a narrow vale, varying in breadth from two 
 miles to a fourth of that distance, and which, being com- 
 posed of rich alluvial soil, is, and has long been, enclosed, 
 tolerably well inhabited, and cultivated with all the skill 
 of Scottish agriculture. Either side of this valley is 
 bounded by a chain of hills, which, on the right in par- 
 ticular, may be almost termed mountains. Little brooks
 
 ST. ronan's well. 13 
 
 arising in these ridges, and finding their way to the river, 
 offer each its own little vale to the industry of the culti- 
 vator. Some of them bear fine large trees, which have 
 as yet escaped the axe, and upon the sides of most there 
 are scattered patches and fringes of natural copsewood, 
 above and around which the banks of the stream arise, 
 somewhat desolate in the colder months, but in summer 
 glowing with dark purple heath, or with the golden 
 lustre of the broom and gorse. This is a sort of scenery 
 peculiar to those countries, which abound, like Scotland, 
 in hills and in streams, and where the ti'aveller is ever 
 and anon discovering, in some intricate and unexpected 
 recess, a simple and silvan beauty, which pleases him the 
 more, that it seems to be peculiarly his own property as 
 the first discoverer. 
 
 In one of these recesses, and so near its opening as to 
 command the prospect of the river, the broader valley, 
 and the opposite chain of hills, stood, and, unless neglect 
 and desertion have completed their work, still stands, the 
 ancient and decayed village of St. Ronan's. The site 
 was singularly picturesque, as the straggling street of the 
 village ran up a very steep hill, on the side of which 
 were clustered, as it were upon little terraces, the cot- 
 tages which composed the place, seeming, as in the Swiss 
 towns on the Alps, to rise above each other towards the 
 ruins of an old castle, which continued to occupy the 
 crest of the eminence, and the strength of which had 
 doubtless led the neighbourhood to assemble under its 
 walls for protection. It must, indeed, have been a place 
 of formidable defence, for on the side opposite to the 
 town, its walls rose straight up from the verge of a tre- 
 mendous and rocky precipice, whose base was washed by 
 St. Ronan's Burn, as the brook was entitled. On the
 
 14 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 
 
 southern side, where the declivity was less precipitous, 
 the ground had been carefully levelled into successive 
 terraces, which ascended to the summit of the hill, and 
 were, or rather had been, connected by staircases of 
 stone, rudely ornamented. In peaceful periods these 
 terraces had been occupied by the gardens of the Castle, 
 and in times of siege they added to its security, for each 
 commanded the one immediately below it, so that they 
 could be separately and successively defended, and all 
 were exposed to the fire from the place itself — a massive 
 square tower of the largest size, surrounded, as usual, by 
 lower buildings, and a high embattled wall. On the 
 northern side arose a considerable mountain, of which the 
 descent that lay between the eminence on which the 
 Castle was situated seemed a detached portion, and 
 which had been improved and deepened by three succes- 
 sive huge trenches. Another very deep trench was 
 drawn in front of the main entrance from the east, where 
 the principal gateway formed the termination of the 
 street, which, as we have noticed, ascended from the 
 village, and this last defence completed the fortifications 
 of the tower. 
 
 In the ancient gardens of the Castle, and upon all 
 sides of it excepting the western, which was precipitous, 
 large old trees had found root, mantling the rock and the 
 ancient and ruinous walls with their dusky verdure, and 
 increasing the effect of the shattered pile which towered 
 up from the centre. 
 
 Seated on the threshold of this ancient pile, where the 
 " proud porter " had in former days " rear'd himself," * 
 a stranger had a complete and commanding view of the 
 decayed village, the houses of which, to a fanciful im- 
 
 * See the old ballad of King Estniere, in Percy's Reliques.
 
 ST. RONAN'S "WELL. 15 
 
 agination, might seem as if they had been suddenly ar- 
 rested in hurrying down the precipitous hill, and fixed as 
 if by magic in the whimsical arrangement which they 
 now presented. It was like a sudden pause in one of 
 Amphion's country-dances, when the huts which were to 
 form the future Thebes were jigging it to his lute. But, 
 with such an observer, the melancholy excited by the 
 desolate appearance of the village soon overcame all the 
 lighter frolics of the imagination. Originally constructed 
 on the humble plan used in the building of Scotch cot- 
 tages about a century ago, the greater part of them had 
 been long deserted ; and their fallen roofs, blackened 
 gables, and ruinous walls, showed Desolation's triumph 
 over Poverty. On some huts the rafters, varnished with 
 spot, were still standing, in whole or in part, like skele- 
 tons, and a few, wholly or partially covered with thatch, 
 seemed still inhabited, though scarce habitable ; for the 
 smoke of the peat-fires, which prepared the humble meal 
 of the indwellers, stole upwards, not only from the chim- 
 neys, its regular vent, but from various other crevices in 
 the roofs. Nature, in the meanwhile, always changing, 
 but renewing as she changes, was supplying, by the 
 power of vegetation, the fallen and decaying marks of 
 human labour. Small pollards, which had been formerly 
 planted around the little gardens, had now waxed into 
 huge and high forest-trees ; the fruit-trees had extended 
 their branches over the verges of the little yards, and 
 the hedges had shot up into huge and irregular bushes ; 
 while quantities of dock, and nettles, and hemlock, hid- 
 ing the ruined walls, were busily converting the whole 
 scene of desolation into a picturesque forest bank. 
 
 Two houses in St. Ronan's were still in something like 
 decent repair ; places essential — the one to the spiritual
 
 16 WAVEULEY NOVELS. 
 
 weal of the inhabitants, the other to the accommodation 
 of travellers. These were the clergyman's manse, and 
 the village inn. Of the former we need only say that it 
 formed no exception to the general rule by which the 
 landed proprietors of Scotland seem to proceed in lodg- 
 ing their clergy, not only in the cheapest, but in the ugli- 
 est and most inconvenient house which the genius of 
 masonry can contrive. It had the usual number of chim- 
 neys — two, namely — rising like asses' ears at either end, 
 which answer the purpose for which they were designed 
 as ill as usual. It had all the ordinary leaks and inlets 
 to the fury of the elements, which usually form the sub- 
 ject of the complaints of a Scottish incumbent to his 
 brethren of the Presbytery ; and, to complete the picture, 
 the clergyman being a bachelor, the pigs had unmolested 
 admission to the garden and court-yard, broken windows 
 were repaired with brown paper, and the disordered and 
 squalid appearance of a low farm-house, occupied by a 
 bankrupt tenant, dishonoured the dwelling of one, who, 
 besides his clerical character, was a scholar and a gentle- 
 man, though a little of a humorist. 
 
 Beside the manse stood the kirk of St. Ronan's, a 
 little old mansion with a clay floor, and an assemblage 
 of wretched pews, originally of carved oak, but heedfully 
 clouted with white fir-deal. But the external form of the 
 church was elegant in the outline, having been built in 
 Catholic times, when we cannot deny to the forms of 
 ecclesiastical architecture that grace, which, as good Pro- 
 testants, we refuse to their doctrine. The fabric hardly 
 raised its gray and vaulted roof among the crumbling 
 hills of mortality by which it was surrounded, and was 
 indeed so small in size, and so much lowered in height 
 by the graves on the outside, which ascended half-way
 
 ST. KONAX'S WELL. 17 
 
 up the low Saxon windows, that it might itself have ap- 
 peared only a funeral vault, or mausoleum of larger size. 
 Its little square tower, with the ancient belfry, alone dis- 
 tinguished it from such a monument. But when the 
 gray-headed beadle turned the keys with his shaking 
 hand, the antiquary was admitted into an ancient build- 
 ing, which, from the style of its architecture, and some 
 monuments of the Mowbrays of St. Ronan's, which the 
 old man was accustomed to point out, was generally con- 
 jectured to be as early as the thirteenth century. 
 
 These Mowbrays of St. Ronan's seem to have been at 
 one time a very powerful family. They were allied to, 
 and friends of the house of Douglas, at the time when 
 the overgrown power of that heroic race made the Stew- 
 arts tremble on the Scottish throne. It followed that, 
 when, as our old naif historian expresses it, " no one 
 dared to strive with a Douglas, nor yet with a Douglas's 
 man, for if he did, he was sure to come by the waur," the 
 family of St. Ronan's shared their prosperity, and became 
 lords of almost the whole of the rich valley of which 
 their mansion commanded the prospect. But upon the 
 turning of the tide, in the reign of James II., they 
 became despoiled of the greater part of those fair acqui- 
 sitions, and succeeding events reduced their importance 
 still farther. Nevertheless, they were, in the middle of 
 the seventeenth century, still a family of considerable 
 note ; and Sir Reginald Mowbray, after the unhappy 
 battle of Dunbar, distinguished himself by the obstinate 
 defence of the Castle against the arms of Cromwell, who, 
 incensed at the opposition which he had unexpectedly en- 
 countered in an obscure corner, caused the fortress to be 
 dismantled and blown up with gunpowder. 
 
 After this catastrophe, the old Castle was abandoned 
 vol. xxxm. 2
 
 18 AYAVERLE* NOVELS. 
 
 to ruin ; but Sir Reginald, when, like Allan Ramsay's 
 Sir William Worthy, he returned after the Revolution, 
 built himself a house in the fashion of that later age, 
 which ho prudently suited in size to the diminished for- 
 tunes of his family. It was situated about the middle of 
 the village, whose vicinity was not in those days judged 
 any inconvenience, upon a spot of ground more level 
 than was presented by the rest of the acclivity, where, 
 as we said before, the houses were notched as it were 
 into the side of the steep bank, with little more level 
 ground about them than the spot occupied by their 
 site. But the Laird's house had a court in front and a 
 small garden behind, connected with another garden, 
 which, occupying three terraces, descended, in emulation 
 of the orchards of the old Castle, almost to the banks of 
 the stream. 
 
 The family continued to inhabit this new messuage 
 until about fifty years before the commencement of our 
 history, when it was much damaged by a casual fire ; 
 and the Laird of the day, having just succeeded to a 
 more pleasant and commodious dwelling at the distance 
 of about three miles from the village, determined to 
 abandon the habitation of his ancestors. As he cut down 
 at the same time an ancient rookery, (perhaps to defray 
 the expenses of the migration.) it became a common 
 remark among the country folk, that the decay of St. 
 Ronan's began when Laird Lawrence and the crows flew 
 off. 
 
 The deserted mansion, however, was not consigned to 
 owls and birds of the desert ; on the contrary, for many 
 years it witnessed more fun and festivity than when it 
 had been the sombre abode of a grave Scottish Baron of 
 " auld lang syne." In short, it was converted into an
 
 ST. ROWAN'S "WELL. 19 
 
 inn, and marked by a huge sign, representing on the one 
 side St. Ronan catching hold of the devil's game-leg with 
 his Episcopal crook, as the story may be read in his 
 veracious legend, and on the other the Mowbray arms. 
 It was by far the best frequented public-house in that 
 vicinity ; and a thousand stories were told of the revels 
 which had been held within its walls, and the gambols 
 achieved under the influence of its liquors. All this, 
 however, had long since passed away, according to the 
 lines in my frontispiece. 
 
 "A merry place, 'twas said, in days of yore; 
 
 But something ail'd it now — the place was cursed." 
 
 The worthy couple (servants and favourites of the 
 Mowbray family) who first kept the inn, had died reason- 
 ably wealthy, after long carrying on a flourishing trade, 
 leaving behind them an only daughter. They had ac- 
 quired by degrees not only the property of the inn itself, 
 of which they were originally tenants, but of some re- 
 markably good meadow-land by the side of the brook, 
 which, when touched by a little pecuniary necessity, the 
 Lairds of St. Ronan's had disposed of piecemeal, as the 
 readiest way to portion off a daughter, procure a com- 
 mission for the younger son, and the like emergencies. 
 So that Meg Dods, when she succeeded to her parents, 
 was a considerable heiress, and, as such, had the honour 
 of refusing three topping farmers, two bonnet-lairds, and 
 a horse-couper, who successively made proposals to her. 
 
 Many bets were laid on the horse-couper's success, but 
 the knowing ones were taken in. Determined to ride 
 the fore-horse herself, Meg would admit no helpmate 
 who might soon assert the rights of a master ; and so, in 
 single blessedness, and with the despotism of Queen Bess
 
 20 WAYKKLEY NOVELS. 
 
 herself, she ruled all matters with a high hand, not only 
 over her men-servants and maid-servants, but over the 
 stranger within her gates, who, if he ventured to oppose 
 Meg's sovereign will and pleasure, or desired to have 
 either fare or accommodation different from that which 
 she chose to provide for him, was instantly ejected with 
 that answer which Erasmus tells us silenced all com- 
 plaints in the German inns of his time, Quaere aliud hos- 
 pitium,* or, as Meg expressed it, " Troop aff wi' ye to 
 another public." As this amounted to a banishment in 
 extent equal to sixteen miles from Meg's residence, the 
 unhappy party on whom it was passed, had no other 
 refuge save by deprecating the wrath of his landlady, 
 and resigning himself to her will. It is but justice to 
 Meg Dods to state, that though hers was a severe and 
 almost despotic government, it could not be termed a 
 tyranny, since it was exercised upon the whole for the 
 good of the subject. 
 
 The vaults of the old Laird's cellar had not, even in 
 his own day, been replenished with more excellent wines ; 
 the only difficulty was to prevail on Meg to look for the 
 precise licmor you chose ; — to which it may be added, 
 that she often became restiff when she thought a com- 
 pany had had " as much as did them good," and refused 
 to furnish any more supplies. Then her kitchen was her 
 pride and glory ; she looked to the dressing of every 
 dish herself, and there were some with which she suffered 
 no one to interfere. Such were the cock-a-leeky, and 
 the savoury minced collops, which rivalled in their way 
 
 * In a colloquy of Erasmus, called Diversaria, there is a very un- 
 savoury description of a German inn of the period, where an objection 
 of the guest is answered in the manner expressed in the text — a great 
 sign of want of competition on the road.
 
 ST. eonan's well. 21 
 
 even the veal cutlets of our old friend Mrs. Hall, at Fer- 
 rybridge. Meg's table-linen, bed-linen, and so forth, 
 were always home-made, of the best quality, and in the 
 best order ; and a weary day was that to the chamber- 
 maid in which her lynx eye discovered any neglect of 
 the strict cleanliness which she constantly enforced. In- 
 deed, considering Meg's country and calling, we were 
 never able to account for her extreme and scrupulous 
 nicety, unless by supposing that it afforded her the most 
 apt and frequent pretext for scolding her maids ; an ex- 
 ercise in which she displayed so much eloquence and 
 energy, that we must needs believe it to have been a 
 favourite one.* 
 
 We have only farther to commemorate, the moderation 
 of Meg's reckonings, which, when they closed the ban- 
 quet, often relieved the apprehensions, instead of sadden- 
 ing the heart, of the rising guest. A shilling for breakfast, 
 three shillings for dinner, including a pint of old port, 
 eighteenpence for a snug supper — such were the charges 
 of the inn at Saint Ronan's, under this landlady of the 
 olden world, even after the nineteenth century had com- 
 menced ; and they were ever tendered with the pious 
 recollection, that her good father never charged half so 
 much, but these weary times rendered it impossible for 
 her to make the lawing less.f 
 
 * This circumstance shows of itself, that the Meg Dods of the tale 
 cannot be identified with her namesake Jenny Dods, who kept the inn 
 at Howgare, on the Peebles road ; for Jenny, far different from our 
 heroine, was unmatched as a slattern. 
 
 t This was universally the case in Scotland forty or fifty years ago; 
 and so little was charged for a domestic's living when the author be- 
 came first acquainted with the road, that a shilling or eighteenpence 
 was sufficient board wages for a man-servant, when a crown would 
 not now answer the purpose. It is true the cause of these reasonable
 
 22 WAVKULEY NOVELS. 
 
 Notwithstanding all these excellent and rare properties, 
 the inn at St. Ronan's shared the decay of the village to 
 which it belonged. This was owing to various circum- 
 stances. The high-road had been turned aside from the 
 place, the steepness of the street being murder (so the 
 postilions declared) to their post-horses. It was thought 
 that Meg's stern refusal to treat them with liquor, or to 
 connive at their exchanging for porter and whisky the 
 corn which should feed their cattle, had no small influence 
 on the opinion of those respectable gentlemen, and that a 
 little cutting and levelling would have made the ascent 
 easy enough ; but let that pass. This alteration of the 
 highway was an injury which Meg did not easily forgive 
 to the country gentlemen, most of whom she had recol- 
 lected when children. " Their fathers," she said, " wad 
 not have done the like of it to a lone woman." Then 
 the decay of the village itself, which had formerly con- 
 tained a set of feuars and bonnet-lairds, who under the 
 name of the Chirupping Club, contrived to drink two- 
 penny, qualified with brandy or whisky, at least twice or 
 thrice a-week, was some small loss. 
 
 The temper and manners of the landlady scared away 
 
 charges rested upon a principle equally unjust to the landlord, and 
 inconvenient to the guest. The landlord did not expect to make any- 
 thing upon the charge for eating which his bill contained ; in consid- 
 eration of which, the guest was expected to drink more wine than 
 might be convenient or agreeable to him, "for the good," as it was 
 called, "of the house." The landlord indeed was willing and ready to 
 assist, in this duty, every stranger who came within his gates. Other 
 things were ill proportion. A charge for lodging, fire, and candle, 
 was long a thing unheard of in Scotland. A shilling to the housemaid 
 settled all such considerations. I see, from memorandums of 1790, 
 that a young man, with two ponies and a serving-lad, might travel 
 from the house of one Meg Dods to another, through most part of 
 Scotland, for about five or six shillings a-day.
 
 ST. ronan's well. 23 
 
 all customers of that numerous class, who will not allow 
 originality to be an excuse for the breach of decorum, 
 and who, little accustomed perhaps to attendance at home, 
 love to play the great man at an inn, and to have a cer- 
 tain number of bows, deferential speeches, and apologies, 
 in answer to the G — d — n ye's which they bestow on the 
 house, attendance, and entertainment. Unto those who 
 commenced this sort of barter in the Clachan of St. 
 Ronan's, well could Meg Dods pay it back, in their 
 own coin ; and glad they were to escape from the house 
 with eyes not quite scratched out, and ears not more 
 deafened than if they had been within hearing of a 
 pitched battle. 
 
 Nature had formed honest Meg for such encounters ; 
 and as her noble soul delighted in them, so her outward 
 properties were in what Tony Lumpkin calls a concatena- 
 tion accordingly. She had hair of a brindled colour, 
 betwixt black and gray, which was apt to escape in elf- 
 locks from under her mutch when she was thrown into 
 violent agitation — long skinny hands, terminated by stout 
 talons — gray eyes, thin lips, a robust person, a broad, 
 though flat chest, capital wind, and a voice that could 
 match a choir of fish-women. She was accustomed to 
 say of herself, in her more gentle moods, that her bark 
 was worse than her bite ; but what teeth could have 
 matched a tongue, which, when in full career, is vouched 
 to have been heard from the Kirk to the Castle of St. 
 Ronan's ? 
 
 These notable gifts, however, had no charms for the 
 travellers of these light and giddy-paced times, and Meg's 
 inn became less and less frequented. What carried the 
 evil to the uttermost was, that a fanciful lady of rank in 
 the neighbourhood chanced to recover of some imaginary
 
 24 W WEREEY NOVELS. 
 
 complaint by the use of a mineral well about a mile and 
 a half from the village ; a fashionable doctor was found 
 to write an analysis of the healing waters, with a list of 
 sundry cures ; a speculative builder took land in feu, and 
 erected lodging-houses, shops, and even streets. At 
 length a tontine subscription was obtained to erect an 
 inn, which, for the more grace, was called a hotel ; and 
 so the desertion of Meg Dods became general.* 
 
 She had still, however, her friends and well-wishers, 
 many of whom thought, that as she was a lone woman, 
 and known to be well to pass in the world, she would act 
 
 * In Scotland, a village is erected upon a species of landright, very- 
 different from the copyhold so frequent in England. Every alienation 
 or sale of landed property must be made in the shape of a feudal con- 
 veyance, and the party who acquires it holds thereby an absolute 
 and perfect right of property in the fief, while he discharges the 
 stipulations of the vassal, and, above all, pays the feu-duties. The 
 vassal or tenant of the site of the smallest cottage holds his possession 
 as absolutely as the proprietor, of whose large estate it is perhaps 
 scarce a perceptible portion. By dint of excellent laws, the sasines 
 or deeds of delivery of such fiefs, are placed on record in such order, 
 that every burden affecting the property can be seen for payment of a 
 very moderate fee ; so that a person proposing to lend money upon it, 
 knows exactly the nature and extent of his security'. 
 
 From the nature of these landrights being so explicit and secure, 
 the Scottish people have been led to entertain a jealousy of building- 
 leases, of however long duration. Not long ago, a great landed pro- 
 prietor took the latter mode of disposing of some ground near a 
 thriving town in the west country. The number of years in the lease 
 was settled at nine hundred and ninety-nine. All was agreed to, and 
 the deeds were ordered to be drawn. But the tenant, as he walked 
 down the avenue, began to reflect that the lease, though so very long 
 as to be almost perpetual, nevertheless had a termination; and that 
 after the lapse of a thousand years, lacking one, the connexion of his 
 family and representatives with the estate would cease. He took a 
 qualm at the thought of the loss to be sustained by his posterity a 
 thousand years hence; and going back to the house of the gentleman 
 who feued the ground, he demanded, and readily obtained, the ad- 
 ditional term of fifty years to be added to the lease.
 
 ST. ronan's well. 25 
 
 wisely to retire from public life, and take down a sign 
 which had no longer fascination for guests. But Meg's 
 spirit scorned submission direct or implied. " Her 
 father's door," she said, " should be open to the road, 
 till her father's bairn should be streekit and carried out 
 at it with her feet foremost. It was not for the profit — 
 there was little profit at it ; — profit ? — there was a dead 
 loss ; — but she wad not be dung by any of them. They 
 maun hae a hottle,* maun they ? — and an honest public 
 canna serve them ! They may hottle that likes ; but 
 they shall see that Lucky Dods can hottle on as lang as 
 the best of them — ay, though they had made a Tamteen 
 of it, and linkit aw their breaths of lives, whilk are in 
 their nostrils, on end of ilk other like a string of wild- 
 geese, and the langest liver bruick a', (whilk was sinful 
 presumption,) she would match ilk ane of them as lang 
 as her ain wind held out." Fortunate it was for Meg, 
 since she had formed this doughty resolution, that 
 although her inn had decayed in custom, her land had 
 ri?en in value in a degree which more than compensated 
 the balance on the wrong side of her books, and, joined 
 to her usual providence and economy, enabled her to act 
 up to her lofty purpose. 
 
 She prosecuted her trade too with every attention to 
 its diminished income ; shut up the windows of one half 
 of her house, to baffle the tax-gatherer ; retrenched her 
 furniture ; discharged her pair of post-horses, and pen- 
 sioned off the old hump-backed postilion who drove them, 
 retaining his services, however, as an assistant to a still 
 more aged hostler. To console herself for restrictions by 
 which her pride was secretly wounded, she agreed with 
 
 * This Gallic word (hotel) was first introduced in Scotland during 
 the author's childhood, and was so pronounced by the lower class.
 
 2G WAVK11LEY NOVELS. 
 
 the celebrated Dick Tinto to repaint her father's sign, 
 which had become rather undecipherable ; and Dick 
 accordingly gilded the Bishop's crook, and augmented 
 the horrors of the Devil's aspect, until it became a terror 
 hi all the younger fry of the school-house, and a sort of 
 visible illustration of the terrors of the arch-enemy, with 
 which the minister endeavoured to impress their infant 
 minds. 
 
 Under this renewed symbol of her profession, Meg 
 Dods, or Meg Dorts, as she was popularly termed, on 
 account of her refractory humours, was still patronized by 
 some steady customers. Such were the members of the 
 Killnakelty Hunt, once famous on the turf and in the 
 field, but now a set of venerable gray-headed sportsmen, 
 who had sunk from fox-hounds to basket-beagles and 
 coursing, and who made an easy canter on their quiet 
 nags a gentle induction to a dinner at Meg's. " A set of 
 honest decent men they were," Meg said ; " had their 
 sang and their joke — and what for no ? Their bind was 
 just a Scots pint over-head, and a tappit-hen to the bill, 
 and no man ever saw them the waur o't. It was thae 
 cockle-brained callants of the present day that would be 
 mail* owerta'en with a puir quart than douce folks were 
 with a magnum." 
 
 Then there was a set of ancient brethren of the ansrle 
 from Edinburgh, who visited St. Ronan's frequently in 
 the spring and summer, a class of guests peculiarly 
 acceptable to Meg, who permitted them more latitude in 
 her premises than she was known to allow to any other 
 body. " They were," she said, " pawky auld carles, 
 that kend whilk side their bread was buttered upon. Ye 
 never kend of ony o' them ganging to the spring, as they 
 behoved to ca' the stinking well yonder. — Na, na — they
 
 ST. roxan's well. 27 
 
 were up in the morning — had their parritch, wi' maybe 
 a thimblefull of brandy, and then awa' up into the hills, 
 eat their bit cauld meat on the heather, and came hame 
 at e'en wi' the creel full of caller trouts, and had them to 
 their dinner, and their quiet cogue of ale, and their drap 
 punch, and were set singing their catches and glees, as 
 they ca'd them, till ten o'clock, and then to bed, wi' God 
 bless ye — and what for no ? " 
 
 Thirdly, we may commemorate some ranting blades, 
 who also came from the metropolis to visit St. Ronan's, 
 attracted by the humours of Meg, and still more by the 
 excellence of her liquor, and the cheapness of her reckon- 
 ings. These were members of the Helter Skelter Club, 
 of the Wildfire Club, and other associations formed for 
 the express purpose of getting rid of care and sobriety. 
 Such dashers occasioned many a racket in Meg's house, 
 and many a bourasque in Meg's temper. Various were 
 the arts of flattery and violence by which they endeav- 
 oured to get supplies of liquor, when Meg's conscience 
 told her they had had too much already. Sometimes 
 they failed, as when the croupier of the Helter Skelter 
 got himself scalded with the mulled wine, in an unsuccess- 
 ful attempt to coax this formidable virago by a salute ; 
 and the excellent president of the Wildfire received a 
 broken head from the keys of the cellar, as he endeav- 
 oured to possess himself of these emblems of authority. 
 But little did these dauntless officials care for the exu- 
 berant frolics of Meg's temper, which were to them only 
 " pretty Fanny's way " — the dulces Amaryllidis tree. 
 And Meg, on her part, though she often called them 
 " drunken ne'er-do-weels, and thorough-bred High Street 
 blackguards," allowed no other person to speak ill of 
 them in her hearing. " They were daft callants," she
 
 28 AVAVERLEY NOVELS. 
 
 said, " and that was all — when the drink was in, the wit 
 was out — ye could not put an auld head upon young 
 shouthers — a young cowt will canter, be it up-hill or 
 down — and what for no ? " was her uniform conclusion. 
 
 Nor must we omit, among Meg's steady customers, 
 " faithful amongst the unfaithful found," the copper- 
 nosed sheriff-clerk of the county, who, when summoned 
 by official duty to that district of the shire, warmed by 
 recollections of her double-brewed ale, and her generous 
 Antigua, always advertised that his " Prieves," or 
 " Comptis," or whatever other business was in hand, 
 were to proceed on such a day and hour, ' ; within the 
 house of Margaret Dods, vintner in St. Ronan's." 
 
 We have only farther to notice Meg's mode of con- 
 ducting herself towards chance travellers, who, knowing 
 nothing of nearer or more fashionable accommodations, 
 or perhaps consulting rather the state of their purse than 
 of their taste, stumbled upon her house of entertainment. 
 Her reception of these was as precarious as the hospi- 
 tality of a savage nation to sailors shipwrecked on their 
 coast. If the guests seemed to have made her mansion 
 their free choice — or if she liked their appearance (and 
 her taste was very capricious) — above all, if they seemed 
 pleased with what they got, and little disposed to criticise 
 or give trouble, it was all very well. But if they had 
 come to St. Ronan's because the house at the Well was 
 full — or if she disliked what the sailor calls the cut of 
 their jib — or if, above all, they were critical about their 
 accommodations, none so likely as Meg to give them 
 what in her country is called a sloan. In fact, she 
 reckoned such persons a part of that ungenerous and un- 
 grateful public, for whose sake she was keeping her 
 house open at a dead loss, and who had left her, as it 
 were, a victim to her patriotic zeal.
 
 ST. roxan's well. 29 
 
 Hence arose the different reports concerning the little 
 inn of St. Ronan's, which some favoured travellers praised 
 as the neatest and most comfortable old-fashioned house 
 in Scotland, where you had good attendance, and good 
 cheer, at moderate rates ; while others, less fortunate, 
 could only talk of the darkness of the rooms, the homeli- 
 ness of the old furniture, and the detestable bad humour 
 of Meg Dotls, the landlady. 
 
 Reader, if you come from the more sunny side of the 
 Tweed — or even if, being a Scot, you have had the 
 advantage to be born within the last twenty-five years, 
 you may be induced to think this portrait of Queen Eliz- 
 abeth, in Dame Quickly's piqued hat and green apron, 
 somewhat overcharged in the features. But I appeal to 
 my own contemporaries, who have known Avheel-road, 
 bridle-way, and foot-path, for thirty years, whether they 
 do not, every one of them, remember Meg Dods — or 
 somebody very like her. Indeed, so much is this the 
 case, that, about the period I mention, I should have been 
 afraid to have rambled from the Scottish metropolis, in 
 almost any direction, lest I had lighted upon some one of 
 the sisterhood of Dame Quickly, who might suspect me 
 of having showed her up to the public in the character of 
 Meg Dods. At present, though it is possible that some 
 one or two of this peculiar class of wild-cats may still 
 exist, their talons must be much impaired by age ; and I 
 think they can do little more than sit, like the Giant Pope, 
 in the Pilgrim's Progress, at the door of their unfre- 
 quented caverns, and grin at the pilgrims over whom 
 they used formerly to execute their despotism.
 
 30 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE GUEST. 
 
 Quis novus bic hospes? 
 
 Dido apud Viegilium. 
 
 Ch'ani-niaid ! The Gernman in the front parlour ! 
 
 Boots's free Translation op the Eneid. 
 
 It was on a fine summer's clay that a solitary travel- 
 ler rode under the old-fashioned archway, and alighted in 
 the court-yard of Meg Dods's inn, and delivered the bridle 
 of his horse to the hump-backed postilion. " Bring my 
 saddle-bags," he said, " into the house — or stay — I am 
 abler, I think, to carry them than you." He then as- 
 sisted the poor meagre groom to unbuckle the straps 
 which secured the humble and now despised convenience, 
 and meantime gave strict charges that his horse should 
 be unbridled, and put into a clean and comfortable stall, 
 the girths slacked, and a cloth cast over his loins ; but 
 that the saddle should not be removed until he himself 
 came to see him dressed. 
 
 The companion of his travels seemed in the hostler's 
 eye deserving of his care, being a strong active horse, fit 
 either for the road or field, but rather high in bone from 
 a long journey, though from the state of his skin it ap- 
 peared the utmost care had been bestowed to keep him in 
 condition. While the groom obeyed the stranger's direc-
 
 ST. ronan's well. 31 
 
 tions, the latter, with the saddle-bags laid over his arm, 
 entered the kitchen of the inn. 
 
 Here he found the landlady herself in none of her 
 most blessed humours. The cookmaid was abroad on 
 some errand, and Meg, in a close review of the kitchen 
 apparatus, was making the unpleasant discovery, that 
 trenchers had been broken or cracked, pots and sauce- 
 pans not so accurately scoured as her precise notions of 
 cleanliness required, which, joined to other detections of 
 a more petty description, stirred her bile in no small 
 degree ; so that while she disarranged and arranged the 
 bink, she maundered, in an under tone, complaints and 
 menaces against the absent delinquent. 
 
 The entrance of a guest did not induce her to suspend 
 this agreeable amusement — she just glanced at him as he 
 entered, then turned her back short on him, and contin- 
 ued her labour and her soliloquy of lamentation. Truth 
 is, she thought she recognised in the person of the stran- 
 ger, one of those useful envoys of the commercial com- 
 munity, called by themselves and the waiters, Travellers, 
 par excellence — by others, Riders and Bagmen. Now 
 against this class of customers Meg had peculiar preju- 
 dices ; because, there being no shops in the old village 
 of St. Ronan's, the said commercial emissaries, for the 
 convenience of their traffic, always took up their abode 
 at the New Inn, or Hotel, in the rising and rival village 
 called St. Ronan's Well, unless when some straggler, by 
 chance or dire necessity, was compelled to lodge himself 
 at the Auld Town, as the place of Meg's residence began 
 to be generally termed. She had, therefore, no sooner 
 formed the hasty conclusion that the individual in ques- 
 tion belonged to this obnoxious class, than she resumed 
 her former occupation, and continued to soliloquize and
 
 32 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 
 
 apostrophize her absent handmaidens, without even ap- 
 pearing sensible of his presence. 
 
 " The huzzy Beenie — the jaud Eppie — the deil's buekie 
 of a callant ! — Another plate gane — they'll break me out 
 of house and ha' ! " 
 
 The traveller, who, with his saddle-bags rested on the 
 back of a chair, had waited in silence for some note of 
 welcome, now saw that ghost or no ghost he must speak 
 first, if he intended to have any notice from his landlady. 
 "You are my old acquaintance, Mistress Margaret 
 Dods ? " said the stranger. 
 
 " What for no ? — and wha are ye that speers ? " said 
 Meg, in the same breath, and began to rub a brass candle- 
 stick with more vehemence than before — the dry tone in 
 which she spoke indicating plainly, how little concern she 
 took in the conversation. 
 
 " A traveller, good Mistress Dods, who comes to take 
 up his lodgings here for a day or two." 
 
 " I am thinking ye will be mista'en," said Meg ; " there's 
 nae room for bags or jaugs here — ye've mista'en your 
 road, neighbour — ye maun e'en bundle yoursell a bit far- 
 ther down hill." 
 
 " I see you have not got the letter I sent you, Mistress 
 Dods ? " said the guest. 
 
 " How should I, man ? " answered the hostess; "they 
 have ta'en awa the post-office from us — moved it down till 
 the Spawell yonder, as they ca'd." 
 
 " Why, that is but a step off",' observed the guest. 
 " Ye will get there the sooner," answered the hostess. 
 " Nay, but," said the guest, " if you had sent there for 
 
 my letter, you would have learned " 
 
 " I'm no wanting to learn ony thing at my years," said 
 Me"-. " If folk have ony thing to write to me about, they
 
 st. eonan's well. 33 
 
 may gie the letter to John Hislop, the carrier, that has 
 used the road these forty years. As for the letters at the 
 post-mistress's, as they ca' her, down by yonder, they may 
 bide in her shop-window, wi' the snaps and bawbee rows 
 till Beltane, or I loose them. I'll never file my fingers 
 with them. Post -mistress, indeed ! — Upsetting Cutty ! 
 I mind her fou weel when she dree'd penance for ante- 
 nup " 
 
 Laughing, but interrupting Meg in good time for the 
 character of the post-mistress, the stranger assured her 
 he had sent his fishing-rod and trunk to her confidential 
 friend the carrier, and that he sincerely hoped she would 
 not turn an old acquaintance out of her premises, especi- 
 ally as he believed he could not sleep in a bed within five 
 miles of St. Ronan's, if he knew that her Blue room was 
 unengaged. 
 
 " Fishing-rod ! — Auld acquaintance ! — Blue room ! " 
 echoed Meg, in some surprise ; and, facing round upon 
 the stranger, and examining him with some interest and 
 curiosity, — " Ye'll be nae bag-man, then, after a' ? " 
 
 "No," said the traveller; "not since I have laid the 
 saddle-bags out of my hand." 
 
 " Weel, I canna say but I am glad of that — I canna 
 bide their yanking way of knapping English at every 
 word. — I have kent decent lads amang them too — What 
 for no ? — But that was when they stoj)ped up here whiles, 
 like other douce folk ; but since they gaed down, the hail 
 flight of them, like a string of wild-geese, to the new- 
 fashioned bottle yonder, I am told there are as mony 
 hellicate tricks played in the travellers' room, as they be- 
 hove to call it, as if it were fou of drunken young lairds." 
 
 " That is because they have not you to keep good 
 order among them, Mistress Margaret." 
 
 VOL. XXXIII. 3
 
 34 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 
 
 " Ay, lad ? " replied Meg ; " ye are a fine blaw-in-my- 
 lug, to think to cuitle me off sae cleverly ! " And, facing 
 about upon her guest, she honoured him with a more close 
 and curious investigation than she had at first designed to 
 bestow upon him. 
 
 All that she remarked was in her opinion rather 
 favourable to the stranger. lie was a well-made man, 
 rather above than under the middle size, and apparently 
 betwixt five-and-twenty and thirty years of age — for, 
 although he might, at first glance, have passed for one 
 who had attained the latter period, yet, on a nearer ex- 
 amination, it seemed as if the burning sun of a warmer 
 climate than Scotland, and perhaps some fatigue, both of 
 body and mind, had imprinted the marks of care and of 
 manhood upon his countenance, without abiding the course 
 of years. His eyes and teeth were excellent, and his 
 other features, though they could scarce be termed hand- 
 some, expressed sense and acuteness ; he bore, in his 
 aspect, that ease and composure of manner, equally void 
 of awkwardness and affectation, which is said emphati- 
 cally to mark the gentleman ; and, although neither the 
 plainness of his dress, nor the total want of the usual 
 attendants, allowed Meg to suppose him a wealthy man, 
 she had little doubt that he was above the rank of her 
 lodgers in general. Amidst these observations, and while 
 she was in the course of making them, the good landlady 
 was embarrassed with various obscure recollections of 
 having seen the object of them formerly ; but when, or 
 on what occasion, she was quite unable to call to remem- 
 brance. She was particularly puzzled by the cold and 
 sarcastic expression of a countenance, which she could 
 not by any means reconcile with the recollections which 
 it awakened. At length she said, with as much courtesy
 
 ST. ROXANS WELL. 35 
 
 as she was capable of assuming, — " Either I have seen 
 you before, sir, or some ane very like ye ? — Ye ken the 
 Blue room, too, and you a stranger in these parts ? " 
 
 " Not so much a stranger as you may suppose, Meg," 
 said the guest, assuming a more intimate tone, " when I 
 call myself Frank Tyrrel." 
 
 " Tirl ! " exclaimed Meg, with a tone of wonder — " It's 
 impossible ! You cannot be Francie Tirl, the wild cal- 
 lant that was fishing and bird-nesting here seven or ei«ht 
 years syne — it canna be — Francie was but a callant ! " 
 
 " But add seven or eight years to that boy's life, Meg," 
 said the stranger, gravely, ; ' and you will find you have 
 the man who is now before you." 
 
 " Even sae ! " said Meg, with a glance at the reflection 
 of her own countenance in the copper coffee-pot, which 
 she had scoured so brightly that it did the office of a 
 mirror — "Just e'en sae — but folk maun grow auld or 
 die. — But, Mr. Tirl, for I maunna ca' ye Francie now, I 
 am thinking " 
 
 " Call me what you please, good dame," said the stran- 
 ger ; it has been so long since I heard any one call me 
 by a name that sounded like former kindness, that such 
 a one is more agreeable to me than a lord's title would 
 be." 
 
 " Weel, then, Maister Francie— if it be no offence to 
 you — I hope ye are no a Nabob ? " 
 
 " Not I, I can safely assure you, my old friend ; — but 
 what an I were?" 
 
 " Naething — only maybe I might bid ye gang farther, 
 and be waur served. — Nabobs, indeed! the country's 
 plagued wi' them. They have raised the price of eggs 
 and pootry for twenty miles round— But what is my 
 business ? — They use almaist a' of them the Well down
 
 3G WAVERLEY NOVELS. 
 
 by — they need it, ye ken for the clearing of their copper 
 complexions, that need scouring as much as my sauce- 
 pans, that, naebody can clean but mysell." 
 
 " Well, my good friend," said Tyrrel, " the upshot of 
 all this is, I hope, that I am to stay and have dinner here ?" 
 
 " What for no ? " replied Mrs. Dods. 
 
 "And that I am to have the Blue room for a night or 
 two — perhaps longer ? " 
 
 "I dinnaken that," said the dame. — "The Blue room 
 is the best — and they that get neist best are no ill aff in 
 this warld." 
 
 " Arrange it as you will," said the stranger, " I leave 
 the whole matter to you, mistress. — Meantime, I will go 
 see after my horse." 
 
 " The merciful man," said Meg, when her guest had 
 left the kitchen, " is merciful to his beast. — He had aye 
 something about him by ordinar, that callant — But eh, 
 sirs ! there is a sair change on his cheek-haffit since I 
 saw him last ! — He sail no want a good dinner for auld 
 lang syne, that I'se engage for." 
 
 Meg set about the necessary preparations with all the 
 natural energy of her disposition, which was so much 
 exerted upon her culinary cares, that her two maids, on 
 their return to the house, escaped the bitter reprimand 
 which she had been previously conning over, in reward 
 for their alleged slatternly negligence. Nay, so far did 
 she carry her complaisance, that when Tyrrel crossed the 
 kitchen to recover his saddle-bags, she formally rebuked 
 Eppie for an idle taupie, for not carrying the gentleman's 
 things to his room. 
 
 " I thank you, mistress," said Tyrrel ; " but I have some 
 drawings and colours in these saddle-bags, and I always 
 like to carry them myself."
 
 st. ronan's well. 37 
 
 " Ay, and are you at the painting trade yet ? " said 
 Meg ; " an unco slaister ye used to make with it lang 
 syne." 
 
 "I cannot live without it," said Tyrrel ; and, taking 
 the saddle-bags, was formally inducted by the maid into 
 a snug apartment, where he soon had the satisfaction to 
 behold a capital dish of minced collops, with vegetables, 
 and a jug of excellent ale, placed on the table by the 
 careful hand of Meg herself. He could do no less, in 
 acknowledgment of the honour, than ask Meg for a bottle 
 of the yellow seal, " if there was any of that excellent 
 claret still left." 
 
 " Left ? — ay is there, walth of it," said Meg ; " I dinna 
 gie it to every body — Ah ! Maister Tirl, ye have not got 
 owre your auld tricks ! — I am sure, if ye are painting 
 for your leeving. as you say, a little rum and water would 
 come cheaper, and do ye as much good. But ye maun 
 hae your ain way the day, nae doubt, if ye should never 
 have it again." 
 
 Away trudged Meg, her keys clattering as she went, 
 and after much rummaging, returned with such a bottle 
 of claret as no fashionable tavern could have produced, 
 were it called for by a duke, or at a duke's price ; and 
 she seemed not a little gratified when her guest assured 
 her that he had not yet forgotten its excellent flavour. 
 She retired after these acts of hospitality, and left the 
 stranger to enjoy in quiet the excellent matters which she 
 had placed before him. 
 
 But there was that on Tyrrel's mind which defied the 
 enlivening power of good cheer and of wine, which only 
 maketh man's heart glad when that heart has no secret 
 oppression to counteract its influence. Tyrrel found him- 
 self on a spot which he had loved in that delightful
 
 38 "WAVKRLEY NOVELS. 
 
 season, when youth and high spirits awaken all those 
 flattering promises which are so ill kept to manhood. 
 He drew his chair into the embrasure of the old-fash- 
 ioned window, and throwing up the sash to enjoy the 
 fresh air, suffered his thoughts to return to former days, 
 while his eyes wandered over objects which they had 
 not looked upon for several eventful years. He could 
 behold beneath his eye, the lower part of the decayed 
 village, as its ruins peeped from the umbrageous shelter 
 with which they were shrouded. Still lower down, upon 
 the little holm which formed its churchyard, was seen the 
 Kirk of St. Ronan's ; and looking yet farther, towards 
 the junction of St. Ronan's Burn with the river which 
 traversed the larger dale, or valley, he could see, whit- 
 ened by the western sun, the rising houses, which were 
 either newly finished or in the act of being built, about 
 the medicinal spring. 
 
 " Time changes all around us," such was the course 
 of natural though trite reflection, which flowed upon 
 Tyrrel's mind ; " wherefore should loves and friendships 
 have a longer date than our dwellings and our monu- 
 ments ? " As he indulged these sombre recollections, his 
 officious landlady disturbed their tenor by her entrance. 
 
 " I was thinking to offer you a dish of tea, Maister 
 Francie, just for the sake of auld lang syne, and I'll gar 
 the quean Beenie bring it here, and mask it mysell. — 
 But ye arena done with your wine yet ? ' 
 
 " I am indeed, Mrs. Dods," answered Tyrrel ; " and I 
 beg you will remove the bottle." 
 
 " Remove the bottle, and the wine no half drunk 
 out ! " said Meg, displeasure lowering on her brow ; " I 
 hope there is nae fault to be found wi' the wine, Maister 
 Tirl ? "
 
 ST. ronan's well. 39 
 
 To this answer, which was put in a tone resembling 
 defiance, Tyrrel submissively replied, by declaring " the 
 claret not pnly unexceptionable, but excellent." 
 
 " And what for dinna ye drink it, then ? " said Meg, 
 sharply ; " folk should never ask for mair liquor than 
 they can mak a gude use of. Maybe ye think we have 
 the fashion of the table-dot, as they ca' their new-fangled 
 ordinary down-by yonder, where a' the bits of vinegar 
 cruets are put awa into an awmry, as they tell me, and 
 ilk ane wi' the bit dribbles of syndings in it, and a paper 
 about the neck o't, to show which of the customers is 
 aught it — there they stand like doctor's drogs — and no 
 an honest Scottish mutchkin will ane o' their viols baud, 
 granting it were at the fouest." 
 
 " Perhaps," said Tyrrel, willing to indulge the spleen 
 and prejudice of his old acquaintance, " perhaps the wine 
 is not so good as to make full measure desirable." 
 
 " Ye may say that, lad — and yet them that sell it 
 might afford a gude penniworth, for they hae it for the 
 making — maist feck of it ne'er saw France or Portugal. 
 But as I was saying — this is no ane of their new-fangled 
 places, where wine is put by for them that canna drink 
 it — when the cork's drawn the bottle maun be drunk out 
 — and what for no ? — unless it be corkit." 
 
 " I agree entirely, Meg," said her guest ; " but my ride 
 to-day has somewhat heated me — and I think the dish of 
 tea you promise me, will do me more good than to finish 
 toy bottle." 
 
 " Na, then, the best I can do for you is to put it by, to 
 be sauce for the wild-duck the morn ; for I think ye said 
 ye were to bide here for a day or twa." 
 
 " It is my very purpose, Meg, unquestionably," replied 
 Tyrrel.
 
 40 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 
 
 " Sae be it then," said Mrs. Dods ; " and then the 
 liquor's no lost — it has been seldom sic claret as that has 
 simmered in a saucepan, let me tell you that, neighbour ; 
 — and 1 mind the day, when headach or nae headach, ye 
 wad hae been at the hinder-end of that bottle, and maybe 
 anither, if ye could have gotten it wiled out of me. But 
 then ye had your cousin to help you — Ah ! he was a 
 blythe bairn that Valentine Bulmer ! — Ye were a canty 
 callant too, Maister Francie, and muckle ado I had to 
 keep ye baith in order when ye were on the ramble. 
 But ye were a thought doucer than Valentine — But O ! 
 he was a bonny laddie ! — wi' e'en like diamonds, cheeks 
 like roses, a head like a heathertap — he was the first I 
 ever saw wear a crap, as they ca' it, but a' body cheats 
 the barber now — and he had a laugh that wad hae raised 
 the dead ! — What wi' flyting on him, and what wi' laugh- 
 ing at him, there was nae minding ony other body when 
 that Valentine was in the house. — And how is your 
 cousin, Valentine Bulmer, Maister Francie ? " 
 
 Tyrrel looked down, and only answered with a sigh. 
 
 " Ay — and is it even sae ? " said Meg ; " and has the 
 puir bairn been sae soon removed frae this fashious 
 warld ? — Ay — ay — we maun a' gang ae gate — crackit 
 quart-stoups and geisen'd barrels — leaky quaighs are we 
 a', and canna keep in the liquor of life — Ohon, sirs ! — 
 Was the puir lad Bulmer frae Bu'mer Bay, where they 
 land the Hollands, think ye, Maister Francie ? — They 
 whiles rin in a pickle tea there too — I hope that is good 
 that I have made you, Maister Francie ? " 
 
 " Excellent, my good dame," said Tyrrel ; but it was 
 in a tone of voice which intimated that she had pressed 
 upon a subject which awakened some unpleasant reflec- 
 tions.
 
 ST. ROSAX'S WELL. 41 
 
 " And when did this puir lad die ? " continued Meg, 
 who was not without her share of Eve's qualities, and 
 wished to know something concerning what seemed to 
 affect her guest so particularly ; but he disappointed her 
 purpose, and at the same time awakened another train 
 of sentiment in her mind, by turning again to the window, 
 and looking upon the distant buildings of St. Ronan's 
 Well. As if he had observed for the first time these 
 new objects, he said to Mistress Dods, in an indifferent 
 tone, " You have got some gay new neighbours yonder, 
 Mistress." 
 
 " Neighbours," said Meg, her wrath beginning to arise, 
 as it always did upon any allusion to this sore subject — 
 " Ye may ca' them neighbours, if ye like — but the deil 
 flee awa wi' the neighbourhood for Mejj Dods ! " 
 
 " I suppose," said Tyrrel, as if he did not observe her 
 displeasure, " that yonder is the Fox Hotel they told me 
 of?" 
 
 ; ' The Fox ! " said Meg ; "lam sure it is the fox that 
 has carried off a' my geese. — I might shut up house, 
 Maister Francie, if it was the thing I lived by — me that 
 has seen a' our gentlefolks' bairns, and gien them snaps 
 and sugar-biscuit maist of them wi' my ain hand ! They 
 wad hae seen my father's roof-tree fa' down and smoor 
 me before they wad hae gien a boddle a-piece to have 
 propped it up — but they could a' link out their fifty 
 pounds ower head to bigg a hottle at the Well yonder. 
 And muckle they hae made o't — the bankrupt body, 
 Sandie Lawson, hasna paid them a bawbee of four terms' 
 rent." 
 
 " Surely, mistress, I think if the Well became so fa- 
 mous for its cures, the least the gentlemen could have 
 done was to make you the priestess."
 
 42 WAVKRLEY NOVELS. 
 
 " ZNIi* priestess ! I am nae Quaker, I wot, Maister 
 Francie ; and I never heard of alewif'e that turned 
 preacher, except Luckie Buchan in the West.* And if 
 I were to preach, I think I have mair the spirit of a 
 Scott ish woman, than to preach in the very room they hae 
 been dancing in ilka night in the week, Saturday itsell 
 not excepted, and that till twal o'clock at night. Na, na, 
 Maister Francie ; I leave the like o' that to Mr. Simon 
 Chatterly, as they ca' the bit prelatical sprig of divinity 
 from the town yonder, that plays at cards and dances six 
 days in the week, and on the seventh reads the Common 
 Prayer-book in the ball-room, with Tarn Simson, the 
 drunken barber, for his clerk." 
 
 " I think I have heard of Mr. Chatterly," said Tyrrel. 
 
 " Ye'll be thinking o' the sermon he has printed," said 
 the angry dame, " where he compares their nasty puddle 
 of a well yonder to the pool of Bethesda, like a foul- 
 mouthed, fleeehing, feather-headed fule as he is! He 
 should hae kend that the place got a' its fame in the 
 times of Black Popery ; and though they pat it in St. 
 Ronan's name, I'll never believe for one that the honest 
 man had ony hand in it ; for I hae been tell'd by ane that 
 suld ken, that he was nae Roman, but only a Cuddie, or 
 Culdee, or such like. — But will ye not take anither dish 
 of tea, Maister Francie ? and a wee bit of the diet-loaf, 
 raised wi' my ain fresh butter, Maister Francie ? and no 
 wi' greasy kitchen-fee, like the seed cake down at the con- 
 fectioner's yonder, that has as mony dead flees as carvey 
 in it. Set him up for confectioner ! Wi' a penniworth 
 of rye-meal, and anither of tryacle, and twa or three 
 
 * The foundress of a sect called Buchanites; a species of Joanna 
 Southcote, who long after death was expected to return and head her 
 disciples on the road to Jerusalem.
 
 ST. EOMNS "WELL. 43 
 
 carvey-seeds, I will make better confections than ever 
 cam out of his oven." 
 
 " I have no doubt of that, Mrs. Dods," said the guest ; 
 " and I only wish to know how these new comers were 
 able to establish themselves against a house of such good 
 reputation and old standing as yours ? — It was the virtues 
 of the mineral, I daresay ; but how came the waters to 
 recover a character all at once, mistress ? " * 
 
 " I dinna ken, sir — they used to be thought good for 
 naething, but here and there for a puir body's bairn, that 
 had gotten the cruells,* and could not afford a penniworth 
 of salts. But my Leddy Penelope Pen feather had fa'an 
 ill, it's like, as nae other body ever fell ill, and sae she 
 was to be cured some gate naebody was ever cured, 
 which was naething mair than was reasonable — and my 
 leddy, ye ken, has wit at wull, and has a' the wise folk 
 out from Edinburgh at her house at Windywa's yonder, 
 which it is her leddyship's will and pleasure to call Air- 
 castle — and they have a' their different turns, and some 
 can clink verses, wi' their tale, as weel as Rob Burns or 
 Allan Ramsay — and some rin up hill and down dale, 
 knapping the chucky stanes to pieces wi' hammers, like 
 sae mony road-makers run daft — they say it is to see 
 how the warld was made ! — and some that play on all 
 manner of ten-stringed instruments — and a wheen sketch- 
 ing souls, that ye may see perched like craws on every 
 craig in the country, e'en working at your am trade, 
 Maister Francie ; forby men that had been in foreign 
 parts, or said they had been there, whilk is a' ane, ye 
 ken, and maybe twa or three draggle-tailed misses, that 
 wear my Leddy Penelope's follies when she has dune 
 wi' them, as her queans of maids wear her second-hand 
 * Esa-ouelks, King's Evil.
 
 44 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 
 
 claithes. So, after her leddyship's happy recovery, as 
 they ca'd it, down cam the hail tribe of wild geese, and 
 settled by the Well, to dine thereout on the bare grand, 
 like a wheen tinklers; and they had sangs, and tunes, 
 and healths, nae doubt, in praise of the fountain, as they 
 ca'd the Well, and of Leddy Penelope Penfeather ; and, 
 lastly, they behoved a' to take a solemn bumper of the 
 spring, whieh, as I'm tauld, made unco havoc amang 
 them or they wan hame ; and this they ca'd Pieknick, 
 and a plague to them : And sae the jig was begun after 
 her leddy ship's pipe, and mony a mad measure has been 
 danced sin' syne ; for down cam masons and murgeon- 
 makers, and preachers and player-folk, and Episcopalians, 
 and Methodists, and fools and tiddlers, and Papists and 
 pie-bakers, and doctors and dragsters ; by the shop-folk, 
 that sell trash and trumpery at three prices — and so up 
 got the bonny new Well, and down fell the honest auld 
 town of St. Ronan's, where blythe decent folk had been 
 heartsome eneugh for mony a day before ony o' them 
 were born, or ony sic vapouring fancies kittled in their 
 cracked brains." 
 
 " What said your landlord, the Laird of St. Ronan's, 
 to all this ? " said Tyrrel. 
 
 " Is't my landlord ye are asking after, Maister Fran- 
 cie? — the Laird of St. Ronan's is nae landlord of mine, 
 and I think ye might hae minded that. — Na, na, thanks 
 be to Praise ! Meg Dods is baith \andlord and land- 
 leddy. Ill eneugh to keep the doors open as it is, let be 
 facing Whitsunday and Martinmas — an auld leather pock 
 there is, Maister Francie, in ane of worthy Maister Bind- 
 loose the sheriff-clerk's pigeon-holes, in his dowcot of a 
 closet in the burgh ; and therein is baith charter and 
 sasine, and special service to boot ; and that will be chap- 
 ter and verse, speer when ye list."
 
 ST. ko.van's well. 45 
 
 " I had quite forgotten," said Tyrrel, /' that the inn 
 was your own ; though I remember you were a consider- 
 able landed proprietor." 
 
 "Maybe I am," replied Meg, " maybe I am not ; and 
 if I be, what for no ? — But as to what the Laird, whose 
 grandfather was my father's landlord, said to the new 
 doings yonder — he just jumped at the ready penny, like 
 a cock at a grossart, and feu'd the bonny holm beside the 
 Well, that they ca'd Saints- Well-holm, that was like the 
 best land in his aught, to be carved, and biggit, and how- 
 kit up, just at the pleasure of Jock Ashler the stane- 
 mason, that ca's himsell an arkiteck — there's nae living 
 for new words in this new warld neither, and that is 
 another vex to auld folk such as me. — It's a shame o' the 
 young Laird to let his auld patrimony gang the gate it's 
 like to gang, and my heart is sair to see't, though it has 
 but little cause to care what comes of him or his." 
 
 " Is it the same Mr. Mowbray," said Mr. Tyrrel, " who 
 still holds the estate ? — the old gentleman, you know, 
 whom I had some dispute with " 
 
 " About hunting moor-fowl upon the Spring-well-head 
 muirs?" said Meg. "Ah, lad! honest Maister Bind- 
 loose brought you neatly off there — Na, it's no that honest 
 man, but his son John Mowbray — the t'other has slept 
 down-by in St. Ronan's Kirk for these six or seven 
 years." 
 
 " Did he leave," asked Tyrrel, with something of a 
 faltering voice, " no other child than the present laird ? " 
 
 " No other son," said Meg ; " and there's e'en eneugh, 
 unless he could have left a better ane." 
 
 " lie died, then," said Tyrrel, " excepting this son, 
 without children ? " 
 
 " By your leave, no," said Meg ; " there is the lassie,
 
 46 "VVAVERLEY NOVELS. 
 
 Miss Clam, that keeps house, for the laird, if it can be 
 ca'd keeping house, for he is almost aye down at the 
 "Well yonder — so a sma' kitchen serves them at the 
 Shaws." 
 
 " Miss Clara will have but a dull time of it there 
 during her brother's absence," said the stranger. 
 
 " Out no ! — he has her aften jinketing about, and back 
 and forward, wi' a' the fine flichtering fools that come 
 yonder ; and clapping palms wi' them, and linking at 
 their dances and daffings. I wuss nae ill come o't, but 
 it's a shame her father's daughter should keep company 
 wi' a' that scaufF and raff of physic-students, and writers' 
 prentices, and bagmen, and siclike trash as are down at 
 the Well yonder." 
 
 " You are severe, Mrs. Dods," replied the guest. " No 
 doubt Miss Clara's conduct deserves all sort of free- 
 dom." 
 
 " I am saying naething against her conduct," said the 
 dame ; " and there's nae ground to say ony thing that I 
 ken of — But I wad hae like draw to like, Maister Fran- 
 cie. I never quarrelled the ball that the gentry used to 
 hae at my bit house a gude wheen years bygane — when 
 they came, the auld folk in their coaches, wi' lang-tailed 
 black horses, and a wheen galliard gallants on their hunt- 
 ing horses, and mony a decent leddy behind her ain good- 
 man, and mony a bonny smirking lassie on her pownie, 
 and wha sae happy as they — And what for no ? And 
 then there was the farmers' ball, wi' the tight lads of 
 yeomen with the brank new blues and the buckskins — 
 These were decent meetings — but then they were a' ae 
 man's bairns that were at them, ilk ane kend ilk other — 
 they danced farmers wi' farmers' daughters at the tane, 
 and gentles wi' gentle blood, at the t'other, unless maybe
 
 ST. RONAN'S "WELL. 47 
 
 when some of the gentlemen of the Killnakelty Club 
 ■would gie me a round of the floor mysell, in the way of 
 daffing and fun, and me no able to flyte on them for 
 lau°-hin°- — I am sure I never grudged these innocent 
 pleasures, although it has cost me maybe a week's redding 
 up, ere I got the better of the confusion." 
 
 " But, dame," said Tyrrel, " this ceremonial would be 
 a little hard upon strangers like myself, for how were 
 we to find partners in these family parties of yours?" 
 
 " Never you fash your thumb about that, Maister 
 Francie," returned the landlady, with a knowing wink. — 
 " Every Jack will find a Jill, gang the world as it may — 
 and, at the warst o't, better hae some fashery in finding a 
 partner for the night, than get yoked with ane that you 
 may not be ahle to shake off the morn." 
 
 " And does that sometimes happen ? " asked the 
 stranger. 
 
 " Happen ! — and it's amang the Well folk that ye 
 mean ? " exclaimed the hostess. " Was it not the last 
 season, as they ca't, no farther gane, that young Sir Bingo 
 Binks, the English lad wi' the red coat, that keeps a mail- 
 coach, and drives it himsell, gat cleekit with Miss Rachel 
 Bonnyrigg, the auld Leddy Loupengirth's lang-legged 
 daughter — and they danced sae lang thegither, that there 
 was mair said than suld hae been said about it — and the 
 lad would fain have louped back, but the auld leddy held 
 him to his tackle, and the Commissary Court and some- 
 body else made her Leddy Binks in spite of Sir Bingo's 
 heart — and he has never daured take her to his friends in 
 England, but they have just wintered and summered it at 
 the Well ever since — and that is what the Well is good 
 for ! " 
 
 " And does Clara, — I mean does Miss Mowhray, keep
 
 48 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 
 
 company with such women as these ? " said Tyrrel, with 
 a tone of interest which he checked as he proceeded witli 
 the question. 
 
 " What can she do, puir thing ? " said the dame. " She 
 maun keep the company that her brother keeps, for she 
 is clearly dependent. — But, speaking of that, I ken what 
 1 have to do, and that is no little, before it darkens. I 
 have sat clavering with you ower lang, Maister Francie." 
 
 And away she marched with a resolved step, and soon 
 the clear octaves of her voice were heard in shrill admc 
 nition to her handmaidens. 
 
 Tyrrel paused a moment in deep thought, then took 
 his hat, paid a visit to the stable, where his horse saluted 
 him with feathering ears, and that low amicable neigh, 
 with which that animal acknowledges the approach of a 
 loving and beloved friend. Having seen that the faith- 
 ful creature was in every respect attended to, Tyrrel 
 availed himself of the continued and lingering twilight, 
 to visit the old castle, which, upon former occasions, had 
 been his favourite evening walk. He remained while the 
 light permitted, admiring the prospect we attempted to 
 describe in the first chapter, and comparing, as in his 
 former reverie, the faded hues of the glimmering land- 
 scape to those of human life, when early youth and hope 
 had ceased to gild them. 
 
 A brisk walk to the inn, and a light supper on a Welsh 
 rabbit and the dame's home-brewed, were stimulants of 
 livelier, at least more resigned thoughts — and the Blue 
 bedroom, to the honours of which he had been promoted, 
 received him a contented, if not a cheerful tenant.
 
 ST. ronan's well. 49 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 ADMINISTRATION. 
 
 There must be government in all society — 
 Bees have their Queen, and stag herds have their leader ; 
 Rome had her Consuls, Athens had her Archons, 
 And we, sir, have our Managing Committee. 
 
 The Albdm of St. Ronan's. 
 
 Francis Tyrrel was, in the course of the next day, 
 formally settled in his own old quarters, where he an- 
 nounced his purpose of remaining for several days. The 
 old-established carrier of the place brought his fishing-rod 
 and travelling-trunk, with a letter to Meg, dated a week 
 previously, desiring her to prepare to receive an old ac- 
 quaintance. This annunciation, though something of the 
 latest, Meg received with great complacency, observing, 
 it was a civil attention in Maister Tirl ; and that John 
 Hislop, though he was not just sae fast, was far surer 
 than ony post of them a', or express either. She also 
 observed with satisfaction, that there was no gun-case 
 along with her guest's baggage ; " for that weary gunning 
 had brought him and her into trouble — the lairds had 
 cried out upon't, as if she made her house a howff for 
 common fowlers and poachers ; and yet how could she 
 hinder twa daft hempie callants from taking a start and 
 
 VOL. XXXIII. 4
 
 50 "WAVERLEY NOVELS. 
 
 an ower-loup ? * They had been ower the neighbour's 
 ground they had leave on up to the inarch, and they 
 werena just to ken meiths when the moorfowl got up." 
 
 In a day or two, her guest fell into such quiet and 
 solitary habits, that Meg, herself the most restless and 
 bustling of human creatures, began to be vexed, for want 
 of the trouble which she expected to have had with him, 
 experiencing, perhaps, the same sort of feeling from his 
 extreme and passive indifference on all points, that a good 
 horseman has for the over-patient steed, which he can 
 scarce feel under him. His walks were devoted to the 
 most solitary recesses among the neighbouring woods and 
 hills — his fishing-rod was often left behind him, or 
 carried merely as an apology for sauntering slowly by 
 the banks of some little brooklet — and his success so 
 indifferent, that Meg said the piper of Peebles f would 
 have caught a creelfu' before Maister Francie had made 
 out the half-dozen ; so that he was obliged, for peace's 
 sake, to vindicate his character, by killing a handsome 
 salmon. 
 
 Tyrrel's painting, as Meg called it, went on equally 
 slowly : He often, indeed, showed her the sketches which 
 he brought from his walks, and used to finish at home ; 
 but Meg held them very cheap. What signified, she 
 said, a wheen bits of paper, wi' black and white scarts 
 upon them, that he ca'd bushes, and trees, and craigs ? — ■ 
 Couldna he paint them wi' green, and blue, and yellow, 
 like the other folk ? " Ye will never mak your bread 
 that way, Maister Francie. Ye suld munt up a muckle 
 square of canvas, like Dick Tinto, and paint folk's 
 
 * The usual expression for a slight encroachment on a neighbour's 
 property. 
 
 t The said piper was famous at the mystery.
 
 ST. roxan's well. 51 
 
 ainsells, that they like muckle better to see than ony 
 craig in the haill water ; and I wadna muckle objeck 
 even to some of the Wallers coming up and sitting to ye. 
 They waste their time waur, I wis — and, I warrant, ye 
 might mak a guinea a-head of them. Dick made twa 
 but he was an auld used hand, and folk maun creep 
 before they gang." 
 
 In answer to these remonstrances, Tyrrel assured her, 
 that the sketches with which he busied himself were held 
 of such considerable value, that very often an artist in 
 that line received much higher remuneration for these, 
 than for portraits or coloured drawings. He added, that 
 they were often taken for the purpose of illustrating 
 popular poems, and hinted as if he himself were engaged 
 in some labour of that nature. 
 
 Eagerly did Meg long to pour forth to Nelly Trotter, 
 the fish-woman, — whose cart formed the only neutral 
 channel of communication between the Auld Town and 
 the Well, and who was in favour with Meg, because, as 
 Nelly passed her door in her way to the Well, she always 
 had the first choice of her fish, — the merits of her lodger 
 as an artist. Luckie Dods had, in truth, been so much 
 annoyed and bullied, as it were, with the report of clever 
 persons, accomplished in all sorts of excellence, arriving 
 day after day at the Hotel, that she was overjoyed in this 
 fortunate opportunity to triumph over them in their own 
 way ; and it may be believed, that the excellences of her 
 lodger lost nothing by being trumpeted through her 
 mouth. 
 
 " I maun hae the best of the cart, Nelly — if you and 
 me can gree — for it is for ane of the best of painters. 
 Your fine folk down yonder would gie their lugs to look 
 at what he has been doing — he gets gowd in goupins, for
 
 52 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 
 
 throe downright scarts and three cross anes — And he is 
 no an ungrateful loon, like Dick Tinto, that had nae 
 sooner my good five-and-twenty shillings in his pocket, 
 than he gaed down to birl it awa at their bonny hottle 
 yonder, but a decent quiet lad, that kens when he is weel 
 aff, and bides still at the auld howff — And what for no ? 
 — Tell them all this, and hear what they will say till't." 
 
 " Indeed, mistress, I can tell ye that already, without 
 stirring my shanks for the matter," answered Nelly 
 Trotter ; " they will e'en say that ye are ae auld fule, 
 and me anither, that may hae some judgment in cock- 
 bree or in scate-rumples, but maunna fash our beards 
 about ony thing else." 
 
 " Wad they say sae, the frontless villains ? and me 
 been a housekeeper this thirty year ! " exclaimed Meg ; 
 " I wadna hae them say it to my face ! But I am no 
 speaking without warrant — for what an I had spoken to 
 the minister, lass, and shown him ane of the loose scarts 
 of paper that Maister Tirl leaves fleeing about his room ? 
 — and what an he had said he had kend Lord Bidmore 
 gie five guineas for the waur on't? and a' the warld kens 
 he was lang tutor in the Bidmore family." 
 
 " Troth," answered her gossip, " I doubt if I was to 
 tell a' this they would hardly believe me, mistress ; for 
 there are sae mony judges amang them, and they think 
 sae muckle of themsells, and sae little of other folk, that 
 unless ye were to send down the bit picture, I am no 
 thinking they will believe a word that I can tell 
 them." 
 
 " No believe what an honest woman says — let abee to 
 say twa o' them ? " exclaimed Meg ; " O the unbeliev- 
 ing generation ! — Weel, Nelly, since my back is up, ye 
 sail tak down the picture, or sketching, or whatever it
 
 ST. ronan's well. 53 
 
 is, (though I thought sketchers * were aye made of aim,) 
 and shame wi' it the conceited crew that they are. — But 
 see and bring't back wi' ye again, Nelly, for it's a thing 
 of value ; and trustna it out o' your hand, that I charge 
 you, for I lippen no muckle to their honesty. — And 
 Nelly, ye may tell them he has an illustrated poem — 
 illustrated — mind the word, Nelly — that is to be stuck as 
 fou o' the like o' that, as ever turkey was larded wi' 
 dabs o' bacon." 
 
 Thus furnished with her credentials, and acting the 
 part of a herald betwixt two hostile countries, honest 
 Nelly switched her little fish-cart downwards to St. 
 Ronan's Well. 
 
 In watering-places, as in other congregated assemblies 
 of the human species, various kinds of government have 
 been dictated, by chance, caprice, or convenience ; but 
 in almost all of them, some sort of direction has been 
 adopted, to prevent the consequences of anarchy. Some- 
 times the sole power has been vested in a Master of Cere- 
 monies ; but this, like other despotisms, has been of late 
 unfashionable, and the powers of this great officer have 
 been much limited even at Bath, where Nash once ruled 
 with undisputed supremacy. Committees of manage- 
 ment, chosen from among the most steady guests, have 
 been in general resorted to as a more liberal mode of 
 sway, and to such was confided the administration of the 
 infant republic of St. Ronan's Well. This little senate, 
 it must be observed, had the more difficult task in dis- 
 charging their high duties, that, like those of other repub- 
 lics, their subjects were divided into two jarring and 
 contending factions, who every day eat, drank, danced, 
 and made merry together, hating each other all the while 
 * Skates are called sketchers in Scotland.
 
 54 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 
 
 with all the animosity of political party, endeavouring, 
 by every art, to secure the adherence of each guest who 
 arrived, and ridiculing the absurdities and follies of each 
 other, with all the wit and bitterness of which they were 
 masters. 
 
 At the head of one of these parties was no less a per- 
 sonage than Lady Penelope Penfeather, to whom the 
 establishment owed its fame, nay, its existence; and 
 whose influence could only have been balanced by that 
 of the Lord of the Manor, Mr. Mowbray of St. Ronan's, 
 or, as he was called usually by the company who affected 
 what Meg called knapping English, The Squire, who was 
 leader of the opposite faction. 
 
 The rank and fortune of the lady, her pretensions to 
 beauty as well as talent, (though the former was some- 
 thing faded,) and the consequence which she arrogated 
 to herself as a woman of fashion, drew round her paint- 
 ers, and poets, and philosophers, and men of science, and 
 lecturers, and foreign adventurers, et hoc genus omne. 
 
 On the contrary, the Squire's influence, as a man of 
 family and property in the immediate neighbourhood, 
 who actually kept greyhounds and pointers, and at least 
 talked of hunters and of racers, ascertained him the sup- 
 port of the whole class of bucks, half and whole bred, 
 from the three next counties ; and if more inducements 
 were wanting, he could grant his favourites the privilege 
 of shooting over his moors, which is enough to turn the 
 head of a young Scottishman at any time. Mr. Mowbray 
 was of late especially supported in his preeminence, by a 
 close alliance with Sir Bingo Binks, a sapient English 
 Baronet, who, ashamed, as many thought, to return to 
 his own country, had set him down at the well of St. 
 Ronan's, to enjoy the blessing which the Caledonian Hy-
 
 ST. RONAJJ'S WELL. 55 
 
 men had so kindly forced on him, in the person of Miss 
 Rachel Bonnyrigg. As this gentleman actually drove a 
 regular-built mail-coach, not in any respect differing from 
 that of his Majesty, only that it was more frequently over- 
 turned, his influence with a certain set was irresistible, 
 and the Squire of St. Ronan's, having the better sense 
 of the two, contrived to reap the full benefit of the con- 
 sequence attached to his friendship. 
 
 These two contending parties were so equally bal- 
 anced, that the predominance of the influence of either 
 was often determined by the course of the sun. Thus, 
 in the morning and forenoon, when Lady Penelope led 
 forth her herd to lawn and shady bower, whether to visit 
 some ruined monument of ancient times, or eat their pic- 
 nic luncheon, to spoil good paper with bad drawings, and 
 good verses with repetition — in a word, 
 
 " To rave, recite, and madden round the land," 
 
 her ladyship's empire over the loungers seemed uncon- 
 trolled and absolute, and all things were engaged in the 
 tourbillon, of which she formed the pivot and centre. 
 Even the hunters, and shooters, and hard drinkers, were 
 sometimes fain reluctantly to follow in her train, sulking, 
 and quizzing, and flouting at her solemn festivals, be- 
 sides encouraging the younger nymphs to giggle when 
 they should have looked sentimental. But after dinner 
 the scene was changed, and her ladyship's sweetest 
 smiles, and softest invitations, were often insufficient to 
 draw the neutral part of the company to the tea-room ; 
 so that her society was reduced to those whose constitu- 
 tion or finances rendered early retirement from the din- 
 ing parlour a matter of convenience, together with the 
 more devoted and zealous of her own immediate depend-
 
 56 AVAVERLEY NOVELS. 
 
 ents and adherents. Even the faith of the latter was 
 apt to be debauched. Her ladyship's poet-laureate, in 
 whose behalf she was teasing each new-comer for sub- 
 scriptions, got sufficiently independent to sing in her 
 ladyship's presence, at supper, a song of rather equivocal 
 meaning ; and her chief painter, who was employed upon 
 an illustrated copy of the Loves of the Plants, was, at 
 another time, seduced into such a state of pot-valour, 
 that, upon her ladyship's administering her usual dose of 
 criticism upon his works, he not only bluntly disputed 
 her judgment, but talked something of his right to be 
 treated like a gentleman. 
 
 These feuds were taken up by the Managing Commit- 
 tee, who interceded for the penitent offenders on the fol- 
 lowing morning, and obtained their reestablishment in 
 Lady Penelope's good graces upon moderate terms. 
 Many other acts of moderating authority they performed, 
 much to the assuaging of faction, and the quiet of the 
 Wellers; and so essential was their government to the 
 prosperity of the place, that, without them, St. Ronan's 
 spring would probably have been speedily deserted. We 
 must, therefore, give a brief sketch of that potential 
 Committee, which both factions, acting as if on a self- 
 denying ordinance, had combined to invest with the reins 
 of government. 
 
 Each of its members appeared to be selected, as For- 
 tunio, in the fairy-tale, chose his followers, for his pe- 
 culiar gifts. First on the list stood the Man of Medi- 
 cine, Dr. Quentin Quackleben, who claimed right to 
 regulate medical matters at the spring, upon the principle 
 which, of old, assigned the property of a newly-discov- 
 ered country to the buccanier who committed the earliest 
 piracy on its shores. The acknowledgment of the Doc-
 
 ST. RONAX'S WELL. 57 
 
 tor's merit, as having been first to proclaim and vindicate 
 the merits of these healing fountains, had occasioned his 
 being universally installed First Physician and Man of 
 Science, which last qualification he could apply to all 
 purposes, from the boiling of an egg to the giving a lec- 
 ture. He was, indeed, qualified, like many of his profes- 
 sion, to spread both the bane and antidote before a dys- 
 peptic patient, being as knowing a gastronome as Dr 
 Redgill himself, or any other worthy physician who has 
 written for the benefit of the cuisine, from Dr. Moncrieff 
 of Tippermalloch, to the late Dr. Hunter of York, and 
 the present Dr. Kitchiner of London. But pluralities 
 are always invidious, and therefore the Doctor prudently 
 relinquished the office of caterer and head-carver to the 
 Man of Taste, who occupied regularly, and ex officio, 
 the head of the table, reserving to himself the occasional 
 privilege of criticising, and a principal share in consum- 
 ing, the good things which the common entertainment 
 afforded. We have only to sum up this brief account of 
 the learned Doctor, by informing the reader, that he was 
 a tall, lean, beetlebrowed man, with an ill-made black 
 scratch-wig, that stared out on either side from his lan- 
 tern jaws. He resided nine months out of the twelve at 
 St. Ronan's, and was supposed to make an indifferent 
 good thing of it, especially as he played whist to admira- 
 tion. 
 
 First in place, though perhaps second to the Doctor in 
 real authority, was Mr. Winterblossom ; a civil sort of 
 person, who was nicely precise in his address, wore his 
 hair cued, and dressed with powder, had knee-buckles 
 set with Bristol stones, and a seal-ring as large as Sir 
 John Falstaff's. In his heyday he had a small estate, 
 which he had spent like a gentleman, by mixing with the
 
 58 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 
 
 gay world. ITe was, in short, one of those respectable 
 links that connect the coxcombs of the present day with 
 those of the last age, and could compare, in his own ex- 
 perience, the follies of both. In latter days, he had 
 sense enough to extricate himself from his course of dis- 
 sipation, though with impaired health and impoverished 
 fortune. 
 
 Mr. Winterblossom now lived upon a moderate annuity, 
 and had discovered a way of reconciling his economy 
 with much company and made dishes, by acting as per- 
 petual president of the table-d'hote at the Well. Here 
 he used to amuse the society by telling stories about 
 Garriek, Foote, Bonnel Thornton, and Lord Kelly, and 
 delivering his opinions in matters of taste and vertu. An 
 excellent carver, he knew how to help each guest to what 
 was precisely his due ; and never failed to reserve a 
 proper slice as the reward of his own labours. To con- 
 clude, he was possessed of some taste in the fine arts, at 
 least in painting and music, although it was rather of the 
 technical kind, than that which warms the heart and 
 elevates the feelings. There was indeed, about Winter- 
 blossom, nothing that was either warm or elevated. He 
 was shrewd, selfish, and sensual ; the last two of which 
 qualities he screened from observation, under a specious 
 varnish of exterior complaisance. Therefore, in his pro- 
 fessed and apparent anxiety to do the honours of the 
 table, to the most punctilious point of good breeding, he 
 never permitted the attendants upon the public taste to 
 supply the wants of others, until all his own private 
 comforts had been fully arranged and provided for. 
 
 Mr. Winterblossom was also distinguished for possess- 
 ing a few curious engravings, and other specimens of art, 
 with the exhibition of which he occasionally beguiled a
 
 ST. ronan's well. 59 
 
 wet morning at the public room. They were collected, 
 " viis et modis" said the Man of Law, another distin- 
 guished member of the Committee, with a knowing cock 
 of his eye to his next neighbour. 
 
 Of this- person little need be said. He was a large- 
 boned, loud-voiced, red-faced old man, named Meikle- 
 wham ; a country writer, or attorney, who managed the 
 matters of the Squire much to the profit of one or other, 
 — if not of both. His nose projected from the front of 
 his broad vulgar face, like the style of an old sun-dial, 
 twisted all of one side. He was as great a bully in his 
 profession, as if it had been military instead of civil ; con- 
 ducted the whole technicalities concerning the cutting "up 
 the Saint's-Well-haugh, so much lamented by Dame Dods, 
 into building-stances, and was on excellent terras with 
 Doctor Quackleben, who always recommended him to 
 make the wills of his patients. 
 
 After the Man of Law comes Captain Mungo Mac- 
 Turk, a Highland lieutenant on half-pay, and that of 
 ancient standing ; one who preferred toddy of the strongest 
 to wine, and in that fashion and cold drams finished about 
 a bottle of whisky per diem, whenever he could come by 
 it. He was called the Man of Peace, on the same prin- 
 ciple which assigns to constables, Bow-street runners, 
 and such like, who carry bludgeons to break folk's heads, 
 and are perpetually and officially employed in scenes of 
 riot, the title of peace-officers — that is, because by his 
 valour he compelled others to act with discretion. The 
 Captain was the general referee in all those abortive 
 quarrels, which, at a place of this kind, are so apt to 
 occur at night, and to be quietly settled in the morning; 
 and occasionally adopted a quarrel himself, by way of 
 taking down any guest who was unusually pugnacious.
 
 60 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 
 
 This occupation procured Captain MacTurk a good deal 
 of respect at the Well ; for he was precisely that sort of 
 person who is ready to fight with any one — whom no one 
 can find an apology for declining to fight with, — in fight- 
 ing with whom considerable danger was incurred, for he 
 was ever and anon showing that he could snuff a candle 
 with a pistol-ball, — and lastly, through fighting with whom 
 no eclat or credit could redound to the antagonist. He 
 always wore a blue coat and red collar, had a supercilious 
 taciturnity of manner, ate sliced leeks with his cheese, 
 and resembled in complexion a Dutch red-herring. 
 
 Still remains to be mentioned the Man of Religion — 
 the gentle Mr. Simon Chatterly, who had strayed to St. 
 Ronan's Well from the banks of Cam or Isis, and who 
 piqued himself, first on his Greek, and secondly, on his 
 politeness to the ladies. During all the week days, as 
 Dame Dods has already hinted, this reverend gentleman 
 was the partner at the whist-table, or in the ball-room, to 
 what maid or matron soever lacked a partner at either ; 
 and on the Sundays, he read prayers in the public room 
 to all who chose to attend. He was also a deviser of 
 charades, and an unriddler of riddles ; he played a little 
 on the flute, and was Mr. Winterblossom's principal 
 assistant in contriving those ingenious and romantic 
 paths, by which, as by the zig-zags which connect mili- 
 tary parallels, you were enabled to ascend to the top of 
 the hill behind the hotel, which commands so beautiful a 
 prospect, at exactly that precise angle of ascent, which 
 entitles a gentleman to offer his arm, and a lady to accept 
 it, with perfect propriety. 
 
 There was yet another member of this Select Com- 
 mittee, Mr. Michael Meredith, who might be termed the 
 Man of Mirth, or, if you please, the Jack Pudding to the
 
 ST. ROMAN'S "WELL. 61 
 
 company, whose business it was to crack the best joke, 
 and sing the best song — he could. Unluckily, however, 
 this functionary was for the present obliged to absent 
 himself from St. Ronan's ; for, not recollecting that he 
 did not actually wear the privileged motley of his pro- 
 fession, he had passed some jest upon Captain MacTurk, 
 which cut so much to the quick, that Mr. Meredith was 
 fain to go to goat-whey quarters, at some ten miles' dis- 
 tance, and remain there in a sort of concealment, until 
 the affair should be made up through the mediation of 
 his brethren of the Committee. 
 
 Such were the honest gentlemen who managed the 
 affairs of this rising settlement, with as much impartiality 
 as could be expected. They were not indeed without 
 their own secret predilections ; for the lawyer and the 
 soldier privately inclined to the party of the Squire, 
 while the parson, Mr. Meredith, and Mr. Winterblossom, 
 were more devoted to the interests of Lady Penelope ; so 
 that Doctor Quackleben alone, who probably recollected 
 that the gentlemen were as liable to stomach complaints, 
 as the ladies to nervous disorders, seemed the only person 
 who preserved in word and deed the most rigid neu- 
 trality. Nevertheless, the interests of the establishment 
 being very much at the heart of this honourable council, 
 and each feeling his own profit, pleasure, or comfort in 
 some degree involved, they suffered not their private 
 affections to interfere with their public duties, but acted 
 every one in his own sphere, for the public benefit of the 
 whole community.
 
 62 AVAVERLEY NOVELS. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE INVITATION. 
 
 Thus painters write their names at Co. 
 
 Prior. 
 
 The clamour which attends the removal of dinner from 
 a public room had subsided ; the clatter of plates, and 
 knives, and forks — the bustling tread of awkward boobies 
 of country servants, kicking each other's shins, and 
 wrangling as they endeavour to rush out of the door 
 three abreast — the clash of glasses and tumblers, borne 
 to earth in the tumult — the shrieks of the landlady — the 
 curses, not loud, but deep, of the landlord — had all 
 passed away; and those of the company who had ser- 
 vants had been accommodated by their respective Gany- 
 medes with such remnants of their respective bottles of 
 wine, spirits, &c, as the said Ganymedes had not pre- 
 viously consumed, while the rest, broken in to such 
 observance by Mr. Winterblossom, waited patiently until 
 the worthy president's own special and multifarious com- 
 missions had been executed by a tidy young woman and 
 a lumpish lad, the regular attendants belonging to the 
 house, but whom he permitted to wait on no one, till, as 
 the hymn says, 
 
 " All his wants were well supplied."
 
 ST. ronan's well. G3 
 
 " And, Dinah — my bottle of pale sherry, Dinah — ■ 
 place it on this side — there is a good girl ; — and, Toby — 
 get my jug with the hot water — and let it be boiling — 
 and don't spill it on Lady Penelope, if you can help it, 
 Toby." 
 
 " No — for her ladyship has been in hot water to-day 
 already," said the Squire ; a sarcasm to which Lady 
 Penelope only replied with a look of contempt. 
 
 "And, Dinah, bring the sugar — the soft East India 
 sugar, Dinah — and a lemon, Dinah, one of those which 
 came fresh to-day — Go fetch it from the bar, Toby — and 
 don't tumble down stairs, if you can help it. — And, Dinah 
 — stay, Dinah — the nutmeg, Dinah, and the ginger, my 
 good girl — And, Dinah — put the cushion up behind my 
 back — and the footstool to my foot, for my toe is some- 
 thing the worse of my walk with your ladyship this 
 morning to the top of Belvidere." 
 
 " Her ladyship may call it what she pleases in common 
 parlance," said the writer ; " but it must stand Munt- 
 grunzie in the stamped paper, being so nominated in the 
 ancient writs and evidents thereof." 
 
 "And, Dinah," continued the president, "lift up my 
 handkerchief — and — a bit of biscuit, Dinah — and — and I 
 do not think I want any thing else — look to the company, 
 my good girl. — I have the honour to drink the company's 
 very good health — Will your ladyship honour me by ac- 
 cepting a glass of negus ? — I learned to make negus from 
 old Dartineuf 's son. — He always used East India sugar, 
 and added a tamarind — it improves the flavour infinitely. 
 — Dinah, see your father sends for some tamarinds — 
 Dartineuf knew a good thing almost as well as his father 
 — I met him at Bath in the year — let me see — Garrick 
 was just taking leave, and that was in," &c. &c. &c. —
 
 64 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 
 
 "And what is this now, Dinah ? " he said, as she put into 
 his hand a roll of paper. 
 
 " Something that Nelly Trotter " (Trotting Nelly, as 
 the company called her) " brought from a sketching 
 gentleman that lives at the woman's " (thus bluntly did 
 the upstart minx describe the reverend Mrs. Margaret 
 Dods) " at the Cleikum of Aultoun yonder " — A name, 
 by the way, which the inn had acquired from the use 
 which the saint upon the sign-post was making of his 
 pastoral crook. 
 
 " Indeed, Dinah ? " said Mr. Winterblossom, gravely 
 taking out his spectacles, and wiping them before he 
 opened the roll of paper ; " some boy's daubing, I sup- 
 pose, whose pa and ma wish to get him into the Trustees' 
 School, and so are beating about for a little interest. — 
 But I am drained dry — I put three lads in last season ; 
 and if it had not been my particular interest with the 
 secretary, who asks my opinion now and then, I could 
 not have managed it. But giff gaff, say I. — Eh ! What, 
 in the devil's name, is this ? — Here is both force and 
 keeping — Who can this be, my lady? — Do but see the 
 sky-line — why, this is really a little bit — an exquisite 
 little bit — Who the devil can it be ? and how can he have 
 stumbled upon the dog-hole in the Old Town, and the 
 
 snarling b I beg your ladyship ten thousand pardons 
 
 — that kennels there ? " 
 
 " I dare say, my lady," said a little miss of fourteen, 
 •her eyes growing rounder and rounder, and her cheeks 
 redder and redder, as she found herself speaking, and so 
 many folks listening — " Oh, la ! I dare say it is the same 
 gentleman we met one day in the Low-wood walk, that 
 looked like a gentleman, and yet was none of the com- 
 pany, and that you said was a handsome man."
 
 ST. ronak's well. 65 
 
 " I did not say handsome, Maria," replied her ladyship ; 
 " ladies never say men are handsome — I only said he 
 looked genteel and interesting." 
 
 " And that, my lady," said the young parson, bowing 
 and smiling, " is, I will be judged by the company, the 
 more flattering compliment of the two — We shall be 
 jealous of this Unknown presently." 
 
 " Nay, but," continued the sweetly communicative 
 Maria, with some real and some assumed simplicity, 
 " your ladyship forgets — for you said presently after, you 
 were sure he was no gentleman, for he did not run after 
 you with your glove which you had dropped — and so I 
 went back myself to find your ladyship's glove, and he 
 never offered to help me, and I saw him closer than your 
 ladyship did, and I am sure he is handsome, though he is 
 not very civil." 
 
 " You speak a little too much and too loud, miss," said 
 Lady Penelope, a natural blush reinforcing the nuance 
 of rouge by which it was usually superseded. 
 
 " What say you to that, Squire Mowbray ? " said the 
 elegant Sir Bingo Binks. 
 
 " A fair challenge to the field. Sir Bingo," answered 
 the Squire ; " when a lady throws down the gauntlet, a 
 gentleman may throw the handkerchief." 
 
 " I have always the benefit of your best construction, 
 Mr. Mowbray," said the lady, with dignity. " I suppose 
 Miss Maria has contrived this pretty story for your 
 amusement. I can hardly answer to Mr. Digges, for 
 bringing her into company where she receives encour- 
 agement to behave so." 
 
 " Nay, nay, my lady," said the president, " you must 
 let the jest pass by ; and since this is really such an ad- 
 mirable sketch, you must honour us with your opinion, 
 
 VOL. XXXIII. 5
 
 GG WAVKRLEY NOVELS. 
 
 whether the company can consistently with propriety make 
 any advances to this man." 
 
 " In my opinion," said her ladyship, the angry spot 
 still flowing on her brow, " there are enough of men 
 among us already — I wish I could say gentlemen — As 
 matters stand, I see little business ladies can have at St. 
 Ronan's." 
 
 This was an intimation which always brought the 
 Squire back to good breeding, which he could make use 
 of when he pleased. He deprecated her ladyship's dis- 
 pleasure, until she told him, in returning good-humour, 
 that she really would not trust him unless he brought his 
 sister to be security for his future politeness. 
 
 " Clara, my lady," said Mowbray, " is a little wilful ; 
 and I believe your ladyship must take the task of unhar- 
 bouring her into your own hands. What say you to a 
 gipsy party up to my old shop ? — It is a bachelor's house 
 — you must not expect things in much order ; but Clara 
 would be honoured " 
 
 The Lady Penelope eagerly accepted the proposal of 
 something like a party, and, quite reconciled with Mow- 
 bray, began to inquire whether she might bring the 
 stranger artist with her, " that is," said her ladyship, 
 looking to Dinah, " if he be a gentleman." 
 
 Here Dinah interposed her assurance, " that the gen- 
 tleman at Meg Dods's was quite and clean a gentleman, 
 and an illustrated poet besides." 
 
 " An illustrated poet, Dinah ? " said Lady Penelope ; 
 " you must mean an illustrious poet." 
 
 " I dare to say your ladyship is right," said Dinah, 
 dropping a curtsy. 
 
 A joyous nutter of impatient anxiety was instantly ex- 
 cited through all the blue-stocking faction of the company,
 
 ST. ronan's well. 67 
 
 nor were the news totally indifferent to the rest of the 
 community. The former belonged to that class, who, 
 like the young Ascanius, are ever beating about in quest 
 of a tawny lion, though they are much more successful 
 in now and then starting a great bore ; * and the others, 
 having left all their own ordinary affairs and subjects of 
 interest at home, were glad to make a matter of import- 
 ance of the most trivial occurrence. A mighty poet, said 
 the former class — who could it possibly be ? — All names 
 were recited — all Britain scrutinized, from Highland hills 
 to the Lakes of Cumberland — from Sydenham Common 
 to St. James's Place — even the Banks of the Bosphorus 
 were explored for some name which might rank under 
 this distinguished epithet. — And then, besides his illus- 
 trious poesy, to sketch so inimitably ! — who could it be ? 
 And all the gapers, who had nothing of their own to 
 suggest, answered with the antistrophe, " Who could it 
 be?" 
 
 The Claret-Club, which comprised the choicest and 
 firmest adherents of Squire Mowbray and the Baronet — 
 men who scorned that the reversion of one bottle of wine 
 should furnish forth the feast of to-morrow, though caring 
 nought about either of the fine arts in question, found 
 out an interest of their own, which centred in the same 
 individual. 
 
 " I say, little Sir Bingo," said the Squire, " this is the 
 very fellow that we saw down at the Willow-slack on 
 Saturday — he was tog'd gnostically enough, and cast 
 
 * The one or the other was equally in volis to Ascanius, — 
 "Optat aprum, aut fulvum descendere moute leouem." 
 
 Modern Trojans make a great distinction betwixt these two objects 
 of chase.
 
 68 WAVKKLKY NOVELS. 
 
 twelve yards of line with one hand — the fly fell like a 
 thistledown on the water." 
 
 " Uich ! " answered the party he addressed, in the 
 accents of a dog choking in the collar. 
 
 " We saw him pull out the salmon yonder," said Mow- 
 hray ; "you remember — clean fish — the tideticks on 
 his gills — weighed, I dare say, a matter of eighteen 
 pounds." 
 
 " Sixteen ! " replied Sir Bingo, in the same tone of 
 strangulation. 
 
 " None of your rigs, Bing ! " said his companion, 
 " nearer eighteen than sixteen ! " 
 
 " Nearer sixteen, by ! " 
 
 " Will you go a dozen of blue on it to the company ? " 
 said the Squire. 
 
 " No, d — me ! " croaked the Baronet — " to our own set 
 I will." 
 
 " Then I say done ! " quoth the Squire. 
 
 And " Done ! " responded the Knight ; and out came 
 their red pocket-books. 
 
 "But who shall decide the bet?" said the Squire. 
 
 " The genius himself, I suppose ; they talk of asking 
 him here, but I suppose he will scarce mind quizzes like 
 them." 
 
 " Write myself — John Mowbray," said the Baronet. 
 
 " You, Baronet ! — you write ! " answered the Squire, 
 " d — me, that cock won't fight — you won't." 
 
 " I will," growled Sir Bingo, more articulately than 
 usual. 
 
 " Why, you can't ! " said Mowbray. " You never wrote 
 a line in your life, save those you were whipped for at 
 school." 
 
 " I can write — I will write ! " said Sir Bingo. " Two 
 to one I will."
 
 ST. KONAN S WELL. 69 
 
 And there the affair rested, for the counsel of the com- 
 pany were in high consultation concerning the most 
 proper manner of opening a communication with the 
 mysterious stranger ; and the voice of Mr. Winterblossom, 
 whose tones, originally fine, age had reduced to falsetto, 
 was calling upon the whole party for " Order, order ! " 
 So that the bucks were obliged to lounge in silence, with 
 both arms reclined on the table, and testifying, by coughs 
 and yawns, their indifference to the matters in question, 
 while the rest of the company debated upon them, as if 
 they were matters of life and death. 
 
 " A visit from one of the gentlemen — Mr. Winterblos- 
 som, if he would take the trouble, — in name of the com- 
 pany at large — would, Lady Penelope Penfeather pre- 
 sumed to think, be a necessary preliminary to an invita- 
 tion." 
 
 Mr. Winterblossom was " quite of her ladyship's opin- 
 ion and would gladly have been the personal representa- 
 tive of the company at St. Ronan's Well — but it was up 
 hill — her ladyship knew his tyrant, the gout, was hover- 
 ing upon the frontiers — there were other gentlemen, 
 younger, and more worthy to fly at the lady's command 
 than an ancient Vulcan like him, — there was the valiant 
 Mars and the eloquent Mercury." 
 
 Thus speaking, he bowed to Captain MacTurk and the 
 Rev. Mr. Simon Chatterly, and reclined on his chair, sip- 
 ping his negus with the self-satisfied smile of one, who, 
 by a pretty speech, has rid himself of a troublesome com- 
 mission. At the same time, by an act probably of mental 
 absence, he put in his pocket the drawing, which, after 
 circulating around the table, had returned back to the 
 chair of the president, being the point from which it had 
 set out.
 
 70 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 
 
 " By Cot, madam," said Captain MacTurk, " I should 
 be proud to obey your leddyship's commands — but, by 
 Cot, I never call first on any man that never called upon 
 me at all, unless it were to carry him a friend's message, 
 or such like." 
 
 " Twig the old connoisseur," said the Squire to the 
 Knight. — " He is condiddling the drawing." 
 
 " Go it, Johnnie Mowbray — pour it into him," whis- 
 pered Sir Bingo. 
 
 " Thank ye for nothing, Sir Bingo," said the Squire, in 
 the same tone. " Winterblossom is one of us — was one 
 of us at least — and won't stand the ironing. He has his 
 Wogdens still, that were right things in his day, and can 
 hit the hay-stack with the best of us — but stay, they are 
 hallooing on the parson." 
 
 They were indeed busied on all hands, to obtain Mr. 
 Chatterly's consent to wait on the Genius unknown ; but 
 though he smiled and simpered, and was absolutely inca- 
 pable of saying No, he begged leave, in all humility, to 
 decline that commission. " The truth was," he pleaded in 
 his excuse, " that having one day walked to visit the old 
 Castle of St. Ronan's, and returning through the Auld 
 Town, as it was popularly called, he had stopped at the 
 door of the Cleikum" (pronounced Anglice, with the 
 open dipthong,) " in hopes to get a glass of syrup of cap- 
 illaire, or a draught of something cooling; and had in 
 fact expressed his wishes, and was knocking pretty loudly, 
 when a sash-window was thrown suddenly up, and ere he 
 was aware what was about to happen, he was soused with 
 a deluge of water, (as he said,) while the voice of an old 
 hag from within assured him that if that did not cool him 
 there was another biding him, — an intimation which in- 
 duced him to retreat in all haste from the repetition of 
 this shower-bath."
 
 ST. ronan's well. 71 
 
 All laughed at the account of the chaplain's misfortune, 
 the history of which seemed to be wrung from him reluc- 
 tantly, by the necessity of assigning some weighty cause 
 for declining to execute the ladies' commands. But the 
 Squire and Baronet continued their mirth far longer than 
 decorum allowed, flinging themselves back in their chairs, 
 with their hands thrust into their side pockets, and their 
 mouths expanded with unrestrained enjoyment, until the 
 sufferer, angry, disconcerted, and endeavouring to look 
 scornful, incurred another general burst of laughter on 
 all hands. 
 
 When Mr. Winterblossom had succeeded in restoring 
 some degree of order, he found the mishaps of the young- 
 divine proved as intimidating as ludicrous. Not one of 
 the company chose to go Envoy Extraordinary to the do- 
 minions of Queen Meg. who might be suspected of pay- 
 ing little respect to the sanctity of an ambassador's person. 
 And what was worse, when it was resolved that a civil 
 card from Mr. Winterblossom, in the name of the com- 
 pany, should be sent to the stranger, instead of a personal 
 visit, Dinah informed them that she was sure no one 
 about the house could be bribed to carry up a letter of 
 the kind ; for, when such an event had taken place two 
 summers since, Meg, who construed it into an attempt to 
 seduce from her tenement the invited guest, had so 
 handled a ploughboy who carried the letter, that he fled 
 the country-side altogether, and never thought himself 
 safe till he was at a village ten miles off, where it was 
 afterwards learned he enlisted with a recruiting party, 
 choosing rather to face the French than to return within 
 the sphere of Meg's <li>pleasure. 
 
 Just while they were agitating this new difliculty a pro- 
 digious clamour was heard without, which to the first ap-
 
 72 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 
 
 prehensions of the company, seemed to be Meg, in all her 
 terrors, come to anticipate the proposed invasion. Upon 
 inquiry, however, it proved to be her gossip, Trotting 
 Nelly, or Nelly Trotter, in the act of forcing her way up 
 stairs, against the united strength of the whole household 
 of the hotel, to reclaim Luckie Dods's picture as she called 
 it. This made the connoisseur's treasure tremble in his 
 pocket, who, thrusting a half-crown into Toby's hand, ex- 
 horted him to give it her, and try his influence in keep- 
 ing her back. Toby, who knew Nelly's nature, put the 
 half-crown into his own pocket, and snatched up a gill- 
 stoup of whisky from the sideboard. Thus ai'med, he 
 boldly confronted the virago, and interposing a remora, 
 which was able to check poor Nelly's course in her most 
 determined moods, not only succeeded in averting the im- 
 mediate storm which approached the company in general, 
 and Mr. Winterblossom in particular, but brought the 
 guests the satisfactory information, that Trotting Nelly 
 had agreed, after she had slept out her nap in the barn, 
 to convey their commands to the Unknown of Cleikum 
 of Aultoun. 
 
 Mr. Winterblossom, therefore, having authenticated his 
 proceedings, by inserting in the Minutes of the Com- 
 mittee, the authority which he had received, wrote his 
 card in the best style of diplomacy, and sealed it with 
 the seal of the Spa, which bore something like a nymph, 
 seated beside what was designed to represent an urn. 
 
 The rival factions, however, did not trust entirely to 
 this official invitation. Lady Penelope was of opinion 
 that they should find some way of letting the stranger — 
 a man of talent unquestionably — understand that there 
 were in the society to which he was invited, spirits of a 
 more select sort, who felt worthy to intrude themselves 
 on his solitude.
 
 ST. eonan's well. 73 
 
 Accordingly her ladyship imposed upon the elegant 
 Mr. Chatterly the task of expressing the desire of the 
 company to see the unknown artist, in a neat occasional 
 copy of verses. The poor gentleman's muse, however, 
 proved unpropitious ; for he was able to proceed, no 
 farther than two lines in half an hour, which, coupled 
 with its variations, we insert from the blotted manuscript, 
 as Dr. Johnson has printed the alterations in Pope's 
 version of the Iliad : 
 
 1. Maids. 2. Dames. unity joining. 
 
 The [nymphs] of St. Ronan's [in purpose combining] 
 
 1. Swain. 2. Man. 
 To the [youth] who is great both in verse and designing. 
 --_-_.___________ dining. 
 
 The eloquence of a prose billet was necessarily resorted 
 to in the absence of the heavenly muse, and the said 
 billet was secretly intrusted to the care of Trotting Nelly. 
 The same trusty emissary, when refreshed by Iter nap 
 among the pease-straw, and about to harness her cart for 
 her return to the sea-coast, (in the course of which she was 
 to pass the Aultoun.) received another card, written, as he 
 had threatened, by Sir Bingo Binks himself, who had 
 given himself this trouble to secure the settlement of the 
 bet ; conjecturing that a man with a fashionable exterior, 
 who could throw twelve yards of line at a cast with such 
 precision, might consider the invitation of Winterblossom 
 as that of an old twaddler, and care as little for the good 
 graces of an affected blue-stocking and her coterie, whose 
 conversation, in Sir Bingo's mind, relished of nothing 
 but of weak tea and bread and butter. Thus the happy 
 Mr. Francis Tyrrel received, considerably to his surprise, 
 no less than three invitations at once from the Well of 
 St. Ronan's.
 
 74 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 EPISTOLARY ELOQUENCE. 
 
 But how can I answer, since first I must read thee? 
 
 Prior. 
 
 Desirous of authenticating our more important facts 
 by as many original documents as possible, we have, after 
 much research, enabled ourselves to present the reader 
 with the following accurate transcripts of the notes in- 
 trusted to the care of Trotting Nelly. The first ran 
 thus : 
 
 " Mr. Winterblossom [of Silverhed] has the com- 
 mands of Lady Penelope Penfeather, Sir Bingo and 
 Lady Binks, Mr. and Miss Mowbray, [of St. Ronan's,] 
 and the rest of the company at the Hotel and Tontine 
 Inn of St. Ronan's Well, to express their hope that the 
 gentleman lodged at the Cleikum Inn, Old Town of St. 
 Ronan's, will favour them with his company at the 
 Ordinary, as early and as often as may suit his conven- 
 ience. The Company think it necessary to send this 
 intimation, because, according to the Rules of the place, 
 the Ordinary can only be attended by such gentlemen and 
 ladies as lodge at St. Ronan's Well ; but they are happy 
 to make a distinction in favour of a gentleman so dis- 
 tinguished for success in the fine arts as Mr. , 
 
 residing at Cleikum. If Mr. should be in-
 
 75 
 
 clined, upon becoming farther acquainted with the Com- 
 pany and Rules of the Place, to remove his residence 
 to the Well, Mr. Winterblossom, though he would not be 
 understood to commit himself by a positive assurance to 
 that effect, is inclined to hope that an arrangement might 
 be made, notwithstanding the extreme crowd of the 
 season, to accommodate Mr. at the lodging- 
 house, called Lilliput-hall. It will much conduce to 
 
 facilitate this negotiation, if Mr. would have 
 
 the goodness to send an exact note of his stature, as 
 Captain Rannletree seems disposed to resign the folding- 
 bed at Lilliput-hall, on account of his finding it rather 
 deficient in length. Mr. Winterblossom begs farther to 
 
 assure Mr. of the esteem in which he holds 
 
 his genius, and of his high personal consideration. 
 
 " For , Esquire, Cleikum Inn, 
 
 Old Town of St. Ronan's. 
 
 " The Public Booms, Hotel, and Tontine, 
 St. Ronan's Well, cfc. cfc. cfc." 
 
 The above card was written (we love to be precise in 
 matters concerning orthography) in a neat, round, clerk- 
 like hand, which, like Mr. Winterblossom's character, in 
 many particulars was most accurate and commonplace, 
 though betraying an affectation both of flourish and of 
 facility. 
 
 The next billet was a contrast to the diplomatic gravity 
 and accuracy of Mr. Winterblossom's official communica- 
 tion, and ran thus, the young divine's academic jests and 
 classical flowers of eloquence being mingled with some 
 wild flowers from the teeming fancy of Lady Penelope. 
 
 " A choir of Dryads and Naiads, assembled at the heal-
 
 76 AVAVKRLEY NOVELS. 
 
 ing spring of St. Ronan's, have learned with surprise that 
 a youth, gifted by Apollo, when the Deity was prodigal, 
 with two of his most esteemed endowments, wanders at 
 will among their domains, frequenting grove and river, 
 without once dreaming of paying homage to its tutelary 
 deities. He is, therefore, summoned to their presence, 
 and prompt obedience will ensure him forgiveness ; but 
 in case of contumacy, let him beware how he again 
 essays either the lyre or the pallet. 
 
 " Postscript. The adorable Penelope, long enrolled 
 among the Goddesses for her beauty and virtues, gives 
 Nectar and Ambrosia, which mortals call tea and cake, 
 at the Public Booms, near the Sacred Spring, on Thurs- 
 day evening, at eight o'clock, when the Muses never fail 
 to attend. The stranger's presence is requested to par- 
 ticipate in the delights of the evening. 
 
 " Second Postscript. A shepherd, ambitiously aiming 
 
 at more accommodation than his narrow cot affords, 
 
 leaves it in a day or two. 
 
 ' Assuredly the thing is to be hired.' 
 
 As You Like It. 
 
 " Postscript third. Our Iris, whom mortals know as 
 
 Trotting Nelly in her tartan cloak, will bring us the 
 
 stranger's answer to our celestial summons." 
 
 This letter was written in a delicate Italian hand, 
 garnished with fine hair strokes and dashes, which were 
 sometimes so dexterously thrown off as to represent 
 lyres, pallets, vases, and other appropriate decorations, 
 suited to the tenor of the contents. 
 
 The third epistle was a complete contrast to the other 
 two. It was written in a coarse, irregular, schoolboy 
 half-text, which, however, seemed to have cost the writer
 
 ST. RONANS WELL. it 
 
 as much pains as if it had been a specimen of the most 
 exquisite calligraphy. And these were the contents : — 
 
 « S UR — Jack Moobray has betted with me that the 
 samon you killed on Saturday last weyd ni to eiteen 
 pounds, — I say nyer sixteen. — So you being a spurtsman, 
 'tis refer'd. — So hope you will come or send me't ; do not 
 doubt you will be on honour. The bet is a dozen of 
 claret, to be drank at the hotel by our own sett, on Mon- 
 day next ; and we beg you will make one ; and Moobray 
 hopes you will come down. — Being, sir, your most hum- 
 bet-servant, — Bingo Binks Baronet, and of Block-hall. 
 
 "Postscript. Have sent some loops of Indian gout, 
 also some black hakkels of my groom's dressing ; hope 
 they will prove killing, as suiting river and season." 
 
 No answer was received to any of these invitations for 
 more than three days ; which, while it secretly rather 
 added to than diminished the curiosity of the "Wellers 
 concerning the Unknown, occasioned much railing in 
 public against him, as ill-mannered and rude. 
 
 Meantime, Francis Tyrrel, to his great surprise, began 
 to find, like the philosophers, that he was never less 
 alone than when alone. In the most silent and seques- 
 tered w*alks, to which the present state of his mind in- 
 duced him to betake himself, he was sure to find some 
 strollers from the Well, to whom he had become the ob- 
 ject of so much solicitous interest. Quite innocent of 
 the knowledge that he himself possessed the attraction 
 which occasioned his meeting them so frequently, he 
 began to doubt whether the Lady Penelope and her 
 maidens — Mr. Winterblossom and his gray pony — the 
 parson and his short black coat and raven-gray panta-
 
 to WAVERLEY NOVELS. 
 
 loons — were not either actually polygraphic copies of the 
 same individuals, or possessed of a celerity of motion re- 
 sembling omnipresence and ubiquity ; for nowhere could 
 he go without meeting them, and that oftener than once 
 a-day, in the course of his walks. Sometimes the pres- 
 ence of the sweet Lycoris was intimated by the sweet 
 prattle in an adjacent shade ; sometimes when Tyrrel 
 thought himself most solitary, the parson's flute was 
 heard snoring forth Gramachree Molly ; and if he be- 
 took himself to the river, he was pretty sure to find his 
 sport watched by Sir Bingo or some of his friends. 
 
 The efforts which Tyrrel made to escape from this 
 persecution, and the impatience of it which his manner 
 indicated, procured him among the Wellers, the name of 
 the Misanthrope ; and once distinguished as an object of 
 curiosity, he was the person most attended to, who could 
 at the ordinary of the day give the most accurate ac- 
 count of where the Misanthrope had been, and how oc- 
 cupied in the course of the morning. And so far was 
 Tyrrel's shyness from diminishing the desire of the 
 Wellers for his society, that the latter feeling increased 
 with the difficulty of gratification, — as the angler feels 
 the most peculiar interest when throwing his fly for the 
 most cunning and considerate trout in the pool. 
 
 In short, such was the interest which the excited im- 
 aginations of the company took in the Misanthrope, that, 
 notwithstanding the unamiable qualities which the woi'd 
 expresses, there was only one of the society who did not. 
 desire to see the specimen at their rooms, for the purpose 
 of examining him closely and at leisure ; and the ladies 
 were particularly desirous to inquire whether he was 
 actually a Misanthrope ? Whether he had been always 
 a Misanthrope ? What had induced him to become a
 
 ST. roxan's well. 79 
 
 Misanthrope ? And whether there were no means of 
 inducing him to cease to be a Misanthrope ? 
 
 One individual only, as we have said, neither desired 
 to see nor hear more of the supposed Timon of Cleikum, 
 and that was Mr. Mowbray of St. Rouan's. Through 
 the medium of that venerable character John Pirner, 
 professed weaver and practical black-fisher in the Aul- 
 toun of St. Ronan's, who usually attended Tyrrel, to 
 show him the casts of the river, carry his bag, and so 
 forth, the Squire had ascertained that the judgment of 
 Sir Bingo regarding the disputed weight of the fish was 
 more correct than his own. This inferred an immediate 
 loss of honour, besides the payment of a heavy bill. 
 And the consequences might be yet more serious ; noth- 
 ing short of the emancipation of Sir Bingo, who had 
 hitherto been Mowbray's convenient shadow and adhe- 
 rent, but who, if triumphant, confiding in his superiority 
 of judgment upon so important a point, might either cut 
 him altogether, or expect that, in future, the Squire, who 
 had long seemed the planet of their set, should be con- 
 tent to roll around himself, Sir Bingo, in the capacity of 
 a satellite. 
 
 The Squire, therefore, devoutly hoped that Tyrrel's 
 restive disposition might continue, to prevent the decision 
 of the bet, while, at the same time, he nourished a very 
 reasonable degree of dislike to that stranger, who had 
 been the indirect occasion of the unpleasant predicament 
 in which he found himself, by not catching a salmon 
 weighing a pound heavier. He, therefore, openly cen- 
 sured the meanness of those who proposed taking farther 
 notice of Tyrrel, and referred to the unanswered letters, 
 as a piece of impertinence which announced him to be 
 no gentleman.
 
 80 WAVliRLEY NOVELS. 
 
 But though appearances were against him, and though 
 he was in truth naturally inclined to solitude, and averse 
 to the affectation and hustle of such a society, that part 
 of Tyrrel's behaviour which indicated ill-breeding was 
 easily accounted for, by his never having received the 
 letters which required an answer. Trotting Nelly, 
 whether unwilling to face her gossip, Meg Dods, without 
 bringing back the drawing, or whether oblivious through 
 the influence of the double dram with which she had 
 been indulged at the Well, jumbled off with her cart to 
 her beloved village of Scate-raw, from which she trans- 
 mitted the letters by the first bare-legged gillie who trav- 
 elled towards Aultoun of St. Ronan's ; so that at last, 
 but after a long delay, they reached the Cleikum Inn 
 and the hands of Mr. Tyrrel. 
 
 The arrival of these documents explained some part 
 of the oddity of behaviour which had surprised him in 
 his neighbours of the Well ; and as he saw they had got 
 somehow an idea of his being a lion extraordinary, and 
 was sensible that such is a character equally ridiculous, 
 and difficult to support, he hastened to write to Mr. Win- 
 terblossom a card in the style of ordinary mortals. In 
 this he stated the delay occasioned by miscarriage of the 
 letter, and his regret on that account ; expressed his in- 
 tention of dining with the company at the Well on the 
 succeeding day, while he regretted that other circum- 
 stances, as well as the state of his health and spirits, 
 would permit him this honour very infrequently during 
 his stay in the country, and begged no trouble might be 
 taken about his accommodation at the Well, as he was 
 perfectly satisfied with his present residence. A sepa- 
 rate note to Sir Bingo, said he was happy he could verify 
 the weight of the fish, which he had noted in his diary ;
 
 ST. RONANS WELL. 81 
 
 (" D — n the fellow, does he keep a diary ? " said the Bar- 
 onet,) and though the result could only be particularly 
 agreeable to one party, he should wish both winner and 
 loser mirth with their wine ; — he was sorry he was unable 
 to promise himself the pleasure of participating in either. 
 Enclosed was a signed note of the weight of the fish. 
 Armed with this, Sir Bingo claimed his wine — triumphed 
 in his judgment — swore louder and more articulately 
 than ever he was known to utter any previous sounds, 
 that this Tyrrel was a devilish honest fellow, and he 
 trusted to be better acquainted with him ; while the 
 crest-fallen Squire, privately cursing the stranger by all 
 his gods, had no mode of silencing his companion but 
 by allowing his loss, and fixing a day for discussing the 
 bet. 
 
 In the public rooms the company examined even mi- 
 croscopically the response of the stranger to Mr. Winter- 
 blossom, straining their ingenuity to discover, in the most 
 ordinary expressions, a deeper and esoteric meaning, ex- 
 pressive of something mysterious, and not meant to meet 
 the eye. Mr. Meiklewham, the writer, dwelt on the 
 word circumstances, which he read with peculiar em- 
 phasis. 
 
 " Ah, poor lad ! " he concluded, " I doubt he sits 
 cheaper at Meg Dort's chimney-corner than he could do 
 with the present company." 
 
 Dr. Quackleben, in the manner of a clergyman select- 
 ing a word from his text, as that which is particularly 
 in-isted upon, repeated in an under tone, the words, 
 "State of health^ — umph — state of health? — Nothing 
 acute — no one has been sent for — must be chronic — tend- 
 ing to gout, perhaps. — Or his shyness to society — light 
 wild eye — irregular step — starting when met suddenly 
 VOL. xxxm. 6
 
 82 WATERLEY NOVELS. 
 
 by a stranger, and turning abruptly and angrily away — 
 Pray, Mr. Winterblossom, let me have an order to look 
 over the file of newspapers — it's very troublesome that 
 restriction about consulting them." 
 
 " You know it is a necessary one, Doctor," said the 
 president; "because so few of the good company read 
 any thing else, that the old newspapers would have been 
 worn to pieces long since." 
 
 " Well, well, let me have the order," said the Doctor ; 
 " I remember something of a gentleman run away from 
 his friends — I must look at the description. — I believe I 
 have a strait-jacket somewhere about the Dispensary." 
 
 While this suggestion appalled the male pai-t of the 
 company, who did not much relish the approaching din- 
 ner in company with a gentleman whose situation seemed 
 so precarious, some of the younger Misses whispered to 
 each other — " Ah, poor fellow ! — and if it be as the Doc- 
 tor supposes, my lady, who knows what the cause of his 
 illness may have been ? — His spirits he complains of — 
 ah, poor man ! " 
 
 And thus, by the ingenious commentaries of the com- 
 pany at the Well, on as plain a note as ever covered the 
 eighth part of a sheet of foolscap, the writer was de- 
 prived of his property, his reason, and his heart, " all or 
 either, or one or other of them," as is briefly and dis- 
 tinctly expressed in the law phrase. 
 
 In short, so much was said pro and con, so many ideas 
 started and theories maintained, concerning the disposi- 
 tion and character of the Misanthrope, that, when the 
 company assembled at the usual time, before proceeding 
 to dinner, they doubted, as it seemed, whether the ex- 
 pected addition to their society was to enter the room on 
 his hands or his feet ; and when " Mr. Tyrrel " was
 
 ST. ronan's well. 83 
 
 announced by Toby, at the top of his voice, the gentle- 
 man who entered the room had so very little to distin- 
 guish him from others, that there was a momentary dis- 
 appointment. The ladies, in particular, began to doubt 
 whether the compound of talent, misanthropy, madness, 
 and mental sensibility, which they had pictured to them- 
 selves, actually was the same with the genteel, and even 
 fashionable-looking man whom they saw before them ; 
 who, though in a morning dress, which the distance of 
 his residence, and the freedom of the place, made ex- 
 cusable, had, even in the minute points of his exterior, 
 none of the negligence, or wildness, which might be sup- 
 posed to attach to the vestments of a misanthropic recluse, 
 whether sane or insane. As he paid his compliments 
 round the circle, the scales seemed to fall from the eyes 
 of those he spoke to ; and they saw with surprise, that 
 the exaggerations had existed entirely in their own pre- 
 conceptions, and that whatever the fortunes, or rank in 
 life, of Mr. Tyrrel might be, his manners, without being 
 showy, were gentleman-like and pleasing. He returned 
 his thanks to Mr. Winterblossom in a manner which 
 made that gentleman recall his best breeding to answer 
 the stranger's address in kind. He then escaped from 
 the awkwardness of remaining the sole object of atten- 
 tion, by gliding gradually among the company, — not like 
 an owl, which seeks to hide itself in a thicket, or an 
 awkward and retired man, shrinking from the society 
 into which he is compelled, but with the air of one who 
 could maintain with ease his part in a higher circle. His 
 address to Lady Penelope was adapted to the romantic 
 tone of Mr. Chatterly's epistle, to which it was necessary 
 to allude. He was afraid, he said, he must complain to 
 Juno of the neglect of Iris, for her irregularity in de-
 
 84 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 
 
 livery of a certain ethereal command, which he had not 
 dared to answer otherwise than by mute obedience — 
 unless, indeed, as the import of the letter seemed to infer, 
 the invitation was designed for some more gifted individ- 
 ual than he to whom chance had assigned^. 
 
 Lady Penelope by her lips, and many of the young 
 ladies with their eyes, assured him there was no mistake 
 in the matter ; that he was really the gifted person whom 
 the nymphs had summoned to their presence, and that 
 they were well acquainted with his talents as a poet and 
 a painter. Tyrrel disclaimed, with earnestness and grav- 
 ity, the charge of poetry, and professed, that, far from 
 attempting the art itself, he " read with reluctance all but 
 the productions of the very first-rate poets, and some of 
 these — he was almost afraid to say — he should have liked 
 better in humble prose." 
 
 " You have now only to disown your skill as an artist," 
 said Lady Penelope, " and we must consider Mr. Tyrrel 
 as the falsest and most deceitful of his sex, who has a 
 mind to deprive us of the opportunity of benefiting by 
 the productions of his unparalleled endowments. I assure 
 you I shall put my young friends on their guard. Such 
 dissimulation cannot be without its object." 
 
 " And I," said Mr. Winterblossom, " can produce a 
 piece of real evidence against the culprit." 
 
 So saying, he unrolled the sketch which he had filched 
 from Trotting Nelly, and which he had pared and pasted, 
 (arts in which he was eminent,) so as to take out its 
 creases, repair its breaches, and vamp it as well as my 
 old friend Mrs. Weir could have repaired the damages 
 of time on a folio Shakspeare. 
 
 " The vera corpus delicti," said the writer, grinning 
 and rubbing his hands.
 
 st. ronan's well. 85 
 
 " If you are so good as to call such scratches draw- 
 ings," said Tyrrel, " I must stand so far confessed. I 
 used to do them for my own amusement ; but since my 
 landlady, Mrs. Dods, has of late discovered that I gain 
 my livelihood by them, why should I disown it ? " 
 
 This avowal, made without the least appearance either 
 of shame or retenue, seemed to have a striking effect on 
 the whole society. The president's trembling hand stole 
 the sketch back to the portfolio, afraid doubtless it might 
 be claimed in form, or else compensation expected by the 
 artist. Lady Penelope was disconcerted, like an awk- 
 ward horse when it changes the leading foot in galloping. 
 She had to recede from the respectful and easy footing 
 on which he had contrived to place himself, to one which 
 might express patronage on her own part, and de- 
 pendence on Tyrrel's ; and this could not be done in a 
 moment. 
 
 The Man of Law murmured, " Circumstances — cir- 
 cumstances — I thought so ! " 
 
 Sir Bingo whispered to his friend the Squire, " Run 
 out — blown up — off the course — pity — d — d pretty fel- 
 low he has been ! " 
 
 " A raff from the beginning ! " whispered Mowbi'ay. — 
 " I never thought him any thing else." 
 
 " I'll hold ye a pony of that, my dear, and I'll ask him." 
 
 " Done, for a pony, provided you ask him in ten min- 
 utes," said the Squire ; " but you dare not, Bingie — he 
 has a d — d cross game look, with all that civil chaff of 
 his." 
 
 " Done," said Sir Bingo, but in a less confident tone 
 than before, and with a determination to proceed with 
 some caution in the matter. — " I have got a rouleau 
 above, and Wintcrblossom shall hold stakes."
 
 86 WAVEKLEY NOVELS. 
 
 " I have no rouleau," said the Squire ; " but I'll fly a 
 cheque on Meiklewham." 
 
 " See it be better than your last," said Sir Bingo, 
 " for I won't be skylarked again. — Jack, my boy, you are 
 had." 
 
 " Not till the bet's won ; and I shall see yon walking 
 dandy break your head, Bingie, before that," answered 
 Mowbray. " Best speak to the Captain before hand — it 
 is a hellish scrape you are running into — I'll let you off 
 yet, Bingie, for a guinea forfeit. — See, I am just going 
 to start the tattler." 
 
 " Start, and be d — d ! " said Sir Bingo. " You are 
 gotten, I assure you o' that, Jack." And with a bow 
 and a shuffle, he went up and introduced himself to the 
 stranger as Sir Bingo Binks. 
 
 " Had — honour — write — sir," were the only sounds 
 which his throat, or rather his cravat, seemed to send 
 forth. 
 
 " Confound the booby ! " thought Mowbray ; " he will 
 get out of leading strings, if he goes on at this rate ; and 
 doubly confounded be this cursed tramper, who, the Lord 
 knows why, has come hither from the Lord knows where, 
 to drive the pigs through my game." 
 
 In the meantime, while his friend stood with his stop- 
 watch in his hand, with a visage lengthened under the 
 influence of these reflections, Sir Bingo, with an instinc- 
 tive tact, which self-preservation seemed to dictate to a 
 brain neither the most delicate nor subtle in the world, 
 premised his inquiry by some general remarks on 
 fishing and field-sports. With all these he found Tyrrel 
 more than passably acquainted. Of fishing and shooting, 
 particularly, he spoke with something like enthusiasm ; 
 so that Sir Bingo began to hold him in considerable re-
 
 ST. ronan's well. 87 
 
 spect, and to assure himself that he could not be, or at 
 least could not originally have been bred, the itinerant 
 artist which he now gave himself out — and this, with the 
 fast lapse of the time, induced him thus to address 
 Tyrrel. — " I say, Mr. Tyrrel — why, you have been one 
 of us — I say" 
 
 " If you mean a sportsman, Sir Bingo — I have been, 
 and am a pretty keen one still," replied Tyrrel. 
 
 " Why, then, you did not always do them sort of 
 things ? " 
 
 " What sort of things do you mean, Sir Bingo ? " said 
 Tyrrel. " I have not the pleasure of understanding 
 you." 
 
 " Why, I mean them sketches," said Sir Bingo. " I'll 
 give you a handsome order for them, if you will tell me. 
 I will, on my honour." 
 
 " Does it concern you particularly, Sir Bingo, to know 
 any thing of my affairs ? " said Tyrrel. 
 
 " No — certainly — not immediately," answered Sir 
 Bingo, with some hesitation, for he liked not the dry 
 tone in which Tyrrcl's answers were returned, half so 
 well as a bumper of dry sherry ; " only I said you were 
 a d — d gnostic fellow, and I laid a bet you have not been 
 always professional — that's all." 
 
 Mr. Tyrrel replied, " A bet with Mr. Mowbray, I sup- 
 pose ? " 
 
 " Yes, with Jack," replied the Baronet — " you have 
 hit it — I hope I have done him ? " 
 
 Tyrrel bent his brows, and looked first at Mr. Mow- 
 bray, then at the Baronet, and, after a moment's thought, 
 addressed the latter. — " Sir Bingo Binks, you are a gen- 
 tleman of elegant inquiry and acute judgment. — You are 
 perfectly right — I was not bred to the profession of an
 
 88 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 
 
 artist, nor did I practice it formerly, whatever I may do 
 now ; and so that question is answered." 
 
 " And Jack is diddled," said the Baronet, smiting his 
 thigh in triumph, and turning towards the Squire, and 
 the stake-holder, with a smile of exultation. 
 
 " Stop a single moment, Sir Bingo," said Tyrrel ; " take 
 one word with you. I have a great respect for bets — it 
 is part of an Englishman's charter to bet on what he 
 thinks fit, and to prosecute his inquiries over hedge and 
 ditch, as if he were steeple-hunting. But as I have satis- 
 fied you on the subject of two bets, that is sufficient com- 
 pliance with the custom of the country ; and therefore I 
 request, Sir Bingo, you will not make me or my affairs 
 the subject of any more wagers." 
 
 " I'll be d — d if I do," was the internal resolution of 
 Sir Bingo. Aloud he muttered some apologies, and was 
 heartily glad that the dinner-bell, sounding at the mo- 
 ment, afforded him an apology for shuffling off in a differ- 
 ent direction.
 
 st. ronan's well. 89 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 TABLE-TALK. 
 
 And. sir, if these accounts be true, 
 The Dutch have mighty things in view; 
 The Austrians — I admire French Beans, 
 Dear ma'am, above all other greens. 
 
 # * * * # 
 
 And all as lively and as brisk 
 
 As — Ma'am, d'ye choose a game at whisk? 
 
 Table-Talk. 
 
 When they were about to leave the room. Lady Pe- 
 nelope assumed Tyrrel's arm with a sweet smile of conde- 
 scension, meant to make the honoured party understand 
 in its full extent the favour conferred. But the unrea- 
 sonable artist, far from intimating the least confusion at 
 an attention so little to be expected, seemed to consider 
 the distinction as one which was naturally paid to the 
 greatest stranger present ; and when he placed Lady 
 Penelope at the head of the table, by Mr. Winterblossom 
 the president, and took a chair for himself betwixt her 
 ladyship and Lady Binks, the provoking wretch appeared 
 no more sensible of being exalted above his proper rank 
 in society, than if he had been sitting at the bottom of 
 the table by honest Mrs. Blower from the Bow-head, 
 who had come to the Well to carry off the dregs of the 
 Inflienzie, which she scorned to term a surfeit.
 
 90 WAVKRLEY NOVELS. 
 
 Now this indifference puzzled Lady Penelope's game 
 extremely, and irritated her desire to get at the bottom 
 of Tyrrel's mystery, if there was one, and secure him to 
 her own party. If you were ever at a watering-place, 
 reader, you know that while the guests do not always 
 pay the most polite attention to unmarked individuals, 
 the appearance of a stray lion makes an interest as 
 strong as it is reasonable, and the Amazonian chiefs of 
 each coterie, like the hunters of Buenos- Ayres, prepare 
 their lasso, and manoeuvre to the best advantage they 
 can, each hoping to noose the unsuspicious monster, and 
 lead him captive to her own menagerie. A few words 
 concerning Lady Penelope Penfeather will explain why 
 she practised this sport with even more than common 
 zeal. 
 
 She was the daughter of an earl, possessed a showy 
 person, and features which might be called handsome in 
 youth, though now rather too much prononces to render 
 the term proper. The nose was become sharper ; the 
 cheeks had lost the roundness of youth ; and as, during 
 fifteen years that she had reigned a beauty and a ruling- 
 toast, the right man had not spoken, or, at least, had not 
 spoken at the right time, her ladyship, now rendered 
 sufficiently independent by the inheritance of an old 
 relation, spoke in praise of friendship, began to dislike 
 the town in summer, and to " babble of green fields." 
 
 About the time Lady Penelope thus changed the 
 tenor of her life, she was fortunate enough, with Dr. 
 Quackleben's assistance, to find out the virtues of St. 
 Ronan's spring ; and, having contributed her share to 
 establish the Urbs in rure, which had risen around it, 
 she sat herself down as leader of the fashions in the 
 little province which she had in a great measure both
 
 ST. ronan's well. 91 
 
 discovered and colonized. She was, therefore, justly 
 desirous to compel homage and tribute from all who 
 should approach the territory. 
 
 In other respects, Lady Penelope pretty much resem- 
 bled the numerous class she belonged to. She was at 
 bottom a well-principled woman, but too thoughtless to 
 let her principles control her humour, therefore not scru- 
 pulously nice in her society. She was good-natured, but 
 capricious and whimsical, and willing enough to be kind 
 or generous, if it neither thwarted her humour, nor cost 
 her much trouble ; would have chaperoned a young 
 friend any where, and moved the world for subscription 
 tickets ; but never troubled herself how much her giddy 
 charge flirted, or with whom ; so that, with a numerous 
 class of Misses, her ladyship was the most delightful 
 creature in the world. Then Lady Penelope had lived so 
 much in society, knew so exactly when to speak, and 
 how to escape from an embarrassing discussion by pro- 
 fessing ignorance, while she looked intelligence, that she 
 was not generally discovered to be a fool, unless when 
 she set up for being remarkably clever. This happened 
 more frequently of late, when perhaps, as she could not 
 but observe that the repairs of the toilette became more 
 necessary, she might suppose that new lights, according 
 to the poet, were streaming on her mind through the 
 chinks that Time was making. Many of her friends, 
 however, thought that Lady Penelope would have better 
 consulted her genius by remaining in mediocrity, as a 
 fashionable and well-bred woman, than by parading her 
 new-founded pretensions to taste and patronage ; but such 
 was not her own opinion, and doubtless, her ladyship was 
 the best judge. 
 
 On the other side of Tyrrel sat Lady Binks, lately the
 
 02 "WAVERLEY NOVELS. 
 
 beautiful Miss Bonnyrigg, who, during the last season, 
 had made the company at the Well alternately admire, 
 smile, and stare, by dancing the highest Highland fling, 
 riding the wildest pony, laughing the loudest laugh at 
 the broadest joke, and wearing the briefest petticoat of 
 any nymph of St. Ronan's. Few knew that this wild, 
 hoydenish, half-mad humour, was only superinduced 
 over her real character, for the purpose of — getting well 
 married. She had fixed her eyes on Sir Bingo, and was 
 aware of his maxim, that to catch him, " a girl must be," 
 in his own phrase, " bang up to every thing ; " and that 
 he would choose a wife for the neck-or-nothing qualities 
 which recommend a good hunter. She made out her 
 catch-match, and she was miserable. Her wild good- 
 humour was entirely an assumed part of her character, 
 which was passionate, ambitious, and thoughtful. Deli- 
 cacy she had none — she knew Sir Bingo was a brute and 
 a fool, even while she was hunting him down ; but she 
 had so far mistaken her own feelings, as not to have ex- 
 pected that when she became bone of his bone, she 
 should feel so much shame and anger when she saw his 
 folly expose him to be laughed at and plundered, or so 
 disgusted when his brutality became intimately connected 
 with herself. It is true, he was on the whole rather an 
 innocent monster; and between bitting and bridling, 
 coaxing and humouring, might have been made to pad on 
 well enough. But an unhappy boggling which had taken 
 place previous to the declaration of their private mar- 
 riage, had so exasperated her spirits against her help- 
 mate, that modes of conciliation were the last she was 
 likely to adopt. Not only had the assistance of the 
 Scottish Themis, so propitiously indulgent to the foibles 
 of the fair, been resorted to on the occasion, but even
 
 ST. ronan's well. 93 
 
 Mars seemed ready to enter upon the tapis, if Hymen 
 had not intervened. There was, de par le monde, a 
 certain brother of the lady — an officer — and, as it hap- 
 pened, on leave of absence, — who alighted from a hack- 
 chaise at the Fox Hotel, at eleven o'clock at night, 
 holding in his hand a slip of well-dried oak, accompanied 
 by another gentleman, who, like himself, wore a military 
 travelling-cap and a black stock ; out of the said chaise, 
 as was reported by the trusty Toby, was handed a small 
 reise-sac, an Andrea Ferrara, and a neat mahogany box, 
 eighteen inches long, three deep, and some six broad. 
 Next morning a solemn palaver (as the natives of Mad- 
 agascar call their national convention) was held at an 
 unusual hour, at which Captain MacTurk and Mr. Mow- 
 bray assisted ; and the upshot was, that at breakfast the 
 company were made happy by the information, that Sir 
 Bingo had been for some weeks the happy bridegroom 
 of their general favourite ; which union, concealed for 
 family reasons, he was now at liberty to acknowledge, 
 and to fly with the wings of love to bring his sorrowing 
 turtle from the shades to which she had retired, till the 
 obstacles to their mutual happiness could be removed. 
 Now, though all this sounded very smoothly, that gall- 
 less turtle, Lady Binks, could never think of the tenor 
 of the proceedings without the deepest feelings of resent- 
 ment and contempt for the principal actor, Sir Bingo. 
 
 Besides all these unpleasant circumstances, Sir Bingo's 
 family had refused to countenance her wish that he should 
 bring her to his own seat ; and hence a new shock to her 
 pride, and new matter of contempt against poor Sir 
 Bingo, for being ashamed and afraid to face down the 
 opposition of his kinsfolk, for whose displeasure, though 
 never attending to any good advice from them, he re- 
 tained a childish awe.
 
 9 1 WAVEKLEY NOVELS. 
 
 The manners of the young lady were no less changed 
 than was her temper; and, from being much too careless 
 and free, were become reserved, sullen, and haughty. A 
 consciousness that many scrupled to hold intercourse with 
 her in society, rendered her disagreeably tenacious of her 
 rank, and jealous of every thing that appeared like 
 neglect. She had constituted herself mistress of Sir 
 Bingo's purse ; and, unrestrained in the expenses of 
 dress and equipage, chose, contrary to her maiden prac- 
 tice, to be rather rich and splendid than gay, and to 
 command that attention by magnificence, which she no 
 longer deigned to solicit by rendering herself either 
 agreeable or entertaining. One secret source of her 
 misery was, the necessity of showing deference to Lady 
 Penelope Penfeathei', whose understanding she despised, 
 and whose pretensions to consequence, to patronage, and 
 to literatui'e, she had acuteness enough to see through, 
 and to contemn ; and this dislike was the more grievous, 
 that she felt she depended a good deal on Lady Pe- 
 nelope's countenance for the situation she was able to 
 maintain even among the not very select society of St. 
 Eonan's Well ; and that, neglected by her, she must have 
 dropped lower in the scale even there. Neither was 
 Lady Penelope's kindness to Lady Binks extremely 
 cordial. She partook in the ancient and ordinary dislike 
 of single nymphs of a certain age, to those who make 
 splendid alliances under their very eye — and she more 
 than suspected the secret disaffection of the lady. But 
 the name sounded well ; and the style in which Lady 
 Binks lived was a credit to the place. So they satisfied 
 their mutual dislike with saying a few sharp things to 
 each other occasionally, but all under the mask of civility. 
 
 Such was Lady Binks; and yet, being such, her dress,
 
 ST. ronan's well. 95 
 
 and her equipage, and carriages, were the envy of half 
 the Misses at the Well, who, while she sat disfiguring 
 with sullenness her very lovely face, (for it was as beauti- 
 ful as her shape was exquisite,) only thought she was 
 proud of having carried her point, and felt herself, with 
 her large fortune and diamond bandeau, no fit company 
 for the rest of the party. They gave way, therefore, 
 with meekness to her domineering temper, though it was 
 not the less tyrannical, that in her maiden state of hoy- 
 denhood, she had been to some of them an object of 
 slight and of censure ; and Lady Binks had not forgotten 
 the offences offered to Miss Bonnyrigg. But the fair 
 sisterhood submitted to her retaliations, as lieutenants 
 endure the bullying of a rude and boisterous captain of 
 the sea, with the secret determination to pay it home to 
 their underlings when they shall become captains them- 
 selves. 
 
 In this state of importance, yet of penance, Lady 
 Binks occupied her place at the dinner-table, alternately 
 disconcerted by some stupid speech of her lord and 
 master, and by some slight sarcasm from Lady Penelope, 
 to which she longed to reply, but dared not. 
 
 She looked from time to time at her neighbour, Frank 
 Tyrrel, but without addressing him, and accepted in 
 silence the usual civilities which he proffered to her. 
 She had remarked keenly his interview with Sir Bingo, 
 and knowing by experience the manner in which her 
 honoured lord was wont to retreat from a dispute in 
 which he was unsuccessful, as well as his genius for 
 getting into such perplexities, she had little doubt that 
 he had sustained from the stranger some new indignity ; 
 whom, therefore, she regarded with a mixture of feeling, 
 scarce knowing whether to be pleased with him for
 
 96 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 
 
 having given pain to him whom she hated, or angry with 
 him for having affronted one in whose degradation her 
 own was necessarily involved. There might be other 
 thoughts — on the whole, she regarded him with much 
 though with mute attention. He paid her but little in 
 return, being almost entirely occupied in replying to the 
 questions of the engrossing Lady Penelope Penfeather. 
 
 Receiving polite though rather evasive answers to her 
 inquiries concerning his late avocations, her ladyship 
 could only learn that Tyrrel had been travelling in 
 several remote parts of Europe, and even of Asia. Baf- 
 fled, but not repulsed, the lady continued her courtesy, 
 by pointing out to him, as a stranger, several individuals 
 of the company to whom she proposed introducing him, 
 as persons from whose society he might derive either 
 profit or amusement. In the midst of this sort of con- 
 versation, however, she suddenly stopped short. 
 
 " Will you forgive me, Mr. Tyrrel," she said ? " if I 
 say I have been watching your thoughts for some mo- 
 ments, and that I have detected you ? All the while that 
 I have been talking of these good folks, and that you have 
 been making such civil replies, that they might be with 
 great propriety and utility inserted in the ' Familiar 
 Dialogues, teaching foreigners how to express themselves 
 in English upon ordinary occasions' — your mind has been 
 entirely fixed upon that empty chair, which hath re- 
 mained there opposite betwixt our worthy president and 
 Sir Bingo Binks." 
 
 " I own, madam," he answered, " I was a little sur- 
 prised at seeing such a distinguished seat unoccupied, 
 while the table is rather crowded." 
 
 " 0, confess more, sir ! — Confess that to a poet a seat 
 unoccupied — the chair of Banquo — has more charms than
 
 ST. ronan's well. 97 
 
 if it were filled even as an alderman would fill it. — What 
 if ' the Dark Ladye' * should glide in and occupy it ? — 
 "Would you have courage to stand the vision, Mr. Tyrrel ? 
 — I assure you the thing is not impossible." 
 
 " What is not impossible, Lady Penelope ? " said 
 Tyrrel, somewhat surprised. 
 
 "Startled already? — Nay, then, I despair of your 
 enduring the awful interview." 
 
 " What interview ? who is expected ? " said Tyrrel, 
 unable with the utmost exertion to suppress some signs 
 of curiosity, though he suspected the whole to be merely 
 some mystification of her ladyship. 
 
 " How delighted I am," she said, " that I have found 
 
 out where you are vulnerable ! — Expected — did I say 
 
 expected ? — no, not expected. 
 
 ' She glides, like Night, from land to land, 
 She hath strange power of speech.' 
 
 — But come, I have you at my mercy, and I will be 
 generous and explain. — We call — that is, among our- 
 selves, you understand — Miss Clara Mowbray, the sister 
 of that gentleman that sits next to Miss Parker, the Dark 
 Ladye, and that seat is left for her. — For she was ex- 
 pected — no, not expected — I forget again ! — but it was 
 thought possible she might honour us to-day, when our 
 feast was so full and piquant. — Her brother is our Lord 
 of the Manor — and so they pay her that sort of civility to 
 
 * The Dark Ladye is one of those tantalizing fragments in which 
 Mr. Coleridge has shown us what exquisite powers of poetry he has 
 suffered to remain uncultivated. Let us be thankful for what we have 
 received, however. The unfashioned ore, drawn from so rich a mine, 
 is worth all to which art can add its highest decorations, when drawn 
 from less abundant sources. The verses beginning the poem which 
 are published separately, are said to have soothed the last hours of Mr. 
 Fox. They are the stanzas entitled Love. 
 
 VOL. XXXIII. 7
 
 98 WAVKKLEY NOVELS. 
 
 regard her as a visitor — and neither Lady Binks nor I 
 think of objecting — She is a singular young person, 
 Clara Mowbray — she amuses me very much — I am 
 always rather glad to see her." 
 
 " She is not to come hither to-day," said Tyrrel ; " am 
 I so to understand your ladyship ? " 
 
 " Why, it is past her time — even her time," said Lady 
 Penelope — " dinner was kept back half an hour, and 
 our poor invalids were famishing, as you may see by the 
 deeds they have done since. — But Clara is an odd crea- 
 ture, and if she took it into her head to come hither at 
 this moment, hither she would come — she is very whim- 
 sical. — Many people think her handsome — but she looks 
 so like something from another world, that she makes me 
 always think of Mat Lewis's Spectre Lady." 
 
 And she repeated with much cadence, 
 
 " ' There is a thing — there is a thing, 
 I fain would have from thee; 
 I fain would have that gay gold ring, 
 warrior, give it me ! ' 
 
 " And then you remember his answer : — 
 
 ' This ring Lord Brooke from his daughter took, 
 And a solemn oath he swore, 
 That that ladye my bride should be 
 When this crusade was o'er.' 
 
 You do figures as well as landscapes, I suppose, Mr. 
 Tyrrel? — You shall make a sketch for me — a slight 
 thing — for sketches, I think, show the freedom of art 
 better than finished pieces — I dote on the first corusca- 
 tions of genius — flashing like lightning from the cloud ! 
 You shall make a sketch for my own boudoir — my dear 
 sulky den at Air Castle, and Clara Mowbray shall sit 
 for the Ghost Ladye."
 
 st. bonan's well. 99 
 
 " That would be but a poor compliment to your lady- 
 ship's friend," replied Tyrrel. 
 
 " Friend ? We don't get quite that length, though I 
 like Clara very well. — Quite sentimental cast of face, — I 
 think I saw an antique in the Louvre very like her — (I 
 was there in 1800) — quite an antique countenance — eyes 
 something hollowed — care has dug caves for them, but 
 they are caves of the most beautiful marble arched with 
 jet — a straight nose, and absolutely the Grecian mouth 
 and chin — a profusion of long straight black hair, with 
 the whitest skin you ever saw — as white as the whitest 
 parchment — and not a shade of colour in her cheek — 
 none whatever — If she would be naughty, and borrow a 
 prudent touch of complexion, she might be called beauti- 
 ful. Even as it is, many think her so, although surely, 
 Mr. Tyrrel, three colours are necessary to the female 
 face. However, we used to call her the Melpomene of 
 the Spring last season, as we called Lady Binks — who 
 was not then Lady Binks — our Euphrosyne — Did we 
 not, my dear ? " 
 
 " Did we not what, madam ? " said Lady Binks, in a 
 tone something sharper than ought to have belonged to 
 so beautiful a countenance. 
 
 " I am sorry I have started you out of your reverie, 
 my love," answered Lady Penelope. " I was only as- 
 suring Mr. Tyrrel that you were once Euphrosyne, 
 though now so much under the banners of II Penseroso." 
 
 " I do not know that I have been either one or the 
 other," answered Lady Binks ; " one thing I certainly 
 am not — I am not capable of understanding your lady- 
 ship's wit and learning." 
 
 " Poor soul," whispered Lady Penelope to Tyrrel ; 
 " we know what we are, Ave know not what we may be.
 
 100 "WAVERLEY NOVELS. 
 
 — And now, Mr. Tyrrel, I have been your sibyl to guide 
 you through this Elysium of ours, I think, in reward, I 
 deserve a little confidence in return." 
 
 " If I had any to bestow, which could be in the slight- 
 est degree interesting to your ladyship," answered Tyrrel. 
 
 " Oh ! cruel man — he will not understand me ! " ex- 
 claimed the lady — "In plain words, then, a peep into 
 your portfolio — just to see what objects you have rescued 
 from natural decay, and rendered immortal by the pencil. 
 You do not know — indeed, Mr. Tyrrel, you do not know 
 how I dote upon your 'serenely silent art,' second to 
 poetry alone — equal — superior perhaps — to music." 
 
 " I really have little that could possibly be worth the 
 attention of such a judge as your ladyship," answered 
 Tyrrel; " such trifles as your ladyship has seen, I some- 
 times leave at the foot of the tree I have been sketching." 
 
 " As Orlando, left his verses in the Forest of Ar- 
 dennes ? — 0, the thoughtless prodigality ! — Mr. Winter- 
 blossom, do you hear this ? — We must follow Mr. Tyr- 
 rel in his walks, and glean what he leaves behind 
 him." 
 
 Her ladyship was here disconcerted by some laughter 
 on Sir Bingo's side of the table, which she chastised by 
 an angry glance, and then proceeded emphatically. 
 
 " Mr. Tyrrel, this must not be — this is not the way of 
 the world, my good sir, to which even Genius must stoop 
 its flight. We must consult the engraver — though per- 
 haps you etch as well as you draw ? " 
 
 " I should suppose so," said Mr. Winterblossom, edg- 
 ing in a word with difficulty, " from the freedom of Mr. 
 Tyrrel's touch." 
 
 " I will not deny my having spoiled a little copper 
 now and then," said Tyrrel, " since I am charged with
 
 ST. ronan's well. 101 
 
 the crime by such good judges ; but it has only been by 
 way of experiment." 
 
 " Say no more," said the lady ; " my darling wish is ac- 
 complished ! — We have long desired to have the remark- 
 able and most romantic spots of our little Arcadia here — 
 spots consecrated to friendship, the fine arts, the loves 
 and the graces, immortalized by the graver's art, faithful 
 to its charge of fame — you shall labour on this task, Mr. 
 Tyrrel ; we will all assist with notes and illustrations — 
 we will all contribute — only some of us must be per- 
 mitted to remain anonymous — Fairy favours, you know, 
 Mr. Tyrrel, must be kept secret — And you shall be 
 allowed the pillage of the Album — some sweet things 
 there of Mr. Chatterly's — and Mr. Edgeit, a gentleman 
 of your own profession, I am sure will lend his aid — Dr. 
 Quackleben will contribute some scientific notices. — And 
 for subscription " 
 
 " Financial — financial — your leddyship, I speak to 
 order ! " said the writer, interrupting Lady Penelope 
 with a tone of impudent familiarity, which was meant 
 doubtless for jocular ease. 
 
 " How am I out of order, Mr. Meiklewham ? " said 
 her ladyship, drawing herself up. 
 
 " I speak to order ! — No warrants for money can be 
 extracted before intimation to the Committee of Man- 
 agement." 
 
 " Pray who mentioned money, Mr. Meiklewham ? " 
 said her ladyship. — " That wretched old pettifogger," she 
 added in a whisper to Tyrrel, " thinks of nothing else 
 but the filthy pelf." 
 
 "Ye spake of subscription, my leddy, whilk is the 
 same thing as money, differing only in respect of time — 
 the subscription being a contract defuturo, and having a
 
 102 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 
 
 tractus temporis in gremio — And I have kend mony 
 honest folks in the company at the Well, complain of the 
 subscriptions as a great abuse, as obliging them either to 
 look unlike other folk, or to gie good lawful coin for bal- 
 lants and picture-books, and things they caredna a pinch 
 of snuff for." 
 
 Several of the company at the lower end of the table, 
 assented both by nods and murmurs of approbation ; and 
 the orator was about to proceed, when Tyrrel with diffi- 
 culty procured a hearing before the debate went farther, 
 and assured the company that her ladyship's goodness 
 had led her into an error ; that he had no work in hand 
 worthy of their patronage, and, with the deepest grati- 
 tude for Lady Penelope's goodness, had it not in his 
 power to comply with her request. There was some tit- 
 tering at her ladyship's expense, who, as the writer slyly 
 observed, had been something ultroneous in her patron- 
 age. Without attempting for the moment any rally, (as 
 indeed the time which had passed since the removal of 
 the dinner scarce permitted an opportunity,) Lady Pe- 
 nelope gave the signal for the ladies' retreat, and left the 
 gentlemen to the circulation of the bottle.
 
 ST. ROXAX'S WELL. 103 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE TEA-TABLE. 
 
 While the cups, 
 
 Which cheer, but not inebriate, wait on each. 
 
 Cowpeh. 
 
 It was common at the Well, for the fair guests occa- 
 sionally to give tea to the company, — such at least as, 
 from their rank and leading in the little society, might 
 be esteemed fit to constitute themselves patronesses of an 
 evening ; and the same lady generally carried the author- 
 ity she had acquired into the ball-room, where two fiddles 
 and a bass, at a guinea a night, with a quantum sufficit of 
 tallow-candles, (against the use of which Lady Penelope 
 often mutinied,) enabled the company — to use the appro- 
 priate phrase — " to close the evening on the light fantas- 
 tic toe." 
 
 On the present occasion, the lion of the hour, Mr. 
 Francis Tyrrel, had so little answered the high-wrought 
 expectations of Lady Penelope, that she rather regretted 
 having ever given herself any trouble about him, and 
 particularly that of having manoeuvred herself into the 
 patronage of the tea-table for the evening, to the great 
 expenditure of souchong and congo. Accordingly, her 
 ladyship had no sooner summoned her own woman, and 
 her fille de chambre, to make tea, with her page, footman,
 
 104 WAVEKI.KY NOVELS. 
 
 and postilion, to hand it about, (in which fluty they were 
 assisted by two richly laced and thickly powdered foot- 
 men of Lady Binks's, whose liveries put to shame the 
 more modest garb of Lady Penelope's, and even dimmed 
 the glory of the suppressed coronet upon the buttons,) 
 than she began to vilipend and depreciate what had been 
 so long the object of her curiosity. 
 
 "This Mr. Tyrrel," she said, in a tone of authoritative 
 decision, " seems after all a very ordinary sort of person 
 — quite a commonplace man, who, she dared say, had 
 considered his condition, in going to the old ale-house, 
 much better than they had done for him, when they asked 
 him to the Public Rooms. He had known his own place 
 better than they did — there was nothing uncommon in his 
 appearance or conversation — nothing at all frappant — 
 she scarce believed he could even draw that sketch. Mr. 
 Winterblossom, indeed, made a great deal of it ; but then 
 all the world knew that every scrap of engraving or draw- 
 ing, which Mr. Winterblossom contrived to make his own, 
 was, the instant it came into his collection, the finest thing 
 that ever was seen — that was the way with collectors — 
 their geese were all swans." 
 
 "And your ladyship's swan has proved but a goose, 
 my dearest Lady Pen," said Lady Binks. 
 
 " My swan, dearest Lady Binks ! T really do not know 
 how I have deserved the appropriation." 
 
 " Do not be angry, my dear Lady Penelope ; I only 
 mean, that for a fortnight and more you have spoken 
 constantly of this Mr. Tyrrel, and all dinner-time you 
 spoke to him." 
 
 The fair company began to collect around, at hearing 
 the word dear so often repeated in the same brief dia- 
 logue, which induced them to expect sport, and, like the
 
 ST. ronan's -well. 105 
 
 vulgar on a similar occasion, to form a ring for the ex- 
 pected combatants. 
 
 " He sat betwixt us, Lady Binks," answered Lady 
 Penelope, with dignity. " You had your usual headach, 
 you know, and for the credit of the company, I spoke for 
 one." 
 
 " For two, if your ladyship pleases," replied Lady 
 Binks. " I mean," she added, softening the expression, 
 " for yourself and me." 
 
 "I am sorry," said Lady Penelope, "I should have 
 spoken for one who can speak so smartly for herself, as 
 my dear Lady Binks — I did not, by any means, desire to 
 engross the conversation — I repeat it, there is a mistake 
 about this man." 
 
 " I think there is," said Lady Binks, in a tone which 
 implied something more than mere assent to Lady Pe- 
 nelope's proposition. 
 
 " I doubt if he is an artist at all," said the Lady Pe- 
 nelope ; " or if he is, he must be doing things for some 
 Magazine, or Encyclopedia, or some such matter." 
 
 " / doubt, too, if he be a professional artist," said Lady 
 Binks. " If so, he is of the very highest class, for I have 
 seldom seen a better-bred man." 
 
 " There are very well-bred artists," said Lady Pe- 
 nelope. " It is the profession of a gentleman." 
 
 " Certainly," answered Lady Binks ; " but the poorer 
 class have often to struggle with poverty and dependence. 
 In general society, they are like commercial people in 
 presence of their customers ; and that is a difficult part 
 to sustain. And so you see them of all sorts — shy and 
 reserved, when they are consciuus of merit — petulant and 
 whimsical, by way of showing their independence — intru- 
 sive, in order to appear easy — and sometimes obsequious
 
 106 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 
 
 and fawning, when they chance to be of a mean spirit. 
 But you seldom see them quite at their ease, and there- 
 fore I hold this Mr. Tyrrel to be either an artist of the 
 first class, raised completely above~ the necessity and deg- 
 radation of patronage, or else to be no professional artist 
 at all." 
 
 Lady Penelope looked at Lady Binks with much such 
 a regard as Balaam may have cast upon his ass, when he 
 discovered the animal's capacity for holding an argument 
 with him. She muttered to herself — 
 
 " Mm. dne park, et meme il parle Men!" 
 
 But declining the altercation which Lady Binks seemed 
 disposed to enter into, she replied with good-humour, 
 " Well, dearest Rachel, we will not pull caps about this 
 man — nay, I think your good opinion of him gives him 
 new value in my eyes. That is always the way with us, 
 my good friend! We may confess it, when there are 
 none of these conceited male wretches among us. We 
 will know what he really is — he shall not wear fern- 
 seed, and walk among us invisible thus — what say you, 
 Maria ? " 
 
 " Indeed, I say, dear Lady Penelope," answered Miss 
 Digges, whose ready chatter we have already introduced 
 to the reader, " he is a very handsome man, though his 
 nose is too big, and his mouth too wide — but his teeth are 
 like pearl — and he has such eyes ! — especially when your 
 ladyship spoke to him. I don't think you looked at his 
 e y es — they are quite deep and dark, and full of glow, 
 like what you read to us in the letter from that lady, 
 about Robert Burns." 
 
 " Upon my word, miss, you come on finely," said Lady 
 Penelope. — " One had need take care what they read or
 
 ST. RONAN'S "WELL. 107 
 
 talk about before you, I see — Come, Jones, have mercy 
 upon us — put an end to that symphony of tinkling cups 
 and saucers, and let the first act of the tea-table begin, if 
 you please." 
 
 " Does her leddyship mean the grace," said honest Mrs. 
 Blower, for the first time admitted into this worshipful 
 society, and busily employed in arranging an Indian 
 handkerchief, that might have made a mainsail for one of 
 her husband's smuggling luggers, which she spread care- 
 fully on her knee, to prevent damage to a flowered black 
 silk gown from the repast of tea and cake, to which she 
 proposed to do due honour, — " Does her leddyship mean 
 the grace ? I see the minister is just coming in. — Her 
 leddyship waits till ye say a blessing, an ye please, sir." 
 
 Mr. Winterblossom, who toddled after the chaplain, his 
 toe having given him an alert hint to quit the dining- 
 table, though he saw every feature in the poor woman's 
 face swollen with desire to procure information concern- 
 ing the ways and customs of the place, passed on the 
 other side of the way, regardless of her agony of curi- 
 osity. 
 
 A moment after, she was relieved by the entrance of 
 Dr. Quackleben, whose maxim being, that one patient 
 was as well worth attention as another, and who knew by 
 experience, that the honoraria of a godly wife of the 
 Bow-head were as apt to be forthcoming (if not more 
 so) as my Lady Penelope's, he e'en sat himself quietly 
 down by Mrs. Blower, and proceeded with the utmost 
 kindness to inquire after her health, and to hope she had 
 not forgotten Uiking a table-spoonful of spirits burnt to a 
 residuum, in order to qualify the crudities. 
 
 " Indeed, Doctor," said the honest woman, " I loot the 
 brandy burn as lang as I dought look at the gude creature
 
 108 WAVERLET NOVELS. 
 
 wasting its sell that gate — and then, when I was fain to 
 put it out for very thrift, I did take a thimbleful of it, 
 (although it is not the thing I am used to, Dr. Quackle- 
 ben,) and I winna say but that, it did me good." 
 
 " Unquestionably, madam," said the Doctor. " I am 
 no friend to the use of alcohol in general, but there are 
 particular cases — there are particular cases, Mrs. Blower 
 — My venerated instructor, one of the greatest men in 
 our profession that ever lived, took a wine-glassful of old 
 rum, mixed with sugar, every day after his dinner." 
 
 " Ay ? dear heart, he would be a comfortable doctor 
 that," said Mrs. Blower. " He wad maybe ken some- 
 thing of my case. Is he living, think ye, sir ? " 
 
 " Dead for many years, madam," said Dr. Quackleben ; 
 " and there are but few of his pupils that can fill his place, 
 I assure ye. If I could be thought an exception, it is 
 only because I was a favourite. Ah ! blessings on the 
 old red cloak of him ! — It covered more of the healing 
 science than the gowns of a whole modern university." 
 
 " There is ane, sir," said Mrs. Blower, " that has been 
 muckle recommended about Edinburgh — Macgregor, I 
 think they ca' him — folk come far and near to see 
 him." * 
 
 " I know whom you mean, ma'am — a clever man — no 
 denying it — a clever man — but there are certain cases — 
 yours, for example — and I think that of many that come 
 to drink this water — which I cannot say I think he per- 
 fectly understands — hasty — very hasty and rapid. Now 
 I — I give the disease its own way at first — then watch it, 
 Mrs. Blower — watch the turn of the tide." 
 
 * The late Dr. Gregory is probably intimated, as one of the cele- 
 brated Dr. Cullen's personal habits is previously mentioned. Dr. 
 Gregory was distinguished for putting his patients on a severe 
 regimen.
 
 ST. ronan's well. 109 
 
 " Ay, troth, that's true," responded the widow ; " John 
 Blower was aye watching turn of tide, puir man." 
 
 " Then he is a starving Doctor, Mrs. Blower — reduces 
 diseases as soldiers do towns — by famine, not considering 
 that the friendly inhabitants suffer as much as the hostile 
 garrison — ahem ! " 
 
 Here he gave an important and emphatic cough, and 
 then proceeded. 
 
 " I am no friend either to excess or to violent stimulus, 
 Mrs. Blower — but nature must be supported — a generous 
 diet — cordials judiciously thrown in — not without the 
 advice of a medical man — that is my opinion, Mrs. 
 Blower, to speak as a friend — others may starve their 
 patients if they have a mind." 
 
 " It wadna do for me, the starving, Dr. Keekerben," 
 said the alarmed relict, — " it wadna do for me at a' — Just 
 a' I can do to wear through the day with the sma' sup- 
 ports that nature requires — not a soul to look after me, 
 Doctor, since John Blower was ta'en awa. — Thank ye 
 kindly, sir," (to the servant who handed the tea,) — 
 " thank ye, my bonny man," (to the page who served the 
 ca ke) — " Now, dinna ye think, Doctor," (in a low and 
 confidential voice,) " that her leddyship's tea is rather 
 of the weakliest — water bewitched, I think — and Mrs. 
 Jones, as they ca' her, has cut the seed-cake very thin ? " 
 
 " It is the fashion, Mrs. Blower," answered Dr. Quack- 
 leben ; " and her ladyship's tea is excellent. But your 
 taste is a little chilled, which is not uncommon at the 
 first use of the waters, so that you are not sensible of 
 the flavour — we must support the system — reinforce the 
 digestive powers — give me leave — you are a stranger, 
 Mrs. Blower, and we must take care of you — I have an 
 elixir which will put that matter to rights in a moment."
 
 110 WWERLEY NOVELS. 
 
 So saying, Dr. Quackleben pulled from his pocket a 
 small portable case of medicines — " Catch me without 
 my tools" — he said ; " here I have the real useful phar- 
 macopoeia — the rest is all humbug and hard names — this 
 little case, with a fortnight or month, spring and fall, at 
 St. Ronan's Well, and no one will die till his day come." 
 
 Thus boasting, the Doctor drew from his case a large 
 vial or small flask, full of a high coloured liquid, of which 
 he mixed three tea-spoonfuls in Mrs. Blower's cup, who 
 immediately afterwards allowed that the flavour was im- 
 proved beyond all belief, and that it was " vera comforta- 
 ble and i-estorative indeed." 
 
 " Will it not do good to my complaints, Doctor ? " said 
 Mr. Winterblossom, who had strolled towards them, and 
 held out his cup to the physician. 
 
 " I by no means recommend it, Mr. Winterblossom," 
 said Dr. Quackleben, shutting up his case with great 
 coolness ; "your case is cedematous, and you treat it your 
 own way — you are as good a physician as I am, and I 
 never interfere with another practitioner's patient." 
 
 " Well, Doctor," said Winterblossom, " I must wait 
 till Sir Bingo comes in — he has a hunting-flask usually 
 about him, which contains as good medicine as yours to 
 the full." 
 
 " You will wait for Sir Bingo some time," said the 
 Doctor, " he is a gentleman of sedentary habits — he has 
 ordered another magnum." 
 
 " Sir Bingo is an unco name for a man o' quality, 
 dinna ye think sae, Dr. Cocklehen ? " said Mrs. Blower. 
 " John Blower, when he was a wee bit in the wind's eye, 
 as he ca'd it, puir fallow — used to sing a sang about a 
 dog they ca'd Bingo, that suld hae belanged to a farmer." 
 
 " Our Bingo is but a puppy yet, madam — or if a dog
 
 ST. roxan's well. Ill 
 
 lie is a sad dog," said Mr. Winterblossom, applauding bis 
 own wit, by one of his own inimitable smiles. 
 
 " Or a mad dog, rather," said Mr. Chatterly, " for he 
 drinks no water ; " and he also smiled gracefully at the 
 thoughts of having trumped, as it were, the president's 
 pun. 
 
 " Twa pleasant men, Doctor," said the widow, " and 
 so is Sir Bungy too, for that matter ; but O ! is nae it a 
 pity he should bide sae lang by the bottle ? It was puir 
 John Blower's fault too, that weary tippling ; when he 
 wan to the lee-side of a bowl of punch, there was nae 
 raising him. — But they are taking awa the things, and, 
 Doctor, is it not an awfu' thing, that the creature com- 
 forts should hae been used without grace or thanksgiv- 
 ing ? — that Mr. Chitterling, if he really be a minister, 
 has muckle to answer for, that he neglects his Master's 
 service." 
 
 " Why, madam," said the Doctor, " Mr. Chatterly is 
 scarce arrived at the rank of a minister plenipotentiary." 
 
 " A minister potentiary — ah, Doctor, I doubt that is 
 some jest of yours," said the widow ; " that's sae like puir 
 John Blower. When I wad hae had him gie up the 
 Lovely Peggy, ship and cargo, (the vessel was named 
 after me, Doctor Kittleben,) to be remembered in the 
 prayers o' the congregation, he wad sae to me, ' they may 
 pray that stand the risk, Peggy Bryce, for I've made in- 
 surance.' He was a merry man, Doctor ; but he had the 
 root of the matter in him, for a' his light way of speak- 
 ing, as deep as ony skipper that ever loosed anchor from 
 Leith Roads. I hae been a forsaken creature since his 
 death — O the weary days and nights that 1 have had ! 
 — and the weight on the spirits — the spirits, Doctor ! — 
 though I canna say I hae been easier since I hae been
 
 112 AYAVERLEY NOVELS. 
 
 at the Wall than oven now — if I kend what I was awing 
 ye for eliekstir, Doctor, for it's done Hie muckle heart's 
 good, forhy the opening of my mind to you ? " 
 
 " Fie, fie, ma'am," said the Doctor, as the widow pulled 
 out a sealskin pouch, such as sailors carry tobacco in, 
 but apparently well stuffed with bank-notes, — " Fie, fie, 
 madam — I am no apothecary — I have my diploma from 
 Leyden — a regular physician, madam, — the elixir is 
 heartily at your service ; and should you want any ad- 
 vice, no man will be prouder to assist you than your 
 humble servant." 
 
 " I am sure I am muckle obliged to your kindness, Dr. 
 Kickalpin," said the widow, folding up her pouch ; " this 
 was puir John Blower's spleuchan,* as they ca' it — I 
 e'en wear it for his sake. He was a kind man, and left 
 me comfortable in warld's gudes ; but comforts hae their 
 cumbers, — to be a lone woman is a sair weird, Dr. Kit- 
 tlepin." 
 
 Dr. Quackleben drew his chair a little nearer that of 
 the widow, and entered into a closer communication with 
 her, in a tone doubtless of more delicate consolation than 
 was fit for the ears of the company at large. 
 
 One of the chief delights of a watering-place is, that 
 every one's affairs seem to be put under the special suz*- 
 veillance of the whole company, so that, in all probability, 
 the various flirtations, liaisons, and so forth, which natur- 
 ally take place in the society, are not only the subject of 
 amusement to the parties engaged, but also to the lookers 
 on ; that is to say, generally speaking, to the whole 
 community, of which for the time the said parties are 
 members. Lady Penelope, the presiding goddess of the 
 region, watchful over all her circle, was not long of ob- 
 * A fur pouch for keeping tobacco.
 
 ST. ronan's avell. 113 
 
 serving that the Doctor seemed to be suddenly engaged 
 in close communication with the widow, and that he had 
 even ventured to take hold of her fair plump hand, with 
 a manner which partook at once of the gallant suitor, and 
 of the medical adviser. 
 
 " For the love of Heaven," said her ladyship, " who 
 can that comely dame be, on whom our excellent and 
 learned Doctor looks with such uncommon regard ? " 
 
 " Fat, fair, and forty," said Mr. Winterblossom ; " that 
 is all I know of her — a mercantile person." 
 
 " A carrack, Sir President," said the chaplain, " richly 
 laden with colonial produce, by name the Lovely Peggy 
 Bryce — no master — the late John Blower of North Leith 
 having pushed off his boat for the Stygian Creek, and 
 left the vessel without a hand on board." 
 
 " The Doctor," said Lady Penelope, turning her glass 
 towards them, " seems willing to play the part of pilot." 
 
 " I dare say he will be willing to change her name and 
 register," said Mr. Chatterly. 
 
 " He can be no less in common requital," said Winter- 
 blossom. " She has changed his name six times in the 
 five minutes that I stood within hearing of them." 
 
 " What do you think of the matter, my dear Lady 
 Binks ? " said Lady Penelope. 
 
 " Madam ? " said Lady Binks, starting from a reverie, 
 and answering as one who either had not heard, or did 
 not understand the question. 
 
 " I mean, what think you of what is going on yonder ? " 
 
 Lady Binks turned her glass in the direction of Lady 
 Penelope's glance, fixed the widow and the Doctor with 
 one bold fashionable stare, and then dropping her hand 
 slowly, said with indifference, " I really see nothing there 
 worth thinking about." 
 
 vol. xxxm. 8
 
 114 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 
 
 " I dare say it is a fine thing to be married," said Lady 
 Penelope ; " one's thoughts, I suppose, are so much 
 engrossed with one's own perfect happiness, that they 
 have neither time nor inclination to laugh like other folks. 
 Miss Rachel Bonnyrigg would have laughed till her eyes 
 ran over, had she seen what Lady Binks cares so little 
 about — I dare say it must be an all-sufficient happiness 
 to be married." 
 
 " He would be a happy man that could convince your 
 ladyship of that in good earnest," said Mr. Winter- 
 blossom. 
 
 " Oh, who knows — the whim may strike me," replied 
 the lady ; " but no — no — no ; — and that is three times." 
 
 " Say it sixteen times more," said the gallant president, 
 " and let nineteen nay-says be a grant." 
 
 " If I should say a thousand Noes, there exists not the 
 alchymy in living man that could extract one Yes, out of 
 the whole mass," said her ladyship. " Blessed be the 
 memory of Queen Bess ! — She set us all an example to 
 keep power when we have it — What noise is that ? " 
 
 " Only the usual after-dinner quarrel," said the divine. 
 " I hear the Captain's voice, else most silent, commanding 
 them to keep peace, in the devil's name and that of the 
 ladies." 
 
 " Upon my word, dearest Lady Binks, this is too bad 
 of that lord and master of yours, and of Mowbray, who 
 micht have more sense, and of the rest of that claret- 
 drinking set, to be quarrelling and alarming our nerves 
 every evening with presenting their pistols perpetually at 
 each other, like sportsmen confined to the house upon a 
 rainy 12th of August. I am tired of the Peace-maker — 
 he but skins the business over in one case to have it 
 break out elsewhere. — What think you, love, if we were
 
 ST. ronan's well. 115 
 
 to give out in orders, that the next quarrel which may 
 arise, shall be bond fide fought to an end ? — We will all 
 go out and see it, and wear the colours on each side ; and 
 if there should a funeral come of it, we will attend it in a 
 body. — Weeds are so becoming ! — Are they not, my dear 
 Lady Binks ? Look at Widow Blower in her deep black 
 — don't you envy her, my love ? " 
 
 Lady Binks seemed about to make a sharp and hasty 
 answer, but checked herself, perhaps under the recollec- 
 tion that she could not prudently come to an open breach 
 with Lady Penelope. — At the same moment the door 
 opened, and a lady dressed in a riding-habit, and wearing 
 a black veil over her hat, appeared at the entry of the 
 apartment. 
 
 " Angels and ministers of grace ! " exclaimed Lady 
 Penelope, with her very best tragic start — " My dearest 
 Clara, why so late ? and why thus ? Will you step to 
 my dressing-room — Jones will get you one of my gowns 
 — we are just of a size, you know — do pray — let me be 
 vain of something of my own for once, by seeing you 
 wear it." 
 
 This was spoken in the tone of the fondest female 
 friendship, and at the same time the fair hostess bestowed 
 on Miss Mowbray one of those tender caresses, which 
 ladies — God bless them ! — sometimes bestow on each 
 other with unnecessary prodigality, to the great discon- 
 tent and envy of the male spectators. 
 
 " You are fluttered, my clearest Clara — you are fever- 
 ish — I am sure you are," continued the sweetly anxious 
 Lady Penelope ; " let me persuade you to lie down." 
 
 "Indeed you are mistaken, Lady Penelope," said 
 Misa Mowbray, who seemed to receive much as a matter 
 of course her ladyship's profusion of affectionate polite-
 
 1,16 WAVKKLEY NOVELS. 
 
 aess : — " I am heated, and my pony trotted hard, that is 
 the whole mystery. — Let me have a cup of tea, Mrs. 
 Jones, and the matter is ended." 
 
 " Fresh tea, Jones, directly," said Lady Penelope, and 
 led her passive friend to her own corner, as she was 
 pleased to call the recess, in which she held her little 
 court — ladies and gentlemen curtsying and bowing as 
 she passed ; to which civilities the new guest made no 
 more return than the most ordinary politeness rendered 
 unavoidable. 
 
 Lady Binks did not rise to receive her, but sat upright 
 in her chair, and bent her head very stiffly ; a courtesy 
 which Miss Mowbray returned in the same stately man- 
 ner, without farther greeting on either side. 
 
 " Now, wha can that be, Doctor ? " said the Widow 
 Blower — " mind ye have promised to tell me all about 
 the grand folk — wha can that be that Leddy Penelope 
 hauds such a racket wi' ? — and what for does she come 
 wi' a habit and a beaver-hat, when we are a' (a glance at 
 her own gown) in our silks and satins ? " 
 
 " To tell you who she is, my dear Mrs. Blower, is very 
 easy," said the "officious Doctor. " She is Miss Clara 
 Mowbray, sister to the Lord of the Manor — the gentle- 
 man who wears the green coat, with an arrow on the 
 cape. To tell why she wears that habit, or does anything 
 else, would be rather beyond doctor's skill. Truth is I 
 have always thought she was a little — a very little — 
 touched — call it nerves — hypochondria — or what you 
 will." 
 
 " Lord help us, puir thing ! " said the compassionate 
 widow. — " And troth it looks like it. But it's a shame to 
 let her go loose, Doctor — she might hurt hersell, or some- 
 body. See, she has ta'en the knife ! — 0, it's only to cut
 
 ST. ronan's well. 117 
 
 a shave of the diet-loaf. She winna let the powder- 
 monkey of a boy help her. There's judgment in that 
 though, Doctor, for she can cut thick or thin as she likes. 
 — Dear me ! she has not taken mair than a crumb, that 
 ane would pit between the wires of a canary-bird's cage, 
 after all. — I wish she would lift up that lang veil, or put 
 aff that riding skirt, Doctor. She should really be 
 showed the regulations, Doctor Kickelshin." 
 
 " She cares about no rules we can make, Mrs. Blower," 
 said the Doctor ; " and her brother's will and pleasure, 
 and Lady Penelope's whim of indulging her, carry her 
 through in every thing. They should take advice on her 
 case." 
 
 " Ay, truly it's time to take advice, when young crea- 
 tures like her caper in amang dressed leddies, just as if 
 they were come from scampering on Leith sands. — 
 Such a wark as my leddy makes wi' her, Doctor ! Ye 
 would think they were baith fools of a feather." 
 
 " They might have flown on one wing, for what I 
 know," said Dr. Quackleben ; " but there was early and 
 sound advice taken in Lady Penelope's case. My friend, 
 the late Earl of Featherhead, was a man of judgment — 
 did little in his family but by rule of medicine — so that, 
 what with the waters, and what with my own care, Lady 
 Penelope is only freakish — fanciful — that's all — and her 
 quality bears it out — the peccant principle might have 
 broken out under other treatment." 
 
 " Ay — she has been weel-friended," said the widow ; 
 "but this bairn Mowbray, puir thing! how came she to 
 be sae left to hersell ? " 
 
 " Her mother was dead — her father thought of nothing 
 but his sports," said the Doctor. " Her brother was edu- 
 cated in England, and cared for nobody but himself, if he
 
 118 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 
 
 bad been here. What education she got was at her own 
 hand — what reading she read was in a library full of old 
 romances — what friends or company she had was what 
 chance sent her — then no family-physician, not even a 
 good surgeon within ten miles ! And so you cannot won- 
 der if the poor thing became unsettled ! " 
 
 " Puir thing ! — no doctor ! — nor even a surgeon ! — 
 But, Doctor," said the widow, " maybe the puir thing 
 had the enjoyment of her health ye ken, and then" 
 
 "Ah ? ha, ha ! — why then, madam, she needed a phy- 
 sician far more than if she had been delicate. A skilful 
 physician, Mrs. Blower, knows how to bring down that 
 robust health, which is a very alarming state of the frame 
 when it is considered secundum artem. Most sudden 
 deaths happen when people are in a robust state of 
 health. Ah ! that state of perfect health is what the 
 doctor dreads niost on behalf of his patient." 
 
 " Ay, ay, Doctor ! — I am quite sensible, nae doubt," 
 said the widow, "of the great advantage of having a 
 skeelfu' person about ane." 
 
 Here the Doctor's voice, in his earnestness to convince 
 Mrs. Blower of the danger of supposing herself capable 
 of living and breathing without a medical man's permis- 
 sion, sunk into a soft pleading tone, of which our reporter 
 could not catch the sound. He was, as great orators will 
 sometimes be, " inaudible in the gallery." 
 
 Meanwhile, Lady Penelope overwhelmed Clara Mow- 
 bray with her caresses. In what degree her ladyship, at 
 her heart, loved this young person, might be difficult to 
 ascertain, — probably in the degree in which a child loves 
 a favourite toy. But Clara was a toy not always to be 
 come by — as whimsical in her way as her ladyship in her 
 own, only that poor Clara's singularities were real, and
 
 ST. ronan's well. 119 
 
 her ladyship's chiefly affected. Without adopting the 
 harshness of the Doctor's conclusions concerning the 
 former, she was certainly unequal in her spirits ; and her 
 occasional fits of levity were chequered by very long in- 
 tervals of sadness. Her levity also appeared, in the 
 world's eye, greater than it really was ; for she had never 
 been under the restraint of society which was really 
 good, and entertained an undue contempt for that which 
 she sometimes mingled with ; having unhappily none to 
 teach her the important truth, that some forms and re- 
 straints are to be observed, less in respect to others than 
 to ourselves. Her dress, her manners, and her ideas, 
 were therefore very much her own ; and though they 
 became her wonderfully, yet like Ophelia's garlands, and 
 wild snatches of melody, they were calculated to excite 
 compassion and melancholy, even while they amused the 
 observer. 
 
 " And why came you not to dinner ? — We expected 
 you — your throne was prepared ? " 
 
 " I had scarce come to tea," said Miss Mowbray, " of 
 my own free will. But my brother says your ladyship 
 pi-oposes to come to Shaws-Castle, and he insisted it was 
 quite right and necessary, to confirm you in so flattering 
 a purpose, that I should come and say, Pray do, Lady 
 Penelope ; and so now here am I to say, Pray, do 
 come." 
 
 " Is an invitation so flattering limited to me alone, my 
 dear Clara? — Lady Links will be jealous." 
 
 " Bring Lady Binks, if she has the condescension to 
 honour us " — [a bow was very stiffly exchanged between 
 the ladies] — " bring Mr. Springblossom — Winterblossom 
 — and all the lions and lionesses — we have room for the 
 whole collection. My brother, I suppose, will bring his
 
 1*20 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 
 
 own particular regiment of bears, which, with the usual 
 assortment of monkeys seen in all caravans, will complete 
 the menagerie. How you are to be entertained at Shaws- 
 Castle, is, I thank Heaven, not my business, but John's." 
 
 " We shall want no formal entertainment, my love," 
 said Lady Penelope; "a dejeuner a la fourchette — we 
 know, Clara, you would die of doing the honours of a 
 formal dinner." 
 
 " Not a bit ; I should live long enough to make my 
 will, and bequeath all large parties to Old Nick, who in- 
 vented them." 
 
 " Miss Mowbray," said Lady Binks, who had been 
 thwarted by this free-spoken young lady, both in her 
 former character of a coquette and romp, and in that of 
 a prude which she at present wore — " Miss Mowbray 
 declares for 
 
 Champagne and a chicken at last.' " 
 
 " The chicken, without the champagne, if you please," 
 said Miss Mowbray ; " I have known ladies pay dear 
 to have champagne on the board. — By the by, Lady Pe- 
 nelope, you have not your collection in the same order 
 and discipline as Pidcock and Polito. There was much 
 growling and snarling in the lower den when I passed 
 it." 
 
 " It was feeding time, my love," said Lady Penelope : 
 " and the lower animals of every class become pugna- 
 cious at that hour — you see all our safer and well-condi- 
 tioned animals are loose, and in good order." 
 
 " Oh, yes — in the keeper's presence, you know — Well, 
 I must venture to cross the hall again araonj; all that 
 growling and grumbling — I would I had the fairy prince's 
 quarters of mutton to toss among them if they should
 
 ST. ROXAX'S WELL. 121 
 
 break out — He, I mean, who fetched water from the 
 Fountain of Lions. However, on second thoughts, I 
 will take the back way, and avoid them. — "What says 
 honest Bottom? — 
 
 ' For if they should as lions come in strife 
 Into such place, 'twere pity of their life.' " 
 
 " Shall I go with you, my dear ? " said Lady Pe- 
 nelope. 
 
 " No — I have too great a soul for that — I think some 
 of them are lions only as far as the hide is concerned." 
 
 " But why would you go so soon, Clara ? " 
 
 " Because my errand is finished — have I not invited 
 you and yours ? and would not Lord Chesterfield himself 
 allow I have done the polite thing ? " 
 
 " But you have spoke to none of the company — how 
 can you be so odd, my love ? " said her ladyship. 
 
 " Why, I spoke to them all when I spoke to you and 
 Lady Binks — but I am a good girl, and will do as I am 
 bid." 
 
 So saying, she looked round the company, and addressed 
 each of them with an affectation of interest and politeness, 
 which thinly concealed scorn and contempt. 
 
 " Mr. Winterblossom, I hope the gout is better — Mr. 
 Robert Rymar — (I have escaped calling him Thomas for 
 once) — I hope the public give encouragement to the 
 muses — Mr. Keelavine, I trust your pencil is busy — Mr. 
 Chatterly, I have no doubt your flock improves — Dr. 
 Quackleben, I am sure your patients recover. — These are 
 all the especials of the worthy company I know — for the 
 rest, health to the sick, and pleasure to the healthy." 
 
 " You are not going in reality, my love ? " said Lady 
 Penelope ; " these hasty rides agitate your nerves — they
 
 122 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 
 
 do, indeed — you should be cautious — Shall I speak to 
 Quackleben?" 
 
 " To neither quack nor quackle, on my account, my 
 dear lady. It is not as you wouid seem to say, by your 
 winking at Lady Binks — it is not, indeed — I shall be no 
 Lady Clementina, to be the wonder and pity of the spring 
 of St. Ronan's — No Ophelia neither — though I will say 
 with her, Good-night, ladies — Good-night, sweet ladies ! 
 — and now — not my coach, my coach — but my horse, my 
 horse ! " 
 
 So saying, she tripped out of the room by a side pas- 
 sage, leaving the ladies looking at each other significantly, 
 and shaking their heads with an expression of much im- 
 port. 
 
 " Something has ruffled the poor unhappy girl," said 
 Lady Penelope ; " I never saw her so very odd before." 
 
 " Were I to speak my mind," said Lady Binks, " I 
 think, as Mrs. Highmore says in the farce, her madness 
 is but a poor excuse for her impertinence." 
 
 " Oh fie ! my sweet Lady Binks," said Lady Penelope, 
 " spare my poor favourite ! You, surely, of all others, 
 should forgive the excesses of an amiable eccentricity of 
 temper. — Forgive me, my love, but I must defend an 
 absent friend — My Lady Binks, I am very sure, is too 
 generous and candid to 
 
 ' Hate for arts which caused herself to rise.' " 
 
 " Not being conscious of any high elevation, my lady," 
 answered Lady Binks, " I do not know any arts I have 
 been under the necessity of practising to attain it. I 
 suppose a Scotch lady of an ancient family may become 
 the wife of an English baronet, and no very extraordinary 
 great cause to wonder at it."
 
 ST. RONAN'S "WELL. 123 
 
 " No, surely — but people in this world will, you know, 
 wonder at nothing," answered Lady Penelope. 
 
 " If you envy me my poor quiz, Sir Bingo, I'll get 
 you a better, Lady Pen." 
 
 " I don't doubt your talents, my dear ; but when I 
 want one, I will get one for myself. — But here comes the 
 whole party of quizzes. — Joliffe, offer the gentlemen tea 
 — then get the floor ready for the dancers, and set the 
 card-tables in the next room "
 
 124 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 AFTER DINNER. 
 
 They draw the cork, they broach the barrel, 
 And first they kiss, and then they quarrel. 
 
 Prior. 
 
 If the reader has attended much to the manners of 
 the canine race, he may have remarked the very differ- 
 ent manner in which the individuals of the different 
 sexes carry on their quarrels among each other. The 
 females are testy, petulant, and very apt to indulge their 
 impatient dislike of each other's presence, or the spirit 
 of rivalry which it produces, in a sudden bark and snap, 
 which last is generally made as much at advantage as 
 possible. But these ebullitions of peevishness lead to no 
 very serious or prosecuted conflict ; the affair begins and 
 ends in a moment. Not so the ire of the male dogs, 
 which, once produced, and excited by growls of mutual 
 offence and defiance, leads generally to a fierce and ob- 
 stinate contest ; in which, if the parties be dogs of game, 
 and well matched, they grapple, throttle, tear, roll each 
 other in the kennel, and can only be separated by choking 
 them with their own collars, till they lose wind and hold 
 at the same time, or by surprising them out of their 
 wrath by sousing them with cold water. 
 
 The simile, though a currish one, will hold good in its
 
 ST. roxax's well. 125 
 
 application to the human race. While the ladies in the 
 tea-room of the Fox Hotel were engaged in the light 
 snappish velitation, or skirmish, which we have described, 
 the gentlemen who remained in the parlour were more 
 than once like to have quarrelled more seriously. 
 
 "We have mentioned the weighty reasons which induced 
 Mr. Mowbray to look upon the stranger, whom a general 
 invitation had brought into their society, with unfavour- 
 able prepossessions ; and these were far from being 
 abated by the demeanour of Tyrrel, which, though per- 
 fectly well-bred, indicated a sense of equality, which the 
 young Laird of St. Ronan's considered as extremely pre- 
 sumptuous. 
 
 As for Sir Bingo, he already began to nourish the gen- 
 uine hatred always entertained by a mean spirit against 
 an antagonist before whom it is conscious of having made 
 a dishonourable retreat. He forgot not the manner, look, 
 and tone, with which Tyrrel had checked his unauthor- 
 ized intrusion ; and though he had sunk beneath it at the 
 moment, the recollection rankled in his heart as an 
 affront to be avenged. As he drank his wine, courage, 
 the want of which was, in his more sober moments, a 
 check upon his bad temper, began to inflame his malig- 
 nity, and he ventured upon several occasions to show his 
 spleen, by contradicting Tyrrel more flatly than good 
 manners permitted upon so short an acquaintance, and 
 without any provocation. Tyrrel saw his ill humour, and 
 despised it, as that of an overgrown schoolboy, whom it 
 was not worth his while to answer according to his folly. 
 
 One of the apparent causes of the Baronet's rudeness 
 was indeed childish enough. The company were talking 
 of shooting, the most animating topic of conversation 
 among Scottish country gentlemen of the younger class,
 
 126 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 
 
 and Tyrrel had mentioned soraetliing of a favourite set- 
 ter, an uncommonly handsome dog, from which he had 
 been for some time separated, but which he expected 
 would rejoin him in the course ef next week. 
 
 "A setter!" retorted Sir Bingo, with a sneer; "a 
 pointer, I suppose you mean ! " 
 
 " No, sir," said Tyrrel ; "lam perfectly aware of the 
 difference betwixt a setter and a pointer, and I know the 
 old-fashioned setter is become unfashionable among mod- 
 em sportsmen. But I love my dog as a companion, as 
 well as for his merits in the field ; and a setter is more 
 sagacious, more attached, and fitter for his place on the 
 hearth-rug, than a pointer — not," he added, " from any 
 deficiency of intellects on the pointer's part, but he is 
 generally so abused while in the management of brutal 
 breakers and grooms, that he loses all excepting his pro- 
 fessional accomplishments, of finding and standing steady 
 to game." 
 
 " And who the d — 1 desires he should have more ? " 
 said Sir Bingo. 
 
 "Many people, Sir Bingo," replied Tyrrel, "have 
 been of opinion, that both dogs and men may follow 
 sport indifferently well, though they do happen, at the 
 same time, to be fit for mixing in friendly intercourse in 
 society." 
 
 " That is, for licking trenchers, and scratching copper, 
 I suppose," said the Baronet sotto voce ; and added, in a 
 louder and more distinct tone, — " He never before heard 
 that a setter was fit to follow any man's heels but a 
 poacher's." 
 
 " You know it now then, Sir Bingo," answered Tyrrel ; 
 " and I hope you will not fall into so great a mistake 
 again."
 
 ST. RONAX'S WELL. 127 
 
 The Peace-maker here seemed to think his interfer- 
 ence necessary, and, surmounting his taciturnity, made 
 the following pithy speech : — " By Cot ! and do you see, 
 as you are looking for my opinion, I think there is no 
 dispute in the matter — because, by Cot ! it occurs to me, 
 d'ye see, that ye are both right, by Cot ! It may do fery 
 well for my excellent friend Sir Bingo, who hath stables, 
 and kennels, and what not, to maintain the six filthy 
 prutes that are yelping and yowling all the tay, and all 
 the neight too, under my window, by Cot ! — And if they 
 are yelping and yowling there, may I never die, but I 
 wish they were yelping and yowling somewhere else. 
 But then there is many a man who may be as cood a 
 gentleman at the bottom as my worthy friend Sir Bingo, 
 though it may be that he is poor ; and if he is poor — and 
 as if it might be my own case, or that of this honest gen- 
 tleman, Mr. Tirl, is that a reason or a law, that he is not 
 to keep a prute of a tog, to help him to take his sports 
 and his pleasures ? and if he has not a stable or a kennel 
 to put the crature into, must he not keep it in his pit of 
 ped-room, or upon his parlour hearth, seeing that Luckie 
 Dods would make the kitchen too hot for the paist — and 
 so, if Mr. Tirl finds a setter more fitter for his purpose 
 than a pointer, by Cot, I know no law against it, else 
 may I never die the black death." 
 
 If this oration appear rather long for the occasion, the 
 reader must recollect that Captain MacTurk had in all 
 probability the trouble of translating it from the peri- 
 phrastic language of Ossian, in which it was originally 
 conceived in his own mind. 
 
 The Man of Law replied to the Man of Peace, " Ye 
 are mistaken for ance in your life, Captain, for there is a 
 law against setters ; and I will undertake to prove them
 
 128 WAYKULEY NOVELS. 
 
 to be the ' lying dogs ' which are mentioned in the auld 
 Scots statute, and which all and sundry are discharged to 
 keep, under a penalty of" 
 
 Here the Captain broke in, with a very solemn mien 
 and dignified manner — " By Cot ! Master Meiklewham, 
 and I shall be asking what you mean by talking to me of 
 peing mistaken, and apout lying togs, sir — pecause I 
 would have you to know, and to pelieve, and to very well 
 consider, that I never was mistaken in my life, sir, unless 
 it was when I took you for a gentleman." 
 
 " No offence, Captain," said Mr. Meiklewham ; " dinna 
 break the wand of peace, man, you that should be the 
 first to keep it. He is as cankered," continued the Man 
 of Law, apart to his patron, " as an auld Hieland terrier, 
 that snaps at whatever comes near it — but I tell you ae 
 thing, St. Ronan's, and that is on saul and conscience, 
 that I believe this is the very lad Tirl, that I raised a 
 summons against before the justices — him and another 
 hempie — in your father's time, for shooting on the 
 Springwell-head muirs." 
 
 " The devil you did, Mick ! " replied the Lord of the 
 Manor, also aside ; — " Well, I am obliged to you for giv- 
 ing me some reason for the ill thoughts I had of him — I 
 knew he was some trumpery scamp — I'll blow him, 
 by" 
 
 " Whisht — stop — hush — haud your tongue, St. Ronan's 
 — keep a calm sough — ye see, I intented the process, by 
 your worthy father's desire, before the Quarter Sessions 
 — but I ken na — The auld sheriff-clerk stood the lad's 
 friend — and some of the justices thought it was but a 
 mistake of the marches, and sae we couldna get a judg- 
 ment — and your father was very ill of the gout, and I 
 was feared to vex him, and so I was fain to let the
 
 ST. roxan's "well. 129 
 
 process sleep, for fear they had been assoilzied. — Sae ye 
 had better gang cautiously to wark, St. Ronan ; s, for 
 though they were summoned, they were not convict." 
 
 " Could you not take up the action again ? " said Mr. 
 Mowbray. 
 
 " Whew ! it's been prescribed sax or seeven year syne. 
 It is a great shame, St. Ronan's, that the game laws, 
 whilk are the very best protection that is left to country 
 gentlemen against the encroachment of their inferiors, rin 
 sae short a course of prescription — a poacher may just 
 jink ye back and forward like a flea in a blanket, (wi' 
 pardon) — hap ye out of ae county and into anither 
 at their pleasure, like pyots — and unless ye get your 
 thum-nail on them in the very nick o' time, ye may 
 dine on a dish of prescription, and sup upon an absolvi- 
 tor." 
 
 " It is a shame indeed," said Mowbray, turning from 
 his confidant and agent, and addressing himself to the 
 company in general, yet not without a peculiar look 
 directed to Tyrrel. 
 
 " What is a shame, sir ? " said Tyrrel, conceiving that 
 the observation was particularly addressed to him. 
 
 " That we should have so many poachers upon our 
 muirs, sir," answered St. Ronan's. "I sometimes regret 
 having countenanced the Well here, when I think how 
 many guns it has brought on my property every season." 
 
 " Hout fie ! hout awa, St. Ronan's !" said his Man of 
 Law ; " no countenance the Waal ? What would the 
 country-side be without it, I would be glad to ken ? It's 
 the greatest improvement that has been made on this 
 country since the year forty-five. Na, na, it's no the 
 Waal that's to blame for the poaching and delinquencies 
 on the game. — We maun to the Aultoun for the howf of 
 
 A'OL. XXXIII. 9
 
 130 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 
 
 that kind of cattle. Our rules at the Waal are clear and 
 express against trespassers on the game." 
 
 " I can't think," said the Squire, " what made my 
 father sell the property of the old change-house yonder, 
 to the hag that keeps it open out of spite, I think, and to 
 harbour poachers and vagabonds ! — I cannot conceive 
 what made him do so foolish a thing ! " 
 
 " Probably because your father wanted money, sir," 
 said Tyrrel, dryly ; " and my worthy landlady, Mrs. 
 Dods, had got some. — You know, I presume, sir, that I 
 lodge there ? " 
 
 " Oh, sir," replied Mowbray, in a tone betwixt scorn 
 and civility, " you cannot suppose the present company is 
 alluded to ; I only presumed to mention as a fact, that we 
 have been annoyed with unqualified people shooting on 
 our grounds, without either liberty or license. — And I 
 hope to have her sign taken down for it — that is all. — 
 There was the same plague in my father's days, I think, 
 Mick ? " 
 
 But Mr. Meiklewham, who did not like Tyrrel's looks 
 so well as to induce him to become approver on the 
 occasion, replied with an inarticulate grunt, addressed to 
 the company, and a private admonition to his patron's 
 own ear, " to let sleeping dogs lie." 
 
 " I can scarce forbear the fellow," said St. Ronan's ; 
 " and yet I cannot well tell where my dislike to him lies 
 — but it would be d — d folly to turn out with him for 
 nothing ; and so, honest Mick, I will be as quiet as I 
 can." 
 
 " And that you may be so," said Meiklewham, " I 
 think you had best take no more wine." 
 
 " I think so too," said the Squire ; " for each glass I 
 drink in his company gives me the heartburn — yet the
 
 ST. ronan's well. 131 
 
 man is not different from other raffs either — but there is 
 a something about him intolerable to me." 
 
 So saying, he pushed back his chair from the table, 
 and — regis ad exemplar — after the pattern of the Laird, 
 all the company arose. 
 
 Sir Bingo got up with reluctance, which he testified by 
 two or three deep growls, as he followed the rest of the 
 company into the outer apartment, which served as an 
 entrance-hall, and divided the dining-parlour from the 
 tea-room, as it was called. Here, while the party were 
 assuming their hats, for the purpose of joining the ladies' 
 society, (which old-fashioned folk used only to take up for 
 that of going into the open air,) Tyrrel asked a smart 
 footman, who stood near, to hand him the hat which lay 
 on the table beyond. 
 
 " Call your own servant, sir," answered the fellow, 
 with the true insolence of a pampered menial. 
 
 " Your master," answered Tyrrel, " ought to have 
 taught you good manners, my friend, before bringing you 
 here." 
 
 " Sir Bingo Binks is my master," said the fellow, in 
 the same insolent tone as before. 
 
 " Xow for it, Bingie," said Mowbray, who was aware 
 that the Baronet's pot-courage had arrived at fighting 
 pitch. 
 
 " Yes ! " said Sir Bingo aloud, and more articulately 
 than usual. — " The fellow is my servant — what has any 
 one to say to it ? " 
 
 " I at least have my mouth stopped," answered Tyrrel, 
 with perfect composure. " I should have been surprised 
 to have found Sir Bingo's servant better bred than him- 
 self." 
 
 " What d'ye mean by that, sir ? " said Sir Bingo, com-
 
 132 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 
 
 ing up in an offensive attitude, for he was no mean pupil 
 of the Fives-Court — " What d'ye mean by that ? D — n 
 you, sir ! I'll serve you out before you can say dump- 
 ling." 
 
 " And I, Sir Bingo, unless you presently lay aside that 
 look and manner, will knock you down before you can 
 cry help." 
 
 The visitor held in his hand a slip of oak, with which 
 he gave a flourish, that, however slight, intimated some 
 acquaintance with the noble art of single-stick. From 
 this demonstration Sir Bingo thought it prudent some- 
 what to recoil, though backed by a party of friends, who, 
 in their zeal for his honour, would rather have seen his 
 bones broken in conflict bold, than his honour injured by 
 a discreditable retreat ; and Tyrrel seemed to have some 
 inclination to indulge them. But, at the very instant 
 when his hand was raised with a motion of no doubtful 
 import, a whispering voice, close to his ear, pronounced 
 the emphatic words — " Are you a man ? " 
 
 Not the thrilling tone with which our inimitable Sid- 
 dons used to electrify the scene, when she uttered the 
 same whisper, ever had a more powerful effect upon an 
 auditor, than had these unexpected sounds on him, to 
 whom they were now addressed. Tyrrel forgot every 
 thing — his quarrel — the circumstances in which he was 
 placed — the company. The crowd was to him at once 
 annihilated, and life seemed to have no other object than 
 to follow the person who had spoken. But suddenly as 
 he turned, the disappearance of the monitor was at least 
 equally so, for, amid the group of commonplace counte- 
 nances by which he was surrounded, there was none 
 which assorted to the tone and words which possessed 
 such a power over him. " Make way," he said, to those
 
 st. rowan's well. 133 
 
 who surrounded him ; and it was in the tone of one who 
 was prepared, if necessaiy, to make way for himself. 
 
 Mr. Mowbray of St. Ronan's stepped forward. " Come, 
 sir," said he, " this will not do — you have come here, a 
 stranger among us, to assume airs and dignities, which, 
 by G — d, would become a duke, or a prince ! We must 
 know who or what you are, before we permit you to carry 
 your high tone any farther." 
 
 This address seemed at once to arrest Tyrrel's anger, 
 and his impatience to leave the company. He turned to 
 Mowbray, collected his thoughts for an instant, and then 
 answered him thus : — " Mr. Mowbray, I seek no quarrel 
 with any one here — with you, in particular, I am most 
 unwilling to have any disagreement I came here by in- 
 vitation, not certainly expecting much pleasure, but, at 
 the same time, supposing myself secure from incivility. 
 In the last point, I find myself mistaken, and therefore 
 wish the company good-night. I must also make my 
 adieu to the ladies." So saying, he walked several steps, 
 yet, as it seemed, rather irresolutely, towards the door of 
 the card-room — and then, to the increased surprise of the 
 company, stopped suddenly, and muttering something 
 about the " unfitness of the time," turned on his heel, 
 and bowing haughtily, as there was way made for him, 
 walked in the opposite direction towards the door wdiich 
 led to the outer hall. 
 
 " D — n me, Sir Bingo, will you let him oft'? " said 
 Mowbray, who seemed to delight in pushing his friend 
 into new scrapes — " To him, man — to him — he shows the 
 white feather." 
 
 Sir Bingo, thus encouraged, planted himself with a 
 look of defiance exactly between Tyrrel and the door ; 
 upon which the retreating guest, bestowing on him most
 
 134 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 
 
 emphatically the epithet Fool, seized him by the collar, 
 and flung him out of his way with some violence. 
 
 " I am to-be found at the Old Town of St. Ronan's by 
 whomsoever has any concern with me." — Without wait- 
 ing the issue of this aggression farther than to utter these 
 words, Tyrrel left the hotel. He stopped in the court- 
 yard, however, with the air of one uncertain whither he 
 intended to go, and who was desirous to ask some ques- 
 tion, which seemed to die upon his tongue. At length 
 his eye fell upon a groom, who stood not far from the 
 door of the inn, holding in his hand a handsome pony, 
 with a side-saddle. 
 
 "Whose" said Tyrrel — but the rest of the ques- 
 tion he seemed unable to utter. 
 
 The man, however, replied, as if he had heard the 
 whole interrogation. — " Miss Mowbray's, sir, of St. Ro- 
 nan's — she leaves directly — and so I am walking the pony 
 — a clever thing, sir, for a lady." 
 
 " She returns to Shaws-Castle by the Buck-stane 
 road ? " 
 
 " I suppose so, sir," said the groom. " It is the nigh- 
 est, and Miss Clara cares little for rough roads. Zounds ! 
 she can spank it over wet and dry." 
 
 Tyrrel turned away from the man, and hastily left the 
 hotel — not, however, by the road which led to the Aul- 
 toun, but by a footpath among the natural copsewood, 
 which, following the course of the brook, intersected the 
 usual horse-road to Shaws-Castle, the seat of Mr. Mow- 
 bray, at a romantic spot called the Buck-stane. 
 
 In a small peninsula, formed by a winding of the brook, 
 was situated, on a rising hillock, a large rough-hewn pillar 
 of stone, said by tradition to commemorate the fall of a 
 stag of unusual speed, size, and strength, whose flight,
 
 ST. ronan's well. 135 
 
 after having lasted through a whole summer's day, had 
 there terminated in death, to the honour and glory of 
 some ancient Baron of St. Ronan's, and of his stanch 
 hounds. During the periodical cuttings of the copse, 
 which the necessities of the family of St. Ronan's brought 
 round more frequently than Ponty would have recom- 
 mended, some oaks had been spared in the neighbourhood 
 of this massive obelisk, old enough perhaps to have heard 
 the whoop and halloo which followed the fall of the stag, 
 and to have witnessed the raising of the rude monument, 
 by which that great event was commemorated. These 
 trees, with their broad spreading boughs, made a twilight 
 even of noon-day ; and now, that the sun was approach- 
 ing its setting point, their shade already anticipated night. 
 This was especially the case where three or four of them 
 stretched their arms over a deep gully, through which 
 winded the horse-path to Shaws-Castle, at a point about 
 a pistol-shot distant from the Buck-stane. As the prin- 
 cipal access to Mr. Mowbray's mansion was by a carriage- 
 way, which passed in a different direction, the present 
 path was left almost in a state of nature, full of large 
 stones, and broken by gullies, delightful, from the varied 
 character of its banks, to the picturesque traveller, and 
 most inconvenient, nay, dangerous, to him who had a 
 stumbling horse. 
 
 The footpath to the Buck-stane, which here joined the 
 bridle-road, had been constructed, at the expense of a 
 subscription, under the direction of Mr. Winterblossom, 
 who had taste enough to see the beauties of this secluded 
 spot, which was exactly such as in earlier times might 
 have harboured the ambush of some marauding chief. 
 This recollection had not escaped Tyrrel, to whom the 
 whole scenery was familiar, who now hastened to the
 
 136 WAVERLEV NOVELS. 
 
 spot, as one which peculiarly suited his present purpose. 
 He sat clown by one of the larger projecting trees, and, 
 screened by its enormous branches from observation, was 
 enabled to watch the road from the Hotel for a great part 
 of its extent, while he was himself invisible to any who 
 might travel upon it. 
 
 Meanwhile his sudden departure excited a considerable 
 sensation among the party whom he had just left, and 
 who were induced to form conclusions not very favour- 
 able to his character. Sir Bingo, in particular, blustered 
 loudly and more loudly, in proportion to the increasing 
 distance betwixt himself and his antagonist, declarino- his 
 resolution to be revenged on the scoundrel for his inso- 
 lence — to drive him from the neighbourhood, — and I 
 know not what other menaces of formidable import. 
 The devil, in the old stories of diablerie, was always sure 
 to start up at the elbow of any one who nursed diabolical 
 purposes, and only wanted a little backing from the foul 
 fiend to carry his imaginations into action. The noble 
 Captain MacTurk had so far this property of his infernal 
 majesty, that the least hint of an approaching quarrel 
 drew him always to the vicinity of the party concerned. 
 He was now at Sir Bingo's side, and was taking his own 
 view of the matter, in his character of peace-maker. 
 
 " By Cot ! and it's very exceedingly true, my good 
 friend, Sir Binco — and as you say, it concerns your hon- 
 our, and the honour of the place, and credit and character 
 of the whole company, by Cot ! that this matter be prop- 
 erly looked after; for, as I think, he laid hands on your 
 body, my excellent goot friend." 
 
 " Hands, Captain MacTurk ! " exclaimed Sir Bingo in 
 some confusion ; " no, blast him — not so bad as that nei- 
 ther — if he had, I should have handed him over the win-
 
 ST. roxan's well. 137 
 
 dow — but by , the fellow bad the impudence to offer 
 
 to collar me — I had just stepped back to square at him, 
 when, curse me, the blackguard ran away." 
 
 " Right, vara right, Sir Bingo," said the Man of Law, 
 " a vara perfect blackguard, a poaching sorning sort of 
 fallow, that I will have scoured out of the country before 
 he be three days aulder. Fash you your beard nae far- 
 ther about the matter, Sir Bingo." 
 
 " By Cot ! but I can tell you, Mr. Meiklewharn," said 
 the Man of Peace, with great solemnity of visage, " that 
 you are scalding your lips in other folk's kale, and that it 
 is necessary for the credit, and honour, and respect of this 
 company, at the Well of St. Ronan's, that Sir Bingo goes 
 by more competent advice than yours upon the present 
 occasion, Mr. Meiklewharn ; for though your counsel may 
 do very well in a small debt-court, here, do you see, Mr. 
 Meiklewharn, is a question of honour, which is not a thing 
 in your line, as I take it." 
 
 " No, before George ! is it not," answered Meikle- 
 wharn ; " e'en take it all to yoursell, Captain, and meikle 
 ye are likely to make on't." 
 
 " Then," said the Captain, " Sir Binco, I will beg the 
 favour of your company to the smoking room, where we 
 may have a cigar and a glass of gin-twist ; and we will 
 consider how the honour of the company must be sup- 
 ported and upholden upon the present conjuncture." 
 
 The Baronet complied with this invitation, as much, 
 j nil iaps, in consequence of the medium through which 
 the Captain intended to convey his warlike counsels, as 
 for the pleasure with which he anticipated the result of 
 these counsels themselves. He followed the military step 
 of his leader, whose stride was more stiff, and his form 
 more perpendicular, when exalted by the consciousness
 
 138 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 
 
 of an approaching quarrel, to the smoking-room, where, 
 sighing as he lighted his cigar, Sir Bingo prepared to 
 listen to the words of wisdom and valour as they should 
 flow in mingled stream from the lips of Captain Mac- 
 Turk. 
 
 Meanwhile the rest of the company joined the ladies. 
 " Here has been Clara," said the Lady Penelope to Mr. 
 Mowbray ; " here has been Miss Mowbray among us, 
 like the ray of a sun which does but dazzle and die." 
 
 " Ah, poor Clara," said Mowbray ; " I thought I saw 
 her thread her way through the crowd a little while since, 
 but 1 was not sure." 
 
 " Well," said Lady Penelope, " she has asked us all up 
 to Shaws-Castle on Thursday, to a dejeuner a la four- 
 chette — I trust you confirm your sister's invitation, Mir. 
 Mowbray ? " 
 
 " Certainly, Lady Penelope," replied Mowbray ; " and 
 I am truly glad Clara has had the grace to think of it — 
 How we shall acquit ourselves is a different question, 
 for neither she nor I are much accustomed to play host 
 or hostess." 
 
 '• Oh ! it will be delightful, I am sure," said Lady Pe- 
 nelope ; " Clara has a grace in everything she does ; and 
 you, Mr. Mowbray, can be a perfectly well-bred gentle- 
 man — when you please." 
 
 " That qualification is severe — Well — good manners be 
 my speed — I will certainly please to do my best, when I 
 see your ladyship at Shaws-Castle, which has received no 
 company this many a day. — Clara and I have lived a 
 wild life of it, each in their own way." 
 
 " Indeed, Mr. Mowbray," said Lady Binks, " if I might 
 presume to speak — I think you do suffer your sister to 
 ride about a little too much without an attendant. I
 
 ST. ronan's well. 139 
 
 know Miss Mowbray rides as woman never rode before, 
 but still an accident may happen." 
 
 " An accident ? " replied Mowbray — " Ah, Lady Binks ! 
 accidents happen as frequently when ladies have attend- 
 ants as when they are without them." 
 
 Lady Binks, who, in her maiden state, had cantered a 
 good deal about these woods under Sir Bingo's escort, 
 coloured, looked spiteful, and was silent. 
 
 " Besides," said John Mowbray, more lightly, " where 
 is the risk, after all ? There are no wolves in our woods 
 to eat up our pretty Red-Riding Hoods ; and no lions 
 either — except those of Lady Penelope's train." 
 
 " Who draw the car of Cybele," said Mr. Chatterly. 
 
 Lady Penelope luckily did not understand the allusion, 
 which was indeed better intended than imagined. 
 
 " Apropos ! " she said ; " what have you done with the 
 great lion of the day ? I see Mr. Tyrrel nowhere — Is he 
 finishing an additional bottle with Sir Bingo." 
 
 " Mr. Tyrrel, madam," said Mowbray, " has acted suc- 
 cessively the lion rampant, and the lion passant ; he has 
 been quarrelsome, and he has run away — fled from the 
 ire of your doughty knight, Lady Binks." 
 
 " I am sure I hope not," said Lady Binks ; " my Chev- 
 alier's unsuccessful campaigns have been unable to over- 
 come his taste for quarrels — a victory would make a 
 fighting man of him for life." 
 
 " That inconvenience might bring its own consolations," 
 said AVinterblossom apart to Mowbray ; " quarrellers do 
 not usually live long." 
 
 " No, no," I'eplied Mowbray, "the lady's despair which 
 broke out just now, even in her own despite, is quite nat- 
 ural — absolutely legitimate. Sir Bingo will give her no 
 chance that way."
 
 140 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 
 
 Mowbray then made his bow to Lady Penelope, and 
 in answer to her request that he would join the ball or 
 the card-table, observed, that he had no time to lose ; 
 that the heads of the old domestics at Shaws-Castle 
 would be by this time absolutely turned, by the appre- 
 hensions of what Thursday was to bring forth ; and that 
 as Clara would certainly give no directions for the proper 
 arrangements, it was necessary that he should take that 
 trouble himself. 
 
 " If you ride smartly," said Lady Penelope, " you may 
 save even a temporary alarm, by overtaking Clara, dear 
 creature, ere she gets home — She sometimes suffers her 
 pony to go at will along the lane as slow as Betty Foy's." 
 
 " Ah, but then," said little Miss Digges, " Miss Mow- 
 bray sometimes gallops as if the lark was a snail to her 
 pony — and it quite frights one to see her." 
 
 The Doctor touched Mrs. Blower, who had approached 
 so as to be on the verge of the genteel circle, though she 
 did not venture within it, — they exchanged sagacious 
 looks, and a most pitiful shake of the head. Mowbray's 
 eye happened at that moment to glance on them ; and 
 doubtless, notwithstanding their hasting to compose their 
 countenances to a different expression, he comprehended 
 what was passing through their minds; and perhaps it 
 awoke a corresponding note in his own. He took his hat, 
 and with a cast of thought upon his countenance which it 
 seldom wore, left the apartment. A moment afterwards 
 his horse's feet were heard spurning the pavement, as he 
 started off at a sharp pace. 
 
 " There is something singular about these Mowbrays, 
 to-night," said Lady Penelope. — " Clara, poor dear angel, 
 is always particular ; but I should have thought Mow- 
 bray had too much worldly wisdom to -be fanciful. —
 
 ST. ROXANS "WELL. 
 
 Ill 
 
 What are you consulting your souvenir for with such at- 
 tention, my dear Lady Binks ? " 
 
 " Only for the age of the moon," said her ladyship, 
 putting the little tortoise-shell-bound calendar into her 
 reticule ; and having done so, she proceeded to assist 
 Lady Penelope in the arrangements for the evening
 
 142 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE MEETING. 
 
 We meet as shadows in the land of dreams, 
 Which speak not but in signs. 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
 Behind one of the old oaks which we have described 
 in the preceding chapter, shrouding himself from obser- 
 vation like a hunter watching for his game, or an Indian 
 for his enemy, but with different, very different purpose, 
 Tyrrel lay on his breast near the Buck-stane, his eye on 
 the horse-road which winded down the valley, and his 
 ear alertly awake to every sound which mingled with the 
 passing breeze, or with the ripple of the brook. 
 
 " To have met her in yonder congregated assembly of 
 brutes and fools" — such was a part of his internal reflec- 
 tions, — " had been little less than an act of madness — 
 madness almost equal in its degree to that cowardice 
 which has hitherto prevented my approaching her, when 
 our eventful meeting might have taken place unobserved. 
 — But now — now — my resolution is as fixed as the place 
 is itself favourable. I will not wait till some chance again 
 shall throw us together, with an hundred malignant eyes 
 to watch, and wonder, and stare, and try in vain to account 
 for the expression of feelings which I might find it im- 
 possible to suppress. — Hark — hark ! — I hear the tread of
 
 ST. roxan's well. 143 
 
 a horse. — No — it was the changeful sound of the water 
 rushing over the pebbles. Surely she cannot have taken 
 the other road to Shaws-Castle ! — No — the sounds become 
 distinct — her figure is visible on the path, -coming swiftly 
 forward — Have I the courage to show myself? — I have — 
 the hour is come, and w T hat must be shall be." 
 
 Yet this resolution was scarcely formed ere it began 
 to fluctuate, when he reflected upon the fittest manner of 
 carrying it into execution. To show himself at a dis- 
 tance, might give the lady an opportunity of turning back 
 and avoiding the interview which he had determined 
 upon — to hide himself till the moment when her horse, 
 in rapid motion, should pass his lurking-place, might be 
 attended with danger to the rider — and while he hesitated 
 which course to pursue, there was some chance of his 
 missing the opportunity of presenting himself to Miss 
 Mowbray at all. He was himself sensible of this, formed 
 a hasty and desperate resolution not to suffer the present 
 moment to escape, and, just as the ascent induced the 
 pony to slacken its pace, Tyrrel stood in the middle 
 of the defile, about six yards distant from the young 
 lady. 
 
 She pulled up the rein-, and stopped as if arrested by 
 a thunderbolt.—" Clara ! "— " Tyrrel ! " These were the 
 only words which were exchanged between them, until 
 Tyrrel, moving his feet as slowly as if they had 
 been of lead, began gradually to diminish the distance 
 which lay betwixt them. It was then that, observing his 
 closer approach, Miss Mowbray called out with great 
 eagerness, — " No nearer — no nearer ! — So long have I 
 endured your presence, but if you approach me more 
 closely, I shall be mad indeed ! " 
 
 " What do you fear ? " said Tyrrel, in a hollow voice
 
 144 AVAVKKLEY NOVELS. 
 
 ■ — " What can you fear ? " and lie continued to draw 
 nearer, until they were within a pace of each other. 
 
 Clara, meanwhile, dropping her bridle, clasped her 
 hands together, and held them up towards Heaven, mut- 
 tering, in a voice scarcely audible, " Great God ! — if this 
 apparition be formed by my heated fancy, let it pass 
 away ; if it be real, enable me to bear its presence ! — 
 Tell me, I conjure you, are you Francis Tyrrel in blood 
 and body, or is this but one of those wandering visions 
 that have crossed my path and glared on me, but without 
 daring to abide my steadfast glance ? " 
 
 " I am Francis Tyrrel," answered he, " in blood and 
 body, as much as she to whom I speak is Clara Mow- 
 bray." 
 
 " Then God have mercy on us both ! " said Clara, in a 
 tone of deep feeling. 
 
 " Amen ! " said Tyrrel. — " But what avails this excess 
 of agitation ? — You saw me but now, Miss Mowbray — 
 your voice still rings in my ears — You saw me but now 
 • — you spoke to me — and that when I was among stran- 
 gers — Why not preserve your composure when we are 
 where no human eye can see — no human ear can hear ? " 
 
 " Is it so," said Clara ; " and was it indeed yourself 
 whom I saw even now ? — I thought so, and something I 
 said at the time — but my brain has been but ill settled 
 since we last met — But I am well now — quite well — I 
 have invited all the people yonder to come to Shaws- 
 Castle — my brother desired me to do it — I hope I shall 
 have the pleasure of seeing Mr. Tyrrel there — though I 
 think there is some old grudge between my brother and 
 you." 
 
 " Alas ! Clara, you mistake. Your brother I have 
 scarcely seen," replied Tyrrel, much distressed, and ap-
 
 st. eokan's well. 145 
 
 parentlj uncertain in what tone to address her, which 
 might soothe, and not irritate her mental malady, of 
 which he could now entertain no douht. 
 
 " True — true," she said, after a moment's reflection, 
 " my brother was then at college. It was my father, my 
 poor father, whom you had some quarrel with. — But you 
 will come to Shaws-Castle on Thursday, at two o'clock ? 
 — John will be glad to see you — he can be kind when he 
 pleases — and then we will talk of old times — I must set 
 on, to have things ready — Good evening." 
 
 She would have passed him, but he took gently hold 
 of the rein of her bridle. — " I will walk with you, Clara,* 
 he said ; " the road is rough and dangerous — you ought 
 not to ride fast. — I will walk along with you, and we will 
 talk of former times now, more conveniently than in com- 
 pany." 
 
 " True — true — very true, Mr. Tyrrel — it shall be as 
 you say. My brother obliges me sometimes to go into 
 company at that hateful place down yonder ; and I do so 
 because he likes it, and because the folks let me have my 
 own way. and come and go as I list. Do you know, 
 Tyrrel, that very often when I am there, and John has 
 his eye on me, I can cany it on as gaily as if you and I 
 had never met ? " 
 
 " I would to God we never had," said Tyrrel, in a 
 trembling voice, " since this is to be the end of all ! " 
 
 " And wherefore should not sorrow be the end of sin 
 and of folly ? And when did happiness come of disobe- 
 dience ? — And when did sound sleep visit a bloody pil- 
 low ? That is what I say to myself, Tyrrel, and that is 
 what you must learn to say too, and then you will bear 
 your burden as cheerfully as I endure mine. If we have 
 no more than our deserts, why should we complain ? — 
 
 VOL. XXXIII. 10
 
 146 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 
 
 You are shedding tears, I think — Is not that childish ? — ■ 
 They say it is a relief — if so, weep on, and I will look 
 another way." 
 
 Tyrrel walked on by the pony's side, in vain endeav- 
 ouring to compose himself so as to reply. 
 
 " Poor Tyrrel," said Clara, after she had remained 
 silent for some time — " Poor Frank Tyrrel ! — Perhaps 
 you will say in your turn, Poor Clara — but I am not so 
 poor in spirit as you — the blast may bend, but it shall 
 never break me." 
 
 There was another long pause ; for Tyrrel was unable 
 fo determine with himself in what strain he could address 
 the unfortunate young lady, without awakening recollec- 
 tions equally painful to her feelings, and dangerous, when 
 her precarious state of health was considered. At length 
 she herself proceeded : — 
 
 " What needs all this, Tyrrel ? — and indeed, why came 
 you here ? — Why did I find you but now brawling and 
 quarrelling among the loudest of the brawlers and quar- 
 relers of yonder idle and dissipated debauchees ? — You 
 were used to have more temper — more sense. Another 
 person — ay, another that you and I once knew — he might 
 have committed such a folly, and he would have acted 
 perhaps in character — But you, who pretend to wisdom 
 — for shame, for shame ! — And indeed, when we talk of 
 that, what wisdom was there in coming hither at all ? — or 
 what good purpose can your remaining here serve ? — 
 Surely you need not come, either to renew your own un- 
 happiness or to augment mine ? " 
 
 " To augment yours — God forbid ! " answered Tyrrel. 
 " No — I came hither only because, after so many years 
 of wandering, I longed to revisit the spot where all my 
 hopes lay buried."
 
 ST. ronan's well. 147 
 
 " Ay — buried is the word," she replied, " crushed down 
 and buried when they budded fairest. I often think of 
 it, Tyrrel ; and there are times when, Heaven help me ! 
 I can think of little else. — Look at me — you remember 
 what I was — see what grief and solitude have made 
 
 me 
 
 
 She flung back the veil which surrounded her riding- 
 hat, and which had hitherto hid her face. It was the 
 same countenance which he had formerly known in all 
 the bloom of early beauty ; but though the beauty re- 
 mained, the bloom was fled for ever. Not the agitation 
 of exercise — not that which arose from the pain and con- 
 fusion of this unexpected interview, had called to poor 
 Clara's cheek even the momentary semblance of colour. 
 Her complexion was marble-white, like that of the finest 
 piece of statuary. 
 
 " Is it possible ? " said Tyrrel ; " can grief have made 
 such ravages ? " 
 
 " Grief," replied Clara, " is the sickness of the mind, 
 and its sister is the sickness of the body — they are twin- 
 sisters, Tyrrel, and are seldom long separate. Some- 
 times the body's disease comes first, and dims our eyes 
 and palsies our hands, before the fire of our mind and of 
 our intellect is quenched. But mark me — soon after 
 comes her cruel sister with her urn, and sprinkles cold 
 dew on our hopes and on our loves, our memory, our 
 recollections, and our feelings, and shows us that they 
 cannot survive the decay of our bodily powers." 
 
 " Alas ! " said Tyrrel, " is it come to this ? " 
 
 " To this," she replied, speaking from the rapid and 
 irregular train of her own ideas, rather than comprehend- 
 ing the purport of his sorrowful exclamation, — " to this 
 it must ever come, while immortal souls are wedded to
 
 148 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 
 
 the perishable substance of which our bodies are com- 
 posed. There is another state, Tyrrel, in which it will 
 be otherwise — God grant our time of enjoying it were 
 come ! " 
 
 She fell into a melancholy pause, which Tyrrel was 
 afraid to disturb. The quickness with which she spoke 
 marked but too plainly the irregular succession of 
 thought, and he was obliged to restrain the agony of his 
 own feelings, rendered more acute by a thousand painful 
 recollections, lest, by giving way to his expressions of 
 grief, he should throw her into a still more disturbed 
 state of mind. 
 
 " I did not think," she proceeded, " that after so horri- 
 ble a separation, and so many years, I could have met 
 you thus calmly and reasonably. But although what we 
 were formerly to each other can never be forgotten, it is 
 now all over and we are only friends — Is it not so ? " 
 
 Tyrrel was unable to reply. 
 
 " But I must not remain here," she said, " till the even- 
 ing grows darker on me. — We shall meet again, Tyrrel 
 — meet as friends — nothing more — You will come up to 
 Shaws-Castle and see me ? — no need of secrecy now — 
 my poor father is in his grave, and his prejudices sleep 
 with him — my brother John is kind, though he is stern 
 and severe sometimes — Indeed, Tyrrel, I believe he 
 loves me, though he has taught me to tremble at his 
 frown when I am in spirits and talk too much — But he 
 loves me, at least I think so, for I am sure I love him ; 
 and I try to go down amongst them yonder, and to 
 endure their folly, and, all things considered, I do carry 
 on the farce of life wonderfully well — We are but actors, 
 you know, and the world but a stage." 
 
 " And ours has been a sad and tragic scene," said
 
 ST. rosak's well. 149 
 
 Tyrrel, in the bitterness of his heart, unable any longer 
 to refrain from speech. 
 
 " It has indeed — but, Tyrrel, when was it otherwise 
 with engagements formed in youth and in folly ? You 
 and I would, you know, become men and women while 
 we were yet scarcely more than children — We have run, 
 while yet in our nonage, through the passions and adven- 
 tures of youth, and therefore we are now old before our 
 day, and the winter of our life has come on ere its sum- 
 mer was well begun. — O Tyrrel ! often and often have I 
 thought of this ! — Thought of it often ? Alas ! when 
 will the time come that I shall be able to think of any 
 thing else ! " 
 
 The poor young woman sobbed bitterly, and her tears 
 began to flow with a freedom which they had not proba- 
 bly enjoyed for a length of time. Tyrrel walked on by 
 the side of her horse, which now prosecuted its road 
 homewards, unable to devise a proper mode of address- 
 ing the unfortunate young lady, and fearing alike to 
 awaken her passions and his own. Whatever he might 
 have proposed to say, was disconcerted by the plain inch- 
 cations that her mind was clouded, more or less slightly, 
 with a shade of insanity, which deranged, though it had 
 not destroyed, her powers of judgment. 
 
 At length he asked her, with as much calmness as he 
 could assume — if she was contented — if aught could be 
 done to render her situation more easy — if there was 
 aught of which she could complain which he might be 
 able to remedy ? She answered gently, that she was 
 calm and resigned, when her brother would permit her 
 to stay at home ; but that when she was brought into 
 society, she experienced Buch a change as that which the 
 water of the brook that slumbers in a crystalline pool of
 
 150 WAVERLET NOVELS. 
 
 the rock may be supposed to feel, when, gliding from its 
 quiet bed, it becomes involved in the hurry of the 
 cataract. 
 
 •' But my brother Mowbray," she said, " thinks he is 
 right, — and perhaps he is so. There are things on 
 which we may ponder too long ; — and were he mistaken, 
 why should I not constrain myself in order to please him ? 
 — there are so few left to whom I can now give either 
 pleasure or pain. — I am a gay girl, too, in conversation, 
 Tyrrel — still as gay for a moment, as when you used to 
 chide me for my folly. So, now I have told you all, — I 
 have one question to ask on my part — one question — if 
 I had but breath to ask it — Is he still alive ? " 
 
 " He lives," answered Tyrrel, but in a tone so low, that 
 nought but the eager attention which Miss Mowbray 
 paid could possibly have caught such feeble sounds. 
 
 " Lives ! " she exclaimed, — " lives ! — he lives, and the 
 blood on your hand is not then indelibly imprinted — O 
 Tyrrel, did you but know the joy which this assurance 
 gives to me ! " 
 
 "Joy!" replied Tyrrel — "joy, that the wretch lives 
 who has poisoned our happiness for ever! — lives, per- 
 haps, to claim you for his own ? " 
 
 " Never, never, shall he — dare he do so," replied 
 Clara, wildly, " while water can drown, while cords can 
 strangle, steel pierce — while there is a precipice on the 
 hill, a pool in the river — never — never ! " 
 
 " Be not thus agitated, my dearest Clara," said Tyrrel ; 
 " I spoke I know not what — he lives indeed — but far 
 distant, and, I trust, never again to revisit Scotland." 
 
 He would have said more, but that, agitated with fear 
 or passion, she struck her horse impatiently with her 
 riding whip. The spirited animal, thus stimulated and
 
 ST. roxan's well. 151 
 
 at the same time restrained, became intractable, and 
 reared so much, that Tyrrel, fearful of the consequences, 
 and trusting to Clara's skill as a horsewoman, thought 
 he best consulted her safety in letting go the rein. The 
 animal instantly sprung forward on the broken and hilly 
 path at a very rapid pace, and was soon lost to Tyrrel's 
 anxious eyes. 
 
 As he stood pondering whether he ought not to follow 
 Miss Mowbray towards S haws-Castle, in order to be 
 satisfied that no accident had befallen her on the road, 
 he heard the tread of a horse's feet, advancing hastily in 
 the same direction, leading from the Hotel. Unwilling 
 to be observed at this moment, he stepped aside under 
 the shelter of the underwood, and presently afterwards 
 saw Mr. Mowbray of St. Ronan's, followed by a groom, 
 ride hastily past his lurking-place, and pursue the same 
 road which had been just taken by his sister. The pres- 
 ence of her brother seemed to assure Miss Mowbray's 
 safety, and so removed Tyrrel's chief reason for follow- 
 ing her. Involved in deep and melancholy reflection 
 upon what had passed, nearly satisfied that his longer 
 residence in Clara's vicinity could only add to her unhap- 
 piness and his own, yet unable to tear himself from that 
 neighbourhood, or to relinquish feelings which had be- 
 come entwined with his heart-strings, he returned to his 
 lodgings in the Aultoun, in a state of mind very little to 
 be envied. 
 
 Tyrrel, on entering his apartment, found that it was 
 not lighted, nor were the Abigails of Mrs. Dods quite so 
 alert as a waiter at Long's might have been to supply 
 him with candles. Unapt at any time to exact much 
 personal attendance, and desirous to shun at that moment 
 the necessity of speaking to any person whatever, even
 
 152 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 
 
 on the most trifling subject, he walked down into the 
 kitchen to supply himself with what he wanted. He 
 did not at first observe that Mrs. Dods herself was pres- 
 ent in this the very centre of her empire, far less that a 
 lofty air of indignation was seated on the worthy mat- 
 ron's brow. At first it only vented itself in broken 
 soliloquy and interjections ; as, for example, " Vera 
 bonny wark this ! — vera creditable wark, indeed ! — a 
 decent house to be disturbed at these hours — Keep a 
 jiublic — as weel a bedlam ! " 
 
 Finding these murmurs attracted no attention, the 
 dame placed herself betwixt her guest and the door, to 
 which he was now retiring with his lighted candle, and 
 demanded of him what was the meaning of such beha- 
 viour. 
 
 " Of what behaviour, madam ? " said her guest, re- 
 peating her question in a tone of sternness and impa- 
 tience so unusual with him, that perhaps she was sorry 
 at the moment that she had provoked him out of his 
 usual patient indifference ; nay, she might even feel 
 intimidated at the altercation she had provoked, for the 
 resentment of a quiet and patient person has always in 
 it something formidable to the professed and habitual 
 grumbler. But her pride was too great to think of a 
 retreat, after having sounded the signal for contest, and 
 so she continued, though in a tone somewhat lowered. 
 
 " Maister Tirl, I wad but just ask you, that are a man 
 of sense, whether I hae ony right to take your behaviour 
 weel ? Here have you been these ten days and mail", 
 eating the best, and drinking the best, and taking up the 
 best room in my house ; and now to think of your gaun 
 doun and taking up with yon idle hare-brained cattle at 
 the Waal — I maun e'en be plain wi' ye — I like nane of
 
 ST. ronan's well. 153 
 
 the fair-fashioned folk that can say My Jo, and think it 
 no ; and therefore " 
 
 " Mrs. Dods," said Tyrrel, interrupting her, " I have 
 no time at present for trifles. I am obliged to you for 
 your attention while I have been in your house ; but the 
 disposal of my time, here or elsewhere, must be accord- 
 ing to my own ideas of pleasure or business — If you 
 are tired of me as a guest, send in your bill to-morrow." 
 
 " My bill ! " said Mrs. Dods ; " my bill to-morrow ! 
 And what for no wait till Saturday, when it may be 
 cleared atween us, plack and bawbee, as it was on Satur- 
 day last ? " 
 
 " Well — we will talk of it to-morrow, Mrs. Dods — 
 Good night." And he withdrew accordingly. 
 
 Luckie Dods stood ruminating for a moment. " The 
 deil's in him," she said, " for he winna bide being thrawn. 
 And I think the deil's in me too for thrawing him, sic a 
 canny lad, and sae gude a customer ; — and I am judging 
 he has something on his mind — want of siller it canna 
 be — I am sure if I thought that, I wadna care about my 
 small thing. — But want o' siller it canna be — he pays 
 ower the shillings as if they were sclate stanes, and that's 
 no the way that folks part with their siller when there's 
 but little on't — I ken weel eneugh how a customer looks 
 that's near the grund of the purse. — Weel ! I hope he 
 winna mind ony thing of this nonsense the morn, and I'll 
 try to guide my tongue something better. — Hegh, sirs ! 
 but, as the minister says, it's an unruly member — troth, 
 I am whiles ashamed o't mysell."
 
 154 WAVERLET NOVELS. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 RESOURCES. 
 
 Come, let me have thy counsel, for I need it; 
 Thou art of those, who better help their friends 
 With sage advice, than usurers with gold, 
 Or brawlers with their swords — I'll trust to thee, 
 For I ask only from thee words, not deeds. 
 
 The Devil hath met his Match. 
 
 The day of which we last gave the events chanced to 
 be Monday, and two days therefore intervened betwixt it 
 and that for which the entertainment was fixed, that was 
 to assemble in the halls of the Lord of the Manor the 
 flower of the company now at St. Ronan's Well. The 
 interval was but brief for the preparations necessary on 
 an occasion so unusual ; since the house, though delight- 
 fully situated, was in very indifferent repair, and for years 
 had never received any visitors, except when some blithe 
 bachelor or fox-hunter shared the hospitality of Mr, 
 Mowbray ; an event which became daily more and more 
 uncommon ; for, as lie himself almost lived at the Well, 
 he generally contrived to receive his companions where 
 it could be done without expense to himself. Besides, 
 the health of his sister afforded an irresistible apology to 
 any of those old-fashioned Scottish gentlemen, who might 
 be too apt (in the rudeness of more primitive days) to 
 consider a friend's house as their own. Mr. Mowbray
 
 ST. roxan's well. 155 
 
 was now, however, to the great delight of all his com- 
 panions, nailed down, by invitation given and accepted, 
 and they looked forward to the accomplishment of his 
 promise, with the eagerness which the prospect of some 
 entertaining novelty never fails to produce among idlers. 
 
 A good deal of tiouble devolved on Mr. Mowbray, 
 and his trusty agent, Mr. Meiklewham, before any thing 
 like decent preparation could be made for the ensuing 
 entertainment; and they were left to their unassisted 
 endeavours by Clara, who, during both the Tuesday and 
 Wednesday, obstinately kept herself secluded ; nor could 
 her brother, either by threats or flattery, extort from her 
 any light concerning her purpose on the approaching and 
 important Thursday. To do John Mowbray justice, he 
 loved his sister as much as he was capable of loving any 
 thing but himself; and when, in several arguments, he 
 had the mortification to find that she was not to be pre- 
 vailed on to afford her assistance, he, without complaint, 
 quietly set himself to do the best he could by his own 
 unassisted judgment or opinion with regard to the neces- 
 sary preparations. 
 
 This was not, at present, so easy a task as might be 
 supposed ; for Mowbray was ambitious of that character 
 of ton and elegance, which masculine faculties alone are 
 seldom capable of attaining on such momentous occasions. 
 The more solid materials of a collation were indeed to be 
 obtained for money from the next market town, and were 
 purchased accordingly ; but he felt it was likely to pre- 
 sent the vulgar plenty of a farmer's feast, instead of the 
 elegant entertainment, which might be announced in a 
 corner of the county paper, as given by John Mowbray, 
 Esq. of St. Ronan's, to the gay and fashionable company 
 assembled at that celebrated spring. There was likely
 
 15G WAVEKLET NOVELS. 
 
 to be all sorts of error and irregularity in dishing, and in 
 sending up ; for Shaws-Castle boasted neither an accom- 
 plished housekeeper, nor a kitchenmaid with a hundred 
 pair of hands to execute her mandates. All the domestic 
 arrangements were on the minutest system of economy 
 consistent with ordinary decency, except in the stables, 
 which were excellent and well kept. But can a groom 
 of the stables perform the labours of a groom of the cham- 
 bers ? or can the game-keeper arrange in tempting order 
 the carcasses of the birds he has shot, strew them with 
 flowers, and garnish them with piquant sauces ? It 
 would be as reasonable to expect a gallant soldier to act 
 as undertaker, and conduct the funeral of the enemy he 
 has slain. 
 
 In a word, Mowbray talked, and consulted, and ad- 
 vised, and squabbled, with the deaf cook, and a little old 
 man, whom he called the butler, until he at length per- 
 ceived so little chance of brinsnno; order out of confusion, 
 or making the least advantageous impression on such 
 obdurate understandings as he had to deal with, that he 
 fairly committed the whole matter of the collation, with 
 two or three hearty curses, to the charge of the officials 
 principally concerned, and proceeded to take the state of 
 the furniture and apartments under his consideration. 
 
 Here he found himself almost equally helpless ; for 
 what male wit is adequate to the thousand little coquetries 
 practised in such arrangements ? how can masculine eyes 
 judge of the degree of demi-jour which is to be admitted 
 into a decorated apartment, or discriminate where the 
 broad light should be suffered to fall on a tolerable pic- 
 ture, where it should be excluded, lest the stiff daub of a 
 periwigged grandsire should become too rigidly prom- 
 inent ? And if men are unfit for weaving such a fairy
 
 ST. roxan's well. 157 
 
 web of light and darkness as may best suit furniture, 
 ornaments, and complexions, how shall they be adequate 
 to the yet more mysterious office of arranging, while 
 they disarrange, the various moveables in the apartment ? 
 so that while all has the air of negligence and chance, 
 the seats are placed as if they had been transported by a 
 wish to the spot most suitable for accommodation ; stiff- 
 ness and confusion are at once avoided, the company are 
 neither limited to a formal circle of chairs, nor exposed 
 to break their noses over wandering stools ; but the ar- 
 rangements seem to correspond to what ought to be the 
 tone of the conversation, easy, without being confused, 
 and regulated, without being constrained or stiffened. 
 
 Then how can a clumsy male wit attempt the arrange- 
 ment of all the chiffonerie, by which old snuff-boxes, 
 heads of canes, pomander boxes, lamer beads, and all the 
 trash usually found in the pigeon-holes of the bureaus of 
 old-fashioned ladies, may be now brought into play, by 
 throwing them, carelessly grouped with other unconsid- 
 ered trifles, such as are to be seen in the windows of a 
 pawnbroker's shop, upon a marble encognure, or a mosaic 
 work-table, thereby turning to advantage the trash and 
 trinketry, which all the old maids or magpies, who have 
 inhabited the mansion for a century, have contrived to 
 accumulate. With what admiration of the ingenuity of 
 the fair artist have I sometimes pried into these miscel- 
 laneous groups of pseudo-bijouterie, and seen the great 
 grand-ire's thumb-ring couchant with the coral and bells 
 of the first-born — and the boatswain's whistle of some old 
 naval uncle, or his silver tobacco-box, redolent of Oroo- 
 noko, happily grouped with the mother's ivory comb-case, 
 still odorous of musk, and with some virgin aunt's tortoise- 
 shell spectacle-case, and the eagle's talon of ebony, with
 
 158 
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 
 
 which, in the days of long and stiff stays, our grand- 
 mothers were wont to alleviate any little irritation in 
 their hack or shoulders ! Then there was the silver 
 strainer, on which, in more economical times than ours, 
 the lady of the house placed the tea-leaves, after the very 
 last drop had been exhausted, that they might afterwards 
 be hospitably divided among the company, to be eaten 
 with sugar, and with bread and butter. Blessings upon 
 a fashion which has rescued from the claws of abigails, 
 and the melting-pot of the silversmith, those neglected 
 cimelia, for the benefit of antiquaries and the decoration 
 of side-tables ! But who shall presume to place them 
 there, unless under the direction of female taste ? and of 
 that Mr. Mowbray, though possessed of a large stock of 
 such treasures, was for the present entirely deprived. 
 
 This digression upon his difficulties is already too long, 
 or I might mention the Laird's inexperience in the art 
 of making the worse appear the better garnishment, of 
 hiding a darned carpet with a new floor-cloth, and fling- 
 ing an Indian shawl over a faded and threadbare sofa. 
 But I have said enough, and more than enough, to ex- 
 plain his dilemma to any unassisted bachelor, who, 
 without mother, sister, or cousin, without skilful house- 
 keeper, or experienced clerk of the kitchen, or valet of 
 parts and figure, adventures to give an entertainment, 
 and aspires to make it elegant and comme il faut. 
 
 The sense of his insufficiency was the more vexatious 
 to Mowbray, as he was aware he would find sharp critics 
 in the ladies, and particularly in his constant rival, Lady 
 Penelope Penfeather. He was, therefore, incessant in 
 his exertions ; and for two whole days ordered and dis- 
 ordered, demanded, commanded, countermanded, and 
 reprimanded, without pause or cessation. The com-
 
 ST. RONAX'S WELL. 159 
 
 panion, for he could not be termed an assistant of his 
 labours, was his trusty agent, who trotted from room to 
 room after him, affording him exactly the same degree 
 of sympathy which a dog dolh to his master when dis- 
 tressed in mind, by looking in his face from time to time 
 with a piteous gaze, as if to assure him that he partakes 
 of his trouble, though he neither comprehends the cause 
 or the extent of it, nor has in the slightest degree the 
 power to remove it. 
 
 At length, when Mowbray had got some matters 
 arranged to his mind, and abandoned a great many which 
 he would willingly have put in better order, he sat down 
 to dinner upon the Wednesday preceding the appointed 
 day, with his worthy aid-de-camp, Mr. Meiklewhain ; and, 
 after bestowing a few muttered curses upon the whole 
 concern, and the fantastic old maid who had brought 
 them into the scrape, by begging an invitation, declared 
 that all things might now go to the devil their own way, 
 for so sure as his name was John Mowbray, he would 
 trouble himself no more about them. 
 
 Keeping this doughty resolution, he sat down to dinner 
 with his counsel learned in the law ; and speedily they 
 despatched the dish of chops which was set before them, 
 and the better part of the bottle of old port, which served 
 for its menstruum. 
 
 " We are well enough now," said Mowbray, " though 
 we have had none of their d — d kickshaws." 
 
 " A wame-fou' is a wame-fou'," said the writer, swab- 
 bing his greasy chops, " whether it be of the barleymeal 
 or the bran." 
 
 " A cart-horse thinks so," said Mowbray ; " but we 
 must do as others do, and gentlemen and ladies are of a 
 different opinion."
 
 ICO WAVERLEY NOVELS. 
 
 " The waur for themselves and the country baith, St. 
 Ronan's — it's the jinketing and the jirbling wi' tea and 
 wi' trumpery that brings our nobles to ninepence, and 
 mony a het ha'-house to a hired lodging in the Abbey." 
 
 The young gentleman paused for a few minutes — filled 
 a bumper, and pushed the bottle to the senior — then said 
 abruptly, " Do you believe in luck, Mick ? " 
 
 " In luck ? " answered the attorney ; " what do you 
 mean by the question?" 
 
 " Why, because I believe in luck myself — in a good or 
 bad run of luck at cards." 
 
 " You wad have mair luck the day, if you had never 
 touched them," replied his confidant. 
 
 " That is not the question now," said Mowbray ; " but 
 what I wonder at is the wretched chance that has attend- 
 ed us miserable Lairds of St. Ronan's for more than a 
 hundred years, that we have always been getting worse 
 in the world, and never better. Never has there been 
 such a backsliding generation, as the parson would say — 
 half the country once belonged to my ancestors, and now 
 the last furrows of it seem to be flying." 
 
 " Fleeing ! " said the Avriter, " they are barking and 
 fleeing baith, — This Shaws-Castle here, I'se warrant it 
 flee up the chimney after the rest, were it not weel 
 fastened down with your grandfather's tailzie." 
 
 " D — n the tailzie ! " said Mowbray ; " if they had 
 meant to keep up their estate, they should have entailed 
 it when it was worth keeping : to tie a man down to such 
 an insignificant thing as St. Ronan's, is like tethering a 
 horse on six roods of a Highland moor." 
 
 " Ye have broke weel in on the mailing by your feus 
 down at the Well," said Meiklewham, " and raxed ower 
 the tether maybe a wee bit farther than ye had ony right 
 to do."
 
 ST. ronan's well. 161 
 
 " It was by your advice, was it not ? " said the Laird. 
 
 " I'se ne'er deny it, St. Ronan's," answered the writer ; 
 " but I am such a gude-natured guse, that I just set about 
 pleasing you as an auld wife pleases a bairn." 
 
 " Ay," said the man of pleasure, " when she reaches 
 it a knife to cut its own fingers with. — These acres 
 would have been safe enough, if it had not been for your 
 d — d advice." 
 
 " And yet you were grumbling e'en now," said the 
 man of business, " that you have not the power to gar 
 the whole estate flee like a wild-duck across a bog ? 
 Troth, you need care little about it ; for if you have in- 
 curred an irritancy — and sae thinks Mr. Wisebehind, the 
 advocate, upon an A. B. memorial that I laid before him 
 — your sister, or your sister's goodman, if she should take 
 the fancy to marry, might bring a declarator, and evict St. 
 Ronan's frae ye in the course of twa or three sessions." 
 
 " My sister will never marry," said John Mowbray. 
 
 " That's easily said," replied the writer ; " but as 
 broken a ship's come to land. If ony body kend o' the 
 chance she has o' the estate, there's mony a weel-doing 
 man would think little of the bee in her bonnet." 
 
 " Harkye, Mr. Meiklewham," said the Laird, " I will 
 be obliged to you if you will speak of Miss Mowbray with 
 the respect due to her father's daughter, and my sister." 
 
 " Nae offence, St. Ronan's, nae offence," answered the 
 man of law ; " but ilka man maun speak sae as to be 
 understood, — that is, when he speaks about business. Ye 
 ken yoursell, that Miss Clara is no just like other folks ; 
 and were I you — it's my duty to speak plain — I wad 
 e'en gie in a bit scroll of a petition to the Lords, to be 
 appointed Curator Bonis, in respect of her incapacity to 
 manage her own affairs." 
 
 VOL. XXXIII 11
 
 102 WA.VERLEY NOVELS. 
 
 " Meiklewham," said Mowbray, " you are a " ■ 
 
 and then stopped short. 
 
 " What am I, Mr. Mowbray ? " said Meiklewham, 
 somewhat sternly — " What am I ? I wad be glad to ken 
 what I am." 
 
 " A very good lawyer, I dare say," replied St. Ronan's, 
 who was too much in the power of his agent to give way 
 to his first impulse. " But I must tell you, that rather 
 than take such a measure against poor Clara, as you 
 recommend, I would give her up the estate, and become 
 an ostler or a postilion for the rest of my life." 
 
 " Ah, St. Ronan's," said the man of law, " if you had 
 wished to keep up the auld house, you should have taken 
 another trade, than to become an ostler or a postilion. 
 What ailed you, man, but to have been a lawyer as weel 
 as other folks? My auld master had a wee bit Latin 
 about rerum dominos gentcmque togatam, whilk signified, 
 he said, that all lairds should be lawyers." 
 
 " All lawyers are likely to become lairds, I think," 
 replied Mowbray ; " they purchase our acres by the 
 thousand, and pay us, according to the old story, with a 
 multiplepoinding, as your learned friends call it, Mr. 
 Meiklewham." 
 
 " Weel — and mightna you have purchased as weel as 
 other folks ? " 
 
 " Not I," replied the Laird ; " I have no turn for that 
 service, I should only have wasted bombazine on my 
 shoulders, and flour upon my three-tailed wig — should 
 but have lounged away my mornings in the Outer-House, 
 and my evenings at the play-house, and acquired no 
 more law than what would have made me a wise justice 
 at a Small-debt Court." 
 
 " If you gained little, you would have lost as little,"
 
 st. ronan's well. 163 
 
 said Meiklewham ; " and albeit ye were nae great gun at 
 the bar, ye might aye have gotten a Sheriffdom, or a 
 Commissaryship, amang the lave, to keep the banes 
 green ; and sae ye might have saved your estate from 
 deteriorating, if ye didna mend it muckle." 
 
 " Yes, but I could not have had the chance of doub- 
 ling it, as I might have done," answered Mowbray, " had 
 that inconstant jade, Fortune, but stood a moment faith- 
 ful to me. I tell you, Mick, that I have been within this 
 twelvemonth, worth a hundred thousand — worth fifty 
 thousand — worth nothing, but the remnant of this 
 wretched estate, which is too little to do one good while 
 it is mine, though, were it sold, I could start again, and 
 mend my hand a little." 
 
 "Ay, ay, just fling the helve after the hatchet," said 
 his legal adviser — " that's a' you think of. What signi- 
 fies winning a hundred thousand pounds, if you win them 
 to lose them a' again ? " 
 
 " What signifies it ? " replied Mowbray. " Why, it 
 signifies as much to a man of spirit, as having won a 
 battle signifies to a general — no matter that he is beaten 
 afterwards in his turn, he knows there is luck for him as 
 well as others, and so he has spirit to try it again. Here 
 is the young Earl of Etherington will be amongst us in 
 a day or two — they say he is up to every thing — if I 
 had but five hundred to begin with, I should be soon up 
 to him." 
 
 " Mr. Mowbray," said Meiklewham, " I am sorry for 
 ye. I have been your house's man-of-business — I may 
 say, in some measure, your house's servant — and now I 
 am to see an end of it all, and just by the lad that I 
 thought maist likely to set it up again better than ever ; 
 for, to do ye justice, you have aye had an ee to your ain
 
 164 WAVEKLEY NOVELS. 
 
 interest, sae far as your lights gaed. It brings tears into 
 my auld een." 
 
 " Never weep for the matter, Mick," answered Mow- 
 bray ; " some of it will stick, my old boy, in your pock- 
 ets, if not in mine — your service will not be altogether gra- 
 tuitous, my old friend — the labourer is worthy of his hire." 
 
 " Weel, I wot is he," said the writer ; " but double 
 •fees would hardly carry folk through some wark. But 
 if ye will have siller, ye maun have siller — but, I war- 
 rant, it goes just where the rest gaed." 
 
 " No, by twenty devils ! " exclaimed Mowbray, " to fail 
 this time is impossible — Jack Wolverine was too strong 
 for Etherington at any thing he could name ; and I can 
 beat Wolverine from the Land's End to Johnnie Groat's 
 — but there must be something to go upon — the blunt 
 must be had, Mick." 
 
 " Very likely — nae doubt — that is always provided it 
 can be had," answered the legal adviser. 
 
 " That's your business, my old cock," said Mowbray. 
 " This youngster will be here perhaps to-morrow, with 
 money in both pockets — he takes up his rents as he 
 comes down, Mick — think of that my old friend." 
 
 " Weel for them that have rents to take up," said 
 Meiklewham ; " ours are lying rather ower low to be 
 lifted at present. — But are you sure this Earl is a man 
 to mell with ? — are you sure ye can win of him, and that 
 if you do, he can pay his losings, Mr. Mowbray ? — be- 
 cause I have kend mony ane come for wool, and gang 
 hame shorn ; and though ye are a clever young gentle- 
 man, and I am bound to suppose ye ken as much about 
 life as most folk, and all that, yet some gate or other ye 
 have aye come off at the losing hand, as ye have ower 
 much reason to ken this day — howbeit"
 
 ST. ROXAX'S WELL. 1G5 
 
 " Oh, the devil take your gossip, my dear Mick ! If 
 you can give no help, spare drowning me with your 
 pother. "Why, man, I was a fresh hand — had my ap- 
 prentice-fees to pay — and these are no trifles, Mick. — ■ 
 But what of that ? — I am free of the company now, and 
 can trade on my own bottom." 
 
 " Aweel, aweel, I wish it may be sae," said Meikle- 
 wham. 
 
 " It will be so, and it shall be so, my trusty friend," re- 
 plied Mowbray, cheerily, "so you will but help me to 
 the stock to trade with." 
 
 " The stock ? — what d'ye ca' the stock ? I ken nae 
 stock that ye have left." 
 
 " But you have plenty, my old boy — Come, sell out a 
 few of your three per cents ; I will pay difference — in- 
 terest — exchange — every thing." 
 
 " Ay, ay — every thing or naething," answered Meikle- 
 wham ; " but as you are sae very pressing, I hae been 
 thinking — Whan is the siller wanted ? " 
 
 " This instant — this day — to-morrow at farthest ! " ex- 
 claimed the proposed borrower. 
 
 " Wh — ew ! " whistled the lawyer, with a long prolon- 
 gation of the note ; " the thing is impossible." 
 
 " It must be, Mick, for all that," answered Mr. Mow- 
 bray, who knew by experience that impossible, when 
 uttered by his accommodating^ friend in this tone, meant 
 only, when interpreted, extremely difficult, and very ex- 
 pensive. 
 
 "Then it must be by Miss Clara selling her stock, 
 now that ye speak of stock," said Meiklewham ; " I won- 
 der ye didna think of this before." 
 
 " I wish you had been dumb rather than that you had 
 mentioned it now," said Mowbray, starting, as if stung
 
 166 WAVEKLEY NOVELS. 
 
 by an adder — " What, Clara's pittance ! — the trifle my 
 aunt left her for her own fanciful expenses — her own 
 little private store, that she puts to so many good pur- 
 poses — p or Clara, that has so little ! — And why not 
 rather your own, Master Meiklewham, who call yourself 
 the friend and servant of our family ? " 
 
 " Ay, St. Ronan's," answered Meiklewham, " that is 
 a' very true — but service is nae inheritance ; and as for 
 friendship, it begins at hame, as wise folks have said lang 
 before our time. And for that matter, I think they that 
 are nearest sib should take maist risk. You are nearer 
 and dearer to your sister, St. Ronan's, than you are to 
 poor Saunders Meiklewham, that hasna sae muckle 
 gentle blood as would supper up a hungry flea." 
 
 " I will not do this," said St. Ronan's, walking up and 
 down with much agitation ; for, selfish as he was, he 
 loved his sister, and loved her the more on account of 
 those peculiarities which rendered his protection indis- 
 pensable to her comfortable existence — " I will not," he 
 said, " pillage her, come on't what will. I will rather 
 go a volunteer to the Continent, and die like a gentle- 
 man." 
 
 He continued to pace the room in a moody silence, 
 which began to disturb his companion, who had not been 
 hitherto accustomed to see his patron take matters so 
 deeply. At length he made an attempt to attract the 
 attention of the silent and sullen ponderer. 
 
 " Mr. Mowbray " — no answer — " I was saying, St. 
 Ronan's " — still no reply. " I have been thinking about 
 this matter — and " 
 
 " And what, sir ? " said St. Ronan's, stopping short, 
 and speaking in a stern tone of voice. 
 
 " And to speak truth, I see little feasibility in the
 
 st. ronan's well. 167 
 
 matter ony way ; for if ye had the siller in your pocket 
 to-day, it would be a' in the Earl of Etherington's the 
 morn." 
 
 " Pshaw ! you are a fool," answered Mowbray. 
 
 " That is not unlikely," said Meiklewham ; " but so is 
 Sir Bingo Binks, and yet he's had the better of you, St. 
 Eonan's, this twa or three times." 
 
 " It is false ! — he has not," answered St. Ronan's, 
 fiercely. 
 
 " Weel I wot," resumed Meiklewham, " he took you in 
 about the saumon fish, and some other wager ye lost to 
 him this very day." 
 
 " I tell you once more, Meiklewham, you are a fool, 
 and no more up to my trim than you are to the longitude 
 — Bingo is got shy — I must give him a little line, that is 
 all — then I shall strike him to purpose — I am as sure of 
 him as I am of the other — I know the fly they will both 
 rise to — this cursed want of five hundred will do me out 
 of ten thousand ! " 
 
 " If you are so certain of being the bagster — so very 
 certain, I mean, of sweeping stakes, — what harm will 
 Miss Clara come to by your having the use of her 
 siller ? You can make it up to her for the risk ten 
 times told." 
 
 "And so I can, by Heaven!" said St. Ronan's. 
 " Mick, you are right, and I am a scrupulous, chicken- 
 hearted fool. Clara shall have a thousand for her poor 
 
 five hundred — she shall, by . And I will carry her 
 
 to Edinburgh for a season, or perhaps to London, and we 
 will have the best advice for her case, and the best com- 
 pany to divert her. And if they think her a little odd 
 — why, d — n me, I am her brother, and will bear her 
 through it. Yes — yes — you're right ; there can be no
 
 1G8 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 
 
 hurt in borrowing five hundred of her for a few days, 
 when such profit may be made on't, both for her and me. 
 — Here, fill the glasses, my old boy, and drink success to 
 it, for you are right." 
 
 " Here is success to it, with all my heart," answered 
 Meiklewham, heartily glad to see his patron's sanguine 
 temper arrive at this desirable conclusion, and yet willing 
 to hedge in his own credit ; " but it is you are right, and 
 not me, for I advise nothing except on your assurances, 
 that you can make your ain of this English earl, and of 
 this Sir Bingo — and if you can but do that, I am sure it 
 would be unwise and unkind in ony ane of your friends 
 to stand in your light." 
 
 " True, Mick, true," answered Mowbray. — " And yet 
 dice and cards are but bones and pasteboard, and the best 
 horse ever started may slip a shoulder before he get to 
 the winning-post — and so I wish Clara's venture had not 
 been in such a bottom. — But, hang it, care killed a cat — 
 I can hedge as well as any one, if the odds turn up 
 against me — so let us have the cash, Mick." 
 
 " Aha ! but there go two words to that bargain — the 
 stock stands in my name, and Tam Turnpenny the bank- 
 er's, as trustees for Miss Clara — Now, get you her letter 
 to us, desiring us to sell out and to pay you the proceeds, 
 and Tam Turnpenny will let you have five hundred 
 pounds instanter, on the faith of the transaction ; for I 
 fancy you would desire a' the stock to be sold out, and it 
 will produce more than six hundred, or seven hundred 
 pounds either — and I reckon you will be selling out the 
 whole — it's needless making tvva bites of a cherry." 
 
 " True," answered Mowbray ; " since we must be 
 rogues, or something like it, let us make it worth our 
 while at least ; so give me a form of the letter, and Clara
 
 ST. eoxan's well. 169 
 
 shall copy it — that is, if she consents ; for you know she 
 can keep her own opinion as well as any other woman in 
 the world." 
 
 " And that," said Meiklewham, " is as the wind will 
 keep its way, preach to it as you like. But if I might 
 advise about Miss Clara — I wad say naething mair than 
 that I was stressed for the penny money ; for I mistake 
 her muckle if she would like to see you ganging to pitch 
 and toss wi' this lord and tither baronet for her aunt's 
 three per cents — I ken she has some queer notions — she 
 gies away the feck of the dividends on that very stock 
 in downright charity." 
 
 " And I am in hazard to rob the poor as well as my 
 sister ! " said Mowbray, filling once more his own glass 
 and his friend's. " Come, Mick, no skylights — here is 
 Clara's health — she is an angel — and I am — what I will 
 not call myself, and suffer no other man to call me. — But 
 I shall win this time — I am sure I shall, since Clara's 
 fortune depends upon it." 
 
 " Now, I think, on the other hand," said Meiklewham, 
 " that if any thing should chance wrang, (and Heaven 
 kens that the best-laid schemes will gang ajee,) it will be 
 a great comfort to think that the ultimate losers will only 
 be the poor folk, that have the parish between them and 
 absolute starvation — if your sister spent her ain siller, it 
 would be a very different story." 
 
 " Hush, Mick — for God's sake, hush, mine honest 
 friend," said Mowbray ; " it is quite true ; thou art a 
 rare counsellor, in time of need, and hast as happy a 
 manner of reconciling a man's conscience with his neces- 
 sities, as might set up a score of casuists ; but beware, 
 my most zealous counsellor and confessor, how you drive 
 the nail too far — I promise you some of the chaffing you
 
 170 
 
 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 
 
 are at just now rather abates my pluck. — Well — give me 
 your scroll — I will to Clara with it — though I would 
 rather meet the best shot in Britain, with ten paces of 
 green sod betwixt us." So saying, he left the apart- 
 ment. 
 
 
 ••'(.? sr <J •-
 
 ST. ronan's well. 171 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 FRATERNAL LOVE. 
 
 Nearest of blood should still be next in love ; 
 And when I see these happy children playing, 
 While William gathers flowers for Ellen's ringlets, 
 And Ellen dresses flies for William's angle, 
 I scarce can think, that in advancing life, 
 Coldness, unkindness, interest, or suspicion, 
 Will e'er divide that unity so sacred, 
 Which Nature bound at birth. 
 
 Anonymous. 
 
 When Mowbray had left his dangerous adviser, in 
 order to steer the course which his agent had indicated, 
 without offering to recommend it, he went to the little 
 parlour which his sister was wont to term her own, and 
 in which she spent great part of her time. It was fitted 
 up with a sort of fanciful neatness ; and in its perfect 
 arrangement and good order, formed a strong contrast to 
 the other apartments of the old and neglected mansion- 
 house. A number of little articles lay on the work-table, 
 indicating the elegant, and, at the same time, the unset- 
 tled turn of the inhabitant's mind. There were unfinished 
 drawings, blotted music, needle-work of various kinds, 
 and many other little female tasks ; all undertaken with 
 zeal, and so far prosecuted with art and elegance, but all 
 flung aside before any one of them was completed.
 
 172 \\ AVERLEY NOVELS. 
 
 Clara herself sat upon a little low couch by the window, 
 reading, or at least turning over the leaves of a book, in 
 which she seemed to read. But instantly starting up 
 when she saw her brother, she ran towards hirn with the 
 most cordial cheerfulness. 
 
 " Welcome, welcome, my dear John ; this is very kind 
 of you to come to visit your recluse sister. I have been 
 trying to nail my eyes and my understanding to a stupid 
 book here, because they say too much thought is not quite 
 good for me. But, either the man's dulness, or my want 
 of the power of attending, makes my eyes pass over the 
 page, just as one seems to read in a dream, without being 
 able to comprehend one word of the matter. You shall 
 talk to me, and that will do better. What can I give you 
 to show that you are welcome ? I am afraid tea is all I 
 have to offer, and that you set too little store by." 
 
 " I shall be glad of a cup at present," said Mowbray, 
 " for I wish to speak with you." 
 
 " Then Jessy shall make it ready instantly," said Miss 
 Mowbray, ringing, and giving orders to her waiting-maid 
 — " but you must not be ungrateful, John, and plague me 
 with any of the ceremonial for your fete — ' sufficient for 
 the day is the evil thereof.' I will attend, and play my 
 part as prettily as you can desire ; but to think of it be- 
 forehand, would make both my head and my heart ache ; 
 and so I beg you will spare me on the subject." 
 
 " Why, you wild kitten," said Mowbray, " you turn 
 every day more shy of human communication — we shall 
 have you take the woods one day, and become as savage 
 as the Princess Caraboo. But I will plague you about 
 nothing if I can help it. If matters go not smooth on 
 the great day, they must e'en blame the dull thick head 
 that had no fair lady to help him in his need. But,
 
 ST. ronan's well. 173 
 
 Clara, I had something more material to say to you — 
 something indeed of the last importance." 
 
 " What is it?" said Clara, in a tone of voice approach- 
 in°- to a scream — " In the name of God, what is it ? You 
 know not how you terrify me ! " 
 
 " Nay, you start at a shadow, Clara," answered her 
 brother. " It is no such uncommon matter neither — good 
 faith, it is the most common distress in the world, so far 
 as I know the world — I am sorely pinched for money." 
 
 " Is that all ? " replied Clara, in a tone which seemed 
 to her brother as much to underrate the difficulty, when it 
 was explained, as her fears had exaggerated it before she 
 heard its nature. 
 
 " Is that all ? Indeed it is all, and comprehends a 
 great deal of vexation. I shall be hard run unless I can 
 get a certain sum of money — and I must e'en ask you if 
 you can help me ? " 
 
 " Help you ? " replied Clara ; " Yes, with all my heart 
 — but you know my purse is a light one — more than 
 half of my last dividend is in it, however, and I am sure, 
 John, I shall be happy if it can serve you — especially as 
 that will at least show that your wants are but small ones." 
 
 " Alas, Clara, if you would help me," said her brother, 
 half repentant of his purpose, " you must draw the neck 
 of the goose which lays the golden eggs — you must lend 
 me the whole stock." 
 
 "And why not, John," said the simple-hearted girl, 
 " if it will do you a kindness ? Are you not my natural 
 guardian ? Are you not a kind one ? And is not my 
 little fortune entirely at your disposal ? You will, I am 
 sure, do all for the best." 
 
 " I fear I may not," said Mowbray, starting from her, 
 and more distressed by her sudden and unsuspicious com-
 
 174 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 
 
 pliance, than he would have been by difficulties, or re- 
 monstrance. In the latter case, he would have stifled 
 the pangs of conscience amid the manoeuvres which he 
 must have resorted to for obtaining her acquiescence ; as 
 matters stood, there was all the difference that there is be- 
 tween slaughtering a tame and unresisting animal, and pur- 
 suing wild game, until the animation of the sportsman's 
 exertions overcomes the internal sense of his own cruelty. 
 The same idea occurred to Mowbray himself. 
 
 " By G — ," he said, " this is like shooting the bird sit- 
 ting. — Clara," he added, " I fear this money will scarce 
 be employed as you would wish." 
 
 " Employ it as you yourself please, my dearest brother," 
 she replied, " and I will believe it is all for the best." 
 
 " Nay, I am doing for the best," he replied ; " at least, 
 I am doing what must be done, for I see no other way 
 through it — so all you have to do is to copy this paper, 
 and bid adieu to bank dividends — for a little while at 
 least. I trust soon to double this little matter for you, if 
 Fortune will but stand my friend." 
 
 " Do not trust to Fortune, John," said Clara, smiling, 
 though with an expression of deep melancholy. " Alas ! 
 she has never been a friend to our family — not at least 
 for many a day." 
 
 " She favours the bold, say my old grammatical exer- 
 cises," answered her brother; "and I must trust her, were 
 she as changeable as a weathercock. — And yet — if she 
 should jilt me ! — What will you do — what will you say, 
 Clara, if I am unable, contrary to my hope, trust, and ex- 
 pectation, to repay you this money within a short time ? " 
 
 "Do!" replied Clara; "I must do without it, you 
 know ; and for saying, I will not say a woi*d." 
 
 " True," replied Mowbray, " but your little expenses
 
 ST. RONAX'S WELL. 175 
 
 — your chanties — your halt and blind — your round of 
 paupers ? " 
 
 " Well, I can manage all that too. Look you here, 
 John, how many half-worked trifles there are. The 
 needle or the pencil is the resource of all distressed 
 heroines, you know ; and I promise you, though I have 
 been a little idle and unsettled of late, yet, when I do set 
 about it, no Etnmeline or Ethelinde of them all ever sent 
 such loads of trumpery to market as I shall, or made 
 such wealth as I will do. I dare say Lady Penelope, 
 and all the gentry at the Well, will purchase, and will 
 raffle, and do all sorts of things to encourage the pensive 
 performer. I will send them such lots of landscapes with 
 sap-green trees, and mazareen-blue rivers, and portraits 
 that will terrify the originals themselves — and handker- 
 chiefs and turbans, with needle-work scalloped exactly 
 like the walks on the Belvidere — Why, I shall become a 
 little fortune in the first season." 
 
 " No, Clara," said John, gravely, for a virtuous resolu- 
 tion had gained the upper hand in his bosom, while his 
 sister ran on in this manner. — " We will do something 
 better than all this. If this kind help of yours does not 
 fetch me through, I am determined I will cut the whole 
 concern. It is but standing a laugh or two, and hearing 
 a gay fellow say, Damme, Jack, are you turned clodhop- 
 per at last ! — that is the worst. Dogs, horses, and all, 
 shall go to the hammer ; we will keep nothing but your 
 pony, and I will trust to a pair of excellent legs. There 
 is enough left of the old acres to keep us in the way you 
 like best, and that I will learn to like. I will work in 
 the garden, and work in the forest, mark my own trees, 
 and cut them myself, keep my own accounts, and send 
 Saunders Meiklewham to the devil."
 
 176 WAVERLET NOVELS. 
 
 " That last is the best resolution of all, John," said 
 Clara ; " and if such a day should come round, I should 
 be the happiest of living creatures — I should not have a 
 grief left in the world — if I had, you should never see 
 or hear of it — it should lie here," she said, pressing her 
 hand on her bosom, " buried as deep as a funereal urn in 
 a cold sepulchre. Oh ! could we not begin such a life- 
 to-morrow ? If it is absolutely necessary that this trifle 
 of money should be got rid of first, throw it into the 
 river, and think you have lost it amongst gamblers and 
 horse-jockeys." 
 
 Clara's eyes, which she fondly fixed on her brother's 
 face, glowed through the tears which her enthusiasm 
 called into them, while she thus addressed him. Mow- 
 bray, on his part, kept his looks fixed on the ground, with 
 a flush on his cheek, that expressed at once false pride 
 and real shame. 
 
 At length he looked up : — " My dear girl," he said, 
 " how foolishly you talk, and how foolishly I, that have 
 twenty things to do, stand here listening to you ! All 
 will go smooth on my plan — if it should not, we have 
 yours in reserve, and I swear to you I will adopt it. The 
 trifle which this letter of yours enables me to command, 
 may have luck in it, and we must not throw up the cards 
 while we have a chance of the game. — Were I to cut 
 from this moment, these few hundreds would make us 
 little better or little worse — so you see we have two 
 strings to our bow. Luck is sometimes against me, that 
 is true — but upon true principle, and playing on the 
 square, I can manage the best of them, or my name is 
 not Mowbray. Adieu, my dearest Clara." So saying, 
 he kissed her cheek with a more than usual degree of 
 affection.
 
 ST. RON AST S WELL. 177 
 
 Ere he could raise himself from bis stooping posture, 
 she threw her arm kindly over his neck, and said with a 
 tone of the deepest interest, " My dearest brother, your 
 slightest wish has been, and ever sball be, a law to me — 
 Oh ! if you would but grant me one request in return ! " 
 
 " What is it, you silly girl ? " said Mowbray, gently 
 disengaging himself from her hold. — " What is it you 
 can have to ask that needs such a solemn preface ? — Re- 
 member, I hate prefaces ; and when I happen to open a 
 book, always skip them." 
 
 Without preface, then, my dearest brother, will you, 
 for my sake, avoid those quarrels in which the people 
 yonder are eternally engaged ? I never go down there 
 but I hear of some new brawl ; and I never lay my head 
 down to sleep, but I dream that you are the victim of it. 
 Even last night " 
 
 " Nay, Clara, if you begin to tell your dreams, we 
 shall never have done. Sleeping, to be sure, is the most 
 serious employment of your life — for as to eating, you 
 hardly match a sparrow ; but I entreat you to sleep with- 
 out dreaming, or to keep your visions to yourself. — Why 
 do you keep such fast hold of me ? — What on earth can 
 you be afraid of? — Surely you do not think the block- 
 head Binks, or any other of the good folks below yonder, 
 dared to turn on me ? Egad, I wish they would pluck 
 up a little mettle, that I might have an excuse for drill- 
 ing them. Gad, I would soon teach them to follow at 
 heel." 
 
 " No, John," replied his sister ; " it is not of such men 
 as these that I have any fear — and yet, cowards are 
 sometimes driven to desperation, and become more dan- 
 gerous than better men — but it is not such as these that 
 I fear. But there are men in the world whose qualities 
 
 VOL. XXXIII. 12
 
 178 WAVKKLEY NOVELS. 
 
 are beyond their seeming — whose spirit and courage lie 
 bidden, like metals in the mine, under an unmarked or a 
 plain exterior. — You may meet with such — you are rash 
 and headlong, and apt to exercise your wit without always 
 weighing consequences, and thus" 
 
 " On my word, Clara," answered Mowbray, " you are 
 in a most sermonizing humour this morning ! the parson 
 himself could not have been more logical or profound. 
 You have only to divide your discourse into heads, and 
 garnish it with conclusions for use, and conclusions for 
 doctrine, and it might be preached before a whole pres- 
 bytery, with every chance of instruction and edification. 
 But I am a man of the world, my little Clara ; and 
 though I wish to go in death's way as little as possible, I 
 must not fear the raw-head and bloody-bones neither. — 
 And who the devil is to put the question to me ? — I 
 must know that, Clara, for you have some especial 
 person in your eye when you bid me take care of 
 quarrelling. 
 
 Clara could not become paler than was her usual com- 
 plexion ; but her voice faltered as she eagerly assured 
 her brother, that she had no particular person in her 
 thoughts. 
 
 " Clara," said her brother, " do you remember, when 
 there was a report of a bogle * in the upper orchard, 
 when we were both children ? — Do you remember how 
 you were perpetually telling me to take care of the bogle, 
 and keep away from its haums ? — And do you remember 
 my going on purpose to detect the bogle, finding the cow- 
 boy, with a shirt about him, busied in pulling pears, and 
 treating him to a handsome drubbing? — I am the same 
 Jack Mowbray still, as ready to face danger, and unmask 
 * Bogle — in English, Goblin.
 
 ST. ROXAX's WELL. 179 
 
 imposition ; and your fears, Clara, will only make me 
 Watch more closely, till I find out the real object of them. 
 If you warn me of quarrelling with some one, it must be 
 because you know some one who is not unlikely to 
 quarrel with me. You are a flighty and fanciful girl, 
 but you have sense enough not to trouble either yourself 
 or me on a point of honour, save when th^re is some 
 good reason for it." 
 
 Clara once more protested, and it was with the deepest 
 anxiety to be believed, that what she had said arose only 
 out of the general consequences which she apprehended 
 from the line of conduct her brother had adopted, and 
 which, in her apprehension, was so likely to engage him 
 in the broils that divided the good company at the Spring. 
 Mowbray listened to her explanation with an air of 
 doubt, or rather incredulity, sipped a cup of tea which 
 had for some time been placed before him ; and at length 
 replied, " Well, Clara, whether I am right or wrong in 
 my guess, it would be cruel to torment you any more, 
 remembering what you have just done for me. But do 
 justice to your brother, and believe, that when you have 
 any thing to ask of him, an explicit declaration of your 
 wishes will answer your purpose much better than any 
 ingenious oblique attempts to influence me. Give up 
 all thoughts of such, my dear Clara — you are but a 
 poor manoeuvrer, but were you the very Machiavel of 
 your sex, you should not turn the flank of John Mow- 
 bray." 
 
 He left the room as he spoke, and did not return, 
 though his sister twice called upon him. It is true that 
 she uttez-ed the word brother so faintly, that perhaps the 
 sound did not reach his ears. — " He is gone," she said, 
 " and I have had no power to speak out ! I am like the
 
 180 -WAVERLEY NOVELS. 
 
 wretched creatures, who, it is said, lie under a potent 
 charm, that prevents them alike from shedding tears and 
 from confessing their crimes — Yes, there is a spell on 
 this unhappy heart, and either that must be dissolved or 
 this must break."
 
 ST. roxan's well. 181 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 THE CHALLENGE. 
 
 A slight note I have about me, for the delivery of which you must excuse 
 me. It is an office which friendship calls upon me to do, and no way offensive 
 to you, as I desire nothing but right on both sides. 
 
 King and no Kino. 
 
 The intelligent reader may recollect, that Tyrrel 
 departed from the Fox Hotel on terms not altogether so 
 friendly towards the company as those under which he 
 entered it. Indeed, it occurred to him, that he might 
 probably have heard something farther on the subject, 
 though, amidst matters of deeper and more anxious con- 
 sideration, the idea only passed hastily through his mind ; 
 and two days having gone over without any message 
 from Sir Bingo Binks, the whole affair glided entirely 
 out of his memory. 
 
 The truth was that although never old woman took 
 more trouble to collect and blow up with her bellows the 
 embers of her decayed fire, than Captain MacTurk kindly 
 underwent for the purpose of puffing into a flame the 
 dying sparkles of the Baronet's courage, yet two days 
 were spent in fruitless conferences before he could attain 
 the desired point. He found Sir Bingo on these different 
 occasions in all sorts of different moods of mind, and dis- 
 posed to view the thing in all shades of light, except
 
 182 WAVERLKT NOVELS. 
 
 what the Captain thought was the true one. — He was in 
 a drunken humour — in a sullen humour — in a thoughtless 
 and vilipending humour — in every humour hut a fighting 
 one. And when Captain MacTurk talked of the reputa- 
 tion of the company at the Well, Sir Bingo pretended to 
 take offence, said the company might go to the devil, and 
 hinted that he "did them sufficient honour by gracing 
 them with his countenance, but did not mean to constitute 
 them any judges of his affairs. The fellow was a raff, 
 and he would have nothing to do with him." 
 
 Captain MacTurk would willingly have taken measures 
 against the Baronet himself, as in a state of contumacy, 
 but was opposed by Winterblossom and other members 
 of the committee, who considered Sir Bingo as too im- 
 portant and illustrious a member of their society to be 
 rashly expelled from a place not honoured by the resi- 
 dence of many persons of rank ; and finally insisted that 
 nothing should be done in the matter without the advice 
 of Mowbray, whose preparations for his solemn festival 
 on the following Thursday had so much occupied him, 
 that he had not lately appeared at the Well. 
 
 In the meanwhile, the gallant Captain seemed to 
 experience as much distress of mind, as if some stain 
 had lain on his own most unblemished of reputations. 
 He went up and down upon the points of his toes, rising 
 up on his instep with a jerk which at once expressed 
 vexation and defiance — He carried his nose turned up in 
 the air, like that of a pig when he snuffs the approaching 
 storm — He spoke in monosyllables when he spoke at all ; 
 and — what perhaps illustrated in the strongest manner 
 the depth of his feelings — he refused, in face of the whole 
 company, to pledge Sir Bingo in a glass of the Baronet's 
 peculiar cogniac.
 
 ST. EOXAX'S WELL. 183 
 
 At length, the whole Well was alarmed by the report 
 brought by a smart outrider, that the young Earl of 
 Etherington, reported to be rising on the horizon of 
 fashion as a star of the first magnitude, intended to pass 
 an hour, or a day, or a week, as it might happen, (for his 
 lordship could not be supposed to know his own mind,) 
 at St. Ronan's Well. 
 
 This suddenly put all in motion. Almanacs were 
 opened to ascertain his lordship's age, inquiries were 
 made concerning the extent of his fortune, his habits were 
 quoted, his tastes were guessed at, and all that the in- 
 genuity of the Managing Committee could devise was 
 resorted to, in order to recommend their Spa to this 
 favourite of fortune. An express was despatched to 
 Shaws-Castle with the agreeable intelligence which fired 
 the train of hope that led to Mowbray's appropriation of 
 his sister's capital. He did not, however, think proper 
 to obey the summons to the Spring ; for, not being aware 
 in what light the Earl might regard the worthies there 
 assembled, he did not desire to be found by his lordship 
 in any strict connexion with them. 
 
 Sir Bingo Binks was in a different situation. The 
 bravery with which he had endured the censure of the 
 place began to give way, when he considered that a per- 
 son of such distinction as that which public opinion at- 
 tached to Lord Etherington, should find him bodily indeed 
 at St. Ronan's, but, so far as society was concerned, on 
 the road towards the ancient city of Coventry ; and his 
 banishment thither, incurred by that most unpardonable 
 offence in modern morality, a solecism in the code of 
 honour. Though sluggish and inert when called to 
 action, the Baronet was by no means an absolute coward ; 
 or, if so, he was of that class which fights when reduced
 
 184 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 
 
 to extremity. He manfully sent for Captain MacTurk, 
 who waited upon him with a grave solemnity of aspect, 
 which instantly was exchanged for a radiant joy, when 
 Sir Bingo, in few words, empowered him to carry a mes- 
 sage to that d — d strolling artist, hy whom he had been 
 insulted three days since. 
 
 " By Cot," said the Captain, " my exceedingly goot 
 and excellent friend, and I am happy to do such a favour 
 for you ! and it's well you have thought of it yourself ; 
 because, if it had not been for some of our very goot and 
 excellent friends, that would be putting their spoon into 
 other folk's dish, I should have been asking you a civil 
 question myself, how you came to dine with us, with all 
 that mud and mire which Mr. Tyrrel's grasp has left upon 
 the collar of your coat — you understand me. — But it is 
 much better as it is, and I will go to the man with all the 
 speed of light ; and though, to be sure, it should have 
 been sooner thought of, yet let me alone to make an ex- 
 cuse for that, just in my own civil way — better late thrive 
 than never do well, you know, Sir Bingo ; and if you 
 have made him wait a little while for his morning, you 
 must give him the better measure, my darling." 
 
 So saying, he awaited no reply, lest peradventure the 
 commission with which he was so hastily and unexpect- 
 edly charged, should have been clogged with some con- 
 dition of compromise. No such proposal, however, was 
 made on the part of the doughty Sir Bingo, who eyed his 
 friend as he hastily snatched up his ratan to depart, with 
 a dogged look of obstinacy, expressive, to use his own 
 phrase, of a determined resolution to come up to the 
 scratch ; and when he heard the Captain's parting foot- 
 steps, and saw the door shut behind him, he valiantly 
 whistled a few bars of Jenny Sutton, in token he cared 
 not a farthing how the matter was to end.
 
 ST. EONAKS WELL. 185 
 
 With a swifter pace than his half-pay leisure usually 
 encouraged, or than his habitual dignity permitted, Cap- 
 tain MacTurk cleared the ground betwixt the Spring and 
 its gay vicinity, and the ruins of the Aultoun, where 
 reigned our Mend Meg Dods, the sole assertor of its an- 
 cient dignities. To the door of the Cleikum Inn the 
 Captain addressed himself, as one too much accustomed 
 to war to fear a rough reception ; although at the very 
 first aspect of Meg, who presented her person at the half- 
 opened door, his military experience taught him that his 
 entrance into the place would, in all probability, be dis- 
 puted. 
 
 " Is Mr. Tyrrel at home ? " was the question ; and the 
 answer was conveyed by the counter-interrogation, " Wha 
 may ye be that speers ? " 
 
 As the most polite reply to this question, and an indul- 
 gence, at the same time, of his own taciturn disposition, 
 the Captain presented to Luckie Dods the fifth part of an 
 ordinary playing card, much grimed with snuff, which 
 bore on its blank side his name and quality. But Luckie 
 Dods rejected the information thus tendered, with con- 
 temptuous scorn. 
 
 " Xane of your deil's play-books for me," said she ; 
 " it's an ill world since sic prick-my-dainty doings came in 
 fashion — It's a poor tongue that canna tell its ain name, 
 and I'll hae nane of your scarts upon pasteboard." 
 
 " I am Captain MacTurk, of the regiment," said 
 
 the Captain, disdaining farther answer. 
 
 " MacTurk ? " repeated Meg, with an emphasis, which 
 induced the owner of the name to reply, " Yes, honest 
 woman — MacTurk — Hector MacTurk — have you any 
 objections to my name, good wife ? " 
 
 " Nae objections have I," answered Meg ; " it's e'en an
 
 186 AVAVERLEY NOVELS. 
 
 excellent name for a heathen. — But, Captain Mac-Turk, 
 since sae it be that ye are a captain, ye may e'en face 
 about and march your ways hame again, to the tune of 
 Dumbarton drums ; for ye are ganging to have nae 
 speech of Maister Tirl, or ony lodger of mine." 
 
 " And wherefore not ? " demanded the veteran ; " and 
 is this of your own foolish head, honest woman, or has 
 your lodger left such orders ! " 
 
 tk Maybe he has and maybe no," answered Meg, stur- 
 dily ; " and I ken nae mair right that ye suld ca' me hon- 
 est woman, than I have to ca' you honest man, whilk is 
 as far frae my thoughts as it wad be from heaven's 
 truth." 
 
 " The woman is deleerit ! " said Captain MacTurk ; 
 " but coom, coom — a gentleman is not to be misused in 
 this way when he comes on a gentleman's business ; so 
 make you a bit room on the doorstane, that I may pass 
 by you, or I will make room for myself, by Cot, to your 
 small pleasure." 
 
 And so saying, he assumed the air of a man who was 
 about to make good his passage. But Meg, without 
 deigning farther reply, flourished around her head the 
 hearth-broom, which she had been employing to its more 
 legitimate purpose, when disturbed in her housewifery by 
 Captain MacTurk. 
 
 " I ken your errand weel eneugh, Captain — and I ken 
 yersell. Ye are ane of the folk that gang about yonder 
 setting folks by the lugs, as callants set their collies to 
 fight. But ye sail come to nae lodger o' mine, let a-be 
 Maister Tirl, wi' ony sic ungodly errand ; for I am ane 
 that will keep God's peace and the King's within my 
 dwelling." 
 
 So saying, and in explicit token of her peaceable in- 
 tentions, she again flourished her broom.
 
 ST. ronan's well. 187 
 
 The veteran instinctively threw himself under Saint 
 George's guard, and drew two paces back, exclaiming, 
 " That the woman was either mad, or as drunk as whisky 
 could make her ; " an alternative which afforded Meg so 
 little satisfaction, that she fairly rushed on her retiring 
 adversary, and began to use her weapon to fell purpose. 
 
 " Me drunk, ye scandalous blackguard!" (a blow with 
 the broom interposed as parenthesis,) " me, that am fast- 
 ing from all but sin and bohea ! " (another whack.) 
 
 The Captain, swearing, exclaiming, and parrying, 
 caught the blows as they fell, showing much dexterity in 
 single stick. The people began to gather ; and how long 
 his gallantry might have maintained itself against the 
 spirit of self-defence and revenge, must be left uncertain, 
 for the arrival of Tyrrel, returned from a short walk, put 
 a period to the contest. 
 
 Meg, who had a great respect for her guest, began to 
 feel ashamed of her own violence, and slunk into the 
 house ; observing, however, that she trewed she had 
 made her hearth-broom and the auld heathen's pow right 
 weel acquainted. The tranquillity which ensued upon 
 her departure, gave Tyrrel an opportunity to ask the 
 Captain, whom he at length recognized, the meaning of 
 this singular affray, and whether the visit was intended 
 for him ; to which the veteran replied, very discomposed- 
 ly, that " he should have known that long enough ago, if 
 he had had decent people to open his door, and answer a 
 civil question, instead of a flyting madwoman, who was 
 worse than an eagle," he said, " or a mastiff-bitch, or a 
 she-bear, or any other female beast in the creation." 
 
 Half suspecting his errand, and desirous to avoid un- 
 necessary notoriety, Tyrrel, as he showed the Captain to 
 the parlour, which he called his own. entreated him to
 
 188 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 
 
 excuse the rudeness of his landlady, and to pass from the 
 topic to that which had procured him the honour of this 
 visit. 
 
 " And you are right, my good Master Tyrrel," said the 
 Captain, pulling down the sleeves of his coat, adjusting 
 his handkerchief and breast-ruffle, and endeavouring to 
 recover the composure of manner becoming his mission, 
 but still adverting indignantly to the usage he had re- 
 ceived — " By , if she had but been a man, if it were 
 
 the King himself — However, Mr. Tyrrel, I am come on 
 a civil errand — and very civilly I have been treated — the 
 auld bitch should be set in the stocks, and be tamned ! — 
 
 My friend, Sir Bingo — By , I shall never forget 
 
 that woman's insolence — if there be a constable or a cat- 
 o'-nine-tails within ten miles " 
 
 " I perceive, Captain," said Tyrrel, " that you are too 
 much disturbed at this moment to enter upon the busi- 
 ness which has brought you here — if you will step into 
 my bedroom, and make use of some cold water and a 
 towel, it will give you the time to compose yourself a 
 little." 
 
 " I shall do no such thing, Mr. Tyrrel," answered the 
 Captain, snappishly ; " I do not want to be composed at 
 all, and I do not want to stay in this house a minute 
 longer than to do my errand to you on my friend's be- 
 half — And as for this tamned woman, Dods " 
 
 "You will in that case forgive my interrupting you, 
 Captain MacTurk, as I presume your errand to me can 
 have no reference to this strange quarrel with my land- 
 lady, with which I have nothing to" — 
 
 " And if I thought that it had, sir," said the Captain, 
 interrupting Tyrrel in his turn, " you should have given 
 me satisfaction before you was a quarter of an hour older
 
 ST. ronan's well. 189 
 
 — Oh, I would give five pounds to the pretty fellow that 
 would say, Captain MacTurk, the woman did right ! " 
 
 " I certainly will not be that person you wish for, Cap- 
 tain, replied Tyrrel, " because I really do not know who 
 was in the right or wrong ; but I am certainly sorry that 
 you should have met with ill usage, when your purpose 
 was to visit me." 
 
 " Well, sir, if you are concerned," said the man of 
 peace, snappishly, " so am I, and there is an end of it. — 
 And touching my errand to you — you cannot have for- 
 gotten that you treated my friend, Sir Bingo Binks, with 
 singular incivility ? " 
 
 " I recollect nothing of the kind, Captain," replied 
 Tyrrel. " I remember that the gentleman, so called, 
 took some uncivil liberties in laying foolish bets concern- 
 ing me, and that I treated him, from respect to the rest, 
 of the company, and the ladies in particular, with a great 
 degree of moderation and forbearance." 
 
 " And you must have very fine ideas of forbearance," 
 replied the Captain, " when you took my good friend by 
 the collar of the coat, and lifted him out of your way as 
 if he had been a puppy dog! My good Mr. Tyrrel, I 
 can assure you he does not think that you have forborne 
 him at all, and he has no purpose to forbear you ; and I 
 must either carry back a sufficient apology, or you must 
 meet in a quiet way, with a good friend on each side. — 
 And this was the errand I came on, when this tamned 
 woman, with the hearth-broom, who is an enemy to all 
 quiet and peaceable proceedings" 
 
 " We will forget Mrs. Dods for the present, if you 
 please, Captain MacTurk," said Tyrrel — "and, to speak 
 to the present subject, you will permit me to say, that I 
 think this summons comes a little of the latest. You
 
 190 W.VVERLEY NOVELS. 
 
 know best as a military man, but I bave always under- 
 stood that such differences are usually settled immedi- 
 ately after tbey occur — not that I intend to baulk. Sir 
 Bingo's inclinations upon tbe score of delay, or any 
 other account." 
 
 " I dare say you will not — I dare say you will not, Mr. 
 Tyrrel," answered the Captain — " I am free to think that 
 you know better what belongs to a gentleman. — And as 
 to time — look you, my good sir, there are different sorts 
 of people in this world, as there are different sorts of 
 fire-arms. There are your hair-triggered rifles, that go 
 off" just at the right moment, and in the twinkling of an 
 eye, and that, Mr. Tyrrel, is your true man of honour ; 
 — and there is a sort of person that takes a thing up too 
 soon, and sometimes backs out of it, like your rubbishy 
 Birmingham pieces, that will at one time go off at half- 
 cock, and at another time burn priming without going off" 
 at all ; — then again there are pieces that hang fire — or I 
 should rather say, that are like the matchlocks which the 
 black fellows use in the East Indies — there must be 
 some blowing, of the match, and so forth, which occa- 
 sions delay, but the piece carries true enough after 
 all." 
 
 " And your friend Sir Bingo's valour is of this last 
 kind, Captain — I presume that is the inference. I should 
 have thought it more like a boy's cannon, which is fired 
 by means of a train, and is but a pop-gun after all." 
 
 " I cannot allow of such comparisons, sir," said the 
 Captain ; " you will understand that I come here as Sir 
 Bingo's friend, and a reflection on him will be an affront 
 to me." 
 
 " I disclaim all intended offence to you, Captain — I 
 have no wish to extend the number of my adversaries,
 
 ST. ronan's well. 191 
 
 or to add to them the name of a gallant officer like your- 
 self," replied Tyrrel. 
 
 " You are too obliging, sir," said the Captain, drawing 
 
 himself up with dignity. "By , and that was said 
 
 very handsomely ! — Well, sir, and shall I not have the 
 pleasure of carrying back any explanation from you to 
 Sir Bingo ? — I assure you it would give me pleasure to 
 make this matter handsomely up." 
 
 " To Sir Bingo, Captain MacTurk, I have no apology 
 to offer — I think I treated him more gently than his 
 impertinence deserved." 
 
 " Och, och ! " sighed the Captain, with a strong High- 
 land intonation ; " then there is no more to be said, but 
 just to settle time and place ; for pistols, I suppose, must 
 be the weapons." 
 
 "All these matters are quite the same to me," said 
 Tyrrel ; " only, in respect of time, I should wish it to be 
 as speedy as possible — What say you to one, afternoon, 
 this very day ? — You may name the place." 
 
 " At one, afternoon," replied the Captain, deliberately, 
 " Sir Bingo will attend you — the place may be the Buck- 
 stane ; for as the whole company go to the water-side 
 to-day to eat a kettle of fish* there will be no risk of 
 
 * A kettle of fish is a, fete champelre of a particular kind, which is 
 to other fete champetres what the piscatory eclogues of Brown or San- 
 nazario are to pastoral poetry. A large caldron is boiled by the side 
 of a salmon river, containing a quantity of water, thickened with 
 salt to the consistence of brine. In this the fish is plunged when 
 taken, and eaten by the company fronde super viridi. This is ac- 
 counted the best way of eating salmon, by those who desire to taste 
 the fish in a state of extreme freshness. Others prefer it after being 
 kept a day or two, when the curd melts into oil, and the fish becomes 
 richer and more luscious. The more judicious gastronomes eat no 
 Other sauce than a spoonful of the water in which the salmon is 
 boiled, together with a little pepper and vinegar.
 
 192 "WAVERLEY NOVELS. 
 
 interruption. — And whom shall I speak to, my good 
 friend, on your side of the quarrel ? " 
 
 " Really, Captain," replied Tyrrel, " that is a puzzling 
 question — I have no friend here — I suppose you could 
 hardly act for both ? " 
 
 " It would be totally, absolutely, and altogether out of 
 the question, my good friend," replied MacTurk. " But 
 if you will trust to me, I will bring up a friend on your 
 part from the Well, who, though you have hardly seen 
 him before, will settle matters for you as well as if you 
 had been intimate for twenty years — and I will bring up 
 the Doctor, too, if I can get him unloosed from the petti- 
 coat of that fat widow Blower, that he has strung him- 
 self upon." 
 
 " I have no doubt you will do every thing with perfect 
 accuracy, Captain. At one o'clock, then, we meet at the 
 Buck-stane — Stay, permit me to see you to the door." 
 
 " By , and it is not altogether so unnecessary," 
 
 said the Captain ; " for the tamned woman with the 
 besom might have some advantage in that long dark pas- 
 sage, knowing the ground better than I do — tamn her, I 
 will have amends on her, if there be whipping-post, or 
 ducking-stool, or a pair of stocks in the parish ! " And 
 so saying, the Captain trudged off, his spirits ever and 
 anon agitated by recollection of the causeless aggression 
 of Meg Dods, and again composed to a state of happy 
 serenity by the recollection of the agreeable arrangement 
 which he had made between Mr. Tyrrel and his friend 
 Sir Bingo Binks. 
 
 We have heard of men of undoubted benevolence of 
 character and disposition, whose principal delight was to 
 see a miserable criminal, degraded alike by his previous 
 crimes, and the sentence which he had incurred, conclude
 
 ST. ronan's well. 193 
 
 a vicious and wretched life, by an ignominious and pain- 
 ful death. It was some such inconsistency of character 
 which induced honest Captain MacTurk, who had really 
 been a meritorious officer, and was a good-natured, hon- 
 ourable, and well-intentioned man, to place his chief 
 delight in setting his friends by the ears, and then acting 
 as umpire in the dangerous rencontres, which, according 
 to his code of honour, were absolutely necessaxw to re- 
 store peace and cordiality. "We leave the explanation of 
 such anomalies to the labours of craniologists, for they 
 seem to defy all the researches of the Ethic philosopher. 
 
 VOL. XXXIII. 13
 
 194 WAVEKLEY NOVELS. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 DISAPPOINTMENT. 
 
 Evans. I pray you now, good Master Slender's serving-man, and friend 
 
 Simple by your name, which way have you looked for .Master Caius? 
 
 Slender.— Marry, Sir, the City-ward, the Park-ward, every way; Old Windsor 
 way, and every way. 
 
 Merry Wives of Windsor. 
 
 Sir Bingo Binks received the Captain's communi- 
 cation with the same dogged sullenness he had displayed 
 at sending the challenge; a most ungracious humph, as- 
 cending, as it were, from the very bottom of his stomach, 
 through the folds of a Belcher handkerchief, intimating 
 his acquiescence, in a tone nearly as gracious as that with 
 which the drowsy traveller acknowledges the intima- 
 tion of the slip-shod ostler, that it is on the stroke of five, 
 and the horn will sound in a minute. Captain MacTurk 
 by no means considered this ejaculation as expressing 
 a proper estimate of his own trouble and services. 
 " Humph ! " he replied ; " and what does that mean, Sir 
 Bingo ? Have not I here had the trouble to put you just 
 into the neat road ; and would you have been able to 
 make a handsome affair out of it at all, after you had let 
 it hang so long in the wind, if I had not taken on myself 
 to make it agreeable to the gentleman, and cooked as 
 neat a mess out of it as I have seen a Frenchman do out 
 of a stale sprat ? "
 
 ST. ronan's well. 195 
 
 Sir Bingo saw it was necessary to mutter some inti- 
 mation of acquiescence and acknowledgment, which, how- 
 ever inarticulate, was sufficient to satisfy the veteran to 
 whom the adjustment of a personal affair of this kind was 
 a labour of love, and who now, kindly mindful of his 
 promise to Tyrrel, hurried away as if he had been about 
 the most charitable action upon earth, to secure the 
 attendance of some one as a witness on the stranger's 
 part. 
 
 Mr. Winterblossom was the person whom MacTurk 
 had in his own mind pitched upon as the fittest person to 
 perform this act of benevolence and he lost no time in 
 communicating his wish to that worthy gentleman. But 
 Mr. Winterblossom, though a man of the world, and well 
 enough acquainted with such matters, was by no means 
 so passionately addicted to them as was the man of 
 peace, Captain Hector MacTurk. As a bon vivant, he 
 hated trouble of any kind, and the shrewd selfishness of 
 his disposition enabled him to foresee, that a good deal 
 mio-ht accrue to all concerned in the course of this busi- 
 ness. He, therefore, coolly replied, that he knew nothing 
 of Mr. Tyrrel — not even whether he was a gentleman or 
 not ; and besides, he had received no regular application 
 in his behalf — he did not, therefore, feel himself at all 
 inclined to go to the field as his second. This refusal 
 drove the poor Captain to despair. He conjured his 
 friend to be more public-spirited, and entreated him to 
 consider the reputation of the Well, which was to them 
 as a common country, and the honour of the company to 
 which they both belonged, and of which Mr. Winter- 
 blossom was in a manner the proper representative, as 
 being, with consent of all, the perpetual president. He 
 reminded him how many quarrels had been nightly
 
 196 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 
 
 undertaken and departed from on the ensuing morning, 
 without any suitable consequences — said, " that people 
 began to talk of the place oddly ; and that, for his own 
 part, he found his own honour so nearly touched, that he 
 had begun to think he himself would be obliged to bring 
 somebody or other to account for the general credit of 
 the Well ; and now, just when the most beautiful occasion 
 had arisen to put every thing on a handsome footing, it 
 was bard — it was cruel — it was most unjustifiable — in 
 Mr. Winterblossom, to decline so simple a matter as was 
 requested of him." 
 
 Dry and taciturn as the Captain was on all ordinary 
 occasions, he proved, on the present, eloquent and almost 
 pathetic ; for the tears came into his eyes when he re- 
 counted the various quarrels which had become addled, 
 notwithstanding his best endeavours to hatch them into 
 an honourable meeting ; and here was one, at length, 
 just chipping the shell, like to be smothered for want of 
 the most ordinary concession on the part of Winter- 
 blossom. In short, that gentleman could not hold out 
 any longer. " It was," he said, " a very foolish business, 
 he thought ; but to oblige Sir Bingo and Captain Mac- 
 Turk, he had no objection to walk with them about noon 
 as far as the Buck-stane, although he must observe the 
 day was hazy, and he had felt a prophetic twinge or two 
 which looked like a visit of his old acquaintance podagra." 
 
 " Never mind that, my excellent friend," said the Cap- 
 tain, " a sup out of Sir Bingo's flask is like enough to put 
 that to rights ; and by my soul, it is not the thing he is 
 like to leave behind him on this sort of occasion, unless I 
 be far mistaken in my man." 
 
 " But," said Winterblossom, " although I comply with 
 your wishes thus far, Captain MacTurk, I by no means
 
 ST. ronan's avell. 197 
 
 undertake for certain to back this same Master Tyrrel, 
 of whom I know nothing at all, but only agree to go to 
 the place in hopes of preventing mischief." 
 
 " Never fash your beard about that, Mr. Winter- 
 blossom," replied the Captain ; " for a little mischief, as 
 you call it, is become a thing absolutely necessary to the 
 credit of the place ; and I am sure, whatever be the 
 consequences, they cannot in the present instance be 
 very fatal to anybody ; for here is a young fellow that, 
 if he should have a misfortune, nobody will miss, for 
 nobody knows him; then there is Sir Bingo, whom 
 everybody knows so well, that they will miss him all the 
 less." 
 
 " And there will be Lady Bingo, a wealthy and hand- 
 some young widow," said Winterblossom, throwing his 
 hat upon his head with the grace and pretension of 
 former days, and sighing to see, as he looked in the 
 mirror, how much time, that had whitened his hair, 
 rounded his stomach, wrinkled his brow, and bent down 
 his shoulders, had disqualified him, as he expressed it, 
 " for entering for such a plate." 
 
 Secure of Winterblossom, the Captain's next anxiety 
 was to obtain the presence of Dr. Quackleben, who, 
 although he wrote himself M. D., did not by any means 
 decline practice as a surgeon when any job offered for 
 which he was likely to be well paid, as was warranted in 
 the present instance, the wealthy Baronet being a party 
 principally concerned. The Doctor, therefore, like the 
 eagle scenting the carnage, seized, at the first word, the 
 hu"-e volume of morocco leather which formed his case 
 of portable instruments, and uncoiled before the Captain, 
 with ostentatious display, its formidable and glittering 
 contents, upon which he began to lecture as upon a
 
 198 WAVERLET NOVELS. 
 
 copious and interesting text, until the man of war thought 
 it necessary to give him a word of caution. 
 
 " Och," says he, " I do pray you, Doctor, to carry that 
 packet of yours under the breast of your coat, or in your 
 pocket, or somewhere out of sight, and by no means to 
 produce or open it before the parties. For although 
 scalpels, and tourniquets, and pincers, and the like, are 
 very ingenious implements, and pretty to behold, and are 
 also useful when time and occasion call for them, yet I 
 have known the sight of them take away a man's fighting 
 stomach, and so lose their owner a job, Dr. Quackleben." 
 
 " By my faith, Captain MacTurk," said the Doctor, 
 " you speak as if you were graduated ! — I have known 
 these treacherous articles play their master many a cursed 
 trick. The very sight of my forceps, without the least 
 effort on my part, once cured an inveterate toothach of 
 three days' duration, prevented the extraction of a carious 
 molendinar, which it was the very end of their formation 
 to achieve, and sent me home minus a guinea. — But 
 hand me that great-coat, Captain, and we will place the 
 instruments in ambuscade, until they are called into 
 action in due time. I should think something will happen 
 — Sir Biniro is a sure shot at a moor-cock." 
 
 " Cannot say," replied MacTurk ; " I have known the 
 pistol shake many a hand that held the fowling-piece fast 
 enough. Yonder Tyrrel looks like a teevilish cool 
 customer — I watched him the whole time I was deliver- 
 ing my errand, and I can promise you he is mettle to the 
 back-bone." 
 
 " Well — I will have my bandages ready secundum 
 artem," replied the man of medicine. " We must guard 
 against hasmorrhage — Sir Bingo is a plethoric subject. — 
 One o'clock, you say — at the Buck-stane— T will be 
 punctual."
 
 ST. roxan's well. 199 
 
 " Will you not walk with us ? " said Captain Mac- 
 Turk, who seemed willing to keep his whole convoy- 
 together on this occasion, lest, peradventure, any of them 
 had fled from under his patronage. 
 
 " No," replied the Doctor, " I must first make an 
 apology to worthy Mrs. Blower, for I had promised her 
 my arm down to the river-side, where they are all to eat 
 a kettle of fish." 
 
 " By Cot, and I hope we shall make them a prettier 
 kettle of fish than was ever seen at St. Ronan's," said the 
 Captain, rubbing his hands. 
 
 " Don't say we, Captain," replied the cautious Doctor ; 
 " I for one have nothing to do with the meeting — wash 
 my hands of it. No, no, I cannot afford to be clapt up 
 as accessory. — You ask me to meet you at the Buck- 
 stane — no purpose assigned — I am willing to oblige my 
 worthy friend, Captain MacTurk — walk that way, think- 
 ing of nothing particular — hear the report of pistols — 
 hasten to the spot — fortunately just in time to prevent 
 the most fatal consequences — chance most opportunely to 
 have my case of instruments with me, indeed, generally 
 walk with them about me — nunquam non paratus — then 
 give my professional definition of the wound and state 
 of the patient. That is the way to give evidence, Cap- 
 tain, before sheriffs, coroners, and such sort of folks — 
 never commit one's self — it is a rule of our profession." 
 
 " Well, well, Doctor," answered the Captain, " you 
 know your own ways best ; and so you are but there to 
 give a chance of help in case of accident, all the laws of 
 honour will be fully complied with. But it would be a 
 foul reflection upon me, as a man of honour, if I did not 
 take care that there should be somebody to come in 
 thirdsman between Death and my principal."
 
 200 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 
 
 At the awful hour of one, afternoon, there arrived 
 upon the appointed spot Captain MacTurk, leading to 
 the field the valorous Sir Bingo, not exactly straining 
 like a greyhound in the slips, hut rather looking moody 
 like a butcher's bull-dog, which knows he must fight since 
 his master bids him. Yet the Baronet showed no out- 
 ward flinching or abatement of courage, excepting that 
 the tune of Jenny Sutton, which he had whistled without 
 intermission since he left the Hotel, had, during the last 
 half mile of their walk, sunk into silence ; although, to 
 look at the muscles of the mouth, projection of the lip, 
 and vacancy of the eye, it seemed as if the notes were 
 still passing through his mind, and that he whistled 
 Jenny Sutton in his imagination. Mr. Winterblossom 
 came two minutes after this happy pair, and the Doctor 
 was equally punctual. 
 
 " Upon my soul," said the former, " this is a mighty 
 silly affair, Sir Bingo, and might, I think, be easily taken 
 up, at less risk to all parties than a meeting of this kind. 
 You should recollect, Sir Bingo, that you have much 
 depending on your life — you are a married man, Sir 
 Bingo." 
 
 Sir Bingo turned the quid in his mouth, and squirted 
 out the juice in a most coachman-like manner. 
 
 " Mr. "Winterblossom," said the Captain, " Sir Bingo 
 has in this matter put himself in my hands, and unless 
 you think yourself more able to direct his course than I 
 am, I must frankly tell you, that I will be disobliged by 
 your interference. You may speak to your own friend 
 as much you please ; and if you find yourself authorized 
 to make any proposal, I shall be desirous to lend an ear 
 to it on the part of my worthy principal, Sir Bingo. But 
 I will be plain with you, that I do not greatly approve
 
 ST. ronan's well. 201 
 
 of settlements upon the field, though I hope I am a quiet 
 and peaceable man ; yet here is our honour to be looked 
 after in the first place ; and moreover, I must insist that 
 every proposal for accommodation shall originate with 
 your party or yourself." 
 
 "My party ? " answered Winterblossom ; " why really, 
 though I came hither at your request, Captain MacTurk, 
 yet I must see more of the matter, ere I can fairly pro- 
 nounce myself second to a man I never saw but once." 
 
 " And, perhaps, may never see again," said the Doctor, 
 looking at his watch ; " for it is ten minutes past the 
 hour, and here is no Mr. Tyrrel." 
 
 " Hey ! what's that you say, Doctor ? " said the Bar- 
 onet, awakened from his apathy. 
 
 " He speaks tamned nonsense," said the Captain, pull- 
 ing out a huge, old-fashioned, turnip-shaped implement, 
 with a blackened silver dial-plate. " It is not above 
 three minutes after one by the true time, and I will up- 
 hold Mr. Tyrrel to be a man of his word — never saw a 
 man take a thing more coolly." 
 
 " Not more coolly than he takes his walk this way," 
 said the Doctor ; " for the hour is as I tell you — remem- 
 ber, I am professional — have pulses to count by the 
 second and half-second — my timepiece must go as true as 
 the sun." 
 
 " And I have mounted guard a thousand times by my 
 watch," said the Captain ; " and I defy the devil to say 
 that Hector MacTurk did not always discharge his duty 
 to the twentieth part of the fraction of a second — it was 
 my great grandmother, Lady Killbracklin's, and I will 
 maintain its reputation against any timepiece that ever 
 went upon wheel-." 
 
 " Well then, look at your own watch, Captain," said
 
 202 WAVEBLEY NOVELS. 
 
 Winterblossora, "for time stands still with no man, and 
 while we speak (he hour advances. On my word, I think 
 this Mr. Tyrrel intends to humbug us." 
 
 " Hey ! what's that you say ? " said Sir Bingo, once 
 more starting from his sullen reverie. 
 
 " I shall not look at my watch upon no such matter," 
 said the Captain ; " nor will I any way be disposed to 
 doubt your friend's honour, Mr. Winterblossom." 
 
 "My friend ? " said Mr. Winterblossom ; " I must tell 
 you once more, Captain, that this Mr. Tyrrel is no friend 
 of mine — none in the world. He is your friend, Captain 
 MacTurk ; and I own, if he keeps us waiting much 
 longer on this occasion, I will be apt to consider his 
 friendship as of very little value." 
 
 " And how dare you then say that the man is my 
 friend ? " said the Captain, knitting his brows in a most 
 formidable manner. 
 
 " Pooh ! pooh ! Captain," answered Winterblossom, 
 coolly, if not contemptuously — " keep all that for silly 
 boys ; I have lived in the world too long either to pro- 
 voke quarrels, or to care about them. So, reserve your 
 fire ; it is all thrown away on such an old cock as I am. 
 But I really wish we knew whether this fellow means to 
 come — twenty minutes past the hour — I think it is odds 
 that you are bilked, Sir Bingo ? " 
 
 " Bilked ! hey ! " cried Sir Bingo ; " by Gad, I always 
 thought so — I wagered with Mowbray he was a raff — I 
 am had, by Gad. I'll wait no longer than the half hour, 
 by Gad, were he a field-marshal." 
 
 " You will be directed in that matter by your friend, if 
 you please, Sir Bingo," said the Captain. 
 
 " D — n me if I will," returned the Baronet — " Friend? 
 a pretty friend, to bring me out here on such a fool's
 
 st. ronan's avell. 203 
 
 errand ! I knew the fellow was a raff — but I never 
 thought you, with all your chaff about honour, such a 
 (J — d spoon as to bring a message from a fellow who has 
 fled the pit ! " 
 
 " If you regret so much having come here to no pur- 
 pose," said the Captain, in a very lofty tone, " and if you 
 think I have used you like a spoon, as you say, I will 
 have no objection in life to take Mr. Tyrrel's place, and 
 serve your occasion, my boy ! " 
 
 " By ! and if you like it, you may fire away, and 
 
 welcome," said Sir Bingo ; " and I'll spin a crown for 
 first shot, for I do not understand being brought here for 
 nothing, d — n me ! " 
 
 "And there was never man alive so ready as I am to 
 give you something to stay your stomach," said the irri- 
 table Highlander. 
 
 u Oh fie, gentlemen ! fie, fie, fie ! " exclaimed the 
 pacific Mr. Winterblossom — " For shame, Captain — Out 
 upon you, Sir Bingo, are you mad? — what, principal and 
 second ? — the like was never heard of — never." 
 
 The parties were in some degree recalled to their more 
 cool recollections by this expostulation, yet continued a 
 short quarter-deck walk to and fro, upon parallel lines, 
 looking at each other sullenly as they passed, and brist- 
 ling like two dogs who have a mind to quarrel, yet hesi- 
 tate to commence hostilities. During this promenade, 
 also, the perpendicular and erect carriage of the veteran, 
 rising on his toes at every step, formed a whimsical con- 
 trast with the heavy loutish shuffle of the bulky Baronet, 
 who had, by dint of practice, very nearly attained that 
 most enviable of all carriages, the gait of a shambling 
 Yorkshire ostler. His coarse spirit was now thoroughly 
 kindled, and like iron, or any other baser metal, which is
 
 204 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 
 
 slow in receiving heat, it retained long the smouldering 
 and angry spirit of resentment that had originally brought 
 him to the place, and now rendered him willing to wreak 
 his uncomfortable feelings upon the nearest object which 
 occurred, since the first purpose of his coming thither 
 was frustrated. In his own phrase his pluck was up, and 
 finding himself in a fighting humour, he thought it a pity, 
 like Bob Acres, that so much good courage should be 
 thrown away. As, however, that courage after all con- 
 sisted chiefly in ill humour ; and as, in the demeanour of 
 the Captain, he read nothing deferential or deprecatory 
 of his wrath, he began to listen with more attention to 
 the arguments of Mr. Winterblossom, who entreated 
 them not to sully, by private quarrel, the honour they 
 had that day so happily acquired without either blood 
 or risk. 
 
 " It was now," he said, " three quarters of an hour past 
 the time appointed for this person, who calls himself 
 Tyrrel, to meet Sir Bingo Binks. Now, instead of stand- 
 ing squabbling here, which serves no purpose, I propose 
 we should reduce to writing the circumstances which at- 
 tend this affair for the satisfaction of the company at the 
 "Well, and that the memorandum shall be regularly attest- 
 ed by our subscriptions ; after which, I shall farther 
 humbly propose that it be subjected to the revision of 
 the Committee of Management." 
 
 " I object to any revision of a statement to which my 
 name shall be appended," said the Captain. 
 
 " Right — very true, Captain," said the complaisant 
 Mr. Winterblossom; "undoubtedly you know best, and 
 your signature is completely sufficient to authenticate 
 this transaction — however, as it is the most important 
 which has occurred since the Spring was established, I
 
 ST. RONAX'S WELL. 205 
 
 propose we shall all sign the proces verbal, as I may term 
 it." 
 
 " Leave me out, if you please," said the Doctor, not 
 much satisfied that both the original quarrel and the by- 
 battle had passed over without any occasion for the offices 
 of a Machaon ; " leave me out, if you please ; for it does 
 not become me to be ostensibly concerned in any proceed- 
 ings, which have had for their object a breach of the 
 peace. And for the importance of waiting here for an 
 hour, in a fine afternoon, it is my opinion there was a 
 more important service done to the Well of St. Ronan's, 
 when I, Quentin Quackleben, M. D., cured Lady Penel- 
 ope Penfeather of her seventh attack upon the nerves, 
 attended with febrile symptoms." 
 
 " No disparagement to your skill at all, Doctor," said 
 Mr. Winterblossom ; " but I conceive the lesson which this 
 fellow has received will be a great means to prevent im- 
 proper persons from appearing at the Spring hereafter ; 
 and, for my part, I shall move that no one be invited to 
 dine at the table in future, till his name is regularly en- 
 tered as a member of the company, in the lists at the 
 public room. And I hope both Sir Bingo and the Cap- 
 tain will receive the thanks of the company, for their 
 spirited conduct in expelling the intruder. — Sir Bingo, 
 will you allow me to apply to your flask — a little twinge 
 I feel, owing to the dampness of the grass." 
 
 Sir Bingo, soothed by the consequence he had acquired, 
 readily imparted to the invalid a thimbleful of his cordial, 
 which, we believe, had been prepared by some cunning 
 chemist in the wilds of Glenlivat. He then filled a bum- 
 per, and extended it towards the veteran, as an unequiv- 
 ocal symptom of reconciliation. The real turbinacious 
 flavour no sooner reached the nose of the Captain, than
 
 206 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 
 
 the beverage was turned down his throat with symptoms 
 of most unequivocal applause. "I shall have some hope 
 of the young fellows of this day," he said, " now that they 
 begin to give up their Duteh and French distilled waters, 
 and stick to genuine Highland ware. By Cot, it is the 
 only liquor fit for a gentleman to drink in a morning, if 
 he can have the good fortune to come by it, you see." 
 
 " Or after dinner either, Captain," said the Doctor, to 
 whom the glass had passed in rotation ; " it is worth all 
 the wines in France for flavour, and more cordial to the 
 system besides." 
 
 " And now," said the Captain, " that w r e may not go 
 off" the ground with any thing on our stomachs worse than 
 the whisky, I can afford to say, (as Captain Hector Mac- 
 Turk's character is tolerably well established,) that I am 
 sorry for the little difference that has occurred betwixt 
 me and my worthy friend, Sir Bingo, here." 
 
 " And since you are so civil, Captain," said Sir Bingo, 
 " why, I am sorry too — only it would put the devil out of 
 temper to lose so fine a fishing day — wind south — fine air 
 on the pool — water settled from the flood — just in trim — ■ 
 and I dare say three pairs of hooks have passed over my 
 cast before this time." 
 
 He closed this elaborate lamentation with a libation of 
 the same cordial which he had imparted to his compan- 
 ions ; and they returned in a body to the Hotel, where 
 the transactions of the morning were soon afterwards an- 
 nounced to the company, by the following programme : — « 
 
 STATEMENT. 
 
 " Sir Bingo Binks, baronet, having found himself ag- 
 grieved by the uncivil behaviour of an individual calling 
 himself Francis Tyrrel, now or lately a resident at the
 
 st. ronan's well. 207 
 
 Cleikum Inn, Aultoun of St. Ronan's : and having em- 
 powered Captain Hector MacTurk to wait upon the said 
 Mr. Tyrrel to demand an apology, under the alternative 
 of personal satisfaction, according to the laws of honour 
 and the practice of gentlemen, the said Tyrrel volun- 
 tarily engaged to meet the said Sir Bingo Binks, baronet, 
 at the Buck-stane, near St. Ronan's Burn, upon this 
 present day, being Wednesday ■ August. In conse- 
 quence of which appointment, we, the undersigned, did 
 attend at the place named, from one o'clock till two, with- 
 out seeing or hearing any thing whatever of the said 
 Francis Tyrrel, or any one in his behalf — which fact we 
 make thus publicly known, that all men, and particularly 
 the distinguished company assembled at the Fox Hotel, 
 may be duly apprized of the character and behaviour of 
 the said Francis Tyrrel, in case of his again presuming to 
 intrude himself into the society of persons of honour. 
 " The Fox Inn and Hotel, St. Ronan's Well — August 
 
 18—. 
 
 (Signed) " Bingo Binks. 
 
 " Hector MacTurk. 
 " Philip Winterblossom." 
 A little lower followed this separate attestation : 
 " I, Quentin Quackleben, M. D., F. R. S., D. E., B. L., 
 X. Z., &c. &c, being called upon to attest what I know in 
 the said matter, do hereby verify, that, being by accident 
 at the Buck-stane, near St. Ronan's Burn, on this present 
 day, at the hour of one afternoon, and chancing to remain 
 there for the space of nearly an hour, conversing with 
 Sir Bingo Binks, Captain MacTurk, and Mr. Winterblos- 
 som, we did not, during that time, see or hear any thing 
 of or from the person calling himself Francis Tyrrel, 
 whose presence at that place seemed to be expected by
 
 208 "WAVEKLEY NOVELS. 
 
 the gentlemen I have just named." This affiche was 
 dated like the former, and certified under the august hand 
 of Quentin Quackleben, M. D., &c. &c. &c. 
 
 Again, and prefaced by the averment that an improper 
 person had been lately introduced into the company of 
 St. Ronan's Well, there came forth a legislative enact- 
 ment, on the part of the Committee, declaring, "that no 
 one shall in future be invited to the dinners, or balls, or 
 other entertainments of the Well, until their names shall 
 be regularly entered in the books kept for the purpose at 
 the rooms." Lastly, there was a vote of thanks to Sir 
 Bingo Binks and Captain MacTurk for their spirited 
 conduct, and the pains which they had taken to exclude 
 an improper person from the company at St. Ronan's 
 Well. 
 
 These annunciations speedily became the magnet of 
 the day. All idlers crowded to peruse them ; and it 
 would be endless to notice the " God bless me's," — the 
 " Lord have a care of us," — the " Saw you ever the 
 like's " of gossips, any more than the " Dear me's " and 
 " Oh, laa's " of the titupping misses, and the oaths of the 
 pantalooned or buckskined beaux. The character of Sir 
 Bingo rose like the stocks at the news of a despatch from 
 the Duke of Wellington, and, what was extraordinary, 
 attained some consequence even in the estimation of his 
 lady. All shook their heads at the recollection of the 
 unlucky Tyrrel, and found out much in his manner and 
 address which convinced them that he was but an adven- 
 turer and swindler. A few, however, less partial to the 
 Committee of Management, (for whenever there is an 
 administration, there will soon arise an opposition,) whis- 
 pered among themselves, that, to give the fellow his due, 
 the man, be he what he would, had only come among
 
 ST. ROXANS WELL. 
 
 209 
 
 them, like the devil, when he was called for — And honest 
 Dame Blower blessed herself when she heard of such 
 bloodthirsty doings as had been intended, and " thanked 
 God that honest Doctor Kickherben had come to nae 
 harm amang a' their nonsense." 
 
 VOL. XXXIII. 
 
 14
 
 210 WAVEULEY NOVELS. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 THE CONSULTATION. 
 
 Clown. — I hope here he proofs. 
 
 Measure for Measure. 
 
 The borough of lies, as all the world knows, 
 
 about fourteen miles distant from St. Ronan's, being the 
 county town of that shire, which, as described in the 
 Tourist's Guide, numbers among its objects of interest, 
 that gay and popular watering-place, whose fame, no 
 doubt, will be greatly enhanced by the present annals of 
 its earlier history. As it is at present unnecessary to be 
 more particular concerning the scene of our story, we will 
 fill up the blank left in the first name with the fictitious 
 appellation of Marchthorn, having often found ourselves 
 embarrassed in the course of a story, by the occurrence 
 of an ugly hiatus, which we cannot always at first sight 
 fill up, with the proper reference to the rest of the nar- 
 rative. 
 
 Marchthorn, then, was an old-fashioned Scottish town, 
 the street of which, on market-day, showed a reasonable 
 number of stout great-coated yeomen, bartering or dealing 
 for the various commodities of their farms ; and on other 
 days of the week, only a few forlorn burghers, crawling 
 about like half-awakened flies, and watching the town 
 steeple till the happy sound of twelve strokes from Time's
 
 ST. ronan's well. 211 
 
 oracle should tell thein it was time to take their meridian 
 dram. The narrow windows of the shops intimated very 
 imperfectly the miscellaneous contents of the interior, 
 where every merchant, as the shopkeepers of Marchthorn 
 were termed, more Scotico, sold every thing that could be 
 thought of. As for manufactures, there were none, ex- 
 cept that of the careful Town-Council, who were mightily 
 busied in preparing the warp and woof, which, at the end 
 of every five or six years, the town of Marchthorn con- 
 tributed, for the purpose of weaving the fourth or fifth 
 part of a member of Parliament. 
 
 In such a town it usually happens that the SherifF-clerk, 
 especially supposing him agent for several lairds of the 
 higher order, is possessed of one of the best-looking 
 houses ; and such was that of Mr. Bindloose. None of 
 the smartness of the brick-built and brass-hammered 
 mansion of a southern attorney appeared indeed in this 
 mansion, which was a tall, thin, grim-looking building, in 
 the centre of the town, with narrow windows and project- 
 ing gables, notched into that sort of descent, called crow- 
 steps, and having the lower casements defended by stan- 
 chions of iron ; for Mr. Bindloose, as frequently happens, 
 kept a branch of one of the two national banks, which 
 had been lately established in the town of Marchthorn. 
 
 Towards the door of this tenement, there advanced 
 slowly up the ancient, but empty streets of this famous 
 borough, a vehicle, which, had it appeared in Piccadilly, 
 would have furnished unremitted laughter for a week, 
 and conversation for a twelvemonth. It was a two- 
 wheeled vehicle, which claimed none of the modern ap- 
 pellations of tilbury, tandem, dennet, or the like ; but 
 aspired only to the humble name of that almost forgotten 
 accommodation, a whiskey ; or, according to some author-
 
 212 W WERLEY NOVELS. 
 
 ities, a tim-whiskey. Green was, or had been, its original 
 colour, and it was placed sturdily and safely low upon its 
 little old-fashioned wheels, which bore much less than the 
 usual proportion to the size of the carriage which they 
 sustained. It had a calash head, which had been pulled 
 up, in consideration either to the dampness of the morn- 
 ing air, or to the retiring delicacy of the fair form which, 
 shrouded by leathern curtains, tenanted this venerable 
 specimen of antediluvian coach-building. 
 
 But, as this fair and modest dame noway aspired to the 
 skill of a charioteer, the management of a horse, which 
 seemed as old as the carriage he drew, was in the exclu- 
 sive charge of an old fellow in a postilion's jacket, whose 
 gray hairs escaped on each side of an old-fashioned velvet 
 jockey-cap, and whose left shoulder was so considerably 
 elevated above his head, that it seemed as if, with little 
 effort his neck might have been tucked under his arm, 
 like that of a roasted grouse-cock. This gallant equerry 
 was mounted on a steed as old as that which toiled be- 
 twixt the shafts of the carriage, and which he guided by 
 a leading rein. Goading one animal with his single spur, 
 and stimulating the other with his whip, he effected a rea- 
 sonable trot upon the causeway, which only terminated 
 when the whiskey stopped at Mr. Bindloose's door — an 
 event of importance enough to excite the curiosity of the 
 inhabitants of that and the neighbouring houses. Wheels 
 were laid aside, needles left sticking in the half-finished 
 seams, and many a nose, spectacled and unspectacled, was 
 popped out of the adjoining windows, which had the good 
 fortune to command a view of Mr. Bindloose's front door. 
 The faces of two or three giggling clerks were visible at 
 the barred casements of which we have spoken, much 
 amused at the descent of an old lady from this respecta-
 
 ST. ronan's well. 213 
 
 ble carriage, whose dress and appearance might possibly 
 have been fashionable at the time when her equipage was 
 new. A satin cardinal, lined with gray squirrels' skin, 
 and a black silk bonnet, trimmed with crape, were gar- 
 ments which did not now excite the respect, which in 
 their fresher days they had doubtless commanded. But 
 there was that in the features of the wearer, which would 
 have commanded Mr. Bindloose's best regard, though it 
 had appeared in far worse attire ; for he beheld the face 
 of an ancient customer, who had always paid her law ex- 
 penses with the ready penny, and whose accompt with the 
 bank was balanced by a \ery respectable sum at her 
 credit. It was, indeed, no other than our respected friend, 
 Mrs. Dods of the Cleikum Inn, St. Ronan's, Aultoun. 
 
 Now her arrival intimated matter of deep import. 
 Meg was a person of all others most averse to leave her 
 home, where, in her own opinion at least, nothing went 
 on well without her immediate superintendence. Limited, 
 therefore, as was her sphere, she remained fixed in the 
 centre thereof ; and few as were her satellites, they were 
 under the necessity of performing their revolutions around 
 her, while she herself continued stationary. Saturn, in 
 fact, would be scarce more surprised at a passing call 
 from the Sun, than Mr. Bindloose at this unexpected 
 visit of his old client. In one breath he rebuked the in- 
 quisitive impertinence of his clerks, in another stimulated 
 his housekeeper, old Hannah — for Mr. Bindloose was a 
 bluff bachelor — to get tea ready in the green parlour; 
 and while yet speaking, was at the side of the whiskey, 
 unclasping the curtains, rolling down the apron, and as- 
 sisting his old friend to dismount. 
 
 " The japanned tea-caddie, Hannah — the best bohea — 
 bid Tib kindle a spark of fire — the morning's damp —
 
 214 WAVKKI.KY NOVELS. 
 
 Draw in the giggling faces of ye, ye d — d idle scoun- 
 drels, or laugh at jour ain toom pouches — it will be lang 
 or your weeldoing fill them." This was spoken as the 
 honest lawyer himself might have said, in transitu, the 
 rest by the side of the carriage. "My stars, Mrs. Dods, 
 and is this really you ain sell, in propria persona ? — Wha 
 lookit for you at such a time of day ? — Anthony, how's 
 a' wi' ye, Anthony ?— so ye hae taen the road, again, An- 
 thony — help us down wi' the apron, Anthony — that will 
 do. — Lean on me, Mrs. Dods — help your mistress, An- 
 thony — put the horses in my stable — the lads will give 
 you the key. — Come away, Mrs. Dods — I am blithe to 
 see you straight your legs on the causeway of our auld 
 borough again — come in by, and we'll see to get you 
 some breakfast, for ye hae been asteer early this morn- 
 ing." 
 
 " I am a sair trouble to you, Mr. Bindloose," said the 
 old lady, accepting the offer of his arm, and accompany- 
 ing him into the house ; " I am e'en a sair trouble to you, 
 but I could not rest till I had your advice on something 
 of moment." 
 
 " Happy will I be to serve you, my gude auld acquain- 
 tance," said the Clerk ; " but sit you down — sit you down 
 — sit you down, Mrs. Dods, — meat and mess never hin- 
 dered wark. Ye are something overcome wi' your travel 
 — the spirit canna aye bear through the flesh, Mrs. Dods ; 
 ye should remember that your life is a precious one, and 
 ye should take care of your health, Mrs. Dods." 
 
 " My life precious ! " exclaimed Meg Dods ; " nane o' 
 your whullywhaing, Mr. Bindloose — Deil ane wad miss 
 the auld girning alewife, Mr. Bindloose, unless it were 
 here and there a puir body, and maybe the auld house- 
 tyke, that wadna be sae weel guided, puir fallow."
 
 ST. ROXAX'S WELL. 215 
 
 " Fie, fie ! Mrs. Dods," said the Clerk, in a tone of 
 friendly rebuke ; " it vexes an auld friend to hear ye 
 speak of yourself in that respectless sort of a way ; and, 
 as for quitting us, I bless God I have not seen you look 
 better this half score of years. But maybe you will be 
 thinking of setting your house in order, which is the act 
 of a carefu' and of a Christian woman — ! it's an 
 awfu' -thing to die intestate, if we had grace to con- 
 sider it." 
 
 " Aweel, I daur say I'll consider that some day soon, 
 Mr. Bindloose ; but that's no my present errand." 
 
 " Be it what it like, Mrs. Dods, ye are right heartily 
 welcome here, and we have a' the day to speak of the 
 business in hand — -festina lente, that is the true law lan- 
 guage — hooly and fairly, as one may say — ill treating 
 of business with an empty stomach — and here comes 
 your tea, and I hope Hannah has made it to your 
 taste." 
 
 Meg sipped her tea — confessed Hannah's skill in the 
 mysteries of the Chinese herb — sipped again, then tried 
 to eat a bit of bread and butter, with very indifferent 
 success ; and notwithstanding the lawyer's compliments 
 to her good looks, seemed, in reality, on the point of 
 becoming ill. 
 
 " In the deil's name, what is the matter ? " said the 
 lawyer, too well read in a profession where sharp obser- 
 vation is peculiarly necessary, to suffer these symptoms 
 of agitation to escape him. " Ay, dame, ye are taking 
 this business of yours deeper to heart than ever I kend 
 you take ony thing. Ony o' your banded debtors failed, 
 or like to fail ? What then, cheer ye up — you can afford 
 a little loss, and it canna be ony great matter, or I would 
 doubtless have heard of it."
 
 21 G WAVERLEY NOVELS. 
 
 " In troth, but it is a loss, Mr. Bindloose ; and what 
 say ye to the loss of a friend ? " 
 
 This was a possibility which had never entered the 
 lawyer's long list of calamities, and he was at some loss 
 to conceive what the old lady could possibly mean by so 
 sentimental a prolusion. But just as he began to come 
 out with his, " Ay, ay, we are all mortal, Vita incerta, 
 mors certissima ! " and two or three more pithy reflec- 
 tions, which he was in the habit of uttering after funerals, 
 when the will of the deceased was about to be opened, — 
 just then Mrs. Dods was pleased to become the ex- 
 pounder of her own oracle. 
 
 " I see how it is, Mr. Bindloose," she said ; " I maun 
 tell my ain ailment, for you are no likely to guess it ; 
 and so, if ye will shut the door, and see that nane of 
 your giggling callants are listening in the passage, I will 
 e'en tell you how things stand with me." 
 
 Mr. Bindloose hastily arose to obey her commands, 
 gave a cautionary glance into the Bank-office, and saw 
 that his idle apprentices were fast at their desks — turned 
 the key upon them, as if it were in a fit of absence, and 
 then returned, not a little curious to know what could be 
 the matter with his old friend ; and leaving off all far- 
 ther attempts to put cases, quietly drew his chair near 
 hers, and awaited her own time to make her communica- 
 tion. 
 
 ' ; Mr. Bindloose," said she, " I am no sure that you may 
 mind, about six or seven years ago, that there were twa 
 daft English callants, lodgers of mine, that had some 
 trouble from auld St. Konan's about shooting on the 
 Springwell-head muirs." 
 
 " I mind it as weel as yesterday, Mistress," said the 
 Clerk ; " by the same token you gave me a note for my
 
 ST. ronan's well. 217 
 
 trouble, (which wasna worth speaking about,) and bade 
 me no bring in a bill agaiust the puir bairns — ye had aye 
 a kind heart, Mrs. Dods." 
 
 " Maybe, and maybe no, Mr. Bindloose — that is just 
 as I find folk. — But concerning these lads, they baith 
 left the country, and, as I think, in some ill blude wi' ane 
 another, and now the auldest and the doucest of the twa 
 came back again about a fortnight sin' syne, and has been 
 my guest ever since." 
 
 " Aweel, and I trust he is not at his auld tricks again, 
 goodwife ? " answered the Clerk. " I havena sae muckle 
 to say either wi' the new Sheriff or the Bench of Justices 
 as I used to hae, Mrs. Dods — and the Procurator-fiscal 
 is very severe on poaching, being borne out by the new 
 Association — few of our auld friends of the Killnakelty 
 are able to come to the sessions now, Mrs. Dods." 
 
 " The waur for the country, Mr. Bindloose," replied 
 the old lady — " they were decent, considerate men, that 
 didna plague a puir herd callant muckle about a moor- 
 fowl or a mawkin, unless he turned common fowler — 
 Sir Robert Ringhorse used to say, the herd lads shot as 
 mony gleds and pyots as they did game. — But new lords 
 new laws — naething but fine and imprisonment, and the 
 game no a feather the plentier. If I wad hae a brace or 
 twa of birds in the house, as everybody looks for them 
 after the twelfth — I ken what they are like to cost me — 
 And what for no ? — risk maun be paid for. — There is 
 John Pirner himsell, that has keepit the muir-side thirty 
 year, in spite of a' the lairds in the country, shoots, he 
 tells me, now-a-days, as if he felt a rape about his 
 neck." 
 
 " It wasna about ony game business, then, that you 
 wanted ail vice?" said Bindloose, who, though somewhat
 
 218 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 
 
 ofadigresser himself, made little allowance for the ex- 
 cursions of others from the subject in hand. 
 
 "Indeed is it no, Mr. Bindloose," said Meg; "but it 
 is e'en about this unhappy callant that I spoke to you 
 about. — Ye maun ken I have cleiket a particular fancy 
 to this lad, Francis Tirl — a fancy that whiles surprises 
 my very sell, Mr. Bindloose, only that there is nae sin 
 in it." ' 
 
 " None — none in the world, Mrs. Dods," said the law- 
 yer, thinking at the same time within his own mind, 
 " Oho ! the mist begins to clear up — the young poacher 
 has hit the mark, I see — winged the old barren gray hen ! 
 — ay, ay, — a marriage-contract, no doubt — but I maun gie 
 her line. — Ye are a wise woman, Mrs. Dods," he con- 
 tinued aloud, " and can doubtless consider the chances 
 and the changes of human affairs." 
 
 " But I could never have considered what has befallen 
 this puir lad, Mr. Bindloose," said Mrs. Dods, " through 
 the malice of wicked men. — He lived then, at the Cleik- 
 um, as I tell you, for mair than a fortnight, as quiet as a 
 lamb on a lea-rig — a decenter lad never came within my 
 door — ate and drank aneugh for the gude of the house, 
 and nae mair than was for his ain gude, whether of body 
 or soul — cleared his bills ilka Saturday at e'en, as regu- 
 larly as Saturday came round." 
 
 " An admirable customer, no doubt, Mrs. Dods," said 
 the lawyer. 
 
 " Never was the like of him for that matter," answered 
 the honest dame. " But to see the malice of men ! — 
 Some of thae landloupers and gill-flirts doun at the filthy 
 puddle yonder, that they ca' the Waal, had heard of this 
 puir lad, and the bits of pictures that he made fashion of 
 drawing, and they maun cuitle him awa doun to the hot-
 
 ST. ronan's well. 219 
 
 tie, where mony a bonny story they had decked, Mr. 
 Bindloose, baith of Mr. Tirl and of mysell." 
 
 " A Commissary Court business," said the writer, going 
 off again upon a false scent. "I shall trim their jackets 
 for them, Mrs. Dods, if you can but bring tight evidence 
 of the facts— I will soon bring them to fine and palinode 
 — I will make them repent meddling with your good 
 name." 
 
 " My gude name ! What the sorrow is the matter wi' 
 my name, Mr. Bindloose ? " said the irritable client, " I 
 think ye hae been at the wee cappie this morning, for as 
 early as it is — My gude name ! — if ony body touched my 
 gude name, I would neither fash counsel nor commissary 
 — I wad be down amang them, like a jer-falcon amang a 
 Avheen wild-geese, and the best amang them that dared to 
 say ony thing of Meg Dods but what was honest and 
 civil, I wad sune see if her cockernonnie was made of her 
 ain hair or other folks. My gude name, indeed ! " 
 
 "Weel, weel, Mrs. Dods, I was mista'en, that's a'," 
 said the writer, " I was mista'en ; and I dare to say you 
 would haud your ain wi' your neighbours as weel as ony 
 woman in the land — But let us hear now what the grief 
 is, in one word." 
 
 " In one word, then, Clerk Bindloose, it is little short 
 f — murder," said Meg in a low tone, as if the very 
 utterance of the word startled her. 
 
 " Murder ! murder, Mrs. Dods ? — it cannot be — there 
 is not a word of it in the Sheriff-office — the Procurator- 
 fiscal kens nothing of it — there could not be murder in 
 the country, and me not hear of it — for God's sake, take 
 heed what you say, woman, and dinna get yourself into 
 trouble." 
 
 "Mr. Bindloose, I can but speak according to my
 
 220 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 
 
 lights," said Mrs. Dods ; " you are in a sense a judge in 
 Israel, at least you are one of the scribes having author- 
 ity — and I tell you with a wae and bitter heart, that this 
 puir callant of mine that was lodging in my house has 
 been murdered or kidnapped awa amang thae banditti 
 folk down at (lie New Waal; and I'll hae the law put 
 in force against them, if it should cost me a hundred 
 pounds." 
 
 The Clerk stood much astonished at the nature of Meg's 
 accusation, and the pertinacity with which she seemed 
 disposed to insist upon it. 
 
 " I have this comfort," she continued, " that whatever 
 has happened, it has been by no fault of mine, Mr. Bind- 
 loose ; for weel I wot, before that bloodthirsty auld half- 
 pay Philistine, MacTurk, got to speech of him, I clawed his 
 cantle to some purpose with my hearth-besom. — But the 
 poor simple bairn himsell, that had nae mair knowledge 
 of the wickedness of human nature than a calf has of a 
 flesher's gully, he threepit to see the auld hardened blood- 
 shedder, and trysted wi' him to meet wi' some of the gang 
 at an hour certain the neist day, and awa he gaed to keep 
 tryst, but since that hour naebody ever has set een on him. 
 — And the mansworn villains now want to put a disgrace 
 on him, and say that he fled the country rather than face 
 them ! — a likely story — fled the country for them ! — and 
 leave his bill unsettled — him that was sae regular — and 
 his portmantle and his fishing-rod, and the pencils and 
 pictures he held sic a wark about ! — It's my faithful belief, 
 Mr. Bindloose — and ye may trust me or no as ye like — 
 that he had some foul play between the Cleikum and the 
 Buck-stane. I have thought it, and I have dreamed it, 
 and I will be at the bottom of it, or my name is not Meg 
 Dods, and that I wad have them a' to reckon on. — Ay, ay,
 
 st. ronan's well. 221 
 
 that's right, Mr. Bindloose, tak out your pen and inkhorn, 
 and let us set about it to purpose." 
 
 With considerable difficulty, and at the expense of 
 much cross-examination, Mr. Bindloose extracted from 
 his client a detailed account of the proceedings of the 
 company at the Well towards Tyrrel, so far as they were 
 known to, or suspected by Meg, making notes, as the 
 examination proceeded, of what ajjpeared to be matter of 
 consequence. After a moment's consideration, he asked 
 the dame the very natural question, how she came to be 
 acquainted with the material fact, that a hostile appoint- 
 ment was made between Captain MacTurk and her 
 lodger, when, according to her own account, it was made 
 intra parietes, and remotis testibus ? 
 
 "Ay, but we victuallers ken weel aneugh what goes on 
 in our ain houses," said Meg — " And what for no ? — If 
 ye maun ken a' about it, I e'en listened through the key- 
 hole of the door." 
 
 " And do you say you heard them settle an appointment 
 for a duel ? " said the Clerk ; " and did you no take ony 
 measures to hinder mischief, Mrs. Dods, having such a 
 respect for this lad as you say you have, Mrs. Dods ? — I 
 really wadna have looked for the like o' this at your 
 hands." 
 
 " In truth, Mr. Bindloose," said Meg, putting her apron 
 to her eyes, " and that's what vexes me mair than a' the 
 rest, and ye needna say muckle to ane whose heart is e'en 
 the sairer that she has been a thought to blame. But 
 there has been mony a challenge, as they ca' it, passed in 
 my house when thae daft lads of the Wildfire Club and 
 tin- Helterskelter were upon their rambles; and they had 
 aye sense aneugh to make it up without fighting, sac that 
 I really did not apprehend ony thing like mischief. — And
 
 222 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 
 
 ye maun think, moreover, Mr. Bindloose, that it would 
 have been an unco thing if a guest, in a decent and cred- 
 itable public like mine, was to have cried coward before 
 ony of time land-louping blackguards that live down at 
 the buttle yonder." 
 
 " That is to say, Mrs. Dods, you were desirous your 
 guest should fight for the honour of your house," said 
 Bindloose. 
 
 " What for no, Mr. Bindloose ? — Isna that kind of fray 
 aye about honour ? and what for should the honour of a 
 substantial, four-nooked, sclated house of three stories, no 
 be foughten for, as weel as the credit of ony of these feck- 
 less callants that make such a fray about their reputation ? 
 — I promise you my house, the Cleikum, stood in the Auld 
 Town of St. Ronan's before they were born, and it will 
 stand there after they are hanged, as I trust some of them 
 are like to be." 
 
 " Well, but perhaps your lodger had less zeal for the 
 honour of the house, and has quietly taken himself out of 
 harm's way," said Mr. Bindloose ; " for if I understand 
 your story, this meeting never took place." 
 
 " Have less zeal ! " said Meg, determined to be pleased 
 with no supposition of her lawyer, " Mr. Bindloose, ye 
 little ken him — I wish ye had seen him when he was an- 
 gry ! — I dared hardly face him mysell, and there are no 
 mony folk that I am feared for — Meeting ! there was nae 
 meeting, I trow — they never dared to meet him fairly — but 
 I am sure waur came of it than ever would have come of a 
 meeting ; for Anthony heard twa shots gang off as he was 
 watering the auld naig down at the burn, and that is not 
 far frae the footpath that leads to the Buck-stane. I was 
 angry at him for no making on to see what the matter was, 
 but he thought it was auld Pirner out wi' the double bar-
 
 st. bonan's well. 223 
 
 rel, and he wasna keen of making himself a witness, 
 in case he suld have been caa'd on in the Poaching 
 Court." 
 
 " Well," said the Sheriff-clerk, " and I dare say he did 
 hear a poacher fire a couple of shots — nothing more like- 
 ly. Believe me, Mrs. Dods, your guest had no fancy for 
 the party Captain MacTurk invited him to — and being a 
 quiet sort of man, he has just walked away to his own 
 home, if he has one — I am really sorry you have given 
 yourself the trouble of this long journey about so simple 
 a matter." 
 
 Mrs. Dods remained with her eyes fixed on the ground 
 in a very sullen and discontented posture, and when she 
 spoke, it was in a tone of corresponding displeasure. 
 
 " Aweel — aweel — live and learn, they say — I thought 
 I had a friend in you, Mr. Bindloose — I am sure I aye 
 took your part when folk miscaa'd ye, and said ye were 
 this, that, and the other thing, and little better than an 
 auld sneck-drawing loon, Mr. Bindloose. — And ye have 
 aye keepit my penny of money, though, nae doubt, Tarn 
 Turnpenny lives nearer me, and they say he allows half 
 a per cent mair than ye do if the siller lies, and mine is 
 but seldom steered." 
 
 " But ye have not the Bank's security, madam," said 
 Mr. Bindloose, reddening. "I say harm of nae man's 
 credit — ill would it beseem me — but there is a difference 
 between Tam Turnpenny and the Bank, I trow." 
 
 " Week weel, Bank here Bank there, I thought I had 
 a friend in you, Mr. Bindloose ; and here am I, come 
 from my ain house all the way to yours, for sma' comfort, 
 I think." 
 
 " My stars, madam," said the perplexed scribe, " what 
 would you have me to do in such a blind story as yours,
 
 224 WAVEELEY NOVELS. 
 
 Mrs. Dods ? — Be a thought reasonable — consider that 
 there is no Corpus delicti." 
 
 " Corpvs delicti ? and what's that? " said Meg ; " some- 
 thing to be paid for, nae doubt, for your hard words a' 
 end in that. — And what for suld I no have a Corpus de- 
 licti, or a Habeas Corpus, or ony other Corpus that I 
 like, sac lang as I am willing to lick and lay down the 
 ready siller." 
 
 " Lord help and pardon us, Mrs. Dods," said the dis- 
 tressed agent, " ye mistake the matter a' thegether ! When 
 I say there is no Corpus delicti, I mean to say there is 
 no proof that a crime has been committed." * 
 
 "And does the man say that murder is not a crime, 
 than ? " answered Meg, who had taken her own view of 
 the subject far too strongly to be converted to any other 
 — " Weel I wot it's a crime, baith by the law of God and 
 man, and mony a pretty man has been strapped for it." 
 
 " I ken all that very weel," answered the writer ; " but, 
 my stars, Mrs. Dods, there is nae evidence of murder in 
 this case — nae proof that a man has been slain — nae pro- 
 duction of his dead body — and that is what we call the 
 Corpus delicti." 
 
 " Weel, than, the deil lick it out of ye," said Meg ris- 
 ing in wrath, " for I will awa hame again ; and as for the 
 puir lad's body, I'll hae it fund, if it cost me turning the 
 earth for three miles round wi' pick and shool — if it were 
 but to give the puir bairn Christian burial, and to bring 
 punishment on MacTurk and the murdering crew at the 
 Waal, and to shame an auld doited fule like yoursell, John 
 Bindloose." 
 
 * For example, a man cannot be tried for murder merely in the 
 case of the non-appearance of an individual; there must be proof 
 that the party has been murdered.
 
 ST. ROXAX S WELL. 
 
 225 
 
 She rose in wrath to call her vehicle ; but it was neither 
 the interest nor the intention of the writer that his cus- 
 tomer and he should part on such indifferent terms. He 
 implored her patience, and reminded her that the horses, 
 poor things, had just come off their stage — an argument 
 which sounded irresistible in the ears of the old she-pub- 
 lican, in whose early education due care of the post-cattle 
 mingled with the most sacred duties. She therefore re- 
 sumed her seat again in a sullen mood, and Mr. Bindloose 
 was cudgelling his brains for some argument which might 
 bring the old lady to reason, when his attention was drawn 
 by a noise in the passage. 
 
 VOL. XXXIII. 
 
 15
 
 226 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 A PRAISER OF PAST TIMES. 
 
 Now your traveller, 
 
 He and his toothpick at my worship's mess. 
 
 King John. 
 
 The noise stated at the conclusion of last chapter to 
 have disturbed Mr. Bindloose, was the rapping of one as 
 in haste and impatience, at the Bank-office door, which 
 office was an apartment of the Banker's house, on the 
 left hand of his passage, as the parlour in which he had 
 received Mrs. Dods was upon the right. 
 
 In general, this office was patent to all having business 
 there ; but at present, whatever might be the hurry of 
 the party who knocked, the clerks within the office could 
 not admit him, being themselves made prisoners by the 
 prudent jealousy of Mr. Bindloose, to prevent them from 
 listening to his consultation with Mrs. Dods. They 
 therefore answered the angry and impatient knocking of 
 the stranger only with stifled giggling from within, find- 
 ing it no doubt an excellent joke, that their master's pre- 
 caution was thus interfering with their own discharge of 
 duty. 
 
 With one or two hearty curses upon them as the regu- 
 lar plagues of his life, Mr. Bindloose darted into the pas- 
 sage, and admitted the stranger into his official apartment.
 
 ST. roxan's well. 227 
 
 The doors both of the parlour and office remaining open, 
 the ears of Luckie Dods (experienced, as the reader 
 knows, in collecting intelligence) could partly overhear 
 what passed. The conversation seemed to regard a cash 
 transaction of some importance, as Meg became aware 
 when the stranger raised a voice which was naturally 
 sharp and high, as he did when uttering the following 
 words, towards the close of a conversation which had 
 lasted about five minutes — " Premium ? — Not a pice, sir 
 — not a courie — not a farthing — premium for a Bank of 
 England bill ? d'ye take me for a fool, sir ? — do not I 
 know that you call forty days par when you give remit- 
 tances to London ? " 
 
 Mr. Bindloose was here heard to mutter something in- 
 distinctly about the custom of the trade. 
 
 " Custom ! " retorted the stranger, " no such thing — 
 damn'd bad custom, if it is one — don't tell me of customs 
 — 'Sbodikins, man, I know the rate of exchange all over 
 the world, and have drawn bills from Timbuctoo — My 
 friends in the Strand filed it along with Bruce's from 
 Gondar — talk to me of premium on a Bank of England 
 post-bill ! — What d'ye look at the bill for ? — D'ye think it 
 doubtful ? — I can change it." 
 
 " By no means necessary," answered Bindloose, " the 
 bill is quite right ; but it is usual to indorse, sir." 
 
 " Certainly — reach me a pen — d'ye think I can write 
 with my ratan ? — What sort of ink is this ? — yellow as 
 curry sauce — never mind — there is my name — Peregrine 
 Touchwood — I got it from the Willoughbies, my Chris- 
 tian name — Have I my full change here ? " 
 
 " Your full change, sir," answered Bindloose. 
 ■ Why, you should give me a premium, friend, instead 
 of me giving you one."
 
 228 W.VVERLEY NOVELS. 
 
 " It is out of our way, I assure you, sir," said the 
 banker, " quite out of our way — but if you would step 
 into the parlour and take a cup of tea" 
 
 " Why, ay," said the stranger, his voice sounding more 
 distinctly as (talking all the while, and ushered along by 
 Mr. Bindloose) he left the office and moved towards the 
 parlour, " a cup of tea were no such bad thing, if one 
 
 could come by it genuine — but as for your premium" 
 
 So saying, he entered the parlour and made his bow to 
 Mrs. Dods, who, seeing what she called a decent purpose- 
 like body, and aware that his pocket was replenished with 
 English and Scottish paper currency, returned the com- 
 pliment with her best curtsy. 
 
 Mr. Touchwood, when surveyed more at leisure, was a 
 short, stout, active man, who, though sixty years of age 
 and upwards, retained in his sinews and frame the elas- 
 ticity of an earlier period. His countenance expressed 
 self-conlidence, and something like a contempt for those 
 who had neither seen nor endured so much as he had him- 
 self. His short black hair was mingled with gray, but 
 not entirely whitened by it. His eyes were jet black, 
 deep-set, small, and sparkling, and contributed, with a 
 short turned-up nose, to express an irritable and choleric 
 habit. His complexion was burnt to a brick-colour by 
 the vicissitudes of climate, to which it had been subjected ; 
 and his face, which, at the distance of a yard or two, 
 seemed hale and smooth, appeared, when closely exam- 
 ined, to be seamed with a million of wrinkles, crossing 
 each other in every direction possible, but as fine as if 
 drawn by the point of a very small needle.* His dress 
 was a blue coat and buff waistcoat, half-boots remarkably 
 
 * This was a peculiarity in the countenance of the celebrated Cos- 
 sack leader Platoff.
 
 ST. EOXAX'S WELL. 229 
 
 well blacked, and a silk handkerchief tied with military 
 precision. The only antiquated part of his dress was a 
 cocked hat of equilateral dimensions, in the button-hole 
 of which he wore a very small cockade. Mrs. Dods, ac- 
 customed to judge of persons by their first appearance, 
 said, that in the three steps which he made from the door 
 to the tea-table, she recognised, without the possibility of 
 mistake, the gait of a person who was well to pass in the 
 world ; " and that," she added with a wink, " is what we 
 victuallers are seldom deceived in. If a gold-laced waist- 
 coat has an empty pouch, the plain swan's-down will be 
 the brawer of the twa." 
 
 " A drizzling morning, good madam," said Mr. Touch- 
 wood, as with a view of sounding what sort of company 
 he had got into. 
 
 " A fine saft morning for the crap, sir," answered Mrs. 
 Dods, with equal solemnity. 
 
 " Right my good madam ; soft is the veiy word, though 
 it has been some time since I heard it. I have cast a 
 double hank about the round world since I last heard of 
 a soft * morning." 
 
 " You will be from these parts, then ? " said the writer, 
 ingeniously putting a case, which, he hoped, would induce 
 the stranger to explain himself. " And yet, sir," he 
 added, after a pause, " I was thinking that Touchwood is 
 not a Scottish name, at least that I ken of." 
 
 "Scottish name ? — no," replied the traveller ; " but a 
 man may have been in these parts before, without being 
 a native — or, being a native, he may have had some 
 reason to change his name — there are many reasons why 
 men change their names." 
 
 * An epithet which expresses, in Scotland, what the barometer calls 
 rainy.
 
 230 "WAVERLEY NOVELS. 
 
 " Certainly, and some of* them very good ones," said 
 the lawyer ; " as in the common case of an heir of entail, 
 where deed of provision and tailzie is maist ordinarily 
 implemented by taking up name and arms." 
 
 " Ay, or in the case of a man having made the country 
 too hot for him under his own proper appellative," said 
 Mr. Touchwood. 
 
 " That is a supposition, sir," replied the lawyer, " which 
 it would ill become me to put. — But at any rate, if you 
 knew this country formerly, ye cannot but be marvel- 
 lously pleased with the change we have been making 
 since the American war, — hill-sides bearing clover in- 
 stead of heather, — rents doubled, trebled, quadrupled, — 
 the auld reekie dungeons pulled down, and gentlemen 
 living in as good houses as you will see anywhere in 
 England." 
 
 " Much good may it do them, for a pack of fools ! " 
 replied Mr. Touchwood, hastily. 
 
 " You do not seem much delighted with our improve- 
 ments, sir," said the banker, astonished to hear a dissen- 
 tient voice where he conceived all men were unanimous. 
 
 " Pleased ! " answered the stranger — " Yes, as much 
 pleased as I am with the devil, who, I believe, set many 
 of them agoing. Ye have got an idea that every thing 
 must be changed — Unstable as water, ye shall not excel 
 — I tell ye, there have been more changes in this poor 
 nook of yours within the List forty years than in the 
 great empires of the East for the space of four thousand, 
 for what I know." 
 
 "And why not," replied Bindloose, "if they be changes 
 for the better ? " 
 
 " But they are not for the better," replied Mr. Touch- 
 wood, eagerly. " I left your peasantry as poor as rats
 
 ST. roxan's well. 231 
 
 indeed, but honest and industrious, enduring their lot in 
 this world with firmness, and looking forward to the next 
 with hope — Now they are mere eye-servants — looking at 
 their watches, forsooth, every ten minutes, lest they 
 should work for their master half an instant after loosing- 
 time — And then, instead of studying the Bible on the 
 work days, to kittle the clergyman with doubtful points 
 of controversy on the Sabbath, they glean all their theol- 
 ogy from Tom Paine and Voltaire." 
 
 " Weel I wot the gentleman speaks truth," said Mrs. 
 Dods, " I fand a bundle of their bawbee blasphemies in 
 my ain kitchen — But I trow I made a clean house of the 
 packman loon that brought them ! — No content wi' turn- 
 ing the tawpies' heads wi' ballants, and driving them daft 
 wi' ribands, to cheat them out of their precious souls, and 
 gie them the deevil's ware, that I suld say sae, in ex- 
 change for the siller that suld support their puir father 
 that's afF wark and bedridden ! " 
 
 " Father ! madam," said the stranger ; " they think no 
 more of their father than Regan or Goneril." 
 
 " In gude troth, ye have skeel of our sect, sir," replied 
 the dame ; " they are gomerils, every one of them — I tell 
 them sae every hour of the day, but catch them profiting 
 by the doctrine." 
 
 " And then the brutes are turned mercenary, madam," 
 said Mr. Touchwood. " I remember when a Scottishman 
 would have scorned to touch a shilling that he had not 
 earned, and yet was as ready to help a stranger as an 
 Arab of the desert. And now I did but drop my cane 
 the other day as T was riding — a fellow who was working 
 at the hedge made three steps to lift it — I thanked him, 
 and my friend threw his hat on his head, and ' damned 
 my thanks, if that were all ' — Saint Giles could not have 
 excelled him."
 
 232 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 
 
 " Weel, weel," said the banker, " that may be a' as you 
 say, sir, and nae doubt wealth makes wit waver, but the 
 country's wealthy, that cannot be denied, and wealth, sir, 
 ye ken " 
 
 " I know wealth makes itself wings," answered the cyn- 
 ical stranger; "but I am not quite sure we have it even 
 now. You make a great show, indeed, with building and 
 cultivation ; but stock is not capital, any more than the 
 fat of a corpulent man is health or strength." 
 
 " Surely, Mr. Touchwood," said Bindloose, who felt his 
 own account in the modern improvements, " a set of land- 
 lords, living like lairds in good earnest, and tenants with 
 better housekeeping than the lairds used to have, and 
 facing Whitsunday and Martinmas as I would face my 
 breakfast — if these are not signs of wealth, I do not 
 know where to seek for them." 
 
 "They are signs of folly, sir," replied Touchwood; 
 " folly that is poor, and renders itself poorer by desiring 
 to be thought rich ; and how they come by the means 
 they are so ostentatious of, you, who are a banker, per- 
 haps can tell me better than I can guess." 
 
 " There is maybe an accommodation-bill discounted 
 now and then, Mr. Touchwood ; but men must have ac- 
 commodation, or the world would stand still — accommo- 
 dation is the grease that makes the wheels go." 
 
 " Ay, makes them go down hill to the devil," answered 
 Touchwood. " I left you bothered about one Air Bank, 
 but the whole country is an Air bank now, I think — And 
 who is to pay the piper ? — But it's all one — I will see 
 little more of it — it is a perfect Babel, and would turn 
 the head of a man who has spent his life with people who 
 love sitting better than running, silence better than speak- 
 ing, who never eat but when they are hungry, never
 
 st. ronan's well. 233 
 
 drink but when thirsty, never laugh without a jest, and 
 never speak but when they have something to say. But 
 here, it is all run, ride, and drive — froth, foam, and flip- 
 pancy — no steadiness — no character." 
 
 " I'll lay the burden of my life," said Dame Dods, 
 looking towards her friend Bindloose, " that the gentle- 
 man has been at the new Spaw-Waal yonder." 
 
 " Spaw do you call it, madam ? — If you mean the new 
 establishment that has been spawned down yonder at St. 
 Eonan's, it is the very fountain-head of folly and cox- 
 combry — a Babel for noise and a Vanity-fair for nonsense 
 — no well in your swamps tenanted by such a conceited 
 colony of clamorous frogs." 
 
 " Sir, sir ! " exclaimed Dame Dods, delighted with the 
 unqualified sentence passed upon her fashionable rivals, 
 and eager to testify her respect for the judicious stranger 
 who had pronounced it, — " will you let me have the 
 pleasure of pouring you out a dish of tea ? " And so 
 saying, she took bustling possession of the administration 
 which had hitherto remained in the hands of Mr. Bind- 
 loose himself. " I hope it is to your taste, sir," she con- 
 tinued, when the traveller had accepted her courtesy with 
 the grateful acknowledgment which men addicted to 
 speak a great deal usually show to a willing auditor. 
 
 " It is as good as we have any right to expect, ma'am," 
 answered Mr. Touchwood ; " not quite like what I have 
 drunk at Canton with old Fong Qua ; but the Celestial 
 Empire does not send its best tea to Leadenhall Street, 
 nor does Leadenhall Street send its best to Marchthorn." 
 
 " That may be very true, sir," replied the dame ; " but 
 I will venture to say that Mr. Bindloose's tea is muckle 
 better than you had at the Spaw-Waal yonder." 
 
 " Tea, madam ! — I saw none — Ash leaves and black-
 
 234 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 
 
 thorn leaves were brought in in painted canisters, and 
 handed about by powder-monkeys in livery, and con- 
 sumed by those who liked it, amidst the chattering of 
 parrots and the squalling of kittens. I longed for the 
 days of the Spectator, when I might have laid my penny 
 on the bar and retired without ceremony — But no — this 
 blessed decoction was circulated under the auspices of 
 some half-crazed blue-stocking or other, and we were 
 saddled with all the formality of an entertainment, for 
 this miserable allowance of a cockle-shell full of cat-lap 
 per head." 
 
 " Weel, sir," answered Dame Dods, " all I can say is, 
 that if it had been my luck to have served you at the 
 Cleikum Inn, which our folks have kept for these twa 
 generations, I canna pretend to say ye should have had 
 such tea as ye have been used to in foreign parts where 
 it grows, but the best I had I wad have gi'en it to a gentle- 
 man of your appearance, and I never charged mair than 
 sixpence in all my time, and my father's before me." 
 
 " I wish I had known the Old Inn was still standing, 
 madam," said the traveller ; " I should certainly have 
 been your guest, and sent down for the water every 
 morning — the doctors insist I must use Cheltenham, or 
 some substitute, for the bile — though, d — n them, I 
 believe it's only to hide their own ignorance. And I 
 thought this Spaw would have been the least evil of the 
 two ; but I have been fairly overreached — one might as 
 well live in the inside of a bell. I think young St. Ro- 
 nan's must be mad, to have established such a Vanity-fair 
 upon his father's old property." 
 
 " Do you ken this St. Ronan's that now is ? " inquired 
 the dame. 
 
 " By report only," said Mr. Touchwood ; " but I have
 
 st. ronan's well. 235 
 
 heard of the family, and I think I have read of them, too, 
 in Scottish history. I am sorry to understand they are 
 lower in the world than they have been. This young 
 man does not seem to take the best way to mend matters, 
 spending his time among gamblers and black-legs." 
 
 " I should be sorry if it were so," said honest Meg 
 Dods, wdiose hereditary respect for the family always 
 kept her from joining in any scandal affecting the charac- 
 ter of the young laird — " my forbears, sir, have had 
 kindness frae his ; and although maybe he may have for- 
 gotten all about it, it wad ill become me to say ony thing 
 of him that should not be said of his father's son." 
 
 Mr. Bindloose had not the same motive for forbear- 
 ance ; he declaimed against Mowbray as a thoughtless 
 dissipater of his own fortune, and that of others. " I 
 have some reason to speak," he said, " having two of his 
 notes for £100 each, which I discounted out of mere 
 kindness and respect for his ancient family, and which he 
 thinks nae mair of retiring, than he does of paying the 
 national debt — And here has he been raking every shop 
 in Marchthorn, to fit out an entertainment for all the fine 
 folk at the "Well yonder ; and tradesfolk are obliged to 
 take his acceptances for their furnishings. But they may 
 cash his bills that will ; I ken ane that will never advance 
 a bawbee on ony paper that has John Mowbray either on 
 the back or front of it. He had mair need to be paying 
 the debts which he has made already, than making new 
 anes, that he may feed fules and flatterers." 
 
 " I believe he is likely to lose his preparations, too," 
 said Mr Touchwood, " for the entertainment has been put 
 off, as I heard, in consequence of Miss Mowbray's illness." 
 
 "Ay, ay, puir thing!" said Dame Margaret Dods; 
 " her health has been unsettled for this mony a day."
 
 236 WAYl.KLKY NOVELS. 
 
 " Something wrong here, they tell me," said the travel- 
 ler, pointing to his own forehead significantly. 
 
 " God only kens," replied Mrs. Dods ; " but I. rather 
 suspect the heart than the head — the puir thing is hur- 
 ried here and there, and down to the Waal, and up again, 
 and nae society or quiet at hame ; and a' thing ganging 
 this unthrifty gate — nae wonder she is no that weel set- 
 tled." 
 
 " Well," replied Touchwood, " she is worse they say 
 than she has been, and that has occasioned the party at 
 Shaws-Castle having been put off. Besides, now this 
 fine young lord has come down to the Well, undoubtedly 
 they will wait her recovery." 
 
 " A lord ! " ejaculated the astonished Mrs. Dods ; " a 
 lord come down to the Waal — they will be neither to 
 baud nor to bind now — ance wud and ay waur — a lord ! 
 — set them up and shute them forward — a lord ! — the 
 Lord have a care o' us ! — a lord at the hottle ! — Maister 
 Touchwood, it's my mind he will only prove to be a Lord 
 o' Session." 
 
 " Nay, not so, my good lady," replied the traveller, 
 " he is an English lord, and, as they say, a Lord of Par- 
 liament — but some folk pretend to say there is a flaw in 
 the title." 
 
 " I'll warrant is there — a dozen of them ! " said Meg, 
 with alacrity — for she could by no means endure to think 
 on the accumulation of dignity likely to accrue to the 
 rival establishment, from its becoming the residence of 
 an actual nobleman. " I'll warrant he'll prove a land- 
 louping lord on their hand, and they will be e'en cheap 
 o' the loss — And he has come down out of order it's like, 
 and nae doubt he'll no be lang there before he will re- 
 cover Ins health, for the credit of the Spaw."
 
 st. ronan's well. 237 
 
 " Faith, madam, his present disorder is one which the 
 Spaw will hardly cure — he is shot in the shoulder with 
 a pistol-bullet — a robbery attempted it seems — that is 
 one of your new accomplishments — no such thing hap- 
 pened in Scotland in my time — men would have sooner 
 expected to meet with the phoenix than with a highway- 
 man." 
 
 " And where did this happen, if you please, sir ? " 
 asked the man of bills. 
 
 " Somewhere near the old village," replied the stran- 
 ger ; " and, if I am rightly informed, on Wednesday 
 last." 
 
 " This explains your twa shots, I am thinking, Mrs. 
 Dods," said Mr. Bindloose ; " your groom heard them on 
 the Wednesday — it must have been this attack on the 
 stranger nobleman." 
 
 " Maybe it was, and maybe it was not," said Mrs. 
 Dods ; " but I'll see gude reason before I give up my 
 ain judgment in that case. I wad like to ken if this gen- 
 tleman," she added, returning to the subject from which 
 Mr. Touchwood's interesting conversation had for a few 
 minutes diverted her thoughts, " has heard aught of Mr. 
 Tirl ? " 
 
 " If you mean the person to whom this paper relates," 
 said the stranger, taking a printed handbill from his 
 pocket, " I heard of little else — the whole place rang of 
 him, till I was almost as sick of Tyrrel as William Ru- 
 fus was. Some idiotical quarrel which he had engaged 
 in, and which he had not fought out, as their wisdom 
 thought he should have done, was the principal cause of 
 censure. That is another folly now, which has gained 
 ground among you. Formerly, two old proud lairds, or 
 cadets of good family, perhaps quarrelled, and had a ren-
 
 238 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 
 
 contre, or fought a duel after the fashion of their old 
 Gothic ancestors ; but men who had no grandfathers 
 never dreamt of such folly — And here the folk denounce 
 a trumpery dauber of canvas, for such I understand to 
 he this hero's occupation, as if he were a field-officer, 
 who made valour his profession ; and who, if you de- 
 prived him of his honour, was liked to be deprived of 
 his bread at the same time. — Ha, ha, ha ! it reminds one 
 of Don Quixote, who took his neighbour, Samson Car- 
 rasco, for a knight-errant." 
 
 The perusal of this paper, which contained the notes 
 formerly laid before the reader, containing the statement 
 of Sir Bingo, and the censure which the company at the 
 Well had thought fit to pass upon his affair with Mr. 
 Tyrrel, induced Mr. Bindloose to say to Mrs. Dods, with 
 as little exultation on the superiority of his own judg- 
 ment as human nature would permit, — 
 
 " Ye see now that I was right, Mrs. Dods, and that 
 there was nae earthly use in your fashing yoursell wi' 
 this lang journey — The lad has just ta'en the bent, rather 
 than face Sir Bingo ; and troth, I think him the wiser of 
 the twa for sae doing — There ye hae print for it." 
 
 Meg answered somewhat sullenly, " Ye may be mis- 
 ta'en, for a' that, your ainsell, for as wise as ye are, Mr. 
 Bindloose ; I shall hae that matter mair strictly inquired 
 into." 
 
 This led to a renewal of the altercation concerning 
 the probable fate of Tyrrel, in the course of which the 
 stranger was induced to take some interest in the subject. 
 
 At length Mrs. Dods, receiving no countenance from 
 the experienced lawyer for the hypothesis she had 
 formed, rose, in something like displeasure, to order her 
 whiskey to be prepared. But hostess as she was her-
 
 st. konan's well. 239 
 
 self, when in her own dominions, she reckoned without 
 her host in the present instance ; for the hump-backed 
 postilion, as absolute in his department as Mrs. .Dods 
 herself, declared that the cattle would not be fit for the 
 road these two hours yet. The good lady was therefore 
 obliged to await his pleasure, bitterly lamenting all the 
 while the loss which a house of public entertainment was 
 sure to sustain by the absence of the landlord or land- 
 lady, and anticipating a long list of broken dishes, mis- 
 calculated reckonings, unarranged chambers, and other 
 disasters, which she was to expect at her return. Mr. 
 Biudloose, zealous to recover the regard of his good 
 friend and client, which he had in some degree forfeited 
 by contradicting her on a favourite subject, did not 
 choose to offer the unpleasing, though obvious topic of 
 consolation, that an unfrequented inn is little exposed to 
 the accidents she apprehended. On the contrary, he con- 
 doled with her very cordially, and went so far as to hint, 
 that if Mr. Touchwood had come to Marchthorn with 
 post-horses, as he supposed from his dress, she could 
 have the advantage of them to return with more de- 
 spatch to St. Ronan's. 
 
 " I am not sure," said Mr. Touchwood, suddenly, " but 
 I may return there myself. In that case I will be glad to 
 set this good lady down, and to stay a few days at her 
 house, if she will receive me. — I respect a woman like 
 you, ma'am, who pursue the occupation of your father 
 — I have been in countries, ma'am, where people have 
 followed the same trade, from father to son for thou- 
 sands of years — And I like the fashion — it shows a stead- 
 iness and sobriety of character. 
 
 Mrs. Dods put on a joyous countenance at this pro- 
 posal, protesting that all should be done in her power to
 
 240 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 
 
 make things agreeable ; and while her good friend, Mr. 
 Bindloose, expatiated upon the comfort her new guest 
 would experience at the Cleikum, she silently contem- 
 plated with delight the prospect of a speedy and dazzling 
 triumph, by carrying off a creditable customer from her 
 showy and successful rival at the Well. 
 
 " I shall be easily accommodated, ma'am," said the 
 stranger ; " I have travelled too much and too far to be 
 troublesome. A Spanish venta, a Persian khan, or a 
 Turkish caravanserail, is all the same to me — only as I 
 have no servant — indeed, never can be plagued with one 
 of these idle loiterers, — I must beg you will send to the 
 Well for a bottle of the water on such mornings as I can- 
 not walk there myself — I find it is really of some service 
 to me." 
 
 Mrs. Dods readily promised compliance with this rea- 
 sonable request ; graciously conceding, that there " could 
 be nae ill in the water itsell, but maybe some gude — it 
 was only the New Inn, and the daft havrels that they 
 caa'd the Company, that she misliked. Folk had a jest 
 that St. Ronan dookit the Deevil in the Waal, which 
 garr'd it taste aye since of brimstone — but she dared to 
 say that was a' papist nonsense, for she was tell't by him 
 that kend weel, and that was the minister himsell, that 
 St. Ronan was nane of your idolatrous Roman saunts, 
 but a Chaldee," (meaning probably a Culdee,) " whilk 
 was doubtless a very different story." 
 
 Matters being thus arranged to the satisfaction of both 
 parties, the post-chaise was ordered, and speedily ap- 
 peared at the door of Mr. Bindloose's mansion. It was 
 not without a private feeling of reluctance, that honest 
 Meg mounted the step of a vehicle, on the door of 
 which was painted, "Fox Inn and Hotel, St. Ro-
 
 ST. ronan's well. 241 
 
 nan's Well ; " but it was too late to start such scru- 
 ples. 
 
 " I never thought to have entered ane o' their hurley- 
 hackets," she said, as she seated herself ; " and sic a like 
 thing as it is — scarce room for twa folk ! — Weel I wot, 
 Mr. Touchwood, when I was in the hiring line, our twa 
 chaises wad hae carried, ilk ane o' them, four grown folk 
 and as mony bairns. I trust that doited creature An- 
 thony will come awa back wr my whiskey and the 
 cattle, as soon as they have had their feed. — Are ye 
 sure ye hae room aneugh, sir ? — I wad fain hotch mysell 
 farther yont." 
 
 " 0, ma'am, answered the Oriental, " I am accustomed 
 to all sorts of conveyances — a dooly, a litter, a cart, a 
 palanquin, or a post-chaise, are all alike to me — I think 
 I could be an inside with Queen Mab in a nutshell, rather 
 than not get forward. — Begging you many pardons, if you 
 have no particular objections, I will light my sheroot," 
 &c. &c. &c. 
 
 VOL. XXXIII. 16
 
 242 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 THE CLERGYMAN. 
 
 A man he was to all the country dear, 
 And passing rich with forty pounds a-year. 
 
 Goldsmith's Dese&ted Village. 
 
 Mrs. Dods's conviction, that her friend Tyrrel had 
 been murdered by the sanguinary Captain MacTurk, re- 
 mained firm and unshaken ; but some researches for the 
 supposed body having been found fruitless, as well as ex- 
 pensive, she began to give up the matter in despair. 
 " She had done her duty " — " she left the matter to them 
 that had a charge anent such things " — and " Providence 
 would bring the mystery to light in his own fitting time " 
 — such were the moralities with which the good dame 
 consoled herself ; and, with less obstinacy than Mr. Bind- 
 loose had expected, she retained her opinion without 
 changing her banker and man of business. 
 
 Perhaps Meg's acquiescent inactivity in a matter which 
 she had threatened to probe so deeply, was partly owing 
 to the place of poor Tyrrel being supplied in her blue 
 chamber, and in her daily thoughts and cares, by her 
 new guest, Mr. Touchwood ; in possessing whom, a 
 deserter as he was from the Well, she obtained, ac- 
 cording to her view of the matter, a decided triumph 
 over her rivals. It sometimes required, however, the
 
 st. ronan's aa'ell. 243 
 
 full force of this reflection, to induce Meg, old and 
 crabbed as she was, to submit to the various caprices and 
 exactions of attention which were displayed by her new 
 lodger. Never any man talked so much as Touchwood, 
 of his habitual indifference to food, and accommodation in 
 travelling ; and probably there never was any traveller 
 who gave more trouble in a house of entertainment. He 
 had his own whims about cookery ; and when these were 
 contradicted, especially if he felt at the same time a 
 twinge of incipient gout, one would have thought he had 
 taken his lessons in the pastry-shop of Bedreddin Hassan, 
 and was ready to renew the scene of the unhappy cream- 
 tart, which was compounded without pepper. Every now 
 and then he started some new doctrine in culinary matters, 
 which Mrs. Dods deemed a heresy ; and then the very 
 house rang with their disputes. Again, his bed must 
 necessarily be made at a certain angle from the pillow to 
 the foot-posts ; and the slightest deviation from this dis- 
 turbed, he said, his nocturnal rest, and did certainly ruffle 
 his temper. He was equally whimsical about the brush- 
 ing of his clothes, the arrangement of the furniture in 
 his apartment, and a thousand minutiae, which, in con- 
 versation, he seemed totally to contemn. 
 
 It may seem singular, but such is the inconsistency of 
 human nature, that a guest of this fanciful and capricious 
 disposition gave much more satisfaction to Mrs. Dods, 
 than her quiet and indifferent friend, Mr. Tyrrel. If her 
 present lodger could blame, he could also applaud ; and 
 no artist, conscious of such skill as Mrs. Dods possessed, 
 is indifferent to the praises of such a connoisseur as Mr. 
 Touchwood. The pride of art comforted her for the 
 additional labour ; nor was it a matter unworthy of this 
 most honest publican's consideration, that the guests who
 
 244 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 
 
 give most trouble, are usually those who incur the largest 
 bills, and pay them with the best grace. On this point 
 Touchwood was a jewel of a customer. He never denied 
 himself the gratification of the slightest whim, whatever 
 expense he might himself incur, or whatever trouble he 
 might give to those about him ; and all was done under 
 protestation, that the matter in question was the most in- 
 different thing to him in the world. " What the devil 
 did he care for Burgess's sauces, he that had eat his 
 kouscousou, spiced with nothing but the sand of the 
 desert ? only it was a shame for Mrs. Dods to be without 
 what every decent house, above the rank of an alehouse, 
 ought to be largely provided with." 
 
 In short, he fussed, fretted, commanded, and was 
 obeyed ; kept the house in hot water, and yet was so 
 truly good-natured when essential matters were in discus- 
 sion, that it was impossible to bear him the least ill-will ; 
 so that Mrs. Dods, though in a moment of spleen she 
 sometimes wished him at the top of Tintock, always 
 ended by singing forth his praises. She could not, in- 
 deed, help suspecting that he was a Nabob, as well from 
 his conversation about foreign parts, as from his freaks 
 of indulgence to himself, and generosity to others, — at- 
 tributes, which she understood to be proper to most 
 " Men of Ind." But although the reader has heard her 
 testify a general dislike to this species of Fortune's fa- 
 vourites, Mrs. Dods had sense enough to know, that a 
 Nabob living in the neighbourhood, who raises the price 
 of eggs and poultry upon the good housewives around, 
 was very different from a Nabob residing within her own 
 gates, drawing all his supplies from her own larder, and 
 paying, without hesitation or question, whatever bills her 
 conscience permitted her to send in. In short, to come
 
 st. konan's well. 245 
 
 back to the point at which we perhaps might have stopped 
 some time since, landlady and guest were very much 
 pleased with each other. 
 
 But Ennui finds entrance into every scene, when the 
 gloss of novelty is over ; and the fiend began to seize 
 upon Mr. Touchwood just when he had got all matters 
 to his mind in the Cleikum Inn — had instructed Dame 
 Dods in the mysteries of curry and mullegatawny — ■ 
 drilled the chambermaid into the habit of making his bed 
 at the angle recommended by Sir John Sinclair — and 
 made some progress in instructing the hump-backed 
 postilion in the Arabian mode of grooming. Pamphlets 
 and newspapers, sent from London and from Edinburgh 
 by loads, proved inadequate to rout this invader of Mr. 
 Touchwood's comforts ; and, at last, he bethought him- 
 self of company. The natural resource would have been 
 the Well — but the traveller had a holy shivering of awe, 
 which crossed him at the very recollection of Lady Pe- 
 nelope, who had worked him rather hard during his 
 former brief residence ; and although Lady Binks's beauty 
 might have charmed an Asiatic, by the plump graces of 
 its contour, our senior was past the thoughts of a Sultana 
 and a haram. At length a bright idea crossed his mind, 
 and he suddenly demanded of Mrs. Dods, who was 
 pouring out his tea for breakfast, into a large cup of a 
 very particular species of china, of which he had pre- 
 sented her with a service on condition of her rendering 
 him this personal good office, — 
 
 " Pray, Mrs. Dods, what sort of a man is your min- 
 ister?" 
 
 " He's just a man like other men, Mr. Touchwood," 
 replied Meg Dods ; " what sort of a man should he be ? " 
 
 " A man like other men ? — ay — that is to say, he has
 
 246 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 
 
 the usual complement of legs and arms, eyes and ears — ■ 
 But is he a sensihle man ?" 
 
 " No muckle o' that, sir," answered Dame Dods ; " for 
 if he was drinking this very tea that ye gat doun from 
 London wi' the mail, he wad mistake it for common 
 bohea." 
 
 " Then he has not all his organs — wants a nose, or the 
 use of one at least," said Mr. Touchwood ; " the tea is 
 right gun-powder — a perfect nosegay/' 
 
 " Aweel, that may be," said the landlady ; " but I have 
 gi'en the minister a dram frae my ain best bottle of real 
 Coniac brandy, and may I never stir frae the bit, if he 
 didna commend my whisky when he set down the glass ! 
 There is no ane o' them in the Presbytery but himsell — 
 ay, or in the Synod either — but wad hae kend whisky 
 frae brandy." 
 
 " But what sort of man is he ? — Has he learaing ? " 
 demanded Touchwood. 
 
 "Learning? — aneugh o' that," answered Meg; "just 
 dung donnart wi' learning — lets a' things about the Manse 
 gang whilk gate they will, sae they dinna plague him 
 upon the score. An awfu' thing it is to see sic an 111— 
 red-up house ! If I had the twa tawpies that sorn upon 
 the honest man ae week under my drilling, I think I wad 
 show them how to sort a lodsrin": ! " 
 
 " Does he preach well ? " asked the guest. 
 
 " O, weel aneugh, weel aneugh — sometimes he will 
 fling in a lang word or a bit of learning that our farmers 
 and bannet lairds canna sae weel follow — But what of 
 that, as I am aye telling them ? — them that pay stipend 
 get aye the mair for their siller." 
 
 " Does he attend to his parish ? — Is he kind to the 
 poor ? "
 
 ST. RONAN S WELL. 247 
 
 " Ower muckle o' that, Maister Touchwood — I am sure 
 he makes the Word gude, and turns not away from those 
 that ask o' him — his very pocket is picked by a wheen 
 ne'er-do-weel blackguards, that gae sorning through the 
 country." 
 
 " Sorning through the country, Mrs. Dods ? — what 
 would you think if you had seen the Fakirs, the Der- 
 vises, the Bonzes, the Imaums, the monks, and the men- 
 dicants, that I have seen ? — But go on, never mind — 
 Does this minister of yours come much into company ? " 
 
 " Company ? — gae wa'," replied Meg, " he keeps nae 
 company at a', neither in his ain house or ony gate else. 
 He comes down in the morning in a lang ragged night- 
 gown, like a potato bogle, and down he sits amang his 
 books ; and if they dinna bring him something to eat, 
 the puir demented body has never the heart to cry for 
 aught, and he has been kend to sit for ten hours the- 
 gither, black fasting, whilk is a' mere papistrie, though 
 he does it just out o' forget." 
 
 " Why, landlady, in that case, your parson is any thing 
 but the ordinary kind of man you described him — Forget 
 his dinner ! — the man must be mad — he shall dine with 
 me to-day — he shall have such a dinner as I'll be bound 
 he won't forget in a hurry." 
 
 " Ye'll maybe find that easier said than dune," said 
 Mrs. Dods ; " the honest man hasna, in a sense, the taste 
 of his mouth — forby, he never dines out of his ain house 
 — that is, when he dines at a' — A drink of milk and a 
 bit of bread serves his turn, or maybe a cauld potato. 
 It's a heathenish fashion of him, for as good a man as 
 he is ; for surely there is nae Christian man but loves 
 his own bowels." 
 
 " Why, that may be," answered Touchwood ; " but I
 
 248 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 
 
 have known many who took so much care of their own 
 bowels, my good dame, as to have none for any one else. 
 But come — bustle to the work — get us as good a dinner 
 for two as you can set out — have it ready at three to an 
 instant — set the old hock I had sent me from Cockburn 
 — a bottle of the particular Indian Sherry — and another 
 of your own old claret — fourth binn, you know, Meg. 
 And stay, he is a priest, and must have port — have all 
 ready, but don't bring the wine into the sun, as that silly 
 fool Beck did the other day. — I can't go down to the lar- 
 der myself, but let us have no blunders." 
 
 " Nae fear, nae fear," said Meg, with a toss of the 
 head, " I need naebody to look into my larder but mysell, 
 I trow — but it's an unco order of wine for twa folk, and 
 ane o' them a minister." 
 
 " Why, you foolish person, is there not the woman up 
 the village that has just brought another fool into the 
 world, and will she not need sack and caudle, if we leave 
 some of our wine ? " 
 
 " A gude ale-posset wad set her better," said Meg ; 
 " however, if it's your will, it shall be my pleasure. But 
 the like of sic a gentleman as yoursell never entered my 
 doors ! " 
 
 The traveller was gone before she had completed the 
 sentence ; and, leaving Meg to bustle and maunder at 
 her leisure, away he marched with the haste that charac- 
 terised all his motions when he had any new project 
 in his head, to form an acquaintance with the minister 
 of St. Ronan's, whom, while he walks down the street 
 to the Manse, we will endeavour to introduce to the 
 reader. 
 
 The Rev. Josiah Cargill was the son of a small farmer 
 in the south of Scotland ; and a weak constitution, joined
 
 st. ronan's well. 249 
 
 to the disposition for study which frequently accompanies 
 infirm health, induced his parents, though at the expense 
 of some sacrifices, to educate him for the ministry. They 
 were the rather led to submit to the privations which 
 were necessary to support this expense, because they 
 conceived from their family traditions, that he had in 
 his veins some portion of the blood of that celebrated 
 Boanerges of the Covenant, Donald Cargill, who was 
 slain by the persecutors, at the town of Queensferry, in 
 the melancholy days of Charles II., merely because in 
 the plenitude of his sacerdotal power, he had cast out 
 of the church, and delivered over to Satan by a formal 
 excommunication, the King and Royal family, with all 
 the ministers and courtiers thereunto belonging. But if 
 Josiah was really derived from this uncompromising 
 champion, the heat of the family spirit which he might 
 have inherited was qualified by the sweetness of his own 
 disposition, and the quiet temper of the times in which 
 he had the good fortune to live. He was characterised 
 by all who knew him as a mild, gentle, and studious lover 
 of learning, who, in the quiet prosecution of his own sole 
 object, the acquisition of knowledge, and especially of 
 that connected with his profession, had the utmost indul- 
 gence for all whose pursuits were different from his own. 
 His sole relaxations were those of a gentle, mild, and 
 pensive temper, and were limited to a ramble, almost 
 always solitary, among the woods and hills, in praise of 
 which he was sometimes guilty of a sonnet, but rather 
 because he could not help the attempt, than as proposing 
 to himself the fame or the rewards which attend the 
 successful poet. Indeed, far from seeking to insinuate 
 his fugitive pieces into magazines or newspapers, he 
 blushed at his poetical attempts even while alone, and,
 
 250 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 
 
 in fact, was rarely so indulgent to bis vein as to commit 
 them to paper. 
 
 From the same maid-like modesty of disposition, our 
 student suppressed a strong natural turn towards dravvm , 
 although he was repeatedly complimented upon the few 
 sketches which he made, by some whose judgment was 
 generally admitted. It was, however, this neglected 
 talent, which, like the swift feet of the stag in the fable, 
 was fated to render him a service which he might in vain 
 have expected from his worth and learning. 
 
 My Lord Bidmore, a distinguished connoisseur, chanced 
 to be in search of a private tutor for his son and heir, the 
 Honourable Augustus Bidmore, and for this purpose had 
 consulted the Professor of Theology, who passed before 
 him in review several favourite students, any of whom 
 he conceived well suited for the situation ; but still his 
 answer to the important and unlooked-for question, " Did 
 the candidate understand drawing ? " was in the negative. 
 The Professor, indeed, added his opinion, that such an 
 accomplishment was neither to be desired nor expected 
 in a student of theology ; but pressed hard with this con- 
 dition as a sine qua non, he at length did remember a 
 dreaming lad about the Hall, who seldom could be got to 
 speak above his breath, even when delivering his essays, 
 but was said to have a strong turn for drawing. This 
 was enough for my Lord Bidmore, who contrived to 
 obtain a sight of some of young Cargill's sketches, and 
 was satisfied that, under such a tutor, his son could not 
 fail to maintain that character for hereditary taste which 
 his father and grandfather had acquired at the expense 
 of a considerable estate, the representative value of which 
 was now the painted canvas in the great gallery at Bid- 
 more House.
 
 ST. ronan's well. 251 
 
 Upon following up the inquiry concerning the young 
 man's character, he was found to possess all the other 
 necessary qualifications of learning and morals, in a 
 greater degree than perhaps Lord Bidmore might have 
 required ; and, to the astonishment of his fellow-students, 
 but more especially to his ow r n, Josiah Cargill was pro- 
 moted to the desired and desirable situation of private 
 tutor to the Honourable Mr. Bidmore. 
 
 Mr. Cargill did his duty ably and conscientiously, by a 
 spoiled though good-humoured lad, of weak health and 
 very ordinary parts. He could not, indeed, inspire into 
 him any portion of the deep and noble enthusiasm which 
 characterises the youth of genius ; but his pupil made 
 such progress in each branch of his studies as his capacity 
 enabled him to attain. He understood the learned lan- 
 guages, and could be very profound on the subject of 
 various readings — he pursued science, and could class 
 shells, pack mosses, and arrange minerals — he drew with- 
 out taste, but with much accuracy ; and although he 
 attained no commanding height in any pursuit, he knew 
 enough of many studies, literary and scientific, to fill up 
 his time, and divert from temptation a head, which was 
 none of the strongest in point of resistance. 
 
 Miss Augusta Bidmore, his lordship's only other child, 
 received also the instructions of Cargill in such branches 
 of science as her father chose she should acquire, and her 
 tutor was capable to teach. But her progress was as 
 different from that of her brother, as the fire of heaven 
 differs from that grosser element which the peasant piles 
 upon his smouldering hearth. Her acquirements in 
 Italian and Spanish literature, in history, in drawing, and 
 in all elegant learning, were such as to enchant her 
 teacher, while at the same time it kept him on the stretch,
 
 252 V\ AVERLEY NOVELS. 
 
 lest, in her successful career, the scholar should outstrip 
 the master- 
 Alas ! such intercourse, fraught as it is with dangers 
 arising out of the best and kindest, as well as the most 
 natural feelings on either side, proved in the present, as 
 in many other instances, fatal to the peace of the pre- 
 ceptor. Every feeling heart will excuse a weakness, 
 which we shall presently find carried with it its own 
 severe punishment. Cadenus, indeed, believe him who 
 will, has assured us, that, in such a perilous intercourse, 
 he himself preserved the limits which were unhappily 
 transgressed by the unfortunate Vanessa, his more im- 
 passioned pupil : — 
 
 '' The innocent delight he took 
 To see the virgin mind her book, 
 Was but the master's secret joy, 
 In school to hear the finest boy." 
 
 But Josiah Cargill was less fortunate, or less cautious. 
 He suffered his fair pupil to become inexpressibly dear 
 to him, before he discovered the precipice towards which 
 he was moving under the direction of a blind and mis- 
 placed passion. He was indeed utterly incapable of 
 availing himself of the opportunities afforded by his 
 situation, to involve his pupil in the toils of a mutual 
 passion. Honour and gratitude alike forbade such a line 
 of conduct even had it been consistent with the natural 
 bashfulness, simplicity, and innocence of his disposition. 
 To sigh and suffer in secret, to form resolutions of sepa- 
 rating himself from a situation so fraught with danger, 
 and to postpone from day to day the accomplishment of a 
 resolution so prudent, was all to which the tutor found 
 himself equal ; and it is not improbable, that the venera- 
 tion with which he regarded his patron's daughter, with
 
 ST. ROXAx's WELL. 253 
 
 the utter hopelessness of the passion which he nourished, 
 tended to render his love yet more pure and disinterested. 
 
 At length the line of conduct which reason had long 
 since recommended, could no longer be the subject of 
 procrastination. Mr. Bidmore was destined to foreign 
 travel for a twelvemonth, and Mr. Cargill received from 
 his patron the alternative of accompanying his pupil, or 
 retiring upon a suitable provision, the reward of his past 
 instructions. It can hardly be doubted which he pre- 
 ferred ; for while he was with young Bidmore, he did 
 not seem entirely separated from his sister. He was 
 sure to hear of Augusta frequently, and to see some part, 
 at least, of the letters which she was to write to her 
 brother ; he might also hope to be remembered in these 
 letters as her " good friend and tutor ; " and to these 
 consolations his quiet, contemplative, and yet enthusiastic 
 disposition, clung as to a secret source of pleasure, the 
 only one which life seemed to open to him. 
 
 But fate had a blow in store, which he had not antici- 
 pated. The chance of Augusta changing her maiden 
 condition for that of a wife, probable as her rank, beauty, 
 and fortune rendered such an event, had never once 
 occurred to him ; and although he had imposed upon 
 himself the unwavering belief that she never could be his, 
 he was inexpressibly affected by the intelligence that she 
 had become the property of another. 
 
 The honourable Mr. Bidmore's letters to his father 
 soon after announced that poor Mr. Cargill had been 
 seized with a nervous fever, and again, that his recon- 
 valescence was attended with so much debility, it seemed 
 both of mind and body, as entirely to destroy his utility 
 as a travelling companion. Shortly after this the travel- 
 lers separated, and Cargill returned to his native country
 
 254 WAVEULEY NOVELS. 
 
 alone, indulging upon the road in a melancholy abstrac- 
 tion of mind, which he had suffered to grow upon him 
 since the menial shock which lie had sustained, and 
 which in time became the most characteristical feature of 
 his demeanour. His meditations were not even disturbed 
 by any anxiety about his future subsistence, although the 
 cessation of his employment seemed to render that pre- 
 carious. For this, however, Lord Bidmore had made 
 provision ; for, though a coxcomb where the fine arts 
 were concerned, he was in other particulars a just and 
 honourable man, who felt a sincere pride in having drawn 
 the talents of Cargill from obscurity, and entertained due 
 gratitude for the manner in which he had achieved the 
 important task intrusted to him in his family. 
 
 His lordship had privately purchased from the Mow- 
 bray family the patronage or advowson of the living of 
 St. Ronan's, then held by a very old incumbent, who died 
 shortly afterwards ; so that upon arriving in England he 
 found himself named to the vacant living. So indifferent, 
 however, did Cargill feel himself towards this preferment, 
 that he might possibly not have taken the trouble to go 
 through the necessary steps previous to his ordination, 
 had it not been on account of his mother, now a widow, 
 and unprovided for, unless by the support which he 
 afforded her. He visited her in her small retreat in the 
 suburbs of Marchthorn, heard her pour out her gratitude 
 to Heaven, that she should have been granted life long 
 enough to witness her son's pi-omotion to a charge, which, 
 in her eyes, was more honourable and desirable than an 
 Episcopal see — heard her chalk out the life which they 
 were to lead together in the humble independence which 
 had thus fallen on him — he heard all this, and had no 
 power to crush her hopes and her triumph by the indul-
 
 st. ronan's well. 255 
 
 gence of his own romantic feelings. He passed almost 
 mechanically through the usual forms, and was inducted 
 into the living of St. Ronan's. 
 
 Although fanciful and romantic, it was not in Josiah 
 Cargill's nature to yield to unavailing melancholy ; yet he 
 sought relief, not in society, hut in solitary study. His 
 seclusion was the more complete, that his mother, whose 
 education had been as much confined as her fortunes, felt 
 awkward under her new dignities, and willingly acqui- 
 esced in her son's secession from society, and spent her 
 whole time in superintending the little household, and in 
 her way providing for all emergencies, the occurrence of 
 which might call Josiah out of his favourite book-room. 
 As old age rendered her inactive, she began to regret the 
 incapacity of her son to superintend his own household, 
 and talked something of matrimony, and the mysteries of 
 the muckle wheel. To these admonitions Mr. Cargill 
 returned only slight and evasive answers ; and when the 
 old lady slept in the village churchyard, at a reverend old 
 age, there was no one to perform the office of superin- 
 tendent in the minister's family. Neither did Josiah 
 Cargill seek for any, but patiently submitted to all the 
 evils with which a bachelor estate is attended, and which 
 were at least equal to those which beset the renowned 
 Mago-Pico during his state of celibacy.* His butter was 
 
 * This satire, very popular even in Scotland, at least with one party, 
 ■was composed at the expense of a reverend presbyterian divine, of 
 whom many stories are preserved, being Mr. Pyet, the Mago-Pico of 
 the tale, minister of Dunbar. The work is now little known in Scot- 
 land, and not at all in England, though written with much strong and 
 coarse humour, resembling the style of Arbuthnot. It was composed 
 by Mr. Haliburton, a military chaplain. The distresses attending 
 Mago-Pico's bachelor life, are thus stated: — 
 
 " At the same time I desire you will only figure out to yourself 
 his situation during his celibacy in the ministerial charge — a house
 
 25G AVAVERLEY NOVELS. 
 
 ill churned, and declared by all but himself and the quean 
 who made it, altogether uneatable ; his milk was burnt in 
 the pan, his fruit and vegetables were stolen, and his 
 black stockings mended with blue and white thread. 
 
 For all these things the minister cared not, his mind 
 ever bent upon far different matters. Do not let my fair 
 readers do Josiah more than justice, # or suppose that, like 
 Beltenebros in the desert, he remained for years, the vic- 
 tim of an unfortunate and misplaced passion. No — to 
 the shame of the male sex be it spoken, that no degree 
 of hopeless love, however desperate and sincere, can ever 
 continue for years to imbitter life. There must be hope 
 — there must be uncertainty — there must be reciprocity, 
 to enable the tyrant of the soul to secure a dominion of 
 very long duration over a manly and well-constituted 
 mind, which is itself desirous to will its freedom. The 
 memory of Augusta had long faded from Josiah's thoughts, 
 or was remembered only as a pleasing, but melancholy 
 and unsubstantial dream, while he was straining forward 
 
 lying all heaps upon heaps; his bed ill-made, swarming with fleas, 
 and very cold on the winter nights; his sheep's-head not to be eaten 
 for wool and hair, his broth singed, his bread mouldy, his lamb and 
 pig all scouthered, his house neither washed nor plastered; his black 
 stockings darned with white worsted above the shoes; his butter made 
 into cat's harns; his cheese one heap of mites and maggots, and full 
 of large avenues for rats and mice to play at hide-and-seek and make 
 their nests in. Frequent were the admonitions he had given his 
 maidservants on this score, and every now and then he was turning 
 them off; but still the last was the worst, and in the meanwhile the 
 poor man was the sufferer. At any rate, therefore, matrimony must 
 turn to his account, though his wife should prove to be nothing but a 
 creatui'e of the feminine gender, with a tongue in her head, and ten 
 fingers on her hands, to clear out the papers of the housemaid, not to 
 mention the convenience of a man's having it in his power lawfully to 
 beget sons and daughters in his own house." — Memoirs of Mago-Pico. 
 Second Edition. Edinburgh, 1761, p. 19.
 
 st. ronan's well. 257 
 
 in pursuit of a yet nobler and coyer mistress, in a word, 
 of Knowledge herself. 
 
 Every hour that he could spare from his parochial du- 
 ties, which he discharged with zeal honourable to his heart 
 and head, was devoted to his studies, and spent among his 
 books. But this chase of wisdom, though in itself inter- 
 esting and dignified, was indulged to an excess which di- 
 minished the respectability, nay, the utility, of the de- 
 ceived student; and he forgot, amid the luxury of deep 
 and dark investigations, that society has its claims, and 
 that the knowledge which is unimparted, is necessarily a 
 barren talent, and is lost to society, like the miser's con- 
 cealed hoard, by the death of the proprietor. His studies 
 were also under the additional disadvantage, that, being 
 pursued for the gratification of a desultory longing after 
 knowledge, and directed to no determined object, they 
 turned on points rather curious than useful, and while 
 they served for the amusement of the student himself, 
 promised little utility to mankind at large. 
 
 Bewildered amid abstruse researches, metaphysical and 
 historical, Mr. Cargill, living only for himself and his 
 books, acquired many ludicrous habits, which exposed the 
 secluded student to the ridicule of the world, and which 
 tinged, though they did not altogether obscure, the natu- 
 ral civility of an amiable disposition, as well as the ac- 
 quired habits of politeness which he had learned in the 
 good society that frequented Lord Bidmore's mansion. 
 He not only indulged in neglect of dress and appearance, 
 and all those ungainly tricks, which men are apt to ac- 
 quire by living very much alone, but besides, and espe- 
 cially, he became probably the most abstracted and absent 
 man of a profession peculiarly liable to cherish such hab- 
 its. No man fell so regularly into the painful dilemma 
 vol. xxxiii. 17
 
 258 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 
 
 of mistaking, or, in Scottish phrase, miskenning, the per- 
 son he spoke to, or more frequently inquired of an old 
 maid for her husband, of a childless wife about her 
 young people, of the distressed widower for the spouse at 
 whose funeral he himself had assisted but a fortnight be- 
 fore ; and none was ever more familiar with strangers 
 whom he had never seen, or seemed more estranged from 
 those who had a title to think themselves well known to 
 him. The worthy man perpetually confounded sex, age, 
 and calling ; and when a blind beggar extended his hand 
 for charity, he has been known to return the civility by 
 taking off his hat, making a low bow, and hoping his 
 worship was well. 
 
 Among his brethren, Mr. Cargill alternately com- 
 manded respect by the depth of his erudition, and gave 
 occasion to laughter from his odd peculiarities. On the 
 latter occasions he used abruptly to withdraw from the 
 ridicule he had provoked ; for notwithstanding the gen- 
 eral mildness of his character, his solitary habits had 
 engendered a testy impatience of contradiction, and a 
 keener sense of pain arising from the satire of others, 
 than was natural to his unassuming disposition. As for 
 his parishioners, they enjoyed, as may reasonably be sup- 
 posed, many a hearty laugh at their pastor's expense, and 
 were sometimes, as Mrs. Dods hinted, more astonished 
 than edified by his learning ; for in pursuing a point of 
 biblical criticism, he did not altogether remember that he 
 w r as addressing a popular and unlearned assembly, not 
 delivering a concio ad clerum — a mistake, not arising 
 from any conceit of his learning, or wish to display it, 
 but from the same absence of mind which induced an ex- 
 cellent divine, when preaching before a party of criminals 
 condemned to death, to break off" by promising the
 
 ST. ROXAX'S WELL. 259 
 
 wretches, who were to suffer next morning, " the rest of 
 the discourse at the first proper opportunity." But all 
 the neighbourhood acknowledged Mr. Cargill's serious 
 and devout discharge of his ministerial duties ; and the 
 poorer parishioners forgave his innocent peculiarities, in 
 consideration of his unbounded charity ; while the heri- 
 tors, if they ridiculed the abstractions of Mr. Cargill on 
 some subjects, had the grace to recollect that they had 
 prevented him from suing an augmentation of stipend, 
 according to the fashion of the clergy around him, or from 
 demanding at their hands a new manse, or the repair of 
 the old one. He once, indeed, wished that they would 
 amend the roof of his book room, which " rained in," * 
 in a very pluvious manner ; but receiving no direct answer 
 from our friend Meiklewham, who neither relished the 
 proposal nor saw means of eluding it, the minister qui- 
 etly made the necessary repairs at his own expense, and 
 gave the heritors no farther trouble on the subject. 
 
 Such was the worthy divine whom our bon vivant at 
 the Cleikum Inn hoped to conciliate by a good dinner and 
 Cockburn's particular ; an excellent menstruum in most 
 cases, but not likely to be very efficacious on the present 
 occasion. 
 
 * Scollice, for " admitted the rain."
 
 260 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 THE ACQUAINTANCE. 
 
 'Twist us thug the difference trims: — 
 Using head instead of limbs, 
 
 You have read what I have seen ; 
 Using limbs instead of head, 
 I have seen what you have read — 
 
 Which way does the balance lean? 
 
 Butler. 
 
 Our traveller, rapid in all his resolutions and motions, 
 strode stoutly down the street, and arrived at the Manse, 
 which was, as we have already described it, all but abso- 
 lutely ruinous. The total desolation and want of order 
 about the door would have argued the place uninhabited, 
 had it not been for two or three miserable tubs with suds, 
 or such like sluttish contents, which were left there, that 
 those who broke their shins among them might receive a 
 sensible proof, that " here the hand of woman had been." 
 The door being half ofT its hinges, the entrance was for 
 the time protected by a broken harrow, which must nec- 
 essarily be removed before entry could be obtained. The 
 little garden which might have given an air of comfort to 
 the old house had it been kept in any order, was aban- 
 doned to a desolation, of which that of the sluggard was 
 only a type ; and the minister's man, an attendant always 
 proverbial for doing half work, and who seemed in the
 
 ST. ronan's well. 261 
 
 present instance to do none, was seen among docks and 
 nettles, solacing himself with the few gooseberries which 
 remained on some moss-grown bushes. To him Mr. 
 Touchwood called loudly, inquiring after his master ; but 
 the clown, conscious of being taken in flagrant delict, as 
 the law says, fled from him like a guilty thing, instead of 
 obeying his summons, and was soon heard hupping and 
 geeing to the cart, which he had left on the other side of 
 the broken wall. 
 
 Disappointed in his application to the man-servant, 
 Mr. Touchwood knocked with his cane, at first gently, 
 then harder, hollowed, bellowed, and shouted, in the hope 
 of calling the attention of some one within doors, but 
 received not a word in reply. At length, thinking that 
 no trespass could be committed upon so forlorn and de- 
 serted an establishment, he removed the obstacles to 
 entrance with such a noise as he thought must neces- 
 sarily have alarmed some one, if there was any live 
 person about the house at all. All was still silent ; and, 
 entering a passage where the damp walls and broken 
 flags corresponded to the appearance of things out of 
 doors, he opened a door to the left, which, wonderful to 
 say, still had a latch remaining, and found himself in the 
 parlour, and in the presence of the person whom he came 
 to visit. 
 
 Amid a heap of books and other literary lumber, 
 which had accumulated around him, sat, in his well-worn 
 leathern elbow-chair, the learned minister of St. Ronan's ; 
 a thin, spare man, beyond the middle age, of a dark com- 
 plexion, but with eyes which, though now obscured and 
 vacant, had been once bright, soft, and expressive, and 
 whose features seemed interesting, the rather that, not- 
 with>tanding the carelessness of his dress, he was in the
 
 262 WAVERLET NOVELS. 
 
 habit of performing his ablutions with Eastern precision ; 
 for he had forgot neatness, but not cleanliness. His hair 
 might have appeared much more disorderly, had it. not 
 been thinned by time, and disposed chiefly around the 
 sides of his countenance and the back part of his head ; 
 black stockings, ungartered, marked his professional dress, 
 and his feet were thrust into the old slip-shod shoes, which 
 served him instead of slippers. The rest of his gar- 
 ments, so far as visible, consisted in a plaid nightgown 
 wrapt in long folds round his stooping and emaciated 
 length of body, and reaching down to the slippers afore- 
 said. He was so intently engaged in studying the book 
 before him, a folio of no ordinary bulk, that he totally 
 disregarded the noise which Mr. Touchwood made in en- 
 tering the room, as well as the coughs and hems with 
 which he thought it proper to announce his presence. 
 
 No notice being taken of these inarticulate signals, Mr. 
 Touchwood, however great an enemy he was to ceremony, 
 saw the necessity of introducing his business, as an 
 apology for his intrusion. 
 
 " Hem ! sir — Ha, hem ! — You see before you a person 
 in some distress for want of society, who has taken the 
 liberty to call on you as a good pastor, who may be, in 
 Christian charity, willing to afford him a little of your 
 company, since he is tired of his own." 
 
 Of this speech Mr. Cargill only understood the words 
 " distress " and " charity," sounds with which he was well 
 acquainted, and which never failed to produce some effect 
 on him. He looked at his visitor with lack-lustre eye, and 
 without correcting the first opinion which he had formed, 
 although the stranger's plump and sturdy frame, as well 
 as his nicely-brushed coat, glancing cane, and, above all, 
 his upright and self-satisfied manner, resembled in no
 
 st. ronan's well. 2G3 
 
 respect the dress, form, or bearing of a mendicant, he 
 quietly thrust a shilling into his hand, and relapsed into 
 the studious contemplation which the entrance of Touch- 
 wood had interrupted. 
 
 " Upon my word, my good sir," said his visitor, sur- 
 prised at a degree of absence of mind which he could 
 hardly have conceived possible, " you have entirely mis- 
 taken my object." 
 
 " I am sorry my mite is insufficient, my friend," said 
 the clergyman, without again raising his eyes, " it is all I 
 have at present to bestow." 
 
 " If you will have the kindness to look up for a mo- 
 ment, my good sir," said the traveller, " you may possibly 
 perceive that you labour under a considerable mistake." 
 
 Mr. Cargill raised his head, recalled his attention, and, 
 seeing that he had a well-dressed, respectable-looking 
 person before him, he exclaimed in much confusion, " Ha ! 
 — yes — on my word, I was so immersed in my book — I 
 believe — I think I have the pleasure to see my worthy 
 friend, Mr. Lavender ? " 
 
 " No such thing, Mr. Cargill," replied Mr. Touchwood. 
 " I will save you the trouble of trying to recollect me — 
 you never saw me before. — But do not let me disturb 
 your studies — I am in no hurry, and my business can 
 wait your leisure." 
 
 " I am much obliged," said Mr. Cargill ; " have the 
 goodness to take a chair, if you can find one — I have a 
 train of thought to recover — a slight calculation to finish 
 — and then I am at your command." 
 
 The visitor found among the broken furniture, not 
 without difficulty, a seat strong enough to support his 
 weight, and sat down, resting upon liis cane, and looking 
 attentively at his host, who very soon became totally in-
 
 264 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 
 
 sensible of his presence. A long pause of total silence 
 ensued, only disturbed by the rustling leaves of the folio 
 from which Mr. Cargill seemed to be making extracts, 
 and now and then by a little exclamation of surprise and 
 impatience, when he dipped his pen, as happened once or 
 twice, into his snuff-box, instead of the ink-standish which 
 stood beside it. At length, just as Mr. Touchwood began 
 to think the scene as tedious as it was singular, the ab- 
 stracted student raised his head, and spoke as if in solilo- 
 quy, " From Aeon, Accor, or St. John d'Acre, to Jerusa- 
 lem, how far?" 
 
 " Twenty -three miles north north-west," answered his 
 visitor, without hesitation. 
 
 Mr. Cargill expressed no more surprise at a question 
 which he had put to himself being answered by the voice 
 of another, than if he had found the distance on the map, 
 and, indeed, was not probably aware of the medium 
 through which his question had been solved ; and it was 
 the tenor of the answer alone which he attended to in 
 his reply. — " Twenty-three miles — Ingulphus," laying his 
 hand on the volume, " and Jeffrey Winesauf do not agree 
 in this." 
 
 " They may both be d — d, then, for lying blockheads," 
 answered the. traveller. 
 
 " You might have contradicted their authority, sir, with- 
 out using such an expression," said the divine, gravely. 
 
 " I cry you mercy, Doctor," said Mr. Touchwood ; 
 " but would you compare these parchment fellows with 
 me, that have made my legs my compasses over great 
 part of the inhabited world ? " 
 
 " You have been in Palestine, then ? " said Mr. Car- 
 gill, drawing himself upright in his chair, and speaking 
 with eagerness and with interest.
 
 st. roxan's well. 265 
 
 " You may swear that, Doctor, and at Acre too. Why, 
 I was there the month after Boney had found it too hard 
 a nut to crack. — I dined with Sir Sydney's chum, old 
 Djezzar Pacha, and an excellent dinner we had, but for 
 a dessert of noses and ears brought on after the last 
 remove, which spoiled my digestion. Old Djezzar thought 
 it so good a joke, that you hardly saw a man in Acre 
 whose face was not as flat as the palm of my hand — Gad, 
 I respect my olfactory organ, and set off the next morn- 
 ing as fast as the most cursed hard-trotting dromedary 
 that ever fell to poor pilgrim's lot could contrive to 
 tramp." 
 
 " If you have really been in the Holy Land, sir," said 
 Mr. Cargill, whom the reckless gaiety of Touchwood's 
 manner rendered somewhat suspicious of a trick, " you 
 will be able materially to enlighten me on the subject 
 of the Crusades." 
 
 " They happened before my time, Doctor," replied the 
 traveller. 
 
 " You are to understand that my curiosity refers to the 
 geography of the countries where these events took 
 place," answered Mr. Cargill. 
 
 •• O ! as to that matter, you are lighted on your feet," 
 said Mr. Touchwood ; " for the time present I can fit 
 you. Turk, Arab, Copt, and Druse, I know every one 
 of them, and can make you as well acquainted with them 
 as myself. Without stirring a step beyond your thresh- 
 old, you shall know Syria as well as I do. — But one good 
 turn deserves another — in that case, you must have the 
 goodness to dine with me." 
 
 " I go seldom abroad, sir," said the minister, with a 
 good deal of hesitation, for his habits of solitude and 
 seclusion could not be entirely overcome, even by the
 
 2G6 WAVEKLEY NOVELS. 
 
 expectation raised by the traveller's discourse ; " yet I 
 cannot deny myself the pleasure of waiting on a gentle- 
 man possessed of so much experience." 
 
 " Well, then," said Mr. Touchwood, " three be the 
 hour — I never dine later, and always to a minute — and 
 the place, the Cleikum Inn, up the way ; where Mrs. 
 Dods is at this moment busy in making ready such a 
 dinner as your learning has seldom seen, Doctor, for I 
 brought the receipts from the four different quarters of 
 the globe." 
 
 Upon tins treaty they parted ; and Mr. Cargill, after 
 musing for a short while upon the singular chance which 
 had sent a living man to answer those doubts, for which 
 he was in vain consulting ancient authorities, at length 
 resumed, by degrees, the train of reflection and investiga- 
 tion which Mr. Touchwood's visit had interrupted, and in 
 a short time lost all recollection of his episodical visitor, 
 and of the engagement which he had formed. 
 
 Not so Mr. Touchwood, who, when not occupied with 
 business of real importance, had the art, as the reader 
 may have observed, to make a prodigious fuss about 
 nothing at all. Upon the present occasion, he bustled in 
 and out of the kitchen, till Mrs. Dods lost patience, and 
 threatened to pin the dishclout to his tail ; a menace 
 which he pardoned, in consideration, that in all the 
 countries which he had visited, which are sufficiently 
 civilized to boast of cooks, these artists, toiling in their 
 fiery element, have a privilege to be testy and impatient. 
 He therefore retreated from the torrid region of Mrs. 
 Dods's microcosm, and employed his time in the usual 
 devices of loiterers, partly by walking for an appetite, 
 partly by observing the progress of his watch towards 
 three o'clock, when he had happily succeeded in getting
 
 ST. ROXAN S WELL. 267 
 
 an employment more serious. His table, in the blue 
 parlour, was displayed with two covers, after the fairest 
 fashion of the Cleikum Inn ; yet the landlady, with a 
 look " civil but sly," contrived to insinuate a doubt 
 whether the clergyman would come, " when a' was 
 dune." 
 
 Mr. Touchwood scorned to listen to such an insinuation 
 until the fated hour arrived, and brought with it no Mr. 
 Cargill. The impatient entertainer allowed five minutes 
 for difference of clocks, and variation of time, and other 
 five for the procrastination of one who went little into 
 society. But no sooner were the last five minutes ex- 
 pended than he darted off for the Manse, not, indeed, 
 much like a greyhouud or a deer, but with the momentum 
 of a corpulent and well-appetized elderly gentleman, who 
 is in haste to secure his dinner. He bounced without 
 ceremony into the parlour, where he found the worthy 
 divine clothed in the same plaid nightgown, and seated 
 in the very elbow-chair, in which he had left him 
 five hours before. His sudden entrance recalled to Mr. 
 Cargill, not an accurate, but something of a general re- 
 collection, of what had passed in the morning, and he 
 hastened to apologize with " Ha ! — indeed — already ? — 
 upon my word, Mr. A — a — , I mean my dear friend — I 
 am afraid I have used you ill — I forgot to order any 
 dinner — but we will do our best. — Eppie — Eppie ! " 
 
 Not at the first, second, nor third call, but ex intervallo, 
 as the lawyers express it, Eppie, a bare-legged, shock- 
 headed, thick-ankled, red-armed wench, entered, and an- 
 nounced her presence by an emphatic " what's your 
 wull ? " 
 
 " Have you got any thing in the house for dinner, 
 Eppie ? "
 
 2G8 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 
 
 " Naething but bread and milk, plenty o't — what should 
 I have ? " 
 
 " You see, sir," said Mr. Cargill, " you are like to 
 have a Pythagorean entertainment ; but you are a travel- 
 ler, and have doubtless been in your time thankful for 
 bread and milk." 
 
 " But never when there was any thing better to be 
 had," said Mr. Touchwood. " Come, Doctoi*, I beg your 
 pardon, but your wits are fairly gone a wool-gathering ; 
 it was /invited you to dinner, up at the Inn yonder, not 
 you me." 
 
 " On my word, and so it was," said Mr. Cargill ; " I 
 knew I was quite right — I knew there was a dinner 
 engagement betwixt us, I was sure of that, and that is 
 the main point. — Come, sir, I wait upon you." 
 
 " Will you not first change your dress ? " said the 
 visitor, seeing with astonishment that the divine proposed 
 to attend him in his plaid nightgown ; " why, we shall 
 have all the boys in the village after us — you will look 
 like an owl in sunshine, and they will flock round you 
 like so many hedge-sparrows." 
 
 " I will get my clothes instantly," said the worthy 
 clergyman ; " I will get ready directly — I am really 
 ashamed to keep you waiting, my dear Mr. — eh — eh — 
 your name has this instant escaped me." 
 
 " It is Touchwood, sir, at your service ; I do not 
 believe you ever heard it before," answered the trav- 
 eller. 
 
 " True — right — no more I have — well, my good Mr. 
 Touchstone, will you sit down an instant until we see 
 what we can do ? — strange slaves we make ourselves to 
 these bodies of ours, Mr. Touchstone — the clothing and 
 the sustaining of them costs us much thought and leisure,
 
 ST. RONAN'S WELL. 269 
 
 which might be better employed in catering for the wants 
 of our immortal spirits." 
 
 Mr. Touchwood thought in his heart that never had 
 Bramin or Gymnosophist less reason to reproach him- 
 self with excess in the indulgence of the table, or of the 
 toilette, than the sage before him ; but he assented to the 
 doctrine, as he would have done to any minor heresy, 
 rather than protract matters by farther discussing the 
 point at present. In a short time the minister was 
 dressed in his Sunday's suit, without any farther mistake 
 than turning one of his black stockings inside out ; and 
 Mr. Touchwood, happy as was Boswell when he carried 
 off Dr. Johnson in triumph to dine with Strahan and 
 John Wilkes, had the pleasure of escorting him to the 
 Cleikum Inn. 
 
 In the course of the afternoon they became more 
 familiar, and the familiarity led to their forming a con- 
 siderable estimate of each other's powers and acquire- 
 ments. It is true, the traveller thought the student too 
 pedantic, too much attached to systems, which, formed in 
 solitude, he was unwilling to renounce, even when con- 
 tradicted by the voice and testimony of experience ; and, 
 moreover, considered his utter inattention to the quality 
 of what he ate and drank, as unworthy of a rational, that 
 is, of a cooking creature, or of a being who, as defined by 
 Johnson, holds his dinner as the most important business 
 of the day. Cargill did not act up to this definition, and 
 was, therefore, in the eyes of his new acquaintance, so 
 far ignorant and uncivilized. What then ? He was still 
 a sensible, intelligent man, however abstemious and 
 bookish. 
 
 On the other hand, the divine could not help regarding 
 his new friend as something of an epicure or belly-god,
 
 270 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 
 
 nor could he observe in him either the perfect education, 
 or the polished bearing, which mark the gentleman of 
 rank, and of which, while he mingled with the world, he 
 had become a competent judge. Neither did it escape 
 him, that in the catalogue of Mr. Touchwood's defects, 
 occurred that of many travellers, a slight disposition to 
 exaggerate his own personal adventures, and to prose 
 concerning his own exploits. But then, his acquaintance 
 with Eastern manners, existing now in the same state in 
 which they were found during the time of the Crusades, 
 formed a living commentary on the works of William of 
 Tyre, Raymund of Saint Giles, the Moslem annals of 
 Abulfaragi, and other historians of the dark period, with 
 which his studies were at present occupied. 
 
 A friendship, a companionship at least, was therefore 
 struck up hastily betwixt these two originals ; and to the 
 astonishment of the whole parish of St. Ronan's, the 
 minister thereof was seen once more leagued and united 
 with an individual of his species, generally called among 
 them the Cleikum Nabob. Their intercourse sometimes 
 consisted in long walks, which they took in company, 
 traversing, however, as limited a space of ground, as if it 
 had been actually roped in for their pedestrian exercise. 
 Their parade was, according to circumstances, a low 
 haugh at the nether end of the ruinous hamlet, or the 
 esplanade in front of the old castle ; and, in either case, 
 the direct longitude of their promenade never exceeded a 
 hundred yards. Sometimes, but rarely, the divine took 
 share of Mr. Touchwood's meal, though less splendidly 
 set forth than when he was first invited to partake of it; 
 for, like the unostentatious owner of the gold cup in 
 Parnell's Hermit, 
 
 " Still he welcomed, but with less of cost."
 
 st. ronan's well. 271 
 
 On these occasions, the conversation was not of the 
 regular and compacted nature which passes betwixt men, 
 as they are ordinarily termed, of this world. On the 
 contrary, the one party was often thinking of Saladin and 
 Coeur de Lion, when the other was haranguing on Hyder 
 Ali and Sir Eyre Coote. Still, however, the one spoke, 
 and the other seemed to listen ; and, perhaps, the lighter 
 intercourse of society, where amusement is the sole 
 object, can scarcely rest on a safer and more secure 
 basis. 
 
 It was on one of the evenings when the learned divine 
 had taken his place at Mr. Touchwood's social board, or 
 rather at Mrs. Dods's, — for a cup of excellent tea, the 
 only luxury which Mr. Cargill continued to partake of 
 with some complacence, was the regale before them — 
 that a card was delivered to the Nabob. 
 
 " Mr. and Miss Mowbray see company at Shaws-Castle 
 on the twentieth current, at two o'clock — dejeuner — 
 dresses in character admitted — A dramatic picture." — 
 " See company ? the more fools they," he continued, 
 by way of comment. " See company ? — choice phrases 
 are ever commendable — and this piece of pasteboard is 
 to intimate that one may go and meet all the fools of the 
 parish, if they have a mind — in my time they asked the 
 honour, or the pleasure, of a stranger's company. I sup- 
 pose, by and by, we shall have in this country the cere- 
 monial of a Bedouin's tent, where every ragged Hadgi, 
 with his green turban, comes in slap without leave asked, 
 and lias his black paw among the rice, with no other 
 apology than Salam Alicum. — ' Dresses in character — 
 Dramatic picture ' — what new tomfoolery can that be ? — 
 but it does not signify. — Doctor ! I say, Doctor ! — but he 
 is in the seventh heaven — I say, Mother Dods, you who
 
 272 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 
 
 know all the news — Is this the feast that was put off 
 until Miss Mowbray should be better?" 
 
 "Troth is it, Maister Touchwood — they ai'e no in the 
 way of giving twa entertainments in one season — no very 
 wise to gie ane maybe — but they ken best." 
 
 " I say, Doctor, Doctor ! — Bless his five wits, he is 
 charging the Moslemah with stout King Richard — I say, 
 Doctor, do you know any thing of these Mowbrays ? " 
 
 " Nothing extremely particular," answered Mr. Cargill, 
 after a pause ; " it is an ordinary tale of greatness, which 
 blazes in one century, and is extinguished in the next. 
 I think Camden says, that Thomas Mowbray, who was 
 Grand-Marshal of England, succeeded to that high office, 
 as well as to the Dukedom of Norfolk, as grandson of 
 Roger Bigot, in 1301." 
 
 " Pshaw, man, you are back into the 14th century — I 
 mean these Mowbrays of St. Ronan's — now, don't fall 
 asleep again until you have answered my question — and 
 don't look so like a startled hare — I am speaking no 
 treason." 
 
 The clergyman floundered a moment, as is usual with 
 an absent man who is recovering the train of his ideas, 
 or a somnambulist when he is suddenly awakened, and 
 then answered, still with hesitation, — 
 
 " Mowbray of St. Ronan's ? — ha — eh — I know — that 
 is — I did know the family." 
 
 " Here they are going to give a masquerade, a bal 
 pare, private theatricals, I think, and what not," handing 
 him the card. 
 
 "I saw something of this a fortnight ago," said Mr. 
 Cargill ; " indeed, I either had a ticket myself, or I saw 
 such a one as that." 
 
 ** Are you sure you did not attend the party, Doctor ? " 
 said the Nabob.
 
 st. ronan's well. 273 
 
 " Who attend ? I ? you are jesting, Mr. Touchwood." 
 
 " But are you quite positive ? " demanded Mr. Touch- 
 wood, who had observed, to his infinite amusement, that 
 the learned and abstracted scholar was so conscious of his 
 own peculiarities, as never to be very sure on any such 
 subject. 
 
 " Positive ! " he repeated, with embarrassment ; " my 
 memory is so wretched that I never like to be positive — 
 but had I done any thing so far out of my usual way, I 
 must have remembered it, one would think — and — I am 
 positive I was not there." 
 
 " Neither could you, Doctor," said the Nabob, laughing 
 at the process by which his friend reasoned himself into 
 confidence ; " for it did not take place — it was adjourned, 
 and this is the second invitation — there will be one for 
 you, as you had a card to the former. — Come, Doctor, 
 you must go — you and I will go together — I as an Imaum 
 — I can say my Bismillah with any Hadgi of them all — 
 You as a cardinal, or what you like best." 
 
 " Who, I ? — it is unbecoming my station, Mr. Touch- 
 wood," said the clergyman — " a folly altogether incon- 
 sistent with my habits." 
 
 " All the better — you shall change your habits." 
 
 " You had better gang up and see them, Mr. Cargill," 
 said Mrs. Dods ; " for it's maybe the last sight ye may 
 see of Miss Mowbray — they say she is to be married 
 and off to England ane of thae odd-come-shortlies, wi' 
 some of the gowks about the Waal down-by." 
 
 " Married ! " said the clergyman ; " it is impossible." 
 
 " But where's the impossibility, Mr. Cargill, when ye 
 see folk marry every day, and buckle them yoursell into 
 the bargain ? — Maybe ye think the puir lassie has a bee 
 in her banuet ; but ye ken yoursell if naebody but wise 
 
 VOL. xxxiii. 18
 
 274 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 
 
 folk were to marry, the warld wad be ill peopled. I 
 think it's the wise folk that keep single, like yoursell and 
 me, Mr. Cargill. — Gude guide us! — are ye weel? — will 
 ye taste a drap o' something ? " 
 
 "Sniff at my ottar of roses," said Mr. Touchwood; 
 " the scent would revive the dead — why, what in the 
 devil's name is the meaning of this? — you were quite 
 well just now." 
 
 " A sudden qualm," said Mr. Cargill, recovering him- 
 self. 
 
 " ! Mr. Cargill," said Dame Dods, " this comes of 
 your king fasts." 
 
 " Right, dame," subjoined Mr. Touchwood ; " and of 
 breaking them with sour milk and pease bannock — the 
 least morsel of Christian food is rejected by the stomach, 
 just as a small gentleman refuses the visit of a creditable 
 neighbour, lest he see the nakedness of the land — ha! 
 ha!" 
 
 " And there is really a talk of Miss Mowbray of St. 
 Ronan's being married ? " said the clergyman. 
 
 " Troth is there," said the dame ; " it's Trotting Nelly's 
 news ; and though she likes a drappie, I dinna think she 
 would invent a lee or carry ane — at least to me, that am 
 a gude customer." 
 
 "This must be looked to," said Mr. Cargill, as if 
 speaking to himself. 
 
 " In troth, and so it should," said Dame Dods ; " it's a 
 sin and a shame if they should employ the tinkling cym- 
 bal they ca' Chatterly, and sic a Presbyterian trumpet as 
 yoursell in the land, Mr. Cargill ; and if ye will take a 
 fule's advice, ye winna let the multure be ta'en by your 
 ain mill, Mr. Cargill." 
 
 " True, true, good Mother Dods," said the Nabob ;
 
 st. konan's well. 275 
 
 " gloves and hat-bands are things to be looked after ; and 
 Mr. Cargill had better go down to this cursed festivity 
 with me, in order to see after his own interest." 
 
 " I must speak with the young lady," said the clergy - 
 jtnan, still in a brown study. 
 
 " Right, right, my boy of blackletter," said the Nabob ; 
 " with me you shall go, and we'll bring them to submis- 
 sion to mother-church, I warrant you — Why, the idea of 
 being cheated in such a way, would scare a Santon out 
 of his trance. — What dress will you wear ? " 
 
 " My own, to be sure," said the divine, starting from 
 his reverie. 
 
 " True, thou art right again — they may want to knit 
 the knot on the spot, and who would be married by a 
 parson in masquerade ? — We go to the entertainment 
 though — it is a done thing." 
 
 The clergyman assented, provided he should receive 
 an invitation ; and as that was found at the Manse, he 
 had no excuse for retracting, even if he had seemed to 
 desire one.
 
 276 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 fortune's frolics. 
 
 Count Basset. — We gentlemen, whose carriages run on the four aces, are apt 
 
 to hare a wheel out of order. 
 
 The Provoked Husband. 
 
 Our history must now look a little backwards ; and al- 
 though it.is rather foreign to our natural style of compo- 
 sition, it must speak more in narrative, and less in dialogue, 
 rather telling what happened, than its effects upon the 
 actors. Our promise, however, is only conditional, for 
 we foresee temptations which may render it difficult for 
 us exactly to keep it. 
 
 The arrival of the young Earl of Etherington at the 
 salutiferous fountain of St. Ronan's had produced the 
 strongest sensation ; especially, as it was joined with the 
 singular accident of the attempt upon his lordship's per- 
 son, as he took a short cut through the woods upon foot, 
 at a distance from his equipage and servants. The gal- 
 lantry with which he beat off the highwayman, was only 
 equal to his generosity ; for he declined making any re- 
 searches after the poor devil, although his lordship had 
 received a severe wound in the scuffle. 
 
 Of the " three black Graces," as they have been 
 termed by one of the most pleasant companions of our
 
 st. ronan's well. 277 
 
 time, Law and Physic hastened to do homage to Lord 
 Etherington, represented by Mr. Meiklewham and Dr. 
 Quackleben ; while Divinity, as favourable, though more 
 coy, in the person of the Reverend Mr. Simon Chatterly, 
 stood on tiptoe to offer any service in her power. 
 
 For the honourable reason already assigned, his lord- 
 ship, after thanking Mr. Meiklewham, and hinting, that 
 he might have different occasion for his services, declined 
 his offer to search out the delinquent by whom he had 
 been wounded ; while to the care of the Doctor he sub- 
 jected the cure of a smart flesh-wound in the arm, together 
 with a slight scratch on the temple ; and so very genteel 
 was his behaviour on the occasion, that the Doctor, in his 
 anxiety for his safety, enjoined him a month's course of 
 the waters, if he would enjoy the comfort of a complete 
 and perfect recovery. Nothing so frequent, he could as- 
 sure his lordship, as the opening of cicatrized wounds ; 
 and the waters of St. Ronan's spring being, according to 
 Dr. Quackleben, a remedy for all the troubles which flesh 
 is heir to, could not fail to equal those of Barege, in facili- 
 tating the discharge of all splinters or extraneous matter, 
 which a bullet may chance to incorporate with the human 
 frame, to its great annoyance. For he was wont to say, 
 that although he could not declare the waters which he 
 patronized to be an absolute panpharmacoti, yet he would 
 with word and pen maintain, that they possessed the prin- 
 cipal virtues of the most celebrated medicinal springs in 
 the known world. In short, the love of Alpheus for 
 Arethusa was a mere jest, compared to that which the 
 Doctor entertained for his favourite fountain. 
 
 The new and noble guest, whose arrival so much illus- 
 trated these scenes of convalescence and of gaiety, was 
 not at first seen so much at the ordinary, and other places
 
 278 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 
 
 of public resort, as had been the hope of the worthy com- 
 pany assembled. His health and his wound proved an 
 excuse for making his visits to the society few and far 
 between. 
 
 But when he did appear, his manners and person were 
 infinitely captivating ; and even the carnation-coloured 
 silk handkerchief, which suspended his wounded arm, 
 together with the paleness and languor which loss of 
 blood had left on his handsome and open countenance, 
 gave a grace to the whole person, which many of the 
 ladies declared irresistible. All contended for his notice, 
 attracted at once by his affability, and piqued by the calm 
 and easy nonchalance with which it seemed to be blended. 
 The scheming and selfish Mowbray, the coarse-minded 
 and brutal Sir Bingo, accustomed to consider themselves, 
 and to be considered, as the first men of the party, sunk 
 into comparative insignificance. But chiefly Lady Pe- 
 nelope threw out the captivations of her wit and her 
 literature ; while Lady Binks, trusting to her natural 
 charms, endeavoured equally to attract his notice. The 
 other nymphs of the Spaw held a little back, upon the 
 principle of that politeness, which, at continental hunting 
 parties, affords the first shot at a fine piece of game, to 
 the person of the highest rank present ; but the thought 
 throbbed in many a fair bosom, that their ladyships might 
 miss their aim, in spite of the advantages thus allowed 
 them, and that there might then be room for less exalted, 
 but perhaps not less skilful, markswomen, to try their 
 chance. 
 
 But while the Earl thus withdrew from public society, 
 it was necessary, at least natural, that he should choose 
 some one with whom to share the solitude of his OAvn 
 apartment ; and Mowbray, superior in rank to the half-
 
 st. ronan's well. 279 
 
 pay whisky-drinking Captain MacTurk — in clash to Win- 
 terblossom, who was broken down, and turned twaddler — 
 and in tact and sense to Sir Bingo Binks — easily ma- 
 noeuvred himself into his lordship's more intimate society ; 
 and internally thanking the honest footpad, whose bullet 
 had been the indirect means of secluding his intended 
 victim from all society but his own, he gradually began 
 to feel the way, and prove the strength of his antagonist, 
 at the various games of skill and hazard which he intro- 
 duced, apparently with the sole purpose of relieving the 
 tedium of a sick-chamber. 
 
 Meiklewham, who felt, or affected, the greatest possi- 
 ble interest in his patron's success, and who watched every 
 opportunity to inquire how his schemes advanced, received 
 at first such favourable accounts as made him grin from 
 ear to ear, rub his hands, and chuckle forth such bursts of 
 glee as only the success of triumphant roguery could have 
 extorted from him. Mowbray looked grave, however, 
 and checked his mirth. 
 
 " There was something in it after all," he said, " that 
 he could not perfectly understand. Etherington, an used 
 hand — d — d sharp — up to every thing, and yet he lost 
 his money like a baby." 
 
 "And what the matter how he loses it, so you win it 
 like a man ? " said his legal friend and adviser. 
 
 " Why, hang it, I cannot tell," replied Mowbray — 
 " were it not that I think he has scarce the impudence to 
 propose such a thing to succeed, curse me but I should 
 think he was coming the old soldier over me, and keeping 
 up his game. — But no — he can scarce have the impu- 
 dence to think of that. — I find, however, that he has done 
 Wolverine — cleaned out poor Tom — though Tom wrote 
 to me the precise contrary, yet the truth has since come
 
 280 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 
 
 out — Well, I shall avenge him, for I see his lordship is 
 to be had as well as other folks." 
 
 " Weel, Mr. Mowbray," said the lawyer, in a tone of 
 affected sympathy, "ye ken your own ways best — but the 
 heavens will bless a moderate mind. I would not like to 
 see you ruin this poor lad, funditus, that is to say, out 
 and out. — To lose some of the ready will do him no great 
 harm, and maybe give him a lesson he may be the better 
 of as long as he lives — but I wad not, as an honest man, 
 wish you to go deeper — you should spare the lad, Mr. 
 Mowbray." 
 
 " Who spared me, Meiklewham ? " said Mowbray, with 
 a look and tone of deep emphasis — " No, no — he must go 
 through the mill — money and money's worth. — His seat 
 is called Oakendale — think of that, Mick — Oakendale ! 
 Oh, name of thrice happy augury !— Speak not of mercy, 
 Mick — the squirrels of Oakendale must be dismounted, 
 and learn to go a-foot. — What mercy can the wandering 
 lord of Troy expect among the Greeks ! — The Greeks ! 
 — I am a very Suliote — the bravest of Greeks. 
 
 ' I think not of pity, I think not of fear, 
 He neither must know who would serve the Vizier. 
 
 And necessity, Mick," he concluded, with a tone some- 
 thing altered, " necessity is as unrelenting a leader as any 
 Vizier or Pacha, whom Scanderbeg ever fought with, or 
 Byron has sung." 
 
 Meiklewham echoed his patron's ejaculation with a 
 sound betwixt a whine, a chuckle, and a groan ; the first 
 being designed to express his pretended pity for the des- 
 tined victim ; the second his sympathy with his patron's 
 prospects of success ; and the third being a whistle ad- 
 monitory of the dangerous courses through which his 
 object was to be pursued.
 
 ST. ronan's well. 281 
 
 Suliote as he boasted himself, Mowbray had, soon after 
 this conversation, some reason to admit that, 
 
 " When Greek meets Greek, then comes the tug of war." 
 
 The light skirmishing betwixt the parties was ended, and 
 the serious battle commenced with some caution on either 
 side ; each perhaps desirous of being master of his op- 
 ponent's system of tactics, before exposing his own. 
 Piquet, the most beautiful game at which a man can 
 make sacrifice of his fortune, was one with which Mow- 
 bray had, for his misfortune perhaps, been accounted, 
 from an early age, a great proficient, and in which the 
 Earl of Etherington, with less experience, proved no 
 novice. They now played for such stakes as Mowbray's 
 state of fortune rendered considerable to him, though his 
 antagonist appeared not to regard the amount. And they 
 played with various success ; for, though Mowbray at 
 times returned with a smile of confidence the inquiring 
 looks of his friend Meiklewham, there were other occa- 
 sions on which he seemed to evade them, as if his own 
 had a sad confession to make in reply. 
 
 These alternations, though frequent, did not occupy, 
 after all, many clays ; for Mowbray, a friend of all hours, 
 spent much of his time in Lord Etherington's apartment, 
 and these few days were days of battle. In the mean- 
 time, as his lordship was now sufficiently recovered to 
 join the party at Shaws-Castle, and Miss Mowbray's 
 health being announced as restored, that proposal was 
 renewed, with the addition of a dramatic entertainment, 
 the nature of which we shall afterwards have occasion to 
 explain. Cards were anew issued to all those who had 
 been formerly included in the invitation, and of course to 
 Mr. Touchwood, as formerly a resident at the Well, and
 
 282 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 
 
 now in the neighbourhood ; it being previously agreed 
 among the ladies, that a Nabob, though sometimes a 
 dingy or damaged commodity, was not to be rashly or 
 unnecessarily neglected. As to the parson, he had been 
 asked, of course, as an old acquaintance of the Mowbray 
 house, not to be left out when the friends of the family 
 were invited on a great scale ; but his habits were well 
 known, and it was no more expected that he would leave 
 his manse on such an occasion, than that the kirk should 
 loosen itself from its foundations. 
 
 It was after these arrangements had been made, that 
 the Laird of St. Ronan's suddenly entered Meiklewham's 
 private apartment with looks of exultation. The worthy 
 scribe turned his spectacled nose towards his patron, and 
 holding in one hand the bunch of papers which he had 
 just been perusing, and in the other the tape with which 
 he was about to tie them up again, suspended that opera- 
 tion to await with open eyes and ears the communication 
 of Mowbray. 
 
 " I have done him ! " he said, exultingly, yet in a tone 
 of voice lowered almost to a whisper ; " capotted his lord- 
 ship for this bout — doubled my capital, Mick, and some- 
 thing more. — Hush, don't interrupt me — we must think 
 of Clara now — she must share the sunshine, should it 
 prove but a blink before a storm. — You know, Mick, 
 these two d — d women, Lady Penelope and the Binks, 
 have settled that they will have something like a bal pare 
 on this occasion, a sort of theatrical exhibition, and that 
 those who like it shall be dressed in character. — I know 
 their meaning — they think Clara has no dress fit for such 
 foolery, and so they hope to eclipse her ; Lady Pen, with 
 her old-fashioned ill-set diamonds, and my Lady Binks, 
 with the new-fashioned finery which she swopt her char-
 
 st. ronan's well. 283 
 
 acter for. But Clara shan't be borne down so, by ! 
 
 I got that affected slut, Lady Binks's maid, to tell me 
 what her mistress had set her mind on, and she is to wear 
 a Grecian habit, forsooth, like one of Will Allan's East- 
 ern subjects. — But here's the rub — there is only one 
 shawl for sale in Edinburgh that is worth showing off in, 
 and that is at the Gallery of Fashion. — Now, Mick, my 
 friend, that shawl must be had for Clara, with the other 
 trankums of muslin, and lace, and so forth, which you 
 will find marked in the paper there. — Send instantly and 
 secure it, for, as Lady Binks writes by to-morrow's post, 
 your order can go by to-night's mail — There is a note 
 for £100." 
 
 From a mechanical habit of never refusing any thing, 
 Meiklewham readily took the note, but having looked at 
 it through his spectacles, he continued to hold it in his 
 hand as he remonstrated with his patron. — " This is a' 
 very kindly meant, St. Konan's — very kindly meant; and 
 I wad be the last to say that Miss Clara does not merit 
 respect and kindness at your hand ; but I doubt mickle 
 if she wad care a bodle for thae braw things. Ye ken 
 yoursell, she seldom alters her fashions. Od, she thinks 
 her riding-habit dress eneugh for ony company ; and if 
 you were ganging by good looks, so it is — if she had a 
 thought mair colour, poor dear." 
 
 " Well, well," said Mowbray, impatiently, " let me 
 alone to reconcile a woman and a fine dress." 
 
 " To be sure, ye ken best," said the writer ; " but, after 
 a', now. wad it no be better to lay by this hundred pound 
 in Tarn Turnpenny's, in case the young lady should want 
 it afterhand, just for a sair foot ? " 
 
 " You are a fool, Mick ; what signifies healing a sore 
 foot, when there will be a broken heart in the case? — No,
 
 284 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 
 
 no — get the things as I desire you — we will blaze them 
 down for one day at least ; perhaps it will be the begin- 
 ning of a proper dash." 
 
 " Weel, weel, I wish it may be so," answered Meikle- 
 wham ; "but this young Earl — hae ye found the weak 
 point ? — Can ye get a decerniture against him, with ex- 
 penses ? — that is the question." 
 
 " I wish I could answer it," said Mowbray, thought- 
 fully. — " Confound the fellow — he is a cut above me in 
 rank and in society too — belongs to the great clubs, and 
 is in with the Superlatives and Inaccessibles, and all that 
 sort of folk. — My training has been a peg lower — but, 
 hang it, there are better dogs bred in the kennel than in 
 the parlour. I am up to him, I think — at least I will 
 soon know, Mick, whether I am or no, and that is always 
 one comfort. Never mind — do you execute my commis- 
 sion, and take care you name no names — I must save my 
 little Abigail's reputation." 
 
 They parted, Meiklewham to execute his patron's com- 
 mission — his patron to bring to the test those hopes, the 
 uncertainty of which he could not disguise from his own 
 sagacity. 
 
 Trusting to the continuance of his run of luck, Mow- 
 bray resolved to bring affairs to a crisis that same eve- 
 ning. Every thing seemed in the outset to favour his 
 purpose. They had dined together in Lord Ethering- 
 ton's apartments — his state of health interfered with the 
 circulation of the bottle, and a drizzly autumnal evening 
 rendered walking disagreeable, even had they gone no 
 farther than the private stable where Lord Ethering- 
 ton's horses were kept, under the care of a groom of 
 superior skill. Cards were naturally, almost necessarily, 
 resorted to, as the only alternative for helping away
 
 st. ronan's well. 285 
 
 the evening, and piquet was, as formerly, chosen for the 
 game. 
 
 Lord Etherington seemed at first indolently careless and 
 indifferent about his play, suffering advantages to escape 
 him, of which, in a more attentive state of mind, he could 
 not have failed to avail himself. Mowbray upbraided 
 him with his inattention, and proposed a deeper stake, in 
 order to interest him in the game. The young nobleman 
 complied ; and in the course of a few hands, the gamesters 
 became both deeply engaged in watching and profiting by 
 the changes of fortune. These were so many, so varied, 
 and so unexpected, that the veiy souls of the players 
 seemed at length centred in the event of the struggle ; 
 and, by dint of doubling stakes, the accumulated sum of a 
 thousand pounds and upwards, upon each side, came to be 
 staked in the issue of the game. — So large a risk included 
 all those funds which Mowbray commanded by his sister's 
 kindness, and nearly all his previous winnings, so to him 
 the alternative was victory or ruin. He could not hide 
 his agitation, however desirous to do so. He drank wine 
 to supply himself with courage — he drank water to cool 
 his agitation ; and at length bent himself to play with as 
 much care and attention as he felt himself enabled to 
 command. 
 
 In the first part of the game their luck appeared 
 tolerably equal, and the play of both befitting gamesters 
 who had dared to place such a sum on the cast. But, as 
 it drew towards a conclusion, fortune altogether deserted 
 him who stood most in need of her favour, and Mowbray, 
 with silent despair, saw his fate depend on a single trick, 
 and that with every odds against him, for Lord Ethering- 
 ton was elder hand. But how can fortune's favour secure 
 any one who is not true to himself? — By an infraction of
 
 286 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 
 
 the laws of the game, which could only have been ex- 
 pected from the veriest bungler that ever touched a card, 
 Lord Etherington called a point without showing it, and, 
 by the ordinary rule, Mowbray was entitled to count his 
 own — and in the course of that and the next hand, 
 gained the game and swept the stakes. Lord Ethering- 
 ton showed chagrin and displeasure, and seemed to think 
 that the rigour of the game had been more insisted upon 
 than in courtesy it ought to have been, when men were 
 playing for so small a stake. Mowbray did not under- 
 stand this logic. A thousand pounds, he said, were in 
 his eyes no nut-shells ; the rules of piquet were insisted 
 on by all but boys and women ; and for his part, he had 
 rather not play at all than not play the game. 
 
 " So it would seem, my dear Mowbray," said the Earl ; 
 " for on my soul, I never saw so disconsolate a visage as 
 thine during that unlucky game — it withdrew all my 
 attention from my hand ; and I may safely say, your 
 rueful countenance has stood me in a thousand pounds. 
 If I could transfer thy long visage to canvas, I should 
 have both my revenge and my money ; for a correct 
 resemblance would be worth not a penny less than the 
 original has cost me." 
 
 " You are welcome to your jest, my lord," said Mow- 
 bray, " it has been well paid for ; and I will serve you in 
 ten thousand at the same rate. What say you ? " he pro- 
 ceeded, taking up and shuffling the cards, " will you do 
 yourself more justice in another game ? — Revenge, they 
 say, is sweet." 
 
 " I have no appetite for it this evening," said the Eaid, 
 gravely ; " if I had, Mowbray, you might come by the 
 worse. I do not always call a point without showing 
 it."
 
 st. ronan's well. 287 
 
 " Your lordship is out of humour with yourself for a 
 blunder that might happen to any man — it was as much 
 my good luck as a good hand would have been, and so 
 Fortune be praised." 
 
 " But what if with this Fortune had nought to do ? " 
 replied Lord Etherington. — " What if, sitting down with 
 an honest fellow and a friend like yourself, Mowbray, a 
 man should rather choose to lose his own money, which 
 he could afford, than to win what it might distress his 
 friend to part with ? " 
 
 " Supposing a case so far out of supposition, my lord," 
 answered Mowbray, who felt the question ticklish — " for, 
 with submission, the allegation is easily made, and is 
 totally incapable of proof — I should say, no one had a 
 right to think for me in such a particular, or to suppose 
 that I played for a higher stake than was convenient." 
 
 " And thus your friend, poor devil," replied Lord 
 Etherington, " would lose his money, and run the risk 
 of a quarrel into the boot ! — We will try it another way 
 — Suppose this good-humoured and simple-minded game- 
 ster had a favour of the deepest import to ask of his 
 friend, and judged it better to prefer his request to a 
 winner than to a loser ? " 
 
 " If this applies to me, my lord," replied Mowbray, 
 " it is necessary I should learn how I can oblige your 
 lordship." 
 
 " That is a word soon spoken, but so difficult to be 
 recalled, that I am almost tempted to pause — but yet it 
 must be said. — Mowbray, you have a sister." 
 
 Mowbray started. — " I have indeed a sister, my lord ; 
 but I can conceive no case in which her name can enter 
 with propriety into our present discussion." 
 
 " Again in the menacing mood ! " said Lord Ethering-
 
 288 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 
 
 ton, in his former tone ; " now here is a pretty fellow — ■ 
 he would first cut my throat for having won a thousand 
 pounds from me, and then for offering to make his sister 
 a countess ! " 
 
 " A countess, my lord ? " said Mowbray ; " you are 
 but jesting — you have never even seen Clara Mowbray." 
 
 " Perhaps not — but what then ? — I may have seen her 
 picture, as Puff says in the Critic, or fallen in love with 
 her from rumour — or, to save farther suppositions, as I 
 see they render you impatient, I may be satisfied with 
 knowing that she is a beautiful and accomplished young 
 lady, with a large fortune." 
 
 " What fortune do you mean, my lord ? " said Mow- 
 bray, recollecting with alarm some claims, which, accord- 
 ing to Meiklewham's view of the subject, his sister might 
 form upon his property. — " What estate ? — there is 
 nothing belongs to our family save these lands of St. 
 Ronan's, or what is left of them ; and of these I am, my 
 lord, an undoubted heir of entail in possession." 
 
 " Be it so," said the Earl, " for I have no claim on 
 
 your mountain realms here, which are, doubtless, 
 
 ' renown'd of old 
 
 For knights, and squires, and barons bold; ' 
 
 my views respect a much richer, though less romantic 
 
 domain — a large manor, bight Nettlewood. House old, 
 
 but standing in the midst of such glorious oaks — three 
 
 thousand acres of land, arable, pasture, and woodland, 
 
 exclusive of the two closes occupied by Widow Hodge 
 
 and Goodman Trampclod — manorial rights — mines and 
 
 minerals — and the devil knows how many good things 
 
 beside, all lying in the vale of Bever." 
 
 " And what has my sister to do with all this ? " asked 
 
 Mowbray, in great surprise.
 
 st. ronan's well. 289 
 
 " Nothing ; but that it belongs to her when she becomes 
 Countess of Etherington." 
 
 " It is, then, your lordship's property already ? " 
 
 " No, by Jove ! nor can it, unless your sister honours 
 me with her approbation of my suit," replied the Earl. 
 
 " This is a sorer puzzle than one of Lady Penelope's 
 charades, my lord," said Mr. Mowbray ; " I must call in 
 the assistance of the Reverend Mr. Chatterly." 
 
 "You shall not need," said Lord Etherington; "I 
 will give you the key, but listen to me with patience. — 
 You know that we nobles of England, less jealous of our 
 sixteen quarters than those on the continent, do not take 
 scorn to line our decayed ermines with a little cloth of 
 gold from the city ; and my grandfather was lucky 
 enough to get a wealthy wife, with a halting pedigree, — 
 rather a singular circumstance, considering that her 
 father was a countryman of yours. She had a brother, 
 however, still more wealthy than herself, and who in- 
 creased his fortune by continuing to carry on the trade 
 which had first enriched his family. At length he 
 summed up his books, washed his hands of commerce, 
 and retired to Nettlewood, to become a gentleman ; and 
 here my much respected grand-uncle was seized with 
 the rage of making himself a man of consequence. Pie 
 tried what marrying a woman of family would do ; but 
 he soon found that whatever advantage his family might 
 derive from his doing so, his own condition was but little 
 illustrated. He next resolved to become a man of family 
 himself. 1 1 is father had left Scotland when very young, 
 and bore, I blush to say, the vulgar name of Scrogie. 
 This hapless dissyllable my uncle carried in person to the 
 herald office in Scotland; but neither Lyon, nor March- 
 mont, nor Islay, nor Snadoun, neither herald nor pur.-ui- 
 
 VOL. XXXIII. 19
 
 290 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 
 
 vant, would patronize Scrogie. — Scrogie ! — there could 
 nothing be made out of it — so that my worthy relative 
 had recourse to the surer side of the house, and began to 
 found his dignity on his mother's name of Mowbray. In 
 this he was much more successful, and I believe some 
 sly fellow stole for him a slip from your own family tree, 
 Mr. Mowbray of St. Ronan's, which, I dare say, you 
 have never missed. At any rate, for his argent and or, 
 he got a handsome piece of parchment, blazoned with a 
 white lion for Mowbray, to be borne quarterly, with three 
 stunted or scrog-bushes for Scrogie, and became thence- 
 forth Mr. Scrogie Mowbray, or rather, as he subscribed 
 himself, Reginald (his former Christian name was Ronald) 
 S. Mowbray. He had a son who most undutifully laughed 
 at all this, refused the honours of the high name of Mow- 
 bray, and insisted on retaining his father's original appel- 
 lative of Scrogie, to the great annoyance of his said 
 father's ears, and damage of his temper." 
 
 "Why, faith, betwixt the two," said Mowbray, "I 
 own I should have preferred my own name, and I think 
 the old gentleman's taste rather better than the young 
 one's." 
 
 " True ; but both were wilful, absurd originals, with a 
 happy obstinacy of temper, whether derived from Mow- 
 bray or Scrogie I know not, but which led them so often 
 into opposition, that the offended father, Reginald S. Mow- 
 bray, turned his recusant son, Scrogie, fairly out of doors ; 
 and the fellow would have paid for his plebeian spirit 
 with a vengeance, had he not found refuge with a surviv- 
 ing partner of the original Scrogie of all, who still carried 
 on the lucrative branch of traffic by which the family 
 had been first enriched. I mention these particulars to 
 account, in so far as I can, for the singular predicament 
 in which I now find myself placed."
 
 ST. RONAN S WELL. 291 
 
 " Proceed, my lord," said Mr. Mowbray ; " there is 
 no denying the singularity of your story, and I presume 
 you are quite serious in giving me such an extraordinary 
 detail." 
 
 " Entirely so, upon my honour — and a most serious 
 matter it is, you will presently find. When my worthy 
 uncle, Mr. S. Mowbray, (for I will not call him Scrogie 
 even in the grave,) paid his debt to nature, every body 
 concluded he would be found to have disinherited his son, 
 the unfilial Scrogie, and so far every body was right — 
 But it was also generally believed that he would settle 
 the estate on my father, Lord Etherington, the son of 
 his sister, and therein every one was wrong. For my 
 excellent grand-uncle had pondered with himself, that 
 the favoured name of Mowbray would take no advan- 
 tage, and attain no additional elevation, if his estate of 
 Nettlewood (otherwise called Mowbray-Park) should de- 
 scend to our family without any condition ; and with the 
 assistance of a sharp attorney, he settled it on me, then a 
 schoolboy, on condition that I should, before attaining 
 the age of twenty -five complete, take unto myself in holy 
 wedlock a young lady of good fame, of the name of 
 Mowbray, and, by preference, of the house of St. Ronan's, 
 should a damsel of that house exist. — Now my riddle is 
 read." 
 
 "And a very extraordinary one it is," replied Mow- 
 bray, thoughtfully. 
 
 " Confess the truth," said Lord Etherington, laying 
 his hand on his shoulder ; " you think the story will bear 
 a grain of a scruple of doubt, if not a whole scruple 
 itself?" 
 
 "At least, my lord," answered Mowbray, "your lord- 
 ship will allow, that, being Miss .Mowbray's only mar
 
 292 "WAVEELEY NOVELS. 
 
 relation, and sole guardian, I may, without offence, pause 
 upon a suit for her hand, made under such odd circum- 
 stances." 
 
 " If you have the least doubt either respecting my rank 
 or fortune, I can give, of course, the most satisfactory 
 references," said the Earl of Etherington. 
 
 " That I can easily believe, my lord," said Mowbray ; 
 " nor do I in the least fear deception, where detection 
 would be so easy. Your lordship's proceedings towards 
 me, too," (with a conscious glance at the bills he still 
 held in his hand,) " have, I admit, been such as to inti- 
 mate some such deep cause of interest as you have been 
 pleased to state. But it seems strange that your lord- 
 ship should have permitted years to glide away, without 
 so much as inquiring after the young lady, who, I be- 
 lieve, is the only person qualified, as your grand-uncle's 
 will requires, with whom you can form an alliance. It 
 appears to me, that long before now, this matter ought to 
 have been investigated ; and that, even now, it would 
 have been more natural and more decorous to have at 
 least seen my sister before proposing for her hand." 
 
 " On the first point, my dear Mowbray," said Lord 
 Etherington, " I am free to own to you, that, without 
 meaning your sister the least affront, I would have got 
 rid of this clause if I could ; for every man would fain 
 choose a wife for himself, and I feel no hurry to marry 
 at all. But the rogue-lawyers, after taking fees, and 
 keeping me in hand for years, have at length roundly 
 told me the clause must be complied with, or Nettlewood 
 must have another master. So I thought it best to come 
 down here in person in order to address the fair lady ; 
 but as accident has hitherto prevented my seeing her, 
 and as I found in her brother a man who understands
 
 ST. RONAX S WELL. 293 
 
 the world, I hope you will not think the worse of me 
 that I have endeavoured in the outset to make you my 
 friend. Truth is, I shall be twenty-five in the course 
 of a month ; and without your favour, and the oppor- 
 tunities which only you can afford me, that seems a 
 short time to woo and win a lady of Miss Mowbray's 
 merit." 
 
 "And what is the alternative if you do not form this 
 proposed alliance, my lord ? " said Mowbray. 
 
 " The bequest of my grand-uncle lapses," said the 
 Earl, " and fair Nettlevvood, with its old house, and older 
 oaks, manorial rights, Hodge Trampclod, and all, devolves 
 on a certain cousin-german of mine, whom Heaven of his 
 mercy confound ! " 
 
 " You have left yourself little time to prevent such an 
 event, my lord," said Mowbray ; " but things being as I 
 now see them, you shall have what interest I can give 
 you in the affair. — We must stand, however, on more 
 equal terms, my lord — I will condescend so far as to 
 allow it would have been inconvenient for me at this mo- 
 ment to have lost that game, but I cannot in the circum- 
 stances think of acting as if that I fairly won it. We 
 must draw stakes, my lord." 
 
 " Not a word of that, if you really mean me kindly, my 
 dear Mowbray. The blunder was a real one, for I was 
 indeed thinking, as you may suppose, on other things 
 than the showing my point — All was fairly lost and won. 
 — I hope I shall have opportunities of offering real ser- 
 vices, which may perhaps give me some right to your 
 partial regard — at present we are on equal footing on all 
 sides — perfectly so." 
 
 " If your lordship thinks so," said Mowbray, — and thru 
 passing rapidly to what he felt he could say with more
 
 294 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 
 
 confidence, — " Indeed, at any rate, no personal obligation 
 to myself could prevent my doing my full duty as guar- 
 dian to my sister." 
 
 " Unquestionably, I desire nothing else," replied the 
 Earl of Etherington. 
 
 " I must therefore understand that your lordship is 
 quite serious in your proposal ; and that it is not to be 
 withdrawn, even if upon acquaintance with Miss Mow- 
 bray, you should not perhaps think her so deserving of 
 your lordship's attentions, as report may have spoken 
 her." 
 
 " Mr. Mowbray," replied the Earl, " the treaty between 
 you and me shall be as definite as if I were a sovereign 
 prince, demanding in marriage the sister of a neighbour- 
 ing monarch, whom, according to royal etiquette, he 
 neither has seen nor could see. I have been quite frank 
 with you, and I have stated to you that my present mo- 
 tives for entering upon negotiation are not personal, but 
 territorial ; when I know Miss Mowbray, I have no 
 doubt they will be otherwise. I have heard she is 
 beautiful." 
 
 " Something of the palest, my lord," answered Mow- 
 bray. 
 
 " A fine complexion is the first attraction which is lost 
 in the world of fashion, and that which it is easiest to 
 replace." 
 
 " Dispositions my lord, may differ," said Mowbray, 
 " without faults on either side. I presume your lordship 
 has inquired into my sister's. She is amiable, accom- 
 plished, sensible, and high-spirited ; but yet " 
 
 " I understand you, Mr. Mowbray, and will spare you 
 the pain of speaking out. I have heard Miss Mowbray 
 is in some respects — particular ; to use a broader word
 
 st. ronan's well. 295 
 
 — a little whimsical. — No matter. She will have the 
 less to learn when she becomes a countess, and a woman 
 of fashion." 
 
 " Are you serious, my lord ? " said Mowbray. 
 
 " I am — and I will speak my mind still more plainly. 
 I have a good temper, and excellent spirits, and can en- 
 dure a good deal of singularity in those I live with. I 
 have no doubt your sister and I will live happily together 
 — But in case it should prove otherwise, arrangements 
 may be made previously, which will enable us in certain 
 circumstances to live happily apart. My own estate is 
 large, and Nettlewood will bear dividing." 
 
 " Nay, then," said Mowbray, " I have little more to say 
 — nothing indeed remains for inquiry, so far as your lord- 
 ship is concerned. But my sister must have free liberty 
 of choice — so far as I am concerned, your lordship's suit 
 has my interest." 
 
 " And I trust we may consider it as a done thing ? " 
 
 " With Clara's approbation — certainly," answered 
 Mowbray. 
 
 " I trust there is no chance of personal repugnance on 
 the young lady's part ? " said the young peer. 
 
 " I anticipate nothing of the kind, my lord," answered 
 Mowbray, " as I presume there is no reason for any ; but 
 young ladies will be capricious, and if Clara, after I have 
 done ami said all that a brother ought to do, should re- 
 main repugnant, there is a point in the exertion of my 
 influence which it would be cruelty to pass." 
 
 The Earl of Etherington walked a turn through the 
 apartment, then paused, and said in a grave and doubtful 
 tone, "In the meanwhile, I am bound, and the young 
 lady is free, Mowbray. Is this quite fair? " 
 
 " It is what happens in every case, my lord, where a
 
 296 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 
 
 gentleman proposes for a lady," answered Mowbray ; 
 " he must remain, of course, bound by his offer, until, 
 within a reasonable time, it is accepted or rejected. It is 
 not my fault that your lordship has declared your wishes 
 to me, before ascertaining Clara's inclination. But while 
 as yet the matter is between ourselves — I make you 
 welcome to draw back if you think proper. Clara Mow- 
 bray needs not push for a catch-match." 
 
 " Nor do I desire," said the young nobleman, " any 
 time to reconsider the resolution which I have confided 
 to you. I am not in the least fearful that I shall change 
 my mind on seeing your sister, and I am ready to stand 
 by the proposal which I have made to you. — If, however, 
 you feel so extremely delicately on my account," he con- 
 tinued, " I can see and even converse with Miss Mowbray 
 at this fete of yours, without the necessity of being at all 
 presented to her — The character which I have assumed 
 in a manner obliges me to wear a mask." 
 
 " Certainly," said the Laird of St. Ronan's, " and I am 
 glad, for both our sakes, your lordship thinks of taking a 
 little law upon this occasion." 
 
 " I shall profit nothing by it," said the Earl ; " my 
 doom is fixed before I start — but if this mode of manag- 
 ing the matter will -save your conscience, I have no 
 objection to it — it cannot consume much time, which is 
 what I have to look to." 
 
 They then shook hands and parted, without any farther 
 discourse which could interest the reader. 
 
 Mowbray was glad to find himself alone, in order to 
 think over what had happened, and to ascertain the state 
 of his own mind, which at present was puzzling even to 
 himself. He could not but feel that much greater advan- 
 tages of every kind might accrue to himself and his
 
 st. eonan's well. 297 
 
 family from the alliance of the wealthy young Earl, than 
 could have been derived from any share of his spoils 
 which he had proposed to gain by superior address in 
 play, or greater skill on the turf. But his pride was hurt 
 when he recollected that he had placed himself entirely 
 in Lord Etherington's power ; and the escape from abso- 
 lute ruin which he had made, solely by the suiferance of 
 his opponent, had nothing in it consolatory to his wounded 
 feelings. He was lowered in his own eyes, when he rec- 
 ollected how completely the proposed victim of his inge- 
 nuity had seen through his schemes, and only abstained 
 from baffling them entirely, because to do so suited best 
 with his own. There was a shade of suspicion, too, which 
 he could not entirely eradicate from his mind. — What 
 occasion had this young nobleman to preface, by the vol- 
 untary loss of a brace of thousands, a proposal which 
 must have been acceptable in itself, without any such 
 sacrifice ? And why should he, after all, have been so 
 eager to secure his accession to the proposed alliance, 
 before he had ever seen the lady who was the object of 
 it ? However hurried for time, he might have waited 
 the event at least of the entertainment at Shaws-Castle, 
 at which Clara was necessarily obliged to make her 
 appearance. — Yet such conduct, however unusual, was 
 equally inconsistent with any sinister intentions ; since 
 the sacrifice of a lai'ge sum of money, and the declaration 
 of his views upon a portionless young lady of family, 
 could scarcely be the preface to any unfair practice. So 
 that, upon the whole, Mowbray settled, that what was 
 uncommon in the Earl's conduct arose from the hasty and 
 eager disposition of a rich young Englishman, to whom 
 money is of little consequence, and who is too headlong 
 in pursuit of the favourite plan of the moment, to proceed
 
 298 WAVERLEV NOVELS. 
 
 in the most rational or most ordinary manner. If, how- 
 ever, there should prove any thing farther in the matter 
 than he could at present discover, Mowbray promised 
 himself that the utmost circumspection on his part could 
 not fail to discover it, and that in full time to prevent any 
 ill consequences to his sister or himself. 
 
 Immersed in such cogitations, he avoided the inquisi- 
 tive presence of Mr. Meiklewham, who, as usual, had been 
 watching for him to learn how matters were going on ; 
 and although it was now late, he mounted his horse, and 
 rode hastily to Shaws-Castle. On the way, he deliber- 
 ated with himself whether to mention to his sister the 
 application which had been made to him, in order to pre- 
 pare her to receive the young Earl, as a suitor, favoured 
 with her brother's approbation. " But no, no, no ; " such 
 was the result of his contemplation. " She might take it 
 into her head that his thoughts were bent less upon hav- 
 ing her for a Countess, than on obtaining possession of 
 his grand-uncle's estate. We must keep quiet," concluded 
 he, " until her personal appearance and accomplishments 
 may appear at least to have some influence upon his 
 choice. We must say nothing till this blessed entertain- 
 ment has been given and received."
 
 st. ronan's well. 299 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 A LETTER. 
 
 " Has he so long held out with me untired, 
 And stops he now for breath ?— Well— Be it so." 
 
 Richard III. 
 
 Mowbray had no sooner left the Earl's apartment, 
 than the latter commenced an epistle to a friend and asso- 
 ciate, which we lay before the reader, as best calculated 
 to illustrate the views and motives of the writer. It was 
 
 addressed to Captain Jekyl, of the regiment of 
 
 Guards, at the Green Dragon, Harrogate, and was of the 
 following tenor : — 
 
 " Dear Harry, 
 " I have expected you here these ten days past, anx- 
 iously as ever man was looked for ; and have now to 
 charge your absence as high treason to your sworn alle- 
 giance. Surely you do not presume, like one of Napo- 
 leon's new-made monarchs, to grumble for independence, 
 as if your greatness were of your own making, or as if I 
 had picked you out of the whole of St. James's coffee- 
 house to hold my back hand, for your sake, forsooth, not 
 for my own ? Wherefore, lay aside all your own proper 
 business, be it the pursuit of dowagers, or the plucking of 
 pigeons, and instantly repair to this place, where 1 may
 
 300 WAVERLEV NOVELS. 
 
 speedily want your assistance. — May want it, said I ? 
 Why, most negligent of friends and allies, I have wanted 
 it already, and that when it might have done me yeoman's 
 service. Know that I have had an affair since I came 
 hither — have got hurt myself, and have nearly shot my 
 friend ; and if I had, I might have been hanged for it, 
 for want of Harry Jekyl to bear witness in my favour. 
 I was so far on my road to this place, when, not choosing, 
 for certain reasons, to pass through the old village, I 
 struck by a footpath into the woods which separate it 
 from the new Spaw, leaving my carriage and people to 
 go the carriage-way. I had not walked half a mile when 
 I heard the footsteps of some one behind, and, looking 
 round, what should I behold but the face in the world 
 which I most cordially hate and abhor — I mean that 
 which stands on the shoulders of my right trusty and 
 well-beloved cousin and counsellor, Saint Francis. He 
 seemed as much confounded as I was at our unexpected 
 meeting ; and it was a minute ei-e he found breath to de- 
 mand what I did in Scotland, contrary to my promise, as 
 he was pleased to express it. I retaliated, and charged 
 him with being here, in contradiction to his. He justi- 
 fied, and said he had only come down upon the express 
 information that I was upon my road to St. Ronan's. 
 Now, Harry, how the devil should he have known this, 
 hadst thou been quite faithful ? for I am sure, to no ear 
 but thine own did I breathe a whisper of my purpose. — 
 Next, with the insolent assumption of superiority, which 
 he founds on what he calls the rectitude of his purpose, 
 he proposed we should both withdraw from a neighbour- 
 hood into which we could bring nothing but wretchedness. 
 — I have told you how difficult it is to cope with the calm 
 and resolute manner that the devil gifts him with on such
 
 ST. ROXAX'S WELL. 301 
 
 occasions ; but I was determined he should not cany the 
 day this time. I saw no chance for it, however, but to 
 put myself into a towering passion, which, thank Heaven, 
 I can always do on short notice. I charged him with 
 having imposed formerly on my youth, and made himself 
 judge of my rights; and I accompanied my defiance with 
 the strongest terms of irony and contempt, as well as with 
 demand of instant satisfaction. I had my travelling pis- 
 tols with me, (et pour cause.) and, to my surprise, my 
 gentleman was equally provided. For fair play's sake, I 
 made him take one of my pistols — right Kuchenritters — 
 a brace of balls in each, but that circumstance I forgot. 
 I would fain have argued the matter a little longer; but 
 I thought at the time, and think still, that the best argu- 
 ments which he and I can exchange, must come from the 
 point of the sword, or the muzzle of the pistol. — We fired 
 nearly together, and I think both dropped — I am sure I 
 did, but recovered in a minute, with a damaged arm and 
 a scratch on the temple — it was the last which stunned 
 me — so much for double-loaded pistols. My friend was 
 invisible, and I had nothing for it but to walk to the Spaw, 
 bleeding all the way like a calf, and tell a raw-head-and- 
 bloody-bone story about a footpad, which, but for my earl- 
 dom, and my gory locks, no living soul would have 
 believed. 
 
 " Shortly after, when I had been installed in a sick 
 room, I had the mortification to learn, that my own im- 
 patience had brought all this mischief upon me, at a mo- 
 ment when I had every chance of getting rid of my 
 friend without trouble, had I but let him go on his own 
 errand ; for it seems he had an appointment that morn- 
 ing with a booby Baronet, who is said to be a bullet- 
 slitter, and would perhaps have rid me of Saint Francis
 
 302 WAVEELEY NOVELS. 
 
 without any trouble or risk on my part. Meantime, his 
 non-appearance at this rendezvous has placed Master 
 Francis Tyrrel, as he chooses to call himself, in the worst 
 odour possible with the gentry at the Spring, who have 
 denounced him as a coward and no gentleman. — What 
 to think of the business myself, I know not ; and I much 
 want your assistance to see what can have become of 
 this fellow, who, like a spectre of ill omen, has so often 
 thwarted and baffled my best plans. My own confine- 
 ment renders me inactive, though my wound is fast heal- 
 ing. Dead he cannot be ; for had he been mortally 
 wounded, we should have heard of him somewhere or 
 other — he could not have vanished from the earth like a 
 bubble of the elements. Well and sound he cannot 
 be; for, besides that I am sure I saw him stagger and 
 drop, firing his pistol as he fell, I know him well enough 
 to swear, that had he not been severely wounded, he 
 would have first pestered me with his accursed presence 
 and assistance, and then walked forward with his usual 
 composure to settle matters with Sir Bingo Binks. No 
 — no — Saint Francis is none of those who leave such 
 jobs half finished — it is but doing him justice to say, he 
 has the devil's courage to back his own deliberate imper- 
 tinence. But then, if wounded severely, he must be still 
 in this neighbourhood, and probably in concealment — 
 this is what I must discover, and I want your assistance 
 in my inquiries among the natives. — Haste hither, Harry, 
 as ever you look for good at my hand. 
 
 " A good player, Harry, always studies to make the 
 best of bad cards — and so I have endeavoured to turn 
 my wound to some account ; and it has given me the op- 
 portunity to secure Monsieur le Frere in my interests. 
 You say very truly, that it is of consequence to me to
 
 st. roxan's well. 303 
 
 know the character of this new actor on the disordered 
 scene of my adventures. — Know, then, he is that most 
 incongruous of all monsters — a Scotch Buck — how far 
 from being buck of the season you may easily judge. 
 Every point of national character is opposed to the pre- 
 tensions of this luckless race, when they attempt to take 
 on them a personage which is assumed with so much fa- 
 cility by their brethren of the Isle of Saints. They are 
 a shrewd people, indeed, but so destitute of ease, grace, 
 pliability of manners, and insinuation of address, that 
 they eternally seem to suffer actual misery in their at- 
 tempts to look gay and careless. Then their pride head> 
 them back at one turn, their poverty at another, their 
 pedantry at a third, their mauvaise honte at a fourth ; 
 and with so many obstacles to make them bolt off the 
 course, it is positively impossible they should win the 
 plate. No, Harry, it is the grave folk in old England 
 who have to fear a Caledonian invasion — they will make 
 no conquests in the world of fashion. Excellent bankers 
 the Scots may be, for they are eternally calculating how 
 to add interest to principal ; good soldiers, for they are, 
 if not such heroes as they would be thought, as brave, I 
 suppose, as their neighbours, and much more amenable 
 to discipline ; — lawyers they are born ; indeed every 
 country gentleman is bred one, and their patient and 
 crafty disposition enables them, in other lines, to submit 
 to hardships which other natives could not bear, and avail 
 themselves of advantages which others would let pass 
 under their noses unavailingly. But assuredly Heaven 
 did not form the Caledonian for the gay world ; and his 
 efforts at case, grace, and gaiety, resemble only the 
 clumsy gambols of the ass in the fable. Yet the Scot 
 has his sphere too, (in his own country only,) where the
 
 304 WAVEKLEY NOVELS. 
 
 character which lie assumes is allowed to pass current. 
 This Mowbray, now — this brother-in-law of mine, — 
 might do pretty well at a Northern Meeting, or the Leith 
 races, where he could give five minutes to the sport of 
 the day, and the next half hour to country politics, or to 
 farming ; but it is scarce necessary to tell you, Harry, 
 that this half fellowship will not pass on the better side' 
 of the Tweed. 
 
 " Yet, for all I have told you, this trout was not easily 
 tickled ; nor should I have made much of him, had he 
 not, in the plenitude of his northern conceit, entertained 
 that notion of my being a good subject of plunder, which 
 you had contrived (blessing on your contriving brain !) 
 to insinuate into him by means of Wolverine. He com- 
 menced this hopeful experiment, and as you must have 
 anticipated, caught a Tartar with a vengeance. Of 
 course, I used my victory only so far as to secure his 
 interest in accomplishing my principal object ; and yet 
 I could see my gentleman's pride was so much injured in 
 the course of the negotiation, that not all the advantages 
 which the match offered to his damned family, were able 
 entirely to subdue the chagrin arising from his defeat. 
 He did gulp it down, though, and we are friends and 
 allies for the present at least — not so cordially so, how- 
 ever, as to induce me to trust him with the whole of the 
 strangely complicated tale. The circumstance of the 
 will it was necessary to communicate, as affording a suffi- 
 ciently strong reason for urging my suit ; and this partial 
 disclosure enabled me for the present to dispense with 
 farther confidence. 
 
 " You will observe, that I stand by no means secure ; 
 and beside the chance of my cousin's reappearance — a 
 certain event, unless he is worse than I dare hope for —
 
 st. ronan's well. 305 
 
 I have perhaps to expect the fantastic repugnance of 
 Clara herself, or some sulky freak on her brother's part. 
 — In a word — and let it be such a one as conjurers raise 
 the devil with — Harry Jekyl, I want you. 
 
 " As well knowing the nature of my friend, I can as- 
 sure you that his own interest, as well as mine, may be 
 advanced by his coming hither on duty. Here is a block- 
 head whom I already mentioned, Sir Bingo Binks, with 
 whom something may be done worth your while, though 
 scarce worth mine. The Baronet is a perfect buzzard, 
 and when I came here he was under Mowbray's training. 
 But the awkward Scot had plucked half-a-dozen pen- 
 feathers from his wing with so little precaution, that the 
 Baronet has become frightened and shy, and is now in 
 the act of rebelling against Mowbray, whom he both 
 hates and fears — the least backing from a knowing hand 
 like you, and the bird becomes your own, feathers and 
 all. — Moreover, 
 
 -by my life, 
 
 This Bingo hath a mighty pretty wife.' 
 
 A lovely woman, Harry — rather plump, and above the 
 middle size — quite your taste — A Juno in beauty, look- 
 ing with such scorn on her husband, whom she despises 
 and hates, and seeming, as if she could look so differently 
 on any one whom she might like better, that, on my 
 faith, 'twere sin not to give her occasion. If you please 
 to venture your luck, either with the knight or the lady, 
 you shall have fair play, and no interference — that is, 
 provided you appear upon this summons ; for, otherwise, 
 I may be so placed, that the affairs of the knight and 
 the lady may fall under my own immediate cognizance. 
 And so, Harry, if you wish to profit by these hints, you 
 
 VOL. xxxiii. 20
 
 306 WAVERLEY NOVELS. 
 
 had best make haste, as well for your own concerns, as to 
 assist me in mine. 
 
 " Yours, Harry, as you behave yourself, 
 
 " Etherington." 
 
 Having finished this eloquent and instructive epistle, 
 the young Earl demanded the attendance of his own 
 valet, Solmes, whom he charged to put it into the post- 
 office without delay, and with his own hand. 
 
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 D* 1;NI1 '"' VOL. I. ijgH 
 
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