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edLOLEPLEPAPIIEPASEPOPPES SOLED ASTHE

WAVERLEY NOVELS

BY

SIR WALTER SCOTT, Barr,
GBiobe Cdition

{HE FORTUNES OF NIGEL —THE BLACK
DWARF ANI- LEGEND OF MONTROSE

FOUR VOLUMES IN ONE

 

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HOUGHTON, OSGOOD AND COMPANY
he Riverside Press, Cambringe
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eeeTHE FORTUNES OF NIGETETHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL.

 

Enifegrinder.—Story? Lord bless you! I have none to tell, sir.

POETRY OF THE ANTIJACOBIN.

INTRODUCTION—(1831.)

But why should lordlings all our praise engross?
Rise, honest Muse, and sing the Man of Ross.
POPE.

HavinG, in the tale of the Heart of Mid-Lothian, sac-
ceeded in some degree in awakening an interest in behalf
of one devoid of those accomplishments which belong to
a heroine almost by right, I was next tempted to choose
@ hero upon the same unpromising plan; and as worth
of character, goodness of heart, and rectitude of principle,
were necessary to one who laid no claim to high birth,
romantic sensibility, or any of the usual accomplishments
of those who strut through the pages of this sort of com-
position, I made free with the name of a person who has
left the most magnificent proofs of his benevolence and
charity that the capital of Scotland has to display.

To the Scottish reader little more need be said than
that the man alluded to is George Heriot. But for those
south of the ‘I'weed it may be necessary to add, that the6 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

person so named was a wealthy citizen of Edinburgh, and
the King’s goldsmith, who followed James to the English
capital, and was so successful in his profession as to die,
in 1624, extremely wealthy for that period. He had no
children ; and after making a full provision for such rela-
tions as might have claims upon him, he left the residue
of his fortune to establish an hospital, in which the sons
of Edinburgh freemen are gratuitously brought up and
educated for the station to which their talents may recome
mend them, and are finally enabled to enter life under
respectable auspices. The Hospital in which this charity
is maintained is a noble quadrangle of the Gothic order,
and as ornamental to the city as a building, as the manner
in which the youths are provided for and educated ren-
ders it useful to the community as an institution. ‘To the
honour of those who have the management, (the Magis-
trates and Clergy of Edinburgh,) the funds of the Hos-
pital have increased so much under their care, that it now
supports and educates one hundred and thirty youths
annually, many of whom have done honour to their
country in different situations.

The founder of such a charity as this may be reasona-
bly supposed to have walked through life with a steady
pace, and an observant eye, neglecting no opportunity of
assisting those who were not possessed of the experience
necessary for their own guidance. In supposing his
efforts directed to the benefit of a young nobleman, mis-
guided by the aristocratic haughtiness of his own time,
and the prevailing tone of selfish luxury which seems
more peculiar to ours, as well as the seductions of pleasure
which are predominant in all, some amusement, or even
some advantage, might, J thought, be derived from the
manner in which I might bring the exertions of this civicINTRODUCTION TO THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. <

Mentor to bear in his pupil’s behalf. I am, I own, no
great believer in the moral utility to be derived from fic:
titious compositions ; yet, if in any case a word spoken in
season may be of advantage to a young person, it must
surely be when it calls upon him to attend to the voice of
principle and self-denial, instead of that of precipitate
passion. I could not, indeed, hope or expect to represent
ny prudent and benevolent citizen in a point of view so
nteresting as that of the peasant girl, who nobly sacri-
iiced her family affections to the integrity of her moral
vharacter. Still, however, something I hoped might be
vone not altogether unworthy the fame which George
\eriot has secured by the lasting benefits he has bestowed
on his country.

It appeared likely, that out of this simple plot I might
weave something attractive; because the reign of James
I., in which George Heriot flourished, gave unbounded
scope to invention in the fable, while at the same time it
afforded greater variety and discrimination of character
than could, with historical consistency, have been intro-
duced if the scene had been laid a century earlier. Lady
Mary Wortley Montague has said, with equal truth and
taste, that the most romantic region of every country is
that where the mountains unite themselves with the plains
or lowlands. For similar reasons, it may be in like man-
ner said, that the most picturesque period of history is that
when the ancient rough and wild manners of a barbarous
age are just becoming innovated upon, and contrasted, by
the illumination of increased or revived learning, and the
instructions of renewed or reformed religion. ‘The strong
contrast produced by the opposition of ancient manners
to those which are gradually subduing them, affords the
lights and shadows necessary to give effect to a fictitious8 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

narrative; and while such a period entitles the author to
introduce incidents of a marvellous and improbable char-
acter, as arising out of the turbulent independence and
ferocity, belonging to old habits of violence, still influ-
encing the manners of a people who had been so lately
in a barbarous state; yet, on the other hand, the charac-
ters and sentiments of many of the actors may, with the
utmost probability, be described with great variety of
shading and delineation, which belongs to the newer and
more improved period, of which the world has but lately
received the light.

The reign of James I. of England possessed this ad-
vantage in a peculiar degree. Some beams of chivalry,
although its planet had been for some time set, continued
to animate and gild the horizon, and although probably
no one acted precisely on its Quixotic dictates, men and
women still talked the chivalrous language of Sir Philip
Sydney’s Arcadia; and the ceremonial of the tilt-yard
was yet exhibited, though it now only flourished as a
Place de Carrousel. Here and there a _ high-spirited
Knight of the Bath
Herbert of Cherbury

vows he had taken, to imagine himself obliged to compel,

witness the too scrupulous Lord

 

 

was found devoted enough to the

by the sword’s-point, a fellow-knight or squire to restore
the top-knot. of ribbon which he had stolen from a fair
damsel ;* but yet, while men were taking each other's
lives on such punctilios of honour, the hour was already
arrived when Bacon was about to teach the world that
they were no longer to reason from authority to fact, but
to establish truth by advancing from fact to fact, till they
xed an indisputable authority, not from hypothesis, but
from experiment.

* See Lord Herbert of Cherbury’s Memoirs.INTRODUCTION TO THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 9

The state of society in the reign of James I. was also
strangely disturbed, and the license of a part of the com-
munity was perpetually giving rise to acts of blood and
violence. The bravo of the Queen’s day, of whom Shak-
speare has given us so many varieties, as Bardolph, Nym,
Pistol, Peto, and the other companions of Falstaff, men
who had their humours, or their particular turn of extray-
aganza, had, since the commencement of the Low Coun-
try wars, given way to a race of sworders, who used the
rapier and dagger instead of the far less dangerous sword
and buckler; so that a historian Says on this subject,
“that private quarrels were nourished, but especially
between the Scots and English; and duels in every street
maintained ; divers sects and peculiar titles passed un-
punished and unregarded, as the sect of the Roaring
Boys, Bonaventors, Bravadors, Quarterors, and such
like, being persons prodigal, and of great expense, who,
having run themselves into debt, were constrained to run
next into factions, to defend themselves from danger of
the law. These received countenance from divers of the
nobility ; and the citizens, through lasciviousness consum-
ing their estates, it was like that the number [of these
desperadoes] would rather increase than diminish; and
under these pretences they entered into many aesperate
enterprises, and scarce any durst walk in the street after
nine at night.” *

Ihe same authority assures us farther, that “ ancient
gentlemen, who had left their inheritance whole and well
furnished with goods and chattels (having thereupon kept
good houses) unto their sons, lived to see part consumed
in riot and excess, and the rest in possibility to be utterly

* History of the First Fourteen Years of King James’s Reign. See
Somers’s Tracts, edited by Scott, vol. ii. p. 266.i0 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

lost; the holy state of matrimony made but a May-game,
by which divers families had been subverted ; brothel
houses much frequented, and even great persons, prosti-
tuting their bodies to the intent to satisfy their lusts, con-
sumed their substance in lascivious appetites. And of all
sorts, such knights and gentlemen, as either through pride
or prodigality had consumed their substance, repairing to
the city, and to the intent to consume their virtue also,
lived dissolute lives; many of their ladies and daughters,
to the intent to maintain themselves according to their
dignity, prostituting their bodies in shameful manner.
Alehouses, dicing-houses, taverns, and places of iniquity,
beyond manner abounding in most places.”

Nor is it only in the pages of a puritanical, perhaps a
satirical writer, that we find so shocking and disgusting a
picture of the coarseness of the beginning of the seven-
teenth century. On the contrary, in all the comedies of
the age, the principal character for gaiety and wit is a
young heir, who has totally altered the establishment of
the father to whom he has succeeded, and, to use the old
simile, who resembles a fountain, which plays off in idle-
ness and extravagance the wealth which its careful
parents painfully had assembled in hidden reservoirs.

And yet, while that spirit of general extravagance
seemed at work over a whole kingdom, another and very
different sort of men were gradually forming the staid
and resolved characters, which afterwards displayed
themselves during the civil wars, and powerfully regu-
lated and affected the character of the whole English
nation, until, rushing from one extreme to another, they
sunk in a gloomy fanaticism the splendid traces of the
reviving fine arts.

From the quotations which I have produced, the selfishINTRODUCTION TO THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 1]

and disgusting conduct of Lord Dalgarno will not per-
haps appear overstrained ; nor will the scenes in White-
friars and places of similar resort seem too highly
eoloured. This indeed is far from being the case. It
was in James I.’s reign that vice first appeared affecting
the better classes in its gross and undisguised depravity.
The entertainments and amusements of Elizabeth’s time
had an air of that decent restraint which became the
court of a maiden sovereign; and, in that earlier period,
fo use the words of Burke, vice lost half its evil by being
deprived of all its grossness. In James’s reign, on the
contrary, the coarsest pleasures were publicly and un-
limitedly indulged, since, according to Sir John Harring-
ton, the men wallowed in beastly delights; and even
ladies abandoned their society, and rolled about in intoxi-
cation. After a ludicrous account of a mask, in which
the actors had got drunk, and behaved themselves ac-
cordingly, he adds, “I have much marvelled at these
strange pageantries, and they do bring to my recollection
what passed of this sort in our Queen’s days, in which I
was sometimes an assistant and partaker; but never did
I see such lack of good order and sobriety as I have now
done. The gunpowder fright is got out of all our heads, and
we are going on hereabout as if the devil was contriving
every man should blow up himself by wild riot, excess,
and devastation of time and temperance. ‘The great
ladies do go well masqued; and indeed, it be the only
show of their modesty to conceal their countenance ; but
glack, they meet with such countenance to uphold their
strange doings, that I marvel not at aught that hap-
pens.” *

* Harrington’s Nuge Antique, vol. ii. p. 352. For the gross de-
pauchery of the period, too much encouraged by the example of the{2 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

Such being the state of the court, coarse sensuality
brought along with it its ordinary companion, a brutal
degree of undisguised selfishness, destructive alike of
philanthropy and good breeding; both of which, in their
several spheres, depend upon the regard paid by each
individual to the interest as well as the feelings of others.
It is in such a time that the heartless and shameless man
of wealth and power may, like the supposed Lord Dal-
garno, brazen out the shame of his villainies, and affect
to triumph in their consequences, so long as they were
personally advantageous to his own pleasures or profit.

Alsatia is elsewhere explained as a cant name for
Whitefriars, which, possessing certain privileges of sanc-
tuary, became for that reason a nest of those mischievous
characters who were generally obnoxious to the law.
These privileges were derived from its having been an
establishment of the Carmelites, or White Friars, founded,
says Stow, in his Survey of London, by Sir Richard
Grey, in 1241. Edward I. gave them a plot of ground
in Fleet Street, to build their church upon. The edifice
then erected was rebuilt by Courtney, Earl of Devon-
shire, in the reign of Edward. In the time of the Refor-
mation the place retained its immunities as a sanctuary,
and James I. confirmed and added to them by a charter
in 1608. Shadwell was the first author who made some

monarch, who was, in other respects, neither without talent nor a
good-natured disposition, see Winwood’s Memorials, Howel’s Letters,
and other Memorials of the time; but particularly, consu't the Pri-
vate Letters and Correspondence of Steenie, aljjas Buckingham, with
his reverend Dad and Gossip, King James, which abound with the
grossest as well as the most childish language. The learned Mr
D’Israeli, in an attempt to vindicate the character of James, has only
succeeded in obtaining for himself the character of a skilful and in-
yemons advocate, without much advantage to h's royal client.INTRODUCTION TO THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 13

literary use of Whitefriars, in his play of the Squire of
Alsatia, which turns upon the plot of the Adelphi of
Terence.

In this old play. two men of fortune, brothers, educate
two young men, (sons to the one and nephews to the
other,) each under his own separate system of rigour and
indulgence. The elder of the subjects of this experiment,
who has been very rigidly brought up, falls at once into
all the vices of the town, is debauched by the cheats and
bullies of Whitefriars, and in a word, becomes the Squire
of Alsatia. The poet gives, as the natural and congenial
inhabitants of the place, such characters as the reader
will find in the note.* The play, as we learn from the
dedication to the Earl of Dorset and Middlesex, was suc-
cessful above the author’s expectations, “no comedy these
many years having filled the theatre so long together.
And I had the great honour,” continues Shadwell, “to
find so many friends, that the house was never so full

* “ Oheatly, a rascal, who by reason of debts dares not stir out of
Whitefriars, but there inveigles young heirs of entail, and helps them
to goods and money upon great disadvantages, is bound for them, and
shares with them till he undoes them. A lewd, impudent, debauched
fellow, very expert in the cant about town.

“ Shamwell, cousin to the Belfords, who, being ruined by Cheatly, is
made a decoy-duck for others, not daring to stir out of Alsatia, where
he lives. Is bound with Cheatly for heirs, and lives upon them a dis-
solute, debauched life.

“ Captain Hackum, a blockheaded bully of Alsatia, a cowardly, im-
pudent, blustering fellow, formerly a sergeant in Flanders, who has
sun from his colours, and retreated into Whitefriars for a very small
debt, where by the Alsatians he is dubb’d a captain, marries one that
pts lodgings, sells cherry-brandy, and is a bawd.

“ Scrapeall, a hypocritical, repeating, praying, psalm-singing, precise
fellow, pretending to great piety; a godly knave, who joins with
Cheatly, and supplies young heirs with goods and money.’’—Dramatia
Persone to the Squire of Alsatia, SHADWELL'S Works, vel. ivWAVERLEY NOVELS.

 

14

since it was built as upon the third day of this play, and
vast numbers went away that could not be admitted.” *
From the Squire of Alsatia the author derived some few
hints, and learned the footing on which the bullies and
thieves of the Sanctuary stood with their neighbours, the
fiery young students of the Temple, of which some inti-
mation is given in the dramatic piece.

Such are the materials to which the author stands ine
debted for the composition of the Fortunes of Nigel, a
novel which may be perhaps one of those that are more
amusing on a second perusal, than when read a first time
for the sake of the story, the incidents of which are few
and meagre.

The Introductory Epistle is written, in Lucio’s phrase,
“ according to the trick,” and would never have appeared
had the writer meditated making his avowal of the work.
As it is the privilege of a mask or incognito to speak in
a feiyned voice and assumed character, the author at-
tempted, while in disguise, some liberties of the same
sort; and while he continues to plead upon the various
excuses which the introduction contains, the present
acknowledgment must serve as an apology for a species
of “ hoity toity, whisky frisky” pertness of manner, which,
in his avowed character, the author should have cen-
sidered as a departure from the rules of civility and good
taste.

* Dedication to the Squire of Alsatia, Shadwell’s Works, vol. iv.

ABBOTSFORD, Ist July, 1831.INTRODUCTORY EPISTLE

INTRODUCTORY EPISTLE.

NAPTAIN CLUTTERBUCK TO THE REV. DR. DRYASDUST

Dear Sir,—I readily accept of, and reply to the civil-
ities with which you have been pleased to honour me in
your obliging letter, and entirely agree with your quota-
tion of “ Quam bonum et quam jucundum!” We may
indeed esteem ourselves as come of the same family, or,
according to our country proverb, as being all one man’s
bairns; and there needed no apology on your part, rev-
erend and dear sir, for demanding of me any information
which I may be able to supply respecting the subject of
your curiosity. The interview which you allude to took
place in the course of last winter, and is so deeply im-
printed on my recollection, that it requires no effort to
collect all its most minute details.

You are aware that the share which I had in intro-
ducing the Romance, called Tur Monastery, to public
notice, has given me a sort of character in the literature
of our Scottish metropolis. I no longer stand in the outer
shop of our bibliopolists, bargaining for the objects of my
espective shop-lad, hustled among

curiosity with an unr
and copy-books, and

boys who come to buy Corderies16 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

servant-girls cheapening a pennyworth ot paper, but a
cordially welcomed by the bibliopolist himself, with,
“ Pray, walk into the back-shop, Captain. Boy, get a
chair for Captain Clutterbuck. There is the newspaper,
Captain—to-day’s paper ;” “Here is the last new

work—there is a folder, ma ae free with the leaves ; ”
or, “ Put it in your pocket, and carry it home ;” or, “ We
will make a bookseller of you, sir, you shall have it at
trade price.” Or, perhaps, if it is the worthy traders
own publication, his liberality may even extend itself to
—“ Never mind booking such a trifle to you, sir—it is an
over copy. Pray, mention the work to your reading
friends.” I say nothing of the snug well-selected literary
party arranged round a turbot, leg of five-year old mutton,
or some such gear, or of the circulation of a quiet bottle
of Robert Cockburn’s choicest black—nay, perhaps, of his
best blue, to quicken our talk about old books, or our plans
for new ones. All these are comforts reserved to such as
are free men of the corporation of letters, and I have the
advantage of enjoying them in perfection.

But all things change under the sun; and it is with no
ordinary feelings of regret that, in my annual visits to the
metropolis, I now miss the social and warm-hearted wel-
come of the quick-witted and kindly friend who first intro-
duced me to the public; who had more orignal wit than
would have set upa dozen of professed sayers of good
things, and more racy humour than would have made the
fortune of as many more. To this great deprivation has
pyeen added, I trust for a time only, the loss of another
bibliopolical friend, whose vigorous intellect, and liberal
_\deas, have not only rendered his native country the mart
of her own literature, but established there a Court of
Letters, which must command respect, even from thoseINTRODUCTORY EPISTLE. 17

most inclined to dissent from many

of its canons. The
effect of these changes, O}

erated in a great measure by
the strong sense anc sagacious calculations of an indi-
vidual, who knew how to avail himself, to an unhoped-for
extent, of the various kinds of talent which
produced, will probably appear more cle

eration which shall follow the present.

his country
arly to the gen-

I entered the shop at the Cross, to inquire after the
health of my worthy friend, and learned with satisfaction,
that his residence in the south had abated the rigour of
the symptoms of his disorder. Availing myself, then,
of the privileges to which I have alluded, I strolled
onward in that labyrinth of small dark rooms, or erypts,
to speak our own antiquarian language, which form the
extensive back-settlements of that celebrated publishing-
house. Yet, as I proceeded from one obscure recess to
another, filled, some of them with old volumes, some with
such as, from the equality of their rank on the shelves,
I suspected to be the less saleable modern books of the
concern, I could not help feeling a holy horror creep
upon me, when I thought of the risk of intruding on some
ecstatic bard giving vent to his poetical fury ; or, it might
be, on the yet more formidable pri vacy of a band of erities,
in the act of worrying the game which they had just run
down. In such a supposed case, I felt by anticipation
the horrors of the Highland seers, whom their gift of
deuteroscopy compels to witness things unmeet for mortal
eye; and who, to use the expression of Collins,

 

‘heartless, oft, like moody madness, stare,
To see the phantom train their secret work prepare.”

Still, however, the irresistible impulse of an undefined
curiosity drove me on through this succession of darksome
VOL. XXVII. 2

 

    
   
  
    
   
 
   
  
   
  
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
   
   
  

Meche Sree:18 / WAVERLEY NOVELS.

ler of Delhi in the house of
at length reached a vaulted

room, dedicated to secrecy and silence, and beheld, seated
by a lamp, and employed in reading a blotted revise,* the
person, or perhaps I should rather say the Eidolon, or
representative Vision, of the AUTHOR OF WAVERLEY !
You will not be surprised at the filial instinct which
enabled me at once to acknowledge the features borne by
this venerable apparition, and that I at once bended the
knee, with the classical salutation -of, Salve, magne, pa-
rens! The vision, however, cut me short, by pointing to
a seat, intimating at the same time, that my presence was
and that he had something to say to me.
I sat down with humble obedience, and endeavoured to
note the features of him with whom I now found myself
so unexpectedly in society. But on this point I can give
o satisfaction; for, besides the obscurity
and the fluttered state of my own nerves,
erwhelmed by a sense of filial awe,
ng and recording what it is
ight most desire to

chambers, till, like the jewel
the magician Bennaskar, I

not unexpected,

your reverence 0
of the apartment,
T seemed to myself ov
which prevented my noti
probanle the personage before me m
have concealed. Indeed, his figure was so closely veiled
pled, either with a mantle, morning-gown, OF

and wim
some such loose garb, that the verses of Spenser might

well have been applied—

“ Yet, certes, by her face and physnomy,
Whether she man or woman only were,
That could not any creature well desery.”’

I must, however, go on as I have begun, to apply the
masculine gender ; for, notwithstanding very ingenious
* The uninitixted must be informed. that a second proof-sheat is sd
galled.INTRODUCTORY EPISTLE. 19

reasons, and indeed something like positiy

e evidence,
have been offered to prove the

Author of Waverley to
be two ladies of talent, I must abide by the general opin-
ion, that he is of the rougher sex. There are in his
writings too many things

“ Que maribus sola tribuuntur,”

fo permit me to entertain any doubt on that subject. J
will proceed, in the manner of dialogue, to repeat as
nearly as I can what passed betwixt us, only observing,
that in the course of the conversation, my timidity imper-
ceptibly gave way under the familiarity of his address ;
and that, in the concluding part of our dialogue, I perhaps
argued with fully as much confidence as was beseeming.

Author of Waverley.—I was willing to see you, Captain
Clutterbuck, being the person of my family whom I have
most regard for, since the death of Jedediah Cleish-
botham ; and I am afraid I may have done you some
wrong, in assigning to you The Monastery asa portion
of my effects. I have some thoughts of making it up to
you, by naming you godfather to this yet unborn babe—
(he indicated the proof-sheet with his finger)—But first,
touching The Monastery—How says the world—you are
abroad and can learn ?

Captain Clutterbuck.—Hem! hem!—The inquiry is
delicate—I have not heard any complaints from the
Publishers.

Author.—That is the principal matter; but yet an
indifferent work is sometimes towed on by those which
have left harbour before it, with the breeze in their poop.
What say the Critics ?

Captain.—There is a general—feeling—that the White
Lady is no favourite.

     
   
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 

OO

a File ee20 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

Author.—I think she is a failure myself ; but rather in
execution than conception. Could I have evoked an
esprit follet, at the same time fantastic and interesting,
‘cious and kind; a sort of wildfire of the elements,

capr
tives of action; faithful

bound by no fixed laws, or mo
and fond, yet teasing and uncertain
Captain.—If you will pardon the interruption, sir, I
think you are describing a pretty woman.
Author —On my word, I believe I am. I must invest
my elementary spirits with a little human flesh and blood
—they are too fine-drawn for the present taste of the

 

public.
Captain.—They object, too, that the object of your

Nixie ought to have been more uniformly noble—Her
ducking the priest was no Naiad-like amusement.
Author.—Ah ! they ought to allow for the capriccios of
what is, after all, but a better sort of goblin. The bath
into. which Ariel, the most delicate creation of Shak-
speare’s imagination, seduces our jolly friend Trinculo, was
not of amber or rose-water. But no one shall find me
rowing against the stream. I care not who knows it—
I write for general amusement; and, though I never will
aim at popularity by what I think unworthy means, I will
not, on the other hand, be pertinacious in the defence of
my own errors against the voice of the public.
Captain.—You abandon, then, in the present work—
(looking, in my turn, towards the proof-sheet)—the mys-
tic, and the magical, and the whole system of signs, won-
ders, and omens? ‘There are no dreams, or presages, or
obscure allusions to future events ?
Author.—Not a Cock-lane scratch, my son—not one
bounce on the drum of Tedworth—not so much as the
poor tick of a solitary death-watch in the wainscot. AllINTRODUCTORY EPISTLE. 2

is clear and above-board—a Scots metaphysician might
believe every word of it.

Captain —And the story is, I hope, natural and proba-
ble ; commencing strikingly, proceeding naturally, ending
happily—like the course of a famed river, which gushes
from the mouth of some obscure and romantic grotto—
then gliding on, never pausing, never precipitating its
course, Visiting, as it were, by natural instinct, whatever
worthy subjects of interest are presented by the country
through which it passes—widening and deepening in in-
terest as it flows on; and at length arriving at the final
catastrophe as at some mighty haven, where ships of all
kind strike sail and yard?

Author.—Hey! hey! what the deuce is all this ? Why,
*tis Ercles’ vein, and it would require some one much
more like Hercules than I, to produce a story which
should gush and glide, and never pause, and visit, and
widen, and deepen, and all the rest on’t. I should be
chin-deep in the grave, man, before I had done with my
task ; and, in the meanwhile, all the quirks and quiddities
which I might have devised for my reader’s amusement,
would lie rotting in my gizzard, like Sancho’s suppressed
witticisms, when he was under his master’s displeasure.—
There never was a novel written on this plan while the
world stood.

Captain.— Pardon me—Tom Jones.

Author.—True, and perhaps Amelia also. Fielding
had high notions of the dignity of an art which he may
be considered as having founded. He challenges a com:
parison between the Novel and the Hpic. Smollett, Le
Sage, and others, emancipating themselves from the strict-
ness of the rules he has laid down, have written rather a
history of the miscellaneous adventures which befall an»

oD, WAVERLEY NOVELS.

individual in the course of life, than the plot of a regular
and connected epopeia, where every step brings us a point
nearer to the final catastrophe. ‘These great masters
have been satisfied if they amused the reader upon the
road; though the conclusion only arrived because the tale
must have an end—just as the traveller alights at the inn,
because it is evening.

Captain.—A. very commodious mode of travelling, for
the author at least. In short, sir, you are of opinion
with Bayes-—“ What the devil does the plot signify,
except to bring in fine things?”

Author.—Grant that I were so, and that I should write
with sense and spirit a few scenes, unlaboured and loosely
put together, but which had sufficient interest in them te
amuse in one corner the pain of body; in another, to
relieve anxiety of mind; in a third place, to unwrinkle a
brow bent with the furrows of daily toil; in another, to
fill the place of bad thoughts, or to suggest better; in yet
another, to induce an idler to study the history of his
country ; in all save where the perusal interrupted the
discharge of serious duties, to furnish harmless amuse-
ment,—might not the author of such ‘a work, however
inartificially executed, plead for his errors and negligences
the excuse of the slave, who, about to be punished for
having spread the false report of a victory, saved himself
sy exclaiming—* Am I to blame, O Athenians, who have
given you one happy day?”

Captain.—Will your goodness permit me to mention
an anecdote of my excellent grandmother ?

Author.—I see little she can have to do with the sub:
ject, Captain Clutterbuck.

Captain.—It may come into our dialogue on Bayes’s
plan.—The sagacious old lady—rest her soul !—was aINTRODUCTORY EPISTLE. 3a

good friend to the church, and could never hear a minister
maligned by evil tongues, without taking his part warmly
There was one fixed point, however, at which she always
abandoned the cause of her reverend protégé—it was so
soon as she had learned he had preached a regular sermon
against slanderers and backbiters.

Author.—And what is that to the’ purpose ?

Captain.—Only that I have heard engineers say, that
one may betray the weak point to the enemy, by toe
much ostentation of fortifying it.

Author.—And, once more I pray, what is that to the
purpose ?

Captain.—Nay, then, without farther metaphor, I am
afraid this new production, in which your generosity
seems willing to give me some concern, will stand much
in need of apology, since you think proper to begin your
defence before the case is on trial—The story is hastily
huddled up, I will venture a pint of claret.

Author.—A pint of port, I suppose you mean?

 

Captain.—I say of claret—good claret of the Mon-
asterys Ah, sir, would you but take the advice of your
friends, and try to deserve at least one-half of the public
favour you have met with, we might all drink Tokay!

Author.—I care not what I drink, so the liquor be
wholesome.

Captain.—Care for your reputation, then,—for your
fame.

Author.—My fame?—lI will answer you as a very
ingenious, able, and experienced friend, being counsel for
the notorious Jem MacCoul, replied to the opposite side
of the bar, when they laid weight on his client’s refusing
to answer certain queries, which they said any man who
had a regard for his reputation would not hesitate to reply24 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

to. “My client,” said he—by the way, Jem was stand-
ing behind him at the time, and a rich scene it was— 1s
so unfortunate as to have no regard for his reputation ;
and I should deal very uncandidly with the Court, should
I say he had any that was worth his attention.”—I am,
though from very different reasons, in Jem’s happy state
of indifference. Let’ fame follow those who have a sub-
stantial shape. A shadow—and an impersonal author is
nothing better—can cast no shade.

Captain.—You are not now, perhaps, so impersonal as
heretofore. These Letters to the Member for the Uni-
versity of Oxford

Author.—Show the wit, genius, and delicacy of the
author, which I heartily wish to see engaged on a subject
of more importance; and show, besides, that the preser-
vation of my character of incognito has engaged early
talent in the discussion of a curious question of evidence.

 

But a cause, however ingeniously pleaded, 1s not therefore
gained. You may remember, the neatly-wrought chain
of circumstantial evidence, so artificially brought forward
to prove Sir Philip Francis’s title to the Letters of Junius,
seemed at first irrefragable ; yet the influence of the rea-
soning has passed away, and Junius, in the general
opinion, is as much unknown as ever. But on this subject
I will not be soothed or provoked into saying one word
more. To say who I am not, would be ‘one step towards
saying who Iam; and as I desire not, any more than a
certain justice of peace mentioned by Shenstone, the neise
er report such things make in the world, I shall continue
to be silent on a subject, which, in my opinion, is very
undeserving the noise that has been made about it, and
ctill more unworthy of the serious employment of such
ingenuity as has been displayed by the young letter.
writer.INTRODUCTORY EPISTLE. 25

Captain.— But allowing, my de:

ar stv, that you care
not for your personal reputation,

or tor that of any
literary person upon whose shoulders

your faults may be
visited, allow me to sa

ay, that common gratitude to the
public, which has received you so kindly,
critics, who have

and to the
treated you so leniently, , ought to induce
you to bestow more pains on your story.

Author.—I do entreat you, my son, as Dr. Johnson
would have said, “ free your mind from cant.” For the
eritics, they have their business, and I mine; as the nur-
sery proverb goes—

‘ The children in Holland take pleasure in making
What the children in England take pleasure in breaking.”

I am their humble jackal, too busy in providing food for
them, to have time for considering whether they swallow
or reject it—To the public, I stand pretty nearly in the
relation of the postman who leaves a packet at the door
of an individual. If it contains pleasing intelligence, a
billet from a mistress, a letter from an absent son, a re-
mittance from a correspondent supposed to be bankrupt,
—the letter is acceptably welcome, and read. and re-read,
folded up, filed, and safely deposited in the bureau. If
the contents are disagreeable, if it comes from a dun or
from a bore, the correspondent is cursed, the letter is
thrown into the fire, and the expense of postage is
heartily regretted ; while all the time the bearer of the
despatches is, in either case, as little thought on as the
snow of last Christmas. The utmost extent of kindness
between the author and the public which can really exist,

is, that the world are disposed to be somewhat indulgent
to the succeeding works of an original favourite, were it
but on account of the habit which the public mind has

re a= AN,

A

  
    
      
  
  
   
 
   
   
 
  
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
  
  
 
 

 

nae26 = WAVERLEY NOVELS.

acquired ; while the author very naturally thinks well of
their taste, who have so liberally applauded his produc-
tions. But I deny there is any call for gratitude, prop-
erly so called, either on one side or the other.

Oaptatn.—Respect to yourself, then, ought to teach
caition.

Author—Ay, if caution could augment the chance of
iy success. But, to confess to you the truth, the works
and passages in which I have succeeded, have uniformly
been written with the greatest rapidity ; and when I have
seen some of these placed in opposition with others, and
commended as more highly finished, I could appeal to pen
and standish, that the parts in which I have come feebly
off, were by much the more laboured. Besides, I doubt
the beneficial effect of too much delay, both on account
of the author and the public. A man should strike while
the iron is hot, and hoist sail while the wind is fair. If
a successful author keep not the stage, another instantly
takes his ground. Ifa writer lie by for ten years ere he
produces a second work, he is superseded by others; or,
if the age is so poor of genius that this does not happen,
his own reputation becomes his greatest obstacle. The
public will expect the new work to be ten times better
than its predecessor ; the author will expect it should be
ten times more popular, and ’tis a hundred to ten that
both are disappointed.

Captain.—This may justify a certain degree of rapid-
ity in publication, but not that which is proverbially said
vo be no speed. You should take time at least to arrange
your story. -

Author.—That is a sore point with me, my son. Be-
lieve me, I have not been fool enough to neglect ordinary
precautions. I have repeatedly laid down my future®
INIRBGDUCTORY EPISTLE. 27

work to scale, divided it into volumes and chapters, and
endeavoured to construct a story which I meant should
evolve itself gradually and strikingly, maintain suspense,
and stimulate curiosity ; and which, finally, should ter-
minate in a striking catastrophe. But I think there is a
demon who seats himself on the feather of my pen when
I begin to write, and leads it astray from the purpose,
Characters expand under my hand; incidents are multi-
plied; the story lingers, while the materials increase ;
my regular mansion turns out a Gothic anomaly, and the
work is closed long before I have attained the point [
proposed.

 

—

~ Captain. — Resolution and determined forbearance
might remedy that evil.

Author.—Alas! my dear sir, you do not know the
force of paternal affection. When I light on such a
character as Bailie Jarvie, or Dalgetty, my imagination
brightens, and my conception becomes clearer at every
step which I take in his company, although it leads me
many a weary mile away from the regular road, and
forces me to leap hedge and ditch to get back into the
route again. If I resist the temptation, as you advise
me, my thoughts become prosy, flat, and dull; I write
painfully to myself, and under a consciousness of flagging

AE Rtn nema et

which makes me flag still more; the sunshine with which |
fancy had invested the incidents, departs from them, and

leaves every thing dull and gloomy. I am no more the
same author I was in my better mood, than the dog ina
wheel, condemned to go round and round for hours, is
like the same dog merrily chasing his own tail, and gam~
bolling in all the frolic of unrestrained freedom. In
short, sir, on such occasions I think I am bewitched.

Captain.—-Nay, sir, if you plead sorcery, there is naWAVERLEY NOVELS.

28

more to be said—he must needs go whom the devil
drives. And this, I suppose, sir, is the reason why you
do not make the theatrical attempt to which you have
been so often urged ?

Author.—It may pass for one good reason for not
writing a play, that I cannot form a plot. But the truth
is, that the idea adopted by too favourable judges, of my
luaving some aptitude for that department of poetry, has
been much founded on those scraps of old plays, which,
being taken from a source inaccessible to collectors, they
have hastily considered the offspring of my mother-wit.
Now, the manner in which I became possessed of these
fragments is so extraordinary, that I cannot help telling
it to you.

You must know, that, some twenty years since, I went
down to visit an old friend in Worcestershire, who had

 

served with me in the Dragoons.

Captair.—Then you have served, sir?

Author.—I have—or I have not, which signifies the
same thing—Captain is a good travelling name.—I found
my friend’s house unexpectedly crowded with guests, and,
as usual, was condemned—the mansion being an old one
—to the haunted apartment. I have, as a great modern
said, seen too many ghosts to believe in them, so betook
myself seriously to my repose, lulled by the wind rustling
among the lime-trees, the branches of which chequered
the moonlight, which fell on the floor, through the dia-
monded casement, when, behold, a darker shadow inter-
posed itself, and I beheld, visibly on the floor of the
npartment

Captain.—The White Lady of Avenel, I suppose ?—
You have told the very story before.

Author —No—I beheld a female form with mob-capINTRODUCTORY EPISTLY. 29
bib, and apron, sleeves tucked up to the elbow, a dredging
box in the one hand, and in the other a sauce-ladle. © I
concluded, of course, that it was my friend’s cook-maid
walking in her sleep; and as I knew he had a value for
Sally, who could toss a pancake with any girl in the
country, I got up to conduct her safely to the door. But
as I approached her, she said,—“ Hold, sir! I am not
what you take mefor ; ”—words which seemed so apposite
to the circumstances, that I should not have much minded
them, had it not been for the peculiarly hollow sound in
which they were uttered— Know, then,” she said, in
the same unearthly accents, “that I am the spirit of
Betty Barnes.’—“ Who hanged herself for love of the
stage-coachman,” thought I; “this is a proper spot of
work !”—“ Of that unhappy Elizabeth or Betty Barnes,
long cook-maid to Mr. Warburton, the painful collector,
but ah! the too careless custodier, of the largest collection
of ancient plays ever known—of most of which the titles
only are left to gladden the Prolegomena of the Variorum
Shakspeare. Yes, stranger, it was these ill-fated hands
that consigned to grease and conflagration the scores of
small quartos, which, did they now exist, would drive the
whole Roxburghe Club out of their senses—it was these
unhappy pickers and stealers that singed fat fowls and
wiped dirty trenchers with the lost works of Beaumont
and Fletcher, Massinger, Jonson, Webster—what shall I
say ?—even of Shakspeare himself!”

Like every dramatic antiquary, my ardent curiosity
after some play named in the Book of the Master of
Revels, had often been checked by finding the object of
my research numbered amongst the holocaust of victims
which this unhappy woman had sacrificed to the God of
Good Cheer. It is no wonder then, that, like the Hermit
yf Parnell,WAVERLEY NOVELS.

“TI broke the bands of fear, and madly cried,
‘You careless jade! ’—But scarce the words began,
When Betty brandish’d high her saucing-pan.”’

“ Beware,” she said, “you do not, by your ill-timed
anger, cut off the opportunity I yet have to indemnify the
world for the errors of my ignorance. In yonder coal-
hole, not used for many a year, repose the few greasy
and blackened fragments of the elder Drama which were
not totally destroyed. Do thou then”—-Why, what do
you stare at, Captain? By my soul, it is true; as my
friend Major Longbow says, “ What should I tell youa
lie for ?.”

Captain.—Lie, sir! Nay, Heaven forbid I should
apply the word to a person so veracious. You are only
inclined to chase your tail a little this morning, that’s all.
Had you not better reserve this legend to form an intro-
duction to “'Three Recovered Dramas,” or so ?

Author.—You are quite right—habit’s a strange thing,
my son. I had forgot whom I was speaking to. Yes,
Plays for the closet, not for the stage

Captain.—Right, and so you are sure to be acted; for
the managers, while thousands of volunteers are desirous

 

of serving them, are wonderfully partial to pressed men.

Author.—I am a living witness, having been, like a
second Laberius, made a dramatist whether I would or
not. I believe my muse would be Terryfied into treading
the stage, even if I should write a sermon.

Captain.—Truly, if you did, I am afraid folks might
take a farce of it; and, therefore, should you change
your style, I still advise a volume of dramas like Lord
Byron’s.

Author.—No, his lordship is a cut above me—I won't
rin my horse against his, if I can help myself. But:
INTRODUCTORY EPISTLE. 3]

there is my friend Allan has written Just such a play asi

I might write myself, in a very sunny day, and with one }

of Bramah’s extra patent-pens. I cannot make
work without such appurtenances.
Captain.—Do you mean Allan Ramsay ?
Author—No, nor Barbara Allan either. J] mean
Allan Cunningham, who has just published his tragedy
of Sir Marmaduke Maxwell, full of merry-making and
murdering, kissing and cutting of throats, and passages
which lead to nothing, and which are very pretty pas-
sages for all that. Nota glimpse of probability is there
about the plot, but so much animation in particular pas-
sages, and such a vein of poetry through the whole, as I
dearly wish I could infuse into my Culinary Remains,
should [ ever be tempted to publish them. With a pop-
ular impress, people would read and admire the beauties
of Allan—as it is, they may perhaps only note his defects
—or, what is worse, not note him at all.—But never
mind them, honest Allan; you are a credit to Caledonia
for all that.—There are some lyrical effusions of his, too,

 

which you would do well to read, Captain. “It’s hame,
and it’s hame,” is equal to Burns.

Captain.—I will take the hint. The club at Kenna-
quhair are turned fastidious since Catalani visited the
Abbey. My “ Poortith Cauld” has been received both
poorly and coldly, and “The Banks of Bonnie Doon”
have been positively coughed down— Zempora mutantur.

Author.—They cannot stand still; they will change
with all of us. What then?

“A man’s a man for a’ that.”

But the hour of parting approaches.

Captain.— You are determined to proceed then ir
f

neat |

tw

 

ee32 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

Are you aware that an unworthy motive
d for this rapid succession of publication ?
merely for the lucre of

own system ?
may be assigne
You will be supposed to work
gain.
Author.—Supposi
tages which must be derived fro
join with other motives in inducing me to come more fre-
quently before the public,—that emolument is the volun-
tary tax which the public pays for a certain species of
t—it is extorted from no one, and paid,

ng that I did permit the great advan-
m success in literature, to

literary amusemen
I presume, by those only who can afford it, and who

receive gratification in proportion to the expense. If the

eapital sum which these volumes have put into circula-

tion be a very large one, has it contributed to my indul-

gence only? or can I not say to hundreds, from honest

Duncan the paper-manufacturer, to the most snivelling

of the printer’s devils, “ Didst thou not share? Hadst

thou not fifteen pence?” I profess I think our Modern

‘Athens much obliged to me for having established such
an extensive manufacture; and when universal suffrage
comes in fashion, I intend to stand for a seat in the House
on the interest of all the unwashed artificers connected
with literature.

Captain.—This would be called the language of a cal-
ico manufacturer.

Author.—Cant again, my dear son—there is lime in
this sack, too—nothing but sophistication in this world !
\ do say it, in spite of Adam Smith and his followers, that
a successful author is a productive labourer, and that his
works constitute as effectual a part of the public wealth,
as that which is created by any other manufacture. If a
new commodity, having an actually intrinsic and commer-

cial value, be the result of the operation, why are theINTRODUCTORY EPISTLE. 33

Y

author's bales of books to be esteemed a less profitable
part of the public stock than the goods of any other man-
ufacturer? I speak with reference-to the diffusion of the
wealth arising to the public, and the degree of industry
which even such a trifling work as the present must stim-
ulate and reward, before the volumes leave the publisher’s
shop. Without me it could not exist, and to this extent
I am a benefactor to the country. As for my own emol-
ument, it is won by my toil, and I account myself answer-
able to Heaven only for the mode in which I expend it.
The candid may hope it is not all dedicated to selfish
purposes ; and, without much pretensions to merit in him
who disburses it, a part may “wander, heaven-directed,
to the poor.”

Captain.—Yet it is generally held base to write from
the mere motives of gain.

Author.—It would be base to do so exclusively, or
even to make it a principal motive for literary exertion.
Nay, I will venture to say, that no work of imagination,
proceeding from the mere consideration of a certain sum
of copy-money, ever did, or ever will, succeed. So the

lawyer who pleads, the soldier who fights, the physician
who prescribes, the clergyman—if such there be—whe
preaches, without any zeal for his profession, or without
any sense of its dignity, and merely on account of the fee,
pay, or stipend, degrade themselves to the rank of sordid
mechanics. Accordingly, in the case of two of the
learned faculties at least, their services are considered as
unappreciable, and are acknowledged, not by any exact
estimate of the services rendered, but by a honorarium,
or voluntary acknowledgment. But let a client or patient
make the experiment of omitting this little ceremony of
the honorarium, which is censé to be a thing enfirely out

SONG. KOXGVIL. 384 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

of consideration between them, and mark how the learved
Cant set apart, it 1s

gentleman will look upon his case.
No man of

the same thing with literary emolument.
sense, in any rank of life, is, or ought to be, above accept-
ing a just recompense for his time, and a reasonable

share of the capital which owes its very existence to his
exertions. When Czar Peter wrought in the trenches,
he took the pay of a common soldier; and nobles, states-
men, and divines, the most distinguished of their time,
have not scorned to square accounts with their book

seller.

Captain.— ( Sings.)

“Oh, if it were a mean thing,
The gentles would not use it;
And if it were ungodly,
The clergy would refuse it.”

Author—You say well. But no man of honour,
yenius, or spirit, would make the mere love of gain, the
chief, far less the only, purpose of his labours. For my-
self, I am not displeased to find the game a winning one ;
yet while I pleased the public, I should probably continue
it merely for the pleasure of playing; for I have felt as
strongly as most folks that love of composition, which is
perhaps the strongest of all instincts, driving the author
to the pen, the painter to the pallet, often without either
the chance of fame or the prospect of reward. Perhaps
I have said too much of this. I might, perhaps, with as
much truth as most people, exculpate myself from the
charge of being either of a greedy or mercenary disposi-
tion; but I am not, therefore, hypocrite enough to dis-
claim the ordinary motives, on account of which the
whole world around me is toiling unremittingly, to the
sacrifice of ease, comfort, health, and life. I do not affectINIRUDUCTORY EPISTLE. 35

the disinterestedness of that mene eae of gen-
tlemen mentioned by Goldsmith, who sold their magazine
for sixpence a-piece, merely for their own amusement.

Captain.—I have but one thing more to hint.—The
world say you will run yourself out.

Author.—The world say true: and what then? When
they dance no longer, I will no longer pipe; and I shall
hot want flappers enough to remind me of the apoplexy.

Captain.— And what will become of us then, your poor
family? We shall fall into contempt and oblivion.

Author—Like many a poor fellow, already over-
whelmed with the number of his family, I cannot help
going on to increase it—“ "Tis my vocation, Hal.”—Such
of you as deserve oblivion—perhaps the whole of you—
may be consigned to it. At any rate, you have been
read in your day, which is more than can be said of some
of your contemporaries, of less fortune and more merit.
They cannot say but that you had the crown. It is
always something to have engaged the public attention
for seven years. Had I only written Waverley, I should
have long since been, according to the established phrase,
“the ingenious author of a novel much admired at the
time.” JI believe, on my soul, that the inure of Wa-
verley is sustained very much by the praises of those who
may be inclined to prefer that tale to its successors.

Captain.— You are willing, then, to barter future repu-
tation for present popularity ?

Author.—Meliora Spero. Horace himself expected not
to survive in all his works—I may hope to live in some
of mine ;—zon omnis moriar. It is some consolation te
*eflect, that the best authors in all countries have been
the most voluminous; and it has often happened, that
those who have been best received in their own time,WAVERLEY NOVELS.

have also continued to be acceptable to posterity. 1
do not think so ill of the present generation, as to sup-
pose that its present favour necessarily infers future
condemnation.

Captain.—Were all to act on such principles, the
public would be inundated.

Author.—Once more, my dear son, beware of cant
You speak as if the public were obliged to read books
merely because they are printed—your friends the book-
sellers would thank you to make the proposition good.
The most serious grievance attending such inundations as
you talk of, is, that they make rags dear. The multi-
plicity of publications does the present age no harm, and
may greatly advantage that which is to succeed us.

Captain.—I do not see how that is to happen.

Author.—The complaints in the time of Elizabeth and
James, of the alarming fertility of the press, were as
loud as they are at present—yet look at the shore over
which the inundation of that age flowed, and it resembles
now the Rich Strand of the Faery Queen—

—‘ Bestrew’d all with rich array,
Of pearl and precious stones of great assay;
And all the gravel mix’d with golden ore.”

Believe me, that even in the most neglected works of the
present age, the next may discover treasures.
Captain.—-Some books will defy all alchymy.
Author.—They will be but few in number; since, as
for writers, who are possessed of no merit at all, unless
indeed they publish their works at their own expense,
like Sir Richard Blackmore, their power of annoying the
public will be soon limited by the difficulty of finding
undertaking booksellers.INTRODUCTORY EPISTLE. ot

Captain.—You are incorrigible. Are there no bounds
to your audacity ?

Author.—There are the sacred and eternal boundaries
of honour and virtue. My course is like the enchanted
chamber of Britomart—

“Where as she look’d about, she did behold
How over that same door was likewise writ,
Be Bold—Be Bold, and everywhere Be Bold.
Whereat she mused, and could not construe its
At last she spied at that room’s upper end
Another iron door, on which was writ—

BE NOT TOO Boup.”’

Captain.—W ell, you must take the risk of proceeding
on your own principles.

Author—Do you act on yours, and take care you do
not stay idling here till the dinner hour is over.—I will
add this work to your patrimony, valeat quantum.

Here our dialogue terminated ; for a little sooty-faced
Apollyon from the Canongate came to demand the proof-
sheet on the part of Mr. M‘Corkindale; and I heard
Mr. C. rebuking Mr. F. in another compartment of the
same labyrinth I have described, for suffering any one to
penetrate so far into the penetralia of their temple.

I leave it to you to form your own opinion concerning
the import of this dialogue, and I cannot but believe I
shall meet the wishes of our common parent in prefixing
this letter to the work which it concerns.

I am, reverend and dear Sir,
Very sincerely and affectionately
Yours, &e. &e.
CUTHBERT CLUTTERBUCK.

KENNAQUHAIR,
Ist April, 1822. §

 

— En Re eet SYRy teeTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL

TI D TT
CHAPTER I.
Now Scot and English are agreed,

And Saunders hastes to cross the Tweed,

Where, such the splendours that attend him,
) Lt 3

His very mother scarce had kend him.

His metamorphosis behold,

From Glasgow frieze to cloth of gold;

mad

His back-sword, with the iron hilt,
To rapier, fairly hatch’d and gilt;
Vas ever seen a gallant braver!
His very bonnet’s grown a beaver.
THE REFORMATION.

3

THE long-continued hostilities which had for centuries
separated the south and the north divisions of the IslandWAVERLEY NOVELS

of Britain, had been happily terminated by the succes-
the pacific James i. to the English Crown. But
1e united crown of Engla nd and Scotland was

Bion of
although tl
worn by the same indiv idual, it required a long lapse of
tine, and the succession of more than one generation,
ere the inveterate national prejudices which had so long
existed betwixt the sister kingdoms were removed, and
the subjects of either side of the Ty weed brought to regard
those upon the opposite bank as friends and as brethren.

These prejudices were, of course, most inveterate during
the reign of King James. The English subjects accused
him of partiality to those of his anc ient kingdom; while
the Scots, with equal injustice, charged him with having
forgotten the land of his nativity, and with neglecting
those early friends to whose allegiance he had been so
much indebted.

The temper of the King, peaceable even to timidity,
inclined him perpetually to interfere as mediator between
the contending factions, whose brawls disturbed the court.
But, notwithstanding all his precautions, historians have
recorded many instances, where the mutual hatred of two
nations, who, after being enemies for a thousand years,
had been so very recently united, broke forth with a fury
which menaced a general convulsion; and, spreading
from the highest to the lowest classes, as it occasioned
debates in council and parliament, factions in the court,
and duels among the gentry, was no less productive of
riots and brawls amongst the lower orders.

While these heart-burnings were at the highest, there
flourished in the city of London an ingenious, but whimsi-
eal and self-opinioned mechanic, much devoted to abstract
studies, David Ramsay by name, who, whether recom-
mended by his great skill in his profession, as the cour-THE

 

FORTUNES OF NIGEL, 4]

tiers allered, or, as was murmured a1 nong his neig
by his birthplace, in the good town of Dalkeith, near
Edinburgh, held in James’s household the post of maker
of watches and horologes to his Majesty. He scorned
not, however, to keep open shop within Temple-Bar, a
few yards to the eastward of Saint Dunstan’s Church.
The shop of a London tradesman at that time, as it may
be supposed, was something very different from those we
now see in the same locality. The goods were exposed
to sale in cases, only defended from the weather b
covering of canvas, and the whole resembled the stalls
and booths now erected for the temporary accommodation
of dealers at a country fair, rather than the established
emporium of a respectable citizen. But most of the shop-
Keepers of note, and David Ramsay amongst others, had
their booth connected with a small apartment which
opened backward from it, and bore the same resemblance
to the front shop that Robinson Crusoe’s cavern did to
the tent which he erected before it. To this Master
Ramsay was often accustomed to retreat to the labour of
his abstruse calculations; for he aimed at improvement
and discoveries in his own art, and sometimes pushed his
researches, like Napier, and other mathematicians of the
period, into abstract science. When thus engaged, he left
the outer posts of his commercial establishment to be
maintained by two stout-bodied and strong-voiced appren-
tices, who kept up the cry of, “ What d’ye lack? what
d’ye lack?” accompanied with the appropriate recom-
mendations of the articles in which they dealt. This
direct and personal application for custom to those whe
chanced to pass by, is now, we believe, limited to Mon
mouth Street, (if it still exists even in that repository of
anciert varments,) under the guardianship nf the scattered

mo

 

= ee42 - WAVERLEY NOVELS.

-ael. But at the time we are speaking of,
it was practised alike by Jew and Gentile, and served,
instead of all our present newspaper puffs and advertise-
ments, to solicit the attention of the public in general, and
of friends in particular, to the unrivalled excellence of the
goods, which they offered to sale upon such easy terms,
that it might fairly appear that the vendors had rather a
view to the general service of the public, than to their

remnant of Is

own particular advantage.

The verbal proclaimers of the excellence of their com-
modities, had this advantage over those who, in the
present day, use the public papers for the same purpose,
that they could in many cases adapt their address to the
peculiar appearance and apparent taste of the passengers.
[This, as we have said, was also the case in Monmouth
Street in our remembrance. We have ourselves been
reminded of the deficiencies of our femoral habiliments,
and exhorted upon that score to fit ourselves more be-
seemingly; but this is a diseression.| This direct and
personal mode of invitation to customers became, how-
ever, a dangerous temptation to the young wags who
were employed in the task of solicitation during the ab-
sence of the principal person interested in the traffic;
and, confiding in their numbers and civic union, the
*prentices of London were often seduced into taking liber-
ties with the passengers, and exercising their wit at the
expense of those whom they had no hopes of converting
into customers by their eloquence. If this were resented
by any act of violence, the inmates of each shop were
ready to pour forth in succour; and in the words of an
old song which Dr. Johnson was used to hum,—

‘‘ Up then rose the ’prentices all,
Living in London, both proper and tall.”THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL.

Desperate riots often arose on such occasions, especi«
ally when the Templars, or other youths connected with
the aristocracy, were insulted, or conceived themselves to
be so. Upon such oc sasions, bare steel was frequently
opposed to the clubs of the citizens, and death sometimes
ensued on both sides. The tardy and inefficient police
of the time had no other resource than by the Alderman
of the ward calling out the householders, and putting a
stop to the strife by overpowering numbers, as the Capu-
lets and Montagues are separated upon the stage.

At the period when such was the universal custom of
the most respectable, as well as the most inconsiderable,
shopkeepers in London, David Ramsay, on the evening
to which we solicit the attention of the reader, retiring to
more abtruse and private labours, left the administration
of his outer shop, or booth, to the aforesaid sharp-witted,
active, able-bodied, and well-voiced apprentices, namely,
Jenkin Vincent and Frank Tunstall.

Vincent had been educated at the excellent foundation
of Christ’s-Church Hospital, and was bred, therefore, as
well as born, a Londoner, with all the acuteness, address,
and audacity, which belong peculiarly to the youth of a
metropolis. He was now about twenty years old, short
in stature, but remarkably strong made, eminent for his
feats upon holidays at foot-ball, and other gymnastic
. exercises; scarce rivalled in the broadsword play, though
hitherto only exercised in the form of single-stick. He
knew every lane, blind alley, and sequestered court of
the ward, better than his Catechism; was alike active in
his master’s affairs, and in his own adventures of fun and
mischief; and so managed matters, that the credit he

acquired by the former bore him out, or at least served”

tor his apology, when the latter propensity led him into44 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

scrapes, of which, however, it is but fair. to state, that
they had hitherto inferre .d nothing mean or discredit table.
Some aberrations there were, which Dav id Ramsay, his
master, endeavoured to reduce to regular order when he
discovered them, and others which he winked at—suppos-
ing them to answer the purpose of the escapement of a
watch, which disposes of a certain qui antity of the extra
power of that mechanical impulse which puts the whole
In motion.

The physiognomy of Jin Vin
he was familiarly known through the epee esponded
with the sketch we have given of his character. His
head, upon which his ’prentice’s flat cap was cenerally
flung in a careless and oblique fashion, was closely

ich abbreviation

           

covered with thick hair of raven black, which curled
naturally and closely, and would have grown to great
length, but for the modest custom enjoined by his state
of life, and strictly enforced by his master, which com-
pelled him to keep it short-cropped,—not unreluctantly,
as he looked with envy on the flowing ringlets, in w hich
the courtiers, and aristocratic students of the n eighbeunng
Temple, began to indulge themselves, as marks of supe-
riority and of gentility. Vincent’s eyes were deep set in
his head, of a strong vivid black, full of fire, roguery, and
intelligence, and conveying a humorous expression, even
while he was uttering the usual small-talk of his trade, as
if he ridiculed those who were disposed to give any
weight to his commonplaces. He had address enough,
however, to add little touches of his own, which gave a
turn of drollery even to this ordinary routine of the booth;
and the alacrity of his manner—his ready and obvious
wish to oblige—his intelligence and civility, when he
thought civility necessary, made him a universal favouriteTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 45

with his master’s customers. His features were far from
regular, for his nose was flattish, his mouth tending to the
larger size, and his complexion inchning to be more dark
than was then thought consistent with masculine beauty.
But, in despite of his having always breathed the air of a
erowded city, his complexion had the ruddy and manly
expression of redundant health ; his turned-up nose gave
an air of spirit and raillery to what he said, and seconded
the laugh of his eyes; and his wide mouth was garnished
with a pair of well-formed and well-coloured lips, which,
when he laughed, disclosed a range of teeth strong and
well set, and as white as the very pearl. Such was the
elder apprentice of David Ramsay, Memory’s Monitor,
watchmaker, and constructor of horologes, to his Most
Sacred Majesty James I.

Jenkin’s companion was the younger apprentice, though,
perhaps, he might be the elder of the two in years. At
any rate, he was of a much more staid and composed
temper. Francis Tunstall was of that ancient and proud
descent who-claimed the style of the “unstained ;” be-
cause, amid the various chances of the long and bloody
wars of the Roses, they had, with undeviating faith, fol-
lowed the House of Lancaster, to which they had orig-
inally attached themselves. The meanest sprig of such
a tree attached importance to the root from which it
derived itself; and Tunstall was supposed to nourish in
secret a proportion of that family pride, which had ex-
torted tears from his widowed and almost indigent mother,
when she saw herself obliged to consign him to a line of
life inferior, as her prejudices suggested, to the course held
by his progenitors. Yet, with all this aristocratic preju-
lice, his master found the well-born youth more docile,
cegular, and strictly attentive to his duty, thar his far

    
  
    
  
 
  
   
   
   
    
    
 
 
 
 
   
  
 
  
 
 

mare G246 WAVERLEY NOVELS

Tunstall also gratified
his master by the pa rticular attention which he seemed
disposed to bestow on the abstract principles of science
connected with ae trade which he was bound to study,
the limits of which were daily enlarged with the increase

more active and alert comrade.

of mathematical science.

Vincent beat his companion beyond the distance-post,
in every thing like the practics il adaptation of thorough
practice, in the dexterity of hand necessary to execute
the mechanical branches of the art, and double-distanced
him in all respecting the commercial affairs of the shop.
Still David Ramsay was wont to say, that if Vincent
knew how to do a thing the better of the two, Tunstall
was much better acquainted with the principles on which
it ought to be done; and he sometimes objected to the
latter, that he knew critical excellence too well ever to
be satisfied with practical mediocrity.

The disposition of Tunstall was shy, as well as studi-
ous; and, though perfectly civil and obliging, he never
seemed to feel himself in his place while he went through
the duties of the ee He was tall and handsome, with
fair hair, and well-formed limbs, good features, well
opened light hing eyes, a straight Grecian nose, and a

countenance which expressed both good-humour and in-
telligence, but qualified by a gravity unsuitable to his
a

years, and which almost amounted to dejection. He

Vv a
stood by him whenever he was engaged in any of the

lived on the best terms with his companion, and readily

frequent skirmishes, which, as we have already observed,
‘ ’ _ Tr > } ay x7 ry T 1 t 1 ;
piten disturbed the city of London about. this period.
en - de
But though Tunstall was allowed to understand quarter-
strait (the weapon of the North country) in a superior
tegree, and thougn he was naturally both strong and

eoTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 47

active, his interference in such affrays seemed always
matter of necessity; and, as he-never volunt arily joined
either their brawls or their sports, he held a far lower
place in the opinion of the youth of the ward than his
hearty and active friend Jin Vin. Nay, had it not been
for the interest made for his comrade, by the intercession
of Vincent, Tunstall would have stood some chance of
being altogether excluded from the society of his contem-
poraries of the same condition, who called him, in scorn,
the Cavaliero Cuddy, and the Gentle Tunstall.- On the

~

other hand, the lad himself, deprived of the fresh air in
which he had been brought up, and foregoing the exercise
to which he had been formerly accustomed, while the in-
habitant of his native mansion, lost gradually the freshness
of his complexion, and, without showing any symptoms
of disease, grew more thin and pale as he grew older,
and at length exhibited the appearance of indifferent
health, without any thing of the habits and complaints of
an invalid, excepting a disposition to avoid society, and
to spend his leisure time in private study, rather than
mingle in the sports of his companions, or even resort to
the theatres, then the general rendezvous of his class;
where, according to high authority, they fought for half-
bitten apples, cracked nuts, and filled the upper gallery
with their clamours.

Such were the two youths who called David Ramsay
master; and with both of whom he used to fret from

—

morning | il]
own, or with the quiet < nd beneficial course of his trafiie.

Oar

night, as their p yeculiarities interfered with his

Upon the whole, however, the youths were attached to

- 7 : SpE 1 ae : ‘ ye
chair master, and he, a good-natured, though an absent
and whimsical man, was scarce less so to them; and,

when a little warmed with wine at an occasional junket-48 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

ing, he used to boast, in his northern dialect, of his “twa
bonny lads, and the looks that the court ladies threw at
them, when visiting his shop in their caroches, when on a
frolic into the city.” But David Ramgay never failed, at
the same time, to draw up his own tall, thin, lathy skeleton,
extend his lean jaws into an alarming grin, and indicate,
by a nod of his yard-long visage, and a twinkle of his
little gray eye, that there might be more faces in Fleet
Street worth looking at than those of Frank and Jenkin.
His old neighbour, Widow Simmons, the sempstress, who
had served, in her day, the very tip-top revellers of the
Temple, with ruffs, cuffs, and bands, distinguished more
deeply the sort of attention paid by the females of quality,
who so regularly visited David Ramsay’s shop, to its
inmates. “The boy Frank,” she admitted, “used to
atiract the attention of the young ladies, as having some-
thing gentle and downcast in his looks ; but then he could
not better himself, for the poor youth had not a word to
throw ata dog. Now, Jin Vin was so fu
his jeers, and so willing, and-so ready, and so serviceable,
and so mannerly all the while. with a step that sprung
like a buck’s in Epping Forest, and his eye that twinkled
as black as a gipsy’s, that no woman who knew the world
would make a comparison betwixt the lads. As for poor
neighbour Ramsay himself, the man,” she said, “was a
civil neighbour, and a learned man, doubtless, and might be
a rich man, if he had common se :

ll of his gibes and

nse to back his learning
and doubtless, for a Scot, neighbour Ramsay was nothing
of a bad man, but he was so constar ane erimed with
smoke, gilded with brass filings, and smeared with lamp-
black and oil, that Dame Simmons judged
quire his whole shopful of watel ‘ind
woman to touch the said neig
thing save a pair of tongs.”

it would re-
1es to induce any feasible
hbour Ramsay with anyTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. AG

A still higher authority, Dame Ursula, wife to Benja-
min Suddlechop, the barber, was of exactly the
opinion.

same

€
the two youths, who, in a fine A pril day, having first
rendered their dutiful service and attendance on the table
of their master and his daughter, at their dinner at one
o’clock,—Such, O ye lads of London, was the severe
discipline undergone by your predecessors !—and having
regaled themselves upon the f fragments, in compat 1y with
two female domestics, one a cook and maid of all work,
the other called Mistress Margaret’s maid, now relieved

Such were, in natural qualities and public estimation,

their master in the duty of the outward shop ; and agree-
ably to the established custom, were soliciting, by their
entreaties and recommendations of their master’s manu-
facture, the attention and encouragement of the pas-
sengers.

In this species of service it may be easily supposed
that Jenkin Vincent left his more reserved and bashful
comrade far in the background. The latter could only
articulate with difficulty, and as an act of duty which he
was rather ashamed of discharging, the established words
of form—“ What d’ye lack ?>— What d’ye lack -—Clocks

 

 

—watches—barnacles °—What d’ye lack?—Watches—
clocks—barnacles >What d’ye lack, sir ?—What d’ye
lack, madam ?— Barnacles—watches—clocks ? ”

But this dull and dry“iteration, however varied by diver-
sity of verbal arrangement, sounded flat when mingled
with the rich and recommendatory oratory of the bold-
faced, deep-mouthed, and ready-witted Jenkin Vincent.—
“ What dye lack, noble sir?—What d’ye lack, beauteous
madam ?”—he said, in a tone at once bold and soothing,
ewhich often was so applied as both to gratify the persons
4

VOL. XXVII.

   

    
 
 
 
 
  
  
       
  
  
  
   
    
   
   
 
 
 
 
  
  
  

pe =

DE joi

BTR TTS es

a a :
glasses will never suit one of his year

D0 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

addressed, and to excite a smile from other hearers.—
“(;od bless your reverence,” to a beneficed clergyman,
“the Greek and Hebrew have harmed your reverence’s
eyes—Buy a pair of David Ramsay’s
King—God bless his Sacred Majesty !—never reads
Hebrew or Greek without them.”

“ Are you well avised of that,” said a fat parson from
the Vale of Evesham. “Nay, if the Head of the Church

barnacles. ‘The

wears them,—God bless his Sacred Majesty !—TI will try

I have not been able te

i Cc

what they can do for me; for
distinguish one Hebrew letter from another, sinecee—I can-
Choose

own wearing, my

not remember the time—when [I had a bad fever.

me a pair of his most Sacred Majesty’s
good youth.”

“This is a pair, and please your reverence,” said Jen-

kin, producing a pair of spectacles which he touched

with an air oh oreat deference and ie “which his

most blessed Majesty placed this day three weeks on his

own blessed nose; and would have on them for his own

sacred use, but that the setting being, as your reverence

sees, of the purest jet, was, as his Sacred Majesty was
pleased to say, fitter for a bishop, than for a secular
prince.”

“His Sacred Majesty the King,” said the worthy
divine, “ was ever a very Daniel in his judgment. Give
me the barnacles, my good youth, and who can say what
nose they may bestride in two years hence ?—our rever-
end brother of Gloucester waxes in years.” He then
pulled out his purse, paid for the spectacles, and left the

shop with even a more important step than that which

had paused to enter it.

ye he Dee at re 7
or shame,” said Tunstall to his companion; “these

iaTHh-¥FORTUNES OF NIGEL. ol

NY RR ter a3 Ss rT: :
“You are a fool, Frank,” said \ Incent, in reply ; “ had

the good doctor wished glasses to read with, he would
have tried them before buying. He does not want to

look through them himself, and

oC

these will serve the pur-
pose of being looked at by other folks, as well as the best
magnifiers in the shop.—What @ye lack?” he eried,
resuming his solicitations. “ Mirrors for your toilette, my
pretty madam; your head-gear is something ante Ny
since it is so well fancied.” The woman sto opped and
bought a mirror—* What d’ye lack ?—a we atch, Master
Sergeant— a watch that will go as long as a lawsuit, as
steady and true as your own eloquence ?”

“Hold your peace, sir,” answered the Knight of the
Coif, who was disturbed by Vin’s address whilst in deep
consultation with an eminent attorney ; “hold your peace!
You are the loudest-tongued varlet betwixt the Devil’s
Tavern and Guildhall.”

“A watch,” reiterated the undaunted Jenkin, “that
shall not lose thirteen minutes in a thirteen year’s lawsuit.
—He’s out of hearing—A watch with four wheels and a
bar-movement

 

a watch that shall tell you, Master Poet,
how long the ee of the audience will endure your
next piece at the Black Bull.” The bard laughed, and
fumbled in the ee of his slops till he chased into a
corner, and fairly caught, a small piece of coin.

S Hicre is a tester to cherish thy wit, good boy,” he
said.

“Gramercy,” said Vin; “at the next play of yours I
will bring down a set of roaring boys that shall make all
the critics in the pit, and the gallants on the stage, civil,
pr else the curtain shall smoke tor Fis

“Now, that I call mean,” said Tunstall, “to take the
por rhymer’s movey, who has so little left behind.”

i eminem inno52 WAVERLEY NOVELS

“You are an owl, once again,” said Vincent; “ if he
has nothing left to buy cheese and radishes, he will only
dine a day the sooner with some patron or some player
for that is his fate five days out of the seven. [t is un-
natural that a poet should pay for his own pot of beer;
I will drink his tester for him, to save him from such
shame: and when his third night comes round, he shall
have penniworths for his coin I promise you.— But here
romes another guess-customer. Look at that strange
fellow—see how he gapes at every shop, as if he would
swallow the wares.—Oh! Saint Dunstan has caught his
eye; pray God he swallow not the images. See how he
stands astonished, as old Adam and Eve ply their ding-
dong! Come, Frank, thou art a scholar; construe me
that same fellow, with his blue cap with a cock’s feather
in it, to show he’s of gentle blood, God wot—his gray
eyes, his ee hair, his sword with a ton of iron in
the handle—his gray threadbare cloak—his step like a
Frenchman—his look like a Spaniard—a book at his
girdle, and a broad dudgeon-dagger on the other side, to
show him half-pedant, half- -bully. How call you that

ye

 

pageant, Frank ? ”

“ A raw Scotsman,” said Tunstall; “just come up, I
suppose, to help the rest of his countrymen to gnaw old
England’s bones; a palmerworm, I reckon, to devour
what the locust has spared.”

“Kiven so, Frank,’ answered Vincent; “just as the
poet sings sweetly,—

‘In Scotland he was born and bred,
And, though a beggar, must be fed.’ ”’

“ Hush!” said Tunstall, “remember our master.”

“Pshaw!” answered his mercurial companion; “ he
knows on which side his bread is buttered, and I warrantTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. a0

you has not lived so long among Englishmen, andl by
Englishmen, to quarrel with us for bearing an English
mind. But see, our Scot has done gazing at Saint
Punstan’s, and comes our way. By this light, a proper
lad and a sturdy, in spite of freckles and sun-burning.—
He comes nearer still; I will have at him.”

“And, if you do,” said his comrade, “ you may get a
broken head—he looks not as if he would carry coals.”

“A fig for your threat,’ said Vincent, and instantly
addressed the stranger. “ Buy a watch, most noble
northern Thane—buy a watch, to count the hours of
plenty since the blessed moment you left Berwick behind
you.—Buy barnacles, to see the English gold lies ready
for your gripe.—Buy what you will, you shall have
ercdit for three days ; for, were your pockets as bare as
Father Fergus’s, you are a Scot in London, and you will
be stocked in that time.” The stranger looked sternly at
the waggish apprentice, and seemed to grasp his cudgel
in rather a menacing fashion. “Buy physic,” said the
undaunted Vincent, “if you will buy neither time nor
light—physic for a proud stomach, sir ;—there is a ’pothe-
eary’s shop on the other side of the way.”

Here the probationary disciple of Galen, who stood at
his master’s door in his flat cap and canvas sleeves, with
a large wooden pestle in his hand, took up the ball which
was flung to him by Jenkjn, with ¢ Whit dye lacks, sir?
—Buy a choice Catedoaian’, salve, £ los”, sulpher. cum
butyro quant. suff’ >’ ak ets

“To be taken atter,a gentle: subbing-

dowh: with an
Enelish oaken towel,” said Vincent.

The bonny Scot had given full scope to the play of
this small artillery of city wit, by halting his stately pace,

: 1 +}
iewi ‘ ‘S assailant n the
and viewing grimly, first the one assailant, and theaia cecal

54 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

other, as if menacing either repartee or more violent
revenge. But phlegm or prudence got the better of his
indignation, and tossing his head as one who valued not
the raillery to which he had been exposed, he walked

down Fleet Street, pursued by the horse-laugh of his
tormentors.

“The Scot will not fight till he see his own blood,
said Tunstall, whom his north of England extraction had
made familiar with all manner of proverbs against those
who lay yet farth Saou than himself.

‘Maith,- I a not,’ said Jenkin; “he looks dan-
gerous, that fellow—he will hit some one over the noddle
before he goes far. Hark!

Accordingly, the well-known cry of “’ Prentices—’pren-

   

ark !—they are rising.”

Clubs—clubs!” now rang along Fleet Street;

 

tices
1

and Jenkin snatching up his weapon, which lay beneath
the counter ready at the slightest notice, and calling to

4

Tunstall to take his bat and follow, leaped over the hatch-
door which protected the cateethop. and ran as fast as
he could towards the affray, echoing the cry as he ran,
and elbowing, or shoving aside, whoever stood in his way.
rive an eye to

His comrade, first calling to his master to g
the shop, followed Jenkin’s example, and ran after him

as fast as he could, but with more attention to the safety

and convenience of others; while old David Ramsay,*
are Toe a at ‘

* Dawid Raungay, wat chotak er and hotoldger to James J., was a
real person, thoush the ‘author ‘has ‘taken the liberty of pressing him
into thd sérvies of: fiction. Ajthough his profession led him to culti-
vatec thé pxact scien ces, ‘like Ingny at this period he mingled them
with pursuits which were mystical and fantastic. The truth was,
that the boundaries between truth and falsehood in mathematics,
astronomy, and sania pursuits, were not exactly known, and there
existed a sort of terra incognita between them, in which the wisest
men bewildered themselves. David Ramsay risked his money onTHE EORAUNES “OR NIGET,. ve
; € Je { WAC 11} V0 ‘ a fi? 2
with hands and eyes uplifted, a green apron before him,

: ee atc al 1 a0 rahi ,
and a glass which he had been polishing thrust into his

<
e n

bosom, came forth to look after the safety of

the success of the vaticinations which his researches led him to form.
since he sold clocks and watches under condition, that their vale
Bhould not become p:
chair at Rome. Suc

wyable till King James was crowned in the Pope’s
ch wagers were common in that day, as may be
seen by looking at Jonson’s Every Man out of his Humour.

David Ramsay was also an actor in another singular scene, in which
the notorious astrologer Lilly was a performer, and had no small ex-
pectation on the occasion, since he brought with him a half-quartern
sack to put the treasure in.

“ David Ramsay, his Majesty’s~clock-maker, had been informed
that there was a great quantity of treasure buried in the cloister of
Westminster Abbey. He acquaints Dean Withnam therewith, who
was also then Bishop of Lincoln. The Dean gave him liberty te
search after it, with this proviso, that if any was discovered, his
church should have a share of it. Davy Ramsay finds out one John
Scott, who pretended the use of the Mosaical- rods to assist him
herein.* I was desired to join with him, unto which I consented.
One winter’s night, Davy Ramsay, with several gentlemen, myself,

and Scott, entered the cloisters. We played the hazel rods round
about the cloisters. Upon the west end of the cloisters the rods

turned one over another, an argument that the treasure was there.
The lxbourersedigged at least six feet deep, and then we met with a
coffin; but which, in regard it was not heavy, we did not open, which
we afterwards much repented.

‘‘ From the cloisters we went into the abbey church, where, upon a
sudden, (there being no wind when we began,) so fierce and so high,
so blustering and lond a wind did rise, that we verily believed the
west end of the church would have fallen upon us. Our rods would
not move at all; the candles and torches, also, but one were extin-
puished, or burned very dimly. John Scott, my partner, was : mazed,
looked pale, knew not what to think or do, until I gave directions and
command to dismiss the demons; which, when done, all was quiet
again, and each man returned unto his lodging late, about twelve
o'clock at nicht. I could never since be induced to jcin with any
such like actions.

* The same now called, I believe, the Divining Rod, and applied to the dis

sovery. of water not obvious to the eye-s

on aaa

alee

SE

      
   
 
 
  
  
  
 
  
 
  
 
   
  
  
 
 
 
  
  
 
   

ob WAVERLEY NOVELS.

and chattels, knowing, by old experience, that, when the
ery of “ Clubs” once arose, he would have little aid on
the part of his apprentices

‘The true miscarriage of the business was by reason of so» many
peope being present at the operation; for there was about thirty
some laughing, others deriding us; so that, if we had not dismissed
the demons, I believe most part of the abbey church would have
been blown down. Secrecy and intelligent operators, with a strong
confidence and knowledge of what they are doing, are best for the

work. »_Triuty’s Life and Times, p. 46.

David Ramsay had a son called William Ramsay, who appears to
have posses ce all his father’s credulity. He became an astrologer,
and in 1651-2, published “ Vox Stellarum, an Introduction to the
Judgment of E blips es and the Annual Revolutions of the World.”
The edition of 1652 is inscribed to his father. It would appear, as
indeed it might ry argued from his mode of disposing of his goods,
that the old horologer had omitted to make hay while the sun shone;
for his son, in his dedication, has this exception to the paternal vir-
tues, “It’s true your carelessness in laying up while the sun shone for
the tempests of a stormy day, hath given occasion to some inferior
spirited people not to value you according to what you are by nature
and in yourself, for such look not to a man longer than he is in
prosperity, esteeming none but for their wealth, not wisdom, power,
nor virtue.’? From these expressions, it is to be apprehended that
while old David Ramsay, a follower of the Stewarts, sunk under the
Parliament government, his son, William, had advanced from being a
dupe to astrology te the dignity of being himself a cheat.THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL,

  
   
  
  
 
    
  
 
 
 
  
    
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 

CHAPTER It.

This, sir, is one among the Seignory,

Has wealth at will, and will to use his wealth,

And wit to increase it. Marry, his worst folly

Lies in a thriftless sort of charity,

That goes a-gadding sometimes after objects,

Which wise men will not see when thrust upon them.

THE OLD CouPLE.

THE ancient gentleman bustled about his shop, in pet-
ish displeasure at being summoned hither so hastily, to
the interruption of his more abstract studies ; and unwil-
ling to renounce the train of calculation which he had put
in progress, he mingled whimsically with the fragments
of the arithmetical operation, his oratory to the passen-
gers, and angry reflections on his idle apprentices. “ What

d’ye lack, sir ?—Madam, what d’ye lack-—clocks for hall

 

 

or table—night-watches—day-watches ?—Locking wheel
being 48—the power of retort 8—the striking pins are 48
—What d’ye lack, honoured sir?—TZhe quotient—the
multiplicand—That the knaves should have gone out at
this blessed minute !—the acceleration being at the rate of
5 minutes, 55 seconds, 58 thirds, 59 fourths—I will switch
them both when they come back—I will, by the bones
of the immortal Napier! ”

Here the vexed philosopher was interrupted by the
entrance of a grave citizen of a most respectable appear:
ance, who, saluting him familiarly by the name “ Davie,a8 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

my old acquaintance,” demanded what had put him so

9 much out of sorts, and gave him at the same time a cor-
S

dial grasp of his hand.

\ The stranger’s dress was, though grave, rather richer
I than usual. His paned hose were of black velvet, lined
| : with purple silk, which garniture appeared at the slashes.
Bi His doublet was of purple cloth, and his short cloak of
‘ 3 black velvet to correspond with his hose; and both were
j adorned with a great number of small silver buttons
’ richly wrought in filigree. A triple chain of gold hung
round his neck; and, in place of a sword or dagger, he

H wore at his belt an ordinary knife for the purpose of the
table, with a small silver case, which appeared to contain

writing materials. He might have seemed some secre-

tary or clerk engaged in us service of the public, only

that his low, flat, and unadorned cap », and his well-blacked

iE shining shoes, indicated cha he belonged to the city. He

was a well-made man, about the middle size, and seemed
firm in health, though advanced in years. His looks ex-

pressed sagacity and good-humour ; and the air of respec-

}

tability which his dress announced, was well supported
by his clear eye, ruddy cheek, and gray hair. He used

¢

the Scottish idiom in his first address. but in such a man-

i

ner that it could hardly be distinguished whether he was

passing upon his friend a sort of jocose mockery, or
whether it was his own native dialect, for his ordinary
discourse had little provincialism.

In answer to the queries of his reg spectable friend,
Ramsay g groaned heavily, answering by echoing back the

question, “ What ails me, Mast

CO

3
I

reorge? Why, every
thing ails me! [ profess to you that a man may as well
live in EF airyland as in the Ward of F arrinedon- Without.

My apprentices are turned into mere goblins-—they ap.THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 5%

pear and disappear like spunkies, and have no more
regularity in them than a watch without a scapement.
If there is a ball to be tossed up, or a bullock to be
driven mad, or a quean to be ducked for scolding, or a
head to be broken, Jenkin is sure to be at the one end or
the other of it, and then away skips Francis Tunstall for
company. I think the prize- flohtens, bear-leaders, and
mountebanks, are in a league against me, my dear friend,
and that they pass my house ten times for any other in
the city. Here’s an Italian fellow come over, too, that

33

 

they call Punchinello ; and, altogether
“Well,” interrupted Master George, “but what is all
this to the present case?”
“Why,” replied Ramsay, “here has been a cry of
thieves or murder, (I hope tha will prove the least of it

amongst these English pock-pudding swine!) and I have

been interrupted in the deepest calculation ever mortal
man plunged into, Master George.”
“What, man?” replied Master George, “you must

are a man that deals in time, and

     

take patience
can make it go fast and slow at pleasure ; you, of all the
world, have least reason to complain, if a little of it be
lost now and then.—But here come your boys, and bring-
ing in a slain man betwixt them, J fink here has been
serious mischief, I am afraid.”

“The more mischief, the better sport,” said the crabbed
old watchmaker. “I am blithe, though, that its neithet
of the twa loons themselves—What are ye bringing a
eorpse here for, ye fause villains?” he added, addressing
the two apprentices, who, at the head of a consi derable
mob of their own class, some of whom ak evident
marks of a recent fray, were carrying the body betwixt

them.

sea oR50 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

“ He is not dead yet, sir,” answered Tunstall.

“Carry him into the apothecary’s, then,” replied his
master. “D’ye think I can set a man’s life in motion
again, as if he were a clock or a time-piece ?”

“For godsake, old friend,” said his acquaintance, “ let
us have him here at the nearest—he seems only in a
swoon.”

“A swoon?” said Ramsay, “and what business had he
to swoon in the streets? Only, if it will oblige my friend
Master George, I would take in all the dead men in St.
Dunstan’s parish. Call Sam Porter to look after the
shop.”

So saying, the stunned man, being the identical Scots-
man who had passed a short time before amidst the Jeers
of the apprentices, was carried into the back shop of the
artist, and there placed in an armed chair till the apothe-
cary from over the way came to his assistance. This
gentleman, as sometimes happens to those of the learned
professions, had rather more lore than knowledge, and
began to talk of the sinciput and occiput, and cerebrum
and cerebellum, until he exhausted David Ramsay's
brief stock of patience.

“ Bell-um! bell-ell-um!” he repeated, with great im-
dignation; “ What signify all the bells in London, if
you do not put a plaster on the chield’s crown? ”

Master George, with better-directed zeal, asked the
apothecary whether bleeding might not be useful; when,
after humming and hawing for a moment, and being un-
able, upon the spur of the occasion, to suggest any thing
else, the man of pharmacy observed, that it would, at all
events, relieve the brain of cerebrum, in case there was a
tendency to the depositation of any extravasated blood,
to operate as a pressure upon that delicate organ. For:THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 6}

tunately he was adequate to performing this operation;
and, being powerfully aided by Jenkin Vincent (who was
learned in all cases of broken heads) with plenty of. cold
water, and a little vinegar, applied according to the
scientific method practised by the bottle-holders in a
modern ring, the man began to raise himself on his chair,
draw his cloak tightly around him, and looked about like
one who struggles to recover sense and recollection.

“He had better he down on the bed in the little back
closet,” said Mr. Ramsay’s visitor, who seemed perfectly
familiar with the accommodations which the house af-
forded.

“ He is welcome to my share of the truckle,’ said Jen-
kin,—for in the said back closet were the two apprentices
accommodated in one truckle-bed,—“I can sleep under
the counter.”

“So can I,” said Tunstall, “and the poor fellow can
have the bed all night.”

“Sleep,” said the apothecary, “is in the opinion of
Galen, a restorative and febrifuge, and is most naturally
taken in a truckle-bed.”

“Where a better cannot be come by,” said Master
George; “but these are two honest lads, to give up their
beds so willingly. Come, off with his cloak, and let us
bear him to his couch—I will send for Dr. Irving the
king’s chirurgeon—he does not live far off, and that shall
be my share of the Samaritan’s duty, neighbour Ramsay.”

“Well, sir,” said the apothecary, “ itis at your pleasure
to send for other advice, and I shall not object to consult
with Dr. Irving or any other medical perscn of skill,
neither to continue to furnish such drugs as may be need-
ful from my pharmacopeia. However, whatever Dr.

Irving, who, [ think, hath bad his degrees in Kdinburgh,i

Ne

|

 

62 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

or Dr. Any-one-beside, be he Scottish or English, may

taken timeously, is a fe sbrifuge,

say to the contrary, sleep, t
or sedative, and also a _restorative.”

Te muttered a few more le: arned words, and concluded
msay’s friend in English far more intel-

by informing va
ligible than his Latin, that he would look to him as his
idance, furnished,

paymaster, for medicines, care, and attend
er to be furnished, to this party Ce hs
Master George only r eplied by desiring him to se ond

his bill for what he hs id Bere to charge,
trouble unless he heard from him.

and to give

himself no farther
The pharmacopolist, who, from discoveries made by the
eloak falling a little aside, had no great opinion of the fac-

ulty of this chance patient to mé ake reimbursement, had

no sooner seen his case espoused by a substa tial citizen,

than he showed some reluctance to quit possession of it,
and it needed a short and stern hint from Master George,

which, with all his good-humour, he was capable of ex-
pressing when occasion required, to send to his own
dwelling this Esculapius of Temple-Bar.

When they were rid of f Mr. Re aredrench, the charitable
efforts of Jenkin and Francis, to divest the patient of his
long gray cloak, were aed resisted on his own part.—
fe suner,” he muttered in indistinet

         

“My “life suner
murmurs. In these efforts to retain his upper garment,
which was too tender to resist much handling, it gave way
at length with a loud rent, which almost threw the patient
into a second syncope, and he sat before them in his under
garments, the looped and repaire d wretchedness of which
yhter, and had certainly been

a4
&
o
ar
ic

moved at once pity and |

the cause of his unwillingness to resign the mantle, which,

like the virtue of charity, served tu cover so many Imper-
v / v

fections.THe FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 63

The man himself cast his eyes on his Nays
garb, and seemed so -much ashamed of the disclos ure,
that, muttering between his teeth, that he would be too
late for an appointment, he made an effort to rise and
leave the shop, which was easily prevented by Jenkin Vin-
cent and his comrade, who, at the nod of Master George,
laid hold of and detained him in his chair. The patient
next looked round him for a moment, and then said faintly,
in his broad northern language—* What sort of usage ca’
ye this, gentlemen, to a stranger a sojourner in your town?
Ye hae broken my head—ye hae riven my cloak, and
now ye are for restraining my personal liberty ! They
were wiser than me,” he said, after a moment’s pause,
“that counselled me to wear my warst claithing in the
streets of London; and, if I eae have got ony things
warse than these mean garments —(‘“ which would have
been very ditlicult,” said Jin Vin, in a whisper to his com-
panion, )—“ they would have been e’en ower gude for the
grips o’ men sae little acquented with the laws of honest
civility.”

“To say the truth,” said Jenkin, unable to forbear any
longer, although the dis re e of the times prescribed to
those in his situation a degree of Resp distance and
humility in the presence of parents, masters, or seniors, of
which the present age has no idea—“ to say oie truth, the
good gentleman’s clothes look as if they would not brook
much handling.”

“ Hold your peace, young man,” said Master George,
wilh a tone of authority; “never mock the stranger or
the poor—the black ox has not trod on your foot yet—
you know not what lands you may travel in, or what
elothes you may wear, before you die.”

Vincent held down his head and stood rebuked, but the

464 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

strange. did not accept the apology which was made for
him.

“JT am astranger, sir,” said he, “ that is certain; though
methinks, that, being such, I have been somewhat famil-
iarly treated in this town of yours ;—but, as for my being
poor, I think I need not be charged with poverty till I
seek siller of somebody.”

“The dear country all over,” said Master ee In a
whisper, to David Ramsay, “ pride and poverty.”

But David had taken out his tablets and silver per,
and, deeply immersed in calculations, in which he rambled
over all the terms of arithmetic, from the simple unit to
millions, billions, and trillions, neither heard nor answered
the observation of his friend, who, seeing his abstraction,
turned again to the Scot.

“T fancy now, Jockey, if a stranger were to offer you a
noble, you would chuck it back at his head?”

“ Not if I could do him honest service for it, sir,” said
the Scot; “Iam willing to do what I may to be useful,
though I come of an honourable house, and may be said
to be in a sort indifferently weel provided for.”

“ Ay!” said the interrogator, “and what house may
elaim the honour of your descent ?”
“ An ancient coat belongs to it, as the play says,” whis-
pered Vincent to his companion.

“ Come, Jockey, out with it,” continued Master George,
observing that the Scot, as usual with his countrymen,
when asked a blunt, straightforward question, took a little
time before answering it.

“JT am no more Jockey, sir, than you are John,” said
the stranger, as if offended at being addressed by a name,
which at that time was used, as Sawney now is, for a
general appellative of the Scottish nation. “My name ifTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 65

you must know it, is Richie Moniplies; and I come of the
old and honourable house of Castle Collop, weel kend at
the West-Port of Edinburgh.”

““ What is that you call the West-Port ?”

proceeded
the interrog ator.

“Why, an it like your honour,”

having recovered his senses sufficiently to observe the res
spectable exterior of Master George, threw more elvility
into his manner than at first, « the West-Port is a gate of
our city, as yonder brick arches at Whitehall form the
entrance of the King’s palace here, only that the West-
Port is of stonern work, and mair decorated wit h, archi-
tecture and the policy of bigging.’

“ Nouns, man, a Whitehall catew ays were planned by
the great Holbein,” answered Mas ter
pect your accident has jumbled your brains, my good
friend. I Suppose you wil tell me next, you have at
Edinburgh 1 as fine a navigable river as the Th: ames, with
all its shipping ? ”

said Richie, who now,

George ; “I sus-

“The Thames!” exclaimed Richie, in a tone
fable contempt—* God bless your honour’s judgment, we
have at Edinburgh the Water-of-Leith and the N:

“And the Pow-burn, and the
Gusedub, fause loon!” answered

of inef-
or-loch!”
Quarry-holes, and the
Master George, speak-
ine Scotch with a strong and natural emphasis ; “it is
such landloupers as you, that, with your falset and fair
fashions, bring reproach on our whole country.’

“ God forgie me, sir,” said Richie, much

v

ee at
finding the supposed Southron converted into a native

¢ z yy : : [2d eae
Scot, “I took your honour for an Enelisher! But I hope

prwny

there was nacthing wrang in standing up for ane’s ain
country’s rredit in a strange land, where all men ery her
‘lown.”

VOL. XXVITIWAVERLEY NOVELS.

 

66

 

 

“ Do you call it for your country’s credit, to show that
she has a lying, puffing rascal, for one of her children ?”
said Master George. “But come, man, never look grave
on it,—as you have found a countryman, so you have
found a friend, if you deserve one—and specially if you
answer me truly.”

“J see nae gude it wad do me to speak ought else but
truth,” said the worthy North Briton.

“ Well, then—to begin,” said Master George, “ TI sus-
pect you are a son of old Mungo Moniplies, the flesher, at
the West-Port?”

“Your honour is a witch, I think,” said Richie, grin-

Ke eI tee
er amcencerr fare

cea rareereg es are

Pte Se T

ning.
“ And how dared you, sir, to uphold him for a noble?”
“J dinna ken, sir,” said Richie, scratching his head;
| “T hear muckle of an Earl of Warwick in these southern
le parts,—Guy, I think his name was,—and he has great

reputation here for slaying dun cows, and boars, and such
like; and I am sure my father has killed more cows and
boars, not to mention bulls, calves, sheep, ewes, lambs, and
pigs, than the haill Baronage of England.”

“ Go to! you are a shrewd knave,” said Master George ;
: “charm your tongue, and take care of saucy answers.
Your father was an honest burgher, and the deacon of his
eraft: I am sorry to see his son in so poor a coat.”

i, “ Indifferent, sir,” said Richie Moniplies, looking down
on his garments—“ very indifferent: but it is the wonted

hvery of poor burghers’ sons in our country—one of

 

Luckie Want’s bestowing upon us—rest us patient! The
King’s leaving Scotland has taken all custom frae Edin-
burgh ; and there is hay made at the Cross, and a dainty
crop of fouats in the Grass-market. There is as much
grass grows where my father’s stall stood, as might have

veen a good bite for the beasts he was used to kill.”THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 67

“It is even too true,” said Master George; “and
while we make fortunes here, our old neighbours and
their families are starving at home. This should be
thought upon oftener—And how came you by that
broken head, Richie ?—tell me honestly.”

“Troth, sir, ’se no lee about the matter,” answered
Moniplies. “TI was coming along the street here, and ilk
ane was at me with their jests and roguery. So I thought
to mysell, ye are ower mony for me to mell with; but let
me catch ye in Barford’s Park, or at the fit of the Vennel,
I could gar some of ye sing another sang. Sae ae auld
hirpling deevil of a potter behoved Just to step in my way
and offer me a pig, as he said, just to put my Scotch oint-
ment in, and I gave him a push, as but natural, and the
tottering devil couped ower amang his ain pigs, and
damaged a score of them. And then the reird raise, and
hadna these twa gentlemen helped me out of it, murdere
I suld hae been, without remeid. And as it was, just
when they got haud of my arm to have me out of the
fray, I got the lick that donnerit me from a left-handed
lighterman.”

Master George looked to the apprentices as if to de-
mand the truth of this story.

“Jt is just as he says sir,” replied Jenkin; “only I
heard nothing about pigs.—The people said he had broke
some crockery, and that—I beg pardon, sir—nobody
could thrive within the kenning of a Scot.”

“Well, no matter what they said, you were an honest
fellow to help the weaker side—And you, sirrah,” con-
fmued Master George, addressing his countryman, “ will
call at my house to-morrow morning, agreeable to this
direction.”

I will wait upon your honour,” said the Scot, boringat
t NE
ie

68 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

very low; “that is, if my honourable master will permit

39

me.

“Thy master?” said George,-—“ Hast thou any other
master save Want, whose livery you say you wear?”

“'Troth, in one sense, if it please your honour, I serve
twa masters,” said Richie; “for both my master and me
are slaves to that same beldam, whom we thought to show
our heels to by coming off ae Scotland. So that you
see, sir, I hold in a sort of black ward tenure, as we call
it in our country, being the servant of a servant.”

“And what is your master’s name?” said George;
and observing that Richie hesitated, he added, “ Nay, do
not tell me, if it is a secret.”

“A secret that there is little use in keeping,

+3

said

Richie; “only ye ken that our northern stomachs are

ower proud to call in witnesses to our distress. No that
my master is in mair than present pinch, sir,’ he added,
looking towards the two English apprentices, “having a
large sum in the Royal Treasury—that is,” he continued,
“the King is owing him
at it, it’s like-—My
ch. 33

Master George testified surprise at the name.

in a whisper to Master George,

 

a lot of siller; but it’s ill gettin

-
12
master is the young Lord Glenvarlo

 

~ oe
one of the young Lord Glenvarloch’s followers, and in
such a condition ? ”

“Troth, and I am all the followers he has, for the
present that is; and blithe wad I be if he were muckle
better aff than I am, though I were to bide as J
am.”

“J have seen his father with four gentlemen and ten
lackeys at his heels,” said Master George, “rustling in
their laces and velvets. Well, this is a changeful world,
but there is a better beyond it—The good old house ofTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. ga

Glenvarloch, that stood by king and country five hundred
years |”

“ Your honour may say a thousand,” said the follower.

“JY will say what I know to be true, friend,” said the
citizen, “and not a word more.—You seem well recovered
now-—can you walk ?”

“ Bravely, sir,’ said Richie; “it was but a bit dover.
i was bred at the West-Port, and my cantle will stand a
elour wad bring a stot down.”

“ Where does your master lodge?”

“We pit up, an it like your honour,” replied the Scot,
“in a sma’ house at the fit of ane of the wynds that gang
down to the water-side, with a decent man, John Christie,
a shipchandler, as they ca’t. His father came from
Dundee. I wotna the name of the wynd, but it’s right
anent the mickle kirk yonder; and your honour will
mind, that we pass only by our. family-name of simple
Mr. Nigel Olifaunt, as keeping ourselves retired for the
present, though in Scotland we be called the Lord
Nigel.”

“It is wisely done of your master,” said the citizen.
“JT will find out your lodgings, though your direction be
none of the clearest.” So saying, and slipping a piece
of money at the same time into Richie Moniplies’s hand,
he bade him hasten home, and get into no more affrays.

“JT will take care of that now, sir,” said Richie, with a
look of importance, “having a charge about me. And
80, wussing ye a’ weel, with special thanks to these twa
young gentlemen ”——

“T am no gentleman,” said Jenkin, flinging his cap. on
his head; “I am a tight London ’prentice, and hope to be
a freeman one day. Frank may write himself gentleman

if he will,”WAVERLEY NOVELS.

 

70

“TI was a gentleman once,” said Tunstall, “and I hope
I have done nothing to lose the name of one.”

“ Weel, weel, as ye list,” said Richie Moniplies; “but
J am mickle beholden to ye baith—and I am not a hair
the less like to bear it in mind that I say but little about
it just now.—Gudenight to you, my kind countryman.”
So saying, he thrust out of the sleeve of his ragged
doublet a long bony hand and arm, on which the muscles
ose like whip-cord. Master George shook it heartily,
while Jenkin and Frank exchanged sly looks with each
other.

Richie Moniplies would next have addressed his thanks

the master of the shop, but seeing him, as he after-
wards said, “scribbling on his bit bookie, as if he were
demented,” he contented his politeness with “ giving him
a hat,” touching, that is, his bonnet, in token of salutation,
and so left the shop.

“Now, there goes Scotch Jockey, with all his bad and
good about him,” said Master George to Master David,
who suspended, though unwillingly, the calculations with
which he was engaged, and keeping his pen within an
inch of the tablets, gazed on his friend with great lack-
lustre eyes, which expressed any thing rather than intelli-
gence or interest in the discourse addressed to him.—
“That fellow,” proceeded Master George, without heed-
ing his friend’s state of abstraction, “shows, with great
liveliness of colouring, how our Scotch pride and poverty
make liars and braggarts of us; and yet the knave, whose
every third word to an Englishman is a boastful lie, will,
I warrant you, be a true and tender friend and follower
to his master, and has perhaps parted with his mantle to
him in the cold blast, although he himself walked in
uerpo, as the Don says

           

that courage andTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. “i

 

Gdelity—fur I will warrant that the knave is stout—
should have no better companion than this swaggering
braggadovio humour.—But you mark me not, friend
Davie.”

“JY do—I do, most hecdfully,” said Davie.—“ For as
the sun goeth round the dial plate in twenty-four hours,

 

add, for the moon, fifty minutes and a half”
“ You are in the seventh heavens, man,” said his com-
panion.
“I crave your pardon,” replied Davie-——“Let the

wheel A go round in twenty-four hours—I have it—and

 

the wheel B in twenty-four hours, fifty minutes and a
half, fifty-seven being to fifty-four, as fifty-nine to twenty-
four hours, fifty minutes and a half, or very nearly,—I
erave your forgiveness, Master George, and heartily wish
you good-even.”

“ Good-even!” said Master George; “why, youhave
not wished me good-day yet. Come, old friend, lay by
these tablets, or you will crack the inner machinery of
your skull, as our friend yonder has got the outer-case of
his damaged.—Good-night, quotha! I mean not to part

with you so easily. I came to get my four-hours’ nun-

« a

ehion from you, man, besides a tune on the lute from my
god-daughter, Mrs. Marget.”
“ Good faith! I was abstracted, Master George—but

ti F : ae ee a3
you know me. Whenever I get amongst the wheels,

 

2 2?

said Mr. Ramsay, “ why, ‘tis ”’——

“ Lucky that you deal in small ones,” said his friend ;
as. awakened from his reveries and calculations, Ramsay
Ed the way up a little back-stair to the first story, occu.
pied by his daughter, and his little household.

:

The apprentices resumed their places in the front shop,
; to Do eh lanicin, Said Pate
aud relieved Sam Porter; when Jenkin said to Tunst ull72 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

—“T)idst see, Frank, how the old goldsmith cottoned in
with his beggarly countryman? When would one of his
wealth have shaken hands so courteously with a poor
Englishman?—Well, I'll say that for the best of the
Scots, that they will go over head and ears to serve a
countryman, when they will not wet a nail of their finger
to save a Southron, as they call us, from drowning. And
yet Master George is but half-bred Scot neither in that
respect; for I have known him do many a kind thing to
the English too.”

“ But hark ye, Jenkin,” said Tunstall, “I think you are
but half-bred English yourself. How came you to strike
on the Scotsman’s side after all? ”

“Why, you did so, too,” answered Vincent.

“Ay, because I saw you begin; and, besides, it is
nv Cumberland fashion to fall fifty upon one,” replied
Tunstall.

“And no Christ-Church fashion neither,” said Jenkin.
“Fair play and Old England for ever !—_ Besides, to teil
you a secret, his voice had a twang in it—in the dialect
I mean—reminded me of a little tongue, which I think
Sweeter—sweeter than the last toll of Saint Dunstan’s
will sound, on the day that I am shot of my indentures—~
Ha !—you guess who I mean, Frank ? ”

“Not I, indeed,” answered Tunstall.—* Scotch Janet,
I suppose, the laundress.”

 

“ Off with Janet in her own bucking-basket !—no, no,
no!—You blind buzzard,—do you not know I mean
pretty Mrs. Marget ?”

“ Umph!” answered Tunstall, dryly.

A flash of anger, not unmingled with suspicion, shot
from Jenkin’s keen black eyes.

& i is see
Umph !—and_ what signifies umph? I am notTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 13

sion 3 at . 2 . ° e fs
the first ’prentice has married his master’s daughter, I
think ?”
66 3 Oy ie Y air ¢ ™ 1 . 79 : ry 7
They kept their own secret, I fancy,” said Tunstall
at least till they were out of their time.”
“T tell vou what it js. Frank” an:
I tell you what it is, Fi ank,” answered Jenkin, sharply,
‘<6 i > e ° ° oi
that may be the fashion of you gentlefolks, that are
taught from your biggin to carry two faces under the
same hood, but it shall never be mine.”

5

“There are the stairs, then,” said Tunstall, coolly ; “go
up and ask Mrs. Marget of our master just now, and see
what sort of a face he will wear under hs hood.”

“No, I wonnot,” answered Jenkin; “I am not such a
fool as that neither. But I will take my own time; and
all the Counts in Cumberland shall not cut my comb, and
this is that which you may depend upon.”

Francis made no reply; and they resumed their usual
attention to the business of the shop, and their usual
solicitations to the passengers.*

* GEORGE HERIOT.—This excellent person was but little known by
his actions, when alive, but we may well use, in this particular, the
striking phrase of Scripture, “ that being dead he yet speaketh.”? We
have already mentjoned, in the Introduction, the splendid charity of
which he was the founder; the few notices of his personal history are
slight and meagre.

George Heriot was born at Trabroun, in the parish of Gladsmuir;
he was the eldest son of a goldsmith in Edinburgh, descended from a
family of some consequence in East-Lothian. His father enjoyed the
confidence of his fellow-citizens, and was their representative in Par-
liament. He was, besides, one of the deputies sent by the inhabitants
pf the city to propitiate the King, when he had left Edinburgh abruptly,
after the riot of 17th December, 1596.

George Heriot, the son, pursued his father’s occupatio) of a gold-
smith, then peculiarly lucrative, and much connected with that uf a
money-broker. He enjoyed the favour and protection of James, and
of his consort, Anne of Denmark. He married, for his first wife, &
maiden of his own rank, named Chr stian Marjoribanks, daughter of a74 WAVERLEY NOVELS.
respectable burgess. This was in 1586. He was afterwards named
jeweller to the Queen, whose account to him for a space of ten years
amounted to nearly £40,000. George Heriot, having lost his wife, con-
uected himself with the distinguished house of Rosebery, by marrying
a daughter of James Primrose, Clerk to the Privy Council. Of this
lady he was deprived by her dying in child-birth in 1612, before
attaining her twenty-first year. After a life spent in honourable and
successful industry, George Heriot died in London, to which city he
had followed his royal master, on the 12th February, 1624, at the age
of sixty-one years. His picture, (copied by Scougal from a lost
original,) in which he is represented in the prime of life, is thus de-
scribed: “ His fair hair, which overshades the thoughtful brow and
calm calculating eye, with the cast of humour on the lower part of the
countenance, are all indicative of the genuine Scottish character, and
well distincuish a person fitted to move steadily and wisely through
the world, with a strength of resolution to ensure success, and a dis-
position to enjoy it.’—AMistorical and Descriptive Account of Herwt’s
Hospital, with a Memoir of the Founder, by Messrs. James and John
Johnstone. Edinburgh, 1827.

I may add, as every thing concerning George Heriot is interesting,
that his second wife, Alison Primrose, was interred in Saint Gregory’s
Church, from the register of which parish the Rev. Mr. Barham, Ree-
tor, has, in the kindest manner, sent me the following extract :—‘ Mrs.
Alison, the wife of Mr. George Heriot, gentleman, 20th April, 1612.”
Saint Gregory’s, before the Great Fire of London which consumed the
cathedral, formed oné of the .owers of old Saint Paul’s, and occupied
the space of ground now filled by Queen Anne’s statue. In the south
aisle of the choir Mrs. Heriot reposed under a handsome monument,
bearing the following inscription :—

* Sunctissime et charissime conjugi ALIsON& Heriot, Jacobi Prim-
ros, Regie Muijestatis in Sanctiori Concilio Regni Scotie Amanuensis,
file, femine omnibus tum animi tum corporis dotibus, ac pro cultu in-
structissime. mestissimus ipsius maritus GEoRGIUS HERIOT, ARMIGER,
Regis, Regine, Principum Henrici et Caroli Gemmuarius, bene merenti,
non sine lachrymis, hoc Monumentum pie posuit.

“ Obiit Mensis Aprilis die 16, anno salutis 1612, etatis 20. in ipso
flore jewente, et mihi, parentibus, et amicis tristissimum sui desiderium
reliquit.

Hic Alicia Primrosa
Jacet crudo obruta fato,

Intempestivas
Ut rosa pressa manus.
Nondum bi. denosTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL.

Annorum impleverat orbes,
Pulchra, pudica,

Pairis deliciums atque viri:
Quum gravida, heu! nunquam
Mater, decessit, et inde

Cura dolorq: patri,

Cura dolorg: viro.

Non sublata tamen,
Lantum translata recessit
Nune Rosa prima Pols

Que fuit antea soli.
The loss of a young, beautiful, and amiable partner, at a period so
nteresting, was the probable reason of her husband devoting his for-
fune to a charitable institution. The epitaph occurs in Strype’s

edition of Stowe’s Survey of London, Book iii, page 228.Sr
REPT

:
q

 

NOVELS.

 

WAVERLEY

CHAPTER IIL

Hobadil. —I pray you possess no gallant of your acquaintance with a knowl
Bdge of my lodging.
Mast:r Matthew.—Wh«, I, sir?—Lord, sir!
BEN JONSON.

THE hext morning found Nigel Olifaunt, the young
Lord of Glenvarloch, seated, sad and solitary, in his little
apartment, in the mansion of John Christie, the ship-
chandler ; which that honest tradesman, in gratitude
perhaps to the profession from which he derived his
chief support, appeared to have constructed as nearly as
possible upon the plan of a ship’s cabin.

It was situated near to Paul’s Wharf, at the end of one
of those intricate and narrow lanes, which, until that part
of the city was swept away by the great fire in 1666,
constituted an extraordinary labyrinth of small, dark,
damp, and unwholesome streets and alleys, in one corner
or other of which the plague was then as surely found
lurking, as in the obscure corners of Constantinople in
cur own time. But John Christie’s house looked out
upon the river, and had the advantage, therefore, of free
air, impregnated, however, with the odoriferous fumes of
the articles in which the ship-chandler dealt, with the
odor of pitch, and the natural scent of the ooze and
sludge left by the reflux of the tide.

Upon the whole, except that his dwelling did not float
with the flood-tide, and become stranded with the ebb, theTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 77

young lord was nearly as comfortably accommodated as
he was while on board the little trading brig from the
long town of Kirkaldy, in Fife, by which he had come
a passenger to London. He received, however, every
attention which could be paid him ae his honest landlord,
John Christie; for Richie Moniplies had not thought it nee-
essary to BS ve his master’s inbogitile so completely, but

aaa

: e honest ship-chandler could form a guess that his
Soivs Dae was superior to his appear: As for
Dame Nelly, his wife, a round, buxom, hee
dame, with black eyes, a tight well-laced bodice, a green
apron, and a red petticoat edged with a slight silver lace,
and judiciously shortened so as to show that a short heel,
and a ‘tight clean ankle, rested upon a well-burnished
shoe,—she, of course, felt interest in a young man, who,
besides being very handsome, good-humoured, and easily
satisfied with the accommodations her house afforded, was
evidently of a rank, as well as manners, highly superior
to the skippers (or Captains as they called themselves)
of merchant vessels, who were the usual tenants of the
apartments which she let to hire ; and at whose departure
she was sure to find her well-scrubbed floor soiled with
the relics of tobacco, (which, spite of King James’s Coun-
terblast, was then forcing itself into use,) and her best
curtains impregnated with the odour of Geneva and
strong waters, to Dame Nelly’s great indignation ; for, as
she truly said, the smell of the shop and warehouse was
bad enough without these additions.

But all Mr. Olifaunt’s habits were regular and cleanly.
and his address, though frank and simple, showed so much
wf the courtier and gentleman, as formed a strong contrast
with the loud halloo, coarse jests, and boisterous impa-
tience, of her maritime imates. Dame Nelly saw that(8 WAVERLEY ‘NOVELS.

her guest was melancholy also, notwithstanding his efforts
to seem contented and cheerful; and, in short, she took
that sort of interest in him, without being herself aware
of ifs extent, which an unscrupulous gallant might have
been tempted to improve to the prejudice of honest John,
who was at least a score of years older than his helpmate.
Olifaunt, however, had not only other matters to thirk of,
but would have regarded such an intrigue, had the idea
ever occurred to him, as an abominable and ungrateful
encroachment upon the laws of hospitality, his religion
having been by his late father formed upon the strict
principles of the national faith, and his morality upon
those of the nicest honour. He had not escaped the
predominant weakness of his country, an overweening
sense of the pride of birth, and a disposition to value the
worth and consequence of others according to the number
and the fame of their deceased ancestors ; but this pride
of family was well subdued, and in general almost entirely
concealed, by his good sense and general courtesy.

Such as we have described him, Nigel Olifaunt, or
rather the young Lord Glenvarloch, was, when our
narrative takes him up, under great perplexity respecting
the fate of his trusty and only follower, Richard Moni-
plies, who had been despatched by his young master,
early the preceding morning, as far as the court at West-
minster, but had not yet returned. His evening adven-
tures the reader is already acquainted with, and so far
knows more of Richie than did his master, who had not
heard of him for twenty-four hours. Dame Nelly Chris-
ie, in the meantime. regarded her cuest with some
anxiety, and a great desire to comfort him if possible,
She placed on the breakfast-table a noble

powdered beef, with its usual guards of turnip and carrot,

piece of eoldTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 7$

recommended her mustard as coming direct from her
cousin at ‘Yewksbury, and spiced the toast with her own
hands—ani with ker own hands also drew a jug of stout
and nappy ale, all of which were elements of the substan-
tial breakfast of the period.

When she saw that her guest’s anxiety prevented him
from doing justice to the good cheer which she set before
him, she commenced her career of verbal consolation
with the usual volubility of those women in her station,
who, conscious of good looks, good intentions, and good
lungs, entertain no fear either of wearying themselves or
of fatiguing their auditors.

“ Now, what the good year! -are we to send you down
to Scotland as thin as you came up ?—TI am sure it would
be contrary to the course of nature. There was my good-
man’s father, old Sandy Christie, I have heard he was an
atomy when he came up from the North, and I am sure
he died, Saint Barnaby was ten years, at twenty stone
weight. I was a bareheaded girl at the time, and lived
in the neighbourhood, though I had little thought of mar-
rying John then, who had a score of years the better of
me—but he is a thriving man and a kind husband—and
his father, as I was saying, died as fat as a churchwarden.

Well, sir, but I hope I have not offended you for my little
and I hope the ale is to your honour’s liking,—and

 

joke
the beef—and the mustard ?”

« All excellent—all too good,’ answered Olifaunt ;
you have every thing so clean and tidy, dame, that I
shall not know how to live when I go back to my own
country—if ever I go back there.”

This was added as it seemed involuntarily, and with a

BS
teep sigh.

+ ° ° Rea ° eo, 8
“J warrant your honour go back again, if you like it,80 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

paid the dame; “unless you think rather of taking a
pretty, well-dowered English lady, as some of your coun-
trytolk have done. I assure you some of the best of the
city have married Scotsmen. There was Lady Treble.
pluinb, Sir Thomas Trebleplumb the great Turkey mer-
chant’s widow, married Sir Awley Macauley, whom your
honour knows, doubtless; and pretty Mistress Doublefee,
old Sergeant Doublefee’s daughter, jumped out of window,
and was married at May-fair to a Scotsman with a hard
came; and old Pitchpost the timber-merchant’s daughters
did little better, for they married two Irishmen; and
when folks jeer me about having a Scotsman for lodger,
meaning your honour, I tell them they are afraid of their
daughters and _ their mistresses ; and sure I have a right
to stand up for the Scots, since John Christie is half a
Scotsman, and a thriving man, and a good husband,
though there is a score of years between us; and so I
would have your honour cast care away, and mend your
breakfast with a morsel and a draught.”

“At a word, my kind hostess, I cannot,” said Olifaunt;
“Tam anxious about this knave of mine, who has been
so long absent in this dangerous town of yours.”

It may be noticed in passing, that Dame Nelly’s ordi-
nary mode of consolation was to disprove the existence of
any cause for distress; and she is said to have carried
this so far as to comfort a neighbour who had lost her
husband, with the assurance that the dear defunct would
be better to-morrow, which perhaps might not have
proved an appropriate, even if it had been a possible,
mode of relief. On this occasion she denied stoutly that
Richie had been absent altogether twenty hours; and as
for people being killed in the streets of London, to be
sure two men had been found in Tower-ditch last week.THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 8]

but that was far to the east, and the other poor man that
had his throat cut in the fields, had met his mishap near
by Islington; and he that was stabbed by the young
Lemplar in a drunken frolic, by St. Clement’s in the
Strand, was an Irishman. All which evidence she pro-
duced to show that none of these casualties had occurred
m a case exactly parallel with that of Richie, a Scots:
man, and on his return from Westminster.

“My better comfort is, my good dame,” answered Oli-
faunt, “that the lad is no brawler or quarreller, unless
strongly urged, and that he has nothing valuable about
him to any one but me.”

“Your honour speaks very well,” retorted the inex-
haustible hostess, who protracted her task of taking away,
and putting to rights, in order that she might prolong her
gossip. “Tl uphold Master Moniplies to be neither
reveller nor brawler, for if he liked such things he might
be visiting and junketing with the young folks about here
in the neighourhood, and he never dreams of it; and
when I asked the young man to go as far as my gossip’s,
Dame Drinkwater, to taste a glass of aniseed, and a bit
of the groaning cheese,—for Dame Drinkwater has had
twins, as I told your honour, sir—and I meant it quite
civilly to the young man, but he chose to sit and keep
house with John Christie ; and I dare say there is a score
of years between them, for your honour’s servant looks
scarce much older than Iam. JI wonder what they could
have to say to each other. I asked John Christie, but he
bid me go to sleep.”

“Tf he comes not soon,” said his master, “I will thank
you to tell me what magistrate I can address myself to;
for besides my anxiety for the poor fellow’s safety, he has
papers of importance about him.”

6

VOL. XXVIU.B2 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

“Qh! your honour may be assured he will be back in a
quarter of an hour,” said Dame Nelly; “he is not the
‘ad to stay out twenty-four hours at a stretch. And for
the papers, [ am sure your honour will pardon him for
just giving me a peep at the corner, as I was giving him
uw small cup, not so large as my thimble, of distilled
waters, to fortify his stomach against the damps, and it
was directed to the King’s Most Excellent Majesty; and
so doubtless his Majesty has kept Richie out of civility to
consider of your honour’s letter, and send back a fitting
reply.”

Dame Nelly here hit by chance on a more available
topic of consolation than those she had hitherto touched
upon; for the youthful lord had himself some vague hopes
that his messenger might have been delayed at Court
until a fitting and favourable answer should be despatched
back to him. Inexperienced, however, in public affairs
as he certainly was, it required only a moment’s con-
sideration to convince him of the improbability of an
expectation so contrary to all he had heard of etiquette,
as well as the dilatory proceeding in a court suit, and he
answered the good-natured hostess with a sigh, that he
doubted whether the King would even look on the paper
addressed to him, far less take it into his immediate
consideration.

“Now, out upon you for a faint-hearted gentleman !”
said the good dame; “and why should he not do as much
for us as our gracious Queen Elizabeth ? Many people
bay this and that about a queen and a king, but I think a
king comes more natural to us English folks; and this
good gentleman goes as often down by water to Green-
wich, and employs as many of the bargemen and water-

c

men of all kinds; and maintains, in his royal grace, John
e c .THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 83

Taylor the water-poet, who keeps both a sculler and a
pair of oars. And he has made a comely Court at
Whitehall, just by the river, and since the King is so
good a friend to the Thames, I cannot see, if it please

4

your honveur, why all his subjects, and your honour in

specialty, should not have satisfaction by his hands.”
“ "True, dame—true,

 

let us hope for the best; but I
must take my cloak and rapier, and pray your husband
In courtesy to teach me the way to a magistrate.”

“Sure, sir,” said the prompt dame, “I can do that as
well as he, who has been a slow man of his tongue all his
life, though I will give him his due for being a loving
husband, and a man as well to pass in the world as any
betwixt us and the top of the lane. And so there is the
sitting alderman, that is always at the Guildhall, which is
close by Paul’s, and so I warrant you he puts all to rights
in the city that wisdom can mend; and for the rest there
is no help but patience. But I wish I were as sure of
forty pounds, as I am that the young man will come back
safe and sound.”

Olifaunt, in great and anxious doubt of what the good
dame so strongly averred, flung his cloak on one shoulder,
and was about to belt on his rapier, when first the voice
of Richie Moniplies on the stair, and then that faithful
emissarys appearance in the chamber, put the matter
beyond question. Dame Nelly, after congratulating Moni-
plies on his return, and paying several compliments to

her own sagacity for having foretold it, was at length

yt

; ; r Fei ee pn
pleased to leave the apartment. The truth was, that,

besides some instinctive feelings of good-breeding w hich
£
i

eoum, and she therefore retreated, trusting that her ownNe OR

 

   
 
 
 
    
 
 
 
 
 
  
   
 
   
   
   
  
  
   
  
 
     
  
   

84. WAVERLEY NOVELS.

address would get the secret out of one or other of the
young men, when she should have either by himself.

“ Now, in Heaven’s name, what is the matter?” said
Nigel Olifaunt.—* Where have you been, or what have
you been about? You look as pale as death. There is
blood on your hand, and your clothes are torn. What
barns-breaking have you been at? You have been drunk,
Richard, and fighting.”

“ Fighting I have been,” said Richard, “in a small
way; but for being drunk, that’s a job ill to manage in
this town, without money to come by liquor; and as for
barns-breaking, the deil a thing’s broken but my head.
It’s not made of iron, I wot, nor my claithes of chenzie
mail; so a club smashed the tane, and a claught damaged
the tither. Some misleard rascals abused my country,
but I think I cleared the causey of them. However, the
haill hive was ower mony for me at last, and I got this
eclipse on the crown, and then I was carried beyond my
kenning, to a sma’ booth at fhe Temple Port, where
they sell the whirlygigs and mony-go-rounds that measure
out time as a man wad measure a tartan web; and then
they bled me, wold I nold I, and were reasonably civil,
especially an auld countryman of ours, of whom more
hereafter.”

“ And at what o’clock might this be?” said Nigel.

“The twa iron carles yonder, at the kirk beside the
Port, were just banging out sax o’ the clock.”

“And why came you not home as soon as you re-
covered ?” said Nigel.

“In truth, my lord, every why has its wherefore, and
this has a eude ane,” answered his follower. “To come
hame, I behoved to ken whare hame was; now, I had
clean tint the name of the wynd, and the mair I askedTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 85

the mair the folk leugh, and the farther they sent me
wrang; sae I gave it up till God should send daylight to
help me; and as I saw mysell near a kirk at the lang
run, I e’en crap in to take up my night’s quarters in the
kirkyard.”

“In the churchyard!” said Nigel—“ But I need not
ask what drove you to such a pinch.”

“ Tt wasna sae much the want o’ siller, my Lord Nigel,”

pen

said Richie, with an air of mysterious importance, “ for
was no sae absolute without means, of whilk mair anon;
but I thought I wad never ware a saxpence sterling on
ane of their saucy chamberlains at a hostelry, sae lang as
I could sleep fresh and fine in a fair, dry, spring night.
Mony a time when I hae come hame ower late, and faund
the West-Port steekit, and the waiter ill-willy, I have
gar’d the Sexton of Saint Cuthbert’s calf-ward serve me
for my quarters. But then there are dainty green graffs
in Saint Cuthbert’s kirkyard, where ane may sleep as if
they were in a down-bed, till they hear the lavrock sing-
ing up in the air as high as the Castle; whereas, and
behold, these London kirkyards are causeyed with
through-stanes, panged hard and i rast thegither; and my
cloak being something threadbare, made but a thin
mattress, so I was fain to give up my oe before every
limb about me was crippled. Dead folks may sleep
yonder sound enow, but deil haet ee

“ And what became of you next?” said his master.

“JT just took to a canny bulk-head, as they ca’ them
here; that is, the boards on the tap of their bits of out-
shots of stalls and booths, and there I sleepit as suund as
‘fT was ina castle. Not but I was disturbed with some
of the night-walking queans and swaggering billies, but
when they found there was nothing to be got by ime but86

 

WAVERLEY NOVELS.

     

slash of my Andrew Ferrara, they bid me goodnight for
and I was e’en weel pleased to be sae

a beggarly Scot ;
cheap rid of ae
here, but sad wat

And in the morning, I cam daikering

< I had to find the way, for I had been
east as far as = place they ca’ Mile-End, though it is

mair like sax-mile-end.”

“ Well, Richie,”
has ended so well—go get something to eat.

you need it.”

answered Nigel,

“T am glad all this

I am sure

“In troth do I, sir,” replied Moniplies; “but, with

your lordship’s

leave ”>———

“ Forget the lordship for the present, Richie, as I have
often told you before.”
“Faith,” replied Richie, “ I could weel forget that your

honour was a lord, but then I behoved to forget that I am

a lord’s sae and that’s not so easy.

added, assisti
two cee

fashion of a bird’s

of his right hand,
claw,

But however,”

thrust out after

he

1g his description with the thumb and the

the

while the little finger and

ring-finger were closed upon the palm, “to the Court I

went, and my friend that promised me a sight of his

Majesty’s most gracious presence, was as gude as his
word, and carried me into the back offices, where I got

the best breakfast I have

did me eude for tl

quieting thought that it maun be a uid for.

was but beef banes and fat bro

honour kens, is better tha
it was a’ in free awmous.—But I see,”

but king’s
n ae tolk’

had since we came here, and it
the rest of the day ;

for as to what I have
eaten in this accursed { town, it is aye sauced with the dis-

A
xATLET

Ss Corn:

short, “that your honour waxes impatient.”

é6 By no means, Richie,”

a’ there
cauff, your
at ony rate,
he mes stopping

said the young nobleman, with
wn air of resignation, for he well knew his domesticTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 87

 

would not mend his pace for goading; “you have suf:
fered enough in the embassy to have a richt to tell the
story in your own way. Only let me pray for the name
of the friend who was to introduce you into the Kino’s
presence. . You were very mysterious on the subject,
when you undertook, through his means, to have the
Supplication put into his Majesty’s own hands, since
those sent heretofore, I have every reason to think, went
no farther than his secretary’s.

“Weel, my lord,” said Richie, “I did not tell you his
name and quality at first, because I thought you would
be affronted at the like of him having to do in your lord-
ship’s affairs. But mony a man climbs up in Court by
waur help. It was just Laurie Linklater, one of the
yeomen of the kitchen, that was my father’s apprentice

lane syne.”

 

“A yeoman of the kitchen—a scullion!” exclaimed
Lord Nigel, pacing the room in displeasure.

‘But consider, sir,’ said Richie, composedly, “that a’
your great friends hung back, and shunned to own you,
or to advocate your petition; and then, though I am sure
I wish Laurie a higher office, for your lordship’s sake
and for mine, and especially for his ain sake, being a
friendly lad, yet your lordship must consider, that a scul-
lion—if a yeoman of the King’s most royal kitchen may
be called a scullion—may weel rank with a master-cook
elsewhere; being that king’s cauff, as I said before, is
better than”

“You are right and I was wrong,” said the young
gubleman. “JI have no choice of means of making my
eave known, so that they be honest.”

“Laurie is as honest a lad as ever lifted a ladle,” said
Richie; “not but what I dare to say he can liek his88 WAVERLEY NOVELS

fingers like other folk, and reason good. But, in fine, for
I see your honour is waxing impatient, he brought me te
the palace, where a’ was astir for the King going out to
hunt or hawk on Blackheath, I think they ea’d it. And
there was a horse stood with all the quarries about it, a
bonny gray as ever was foaled; and the saddle and the
stirrups, and the curb and bit, o’ burning gowd, or silver
gilded at least; and down, sir, came the King, with all
his nobles, dressed out in his hunting-suit of green, doubly
laced, and laid down with gowd. I minded the very face
o him, though it was lang since I saw him. But my
certie, lad, thought J, times are changed since ye came
fleemg down the back-stairs of auld Holyrood-House, in
grit fear, having your breeks in your hand without time
to put them on, and Frank Stewart, the wild Earl of
Bothwell, Lard at your haunches; and if auld Lord
Glenvarloch hadna cast his mantle about his arm, and
taken bluidy wounds mair than ane in your behalf, you
wald not have craw’d sae crouse this day; and so saying,
I could not but think your lordship’s Sifflication could not
be less than most acceptable; and so I banged in among
the crowd of lords. Laurie thought me mad, and held
me by the cloak-lap till the cloth rave in his hand; and
so I banged in right before the King just as he mounted,
and crammed the Sifflication into his hand, and he opened
it like in amaze; and just as he saw the first line, I was
minded to make a reverence, and I had the ill luck to hit
his jaud o’ a beast on the nose with my hat, and scaur
the creature, and she swarved aside, and the King, tha
sits na mickle better than a draff pock on the saddle, was
like to have gotten a clean coup, and that might have
cost my craig a raxing—and he flung down the paper
kmong the beast’s feet, and cried, ‘Away wi’ the fauseTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 83

looa that brought it!’ And they grippit me, and cried
Treason; and I thought of the Ruthvens that were dirked
in their ain house, for, it may be, as small a forfeit,
However, they spak only of scourging me, and had me

way to the porter’s lodge to try the tawse on my back,
eh: I was crying mercy as loud as I could; and the
King, when he had righted Recat on the adie and
gathered his breath, cried to do me nae harm; for, said
he, he is ane of our ain Norland stots, I ken by the rowt
of him,

 

and they a’ laughed and rowted loud eneu uch.

And then he said, Gie him a copy of th e proclamation,
and let him go down to the North by the next light
collier, before waur come o’t. So they let me go, and
rode a’ sniggering, laughing, and rounding in ilk ither’s
lugs. A sair life I had wi Laurie Linklater; for he said
it would be the ruin of him. And then, hen I told him
it was in your matter, he said if he had known before he
would have risked a scauding for you, because he minded
the brave old Lord, your father. And then he showed

 

how I suld have done,—and that I suld have held up my
hand to my brow, as if the grandeur of the King and his
horse-graith thegither had casten the glaiks in my een,
and mair eee tricks I suld hae played, instead of

offering the Sifflication, he said, as if I had been bring-

ing guts toa hear.* ‘Tor,’ said he, ‘ Richie, the King is
* Jam certain this prudential advice is not original on Mr. Link-

later’s part, but I am not at present able to produce any & hones I

. * } : x ARE R 4
think it amounted to this, that James flung down a petition presented
and ex-

by some supplicant who paid no erent , to his horse,
“6 Shall

pressed no admiration at the splendour of his Finite, saying,
u king cumber himself about the petition of a beggar, while the beggar
lisreoards the king’s splendour! ’’ It is, I think, Sir John Harrington
who recommends, as a sure mode to the king’s favour, to praise the

yaces of the royal palfrey.WAVERLEY NOVELS.

 

30

a weel-natured and just man of his ain kindly nature, but
he has a whin maggots that maun be cannily guided
and then, Richie,’ says he, in a very laigh tone, ‘I would
tell it to nane but a wise man like yoursell, but the King
has them about him wad corrupt an angel from heaven;
but I could have gi’en you avisement how to have guided
him, but now it’s like after meat mustard.’ —‘A weel,
aweel, Laurie, said I, ‘it may be as you say; but since
I am clear of the tawse and the porter’s lodge, sifflicate
wha like, deil hae Richie Moniplies if he come sifilicating
here again.—And so away I came, and I wasna far by
the Temple Port, or Bar, or whatever they ca’ it, when
I met with the misadventure that I tauld you of before.”
“Well, my honest Richie,” said Lord Nigel, “ your
attempt was well meant, and not so ill conducted, I think,
as to have deserved so bad an issue; but go to your beef
and mustard, and we’ll talk of the rest afterwards.”
“There is nae mair to be spoken, sir,” said his fol-
lower, “except that I met ane very honest, fair-spoken,
weel-put-on gentleman, or rather burgher, as J think,
that was in the whigmaleery man’s backshop; and when
he learned wha I was, behold he was a kindly Scot him-
sell, and, what is more, a town’s-bairn o’ the gude town,
and he behoved to compel me to take this Portugal piece,
to drink, forsooth—My certie, thought I, we ken better,

 

for we will eat it—and he spoke of paying your lordship
a visit.”

“You did not tell him where I lived, you knave?”
said the Lord Nigel, angrily. “’Sdeath! I shall have

every clownish burgher from Edinburgh come to gaze on
a

Bee eee a gp EA a Sane -
my distress, and pay a shilling for having seen the Mo
tion * of the Poor Noble.”

* Motion—Puppet-show.THE FORTONES OF NIGEL. 91

“Tell him where you lived?” said Richie, evading the
question , “ How could I tell him what I kendna mysell ?
If I had minded the name of the wynd, I need not have
giept in the kirkyard yestreen.”

“See, then, that you give no one notice of our lodging,”
said the young nobleman; “those with whom I have
business I can meet at Paul’s, or in the Court of Re-
quests. ”

. “This is steeking the stable-door when the steed is
stolen,” thought Richie to himself; “but I must put him
bn another pin.”

So thinking, he asked the young lord what was in the
Proclamation which he still held folded in his hand;
“for, having little time to spell at it,” said he, “ your
lordship well knows I ken nought about it but the grand
blazon at the tap—the lion has gotten a claught of our
auld Scottish shield now, but it was as weel upheld when
it had a unicorn on ilk side of it.”

Lord Nigel read the Proclamation, and he coloured
deep with shame and indignation as he read; for the
purport was, to his injured feelings, like the pouring of
ardent spirits upon a recent wound.

“What deil’s in the paper, my lord?” said Richie,
unable to suppress his curiosity as he observed his master
ehange colour; “I wadna ask such a thing, only the
Proclamation is not a private thing, but is meant for a’
men’s hearing.”

“Tt is indeed meant for all men’s hearing,’ replied
Lord Nigel, “and it proclaims the shame of our country,
and the ingratitude of our Prince.”

“ Now the Lord preserve us! and to publish it in Lon
don too!” ejaculated Moniplhies.

“Hark ye, Richard,” said Nigel Olifaunt, “in this92 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

paper the Lords of the Council set forth, that ‘in cons
sideration of the resort of idle persons of low condition
forth from his Majesty’s kingdom of Scotland to his Eng-
lish Court—filling the same with their suits and supplica-
tions, and dishonouring the royal presence with their
base, poor, and beggarly persons, to the disgrace of their
country in the estimation of the English; these are to
prohibit the skippers, masters of vessels, and others, in
every part of Scotland, from bringing such miserable
creatures up to Court, under pain of fine and imprison-

999

ment.

“TI marle the skipper took us on board,” said Richie.

“Then you need not marvel how you are to get back
again,” said Lord Nigel, “for here is a clause which
says, that such idle suitors are to be transported back to
Scotland at his Majesty’s expense, and punished for their
audacity with stripes, stocking, or incarceration, according
to their demerits—that is to say, I suppose, according to
the degree of their poverty, for I see no other demerit
epecified.”

“This will scarcely,” said Richie, “square with our

old proverb—
‘A King’s face
Should give grace—,

But what says the paper farther, my lord ?”

“Oh, only a small clause which especially concerns us,
making some still heavier denunciations against those suit-
ors who shall be so bold as to approach the Court, under
pretext of seeking payment of old debts due to them by
the King, which, the paper states, is, of all species of im-
yortunity, that which is most odious to his Majesty.” *

* The English agreed in nothing more unanimously than in censur-
ing James on account of the beggarly rabble which not only attendedTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 93

“The King has neighbours in that matter,” said Richie ;
“but it is not every one that can shift off that sort of cat-
tle so easily as he does.”

Their conversation was here interrupted by a knocking
av the door Olifaunt looked out at the window, and saw
an elderly respectable person whom he knew not. Richie
also peeped, and recognised, but, recognising, chose not
to acknowledge, his friend of the preceding evening.
Afraid that his share in the visit might be detected, he
made his escape out of the apartment under pretext of
going to his breakfast; and left their landlady the task of
ushering Master George into Lord Nigel’s apartment,
which she performed with much courtesy.

the King at his coming first out of Scotland, “ but,” says Osborne,
“ which, through his whole reign, like a fluent spring, were found still
crossing the Tweed.” Yet it is certain, from the number of procla-
mations published by the Privy Council in Scotland, and bearing
marks of the King’s own diction, that he was sensible of the whole
inconveniences and unpopularity attending the importunate crowd of
disrespectable suitors, and as desirous to get rid of them as his South-
ern subjects could be. But it was in vain that his Majesty argued
with his Scottish subjects on the disrespect they were bringing on
their native country and sovereign, by causing the English to suppose
uhere were no well nurtured or independent gentry in Scotland, they
who presented themselves being, in the opinion and conceit of all be-
holders, * but idle rascals, and poor miserable bodies.” It was even in
vain that the vessels which brought up this unwelcome cargo of peti-
tioners were threatened with fine and confiscation; the undaunted
suitors continued to press forward, and, as one of the proclamaticns
says, many of them under pretence of requiring payment of “ auld
debts due to them by the King,” which, it is observed with great na-
fvelé, “is, of all kinds of importunity, most unpleasing to his Majesty.”

The 2xpressions in the text are selected from these curious proclama

ions.WAVERLEY NOVELS.

 
  
 
 
  
 
   
  
  
 
  
  
    
   
   
     

CHAPTER IV.

Ay, sir, the clouted shoe hath ofttimes craft in’t,

As says ths rustic proverb; and your citizen,

In’s grogram suit, gold chain, and well black’d shoes,
Bears under his flat cap ofttimes a brain

Wiser than burns beneath the cap and feather,

Or seethes within the statesman’s velvet nightcap.

 

READ ME MY RIDDIR.

Tue young Scottish nobleman received the citizen with
distant politeness, expressing that sort of reserve by which
those of the higher ranks are sometimes willing to make
a plebeian sensible that he is an intruder. But Master
George seemed neither displeased nor disconcerted. He

 

i. assumed the chair, which, in deference to his respectable
appearance, Lord Nigel offered to him, and said, after a
moment’s pause, during which he had looked attentively
at the young man, with respect not unmingled with emo-
tion—“ You will forgive me for this rudeness, my lord ;

ae 4

es a

but I was endeavouring to trace in your youthful counte-
i hance the features of my good old lord, your excellent
tf father.”

“There was a moment’s pause ere young Glenvarloch
replied, still with a reserved manner,—“ I have been
reckoned like my father, sir,—and am happy to see any
one that respects his memory. But the business which
calls me to this city is of a hasty as well as a private ng,

PUL. ReTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 95

*T undeistand the hint, my lord,” said Master George,
“and would not be guilty of lorie detaining you from
business, or more agreeable conversation. My errand is
almost done when I have said that my name is George
Heriot, warmly befriended, and introduced into the em-
ployment of the Royal Family of Scotland, more thay
twenty years since, by your excellent father; and that,
learning from a follower of yours that your lordship was
in this city in prosecution of some business of importance,
it is my duty, it is my pleasure—to wait on the son of my
respected patron; and, as I am somewhat known both at
the court and in the city, to offer him such aid in the fur-
thering of his affairs, as my credit and experience may
be able to afford.”

“1 have no doubt of either, Master Heriot,” said Lord
Nigel, “and I thank you heartily for the goodwill with
which you have placed them at a stranger’s disposal ; but
my business at court is done and ended, and I intend to
leave London, and, indeed, the island, for foreign travel
and military service. I may add, that the suddenness of
my departure occasions my having little time at my dis-
posal.”

Master Heriot did not take the hint, but sat fast, with
an embarassed countenance, however, like one who had
something to say that he knew not exactly how to make
effectual. At length he said with a dubious smile, “ You
are fortunate, my lord, in having so soon despatched your
business at court. Your talking landlady informs me you
have been but a fortnight in this city. It is usually
months and years ere the Court and a suitor shake hands
nnd part.”

“ My business,” said Lord Nigel, with a brevity which
was intended to stop farther diceudsion. “was summarily

despatched.”ral

 

 

 

 

  

96 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

Still Master Heriot remained seated, and there was a
cordial good-humour added to the reverence of his appear-
ance, which rendered it impossible for Lord Nigel to be
more explicit in requesting his absence.

“Your lordship has not yet had time,” said the citizen,
still attempting to sustain the conversation, “to visit the
places of amusement,—the playhouses, and other places to
which youth resort. But I see in your lordship’s hand
one of the new-invented plots of the piece* which they
hand about of late—May I ask what play?”

“Oh! a well-known piece,” said Lord Nigel, impatiently
throwing down the Proclamation, which he had hitherto

 

been twisting to and fro in his hand,—“ an excellent and
well-approved piece—A New Way to Pay Old Debts.”

Master Heriot stooped down, saying, “ Ah! my old ac-
quaintance, Philip Massinger ;” but, having opened the
paper and seen the purport, he looked at Lord Nigel Oli-
faunt with surprise, saying, “I trust your lordship does
not think this prohibition can extend either to your per-
son or your claims ?”

“J should scarce have thought so myself,” said the
young nobleman ; “but so it proves. His Majesty, toe
close this discourse at once, has been pleased to send me
this Proclamation in answer to a respectful Supplication
for the repayment of large loans advanced by my father
for the service of the state, in the King’s utmost emer-
gencies.”

“Tt is impossible,” said the citizen—“it is absolutcly
impossible !—If the King could forget what was due to
your father’s memory, still he would not have wished—
would not, I may say, have dared

 

to be so flagrantly un-
just to the memory of such a man as your father, who,

* Meaning, probably, playbills.dead in the body, will long live in the memory of the

Scottish people.”

eq i : Oe ° °
I should have been of your opinion,” answered Lord
Nigel, in the same tone as

ing with facts.”

“What was the tenor
Heriot ; “or by whom was it presented ? Something
Strange there must have been in the contents, or’?——.

“You may see my original draught,” said the young
lord, taking it out of a small travelling strone-box; “the
technical part is by my lawyer in Scotland, a skilful and
sensible man; the rest is my own, drawn, I hope, with due
deference and modesty.”

Master Heriot hastily cast his eye over the draught.
4 Nothing,” he said, “ can be more well tempered and re-
spectiul. Is it possible the King can have treated this
petition with contempt?”

“He threw it down on the pavement,” said the Lord
of Glenvarloch, “:
tion, in which he classes me with the paupers and mendi-
cants from Scotland, who disgrace his court in the eyes of
the proud English,—that is all. Had not my father stood
by him with heart, sword, and fortune, he might never
have seen the Court of England himself.”

“But by whom was this supplication presented, my
lord ?” said Heriot; “for the distaste taken at the mes-
senger will sometimes extend itself to the message.”

“ By my servant,” said the Lord Nigel; “ by the man
you saw, and, I think, were kind to.”

“By your servant, 1
seems a shrewd fellow, and doubtless a faithful; but

 

surely ”

VOL. XXVII.

THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 97

and sent me for answer that proclama-

lord?” said the citizen; “he

“You would say,” said Lord Nigel, “he is no fit mes-
Sy

      
  
 
   
  
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
   
   
   
 
 
 
 
  
 
  
 
 

é

before; “but there is no fight-

of this Supplication?” said

  

4WAVERLEY NOVELS.

 

98

senger to a King’s presence ?—Surely he is not; but
what could Ido? Every attempt I had made to lay my
case before the King had miscarried, and my petitions
got no farther than the budgets of clerks and secretaries ; ,
this fellow pretended he had a friend in the household
that would bring him to the King’s presence,—and
so”

“J understand,” said Heriot ; “but, my lord, why should
you not, in right of your rank and birth, have appeared

 

at court, and required an audience, which could not have
been denied to you?”

The young lord blushed a little, and looked at his dress,
which was very plain; and though in perfect good order
had the appearance of having seen service.

“ T know not why I should be ashamed of speaking the
truth,” he said, after a momentary hesitation,—“ I had no

 

Ae ‘ ; : ;
i. dress suitable for appearing at court. I am determined
i to incur no expenses which I cannot discharge; and J
Hie think you, sir, would not advise me to stand at the palace-

door, in person, and deliver my petition, along with those
who are in very deed pleading their necessity, and
begging an alms.”

“That had been, indeed, unseemly,” said the citizen ;

Fae RRR TTS sromereyn

“but yet, my lord, my mind runs strangely that there must
be some mistake-—Can I speak with your domestic ?”
“T see little good it can do,” answered the young lord,
“but the interest you take in my misfortunes seems sin-
eere, and therefore” ———He stamped on the floor, and in
a tew seconds afterwards Moniplies appeared, wiping from
his beard and mustaches the crumbs of bread, and the
froth of the ale-pot, which plainly showed how he had
been employed.—“ Will your lordship grant permission,”
said Heriot, “that I ask your groom a few questions ? ”THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 95

“ His lovdship’s page, Master George,” answered Moni
plies, with a nod of acknowledgment, “if you are minded
to speak according to the letter.”

“ Hold your saucy tongue,” said his master, “and reply
distinctly to the questions you are to be asked.”

“And truly, if it like your pageship,” said the citi-
zen, “for you may remember I have a gift to discover
falset.”

“Weel, weel, weel,” replied the domestic, somewhat
embarrassed, in spite of his effrontery—* though I think
that the sort of truth that serves my master, may weel
serve ony ane else.”

“Pages lie to their masters by right of custom,” said
the citizen ; “and you write yourself in that band, though
U think you be among the oldest of such springalds; but
to me you must speak truth, if you would not have it end
in the whipping-post.”

“And that’s e’en a bad resting-place,” said the well-
grown page; “so come away with your questions, Master
George.”

“Well, then,” demanded the citizen, “I am given to
understand that you yesterday presented to his Majesty’s
hand a supplication, or petition, from this honourable lord
your master.”

“ Troth, there’s nae gainsaying that, sir,” replied Moni-
plies; “there were enow to see it besides me.”

“ And you pretend that his Majesty flung it from him
with contempt?” said the citizen. “Take heed, for I
have means of knowing the truth; and you were better
up to the neck in the Nor-Loch, which you like so
wall, than tell a leasing where his Majesty's name is
roncerned.”

“There is nae occasion for leasing-making about theE
; *
wi

 

100 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

matter,” answered Moniplies firmly; “his Majesty e’en
flung it frae him as if it had dirtied his fingers.”
“ You hear, sir,” said Olifaunt, addressing Heriot.
“Hush!” said the sagacious citizen ; “this fellow is not
ill-named

 

he has more plies than one in his cloak.—
Stay, fellow,” for Moniplies muttering somewhat about
finishing his breakfast, was beginning to shamble towards
the door, “ answer me this farther question—When you
gave your master’s petition to his Majesty, gave you
nothing with it ?”

“Ou, what should J
George?”

give wi’ it, ye ken, Master

“That is what I desire and insist to know,” replied his
interrogator.

“ Weel, then—I am not free to say, that maybe I might
not just slip into the King’s hand a wee bit sifflication of
mine ain, along with my Lord’s, just to save his Majesty
trouble—and that he might consider them baith at ance.”

“A supplication of your own, you varlet!” said his
master.

“Ou dear, ay, my lord,” said Richie— puir bodies hae
their bits of sifflications as weel as their betters.”

“And pray, what might your worshipful petition im-
port?” said Master Heriot.—“ Nay, for Heaven’s sake,
my lord, keep your patience, or we shall never learn the
truth of this strange matter. Speak out, sirrah, and [
will stand your friend with my lord.”

“Tt’s a lang story to tell—but the upshot is, that it?s a
scrape of an auld accompt due to my father’s yestate by
her Majesty the King’s maist gracious mother, when she
lived in the Castle, and had sundry providings and fur-
nishings forth of our booth, whilk nae doubt was an

honour to my father to supply, and whilk, donbtless, itTHE FORTUNES

will be a vredit to his Majesty to satisfy, as it will be orit

 

convenience to me to receive the saam.”

 

3 xv} ; a = 2 » 8 E ° - . . 5) 99 . e
“ What str ing ot impertinence is this? ” said his master.

 

“Every word'as true as e’er John Knox snoke.” aa;
} rd as true as e’er John Knox spoke,” said

 

Richie ; “ here’s the bit douk

ot the sifflication.”

  

Master George took a crumpled paper from the fellow’s

 

oo See st a ee ee ;
hand, and said, muttering betwixt his teeth—*‘ Humbly

 

showeth—um

    

um—his maist gracious mother

—um—um—justly addebted and owing the sum of fifteen

 

merks—the compt whereof followeth——Twelve nowte’s

 

feet for jillies—ane lamb, being Christmas—ane roasted

 

capin in grease for the privy chalmer, when my Lord o

 

Bothwell suppit with her Grace.—I think, my lord, you

 

can hardly be surprised that the King gave this petition

 

a brisk reception; and I conclude, Master Page, that you

 

took care to present your own supplication before your

master’s ?”

 
 

«Eroth-did I not,”
have given my lord’s first, as was reason gude; and be-

answered Moniplies, “I thought to

  
 

sides that, it wad have redd the gate for my ain little bill.
But what wi’ the dirdum an’ confusion, an’ the loupin here
and there of the skeigh brute of a horse, I believe I

 
 
 

crammed them baith into his hand cheek by jowl, and

 

maybe my ain was bunemost; and say there was aught
o~ a

i

  

 

wrang, I am sure I had a’ the fright and a’ the risk

  

“And shall have all the beating, you rascal knave,

said Nigel; “am

 
   

. f Oa Ate ee ee
to be insulted and dishonoured by

your pragmatical insolence, in blending

germs with mine?”

 
 

“Nay, nay, nay, my lord,” said the good-humot

 

titizen, interposing, “I have been the means of bringing
the fellow’s blunder to light—allow me interest enough
with your lordship to be bail for his bores. You havealt
a
(le

neta Ti

Se ae
ae

 

 

102 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

cause to be angry, but still I think the knave mistook
more out of conceit than of purpose; and I judge you
will have the better service of him another time, if you
overlook this fault—Get you gone, sirrak—Ill make
your peace.”

“Na, na,” said Moniplies, keeping his grcund firmly,
“it he likes to strike a lad that has followed him for pure
love, for I think there has been little servant’s fee between
us, a the way frae Scotland, just let my lord be doing,
and see the credit he will get by it—and I would rather
(mony thanks to you though, Master George) stand by a
lick of his baton, than it suid e’er be said a stranger came
between us.”

-“ Go, then,

99

said his master, “and get out of my sight.”

“Aweel I wot that is sune done,” said Moniplies, re-
tiring slowly; “I did not come without I had been ca’d
for—and I wad have been away half an hour since with
my gude will, only Maister George keepit me to answer
his interrogation, forsooth, and that has made a’ this stir.”

And so he made his grumbling exit, with the tone
much rather of one who has sustained an injury, than
who has done wrong.

“There never was a man so plagued as I am with a
malapert knave!—The fellow is shrewd, and I have
found him faithful

 

I believe he loves me, too, and he
has given proofs of it—but then he is so uplifted in his
own conceit, so self-willed, and so self-opinioned, that he
seems to become the master, and I the man; and what-
ever blunder he commits, he is sure to make as loud
complaints, as if the whole error lay with me, and in ne
degree with himself.”

“Cherish him, and maintain him, nevertheless.” said
the citizen; “for believe my gray hairs, that affectionTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 103

and fidelity are now rarer qualities in a servitor, than
whe. the world was younger. Yet, trust him, my 200d
lord, with no commission above his birth or breeding, for
you see yourself how it may chance to fall.”

“It is but too evident, Master Heriot,” said the young
nobleman; “and I am sorry 1 have done injustice to my
sovereign, and your master. But I am like a true Scots-

1
¢

man, wise behind hand—the mistake has happened

 

my
Supplication has been refused, and my only resource is to
employ the rest of my means to carry Moniplies and my-
self to sume counterscarp, and die in the battle-front like
my ancestors.”

“It were better to live and serve your country like
your noble father, my lord,” replied Master George.
“Nay, nay, never look down or shake your head—the
King has not refused your Supplication, for he has not
seen it—you ask but justice, and that his place obliges
him to give to his subjects—ay, my lord, and I will say
that his natural temper doth in this hold bias with his
duty.”

“T were well pleased to think so, and yet”—— said
Nigel Olifaunt,—* I speak not of my own wrongs, but my
country hath many that are unredressed.”

“ My lord,” said Master Heriot, “I speak of my royal
master, not only with the respect due from a subject—the
gratitude to be paid by a favoured servant, but also with
the frankness of a free and loyal Scotsman. The King
is himself well disposed to hold the scales of justice even;
but there are those around him who can throw without
detection their own selfish wishes and base interests inte
the scale. You are already a su fferer by this, and with. :
out your knowing it.”

“T am surprised, Master Heriot,” said the young lord,‘

 

  

104 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

“to hear you, upon so short an acquaintance, talk as if
you were familiarly acquainted with my affairs.”

“My lord,” replied the goldsmith, “the nature of my
employment affords me direct access to the interior of the
palace; I am well known to be no meddler in intrigues
or party affairs, so that no favourite has as yet endeay-
oured to shut against me the door of the royal closet; on
the contrary, I have stood well with each while he was
in power, and I have not shared the fali of any. But I
eannot be thus connected with the Court, without hearing,
even against my will, what wheels are in motion, and
how they are checked or forwarded. Of course, when J
choose to seek such intelligence, I know the sources in
which it is to be traced. I have told you why I was in-
terested in your lordship’s fortunes,
only that I knew you were in #]
able, in coming hither this

It was last night
us city, yet I have been
morning, to gain for you

some information respecting the impediments to your

suit.”

“or, T-am obliged by your zeal]
be merited,” answered Nigel,
* yet I hardly know how J] have deserved this interest.”

“First let me satisfy you that it is real,” said the
eltizen; “I blame you not for being unwilling to eredit
the fair professions of Stranger in my inferior class of
le friendship from rela-
ank, bound to have assisted
you by so many ties. But mark the
mortgage over your father’s extensive estate, to the
amount of 40,000 merks, due ostensibly
Peterson, the Conservator of Sc

Campvere.”

» however little it may
still with some reserve ;

society, when you have met so litt
tions, antl those of your own r

cause. There ig q
y to Peregrine
ottish Privileges aj

“T know nothing of a mortgage,” said the young lordTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 105

“bat thera_is a wadset for such a sum, which, if unre.
deem2d, will occasion the forfeiture of my whole paternal
estate, for a sum not above a fourth of its value—and it
is for that very reason that I press the King’s governs
ment for a settlement of the debts due to my father, that
I may be able to redeem my land from this rapacious
creditor.”

“A wadset in Scotland,” said Heriot, “is the same
with a mortgage on this side of the Tweed; but you are
not acquainted with your real creditor. The Conversator
Peterson only lends his name to shroud no less a man
than the Lord Chancellor of Scotland, who hopes, under
cover of this debt, to gain possession of the estate him-
self, or perhaps to gratify a yet more powerful third party.
He will probably suffer his creature Peterson to take
possession, and when the odium of the transaction shall
be forgotten, the property and lordship of Glenvarloch
will be conveyed to the great man by his obsequious in-
strument, under cover of a sale, or some similar device.”

“Can this be possible?” said Lord Nigel; “the Chan-

 

cellor wept when I took leave of him—called me his

cousin—even his son—furnished me with letters, and,

 

though I asked him for no pecuniary assistance, excused
himself unnecessarily for not pressing it on me, alleging
the expenses of his rank and his large family. No, I
cannot believe a nobleman would carry deceit so far.”
“Tam not, it is true, of noble blood,” said the citizen;
“but once more I bid you look on my gray hairs, and
think what can be my interest in dishonovring them with
falsehood in affairs in which I have no interest, save as
they regard the son of my benefactor. Reflect also,
aave you had any advantage from the Lord Chancellor's

39

etters ?f
EB
=
Zz
'

  

L106 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

“ None,” said Nigel Olifaunt, “except cold deeds and
fai words. I have thought for some time, their only
object was to get rid of me—one yesterday pressed
Inoney on me when I talked of going abroad, in order
that I might not want the means of exiling myself.”

“Right,” said Heriot; “rather than you fled not,
they would themselves furnish wings for you to fly
witbal.”

“J will to him this instant,” said the incensed youth,
“and tell him my mind of his baseness.”

“Under your favour,” said Heriot, detaining him, “ you
shall not do so. By a quarrel you would become the
ruin of me your informer; and though JI would venture
half my shop to do your lordship a service, I think you
would hardly wish me to come by damage, when it can
be of no service to you.”

The word shop sounded ‘harshly in the ear of the
young nobleman, who replied hastily—* Damage, sir ?—
so far am I from wishing you to incur damage, that I
would to Heaven you would cease your fruitless offers of
serving one whom there is no chance of ultimately
assisting ! ”

“Leave me alone for that,” said the citizen; “ you
have now erred as far on the bow-hand. Permit me to
take this Supplication—I will have it suitably engrossed,
and take my own time (and it shall be an early one) for
placing it, with more prudence, I trust, than that used by
your follower, in the King’s hand—I will almost answer
for his taking up the matter as you would have him—but
should he fail to do so, even then I will not give up the
good cause.”

“Sir,” said the young nobleman, “ your speech is so

‘

triendly, and my own state so helpless, that I know notTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 107

how to refuse your kind proffer, even while I blush to
Accept it at the hands of a stranger.”

“We are, I trust, no longer such,” said the goldsmith;
“and, for my guerdon, when my mediation proves suc-
cessful, and your fortunes are re-established , you shall
order your first cupboard of plate from Gent ree Herict.”

1 OU ey ta a bad paymaster, Mas

er

ster Her riot,”
said Lord Nigel.

“T do not fear that,” rephed the goldsmith ; “and lam
glad to see you smile, my lord—methinks it makes you
look still more like the good old lord your father: and it
emboldens me, besides, to bri ing out a small request—that
you would take a Hemi dinner with me to-morrow. I
lodge hard by, in Lombard Street. For the cheer, my
lord, a mess of white broth, a fat ca ipon well larded, a
dish of beef collops for auld Scotland’s sake, and it may
be a cup of right old wine, that was barrelled before
Scotland and England were one nation—Then for com-
pany, one or two of our own loving countrymen—and
maybe my housewife may find out a bonny Scots lass ot
so.”

“TI would accept your courtesy, Master Heriot,” said
Nigel, “but I hear the city ladies of London like to see a
man gallant—I would not like to let down a Scottish
nobleman in their ideas, as doubtless you have said the
best of our poor country, and I rather lack the means of
bravery for the present.”

“My lord, your frankness leads me a ster
said Master George. “I—lI owed your father some
monies ; and—nay, if your lordship looks at me so fix-
edly, I shall never tell my story—and, t o speak plainly,
for I never could carry a lie well through in my lite—it
is most fitting, that, to solicit this matter properly, yourWAVERLEY NOVELS.

 

LUS

lordship should go to Court in a manner beseeming your
quality. I am a goldsmith, and live by lending money as
well as by selling plate. I am ambitious to put an hun-
dred pounds to be at interest in your hands till your
affairs are settled.”

“And if they are never favourably settled?”
Nigel.

“Then, my lord,” returned the citizen, “the miscar-

said

riage of such a sum will be of little consequence to me,
compared with other subjects of regret.”

“ Master Heriot,’ said the Lord Nigel, “ your favour
is generously offered, and shall be frankly accepted. I
must presume that you see your way through this busi-
ness, though I hardly do; for I think you would be
grieved to add any fresh burden to me, by persuading
me to incur debts which I am not likely to discharge. I
will therefore take your money, under the hope and trust
that you will enable me to repay you punctually.”

“JT will convince you, my lord,” said the goldsmith,
“that I mean to deal with you as a creditor from whom
I expect payment; and therefore, you shall, with your
own good pleasure, sign an acknowledgment for these
monies, and an obligation to content and repay me.”

He then took from his girdle his writing materials,
and, writing a few lines to the purport he expressed,
pulled out a small bag of gold from a side-pouch under
his cloak, and, observing that it should contain an hun-
red pounds, proceeded to tell out the contents very
methodically upon the table. Nigel Olifaunt could not
help intimating that this was an unnecessary ceremonial,
ynd that he would take the bag of gold on the word of
iis obliging creditor ; but this was repugnant te the old
man’s forms of transacting business.THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 109

“ Bear with me,” he said, “ my good lord,—we citizens
are a wary and thrifty generation; and I should lose my
good name for ever within the toll of Paul’s, were I
to grant quittance, or take acknowledgement, without
bringing the money to actual tale. I think it be right
now—and, body of me,” he said, looking out of the win-
dow, “yonder come my boys with my mule; for I must
Westward Hoe. Put your monies aside, my lord; it is
not well to be seen with such goldfinches chirping about
ene in the lodgings of London. I think the lock of your
casket be indifferent good; if not, I can serve you at an
easy-rate with one that has held thousands ;—it was the
good old Sir Faithful Frugal’s ;—his spendthrift son se!d

 

the shell when he had eaten the kernel—and there is the
end of a city-fortune.”

“T hope yours will make a better termination, Master
Heriot,” said the Lord Nigel.

“T hope it will, my lord,’ said the old man, with a
smile; “but,” to use honest John Bunyan’s phrase—
‘therewithal the water stood in his eyes,’ “it has pleased
God to try me with the loss of two children; and for one

 

adopted child who lives—ah! woe is me! and well-a-day !
—But I am patient and thankful; and for the wealth
God has sent me, it shall not want inheritors while there
are orphan lads in Auld Reekie.—I wish you good-mor-
row, my lord.”

“One orphan has cause to thank you already,” said
Nigel, as he attended him to the door of his chamber,
where, resisting farther escort, the old citizen made his
pscape.

As, in going down stairs, he passed the shop where
Dame Christie stood becking,* he made civil inquiries

* Courtesying.‘g
e
vw

   
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
   
   
     
   
  

110 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

after her husband. The dame of course regretted his
absence ; but he was down, she said, at Deptford, to settle
with a Dutch ship-master.

“Our way of business, sir,” she said, “takes him much
from home, and my husband must be the slave of every
tarry jacket that wants but a pound of oakum.”

“All business must be minded, dame,” said the gold-
smith. “Make my remembrances—George Heriot of
Lombard Street's remembrances to your goodman. I
have dealt with him—he is just and punctual—true to
time and engagements ; be kind to your noble guest, and
see he wants nothing. Though it be his pleasure at
present to lie private and retired, there be those that care
for him, and I have a charge to see him supplied ; so that
you may let me know by your husband, my good dame,
how my lord is, and whether he wants aught.”

“And so he ¢s a real lord after all?” said the good
dame. “Tam sure I always thought he looked like one.
But why does he not go to Parliament, then?”

“He will, dame,” answered Heriot, “to the Parliament
of Scotland, which is his own country.”

“Oh! he is but a Scots lord, then,” said the good
dame; “and that’s the thing makes him ashamed to take
the title, as they say.” F

“Let him not hear you say so, dame,” replied the
cilizen.

“Who, I sir?” answered she; “no such matter in my
thought, sir. Scot or English, he is at any rate.a likely
man, and a civil man; and rather than he should want
any thing, I would wait upon him myself, and come ag
far as Lombard Street to wait upon your worship too.”

“Let your husband come to me, good dame,”

said the
goldsmith, who, with all his experience

and worth, wasTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. Tey

somewhat of a formalist and disciplinarian. “The proverb
says, ‘House goes mad when women gad;’ and let his
lordship’s own man wait upon his master in his chamber
—it is mare seemly. God give ye good-morrow.”
“Good-morrow to your worship,” said the dame, some-
what coldly; and, so soon as the adviser was out of hears
ing, was ungracious enough to mutter, in contempt of his
counsel, “ Marry quep of your advice, for an old Scotch
tinsmith, as you are! My husband is as wise, and very.
near as old, as yourself; and if I please him, it is well
enough; and though he is not just so rich just now as
some folks, yet I hope to see him ride upon his moyle,
with a foot-cloth, and have his two blue-coats after him,
as well as they do.”WAVERLEY NOVELS

CHAPTER ¥;

Wherefore come ye not to court ?
Certain ’tis the rarest sport ;

There are silks and Jewels glistening.
Pratiling fools, and wise men listening,
Bullies among brave men justling,
Beggars amongst nobles bustling ;
Low-breath’d talkers, minion lispers,
Cutting honest throats by whispers ;
Wherefore come ye not to court ?
Skelton swears ’tis glorious sport.

SKELTON SKELTONIZETH,

i? was not entirely out of parade that the benevolent

vitizen was mounted and attended in that m
as the reader has been

of spleen on the Pp

anner, which,
informed, excited a gentle degree
art of Dame Christie, which, to do her
justice, vanished in the little Soliloquy which we have
recorded. The good man, besides the n:
maintain the exterior of a man of worship, was at present
bound to Whitehall in order to exhibit a piece of valuable
workmanship to King James, which he deemed his Maj- re
esty might be pleased to view, or even to purchase. He
himself was therefore mounted upon his caparisoned

mule, that he might the better make his way through the

narrow, dirty, and crowded streets ; and while one of his

attendants carried under his arm the piece of plate

wrapped up in red baize, the ot}
its safety ; for such w

atural desire to

1er two gave an eye to
as the state of the police of theTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 113

metropolis, that men were often assaulted in the publie
street for the sake of revenge or of plunder; and those
who apprehended being beset, usually endeavoured, if
their estate admitted such expense, to secure themselves
by the attendance of armed followers. And this custom,
which was at first limited to the nobility and ventry, ex-
tended by degrees to those citizens of consideration, who,
heing understood to travel with a charge, as it was called,
might otherwise have been selected as safe subjects of
plunder by the street-robber.

As Master George Heriot paced forth westward with
this gallant attendance, he paused at the shop-door of his
countryman and friend, the ancient horologer, and having
caused Tunstall, who was in attendance, to adjust his
watch by the real time, he desired to speak with his
master ; in consequence of which summons, the old Time-
meter came forth from his den, his face like a bronze
bust, darkened with dust, and glistening here and there
with copper filings, and his senses so bemused in the in-
tensity of calculation, that he gazed on his friend the
goldsmith for a minute before he seemed perfectly to
comprehend who he was, and heard him express his invi-
tation to David Ramsay, and pretty Mistress Margaret,
his daughter, to dine with him next day at noon, to meet
with a noble young countryman, without returning any
answer.

“Tl make thee speak with a murrain to thee,” mut-
tered Heriot to himself; and suddenly changing his tone,
he said aloud,—“ I pray you, neighbour David, when are
you and I to have a settlement for the bullion wherewith
I supplied you to mount yonder hall-clock at Theobald’s,
and that other whirligig that you made for the Duke of
Buckingham? I have had the Spanish house to satisfy for
VOL. ¥ XVII. 8a ie oer

   

114 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

the ingots, and I must needs put you in mind that you
have been eight months behind-hand.”

There is something so sharp and azgre in the demand
of a peremptory dun, that no human tympanum, however
inaccessible to other tones, can resist the applicaticn.
David Ramsay started at once from his reverie, and

‘answered in a pettish tone, “Wow, George, man, what

needs aw this din about sax score o’ pounds? Aw the
world kens I can answer aw claims on me, and you
proffered yourself fair time, till his maist gracious Majesty
and the noble Duke suld make settled accompts wi me;
and ye may ken, by your ain experience, that I canna
gang rowting like an unmannered Highland stot to their
doors, as ye come to mine.”

Heriot laughed, and replied, “ Well, David, I see a
demand of money is like a bucket of water about your
ears, and makes you a man of the world at once. And
now, friend, will you tell me, like a Christian man, if you
will dine with me to-morrow at noon, and bring pretty
Mistress Margaret, my god-daughter, with you, to meet
with our noble young countryman, the Lord of Glenvar-
leek}?

“The young Lord of Glenvarloch!” said the old
mechanist ; “ wi’ aw my heart, and blithe I will be to see
he ws
twa years before me at the humanity classes—he is a
sweet youth.”

him again. We have not met these forty years

 

 

“That was his father—his father—his father !—you
old dotard Dot-and-carry-one that you are,” answered the
goldsmith. “ A sweet youth he would have been by this
time, had he lived, worthy nobleman! This i
Lord Nigel.”

“His son!” said Ramsay; “Maybe he will want

s his son, the

—THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 118

something of a chronometer, or watch—few gallants care
to be without them now-a-days.”

“He may buy half your stock-in-trade, it <ver he
comes to his own, for what I know,” said his friend ; “but,
Davie, remember your bond, and use me not as you did
when my housewife had the sheep’s-head and the cock-
a-leeky boiling for you as late as two of the clock
afternoon.”

“ She had the more credit by her cookery,” answered
David, now fully awake; “a sheep’ s-head, over-boiled,
were poison, according to our saying.”

“Well,” answered Master George, “but as there will
be no sheep’s-head to-morrow, it may chance you to spoil
a dinner which a proverb cannot mend. It may be you
may forgather with your friend, Sir Mungo Malagrow-
ther, for a purpose to ask his worship; so, be sure and
bide tryste, Davie.”

“That will I—I will be true as a chronometer,” said
Ramsay.

“J will not trust you, though,” replied Heriot.—* Hear
you, Jenkin boy, tell Scots Janet to tell pretty Mistress
Margaret, my god-child, she must put her father in re-
membrance to put on his best doublet to-morrow, and to
bring him to Lombard Street at noon. Tell her they are
to meet a brave young Scots lord.”

Jenkin coughed that sort of dry short cough uttered by
those who are either charged with errands which-they
do not like, or hear opinions to which they must not enter
a dissent.

“Umph!” repeates Master George—who, as we have
already shel was iia of a martinet in domestic
discipline—“ what does wnph mean? Will you ds mine

arrand, or not, sirrah?”~ Ch seis
ea

TED

  

116 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

“Sule, Master George Heriot,” said the apprentice,
touching his cap, “I enly meant that Mistress Margaret
was not likely to forget such an invitation.”

“Why, no,” said Master George; “she is a dutiful girl
to her godfather, thougn I sometimes call her a-jill-flirt.—
And, hark ye, Jenkin, you and your comrade had best
come with your clubs, to see your master and her safely
home; but first shut shop, and loose the bull-dog, and let
the porter stay in the fore-shop till your return. I will
send two of my knaves with you; for I hear these wild
youngsters of the Temple are broken out worse and
lighter than ever.”

“We can keep their steel in order with good handbats,”
said Jenkin; “and never trouble your servants for the
matter.”

“Or, if need’ be,” said Tunstall, “ we have swords as
well as the Templars.”

“Fie upon it—fie upon it, young man,” said the citizen;
—“ An apprentice with a sword !—Marry, Heaven fore-
fend! I would as soon see him in a hat and feather.”

“ Well, sir,” said Jenkin— we will find arms fitting to
our station, and will defend our master and his daughter,
if we should tear up the very stones of the pavement.”

“There spoke a London ’prentice bold,” said the cit-
zen; “and, for your comfort, my lads, you shall crush a
eup of wine to the health of the Fathers of the City. I
have.my eye on both of you

 

you are thriving lads, each
im his own way.—God be wi’ you, Davie. Forget not
to-morrow at noon.” And, so saying, he acain turned
ais mule’s head westward, and crossed Temple-Bar, at
that slow and decent amble, which at once became his
‘ank and civic importance, and put his pedestrian fok
fowers to no inconvenience to keep up with him.THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 117

At the Temple gate he again paused, dismounted, and
sought his way into one of the small booths occupied by
scriveners in the neighbourhood. A young man, with
lank smooth hair combed straight to his ears, and then
cropped short, rose, with a cringing reverence, pulled off
a slouched hat, which he would upon no signal replace on
his head, and answered with much demonstration of rever-
ence, to the goldsmith’s question of, “ How goes business,
Andrew ¢” “ Aw the better for your worship’s kind coun-
tenance and maintenance.”

“Get a large sheet of paper, man, and make a new
pen, with a sharp neb, and fine hair-stroke. Do not slit
the quill up too high, it’s a wastrife course in your trade,
Andrew—they that do not mind corn pickles, never come
to forpits. I have known a learned man write a thousand
pages with one quill.” *

« Ah! sir,” said the lad, who listened to the goldsmith,
though instructing him in his own trade, with an air of
veneration and acquiescence, “ how sune ony puir creature
like mysell may rise in the world, wi’ the instruction of
such a man as your worship!”

“ My instructions are few, Andrew, soon told, and not
hard to practise. Be honest—be industrious—be frugal
—and you will soon win wealth and worship.—Here,
copy me this Supplication in your best and most formal
hand. I will wait by you till it is done.”

* A biblical commentary by Gill, which, if the writer’s memory

serves him, occupies between five and six hundred printed quarto
pages, and must therefore have filled more pages of manuscript than
the number mentioned in the text, has this quatrain at the end of the
~olume—

‘‘ With one good pen I wrote this book,

Made of a gray goose quill;

A pen it was when it I took,

And a pen I leave it still.”aera Bitte Se ETT ee se
eer eee aaa en enn
FS a RR EDR OE ae CMTS ss

 

  

118 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

The youth lifted not his eye from the paper, and laid
not the pen from his hand, until the task was finished te
his cmployer’s satisfaction. The citizen then gave the
young scrivener an angel; and bidding him, on his life,
be secret in all business intrusted to him, again mounted
lus mule, and rode on westward along the Strand.

It may be worth while to remind our readers, that the
Temple-Bar which Heriot passed, was not the arched
screen, or gateway, of the present day; but an open rail-

g, or palisade, which, at night, and in times of alarm,
was closed with a barricade of pe and chains. ‘The
Strand also, along which he rode, was not, as now, a con-
tinued street, although it was beginning already to assume
that character. It still might be considered as an open
road, along the south side of which stood various houses
aud hotels belonging to the nobility, having gardens be-
hind them down to the water side, with stairs to the river,
for the convenience of taking boat ; which mansions have
bequeathed the names of their lordly owners to many of:
the streets leading from the Strand to the Thames. The

north side of the Strand was also a long g line of houses,
behind which, as in Saint Martin’s Lane. and other points,
buildings were rapidly arising ; but CoventiGatien was
still a garden, in the literal sense of the word, or at least
but beginning to be studded with irregular buildit ngs. All

that was woe around, however, ionelh the rapid

A
|
increase of a capital which had long enjoyed peaee,

wealth, and a erin ‘government. Houses were rising
in every direction; and the shrewd eye of our citinen
already saw the period not distant, which should convert
the nearly open highway on which he travelled. Into

sonnected and regular street, uniting the court and the
town with the city of London.THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 119

He next passed Charing-Cross, which was uo longer
the pleasant solitary village at which the judges Sere
wont to breakfast on their way to Westminster Hall, but
began to resemble the artery through which, to use Jchn-
son's expression, “pours the full tide of London popu-
lation.” The buildings were rapidly increasing, yet
scarcely gave even a faint idea of its present appearance.

At last Whitehall received our traveller, who passed
under one of the beautiful gates designed by Holbein, and
eompused of tessellated brick-work, being the same to
which Moniplies had profanely likened the West-Port of
Edinburgh, and entered the ample precincts of the palace
of Whitehall, now full of all the confusion attending im-
provement.

It was just at the time when James, little suspecting
that he was employed in constructing a palace, from the
window of which his only son was to pass in order that
he might die upon a scaffold before it,—was busied in
removing the ancient and ruinous buildings of De Burgh,
Henry VIIL., and Queen Elizabeth, to make way for the
superb architecture on which Inigo Jones exerted all his
genius. The King, ignorant of futurity, was now engaged
in pressing on his work; and, for that purpose, still main-

tained his royal apartments at Whitehall, amidst the rub-
bish of old buildings, and the various confusion attending
the erection of the new pile, which formed at present a
labyrinth not easily traversed.

The -goldsmith to the Royal Household, and who, if
fame spoke true, oftentimes acted as their banker,—for
these professions were not as yet separated from each
other,—was a person of too much importance to receive
the slightest interruption from sentinel or porter; and,
leaving his mule and two of his followers in the outer-BRO RET ae

WAVERLEY NOVELS.

court, he gently knocked at a postern-gate of the building,
and was presently admitted, while the most trusty of his
attendants followed him closely, with the piece of plate
under his arm. ‘This man also he left behind him in an
anteroom,—where three or four pages in the royal livery,
but untrussed, unbuttoned, and dressed more carelessly
than the place, and nearness to a King’s person, seemed
to admit, were playing at dice and draughts, or stretched
upon benches, and slumbering with half-shut eyes. A
corresponding gallery, which opened from the anteroom,
was occupied, by two gentlemen-ushers of. the chamber,
who gave each a smile of recognition as the wealthy gold-
smith entered.

No word was spoken on either side; but one of the
ushers looked first to Heriot, and then to a little door half-
covered by the tapestry, which seemed to say, as plain as
a look could, “Lies your business that way?” ‘The
citizen nodded; and the court-attendant, moving on tiptoe,
and with as much caution as if the floor had been paved
with eggs, advanced to the door, opened it gently, and
spoke a few words in a low tone. The broad. Scottish
accent of King James was heard in reply.‘ Admit him
instanter, Maxwell. Have you hairboured sae lang at
the Court, and not learned, that gold and silver are ever
welcome?”

The usher signed to Heriot to advance, and the honest
citizen was presently introduced into the cabinet of the
Sovereieon.

The scene of confusion amid which he found the King
seated, was no bad picture of the state and quality of
James’s own mind. There was much that was rich and
costly in cabinet pictures and valuable ornaments; but
they were arranged in a slovenly manuer, covered withTHE rURIUNES OF NIGEL. EI

dust. aud lost half their value, or at le
the manner in which they were

The table was loaded with huge folios, amongst which

ast their effect, from
presented to the eye.
lay light books of jest and ribaldry ; and, amongst notes
of unmercifully long orations, and essays on kine-craft,
were mingled miserable roundels and ballads by the Royal
‘Prentice, as he styled himself, in the art of poetry, and
schemes for the general pacification of Europe, with a
list of the names of the King’s hounds, and remedies
against canine madness.

The King’s dress was of green velvet, quilted so full
as to be dagger-proof—which gave him the appearance
of clumsy and ungainly protuberance; while its being
buttoned awry, communicated to his figure an air of dis-
tortion. Over his green doublet he wore a sad-coloured
nightgown, out of the pocket of which peeped his hunting-
horn. His high-crowned gray hat lay on the floor,

covered with dust, but encircled by a carcanet of large
balas rubies ; and he wore a blue velvet nightcap, in the
front of which was placed the plume of a heron, which
had been struck down by a favourite hawk in some cri-
tical moment of the flight, in remembrance of which the
King wore this highly honoured feather.

But such inconsistencies in dress and appointments
were mere outward types of those which existed in the
royal character ; rendering it a subject of doubt amongst
his contemporaries, and bequeathing it as a problem to
future historians. He was deeply learned, without pos-
sessing useful knowledge; sagacious in many individual
cases, without having real wisdom; fond of his power,
and desirous to maintain and augment it, yet willing to

v7

>

resion the direction of that, and of himself, to the most
unworthy favourites ; a big and bold assertor of his rights122 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

A nh in words. yet one who tamely saw them trampled on in
\ ° e . .
m4.) deeds; a lover of negotiations, in which he was always

6utwitted; and one who feared war, where conquest
might have been easy. He was fond of his dignity,
while he was perpetually degrading it by undue famiili-~
arity ; capable of much public labour, yet often neglecting
‘t for the meanest amusement; a wit, though a pedant ;
and a scholar, though fond of the conversation of the
ignorant and uneducated. Eyen his timidity of temper
was not uniform; and there were moments of his life,
and those critical, in which he showed the spirit of his
ancestors. He was laborious in trifles, and a trifler
where serious labour was required; devout in his senti-

 

ments, and yet too often profane in his language ; just
‘ and beneficent by nature, he yet gave way to the iniqui-
« ties and oppression of others. He was penurious respect-

" ing money which he had to give from his own hand, yet
He. : : 3 > : ;
i inconsiderately and unboundedly profuse ot that which he

did not see. In a word, those good qualities which dis-

f played themselves in particular cases and occasions, were
f not of a nature sufficiently firm and comprehensive to
t regulate his general conduct; and, showing themselves as
4 they occasionally did, only entitled James to the character

bestowed on him by Sully,—that he was the wisest fool
in Christendom.

That the fortunes of this monarch might be as little of
a piece as his character, he, certainly the least able of the
Stewarts, succeeded peaceably to that kingdom, against
the power of which his predecessors had, with so much
difficulty, defended his native throne ; and, lastly, although
his reign appeared calculated to ensure to Great Britain
that lasting tranquillity and internal peace which so much
suited the King’s disposition, yet, during that very reign,THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 123

were sown those seeds of dissension, which, like the teeth
of the fabulous dragon, had their harvest in a bloody and
universal civil war.*

Such was the monarch, who, saluting Heriot by the
name of Jingling Geordie, (for it was his well-known

custom to give nicknames to all those with whom he was

on terms of familiarity,) inquired what new clatter-traps
he had brought with him to cheat his lawful and native
Prince out of his siller.

“ God forbid, my liege,” said the citizen, “ that I should
have any such disloyal purpose. I did but bring a piece
of plate to show to your most gracious Majesty, which,
both for the subject and for the workmanship, I were
loath to put into the hands o a any subject until I knew
your Majesty’s pleasure anent it.”

“ Body o’ me, man, let’s see it, Heriot; though, by my
saul, Steenie’s service o’ plate was sae dear a bargain,
I had ’“maist pawned my word as a Royal King, to kets
my ain gold and silver in future, and let you, Geordie,
keep yours.”

* The dress of this monarch, together with his personal ap pearance,
is thus described by a ee ‘yi—

“He was of a middle stature, more corpulent through [#. e., by
means of] his clothes than in his body, yet fat enough. His legs
were very weak, having had, as was thought, some foul play in his
youth, or rather before he was born, that he was not able to stand
at seven years of age. That weakness made him ever leaning on
ther men’s shoulders. His walk was even circular; his hands are
in that walk ever fiddling about——[a part of dress now laid aside.]
He would make a great deal too bold with God in his Dee both
with cursing and swearing, and a strain higher, verging on blasphemy ;
but would, in his better temper, say, he hoped God would not impute
srem as sins, and lay them to his Be seeing they proceeded from
passion. He had need of great assistance, rather than hope, that
would daily make thus bold with God.”—DawzxE.i’s Sketches of
Scottish History, p. 86.

    
  
  
  
  
    
   
   
 
 
  
   
 
  
   
  
   
 
    
 
 
 
    
   

rmepmertimere annie
ae Gages: Vice se ho i ge wR Re

a ee

ee aheni eset A

Beas

Pee Wer

ie SS

 

 

124 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

“ Respecting the Duke of Buckingham’s plate,” said

the goldsmith, “ your Majesty was pleased to direct that

 

no expense should be spared, and ”

“ What signifies what IL desired, man? when a wise man
‘s with fules and bairns, he maun e’en play at the chucks.
But you should have had mair sense and consideration
than to gie Babie Charles and Steenie their ain gate;
they wad hae floored the very rooms wi’ silver, and I
wonder they didna.”

George Heriot bowed, and said no more. He knew
his master too well to vindicate himself otherwise than by
9 distant allusion to his order; and James, with whom
economy was only a transient and momentary twinge of
conscience, became immediately afterwards desirous to
see the piece of plate which the goldsmith proposed to
exhibit, and despatched Maxwell to bring it to his pres-
ence. In the meantime he demanded of the citizen
whence he had procured it.

“From Italy, may it please your Majesty,” replied
Heriot.

“Tt has naething in it tending to papestrie?” said the
King, looking graver than his wont.

“Surely not, please your Majesty,” said Heriot; “J
were not wise to bring any thing to your presence that
had the mark of the beast.”

“You would be the mair beast yourself toe do so,” said
the King; “it is weel kend that I wrestled wi’ Dagon in
my youth, and smote him on the ground-sill of his own
temple; a gude evidence that I should be in time called,
however unworthy, the Defender of the Faith But here
comes Maxwell, bending under his burden, like the Golden
Ass of Apuleius.” | :

Heriot hastened to relieve the usher, and to placeTHE FORTONES OF NIGEL. L35

» . 2 > ap, 7 - ] c
the embossed salver, for such it was, and of extraor-
inary dimensions, in a light favourable for his Majesty’s
viewing the sculpture.

66 € .

Saul of my b« ody, man,” said the King, “it is a curious
piece, and, as I think, fit for a Kin 1@’s chalmer; and the
subject, as you say, Master George, vera adequate and
beseeming—being, as I see, the judgment of Solomon-—=
a prince in whose paths it wie becomes a’ leeving mon
archs to walk with emulation.”

“ But whose footsteps,” said Maxwell, “only one of
them—if a subject may say so much—hath ever over
taken.”

“Haud your tongue for a fause fleeching loon!” said
the King, but with a smile on his face that showed the
flattery had done its part. “ Look at the bonny piece
And

of workmanship, and haud your clavering tongue.

 

whase handiwork may it be, Geordie ?”

“It was wrought, sir,” replied the goldsmith, “ by the
famous Florentine, Benvenuto Cellini, and designed for
Francis the First of France; but I hope it will find a
fitter master.”

“Francis of France!” said the King; “send Solomon,

 

a

King of the Jews, to Francis of France !—Body of me
mian, it would have kythed Cellini mad, had he never
done ony thing else out of the gate. Francis !—why, he q
was a fighting fule, man,—a mere fighting fule,—got
himself ta’en at Pavia, like our ain David at Durham
if they could hae sent him Selomon’s wit,

  

lang syne ;
and love of peace, and godliness, they wad hae dune him
a better turn. But Solomon should sit in other gate
company than Francis of France.”

“J trust that such will be his good fortune,” said Heriot.

   

“Jt is a curious and vera artificial sculpture,” said theSabina titres ie tg ae te CE DLS Ga oe eae: Ye

Fie eee cece Filan cenit sins aie toa Species out re Benes wn et

Page eT paere sss : Sage OS ara Pie Ie
Fe ee ee PEE eg at eae é * Dae

 

 

WAVERLEY NOVELS.

King, in continuation ; “but yet, methinks, the carnifex,
or executioner there, is brandishing his gulley ower near
the King’s face, seeing he is within reach of his weapon.
I think less wisdom than Solomon’s wad have taught him
that there was danger in edge-tools, and that he wad
have bidden the smaik either sheath his shabble, or stand
farther back.”

George Heriot endeavoured to alleviate this ok jection,
by assuring the King that the vicinity betwixt Solomon
and the executioner was nearer in appearance than in
reality, and that the perspective should be allowed for.

“ Gang to the deil wi’ your prospective, man,” said the
King; “there canna be a waur prospective for a lawfu’
king, wha wishes to reign in.luve, and die in peace and
honour, than to have naked swords flashing in his een.
I am accounted as brave as maist folks; and yet I pro-
fess to ye I could never look on a bare blade without
blinking and winking. But a’thegither it is a brave
piece ;—and what is the price of it, man?”

The goldsmith replied by observing, that it was not his
own property, but that of a distressed countryman.

“ Whilk you mean to mak your excuse for asking the
double of its worth, I warrant?” answered the King.
“T ken the tricks of you burrows-town merchants, man.”

“T have no hopes of baffling your Majesty’s sagacity,”
said Heriot; “the piece is really what I say, and the
price a hundred and fifty pounds sterling, if it pleases
your Majesty to make present payment.”

“A hundred and fifty punds, man! and as mony witches

!” said the irritated Monarch.

and warlocks to-raise them
« My saul, Jingling Geordie, ye are minded that your
purse shall jingle to a bonny tune !—How am I to tell

vou down a hundred and fifty punds for what will notTHE

FORTUNES OF

weigh as many merks? and ye ken that my very house-
hold sérvitors, and the officers of my mouth, are sax

months in arrear !”

   
 

The goldsmith stood h

us ground against all this obj

 
 

gation, being what he was well accustomed to, and oly ’
answered, that, if his Majesty liked the piece, and desi
to possess it, the price could be
true that the party required the money, but he, 3

Heriot, would advance

 
 
   
  

easily settled.

it on his Majesty’s account, if st

were his pleasure, and wait his royal conveniency for ae

 

ment, for that and other matters ; the money, meanwl

 

lying at the ordinary usage.

“ By my honour,”

 
 

“and that is

like an honest and reasona hiss tra “a ssman.

another subsidy frae

 
  

he Commons, and that

Maxwell—awa

compting of it. Awa wi’ it,

 

3abie Charles “shall see it

it be set where Steenie and ]

as they return from

   
 

2ichmond.—And now that we :

secret, my good auld friend Geordie, I do truly opine,

speaking of Solomon

 
 

and ourselves, the haill wisdom in

when we took our

the country left Scotland,

the Southland here.”

 
 

George Heriot was courtier ce to cs that “the

  

wise naturally follow the wisest,

leader.”

  
 

is some thing 1 in what thou say est,’

“'Troth, I think there

said James; “for we ourselves, and those of our court

 
 

household, as thou thyself

the English,

  
  

for as self-opinioned as they are, to pass

eine of those we

reasonable sood wits:

 
 

left behind are all astir,

and run clean mercies

 

vae mony warlocks and witches on the

Ven.”So conepman gt
SS Set

 

WAVERLEY NOVELS.

   

128

“J am sorry to hear this, my liege,” said Heriot.
“ May it please your Grace to say what our countrymen
have done to deserve such a character ?”

“They are become frantic, man—clean -brain-crazed,”
answered the King. “I cannot keep them out of the
Court by all the proclamations that the heralds roar
themselves hoarse with. Yesterday, nae farther gane,
just as we were mounted, and about to ride forth, in
rushed a thorough Edinburgh gutterblood—a ragged
rascal, every dud upon whose back was bidding good-day
to the other, with a coat and hat that would have served
a pease-bogle, and, without havings or reverence, thrusts
into our hands, like a sturdy beggar, some Supplication
about debts owing by our gracious mother, and siclike
trash ; whereat the horse spangs on end, and, but for our
admirable sitting, wherein we have been thought to excel
maist- sovereign princes, as well as subjects, in Europe,
I promise you we would have been laid endland on the
causeway.”

“Your Majesty,” said Heriot, “is their common father,
and therefore they are the bolder to press mto your
gracious presence.”

“T ken Iam pater patrie well enough,” said James ;
“but one would think they had a mind to squeeze my

-puddings out, that they may divide the inheritance. Ud’s

death, Geordie, there is not a loon among them can
deliver a Supplication, as it suld be done in the face of
majesty.”

‘I would I knew the most fitting and beseeming mode
to do so,” said Heriot, “ were it but to instruct our poor
countrymen in better fashions.”

“ By my halidome,” said the King, “ye are a ceevil-
eezed fellow, Geordie, and I carena, if I fling awa asTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEI 129

Ur I tue

much time as may teach ye. And, first, se
shall approach the presence of J Majesty thus,—shadowing
your eyes with your hand, to testify that you are in the
presence of the Vicegerent of Heaven.—Ve1 4 weel,
George, that is done in a comely m EC, sir, ye
sall kneel, and make as if ye would kiss the hem of our
garment, the latch of our shoe, or such like. Vera weel
enacted—whilk we, as being willing to be debonair and
pleasing towards our lieges, prevent thus,—and motion to
you to rise ;—whilk, having a boon to ask, as yet you
obey not, but, gliding your hand into your pouch, bring
forth your supplication, and place it reverential ly in our
open palm.” ‘The goldsmith, who had complied with

great accuracy with all the prescribed points of the cere-
taonial, here completed it, to James’s no small astonish-
ment, by placing in his hand the petition of the Lord of
Gienvarloch. “ What means this, ye fause loon?” said
he, reddening and sputtering ; “hae I been teaching you

eee sir—ye

 

the manual exercise, that ye suld present your piece at
our ain royal body ?—Now, by this light, I had as lief
that ye had bended a real pistolei against me, and yet this
hae ye done in my very cabinet, where nought suld enter
but at my ain pleasure.”

“T trust your Majesty,” said Heriot, as he continued
to kneel, “ will forgive my exercising the lesson you con-
lescended to give me in the behalf of a friend?”

“Of a friend!” said the King; “so much the waur, so
much the waur, I tell you. If it had been something to
do yoursell good, there would have been some sense in it,

t XT 7 ~ } } X7 » O hs Cry OF
and some chance that ee wad not have come back on

me in-a hurry; but a man im: we have a hundred friends,
a. 2 ¢ ] ni z l- ‘ Sag fe athatr 39
end petitions tor every ane of them, ilk ane after other.

“Your Majesty, I #rust,” said ee “will judge me

VOL. XXVII. yaie
ie
H
a
5 fie
a
ee

WAVERLEY NOVELS.

by former experience, and will not suspect me of such
presumption.”

“Y kenna,” said the placable monarch; “the world
goes daft, I think—sed semel insanivimus omnes—thou
art my old and faithful servant, that is the truth; and,
wert any thing for thy own behoof, man, thou sbouldst
not ask twice. But, troth, Steenie loves me so dearly,
that he cares not that any one should ask favours of me
but himself.—Maxwell, (for the usher had re-entered
after having carried off the plate,) get into the ante-
chamber wi’ your lang lugs.—In conscience, Geordie, I
think as that thou hast been mine ain auld fiduciary, and
wert my goldsmith when I might say with the Ethnic
poet—Non med renidet in domo lacunar—for, faith, they
had pillaged my mither’s auld house sae, that beechen
bickers, and treen trenchers, and latten platters, were
whiles the best at our board, and glad we were of some-
thing to put on them, without quarrelling with the metal
of the dishes. D’ye mind, for thou wert in maist of our
complots, how we were fain to send sax of the Blue-
banders to harry the Lady of Loganhouse’s dowcot and
poultry-yard, and what an awfu’ plaint the poor dame
made against Jock of Milch, and the thieves of Annan-
dale, wha were as sackless of the deed as I am of the sin
of murder?”

“It was the better for Jock,” said Heriot; “ for if I
remember weel, it saved him from a strapping up at
Dumfries, which he had weel deserved for other mis-
deeds.”

“Ay, man, mind ye that?” said the Kin “but he
had other virtues, for he was a tight huntsman, moreover,
that Jock of Milch, and could hollow to a hound till all
the woods rang again. But he came to an Annandale

oC
2THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 131

end at the last, for Lord Torthorwold run his lance out
through him.—Coceksnails, man, when I think of these
wild passages, in my conscience, 1 am not sure but we
lived merrier in auld Holyrood in these shifting days,
than now when we are dwelling at heck and manger.
Cantabit vacuus—we had but little to care for.”

“ And if your Majesty please to remember,” said th
goldsmith, “ the awful ee we had to gather a 7er-vessail
and gold-work enough to make some show before the

©

Spanish Ambassador.”

@

“Vera true,” said the King, now in a full tide of gossip,
“and I mind not the name of the right leal lord that
helped us with every unce he had in his house, that his
native Prince might have some credit in the eyes of them
that had the Indies at their beck.”

93

“T think, if your Majesty,” said the citizen, “ will cast
your eye on the paper in your hand, you will recollect
his name.”

“Ay!” said the King, “say ye sae, man ?—Lord
Justus et tenax

              

Glenvarloch, that was his nan
propositi—A. just man, but as obstinate as a baited bull.
He stood whiles against us, that Lord Randal Olifaunt
of Glenvarloch, but he was a loving and a leal subject in
the main. But this supplicator maun be his son—Randal
has been long gone where king and lord must go, Geordie,
as weel as the like of you—and what does his son want
with us ¢”

“The settlement,’ answel a the citizen, “of a large

ebt due oe your Majesty’s treasury, for money dvanced

to your Majesty in great state emergency, a about the time
of the Raid of Ruthven.’

“I mind the thing weel,” said King James—* Od’s
yeath, man, I was just out of the clutches of the Master

       
  
    
  
   
  
 
  
 
   
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    

masemsateoeepapame. ert"

ee aE. ES a

Ne ee ee

ere

7 SSN

 

WAVERLEY NOVELS.

of Glamis and his complices, and there was never siller
mair welcome to a born Prince,—the mair the shame and
pity that crowned King should need sic a petty sum.
But what ased he dun us for it, man, like a baxter at the
breaking? We aught him the siller, and will pay him
wi our convenience, or make it otherwise up to him,
Ve are not

 

whilk is enow between prince and subject
wm meditatione fuge, man, to be arrested thus perempto-
rily.”

“ Alas! an it please your Majesty,” said the goldsmith,
shaking his head, “it is the poor young nobleman’s ex-
treme necessity, and not his will, that makes him impor-
tunate; for he must have money, and that briefly, to
discharge a debt due to Peregrine Peterson, Conservator
of the Privileges at Campvere, or his haill hereditary
barony and estate of Glenvarloch will be evicted in
virtue of an unredeemed wadset.”

“How say ye, man—how say ye!” exclaimed the
King, impatiently ; “the carle of a Conservator, the son
of a Low-Dutch skipper, evict the auld estate and lord-
ship of the house of Olifaunt ?—God’s bread, man, that
maun not be—we maun suspend the diligence by writ of
favour, or otherwise.”

“TI doubt that may hardly be,” answered the citizen,
“if it please your Majesty; your learned counsel in the
law of Scotland advise, that there is no remeid but in
paying the money.”

“Ud’s fish,” said the King, “ let him keep haud by the
strong hand against the carle, until we can take some
order about his affairs.”

“Alas!” insisted the goldsmith, “if it like your Majes.
ly, your own pacific government, and your doing ot equal
justice to all men, has made main force a kittle line tcTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 138
walk «by, unless just within the bounds of the High-
Jands.’

“W eel—weel—weel, man,” said the perplexed mon-
arch, whose ideas of justice, expedience, and ae
became on such occasions strangely embroiled ; ‘ ‘just
is we should pay our debts, that the young man 1 nay pay
his ; and he must be paid, and zn verbo regis he shall be
paid—but how to come by the sillex Ene is a difficult
chapter—ye maun try the city, Geordie.’

“To say the truth,

99

answered Heriot, “ oe ase your
gracious Majesty, what betwixt loans and benevolences,
and subsidies, the city is at this present ”

 

“ Donna tell me of what the city is,” said King James ;
“our Exchequer is as dry as Dean Giles’s discourses en
the penitentiary psalms—Hxr nihilo nihil fit—It’s ill
taking the breeks aff a wild Highlandman—they that
come to me for siller, should tell me how to come by it—
the city ye maun try, Heriot; and donna think to be

ealled Jingling Geordie for nothing—and in verbo regis I

 

will pay the lad if you get me the loan—I wonnot haggle
on the terms; and, between you and me, Geordie, we
will redeem the brave auld estate of Glenvarloch.—But
wherefore comes not the young lord to Court, Heriot—is
he comely—is he presentable in the presence ?”

“No one can be more so,” said George Heriot;
* but ”?——

“ Ay, I understand ye, ” said his Majesty—“ I under-
stand ye—es angusta Sees lad—puir lad !—and

eee stiff j
his father a right true leal Scots heart, though stitf in
some opinions. Hark ye, Heriot, let the lad have twa

9?

hundred pounds to fit him out. And, here—here —
ub

(taking the carcanet of rubies from his old hat)—“ ye

have had these in pledge before for a larger sum, ye auld1
{

 

  

134 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

Levite that ye are. Keep them in gage, till I gie ye
back the siller out of the next subsidy.”

“If it please your Majesty to give me such directious
in writing,” said the cautious citizen.

“The deil is in your nicety, George,” said the King;
“ye are as preceese as a Puritan in form, and a mere
Nullifidian in the marrow of the matter. May not a
King’s word serve you for advancing your pitiful twa
hundred pounds?”

“ But not for detaining the crown jewels,” said George
Heriot.

And the King, who from long experience was inured
to dealing with suspicious creditors, wrote an order upon
George Heriot, his well-beloved goldsmith and jeweller,
for the sum of two hundred pounds, to be paid presently
to Nigel Olifaunt, Lord of Glenvarloch, to be imputed
as so much debts due to him by the crown; and author-
izing the retention of a carcanet of balas rubies, with a
great diamond, as described in a Catalogue of his Maj-
esty’s jewels, to remain in possession of the said George
Heriot, advancer of the said sum, and so forth, until he
was lawfully contented and paidethereof. By another
rescript, his Majesty gave the said George Heriot direc-
tions to deal with some of the moneyed men, upon equit-
able terms, for a sum of money for his Majesty’s present
use, not to be under 50,000 merks, but as much more as
could conveniently be procured.

“ And has he ony lair, this Lord Nigel of ours?” said
the King.

George Heriot could not exactly answer this questicn
but believed “the young lord had studied abroad.”

“ He shall have our own advice,” said the King, “ how
& carry on his studies to maist advantage; and it mayTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 135

be we will have him come to Court, and study with

Steenie, and Babie Charles. And, now we think on’t,

away—away, George—for the bairns will be coming

hame presently, and we would notas yet they kend of
this matter we have been treating anent. Propera pedem,
O Geordie. Clap your mule between your hough, and
god-den with you.”

Thus ended the conference betwixt the gentle King
Jamie and his benevolent jeweller and goldsmith.©
y

136 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

CHAPTER VL.

Oh, I do kuow him—’tis the mouldy lemon

Which our court wits will wet their lips withal
When they would sauce their honeyed conversation
With somewhat sharper flavour.—Marry, sir,

That virtue’s well-nich left him—all the juice

That was so sharp and poignant, is squeezed out;
While the poor rind, although as sour as ever,
Must season soon the draff we give our grunters,
For two-legg’d things are weary on’t.

THE CHAMBERLAIN—A COMEDY:

Tux good company invited by the hospitable citizen,
assembled at his house in Lombard Street at the “hollow
and hungry hour” of noon, to partake of that meal which
divides the day; being about the time when modern per-
sons of fashion, turning themselves upon their pillow,
begin to think, not without a great many doubts and
much hesitation, that they will by and by commence it.
Thither came the young N igel, arrayed plainly, but in a
dress, nevertheless, more suitable to his age and quality
than he had formerly worn, accompanied by his servant
Moniplies, whose outside also was considerably improved.
His solemn and stern features glared forth from under a
blue velvet bonnet, fantastically placed sideways on his
head—he had a sound and tough coat of English blue
broad-cloth, which, unlike his former vestment, would
have stood the tug of all the apprentices in Fleet Street.

Y
The buckler and broadsword he wore as the arms of hisTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 137

condition, and a neat silver badge, be 2aring his lord’s arms

Bp

announced that he was an appendage of ar nee Ht

©.

sat down in the good citizen’s buttery, not a little pleased
to find his attendance upon the table in the hall was
likely to be rewarded with his share of a meal such as
he had seldom partaken of.

Mr. David Ramsay, that profound and ingenious me-
chanic, was safely conducted to Lombard Street, accord-
ing to promise, well washed, brushed, and cleaned, from
the soot of the furnace and the forge. His daughter,
who came with him, was about twenty years old, very
pretty, very demure, yet with lively black eyes, that ever
and anon contradicted the expression of sobriety, to which
silence, reserve, a plain velvet hood, and a cambric ruff,
had condemned Mistress Marget, as the daughter of a
quiet citizen.

There were also two citizens and merchants of Lon-
don, men ample in cloak, and many-linked golden chain,
well to pass in the world, and experienced in their cratt
of merchandise, but who require no particular descrip-
tion. There was an elderly clergyman also, in his gown
and cassock, a decent venerable man, partaking in his
manners of the plainness of the citizens amongst whom
he had his cure.

These may be dism} ised with brief notice; but not so

Sir Mungo Malagrowther, of Girnigo Castle, who claims

little more attention, as an original character of the
time in which he flourished.

That good knight knocked at Master Heriot’s door just
as the clock began to s trike twelve, and was seated in his
ehair ere the last stroke had chimed. ‘This gave the
knight an excellent opportunity of making sarcastic ob-

yervations on all who came later than himself, not tocian Daa omar
SPR aa

Seay apaiemin et i.
Be REE,

jp Seaman

Saeed
xe: as

WAVERLEY NOVELS.

mention a few rubs at the expense of those who had been
s0 superfluous as to appear earlier.

Having little or no property save his bare designation,
Sir Mungo had been early attached to Court in the capac-
ity of whipping-boy, as the office was then called, to King
James the Sixth, and, with his Majesty, trained to all
polite learning by his celebrated preceptor, George Bu-
echanan. The office of whipping-boy doomed its unfor-
tunate occupant to undergo all the corporeal punishment
which the Lord’s Anointed, whose proper person was of
course sacred, might chance to incur, in the course of
travelling through his grammar and prosody. Under the
stern rule, indeed, of George Buchanan, who did not
approve of the vicarious mode of punishment, James
bore the penance of ‘his own faults, and Mungo Mala-
growther enjoyed a sinecure; but James’s other peda-
gogue, Master Patrick Young, went more ceremoniously
to work, and appalled the very soul of the youthful King
by the floggings which he bestowed on the whipping-boy,
when the royal task was not suitably performed. And
be it told to Sir Mungo’s praise, that there were points
about him in the highest respect suited to his official sit-
uation. He had even in youth a naturally irregular and
grotesque set of features, which, when distorted by fear,
pain, and anger, looked like one of the whimsical faces
which present themselves ina Gothic cornice. His voice
also was high-pitched and querulous, so that, when smart-
ing under Master Peter Young’s unsparing inflictions,
the expression of his grotesque physiognomy, and the
superhuman yells which he uttered, were well suited to
produce all the effects on the Monarch who deserved the
lash, that could possibly be produced by seeing anothes
and an innocent individual suffering for his delict.THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 139

Sir Mungo Malagrowther, for such he became, thus
got an early footing at Court, which another would have
improved and maintained. But, when he grew too big
to be whipped, he had no other means of renderi ing
himself acceptable. A bitter, caustic, and backbiting
humour, a malicious wit, and an envy of others more
prosperous than the possessor of such amiable qualities,
have not, indeed, always been found obstacles to a cour-
tier’s rise; but then they must be amalgamated with a
degree of selfish cunning and prudence, of which Sir
Mungo had no share. His satire ran riot, his envy could
not conceal itself, and it was not long after his majority
till he had as many quarrels upon his hands as would
have required a cat’s nine lives to answer. In one of
these rencontres he received, perhaps we should say for-
tunately, a wound, which served him as an excuse for
answering no invitations of the kind in future. Sir Rul-
lion Rattray, of Ranagullion, cut off, in mortal combat,
three of the fingers of his right hand, so that Sir Mungo
never could hold sword again. At a later period, having
written some satirical verses upon the Lady Cockpen, he
received so severe a chastisement from some persons em-
ployed for the purpose, that he was found half dead on
the spot where they had thus dealt with him, and one of
his thighs having been broken, and ill set, gave him a
hitch in his gait, with which he hobbled to his grave.
The lameness of his leg and hand, besides that they added
considerably to the grotesque appearance of this original,
orocured him in future a personal immunity from th

a ©

>
A

more dangerous consequences of his own humour ; ar
he eradually erew old in the service of the Court, in
safety of life and limb, though without either making
friends, or attaining preferment. Sometimes, indeed, thePit

'

140 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

King was amused with his caustie sallies, but he had
never art enough to improve the favourable opportunity ;
and his enemies (who were for that matter the whole
Court) always found means to throw him out of favour
again. The celebrated Archie Armstrong offered Sir
Mungo, in his generosity, a skirt of his own fool’s coat,
proposing thereby to communicate to-him the privileges
and immunities of a professed jester—‘ For,” said the
man of motley, “ Sir Mungo, as he goes on just now, gets
no more for a good jest than just the King’s pardon for
having made it.”

Even in London, the golden shower which fell around
him, did not moisten the blighted fortunes of Sir Mungo
Malagrowther. He grew old, deaf, and peevish—lost
even the spirit which had formerly animated his stric-
tures—and was barely endured by James, who, though
himself nearly as far stricken in years, retained, to an
unusual and even an absurd degree, the desire to be sur-
rounded by young people.

Sir Mungo, thus fallen into the yellow leaf of years
and fortune, showed his emaciated form and faded
embroidery at Court as seldom as his duty permitted;
and spent his time in indulging his food for satire in the
public walks, and in the aisles of Saint Paul’s, which
were then the general resort of newsmongers and charac-
ters of all descriptions, associating himself chiefly with
such of his countrymen as he accounted of inferior birth
and rank to himself. In this manner. hating and can-
temning commerce, and those who pursued it, he never-
theless lived a good deal among the Scottish artists and
merchants, who had followed the Court to London. To
these he could show his cynicism without much offence
for some submitted to his jeers and ill humour in deferTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 141

ence to his birth and knighthood, which in those days
>, wa —— een ~ : .

conferred high privueges—and others, of more sense,
pitied and endured the old man, unhappy alike in his
fortunes and his temper.

Amongst the latter was George Heriot, who, though

his habits and education induced him to carry aristocrat-
ical feelings to a degree which ee now be thought

extravagant, had too much spirit and good sense to per-
mit himself to be intruded upon to an unauthorized ex-
eess, or used with the slightest improper freedom, by
such a person as Sir Mungo, to whom he was, neverthe-
less, not only respectfully civil, but essentially kind, and
even generous.

Accordingly, this appeared from the manner in which
Sir Mungo Malagrowther conducted himself upon enter-
ing the apartment. He paid his respects to Master
Heriot, and a decent, elderly, somewhat severe-looking
female, in a coif, who, by the name of Aunt Judith, did
the honours of his house and table, with little or no por-
tion of the supercilious acidity, which his sn gular phys-
iognomy assumed when he made his bow successively te
David Ramsay, and the two sober citizens. a thrust
himself into the conversation of the latter, to observe he
had heard in Paul’s, that the bankrupt concerns of Pin-
divide, a great merchant,—who, as he expressed it, had
given the crows a pudding, and on whom he knew, from
the same authority, each of the honest citizens had some
unsettled claim, was like to prove a total loss—* stock and
block, ship and cargo, keel and rigging, all lost, now and
for ever.”

The two citizens grinned at each other; but too
affairs the subject of public
together, and evaded farther

Pp ru-

dent to make their private
discussion, drew their heads

yonversation by speaking in a whisper.

       
   
 
  
 
 
  
  
   
    
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
   
 
  
  
 

Amana arya{42 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

The old Scots knight next attacked the watchmaker
“ Davie,” he

 

with the same disrespectful familiarity.
said, “ Davie, ye donnard auld idiot, have ye no gane
mad yet, with applying your mathematical science, as ye
call it, to the Book of Apocalypse? I expected to have
heard ye make out the sign of the beast, as clear as a
tout on a bawbee whistle.”

“Why, Sir Mungo,” said the mechanist, after: making
an effort to recall to his recollection what had been said
to him, and by whom, “it may be, that ye are nearer the
mark than ye are yoursell aware of; for, taking the ten
horns o’ the beast, ye may easily estimate by your digi-
tals ”

“My digits! you d—d auld, rusty, good-for-nothing
timepiece!” exclaimed Sir Mungo, while, betwixt jest

 

and earnest, he laid on his hilt his hand, or rather his
claw, (for Sir Rullion’s broad-sword had abridged it into
that form,)—“ D’ye mean to upbraid me with my mutila-
tion ?”

Master Heriot interfered. “I cannot persuade our
friend David,” he said, “that scriptural prophecies are
intended to remain in obscurity, until their unexpected
accomplishment shall make, as in former days, that ful-
filled which was written. But you must not exert your
knightly valour on him for all that.”

“By my saul, and it would be throwing it away,” said
Sir Mungo, laughing. “I would as soon set out, with
hound and horn, to hunt a sturdied sheep; for he is ina
doze again, and up to the chin in numerals, quotients,
and dividends.—Mistress Margaret, my pretty honey,”
for the beauty of the young citizen made even Sir Mungo
Malagrowther’s grim features relax themselves a iittle,
“is your father always as entertaining as he seems just
now?”THE FORTUNES OF NIGEt.. 14

Oo

Mistress Marearet simpered, bridled, looked to either
side, then straight before her; and, having assumed all
the airs of bashful embarrassment and timidity which
were necessary, as she thought, to cover a certain shrewd
readiness which really belonged to her character, at
length replied, “That indeed her father was very thought-
ful, but she had heard, that he took the habit of mind
from her grandfather.”

“Your grandfather!” said Sir Mungo,
if he had heard her aright,—“ Said she her grandfather !
The lassie is distraught !—I ken nae wench on this side
of Temple-Bar that is derived from so distant a relation.”

“She has got a godfather, however, Sir Mungo,” said
George Heriot, again interfering; “and I hope you will
allow him interest enough with you, to request you will

 

after doubting

not put his pretty god-child to so deep a blush.”

“The better—the better,” said Sir Mungo. “Itisa
credit to her, that, bred and born within the sound of
Bow-bell, she can blush for any thing ; and, by my saul,
Master George,” he continued, chucking the irritated and
reluctant damsel under the chin, “she is bonny enough
to make amends for her lack of ancestry—at least in such
a region as Cheapside, where, d’ye mind me, the kettle
cannot call the porridge-pot ”——

The damsel blushed, but not so angrily as before.
Master George Heriot hastened to interrupt the conclu-
sion of Sir Mungo’s homely proverb, by introducing him
personally to Lord Nigel.

Sir Mungo could not at first understand what his host
said.— Bread of Heaven, wha say ye, man? ”

Upon the name of Nigel Olifaunt, Lord Glenvarloch,
into his ear, he drew up, and,

being again hollowed
1 some austerity, rebuked

regarding his entertainer witl144 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

him for not making persons of quality acquainted with
each other, that they might exchange courtesies before
they mingled with other folks. He then made as hand-
some and courtly a congee to bis new acquaintance as a
man maimed in foot and hand could do; and, observing
he had known my lord, his father, bid him welcome to
London, and hoped he should see him at Court.

Nigel in an instant comprehended, as well from Sir
Mungo’s manner, as from a strict compression of their
entertainer’s lips, which intimated the suppression of a
desire to laugh, that he was dealing with an original of
no ordinary description, and, accordingly, returned his
courtesy with suitable punctiliousness. Sir Mungo, in
the meanwhile, gazed on him with much earnestness ;
and, as the contemplation of natural advantages was as
odious to him as that of wealth, or other adventitious
benefits, he had no sooner completely perused the hand-
some form and good features of the young lord, than, like
one of the comforters of the man of Uz, he drew close up
to him, to enlarge on the former grandeur of the Lords
of Glenvarloch, and the regret with which he had heard
that their representative was not likely to possess the
domains of his ancestry. Anon, he enlarged upon the
beauties of the principal mansion of Glenyarloch—the
commanding site of the old castle—the noble expanse of
the lake, stocked with wild-fowl for hawking—the
manding screen of forest, terminatin
abounding with deer—and all the
that fine and ancient barony, till Nigel, in Spite of every
llingly obliged to sigh.

Sir Mungo, skilful in discerning when the withers of
those he conversed with were wrung, observed that his
New acquaintance winced, and would willincly have

com-
gina mountain-ridge
other advantages of

effort to the contrary, Was unwiTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 14%

pressed the discussion; but the cook’s impatieut knock
upon the dresser with the haft of his dudgeon-knife, now
gave a signal loud enough to be heard from the top of the
house to the bottom, summoning, at the same time, the
serving-men to place the dinner upon the table, and the
guests to partake of it.

Sir Mungo, who was an admirer of good cheer,—a
taste which, by the way, might have some weight in re-
conciling his dignity to these city visits,—was tolled off
by the sound, and left Nigel and the other guests in
peace, until his anxiety to arrange himself in his due
place of pre-eminence at the genial board was duly grati-
fied. Here, seated on the left-hand of Aunt Judith, he
beheld Nigel occupy the station of yet higher honour on
the right, dividing that matron from pretty Mistress
Margaret; but he saw this with the more patience, that
there stood betwixt him and the young lord a superb
larded capon.

The dinner proceeded according to the form of the
times. All was excellent of the kind; and, besides the
Scottish cheer promised, the board displayed beef and
pudding, the statutory dainties of old England. A small
cupboard of plate, very choicely and beautifully wrought,
did not escape the compliments of some of the company,
and an oblique sneer from Sir Mungo, as intimating the
owner’s excellence in his own mechanical craft.

“Tam not ashamed of the workmanship, Sir Mungo,”
said the honest citizen. “They say, a good cook knows
how to lick his own fingers; and, methinks it were un-
seemly that I, who have furnished half the cupboards in
broad Britain, should have my own covered with paltry
pewter.”

The blessing of the clergyman now left the guests at

VOL. XXVII. 10146 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

liberty to attack what was placed before them; and the
meal went forward with great decorum, until Aunt Judith,
in farther recommendation of the capon, assured her
company, that it was of a celebrated breed of poultry,
which she had herself brought from Scotland.

“Then, like some of his countrymen, madam,” said the
pitiless Sir Mungo, not without a glance towards his land-
lord, “he has been well larded in England.”

“There are some others of his countrymen,” answered
Master Heriot, “to whom all the lard in England has not
been able to render that good office.”

Sir Mungo sneered and reddened, the rest of the com-
pany laughed; and the satirist, who had his reasons for
not coming to extremity with Master George, was silent
for the rest of the dinner.

The dishes were exchanged for confections, and wine
of the highest quality and flavour; and Nigel saw the
entertainments of the wealthiest burgomasters, which he
had witnessed abroad, fairly outshone by the hospitality
of a London citizen. Yet there was nothing ostentatious,
or which seemed inconsistent with the degree of an opu-
Jent burgher.

While the collation proceeded, Nigel, according to the
good-breeding of the time, addressed his discourse prin-
cipally to Mrs. Judith; whom he found to be a woman
of a strong Scottish understanding, more inclined towards
the Puritans than was her brother George, (for in that
relation she stood to him, though he always called her
wunt,) attached to him in the Strongest degree, and sedu-
\ously attentive to all his comforts. As the conversation
of this good dame was neither lively nor fascinating, the
yaung Jord naturally addressed himself next to the old
horologer’s very pretty daughter, who sat upon his leftTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 147

hand. From her, however, there was no extracting any
reply beyond the measure of a monosyllable; and when
the young gallant had said the best and most con nplaisant
things which his courtesy supplied, the smile that mantled
upon her pretty mouth was so slight and evanescent, as
scarce to be discernible

Nigel was beginning to tire of his company, for the
eld citizens were speaking with his host of commercial
matters in language to him totally unintelligible, when Sir
Mungo Malagrowther suddenly summoned their attention.

That amiable personage had for some time withdrawn
from the company into the recess of a projecting window,
so formed and placed, as to command a view of the door
of the house, and of the street. This situation was prob-

by Sir Mungo: on account of the number

ably preferred
of objects which the streets of a metropolis usually offer,
of a Ikind congenial to the thoughts of a splenetic man.
What he had hitherto seen passing there, was probably
of little consequence; but now a trampling of horse was
heard without, and the knight suddenly exclaimed,—* By
my faith, Master George, you had better go look to shop:
for here comes Knighton, the Duke of Buckingham’s
groom, and two fellows after him, as if he were my Lord
Duke himself.”

“ My cash-keeper. is below,” said Heriot, without dis-
turbing himself, “and he will let me know if his Grace’s
commands require my immediate attention.”

“ Umph !—cash-keeper?” muttered Sir Mungo te him-
self; “he wad have had an easy office when I first kend
ae said he, speaking aloud, “ will you not come

the window, at least? for Knighton has trundled a
re of silver plate into your house—ha! ha! ha!l—
\rundled it upon its edge, as a allan’ would drive a hoop.|

  

148 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

[ cannot help laughing—ha! ha! ha!—at the fellow’s
impudence.”

“TI believe you could not help laughing,” said George
Heriot, rising up and leaving the room, “if your best

93

friend lay dying.

 

“ Bitter that, my lord—ha?~’ said Sir Mungo, address-

be hath no leaden wit. But I will go down, and see
what comes on’t.”

ing Nigel. “ Qur friend is not a goldsmith for nothing—

Heriot, as he descended the stairs, met his cash-keeper
coming up, with some concern in his face.— Why, how
now, Roberts,” said the goldsmith, “ what means all this,
man?”

 

“It is Knighton, Master Heriot, from the court—
Knighton, the Duke’s man. He brought back the salver
you carried to Whitehall, flung it into the entrance as if
it had been an old pewter platter, and bade me tell you,
the King would have none of your trumpery.”

“Ay, indeed!” said George Heriot—<None of my
trumpery !—Come hither into the compting-room, Rob-
erts.—Sir Mungo,” he added, bowing to the knight, who
had joined, and was preparing to follow them, “I pray
your forgiveness for an instant.”

In virtue of this prohibition, Sir Mungo, who, as well
as the rest of the company, had overheard what passed
betwixt George Heriot and his cash-keeper, saw himself
condemned to wait in the outer business-room, where he
would have endeavoured to slake his eager curiosity by
questioning Knighton; but that emissary of
after having added to the uncivil message of his master
some rudeness of his own, had again se
ward, with his satellites at his heels.

In the meanwhile, the name of the Duke of Bucking.

greatness,

ampered west-THE

 

FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 149

ham, the omnipotent favourite both of the King and the
Prince of Wales, had struck some anxiety into the party
which remained in the great parlour. He was more
feared than beloved, and, if not absolutely of a tyrannical
disposition, was accounted haughty, violent, and vin-
dictive. It pressed on Nigel’s heart, that he himself,
though he could not conceive how, nor why, might be the
original cause of the resentment of the Duke against his
benefactor. The others made their comments in whis-
pers, until the sounds reached Ramsay, who had not heard
a word of what had previously passed, but plunged in
those studies with which he connected every other inci-
dent and event, took up only the catchword, and replied,
—‘The Duke—the Duke of Buckingham—George Vil-
liers—ay—I have spoke with Lambe about him.”

“Our Lord and our Lady! Now, how can you say
so, father?” said his daughter, who had shrewdness
enough to see that her father was touching upon dan-
gerous ground.

“ Why, ay, child,” answered Ramsay; “the stars do
but incline, they cannot compel. But well you wot, it is
commonly said of his Grace, by those who have the skill
to cast nativities, that there was a notable conjunction of
Mars and Saturn—the apparent or true time of which,
reducing the calculations of Eichstadius made for the lati-
tude of Oranienburgh to that of London, gives seven
hours, fifty-five minutes, and forty-one seconds ”

“ Hold your peace, old soothsayer,” said Heriot, who
at that instant entered the room with a calm and steady

 

rountenance; “your calculations are true and undeniable
when they regard brass and wire, and mechanical force ;
sut future events are at the pleasure of Him who bears
\he hearts of kings in his hands.”150 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

“ Ay. but, George,” answered the watchmaker, “ there
was a concurrence of signs at this gentleman’s birth, which
showed his course would be a strange one. Long has it
been said of him, he was born at the very meeting of
night and day, and under crossing and contending in-
fluences that may affect both us and him.”

‘ Full moon and high sea,
Great man shalt thou be:

Red dawning, stormy sky,
Bloody death shalt thou die.’ ”’

“Tt is not good to speak of such things,” said Heriot,
“especially of the great; stone walls have ears, and a
bird of the air shall carry the matter.”

Several of the guests seemed to be of their host’s
opinion. ‘The two merchants took brief leave, as if under
consciousness that something was wrong. Mistress Mar-
garet, her body-guard of ’prentices being in readiness,
plucked her father by the sleeve, and, rescuing him from
a brown study, (whether referring to the wheels of T ime,
or to that of Fortune, is uncertain,) wished good-night
‘o her friend Mrs. Judith, and received her godfather’s
blessing, who, at the same time, put upon her slender
finger a ring of much taste and some value; for he seldom
suffered her to leave him without some token of his affec-
tion. Thus honourably dismissed, and accompanied by
her escort, she set forth on her return to Fleet Street,

Sir Mungo had bid adieu to Master Heriot as
out from the back compting-room, but such wa

re came
s the inter-
est which he took in the affairs of his friend, t]

Master George went up stairs, he could not h

at, when
elp walking
inte that sanctum Sanctorum, to see how Master Roberts
was employed. The knight found the cash ‘keeper busyTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 15]

in ma king extracts from those huge brass-cel: asped leathern-

bound manuscript folios, which are the pride and trust of

xYACE
is out. The good knight leant his elbows on the de

ya

dealers, and the dread of customers whose year of
av

0g

sk,
and said to the functionary, in a con doling tone of voice,
—“ What ! you have lost-a good customer, I fear, Master
Roberts, and are busied in making out his bill of charges?”

Now, it chanced that Roberts, like Sir Mungo himself,
was a little deaf, and, like Sir Mungo, knew also how to
make the most of it; so that he answered at cross pur-
poses,— I humbly crave your pardon, Sir Mungo, for
not havimg sent in your bill of charge sooner, but my
master bade me not dist urb ) you. a will bring the items

together in a moment.” So saying, he began to turn over
£3
i

the leaves of his book of fate, murmuring, “ Repairing

 

ane silver seal—new clasp to his chain of office

we

over-gilt brooch to his hat, being a Saint Andrew’s cross,
with thistles

 

a copper gilt pair of spurs,—this to Daniel
Driver, we not dealing in the article.”

He would have proceeded; but Sir Mungo, not pre-
pared to endure the recital of the oie of his own
petty debts, and still less willing to satisfy them on the
spot, wished the book-keeper, cavalierly, good-night, and
left the house without farther ceremony. ‘The clerk
looked after him with a civil city sneer, and immediately

3

resumed the more serious labours which Sir Mungo’s

intrusion had interrupted.*

* It will perhaps be recognised by some of my countrymen, that the
caustic Scottish knight, as described in Chapter VI., borrowed some
of his attributes from a most worthy and respectable nateden rho was
Edinburgh society about twenty-five or thirty years

Y

to be met with in
00. It is not by any means to be inferred that the living person
5 . :

resembled the imaginary one in the course of life ascribed to him, or

in his personal attributes. But his fortune was little adequate to hisnat a ag Tete »
AIRE. Mee pe?

j
1.
fe

7

 

152 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

rank and the antiquity of his family; and, to avenge himself of thia
disparity, the ‘vorthy Baronet lost no opportunity of making the more
avowed sons of fortune feel the edge of his satire. This he had the
art of disguising under the personal infirmity of deafness, and usually
introduced his most severe things by an affected mistake of what was
said around him. For example, at a public meeting of a certain
county, this worthy gentleman had chosen to display a laced coat, of
such a pattern as had not been seen in society for the better part of a
century. The young men who were present amused themselves with
rallying him on his taste, when he suddenly singled out one of the
party :—‘Auld d’ye think my coat—auld-fashioned ?—indeed it canna
be new; but it was the wark of a braw tailor, and that was your
grandfather who was at the head of the trade in Edinburgh about the
beginning of 1ast century.’? Upon another occasion, when this type
of Sir Mungo Malagrowther happened to hear a nobleman, the high
chief of one of those Border clans who were accused of paying very
little attention in ancient times to the distinctions of Meum and Tuum,
addressing a gentleman of the same name, as if conjecturing there
should be some relationship between them, he volunteered to ascer-
tain the nature of the connection by saying, that the “ chief’s ances-
tors had stolen the cows, and the other gentleman’s ancestors had killed
them,’’—fame ascribing the origin of the latter family to a butcher.
It may be well imagined, that, among a people that have been always
punctilious about genealogy, such a person, who had a general ac-
guaintance with all the flaws and specks in the shields of the proud,
the pretending, and the nouveau riches, must have had the same
scope for amusement as a monkey in a china shop.FHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. ye

we
Cw

Nhiwn - ae - 1 L4 4 :
Things needful we have thought on; but the thing
Of all most needful—that which Scripture terms,
As if alone it merited regard,

105

The one thing needful—that’s yet unconsider’d.
THE CHAMBERLAIN.
7 ee che : ° :
WHEN the rest of the company had taken their mes
ure from Master Heriot’s house, the young Lord ot’ Glen-
varloch also offered to take leave; but his host detained
him for a few minutes, until all were gone excepting the
clergyman.
Od
“ My lord,” then said the worthy citizen, “ we have had
our permitted hour of honest and hospitable pastime, and

oraver pur-

Y

now I would fain delay you for another and
pose, as it is our custom, when we have the benefit of
good Mr. Windsor’s company, that he reads the prayer:
of the church for the evening before we separate. Your
excellent father, my lord, would not have departed before
tamily Sti hope the same from your lordship.”

“ With pleasure, sir,
in the invitation an additional obligation to those with
which you have loaded me. When young men forget
what is their duty, they owe deep thanks to the friend

answered Nigel; “and you add

=

33

who will remind them of it.”

hile the y talked to: vether in t he serving

on
—
_
mM
px
~
ie
a
®
>

men had removed fhe folding sie aa forward a

4

1 hairvae and gaanerks
sortable reading-desk, and placed chairs and hassocks1a4 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

for their master, their mistress, and the noble stranger
Another low chair, or rather a sort of stool, was placed
close beside that of Master Heriot; and though the cir-
eumstance was trivial, Nigel was induced to notice it,
because, when about to occupy that seat he was pre-
vented by a sign from the old gentleman, and motioned
to another of somewhat more elevation. ‘The clergyman
took his station behind the reading-desk. The domestics,
a numerous family both of clerks and servants, including
Moniplies, attended with great gravity, and were accom-
modated with benches.

The household were all seated, and, externally at least,
composed to devout attention, when a low knock was
heard at the door of the apartment; Mistress Judith
looked anxiously at her brother, as if desiring to know
his pleasure. He nodded his head gravely, and looked
to the door.’ Mistress Judith immediately crossed the
chamber, opened the door, and led into the apartment a
beautiful creature, whose sudden and singular appearance
might have made her almost pass for an apparition. She
was deadly pale—there was not the least shade of vital
red to enliven features, which were exquisitely formed,
and might, but for that circumstance, have been termed
transcendently beautiful. Her long black hair fell down
ever her shoulders and down her back, combed smoothly
end regularly, but without the least appearance of decora-
tion or ornament, which looked very singular at a period
when head-gear, as it was called, of one sort or other, was
generally used by all ranks. Her dress was of pure white,
of the simplest fashion, and hiding all her person except-

- ing the throat, face, and hands, Her form was rather

beneath than above the middle size, but so justly propor-
tioned and elegantly made, that the spectator’s attentionTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 155

was entirely withdrawn from her size. In contradivtion

of the extreme plainness of all the rest of her attire, she
wore a necklace which a duchess might have envied, so
large and lustrous were the brilliants of which it was
composed; and around her waist a zone of rubies of
scarce inferior value.

When this singular figure entered t apartment, she

1

2» oWaad Neg ac ~ =O 1 1
east her eyes on Nigel, and paused, as if uncertain whether

UCL

to advance or retreat. The clance w hich she took of him
seemed to be one ae of uncertainty and hesitation
than of bashfulness or timidity. a unt .

—-

lith took her
by the hand, and led her slowly forward—her dark eyes
however, continued to be fixed on Nigel, with an expres-

gely affected.

sion of melancholy by which he felt stran
Even when she was seated on the vacant stool, which
was placed there probably for her accommodation, she
again looked on him more than once with the same pen-
sive, lingering, and anxious expression, but without either
shyness or embarrassment, not even so much as to call
the slightest degree of complexion into her cheek.

So soon as this singular female aa taken up the
prayer-book, which was laid upon her cushion, she seemed
immersed in devotional duty; and although Nigel’s atten-
tion to the service was so much disturbed by this extra.
ordinary apparition, that he looked towards her repeatedly
in the course of the service, he could never observe that
her eyes or her thoughts strayed so much as a single mo-
ment from the task in which she was engaged. Nigel
himself was less attentive, for the appearance of this lady

ee
seemed so extraordinary, that, strictly as he had been bred

overential a7) f
up by his father to pay the most reverential attention
during performance of divine service, his thoughts,

spite of himself; were disturbed by her presence, a and he

  

      
  
  
   
     
 
   
   
   
  
   
    
   
 
  
  
    
 
  
    
 
    

saabnc an oyie
ise

ie EDM

 

 

 

156 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

earnestly wished the prayers were ended, that his curios-
ity might obtain some gratification. When the service
was concluded, and each had remained, according to the
decent and edifying practice of the church, concentratec
in mental devotion for a short space, the mysterious
visitant arose ere any other person stirred; and Nigel
remarked that none of the domestics left their places, or
even moved, until she had first kneeled on one knee to
Heriot, who seemed to bless her with his hand laid on her
head, and a melancholy solemnity of look and action.
She then bended her body, but without kneeling, to Mis-
tress Judith, and having performed these two acts of
‘reverence, she left the room; yet just in the act of her
departure, she once more turned her penetrating eyes on
Nigel with a fixed look, which compelled him to turn his
own aside. When he looked towards her again, he saw
only the skirt of her white mantle as she left the apart-
ment.

The domestics then rose and dispersed themselves—
wine, and fruit, and spices, were offered to Lord Nigel
and to the clergyman, and the latter took his leave. ‘The
young lord would fain have accompanied him, in hope to
get some explanation of the apparition which he had
beheld, but he was stopped by his host, who requested to
speak with him in his compting-room.

.

“T hope, my lord,” said the citizen, “ that your prepa-
rations for attending Court are in such forwardness that
you can go thither the day after to-morrow. It is, per-
haps, the last day for some time, that his Majesty will
hold open court for all who have pretensions by birth,
rank, or office, to attend upon him. On the subsequent
Jay he goes to Theobald’s, where he is so much occupied
with hunting and other pleasures, that he cares not to be

‘otruded on.”THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 157

és i 1]
*E shall be in all outward readiness to pay my duty,”
. 7} ( - S ae
said the young nobleman, “yet I have little heart to do it.

Bee asp ce ; : :
The friends trom whom f oucht to have found enccurave.
= JAAN oS Ae

ment and protection, have proved cold and false—I

 

¢ se
certainly will not trouble them for their countenance on this
occasion—and yet IT must confess my childish unw illing-

ness to enter quite alone upon so new a scene.”
~*~ 0 E ie K

“Tt is bold of nic like ]
t is ld of a pr like me to make such an

©

offer to a nobleman,” said Heriot; “but I must attend at
Court to-morrow. I can accompany you as far as the
presence-chamber, from my privilege as bein
household. I can facilitate your entrance, should you
find difficulty, and I can point out the pipet manner and
time of approaching the King. But I do not know,” he
added, smiling, “ whether these little advantages will not
be overbalanced by the incongruity of a  poblevnos receiv-
ing them from the hands of an old smith.”

“From the hands rather of the only friend I have
found in London,” said Nigel, offering his hand.

“Nay, if you think of the matter in that way,” replied
the honest citizen, “there is no more to be ne will
come for you to-morrow, with a barge proper to the
occasion.— But remember, my good young lord, that I do
not, like some men of my degree, wish to take opportunity
to step beyond it, and associate with my sup¢ sriors in rank,
and therefore do not fear to mortify my presumption, by
suffering me to keep my distance in the presence, and
where it is fitting for both of us to separate; and for what
remains, most truly happy shall I be in proving of service
to the son of my ancient patron.”

The style of conversation led so far from the poimt
which had interested the young nobleman’s curiosity, that

° [ a 7 Toa } APA "|
there was no returning to it that night. He thereforeWAVERLEY NOVELS.

exchanged thanks and greeting with George Heriot, and
took his leave, promising to be equipped and in readiness
to embark with him on the second successive morning at
ten o’clock.

The generation of linkboys, celebrated by Count An-
theny Hamilton, as peculiar to London, had already, in
the reign of James I., begun their functions, and the
service of one of them with his smoky torch, had been
secured to light the young Scottish lord and his follower
to their own lodgings, which, though better acquainted than
formerly with the city, they might in the dark have run
some danger of missing. This gave the ingenious Mr.
Moniplies an opportunity of gathering close up to his
master, after he had gone fireueh the form of slipping
his left arm into the handle of his buckler, and loosening
his broadsword in the sheath, that he might be ready for
whatever should befall.

“Tf it were not for the wine and the good cheer which
we have had in yonder old man’s house, my lord,” said
the sapient follower, “and that I ken him by report to be
a just living man in many respects, and a real Edinburgh
gutterblood, I should have been well pleased to have seen
how his feet were shaped, and whether he had not a
cloven cloot under the braw roses and cordovan shoon of
his.”

“Why, you rascal,” answered Nigel, “you have been
too kindly treated, and now that you have filled your ray-
enous stomach, you are railing on the good gentleman
that relieved you.”

“Under favour, “no, my lord,” said Moniplies,—*1
would only like to see something mair about him. I have

eaten his meat, it is true—more shame that the like of

 

him should have meat to give, when your lordship andTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 159

me could scarce have osotte our OW!
1 scarce have gotten, on our own account, brose
and a bear bannock—I have drunk his wine, too.”
es
“I see you have,” replied his master, “a
more than you should have done.”

great deal

66 > » ‘ . > A ic 2 > ae VT ° °
Under your patience, my lord,” said Moniplies, “ you
are pleased to say that, because I crushed a quart with

that jolly boy Jenkin, as they call the ‘prentice boy, and
that was out of mere acknowledgment for his oe kind-
ness—I own that I, moreover, sur g the good old song of
Elsie Marley, so as they never heard it chanted in
their lives ”

 

\

) as they went on

A

And withal (as John Bunyan says
their way, he sung—

* Oh, do ye ken Elsie Marley, honey—

The wife that sells the barley, honey!

For Elsie Marley’s grown sae fine,

She winna get up to feed the swine.

Oh, do ye ken ’?——
Here in mid career was the songster interrupted by the
stern gripe of his master, who threatened to baton him to
death if he brought the city-watch upon them by his ill-
timed melody.

“TI crave pardon, my lord—I humbly crave pardon—-

only when I think of that Jen Win, as they call him, I
ean hardly help humming— Oh, do ye ken’—But I crave

7

your honour’s pardon, and will be total

>

y dumb, if you
oe v

pomwend

command me so.”

“No, sirrah!” said Nigel, “talk on, for I well know
you would say and suffer more under pretence of holding
your peace, than when you get an unbridled license.
How is it, then? What have you to say against Master
Heriot ?”

tt seems more than. probable, that in permitting this160 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

license, the young lord hoped his attendant would stumble
upon the subject of the young lady who had appeared at
prayers in a manner so mysterious. But whether this
was the case, or whether he merely desired that Moniplies
should utter in a subdued and under tone of voice, those
spirits which might otherwise have vented thernselves in

o, it is certain he permitted his attendant

obstreperous son
to proceed with his story in his own way.

“ And therefore,” said the orator, availing himself of
his immunity, “I would like to ken what sort of a carle
this Maister Heriot is. He hath supplied your lordship
with wealth of gold, as I can understand; and if he has, I
make it for certain he hath had his ain end in it, accord-
ing to the fashion of the world. Now, had your lordship
your own good lands at your guiding, doubtless, this per-

 

 

y son, with most of his craft—goldsmiths they call them-
i} selves—I say usurers—wad be glad to exchange so many
lg ° : . +

ie pounds of African dtist, by whilk I understand gold,

‘ against so many fair acres, and hundreds of acres, of
e broad Scottish land.”

. “But you know I have no land,” said the young lord,
“at least none that can be affected by any debt which I

Sey, t§ :

pee

can at present become obliged for—I think you need not

way

have reminded me of that.” °

“True, my lord, most true; and, as your lordship says,
open to the meanest capacity, without any unnecessary
expositions. Now, therefore, my lord, unless Maister
George Heriot has something mair to allege as a motive
for his liberality, vera different from the possession of

 

your estate—and moreover, as he could gain little by the
capture of your body, wherefore should it not be your
soul that he is in pursuit of ? ”
denies & rare
My soul, you rascal!” said the young lord; “ what

rood should my sonl do him ?”
t Py RN At bineTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 161

“What do I ken about that?” said Moniplies; “ they
go about roaring and seeking whom they may devour—
doubtless, they like the food that they rage so much about
—and, my lord, they say,” added Moniplies, drawing up
still closer to his master’s side, “they say that Master
Heriot has one spirit in his house woe

“How, or what do you mean?” said Nigel; “I will
break your head, you drunken knave, if you sili with
me any longer.”

“ Drunken?” answered his trusty adherent, “and is
this the story ?—why, how could I but drink your lord-
ship’s health on my bare knees, when Master Jenkin
began it to me?—hang them that would not?—TI would
have cut the impudent knave’s hams with my broad.
sword, that should make scruple of it, and so have made
him kneel when he should have found it difficult to rise
again. But touching the spirit,” he proceeded, finding
that his master made no answer to his valorous tirade,
“ your lordship has seen her with your own eyes.”

“J saw no spirit,” said Glenvarloch, but yet breathing
thick as one who expects some singular disclosure, “ what
mean you by a spirit ?”

“You saw a young lady come in to prayers, that spoke
not a word to any one, only made becks and bows to the
old gentleman and lady of the house—ken ye wha
she is?”

“ No, indeed,” answered Nigel; “some relation of the
family, I suppose.”

“Deil a bit—deil a bit,” answered Moniplies, hastily,
*not a blood-drop’s kin to them, if she had a drop of
blood in her body—lI tell you but what all human beings

nllege to be truth, that dwell within hue and cry ot
Lombard Street—that lady, or quean, or whatever you

VOL. XXVII diie
'

tm
si pens Rist

 

 

 

162 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

choose to call her, has been dead in the body these many
a year, though she haunts them, as we have seen, even
al their very devotions.”

“ You will allow her to be a good spirit at least,” said
Nigel Olifaunt, “since she chooses such a time to visit
her friends?”

“For that I’kenna, my lord,” answered the supersti-
tious follower: “I ken no spirit that would have faced
the right down hammer-blow of Mess John Knox, whom
my father stood by in his very warst days, bating a
chance time when the Court, which my father supplied
with butcher-meat, was against him. But yon divine has
another airt from powerful Master Rollock, and Mess
David Black, of North Leith, and sic like.
wha can ken, if it please your lordship, whether sic

 

Alack-a-day !

prayers as the Southron read out of their auld blethering
black mess-book there, may not be as powerful to invite
fiends, as a right red-het prayer warm frae the heart,
may be powerful to drive them away, even as the Evil
Spirit was driven by the smell of the fish’s liver from the
bridal-chamber of Sara, the daughter of Raguel? As to
whilk story, nevertheless, I make scruple to say whether
it be truth or not,-better men than Iam having doubted
on that matter.”

“Well, well, well,” said his master, impatiently, “we
are now near home, and I have permitted you to speak
of this matter for once, that we may have an end of your
prying folly, and your idiotical superstitious, for ever.
For whom do you, or your absurd authors cr informers,
take this lady ?”

“T can say naething preceesely as to that,’ answered
Moniphes; “certain it is her body died and was laid in
the grave many a day since, notwithstanding she stillTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 163

—

Oo

family, though she hath been seen in other

randers on earth, and chi efly amongst Maister Heriot’s
places by
them that well knew her. But who she is, I will not
warrant to say, or how she becomes attached, like a Hich-
land Brownie, to some peculiar family. They say she
has a row of apartments of her own, anteroom, parlour

~~

acl

and bedroom; but deil a bed she slex eps in but her own
coffin, and the walls, doors, and windows are so chinked
up, as to prevent the least blink of daylight from enter-

99

ing; and then she dwells by torchlight ”——

B>

“'To what purpose, if she be a spirit?” said Nigel
Olifaunt.

“How can I tell your lordship?” answered his attend-
ant. “I thank God, I know nothing of her likings, or
mislikings—only her coffin is there; and I leave your
lordship to guess what a live person has to do with a
coffin. As little as a ghost with a lantern, I trow.”

“What reason,” repeated Nigel, “can a creature so
young and so beautiful have, already habitually to con-
template her bed of last long rest?”

“Tn troth, I kenna, my lord,” answered Moniplies ;
“but there is the coffin, as they told me who have seen

It is made of heben-wood, with silyer nails, and lined
all through with three-piled damask, might serve a prin-
cess to rest in.”

“ Singular,” said Nigel, whose brain, like that of most
active young spirits, was easily caught by the singular
wod the pee 3 “ does = not eat with the family ?”

“Who !—she!”
at the Baton of shy aa need a lang spoon would
sup with her, I trow. Always there is something Bu for
her into the Tower, as they call it, whilk is a whigma-
leery of a whirling-box, that turns round half on the tae

d Moniplies, as if surprised

            

 

aide o” the wa’, half on the tother.”WAVERLEY NOVELS.

“T have seen the contrivance in foreign nunneries,’
said the Lord of Glenvarloch. “And is it thus she re-
reives her food? ” 3

“They tell me something is put in ilka day, for fashion’s
sake,” replied the attendant; “but it’s no to be supposed
she would consume it, ony mair than the images of Bel
and the Dragon consumed the dainty vivers that were
placed before them. ‘There are stout yeomen and cham-
ber queans in the house, enow to play the part of Lick-
it-up-a’, as well as the threescore and ten priests of Bel,
besides their wives and children.”

“And she is never seen in the family but when the
hour of prayer arrives?” said the master.

“ Never that I hear of,” replied the servant.

“Tt is singular,” said Nigel Olifaunt, musing. “ Were
it not-for the ornaments which she wears, and still more for
her attendance upon the service of the Protestant Church,
I should know what to think, and should believe her
either a Catholic votaress, who, for some cogent reason,
was allowed to make her cell here in London, or some
unhappy Popish devotee, who was in the course of under-
going a dreadful penance. As it is, I know not what to
deem of it.”

His reverie was interrupted by the linkboy knocking
at the door of honest Jobn Christie, whose wife came
forth with “quips, and becks, and wreathed smiles,” to
welcome her honoured guest on his return to his apart.
ment.THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 159

OW ADPDTRPR Wir
CHAPT i it y If.

Ay! mark the matron well—and laugh not, Har LE FY"
At her old steeple-hat and velvet guard—

Pve call’d her like the ear of Dionysius;

I mean that ear-form’d vault, built o’er his d lungeon,
To catch the groans and discontented murmurs
Of his poor bondsmen—Even so doth Martha
Drink up, for her own purpose, all that passes,
Or is supposed to pass, in this wide city—

She can retail it too, if that her profit

Shall call on her to do so; and retail it

For your advantage, so that you can make

Your profit jump with hers.
THE CONSPIRACY
woh vc pagdar’a « Intar
WE must now introduce to the reader's acd ualntance
5 700 > hn ) wmMnorts fay | rand her
another character, busy and important far beyond he

ostensible situation in society—in a word,
Suddlechop, wife of Benjamin Suddlechop, the most

. Tr) Cy Pal Bee J > es
renowned barber in all Fleet Street. This dame had

] ZL
i

her own Pane ar merits, the principal part of which

was (if her own report could be trust eC an infinite desire
tc be of service to her fellow-creature Leavine to he
thin half-starved partner the boast of having the most

+

n London,

ey
—
joe
en

S.
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ea
rs

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OD
L

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=

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ea

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a
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cD

;

dexterous snap w
and the care of a cp where starved apprentices flayed

oo
pt
—
Oo
pd
bed
yaad
Ne

the faces of those whvu were boobies enough to trus!

q

y odd turns and windings, that Jt

: - re ] Ary aa LAC
the dame drove:a separate and more lucrative trades
which yet had so many
seemed in many respects to contra adie itself.a
Be
t
ill
1

DGS

nt ee

pay

 

 

:

ae

  

166 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

Its highest and most important duties were of a very
secret and confidential nature, and Dame Ursula Suddle-
chop was never known to betray any transaction intrusted
to her, unless she had either been indifferently paid for
her service, or that some one found it convenient to give
her a double douceur to make her disgorge the secret;
and these contingencies happened in so few cases, that
her character for trustiness remained as unimpeached as
that for honesty and benevolence.

In fact, she was a most admirable matron, and could be
useful to the impassioned and the frail in the rise, pro-
gress, and consequences of their passion. She could con-
trive an interview for lovers who could show proper
reasons for meeting privately; she could relieve the frail
fair one of the burden of a guilty passion, and perhaps
establish the hopeful offspring of unlicensed love as the
heir of some family whose love was lawful, but where an
heir had not followed the union. More than this she
could do, and had been concerned in deeper and dearer
secrets. She had been a pupil of Mrs. Turner, and
learned from her the secret of making the yellow starch,
and, if may be, two or three other secrets of more conse-
quence, though perhaps none that went to the criminal]
extent of those whereof her mistress was accused. But
all that was deep and dark in her real character, was
covered by the show of outward mirth and good humour,
the hearty laugh and buxom jest with which the dame
knew well how to conciliate the elder part of her neigh-
bours, and the many petty arts by which she could ree-
ommend herself to the younger, those especially of her
own sex.

Dame Ursula was, in appearance, scarce past forty, and
her full, but not overgrown form, and still comely features,THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 264
although her person was plumped out, and her face some-
y € iy] wy J ir oy a >

what coloured by good cheer, had a joyous expression of
gaiety and good-humour, which set off the

beauty in the wane.

remains of
Marriages, births, and christenings,
were seldom thought to be performed with sufficient cere«
mony, for a considerable distance round her abode, unless
Dame Ursley, as they called her, was present. She could
contrive all sorts of pastimes, games, and jests, which

might amuse the large lee which the hospitality

of our ancestors assembled together on suc ie occasions, st

S60
i

that her presence was lite: ‘ally cons widened as indispens-
able in the family of all citizens of ordin lary rank, on such
joyous occasions. So much also was she supposed to
know of life and its labyrinths, that she was the willing
confidant of half the loving couples in the vicinity, most
of whom used to communicate their secrets to, and receive
their counsels from, Dame Ursley. The rich rewarded
her services with rings, owches , Or 2 old p! 1eces, which she
liked still better; and she very generously gave her
assistance to the poor, on the same mixed p1 ‘inciples as
youn® ta in medicine assist them, partly from
compassion, and partly to keep her hand in use.

Dame Ursley’s reputation in the ae was the greater
that her practice had extended beyond Temple-Bar, and
that she had acquaintances, nay, patrons and patronesses,
among the quality, whose rank, as their members were
much fewer, and the ore of approaching the courtly
sphere much more difficult, bore a degree of consequence
waknown to the present ¢ ne when the toe of the citizen
presses so close on the courtier’s heel. Dame Ursley
maintained her intercourse with this superior rank of
customers, partly by driving a small trade in perfumes,
essences, pomades, head-gears from France, dishes orSil eee

 

 

  

168 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

prnaments from China, then already beginning to be
fashionable ; not to mention drugs of various descriptions,
chiefly for the use of the ladies, and partly by other
Eervices, more or less connected with the esoteric branches
of her profession heretofore alluded to.

Possessing such and so many various modes of thriving,
Dame Ursley was nevertheless so poor, that she might
probably have mended her own circumstances, as well as
her husband’s, if she had renounced them all, and set her-
self quietly down to the care of her own household, and
to assist Benjamin in the concerns of his trade. But
Ursula was luxurious and genial in her habits, and could
no more have endured the stinted economy of Benjamin’s
board, than she could have reconciled herself to the bald
chat of his conversation.

It was on the evening of the day on which Lord Nigel
Olifaunt dined with the wealthy goldsmith, that we must
introduce Ursula Suddlechop upon the stare She had
that morning made a long tour to Westminster, was
fatigued, and had assumed a certain large elbow-chair,
rendered smooth by frequent use, placed on one side of
her chimney, in which there was lit a small but bright
fire. Here she observed, betwixt cloepine and waking,
the simmering of a pot of ee ale, on the brown
surface of which ee a small crab-apple, sufficiently
roasted, while a little mulatto girl watched, still mor
attentively, the process of dressing a veal sweetbread, ‘n
1 silver stewpan which occupied the other side of the
chimney. With these viands, doubtless, Dame Ursula
proposed concluding the well-spent day, of which she
reckoned the labour over, and the rest at her own com-
mand. She was deceived, however; for just as the ale,

to speak technically, the lamb’s-wool, was fitted forTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEt. 169

drinking, and the nine dingy maiden intimated that the

sweetbread was ready to be eaten, the thin cracked voice
of Benjamin was ee trom the bottom of the stairs.

Whe
Why, Dame Ursley—why, wife, I say—why, dame—
r ] qT TO! Oo ‘ Me y + hl
why, love, you are wanted more than a strop for a blunt
razor—why, dame ”———
‘ cay
“I would some one would draw the razor across thy

windpipe, thou bawling ass!” said the dame to herself,

in the first moment of irritation, against her clamorous
helpmate ; and then called aloud,—“ Why, what is the
matter, Master Suddlechop? I am just going to slip

into bed; I have been daggled to and fro the whole

©
99

day.

“ Nay, sweetheart, it is not me,” said the patient Ben-
jamin, “but the Scots laundry- ed from neighbor
Ramsay’s, who must speak with you incontinent.”

At the word sweetheart, Dame Ursley cast a wistful
look at the mess which was stewed to a second in the
stewpan, and then replied, with a sigh,— Bi
Jenny come up, Mister Suddlechop. I sha
happy to hear what she has to say;” then added in a
lower tone, “and I ae she will go to the devil in the
flame of a tar-barrel, like many a Scots witch before
her ! ”

The Scots laundress entered accordingly, and having
heard nothing of the last kind wish of Dame Suddlechop,

made her reverence with considerable respect, and said,
her young mistress had returned home unwell, and wished
to see her neighbour, Dame Ursley, directly.

“ And why will it not do to-morrow, Jenny, my good
woman?” said Dame Ursley;.“ for I have been as far
as Whitehall to-day already, and I am well-nigh worn off
my feet, my good woman,”Baie ial

SNe: 1

Es ate 8

 

i
«
if
He:

170 WAVERLEY NCVELS.

“ Aweel!” answered Jenny, with great composure,
“and if that sae be sae, I maun take the langer tramp
mysell, and maun gae down the waterside for auld Mother
Redcap, at the Hungerford Stairs, that deals in comfort-
ing young creatures, e’en as you do you! sell, hinny; for
ane o’ ye the bairn maun see before she sleeps, and ihat’s
a’ that I ken on’t.”

So saying, the old emissary, without farther entreaty,
turned on her heel, and was about to retreat, when Dame
Ursley exclaimed,—* No, no—if the sweet child, your
mistress, has any necessary occasion for good advice and
kind tendance, you need not go to Mother Redcap, Janet.
She may do very well for skippers’ wives, chandlers’
daughters, and such like; but nobody shall wait on pretty
Mistress Margaret, the daughter of his most Sacred
Majesty’s horologer, excepting and saving myself. And
so I will but take my chopins and my cloak, and put on
my muffler, and cross the street to neighbour Ramsay’s
in an instant. But tell me yourself, good Jenny, are you
not something tired of your young lady’s frolics and
change of mind twenty times a-day ?”

“In troth, not I,” said the patient drudge, “ unless it
may be when she is a wee fashious about washing her
laces; but I have been her keeper since she was a bairn,
neighbour Suddlechop, and that makes a difference.”

“ Ay,” said Dame Ursley, still busied putting on addi-
tional defences against the night air; “and you know for
certain that she has two hundred pounds a-year in good
land, at her own free disposal ? ”

“Left by her grandmother, Heaven rest her soul!”
said the Scotswoman ; “and to a daintier lassie she could
vot have bequeathed it.”

“Very true, very true, mistress ; for with all her littleTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 171

Whins, 1 have always said Mistress Margaret Ramsay
ras the prettiest girl in the ward; and, Jenny I warrant
the poor child has had no supper?”

Jenny could not say but it was the case, “for, her
master being out, the twa ’prentice lads had gene out
after shutting shop, to fetch them home, and she and the
other maid had gone out to Sandy Mac-Givan’s, to see a
friend frae Scotland.”

“As was very natural, Mrs. Janet,” said Dame Ursley,
who found her interest in assenting to all sorts of prope
sitions from all sorts of persons.

“ And so the fire went out, too,” said Jenny.

“Which was the most natural of the whole,” said
th
supper that I was

matter short,

(qe)

Dame Suddlechop; “and so, to cut
1a
Or

}

Jenny, Vil carry over the little bit o
going to eat. For = I have tasted none, and it may
be my young pretty Mistress Marget will eat a morsel
with me; for it is mere emptiness, Mistress Jenny, that
often puts these fancies of illness into young folk’s heads.”
So saying, she put the silver posset-cup with the ale into
Jenny’s hands, and assuming her m aantle with the alacrity
of one determined to sacrifice inclination to duty, she hid
the stewpan under its folds, and commanded Wilsa, the
little mulatto girl, to light them across the street.

“Whither away so late?” said the barber, whom they
passed seated with his starveling boys round a mess of
stock-fish and parsnips, in the shop below.

“Tf I were to tell you, Gaffer,” said the dame, with
most contemptuous coolness, “I do not think pos could
do my errand, so I will e’en keep it tom yself.” Benja-
min was too much accustomed to his wite’s independent
mode of conduct, to pursue his inquiry farther; nor did
the dame tarry for farther question, but marched ont at172 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

the door, telling the eldest of the boys “to sit up ull her
return, and look to the house the whilst.”

The night was dark and rainy, and although the dis-
tance betwixt the two shops was short, it allowed Dame
Ursley leisure enough, while she strode along with high~
tucked petticoats, to imbitter it by the following grumbling
reflections—“ I wonder what I- have done, that J must
needs trudge at every old beldam’s bidding, and every

 

young minx’s’ maggot! I have been marched from
Temple-Bar to Whitechapel, on the matter of a pin-
maker’s wife having pricked her fingers—marry, her
husband that made the weapon might have salved the
wound.—And here is this fantastic ape, pretty Mistress
Margaret, forsooth—such a beauty as I could make of a
Dutch doll, and as fantastic, and humorous, and conceited,
as if she were a duchess. JI have seen her in the same
day as changeful as a marmozet, and as stubborn as a
mule! I should like to know whether her little conceited
noddle, or her father’s old’ crazy, calculating jolter-pate,
breeds most whimsies. But then there’s that two hun-
dred pounds a-year in dirty land, and the father is held a

 

close chuff, though a fanciful—he is our landlord besides,

and she has begged a late day from him for our rent; so,
besides, the little

capricious devil is my only key to get at Master George

God help me, I must be conformable

 

Heriot’s secret, and it concerns my character to find that
out; and so, andiamos, as the lingua franca hath it.”
Thus pondering, she moved forward with hasty strides
until she arrived at the watchmaker’s habitation. The
attendant admitted them by means of a pass-key. On-
ward glided Dame Ursula, now in glimmer and now in
yloom, not like the lovely Lady Cristabelle, through
Gothic sculpture and ancient armour. but creeping andTHLE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 173

stumbling amongst relics of old machines, and models of
new inventions in various branches of mechanics, with
which wrecks of useless ingenuity, either in a broken or
half-finished shape, the apartment of the fanciful though
ingenious mechanist was continually lumbered.

At length they attamed, by a very narrow staircase,
pretty Mistress Margaret’s apartment, where she, the
cynosure of the eyes of every bold young bachelor m
Fleet Street, sat in a posture which hovered between the
discontented and the disconsolate. For her pretty back
and shoulders were rounded into a curve, her round and
dimpled chin reposed in the hollow of her little palm,
while the fingers were folded over her mouth; her elbow
rested on a table, and her eyes seemed fixed upon the
dying charcoal, which was expiring in a small grate.
She scarce turned her head when Dame Ursula entered,
and when the presence of that estimable matron was
more precisely announced in words by the old Scotswo-
man, Mistress Margaret, without changing her posture,
muttered some sort of answer that was wholly unintelli-
gible.

“Go your ways down to the kitchen with Wilsa, good

©
Mistress Jenny,” said Dame Ursula, who was used to all
sorts of freaks on the part of her patients or clients,

whichever they might be termed; “put the stewpan and
the porringer by the fireside, and go down below—I must
vpeak to my pretty love, Mistress Margaret, by myseli—
nd there is not a bachelor betwixt this and Bow but will
envy me the privilege.”

The attendants retired as directed, and Dame Ursula,
having availed herself of the embers of charcoal, to place
»w herself as close

her stewpan to the best advantage, dr
low, soothing,

ns she could to her patient, and began in a‘
&
\
&

iin
gee:

Zap Tote BR

 

 

ee ee

  

174 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

nnd confidential tone of voice, to inquire what ailed her
pretty flower of neighbours. hae

“ Nothing, dame,” said Margaret, somewhat pettishly,
and changing her posture so as rather to turn her back
npon the kind inquirer.

“ Nothing, lady-bird!”
“and do you use to send
this hour for nothing ?”

answered Dame Suddlechop;
for your friends out of bed at

“It was not I who sent for you, dame,” replied the
malecontent maiden.

“And who was it, then,” said Ursula; “for if I had
not been sent for, I had not been here at this time of
night, I promise you! ”

“Tt was the old Scotch fool, Jenny, who did it out of
her own head, I suppose,” said Margaret; “for she has
been stunning me these two hours about you and Mother
Redcap.”

“Me and Mother Redcap!” said Dame Ursula, “an
old fool indeed, that couples folk up so.—But come, come,
my sweet little neighbour, Jenny is no such fool after all;
she knows young folks want more and better advice than
her own, and she knows, too, where to find %t for them ;
so you must take heart of grace, my pretty maiden, and
tell me what you are moping about, and then let Dame
Ursula alone for finding out a cure.”

“ Nay, an ye be so wise, Mother Ursula,” replied the
girl, “you may guess what I ail without my telling you.”

“ Ay, ay, child,” answered the complaisant matron, “na
one can play better than I at the good old game of What
is my thought like? Now, I'll warrant that little head
pf yours is running on a new head-tire a foot higher than
those our city dames wear—or you are all for a trip to
Islington or Ware, and your father is e
consent—or ”

ross and will notTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 175

“Or you are an old fool, Dame Suddlechop,” said Mar-
garet, peevishly, “and must needs trouble yourself about
matters you know nothing of.”

“Fool as much as you will, mistress,” said Dame Ur-
sula, offended in her turn, “ but not so very many years
older than yourself, mistress.”

“Oh! we are angry, are we?” said the beauty; “and
pray, Madam Ursula, how come you, that are not se
many years older than me, to talk about such nonsense
fo me, who am so many years youn ve and who yet
have too much sense to care about head-gears and Isling-
ton?”

“Well, well, young mistress,” said the s ae e counsellor,
rising; “I perceive I can be of no use here; and me-
thinks, since you know your own matters so a better
than other people do, you might dispense with disturbing
folks at midnight to ask their advice.”

“Why, now you are angry, mother,” saic
detaining her; “this comes of your coming out at even-
I never heard you

J
A

|

{argaret,

 

tide without eating your supper
utter a cross word after you had finished your little mor-
se]l.—Here, Janet, a trencher and salt for Dame Ursula;

—and what have you in that porringer, dame |— Filthy
clammy ale, as I would live—Let Janet fling it out of
the window, or keep it for my father’s morning draught ;
and she shall bring you the pottle of sack that was set
ready for him—good man, he will never find out the dif-
erence, for ale will wash down his dusty calculations quite
ne well as wine.”

“Truly, sweetheart, I am of your opinion,”

Ursula, whose temporary displeasure vé unishe
hefore these preparations for good cheer; and so settling

loaman $¢
herself’ on the great easy-chair, with a three-legged table

a d Dame
i at once&
¥

 

  

i76 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

before her, she began to despatch, with good appetite, the
little delicate dish which she had prepared for herself.
She did not, however, fail in the duties of civility, and
earnestly, but in vain, pressed Mistress Margaret to par-
take her dainties. The damsel declined the invitation.

“At least pledge me in a glass of sack,” said Dame
Ursula ; “I have heard my grandame say, that before the
gospellers came in, the old Catholic father confessors and
their penitents always had a cup of sack together before
confession; and you are my penitent.”

“JT shall drink no sack, I am sure,” said Margaret;
“and I told you before, that if you cannot find out what
ails me, I shall never have the heart to tell it.”

So saying, she turned away from Dame Ursula once
more, and resumed her musing posture, with her hand on
her elbow, and her back, at least one shoulder, turned
towards her confidant.

“Nay, then,” said Dame Ursula, “I must exert my
skill in good earnest—You must give me this pretty
hand, and I will tell you by palmistry, as well as any
sipsy of them all, what foot it is you halt upon.”

“As if I halted on any foot at all,” said Margaret,

oS

something scornfully, but yielding her left hand to Ur-

sula, and continuing at the same time her averted posi-
tion.

“T see brave lines here,” said Ursula, “and not ill to
read neither—pleasure and wealth, and merry nights and
late motnings to my Beauty, and such an equipage ag
shall shake Whitehall. Oh, have I touched you there?
—and smile you now, my pretty one ?—for why should
not he be Lord Mayor, and go to court in his gilded
caroch, as others have done before him ?”

“ Lord Mayor? pshaw!” replied Margaret.THE FORTUNES DF NIGEL. 177

6 Ti€
And why pshaw at my Lord Mayor, sweetheart? or
perhaps you ae at my prophecy; but there is a-cross

° pete as See . > “a : ° > °
im every one’s line of life as well as in yours, darling.

CA

And what though I see a ’prentice’s flat cap in this pretty
palm, yet there is a sparkling black eye under it, hath
not its match in the ward of Farringdon- Without.”
“Whom do you mean, dame?” said Margaret, coldly
“Whom should I mean,” said Dame Ursula, “but the
prince of ’prentices, and king of good company, Jenkin
Vincent?”
“Out, woman—Jenkin Vincent?—a clown—a Cock-
ney !”
“Ay, sets the wind in that

exclaimed the indignant damsel.

Serie

quarter, Beaut quoth
the dame; “why, it has changed something’ since we
spoke together last, for then I would have sworn it blew
fairer for poor Jin aes and the poor lad dotes on you
too, and would rather see your eyes than the ae olimpse
of the sun on the great holiday on May-day.”

“T would my eyes had the power of the sun to blind
his, then,” said Margaret, “to teach the drudge his
place.”

“Nay,” said Dame Ursula, “there be some who say
that Frank Tunstall is as proper a lad as Jin Vin, and
of surety he is third cousin to a knighthood, and come of
a good house; and so mayhap you may be for north-
ward ho!”

pare. I may ”—answered Margaret, “but not with
uy father’s ’prentice—I thank you, Dame Ursula.”

“Nay, then, the devil may guess your thoughts for
me,” said Dame Ursula; “this comes of trying to shoe a
filly that is eternally wincing and shifting sround |”

“fear me, then,” said Margaret, “and mind what I

 

 

say.—T his day I dined abroad ”

VOL. XXVII. 12L78 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

aera eee aa a ; = s 7 aay ee

ie ““T can tell you where,’ answered her counsellor,—
Y ‘with your godfather the rich goldsmith —ay, you see I
know something—nay, I could tell you, an I would. with
whom, too.”

“Indeed!” said Margaret, turning suddenly round,
with an accent of strong surprise, and colouring up to the
eyes.

“With old Sir Mungo Malagrowther,” said the oracu-
lar dame—‘‘he was trimmed in my Benjamin’s shop in
his way to the city.”

“Pshaw! the frightful old mouldy skeleton!” said the
damsel.

“Indeed you say true, my dear,” replied the confidant,
—“it is a shame to him to be out of Saint Pancras’s
ne charnel-house, for I know no other place he is fit for, the
: foul-mouthed old railer. He said to my husband”

 

 

 

ii “Somewhat which signifies nothing to our purpose, I
a dare say,” interrupted Margaret. “I must speak, then.
4 —There dined with us a nobleman ”

| “A nobleman! the maiden’s mad!” said Dame Ursula.
5 “There dined with us, I say,” continued Margaret,
without regarding the interruption, “a nobleman—a
{ Scottish nobleman.”

is “Now, Our Lady keep her!” said the confidant, “she
; is quite frantic! heard ever any one of a watchmaker’s
Jaughter falling in love with a nobleman—and a Scots
sobleman, to make the matter complete, who are all as
proud as Lucifer, and as poor as Job?—A Seots noble-
man, quotha? TI had as lief you told me of a Jew pedlar.
I would have you think how all this is to end, pretty one,
before you jump in the dark.”

“That is nothing to you, Ursula—it is your assistance,”
said Mistress Margaret, “and not your advice, that I amTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. Lig
pee aS See eee, yak :

desirous to have, and you know I can make it worth y vur

while.”

CC x as Bese : - eR nMMYre > 5

“ Oh, it is-not for the sake of lucre, Mistress Marguret,”
answered the obliging dame; “but truly I would have
you listen to some advice—bethink you of your own con-

dition.’

es
La

“My father’s calling is mechanical,” said Margaret,
“but our blood is not so. I have heard my father say
that we are descended, at a distance indeed, from the
great Earls of Dalwolsey.” *

“Ay, ay,” said Dame Ursula; “even so—I never
knew a Scot of you buat was descended, as ye call it,
from some great house or other; and a piteous descent it
often is

 

and as for the distance you speak of, it is so
great as to put you out of sight of each other. Yet do
not toss your pretty head so scornfully, but tell me the
name of this lordly northern gallant, and we. will try
what can be done in the matter.”

“Tt is Lord Glenvarloch, whom they call Lord Nigel
Olifaunt,” said Margaret, in a low voice, and turning
nway to hide her blushes.

“Marry, Heaven forefend!” exclaimed Dame Suddle-
chop ; “ this is the very devil, and something worse!”

“ Tow mean you?” said the damsel, surprised at the
vivacity of her exclamation.

“Why, know ye not,” said the dame, “ what powerful
enemies he has at Court? know ye not—But blisters on

my tongue, it runs too fast for my wit—enough to say,

* The head of the ancient and distinguished house of Ramsay, and
to whom, as their chief, the individuals of that name look as their
Pesta;

os
=
a

prigin and source of gentry. Allan Ramsay, the pastoral poet, mm
5S c “

bame manner, makes
‘‘ Dalhousie, of an auld descent,

; , Vf Dame ?
My chief, my stoup, my ornament.180 — WAVERLEY NOVELS.

that you had better make your bridal-bed under a falling
house, than think of young Glenvarloch.”

“He ts unfortunate, then?” said Margaret; * I knew
it-—lI divined it—there was sorrow in his voice when he
there was a touch of misfortune

 

said even what was gay
in his melancholy smile—he had not thus clung to my
thoughts had I seen him in all the midday glare of pros-
perity.”

“Jtomances have cracked her brain!” said Dame
Ursula; “she is a castaway girl—utterly distraught—
loves a Scots lord—and likes him the better for being un-
fortunate! Well, mistress, I am sorry this is a matter I
cannot aid you in—it goes against my conscience, and it
is an affair’ above my condition, and beyond my manage-
ment ;—but I will keep your counsel.”

“ You wil! not be so base as to desert me, after having
drawn my secret from me?” said Margaret, indignantly
“if you do, I know how to have my revenge ; and if you
lo not, I will reward you well. Remember the house
your husband dwells in is my father’s property.”

“T remember it but too well, Mistress Margaret,” said
Ursula, after a moment’s reflection, “and I.would serve
you in any thing in my condition; but to meddle with
such high matters—I shall never forget poor Mistress
Turner,* my honoured. patroness, peace be with her!-—

* Mrs. Anne Turner was a dame somewhat of the occupation of
Mrs. Suddlechop in the text; that is half milliner, half procuress, and
Becret agent in all manner of proceedings. She was a trafficker in
the poisoning of Sir Thomas Overbury, for’ which so many subordinate
igents lost their lives, while, to the great scandal of justice, the Earl]
uf Somerset and his Countess were suffered to escape, upon a threat
of Somerset to make public some secret which nearly affected his
lnaster, King James. Mrs. Turner introduced into England a French
tustom of using yellow starch in getting up bands and cuffs, and, byTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 18)
she had the ill-luck to meddle in the matter of Somerset
and Overbary, and so the great earl and his lady slipt
their necks out of the collar, and left her and some half.
dozen others to suffer in their stead. I shall never forget
the sight of her standing on the scaffold with the rut
round her pretty neck, all done up with the yellow starch
which I had so often helped her to make, and that was
co soor to give place to a rough hempen cord. Such a
sight, sweetheart, will make one loth to meddle with mat-
ters that are too hot or heavy for their ha undling.”

“Out, you fool!” answered Mistress Margaret; “am
Ione to speak to you about such criminal practices as
that wretch died for? All I desire of you is, to get me
precise knowledge of what affair brings this young noble-
man to Court.’

“ And when you have his secret,” said Ursula, “ what
will it avail you, sweetheart ?—and ye would do your
errand, if you could do as much tor me.”

“ And what is it you would have of me?” said Mistress
Margaret.

Lord Coke’s orders, she appeared in that fashion at the place of execu-
tion. She was the widow of a physician, and had been eminently
beautiful, as appears from the description of her ia the poem called
Overbury’s Vision. ‘There was produced in court a parcel of dolls
or puppets belonging to this lady, some naked, some dressed, and
which she used for exhibiting fashions upon. But greatly to the
horror of the spectators, who accounted these figures to be magica?
devices, there ~was, on their being shown, “heard a crack from the
scaffold, which caused great fear, tumult, and confusion, among the

spectators and throughout the hs all, every one fearing hurt, as if the
devil had been present, and grown angry ee have his workmanship
showed to such as were not his own scholars.’’ Compare this curious
passage in the History of “King James for the First Fourteen Years,
1651, with the Aulicus Coquinarius of Dr. ree Both works are

eS eiahod in the secret History of King James182 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

+What you have been angry with me for asking be-
fore,” answered Dame Ursula. “I want to have some
light about the story of your godfather’s ghost, that is
only seen at prayers.”

“ Not for the world,” said Mistress Margaret, “will 1
be a spy on my kind godfather’s secrets—No, Ursula—
that I will never pry into, which he desires to keep
hidden. But thou knowest that I have a fortune of my
own, which must at no distant day come under my own
management—think of some other recompense.”

“Ay, that I well know,” said the counsellor—it is
that two hundred per year, with your father’s indulgence,
that makes you so wilful, sweetheart.”

“It may be so,” said Margaret Ramsay; “ meanwhile,
do you serve me truly, and here is a ring of value in
pledge, that when my fortune is in my own hand, I will
redeem the token with fifty broad pieces of gold.”

“Fifty broad pieces of gold!” repeated the dame;
‘and this ring, which is a right fair one, in token you fail
not of your word !—Well, sweetheart, if I must put my
throat in peril, I am sure I cannot risk it for a friend
more generous than you; and I would not think of more
than the pleasure of serving you, only Benjamin gets
more idle every day, and our family ”_——

“Say no more of it,” said Margaret ; “we understand
each other. And now, tell me what you know of this
young man’s affairs, which made you so unwilling to
meddle with them?”

“Of that I can say no great matter, as yet,” answered
Dame Ursula; “ only I know the most powerful among
his own countrymen are against him, and also the most
powerful at the Court here. But I will learn more of it;
for it will be a dim print that I will not read for yourTHE

 

FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 183

VU

sake, pretty Mistress Margaret. Know you where this
gallant dwells?”

“I heard by accident,” said Margaret, as if ashamed
of the minute particularity of her memory upon such an
occasion,—“ he lodges, I think—at one Christie’s—if |
mistake not—at Paul’s Wharf—a ship-chandler’s.”

“A proper lodging for a young baron!—Well, but
cheer you up, Mistress Margaret—if he has come up a

 

caterpillar, like some of his countrymen, he may cast his
slough like them, and come out a butterfly. So I drink
good-night and sweet dreams to you, in another parting
cup of sack; and you shall hear tidings of me within
four-and-twenty hours. And, once more, I commend you
to your pillow, my pearl of pearls, and Marguerite of
Marguerites ! ”

So saying, she kissed the reluctant cheek of her young
friend, or patroness, and took her departure with the light
and stealthy pace of one accustomed to accommodate her
footsteps to the purposes of despatch and secrecy.

Margaret Ramsay looked after her for some time, in
anxious silence. “I did ill,’ she at length murmured,
“to let her wring this out of me; but she is artful, bold,
and serviceable—and I think faithful—or, if not, she will
be true at least to her interest, and that I can command,
I would I had not spoken, however—I have begun a
hopeless work. For what has he said to me, to warrant
my meddling in his fortunes ?—Nothing but words of the
most ordinary import—mere tabletalk, and terms of

 

course. Yet who knows ”— she said; and then broke off,
looking at the glass the while; which, as it reflected
back a face of great beauty, probably suggested to her
mind a more favourable conclusion of the sentence than
the cared to trust her tongue withal.WAVERLEY NOVELS

CHAPTER IX.

So pitiful a thing is suitor’s state!

Most miserable man, whom wicked fate

Hath brought to Court to sue, for Had I wist,
That few have found, and many a one hath miss’d
Full little knowest thou, that hast not tried,
What hell it is, in sueing long to bide:

To lose good days, that might be better spent;
To waste long nights in pensive discontent;

To speed to-day, to be put back to-morrow;

To feed on hope, to pine with fear and sorrow;
To have thy Prince’s grace, yet want her Peers’;
Tio have thy asking, yet wait many years;

To fret thy soul with crosses and with cares—
To eat thy heart through comfo1tless despairs.
To fawn, to crouch, to wait, to ride, to run,

To spend, to give, to want, to be undone.

MoTHER HUBBARD’S TALR.

On the morning of the day on which George Heriot
had prepared to escort the young Lord of Glenvarloch te
the Court at Whitehall, it may be reasonably supposed
that the young man, whose fortunes were likely to depend
on this cast, felt himself more than usually anxious. He
rose early, made his toilette with uncommon care, and,
being enabled, by the generosity of his more plebeian
countryman, to set out a very handsome person to the
best advantage, he obtained a momentary approbation
trom himself as he glanced at the mirror, and a loud and
tistinct plaudit from his landlady, who declared at once,
that, in her judgment, he would take the wind out of theTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 189

sail cf every gallant in the presence—so much had she
been able to enrich her discourse with the metaphors of
those with whom her husband dealt,

At the appointed hour, the barge of Master George
Heriot arrived, handsomely manned and appointed, having
a tilt, with his own cipher, and the arms of his company
painted thereupon.

Lhe young Lord of Glenvarloch received the friend,
who had evinced such disinterested attachment, with the
kind courtesy which well became him.

Master Heriot then made him acquainted with the
bounty of his Sovereign; which he paid over to his
young friend, declining what he had himself formerly ad-
vanced to him. Nigel felt all the gratitude which the
citizen’s disinterested friendship had deserved, and was
not wanting in expressing it suitably.

Yet, as the young and high-born nobleman embarked
+0 go to the presence of his Prince, under the patronage
of one whose best, or most distinguished qualification, was
his being an eminent member of the Goldsmiths’ Incor-
poration, he felt a little surprised, if not abashed, at his
own situation; and Richie Moniplies, as he stepped over
the gangway to take his place forward in the boat, could
not help muttering—‘“It was a changed day hetwixt
Master Heriot and his honest father in the Kremes ;—
but, doubtless, there was a difference between clinking on
gold and silver, and clattering upon pewter.”

On they glided, by the assistance of the oars of four
stout watermen, along the Thames, which then served for
the principal high-road betwixt London and Westminster ;
for few ventured on horseback through the narrow and
erowded streets of the city, and coaches were. then a
luxury reserved only for the higher nobility, and to which&
ie
=
e
*

erp aR TR) oe

186 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

no citizen, whatever was his wealth, presumed to aspire.
The beauty of the banks, especially on the northern side,
where the gardens of the nobility descended from theix
hotels, in many places, down to the water’s edge, was
pointed out to Nigel by his kind conductor, and was
pointed out in vain. ‘The mind of the young Lord of
Glenvarloch was filled with anticipations, not the most
pleasant, concerning the manner in which he was likely
to be received by that monarch, in whose behalf his
family had been nearly reduced to ruin; and he yas,
with the usual mental anxiety of those in such a situa-
tion, framing tmaginary questions from the King, and
over-toiling his spirit in devising answers to them.

His conductor saw the labour of Nigel’s mind, and
avoided increasing it by farther conversation ; so that,
when he had explained to him briefly the ceremonies
observed at Court on such occasions of presentation, the
rest of their voyage was performed in silence.

They landed at Whitehall Stairs, and entered the
Palace after announcing their names,—the guards paying
to Lord Glenvarloch the respect and honours due to his
rank.

The young man’s heart beat high and thick within him
as he came into the royal apartments. His education
abroad, conducted, as it had been, on a narrow ard
limited scale, had given. him but imperfect ideas of the
grandeur of a Court; and the philosophical reflections
which taught him to set ceremonial and exterior splen-
dour at defiance, proved, like other maxims of mere phi-
losophy, ineffectual, at the moment they were weighed
against the impression naturally made on the mind of an
inexperienced youth, by the unusual magnificence of the

secne. The splendid apartments thrsugh which theyTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 187

passed, the rich apparel of the grooms, guards, and do-
mestics in waiting, and the ceremonial attending their
passage®through the long suite of apartments, had some-
thing in it, trifling and commonplace as it might appear
to practised courtiers, embarrassing, and even alarming,
to one, who went through these forms for the first time,
and who was doubtful what sort of reception was to
accompany his first appearance before his Sovereign.

Heriot, in anxious attention to save his young friend
from any momentary awkwardness, had taken care to give
the necessary password to the warders, grooms-of the
chambers, ushers, or by whatever name they were desig-
nated; so they passed on without interruption.

In this manner they passed several anterooms, filled
chiefly with guards, attendants of the Court, and their
acquaintances, male and female, who, dressed in their
best apparel, and with eyes rounded by eager curiosity to
make the most of their opportunity, stood, with beseeming
modesty, ranked against the wall, in a manner which
indicated that they were spectators, not performers, in
the courtly exhibition.

Through these exterior apartments, Lord Glenvarloch
and his city friend advanced into a large and splendid
withdrawing-room, communicating with the presence-
chamber, into which anteroom were admitted those only,
who, from birth, their posts in the state or household, or
by the particular sae of the King, had right to attend
the Court, as men entitled to pay their respects to their
Sovereign.

Amid this favoured and selected company, Nigel
observed Sir Mungo Mala agrowther, who, avoie 2d and
discountenanced by those who knew how low he stvod
in Court interest and favour, was but too happy in the188 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

ppportunity of hooking himself upon a person of Lord
Glenvarloch’s rank, who was, as yet, so inexperienced, as
to feel it difficult to shake off an intruder. -

The knight forthwith framed his grim features toa
vhastly smile, and, after.a preliminary and patronizing
nod to George Heriot, accompanied with an aristocratic
wave of the hand, which intimated at once superiority
and protection, he laid aside altogether the honest citizen,
to whom he owed many a dinner, to attach himself exclu-
sively to the young lord, although he suspected he might
be occasionally in the predicament of needing one as much
as himself. And even the notice of this original, singular
and unamiable as he was, was not entirely indifferent to
the Lord Glenvarloch, since the absolute and somewhat
constrained silence of his good friend Heriot, which left
him at liberty to retire painfully to his own agitating
reflections, was now relieved; while, on the other hand,
he could not help feeling interest in the sharp and sar
castic information poured upon him by an observant,
though discontented courtier, to whom a patient auditor,
and he a man of title and rank, was as much a prize, as
his acute and communicative disposition rendered him an
entertaining companion to Nigel Olifaunt. Heriot, in the
meantime, neglected by Sir Mungo, and avoiding every
attempt by which the grateful politeness of Lord Glen-
varloch strove to bring him into the conversation, stood
; but
whether excited by Sir Mungo’s wit, or arising at his

by, with a kind of half-smile on his countenance

expense, did not exactly appear.

Tn the meantime, the trio occupied a nook of the ante-
room, next to the door of the presence-chamber, which
was not yet thrown open, when Maxwell, with his rod of
pflice, came bustling into the apartment, where most men,THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 189

excepting those of high rank, made way for him. He
stopped beside the party in which we are interested,
looked for a moment at the young Scots nobleman, then
made a slight obeisance to. Heriot, and lastly, addressing
sir Mungo Malagrowther, began a hurried complaint to
him of the misbehaviour of the gentlemen-pensioners and
warders, who suffered all sort of citizens, suitors, and
scriveners, to sneak into the outer apartments, without
either respect or decency.—“ The . English,” he said,
“were scandalized, for such a thing durst not be at-
tempted in the Queen’s days. In her time, there was
then the court-yard for the mobility, and the apartments
for the nobility ; and it reflects on your place, Sir Mungo,”
he added, “belonging to the household as you do, that
such things should not be better ordered.”

Here Sir Mungo, afflicted, as was frequently the case
on such occasions, with one of his usual fits of deafness,
answered, “It was no wonder the mobility used freedoms,
when those whom they saw in office were so little better
in blood and havings than themselves.”

“You are right, sir—quite right,” said Maxwell, put-
ting his hand on the tarnished embroidery on the old
knight’s sleeve,—“ when such fellows see men in office
dressed in cast-off suits, like paltry stage-players, it is ne
wonder the court is thronged with intruders.”

“Were you lauding the taste of my embroidery, Maister
Maxwell?” answered the knight, who apparently inter-
preted the deputy-chamberlain’s meaning rather from his
action than his words ;—“ it is of an ancient and liberal
pattern, having been made by your mother’s father,
auld James Stitchell, a master-fashioner of honest re-
pute, in Merlin’s Wynd, whom I made a point ta
employ, as I am now happy to remember seeing. yourape
Wate

eee

 

 

WAVERLEY NOVELS.

 

i90

father thought fit to intermarry with sic a person’s
faughter.” *

Maxwell looked stern; but, conscious there was nothing
to be got of Sir Mungo in the way of amends, and that
prosecuting the quarrel with such an adversary would
only render him ridiculous, and make public a mis:
alliance of which he had no reason to be proud, he cov-
ered his resentment with a sneer; and, expressing his
reoret that Sir Mungo was become too deaf to understand
or attend to what was said to him, walked on, and planted
himself beside the folding-doors of the presence-chamber,
at which he was to perform the duty of deputy-chamber-
lain, or usher, so soon as they should be opened.

“The door of the presence is about to open,” said the
goldsmith, in a whisper, to his young friend ; “ my con-
dition permits me to go no farther with you. Fail not to
present yourself boldly, according to your birth, and offer
your Supplication ; which the King will not refuse to ac
cept, and, as I hope, to consider favourably.”

As he spoke, the door of the presence-chamber opened
accordingly, and, as is usual on such occasions, the cour-
tiers began to advance towards it, and to enter in a slow,
but continuous and uninterrupted stream.

As Nigel presented himself in his turn at the entrance,
and mentioned his name and title, Maxwell seemed to
hesitate. “You are not known to any one,” he said.
“Tt is my duty to suffer no one to pass to the presence,
my lord, whose face is unknown to me, unless upon the
word of a responsible person.”

“T came with Master George Heriot,” said Nigel, im
some embarrassment at this unexpected interruption.

“Master Heriot’s name will pass current: for. much

* Sec Note, p. 151. Sir Mungo Malagrowther.THE FORTUNES OF NIGEY. 191

gold and silver, my lord,” replied Maxwell. with «a civil
sneer, “but not fer birth and rank. I am compelled by
my office to be peremptory.—The entrance is impeded—
I am much concerned to say it—your lordship must stand
back.”

“What is the matter?” said an old Scottish nobleman,
who had been speaking with George Heriot, after he had
separated from Nigel, and who now came forward, observ-
ing the altercation betwixt the latter and Maxwell.

“It is only Master Deputy-Chamberlain Maxwell,”
said Sir Mungo Malagrowther, “ expressing his joy to see
Lord Glenvarloch at Court, whose father gave him his
office

for your lordship kens my imperfection.” A subdued

 

at least I think he is speaking to that purport—

laugh, such as the situation permitted, passed round
amongst those who heard this specimen of Sir Mungo’s
sarcastic temper. but the old nobleman stepped still
more forward, saying,—* What !—the son of my gallant
old opponent, Ochtred Olitaunt ?—I will introduce him to
the presence myself.”

So saying, he took Nigel by the arm, without farther
eeremony, and was about to lead him forward, when
Maxwell, still keeping his rod across the door, said, but
with hesitation and embarrassment,—* My lord, this gen-
tleman is not known, and I have orders. to be scrupu-
lous.”

“ Tutti-taiti, man,” said the old lord, “ I will be answer-
able he is his father’s son, from the cut of his eyebrow—
and thou, Maxwell, knew’st his father well enough to
have spared thy scruples. Let us pass, man.” So say-
ing, he put aside the deputy-chamberlain’s rod, and en-
tered the presence-7vom, still holding the young nobleman

by the arm.192 WAVERLEY NOVELS

“Why, I must know you, man,” he said—“I must
know you. I knew your father well, man, and I have
broke a lance and crossed a blade with him; and it is to
my credit that I am living to brag of it. He was king’s-
man, and I was queen’s-man, during the Douglas wars—
young fellows both, that feared neither fire nor steel ; and
we had some old feudal quarrels besides, that had come
down from father to son, with our seal-rings, two-handed
broad-swords, and plate-coats, and the crests on our bur-
gonets.” :

“Too loud, my Lord of Huntinglen,” whispered a gen-
tleman of the chamber,—“ The King! the King!”

The old Earl (for such he proved) took the hint, and
was silent; and James, advancing from a side- -door, re-
ceived in succession the compliments of strangers, while
a little group of favourite courtiers, or officers of the
household, stood around him, to whom he addressed him-
self from time to time. Some more pains had been
bestowed on his toilette than upon the occasion when
we first presented the monarch to our readers; but there
was a natural awkwardness about his figure which pre-
vented his clothes from sitting handsomely, and the
prudence or timidity of his disposition had made him
adopt the custom, already noticed, of we: aring a dress so
thickly quilted as might withstand the stroke of a dagger, .
which added an ungainly stiffness to his whole appear-
ance, contrasting oddly with the frivolous, ungraceful, and
fidgeting motions with which he accompanied his conyer-
sation. And yet, though the King’s deportment was
very undignified, he had a manner so kind, familiar, and
good-humoured, was so little apt to veil over or conceal
his own foibles, and had so much indulgence and sympa-
thy for those of others, that his address, jomed to hisTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 193

learning, and a certain proportion of shrewd mother-wit,
failed not to make a favourable impression on those who
approached his person.

When the Earl of Huntinglen had presented Nigel to
his Sovereign, a ceremony which the good peer took
upon himself, the King received the young lord very
graciously, and observed to his introducer, that he “was
fain fo see them twa stand side by side; for I trow, my
Lord Huntinglen,’ continued he, “ your ancestors, ay, and
e’en your lordship’s self and this. lad’s father, have stood
front to front at the sword’s point, and that is a worse
posture.”

“Until your Majesty,” said Lord Huntinglen, “made
Lord Ochtred and me eross palms, upon the memorable
day when your Majesty feasted all the nobles that were
at feud together, and made them join hands in your

 

presence ”
“TI mind it weel,” said the King; “I mind it weel—it

3 22)
was a blessed day, being the nineteen of September, of

 

all days in the year—and it was a blithe sport to see how
some of the carles girned as they clapped loofs together.
By my saul, I thought some of them, mair. special the
Hieland chiels, wad have broken out in our own presence ;
but we caused them to march hand in hand to the Cross,
ourselves leading the way, and there drink a blithe cup
of kindness with ilk other, to the stanching of feud, and
perpetuation of amity.. Auld John Anderson was Pro-
vost that year—the carle grat for joy, and the Bailies
and Councillors danced bare-headed in our presence like
five-year-auld colts, for very triumph.”

“Tt was indeed a happy day,” said Lord Huntinglen,
«“ and will not be forgotten in the history of your Majesty’s
reign.”

VOL. XXVII. 13194 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

“TY would not that it were, my lord,” replied the Mon-
arech—.“I would not that it were pretermitted in our
annals. Ay, ay—Beati pacific. My English lieges
here may weel make much of me, for I would have them
to know, they have gotten the only peaceable man that |
ever came of my family. If James with the Fiery Face
had come amongst you,” he said, looking round him, “or
my great grandsire, of Flodden memory !”

“ We should have sent him back to the north again,”

 

 

whispered one English nobleman.

“ At least,” said another, in the same inaudible tone,
“we should have had a man to our sovereign, though he |
were but a Scotsman.”

“ And now, my young springald,” said the King to
Lord Glenvarloch, “where have you been spending your
2 ealf-time ?”
| “ At Leyden, of late, may it please your Majesty,”
answered Lord Nigel.

“ Aha! a scholar,” said the King; “and, by my saul,
a modest and ingenuous youth, that hath not forgotten

reaemensekarey ee

how to blush, like most of our travelled Monsieurs. We
will treat him conformably.”
Then drawing himself up, coughing slightly, and look-

Fae ea Ts:

ing around him with the conscious importance of superior
learning, while all the courtiers who understood, or unders-
stood not, Latin, pressed eagerly forward to listen, the
sapient monarch prosecuted his inquiries as follows :—

“Hem! hem! Salve bis, quaterque salve, Glenvarloch-"
des noster! Nuperumne ab Lugduno Batavorum Brt-
. tanniam rediisti !”

Lhe young nobleman replied, bowing low—

“Imo, Rex augustissime—biennium fere apud Lrg
dunenses moratus sum.”THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 195

James proceeded—

. + ere. Oba ; i
= Pienntun dicts ? bene, bene, optume factun

Ulite Ft

um est—Non

uno die. gu 3

ak Ee : ° 772 . . =
; ee a pT ss Sey
{HON Que unt,—intelligrstt, Domine Clenvari loch-
‘ :
2 2 "99
jensas 2 Aha!

a. hy
Nigel Te plied d Dy a reverent bow, and the Kine, turnine
J

to a behind him, said—

Adole SCeNS quidem ing

9/9 VUE IIVORUIOUM NILABA
C7 (2 { Ue j ClHUtG ahs ue J

; tue us 2 be} gt P LG
”> rm “ a 7 7 ° c ®
rS. Then resumed his learned queries. “Zt oudd

1a prada D 200 T/7, . s 7 e7
hodie Lugdunenses loquuntur—Vossius vester nihilne
Aaa Senna neat. eR ha ea ane Vic
ROVE SCTUPSUL nihil cerlé, quo id do
edidit.

eer ee a
|

< 7 y gs es Feces Ree 89 1 AT?

a Valet ae ossius. frex benevole, replied Nigel,
f som ants CCA AIT : ene RL ee ee T- yaa
‘ast senex veneratissumus LNRMUM AGit, 72 fallor, SEDLUA=

v ae A

ne

“ Virum, mehercle, vix tam grandevum crediderim,”
replied the monarch. “ Hé Vorstius zste 2—Arminit im-
probit successor eque ac sectator—Herosne adhuc, ut eum
Homero loquar, Zwo¢ éo7t kal ext yGovt dépxwv at

Nigel, by good fortune, remembered that Vorstius, the
divine last mentioned in his Majesty’s queries about the
state of Dutch literature, had been engaged in a personal
controversy with James, in which the King had taken so
deep an interest, at length to hint in his public corre-
spondence with the » United States, that they would do well

1

] lay « t tar th r aq harag
to apply the secular arm to stop the progress of heresy

| ak thine pat aecnm ae nero cs
by violent measures against the frolessors person—a

demand which their Mighty Mightinesses’ principles of
universal toleration imnducec
some difficulty. Knowing ai
though a courtier, of only five minutes’ standi
dress enough to reply— e
Vivum quidem, haud diu est, hominem videbam-~

vegere autem quis dicat qui suo Juiminious €BR. Repco SEN

ine a Sa

SEN IR ESR Ben

  

SSS Aap eine

  

WAVERLEY NOVELS.

lua, Rex magne, jamdudum pronus jacet, et prostra-
iat? =

This last tribute to his polemical powers completed
James’s happiness, which the triumph of exhibiting his
erudition had already raised to a considerable height.

He rubbed his hands, snapped his fingers, fidgeted,

 

chuckled, exclaimed—*“ Huge ! belle ! optime/” and turn-
ing to the Bishops of Exeter and Oxford, who stood
behind him, he said,—‘ Ye see, my lords, no bad speci-

]
A

men otf our Scottish Latinity, with which language we

would all our subjects of E ngland were as well imbued
as this, and other youths of honourable birth, in our auld
kingdom ; also, we keep the. genuine and Roman pronun-
ciation, like other learned nations on the continent, sae
that we hold communing with any scholar in the uni-
verse, who can but ae the Latin tongue; whereas ye,
our learned subjects of England, have introduced into
your universities, pe most learned, a fashion-of
pronouncing like unto the ‘nippit foot and clippit foot’ of
the bride in the fairy tale, whilk manner of speech (take
it not amiss that I be round with you) can be understood
by no nation on earth savir 1g yourselves ; whereby Latin,
guoad Anglos, ceaseth to be communis lingua, the gen-
eral dragoman, or interpreter, between all the wise men
wf the earth.”

The Bishop of Exeter bowed, as in acquiescence to
the royal censure; but he of Oxford stood upright, as
mindful over what ubices his see extended, and ag being
equally willing to become food for fagots in defence of th

* Lest any lady or gentleman should suspect there is aught of mys-
fery concealed under the sentences printed in Italics
pleased to understand, that Roy contain only a few
Latin phrases, relating to the state of lette

, they will be
commonplace
rs in Holland, which neither
teserve, nor would feonck. a literal translationTHE FORTUNE:

AS ee pr -
¢ t Yr ant { >
La nity Or LHe universitv AQ tor nv arth 1 ae anes °
v INIVeEl a » ASD I any art cle oO] LIS reli-

pious creed.

The

 

tA, nranonodoad Pee ges Nhe
late, proceeded to question
‘ } y y cc TK rT
ular tongue,—“ Weel, n
“7 : ;
and what make you so {

nobleman, kneeling on o:
7 ee }
he added, “this my hum
Tl ; ; f°.
-he presenting of a

oO
4 ©

 

cc UA Soe ees ty Dre 2 Say ea sate
And 18 it even so, mans” said he; “and can no
inole ma vara a+ bi . try +h Pa74 5 oa +f" 4] » a >» 1WVWAr
aimpie Man, were il Out Tor tne rarity ot the case, ever

p irae scotiand, excepting ex proposito—on set

ereion? Itis

c

4 - ra TNA 1; b ré had woal } toh
out three days syne that we had weel-nigh
lost our life, and put three kingdoms into ¢

the over-haste o yeasant, to thrust a

}
I

 

be to me.—

 

god, asiMRI

7

Teanga

arincmblbmaaiekaad

 

ey

 

  
 
   
   
  
   
    
    
    
  
   
   
 
       
   

198 WAVERLEY NOVELS

1

to turn your neb northward as soon as ye like, and settle
yoursell for a while at St. Andrews, and we will be 1 right
} ;

glad to hear that you prosper in your studies.—Jncum-
bite remis fortiter.”
While the King spoke thus, he held the petition of

the young lord carelessly, like one who only delayed till

the supplicant’s back was turned, to throw it away, or at
least lay it aside to be no more looked at. The peti-

tioner, who read this in his cold and indifferent looks, and

in the manner in which he twisted and crumpled together
the paper, arose with a bitter sense of anger and disap
pointment, made a profound obeisance, and was about to
retire pad But Lord Huntinelen, who stood by him,

checked his intention by an almost impe ‘ceptible touch
Of v

y

upon the aH rt of his cloak, and Nigel, taking the hint,
retreated only a few steps from the royal presence, and
then made a pause. fn the meantime, Lord Huntinglen

»}
col

kneeled before James, in his turn, and said— “ May it

plea ise your Majesty to remember, that upon one certain

occasion you did promise to grant. me a boon every year
f your sacred life ?

“JT mind it weel, man,” answered James, “I mind it

19

* The credit of having rescued James I. from the dagger of Alex-
ander Ruthven, is here fictitiously ascribed to an

n imaginary Lord
Huntinglen. tk reality, as may be read in every history, his pre-
Berver was John Ramsay, afterwards created Earl of Holderness, who

stabbed the younger Ruthven with his dagger while he was struggling
with the King. Sir Anthony Weldon informs us, that, upon the an-
nual return of the day, the King’s deuverance was commemorated by
an anniversary feast. The time was the fifth of August, “upon
which,’’? proceeds the satirical his orian, ‘Sir John Ramsay, for his
cood service in that pres rvation, was the principal Suest, and so did

{
ihe King grant him any boon he would ask that day. But he had

such limitation made to his askine as made his suit as un table

as the action for which he asked it was unserviceable to has

LliiS,

ing 6weel, and 200

the fause traito1
throat, and. dri
We did ¢
sary,) |

 

 

ation, promise
year; wl
sion of our roy
always and con

should be suc

  

boned
°

reasonao

 

 

and royal nat

   

ence fcspied imcenec a

   
  
  
 
 
 
 
  
  
  
 
 
    
 
  
  
   
   
   
  
   
   
   
   
  

  

WAVERLEY NOVELS.

and Baby Charles cannot abide him—neither can your
own son, my lord; and so, methinks, he had better go
down to Scotland before he comes to ill luck by
them.”

“My son, an it please your Majesty, so far as he is

concerned, shall not direct my doings,” said the Earl,
“nor any wild-headed young man of them all.”

“Why, neither shall they mine,” replied the Monarch ;
“by my father’s saul, none of them all shall play Rex
with me—I will do what I will, and what I ought, like a
free King.” .

“Your Majesty will then grant me my boon?” said
the Lord Huntinglen.

“Ay, marry will I—marry will I,” said the King;
“but follow me this way, man, where we may be more
private.”

He led Lord Huntinglen with rather a hurried step
through the courtiers, all of whom gazed earnestly on
this unwonted scene, as is the fashion of all courts on sim-
ilar occasions. ‘The King passed into a little cabinet, and

¥ 7
4
A

bade, in the first moment, Lord Huntinglen lock or bar

the door; but countermanded his direction in the next,
saying,— No, no, no—bread o’ life, man, I am a free
King—will do what I will and what I should—I am 7Uus-
tus et tenax propositt, man—nevertheless, keep by the
door, Lord Huntinglen, in case Steenie should come in
with his mad humour.”

“Oh, my poor master!” groaned the Earl of Hunt-
inglen. “When you were in your own cold country,
you had warmer blood in your veins.”

The King hastily looked over the petition or memorial,
every now and then glancing his eye towards the door,

and then sinking it hastily on the paper, ashamed thatTt a 1 :
oid Hun ingle n, whom he respecte 1. should suspect him

 

of timidity.
< To erant
hasty perusal,

was represent

 

before. Al

  

due from us, in order
But then, Hu
and why burd

  
   

woodland ? let
Steenie has
cellor—it is

 

twice as much
hills and heugh
keen after.”

All this while the

 

e

ot ant It C iteqne Tara ve 17 ATTA
apartment in a piteous State or uncertail

 

es beet Ls een Rinne 1%

nade more ridiculous by his shambling ci
: | -

managing | fas
eP
. . é {> or
occasions of of

 

fastened the lower |
Lord Huntinglen listened with great composure, ana

J CC = 7
answered, “ An it

Bi ee ton
D0 COVELE(

12

answer yielded by
Ty

 

rd forbid that I should

yard—‘ The Lox
9

 

tance of my fathers unto thee.

“ Ey, my lord—ey, my lord!” ejactsceuntatemiaceas

  

202 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

a ne > ain aes
all the colour mounted both to his cheek and nose; “1
hope ye mean not to teach me divinity? Ye need not
iP

fear, my lord, that I will shun to-do justice to every man;

v1

and since your lordship will give me no help to take
up this in a more peaceful manner—whilk, methinks,
would be better for the young man, as I said before,—
why—-since it maun be so—’sdeath, I am a free King,
man, and he shall have his money, and redeem his land,
and make a kirk and a miln of it, an he will.” So saying,
he hastily wrote an order on the Scottish Exchequer for
the sum in question, and then added, “ How they are to
pay it, I see not; but I warrant he will find money on
the order among the goldsmiths, who can find it for every
one but me.—And now you see, my Lord of Huntinglen,
that IT am neither an untrue man, to deny you the boon
whilk I became bound for, nor an Ahab, to covet
Naboth’s vineyard; nor a mere nose-of-wax,- to be
twisted this way and that, by favourites and counsellors
at their pleasure. I think you will grant now that I am
none of those?”

“You are my own native and noble Prince,” said
Huntinglen, as he knelt to kiss the royal hand—“ just
and generous, whenever you listen to the workings of
your own heart.”

“ Ay, ay,” said the King, laughing good-naturedly, as
he raised~ his faithful servant from the ground, “that is
what ye all say when I do any thing to please ye. There
—there, take the sign-manual, and away with you, and
this young fellow. I wonder Steenie and Baby Charles
have not broken in on us before now.”

Lord Huntinglen hastened from the cabinet, foreseeing
& scene at which he was unwilline to be present, but
which sometimes occurred when James roused himself sofar as to exert his own free
much, in spite of that

   

4

as he ealle

    
  
  
    

1

 

resembl:
that with
martyr S

F

a

that Jame

a eee Sees aes Stee age pein
of such a witness must have occasioned, the Earl left the

 

hastily Sous
into the embra

(fo

general gaze of
him the notice

 

and, taking him by the arm, without speaking,

    

out of the p= a
RP RET Serger Se ate
> ue . Pecy a

Aptian

 

 

 

Pa oe

BO4 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

both your dinner; for we must have some conversation
together.”

They both followed the earl without ba ts and
were in the second anteroom when the important annun-
ciation of the ushers, and the hasty murmur with which
all made ample way as the company repeated to each
other,—“ The Duke—the Duke!” made them aware of
the approach of the omnipotent favourite.

He entered, that unhappy minion of court favour, sump-
tuously dressed in the picturesque attire which will live

for ever on the canvas of Vandyke, and which marks so

well the proud age, when aristocracy, though undermined
and nodding to its fall, still, by a show and profuse
expense, endeavoured to assert its paramount superiority
over the inferior orders. The handsome and commanding
countenance, stately form, and graceful action and man-
ners of the Duke of Buckingham, made him become that
picturesque dress beyond any man of his time. At
present, however, his countenance seemed discomposed,
his dress a little more disordered than became the place,
his step hasty, and his voice imperatiy

All marked the angry spot upon his brow, and bore
back so suddenly to make way for him, that the Earl of
Huntinglen, who affected no extraordinary haste on the
occasion, with his companions, who could not, if they
would, have decently left him, remained as it were by
themselves in the middle of the room, and in the very
path of the angry favourite. He touched his cap sternly

he looked on Huntinglen, but unbonneted to Heriot,
and sunk his beaver, with its. shadowy plume, as low as
the floor, with a profound air of mock respect. In res
turning his greeting, which he did simply and unaffeet-
vdly, the citizen only said,— Too much courtesy, my
lord duke, is often the reverse of kindness.”«“ I orev hin]
rieve you s think so. Master Heriot”
i eve you hould think so, Master Heriot,” an-
swered the Duke: “I onlv meant. ] ]
ve he Duke; “I only meant, by my homage
claim your protection, sir—your patrc Y
é your protection, sir—your patronage. You are

become, I understand. a solic

or ot SUItS—a, promcter—
an unde fe ah a BR RE Ae ae a E
lertaker—a fautor of court suitors of merit ee

quality, who chance to be penn

will bear you out in your new boast.”

“They Le bear me the farther, my lord duke,” an-
swered t 2 goldsmith, “that my boast is but small.”

“Oh, you do yourself less than justice, my good Master
Heriot,” eataiued the Duke, in the same tone of irony;

* you have a ma

Edinbureh ti

 

he goodness to prefer me to

 

Be cad Te ry Alaa pad ou, Se Ts
emphasis. “ My <e, I desire you to know Nigel
Olifaunt, Lord Glenvarloch, representative of one of the

71 Qo , e ¥
most ancient and powerful baronial house

oo Be I ae you to his ¢

 

te of “Brook ce db

h Af) ae ey oo Art at + ah thn nt Q
Lord Gle NY Ic ck nh seorniully, a COurte’ y which dak ore

returned diy and with restrained indig1

k Ty ‘ Aly \+} ar th ¢ 291d th ¢ T) k » atte € MAY yarrt C
now each other, then,’ said the Duke, atter a moments
pause, and as if he had seen something in the young

nobleman which merited more serious notice

bitter raillery w ith which he had co

 

             

his hich and irascible ambr-

* Buckingham, who had a frankness 1n
to bid defiance to those by
vince of Tipperary

: ; ; , whom he was
tion, was always ready whom he was

bwarted or opposed. He aspired

s
r

to be createdPte RR ND Te ett

lai Fa tae Pte
eee: a yams, 5

RR

i

PPP Ce cera

— ‘
“Sree ae

—Asposaahssbiaiecnyachiiin- arbwianaathns ei

   
 
 
   
   
  
  
     
   
 
    
  
   
  
   
 
 

206 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

“T thank you for your plainness, my lord duke,” replied
Nigel; “an open enemy is better than a hollow friend.”

“For you, my Lord Huntinglen,” said the Duke, “me-
thinks you have but now overstepped the limits of the
indulgence pemeuiind to you, as the father of the Prince's
friend, and my own.”

“ By my word, my lord duke,” replied the farl, “ it is
vasy for any one to outstep boundaries of the existence of
which he is not aware. It is neither to secure my pro-
tection nor approbation, that my son keeps such exalted
company.”

ah, BD lord, we know you and indulge you,” said the
Duke; “you are one of those who presume for a life-

‘long upon the merit of one good action.”

“In faith, my lord, and if it be so,” said the old Earl,
“T have at least the advantage of such as presume more
than I do, without having done any action of merit what-
ever. But I mean not to quarrel with you, my lord—we
can neither be friends nor enemies s—you have your path,
and I have mine.”

Buckingham only replied by throwing on his bonnet,
and shaking its lofty plume with a careless and scornful

in Ireland, and Lord High Constable of England. Coventry, then
Lord Keeper, opposed what -seemed such an unreasonable extent of
power as was annexed to the office of Constable.. On this opposition,
according to Sir Anthony Weldon, “the Duke peremptorily accosted
Coventry, ‘ Who made you Lord Keeper, Coventry?’ He replied, * The
King.’ Buckingham replied, ‘It’s false; *twas-I did make you, and
you shall know that I, who made you, can, and will. ane a :
Coventry thus answered him, ‘ Did I conceive that I held my place by
your favour, I would presently unmake myself, by renderi Ing tp the
Beals to his Majesty.” Then Bucki ngham, in a scorn and fury, lune
from him, saying, ‘You shall not keep it long:’ and surely. had not
Felton prevented him, he had made good his word."’— WELDON’s
Yourt of King James and Charles.OF NiGRk)

Rihso

q

toss of the head. They parted

onwards through the apart
the palace and re
embarked on boardee ea 1

an aeseaeyaee

 

be FE rae
5 EOS GER

2 arabes papasiemene ect

WAVERLEY NOVELS.

CHAPTER: X.

Bid not thy fortune troll upon the wheels

Of yonder dancing cubes of mottled bone;

And drown it not, like E Sypt’s royal harlot.
Dissolving her rich pearl in the brimm/’d wine-e up.
These are the arts, Lothario, which shrink acres
Into brief yards—bring sterling pounds to farthings,
Credit to infamy; and the poor gull,

Who might have lived an honour’d, easy life,

To ruin, and an unregarded grave. THE CHANGES.

WHEN they were fairly embarked on the Thames, the
Earl took from his pocket the Supplication, and pointing
rut to George Heriot the royal warrant endorsed thereon,
asked him if it were in due and regular form? The
worthy citizen hastily read it over, thrust forth his hand
as if to congratulate the Lord Glenvarloch, then checked
himself; pulled out his barnacles. (a present from old
David Ramsay,) and again perused the warrant with the
most business-like and critical attention. “Tt is strictly
correct and formal,” he said, looking to the Earl of Hun-
tinglen ; “and I sincerely oe ot at

aL aban nothing of its formality.” said the Earl; “the

King understands business we Il, ee if he does not prae-

tise it often, it is only because indolence obscures parts
which are naturally well qualified for the discharge of
affairs. But what is next to be done for our young friend,
Master Heriot? You know how I am circumstanced,

Scottish lords living at the English Court have seldoman J eee eceeee he gt }
command of money; yet, unless a sum can be present

raised on t

us warrant. matters stand] : 1 “7
arrant, matte standing as vou hastily

kinted to me, the mortgage, wadset, or whatever it
ea'led, will be foreclosed |

&“ It is
“ there
not raisc
lawyers

“My

+7 Re gt DS ese ee ae.
my cause so undeservedly, so une:
66 ;

  

already done too much where not
‘ Peace, man, peace,” said Lord

old Heriot and I puzzle this sce

ee ye Ee Tes >
open—hark to him!
CoN 99 oR fe ( Dal eC VES
My lord,” said the citizen, “the Duke of Buckingham
q qgAPA : vie nitx mMmoanaw } y a } WY Y
sneers at our city money-bags; yet they can sometimes

remedy.”

¢ Seppo A She es eee ON eA Inagdy »? ast
at partly hinted to Lord Glenvarioch aiready, said

Heriot, “ that
upon such a

 

my credit th
lender, he must come in the shoes of the creditor to whom
he advances payment.”

“Come in his shoes,
have boots or shoes to do with tl
friend ?”

“Tt is a law ph
made me pick up a few

“ Ay, and of bet

VOL. XxVII

 

14Seen gfite eae

Rae cba

i a ii ew

  
  
  
 
 
   
   
    
 
     
  
   
   
  
   
    
      
  
    
 
 
    
 
  
 
 
    
     
    

210 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

George,” replied Lord Hu ntinglen; “but what means
ir”

“Simply this,” resumed the citizen; “that the lender
of this money will transact with the holder of the morte
gage, or wadset, over the estate of Glenvarloch, and
obtain from him such a conveyance to his right as shall
leave the lands pledged for the debt, in case the warrant!
upon the Scottish Exchequer should prove unproductive.
I fear, in this uncertainty of public ‘credit, ce without
some such counter security, it will be very difficult to find
69 large a sum.”

“Ho la!” said the Earl of Hunt tinglen, “halt there;
a thought strikes me.—What if the new creditor should
admire the estate as a huntir field, as much as my Lord
Grace of Buckingham seems to do, and shot iid wish to
kill a buck there in the summer season? It seems to me,
that on your plan, Master George, our new friend will be
as well entitled to block Lord GQ] lenvarloch out of his
inheritance as the present holder of the mortgage.”

The citizen laughed. “TI will engage,” he said, “that
the keenest sportsman to whom J] may apply on this oc-
casion, shall-not have : thought beyond the Lord Mayor’s
Easter-hunt, in Epping-Forest- But your lordship’ S caus
tion is reasonable. The creditor must be bound to allow
Lord Glenvarloch sufficient time to redeem his estate by
means of the royal warrant, and must way e in his favour
the right of instant foreclosure, which ma iy be. I should

think, the more easily managed, as the right of redemp-

tion must be exercised in his own name.’

“ But where shall we find a person in London fit te
draw the necessary writings?” said the Earl. “Jf my
old friend Sir John Skene of Halyards had

lived, we
should have had his advice; but time presses, and ”———after the Hneolish

 

Why \TT ) oa) eS > ° es
hin Otel n matters ot weioht 5 ise
1 oft In matters of weicht and of importa ‘
<3 i i Lal i
wili send one ot my <er oh poate ai 1? '
sna one Ot My servine-men for him, and the mutual

 

bours, and I trust will be more kind ones
fathers were formerly. There is but t
betwixt the cé¢
from the battlen

The old E
to muse upon

 

“ Does Lord Dalearno follow t
aS

we riz e 14 1 | Tarot b
gext week’ Said feriot, b

bersation.212 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

“He proposes so, I think,” answered Lord Huntinglen,
relapsed into his reverie for a minute or two, and then
addressed Nigel somewhat abruptly —

“My young friend, when you attain possession of your
inheritance, as I hope you soon will, I trust you will not
add one to the idle followers of the Court, but reside on
your patrimonial estate, cherish your ancient tenants,
relieve and assist your poor kinsmen, protect the poot
against subaltern oppression, and do what our fathers
used to do with fewer lights and with less means than we
have.”

;

“And yet the advice to keep the country,” said Heriot,

“comes from an ancient and constant ornament of the
Court.”

“From an old courtier, indeed,” said the Earl, “aud
the first of my family that could so write himself— my¥
pray beard falls on a cambric ruff, and a silken doublet—
my father’s descended upon a buff coat and a breastplate.
I would not that these days of battle returned; but I
should love well to make the oaks of my old forest of
Dalgarno ring once more with halloo, and horn, and
bound, and to have the old stone-arched hall return the
hearty shout of my vassals and tenants, as the bicker
and the quaigh walked their rounds amongst them. JI
should like to see the broad Tay once more before I
die—not even the Thames can match it, in my mind.”

“Surely, my lord,” said the citizen, “ all this might be
easily done—it costs but.a moment’s resolution, and the
journey of some brief days, and you will be where you
desire to be—what is there to prevent you? ”

“Habits, Master George, habits,” rephed the Earl,
“which to young men are like threads of silk. so lightly

are they worn, so scon broken; but which hang on our
YQold limbs as iJ

perchance be corrected |

es |
—See, here he comes.

 

Lord Dal:
end of the alley to

guests were seate

peruse his counten:

 

point-device, and

 

fashion of the time, which suited w ell with his age; prob-
ably about five-and-twenty, with a noble form and fine
eountenance, in which last could easily be | d the
manly features of his tather, but softened by a more

i. ] os CO nadsAnaAne ROM r the he af
nabitual air of aSslauous courtesy than toe: SI

Earl h<

—7 e
&
i

)

Re

ab epee
ices z

OCA CNRS pee

 

  
 
 
   
    
     
    
   
     
 
   
   
   
  
     
   
    
  
  
   
   
     
     
    
      
    
  
 
  
  
 

WAVERLEY NOVELS.

m general. In other respects his address was gallant
free, and unencumbered either oy pride or ceremony—-

Tee
oty

far remote certainly from the charge either of haug
coldness or forward impetuosity ; and so far his father
had jastly freed him from the marked faults which he
ascribed to the manners of the Prince and his favourite
Buckingham.

While the old Earl presented his young acquaintance
Lord Glenvarloch to his son, as one whom he would have
him love and honour, Nigel marked the countenance of
Lord Dalgarno closely, to see if he could detect aught of
that secret dislike which the King had, in one of. his

A 9 A

broken expostulations, seemed to intimate. as arising from

a clas shing nS interests betwixt his new friend and the

great Buckingham. But nothing of this was visible; on
the contrary, Texd Dalgarno received his new a acquain-

J

tance with the open frankness and courtesy which makes
conquest at once, when addressed to the feelings of an
ingenuous young man.

It need hardly be told that his open and friendly ad-
dress met equally ready and cheerful acceptation from
Nigel Olifaunt. | e a youth
not much above two-and-twenty, he had been restrained
y circumstances from the conversation of his equals.
When, on his father’s sudden death, he left the Low
Countries for Scotland, he had found himself

x

man ry mrs t * Ine hy
mM Or - many months. and Whol

involved, te
all appearance inextricably, with the details of the law,

all of which threatened to end in the alienation of the
patrimony which should Support his hereditary rank.

His term of sincere mourning, jomed to injured pride,
< e e 4
7 Ts nk > Be Beg 7
and the swelling of the heart under unexpected and un-

deserved misfortun 1e, together with the uncertainty attend-

ing the issue of his affairs, had induced the young LordTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 2S

 
  
 
 
 
   
 
 
 
 
  
  
  

“ a int Te
of Glenvarloch to liv
+ g 1 7
vate and reserved m
—: Y ¥
in Londo: reader

 

ancholy and seclude:
to his a:
He hailed, therefore, wit]
which a young man of
him; and, when he |

some of those words

uncon

according to his se
kept his bodv bent an
moment that he came
he was about to be

“ Who is this, y
who had retained the

Seottish Baron even

native country; “and
he 7+ } Y) I ayn } 9gR
rain to him, } eep Dat

2 ) tas S peae ee he
gon’s intrusion, sald co
whom we desire to se

1 ,
4

face as an honest

 

noddle charged
4 J

The serivener did

 

4 l L vee eat I 2: ahave 1 i
of an automaton, which sudaenly opeys th |

* Pp ESE TNC? Pes Saritece n the baste

pressed spring. But, strange to teu, n0b eV" n the hasteemnaReint, ©

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ae “SNR ARRON RTT

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216 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

he had made to attend his patron’s mandate, a business,
as Master Heriot’s message expressed, of weight and im
portance—nay, not even the state of depression in which,
put of sheer humility doubtless; he had his head stooped
to the earth, from the moment he had trod the demesnes
of the Earl of Huntinglen, had called any colour into his
countenance. ‘The drops stood on his brow from haste
and toil, but his cheek was still pale and tallow-coloured as
before; nay, what seemed stranger, his very hair, when
he raised his head, hung down on either cheek as straight

ye

and sleek and undisturbed as if

>

was when we first intro-
duced him to our readers, seated at his quiet and humble
desk.

Lord Dalgarno could not forbear a stifled laugh at the
ridiculous and puritanical figure which presented itself
like a starved anatomy to the company, and whispered at
the same time into Lord Glenvarloch’s ear—

“The devil damn thee black, thou cream-faced loon,
Where got’st thou that goose-look ?””

Nigel was too little Sle with the English stage,
to understand a quotation which had already grown matter
of common allusion - San Lord Dalgarno saw that
he was not understood, and continued, “That fellow, by
his visage, should either be a saint, or a most hypocritical
rogue—and such is my excellent opinion of human na-
ture, that I apa suspect the worst. But they seem
deep in business. Will you take a turn with me in the
garden, my lord, or will you remain a member of the
serious conclave ? ”

“With you, my lord, most willingly,” said Nigel; and
they were turning away accordingly, when George Heriot,
with the formality be inetng to his station, observed, that"as their business concerned [Loi
better rem ain, to make himself ster of
ta it.” ae Z

66 My
my best
“T shall
with
the enc
take the helm out of the

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hay € already cuided my course withi ioht of a fair and

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Master George Heriot—he has not misplaced his cenfi-
dence.”

Master Geors
young nobleme
arm-in-arm, a

C (
U

misplaced hi
says—but nevert
behoves every

affairs, so soon

 

to.
When he had made this observation, 1

themselves, with the scrivener, to look into various pa-

pers, and to direct in what manner writings should

ha
De

drawn, which might at once a

those who218 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

time preserve the right of the young nobleman to redeem
the family estate, provided he should obtain the means cf

bursement from the Scot<

bh

doing-so, by the expected rein
tish Exchequer, or otherwise. It is needless to enter into
those details. But it is not unimportant to mention, as

7
'

an illustration of character, that |

jm

eriot went into the
most oie legal details with a precision which showed
that experience had made ee master even of the intri-
cacies of Scottish conveyancing; and that the Earl of
Huntinglen, though far es ee with technical
detail, suffered no step of the business to pass over, until
he had attained a general but distinct idea of its import
and its propriety.

They seemed to be admirably seconded in their beney-
olent intentions towards the young Lord Glenvarloch, by

7
|
}

the skill and eager zeal of the scrivener, whom Heriot
had introduced to this piece of business, the most impor-
tant which Andrew had ever transacted in his life, and
the particulars of which were moreover agitated in his
oe between an actual earl, and one whose wealth
and character might entitle him to be alderman of his
ward, if not to be lord mayor, in his turn.

While they were thus in eager conversation on busi-

ness, the good Karl even forgetting the calls of his appe-

tite, and the delay of dinner, in his anxiety to see that

the scrivener Ese proper instructions, and that-all
was rightly weighed and considered before dismissing
him to engross the necessary deeds, the two ee men
yalked together on the terrace which overhung the river,
and talked on the topics which Lord Dalearno, ee eldest,

and the most experienced, thought most

ikely to interest
his new friend.

These nat rally SAiwvann aA 1 ;
LD LiGAL Iva Ly Le z al aea Lue pleas ures att endins 4

©at understandine that Ni
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WAVERLEY NOVELS.
burst of laughter, which he thought not only causeless,

but almost impertinent. °

He soon recollected himself, however, and said, in a
tone qualified to allay Lord Dalgarno’s extreme mirth,
« This is all well, my lord; but how am I to understand
your merriment?” Lord Dalgarno only answered him
with redoubled peals of laughter, and at length held by
Lord Glenvarloch’s cloak, as if to prevent his falling
down on the ground, in the extremity of his convulsion.

At length, while Nigel stood half abashed, half angry,
at becoming thus the subject of his new acquaintance’s
ridicule, and was only restrained from expressing his
resentment against the son, by a sense of the obligations
he owed the father, Lord Dalgarno recovered himself,
and spoke in a half-broken voice, his eyes still running
with tears. “I crave your pardon, my dear Lord Glen-
varloch—ten thousand times do I crave your pardon.
But that last picture of rural dignity, accompanied by
your grave and angry surprise at my laughing at what
would have made any court-bred hound laugh, that had
but so much as bayed the moon once from the court-yard
at Whitehall, totally overcame me. Why, my liefest and
dearest lord, you, a young and handsome fellow, with
high birth, a title, and the name of an estate, so well re-
ceived by the King at your first starting, as makes your
farther progress scarce matter of doubt, if you know how
to improve it—for the King has already said you area
‘braw lad, and well studied in the more humane letters’
—you, too, whom all the women, and the very marked
beauties of the court, desire to see, because you came
from Leyden, were born in Scotland, and have gained a
hard-contested suit in Hngland—you, I say, witha person
like a prince, an eye of fire, and a wit as quick, to thinkTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. D9T

pf throwing your cards on the table when the vame is in
your very hand, running back to the frozen north, and

 

marrying—let me see—a tall, stalking, blue-eyed, fair-
skinned, bony wench, with eighteen quarters in her
scutcheon, a sort of Lot’s wife, newly descended from her
pedestal, and with her to shut yourself up in your tap
tried chamber! Uh, gad !—Swouns, I shall never survive
the idea!”

It is seldom that youth, however high-minded, is able,

CS=

YU

from mere strength of character and principle, to support
itself against the force of ridicule. Half angry, half mor-
tified, and, to say truth, half ashamed of his more manly
‘el was unable, and flattered him-

oO
oO

and better purpose, Ni
self it was unnecessary, to play the part of a rigid moral
patriot, in presence of a young man whose current fluency
of language, as well as his experience in the highest cir-
cles of society, gave him, in spite of Nigel’s better and
firmer thoughts, a temporary ascendency over him. He
sought, therefore, to compromise the matter, and avoid
farther debate, by frankly owning, that, if to return to his
own country were not his choice, it was at least a matter
of necessity. “ His affairs,” he said, “were unsettled, his
income precarious.”

¢ And where is he whose affairs are settled, or whose
income is less than precarious, that is to be found in
attendance on the Court?” said Lord Dalgarno; “all are
aither losing or winning. Those who have wealth, come
hither to get rid of it, while the happy gallants who, like
you and I, dear Glenvarloch, have little or none, have
every chance to be sharers in their spoils.”

“J have no ambition of that sort,” said Nigel, “and,
if I had, I must tell you plainly, Lord Dalgarno, I have

not the means tc do so. I can scarce ag yet call the suit

    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    

“aFncsaey eT PRS

PNR!

WAVERLEY NOVELS

I wear my own; I owe it, and I do not blush to say so,

to the friendship of yonder good man.’

«J will not laugh again, if I can help it,’ said Lord
Dalgarno. “ But, Lord! that you should have gone to
a wealthy gol ldsmith for your habit—why I could have
brought you to an honest, confiding tailor, who should
have furnished you with half-a- dozen, merely for love of
the little word, ‘ lordship,’ which you place before your
name ; hen your goldsmith, if he be really a
friendly goldsmith, should have equipped you with such
as would have bought you
you.”

      

a purse of fair ‘rose-nobles
thrice as many suits, or done better things for

“J do not understand these fashions, my lord,’ said
Nigel, his displeasure mastering his shame; “ were I to
attend the Court of my Sovereign, it should be when I
could maintain, without shifting or borrowing, the dress
and retinue which my rank requires.”

“ Which my rank requires!” said Lord Dalgarno, re-
peating his last words ; “that, now, is as good as if my
father had spoke it. I fancy you would love to move to
Court like him, followed by a round score of old blue-
bottles, with white heads and red noses, with bucklers and
broadswords, which their hands, trembling betwixt age
and strong waters, can make no use of—as many huge
silver badges on their arms, to show whose fools they
are, as would furnish forth a court cupboard of plate—
rogues fit for nothing but to fill our antechambers with
the flavour of onions and genievre—pah !”

“The poor knaves!” said Lord Glenvarloch; “ they
Lave served your father, it may be, in the wars. What
would become of them were he to turn them off!”

“ Why. let them go to the hospital,” said Dalgarno, “ or
fo the bridge-end to sell switches. ‘The King is a betterTHER FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 223

man than my father, and you see those who have served
in Ais wars do so every day; or; when their blue rats
were well worn out, they would make rare scarecrows.
Here is a fellow, now, comes down the walk ; the stoutest
raven dared not come within a yard of that copper nose.
I tell you, there is more service, as you will soon see, in
my valet of the chamber, and such a lither lad as my
page Lutin, than there is in a score of these old memo-
rials of the Douglas wars,* where they cut each other’s
throats for the chance of finding twelve pennies Scots on
the person of the slain. Marry, my lord, to make amends,
they will eat mouldy victuals, and drink stale ale, as if
their bellies were puncheons—but the dinner-bell is going
to sound—hark, it is clearing its rusty throat, with a pre-
liminary jowl. zee is another clamorous relic of an-
tiquity, that, were I master, should soon be at the bottom
of the Thames. How the foul fiend can it interest the
peasants and mechanics in the Strand, to know that the
Earl of Huntinglen is sitting down to dinner? But my
father looks our way—we must not be late for the grace,
or we shall be in dis-grace, if you will forgive a quibble
which would have made his Majesty laugh. You will
find us all of a-piece, and, i ing been accustomed to eat
in saucers abroad, I am ashamed you should witness our
larded capons, our mountains of beef, and oceans of brewis,

=
©O

as large as Hi ighland hills and lochs; but you shall see
better cheer to-morrow. Where lodge you ? IT will
call for you. I must be your guide through the peo-

iit

g
pled desert, to certain e mnchanted lands, which you will

The cruel civil -wars waged by the Scottish barons during the
minority of James VI. had this name, from the figure made in them
by the cele ‘brated James Douglas Ear] of Morton. Both sides executed

the y prisoners without mercy or favour.224 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

scarce discover without chart and pilot. Where lodge
you?”

“T will meet you in Paul’s,” said Nigel, a good deal
embarrassed, “at any hour you please to name.”

“Oh, you would be private,” said the young lord;
“Nay, fear not me—I will be no intruder. But we have
attained this huge larder of flesh, fowl, and fish. I marvel
the oaken boards groan not under it.”

They had indeed arrived in the dining-parlour of the
mansion, where the table was superabundantly loaded,
and where the number of attendants, to a certain extent,

vindicated the sarcasms of the young nobleman. The

sa
chaplain, and Sin Nios Malagrowther, were of the
party. The latter complimented Lord Glenvarloch upon
the impression he had made at Court. “One would have
thought ye had brought the apple of discord in your pouch,
my lord, or that you were the very fire-brand of whilk
Althea was delivered, and that she had lain-in in a barrel

L

of gunpowder; for the King, and the Prince, and the
Duke, have been by the lugs about ye, and so have many
more, that kendna before this blessed day that there was
such a man living on = face of the earth.”

“ Mind your victuals, Sir Mungo,” said the Earl; “they
get cold while you a

“'Troth, and that needsna, my lord,” said the Knight;
“your lordship’s dinners seldom scald one’s mouth—the
serving-men are turning auld, like oursells, my lord, and
it is far between the kitchen and the ha’.”

With this little explosion of his spleen, Sir Mungo
remained satisfied, until the dishes were removed, when,
fixing his eyes on the brave new doublet of Lord Dal-
garno, he complimented him on his economy, pretending

fo recognise it as the same which his father had wornTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 225

in Edinburgh in the Spanish ambassador’s time. Lord
Dalgarno, too much a man of the world to be moved by
any thing from such a quarter, proceeded to crack some
nuts with great deliberation, as he replied, that the doub-
let was in some sort his father’s, as it was likely to cost
him fifty pounds some day soon. Sir Mungo forthwith
proceeded in his own way to convey this agreeable intel-
ligence to the Earl, observing, that his son was a better
maker of bargains than his lordship, for he had bought a
doublet as rich as that his lordship wore when the Span-
ish ambassador was at Holyrood, and it had cost him but
fifty pounds Scots ;—“ that was no fool’s bargain, my
lord.”

“ Pounds sterling,
the Earl, calmly; “and a fool’s bargain it is, in all the

if you please, Sir Mungo,” answered

tenses. Dalgarno was a fool when he bought—I will be

 

a fool when I pay—and you, Sir Mungo, craving your
pardon, are a fool in presenti, for speaking of what
concerns you not.”

So saying, the Earl addressed himself to the serious
business of the table, and sent the wine around with a
profusion which increased the hilarity, but rather threat-
ened the temperance, of the company, until their joviality
was interrupted by the annunciation that the scrivener
had engrossed such deeds as required to be presently
executed.

George Heriot rose from the table, observing, that
wine-cups and legal documents -were unseemly neigh-
bours.. The Earl asked the scrivener, if they had laid
a trencher and set a cup for him in the buttery? and
received the respectful answer, that Heaven forbid he
should be such an ungracious beast as to eaf or drink
until his lordship’s pleasure was performed.

VOL. XXVII 15= we SRT a Fie 8a Patel NB jsnecieoag ii
STS NNR ARTY 4S legaiin ad 1 ieee een paalag

es ate re

226 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

“Thou shalt eat before thou goest,” said Lord Hunt-
inglen; “and I will have thee try, moreover, whether a
cup of sack cannot bring some colour into these cheeks
of thine. It were a shame to my household, thou shouldst
glide out into the Strand after such a spectre-fashion as
thou now wearest.—Look to it, Dalgarno, for the honour
of our roof is concerned.”

Lord Dalgarno gave directions that the man should be
attended to. Lord Glenvarloch and the citizen, in the
meanwhile, signed and interchanged, and thus closed a
transaction, of which the principal party concerned under-
stood little, save that it was under the management of a
zealous and faithful friend, who undertook that the money
should be forthcoming, and the estate released from for-

@

feiture, by payment of the stipulated sum for which it
stood pledged, and that at the term of Lambmas, and at
the hour of noon, and beside the tomb of the regent Earl
of Murray, in the High Kirk of Saint Giles, at Edin-
burgh, being the day and place assigned for such redemp-
tion.*

When this business was transacted, the old Earl would
fain have renewed his carouse; but the citizen, alleging
the importance of the deeds he had about him, and the
business he had to transact betimes the next morning, not
only refused to return to table, but carried with him to
his barge Lord Glenvarloch, who might, perhaps, have
been otherwise found more tractable.

When they were seated in the boat, and fairly once
more afloat in the river, George Heriot looked back
seriously on the mansion they had left—* There® live,” he

* As each covenant in those days of accuracy had a special place

nominated for execution, the tomb of the Regent Earl of Murray in
™ Peer a een: : : e r x
St. Giles’s Church was frequently assigned for the purpose.THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 227

paid, “the old fashion and the new. The father is like a
noble old broadsword, but harmed with rust, from negleet

and “inactivity; the son is your modern rapier, well-

mounted, fairly gilt, and fashioned to the taste of the time
——and it is time must evince if the metal be as good as.
the show. God grant it prove so, says an old friend to
the family.”

Nothing of consequence passed betwixt them, until
Lord Glenvarloch, landige at Paul’s Wharf, took leave
of his friend the citizen, and retired to his own apart-
ment; where his attendant, Richie, not a little elevated
with the events of the day, and with the hospitality of
Lord Huntinglen’s housekeeping, gave a most splendid
account of them to the buxom Dame Nelly, who rejoiced
to hear that the sun at length was shining upon what
Richie ealled the right side of the hedge.> RNR ii i, er mena

a

soir opiate

228 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

CHAPTER XI.
se

You are not for the manner nor the times.
They have their vices now most like tc virtues;
You cannot know them apart by any difference,
They wear the same clothes, eat the same meat—
Sleep i’ the self-same beds, ride in those coaches,
Or, very like, four horses in a coach,

As the best men and women.
BEN JONSON.

On the following morning, while Nigel, his breakfast
finished, was thinking how he should employ the day,
there was a little bustle upon the stairs which attracted
his attention, and presently entered Dame Nelly, blushing
like scarlet, and scarce able to bring out—* A young
nobleman, sir—no one less,” she added, drawing her hand

slightly over her lips, “ would be so saucy

 

a young noble-
man, sir, to wait on you!”

And she was followed into the little cabin by Lord
Dalgarno, gay, easy, disembarrassed, and apparently as
much pleased to rejoin his new acquaintance as if he had
found him in the apartments of a palace. Nigel, on the
contrary, (for youth is slave to such circumstances,) was
discountenanced and mortified at being surprised by so
Splendid a gallant in a chamber, which, at the moment
the elegant and high-dressed cavalier appeared init,
seemed to its inhabitant, yet lower, narrower, darker, and

meaner than it had ever-shown before. Te would -haveTHE

 

FORTUNES OF NIGEL.

ho

29

made some apology for the situation, but Lord Daloearno
cut him short

 

“Not a word of it,” he said, “not a sinele word—I

 

know why you ride at anchor here—but I can keep
counsel—so pretty a hostess would recommend worse
quarters,”

“Qn my word—on my honour,” said Lord Glenvar-
loch——

“Nay, nay, make no words of the matter,” said Lord
Dalgarno; “I am no tell-tale, nor shall I cross your
walk; there is game enough in the forest, thank Heaven,
and I can strike a doe for myself.”

All this he said in so significant a manner, and the
explanation which he had adopted seemed to put Lord
Glenvarloch’s gallantry on so respectable a footing, that
Nigel ceased to to undeceive him ; and less ashamed,
perhaps, (for such is human weakness,) of supposed vice
than of real poverty, changed the discourse to something
else, and left poor Dame Nelly’s reputation and his own
at the mercy of the young courtier’s misconstruction.

He offered refreshments with some hesitation. Lord
Dalgarno had long since breakfasted, but had just come
from playing a set of tennis, he said, and would willingly
taste a cup of the pretty hostess’s single beer. ‘This was
easily procured, was drunk, was commended, a as the
hostess failed not to bring the cup herself, Lord Dal-
garno profited by the opportunity to take a eee and
more attentive view of her, and then gravely drank to
her husband’s health, with an almost imperceptible
nod to Lord Glenvarloch. Dame Nelly was much
honoured, smoothed her apron down with her hands,
and said,—“ Her John was greatly and truly honoured
by tbeir lordships—he was a lind, painstaking man foriste -ctnasienie

S _ ory One ea = big!

tee THRE

 

WAVERLEY NOVELS.

his family, as was in the alley, or indeed, as far north as
Paul’s Chain.”

She would have proceeded probably to state the differ-
ence betwixt their ages, as the only alloy to their nuptial
happiness; but her lodger, who had no mind to be farther
exposed to his gay friend’s raillery, gave her, contrary to
his wont, a signal to leave the room.

Lord Dalgarno looked after her, then looked at Glen-
varloch, shook his head, and repeated the well-known
lines—

“¢My lord, beware of jealousy—
It is the green-eyed monster which doth make
The meat it feeds on.’

But come,” he said, changing his tone, “I know not why
I should worry you thus—I who-have so many follies of
my own, when I should rather make excuse for being
here at all, and tell you wherefore I came.”

So saying, he reached a seat, and, placing another. for
Lord Glenvarloch, in spite of his anxious haste to antic-
ipate this act of nes he proceeded in the same tone
of easy familiarity :

‘We -are “nei ‘ehpotie, my lord, and are just made
known to each other. Now, I know enough of the dear
North, to be well aware that Scottish neighbours must be
either dear friends or deadly enemies—must either walk
hand-in-hand, or stand sword-point to sword-point; so I
choose the hand-in-hand, unless you should reject my
proffer.”

“ How were it possible, my lord,” said Lord Glenvar-
loch, “to refuse what is offered so frankly, even if your
father had not been a second father to me?” And, as
he took Lord Dalgarno’s hand, he added—“ I have, JTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEU. 231

-hink, lost no time, since, during one day’s attendance at
Court, Lhave made a kind friend and a powerful ae

“The friend thanks you,” replied Lord Dal loarno, “ for
your just opinion ; but, my dear Gle vation ae rather,
for titles are too ae between us of the better file—
what is your

&¢ Nige

oo”

Christian name? ”

1,” replied Lord Glenvarloch.

‘hen we will be Nigel and Malcolm to each other,”
said his visitor; “and my lord to the plebeian world
around us. But I was about to ask you whom you sup-
posed your enemy ?”

az

“No less than the all-powerful favourite, the great
Duke of Buckingham.”

“You dream! What could possess you with such an
opinion ?” said Dalgarno.

“ He told me so himself,” replied Glenvarloch; “ and,
in so doing, dealt frankly and honourably with me.”

“O, you know him not: yet,” said his companion; “the
Duke is moulded of an hundred noble and fiery qualities,
that prompt him, like a generous horse, to spring aside in
impatience at the least obstacle to his forward course.
But he means not what he says in such passing heats—I
ean do more with him, I thank Heaven, than most who
are around him; you shall go visit him with me, and you
will see how you shall be received.”

“T told you, my lord,” said Glenvarloch, firmly, and
with some haughtiness, “the Duke of Buckingham, with-
out the least offence, declared himself my enemy, in the
face of the Court; and he shall retract that ageression
as publicly as it was given ere I will make the slightest
advance towards Ben

“ You would act becomingly in every other case,” said
Lord Dalgarno, “but here you are wrong. In the court=

Meme

naps eeeieey Reese 5

Sain saith

eT

pen

er

vos -WAVERLEY NOVELS.

 

horizon, Buckingham is Lord of the Ascendant, and ag
he is adverse or favouring, so sinks or rises the fortune
of a suitor. The King would bid you remember your

Arripiens geminas, ripis cedentibus, ollas—

and so forth. You are the vase of earth; beware of
knocking yourself against the vase of iron.”
‘The vase of earth,” said Glenvarloch, “ will avoid

the e.icounter, by getting ashore out of the current—I

nee

mean to go no more to Cour

“Q, to Court you Bee must go; you will find
your Scottish suit move ill without ee * there is both
patronage and favour necessary to enforce the sign-man-
ual you have obtained. Of that we will speak more
hereafter; but tell me in the meanwhile, my dear Nigel,
whether you did not wonder to see me here so early ? ”

“T am surprised that you anid find me out in this
obscure corner,” said Lord Glenvarloch.

“ My page Lutin is a very devil for that sort of dis-
covery,’ replied Lord Dalgarno; “I have but to say,
‘ Goblin, I would know where he or she dwells, and he
guides me thither as if by art magic.”

ad

“I hope he waits not now in the street, my lord,” said

a

aa |
Nigel; “I will send my servant to seek eS

 

“Do not concern yourself—he is by this time,” said
Lord Dalgarno, “ pays at hustle-cap ee chuck-farth-
ine with the most black guard imps upon the wharf, unless
he hath foregone his old customs.”

““Aré you not afraid,” said Lord Glenvarloch, “ that in
such company his morals may become dk »praved ? ”

“Let his company look to their own,” answered Lord
Dalgarno, coolly ; “for it will be a company of real fiendsTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. Pet

in which Lutin cannot teach more mischief than he ca
learn : he is, I thank the gods, most thoroughly versed in
evil for his years. Iam spared the trouble of looking
after his moralities, for nothing can make them either
better or worse.”

“I wonder you can answer this to his parents, my
lord,” said Nigel.

“I wonder where I should find his parents,” replied
his companion, “to render an account to them.”

“He may be an orphan,” said Lord Nigel; “but
surely, being a page in your lordship’s family, his par-
ents must be of rank.”

“Of as high rank as the gallows could exalt them to,”
replied Lord Dalgarno, with the same indifference ; “ they

 

were both hanged, I believe—at least the gipsies, from
whom I bought him five years ago, intimated as much to
me.— You are surprised at this, now. But is it not better
that, instead of a lazy, conceited, whey-faced slip of gen-
tility, to whom, in your old-world idea of the matter, I
was bound to stand Sir Pedagogue, and see that he
washed his hands and face, said his prayers, learned his
accidens, spoke no naughty words, brushed his hat, and
wore his best doublet only of Suinday,—that, instead of
such. a Jacky Goodchild, I should have something like
this ?”

He whistled shrill and clear, and the page he spoke of
darted into the room, almost with the effect of an actual
apparition. From his height he seemed but fifteen, but,
from his face, might be two or even three years older,
“ery neatly made, and richly dressed ; with a thin bronzed
visage, which marked his gipsy descent, and a pair of
sparkling black eyes, which seemed almost to pierce
through those whom he looked at.LE mess

IP Saati TOs

spor, Ae army 2

i
&

 

Rat = tag tee IH PINES
ee eee

   
   
  
 
 
 
   
   
  
 
 
 
 
  
   
  
  
  
   
    
   
  

234 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

“ There he is,” said Lord Dalgarno, “ fit for every ele
ment—prompt to execute every command, good, bad, or
indifferent—unmatched in his tribe, as rogue, thief, and

liar.”

« All which qualities,” said the undaunted page, “ have
each in turn-stood your lordship in stead.”

“ Out you imp of Satan!” said his master ; “ vanish—-
begone—or my conjuring rod goes about your ears.”
The boy turned, and disappeared as suddenly as he had
entered. “You see,” said Lord Dalgarno, “ that, in
choosing my household, the best regard I can pay to
gentle blood, is to exclude it from my service—that very
gallows-bird were enough to corrupt a whole antecham-
ber of pages, though they were descended from Kings
and Kaisers.” *

* About this time the ancient customs arising from the long preva-
lence of chivalry, began to be grossly varied from the original pur-
poses of the institution. None was more remarkable than the change
which took place in the breeding and occupation of pages. This pe-
culiar species of menial originally consisted of youths of noble birth,
who, that they might be trained to the exercise of arms, were early
removed from their paternal homes, where too much indulgence might
have been expected, to be placed in the family of some prince or man
of rank and military renown, where they served, as it were, an ap-
prenticeship to the duties of chivalry and courtesy. Their education
was severely moral, and pursued with great strictness in respect to
useful exercises, and what were deemed elegant accomplishments.
From being pages, they were advanced to the next gradation of
squires; from squires, these candidates for the honours of knighthood
were frequently made knights.

But in the sixteenth century the page had become, in many instan-
ces, a mere domestic, who sometimes, by the splendour of his address
and appearance, was expected to make up in show for the absence of
tu Whole band of retainers with swords and bucklers. We have Sit
John’s authority when he cashiers part of his train.

“' Falstaff will learn the humour of the age,
French thrift, you rogues, myself and skirted page.”THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL.

bo

Qf
54

3 : oe seein): ;
I can scarce think that a nobleman should need the
offices of such an attendant as your goblin,” said Nigel ;
“you are but jJesting with my inexperience.”

cm: us : as +e
‘Time will show whether I jest or not, my dear Nigel,”

Jonson, in a high tone of moral indignation, thus reprobated the
change. The Host of the New Inn replies to Lord Lovel, who asks te
have his son for a page, that he would, with his own hands, hang him
pooner

“Than damn him to this desperate course of life.
Lovel. Call you that desperate, which, by a line
Of institution, from our ancestors
Hath been derived down to us, and received
In a succession for the noblest way
Of brushing up our youth, in letters, arms,
Fair mien, discourses civil, exercise,
And all the blazon of a gentleman?
Where can he learn to vault, to ride, to fence,
To move his body gracefully, to speak
The language pure, or to turn his mind
Or manners more to the harmony of nature,
Than in these nurseries of nobility?
Host. Ay, that was when the nursery’s self was noble,
And only virtue made it, not the market,
That titles were not vended at the drum
And common outcry; goodness gave the greatness,
And greatness worship; every house became
An academy, and those parts
We see departed in the practice now
Quite from the institution.
Lovel. Why do you say so,
Or think so enviously? do they noé still
Learn thus the Centaur’s skill, the art of Thrace,
To ride? or Pollux’ mystery, to fence?
The Pyrrhick gestures, both to stand and spring
In armour; to be active for the wars;
To study figures, numbers, and proportions,
May yield them great in counsels and the arts;
‘To make their English sweet upon their tongue?

wm

As reverend Chaucer say
Host. Sir, you mistake ;

To play Sir Pandarus, my copy hath it,

And carry messages to Madam Cressid ;

Instead of backing the brave steed o’ mornings,

To kiss the chambermaid. and for a leapf
&

STEPS MRERT Sz

“Dh iat SaaRTER con

936 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

replied Dalgarno; “in the meantime, I have to propose
to you to take the advantage of the flood-tide, to run up
the river for pastime; and at noon I trust you will dine
with me.”

Nigel acquiesced in a plan which promised so much
amusement ; and his new friend and he, attended by
Lutin and Moniplies, who greatly resembled, when thus
associated, the conjunction ofa bear and a monkey, took
possession of Lord Dalgarno’s wherry, which, .with its
badged watermen, bearing his lordship’s crest on their
arms, lay in readiness to receive them. The air was
delightful upon the river; and the lively conversation of
Lord Dalgarno added zest to the pleasures of the little
voyage. He could not only give an acceunt of the vari-
ous public buildings and noblemen’s houses which they
passed in ascending the Thames, bur knew how to season
his information with abundance of anecdote, political in-
nuendo, and personal scandal; if he had not very much
ly master of the fashionable
tone, which in that time, as in ours, more than amply

wit, he was at least complete
supplies any deficiency of the kind.

0’ the vaulting horse, to ply the vaulting house;
For exercise of arms a bale of dice,

And two or three packs of cards to show the cheat
And nimbleness of hand; mis-take a cloak

From my lord’s back, and pawn it; ease his pockets
Of a superfluous watch, or geld a jewel

Of an odd stone or so; twinge three or four buttons
From off my lady’s gown: These are the arts,

Or seven liberal deadly sciences,

Of pagery, or rather paganism,

As the tides run; to which, if he apply him,

He may, perhaps, take a degree at Tyburn,

A year the earlier come to read a lecture

Upon Aquinas, at Saint Thomas-a-Watering’s,

And so go forth a laureate in hemp circle.”

Tae New Inn, Act ITHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL.

bo

3d

Tt was a style of conversation entirely new to his com-
panion, as was the world which Lord Dalgarno opened te
his observation ; and it is no wonder that Nigel, notwith-
standing his natural good sense and high spirit, admitted,
more readily than seemed consistent with either, the tone
of authoritative instruction which his new friend assumed
towards him. ‘There would, indeed, have been some diffi-
culty in making a stand. To attempt a high and stubborn
tone ef morality, in answer to the light strain of Lord
Dalgarno’s conversation, which kept on the frontiers
between jest and earnest, would have seemed pedantic
and ridiculous; and every attempt which Nigel made to
combat his companion’s propositions, by reasoning as
jocose as his own, only showed his inferiority in that gay
species of controversy. And it must be owned, besides,
though internally disapproving much of what he heard,
Lord Glenvarloch, young as he was in society, became
less alarmed by the language and manners of his new
associate, than in prudence he ought to have been.

Lord Dalgarno was unwilling to startle his proselyte
by insisting upon any topic which appeared particularly
to jar with his habits or principles ; and he blended his
mirth and his earnest so dexterously, that it was impos-
sible for Nigel to discover how far he was serious in his
propositions, or how far they flowed from a wild and ex-
travagant spirit of raillery. And, ever and anon, those
flashes of spirit and honour crossed his conversation,
which seemed to intimate, that, when stirred to action by
some adequate motive, Lord Dalgarno would prove somes
thing very different from the court-haunting and ease-
loving voluptuary, which he was pleased to represent as
his chosen character.

As they returned down the river, Lord GlenvarlochSRB roma

938 VAVERLEY NOVELS.

remarked, that the boat passed the mansion of Lord Hun-
tinglen, and noticed the circumstance to Lord Dalgarno,
observing, that he thought they were to have dined. there,
“Surely no,” said the young nobleman, “I have more
mercy on you than to gorge you a second time with raw
beef and canary wine. I propose something better for
you, I promise you, than such a second Scythian festivity.
And as for my father, he proposes to dine to-day with my
grave, ancient Earl of Northampton, whilome that cele-
brated putter-down of pretended prophecies, Lord Henry
Howard.” *

“ And do you not go with him ? ” said his companion.

“To what purpose?” said Lord Dalgarno. “To hear
his wise lordship speak musty politics in false Latin,
which the old fox always uses, that he may give the
learned Majesty of England an opportunity of correcting
his slips in grammar?- That were a rare employment!”

“Nay,” said Lord Nigel, “but out of respect, to wait
on my lord your father.”

“My lord my father,’ replied Lord Dalgarno, *“ has
blue-bottles enough to wait on him, and can well dispense
with such a butterfly as myself. He can lift the eup of

* Lord Henry Howard was the second son of the poetical Earl of
Surrey, and possessed considerable parts and learning. He wrote, in
the year 1583, a book called, “ A Defensative against the Poison of
supposed Prophecies.’? He gained the favour of Queen Elizabeth, by
having, he says, directed his battery against a sect of prophets and
pretended soothsayers, whom he accounted infesti regibus,
presses it. In the last years of the Que
ardent partisan, and conducted wit}

as he ex-
en, he became James’s most
1 great pedantry, but much in-
trigue, the correspondence betwixt the Scottish King and the younger
Cecil. Upon James’s accession, he was created Earl of Northampton,
and Lord Privy Seal. According to De Beaumont the French Am-
bassador, Lord Henry Howard was one of the greatest flatterers and
calumniators that ever livedTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 239

sack to his head without my assistance; and, should the
paid paternal head turn something giddy, there be men
enough to guide his right honourable lordship to his lord-
ship’s right honourable couch.—Now, do not stare at me,
Nigel, as if my words were to sink the boat with us. I

 

 

love my father—I love him dearly—and I respect him,
too, though I respect not many things; a trustier old
Trojan never belted a broadsword by a loop of leather.
But what then? He belongs to the old world, I to the
new. He has. /his follies, I have mine; and the less
either of us sees of the other’s peccadilloes, the greater

will be the honour and respect—that, I think, is the

 

proper phrase—lI say, the respect in which we shall hold
each other. Being apart, each of us is himself, such as
nature and circumstances have made him; but, couple us
up too closely together, you will be sure to have in your
leash either an old hypocrite or a young one, or perhaps
both the one and tother.”

As he spoke thus, the boat put into the landing-place
at Blackfriars. Lord Dalgarno sprung ashore, and, fling-
ing his cloak and rapier to*his page, recommended to his
companion to do the like. “We are coming among a
press of gallants,” he said; “and, if we walk thus muffled,
we shall look like your tawny-visaged Don, who wraps
him close in his cloak, to conceal the defects of his
doublet.”

“J have known many an honest man do that, if it
please your lordship,” said Richie Moniplies, who had
been watching for an opportunity to intrude himself on
the conversation, and probably remembered what had
been his own condition, in respect to cloak and doublet, at
a very recent period.
Lord - Dalgarno stared at him, as if surprised at hiscin Stamens ar

    
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
 
 
 
  
  
 
 
 
  
   
  
   
   
   
  
   
   

340 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

assurance; but immediately answered. “ You may have’
known many things, friend, but, in the meanwhile, you do
not know what principally concerns your master, namely,
how to carry his cloak, so as to show to advantage the
gold-laced seams, and the lining of sables. ‘See how
Lutin holds the sword, with the cloak cast partly. over it.
yet so as to set off the embossed hilt, and the silver work
of the mounting.—Give your familiar your sword, Nigel,”
he continued, addressing Lord Glenvarloch, “that he may
practise a lesson in an art so necessary.”

“Is it altogether prudent,” said Nigel, unclasping his
weapon, and giving it to Richie, “to walk entirely un-
armed ?”

“ And wherefore not,” said his companion. “You ara
thinking now of Auld Reekie, as my father fondly calls
your good Scottish capital, where there is such bandying
of private feuds and public factions, that a man of any
note shall not cross your High Street twice, without en-
dangering his life thrice.* Here, sir, no brawling in the
street is permitted. Your bull-headed citizen takes up

* Edinburgh appears to have been one of the most disorderly towns
in Europe, during the sixteenth and beginning of the seventeenth cen-
tury. The Diary of the honest citizen Birrel, repeatedly records such
incidents as the following:—“ The 24 of November, [1567,] at two
afternoon, the Laird of Airth and the Laird of Weems met on the High
Gate of Edinburgh, and they and their followers fought a very bloody
skirmish, where there were many hurt on both sides with shot of pis-
tol.”’ Those skirmishes also took place in London itself. In Shaé-
well’s play of the Scowrers, an old rake thus boasts of his early
exploits:—“ TI knew the Hectors, and before them, the Muns, and the
Tityretu’s; they were brave fellows indeed! In these days, a man
tould not go from the Rose Garden to the Piazza once, but he must
venture his life twice, my dear Sir Willie.”

But it appears that the
affrays, which, in the Scottish capital, arose out of hereditary quar-
reis and ancient feuds, were in London the growth of the licentious
ness and arrogance of young debauchees.THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 24)

the case so soon as the sword is drawn, and clubs is the
word.”

‘And a hard word it is,” said Richie, “as my brain-
pan kens at this blessed moment.”

“Were I your master, sirrah,” said Lord Dalgarno, “I
would make your brain-pan, as you call it, boil over, were
you to speak a word in my presence before you were
spoken to.”

Richie murmured some indistinct answer, but took the
hint, and ranked himself behind his master along with
Lutin, who failed not to expose his new companion to the
ridicule of the passers-by, by mimicking, as often as he
could do so unobserved by Richie, his stiff and upright
stalking gait and discontented physiognomy.

“ And tell me now, my dear Malcolm,” said Nigel,
“where we are bending our course, and whether we shall
dine at an apartment of yours.”

« An apartment of mine—yes, surely,” answered Lord
Dalgarno, “you shall dine at an apartment of mine, and
an apartment of yours, and of twenty gallants besides ;
and where the board shall present better cheer, better
wine, and better attendance, than if our whole united
exhibitions went to maintain it. We are going to the
most noted ordinary of London.”

“That is, in common language, an inn, ora tavern,”
said Nigel.

“An inn, or a tavern, my most green and simple
friend!” exclaimed Lord Dalgarno. “No, no—these
are places where greasy citizens take pipe and pot, where
the knavish pettifoggers of the law spunge on theiz most
unhappy victims—where Templars crack jests as empty
as their nuts, and where small gentry imbibe such thin
potations, that they get dropsies instead of gettog drunk.
VOL. XXVII. 16ate S,

TG RNG. SE SOT pe TE EET RL eRe ae ; eT a ee ee peer

Cl ae

   
  
  
 
   
   
 
 
 
 

series =

= sia wo
Pain

2A? WAVERLEY NOVELS.

An ordinary is a late invented institution, sacred to Bac-
chus and Comus, where the choicest noble gallants of the
time meet with the first and most ethereal wits of the
age,—where the wine is the very soul of the choicest
grape, refined as the genius of the poet, and ancient and
generous as the blood of the nobles. And then the fare
is something beyond your ordinary gross terrestrial food !
Sea and land are ransacked to supply it; and the inven-

a

tion of six ingenious cooks kept eternally upon the rack
to make their art hold pace with, and if possible enhance,
the exquisite quality of the materials.”

“By all which rhapsody,” said Lord Glenvarloch, “I
can only understand, as I did before, that we are going to
a choice tavern, where we shall be handsomely enter-
tained, on paying probably as handsome a reckoning.”

1»
e

“Reckoning!” exclaimed Lord Dalgarno in the same
tone as before, “perish the peasantly phrase! What
profanation! Monsieur le Chevalier de Beaujeu, pink
of Paris and flower of Gascony—he who can tell the age
of his wine by the bare smell, who distils his sauces in an

who carves

 

alembic by the aid of Lully’s philosophy,
with such exquisite precision, that he gives to noble
knight and squire the portion of the pheasant which ex-
actly accords with his rank—nay, he who shall divide a
becafico into twelve parts with such scrupulous exactness,
that of twelve guests not one shall have the advantage of
ihe other in a hair’s-breadth, or the twentieth part of a
drachm, yet you talk of him and of a reckoning in the
same breath! Why, man, he is the well-known and
general referee in all matters affecting the mysteries of
Passage, Hazard, In-and-in, Penneeck, and Verquire, and
what not—why, Beaujeu is King of the Card-pack, and
Duke of the Dice-box—fe call a reckoning like a greenTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 243

aproned, red-nosed son of the vulgar spigot! Oh, my
dearest Nigel, what a word you haye spoken, and of what
a person! ‘That you know him not, is your only apology
for such blasphemy ; and yet I scarce hold it adequate,
for to have been a day in London and not to know
Beaujeu, is a crime of its own kind. But you shall
know him this blessed moment, and shall learn to hold
yourself in horror for the enormities you have uttered.”

“Well, but mark you,” said Nigel, “ this worthy chev-
alier keeps not all this good cheer at his own cost, does
fe? *’

“ No, no,” answered Lord Dalgarno ; “there is a sort
of ceremony which my chevalier’s friends and intimates
understand, but with which you have no business at pres-
ent. There is, as majesty might say, a symbolum to be

disbursed

 

in other words, a mutual exchange of cour-

his guests. He

tesies takes place betwixt Beaujeu and
makes them a free present of the dinner and wine, as
often as they choose to consult their own felicity by fre-
quenting his house at the hour of noon, and they, in
gratitude, make the chevalier, a present of a Jacobus.
Then you must know, that, besides Comus and Bacchus.
that princess of sublunary affairs, the Diva Fortuna, is
frequently worshipped at Beaujeu’s, and he, as officiating
high-priest, hath, as in reason he should, a considerable
advantage from a share of the sacrifice.”

“In other words,” said Lord Glenvarloch, “this man
keeps a gaming-house.”

“ A house in which you may certainly game,’
Dalgarno, “as you may in your own chamber, if you have

3

said Lord

a mind; nay, 1 remember old Tom Tally played a hand
at put for a wager’ with Quinze le Va, the Frenchman,

during morning prayers 10 Saint Paul’s; the morning
oO dte ae

spp iia cepes” penance

944 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

was misty, and the parson drowsy, and the whole audi-
ence consisted of themselves and a blind woman, and sq
they escaped detection.”

“Yor all this, Malcolm,” said the young lord, gravely,
“I cannot dine with you to-day, at this same ordinary.”

“And wherefore, in the name of Heaven, should you
draw back from your word?” said Lord Dalgarno.

“T do not retract my word, Malcolm ; but I am bound,
by an early promise to my father, never to enter the doors
of a gaming-house.”

“T tell you this is none,” said Lord Dalgarno ; “ it is,
but in plain terms, an eating-house, arranged on civiller
terms, and frequented by better company, than others in
this town; and if some of them do amuse themselves with
cards and hazard, they are men of honour, and who play
as such, and for no more than they can well afford to lose.
It was not, and could not be, such houses that your father
desired you to avoid. Besides, he might as well have
made you swear you would never take the accommodation
of an inn, tavern, eating-house, or place of public recep-
tion of any kind; for there is no such place of public
resort but where your eyes may be contaminated by the
sight of a pack of pieces of painted pasteboard, and your
ears profaned by the rattle of those little spotted cubes
of ivory. The difference is, that where we 90, We may
happen to see persons of quality amusing themselves with
a game; and in the ordinary houses you will meet bullies
and sharpers, who will strive either to cheat or to swagger
you out of your money.”

“Tam sure you would not willingly lead me to do what
is wrong,” said Nigel; “but my father had a horror of
games of chance, religious I believe, as well as prudential
He judged from I know not what circumstance, a falla-THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 245

; Q » . suri } y) 4 .

tious one, [ should hope, that I had a propensity to such
courses, and I have told you the promise which he exacted
from me.”

a

“ Now, by my honour,” said Dalgarno, “ what you have
said affords the strongest reason for my insisting that you
go with me. A man who would shun any danger, should
first become acquainted with its real bearing and extent,
and that in the company of a confidential guide and guard.
Do you think I myself game? Good faith, my father’s
oaks grow too far from London, and stand too fast rooted
in the rocks of Perthshire, for me to troll them down with
a die, though I have seen whole forests go down like nine-
pins. No, no—these are sports for the wea thy Southron,
not for the poor Scottish noble. The place is an eating-
house, and as such you and I will use it. If others use it
to game in, it is their fault, but neither that of the house
nor ours.”

Unsatisfied with this reasoning, Nigel still insisted upon
the promise he had given to his father, until his compan-
ion appeared rather displeased, and disposed to impute to
him injurious and unhandsome suspicions. Lord Glen-
varloch could not stand this change of tone. He recol-
lected that much was due from him to Lord Dalgarno, on
account of his father’s ready and efficient friendship, and
something also on account of the frank manner in which
the young man himself had offered him his intimacy.
He had no reason to doubt his assurances, that the house
where they were about to dine did not fall under the
description of places to which his father’s prohibition
referred ; and, finally, he was strong in his own resolution
to resist every temptation to join in games of chance. He
‘herefore pacified Lord Dalgarno, by intimating his will.

ingness to go along with him, and, the good humour ofDAG WAVERLEY NOVELS.

the young courtier instantaneously returning, he again

ran on in a grotesque and rodomontade accoiint of the
host, Monsieur de Beaujeu, which he did not conclude
until they had reached the temple of Hospitality over
which that eminent professor presided. *THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL.

CHAPTER XII.

 

This is the very barn-yard,

Where muster daily the prime cocks o’ the game,

Ruffle their pinions, crow till they are hoarse,

And spar about a barleycorn. Here too chickens,

The callow, unfledged brood of forward folly,

Learn first to rear the crest, and aim the’spur,

And tune their note like full-plumed Chanticleer.

THE BEAR-GARDEN.

Tux Ordinary, now an ignoble sound, was, in the days
of James, a new institution, as fashionable among the
youth of that age as the first-rate modern club-houses are
amongst those of the present day. It differed chiefly, in
being opened to all whom good clothes and good assurance
combined to introduce there. The company usually
dined together at an hour fixed, and the manager of the
establishment presided as master of the ceremonies.

Monsieur Le Chevalier, (as he qualified himself,) Saint
Priest de Beaujeu, was a sharp, thin Gascon, about sixty
years old, banished from his own country, as he said, on
account of an affair of honour, in which he had the mis-
fortune to kill his antagonist, though the best swordsman
‘1 the south of France. His pretensions to quality were
supported by a feathered hat, a long rapier, and a suit of
embroidered taffeta, not much the worse for wear, in the
extreme fashion of the Parisian court, and fluttering like
a Maypole with many knots of ribbon, of which it wasHy Se tn ai AIS ke eat
EARS ome RST pea gs 0 act maa Bong

Si ite SERRE taaA
<r ESPNS ainen Se gen am arraett

  

24S WAVERLEY NOVELS.

computed he bore at least five hundred yards about his
person. But, notwithstanding this profusion of decora-
tion, there were many who thought Monsieur le Cheva-
lier so admirably calculated for his present situation, that
nature could never have meant to place him an inch
above it. It was, however, part of the amusement of the
place for Lord Dalgarno and other young men of quality
to treat Monsieur de Beaujeu with a great deal of mock
ceremony, which being observed by the herd of more
ordinary and simple gulls, they paid him, in clumsy imi-
tation, much oa deference. The Gascon’s natural for-
wardness being much enhanced by these circumstances,
he was often guilty of presuming beyond the limits of his
situation, and of course had sometimes the mortification
to be disagreeably driven back into them.

When Nigel entered the mansion of this eminent per:
son, which had been but of late the residence of a great
Baron of Queen Elizabeth’s court, who had retired to his
manors in the country on the death of that princess, he
was surprised at the extent of the accommodation which
it afforded, and the jee of guests who were already
assembled. Feathers waved, spurs jingled, lace and em-
broidery glanced everywhere ; and, at first sight at least, it
certamly made good Lord Dalgarno’s encomium, who
represented the company as composed almost entirely of
youth of the first quality. A more close review was not
quite so favourable. Several individuals might be dis-
covered who were not exactly at their ease in the splendid
dresses which they wore, and who, therefore, might be
supposed not habitually familiar with such finery. Again,
there were others, whose dregs, though on a general view
¢ did not seem inferior to that of the rest of the company,
displayed, on being observed more closely, some of thoseTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 249

ced

petty expedients, by which vanity endeavours to diseuise
poverty.

Nigel had very little time to make such observations,
for the entrance of Lord Dalgarno created an immediate
bustle and sensation among the company, as his name
passed from one mouth to another. Some stood forward
to gaze, wiles a back to make way—those of his own
rank hastened to welcome |

      

those of inferior degree
endeavoured to catch some note of his gesture, or of his
dress, to be worn and practised upon a future occasion,
as the newest and most authentic fashion.

The ee Loci, the Chevalier himself, was not. the
last to welcome this prime stay and ornament of his
establishment. He eame shuffling forward with a hun-
dred apish congés oad chers milors, to express his happi-
ness at seeing Lord Dalgarno again— J Jone yen do
bring back the sun with you, milor—You did carry away
the sun and moon from your pauvre Chevalier ie you
leave him for so long. Pardieu, I believe you take them
way in your pockets.”

“That must have been because you left me nothing

\}

vise in them, Ch rane, answered Lord Dalgarno; “ but
‘2

‘

Monsieur le Chevalier, I pray you e know my country-
man and friend— Lord ‘Gle nvarloch.’
“Ah, ha! tres hon

Or
eonnu autrefois un Mi

O

s_Je m’en souviens,—oul.  J’ai
lor Kenfarloque en Ecosse. Yes,

 

I have memory of him—le pére de milor ¢
—we were vera intimate when I was at Oly Riso t with
Monsieur de la Motte—I did often play at tennis vit
Milor Kenfarloque at L’Abbaie d@’Oly Root—il étoit méme

nr ° TA 1’ ay {
plus fort que moi.—Ah le beaucoup de revers qu’il avoits

 

NANO > ATTY yj To
—I have memory, too, that he was among the pretty gu rg
—ah. un vrai diable déchainé—Aha, T have memory’-—-—Mbt S.= tats

a aan

250 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

“Better have no more memory of the late Lord Glen-
varloch,” said Lord Dalgarno, interrupting the Chevalier
without ceremony; who perceived that the encomium
which he was about to pass on the deceased was likely to
be as disagreeable to the son, as it was totally undeserved
by the father, who far from being either a gamester or
libertine, as the Chevalier’s reminiscences falsely repre-
sented him, was, on the contrary,-strict and severe in his
course of life, almost to the extent of rigour.

“You have the reason, milor,” answered the Chevalier,
“vou have the right—Qu’est-ce que nous avons a faire

avec le tems passé ?—the time passed did belong to our

 

fathers—our ancétres
us-—they have their pretty tombs, with their memories

very well—the time present is to

and armorials, all in brass and marbre—we have the
petits plats exquis, and the soupe-a-Chevalier, which I
will cause to mount up immediately.”

So saying he made a pirouette on his heel, and put his
attendants in motion to place dinner on the table. Dal-
garno laughed, and, observing his young friend looked
grave, said to him in a tone of reproach— Why, what!
—you are not gull enough to be angry with such an ass
as that?”

“YT keep my anger, I trust, for better purposes,” said
Tord Glegeanioch: “Dut I confess I was moved to hear
such a fellow mention my father’s name

 

and you, too,
who told me this was no ga me Ouet talked to him of
having left it with emptied pockets.’

“Pshaw, man!” said Lord Dalgarno, “I spoke but
according to the trick of the time; besides, a man must
set a piece or two sometimes, or he would be held a cul-
lionly niggard. But Keres comes dinner, and we will see
whether you like the Chevalier’s good cheer better than
his conversation.”THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 251

Dinner was announced accordingly, and the two friends,
being seated in the most honourable station at the board,
were ceremoniously attended to by the Chevalier, who
did the honours of his table to them and to the other
guests, and seasoned the whole with his agreeable conver-
sation. ‘The dinner was really excellent, in that piquant
style of cookery which the French had already introduced,
and which the home-bred young men of England, when
they aspired to the rank of connoisseurs and persons of
taste, were under the necessity of admiring. The wine
was also of the first quality, and circulated in great va-
riety, and no less abundance. ‘The conversation among so
many young men was, of course, light, lively, and amus-
ing; and Nigel, whose mind had been long depressed by
anxiety and misfortune, naturally found himself at ease,
and his spirits raised and animated.

Some of the company had real wit, and could use it
both politely and to advantage; others were coxcombs,
and were laughed at without discovering it; and, again,
others were originals, who seemed to have no objection
that the company should be amused with their folly in-
stead of their wit. And almost all the rest who played
any prominent part in the conversation, had either the
real tone of good society which belonged to the period, or
the jargon which often passes current for its

In-short, the company and conversation was so agree-
able, that Nigel’s rigour was softened by it, even towards
the master of ceremonies, and he listened with patience
to various details which the Chevalier de Beaujeu, seeing,
as he said, that Milor’s, taste lay for the “curieux and
Putile,” chose to address to him in particular, on the sub-

taste

7
t

: dpe i. ae
ject of cookery. To eratify, at the same time the
for antiquity, which he somehow supposed that his newPete De tot SD nant A
CSN TRE | Otc Ot

D552 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

guest possessed, he launched out in commendation of the
great artists of former days, particularly one whem he
had known in his youth, “ Maitre de Cuisine to the Mar-
échal Strozzi—trés bon gentilhomme pourtant;” whe
had maintained his master’s table with twelve covers
every day during the long and severe blockade of le
petit Leyth, although he had nothing better to place on it
than the quarter of a carrion-horse now and then, and the
grass and weeds that grew on the ramparts. “ Despar-
dieux c’étoit un homme superbe! With on tistle-head, and
a nettle or two, he could make a soupe for twenty guests
—an haunch of a little puppy-dog made a roti des plus
excellens ; but his coup de maitre was when the rendition
—what you call the surrender, took place and.appened ;
and then, dieu me damme, he made out of the hind
quarter of one salted horse, forty-five couverts; that the
English and Scottish officers and nobility, who had the
honour to dine with Monseigneur upon the rendition,
could not tell what the devil any one of them were made
upon at all.” *

The good wine had by this time gone so merrily round,
and had such genial effect on the guests, that those of the
lower end of the table, who had hitherto been listeners,
began, not greatly to their own credit, or that of the
ordinary, to make innovations.

* The exertion of French ingenuity mentioned in the text is noticed
by some authorities of the period; the siege of Leith was also distin-
guished by the protracted obstinacy of the besieged, in which was
displayed all that the age possessed of defensive war, so that Brantome
records that those who witnessed this siege, had, from that very circum-
stance, a degree of consequence yielded to their persons and opinions.
He tells a story of Strozzi himself, from which it appears that his
jests lay a good deal inthe line of the cwisine. He caused a mule to
be stolen from one Brusquet, on whom he wished to play a trick, and
served up the flesh of that unclean animal so well disguised, that if
passed with Brusquet for venison.THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 233

“You speak of the siege of Leith,” said a tall, raw-
boned man, with thick mustaches turned up with a mili-
tary twist, a broad buff belt, a long rapier, and other
outward symbols of ae honoured prot ession, which lives
by killing ‘other people,—* you talk of the siege of Leith,
and I have seen the place—a pretty kind of a hamlet it
is, With a plain wall, or rampart, and a pigeon-house or so
of a tower at every angle. Uds daggers and scabbards,
if a leaguer of our days had been twenty-four hours, not
to say so many months, before it, without carrying the
place and all its cocklofts, one after another, by pure
storm, they would have deserved no better grace than the
provost-Marshal gives when his noose is reeved.”

“ Saar,” said the Chevalier, “ Monsieur le Capitaine, I
vas not at the siege of the petit Leyth, and I know not
what you say about the cockloft; but 1 will say for Mon-
seigneur de Strozzi, that he understood the grand guerre,
plus grand—that is more great,

 

and was grand capitaine
it may be, than some of the capitaines of Angleterre, who
do speak very loud—tenez, Monsieur, car c’est & vous!”
“Q Monsieur,” answered the swordsman, “we know
the Frenchman will fight well behind his barrier of stone,
or when he is armed with back, breast, and pot.”
ee Pot)” exclaimed the Chevalier, “what do you mean
by plete ie mean to insult me among my noble

guests ? Saar, I have done my duty as a pauvre oe

homme ae the Grand Henri Quatre, both at Courtra

and Yvry, ind, ventre saint gris | we had neither pot nor

marmite, but did always charge in our shirt.”
“ Which refutes another base scandal,” said Lord Dal-
“alleging ae linen was scarce among

parno, laughing, leging
the French gentlemen-at- arms.’

“ Gentlemen out at arms and elbows both, you mean,eee

a eT

supine

   
   
 
 
    
   
 
  
 
 
 
   

7 SR 2 i sl 8
Be tne 5

 

SE eR FER = scomepeemeriaetien

icine

 

WAVERLEY NOVELS.

my lord,” said the captain, from the bottom of the table
“Craving your lordship’s pardon, I do know something
of these same gens-d’armes.”

“We will spare your knowledge at present, captain,
and save your modesty at the same time the trouble of
telling us how that knowledge was acquired,’ answered
Lord Dalgarno, rather contemptuotsly.

“T need not speak of it, my lord,” said the man of
all, perhaps, but the men of

 

war; “the world knows it
mohair—the poor sneaking citizens of London, who would
see a man of valour eat his very hilts for hunger, ere they
would draw a farthing from their long purses to relieve
them. O, if a band of the honest fellows I have seen
were once to come near that cuckoo’s nest of theirs!”

“A cuckoo’s nest !—and that said of the city of Lon-
don!” said a gallunt who sat on the opposite side of the
table, and: who, wearing a splendid and fashionable dress,
seemed yet scarce at home in it—“I will not brook to
hear that repeated.” *

* This quarrel between the pretended captain and the citizen of
London, is taken from a burlesque poem called The Counter Scuffle,
that is, the Scuffle in the Prison at»Wood Street, so called. It isa
piece of low humour, which had at the time very considerable vogue.
The prisoners, it seems, had fallen into a dispute amongst themselves
“which calling was of most repute,”’ and a lawyei put in his claim to
be most highly considered. The man of war repelled hisepretence
with much arrogance :—

** Wer’t not for us, thou swad,’ quoth he,
‘Where wouldst thou fay to get a fee?
But to defend such things as thee

> Tis pity;
For such as you esteem us least,
Who ever have been ready prest
To guard you and your cu>2koo’s nest,
The City ’THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 25d

a 7, Se ' 995 Seay oe ° ° ore
What!” said the soldier, bending a most. terrific

Om
oS
frown from a pair of broad black eyebrows, handling the
hilt of his weay

yt re 1a } Yr FH age O71 rm "
other his huge mustaches; “will you: quarrel for your

on with one hand, and twirling with the

city?”

* Ay, marry, will 5” replied-the other.“ "Lame
eitizen, I care not who knows it; and he.who shall speak
a werd in dispraise of the city, is an ass and a peremp-
tory gull, and I will break his pate, to teach him sense and
manners.”

The company, who probably had their reasons for’ not

valuing the captain’s courage at the high rate which- he
himself put upon it, were much entertained at the manner

in which the quarrel was taken up by the indignant

The offence is no sooner given than it is caught up by a gallant
vitizen, a goldsmith, named Ellis.

‘<< Of London city I am free,
And there I first my wife did see,
And for that very cause,’ said he,

‘T love it.

And he that calls it cuckoo’s nest,
Except he say he speaks in jest,
He is a villain and a beast,—

I'll prove it!

For though I am a man of trade,

And free of London city made,

Yet can I use gun, bill, and blade,
In battle.

And citizens, if need require,
Themselves can force the foe retire,
Whatever this low country squire

Maj prattle.’”

The-dispute terminates in the scuffle, which is the subject of the
poem. The whole may be found in the second edition of Dryden's

Miscellany, 12mo. vol. ii. 1716.ee

et teertcn pe sat

 

 

ie

256 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

citizen; and they exclaimed on all sides, “ Well rung,
Bow-bell!”--“ Well crowed, the cock of St. Paul’s!”—
“Sound a charge there, or the soldier will mistake his
signals, and retreat when he should advance.”

“ You mistake me, gentlemen,” said the captain, look-
ing round with an air of dignity. “I will but inguire
whether this cavaliero citizen is of rank and degree fitted
to measure swords with a man of action; (for, conceive
me, gentlemen, it is not with every one that I can match
nyself without loss of reputation;) and in that case he
shall soon hear from me honourably, by way of cartel.”

“You shall feel me most dishonourably in the way of
cudgel,” said the citizen, starting up, and taking his
sword, which he had laid in a corner. “ Follow me.”

“It is my right to name the place of combat, by all the
rules of the sword,” said the captain; “and I do nomi-
nate the Maze, in Tothill-fields, for place
men, who shall be indifferent judges, for witnesses ;-—

 

two gentle-

and for time

 

let me say this day fortnight, at daybreak.

“And I,” said the citizen, “do nominate the bowling-
alley behind the house for place, the present good com-
pany for witnesses, and for time the present moment.”

So saying, he cast on his beaver, struck the soldier
across the shoulders with his sheathed swo1 ‘d, and rap
down stairs. The captain showed no instant alacrity to
follow him; yet, at last, roused by the laugh and sneer
around him, he assured the comp: ny, that what he did,
he would do deliberately, and, assuming his hat, which he
put on with the air of Ancient Pistol, he descended the
stairs to the place of combat, where his more prompt ad-
versary was already stationed, with his sword unsheathed.
Of the company, all of whom seemed highly delighted

with the approaching fray, some ran to the windowsTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 257

which overlooked the bowling-alley, and others followed
the combatants down stairs. N igel could not help asking
Dalgarno whether he would not interfere to prevent mis-
chinf.

“It would be a crime against the public interest,” an-
swered his friend; “there can no mischief happen between
two such originals, which will not be a positive benefit to
society, and particularly to the Chevalier’s establishment
as he calls it. JI have been as sick of that captain’s buff

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}

belt, and red doublet, for this month past, as e’er I was
of aught; and now I hope this bold linendraper will
cudgel the ass out of that filthy lion’s hide. See, Nigel,
see the gallant citizen has ta’en his ground about a bowl’s-
east forward, in the midst 0. the alley—the very model
of a hog in armour. Behold how he prances with his
manly foot, and brandishes his blade, much as if he were
about to measure forth cambric with it—See, they bring
on the reluctant soldado, and plant him opposite to his
fiery antagonist, twelve paces still dividing them—Lo,
the captain draws his tool, but, like a good general, looks
over his shoulder to secure his retreat, in case the worst
come on’t.—Behold the valiant shopkeeper stoops his
head, confident, doubtless, in the civic helmet with which
his spouse has fortified his skull—Why, this is the rarest
of sport. By Heaven, he will run a tilt at him like a
ram.”

It was even as Lord Dalgarno had anticipated ; for the
citizen, who seemed quite serious in his zeal for combat,
perceiving that the man of war did not advance towards
nim, rushed onwards with as much good fortune as courage,
heat down the Captain’s guard, and, pressing on, thrust,
us it seemed, his sword clear through the body of his
untagonist, who, with a deep groan, measured his length

woL. XXVU. 17iaencnaices

Pie Eas et

 

5 ea aise

“tee eater

258 WAVERLEY NOVELS.
on the yround. A score of voices cried to the conqueror

as he stood fixed in astonishment at his own feat, “ Away,
away with you !|—fly, fly—fly by the back door !—get
into the Whitefriars, or cross the water to the Bankside,
while we keep off the mob and the constables.” And the
conqueror, leaving his vanquished foeman on the ground,
fled accordingly, with all speed. ;

“By Heaven,” said Lord Dalgarno, “I could never
have believed that the fellow would have stood to receive
a thrust—he has certainly been arrested by positive
terror, and lost the use of his limbs. See, they are
raising him.”

Stiff and stark seemed the corpse of the swordsman, as
one or two of the guests raised him from the ground ;
but, when they began to open his waistcoat to search for
the wound which nowhere existed, the man of war
collected his scattered spirits, and, conscious that the
Ordinary was no longer a stage on which to display his
valour, took to his heels as fast as he could run, pursued
by the laughter and shouts of the company.

“ By my honour,” said Lord Dalgarno, “he takes the
same course with his conqueror. I trust in heaven he
will overtake him, and then the valiant citizen will sup-
pose himself haunted by the ghost of him he has slain.”

“ Despardieux, milor,” said the Chevalier, “if he had
stayed one moment, he should have had a torehon—what
you call a dishclout, pinned to him for a piece of shroud,
to show he be de ghost of one grand fanfaron.”

“In the meanwhile,” said Lord Dalgarno, “you will
oblige us, Monsieur le Chevalier, as well as maintain
your own honoured reputation, by letting your drawers
receive the man-at-arms with a cudgel, in case he should
venture to come this way again.” |THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 259

“Ventre saint gris, milor,” said the Chevalier » “leave
that to me.—Begar, the maid shall throw the wash-sud
upon the grand poltron!”

When they had laughed sufliciently at this ludicrous
occurrence, the party began to divide themselves into
little knots—some took possession of the alley, late the
scene of combat, and put the field to its proper use of a
bowling-ground, and it soon resounded with all the terms
of the game, as “ Run, run—rub, rub—hold bias, you
infernal trundling timber!” thus making good the saying
that three things are thrown away in a bowling-green,
namely, time, money, and oaths.

In the house, many of the gentlemen betook themselves
to cards or dice, and parties were formed at Ombre, at
Basset, at Gleek, at Primero, and other games then in
fashion ; while the dice were used at various games, both
with and without the tables, as Hazard, In-and-in, Pas-
sage, and so forth. ‘The play, however, did not appear
to be extravagantly deep; it was certainly conducted
with great decorum and fairness; nor did there appear
anything to lead the younger Scotsman in the least
to doubt his companion’s assurance, that the place was
frequented by men of rank and quality, and that the
recreations they adopted were conducted upon honourable
principles.

Lord Dalgarno neither had proposed play to his friend,
nor joined in the amusement himself, but sauntered from
one table to another, remarking the luck of the different
players, as well as their capacity to avail themselves of
it, and exchanging conversation with the highest and
most respectable of the guests. At length, as if ured of
what in modern phrase would have been termed loung-
ing, he suddenly remembered that Burbage was to acteDiets

i eA,
RE. Raney eee

“28 wham ar ree

ee ae SRR FT eet

260 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

Shakspeare’s King Richard, at the Fortune, that. after
noon, and that he could not give a stranger in London,
like Lord Glenvarloch, a higher entertainment than te
carry him to that exhibition; “ unless, indeed,” he added,
in a whisper, “there is a paternal interdiction of the
theatre as well as of the ordinary.”

“TI never heard my father speak of stage plays,

” said
Lord Glenvarloch, “for they are shows of a modern date,
and unknown in Scotland. Yet, if what I have heard to
their prejudice be true, I doubt much whether he would
have approved of them.”

“Approved of them!” exclaimed Lord Dalgarno—
“why, George Buchanan wrote tragedies, and his pupil,
learned and wise as himself, goes to see them, so it is
next door to treason to abstain; and the cleverest men in
England write for the stage, and the prettiest women in
London. resort to the playhouses, and I have a brace of
nags at the door which will carry us along the streets
like wildfire, and the ride will digest our venison and
ortolans, and dissipate the fumes of the wine, and $0 let's
Godden to you, gentlemen—Godd’en, Che-
valier de la Fortune.”

to horse

 

Lord Dalgarno’s grooms were in attendance with two
horses, and the young men mounted, the proprietor upon
a favourite barb, and Nigel upon a high-dressed jennet,
searce less beautiful. As they rode towards the theatre,
Lord Dalgarno endeavoured to discover his friend’s
opinion of the company to which he had introduced him,
and to combat the exceptions which he might suppose
him to have taken. “And wherefore lookest thou sac A
he said, “my pensive neophyte? Sage son of the Alma
Mater of Low-Dutch learning, what aileth thee? Is the
leaf of the living world which we have turned over is:THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 261

company, less fairly written than thou hadst been taught
to expect? Be comforted, and pass over one little blot
or two; thou wilt be doomed to read through many a
a page, as black as Infamy, with her sooty pinion, can
make them. Remember, most immaculate Nigel, that
we are in London, not Leyden—that we are studying
life, not lore. Stand buff against the reproach of thine
over-tender conscience, man, and when thou summest
up, like a good arithmetician, the actions of the day,
before you balance the account upon your pillow, tell the
accusing spirit, to his brimstone beard, that if thine ears
have heard the clatter of the devil’s bones, thy hand hath
not trowled them—that if thine eye hath seen the brawling
of two angry boys, thy blade hath not been bared in their
fray.”

“Now all this may be wise and witty,’
“yet I own I cannot think but that your lordship, and
other men of good quality with whom we dined, might

3

replied Nigel ;

have chosen a place of meeting free from the intrusion
of bullies, and a better master of your ceremonial than.
yonder foreign adventurer.”

“All shall be amended, Sancte Nigelle, when thou shalt
come forth a new Peter the Hermit, to preach a crusade
against dicing, drabbing, and company-keeping. We
will meet for dinner in Saint Sepulchre’s Church; we
will dine in the chancel, drink our flask in the vestry,
the parson shall draw every cork, and the clerk say amen
to every health. Come, man, cheer up, and get rid of
this sour and unsocial humour. Credit me, that the
Puritans who object to us the follies and the frailties
incident to human nature, have themselves the vices of
absolute devils, privy malice and backbiting hypocrisy,
and spiritual pride in all its presumption. There is* c ay toa
Raa PPT nse ema

caus jail

a

“SEY ies Seem

062 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

much, too, in life which we must see, were it only to
Jearn to shun it. Will Shakspeare, who lives after death,
and who is presently to afford thee such pleasure as none
but himself *can confer, has described the gallant Falcon-
bridge as cailing that man

———‘a bastard to the time,
That doth not smack of observation;
Which, though I will not practise to deceive,
Yet, to avoid deceit, I mean to learn.’

But here we are at the door of the Fortune, where we
shall have matchless Will speaking for himself.—Gobhn,
and you other lout, leave the horses to the grooms, and
make way for us through the press.”

They dismounted, and the assiduous efforts of Lutin,
elbowing, bullying, and proclaiming his master’s name
and title, made way through a crowd of murmuring
citizens, and clamorous apprentices, to the door, where
Lord Dalgarno speedily procured a brace of stools upon
the stage for his companion and himself, where, seated
among other gallants of the same class, they had an op-
portunity of displaying their fair dresses and fashionable
manners, while they criticised the piece during its pro-
gress; thus forming, at the same time, a conspicuous
part of the spectacle, and an important proportion of the
audience.

Nigel Olifaunt was too eagerly and deeply absorbed in
the interest of the scene, to be capable of playing his part
as became the place where he was seated. He felt all
the magic of that sorcerer, who had displayed, within the
paltry circle of a wooden booth, the long wars of York
and Lancaster, compelling the heroes of either line te
stalk across the scene in language and fashion +as theyTHE FORTUNES OF NIGWL. 263

lived, as if the grave had given up the dead for the
amusement and instruction of the living. Burbage,*
esteemed the best Richard until Garrick arose, played
the tyrant and usurper with such truth and liveliness,
that when the Battle of Bosworth seemed concluded by
his death, the ideas of reality and deception were strongly
contending in Lord Glenvarloch’s imagination, and it
required him to rouse himself from his reverie, so strangé
did the proposal at first sound when his companion de-
elared King Richard should sup with them at the Mer-
maid.

They were joined, at the same time, by a small party
of the gentlemen with whom they had dined, which they
recruited by inviting two or three of the most accom-
plished wits and poets, who seldom failed to attend the
Fortune Theatre, and were even but too ready to con-
clude a day of amusement with a night of pleasure.
Thither the whole party adjourned, and betwixt fertile

* Burbage, whom Camden terms another Roscius, was probably the
original representative of Richard III., and seems to have been early
almost identified with his prototype. Bishop Corbet, in his Iter
Boreale, tells us that mine host of Market Bosworth was full of ale
and history.

‘‘ Hear him, See you yon wood? There Richard lay
With his whole army; look the other way,
And lo, where Richmond, in a field of gorse,
Encamp’d himself in might and all his force.
Upon this hill they met. Why, he could tell
The inch where Richmond stood, where Richard fell.
Besides, what of his knowledge he could say,
He had authentie notice from the play,
Which I might guess by ’s mustering up the ghosts
And policies not incident to hosts,
But chiefly by that one perspicuous thing,
Where he mistook a player for a king,
For when he would have said, that Richard died,

. And call’d, a horse! a horse! he Burbage cried.”

Ricuarp Corser’s PeMs, Edition 1816, p. 198.264 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

cups of sack, excited spirits, and the emulous wit of their
lively companions, seemed to realize the joyous boast of
one of Ben Jonson’s contemporaries, when reminding the
bard of

“ Those lyric feasts,
Where men such clusters had,
As made them nobly wild, not mad;
While yet each verse of thine
Qutdid the meat, outdid the frolic wine.”THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL.

CHAPTER XIII.

Let the proud salmon gorge the feather’d hook,
Then strike, and then you have him—He will wince ;
Spin out your line that it shall whistle from you
Some twenty yards or so, yet you shall have him—
Marry! you must have patience—the stout rock
Which is his trust, hath edges something sharp;
And the deep pool hath ooze and sludge enough

To mar your fishing—’less you are more careful.

ALBION, OR THE DouUBLE Kings.

Ir is seldom that a day of pleasure, upon review,
s¢ems altogether so exquisite as the partaker of the
festivity may have felt it while passing over him. Nigel
Olifaunt, at least, did not feel it so, and it required a visit
from his new acquaintance, Lord Dalgarno, to reconcile
him entirely to himself. But this visit took place early
after breakfast, and his friend’s discourse was prefaced
with a question, “ How he liked the company of the pre-
ceding tvening ?”

“Why, excellently well,’ said Lord Glenvarloch ;
“only I should have liked the wit better had it seemed
to flow more freely. Every man’s invention seemed on
the stretch, and each extravagant simile seemed to set
one half of your men of wit into a brown study to pro-
duce something which should out-herod it.”

“And wherefore not?” said Lord Dalgarno, “or what are
these fellows fit for, but to play the intellectual gladiators
before us? He of them who declares himself recreant,mop

266 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

shonld, d—n him, be restricted to muddy ale, and the
patronage of the waterman’s company. J promise you
that many a pretty fellow has been mortally wounded
with a quibble or a carwitchet at the Mermaid, and sent
from thence, in a pitiable estate, to Wit’s Hospital in the
Vintry, where they languish to this day amongst fools
and aldermen.”

“Tt may be so,” said Lord Nigel; “ yet I could swear
by my honour, that last night I seemed to be in company
with more than one man whose genius and learning ought
ether to have placed him higher in our company, or ta
have withdrawn him altogether from a scene, where, sooth
to speak, his part seemed unworthily subordinate.”

“ Now, out upon your tender conscience,” said Lord
Dalgarno ; “arid the fico for such outcasts of Parnassus!
Why, these are the very leavings of that noble banquet
of pickled herrings and Rhenish, which lost London se
many of her principal wit-mongers and bards of misrule.
What would you have said had you seen Nash or Green,
when you interest yourself about the poor mimes you
supped with last night? Suffice it, they had their drench
and their doze, and they drank and slept as much as may
save them from any necessity of eating till evening,
when, if they are industrious, they will find patfons or
players to feed them.* For the rest of their wants, they

* The condition 6f men of wit and talents was never more melan-
tholy than about this period. Their lives were so irregular, and their
means of living so precarious, that they were alternately rioting in
debauchery, or encountering and struggling with the meanest necessi-

Cas

ties. Two or three lost their lives by a surfeit brought on by that
fatal banquet of Rhenish wine and pickled herrings, which is familiar
to those who study the lighter literature of thatage. The whole his-
tory is a most melancholy picture of genius, degraded at once by its

rwn debaucheries and the patronage of heartless rakes and profligates.THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 267

ran be at no loss for cold water while the New River
head holds good; and your doublets-of Parnassus are
eternal in duration.” 3

“ Virgil and Horace had more efficient patronage,” said
Nigel.

“Ay,” replied his countryman, “but these fellows are
neither Virgil nor Horace ; besides, we have other spirits
of another sort, to whom I will introduce you on some
early occasion. Our Swan of Avon hath sung his last ;
but we have stout old Ben, with as much learning and
genius as ever prompted the treader of sock and buskin.
It is not, however, of him I mean now to speak; but T
vome to pray you, of dear love, to row up with me as far
as Richmond, where two or three of the gallants whom
you saw yesterday, mean to give music and syllabubs to
a set of beauties, with some curious bright eyes among
them—such, I promise you, as might win an astrologer
from his worship of the galaxy. My sister leads the
bevy, to whom I desire to present you. She hath her
admirers at court; and is regarded, though I might dis-
pense with sounding her praise, as one of the beauties of
the time.”

There was no refusing an engagement, where the pres-
ence of the party invited, late so low in his own regard,
was demanded by a lady of quality, one of the choice
beauties of the time. Lord Glenvarloch accepted, as was
inevitable, and spent a lively day among the gay and the
fair. He was the gallant in attendance, for the day, upon
his friend’s sister, the beautiful Countess of Blackchester,
who aimed at once at superiority in the realms of fashion.
of power, and of wit.

She was, indeed, considerably older than her brother.
and had probably completed her six lustres; but the defi-“oh pI FE ro

268 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

siency in extreme youth was more than atoned for, in the
most precise and curious accuracy in attire, an early ac-
guaintance with every foreign mode, and a peculiar gift
in adapting the knowledge which she acquired to her own
particular features and complexion. At court, she knew
as well as any lady in the circle, the precise tone, moral,
pulitical, learned, or jocose, in which it was proper to
answer the Monarch, according to his prevailing humour ;
and was supposed to have been very active, by her per-
sonal interest, in procuring her husband a high situation,
which the gouty old viscount could never have deserved
by any merit of his own commonplace conduct and under:
standing.

It was far more easy for this lady than for her brother,
to reconcile so young a courtier as Lord Glenvarloch to
the customs and habits of a sphere so newto him. In all
civilized society, the females of distinguished rank and
beauty give the tone to manners, and, through these, even
to morals. Lady Blackchester had, .besides, interest
either in the Court, or over the Court, (for its source
could not be well traced,) which created friends, and
overawed those who might have been disposed to play
the part of enemies.

At one time, she was understood to be closely leagued
with the Buckingham family, with whom her brother still
maintained a great intimacy; and, although some cold-
ness had taken place betwixt the Countess and the Duch-
ess of Buckingham, so that they were little seen together,
and the former seemed considerably to have withdrawn
herself into privacy, it was whispered, that Lady Black:
vhester’s interest with the great favourite was not dimin
ished in consequence of her breach with his lady.

Qur accounts of the private Court intrigues of thatTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 269

«period, and of the persons to whom they were intrusted,
are not full enough to enable us to pronounce upon the
various reports which arose out of the circumstances we
have detailed. It is enough to say, that Lady Black-
chester possessed great influence on the circle around her,
both from her beauty, her ‘abilities, and her reputed tal-
ents for Court intrigue ; and that Nigel Olifaunt was not
long of experiencing its power, as he became a slave in
some degree to that species of habit, which carries so
many men into a certain society at a certain hour, without
expecting or receiving any particular degree of gratifica-
tion, or even amusement.

His life for several weeks may be thus described. The
ordinary was no bad introduction to the business of the
day: and the young lord quickly found, that if the society
there was not always irreproachable, still it formed the
most convenient and. agreeable place of meeting with the
fashionable parties, with whom he visited Hyde Park, the
theatres, and other places of public: resort, or joined the
gay and glittering circle which Lady Blackchester had
assembled around her. Neither did he entertain the
same scrupulous horror which led him originally even to
hesitate entering into a place where gaming was permit-
ted; but, on the contrary, began to admit the idea, that
as there could be no harm in beholding such recreation
when only indulged in to a moderate degree, so, from a
parity of reasoning, there could be no objection to joining
in it, always under the same restrictions. But the young
lord was a Scotsman, habituated to early reflection, and
totally unaccustomed to any habit. which inferred a care-
less risk or profuse waste of money. Profusion was not
his natural vice, or one likely to be acquired in the course
of his education; and in all probability, while his fatherAn OR TREE

270 WAVERLEY. NOVELS.

anticipated with noble horror the idea of his son appreach-*
ing the garning-table. he was more startled at the idea of
his becoming a gaining than a losing adventurer. The
second, according to his principles, had a termination, a
sad one, indeed, in the loss of temporal fortune—the first
quality went on increasing the evil which he dreaded, and
perilled at once both body and soul.

However the old lord might ground his apprehension,
it was so far verified by his son’s conduct, that, from an
observer of the various games of chance which he wit-
nessed, he came, by degrees, by moderate hazards, and
small bets or wagers, to take a certain interest in them.
Nor could it be denied, that his rank and expectations
entitled him to hazard a few pieces (for his game went no
deeper) against persons, who, from the readiness with
which they staked their money, might be supposed well
able to afford to lose it. :

It chanced, or, perhaps, according to the common: be-
lief, his evil genius had so decreed, that Nigel’s adven-
tures were remarkably successful. He was temperate,
cautious, cool-headed, had a strong memory, and a ready
power of calculation ; was, besides, of a daring and
intrepid character, one upon whom no one that had
looked even slightly, or spoken to though but hastily,
would readily have ventured to practise any thing ap-
proaching to trick, or which required to be supported by
intimidation. While Lord Glenvarloch chose to play,
men played with him regularly, or, according to the
phrase, upon the square; and, as he found his luck
change, or wished to hazard his good fortune no farther,
the more professed votaries of fortune, who frequented
the house of Monsieur le Chevalier de Saint Priest
Beaujeu, did not venture openly to express their displeas-THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. VT1

ure at his risimg a winner. But when this happened re-
peatedly, the gamesters murmured amongst themselves
equally at the caution and the success of the young Scots-
man; and he became far from being a popular character
among their society.

It was no slight inducement to the continuance of this
most evil habit, when it was once in some degree acquired,
that it seemed to place Lord Glenvarloch, haughty as he
naturally was, beyond the necessity of subjecting himself
to farther pecuniary obligations, which his prolonged res-
idence in London must otherwise have rendered neces-
sary. He had to solicit from the ministers certain forms
of office, which were to render his sign-manual effectually
useful ; and these, though they could not be denied, were
delayed in such a manner, as to lead Nigel to believe
there was some secret opposition, which occasioned the
demur in his business. His own impulse was, to have
appeared at Court a second time, with the King’s sign-
manual in his pocket, and to have appealed to his Majesty
himself, whether the delay of the public officers ought to
render his royal generosity unavailing. But the Lord
Huntinglen, that good old peer, who had so frankly ‘nter-
fered in his behalf on a former occasion, and whom he
occasionally visited, greatly dissuaded him from a similar
adventure, and exhorted him quietly to await the deliver-
ance of the ministers, which should set him free from
dancing attendance in London.

Lord Dalgarno joined his father in deterring his young
fiend from a second attendance at Court, at least till he
was reconciled with the Duke of Buckingham—“ a matter
in: which,” he said, addressing his father, “I have offered
my poor assistance, without being able to prevail on Lord
Nigel to make any—not even the least—submission to
the Duke of Buckingham.”Tike ee

sper Esenenes ae TEES RT Oa

202 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

“ By my faith, and I hold the laddie to be in the right
on’t, Malcolm!” answered the stout old Scots lord.—
“What right hath Buckingham, or, to speak plainly, the
son of Sir George Villiers, to expect homage and fealty
from one more noble than himself, by eight quarters? J
heard him myself, on no reason that I could perceive.
term Lord Nigel his enemy ; and it will never be by my
counsel that the lad speaks soft word to him, till he recalls
the hard one.”

“That is precisely my advice to Lord Glenvarloch,”
nnswered Lord Dalgarno; “but then you will admit, my
dear father, that it would be the risk of extremity for our
friend to return into the presence, the Duke being his
enemy—better to leave it with me to take off the heat of
the distemperature, with which some pick-thanks have
persuaded the Duke to regard our friend.”

“Tf thou canst persuade Buckingham of his error,
Malcolm,” said his father, “for once I will say there hath
been kindness and honesty in Court service. I have oft
told your sister and yourself, that in the general I esteem
it as lightly as may be.”

“You need not doubt my doing my best in Nigel’s
case,” answered Lord Dalgarno ; “but you must think,
my dear father, I must needs use slower and gentler
means than those by which you became a favourite
twenty years ago.”

“By my faith, I am afraid thou ‘wilt,’ answered _ his
vather.—“T tell thee, Malcolm, I would sooner wish my-
self in the grave, than doubt tl

ume honesty or honour ;
yet somehow it hath chance

d, that honest, ready service,
hath not the same acceptance at Court which it had in
my younger time—and yet you rise there.” ”

“Qh, the time permits not your old-world

 

service,”THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 273

said Lord Dalgarno; “we have now no daily insurrec-
fons, no rightly attempts at assassination, as were the
fashion in the Scottish Court. Your prompt and uncour-
teous sword-in-hand attendance on the Sovereign is no
longer necessary, and would be as unbeseeming as your
old-fashioned-serving-men, with their badges, broadswords,
and bucklers, would be at a court-masque. Besides,
father, loyal haste hath its inconveniences. I have heard,
and from royal lips too, that when you struck your dagger
into the traitor Ruthven, it was with such little consider-
ation, that the point ran a quarter of an inch into the
royal buttock. The Kine never talks of it but he rubs
the injured part, and quotes his ‘infandwm - - - - reno-
vare dolorem. But this comes of old fashions, and of
wearing a long Liddesdale whinger, instead of a poniard
of Parma. Yet this, my dear father, you call prompt
and valiant service. The King, [I am told, could not sit
upright for a fortnight, though all the cushions in Falk-
land were placed in his chair of state, and the Provost of
Dunfermline’s borrowed to the boot of all.”

“Tt is a lie,” said the old Earl, “a false lie, forge it
who list!—It is true I wore a dagger of service by my
side, and not a bodkin like yours, to pick one’s teeth
withal—and for prompt service—Odds nouns ;~it should
be prompt to be useful, when kings are crying treason
and murder with the screech of a half-throttled hen. But
you young courtiers know nought of these matters, and
are little better than the green geese they bring over from
the Indies, whose only merit to their masters is to repeat
a pack of mouthers, and

 

their own words after them
flatterers, and ear-wigs.— Well, I am old, and unable to
mend, else I would break all off, and hear the Tay once
more flinging himself over the Campsie Linn.”

VOL. XX VII. 18NR ORRIN TER ne

WAVERLEY NOVELS.

‘‘ But there is your dinner-bell, father,” said Lord Dal
garno, “ which, if the venison a sent you prove season:
able, is at least as sweet a sound.’

“ Follow me, then, youngsters, if you list,” said the old

Earl; and strode on from the alcove in which this con-

versation was held, towards the hou , followed by the
two young men.
In their private discourse, Lord Dalgarno had little

trouble in dissuading Nigel from going immediately to

sr

sa eee
Court; while, on the other hand, the offers made him

ie
of a previous introduction to the Duke of Buckingham,
were received by Lord Glenvarloch with a positive and
-d his shoulders,
as one who claims the merit of having given to an
obstinate friend the best counse l, and desires to be held

free of the consequences

contemptuous refusal. His friend shruc ox

er
55!

yt his pertinac ity

a

As for the father, his table indeed, and his best liquor,
uf which. he was more profu

than necessary, were at

the command of his young triend, as well as

his best
advice and assistance in the prosecution of his affairs.
But Lord Huntinglen’s interest was more apparent than

eal; and the credit he had acquired by his gallant

UL Wy
defence of the Kino’s person was so carelessly managed

by himself, and so easily eluded by the favourites and
ministers of the Sovereign, that, except upon one or two
occasions, when the King was in some measure taken
by surprise,as in the case of Lord Glenvarloch, the
royal bounty was never efficiently extended, either to
himself or to his friends.

“There never was a man,”

shrewder knowledge of the

Xv 4 }

said Lord Dalgarno, whose
> EK ngiish Court
father’s deficiency lay, “that. ] had

power to have made his way

saw where his
perfectly in his
to the pinnacle of fortunep

THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL.

a)

(3

as my poor father. He had acquired a right to build up
the staircase, step by step, slowly and surely, letting every
boon, which he begged year after year, become in its
turn the resting-place for the next annual grant. But
your fortunes shall not shipwreck upon the same coast,
Nigel,’ he would conclude. “If I have fewer means of
influence than my father has, or rather had, till he threw
them away for butts of sack, hawks, hounds, and such
carrion, I can, far better than he, improve that which I
possess; and that, my dear Nigel, is all engaged in your
behalf. Do not be surprised or offended that you now
see me less than formerly. The stag-hunting is com-
menced, and the Prince looks that I should attend him
more frequently. I must also maintain my attendance on
the Duke, that I may have an opportunity of pleading
your cause when occasion shall permit.”

“TY have no cause to plead before the Duke,” said
Nigel, gravely ; “ I have said so repeatedly.”

“ Why, I meant the phrase no otherwise, thou churlish
and suspicious disputant,” answered Dalgarno, “than as I
am now pleading the Duke’s cause with thee. Surely I
only mean to claim a share in our royal master’s favourite
benediction, Beat? pacifict.”

Upon several occasions, Lord Glenvarloch’s conversa-
tions, both with the old Earl and his son, took a similar
turn, and had a like conclusion. He sometimes felt as if,
betwixt the one and the other, not to mention the more
unseen and unboasted, but scarce less certain influence of
Lady Blackchester, his affair, simple as it had become,
might have been somehow accelerated. But it was equal-
ty impossible to doubt the rough honesty of the father,
and the eager and officious friendship of Lord Dalgarno ;
nor was it easy to suppose that the countenance of theAOR =

Soe eee

 

276 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

lady, by whom he was received with such distinction,
would be wanting, could it be effectual in his service.

Nigel was farther sensible of the truth of what Lord
Dalgarno often pointed out, that the favourit e being
supposed to be his enemy, every petty officer, through
vlidse hands his affair must sees pass, would desire
to make a merit of throwing obstacles in his way, which
be could only surmount by steadiness and patience, unless
he preferred closing the breach, or, as Lord Dalgarno
ealled it, makin ng his peace with the Duke of Bucking-
ham.

Nigel might, and doubtless would, have had recourse
to the advice of his friend Geor ge Heriot upon this occa-
sion, having found it so advanta vgeous formerly; but the
only time he saw him after their visit to Court, he found
the worthy citizen engaged in hasty preparation for a
journey to Paris, upon business of oreat importance in
the way of his profession, and by an especial commission
from the Court and the Duke of Buck; ee which was
likely to be attended with consideq ‘able profit. The good
man smiled as he named the Duke of Bucki ngham. He
had been, he said, pretty sure that his disgrace in that
quarter would not be of long duration.

Lord Glenvarloch ¢ xpressed himself rejoiced at their
reconciliation, observing, that it had been a most painful
reflection to him, that Master Heriot should, in his beh alf,
have incurred the dislike, and perhaps exposed himself to
the ill offices, of so Se a favourite

“ My lord,” said Heriot, “ for your father’ s son I would
ilo much ; and yet truly, if I know myself, I would do as
much and risk as much, for the sake of justice, in the
case of a much more insignificant pel

rson, as I have ven-
tured for yours. But as we

shall not meet for someTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 977

time, I must commit to your own wisdom the farther
prosecution of this matter.”

And thus they took a kind and affectionate leave of
gach other.

There were other changes in Lord Glenvarloch’s situa-
tion, which require to be noticed. His present occupa-
tions, and the habits of amusement which he had acquired,
rendered his living so far in the city a considerable incon-
venience. He may also have become a little ashamed
of his cabin on Paul’s Wharf, and desirous of being
lodged somewhat more according to his quality. For
this purpose he had hired a small apartment near the
Temple. , He was, nevertheless, almost sorry for what he
had done, when he observed that his remo val appeared
to give some pain to John Christie, and a great deal to
his cordial and officious landlady. The former, who was
grave and saturnine in every thing he did, only hoped
that all had been to Lord Glenvarloch’s mind, and that
he had not left them on account of any unbeseeming neg-
ligence on their part. But the tear twinkled in Dame
Nelly’s eye, while she recounted the various improve-
ments she had made in the apartment, of express purpose
to render it more convenient to his lordship.

“There was a great sea-chest,” she said, “had been
taken up stairs to the shopman’s garret, though it left the
poor lad scarce eighteen inches of opening to creep be-
twixt it and his bed; and Heaven knew—she did not—
whether it could ever be brought down that narrow stair
again. Then the turning the closet into an alcove had
vost a matter of twenty round shillings; and to be sure,
to any other lodger but his lordship, the closet was more
convenient. ‘There was all the linen, too, which she had
bought on purpose—but Heaven’s will be done—she waa

resigned.”278 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

Everybody likes marks of personal attachment, and
Nigel, whose heart really smote him, as if in his rising
fortunes he were disdaining the lowly accommodations
and the civilities of the humble friends which had been
but lately actual favours, failed not by every assurance in
his power, and by as liberal payment as they eould be
prevailed upon to accept, to alleviate the soreness of their
feelings at his departure; and a parting kiss from the fair
lips of his hostess sealed his forgiveness.

Richie Moniplies lingered behind his master, to ask
whether, in case of need, John Christie could help a
canny Scotsman to a passage back to his own country ;
and receiving assurance of John’s interest to that effect,
he said at parting, he would remind him of his promise
soon.— For,” said he, “if my lord is not weary of this
London life, I ken one that is, videlicet, mysell; and IT
am weel determined to see Arthur’s Seat again ere 1 am
many weeks older.”THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL.

CHAPTER XIV.

Bingo, why, Bingo! hey, boy—here, sir, here—
He’s gone and off, but he’ll_be home before us
Tis the most wayward cur e’er mumbled bone,
Or dogg’d a master’s footstep.—Bingo loves me
Better than ever beggar loved his alms;

Yet, when he takes such humour, you may coax
Sweet Mistress Fantasy, your worship’s mistress,
Out of her sullen moods, as soon as Bingo.

Tor DOMINIE AND HIS DoG

Ricaie MonIpPLies was as good as his word. ‘T'wo or
three mornings after the young lord had possessed him-
self of his new lodgings, he appeared before Nigel, as he
was prepared to dress, having left his pillow at an hour
much later than had formerly been his custom.

As Nigel looked upon his attendant, he observed there
was a gathering gloom upon his solemn features, which
expressed either additional importance, or superadded
discontent, or a portion of both.

“ How now,” he said, “ what is the matter this morning,
Richie, that you have made your face so like the gro-
tesque mask on one of the spouts yonder?” pouting to
the Temple Church, of which Gothic building they had a
view from the window.

Richie swivelled his head a little to the right with
as little alacrity as if he had the crick in his neck, and
instantly resuming his posture, replied,—* Mask here,
it were nae such matters that 1 have to

 

mask there
speak anent.”oa ‘. — . _ Ane sem a , f RN AD es SPREE £5

280 WAVERLEY NIVELS.

“And what matters have you to speak anent, then?”
said his master, whom circumstances had inured to tol-
erate a good deal of freedom from his attendant.

“My lord,’—said Richie, and then stopped to cough
and hem, as if what he had to say stuck somewhat in his
throat.

“T guess the mystery,” said Nigel, “you want a little
money, Richie ; will five pieces serve the present turn ?”

“ My lord,” said Richie, “I may, it is like, want a trifle
of money; and I am glad at the same time, and SOITY,
that it is mair plenty with your lordship than formerly.”

+

“ Glad and sorry, man!” said Lord Nigel, “ why, you
are reading riddles to me, Richie.”

“ My riddle will be briefly read,” said Richie; “I come
to crave of your lordship your commands for Scotland.”

“For Scotland ! why, art thou mad, man?” said
Nigel; “canst thou not tarry to go down with me?”

“I could be of little service,” said Richie, “since you

 

purpose to hire another page and groom.”

“Why, thou jealous ass,” said the young lord, “ will not
thy load of duty lie the lighter 2—Go, take thy breakfast,
and drink thy ale double strong, to put such absurdities
out of thy head—I could be angry with thee for thy folly,
man—but I remember how thou hast stuck to me in
adversity.”

“ Adversity, my lord, should never have parted us,”
said Richie ; “methinks, had the warst come to warst,
T could have starved as gallantly as your lordship, or
more so, being in some sort used to its tor, though I was
bred at a flesher’s stall, I have not through my life had a
constant intimacy with collops.”

“Now, what is the meaning of all this trash ?” said
Nigel; “or has it no other end than to provoke myTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 281

patienve ? You know well enough, that, had I twenty
serving-men, I would hold the faithful follower that stood
by me in my distress the most valued of them all. But
it is totally out of reason to plague me with your solemn
capriccios.”

“ My lord,” said Richie, “in declaring your trust in me,
you have done what is honourable to yourself, if I may
with humility say so much, and in no way undeserved on
my side. Nevertheless, we must part.”

“ Body of me, man, why?” said Lord Nigel; “ what
reason can there be for it, if we are mutually satisfied ?”

“My lord,” said Richie Moniplies, “ your lordship’s
occupations are such as I cannot own or countenance by
my presence.”

“ How now, sirrah!” said his master, angrily.

“Under favour, my lord,’ replied his domestic, “it is
unequal dealing to be equally offended by my speech and
by my silence. If you can hear with patience the grounds
of my departure, it may be, for aught I know, the better
if not, let me have my

 

for you here and hereafter
license of departure in silence, and so no more about it.”

“Go to, sir!” said Nigel; “speak out your mind—
only remember to whom you speak it.”

“Weel, weel, my lord—I speak it with humility,”
(never did Richie look with more starched dignity than
when he uttered the word ;) “but do you think this dicing
and card-shuffling, and haunting of taverns and _ play-
houses, suits your lordship—for I am sure it does not
suit me?”

“Why, you are not turned precisian or puritan, foo
said Lord Glenvarloch, laughing, though, betwixt resent-
ment and shame, it cost him some trouble to do so.

“My lord,” replied the follower, “I, ken the purport

ieee——

  

WAVERLEY NOVELS.

    
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
  

of your query. Iam, it may be, a little of a precisian,
and I wish to Heaven I was mair worthy of the name;
but let that be a pass-over.—lI have stretched the duties
of a serving-man ‘as far as my northern conscience will
permit. Ican give my gude word to my master, or ta
my native country, when I am in a foreign land, even
though I should leave downright truth a wee bit behind
me. Ay, and I will take or give a slash with ony man
that speaks to the derogation of either. But this cham-
bering, dicing, and play-haunting, is not my element—I
and when I hear of your tord-

 

cannot draw breath in it
ship winning the siller that some poor creature may full
sairly miss—by my saul, if it wad serve your necessity,
rather than you gained it from him, I wad tak a jump
over the hedge with your lordship, and ery ‘Stand!’ to
the first grazier we met that was coming from Smithfield
with the price of his Essex calves in his leathern pouch!”

“You are a simpleton,” said Nigel, who felt, however,
much conscience-struck; “I never play but for small
sums.”

33

“Ay, my lord,” replied the unyielding domestic, “and
el —still with reverence—it is even sae much the waur.
| : If you played with your equals, there might be like sin,
: but there wad be mair warldly honour in it. Your lord-
ship kens, or may ken, by experience of your ain, whilk
is not as yet mony weeks auld, that small sums can ill be
missed by those that have nane larger; and I maun e’en
be plain with you, that men notice it of your lordship,
Ei that ye play wi’ nane but the miseuided creatures that
can but afford to lose bare stakes.”

“No man dare say so!” replied Nigel, very angrily.
| “I play with whom I please, but I will only play for
| i what stake I please.”THE FORTUNES OF NIGUEL. 283

“That is just what they say, my lord,” said the un-
merciful Richie, whose natural love of lecturing, as well
as his bluntness of feeling, prevented him from having
any idea of the pain which he was inflicting on his mas-
ter; “these are even their own very words. It was bat
yesterday your lordship was pleased, at that same ordi-
nary, to win from yonder young hafilins gentleman, with
the crimson velvet doublet, and the cock’s feather in his
beaver—him, I mean, who fought with the ranting cap-
tain—a matter of five pounds, or thereby. I saw him
come through the hall; and if he was not cleaned out of
eross and pile, I never saw a ruined man in my life.”

“Impossible!” said Lord Glenvarloch— why, who
is he? he looked like a man of substance.”

“All is not gold that glistens, my lord,” replied Richie;
““broidery and bullion buttons make bare pouches. And
if you ask who he is—maybe I have a guess, and care
not to tell.”

“At least, if I have done any such fellow an injury,”
said the Lord Nigel, “let me know how I can re-
pair it.”

“Never fash your beard about that, my lord,—witb
reverence always,” said Richie,—“he shall be suitably
eared after. Think on him but as ane wha was running
post to the devil, and got a shouldering from your lord-
ship to help him on his journey. But I will stop him, if
reason can; and so your lordship needs ask nae mair

 

about it, for there is no use in your knowing it, but much
the contrair.”

“Hark you, sirrah,” said his master, “I have borne
with you thus far, for certain reasons; but abuse my
good-nature no farther
why go a God’s name, and here is to pay your journey.”

 

and since you must needs 8Re SRE FER ang

J “eT RRO es

WAVERLEY NOVELS.

So saying, he put gold into his hand, which Richie told
over, piece by piece, with the utmost accuracy.

“Js it all right—or are they wanting in weight—or
what the devil keeps you, when your hurry was so great
five minutes since?” said the young lord, now thoroughly
nettled at the presumptuous precision with which. Richie
dealt forth his canons of morality.

“The tale of coin is complete,” said Richie, with the
most imperturbable gravity; “and, for the weight, though
they are sae scrupulous in this town, as make mouths at
a piece that is a wee bit light, or that has been cracked
within the ring, my sooth, they will jump at them in
Edinburgh like a cock at a grosart. Gold pieces are not
so plenty there, the mair the pity!”

“The more is your folly, then,” said Nigel, whose
anger was only momentary, “that leave the land where
there is enough of them.”

“ My lord,” said Richie, “to be round with you, the
grace of God is better than gold pieces. When Goblin,
as you call yonder Monsieur Lutin,—and you might as
well call him Gibbet, since that is what he is like to end
in,—shall recommend a page to you, ye will hear little
And if they
were my last words,” he said, raising his voice, “I would
Bay you are misled, and are forsaking the paths which
your honourable father trode in; and, what is more, you

 

such doctrine as ye have heard from me.

are going—still under correction—to the devil with a
dishclout, for ye are laughed at by them that lead you
into these disordered bypaths.”

“Laughed at!” said Nigel, who, like others of his age,
was more sensible to ridicule than to reason—“ Who
lares laugh at me?”

“ My lord, as sure as I live by bread—nay, more, as ]THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 285

 

am a true man—and, I think, your lordship never found
Richie’s tongue bearing aught but the truth—unless that
your lordslup’s credit, my country’s profit, or, it may be,

some sma’ occasion of my ain, made it unnecessary to

 

promulgate the haill veritie,—I say then, as I am a true
man, when I saw that puir creature come through the
ha’, at that ordinary, whilk is accurst (Heaven forgive
me for swearing!) of God and man, with his teeth set,
and his hands clenched, and his bonnet drawn over his
brows like a desperate man, Goblin said to me, ‘There
goes a dunghill chicken, that your master has plucked
clean enough; it will be long ere his lordship ruffle a
feather with a cock of the game.’ And so, my lord, to
speak it out, the lackeys, and the gallants, and more
especially your sworn brother, Lord Dalgarno, call you
the sparrow-hawk.—I had some thought to have cracked
Lutin’s pate for the speech, but, after a’, the controversy
was not worth it.”

“Do they use such terms of me?” said Lord Nigel.
“ Death and the devil!”

“And the devil’s dam, my lord,’ answered Richie ;
“they are all three busy in London.—And, besides, Lutin
and his master laughed at you, my lord, for letting it be
thought that
with the wife of the decent honest man whose house you

 

I shame to speak it—that ye were over well

but now left, as not sufficient for your new bravery,
whereas they said, the licentious scoffers, that you pre-
tended to such favour when you had not courage enough
for so fair a quarrel, and that the sparrow-hawk was too
craven-crested to fly at the wife of a cheesemonger.”"—
He stopped a moment, and looked fixedly in his master’s
face, which was inflamed with shame and anger, and then

proceeded. “My lord, I did you justice in my thought,ns meron: Meehan comith x re oa ee BR aa <

eS Met

Si ecamane AUER 3: ar

286 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

and myself too; for, thought I, he would have been us
deep in that sort of profligacy as in others, if it hadna
been Richie’s four quarters.”

$ W hat new nonsense nave you

 

to plague me
. qa

as Peo Raosucy Ay Net cps zo Pee oe : = =e

with?” said Lord Nigel.- “ but go on, since it 1s the

last time i am to be tormented with youl imperiinence,

  

Ay alas GN a cin ACh ees
—-go on, and make the most of your time.
ae ges iio POs al Ate At eta one ean ae
“Tn troth,” said Richie. "and so will t even do. And
as Heaven nas bestowed on me a tongue to speak and to

advise ”—_—

“ Which talent you can by no means be accused of
suffering to remain idle,” sai
rupting him.

“True, my lord,” said Richie, again waving
as if to bespeak his master’s silence and :
trust, you will think some time here
about to leave your service, it
know the truth, that ye m: \
your youth and innocence mav be « <posed, when auld
and doucer heads are. withd Wal din
There has been a lusty, good-lookinoe
forty, or by
lord.”

“Well, sir, what

- we want with mer” said Lord
Nigel.

“ At first, my lord,” replied h;

mie

Sane, making mony speerines

| ¢ bs 7 1 \ }?
: e LU VIO Ot Lp Ie | ower, “a9
y
= TAA 4 1 = eh > s
she seemed to be a well-fashioned : a

pleasure in sensible

admit her to my convers:

 

“T dare Say not,” said Lord Nj “no
tell her about my private affairs.” 2

 

UAalrs.
66 NT lowa
Not I, truly, my lord,” said the at int ;-— for
2 | 5 it ALLE dan Sag for,
‘hough she asked me mony

Ly questions about your f

ovTHE

>

FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 2387

your fortune, your business here, and such like, I did not
think it proper to tell her altogether the truth there-
anent.”

“T see no call on you whatever,” said Lord Nigel, “ to
tell the woman either truth or lies upon what she had
nothing to do with.”

“TI thought so too, my lord,” replied Richie, “and so I
told her neither.”

“ And what did you tell her, then, you eternal bab-
bler?” said his master, impatient of his prate, yet curious
to know what it was all to end in.

“TY told her,” said Richie, “about your warldly for-
tune, and sae forth, something whilk is not truth just at
this time; but which hath been truth formerly, suld be

and that was that

 

c

truth now, and will be truth again,
you were in possession of your fair lands, whilk ye are
but in right of as yet. Pleasant communing we had on
that and other topics, until she showed the cloven foot,
beginning to confer with me about some wench that she
said had a good will to your lordship, and fain she would

have spoken with you in particular anent it; but when I

heard of such inklings, I began to suspect she was little

 

better than whew !”—Here he concluded his narra-
tive with a low, but very expressive whistle.

«And what did your wisdom do in these circum-
stances?” said Lord Nigel, who, notwithstanding his
former resentment, could now scarcely forbear laughing.

ae

replied Richie, bending his

99
) <

“TJ put on a look, my lord
solemn brows, “that suld give her a heartscald of walk-
ine on such errands. I laid her enormities clearly before

her, and I threatened her, in sae mony words, thatviper

 

  

228 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

so we parted never to meet again, as I hope and trust.
And so I stood between your lordship and that tempta-
tion, which might have been worse than the ordinary, ox
the playhouse either ; since you wot well what Solomon,
King of the Jews, sayeth of the strange woman—for,
said I to mysell, we have taken to dicing already, and it
we take to drabbing next, the Lord kens what we may
land in.”

“Your impertinence deserves correction, but it is the
last which, for a time at least, I shall have to forgive—
and I forgive it,” said Lord Glenvarloch; “ and, since we
are to part, Richie, I will say no more respecting your
precautions on my account, than that I think you might
have left me to act according to my own judgment.”

“Mickle better not,” answered Richie—“ mickle better
not; we are a’ frail creatures, and can judge better fur
ilk ither than in our ain cases. And for me, even my-
self, saving that case of the sifflication, which might have
happened to any one, I have always observed myself to
be much more prudential in what I have done in your
lordship’s behalf, than even in what I have been able to
transact for my own interest

 

whilk last, I have, indeed,
always postponed, as in duty I ought.”

“TI do believe thou hast,” said Lord Nigel, “ having
ever found thee true and faithful. And since London
pleases you so little, I will bid you a short farewell; and
you may go down to Edinburgh until I come thither my-
self, when I trust you will re-enter into my service.”

“ Now, Heaven bless you, my lord,” said Richie Moni-

e ze 1 § RR pe ee A oe CL 3 1
plies, with uplifted eyes; “for that word sounds more
like grace than ony has come out of your mouth this fort-
night.—I give you godd’en, my lord.”

So saying, he thrust forth his immense bony hand,THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 289

seized on that of Lord Glenvarloch, raised it to his lips,
then turned short on his heel, and left the room hastily,
as if afraid of showing more emotion than was consistent
with his ideas of decorum. Lord Nigel, rather surprised
at his sudden exit, called after him to know whether
le was sufficiently provided with money; but Richie,
shaking his head, without making any other answer,
ran hastily down stairs, shut the street-door heavily be-
hind him, and was presently seen striding along the
Strand.

His master almost involuntarily watched and distin-
guished the tall raw-boned figure of his late follower,
from the window, for some time, until he was lost among
the crowd of passengers. Nigel’s reflections were not
altogether those of self-approval. It was no good sign
of his course of life, (he could not help acknowledging
this much to himself,) that so faithful an adherent no
longer seemed to feel the same pride in his service, or
attachment to his person, which he had formerly mani-
fested. Neither could he avoid experiencing some
twinges of conscience, while he felt in some degree the
charges which Richie had preferred against him, and ex-
perienced a sense of shame and mortification, arising
from the colour given by others to that, which he himself
would have called his caution and moderation in play.
He had only the apology, that it had never occurred to
himself in this light.

Then his pride and self-love suggested, that, on the
other hand, Richie, with all his good intentions, was little
better than a conceited, pragmatical domestic, who seemed
disposed rather to play the tutor than the lackey, and who,
out of sheer love, as he alleged, to his master’s person,

assumed the privilege of interfering with, and controlling,
VOL. XXVII. 19SN RN en OT PNT Pan SPR amnion

RR tai Pach TET ITO
PA ERR: Ooh cr eS

RE

    
 
 
   
   
    
  
  
     
   
  
  
  

  
   
     
 
       

290 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

his actions, besides rendering him ridiculous in the gay
world, from the antiquated formality, and intrusive pre-
Bumption, of his manners.

Nigel’s eyes were scarce turned from the window,
when his new landlord entering, presented to him a slip
of paper, carefully bound round with a string of flox-
suk, and sealed

 

it had been given in, he said, by a
woman, who did not stop an instant. The contents
harped upon the same string which Richie Moniplies
had already jarred. The epistle was in the following
words :—

“For the Right Honourable hands of Lord Glenvarloch,

“T hese, from a friend unknown :-—
“My Lorp,

“ You are trusting to an unhonest friend, and diminish-
ing an honest reputation. An unknown but real friend
of your lordship will speak in one word what you would
not learn from flatterers in so many days as should suffice
for your utter ruin. He whom you think most true—J
say your friend Lord Dalgarno—is utterly false to you,
and doth but seek, under pretence of friendship, to mar
your fortune, and diminish the good name by which you
might mend it. The kind countenance which he shows
to you, is more dangerous than the Prince’s frown; even
as to gain at Beaujeu’s ordinary is more discreditable
than to lose. Beware of both.—And this is all from your
true but nameless friend, IGnorto.”

Lord Glenvarloch paused for an instant, and crushed
the paper together—then again unfolded and read it with
attention—bent his brows—mused for a moment, and
then tearing it to fragments, exclaimed— Begone for a

vile calumny! But I will watch—I will observe ”TH FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 201

Thought after thought rushed on him; but, upon the

whole, Lord Glenvarloch was so little satisfied with the
result of his own reflections, that he resolved to dissipate
them by a walk in the Park, and, taking his cloak and
beaver, went thither accordingly.NOVELS.

 

WAVERLEY

CHAPTER XV.

Twas when fleet Snowball’s head was woxen gray,
A luckless lev’ret met him on his way ,—

Who knows not Snowball—he, whose race renown’d
Is still victorious on each coursing ground ’
Swaffham, Newmarket, and the Roman camp,
Have seen them victors o’er each meaner stamp.—
In vain the youngling sought, with doubling wile,
The hedge, the hill, the thicket, or the stile.
Hixperience sage the lack of speed supplied,

And in the gap he sought, the victim died

So was I once, in thy fair street, Saint James,
Through walking cavaliers, and car-borne dames,
Described, pursued, turn’d o’er again, and o’er,
Coursed, coted, mouth’d by an unfeeling bore

THE Park of Saint James’s, though enlarged, planted
with verdant alleys, and otherwise decorated by Charles
If., existed in the days of his grandfather, as a public
and pleasant promenade; and, for the sake of exer-
cise or pastime, was much frequented by the better
classes.

Lord Glenvarloch repaired thither to dispel the un-
pleasant reflections which had been suggested by his
yarting with his trusty squire, Richie Moniplies, in a
manner which was agreeable neither to his pride nor his
feelings ; and by the corroboration which the hints of his
late attendant had received from the anonymous letter
mentioned in the end of the last chapter.

There was a considerable number of company in the

VsTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL.

bo

93

Park when he entered it, but his present state of mind
inducing him to avoid society, he kept aloof from the
more frequented walks towards Westminster and White-
hall, and drew to the north, or, as we should now say,
ithe Piccadilly verge of the enclosure, believing he might
there enjoy, or rather combat, his own thoughts unmo-
lested.

In this, however, Lord Glenvarloch was mistaken ;
for, as he strolled slowly along with his arms folded in
his eloak, and his hat drawn over his eyes, he was sud-
denly pounced upon by Sir Mungo Malagrowther, who,
either shunning or shunned, had retreated, or had been
obliged to retreat, to the same less frequented corner of
the Park.

Nigel started when he heard the high, sharp, aud
querulous tones of the knight’s cracked voice, and was no
less alarmed when he beheld his tall thin figure hobbling
towards him, wrapped in a threadbare cloak, on whose
surface ten thousand varied stains eclipsed the original
scarlet, and having his head surmounted with a well-worn
beaver, bearing a black velvet band for a chain, and a
eapon’s feather for an ostrich plume.

Lord Glenvarloch would fain have made his escape,
but, as our motto intimates, a leveret had as little chance
to free herself of an experienced greyhound. Sir Mungo,
to continue the simile, had long ago learned to run cunning,
and make sure of mouthing his game. So Nigel found
himself compelled to stand and answer the hackneyed
question—* What news to-day ?”

“Nothing extraordinary, I believe,” answered the
young nobleman, attempting to pass on.

« O, ye are ganging to the French ordinary belive.”
replied the knight ; “but it is early day yet—we will take294 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

p turn in the Park in the meanwhile—it will sharpen
your appetite.”

So saying, he quietly slipped his arm under Lord Glen-
varloch’s, in spite of all the decent reluctance which his
victim eould exhibit, by keeping his elbow close to his
side ; and having fairly grappled the prize; he proceeded
to take it in tow.

Nigel was sullen and silent, in hopes to shake off his
unpleasant companion; but Sir Mungo was determined,
that if he did not speak, he should at least hear.

“Ye are bound for the ordinary, my lord?” said the
cynic ;—“ weel, ye canna do better—there is choice com-
pany there, and peculiarly selected, as I am tauld, being,
dootless, sic as it is desirable that young noblemen should
herd withal—and your noble father wad have been blithe
to see you keeping such worshipful society.”

“T believe,” said Lord Glenvarloch, thinking himself
obliged to say something, “that the society is as good as
generally can be found in such places, where the door
can scarcely be shut against those who come to spend
their money.”

“Right, my lord—vera right,’ said his tormentor,
bursting out into a chuckling, but most discordant laugh.

“These citizen chuffs and clowns will press in amongst
us, when there is but an inch of a door open. And what
remedy ?—Just e’en this, that as their cash gies them
confidence, we should strip them of it. Flay them, my
lord—singe them as the kitchen wench does the rats, and
then they winna long to come back againn—Ay, ay—

pluck them, plume them—and then the larded c

apons
will not be for flying so high a wing, my lord, among the

goss-hawks and Sparrow-hawks, and the like.”

And, therewithal, Sir Mungo fixed on Nigel his quick,THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 295

Bharp, gray eye, watching the effect of his sarcasm as
keenly as the surgeon, in a delicate operation, remarks
the progress of his anatomical scalpel.

Nigel, however willing to conceal his sensations, could
not avoid gratifying his tormentor by wincing under the
operation. He coloured with vexation and anger; but a
quarrel with Sir Mungo Malagrowther would, he felt, be
unutterably ridiculous; and he only muttered to himself
the words, “ Impertinent coxcomb!” which, on this occa-
sion, Sir Mungo’s imperfection of organ did not prevent
him from hearing and replying to.

“ Ay, ay—vera true,” exclaimed the caustic old cour-
tier—‘ Impertinent coxcombs they are, that thus intrude
themselves on the society of their betters ; but your lord-
ship kens how to gar them as gude—ye have the trick
on’t.—They had a braw sport in the presence last Friday,
how ye suld have routed a young shopkeeper, horse and
foot, ta’en his spolia opima, and a’ the specie he had
about him, down to the very silver buttons of his cloak,
and sent him to graze with Nebuchadnezzar, King of
Babylon. Muckle honour redounded to your lordship
thereby.—We were tauld the loon threw himsell into the
Thames in a fit of desperation. There’s enow of them
behind—there was mair tint on Flodden-edge.”

“You have been told a budget of lies, so far as I am
soncerned, Sir Mungo,” said Nigel, speaking loud and
gternly.

“Vera likely—vera likely,” said the unabashed and
undismayed Sir Mungo; “naething but lies are current
the circle. So the chield is not drowned, then ?—the
mair’s the pity.—But I never believed that part of the
story-—a London dealer has mair wit in his anger. I
dare swear the lad has a bonny broom-shank in bis hand296 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

by this time, and is scrubbing the kennels in quest after
rusty nails, to help him to begin his pack again.—He has
three bairns, they say; they will help him bravely to
prope in the gutters. Your good lordship may have the
ruining of him again, my lord, if they have any luck in
strand-scouring.”

“This is more than intolerable,” said Nigel, uncertain
whether to make an angry vindication of his character, or
to fling the old tormentor from his arm. But an instant’s
recollection convinced him, that, to do either, would only
give an air of truth and consistency to the scandals which
he began to see were affecting his character, both in the
higher and lower circles. Hastily, therefore, he formed
the wiser resolution, to endure Sir Mungo’s studied im-
pertinence, under the hope of ascertaining, if possible,
from what source those reports arose which were so.
prejudicial to his reputation.

Sir Mungo, in the meanwhile, caught up, as usual,
Nigel’s last words, or rather the sound of them, and
amplified and interpreted them in his own way. “ Toler-
able luck!” he repeated; “yes, truly, my lord, I am told
that you have tolerable luck, and that ye ken weel how to
use that jilting quean, Dame Fortune, like a canny douce
lad, willing to warm yourself in her smiles, without ex-
posing yourself to her frowns. And that is what I ea’
having luck in a bag.”

“Sir Mungo Malagrowther,” said Lord Glenvarloch,
turning towards him seriously, “have the goodness to
hear me for a moment.”

“As weel as I can, my lord—as weel as I can,” said
Sir Mungo, shaking his head, and pointing the finger of
his left hand to his ear.

“TI will try to speak very distinctly,” said Nigel, armingTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 297

himself with patience. “You take me for a noted
gpamester; I give you my. word that you have not been
rightly informed—-I am none such. You owe me some
explanation, at least, respecting the source from which
you have derived such false information.”

“J never heard ye were a great gamester, and never
thought or said you were such, my lord,” said Sir Mungo,
who found it impossible to avoid hearing what Nigel said
with peculiarly deliberate and distinct pronunciation. “I
repeat it—I never heard, said, or thought, that you were
a ruffling gamester,—such as they call those of the first
head.—Look you, my lord, I call Aim a gamester, that
plays with equal stakes and equal skill, and stands by the
fortune of the game, good or bad; and I call Azm a ruf-
fling gamester, or ane of the first head, who ventures
frankly and deeply upon such a wager. But he, my lord,
who has the patience and prudence never to venture
beyond small game, such as, at most, might crack the
Christmas-box of a grocer’s ’prentice, who vies with those
that have little to hazard, and who, therefore, having the
larger stock, can always rook them by waiting for his
good fortune, and by rising from the game when luck
leaves him—such a one as he, my lord, I do not calla
great gamester, to whatever other name he may be enti-
tled.”

“ And such a mean-spirited, sordid wretch, you would
‘infer that I am,” replied Lord Glenvarloch; “one who
fears the skilful, and preys upon the ignorant—who avoids
playing with his equals, that he may make sure of pillag-
ing his inferiors ?—Is this what I am to understand has
been reported of me?”

“ Nay, my lord, you will gain nought by speanxing big
with ms,” said Sir Mungo, wh», besides that his sar sastic298 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

humour was really supported by a good fund of animal
vourage, had also full reliance on the iamunities which
he had derived from the broadsword of Sir Rullion Rat-
tray, and the baton of the satellites employed by the
Lady Cockpen. “And for the truth of the matter,” he
continued, “ your lordship best knows whether you ever

> 2 fe ein XTOV nO TA ag
lost more than five pieces at a time since you equented

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Beauieu’s—whether you have not most commonly risen <
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winner—and whether the brave young gallants whe

frequent the ordinary—I mean those of noble rank,
are in use to play upon those

 

and means conforming
terms?”

“ My father was right,” said Lord Glenvarloch, in the
bitterness of his spirit; “and his curse justly followed
me when I first entered that place. ‘There is contamina-
tion in the air, and he whose fortune avoids ruin, shall be
blighted in his honour and reputation.”

Sir Mungo, who watched his victim with the delighted
yet wary eye of an experienced angler, became now
aware, that if he strained the line on him too tightly,
there was every risk of his breaking hold. In order to
give him room, therefore, to play, he protested that Lord
Glenvarloch “should not take his free speech 2m malam
partem. If you were a trifle ower sicker in your amuse-
ment, my lord, it canna be denied that it is the safest
course to prevent farther endangerment of your some-
what dilapidated fortunes; and if ye play with your infe-
riors, ye are relieved of the pain of pouching the siller
pf your friends and equals; forbye, that the plebeian
knaves have had the advantage, tecum certdsse, as Ajax
Telamon sayeth, apud Metamorphoseos ; and for the like
of them to have played with ane Scottish nobleman, is
en honest and honourable consideration to compensateTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 299

the loss of their stake, whilk, I dare say, moreover, maist
of the churls can weel afford.”

“ Be that as it may, Sir Munyo,” said Nigel, “ I would
fain know ”———

“ Ay, ay,” interrupted Sir Mungo; “and, as you say,
who cares whether the fat bulls of Bashan can spare it or
no? gentlemen are not to limit their sport for the like of
them.”

“ T wish to know, Sir Mungo,” said Lord Glenvarloch,
“in what company you have learned these offensive par-
ticulars respecting me?”

“Dootless—dootless, my lord,” said Sir Mungo; “I
have ever heard, and I have ever reported, that your
lordship kept the best of company in a private way.—
There is the fine Countess of Blackchester,—but I think
she stirs not much abroad since her affair with his Grace
of Buckingham; and there is the gude auld-fashioned
Scottish nobleman, Lord Huntinglen, an undeniable man
of quality—it is pity but he could keep caup and can frae
his head, whilk now and then doth minish his reputation.
And there is the gay young Lord Dalgarno, that carries
a fair

 

the craft of gray hairs under his curled love-locks
race they are, father, daughter, and son, all ot the same
honourable family. I think we needna speak of George
Heriot, honest man, when we have nobility in question.
So that is the company I have heard of your keeping, my
lord, out-taken those of the ordinary.” |

“My company has not, indeed, been much more ex-
tended than amongst those you mention,” said Lord Glen-

 

varloch; “ but in short”

“To Court?” said Sir Mungo, “that was just what I
was going to say—Lord Dalgarne says he cannot prevail
pn-ye to come to Court, and that does ye prejudice, myonan ane — . wae ce of on
TEEN Ra RE TEES Scorer Rast lei

BOO WAVERLEY NOVELS.

lord—the King hears of you by others, when he should
see you in person—lI speak in serious friendship my lord.
His Majesty, when you were named in the circle short
while since, was heard to say, ‘ Jacta est alea /—Glenvar-
lochides is turned dicer and drinker.’—My Lord Dalgar-
no took your part,and it was e’en borne down by the
popular voice of the courtiers, who spoke of you as one
who had betaken yourself to living a town life, and risk-
ing your baron’s coronet amongst the flatcaps of the
city.”

“ And this was publicly spoken of me,” said Nigel,
“and in the King’s presence ?”

“Spoken openly?” repeated Sir Mungo Malagrow-
ther; “ay, by my troth was it—that is to say, it was
whispered privately—whilk is as open promulgation as
the thing permitted; for ye may think the Court is not
like a place where men are as sib as Simmie and his
brother, and roar out their minds as if they were at an
ordinary.”

“ A curse on the Court and the ordinary both!” cried
Nigel, impatiently.

“With all my heart,” said the knight, “I have got
little by a knight’s service in the Court; and the last
time I was at the ordinary, I lost four angels.”

“May I pray of you, Sir Mungo, to let me know,”
said Nigel, “the names of those who thus make free with
the character of one who can be but little known to them.
and who never injured any of them ? ”

“Have I not told you already,” answered Sir Mungo,

“that the King said something to that effect—so did the

Prince too ;—and such being the case, ye may take it on
your corporal oath, that every man in the circle who was
not silent, sung the same song as they did.”THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 301

“You said but now,” replied Glenvarloch, “ that Lord
Dalgarno interfered im my behalf.”

“Tn good troth did he,” answered Sir Mungo, with a
meer ; “but the young nobleman was soon borne down-—
by token, he had something of a catarrh, and spoke as
hoarse as a roopit raven. Poor gentleman, if he had had
his full extent of voice, he would have been as well lis-
tened to, dootless, as in a cause of his ain, whilk no man
kens better how to plead to purpose.—And let me ask
you, by the way,” continued Sir Mungo, “ whether Lord
Dalgarno has ever introduced your lordship to the Prince
or the Duke of Buckingham, either of whom might soon
earry through your suit ?.”

“J have no claim on the favour of either the Prince
or the Duke of Buckingham,” said Lord Glenvarloch.—
« As you seem to have made my affairs your study, Sir
Mungo, although perhaps something unnecessarily, you
may have heard that I have petitioned my sovereign for
payment of a debt due to my family. I cannot doubt the
King’s desire to do justice, nor can I in decency employ
the solicitation of his Highness the Prince, or his Grace
the Duke of Buckingham, to obtain from his Majesty
what either should be granted me as @ right, or refused
altogether.”

Sir Mungo twisted his whimsical features into one of
his most grotesque sneers, as he replied—

“Tt is a vera clear and parspicuous position of the casey
my lord; and in relying thereupon, you show an absolute
and unimprovable acquaintance with the King, Court, and
neral.—But whom have we got here ?—
nd make way—by my word of hon-
e of—talk of the

mankind in ge
Stand up, my lord, a
Rai they are the very Men We spok

Jevil, and—humph !”ATP ah RE TERT jeg ue ss ree

 

Ras
ie Mean FRc tee

la
ekg A ah ERI ew allt
RI ig OO es Stat _
ES =

302 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

It must be here premised, that, during the conversa-
tion, Lord Glenvarloch, perhaps in the hope of shaking
himself free of Sir Mungo, had directed their walk
towards the more frequented part of the Park; while
the good knight had stuck to him, being totally indifferent
which way they went, provided he could keep his talons
clutched upon his companion. They were still, however,
at some distance from the livelier part of the scene, when
Sir Mungo’s experienced eye noticed the appearances
which occasioned the latter part of his speech to Lord
Glenvarloch. |

A low respectful murmur arose among the numerous
groups of persons which occupied the lower part of the
Park. They first clustered together, with their faces
turned towards Whitehall, then fell back on either hand
to give place to a splendid party of gallants, who, advanc-
ing from the Palace, came onward through the Park; all
the other company drawing off the pathway, and standing
uncovered as they passed.

Most of these courtly gallants were dressed in the garb
which the pencil of V andyke has made familiar even at _
the distance of nearly two centuries ; and which was just
at this period beginning to supersede the more fluttering
and frivolous dress which had been adopted from the
French Court of Henri Quatre.

The whole train were uncovered excepting the Prince
of Wales, afterwards the most unfortunate of British
monarchs, who came onward, hav

ing his long curled
auburn tresses, and his countenance,

which, even in early
youth, bore a shade of anticipated melancholy, shaded
*y the Spanish hat and the single ostrich feather which
irooped from it. On his right hand was Buckingham,

whose commanding, and at the same time graceful deport.THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 308

ment, threw almost into shade the personal demeanour
and majesty of the Prince on whom he attended. The
eye, movements, and gestures, of the great courtier, were
so composed, so regularly observant of all etiquette be-
longing to his situation, as to form a marked and strong
contrast with the forward gaiety and frivolity by. which he
recommended himself to the favour of his “dear dad and
gossip,” King James. A singular fate attended this ac
complished courtier, in being at once the reigning favour-
‘te of a father and son so very opposite in manners, that,
to ingratiate himself with the youthful Prince, he was
obliged to compress within the strictest limits of respectful
observance. the frolicsome and free humour which capti-
rated his aged father.

It is true Buckingham well knew the different disposi-
tions both of James and Chatles, and had no difficulty in
so conducting himself as to maintain the highest post in
the favour of both. It has indeed been supposed, as we
before hinted, that the Duke, when he had completely
possessed himself of the affections of Charles, retained
his hold in those of the father only by the tyranny of
custom; and that James, could he have brought him-
self to form a vigorous resolution, was, in the latter
years of his life especially, not unlikely to have dis-
earded Buckingham from his councils and favour. But
¢ ever the King indeed meditated such a change, he
was too timid, and too much accustomed to the influ-
ence which the Duke had long exercised over him, to
summon up resolution enough for effecting such a putr-
pose ; and at all events it is certain, that Buckingham,
though surviving the master by whom he was raised, had
the rare chance to experience no wane of the most
splendid court favour during two reigns, until it was atRFR RET ERS TERT NR OR

  

804 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

once eclipsed in his blood by the dagger of his assassin
Felton.

To return from this digression: The Prince, with his
train, advanced, and were near the place where Lord
Glenvarloch and Sir Mungo had stood aside, according
to form, in order to give the Prince passage, and to pay
the usual marks of respect. Nigel could now remark
that Lord Dalgarno walked close behind the Duke of
Buckingham, and, as he thought, whispered something in
his ear as they came onward. At any rate, both the
Prince’s and Duke of Buckingham’s attention seemed
to be directed by some circumstance towards Nigel, for
they turned their heads in that direction and looked at
him attentively—the Prince with a countenance, the
grave, melancholy expression of which was blended with
severity ; while Buckingham’s looks evinced some degree
of scornful triumph. Lord Dalgarno did not seem to ob-
serve his friend, perhaps because the sunbeams fell from
the side of the walk on which Nigel stood, obliging Mal-
colm to hold up his hat to screen his eyes.

As the Prince passed, Lord Glenvarloch and Sir
Mungo bowed, as respect required ; and the Prinee,
returning their obeisance with that grave ceremony
which paid to every rank its due, but not a tittle beyond
it, signed to Sir Mungo to come forward. Commencing
an apology for his lameness as he started, which he bad
just completed as his hobbling gait brought him up to
the Prince, Sir Mungo lent an attentive, and, as it
seemed, an intelligent ear, to questions, asked in a tone
80 low, that the knight would certainly have been deaf
to them had they been put to him by any one under the
rank of Prince of Wales. After about a minute’s conver-
sation, the Prince bestowed on Nigel the embarrassingTHE FORTUNES Ot NIGEL. 305

notice of another fixed look, touched his hat slightly to
Sir Mungo, and walked on.

“It is even as I suspected, my lord,” said Sir Mungo,
with an air which he designed to be melancholy and
sympathetic, but which, in fact, resembled the grin of an
ape when he has mouthed a scalding chestnut—-“ Ye
have back-friends, my. lord, that is, unfriends, or to be
plain, enemies—about the person ofthe Prince.”

“Tam sorry to hear it,’ said Nigel; “but I would I
knew what they accuse me of.”

“Ye shall hear, my lord,” said Sir Mungo, “the
Prince’s vera words—‘ Sir Mungo,’ said he, ‘I rejoice to
see you, and am glad your rheumatic troubles permit you
to come hither for exercise. —I bowed, as in duty bound
—yeé might remark, my lord, that I did so, whilk formed
the first branch of our conversation.—His Highness then-
demanded of me, ‘if he with whom I stood was the young
Lord Glenvarloch.’ I answered, ‘that you were such,
for his Highness’s service ;’ whilk was the second branch.
—Thirdly, his Highness, resuming the argument, said,
that, ‘truly he -had been told so, (meaning that he
had been told you were that personage,) ‘but that he
could not believe that the heir of that noble and decayed
house could be leading an idle, scandalous, and precarious
life, in the eating-houses and taverns of London, while
the King’s drums were beating, and colours flying in
Germany in the cause of the Palatine, his son-in-law. —I
could, your lordship is aware, do nothing but make an
obeisance; and a gracious ‘ Give ye cood-day, Sir Munge
Malagrowther, licensed me to fall back to your lordship.
And now, my lord, if your business or pleasure calls you
to the ordinary, or anywhere in the direction of the city
~why, have with you; for, dootless, ye will think ye

VOL. XXVII. 20WAVERLEY NOVELS.

have tarried lang enough in the Park, as they will likely
turn at the head of the walk, and return this way—and
you have a broad hint, I think, not to cross the Prince’s
presence in a hurry.”

“ You eney, stay or go as you please, Sir Mungo,” said
Nigel, with an expression of calm, but deep resentment ;
“but, for my own part, my resolution is taken. I will
till less

        

guit this public walk for pleasure of nc
will J quit it like one unworthy to be seen in places of
public resort. I trust that the Prince and his retinue
will return this way as you expect; for I will abide, Six
Mungo, and beard them.”

“ Beard them!” exclaimed Sir Mungo, in the extremity

of sur “ Beard the Prince of Wales—the heir-
|

      

xpparent of the kingdoms !—By my saul, you shall beard
him yoursell then.”

Accordingly he was about to leave Nigel very hastily,
when some unwonted touch of good-natured interest in
his youth and inexperience, seemed suddenly to soften
his habitual cynicism.”

“The devil is in me for an auld-fule!” said Sir
Mungo; “but I must needs concern mysell—I that owe
so little either to fortune or my fellow-creatures, must, I
Say, needs concern mysell—with this springald, whom I
will warrant to be as obstinate as a pig possessed with a
devil, for it’s the cast of his family; and yet I maun e’en
fling away some sound advice on him.—My daint y young
Lord Glenvarloch, understand me dis stinctly, for this is
no bairn’s play. When the Prince said sae much to me
es [have repeated to you, it was equivalent to a com-
mand not to appear again in his presence; wherefore,
take an auld man’s advice that wishes you weel, and
maybe a wee thing better than he has reason to wish onyTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 307

body. Jouk, and let the jaw gae by, like a canny bairn
—sange hame to your lodgings, keep your foot frae
taverns, and your fingers frae the dice-box; compound
your affairs quietly wi’ some ane that has better favour
than yours about Court, and you will get a round spell
of money to carry you to Germany, or elsewhere, to push
your fortune. It was a fortunate soldier that made your
family four or five hundred years syne, and, if you are
brave and fortunate, you may find the way to repair it.
But, take my word for it, that in this Court you will
never thrive.”

When Sir Mungo had completed his exhortation, in
which there was more of sincere sympathy with another’s
situation, than he had been heretofore known to express
in behalf of any one, Lord Glenvarloch replied, “1 am
obliged to you, Sir Mungo—you have spoken, I think,
with sincerity, and I thank you. But in return for your
good advice, I heartily entreat you to leave me; I ob-
serve the Prince and his train are returning down the
walk, and you may prejudice yourself, but cannot help
me, by remaining with me.”

«And that is true,’ said Sir Mungo; “yet, were I
ten years younger, I would be tempted to stand by
you, and gie them the meeting. But at threescore
and upward, men’s courage turns cauldrife; and they
that canna win a living, must not endanger the small
sustenance of their age. I wish you weel through, my
lord, but it is an unequal fight.” So saying, he turned
and limped away; often looking back, however, as if his
natural spirit, even in its present subdued state, aided
by his love of contradiction and of debate, rendered
him unwilling to adopt the course necessary for his own

security.mo

 

508 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

Thus abandoned by his companion, whose departure he
praced with better thoughts of him than those which he
bestowed on his appearance, Nigel remained with his
arms folded, and reclining against a solitary tree which
overhung the path, making up his mind to encounter a
moment which he expected to be critical of his fate. But
he was mistaken in supposing that the Prince of Wales
would either address him, or admit him to expostulation,
in such a public place as the Park. He did not remain
unnoticed, however, for, when he made a respectful but
haughty obeisance, intimating in look and manner that he
was possessed of, and undaunted by, the unfavourable
opinion which the Prince had so lately expressed, Charles
returned his reverence with such a frown, as is only given
by those whose frown is authority and decision. The
train passed on, the Duke of. Buckingham not even ap-
pearing to see Lord Glenvarloch; while Lord Dalgarno,
though no longer incommoded by the sunbeams, kept his
eyes, which had perhaps been dazzled by their former
splendour, bent upon the ground.

Lord Glenvarloch had difficulty to restrain an indig-
nation, to which, in the circumstances, it would have been
madness to have given vent. He started from his re-
vlining posture, and followed the Prince’s train, so as to
keep them distinctly in sight; which was very easy, as
they walked slowly. Nigel observed them keep their
road towards the Palace, where the Prince turned at the
gate and bowed to the noblemen in attendance, in token
of dismissing them, and entered the Palace, accompanied
only by the. Duke of Buckingham, and one or two of his
equerries. The rest of the train having returned in
all dutiful humility the farewell of the Prince, began to
disperse themselves through the Park.THE -FQRTUNES OF NIGEL. 309

All this was carefully noticed by Lord Glenvarloch,
who, as he adjusted his cloak, and drew his sword-belt
round so as to bring the hilt closer to his hand, muttered

o

—“ Dalearno shall explain all this to me. for it is evident

ee?
°

that he is in the secret:310 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

CHAPTER XVI.

Give way—give way—I must and will have justice.
And tell me not of privilege and place ;

Where I am injured, there I’ll sue redress.

Look to it, every one who bars my access :

I have a heart to feel the injury,

A hand to right myself, and, by my honour,

That hand shall grasp what gray-beard Law denies me.

THE CHAMBERLAIN.

It was not long ere Nigel discovered Lord Dalgarno
advancing towards him in the company of another young
man of quality of the Prince’s train; and as they directed
their course towards the south-eastern corner of the P ark,
he concluded they were about to go to Lord Huntinglen’s.
They stopped, however, and turned up another path lead-
ing to the north; and Lord Glenvarloch conceived that
this change of firection was owing to, their having seen
him, and their desire to avoid him.

Nigel followed them without hesitation up a path which,
winding around a thicket of shrub and trees 3, Once more
conducted him to the less frequented part of the Park
He observed which side of the thicket was tak en by ont
Dalgarno and his companion, and he himself, walking
hastily round the other verge, was thus enabled to meet
them face to face.

“Good-morrow, my Lord Dalgarno,” said Lord Glen-
varloch, sternly.THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 311

“ Ha! my friend Nigel,” answered Lord Dalgarno, in
his usual careless and indifferent tone, “my friend Nigel,
with business on his brow ?—but you must wait till we
meet at Beaujeu’s at noon—Sir Ewes Haldimund and I
are at present engaged in the Prince’s service.”

“Tf you were engaged in the King’s, my lords?
said Lord Glenvarloch, “you must stand and answer
me.”

“ Hey-day!” said Lord Dalgarno, with an air of great
astonishment, “ what passion is this? Why, Nigel, this
is King Cambyses’ vein |!—You have frequented the
theatres too much lately—Away with this folly, man;
go, dine upon soup and salad, drink succory-water to cool
your blood, go to bed at sundown, and defy those foul
fiends, Wrath and Misconstruction.”

“J have had misconstruction enough among you,
Glenvarloch in the same tone of determined displeasure,
“and from you, my Lord Dalgarno, in particular, and all
under the mask of friendship.”

“ Here is a proper business!” said Dalgarno, turning
as if to appeal to Sir Ewes Haldimund ; “do you see this
angry ruffler, Sir Ewes? A month since, he dared not
have looked one of yonder sheep in the face, and now he
is a prince of roisterers, a plucker of pigeons, a controller
of players and poets—and in gratitude for my having
shown him the way to the eminent character which he
holds upon town, he comes hither to quarrel with his best
friend, if not his only one of decent station.”

“J renounce such hollow friendship, my lord,” said
Lord Glenvarloch; “I disclaim the character which,
even to my very face, you labour to fix upon me, and
wre we part I will call you to a reckoning for it.”

“ My lords both,” interrupted Sir Ewes Haldimund,

2

saidSL WAVERLEY NOVELS.

“let me remind you that the Royal Park is no place to
quarrel in.”

“J will make my quarrel good,” said Nigel, who did
not know, or in his passion might not have recollected,
the privileges of the place, “ wherever I find my enemy.”

“You shall find quarrelling enough,” replied Lord
Dalgarno, calmly, “so soon as you assign a sufficient
cause for it. Sir Ewes Haldimund, who knows the
Court, will warrant you that I am not backward on such
occasions.— But of what is it that you now complain, after
having experienced nothing save kindness from me and
my family ?”

“ Of your family I complain not,” replied Lord Glen-
varloch ; “ they have’ done for me all they could, more,
far more, than I could have expected ; but you, my lord,
have suffered me, while you called me your friend, to be
traduced, where a word of your mouth would have placed
my character in its true colours—and hence the injurious
message which I just now received from the Prince of
Wales. To permit the misrepresentation of a friend, my
lord, is to share in the slander.”

“You have been misinformed, my Lord Glenvarloch,”
said Sir Ewes Haldimund; “I have myself often heard
Lord Dalgarno defend your character, and regret that
your exclusive attachment to the pleasures of a London
life prevented your paying your duty regularly to the
King and Prince.”

“While he himself,” said Lord Glenvarloch, “ dis-
suaded me from presenting myself at Court.”

“Twill cut this matter short,” said Lord Dalgarno,
with haughty coldness. “You seem to have conceived,
my lord, that you and I were Pylades and Orestes—a
second edition of Damon and Pythias—Theseus and

 

=THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 313

Pirithoiis at the least. You are mistaken, and have
piven the name of Friendship to what, on my part, was
mere good-nature and compassion for a raw and ignorant
countryman, joined to the cumbersome charge which my
father gave me respecting you. Your character, my lord,
is of no one’s drawing, but of your own making. [ intro-
duced you where, as in all such places, there was good
and indifferent company to be met with—your habits, or
taste, made you prefer the worse. Your holy horror at
the sight of dice and cards degenerated into the cautious
resolution to play only at those times, and with such per-
sons, as might ensure you rising a winner—no man can
long do so, and continue to be held a gentleman. Such
is the reputation you have made for yourself, and you
have no right to be angry that I do not contradict im
society what yourself know to be true. Let us pass on,
my lord; and if you want farther explanation, seek some
other time and fitter place.”

“No time can be better than the present,” said Lord
Glenvarloch, whose resentment was now excited to the
uttermost by the cold-blooded and insulting manner, in
which Dalgarno vindicated himself,—“no place fitter
than the place where we now stand. Those of my house
have ever avenged insult at the moment, and on the spot,
where it was offered, were it at the foot of the throne.—
Lord Dalgarno, you are a villain! draw and defend your-
self.’ At the same time he unsheathed his rapier.

“Are you mad?” said Lord Dalgarno, stepping back ;
“ we are in the precincts of the Court!”

“The better,’ answered Lord Glenvarloch; “ I will
cleanse them from a calumniator and a coward.” He
then pressed on Lord Dalgarno, and struck him with the
flat of the sword.314 WAVERLEY NOVELS

The fray had now attracted attention, and the cry went
round, “ Keep the peace—keep the peace ords drawn
in the Park !—What, ho! guards !—keepers—yeomen
and a number of people came rushing to the

        

{ 79

rangers !
spot from all sides.

Lord Dalgarno, who had half drawn his sword on
receiving the blow, returned it to his scabbard when he
observed the crowd thicken, and taking Sir Ewes Haldi-
mund by the arm, walked hastily away, only saying to
Lord Glenvarloch as they left him, “ You shall dearly
abye this insult—we will meet again.”

A decent-looking elderly man, who observed that Lord
Glenvarloch remained on the spot, taking compassion on
his youthful appearance, said to him, “Are you aware e this
is a Star-Chamber business, young gentleman, and that it
may cost you your right hand ?—Shift for yourself before
the keepers or constables come up—Get into Whitefriars
or somewhere, for sanctuary and concealment, till you can
make friends or quit the city.”

The advice was not to be neglected. Lord Glenvar-
loch made hastily towards the issue from the Park
Saint James’s Palace, then Saint James’s Hospital. The
hubbub increased behind him ; and several peace-officers
of the Royal Household came up to ap prehend the delin-
quent. Fortunately for Nigel, a oes edition of the
cause of the aftray had gone abroad. It was said that one
of the Duke of Buckingham’s companions had insulted a
stranger gentleman from the country, and that the strancey
had cudgelled him soundly. A favourite, or the companion
of a favourite, is always odious to John Bull, who has,
esides, a partiality to those disputants who proceed, as
lawyers term it, par voye du fait, and both prejudices

> XN a .
were in Nigel’s favour. The officers , therefore, who cameTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 315

to apprehend him, could learn from the spectators no
particulars of his appearance, or information concerning
the road he had taken; so that, for the moment, he
escaped being arrested.

What Lord Glenvarloch heard among the crowd as he
passed along, was sufficient to satisfy him, that in his im-
patient passion he had placed himself in a predicament
of considerable danger. He was no stranger to. the
severe and arbitrary proceedings of the Court of Star-
Chamber, especially in cases of breach of privilege, which
made it the terror of all men; and it was no farther back
than the Queen’s time that the punishment of mutilation
had been actually awarded and executed, for some offence
of the same kind which he had just committed. He had
also the comfortable reflection, that, by his violent quarrel
with Lord Dalgarno, he must now forfeit the friendship
and good officés of that nobleman’s father and sister,
almost the only persons of consideration in whom he
could claim any interest; while all the evil reports: which
had been put in circulation concerning his character,
were certain to weigh heavily against him, in a case
where much must necessarily depend on the reputation of
the accused. To a youthful imagination, the idea of such
a punishment as mutilation seems more ghastly than

©

death itself; and every word which he overheard among
the groups which he met, mingled with, or overtook and
passed, announced this as the penalty of his offence. He
dreaded to increase his pace for fear of attracting suspi-
‘ion, and more than once saw the ranget’s officers so near
im, that his wrist tingled as if already under the blade
6f the dismembering knife. At length he got out of the
Park, and had a little more leisure to consider what he
was next to do.Sones

 

Sao

d16 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

Whitefriars, adjacent to the Temple, then well known
by the cant name of Alsatia, had at this time, and for
nearly a century afterwards, the privilege of a sanctuary,
unless against the writ of the Lord Chief Justice, or of
the Lords of the Privy-Council. -Indeed, as the place
abounded with desperadoes of every description,—bank-
rupt citizens, ruined gamesters, irreclaimable prodigals,
desperate duellists, bravoes, homicides, and debauched
profligates of every description, all leagued together to
maintain the immunities of their asylum,—it was both
difficult and unsafe for the officers of the law to execute
warrants, emanating even from the highest authority,
amongst men whose safety was inconsistent with warrants
or authority of any kind This Lord Glenvarloch well
knew; and odious as the place of refuge was, it seemed
the only one where, for a space at least, he might be con-
cealed and secure from the immediate grasp of the law,
until he should have leisure to provide better for his
safety, or to get this unpleasant matter in some shape
accommodated.

Meanwhile, as Nigel walked hastily forward towards
the place of sanctuary, he bitterly blamed himself for
suffering Lord Dalgarno to lead him into the haunts of
dissipation ; and no less accused his intemperate heat of
passion, which now had driven him for refuge into the
purlieus of profane and avowed vice and debauchery.

“ Dalgarno spoke but too truly in that,” were his bitter
reflections; “TI have made myself an evil reputation by
acting on his insidious counsels, and neglecting the whole-
some admonitions which ought to have claimed implicit
obedience from me, and which recommended abstinence
even from the slightest approach to evil. But if 1]
escape from the perilous labyrinth in which folly and in-THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 317

experience, as well as-violent passions, have involved me,
I will find some noble way of redeeming the lustre of a
name which was never sullied until I bore it.”

As Lord Glenvarloch formed these prudent resolutions,
he entered the Temple Walks, whence a gate at that
time opened into Whitefriars, by which, as by the more
private passage, he proposed to betake himself to the
sanctuary. As he approached the entrance to that den
of infamy, from which his mind recoiled even while in
the act of taking shelter there, his pace slackened, while
the steep and broken stairs reminded him of the facilis
descensus Averni, and rendered him doubtful whether it
were not better to brave the worst which could befall him
in the public haunts of honourable men, than to evade
punishment by secluding himself in those of avowed vice
and profligacy.

As Nigel hesitated, a young gentleman of the Temple
advanced towards him, whom he had often seen, and
sometimes conversed with at the ordinary, where he was
a frequent and welcome guest, being a wild young gal-
lant, indifferently well provided with money, who spent
at the theatres and other gay places of public resort, the
time which his father supposed he was employing in the
study of the law. But Reginald Lowestoffe, such was
the young Templar’s name, was of opinion that little law
was necessary to enable him to spend the revenues of the
paternal acres which were to devolve upon him at his
father’s demise, and therefore gave himself no trouble to
acquire more of that science than might be imbibed along
with the learned air of the region in which he had his
chambers. In other respects, he was one of the wits of
the place, read Ovid and Martial, aimed at quick repartee
and pun. (often very far fetched,) danced, fenced, playedae

ge Soe os Ae ae _

re asin

      
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
  

WAVERLEY NOVELS.

at tennis, and performed sundry tunes on the fiddle and
French horn, to the great annoyance of old Counsellor
Barratter, who lived in the chambers immediately below
him. Such was Reginald Lowestoffe ; shrewd, alert, and
well acquainted with the town through all its recesses, but
in a sort of disrespectable way. This gallant, now ap-
proaching the Lord Glenvarloch, saluted him by name
and title, and asked if his lordship designed for the
Chevalier’s this day, observing it was near noon, and the
woodcock would be on the board ere they could reach the
ordinary.

“YT do not go there to-day,” answered Lord Glenvar-
loch.

“Which way, then, my lord?” said the young
Templar, who was perhaps not undesirous to parade a
part at least of the street in company with a lord, though
but a Scottish one.

“ J—I—” said Nigel, desiring to avail himself of this
young man’s local knowledge, yet unwilling and ashamed
to acknowledge his intention to take refuge in so disrep-
utable a quarter, or to describe the situation in which he
stood—“ TI have some curiosity to see Whitefriars.”

“What! your lordship is for a frolic into Alsatia?”
said Lowestoffe—“ Have with you, my lord, you cannot
have a better guide to the infernal regions than myself.
I promise you there are bona-robas to be found there—
good wine too, ay, and good fellows to drink it with,
though somewhat suffering under the frowns of fortune.
But your lordship will pardon me—you are the last cf
Dur acquaintance to whom I would have proposed such a
voyage of discovery.”

“Tam obliged to you, Master Lowestoffe, for the good
dpinion you have expressed in the observation,” said LordTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 319

Glenvarloch ; “but my present circumstances may render
even a residence of a day or two in the sanctuary a matter
of necessity.”

“ Indeed,” said Lowestoffe, in a tone of great Surprise ;
“J thought your lordship had always taken care not to
risk any considerable stake—I beg pardon, but if the
just so much law

e

bones have proved perfidious, I know
as that a peer’s person is sacred from arrest; and for
mere impecuniosity, my lord, better shift can be made
elsewhere than in Whitefriars, where all are devouring
each other for very poverty.”

“ My misfortune has no connexion with want of money,”
said Nigel.

“ Why, then, I suppose,” said Lowestoffe, “ you have
been tilting, my lord, and have pinked your man; in
which case, and with a purse reasonably furnished, you
may lie perdu in Whitefriars for a twelvemonth—Marry,
but you must be entered and received as a member of
their worshipful society, my lord, and a frank burgher of
Alsatia—so far you must condescend; there will be
neither peace nor safety for you else.”

“My fault is not in a degree so deadly, Master Lowe-
stoffe,’? answered Lord Glenvarloch, “as you seem to
conjecture—I have stricken a gentleman in the Park.
that is all.”

“By my hand, my lord, and you had better have
struck your sword through him at Barns Elms,” said
the Templar. “Strike within the verge of the Court!
You will find that a weighty dependence upon your
hands, especially if your party be of rank and have
favour.”

«J will be plain with you, Master Lowestoffe,” said
Nigel, “since I have gone thus far. The person whom |mens tes

 

Fo nce ae
ey grist nena ee : a %

     

320 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

struck was Lord Dalgarno, whom you have seen at
Beaujeu’s.”

“A follower and favourite of the Duke of Bucking-
ham !—It is a most unhappy chance, my lord; but my
heart was formed in England, and cannot bear to see a
young nobleman borne down, as you are like to be. We
converse here greatly too open for your circumstances.
The Templars would suffer no bailiff to execute a writ,
aud no gentleman to be arrested for a duel within their
precincts ; but in-such a matter between Lord Dalgarno
and your lordship, there might be a party on either side.
You must away with me instantly to my poor chambers
here, hard by, and undergo some little change of dress,
ere you take sanctuary; for else you will have the whole
rascal rout of the Friars about you, like crows upon a
falcon that strays into their rookery. We must have you
arrayed something more like the natives of Alsatia, or
there will be no life there for you.”

While Lowestoffe spoke, he pulled Lord Glenvarloch
along with him into his chambers, where he had a hand-
some library, filled with all the poems and play-books
which were then in fashion. The Templar then de-
spatched a boy, who waited upon him, to procure a dish
or two from the next cook’s shop; “and this,” he said,
“must be your lordship’s dinner, with a glass of old sack,
of which my grandmother (the heavens requite her !)
sent me a dozen bottles, with charge to use the liquor
only with clarified whey, when I felt my breast ache with
over study. Marry, we will drink the good lady’s health
in Ht, if it is your lordship’s pleasure, and you
how we poor students ek
hall.”

The outward door of the chaml

shall see
€ out our mutton-commons in the

9ers was barred so soon

ee eaeTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 321

as the boy had re-entered with the food; the boy was
ordered to keep close watch, and admit no one; and
Lowestoffe, by example and precept, pressed his noble
euest to partake of his hospitality. His frank and for-
ward manners, though much differing from the courtly
ease of Lord Dalgarno, were calculated to make a
favourable impression; and Lord Glenvarloch, though
his experience of Dalgarno’s perfidy had taught him to
be cautious of reposing faith in friendly professions, could
not avoid testifying his gratitude to the young Templar,
who seemed so anxious for his safety and accommoda-
tion.

“You may spare your gratitude any great sense of
obligation, my lord,” said the Templar. ‘No doubt, I
am willing to be of use to any gentleman that has cause
to sine Yortune my foe, and particularly proud to serve
your lordship’s turn; but I have also an old grudge, to
speak Heaven’s truth, at your opposite, Lord Dalgarno.”

“May I.ask upon what account, Master Lowestoffe ?”
said Lord Glenvarloch.

“OQ, my lord,” repliéd the Templar, “it was for a
hap that chanced after you left the ordinary, one evening
about three weeks since

 

at least I think you were not
by, as your lordship always left us before deep play
began—I mean no offence, but such was your lordship’s
custom—when there were words between Lord Dalgarno
and me concerning a certain game at gleek, and a certain
mournival of aces held by his lordship, which went for

 

eight—tib, which went for fifteen—twenty-three in all.

a natural

 

Now I held king and queen, being three
and tiddy, nineteen. We vied

 

vowser, making fifteen

the ruff, and revied, as your lordship may suppose, till

the stake was equal to half my yearly exhibition, fifty as
VOL, XVII. 21322 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

fair yellow canary birds as e’er chirped in the bottom of
a green silk purse. Well, my lord, I gained the cards,
and lo you! it pleases his lordship ‘to. say that we played
without tiddy; and as the rest stood by and backed him,
and especially the sharking Frenchman, why, I was
So judge if I have not a crow to pluck with his lordship.
Was it ever heard there was a game at gleek at the
ordinary before, without counting tiddy r—marry quep

obliged to lose more than I shall gain all the season.—

 

upon his lordship !—every man who comes there with
his purse in his hand, is as free to make new laws as he,
I hope, since touch pot touch penny makes every man
equal.”

As Master Lowestoffe ran over this jargon of the
gaming-table, Lord Glenvarloch was both ashamed and
mortified, and felt a severe pang of aristocratic pride,

when he concluded in the sweepinge-clause, that the dice
oO 9 3

ed

like the grave, levelled those distinguishing points of
society, to which Nigel’s early prejudices clung perhaps
but too fondly. It was impossible, however, to object
any thing to the learned reasoning of the young Templar,
and therefore Nigel was contented to turn the conversa-
tion, by making some inquiries respecting the present
state of Whitefriars. There also his host was at home.
“You know, my lord,” said Master Lowestoffe, “that
we Templars are a power and a dominio. within our-
selves, and I am proud to say that I hold some rank in
pur republic—was treasurer to the Lord of Misrule last
year, and am at this present moment in nomination for
that dignity myself. In such circumstances, we are
under the necessity of maintaining an amicable inter-
course with our neighbours of Alsatia, even as the

Christian States find themselves often, in mere policy,THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. oa

obliged to make alliance with the Grand Turk, or the
Barbary States.”

“J should have imagined you gentlemen of the Temple
more independent of your nighbours,”’ said Lord Glen-
varloch.

“You do us something .o much honour, my lord,”
said the Templar; “the Alsatians and we have some
common enemies,-and we have, under the rose, some
common friends. We are in the use of blocking all bail-
iffs out of our bounds, and we are powerfully aided by
our neighbours, who tolerate not a rag belonging to them
within theirs. Moreover, the Alsatians have—I beg you
to understand me

 

the power of protecting or distressing

our friends, male or female, who may be obliged to seek
sanctuary within their bounds. In short, the two com-
munities serve each other, though the league is between
states of unequal quality, and I may myself say, that I
have treated of sundry weighty affairs, and have been a
negotiator well approved on both sides.—But hark—hark
—what is that?”

The sound by which Master Lowestoffe was inter-
rupted, was that of a distant horn, winded loud and
keenly, and followed by a faint and remote huzza.

“There is something doing,’ said Lowestoffe, “in the
Whitefriars ‘at this moment. That is the signal when
their privileges are invaded by tipstaff or bailiff; and at
the blast of the horn they all swarm out to the rescue, as
bees when their hive is disturbed.—Jump, Jem,” he said,
calling out to the attendant, “and see what they are doing
‘in Alsatia.—That bastard of a boy,” he continued, as the
lad, accustomed to the precipitate haste of his master,
sambled rather than ran out of the apartment, and so
llown stairs, “is worth gold in this quarter—he serves six324 WAVERLEY. NOVELS.

masters—four of them in distinct Numbers, and you
would think him present like a fairy at the mere wish of
him that for the ‘time most needs his attendance. No
scout in Oxford, no gip in Cambridge, ever matched him
in speed and intelligence. He knows the step of a dun
from that of a client, when it reaches the very bottom of
the staircase; can tell the trip of a pretty wench from
the step of a bencher, when at the upper end of the
court; and is, take him all in all—But I see your lord-
ship is anxious—May I press another cup of my kind
grandmother’s cerdial, or will you allow me to show you
my wardrobe, and act as your valet and groom of the
chamber ?”

Lord Glenvarloch hesitated not to acknowledge that he
was painfully sensible of his present situation, and anx-
ious to do what must needs be done for his extrication.

The good-natured and thoughtless young Templar
readily acquiesced, and led the way into his little bed-
room, where, from bandboxes, portmanteaus, mail-trunks,
not forgetting an old walnut-tree wardrobe, he began te
select the articles which he thought mcre suited effectu-
ally to disguise his guest in venturing into the lawless
and turbulent society of Alsatia.THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL.

CHAPTER XVII.

Come hither, young one—Mark me! Thou art now
*Mongst men o’ the sword, that live by reputation
More than by constant income—Single-suited
They are, I grant you; yet each single suit
Maintains, on the rough guess, a thousand followers-—
And they be men, who, hazarding their all,
Needful apparel, necessary income,

And human body, and immortal soul,

Do in the very deed but hazard nothing—

So strictly is that ALL bound in reversion;

Clothes to the broker, income to the usurer—

And body to disease. and soul to the foul fiend;
Who laughs to see Soldadoes and Fooladoes,

Play better than himself his game on earth.

THE MonocKs.

“Your lordship,” said Reginald Lowestoffe, “ must be
content to exchange your decent and court-beseeming
rapier, which I will retain in safe-keeping, for this broad-
sword, with an hundred-weight of rusty iron about. the
hilt, and to wear these huge-paned slops, instead of your
civil and moderate hose. We allow no cloak, for your
ruffian always walks in cuerpo; and the tarnished doub-
let of bald velvet, with its discoloured embroidery, and—
I grieve to speak it

 

a few stains from the blood of the
grape, will best suit the garb of a roaring boy. I will
leave you to change your suit for an instant, till I can
help to truss you.”

Lowestoffe retired, while slowly, and with hesitation,
Nigel obeyed his instructions. He felt displeasure andee eae

OO Ae NE Sn AE.

eR Son Ritu oe 2
1 PUTER RTE er TRT ake 2 5

326 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

disgust at the scoundrelly disguise which he was under
the necessity of assuming; but, when he considered the
bloody consequences which law attached to this rash act
of violence, the easy and indifferent temper of James, the
prejudices of his son, the overbearing influence of the
Duke of Buckingham, which was sure to be thrown into
the scale against him ; and, above all, when he reflected
that he must now look upon the active, assiduous, and in-
sinuating Lord Dalgarno as a bitter enemy, reason told
him he was in a situation of peril which authorized all
honest means, even the most unseemly in outward appear-
ance, to extricate himself from so dangerous a predica-
ment.

While he was changing his dress, and musing on these
particulars, his friendly host re-entered the sleeping
apartment—“ Zounds!” he said, “my lord, it was well
you went not straight into that same Alsatia of ours at
the time you proposed, for the hawks have stooped upon
it, Here is Jem come back with tidings, that he saw a
pursuivant there with a privy-council warrant, and half
a score of yeomen assistants, armed to the teeth, and the
horn which we heard was sounded to call out the posse
of the Friars. Indeed, when old Duke Hildebrod saw
that the quest was after some one of whom he knew
nothing, he permitted, out of courtesy, the man-catcher to
search through his dominions, quite certain that they
would take little by their motions; for Duke Hildebrod
is a most judicious potentate.—Go back, you bastard, and
bring us word when all is quiet.”

“And who may Duke Hildebrod be?” said Lord
Glenvarloch.

“Nouns ! my lord,” said the Templar, “ have you lived
'0 long on the town, and never heard of the valiant. andTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. Ome

as wise and politic as valiant, Duke Hildebrod, grand
protector of the liberties of Alsatia? I thought the man
had never whirled a die-but was familiar with his fame.”

“ Yet I have never heard of him, Master Lowestoffe,”
said Lord Glenvarloch; “or, what is the same thing, I
have paid no attention to aught that may have passed in
conversation respecting him.”

 

“Why, then,” said Lowestoffe,—*“ but, first, let me
have the honour of trussing you. Now, observe, I have
left several of the points untied, of set purpose ; and if
it please you to let a small portion of your shirt be seen
betwixt your doublet and the band of your upper stock,
it will have so much the more rakish effect, and will at-
tract you respect in Alsatia, where linen is something
scarce. Now, I tie some of the points carefully asquint,
for your ruffianly gallant never appears too accurately
trussed

 

so.”

“ Arrange it as you will, sir,” said Nigel; “but let me
hear at least something of the conditions of the unhappy
district into which, with other wretches, I am compelled
to retreat.”

“Why, my lord,” replied the Templar, “ our neighbour-
ing state of Alsatia, which the law calls the Sanctuary
of Whitefriars, has had its mutations and revolutions lke
greater kingdoms; and, being in some sort a lawless,
arbitrary government, it follows, of course, that these
have been more frequent than our own better regulated
commonwealth of the Templars, that of Gray’s Inn, and
other similar associations, have had the fortune to wit-
ness. Our traditions and records speak of twenty revolu-
tions within the last twelve years, in which the aforesaid
itate has repeatedly changed from absolute despotism ta
‘epublicanism, not forgetting the.intermediate stages ofpope empeet

—
i aa
<a

WAVERLEY NOVELS.

oligarchy, limited monarchy, and even gynocracy ; for
I myself remember Alsatia governed for nearly nine
months by an old fishwoman. Then it fell under the
dominion of a broken attorney, who was dethroned by a
reformado captain, who, proving tyrannical, was deposed
by a hedge-parson, who was succeeded, upon resignation
of his power, by Duke Jacob Hildebrod, of that name tle
first, whom Heaven long preserve.”

« And is this potentate’s government,” said Lord Glen-
varloch, forcing himself to take some interest in the con-
versation, “of a despotic character ?”

¢ Pardon me, my lord,” said the Templar; “ this said
sovereign is too wise to incur, like many of his predeces-
sors, the odium of wielding so important an authority by
his own sole will. He has established a council of state,
who regularly meet for their morning’s draught at seven
o'clock ; convene a second time at eleven for their ante-
meridiem, or whet; and, assembling in solemn conclave
at the hour of two afternoon, for the purpose of consult-
ing for the good of the commonwealth, are so prodigal of
their labour in the service of the state, that they seldom
separate before midnight. Into this worthy senate, com-
posed partly of Duke Hildebrod’s predecessors in his high
office, whom he has associated with him to prevent the
envy attending sovereign and sole authority, I must pres-
ently introduce your lordship, that they may admit you
to the immunities of the Friars, and assign you a place
of residence.”

“Does their authority extend to such regulation ?” said
Lord Glenvarloch. |

“The council account it a main point of their privileges,
my lord,” answered Lowestoffe ; “and in fact, it is one of
the most powerful means by which they support theirTHE FORTUNES OF NIGER. 329

authority. For, when Duke Hildebrod ‘and his senate
find a topping householder in the Friars becomes discon-
tented and factious, it is but assigning him, for a lodger,
some fat bankrupt, or new residenter, whose circum-
stances require refuge, and whose purse can pay for it,
and the malecontent becomes as tractable as a lamb. As
for the poorer refugees, they let them shift as they can
but the registration of their names in the Duke’s entry-
book, and the -payment of garnish conforming to their
circumstances, is never dispensed with; and the Friars
would be a very unsafe residence for the stranger who
should dispute these points of jurisdiction.”

“ Well, Master Lowestoffe,” said Lord Glenvarloch,
“ Y must be controlled by the circumstances which dictate
to me this state of concealment—of course [ am desirous
not to betray my name and rank.”

“Tt will be highly advisable, my lord,” said Lowe-
stoffe ; “and is a case thus provided for in the statutes
of the republic, or monarchy, or whatsoever you call it.—
He who desires that no questions shall be asked him
concerning his name, cause of refuge, and the like, may
escape the usual interrogations upon payment of double
the garnish otherwise belonging to his condition. Com-
plying with this essential stipulation, your lordship may
register yourself as King of Bantam if you will, for not
a question will be asked of you. — But here comes our
scout, with news of: peace and tranquillity. Now, I will
go with your lordship myself, and present you to the’
council of Alsatia, with all the influence which I have
over them as an office-bearer in the Temple, which is not
slight ; for they have come halting off upon all occasions
when we have taken part against them, and that they
well know. ‘The time is propitious, for as the council ig330:

now met in <Alsatia, so the Temple walks are quiet.
Now, my lord, throw your cloak about you, to hide your
present exterior. You shall give it to the boy at the foot
of the stairs that go down to the Sanctuary; and as the
ballad says that Queen Eleanor sunk at Charing-Cross
nnd rose at Queenhithe, so you shall sink a nobleman in
the Temple Gardens, and rise an Alsatian at White-
friars.”

They went out accordingly, attendec
traversed the gardens, descended the stairs, and at
bottom the young Templar exclaimed,—* And now let us

sing, with Ovid,

7a fart animne mn toa dicere formoc—?
‘In nova fert animus mutatas dicere formas—

, In the same vein.

Off, off, ye lendings !” he continue
“ Via, the curtain that shadowed Borgia !—But how now,
my lord?” he continued, eee he observed Lord Glen-
varloch was really distressed at the degrading change in
his situation, cy trust you are not offended at my rattling
folly? I would but reconcile you to your present circum-
stances, and give you the tone of this strange place.
Come, cheer up; I trust it will only be your residence
for a very few days.”

Nigel was bily a abe to press his hand, and reply ina
whisper, “I am sensible of your kindness. I know I
must drink the which Ly own folly has filled for me,
Pardon me, that, at the first taste, I feel its bitterness.”

Reginald Poesia was bustlingly officious and good-
natured; but, used to live a scrambling, rakish course
of life himself, he had not the least ide: a of the extent of

©
Z| eee Se eT ae Se” aaa e be oe
Lord Glenvarloch’s mental sufferines, and thought of his

lemporary concealment as if it were merely the trick of a

wanton boy, who plays at hide-and-seek with his

tutorTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 331

With the appearance of the place, too, he was familiar—
but on his companion it produced a deep sensation.

The ancient Sanctuary at Whitefriars lay y considerably
lower than the elevated terraces and gardens of the Tents
ple, and was therefore generally inv oly ed in the damps
and fogs arising from the Thames. The brick buildings
by which it was occupied, crowded close] ‘ty on each other,
for, in a place so rarely privileged, every foot of ground
was valuable; but, erected in many cases by persons
whose funds were inadequate to their speculations, the
houses were generally insufficient, and exhibited the

©
were yet new. ‘The wailing of children, the scolding of
their mothers, the miserable exhibition of ragged linens

lamentable signs of having become ruinous while they

hung from the windows to dry, spoke the wants and dis-
tresses of the wretched inhabitants; while the sounds of
complaint were mocked and overwhelmed in the riotous
our oaths, profane songs, and boisterous laughter, that

issued from the alehouses and taverns, which, as the signs
indicated, were equal in number to all the other houses ;
and, that the full character of the place might be evident,
several faded, tinselled, and painted females, looked boldly
at the strangers from their open lattices, or more modestly
seemed busied with the cracked flower-pots, filled with
mignonette and rosemary, which were disposed in front
of the windows, to the great risk of the passengers.

“ Semi-reducta Venus,” said the Templar, pointing to
one of these nymphs, who seemed afraid of observation,
and partly concealed herself behind the casement, as she

hl;

chirped to a miserable blackbird, the tenant of a wicker
prison, which hung outside on the ps brick wall._—
“I know the face of yonder waistcoateer,” continued the

guide ; “and I could wager a rose-noble, from the posture532 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

she stands in, that she has clean head-gear, and a soiled
night-rail—But here comes two of the male inhabitants,
smoking like moving voleanoes! ‘These are roaring
blades, whom Nicotia and Trinidado serve, I dare swear,
in lieu of beef and pudding; for be it known to you, my
ford, that the King’s counterblast against the Indian weed
will no more pass current in Alsatia, than will his writ
of captias.”

As he spoke, the two smokers approached ; shaggy, un-
combed ruffians, whose enormous mustaches were turned
back over their ears, and mingled with the wild elf-locks
of their hair, much of which was seen under ‘the old
beavers which they wore aside upon their heads, while
some straggling portion escaped through the rents of the
hats aforesaid. Their tarnished plush jerking, large slops,
or trunk breeches, their broad greasy shoulder-belts, and
discoloured scarfs, and above all, the ostentatious manner
in which the one wore a broadsword, and the other an
extravagantly long rapier and poniard, marked the true
Alsatian bully, then, and for a hundred years afterwards,
a well-known character.

“Tour out,’ said the one ruffian to the other; “ tout
the bien mort twiring at the gentry cove!” *
“TI smell a spy,” replied the other, looking at Nigel.
“Chalk him across the peepers with your.cheery.” f

“Bing avast, bing avast!” replied his companion;
“yon other is rattling Reginald Lowestoffe of the Temple
—I know him; he is a good boy, and free of the prov-
nce.

So saying, and enveloping themselves in another thick

* Look sharp. See how the girl is coquetting with the strange gal.

lants !
+ Siash him over the eyes with your dagger.THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 330

tloud of smoke, they went on without farther preet-
ine.

“ Orasso in aere!” said. the Templar. “You hear
what a character the impudent knaves give me; but, so
it serves your lordship’s turn, I care not.—And, now, let
me ask your lordship what name you will assume, for we
are near the ducal palace of Duke Hildebrod.”

“T will be called Grahame,” said Nigel; “it was my
mother’s name,”

“Grime,” repeated the Templar, “will suit Alsatia
well enough—both a grim and grimy place of refuge.”

“T said Grahame, sir, not Grime,” said Nigel, some-
thing shortly, and laying an emphasis on the vowel—for
few Scotsmen understand raillery upon the subject of
their names.

“JT beg pardon, my lord,” answered the undisconcerted
punster ; “but Graam will suit the circumstance too—it
signifies tribulation in the High Dutch, and your lordship
must be considered as a man under trouble.”

Nigel laughed at the pertinacity of the Templar; who,
proceeding to point out a sign representing, or believed
to represent, a dog attacking a bull, and running at his
head in the true scientific style of onset,—“ There,” said
he, “doth faithful Duke Hildebrod deal forth laws, as
well as ale and strong waters to his faithful Alsatians.
Being a determined champion of Paris Garden, he has
chosen a sign corresponding to his habits, and he deals in
giving drink to the thirsty, that he himself may drink
without paying, and recéive pay for what is drunken by
others.—Let us enter the ever-open gate of this second
Axylus.”

As they spoke, they entered the dilapidated tavern,
which was, nevertheless, more ample in dimensions, anddo!

Be

WAVERLEY NOVELS.

less ruinous, than many houses in the same evil neigh-
bourhood. ‘Two or three haggard, ragged drawers, ran
to and fro, whose looks, like those of owls, seemed only
adapted for midnight, when other creatures sleep, and
who by day seemed b
Guided by one of these blinking Ganymedes, they en-

eared, stupid, and only half awake.

tered a room, where the feeble rays of the sun were

almost wholly eclipsed by volumes of tobacco-smoke,

rolled from the tubes of the company, while out of the
cloudy sanctuary arose the old chant of—

“Qld Sir Simon the King,
And old Sir Simon the King,
With his malmsey nose,
And his ale-dropped hose,

4

And sing hey ding-a-ding-ding.’

Duke Hildebrod, who himself condescended to chant
this ditty to his iba g ee was a monstrously fat old
man, with only one eye; and a nose which bore evidence
to the eee strength, and depth of his potations.
He wore a murrey-coloured plush jerkin, stained with the
overflowings of the tankard, and much the worse for
wear, and unbuttoned at bottom for the ease of his enor-
mous paunch. Behind him lay a favourite bull-dog,
whose round head and single black < glancing eye, as well

oe =
CO O

as the creature’s creat eee gave it a burlesque
resemblance to its maste

The well-beloved chohealen who surrounded the
uucal throne, incensed it with tobacco, pledged its occu-
pier in thick, clam amy ale, and-echoed

1 back his choral]
songs, were Satraps worthy of such a Soldan. The buff
Jerkin, bread belt, and long sword of one, s

be a Low Country soldier, whose look of scowling im-
portance, and drunken impudence, were 0

showed him te

designed to susTIIE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 335

lain his title to call himself a Roving Blade. Jt seemed
to Nigel that he had seen this fellow somewhere or other.
A hedge-parson, or buckle-begear, as that order of priest-
hood has been irreverently termed, sat on the Duke’s
left, and was easily distinguished by his torn band, flapped
hat, and the remnants of a rusty cassock. Beside the
parson sat a most wretched and meagre-looking old man,

ith a threadbare hood of coarse kersey upon his head,
and buttoned about his neck, while his pinched features,
like those of old Daniel, were illuminated by

 

——— “an eye,
Through the last look of dotage still cunning and sly.”

On his left was placed a broken attorney, who, for
some malpractices, had been struck from the roll of prac-
titioners, and who had nothing left of his profession, ex-
cepting its roguery. One or two persons of less figure,
amongst whom there was one face, which, like that of the
soldier, seemed not unknown to Nigel, though he could
not recollect where he had seen it, completed the council-
board of Jacob Duke Hildebrod.

The strangers had full time to observe all this ; for his
erace the Duke, whether irresistibly carried on by the
full tide of harmony, or whether to impress the strangers
with a proper idea of his consequence, chose to sing his
ditty to an end before addressing them, though, during
the whole time, he closely scrutinized them with his single
optic.

When Duke Hildebrod had ended his song, he in-
formed his Peers that a worthy officer of the Temple
attended them, and commanded the captain and parson to
abandon their easy chairs in behalf of the two strangers,
whom he placed on his right and left hand. The worthy> Sea a ts F e 6 ® ake
“pee oesceniony Pcie nats cchatem opie, i 2 tat eee Sen Pr APE: a Newel 3 ee = ‘ a on es = c: ‘
ee? ee ET ORR Bd PRR MAES: ntact ein y' ~ — a RPA) + peepee 5 aikbiierseh eRe ens -
oe Sues = Si sarann ; = ieee 5 Seiichi SE anes
: : : a : s

336 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

representatives of the army and the church of Alsatia
went to place themselves on a crazy form at the bottom
of the table, which, ill-calculated to sustain men of such
weight, gave way under them, and the man of the sword
and man of the gown were rolled over each other on the
floor, amidst the exulting shouts of the company. They
arose in wrath, contending which should vent his displeas-
ure in the loudest and deepest oaths, a strife in which the *
parson’s superior acquaintance with theology enabled him
greatly to excel the captain, and were at length with diffi-
culty tranquillized by the arrival of the alarmed waiters
with more stable chairs, and by a long draught of the
cooling tankard. When this commotion was appeased,
and the strangers courteously accommodated with flagons,
after the fashion of the others present, the Duke drank
prosperity to the Temple in the most gracious manner,
together with a cup of .welcome to Master Reginald
Lowestoffe ; and, this courtesy having been thankfully
accepted, the party honoured prayed permission to call
for a gallon of Rhenish, over which he proposed to open
his business.

The mention of a liquor so superior to their usual pota-
tions had an instant and most favourable effect upon the
little senate ; and its immediate appearance might be said
to secure a favourable reception of Master Lowestoffe’s
proposition, which, after a round or two had circulated, he
explained to be the admission of his friend Master Nigel
Grahame to the benefit of the sanctuary and other immu-
nities of Alsatia, in the character of a grand compounder ;
for so were those termed who paid a double fee at their
matriculation, in order to avoid laying before the senate
the peculiar circumstances which compelled them to take
refuge there.THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL.

The worthy Duke heard the proposition with glee,
which elittered in his single eye; and no wonder, as it
was a rare occurrence, and of peculiar advantage to his
private revenue. Accordingly, he commanded his ducal
register to be brought him, a huge book, secured with
brass clasps like a merchant’s ledger, and whose leaves,
stained with wine, and slabbered with tobacco Juice, bore
the names probably of as many rogues as are to be found
in the Calendar of Newgate.

Nigel was then directed to lay down two nobles as his
ransom, and to claim privilege by reciting the following
doggerel verses, which were dictated to him by the
Duke :-—

“Your suppliant, by name
Nigel Grahame,

In fear of mishap

From a shoulder-tap ;

And dreading a claw
From the talons of law,

That are sharper than briers;

His freedom to sue,
And rescue by you—
Through weapon and wit,
From warrant and writ,
From bailiff’s hand,
From tipstaff’s wand,
Is come hither to Whitefriars.”

As Duke Hildebrod with a tremulous hand began to
make the entry, and had already, with superfluous gener-
osity, spelled Nigel with two g’s instead of one, he was
interrupted by the parson.* This reverend gentleman

* This curious register is still in existence, being in possession of
that eminent antiquary Dr. Dryasdust, who liberally offered the suthor
yermission to have the autograph of Duke Hildebrod engraved as an
\Itistration of this passage. Unhappily, being rigorous as Ritson
himself in adhering to the very letter of his copy, the worthy Doetor

VOL. XXVII. 22 .338 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

had been whispering for a minute or two, not with the
captain, but with that other individual, who dwelt imper-
fectly, as we have already mentioned, in Nigel’s memory,
and being, perhaps, still something malecontent on ac-
count of the late accident, he now requested to be heard
before the registration took place.

“The person,” he said, “who hath now had the assur-
ance to propose himself as a candidate for the privileges
and immunities of this honourable society, is, in plain
terms, a beggarly Scot, and we have enough of these
locusts in London already—if we admit such palmer-
worms and caterpillars to the Sanctuary, we shall soon
have the whole nation.”

“We are not entitled to inquire,” said Duke Hilde-
brod, “ whether he be Scot, or French, or English ; seeing
he has honourably laid down his garnish, he is entitled
| to our protection.”

ay “Word of denial, most Sovereign Duke,” replied the
f parson, “I ask him no questions—his speech bewrayeth
r him—he is a Galilean—and his garnish is forfeited for
eh his assurance in coming within this our realm; and ]

4 Hk call on you, Sir Duke, to put the laws in force against
, | him ! ”
’ The Templar here rose, and was about to interrupt the
deliberations of the court, when the Duke gravely assured
1 him that he should be heard in behalf of his friend, so
| soon as the council had finished their deliberations.
The attorney next rose, and, intimating that he was te
Bil speak to the point of law, said—“ Tt was easy to be seen
| that this gentleman did not come here in any civil case,
slogged his munificence with the condition tl}

hat we should adopt the
Duke’s orthography, and entitle the work “T

he Fortunes of Niggje,”!
with which stipulation we did not think it necessary to comply.THE FORTUNES Of NIGEL. 339

and that he believed it to be the story they had already
heard of, concerning a blow given within the verge of the
Park—that the Sanctuary would not bear out the offender
in such case—and that the queer old Chief would send
down a broom which should sweep the streets of Alsatia

 

from the Strand to the Stairs; and it was even policy to
think what evil might come to their republic, by shelter-
ing an alien in such circumstances.”

The captain, who had sat impatiently while these
opinions were expressed, now sprung on his feet with the
vehemence of a cork bouncing from a bottle of brisk
beer, and, turning up his mustaches with a martial air,
east a glance of contempt on the lawyer and churchman,
while he thus expressed his opinion.

“Most noble Duke Hildebrod! When I hear such
base, skeldering, coistril propositions come from the
counsellors of your grace, and when I remember the
Huffs, the Muns, and the Tityretu’s by whom your
grace’s ancestors and predecessors were advised on such
occasions, I begin to think the spirit of action is as dead
in Alsatia as in my old grannam; and yet who thinks so
thinks a lie, since I will find as many roaring boys in the
Friars as shall keep the liberties against all the scaven-
gers of Westminster. And, if we should be overborne
for a turn, death and darkness! have we not time to send
the gentleman off by water, either to Paris Garden or to
the bankside? and, if he is a gallant of true breed, will
he not make us full amends for all the trouble we have?
J.et other societies exist by the law, I say that we brisk
boys of the Fleet live in spite of it; and thrive best
when we are in right opposition to sign and seal, writ
ynd* warrant, sergeant and tipstaff, catchpoll and bum-
bailey.”B40 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

This speech was followed by a murmur of approbation,
knd Lowestoffe, striking in before the favourable sound
had subsided, reminded the Duke and his council how
much the security of their state depended upon the amity
of the Templars, who, by closing their gates, could at
pleasure shut against the Alsatians the communication
betwixt the Friars~and the Temple,.and that as they
conducted themselves on_ this occasion, so would they
Secure or lose the benefit of his interest with his own
body, which they knew not to be inconsiderable. “ And,
in respect of my friend being a Scotsman and alien, as
has been observed by the reverend divine and learned
lawyer, you are to consider,” said Lowestoffe, “for what
he is pursued hither—why, for giving the bastinado, not
to an Englishman, but to one of his own countrymen.
And for my own simple part,” hé continued, touching
Lord Glenvarloch at the same time, to make him under-
stand he spoke but in jest, “if all the Scots in London
were to fight a Welch main, and kill each other to a man,
the survivor would, in my humble opinion, be entitled to
our gratitude, as having done a most acceptable service
to poor Old England.”

A shout of laughter and applause followed this in-
genious apology for the client’s state of alienage; and the
Templar followed up his plea with the following pithy
proposition :—“ I know well,” said he, “it is the custom
wf the fathers of this old and honourable republic, ripely
and well to consider all their proceedings over a proper
allowance of liquor; and far be it from me to propose the
breach of so laudable a custom, or to pretend that such an
affair as the present can be well and constitutionally con-
sidered during the discussion of a pitiful gallon of sack.

But, as it is the same thing to this honourable conclaveTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 341

whether they drink first and determine afterwards, or
whether they determine first and drink afterwards, I pro.
pose your grace, with the advice of your wise and potent
senators, shall pass your edict, granting to mine honour:
able friend the immunities of the place, and assigning him
a lodging, according to your wise forms, to which he will
presently retize, being somewhat spent with this day’s
action; whereupon I will presently order you a rundlet
of Rhenish, with a corresponding quantity of neats’
tongues and pickled herrings, to make you all as glorious
as George-a-Green.”

This overture was received with a general shout of
applause, which altogether drowned the voice of the dis-
sidents, if any there were amongst the Alsatian senate
who could have resisted a proposal so popular. The-
words of, “Kind heart!—noble gentleman !—generous
gallant!” flew from mouth to mouth; the inscription of
the petitioner’s name in the great book was hastily com-
pleted, and the oath administered to him by the worthy
Doge. Like the Laws of the Twelve Tables, of the
ancient Cambro-Britons, and other primitive nations, it
was couched in poetry, and ran as follows :—

“ By spigot and barrel,
By bilboe and buff;
Thou art sworn to the quarrel
Of the blades of the huff.
For Whitefriars and its claims
To be champion or martyr,
And to fight for its dames
Like a Knight of the Garter.”

Nigel felt, and indeed exhibited, some disgust at this
mummery ; but, the Templar’ reminding him that he was

too far advanced to draw back, he repeated the words, or
92%rather assented as they were repeated by Duke Hilde-
brod, who concluded the ceremony by allowing him the
privilege of sanctuary, it

+

tive doggerel =

“From the touch of the tip,
From the bligh
From the watchmen who skip
On the Harman Beck’s errand;
From the bailiff’s oe een,
That makes man ¢
I charm thee from each

And I

To bec

To be cuff’d a
To stride, sw car,

To drink

To stare
And to brandish your dagger
In the cause of your drab;
To walk wool-ward in winter,
Drink brand dy, and seen
And go fresco in s
For want of a ee :
To eke out your living
By the wag of your elbow,
By fulham and gour d,
And by baring of bilboe
To live by your sh 1ifts,
And to swear by your honour,—
Are the freedom and gifts
Of which I am the donor.” *

This homily being pe

® Of the cant words used in this Inauguratory

obvious in their meaning,

the Slang Dictionary.

   
 
  
 
  
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
  
  
 
  
  
    
 
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
  
   
    
   
 

342 WAVERLEY

the following form of prescrip-

[ charm thee fain all.
Thy freedom’s complete
As a Blade

till you uraae

ute arose concerne«

others, as Harman Bee (

conga set and
the like, derive their source fr

that ancient piece of lexicographyTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 343

ing the special residence to be assigned the new brother
of the Sanctuary; for, as the Alsatians held it a maxim
in their commonwealth that ass’s milk fattens, there was
nsually a competition among the inhabitants which should
have the managing, as it was termed, of a new member
of the society.

The Hector who had spoken so warmly and critically
in Nigel’s behalf, stood out now chivalrously in behalf of
a certain Blowselinda, or Bonstrops, who had, it seems, a
room to hire, once the occasional residence .of Slicing
Dick of Paddington, who lately suffered at Tyburn, and
whose untimely exit had been hitherto mourned by the
damsel in solitary widowhood, after the fashion of the
turtle-dove.

The captain’s interest was, however, overruled,’ in
behalf of the old gentleman in the kersey hood, who was
believed, even at his extreme age, to understand the
plucking of a pigeon, as well, or better, than any man of
Alsatia.

This venerable personage was an usurer of some noto-
riety, called Trapbois, and had very lately done the state
considerable service in advancing a subsidy necessary to
secure a fresh importation of liquors to the Duke’s cellars,
the wine-merchant at the Vintry being scrupulous to deal
with so great a man for any thing but ready money.

When, therefore, the old gentleman arose, and, with
much coughing, reminded the Duke that he had a poor
apartment to let, the claims of all others were set aside,
and Nigel was assigned to Trapbois as his guest.

No sooner was this arrangement made, than Lord
Glenvarloch expressed to Lowestoffe his impatience to
leave this discreditable assembly, and took his leave with
@ careless haste, which, but for the rundlet of RhenishB44 WAVERI.EY NOVELS.

wine that entered just as he left the apartment, might
have been taken in bad part. The young Templar ae-
companied his friend to the house of the old usurer, with
the road to which he and some other youngsters about the
Temple were even but too well acquainted. On the way,
he assured Lord Glenvarloch that he was going to the
only clean house in Whitefriars; a pope which it
owed solely to the exertions of the old man’s only daugh-
ter, an elderly damsel, ugly enough to frighten sin, yet
likely to be wealthy enough to tempt a puritan, so soon
as the devil had got her old dad for his due. As Lowes-
toffe spoke thus, they knocked at the door of the house,
and the sour stern countenance of the female by whom it
was opened fully confirmed all that the Templar had said
of the hostess. She heard, with an ungracious and dis:

contented air, the young Templar’s information, that the
gentleman, his companion, was to be her father’s lodger

muttered something about the trouble it was likely to
occasion, but ended by showing the stranger’s apartment,

which was better than could have been augured from the
general appearance of the place, and much larger in ex-
tent than that which he had occupied at Paul’s Wharf,
though inferior to it in neatness.

Towestofie, having thus seen his friend fair ‘ly installed
in his new apartment, and having obtained for him a note
of the rate at which he could be accommodated with
victuals from a neighbouring cook’s shop, now took his
leave, offering, at the same time, to send the whole, or any
part of Lord Glenvarloch’s baggage, from his former
place of residence to his new lodging. Nigel mentioned
so few articles, that the Templar could not help observ-

g, that his lordship, it would seem, did not intend to
ae his new privileges long.THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 345

“They are too little suited to my habits and taste, that
t should do so,” replied Lord Glenvarloch.

“You may change your opinion to-morrow,” said
Lowestoffe ; “and so I wish you good even. ‘To-morrow
I will visit you betimes.”

The morning came, but, instead of the Templar, it
brought only a letter from him. The epistle stated, that
Lowestoffe’s visits to Alsatia had drawn down the ani-
madversions of some crabbed old panialoons among the
benchers, and that he judged it wise not to come hither
at present, for fear of attracting too much attention to
Lord Glenvarloch’s place of residence. He stated, that
he had taken measures for the safety of his baggage, and
would send him, by a safe hand, his money-casket, and
what articles he wanted. Then followed some sage ad-
vices, dictated by Lowestoffe’s acquaintance with Alsatia
and its manners. He advised him to keep the usurer in
the most absolute uncertainty concerning the state of his
funds—never to throw a main with the captain, who was
in the habit of playing dry-fisted, and paying his losses
with three vowels; and, finally, to beware of Duke Hilde-
brod, who was as sharp, he said, as a needle, though he
had no more eyes than are possessed by that necessary
implement of female industry.

EXD OF VOL. LTHE FORTUNES~OF NIGEL.‘4
j

SATHE FORTUNES OF

CHAPTER XVIII.

Mother —What! dazzled by a flash of Cupid’s mirror,
With which the boy, as mortal urchins wont,
Flings back the sunbeam in the eye of passengers—
Then laughs to see them stumble!

Daughter.—Mother! no—
It was a lightning-flash which dazzled me,
And never shall these eyes see true again.

BEEF AND PuppING.—AN OLD ENGLISH COMEDY.

Ir is necessary that we should leave our hero Nigel for
a time, although ina situation neither safe, comfortable,
nor creditable, in order to detailesome particulars which
have immediate connexion with his fortunes.

It was but the third day after he had been forced to
take refuge in the house of old Trapbois, the noted usurer
of Whitefriars, commonly called Golden Trapbois, when
the pretty daughter of old Ramsay, the watchmaker, after
father finish his breakfast, (from
the fear that he might in an abstruse fit of thought, swal-
low the salt-cellar instead of a crust of the brown loaf,)
set forth from the house as soon as he was again plunged
into the depth of calculatéen, and, accompanied only by
that faithful old drudge, Janet, the Scots laundress, to

having piously seen heres om ‘
FON Syn

espe
le

 

  
 
  
 
 
 
 
  
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
   
  
  
    
 

6 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

whom her whims were laws, made her way to Lombard
Street, and disturbed, at the unusual hour of eight in
the morning, Aunt Judith, the sister of her worthy god-
father. :

The venerable maiden received her young visitor with
no great complacency; for, naturally enough, she had
neither the same admiration of her very pretty counte-
nance, nor allowance for her foolish and girlish impa-
tience of temper, which Master George Heriot enter-
tained. Still Mistress Margaret was a favourite of her
brother’s, whose will was to Aunt Judith a supreme law ;
and she contented herself with asking her untimely
visitor, “what she made so early with her pale, chitty
face, in the streets of London?”

“I would speak with the Lady Hermione,” answered
the almost breathless girl, while the blood ran so fast
to her face as totally to remove the objection of
paleness which Aunt Judith had made to her com-
plexion.

“With the Lady Hermione?” said Aunt Judith—
“with the Lady Hermione? and at this time in the
morning, when she will scarce see any of the family even
at seasonable hours? You are crazy, you silly wench, or
you abuse the indulgence which my brother and the lady
have shown to you.”

“Indeed, indeed I have not,” repeated Margaret,
struggling to retain the unbidden tear which seemed
ready to burst out on the slightest occasion. “Do bus
say to the lady that your brother’s god-daughter desires
earnestly to speak to her, and I know she will not refuse
to see me.”

Aunt Judith bent an earnest, suspicious, and inquisitive

glance on her young visitor. “You might make me your

gTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. q

Q }

secretary, my lassie,” she said, “as well as the Lady
Hermione. Iam older, and better skilled to advise. I
live more in the world than one who shuts herself up
within four rooms, and I have the better means to assist
you.”

“ Oh! no—no—no,” said Margaret eagerly, and with
more earnest sincerity than complaisance; “there are
some things to which you cannot advise me, Aunt Judith.
a case beyond

 

It is a case—pardon me, my dear aunt
your counsel.”

“Tam glad on’t, maiden,” said Aunt Judith, somewhat
angrily; “ for I think the follies of the young. people of
this. generation would drive mad an old brain like mine.
Here you come on the viretot, through the whole streets
of London, to talk some nonsense to a lady, who scarce
sees God’s sun, but when he shines on a brick wall. But
I will tell her you are here.”

She went away, and shortly returned with a dry—
“Mistress Marget, the lady will be glad to see you; and
that’s more, my young madam, than you hada right to
count upon.”

Mistress Margaret hung her head in silence, too much
perplexed by the train of her own embarrassed thoughts,
for attempting either to conciliate Aunt Judith’s kind-
ness, or, which on other occasions would have been
as congenial to* her own humour, to retaliate on her
cross-tempered remarks and manner. She followed
Aunt Judith, therefore, in silence and dejection, to the
strong oaken door which divided the Lady Hermione’s
apartments from the rest of George Heriot’s spacious
house.

At the door of this sanctaary it is necessary to pause,
m order to correct the reports with which Richie Mont8 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

plies had filled his master’s ear, respecting the singular
appearance of that lady’s attendance at prayers, whom
we now own to be by name the Lady Hermione. Some
part of these exaggerations had been communicated to
the worthy Scotsman by Jenkin Vincent, who was well
experier eed 1 the species of wit which has been long a
favourite in ae city, under the names of crossbiting,
giving the dor, bamboozling, cramming, hoaxing, hum-
bugging, and quizzing; for which sport Richie Moniplies,
with his solemn gravity, totally unapprehensive of a joke,
and his natura propensity to the marvellous, formed an
admirable subject. Farther ornaments the tale had re-
ceived from Richie himself, whose toncue. especially
when oiled with good Fathi had a considerable tendency
to amplification, and who failed not, while he retailed to
his master all the wonderful circumstances narrated by
Vincent, to add to them many conjectures of his own,
which his imagination had over-hastily converted
facts.

Yet the life which Lady Hermione had led for two

into

years, during which she had been the inmate of George

Heriot’s house, was so singular, as almost to sanction

many of the wild reports which went abroad. The house
which the worthy goldsmith inhabited, had in former times
belonged to a powerful and wealthy baronial family,
which, during, the reion of ma. VIL. terminated in a
lowager lady, very wealthy, very devout,
alienably attached to the Catholic
friend of the Honourab] Ne Lady Foljambe was the Abbess
of Saint Roque’s N Vunnery, like herself 4 conscientious,
rigid, and devoted Papist. When the house. of Saint

Roque was despotically dissolved by the fiat of the im-

and most in-

faith. The chosen

betuous monarch, the Lady Foljambe received her friendTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 9

into her spacious mansion, together with two vestal sisters,
who, like their Abbess, were determined to follow the
tenor of their vows, instead of embracing the profane
liberty which the Monarch’s will had thrown in their
choice. For their residence, the Lady Foljambe con-
trived, with all secrecy

 

for Henry might not have
relished her interference—to set apart a suite of four
rooms, with a little closet fitted up as an oratory, or
ehapel; the whole apartment fenced by a strong oaken
door to exclude strangers, and accommodated with a
turning wheel to receive necessaries, according to the
practice of all nunneries. In this retreat, the Abbess of
Saint Roque and her attendants passed many years, com-
municating only with the Lady Foljambe, who, in virtue
of their prayers, and of the support she afforded them,
accounted herself little less than a saint on earth. ‘The
Abbess, fortunately for herself, died before her munificent
patroness, who lived deep in Queen Elizabeth’s time, ere
she was summoned by fate.

The Lady Foljambe was succeeded in this mansion by
a sour fanatic knight, a distant and collateral relation,
who claimed the same merit for expelling the priestess
of Baal, which his predecessor had founded on maintain-
ing the votaresses of Heaven. Of the two unhappy
nuns, driven from their ancient refuge, one went beyond
sea ; the other, unable from old age to undertake such a
journey, died under the root ‘of a faithful Catholic widow
of low degree. Sir Paul Crambagge, having got rid of
the nuns, spoiled the chapel of its ornaments, and had
thoughts of altogether destroying the apartment, until
checked by the reflection that the operation would be an
unnecessary expense, since he only inhabited three rooms
of the large mansion, and had not therefore the slightestSPcnee-eensthi > — anemia

j
'

 

=. “oon et: {ERS ogee . ek

10 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

occasion for any addition to its accommodations. His
son proved a waster and a prodigal, and from him the
house was bought by our friend George Heriot, who,
finding, like Sir Paul, the house more than sufficiently
ample for his accommodation, left the Foljambe apart-
ment, or Saint Roque’s rooms, as they were called, in the
state in which he found them.

About two years and a half before our history opened,
when Heriot was absent upon an expedition to the Con-
tinent, he sent special orders to his sister and his cash-
keeper, directing that the Foljambe apartment should be
fitted up handsomely, though plainly, for the reception
of a lady, who would make it her residence for some
time; and who would live more or less with his own
family according to her pleasure. He also directed, that
the necessary repairs should be made with secrecy, and
that as little should be said as possible upon the subject
of his letter.

When the time of his return came nich, Aunt Judith
and the household were on the tenter-hooks of im-
patience. Master George came, as he had intimated,
accompanied by a lady, so eminently beautiful, that, had
it not been for her extreme and uniform paleness, she
might have been reckoned one of the loveliest creatures
on earth. She had with her an attendant or humble
companion, whose business seemed only to wait upon
her. This person, a reserved woman. and by her dialect
a foreigner, aged about fifty, was called by the lady
Monna Paula, and by Master Heriot, and pthare: Made-
moiselle Pauline. She slept in the same room with her
patroness at night, ate in her apartment, and was scarcely
ever separated from her during the day.

ig Re 2 Bleck oS z ° re pte
These females took possession of the nunnery of theTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 1]

devout Abbess, and, without observing the same rigorous
seclusion, according to the letter, seemed wellnigh to
restore the apartment to the use to which it had been
riginally designed. The new inmates lived and took
their meals apart from the rest of the family. With the
domestics Lady Hermione, for so she was termed, held
no communication, and Mademoiselle Pauline only such
as was indispensable, which she despatched as briefly as
possible. Frequent and liberal largesses reconciled the
servants to this conduct; and they were in the habit of
observing to each other, that to do a service for Made-
moiselle Pauline, was like finding a fairy treasure.

To Aunt, Judith the Lady Hermione was kind and
civil, but their intercourse was rare; on which account
the elder lady felt some pangs both of curiosity and in-
jured dignity. But she knew her brother so well, and
loved him so dearly, that his will, once expressed, might
he truly said to become her own. The worthy citizen
was not without a spice, of the dogmatism which grows
on the best disposition, when a word is a law to all
around. Master George did not endure to be questioned
by his family, and, when he had generally expressed his
will, that the Lady Hermione should live in the way
most agreeable to her, and that no inquiries should be
made concerning her history, or her motives for observ-
ing such strict seclusion, his sister well knew that he
would have been seriously displeased with any attempt
to pry into the secret.

But, though Heriot’s servants were bribed, and his
sister awed into silent acquiescence in these arrange-
ments, they were not of a nature to escape the critical.
gbservation of the neighbourhood. Some opined that the
wealthy goldsmith was about to turn Papist, and re-establishWAVERLEY NOVELS

Lady Foljambe’s nunnery—others that he was going
mad—others that he was either going to marry, or to do
worse. Master George’s constant appearance at church,
and the knowledge that the supposed votaress always
attended when the prayers of the English ritual were
pn in the family, liberated him from the first of these

suspicions; those who had to transact business with him

; ’Change, could not doubt the soundness of Master

Hier ot’s mind; and, to confute the other rumours, it was
redibly reported by such as made the matter their par-

a interest, that. Master George Heriot never visited

his guest but in the presence of Mademoiselle Pauline

who sat with her work in a remote part of the same room
in which they conversed. It was also ascertained that
these visits scarcely ever exceeded an hour in length,
and were usually only repeated once a-week, an inter-
course too brief and too long interrupted, to render it
probable that love was the bond of their union.

The inquirers were, therefore, at fault, and compelled
to relinquish the pursuit of Master Heriot’s secret, while
a thousand ridiculous tales were circulated amongst the
ignorant and superstitious, with some gs) pecimens of which
our friend Richie Moniplies had been crammed, as we
have seen, by the malicious apprentice of worthy David
Ramsay.

There was one person in the world who, it was thought,
could (if she would) have said more of the Lad y Her.
mione than any one in London, except George Heriot
himself; and that was the said David
child, Margaret.

This girl was not much past the age of fifteen when
the Lady Hermione first came to England, and was a
very frequent visitor at her godfather’s, who was much

Ra umsay’ Ss onlyTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 13

amused by her childish sallies, and by the wild and
natural beauty with which she sung the airs of her native
country. Spoilt she was on all hands; by the indul-
gence of her godfather, the absent habits and indifference
of her father, the deference of all around to her ca-
prices, as a beauty and as an heiress. But though, from
these circumstances, the city beauty had become as wilful,
“as capricious, and as affected, as unlimited indulgence
seldom fails to render those to whom it is extended ; and
although she exhibited upon many occasions that affecta-
tion of extreme shyness, silence, and reserve, which
misses in their teens are apt to take for an amiable mo-
desty ; and, upon others, a considerable portion of that
flippancy, which youth sometimes confounds with wit,
Mistress Margaret had much real shrewdness and judg-
ment, which wanted only opportunities of observation to
refine it—a lively, good-humoured, playful disposition,
and an excellent heart. Her acquired follies were much
increased by reading plays and romances, to which she |
devoted a great deal of her time, and from which she
adopted ideas as different as possible from those which
she might have obtained from the invaluable and affec-
tionate instructions of an excellent mother; and the
freaks of which she was sometimes guilty, rendered her
not unjustly liable to the charge of affectation and ceo-
quetry. But the little lass had sense and shrewdness
enough to keep her failings out of sight of her godfather,
to whom she was sincerely attached ; and so high she
stood in his favour, that, at his recommendation, she ob-
tained permission to visit the recluse Lady Hermione.
The singular mode of life which that lady observed;
her great beauty, rendered even more interesting by her
extreme paleness; the conscious pride of being admitted14 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

 

farther than the rest of the world into the society of a
person who was wrapped in so much mystery, made a
deep impression on the mind of Margaret Ramsay ; and
though their conversations were at no time either long
or confidential, yet, te met the trust reposed in her,
Margaret was as secret respecting their tenor as if every
word repeated had been to cost her life. No inquiry,
however artfully backed by flattery and imsinuation,
whether on the part of Dame Ursula, or any other
person equally inquisitive, could wring from the little
maiden one word of what she heard or saw, after she
entered these mysterious and secluded apartments. The
shghtest question concerning Master Heriot’s ghost, was
sufficient, at her gayest moment, to check the current of
her communicative prattle, and render her silent.

We mention this, chiefly to illustrate the early strength
of Margaret’s character—a strength concealed under a
hundred freakish whims and humours, as an ancient and
massive buttress is disguised by its fantastic covering
of ivy and wild flowers. In truth, if the damsel had
told all she heard or saw within the Foljambe apart
ments, she would have said but little to gratify the curi’
osity of inquirers.

At the earlier period of their acquaintance, the Lady
Hermione was wont to reward the attentions of her little
friend with small but elegant presents, and entertain her
by a display of foreign rarities and curiosities, many of
them of considerable value. Sometimes the time was
passed in a way much less agreeable to Margaret, by her
receiving lessons from Pauline in the use of the needle.
But, although her preceptress practised these arts with a
dexterity then only known in foreign convents, the pupil
proved so incorrigibly idle and awkward, that the task ofTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 15

needle-work was at length given up, and lessons of music
substituted in their stead. Here also Pauline was ex-
eellently qualified as an instructress, and Margaret, more.

successful ‘in a science for which Nature had gifted her,
made proficiency both in vocal and instrumental music.
These lessons passed in presence of the Lady Hermione,
to whom they seemed to give pleasure. She sometimes
added ‘her own voice to the performance, in a pure, clear
stream of liquid melody; but this was only when the
music was of a devotional cast. As Margaret became
older, her communications with the recluse assumed a
different character. She was allowed if not encouraged,
to tell whatever she had remarked out of doors, and the
Lady Hermione, while she remarked the quick, sharp,
and retentive powers of observation possessed by her
young friend, often found sufficient reason to caution her
against rashness in forming opinions, and giddy petulance
in expressing them.

The habitual awe with which she regarded this sin-
gular personage, induced Mistress Margaret, though by
no means delighting in contradiction or reproof, to listen
with patience to her admonitions, and to make full allow-
ance for the good intentions of the patroness by whom
they were bestowed ; although in her heart she could
hardly conceive how Madame Hermione, who never
stirred from the Foljambe apartments, should think of
teaching knowledge of the world to one who walked twice
a-week between Temple-Bar and Lombard Street, be-
sides parading in the Park every Sunday that proved to
be fair weather. Indeed, pretty Mistress Margaret was

so little inclined to endure such remonstrances, that her

intercourse with the inhabitants of the Foljambe apart-
ments would have: probably slackened as her circle of16 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

acquaintance increased in the external world, had she
not, on the one hand, entertained an habitual reverence
for her monitress, of which she could not divest herself,
and been flattered, on the other, by being, to a certain
degree, the depositary of a confidence for which others
thirsted in vain. Besides, although the conversation of
Hermione was uniformly serious, it was not in general
either formal or severe; nor was the lady offended by
flights of levity which Mistress Margaret sometimes ven-
tured on in her presence, even when they were such as
made Monna Paula cast her eyes upwards, and sigh with
that compassion which a devotee extends towards the
votaries of a trivial and profane world. ‘Thus, upon the
whole, the little maiden was disposed to submit, though
not without some wincing, to the grave admonitions of
the Lady Hermione; and the rather that the mystery
annexed to the person of her monitress was in her mind
early associated with a vague idea of wealth and impor-
tance, which had been rather confirmed than lessened by
many accidental circumstances which she had noticed
since she was more capable of observation,

It frequently happens, that the counsel which we
reckon intrusive when offered to us unasked, becomes
precious in our eyes when the pressure of difficulties
renders us more diffident of our own judgment than we
are apt to find ourselves in the hours of ease and indif-
ference ; and this is more especially the case if we sup-
pose that our adviser may also possess power and in-
clination to back his counsel with effectual assistance.
Mistress Margaret was now in that situation. - She was.
or believed herself to be, in a condition where both
advice and assistance might be necessary; and it was

therefore, after an anxious and sleepless night, that she

©THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL, 17

resolved to have recourse to the Lady Hermione, who
she knew would readily afford her the one, and, as she

hoped, might also possess means of giving her the other.

The conversation between them will best explain the
purport of the visit.WAVERLEY NOVELS.

CHAPTER XIX.

By this good light, a wench of matchless mettle!
This were a leaguer-lass to love a soldier,

To bind his wounds, and kiss his bloody brow,

And sing a roundel as she help’d to arm him,

Though the rough foeman’s drums were beat sc nigh,
They seem’d to bear the burden.

OLD Pray.

Wuen Mistress Margaret entered the Foljambe apart-
ment, she found the inmates employed in their usual
manner; the lady in reading, and her attendant in em-
broidering a large piece of tapestry, which had occupied
her ever since Margaret had been first admitted within
these secluded chambers.

Hermione nodded kindly to her visitor, but did not
speak; and Margaret, accustomed to this reception, and
in the present case not sorry for it, as it gave her an in-
terval to collect her thoughts, stooped over Monna Paula’s

frame, and observed, in a half whisper, “ You were just

 

so far as that rose, Monna, when I first saw you—see, ;
there is the mark where I had the bad luck to spoil the
flower in trying to catch the stitch—I was little above
fifteen then. These flowers make me an old woman,
Monna Paula.”

“YT wish they could make you a wise one, my child”
answered Monna Paula, in whose esteem pretty Mistress
Margaret did not stand quite so high as in that of her
patroness; partly owing to her natural austerity, whichTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 19

vy

was something intolerant of youth and gaiety, and partly
to the jealousy with which a favourite domestic regards
any one whom she considers as a sort of rival in the
affections of her mistress.

“What is it you say to Monna, little one?” asked the
lady.

“Nothing, madam,” replied Mistress Margaret, “ but
that I have seen the real flowers blossom three times over
sinc> I first saw Monna Paula working in her canvas
garden, and her violets have not budded yet.”

“True, lady-bird,’ replied Hermione ; “but the buds
that are longest in blossoming will last the longest in
flower. You have seen them in the garden bloom thrice,
but you have. seen them fade thrice also; now Monna
Paula’s will remain in blow forever—they will fear
neither frost nor tempest.”

“True, madam,” answered Mistress Margaret; “ but
neither have they life or odour.”

“ That, little one,” replied the recluse, “is to compare
a life agitated by hope and fear, and chequered with suc-
cess and disappointment, and fevered by the effects of
love and hatred, a life of passion and of feeling, saddened
and shortened by its exhausting alternations, to a calm
and tranquil existence, animated but by a sense of duties,
and only employed, during its smooth and quiet course,
in the unwearied discharge of theta. Is that the moral
of your answer ?”

“do not know, madam,” answered, Mistress Marga-
ret; “but, of all birds in the air, I would rather be the
lark that sings while he is drifting down the summer
breeze; than the weather-cock that sticks fast yonder
gpon his iron perch, and just moves so much as to dis-
sharge his duty, and tell us which way the wind blows,”20 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

“‘ Metaphors are no arguments, my pretty maiden,” said
the Lady Hermione, smiling.

“Iam sorry for that, madam,” answered Margaret;
“ for they are such a pretty indirect way of telling one’s
mind when it differs from one’s betters—hbesides, on this
subject there is no end of them, and they are so civil and
becoming withal.”

“Indeed?” replied the lady; “let me hear some of
them, I pray you.”

“Tt would be, for example, very bold in me,” said
Margaret, “to say to your ladyship, that, rather than live
a quiet life, I would like a little variety of hope and fear,
and liking and disliking—and—and—and the other sort
of feelings which your ladyship. is pleased to speak of ;
but. I may say freely, and without blame, that I like a
butterfly better than a beetle, or a trembling aspen better
or that, of

 

than a grim Scots fir, that never wags a leaf:
all the wood, brass, and wire that ever my father’s fingers
put together, I do hate and detest a certain huge old
clock of the German fashion, that rings hours and half
hours, and quarters and half quarters, as if it was of such
consequence that the world should know it was wound up
and going. Now, dearest lady, I wish you would only
compare that clumsy, clanging, Dutch-looking piece of
lumber, with the beautiful time-piece that Master Heriot
caused my father to make for your ladyship, which uses
to play a hundred merry tunes, and turns out, when it
strikes the hour, a whole band of morrice-dancers to ‘rip
the hays to the measure.”

“ And which of these time-pieces goes the truest, Mar-
garet °” said the lady.

“IT must confess, the old Dutchman has the advantage
in that,” said Margaret. “I fancy you are right, madam,THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. ai

and that comparisons are no arguments ; at least mine has
not brought me through.”

“ Upon my word, maiden Margaret,” said the lady,
smiling, “you have been of late thinking very much of
these matters.”

“ Perhaps too much, madam,” said Margaret, so low as
only to be heard by the lady, behind the back of whose
chair she had now placed herself. The words were
spoken very gravely, and accompanied by a half sigh,
which did not escape the attention of her to whom they
were addressed. ‘The lady Hermione turned immedi-
ately round, and looked earnestly at Margaret, then
paused for a moment, and, finally, commanded Monna
Paula to carry her frame and smbroidery into the ante-
chamber. When they were left alone, she desired her
young friend to come from behind the chair, on the back
of which she still rested, and sit down beside her upon
a stool.

“J will remain thus, madam, under your favour,”
answered Margaret, without changing her posture ; oF
would rather you heard me without seeing me.”

“In God’s name, maiden,” returned her patroness,
“ what is it you can have to say, that may not be uttered
face to face, to so true a friend as Tam?”

Without making any direct answer, Margaret only re-
plied, “ You were right, dearest lady, when you said, I
had suffered my feelings too much to engross me of late.
I have done very wrong, and you will be angry with me
—so will my godfather, but I cannot help it—he must be
rescued.”

“ He?” repeated the lady, with emphasis ; “that brief
little word does, indeed, so far explain your mystery 5—
but come from behind the chair, you silly popinjay ! Jsate habemnect Pinel eaD PTO Ein Sag at

22 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

will wager you have suffered yonder gay young appren-
tice to sit too near your heart. Ihave not heard-you
mention young Vincent for many a day—perhaps he has
not been out of mouth, and out of mind both. Have you
been so foolish as to let him speak to you seriously ?—I
ain told he is a bold youth.”

“ Not bold enough to say anything that could displease
me, madam,” said Margaret.

“ Perhaps, then, you were not displeased,” said the
lady; “or perhaps he has not spoken, which would be

 

wiser and better. Be open-hearted, my love—your god-
father will soon return, and we will take him into our
consultations. Ifthe young man is industrious, and come
of honest parentage, his poverty may be no such insur-
mountable obstacle. But you are both of you very
young, Margaret—I know your godfather will expect
that the youth shall first serve out his apprenticeship.”
Margaret had hitherto suffered the lady to proceed,
under the mistaken impression which she had adopted,
simply because she could not tell how to interrupt her
but pure despite at hearing her last words gave her bold-
ness at length to say, “I crave your pardon, madam; but
neither the youth you mention, nor any apprentice or
master within the city of London”

 

“ Margaret,” said the lady in reply, “the contemptuous
tone with which you mention those of your own class,
(many hundreds, if not thousands of whom, are in all
respects better than yourself, and would greatly honour
you by thinking of you,) is, methinks, no warrant for the
wisdom of your choice

 

for a choice, it seems, there is
Who is it, maiden, to whom you have thus rashly attached
yourself ?—rashly, I fear it must be.”

( See Fc “N
It is the young Scottish Lord Glenvarloch, madam,THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 23

answered Margaret, in a low and modest tone, but suffi-
ciently firm, considering the subject.

99

“The young Lord of Glenvarloch!” repeated the lady

 

in great surprise—* Maiden, you are distracted in your
wits.”

“J knew you would say so, madam,’ answered Mar-
garet. “It is what another person has already told me
—it is, perhaps, what all the world would tell me—it is
what I am sometimes disposed to tell myself. But look
at me, madam, for I will now come before you, and tell
me if there is madness or distraction in my look and
word, when I repeat to you again, that I have fixed my
affections on this young nobleman.”

“ Tf there is not madness in your look or word, maiden,
there is infinite folly in what you say,” answered the
Lady Hermione, sharply. “ When did you ever hear
that misplaced love brought any thing but wretchedness ?
Seek a match among your equals, Margaret, and escape
the countless kinds of risk and misery that must attend
an affection beyond your degree.—Why do you smile,
maiden? Is there aught to cause scorn in what I say?”

“Surely no, madam,” answered Margaret. “I only
smiled to think how it should happen, that, while rank
made such a wide difference between creatures formed
from the same clay, the wit of the vulgar should, never-
theless, jump so exactly the same length with that of the
accomplished and the exalted. Itis but the variation of
the phrase which divides them. Dame Ursley told me
the very same thing which your ladyship has but now
uttered; only you, madam, talk of countless misery, and
Dame Ursley spoke of the gallows, and Mistress ‘Turner,
who was hanged upon it.”

“ Indeed?” answered the Lady Hermione; “ and whoD4 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

may Dame Ursley be, that your wise choice has asso-
ciated with me in the difficult task of advising a fool ?”

“The barber’s wife at next door, madam,” auswered
Margaret, with feigned simplicity, but far from being
sorry at heart, that she had found an indirect mode of
mortifying her monitress. “She is the wisest woman
that I know, next to your ladyship.”

“ A proper confidant,” said the lady, “and chosen with
the same delicate sense of what is due to yourself and
others !—But what ails you, maiden—where are you
going ?”

“Only to ask Dame Ursley’s advice,” said Margaret,
as if about to depart; “for I see your ladyship is too
angry to give me any, and the emergency is pressing.”

“What emergency, thou simple one?” said the lady, in
a kinder tone.—“ Sit down, maiden, and tell me your
tale. It is true you are a fool, and a pettish fool to boot;
but then you are a child—an amiable child, with all your
self-willed folly, and we must help you, if we can.—Sit
down, I say, as you are desired, and you will find me a
safer and wiser counsellor than the barber-woman. And
tell me how you come to suppose, that you have fixed
your heart unalterably upon a man whom you have seen,
as I think, but once.”

“T have seen him oftener,” said the damsel, looking
aown ; “but I have only spoken to him once. I should
have been able to get that once out of my head, though
the impression was so deep, that I could even now repeat
every trifling word he said; but other things have
rivetted it in my bosom for ever.”

“Maiden,” replied the lady, “ for ever
which comes most lightly on the lip
stances, but which, not the less,

since

is the word
S in such circum.
is almost, the last that weTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 25

should use. The fashion of this world, its passions, its
joys, and its sorrows, pass away like the winged breeze
—there is nought for ever, but that which belongs to the
world beyond the grave.”

“You have corrected me justly, madam,” said Marga-
ret, calmly ; “I ought only to have spoken of my present
state of mind, as what will last me for my lifetime, which
unquestionably may be but short.”

“ And what is there in this Scottish lord that can rivet
what concerns him so closely in your fancy?” said the
lady, “I admit him a personable man, for I have seen
him; and I will suppose him courteous and agreeable.
But what are his accomplishments besides, for these
surely are not uncommon attributes ?”

“He is unfortunate, madam—most unfortunate—and
surrounded by snares of different kinds, ingeniously con-
trived to ruin his character, destroy his estate, and, per-
haps, to reach even his life. ‘These schemes have been
devised by avarice, originally, but they are now followed
close by vindictive ambition, animated, I think, by the
absolute and concentrated spirit of malice ; for the Lord

 

Dalgarno ”
“Here, Monna Paula—Monna Paula!” exclaimed
the Lady Hermione, interrupting her young friend’s nar-
rative. “She hears me not,” she answered, rising and
going out, “{ must seek her—I will return instantly.”
She returned accordingly very soon after. “ You men-
tioned a name which I thought was familiar to me,” she
said; “but Monna Paula has put me mght. I know
nothing of your lord—how was it you named him?”
“Bord Dalgarno,” said Margaret,—* the wickedest
man who lives. Under pretence of friendship, he intro-
Juced the Lord Glenvarloch to a gambling-house, with26. WAVERLEY NOVELS.

the purpose of engaging him in deep play ; but he with
whom the perfidious traitor had to deal, was too virtuous,
moderate, and cautious, to be caught in a snare so open.
What did they next but turn his own moderation against
him, and persuade others that, because he would not be-
come the prey of wolves, he herded with them for a share
of their booty! And, while this base Lord D: lgarno was
thus undermining his unsuspecting countryman, he took
every measure to keep him surrounded by creatures of
his own, to prevent him from attending Court, and mixing
with those of his proper rank. Since the Gunpowder
Treason, there never was a conspiracy more deeply laid,
more basely and more deliberately pursued.”

The lady smiled sadly at Margaret’s vehemence, but
sighed the next moment, while she told her young friend
how little she knew the world she was about to live in,
since she testified so much surprise at finding it full of
villainy.

“ But by what means,” she added, “ could you, maiden,
become possessed of the secret views of a man so cau-
tious as Lord Dalgarno

 

as villains in general are ? ”

“Permit me to be silent on that subject,” said the
inaiden ; “I could not tell you without betrayi ing others
—let it suffice that my tidings are as certain as the means
by which I acquired them are secret and sure. But ]
must not tell them even to you.”

“You are too bold, Margaret,” said the lady, “to
traific in such matters at your early age. It is not only
dangerous, but even unbe coming and unm: uidenly.”

“J knew you would say that also,” said Margaret, with
more meekness and patience than she usually showed on
receiving reproof; “but, God knows » INy heart asquits
me of every other feeling save that of the wish to assistTHE FORYUNES OF NIGEL. 27

this most innocent and betrayed man.—I contrived ta
send him warning of his friend’s falsehood ;—alas! my
eare has only hastened his utter ruin, unless speedy aid
be found. He charged his false friend with treachery,
and drew on him in the Park, and is now liable to the
fatal penalty due for breach of privilege of the King’s
palace.”

“ This is indeed an extraordinary tale,” said Hermione ;
«is Lord Glenvarloch then in prison?”

“No,.madam, thank God, but in the Sanctuary at
Whitefriars—it is matter of doubt whether it will protect
him in such a case—they speak of a warrant from the
Lord Chief Justice—A gentleman of the Temple has
been arrested, and is in trouble for having assisted him in
his flight —Even his taking temporary refuge in that base
place, though from extreme necessity, will be used to the
farther defaming him. All this I know, and yet I cannot

rescue him—cannot rescue him save by your means.”
em By my means, maiden!” said the lady—‘ you are
beside yourself!—What means can I possess in this
secluded situation, of assisting this unfortunate noble-
man?”

“You have means,” said Margaret, eagerly; “ you
have those means, unless I mistake greatly, which can de
any thing—can do every thing, in this city in this world
—you have wealth, and the command of a small portion
of it will enable me to extricate him from his present
danger. He will be enabled and directed how to make
she paused.

 

his escape—and I ”—
“Will accompany him, doubtless, and reap the fruits

of your sage exertions in his behalf,” said the Lady Her-

mione, ironically.

“ May Heaven forgive you the unjust thought. lady.”SFO SRE TE RR RRR TT Ee

28 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

answered Margaret. I will never see him more—but I
shall have saved. him, and the thought will make me
happy.”

“ A cold conclusion to so bold and warm a flame,” said
the lady, with a smile which seemed to intimate incre-
dulity.

“It is, however, the only one which I expect, madam
—I could almost say the only one which I wish——I aw
sure I will use no efforts to bring about any other; if [
am bold in his cause, I am timorous enough in my own.
During our only interview I was unable to speak a word
to him. He knows not the sound of my voice

 

and all
that I have risked, and must yet risk, I am doing for
one, who, were he asked the question, would say he
has long since forgotten that he ever saw, spoke to,
or sat beside, a creature of so little signification as
T am.”

“This is a strange and unreasonable indulgence of a
passion equally fanciful and dangerous,” said the Lady
Hermione.

“ You will not assist me, then?” said Margaret ; “have
good-day then, madam—my secret, I trust, is safe in such
honourable keeping.”

“‘Tarry yet a little,” said the lady, “and tell me what
resource you have to assist this youth, if you were sup:
plied with money to put it in motion.”

“Tt is superfluous to ask me the question, madam,”
answered Margaret, “unless you purpose to assist me;
and, if you do so purpose, it is still superfluous, You
could not understand the means I must us
100 brief to explain.”

e, and time is

“But have you in reality such means?” said the

lady.THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 29

“] have, with the command of a moderate sum,” an-
swered Margaret Ramsay, “ the power of baffling all his
enemies—of eluding the passion of the irritated Kine—
the colder but more determined displeasure of the Prince
__the vindictive spirit of Buckingham, so hastily directed
against whomsoever crosses the path of his ambition--
the cold. concentrated malice of Lord Dalgarno—all, i
can baftle them all!”

“ But is this to be done without your own personal risk,
Margaret ?” replied the lady ; “ for, be your purpose what
it will, you are not to peril your own reputation or person,
in the romantic attempt of serving another ; and I, maiden,
am answerable to your godfather—to your benefactor, and
my own—not to aid you in any dangerous or unworthy
enterprise.”

“Depend upon my word,—my oath,—dearest lady,”
replied the supplicant, “ that I will act by the agency of
others, and do not myself design to mingle in any enter-
prise in which my appearance might be either perilous or
unwomanly.”

“1 know not what to do,” said the Lady Hermione ;
“it is perhaps incautious and inconsiderate in me to aid
so wild a project; yet the end seems honourable, if the
means be sure—What is the penalty, if he fall into their
power ?” .

“ Alas, alas! the loss of his right hand !” replied Mar:
earet, her voice almost stifled with sobs.

« Are the laws of England so cruel? Then there 1s
mercy in Heaven alone,” said the lady, “ since, even in

this free land, men are wolves to each other.—Compose
yourself, Margaret, and tell me what money is necessary
to secure Lord Glenvarloch’s escape.”
“Two hundred pieces.” replied Margaret ; “I would30 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

speak to you of restoring them—and I must one day have
the power—only that I know—that is, I think—your
ladyship is indifferent on that score.”

“ Not a word more of it,” said the lady; “ call Monna

Paula hither.”THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL.

CHAPTER XX.

Credit me, friend, it hath been ever thus,

Since the ark rested os Mount Ararat.

False man hath sworn, and woman hath believed—

Repented and reproach’d, and then believed once more.
THE New WorRLD. |

By the time that Margaret returned with Monna Paula,
the Lady Hermione was rising from the table at which
she had been engaged in writing something on a small
slip of paper, which she gave to_her attendant.

“ Monna Paula,” she said, “carry this paper to Roberts
\he cash-keeper ; let him give you the money mentioned
in the note, and bring it hither presently.”

Monna Paula left the room, and ber mistress pro-
ceeded.

“T do not know,” she said, “ Margaret, if I have done,
and am doing, well in this affair. My life has been one

<

of strange seclusion, and I am _ totally unacquainted with
the practical ways of this world—an ignorance which I
know cannot be remedied by mere reading.—I fear I am
doing wrong to you, and perhaps to the laws of the coun-
try which affords me refuge, by thus indulging you; and
yet there is something in my heart which cannot resist
your entreaties.”

“(), listen to it—listen to it, dear, generous lady !
xaid Margaret, throwing herself on her knees and grasp-
ing those of her benefactress, and looking in that attitude

33eRe

Pte nena

EE

WAVERLEY NOVELS.

like a beautiful mortal in the act of supplicating her
tutelary angel; “the laws of men are but the injunctions
of mortality; but what the heart prompts is the echo of
the voice from Heaven within us.”

“ Rise, rise, maiden,” said Hermione ; “you affect me
more than I thought I could have been moved by aught
that should approach me. Rise, and tell me whence it
comes, that, in so short a time, your thoughts, your looks,
your speech, and even your slightest actions, are changed
from those of a capricious and fanciful girl, to all this
energy and impassioned eloquence of word and action?”

“JT am sure I know not, dearest lady,” said Margaret,
looking down ; “ but I suppose that, when I was a trifler,
I was only thinking of trifles.5 What I now reflect is
deep and serious, and I am thankful if my speech and
manner bear reasonable proportion to my thouglits.”

“Jt must be so,” said the lady ; “ yet the change seems
a rapid and strange one. It seems to be as if a childish
girl had at once shot up into a deep-thinking and impas-
sioned woman, ready to make exertions alike, and sacri-
fices, with all that vain devotion to a favourite object of
affection, which is often so basely rewarded.”

The Lady Hermione sighed bitterly, and Monna Paula
entered ere the conversation proceeded farther. She
spoke to her mistress in the foreion language in which
they frequently conversed, but which was unknown to
Margaret.

“We must have patience for a time.” said the lady to
her visitor; “the cash-keeper is abroad on -ome business,
but he is expected home in the course of half an hour.”

Margaret wrung her hands in vexation and impatience.

“ Minutes are precious,” continued the lady, “that I am
well aware of; and we will at least: suffer none of themTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 38

to escape us. Monna Paula shall remain below and
transact our business, the very instant that Roberts
returns home.”

She spoke to her attendant accordingly, who again lefi
the room.

“You are very kind, madam—very good,” said the
pocr little Margaret, while the anxious trembling of her
lip and of her hand showed all that sickening agitation
of the heart which arises from hope deferred.

“Be patient, Margaret, and collect yourself,’ said the
Jady ; “ you may, you must, have much to do to carry
through this your bold purpose—reserve your spirits,
be patient—it is the only

 

which you may need so much
remedy against the evils of liter’

“Yes, madam,” said Margaret, wiping her eyes, and
endeavouring in vain to suppress the natural impatience
of her temper,—“I have heard so—very often indeed ;
and I dare say I have myself. Heaven forgive me, said so
to people in perplexity and affliction ; but it was before
I had suffered perplexity and vexation myself, and I am
sure I will never preach patience to any human being
again, now that I know how much the medicine goes
against the stomach.”

“You will think better of it, maiden,” said the Lady
Hermione; “JI also, when I first felt distress, thought they
did me wrong who spoke to me of patience ; but my
sorrows have been repeated and continued till J have
been taught to cling to it as the best, and—religious
duties excepted, of which, indeed, patience forms a part
—the only alleviation which life can afford them.”

Margaret, who neither wanted sense nor feeling, wiped
her tears hastily, and asked her patroness’s forgiveness
for her petulance.

VOL. XXVIII. 8ay
e
&
9

Trine eae

o4 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

‘JT might have thought—” she said, “I ought to have
reflected, that even from the manner of your life, madam,
it is plain you must have suffered sorrow; and yet, God
knows, the patience which I have ever seen you display,
well entitles you to recommend your own example to
others.”

The lady was silent for a moment, and then replied—

“ Margaret, I am about to repose a high confidence in
you. You ‘are no longer a child, but a thinking and a
feeling woman. You have told me as much of your
secret as you dared—I will let you know as much of
mine as J may venture to tell. You will ask me, per-
haps, why, at a moment when your own mind is agitated,
I should force upon you the consideration of my sorrows ?
and I answer, that I cannot withstand the impulse which
now induces me to do so. Perhaps from having wit-
nessed, for the first time these three years, the natural
effects of human passion, my own sorrows have been
awakened, and are for the moment too big for my own
bosom—perhaps I may hope that you, who seem driving
full sail on the very rock on which I was wrecked for
ever, will take warning by the tale I have to tell,
Enough, if you are willing to listen, I am willing to tell
you who the melancholy inhabitant of the Foljambe
apartment really is, and why she resides here. It will
serve, at least, to while away the time until Monna Paula
shall bring us the reply from Roberts.”

At any other moment of her life, Margaret Ramsay
would have heard with undivided interest a communica:
tion so flattering in itself, and referring to a subject upon
which the general curiosity had been so strongly excited.
And even at this agitating moment, although she ceased

pot to listen with an anxious ea} and throbbing heart forTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 35

the sound of Monna Paula’s returning footsteps, she
nevertheless, as gratitude and policy, as well as a portion
of curiosity dictated, composed herself, in appearance at
least. to the strictest attention to the Lady Hermione, and
thanked her with humility for the high confidence she
was pleased to repose in her. The Lady Hermione, with
the same calmness which always attended her speech
and actions, thus recounted her story to her young
friend :

“ My father,” she said, “was a merchant, but he was
of a city whose merchants are princes. I am the daughter
ef a noble house in Genoa, whose name stood as high in
honour and in antiquity, as any inscribed in the Golden
Register of that famous aristocracy.

“ My mother was a noble Scottish woman. She was
descended—do not start

 

and not remotely descended, of
the house of Glenvarloch—no wonder that I was easily
led to take concern in the misfortunes of this young lord.
fle is my near relation, and my mother, who was more
than sufficfently proud of her descent, early taught me to
take an interest in the name. My maternal grandfather,
a cadet of that house of Glenvarloch, had followed the
fortunes of an unhappy fugitive, Francis Earl of Both-
well, who, after showing his miseries in many a foreign
court, at length settled in Spain upon a miserable pen-
sion, which he earned by conforming to the Catholic faith.
Ralph Olifaunt, my erandfather, separated from him in
disgust, and settled at Barcelona, where, by the friend-
ship of the governor, his heresy, as it was termed, was
connived at. My father, in the sourse of his commerce,
resided more at Barcelona than in his native country,
though at times he visited Genoa.

“Jt was at Barcelona that he became sequainted withONDE. = tact cat loy

+ aR cub
UR NI ETS

IG RE: Rate mS ERE

a cea Ba

36 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

my mother, loved her, and married her; they differed 7°
faith, but they agreed in affection. I was their only child.
In public I conformed to the doctrines and ceremonial of
the Church of Rome; but my mother, by whom these
were regarded with horror, privately tramed me up in
those of the reformed religion ; and my father, either in-
different in the matter, or unwilling to distress the woman
whom he loved, overlooked or connived at my secretly
joining in her devotions.

“But when, unhappily, my father was attacked, while
yet in the prime of life, by a slow wasting disease, which
he felt to be incurable, he foresaw the hazard to which
his widow and orphan might be exposed, after he was no
more, in a country so bigoted to Catholicism as Spain.
He made it his business, during the last two years of his
life, to realize and to remit to England a large part of
his fortune, which, by the faith and honour of his corre-
spondent, the excellent man under whose roof I now
reside, was employed to great advantage. Had my father
lived to complete his purpose, by withdrawint® his whole
fortune from commerce, he himself would have accom-
panied us to England, and would have beheld us settled
in peace and honour before his death. But Heaven
had ordained it otherwise. He died, leaving several
sums engaged in the hands of his Spanish debtors; and
in particular, he had made a large and extensive consign.
ment to a certain wealthy society of merchants at Madrid,
who showed no willingness after his death to account for
the proceeds. Would to God we had left these covetous
and wicked men in possession of their booty, for such
they seemed to hold the property of their deceased corre-
spondent and friend! We had enough for comfort, and
even splendour, already secured in England ; but friendsTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 37

exclaimed upon the folly of permitting these unprincipled
men to plunder us of our rightful property. The sum
itself was large, and the claim having been made, my
mother thought that my father’s memory was interested
in its being enforced, especially as the defences set up for
the mercantile society went, in some degree, to impeach
the fairness of his transactions.

“We went therefore to Madrid. I was then, my Mar-
garet, about your age, young and thoughtless, as you have
hitherto been—-We went, I say, to Madrid, to solicit the
protection of the Court and of the King, without which,
we were told, it would be in vain to expect justice against
an opulent and powerful association.

“Our residence at the Spanish metropolis drew on
from weeks to months. For my part, my natural sorrow
for a kind, though not a fond father, having abated, I
ared not if the lawsuit had detained us at Madrid for
ever. My mother permitted herself and me rather more
liberty than we had been accustomed to. She found
relations among the Scottish and Irish officers, many of
whom held a high rank in the Spanish armivs; their
wives and daughters became our friends and companions,
and I had’ perpetual occasion to exercise my mother’s
native language, which I had learned from my infancy.
By degrees, as my mother’s spirits were low, and her
health indifferent, she was induced, by her partial fond-
ness for me, to suffer me to mingle occasionally in society
which she herself did not frequent, under the cuardian-
ship of such ladies as she imagined she could trust, and
particularly under the care of the lady of a general officer
whose weakness or falsehood was the original cause of
my misfortunes. I was as gay, Margaret, and thoughtless
—] again repeat it—as you were but lately, and my88 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

attention, like yours, became suddenly rivetted to one
| object, and to one set of feelings.

1p! “The person by whom they were excited was young
a noble, handsome, accomplished, a soldier, and a Briton,

1
f
kh

So far our cases are nearly parallel; but, may Heaven

forbid that the parallel should become complete! This
| man, so noble, so fairly formed, so gifted, and so brave—
. | this vellain, for that, Margaret, was his fittest name, spoke
of love to me, and I listened—Could I suspect his sin-
cerity? If he was wealthy, noble, and long-descended,
I also was a noble and an opulent heiress. It is true,
that he neither knew the extent of my father’s wealth,
nor did I communicate to him (I do not even remember

 

if I myself knew it at the time) the important cireum-
stance, that the greater part of that wealth was beyond
the grasp of arbitrary power, and not subject to the
precarious award of arbitrary judges. My lover might
think, perhaps, as my mother was desirous the world at

PRR l= a:

eS SOREN FERC I eRe PME TO

large should believe, that almost our whole fortune de-
pended on the precarious suit which we had come te
Madrid to prosecute—a belief which she had counte-
nanced out of policy, being well aware that a knowledge

 

of my father’s having remitted such a large part of his
fortune to England, would in no shape aid the recovery
ot farther sums in the Spanish courts. Yet, with no
more extensive views of my fortune than were posses:ed
ay the public, I believe that he, of whom I am speaking,
was at first sincere in his pretensions. He had himself
interest sufficient to have obtained a decision in oul
pie favour in the courts, and my fortune, reckoning only
Rn! what was in Spain, would then have been no inconsider
able sum. To be brief, whatever might be his motives
or temptation for so far committing himself, he applied toTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 39

ve

my mother for my hand, with my consent and approval.
My mother’s judgment had become weaker, but her
passions had become more irritable, during her increas-
ing illness.

“You have heard of the bitterness of the ancient Scot-
tish feuds, of which it may be said, in the language of
Scripture, that the fathers eat sour grapes, and the teeth
ef the children are set on edge. Unhappily,—I should
say happily, considering what this man has now shown
himself to be,

 

 

some such strain of bitterness had divided
his house from my mother’s, and she had succeeded to
the inheritance of hatred. When he asked her for my
hand, she was no longer able to command her passions—
she raked up every injury which the rival families had
inflicted upon each other during a bloody feud of two

centuries

 

heaped him with epithets of scorn, and re-
jected his proposal of alliance, as if it had come from the
basest of mankind.

“My lover retired in passion; and I remained to weep
and murmur against fortune, and—I will confess my fault
—against my affectionate parent. I had been educated
with different feelings, and the traditions of the feuds and
quarrels of my mother’s family in Scotland, which were
to her monuments and chronicles, seemed to me as insig-
nificant and unmeaning as the actions and fantasies of
Don Quixote; and I blamed my mother bitterly for
sacrificing my happiness to an empty dream of family
dignity.

“While I was in this humour, my lover sought a
renewal of our intercourse. We met repeatedly in the
house of the lady whom I have mentioned, and who,
in levity, or in the spirit of intrigue, countenanced our

secret correspondence. At length we were secretly mar40 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

ried—so far did my blinded passion hurry me. My lover
had secured the assistance of a clergyman of the English
church. Monna Paula, who had been my attendant from
infancy, was one witness of our union. Let me do the
faithful creature justice—She conjured me to suspend my
purpose till my mother’s death should permit us to cele-
brate our marriage openly; but the entreaties of my
lover, and my own wayward passion, prevailed over her
remonstrances. - The lady I have spoken of was another
witness, but whether she was in full possession of my
bridegroom’s secret, I had never the means to learn.
But the shelter of her name and roof afforded us the
means of frequently meeting, and the love of my husband
seemed as sincere and as unbounded as my own.

“ He was eager, he said, to gratify his pride, by intro-
ducing me to one or two of his noble English friends.

 

This could not be done at Lady D ’s; but by his
command, which I was now entitled to consider as my
law, I contrived twice to visit him at his own hotel, ac-
companied only by Monna Paula. There was a very
small party, of two ladies and two gentlemen. There
was music, mirth, and dancing. I had heard of the
frankness of the English nation, but I could not help
thinking it bordered on license during these entertain-
ments, and in the course of the collation which followed ;
but I imputed my scruples to my inexperience, and would
not doubt the propriety of what was approved by my
husband.

“YT was soon summoned to other scenes; my poor
mother’s disease drew to a conclusion—Happy I am that
it took place before she discovered what would have cut
her to the soul.

“In Spain you may have heard how the CatholicTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 4]

priests, and particularly the monks, besiege the beds of
the dying to obtain bequests for the good of the church.
I have said that my mother’s temper was irritated by
disease, and her judgment impaired in proportion. She
gathered spirits and force from the resentment which the
priests around her bed excited by their importunity, and
the boldness of the stern sect of Reformers, to which she
had secretly adhered, seemed to animate her dying
tongue. She avowed the religion she had so long con-
cealed; renounced all hope and aid which did not come
by and through its dictates ; rejected with contempt the
ceremonial of the Romish church ; loaded the astor ished
priests with reproaches for their greediness and hypocrisy,
and commanded them to leave her house. They went in
hitterness and rage, but it was to return with the inquisi-
torial power, its warrants, and its officers ; and they found
only the cold corpse left of her, on whom they had hoped
to work their vengeance. As I was soon discovered to
have shared my mother’s heresy, I was dragged from her
dead body, imprisoned in a solitary cloister, and treated
with severity, which the Abbess assured me was due to
the looseness of my life, as well as my spiritual errors.
I avowed my marriage to justify the situation in which I
found myself—I implored the assistance of the Superior
to communicate my situation to my husband. She smiled
coldly at the proposal, and told me the church had pro-
vided a better spouse for me ; advised me to secure myself

 

of divine grace hereafter, and deserve milder treatment
here, by presently taking the veil. In order to convince
me that I had no other resource, she showed me a royal
decree, by which all my estate was hypothecated to the
convent of Saint Magdalen, and became their complete

property upon my death, or my taking the vows. As ]Monn

iia esa
URN AN TO DSO

vey

    
 
  
  
  
   
  
 
 
  
   
   
   
   
  
  
   
       
    
  

 

SME FAR ay

 

a2 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

was, both from religious principle, and affectionate attach
ment to my husband, ee immovable in my rejec-
tion of the veil, I believe—may Heaven forgive me if I
wrong her !—that the nips was desirous to make sure
of my spoils, by hastening the former event.

“Tt was a small and a poor convent, and situated among

 

e mountains of Guadarrama. Some of the sisters were

oe)

tl
the daughters of neighbouring Hidalgoes, as poor as they
were proud and ignorant; others were women immured
there on account of their vicious conduct. ‘The Superior
herself was of a high aay to which she owed her situa-
tion; but she was said to have disgraced her connexion
by her conduct during ue and now, in advanced age,
covetousness and the love of power, a spirit too of severity
and cruelty, had succeeded to the thirst after licentious
pleasure. I suffered much under this woman—and still
her dark, glassy eye, her tall, shrouded form, and her
rigid features, haunt my slumbers.

“T was not destined to be a mother. I was very ill,
and my recovery was long doubtf — The most violent
remedies were applied, if remedies they indeed were.
My health was restored at ee L, ane my own expec-
tation and that of all around me. But, when I first again
beheld the reflection of my own face, I thought it was the
visage of a a I was wont to be flattered by all, but
particularly by my husband, for the fineness of my com-
plexion—it was now totally gone, and what is more ex-
traordinary, it has never returned. JI have observed that
the few who now see me, look ae me as a bloodless
phantom—Such has been the abiding effect of the treat-

>

ment to which I was subjected. May God for give those

AYA CA

who were the agents of it !— I thank Heaven I ean Say

0 with as sincere a wish, as that with which I pray forTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 43

forgiveness of my own sins. They now relented some-
what towards me—moved perhaps to compassion by my
singular appearance, which bore witness to my sufferings ;
or afraid that the matter might attract attention during a
visitation of the bishop, which was approaching. One
day, as I was walking in the convent-garden, to which I
had been lately admitted, a miserable old Moorish slave,
who was kept to cultivate the little spot, muttered as I
passed him, but still keeping his wrinkled face and de-
crepit form in the same angle with the earth—‘ There is
Heart’s Ease near the postern.’

“I knew something of the symbolical language of
flowers, once carried to such perfection among the Mo-
riscoes of Spain; but if I had been ignorant of it, the
eaptive would soon have caught at any hint that seemed
to promise liberty. With all the haste consistent with
the utmost circumspection—for I might be observed by
the Abbess or some of the sisters from the window—I!
hastened to the postern. It was closely barred as usual,
but when I coughed slightly, I was answered from the
other side—and, O Heaven! it was my husband’s voice
which said, ‘Lose not a minute here at present, but be
on the spot when the vesper bell has tolled.’

“JT retired in an ecstasy of joy. I was not entitled or

 

permitted to assist at vespers, but was accustomed to be
confined to my cell while the nuns were in the choir.
Since my recovery, they had discontinued locking the
door; though the utmost severity was denounced against
me if I left these precincts. But let the penalty be what
it would, I hastened to dare it-—No sooner had the last
toll of the vesper bell ceased to sound, than I stole from
my chamber, reached the garden unobserved, hurried to
the postern, beheld it open with rapture, and in the next44 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

moment was in my husband’s arms. He had with him
another cavalier of noble mien—both were masked and
armed. ‘Their horses, with one saddled for my use, stood
in a thicket hard by, with two other masked horsemen,
who seemed to be servants. In less than two minutes
we were mounted, and rode off as fast as we could
through rough and devious roads, in which one of the
domestics appeared to act as guide.

“The hurried pace at which we rode, and the anxiety
of the moment, kept me silent, and prevented my ex-
pressing my surprise or my joy save in a few broken
words. It also served as an apology for my husband’s
silence. At length we stopped at a solitary hut—the
cavaliers dismounted, and I was assisted from my saddle,
not by M. M
seemed busied about his horse, but by the stranger.

 

 

my husband, I would say, who

“¢Go into the hut,’ said my husband, ‘change your
dress with the speed of lightning—you will find one to
assist you—-we must forward instantly when you have
shifted your apparel.’

“T entered the hut, and was received in the arms of
the faithful Monna Paula, who had waited my arrival for
many hours, haif distracted with fear and anxiety. With
her assistance I speedily tore off the detested garments
of the convent, and exchanged them for a travelling suit
made after the English fashion. JI observed that Monna
Paula was in a similar dress. I had but just huddled on
my change of attire, when we were hastily summoned to
mount. A horse, I found, was provided for Monna
Paula, and we resumed our route. On the way, my
convent garb, which had been wrapped hastily together
around a stone, was thrown into a lake, along the verge
if which we were then passing. The two cavaliers rodeTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 45

together in front, my attendant and I followed, and the
servants brought up the rear. Monna Paula, as we rode
on, repeatedly entreated me to be silent upon the road, as
our lives depended on it. I was easily reconciled to be
passive, for, the first fever of spirits which attended the
sense of liberation and of gratified affection haying passed
away, I felt as it were dizzy with the rapid motion ; and
my utmost exertion was necessary to keep my place on
the saddle, until we suddenly (it was now very dark}
saw a strong light before us.

“My husband reined up. his horse, and gave a signal
by a low whistle twice repeated, which was answered
from a distance. The whole party then halted under the
boughs of a large cork-tree, and my husband, drawing
himself close to my side, said, in a voice which I then
thought was only embarrassed by fear for my safety,—
‘We must now part. Those to whom I commit you are
contrabandists, who only know you as Englshwomen,
but who, for a high bribe, have undertaken to escort you
through the passes of the Pyrenees as far as Saint Jean
de Luz.’

“¢And do you not go with us?’ I exclaimed with
emphasis, though in a whisper. :

“ ¢Tt is impossible,’ he said, ‘and would ruin all—See
that you speak in English in these people’s hearing, and
give not the least sign of understanding what they say in
Spanish—your life depends on it; for, though they live
in opposition to, and evasion of, the laws of Spain, they
would tremble at the idea of violating those of the church
farewell.’

 

farewell

 

—I see them coming
“The last words were hastily uttered—I endeavoured
o detain him yet a moment by my feeble grasp on his

sloak.46 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

“¢ You will meet me, then, I trust, at Saint Jean de
Luz ?’

“<«Yes, yes, he answered hastily, ‘at Saint Jean de
Luz you will meet your protector.’

“He then extricated his cloak from my grasp, and was
lost in the darkness. His companion approached, kissed
my hand, which in the agony of the moment I was scarce
sensible of, and followed my husband, attended by one
of the domestics.”

The tears of Hermione here flowed so fast as to
threaten the interruption of her aarrative.—When she
resumed it, it was with a kind of apology to Mar-
garet.

“ Every circumstance,” she said, “ occurring in these
moments, when I still enjoyed a delusive idea of happi-
ness, are deeply imprinted in my remembrance, which,
respecting all that has since happened, is waste and
unvaried as an Arabian desert. But I have no right

to inflict on you, Margaret, agitated as you are with

your own anxieties, the unavailing details of my useless
recollections.”

 

Margaret’s eyes were full of tears—it was impossible it
could be otherwise, considering that the tale was told
by her suffering benefactress, and resembled, in some
respects, her own situation; and yet she must not be
severely blamed, if, while eagerly pressing her patroness
to continue her narrative, her eye involuntarily sought
the door, as if to chide the delay of Monna Paula.

The Lady Hermione saw and forgave these conflicting
emotions ; and she, too, must be pardoned, if, in her turn,
the minute detail of her narrative showed, that, in the
discharge of feelings so long locked in her own bosom,

she rather forgot those which were personal to ber audiTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 47

bor, and by which it must be supposed Margaret’s mind
was principally occupied, if not entirely engrossed.

“TI told you, I think, that one domestic followed the
gentlemen,” thus the lady continued her story, “the other
remained with us for the purpose, as it seemed, of intro-
ducing us to two persons whom M——, I say, whom my
husband’s signal had brought to the spot. A word or two
of explanation passed between them and the servant, in a
sort of patozs, which I did not understand ; and one.of the
strangers taking hold of my bridle, the other of Monna
Paula’s, they led us towards the light, which I have
already said was the signal of our halting. I touched
Monna Paula, and was sensible that she trembled very
much, which surprised me, because I knew her char-
acter to be so strong and bold as to border upon the
masculine.

“ When we reached the fire, the gipsy figures of those
who surrounded it, with their swarthy features, large
Sombrero hats, girdles stuck full of pistols and poniards,
and all the other apparatus of a roving and perilous life,
would have terrified me at another moment. But then I
only felt the agony of having parted from my husband
almost in the very moment of my rescue. The females
of the gang—for there were four or five women amongst
these contraband traders—received us with a sort of
rude courtesy. ‘They were, in dress and manners, not
extremely different from the men with whom they asse-
eiated—were almost as hardy and adventurous, carried
ims like them, and were, as we learned, from passing
circumstances, scarce less experienced in the use of
them.

“Tt was impossible not to fear these wild people; yet
‘hey gave us vo reason to complain of them, but used us6

ee

48 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

on all occasions with a kind of clumsy courtesy, accom-
modating themselves to our wants and our weakness
during the journey, even while we heard them grumbling
to each other against our effeminacy,—like some rude car-
rier, who, in charge of a package of valuable and fragile
ware, takes every precaution for its preservation, while
he curses the unwonted trouble which it occasions him.
Once or twice, when they were disappointed in their con-
traband traffic, lost some goods in a rencontre with the
Spanish officers of the revenue, and were finally pursued
by a military force, their murmurs assumed a more alarm-
ing tone, in the terrified ears of my attendant and myself,
when, without daring to seem to understand them, we
heard them curse the insular heretics, on whose account
God, Saint James, and Our Lady of the Pillar, had
blighted their hopes of profit. These are dreadful recol-
lections, Margaret.”

39

“ Why, then, dearest lady,” answered Margaret, “ will
you thus dwell on them ?”

“Tt is only,” said the Lady Hermione, “because I
linger like a criminal on the scaffold, and would fain pro-
tract the time that must inevitably bring on the final
catastrophe. Yes, dearest Margaret, I rest and dwell on
the events of that journey, marked as it was by fatigue
and danger, though the road lay through the wildest and
most desolate deserts and mountains, and though our
vompanions, both men and women, were fierce and
lawless themselves, and exposed to the most merciless
retaliation from those with whom they were constantly

 

engaged—yet would I rather dwell on these hazardous
events than teil that which awaited me at Saint Jean de

Luz.”

“ But you arrived there in safety ?” said Margaret.THE FORYUNES OF NIGEL. 49

“« Yes, maiden,” replied the Lady Hermione; “ and
were guided by the chief of our outlawed band to the
house which had been assigned for our reception, with
the same punctilious accuracy with which he would have
delivered a bale of uncustomed goods to a correspondent.
I was told a gentleman had expected me for two days—
I rushed into the apartment, and, when I expected to
embrace my husband—I found myself in the arms of his
friend |”

“The villain!” exclaimed Margaret, whose anxiety
had, in spite of herself, been a moment suspended by the
narrative of the lady.

“Yes,” replied Hermione, calmly, though her voice
somewhat faltered, “it is the name that best—that well
befits him. He, Margaret, for whom I had sacrificed all
—whose love and whose memory were dearer to me than
my freedom, when I was in the convent—than my lie,

 

when I was on my perilous journey—had taken his
measures to shake me off, and transfer me, as a privileged
wanton, to the protection of his libertine friend. At first
the stranger laughed at my tears and my agony, as the
hysterical passion of a deluded and over-reached wan-
ton, or the wily affectation of a courtezan. My claim
of marriage he laughed at, assuring me he knew it was
a mere farce required by me, and submitted to by his
friend, to save some reserve of delicacy; and expressed
his surprise that I should consider in any other light
& ceremony which could be valid neither in Spain noi
England, and insultingly offered to remove my seru-
les, by renewing such a union with me himself. My
exclamations brought Monna Paula to my aid—she was
pot, indeed, far distant, for she had. expected some such
scene.”

VOL. XXVIII. 450 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

“ Good Heaven!” said Margaret, “ was she a confidant
of your base husband ?”

“No,” answered Hermione, “do her not that injustice.
It was her persevering inquiries that discovered the place
of my confinement—it was she who gave the information
to my husband, and who remarked even then, that the
news was so much more interesting to his friend than to
him, that she suspected from an early peried it was the
purpose of the villain to shake me off. On the journey
her suspicions were confirmed. She had heard him re-
mark to his companion with a cold sarcastic sneer, the
total change which my prison and my illness had made
on my complexion; and she had heard the other reply,
that the defect might be cured by a touch of Spanish red.
This and other circumstances having prepared her for
such treachery, Monna Paula now entered, completely
possessed of herself, and prepared to support me. Her
calm representations went farther with the stranger than
the expressions of my despair. If he did not entirely
believe our tale, he at least acted the part of a man of
honour, who would not intrude himself on defenceless
females, whatever was their character ; desisted from per-
secuting us with his presence; and not only directed
Monna Paula how we should journey to Paris, but fur-
nished her with money for the purpose of our journey.
From the capital I wrote to Master Heriot, my father’s
most trusted correspondent; he came instantly to Paris
on receiving the letter ; and But here comes Monna
Paula, with more than the sum you desired. Take it, my
learest maiden—serve this youth if you will. But, O
Margaret, look for no gratitude in return!”

The Lady Hermione took the bag of gold from her
gttendant, and gave it to her young friend, who threwTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. am

herself into her arms, kissed her on both the pale cheeks,
over which the sorrows so newly awakened by her narra-

tive had drawn many fears, then sprung up, wiped her

own overflowing eyes, and left the Foljambe apartment
with a hasty and resolved step.WAVERLEY NOVEi.&.

CHAPTER XXII.

Rove not from pole to pole, the man lives here
Whose razor’s only equall’d by his beer;

And where, in either sense, the cockney-put
May, if he pleases, get confounded cut.

ON THE SIGN OF AN ALEHOUSE KEPT BY A BARBER.

We are under the necessity of transporting our readeré
to the habitation of Benjamin Suddlechop, the husband
of the active and efficient Dame Ursula, and who also, in
his own person, discharged more offices than one. For,
besides trimming locks and beards, and turning whiskers
upward into the martial and swaggering curl, or down-
ward into the drooping form which became mustaches of
civil policy; besides also occasionally letting blood, either
by cupping or by the lancet, extracting a stump, and per-
forming other actions of petty pharmacy, very nearly as
well as his neighbour Raredrench, the apothecary ; he
could, on occasion, draw a cup of beer as well as a tooth,
tap a hogshead, as well as a vein, and wash, with a
draught of good ale, the mustaches which his art had just
trimmed. But he carried on these trades apart from each
other.

His barber’s shop projected its long and mysterious
pole into Fleet Street, painted party-coloured-wise, to rep-
resent the ribbons with which, in elder times, that ensign
was garnished. In the window were seen rows of teethTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 53

displayed upon strings like rosaries—cups with a red rag
at the bottom, to resemble blood, an intimation that pa- “
tients might be bled, cupped, or blistered, with the assist-
ance of “sufficient advice;” while the more profitable.
but less honourable operations upon the hair of the head
and beard, were briefly and gravely announced. Within
was the well-worn leathern chair for customers, the
guitar, then called a chittern or cittern, with which a
customer might amuse himself till his predecessor was
dismissed from under Benjamin’s hands, and which, there-
fore, often flayed the ears of the patient metaphorically,
while his chin sustained from the razor literal scarifica-
tion. All, therefore, in this department, spoke the chi-
rurgeon-barber, or the barber-chirurgeon.

But there was a little back-room, used as a private
tap-room, which had a separate entrance by a dark and
crooked alley, which communicated with Fleet Street,
after a circuitous passage through several by-lanes and
courts. This retired temple of Bacchus had also a con-
nexion with Benjamin’s more public shop by a long and
narrow entrance, conducting to the secret premises in
which a few old topers used to take their morning draught,
and a few gill-sippers their modicum of strong waters, in
a bashful way, after having entered the barber’s shop
under pretence of being shaved. Besides, this obscure
tap-room gaye a separate admission to the apartments of
Dame Ursley, which she was believed to make use of in
the course of her multifarious practice, both to let herself
secretly out, and to admit clients and employers who
eared not to be seen to visit her in public. Accordingly,
after the hour of noon, by which time the modest and
timid whetters, who were Benjamin’s best customers, had
sach had his draught, or his thimbleful; the business of&

fear of discovery.

held the long conference with

 

 
 
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
    
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
   
  
   
 

WAVERLEY NOVELS.

the tap was in a manner ended, and the charge of attend-
ing the back-door passed from one of the barber’s appren-
tices to the little mulatto girl, the dingy Iris of Dame
Then came mystery thick upon mystery;
muffled gallants, and masked females, in disguises of
different fashions, were seen to glide through the intricate
mazes of the alley ; and even the low tap on the door,
which frequently demanded the attention of the little
Creole, had in it something that expressed secrecy and

It was the evening of the same day when Margaret had
he Lady Hermione, that
Dame Suddlechop had directed her little porteress to
“keep the door fast as a miser’s purse-strings ; and, as
she valued her saffron skin, to let in none but ”—— the
name she added in a whisper, and accompanied it with a
nod. The little domestic blinked intelligence, went to her
post, and in brief time thereafter admitted and ushered
into the presence of the dame, that very city-gallant
whose clothes sat awkwardly upon him, and who had
behaved so doughtily in the fray which befell at Nigel’s
first visit to Beaujeu’s ordinary.

The mulatto introduced

him—* Missis, fine young gentleman, all over gold and
velvet ”—then muttered to herself as she shut the door,
“fine young gentleman, he !—apprentice to him who
makes the tick-tick.”

It was indeed—we are sorry to say it, and trust our
readers will sympathize with the interest we take in the
it was indeed honest Jin Vin, who had been so
far left to his own devices, and abandoned by his better
angel, as occasionally to travesty himself in this fashion,
and to visit, in the dress of a gallant of the day, those
places of pleasure and dissipation, in which it would haveTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 55

been everlasting discredit to him to have been seen in his
real character and condition ; that is, had it been possible
foz him in his proper shape to have gained admission.
There was now a deep gloom on his brow, his rich habit
was hastily put on, and buttoned awry ; his belt buckled
in a most disorderly fashion, so that his sword stuck out-
wards from his side, instead of hanging by it with grace-
ful negligence ; while his poniard, though fairly hatched
and gilded, stuck in his girdle like a butcher’s steel in the
fold of his blue apron. Persons of fashion had, by the
way, the advantage formerly of being better distinguished
from the vulgar than at present: for, what the ancient
farthingale and more modern hoop were to court ladies,
the sword was to the gentlemen ; an article of dress, which
only rendered those ridiculous who assumed it for -the
nonce, without being im the habit of wearing it. Vin-

cent’s rapier got between his legs, and, as he stumbled

 

over it, he exclaimed— Zounds! ’tis the second time it
has served me thus—I believe the damned trinket knows
I am no true gentleman, and does it of set purpose.”

“ Come, come, mine honest Jin Vin—come, my good
boy,” said the dame, in a soothing tone, “never mind
these trankums—a frank and hearty London *prentice 1s
worth all the gallants of the inns of court.”

“J was a frank and hearty London ’prentice before I
knew you Dame Suddlechop,” said Vincent ; “ what your
advice has made me, you may find a name for; since,
fore George! I am ashamed to think about it myself.”

« A-well-a-day,” quoth the dame, “and is it even so
with thee ?—nay, then, I know but one cure;” and with
that, going to a little corner cupboard of carved wainscot,
she opened it by the assistance of a key, which, with half-
a-dozen besides, hung in a silver chain at her girdle, andPe RTE FER ° va ~z ve : oer

56 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

produced along flask of thin glass cased with wicker,
bringing forth at the same time two Flemish rummer
glasses, with long stalks and capacious wombs. She filled
the one brimful for her guest, and the other more mod-
estly to about two-thirds of its capacity, for her own use,
reperting as the rich cordial trickled forth in a smooth
oily stream— Right Rosa Solis, as ever washed mulli-
grubs out of a moody brain!”

But, though Jin Vin tossed off his glass without seru-
ple, while the lady sipped hers more moderately, it did
not appear to produce the expected amendment upon his
humour. On the contrary, as he threw himself into the
great leathern chair, in which Dame Ursley was wont to
solace herself of an evening, he declared himself “the
most miserable dog within the sound of Bow-bell.”

“And why should you be so idle as to think yourself
so, silly boy ?” said Dame Suddlechop ; “ but ’tis always
thus—tfools and children never know when they are well.
Why, there is not one that walks in Saint Paul’s, whether
in flat cap, or hat and feather, that has so many kind
glances from the wenches as you, when ye swagger along
Fleet Street with your bat under your arm, and your cap
set aside upon your head. Thou knowest well, that from
Mrs. Deputy’s self down to the waistcoateers in the alley,
all of them are twiring and peeping betwixt their fingers
when you pass; and yet you call yourself a miserable
dog! and I must tell you all this over and over again, ag
if I were whistling the chimes of London toa pettish child,
in order to bring the pretty baby into good-humour ! ”

The flattery of Dame Ursula seemed to have the fate
of her cordial—it was swallowed, indeed, by the party to
whom she presented it, and that with some degree of
relish, but it did not operate as a sedative on the disturbedTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 5/

state of the youth’s mind. He laughed for an instant, half
in scorn, and half in gratified vanity, but cast a sullen
look on Dame Ursley as he replied to her last words.

“You do treat me like a child indeed, when you sing
over and over to me a cuckoo song that I care not a
eopper-filing for.”

“ Aha!” said Dame Ursley; “that is to say, you care
You area

 

not if you please all, unless you please one
true lover, I warrant, and care not for all the city, from
here {o Whitechapel, so you could write yourself first in
your pretty Peg-a-Ramsay’s good-will. Well, well, take
patience, man, and be guided by me, for I will be the
hoop will bind you together at last.”

“Tt is time you were so,” said Jenkin, “for hitherto
you have rather been the wedge to separate us.”

Dame Suddlechop had by this time finished her cordial
__it was not the first she had taken that day ; and, though
a woman of strong brain, and cautious at least, if not
abstemious, in her potations, it may nevertheless be sup-
posed that her patience was not improved by the regimen
which she observed.

“ Why, thou ungracious and ingrate knave,” said Dame
Ursley, “ have not I done every thing to put thee in thy
mistress’s good graces? She-loves gentry, the proud
Scottish minx, as a Welshman loves cheese, and has her
father’s descent from that Duke of Daldevil, or whatso-
ever she calls him, as close in her heart as gold in a
and none

 

miser’s chest, though she as seldom shows it
she will think of, or have, but a veitleman—and a gentle-
man I ave made.of thee, Jin Vin, the devil cannot deny
that.”

“ You have made a fool of me,” said poor J erskin, look-
‘ng at the sleeve of his jacket.58 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

“Never the worse gentleman for that,’ said Dame
Ursley, laughing.

“ And what is worse,” said he, turning his back to hex
suddenly, and writhing in his chair, “you have made a
rogue of me.”

“Never the worse gentleman for that neither,’ said
Dame Ursley, in the same tone; “let a man bear his
folly gaily and his knavery stoutly, and let me see if
gravity or honesty will look him in the face now-a-days.
Tut, man, it was only in the time of King Arthur or
King Lud, that a gentleman was held to blemish his
scutcheon by a leap over the line of reason or honesty—
It is the bold look, the ready hand, the fine clothes, the
brisk oath, and the wild brain, that makes the gallant
now-a-days.”

“I know what you have made me,” said Jin Vin;
“since I have given up skittle and trap-ball for tennis
and bowls, good English ale for thin Bourdeaux and sour
fhenish, roast-beef and pudding for woodcocks and kick-
shaws,

 

my bat for a sword, my cap for a beaver, my
forsooth for a modish oath, my Christmas-box for a dice-
box, my religion for the devil’s matins, and mine honest
name for——-Woman, I could brain thee, when I think
whose advice has guided me in all this!”

“Whose advice, then? whose advice, then? Speak
out, thou poor, petty cloak-brusher, and say who advised
thee!” retorted Dame Ursley, flushed and indignant—
“ Marry come up, my. paltry companion—say by whose
udvice you have made a gamester of yourself, and a thief
besides, as your words would bear—The Lord deliver us
from evil!” And here Dame Ursley devoutly crossed
herself.

66 sls Ve NM ° vr L
Hark ye, Dame Ursley Suddlechop,” said- Jenkin.

€
CcTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 59

starting up, his dark eyes flashing with anger; “ remem-
ber I am none of your husband—and, if I were, you
would do well not to forget whose threshold was swept
when they last rode the Skimmington * upon such an-
other scolding jade as yourself.”

“ T hope to see you ride up Holborn next,” said Dame
Ursley, provoked out of all her holiday and sugar-plum
expressions “ with a nosegay at your breast and a parson
at your elbow.”

“ That may well be,” answered Jin Vin, bitterly, “ if I
walk by your counsels as I have begun by them; but,
before that day comes, you shall know that Jin Vin has
the brisk boys of Fleet Street: still at his wink.—Yes, you
jade, you shall be carted for bawd and conjurer, double-
dyed in erain, and bing off to Bridewell, with every brass
basin betwixt the Bar and Paul’s beating before you, as
if the devil were banging them with his beef-hook.”

Dame Ursley coloured like scarlet, seized upon the
half-emptied flask of cordial, and seemed, by her first ges-
ture about to hurl it at the head of her adversary; but
suddenly, and as if by a strong internal effort, she checked
her outrageous resentment, and, putting the bottle to its
more legitimate use, filled, with wonderful composure, the

* A species of triumphal procession in honour of female supremacy,
hen it rose to such a height as to attract the attention of the neigh-
bourhood. It is described at full length in Hudibras, (Part II. Canto
If.) As the procession passed on, those who attended it in an official
capacity were wont to sweep the threshold of the houses in which
Fame affirmed the mistresses to exercise paramount authority, which
was given and received as a hint that their inmates might, in their
darn, be made the subject of a similar ovation. The Skimmington,
which in some degree resembled the proceeding of Mumbo Jumbo in
an African village, has been long discontinued in England, apparently
because female rule has become either milder or less frecuent than

among our ancestors.50 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

two glasses, and, taking up one of them, said, with a smile,
which better became her comely and jovial countenance
than the fury by which it was animated the moment be-
fore—

“ Here is to thee, Jin Vin, my lad, in all loving kind
ness, whatever spite thou bearest to me, that have always
been a mother to thee.”

Jenkin’s English good-nature could not resist this
forcible appeal; he took up the other glass, and lovingly
pledged the dame in her cup of reconciliation, and _ pro-
ceeded to make a kind of grumbling apology for his own
violence—

“For you know,” he said, “it was you persuaded me to
get these fine things, and go to that godless ordinary, and
ruffle it with the best, and bring you home all the news;
and you said, I, that was the cock of the ward, would
soon be the cock of the ordinary, and would win ten times
as much at gleek and primero, as I used to do at put and
beggar-my-neighbour—and turn up doublets with the dice,
as busily as I was wont to trowl down the nine-pins in
the skittle-ground

 

and then you said I should bring you
such news out of the ordinary as should make us all,

 

when used as you knew how to use it—and now you see
what is to come of it all!”

“Tis all true thou sayest, lad,” said the dame; “ hit
thou must have patience. Rome was not built in a day
——you cannot become used to your court-suit in a month's
time, any more than when you changed your long coat
for a doublet and hose; and in gaming you must expect
‘0 lose as well as gain—’tis the sitting gamester SWEeps
the board.”

“The board has swept me, I know,” replied Jin Vin,
and that pretty clean out.—I would that were the worst;THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 6]

but Lowe for all this finery, and settling-day is coming
on, and my master will find my accompt worse than it
should be, by a score of pieces. My old father will be

 

called in to make them good; and I—may save the hang-
man a labour, and do the job myself, or go the Virginia
voyage.”

“Do not speak so loud, my dear boy,” said Dame Urs-
ley; “but tell me why you borrow not from a friend to
make up your arrear. You could lend him as much when
his settling-day came around.”

“ No, no—I have had enough of that work,” said Vin-
cent. “Tunstall would lend me the money, poor fellow,
an he had it; but his gentle, beggarly kindred, plunder
him of all, and keep him as bare as a birch at Christmas.
No—my fortune may be spelt in four letters, and these
read, RUIN.”

“ Now hush, you simple craven,” said the dame ; “ did
you never hear, that when the neec is highest the help is
nighest ? We may find aid for you yet, and sooner than
you are aware of. I am sure I would never have advised
you to such a course, but only you had set heart and eye
on pretty Mistress Marget, and less would not serve you
~-and what could I do but advise you to cast your city-
slough, and try your luck where folks find fortune ?”

«“ Ay, ay—I remember your counsel well,” said Jenkin;
“JT was to be introduced to her by you when I was per-
fect in my gallantries, and as rich as the King ; and then
she was to be surprised to find I was poor Jin Vin, that
used to watch from matin to curfew for one glance of her
eyes and now, instead of that, she has set her soul on

his Scottish sparrow-hawk of a lord that wen my last
tester, and be cursed to him; and so Iam bankrupt in
love, fortune, and character, before I am out of my time,

99
se

end all along of you, Mother Midnight62 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

“Do not call me out of my own name, my dear boy,
Jin Vin,” answered Ursula, in a tone betwixt rage and
coaxing,—“ do not; because I am no saint, but a poor
sinful woman, with no more patience than she needs, to
earry her through a thousand crosses. And if I have done
you wrong by evil counsel, [ must mend it, and put you
right by good advice. And for the score of pieces that
must be made up at settling day, why, here is, in a good
green purse, as much as will make that matter good; and
we will get old Crosspatch, the tailor, to take a long day
for your clothes; and ”——

“Mother, are you serious?” said Jin Vin, unable to
trust either his eyes or his ears.

“Tn troth am I,” said the dame; “and will you call me
Mother Midnight now, Jin Vin?”

“Mother Midnight!” exclaimed Jenkin, hugging the
dame in his transport, and bestowing on her still comely
cheek a hearty and not unacceptable smack, that sounded
like the report of a pistol,—* Mother Midday, rather, that
has risen to light me out of my troubles—a mother more
dear than she who bore me; for she, poor soul, only

 

brought me into a world of sin and sorrow, and your
timely aid has helped me out of the one and the other.”
And the good-natured fellow threw himself back in his
chair, and fairly drew his hand across his eyes.

“You would not have me be made to ride the Skim-
mington then,” said the dame; “or parade me in a eart,
with all the brass basins of the ward beating the march
to Bridewell before me?”

“I would sooner be carted to Tyburn myself,” replied
the penitent.

“Why, then, sit up like a man, and wipe thine eyes;
and if thou art pleased with what I have done, I willTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 63

show thee how thou mayest requite me in the highest
degree.” .

“How?’ said Jenkin Vincent, sitting straight up in his
chair.— You would have me, then, do you some service
for this friendship of yours?”

“ Ay, marry would I,” said Dame Ursley; “for you
are to know, that though I am right glad to stead you
with it, this gold is not mine, but was placed in my hands
in order to find a trusty agent, for a certain purpose ; ‘and
But what’s the matter with you?—are you fool

ap

 

sO
enough to’ be angry because you cannot get
gold for nothing? I would I knew where such were to
come by. I never could find them lying in my road, I

urse of

promise you.”

“No, no, dame,” said poor Jenkin, “it is not for that ;
for, look you, I would rather work these ten bones to the
knuckles, and live by my labour; but ’ (and here he

 

paused.)

“ But what, man?” said Dame Ursley. “ You are
willing to work for what you want ; and yet, when I offer
you gold for the winning, you look on meas the devil
looks over Lincoln.”

“Jt is ill talking of the devil, mother,” said Jenkin.
“I had him even now in my head—for, look you, IT am
at that pass, when they say he will appear to wretched
ruined creatures, and proffer them gold for the fee-simple
of their salvation. But I have been trying these two
days to bring my mind strongly up to the thought, that I
will rather sit down in shame, and sin, and sorrow, as I
am like to do, than hold on in ill courses to get rid of my
present straits ; and so take care, Dame Ursula, how you
tempt me to break such a good resolution.”
<I tempt you to nothing, young man,” answered Ur64 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

sula; “and, as I perceive you are too wilful to be wise, I
will e’en put my purse in my pocket, and look out for
some one that will work my turn with better will, and
more thankfulness. And you may go your own course,
—break your indenture, ruin your father, lose your char-
acter, and bid pretty Mistress Margaret farewell, for ever
and a day.”

“ Stay, stay,” said Jenkin; “the woman is in as great
a hurry as a brown baker when his oven is overheated.
First, let me hear that which you have to propose to
me.”

“Why, after all, it is but to get a gentleman of rank
and fortune, who is in trouble, carried in seeret down the
tiver, as far as the Isle of Dogs, or somewhere there-
about, where he may lie concealed until he can escape
abroad. I know thou knowest every place by the river's
side as well as the devil knows an usurer, or the beggar
knows his dish.”

“ A plague of your similes, dame,” replied the appren-
tice; “for the devil gave me that knowledge, and beg-
gary may be the end on’t.—But what has this gentleman
done, that he should need to be under hiding? No Papist,
I hope—no Catesby and Piercy business—no Gunpowder
Plot?”

“Fy, fy !—what do you take me for?” said Dame
Ursula. “Tam as good a churchwoman as the parson’s
wife, save that necessary business will not allow me.to gO
there oftener than on Christmas-day, Heaven help me !—
No, no—this is no Popish matter. The gentleman hath
but struck another in the Park ”——

“Ha! what?” said Vincent, interrupting her with a
start.

“Ay, ay, 1 see you guess whom I mean. It is evenTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 69

he we have spoken of so often—just Lord Glenvarloch,
and no one else.”

Vincent sprung from his seat, and traversed the room
with rapid and disorderly steps.

 

“There, there it is now—you are always ice or gun-
powder. You sit in the great leathern arm-chair, as
quiet as a rocket hangs upon the frame in a rejoicing-
night till the match be fired, and then, whizz! you are in
the third heaven, beyond the reach of the human voice,
eye, or brain.—When you have wearied yourself with
padding to and fro across the room, will you tell me your
determination, for time presses? Will you aid me in this
matter or not?”

 

“ No—no—no—a thousand times no,” replied Jenkin.
“Wave you not confessed to me, that Margaret loves
him?”

« Ay,” answered the dame, “that she thinks she does ;
but that will not last long.”

“And have I not told you but this instant,” replied
Jenkin, “that it was this same Glenvarloch that rooked
me at the ordinary, of every penny I had, and made a
knave of me to boot, by gaining more than was my own ?
—O that cursed gold, which Shortyard, the’ mercer, paid
me that morning on accompt, for mending the clock of
Saint Stephen’s! If I had not, by ill chance, had that
about me, I could but have beggared my purse, without
blemishing my honesty ; and, after I had been rooked of
all the rest amongst them, I must needs risk the last five
pieces with that shark among the minnows! ”

“Granted,” said Dame Ursula. “All this I know;
and I own, that as Lord Glenvarloch was the last you
played with, you have a right to charge your ruin on his
head. Moreover, I admit, as already said, that Margaret
VOL, XXVIII. 57 - Bite POTD mes
2 aR ARNE FEBS je a aR a,

KG WAVERLEY NOVELS.

has made him your rival. Yet surely, now he is in
danger to lose his hand, it is not a time to remember all
this ? ”

“ By my faith, but it is though,” said the young citizen.
“Lose his hand, indeed? They may take his head, for
what I care. Head and hand have made me a miscrable
wretch |”

“ Now, were it not better, my prince of flat-caps,” said
Dame Ursula, “that matters were squared between you ;
and that, through means of the same Scottish lord, who
has, as you say, deprived you of your money and your
mistress, you should in a short time recover both ? ”

“And how can your wisdom come to that conclusion,
dame?” said the apprentice. “My money, indeed, I
can conceive—that is, if I comply with your proposal ;
but-—my pretty Margaret !—how serving this lord, whom
she has set her nonsensical head upon, can do me good
with her, is far beyond my conception.”

“That is because, in simple phrase,” said Dame Ursula,
“thou knowest no more of a woman’s heart than doth a
Norfolk gosling. Look you, man. Were I to report to
Mistress Marget that the young lord has miscarried
through thy lack of ¢ urtesy in refusing to help him,
why, then, thou wert odious to her for ever. She will
loathe thee as she will loathe the very cook who is to
strike off Glenvarloch’s hand with his cleaver—and then
she will be yet more fixed in her affections towards this
lord. London will hear of nothing but him—speak of
nothing but him—think of nothing but him, for three
weeks at least, and all that outery will serve to keep him
uppermost in her mind; for nothing pleases a girl se
much as to bear relation to any one who is the talk of the
whole world around her. Then, if he suffer this sentenceTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL.

of the law, it is a chance if she ever forgets him. JI saw
that handsome, proper young gentleman, Babington, suffer
in the Queen’s time myself, and though I was then but a
girl, he was in my head for a year after he was hanged.
But, above all, pardoned or punished, Glenvarloch will
probably remain in London, and his presence will keep
up the silly girl’s nonsensical fancy about him Whereas,

 

if he escapes ”

“ Ay, show me how that is to avail me?” said
Jenkin.

“Tf he escapes,” said the dame, resuming her argu-
ment, “he must resign the Court for years, if not for life ;
and you know the old saying, ‘out of sight, and out of
mind.’ ”

“True—most true,’ said Jenkin; “spoken lke an

 

oracle, most wise Ursula.”

“ Ay, ay, I knew you would hear reason at last,” said
the wily dame ; “and then, when this said lord is off and
away for once and for ever, who, I pray you, is to be
pretty pet’s confidential person, and who is to fill up the
:oid in her affections ?—why, who but thou, thou pearl of
‘prentices? And then you will have overcome your own
inclinations to comply with hers, and every woman ig
sensible of that—and you will have run some risk, too, in

 

carrying her desires into effect—and what is it that
woman likes better than bravery, and devotion to her
will? Then you have her secret, and she must treat you
with favour and observance, and repose confidence in
you, and hold private intercourse with you till she weeps
with one eye for the absent lover whom she is never to
see again, and blinks with the other blithely upon him
who is in presence; and then, if you know not how to

improve the relation in which you stand with her, youDEER a Fie

ees aes #¢
(On aR tte: Teo ee

1 ARE ery
OE SRC

68 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

are not the brisk lively lad that all the wor ld takes you
for—Said I well?”

“You have spoken like an empress, most mighty
Ursula,” said Jenkin Vincent; “and your will shall be

 

obeyed.”

“ You know Alsatia well? ” continued his tutoress.

“Well enough, well enough,” replied he with a nod
“Tf have heard the dice rattle there in my day, before I
must set up for gentleman, and go among the gallants
at the Shavaleer Bojo’s, as they call him,—the worse
rookery of the two, though the feathers are the gayest.”

“And they will have a respect for thee yonder, I
warrant ? ”

“ Ay, ay,” replied Vin, ‘when I am got into my fustian
doublet again, with my bit of a trunnion under my arm, I
ean walk Alsatia at midnight as I could do that there
Fleet Street in midday—they will not one of them
swagger with the prince of ’prentices, and the king of
clubs—they know I could bring every tall boy in the
ward down upon them.”

“ And you know all the watermen, and so forth ? ”

“Can converse with every sculler in his own language,
from Richmond to Gravesend, and know all the water:
cocks, from John Taylor the Poet to little Grigg the
Grinner, who never pulls but he shows all his teeth
from ear to ear, as if he were grimacing through a horse-
collar.”

“ And you can take any dress or character upon you
well, such as a waterman’s, a butcher’s, a foot-soldier’s,”
continued Ursula, “or the like ? ”

“Not such a mummer as I am within the walls, and
thou knowest that well enough, dame,” replied the appren:
lice. “I can touch the players themselves, at the Bal!THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL.

and at the Fortune, for presenting any thing except a
gentleman. T ake but this d—d skin of frippery off me,
which I think the devil stuck me into, and you shall put
me into nothing else that I will not become as if I were
born to it.” |

« Well, we will talk of your transmutation by and b Ys”
said the dame, “and find you clothes withal, and money
besides ; for it will take a good deal to carry the thing
handsomely through.”

«“ But where is that money to come from, dame?” said
Jenkin; “there is a question I would fain have answered
before I touch it.”

“Why, what a fool art thou to ask such a question!
Suppose I am content to advance it to please young
madam, what is the harm then ee

“J will suppose no such thing,” said Jenkin, hastily ;
“J know that you, dame, have no gold to spare, and
maybe would not spare it if you had—so that cock will
not crow. It must be from Margaret herself.”

«Well, thou suspicious animal, and what if it were?”
said Ursula.

“Only this,” replied Jenkin, “that I will presently te
her, and learn if she has come fairly by so much ready
money; for sooner than connive at her getting it by any
indirection, I would hang myself at once. It is enough
what I have done myself, no need to engage poor Mar-
garet in such villainy—I'll to her, and tell her of the
danger—I will, by Heaven A

“You are mad to think of it,” said Dame Suddlechop,
eonsiderably alarmed—“ hear me but a moment. I know
not precisely from whom she got the money; but sure T
am that she obtained it at her godfather’s.”

“ Why, Master Georg: Heriot is not returned from

France.” said Jenkin.ee
ee

  
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
   

iG WAVERLEY NOVELS.

“No,” replied Ursula, “but Dame Judith is at home—
and the strange lady, whom they call Master Heriot’s
ghost—she never goes abroad.”

“It is very true, Dame Suddlechop,” said Jenkin;
“and I believe you have guessed right—they say that
lady has coin at will; and if Marget can get a handful
of fairy gold, why, she is free to throw it away at will.”

“Ah, Jin Vin,” said the dame, reducing her voice al-
most to a whisper, “we should not want gold at will
neither, could we but read the riddle of that lady ee

“They may read it that list,” said Jenkin, “ Ill never

pry into what concerns me not—Master George Heriot

is a worthy and brave citizen, and an honour to London,
and has a right to manage his own household as he likes
best.—There was once a talk of rabbling him the fifth
of November before the last, because they said he kept a
nunnery in his house, like old Lady Foljambe ; but Master
George is well loved among the ’prentices, and we got
so many brisk boys of us together, as should have rabbied
the rabble, had they had but the heart to rise.”

“ Well, let that pass,’ said Ursula; “and now, tell me
how you will manage to be absent from shop a day or
two, for you must think that this matter will not be ended
sooner.”

“ Why, as to that, I can say nothing,” said Jenkin, “ I
have always served duly and truly; I have no heart to
play truant, and cheat my master of his time as well as
his money.”

“Nay, but the point is to get back his money for him,”
said Ursula, “ which he is not likely to see on other con-
ditions. Could you not ask leave to go down to your
uncle in Essex for two or three days? He may be il
you know.”THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL.

“Why, if I must, I must,” said Jenkin, with a heavy
sigh ; “but I will not be lightly caught treading these
dark and crooked paths again.”

“Hush thee, then,” said the dame, “and get leave for
this very evening; and come back hither, and I will
introduce you to another implement, who must be em-
the lad is mazed—

 

ployed in the matter.—Stay, stay |
you would not go into your master’s shop in that guise,
surely? Your trunk is in the matted chamber with your
’prentice things—go and put them on as fast as you can.”
“J think I am bewitched,” said Jenkin, giving a glance
towards his dress, “or that these fool’s trappings have
made as great an ass of me as of many I have seen wear
them; but let me once be rid of the harness, and if you
eatch me putting it on again, I will give you leave to sell
me to a gipsy, to carry pots, pans, and beggar’s bantlings,
all the rest of my life.”
So saying, he retired to change his apparel.WAVERLEY NOVELS

CHAPTER XXII.

Chance will not do the work—Chance sends the breeze;
But if the pilot slumber at the helm,
The very wind that wafts us towards the port
May dash us on the shelves.—The steersman/’s part is vigilanoe,
Blow it or rough or smooth.
OLD PLAY.

WE left Nigel, whose fortunes we are bound to trace
by the engagement contracted in our title-page, sad and
solitary in the mansion of Trapbois the usurer, having
just received a letter instead of a visit from his friend
the Templar, stating reasons why he could not at that
time come to see him in Alsatia. So that it appeared
his intercourse with the better and more respectable class
of society, was, for the present, entirely cut off. This
was a melancholy, and, to a proud mind like that of
Nigel, a degrading reflection.

He went to the window of his apartment, and found
(he street enveloped in one of those thick, dingy, yellow-:
roloured fogs, which often invest the lower part of Lon<
don and Westminster. Amid the darkness, dense and
palpable, were seen to wander like phantoms, a reveller
or two, whom the morning had surprised where the
evening left them: and who now, with tottering steps and
by an instinct which intoxication could not wholly over-
tome, were groping the way to their own homes, to con-
vert day into night, for the purpose of sleeping off theTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. o

|

debauch which had turned night into day. Although it
was broad day in the other parts of the city, it was
scarce dawn yet\in Alsatia; and none of the sounds of
industry or occupation were there heard which had long
before aroused the slumberers in every other quarter.
The prospect was too tiresome and disagreeable to detain
Lord Glenvarloch at his station, so, turning from the
window, he examined with more interest the furniture
and appearance of the apartment which he tenanted.

Much of it had been in its time rich and curious—
there was a huge four-post bed, with as much carved oak
about it as would have made the head of a man-of-war,
and tapestry hangings ample enough to have been her
sails. here was a huge mirror with a massy frame of
gilt brass-work, which was of Venetian manufacture, and
must have been worth a considerable sum before iv re-
ceived the tremendous crack, which, traversing it from one
corner to the other, bore the same proportion to the sur-
face that the Nile bears to the map of Egypt. The chairs
were of different forms and shapes, some had been carved,
some gilded, some covered with damasked leather, some
with embroidered work, but all were damaged and worm-
eaten. There was a picture of Susanna and the Elders
»ver the chimney-piece, which might have been accounted
a choice piece, had not the rats made free with the chaste
fair one’s nose, and with the beard of one of her rever-
end admirers.

Tn a word, all that Lord Glenvarloch saw, seemed to
hare been articles carried off by appraisement or distress,
ar bought as pennyworths at some obscure broker’s, and
lmddled together in the apartment as in a sale-room,
without regard to taste or congruity.

The place appeared to Nigel to resemble the houses14 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

near the sea-coast, which are too often furnished with the
spoils of wrecked vessels, as this was probably fitted up
with the relics of. ruined profligates.—“ My own skiff is
among the breakers,” thought Lord Glenvarloch, “ though
my wreck will add little to the profits of the spoiler.”

He was chiefly interested in the state of the grate, a
huge assemblage of rusted iron bars which stood in the
chimney, unequally supported by three brazen feet,
moulded: into the form of lion’s claws, while the fourth,
which had been bent by an accident, seemed proudly up-
lifted as if to paw the ground; or as if the whole article
had nourished the ambitious purpose of pacing forth into
the middle of the apartment, and had one foot ready
raised for the journey. A smile passed over Nigel’s face
as this fantastic idea presented itself to his fancy.—“I
must stop its march, however,” he thought; * for this
morning is chill and raw enough to demand some fives”

He called accordingly from the top of a large staircase,
with a heavy oaken balustrade, which gave access to his
own and other apartments, for the house was old and
of considerable size; but receiving no answer to his
repeated summons, he was compelled to go in search of
some one who might accommodate him with what he
wanted.

Nigel had, according to the fashion of the old world in
Scotland, received an education which might, in most
particulars, be termed simple, hardy, and unostentatious 5
but he had, nevertheless, been accustomed to much per-
sonal deference, and to the constant attendance and
ministry of one or more domestics. This was the uni-
versal custom in Scotland, where wages were next to
nothing, and where, indeed, a man of title or influence
might have as many attendants as he pleased, for theTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 7d

mere expense of food, clothes, and countenance. Nigel
was therefore mortified and displeased when he found
himself without notice or attendance; and the more dis-
satisfied, because he was at the same time angry with
himself for suffering such a trifle to trouble him at all,
amongst matters of more deep concernment. “ There
must surely be some servants in so large a house as this,”
said he, as he wandered over the place, through which he
was conducted by a passage which branched off from the
gallery. As he went on he tried the entrance to several
apartments, some of which he found were locked and
others unfurnished, all apparently unoccupied; so that at
length he returned to the staircase, and resolved to make
his way down to the lower part of the house, where he
supposed he must at least find the old gentleman, and his
ill-favoured daughter. With this purpose he first made
his entrance into a little low, dark parlour, containing a
well-worn leathern easy chair, before which stood a pair
of slippers, while on the left side rested a crutch-handled
staff; an oaken table stood before it, and supported a
huge desk clamped with iron, and a massive pewter ink-
stand. Around the apartment were shelves, cabinets, and
other places convenient for depositing papers. A sword,
musketoon, and a pair of pistols, hang over the chimney,
in ostentatious display, as if to intimate that the proprie-
tor would be prompt in the defence of his premises.
“This must be the usurer’s den,” thought Nigel ; and
he was about to call aloud, when the old man, awakened
even by the slightest noise, for avarice seldom sleeps
sound, soon was heard from the inner room, speaking in
a voice of irritability, rendered more tremulous by his
morning cough.
« Ugh, ugh, ugh—who is there? J say—ugh, ugh—4

3
~
f
I

WAVERLEY NCVELS.

76

who is there? Why, Martha—ugh, ugh—Martha Trap-
bois-—-here be thieves in the house, and they will not
thieves, thieves—ugh, ugh,

 

speak to me—why, Martha!
noh!”

Nigel endeavoured to explain, but the idea of thieves
had taken possession of the old man’s pineal gland, and
he kept coughing and screaming, and screaming and
coughing, until the gracious Martha entered the apart-
ment; and, having first out-screamed her father, in order
to convince him that there was no danger, and to assure
him that the intruder was their new lodger, and having
as often heard her sire qeculaier. Hold him fast—ugh,
ugh—hold him fast till I come,” she at length succeeded
in silencing his fears and his clamour, and then coldly
and dryly asked Lord Glenvarloch what he wanted

 

her father’s apartment.

Her lodger had, in the meantime, leisure to contem-
plate her appearance, which did not by any means 1m-
prove the idea he had formed of it by candlelight on the
preceding evening ‘She was dressed in eae was called
a Queen Mary’s ruff and farthingale ; not the falling ruff
with which the unfortunate Mary of Scotland is usually
painted, but that which, with more than Spanish stiffness,
surrounded the throat, and set off the morose head of her
fierce namesake, of Smithfield memory. ‘This antiquated
dress assorted well with the faded complexion, gray eyes,
thin lips, and austere visage of the antiquated maiden,

which was, moreover, enhanced ty a black hood, worn as
her head-gear, carefully disposed so as to prevent any of
her hair from escaping to view, probably because the
simplicity of the period knew no art of disguising the
colour with which time had begun to grizzle her tresses.

©

Her figure was tall, thin, and flat, with skinny arms andTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. LL

hands, and feet of the larger size, cased in huge high-
heeled shoes, which added height to a stature already

ungainly. Apparently some art had been used by the

D

e
tailor, to conceal a slight defect of shape, occasioned by
the accidental elevation of one shoulder above the other;
but the praiseworthy efforts of the ingenious mechani¢
had only succeeded in calling the attention of the ob-
server to his benevolent purpose, without demonstrating
that he had been able to achieve it.

Such was Mrs. Martha rite whose dry “ What
were you seeking here, sir?” fell again, and with reiter-
ated sharpness, on the ear of Nigel, as he gazed upon her
presence, and compared it internally to one of the faded
and grim figures in the old tapestry which adorned his
bedstead. It was, however, necessary to reply, and he
answered, that he came in search of the servants, as he
desired to have a fire kindled in his apartment on account
of the rawness of the morning.

“The woman who does our Sees answered
rant

          

Mistress Martha, “comes at eight o’clo
fire sooner, there are fagots and a iy of sea-coal in

the stone-closet at the head of the stair—and there is a

 

flint and steel on the upper shelf—you can light fire for
yourself if you will.”

“ No—no—no, Martha,” ejaculated her father, who,
having donned his rusty tunic, with his hose all ungirt,
and his feet slipshod, hast tily came out of the inner apart-
ment, with his mind probably full of robbers, for he had
a naked rapier in his hand, which still looked formidable,
though rust had somewhat marred its shine.-—What he
had heard at entrance about lighting a fire. had na
nowever, the current of his ideas. “ No—no-—-no,” he

pried, and each negative was more emphatic than its13 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

predecessor,—“ The gentleman shall not have the trouble
to put on a fire—ugh—ueh,. Ill put it on myself, for a
con-si-de-ra-ti-on.”

This last word was a favourite expression with the old
gentleman, which he pronounced in a peculiar manner
gasping it out syllable by syllable, and laying a strong
emphasis upon the last. It was, indeed, a sort of fy rotect-
ing clause, by vhich he guarded himself against all in-
conveniences attendant on the rash habit of offering
service or civility of any kind, the which, when hastily
snapped at by those to whom they are uttered, give the
profferer sometimes room to repent his promptitude.

“For shame, father,” said Martha; “that must not be.
Master Grahame will kindle his own fire, or wait till
the char-woman comes to do it for him, just as ‘kes him
best.” |

“No, child—no, child. Child Martha, no,” reiterated
the old miser—“no char-woman shall ever touch a orate

3?

in my house; they put—ueh, ugh—the fagot uppermost,
and so the coal kindles not, and the flame goes up the
chimney, and wood and heat are both thrown away.
Now, I will lay it properly for the gentleman, for a con-
sideration,.so that it shall last ugh, ugh—last the whole

©

 

day.” Here his vehemence increased his cough so
violently, that Nigel could only, from a scattered word
here and there, comprehend that it was a recommendation
to his daughter to remove the poker and tongs frem thie
stranger’s fireside, with an assurance, that, when neces-
sary, his landlord would be in attendance to adjust it him-
self, “for a consideration.”

Martha paid as little attention to the old man’s injune-
lions as a er inant dame gives to those of a henpecked

husband. She only repeated, in a deeper and moreTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL.

emphatic tone of censure,—‘ For shame, father—tor
shame!” then, turning to her guest, said, with her usual
ungraciousness of manner,—“ Master Grahame—it is
best fo be plain with you at first. My father is an old,
a very old man, and his wits, as you may see, are some-
what weakened—though I would not advise yeu to make
a bargain with him, else you may find them too sharp for
your own. - For. myself, J am a lone woman, and, to say
truth, care little to see or converse with any one. If you
ean be satisfied with house-room, shelter, and safety, it
will be your own fault if you have them not, and they are
not always to be found in this unhappy quarter. But, if
you seek deferential observance and attendance, I tell
you at once you will not find them here.”

“JT am not wont either to thrust myself upon acquaint
ance, madam, or to give trouble,” said the guest; “ nev-
ertheless I shall need the assistance of a domestic to
assist me to dress—Perhaps you can recommend me to
such ?”

“Yes, to twenty,” answered Mistress Martha, “ who will
pick your purse while they tie your points, and cut your
throat while they smooth your pillow.”

“J will be his servant myself,” said the old man, whose
intellect, for a moment distanced, had again, in some
measure, got up with the conversation. “I will brush

and tie his points—ugh, ugh—and

 

his cloak—ugh, ugh
clean his shoes—ugh—and run on his errands with speed
and satety—ugh, ugh, ugh, ugh—tor a consideration.”

“ Good-morrow to you, sir,” said Martha to Nigel, in
a tone of direct and positive dismissal. “It cannot be
agreeable to a daughter that a stranger should hear her
fther speak thus. If you be really a gentleman, you

will retire to your own apaitroent.”30 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

“J will not delay a moment,” said Nigel, respectfully,
for he was sensible that circumstances palliated the
woman’s rudeness. “I would but ask you, if seriously
there can be danger in procuring the assistance «f a
serving-man in this place?”

“Young gentleman,” said Martha, “you must know
little of Whitefriars to ask the question. We live alone
in this house, and seldom has a stranger entered it ;
nor should you, to be plain, had my will been consulted.

4

en K 7 Fl Ss 1
see if that of a castle can be better

 

Look at the door
secured ; the windows of the first floor are grated on the
outside, and within, look to these shutters.”

She pulled one of them,aside, and showed a pondevous
apparatus of bolts and chains for securing the window-

4
o
shutters, while her father, pressing to her side, seized her
gown with «u trembling hand, and said, in a low whisper,
“Show not the trick of* locking and undoing them.
Show him not the trick on’t, Martha—ugh, ugh—on no

o

consideration.” Martha went on, without paying him
any attention.

“And yet, young gentleman, we have been more than
once like to find all these defences too weak to protect
our lives; such an evil effect on the wicked generation
around us hath been made by the unhappy report of my
poor father’s wealth.”

“Say nothing of that, housewife,” said the miis_r, his
irritability increased by the very sup

“9,

position of his being
wealthy—‘“ Say nothing of that, or I will beat thee, house-
wife—beat thee with my staff, for fetching and carrying
lies that will procure our throats to be cut at last—ugh,
ugh.—_I am but a poor man,” he continued, turning td
Nigel—“a very poor man, that am willing to do any
honest turn upon earth, for a modest consideration.”THE FORTUNES OF NIGED. 81
“I therefore warn you of the life you must lead, young

33 oa
gentleman,” said Martha; “the poor woman who do
the char-work will

es
assist you so far as is in her power,
but the wise man is his own best servant and assistant.”

“Tt is a lesson you have taught me, madam, and IT
thank you for it—I will assuredly study it at leisure.”

“You will do well,” said Martha; “and, as you seem
thankful for advice, I, though I am no professed coun-
sellor of others, will give you more. Make no intimacy
with any one in Whitefriars—borrow no money, on any
score, especially from my father, for, dotard as he seems,
he will make an ass of you. Last, and best of all,
stay here not an instant longer than you can help it.
Farewell, sir.”

“A gnarled tree may bear good fruit, and a harsh
nature may give good counsel,” thought the Lord of
Glenvarloch, as he retreated to his own apartment, where
the same reflection occurred to him again and again, while,
unable as yet-to reconcile himself to the thoughts of be-
coming his own fire-maker, he walked up and down his
bedroom, to warm himself by exercise.

At length his meditations arranged themselves in the
following soliloquy—by which expression I beg leave to
observe, once for all, that I do not mean that Nigel liter-
ally said. aloud, with his bodily organs, the words which
follow in inverted commas, (while pacing the room by
himself,) but that I myself choose to present to my dear-
ist reader the.picture of my hero’s mind, his reflections
and resolutions, in the form of a speech, rather than in
that of a narrative. In other words, I have put his
thoughts into language; and this I conceive to be the
purpose of the soliloquy upon the stage as well as in the
tloset, being at once the most natural, and perhaps the

VOL. XXVIII. 0eee

 

     
 
  
  
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
   
 
 
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
  

B2 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

only way of communicating to the spectator what is sup-
posed to be passing in the > bosom of the scenic personage
There are no such soliloquies in nature, it is true 5 but,
unless they were received as a conventional medium of
communication betwixt the poet and the audience, we
should reduce dramatic authors to the recipe of Master
Puff, who makes Lord Burleigh intimate a long train of
political reasoning to the audience, by one comprehens sive
shake of his noddle. In narrative, no doubt, the writer
has the alternative of telling that his personages thought
so and so, inferred thus and thus, and arrived at such and
such a conclusion; but the soliloquy is a more concise and
spirited mode. of communicating the same information ;
and therefore thus communed,-or thus might have com-
muned, the Lord of Glenvarloch with his own mind.

“ She is right, and has taught me a lesson I will profit
by. I have been, through my whole life, one who leant
upon others for that assistance which it is more tr uly noble
to derive from my own exertions. J am ashamed of feel-
ing the paltry inconvenience which long habit has led
me to annex to the want of a servant’s assistance—I am
ashamed of that ; but far, far more am J ashamed to have
suffered the same habit of throwing my own burden on
others, to render me, since I came to this city, a mere
victim of those events, which I have never even at-

 

tempted to influence—a thing never acting but perpct
ually acted upon—protected by one friend, deceived by
another ; but in the advantage which I received from the
one, and the evil I have sustained from the other, as
passive and helpless as a boat that drifts without oar or
rudder at the mercy of the winds and waves. I became
a courtier because Heriot so advised it
cause Dalgarno so contrived it

 

a gamester be-

 

an Alsatian, becauseTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL.

   

83
Lowestoffe so willed it. Whatever of good or bad has
befallen me, hath arisen out of the agency of others, not

from my own. ee father’s son must no longer hold this

facile and pue on yurse. Live or die, sink or swim,
Nigel! Olifaunt, ne moment, shall owe his safety,

success, and he to his own exertions, or shall fall
with the credit of having at least exerted his own free
agency. I will write it down in my tablets, in her very
words,—-‘ The wise man is his own best assistant.’ ”

He had just put his tablets in his pocket when the old
char-woman, who, to add to her efficiency, was sadly crip-
pled by rheumatism, hobbled into the room, to try if she
could gain a small gratification by waiting on the stranger.
She readily undertook to get Lord Glenvarloch’s break-
fast, and, as there was an eating-house at the next. door,
she succeeded in a shorter time than Nigel had augured.

As his solitary meal was finished, one of the Temple
porters, or inferior officers, was announced, as seeking
Master Grahame, on the part of his friend, Master Lowe-
stoffe ; and, being admitted by the old woman to his
apartment, he delivered to Nice a small mail-trunk, with
the clothes he had desired should be sent to him, and
then, with more mystery, put into his hand a casket, or
strong-box, which he carefully concealed beneath his
cloak. “Iam glad to be rid on’t,” said the fellow, as he
placed it on the table.

“Why, it is surely not so very ree answered Nigel,
and you are a stout young man.”

«Ay, s sir,” replied the fellow; “but Samson himself
would not have carried such a matter safely through
Alsatia, had the lads of the Huff known what it was,
Please tc look into it, sir, and see all is right—I am an
honest fellow, and it comes safe out of my hands- How84 WAVERLEY NOVELS

Jong i ae remain so afterwards, will depend on youl

own care. would not my good name were to suffer by

any after-clap. ,

To satisfy the scruples of the messenger, Lord Gle
varloch opened the casket in his presence, and saw iia
his small stock of money, with two or three valuable
papers which it contained, and ee the original
gign-manual which the King had granted in his favour,
were in the same order in which he had left them. At the
man’s farther instance, he availed himself of the writing
materials which were in the casket, in order to send a lme
to Master Lowestoffe, declaring that his property had
reached him in safety. He added some grateful acknowl-
edgments for Lowestoffe’s services, and, just as he was
sealing and delivering his ae to the messenger, his aged
landlord entered the apartment. His threadbare suit of
black clothes was now somewhat better arranged than
they had been in the dishabille of his first appearance,
and his nerves and intellects seemed to be less. fluttered ;
for, without much coughing or hesitation, he invited Nigel
to partake of a morning draught of wholesome single ale,
which he brought in a large leathern tankard, or black-
jack, carried in the one hand, while the ies stirred it
round with a sprig of rosemary, to give it, as the old man
said, a flavour.

Nigel declined the courteous proffer, and intimated by
his manner, while he did so, that he desired no intrusion
on the privacy of his own apartment; which, indeed, he
was the more entitled to maintain, considering the cold
reception he had that morning met with when straying
from its precincts into those of his landlord. But the
open casket contained matter, or rather metal, so attrac
tive to old Trapbois, that he remained fixed, like a settingTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL.

dog at a dead point, his nose advanced, and one hand
expanded like the lifted forepaw, by which that sagacious
quadruped sometimes indicates that it is a hare which he
as in the wind. Nigel was about to break the charm
which had thus arrested old Trapbois, by shutting the lid
of the casket, when his attention was withdrawn from him
by the question of the messenger, who, holding out the
letter, asked whether he was to leave it at Mr. Lowe-
stoffe’s chambers in the Temple, or carry it to the
Marshalsea °

“The Marshalsea?” repeated Lord Glenvarloch;
“ what of the Marshalsea?”

“ Why, sir,” said the man, “ the poor eentleman is laid
up there in lavender, because, they say, his own kind
heart led him to scald his fingers with another man’s
broth.”

Nigel hastily snatched back the letter, broke the seal,
joined to the contents his earnest entreaty that he might
be instantly acquainted with the cause of his confinement,
and added, that, if it arose out of his own unhappy affair,
it would be of brief duration, since he had, even before
hearing of a reason which so peremptorily demanded that
he should surrender himself, adopted the resolution to do
so, as the manliest and most proper course which his ill
fortune and imprudence had left in his own power. He
therefore conjured Mr. Lowestoffe to have no delicacy
upon this score, but, since his surrender was what he had
determined upon as a sacrifice due to his-own character,
that he would have the frankness to mention in what
manner it could be best arranged, so as tO extricate him,
Lowestoffe, from the restraint to which the writer could
not but fear his friend had been subjected, on account of

the generous interest which he had taken in his concerns:B6 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

The letter concluded, that the writer would suffer twenty-
four hours to elapse in expectation of hearing from him,
and, at the end of that period, was determined to put his
purpose in execution. He delivered the billet to the
messenger, and, enforcing his request with a piece of
money, urged him, without a moment’s delay, to cor ivey
it to the hands of Master Lowestoffe.

“ {—-J—I—will carry it to him myself,” said the old
usurer, “for half the consideration.”

The man, who heard this attempt to take his duty and
perquisites over his head, lost no time in pocketing the
inoney, and departed on his errand as fast as he could.

“ Master Trapbois,” said Nigel, addressing the old man
somewhat impatiently, “had you any particular commands
for me?”

“I—I—came to see if you rested well,” answered the
old man; “ and af I could do =5 thing to serve you,
on any consideration.”

“Sir, I thank you,” said Lord Glenvarloch—*I thank
you;” and, ere he could say more, a heavy footstep was
heard on the stair.

“My God!” exclaimed the old man, starting up—
“Why, Be iy chs ar-woman—why, daughter,—draw
bolt, I say, housewifes—the door hath been left a-latch!”

The door of the chamber opened wide, and in strutted
the portly bulk of the military hero whom Nigel had on
the preceding evening in vain endeavoured to recognise

 

ra,THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 87

CHAPTER XXIII.

Swash- Buckler .—Bilboe’s the word—

Pierrot.—It hath been spoke too often,
The spell hath lost its charm—I tell thee, friend,
The meanest cur that trots the street, will turn
And snarl against. your proffer’d bastinado.

Swash-Buckler.— Tis art shall do it, then—I will dose the mongrels—=
Or in plain terms, I'll use the private knife
Stead of the brandish’d falchion.

OLD PLAY.

Tur noble Captain Colepepper or Peppercull, for he
ras known by both these names, and some others besides,
had a martial and a swashing exterior, which, on the pres-
ent oceasion, was rendered yet more peculiar, by a patch
covering his left eye and a part of the cheek. The
sleeves of his thickset velvet jerkin were polished and
shone with grease—his buff gloves had huge tops, which
reached almost to the elbow ; his sword-belt, of the same
materials, extended its breadth from his haunch-bone to his
small ribs, and supported on the one side his large black-
hilted back-sword, on the other a dagger of like proportions.
He paid his compliments to Nigel with that air of pre-
determined effrontery, which announces that it will not be
repelled by any coldness of reception, asked Trabpois how
he did, by the familiar title of olk Peter Pillory, and
then, seizing upon the black-jack, emptied it off at a
he last and youngest freeman
i¢ Master Nigel Grahame.

itcher and drawn his

draught, to the health of t
of Alsatia, the noble and lovit
When he had set down the empty pOO WAVERLEY NOVELS

breath, he began to criticise the liquor which it had lately
contained.— Sufficient single beer, old Pillory—and, as
I take it, brewed at the rate of a nutshell of malt toa
butt of Thames—as dead as a corpse, too, and yet it went
hissing down my throat—bubbling, by Jove, like water

 

upon hot iron.—You left us early, noble Master Gra:
hame, but, good faith, we had a carouse to your honour-—
we heard butt ring hollow ere we parted; we were as
loving as inkle-weavers—we fought, too, to finish off the
gawdy. Ibear some marks of the parson about me, you
see—a note of the sermon or so, which should have been
addressed to my ear, but missed its mark, and reached
my left eye. The man of God bears my sign-manual
too, but the Duke made us friends again, and it cost me
more sack than I could carry, and all the Rhenish to
boot, to pledge the seer in the way of love and reconcili-
ation—But, Caracco! ’tis a vile old cantir ng slave for all
that, whom I will one day beat out of his devil’s livery
into all the colours of the rainbow.—Basta!—Said I well,
old Trapbois? Where is thy d: 1ughter, mah ’—what says
she to my suit?—’tis an honest one—wilt have a soldier
for thy son-in-law, old Pillory, to mingle the soul of mar-
tial honour with thy thieving, miching, petty- -larceny
blood, as men put bold brandy into muddy ale?”

“My daughter receives not company so early, noble
Captain,” said the usurer, and concluded his speech with
a dry, emphatical “ugh, ugh.”

 

“ What, upon no con-si-de-ra-ti-on?” said the captain ;
“and wherefore not, old Truepenny? she has not much
time to lose in driving her bargain, methinks.’

“ Captain,” said Trapbois, “I was upon some little busi-
néss with our noble friend here, Master Nigel Green—

agh, ugh, ugh ”—THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 89

«And you would have me gone, I warrant you?” an-
awered the bully; “but patience, old Puillory, thine hour
is not yet come, man—You see,” he said pointing to the
casket, “that noble Master Grahame, whom you call
Sreen, has got the decuses and the smelts.”

“Which you would willingly rid him of, ha! hai—
ugh, ugh,” answered the usurer, “if you knew how—but,
lack-a-day! thou art one of those that come out for wool,
and art sure to go home shorn. Why now, but that I am
sworn against laying of wagers, I would risk some consid
eration that this honest guest of mine sends thee home
penniless, if thou darest venture with him—ugh, ugh—at
any game which gentlemen play at.”

“Marry, thou hast me on the hip there, thou old

3?

miserly cony-catcher!” answered the captain, taking a
bale of dice from the sleeve of his coat; “I must always
keep company with these damnable doctors, and they
have made me every baby’s cully, and purged my purse
into an atrophy; but never mind, it passes the time as
well as aught else—How say you, Master Grahame Cae

The fellow paused; but even the extremity of his im-
pudence could hardly withstand the cold look of utter
contempt with which Nigel received his proposal, return-
ing it with a simple, “I only play where I know my com-
pany, and never in the morning.”

“Cards may be more agreeable,” said Captain Cole-
pepper; “and, for knowing your company, here is honest
old Pillory will tell you Jack Colepepper plays as truly
Men

 

on the square as e’er a man that trowled a die.
talk of high and low dice, Fulhams and bristles, topping,
knapping, slurring, stabbing, and a hundred ways of
rooking besides; but broil me like a rasher of bacon, if I
could ever learn the trick on *em!”pa Sig et at
SR EEE?

<> Eee. ys

bata

WAVERLEY NOVELS.

“You have got the vocabulary perfect, sir, at the
least,” said Nigel, in the same cold tone.

“Yes, by mine honour have I,” returned the Hector;
«they are phrases that a gentleman learns about town.—
But perhaps you would like a set at tennis, or a game at
balloon—we have an indifferent good court hard by here,
and a set of as gentleman-like blades as ever banged
Jeather against brick and mortar.”

“T beg to be excused at present,’ said Lord Glenvar-
loch; “and, to be plain, among the valuable privileges
your society has conferred on me, I hope I may reckon
that of being private in my own apartment when I have
a mind.”

“Your humble servant, sir,’ said the captain; “and I

 

thank you for your civility—Jack Colepepper can have
enough of company, and thrusts himself on no one.—But
perhaps you will like to make a match of skittles ?”

“T am by no means that way disposed,” replied the
young nobleman.

“Or to leap a flea—run a snail—match a wherry, eh?”

“ No—I will do none of these,” answered Nigel.

Here the old man, who had been watching with his
little peery eyes, pulled the bulky Hector by the skirt,
and whispered, “Do not vapour him the huff, it will
not pass
presently.”

 

let the trout play, he will rise to the hook

But the bully, confiding in his own strength, and prob-
ably mistaking for timidity the patient scorn with which
Nigel received his proposals, incited also by the open
casket, began to assume a louder and more threatening
tone. He drew himself up, bent his brows, assumed a
look of professional ferocity, and continued, “In Alsatia,

Inok ye, a man must be neighbourly and companionable,THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 9}

Zouns! sir, we would slit any nose that was turned up at

us honest fellows.—Ay, sir, we would slit it up to the
pristle, though it had smelt nothing all its life but musk,

il
oO

ambergris, and court-scented water—Rabbit ine, Lam a
soldier, and care no more for a lord than a lamphehter.”
“Are you seeking a quarrel, sir?” said Nigel, calmly,
having in truth no desire to engage himself im a discred-
itable broil in such a place, and with such a character.

“ Quarrel, sir?” said the Captain; “I am not seeking
a quarrel, though I care not how soon I find one. Only
I wish you to understand you must be neighbourly, that’s
all. What if we should go over thé water to the garden,
and see a bull hanked this fine morning—’sdeath, will
you do nothing ?”

“ Something I am strangely tempted to do at this mo-
ment,” said Nigel.

“ Videlicet,” said Colepepper, with a swaggering air,
“let us hear the temptation.”

“Tam tempted to throw you headlong from the win-
dow, unless you presently make the best of your way
down stairs.”

“Throw me from the window ?—hell and furies!” ex-
claimed the captain; “I have confronted twenty crooked
sabres at Buda with my single rapier, and shall a chitty-
faced, beggarly Scots lordling, speak of me and a window
in the same breath ?—Stand off, old Pillory, let me make
Scots collops of him—he dies the death.”

“ For the love of Heaven, gentlemen,” exclaimed the
old miser, throwing himself between them, “do not break
the peace on any consideration! Noble guest, forbear
the captain—he is a very Hector of Troy—Trusty Hee-

r, forbear my guest—he is like to prove a very Actilles
~-uzh—ugh”WAVERLEY NOVELS.

Here he was interrupted by his asthma, but, neverthe
less, continued to interpose his person between Colepep:
per (who had unsheathed his whinyard, and was making
vain passes at his antagonist) and Nigel, who had stepped
back to take his sword, and now held it undrawn in his
left hand.

“Make an end of this foolery, you scoundrel!” said
Nigel—“ Do you come hither to vent your noisy oaths
and your bottled-up valour on me? You seem to know
me, and I am half-ashamed to say, I have at length been
able to recollect you—remember the garden behind the
ordinary, you dastardly ruffian, and the speed with which
fifty men saw you run from a drawn sword.—Get you
gone, sir, and do not put me to the vile labour of cudgel-
Ing such a cowardly rascal down stairs.”

The bully’s countenance grew dark as night at. this
unexpected recognition; for he had undoubtedly thought
himself secure in his change of dress, and his black patch,
from being discovered by a person who had seen him but
once. He set his teeth, clenched his hands, and it seemed
as if he was seeking for a moment’s courage to fly upon his
antagonist. But his heart failed, he sheathed his sword,
turned his back in gloomy silence, and spoke not until he
reached the door, when, turning round, he said, with a
eep oath, “If I be not avenged of you for this insolence
ere many days go by, I would the gallows had my body
and the devil my spirit!”

So saying, and with a look where determined spite and
malice made his features savagely fierce, though they
could not overcome his fear, he turned and left the house,
Nigel followed him as far as the gallery at the head of
the staircase, with the purpose of seeing him depart, and
ere he returned was met by Mistress Martha T rapbois,THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL.

whom the noise of the quarrel had summoned from her
own apartment. He could not resist saying to her in his
natural displeasure—* I would, madam, you could teach
your father and his friends the lesson which you had the
goodness to bestow on me this morning, and prevail cn
them to leave me the unmolested privacy of my own
apartment.”

“Tf you came hither for quiet or retirement, young
man,” answered she, “you have been advised to an evil
retreat. You might seek mercy in the Star-chamber, or
holiness in hell, with better success than quiet in Alsatia.
But my father shall trouble you no longer.”

So saying, she entered the apartment, and, fixing her
eyes on the casket, she said, with emphasis—“ If you dis-
play such a loadstone, it will draw many a steel knife to
your throat.”

While Nigel hastily shut the casket, she addressed her
father, upbraiding him with small reverence for keeping
company with the cowardly, hectoring, mur Jering villain,
John Colepepper:

“Ay, ay, child,” said the old man, with the cunning
leer which intimated perfect satisfaction with his own
superior address—* 1 know—I know—ugh—but Till
eross-bite him—I know them all, and I can manage them
—ay, ay—I have the trick on’t—ugh—ugh.”

« You manage, father,” said the austere damsel; “you
will manage to have your throat cut, and that ere long.
You cannot hide from them: your gains and your gold as
formerly.”

“My gains, wench? my gold?”
£ alack-a-day, few of these and hard
robe:

« This will not serve you, father, any longer,

said the usurer;
eot—few and hard

> said she<> Petepn

12 SENN AT

<a tases Se

O4 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

‘and had not served you thus long, but that Bully Cole
pepper had contrived a cheaper w ay of plundering your
house, even by means of my miserable self.—Bu 1y do
I speak to him of all this?” she said, checking herself,
and shrugging her shoulders with an expression of pity
which did not fall much short of scorn.  “ He hears me

not—he thinks not of me.—lIs it not strange that the love
of gathering gold should survive the care to preserve both
property and life ? ”

“Your father,” said Lord Glenvarloch, who could not
help respecting the strong sense and feeling shown by
this poor woman, even amidst all her rude sness and sever-
ity, “your father seems to h lave his faculties sufficie ntly
alert when he is in the exercise of his ordinary pursuits
and functions. I wonder he is not sensible of
of your arguments.”

the w eight

“Nature made him a man senseless of

danger, and that
insens a is the best thing I have derived from ne

said she; “age has left him shrewdness enough to tread

his old beaten paths, but not
old blind horse will] long continue to go its rounds in the
mill, when it would stumble j

“ Daughter !—_why

to seek new courses. The

in the open meadow.”

ee housewife ! ” said the

old man, aw akening out of some dream, in which he had

been sne ering and chuckling in imagination, probably

Over a successful piece of roguery,—* go to chamber,
wench—go to chamber—draw. bolts. and chain—look
tharp to door—let none in or out but worshipful Master
Grahame-—I must take my cloak, and go to Duke Hilde.
brod—ay, ay, time has been, my own
enough; but the lower we
wind.”

And, with his wonted chorus of muttering and cough.

warrant wags
lie, the more are we under theTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 95

ing the old man left the apartnient. His daughter stood
for a moment looking after him, with her usual expre ssion
of discontent and sorrow.

“ You ought to persuade your father.” said Nigel,
leave this evil neighbourhood, if you are in reality appre-
hensive for his safety.”

“Fle would be safe in no other quarter,”
T would rather the old man were dead than

daughter; “ 4
publicly dishonoured. In other quarters he would be
hich ventures into sun-

pelted and pursued, like an owl wh
shine. bere he was safe. while his comrades could avail
lents : he 1s now squee zed and fleeced

said the

themselves of his. ta
by them on every pretence.
1 on the rand, from which each may §
and the very jealousy which they e atertain respecting him
nay perhaps induce them to euard

They consider him as 4

vesse snatch a prey ;

as a common property,
ate and daring assaults.”

to leave this place, ” an-
sht find a safe retreat in

him from more priv
« Still, methinks, you pught
swered Nigel, “ since you mig
some distant country.”
“Tn Scotland, doubtless,” said she, looking at him with

a sharp and suspicious eye, “ and enrich strangers with

our rescued wealth—Ha ! young man! 2?
«“ Madam, if you knew me.” said Lord Gl lenvarloc!l
the suspicion a in your oe

“you W rould spare t
« Who shall assure me of that said Martha, s sharply.
know

«They say you are brawler and a gamester, ee

far these are to be trusted by t the unhap py:
1» caid Lord Glen-

3?

how
«They do me wroug, by Heaven!
varloch.
“Jt may be sO,
in the degree < of your vice or your folly ;
that the one or the other has conducted. you hither, and

> soid Martha; “ I am little inte rested

but it is plain4 oy 0 NORMA
i SAE TER ety Ye Pe ae

6 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

that your best a of peace, safety, and happiness, is to
be gone, with the least possible delay, from a place which
is always a sty for swine, and often a shambles.” Se
saying, she left the apartment.

There was something in the ungracious mauner of this
female, amounting almost to co ontempt of him she spoke
to—-an indignity to which Glenvarloch, notwithstan¢ ling
bis poverty, had not as yet been personal lly exposed, and
which, therefore, gave him a transitory feeling of painful
surprise. Neither did the dark hints which Martha
threw out concerning the danger of his place of refuge,
sound by any means agreeably to his ears. The bravest
man, placed in a situation in which he is surrounded hy
suspicious persons, and removed from all counsel and
assistance, except those afforded by a valiant heart and 4
strong arm, experiences a sinking of the heart, a con-
sciousness of abandonment, which for a moment chills his
blood, and depresses his natural gallantry of disposition.

But, if sad reflections arose in Nigel’s mind, he had
not time to indulge them, and, if he saw little prospect of
finding friends in Aisin he found that he was not likely
to be solitary for lack of visitors.

He had scarcely paced his apartment for ten minutes,
endeavouring to arrange his ideas on the course which he

was to pursue on quitting Als satia, when he ivas inter-

rupted by the Sovereign of the quarter, the great Duke
Hildebrod himself, before whose approach the bolts and
thains of the miser’s dw elling fell, or withdrew, as of their
own accord; and both the folding leaves of the door
were opened, that he might roll himself into the house
like a huge butt of liquor, a vessel to which he bore a
considerable outward resemblance, both in size, shape,
complexion, and contents.THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL.

“ Gvod-morrow to your lordship,” said the greasy pun-
theon, cocking his single eye, and rolling it upon Nigel
with a seal ur expression of familiar impudence ; whilst
his grim bull-dog, which was close at his heels, made a
kind of gurgling in his throat, as if saluting, in similar
fashion, a starved cat, the only living thing in Trapbois’s
house which we have not yet enumerated, and which had
flowr. up to the top of the tester, where she stood clutch-
ing and grinning at the mastiff, whose greeting she ac.
cepted with as much good-will as Nigel bestowed on that
of the dog’s master.

“ Peace, Belzie !—D—n thee, peace!” said Duke Hil-
debrod. “Beasts and fools will be meddling, my lord.”

“T thought, sir,” answered Nigel, with as much haugh-
tiness as was consistent with the cool distance which he
desired to preserve, “I had told you, my name at present
was Nigel Grahame.”

His eminence of Whitefriars on this burst out into a
loud, chuckling, impudent laugh, repeating the word, till
‘Niggle Green—

 

his voice was almost inarticulate,
Nigele Green—Niggle Green !—why, my lord, you
would be queered in the drinking of a penny pot of
Malmsey, if you cry before you are touched. Why, you
have told me the secret even now, had I not had a shrewd
guess of it before. Why, Master Nigel, since that is the
word, I only call you my lord, because we made you a
peer of Alsatia last night, even the sack was predomi-
nant.—How you look now!—Ha! ha lea, 2

Nigel, indeed, conscious “that he had unnecessarily be-

n for the honours conferred, but did not propose to

rayed himself, replied ha istily, —“ he was much obliged te

remain in the Sanctuary long enough to enjoy them.”
“Why, that may be as you will, an you wiJl walk “by

“OL. XXVIII. 7auth ea

"eRe RRR

terete

erties

DS WAVERLEY NOVELS.

wise counsel,” answered the ducal porpoise ; and, although
Nigel remained standing, in hopes to accelerace his guest's
departure, he threw himself into one of the old tay pestry«
backed easy-chairs, which cracked under his weight, aa
began to call for old Trapbois.

The crone of all work appearing instead of her mastez
the Duke cursed her for a careless jade, to let a strange
gentleman, and a brave guest, go without his morning’s
draught.

“T never take one, sir,” said Glenvarloch.

“Time to begin—time to begin,” answered the Duke.
—“ Here, you old refuse of Sathan, go to our palace, and
fetch Lord Green’s morning draught. Let us see—what

 

shall it be, my Lord ?—a humming double pot of ale, with
a roasted crab dancing init like=a, wherry abeve bridge ?

QO

—or, hum—ay, young men are sweet-toothed—a quart
of burnt sack, with sugar and spice -—good against the

fogs. Or, what say you to-s ipping a gill of right distilled

waters? Come, we will have them all, and you shall
take your choice.—Here, yon ieee let Tim send the
ale, and the sack, and the ni pperkin of double-distilled,
with a bit of diet ee or some such trinket, and score it
to the new comer.’

Glenvarloe : bethinking himself that it might be as
well to endure this a insolence for a brief sea on,

gO

as to get into farther discreditable quarrels, suffered him
to take his own way, without interruption, only observing,
“You make yourself at home, sir, in m ly apartinent ; but,
for the time, you may use your pleasure. Meantime, I
would fain know what has procured me the
unexpected visit ?”

“You shall know that when old Deb
liquor—I° never speak of

e honour of this

~~

has brought the
business dry-lipped. Why,THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 99

how she drumbles—I warrant she stops to take a sig on
the road, and then you will think you have had unchris-
tian measure.—In the meanwhile, look at that dog there
—look Belzebub in the face, and tell me if you ever saw
a sweeter beast—never flew but at head in his life.’

And, after this congenial panegyric, he was ae
with a tale of a dog and a bull, which threatened to be
somewhat of the longest, when he was interrupted by the
return of the old crone, and two of his own tapsters,
bearing the various kinds of drinkables which he had
demanded, and which probably was the only species of
interruption he would have endured with equanimity.

When: the cups and cans were duly arranged upon the
table, and when Deborah, whom the ducal generosity hon-
oured with a penny farthing in the way of gratuity, had
withdrawn with her satellites, the worthy potentate,
having first slightly invited Lord Glenvarloch to partake
of the liquor which he was to pay ! ‘or, and after having
observed, that, excepting three sade egos, a pint of
bastard, and a cup of clary, he was fasting from every
thing but sin, set himself seriously to reinforce the radical
moisture. Glenvarloch had seen Scottish lairds and
Dutch burgomasters at their potations ; but their exploits
(though each might be termed a thirsty generation) were
nothing to those of Duke Eee who seemed an ab-

solute sandbed, capa ble of absorbing any given quantity

of liquid, without being e ither aiyitied or overflowed.
He drank off the ale to quench a thirst which, as he said,

1 1 , St Amana het
kept him in a fever from morning to nignt, and nD rht tO

to correct the erudity of

ae

yy

morning; tippled off the sacl
the ale; sent the spirits after ie sack to keep all quiet

} Se anit a+
gnd then declared that, probably, he should not tast

aquor till post meridiem, ae it was in comapliment t

we

&PMT ITE = Sight at

 

 

100 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

some especial friend. Finally, he intimated that be was
ready to proceed on the business ae brought him from
home so early, a proposition which Nigel readily received,
though he could not help suspecting that the most im-
portant purpose of Duke Hildebrod’s visit was already
transacted.

In this, however, Lord Glenvarloch proved to be mis-
taken. Hildebrod, before opening what he had to say,
made an accurate survey of the apartment, laying from
time to time, his finger on his nose, and winking on
Nigel with his single eye, while he opened and shut the
doors, lifted the tapestry, which concealed, in one or two
places, the dilapidation of time upon. the wainscoted walls,
peeped into closets, and, finally, looked under the bed, to
assure himself that the coast was clear of listeners and
interlopers. He then resumed his seat, and. beckoned
confidentially to Nigel to draw his chair close to him.

“Tam well as I am, Master Hildebrod,” replied the
young lord, little disposed to encourage the familiarity
which the man endeavoured to fix on him; but the un-
dismayed Duke proceeded as follows :—

“You shall pardon me, my lord—and I now give you
the title right seriously —if I remind you that our waters
may be watched ; for though old Trapbois be as. deaf as
Saint Paul’s, yet his da ughter has oe ears, and shar
eyes enough, and it is of them that it is my business to

speak.”

: ey ;
“Say away, then, sir,” said Nigel, edging his chair

somewhat closer to the I

Quicksand, “ although I cannot
conceive what business I have either with mine host or
his daughter

Gs Sil ches ape ee epee eh” oes <2 9
We will see that ina twinkling of a quart-pot,” an-
swered the gracious Duke; “and first, my lord. you must1HE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 10)

not think to dance ina net before old Jack Hildebrod,
that has thrice your years o’er his head, and was born,
like King Richard, with all his eye-teeth ready cut.”

“ Well, sir, go on,” said Nigel.

“Why, then, my lord, I presume to say, that, if you
are, as I believe you are, that Lord Glenvarloch whom
all the world talk of—the Scotch gallant that has spent
all. to a thin cloak and a light purse—be not moved, my
lord, it is so noised of you—men call you the sparrow-
hawk, who will fly at all—ay, were it in the very Park—
be not moved, my lord.”

“Tam ashamed, sirrah,” replied Glenvarloch, “ that
you should have power to move me by your insolence—
but beware—and, if you indeed guess who I am, consider
how long I may be able to endure your tone of insolent
familiarity.”

“T crave pardon, my lord,” said Hildebrod, with a
sullen, yet apologetic look; “ I meant no harm in speak-
ing my poor mind. I know not what honour there may
be in being familiar with your lordship, but I judge there
is little safety, for Lowestoffe is laid up in lavender only

for having shown you the way into Alsatia ; and so, what

ot

‘s to come of those who maintain you when you are here,
or whether they will get most honour or most trouble
by doing so, I leave with your lordship’s better judg-
ment.”

«J will bring no one into trouble on my account,” said
Lord Glenvarloch. “I will leave Whitefriars to-morrow.
Nay, by Heaven, I will leave it this day.”

“ You will have more wit in your anger, I trust,” sail
uke Hildebrod; “listen first to what I have to sa)
you, and, if honest Jack Hildebrod puts you not ir the

way of nicking them all, may he never cast doublets, or102 WAVERLEY NOVELS

gull a greenhorn again! And so, my lord, in plain
words, you must wap and win.”
“ Your words must be still plainer before I can under-
stand them,” said Nigel. :
“What the devil—a gamester, one who deals with the
devil’s bones and the doctors, and not understand pedlar’s
French! Nay, then, I must speak plain English, and

    

that’s the simpleton’s tongue.”
“ Speak, then, sir,’ said Nigel; “and I pray you be
brief, for I have little more time to bestow on you.”
“Well, then, my lord, to be brief, as you and the law-
yers call it—I understand you have. an estate in the
north, which changes masters for want of the redeeming
ready.— Ay, you start, but you cannot dance in a net

 

before me, as I said before; and so the King runs the
frowning humour on you, and the Court vapours you the
go-by ; and the Prince scowls at you from under his cap;
and the favourite serves you out the puckered brow and

99

 

the cold shoulder; and the favourite’s favourite
“To go no farther, sir,” interrupted Nigel, ‘“ suppose

 

all this true—and what follows? ”
“« What follows ?” returned Duke Hildebrod. “ Marry,

this follows, that you will owe good deed, as well as good

 

will, to him who shall put you in the way to walk with

yesrese catia (tie — x ue z ‘ Haine

your beaver cocked in the presence, as an ye were Karl
of Kildare ; bully the courtiers ; meet the Prince’s blight-
ing look with a bold brow; confront the favourite; baftle
his deputy, and ”——

“This is all well,” said Nigel, “but how is it to be
accomplished ? ”

“ By making thee a Prince of Peru, my lord of the
northern latitudes ; proj pping thine old castle with ingots,

—fertilizing t thy failing f fortunes with gold dust—i shall

   

rTTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 103

but cost thee to put thy baron’s coronet for a day or so on
the brows of an old Caduca here, the man’s daughter of

the house, and thou art master of a mass of treasure that

 

shall do all I have said for thee, and”

‘What, you would have me marry this old gentle-
woman here, the daughter of mine host r” said Nigel,
surprised and angry, yet unable to suppress some desire
to laugh.

“ Nay, my lord, I would have you marry fifty thousand
good Banke pounds ; for that, and better, hath old Trap-
bois hoarded; and thou shalt do a deed of mercy in it to
the old man, who will lose his golden smelts in ‘some
worse way—for now that he is well-nigh past his day of
work, his day of payment is like to follow.”

“Truly, this is a most courteous offer,” said Lord
Glenvarloch; “but may I pray of your ¢ yndeur, most
noble duke, to tell me why you dispose of a ward of so
much wealth on a stranger like me, who may leave you
to-morrow ? ”

“In sooth, my lord,” said the Duke, “that question
smacks more of the wit of Beaujeu’s ordinary, than any
word I have yet heard your lordship speak, and reason it
is you should be answered. ‘Touching my peers, it is but
necessary to say, that Mistress Martha Trapbois will none
of them, whether clerical or laic. The captain hath
asked her, so hath the parson, but she will none of them
—she looks higher than either, and is, to say truth, a
woman of sense, and so forth. too profound, and of spirit
something too high, to put up with greasy buff or rusty
prunella. Lor ourselves, we need but hint that we have
a consort in the land of the living, and, what is more te
purpose, Mrs. Martha knows it. $0, as she will not lace
her kersey hood save with a quality binding, you, my104 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

lord, must be the man, and must carry off fifty thousand
decuses, the spoils of five thousand bullies, cutters, and
spendthrifts,—always deducting from the main sum some
five thousand pounds for our princely advice and coun-
tenance, without which, as matters stand in Alsatia, you
would find it hard to win the plate.”

“ But has your wisdom considered, sir,” replied ~Glen-
vailoch, “ how this wedlock can serve me in my present
emergence ? ”

“ As for that, my lord,” said Duke Hildebrod, “ if with
forty or fifty thousand pounds in your pouch, you cannot
Save yourself, you will deserve to lose your head for your’
folly, and your hand for being close-fisted.”

“ But since your goodness has taken my matters inte
such serious consideration,” continued Nigel, who con-
ceived there was no prudence in breaking with a man,
who, in his way, meant him favour rather than offence,
“perhaps you may be able to tell me how my kindred
will be likely to receive such a bride as you recommend
to me 2.”

“Touching that matter, my lord, I have always heard
your countrymen knew as well as other folks, on which
side their bread was buttered. And, truly, spe: king from
report, I know no place where fifty tl
fifty thousand pounds I
welcome than it is likely to do-in your <

1ousand pounds—
say—will make a woman more
uncient kingdom.
And, truly, saving the slight twist in her shoulder, Mrs.
Martha Trapbois is a person of very awful and majestic
appearance, and may, for aught I know, }

be came of better
blood than any one wots of ;

for old Trapbois looks not
over like to be her father, and |]
bus, liberal sort of woman.”

“Tam afraid,” answered |

er mother was a gener

Nigel, “that chance is ratherTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 105

too vague to assure her a gratious reception into an
honourable house.”

“Why, then, my lord,” replied Hildebrod, “I think it
like she will be even with them; for I will venture to
say, she has as much ill-nature as will make her a match
for your whole clan.”

“"That may inconvenience me a little,” replied Nigel.

“ Not a whit—not a whit,’ said the Duke, fertile in
expedients; “if she should become rather intolerable,
which is not unlikely, your honourable house, which I
presume to be a castle, hath, doubtless, both turrets and
dungeons, and ye may bestow your bonny bride in either
the one or the other, and then you know you will be out
of hearing of her tongue, and she will be either above or
below the contempt of your friends.”

“Tt is sagely counselled, most equitable sir,’ replied
Nigel, “and such restraint would be a fit meed for her
folly that gave me any power over her.”

“ You entertain the project, then, my lord?” said Duke
Hildebrod.

“JT must turn it in my mind for twenty-four hours,”
said Nigel; “and I will pray you so to order matters that
I be not further interrupted by any visitors.”

“ We will utter an edict to secure your privacy,” said
the Duke; “and you do not think,” he added, lowering
his voice to a commercial whisper, “ that ten thousand is
too much to pay to the Sovereign in name of wardship ?”

“Ten thousand!” said Lord Glenvarloch ; “ why, you
said five thousand but now.”

“ Aha! art avised of that?” said the Duke, touching
the side of his nose with his finger; “nay, if you have
marked me so closely, you are thinking on the case more
nearly than I believed, till yon trapped me. Well, wel,106 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

we will not quarrel about the consideration, as old Trap
bois would call it—do you win and wear the dame; it
will be no hard matter with your face and figure, and I
will take care that no one interrupts you. I will have an
edict from the Senate as soon as they meet for their
meridiem.”

So saying, Duke Hildebrod took his leave.THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL.

CHAPTER XXIV.

This is the time—Heaven’s maiden sentinel

Hath quitted her high watch—the lesser spangles
Are paling one by one; give me the ladder

And the short lever—bid Anthony

Keep with his carabine the wicket-gate ;

And do thou bare thy knife and follow me,

For we will in and do it—darkness like this

Is dawning of our fortunes
OLD Puay.

Wuesn Duke Hildebrod had withdrawn, Nigel’s first
impulse was an_ irresistible feeling to laugh at the sage
adviser, who would have thus connected him with age,
ugliness, and ill-temper; but his next thought was pity
for the unfortunate father and daughter, who, being the
only persons possessed of wealth in this unhappy district,
seemed like a wreck on the sea-shore of a barbarous
country, only secured from plunder for the moment by
the jealousy of the tribes among whom it had been cast.
Neither could he help being conscious that his own resi-
dence here was upon conditions equally precarious, and
that he was considered by the Alsatians in the same light
of a godsend on the Cornish coast, or a sickly but wealthy
ig through the wilds of Africa, and em-
nations of despoilers through

caravan travellir
phatically termed by the
whose regions it passes, Dummalafong, which signifies
a thing given to be devoured——a common prey to al

men.108 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

Nigel had already formed his own plan to extricate
himself, at whatsoever risk, from his perilous and degrad-
ing situation; and, in order that he might carry it into
instant execution, he only awaited the return of Lowe-
stoffe’s messenger. He expected him, however, in vain,
and could only amuse himself by looking through such
parts of his baggage as had been sent to him from his
former lodgings, in order to select a small packet of the
most necessary articles to take with him, in the event of
his quitting his lodgings secretly and suddenly, as speed
and privacy would, he foresaw, be particularly necessary,
if he meant to obtain an interview with the King, which
was the course his spirit and his interest alike determined
him to pursue.

While he was thus engaged, he found, greatly to his
satisfaction, tnat Master Lowestoffe had transmitted not
only his rapier and poniard, but a pair of pistols, which
he had used in travelling’; of a small and more con-
venient size than the large petronels, or horse pistols,
which were then in common use, as being made for wear-
ing at the girdle or in the pockets. Next to having stout
and friendly comrades, a man is chiefly emboldened by
finding himself well armed in case of need, and Nigel,
who had thought with some anxiety on the hazard of
trusting his life, if attacked, to the protection of the clumsy
weapon with which Lowestoffe had equipped him, in
order to complete his disguise, felt an emotion of con-
fidence approaching to triumph, as, drawing his own good
and well-tried rapier, he wiped it with his handkerchief,
examined its point, bent it once or twive against the
ground to prove its well-known metal, and finally re-
placed it in the scabbard, the more hastily, that he heard
a tap at the door of his chamber, and had no mind toTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 109

be found vapouring in the apartment with his swora
drawn.

It was his old host who entered, to tell him with many
eringes that the price of his apartment was to be a crown
per diem; and that, according to the custom of White-
friars, the rent was always payable per advance, although
he never scrupled to let the money lie till a week or fort-
night, or even a month, in the hands of any honourabie
guest like Master Grahame, always upon some reasonable
consideration for the use. Nigel got rid of the old dotard’s
ratrusion, by throwing down two pieces of gold, and re-
questing the accommodation of his present apartment for
eight days, adding, however, he did not think he should
tarry so long.

The miser, with a sparkling eye and a trembling hand,
clutched fast the proffered coin, and having balanced the
pieces with exquisite pleasure on the extremity of his
withered finger, began almost instantly to show that not
even the possession of gold can gratify for more than an
instant the very heart that is most eager in the pursuit of
it. First, the pieces might be light—with hasty hand he
drew a small pair of scales from his bosom and weighed
them, first together, then separately, and smiled with glee
as he saw them attain the due depression in the balance
—a circumstance which might add to his profits, if it were
true, as was currently reported, that little of the gold
coinage was current in Alsatia in a perfect state, and
that none ever left the Sanctuary in that condition.

Another fear then occurred _to trouble the old miser’s
pleasure. He had been just able to comprehend that
Nigel intended to leave the Friars sooner than the arrival
of the term for which he had deposited the rent. This
might imply an expectation of refunding, which, as 4{1\) WAVERLEY NOVELS.

Scotch wag said, of all species of funding, jumped least
with the old gentleman’s humour. He was beginning te
enter a hypothetical caveat on this subject, and to quote
several reasons why no part of the money once consigned
as room-rent, could be repaid back on any pretence, with-
out great hardship. to the landlord, when Nigel, growing
impatient, told him that the money was his absolutely,
and without any intention on his part of resuming any of

 

all he asked in return was the liberty of enjoying in
jrivate the apartment he had paid for. Old T Trapbois,
who had still at his tongue’s end much of the smooth
language, by which, in his time, he had hastened the ruin
of many a young spendthrift, began to launch out upon
the noble and generous disposition of his new cuest, until
Nigel, growing impatient, took the old gentleman. by the
hand, and gently, yet irresistibly, leading him to the door
of his chamber, put him out, but with such a decent and
moderate exertion of his superior strength, as to render
the action in no shape indecorous, and faste ning the door,
began to do that for his pistols which he had done for his
favourite sword, examining with care the flints and locks,
and reviewing the state of his small provision of ammuni-
tion.

In this operation he was a second time interrupted by
a knocking at his door

 

he called upon the person to
enter, having no doubt that it was Lowestoffe’s mes-
senger at length arrived. It was, however, the ungracious
daughter of old Trapbois, who, muttering something about
her father’s mistake, laid down upon the table one of the
pieces of gold which Nigel had just given to him, ; saying,
that what she retained was the full rent for the term he
had specified. Nigel replied, he had paid the money,
and had no desire to receive it again.Vii

 

THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL.

“Do as you will with it, then,” replied the hostess,
for there it lies, and shall he for me. If you are fool
enough to pay more, than is reason, my father shall not
be knave enough to take it.”

“But your father, mistress,” said Nigel, “your father

 

told me”

“QO, my father, my father,” said she, interrupting him,
—“my father managed these affairs while he was able—
I manage them now, and that may in the long run be as
well for both of us.”

She then looked on the table, and observed the
weapons.

“ You have arms, I see,” she said; “do you know how
to use them?”

“J should do so, mistress,” replied Nigel, “for it has
been my occupation.”

“You are a soldier, then?” she demanded.

“No farther as yet, than as every gentleman of my
country is a soldier.”

“ Ay, that is your point of honour—to cut the throats
a proper gentleman-like occupation for those

 

of the poor
who should protect them!”

“J do not deal in cutting throats, mistress,” replied
Nigel; “but I carry arms to defend myself, and my
country if it needs me.”

“Ay,” replied Martha, “it is fairly worded ; but men
say you are as prompt as others in petty brawls, where
neither your safety nor your country is in hazard ; and
that, had it not been so, you would not bave been in the

Sanctuary to-day.”
« Mistress,” returned Nigel, “1 should labour in vain

5 E > ] aa A
to make you understand that a man honour, which 1s,

Ia
d
wr should be, dearer to him than his life, may often112 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

call on and compel us to hazard our own lives, or those
of others, on what would otherwise seem trifling contin-
rencies.”

“ God’s law.says nought of that,” said the female; “]
have only read there, that thou. shalt not kills” But J
have neither time nor inclination to preach to you—you
will find enough of fighting here if you like it, and well
if it come not to seek you when you are least prepared.
Farewell for the present—the char-woman will execute
your commands for your meals.”

She left the room, just as Nigel, provoked at her as-
suming a superior tone of judgment and of censure, was
about to be so superfluous as to enter into a dispute with
an old pawnbroker’s daughter on the subject of the’ point
of honour. He smiled at himself for the folly into which
the spirit of self-vindication had so nearly hurried him.

Lord Glenvarloch then applied. to old Deborah the
char-woman, by whose intermediation he was provided
with a tolerably decent dinner; and the only embarrass-
ment which he experienced, was from the almost forcible
entry of the old dotard his landlord, who insisted upon
giving his assistance at laying the cloth. Nigel had some
difficulty to prevent him from displacing his arms and
some papers which were lying on the small table

al
which he had been sitting ;

and nothing short of a stern
and positive injunction to the contrary could compel him
fo use another board (though there were two in the room)
tor the purpose of laying the cloth.

Having at length obliged him to relinquish |
he could not help observing that tl
seemed still anxiously fixed

lS purpose,
1€ eyes of the old dotard
upon the small table on which
lay his sword and pistols; and that, amidst all the little

duties which he seemed officiously anxious to render teTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 113

his guest, he took every opportunity of lookine towards
and approaching these objects of his attention. At length,
when Trapbois thought he had completely avoided the
notice of his-cuest, Nigel, through the observation of one
of the cracked mirrors, on which channel of communica-
tion the old man had not calculated, beheld him actually
extend his hand towards the table in question. He
thought it unnecessary to use farther ceremony, but
telling his landlord in a stern voice, that he permitted no
one to touch his arms, he commanded him to leave the
apartment. The old usurer commenced a maundering
sort of apology, in which all that Nigel distinctly appre-
hended, was a frequent repetition of the word considera-
tion, and which did not seem to him to require any other
answer than a reiteration of his command to him to leave
the apartment, upon pain of worse consequences.

The ancient Hebe who acted as Lord Glenvarloch’s
cupbearer, took his part against the intrusion of the still
more antiquated Ganymede, and insisted on old Trapbois
leaving the room instantly, menacing him at the same
time with her mistress’s displeasure if he remained there
any longer. The old man seemed more under petticoat
government than any other, for the threat of the char-
woman produced greater effect upon him than the more
formidable displeasure of Nigel. He withdrew grumbling
and muttering, and Lord Glenvarloch heard him bar a
large door at the nearer end of the gallery, which served
as a division betwixt the other parts of the extensive
mansion, and the apartment occupied by his guest, which
as the reader is aware, had its access from the landing-
place at the head of the grand staircase.

Nigel accepted the careful sound of the bolts and bars
as they were severally drawn by the trembling hand of

Vou. XXVIII. 8FUE 2 iat at

= pentnea 3

ee a 6 aa

 

Borsa

     

114 WAVERLEY NOVELS,

pld Trapbois, as an omen that the senior did not mean

again to revisit him in the course of the evening, and

heartily rejoiced that he was at length to be left to unin-

terrupted solitude.

The old woman asked.if there was aught else to be

-done for his accommodation ; and, indeed, it had hitherto

seemed as if the pleasure of serving him, or mcre prop-

erly the reward which she expected, had renewed her

youth and activity.

Nigel desired to have candles, to

have a fire lighted in his apartment, and a few fagots

placed beside it, that he might feed it from time to time,

as he began to feel the chilly effects of the damp and low

situation of the house, close as it was to the Thames.

But while the old woman was absent upon his errand, he
|

began to think in what way he should pass the long soli

tary evening with which he was threatened.

His own reflections promised to N

el little amuse-

1o
a)

ment, and less applause. He had considered his own

perilous situation in every light in which it could be

viewed, and foresaw as little utility as comfort in resum-

ing the survey. To divert the current of his ideas, books

were, of course, the readiest resource; and although, like

most of us, Nigel had, in his time, sauntered through

large libraries, and even spent a long timé.there without

greatly disturbing their learned contents, he was now in

a situation where the possession of a volume, even of

very inferior merit, becomes a real treasure. The old

housewife returned shortly afterwards with favots, and

some pieces of half-burned wax-candles, the perquisites,

probably, real or usurped, of some experienced groom of
the chambers, two of which she placed in large brass
candlesticks of different shapes and patterns, and laid the

others on the table, that Nigel might renew them fromTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 115

time to time as they burnt to the socket. She heard with
interest Lord Glenvarloch’s request to have « book—-any

                 

pass away the night withal, and returned
for answer, that she knew of no other books in the house
than her young mistress’s ae she always. denominated
Mistress Martha nae s) Bible, which the owner would
not lend; and 4 Master’s eee of Witte, being the
second part e ae tic, by Robert Record, with the
Cossike Tete >and Rule of Equation; which promising
volume Nigel declined to borrow. She offered, how-
ever, to bring him some books from Duke Hildebrod—
“who sometimes, good gentleman, gave a glance at a
book when the State affairs of Alsatia left him as much
leisure.”

Nigel embraced the proposal, and his unwearied Iris
scuttled away on this second embassy. She returned in

short time with a tattered quarto volume under her
arm, and a pottle of sack in her hand; for the Duke,
judging that mere reading was dry work, had sent the
wine by way of sauce to help it down, not forgetting to
add the price to the morning’s score, which he had
already run up against. the stranger in the Sanctuary.

Nigel seized on the book, and did not refuse the wine,
thinking that a glass or two, as it really proved to be of
good quality, would be no bad interlude to his studies.,
He dismissed, with thanks and assurance of reward, the
poor old drudge who had been so zealous in his service ;
trimmed his fire and candles, and placed the easiest of the
ald arm-chairs in a convenient posture betwixt the fire
and the table at which he had dined, and which now sup-
purted the measure of sack and the lights ; and thus
accompanying his studies with such luxurious appliances

as were-in his -power,, he began to examine the onlyShe fae PMI

 

116 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

volume with which the ducal library of Alsatia had been
able to supply him.

The contents, though of a kind generally interesting,
were not well. calculated to dispel the gloom by which
he was surrounded. The book was entitled, “ God’s

?

Revenge against Murther;” not, as the bibliomanical
reader may easily conjecture, the work which Reynolds
published under that imposing name, but one of a much
earlier date, printed and sold by old Wolfe ; and which,
could a copy now be found, would sell for much more

| than its weight in gold.*

Nigel had soon enough of the doleful tales which the
hook contains, and attempted one or two other modes of
killing the evening. He looked out at window, but the
night was rainy, with gusts of wind; he tried to coax the
fire, but the fagots were green, and smoked without burn-
ing; and as he was naturally temperate, he felt his blood
somewhat heated by the canary sack which he had alreac y
drank, and had no farther inclination to that pastime. He
next attempted to compose a memorial addressed to the
King, in which he set forth his case and his grievances;
but, speedily stung with the idea that his supplication
would be treated with scorn, he flung the scroll into the
fire, and, in a sort of desperation, resumed the book
which he had laid aside.

Nigel became more interested in the volume at ihe
second than at the first attempt which he made to peruse
i. The narratives, strange and shocking as they were to
human feeling, possessed yet the interest of sorcery or of

* Only three copies are known to exist: one in the librarv at Ken
ne quhair, and two—one foxed and cropped, the other tall and in good

coudition—both in the possession of an eminent member of the Rox:
burghe Club.— Note by Caprain CLUTTERBUCK.
YTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 117

fascinatigan which rivets the attention by its awakening
horrors. Much was told of the strange and horrible acts
vf blood by which men, setting nature and humanity alike
at defiance, had, for the thirst of revenge, the lust of gold,
or the cravings of irregular ambition, broken into the
tabernacle of life. Yet more surprising and mysterious
tales were recounted of the mode in which such deeds of
blood had come to be discovered and rev enged. Animals,
irrational animals, had told -the secret, and birds of the air
had carried the matter. The elements had seemed to
earth had

ceased to support the murderer’s steps, fire to warm his

    

betray the deed which had polluted the

frozen limbs, water to refresh his parched lips, air to
felieve his gasping lungs. All, in short, bore evidence
to the homicide’s guilt. In other circumstances, the crim-
inal’s own awakened conscience pursued and brought him
to justice; and in some nar natives the grave was said to
have yawned, that the ghost of the sufferer might call for
revenge.

It was now ht late in the night, and the book was
still in Nigel’s hands, when the tapestry which hung be-
hind him flapped against the wall, and the wind produced
by its motion waved the flame of the candles by which
he was reading. Nigel started and turned round, in that
excited and irritated state of mind which arose from the
nature of his studies, especially at a period when a certain
degree of superstition was inculeated as a point of religious
faith. It was not without emotion that he saw the blood-
less countenance, meagre form, and shastly aspect of old
Trapbois, once more in the very act of extending his
withered hand towards the table which supported his
arms, Convinced by this untimely appar ition that some-
thing evil was meditated towards him, Nigel sprung up118 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

seized his sword, drew it, and, placing it at the old man’s
breast, demanded of him what he did in his apartment at
so untimely an hour. ‘Trapbois showed neither fear nor
surprise, aud only answered by some imperfect expres-
sions, intimating he would part with his life rather than
with his property; and Lord Glenvarloch, strangely
embarrassed, knew not what to think of the intruder’s
motives, and still less how to get rid of him. As he
again tried the means of intimidation, he was surprised
by a second apparition from behind the tapestry, in the
person of the daughter of Trapbois, bearing a lamp in
her hand. She also seemed to possess her father’s insen-
sibility to danger, for, coming close to Nigel, she pushed
aside impetuously his naked sword, and even attempted
to take it out of his hand. :

“ For shame,” she said, “ your sword on a man of eighty
years and more !—this the honour of a Scottish gentleman!
—give it to me to make a spindle of ! ”

“Stand back,” said Nigel; “I mean your father no
injury—but I will know what has caused him to prowl
this whole day, and even at this late hour, around my
arms.”

“ Your arms !” repeated she; “alas! young man, the
whole arms in the Tower of London are of little value to
him, in comparison of this miserable piece of gold which
I left this morning on the table of a young spendthrift, too
careless to put what belonged to him into his own purse.”

So saying, she showed the piece of gold, which, still
remaining on the table where she had left it, had been the
bait that attracted old Trapbois so frequently to the spot;
and which, even in the silence of the night, had so dwelt
on his imagination, that he had made

use of a private
passage long disused, to enter his

st Sha :
guest's apartment, InTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 119

order to possess himself of the treasure during his slum-
bers. He now exclaimed, at the highest tones of his

eracked and feeble voice—

 

“Jt is mine—it is mine!
sideration—lI will die ere I part with my property eee

“ {t is indeed his own, mistress,” said Nigel, “and I do
entreat you will restore it to the person on whom I have
bestowed it, and let me have my apartment in quiet.”

“J will account with you for it, then,” said the maiden,
reluctantly giving to her father the morsel of Mammon,
on which he darted as if his bony fingers had been the
talons of a hawk seizing its prey; and then making @
contented muttering and mumbling, like an old dog after
he has been fed, and just when he is wheeling himself
thrice round for the purpose of lying down, he followed
his daughter behind the tapestry, through a little sliding-
door, which was perceived when the hangings were drawn

 

he gave it to me for a con-

apart.
«“ This shall be properly fastened to-morrow,” said the
daughter to Nigel, speaking in such a tone that her father,
deaf, and engrossed by his acquisition, could not hear her;
“to-night I will continue to watch him closely—I wish
you good. repose.”

These few words, pronounced in a tone of more civility
ards her lodger, con-

than she had yet made use of tow
although

tained a wish which was not to be accomplished,
r departure, retired to bed.

her guest, presently after he
Nigel’s blood, occasioned

There was a slight fever in
by the various events of the evening, which put him, as
the phrase 1s, beside his rest. Perplexing and painfus
thoughts rolled on his mind like a troubled stream, and
‘the more he laboured to lull himself to slumber, the far-

ther he seemed from attaining his object. He tried allen

 

f

120 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

the resources common in such cases ; kept counting from
one to a thousand, until his head was giddy—he watched
the embers of: the wood-fire till his eyes were dazzled—
he listened to the dull moaning of the wind, the swinging
and creaking of signs which projected from the houses,
and the baying of here and there a homeless dog, till his
very ear was weary.

Suddenly, however, amid this monotony, came a sound
which startled him at once. It was a female shriek. He
Sat up in his bed to listen, then remembered he was in
Alsatia, where brawls of every sort were current among
But another scream, and another,
and another, succeeded so Close, that ]

the unruly inhabitants.

1€ was certain,
nd sounded stifled, it must
be in the same house with himself

Nigel jumped up hastily, put on a part of his clothes,
seized his sword and pistols, and ran to the door of *his
chamber. Here he plainly heard the screams redoubled,
and, as he thought, the sounds came from the usurer’s
apartment. All access to the
cluded by the intermediate <
Jord shook with

though the noise was remote a

gallery was effectually ex-
loor, which the brave young
ager, ‘but vain impatience. But. the
secret passage occurred suddenly to his recollection. He
ls room, and succeeded with some diffi-
eulty in lighting a candle, powertully agitated b
the cries repeated, yet stil
sink into silence,

hastened back to ]

y hearing
| more afraid lest they should

He rushed along the narrow and winding entrance,
guided by the noise, which now burst more wildly on his
ear; and, while he descended

a narrow staircase which
terminated the passage, |

1e heard the stifled voices of men,
encouraging, as it seemed, each other.—“« Dy her, strike

her down—silence her—beat her brains out ! ”—whileTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 121

the voice of his hostess, though now almost exhausted,
was repeating the cry of “murder,” and “help.” At the
bottom of the stairease was a small door, which gave way
before Nigel as he precipitated himself upon the scene of
action, —a cocked pistol in one hand, a candle in the
other, and his naked sword under his arm.

Two ruffians had, with great difficulty, overpowered, or,
rather, were on the point of overpowering, the daughter
of Trapbois, whose resistance appeared to have been
most desperate, for the floor was covered with fragments
of her clothes, and handfuls of her hair. It appeared
that her life was about to be the price of her defence, for
one villain had drawn a long clasp-knife, when they were
surprised by the entrance of Nigel, who, as they turned
towards him, shot the fellow with the knife dead on the
spot, and, when the other advanced to him, hurled the
candlestick at his head, and then attacked him with his
sword. It was dark, save some pale moonlight from the
window; and the ruffian, after firing a pistol without
effect, and fighting a traverse or two with his sword, lost
heart, made for the window, leaped over it, and escaped.
Nigel fired his remaining pistol after him at a venture,
and then called for light.

“There is light in the kitchen,” answered Martha
Trapbois, with more presence of mind than could have
been expected. “Stay, you know not the way; I will
fetch it myself—Oh! my father—my poor father !-—I
knew it would come to this—and all along of the accursed
gold !—They have MURDERED him |”WAVERLEY NOVELS.

CHAPTER XXV.

Death finds us ’mid our playthings—snatches us,

As a cross nurse might do a wayward child,

From all our toys and baubles. His rough eall

Unlooses all our favourite ties on earth;

And well if they are such as may be answer’d

In yonder world, where all is judged of truly.
OLD PLay.

It was a ghastly scene which opened, upon Martha
Trapbois’s return with a light. Her own hageard and
austere features were exaggerated by all the desperation
of grief, fear, and passion—but the latter was predomi-
nant. On the -floor lay the body of the robber, who had
expired without a groan, while his blood, flowing plenti-
fully, had crimsoned all around. Another body lay also
there, on which the unfortunate woman precipitated her-
self in agony, for it was that of her unh lappy father. In
the next moment she started up, and exclaiming—*“ There
may be life yet!” strove to raise the body. Nigel went
to her assistance, but not without a glance at the open
window ; which Martha, as acute as if undisturbed either
by passion or terror, failed not to interpret justly.

“Fear not,” she cried, “fear not; they are base cow-
ards, to whom courage is as much unknow n as mercy.
If I had had weapons, I could have defended myself
Rgainst them without assistance or protection——-Oh! my
poor father! protection comes too late for this cold and
stiff corpse.—He is dead—dead ! ”THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 123

While she spoke, they were attempting to raise the
dead body of the old miser; but it was evident, even
from the feeling of the inactive weight and rigid joints,
that life had forsaken her station. Nigel looked for a
wound, but saw none. The daughter of the deceased,
with more presence of mind than a daughter could at the
time have been supposed capable of exerting, discovered
a sort of scarf, which had

 

the instrument of his murder
been drawn so tight round his throat, as to stifle his eries
for assistance in the first instance, and afterwards to ex-
tinguish life.

She undid the fatal noose; and, laying the old man’s
body in the arms of Lord Glenvarloch, she ran for water,
for spirits, for essences, in the vain hope that iife might
be only suspended. That hope proved indeed vain. She
chafed his temples, raised his head, loosened his night-
gown, (for it seemed as if he had arisen from bed upon
hearing the entrance of the villains,) and, finally, opened,
with difficulty, his fixed and closely-clenched hands, from
one of which dropped a key, from the other the very
piece of gold about which the unhappy man had been a
little before so anxious, and which, probably, in the im-
paired state of his mental faculties, he was disposed to
defend with as desperate energy as if its amount had
becn necessary to his actual existence.

“Tt is in vain—it is in vain,” said the daughter, desist-
ing from her fruitless attempts to recall the spirit which
had been effectually dislodged, for the neck had been
‘wisted by the violence of the murderers ;. “ It is in vain
T always knew it would be thus ; and

 

—he is murdered
now I witness it!”
She then snatched up the key and the piece of money,

dut it was only to dash them again on the floor, as sheFE RI TI

124 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

*

exclaimed, “ Accursed be ye both, for you are the causes
of this deed! ”

Nigel would have spoken

 

would have remir.ded her,
that measures should be instantly taken for the pursuit
of the murderer who had escaped, as well as for her
own security against his return; but she interrupted him
sharply.

“Be silent,” she said, “be silent. Think you, the
thougnts of my own heart are not enough to distract me,
and with such a sight as this before me ? I say, be
silent,” she said again, and in a yet sterner tone—“ Can
a daughter listen, and her father’s murdered corpse lying
on her knees!”

Lord Glenvarloch, however overpowered by the en-
ergy of her grief, felt not the less the embarrassment of
his own situation. He had discharged both his pistols—
the robber might return—he had proba

bly other assistants
besides the man who had fall

en, and it seemed to him,
indeed, as if he had heard a muttering beneath the win-
dows. He explained hastily to his ¢
sity of procuring ammunition.

“You are right,” she said,

66
a

ompanion the neces-

somewhat contemptuously,
nd have ventured already more than ever I expected
of man. Go, and shift for yourself,
purpose—leave me to my fate.”
Without stopping for needless
hastened to his own room t}
furnished himself with the

since that is your

expostulation, Nigel
rough the secret passage,
ammunition he sought for, and
returned with the same celerity ; wondering himself at the
Accuracy with which he achieved, in the dark, all the
neanderings of the passage which he had traversed only
bance, and that in a moment of

such violent agitation.
He found, on his return, the

unfortunate woman stand:THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 12%

ing like a statue by the body of her father, which the
had laid straight on the floor, having covered the face with
the skirt of his gown. She testified neither surprise nor
pleasure at Nigel’s return, but said to him calmly—* My
moan is made—my sorrow—all the sorrow at least that
man shall ever have noting of, is gone past; but T will
have justice, and the base villain who murdered this poor
defenceless old man, when he had not, by the course of
nature, a twelvemonth’s life in him, shaH not cumber the
earth long after him. Stranger, whom Heaven has sent
to forward the revenge reserved for this action, go to
Hildebrod’s—there they are awake all night in their
revels—bid him come hither—he is bound by his duty,
and dare not, and shall not, refuse his assistance, which
he knows well I can reward. Why do ye tarry ‘—go
instantly.”

“T would,” said Nigel, “but I am fearful of leaving

 

you alone; the villains may return, and”

“ True, most true,” answered Martha, “he may return ;
and, though I care little for his murdering me, he may
possess himself of what has most tempted him. Keep
this key and this piece of gold; they are both of impor-
tance—defend your life if assailed, and if you kill the
villain I will make you rich. I go myself to call for aid.”

Nigel would have remonstrated with her, but she had
departed, and in a moment he heard the house-door clank
behind her. For an instant he thought of following her;
but upon recollection that the distance was but short
betwixt the tavern of Hildebrod and the house of Trap-
bois, he concluded that she knew it better than he—in-
curred little danger in passing it, and that he would do
well in the meanwhile to remain on the watch as she

recommended.y
ef

126 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

It was no pleasant situation for one unused to such
scenes to remain in the apartment with two dead bodies,
recently those of living and breathing men, who had both,
within the space of less than half an hour, suffered
violent death; one of them by the hand of the assassin,
the other, whose blood still continued to flow from the
wound in his throat, and to flood all around him, by the
spectators own deed of violence, though of justice. He
vurned his face from those wretched relics of mortality
with a feeling of disgust, mingled with superstition ; and
he found, when he had done so, that the consciousness of
the presence of these ghastly objects, though unseen by
him, rendered him more uncomfortable than even when
he had his eyes fixed upon, and reflected by, the cold,
staring, lifeless eyeballs of the deceased. Fancy also
played her usual sport with him. He now thought he
heard the well-worn damask nightgown of the deceased
usurer rustle; anon, that he heard the slaughtered bravo
draw up his leg, the boot scratching the @oor as if he was
about to rise: and again he deemed he heard the footsteps
and the whisper of the returned ruffian under the window
from which he had lately escaped. To face the last and
most real danger, and to parry the terrors which the other
class of feelings were like to impress upon him, Nigel
went to the window, and was much cheered to observe
the light of several torches illuminating the

street, and
followed, as the murmur of voices denoted, by

a number
of persons armed, it would seem, with firelocks and h
berds, and attendant on Hildel
tic office of duke, but in th
of bailiff of the liberty

al-
rod, who (not in his fantas-
at which he really possessed,
and sanctuary of Whitefriars)
was on his way to inquire into the crime and its circum
Blances.THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 127

It was a strange and melancholy contrast to see these
debauchees, disturbed in the very depth of their midnight
revel, on their arrival at such a scene at this. They
stared on each other, and on the bloody work before them,
with lack-lustre eyes; staggered with uncertain steps over
boards slippery with blood; their noisy ae VOICces
sunk into stammering whispers ; and with spiri ts quelled
by what they saw, while their brains were sail ‘sfupenee
by the liquor ach they had drunk, they seemed like
men walking in their sleep

Old Hildebrod was an exception to the general condi-
tion. That seasoned cask, however full, was at all times
capable of motion, when there occ ‘curred a motive sufhi-
ciently strong to set him a-rolling. He seemed much
shocked at what he beheld, and his proceedings, in conse-
quence, had more in them of regularity and propriety,
than he might have been supposed capable of exhibitmg
upon any oc ‘asion whatever. The daughter was first
examined, and stated, with wonderful accuracy and dis-
tinctness, the manner in which she had been alarmed
with a noise of struggling and violence in her father’s
apartment, and that the more readily, because she was

watching him on account of some alarm concerning his
bent On her entrance, she had seen her father sinking
under the strength of two men, upon whom she rushed with
all the fury she was ‘apable of. As their faces were
blackened, and ach figures disguised, she could not pre-
tend, in the hurry of a moment so dreadfully agitating, to
distinguish either of them as persons whom she had seen
before. She remembered little more except the firing of
shots, until she found herself alone with. her guest, and
saw that the ruffians had escaped.

Lord Gienvarloch told his story as we have given it te128 . WAVERLEY NOVELS.

the reader. The direct evidence thus received, Hildebrod
examined the premises. He found that the villains had
made their entrance by the window out of which the
survivor had made his escape; yet it seemed sinoular that

oO

they should have done so, as it was secured with strong
iron bars, which old Trapbois was in the habit of shutting
with his own hand at niehtfall. He minuted down, with

oOo

great accuracy, the state of every thing in the apartment,
and examined carefully the features of the slain robber.
He was dressed like a seaman of the lowest order, but
his face was known to none present. Hildebrod next
sent for an Alsatian surgeon, whose vices, undoing what
his skill might have done for him, had consigned him to
the wretched practice of this place.. He made him ex-
amine the dead bodies, and make a proper declaration of
the manner in which the sufferers seemed to have come
by their end. The circumstance of the sash did not
escape the learned judge, and, having listened to all that
could be heard or conjectured on the subject, and collected
all particulars of evidence which appeared to bear on the
bloody transaction, he commanded the door of the apart-
ment to be locked until next morning; and carrying the
unfortunate daughter of the murdered man into the
kitchen, where there was no one in presence but Lord
Glenvarloch, he asked her gravely, whether she suspected
ho one in particular of having committed the deed.

“Do you suspect no one?” answered Martha, lookin
fixedly on him,

“ Perhaps I may, mistress ; but it is my part to ask
questions, yours to answer them. That’s the rule of the
game.”

“Then I suspect him who wore yonder sash. Do not
you Know whom I mean ?”THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 129

“Why, if you call on me for honours, I must needs
pay I have seen Captain Peppercull have one of such a
fashion, and he was not a man to change his suits often.”

“Send out, then,” said Martha, “and have him appre-
hended.”

“Tf it is he, he will be far by this time; but I will
communicate with the higher powers,’ answered the
judge.

“You would have him escape,” resumed she, fixing her
eyes on him sternly.

“ By cock and pie,” replied Hildebrod, “did it depend
on me, the murdering cut-throat should hang as high as
ever Haman did—but let me take my time. He has
friends among us, that you wot well; and all that should

assist me, are as drunk as fiddlers.”

 

“JT will have revenge—I will have it,” repeated she;
“and take heed you trifle not with me.”

“Trifle! I would sooner trifle with a she-bear the
minute after they had baited her. I tell you, mistress,
be but patient, and we will have him. I know all his
haunts, and he cannot forbear them long; and I will have
trap-doors open for him. You cannot want justice, mis-
tress, for you have the means to get its

“They who help me in my revenge,” said Martha,
« shall share those means.”

“ Enough said,” replied Hildebrod ; “ and now I weuld
have you go to my house, and get something hot—you
will be but dreary here by yourself.”

“J will send for the old char-woman,” replied Martha,
“and we have the stranger gentleman, besides.”

“Umph, umph—the stranger gentleman !” said Hilde-
brod to Nigel, whom he drew a little apart. © I fancy the
gaptain has made the stranger gentlemai’s fortune whew

WOL.. XXVIII: 9130 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

he was making a bold dash for his own. JI can tell your
honour—I must not say lordship—that I think my having
chanced to give the greasy buff-and-iron scoundrel some
hint of what I recommended to you to-day, has put him
on this rough game. The better for you—you will get
the cash without the father-in-law.— You will keep condi-
tions, I trust?”

“T wish you had said nothing to any one of a scheme so
absurd,” said Nigel.

“ Absurd !—Why, think you she will not have thee ?.
Take her with the tear in her eye, man—take her with
the tear in her eye. Let me hear from you to-morrow.

 

Good-night, good-night—a nod is as good asa wink. I
must to my business of sealing and locking up. By the
way, this horrid work has put all out of my head—Here
is a fellow from Mr. Lowestoffe has been asking to see
you. As he said his business was express, the Senate
only made him drink a couple of flagons, and he was just
coming to beat up your quarters when this breeze blew
up. Ahey, friend! there is Master Nigel Grahame.”

A young man, dressed in a green plush jerkin, with a
badge on the sleeve, and having the appearance of a
waterman, approached and took Nigel aside, while Duke
Hildebrod went from place to place to exercise his
authority, and to see the windows fastened, and the
doors of the apartment locked up. The news communi-
cated by Lowestoffe’s messenger were not the most
pleasant. They were intimated in a courteous whisper
to Nigel, to the following effect:—That Master Iowe-
stoffe prayed him to consult his safety by instantly leav-
ing Whitefriars, for that a warrant from the Lerd Chief:
dustice had been issued out for apprehending him, and
would be put in force to-morrow, by the assistance of aTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. LS:

party of musketeers, a force which the Alsatians neither
would nor dared to resist.

« And so, squire,” said the ee emissary, “my
wherry is to wait you at the Temple Stairs yonder, at
five this morning, and, . you would give the blood-hounds
the slip, why, you may.’

“Why did not Master Lowestoffe write to me?” said
Nigel.

“ Alas! the good gentleman lies up in lavender for it
himself, and has*as little to do with pen and ink as if he
were a parson.”

“Did he send any token to me?” said Nigel.

“Token ?—ay, igh, an I have
not forgot it,” said the fellow; then, giving a hoist to the
waistband of his breeches, he said,—“ Ay, I have it—yon
were to believe me, because your name was written with
an O, for Grahame. Ay, that was it, IT think.— Well,

shall we meet in two hours, when tide turns, and go down

 

                             

the river like a twelve-oared barge?”

“ Where is the King just now, knowest thou?” an-
swered Lord Glenvarloch.

“The King? why, he went down to Gr eenwich yester-
day by water, like a noble sovereign as he is, who will

always float where he can. He was to have hunted this

week, but that purpose is broken, they say ; and the
Prince, and the Duke, and all of them at Greenwich, are
as merry as minnows.”

Sewell,” ee Nigel, “I will be ready to go at five;

g ee ay, fhe eee the fellow, and left the house,
mixing himself with the disorderly attendants of Duke
Wildebrod, who were now retiring. ‘That potentate en-
‘reated Nigel to make fast the doors behind him, and,132 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

pointing to the female who sat by the expiring fire with
her limbs outstretched, like one whom the hand of Death
bad already arrested, he whispered, “ Mind your hits, and
mind your bargain, or I will cut your bowstring for you
hefore you can draw it.”

Feeling deeply the ineffable brutality which could
recommend the prosecuting such views over a wretch in
such a condition, Lord Glenvarloch yet commanded his
temper so far as to receive the advice in silence, and
attend to the former part of it, by barring the door care-
fully behind Duke Hildebrod and his suite, with the tacit
hope that he should never again see or hear of them.
He then returned to the kitchen, in which the unhappy
woman remained, her hands still clenched, her eyes fixed,
and her limbs extended like those of a person in a trance.
Much moved by her situation, and with the prospect
which lay before her, he endeavoured to awaken her to
existence by every means in his power, and at length
apparently succeeded in dispelling her stupor, and attract-
ing her attention. He then explained to her that he was
in the act of leaving Whitefriars in a few hours—that
his future destination was uncertain, but that he desired
anxiously to know whether he could contribute to her
protection by apprising any friend of her situation, or
otherwise. With some difficulty she seemed to compre-
hend his meaning, and thanked him with her usual short
ungracious manner. “He might mean well,” she said,
“but he ought to know that the miserable had no
friends.”

Nigel said, “He would not willingly be importunate,
»ut, as he was about to leave the Friars”
terrupted him—

“You are about to leave the Friars? I will go with
you.”

 

She in-THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 133

“You go with me!” exclaimed Lord Glenvarloch.

“Yes,” she said, “I will persuade my father to leave
this murdering den.” But, as she spoke, the more per-
fect recollection of what had passed crowded on her mind.
She hid her face in her hands, and burst out into a dread-
ful fit of sobs, moans, and lamentations, which terminated
in hysterics, violent in proportion to the uncommon
strength of her body and mind.

Lord Glenvarloch, shocked, confused, and imexpe-
rienced, was about to leave the house in quest of medi-
eal, or at least female assistance; but the patient, when
the paroxysm had somewhat spent its force, held him fast
by the sleeve with one hand, covering her face with the
other, while a copious flood of tears came to relieve the
emotions of grief by which she had been so violently
agitated.

“Do not leave me,” she said—do not leave me, and
call no one. I have never been in this way before, and
would not now,” she said, sitting upright, and wiping her
eyes with her apron,—* would not now—but that—but
that he loved me, if he loved nothing else that was human
—To die so, and by such hands!”

And again the unhappy woman gave way to a paroxysin
of sorrow, mingling her tears with sobbing, wailing, and
all the abandonment of female grief, when at its utmost
height. At length, she eradually recovered the austerity
of her natural composure, and maintained it as if by a
forcible exertion of resolution, repelling, as she spoke, the
repeated returns of the hysterical affection, by such an
effort as that by which epileptic patients are known to
suspend the recurrence of their fits. Yet her mind, how-
ever resolved, could not so absolutely overcome the affec-
tion of her nerves, but that she was agitated by strongLot. > WAVERLEY NOVELS

fits of trembling, which, for a minute or two at a time,
shook her whole frame in a manner frightful to witness.
Nigel forgot his own situation, and, indeed, every thing
else, in the interest inspired by the unhappy woman
before him—an interest which affected a proud spirit the
moze deeply, that she herself, with corresponding high-
ness of mind, seemed determined to owe as little as pos-
sible either to the humanity or the pity of others.

“Tam not wont to be in this way,” she said—“ but—
but—Nature will have power over the frail beings it has
made. Over you, sir, I have some right; for, without
you, I had not survived this awful night. I wish your
aid had been either earlier or later—but you have saved
my life, and you are bound to assist in making it endur-
able to me.”

 

“If you will show me how it is possible,” answered
Nigel.

“You are going hence, you say, instantly—carry me
with you,” said the unh lappy woman. “ By my own
efforts, I shall never escape from this wilderness of guilt
and misery.”

“ Alas! what can I do for you?” r plied Nigel. “My
own way, and I must not deviate from it, leads me, in all
probability, toa dungeon. I might, indeed, transport you
from hence with me, if you could atterwards bestow your-
self with any friend.”

“Friend!” she exclaimed—“I have no friend—they
have long since discarded us. A spectre arising from the
dead were more welcome than I should be at the doors
of those who have disclaimed us; and, if they were will-
ing to restore their friendship to me now, I would despise
it, because they withdrew it from him—from him ”*—
(here she underwent strong but suppressed agitation, and135

 

THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL.

then added firmly)—‘ from him who lies yonder.—I have
no friend.” Here she paused; and then suddenly, as if
recollecting herself, added, “I have no friend, but I have
that will purchase many—I have that which will purchase
both friends and avengers.—It is well thought of ; I must
not leave it for a prey to cheats and ruffians.—Stranger,
you must return to yonder room. Pass through it boldly
to his—that is, to the sleeping apartment; push the bed-
stead aside ; beneath each of the posts is a brass plate, as
if to support the weight, but it is that upon the left, nearest
to the wall, which must serve your turn—press the corner
of the plate, and it will spring up and show a key-hole,
which this key will open. You will then lift a concealed
trap-door, and in a cavity of the floor you will discover a
small chest. Bring it hither; it shall accompany our
journey, and it will be hard if the contents cannot pur-
chase me a place of refuge.”

“ But the door communicating with the kitchen has
been locked by these people,” said Nigel.

“True, I had forgot; they had their reasons for that,
doubtless,” answered she. “ But the secret passage from
your apartment is open, and you may go that way.”

Lord Glenvarloch took the key, and, as he lighted a
lamp to show him the way, she read in his countenance
some unwillingness to the task imposed.

“You fear,” she said—“ there is no cause ; the mur-
derer and his victim are both at rest. Take courage, I
will go with you myself—you cannot know the trick of
the spring, and the chest will be too heavy for you.”

“No fear, no fear,’ answered Lord Glenvarloch,
ashamed of the construction she put upon a momentary
hesitation, arising from a dislike to look upon what is hor-
rible, often connected with those high-wrought mindsA WAVERLEY NOVELS.

which are the last to fear what is merely dangerous-——* I
will do your errand as you desire; but, for you, you must
not

“T can—I will,’ she said. “I am composed. You

 

cannot go yonder.”

Bhall see that Iam so.” She took from the table a piéce
of unfinished sewing-work, and, with steadiness and com-
posure, passed a silken. thread into the eye of a fine
needle.—“ Could I have done that,” she said, with a smile
yet more ghastly than her previous look of fixed despair,
“had not my heart and hand been both steady ?”

She then led the way rapidly up stairs to Nigel’s cham-
ber, and proceeded through the secret passage with the
same haste, as if she had feared her resolution might
have failed her ere her purpose was executed. At the
bottom of the stairs she paused a moment, before entering
the fatal apartment, then hurried through with a rapid
step to the sleeping chamber beyond, followed closely by
Lord Glenyarloch, whose reluctance to approach the
scene of butchery was altogether lost in the anxiety
which he felt on account of the survivor of the tragedy.

Her first action was to pull aside the curtains of her
father’s bed. The bed-clothes were thrown aside in con-
fusion, doubtless in the action of his startine from sleep

©

to oppose the entrance of the villains into the next apart-
ment. The hard mattress scarcely showed the slight
pressure where the emaciated body of the old miser had
been deposited. His daughter sank beside the bed,
clasped her hands, and prayed to Heaven, in a short and
affecting mannér, for support in her affliction, and for
vengeance on the villains who had made her fatherless.
A low-muttered and still more brief petition, recom-
mended to Heaven the soul of the sufferer, and invoked
pardon for his sins, in virtue of the great Christian atone-
ment.THE FORTUNES OF NIGUL. ta?

This duty of piety performed, she signed to Nigel to
aid her; and, having pushed aside the heavy bedstead,
they saw the brass plate which Martha had described.
She pressed the spring, and, at once, the plate starting up
showed the key-hole, and a large iron ring used in lifting
the trap-door, which, when raised, displayed the strong-
box, or small chest, she had mentioned, and which proved
indeed so very weighty, that it might perhaps have been
scarcely possible for Nigel, though a very strong man, to
have raised it without assistance.

Having replaced every thing as they had found it,
Nigel, with such help as his companion was able to afford,
assumed his load, and made a shift to carry it into the
next apartment, where lay the miserable owner, insensible
to sounds and circumstances, which, if any thing could
have broken his long last slumber, would certainly have
done so.

His unfortunate daughter went up to his body, and had
even the courage to remove the sheet which had been de-
cently disposed over it. She put her hand on the heart,
but there was nd throb—held a feather to the lips, but
there was no motion—then kissed with deep reverence
the starting veins of the pale forehead, and then the
emaciated hand.

“JT would you could hear me,” she said,—* Father! I
would you could hear me swear, that, if I now save what
you most valued on earth, it is only to assist me in obtam-
ing vengeance for your death!”

She replaced the covering, and, without a tear, a sigh,
or an additional word of any kind, renewed her etflorts,
until they conveyed the strong-box betwixt them inte
Lord Glenvarloch’s sleeping apartment. “ It must pass,”
she said, “as part of your baggage. I will be in readiness
so soon as the waterman calls.”138 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

She retired ; and Lord Glenvarloch, who saw the hour
a | of their departure approach, tore down a part of the old
1) hanging to make a covering, which he corded upon the
| trunk, lest the peculiarity of its shape, and the care with
which it was banded and counter-banded with bars of
steel, might afford suspicions respecting the treasure
which it contained. Having taken this measure of pre-
caution, he changed the rascally disguise, which he had
assumed on entering Whitefriars, into a suit becoming his
quality, and then, unable to sleep, though exhausted with
the events of the night, he threw himself on his bed to
await the summons of the waterman.THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 159

CHAPTER XXVI.

Give us good voyage, gentle stream—we stun not
Thy sober ear with sounds of revelry ;
Wake not the slumbering echoes of thy banks
With voice of flute and horn—we do but seek
On the broad pathway of thy swelling bosom
To glide in silent safety.

THE DouBLE BRIDAL.

Gai, or rather yellow light, was beginning to twinkle
through the fogs of Whitefriars, when a low tap at, the
door of the unhappy miser announced to Lord Glenvar-
loch the summons of the boatman. He found at the door
the man whom he had seen the night before, with a com-
panion.

“ Come, come, master, let us get afloat,” said one of
them, in a rough impressive whisper, “time and tide wait
for no man.”

“ They shall not wait for me,” said Lord Glenvarloch ;
“but I have some things to carry with me.”

“ Ay, ay—no. man will take a pair of oars now, Jack,
unless he means to load the wherry like a six-horse
waggon. When they don’t want to shift the whole kitt,
they take a skuller, and be d—d to them.—Come, come,
where be your rattle-traps os

One of the men was soon sufliciently loaded, in his
own estimation at least, with Lord Glenvarloch’s mail
and its accompaniments, with which burden he began toSS pase

140 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

trudge towards the Temple Stairs. His comrade, who
seemed the principal, began to handle the trunk which
contained the miser’s treasure, but pitched it down again
In an instant, declaring, with a creat oath, that it was as
reasonable to expect a man to carry Paul’s on his back.
Lhe daughter of Trapbois, who had by this time joined
them, muffied up in a long dark hood and mantle, ex-
claimed to Lord Glenvarloch—*“ Let them leave it if they
will—let them leave it all; let us but escape from this
horrible place.”

We have mentioned somewhere, that Nigel was a very
athletic young man, and, impelled by a strong feeling otf
compassion and indignation, he showed his bodily strength
singularly on this occasion, by seizing on the ponderous
strong-box, and, by means of the rope he had cast around
it, throwing it on his shoulders, and marching resolutely
forward under a weight, which would have sunk to the
earth three young gallants, at the least, of our degenerate
day. The waterman followed him in amazement, calling
out, “ Why, master, “master, you might as well gie me
other end on’t!” and anon offered his assistance to sup-
port it in some degree behind, which after the first minute
or two Nigel was fain to accept. His strength was almost
exhausted when he reached the wherry, which was lying
at the Temple Stairs according to appointment; and,
when he pitched the trunk into it, the weight sank the
bow of the boat so low in the water as well-nigh to
verset it.

“We shall have as hard a fare of it,” said the water-
man to his companion, “as if we were ferrying over an
honest bankrupt with all his secreted goods—Ho, ho!
good woman, what are you stepping in for ?—our gun-
wale lies deep encugh in the water without live lumber
to boot.”

aTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 14]

“This person comes with me,” said Lord Glenvarloch ;
*she is for the present under my protection.”

“Come, come, master,” rejoined the fellow, “that is
out of my commission. You must not-double my freight
pn me—she may go by the land
her face will protect her from Berwick to the Land’s

End.”

-% You will not except at my doubling the loading, if I

 

and, as for protection,

double the fare?” said Nigel, determined on no account
to relinquish the protection of this unhappy woman, for
which he had already devised some sort of plan, likely
now to be baffled by the characteristic rudeness of the
Thames watermen.

“ Ay, by G—, but I will except though,” said the fellow
with the green plush jacket; “I will overload my wherry
neither for love nor money—I love my boat as well as my
wife, and a thought better.”

‘Nay, nay, comrade,” said his mate, “that is speaking
no true water language. For double fare we are bound
to row a witch in her eggshell if she bid us; and so pull
away, Jack, and let us have no more prating.”

They got into the stream-way accordingly, and, although
heavily laden, began to move down the river with reasor-
able speed.

‘The lighter vessels which passed, overtook, or crossed

them in their course, failed not to assail them with ‘he
boisterous raillery, which was then called water-wit; for
which the extreme plainness of Mistress Martha’s fea-
tures, contrasted with the youth, handsome figure, and
ocd looks of Nigel, furnished the principal topics ; while
\he circumstance of the boat being somewhat overloaded,
did not escape their notice. They wer e hailed succes-

sively as a grocer’s wife upon a party of pleasure with142 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

her eldest apprentice—as an old woman carrying her
and as a young strapping Jrish-

 

grandson to school
man, conveying an ancient maiden to Dr. Rigmarole’s at
Redriffe, who buckles beggars for a tester and a dram
cf Geneva. All this abuse was retorted in a similar
strain of humour by Green-jacket and his companion,
who maintained the war of wit with the same alacrity
with which they were assailed.

Meanwhile, Lord Glenvarloch asked his desolate com-
panion if she had thought on any place where she could
remain in safety with her property. -She confessed in
more detail than formerly, that her father’s character had
left her no friends; and that, from the time he had be-
taken himself to Whitefriars, to escape certain legal con-
sequences of his eager pursuit of gain, she had lived a
life of total seclusion; not associating with the society
which the place afforded, and, by her residence there, as
well as her father’s parsimony, effectually cut off from all
other company. What she now wished, was, in the first
place, to obtain the shelter of a decent lodging, and the
countenance of honest people, however low in life, until
she should obtain legal advice as to the mode of obtaining
Justice on her father’s murderer. She had no hesitation
to charge the guilt upon Colepepper, (commonly called
Peppercull,) whom she knew to be as capable of any act
of treacherous cruelty, as he was cowardly, where actual
manhood was required. He had been strongly suspected
of two robberies before, one of which was coupled with
an atrocious murder. He had, she intimated; made pre-
tensions to her hand as the easiest and safest way of
obtaining possession of her father’s wealth; and, on her
refusing his addresses, if they could be termed so, in the
most positive terms, he had thrown out such obseure hintsTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 143

pf vengeance, as, joined with some imperfect assaults upon
the house, had kept her in frequent alarm, both on her
father’s account and her own.

Nigel, but that his feeling of respectful delicacy to the
unfortunate woman forbade him to do so, could here have
communicated a circumstance corroborative of her sus-
picions, which had already occurred to his own mind.
He recollected the hint that old Hildebrod threw forth on
the preceding night, that some communication betwixt
himself and Colepeppér had hastened the catastrophe.
As this communication related to the plan which Hilde-
brod had been pleased to form, of promoting a marriage
betwixt Nigel himself and the rich heiress of Trapbois,
the fear of losing an opportunity not to be regained, to-
gether with the mean malignity of a low-bred ruffian,
disappointed in a favourite scheme, was most likely to
instigate the bravo to the deed of violence which had
been committed. The reflection that his own name was
in some degree implicated with the causes of this horrid
tragedy, doubled Lord Glenvarloch’s anxiety in behalf
of the victim whom he had rescued, while at the same
time he formed the tacit resolution, that, so soon as his
own affairs were put upon some footing, he would con-
tribute all in his power towards the investigation of this
bloody affair.

fter ascertaining from his companion that she could
form no better plan of her own, he recommended to her
to take up her lodging for the time, at the house of his
oid landlord, Christie the ship-chandler, at Paul's Wharf,
describing the decency and honesty of that worthy couple,
and expressing his hopes that they would receive her into
their own house, or recommend her at least to that of

: f ces ba
yome verson for whom they would be responsible, unth144 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

phe should have time to enter upon other arrangements
for herself.

The poor woman received advice so grateful to her in
her desolate condition, with an expression of thanks, brief
.ndeed, but deeper than any thing had yet extracted from
che austerity of her natural disposition.

Lord Glenvarloch then proceeded to inform Martha,
that certain reasons, connected with his personal safety,
called him immediately to Greenwich, and, therefore, it
would not be in his power to accompany her to Christie’s
house, which he would otherwise have done with pleasure;
but, tearing a leaf from his tablet, he wrote on it a few
lines, addressed to his landlord, as a man of honesty and
humanity, in which he described the bearer as a person
who stood in singular necessity of temporary protection
and good advice, for which her circumstances enabled her
to make ample acknowledgment. He therefore requested
John Christie, as his old and good friend, to afford her
the shelter of his roof for a short time; or, if that might
not be consistent with his convenience, at least to direct
her to a proper lodging—and, finally, he imposed on him
the additional, and somewhat more difficult commission,
to recommend her to the counsel and services of an
honest, at least a reputable and skilful attorney, for the
transacting some law business of importance. This note
he subscribed with his real name, and, delivering it to his
protégée, who received it with another deeply uttered “ J
thank you,” which spoke the sterling feelings of her orati-
tude better than a thousand combined phrases, he com-
manded the watermen to pull in for Paul’s Wharf, whicb
they were now approaching.

“We have not time,” said Green-jacket ; “we cannot
be stopping every instant.”THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 145

But, upon Nigel insisting upon his commands being
obeyed, and adding, that it was for the purpose of putting -
the lady ashore, the waterman declared he would rather
have her room than her company, and put the wheriy
alongside of the wharf accordingly. Here two of the
porters, who ply in such places, were easily induced to
undertake the charge of the ponderous strong box, and at
the same time to guide the owner to the well-known man-
sion of John Christie, with whom all who lived in that
neighbourhood were perfectly acquainted.

The boat, much lightened of its load, went down the
Thames at a rate increased in proportion. But we must
forbear to pursue her in her voyage for a few minutes,
since we have previously to mention the issue of Lord
Glenvarloch’s recommendation.

Mistress Martha Trapbois reached the shop in perfect
safety, and was about to enter it, when a sickening sense
of the uncertainty of her situation, and of the singularly
painful task of telling her story, came over her so strongly,
that she paused a moment at the very threshold of her
proposed place of refuge, to think in what manner she
could best second the recommendation of the friend whom
Providence had raised up to her. Had she possessed
that knowledge of the world, from which her habits of
life had completely excluded her, she might have known
that the large sum of money which she brought along
with her, might, judiciously managed, have been a pass-
port to her into the mansions of nobles, and the palaces
of princes. But, however conscious of its general power,
which assumes so many forms and complexions, she was
o inexperienced as to be most unnecessarily afraid that
the means by which the wealth had been acquired, might
VOL, XXVUI. 10146 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

exclude its inheretrix from shelter even in the house of

an humble tradesman.

While she thus delayed, a more reasonable cause for
hesitation arose, in a considerable noise and altercation
within the house, which grew louder and louder as the
disputants issued forth upon the street or lane before the
door.

‘The first who entered upon the scene was a tall, raw-
boned, hard-favoured man, who stalked out of the shop
hastily, with a gait like that of a Spaniard in a passion,
who, disdaining to add speed to his locomotion by run-
ning, only condescends, in the utmost extremity of his
angry haste, to add length to his stride. He faced about
so soon as he was out of the house, upon his pursuer, a
decent-looking, elderly, plain tradesman—no less_ than
John Christie himself, the owner of the shop and tene-
ment, by whom he seemed to be followed, and who was
in a state of agitation more than is usually expressed
by such a person.

“Tl hear no more on’t,” said the personage who first

 

appeared on the scene.— Sir, I will hear no more on it.
Besides being a most false and impudent figment, as I
can testify—it is Scandaalum Magnaatum, sir—Scan-
daalum Magnaatum,’ he reiterated with a broad accen-
tuation of the first vowel, well known in the Colleges of
Edinburgh and Glasgow, which we can only express in
print by doubling the said first of letters and of vowels,
and which would have cheered the cockles of the reign-
ing monarch had he been within hearing,

 

as he was a
severer stickler for what he deemed the genuine pro-
nunciation of the Roman tongue, than for any of the

Co

royal prerogatives, for which he was at times disposed tc
insist so strenuously in his speeches to Parliament.THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 147

“TI care not an ounce of rotten- cheese,” said John
Christie in reply, “what you call it—but it is TRUE; and
I am a free Englishman, and have right to speak the
truth in my own concerns; and your master is little
better than a villain, and you no more than a swaggering
coxcomb, whose head I will presently break, as I have
known it well broken before on lighter occasion.”

And, so saying, he flourished the paring-shovel which
usually made clean the steps of his little shop, and which
he had caught up as the readiest weapon of working his
foeman damage, and advanced therewith upon him. The
cautious Scot (for such our readers must have already
pronounced him, from his language and pedantry) drew
back as the enraged ship-chandler approached, but in a
surly manner, and bearing his hand on his sword-hilt
rather in the act of one who was losing habitual forbear-
ance and caution of deportment, than as alarmed by the
attack of an antagonist inferior to himself in youth,
streneth, and weapons.

“ Bide back,” he said, “ Maister Christie—I say bide
back, and consult your safety, man. T have evited strik-
ing you in your ain house under muckle provocation,
because I am ignorant how the laws here may pronounce
respecting burglary and hame-sucken, and such matters ;
and, besides, I would not willingly hurt ye, man, een op
the causeway, that is free to us baith, because I mind your
kindness of lang syne, and partly consider ye as a poor
Jeceived creature. But deil d—n me, sir, and I am not
wont to swear, but if you touch my Scotch shouther with
that shule of yours, I will make six inches of my Andrew
Kerrara deevilish intimate with your guts, neighbour.’

And therewithal, though still retreating from the
yrandished shovel, he made one-third of the basket-hilted

9= «< = 2 Wiest ues ad
ny ee? a pobirn FER TCT ee ree sf oe eee eS ee aia aniate esl
[PNR RRNA ne IO MECN Sa: aaa e a <a esis Se gem :

 

148 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

broadsword, which he wore, visible from the sheath.
The wrath of John Christie was abated, either by his
natural temperance of disposition, or perhaps in part by
the glimmer of cold steel, which flashed on him from his
adversary’s last action.

“YT would do well to cry clubs on thee, and have thee

]
'
A

ducked at the wharf,” he said, grounding his shovel, how-
ever, at the same time, “for a paltry swaggerer, that
would draw thy bit of iron there on an honest citizen
before his own door; but get thee gone, and reckon on a
salt eel for thy supper, if thou shouldst ever come near
my house again. I wish it had been at the bottom of
Thames when it first gave the use of its roof to smooth-
taced, oily-tongued, double-minded Scots thieves!”

“Tt’s an ill bird that fouls its own nest,” replied his
adversary, not perhaps the less bold that he saw matters
were taking the turn of a pacific debate; “and a pity
itis that a kindly Scot should ever have married in for-
eign parts, and given life to a purse-proud, pudding-
headed, fat-gutted, lean-brained Southron, e’en such as
you, Maister Christie. But fare ye weel—fare ye weel,
for ever and a day; and, if you quarrel wi’ a Scot again,
man, say as mickle ill o’ himsell as you like, but say nane
of his patron or of his countrymen, or it will scarce be
your flat cap that will keep your lang lugs from the sharp
abridgment of a Highland whinger, man.”

“And if you continue your insolence te me before my

>

own door, were it but two minutes longer,” retorted John
Christie, “JI will call the constable, and make your Scot-
tish ankles acquainted with an English pair of stocks.”
So saying, he turned to retire into his shop with some
show of victory; for his enemy, whatever might be his

muate valour, manifested no desire to drive matters teTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 149

extremity—conscious, perhaps, that whatever advantage
he might gain in single combat with John Christie, would
be more than overbalanced by incurring an affair with
the constituted authorities of Old England, not at that
time apt to be particularly fayourable to their new fellow-
subjects, in the various successive broils which were then
constantly taking place between the individuals of two
proud nations, who still retained a stronger sense of their
national animosity during centuries, than of their late union
for afew years under-the government of the same prince.

Mrs. Martha Trapbois.had dwelt too long in Alsatia,
to be either surprised or terrified at the altercation she
had witnessed. Indeed, she only wondered that the de-
bate did not end in some of those acts of violence by
which they were usually terminated in the Sanctuary.
As the disputants separated from. each other, she, who
had no idea that the cause of the quarrel was more
deeply rooted than in the daily scenes of the same nature
which she had heard of or witnessed, did not hesitate to
stop Master Christie in his return. to his shop, and pre-
sent to him the letter which Lord Glenvarloch had given
to her. Had she been better acquainted with life and its
business, she would certainly have waited for a more
temperate moment; and she had reason to repent of her
precipitation, when, without saying a single word, or
taking the trouble to gather more of the information con-
tained in the letter than was expressed in the subscrip-
tion, the incensed ship-chandler threw it down on the
ground, trampled it in high disdain, and, without address-
ing a single word to the bearer, except, indeed, something
much more like a hearty curse than was perfectly con-
sistent with his own grave appearance, he retired into his
shop, and shut the hatch-doora

 

PRES Da 1S at i

ieee et

LE ETE roa

 

ee

150 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

It was with the most inexpressible anguish that the
desolate, friendless, and unhappy female, thus beheld hex
sole hope of succour, countenance, and protection, vanish
at once, without being able to conceive a reason ; for, to
do her justice, the idea that her friend, whom she knew
by the name of Nigel Grahame, had imposed on her—a
solution which might readily have occurred to many in
her situation—never once entered her mind. Although
it was not her temper easily to bend her mind to en-
treaty, she could not help exclaiming, after the ireful and
retreating ship-chandler,—* Good Master, hear me but a
moment! for mercy’s sake, for honesty’s sake !”

“ Mercy and honesty from him, mistress!” said the
Scot, who, though he essayed not to interrupt the retreat
of his antagonist, still kept stout possession of the field of
action, “ye might as weel expect brandy from bean-
stalks, or milk from a crag of blue whunstane. The man
is mad, horn mad, to boot.”

“I must have mistaken the person to whom the letter
was addressed, then;” and, as she spoke, Mistress Martha
Trapbois was in the act of stooping to lift the paper which
had been so uncourteously received. Her companion,

‘with natural civility, anticipated her purpose; but, what

glance
at it as he was about to hand it to her, and his eye having
eaught the subscription, he said, with surprise, “ Glenvar-
loch—Nigel Olifaunt of Glenvarloch? Do you know the
Lord Glenvarloch, mistress ? ”

“I know not of whom you speak,” said Mrs. Martha,
peevishly. “T had that paper from one Master Nice]
Gram.” :

was not quite so much in etiquette, he took a sly

“ Nigel Grahame !—umph.—Oh, ay, very true—I had
. Da eeS : :
lorgot,” said the Scotsman. “A tall, well-set young man,THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 151

about my height; bright blue eyes like a hawk’s; a
pleasant speech, something leaning to the kindly north-
country accentuation, but not much in respect of his
having been resident abroad?”

“ All this is true—and what of it all?” said the
daughter of the miser.

 

« Hair of my complexion ?”

“ Yours is red,” replied she.

“JT pray you, peace,” said the Scotsman. “ I was going
to say—of my complexion, but with a deeper shade of the
chestnut. Weel, mistress, if I have guessed the man
aright he is one with whom I am, and have been, inti-
mate and familiar,—nay, I may truly say I have done
him much service in my time, and may live to do him
more. I had indeed a sincere good-will for him, and I
doubt he has been much at a loss since we parted; but
the fault is not mine. Wherefore, as this letter will not
avail you with him to whom it is directed, you may be-
lieve that Heaven hath sent it to me, who have a special
reyard for the writer—1 have, besides, as much mercy
and honesty within me as man can weel make his bread
with, and am willing to aid any distressed creature, that
is my friend’s friend, with my counsel, and otherwise, so
that I am not put to much charges, being in astrange
country, like a poor lamb that has wandered from its ain
native hirsel, and leaves a tait of its woo’ in every d—d
Southron bramble that comes across it.” While he spoke
thus, he read the contents of the letter, without waiting
for permission, and then continued,—“ And so this is all
that you are wanting, my dove? nothing more than safe
and honourable lodging, and sustenance, upon your owD

sharges? ”Serre VET SE oe * im re

102 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

‘‘ Nothing more,” said she. “If you are a man and a
Christian, you will help me to what I need so much.”
“A man I am,” replied the formal Caledonian, “e’en
Bic as ye see me; and a Christian I may call myself,
though unworthy, and though I have heard little pure
doctrine since I came hither—a’ polluted with men’s
evices-—ahem! Weel, and if ye be an honest woman,”
(here he peeped under her mufiler,) “as an honest woman
ye seem likely to be—though, let me tell you, they are a
kind of cattle not so rife in the streets of this city as I
would desire them—lI was almost strangled with my own
band by twa rampallians, wha wanted yestre@n nae
farther gane, to harle me into a change-house—however,
if ye be a decent honest woman,” (here he took another
peep at features certainly bearing no beauty which could
infer suspicion,) “as decent and honest ye seem to be,
why, I will advise you to a decent house, where you will
get douce, quiet entertainment, on reasonable terms, and
the occasional benefit of my own counsel and direction—
that is, from time to time, as my other avocations may
permit.”

“May I venture to accept of such an offer from a
stranger?” said Martha, with natural hesitation,

“ Troth, I see nothing to hinder you, mistress,” replied
the bonny Scot ; “ye can but see the place, and do after
as ye think best. Besides, we are nae such strangers,
neither; for I know your friend, and you, it’s like, know
mine, whilk knowledge, on either hand, is a medium of
communication between us, even as the middle of the
string connecteth its twa ends or extremities, But I will
enlarge on this farther as we pass along, gin ye list to bid
your twa lazy loons of porters there lift up your little kistTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 135

between them, whilk ae true Scotsman might carry under
his arm. Let me tell you, mistress, ye will soon make a

toom pock-end of it in Lon’on, if you hire twa knaves to
do the work of ane.”

So saying, he led the way, followed by Mistress Matha
Trapbois, whose singular destiny, though it had heaped
her with wealth, had left her, for the moment, no wiser
eounsellor, or more distinguished protector, than honest
Richie Moniplies, a discarded serving-man.WAVERLEY NOVELS.

CHAPTER XXVII.

This way lie safety and a sure retreat;

Yonder lie danger, shame, and punishment.

Most welcome danger then-—Nay, let me say,
Though spoke with swelling heart—welcome e’en shi
And welcome punishment—for, call me guilty,

I do but pay the tax that’s due to justice ;

And call me guiltless, then that punishment

Is shame to those alone who do inflict it.

THE TRIBUNAL.

WE left Lord Glenvarloch, to whose fortunes our story
chiefly attaches itself, gliding swiftly down the Thames.
He was not, as the reader may have observed, very
affable in his disposition, or apt to enter into conversation
with those into whose company he was casually thrown.
This was, indeed, an error in his conduct, arising less
from pride, though of that feeling we do not pretend to
exculpate him, than from a sort of bashful reluctance to
mix in the conversation of those with whom he was not
familiar. It is a fault only to be cured by experience
and knowledge of the world, which soon teaches every
sensible and acute person the important lesson, that
amusement, and, what is of more consequence, that infor-
mation and increase of knowledge, are to be derived frem
the conversution of every individual whatsoever, with
whom he is thrown into.a natural train of communication.
For ourselves, we can assure the reader—and perhaps,
if we have ever been able to afford him amusement, it igTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 153

owing in a great degree to this cause—that we never
found ourselves in company with the stupidest of all pos-
sible companions in a postchaise, or with the most arrant
eumber-corner that ever occupied a place in the mail-
coach, without finding, that, in the course of our conyversa-
tion with him, we had some ideas suggested to us, either
grave or gay, or some information communicated in the
course of our journey, which we should have reeretted
not to have learned, and which we should be sorry to
have immediately forgotten. But Nigel was somewhat
‘mmured within the Bastile of his rank, as some philos-
ppher (Tom Paine, we think) has happily enough ex-
pressed that sort of shyness, which men of dignified situa-
tions are apt to be beset with, rather from not exactly
knowing how far, or with whom they ought to be familiar,
than from any real touch of aristocratic pride. Besides,
the immediate pressure of our adventurer’s own affairs
was such as exclusively to engross his attention.

He sat, therefore, wrapt in his cloak, in the stern of the
boat, with his mind entirely bent upon the probable issue
of the interview with his Sovereign, which it was his
purpose to seek; for which abstraction of mind he may
be fully justified, although perhaps, by, questioning the
watermen who were transporting him down the river, he
might have discovered matters of high concernment to him.

At any rate, Nigel remained silent till the wherry ap-
proached the town of Greenwich, when he commanded
the men to put in for the nearest landing-place, as it was
his purpose to go ashore there, and dismiss them from
farther attendance.

“That is not possible,” said the fellow with the green
jacket, who, as we have already said, seemed to take on
himself the charge of pilotage. “ We must go,” he con156 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

 

tinued, “to Gravesend, where a Scottish vessel, which
dropt down the river last tide for the very purpose, lies
with her anchor-a-peak, waiting to carry you to your own
dear northern country. Your hammock is slung, and all
is ready for you, and you talk of going ashore at Green-
wich, as seriously as if such a thing were possible!”

“ I see no impossibility,” said Nigel, “in your I; nding
me where I desire to be landed ; but very little possibil-
ity of your carrying me any where I am not desirous of
going.”

“Why, whether do you manage the wherry, or we,
master?” asked Green-jacket, in a tone betwixt jest and
arnest ; “J take it she will go the way we row her.”

“Ay,” retorted Nigel, “but I take it you will row her
on the course I direct you, otherwise your chance of pay-
ment is but a poor one.”

“Suppose we are content to risk that,” said the un-
daunted waterman, “I wish to know how you, who talk
so big—I mean no offence, master, but you do talk big—
would help yourself in such a case ?”

“ Simply thus,” answered Lord Glenvarloch—* You
saw me, an hour since, bring down to the bo
that neither of you could lift,
destination of our voyage, the

at a trunk

If we are to contest the
Same strength which tossed
ill suffice to fling you out of
it; wherefore, before we begin the scuffle, I pray you to
remember, that, whither I would go, there I will oblige
you to carry me.”

“Gramercy for your kindness,”
“and now mark me in return, My

that chest into the wherry, w

said Green-jacket ;
comrade and I are
as George-a-Green,
can pass but for one; and two, you will allow

» are more
than a match for one. You mistake your reckoning, my
friend.”

two men—and you, were you as stoutTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 157

4 It is you who mistake,” answered Nigel, who begaa
te grow warm; “it is I who am. three to two, sirrah—I
carry two men’s lives at my girdle.”

So saying, he opened his cloak and showed the twa
pistols which he had disposed at his girdle. Green-
jacket was unmoved at the display. .

“I have got,’ said he, “a pair of barkers that will
maich yours,” and he showed that he also was armed with
pistols; “so you may begin as soon as ye list.”

“Then,” said Lord Glenvarloch, drawing forth and
cocking a pistol, “the sooner the better. Take notice, I
hold you asa ruffian, who have declared you will put
force on my person; and that I will shoot you through
the head if you do not instantly put me ashore at Green-
wich.”

The other waterman, alarmed at Nigel’s gesture, lay
upon his oar; but Green-jacket replied coolly —* Look
you, master, I should not care a tester to venture a life
with you on this matter; but the truth is, I am employed
to do you good, and not to do you harm.”

“ By whom are you employed?” said the Lord Glen-
varloch ; “ or who dare concern themselves in me, or my
affairs, without my authority?”

“ As to that,” answered the waterman, in the same tone
of indifference, “I shall not show my commission. For
myself, I care not, as I said, whether you land at Green-
wich to get yourself hanged, or go down to get aboard
the Royal Thistle, to make your escape to your own
eountry ; you will be equally out of my reach either way.
But it is fair to put the choice before you.”

“My choice is made,” said Nigel. “I have told you
thrice already it is my pleasure to be landed at Green:

wich.”wv age = meena i

Ne

ies cama SMR

158 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

“White it on a piece of paper,” said the waterman,
“that such is your positive will; I must have something
to show to my employers, that the transgression of their
erders lies with yourself, not with me.”

“I choose to hold this trinket in my hand for the pres-
ent,” said Nigel, showing his pistol, “ and will write you
(he acquittance when I go ashore.”

“YT would not go ashore with you for a hundred pieces,”
said the waterman. “Tl luck has ever attended you, ex-
cept in small gaming; do me fair justice, and give me the
testumony I desire. If you are afraid of foul play while
you write it, you may hold my pistols if you will.” He
offered the weapons to N igel accordingly, who, while they
were under his control, and all possibility of his being
taken at advantage was excluded, no longer hesitated to
give the waterman an acknowledgment, in the following
terms :—

“Jack in the Green, with his mate, belonging to the
wherry called the Jolly Raven, have done their duty
faithfully by me, landing me at Greenwich by my express
command ; and being themselves willing and desirous to
tarry me on board the Royal Thistle, presently lying at
Gravesend.” — Having finished _ this acknowledgement,
which he signed with the letters N. 0. G. as indicating
his name and title, he again requested to know of the
waterman, to whom he delivered it, the name of his em-
ployers.

“Sir,” replied Jack in the Green, “I have respected
your secret, do not you seek to pry into mine.
you no good to know for whom I am taking this present
trouble ; and, to be brief, you shall not know it—and, if
you will fight in the quarrel, as you
sooner we begin the better.

It would do

said even now, the
‘Only this you may be cock-THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 159

pure of, that we designed you no harm, and that, if you
fall into any, it will be of your own wilful seeking” As
he spoke, they approached the landing-place, where Nige”
instantly jumped ashore. The waterman placed his small
mail-trunk on the stairs, observing that there were plenty
of spare hands about, te carry it where he would.

“We part friends, I hope, my lads,” said the young
nobleman, offering at the same time a piece of money
more than double the usual fare, to the boatmen.

“We part as we met,” answered Green-jacket; “and,
for your money, I am paid sufficiently with this bit of
paper. Only, if you owe me any love for the cast I have
given you, J pray you not to dive so deep into the pockets
of the next apprentice that you find fool enough to play the
cavalier.—And you, you greedy swine,” said he to his
companion, who still had a longing eye fixed on the
money which Nigel continued to offer, “ push off, or, if I
take a stretcher in hand, I’ll break the knave’s pate of
thee.” The fellow pushed off, as he was commanded, but
still could not help muttering, “ This was entirely out of
watermen’s rules.”

Glenvarloch, though without the devotion of the “ in-
jured Thales »” of the moralist, to the memory of that
great princess, had now attained

“ The*hallow’d soil which gave Eliza birth,”

whose halls were now less respectably occupied by her
successor. It was not, as has been well shown by ¢ late
author, that James was void either of parts or of good
intentions ; and his predecessor was at least as arbitrary
in effect as he was in theory. But while Elizabeth pos-
gessed a sternness of masculine sense and determination

which rendered even her weaknesses, some of which wereL60 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

in themselves sufficiently ridiculous, in a certain degree
respectable, James, on the other hand, was so utterly de-
void of “firm resolve,” so well called by the Scottish bard,

“The stalk of carle-hemp in man,’

that even his virtues and his good meaning became laugh
able, from the whimsical uncertainty of his conduct; se
that the wisest things he ever said, and the best actions
he ever did, were often touched with a strain of the ludj-
crous and fidgety character of the man. Accordingly,
though at different periods of his reign, he contrived to
acquire with his people a certain degree of temporary
popularity, it never long outlived the occasion which
produced it ; so true it is, that the mass of mankind will
respect a monarch stained with actual guilt, more than one
whose foibles render him only ridiculous.

To return from this digression, Lord Glenvarloch
soon received, as Green-jacket had assured him, the offer
of an idle bargeman to transport his baggage where he
listed; but that where was a question of momentary doubt.
At length, recollecting the necessity that his hair and
beard should be properly arranged before he attempted
to enter the royal presence, and desirous, at the same
time, of obtaining some information of the motions of the
Sovereign and of the Court, he desired to be cuided to the
next barber’s shop, which we have already mentioned as
the place where news of every kind circled and centred.
He was speedily shown the way to such an emporium of
intelligence, and soon found he was likely to hear all he
desired to know, and much more, while his head was
subjected to the art of a nimble tonsor, the glibness of
whose tongue kept pace with the nimbleness of his fin
gers, while he ran on, without stint or stop, in the follove
mg excursive manner :—~THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 161

 

“'The court here, master ? much tothe
advantage of trade—good custom stirring. His Majesty
loves Greenwich—hunts every morning in the Park—all
decent persons admitted that have the entries of the Palace
—no rabble—frightened the King’s horse with their hal-

aster

        

 

looing, the uncombed slaves.—Yes, sir, the beard more
peaked? Yes, master, so it is worn. I know the last

cut-——dress several of the courtiers—one valet-of-the-

 

chamber, two pages of the body, the clerk of the kitchen,
three running footmen, two dog-boys, and an honourable
Scottish knight, Sir Munko Malgrowler.”

“ Malagrowther, I suppose?” said Nigel, thrusting in
his conjectural emendation, with infinite difficulty, betwixt
two clauses of the barber’s text.

“Yes, sir—Malcrowder, sir, as you say, sir—hard
names the Scots have, sir, for an English mouth. Sir
Munko is a handsome person, sir—perhaps you know
hi

his leg, and the length of his chin. Sir, it takes me one

                       

3 fingers, and the lameness of

minute, twelve seconds, more time to trim that chin of
his, than any chin that I know in the town of Greenwich,
sir. But he is a very comely gentleman, for all that;
and a

 

 

and a pleasant—a very pleasant gentleman, sir
good-humoured, saving that he is so deaf he can never
hear good of any one, and so wise, that he can- never
believe it; but he is a very good- natured gentleman for
all that, except when one speaks too low, or when a hair
turns awry.—Did I graze you, sir? We shall put it to
rights in a moment, with one drop of sty ptic—my st yptic,
or rather my wife’s, sir—She makes the water herselt.
One drop of the styptic, sir, and a bit of black taffeta
patch, just big enough to be the saddle to a flea, sir—
Yes, sir, rather improves than otherwise. The Prince

WOU. XXVIII. 1says, he loved “no vart of a swine.”

162 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

had a patch the other day, and so had the Duke; and, if
you will believe me, there are seventeen yards three
quarters of black taffeta already cut into patches for the
courtiers.”

“But Sir Mungo Malagrowther?” again interjected
Nigel, with difficulty.

“Ay, ay, sir—Sir Munko, as you say; a pleasant,
good-humoured gentleman as ever—To be spoken with,
did you say? Oh ay, easily to be spoken withal, that is,
as easily as his infirmity will permit. He will presently,
unless some one hath asked him forth to breakfast, be
taking his bone of broiled beef at my neighbour Ned
KGlderkin’s yonder, removed from over the way. Ned
keeps an eating-house, sir, famous for pork-griskins ; but
sir Munko cannot abide pork, no more than the King’s
most Sacred Majesty,* nor my Lord Duke of Lennox,
nor Lord Dalgarno,—nay, I am sure, sir, if I touched
you this time, it was your fault, not mine. ut a single
drop of the styptic, another little patch that would make
a doublet for a flea, just under the left moustache ; it will
become you when you smile, sir, as well as a dimple ; and
if you would salute your fair mistress—but I beg pardon,

 

   

you are a grave gentleman, very grave to be so young.—
Hope I have given no offence; it is my duty to entertain
customers—my duty, sir, and my pleasure—Sir Munke
Malcrowther ?—yes, sir, I dare say he is at this moment
in Ned’s eating-house, for few folks ask him out, now
Lord Huntinglen is gone to London. You will get

 

* The Scots, till within the last generation, disliked swine’s flesh as
an article of food as much as the Highlanders do at presant. I$ was
remarked as extraordinary rapac ity, when the Border depredators
condescended to make prey of the accursed race, whom the fiend

made his habitation. Ben Jonson, in drawing James's characterTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 163

touched again—yes, sir—there you shall find him’ with
his can of single ale, stirred with a sprig of rosemary, for
he never drinks strong potations, sir, unless to oblige
Lord Huntinglen—take heed, sir—or any other person
who.asks him forth to breakfast—but single beer he
always drinks at Ned’s, with his broiled bone of beef or
mutton—or, it may be, lamb at the season—but not pork,

 

though Ned is famous for his griskins. But the Scots
never eat pork—strange that! some folks think they are
a sort of Jews. There is a resemblance, sir—Do you not
think so? Then they call our most gracious Sovereign the
second Solomon, and Solomon, you know, was King of
the Jews; so the thing bears a face, you see. I believe,
sir, you will find yourself trimmed now to your content.
I will be judged by the fair mistress of your affections.
Crave pardon—no offence, I trust. Pray, consult the
glass—one touch of the crisping tongs to reduce this
strageler.—Thank your munificence, sir,—hope your cus-
tom while you stay in Greenwich. Would you have a
tune on that ghittern, to put your temper in concord for
the day ?—Twang, twang—twang, twang, dillo. Some-
thing out of tune, sir—too many hands to touch it—we
cannot keep these things like artists. Let me help you
with your cloak, sir—yes, sir—You would not play your-
self, sir, would you ?—Way to Sir Munko’s eating-house ?
—Yes, sir; but it is Ned’s eating-house, not Sir Munko’s.
—The knight, to be sure, eats there, and that makes it
his eating-house in some sense, sir—ha, ha! Yonder it
is, removed from over the way, new whitewashed posts,
and red lattice—fat man in his doublet at the door—Ned
himself, sir—worth a thousand pounds, they say—better
singeing pigs’ faces than trimming courtiers—but ours 19
‘he les: mechanical vocation.—Farewell, sir; hope you!164 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

custom.” So saying, he at length permitted Nigel ta
depart, whose ears, so long tormented with his continued
babble, tingled when it had ceased, as if a bell had been
rung close to them for the same space of time.

Upon his arrival at the eating-house, where he preo-
posed to meet with Sir Mungo Malagrowther, from
whom, in despair of better advice, he trusted to receive
some information as to the best mode of introducing him-
self into the royal presence, Lord Glenvarloch found, in
the host with whom he communed, the consequential taci-
turnity of an Englishman well to pass in the world. Ned
Kalderkin spoke as a banker writes, only touching the
needful. Being asked if Sir Mungo Malagrowther was
there? he replied, No. Being interrogated, whether he
was expected? he said, Yes. And, being required to say
when he was expected, he answered, Presently. As
Lord Glenvarloch next inquired, whether he himself
could have any breakfast? the landlord wasted not even
a syllable in reply, but, ushering him into a neat room
where there were several tables, he placed one of them
before an arm-chair, and beckoning Lord Glenvarloch to
take possession, he set before him, in a very few minutes,
a substantial repast of roast-beef, together with a foaming
tankard, to which refreshment the keen air of the river
disposed him, notwithstanding his mental embarrassments,
to do much honour.

While Nigel was thus engaged in discussing his com-
mons, but raising his head at the same time whenever he
heard the door of the apartment open, eagerly desiring
the arrival of Sir Mungo Malagrowther, (an event which
had seldom been expected by any one with so much
anxious interest,) a personage, as it seemed, of at least
equal importance with the knight, entered into the apartTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 165

ment, aud began to hold earnest colloquy with the publi-
ean, who thought proper to carry on the conference on
his side unbonneted. ‘This important gentleman’s occu-
pation might be guessed from his dress. A milk-white
jerkin, and hose of white kersey; a white apron twisted
around his body in the manner of a sash, in which, instead
of a warlike dagger, was stuck a long-bladed knife, hilted
with buck’s-horn; a white nightcap on his head, under
which his hair was neatly tucked, sufliciently portrayed
him as one of those priests of Comus whom the vulgar
call cooks; and the air with which he rated the publican
for having neglected to send some provisions to the
Palace, showed that he ministered to royalty itself.
“This will never answer,” he said, “ Master Kalderkin
—the King twice asked for sweetbreads, and fricasseed
coxcombs, which are a favourite dish of his most Sacred
Majesty, and they were not to be had, because Master
Kilderkin had not supplied them to the clerk of the
kitchen, as by bargain bound.” Here Kilderkin made
some apology, brief, according to his own nature, and
muttered in a lowly tone, after the fashion of all who find
themselves in ‘a scrape. His superior replied, in a lofty
strain of voice, “Do not tell me of the carrier and his
wain, and of the hen-coops coming from Norfolk with the

L
Ge

 

poultry; a loyal man would have sent an express
would have gone upon his stumps, like ‘Widdrington.
What if the King had lost his appetite, Master Kilder-
kin? What if his most Sacred Majesty had lost his
dinner? © Master Kilderkin, if you had but the just
sense of the dignity of our profession, which is told of by
the witty African slave, for so the King’s most excellent

° . ° ° ° y ; Ze
Majesty designates him, Publius Terentius, Zanquam 0

speculo—in patinas insprcere jubeo.”<r Sa eet PERL Ce eR

 

166 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

“You are learned, Master Linklater,” replied the Eng.
ish publican, compelling, as it were with difficulty, his
mouth to utter three or four words consecutively.

“ A poor smatterer,” said Mr. Linklater; “but it would
be a shame to us, who are his most excellent Majesty’s
countrymen, not in some sort to have cherished those arts
wherewith he is so deeply embued

 

Regis ad exemplar,
Master Kilderkin, totus componitur orbis—which is as
much as to say, as the King quotes the cook learns. In
brief, Master Kilderkin having had the luck to be bred
where humanities may be had at the matter of an English
five groats by the quarter, I, like others, have acquired—
ahem—hem !” Here, the speaker’s eye having fallen
upon Lord Glenvarloch, he suddenly stopped .in his
learned harangue, with such symptoms of embarrassment
as induced Ned Kilderkin to stretch his taciturnity so far
as not only to ask him what he ailed, but whether he
would take any thing.

“ Ail nothing,” replied the learned rival of the phileseph-
ical Syrus ; “ Nothing—and yet I do feel a little giddy.
I could taste a glass of your dame’s aqua mirabilis.”

“TI will fetch it,” said Ned, giving a nod; and his back
was no sooner turned, than the cook walked near the
table where Lord Glenyarloch was seated, and regarding
him with a look of Significance, where more was meant
than met the ear, said,—* You are a stranger in Green-
wich, sir. I advise you to take the opportunity to step
into the Park—the western wicket was ajar when I came
hither; I°think it will be locked present]

y, So you had
better make the best of your w

ay—that is, if you have
any curiosity. The venison are’ comin

g into season just
now, sir, and there is a ple

asure in looking ata hart of

grease. [| always think, when they are hounding soTHE FORTUNES OP NIGEL. 167

blithely past, what a pleasure it would be to broach their
plump haunches on a spit, and to embattle their breasts
in a noble fortification of puff-paste, with plenty of black
pepper.”

He said no more, .as Kilderkin re-entered with the
cordial, but edged off from Nigel without waiting any
reply, only repeating the same look of intelligence with
which he had accosted him.

Nothing makes men’s wits so alert as personal danger.
Nigel took the first opportunity which his host’s attention
to the yeoman of the royal kitchen permitted, to discharge
hig reckoning, and readily obtained a direction to the
wicket in question. He found it upon the latch, as he
had been taught to expect; and perceived that it ad-
mitted him to a narrow footpath, which traversed a close
and tangled thicket, designed for the cover of the does
and the young fawns. Here he conjectured it would be
proper to wait; nor had he been stationary above five
minutes, when the cook, scalded as much with heat of
motion as ever he had been at his huge fire-place, arrived
almost breathless, and with his pass-key hastily locked
the wicket behind him.

Ere Lord Glenvarloch had time to speculate upon this
action, the man approached with anxiety, and said—
“ Good lord, my Lord Glenvarloch !—why will you en-
danger yourself thus ?” 7

“ You know me then, my friend?” said Nigel.

“ Not much of that, my lord—but I know your honour’s
noble house well—My name is Laurie Linklater, my
\ord.” |

“ Linklater!” repeated Nigel, “I should recollect ”:——

“Under your lordship’s favour,” he continued, “ I was
‘prentice, my lord, to old Mungo Moniplies, the flesher atat te cs = ogee

168 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

the wanton West-ptrt of Edinburgh, which I wish I saw
agair. before I died. And your honour’s noble father
having taken Richie Moniplies into his house to wait on
your lordship, there was a sort of connexion, your lord
ship sees.”

“Ah!” said Lord Glenvarloch, “I had almost forget
your name, but not your kind purpose. You tried to put
Richie in the way of presenting a supplication to his
Majesty ? ”

“Most true, my lord,” replied the King’s cook. “I
had like to have come by mischief in the job; for Richie,
who was always wilful, ‘wadna be guided by me,’ as the
sang says. But nobody amongst these brave English
cooks can kittle up his Majesty’s most sacred palate with
our own gusty Scottish dishes. So I e’en betook myself
to my craft, and concocted a mess of friar’s chicken fo1
the soup, and a savoury hachis, that made the whole
cabal coup the crans; and, instead of disgrace, I came by
preferment. Iam one of the clerks of the kitchen now,
make me thankful—with a finger in the purveyor’s office,
and may get my whole hand in by and by.”

“Tam truly glad,” said Nigel, “to hear that you have
not suffered on my account,—still more so at your good
fortune.”

“You bear a kind heart, my lord,” said Linklater,
“and do not forget poor people; and, troth, I see not.
why they should be forgotten, since the King’s errand
nay sometimes fall in the cadger’s gate, I have followed
your lordship in the street, just to look at such a stately
shoot of the old oak-tree; and my heart jumped into
my throat, when I saw you sitting openly in the eating.
house yonder, and knew there was such danger te yeu:
pes son.”THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 169

“ What! there are warrants against me, then?” said
Nigel.

“Tt is even true, my lord; and there are those are
willing to blacken you as much as they can.-—God forgive
them, that would sacrifice an honourable house for their
own base ends!”

“Amen!” said Nigel.

“For, say your lordship may have been a little wild,
like other young gentlemen ”———

“We have little time to talk of it, my friend,” said
Nigel. “The point in question is, how am 1 to get
speech of the King?”

“The King, my lord!” said Linklater, in astonish-
ment; “why, will not that be rushing wilfully into
danger ?—scalding yourself, as I may say, with your
own ladle?”

“My good friend,” answered Nigel, “my experience
of the Court, and my knowledge of the circumstances in
which I stand, tell me, that the manliest and most direct
road is, in my case, the surest and the safest. The King
has both a head to appréhend what is just, and a heart to
do what is kind.”

“Tt is e’en true, my lord, and so we, his old servants
know,” added Linklater; “ but, woe’s me, if you knew
how many folks make it their daily and nightly purpose
to set his head against his heart, and his heart against his
head—to make him do hard things because they are
called just, and unjust things because they are represented
as kind. Woe’s me! it is with his Sacred Majesty, and
‘he favourites who work upon him, even according to the
yomely proverb that men taunt my ¢ lling with,—‘ God
sends good meat, but the devil sends cooks.’ ”

“It signifies not talking of it, my good friend,” said170 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

Nigel, “I must take my risk—my honour peremptorily
demands it. They may maim me, or beggar me, but they
shall not say I fled from my accusers. My peers shall
hear my vindication.”

“Your peers?” exclaimed the cook— Alack-a-day,
my lord, we are not in Scotland, where the nobles can
bang it out bravely, were it even with the King himself,
now and then. ‘This mess must be cooked in the Star
Chamber, and that is an oven seven times heated, my
lord ;
will not say but you may find some favour, for he likes

 

and yet, if you are determined to see the King, I

well any thing that is appealed directly to his own wis-
dom, and sometimes, in the like cases, I have known him
stick by his own opinion, which is always a fair one.
Only mind, if you will forgive me, my lord—mind to
spice high with Latin; a curn or two of Greek would not
be amiss; and, if you can bring in any thing about the
judgment of Solomon, in the original Hebrew, and
season with a merry jest or so, the dish will be the
more palatable-—Truly, I think, that, besides my skill in
art, [ owe much to the stripes of the Rector of the High
School, who imprinted on my mind that cooking scene in
the Heautontimorumenos.”

“ Leaving that aside, my friend,” said Lord Glenvar-
loch, “can you inform me which way I shall most readily
get to the sight and speech of the King?”

“To the sight of him readily enough,” said Linklater;
“he is galloping about these alleys, to see them strike the
hart, to get him an appetite for a noonine—and that
reminds me I should be in the kitchen. To the speech
of the King you will not come so easily, unless you could
either meet him alone, which rarely chances, or wait for

A
e

aim among the crowd that go to see him alight—AndTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 171

now, farewell, my lord, and God speed !—if I could da
more for you, I would offer it.”

“You have done enough, perhaps, to endanger yours
self,” said Lord Glenvarloch. “I pray you to be gone,
ani leave me to my fate.”

The honest cook lingered, but a nearer burst of the
horns apprized him that there was no time to lose ; and,
acquainting Nigel that he would leave the postern-door
on the latch to secure his retreat in that direction, he
bade God bless him, and farewell.

In the kindness of this humble countryman, flowing
partly from national partiality, partly from a sense of
long-remembered benefits, which had been scarce thought
on by those who had bestowed them, Lord Glenvarloch
thought he saw the last touch of sympathy which he was
to receive in this cold and courtly region, and felt. that
he must now be sufficient to himself, or be utterly lost.

He traversed more than one alley, guided by the sounds
of the chase, and met several of the inferior attendants
upon the King’s sport, who regarded him only as one of
the spectators who were sometimes permitted to enter the
Park by the concurrence of the officers about the Court.
Still there was no appearance of James, or any of his
principal courtiers, and Nigel began to think whether, at
the risk of incurring disgrace similar to that which had
attended the rash exploit of Richie Moniplies, he should
not repair to the Palace-gate, in order to address the
King on his return, when Fortune presented him the
opportunity of doing so, in her own way.

He was in one of those long walks by which the Park
was traversed, when he heard first a distant rustling, then
the rapid approach of hoofs shaking the firm earth on

which he stood; then a distant halloo, warned by whieh172 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

he stood up by the side of the avenue, leaving free room
for the passage of the chase. ‘The stag, reeling, covered
with foam, and blackened with sweat, his nostrils ex-
panded as he gasped for breath, made a shift to come up
as far as where Nigel stood, and, without turning to bay,
was there pulled down, by two tall greyhounds of the
breed still used by the hardy deer-stalkers of the Scottish
Highlands, but which has been long unknown in England.
One dog struck at the buck’s throat, another dashed his
sharp nose and fangs, I might almost say, into the ani-
mal’s bowels. It would have been natural for Lord
Glenvarloch, himself persecuted as if by hunters, to have
thought upon the occasion like the melancholy Jacques ;
but habit is a strange matter, and I fear that his feelings
on the occasion were rather those of the practised hunts-
man than of the moralist. He had no time, however, to
indulge them, for mark what befell.

A single horseman followed the chase, upon a steed so
thoroughly subjected to the rein, that it obeyed the touch
of the bridle as if it had been a mechanical impulse oper-
ating on the nicest piece of machinery ; so that, seated
deep in his demi-pique saddle, and so trussed up there as
to make falling almost impossible, the rider, without either
fear or hesitation, might increase or diminish the speed at
which he rode, which, even on the most animating oeca-
sions of the chase, seldom exceeded three-fourths of a
gallop, the horse keeping his haunches under him, and
never stretching forward beyond the managed pace of the
ncademy. The security with which he chose to prosecute
even this favourite, and, in the ordinary case, somewhat
dangerous amusement, as well as the rest of his equipage,
marked King James. No attendant was within sight ;

oS

indeed, it was often a nice strain of flattery to permit theTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 173

Sovereign to suppose he had outridden and distanced all
the rest of the chase.

“ Weel dune, Bash—weel dune, Battie!” he exclaimed,

 

(62

as he came up. “By the honour of a king, ye are a
credit to the Braes of Balwhither!—Haud my horse,
man,” he called out to Nigel, without stopping to see to
whom he had addressed himself—*“ Haud my naig, and

 

help me doun out o’ the saddle—deil ding your saul, sirra,
canna ye mak haste before these lazy smaiks come up ?—
haud the rein easy—dinna let him swerve—now, haud
the stirrup—that will do, man, and now we are on terra
firma.” So saying, without casting an eye on his assist-
ant, gentle King Jamie, unsheathing the short, sharp
hanger, (couteau de chasse,) which was the only thing ap-
proaching to a sword that he could willingly endure the
sight of, drew the blade with great satisfaction across the
throat of the buck, and put an end at once to its struggles
and its agonies.

Lord Glenvarloch, who knew well the silvan duty
which the occasion demanded, hung the bridle of the
King’s palfrey on the branch of a tree, and kneeling du-
teously down, turned the slaughtered deer upon its back,
and kept the qguarrée in that position, while the King, too
intent upon his sport to observe any thing else, drew his
couteau down the breast of the animal, secundum arten ;
and, having made a cross cut, S0 as to ascertain the depth
of the fat upon the chest, exclaimed, in a sort of rapture,
“Three inches of white fat on the brisket !—prime—
prime, as I am a crowned sinner—and deil ane © the
aught—aught tines

 

lazy loons in but mysell! Seven
on the antlers. By G—d, a hart of aught tines, ana te
first of the season! Bash and Battie, blessiugs on the

5 Pp x Ke a a4 Ha
jeart’s-root of ye! Buss me,;my bairns. buss me.” ‘The- cogae

 

 

174 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

dogs accordingly fawned upon him, licked him with bloody
jaws, and soon put him in such a state that it might have
seemed treason had been doing its full work upon: his
anointed body. “ Bide doun, with a mischief to ye—
bide doun, with a wanion,” cried the King, almost_over-
turned by the obstreperous- caresses of the large stag-
hounds. “ But ye are just like ither folks, gie ye an inch
and ye take an ell—And wha may ye be, friend?” he
said, now finding leisure to take a nearer view of Nigel,
and observing what in his first emotion of silvan delight
had escaped him,—“ Ye are nane of our train, man. In
the name of God, what the devil are ye?”

2

“ An unfortunate man, sire,”’,replied Nigel.

“T dare say that,” answered the King, snappishly, “ or
I wad have seen naething of you. My lieges keep a’
their happiness to themselves ; but let bowls row wrang
wl them, and I am sure to hear of it.”

“And to whom else can we carry our complaints but
to your Majesty, who is Heaven’s vicegerent over us? ”
answered Nigel.

“ Right, man, right—very weel spoken,” said the King:
“but you should leave Heaven’s vicegerent some quiet on
earth, too.”

“Tf your Majesty will look on me,” (for hitherto the
King had been so busy, first with the dogs, and then with
the mystic operation of breaking, in vulgar phrase, cutting
up the deer, that he had scarce given his assistant above
a transient glance,) “you will see whom necessity makes
bold to avail himself of an opportunity which may never
Regain occur.”

King James looked ; his blood left his cheek, though it
continued stained with that of the animal which lay at his
‘eet, he dropped the knife from his hand, cast behind himTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 175

a faltering eye, as if he either meditated flight or looked
out for assistance, and then exclaimed,—* Glenvarloch-
ides! as sure as I was christened James Stewart. Here
is a bonny spot of work, and me alone, and on foot too it
he added, bustling to get upon his horse.

“Forgive me that I interrupt you, my liege,” said
Nigel, placing himself between the King and the steed ;
‘ hear me but a moment!”

“T’ll hear ye best on horseback,” said the King. “I
eanna hear a word on foot, man, not a word ; and it is not
seemly to stand cheek-for-chowl confronting us that gate.
Bide out of our gate, sir, we charge you, on your alle-
giance.—The deil’s in them a’, what can they be doing?”

“ By the crown which you wear, my liege,” said Nigel,
“ and for which my ancestors have worthily fought, I con-
jure you to be composed, and to hear me but a moment.”

That which he asked was entirely out of the monarch’s
power to grant. ‘The timidity which he showed was not
the plain downright cowardice, which, like a natural 1m-
pulse, compels a man to flight, and which can excite little
but pity or contempt, but a much more ludicrous, as well
as more mingled sensation. ‘The poor King was fright-
ened at once and angry, desirous of securing his safety,
and at the same time ashamed to compromise his dignity 5
so that, without attending to what Lord Glenvarloch en-
deavoured to explain, he kept making at his horse, and
repeating, “ We are a free King, man—we are a free
King—we will not be controlled by a subject.—-In the
name of God, what keeps Steenie? And, praised be his
name, they are coming—Hillo, ho—here, here—Steente,
Steenie !”

The Duke of Buckingham galloped up, followed by

several courtiers and attendants of the royal chase, vndPm

RI EES OE

ERR eta
earn

oR

eee 15050

176 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

commenced with his usual familrity,—“I see Fortune
has graced our dear dad, as usual—-but what’s this ?”
“What is it? It is treason, for what I ken,” said the
King; “and a’ your wyte, Steenie. Your dear dad and
gossip might have been murdered, for what you care.”
“Murdered? Secure the villain!” exclaimed the
Duke. “By Heaven, it is Olifaunt himself!” A dozen
of the hunters dismounted at once, letting their horses run
wild through the park. Some seized roughly on Lord
Glenvarloch, who thought it folly to offer resistance, while
cthers busied themselves with the King. “Are you
wounded, my liege

 

are you wounded ?”

“ Not that I ken of,” said the King, in the paroxysm of
his apprehension, (which, by the way, might be pardoned
in one of so timorous a temper, and who, in his time, had
been exposed to so many strange attempts)—“ Not that I
ken of—but search him—search him. I am sure I saw
fire-arms under his cloak. I am sure I smelled powder
IT am dooms sure of that.”

 

Lord Glenvarloch’s cloak being stripped off, and his
pistols discovered, a shout of wonder and of execration
on the supposed criminal purpose, arose from the crowd,
now thickening every moment. Not that celebrated
pistol, which, though resting on a bosom as gallant and
as loyal as Nigel’s, spread such causeless alarm among
knights and dames at a late high solemnity—not that
very pistol caused more temporary consternation than
was so groundlessly excited by the arms which were taken
from Lord Glenvarloch’s person; and not Mhic-Allastar-
More himself, could repel with greater scorn and indig-
bation, the insinuations that they were worn for any
Binister purposes.* :

* This is the Highland patronymic of the late gallant Chief ofTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. ER

“ Away with the wretch

 

the parricide—the bloody-
minded villain!” was echoed on all hands; and the
King, who naturally enough set the same value on his
own life at which it was, or seemed to be, rated by others,
cried cut, louder than all the rest, “Ay, ay

 

away with
him. JI have had enough of him, and so has the country.
But do him no bodily harm

 

and, for God’s sake, sirs, if
ye are sure that ye have thoroughly disarmed him, put up
your swords, dirks, and skenes, for you will certainly do
each other a mischief.”

There was a speedy sheathing of weapons at the King’s
command ; for those who had hitherto been brandishing
them in loyal bravado, began thereby to call to mind the
extreme dislike which his Majesty nourished against
naked steel,-a foible which seemed to be as constitutional
as his timidity, and was usually ascribed to the brutal
murder of Rizzio having been perpetrated in his unfor-
tunate mother’s presence before he yet saw the light.

At this moment the Prince, who had been hunting in
a different part of the then extensive Park, and had re-
ceived some hasty and confused information of what was
going forward, came rapidly up, with one or two noble-
men in his train, and amongst others Lord Dalgarno. He
sprung from his horse, and asked eagerly if his father
were wounded.

“Not that I am sensible of, Baby Charles—but a wee
matter exhausted, with struggling single-handed with the

Glengarry. The allusion in the text is to an unnecessary alarm taken
by some lady, at the ceremonial of the coronation of George FV oat
the sight of the pistols which the Chief wore as a part of his Highland
dress. The circumstance produced some confusion, which was talked
of at the time. All who knew Glengarry (and the author knew him
well) were aware that his principles were of devoted loyalty to the
persou of his sovereign.

VOL. XXVIII. 12WAVERLEY NOVELS.

 

178

assassin.—Steenie, fill us a cup of wine—the leathern
bottle is hanging at our pommel.—Buss me, then, Baby
Charles,” continued the monarch, after he had taken this
cup of comfort ;* “O man, the Commonwealth and you
have had a fair escape from the heavy and bloody loss of
a dear father; for we are pater pairi@, as weel as pater
familias.— Quis desiderio sit pudor aut modus tam cart
capitis /— Woe is me, black cloth would have been dear
in England, and dry een scarée!”

* Roger Coke, in his Detection of the Court and State of England,
London, 1697, p. 70, observes of James I., ‘‘ The king was excessively
addicted to hunting, and drinking, not ordinary French and Spanish
wines, but strong Greek wines, and thought he would compound his
hunting with these wines; and to that purpose, he was attended by ¢
special officer, who was, as much as he could be, always at hand to
fill the King’s cup in hunting when he called for it. I have heard my
father say, that, hunting with the King, after the King had drank of
the wine, he also drank of it; and though he was voung and of a health-
ful disposition, it so deranged his head that it spoiled his pleasure and
disordered him for three days after. Whether it was from drinking
hese wines, or from some other cause, the King became so lazy and
so unwieldy, that he was trussed on horseback, and as he was set, so
would he ride, without stirring himself in the saddle; nay, when his
hat was set upon his head he would not take the trouble to alter it,
but it sate as it was put on.”’

The trussing, for which the demipique saddle of the day afforded
particular facility, is alluded to in the text; and the author, among
other nicknacks of antiquity, possesses a leathern flask, like those
Bottle,” with what authenticity is uncertain. Coke seems to have
exaggerated James’s taste for the bottle. Weldon says James was not

varried by sportsmen, which is labelled, “ King James’s Hunting

intemperate in his drinking; ‘“ However, in his old age, Buckingham's
jovial suppers, when he had any turn to do with him, made him some-
times overtaken, which he would the next day reme:nber, and repent
with tears. It is true he drank véry often, which was rather out of a
custom than any delight; and his drinks were of that kind for strength,
as Frontiniack, Canary, high country wine, tent wine, and Scottish
ple, that had he not had a very strong brain, he might have been daily
overtaken, though he seldom drank at any one time above four spoon-
fals, many times not above one or two.—Secret Mstory of King
James, vol. ii p. 3. Edin. 1811.THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 179

And, at the very idea of the general grief which must
nave attended his death, the good-natured monarch cried
heartily himself.

“Ts this possible?” said Charles, sternly; for his pride
sras hurt at his father’s demeanour on the one hand, while,
on the other, he felt the resentment of a son and a subject,
at the supposed attempt on the King’s life. “ Let some
one speak who has seen what happened—My Lord of
Buckingham ?”

“T cannot say, my lord,” replied the Duke, “that I saw
any actual violence offered to his Majesty, else I should
have avenged him on the spot.”

“You would have done wrong, then, in your zeal,
George,” answered the Prince; “such offenders were
better left to be dealt with by the laws. But was the
villain not struggling with his Majesty ? ”

“J cannot term it so, my lord,” said the Duke, who,
with many faults, would have disdained an untruth; “he
seemed to desire to detain his Majesty, who, on the con-
trary, seemed to wish to mount his horse ; but they have
found pistols on his person, contrary to the proclamation,
and, as it proves to be Nigel Olifaunt, of whose ungov-
erned disposition your Royal Highness has seen ‘some
samples, we seem to be justified in apprehending the
worst.”

“Nigel Olifaunt 1” caid the Prince; “can that un-
happy man so, soon haye engaged in a new trespass ?
Let me see those pistols.”

“Ye are not so unwise as to meddle with such snap-
haunches, Baby Charles?” said James—* Do not give
him them, Steenie—I command you on your allegiance.
(hey may go off of their own accord, whilk often befalls.
You will do it, then ?—Saw ever man sic wilfal bairns[80 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

as we are cumbered with !—Havena we guardsmen and
soldiers enow, but ye must unload the weapons yoursell—
you, the heir of our body and dignities, and sae mony
men around that are paid for venturing life in our
cause?”

But without regarding his father’s exclamations, Prince
Charles, with the obstinacy which characterized him in
trifles, as well as matters of consequence, persisted in un-
loading the pistols with his own hand, of the double
bullets with which each was charged. The hands of all
around were held up in astonishment at the horror of the
crime supposed to have been intended, and the escape
which was presumed so narrow.

Nigel had not yet spoken a word—he now calmly
desired to be heard.

“To what purpose?” answered the Prince coldly.
“You knew yourself accused of a heavy offence, and.
instead of rendering yourself up to justice, in terms of
the proclamation, you are here found intruding yourself
on his Majesty’s presence, and armed with unlawful
weapons.”

“May it please you, sir,’ answered Nigel, “I wore
these unhappy weapons, for my own defence; and not
very many hours since they were necessary to protect the
lives of others.”

“Doubtless, my lord,’ answered the Prince, still calm
and unmoved,— your late mode of life, and the associates
with whom you have lived, have made you familiar with
scenes and weapons of violence. But it is not to me you
are to plead your cause.”

“ear me

 

hear me, noble Prince!” said Nigel,
eagerly. “Hear me! You

 

even you yourself—may
one day ask to be heard, and in vain”

eTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 181

“ How, sir,” said the. Prince, haughtily—“ how am I ta
construe that, my lord?”

“Tf not on earth, sir,”

replied the prisoner, “ yet to
Heaven we must all pray for patient and favourable au-
dience.”

“True, my lord,’ said the Prince, bending his head
with haughty acquiescence; “nor would I now refuse
such audience to you, could it avail you. But you shall

Wy ]

suffer no wrong. We will ourselves look into your case.”

“ Ay, ay,” answered the King, “he hath made appel-
latio ad Cesarem—we will interrogate Glenvarlochides
ourselves, time and place fitting; and, in the meanwhile,
have him and his weapons away, for I am weary of the
sight of them.”

In consequence of directions hastily given, Nigel was
accordingly removed from the presence, where, however,
his words had not altogether fallen to the ground.* “ This

* I cannot here omit mentioning, that a painting of the old school is
in existence having a remarkable resemblance to the scene described
in this Chapter, although it be nevertheless true that the similarity is
in all respects casual, and that the author knew not of the existence
of the painting till it was sold, amongst others, with the following
description attached to it in a well-drawn-up catalogue :—

‘6 FREDERIGO ZUCCHERO.

“ Scene as represented in the Fortunes of Nigel, by Frederigo Zuc-

chero, the King’s painter.

“This extraordinary picture, which, independent of its pictorial
merit, has been esteemed a oreat literary curiosity, represents most
faithfully the meeting, in Greenwich Park, between King James and
Nigel Oliphaunt, as described in the Fortunes of Nigel, showing that
the author must have taken the anecdote from authenticated facts.
In the centre of the picture sits King James pn horseback, very erect
and stify. Between the King and Prince Charles, who is on the left
rf the picture, the Duke of Buckingham is represented riding a black
horse, and pointing eagerly towards the culprit, Nigel Oliphaunt, who
is standing on the right side of the picture. He grasps with his right
hand a gur or crossbow, and looks angrily towards the King, whoo Sori aad

cs

Phere area,

 

Seb

 

182 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

is a most strange matter, George,” said the Prince to the
favourite; “this gentleman hath a good countenance, a
happy presence, and much calm firmness in bis look and
speech. I cannot think he would attempt a crime so des-
perate and useless.”

“T profess neither love nor favour to the young man,”
answered Buckingham, whose high-spirited ambition bore
always an open character; “but I cannot but agree with
your Highness, that our dear gossip hath been something
hasty in apprehending personal danger from him.” *

seems somewhat confused and alarmed. Behind Nigel, his servant is
restraining two dogs which are barking fiercely. Nigel and his ser-
vant are both clothed in red, the livery of the Oliphaunt family, in
which, to this day, the town-officers of Perth are clothed, there being
an old charter, granting to the Oliphaunt family the privilege of dress-
ing the public officers of Perth in their livery. The Duke of Buck-
ingham is in all respects equal in magnificence of dress to the King or
the Prince. The only difference that is marked between him and
royalty is, that his head is uncovered. The King and the Prince wear
their hats. In Letitia Aikin’s Memoirs of the Reign of King James,
will be found: a letter from Sir Thomas Howard to Lord L. Harring-
ton, in which he recommends the latter to come to court, mentioning
that his Majesty has spoken favourably of him. He then proceeds to
give him some advice, by which he is likely to find -favour in the
King’s eyes. He tells him to weara bushy ruff, well starched; and
after various other directions as to his dress, he concludes, ‘but above
all things fail not to praise the roan jennet whereon the King dcth
daily ride.’ In this picture King James is represented on the ideuti-
cal roan jennet. In the background of the picture are seen two or
three suspicious-looking figures, as if watching the success of some
plot. ‘These may have been put in by the painter, to flatter the King,
by making it be supposed ‘that he had actually escaped, or success-
fully combated, some serious plot. The King is attended by a numer-
ous band of courtiers and attendants, all of whom seem inoving for-
ward to arrest the defaulter. The painting of this picture is extremely
good, but the drawing is very Gothic, and there is no attempt at the
keeping of perspective. The picture is very dark and obscure, which
considerably adds to the interest of the scene.”

* The. fears of James for his personal safety were often excitedYHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 1838

“ By my saul, Steenie, ye are not blate, to say so,” said
the King. “Do I not ken the smell of pouther, think
ye? Who else nosed out the fifth of November, save
pur royal selves? Cecil, and Suffolk, and all of them,
were at fault, like sae mony mongrel tikes, when I puz-
zled it out; and-trow ye that I cannot smell pouther
Why, ’sblood, man, Joannes Barclaius thought my ingine
was in some measure inspiration, and terms his history
of the plot, Series patefucti divinitus parricidi ; and
Spondanus, in like manner, saith of us, Divinitus evasit.”

“The land was happy in your Majesty’s escape,” said
the Duke of Buckingham, “and not less in the quick wit
which tracked that labyrinth of treason by so fine and
almost invisible a clew.”

“Saul, man, Steenie, ye are right! ‘There are few
youths have sic true judgment as you, respecting the
wisdom of their elders; and, as for this fause, traitorous
smaik, I doubt he is a hawk of the same nest. Saw ye not
something papistical about him? Let them look that he
bears not a crucifix, or some sic Roman trinket, about him.”

“Tt would ill become me to attempt the exculpation of
this unhappy man,” said Lord Dalgarno, “ considering

without serious grounds. On one occasion, having been induced to
visit a coal-pit on the coast of Fife, he was conducted a little way
under the sea, and brought to daylight again on a small island, or
what was such at full tide, down which a shaft had been sunk.
James, who conceived his life or liberty aimed at, when he found
himself on an islet surrounded by the sea, instead of admiring, as his
cicerone hoped, the unexpected change of scene, cried Treason with
all his might, and could not be pacified till he was rowed ashore. At
Lochmaben he took an equally causeless alarm from astill slighter cir-
eunstance. Some vendisses, a fish peculiar to the Loch, were pre-
sented to the royal table as a delicacy ; but the King, who was not
familiar with their appearance, concluded they were poisoned, and
vroke up the banquet “ with most admired disorder.”184 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

the height of his present attempt, which has made all
true men’s blood curdle in their veins. Yet, I cannot
avoid intimating, with all due submission to his Majesty’s
infallible judgment, in justice to one who showed himself
formerly only my enemy, though he now displays him-
self in much blacker colours, that this Olifaunt always
appeared to me more as a Puritan than as a Papist.”

“ Ah, Dalgarno, art thou there, man?” said the Kang.
“ And ye behoved to keep back, too, and leave us to our
own natural strength and the care of Providence, when
we were in grips with the villain! ”

“ Providence, may it please your most Gracious Maj-
esty, would not fail to aid, in such a strait, the care of
three weeping kingdoms,” said Lord Dalgarno.

“Surely, man—surely,” replied the Kine—*“but a

Oo

sight of your father, with his long whinyard, would have
been a blithe matter a short while syne; and in future
we will aid the ends of Providence in our favour, by
keeping near us two stout beef-eaters of the guard.—
And so this Olifaunt is a Puritan 2—not the less like to
be a Papist, for all that

 

for extremities meet, as the
scholiast proveth. There are, as I have proved in my
book, Puritans of papistical principles—it is just a new
tout on an auld horn.”

Here the Kine was reminded by the Prince, who
dreaded perhaps that he was going to recite the whole
Basilicon Doron, that it would be best to move towards
the Palace, and consider what was to be done for satisfy-
ing the public mind, in whom the morning’s adventure
was likely to excite much speculation. As they entered
the gate of the Palace, a female bowed and presented a
paper, which the King received, and, with a sort of groan,
thrust it into his side-pocket. The Prince expressed some

ig OT an PLETE TOIT EETYHE ¥ORTUNES OF NIGEL. 185

eariusity to know its contents. . “The valet in waiting
will tell you them,” said the King, “when I strip off my
scassock. D’ye think, Baby, that I can read all that is
thrust into my hands? See to me, man,’—(he pointed
to the pockets of his great trunk breeches, which were
stuffed with papers),—“ We are like an ass—that we
should so speak—stooping betwixt two burdens. Ay, ay,
Asinus fortis accumbens inter terminos, as the Vulgate
hath it—Ay, ay, Vidi terram quod esset optima, et sup=
posui humerum ad portandum, et factus sum tributis ser-
viens—I saw this land of England, and became an over-
burdened king thereof.”

“You are indeed well loaded, my dear dad and gossip,”
said the Duke of Buckingham, receiving the papers
which King James emptied out of his pockets.

“ Ay, ay,” continued the monarch; “take them to you
per averstonem, bairns—the one pouch stuffed with peti-
tions, other with pasquinadoes ; a fine time we have on't.
On my conscience, I believe the tale of Cadmus was hie-
roglyphical, and that the dragon’s teeth whilk he sowed
were the letters he invented. Ye are laughing, Baby
Charles ?——Mind what I say.—When I came here first
frae our ain country, where the men are as rude as the
weather, by my conscience, England was a bieldy bit; one
would have thought the King had little to do but to walk
by quiet waters, per aquam refectionis. But, I kenna how
or why, the place is sair changed—read that libel upon us
and on our regimen. The dragon’s teeth are sown, Baby
Charles; I pray God they bearna their armed harvest in
your day, if I suld not live to see it. God forbid I should,
for there will be an awful day’s kemping at the shearing
of them.”

“J shall know how to stifle the crop in the blade,—ha,186

 

WAVERLEY NOVELS.

George?” said the Prince, turning to the favourite with
a look expressive of some contempt for his father’s appre-
bensions, and full of confidence in the superior firmness
and decision of his own counsels.

While this discourse was passing, Nigel, in charge of a
pursuivant-at-arms, was pushed and dragged through the
small town, all the inhabitants of which, having been
alarmed by the report of an attack on the King’s life,
now pressed forward to see the supposed traitor. Amid
the confusion of the moment, he could desery the face of
the victualler, arrested into a stare of stolid wonder, and
that of the barber grinning betwixt horror and eager
curiosity. He thought that he also had a glimpse of his
waterman in the green jacket.

He had no time for remarks, being placed in a boat
with the pursuivant and two yeomen of the guard, and
rowed up the river as fast as the arms of six stout water-
men could pull against the tide. They passed the groves
of masts which even then astonished the stranger with
the extended commerce of London, and now approached
those low and blackened walls of curtain and bastion,
which exhibit here and there a piece of ordnance, and
here and there a solitary sentinel under arms, but have
otherwise so little of the military terrors of a citadel. A
projecting low-browed arch, which had lowered over many
an innocent, and many a guilty head, in similar circum-
stances, now spread its dark frowns over that of Nigel.*

* Traitor’s Gate, which opens from the Tower of London to the
Thames, was, as its name implies, that by which persons aceused of
state offences were conveyed to their prison. When the tide is mak-
ing, and the ancient gate is beheld from within the buildings, it used

to be a most striking part of the old fortress; but it is now much
injured in appearance, being half built up with masonry to support a

bteam-engine, or something of that sort.THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 137

The boat was put close up to the broad steps against
which the tide was lapping its lazy wave. The warder

on duty looked from the wicket, and spoke to the pur-

suivant in whispers. In afew minutes the Lieutenant of
the Tower appeared, received, and granted an acknowl-
edgment for the body of Nigel, Lord Glenvarloch.che. So RENN ESHA o> pe

Ona e TEs

CRT = ihr ot a

serra

De Ae AOI A EAS 8S
ro ae

WAVERLEY NOVELS.

CHAPTER XXVIII

¥e towers of Julius! London's lasting shame
With many a foul and midnight murder fed!

GRAY

SucH is the exclamation of Gray. Bandello, long
before him, has said something like it; and the same
sentiment must, in some shape or other, have frequently
occurred to those who, remembering the fate of other
captives in that memorable state-prison, may have had
but too much reason to anticipate their own. The dark
and low arch, which seemed, like the entrance to Dante’s
Hell, to forbid hope of redress—ihe muttered sounds of
the warders, and petty formalities observed in opening
and shutting the grated wicket—the cold and constrained
salutation of the Lieutenant of the fortress, who showed
his prisoner that distant and measured respect which
wuthority pays as a tax to decorum, all struck upon
Nigel’s heart, impressing on him the cruel consciousness
of captivity.

“YT am a prisoner,” he said, the words escaping from
iim almost unawares; “I am a prisoner,
Tower !”

and in the

The Lieutenant bowed—* And it is my duty,” he said,
“to show your lordship your chamber, where, I

1 am com-
pelled to say, my orders are to place vou .under some

vestraint. I will make it as easy as my duty permits.”THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 189

gel only bowed in return to this compliment, and

Nis
follow

el

ed the Lieutenant to the ancient buildings on the
western side of the parade, and adjoining to the chapel,
used in those days as a state-prison, but in ours as the
mess-room of the officers of the guard upon duty at the
fortress. ‘The double doors were unlocked, the prisoner
ascended a few steps, followed by the Lieutenant, and 4
warder of the higher class. They entered a large, but
irregular, low-roofed, and dark apartment, exhibiting a
very scanty proportion of furniture. The warder had
orders to light a fire, and attend to Lord Glenvarloch’s
commands in all things consistent with his duty ; and the
Lieutenant having made his reverence with the customary
compliment, that he trusted his lordship would not long
remain under his guardianship, took his leave.

Nigel would have asked some questions of the warder,
who remained to put the apartment into order, but the
man had caught the spirit of his office. He seemed not
to hear some of the prisoner’s questions, though of the
most ordinary kind, did not reply to others, and when he
did speak, it was in a short and sullen tone, which, though
not positively disrespectful, was such as at least to encour-
age no farther communication.

Nigel left him, therefore, to do his work in silence, and
proceeded to amuse himself with the melancholy task of
deciphering the names, mottoes, verses, and hieroglyphics,
with which his predecessors in captivity had covered the
walls of their prison-house. There he saw the names
of many a forgotten sufferer mingled with others which
will continue in remembrance until English history shall
perish... ‘here were the pious effusions of the devout
Catholic, poured forth on the eve of his sealing his pro-
fession at Tyburn, mingled with those of the frm Protest190 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

ant, aboat to feed the fires of Smithfield. There the
slender hand of the unfortunate Jane Gray, whose fate
was to draw tears from future generations, might be
contrasted with the bolder touch which impressed deep
on the walls the Bear and Ragged Staff, the proud
emblem of the proud Dudleys. It was like the roll of
the prophet, a record of lamentation and mourning, and
yet not unmixed with brief interjections of resignation,
and sentences expressive of the firmest resolution.*

In the sad task of examining the miseries of his prede-
eessors in captivity, Lord Glenvarloch was interrupted
by the sudden opening of the door of his prison-room.
It was the warder, who came to inform him, that, by
order of the Lieutenant of the Tower, his lordship was
to have the society and attendance of a fellow-prisoner in
his place of confinement. Nigel replied hastily, that he
wished no attendance, and would rather be left alone;
but the warder gave him to understand, with a kind of
grumbling civility, that the Lieutenant was the best judge
how his prisoners should be accommodated, and that he
would have no trouble with the boy, who was such a slip
of a thing as was scarce worth turning a key upon.—
“There, Giles,” he said, “ bring the child in.”

Another warder put the “lad before him” into the
mom, and, both withdrawing, bolt crashed and chain
clanged, as they replaced these ponderous obstacles to
freedom. The boy was clad in a grey suit of the finest
cloth, laid down with silver lace, with a buff-coloured

* These memorials of illustrious criminals, or of innocent persons
who had the fate of such, are stil] preserved, though
the course of repairing the rooms, tl
whitewashed. They are preserved
anl have most of them been engr
Antiquities of the Tower of London.

at one time, in
1ey were in some danger of being
at present with becoming respect,
aved.—See BAYLEY’s History andTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 19]

cloak of the same pattern. His cap, which was a Mon-
tero of black velvet, was pulled over his brows, and, with
the profusion of his lone ringlets, almost concealed his
face. He stood on the very spot where the warder had
quitted his collar, about two steps from the door of the
apartment, his eyes fixed on the ground, and every joint
trembling with confusion and terror. Nigel could well
have dispensed with his society, but it was not in his
nature to behold distress, whether of body or mind,
without endeavouring to relieve it.

“ Cheer up,” he said, “my pretty lad. We are to be
sompanions, it seems, for a little time—at least I trust
your confinement will be short, since you are too young
to have done aught to deserve long restraint. Come,
come—do not be discouraged. Your hand is cold and
trembles! the air is warm too—but it may be the damp
of this darksome room. Place you by the fire-—What!
weeping-ripe, my little:man? I pray you, do not be a
child. You have no beard yet, to be dishonoured by
your tears, but yet you should not cry like a girl. Think
you are only shut up for playing truant, and you can pass
a day without weeping, surely.”

The boy suffered himself to be led and seated by the
fire, but after retaining for a long time the very posture
which he assumed. in sitting down, he suddenly changed
it in order to wring his hands with an air of the bitterest
llistress, and then, spreading them before his face, wept
so plentifully, that the tears found their way in fioods
through his slender fingers.

Nigel was in some degree rendered insensible to his
own situation, by his feelings for the intense agony by
which so young and beautiful a creature seemed to be
utterly overwhelmed ; and, sitting down close beside the192 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

boy, he applied the most soothing terms which occurred
to endeavour to alleviate his distress; and with an action
which the, difference of their age rendered natural, drew
his hand kindly along the long hair of the disconsolate
child. The lad appeared so shy, as even to shrink from
this slight approach to familiarity—yet, when Lord Glen-
varloch, perceiving and allowing for his timidity, sat
down on the farther side of the fire, he appeared io be
more at his ease, and to hearken with some apparent
interest to the arguments which from time to time Nigel
used, to induce him to moderate, at least, the violence
of his grief. As the boy listened, his tea rs, though they
continued to flow freely, seemed to escape from their
source more easily, his sobs were less convulsive, and
became gradually changed into low sighs, which sue-
ceeded each other, indicating as much sorrow, perhaps,
but less alarm than his first transports had shown.

“Tell me who and what you are, my pretty boy,” said
Nigel. “Consider me, child, as a companion, who wishes
to be kind to you, would you but teach him how he can
be so.”

“Sir—my lord, I mean,” answered the boy, very
timidly, and in a voice which could scarce be heard even
across the brief distance which divided them, “ you are
very good

 

 

and I—am very unhay ppy”

A second fit of tears interrupted what else he had in-
tunded to say, and it required a renewal of Lord Glen-
varloch’s good- natured expostulations and encouragements,
to bring him once more to such composure as rendered
the lad capable of expressing himself intelligib ly. At
length, however, he was able to say— “TI am sensible of
your goodness, my lord

 

and grateful for it—but Y am a
poor unhappy creature, and, what is w orse, have myself
ynly to thank for my misfortunes.”THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 193

ye 3
We are seldom absolutely miserable, my young. ace

quaintance,” said Nigel, “without being ourselves niore
or less responsible for it—I may well say so, otherwise I
had not been here to-day—but you are very young, and
can have but little to answer for.”

“OQ sir! I wish I could say so—I have been self-
willed and obstinate

 

and rash and ungovernable—and
now—now, how dearly do I pay the price of it!”

“ Pshaw, my boy,” replied Nigel; “this must be some
childish frolic—some breaking out of bounds—some truant
trick—And yet how should any of these have brought
you to the Tower ?—There is something mysterious about
you, young man, which I must inquire into.”

“ Indeed, indeed, my lord, there is no harm about me,”
said the boy, more moved it would seem to confession by
the last words, by which he seemed considerably alarmed,
than by all the kind expostulations and arguments which
Nigel had previously used. “Iam innocent—that is, I
nave done wrong, but nothing to deserve being in this
frightful place.”

“Tell me the truth, then,” said Nigel, in a tone in

which command mingled with encouragement; “

you
have nothing to fear from me, and as little to hope, per-
haps—yet, placed as I am, I would know with whom I

speak.”

 

“With an unhappy—boy, sir—and idle and truantly
disposed, as your lordship said,” answered the lad, look-
ing up, and showing a countenance in which paleness and
blushes succeeded each other, as fear and shamefacedness
alternately had influence. “I left my father’s house
without leave, to see the King hunt in the Park at Green:
wich; there came a cry of treason, and all the gates were
shut—TI was frightened, and hid myself in a thicket, and

VOL. XXVIII. 13Ros co mete
as

SF RMN FER = eo ;

 

HZ! WAVERLEY NOVELS.

I was found by some of the rangers and examined—and
they said I gave no good account of myself—and so J
was sent hither.”

“JT am an unhappy, a most unhappy being,” said Lord
Glenvarloch, rising and walking through the apartment ;
“nothing approaches me but shares my own bad fate!
Death and imprisonment dog my steps, and involve all
who are found near me. Yet this boy’s story sounds
strangely. You say you were examined, my young
friend—Let me pray you to say whether you told your
name, amd your means of gaining admission into the Park
—if so, they surely would not have detained you!”

“OQ my lord,” said the boy, “I took care not to tell
them the name of the friend that let me in; and as to my
father—I would not he knew where I now am for all the
wealth in London !”

“But you do not expect,” said Nigel, “that they will
dismiss you, till you let them know who and what you
arer””

“What good will it do them to keep so useless a crea-
ture as myself?” said the boy; “they must let me go,
were it but out of shame.”

“Do not trust to that—tell me your name and station
—I will communicate them to the Lieutenant—he is a
man of quality and honour, and will not only be willing
to procure your liberation, but also, I have no doubt, will
intercede with your father. I am partly answerable for
such poor aid as I can afford, to get you out of this em-
barrassment, since I occasioned the alarm owing to which
you were arrested; so tell me your name, and your
father’s name.”

“My name to you? O never, never!” answered
the boy, in a tone_of deep emotion, the cause.of which

Nigel could not comprehend.THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 193

“Are you so much afraid of me, young man,” he re-
plied, “ because I am here accused and a prisoner? Con
sider, a man may be both, and deserve neither suspicion
nor restraint. Why should you distrust me? You seem
friendless, and I am myself so much in the same circum-
stances, that I cannot but pity your situation when I reflect
on my own. Be wise; I have spoken kindly to you—I
mean as kindly as I speak.”

“QO, I doubt it nat, I doubt it not, my lord,” said the
boy, “and I could tell you all—that is, almost all.”

“Tell me nothing, my young friend, excepting what
may assist me in being useful to you,” said Nigel.

“You are generous, my lord,’ said the boy; “and I
am sure—O sure, I might safely trust to your honour
—But yet—but yet—I am so sore beset—I have been
so rash, so unguarded

 

 

I can never tell of my folly.
Besides, I have already told too much to one whose heart
I thought I had moved—yet I find myself here.”

“To whom did you make this disclosure?” said Nigel.

“T dare not tell,” replied the youth.

“There is something singular about you, my young
friend,’ said Lord Glenvarloch, withdrawing with a gentle
degree of compulsion the hand with which the boy had
again covered his eyes; “do not pain yourself with think-

 

ing on your situation just at present—your pulse is high,
and your hand feverish—lay yourself on yonder pallet,
and try to compose yourself to sleep. It is the readiest
and best remedy for the fancies with which you are wor-
rying yourself.”

“T thank you for your considerate kindness, my lord,”
said the boy; “ with your leave I will remain for a little
space quiet in this chair—I am better thus than on the
souch. I can think undisturbedly on what I have done.Frees

ad cra eae

APB

+ eee

196 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

and have still to do; and if God sends slumber to a crea-
ture so exhausted, it shall be most welcome.”

So saying, the boy drew his hand from Lord Nigel’s,
and, drawing around him and partly over his face the
folds of his ample cloak, he resigned himself to sleep or
meditation, while his companion, notwithstanding the ex-
hausting scenes of this and the preceding day, continued
his pensive walk up and down the apartment.

very reader has experienced, tleat times occur, when,
far from being lords of external circumstances, man is
unable to rule even the wayward realm of his own
thoughts. It was Nigel’s natural wish to consider his
own situation coolly, and fix on the course which it be-
came him as a man of sense and courage to adopt; and
yet, in spite of himself, and notwithstanding the deep
interest of the critical state in which he was placed, it did
so happen that his fellow-prisoner’s situation occupied
more of his thoughts than did his own. There was no
accounting for this wandering of the imagination, but also
there was no striving with it. The pleading tones of one
of the sweetest voices he had ever heard, still rung in his
ear, though it seemed that sleep had now fettered the
tongue of the speaker. He drew near on tiptoe to satisfy
himself whether it were so. The folds of the cloak hid
the lower part of his face entirely ; but the bonnet, which
had fallen a little aside, permitted him to see the forehead
streaked with blue veins, the closed eyes, and the long
silken eyelashes.

“ Poor child!” said Nigel to himself, as he looked on
him, nestled up as it were in the folds of his mantle, “the
dew is yet on thy eyelashes, and thou hast fairly wept
thyself asleep. Sorrow is a rough nurse to one so young
end delicate as thou art. Peace be to thy slumbers, ITHER FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 197

will not disturb them. My own misfortunes require my
pttention, and it is to their contemplation that I must
resign myself.”

He attempted to do so, but was crossed at every turn
by conjectures which intruded themselves as before, and
which all regarded the sleeper rather than himself. He
was angry and vexed, and expostulated.with himself con-
cerning the overweening interest which he took in the
concerns of one of whom he knew nothing, saving that
the boy was forced into his company, perhaps as a spy,
by those to whose custody he was committed—but the
spell could not be broken, and the thoughts which he
struggled to dismiss, continued to haunt him.

Thus passed half an hour, or more; at the conclusion
of which, the harsh sound of the revolving bolts was
again heard, and the voice of the warder announced that
a man desired to speak with Lord Glenvarloch. “A
man to speak with me, under my present circumstances!
—Who can it be?” And John Christie, his landlord of
~Paul’s Wharf, resolved his doubts,-by entering the apart-
ment. “Welcome—most welcome, mine honest land.
lord!” said Lord Glenvarloch. “How could I have
dreamt of seeing you in my present close lodgings ?”
And at the same time, with the frankness of old kindness,
he walked up to Christie, and offered his hand; but John
started back as from the look of a basilisk.

“Keep your courtesies to yourself, my lord,” said he,
pruffly; “I have had as many of them already as may
serve me for my life.”

“Why, Master Christie,” said Nigel, “what means
\his ? I trust I have not offended you.”

« Ask me no questions, my lord,” said Christie. bluntly.
IT came not hither to wrangle

 

*T am aman of peace,198 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

with you at this place and season. Just suppose that 1
am well informed of all the obligements from your
honour’s nobleness, and then acquaint me, in as few
words as may be, where is the unhappy woman— What
have you done with her?”

“What have I done with her?” said Lord Glenvar-
loch—* Done with whom? I know not what you are
speaking of.”

“Oh, yes, my lord,” said Christie; “ play surprise as
well as you will, you must have some guess that I am
speaking of the poor fool that was my wife, till she
became your lordship’s light-o’-love.”

“Your wife! Has your wife left you? and, if she has,
do you come to ask her of me ?”

“Yes, my lord; singular as it may seem,” returned
Christie, in a tone of bitter irony, and with a sort of grin
widely discording from the discomposure of his features,
the gleam of his eye, and the froth which stood on his
lip, “I do come to make that demand of your lordship.
Doubtless, you are surprised I should take the trouble ;
but, I cannot tell, great men and little men think dif.
ferently. She has lain in my bosom, and drunk of my
cup; and, such as she is, I cannot forget that—thoueh I
will never see her aghin—she must not starve, my lord,
or do worse, to gain bread, though I reckon your lordship
may think I am robbing the public in trying to change
her courses.”

“ By my faith as a Christian, by my honour as a geutle-
man,” said Lord Glenvarloch, “ if aught amiss has chanced
with your wife, I know nothing of it. I trust in Heaven
you are as much mistaken in imputing guilt to her, as in
Bupposing me her partner in it.”

“Hie! fie! my lord,” said Christie, “why will youTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 199

make it so tough? She is but the wife of a elod-pated
old chandler, who was idiot enough to marry a wenel-
twenty years younger than himself. Your lordship can-
not have more glory by it than you have had already ;
and, as for advantage and solace, I take it Dame Nelly is
now unnecessary to your gratification. I should be sorry
to interrupt the course of your pleasure; an old wittol
should have more consideration of his condition. But,
your precious lordship being mewed up here among other
choice jewels of the kingdom, Dame Nelly cannot, I take
it, be admitted to share the hours of dalliance which ”——
Here the incensed husband stammered, broke off his tone
of irony, and proceeded, striking his staff against the
ground,—“ O that these false limbs of yours, which I
wish had been hamstrung when they first crossed my
honest threshold, were free from the fetters they have
well deserved! I would give you the odds of your youth,
and your weapon, and would bequeath my soul to the
foul fiend if I, with this piece of oak, did not make you
such an example to all ungrateful, pick-thank courtiers,
that it should be a proverb to the end of time, how John
Christie swaddled his wife’s fine leman !”

“TY understand not your insolence,” said Nigel, “but I
forgive it, because you labour under some strange delu-
sion. In so far as I can comprehend your vehement
charge, it is entirely undeserved on my part. You seem
I trust she
is innocent. For me, at least, she is as innocent as an

 

to impute to me the seduction of your wife

angel in bliss. I never thought of her—never touched
her hand or cheek, save in honourable courtesy.”

“Oh, ay—courtesy !—that is the very word. She
always praised your lordship’s honourable courtesy. Ye

have cozened me between ye, with your courtesy. Myees:

oe

aie aes

 

 

200 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

lord—my lord, you came to us no very wealthy man—
you know it. It was for no lucre of gain I took you and
your swash-buckler, your Don Diego yonder, under my
poor roof. I never cared if the little room were let or
no; I could live without it. If you could not have paid
for it, you should never have been asked. All the wharf
knows John Christie has the means and spirit to doa
kindness. When you first darkened my honest door-way,
I was as happy as a man need to be, who is no youngster,
and has the rheumatism. Nelly was the kindest and
best-humoured wench—we might have a word now and
then about a gown or a ribbon, but a kinder soul on the
whole, and a more careful, considering her years, till you
came—and what is she now !——But I will not be a fool

 

to cry, if I can help it. What she is, is not the ques-
tion, but were she is; and that I must learn, sir, of
you.”

“ How can you, when I tell you,” replied Nigel, “ that
I am as ignorant as yourself, or rather much more so?
Till this moment I never heard of any disagreement
betwixt your dame and you.”

“ That is a lie,” said John Christie, bluntly.

“How, you base villain!” said Lord Glenvarloch—
“do you presume on my situation? If it were not that I
hold you mad, and perhaps made so by some wrong
sustained, you should find my being weaponless were
no protection. J would beat your brains out against the
wall.”

“Ay, ay,” answered Christie, “bully -as ye list. Ye
have been at the ordinaries, and in Alsatia, and learned
the ruffian’s rant, I doubt not. But I repeat, you have
spoken an untruth, when you said you knew not of my

wife’s falsehood; for when you were twitted with it amon

Q
2THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 201

your gay mates, if was a common jest among you, and
your lordship took all the credit they would give you for
your gallantry and gratitude.”

There was a mixture of truth in this part of the charge,
which disconcerted Lord Glenvarloch exceedingly; for
he could not, as a man of honour, deny that Lord Dal-
garno, and others, had occasionally jested with him on
the subject of Dame Nelly, and that, though he had not
played exactly le fanfaron des vices qu'il n’avoit pas, he
had not at least. been sufficiently anxious to clear himself
of the suspicion of such a crime to men who considered it
as amerit. It was therefore with some hesitation, and in
a sort of qualifying tone, that he admitted that some idle
jests had passed “upon such a supposition, although with-
out the least foundation in truth. John Christie would
not listen to his vindication any longer. “ By your own
account,” he said, “you permitted lies to be told of you
in jest. How do I know you are sp eaking truth, now
you are serious? You thought it, I suppose, a fine thing
to wear the reputation of having dishonoured an honest
family,—who will not think that you had real grounds for
your base bravado to rest upon? I will not believe
otherwise for one, and therefore, my lord, mark what I
have to say. You are now yourself in trouble—As you
hope to come through it safely, and without loss of life
and property, tell me where this unhappy woman is.
tell me if you fear hell

 

Tell me, if you hope for Heaven
—tell me, as you would not have the curse of an utterly
ruined woman, and a broken-hearted man, attend you
through life, and bear witness against you at the Great
Day, which shall come after death. You are moved, my
lord, I see it. I cannot forget the wrong you have done

me. Icannot even promise to forgive it—but—tell me,f

" PO Oa: yeu cane a at

202 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

and you shall never see me again, or hea: more of my
reproaches.”

“Unfortunate man,” said Lord Glenvarloch, “ you
have said more, far more than enough, to move me
deeply. Were I at liberty, I would lend you my best
aid to search out him who’has wronged you, the rather
that Ido suspect my having been your lodger has been
in some degree the remote cause of bringing the spoiler
into the sheepfold.”

“Yam glad your lordship grants me so much,” said
John Christie, resuming the tone of imbittered irony with
which he had opened the singular conversation ; “I will
spare you farther reproach and remonstrance—your mind
is made up, and so is’ mine.—So, ho, warder!” The
warder entered, and John went on,—“ I want to get out,
brother. Look well to your charge—it were better that
half the wild beasts in their dens yonder were turned
loose upon Tower-Hill, than that this same smooth-faced,
civil-spoken gentleman, were again returned to honest
men’s company.”

So saying, he hastily left the apartment; and Nigel
had full leisure to lament the waywardness of his fate,
which seemed never to tire of persecuting him for crimes
of which he was innocent, and investing him with the
appearances of guilt which his mind abhorred. He could
not, however, help acknowledging to himself, that all the
pain which he might sustain from the present acecusation
of John Christie, was so far deserved, from his having
suffered himself, out of vanity, or rather an unwillingness
to encounter ridicule, to be supposed capable of a base
inhospitable crime, merely because fools called it an affair
of gallantry ; and it was no balsam to the wound, when

he recollected what Richie had told him of his havingTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 203

been ridiculed behind his back by the gallants of the ordi-
nary, for affecting the reputation of an intrigue which he
had not in reality spirit enough to have carried on. His

simulation had, in a word, placed him in the unlucky pre-

dicament of being rallied as a braggart amongst the dis-
sipated youths, with whom the reality of the amour would
have given him credit ; whilst, on the other hand, he was
branded as an inhospitable seducer by the injured hus-
band, who was obstinately persuad«d of his guilt.ee

> ete
“YER NRRRRE ER 82

204 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

CHAPTER XXIX.

How fares the man on whom good men would look
With eyes where scorn and censure comba ted,
But that kind Christian love hath taught the lesson—
That they who merit most contempt and hate,
Do most deserve our pity.

OLD PLAY,

It might have seemed natural that the visit of John
Christie should have entirely diverted Nigel’s attention
from his slumbering companion, and, for a time, such was
the immediate effect of the chain of new ideas which the
incident introduced ; yet, soon after the injured man had
departed, Lord Glenvarloch began to think it extraordi-
nary that the boy should have slept so soundly, while they
talked loudly in his vicinity. Yet he certainly did not
appear to have stirred. Was he well—was he only
feigning sleep? He went close to him to make his
observations, and perceived that he had wept, and was
still weeping, though his eyes were closed. He touched
him gently on the shoulder—the boy shrunk from hig
touch, but did not awake. He pulled him harder, and
asked him if he was sleeping.

“Do they waken folks in your country to know whether
they are asleep or no?” said the boy, in a peevish tone.

“No, my young sir,” answered Nigel ; “but-when they
weep in the manner you do in your sleep, they awaker
them to see what ails them.”THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 205

“Tt signifies little to any one what ails me,” said the
boy.

“True,” replied Lord Glenvarloch; “but you knew
before you went to sleep how little I could assist you in
your difficulties, and you seemed disposed, notwithstand-
ing, to put some confidence in me.”

“Tf I did, I have changed my mind,” said the lad.

“ And what may have occasioned this change of mind,
I trow?” said Lord Glenvarloch.—‘ Some men speak
through their sleep—perhaps you have the gift of hearing
in it?” |

“No, but the Patriarch Joseph never dreamt truer
dreams than [ do.”

“Indeed!” said Lord Glenvarloch. “ And, pray, what
dream have you had that has deprived me of your good
opinion; for that, I think, seems the moral of the mat-
ter’ 2

“You shall judge yourself,” answered the boy. “I
dreamed I was in a wild forest, where there was a cry of
hounds, and winding of horns, exactly as I heard in
Greenwich Park.”

“That was because you were in the Park this morning,
you simple child,” said Nigel.

“Stay, my lord,” said the youth. “I went on in my
dream, till at the top of a broad green alley, I saw a
noble stag which had fallen into the toils; and me-
thought I knew that he was the very stag which the whole
party were hunting, and that if the chase came up, the
dogs would tear him to pieces, or the hunters would
eut his throat; and I had pity on the gallant stag, and
though I was of a different kind from him, and though J
was somewhat afraid of him, I thought I would venture
something to free so stately a creature ; and I pulled outSPER nee nents:

TRIO eh

   
 
 
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
    
  
  
 
 
   
  
   
  
    
   
 

206 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

my knife, and just as I was beginning to cut the meshes
of the net, the animal started up in my face in the like.
ness of a tiger, much larger and fiercer than any you
may have seen in the ward of the wild beasts yonder, and
was just about to tear me limb from limb when you
awaked me.”

“ Methinks,” said Nigel, “I deserve more thanks than
U have got, for rescuing you from such a danger by waking
you. But, my pretty master, methinks all this tale of a
tiger and a stag has little to do with your change of
temper towards me.”

“I know not whether it has or no,” said the lad; “ but
I will not tell you who I am.” .

“You will keep your secret to yourself then, peevish
boy,” said Nigel, turning from him, and resuming his
walk through the room ; then stopping suddenly, he said,
—‘“ And yet you shall not escape from me without know-
ing that I penetrate your mystery.”

“My mystery !” said the youth, at once alarmed and
irritated,—“ what mean you, my lord?”

“Only that I can read your dream without the assist-
ance of a Chaldean interpreter, and my exposition is—
that oy fair companion does not wear the dress of her
sex.”

“And if I do not, my lord,” said his companion, eee
starting up, and folding her cloak tight around her, “my
dress, such as it is, covers one who will not disci He”

“Many would call that speech a fair challenge,” said
Lord Glenvarloch, looking on her fixedly ; “women do
not masquerade in men’s clothes, to make use of men’s
weapons.”

“ T have no such purpose,” said the seeming boy; “]
have other means of protection, and Baie ak ]
would first know what is yewr purpose.”THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 207

“An honourable and a most respectful one,” said Lord
Glenvarloch ; “whatever you are—whatever motive may
have brought you into this ambiguous situation, I am sen-
sible—every look, word, and action of yours makes me
sensible—that you are no proper subject of importunity,
far less of ill usage. What-circumstances can have
forced you into so doubtful a situation, I know not; but I
feel assured there is, and can be, nothing in them of pre-
meditated wrong, which should expose you to cold-blooded
insult. From me you have nothing to dread.”

“T expected nothing less from your nobleness, my
lord,’ answered the female. “ My adventure, though I
feel it was both desperate and foolish, is not so very fool-
ish, nor my yemely here so utterly unprotected, as at first

             

in this strange dress, it may appear to be. I
have safe ‘red enough, and more than enough, by the deg-
radation of having been seen in this unfeminine aitire,
and the conmments you must necessarily have made on
my conduct—but I thank God that I am so far protected,
that “I could not have been subjeeted to msult una-
venged.”

When this extraordinary explanation had proceeded
thus far, the warder appeared, to place before Lord Glen-
varloch a meal, which, for his present situation, might be
ealled comfortable, and which, if not equal to the cookery
of the celebrated Chevalier Be: anjeu, was much superior
in neatness and cleanliness to that of Alsatia. A warder
attended to do the honours of the table, and made a sign
to the disguised female to rise and assist him in his func-
tions. But Nigel declared that he knew.the youth’s
parents, interfered, and caused his comps anion to eat along
with him. She consented with a sort of embarrassment,

which rendered her pretty features yet more interestingWAVERLEY NOVELS.

 

2038

Yet she maintained with a natural grace that sort of
zood-breeding which belongs to the table; and it seemed
to Nigel, whether already prejudiced in her favour by the
extraordinary circumstances of their meeting, or whether
really judging from what was actually the fact, that he
had seldom seen a young person comport herself with
more decorous propriety, mixed with ingenuous simplte-
ity ; while the consciousness of the peculiarity of her
situation threw a singular colouring over her whole de-
meanour, which could be neither said to be formal, nor
easy, nor embarrassed, but was compounded of, and
shaded with, an interchange of all these three character-
istics. Wine was placed on the table, of which she could
not be prevailed on to taste a glass. Their conversation
was, of course, limited by the presence of the warder to
the business of the table; but Nigel had, long ere the
cloth was removed, formed the resolution, if possible, of
making himself master of this young person’s history, the

4

more especially as he now began to think that the tones
of her voice and her features were not so strange tO him
as he had originally supposed. ‘This, however, was a
conviction which he adopted slowly, and only as it dawned
upon him from particular circumstances during the course
of the repast.

At length the prison-meal was finished, and Lord
Glenvarloch began to think how he might most easily
enter upon the topic he meditated, when the warder an-
nounced a visitor.

“Soh!” said Nigel, something displeased, “I find even
& prison does not save one from importunate visitations.”

He prepared to receive his guest, however, while his
xlarmed companion flew to the large cradle-shaped chair
which had first served her as a place of refuge, drew her

oD?THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 203

elouk around her, and disposed herself as much as she
eould to avoid observation. She had scarce made her
arrangements for that purpose when the door opened, and
the worthy citizen, George Heriot, entered the prison-
chamber. :

He cast around the apartment his usual sharp, quick
glance of observation, and advancing to Nigel, said—
“ My lord, I wish I could say I was happy to see you.”

“The sight of those who are unhappy themselves,
Master Heriot, seldom produces happiness to their friends
—I, however, am glad to see you.”

He extended his hand, but Heriot bowed with much
formal complaisance, instead of accepting the courtesy,
whick in those times, when the distinction of ranks was
much guarded by etiquette and ceremony, was considered
as a distinguished favour.

‘You are displeased with me, Master Heriot,” said
Lord Glenvarloch, reddening, for he was not deceived by
the worthy citizen’s affectation of extreme reverence and
respect.

“By no means, my lord,” replied Heriot; “but I have
been in France, and have thought it as well to import,
along with other more substantial articles, a small sample
of that good-breeding which the French are so re-
nowned for.”

“Tt is not kind of you,” said Nigel, “to bestow the first
use of it on an old and obliged friend.”

Heriot only answered to this observation with a short
dry cough, and then proceeded.

“Hem! hem! I say, ahem! My lord, as my French
politeness may not carry me far, I would willingly know
whether I am to speak as a friend, since your lordship is
pleased to term me such; or whether I am, as befits my

VOL. XXVIII. 14<> Rien ndemate >
a PRN RRRRRR

ya NEE

210 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

tondition, to confine myself to the needful business which
must be treated of between us.”

“Speak as a friend by all means, Master Heriot,” said
Nigel ; “I perceive you have adopted some of the numer-
ous prejudices against me, if not all of them. Speak out,

e%

what I cannot deny I will at least confess.’

 

and frankly

>

“And I trust, my lord, redress,” said Heriot.

“So far as in my power, certainly,” answered Nigel.

“Ah! my lord,’ continued Heriot, “that is a melan-
choly, though a necessary restricticn for how lightly
may any one do an hundred times more than the degree
of evil which it may be within his power to repair to the
sufferers and to society! But we are not alone here,”
he said, stopping, and darting his shrewd eye towards the
muffled figure of the disguised maiden, whose utmost
efforts had not enabled her so to adjust her position as
altogether to escape observation. More anxious to pre-
vent. her being discovered than to keep his own affairs
private, Nigel hastily answered—

“"Tis a page of mine; you may speak freely before
him. He is of France and knows no English.”

“J am then to speak freely,” said Heriot, after a second
glance at the chair; “perhaps my words may be more
free than welcome.”

“ Go on, sir,” said Nigel, “I have told you I can bear
reproof.”

“In one word, then, my lord—why do I find you in
this place, and whelmed with charges which must blacken
a name rendered famous by ages of virtue ?”

“Simply then, you find me here,” said Nigel, “because,
to begin from my original error, I would be wiser than
my father.”

“It was a difficult task, my lord,” replied Heriot ;THER FORTUNES OF NIGEL. P11

“your father was voiced generally as the wisest and one
pf the bravest men of Scotland.”

“He commanded me,” continued Nigel, “to avoid all
gambling; and I took upon me to modify this injunction
mto regulating my play according to my skill, means, and
the course of my luck.”

“Ay, self-opinion, acting on a desire of acquisition, my
lord—you hoped to touch pitch and not to be defiled,”
answered Heriot. “Well, my lord, you need not say, for
I have heard with much regret, how far this conduct
diminished your reputation. Your next error I may
without scruple remind you of—My lord, my lord, in
whatever degree Lord Dalgarno may have failed towards
you, the son of his father should have been sacred from
your violence.”

“You speak in cold blood, Master Heriot, and I was
smarting under a thousand wrongs inflicted on me under
the mask of friendship.”

“That is, he gave your lordship bad advice, and you,”
said Heriot

 

“Was fool enough to follow his counsel,’ answered
Nigel—* But we will pass this, Master Heriot, if you
please. Old men and young men, men of the sword and
men of peaceful occupation, always have thought, always
will think, differently on such subjects.”

“T grant,” answered Heriot, “the distinction between
the old goldsmith and the young nobleman

 

still you

should have had patience for Lord Huntinglen’s sake,

and prudence for your own. Supposing your quarrel

just”
“T pray you to pass on to some other charge,

Liord Glenvarloch.

“J am not your accuser, my lord; but I trust in

 

2 ost
SalG912 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

Heaven, that your own heart has already accused you
bitterly on the inhospitable wrong which your late land-
lord has sustained at your hand.”

“Had I been guilty of what you allude to,” said Glen-
varloch,—“ had a moment of temptation hurried me away,
I had long ere now most bitterly repented it. But who-
ever may have wronged the unhappy woman, it was not
1—I never heard of her folly until within this hour.”

“Come, my lord,” said: Heriot, with some severity,
“this sounds too much like affectation. I know there is
among our modern youth a new creed respecting adultery

 

as well as homicide—I would rather hear you speak of a
revision of the Decalogue, with mitigated penalties in
favour of the privileged orders—I would rather hear you
do this, than deny a fact in which you have been known
to glory.”
“Glory !
to myself from such a cause,” said Lord Glenvarloch.

I never did, never would have taken honour

 

“TY could not prevent other idle tongues, and idle brains,
from making false inferences.”

“You would have known well enough how to stop their
mouths, my lord,” replied Heriot, “had they spoke of you
what was unpleasing to your ears, and what the truth
did not warrant.—Come, my lord, remember your prom-
ise to confess; and, indeed, to confess is, in this case, in
some slight sort to redress. I will grant you are young
——the woman handsome, and, as I myself have observed,
light-headed enough. Let me know where she is.
Her foolish husband has still some compassion for her—
will save her from infamy—perhaps, in time, receive her
back; for we are a good-natured generation we traders.
Do not, my lord, emulate those who work mischief merely
for the pleasure of doing so—it is the very devil’s worst

quality.”THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 218

“Your grave remonstrances will drive me mad,” said
Nigel. “There is a show of sense and reason in what
you say; and yet it is positively insisting on my tell-
ing the retreat of a fugitive of whom I know nothing
earthly.”

“Tt is well, my lord,” answered Heriot, ne “You
have a vight, such as it is, to keep your own secrets;
but since my discourse on these points seems so totally
unavailing, we had better proceed to business. Yet your
father’s image rises before me, and seems to plead that I
should go on.”

“Be it as you will, sir,’ said Glenvarloch; “he
who doubts my word shall have no additional security
for it.”

“ Well, my lord.—In the Sanctuary at Whitefriars—a
place of refuge so unsuitable to a young man of quality
and character—I am told a murder was committed.”

“ And you believe that I did the deed, T suppose ? ”

“ God forbid, my lord!” said Heriot. “The coroner's
inquest hath sat, and it appeared that your lordship, under
your assumed name of Grahame, behaved with the utmost
bravery.”

“No compliment, I pray you,” said Nigel; “I am
only too happy to find that I did not raise, cr am nol
believed to have murdered the old man.’

“True, my lord,” said Heriot ; “but even in this affair
there lacks explanation. Your lordship embarked this
morning in a wherry with a female, and, it is said, a
‘mmense sum of money, in specie and other ¥ oe
kut the woman has not since been heard of.”

«J parted with her at Paul’s Wharf” said Nigel,
“where she went ashore with her charge. I gave ber a
letter to that very man, John Christie.”ae
ef

a eat

 

Hane Ea.

RNR Lcentanmiaie > 2
OPE ERR ERR "aN RE 7

vr a et

214 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

“Ay, that is the waterman’s story; but John Christie
denies that he remembers any thing of the matter.”

“Tam sorry to hear this,” said the young nobleman;
“T hope in Heaven she has not been trepanned, for the
treasure she had with her.”

“T hope not, my lord,” replied Heriot ; “but men’s minds
are much disturbed about it. Our national character suf-
fers on all hands. Men remember the fatal case of Lord
Sanquhar, hanged for the murder of a fencing-master ;
and exclaim, they will not have their wives whored, and
their property stolen, by the nobility of Scotland.”

“ And all this is laid to my door?” said Nigel. “ My
exculpation is easy.” :

“T trust so, my lord,” said Heriot ;— nay, in this
particular, I do not doubt it—But why did you leave
Whitefriars under such circumstances ?”

“ Master Reginald Lowestoffe sent a boat for me, with
intimation to provide for my safety.”

“TI am sorry to say,” replied Heriot, “that he denies
all knowledge of your lordship’s motions, after having
espatched a messenger to you with some baggage.”

“The watermen told me they were employed by him.”

“Watermen !” said Heriot; “one of these proves to
be an idle apprentice, an old acquaintance of mine—the
other has escaped ; but the fellow who is in custody per-
sists in saying he was employed by your lordship, and
you only.”

“He lies!” said Lord Glenvarloch, hastily ;—“ He told
me Master Lowestoffe had sent him.—I hope that kind-
hearted gentleman is at liberty ?”

“He is,” answered Heriot; “and has escaped with a
rebuke from the benchers, for interfering in such a matter
as your lordship’s. ‘The Court desire to keep well witkTHE FORT JNES OF NIGEL. 915

che young Templars in these times of commotion, or he
had not come off so well.”

“That is the only word of comfort I have heard from
you,” replied Nigel. “ But this poor woman—she and
her trunk were committed to the charge of two porters.”

“So said the pretended waterman; but none of the
fellows who ply at the wharf will acknowledge the em-
ployment.—I see the idea makes you uneasy, my lord ;
but every effort is made to discover the poor woman’s

 

place of retreat—if, indeed, she yet lives.—And now, my
lord, my errand is spoken, so far as it relates exclusively
to your lordship ; what remains, is matter of business of a
more formal kind.” ;

“ Let us proceed to it without delay,” said Lord Glen-
varloch. “I would hear of the affairs of any one rather
than of my own.”

“ You cannot have forgotten, my lord,’ said Heriot,
“the transaction which took place some weeks since at
Lord Huntinglen’s—by which a large sum of money was
advanced for the redemption of your lordship’s estate ?”

“J yemember it perfectly,’ said Nigel; “and your
present austerity cannot make me forget your kindness
on the occasion.”

Heriot bowed gravely, and went on.—* That money
was advanced under the expectation and hope, that it
might. be replaced by the contents of a grant to your lord-
ship, under the royal sign-manual, in payment of certain
moneys due by the crown to your father.—I trust your
lordship understood the transaction at the time—-I trust
you now understand my resumption of its impcrt and
hold it to be correct ?”

“ Undeniably correct,” answered Lord Glenvarloch.
“Tf the sums -contained in the warrant cannot be recov-seeecssen es a

Go eeaerse

  

216 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

pred, my lands become the property of those who paid
off the original holders of the mortgage, and now stand
jn their right.”

“Even so, my lord,” said Heriot. “And your lord-
ship’s unhappy circumstances having, it would seem,
alarmed these creditors, they are now, I am sorry to
say, pressing for one or other of these alternatives—
possession of the land, or payment of their debt.”

“They have a right to one or other,” answered Lord
Glenvarloch ; “and as I cannot do the last in my present
condition, I suppose they must enter on possession.”

“Stay, my lord,” replied Heriot ; “if you have ceased
to call me a friend to your person, at least you shall see
I am willing to be such to your father’s house, were it
but for the sake of your father’s memory. If you will
trust me with the warrant under the sign-manual, I be-
lieve circumstances do now so stand at Court, that I may
be able to recover the money for you.”

“JT would do so gladly,” said Lord Glenvarloch, “ but
the casket which contains it is not in my possession. It
was seized when I was arrested at Greenwich.”

“Tt will be no longer withheld from you,” said Heriot;
“for, I understand, my Master’s natural good sense, and
some information which he has procured, I know not how,
has induced him to contradict the whole charge of the
attempt on his person. It is entirely hushed up; and
you will only be proceeded against for your violence on
Lord Dalgarno, committed within the verge of the Palace
-—and that you will find heavy enough to answer.”

“TY will not shrink under the weight,” said Lord Glen-
varloch. “But that is not the present point.—If ] had
that casket ””»——_

“Your baggage stood in the little anteroom, as |THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. Zee.

passed,” said the citizen; “the casket caught my eye.

 

{ think you had it of me.—It was my old friend Sir

Faithful Frugal’s. Ay; he, too, had a son”

 

Here he stopped short.
“« A son who, like Lord Glenvarloch’s, did no credit to
his father.

 

Was it not so you would have ended the
sentence, Master Heriot ?” said the young nobleman.

93

“My lord, it was a word spoken rashly,” answered
Heriot. “God may mend all in his own good time.
This, however, I will say, that I have sometimes envied
my friends their fair and flourishing families; and yet
have I seen such changes when death has removed the
head, so many rich men’s sons penniless, the heirs of so
many knights and nobles acreless, that J think mine own
estate and memory, as I shall order it, has a fair chance
of outliving those of greater men, though God has given
me no heir of my name. But this is from the purpose.
——Ho! warder, bring in Lord Glenvarloch’s baggage.”
The officer obeyed. Seals had been placed upon the
trunk and casket, but were now removed, the warder
said, in consequence of the subsequent orders from Court,
and the whole was placed at the prisoner’s free disposal.

Desirous to bring this painful visit to a conclusion, Lord
Glenvarloch opened the casket, and looked through the
papers which it contained, first hastily, and then more
slowly and accurately; but it was all in vain. The
Sovereign’s signed warrant had disappeared.

“T thought and expected nothing better,” said George
Heriot, bitterly. “The beginning of evil is as the letting
sut of water. Here is a fair heritage lost, I dare say, on
a foul cast at dice, or a conjuring trick at cards |My
lord, your surprise is well played. I give you full joy
of your accomplishments. I have seen many as young———
a

er Sa,
= ?

 

es eS ee
Sees

on ene 1 E>

— rt ee
Re al

218 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

brawlers and spendthrifts, but never so young and acctom-
plished a dissembler.

 

Nay, man, never bend your angry

brows on me. I speak in bitterness of heart, from what
I retnember of your worthy father; and if his son hears
of his degeneracy from no one else, he shall hear it from
the old goldsmith.”

This new-suspicion drove Nigel to the very extremity
of his patience; yet the motives and zeal of the good old
man, as well as the circumstances of suspicion which
created his displeasure, were so excellent an excuse for
it, that they formed an absolute curb on the resentment
of Lord Glenvarloch, and constrained him, after two or
three hasty exclamations, to observe a proud and sullen
silence. At length, Master Heriot resumed his lecture.

“Hark you, my lord,” he said, “it is scarce possible
that this most important paper can be absolutely assigned
away. Let me know in what obscure corner, and for
what petty sum, it lies pledged—something may yet be
done.”

“Your efforts in my favour are the more generous,”
said Lord Glenvarloch, “ as you: offer them to one whom
you believe you have cause to think hardly of—but they
are altogether unavailing. Fortune has taken the field
against me at every point. Even let her win the battle.”’

“ Zouns !” exclaimed Heriot, impatiently, —“ you would
make a saint swear! Why, I tell you, if this paper, the
loss of which seems to sit so light on you, be net found,
farewell to the fair lordship of Glenvarloch—firth and
forest—lea and furrow—lake and stream—all that has
been in the house of Olifaunt since the days of William
the Lion.”

“ Farewell to them, then,” said Nigel,—“ and that moan
is soon made.”THE FORTUNES .F NIGEL. 219

“ Sdeath! my lord, you will make more moan for it
ere you die,” said Heriot, in the same tone of angry im-
patience.

“Not I, my old friend,” said Nigel. “If I mourn,
Master Heriot, it will be for having lost the good opinion
of a worthy man, and lost it, as I must say, most unde-
servedly.”

“ Ay, ay, young mau,” said Heriot, shaking his head,
“make me believe that, if you can.—To sum the matter
up,” he said, rising from his seat, and walking towards
that occupied by the disguised female, “for our matters
are now drawn into small compass, you shall as soon
‘make me believe that this masquerading mummer, on

authority, is a

1
1

whom I now lay the hand of. paterna
French page, who understands no English.”

So saying, he took hold of the supposed page's ¢ oak,
and, not without some gentle degree of violence, led into
the middle of the apartment the disguised fair one, who
in vain attempted to cover her face, first with her mantle,
and afterwards with her hands; both which impediments
Master Heriot removed somewhat unceremoniously, and
gave to view the detected daughter of the old chronologist,
his own fair god-daughter, Margaret Ramsay.

“ Here is goodly gear!” he said; and, as he spoke, he
could not prevent himself from giving her a slight shake,
for we have elsewhere noticed that he was a severe disci-
plinarian.—* How comes it, minion, that I find you in so
shameless a dress, and so unworthy a situation ? Nay,

your modesty is now mistimed—it should have co!

@

oo
bow

 

sooner. Speak, or I will”
“Master Heriot,” said Lord Glenvarloch, “ whatever
right you may have over this maiden elsewhere, while im

my apartment she is under my protection.”f
f

220 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

“Your protection, my lord !—a proper protector !—
And how long, mistress, have you been under my lord’s
protection? Speak out, forsooth.”

“For the matter of two hours, godfather,” answered
the maiden, with a countenance bent to the ground, and
covered with blushes, “but it was against my will.”

“Two hours!” repeated Heriot,—* space enough for
mis

                

this is, I suppose, another victim
offered to your character of gallantry—another adventure
to be boasted of at Beaujeu’s ordinary? Methinks the
root under which you first met this silly maiden should
have secured her at least from such a fate.”

“On my honour, Master Heriot,” said Lord Glenvar-
loch, “ you remind me now, for the first time, that I saw
this young lady in your family. Her features are not
easily forgotten, and yet I was trying in vain to recollect
where I had last looked on them. For your suspicions,

 

they are as false as they are injurious both to her and
me. JI had but discovered her dis sguise as you entered,
I am satisfied, from her whole behavi lour, that her pres-
ence here in this dress was involuntary ; and God forbid
that I had been capable of taking advantage of it to her
prejudice.”

“Tt is well mouthed, my lord,” said Master Heriot :
“but a cunning clerk can read the Apocrypha as loud :
the Scripture. Frankly, my lord, you are come to aia
pass, where your words will not be received without a
warrant.”

“T should not speak, perhaps,” said Margaret, the
natural vivacity of whose temper could never

be long
buppr ssed by any situation, however

disadvanta ugeous,
"but I e: t be silent. - Godfat}
but 1 cannot be silen xodfather, you do me wrong—

and no less wrong to this. young nobleman. You say hisTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 291

words want a warrant. I know where to find a warrant
for some of them, and the rest I deeply and devoutty
believe without one.”

“ And I thank you, maiden,” replied Nigei,.“for the
good opinion you have expressed. Iam at that point, it
seems, though how I have been driven to it I know net,
where every fair construction of my actions and motives
is refused me. Jam the more obliged to her who grants
me that right which the world denies me. For you, lady,
were I at liberty, I have a sword and arm should know
how to guard your reputation.”

“Upon my word, a perfect Amadis and Oriana!” said
George Heriot. “I should soon get my throat cut be-
twixt the knight and the princess, I suppose, but that the
beef-eaters are happily within halloo.—Come, come,

 

Lady Light-o’-Love—if you mean to make your way
with me, it must be by plain facts, not by speeches from
romaunts and playbooks. How, in Heaven’s name, came
you here?”

“Sir.”” answered Margaret, “since I must speak, I
went to Greenwich this morning with Monna Paula, to
present a petition to the King on the part of the Lady
Hermione.”

“Mercy-a-gad!” exclaimed Heriot, “is she in the
dance too? Could she not, have waited my return to
stir in her affairs? But I suppose the intelligence I sent
her had rendered her restless. Ah! woman, woman—
he that goes partner with you, had need of a double share
of patience, for you will bring- none into the common
stock.—-Well, but what on earth had this embassy of
Monna Paula’s to do with your absurd discuise ? Speak

33
°

put
éMonna Paula was frightened,” answered Margaret,ee a
* STP DENI

a teem 4 Te

'

D2? WAVERLEY NOVELS.

“and did not know how to set about the errand, for you
know she scarce ever goes out of doors—and so—and

-so—I agreed to go with her to give her courage; and,

for the dress, I am sure you remember I wore it at a
Christmas mumming, and you thought it not unbeseem-
ing.”

“Yes, for a Christmas parlour,” said Heriot, “but not
to go a-masking through the country in. I do remember
it, minion, and I knew it even now; that and your little
shoe there, linked with a hint I had in the morning from
a friend, or one who called himself such, led to your
detection.”—Here Lord Glenvarloch could not help
giving a glance at the pretty foot, which even the staid

 

citizen thought worth recollection—it was but a glance,
for he saw how much the least degree of observation
added to Margaret’s distress and confusion. “And tel]
me, maiden,” continued Master Heriot, for what we have
observed was Eye lay,—“ a the Lady Hermione know
of this fair work?

“Y dared not have told her for the wor ld,” said Mar-
garet—“ she thought one of our apprentices went with
Monna Paula.”

It may be here noticed, that the words “our appren-
tices,” seemed to have in them something of a charm to
break the fascination with which Lord Glenvarloch had
hitherto listened to the broken, yet interesting details of
Margaret’s history.

“And wherefore went he not ?—he had been a fitter
tcmpanion for Monna Paula than you, I wot,” said the
eitizen.

“He was otherwise employed,” said Margaret, in a
voice scarcely audible.

Master George darted a hasty glance at Nigel, andTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 223

when he saw his features betoken no consciousness, he
muttered to himself—“* It must be better than I feared.
—And so this cursed Spaniard, with her head full, as
they all have, of disguises, trap-doors, rope-ladders, and
masks, was jade and fool enough to take you with her
on this wild-goose errand?—And how sped you, I
pray?”

“ Just as we reached the gate of the Park,” replied
Margaret, “the cry of treason was raised. I know not
what became of Monna, but I ran till I fell into the arms
of a very decent serving-man, called Linklater; and J
was fain to tell him I was your god-daughter, and so he
kept the rest of them from me, and got me to speech of
his Majesty, as I entreated him to do.”

“Tt is the only sign you showed in the whole matter
that common sense had not utterly deserted your little
skull,” said Heriot.

“His Majesty,” continued the damsel, “ was so gracious
as to receive me alone, though the courtiers cried out
against the danger to his person, and would have searched
me for arms, God help me, but the King forbade it. I
fancy he had ahint from Linklater how the truth stood
with me.”

« Well, maiden, I ask not what passed,” said Heriot ;
‘Ii becomes not me to pry into my Master’s secrets.
Had you been closeted with his erandfather the Red Tod
of Saint Andrews, as Davie Lindsay used to call him, by
my faith, I should have had my own thoughts of the
matter; but our Master, God bless him, is douce and
temperate, and Solomon in every thing save in the chap-
ter of wives and concubines.”

“J know not what you-mean, sir,” answered Margaret.
* His Majesty was most kind and compassionate, but saidf

  

224 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

I must be sent hither, and that the Lieutenant’s lady, the
Lady Mansel, would have a charge of me, and see that ]
sustained no wrong; and the King promised to send me
in a tilted barge, and under conduct of a person well
known to you; and thus I come to be in the Tower.”

“But how, or why, in this apartment, nymph?’ said
George Heriot— Expound that to me, for I think the
riddle needs reading.”

“T cannot explain it, sir, farther than that the Lady
Mansel sent me here, in spite of my earnest prayers,
tears, and entreaties. J was not afraid of any thing, for
I knew I should be protected. But I could have died
then—could die now—for very shame and confusion.”

« Well, well, if your tears are genuine,” said Heriot,
“they may the sooner wash out the memory of your
fault—HKnows your father aught of this escape of
yours ?”

“YT would not for the world he did,” replied she; “he
believes me with the Lady Hermione.”

“Ay, honest Davy can regulate his horologes better
than his family. Come, damsel, now I will escort you
back to the Lady Mansel, and pray her, of her kindness,
that when she is again entrusted with a goose, she will
not give it to the fox to keep.—The warders will let us
pass to my lady’s lodgings, I trust.”

“Stay but one moment,’ said Lord Glenvarloch,
“Whatever hard opinion you may have formed of me, I
forgive you, for time will show that you do me wrong;
and you yourself, I think, will be the first to regret the
injustice you have done me. But involve not in your
suspicions this young person, for whose purity of thought
angels themselves should be vouchers; I have marked
every look, every gesture, and, whilst I can draw breath,
V shall ever think of her with ”THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 225

«Think not at all of her, my lord,” answered George
Heriot, interrupting him; “it is, I have a notion, the best
favour you can do her ;—or think of her as the daughter
of Davy Ramsay, the elock-maker, no proper subject for
fine speeches, romantic adventures, or high-flown Arca-
dian compliments. I give you god-den, my lord. I think
not altogether so harshly as my speech may have spoken,
If I can help—that is, if I saw my way clearly through
this labyrinth—but it avails not talkingnow. I give your
lordship god-den.—Here, warder! Permit us to pass to
the Lady Mansel’s apartment.”

The warder said he must have orders from the Lieut-
enant; and as he retired to procure them, the parties re-
mained standing near each other, but without speaking,
and scarce looking at each other save by stealth, a situa-
tion which, in two of the party at least, was sufficiently
embarrassing. The difference of rank, though in that
age a consideration so serious, could not prevent Lord
Glenvarloch from seeing that Margaret Ramsay was one
of the prettiest young women he had ever beheld—from
suspecting, he could scarce tell why, that he himself was
not indifferent to her—from feeling assured that he had
been the cause of much of her present distress—admira-
tion, self-love, and generosity, acting in favour of the same
object; and when the yeoman returned with permission
to his guests to withdraw, Nigel’s obeisance to the beauti-
ful daughter of the mechanic was marked with an expres-
sion, which called up in her cheeks as much colour as any
incident of the eventful day had hitherto excited. She
returned the courtesy timidly and irresolutely—clung te
her godfather’s arm, and left the apartment, which, dark
as it was, had never yet appeared so obscure to Nigel, as
when the door closed behind her.

VAL. XXVITI. 1hire eee

 

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Yet though thou shouldst be dragg’d in scorn
To yonder ignominious tree,

Thou shalt not want one faithful friend
To share the cruel fates’ decree.

BALLAD OF JEMMY DAWSON.

Masrer GrorGce Heriot and his ward, as she might
justly be termed, for his affection to Margaret imposed on
him all the cares of a cuardian, were ushered by the
yeomen of the guard to the lodging of the Lieutenant,
where they found him seated with his lady. ‘They were
received by both with that decorous elvility which Master
Heriot’s character and supposed influence demant led, even
at the hand of a punctilious old soldier and courtier like
Sir Edward Mansel. Lady Mansel received Margaret
with like courtesy, and informed Master Geor ve that she
was now only her cuest, and no longer her prisoner.

“« She is at liberty,” she said, “to return to her friends
under your charge—such is his Majesty’s pleasure.”

“JT am glad of it, madam,” answered Heriot, “but only
I could pe wished her freedom had taken place before
her foolish interview with that singular young man; and
[ marvel your ladyship permitted it.”

“My good Master Heriot,” said Sirk fdward, “we act
according to the commands of one better and wiser than

yurselves—our orders from his Majesty must be strictlyTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 227

and literally obeyed; and I need not say that the wisdom

 

of his Majesty doth more than ensure”

“T know his Majesty’s wisdom well,” said Heriot,
“yet there 1s an old proverb about fire and flax—well,
let it pass.”

“J see Sir Mungo Malagrowther stalking towards the
door of the lodging,” said the Lady Mansel, “ with the
gait of a lame crane—it is his second visit this morning.”

“He brought the warrant for discharging Lord Glen-
varloch of the charge of treason,” said Sir Edward.

“ And from him,” said Heriot, “I heard much of what
had befallen; for I came from France only late last even-
ing, and somewhat unexpectedly.”

As they spoke, Sir Mungo entered the apartment—-
saluted the Lieutenant of the Tower and his lady with
ceremonious civility—honoured George Heriot with a
patronizing nod of acknowledgement, and accosted Mar-
garet with—“ Hey! my young charge, you have not
doffed your masculine attire yet ie

“ She does not mean to lay it aside, Sir Mungo,” said
Heriot, speaking. loud, “until she has had _ satisfaction
from you, for betraying her disguise to me, like a false
knight—and in very deed, Sir Mungo, I think when you
told me she was rambling about in so stvange a dress,
you might have said also that she was under Lady Man-
sel’s protection.” |

“ That was the King’s secret, Master Heriot,” said Sir
Mungo, throwing himself into a chair with an air of atra-
bilarious importance; “the other was a well-meaning
hint to yourself as the girl's friend.”

“Yes,” replied Heriot, “it was done like yourselt-—
enough told to make me unhappy about her—net a word
which could relieve my uneasiness.”Sp tenn: 71>

228 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

“ Sir Mungo will not hear that remark,” said the lady
“we must change the subject.—Is there any news from
Court, Sir Mungo? you have been to Greenwich ? ”.

“You might as well ask me, madam,” answered the
Knight, “ whether there is any news from hell.”

“ How, Sir Mungo, how!” said Sir Edward, “ measure
your words something better—You speak of the Court
of King James.”

“Sir Edward, if I spoke of the Court of the twelve
Kaisers, I would say it is as confused for the present as
the infernal regions. Courtiers of forty years’ standing,
and such I may write myself, are as far to seek in the
matter as a minnow in the Maelstrom. Some folks say
the King has frowned on the Prince—some that the
Prince has looked grave on the Duke—some that Lord
Glenvarloch will be hanged for high treason—and some
that there is matter against Lord Dalgarno that may cost
him as much as ‘his head’s worth.”

“And what do you, that are a courtier of forty years’
standing, think of it all?” said Sir Edward Mansel.

“Nay, nay, do not ask him, Sir Edward,” said the
lady, with an expressive look to her husband.

“Sir Mungo is too witty,’ added Master Heriot, “to
remember that he who says aught that may be repeated
to his own prejudice, does but load a piece for any of the
company to shoot him dead with at their pleasure and
convenience.”

“What!” said the bold knicht, “ you think I am afraid

of the trepan? |

Why now, what if I should say that
Dalgarno has more wit than honesty,—the Duke more
sail than ballast,—the Prince more pride than prudence,
——and that the King”——— The Lady Mansel held up

1er finger in a warning manner—“ that the King is myheat

THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 299

very good master, who has given me, for forty years and
more, dog’s wages, videlicet, bones and beating.—Why
now, all this is said, and Archie Armstrong * says worse
than this of the best of them every day.”

“The more fool he,” said George Heriot; “yet he is
not so utterly wrong, for folly is his best wisdom. But
do not you, Sir Mungo, set your wit against a fool’s,
though he be a court fool.”

“A fool, said you?” replied Sir Mungo, not having
fully heard what Master Heriot said, or not choosing to
have it thought so,—* I have been a fool indeed, to hang
on at a close-fisted Court here, when men of understand-
ing and men of action have been making fortunes in
every other place of Europe. But here a man comes
indifferently off unless he gets a great key to turn,”
(looking at Sir Edward,) “or can beat tattoo with a
hammer on a pewter plate.— Well, sirs, I must make as
much haste back on mine errand as if I were a feed
messenger.—Sir Edward and my lady, I leave my com-
mendations with you—and my good-will with you Master
Heriot—and for this breaker of bounds, if you will act
by my counsel, some maceration by fasting, and a gentle
use of the rod, is the best cure for her giddy fits.”

“If you propose for Greenwich, Sir Mungo,” said the
Lieutenant, “I can spare you the labour—the King
comes immediately to Whitehall.”

 

 

“And that must be the reason the council are sum-
moned to meet in such hurry,” said Sir Mungo. “ Well
—I will, with your permission, go to the poor lad Glen-
varloch, and bestow some comfort on him.”

The Lieutenant seemed to look up, and pause fora
moment as if in doubt.

* The celebrated Court Jester.at

ne

 

Soe

ar
ogee

 

SI GE. ID

staan!

seater
SRI

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230 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

“The lad will want a pleasant companion, who can
tell him the nature of the punishment which he is to
suffer, and other matters of concernment. I will not
leave him until I show him how absolutely he hath ruined
himself from feather to spur, how de; ylorable is his pres-
ent state, and how small his chance of mending it.”

“ Well, Sir Mungo,” replied the Lieutenant, “if you
really think all this likely to be very cons solatory to the
party concerned, I will send a war der to conduct you.”

“ And I,” said George Heriot, “ will humbly pray of
Lady Mansel, that she will lend some of her handmaid-
en’s apparel to this giddy-brained girl; for I shall for-
feit my reputation if I walk up Tower -hill with her in
that mad guise—and yet the silly lassie looks not so ill
in it neither.”

“JT will send my coach with you instantly,” said the
obliging lady.

“ Faith, madam, and if you will honour us with such
courtesy, I will gladly accept it at your hands,” said the
citizen, “for business presses hard on me, and the fore-
noon is already lost, to little purpose.”

The coach being ordered accordingly, transported the
worthy citizen and his charge to his mansion in Lombard
Street. There he found his presence was anxiously ex-
pected by the Lady Hermione, who had just received an
order to be in readiness to attend upon the Royal Privy
Council in the course of an hour; and upon whom, in
her inexperience of business, and long retirement from
society and the world, the intimation had made as deep
an impression as if it had not been the necessary conse-
quence of the petition which she had presented to the
King by Monna Paula. George Heriot gently blamed

her for taking any steps in an affair so important untilTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 251

his return from France, especially as he had requested
her to remain quiet, in a letter which accompanied the
evidence he had transmitted to her from Paris. She
could only plead in answer the influence which her im-
mediately stirring in the matter was likely to have on the
affair of her kinsman, Lord Glenvarloch, for she was
ashamed to acknowledge how much she had been gained
on by the eager importunity of her youthful companion.
The motive of Margaret’s eagerness was, of course, the
safety of Nigel; but we must leave it to time, to show in
what particulars that came to be connected with the peti-
tion of the Lady Hermione. Meanwhile, we return to
the visit with which Sir Mungo Malagrowther favoured
‘the afflicted young nobleman in his place of captivity.

The Knight, after the usual salutations, and having
prefaced his discourse with a great deal of professed
regret for Nigel’s situation, sat down’ beside him, and,
composing his grotesque features into the most lugubrious
despondence, began his raven-song as follows :-—

“JT pless God, my lord, that I was the person who had
the pleasure to bring his Majesty’s mild message to the
Lieutenant, discharging the higher prosecution against
ye e, for any thing meditated against his Majesty’s sacred
person; for, admit you be Gursccated on the lesser
offence, or breach of privilege of the palace and its pre-
tincts, wsque ad mutilationem, even to oe
as it is most likely you will, yet the loss of a member 13
nothing to be hanged and drawn quick, after the fickion
af a traitor.”

“Ishould fvel the shame of having deserved such a
punishment,” answered Nigel, “ more than the pain of
undergoing it.”

“ Doubtless, my lord, the having, as you say, deservedthee, -ebaesttee, A
EERE

ie

rae
i

ee ee

2 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

it, must be an excruciation to your own mind,” replied
his tormentor; “a kind of mental and metaphysical
hanging, drawing, and quartering, which may be in some
measure equipollent with the external application of
hemp, iron, fire, and the like, to the outer man.”

“T say, Sir Mungo,” repeated Nigel, “and beg you to
understand my words, that I am unconscious of any
error, save that of having arms on my person when I
chanced to approach that of my Sovereign.”

“Ye are right, my lord, to acknowledge nothing,”
said Sir Mungo. “We have an old proverb,—Confess,
and—so forth. And, indeed, as to the weapons, his
Majesty has a special ill-will at all arms whatsoever, and
more especially pistols ; but, as I said, there is an end of
that matter.* I wish you as well through the next, which
is altogether unlikely.”

“Surely, Sir Mungo,” answered Nigel, “ you yourself
might say something in my favour concerning the affair
in the Park. None knows better than you that [ was at
that moment urged by wrongs of the most heinous nature,
offered to me by Lord Dalgarno, many of which were
reported to me by yourself, much to the inflammation of

my passion.”

* Wilson informs us that when Colonel Grey, a Scotsman who
affected the buff dress even in the time of peace, appeared in that mil-
itary garb at court, the King, seeing him with a case of pistols at his
girdle, which he never greatly liked, told him, merrily, “ he was now so
fortified, that, if he were but well victualled, he would be impregnable.”’
—Wruson’s Life and Reign of James VI., apud KENNET’s History of
England, vol. ii. p. 389. In 1612, the tenth year of James’s reign,
thare was a rumour abroad that a shipload of pocket-pistols had been
exported from Spain, with a view to a general massacre of the Protes-
tants. Proclamations were of consequence sent forth, prohibiting all
persons from carrying pistols under a foot long in the barrel.—Jl&d
p 690Me

THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 233

1»

* Alack-a-day !—alack-a-day !” replied Sir Mungo, “4
remember but too well how much your choler was in-
Hamed in spite of the various remonstrances which I
made to you respecting the sacred nature of the place.
Alas! alas! you cannot say you leaped into the mire tor
want of warning.”

“T see, Sir Mungo, you are determined to remember
nothing which can do me service,” said Nigel.

“Blithely would I do ye service,’ said the Knight ;
“and the best whilk I can think of is, to tell you the pro-
cess of the punishment to the whilk you will be indubi-
tably subjected, I having had the good fortune to behold
it performed in the Queen’s time, on a chield that had
written a pasquinado. I was then in my Lord Gray’s
train, who lay leaguer here, and being always covetous
of pleasing and profitable sights, I could not dispense with
being present on the occasion.”

“ T should be surprised indeed,” said Lord Glenvarloch,
“if you had so far put restraint upon your benevolence,
as to stay away from such an exhibition.”

“ Hey! was*your lordship praying me to be present at
your own execution ?” answered the Knight. ‘ Troth,
my lord, it will be a painful sight to a friend, but I will
rather punish myself than baulk you. It is a pretty

 

pageant, in the main—a very pretty pageant. The fallow
came on with such a bold face, it was a pleasure to look
on him. He was dressed all in white, to signify harm-
lessness and innocence. The thing was done on a scaffold
at Westminster—most likely yours will be at. Charing,
There were the Sheriff’s. and the Marshal’s men, and
what not—the executioner, with his cleaver and mallet,

 

and his man, with a pan of hot charcoal, and the irons for
cautery. He was a dexterous fallow that Derrick. Tissa Regie He

 

 

andy aemEnat
om

 

234 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

man Gregory is not fit to jipper a jcint with him; it
might be worth your lordship’s while to have the loon
sent to a barber-surgeon’s, to learn some needful scant-
ling of anatomy—it may be for the benefit of yourself

 

             

end other unhappy sufferers, and also a kindness to
Gregory.”

“J will not take the trouble,” said Nigel.—* If the
laws will demand my hand, the executioner may get it off
as he best can. If the King leaves it where it is, it may
chance to do him better service.”

“Vera noble—vera grand, indeed, my lord,” said Sir
Mungo; “it is pleasant to see a brave man suffer. This
fallow whom I spoke of—this Tubbs, or Stubbs, or what-
ever the plebeian was called, came forward as boid as an
emperor, and said to the people, ‘ One friends, I come to
leave here the hand of a true Englishman,’ and clapped
it on the dressing-block with as nt ease as if he had
laid it on his sweetheart’s shoulder; whereupon Derrick
the hangman, adjusting, d’ye mind me, the edge of his
cleaver on the very joint, hit it with the mallet with such
force, that the hand flew off as far from* the owner as a
gauntlet which the challenger casts down in the tilt-yard.
Well, sir, Stubbs, or Tubbs, lost no whit of countenance,
until the fallow clapped the hissing-hot iron on his raw
stump. My lord, it fizzed like a rasher of bacon, and the
fallow set.up an elritch screech, which ma ns some think

+

his courage was abated; but not a whit, for he plucked

off his hat with his left hand, and waved i crying, ‘ Ged

save the Queen, and confound all evil counsellors!’ The

people gave him three cheers, which he deserved for his
stout heart; and, truly, I hope to see your lordshi
SF he.

with the same magnanimity.

* This execution which so captivated the imagination of Siz: MungeTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 239

“J thank you, Sir Mungo,” said Nigel, who had not

been able to forbear some natural feelin 1905 of an unpleas-

ant nature during this lively det ese have no doubt
the exhibition will be a very rere oe e to you and the
other spectators, whatever it may prove to the party prin-
cipally concerned.”

“Vera engaging,” answered Sir Mungo, “ vera inter-
esting—vera interesting indeed, though not altogethe: so
much so as an execution for high treason. I saw Digby,
the Winters, Fawkes, and the rest of the gunpowder
gang, suffer for that treason, whilk was a vera grand spec-
tacle, as well in regard to their eae as to their
constancy in enduring.”

“Tam the more obliged te your goodness, Sir Mungo,”

replied Nigel, “ that has induced you, although you have

Malagrowther, was really a striking one. The criminal, a furious and
bigoted Puritan, had published a book in very violent terms against
the match of Elizabeth with the Duke of Alencon, which he termed
an union of a daughter of God with a son of Antichrist. Queen Eliz-
abeth was greatly incensed at the freedom assumed in this work, and
caused the author-Stubbs, with Page the publisher, and one Singleton
the printer, to be tried on an act passed by Philip and Mary against
the writers and dispersers of seditious publications. They were con-
victed, and although there was an opinion strongly entertained by
lawyers, that the act was only temporary, and expired with Queen
Mary, Stubbs and Page received sentence to have their right hands
struck off. They accordingly suffered the punishment, the wrist
being divided by a cleaver driven through the joint by force of a mal-
let. The printer was pardoned. “I remember,” says the historian
Camden, “ being then present, that Stubbs, when his right hand was
cut off, plucked off his hat with the left, and said, with a loud voice,
‘God save the Queen!’ The multitude standing about was deeply
silent, either out of horror of this new and unwonted kind of punish-
ment, or out of commiseration tow ards the man, as being of au honest
and unblamable repute, or else out of hatred to the marriage, whicn
most men presaged would be the overthrow of religion.””. CAMDEN §
dnnals for the Year 1581.|
}

 

£36 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

lost the sight, to congratulate me on my escape from the
hazard of making the same edifying appearance.”

“As you say, my lord,” answered Sir Mungo, “the
loss is chiefly in appearance.- Nature has been very
bountiful to us, and has given duplicates of some organs,
that we may endure the loss of one of them, should some
such circumstance chance in our pilgrimage. See my
poor dexter, abridged to one thumb, one finger, and a
stump,—by the blow of my adversary’s weapon, however,
and not by any carnificial knife. Weel, sir, this poor
maimed hand doth me, in some sort, as much service as
ever ; and, admit yours to be taken off by the wrist, you
have still your left hand for your service, and are. better
off than the little Dutch dwarf here about town, who
threads a needle, limns, writes, and tosses a pike, merely
by means of his feet, without ever a hand to help him.”

“Well, Sir Mungo,” said Lord Glenvarloch, “ this is
all no doubt very consolatory ; but I hope the King will
spare my hand to fight for him in battle, where, notwith-
standing all your kind encouragement, I could spend my

93

blood much more cheerfully than on a scaffold
“Tt is even a sad truth,” replied Sir Mungo, “ that your
lordship was but too like to have died on a seaffold—not

n soul to speak for you but that deluded lassie, Maggie

“Ramsay.”

“Whom mean you?” said Nigel, with more interest
than he had hitherto shown in the Knights communica-
tions.

“ Nay, who should I mean, but that travestied lassie
whom we dined with when we honoured Heriot the gold-
smith? Ye ken best how you have made interest with
her but I saw her on her knees to the King fer you.

She vas committed to my charge, to bring her up hitherTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. Faz

in honovr and safety. Had I had my own will, I would
AAA aan ,y : T

have had her to Bridewell, to flog the wild blood out of
her—a cutty quean, to think of we earing the breeches, and
not so much as married yet!”

“ Hark ye, Sir Mungo Malacrowthe ee answered Nigel,
“I would have you talk of that young person with fitting
respect.”

“With all the respect that befits your lordship’s paras
mour, and Davy Ramsay’s daughter, I shall. certainly
speak of her, my lord,” said Sir Mungo, assuming a dry
tone of irony.

Nigel was greatly disposed to have made a serious
quarrel of it, but with Sir Mungo such an affair would
have been ridiculous. He smothered his resentment,
therefore, and conjured him to tell what he had heard and
seen respecting this young person.

“Simply, that I was in the anteroom when she had
audience, and heard the King say, to my great perplex-
ity, “Pulehra sane puella;’ and Maxwell, who hath but
indifferent Latin ears, thought that his Majesty called on

2

him by his own name of Sawney, and thrust into the
presence, and there I saw our sovereign James, with his
own hand, raising up the lassie, who, as I anh heretofor G;
was travestied in man’s attire. I should have had my
pwn thoughts of it, but our eracious Master is auld, and

ras nae great gillravager amang the queans even in his
Fathi and he was comforting her in his own way, and
saying,—‘ Ye needna greet about it, my bonnie woman,
Gienvarlochides shall have fair play ; and, indeed, when
the hurry was off our spirits, we could not believe that
he had any design on our person. And touching his
pther offences, we will look wisely and eel into the

r

matter. So I got charge to take the young fence-loupe

o>Ce RE a * B..

 

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Serie

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a Rte: Ses cian:

meee

sree

* CaS

maar

238 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

to the Tower here, and deliver her to the charge of- Lady
Mansel; and his Majesty charged me to say not a word
to her about your offences, for, said he, the poor thing is
breaking her heart for him.”

“And on this you charitably have founded the opinion
to the prejudice of this young lady, which you have now
thought proper to express?” said Lord Glenvarloch.

“Tn honest truth, my lord,” replied Sir Mungo, “ what

opinion would you have me form of a wench who gets
mto male habiliments, and goes on her knees to the King

gC
5
?

for a wild young nobleman ‘7 wot not what the fashion-
able word may be, for the phrase changes, though the
custom abides. But truly I must needs think this young
leddy—if you call Watchie Ramsay’s daughter a young
leddy—demeans herself more like a leddy of pleasure
than a leddy of honour.”

“You do her egregious wrong, Sir Mungo,” said Nigel.
“or rather you have.been misled by appearances.”

“So will all the world be misled, my lord,” replied the
satirist, “unless you were doing that to disabuse them
which your father’s son will hardly judge it fit to do.”

“ And what may that be, I pray you?”

“ H’en marry the lass—make her Leddy Glenyarloch.
—Ay, ay, ye may start—but it’s the course you are
driving on. Rather marry than do worse, if the worst
be not done already.”

‘Sir Mungo,” said Nigel, I pray you to forbear this
subject, and rather return to that of the mutilation, upon
which it pleased you to enlarge a short while since.”

“T have not time at present,” said Sir Mungo, hearing
the clock strike four; “but so soon as you shall have
feceived sentence, my lord, you may rely on my giving
you the fullest detail of the whole solemnity ; and I giveTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 239

you my word, as a knight and gentleman, that I will
myself attend you on the scaffold, whoever may cast sour
looks on me for doing so. I bear a heart, to stand by a
friend in the worst of times.”

So saying, he wished Lord Glenvarloch farewell ; whe
felt as heartily rejoiced at his departure, though it may
be a bold word, as any person who had ever undergone
his society. —

But, when left to his own reflections, Nigel could not
help feeling solitude nearly as irksome as the company of
Sir Mungo Malagrowther. The total wreck of his for-
tune,—which seemed now to be rendered unavoidable by
the loss of the royal warrant, that had afforded him the

 

means of redeeming his paternal estate,—was an unex-
pected and additional blow. When he had seen the war-
rant he could not precisely remember; but was inclined
to think it was in the casket when he took out money to
pay the miser for his lodgings at Whitefriars. Since
then, the casket had been almost constantly under his
own eye, except during the short time he was separated
from his baggage by the arrest in Greenwich Park. It
mizht, indeed, have been taken out at that time, for he
had no reason to think either his person or his property
was in the hands of those who wished him well; but, on
the other hand, the locks of the strong-box had sustained
no violence that he could observe, and, being of a partie-
ular and complicated construction, he thought they could
scarce be opened without an instrument made on purpose,
udapted to their peculiarities, and for this there had been
no time. But speculate as he would on the matter, it was
clear that this important document was gone, and probable
h

that it had passed into no friendly hands. “ Let it be so,

aid Nigel to himself; “I am scarcely worse off respectaT eats

 

Reh
a ete. Ae

&

Pend
+e

ne ON +P

    

NOVELS.

 

BAO WAVERLEY

 

ing my prospects of fortune, than when I first reached
this accursed city. But to be hampered with cruel accu-
sations, and stained with foul sus spicions—to be the object
of pity of the most degr ading kind to yonder honest citi-
zen, and of the malignity of that envious and atrabilarious
courtier, who can endure the good fortune and good qual-
os of another no more than the mole can brook suns shine
bo is indeed a deplorable reflection ; and the conse-
guences must stick to my future life, and impede what-
ever my head, or my land, if it is left me, might be able
to execute in my favour.”

The feeling, that he is the object of general dislike and
dereliction, seems to be one of the most “unendurably pain-
ful to which a human being can be subjected. ‘The most
atrocious criminals, whose nerves have not shrunk from
perpetrating the most horrid cru ielty, suffer more from the
consciousness that no man will sympat ize with their
sufferings, than fron apprehension of the personal agony
of their eg punishment ; and are known often to
attempt to palliate their enormitics eer sometimes alto-
gether to what is established by the clearest proof,
rather than to leave life under the general ban of human-
ity. It was no wonder that ee labouring under the

sense of general, though unjust suspicion, should, while
pondering on so painful a theme, recollect that one, at

L

pa
a J L : “ : ‘ 4
least, had not only believed him innecent, but hazardec
her feeble power, to interpose. in his

herself, with all
behalf.

“Poor ac : ” he repeated ; “poor, rash, but generous
maiden! your fate is that of her in Scottish story, who
thrust her-arm into the staple of the door, ts oppose ‘t as
a bar against the assassins who threatened the murder of

g

3 N Le 1) M1, A al te | y cs ‘ ~ a
her sovere lon. he deed of devotion was useless ; saveTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL.

—

ane
pmoad

to give an immortal name to her by whom it was done,
and whose blood flows, it is said, in the veins of my
house.”

I cannot explain to the reader, whether the recollecticn
ef this historical deed of devotion, and the liv ely effect
which the comparison, a little overstrained perhaps, was
likely to produce in favour of Margaret Ramsay, was not
qualified by the concomitant ideas of ancestry and ancient

escent with which that recollection was mingled. But
the contending feelings suggested a new trait of ideas.—
“ Ancestry,” he thought, “and ancient descent, what are
they to me ?—My patrimony alienated—my title become
a reproach, for what can be so absurd as titled oo
——my character subjected to suspicion,—I will not rema
in this country; and should I, at leaving it, procure -
society of one so lovely, so brave, and so faithful, who
should say that I derogated from the rank which I am
virtually renouncing ?”

There was- something romantic and pleasing, as he
pursued this picture of an attached and faithful pair, be-
coming all the world to each other, and stemming the tide
of fate arm in arm; and to be linked thus with a creature
so beautiful, and who had taken such devoted and dis-
interested concern in his fortunes, formed itself mto such
a vision as romantic a loves best to dwell upon.

dy

Suddenly his dream was painfully dispelled, by the
recollection, that i its very basis rested upon the most self-
ish ingratitude on his own part. Lord of his castle and
his towers, his forests and fields, his fair patrimony and
noble name, his mind would have rejected, as a sort of
impossibility, the idea of elevating to his rank the daugh-
ter of a mechanic; but, when degraded from his nobility,
und plunged into poverty and difficulties, he was ashamed
VOL. XXVIII. 16242 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

to feel himself not unwilling, that this poor girl, in the
blindness of her affection, should abandon all the better
prospects of her own settled condition, to embrace. the
precarious and doubtful course which he himself was con-
demned to. The generosity of Nigel’s mind recoiled from
the selfishness of the plan of happiness which he projected ;
and he made a strong effort to expel from his thoughts for
the rest of the evening this fascinating female, or, at least,
not to permit them to dwell upon the perilous circum-
stance, that she was at present the only creature living
who seemed to consider him as an object of kindness.

He could not, however, succeed in banishing her from
his slumbers, when, after having spent a weary day, he
betook himself to a perturbed couch. The form of Mar-
earet mingled with the wild mass of dreams which his
late adventures had suggested; and even when, copying
the lively narrative of Sir Mungo, fancy presented to
him the. blood bubbling and hissing on the heated iron,
Margaret stood behind him like a spirit of light, to
breathe healing on the wound. At length nature was
exhausted by these fantastic creations, and Nigel slept,
and slept soundly, until awakened in the morning by the
sound of a well-known voice, which had often breken his
slumbers about the same hour.THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL.

CHAPTER XXXI.

Marry, come up, sir, with your gentle blood!

Here’s a red stream beneath this coarse blue doublet,
That warms the heart as kindly as if drawn

From the far source of old Assyrian kings,

Who first made mankind subject to their sway.

Op Puay.

THE sounds to which we alluded in our last, were
10 other than the grumbling tones of Richie Moniplies’s
voice.

This worthy, like some other persons who rank high in
their own opinion, was very apt, when he could have no
other auditor, to hold conversation with one who was sure
to be a willing listener—I mean with himself. He was
now brushing and arranging Lord Glenvarloch’s clothes,
with as much composure and quiet assiduity as if he had
never been out of his service, and grumbling betwixt
whiles to the following purpose ;—“ Humph—ay, time
cloak and jerkin were through my hands—I question if
horse-hair has been passed over them since they and I
last parted. ‘The embroidery finely frayed too—and the
gold buttons of the cloak—By my conscience, and as I
am an honest man, there is a round dozen of them gane!
This comes of Alsatian frolics—God keep us with his
grace, and not give us ove1 to our own devices !—I see
no sword—but that will be in respect of present circum:
stances.”ae eal

er
pe

 

sn eR conaen

D244 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

Nigel for some time could not help believing that he
was still in a dream, so improbable did it seem that his
domestic, whom he sion yosed to be in Scotland, should
have found him out, and obtained access to him, in his

present circumstances. Looking through the curtains,

however, he became well assured of the fa = when he
beheld the stiff and bony length of Richie, ith a visage,

charged with nearly double its ordinary degree of im-
portance, employed sedulously in brushing his master’s
cloak, and refreshing himself with ehisfing or humming,
from interval to interval, some snatch of an old melan-
choly Scottish ballad-tune. Although sufficiently con-
vineed of the identity of the party, Lord Glenvarloch
could not help expressing his surprise in the ae
question—“ In the name of Heaven, Ri chie, is this
vou?”

“ And wha else suld it be, my lord,” answered Richie ;
“1 dreamna that your lordship’s levee in this place is
like to be attended by ony that are not bounden thereto
by duty.”

“J am rather surprised,” answered Nigel, “that it
should be attended by any one at all—especially by you,
Richie; for you know that we pane and I thought you
had reached Scotland long since.’

“T crave your lordship’s pardon, but we have not
parted yet, nor are soon likely so to do; for, there
yang twa folk’s votes to the unmaking of a bargain, as to
the making of ane. Though it was your lordship’s
pleasure so to conduct yourself that we were like to have
parted, yet it was not, on reflection, my will to be gone.
To be plain, if your lordship does not ken when you have
a good servant, I ken when I have a kind master; and
to say truth, you will be easier served now than ever,THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 245

for there is not much chanee of your getting out of
bounds.”

“JT am indeed bound over to good behaviour,’ said
Lord Glenvarloch, with a smile; “but I hope you will
not take advanta ge of my situation to be too severe on

my follies, Richie

mo 08

“ God forbid, my lord—God forbid,’ replied Richie,
with an expression betwixt a conceited consciousness of
superior wisdom and real feeling—* especially in con-
sideration of your lordship’s having a due sense of them.
I did indeed remonstrate, as was my humble duty, but 1]
scorn to cast that up to your lordship now—-Na, na, 1 am
myself an erring creature—very conscious 0 of some small
weaknesses—there is no perfection in man.”

“But, Richie,’ said Lord Glenvarloch, “ although I
am much oblived to you for your proffered service, +t can
be of little use to me here, and may be of prejudice te
yourself.” 7

“ Your lordship shall pardon me again,’ said Richie,
whom the relative situation of the parties had invested
with ten times his ordinary dogmatism; “but as I will
manage the matter, your lordship shall be greatly bene-
fitted by my service, and I myself no whit prejudiced.”

“J see not how that can be, my friend,” said Lord
Glenvarloch, “since even as to your pecuniary at-

 

fairs
«Touching my pecuniars, my lord,’ replied Richie, “1
am es weel prov ided ; and, as it chances, my
living here will be no burden to your lordship, or distress
to a Only I crave ee ion to annex certain
conditions to my serv itude with your lords ships
“ Annex what you will,” said Lord Glenvarloch, “ for

you are pretty sure to take your own way, whevber youa

Ree peta,

SERRE OCR ne

BAG WAVERLEY NOVELS.

make any conditions or not. Since you will not leave
me, which were, I think, your wisest course, you must,
and I suppose will, serve me only on such terms ag you
like yourself.

93

“All that I ask, my lord,” said Richie, gravely, and
with a tone of great moderation, “is to have the uninter-
rupted command of my own motions, for certain important
purposes which I have now in hand, always giving your
lordship the solace of my company and attendance at such
times as may be at once convenient for me, and necessary
for your service.”

“Of which, I suppose, you constitute yourself sole
judge,” replied Nigel, smiling.

“Unquestionably, my lord,” answered Richie, gravely ;
‘for your lordship can only know what yourself want,
whereas I, who see both sides of the picture, ken both
what is the best for your affairs, and what is the most
needful for my own,”

“Richie, my good friend,’ said Nigel, “I fear this
arrangement, which places the master much under the
disposal of the servant, would scarce suit us if we were
eoth at large; but a prisoner as I am, I may be as well
at your disposal as I am at that of so many other per-
sons ; and so you may come and go as you list, for I sup-
pose you will not take my advice, to return to your own
country, and leave me to my fate.”

“The deil be in my feet if I do,” said Moniplies,—* I
ama not the lad to leave your lordship in foul weather,
when I followed you and fed upon you through the whole
bummer day. And besides, there may be brave days
behind, for a’ that has come and gane yet; for

It’s hame, and it’s hame, and it’s hame we fain would be,
Though the cloud is in the lift, and the wind is on the lea;THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 4]

IND

For the sun through the mirk blinks blithe on mine e’e,
Says— [ll shine on ye yet in your ain country!’”

Having sung this stanza in the manner of a ballad-
singer, whose voice has been cracked by matching his
windpipe against the bugle of the north blast, Richie
Moniplies aided Lord Glenvarloch to rise, attended his
toilette with every possible mark of the most solemn and
deferential respect, then waited upon him at breakfast,
and finally withdrew, pleading that he had business of
importance, which would detain him for some hours.

Although Lord Glenvarloch necessarily expected to be
occasionally annoyed by the self-conceit and dogmatism
of Richie Moniplies’s character, yet he could not but feel
the greatest pleasure from the firm and devoted attach-
ment which this faithful follower had displayed in the
present instance, and indeed promised himself an allevia-
tion of the ennui of his imprisonment, in having the ad-
vantage of his services. It was, therefore, with pleasure
that he learned from the warder, that his servant's
attendance would be allowed at all times when the
general rules of the fortress permitted the entrance of
strangers.

In the meanwhile, the magnanimous Richie Moniplies
had already reached Tower Wharf. Here, after looking
with contempt on several scullers by whom he was plied,
and whose services he rejected with a wave of his hand,
he called, with dignity, ‘ First oars!” and stirred into
activity several lounging Tritons of the higher order, who
had not, on his first appearance, thought it worth while to
accost him with proffers of service. He now took posse
sion of a wherry, folded his arms within his ample c “cate
and sitting down ‘n the stern with an air of importance,
commanded them to row to Whitehall Stairs. Havingge

ce.

MOT. Re te ie
SRNR pee eet oe nicinmn get —

 

248 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

reached the Palace in safety, he demanded to see Master
Linklater, the under-clerk of his Majesty’s kitchen. The
reply was, that he was not to be spoken withal, being
then employed in cooking a mess of cock-a-leekie for the
King’s own mouth.

“Tell him,” said Moniplies, “that it is a dear country-
man of his, who seeks to converse with him on matter of
high import.”

“A dear countryman?” said Linklater, when this
pressing message was delivered to him. “ Well, let -him
come in and be d——4d, that I should say sae! This now
is some red-headed, long-legged, gillie-white-foot frae the
West Port, that, hearing of my promotion, is come up to
be a turn-broche, or deputy scullion, through my interest.
It is a great hinderance to any man who would rise in
the world, to have such friends to hang by his skirts, in
hope of being towed: up along with him.—Ha! Richie
Moniplies, man, is it thou? And what has brought ye
here? If they should ken thee for the loon that scared
the horse the other day ! ”»———

“No more o’ that, neighbour,” said Richie,—“ I am just
here on the auld errand—I maun speak. with the King.”

“The King? Ye are red wud,” said Linklater; then
shouted to his assistants in the kitchen, “ Look to the

 

broches, ye knaves—pisces purga—Salsamenta fae mace-
rentur pulchre—I will make you understand Latin, ye
knaves, as becomes the scullions of King James.” Then
in a cautious tone, to Richie’s private ear he continued,
“Know ye not how ill your master came off the other
day !—I can tell you that job made some folks shake for
their office.”

“Weel, but Laurie, ye maun befriend me this time,
and get this wee bit sifflication slipped into his Majesty’sTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 949

ain most gracious hand. I promise you the contents will
be most grateful to him.”

“Richie,” answered Linklater, “you~ have cert ainly
sworn to say your prayers in the porter’s lodge, with your
back bare; and twa grooms, with dog-whips, to cry amen
to you.”

“ Na, na, Laurie, lad,” said Richie, “I ken better what
belangs to sifflications than I did yon day; and ye will
say that yoursell, if ye will but get that bit note to the
King’s hand.”

“J will have neither hand nor foot in the matter,” said
the cautious Clerk of the Kitchen; “but there is his
Majesty’s mess of cock-a-leekie just going to be served to
him in his closet—I cannot prevent you from putting the
letter between the gilt bowl and the platter; his sacred
Majesty will see it when he lifts the ae for he aye
drinks out the broth.”

« Enough said,” replied Richie, and deposited the pape
accordingly, just before a page enter ed to carry away ihe
mess to his Majesty.

« Aweel, aweel, neighbour,” said Lawrence, when the
mess was taken away, “if ye have done ony thing to
bring yoursell to the withy, or the scourging post, it 1s
your ain wilful deed.”

“J will blame no other for it, » said Richie; and with
that undismayed pei rtinacity of conceit, which made a
fundamental part of his character, he abode the issue,
which was not long of arriving.

In a few minutes Maxwell himself arrived in the apart-
ided hastily who had pl laced a writing on

o

ment, and demat
the King’s trencher. Linklater denied all knowledge of
it; but Richie. Moni iplies, stepping boldly
vounced the emphatical confession, “ I am the man.250 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

“Follow me, then,” said Maxwell, after regarding him
with a look of great curiosity.

 

They went up a private staircase,—even that private
staircase, the privilege of which at Court is accounted a
nearer road to power than the grandes entrées themselves.
Arriving in what Richie described as an “ill redd-up ”
anteroom, the usher made a sign to him to stop, while he
went into the King’s closet. Their conference was short,
and as Maxwell opened the door to retire, Richie heard
the conclusion of it.

“Ye are sure he is not dangerous?—I was caught
once.—Bide within call, but not nearer the door than
within three geometrical cubits. If I speak loud, start to
me like a falcon—If I speak loun, keep your lang lugs
out of ear-shot

 

and now let him come in.”

tichie passed forward at Maxwell’s mute signal, and
in a moment found himself in the presence of the King.
Most men of Richie’s birth and breeding, and many
others, would have been abashed at finding themselves
alone with their sovereign. But Richie Moniplies had an
opinion of himself too high to be controlled by any such
ideas; and having made his stiff reverence, he arose once
more into his perpendicular height, and stood before
James as stiff as a hedge-stake.

“Have ye gotten them, man? have ye gotten them ?”
said the King, in a fluttered state, betwixt hope and
eagerness, and some touch of suspicious fear. “Gie me
them—gie me them—before ye speak a word, I charge
you, on your allegiance.”

Richie took a box from his bosom, and, stooping o% one
knee, presented it to his Majesty, who hastily opened it,
and having ascertained that it contained a certain carcanef
bd} rubies, with which the reader was formerly made aeTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 251

quainted, he could not resist falling into a sort of rapture,
kissing the gems, as if they had been capable of feeling,
and repeating again and again with childish dehzht,
“ Onyx cum prole, silexque—Onyx cum prole! Ah, my
bright ane Pe sparklers, my heart loups light to see

you agal n.” He then turned to Richie, upon whose stol-

cal countenance his Majesty’s demeanour had excited
something like a grim smile, which James interrupted his
rejoicing to reprehend, saying, “Take heed, sir, yom are
not to laugh at us—we are your anointed Sovereign.”

“ God forbid that I should laugh!” said Richie, com
posing his countenance into its natural rigidity. “I did
but smile to bring my visage into aor nce and con-
formity with your Majesty’s eI hysiognomy.

eye speak as a dutiful subject, and an honest man,”
said the King; “but what deil’s your name, man ?”

“Even Richie Moniplies, the son of auld Mungo
Moniplies, at the West Port of Edinburgh, who had the
honour to supply your Majesty’s mother’s royal table, as
weel as you Majesty’s, with flesh and other vivers, when
time was.”

“ Aha!” said the King, laughing,—for he possessed, as
a useful attribute of his situation, a tenacious memory,
which recollected every one with whom he was brought
‘nto casual contact,—* Ye are the selfsame traitor who
had weel-nigh coupit us endlang on the causey of our ain
court-yard? but we stuck by our mare. quam memento
rebus in arduis servare. Weel, be not dismayed, Richie ;
for, as many have turned traitors, it is but fair that a tral-
tor, now and then, suld prove to be, contra expectanda, a
true man. How cam ye by our jewels, man?—cam ye
on the part of George Heriot?”

“Tn no sort,” said Richie. “ May it please your Ma:WAVERLEY NOVELS.

jesty, I come as Harry Wynd fought, utterly for my own
hand, and on no man’s errand; as, indeed, I call no one
1p) master, save Him that made me, your most gracious Ma-
| jesty who governs me, and the noble Nigel Olifaunt, Lord
of Glenvarloch, who maintained me as lang as he could
maintain himself, poor nobleman!”

A : “ Glenvarlochides again!” exclaimed the King; “by
my honour, he lies in ambush for us at every corner !—-
Maxwell knocks at the door. It is George Heriot come
Ly | to tell us he cannot find these jewels.—Get thee behind

 

the arras, Richie—stand close, man—sneeze not—cough
ee not—breathe not !—Jingling Geordie is so damnably

ready with his gold-ends of wisdom, and sae cursedly

 

a backward with his gold-ends of siller, that, by our royal
saul, we are glad to get a hair in his neck.”

Richie got behind the arras, in obedience to the com-

mands of the good-natured King, while the Monarch,
who never allowed his dignity to stand in the way of a

ee
AR RE Terr oe

a8

frolic, having adjusted, with his own hand, the tapestry,
so as to complete the ambush, commanded Maxwell to tell
him what was the matter without. Maxwell’s reply was

I aero ey

so low as to be lost by Richie Moniplies, the peculiarity

i i of whose situation by no means abated his curiosity and
ie desire to gratify it to the uttermost.

“ Let Geordie Heriot come in,’ said the King; and,
as Richie could observe through a slit in the tapestry, the
honest citizen, if not actually agitated, was at least dis-
composed. The King, whose talent for wit, or humoar,
was precisely of a kind to be gratified by such a scene as
ensued, received his homage with coldness, and began to
talk to him with an air of serious dignity, very different
from the usual indecorcus levity of his behaviour. “Mas-

g E 5 , 3? . \¢ . tC + Mes y : . ; : 7
ter Heriot,” he said, “if we aright remember, we 9piguo-THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 9538

rated in your hands certain jewels of the Crown, fora
certain sum of money—Did we, or did we not?”

°
|

£55) «7 at — = raat x = S848 99 . e ° .
My most gracious Sovereign, said Heriot, “ indisput-

S

9?

ably your Majesty was pleased to do so.

“The property of which jewels and cimelia remained
with us,” continued the King, in the same solemn tone,
“ subject only to your claim of advance thereupon ; which

advance being repaid, gives us right to re yossession of the

= : as aan
thing opignorated, or pledged, or laid in wad. Voetius,

Vinnius, Groenwigeneus, Pagenstecherus,—all who have
treated de Contractu. Opignerationis, consentiunt in cun-
dem,—gree on the same point. The Roman law, the
English common law, and the municipal law of our ain
neient kingdom of Scotland, though they split in mair
particulars than I could desire, unite as strictly in this as
the three strands of a twisted rope.”

“May it please your Majesty,” replied Heriot, “it
requires not so many learned authorities to prove to any
honest man, that his interest in a pledge is determined
when the money lent is restored.”

“ Weel, sir, I proffer restoration of the sum lent, and I
demand to be repossessed of the jewels pledged with you.
I gave ye a hint, brief while since, that this would be
essential to my service, for, as approaching events are
like to call us into public, it would seem strange if we did
not appear with those ornaments, which are heir-looms
of the Crown, and the absence whereof is like to place
us in contempt and suspicion with our liege subjects.”

Master George Heriot seemed much moved by thi
address of his Sovereign, and replied with emotion, “1
call Heaven to witness that I am totally harmless in this
matter, and that I would willingly lose the sum advanced,
so that I could restore those jewels, the absence of whichmmm ces

254 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

your Majesty so justly laments. Had the a remained
with me, the account of them would be easil y rendered ;
but your Majes a will do me the justice ie remember,
that, by your express order, I transferred them to another
person, who adponced a ae: sum, just about the time
of my departure for Paris. The money was pressingly
wanted, and no other means to come by it occurred to
me. J told your Majesty, when I brought the needful
er that the man from whom the monies were ob-
tained, was of no good repute; and your most princely
answer was, smelling to the gold—Won olet, it smells net
of the means that have gotten it.”

“Weel, man,” said the King, “but what needs a’ this
din? If ye gave my jewels in ple dge to such a one, suld
ye not, as a liege subject, have taken care that the re-
demption was in our power? And are we to suffer the
loss of our e¢melia by your neglect, besides bei ng exposed
to the scorn sie censure of our lieges, and of the for elon
ambassadors

“My Lor a and liege King,” said Heriot, “ God knows,
if my bearing blame or shame in this matter would keep
it from your Majes sty, it were my duty to endure both, as
a servant grateful for many benefits; but when your
Majesty considers the violent death of the man himself,
the disappearance of his daughter, and of his wealth, q
trust you will remember that I warned your Majesty, i
humble duty, of the possibility of such casualties, S
prayed you not to urge me to dish with him on your
behalf.”

“But you oe t me nae better means,” said the King
—* Geordie, ye brought me nae better means. I was like
a deserted man; what could I do but grip to the first sillez
(hat offered, as a drowning man gasps to the willow-wandTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL.

that comes readiest ?—And now, man, what for have ye
not brought back the jewels? they are surely above
ground, if ye wad make strict search.”

“All strict search has been made, may it please your
Majesty,” replied the citizen; “hue and cry has been
sent out every where, and it has been found impossible
to recover them.”

“Difficult, ye mean, Geordie, not impossible,” replied
the King; “for that whilk is impossible, is either natur-
ally so, exempli gratia, to make two into three; or mor-
ally so, as to make what is truth falsehood ; but what is
only difficult may come to pass, with assistance of wisdom
and patience; as, for example, Jingling Geordie, look
here!” And he displayed the recovered treasure to the
eyes of the astonished jeweller, exclaiming with great
triumph, “ What say ye to that, Jingler ?—By my sceptre
and crown, the man stares as if he took his native prince
for a warlock ! us, that are the very malleus maleficarum,
all witches,

>

o» hammer otf

é

the contunding and contrituratin
sorcerers, magicians, and the like; he thinks we are
taking a touch of the bl: ck art oursells!—But gang thy
way, honest Geordie; thou art a good plain man, but
nane of the seven sages of Greece; gang thy way, and
mind the soothfast word which you spoke, small time
syne, that there ‘3 one in this land that comes near u
Solomon, King of Israel, in all his gifts, except in his
love to strange women, forbye the daughter of Pharaoh.”

If Heriot was surprised at seeing the jewels so unex-
pectedly produced at the moment the- King was upbraid-
ing hin for the loss of them, this allusion to the reflection
with Lord Glen-

which had escaped him while conversing
hment; and the

varloch, altogether completed his astonis
King was so delighted with the superiority which 1t gave2 RR tae | Ae

FRM TE = deg tit

ern nn

Seat

256 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

him at the moment, that he rubbed his hands, chuckled,
and, finally, his sense of dignity giving way to the full
feeling of triumph, he threw himself into his easy chair,
and laughed with unconstrained violence till he lost his
breath, and the tears ran plentifully down his cheeks as
he strove to recover it. Meanwhile, the royal cachinna-
tion was echoed out by a discordant and portentous laugh
from behind the arras, like that of one who, little accus-
tomed to give way to such emotions, feels himself at some
particular impulse unable either to control or to modify
his obstreperous mirth. Heriot turned his head with
new surprise towards the place, from which sounds se
unfitting the presence of a monarch seemed to burst with
such emphatic clamour.*

* The practical jest of Richie Moniplies going behind the arras to
get un opportunity of teasing Heriot, was a pleasantry such as James
might be supposed to approve of. It was customary for those who
knew his humour to contrive jests of this kind for his amusement.
The celebrated Archie Armstrong, and another jester called Drum-
mond, mounted on other people’s backs,used to charge each other
like knights in the tilt-yard, to the monarch’s great amusement. The
following is an instance of the same kind taken from Webster upon
Witchcraft. The author is speaking of the faculty called ventril-
oquism.

“ But to make this more plain and certain, we shall add a story of
a notable impostor, or ventriloquist, from the testimony of Mr. Ady,
which we have had confirmed from the mouth of some courtiers, that
both saw and knew him, and is this:—It hath been (saith he) credibly
reported, that there was a man in the court in King James his days,
that could act this imposture so lively, that he could eall the King by
name, and cause the King to look round about him, wondering who it
was that called him, whereas he that called him stood before him in
his presence, with his face towards him. But after this imposture
was known, the King, in his merriment, would sometimes take occa-
sionally this impostor to make sport upon some of his courtiers, as,
for instance :—

~ There was a knight belonging to the court, whom the King caused
to come before him in his private room, (where no man was but theBi 2 ESE DONE RE

     
 
 
 
   
 
 
   
  
 
 
  
 
  
 
  
 
  
  
 
 
  
   
   
   
 
  
 
   
    
 
 
    

THE FORTUNES OF NIGE 257

The King, too, somewhat sensible of the indecorum.
rose up, wiped his eyes, and calling.—* Todlowrie, come
out o’ your den,” he produced from behind the arras the
length of Richie Moniplies, still laughing with as unre-
strained mirth as ever did ae at a country christening.

ca. -
Whisht, man, whisht, man,” said the King; “ye needna

t= 9

+

nicher that gait, like a cusser at a caup o cor, e’en
though it was a pleasing jest, and our ain framing. And
yet to see Jingling Geordie, that hauds himself so much
the wiser than other folks—to see him, ha! ha! ha!—in

the a of Euclio apud Plautum, distressing himself to

 

recover what was lying at his elbow

é a = ee ° ° ‘ 4
Perii, interii, occidi—quo curram? quo non curram ?—

5

Tene, tene—quem? quis? nescio—unihil video.’
Ah! Geordie, your een are sharp enough to look after
gowd and Salven gems, rubies, and the like of that, and
1

yet ye kenna how to come by them when they are lost.—

King, and this knight. and the impostor,) and feigned some occasion
of serious discourse with the knight; but when the King began to
speak, and the knight bending his attention to the King, suddenly
there came a voice as out of another room, calling the knight by
name, ‘Sir John, Sir John; come away, Sir John;’ at which the
knight began to frown that any man should be so unmannerly as to

molest-the King and him; and still listening to the King’s discourse,
the vcice came , again, ‘Sir John, Sir John; come away and drink off
your sack.’ At that Sir John began to swell with anger, and looked

nto the next rooms to see who it was that dared to call him so impor-
aoe and could not find out who it was, and having chid with
whomsoever he found, he returned again to the King. The King had
no sooner begun to speak as omnes but ie voice came again, ‘Sil
John, come away, your sack stay reth for you.’ At that Sir John began
to stamp with madness, and x yoked ont and returned several tim es ta

the King, but could not be quiet in his discourse with the King, be-
cause of the voice that so often troubled him, till the King had sported
nough.’’ WEBSTER 07 Witchcraft, p. 124.

47

VOL. XXVIII. =}me ee

=

SR LSE Rel

ACR

oy

a

> ASO

no ae eae

 

gent

258 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

Ay, ay—look at them, man—look at them—they are a
right and tight, sound and round, not a doublet crept in
amongst them.”

George Heriot, when his first surprise was over, was
too old a courtier to interrupt the King’s imaginary tri-
umph, although he darted a look of some displeasure at
honest Richie, who still continued on what is usually
termed the broad grin. He quietly examined the stones,
and finding them all perfect, he honestly and sincerely
congratulated his Majesty on the recovery of a treasure
which could not have been lost without some dishonour
to the crown; and asked to whom he himself was to pay
the sums for which they had been pare observing that
he had the money by him in readiness

“Ye are in a deevil of a hurry, when there is paying
in the case, Geordie,” said the King.—“What’s a’ the
haste, man? The jewels were restored by an honest,
kindly countryman of ours. There he stands, and wha
kens if he wants: the money os the nail, or if he might
not be as weel pleased wi’ a bit rescript on our treasury
some six months hence? Ye ken that our Exchequer is
even at a low ebb just now, and ye cry pay, pay, pay, as
if we had all the mines of Ophitz.’

“Please your Majesty,” said Heriot, “if this man has

a/

the real right to these moneys, it is doubtless at his will
to grant forbearance, if he willl But when I remember
the guise in which I first saw him, with a tattered cloak
and a broken head, I can hardly conceive it.—Are not
you Richie ae with the King’s favour ?”

Nh T ¥
Vi ay of
JY a i i

Heriot—of the ancient and honour-

the West Pert of

“ Even sae, Maste
able house gr Castle Collop, near
oh,

Edinbur:

Ww hy: nlpase your Majesty, he is a poor serving-man,

answered Richie.a a a eats

  
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
   
 
  
 
 
 
   
 
  
  
  
  
  
 
    

THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 959

said Heriot. “This money can never be honestly at his
disposal.”

“ What for no?” said the King. ‘“ Wad ye have nae-
body spraickle up’ the brae but yoursell, Geordie Pe Your
ain cloak was thin enough when ye cam here, though ye
have lined it gay and weel. And for serving-men, there
has mony a red-shank come over the Tweed wi his mas-
ter’s wallet on his shoulders, that now rustles it wi his
six followers behind him. There stands the man himsell ;
speer at him, Geordie.”

“His may not be the best authority in the case,”
answered the cautious citizen.

“Tut, tut, man,” said the King, “ ye are over scrupu-
lous. The knave deer-stealers have an apt phrase, Non
est inquirendum unde ventt VENISON. He that brings
the gudes hath surely a right to dispose of. the, sears
Hark ye, friend, speak the truth and shame the deil.
Have ye plenary powers to dispose on the redemption-
money, as to delay of payments, or the like, ay or no?”

“Full power, an it lke your gracious Majesty,” an-
swered Richie Moniplies; “and I am maist willing to
subscrive to whatsoever may in ony wise accommodate
your Majesty, anent the redemption-money, trusting your
Majesty’s grace will be kind to me in one sma’ favour.”

“ Ky, man,” said the King, “come ye to me there? I
thought ye wad e’en be like the rest of them.—One would
think our subjects’ lives and goods were all our ain, and
holden of us at our free-will; but when we stand in need
of ony matter of siller from them, which chances more
frequently than we would it did, deil a boddle is to be
had, save on the auld terms of giffgaff. It is just niffer
Aweel, neighbour, what is it that ye want—

 

for niffer.

son:3 monopoly, I reckon ? Or it may be a grant ol kirka

NORE

er”

 

 

260 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

lands and teinds, or a knighthood, or the like? Ye maun
be reasonable, unless ye propose to advance more money
for our present occasions.”

“My liege,” answered Richie Moniplies, “the owner
of these moneys places them at your Majesty’s command,
free of all pledge or usage as long as it is your royal
pleasure, pruviding your Majesty will condescend to show
some favour to the noble Lord Glenvarloch, presently
prisoner in your Royal Tower of London.”

“ How, man—how, man—how, man!” exclaimed the
King, reddening and stammering, but with emotions more
noble than those by which he was sometimes agitated—
“What is it that you dare to say to us >— “Se ll our justice !
sell our mercy !

 

 

and we a crowned King, sworn to do
justice to our su ubjects in the gate, and responsible for our
stewardship to Him that is over all kings ?”—Here he
reverently looked up, touched his bonnet, and continued
with some sharpness,—“ We dare not traffic in such com-
modities, sir; and, but that ye are a poor ignorant-cre
ture, that have done us this day some not unpleasant
service, we wad have a red iron driven through your
tongue, an terrorem of others.—Awa with him, Geordie,
—pay him, awe and bawbee, out of our moneys in your
hands, and let them care that come ahint.”

Richie, who h - counted with the utmost certainty upon
the success of this master-stroke of policy, was like an
architect whose whole scaffolding: at once gives way under
him. He caught, however, at what he thought might
break his fall. “ Not only the sum for w hich the jew els
were pledged,” he said, “but the double of it, if required,
should be placed at his Majesty’s command, and even
without; hope or condition of repayment, if only ”-—-~

But the King did not allow him to complete the senTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 26)

lence, crying out, with greater vehemence than before, as

if he dreaded the stability of his own good resolutions,—
« Awa wi’ him—swith-awa wi’ him! It is time he were
gane, if he doubles his bode that gate. And, for your
life, letna Steenie, or ony of them, hear a word from his
mouth; for wha kens what trouble that might bring me
into !—WNe inducas in tentationem— Vade retro, Satha-
nas !—Amen.”

In obedience to the royal mandate, George Heriot
hurried the abashed petitioner out of the presence, and
out of the Palace; and, when they were in the Palace-
yard, the citizen remembering, with some resentment, the
airs of equality which Richie had assumed towards him
in the commencement of the scene which had just taken
place, could not forbear to retaliate, by congratulating
him with an ironical smile on his favour at Court, and his
improved grace in presenting.a supplication.

“ Never fash your beard about that, Master George
Heriot,” said Richie, totally undismayed; “but tell me
when and where I am to sifflicate you for“eight hundred
pounds sterling, for which these jewels stood: engaged ?”

“The instant that you bring with you the real owner
of the money,” replied Heriot; * whom it is important
that I should see on more accounts than one.”

«Then will I back to his Majesty,” said Richie Moni-
plies, stoutly, “and get either the money or the pledge
back again. J am fully commissionate to act in that
matter.”

“Ji may be so, Richie,” said the citizen, “and per-
chance it may not be so neither, for your tales are not all
gospel ; and, therefore, be assured I will see that it 2s so,
ere I pay you that large sum of money. I shall give you
an acknowledgment for it, and I will keep it prestable aiHeatae at A 7
pnt OEE ECC

ee ier ed

+ ete ania

262 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

a moments warning. But, my good Richard Moniplies,
of Castle Collops, near the West Port of Edinburgh, in
the meantime I am bound to return to his Majesty on
matters of weight.” So speaking, and mounting the stair
to re-enter the palace, he added, by way of summing up
the whole,— George Heriot is over old a cock to be
eaught with chaff.”

Richie stood petrified when he beheld him re-enter the
Palace, and found himself, as he supposed, ieft in the
lurch.—“ Now, plague on ye,” he muttered, “for a cun-
ning auld skin-flint! that, because ye are an honest man
yoursell, forsooth, must needs deal with all the world as
if they were knaves. But deil be in me if ye beat me
yet !—Gude guide us! yonder comes Laurie Linklater
next, and he will be on me about the siffication.—I winna
stand him, by Saint Andrew !”

So saying, and changing the haughty stride with which
he had that morning entered the precincts of the Palace,
into a skulking shamble, he retreated for his wherry,
which was in attendance, with speed which, to use the
approved phrase on such occasions, greatly resembled a

flight.THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 263

CHAPTER XXXII.

Benedict.—This looks not like a nuptial

Mucs Apo about NOTHING.

Master GEORGE HERIOT had no sooner returned ¢

©

the King’s apartment, than James inquired ot "Maxwell if
the Earl of Huntinglen was in attendance, and, receiving

an answer in the affirmative, desired that he should be

admitted. The old Scottish lord having made his rever-
ence in the usual manner, the King « exiended his hand to

be kissed, and then began to address him in a tone of
grave sympathy.

“We told your lordship in our secret epistle of this
morning, written Ww rith our ain hand, in testimony we have
neither pretermitte ed nor forgotten your faithful service,
that we had that to communicate to you that sold re-
quire both patience and fortitude to endure, and theretore
assagves

he ba ek

ie eres tN Mis. a :
may be, as we say, fitted for the burden. ‘This we com-

exhorted you to peruse some ot the most pithy

pe
of Seneca, and of Boethius de OConsolatione, that t

mend to you from our ain experience.

‘Non ignara mali, miseris succurrere e disco,’

] { OO 7 Nn T nHNercol N07
sayeth Dido, and I might say in my own person, 70R

tho 5a Year LE ld . tee tne
egnarus; but to change the gender would ¢ affect the

prosody, whereof our southern subjects are tenaciousI SO

gee et

 

 

264 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

So, my Lora of Huntinglen, I trust you have acted by
our advice, and studied patience before ye need it—
venientt occurrite morbo—mix the medicament when the
disease is coming on.”

“May it please your Majesty,’ answered Lord Hun-
tinglen, “I am more of an old soldier than a scholar—
and if my own rough nature will not bear me out in any
calamity, I hope I shall have grace to try a text of
Scripture to boot.”

“ Ay, man, are you there with your bears?” said the
King; “the Bible, man,’ * (touching his cap,) “is indeed
principium et fons—but it is pity your lordship cannot
peruse it in the original. or although we did ourselves
promote that work of translation,—since ye may read, at
the beginning of every Bible, that when some palpable
clouds of darkness were thought like to have overshad-
owed the land, after the setting of that bright occidental
star, Queen Elizabeth; yet our appearance, like that of
the sun in his strength, instantly dispelled these surmised
mists,—I say, that although, as therein mentioned, we
countenanced the preaching of the gospel, and especially
the translation of the REET RE out of the original
sacred tongues; yet, nevertheless, we ourselves confess
to have found a comfort in consulting them in the original
Hebrew, whilk we do not perceive even in the Latin
version of the Septuagint, much less in the English
traduction.”

“Please your Majesty,’ said Lord Huntinglen, “if

wid

your Majesty delays communicating the bad news with

which your hono ie letter threatens me, until I am
eapable to read Hebrew like your Majesty, I fear I shall

die in Le of the misfortune which hath befallen, o1
is about to befall, my house.”THE FORTI

Oo

1
hy
SLi266 WAVERLEY NOVELS

connected with it, which, when she came to Paris, and
just before I saw her, she had deposited with a corre-
spondent of her father in that city. He became after-
wards bankrupt, and in consequence of that misfortune
the ludy’s papers passed into other hands, and it was only a
few days since I traced and recovered them. Without
these documents of evidence, it would have been im-
prudent for her to have preferred her complaint, favoured
as Lord Dalgarno is by sone friends.”

“Ye are saucy to say said the King; “I ken
what ye mean weel ake think Siesok wad hae
putten the weight of his foot into the scales of justice, and
garr’d them whomle the bucket—ye forget, Geordie, wha
it is whose hand uphaulds them. And ye do poor Steenie
the mair wrang, for he confessed at ance before us and
our privy council, that Dalgarno would have put the
quean aff on him, the puir simple bairn, making him trow
that she was a light-o’-love; in whilk mind he remained

from her, albeit Steenie

assured even when he parted
might hae weel thought ane of thae cattle wadna hae
resisted the like of him.”

“The Lady Hermione,” said George Heriot, “has
always done the utmost justice to the conduct of the Duke,
who, although strongly possessed with prejudice against
her character, yet scorned to avail himself of her distress,
and on the contrary supplied her with the means of
extricating herself from her difficulties.”

“Tt was e’en like himsell—blessings on his bonny
face!” said the King; “and I believed this lady’s tale

the mair readily, my Lord Huntinglen, that she spake
= ® . oe dee sean s is ia yj 7

naé ill of Steenie—and to make a lang tale short, my lord,

it is the opinion of our council and ourself, as weel as of

eRe Ms . : wk ; < 4
Baby Charles and Sikente. that your son maun amendTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL.

his wrong by wedding this lady, or undergo such disgra
and discountenance as we can bestow.”
The person to whom he spoke was incapable of an-

asi era H rer 7:

warring him ty af f , = en aera

swering him. e stood before the King n otionless, and
? . e -

ei yy Yr wt awac.at wrhirek t Fe the slidice SwWA a ae

elaring with eyes: ol which even the hds seemed immov-

5
= es i . tod ee ey a eS Ss eee 2: a Me
able, as if suddenly converted into an ancient statue of

the times of chivalry,

J

cm

Wierd ey ST alse igGs joer
so instantly had his hard features

and strong limbs been arrested into rigidity by th

A

e
he had received—And in a second afterwards, like the

same statue when the lightning breaks upon it, he sunk at
once to the ground with a heavy groan. The King was

in the utmost alarm, called upon Heriot and Maxwell for

help, and, presence of mind not being his forte, ran to
and fro in his cabinet, exclaiming,—“ My ancient and
beloved servant—who saved our anointed self! Ve
atque dolor! My Lord of Huntinglen, look up—look up
man, and your son may marry the Queen of Sheba if he
will.”

By this time Maxwell and Heriot had EPS the old
nobleman, and placed him on a chair; ¥ while the King,
observing that he began to recover himself, continued his
consolations mor methodically.

“ Haud up yom head—haud up

If

it comesna empty- handed—there is siller to gild it—a

to your ain kind native Prince

= ° te 48 ee
gude tocher, and no that bad a pedigree;—ii she has
: ye ant?

been a loon, it was your son made her sae, an d he can

make her an honest woman again

 

1 } } s L 2 > YWE CLTR

‘ = pe + + if y na Taven »F

These sugemestions, no er reasonable in the common
q/Cc/

Te £2 3S J J eo

i 7 > ai moeeg me

ease, gave no eomfort to ee tu ntinglen, , lt indeed he

j 7 A ad Rion

a | 3+ ¢ha - mynhearnns yi nis

fully comprel ended them; but tne blubbering or nis

Biss 0 sti master, which began to accompany and

interrupt his royal speech, produced more rap nid effectweet

crate

1 SR

268 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

The large tear gushed reluctantly from his eye as he
kissed the withered | pals which the King, weeping with
less dignity and 1

- a) Ss Te
once him, first alter-

   

nate

    

man, be patient ;—the

Steenie, may a’ gang to
a ¥ YQ ©

 

Cee eee AeA apr oo

her since 1t moves you so deeply.
cE oT tril. (Ne OY 29 <i cl x Waa
“He shall marry her, by (70d: answered the Karl,

.

drawing himself up, dashing the tear from his eyes, and

o ee)
endeavouring to recover his composure. “I pray your
Majesty’s pardon, but he shall marry her, with her dis-

1 ? 7 . .
honour for her dowery, were she the veriest courtezan in

Caer SPA fe a aes ot. sf aS te
all Spain—If he gave his word, he shall make his word

 

good, were it to the meanest creature that haunts the
streets

 

he shall do it, or my own dagger shall take the

<

life that I gave him. If he could stoop to use so base a

    

  

5 q : ° ° ; - ara Jer ”
: } , { nereearive wntan r tot X4T ay y
fraud, though to deceive infamy, let him wed infamy.
ww e/ a
66 NT +}? 4] mMmanarnl Antin A wid > + 66 +} 7 >
No, no: the monaren cont inuea to insinuate, LOIN GS:
3
i a ae s er? pan lig
as thaiti—steenie himself never thougcni
oe Sa eek : de. eed Ln
treet r, even wnen he Houchnt tae
. 4 7 2
VOIrSL Ut rit
66 Tf ‘ é ' VU { f Taint
i i al LAL alli MISO Ly Ora Of UNTO
SL 3 5 h ilis 4 S O0G As
3
Rie +67 > } ne,”
ANG MOSt tair and 1 LES POL U idthl©.

+3 if asd (<6 Ly ran fnroi > for hey
rupting hin Iseli, he saia—** Fleaven forgive me TO] pein

oe for such comfort !—but I am wel

should be as you represent her, so much better thansaraeroten ag

270 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

ye ken all the privy doings of our court, and have duns
so these thirty years, though, like a wise man, ye hear,

 

Se soe ek ee ee ee

and see, and say nothing. Now, there is a thing I fain
‘ eee as sae brad “4

of philosophical inquiry—Did you

peed

hile Lady Huntinglen, the departed

 

rN SS ge TE ie rs
Ci noble Earl, ganging a wee bit gleed in
ky ll, + rnitah thc 1A T y an hak } » TT 7 reas
her walk through the world; I mean in the way of slip-
ete tie 1 f8) ca ee oy Soe hte Poga| see es Ah ge =
ping a foot, casting a leglin-girth,* or the like, ye under-
a c © © oO

«Ont my word as an honest paps said George Heriot,
somewhat surprised at the question, “I never heard her
wronged by the slightest breath of suspicion. She was a
worthy lady, very circumspect in her walk, and lived in
great concord with her husband, save that the good Coun-
tess was something of a puritan, and kept more company
with ministers than was altogether agreeable to Lord
Huntinglen, who is, as your Majesty well LORS: a man
of the old rough world, that will drink and swear.’

“OQ Geordie!” exclaimed the King, “these are auld-
warld frailties, of whilk we dare not pronounce even our-
selves absolutely free. But the warld> grows worse from
day to day, Geordie. The juveniles of this. age may
weel say with the poet—

‘ Htas parentum, pejor avis, tulit

“eo

Nos nequiores ’—

) = : ao PMA x n+ St -r an ™M 1 * 7Taara ry p y
This Dalgarno does not drink so much, or swear so much,
* A leglin-girth is the lowest hoop upon a leglin, or milk-pail

‘LP ine hanhead La eae ntanhorical sange
Aslan | Ram say applies the porase in the same metaphorical sense:

‘Qr bairns can read, they first maun spell
ZT learn’d this frae my mammy

And cast a leglin-girth mysell,
Lang ere I married Tammie.’

Christ’s Kirk on the Green.THE FORTUNES

as his father; but he wenches, Geordie, and he breaks
his word and oath baith. AS to what you say of the
leddy and the ministers, we are a’ fallible creatures

Geordie, priests and kings, as weel as others; and wha

3

Kens but what that may account for the difference between
this Dalgarno and his father? The Earl is the vera sou!

of honour, and. cares nae mair for warld’s gear than a
noble hound for the quest of a foulmart; but as for his

3

son, he was like to brazen us a’ out—ourselves, Steenie,
Baby Charles, and our council—till he heard of the tocher,

. and then, by my kingly crown, he lap like a ns at a
erossart! These are discrepancies betwixt

pd
Q
as
ee
=~
“8
CD
ne
=m)
a
=
_
f2

p=

} | y ys} y RRR siege Jon
son not to be seca for naturally, according tc Bees

tista Porta, Michael Scott de secretzs, and others.—Ah

7
e e L SSN eDiets ene See
Jingling Geordie, if your clouting the caldron, ana jing-

ling on pots, pans, and vessels of all manner ot metal,
hadna jingled a’ your grammar out ot your head, I coul

Heriot was 5 100 plain-spoken to express much concern

have touched on that matter to you at mair len

: } 5 Q cy e } FT
for the loss of his grammar learning on this occé asion ; but
y
1

after eae hinting that he hac
{ 1} 3 ) atc ei Se a eat } mat
could not fill their eves bonnet, though no one had

been suspected of wearing their father’s nightcap, he in
Sai Th ee eee caritand tacaoactie
quired “ whether Lord Dalgarno had consented to do the

Lady Hermione justice.”
Peg a a ee Na Aten he
3 ft roth, LicAld tf llaVvVo hist AU a Tit

    
    
 

- aa
i”Cpara reaqdin<e rt
\s ral @ Tread 2 it j

1 1 Cy fa seco 1
Charles and Steenie his duty before hin

BACALL A nm AS 4 h u NS
eae eae - 4 } ytoean 3 Tr x é ne
he ¢ an resist doin’ what wey aesire iii ki
Caran z = = to) ev

1A 4 } a. £1 Ane teZ 4: \ { ( }

would teacon me the Pale vi ie ty rEOrale,your

intananra
ULI LO HMALUTren aa VTE

B74 WAVERLEY NOVELS

noble, or I read wrong, Giovanni Pauletti, of the House
of Sansovino, in Genoa, and of the no less noble Lady
Maud Olifannt, of the House of Glenvarloch—Well, I

1
1 7 Let Serene es 4 EN
eclare that I was _pre-contracted in $

] 2 that I was pre-contracted Spain to this noble
lady, and there has passed betwixt us some certain pre-

hbatio matrimoni ; aaa now, sili more does this grave
assembly require of me Pace

“'That you should repair the gross and infamous wrong
you have done the lady, by marrying her within this
hour,” said the Prince.

29

“QO, may it please your Royal Highness,” answered
Dalgarno, “I have a trifling relationship with an old
Earl, who calls himself my father, who may claim some
vote in the matter. Alas! every son is not blessed with
an obedient parent.” He Baath a slight glance. towards

the throne, to give meaning to his last words.

“We have spoken oeece with Lord Huntinglen,”
said the King, “and are authorized to consent in his
name.”

“JT could never have expected — intervention of a

7

proxaneta, which the vulgar translate blackfoot, of such
eminent dignity,” said Dalgarno, scarce concealing a
sneer. “And my father hath consented? He was wont
to say, ere we left Scotland, that the blood of Huntinglen
and of Glenvarloch would not mingle, were inane
into the same basin. Perhaps he has a mind to try the
experime nt?”

“My lord,” said James, “we will not be longer trifled

, Ry 1 : ; e :
with— Will you instantly, and sine mora, take this lads
. 3
o your wite, in ch
tc ee Earn <anstinios  ancueeade Rha ee
LAINE ALGue WNStANIET, ANSW ered Lord Dalgarno ;

f

*for, I perceive, by doing so, I shall obtain power to
render great services to the commonwealth—I shall haveTHE FORTUNES OF

 
  
  
  
 
  
  
 
 
 
  
 
 
  

acquired wealth to supy ply the wants of your Majesty, and

a fair wife to be at the command of his Grace of Buck-

e 93
ingham.”

hatred, he poit nted the

QO
©
S
yeas
C25
¢ Pp
2 )
/
CD

hilt of his sword, but in a manner which ¢
observed by any one save Buckin
gave him another smile of bitter scorn, and returned to

e- a e a ph = 3 he Pat Ta ve
11S Sek in obedience to the commands of the King, who
S:
lithip Aaks ae Qh eet SS ee eee
continued ¢ a 1g out, Sit down, Steenie, sit down, I

Sea ar

 

“Your Majesty ae not fear my patience,” said Lord
} r re Ss } ot WY) OU r¢ Y ; 4+ha } att 2 a
Dalgarno; “and that I may keep it the better, 1 wil

utter another word

 
 
 
  
    

oe are a
King; “and were
rather brook

com.NY
~]

'6 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

t

e entrance, which
ant. The Bishop

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

   

F
ae
aa
ge
as
e ¥
{ Cc] ; cage 99 1 7] tT
XY ee 5 YA f nie HwoacT wy aA aat 66 he
5 Ve i OWE LO DIS AJESTY S she sald, tne
‘ s o/ /
é °

 

ae

SP ne F a

esta

EERIE

= Nene

SO SENS TE

 

 

} ‘
rNeAW W497 TY ‘ ,Q Ql
tne y lid il I OL
« e
VV 7 >
BY f i
A. - ¢

:

men + , }

2 PEL CM Lic 1 A

t

t » Z >

SEU Y A A sf

f 9:94 b  ¢ i

~
‘

  

ped
ao

concludecTHE FORTUNES OF

salute the a but seeing that she drew back in fear
and abhorrence, he contented himself with making her a

em T Sai se a
low bow. a ete drew up his form to its height, and

 

7 Ld ee eee ie oe Ce aoe Ee al oe a i }
Methinks it is but decent 1 enguig know. Is eae to be

‘ { . 99
citizen, as oe. ——.
CT Tee 5 - 7 sQ740] *(
“ Hold thy base, ribald tongue!” said his father, Lord
T : $ oat Stee ee
Huntinglen, who had kept in the background during the
ceremony, and now stepping suddenly forward, caught
\ ta har th > VT 1 2A) fs ¥ nA Lh > + xT saat lh Tr } 1a
the lady by the arm, and confronted her unworthy Dus-
] cern Ves dic a er 0g PB a Se a UC pall bees
band.—“The Lady Dalgarno,” he continued, * shall re-
et ea a ces dre an pi house A widow I esteem her
main aS a W1dGOW 10 iy 10use. A WIGOW £ @stCcili ul,
7 1 et 7 Vest ey se 7 aa USAT as Ae ya
as much as if the grave had closed over her aishonoured
Bee et 93
husband.

   

We nae e nn
Lord vatee rnoi RRR ENO ID

278 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

But James, who took the interest of a true gossip in
such a scene as was now passing, could not bear to cut
the controversy short, but imposed silence on his ‘son

sy }
with “ Whisht,

‘
pam
{ )

7 ' x : oy 1. e
JAaAries——-tOere 18° a FOOd~ 0alrn.

 

= f oT: L ye ne aa! re ee a a7 ee Pe —
whisht ——-i want to hear what the frontiess loon C2n

sf Only, sir,” said Dal
line in this schedule, all else that it contains could not
have bribed me to take that woman’s hand into mine.”

“That line maun have been the swmma totalis,” said
the King.

“Not so, sire,” replied Dalgarno. “The sum total
might indeed have been an object for consideration even
to a Scottish king, at no very distant period ; but it would
have had little charms for me, save that I see here an
entry which gives me the power of vengeance over the
family of Glenvarloch; and learn from it that yonder
pale bride, when she put the wedding-torch into my hand,
gave me the power of burning her mother’s house to
ashes !”

“How is that?” said the King. “ What is he speak
ing about, Jingling Geordie?”

“This friendly citizen, my liege,” said Lord Dalgarno,
“hath expended a sum belonging to my lady, and now, I
thank Heaven, to me, in acquiring a certain mortgage, or
wadset, over the estate of Glenvarloch, which, if it be not
redeemed before to-morrow at noon, will put me in pos-
sesion of the fair demesnes of those who onee called

&

themselves our house’s rivals.”

“ Can this be true?” said the King.
“It is even but too true, please your Majesty,” an-
swered the citizen. “The Lady Hermione having
advanced the money for the original creditor, I wasTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 279

Mm

pbliged, in honour and honesty, to take the rights to her;

at 4

Ma Tal ite
and, doubtless, they pass to her husband.”

66 2454 tha Be era eae ee 99
But the warrant, man, said the Kin 1g—* the warrant

9

on our Exchequer—Couldna that supply the lad wi
means of redemption ? ”
“ Unhappily, my liege, he has lost it, or disposed of 1t

—Tit is not to be found. He is the most unlucky youth!”
§ 99

“This is a proper spot of work!” said the King, be-

=)

ginning to amble about and play with the points of his

aS

doublet and hose, in expression of dismay, © We cannot
aid him without paying our debts twice over, and we
have, in the present state of our Exchequer, scarce the
means of paying them once.”

“ You have told me ote said Lord Dalgarno, “but I
will take no advantage.

“Do not,” said his father; “ be a bold villain, since
thou must be one, and seek revenge Ww! ith arms, and not
with the usurer’s weapons.”

“ Pardon me, my lord,” sa id Lord Dalgarno. “ Pen
and ink are now my surest means of vengeance; and
more land is won by the lawyer with the ram-skin, than by
the Andrea Ferrara with his sheepshead handle. But,
as I said before, I will take no advantages. I will await
in town to-morrow, near Covent-Garden ; if any one will
pay the redemption-moncy to my scrivener, with wi
the deeds lie, the better for Lord Glenvarloch; if not, I

Aly}

: i ee -
will go forward on the next day, and travel with all ae-
‘ , } ° bb)

spatch to the n rorth, to take possession.
f+] *41 en a aA
“ Take a father’s malison with you, u unhappy wretch :
said Lord ae ntinglen.

—
+

 

rr

ss And a King D9
“J trust to bear poll lightly,” said Lord Dalgarno ;

5 : : mile & 1] res
and bowing around him, he withdrew; while all present,

 

who is pater pairre, ” said svames.280 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

oppressed, and, as it were, overawed by his determined
elfrontery, found they could draw breath more freely,
when he at length relieved hem of his society.. Lord
Huntinglen, applying hims ue to comfort his new daugh-

ter-in-law, withdrew avi Her also; and the King, with
his privy ee whom he had not Pees: again re-

turned to his
usually late. Heriot’s attendance was still commanded,

but for what reason was not ex ed to him.THE FORTU INE ES OF NIGEL.

 

had
=

 

 
 
 
   
   
  
 
  
   

JAMES had r
board than he
handkerchief,

ated a long sp

 

a
+s tt an ware
lather Was

de symbolo !
Judgment is our
your wisdom to

Lod Glenv rar loc]

 

honour,

inquiry, sa

 

proved one
must thersete bh TE p

—_-

ID ce

 

sh EIN FTES

i
é

aE elt
TP Ree

ot ae care oe
cet NER

282 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

him through the body, there would but have been out of
the world a knave who had lived in it too long. I think
Lord Glenvarloch hath had much wrong; and I regret
that, by the persuasions of this false fellow, I have my-
self had some hand in it.”

“Ye speak like a child, Steenie—I mean my Lord of
Buckingham,” answered the King, “and as one that does
not understand the logic of the schools; for an action
may be inconsequential, or even meritorious, guoad homt-
nem, that is, as touching him upon whom it is acted; and
yet most criminal, guoad locum, or considering the place
wherein it is done, as aman may lawfully dance Chrighty
Beardie or any other dance in a tavern, but not inter
parietes ecclesie. So that, though it may have been a
goed deed to have sticked Lord Dalgarno, being such as
he has shown himself, any where else, yet it fell under
the plain statute, when violence was offered within the
verge of the Court. For, let me tell you, my lords, the
statute against striking would be of small use in our
Court, if it could be eluded by justifying the person
stricken to bea knave. It is much to be lamented that I
ken nae Court in Christendom where knaves are not to
be found; and if men are to break the peace under pre-
tence of beating them, why, it will rain Jeddart staves *
in our very antechamber.”

“ What your Majesty says” replied Prince Charles, “is
marked with your usual wisdlom—the precincts of palaces
must be sacred as well as the persons of kings, which are
respected even in the most barbarous nations, as being

* The old-fashioned weapon called the Jeddart staff was a species
of battle-axe. Of avery great tempest, it is said, in the south of Scot-
land, that it rains Jeddart staffs, as in England the common people
talk of its raining cats and dogs.pne step only beneath their divinities.

THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL.

But aS

ty’s will can control the severity of this and every other
law, and it is in your power, on consideration ce his Ga
to srant this rash young man a free pardon
¢ Rem acu tetrgistt, CO arole, mr erule answ ered the
King; “and know. my lords, that we have, by a shrewd
device and gift of our own, already soun ed the very
depth of this Lord Glenvarloch’s disposition lL trow
there be among you some that remember my handling in
the curious case of my Lady Lake, and how I trimmed
C *

them about the

* Whether out of a
gossiping disposition, or

st

Use

Us

2$
ay)

ally into the c
pos

ory of

hearkening behind the

arras.

yeddling propensity common to all who havea

one Richard Haydock, a poor scholar,

ing his sleep, the King, t
Pp, t 7
delight i

“oO

these brutish eno and in doing so showe

to use the

which he was endowed by Nature.

elamorous complaint ag

cused of a purpose to put to death Lady

ter, Lady foe the wife

ed | r was

wu sa

and a forg

ains

of the Counte

from the love of justice, w
part of a ee character, James was very fond
célebres which occurred during his

hich ought to make
of peed person-
In the im-

reig

ture of the Boy of Bilson, who pretended to be Hee ssed, and’ of

who pretended to preach dur-

hi storian Wilson’s
in sounding with the line of his understanding

expression, took
the depth of
xd the acuteness with

Lady Lake’s story consisted in @

t the Countess of

Exeter, whom she a

 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
   
 
 
   

Lake herself, and her dau
ss’s own son-in-law, Lord Ross;
in atioh Lady Exeter we 1ade to

 

produ ced,

ledge such a purpose.

eh

e account

given of the cccasior

acknowle
obtaining this letter, was,

Wimbledon, in presence of

ocure

being designed to pr

 

that it had been atten by the Countess
*, Lady
r her Sat:

rot
Lake a

Lady und her daught

their forgiveness

fo

 

 

 

Ross,

 

 

 

tion. The King remained still unsatisfied, the writing, in ion
bearing strong marks af Lady Lake and her laughter ther
alleged, that, des attestation, and that of a confidentia
domestic, named Diego, in wh presence Lady I r had writ
the confession, their story might also be supported by the oat
waiting-maid, who had been placed behind the hang

the letter was written,
wonfession after she
this accusation,

and heard the
had signed it.
James, while huntit
scene of the alleged confession, suddenly left h

Countess of ix
Determined to e ¢

1g one day near W284 WaVERLEY NOVELS.

Now this put me to cogitation, and I remembered me of

W:

having read that Dionysius, King of Syracuse, whom his-

 

© ' ee ae é Fear ; he Ana
torians call 7 vpavvec, W hich sionifieth not in tne Ga eek
. eg 7 : 7 nt 17"? hn ,T val kino
I S
G ar) TO } r ( y re St TuAPVe 0 Li we
9 I 10 GD 10M , abncient rmMea
5 / J T ( ( \ } 1 caused Cl nv
A XX & » +e. Ee
y) 14 6 ly? Or | AK} TYG
\ k l ] bE tT) i u a7 VE KER
Y : ' E
tl 1s, My ord > 1OnD
HAL 1S, Mm JT
oy. elke Pee eo eke as wered tl}
eon cathedral. { presume to fQuess, answerea the
/ ae
set Fate elas TA = LT Accsledars a
Bishop. “ What the deil man—I crave your lordship’s

 

pardon for swearing—but it was no cathedral only a
lurking-place called the King’s lugg, or ear, where he
|
i

could sit undescried, and

i.
—
CD
Aas
da
~~
ew
o~=b
pad

the converse of his pris-
oners. Now, sirs, in imitation of this Dion rsius, whom
I took for my pattern, the rather

that is was a great lin-
, 1 7 ari< QI anaht a wi 0. ‘
guist and grammarian, and taught a school with good ap-

plause after his abdication, (either he ei is successor of
t me, it matters not wh ik —I have caused
them to make a lugg up at the state -prison of the Tower
yonder, more like a pulpit than a Cathedral, my Lord
Bishop—and ces with Ee arras behind the

Lieutenant’s cham} ber, where we may sit and privily hear

the discourse of Suc h prisoners as are pent up there for

 

state-oifences, and so creep into the very secrets of our
Sears

nemies.
hastily to Wimbledon, in order to examine personally tke room, dis-
covered, from the si ¢ apartment, that the alleged conversation
could not have take ‘ace in the manner sworn to; and that the

tapestry ol the chamber, which had remained in the same state for

vhirty years, was too short by two feet, and, therefore, could not ha
concealed any one behind it.

discover y of the King by

This matter was accounted an Sano va

his own s pirit of shrewd investigation. The

parties were punished in the Star Cham} ber by fine and imprisonmentqe aes)
i07VQas :

~ 4
arrncatoryv. an
rrogzatory » ALU
oO Jie

perience

pelt, and offensi\286 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

her tale, we determined not altogether to trust to her
narration, but rather to try the experiment whilk we had

devised for such occasions. And ha ving ourselves speed-

Hy oe ea rom ureenwicna to the Lowel > we cons tituteg
=)
e = rwacnrannar ac 4 ~ allad “he nhearrvea ins
ourse lv eaVesalr O} per, as it 18 Called, to onserve what
I, ‘ 2 ¥ i iM Z Ree sel the t ‘ ool a eee Be
should pass yvetween Ulenvariocnides and this page,
£ qj)

sham wa panaad ta ha it for A oy hic anartmant vweall
wnom we causea LO be adm LiLLOU Ss LOIS ADaYi ment, wei

judging that if t hey were of counsel together to deceive
us, it could not.be but something of it would spunk out—-

And what think ye we saw, my lords?—Naething for
you to sniggle and laugh at, Steenie—for I question if
you could have played the temperate and Christian-like
part of this poor lad Glenvarloch. He might be a
Father of the Church in comparison of you, man.—And
then, to try his patience yet farther, we loosed on him a
courtier and a citizen, that is Sir Mungo Malagrowther
and our servant George Heriot here, wha d: ang the poor
lad about, and didna greatly spare our royal selves.—
You mind, Geordie, what ye said about the wives and
concubines ? but I for gle ye, man—nae need of kneeling,
I forgie ye—the readier that it rega irds a certain particu-
lar, whilk, as it added not much to Solomon’s credit, the
Jack of it cannot be said to impinge on ours. Aw eel, my
lords, for all temptation of sore distress and evil ensam-
ple, this poor lad never loosed his tongue on us to say
one unbecoming word—which inclines us the

S \

rather, act=

e - ae mie eS a pe ey gate _s re 4 ey e 6 Rr
ing always by your wise advice, to treat this affair of tha

1 or QQ gp thy 1¢ } 1+ } ] and ty) q ttm) A yy
tf arK aS a tn ) I Vi LIGOl ana under
»
atrnn cy + i { 7 4 - { hes:
Hoi ne PIU Hi i t € niel Oul rree

pe ardon on Lord Glenvarloch.

“Tam happy your gracious Maje esty,” said the Duke
of Buckingham, “has arrived at that conclusion, though
Y could never have guessed at the road by which you
attained it.”THE FORTUNES

 

ie : us close-fisted, Steenie—I am sure you can

dict fice: ae it is mere envy in the auld

 

sinner, because he hims
his loof, nor fingers to

 

King lost recollection Sir Mungo’s irreverence in
chuckling over his own wit, and only farther alluded to i

by saying—* We must give the au id maunderer Jos in

linguam—something to stop his mouth, or he will rail at
us front Dan to en now, my lords, let our

hae AO ee tay OT Gl mnvarloch be pre Oe Bae
warrant Of Wel Cy tO Lord Olenvarioci Ve presently eX-
O | :

e q a } wt
pedited, and he put

 

hk Spare x rem CO slea cy r] IAQ oO c a x +1} PAN sd ay YX rhat
LIKELY to £0 SO Sle€aveicss a fa e, we will conslacl WAL
means O f wour We Ca show h im.— My lord : T wish
means ) avoul ve Gan Ssnoy 11m. i ras, 4 Wish
7 ee exh cael

you an Ae jetite to yer—for our labours nave
7} Meh el ee lye en

appl roached that term—-baby “Charles and steenmie, you
° } Af be at RS rahi
will remain till our couchnee.—lMy Lord Bishop, you w iil

, ce pa as eet ey seo
be pleased to stay to bless our meat.—Geordie Heriot,
a word with you apart.

His oo, then drew the citizen into a corner, wml

‘ ed Ww

 

Tho had been

 

the counsellors

       

to remain, made

° ‘7 wae.
said the ising238

 

e 44 1 RS en Se ee aes ; ae
proffered to purchase n us with a mighty bribe ; whilk
I ent

ie

 

e

mean, what do you think this fallow

     
  

what we mint at, unless we speak

 

s. See this chield Moniplies, sir

: 3
lave done for Lord Glenvarloch,
¥

 

ed Ds er } Wiwmond arahla nna tay oooh = WWATrA
or thor AS nundi ea . mise! able younds 10Or Whoik we were

 

aH €

E Se eres el a era a Pe OR de ae Vas
‘ | may think ye wad do the part of a good citizen, if you
se

took it on yourself to re

 

Laga
Ab X .
l
}
i} re
j
] wes ana
' ; t ra
' ‘ i LCI i iL fit cil A YUU -aALG

   

1
led by some after-thouchtss

RS eee

 

eed

ee Oat

29) WAVERLEY NOVELS.

CHAPTER XXXIV.

To this brave man the knight repairs
For counsel in his law affairs;
And found him mounted in his pew,
With books and money placed for show,
Like nest-eggs to make clients lay,
And for his false opinion pay.
HUDIBRAS.

Our readers may recollect a certain smooth-tongued,
lank-haired, buckram-suited, Scottish scrivener, who, in
an early part of this history, appeared in the character
of a vrotégé of George Heriot. It is to his house we are
about to remove, but times have changed with him. ‘The

 

the
buckram suit is changed into black velvet ; and although

petty booth hath become a chamber of importance

the wearer retains his puritanical humility and politeness
to clients of consequence, he can now look others broad in
the face, and treat them with a full allowance of superior
opulence, and the insolence arising from it. It was but a
short period that had achieved these alterations, nor was
the party himself as yet entirely accustomed to them, but
the change was becoming less embarrassing to him with
every day’s practice. Among other acquisitions of wealth,
you may see one of Davy Ramsay’s best timepieces on

Be ] NA hic WW 4 eer ae as 7 nn To es :
the table, and his eye is frequently observing its revo-

Poe. . 1 ; eh x . ; =k cin
lutions, while a boy, whom he employs as a scribe, is

occasionally sent out to compare its progress with the
elock of Saint Dunstan.THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL,

The scrivener himself seemed
He took from a strong box a nae

 
  
   
 

ee : °,7
ae pas tas of them with gree
©

—no ii ck- “a i
varloch are
Dalgarno
he should

ANnCe, anc
;

ae ham.—J “Might not acd, ‘Skuliewhiter

neatly ° He hath been my patron—true—not more than

Buckingham was his; and he can be so no more, for he

departs presently for Scotland. Iam glad of it—I hate
him, and I fear him. He knows too many of my secrets
—I know too many of his. But, no—no—no—I need
never attempt it, there are no means of overreac ching bim.
—Well, Willie, what o’clock ?”

“ Ele’en hours just chappit, sir.”

“Go to your desk with ae child,” said the scrivener.
« What to do next—I shall lose the old Earl’s fair busi-
ness, and, what is worse, _ son’s foul ee
Heriot looks too close into business to permit m
yaltry and ordinary dues. The White friar
business was profitable, but it has become unsafe ever
since—-pah !—what brought that in my head just now? |

Oo" v :

    

T can hardly hold my pen—if men should see me in this
way nud to the boy,) “a cup of
- e
distill I could face the devil.”
5 v ‘
He spoke th loud, and close he door
of the apartment, which was suddenly opened Richie

Moni a8, fe ea by two gentlemen, and attended by

e S «6 er Tor QOOY TALE he
ywo porters bearing soniye If ye can tace the

rai.292 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

devil Maister Skurliewhitter,” said Richie, “ye will be
5 9 9 ‘J

< } ae
ely to turn your back on a sack or twa o’ siller,
6 e ta’en the freed to bring you. Sathanas
n are ne e same

    
  

 

   

} nard Vr Wa MM. q Tr S IpPiy 1 Qe id Th we
L pal QOn US, IV} aSter crivene Te Sait LOWEe=
> p we 1.‘ ay Y
é 7 oe Y nat 26 ‘
: Store. You will not bafiie us—it wants thre Je-q uarters
< Reet . ‘ os
{ \ rite r alnale tha pA yr ??
of noon by every clock in the city.
Mieke &- hints SED ae een ao Neos CO
i must Lica V& LUNE, fentiemen, wc id Andre ew, to
Ee ae hae Te cot aoe 1422?
examine the gold py tale and W eigh Gs
cc 7) Ye ey as ol Ae \ : A ae eo p=. Ts 5
Do so at your leisure, Master OCrivener, replied
Ty VV ) a7e alraanv TRAN +} aA nnntenta
su VV AL & na ¥ { Aire AU Y seen tne Conte nts
sf aach carck tald and wai rhed and we 2 YI ut ir seals
Of €ach sack told ana weigned, and we have put our se€ais

i | sn tham "ML Ara tha + 75 1h a Pr wantxy 7 vn) -
f on tnem. rHere they stand in a row, twenty in num
y J

 

h conta ; AC undre 1 wallaw hammers.
li COLA) I Y MUMGUTCQ YCuUOwW-0aimnmMers

 

 

 

witnesses nder.
(+en } . 17 C4hsa cananmtoe naw
UrCLliti t VOCIITI « Lillis - SOL ULILY LOVE
sea RO ae Beas
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2 e At t ! , | Me non 1 fast ? ' & '% » a
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wink = ,
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for him myself.
i
§ N ° , | + ° > . (ye 7 4
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: + -mr so 7
¢ 66 Hp and Wi Aniniia L- ¥ ih J
out,— Fiend Jon} piles, Keep tne qaoor fas ST,Th Pmnyr x :
FORTUNES OF NIGEL.

  

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in London
and ”——ane.

+ aemcpeires enters:

= CER ERRRR !

  

 
  

294 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

“And high charges,” quoth Richie Moniplies. “But,
as I said before, gentlemen, ye have a right-to command
me in this thing, having so ee rendered me your

Ber vice! in this small

, without other

stipulation than that of a sl ight ce

The latt ar part of
a

There NM

sed in the street,

whe1 mmediatels 4 apereoiaes es inet Lord Dadeaine.
‘9 9 J oS

He ssieaned in ha iste,

touched his hat slightly to Master

Lowestoffe, who returned his rey

erence with the same

negligence, and walked slowly on with his companion,
while Lord Dalgarno stopped Richie
commanding sign, which the instinct of
pelled Moniplies, though indignant, to obey.

“Whom do you now follow, sirrah?” demanded the

noble.

Meniplie es with a
education com-

“Whomsoever goeth before me, my lord,”

Moniplies.

“No sauciness, you knave—I desire to know if you
still serve Nigel Olifaunt?” said Dalgarno.

“T am friend to the noble Lord Glenve arloch,” answered

Moniplies, with dignity.

“True,” replied Lord Dalgarno, “that noble lord has

1

sunk to seek friends among lackeys—Nevertheless,—
hark thee hither,—nevertheless.

if he be of the same

mind as when we last met, thou mayst show him,

nm

to-morrow at four afternoon, I shall pass nrihgade b
Enfield Chase—I will be oe attended, as I design
to send my train through

is my Bese to

ride an easy pace throug]

 

VT 2 ef ye iN
W hile y Vamiet J t
he a Hitt an A beatiar
VC au it DUt an 4x IS ALIA!

bOMme purposes than the

ll think it Bas
He is, I neat: at

liberty, or shortly to be so.

 

f he fail me at the placerHE FORTUNES OF. NIGEL.

nominated, he must seek me in Scotland, where he will
find me possessed of his father’s estate and lands.”

as SeUpE ” muttered Richie; “there go twa words to
that bar rain.’

He even meditated a joke on the means which he was
conscious he possessed of baffling Lord Dalgaino’s ex-
pectations ; but there was something of oan and danger-
ous excitement in the eyes of the young nobleman, which
prompted his discretion for once to rule his wit, and he
only ansvered,—

“God grant your lordship may well brook your new
conquest—when you get it. I shall do your errand to
my lord—whilk is to say,” he added internally, “he shall

oe

 

never hear a word of it from Richie. I am not the lad to
put him in such ha: zard.”

Lord Dal alean rno looked at him sharply for a moment,
as if to poe trate the meaning of the dry ironical tone,
which, in spite of Richie’s awe, mingled with his answer,
and then waved his hand, in signal he should pass on

He himself walked slowly till the trio were out of sight,

©
then turned back with hasty steps to the door of the
scrivener, which he had passed in his progress, knocked,

and was admitted.

Lord Dalgarno found the man of law with the money-
bags still standing before him ; and it escaped not his
peneti ating glance, that Skurliewhitter was disconcerted
and alarmed at his a BR ‘oach.

“How now, man,” he said; “what! hast tho

4. mwa 7 an aw > ny mar 49 Cra ?
word of oily compliment to me on my happy marriage!

} latin .
ES \ maori of Nn Ost rela’ loso nhies l eons ola tlon O ] iny
not a WoO! d Cra n0 U i u t « A A :
Wf 9° oF \eathag we iene as. a Wittol and. dis-
grace at Courtr—Ur has my micn, as a wittol and dl
. ,e rox aS : ax ae a - as 7 t 6
carded favourite, the properties Ol the Gorgon heaa, {né

o
&
3s
ex
SS
“a
©
&
an
ben!
2
a
py
29
Cas
©
S.
-
fe
ry
pad
—
o
age
co
-~-
US
Ps

7 a s
wroate Pallad296 WAVERLEY NOVELS

aa

“ My lord, I am glad—my lord, Iam sorry,” answered
the trembling scrivener, who, aware of the vi ee of
Lord Dal 10’s temper, dreaded the consequence of the
=

os
ga

to make to him.

he had

comm

—
—_
a
Scoail
~
—
Co
a

ae sorry !” eaeen Lord Dalgarno. “’That
a - Teeny, . Ty vos -

hot and cold, with a witness. Hark ye, you

) you are sorry I

ale, ld ra AT r Lip 7 TY c >] rT 7 yin > Ww k a

Kold, remember I am only mine own, you knave

ittle blood in her cheeks to Mees sent her

] sew}

Yr AT T wari lI haar 17 ‘ i A
where. Well, I will bear mine antler’d

 

Ty AY 1 a all ile Aa Wye eae fi \r Ava
+ ma —gold Shall Pula them; anda tor My ais-

grace, revenge shall sweeten it. Ay, revenve—and there
strikes the happy hour!”

  

The hour of noon was accordin igly heard to peal from

brave hammers!” said

Lord lhe estate and-lands of

Glen these clanging blows.
I | Iny s | > 4

ei to-morrow cate put aS true.as your iron
7
1

  

your peal hath cut ha out ae Tie: papers—the
papers, thou varlet! I am to-morrow northward, ho! At
fol I am bound to be at Camlet Moat, in the
En “my retinue set fora
The

6¢

 

 

thou sent them to my lox varlet? Did I not
say I was coming hithe ean you by pointing
to that money? Wha you done for it? It
is too large to be com ] one tly by.’

Chi Nein er +s | wre ut es
* You lordship Knows best,” answered the seriy yener,

rold as your own.THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 297
““ Not the redemption-money of the Glenvarloch estate!”
said Dalgarno. “Dare not say it is, or I will, upon the
spot, divorce your pettifogging soul from your carrion
carcass!” So saying, he seized the scrivener a
paar and shook him so vehemently, that he tore it fron

“My ee I must call for help

” said the trembling

 

ed
who felt at that moment all the bitterness of the
mortal acon “Tt was the law’s act, not mine. What
could I do
“ Dost ae ?>—why, thou snivelling dribblet of damna-

4.

tion, were all thy oaths, tricks, and lies spent? or do you
held yourself too good to utter them in my service ?
Thou shouldst have lied, cozened, out-sworn truth itself,
rather than stood betwixt me and my revénge! But
> he continued; “I know more of your pranks

&

mark me,
than would hang thee. A line from me to the Attorney-
General, and thou art sped.”
“What would you have me to do, my lord?” sai
the scrivener. “ All that art and law can accomplish, I
«“ Ah, are you converted? do so, or pity of your lifels

said the lord; “and remember I never fail my word.

 

of
ccf’
Then keep that accursed gold,” he continued. “ Or,
I will not trust you—send me this gold home presently

*

= 1 k na sas
to my lodging. I will still forwa ard to Scotland, and it

shall go hard but that L hold out Glenvarloch Castle

AANs \ ? rn an y A s45:0n h
against the owner, by means of the ammunition he

 

ns
q eae

i ished hoi art ready to serve Me: ‘4 be
himself furnished. Thou art ready to serve m | : |
] ‘anit ohedience
perivener professed the most implicit obedience.

nny] Bee har the honr wags Dast ere D
Then remember, the nour Was past vt. |

 

rendered- —and. see thou hast

  
 
 
  

to prove that point. -Aeicrenecir inert SSRs

RARE RMT

rm mat “Fe

998 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

“Tush, my lord, I will do more,” said Andrew, re-
viving—“TI will prove that Lord Glenvarloch’s friends
threatened, swaggered, and drew swords on me.—Did
your lordship think I was ungrateful enough to have suf-
fered them to prejudice your lordship, save that they had
bare swords at my throat ?”

“ Enough said,” replied Dalgarno ; “ you are perfect—
mind that you continue so, as you would avoid my fury.

 

I leave my page below—get porters, and let them follow
me instantly with the gold.”

So saying, Lord Dalgarno left the scrivener’s habita-
tion.

Skurliewhitter, having despatched his boy to get porters
of trust for transporting the money, remained alone and
in dismay, meditating by what means he could shake him-
self free of the vindictive and ferocious nobleman, whu
possessed at once a dangerous knowledge of his character,
and the power of exposing him, where exposure would be
ruin. He had indeed acquiesced in the plan, rapidly
sketched, for obtaining possession of the ransomed estate,
but his experience foresaw that this would be impossible ;
while, on the other oe he could not anticipate the
various consequences of Lord Dalgarno’s resentment,
without fears, from ae h his sordid soul recoiled. To be
in the power, and subject both to the humours and the
extortions of a spendthrift young lord, just when his
industry had shaped out the means of fortune,—it was the
most cruel trick which fate could have played the in-
cipient usurer.

While the scrivener was in this fit of anxious anticipa-
tion, one knocked at the door of the apartment; and,
being desired to enter, appeared in the coarse riding-
cloak of uncut Wiltshire cloth, fastened by a breadTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 299

leather belt and brass buckle, which was then generally
worn by graziers and countrymen. Skurliewhitter, be-
lieving he saw in his visitor a country client who might
prove profitable, had opened his mouth to request him
to be seated, when the stranger, throwing back his frieze
hood which he had drawn over his face, showed the
scrivener features well imprinted in his recollection, but
which he never saw without a disposition to swoon.

“Ts it you?” he said, faintly, as the stranger replaced
the hood which concealed his features.

“ Who else should it be?” said his visitor.

‘Thou son of parchment, got betwixt the inkhorn
And the stuff’d process-bag—that mayest call
The pen thy father, and the ink thy mother,

The wax thy brother, and the sand thy sister,
And the good pillory thy cousin allied—

Rise, and do reverence unto me, thy better!”

“Not yet down to the country,” said the scrivener,
“after every warning? Do not think your grazier’s
.cloak will bear you out, captam—no, ner your scraps of
stage-plays.”

“Why, what would you have me to do ?” said the cap-
tain—“ Would you have me starve? If I am to fly, you
must eke my wings with a few feathers. You can spare
them, I think.”

“You had means already—you have had ten pieces—
What is become of them?”

“Gone,” answered Captain Colepepper—* Gone, no
matter where—I had a mind to bite, and I was bitten,
that’s all—I think my hand shook at the thought of last
pight’s work, for I trowled the doctors like a very baby.”

“ And you have lost all, then ?— Well, take this and be

one,” said the scrivener,is

Ne ct rg f

 

 

 

 

; Sean RBRRRS AT: af

seater

i oe
on EE RTT

prece out of them, with

300 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

“What, two poor smelts!. Marry, plague of your
bounty !—But remember, you are as deep in as 1.”

“ Not so, by Heaven!” answered the serivener: “J

3
only thought. ot Casing the old man of some papers and a
x fa 1A hae 1 ea ee
tiifle of his gold, and you took his life.
: me i «
eB OWere: he divane  anewornnk O71 tne oe es ote
“Were he living,” answered Lolepepper, “he would

11a 126

: Aloe 4 4 } y een LT.
iost 1t than his money.—but that is not t
j ie aftAP Oley rli > rhitt ay VO! WW yi J the 1] Tate
YLASTCr OKUI 1ew bitter—you undaIa tne priva

J

fairs } lay ere he gied. ee aah te
aifairs on the day ere he died—so Satisty yo

 

»e

ce

po

fp

f@>)

paaed
Gis

—

So

=
FF

 

if I am taken, I will not swing alone.—P;
field is dead; it spoils the old catch—
-* And three merry men, and three merry men,
And three merry men are we,

As ever did sing three parts in a string,
All under the triple tree.’ ”

(AX

“For God’s sake, speak

“jis this a pl

lower,” said the serlvener ;
ace or time to make your midnight catches
heard ?—But how much will serve your turn? I tell
you I am but ill provided.”

“You tell me a lie, then.” said the bully—“a

yalpable and eross lie
I :

—

most
c -—How much, d’ye say, will serve
my turn? Why, one of these bags will do for the pres
ent.”

6

‘I swear to you that these bags of money are not at

“Not honestly, perhaps.” 5s

haps, said the captain, “ but that

1 af eee es Sie ol beer eed aoe
makes hit ble diver E€nce Detwixt us.
Core aom7aar ¢n TWA 7? ney teas Pin NK aeer on oe Coa, 3:
i sweali to you, continued the serivener, they are
ey r *

®
fy

In No way at my disposal—they have be

oeen delivered to
me by tale—I am to

pay them over to Lord Dalgarno,
whose boy waits for them, and I could not skelder ene

out risk of hue and cry.”THE

‘“ But yet—but W

66 XT mag Wie hi .
“ Nay, I meant notning,

by Barnet, and he

a 1a ce
“infield Cha

 

FORTUNES

an you not put off the delivery: ” said the

se; and he spoke to me yesterday of ridi

 

2A 1 ee a hee

said the Scrivener
. hadat tha wind 1 \¥ ee TEL ore
ou hadst the wind of some good thing,
k aa nance like Qa a sttin xy tac
1e6@ pause iikC a JEULLINS “G08.

ytain, was, that his servants gc

¥° ec Soe a ee ki ea pL RI 1
himself, with his page, pass through

°

ling ¢
lng &302 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

now. I will be revenged, too, for I‘owe him a grudge
for an old score at the ordinary. Let me see—Black
Feltham, and Dick Shakebag—we shall want a fourth—I
love to make sure, and the booty will stand parting, besides
what I can bucket them out of. Well, scrivener, lend me
two pieces.—Bravely done—nobly imparted! Give ye
good-den.” And wrapping his disguise closer around
him, away he went.

When he had left the room, the scrivener wrung his
hands, and exclaimed, “More blood—more blood! I
thought to have had done with it, but this time there was
no fault with me—none—and then I shall have all the
advantage. If this ruffian falls, there is truce with his

 

 

tugs at my purse-strings ; and if Lord Dalgarno dies—as
is most likely, for though as much afraid of cold steel as
a debtor of a dun, this fellow is a deadly shot from behind
a bush,—then am I in a thousand ways safe
safe.”

We willingly drop the curtain over him and his reflec-

bons.

safe—NAQ

THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. wus

CHAPTER XXXV.

Ve are not worst at once—the course of evil
Begins so slowly, and from such slight source,
An infant’s hand might stem its breach with clay 5
But let the stream get deeper, and philosophy—
Ay, and religion too,—Sshall strive in yain
To turn the headlong torrent.

Op Pay.

Tur Templars had been regaled by our friend Richie |
Moniplies in a private chamber at Beaujeu’s, where he
might be considered as good company ; for he had ex-
changed his serving-man’s cloak and jerkin for a grave
yet handsome suit of clothes, in the fashion of the times,
but such as might have befitted an older man than him-
self. He had positively declined presenting himself at
the ordinary, a point to which his companions were very
desirous to have brought him, for it will be easily believed
that such wags as Lowestoffe and his companion were not
d to a little merriment at the expense of the raw
in; besides the chance of easing him
d to have acquire

indispose
and pedantic Scotsm:
of a few pieces, of which he appeare
ble command. But not even a succession

considera
sack, in which the little brilliant

measures of sparkling
ated like motes in the sun’s rays, had the least

atoms eircul
i e re ra i nes | L he
He ALLO

effect on Richie’s sense of decorum.
even while he drank like a 18h,

gravity of a judge, an
from his own natural inclination to good liquor, p2 rtly in304 WAVERLEY NOVELS

the way of good fellowship towards his guests. When
the wine began to make some innovation on their heads,
Master Lowestoffe, tired, perhaps, of the humours of
Richie, who began to become yet more stoically contra-
dictory and dogmatical than even in the earlier part of
the entertainment, proposed to his friend to break ap their
debauch and join the gamesters.

The drawer was called accordin rly, and Richie dis-
charged the reckoni ng of the party, with a generous remu-
neration to the : attendar nts, which was received with cap
and knee, and many assurances of “ Kindly weleome,
gentlemen.”

“T grieve we should part so soon, gentlemen,”
Richie to his companions,—“and I

said
would you had

cracked another quart ere you went, or staid to take

some slight matter of supper, and a ey of Rhenish. I

thank you, however, for hav ing graced my y poor collation

tus far; and I commend you to fortune, in your own

courses, for the ordinary neither was, is, nor shall be an
element of mine.”

66 F; are-t thee -Ww ell then,” said Low estoffe, Ts most s: apie ent
and sententious Master Moniplies. May you soon have
another mor teave to rede

J L

ge t icem, and may I be there to wit-

ness iL: and May you ple Ly t he cood fellow as heartily as
J iy S
7

you have done this day.”

CC WT i ] aed okra : Ce og
“ Nay, gentlemen, it is merely of your grace to say so
—but, if you would but hear me speak a few words of

admonition resp¢ ecting this wicked ordmary ==

“ Reserve Bho lesson, most honourable Richie,” said
Lowestoffe, “until I have lost all my money,” showing,
at the same time, a purse indifferently wel] provided
“and then the lecture is likely to have some weight.”

c
CA 1st Ste, eres Dee 13s Sy
And Keep my share of it, Richie” «: theFOR

  

TUNES OF

 

  

“Nay, it is come already,” said Lowestoffe; “they
have set out the hazard table. Since you will peremp-
torily not go with us, why, fe ‘ewell, Richie.”

And farewell, pemgneLy * said Richie, and left the
house, into which they returne d.

Moniplies was not many steps from the door, when a
person, whom, lost in his reflections on gaming, ordi-
naries, and the manners of the age, he had not observed,
and who had been as negligent on his part, ran full
against him; and when Richie desired to know whether
he meant “ ony a civility,” replied by a curse on Scotland,
and all that belonged to it. A less round reflection on
his country would, at any time, have prov oked Richie,
but more especially when he had a double quart of Ca-
nary and better in his pate. He was abou
very ene answer, and to second his wo
when a closer view of his antagonist as

«6 ae are the vera lad in the
“ whom I most wished to meet 2

 

1

Scotsman bears

 

 

peat in English doublet.OO

LSS eR

 

 

a

306 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

“T care not whether he does or not,” said the gallant.
* Let me go—why keep you hold of my cloak? Let me
go, or I will thrust you into the kennel.”

“T believe I could forgie ye, for you did me a good
turn once, in plucking me out of it,” said the Scot.

“Beshrew my fingers, then, if they did so,” replied the
stranger. “J would your whole country lay there, along
with you; and Heaven’s curse blight the hand that helped
to raise them! Why do you stop my way?” he added,
fiercely.

“ Because it is a bad one, Master Jenkin,” said Richie.
“ Nay, never start about it, man—you see you are known.
Alack-a-day! that an honest man’s son should live to
start at hearing himself called by his own name.” Jen-
kin struck his brow violently with his clenched fist.

“Come, come,” said Richie, “this passion availeth
nothing. Tell me what gate go you?”

“To the devil!” answered Jin Vin.

“That is a black gate, if you speak according to the

3

letter,” answered Richie; “but if metaphorically, there
are worse places in this great city than the Devil Tavern;
and I care not if I go thither with you, and bestow a
pottle of burnt sack on you—it will correct the crudities
of my stomach, and form a gentle preparative for the leo
of a cold pullet.”

“J pray you, in good fashion, to let me go,” said Jen-
kin. “You may mean me kindly, and I wish you to
have no wrong at my hand; but Iam in the humcur to
be dangerous to myself, or any one.”

“Twill abide the risk,” said the-Scot, “if you will but
come with me; and here is a place convenient, a howff
nearer than the Devil, whilk is but an ill-omened drowthy
name for a tavern. ‘This other of the Saint Andrew is aTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 307

quiet place, where I have ta’en my whetter now and then
when I lodged in the neighbourhood of the Temple with
Lord Glenvarloch— What the deil’s the matter wi’ the
man, garr’d

®

iv
i

eee a O ae z
ni} o1e sie ans , 3 and
nim ge sic a Spang as ne and almaist

LISt

brought himself and me on the causeway ? ”
TY n os pene gs (ea hee OE ees city Ie ° ~e
Do not name that false Scot’s name to me, one Jin
: 663 : r
Nan, 3" it you woul d not have me go mad !—I was

 

 

before I saw him—he has been the cause of all heel ill that
has efile on me—he has made a knave and a madmar
of. me !

22

33

CEP vox are a knave,” said Richie, “you have met an

officer—if you are daft, you have met a keeper; but a

ICT 5
centle officer and a kind ne Look you, my gude
friend, there has been twenty things said about this same
lord, in which there is no more hes than in the leas-
ings of Mahound. The warst they can say of him is,
that he is not always so amenable to good advice as I
would pray him, you, and every young man to be. Come
wi? me—just come ye wi’ me; and, if a little spell of

ereat deal of excellent counsel can relieve

siller and a g

your occasions, all I can say 1s, you have had the luck to
meet one capable of giving you both, and maist willing to
bestow them.’
The pertinacity of the Scot prevailed over the sullen-
ness of Vincent, who was indeed in a state of agitation

and incapacity to think for hims self, which led him to
yield the more readily to the suggestions of another He

suffered himself to be ae aged into the small tavern wach
- ] nN A 7 lh OM «
Richie recommended, and where they soon found them-

selves seated in a snug niche, with a reeking pottle ol

wD

burnt sack, and a paper of sugar betwixt them.

ree
and tobacco were also. provided, but were only used ‘by
Richie, who had adopted the custom of ae as adding

xeA

 

¥ P

a Meats

 

eee

sagen tyne

reemtnteanatnzl

30

considerably to the gravity ani importance of his manner,

o

and oe as it were, a bland and pleasant accompani-

 

   

14 “ ] : 1 at sadam t Th] 4 Ou acl Lanm his
ee 4 Ey be oe aera ie f° xn clam whieh i mr)
ment to tne WOFrQS. Ol WiISGOM. WHIC h HOWwea {Form 7AIs8
1 ( 17 10.4 1 . + + :
47 ys 4 1 : 47 >
LON Lv [CE] i I GQ. Ul te es ana aGrunk
tham 71 } 22 Y) ‘ ie ry ) an wht) ee at eed
t a j Ce i j j Y uid GI Vil VV Libs
6 1ca4 W¢ Ty cy ¢ 4 ; 7 - Tx;

9 Pay tl = iis { \ ‘ itu Lye
oo v

Bins + 1 °
6 tala ~ ai + or a HO \ daactripatinn
a LOLG VOU pal e iid I : 3 a Pee ) LAC bh AUCOMOIR
od ) c
; 2 1 Se a] 1 : 7 l tn havar
, =} C oO > ye s ‘ »

- E J WUC edt N&-DOUSE. iJ Erk 1-6 JLVEA LO HaZalt
x 4 1 P : ~ x
No a We Or } LA» NntwVWw~ Thr) OY 5 ‘ Mie Qa x ll YO XW fi yr
tnese two or tore preces, to get aS MuUuCN as wi pay OL

oO

Q ynacanga at} nee S] a Ia > wh WA S| 1
ow passage Witn ae k NarKker, WOOSC sl

Gravesend, bound for America

 

i
and so Eastward, ho !—
I met one devil in the way already, who would have

tempted me from my purpose, but I spurned him from
I

 

ui a Be +t
me—you may know.— W

 

“JT would have As to know,” answered Richie, “ that

I deal in no such commodities, whether as buyer or seller.

But if ss will a me honestly the cause of your distress,

T will do what is in my power to help you out. of. it,—not

being, howe er, prodigal of promises, until I know the

ease; as a learned physician aie gives advice when he
) t y Jr

52 o one ie any ee to Bi with my affairs,” said the
poor lad; and, folding his arms on the table, he laid his
head down on them, with the sullen dejection of the over-

aA An Pe ear ein dae ae 1 . = =
when it throws itself down to die in des-

 

; es Ma eee aS Le =
s@ MOSt LOIKS Who have a good

 

Ry ee 44 7 s sg 1 4 4 2

Opinion of then s, was fond of the task of consola-
ate 27 nee isn] rived his } pe ; t (far th
LIC at nee displayed Nis uperiori Y, Uo! ne
ne = anne es oa

Ce necessarily, for the time at least, superior ta

fiicted person,) and indulged his love of talking

oO = &:THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 309

He inflicted on the poor penitent an harangue of pitiless
;

i stuffed full of the usual topics of the mutability of
human affairs—the eminent advantages of ae under

   

HMICTION tha ToLiy i 7 | | NC Ned
affliction—the folly of grieving for what hath no remedy
s o/
+ C { a fe +} Eat a 2

—the essitv of taking more care for the future, an

oF = ed

i} > vay al> } > } 4
BC entle rebukes on yf the past, which acid
I |

ae . Sat = epee om Se yee oes 2
he to assist in s o the patient’s obstinacy
CU L a ies ; iatehig

Qa mn a} used vin eg rAY in TI 1g his Wa thranah
Par Dal iIscu Lc Wa =Cu tt in DSS VN ay Lnrougn

S :

-

rocks. tk was not in human nature to endure this flood
of cormnanne yce eloquence in silence; and Jin Vin,
whether desirous of stopping the flow of words cama
thus into his ear, “against the stomach of his sense,” or
whether confiding in Richie’s prote tations of friendship,
which the wretched, says Fielding, a are ever so ready to
believe, or whether merely to give his sorrows vent in
words, raised his head, and turning his red and swollen
eyes to Richie—

“ Cocksbones, man, only hold thy tongue, a and thou
shalt know all about it,—and then all I ask of thee is to
shake hands and part.—This Margaret Ramsay,—you
have seen her, man?”

“ Once,” said Richie, “ once, at Master George a “iot’s,
in Lombard Street—I was in ae room when they dined.

“ Ay, you helped to shut t heir trenchers, I rememb aber,”
said Jin Vin. “ Well, that sa ame pretty girl—ana I will

Re
uphold her the eae betwixt Paul’s and the bar—-
she is to be wedded to ir Lord Glenvarloch, with a

ese ss ee oo? q 99
pestilence on him!

a a ee ee tee 4a paving Tou:
“ That is impossible,” said Richie ; “it is raving non
]

1 = f TOY ROP AVA
sense, man—they make April gouks 01 ee cockneys
every month in the year— The Lord Glenvariloch marry

the daughter r of a Lonnon mechanic! I would as soon
rry the ‘dae

believe ihe ereat Prestor John would mar

7. “_ wh 93
of a Jew packman.”1 AD RON Ry AEE. TE
“ savin es einen See TEE ascent aps emule e ve .
2g Spam Reese

some

coe

=

510 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

“Hark ye, brother,” said Jin Vin, “I will allow no
one to speak disregardfully of the city, for all I am in
trouble.”

“TI crave your pardon, man—I meant no offence,” said
Richic ; “but as to the marriage, it is a thing simply
impossible.”

“ Tt is a thing that will take place, though, for the Duke
and the Prince, and all of them, have a finger in it; and
especially the old fool of a King, that makes her out to
be some great woman in her own country, as all the
Scots pretend to be, you know.”

“Master Vincent, but that you are under affliction,”
said the consoler, offended in his turn, “I would hear no
national reflections.”

The afflicted youth apologized in his turn; but asserted,
“it was true that the King said Peg-a-Ramsay was some
far-off sort of noblewoman ; and that he had taken a great
interest in the match, and had run about like an old gander,
cackling about Peggie ever since he had seen her in hose
and doublet—and no wonder,” added poor Vin, with a
deep sigh.

“This may be all true,” said Richie, “ though it sounds
strange in my ears; but, man, you should not speak evil

‘ of dignities—Curse not the King, Jenkin; not even in

 

thy bed-chamber—stone walls have ears—no one has a
right to know that better than I.”

“TI do not curse the foolish old man,’ said Jenkin;
“but I would have them carry things a peg lower.—If
they were to see on a plain field thirty thousand such
pikes as I have seen in the artillery gardens, it would not
be their long-haired courtiers would help them, I trow.” *

* Clarendon remarks, that the importance of the military exercise
pf the citizens was severely felt by the cavaliers during the civil war,THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. $11

«Hout, tout, man,” said Richie, “mind where the
Stuarts come frae, and never think they would want
spears or claymores either; but leaving sic matters,
whilk are perilous to speak on, I say once more, what 1s
your concern in all this matter as

“ What is it?” said Jenkin; “why, have I not fixed
on Peg-a-Ramsay to be my true love from the day I
came to her old father’s shop? and have I not carried
her pattens and her chopines for three years, and borne
her prayer-book to church, and brushed the cushion for
her to kneel down upon, and did she ever say me nay et

«“ T see no cause she had,” said Richie, “ if the like of
such small services were all that ye proffered. Ah, man |
there are few—very few, either of fools or of wise men,
ken how to guide a woman.”

“ Why, did I not serve her at the risk of my freedom,
and very nigh at the risk of my neck? Did she not—
no, it was not her neither, but that accursed beldam whom
she caused to work upon me—persuade me like a fool to
turn myself into a waterman to help my lord, and a
plague to him, down. to Scotland; and instead of going
peaceably down to the ship at Gravesend, did not he rant
and bully, and show his pistols, and make me land him at

Greenwich, where he played some swaggering pranks,
that helped both him and me into the Tower?”

“ Aha!” said Richie, throwing more than his usual
wisdom into his looks ; “so you were the green-jacketed
waterman that rowed Lord Glenvarloch down the river ?”

notwithstanding the ridicule that had been showered upon it by the
dramatic poets of the day. Nothing less than habitual practice could,
at the battle of Newbury, and elsewhere, have enabled the Londoners
jo keep their ranks as pikemen, in spite of the repeated charge of the
Gery Prince Rupert and his gallant cavaliers.WAVERLEY NOVELS.

“The more fool I, that did not souse him in the
Thames,” said Jenkin; “and I was the lad that would
not confess one word of who or what I was, though they
threatened to make me hug the Duke of Exeter’s daugh-
ton *

“Wha is she, man?” said Richie; “she must be an
ill-fashioned piece, if you’re so much afraid of her, and
she come of such high kin.”

“I mean the rack—the rack, man,” said ~Jenkin.
“Where were you bred that never heard of the Duke
of Exeter’s daughter? But all the dukes and duchesses
in England could have got nothing out of me

 

so the
truth came out some other way, and I was set free.—
Home I ran, thinking myself one of the cleverest and
happiest fellows in the ward. And she—she—she wanted
to pay me with money for all my true service! and she
spoke so sweetly and so coldly at the same time, I wished
myself in the deepest dungeon of the Tower] wish they
had racked me to death before I heard this Scottishman
was to chouse me out of my sweetheart!”

“But are ye sure ye ‘have lost her?” said Richie;

“it sounds strange in my ears that my Lord Glen-
varloch should marry the daughter of a dealer, though

there are uncouth marriages made in London, I’ll allow
that.”

“Why, I tell you this lord was no sooner clear of the

Tower, than he and Master George Heriot comes to make

proposals for her, with the King’s assent, and w
and fine fair day prospects of Court fa

for he hath not an acre of land.”

hat not;
vour for this lord,
“Well, and what said the auld watch-maker ? ” said

* A particular species of rack. used at the Tower of London, was
80 called.THE FORTUNES

OF NIGEL.

Richie; “was he not,.as might weel beseem him, ready

to loup out of his skin-case for very joy?”
“ He multiplied six figures progressively, and reported
the product—then gave his consent.” a
“ And what did you do?”

“ T rushed into the streets,” said the poor lad, “with a

  

burning heart and a blood-shot eye and where did LI

  

first find myself, but with that beldam, Mother Suddle-
chop—-and what did she propose to me, but to take the
road !

“ Take the road, man? in what sense?” said Richie.

““ Hiven as a ie to Saint Nicholas—as a highwayman,
like Poins and Peto, and the good fellows in the play—
and who think you was to be my captain ?—for she had
the whole out ere I could speak to her—I fancy she took
silence for consent, and thought me damned too unutter-
ably to have one thought left that savoured of redemption
—who was to be my captain, but the knave that you saw
me cudgel at the ordinary, when ‘i ou waited on Lord
Glenvarloch, a cowardly, sharking, thievish bully about
town here, whom they call

ef Colepepper—umph— -I know something of that smau ik,”
said Richie; “ken ye by ony chance where Ne may be
heard of, Master Jenkin ?—ye wad do me a sincere

service to ee me.”

; hi ~arared. the
“ Why, he lives something obscurely,” answered the
Q +t > J ; 27F Se i ; Nn Vas
epprenties; “on account of suspicion of some villainy
7 Ts f if ) QI
I believe that hot rrid murder in Whitefriars, or some suce

oe eT ccdkk Have heariule about him from
matter. Dut i Dis ite Nave ical AlL AVUUL 3 L y
A Aancl c.. che anoke of my meeting him at
= l Le{ i}¢ T i : 5 , N wy, 5 4 Lid a LiL ~ SSecy tA
Dame Suddlecbop, fOr Sill SDOKE f iit c >

I
Z 1 + a 7a} 1 — dn ©
@nfield Chase, with some other good fellows, to do a
robbery on one that goes northward with a store OL

treasure.”B14 WAVERLEY NGVELS.

“And you did not agree to this fine project?” said
Moniplies.

“TI cursed her for a hag, and came away about my
business,” answered Jenkin.

“Ay, and what said she to that, man? That would
startle her,” said Richie.

“ Not a whit. She Jaughed, and said she was in jest,”
answered Jenkin ; “but I know the she-devil’s jest from
her earnest too well to be taken in that way. But she
knows I would never betray her.”

“ Betray her! No,” replied Richie; “but are ye in
any shape bound to this birkie Peppercull, or Colepepper,
or whatever they call him, that ye suld let him do a
robbery on the honest gentleman . that is travelling
to the north, and may be a kindly Scot, for what we
know ?”

“ Ay—going home with a load of English money,”
said Jenkin. “But be he who he will, they may rob the
whole world an they list, for I am robbed and ruined.”

Richie filled up his friend’s cup to the brim, and in-
sisted that he should drink what he called. “clean caup
aut.” “This love,” he said, “is but a bairnly matter for
a brisk young fellow like yourself, Master Jenkin. And
if ye must needs have a whimsy, though I think it would
be safer to venture on a staid womanly body, why, here
be as bonny lasses in London as this Peg-a-Ramsay. Ye

seed not sigh sae deeply, for it is very true—there is as
good fish in the sea as ever came out of it. Now where-
fore should you, who are as brisk and trig a young fellow
of your inches, as the sun needs to shine on—wherefore
need you sit moping this way, and not try some bold way
to better your fortune ?” !
“T tell you, Master Moniplies,” said Jenkin, “I amTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 315

as poor as any Scot among you—lI have broke my inden:
ture, and I think of running my country.”
« a. q, es e = °
A-well-a-day!” said Richie; “ but that maunna be,

€ T Ly y ‘al ] Q f 1 1 |
man——i Ken w€el, by sad experience, that poortith takes
away pith, and the man sits full still that has a rent in

v

his bre

heretofore, and I will serve you now. If you will but

eks.* But courage, man; you have served me

x

C

P)

bring me to speech of this same Captain, it shall be the
9?

best day’s work you ever did
6 : a :
“TJ guess where you are, Master Richard

 

you would
save your countryman’s long purse,” said Jenkin. “I
cannot see how that should advantage me, but I reck not
“I should bear a hand; I hate that braggart, that bloody-
minded, cowardly bully. If you can get me mounted, [
care not if I show you where the dame told me I should
meet him—but you must stand to the risk, for though he
+s a coward himself, I know he will have more than one
stout fellow with him.”

“ We'll have a warrant, man,” said Richie, “and the
hue and cry, to boot.”

“ We will have no such thing,” said J enkin, “if [ am
to go with you. Iam not the lad’to betray any one to
the harmanbeck. You must do it by manhood if J am

to go with you. I am sworn to cutter’s law, and will sell

no man’s blood.”

« Aweel, said Richie, “a wilful man must have his
way; ye must think that I was born and bred where
lentier than whole ones. Besides.

eracked crowns were Pp

* This elegant speech was made by the Earl of Douglas, called
ttle of

Tineman, after being wounded and made prisoner at the bat
Bhrewsbury, where,
“ His well labouring sword

Had three times slain the semblance of the King.’’Reem

816 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

¥ have two noble friends here, Master Lowestoffe of the

Temple, and his cousin Master Ringwood, that will

h

a & 93
blithely be of so gallant a party.

60 F

we
= Seti et .

; OWVa rT }

LuOW C@SLOLME

 

na R inowood |? 291d Tankin - 66 +} avy ara
Cand Nine*woaod ! pala vs CNKIN 5 tney are
wy e/
byt wrawe g~allantc Bes ee 1a eee Ne : > S
wOLU brave Paliants—tney will be sure company. AnOW
oO / fr J
7 pa! 1 fr 1 *) 9
Vou mere tf are & eC TOUNG !
6 x 3 i: 1Z ; a Lees CTH conn Saye ¢ +
4 AFTY GO 4, epie vICNIe ANCY are tast at
4 ev
1 J }. =I*° ary i pe | T 33
{ #> ‘ Ma 9 Peg a + Tha ma Omrac Bo XAT S) PrP INT } nV
the Cards ane GIiGe; tril tHe Sima nours, £ warrant them.

Jenkin, “and, if they advise it, I will try the adventrire.
Go, try if you can bring them hither, since you have so
much to say with them. We must not be seen abroad
together.—I know not how it is, Master Moniplies,” econ.
tinued he, as his countenance brightened up, and while,

“They are gentlemen of trust and honour,” said

 

in his turn, he filled the cups, “but I feel my heart some-
thing lighter since I have thought of this matter.”
“Thus it is to have counsellors; Master Jenkin,” said
Richie, “and truly I hope to hear you say that your
heart is as light as a lavrock’s, and that before you are
many days aulder. Never smile and shake your head,
but mind what I tell you—and bide here in the mean-
g
cart-ropes would not hold them back from such a ploy as
I shall propose to them.”

while, till I go to seek these gallants. I warrant you,wi hh yer Twa \ Hy De
THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. Cat
wl a
i CA f Kee
LY 2 4 AE = .4 4 i Lk oe =
wae have bho yt 7 a ny WY Accor ~ LY] 1 7 }
eves have bound the true men—Now, could thou ana t rob the
hieves, and go merrily to London.

Henry IV., Part I.

[ue sun was high upon the glades of Enfie Id Chase,

ad

and the deer, with which it then abounded, were seen
porting in Be resque groups among the ancient oaks of
the forest, when .a cava lier, and a lady on foot, although
riding apy ae sauntered slowly up one of the long
Te ceh were cut through the park for the conven-
ience of the hunters. Their only attendant was a pages

who, riding a Spanish jennet, which seemed to bear a

heavy cloa

The female, ‘Saeed in all the fantastic finery of the

ak-bag, followed’ them at a respect tful distance.

eriod, with more than the usual quantity of bugies,
oe

ae and trimmings, and holding her fan of ostrich
feathers in one hand, and her riding-ma ask of black velvet

‘n the other, seemed at xious, by all the little coquett

paren on a occasions,
eompa ynion, who sometimes heard her prattle withe

seeming to atte and to it, and at oO oth er times int errupte
peemmMsS Le

44 ANA to red ly LO her.

s > A
ty nN fC owraver reine {
tram OL Olay er PEMCOCuyiiny t

to secure the notice of es

 

AN: ! } 4 a Lo 1 aT 1

“ Nay, but, my lord—my lord, yee walk so fast, you

1 oO TEL ma +b d WY I il 1 h; LV a he old at vO} ix

will leav © me | JE shine yy) ou. — Nay; Wiit 1 Oly Ve
(ax

bs “ae }

but how to manage with my mask aa my fan!

arm, b
Why would you not let me bring my waiting-gentle
DY wouia yo A ALU UO i 2 J 5}cag PTT aE.

oe

 

 

a 4%
SF teeta

818 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

woman to follow us, and hold my things? But see, ]
will put my fan in my girdle, soh !—and now that I have
a hand to hold you with, you shall not run away from
me.”

“ Come on, then,” answered the gallant, “and let us
walk apace, since you would not be persuaded to stay
with your gentlewoman, as you call her, and with the
You may perhaps see that, though,
you will not like to see.”

rest of the bageage.

 

She took hold of his arm accordingly ; but as he con-

tinued to walk at the same pace, she shortly let go her
hold, exclaiming that he had hurt her hand.

ler stopped, and looked at the pretty hand
which she showed him, with excl
cruelty.

The cava-
and arm
amations against his
“T dare say,” she said, baring her wrist and a
part of her arm, “it is all black and blue to the very
elbow.”
“I dare say you are a silly little fool,” said the cava-
lier, carelessly kissing the agerieved arm; “ it is only a
pretty incarnate which sets off the blue veins.”

“ Nay, my lord, now it is you are silly,” answered the
dame ; “but I am glad I can make you speak and laugh
on any terms this morning. I am sure, if I did insist on
following you into the forest, it was all for the sake of
diverting you. I am better company than your page, I
trow. And now, tell me, these pretty thing
be they not deer ? ” :

©

s with horns,

“Even such they be, Nelly,” answered her neglectful
attendant.

“And what can the great folks do with so many of
them forsooth ? ”

“They send them to the city, Nell, wher

e€ wise men
make venison pasties of their flesh, and w

ear their horngTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 319

- for trophies,” answered Lord Dalgarno, whom our reader

has already recognised.

“ Nay, now you laugh at me, my lord,’ answered his
companion ; “ but I know all. about venison, whatsoever
you may think. I always tasted it once a-year when we
dined with Mr. Deputy,” she continued, sadly, as a sense
of her degradation stole across a mind bewildered with
vanity and folly, “ though he would not speak to me now,
if we met together in the narrowest lane in the Ward!”

“warrant he would not,” said Lord Dalgarno, “ be-
cause thou, Nell, wouldst dash him with a single look ; for
I trust thou hast more spirit than to throw away words
on such a fellow as he?”

“ Who, I!” said Dame Nelly. “ Nay, I scorn the
proud princox too much for that. Do you know, he
made all the folks in the Ward stand cap in hand to him,
my poor old John Christie and all?” Here her recol-
lection began to overflow at her eyes.

“« A plague on your whimpering,” said Dalgarno, some-
what harshly.—* Nay, never look pale for the matter,
Nell. -I am not angry with you, you simple fool. But
what would you have me think, when you are eternally
looking back upon your dungeon yonder by the river,
which smelt of pitch and old cheese worse than a Welsh-
id all this when I am taking you

3
A

poet

man does of onions,
down to a castle as fine as is in Fairy Land!”
“Shall we be there to-night, my lord?” said Nelly,
drying her tears. 3
“To-night, Nelly ?—no, nor this night fortnight.”
“Now, the Lord be with us, and keep us!—But shall
my lord?—l thought every body came

Tam sure Lord Glenvarloch and

11

we not go by sea,
from Scotland by sea.

Bes te: oe
Richie Moniplies came up by sea.i. eR

mites

 

 

 

1D

WAVERLEY NOVELS.

There is a wide. difference between coming up and

Sa AT DO Ree eee eres VAs 2}
roiIns’ down Nelly,” answered Lord Daleai no.
5 oO 3 tee

Coan A tA Te han Ahh ee ee eee
‘And so there is, for ce! tain,” said his simple com
es (6p wet  Eetfhinti a bank oo A. Keane eee A

panion. “ but yet JT think T neard peopie Speaking of

goms aown to COt nd DY S@a, as -W ell as Comins Yy
oO f °

ws

©
Are you well avised of the way ?—Do you think it pos-
sible we can go by land, my sweet lord ? ”

tu iQ

“It is but trying, my sweet la idy,” said

ln

. 0rd Dalgarno.
“ Men say England oe Scotland are in the
80 one would hope there
by land.”

ee s | 3
same island,
may be some road betwixt them

“I shall never be able to ride so far,’ said the

lady.

“We will have your saddle stuffed softer,” said the
lord. “TI tell you that you shall mew your city slough,

and change from the caterpillar of a paltry lane into the

butterfly of a prince’s garden. You shall have as many

fires as theres are hours in the d:

day—as many hand-

ide a +} Aa ora lavs +7 th > AY aly ga nN T ]
maidens as there are days in the week—as ma ny menials
as there are weeks in the year—and you he ride a-

hunting and hawking with a lor d, mstead of waiting upon

©
an old ship-chandler, who could do nothing but hawk aud
gpit.”

“Ay, but will you make me your lady?” said Dame
Nelly.

“Ay, surely—what else?”

replied the lord—-« My
lady-love.’

a

 

A x PAsanoan wank oa ; Wx
Ay, but I mean your lady-y e, said Nelly.
Y ¢ a/
ee NT ES Photo enn 4 ees pee i aa 3
LI Uy, IN@il, IN that £ Cannot promise to ot uge you.
Ae yee ee 2:99 Ta Ans ale ee ce a XF Oe Soe
4A lady ‘Wwite,- continued | usarno, “18S a very difter
Ss oe
thine from a ladvelove ”
thing from a lady-love.

“T heard from Mrs. Suddl echop, whom ao lodged m6

with since I left poor old Jchn Christ; lie, that Lord Glen.rh / natn | a} b ats > } Ne 1 ry 7 ]
nopetul alliance, before the lay is much older,” answered
ee om I
Lord Dalearno.
co Wall eis Gaant * x al Oo > . _
Well, but my father was as good a man as old Davy
og a

Ro NAA w ang aa 17a Po aaAca Ss poy.

hamsay, ane as well to pass in the world, my
Nat moarr Aa ‘ Seo

rou not marry me? You haye

trow—wherefore should you not

“ For two good reasons, Nelly. Fate put a husband
on you, and the King passed a wife upon me,” answered
Lord Dalgarno.

“ Ay, my lord,” said Nelly, “but they remain m Eng-
land, and we go to Scotland.”

rT.

Lord Da earno. “JT have heard Scottish lawyers say the
matrimonial tie may be unclasped in our happy country
by the gentle hand of the ordinary course of law, whereas

in E ang and it can only be burst by an act of Parliament.
Well, Nelly, we will look into that matter; and whethei

Oh aere Se ee TT Aa SET NRTA ‘ 1 oy ee A tae t st
we get. married avain or no, we will at least do our best

Oo
oO
to get unmarried.”

Crete TEs? ys Se oe Pea Be or ey i ae
“ Shall we indeed, my honey-sweet lord: and then 1

aa cece Pee ae Qe for he will ee
will think less about John Christie, for he will marry
: t oe ee a eee ae ot atl
acain I warrant you, for he is w ell to pass; ana 1 wouid
Vand Tee ee 1 4 : eo ee.
be glad to think he had somebody to take care of him, ¢
S
aed “ait A ‘ATA ele 1
T used to do, poor loving old man. He was a kind man
Cc
1 aS Pe Wer a hone
thouch he was a score of years olderthan 1; and ne
I wnav he will never let a youn? lord eros ic honest
ana pray Lit VVOEEE SIV Cr kN a 4 J Ld QP 4 Ul k dA Jw
a}, ee teh en 9)
threshold again .
H ae lay Wi 2 > inne ove
Here the dame was once inclined to give

 

VOL XXVIII whnoe WAVERLEY NOVELS.

way toa passion of tears; but Lord Dalgarno conjured

 

down the emotion, by saying, with some asperity—* I am
weary of these April passions, my pretty mistress, and I
think you will do well to preserve your tears for some
more pressing occasion. Who knows what turn of for-
tune may in a few minutes call for more of them than you
can render ? ”

“ Goodness, my lord! what mean you by such expres-
sions ? John Christie {the kind heart!) used to keep no
secrets from me, and I hope your lordship will rot hide
your counsel from me?”

“ Sit down beside me on this bank,” said the noble-
man; “Iam bound to remain here for a short space, and
if you can be but silent, I should like to spend a part of
it in considering how far I can, on the present occasion,
follow the respectable example which you recommend to
me.”

The place at which he stopped was at that time little
more than a mound, partly surrounded by a ditch, from
which it derived the name of Camlet Moat. A few hewn
stones there were, which had escaped the fate of many
others that had been used in building different lodges in
the forest for the royal keepers. These vestiges, just
sufficient to show that “here in former times the hand
of man had been,” marked the ruins of the abode of a
once illustrious but long-forgotten family, the Mandevilles,
Earls of Essex, to whom Enfield Chase and the extensive
domains adjacent had belonged in elder days. <A wild
woodland prospect led the eye at various. points through
broad and seemingly interminable alleys, which, meeting
at this point as at a common centre, diverged from each
other as they receded, and -had, therefore, been selected

by Lord Dalgarno as the rendezvous for the combat.THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. ove

which, thruugh the medium of Richie Moniplies, he had
offered to his injured friend Lord Glenvarloch.
“He will surely come?” he said to himself; “cowar-

dice was not wont to be his fault—at least he was bold

 

enough in the Park. ae yonder churl may not
have carried my message? But no—he is a nds
knave—on e of those eal i prize their master’s honour
above their life-—Look to the ae Lutin, and see

thou let | ia not loose, and cast thy falcon glance down.
every avenue to mark if any one comes.—Buckingham
has undergone my challenge, but the proud minion pleads
the King’s paltry commands for refusing to. answer me.
If I can baffle this Glenvarloch, or slay him—if I can
spoil him of his honour or his life, I shall go down to
Scotland with credit sufficient to gild over past muis-
chances. I know my dear countrymen—they never
quarrel with any one who brings them home either gold
or martial glory, much more if he has both gold and
laurels.”

As he thus reflected, and called to mind the disgrace
which he had suffered, as well as the causes he imagined
for hating Lord Glenvarloch, his countenance altered
under the influence of his contending emotions, to the
terror of Nelly, who, sitting unnoticed at his feet, and
looking anxiously in his face, beheld the cheek Endle the
mouth become compressed, the eye dilated, and the av hale

J
eed

countenance express the desperate and deadly resolutior
of one who awaits an instant and decisive encounter with
e mortal enemy. The loneliness of the place, the scenery

a different from that to which alone she had been accus-
tea, the dark and sombre air which crept so sud ideniy
ever the countenance of her seducer, his command im-

posing’ silence upon her *, and the apparent strangeness Orsei

Sn pe: A

 

 

A2Q4 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

his conduct in idling away so much time without any
obvious cause, when a journey of such length lay before

1 SPAT OO THO WOE Tho er ei rane S]
them, brou: cht strange thoughts 1nto her weak Drain. wosne

7 eo 3 q Cc ; .
} r "Cc i Or WOM eAY canieed TrOMmM TRaAI tk
had read of women, seduced from their matrimonial
tee nae pa A See RNC eee Evi aay ee 1 eA ANS A eee ee
GQuUutles b y sorcerers ailed to tne neuisn po vers, nay, 0 by
1 Aa ido ee gee re ea fen Ae eee rere oe
fhe BRathner of Kivi himsel, wno, -aiter conv eying DIS

pleasing shape in which he
affections, for all his natural horrors. Seas stiasad this
wild idea away as it crowded itself upon her weak and
bewildered imagination; yet she might have lived to see
it resaliee allegorically, rf not literally, but for the acci-
dent which presently followed.

The page, whose eyes were remarkably acute, at length
called out to. his master, pointing with his finger at the

Tj!
—

ame time down one of the alleys, that horsemen were

advancing in that direction. Lord Dalgarno started up,

and shading his eyes with his hand, gazed eagerly down

lle i

the alley ; when, at the same instant, he received a shot,
which, grazing his hand, passed right through his brain,
and laid him a lifeless corpse at the feet, or rather across
the lap, of the unfortunate victim of his profligacy. The
countenance, whose varied expression she had been

pavcning for the last five minutes, was convulsed for an

RAT A. ES eas ee { 2 rs
ink stant, ana tnen stimened I1nto rigidity f for ever. ihree
yr? fians rushed fy 1m the brak a f Om Whol a} the a} + ] art
rumans rusnea irom LILLE JLAKE from A hic 1 the snot hac
ee ues eS 2 1 cas SERS eae See ere iN Se By
Been tr ed, cre tone SmMoKe Was dis per sed. One, with
aA ay ‘ ~— } ha
many imprecations l on tne ave; anotner on tne
4 A i } W j } } > ~ ~} ¢
olla 5 upon vy A dV D h LiktOst ViPS

threats LO 1M pose SLiCnCE : whist tile third bes Fan to undo
q eae a a ss

yurden from the page’s horse. But an instant rescue

orevented their cae themselves of the advantage the

i 2 ) va AV ailll > Lnemselves Of the aadve a ge 1 ¥

i. 8
had obtained.THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 33

Tt may easily be supposed that Richie Monip

bom

' AOA PWNTO ] aa ]
ing secured the assistance of the two Templars, realy

 

ontrary to that of the Englis!

tree, groaning with such bitterness of §
stoffe could not forbear asking if he was hurt. In an-

swer, he said he was an unhappy man in pursuit of his

to
wife. who had been carried off by a villain; and as he
raised his countenance, the eyes of Richie, to his great
astonishment, encountered the visage of John Christie.

mM 1 4q Bias a3. a xs 1 : le To a ye Nie
“Wor the a. s sake, help me, Master Moni-

: 4 5 > . That ape tee
plies!” he said; “I have learned my wite is but a short
L

iI before, with that black villain Lord Dalgarno.”

    
 

es Have him fo

forward—we WwW!

a ets.
him of his mistress

which was lost in mounting John Christie behina one Qt

} 1 } } nh? Lrg wv} hia
vheir party, might have cal Lord Dalgarno irom his
fate. ‘Thus his eruninal amour became the indirect careSagres 7

ome

oe pa TS

326 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

of his losing his life; and thus “our pleasant vices are
made the whips to scourge-us.”

The riders arrived on the field at full gallop the mo-
ment after the shot was fired; and Richie, who had his
own reasons for attaching himself to Colepepper, who
was bustling to untie the portmanteau from the page’s
saddle, pushed against him with such violence as to over-
throw him, his own horse at the same time stumbling and
dismounting his rider, who was none of the first eques-
trians. The undaunted Richie immediately arose, hows
ever, and grappled with the ruffian with such good will,
that, though a strong fellow, and though a coward now
rendered desperate, Moniplies got him under, wrenched
a long knife from his hand, dealt him a desperate stab
with his own weapon, and leaped on his feet; and, as the
wounded man struggled to follow his example, he struck
him upon the head with the but-énd of a musketoon,
which last blow proved fatal.

“ Bravo, Richie!” cried Lowestoffe, who had himself
engaged at sword-point with one of the ruffians, and soon
put him to flight,—* Bravo! why, man, there lies Sin,
struck down like an ox, and Iniquity’s throat cut like a
pall”

“I know not why you should upbraid me with my up-
bringing, Master Lowestoffe,” answered Richie, with
Breat composure; “but I can tell you, the shambles is
not a bad place for training one to this work.”

The other Templar now shouted loudly to them,—“ If
ye be men, come hither—here lies Lord Dalgarno, mur-
dered!”

Lowestotfe and Richie ran to the spot, and the page
took the opportunity, finding himself now neglected on
ali hands, to ride off in a different direction ; and neitherTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 32'

be, nor the considerable sum with which his horse was
burdened, were ever heard of from that moment.

The third ruffian had not waited the attack of the
Templar and Jin Vin, the latter of whom had put. down
old Christie from behind him that. he might ride the
lighter ; and the whole five now stood gazing with horror
on the bloody corpse of the young nobleman, and the
wild sorrow of the female, who tore her hair and shrieked
im the most disconsolate manner, until her agony was at
once ck ecked, or rather received a new direction, by the
sudden and unexpected appearance of her husband, who,
fixing on her a cold and severe look, said, in a tone
suited to his manner—“Ay, woman! thou takest on
sadly for the loss of thy paramour.”—Then, looking on
the bloody corpse of him from whom he had received so
deep an injury, he repeated the solemn words of Scrip-
ture,—*‘ Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord, and I will
repay it’—I, whom thou hast injured, will be first to
rencer thee the decent offices due to the dead.”

So saying, he covered the dead body with his cloak,
and then looking on it for a moment, seemed to reflect on
what he had next to perform. As the eye of the injured
mun slowly passed from the body of the seducer to the
partner and victim of his crime, who had sunk down to
his feet, which she clasped without venturing to look up,
his features, naturally coarse and saturnine, assumed a
dignity of expression which overawed the young Temp-
lars, and repulsed the officious forwardness of Richie
Moniplies, who was at first eager to have thrust in his ad-

° ° / a 1 oe K Be te 39 a cat
vice and opinion. “ Kneel not to me, woman, he said,

é but kneel to the God thou hast offended, more than

thou
sldct offend such another worm as thyself. How often
eouldst offena such another worm as thyse

| ; ane the cavest and the
have I told thee, when thou wert at the gayest and tbemnieeysi nein ‘
+ copra ean

es
oe RIN

WAVERLEY NOVELS.

lightest, that pride goeth before destruction, and a haughty
spirit before

-

fall? Vanity brought folly, and folly brou

a
sin, and sin hath brought death, his original companion.

ght
Thou must needs leave anty, and decency, and domestic
love, to revel it gaily with the wild and with the wicked
and there thou liest, like a ae ed worm, writhing beside
ifeless body of thy param Thou hast done me
much wrong—dishonoured me among iri

go f
credit from my house, and peace from my fireside—But

  

      

"en

thou wert my first and only love, and I will not see thee
“

an utter castaway, if it lies with me to prevent it Gentle-

men, I render ye such thanks as a broken-hearted man

can give.—Richard, commend me to your ee

  

master. added gall to the bitterness of his affliction

but I was deluded.—Rise up, woman, and follow me.”

;

He raised her up by the arm, while, with streaming
eyes, and bitter sobs, she endeavoured to express her
penitence. She kept her hands spread over her face,
yet suffered him to lead her away; and it was only as
they turned around a brake which concealed the scene
they had left, that she turned back, and casting one wild
and hurried glance towards the corpse of Dalgarno, ut-
tered a shriek, and clinging to her husband’s arm, ex-
claimed wildly,—“ Save me—save me! They have mur-
dered him ! ”

Lowestoffe was much moved by what he had witnessed ;
but he was ashamed, as a town gallant, of his own un-
fashionable emotion, and did a force to his feelings when
he exclaimed,—“Ay, let them eo—the kind-] hearted, be-

ye aaah | ] a he ee 17] ]
Oregivinge Ausband—the tber; acco ing

lieving, eral, accommodati

spouse. QO what a generous creature ig your true on:
don husband !—-Horns hath he, bu t, tame as a fatted ox,

“aAreat PE echanlaA i art > urh hp
he goreth not. I should like to see her when she | nasTHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 339

exchanged her mask and riding-beaver for her peaked
hat and muffler. We will visit them at Paul’s Wharf,
coz—it will be a convenient acquaintance.”

‘You had better think of catching the gipsy thief,

3)

Lovtin,” said Richie-Moniplies; “for, by my faith, he 1s
off with his master’s baggage and the siller.”

A keeper, with his assistants, and several other per-
sons, had now come to the spot, and made hue and cry
after Lutin, but in vain. To their custody the Templars
surrendered the dead bodies, and after going through
some formal investigation, they returned, with Richard
and Vincent to London, where they received great ap-
plause for their gallantry——Vincent’s errors were easily
expiated, in consideration of his having been the means
of breaking up this band of villains; and there is some
reason to think, that what would have diminish ed the
credit of the action in other instances, rather added to it
in the actual circumstances, namely, that they came too
late to save Lord Dalgarno.

George Heriot, who suspected how matters stood with
Vincent, requested and obtained permission from BE
master to send the Beer young fellow on an importar
piece of business to Paris. We are unable to trace his
fate farther, but believe it was prosperous, and that he
entered into an advantageous Sp > with his fellow~
apprentice, upon old Davy Ramsay 1 ‘etiring from busi-
ness, in consequence of ee laughter’s marriage. That
eminent antiquary, Dr. Dry adit is possessed i an an-
tique watch, with a si ilver dial-plate, the mainspring being
a piece of cat-gut inste ad of a chain, which bears the
rames of Vincent and J’ unstall, Memor y-Monitors.

Master Lowestoffe failed not to vindicate his characte1
as a man of gaiety, by inquiring atter Jobn Christie andboU WAVERLEY NOVELS.

Dame Nelly; but greatly to his surprise, (indeed to his
loss, for he had wagered ten pieces that he would domes-
ticate himself in the family,) he found the good will, as
it was called, of the shop was sold, the stock auctioned,
and the late proprietor and his wife gone, no one knew
whither. The prevailing belief was, that they had emi-
grated to one of the new setlements in America.

Lady Dalgarno received the news of her unworthy
husband’s death with a variety of emotions, among which,
horror that he should have been cut off in the middle
eareer of his profligacy, was the most prominent. The
incident greatly deepened. her melancholy, and injured
her healih, already shaken by previous circumstances.
| Repossessed of her own fortune by her husband’s death,
| she was anxious to do justice to ‘Lord Glenvarloch, by
| treating for the recovery of the mortgage. But the scriv-
A 1 ener, having taken fright at the late events, had left the
city and absconded, so that it was impossible to discover
into whose hands the papers had now passed. Richard
Moniplies was silent, for his own reasons; the Templars,
who had witnessed the transaction, kept the secret at his

 

request, and it was.universally believed that the scrivener
had carried off the writings along with him. We may
here observe, that fears similar to those of the scrivener

freed London for ever from the presence of Dame Sud-
dlechop, who ended her career in the Rasp-haus (viz
Bridewell) of Amsterdam.

The stout old Lord Huntinglen, with a haughty car-
riage and unmoistened eye, accompanied the funeral pro-
cession of his only son to its last abode ; and perhaps the
single tear which fell at length upon the coffin, was given
less to the fate of the individual, than_to the extinction of
the last male of his ancient race.THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 331

CHAPTER XXXVIL

Jacques —There is, sure, another flood toward, and these couples are coming
bo the ark !—Here cumes a pair of very strange beasts.
As You Likg fr.
Tue fashion of such narratives as the present, changes
like other earthly things. Time was that the tale-teller
was obliged to wind up his story by a circumstantial de-
scription of the wedding, bedding, and throwing the
stocking, as the grand catastrophe to which, through so
many circumstances of doubt and difficulty, he had at
length happily conducted his hero and heroine. Not a
circumstance was then omitted, from the manly ardour of
the bridegroom, and the modest blushes of the bride, to
the parson’s new surplice, and the silk tabinet mantua of
the bridesmaid. But such descriptions are now discarded,
for the same reason, I suppose, that public marriages are
no longer fashionable, and that, instead of calling together
their friends to a feast and a dance, the happy couple
elope in a solitary post-chaise, as secretly as if they
meant to go to Gretna-Green, or to do worse. T am not
angrateful for a change which saves an author the trouble
of attempting in \ vain to give a new colour to the come
monplace de re of such matters ; but, notwithstand-
ing, I ad myself forced upon it in the present instance.
as circumstances sometimes compel a stranger to make use
ff an a ad which has been for some time shut up»Bol | WAVERLEY NOVELS.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
  

The experienced reader may have already remarked, that
the last chapter was employed in sweeping out of the way
all the unnecessary and less interesting characters, that I
might clear the floor for a blithe bridal.

In truth, it would be unpardonable to pass over slightly
what so deeply interested our principal personage, King
James. That learned and good-humoured monarch made
no great figure in the politics of Europe; but then, to
make amends, he was prodigiously busy, when he could
find a fair opportunity of intermeddling with the private
affairs of his loving subjects; and the approaching mar-
\ | riage of Lord Glenvarloch was matter of great interest
| to him. He had been much struck (that is, for him, who
was not very accessible to such emotions) with the beauty
and embarrassment of the pretty Peg-a-Ramsay, as he
ia called her, when he first saw her, and he glorified himself
s | greatly on the acuteness which he had displayed in de-
tecting her disguise, and in carrying through the whole

inquiry which took place in consequence of it.
He laboured for several weeks, while the courtship was
in progress, with his own royal eyes, so as well-nigh to

 

wear out, he declared, a pair of her father’s best barna-
cles, in searching through old books and documents, for
the purpose of establishing the bride’s pretensions to a
noble, though remote descent, and thereby remove the
only objection which envy might conceive against the
natch. In his own opinion, at least, he was eminently
suécessful; for, when Sir Mungo Malagrowther one day,

'
:

in the presence-chamber, took upon him to grieve bitterly
for the bride’s lack of pedigree, the monarch cut him
short with, “Ye may save your grief for your ain next
occasions, Sir Mungo; for, by our royal saul, we will]
uphauld her father, Davy Ramsay, to be a gentleman ofin|

   
 
 
 
  
  
 
 
  
 
   
 
 
 
  
  
 
 
  
 
  
  
  
 
 
    
  
    

THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 333

nine descents, whase great gude-sire came of the auld
martial stock of the House of Dalwolsey, than whom
better men never did, and better never will, draw sword
for King and country. Heard ye never of Sir William
Ramsay of Dalwolsey, man, of whom John Fordoun
saith,—‘ He was Jbellicosissimus, nobilissimus ?’—His
castle stands to witness for itsell, not three miles from
Dalkeith, man, and within a mile of Bannockrigg. Davy
Ramsay came of that auld and honoured stock, and I
trust he hath not derogated from his ancestors by his
present craft. They all wrought wi’ steel, man; only the
auld knights drilled holes wi’ their swords in their ene-
mies’ corselets, and he saws nicks in his brass wheels.
And I hope it is as honourable to give eyes to the blind
as to slash them out of the head of those that see, and to
show us how to value our time as it passes, as to fling it
away in drinking, brawling, spear-splintering, and such-
like unchristian doings. And you maun understand, that
Davy Ramsay is no mechanic, but follows a liberal art,
which approacheth almost to the act of creating a living
being, seeing it may be said of a watch, as Claudius saith
of the sphere of Archimedes, the Syracusan—

‘TInclusus variis famulatur spiritus astris,
Et vivum certis motibus urget opus.’ ”’

“Your Majesty had best give auld Davy a coat-of- .
arms, as well as a pedigree,” said Sir Mungo.

“Je’s done, or ye bade, Sir Mungo,” said the King ;
é and I trust we, who are the fountain of all earthly hon-
yur, are free to spirt a few drops of it on one so near Our (

LUO
(9 Gy

. 2 i \ Fete cr Se Loa a
person, without offence to the Knight or Vastle Girnigo.
Ve have already spoken with the learned men of the
Herald’s College, and we propose to grant Lim an augB34 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

mented coat-of-arms, being his paternal coat, charged with
the crown-wheel of a watch in chief, for a difference ; and
we purpose to add Time and Eternity, for supporters, as
soon as the Garter King-at-Arms shall be able to devise
how Eternity is to be represented.”

“T would make him twice as muckle as Time,” * said
Archie Armstrong, the Court fool, who chanced to be
present when the King stated this dilemma.

“Peace, man—ye shall be whippet,” said the King, in
return for this hint; “and you, my liege subjects of Eng-
Jand, may weel take a hint from what we have said, and
not be in such a hurry to laugh at our Scottish pedigrees,
though they be somewhat long derived, and difficult to be
deduced. Ye see that a man of right gentle blood may,
for a season, lay by his gentry, and yet ken whare to find
it, when he has occasion for it. It would be as unseemly
for a packman, or pedlar, as ye call a travelling-merchant,
whilk is a trade to which our native subjects of Scotland
are specially addicted, to be blazing his genealogy in the
faces of those to whom he sells a bawbee’s worth of rib-
bon, as it would be to him to have a beaver on his head,
and a rapier by his side, when the pack was on _ his
shoulders. Na, na—he hings his sword on the cleek,
lays his beaver on the shelf, puts his pedigree into his
pocket, and gangs as doucely and cannily about his ped-
ling craft as if his blood was nae better than ditch-
water; but let our pedlar be transformed, as I have kend
it happen mair than ance, into a bein thriving merchant,
ten ye shall have a transformation, my lords,

‘In nova fert animus mutatas dicere formas’

 

* Chaucer says, there is nothing new but what it has been old. The
*eader has here the original of an anecdote which has since been fath.
tred on a Scottish Chief of our own time.a aa ae a

  
 
 
 
    
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
  
  
  
 
 
  
  
 
  
 
 
  
  
    
  
 
 
 
  
 
   

THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 335

1

Out he pulls his pedigree, on he buckles his sword, gives
his beaver.a brush, and cocks it in the face of all crea-
tion. Wemention these things at the mair length, be-
cause we would have you all to know, that it is not with-
out due consideration of the circumstances of all parties,
that we design, in a small and private way, to honour
with our own royal presence the eee of Lord Glen-
varloch with Margaret Ramsay, daughter and heiress of
David Ramsay, our horologer, and a cadet only thrice
removed from the ancient house of Dalwolsey. We are
grieved we cannot have the presence of the noble > Chief
of that House at the ceremony ; but where there is hon-
our to be won abroad, the Lord D: ulwolsey is seldom to be
found at home. Sie fuit, est, et erit.—Jingling Geordie,
as ye stand to the cost of the marriage-feast, we look for
good cheer.”

Heriot bowed, as in ue bound. In fact, the King,
who was a great politician about trifles, had manceuvred
greatly on “this occasion, Ba had contrived to get the
Prince and Buckingham despatched on an expedition to
Newmarket, in order that he might find an opportunity in
their absence of indulging himself in his own ee
roshering habits, which were distasteful to Charles, whose
temper inclined to formality, and with eich” even tha
favourite, of late, had not thought it worth wl hile to seers
to sympathize. When the levee was dismissed, Sir Man ai
go Malagrowther se eized upon the eS citizen in the
court-yard of the Palace, and detained him, in spite of
all his efforts, for the purpose of subje

‘ollowing scrut iny :—

cting him to the
: ans NT ee qi Es

“This is a sair job on you, Master George—the King

must have had little consider a will cost you 4

bonny penny, t this wedding-dinner: 27WAVERLEY NOVELS.

“Tt will not break me, Sir Mungo,” answered Heriot;
“the King hath a right to see the table which his bounty
hath supplied for years well covered for a single day.”

“ Vera true, vera true—we'll have a to pay, I doubt,
less or mair—a sort of penny-wedding it will prove,
where all men contribute to the young folk’s mainte-
nance, that they may not have just four bare legs in a bed
thegether. What do you purpose to give, Master Georges
—we begin with the city when money is in question.” *

“Only a trifle, Sir Mungo—I give my god-daughter
I bought it in

 

the marriage-ring ;_ it is a curious el
Italy ; it belonged to Cosmo de Medici. The bride will
not need my help—she has an estate which belonged to
her maternal grandfather.”

“The auld soap-boiler,” said Sir Mungo; “it will need
some of his suds to scour the blot out of the Glenvarloch
shield—I have heard that estate was no great things.”

“Tt is as good as some posts at Court, Sir Mungo,
which are coveted by persons: of high quality,” replied
George Heriot.

“ Court favour, said ye? Court favour, Master Her-
jot ?
ady of misapprehension; ‘“ Moonshine in water, poor
thing, if that is all she is to be tochered with—I am truly

” replied Sir Mungo, choosing then to use his mal-

policitous about them.”

“T will let you into a secret,” said the citizen, “ which
will relieve your tender anxiety. The dowager Lady
Dalgarno gives a competent fortune to the bride, and

* The penny-wedding of the Scots, now disused even among the
‘owest ranks, was a peculiar species of merry-making, at which, if
the wedded pair were popular, the guests who convened, contributed
considerable sums under pretence of paying for the bridal festivity
‘ut in reality to set the married folk afloat in the world.Taam elas

        
 
 
  
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
  
 
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
   

THE FORTUNES

  

OF NIGEL.
settles the rest of her estat her

s the rest of her estate upon her nephew the bride-
groom.”

c

AY, sa xe ye sae?” said

         

Sir Mungo, “just to show hex
regard to her husband that is in the tomb that her
nephew td not send him there; it was a strange story

that death of poor Lord Dalgarno—some folk think the
poor gentleman had much wrong. Little good comes of
marrying the daughter of the house you are at feud with;
indeed, it was less poor Dalgarno’s fault, than thems that
forced the match on him; but I am glad the young folks
are to have something to live on, come how it like, whe-
ther by charity or aiheritamce! But if the Lady Dal-
garno were to sell all she has, even to her very wylie-
coat, she canna gie them back the fair Castle of Glenvar-
loch—that is lost and gane—lost and gane.”

“Tt is but too true,” said George Heriot; “we cannot
discover what has become of the villain Andrew Skurlie-
whitter, or what Lord Dalgarno has done with the mort-
gage.”

“Assigned it away to some one, that his wife might not
get it after he was gane; it would have disturbed him in

£

his grave, to think Glenvarloch should get that land back

again,” said Sir Mungo; “ depend on it, he will have

ta’en sure measures to keep that noble lordship out of her

grips or her nevoy’s el ther.”
“Indeed it is but too probable, Sir Mungo,” said

Master Heriot; “but as I am obliged to go and look

after many things in consequence of this ceremony, I

mael leave you to comfort yourself with the reflec- \

tion.”
AG. eg
“The bride-day, you say, is to be on the t hirtieth of
the instant month?” said Sir Mungo, holloing 5 ace the

citizen; “I will be with you in the hour of cause.”
VOL. XXVIII. 22338 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

“The King invites the guests,” said George Heriot,
without turning back.

“The base-born, ill-bred mechanic!” solioquized Sir
Mungo, “if it were not the odd score of pounds he lent
me last week, I would teach him how to bear himself to a
man of quality! But I will be at the bridal banquet in
spite of him.”

Sir Mungo contrived to get invited, or commanded, te

I

attend on the bridal accordingly, at which there were but

few persons present; for James, on such occasions, pre-
ferred a snug privacy, which gave him liberty to lay aside
the encumbrance, as he felt it to be, of his regal dignity.
The company was very small, and indeed there were at
least two persons absent whose presence might have been
expected. The first of these was the Lady Dalgarno, the
state of whose health, as well as the recent death of her
husband, precluded her attendance on the ceremony. The
other absentee was Richie Moniplies, whose conduct for
some time past had been extremely mysterious. Regu-
lating his attendance on Lord Glenvarloch entirely
according to his own will and pleasure, he had, ever since
the rencounter in Enfield Chase, appeared regularly at
his bedside in the morning, to assist him to dress, and at
his wardrobe in the evening. The rest of the day he
disposed of at his own pleasure, without control from his
lord, who had now a complete establishment of attendants.
Yet he was somewhat curious to know how the fellow
disposed of so much of his time; but on this subject
Richie showed no desire to be communicative.

On the morning of the bridal-day, Richie was particu-
larly attentive in doing all a valet-de-chambre could, so as
to set off to advantage the very handsome figure of
his*master ; and when he had arranged his dress with theiene

  
 
 
 
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
   

   

YHE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 339
utmost exactness, and put to his long curled locks what
he called “the finishing touch of the redding-kaim,” he
gravely kneeled down, kissed his hand, and bade him fare-
well, saying that he humbly craved leave to discharge
himself of his lordship’s service. :

“ Why, what. humour is this?” said Lord Glenvarloch ;
“if you mean to discharge yourself of my service,
Richie, I suppose you intend to enter my wife’s ?”

“J wish her good ladyship that shall soon be, and your
good lordship, the blessings of as good a servant as my-
self, in Heaven’s good time,” said Richie; “ but fate hath
so ordained it, that I can henceforth only be your servant
in the way of friendly courtesy.”

“ Well, Richie,” said the young lord, “if you are tired
of service, we will seek some better provision for you;
but you will wait on me to the church, and partake of the
bridal dinner ?”

“Under favour, my lord,” answered Richie, “I must
remind you of our covenant, having presently some
pressing business of mine own, whilk will detain me
during the ceremony; but I will not fail to prie Master
George’s good cheer, in respect he has made very costly
fare, whilk it would be unthankful not to partake of.”

“Do as you list,” answered Lord Glenvarloch; and
having bestowed a passing thought on the whimsical and mit
pragmatical disposition of his follower, he dismissed the
subject for others better suited to the day.

The reader must fancy the scattered flowers which
strewed the path of the happy couple to church—the loud
music which accompanied the procession—the marriage
service performed by a Bishop—the King, who met them
at Saint Paul’s, giving away the bride,—to the great
relief of her father, who had thus time, during the cere<Pree.
EP RD I Se SR

ns RRR reartinn J.

ra

Cotte catia

   
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
  
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
  

540 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

mony, to calculate the just quotient to be laid on the
pinion of report in a time-piece which he was then put-
ting together.

When the ceremony was finished, the company. were
transported in the royal carriages to George Heriot’s,
where a splendid collation was provided for the marriage-
guests in the Foljambe apartments. The King no sooner
found himself in this snug retreat, than casting from him
his sword and belt with as much haste as if they burnt
his fingers, and flinging his plumed hat on the table, as
who should say, Lie there, authority! he swallowed a
hearty cup of wine to the happiness of the married
couple, and began to amble about the room, mumping,
laughing, and cracking jests, neither the wittiest nor the
most delicate, but accompanied and applauded by shouts
of his own mirth, in order to encourage that of the com-
pany. Whilst his Majesty was in the midst of this gay
humour, and a call to the banquet was anxiously eX-
pected, a servant whispered Master Heriot forth of the
apartment. When he re-entered, he walked up to the
King, and, in his turn, whispered something, at which
James started.

«He is not wanting his siller?” said the King, shortly
and sharply.

«By no means, my liege,” answered Heriot. “ It is &
subject he states himself as quite indifferent about, so long
as it can pleasure your Majesty.”

“Body of us, man!” said the King, “it is the speech
of a true man and a loving subject, and we will grace him

a twopenny

 

what though he be but a carle

 

accordingly
eat may look at a king. Swith, man! have him—pan-
dite fores.—Moniplies?—They should have called the
chield Monypennies, though I sall warrant you English
think we have not such a name in Scotland.”THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL.

“Tt is an ancient and honourable stock, the Monypen:
nies,” said Sir Mungo Malagrowther; “the only loss 1s,
there are sae few of the name.”

“The family seems to increase among your country-
men, Sir Mungo,” said Master Lowestofie, whom Lord
Glenvarloch had invited to be present, “since his
Majesty’s happy accession brought so many of you
here.”

“Right, sir—right,” said Sir Mungo, nodding and
looking at George Heriot; “there have some of our-
selves been the better of that great blessing to the Eng-
lish nation.”

As he spoke, the door flew open, and in entered, to the
astonishment of Lord Glenvarloch, his late serving-man
Richie Moniplies, now sumptuously, nay, gorgeously,
attired in a superb brocaded suit, and leading in his hand
the tall, thin, withered, somewhat distorted form of
Martha Trapbois, arrayed in a complete dress of black
velvet, which suited so strangely with the pallid and
severe melancholy of her countenance, that the King
himself exclaimed, in some perturbation, “ What the
dei] has the fallow brought us here? Body of our regal
selves! it is a corpse that has run off with the mort-
cloth !”

“May I sifilicate your Majesty to be gracious unto
her?” said Richie, “being that she is, in respect of this
morning’s wark, my ain wedded wife, Mrs. Martha Moni-
plies by name.”

“ Saul of our body, man! but she looks wondrous grim,”
answered King James, “ Art thou sure she has not been
in her time maid of honour to Queen Mary, our kins-
woman of red-hot memory?”

«J am sure, an it like your Majesty, that she has

22-*842 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

brought me fifty thousand pounds of good siller and
better; and that has enabled me to pleasure your Maj-
esty and other folk.”

“ Ye need have said naething about that, man,” said
the King; “we ken our obligations. in that sma’ matter,
and we are glad this rudas spouse of thine hath bestowed
her treasure on ane wha kens to put it to the profit of his
King and country.—But how the deil did ye come by
her, man?”

“In the auld Scottish fashion, my liege. She is the
captive of my bow and my spear,” answered Moniplies,
“There was a convention that she should wed me
when I avenged her father’s death—so I slew, and took
possession.”

“Tt is the daughter of old T rapbois, who has. been
missed so long,” said Lowestoffe.—< Where the devil
could you mew her up so closely, friend Richie ? ”

“ Master Richard, if it be your will,” answered Richie,
“or Master Richard Moniplies, if you like it better. For
mewing of her up, I found her a shelter, in all honour
and safety, under the roof of an honest countryman of
my own—and for secrecy, it was a point of prudence,
when wantons like you were abroad, Master Lowestoffe.”

There was a laugh at Richie’s magnanimous reply, on
the part of every one but his bride, who made to him a
signal of impatience, and said, with her usual brevity and
sternness,—“ Peace, peace. I pray you, peace. Let us
do that which we came for.” So saying, she took out a
bundle of parchments, and delivering them to Lord Glen-
varloch, she said aloud,—é I

 

take this royal presence, and
all here to witness, that I restore the ransomed lordship
of Glenvarloch to the right owner

, as free as ever it was
held by any of his ancestors.”aaa cs

     
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
  
   
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
      

THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 343

“JT witnessed the redemption of the mortgage,” said
Lowestoffe ; “but I little dreamt by whom it had been
redeemed.”

“ No need ye should,” said Richie; “ there would have
been small wisdom in crying roast-meat.”

“ Peace,” said his bride, “ once more.—This paper,”
she continued, delivering another to Lord Glenvarloch,
“is also your property—take it, but spare me the ques-
tion how it came into my custody.”

The King had bustled forward beside Lord Glenvar-
loch, and fixing an eager eye on the writing, exclaimed—
“ Body of ourselves, it is our royal sign-manual for the
money which was so long out of sight !—How came you
by it, Mistress Bride ?”

“Jt is a secret,” said Martha, dryly.

“ A secret which my tongue shall never utter,” said
Richie, resolutely,—*“ unless the King commands me on
my allegiance.” :

“J do—I do command you,” said James, trembling and
stammering with the impatient curiosity of a gossip;
while Sir Mungo, with more malicious anxiety to get at
the bottom of the mystery, stooped his long thin form
forward like a bent fishing-rod, raised his thin gray locks
from his ear, and curved his hand behind it to collect
every vibration of the expected intelligence. Martha in | .
the meantime frowned most ominously on Richie, who
went on undauntedly to inform the King, “that his de-
ceased father-in-law, a good careful man in the main, had
a touch of worldly wisdom about him, that at times .
marred the uprightness of bis walk; he liked to dabble
among his neighbour's gear, and some of it would at times
stick to his fingers in the handling.” |

“For shame, man, for shame!” said Martha; “ sinceoe i patna

844 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

the infamy of the deed must be told, be it at least briefly
—Yes, my lord,” she added, addressing Glenvarloch,
“the piece of gold was not the sole bait which brought
the miserable old man to your chamber that dreadful
night—his object, and he accomplished it, was to purloin
this paper. The wretched scrivener was with him that
morning, and I doubt not, urged the doting old man to
this villainy, to offer another bar to the ransom of your
estate. If there was a yet more powerful agent at the
bottom of the conspiracy, God forgive it to him at
this moment, for he is now where the crime must be
answered !”

“Amen!” said Lord Glenvarloch, and it was echoed
by all present.

“For my father,” continued she, with her stern features
twitched by an involuntary and convulsive movement,
“his guilt and folly cost him his life; and my belief is
constant, that the wretch who counselled him that morn-
ing to purloin the paper, left open the window for the
entrance of the murderers.”

Every body was silent for an instant; the King was
first to speak, commanding search instantly to be made
for the guilty scrivener. “JZ lector,” he concluded, “ col-
liga manus—caput obnubito—infelici suspendite arbort.”

Lowestoffe answered with due respect, that the scrive-
ner had absconded at the time of Lord Dalgarno’s murder,
and had not been heard of since.

“Let him be sought for,” said the King. “And now
let us change the discourse—these stories make one’s
very blood grew,* and are altogether unfit for bridal
festivity. Hymen, O Hymenee!” added he, snapping
his fingers, “ Lord Glenvarloch, what say you to Mistress

* Thrill, or curdle.a a ee cel

      
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
  
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
   
   
   

THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL. 3495

Moniplies, this bonny bride, that has brought you back
your father’s estate on your bridal day?”

‘“¢ Let him say nothing, my liege,” said Martha; “ that
will best suit his feelings and mine.”

‘There is redemption-money, at the least, to be re-
paid,” said Lord Glenvarloch ; ” in that I cannot remain
debtor.”

“We will speak of it hereafter,” said Martha, “ my
debtor you cannot be.” And she shut her mouth as if
determined to say nothing more on the subject.

Sir Mungo, however, resolved not to part with the
topic, and availing himself of the freedom of the moment,
said to Richie — “‘ A queer story that of your father-in-
law, honest man; methinks your bride thanked you lit-
tle for ripping it up.”

“T make it a rule, Sir Mungo,”

replied Richie, “ al-
ways to speak any evil I know about my family myself,
having observed, that if I do not, it is sure to be told by
ither folks.”

“ But, Richie,” said Sir Mungo, “it seems to me that
this bride of you is like to be master and mair in the
conjugal state.’

“Tf she abides by words, Sir Mungo,” answered Richie,
‘;T thank Heaven I can be as deaf as any one; and if
she comes to dunts, I have twa hands to paik her with.”

“Weel said, Richie, again,” said the King; “ you have rh
gotten it on baith haffits, Sir Mungo. — Troth, Mise
Bride, for a fule, your gugeman has a pretty turn of wit.’

“ There are fools, sire,” replied she, “who have w its
and fools who. have sougage
learning, and are great fools notwithstanding. — I chose
this man because he was my protector when I was deso-
late, and neither for his wit nor his wisdom. He is truly

 

ay, and fools who havei
if

846 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

honest, and has a heart and hand that make amends for
some folly. Since I was condemned to seek a protectoy
through the world, which is to me a wilderness, I may
thank God that I have come by no worse.”

“ And that is sae sensibly said,” replied the King, “that,
by my saul, Pll try whether I canna make him better.
Kneel down, Richie—somebody lend me a rapier—
yours, Mr. Langstaff; (that’s a brave name for a lawyer,)
—ye need not flash it out that gate, Templar fashion, as
if ye were about to pink a bailiff !” :

He took the drawn sword, and with averted eyes, for it
was a sight he loved not to look on, endeavoured to lay it
on Richie’s shoulder, but nearly stuck it into his eye.
Richie, starting back, attempted to rise, but was held
down by Lowestoffe, while Sir Mungo, guiding the royal
weapon, the honour-bestowing blow was given and re-
ceived : “ Surge, carnifec—Rise up, Sir Richard Moni-
plies, of Castle-Collop !—And, my lords and leges, let us
all to our dinner, for the cock-a-leekie is cooling.”

END OF THE FORTUNES OF NIGEL.THE BLACK DWARAhoia bien, dixo tl Cura: traedme, senor huésped, aquesis libros, que

ks quiero ver. Que me- place, respondié el; y entrando en su aposento,
gcd del una maletilla vieja cerrada con una cadenilla, y abriéndola, hallé
en ella tres libros grandes y unos papeles de muy buena letra escritos de
mano.—DON QUIXOTE, Parte I. Capitulo 82.

It is mighty weil, said the priest: pray, landlord, bring me those
oooks, for I have a mind to see them. With all my heart, answered
the host; and going to his chamber, he brought out a little old cloke-
bag, with a padlock and chain to it, and opening it, he took out three
large volumes, and some manuscript papers written ina fine char-
acter.—JAE.vis’s Translation.£
i
i
a
€

nan

ABLACK DWARF.

INTRODUCTION—(1829.) ‘

T'ne ideal being who is here presented as residing i
solitude, and haunted by a consciousness of his own
deformity, and a suspicion of his being generally subjected
to the scorn of his fellow-men, is not altogether imaginary.
An individual existed many years since, under the author's
observation, which suggested such a character. ‘This poor
unfortunate man’s name was David Ritchie, a native of
Tweeddale. He was the son of a labourer in-the slate-
quarries of Stobbo, and must have been born in the mis-
shapen form which he exhibited, though he sometimes
imputed it to ill-usage when in infancy. He was bred a
prush-maker at Edinburgh, and had wandered to several
places, working at his trade, from all which he was chased
by the disagreeable attention which his hideous singularity
vf form and face attracted wherever he came. The author
understood him to say he had even been in Dublin.

Tired at length of being the object of shouts, laughte:
and derision David Ritchie resolved, like a deer hunted
from the herd, to retreat to some wilderness, where he
might have the least possible communication with the
world which scoffed at him. He settled himself, with this

view, upon a patch of wild moorland at the bottom of a6 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

bank on the farm of Woodhouse, in the sequestered vale
of the small river Manor, in Peebleshire. The few
people who had occasion to pass that way were much
surprised, and some superstitious persons a little alarmed,
to see so subnEe a figure as Bow’d Davie (¢. e., Crooked

David) employed in a task, for which he seemed so tot: ly
unfit, as that of erecting a house. The cottage which he
built was extre nely small, but the walls, as well as those
of a little garden that surrounded it, were constructed
with an ambitious degree of solidity, being composed of
layers of large stones and turf; and some of the corner
Stones were so weighty, as to puzzle the spectators how
such a person as the architect could possibly have raised
them. In fact, David received from passengers, or those
who came attracted by curiosity, a good deal of assist-
ance ; and as no one knew how much aid had been given
by others, the wonder of each individual remained undi-
minished.

The- proprietor of the ground, the late Sir James
Naesmith, B >aronet, chane ed t to pass this singular dwelling,
which, having been placed there without right or leave

asked or given, formed an exact parallel with Falstaff’s
simile of a “fair house built on another’s ground ;” se
that poor David might have lost his edifice by mistaking
the property where he had erected it. Of course, the
proprietor entertained no idea of exacting such a forfeit-
ure, but readily sanctioned the harmless encroachment.

The personal descri ee of Elshender of Mucklestane
Moor has been gener uly allowed to be a tole: rably exact
and unexageerate d portrait of David of Manor Water.
He was not quite three feet and a half high, since he
could stand upright in the door of his mansion, which was

just that height. The following particulars concerningata aa

    
  
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
 
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
 
 
  
 
 
 
  
 
  
  
   
  
 
  
  
 

NITRODUCTION TO THE BLACK DWARF.

his figure and temper occur in the Scots Magazine for

O

Eis A ea rA xy: ek an F
1817. and are now unde! stood to have been communi ated

SS th A ANG - So Tee. ES s Whe : , .
by the ingenious Mr. Robert Chambers of Edinburgh,

who has recorded with much spirit the traditions of the

ably added to the s
is the countryman of David Ritchie, and had the best

ee nN i pale mn : . :
Good Town, and, in other publications, largely and agree-
{

ock of our popular antiquities. He

access to collect anecdotes of him.

“ His skull,” says this authority, “which was of an
oblong and rather unusual shape, was said to be of such
strength, that he could strike +t with ease through the
panel of a door, or the end of a barrel. His laugh is
said to have been quite horrible ; and his screech-owl
voice, shrill, uncouth, and dissonant, corresponded well
with his other peculiarities.

“ There was nothing very uncommon about his dress.
He usually wore an old slouched hat when he went
abroad; and when at home, a sort of cowl, or night-cap.
He never wore shoes, being unable to adapt them to his
mis-shapen finlike feet, but always had both feet and legs
quite concealed, and wrapped up with pieces. of cloth.
He always walked with a sort of pole or pike-staff, con-
siderably taller than himself. His habits were, in many
respects, singular, and indicated a mind congenial to its
A jealous, misanthropical, and irri- | :

uncouth tabernacle.
s hi The sense

s prominent characteristic.
ted him like a phantom. And the
exposed him, had poisoned

sable temper was
of his deformity haun
insults and scorn to which this
nis heart with fierce and bitter fe
his character, do not appeat to have been mcreé
han that of

elings, whieh from other

points in

largely infused into his original te nperament t

bis ie
“ Fe detested children on a

1 2
llow-men.

scount of their propensityaI FES

5 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

to insult and persecute him. To strangers he was gen:
erally reserved, crabbed, and surly ; and though he by
no means refused assistance or charity, he seldom either
expressed or exhibited much gratitude. Even towards
persons who had ae his greatest benefactors, and who
possessed the greatest share of his good-will, he fre-
quently disp lived si rated caprice and jealousy. A lady
who had known him from his infancy, and who has fur-
nished us in the most obliging manner with some particu-
lars respecting him, says, that although Davie shewed as
much respect and attachment to her father’s family as it
was in his nature to show to any, yet they were always
obliged to be very cautious in their deportment towards
him. One day, having gone to visit him with another
lady, he took them through his garden, and was showing
them, with much pride and good-humour, all his rich and
tastefully assorted borders, when they happened to stop
near a plot of cabbages which had been somewhat in-
jured by the caterpillars. Davie observing one of the
Jadies smile, instantly assumed his savage, scowling as-
pect, rushed among the cabbages, and-dashed them to
pieces with his kent, exclaiming, ‘I hate the worms, for
they mock me !’

“ Another lady, likewise a friend and old acquaintance
of his, very unintentionally gave David mortal offence on
a simuar occasion. Throwing back his jealous glance as
he was ushering her into his garden, he fancied he ob-
served her spit, and exclaimed with great ferocity, ‘Am
Ta toad, woman! that ye spit at me

     

at ye’ spit at
me?’ and without listening to any answer or excuse, drove
her out of his garden with imprecations and insult. When
writated by persons for whom he entertained little respect,
his misanthropy displayed itself in words, and sometimesINTRODUCTION TO THE BLACK DWARR, 3

m actions, of still greater rudeness; and he used on such
pecasions the most unusual and singularly savage impre-
cations and threats.” *

Nature maintains a certaim balance of good and evil in
all her works ; and there is no state perhaps so ut aie
desolate, which does not possess some source of gratific:
tion peculiar to itself. T1is poor man, whose misan-
thropy was founded in a s-nse of his own preternatural
daformity, had yet his own particular enjoyments. Driven
into solitude, he became an admirer of the beauties of
nature. His garden, which he sedulously cultivated, and
from a piece of wild moorland made a very productive
spot, was his pride and his delight; but he was also an
admirer of more natural beauty: the soft sweep of the
ereen hill, the bubbling of a clear fountain, or the com-
plexities of a wild thicket, were scenes on which he often
gazed for hours, and, as he said, with inexpressible de-
light. It was perhaps for this reason that he was fond
of Shenstone’s pastorals, and some parts of Paradise
Lost. The author has heard his most unmusical voice
repeat the celebrated description of Paradise, which he
seemed fully to appreciate. [His other studies were of -<
different cast, chiefly polemical. He never went to ie
parish church, and was therefore suspected of entertain-
ing heterodox opinions, though his objection was prob-
ably to the concourse of spectators, to whom he must
have exposed his unseemly deformity. He spoke of
future state with intense feeling, and even with tears.
He aie disgust at the idea of his remains being
mixed with the common rubbish, as he called it, of the
ehurchy md and selected with his usual taste a beautiful
and wild spot in the glen where he had his hermitage, 10

* Scots Magazine, vol. Ixxx. p. 207.i
(
i.

 

10 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

which to take his last repose. He changed his mind
however, and was finally interred in the common burial
eround of Manor Parish. The author has invested
Wise Elshie with some qualities which made him appeat
in the eyes of the vulgar, a man possessed of supernatu-
ral power. Common fame paid David Ritchie a similar
compliment; for some of the poor and ignorant, as well
as all the children in the neighbourhood, held him te be
what is called uneanny. -He himself did not altogether
discourage the idea; it enlarged his very limited circle
of power, and in so far gratified his conceit; and it
soothed his misanthropy, by increasing his means of
giving terror or pain. But even in a rude Scottish glen
thirty years back, the fear of sorcery was very much out
of date.

David Ritchie affected to frequent solitary scenes, es-
pecially such as were supposed to be haunted, and
valued himself upon his courage in doing so. To be
sure he had little chance of meeting anything more
ugly than himself. At heart, he was superstitious, and
planted many rowans (mountain ashes) around his hut,
ns a certain defence against necromancy. — For the same
reason, doubtless, he desired to haye rowan trees set about
his grave.

We have stated that David Ritchie loved objects of

ry:
ri

natural beauty. His only living favourites were a dog
and a cat, to hich he was particularly attached, and his
bees, which he treated with great care. He took a sister,

latterly, to live in a hut adjacent to his own, but he did
not permit her to enter it. She was weak in intellect,
but not deformed in person; simple, or rather silly, but
not, like her oe sullen or bizarre. David was never
affectionate to ber: it was not in his nature: but heINTRODUCTION TO THE BLACK DWARF. 1]

endured her. He maintained himself and her by the
sale of the produce of their garden and bee-hives ; and,
latterly, they had a small allowance from the parish.
Indeed, in the simple and patriarchal state in whfch the
ey then was, persons in the situation of David -and
his sister were sure to be supported. They had only te
apply to the next gentleman or respectable farmer, and
were sure to find them equally ready and willing to sup-
ply their very moderate wants. David, often received
gratuities from strangers, which he never asked, never
refused, and never seemed to ae as an obligation.
He had a right, indeed, to regard 1 himself as one of
Nature’s paupers, to whom she gave a title to be main-
tained by his kind, even by that deformity w hich closed
against him all ordmary ways of supporting himself by
his own labour. Besides, a bag was suspended in the
mill for David Ritchie’s benefit ; and those who were
carrying home am elder of meal, seldom failed to adda
gowpen,™ to the alms-bag of the deformed cripple. In
short, David had no oceasion for money, save to pur-
chase snuff, his only luxury, in which he indulged him-
celf liberally. When he died, in the beginning of the pres-
ent century, he was found to have hoarded about twenty
pounds, a habit very consistent with his disposition ; for
wealth is power, and power was W hat David Ritchie de-
sired to possess, as a compensation for his e3 xclusion from
human eke

His sister survived till the publication of the tale to
which this brief notice forms the introduction ; and the
author is sorry to learn that a sort of “local sympathy,”
and the curiosity then expressed concerning the Author
xf Waverley and the subjects of his Novels, expesed the

* Handful.= area

RR REET *

pe E

WAVERLEY NOVELS.

poor woman to inquiries which gave her pain. When
pressed about her brother’s peculiarities, she asked, in her
turn, why they would not permit the dead to rest? Te
otherewho pressed for some account of her parents, she
answered in thé same tone of feeling.

The author. saw this poor, and, it may be said, unhappy
man, in autumn 1797. Being then, as he has the happie
ness still to remain, connected by ties of intimate friend:
ship with the family of the venerable Dr. Adam Fergus-
son, the philosopher and historian, who then resided at
the mansion-house of Halyards, in the vale of Manor,
about a mile from Ritchie’s hermitage, the author was
upon a visit at Halyards, which lasted for several days,
and was made acquainted with this singular anchorite,
whom Dr. Fergusson considered as an extraordinary
character, and whom he assisted in various ways, par-
ticularly by the occasional loan of books. ‘Though the
taste of the philosopher and the poor peasant did not, it
may be supposed, always correspond,* Dr. Fergusson,
considered him as a man of a powerful capacity and orig-
inal ideas, but whose mind was thrown off its just bias
by a predominant degree of self-love and self-opinion,
galled by the sense of ridicule and contempt, and aveng-
ing itself upon society, in idea at least, by a gloomy mis-
anthropy.

David Ritchie, besides the utter obscurity of his life
while in existence, had been dead for many years, when
it occurred to the author that such a character might be
made a powerful agent in fictitious narrative. He, ac-

* J remember David was particularly anxious to see a book, which
1e called, I think, Letters to the Elect Ladies, and which, he said, was
ie best composition he had ever read; but Lr. Fergusson’s library
lid not supply the volume.INTRODUCTION TO THF BLACK DWARF. 1S

sordingly, sketched that of Elshie of the Mucklestane-
Moor. ‘The story was stended to be longer, and the
catastrophe more artificially brought .ovt; hrt a friendly
critic, to whose opinion I subjected the work in its progress;
was of opinion, that the idea of the Solitary was of a kind
too revolting, and more likely to disgust than to interest
the reader. As I had good right to consider my adviser
as an excellent judge of public opinion, I got off my
subject. by hastening the story to an end, as fast as it was
possible 5 and, by huddling into one volume, a tale which
was designed to occupy two, have perhaps produced a
narrative as much disproportioned and distorted, as the

Black Dwarf, who is its subject.THE-BEACK DWARF:

CHAPTER L
PRELIMINARY.

Hast any philosophy in thee, Shepherd?
AS YOU LIKE If.

Iv was a fine April morning (excepting that it had
snowed hard the night before, and the ground remained
e of six inches in depth)

rovered with a dazzling mantlh
the Wallace Inn. The

when two horsemen rode up to16 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

first was a strong, tall, powerful man, in a grey riding
coat, having a hat covered with wax-cloth, a huge silver-
mounted horsewhip, boots, and dreadnought overalls. He
was-mounted on a large strong brown mare, rough in coat
but well in condition, with a saddle of the yeomanry cut,
and a dquble-bitted military bridle. The man who accom-
panied him was apparently his servant; he rode a shagg
little grey pony, had a«blue bonnet on his head, and a
large check napkin folded about his neck, wore a pair cf
long blue worsted hose instead of boots, had his gloveless
hands much stained with far, and observed an air of defer-
ence and respect towards his companion, but without any
of those indications of precedence and punctilio which are
preserved between the gentry and their domestics. On
the contrary, the two travellers entered the court-yard
abreast, and the concluding sentence of the ‘conversation
which had been carrying on betwixt them was a joint
ejaculation, “ Lord guide us, an this weather last, what
will come o’ the lambs!” The hint was sufficient for my
Landlord, who, advancing to take the horse of the prin-
cipal person, and holding him by the reins as he dis-
mounted, while his ostler rendered the same service to
the attendant, welcomed the stranger= to Gandercleugh,
and, in the same breath, inquired, “ What news from the
south hielands ?”

“ News ?” said the farmer, “bad eneugh news, I think ;
—an we can carry through the yowes, it will be a’ we
can do; we maun e’en leave the lambs to the Black
Dwartf’s care.”

“Ay, ay,” subjoined the old shepherd, (for such he
was,) shaking his head, “he'll be unco busy amang the
morts this season.”

“The Black Dwarf!” said my learned friend anaaren

     
 
 
 
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
  
  
     
   

THE BLACK DWARE. lei

patron,* Mr. Jedediah Cleishbotham, “and what sort of a
personage may he be?”
“ Hout awa’, man,” answered the farmer, “ye’ll hae
heard o’ Canny Elshie the Black Dwarf, or I am muckle
nistaen— A’ the warld tells tales about him, but it’s but
daft nonsense after a’—I dinna believe a word o’t frae
beginning to end.”

 

“ Your father believed it unco stievely, though,” said
the old man, to whom the scepticism of his master gave
obvious displeasure.

“ Ay, very true, Bauldie, but that was in the time o’
the black-faces—they believed a hantle queer things in
thae days, that naebody heeds since the lang sheep cam
in.

“ The mair’s the pity, the mair’s the pity,” said the old

 

man. “ Your father,—and sae I-have aften tell’d ye,
maister,—wad hae been sair vexed to hae seen the auld
peel-house wa’s pu’d down to make park-dykes; and the
bonny broomy knowe where he liked sae weel to sit at
e’en, wi’ his plaid about him, and look at the kye as they
cam down the loaning, ill wad he hae liked to hae seen
that braw sunny knowe a’ riven out? wi’ the pleugh in the
fashion it is at this day.”

“ Hout, Bauldie,” replied the principal, “tak ye that
dram the landlord’s offering ye, and never fash your head
about the changes o’ the warld, sae lang as yere blithe |
and bien yoursell.”

* We have, in this and. other instances, printed in italics some few
words which the worthy editor, Mr. Jedediah Cleishbotham, seems to
have interpolated upon the text of his deceased friend, Mr. Pattieson.
We must observe, once for all, that such liberties seem only to have
heen taken by the learned gentleman where his own character and
conduct are concerned; and surely he must be the best judge of the

style in whick his ewn character and conduct should be treated of.

VOL. XI. 2Raye. oo

~ ie

seepage

<a

PP

WAVERLEY NOVELS.

“ Wussing your health, sirs,” said the shepherd; and
having taken off his glass, and observed the whisky was
the right thing, he continued, “ It’s no for the like @ us
to be judging, to be sure ; but it was a bonny knowe that
broomy knowe, and an unco braw shelter for the lambs
in a severe morning like this.”

“ Ay,” said his patron, “but ye ken we maun hae
turnips for the lang sheep, billie, and muckle hard wark
to get them, baith wi the pleugh and the howe; and that
wad sort ill wi sitting on the broomy knowe, and crack-
ing about Black Dwarfs, and siccan clavers, as was
the gate lang syne, when the short sheep were in the
fashion.”

“ Aweel, aweel, maister,’ said the attendant, “ short
sheep had short rents, ’m thinking.”

Here my worthy and learned patron again interposed,
and observed, “that he could never perceive any material
difference, in point of longitude, between one sheep and
another.”

This occasioned a loud hoarse laugh on the part of the
farmer, and an astonished stare on the part of the shepherd.
“Tt’s the woo’, man,—it’s the woo’, and no the beasts them-
sells, that makes them be ca’d lang or short. I believe
if ye were to measure their backs, the short sheep wad
be rather the langerbodied o’ the twa; but it’s the woo’
that pays the rent in thae days, and it had muckle need.”

“ Odd, Bauldie says very true,

 

short sheep did make
short rents—my father paid for our steading just three-
score punds, and it stands me in three hundred, plack
and bawbee.—And that’s very true—I hae nae time to
be standing here clavering— Landlord, get us our break-
fast, and see an’ get the yauds fed-—I am for doun to

Christy Wilson’s, to see if-him and me can gree aboutTHE BLACK DWARE. 19

the luckpenny Iam to gie him for his yearaulds. We
had drank sax mutchkins to the making the bargain at
St. Boswell’s fair, and some gate we canna gree upon the
particulars preceesely, for as muckle time as we teok
about it—I doubt we draw to a plea

 

But hear ye,
xeighbour,” addressing my worthy and learned patron,
“if ye want to hear ony thing about lang or short sheep,
I will be back here to my kail against ane o’clock ; or, if
ye want ony auld warld stories about the Black Dwarf,
and sic-like, if ye’lh ware a half mutchkin upon Bauldie
there, he’ll crack t’ye like a pen-gun. And Tse gie yea
mutchkin mysell, man, if I can settle weel wi Christy
Wilson.”

The farmer returned at the hour appointed, and with
him came Christy Wilson, their difference having been
fortunately settled without an appeal to the gentlemen
of the long robe. My learned and worthy patron failed
not to attend, both on account of the refreshment promised
+o the mind and to the body, although he 1s known to
partake of the latter in a very moderate degree; and the
party, with which my Landlord was associated, continued
to sit late in the evening, seasoning their liquor with
many choice tales and songs. The last incident which ]
recollect, was my learned and worthy patron falling from
his chair, just as he concluded a long lecture upon tem-
perance, by reciting, from the Gentle Shepherd, a couplet,
which he right happily transferred from the vice of avar-
ice to that of ebriety :-—

Te that has just eneugh may soundly sleep,
The owercome only fashes folk to keep.

: = Zz Ts eS 6
In the course of the evening the Black Dwarf* had

* The Black Dwarf, now almost forgotten, was once held a formi-
dable personage by the dalesmen of the Border, where he got the blamsy

ey

1 Aanmte- ana ara, A
agree RRR

20 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

not been forgotten, and the old shepherd, Bauldie, told se
many stories of him, that they excited a good deal of
interest. It also appeared, though not till the third
punch-bowl was emptied, that much of the farmer’s scepti-
cism on the subject was affected, as evincing a liberality
of thinking, and a freedom from ancient prejudices, be-
coming a man who paid three hundred pounds a-year of
rent, while, in fact, he had a lurking belief in the tradi-

of whatever mischief befell the sheep or cattle. “He was,”’ says Dr.
Leyden, who m: ne considerable use of a in the ballad called the
Cowt of Keeldar, “a fairy of the most malignant order—the genuine
Northern Deer ” The best and most authentic account of this
dangerous and Biv aterioud being occurs in a tale communicated to the
author by that eminent antiquary, Richard Surtees, Esq. of Mains-:
forth, author of the History of the Bist hopric of Durham.

According to this well attested legend, two young Northumbrians
were out on a shooting party, and hed plunged deep among the moun-
tainous moorlands which border on Cumberland. They stopped for
refreshment in a little secluded dell by the side of the rivulet. There,
after they had partaken of such food as they brought with ‘them, one
of the party fell asleep; the other, unwilling to disturb his friend’s
repose, stole silently out of the dell with the purpose of looking around
him, when he was astonished to find himself close to a being who
seemed not to belong to this world, as he was the most hideous dwarf
that the sun had ever shone on. His head was of ful] human size,
worming a frightful contrast with his height, which was consider: ably
under four feet. It was thatched with no other covering than long
matted red hair, like that of the felt of a badger ir consistence, and
m colour a feaudich brown, like the hue of a heather blossom. His
limbs seemed of great strength; nor was he otherwise deformed than
from their undue proportion in thickness to his diminutive height.
The terrified sportsman stood gazing on this horrible apparition, until,
with an angry countenance, the be eing demanded by what right he
intruded himself on ‘hose hills, and destroyed their harmless inhabi-
tants. The-perplexed stranger endeavoured to propitiate the incensed
dwarf, by offering to surrender his game, as he would to an earthly
Lord of the Manor. The proposal only redoubled the offence already
taken by the dwarf, who alleged that he was the lord ef those moun-
‘ains, and the protector of the wild creatures who found a retreat ipcee mn:

   
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
 
 
  
  
  
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
  
      

THE BLACK DWARF. 31

tions of his forefathers. After my usual manner, I made
further inquiries of other persons connected with the wild
and pastoral district in which the scene of the following
narrative is placed, and I was fortunate enough to recover
many links of the story, not generally known, and which
account, at least in some degree, for the circumstances of
exaggerated marvel with which superstition has attired it

n the more vulgar traditions.

peas @

their solitary recesses; and that all spoils derived from their death, or
misery, were abhorrent to him. The hunter humbled himself before
the angry goblin, and by protestations of his ignorance, and of his
resolution to abstain from such intrusion in future, at last succeeded
in pacifying him. The gnome now became more communicative, and
spoke of himself as belonging to a species of beings something between
the angelic race and humanity. He added, moreover, which could
hardly have been anticipated, that he had hopes of sharing in the
redemption of the race of Adam. He pressed the sportsman to visit
his dwelling, which he said was hard by, and plighted his fate for his
safe return. But at this moment the shout of the sportsman’s com-
panion was heard calling for his friend, and the dwarf, as if unwilling
that more than one person should be cognizant of his presence, disap-
peared as the young man emerged from the dell to join his comrade.

It was the universal opinion of those most experienced in such mat-
ters, that if the shooter had accompanied the spirit, he wou ., not-
withstanding the dwarf’s fair pretences, have been either torn to
pieces, or immured for years in the recesses of some fairy hill.

Such is the last and most authentic account of the apparition of the

Black Dwarf.WAVERLEY NOVELS.

CHAPTER IL.

Will none but Hearne the hunter serve your turn?

MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR.

In one of the most remote districts of the south of
Scotls:nd, where an ideal line, drawn along the tops of
lofty and bleak mountains, separates that land from her
sister kingdom, a young man called Halbert, or Hobbie
Elhot, a substantial farmer, who boasted his descent from
old Martin Elliot of the Preakin-tower, noted in Border
story and song, was on his return from deer-stalking.
The deer, once so numerous among these solitary wastes,
were now reduced to a very few herds, which, sheltering
themselves in the most remote and. inaccessible recesses,
rendered the task of pursuing them equally toilsome and
precarious. ‘There were, however, found many youth of
the country ardently attached to this sport, with all its
dangers and fatigues. The sword had been sheathed
upon the Borders for more than a hundred years, by the
peaceful union of the crowns in the reion of James the
First of Great Britain. Still the country retained traces
of what it had been in former days ; the inhabitants, their
more peaceful avocations haying been repeatedly inter.
rupted by the civil wars of the preceding century, were
scarce yet broken into the habits of regular industry, sheep-
farming had not been introduced upon any considerable
scale, and the feeding of black cattle was the chief pur:THE BLACK DWARF. 6) 2

—

yose to which the hills and valleys were applied. Near

l

ie Ae oz 2 ous 1)
o the farmer’s house, the tenant usually contrived to

er

raise such a crop of oats or barley as afforded meal for
his family ; and the whole of this slovenly and imperfect
mode of cultivation left much time upon his own hands,
and those of his domestics. ‘This was usua ly employed
by the young men in hunting and fishing; and the spirit
of adventure, which formerly led to raids and forays im
the same districts, was still to be discovered in the eager-
ness with which they pursued those rural sports.

The more -high-spirited among the youth were, about
the time that our narrative begins, expecting, rather with
hope than apprehension, an opportunity of emulating
their fathers in their military achievements, the recital of
which formed the chief part of their amusement within
doors. The passing of the Scottish act of security had
given the alarm to England, as it seemed to point at ¢
separation of the two British kingdoms, after the decease
of Queen Anne, the reigning sovereign. Godolphin, then
at the head of the English administration, foresaw that
there was no other mode of avoiding the probable ex-
tremity of a civil war, but by carrying through an incor-
porating union. How that treaty was managed, and how
little it seemed for some time to promise the beneficial
results which have since taken place to such extent, may
be learned from the history of the period. It is enough
for our purpose to say, that all Scotland was indignant at
the terms on which their legislature had surrendered their
national independence. The general resentment led to
the strangest leagues and to the wildest plans.
Cameronians were about to take arms for the restoration
of the house of Stuart, whom they regarded, with justice,

as their oppressors ; and the intrigues of the period pre:s
f
i!

Saar x
OER

eae aie
<a

 

24 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

sented the strange picture of papists, prelatists, and pres-
byterians, caballing among themselves against the English
government, out of a common feeling that their country
had been treated with injustice. The fermentation was
aniversal; and, as the population of Scotland had: beer
generally tramed to arms, under the act of security, they
were not indifferently prepared for war, and waited but
the declaration of some of the nobility to break out into
open hostility. It was at this period of public confusion
that our story opens.

Te cleugh, or wild ravine, into which Hobbie Elliot
had followed the game, was already far behind him, and
he was considerably advanced on his return homeward,
when the night began to close upon him. This would
have been a circumstance of great indifference to the
experienced sportsman, who could have walked blindfold
over every inch of his native heaths, had it not happened
near a spot, which, according to the traditions of the
country, was in extremely bad fame, as haunted by super-
natural appearances. To tales of this kind Hobbie had,
from his childhood, lent an attentive ear; and as no part
of the country afforded such a variety of legends, so no
man was more deeply read in their fearful lore than
Hobbie of the Heugh-foot; for so our gallant was called,
to distinguish him from a round dozen of Elliots whe
bore the same Christian name. It cost him no efforts,
therefore, to call to memory the terrific incidents con-
nected with the extensive waste upon which he was now
entering. In fact they presented themselves with a
readiness which he felt to be somewhat dismaying,

This dreary common was called Mucklestane-Moor,
trom a huge column of unhewn granite, which raised its
massy head on a knoll near the centre of the heath,THLE BLACK DWARF. 25

perhaps to tell of the mighty dead who slept beneath, or
to preserve the memory of some bloody skirmish. The
real cause of its existence had, however, passed away ;
and tradition, which is as frequently an inventor of fiction
as a preserver of truth, had supplied its place with a
supplementary legend of her own, which now came full
upon Hobbie’s memory. The ground about the pillar
was strewed, or rather encumbered, with many large
fragments of stone of the same consistence with the
column, which, from their appearance as they lay scat-
tered on the waste, were popularly called the Grey Geese
of Mucklestane-Moor. The legend accounted for this
name and appearance by the catastrophe of a noted and
most formidable witch who frequented these hills in former
days, causing the ewes to keb, and the kine to cast their
calves, and performing all the feats of mischief ascribed
to these evil beings. On this moor she used to hold her
revels with her sister hags; and rings were still pointed
out on which no grass nor heath ever grew, the turf being,
as it were, calcined by the scorching hoots of their dia-
bolical partners.

Once upon a time this old hag is said to have crossed
the moor, driving before her a flock of geese, which she
proposed to sell to advantage at a neighbouring fair; tor
it is well known that the Fiend, however liberal m im-
parting his powers of doing mischief, ungenerously leaves
his allies under the necessity of performing the meanest
rustic labours for subsistence. The day was far advanced,
and her chance of obtaining @ good price depended on
her being first at the market. But the geese, which had
nitherto preceded her in a pretty orderly manner, when
they came to this wide common, interspersed with marshes

C yee ns Gin Ohne
and pools of water, scattered in every direction, 60 plunge26 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

into the element in which they delighted. Incensed al
the obstinacy with which they defied all her efforts te
I" collect them, and not remembering the precise terms of
t ie the contract by which the Fiend was bound to obey her
ii) eommunds for a certain space, the sorceress exclaimed,

“ Deevil, that neither I nor they ever stir from this spot

Pe REEE a

more!” The words were hardly uttered, when, by a

metamorphosis as sudden as any in Ovid, the hag and her

refractory flock were converted into stone, the angel

whom she served, being a strict formalist, grasping eagerly

| at an opportunity ef completing the ruin of her body and
ae soul by a literal obedience to her orders. It is said, that
when she perceived and felt the transformation which was

about to take place, she exclaimed to the treacherous

Fiend, “ Ah, thou: false thief! lang

 

hast thou promised

me a grey gown, and now IJ am getting ane that will last

: c ”

for ever.” The dimensions of the pillar, and of the

(Y
©

5 | stones, were often appealed to, as a proof of the superior
if ie stature and size of old women and geese in the days of
i bitty other years, by those praisers of the past who held
' the comfortable opinion of the gradual degeneracy of
" mankind.

All particulars of this legend Hobbie called to mind as
{ he passed along the moor. He also remembered, that,

since the catastrophe had taken place, the scene of it had
been avoided, at least after night-fall, by all human
beings, as being the ordinary resort of kelpies, spunkies,
and other demons, once the companions of the witch’s
diabolical revels, and now eontinuing to rendezvous upon
the same spot, as if still in attendance on their trans-
formed mistress. Hobbie’s natural hardiheod, however,
manfully combated with these intrusive sensations of awe.

fle summoned to his side the brace of large greyhounds,THE BLACK DWARF. 27

who were the companions of his sports, and who were
wont, in his own phrase, to fear neither dog nor devil;
he looked at the priming of his piece, and, like the clown

a Te SAL toe Ls if 11 ° L + 7
in Hallowe’en, whistled up the warlike ditty of Jock

=

Faha CQi- aa -s yenera) 1 ant
of the Side, as a general causes his drums to beat to
inspirit the doubtful courage of his soldiers.

t pee m &
In this state of mind, he was very olad to hear a

friendly voice shout in his rear, and propose to him a
ee on the road. He slackened his pace, and ws3

quickly joined by a youth well known to him, a gentleman
of some fortune in that remote country, and who had
been abroad on the same errand with himself. Young
Earnscliff, ‘of that ilk,’ had lately come of age, and
succeeded to a moderate fortune, a good deal dilapidated,
trom the share his family had taken in the disturbances
of the period. They were much and gener: lly respected
in the country ; a reputation which this young g entleman
seemed likely to sustain, as he was well educated, and of
excellent dispositions.

“ Now, Farnscliff,” exclaimed Hobbie, “ IT am glad to
meet your honour ony gate, and company’s blithe ona
bare moor like this—it’s an unco bogilly bit— Where hae
ye been sporting ?”

‘Up the Carla Cleugh, Hob ybie,” answered Earnscliff,
returning his greeting. “ But will our dogs keep the

a
399

ca

neace, think you:
3 : c a iag® LY z es = eee
“ Teil a fear o: mine,” said H Tobbie, “they hae scarce

= vex 1? 11 J y aoe f) > awe ROW {FU
lec to stand on. Odd! the aeer's fled the country,

 

hink! I have been as far as
horn has Hobbie seen, excepting three red- wud raes,
never let me within shot of them, though I gaed a mile
round te get up the wind to an an’ a’. Deil o me
are muckle, only I wanted some venison to our anid

&
S
C9een ontntii sen
Se MN ERC Caen ¥ erie

28 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

gude-dame. The carline, she sits in the neuk yonder,
upbye, and cracks about the grand shooters and hunters
lang syne—QOdd, I think they hae killed a’ the deer in
the country, for my part.”

“ Well, Hobbie, I have shot a fat buck, and sent him
to Karnschff this mening 70H shall have half of him
for your grandmother.’

“ Mony thanks to Ye Mr. Patrick, ye’re kend to a’ the
country a a kind heart. It will do the auld wite’s hear
eude—mair by 2 when she kens it comes frae you—
and maist of a’, gin ye’ll come up and take your share
for I reckon ye are lonesome now in the auld tower, and
a your folk at that weary Edinburgh. J wonder what
they can find to do amang a wheen ranks o’ stane houses
wi’ slate on the tap o’ them, that might live on their ain
bonny green hills.”

“ My education and my sisters’ has Poe my mother
much in Edinburgh for several years,” said Earnscliff,
“but I promise you I propose to make up for lost time.”

“ And yell rig out the auld tower a bit,” said Hobbie,
“and live hearty and neighbourlike wi’ the auld family
friends, as the Laird o’ Earnseliff should? I can tell ye,
my mother—my grandmother I mean—but, since we lost
our ain mother, we ca’ her sometimes the tane, and some-
times the tother—but, ony gate, she conceits hersell no
that distant connected wi you.”

“ Very true, Hobbie, and I will come to the Heugh-
foot to dinner to-morrow with all my heart.”

“ Weel, that’s kindly said! We are auld neighbours,
an we were nae ’kin—and my gude-dame’s fain to see
you—she clavers about your father that was killed lang
syne.”

“ Hush, hush, Hobbie—not a word about that— it’s a
story better forgotten.”THE BLACK DWARF. 29

“J dinna ken—if it had chanced amang our folk, we
wad hae keepit it in mind mony a day till we got some
mends for’t—but ye ken your ain ways best, you lairds—
I have heard that Ellieslaw’s friend stickit your sire after
the laird himsell had mastered his sword.”

* Hie, fie, Hobbie; it was a foolish brawl, occasioned
by wine and politiss—many swords were drawn—it is
impossible to say who struck the blow.”

« At ony rate, auld Ellieslaw was aiding and abetting ;
and I am sure if ye were sae disposed as to take amends
on him, naebody could say it was wrang, for your father’s
blood is beneath his nails—and besides, there’s naebody
else left that was concerned to take amends upon, and
he’s a prelatist and a jacobite into the bargain—I can tell
ye the country folk look for something atween ye.”

“©, for shame, Hobbie!” replied the young Laird ;
“you, that profess religion, to stir your friend up to break
the law, and take vengeance at his own hand, and in such
a bogilly bit too, where we know not what beings may be
listening to us!”

“ Hush, hush!” said Hobbie, drawing nearer to his
companion, “ I wasna thinking o’ the like o’ them—But I
an guess a wee bit what keeps your hand up, Mr.
Patrick ; we a’ken it’s no lack o’ courage, but the twa
grey een of a bonny lass, Miss Isabel Vere, that keeps
vou sae sober.”

«JT assure you, Hobbie,” said his companion, rather
angrily, “ I assure you you are mistaken; and it is ex
tremely wrong of you, either to think of, or utter, such an
dea; I have no idea of permitting freedoms to be carried
so far as to connect my nam» with that of any young
yady.”

“ Why, there now—-there now ! ’ retorted Eliot ; “diaEa
ie RRR: Te oe

resem 2 seta

oe RTRCNRNRIERT AT? |

  

50 WAVERLEY NOVELS,

I not say it wasna want o’ spunk that made ye sae mim ?
—Weel, weel, I meant nae offence; but there’s just ae
thing ye may notice frae a friend. The auld Laird of
Kilieslaw has the auld riding blood far hetter at his heart
]

tnan ye hae—troth, he kens naetl hing about thae new-

fangled nections o’ peace and c

}
1

uietness—he’s a’ for the
auld-warld doings o’ lifting and laying on, and he has a
wheen stout lads at his back too, and keeps them weel up
i heart, and as fu’ o’ mischief as young colts. Where he
gets the gear to do’t, nane can say; he lives high, and
far abune his rents here; however, he pays his way—
Sae, if there’s ony outbreak in the country, he’s likely to
break out wi’ the first—and weel does he mind the auld
quarrels between ye. I am surmising he'll be for a touch
at the auld tower at Earnscliff.”

“Well, Hobbie,” answered the young gentleman, “ if
he should be so ill-advised, I shall try to make the ola
tower good against him, as it has been mete good by my
betters against his betters many a day ago.’

“ Very right—very right—that’s speaking like a man
now, said the stout yeoman; “and, if sae should be that
this be sae, if ye’ll just gar your servant jow out the great
bell in the tower, there’s s me, and my twa brothers, and
little Davie of the Stenhouse, will be wi? you, wi’ a’ the
power we can make, in the snapping of a flint.”

“ Many thanks, Hobbie,” answered Karnscliff; “ but I
hope we shall have no war of so unnatural and unchrix
tian a kind in our time.”

“ Hout, sir, hout,” replied Elliot; “it wad be but a
wee bit neighbour war, and Heaven and.earth would
make allowances for it in this uncultivated place

 

it’s just
the nature o’ the folk and the land—we canna live quiet
like Londor folk—we haena sae muckle to de. It’s im
possible.”Ske
ewes!

THE BLACK DWARF.

“ Well, Hobbie,” said the Laird, “for one who believes
so deeply as you do in supernatural appearances, I must
own you take Heaven in your own.-hand rather auda-
siously, considering where we are walking.”

“What needs I care for the Mucklestane-Moor ony
mair than ye do yoursell, Earnscliff?” said Hobbie,
somewhat offended. “'To'be sure, they do say there’s a
sort o’ worricows and lang-nebbit things about the land,
but what need I care for them? TI hae a good conscience,
and little to answer for, unless it be about a rant among
the lasses, or a splore at a fair, and that’s no muckle to
speak of. ‘Though I say it mysell, I am as quiet a lad

99

 

znd as peaceable

“ And Dick Turnbull’s head that you broke, and Willie
yf Winton whom you shot-at?” said his trav ¢lling a-
panion.

« Hout, Earnscliff, ye keep a record of «men’s mis-
doings—Dick’s head’s healed again, and were to fight
out the quarrel at Jeddart, on the Rood-day, so that’s
like a thing settled ina peaceable way ; and then I am
friends wi’ Willie again, pulr chield—it was but. twa or
three hail drops after a.’ I wad let ony body do the like
ot to me for a pint 0 brandy. But Willie’s lowland
bred, poor fallow, and soon frighted for himsell—And,
for the worricows, were we to meet ane on this very

bit

99

 

« As is not unlikely,” said young Karnscliff, “ for there
‘tands your old witch, Hobbie.”

“] say,” continued Elliot, as if indignant at this hint—
«J say, if the auld carline hersell was to get up out o’ the
grund just before us here, I would think nae an But,
gude preserve Us, Earnscliff, what cam yon be:Patek. = tihimt a

ee
Sree Nae

pa ea YE

WAVIERLEY NOVELS.

CHAPTER It

Brown Dwarf, that o’er the moorland strays
Thy name to Keeldar tell!

‘“‘ The Brown Man of the Moor, that stays
Beneath the heather-bell.”?

JOHN LEYDEN.

Tae object which alarmed the young farmer in the
middle of his valorous protestations, startled for a moment

even his less prejudiced companion. The moon, which
had arisen during their conversation, was, in the phrase
of that country, wading or struggling with clouds, and
shed only a doubtful and occasional hight. By one of
her beams, whicl

1 streamed upon the great granite column
to which tl}

ley now approached, they discovered a form,
apparently human, but of a size much less t]

1an ordinary,
which moved slowly among the large grey stones, not
like ¢

a person intending to journey onward, but with tha
slow, irregular, flitting movement of a being who hovers
around some spot of melancholy recolle

ction, uttering
also, from time to time, a sort of indistinct muttering

sound. This so much resembled his idea of the motions
of an apparition, that Hobbie EJliot, mal

<ing a dead pause,
while his hair erected itself y
I

ON its sca p, whispered to
0.8 companion, “It’s Auld Alie hersell! Shall I gie her
a shot, in the name of God?”

“ Kor Heaven’s sake, no,” said his com yanion, holding
. I ’ z
rown the weapon wl

ich he was about to raise to theTHE BLACK DWAREF. 33

nim —“ for Heaven’s sake, no; it’s some poor distracted
creature.”

“Ye’re distracted yoursell, for thinking of going so
near to her,” said Elliot, holding his companion in his
turn, as he prepared to advance. “ We'll aye hae time
to pit ower a bit prayer (an I could but mind ane) afore
she comes this length—G pd! she’s in nae hurry,” con-
tinued he, growing bolde:: from his ecenpanion’s con-
fidence, and the little notice the apparition seemed to
take of them. “She hirples like a hen on a het girdle.
I redd ye, Earnscliff,” (this he added in a gentle whisper,)
“let us take a cast about, as if to draw the wind on a
buck—the bog is no abune knee-deep, and better a saft
road as bad company.” *

Earnscliff, however, in spite of his companion’s resist-
ance and remonstrances, continued to advance on the path
they had originally pursued, and soon confronted the
object of their investigation.

The height of the figure, which appeared even to de-
crease as they approached it, seemed to be under four
feet, and its form, as far as the imperfect light afforded
them the means of discerning, was very nearly as broad
as long, or rather of a spherical shape, which could only
be occasioned by some strange personal deformity. The
young sportsman hailed this extraordinary appearance
twice, without receiving any answer, or attending to the
»inches by which his companion endeavoured to intimate
that their best course was to walk on, without giving
farther disturbance to a being of such singular and pre-
ternatural exterior. To the third r speated demand of

* The Scots use the epithet soft. in malam partem, in two cases at
east. A soft road, is a road through quagmire and bogs and soft
weather, signifies that which is very rainy-

voL. XI. 3thie in <n “
ne Maegemt : Ro

Sener

pai orertte *
+R REC!

Se eRe

4 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

“ Who are you? What do you here at this hour of night ?”
- a voice replied, whose shrill, uncouth, and dissonant
tones made Elliot step two paces back, and startled even
his companion, “ Pass on your way, and ask nought
them that ask nought at you.”

“ What do you do here so far from shelter? Are you
Lenighted on your journey? Will you follow us home.
(* Gou forbid!” ejaculated Hobbie Elliot, involuntarily,)
and I will give you a lodging ?”

“J would sooner lodge by mysell in the deepest of the
Tarrasflow,” again whispered Hobbie.

“ Pass on your way,” rejoined the figure, the harsh
tones of his voice still more exalted by passion. “I want
hot your guidance—I want not your lodging—it is five

years since my head was under a human roof, and I trust

it was for the last time.”

“ THe is mad,” said Earnscliff.

“ He has a look of auld Humphrey Ettercap, the Pe
]

ler, that perished in this very moss about five years syne,’
answered his superstitious companion ; “but Humphrey
wasna that awfu’ big in the bouk.”

“Pass on your way,” reiterated the object of their
curiosity, “ the breath of your human bodies poisons the
air around me—the sound of your human voices goes
through my ears like sharp bodkins.”
whispered Hobbie, “that the dead
should bear sic fearfu’ ill-will to the living !—his saul

93

“ Lord save us!
maun be in a puir way, I’m jealous.”

“Come, my friend,” said Earnscliff, “ you seem to suffer
under some strong affliction ; common humanity will not
nllow us to leave you here.”

‘ Common humanity!” exclaimed the being, with a
mornful laugh that sounded like a shriek, “where got yeTHE BLACK DWARF. 30

that catchword—that noose for woodcocks-—that common
disguise for man-traps—that bait which the wretched idiot
whe swallows, will soon find covers a hook with barbs ten
times sharper than those you lay for the animals which
you murder for your luxury !”

“T tell you, my friend,’ again replied Earnscliff, “ you
are incapable of judging of your own situation—you will
perish in this wilderness, and we must, in compassion,
force you along with us.”

“Tl hae neither hand nor foot in’t,” said Hobbie; “let
the ghaist take his ain way, for God’s sake !”

“ My blood be on my own head, if I perish here,’ said
the figure ; and observing Earnscliff meditating to lay
hold on him, he added, “ And your blood be upon yours,
if you touch but the skirt of my garments, to infect me
with the taint of mortality !”

The moon shone more brightly as he spoke thus, and
Earnecliff observed that he held out bis right hand armed
with some weapon of offence, which glittered in the cold
ray like the blade of a long knife, or the barrel of a pistol.
It would have been madness to persevere in his attempt
upon a being thus armed, and holding such desperate lan-
euage, especially as it was plain he would have little aid
from his companion, who had fairly left him 1o settle mat-
ters with the apparition as he could, and had proceeded
a few paces on his way homeward. Haruscliff, therefore,
turned and followed Hobbie, after looking back towards

y

the supposed maniac, who, as u raised to frenzy

NV t na
WEY Li,
d

interview, roamed wildly around the great stone, exnausy

: . : a x 19 ¢ thrilled
ing his voice in shrieks and imprecations, that thrilled
wildly along the waste heath.

‘ne in silenc
The two sportsmen moved on some time in silence,

»

until they were out of hearing of these uncouth sounds,sree

yaenet

36 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

which was not ere they had gained a considerable distance
from the pillar that gave name to the moor. Each made
his private comments on the scene they had witnessed,
until Hobbie Elliot suddenly exclaimed, “ Weel, Vl up-
haud that yon ghaist, if it be a ghaist, has baith done and
suff-rzd muckle evil in the flesh, that gars him rampauge
in that way after he is dead and gane.”

“It seems to me the very madness of misanthropy *
said Karnscliff, following his own current of thought.

“ And ye didna think it was a spiritual creature, then ?”
asked Hobbie at his companion.

“ Who, I?—No, surely.”

‘* Weel, I am partly of the mind mysell that it may be
a live thing—and yet I dinna ken, I wadna wish to see
ony thing look liker a bogle.”

“At any rate,” said Earnscliff, “I will ride over to-
morrow, and see what has become of the unhappy being.”

“ In fair daylight?” queried the yeoman ; “ then, grace
o’ God. Pse be wi’ ye. But here we are nearer to Heugh-
foot than to your house by twa mile,—hadna ye better
e’en gae hame wi’ me, and we’ll send the callant on the
powny to tell them that you are wi’ us, though I believe
there’s naebody at hame to wait for you but the servants
and the cat.”

“ Have with you then, friend Hobbie,” said the young
hunter; “and as I would not willingly have either the
servants be anxious, or puss forfeit her supper, In my
absence, Pll be obliged to you to send the boy as you
vropose.”’

“ Aweel, that zs kind, I must say. And ye’ll gae hame
to Heugh-foot? They’ll be right blithe to see you, that
will they.”

This affair settled, they walked briskly on a little farTHE BLACK DWARF. 7

‘her, when, coming to the ridge of a pretty steep hull,
Wobbie Elliot exclaimed, “Now, Earnscliff, | am aye
glad when I come to this very bit—Ye see the light be-
low, that’s in the ha’ window, where grannie, the gash

os

auld carline, is sitting birling at her wheel

 

and ye see
yon other lght that’s gaun whiddin’ back and forrit
through amang ae windows? that’s my cousin, Grace
Armstreng,—she’s tw ice as clever about the house as my
sisters, and sae they say themsells, for they're good-natured
lasses as ever trode on heather ; but they confess themsells,
and sae does grannie. that she has far maist action, and is
the best goer about the toun, now that grannie is off the
foot hersell—My brothers, ane o them’s away to walt
upon the chamberlain, and ane’s at Moss-phadraig, that’s
our led farm—he can see after the stock just as weel as I
ean do.”

You ave lac my good friend, in having so many
valuable relations.”

“ Troth am I—Grace make me thankful, ’se never
deny it.—But will ye tell me now, Earnseliff, you that
have been at college, and the high-school of Edinburgh,
and got ’ sort o’ lair where it was to be best gotten—will
ye tell me—no that it?s ony concern of mine in particular,
but I heard the priest of St. John’s, and our minister,

bargait ‘no about it at the Winter fair, and troth they

CO

=

baith spak very weel—Now, the priest says it’s unlawful
to marry ane’s cousin; but I cannot say I thought he
brought out the eae 1 authorities half sae weel as our
minister—our minister 1s thought the best divine and the
best preacher atween this and Edinburgh—Dinna ye
think he was likely to be rights ©

“ Certainly marriage, by all protestant Christians, 18

s

held to be as free as God made it by the Levitical law 3tere CB A IE

agree ,

ee

 

at a

ag RE:

+ eae

* oe eas :

ad

38 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

s0, Hobbie, there can be no bar, legal or religious, betwixt
you and Miss Armstrong.”

“ Hout awa’ wi your joking, Earnseliff,” replied hig
companion,

 

“ye are angry eneugh yoursell if ane

CO

touches you a bit, man, on the sooth side of the jest—

No that I was asking the question about Grace, for y

maun ken she’s no my cousin-germain out and out. but
a oO 3

h 2 1 « } yhta > ¢ f YW incle’s ri+4a } wv | ar a aa mar a6 yQ Q
the daughter of my uncle’s wife by ner rst marriage, so

wm

he’s nae kith nor kin to me—only a connexion like. But
now were at the Sheeling-hill—TIll fire off my gun, to
let them ken I’m coming, that’s aye my way; and if I
hae a deer I gie them twa shots, ane for the deer and
ane for mysell.”

He fired off his piece accordingly, and the number of
lights were seen to traverse the house, and even to gleam
before it. Hobbie Elliot pointed out one of these to
Karnscliff, which seemed to glide from the house towards
some of the out-houses—* That’s Grace hersell,” said
Hobbie. “She'll no meet me at the door, ’se warrant
her—but she'll be awa’, for a’ that, to see if my hounds’
supper be ready, poor beasts.”

“Love me, love my dog,” answered Earnscliff, «“ Ah,
Hobbie, you are a lucky young fellow !”

 

“his observation was uttered with something like 4
sigh, which apparently did not escape the ear of his
companion.

“ Hout, other folk may be as lucky as IT am—O how
I have seen Miss Isabel Vere’s head turn after somebody
when they passed ane another at the Carlisle races
Wha kens but things may come round in this world?”

Earnscliff muttered something like an answer; but
whether in assent to the proposition, or rebuking the
‘pplication of it, could not easily be discovered; and itTHE BLACK DWARF. 38

seems probable that the speaker himself was willmg his
3697317 : lets 1 Sei = ; f * X
meaning should rest in doubt and obscurity. ‘They had
| | g¢ round
the foot of the steep bank, or heugh, brought them in

now descended the broad loaning, which, windin

front of the thatched, but comfortable, farm-house, which
was the dwelling of Hobbie Elliot and his family.

The doorway was thronged with joyful faces; but the
been prepared on Hobbie’s lack of success in the deer-
stalking. There was a little bustle among three handsome
young women, each endeavouring to devolve upon another
the task of ushering the stranger into the apartment,

oO

while probably all were anxious to escape for the purpose
of making some little personal arrangements, before pre-
senting themselves to a young gentleman in a dishabille
vnly intended for their brother.

Hobbie, in the meanwhile, bestowing some hearty and
general abuse upon them all, (for Grace was not of the
party,) snatched the candle from the hand of one of the
rustic coquettes, as she stood playing pretty with it in
her hand, and ushered his guest into the family parlour,
or rather hall; for the place having been a house of
defence in former times, the sitting apartment was a
vaulted and paved room, damp and dismal enough com-
pared with the lodgings of the yeomanry of our days,
but which, when well lighted up with-a large sparkling
fire of turf and bog-wood, seemed to Earnscliff a most
comfortable exchange for the darkness and bleak blast of
the hill. Kindly and repeatedly was he welcomed by the
venerable old dame, the mistress of the family, who,
dressed in her coif and pinners, her close and decent
gown of Lome-spun wool, but with a large gold necklace
and ear-rings, looked, what she really was, the lady as40 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

well as the farmer’s wife, while, seated in her chair of
wicker, by the corner of the great chimney, she directed
ihe evenirg occupations of the young women, and of two
or three stout serving-wenches, who sate plying their
distaffs behind the backs of their young mistresses.

As soon as Earnscliff had been duly welcomed, and
hasty orders issued for some addition to the evening meal,
his grand-dame and sisters opened their battery upon
Hobbie Elliot for his lack of success against the deer.

“Jenny needna have kept up her kitchen-fire for a’
that Hobbie has brought hame,” said one sister.

“Troth no, lass,” said another, *‘ the gathering peat,*
if it was weel blawn, wad dress a’ our Hobbie’s venison.”

“Ay, or the low of the candle, if the wind wad let it
bide steady,” said a third; “if I were him I would bring
hame a black craw, rather than come back three times
without a buck’s horn to blaw on.”

Hobbie turned from the one to the other, regarding
them alternately with a frown on his brow, the augury
of which was confuted by the good-humoured laugh on
the lower part of his countenance. He then strove to
propitiate them, by mentioning the intended present of
his companion. |

“In my young days,” said the old lady, “a man wad
hae been ashamed to come back frae the hill without a
buck hanging on each side o’ his horse, like a cadger
earrying calves.”

“JT wish they had left some for us then, grant.ie,”
retorted Hobbie; “they've cleared the country o’ them,

+

thae auld friends o’ yours, I’m thinking.”
* The gathering peat is the piece of turf left to treasure up the

secret seeds of fire, without any generous consumption of fuel; in a
word, to keep the fire alive.a errrmmemesram cameraman aaa

     
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

THE BLACK DWARF. Al

“Ye see other folk can find game, though you eannot,
Hobbie ;” said the eldest sister, glancing a look at young
EKarnscliff.

“ Weel, weel, woman, hasna every dog his day, begging
Karnscliff’s pardon for the auld saying—Mayna I hae his
luck, and he mine, another time ?—It’s a braw thing for a
man to be out a’ day, and frighted—na, J winna say that
neither—but mistrysted wi bogles in the hame-coming,
an’ then to hae to flyte w’ a wheen women that hae been
doing naething a’ the live-lang day, but whirling a bit
stick, wi’ a thread trailing at it, or boring at a clout.”

“Frighted wi’ bogles!” exclaimed the females, one
and all,—for great was the regard then paid, and perhaps
still paid, in these glens, to all such fantasies.

 

“J did not say frighted, now—I only said mis-set wi’
the thig—And there was but ae bogle, neither—Earns-
cliff, ye saw it as weel as I did?”

And he proceeded, without very much exaggeration, to
detail, in his own way, the meeting they had with the
mysterious being at Mucklestane-Moor, concluding, he
could not conjecture what on earth it could be, “unless if
was either the Enemy himsell, or some of the auld Peghts
that held the country lang syne.”

“Auld Peght!” exclaimed the grand-dame; “na,
na—bless thee frae scathe, my bairn, it’s been nae Peght
that—it’s been the Brown Man of the moors! O weary
fa’ thae evil days !—what can evil beings be coming for
to distract a poor country, now it’s peacefully settled, and
living in love and law?—O weary on him! he ne’er
brought cude to these lands or the indwellers. My father
aften tauld me he was seen in the year o’ the bloody fight
at Marston-Moor, and then again in Montrose’s troubles,
and again before the rout 0’ Dunbar, and in my ain time,

   

=42 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

he was seen about the time o’ Bothwell-Brigg,and they
said the second-sighted Laird of Benarbuck had a com-
muning wi’ him some time afore Argyle’s landing, but
that I cannot speak to sae preceesely—it was far in the
west.——O, bairns, he’s never permitted but in an ill time,
sae mind ilka ane o’ ye to draw to Him that can help in
the day of trouble.”

Earnscliff now interposed, and expressed his firm
conviction that the person they had seen was some poor
maniac, and had no commission from the invisible world
to announce either war or evil. But his opinion found a
very cold audience, and all joined to deprecate his pur-
pose of returning to the spot the next day.

“OQ, my bonny bairn,” said the old dame, (for, in the
kindness of her heart, she extended her parental style to
all in whom she was interested) —“ You should beware
mair than other folk—there’s been a heavy breach made
in your house wi’ your father’s bloodshed, and wr law-
pleas, and losses sinsyne ;—and you are the flower of the
flock, and the lad that will build up the auld bigging
again (if it be His will) to be an honour to the country,
and a safeguard to those that dwell in it—you, before
others, are called upon to put yoursell in no rash adven-
tures—for yours was aye ower venturesome a race, and
muckle harm they have-got by.it.”

“ But I am sure, my good friend, you would not have
me be afraid of going to an open moor in broad day-
light ?”

“TJ dinna ken,” said the good old dame ; “I wad never

bid son or friend o’ mine haud their hand back in a gude

 

rause, whether it were a friend’s or their ain—that should
ve by nae bidding of mine, or of ony body that’s come of

gentle kindred—But it winna gang out of a grey headTHE BLACK DWARE. 43

like mine, that, to gang to seek for evil that’s no fashing
wi’ you, is clean against law and Scripture.”

KEarnscliff resigned an argument which he saw no
prospect of maintaining with good effect, and the entrance
of supper broke off the conversation. Miss Grace had
by this time made her appearance, and Hobbie, not with-
out a conscious glance at Harnscliff, placed himself by her
side. Mirth and lively conversation, in which the old
lady of the house took the good-humoured share which
so well becomes old age, restored to the cheeks of the
damsels the roses which their brother’s tale of the appari-
tion had chased away, and they danced and sung for an
hour after supper as if there were no such things as
goblins in the world.ke

ebeesreness. xsticignly

a me Te »
RES MRRRRRE 2 R RNORS Rcem co

re mts 12

WAVERLEY NOVELS.

CHAPTER IV.

. I am a misanthropos, and hate mankind;
For thy part, I do wish thou wert a dog,
That I might love thee something.

TrMoN OF ATHENS.

On the following morning, after breakfast, Earnscliff
took leave of his hospitable friends, promising to return
in time to partake of the venison, which had arrived from
his house. Hobbie, who apparently took leave, of him at
the door of his habitation, slunk out, however, and joined
him at the top of the hill.

“Yell be gaun yonder, Mr. Patrick; feind o’me will
mistryst you for a’ my mother says. I thought it best to
slip out quietly though, in case she should mislippen
something of what we’re gaun to do—we maunna vex
her at nae rate—it was amaist the last word my father
said to me on his deathbed.”

“By no means, Hobbie,” said Earnscliff; “she well
merits all your attention.”

“‘Troth, for that matter, she would be as sair vexed
smaist for you as for me. But d’ye really think there’s
3ae presumption in venturing back yonder?—We hae
nae special commission, ye ken.”

“If I thought as you do, Hobbie,’ said the young
genfleman, “TI would not perhaps inquire farther into
this business but as I am of opinion that preternatural

visitations are either ceased altogether, or become veryTHE BLACK DWARF. 45

rare in our days, [ am unwilling to leave a matter unin-
vestigated which may concern the life of a poor distracted
being.”

“ Aweel, aweel, if ye really think that,’ answered
Hobbie, doubtfully—* And it’s for certain the very fairies
——I mean the very good neighbours themsells (for they
say folk suldna ca’ them fairies) that used to be seen on
every green knowe at e’en, are no half sae often visible
in our days. I canna depone to having ever seen ane
mysell, but I ance heard: ane whistle ahint me in the
moss, as like a whaup* as ae’thing could be like anither.
And mony ane my father saw when he used to come
hame frae the fairs at e’en, wi’ a drap drink in his head,
honest man.”

Earnscliff was somewhat entertained with the gradual
declension of superstition from one generation to another
which was inferred in this last observation; and they
continued to reason on such subjects, until they came in
sight of the upright stone which gave name to the moor.

“ As I shall answer,’ says Hobbie, “ yonder’s the
ereature creeping about yet !___But it’s day-light, and you
have your gun, and I brought out my bit whinger—I
think we'may venture on him.”

“ By all manner of means,” said Earnscliff; “but, ia
the name of wonder, what can he be doing there?”

“ Bigoine a dry-stane dyke, I think, wi the grey geese,
as they ca’ thae great loose stanes—Odd, that passes 9’
thing I e’er heard tell of !”

As they approached nearer, Earnscliff could not help
agreeing with his companion. ‘The figure they had seen
the night before seemed slowly and toilsomely labouring
to pile the large stones one upon another, as if to form

* Curlew.*

ae toe. oa

 

PN + ene art, Pe Ea.
amine aes

46 WAVERLEY NOVELS

a small enclosure. Materials lay around him in great
plenty, but the labour of carrying on the work was
immense, from the size of most of the stones; and it
seemed astonishing that he should have succeeded in
moving several which he had already arranged for the
foundation of his edifice. He was struggling to move a
fragment of great size when the two young men came up,
and was so intent upon executing his purpose, that he
did not perceive them till they were close upon him. In
siraining and heaving at the stone, in order to place it
according to his wish, he displayed a degree of strength
which seemed utterly inconsistent with his size and
apparent deformity. Indeed, to judge from the difficulties
he had already surmounted, he must have been of Her-
culean powers ; for some of the stones he had succeeded
in raising apparently required two men’s strength to have
moved them. Hobbie’s suspicions began to revive, on
seeing the preternatural strength he exerted.

“JT am amaist persuaded it’s the ghaist of a stane-

 

mason—see siccan band-stanes as he’s laid !—An it be a

man, after a’, | wonder what he wad take by the rood to
build a march-dyke. There’s ane sair wanted between
Cringlehope and the Shaws.—Honest man,” (raising his
voice,) “ye make good firm wark there.”

The being whom he addressed raised his eyes with a
ghastly stare, and, getting up from his stooping posture,
stood before them in all his native and hideous deformity.
His head was of uncommon size, covered with a fell of
shaggy hair, partly grizzled aa age; his eyebrows,
shaggy and prominent, overhung a pair of small, dark,
piercing eyes, set far back in their socke sts, that rolled
with a portentous wildness, indicative of a partial insanity.
Che rest of his features were of the coarse, rongh-hewnTHE- BLACK DWARF. 47

stamp, with which a painter would equip a giant in
romance; to which was added the wild, irregular, and
peculiar expression, so often seen in the countenances of
those whose persons are deformed. His body, thick and
square, like that of aman of middle size, was mounted
upon two large feet; but nature seemed to have forgotten
the legs and the thighs, or they were so very short as to
be hidden by the dress which he wore. His arms were
long and brawny, furnished with two muscular hands,
and, where uncovered in the eagerness of his labour.
were shagged with coarse black hair. It seemed as if
nature had originally intended the separate parts of his
body to be the members of a giant, but had afterwards
capriciously assigned them to the person of a dwarf, se
ill did the length of his arms and the iron strength of his
frame correspond with the shortness of his stature. His
clothing was a sort of coarse brown tunic, like a monk’s
frock, girt round him with a belt of seal-skin. Qn his
head he had a cap made of badger’s skin, or some other
rough fur, which added considerably to the grotesque
effect of his whole appearance, and overshadowed tea-
tures, whose habitual expression seemed that of sullen
malignant misanthropy.
This remarkable Dwarf gazed on the two youths in
silence, with a dogged and irritated look, until Karns-
cliff, willing to soothe him into better temper, ob
served, “ You are hard tasked, my friend; allow us ta
assist you.”

Elliot and he accordingly placed the stone, by their
joini efforts, upon the rising wall. The Dwarf watched

1 - far s ocatihe lyw
them with the eye of a taskmaster, and t tified, by

peevish gestures, his impatience at the time w

° ¥ £ 1 eq 1 ¢ yt +} rT
took in adjusting the stone. He pomted to another*

i

 

Rieter cane ont ‘
1 eT Ma

WAVERLEY NOVELS.

 

they raised it also—to a third, to a fourth—they con-
tinued to humour him, though with some trouble, for he
assigned them, as if intentionally, the heaviest fragments
which lay near.

“ And now, friend,” said Elliot, as the unreasonable
Dwarf indicated another stone larger than any they had
moved, “ Earnscliff may do as he likes; but be ye man
or he ye waur, deil be in my fingers if I break my back
wi’ heaving thae stanes ony langer~like a barrow-ma%,
without getting sae muckle as thanks for my pains.”

“Thanks!” exclaimed the Dwar, with a motion ex-

 

pressive of the utmost contempt— There—take them,

and fatten upon them! ‘Take them, and may they

 

thrive with you as they have done with me—as they have
done with .every mortal worm that ever heard the word
spoken by his fellow reptile! ~Hence—either labour or
begone !”

“This is a fine reward we have, Earnscliff, for building
a tabernacle for the devil, and prejudicing our ain souls
into the bargain, for what we ken.”

3)

“Our presence,” answered Earnscliff, “seems only to
irritate his frenzy; we had better leave him, and send
some one to provide him with food and necessaries.”

They did so. The servant despatched for this purpose
found the Dwarf still labouring at his wall, but could not
extract a word from him. ‘The lad, infected with the
superstitions of the country, did not long persist in an
attempt to intrude questions or advice on so singular a
ficure, but having placed the articles which he had brought
for his use on a stone at some distance, he left them at
the misanthrope’s disposal.

The Dwarf proceeded in his labours, day after day,

with an assiduity so incredible as to appear almost super:THE BLACK DWARBR. 49

natural. In one day he often seemed to have done the
work of two men, and his building soon assumed the
appearance of the walls of a hut, which, though very
sinall, and constructed only of stones and turf, without
any mortar, exhibited, from the unusual size of the stones
employed, an appearance of solidity very uncommon for
a cottage of such narrow dimensions and rude construc-
tion. Karnscliff, attentive to his motions, no sooner per-
ceived to what they tended, than he sent down a number
of spars of wood suitable for forming the roof, which he
caused to be left in the neighbourhood of the spot, re-
solving next day to send workmen to put them up. But
his purpose was anticipated, for in the evening, during
the night, and early im the morning, the Dwarf had
laboured so hard, and with such ingenuity, that he had
nearly completed the adjustment of the rafters. His next
labour was to cut rushes and thatch his dwelling, a task
which he performed with singular dexterity.

As he seemed averse to receive any aid beyond the
occasional assistance of a passenger, materials suitable to
his purpose, and tools, were supplied to him, in the use
of which he proved to be skilful. He constructed the
door and window of his cot, he adjusted a rude bedstead,
and a few shelves, and appeared to become somewhat
soothed in his temper as his accommodations increased.

His next task was to form a strong enclosure, and to
cultivate the land within it to the best of his power;

: ° 3 7 a i - mins ac
until, by transporting mould, and working up what was
|

( om}

upon the spot, he formed a patch of earden-ground.

must be naturally supposed, that, as above hinted, this

sglitary being received assistance oc rasionally from such

travellers as crossed the moor by chance, as well as from

several who went from curiosity to visit his works. It
VOL. xk: 450 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

was, indeed, impossible to see a human creature, 30 unfit-
ted, at first sight, for hard labour, toiling with sweh unre-
mitting assiduity, without stopping a few minutes to aid
him in his task; and, as no one of his occasional assist-
ants was acquainted with the degree of help which the
Dvarf had received from others, the celerity of his pro-
gress lost none of its marvels in their eyes. The streng
aud coripact appearance of the cottage, formed in so
very short a space, and by such a being, and the superior
skill which he displayed in mechanics, and in other arts,
gave suspicion to the surrounding neighbours. They
insisted, that, if he was not a phantom,—anu opinion
which was now abandoned, since he plainly appeared a
being of blood and bone with themselves,—yet he must
be in close league with the invisible world, and have
chosen that sequestered spot to carry on his communica-
tion with them undisturbed. ‘They insisted, though in a
different sense from the philosopher’s application of the
phrase, that he was never less alone than when alone ;
and that from the heights which commanded the moor at
a distance, passengers often discovered a person at work
along with this dweller of the desert, who regularly dis-
appeared as soon as they approached closer to the cottage.
Such a figure was also occasionally seen sitting beside hina
at the door, walking with him in the moor, or assisting
him in fetching water from his fountain. LEarnsceliff ex-
plained this phenomenon by supposing it to be the Dwart’s
shadow.

“Deil a shadow has he,” replied Hobbie Elhot, whe
was a strenuous defender of the general oplion ; :
ower far in wil the Auld Ane to have a shadow. Be-
sides,” he argued, more logically, “ wha ever heard of a

shadow that cam between a body and the sun? and thisTHE BLACK DWAREF. 51

thing, be if what it will, is thinner and taller than the
body himsell, and has been seen to come between him and
the sun mair than ance or twice either.”

These suspicions, which, in any other part of the coun-
try, might have been attended with investigations a little
inconvenient to the supposed wizard, were here only pro-
ductive of respect and awe. The recluse being seemed
somewhat gratified by the marks of timid veneration
with which an occasional passenger approached his dwell-
ing, the look of startled surprise with which he surveyed
his person and his premises, and the hurried step with
which he pressed his retreat as he passed the awful spot.
The boldest only stopped to gratify their curiosity by a
hasty glauce at the walls of his cottage and garden, and
to apologize for it by a courteous salutation, which the
inmate sometimes deigned to return by a word or a nod.
Earnscliff often passed that way, and seldom without in-
quiring after the solitary inmate, who seemed now to have
arranged his establishment for life:

It was impossible to engage him im any conversation
on his own personal affairs ; nor was he communicative
or accessibie in talking on any other subject whatever,
although he seemed to have considerably relented in the
extreme ferocity of his misanthropy, or rather to be less
frequently visited with the fits of derangement of which
this was a symptom. No argument could prevail upc:
him to accept anything beyond the simplest necessaries,
although much more was offered by Earnscliff out of
charity, and by his more superstitious neighbours from
other motives. The benefits of these last he repaid by

\

advice, when consulted (as at length he slowly was) on

7

their diseases, or those of their cattle. He often fur-

nished them with medicines also, and seemed possessea,52 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

not only of such as were the produce of the country, but
of foreign drugs. He gave these persons to.understand,
that his name was Elshender the Recluse ; but his popu-
lar epithet soon came to be Canny LElshie, or the Wise
Wight of Mucklestane-Moor. Some extended their que-
ries beyord their bodily complaints, and requested advice
upon other matters, which he delivered with an oracular
shrewdness that greatly confirmed the opinion of his pos-
sessing preternatural skill. ‘The querists usually left some’
offering upon a stone, at a distance from his dwelling; if
it was money, or any article which it did not suit him to
accept, he either threw it away, or suffered it to remain
where it was without making use of it. On all occasions
his manners were rude and unsocial; and his words, in
number, just sufficient to express his meaning as briefly
as possible, and he shunned all communication that went
a syllable beyond the matter in hand. When winter had
passed away, and his garden began to afford him herbs
and vegetables, he confined himself almost entirely to
those articles of food. He accepted, notwithstanding, a
pair of she-goats from Earnscliff, which fed on the moor,
and supplied him with milk.

When Earnscliff found his gift had been received, he
soon afterwards paid the hermit a visit. The old man
was seated on a broad flat stone near his garden door,
vhich was the seat of science he usually oceupied when

\y

disposed to receive his patients or clients. The inside of
his hut, and that of his garden, he kept as sacred from
uman intrusion as the natives of Otaheite do their Mo-
rai;—apparently he would have deemed it polluted by
the step of any human being. When he shut himself up
in his habitation, no entreaty could prevail upon him te
make himself visible, or to give audience to any one

whomsoever.THE BLACK DWARF. 5G

Earnscliff had been fishing in a small river at some
listance. He had his rod in his hand, and his basket,
filled with trout, at his shoulder. He sate down upon a
stone nearly opposite to the Dwarf, who, familiarized
with his. presence, took no farther notice of him than by
elevating his huge mis-shapen head for the purpose of
staring ai him, and then again sinking it upon his bosom,
as if in profound meditation. Earnscliff looked around
him, and observed that the hermit had increased his
accommodations by the construction of a shed for the
reception of his goats.

“You labour hard, Elshie,” he said, willing to lead this
singular being into conversation.

“ Labour,” re-echoed the Dwarf, “is the mildest evil
of a lot so miserable as that of mankind; better to labour
like me, than sport like you.”

“J cannot defend the humanity of our ordinary rural

9)

 

sports, Elshie, and yet

~ And yet,” interrupted the Dwarf, “they are better
than your ordinary business ; better to exercise idle and
wanton cruelty on mute fishes than on your fellow-
sreatures. Yet why should I say so? Why should not
the whole human herd butt, gore, and gorge upon each
other, till all are extirpated but one huge and over-ted
Behemoth, and he, when he had throttled and gnawed

the bones of all his fellows—he, when his prey failed
him. to be roaring whole days for lack of food, and, finally,
‘c die, inch by inch, of famine—it were a consummation
worthy of the race!”

“Your deeds are better, Elshie, than your words,”
answered Earnscliff; “you labour to preserve the race
yhom your misanthropy slanders< 7: ”

«J do: but why ?—Hearken. You. are one on whom

2)eer

- esac
rE

 

54 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

I look with the least loathing, and I care not, if, con-
trary to my wont, I waste a few words in compassion te
your infatuated blindness. If I cannot send disease into
families, and murrain among the herds, can I attain the
same end so well as by prolonging the lives of those whe
ean serve the purpose of destruction as effectually r-—If
Alice of Bower had died in winter, would young Ruthwin
have been slain for her love the last spring ?—Who
thought of peuning their cattle beneath the tower when
the Red Reiver of Westburnflat was deemed to be on
his death-bed ?—My draughts, my sk“. recovered him.
And, now, who dare leave his herd upon the lea without
a watch, or go to bed without unchaining the sleuth-
hound ? ”

“J own,” answered Earnscliff, “ you did little good to
society by the last of these cures. But, to balance the
evil, there is my friend Hobbie, honest Hobbie of the
Heugh-foot, your skill relieved him last winter in a fever
that might have cost him his life.”

“Thus think the children of clay in their ignorance,”
said the Dwarf, smiling maliciously, “and thus they speak
in their folly. Have you marked the young cub of a
wild cat that has been domesticated, how sportive, how

 

playful, how gentle,—but trust him with your game, your
lambs, your poultry, his inbred ferocity breaks forth; he
gripes, tears, ravages, and devours.”

“Such is the animal’s instinct,” answered Earnscliff;
* but what has that to do with Hobbie ?”

“It is his emblem—it is his picture,” retorted the
Recluse. “He is at present tame, quiet, and domesti-
eated, for lack of opportunity to exercise his inborn pro-
pensities; but let the trumpet of war sound—let the
young bloodhound snuff blood, he will be as ferocious asTHE BLACK DWARF. D5

the «wildest of his Border ancestors that ever fired a help.
less peasant’s abode. Can you deny, that even at present
he often urges you to take bloody revenge for an injury
received wher you were a boy ’—Harnscliff started ; the
Recluse appeared not to observe his surprise, and pro-
ceeded—* The trumpet will blow, the young bloodhound
will lap blood, and I will laugh and say, For this I have

99

preserved thee!” He paused, and continued,— Such
are my cures ;—their object, their purpose, perpetuating
the mass of misery, and playing even in this desert my
part in the general tragedy. Were you on your ree
I might in compassion, send you a cup of poison.”

“Tam much obliged to you, Elshie, and certainly shall
not fail to consult you, with so comfortable a hope from
your assistance.”

“Do not flatter yourself too far,” replied the Hermit,
“with the hope that I will positively yield to the frailty
of pity. Why should I snatch a dupe, so well fitted ta
endure the miseries of life as you are, from the wretch-
edness which his own visions, and the villany of the
world, are preparing for him: ? Why should I play the
compassionate Indian, and, knocking out the brains of th
captive with my tomahawk, at once spoil the three days’
amusement of my kindre .d tribe, at the very moment
when the brands were lighted, the pincers heated, the
aldrons boiling, the knives sh ampeney. to tear, scorch,
seethe, and scarify the intended victim ?’

1e 2

“ A dreadful picture you present to me of life, Elshie ;

ake

but I am not daunted by it,” returned Earnscliff. ‘“ We
are sent here, in one sense, to bear and to suffer; but, in
another, to do and to enjoy. ‘he active day has its
evening of repose; even patient sufferance has its alle-

viations, where there is a consolatory sense of duty

lischarged.”2+ ERR I «0 entanen Pa re S. ~ "
> CoRR AT MRM NAR! Teter

> States

 

26 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

“YT spurn at the slavish and bestial doctrine,” said the
Dwarf, his eyes kindling with insane fury,—“I spurn at
it, as worthy only of the beasts that perish; but I will
waste no more words with you.”

He rose hastily ; but, ere he withdrew into the hut, he
added, with great vehemence, “Yet, lest you still think
my apparent benefits to mankind flow from the- stupid
and servile source, called love of our fellow-creatures,
know, that were there a man who had annihilated my
soul’s dearest hope—who had torn my heart to mammocks,
and seared my brain till it glowed like a volcano, and
were that man’s fortune and life in my power as com-
pletely as this frail potsherd,” (he snatched up an earthen
cup which stood beside him,) “I would not dash him into
atoms thus ”’—(he flung the vessel with fury against the
wall,)—“ No!” (he spoke more composedly, but with the
utmost bitterness,) “I would pamper him with wealth
and power to inflame his evil passions, and to fulfil his
evil designs; he should lack no means of vice and
villany ; he should be the centre of a whirlpool that itself
should know neither rest nor peace, but. boil with unceas-
ing fury, while it wrecked every goodly ship that ap-
proached its limits! he should be an earthquake capable
of shaking the very land in which he dwelt, and rendering

as J

all its inhabitants friendless, outcast, and miserable

 

199

am !

The wretched being rushed into his hut as he uttered
these last words, shutting the door with furious violence,
and rapidly drawing two bolts, one after another, as if to
exclude the intrusion of any one of that hated race, who
had thus lashed his soul to frenzy. Earnscliff left the
moor with mingled sensations of pity and horror, ponders

ing what strange and melancholy cause could have re-THE BLACK DWARF.

.

Cv

tuced to so miserable a state of mind, a man whose
language argued him to be of rank and-education much
superior to the vulgar. He was also surprised to see how
much particular information a person who had lived in
that country so short a time, and in so recluse a manner,
had been able to collect respecting the dispositions and
private affairs of the inhabitants.

“Tt is no wonder,” he said to himself, “that with such
extent of information, such a mode of life, so uncouth a
figure, and sentiments so virulently misanthropic, this
unfortunate should be regarded by the vulgar as in league
with the Enemy of Mankind.”ae

cempmter canst:
OTP RAR T°

WAVERI.EY NOVELS.

CHAPTER V.

The bleakest rock upon the loneliest heath

Feels, in its barrenness. some touch of spring;

And, in the April dew, or beam of May,

Its moss and lichen freshen and revive;

And thus the heart, most seared to human pleasure,
Melts at the tear, joys in the smile,-of woman.

BEAUMONT.

As the season advanced, the weather became more
venial, and the Recluse was more frequently found occu-
pying the broad flat stone in the front of his mansion.
As he sate there one day, about the hour of noon, a party
of gentlemen and ladies, well mounted, and numerously
attended, swept across the heath, at some distance from
his dwelling. Dogs, hawks, and led-horses, swelled the
retinue, and the- air resounded at intervals with the cheer
of the hunters, and the sound of horns blown by the
attendants. The Recluse was about to retire into his
mansion at the sight of a train so joyous, when three
young ladies, with their attendants, who had made a
circuit, and detached themselves from their party, ix
order to gratify their curiosity by a sight of the Wise
Wight of Mucklestane-Moor, came suddenly up, ere -he
could effect his purpose. ‘The first shrieked, and put her
hands before her eyes, at sight of an object so unusually
fleformed. ‘The second with a hysterical giggle, which

the intended should disguise her terrors, asked theTHE BLACK DWARP. a§

CL

Recluse, whether he could tell their fortune. The third,
who was best mounted, best dressed, and incomparably
the best-looking of the three, advanced, as if to cover the
incivility of her companions.

4

Wie havea lac 4+heo IE aes a as q . 4
Ve have lost the right path that leads through these

Oo
morasses and our party have oone forward wit! t adi?
IVUiaoses, alu OU Val y LiAVe Fone 1rOrwara Witnout US,

4 ov cq
ee | 1 } X ws > 1 2
yqirl| tha rwanuina lanw ee Wa; ey att + . i - £
sala tne y oune lady. OEF ING you, father, at the door OF

2 OO wv

rea + | a See ee fa i Shee ee cere 199
your house, we nave turned this way to

 

Claeys onan ted Wye he ce
‘¢ Hush ! interrupted the Dwarf: “so young, and
; 5 a
pas Jd 7 CI > +] 2 V7 z a¥ TO ~ x . ~
piready so artiul: You came—you know. you came, to

exult in the consciousness of your own youth, wealth, and
beauty, by contrasting them with age, poverty, and de-
formity. It is a fit employment for the daughter of
your father; but oh, how unlike the child of your
mother !”

“Did you, then, know my parents, and do you know
me?”

“Yes; this is the first time you have crossed my wak-
ing eyes, but I have seen you in my dreams.”

“ Your dreams !”

“ Ay, Isabel Vere. What hast thou, or thine, to do
with my waking thoughts ?”

“ Your waking thoughts, sir,” said the second of Miss
Vere’s companions, with a sort of mock gravity, “are
fixed doubtless, upon wisdom; folly can only intrude on
your sleeping moments.”

“Over thine,” retorted the Dwarf, more splenetically
than became a philosopher or hermit, “ folly exercises an
unlimited empire, asleep or awake.”

“Lord bless us!” said the lady, “he’s a prophet sure
snouch.”

“ As surely,” continued the Recluse, “as thou art a

 

S ‘
woman. A woman!—lI should have said a lady—a ime2 tenant * iain
Seer OIE: ee priywed tl = apne

Sas aati

setae

oes,

 

a P< i

men

Spent 5 ©

   

60 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

a simple

      

lady. You asked me to tell your fortune
one ; an Rak chase through life after follies not wor th
eatching, and, when caught, successively thrown away—a
chase, pursued from the days of tottering infancy to those
of old age upon his crutches. Toys and merry-makings
wn childhood—love and its absurdities in youth—spadille

and ee in age, shall succeed each other as objects of

pursuit—flowers and butterflies in spring—butterfiies and

thistle-down 1n Suen ry eneuen leaves in autumn and

        

winter—all pursued, all caught, all flung aside.
ppart; your fortune is said.” |

All caught, however,” retorted the laughing fair
one, who was a cousin of Miss Vere’s; “ that’s some-
thing, Nancy,” she continued, turning to the timid damsel
who had first approached the Dwarf; “ will you ask your
fortune?”

“Not for worlds,” said she, drawing back; “I have
heard enough of yours.”

“ Well, then,” said Miss Ilderton, offering money to the
Dwarf, “I'll pay for mine, as if it were spoken by an
oracle to a princess.”

“Truth,” said the soothsayer, “can neither be bought
nor sold;” and he pushed back her proffered offering
with morose disdain.

“Well, then,’ said the lady, “Pll keep my money,
Mr. Elshender, to assist me in the chase I am_to
pursue.”

“ You will need it,” replied the cynie ; “ without it, fey
pursue successfully, and fewer are themselves pursued.
Stop!” he said to Miss Vere, as her companions moved
off, “ with you I have more to say. You have what ycur
sompanions would wish to have, or be thought to have—

seauty, wealth, station, accomplishments.”THE BLACK DWARF. 6i

“ Forgive my following my companions, father; I am
proof both to flattery and fortune-telling.”
és oN f 3599 ‘ e 5 e °

Stay,” continued the Dwarf, with his hand on her

horse’s rein, “I am no common soothsayer, and I am ne

datterer. All the advantages I have detailed, all and
Ag ANH t tham awe +hair LAPrPAQ] Aina writa Hoe ae
each of them have their corresponding evils—unsuccess-

_ crossed affections, the gloom of a convent, or an
odious alliance. I... who wish ill to all mankind, cannot
wish more evil to you, so much is your course of life
crossed by it.”

“ And if it be, father, let me enjoy the readiest solace
of adversity, while prosperity is im my power. You are
old; you are poor; your habitation is far from human
aid, were you ill, or in want; your situation, In many
respects, exposes you to the suspicions of the vulgar,
which are too apt to break out into actions of brutality.
Let me think I have mended the lot of one human being!
Accept of such assistance as | have power to offer ; do
this for my sake, if not tor your own, that when these
evils arise, which you prophesy perhaps too truly, I may
not have to reflect that the hours of my happier time
have been passed altogether in vain.”

The old man answered with a broken voice, and almost
without addressing himself to the young lady,—

“Yes, ’tis thus thou shouldst think—’tis thus thou
shouldst speak, if ever human speech and thought kept
touch with each other! ‘They do not--they do not-—
Alas! they cannot. And yet—wait here an instant—stir
not till my return.” He went to his little garden, and
returned with a half-blown rose. “Thou hast made me
shed a tear, the first which has wet my eyelids for many
a year ; for that eood deed receive this token of gratitude.
Tt is but a common rose; preserve it, however, and do notee ee

SER rion

Seay eae

52 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

part with it. Come to me in your hour of adversity.
Show me that rose, or but one leaf of it, were it withered
as my heart is—if it should be in my fiercest and wildest
movements of rage against a hateful world, still it will
recall gentler thoughts to my bosom, and perhaps afford
happier prospects to thine. But no message,” he ex-

]
i

claimed, rising into his usual mood of misanthropy,—

; wee : ] ] g aA “
“no go-between! Come thyself; and the heart and the

t
doors that are shut against every other earthly being, shall
open to thee and to thy sorrows. And now pass on.”

He let go the bridle-rein, and the young lady rode on,
after expressing her thanks to this singular being, as well
as her surprise at the extraordinary nature of his address
would permit, often turning back to look ‘at the Dwarf,
who still remained at the door of his habitation, and
watched her progress over the moor towards her father’s
castle of Ellieslaw, until the brow of the hill hid the party
from his sight.

The ladies, meantime, jested with Miss Vere on the
Strange interview they had just had with the far-famed
Wizard of the Moor. “Isabella has all the luck at home
and abroad! Her hawk strikes down the black-eock ;
her eyes wound the gallant; no chance for her poor com-
panions and kinswomen ; even the conjuror cannot escape
the force of her charms. You should, in compassion,
Pease to be such an engrosser, my dear Isabel, or at least
set up shop, and sell off all the goods you do not mean te
keep for your own use.”

“You shall have them all.” replied Miss Vere, “and
the conjuror to boot, ata very easy rate.”

“No! Nancy shall have the conjuror,” said Miss Ilder-
ton, “to supply deficiencies ; she’s not quite a witch her-
self, you know.”THE BI:ACK DWARF. 63

“Tord, sister,” answered the younger Miss Ilderton,
“ what could I do with so frightful a monster! I kept my
eyes shut, after once glancing at him; and, I protest, I
thought I saw him still, though I winked as close as ever
1 could.”

“ That’s a pity,” said her sister: © ever while you live,
Nancy, choose an admirer whose <aults can be hid by
winking at them. Well, then, I must take him myself, I
suppose, and put him into mamma’s Japan cabinet, m
order to show that Scotland can produce a specimen of
mortal clay moulded into a form ten thousand times uglier
than the imaginations of Canton and Pekin, fertile as
they are in monsters, have immortalized in porcelain.”

“ There is something,” said Miss Vere, “so melancholy
‘n the situation of this poor man, that I cannot enter into
your mirth, Lucy, so readily as usual. If he has no
resources, how is he to exist in this waste country, living,
as he does, at such a distance from mankind? and if he
has the means of securing occasional assistance, will not
the very suspicion. that he is possessed of them, expose
him to plunder and assassination by some of our unsettled
neighbours ? ”

« But you forget that they say he is a warlock,” said
Nancy Ilderton.

« And, if his magic diabolical should fail him,’
her sister, “I would have him trust to his magic natural,

and thrust his enormous head, and most preternatural

?

rejomed

visage, out a: his door or window, full in view of the
The boldest robber that ever rode would
Well, I wish I had

assailants.
hardly bide a second elance of him. : ;
the use of that Gorgon head of his for only one halt hour.
« For what purpose, Lucy?” said Miss Vere. :
« QO! I would frighten out of the castle that dark, stiff,54 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

and stately Sir Frederick Langley, that is so great a
favourite with your father, and so little a favourite of
yours. I protest I shall be obliged to the Wizard as long
as I live, if it were only for the half hour’s relief from
that man’s company which we have gained by deviating
from the party to visit Elshie.”

“ What would you say then,” said Miss Vere, in a low
tone, so as not to be heard by the younger sister, who
rode before them, the narrow path not admitting of their
moving all three abreast—“ What would you say, my
dearest Lucy, if it were proposed to you to endure his
company for life ?.”

“Say? I would say, Vo, no, no, three times, each
‘ouder than another, till they should hear me at Carlisle.”

“And Sir Frederick would say then, nineteen nay-says
are half a grant.”

“ That,” replied Miss Lucy, “depends entirely on the
manner in.which the nay-says are said. Mine should
have not one grain of concession in them, I promise
you.”

“ But if your father,” said Miss Vere, “ were to say,—
Thus do, or a

 

“T would stand to the consequences of his or, were he
the most cruel father that ever was recorded in romance,
to fill up the alternative.”

“And what if he threatened you with a Catholic aunt,
an abbess, and a cloister ? ”

“ Then,” said Miss liderton, “I would threaten him with
f protestant son-in-law, and be ol

oO

disobey him for conscience’ sake.
‘s out of hearing, let me re

ad of an opportunity to
And now that Nancy

ally say, I think you would be
excusable before God and man for

resisting this prepos-
ferous match by every me

ans in your power. A proud,THE BLACK DWARF.

dark, ambitious man; a caballer against the state; infa
mous for his avarice and severity; a bad son, a bad
brother, unkind and ungenerous to all his relatives—
Vsabel, I would die rather than have him.”

“Don’t let my father hear you give me such advice,”
said Miss Vere, “or adieu, my dear Lucy, to Ellieslaw
Castle.”

“And adieu to Ellieslaw Castle, with all my heart,”
said her friend, “if I once saw you fairly out of it, and
settled under some kinder protector than he whom nature
has given you. O,if my poor father had been in his
former health, how gladly would he have received and
sheltered you, till this ridiculous and cruel persecution
were blown over!”

“ Would to God it had been so, my dear Lucy!” an-
swered Isabella; “but I fear, that, in your father’s weak
state of health,-he would be altogether unable to protect
me against the means which would be immediately used
for reclaiming the poor fugitive.”

“T fear so, indeed,” replied Miss Ilderton ; “ but we
will consider and devise something. Now that your
father and his guests seem so deeply engaged in some
mysterious plot, to judge from the passing and returning
of messages, from the strange faces which appear and
disappear without. being announced by their names, from
the collecting and cleaning of arms, and the. anxious
eloom and bustle which seem to agitate every male in
the castle, it may not be impossible for us (always in case
matters be driven to extremity) to shape out some little
supplemental conspiracy of our own. I hope the gentle-
men have not kept all the policy to themselves ; and
there is one associate that I would gladly admit to our

gounsel.”

VOL. XI.56 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

“Not Nancy ?”'

“O, no!” said Miss Iderton; “ Nancy, though an ex-
cellent good girl, and fondly attached to you, would make
a dull conspirator—as dull as Renault and all the other
subordinate plotters in Venice Preserved. No; this is a
Jaflier, or Pierre, if you like the character better; and
yet, though I know I shall please you, Iam afraid to
mention his name to you, lest I vex you at the same
time, Can you not guess? Something about an eagle
and a rock

 

it does not begin with eagle in English, but
something very like it in Scotch.”

“You cannot mean young. Karnscliff, Lucy?” said
Miss Vere, blushing deeply.

“ And whom else should I mean?” said Lucy. “ Jaf-
fiers and Pierres are very scarce in this country, I take
it, though one could find Renaults and Bedamars enow.”

“How can you talk so wildly, Lucy? Your plays
and romances have positively turned your brain. You
know, that, independent of my father’s consent, without
which I never will marry any one, and which, in the case
you point at, would never be granted; independent, too,
of our knowing nothing of young Earnscliff’s inclinations,
but by your own wild conjectures and fancies—besides
all this, there is the fatal brawl! ”

“When his father was killed?” said Lucy. “But
Liat was very long ago; and I hope we have outlived
the time of bloody feud, when a quarrel was carried down
between two families from father to son, like a Spanish
game at chess, and a murder or two committed in every
generation, just to keep the matter from going to sleep.
We do with our quarrels now-a-days as with our clothes ;
eut them out for ourselves, and wear them out-in our

own day, and should no more think of resenting ourTHE BLACK DWARF. 67

. Ake 4 - ° ° :
father’s feuds, than of wearing their slashed doublets and
trunk-hose.”

66 7

You treat this far too lightly, Lucy,” answered Miss

Vere.

“ Not a bit, my dear Isabella,” said Lucy. “ Consider,
your fat

her, though present in the unhappy affray, is
never supposed to have struck the fatal blow ; besides, m
former times, in case of mutual slaughter between clans,
subsequent alliances were so far from being excluded,

that the hand of a daughter or a sister was the most
frequent gage of reconciliatio You laugh at my skill
in romance; “but, I assure you, should your history be
written, like that of many a less distressed and less
deserving heroine, the well-judging reader would set you
down for the lady and the love of I Earnscliff, from the
very obstacle which you suppose so insurmountable.”

“ But these are not the days of romance, but of sad
ney, for there stands the castle of Ellieslaw.”

‘ And there stands Sir Frederick Langley at the gate,
waiting to assist the ladies from their palfreys. I ae
as lief touch a toad; I will disappoint him, and take old
Horsington the groom for my master of the horse.”

So saying, the lively young lady switched her palfrey
forward, and passing Sir Frederick with a familiar nod
as he stood ready to take her horse’s rein, she cantered
on and jumped into the arms of the old groom. Fain
would Isabella have done the same had she dared ; but
her father stood near, displeasure already darkening on
a countenance peculiarly qué alified to express the harshe*
passions, and she was ‘compelled to receive the unwel

some assiduities of her detested suitor.WAVERLEY NOVELS.

CHAPTER VI.

Let not us that are squires of the night’s body be called thieves of the day's

booty; let us be Dina’s foresters, gent] emen of the shade, minions of the
aoe.

HENRY THE Fourtu, Fart I.

Due Solitary had consumed the remainder of the d: ay
in which he had the interview with the young ladies,
within the precinets of his garden. Evening again found
him seated on his favourite stone. The sun setting red,
uid among seas of rolling clouds, threw a gloomy lustre
over the moor, and gave a deeper purple to the broad
vutline of heathy mountains which surrounded this deso-
late spot. The Dwarf sate wate hing the clouds as they
ices above each other in masses of conglomeratea
vapours, and, as a strong lurid beam of the sinking lumi-
nary darted full on his solitary and uncouth figure, he
might well have seemed the demon of the storm which
was gathering, or some gnome summoned forth from the
recesses of the earth by the subterranean signals of its
approach. As he sate thus, with his dark eye turned
‘cwards the scowling and black <ening heaven, a horseman
rode rapidly up to him, and stopping, as if to let his horse
breathe for an instant, made a sort of obeisance to the

anchoret, with an air betwixt effrontery and embarrass-

ment.

The figure of the rider was thin, tall, and slender, but

remarkably athletic, bony, and sinewy ; like one who hadTHE BLACK DWARF. 62:

all his life followed those violent exercises which prevent
ac tate eee cn :

the human form from increasing in bulk, while they harden

and confirm by habit its muscular powers. His face, sharp-

featured, sun-burnt, and freckled, had a sinister expression

of violence, impudence, and cunning, each of which seemed

} . 4 m a
alternately to predominate over the others. Sandy coi-

oured hair, and reddish eye-brows, from under which
looked forth his sharp grey eyes, completed the inaus-
picious outline of the horseman’s physiognomy. He had
pistols im his holsters, and another pair peeped from his
belt, though he had taken some pains to conceal them by
buttoning his doublet. He wore a rusted steel head-
piece; a buff jacket of rather an antique cast; gloves, of
which that for the right hand was covered with small
scales of iron, like an ancient gauntlet ; and a long broad-
sword completed his equipage-

“So,” said the Dwarf, “rapine and murder once more
on horseback.”

“On horseback ?” said the bandit; “ay, ay, Elshie,
your leech-craft-has set me on the bonny bay again.”

“ And all those promises of amendment which you
made during your illness forgotten ?” continued Elshen-
der.

“ All clear away, with the water-saps and panada,”
returned the unabashed convalescent. “ Ye ken, Elshie,

for they say ye are weel acquent wi’ the gentleman,

When the devil was sick, the devil a monk would be,
When the devil was well, the devil a monk was he.’’

=

« Thou say’st true,” said the Solitary ; “as well divide

4 wolf from his appetite for carnage, or a raven from
> 4 ~ a Sk 71 2 Z

her scent of slaughter, as thee from thy accursed propea

tities.”1
|

fe et

f0 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

“Why, what would you have me to do? It’s born
with me—lies in my very blude and bane. Why, man,
the lads of Westburnflat, for ten lang descents, have been

 

reivers and lifters. They have all drunk hard, lived hich,
aking deep revenge for light offence, and never wanted
gear for the winning.”

“ Right; and thou art as thorough-bred a wolf,” said
the Dwarf, “as ever leapt a lamb-fold at night. On what
hell’s errand art thou bound now ?”

“Can your skill not cuess ?”

“Thus far I know,” said the Dwarf, “that thy purpose
is bad, thy deed will be worse, and the issue worst of
all.”

“ And you like me the better for it, Father Elshie, eh?”
said Westburnflat; “you always said you did.”

“ J have cause to like all,” answered the Solitary, “that
are scourges to their fellow-creatures, and thou art a
bloody one.”

“No—I say not guilty to that—never bluidy unless
there’s resistance, and that sets a man’s bristles up, ye
ken. And this is nae great matter, after a’; just to cut
the comb of -a young cock that has been crawing a little
ower crousely.”

“Not young Earnscliff ?” said the Solitary, with some
emotion.

“No; not young Earnscliff—not young EKarnscliff yet ;
but his time may come, if he will not take warning, and
get him back to the burrow-town that he’s fit for, and no
keep skelIping about here, destroying the few deer that
sre left in the country, and pretending to act as a macis-
trate, and writing letters to the great folk at Auld Reekie,
about the disturbed state of the land. Let him take care
» himsell.”THE BLACK DWARF. vi

ee Rare :
Then it must be Hobbie of the Heugh-foot,” said
99 :

Fishie. “ What harm has the lad done you:

“Harm! nae great harm; but I hear he says I staid
away from the Ba’spiel on Fastern’s E’en, for fear of him;
and it was only for fear of the Country Keeper, for there
was a warrant against me. I'll stand Hobbie’s feud, and
” his clan’s. But it’s not so much for that, as to gie him
« lesson not to let his tongue gallop ower freely about his
betters. I trow he will hae lost the best pen-feather 0
his wine before to-morrow. morning.—Farewell, Elshie ;

©

there’s some canny boys waiting for me down amang the
shaws, owerby ; I will see you as I come back, and bring
ye a blithe tale in return for your leech-cratt.”

Ere the Dwarf could collect himself to reply,. the
Reiver of Westburnflat set spurs to his horse. The ani-
mal, starting at one of the stones which lay scattered
about, flew from the path. The rider exercised his spurs
without moderation or mercy. The horse became furious,
reared, kicked, plunged, and bolted like a deer, with all
his four feet off the eround at once. It was in vain ; the
unrelenting rider sate as if he had been a part of the
horse which he bestrode ; and, after a short but furious
contest, compelled the subdued animal to proceed upon
the path at a rate which soon carried him out of sight of
the Solitary.

“That villain’, exclaimed the Dwarf—“ that col
blooded, hardened, unrelenting ruffian,—that wreteh,
has thewe

 

whose every thought is infected with crimes,
and sinews, limbs, strength, and activity enough to com-
pel a nobler animal than himself to carry him to the place
where he is to perpetrate his wickedness ; while I, bad I
the weakness to wish to put his wretched victim on his

ruard, and to save the helpless family, would see my good
—EI Eee,

 

 

aE

72 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

intentions frustrated by the decrepitude which chains me
to the spot—Why should I wish it were otherwise ?
What have my screech-owl voice, my hideous form, and
my mis-shapen features, to do with the fairer workman-
ship of nature? Do not men receive even my benefits
with shrinking horror and ill-suppressed disgust? And
why should I interest myself in a race which accounts
me a prodigy and an outcast, and which has treated me
as such? No; by all the ingratitude which I have re aped
—by_all the wrongs which I have sustained—by my im-
prisonment, my stripes LY 3G hains, I will ! wrestle down
my feelings of rebellious humanity! J] oli not be the
fool I have been, to swerve from my principles whenever
there was an appeal, forsooth, to my feelings; as if I,
towards whom none show sympathy, ought to have sym-
pathy with any one. Let Destiny drive forth her s scythed
var through the overwhelmed and trembling mass of hu-
manity! Shall I be the idiot to throw this deerepit form,
this mis-shapen lump of mortality, under her wheels, that
the Dwarf, the Wizard, the Hunchback. may save from
destruction some fair form or some active fr: ame, and all
the world clap their hands at the exch 1ange 2? No, never!
—And yet this Elliot—this Hobbie. so young and gallant,
so frank, so—I will think of it no longer. I cannot did him
if | would, and I am resolved—firmly resolved, that I would
not aid him, if a wish were the pledge of his safety |”
Having thus ended his soliloquy, he retreated into his
hut for shelter from the storm which was fast approaching,
and now began to burst in large and heavy drops of rain.
The last rays of the sun now disappeared entirely, and
two or three claps of distant thunder followed each other
a brief intervals, echoing and re- echoing among the r ‘ange
if heathy fells like the sound of a distant engagement.THE BLACK DWARF.

CHAPTER VIL.

Proud bird of the mountain, thy plume shall be torn !——
# * * * * * %

Return to thy dwelling; all lonely, return;

For the blackness of ashes shall mark where it stood,

And a wild mother scream o’er her famishing brood.

CAMPBELL.

Yue night continued sullen and stormy; but morning
rose as if refreshed by the rains. Even the Mucklestane-
Moor, with its broad bleak swells of barren grounds,
interspersed with marshy pools of water, seemed to smile
under the serene influence of the sky, just as good-
humour can spread a certain imexpressible charm over
the plainest human countenance. ‘The heath was in its
thickest and deepest bloom. The bees, which the Solitary
had added to his rural establishment, were abroad and on
the wing, and filled the air with the murmurs of thei
industry. As the old man crept out of his little hut, his
two she-goats came to meet him, and licked his hands in
6

eratitude for the vegetables with which he supplied them
from his garden. “ You, at least,’ he said—‘ you, at

least, see no differences in form which can alter your

feelings to a benefactor—to you, the finest shape that
ever statuary moulded would be an object of indifference
or of alarm, should it present itself instead of the mis-
shapen trunk to whose services you are accusic med.

rf ; } } TOT 1AT WI } Suc €
While I was in the world, did I ever meet with such aLad

i4 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

return of gratitude? No; the domestic whom I had
bred from infancy made mouths at me as he stood behind
my chair; the friend whom I had supported with my

(he

stopped with a strong convulsive shudder,) even he

 

fortune, and for whose sake I had even stained

thought me more fit for the society of lunatics—for thei
disgraceful restraints—for their cruel privations, than for
communication with the rest of humanity. Hubert alone
—-and Hubert too will one day abandon me. All are of

a piece, one mass of wickedness, selfishness, and ingrati-

 

tude—w retches, who sin even in their devotions; and ot
such hardness of heart, that they do not, without hypoc-
risy, even thank the Deity himself for his warm sun and
pure air.”

As he was plunged in these gloomy soliloquies, he
heard the tramp of a horse on the other side of his inclos
ure, and a strong clear bass voice singing with the liveli
ness inspired by a light heart,—

Cenny Hobbie Elliot, canny Hobbie now,
Canny Hobbie Elliot, ’'se gang alang wi’ you.

At the same moment, a large deer greyhound sprung
over the hermit’s fence. Jt is well known to the sports-
men in these wilds, that the appearance and scent of the
goat so much resemble those of their usual objects of
chase, that the best-broke greyhounds will sometimes fly
upon them. The dog in question instantly pulled down
and throttled one of the hermit’s she-goats, while Hobbie
Elliot, who came up, and jumped\from his horse for the
purpose, was unable. to extricate the harmless anima
trom the fangs of his attendant until it was expiring.
The Dwarf eyed, for a few moments, the convulsive

starts of his dying favourite, until-the poor goat stretchedTHE

   

BLACK DWARF. 75

ut her limbs wit itches «: shivering fi

D er limbs with the twitches and shivering fit of the
last agony. He then started into an access ot frenzy,
and unsheathing a long sharp knife, or dageer, which he
wore under his coat, he was about to launch it at the dog,
r Lan i, } > AP RAIN

when Hobbie, perceiving his purpose, interposed, and
s x} | ld se 1 1 gneo AW aie 1 ‘ , 7 6 Aq
caught hold of his hand, exclaiming, “ Let a be the hound,
man—let a be the hound !—Na, na, Killbuck mauna be
guided that gate, neither.”

 

The Dwarf turned his rage on the young farmer; and,
by a sudden effort, far more powerful than Hobbie
expected from such a person, freed his wrist from his
grasp, and offered the dagger at his heart. ~All this was
done in the twinkling of an eye, and the incensed Recluse
might have completed his vengeance by plunging the
weapon in Elliot’s bosom, had he-not been checked by an
internal impulse which made him hurl the knife to a
distance.

“No,” he exclaimed, as he thus voluntarily deprived
himself of the means of gratifying his rage; “not again
—not again!”

Hobbie retreated a step or two in great surprise, dis-
composure, and disdain, at having been placed in such
es by an object apparently so contemptible.

“The deil’s in the body for strength and bitterness!”
were ore first words that escaped him, which he followed
up with an apology for the accident that had given rise
to their disagreement. “T am no justifying Killbuck

—

athegither neither, and | am sure it is as vexing to me
as to you, Elshie, that the mischance should hae hap-
pened; but Pil send you twa goats and twa fat zimmers,
man, to make a’ straight again. A wise man like you
ghonldna bear malice against a poor dumb thing; ye see

that a goat’s like first-cousin to a deer, sae he acted butNO ES

 

a

ret eee

eee ee eee

Se sepa

oa eet FS

76

according to his nature after a’.
there wad hae been mair to be said.

WAVERLEY NOVELS.

 
  

Had it been a pet-lamb,
Ye suld keep sheep,

Elshie, and no goats, where there’s sae mony deer-hounds
about—but I’ll send ye baith.”

“ Wretch!” said the hermit, “your cruelty has de-
stroyed one of the only creatures in existence that would

look on me with kindness!”

“ Dear Elshie,” answered Hobbie, “ ’m wae ye suld
hae cause to say sae; ’m sure it wasna wi my will.
And yet, its true, I should hae minded your goats, and

coupled up the dogs.
worried the primest wether in my faulds.

forget and forgie.

I’m e’en as vexed as ye can be

 

I’m sure I would rather they had
Come, man,
But

I am a bridegroom, ye see, and that puts a’ things out 0’

my head, I think.

There’s the marriage-dinner, or gude

part o’t, that my twa brithers are bringing on a sled round

by the Riders’ Slack, three goodly bucks as ever ran on

Dallomlea, 2s the sang says; they couldna come

straight road for the saft grund. I wad send ye a

the
bit

venison, but ye wadna take it weel maybe, for Killbuck

catched it.”

During this long speech, in which the good-natured

Borderer endeavoured to -propitiate the offended Dwarf

by every argument he could think of, he heard him with

his eyes bent on the

ground, as if in the deepest med

ita-

ion, and at length broke forth—‘ Nature ?—yes! it is

indeed in the usual beaten path of Nature.

The strong

gripe and throttle the weak ; the rich depress and despoil

the needy; the hay

}
J

py (those who are idiots enough to

4

think themselves happy) insult the misery and diminish
the consolation of the wretched. Go hence, thou v

vho

hast conrived to give an additional pang to the most

miserable of human beings—thou who hast deprived meTHE BLACK DWARF. ria

sf what I half considered as a source of comfort. Go
hence, and enjoy the happiness prepared for thee at
home !” 7

“ Never stir” said Hobbie, “if I wadna take you wl
me, man, if ye wad but say it wad divert ye to be at the
bridal on Monday. There will be a hundred strapping
Elliots to ride the brouze—the like’s no been seen sin’
the days of auld Martin of the Preakin-tower—-I wad

 

send the sled for ye wi’ a canny powny.”

“Ts it to me you propose once more to mix in the
society of the common herd 2?” said the Recluse, with an
air of deep disgust.

“ Commons!” retorted Hobbie, “ nae siccan commons
neither; the Elliots hae been lang kend a gentle race.”

“ Hence! begone!” reiterated the Dwarf: “ may the
same evil luck attend thee that thou hast left behind with
me! If I go not with you myself, see if you can escape
what my attendants, Wrath and Misery, have brought to
thy threshold before thee.”

“JT wish ye wadna speak that gate,” said Hobbie.
“Ye ken yoursell, ‘Elshie, naebody- judges you to be
ower canny ; now, ll tell ye just ae word for a—ye hae
spoken as muckle as wussing ill to me and mine; now, if
ony mischance happen to Grace, which God forbid, or to
mysell, or to the poor dumb tyke; or if I be skaithed
and injured in body, gudes, or gear, Tll no forget wha tt
is that it’s owing to.”

“ Out, hind !” exclaimed the Dwarf; “ home! home te
your dwelling, and think on me when you find what aas
befallen there.”

sf Aweel, aweel,” said Hobbie, mounting his horse, cont
serves naething to strive wi’ cripples,—they are aye cans
tered; but Jl just tell ye ae thing, neighbour, that ifteenie STN
| CR SPREE a eee

" Som SO nw: ‘Ss

  

63 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

things be otherwise than weel wi’ Grace Armstrong, I’se
gie you a scouther, if there be a tar-barrel in the five
parishes.” ,

So saying, he rode off;*and Elshie, after looking at
him with a scornful and indignant laugh, took spade and
mattock, and occupied himself in digging a grave for his
deceased favourite.

A low whistle, and the words, “ Hisht, Elshie, hisht ! ”
disturbed him in this melancholy occupation. He looked
up, and the Red Reiver of Westburnflat was before him.
Like Banquo’s murderer, there was blood on his face, as
well as upon the rowels of his spurs and the sides of his
over-ridden horse.

“How now, ruffian?” demanded ‘the Dwarf, “ is thy
job chared ? ”

“ Ay, ay, doubt not that, Elshie,” answered the free-
booter ; “ when I ride, my foes may moan. They have
had mair light than comfort at the Heugh-foot this morn-
ing; there’s a toom byre and a wide, and a wail and a cry
for the bonny bride.

“The bride ?”

“ Ay; Charlie Cheat-the-Woodie, as we ca’ him, that’s
Charlie Foster of Tinning Beck, has promised to keep
her in Cumberland till the blast blaw by. She saw me,
and kend me in the splore, for the mask fell frae my face
‘or a blink. Iam thinking it wad concern my safety if
she were to come back here, for there’s mony-o’ the El-
liots, and they band weel thegither for right or wrang.
Now, what I chiefly come to ask your rede in, is how to
make her sure ? ”

“ Wouldst thou murder her then ? ”

“Umph ! no, no; that I would not do, if I could help
\t. But they say they can whiles get folk cannily awayTHE BLACK DWARF. 79

0 the plantations from some of the out-ports, and some-
thing to boot for them that brings a bonny wench.
They're wanted beyond seas thae female cattle, and
they're no that scarce here. But I think o’ doing better
for this lassie. There’s a leddy, that, unless she be a
the better bairn, is to be.sent to foreign parts whether
she will or no; now, I think of sending Grace to wait
on her—she’s a bonny lassie. Hobbie will hae a merry
morning when he comes hame, and misses baith bride and
gear.”

“ Ay; and do you not pity him ?” said the Recluse.

“ Wad he pity me were I gaeing up the Castle-hill at
Jeddart?* And yet I rue something for the bit lassie ;

 

but he’ll get anither, and little skaith dune—ane is as
eude as anither. And now, you that like to hear o’
splores, heard ye ever 0’ a better ane than I hae had this
morning ?”

« Air, ocean, and fire,” said the Dwarf, speaking to
himself, “the earthquake, the tempest, the volcano, are
all mild and moderate, compared to the wrath of man.
And what is this fellow, but one more skilled than others
in executing the end of his existence ?—Hear me, felon,
eo again where I before sent thee.”

“To the Steward ?”

“ Ay; and tell him, Elshender the Recluse commands
him to give thee gold. But, hear me, let the maiden be
lischarged free and uninjured ; return her to her friends,
and let her swear not to discover thy villany.”

“ Swear?” said Westburnflat ; “ but what if she break
ner aith 2? Women are not famous for keeping their pight.
A wise man like you should ken that. And uninjured--

* The place of execution of that ancient burgh, where many 0

Westburnflat 3 profession have made their final exit.ac 6M a 2

‘ ee
Tea ~ ad

_
wee

I ta cnree
a

 

arm
Re acre eie Eee

= SERN 5

= peer

80 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

wha kens what may happen were she to be left lang at
Tinning Beck? Charlie Cheat-the-Woodie is a rough
customer. But if the gold could be made up to twenty
pieces, I think I could ensure her being wi’ her friends
within twenty-four hours.”

The Dwarf took his tablets from his pocket, marked a
line on them, and tore out the leaf. “'There,” he said,
giving the robber the leaf—“ But, mark me; thou know-
est I am not to be fooled by thy treachery; if thou darest
to disobey my directions, thy wretched life, be sure, shall
answer for it.”

“JT know,” said the fellow, looking down, “that you
have power on earth, however you came by it; you can
do what nae other man can do, baith by physic and fore-
siz
fast as I have seen the ashkeys fall in a frosty morning in

ht; and the gold is shelled down when ye command, as

October. I will not disobey you.”

“ Begone then, and relieve me of thy hatefu! pres-
ence.”

The robber set spurs to his horse, and rode off without
reply.

Tobbie Elliot had, in the meanwhile, pursued his jour-
ney rapidly, harassed by those oppressive and indistinct
fears that all was not right, which men usually term a
presentiment of misfortune.- Ere he reached the top of
the bank from which he could look down on his own hab-
itation, he was met by his nurse, a person then of great
consequence in all families in Scotland, whether of the
higher or middling classes. The connexion between them
and their foster-children was considered a-tie far too
early intimate to be broken; and it asually happened,
mn the course of years, that the nurse became a resident

in the family of her foster-son, assisting in. the domesti¢THE BLACK DWARF. 8]

duties, and receiving all marks of attention and regard
from the heads of the family. So soon as Hobbie recog-
nised the figure of Annaple, in her red cloak and black
hood, he could not help exclaiming to himself, “ What ill
luck can hae brought the auld nurse sae far frae hame,
her that never stirs a gun-shot frae the doorstane for or-
dinar

 

Hout, it will just be to get crane-berries, or
wortle-berries, or some stch stuff, out of the moss, to
make the pies and tarts for the feast on Monday.—I can-
not get the words of that cankered auld cripple deil’s
buckie out o’ my head—the least thing makes me dread
some ill news. O Killbuck, man! were there nae deer
and goats in the country besides, but ye behoved to gang
and worry his creature, by a’ other folk’s ?

By this time Annaple, with a brow like a tragic vol-
ume, had hobbled towards him, and caught his horse by
the bridle. The despair in her look was so evident as to
deprive even him of the power of asking the cause. “O,
my bairn!” she cried, “gang na forward—gang na for-
ward—it’s a sight to kill onybody, let alane thee.”

“In God’s name, what’s the matter? said the aston-
ished horseman, endeavouring to extricate his bridle from
the grasp of the old woman ; “ for Heaven’s sake, let me
zo and see what’s the matter.”

“Ohon! that I should have lived to see the day !—
The steading’s a’ in a low, and the bonny stackyard lying
in the red ashes, and the gear a’ driven away. 3ut gang
na forward; it wad break your young heart, hinny, to see
what my auld een hae seen this morning.”

“ And who has dared to do this? let go my bridle,

 

Annaple—where is my grandmother—my sisters ‘—
Where is Grace Armstrong ?—God !—the words of the
{ 43 :

warlock are knelling in my ears;
VOL. XI. 6B2 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

He sprang from his horse to rid himself of Annaple’s
interruption, and, ascending the hill with great speed,
soon came in view of the spectacle with which she had
threatened him. It was indeed a heart-breaking sight.
The habitation which he had left in its seclusion, beside
the mountain-stream, surrounded with every evidence of
rustic plenty, was now a wasted and blackened ruin.
From amongst the shattered and sable walls the smoke
continued to rise. he turf-stack, the barn-yard, the
offices stocked with cattle, a'l the wealth of an upland
cultivator of the period, of which poor Elhot possessed

no common share, had been laid waste or carried off ina

single night. He stood a moment motionless, and then
exclaimed, “I am ruined—ruined to the ground i But
curse on the warld’s gear—Had it not been the week be-
fore the bridal—But I am nae babe, to sit down and greet
about it. If I can but find Grace, and my grandmother,
and my sisters weel, I can go to the wars in Flanders as
my gude-sire did, under the Bellenden banner, wi auld
Buccleuch. At ony rate, I will keep up a heart, or they
will lose theirs a’thegither.”

Manfully strode Hobbie down the hill, resolved to sup-
press his own despair, and administer consolation which
he did not feel. The neighbouring inhabitants of the
dell, particularly those of his own name, had already
assembled. ‘The younger part were in arms and clam-
orous for revenge, although they knew not upon whom ;
the elder were taking measures for the relief of the dis-
tressed family. Annaple’s cottage, which was situated
down the brook, at some distance from the scene of mis-
chief, had been hastily adapted for the temporary accom-
modation of the old lady and her daughters, with such
articles as had been contributed by the neighbours, for

very ‘little was saved from the wreck.THE BLACK DWARKE. 85

“Are we to stand here a’ day, sirs,” exciaimed one tall
young man, “and look at the burnt wa’s of our kinsman’s
house? Every wreath of the reek is a blast of shame
upon us! Let us to horse, and take the chase-—Who has
the nearest bloodhound ?

“Tt’s young Earnscliff,” answered another; “and he’s
been on and away wi’ six horse lang syne, to-see if he can
track them.”

“Let us follow him then, and raise the country, and
mak mair help as we ride, and then have at the Cumber-
land reivers! Take, burn, and slay—they that lie
nearest us shall smart first.”

“Whisht! haud your tongues, daft callants,” said an
old man, “ye dinna ken what ye speak about. What!
wad ye raise war atween twa pacificated countries ? ”

“And what signifies deaving us wi’ tales about our

99

fathers,” retorted the young man, “if we’re to sit and see
our friends’ houses burnt ower their heads, and no put
out hand to revenge them? Our fathers did not do that,
I trow?”

“Tam no saying ony thing against revenging Hobbie’s
wrang, puir chield; but we maun take the law wi’ us in
thae days, Simon,” answered the more prudent elder.

“ And besides,” said another old man, “ I dinna believe
there’s ane now living that kens the lawful mode of fol-
lowing a fray across the Border. amo’ Whittram kend
e’ about it; but he died in the hard winter.”

“ Ay,” said a third, “he was at the great guthering,
when they chased as far as Thirlwall; it was the year
after the fight of Philiphaugh.”

« Hout,” exclaimed another of these discording coun-
sellors, “ there’s nae great skill needed; just put a lighted
seat on the end of a spear, or hayfork, or sichke, andt

MME iE ~
TR Pee

> eI

 

$4 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

blaw a horn, and cry the gathering-word, and then it’s
lawful to follow gear into England, and recover it by the
strong hand, or to take gear frae some other Englishman,
providing ye lift mae mair than’s been lifted frae you.
That’s the auld Border law, made at Dundrennan, in the
days of the Black Douglas. Deil ane need doubt it. It’s
as clear as the sun.”

)

‘Come away, then, lads,” cried Simon, “get to your
geldings, and we'll take auld Cuddie the muckle tasker
wi’ us; he kens the value o’ the stock and plenishing
that?s been lost. Hobbie’s stalls and stakes shall be fou
again or night; and if we canna big up the auld house
sae soon, we’se lay an English ane as low as Heugh-foot
is—and that’s fair play, a’ the warld ower.”

This animating proposal was received with great ap-
plause by the younger part of the assemblage, when a
whisper ran among them, “ There’s Hobbie himsell, puir
fallow! we'll be guided by him.”

The principal sufferer, having now reached the bottom
of the hill, pushed on through the crowd, unable, from the
tumultuous state of his feelings, to do more than receive
and return the grasps of the friendly hands by which his
neizhbours and kinsmen mutely expressed their sym-
pathy in his misfortune. While he pressed Simon of
Haekburn’s hand, his anxiety at length found words.

“Thank ye, Simon—thank ye, neighbours—I ken what
”

 

ye wad a’ say. But where are they '—Where are
He stopped, as if afraid even to name the objets of his
inquiry; and with a similar feeling, his kinsmen, without
reply, pointed to the hut, into which Hobbie precipitatea
himself with the desperate air of one who is resolved ta
know the worst at once. A general and powerful expres-
sion of sympathy accompanied him. ‘ Ah, puir fallow—~
ouir Hobbie !”THE BLACK DWARF. RA

{

“ He'll learn the warst o’t now!
“ But 1 trust Earnscliff will get some speerings o’ the
puir lassie.”

Such were the exclamations of the group, who, havin

Ge

o acknowledged leader to direct their motions, passively
awaited the return of the sufferer, and determined to be
guided by his directions.

The meeting between Hobbie and his family was in

the highest degree affecting. His sisters threw them-

©

selves upon him, and almost stifled him with their

caresses, as if to prevent his looking round to dis-
tinguish the absence of one yet more beloved.

“ God help thee, my son! He can help when worldly
trust is a broken reed.”—-Such was the welcome of the
matron to her unfortunate grandson. He looked eagerly
round, holding two of his si isters by the hand, while the
third hung about his neck—“I see you—I count you—
my g: randmother, Lilias, Jean, and Annot; but where is

2 “(be hesi ated, and then continued, as if with an
effort,) “ Where is Grace? Surely this is not a time
to hide hersell frae me—there’s nae time for dafling
now.”

«© brother!” and “ Our poor Grace!” was the only
answer his questions could procure, till his grandmother
rose up, and gent ly dise1 gaged him from the weeping
girls, led him to a seat, and with the affecting serenity
which sincere piety, like oil sprinkled on t he waves, can
throw over the most acute feelings, she s aid, “ My bairn,

¢

4)

when thy grandfather was killed in the wars, and leit

o

4

st} Bare 1 rT.) Qf ava

with six orphans around me, with searce bread to Cat, OI

R noe to cover us, I had strength,—not of mine own-—=
fia aaa

but I had strength given me to say, The Lords will be

done !—My son, our peaceful louse was last night broket—
ax

PE

I cota

 

Ee Reece.

¢ NR ReNRNE eo

ne AapaeaaN +E

B6 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

into by moss-troopers, armed and masked ; they have
taken and destroyed all, and carried off our dear Grace.
Pray for strength to say, His will be done!”

“ Mother! mother! urge me not—I cannot—not now
—I am a sinful. man, and of a hardened race. Masked
-—armed—Grace carried off! Gie me my sword, and
my father’s knapsack—I will have vengeance, if I should
go to the pit of darkness to seek it !”

“O my bairn, my bairn! be patient under the rod.
Who knows when He may lift his hand off from us?
Young Earnscliff, Heaven bless him, has taen the chase,
with Davie of Stenhouse, and the first comers. I cried
to let house and plenishing burn, and follow the reivers
to recover Grace, and Earnscliff and his men were ower
the Fell within three hours after the deed. God bless
him ! he’s a real Earnscliff; he’s his father’s true son—a
leal friend.”

“A true friend indeed; God bless him!” exclaimed
Hobbie; “let’s on and away, and take the chase after
him.”

“Oh, my child, before you run on danger, let me hear
you but say, Hrs will be done!”

“ Urge me not, mother—not now.” He was rushing
out, when, looking back, he observed his grandmother
make a mute attitude of affliction. He returned hastily,
threw himself into her arms, and said, “ Yes, mother, I
can say, His will be done, since it will coenfort you.”

“ May He go forth—may He go forth with you, my
dear bairn ; and oh, may He give you cause to say on
your return, Hrs name be praised ! ”

“ Farewell, mother !__farewell, my dear sisters ! ” ex
wlaimed Elliot, and rushed out of the house.THE BLACK DWARF

CHAPTER VIII.

Now horse, and hattock, cried the Laird,—
Now horse and hattock, speedilie ;

They that winna ride for Telfer’s kye,
Let them never look in the face 0’ me.

BorpER BALLAD.

«“ Horse! horse! and spear!” exclaimed Hobbie te
his kinsmen. Many a ready foot was in the stirrup ; and,
while Elliot hastily collected arms and accoutrements, (no
sasy matter in such a confusion,) the glen resounded with
the approbation of his younger friends.

«Ay, ays exclaimed Simon of Hackburn, “ that’s
the gate to take it, Hobbie. Let women sit and greet at
hame, men must do as they have been done by; it’s the
Scripture says ’t.”

“Haud your tongue, sir,” said one of the seniors,
sternly ; “ dinna abuse the Word that gate, ye dinna ken
what ye speak about.”

“ Hae ye ony tidings >—Hae ye ony speerings, Hob-
bie ?—O, callants, dinna be ower hasty,” said old Dick
of the Dingle.

“ What signifies preaching to us, e’enow?” said Si-
mon; “if ye canna make help yoursell, dinna keep back
them that can.”

“ Whisht, sir; wad ye take vengeance or ye ken wha

gee SY 9 SOM:
yas wrangd ye:28 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

“D’ye think we dinna ken the road Lu England as
weel as our fathers before us ?—All evil comes out o
theraway

 

it’s an auld saying and a true; and we’ll e’en
away there, as if the devil was blawing us south.”

“ We'll follow the track o’ Earnscliff’s horses ower the
waste,” cried one Elliot.

“Til prick them out through the blindést moor in the
Border, an there had been a fair held there the day be-
fore,” said Hugh, the blacksmith of Ringleburn, “for J
nye shoe his horse wi’ my ain hand.”

“ Lay on the deer-hounds,” cried another ; “where are
they?”

“ Hout, man, the sun’s been lang up, and the dew is
aff the grund—+the scent will never lie.”

Hobbie instantly whistled on his hounds, which were
roving about the ruins of their old habitation, and filling
the air with their doleful howls.

“ Now, Killbuck,” said Hobbie, « try thy skill this day”’
—and then, as if a light had suddenly broke on him,—
“that ill-faur’d goblin spak something o’ this! He may
ken mair o’t, either by villains on earth, or devils below
ili “hae it frae him, if E should cut it out o’ his mis-
shapen bouk wi’ my whinger.”. He then hastily gave
directions to his comrades ;“ Four 0° ye, wi’ Simon, haud
right forward to Grame’s-gap. i they’re English, they'll
be for being back that way. The rest disperse by twa-
some and threesome through the waste, and meet me at
the Trysting-pool. Tell my brothers when they come
up, to follow and meet us there. Poor lads. they will
hae hearts weelnigh as sair as mine: little think they
what a sorrowful house they are bringing their venison
to! Tl ride ower Mucklestane-Moor mysell.”

“And if I were you,” said Dick of the-Dingle, «J
? wilyTHE BLACK DWARRF.

would speak to Canny Elshie. He can tell you whateve
betides in this land, if he’s sae minded.”

“ Tle shail tell me,” said Hobbie, who was busy puttin
his arms in order, “ what he kens o” this nivht’s job, or
shall right weel ken wherefore he does not.”

Cc

o
5
+
+

“Ay, but speak him fair, my bonny man—speak him
fair,- Hobbie; the like o’ him will no bear thrawing.
They converse sae muckle wi’ thae fractious ghaists and
evil spirits, that it clean spoils their temper.”

“Let me alane to guide him,” answered Hobbie;
“there’s that in my breast this day, that would ower-
maister a’ the warlocks on earth, and a’ the devils in
hell.”

And being now fully equipped, he threw himself on
his horse, and spurred him at a rapid pace against the
steep ascent.

Elliot speedily surmounted the hill, rode down the
other side at the same rate, crossed a wood, and traversed
a long glen, ere he at length regained Mucklestane-Moor.
As he was obliged, in the course of his journey, to relax
his speed in consideration of the labour which his horse
might still have to undergo, he had tine to coven
maturely in what manner he should address the Dwarf,
in order to extract from him the knowledge which he
supposed him to be in possession of concerning the au-
thors of his misfortunes. Hobbie, though blunt, plain of
speech, and hot of disposition, like most of his country-
men, was by no means deficient in ° ‘the shrewdness which
‘s also their characteristic. He reflected, that from what
be had observed on the memorable night when the
Dwarf was first seen, and from the couduct of that mys-
terious being ever since, he was likely to be rendered even
wore obstinate in his sullenness by threats and v inlences—_
menos a
ell -

2 NUM Si ty GE RT ef cera;
SMR IER A ci NS ea RAR

90 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

“Tl speak him fair,” he said, “ as auld Dickon advised
me. Though folk say he has a league wi Satan, he
eannu be sic an incarnate devil as no to take some pity
in a case like mine; and folk threep he’ll whiles do geod,
charitable sort o’ things. Ill keep my heart doun as
well as I can, and stroke him wi’ the hair; and if the
warst come to the warst, it’s but wringing the head o’
him about at last.” :

In this disposition of accommodation he approached
the hut of the Solitary.

The old man was not upon his seat of audience, nor
could Hobbie perceive him in his garden, or inclosures.

“ He’s gotten into his very keep,” said Hobbie, “ maybe
to be out o’ the gate; but Pse pu’ it doun about his lugs,
if I canna win at him otherwise.”

Having thus communed with himself, he raised his
voice, and invoked Elshie, in a tone as supplicating as
his conflicting feelings would permit. “ Hishie, my gude
friend!” No reply. “Elshie, canny Father Elshie!”
The Dwarf remained mute. ‘ Sorrow be in the crooked
eareass of thee!” said the Borderer between his teeth ;

“ (Good

 

and then again attempting a soothing tone,
Father Elshie, a most miserable creature desires seme
counsel of your wisdom.”

“The better!” answered the shriH and discordant
voice of the Dwarf through a very small window, re-
sembling an arrowslit, which he had constructed near
the door of his dwelling, and through which he could see
any one who approached it, without the possibility of
their looking in upon him.

“The better!” said Hobbie impatiently ; “ what is the
better, Elshie? Do you not hear me tell you I am the
most miserable wretch living ? ”THE BLACK DWARF. 9)

“And do you not hear me tell you it is so muc

h the
better? and did I not tell you this m

orning, when you
thought yourself so happy, what an evening was coming
upon you?”

“That ye did e’en,” replied Hobbie, “and that vars
me come to you for advice now; they that foresaw the
trouble maun ken the cure.”

“I know no cure for earthly trouble,” returned the
Dwarf; “ or if I did, why should I help others, when
none hath aided me? Have I not lost wealth, that would
have bought all thy barren hills a hundred times over?
rank, to which thine is as that of a peasant ? society,
where there was an interchange of all that was amiable—
of all that was intellectual? Have I not lost all this?
Am I not residing here, the veriest outcast on the face
of Nature, in the most hideous and most solitary of her
retreats, myself more hideous than all that is around
me? And why should other worms complain to me
when they are trodden on, since I am myself lying
erushed and writhing under the chariot wheel ? ”

“ Ye may have lost all this,” answered Hobbie, in the
bitterness of emotion; “land and friends, goods and
gear; ye may hae lost them a’,—but ye ne’er can hae
sae sair a heart as mine, for ye ne’er lost nae Grace
Armstrong. And now my last hopes are gane, and I
shall ne’er see her mair.”

This he said in a tone of deepest emotion—and thee
‘ollowed.a long pause, for the mention of his brice’s
name had overcome the more angry and irritable feel-
ings of poor Hobbie. Ere he had again addressed the
Solitary, the bony hand and long fingers of the latter,
holding a large leathern bag, was thrust forth at the
small window, and as it unclutched the burden, and let iter *

Dom Raa YE

 

  
  
  
   
  
  
     
   
 
 
    
  
   
  
    
  
  
   
  
   
   

32 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

drop with a clang upon the ground, his harsh voice again
addressed Elliot.

“ There—there lies a salve for every human ill; so, at
least, each human wretch readily thinks.—Begone; re-
turn twice as wealthy as thou wert before yesterday, and
forment me no more with ques stions, Col nplaints, or thanks;
they are alike odious to me.

“It’s a’ gowd, said Elliot, having glanced
ai the contents; and then again addressing the Hermit,
Wel aee tis T

SANE (RTs f hs = ole rl rac thal
obliged for your good-will;.and I wad blithely
é o/ © -

CoN Te
WiUCK LE

gie you a bond for some o’ the siller, or a wadset ower
the lands o’ Wideopen. But I dinna ken, Elshie; to be
free wi’ you, I dinna like to use siller unless I kend it was
decently come by ; and maybe it might turn into sclate-
stanes, and cheat some poor man.”

“Jonorant idiot!” retorted the Dwarf; “the trash 13
us genuine poison as ever was dug out of the bowels of
the earth. Take it—use it, and may it thrive with you
as it hath done with me!”

“ But I tell you,” said Elliot, “it wasna about the gear
that I was BnSLEE you,—it was a braw barn-yard,
doubtless, and thirty head of finer-cattle there werena on

this side of the Catrail; but let the gear gang,—if ye

could gie me but speerings o’ puir Grace, I would be con-
tent to be your slave for life, in ony thing that didna
touch my salvation. O, Elshie, speak, man, speak !”

“Well, then,” answered the Dwarf, as if worn out by
his importunity, “since thou hast not enougl of woes
of thine own, but must needs seek to burden thyself with
hose of a partner, seck her whom thou hast lost in the
West.”

“Inthe West? Thats a wide word.’

“Jt is the last,” said the Dwarf, “which I design tyTHE BLACK DWARF. 93

99 e e
atter;” and he drew the shutters of his window, leaving
Hobbie to make the most of the hint he had given.
rWNy 5 " fens - ° ‘ °
The west !—the west !—thought Elliot; the country is
pretty quiet down that way, unless it were Jock o’ the
Todholes ; and he’s ower auld now for the like o’ thae jobs.

Wicca 5

VV ost \— By mv life, it must be \

Vestburnflat. “ Elshie,
jast tell me one word. Am I right? Is it Westburnflat ?
If I am wrang, say sae. I wadna like to wyte an inno-
cent neighbour wi yiolence—No answer ’-—It must be the

Red Reiver

 

I didna think he wad hae ventured on me,
neither, and sae mony kin as there’s 0’ us-—I am thinking
he’ll hae some better backing than his Cumberland trends.
—Fareweel to you, Elshie, and mony thanks—I downa
be fashed w?’ the siller e’en now, for I maun awa’ to meet
my friends at the Trysting-place—Sae, if ye carena to
open the window, ye can fetch it in after ’m awa’.”

Still there was no reply.

“ He’s deaf, or he’s daft, or he’s baith; but I hae nae
time to stay to claver wr him.”

And off rode Hobbie Elliot towards the place of ren-
dezvous which he had named to his friends.

Four or five riders were already gathered at the Tryst-
ing pool. They stood in close consultation together, while
their horses were permitted to graze among the poplars
whieh overhung the broad still pool. A more numerous
party were seen coming from the southward. . It proved
to be Earnscliff and his party, who had followed the track
of the cattle as far as the English border, but had halted
on the information that a considerable force was drawn
tovether under some of the jacobite gentlemen in that
district, and there were tidings of insurrection in different
parts of Scotland. This took away from the act which
had been perpetrated the appearance of private animosity,54 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

or love of plunder; and Earnscliff was now disposed to
regard it as a symptom of civil war. The young gentle-
man greeted Hobbie with the most sincere sympathy, and
informed him of the news he had received.

“Then, may I never stir frae the bit,” said Eniot, “ if
auld Jllieslaw is not at the bottom o’ the haill villany
Ye see he’s leagued with the Cumberland Catholies ; and
that agrees weel wi’ what Elshie hinted about Westburn-
flat, for Ellieslaw aye protected him, and he will want to
harry and disarm the country about his ain hand before
he breaks out.”

Some now remembered that the party of ruffians had
been heard to say they were acting for James VIII. and
were charged to disarm all rebels. Others had heard
Westburnflat boast, in drinking parties, that Ellieslaw
would soon be in arms for the Jacobite cause, and that he
himself was to hold a command under him, and that they
would be bad neighbours for young Earnscliff, and all
that stood out for the established government. The result
was a strong belief that Westburnflat had headed the
party under Ellieslaw’s orders, and they resolved to pro-
ceed instantly to the house of the former, and, if possible,
to secure his person. They were by this time joined by
so many of their dispersed friends, that their number
amounted to upwards of twenty horsemen, well mounted,
and tolerably, though variously, armed.

A brook, which issued from a narrow glen among the
hills, entered, at Westburnflat, upon the open marshy level,
which, expanding about half a mile in every direction,
gives name to the spot. In this place the character of the
stream becomes changed, and from being a lively brisk-
running mountain torrent, it stagnates, like a blue swollen

snake, in dull deep windings, through the swampy levelTHE BLACK DWARF

On the side of the stream, and nearly about the centre
of the plain, arose the tower of Westburnflat, one of the
few remaining strongholds formerly s¢ numerous upon the
borders. The ground upon which it stood was gently
elevated above the marsh for the space of about a hun-
dred yards, affording an esplanade of dry turf, which
extended itself in the immediate neighbourhood of the
tower; but, beyond which, the surface presented to stran-
gers was that of an impassable and dangerous bog. The
owner of the tower and his. inmates alone knew the wind-
ing and intricate paths, which leading over ground that
was comparatively sound, admitted visitors to his resi-
dence. But among tke party which were assembled
under Earnscliff’s directions, there was more than one
person qualified to act as a guide. For although the
owner’s character and habits of life were generally known,
yet the laxity of feeling with respect to property pre-
vented his being looked on with the abhorrence with
, he must have been regarded in a more civilized
He was considered among his more peaceable

whicl
country:
neighbours, pretty much as a gambler, cock-fighter, or

«

norse-jockey, would be regarded at the present day; a
ourse, whose habits were to be condemned,

person, of¢
voided, yet who could not be

and his society, in general, a
considered as marked with the indelible infamy attached
to his profession where laws have been habitually ob-
And their indignation was awakened against

served.
on account of the

him: upon this occasion, not so much up
general nature of the transaction, which w
as to be expected from this marauder, as that the v1o-

e had been perpetrated upon a neighbour against
friend of

as just such as

Ww
lene
whom he had no cause of quarrel,—agaimst a

heir own,—above all, against one of the name of Kthot96 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

to which clan most of them belonged. It was not there-
fore, wonderful, that there should be several in the band
pretty well acquainted with the locality of his habitation,
and capable of giving such directions and guidance as
soon placed the whole~party on the open space of firm
ground in front of the Tower of Westburnflat.THE BLACK DWARF.

CHAPTER IX.

So spak the knicht; the geaunt; sed,
Lead forth with the, the sely maid,

And mak me quite of the and sche;
For glaunsing ee, or brow so brent,

Or cheek with rose and lilye blent,
Me lists not ficht with the.

ROMANCE OF THE FALcon.

Tue tower, before which the party now stood, was a
small square building of the most gloomy aspect. The
walls were of great thickness, and the windows, or slits
which served the purpose of windows, seemed rather
calculated to afford the defenders the means of employing
missile weapons, than for admitting air or light to the
apartments within. A small battlement projected over
the walls on every side, and afforded farther ad vantage
of defence by its niched parapet, within which arose a
steep roof, flagged with grey stones. <A single turret at
one angle, defended by a door studded with huge iron
nails, rose above the battlement, and gave access to the
roof from within, by the spiral staircase which it enclosed.
It seemed to the party that their motions were watched
by some one concealed within this turret; and they were
confirmed in their belief, when, through a narrow loop-
hole, a female hand was seen to wave a handkerchief, as
if by way of signal to them. Hobbie was almost cut of
}is senses with joy and eagerness.

VOL XI. gpee

Se aioe

 

98 WAVERLEY NOV4UTS.

“Tt was Grace’s hand andarm,” he said; “ I can swear
to it amang a thousand. ‘There is not the like of it on
this side of the Lowdens—We’ll have her out, lads, if
we should carry off the Tower of Westburnflat stane by
stane,”

Karnscliff, though he doubted the possibility of recog-
nising a fair maiden’s hand at such a distance from the
eye of the lover, wouid say nothing to damp his friend’s
animated hopes, and it was resolved to summon the
garrison.

The shout of the party, and the winding of one or two
horns, at length brought to a loophole, which flanked the
entrance the hageard face of an old woman.

“‘That’s the Reiver’s mother,” said one of the Elliots;
“she’s ten’ times ‘waur than himsell, and is wyted for
muckle of the ill he does about the country.”

“Wha are ye? What d’ye want here?” were the
queries of the respectable progenitor.

“We are seeking William Greme of Westburnflat,”
said Earnscliff.

‘“ He’s no at hame,” returned the old dame.

“When did he leave home?” pursued Earnscliff.

“T canna tell,” said the portress.

“When will he return?” said Hobbie Elliot.

“T dinna ken naething about it,” replied the inexorable
guardian of the keep.

“Is there any body within the tower with you?” again
femanded Earnscliff.

‘““Naebody but mysell dnd baudrons,” said the old
woman.

“Then open the gate and admit us,” said Earnscliff;
“Tam a justice of peace, and in search of the evidence
of a felony.”THE BLACK DWARER. 99

“ Deil be in their fingers that draws a bolt for ye;
retorted the portress; “for mine shall never do. it.
Thinkna ye shame o’ yoursells, to come here siccan a
band o’ ye, wi’ your swords, and spears, and steel-caps, to
frighten a lone widow woman ?”

“Our information,” said Earnscliff, “is positive; we
ure seeking goods which have been forcibly carried off, to
a great amount.”

“ And a young woman, that’s been cruelly made pris-
oner, that’s worth mair than a’ the gear, twice told,”
said ILobbie.

“And I] warn you,” continued Earnscliff, “that your
only way to prove your son’s innocence is to give us quiet
admittance to search the house.”

“ And what will ye do, if I carena to thraw the keys,
or draw the bolts, or open the grate to sic a clamjam-
frie?” said the old dame, scoffingly.

“Force our way with the king’s keys, and break the
neck of every living soul we find in the house, if ye

dinna gie it ower forthwith!” menaced the incensed

Hobbie.
“Threatened folks live lang,” said the hag, in the

 

same tone of irony; “there’s the iron grate—try your
skeel on’t, lads—it has kept out as gude men as you, or
now.”

So saying, she laughed, and withdrew from the aper-
ture through which she had held the parley.

The besiegers now opened a serious consultation. The
‘mmense thickness of the walls, and the small size of the
windows, might, for a time, have even resisted cannon-
shot. The entrance was secured, first, by a strong
grated door, composed entirely of hammered iron, a such
ponderous strength as seemed calculated to resist anyet a!

}
i

ee a

nero oaneni
OTP ARIE”,

LOO WAVERLEY NOVELS.

force that could be brought against it.- “ Pinches or fore-
hammers will never pick upon’t,” said Hugh, the black-
smith of Ringleburn; “ye might as weel batter at it w?
22
Within the doorway, and at the distance of nine feet,
which was the solid thickness of the wall, there was a
}

second door of oak, crossed, both breadth and lengthways,
eee as se 7 4 1 ‘3 . orien
with clenched bars of iron, and studded full of broad-

headed nails. Besides all these defences, they were by
no means confident in the truth of the old dame’s asser-
tion, that she alone composed the garrison. The more
knowing of the party had observed hoof-marks in the
track by which they approached the tower, which seemed
to indicate that several persons had very lately passed in
that direction.

Lo all these difficulties was added their want of means
for attacking the place. There was no hope of procuring
ladders long enough to reach the battlements, and the
windows, besides being very narrow, were secured with
iron bars. Scaling was therefore out of the question ;
mining was still more so, for want of tools and gun
powder ; neither were the besiegers provided with food,
means of shelter, or other conveniences, which might
have enabled them to convert the siege into a blockade ;
and there would, at any rate, have been a risk cf relief
irom some of the marauder’s comrades. Hobbie grinded
and gnashed his teeth, as, walking round the fastness, he
could devise no means of making a foreible entry. At
length he suddenly exclaimed, “ And what for no do as
our fathers did lang syne? Put hand to the wark, lads.
Let us cut up bushes and briers, pile them before the
door and set fire to them, and smoke that auld devil’s
dam as if she were to be reested for bacon.”THE BLACK DWARF. 101

All immediately closed with this proposal, and some
went to work with swords and knives to cut down the
alder and hawthorn bushes which grew by the side of the
sluggish stream, many of which were sufficiently decayed
and dried for their purpose, while others began to collect

properly disposed for burning, as
1 1

lose to the iron-grate as they could be

4 zi ool ; q |
them in a large stack,
CO

4 sy
yiled. Eire was

"D

—

€

speedily obtained from one of their guns, and Hobbie was
already advancing to the pile with a kindled brand, when
the surly face of the robber, and the muzzle of a musque-
toon, were partially shown at a shot-hole which flanked
the entrance. “ Mony thanks to ye,” he said, scoffingly,
“for collecting sae muckle winter eilding for us; but if
ye step a foot nearer it wY that lunt, it’s be the dearest
step ye ever made in your days.”

«We'll sune see that,” said Hobbie, advancing fear-
lessly with the torch.

The marauder snapped his piece at him, which, for-
tunately for our honest friend, did not go off; while
Earnscliff, firing at the same moment at the narrow aper-
ture and slight mark afforded by the robber’s face, grazed
the side of his head with a bullet. He had apparently
calculated upon his post affording him more security, for
he no sooner felt the wound, though'a very slight one,
than he requested a parley, and demanded to know what
they meant by att eking in this fashion a peaceable and
honest man, and shedding his blood in that lawless manner °

“« We want your prisoner,” said Earnscliff, “to be
lelivered up to us 10 safety.”

“ And what concern have you with her?” replied the
marauder.

“ That,” retorted Earnscliff, “you, who are detaining

Ge ei
wer by force, have no right to inquire.ae oe

 

 

  

102 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

“ Aweel, I think I can gie a guess,” said the robber
* Weel, sirs, I am laith to enter into deadly feud with you~
by spilling ony of your bluid, though Earnscliff hasna
stopped to shed mine—and he can hit a mark to a
groat’s breadth—so, to prevent mair skaith, I am willing
to deliver up the prisoner, since nae less will please
you.

“And Hobbie’s gear?” cried Simon of Hackburn.
“ Dye think you’re to be free to plunder the faulds and
byres of a gentle Elliot, as if they were an auld wife’s
hen’s-cavey ?”

“As I live by bread,” replied Willie of Westburnflat—
“As I live by bread, I have not a single cloot o’ them!
They’re a’ ower the march lang syne; there’s no a horn
o them about the tower. But I'll see what o’ them can
be gotten back, and I'll take this day twa days to meet
Hobbie at the Castleton wi’ twa friends on ilka side, and
see to mak an agreement about a’ the wrang he can
wyte me wi.”

 

“Ay, ay,” said Elliot, “that will do weel eneugh.”
And then aside to his kinsman, “ Murrain on the gear !
Lordsake, man! say nought about them. Let us but get
puir Grace out o’ that auld hellicat’s clutches.”

“Will ye gie.me your word, Earnscliff’ said the
marauder, who still lingered at the shot-hole, “your faith
and troth, with hand and glove, that I
and free to

am free to come
gae, with five minutes to open the grate, and
five minutes to steek it and to draw the bolts? less winna
lo, for they want creishing sairly. Will ye do this?”

“You shall have full time,” said Earnscliff; “T plight
my faith and troth, my hand and my glove.”

“ Wait there a moment, then,” said Westburnflat ; “ oy
vear ye, 1 wad rather ye wad fa’ back a pistol-shot fromTHE BLACK DWARF. 103

the door. It’s no that I mistrust your word, Karnscliff
but it’s best to be sure.”

“Oh, friend,” thought Hobbie to himself, as he drew
back, “an I had you but on Turner’s-holm,* and naebody
by but twa honest lads to see fair play, I wad make ye
wish ye had broken your leg ere ye had touched beast or
body that belonged to me!”

“ He has a white feather in his wing, this same West-
burnflat, after a’,” said Simon of Hackburn, somewhat
scandalized by his ready surrender.—* He'll ne’er fill his
father’s boots.”

In the meanwhile, the inner door of the tower was
opened, and the mother of the freebooter appeared in the
space betwixt that and the outer grate. Willie himself
was next seen, leading forth a female ; and the old woman,
carefully bolting the grate behind them, remained on the
post as a sort of sentinel.

“ Ony ane or twa o ye come forward,” said the outlaw,
“and take her frae my, hand baill and sound.”

Hobbie advanced eagerly to meet his betrothed bride.
Earnscliff followed more slowly, to cuard against treach-
ery. Suddenly Hobbie slackened his pace in the deepest
mortification, while that of ‘arnscliff was hastened by
impatient surprise. It was not Grace Armstrong, but
Miss Isabella Vere, whose liberation had been effected by
their appearance before the tower.

s Where is. Grace? where is Grace Armstrong?”
exclaimed Hobbie, in the extremity of wrath and indig-

nation.

* There is a level meadow on the very margin of the two kingdoms,
-holm, just. where the brook called Crissop joins the

ealled Turner’s
as being aplace frequeatly

Viddel. It is said to have derived its name

assigned for tourneys, during the ancient Border times.er eg,

ere en

gs RT ON eG RIO

mai Ri. ~ de
aD Re RS nr

een

arene PNRM

 

i —
linn

104 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

“ Not in my hands,” answered Westburnflat ; “ ye may
search the tower, if ye misdoubt me.”

“ You false villain, you shall account for her, or die on
the spot,” said Elliot, presenting his gun.

But his companions, who now came up, instantly dis-
armed him of his weapon, exclaiming, all at once, “ Hand
and glove! faith and troth! Haud a care, Hobbie; we
maun keep our faith wi’ Westburnflat, were he the greatest
rogue ever rode.”

Thus protected, the outlaw recovered his audacity,
which had been somewhat daunted by the menacing
gesture of Elliot.

“T have kept my word, sirs,” he said, “and I look to
have nae wrang amang ye. If this is no the prisoner ye
sought,” he said, addressing Earnscliff, “ yell render her
back to me again. J am answerable for her to those that
aught. her.”

“or God’s sake, Mr. Earnscliff, protect me!” said
Miss Vere, clinging to her deliverer; “do not you aban-
don one whom the whole world seems to have abandoned.”

“ Fear nothing,” whispered Earnseliff, “I will protect
you with my life.” Then turning to Westburnflat, “ Vil-
lain!” he said, “how dared you to insult this lady ?”

“ For that matter, Earnscliff,” answered the freebooter,
“J can answer to them that has better right to ask me
than you have; but if you come with an armed force,
and take her awa’ from them that her friends lodged her
wi, how will you answer that 2—But it’s your ain affair—
Nae single man can keep a tower against twenty——A’ the
men 0’ the Mearns downa do mair than they dow.”

“ He lies most falsely,” said Isabella; “he carried me
off by violence from my father.”

“ Maybe he only wanted ye to think sae, himny,” repliedTHE BLACK DWARF. 105
the robber; “but is nae business 0’ mine, let it be as it
may.—So ye winna resign her back to me?”

“ Back to you, fellow! Surely no,” answered Earns
cliff; “I will protect Miss Vere, and escort her safely
wherever she is pleased to be conveyed.”

“ Ay, ay, maybe you and her hae settled that already,”
said Willie of Westburnflat.

“And Grace?” interrupted Hobbie, shaking himself
loose from the friends who had been preaching to him the
sanctity of the safe-conduct, upon the faith of which the
freebooter had ventured from his tower,—“ Where’s
Grace ?” and he rushed on the marauder, sword in hand.

Westburnflat, thus pressed, after calling out, “ Godsake,
Hobbie, hear me a gliff!” fairly turned his back and fled.

His mother stood ready to open and shut the erate; but

Hobbie struck at the freebooter as he entered, with so
much force, that the sword made a considerable cleft in
the lintel of the vaulted door, which is still shown as a
memorial of the superior strength of those who lived in
the days of yore. Ere Hobbie could repeat the blow,
the door was shut and secured, and he was compelled to
retreat to his companions, who were now preparing to
break up the siege of Westburnflat. They insisted upon
his accompanying them in their return.

“Ye hae broken truce already,” said old Dick of the
Dingle; “an we takna the better care, yell play mair

7
1

gowk’s tricks, and make yoursell the laughing-stock of
the haill country, besides having your friends charged
with slaughter under trust. Bide till the meeting at
Castleton, as ye hae greed; and if he disna make ye
amends, then we'll hae it out o’ his heart's blood. But
yet us gang reasonably to wark and keep our tryst, and

9)

of Ne 2 € 4 < TO € 1? oa
V’se warrant we get back Grace, and the kye an’ a‘5
a
if

 

ree

 

106 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

This cold-blooded reasoning went ill down with the
unfortunate lover; but, as he could only obtain the
assistance of his neighbours and kinsmen on their own
terms, he was compelled to acquiesce in their notions of

good faith and regular procedure.

Earnscliff now requested the assistance of a few of the
party to convey Miss Vere to her father’s castle of Ellies-
law, to which she was peremptory in desiring to be
conducted. ‘This was readily granted; and five or six
young men agreed to attend him as an escort. Hobbie
was not of the number. Almost heart-broken by the
events of the day, and his final disappoimtment, he returned
moodily home to take such measures as he could for the
sustenance and protection of his family, and to arrange
with his neighbours the farther steps which should be
adopted for the recovery of Grace Armstrong. The
rest of the party dispersed in different directions, as soon
as they had crossed the morass. ‘The outlaw and his
mother watched them from the tower until they entirely
disappeared.¥HE BLACK DWARF.

CHATTER X.

I left my ladye’s bower last night—
It was clad in wreaths of snaw,—
Ill seek it when the sun is bright,
And sweet the roses blaw.

OLD BALLAD

INCENSED at what he deemed the coldness of his
friends, in a cause which interested him so nearly, Hobbie
had shaken himself free of their company, and was now
on his solitary road homeward. “The fiend founder
thee!” said he, as he spurred impatiently his over-
fatigued and stumbling horse; “thou art like a’ the rest
o them. Hae I not bred thee, and fed thee, and dressed
chee wi’ mine ain hand, and wouldst thou snapper now
and break my neck at my utmost need? But thou’rt e’en
like the lave

 

the farthest off o’ them a’ is my cousin
ten times removed, and day or night I wad hae served
them wi’ my best blood; and now, I think they shew
mair regard to the common thief of Westburnflat than
to their ain kinsman. But I should see the lights now in
Heugh-foot— Wae’s me!” he continued, recollecting him-
self, “there will neither coal nor candle-light shine in the
Heugh-foot ony mair! An it werena for my mother and
sisters, and poor Grace, I could find in my heart to set
spurs to the beast, and loup ower the scaur into the water
to make an end o’t a’.”—In this disconsolate mood he168 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

turned his horse’s bridle towards the cottage in which his
family liad found refuge.

As he approached the door, he heard whispering and
tittering amongst his sisters. ‘“ The deevil’s in the
women,” said poor Hobbie; “ they would nicker, and
iaugh, and giggle, if their best friend was lying a corp—

and yet I am glad they can keep up their hearts sae weel,
poor silly things ; but the dirdum fa’s on me, to be sure,

x

and no on them.”

While he thus meditated, he was engaged in fastening
up his horse in a shed. “Thou maun do without horse-
sheet and surcingle now, lad,’ he said, addressing the
animal; “you and me hae had a downcome alike; we
had better hae fa’en in the deepest pool o’ Tarras.”

He'was interrupted by the youngest of his sisters, who
came running out, and speaking in a constrained voice,
as if to stifle some emotion, called out to him, “ What
are ye doing there, Hobbie, fiddling about the naig, and
there’s ane frae Cumberland been waiting here for you
this hour and mair? Haste ye in, man; [ll take off the
saddle.”

“ Ane frae Cumberland!” exclaimed Elliot ; and put-
ting the bridle of his horse into the hand of his sister, he
rushed into the cottage. “ Where is he! ? where is he?”
he exclaimed, glancing eagerly around, and seeing only

vmales; “ Did he bring news of Grace ae

“He doughtna bide an instant langer,” said the elder
sister, still with a suppressed laugh.

“ Hout fie, bairns!” said the old lady, with something
of a good-humoured reproof, eye shouldna vex your
billy Hobbie that way.—Look round, my bairn, and

see if there isna ane here mair than ye left this morn

ing.THE BLACK DWARF. 109 -

Hobbie looked eagerly round. “'There’s you, and the
three titties.”

“ There’s four of us now, Hobbie, lad,” said the young:
est, who at this moment entered.

“Jn an instant Hobbie had in his arms Grace Ara-
strong, who, with one of his sister's plaids around her,
bad passed unnoticed at his first entrance. “ How dared
you do this?” said Hobbie.

“Tt wasna my fault,” said Grace, endeavouring to cover
her face with her hands to hide at once her blushes, and
escape the storm of hearty kisses with which her bride-
groom punished her simple stratagem,—" It wasna my
fault, Hobbie; ye should kiss Jeanie and the rest o’ them,
for they hae the wyte o’t.”

“ And so I will,” said Hobbie, and embraced and kissed
his sisters and grandmother a hundred times, while the
whole party half-laughed, half-cried, in the extremity of
their joy. ‘I am the happiest man,” said Hobbie, throw-
ing himself down on a seat almost exhausted,—‘ I am
the happiest man in the world!”

“Then, O my dear bairn,” said the good old dame, who
lost no opportunity of teaching her lessons of religion at

heart was best open to receive

ive praise to Him that brings

those moments when the

: coe 5 ek ae
it, —‘ Then, O my son, g
smiles out o’ tears and joy out o’ grief, as He brought
and the world out o’ naething. Was

it not my word, that if ye could say His will be done, ye

might hae cause to say His name be praised Res
and I do praise

light out 0’ darkness,

“Tt was—it was your word, grannie ;
Him for His mercy, and for leaving me a good parent
gane,” said honest Hobbie, taking her

ik of Him, baith in

when my ain were
hand, “that puts me in mind to thi

happiness and distress.”cnn wee
PUN ir mat an iy ace

Or nana:

110 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

There was a solemn pause of one or two minutes
employed in the exercise of mental devotion, which
expressed, in purity and sincerity, the gratitude of the
affectionate family to that Providence who had unexpect-
edly restored to their embraces the friend whom they had
lost.

Hobbie’s first inquiries were concerning the adventures
which Grace had undergone. They were told at length,
but amounted in substance to this :—That she was
awaked by the noise which the ruffians made in break-
ing into the house, and by the resistance made by one or
two of the servants, which was soon overpowered; that,
dressing herself hastily, she ran down stairs, and having

seen, in the scuffle, Westburnflat’s vizard drop off, im-

prudently named him by his name, and besought him for
mercy; that the ruffian instantly stopped her mouth,
dragged her from the house, and placed her on horseback,
behind one of his associates.

“Tl break the accursed neck of him,” said Hobbie, “if
there werena another Graeme in the land but himsel] !”

She proceeded to say, that she was-earried southward
along with the party, and the spoil which they drove be-
fore them, until they had crossed the Border. Suddenly a
person, known to her as a kinsman of Westburnflat. came
riding very fast after the marauders, and told their leader,
that his cousin had learnt from a sure hand that no luck
would come of it, unless the lass was restored to her
friends. After some discussion, the chief of the party
seemed to acquiesce. Grace was placed behind her new
guardian, who pursued in silence, and with great speed,
ihe least frequented path to the Heugh-foot, and ere
evening closed, set down the fatigued and terrified damsel
within a quarter of a mile of the dwelling of her friends.THE BLACK DWARF. 1h

Many and sincere were the congratulations which passed
pn all sides.

As these emotions subsided, tess pleasing considerations
began to intrude themselves.

“This is a miserable place for ye a,” said Hobbie,
looking around him; “I can: sleep weel eneugh mysell
outby beside the naig, as I hae done mony a lang night
on the hills; but how ye are to put yoursells up, I canna
see! And what’s waur, I canna mend it; and what’s
waur than a’, the morn may come, and the day after that,
without your being a bit better off.”

“Tt was a cowardly cruel thing,” said one of the
sisters, looking round, “to harry a puir family to the bare
wa’s this gate.”

“ And leave us neither stirk nor stot,” said the youngest
brother, who now entered, “nor sheep nor lamb, nor
aught that eats grass and corn.”

“Tf they had ony quarrel wi us,” said Harry, the
second brother, “were we na ready to have fought it out?
And that we should have been a’ frae hame, too,—ane
and a’ upon the hill—QOdd, an we had been at hame, Will
Greme’s stamach shouldna hae wanted its morning; but
it’s biding him, is it na, Hobbie ee

“Our neighbours hae taen a day at the Castleton to
gree wi’ him at the sight o’ men,” said Hobbie, mourn-
fully ; “they behoved to have it a’ their ain gate, or there
was nae help to be got at their hands.”

“To gree wi him!” exclaimed both “his brothers at
once, “after siccan an act of stouthrife as hasna been
heard o’ in the country since the auld riding days!”

“ Very true, billies, and my blood was e’en boiling at
- the sight o’ Grace Armstrong has settled if

 

it; but
brawly.”at Magee RP ete *

 

112 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

“ But the stocking, Hobbie?” said John Elhot ; “ we’re
utterly ruined. Harry and I hae been to gather what
was on the outby land, and there’s scarce a cloot left. I
kenna how we're to carry on—We maun a’ gang to the
wars, I chink. Westburnflat hasna the means, e’en if he
had the will, to make up our loss; there’s nae mends ta
be got out o’ him, but what ye take out o’ his banes. He
has na a four-footed creature but the vicious blood thing
he rides on, and that’s -sair ee wi’ his night wark.
We are ruined stoop and roop.”

Hobbie cast a mournful glance on Grace Armstrong,
who returned it with a downcast look and a gentle sigh.

“Dinna be cast down, bairns,” said the grandmother,
“we hae gude friends that winna forsake us in adversity.
Dhere’s Sir Thomas Kittleloof is my third cousin by the
mother’s side, and he has come by a hantle siller, and
been made a knight-baronet into the bargain, for being
ane o the commissioners at the Union.”

“He wadna gie a bodle to save us frae famishing,”
said Hobbie: “and, if he did, the bread that I bought
wit would stick in my throat, when I thought it was
part of the price of puir auld Scotland’s crown and in-
dependence.”

“There’s the Laird 0’ Dunder, ane o’ the auldest fami-
lies in Tiviotdale.

* He’s\in the tolbooth, mother—he’s in the Heart of
Mid-Louden for a thousand merk he borrowed from
Saunders Wyliecoat the writer.”

e Poor man ! ” exclaimed Mrs. Elliot, "can we no
a him something, Hobbie ? ”

Be ; rannia ve fara xy TQ ; ]
‘ Ye forget, eran » ye tlorget we want help oursells,”
said He hie somewhat peevishly.

“Troth did I, hinny,”

eae NN ae J ee 4 : 7} 7
replied the good-natured ladyTHE BLACK DWARF. 1138

“just at the instant; it’s sae natural to think on ane’s

 

blude relations before themsells.
Earnsclift.”

6 Ty AQ AT . s+ ? 1a ; 1
“ He has ower little o’ his ain; and siccan a name to

But there’s young

keep up, it wad be a shame,” said Hobbie, “to burder
him wi’ our distress. And I'll tell ye, grannie, it’s need-
less to sit rhyming ower the style of a your kith, kin,
and allies, as if there was a charm in their braw names
to do us good; the grandees hae forgotten us, and those
of our ain degree hae just little eneugh to gang on wi
themsells; ne’er a friend hae we that can, or will, help
us to stock the farm again.”

“Then, Hobbie, we maun trust in Him that can raise
up friends and fortune out 0’ the bare moor, as they say.”

Hobbie sprung upon his feet. “ Ye are right, grannie!”
he exclaimed ; “ye are right. Ido ken a friend on the
bare moor, that baith can and will help us—The turns o’
this day hae dung my head clean hirdie-girdie. I left as
muckle gowd lying on Mucklestane-Moor this morning as
would plenish the house and stock the Heugh-foot twice
ower, and I am certain sure Elshie wadna grudge us the
use of it.”

«“ Elshie!” said his grandmother in astonishment ;
“what Elshie do you mean ?”

“ What Elshie should I mean, but canny Elshie, the
Wight o’ Mucklestane ¢” replied Hobbie.

“ God forfend, my bairn, you should gang to fetch
water out 0’ broken cisterns, or seek for relief frae them
that deal wi’ the Evil One! ‘There was never luck in
their gifts, mor grace in their paths. And the hail
country kens that body Elshie’s an unco man. Oy
there was the law, and the douce quiet administration of
justice, that makes a kingdom flourish in righteousness.

VOL. XI. g&

°

rammiimeilas

  

WAVERLEY NOVELS.

 

114
the like o’ them suldna be suffered to live! The wizard
and the ee are the abomination and the evil thing in
che land.

“Troth, mother,” answered Hobbie, “ye may say
1

hat witches and

U.
©

what ye like, but I am in the mind t
warlocks havena half the power they had inde syne; at
least, sure am I, that ae ill-deviser, like auld Ellieslaw, or
ae ill-doer, like that d—d villain Westburnflat, 1s a
greater plague and abomination in a country-side than a
haill curnie o’ the warst witches that ever capered on a
broom-stick, or played cantrips on Fastern’s E’en. It
wad hae been lang or Elshie had burnt down my house
and barns, and I am determined. to try if he will do aught
to build them up again. He’s weel kend a skilfu’ man
ower a’ the country, as far as Brough under Stanmore.’

“ Bide a wee, my bairn; mind his benefits havena
thriven wi’ a’ body. Jock Howden died o’ the very same
disorder Elshie pretended to cure him of, about the fa’ o
the leaf; and though he helped ae mbside’s cow weel out
o the moor-ill, yet the louping-ill’s n sairer amang his
sheep than ony season before. ee then I have heard
he uses sic words abusing human nature, that’s like a
leeing in the face of Providence ; and ye mind ye said
ee the first time ye ever saw him, that he was

+
4
i

aair like a bogle than a liy

“ Hout, mother,” said Hobbie, “ Elshie’s no thar bad a
chield ; he’s a grewsome spectacle for a crooked disciple,
to be sure, and a rough talker, but his bark is waur than
his bite ; sae, if I had anes something to eat, for I havena
had a morsel ower my throat this day, I wad’ streck my
sell down for twa or three hours aside the beast, and be
vn and awa to Mucklestane wi the first skreigh ©

>

wo rning.’THE BLACK DWARF. 115

“And what for no the night, Hobbie,” said Harry,

“and I will ride wi’ ye?”

“My naig-is tired,” said Hobbie.

“cy

Ye may take mine then,” said John.

“ But I am a wee thing wearied mysell.”

“You wearied?” said Harry; “shame on ye! I have
Kend ye keep the saddle four-and-twenty hours thegither,
and ne’er sic a word as weariness in your wame.”

“The night’s very dark,” said Hobbie, rising and look-
ing through the casement of the cottage; “and, to speak
truth, and shame the deil, though Elshie’s a real honest
tallow, yet somegate I would rather take day-light-wi’ me

when I gang to visit him.”

This frank avowal put a stop to farther argument ; and

Hobbie, having thus compromised matters between the

rashness of his brother’s counsel, and the timid cautions

which he received from his grandmother, refreshed him-

self with such food as the cottage afforded ; and,‘after a
o 5

cordial salutation all round, retired to the shed, and

stretched himself beside his trusty palfrey.

His brothers

shared between them some trusses of clean straw, dis-

posed in the stall usually occupied by old Annaple’s cow;

and the females arranged themselves for repose as well

as the accommodations of the cottage would permit.

With the first dawn of morning, Hobbie arose; and,

having rubbed down and saddled his horse, he set forth

to Mucklestane-Moor.

He avoided the company of

either of his brothers, from an idea that the Dwarf was

most propitious to those who visited him alone.

“ The creature,” said he to himself, as he went along,

“is no neighbourly ; ae body at a time is fully mair than

be weel can abide.

I wonder
erib o’ him to gather up the bag o’ siller.

if he’s looked out o’ the
If he hasna“eemtne

i
i
F

116 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

done that, it will hae been a braw windfa’ for somebody,
and Ill be finely flung. Come, Tarras,” said he to his
horse, striking him at the same time with his spur, “make
mair fit, man; we maun be first on the field if we can.”

He was now on the heath, which began to be illumi-
nated by the beams of the rising sun ; the gentle declivity
which he was descending presented him a distinct, though
distant view of the Dwarf’s dwelling. The door opened,
and Hobbie witnessed with his own eyes that phenom
enon which he had frequently heard mentioned. Two
human figures, (if that of the Dwarf could be termed
such) issued from the solitary abode of the Recluse, and
stood as if in converse together in the open air. The
taller form then stooped, as if taking something up which
lay beside the door of the hut, then both moved forward
a little way, and again halted, as in deep conference. All
Hobbie’s superstitious terrors revived on witnessing this
spectacle. ‘That the Dwarf would open his dwelling to a
mortal guest, was as improbable as that any one would
choose voluntarily to be his nocturnal visitor ; and, under
full conviction that he beheld a wizard holding intercourse
with his familiar spirit, Hobbie pulled in at once his
breath and his bridle, resolved not to incur the indigna-
tion of either by a hasty intrusion on their conference.
They were probably aware of his approach, for he had
not halted for a moment before the Dwarf returned to
his cottage; and the taller figure who had accompanied
mim, glided round the enclosure of the garden, and
seemed to disappear from the eyes of the admiring
Hobbie.

“Saw ever mortal the like o’ that!” said Elliot “bit
my case is desperate, sae, if he were Beelzebub himsell
’se venture down the brae on him.”THE BLACK I WARF. 117

Yet, notwithstanding his assumed courage, he slackened
his pace, when, nearly upon the very spot where he had
last seen the tall figure, he discerned, as if lurking among
the long heather, a small black rough-looking object, like
a terrier dog.

“He has nae dog that ever I heard of,” said Hobbie,
“but mony a deil about his hand—Lord forgie me for
saying sic a word !—It keeps its grund, be what it like—-
I’m judging it’s a badger; but whae kens what shapes
thae bogles will take to fright a body ? it will maybe start
up like a lion or a crocodile when I come nearer. T’se
een drive a stane at it, for if it change its shape when I’m
ower near, Tarras will never stand it; and it will be ower
muckle to hae him and the deil to fight wi’ baith at ance.”

He therefore cautiously threw a stone at the object,
which continued motionless. “It’s nae living thing, after
a,” said Hobbie, approaching, “but the very bag o’ siller
he flung out o’ the window yesterday! and that other
queer lang creature has just brought it sae muckle farther
on the way to me.” He then advanced and lifted the
heavy fur pouch, which Was quite full of gold. “ Merey

onus?

said Hobbie, whose heart fluttered between glee
at the revival of his hopes and prospects in life, and sus-
picion of the purpose for which this assistance was afforded
him. “Mercy on us! it’s an awfu’ thing to touch what
has been sae lately in the claws of something no canny.
IT canna shake mysell loose o’ the belief that there has
been some jookery paukery of Satan’s in a’ this; but ]
am determined to conduct mysell like an honest man and
a good Christian, come o’t what will.” :
He advanced accordingly to the cottage door, and hav-
ing knocked repeatedly without receiving any anew he
at length elevated his voice and addressed the inmate of118 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

the hut. “Elshie! Father Elshie! J ken ye’re within
doors, and wauking, for I saw ye at the door-cheek as I
cam ower the bent; will ye come out and speak just a
eliff to ane that has mony thanks to gie ye ?—It was a’
true ye tell’d me about Westburnfiat ; ‘but he’s sent back
Grace safe and skaithless, sae there’s nae ill happened yet
but what may be suffered or sustained. Wad ye but come
out a gliff, man, or but say ye’re listening? Aweel, since
ye winna answer, I’se e’en proceed wi’ my tale. Ye see
I hae been thinking it wad be a sair thing on twa young.
folk, like Grace and me, to put aff our marriage for mony
years till I was abroad and came back again wi’ some
gear; and they say folk maunna take booty in the wars as
they did lang syne, and the queen’s pay is a sma’ mat-
ter; there’s nae gathering gear on that—and then my

 

oerandame’s auld—and my sisters wad sit peengin’ at the

                

ingle-side for want o’ me to ding them about
cliff, or the neighbourhood, or maybe your ain sell, Elshie,
might want some good turn that Hob Elliot could do ye—

and it’s a pity that the auld house o’ the Heuch-foor

 

should be wrecked a’thegither.* Sae I was thinking
but deil hae me, that I should say sae,” continued he,
checking himself, “if I can bring mysell to ask a favour
of ane that winna sae muckle as ware a word or me, to
tell me if he hears me speaking till him.”

“Say what thou wilt—do what thou w ilt,’ answered
the Dwarf from his cabin, “ but begone, and leave me at
peace.”

“ Weel, weel,” replied Elliot, “since ye are willing te
hear me, I’se make my tale short. Since ye are sae kind
us fo say ye are content to lend me as muckle siller as
will stock and plenish the Heugh-foot, I am corftent, on

my part, to accept the courtesy wi’ mony kind thanks;THE BLACK DWARF. 119

pnd troth, I think it will be as safe in my hands as yours,
If ye leave it flung about in that gate for the first loon
body to lift, forbye the risk 0’ bad neighbours that can win
through steekit doors and lockfast places, as I can tell
my cost. I say, since ye hae sae muckle. consideration
for me, [’se be blithe to accept your kindness; and my
mother and me (she’s a liferenter, and I am fiar, 0’ the
lands o’ Wideopen) would grant you a wadset, or an
heritable bond, for the siller, and to pay the annual-rent
half-yearly ; and Saunders Wyliecoat to draw the bond,
and you to be at nae charge wi’ the writings.”

“Cut short thy jargon, and begone,” said the Dwarf;
“thy loquacious bull-headed honesty makes thee a more
intolerable plague than the light-fingered courtier who
would take a man’s all without troubling him with either
thanks, explanation, or apology. Hence, I say, thou art
one of those tame slaves whose word is as good as their
bond. Keep the money, principal and interest, until I
demand it of thee.”

“ But,” continued the pertinacious Borderer, “we are
a’ life-like and death-like, Elshie, and there really should
be some black and white on this transaction. Sae just
make me a minute, or missive, in ony form ye like, and
se write it fair ower, and subscribe it before famous
witnesses. Only, Elshie, I wad wuss ye to pit naething
in’t that may be prejudicial to my salvation; for IJ’ll hae
the minister to read it ower, and it wad only be exposing
yoursell to nae purpose. And now I’m ganging awa, for
ye’ll be wearied o’ my cracks, and I am wearied wi’ crack-
ing without an answer—and I’se bring ye a bit o’ bride’s-
cake ane o’ thae days, and maybe bring Grace to see you.
Ye wad like to see Grace, man, for as dour as ye are—
th, Lord! I wish he may be weel, that was a sair grane{20 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

or, maybe he thought I was speaking of heavealy grace,
and no of Grace Armstrong. Poor man, I am very
doubtfu’ o’ his condition ; but T am sure he is as kind to
me as if I were his son, and a queer-looking father I wad
hae had, if that had been e’en sae.”

Hobbie now relieved his benefactor of his presence,
and rode blithely home to display his treasure, and con-

sult upon the means of repairing the damage which his

fortune had sustained through the aggression of the Red
Reiver cf Westburnflat.FHE BLACK DWARF.

CHAPTER XI

Three ruffians seized me yester morn,

Alas! a maiden most forlorn;

They choked my cries with wicked might,

And bound me on a palfrey white:

As sure as Heaven shall pity me,

I cannot tell what men they be.
CHRISTABELLE.

Tx course of our story must here revert a little, to
detail the circumstances which had placed Miss Vere in
the unpleasant situation from which she was unexpectedly,
and indeed unintentionally liberated, by the appearance
of Earnscliff and Elliot, with their friends and followers,
before the Tower of Westburnflat. .

On the morning preceding the night in which Hobbie’s
house was plundered and burnt, Miss Vere was requested
by her father to accompany him in a walk through a dis-
tant part of the romantic grounds which lay round his
castle of Ellieslaw. “To hear was to obey,” in the true
style of Oriental despotism; but Isabella trembled in
silence while she followed her father through rough paths,
now winding by the side of the river, now ascending the
cliffs which serve for its banks. A single servant, selected
perhaps for his stupidity, was the only person who attended
‘hem. From her father’s silence, Isabella little doubted
that he had chosen this distant and sequestered scene ta
resume the argument which they had so frequently main:os
Meg Oem

romney
SPs ARAN Et

 

122 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

tained upon the subject of Sir Frederick’s addresses, and
that he was meditating in what manner he should most
effectually impress upon her the necessity of receiving
him as her suitor. But her fears seemed for some time
to be unfounded. ‘The only sentences which her father
from time to time addressed to her, respected the beauties
of the romantic landscape through which they strolled,
and which varied its features at every step. To these
observations, although they seemed to come from a heart
occupied by more gloomy as well as more important cares,
Isabella endeavoured to answer in a manner as free and
unconstrained as it was possible for her to assume, amid
the involuntary apprehensions which crowded upon her
imagination.

Sustaining with mutual difficulty a desultory conversa-
tion, they at length gained the centre of a small wood,
composed of large oaks, intermingled with birches, moun-
tain-ashes, hazel, holly, and a variety of underwood. The
boughs of the tall trees met closely above, and the under-
wood filled up each interval between their trunks below.
The spot on which they stood was rather more open;
still, however, embowered under the natural arcade of
tall trees, and darkened on the sides for a space around
by a great and lively growth of copse-wood and bushes.

«“ And here, Isabella,” said Mr. Vere, as he pursued
the conversation, so often resumed, so often dropped,
“here I would erect an altar to Friendship.”

“To Friendship, sir!” said Miss Vere; “and why
on this gloomy and sequestered spot, rather than else-
where ? ”

“Q, the propriety of the locale is easily vindicated,”
seplied her father, with a sneer. “ You know, Miss
Vere, (for you, I am well :

ee

ware, are a learned youngTHE BLACK DWARF. 123

lady,) you know, that the Romans were not satisfied with
Aw f+. . 2 | ]

embodying, for the purpose of worship, each useful
l

quality and moral virtue to which they could give a

name; but they, moreover, worshipped the same under
each variety of titles and attributes which could give a
distinct shade, or individual character, to the virtue in
question. Now, for example, the Friendship to whom a
‘temple should be here dedicated, is not Masculine Friend-
ship, which abhors and despises duplicity, art, and dis-
guise; but Female Friendship, which consists in little else
than a mutual disposition on the part of the friends, as
they call themselves, to abet each other in obscure fraud
and petty intrigue.”

“ You are severe sir,” said Miss Vere.

“Only just,” said her father; “a humble copier I am
from nature, with the advantage of contemplating two
such excellent studies as Lucy Ilderton and your-
self.”

“Tf I have been unfortunate enough to offend, sir, I
can conscientiously excuse Miss Iderton from being either
my counsellor or confidant.”

“Indeed! how came you, then,” said Mr. Vere, “by
the flippancy of speech, and pertness of argument, by
which you have disgusted Sir Frederick, and given me
of late such deep offence?”

“If my manner has been so unfortunate as to displease
you, sir, it is impossible for me to apologize too deeply,
or too sincerely ; but I cannot confess the same contrition
for having answered Sir Frederick flippantly when he
pressed me rudely. Since he forgot I was a lady, it was
time to show him that I am at least a woman.”

“ Reserve, then, your pertness for those who press you
gn the topic, Isabella,” said her father, coldly ; “for myar ae

 

 

ocean 2

WAVERLEY NOVELS.

part, I am weary of the subject, and will never speak upor
it again.”

“ God bless you, my dear father,” said Isabella, seizing
his reluctant hand; “ there is nothing you can impose on
me, save the task of listening to this man’s persecution,
that I will call, or think, a hardship.”

“ You are very obliging, Miss Vere, when it happens .
to suit you to be dutiful,” said her unrelenting father, ,
forcing himself at the same: time from the affectionate
grasp of her hand, ‘“‘but henceforward, child, I shall
save myself the trouble of offering you unpleasant advice
on any topic. You must look to yourself.”

At this moment four ruffians rushed upon them. Mr.
Vere and his servant drew their hangers, which it was
the fashion of the time to wear, and attempted to defend
themselves and protect Isabella. But while each of them
was engaged by an antagonist, she was forced into the
thicket by the two remaining villains, who placed her and
themselves on horses which stood ready behind the copse-
wood. ‘They mounted at the same time, and, placing her
between them, set off at a round gallop, holding the reins
of her horse on each side. By many an obscure and
Winding path, over dale and down, through moss and
moor, she was conveyed to the Tower of Westburnflat,
where she remained strictly watched, but not: otherwise
ill-treated, under the guardianship of the old woman, to
whose son that retreat belonged.—No entreaties could
prevail upon the hag to give Miss Vere any information
on the object of her being carried forcibly off, and con-
fined in this secluded place. The arrival of Earnscliff,
with a strong party of horsemen, before the tower,
alarmed the robber. As he had already directed Grace
Arms‘rong to be restored to her friends, it did not occurTHE BLACK DWARE. 123

lo him that this unwelcome visit was on her aecount; and
peeing at the head of the party, Earnscliff, whose attach-
ment to Miss Vere was whispered in the country, he
doubted not that her liberation was the sole object of the
attack upon his fastness. ‘The dread of personal conse-
quences compelled him to deliver up his prisoner in the
manner we have already related.

At the moment the tramp of horses was heard which
carried off the-daughter of Ellieslaw, her father fell to
the earth, and his servant, a stout young fellow, who was
gaining ground on the ruffian with whom he had been
engaged, left the combat to come to his master’s assist-
ance, little doubting that he had received a mortal wound.
Both the villains immediately desisted from fartber com-
bat, and, retreating into the thicket, mounted their horses,
and went off at full speed after their companions. Mean-
time, Dixon had the satisfaction to find Mr. Vere not only
alive, but unwounded. He had overreached himself, and
stumbled, it seemed, over the root of a tree, in making
too eager a blow at his antagonist. The despair he felt
at his daughter’s disappearance, was, in Dixon’s phrase
such as would have melted the heart of a whin stane, and
he was so much exhausted by his feelings, and the vain
researches which he made to discover the track of the
ravishers, that a considerable time elapsed ere he reached
home, and communicated the alarm to his domestics.

All his conduct and gestures were those of a desperate
man.

“ Speak not to me, Sir Frederick,” he said impatiently
“vou are no father—she was my child, an ungrateful one

i fear, but still my child—my only child. Where is

Ais s Ilderton? she must know something of this. It

rorresponds with what I was informed of her schemes.e% SMTP eur
:

“aie Rta

mre

oT |

126 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

Go, Dixon, call Ratcliffe here-—Let him come without a
minute’s delay.”
The person he had named at this moment entered the

room.

“T say, Dixon,” continued Mr. Vere, in an altered
tone, “let Mr. Ratcliffe know, I beg the favour of his
company on particular business—Ah! my dear sir,” he
proceeded, as if noticing him for the first time, “you are
the very man whose advice can be of the utmost service
to me in this cruel extremity.”

“ What has happened, Mr. Vere, to discompose you?”

said Mr. Ratcliffe, gravely; and while the Laird of

Ellieslaw details to him, with the most animated gestures
of grief and indignation, the singular adventure of the
morning, we shall take the opportunity to inform our
readers of the relative circumstances in which these
gentlemen stood to each other.

In early youth, Mr. Vere of Ellieslaw had been re-
markable for a career of dissipation, which, in advanced
life, he had ex <changed for the no less destructive career
of dark and turbulent ambition. In both cases he ] ad
gratified the predominant passion without respect to the
diminution of his private fortune , although, where such
inducements were wantir g, he was deemed close, avari-
cious, and grasping. His ‘airs being much embarrassed
by his earlier extravagance, he went to Ex ngland, where
he was understood to have formed a very advantageous
matrimonial connexion. He was many years absent from
his family estate. Suddenly and er y he re-
turned a widower, bringing with him his daughter, then a
girl of about ten years old. From this moment a ex-
pense seemed unbounded, in the eyes of the simple
inhabitants of his native mountains It was supposedTHE BLACK DWARF.

he must necessarily have plunged himself deeply in debt.
Yet he continued to live in the same lavish expense,
until some months before the commencement of our
warrative, when the public opinion of his embarrassed
circumstances was confirmed, by the residence of Mr.
Ratcliffe at Ellieslaw Castle, who, by Hl the tacit consent,
though obviously to the great displeasure, of the lord of
the mansion, seemed, from the moment of his arrival, to
assume and exercise a predominant and unaccountable
influence in the management of his private affairs.

Mr. Ratcliffe was a grave, steady, reserved man, in an
advanced period of life. To those with whom he had
yecasion to speak upon business, he appeared uncom-
monly well versed in all its forms. With others he held
little communication ; but in any casual intercourse or
conversation, displayed the powers of an active and well-
infoffmed mind. For some time before taking up his
final residence at the castle, he had been an occasional
visitor there, and was at such times treated by Mr. Vere
(contrary to his general practice towards those who were
inferior to him in rank) with marked attention, and even
deference. Yet his arrival always appeared to be an
embarrassment to his host, and his departure a relief ; so
that, when he became a constant inmate of the family, it

as impossible not to observe indications of the dis-
pleasure with which Mr. Vere regarded his presence.
Indeed, their intercourse toned a singular mixture of
eonfidence and constraint. Mr. Vere’s most important
affairs were regulated by , Mr. Ratcliffe; and although he
was none of those indulgent men of fortune, who, too
indolent to manage their own business, are glad to de-
volve it upon another, yet, in many instances, he was
_bserved tc give up his cwn judgment, and submit to theOER 9-0 4
sa OS gaming ee ’

CE at es

fri

a

Se. Dire %

NSM RE cs

WAVERLEY NOVELS.

contrary opinions which Mr. Ratcliffe did not hesitate
distinctly to express.

Nothing seemed to vex Mr. Vere
strangers indicated any observation of the state of tutelage
When it was naticed

more than when

under which he appeared to labour.
by Sir Frederick, or any of his intimates, he sometimes
repelled their remarks haughtily and indignantly, and
sometimes endeavoured to evade them, by saying, with a
forced laugh, “That Ratcliffe knew his own importance,
but that he was the most honest and skilful fellow in the
world; and that it would be impossible for him to manage
his English affairs without his advice and assistance.”

Such was the person who entered the room at the mo-
ment Mr. Vere was summoning him to his presence, and
who now heard with surprise, aimee with obvious incre-
dulity, the hasty narrative of what had befallen Isabe ella.

Her father concluded, addressing Sir Frederick and
the other gentlemen, who stood around in astonishment,
* And now, my friends, you see the most unhappy father
in Scotland. Lend me your assistance, eentlemen—give
me your advice, Mr. Ratcliffe I am incapable of acting,

r thinking, under the unexpected violence of such a
blow: a

“ Let us take our horses, call our attendants, and scour
the country in pursuit of fl ae villains,” said Sir Frederick,

“Ts there no one whom you can suspect,” said Rat
cliffe, gravely, “of having some motive for’ this strange
esime? These are not the days of romance, when ladies
are carried off merely for their beauty.”

“Tl fear,” said Mr. Vere, “I can too well account for
this strange incident. Read this letter, whict Miss Lucy
Iderton thought fit to address from my house of Ellies-
law to young Mr. Earnscliff, whom, of all men, I have aTHE BLACK DWARF. 129

nereditary right to call my enemy. You see she writes
to him as the confidant of a passion whih he has the
assurance to entertain for my daughter; tells him she
serves his cause with her friend very ardently, but, that

he has a friend in the garrison who serves him yet more

effectually. Look particularly at the pencilled passages,
Mr. Ratcliffe, where this m2ddling girl recommends bold
measures, with an assurarce that his suit would be suc-
eessful anywhere beyond the bounds of the barony of
Ellieslaw.”

« And you argue, from this romantic letter of a very
romantic young lady, Mr. Vere,” said Ratcliffe, “ that
young Earnscliff has carried off your daughter, and com-
mitted a very great and criminal act of violence, on no
better advice and assurance than that of Miss Lucy
Ilderton ?”

“ What else can I think ?” said Elleslaw.

“ What else can you think: » said Sir Frederick; “or
who else could have any motive for committing such a
crime?”

“Were that the best mode of fixing the guilt,” said
Mr. Ratcliffe, calmly, “there might easily be pointed out
persons to whom such actions are more congenial, and
who have also sufficient motives of instigation. Sup-
judged advisable to remove Miss Vere to

posing it were ,
hich constraint might be exercised upon

some place in w
her inclinations to a degree which cannot at present be
attempted under the roof of Ellieslaw Castle—What says
Sir Frederick Langley to that supposition ?”

returned Sir Frederick, “that although Mr.
‘oose to endure in Mr. Ratcliffe freedoms
stent with his situation in life, I will nos

9

RAY;
Vere may cl
totally inconsi

VOL. XI.re OMB D8

ar a
amps me

SRA ei

“Ra

ee

   
  
   
   
   
  
 
  
 
  
  
  
    
   
   
 
    
   
   
   
  
  
     
    
   

130 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

permit such license of innuendo, by word or look, to be
extended to me, with impunity.”

“And I say,” said young Mareschal of Mareschal-
Wells, who was also a guest at the castle, “that you are
all stark-mad to be standing wrangling here, instead of
eins. in pursuit of the ruffians.”

“T have ordered off the domestics already in the track
most likely to overtake them,” said Mr. Vere; “if you
will favour me with your company, we will follow them,
and assist in the search.”

The efforts of the party were totally unsuccessful,
probably because Elheslaw directed the pursuit to pro-
ceed in the direction of Karnscliff-tower, under the sup-
position that the owner would prove to be the author of
the violence, so that they followed in a direction diamet-
rically opposite to that in which the ruffians had actually
sae In the evening they returned, harassed, and
out of spirits. But other guests had, in the meanwhile,

rrived a the castle ; and, after the recent loss sustained
. the owner had been related, wondered at, and lamented,
the recollection of it was, for the present, drowned in the
discussion of deep political intrigues, of mck the crisis
and explosion were momentarily looked f

Several of the gentlemen who took Le in this divan
were Catholics, and all of them stanch Jacobites, whose
hopes were at present at the highest pitch, as an invasion.
in favor of the Pretender, was daily expected from

France, which Scotland, between the defenceless state of
its garrisons and fortified places, and the general disaf-
fection of the inhabitants, was rather prepared to wel-
come than to resist. ine who neither sought to
assist at their consultations on this subject, nor was

invited to do so, had, in the meanwhile, retired to his

?THE BLACK DWARE. 131

wn apartment. Miss Ilderton was sequestered from
society in a sort of honourable confinement, “ until,” said
Mr. Vere, “she should be safely conveyed home to her
father’s house,” an opportunity for which occurred. on the
following day.

The domestics could not help thinking it remarkable
how soon the loss of Miss Vere, and the strange manner
in which it had happened, seemed to be forgotten by the
other guests at the castle. They knew not, that those
the most interested in her fate were well acquainted with
the cause of her being carried off, and the place of her
retreat ; and that the others, in the anxious and doubtful
moments which preceded the breaking forth of a con-
spiracy, were little accessible to any feelings but what
arose immediately out of their own machinations.SAAB tapi,

Rens

WAVERLEY NOVELS

CHAPTER XII.

Some one way, some another—Do you know
Where we may apprehend her?

Tuer researches after Miss Vere were (for the sake of
appearances, perhaps) resumed on the succeeding day,
with similar bad success, and the party were returning
towards Ellieslaw in the evening.

“Tt is singular, said Mareschal to Ratcliffe, “that four
horsemen and a female prisoner should have passed
through the country without leaving the slightest trace of
their passage. One would think they had traversed the
air, or sunk through the ground.” 7

“Men may often,” answered Ratcliffe, “arrive at the
knowledge of that which 7s, from discovering that which
is mot. We have now scoured every road, path, and track
leading from the castle, in all the various points of the
compass, saving only that intricate and difficult pass
which leads southward down the Westburn, and through
the morasses.”

‘And why have we not examined that?” said Mare-
schal.

“Oh, Mr. Vere can best answer that question,” replied
his companion, dryly.

“Then I will ask it instantly,” said Mareschal; and,
addressing Mr. Vere, “I am informed, sir,” said he,THE BLACK DWARBF. 133

“there is a path we have not exainined, leading by West-
burnflat.”

Oh,” said Sir Frederick, laughing, “we know the
owner of Westburnflat well—a wild lad, that knows little
difference between his neighbour’s goods and his own;
but, withal, very honest to Lis principles: He would dis-
turb nothing belonging to Ellieslaw.”

“ Besides,” said Mr. Vere, smiling mysteriously, “he
had other tow on his distaff last night. Have you not
heard young Elliot of the Heugh-foot has had his house
burnt, and his cattle driven away, because he refused to
give up his arms to some honest men that think of start-
ing for the king ?”

The company smiled upon each other, as at hearing of
an exploit which favoured their own views.

“ Yet, nevertheless,” resumed Mareschal, “I think we
ought to ride in this direction also, otherwise we shall
certainly be blamed for our necligence.”

No reasonable objection could be offered to this propo-
sal, and the party turned their horses’ heads towards
Westburnflat.

They had not proceeded very far in that direction
when the trampling of horses was heard, and a small
body of riders were perceiv ed advancing to meet them.

“There comes Earnscliff,’ said Mareschal; “I know
his bright bay with the star in his front.”

“ And there is my daughter along with him,” exclaimed

Vere, furiously. ‘“ Who shall call my suspicions false or
lend me the assist-

 

injurious now? Gentle men—friends
ance of your swords for the recovery of my child.”

He unsheathed his weapon, and was imitate d by Sir
Wrederick and several of the party, who prepared to

tharge those that were advancing towards them. But

the greater part hesitated.(Pre. IR seg

      
   
    
  
   
     
  
  
 
   
     
   
   
  
       
    
   
   
  
  
   
    
   
 
   
 
   

134 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

“They come to us in all peace and security,” said
Mareschal-Wells; “let us first hear what account they give

Lic
us of this mysterious affair. . If Miss Vere has sustained
the slightest insult or injury from Earnschff, I will be
2
the first to revenge her; but let us hear what they say.”

“ You do me wrong by your ee Mareschal,”
continued Vere ; “you are the last I would have expected
to hear express sheer

“You injure yourself, Ellieslaw, by your violence,
though the cause may excuse it.’

He then advanced a little before the rest, and called
out, with a loud ee “Stand, Mr. Earnscliff; or do
you and Miss Vere advance alone to meet us. You are
charged with having carried that lady off from her father’s
house ; and we are here in arms to shed our best blood

f justice those who

for her recovery, and for bringing to
have injured her.”

“ And who would do that more willingly than I,
Mr. Mareschal?” said Earnscliff, haughtily—* than _I,
who had the satisfaction this morning to liberate her from
the dungeon in which I found her confined, and who am
now escorting her back to the castle of Ellieslaw 2”

“Ts this so, Miss Vere ?” said Mareschal.

“Tt is,” answered Isabella, eagerly,— “it is so; for
Heaven’s sake sheathe your swords. I will swear by all
that is sacred, that I was carried off by ruffians, whose
persons and object were alike unknown to me. and am
how restored to freedom by means of ‘this centleman s
gallant interference.”

“ By whom, and wl herefore, could this have been done ?”

pursued Mareschal* Had you no knowledge of the place

 

to which you were conve yed?
and this lady?”

Karnscliff, where did youTHE BLACK DWARF. 135

But ere either question could be answered, Elleslaw
advanced, and, returning his sword to the scabbard, cut
short the conference.

«“ When I know,” he said, “exactly how much I owe
to Mr. Earnscliff, he may os on suitable acknowledg-
ments; mean time,” taking the bridle of Miss Vere's
horse, “thus far I thank him for replacing my daughter
in the power of her natural guardian.”

A sullen bend of the head was returned by Earnscliff
with equal haughtiness ; and Ellieslaw, turning back with
his daughter upon the road to his own house, appeared
engaged with her in a conference so earnest, that the
rest of the company judged it improper: to intrude by
approaching them too nearly. In the meantime, Karns-
cliff, as he took leave of the other gentlemen, belonging
to Ellieslaw’s party, said aloud,—“ Although I am uncon-
scious of any circumstance in my conduct that can autho-
rize such a suspicion, I cannot ‘but observe, that Mr. Vere
seems to believe that 1 have had some hand in the atrocious
violence which has been offered to his daughter. I request
you, gentlemen, to take notice of my explicit denial of a
charge so dishonourable ; and that, although I can pardon
the bewildering feelings of a father in such a moment,
yet, if any other ge ntleman” (he looked hard at Sir

Frederick Langley) “thinks my w ord and that of Miss

Vere, with the evidence of my friends who accompany
o slight for my exculpation, I will be happy—most

me, to
‘epel the charge as becomes a man who counts

happy
his honour dearer than his life.”
“And I'll be his second,” said Simon of Hackburn,

sentle or semple, laird or

        

9
“and take up ony twa 0 Ye,
loon ; it’s a’ ane to Simon. "2

“ Who is that rough -looking fellow?” said Sir Fred-em

Se See Seber:

 

136 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

erick Langley, “and what has he to do with the quarrels
of gentlemen ?”

“ T’se be a lad frae the Hie Te’iot,” said Simon, “and
I’se quarrel wi’ ony body I like, except the king, or the
laird I live under.”

“ Come,” said Mareschal, “let us have no brawls—
Mr. Earnscliff, although we do not think alike in some
things, I trust we may be opponents, even enemies, if
fortune will have it so, without losing our respect for
birth, fair play, and each other. I believe you as innocent
of this matter as Iam myself; and I will pledge myself
that my cousin Ellieslaw, as soon as the perplexity attend-
ing these sudden events has left his judgment to its free
exercise, shall handsomely acknowledge the very impor-
tant service you have this day rendered him.”

“To have served your cousin is a sufficient reward in
itself—Good evening, gentlemen,” continued Earnscliff,
“JT see most of your party are already on their way to
Klheslaw.”

Then saluting Mareschal with courtesy, and the rest of
the party with indifference, Earnscliff turned his horse
and rode towards the Heugh-foot, to concert measures
with Hobbie Elliot for farther researches after his
bride, of whose restoration to her friends he was still
ignorant.

“There he goes,” said Mareschal; “he is a fine, gallant
young tellow, upon my soul; and yet I should like well
to have a thrust with him on the green turf. I was
reckoned at college nearly his equal with the foils, and T
should like to try him at sharps.”

“In my opinion,” answered Sir Frederick Langley,
“we have done very ill in having suffered him, and those
men who are with him, to go off without taking awayTHE BLACK DWARY. 137

their arms; for the Whigs are very likely to draw to a
head under such a sprightly young fellow as that.”

2

“ For shame, Sir Frederick!” exclaimed Mareschal ;
“do you think that Ellieslaw could, in honour, consent
to any violence being offered to Earnscliff, when he en-
tered his bounds only to bring back his daughter ? or, if
he were to be of your opinion, do you think that I, and
the rest of these gentlemen, would disgrace ourselves by
assisting in.such a transaction? No, no, fair play and
auld Scotland for ever! When the sword is drawn, I
will be as ready to use it as any man; but while it is
in the sheath, let us behave like gentlemen and neigh.
bours.”

Soon after this colloquy they reached the castle, when
Ellieslaw, who had been arrived a few minutes before,
met them in the court-yard.

“ How is Miss Vere? and have you learned the
cause of her being carried off?” asked Mareschal,
hastily.

« She is retired to her apartment greatly fatigued ; and
I cannot expect much light upon her adventure till her
spirits are somewhat recruited,” replied her father. “She
and I were not the less obliged to you, Mareschal, and to
my other friends, for their kind inquiries. But I must
suppress the father’s feelings for a while to give myself
up to those of the patriot. You know this is the day fixed
our friends are ar-

 

for our final decision—time presses
riving, and I have opened house, not only for the gentry,
but for the under spur-leathers whom we must necessa-
rily employ. We have, therefore, little time to prepare
to meet them.—Look over these lists, Marchie, (an abbre-
viation by which Mareschal-Wells was known among his
friends.) Do you, Sir Frederick, read these letters from

 

eeerm
SM Meg

one eens:

m et tate

say

13 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

Uv

Lothian and the west—all is ripe for the sickle, and we
have but to summon out t
“ With all my heart,” said Mareschal; “the more mis«

Li

1
nm
i

LG reapers.”

chief the better sport.”

Sir Frederick looked grave and disconcerted.

ns wa aside with me, my good friend,” said Elhess
law to the sombre baronet; “I have something for
your private ear, with which I know you will be grat-
ified.”

They walked into the house, leaving Ratcliffe and
Mareschal standing together in the court.

“ And so,” said Ratcliffe, “the gentlemen of your polit-
ical persuasion think the downfall of this government so
certain, that they disdain even to throw a decent disguise
over the machinations of their party ? ”

“ Faith,’ Mr. Ratcliffe,’ answered Mareschal, “the
actions and sentiments of your friends may require to be
veiled, but I am better pleased that ours can go bare-
faced.”

‘And is it possible,’ continued Ratcliffe, “ that” you,
who, notwithstanding your thoughtlessness and heat of
temper, (I beg pardon, Mr. Mareschal, I am a plain
man)—that you, who, notwithstanding these constitu-
tional defects, possess natural good-sense and acquired
information, should be infatuated enough to embroil your-
self in such desperate proceedings? How does your head

1.

feel when you are engaged in these dangerous confer-

ences ?” s :

“Not quite so secure on my shoulders,” answered
Mareschal, “as if I were talking of hunting and kawking.
Iam not of so indifferent a mould as my cousin Ellies-
law, who speaks treason as if it were a child’s nursery
rhymes, and loses and recovers that sweet girl, his daugh-

eTHE BLACK DWARE. 138

ter, with a good deal less emotion on both occasions, than
would have affected me had [ lo:it and recovered a grey-
hound puppy. My temper is not quite so inflexible, nor
my hate against government so inveterate, as to blind me
to the full danger of the attempt.” .

“Then why involve yourself in it?” said Ratcliffe.

“ Why, E love this poor exiled king with all my heart ;
and my father was an old Killiecrankie-man, and I long
to see some amends on the Unionist courtiers, that have
bought and sold old Scotland, whose crown has been so
long independent.”

« And for the sake of these shadows,” said his monitor,
“you are going to involve your country in war, and your-
self in trouble ? ”

« TJ involve? No! —but, trouble for trouble, I had
yather it came to-morrow than a month hence. Come, I
know it will; and, as your country folks say, better soon
and as for

 

than syne—it will never find me younger
hanging, as Sir John “alstaff says, I can become a gal-
lows as well as another. You know the end ofthe old
ballad ;
Sae dauntonly, sae wantonly,
Sae rantingly gaed he,
He played a spring, and danced a round,
Beneath the gallows tree.”

“ Mr. Mareschal, I am sorry for you,” said his grave
adviser.

“I am obliged to you, Mr. Ratcliffe; but I would
not have you judge of our enterprise by my way ot
vindicating it; there are wiser heads than mine at the
work.”

“ Wiser heads than yours may lie as low,” said Ratcliffe,
ma warning tone.

*140 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

“ Perhaps so; but no lighter heart shall; and, to pre
vent it being made heavier by your remonstrances, I wil}
bid you adieu, Mr. Ratcliffe, till dimner-time, when you
shall see that my apprehensions have not spoiled my

appetite.”THE BLACK DWARF.

CHAPTER XIII.

To face the garment of rebellion

With some fine colour, that may please the eye
Of fickle changelings, and poor discontents,
Which gape and rub the elbow at the news

Of hurlyburly-innovation.

Henry THE Fourts, Part II.

Turret had been great preparations made at Ellieslaw
Castle for the entertainment on this important day, when
not only the gentlemen of note in the neighbourhood at-
tached to the Jacobite interest, were expected to rendez-
yous, but also-many subordinate malcontents, whom diffi-
culty of circumstances, love of change, resentment against
England, or any of the numerous causes which inflamed
men’s passions at the time, rendered apt to join in peril-
ous enterprise. The men of rank and substance were
not many in number ; for almost all the large proprietors
stood aloof, and most of the smaller gentry and yeomanry
were of the Presbyterian persuasion, and therefore, how-
ever displeased with the Union, unwilling to engage mn 4
Jacobite conspiracy. But there were some gentlemen of
who, either from early principle, from religious

property,
aring the ambitious views of Ellieslaw, had

motives, or sh
countenance to his scheme ; and there were, also,

given
ig men, like Mareschal, desirous of signal-

some fiery youl

wing themselves by engaging 1 4 dangerous enterprise,awe

Sree PUMOE keds tener

ee

eae

 

ed

142 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

by which they hoped to vindicate the independence of
The other members of the party were

their country.
and desperate fortunes, who

persons of inferior rank
were now ready to rise in that part of the country, as
they did afterwards in the year 1715, under Forster and
Derwentwater, when a troop, commanded by a Border
gentleman, né ined Douglas, consisted almost entirely of
freebooters, among whom the notorious Luck-in-a-bag, as
he was called, held a distinguished command. We think
it necessary to mention these particulars, applicable solely
to the province in which our scene lies ; because, unques-
tionably, the Jacobite party in the other parts of the king-
dom, consisted of much more formidable, as well as much
more respectable materials.

One long table extended itself down tbe ample hall of
Ellieslaw Castle, which was still left much in the state in
which it had been one hundred years before, stretching,
that is, in gloomy length, along the whole side of the
castle, vaulted with ribbed arches of freestone, the groins
of which sprung from projecting Poe that, carved into
all the wild forms which the fantastic imagination of a
Gothic architect could devise, Se frowned, and
gnashed their tusks, at the assembly below. Long nar-
row windows lighted the banqueting room on both sides,
lass, through which the sun emitted

y
oO

filled up with stained
a dusky and-discoloured light. A banner, which tradition
averred to have been taken from the English at the battle
of Sark, waved over the chair in which Ellieslaw pre-
sided, as if to inflame the courage of the guests, by
reminding them of ancient victories over their neighbours.
He himself, a portly figure, dressed on this occasion with
uncommon care, and with features, which, though of a
Kern and sinister expression, might well be termed hand-THE BLACK DWARE. 143

some, looked the old feudal baron extremely well. Sir
Frederick Langley was placed on his right hand, and
Mr. Mareschal of Mareschal-Wells on his left. Some
gentleme” of consideration, with their sons, brothers, and
nephews, were seated at the upper end of the table, and
among these Mr. Ratcliffe had his place. Beneath the
salt-cellar (a massive piece of plate which occupied the
midst of he table) sate the sine nomine turba, men whose
vanity was gratified by holding even this subordinate
space at the social board, while the distinction observed
in ranking them was a salvo to the pride of their supe-
riors. That the lower house was not very select must
be admitted, since Willie of Westburnflat was one of the
party. The unabashed audacity of this fellow, in daring
to present himself in the house of a gentleman, to whom
he had just offered so flagrant an insult, can only be
accounted for by supposing him conscious that his share
in carrying off Miss Vere was a secret, safe in her pos-
session and that of her father.
3efore this numerous and miscellaneous party was
placed a dinner, consisting, not indeed of the delicacies
of the season, as the newspapers express it, but of viands,
ample, solid, and sumptuous, under which the very board
groaned. But the mirth was not in proportion to the
zood cheer. The lower end of the table were, for some
time, chilled by constraint and respect, on finding them-
selves members of so august an assembly ; and those who
were placed around it had those feelings of awe with
which P. P., clerk of the parish, describes himself op-
pressed, when he first uplifted the psalm in presence S
those persons of high worship, the wise Mr. Justice
Freeman, the good Lady Jones. and the great Sir Thomas
Truby. This ceremonious frost, however, soon gave Way

ee IO ine, san 2——

Pa Par

  

144 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

 

before the incentives to merriment, which were liberally
supplied, and as liberally consumed by the guests of the
lower description. They became talkative, loud, and
even clamorous in their mirth.

But it was not in the power of wine or brandy to
elevate the spirits of those who held the higher places at
the banquet. ‘They experienced the chilling revulsion
of spirits which often takes place, when men are called
upon to take a desperate resolution, after having placed
themselves in circumstances where it is alike difficult to
advance or to recede. The precipice looked deeper and
more dangerous as they approached the brink, and each
waited with an inward emotion of awe, expecting which
of his confederates would set the example by plunging
himself down. This inward sensation of fear and reluc-
tance acted differently, according to the various habits
and characters of the company. One looked grave;
another looked silly; a third gazed with apprehension on
the empty seats at the higher end of the table, designed
for members of the conspiracy whose prudence had pre-
vailed over their political zeal, and who had absented
themselves from their consultations at this critical period ;
and some seemed to be reckoning up in their minds the
comparative rank and prospects of those who were present
and absent. Sir Frederick Langley was reserved, moody,
and discontented. Ellieslaw himself made such forced
efforts to raise the spirits of the company, as plainly
marked the flagging of his own. Ratcliffe watched the
scene with the composure of a vigilant but uninterested
spectator. Mareschal alone, true to the thoughtless vivacity
of his character, eat and drank, laughed and jested, and
seemed even to find amusement in the embarrassment of
the company.THE BLACK DWARF. 145

“What has damped our noble courage this morning ? ”
he exclaimed. ‘We seem to be met at a funeral, where
the chief mourners must not speak above their breath,
while the mutes and the saulies (looking to the lower end
of the table) are carousing below. Ellieslaw, when will
you 44ft?* where sleeps your spirit, man? and what hag
quelled the high hope of the Knight of Langley-dale ?”

“You speak like a madman,” said Ellieslaw; “do you
not see how many are absent ?”

“ And what of that?” said Mareschal. “ Did you not
know before, that one-half of the world are better talkers
than doers? For my part, I am much encouraged by
seeing at least two-thirds of our friends true to the
rendezvous, though I suspect one-half of these came to
secure the dinner in case of the worst.”

“There is no news from the coast which can amount
to certainty of the King’s arrival,” said another of the
company, in that tone of subdued and tremulous whisper
which implies a failure of resolution.

“ Not a line from the Earl of D
gentleman from the southern side of the Border,” said a
third.

“ Who is he that wishes for more men from England,”
exclaimed Mareschal, in a theatrical tone of affected

 

, hor a single

heroism,

“My cousin Ellieslaw? No, my fair cousin,
If we are doomed to die ”

 

“For God’s sake,” said Ellieslaw, “spare us your folly
at present, Mareschal.”
Well, then,” said his kinsman, “ I'll bestow my wisdom

* To lift, meaning to lift the coffin, is the common expression for
commencing a funeral.
VOL. XI. 10

     
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
 
 
 
 
  
  
 
 
 
   

+ PO ay EERE Dine 00e* re.
eee Te oleae,

Rey Sea RR

146 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

upon you instead, such as itis. If we have gone forws ard
like fools, do not let us go back like cowards. We have
done enough to draw upen us both the suspicion and
vengeance of the government; do not let us give up
before we have done something to deserve it. What,
will no one speak? Then I'll leap the ditch the first.”
And, starting up, he filled a beer-glass to the brim with
claret, and waving his hand, commanded all to follow his
example, and to rise up from their seats. All obeyed —
the more qualified guests as if passively, the others with
enthusiasm. ‘Then, my friends, I give you the pledge
of the day,—The independence of Scotland, and the
health of our lawful sovereign, King James the Eighth,
now landed in Lothian, and, as I trust and believe, in full
possession of his ancient capital i

He quaffed off the wine, and threw the glass over his
head.

“Tt should never,” he said, “ be profaned by a meaner

toast.”
All followed his ae and, amid the crash of glasses
and the shouts of the company, pledged themselves to

stand or fall with the “OHAGIBIE and political interest
which their toast expressed.

“You have leaped the ditch with a witness,” said
Ellieslaw, apart to Mareschal; “but I believe it is all
for the best: at all events, we cannot now retreat from
our undertaking. One man alone” (looking at Ratcliffe)

“has refused the pledge; but of that by and by.”

—

= se é
Then rising up, he addressed the company in a style

jae
/
2

of inflammatory invective against the government and ifs

measures, but especially the Union; a treaty, by means
of which, he affirmed. Scotland had been at once cheated

vf her independence, her commerce, and her honour, andTHE BLACK DWARF. 147

laid as a fettered slave at the foot of the rival, against
whom, through such a length of ages, through so many
dangers, and by so much blood, she had honourably
defended her rights. This was touching a theme which
found a responsive chord in the bosom of every man
present.

“Our commerce is destroyed,” hallooed old John Rew-
castle, a Jedburgh smuggler, from the lower end of the
table.

“ Gur agriculture is ruined,” said the Laird of Broken-
girth-flow, a territory, which, since the days of Adam, had
borne nothing but ling and whortle-berries.

“Our religion is cut up, root and branch,” said the
pimple-nosed pastor of the Episcopal meeting-house at
Kirk whistle.

“We shall shortly neither dare shoot a deer nor kiss a
vench, without a certificate from the presbytery and kirk-
treasurer,” said Mareschal- Wells.

“Or make a brandy jeroboam in a frosty morning,
without license from a commissioner of excise,” said the
smugeler.

“ Or ride over the fell in a moonless night,” said West-
burnflat, “ without asking leave of young Earnscliff, or
some Enelified justice of the peace: thae were gude days
on the Border when there was neither peace nor justice
heard of.”

“ Let us remember our wrongs at Darien and Glencoe,”
continued Ellieslaw, “and take arms for the protection of
yur rights, our fortunes, our lives, and our families.”

“Think upon genuine Episcopal ordination, without
which there can be no lawful clergy,” said the divine.

“Think of the piracies committed on our East-Indian
wade by Green and the English thieves,” said William

me Ee

aoe

TAR ta PS em ot

ae

148 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

Willieson, half-owner and sole skipper of a brig that
made four voyages annually between Cockpool and
Whitehaven.

“Remember your liberties,” rejoined Mareschal, who
seemed to take a mischievous delight in precipitating the
movements of the enthusiasm which he had excited, like
a rcguish boy, who, having lifted the sluice of a mill-dam,
enjoys the clatter of the wheels which he has put in
motion, without thinking of the mischief he may have
occasioned. “Remember your liberties,” he exclaimed ;
“confound cess, press, and presbytery, and the memory
of old Willie that first brought them upon us!”

“Damn the gauger!” echoed old John Rewcastle;
“7’]] cleave him wi’ my ain hand.”

“ And confound the country-keeper and the constable !”
re-echoed Westburnflat; “TIl weize a brace of balls
through them before morning.”

“We are agreed, then,” said Ellieslaw, when the shouts
had somewhat subsided, “to bear this state of things no
longer ?”

“We are agreed to a man,” answered his guests.

“ Not literally so,” said Mr. Ratcliffe ; “for though I
cannot hope to assuage the violent symptoms which seem
so suddenly to have seized upon the company, yet I beg
to observe, that so far as the opinion of a single member
goes, I do not entirely coincide in the list of grievances
which has been announced, and that I do utterly protest
against the frantic measures which you seem disposed to
adopt for removing them. I can easily suppose much of

what has been spoken may have arisen out of the heat
of the moment, or have been said perhaps in jest. But
there are some jests of a nature very apt to transpire;
and you ought to remember, gentlemen, that stone-walls

Rave cars ”THE BLACK DWARP. 149

“ Stone-walls may have ears,” returned Ellieslaw, eye-
ing him with a look of triumphant malignity, “but do
mestic spies, Mr. Ratcliffe, will soon find themselves
without any, if any such dares to continue his abode in a
family where his coming was an unauthorized intrusion,

; : . %
where his conduct has been that of a presumptuous med-

dler, and from which his exit shall be that of a baffled
knave, if he does not know how to take a hint.”

“Mr. Vere,” returned Ratcliffe, with calm contempt,
“I am fully aware, that as soon as my presence becomes
useless to you, which it must through the rash step you
are about to adopt, it will immediately become unsafe to
myself, as it has always been hateful to you. But I have
one protection, and it isa strong one; for you would not
willingly hear me detail before gentlemen, and men of
honour, the singular circumstances in which our connexion
took its rise. As to the rest, I rejoice at its conclusion ;
and as I think that Mr. Mareschal and some other gentle-
men will guarantee the safety of my ears and of my throat
(for which last I have more reason to be apprehensive)
during the course of the night, I shall not leave your
castle till to-morrow morning.”

“ Be it so, sir,” replied Mr. Vere; “ you are entirely
safe from my resentment, because you are beneath it, and
sot because I am afraid of your disclosing any family
.ecrets, although, for your own sake, I warn you to be.
ware how you do so. Your agency and intermediation
can be of little consequence to one who will win or lose
all, as lawful right or unjust usurpation shall succeed in
the struggle that is about to ensue. Farewell, sir.”

Ratcliffe arose, and cast upon him a look, which Vere
aeemed to sustain with difficulty, and, bowing to those

around him, left the room.

   
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 

Se TEI I one.

—2 anew
WE RR eR Se toe

150 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

This conversation made an impression on many of the
which Ellieslaw hastened to dispel, by entering

eompany,
Their hasty deliberations

upon the business of the day.
went to organize an immediate insurrection. Ellieslaw,
Mareschal, and Sir Frederick Langley, were chosen lead-
ers, with powers to direct their farther measures. A place
of rendezvous was appointed, at which all agreed to meet
early on the ensuing day, with such followers and friends
to the cause as each could collect around him. Several
of the guests retired to make the necessary preparations 5
and Ellieslaw made a formal apology to the others, who,
with Westburnflat and the old smuggler, continued to ply
the bottle stanchly, for leaving the head of the table, as
he must necessarily hold a separate and sober conference
with the coadjutors whom they had associated with him
in the command.

The apology was the more readily accepted, as he
prayed them, at the same time, to continue to amuse
themselves with such refreshments as the cellars of the
castle afforded. Shouts of applause followed their re-
treat; and the names of Vere, Langley, and, above all.
of Mareschal, were thundered forth in chorus, and bathed
with copious bumpers repeatedly, during the remainder
.f the evening.

When the principal conspirators had retired into a
separate apartment, they gazed on each other for a minute
with a sort of embarrassment, which, in Sir Frederick’s
dark features, amounted to an expression of discontented
sullenness. Mareschal-was the first to break the pause,
g, with a loud burst of laughter,—“ Well! we are
fairly embarked now, gentlemen—vogue la galére !”

sayin

“We may thank you for the plunge,” said Ellieslaw-
“ Yes; but [ don’t know how far you will thar me,’THE BLACK DWARR. 151

answered Mareschal, “ when I show you this letter, which
I received just before we sat down. My servant told me
it was delivered by a man he had never seen before, who
went off at the gallop, after charging him to put it inte
my own hand.”

Ellieslaw impatiently opened the letter, and read
wloud-—

Honp. Sir, Edinburgh, :

Having obligations to your family, which shall be name-
less, and learning that you are one of the company of
adventurers doing business for the house of James and
Company, late merchants in London, now in Dunkirk, I
think it right to send you this early and private informa-
tion, that the vessels you expected have been driven off
the coast, without having been able to break bulk, or to
land any part of their cargo; and that the west-country
partners have resolved to withdraw their name from the

 

firm, as it must prove a losing concern. Having good

hope you will avail yourself of this early information, to

do what is needful for your own security, I rest your

humble servant, Ninit NAMELEss.
For RAuPH MARESCHAL, of Mareschal- Wells

— These, with care and speed.

Sir Frederick’s jaw dropped, and his countenance black-
ened, as the letter was read, and Ellieslaw exclaimed —
“Why, this affects the very mainspring of our enterprise.
tf the French fleet, with the King on board, has been
vhased off by the English, as this d—d scrawl seems to
intimate, where are we ?”

“Just where we were this morning, I think,” said

Vareschal., still laughing.

 

   
 
  
  
   
   
  
 
  
 
 
  
  
 
 
  
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
  
 
 
 
  

ar OO,

aanew.

Se a

cca

152 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

“Pardon me, and a truce to your ill-timed mirth, Mr.
Mareschal ; this morning we were not committed publicly,

as we now stand comn vitted by your own mad act, when

you had a letter in your po cket apprizing you that our
undertaking was des perate”

“ Ay, ay, I expected you would say so. But, in the
tirst hikes my friend Nihil Nameless and his letter may
be all a flam; and, moreover, I would have you know that
T am tired of a party that does nothing but form bold
resolutions over night, and sleep them away with their
wine before morning. The government are now unpro-
vided of men and ammunition ; in a few weeks they will
have enough of both: the country is now in a flame
against them; in a few weeks, betwixt the effects of self-
interest, of fear, and of lukewarm indifference, which are
already so visible, this first fervour will be as cold as
Christmas. So, as I was-determined to go the vole, I
‘ave taken care you. shall dip as deep as I; it sig-
nifies nothing plunging. You are fairly in the bog, and
must struggle through.”

“You are mistaken with respect to one of us, Mr
Mareschal,” said Sir Freder ick Langley ; and, applying
himself to the bell, he desired the person who entered to
order his servants and horses instantly

“You must not leave us, Sir Frederick,” said Ellie-
glaw; “we have our musters to go over.”

“J will go to-night, Mr. Vere,” said Sir Frederick,
“and write you my intentions in this matter when I am
at home.”

“« Ay,” said Mareschal, “and send them by a troop of
horse from Carlisle to make us prisoners? Look ye, Sir
Frederick, I for one will neither be deserted nor_ be-
frayed; and if you leave Ellieslaw Castle to-night, 1

thall be by passing over my dead body. ,THE BLACK DWARF. 193

* For shame! Mareschal,” said Mr. V ere, “how can
you so hastily misinterpret our friend’s intentions? Tam
sure Sir Frederick can only be jesting with us; for, were
he not too honourable to dream of deserting the cause, he
cannot but remember the full proofs we have of his
accession to it, and his eager activity in advancing it
He cannot but be conscious, besides, that the first infor-
mation will be readily received by government, and that
if the question be, which can first lodge intelligence of the
affair, we can easily save a few hours on him.”

“You should say you, and not we, when you talk of
priorities in such a race of treachery; for my part, I
won't enter my horse for such a plate,” said Mareschal;
and added betwixt his teeth, “ A pretty pair of fellows to
trust a man’s neck with!”

“Tam not to be intimidated from doing what I think
proper,” said Sir Frederick Langley ; “and my first step
shall be to leave Ellieslaw. I have no reason to keep
faith with one” (looking at Vere) “ who has kept none
with me.”

“In what respect,” said Ellieslaw, silencing, with a
motion of his hand, his impetuous kinsman—‘“ how have
I disappointed you, Sir Frederick ?”

“In the nearest and most tender point
irifled with me concerning our proposed alliance, which

 

you have

you well knew was the gage of our political undertaking.
This carrying off and this bringing back of Miss Vere,—
the cold reception I have met with from her, and the
excuses with which you cover it, I believe to be mere
evasions, that you may yourself retain possession of the
estates which are her’s by right, and make me, in the
meanwhile, a tool in your desperate enterprise, by holdmg
pitt hopes and expectations which you are resolved never

to realize.”

     
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
   
   
  
 
 
   
 
 
 
   

en TNE Hc a

beeamo

Pie Mr

PS Seamer

2 engine

  

1 Db WAVERLEY NOVELS.

 

« Sir Frederick, I protest, by all that is sacred——’

« J will listen to no protestations ; I have been cheated
with them too long,” answered Sir Frederick.

“Tf you leave us,” said Ellieslaw, “ you cannot but
know both your ruin and ours is certain; all depends on
our adhering together.”

“Leave me to take care of myself,’ returned the
knight; “but were what you say true, I would rather
perish than be fooled any farther.”

“Can nothing—no surety convince you of my sin-
cerity?” said Ellieslaw, anxiously; “this morning I
should have repelled your unjust suspicions as an insult;

93

 

but situated as we now are
“ You feel yourself compelled to be sincere?” retorted

Sir Frederick. “If you would have me think so, there

is but one way to convince me of it—let your daughter

bestow her hand on me this evening.”

answered Vere; “think of

3

“So soon ?—impossible,’
her late alarm—of our present undertaking.”

“ T will listen to nothing but to her consent, plighted at
the altar. You have a chapel in the castle—Doctor
Hobbler is present among the company—this proof of
your good faith to-night, and we are again joined in heart
and hand. If you refuse me when it is so much for your
advantage to consent, how shall I trust you to-morrow,
when I shall stand committed in your tmdertaking, and
unable to retract ?” 3

“And am I to understand, that, if you can be made
my son-in-law to-night, our friendship is renewed?” said
Ellieslaw.

“Most infallibly, and most inviolably,” replied Sir
Frederick.

“Then,” said Vere, “ though what you ask is premaTHE BLACK DWARF. 135

}

ture, indelicate, and unjust towards my character, yet, Sir
Wredezick, give me your hand—my daughter shall be
your wife.”

“This night ? ”

“This very night,” replied Ellieslaw, “ before the clock
strikes twelve.”

‘With her own consent, I trust,” said Mareschal ;
“for I promise you both, gentlemen, I will not stand
tamely by, and see any violence put on the will of my
pretty kinswoman.”

“Another pest, in this hot-headed fellow,” muttered
Kllieslaw; and then aloud, “ With her own consent? For
what do you take me, Marescha: that you should sup-
pose your interference necessary to protect my daughter
against her father? Depend upon it, she has no repug-
nance to Sir Frederick Langley.”

“Or rather to be called Lady Langley? faith, like
enough—there are many women might be of her mind;
and I beg your pardon, but these sudden demands* and
concessions alarmed me a little on her account.”

“Tt is only the suddenness of the proposal that embar-
rasses me,” said Ellieslaw; “ but perhaps if she is found

3?

 

intractable, Sir Frederick will consider

“T will consider nothing, Mr. Vere—your daughter’s
hand to-night, or I depart, were it at midnight—there is
my ultimatum.”

“JT embrace it,” said Elheslaw, “and I will leave you
to talk upon our military preparations, while I go to pre-
pare my daughter for so sudden a change of condition.’
So saying, he left the company.

       
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
   
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

eeanne

PERE oon ot

WAVERLEY NOVELS.

CHAPTER XIV.

ffe brings Earl Osmond to receive my VOws.
O dreadful change! for Tancred, haughty Osmond.
TANCRED AND SIGISMUNDA.

Mr. Vere, whom long practice of dissimulation had
enabled to model his very gait and footsteps to aid the
purposes of deception, walked along the stone passage,
and up the first flight of steps towards Miss Vere’s apart-
ment, with the alert, firm, and steady pace of one who is
bound, indeed, upon important business, but who enter-
tains no doubt he can terminate his affairs satisfactorily.
Butavhen out of hearing of the gentlemen whom he had
left, his step became so slow and irresolute, as to corre-
spond with his doubts and his fears. At length he paused
in an antechamber to collect his ideas, and form his plan
of argument, before approaching his daughter.

“Jn what more hopeless and inextricable dilemma was
ever an unfortunate man involved! ”—Such was the tenor
of his reflections.—“ If we now fall to pieces by disunion,
there can be little doubt that the government will take
my life as the prime agitator of the insurrection. Or,
grant I could stoop to save myself by a hasty submission,
am I not, even in that case, utterly ruined? I have
broken irreconcilably with Ratcliffe, and can have nothing
to expect from that quarter but insult and persecution.
{ must wander forth an impoverished and dishonouredTHE BLACK DWARF. 157

man, without even the means of sustaining life, far lesg
wealth sufficient to counterbalance the infamy which my
countrymen, both those whom I desert:and those whom I
‘join, will attach to the name of the political renegade. It
is not to be thought of. And yet, what choice remains
between this lot and the ignominious scaffold? Nothing
can save me but reconciliation with these men; and, to
accomplish this, | have promised to Langley that Isabella
shall marry him ere midnight, and to Mareschal, that she
shall do so without compulsion. I have but one remedy
betwixt m2 and ruin—her consent to take a suitor whom
she dislikes, upon such short notice as would disgust her,
even were he a favoured lover—But I must trust to the
romantic generosity of her disposition; and let me paint
the necessity of her obedience ever so strongly, I cannot
overcharge its reality.”

Having finished this sad chain of reflections upon his
perilous condition, he entered his daughter’s apartment
with every nerve bent up to the support of the argument
which he was about to sustain. Though a deceitful and
ambitious man, he was.not so devoid of natural affection
but that he was shocked at the part he was about to act,
in practising on the feelings of a dutiful and affectionate
child; but the recollections, that, if he succeeded, his
daughter would only be trepanned into an advantageous
match, and that, if he failed, he himself was a lost man,
were quite sufficient to drown all scruples.

He found Miss Vere seated by the window of her
dressing-room, her head reclining on her hand, and either
sunk in slumber, or so deeply engaged in meditation, that
she did not hear the noise he made at his entrance. He
approached with his features composed to a deep expres=
sion of sorrow and sympathy, and, sitting down beside

ieahre

eesti temerity

158 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

her, solicited her attention by quietly taking her hand, a
motion which he did not fail to accompany with a deep
sigh.

“My father!” said Isabella, with a sort of start which’
expressed at least as much fear as joy or affection.

“Yes, Isabella,” said Vere, “your unhappy father,
who comes now as a penitent to crave forgiveness of his
‘laughter for an injury done to her in the excess of his
affection, and then to take leave of her forever.”

“Sir? Offence to me! Take leave forever! What
does all this mean?” said Miss Vere.

“Yes, Isabella, I am serious. But first let me ask you,
have you no suspicion that I may have been privy to the
strange chance which befell you yesterday morning ?”

“ You sir?” answered Isabella, stammering between a
consciousness that he had guessed her thoughts justly,
and the shame as well as fear which forbade her to
acknowledge a suspicion so degrading and so unnatural.

“Yes!” he continued, “your hesitation confesses that
you entertained such an opinion, and I have now the
paintul task of acknowledging that your suspicions have
done me no injustice. But listen to my motives. In an
evil hour I countenanced the addresses of Sir Frederick
Langley, conceiving it impossible that you could have
Any permanent objections to a match where the advan-
tages were, in most respects, on your side. Ina worse,
I entered with him into measures calculated to restore
our banished monarch, and the independence of my
country. He has taken advantage of my unguarded
confidence, and now has my life at his disposal.”

“Your life, sir?” said Isabella, faintly.

“ Yes, Isabella,” continued her father, “the life of him

who gave life to you. So soon as I foresaw the excessesTHE

   

BLACK DWARF. 159

into which his headlong passion (for to do him justice, T
believe his unreasonable conduct arises from excess of
attachment to you) was likely to hurry him, I endeay-
oured, by finding a plausible pretext for your absence for
some weeks, to extricate myself from the dilemma in
which I am placed. For this purpose I wished, in case
your objections to the match continued insurmountable, to
have sent you privately for a few months to the convent
of your maternal aunt at Paris. By a series of mistakes
you have been brought from the place of secrecy and
security which I had destined for your temporary abode.
Fate has baffled my last chance of escape, and I have
only to give you my blessing, and send you from thé
castle with Mr. Ratcliffe, who now leaves it; my own
fate will soon be decided.”

“ Good Heaven, sir! can this be possible?” exclaimed
Isabella. “Oh, why was I freed from the restraint in
which you placed me? or why did you not impart your
pleasure to me?”

“Think an instant, Isabella. Would you have had me
prejudice, in your opinion, the friend I was most desirous
of serving, by communicating to you the injurious eager-
ness with which he pursued his object? Could I do so
honourably, having promised to assist his suit ?—But it is
all over. J and Mareschal have made up our minds to
die like men; it only remains to send you from hence
under a safe escort.”

“ Great powers! and is there no remedy?” said the
terrified young woman.

“ None, my child,” answered Vere, gently, ‘ unless
pne which you would not advise your father to adopt—to
be ihe first to betray his friends.”

* Qh, no, no!” she answered, abhorrently yet hastily,

   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

=arm
PEN. Aram

pA
B.

160 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

as if to reject the temptation which the alternative pre-
sented to her. “But is there no other hope—through
flizht—through mediation—through supplication r—I will
bend my knee to Sir Frederick!”

“Tt would be a fruitless degradation; he is determined
on his course, and I am equally resolved to stand the
hazard of my fate. On one condition only he will turn
aside from his purpose, and that condition my lips shall
never utter to you.”

“ Name it, I conjure you, my dear father
Isabella. “ What can he ask that we ought not to grant,
to prevent the hideous catastrophe with which you are
threatened ?”

“That, Isabella,’ said Vere, solemnly, “ you shall
never know, until your father’s head has rolled on the
bloody scaffold; then, indeed, you will learn: there was

1»

exclaimed

one sacrifice by which he might have been saved.”

“ And why not speak it now?” said Isabella; “do you
fear I would flinch from the sacrifice of fortune for your
preservation? or would you bequeath me the bitter
legacy of life-long remorse, so oft as I shall think that
you perished, while there remained one mode of prevent-
ing the dreadful misfortune that overhangs you ?”

“Then, my child,” said Vere, “since you press me to
name what I would a thousand times rather leave in
silence, I must inform you that he will accept for ransom
nothing but your hand in marriage, and that conferred
before midnight this very evening!”

“This evening, sir!” said the young lady, struck with
horror at the proposal— and to such a man !|— A man !—~
k morster, who could wish to win the daughter by threat-
ming the life of the father—it is indeed impossible.”
“Xou say right, my child,” answered her father, “it igTHE BLACK DWARF. 161

indeed impossible; nor have I either the right or the
wish to exact such a sacrifice—It is the course of nature
that the old should die and be forgot, and the young
should live and be happy.”

“ My father die, and his child can save him !—but no—
no-—my dear father, pardon me, it is impossible; you
only wish to guide me to your wishes. I know your
object is what you think my happiness, and this dreadful
tale is only told to influence my conduct and subdue my
scruples.”

“My daughter,” replied Ellieslaw, in a tone where
offended authority seemed to struggle with parental
affection, “my child suspects me of inventing a false
tale to work upon her feelings! Even this I must bear,
and even from this unworthy suspicion I must descend ta
vindicate myself. You know the stainless honour of your

 

cousin Mareschal—mark what I shall write to him, and
judge from his answer, if the danger in which we stand
is not real, and whether I have not used every means to
avert it.”

He sate down, wrote a few lines hastily, and handed
them to Isabella, who, after repeated and painful efforts,
cleared her eyes and head sufficiently to discern their
purport.

“Dear cousin,” said the billet, “I find my daughter,
as I expected, in despair at the untimely and premature
urgency of Sir Frederick Langley. She cannot even
ecmprehend the peril in which we stand, or how much
we are in his power—Use your influence with him, for
fleaven’s sake, to modify proposals, to the acceptance of
which I cannot, and will not, urge my child against all
her cwn feelings, as well as those of delicacy and pro
priety, and oblige your loving cousin,—R. V.”

VOL. XI. 11

 
   
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   

—smi

oie

PANE:

162 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

In the agitation of the moment, when her swimming
eyes and dizzy brain could hardly comprehend the sense
of what she looked upon, it is not surprising that Miss
Vere should have omitted to remark that this letter
seemed to rest her oa rather upon the form and
time of the proposed union, than on a rooted dislike to
the suitor proposed to her. ie Vere rang the bell, ara
zave the letter to a servant to be delivered to Mr. are
schal, and rising from his chair, continued to traverse the
apartment in silence and in great agitation until the
answer was returned. - He glanced it over, and wrung
the hand of his daughter as he gave it to her. The tenor
was as follows :—

“ My dear kinsman, I have already urged the knight
on the point you mention, and I find him as fixed as
Cheviot. -I am truly sorry my fair cousin should be
chts. Sir

rig

pressed to give up any of her maidenly
Frederick consents, however, to leave the castle with me
the instant the ceremony is performed, and we will raise:
our followers and begin the fray. Thus there is creat
hope the bridegroom may be knocked on the head before
he and the bride can meet again, so Bell has a fair chance

be Lady Langley @ trés bon marché. For the rest, I
can only say, that if she can- make up her mind ‘to the
alliance at all—it is no time for mere maiden ceremony-—
my pretty cousin must needs consent to marry in haste,
or we shall all repent at leisure, or rather have very little
leisure to repent; which is all at present from him whe
rests your affectionate kinsman.—R. M.

“P. S.—Tell Isabella that I would rather cut the
knight’s throat after all, and end the dilemma that way,
than see her constrained to marry him against her will.”

When Isabella had read this letter, it dropped from herTHE BLACK DWARF. 163

hand, and she would, at the same time, have fallen from
her chair, had she not been supported by her father.
“My God, my child will die!” exclaimed Vere, the
feelings of nature acest even in Avs breast, the
sentiments of selfish policy; “look up, Isabella—look
up, my child—come what will, you shall not be the sacri-
fice—I will fall myself with the consciousness I leave
you happy—My child may weep on my grave, but she

 

shall not—not in this instance—reproach my memory.”
He called a servant.— Go, bid Ratcliffe come hither
directly.”

During this interval, Miss Vere became deadly pale,
clenched ‘Nek hands, pressing the palms strongly together,
closed her eyes, and drew her lips with strong compres-
sion, as if the severe constraint which she put upon her
internal feelings extended even to her muscular organiza-
tion. Then raising her head, and drawing in her breath
strongly ere she spoke, she said with firmness,—‘ lather,
I consent to the marriage.”

“You shall not—you shall not—my child—my dear
child—you shall not embrace certain misery to free me
from uncertain danger.”

So exclaimed ae ; and, strange and inconsistent
beings that we are! he expressed the real though mo-
me ey feelings of his heart.

see repeated Isabella, “I will consent to this
merriage.”

« No, my child, no—not now at least
ourselves to obtain delay from him; and yet, Tsabella,
could you overcome a dislike which has no real founda-
think, in es respects, what a match !—_we alth—

 

we will humble

tion,
rank —importance.’

4 ; [ ; oe 99
“ Father,” reiterated Isabella, “ I have consented.ms aa
PR Ate

WAVERLEY NOVELS.

“Tt seemed as if she had lost the power of saying any-
thing else, or even of varying the phrase which, with such
effort, she had compelled herself to utter.

“ Heaven bless thee, my child!—Heaven bless thee!
—And it wll bless thee with riches, with pleasure, with
power.”

Miss Vere faintly entreated to be left by herself for the
rest of the evening.

“ But will you not receive Sir Frederick ?.”

said her
father anxiously. .
““T will meet him,” she replied, “I will meet him-——
when I must, and where I must; but spare me now.”
“Be it so, my dearest; you shall know no restraint
that I can save you from. Do not think too hardly of
Sir Frederick for this,—it is an excess of passion.”
Isabella waved her hand impatiently.
“Forgive me, my child—I go—Heaven bless thee.

 

At eleven—if you call me not before—at eleven I come
to seek you.”

When he left Isabella she dropt upon her knees—
“Heaven aid me to support the resolution I have taken

—Heaven only can—O, poor Earnscliff!

who shall com-
fort him? and with what contempt will he pronounce her
name, who listened to him to-day and gave herself to
another at night! But let him despise me—better so
than that he should know the truth—Let him despise me ;
if it will but lessen his grief, I should feel comfort in the
loss of his esteem.”

She wept bitterly ; attempting in vain, from time to
‘ime, to commence the prayer for which she had sunk en
her knees, but unable to calm her spirits sufficiently for
ihe exercise of devotion. As she remained in this agonp

of mind, the door of her apartment was slowly opened.THE BLACK DWARE’. 165

CHAPTER XV.

The darksome cave they enter, where they found
The woful man, low sitting on the ground,
Musing full sadly in his sullen mind.
FAERY QUEEN.

Tum intruder on Miss Vere’s sorrows was Ratcliffe.
Ellieslaw had, in the agitation of his mind, forgotten to
countermand the order he had given to call him thither,
so that he opened the door with the words, ‘ You sent
for me. Mr. Vere.” Then looking around—* Miss Vere,
alone! on the ground! and in tears io

“ Teave me—leave me, Mr. Ratcliffe,” said the un-
happy young lady.

“JT must not leave you,” said Ratcliffe ; “I have been
repeatedly requesting admittance to take my leave of you,
and have been refused, until your father himself sent for
me. Blame me not, if I am bold and intrusive; I have
a duty to discharge which makes me so.”

“J cannot listen to you—I cannot speak to you, Mr.

Ratcliffe; take my best wishes, and for God’s sake leave
me.”

«Tell me only,” said Ratcliffe, “is it true that this |
monstrous match is to go forward, and this very night ?

{ heard the servants proclaim it as I was on the great

staircase-—I heard the directions

De RNa:

given to clear out the

chapel.”' ——
PO RE

<< ReC

166 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

“Spare me, Mr. Ratcliffe,” replied the luckless bride,
“and from the state in which you see me, judge of the
eruelty of these questions.”

“Married! to Sir Frederick Langley! and this night!
It must not—can not—shall not be.”

“Tt must be, Mr. Ratcliffe, or my father is ruined.”

“Ah! I understand,’ answered Ratcliffe; “and you
have sacrificed yourself to save him who—But let the
virtue of the child atone for the faults of the father—uit
is no time to rake them up. What can be done? Time
presses—I know but one remedy—with four-and-twenty
hours I might find many—Miss Vere, you must implore
the protection of the only human being who has it in his
power to control the course of events which threatens toe
hurry you before it.”

“ And what human being,” answered Miss Vere, “ has
such power? ”

“Start not when I name him,” said Ratcliffe, coming
near her, and speaking in a low but distinct voice. “Tt
is he who is called Elshender the Recluse of Mucklestane-
Moor.”

“You are mad, Mr. Ratcliffe, or you mean to insult
my misery by an ill-timed jest’ ”

y, answered

~~

“Tam as much in my senses, young lad
her adviser, “as you are; and I am no idle jester, far
less with misery, least of all with your misery. I swear
to you that this being (who is other far than what he
scems) actually possesses the means of redeeming you
frem this hateful union.”

“And of ensuring my father’s safety ? ”

“Yes !-even that,” said Ratcliffe, “if you plead his
cause with him—yet how to obtain admittance to the
Revluse |”THE BLACK DWARF. 167

“Fear not that,” said Miss Vere, suddenly recollecting
the incident of the rose; “I remember he desired me te
-all upon him for aid in my extremity, and gave me this
flower as a token. re it faded away entirely, 1 would
need, he said, his assistance: is it possible his words can
have been aught but the ravings of insanity ? ”

“ Doubt it not
cliffe, “let us lose no time

 

 

but above all,” said Rat-
Are you at liberty, and

fear it not

 

unwatched ? ”

“JT believe so,” said Isabella; “but what would you
have me to do?”

“Leave the Castle instantly,’ said Ratcliffe, “and
throw yourself at the feet of this extraordinary man, who,
in circumstances that seem to argue the extremity of the
most contemptible poverty, possesses yet an almost abso-
lute influence over your fate-—Guests and servants are
deep in their carouse—the leaders sitting in conclave on
their treasonable schemes—my horse stands ready in the
stable—I will saddle one for you, and meet you at the
little garden-gate—O, let no doubt of my prudence or
fidelity prevent your taking the only step in your power
to escape the dreadful fate which must attend the wife
of Sir Frederick Langley.”

“ Mr. Ratcliffe,” said Miss Vere, “you have always
been esteemed a man of honour and probity, and a
drowning wretch will always catch at the feeblest twig,—
I will trust you—I will follow your advice—I will meet
you at the earden-gate.”

She bolted the outer-door of her apartment as soon as
Mr. Ratcliffe left her, and descended to the garden by a
separate stair of communication which opened to her
On the way she felt inclined to retract

dressing-room.
so hastily given to a plan so hopeless

the consent she had

st PI

 

ae ry
SSS etaah,

“es.

—"
wage

vita te ei
PE te

ee

Dish AR lage

> eatin

ae

{68 ; WAVERLEY NOVELS.

and extravagant. But as she passed in her descent a
private door which entered into the chapel from the back
stair, she heard the voice of the female servants as they
were employed in the task of cleaning it.

“Married! and to sae bad a man—Ewhow, sirs! ony
thing rather than that.”

“They are right—they are right,’ said Miss Vere,
“any thing rather than that.’

She hurried to the garden. Mr. Ratcliffe was true to
his appointment—the horses stood saddled at the garden-
gate, and in a few minutes they were advancing rapidly
towards the hut of the Solitary.

While the ground was favourable, the speed of their
journey was such as to prevent much communication;
but when a steep ascent compelled them to slacken their
pace, a new cause of apprehension occurred to Miss
Vere’s mind.

“Mr. Ratcliffe,” she said, pulling up her horse’s bridle,
“let us prosecute no farther a journey which nothing but
the extreme agitation of my mind can vindicate my havy-
ing undertaken—I am well aware that this man passes
among the vulgar as being possessed of supernatural
powers, and carrying on an intercourse with beings of
another world ; but I would have you aware I am neither
to be imposed on by such follies, nor, were I to believe in
their existence, durst I, with Lay feelings of religion,
apply to this being in my distress

“T should have thought, Miss V ere,” replied Ratcliffe,
“my character and habits of thinl king were so well known
to you, that you might have held me exoulpated from
crediting any such absurdity.”

“ But in what other mode,” said Isabella, “can a being,
so miserable himself in appearance, possess the power-of

Assisting me ?” ;THE BLACK DWARF. 16$

“Miss Vere,” said Ratcliffe, after a momentary pause,
“fam bound by a solemn oath of secrecy—You must,
without farther explanation, be satisfied with my pledged
assurance, that he does possess the power, if you can
inspire him with the will; and that, I doubt not, you will
be able to do.”

“Mr. Ratcliffe,” said Miss Vere, “you may yourself be
mistaken ; you ask an unlimited degree of confidence
from me.”

““ Recollect, Miss Vere,’ he replied, “that when, in
your humanity, you asked me to interfere with your
father in favour of Haswell and his ruined family—when
you requested me to prevail on him to do a thing most

 

abhorrent to his nature—to forgive an injury and remit
a penalty—I stipulated that you should ask me no
questions concerning the sources of my influence—You
found no reason to distrust me then, do not distrust me
now.”

“ But the extraordinary mode of life of this man,” said
Miss Vere; “his seclusion—his figure—the deepness of
misanthropy which he is said to express in his language
—Mr. Ratcliffe, what can I think of him if he really
possesses the powers you ascribe to him?”

“This man, young lady, was bred a Catholic, a sect
which affords a thousand instances of those who have
retired from power and affluence to voluntary privations
more strict even than his.”

“But he ayows no religious motive,” replied Miss
Vere.

“No,” replied Ratcliffe ; “disgust with the world has
operated his retreat from it without assuming the veil of
superstition. Thus far I may tell you—he was born te
sreat wealth, which his parents designed should become+ git

ei eT a

(rn apt.

 

:
a

‘

en

17U WAVERLEY NOVELS.

greater by his union with a kinswoman, whom for that
: ; .
purpose they bred up in their own house. You have
seen his figure; judge what the young lady must have
Yet habit-
uated to his appearance, she owed no. reluctance, and
of the person whom I speak of, doubted

 

thought of the lot to which she was destined

 

the friends of
not that the excess of his attachment, the various acquisi-
tions of his mind, his m: any and amiable qualities, had
overcome the natural horror which his destined bride
must have entertained at an exterior so dreadful ly inau-
spicious.”

“ And did they judge truly ?” said Isabella

* You shall hear. He, at least, was fully.aware of his
own deficiency ; the sense of it haunted him like a phan-
I mean to

 

tom. ‘Iam, was his own expression to me,
aman whom he trusted—‘I am, in spite of what you
would say, a poor miserable outcast, fitter to have been
smothered in the cradle than to have been brought up to
scare the world in which I crawl’ The person whom he
addressed in vain endeav urea to impress him with the
indifference to external form, which is the natural result
of ee or entreat him to recall the superiority of
mental talents to the more attractive attributes that are
merely personal.. ‘I hear you, he would reply ; ‘bus
you speak the voice of cold-blooded stoicis sm, or, at least,
of friendly parti: lity. But look-at ev ery book which we

4

have read, those excepted of that abstract philosophy
which feels no responsive voice in our natural feelings.
Is not personal form, such as at least can be tolerated
without horror and disgust, always represented as essential]
to our ideas of a friend, far more a lover? Ts not such a
mis-shapen monster as T am excluded. by the very fiat

of Nature, from her fairest enjoyments? What but myTHE BLACK DWARF. 171

 

wealth prevents all—perhaps even Letitia, or you—trom
shunning me as something foreign to your nature, and
more odious, by bearing that distorted resemblance te
humanity which we observe in the animal tribes that are
more hateful to man because they seem his caricature?’”

“ You repeat the sentiments of a madman,” said Miss
Vere.

“No,” replied her conductor, “unless a morbid and
excessive sensibility on such a subject can be termed
insanity. Yet I will not deny that this governing feeling
and apprehension carried the person who entertained it
to lengths which indicated a deranged imagination. He
appeared to think that it was necessary for him, by exu-
berant, and not always well-chosen instances of liberality,
and even profusion, to unite himself to the human race,
from which he conceived himself naturally dissevered.
The benefits which he bestowed, from a disposition natu-
rally philanthropical in an uncommon degree, were exag-
eerated by the influence of the goading reflection, that
lavish-

 

more was necessary from him than from others,
ing his treasures as if to bribe mankind to receive him
into their class. It is scarcely necessary to say, that the
bounty which flowed from a source so capricious was
often abused, and his confidence frequently betrayed.

These disappointments, which occur to all, more or less,
and most to such as confer benefits without just diserimi-
iis diseased fancy set down to the hatred and

nation, |
by his personal deformity.—But I

contempt excited
fatigue you, Miss Vere ae
“ No, by no means ; I—I could not prevent my atten-
S . aya,
jion frum wandering an instant; pray proceed.
te e = : ° Os 66 Q
“ He became at length,” continued Ratcliffe, “the most

mgenious self-tormentor of whom I have ev-r heard; the

2. Ears®
Pa Bee

VOR Samora

Monet

   
  
     
   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
 
  
  
   
  
  
   

WAVERLEY NOVELS.

seott of the rabble, and the sneer of the yet more brutal
vulgar of his own rank, was to him agony and breaking
on the wheel. He regarded the laugh of the common
people whom he passed on the street, and the suppressed
titter, ur yet more offensive terror, of the young girls to
whom he was introduced in company, as proofs of the
true sense which the world entertained of him, as a
prodigy unfit to be received among them on the usual
terms of society, and as vindicating the wisdom of his
purpose in withdrawing himself from among them. On
the faith and sincerity of two persons alone, he seemed
to rely implicitly—on that of his betrothed bride, and of
a friend eminently gifted in personal accomplishments,
who seemed, and indeed probably was, sincerely attached
to him. He ought to have been so at least, for he was
literally loaded with benefits by him whom you are now
about to see. The parents of the subject of my story
died within a short space of each other. .Their death
postponed the marriage, for which the day had been
fixed. ‘The lady did not seem greatly to mourn this
delay,—perhaps that was not to have been expected;
but she intimated no change of intention, when, after ‘A
decent interval, a second day was named for their union.
The friend of whom I spoke was then a constant resident
ut the Hall. In an evil hour, at the earnest request and
entreaty of this friend, they joined a general party, where
men of different political opinions were mingled, snd
where they drank deep. A quarrel ensued; the friend
of the Recluse drew his sword with others, and was
thrown down and disarmed by a more powerful antago-
nist. They fell in the strugele at the feet of the Recluse,
who, maimed und truncated as his form appears, pos-

sesses, nevertheless, great strength, as well as violent pas-THE BLACK DWARF. 173

sions. [He caught up a sword, pierced the heart of his
fiiend’s antagonist, was tried, and his life, with difficulty,
redeemed from justice, at the expense of a year’s close
imprisonment, the punishment of manslaughter. The
incident affected him most deeply, the more that the
deceased was a man of excellent character, and had sus-
tained gross insult and injury ere he drew his sword. I
think, from that moment, I observed—I beg pardon-=
The fits of morbid sensibility which had tormented this
unfortunate gentleman, were rendered henceforth more
acute by remorse, which he, of all men, was least capa-
ble of having incurred, or of sustaining when it became
his unhappy lot. His paroxysms of agony could not be
concealed from the lady to whom he was betrothed ; and
it must be confessed they were of an alarming and fear-
ful nature. He comforted himself, that, at the expiry of
his imprisonment, he could form with his wife and friend
a society, encircled by which he might dispense with
more extensive communication with the world. He was
deceived ; before that term elapsed, his friend and his
betrothed bride were man and wife. The effects of a
shock so dreadful on an ardent temperament, a disposi-
tion already soured by bitter remorse, and loosened by
the indulgence of a gloomy imagination from the rest of
mankind, I cannot describe to you; it was as if the last
sable at which the vessel rode had suddenly parted, and
Jeft her abandoned to all the wild fury of the tempest.
He was placed under medical restraint. As a temporary
measure this might have been justifiable; but his hard-
hearted friend, who, in consequence of his marriage, was
now his nearest ally, prolonged his ccnfinement, in order
to enjoy the management of his immense estates. There
was ane who owed his all to the sufferer, an humble=

, #

~—

OER TR. wii:

Re,

  

WAVERLEY NOVELS.

 

friend, but grateful and faithful. By unceasing exertion,
and repeated invocation of justice, he at length succeeded
in obtaining his patron’s freedom, and reinstatement in
the management of his own property, to which was soon
added that of his intended bride, who, having died with-
out male issue, her estates reverted to him, as heir of
entail. But freedom, and wealth, were unable to restore
the equipoise of his mind; to the former his grief made
him indifferent—the latter only served him as far as it
afforded him the means of indulging his strange and way-
ward fancy. He had renounced the Catholic religion,
but perhaps some of its doctrines continued to influence a
mind, over which remorse and misanthropy now assumed,
in appearance, an unbounded authority. His life has
since been that alternately of a pilgrim and a hermit, suf-
fering the most severe privations, not mdeed in ascetie
devotion, but in abhorrence of mankind. Yet no man’s
words and actions have been at such a wide difference,
nor has any hypocritical wretch ever been more ingenious
in assigning good motives for his vile actions, than this
uniortunate in reconciling to his abstract principles of
misanthropy a conduct which flows from his natural gen-
erosity and kindness of feeling.”

“Still, Mr. Ratcliffe
eles of a madman.”

 

still you deseribe the inconsisten-

39

“ By no means,” replied Ratcliffe. “That the imagi«
nation of this gentleman is disordered, I will not pretend
to dispute; I have already told you that it has some-
times broken out into paroxysms approaching to~ real
mental alienation. But it is of his common state of mind
that I speak; it is irregular, but not aeranged ; the
shades are as gradual as those that divide the light of
noonday from midnight. The courtier who: ruins: hisTHE BLACK DWARF. 17A

fortune for the attainment of a title which can do him no
good, or power of which he can make no suitable or
creditable use, the miser who hoards his useless wealth,
and the prodigal who squanders it, are all-marked with a
certain shade of insanity. To criminals who are guilty
of enormities, when the temptation to a sober mind, bears
no proportion to the horror of the act, or the probability
of detection and punishment, the same observation ap-
plies ; and every violent passion, as well as anger, may
be termed a short madness.”

“This may be all good philosophy, Mr. Ratcliffe,”
answered Miss Vere; ‘but excuse me, it by no means
emboldens me to visit, at this late hour, a person whose
extravagance of imagination you yourself can only pal-
liate.”

“ Rather, then,” said Ratcliffe, “receive my solemn
assurances, that you do not incur the slightest danger.
But what I have been hitherto afraid to mention, for
tear of alarming you, is, that now when we are within sight
of his retreat, for I can discover it through the twi-
light, I must go no farther with you; you must proceed
alone.” a

« Alone ?—-I dare not.”

“You must,” continued Ratcliffe; “I will remain here
and wait for you.”

“ You will not, then, stir from this place,” said Miss
Vere; “yet the distance is so great, you could not hear
me were I to cry for assistance.”

“ Hear nothing,” said her guide; “or observe, at least,

ome e ; °C e g : < < . * x ¥ z 12Q7 Etta . e al r.

bre utmost caution stifling every expression Of timidity

me + that his predominant and most harassing ap-
femember, that his pre

egrehension arises from a consciousness of the hideousness

of his appearance. Your path hes straight beside yon

x{76 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

half-fallen willow; keep the left side of it; the marsh
lies on the right. Farewell for a time. Remember the
evil you are threatened with, and let it overcome at once

your fears and scruples.”

“Mr. Ratcliffe,” said Isabella, farewell ; “if you have
deceived one so unfortunate as myself, you have for ever
forfeited the fair character for probity and honour to which
T have trusted.”

“ On my life—on my soul,” continued Ratcliffe, raising
his voice as the distance between them increased, “ you
are safe—perfectly safe.”THE BLACK DWARF, hag

CHAPTER XVI.

————— "Twas time and griefs
That framed him thus: Time, with his fairer hand,
Offering the fortunes of his former days,
The former man may make him.—Bring us to him,
And chance it as it may.
OLD Pray.

Tue sounds of Ratcliffe’s voice had died on Fsabella’a
2ar; but as she frequently looked back, it was some en-
vouragement to her to discern his form now d: arkening in
the gloom. Ere, however, she went much farther, she
lost the object in the increasing shade. The last elimmer
of the twilight placed her before the hut of the Solitary.
She twice extended her hand to the door, and twice she
withdrew it; and when she did at length make the effort,
the. knock did not equal in violence the throb of her own
bosom. Her next effort was louder; her third was
reiterated, for the fear of not obtaining the protection
from which Ratcliffe promised so much, began to over-
power the terrors of ‘his presence from whom she was te
request it. At length, as she still received no answer,

oO

1]

she repeatedly called upon the Dwarf by his assumed
name, and requested him to answer and open to her

«“ What miserable being is reduced,” said the appalling
poice of the Solitary, “to seek refuge here? Go hence;
when the heath-fowl need shelter, they seck it not in the
nest of the night-raven.”

“SOL.

Xf.

     
 
 
 
   
 
 
 
   
   
 
  
  
 
  
    
  
   
  
 
 
 
  
 
 
    
 
  
   

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WAVERLEY NOVELS.

 

178

“I come to you, father,” said Isabella, ‘in my hour of
adversity, even as you yourself commanded, when you
promised your heart and your door should be epen to my
distress ; but I fear

“Ha!” said the Solitary, “then thou art Isabella
Vere? Give me a token that thou art she.”

“JT have brought you back the rose which you gave
me; it has not had time to fade ere the hard fate you
foretold is come upon me!”

“ And if thou hast thus redeemed thy pledge,” said the
Dwarf, “I will not forfeit mine. ‘The heart and the door
that are shut against every other earthly being, shall be

 

open to thee and to thy sorrows.”

She heard him move in his hut, and presently after-
wards strike a light. One by one, bolt and bar were then
withdrawn, the heart of Isabella throbbing higher as these
obstacles to their meeting were successively removed.
The door opened, and the Solitary stood before her, his
uncouth form and features illuminated. by the iron lamp
which he held in his hand.

‘Enter, daughter of affliction,’ he said —“ enter the
house of misery.”

She entered, and observed, with a precaution which
increased her trepidation, that the Recluse’s first act, after
setting the lamp upon the table, was to replace the
numerous bolts which secured the door of his hut. She
shrunk as she heard the noise which accompanied this
ominous operation, yet remembered Ratcliffe’s caution,
and endeavoured to suppress all appearance of apprehen-
gion. The light of the lamp was weak and uncertain;
but the Solitary without taking immediate notice of
{sabella, otherwise than by motioning her to sit down on

a small settle beside the fire-place, made haste to kindleTHE BLACK DWARF. 179

some dry furze, which presently cast a blaze through the
rottage. Wooden shelves, which bore a few books, some
bundles of dried herbs, and one or two wooden cups and
platters, were on one side of the fire; on the other were
placed some ordinary tools of field-labour, mingled with
those used by mechanics. Where the bed should have
been, there was a wooden frame, strewed with withered
moss and rushes, the couch of the ascetic. The whole
space of the cottage did not exceed ten feet by six within
the walls; and its only furniture, besides what we have
mentioned, was a table and two stools formed of rough
deals.

Within these narrow precincts Isabella now found her-
self enclosed with a being, whose history had nothing to
reassure her, and the fearful conformation of whose
hideous countenance inspired an almost superstitious
terror. He occupied the seat opposite to her, and drop-
ping his huge and shaggy eyebrows over his piercing
black eyes, gazed at her in silence, as if agitated by a
variety of contending feelings. On the other side sate
Isabella, pale as death, her long hair uncurled by the
evening damps, and falling over her shoulders and breast,
as the wet streamers droop from the mast when the storm
has passed away, and left the vessel stranded on the
beach. The Dwarf first broke the silence with the
sudden, abrupt, and alarming question,—* Woman, what
evil fate has brought thee hither ?”

‘My father’s danger, and your own command,” she
replied faintly, but firmly.

“ And you hope for aid from me?”

“Tf you can bestow it,” she replied, still in the same
one of mild submission.

“ And how should I possess that power?” continuedde. Rote aera

2 AO Np. 1

7 ae.

180 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

the Dwarf, with a bitter sneer; “ Is mine the fomn of a
redresser of wrongs? Is this the castle m which one
powerful enough to be sued to by a fair supplant is likely
to hold his residence ? I but mocked thee, girl, when I
said I would relieve thee.”

“Then must I depart, and face my fate as I best
may.”

“No!” said the Dwarf, rising and interposing between
ber and the door, and motioning to her sternly te resume
her seat
have farther conference. Why should one being desire

 

“No! you leave me not in this way ; we must

aid of another? Why should not each be sufficient to
itself? look round you—TI, the most despised and most
decrepit on Nature’s common, Lave required sympathy
and help from no one. These stones are of my own
piling; these utensils I framed with my own hands; and

with this” and he laid his hand with a fierce smile on

 

the long dagger which he always wore beneath his gar-
ment, and unsheathed it so far that the blade glimmered
clear in the fire-light—* With this,” he pursued, as he
thrust the weapon back into the seabbard, “I ean, if
necessary, defend the vital spark enclosed in this poor
trunk, against the fairest and strongest that shall threaten
me with injury.”

It was with difficulty Isabella refrained from screaming
out aloud; but she did refrain. |

“This,” continued the Recluse, “is the life of nature,
solitary, self-sufficing, and independent: The wolf ealls
not the wolf to aid him in forming his den; and the vul-
ture invites not another to assist her in striking down her
prey.”

“And when they are unable to procure themselves
support,” said Isabella, judiciously thinking he would heTHE BLACK DWARF. hs

most accessible to argument couched in his own meta:
phorical style, “ what then is to befall them? ”
“Let them starve, die, and be forgotten: it is the com-
mon lot of humanity.”
“Tt is the lot of the wild tribes of nature,” said Isabella,
‘but chiefly of those who are destined to support them-
sel\ es by rapine, which brooks no partner; but it is not
tie law of nature in general ; even the lower orders have
contederacies for mutual defence. But mankind—the
race would perish did they cease to aid each other.—
Irom the time that the mother binds the child’s head,
till the moment that some kind assistant wipes the death-
damp from the brow of the dying, we cannot exist without
| mutual help. All, therefore, that need aid, have right to
ask it of their fellow-mortals ; no one who has the power
of granting can refuse it without guilt.”

“ And in this simple hope, poor maiden,” said the Soli-
tary, “thou hast come into the desert, to seek one whose
wish it were that the league thou hast spoken of were
broken for ever, and that, in very truth, the whole race |
should perish? Wert thou not frightened ?”

“Misery,” said Isabella, firmly, “is superior to fear.”

“ast thou not heard it said in thy mortal world that
I have leagued myself with other powers, deformed to the
eye, and malevolent to the human race as myself? Hast !
thou not heard this?—And dost thou seek my cell at .
midnight ? ”

“The being I worship supports me against such idle
fears,” said Isabella; but the increasing agitation of her
bosom belied the affected courage, which her words
expressed.

“Ho! ho!” said tne Dwarf, “thou vauntest thyself 4
shilosopher? Yet, shouldst thou not have thought ot theEMM Rsaete

ee lg

oo

182 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

danger of intrusting thyself, young and beautiful, in the
power of one so spited against humanity, as to place his
chief pleasure in defacing. destroying, and degrading her
fairest works ?”

Isabella, much alarmed, continued to answer with firm-
ness, “ Whatever injuries you may have sustained in the
world, you are i&capable of revenging them on one who
never wronged you, nor, wilfully, any other.”

“ Ay, but maiden,” he continued, his dark eyes flashing
with an expression of malignity which communicated
itself to his wild and distorted features, “revenge is the
hungry wolf, which asks only to tear flesh and lap blood.
Think you the lamb’s plea of innocence would be listened
to by him ?”

“Man!” said Isabella,-rising, and expressing herself
with much dignity, “I fear not the horrible ideas with
which you would impress me. I cast them from me with
disdain. Be you mortal or fiend, you would not offer
injury to one who sought you as a suppliant in her
utmost need. You would not—you durst not.”

2

“Thou say’st truly, maiden,” rejoined the Solitary; “I
dare not—I would not. Begone to thy dwelling. Fear
nothing with which they threaten thee. Thou hast asked
my protection—thou shalt find it effectual.”

“ But, father, this very night I have consented to wed
the man that I abhor, or I must put the seal to my father’s
ruin.”

“ This night ?—at what hour ?”

“ Ere midnight ?”

“And twilight,” said the Dwarf, “has already passed
away. But fear nothing, there is ample time to protect
thee.”

“And my father?” continued Isabella in a suppliani

sone.THE BLACK DWARF 184

Thy father,” repled the Dwarf, “has been, and is,
my most bitter enemy. But fear not; thy virtue shall
bave him. And now, begone; were I to keep thee longer
by me, I might again fall into the stupid dreams concern-
mg human worth from which J have been so fearfully
awakened. But fear nothing—at the very foot of the
altar [ will redeem thee. Adieu, time presses, and I
must act!”

He led her to the door of the hut, which he opened for
her departure. She remounted her horse, which had
been feeding in the outer enclosure, and pressed him
forward by the light of the moon, which was now rising,
to the spot where she had left Ratcliffe.

“ Have you succeeded?” was his first eager question.

“I have obtained promises from him to whom you sent
me ; but how can he possibly accomplish them ?”

“Thank God!” said Ratcliffe, “doubt not his power
to fulfil his promise.”

At this moment a shrill whistle was heard to resound
along the heath.

“Hark!” said Ratcliffe, “he calls me—Miss Vere,
return home, and leave unbolted the postern-door of the
garden; to that which opens on the back stairs I have a
private key.”

A second whistle was heard, yet more shrill and pro-
longed than the first.

“T come, I come,” said Ratcliffe; and setting spurs to
his horse, rode over the heath in the direction of the
Recluse’s hut. Miss Vere returned to the Castle, the
mettle of the animal on which she rode, and her own
anxiety of mind, combining to accelerate her journey.

he obeyed Ratcliffe’s directions, though without well
apprehending their purpose, and leaving her horse atee a rs
sen eS

fi

 

fe

PE Mt >

WAVERLEY NOVELS.

large in a paddock near the garden, hurried to her own
apartment, which she reached without observation. She
nuw unbolted her door, and rang her bell for lights. Her
father appeared along with the servant who answered her
summons.

“ He had been twice,” he said, “ listening at her door
during the two hours that had elapsed since he left her,
and, not hearing her speak, had become apprehensive
that she was taken ill.”

“ And now, my dear father,” she said, “ permit me to
claim the promise you so kindly gave ; let the last moments
of freedom which I am to enjoy be mine without interrup-
tion; and protract to the last moment the respite which is
allowed me.”

“T will,’ said her father; “nor shall you be again
interrupted. But this disordered dress—this dishevelled
hair—do not let me find you thus when I call on you
again; the sacrifice, to be beneficial, must be voluntary.”

“Must it be so?” she replied; “then fear not, my
father! the victim shall be aderned.”THE RLACK DWARF. 1895

4

CHAPTER XVII.

This looks not like a nuptial.

MucH Apo ABouT NOTHING.

Tae chapel in the castle of Ellieslaw, destined to be
the scene of this ill-omened union, was a building of much
older date than the castle itself, though that claimed con-
siderable antiquity. Before the wars between England
and Scotland had become so common and of such long
duration, that the buildings along both sides of the Border
were chiefly dedicated to warlike purposes, there had been
a small settlement of monks at Ellieslaw, a dependency,
it is believed by antiquaries, on the rieh Abbey of Jed-
burgh. Their possessions had long passed away under
the changes introduced by war and mutual ravage. A
feudal castle had° arisen on the ruin of their cells, and
their chapel was included in its precincts. .

The edifice, in its round arches and massive pillars, the
simplicity of which referred their date to what has been
ealled the Saxon architecture, presented at all times a
dark and sombre appearance, and had been frequently
used as the cemetery of the family of the feudal lords, as
well as formerly of the monastic brethren. But it looked
doubly gloomy by the effect of the few and smoky torches
which were used to enlighten it on the present occasion,
and which, spreading a glare of yellow light in their
mmediate vicinity, were surrounded beyond by a red andaE

a

PR emee

tae ee

 

i186 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

purple halo reflected from their own smoke, and beyond
that again by a zone of darkness which magnified the
extent of the chapel, while it rendered it impossible for
the eye to ascertaim its limits. Some injudicious orna-
ments, adopted in haste for the occasion, rather added to
the dreariness of the scene. Old fragments of tapestry,
torn from the walls of other apartments, had been hastily
and partially disposed around those of the chapel, and
mingled inconsistently with scutcheons and funeral em-
blems of the dead, which they elsewhere exhibited. On
each side of the stone altar was a monument, the appear-
ance of which formed an equally strange contrast. Or
the one was the figure, in stone, of some grim hermit, or
monk, who had died in the odour of sanctity; he was
represented as recumbent, in his cowl and scapulaire,
with his face turned upward as in the act of devotion, and
his hands folded, from which his string of beads was
dependent. On the other side was a tomb, in the Italian
taste, composed of the most beautiful statuary marble,
and accounted a model of modern art. It was erected to
the memory of Isabella’s mother, the late Mrs. Vere of
Ellieslaw, who was represented as in a dying posture,
while a weeping cherub, with eyes averted, seemed in
the act of extinguishing a dying lamp as emblematic of
her speedy dissolution. It was, indeed, a masterpiece of
art, but misplaced in the rude vault to which it had been
consigned. Many were surprised, and even scandalized,
that Ellieslaw, not remarkable for attention to his lady
while alive, should erect after her death such a costly
mausoleum in affected sorrow; others cleared him from
the imputation of hypocrisy, and averred that the monu-
ment had been constructed under the direction and at
the sole expense of Mr. Ratcliffe.THE BLACK DWARBR.

 

187

Before these 1nonuments the wedding guests were
assembled. ‘They were few in number; for many had
left the castle to prepare for the ensuing political explo-
sion, and Elheslaw was, in the circumstances of the ase,
far from being desirous to extend invitations farther than’
to those near relations whose presence the custom of the
country rendered indispensable. Next to the altar stood
Sir Frederick Langley, dark, moody, and thoughtful,
even beyond his wont, and near him, Mareschal, who was
to play the part of bridesman, as it was called. The
thoughtless humour of this young gentleman, on which
he never deigned to place the least restraint, added to
the cloud which overhung the brow of the bridegroom.

“The bride is not yet come out of her chamber,” he
whispered to Sir Frederick; “TI trust that we must not have
recourse to the violent expedients of the Romans which
I read of at College. It would be hard upon my pretty
cousin to be run away with twice in two days, though I
know none better worth such a violent compliment.”

Sir Frederick attempted to turn a deaf ear to this dis-
course, humming a tune, and looking another way, but
Mareschal proceeded in the same wild manner.

“This delay is hard upon Dr. Hobbler, who was dis-
turbed to accelerate. preparations for this joyful event
when he had successfully extracted the cork of his third
bottle. I hope you will keep him free of the censure of
his superiors, for I take it this is beyond canonical hours.
—But here comes Ellieslaw and my pretty cousin—pret-
tier than ever, I think, were it not she seems so faint and
so deadly pale—Hark ye, Sir Knight, if she says not YES
with right good-will, it shall be no wedding, for all that
has. come and gone yet.”

“No wedding, sir?” returned Sir Frederick, in a loudoan

7 ARR MR tx

°F aR: 5

188 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

whisper, the tone of which indicated that his angry feel-
Ings were suppressed with difficulty.
“No—no marriage,” replied Mareschal, “ there’s my

bom
<

hand and glove ont.”
Sir Frederick Langley took his hand, and as he wrung

it hard, said in a lower whisper, “ Mareschal, you shall

&

answer this,” and then flung his hand from him.

“© That I will readily do,” said Mareschal, “ for neve
word escaped my lips that my hand was not ready to
guarantee.—So, speak up, my pretty cousin, and tell me
if it be your free will and unbiassed resolution to accept
of this gallant knight for your lord and husband ; for if
you have the tenth part of a scruple upon the subject,
fall back, fall edge, he shall not have you.”

“ Are you mad, Mr. Mareschal ?” said Ellieslaw, who,
having been this young man’s guardian during his minority,
often employed a tone of authority to him. “Do you
suppose I would drag my daughter to the foot of the
altar, were it not her own choice ?”

“Tut, Ellieslaw,” retorted the young gentleman, “never
tell me of the contrary; her eyes are full of tears, and
her cheeks are whiter than her white dress. J must
insist, in the name of common humanity, that ‘the cere-
mony be adjourned till to-morrow.”

“She shall tell you herself, thou incorrigible inter-
meddler in what concerns thee not, that it is her wish the
ceremony should go on—Is it not, Isabella, my dear?”

“Tt is,” said Isabella, half fainting— since there is no
help either in God or man.”

The first word alone was distinctly audible. Mareschal
shrugged up his shoulders and stepped back. Elheslaw
led, or rather supported, his daughter to the altar. Sir
Frederick moved forward and placed himself by her sideTHE BLACK DWARPF. 189

‘ Se oe Bee es 1
The clergyman opened his prayer-book, and looked te
Mr. Vere for the signal to commence the service.
“Proceed,” said the latter.

4

+ 7 \} 2A 6A + 1QQ] . 5 ‘ a1 +4) fy a
But a voice, as if issuing from the tomb of his

¢

deceased
wife, called, in such loud and harsh aecents as awakened
every echo in the vaulted chapel, “ Forbear!”

All were mute and motionless, till a distant rustle, and
the clash of swords, or something resembling it, was
heard from the remote apartments. It ceased almost
instantly.

“What new device is this?” said Sir Frederick,
fiercely, eyeing Ellieslaw and Mareschal with a glance of
malignant suspicion.

“Tt can be but the frolic of some intemperate guest,”
said Ellieslaw, though greatly confounded; “ we must
make large allowances for the excess of this evening’s
festivity. Proceed with the service.”

Before the clergyman could obey, the same prohibition
which they had before heard was repeated from the same
spot. The female attendants screamed, and fled from the
chapel; the gentlemen laid their hands on their swords.
Ere the first moment of surprise had passed by, the
Dwarf stepped from behind the monument, and placed
himself full in front of Mr. Vere. The effect of so
strange and hideous an apparition in ‘such a place and in
such circumstances, appalled all present, but seemed to
annihilate the Laird of Ellieslaw, who, dropping his
daughter’s arm, staggered - against the nearest pillar, and,
alasping it with his hands as if for support, | laid his brow
against the column.

‘Who is this fellow,” said Sir Frederick ; “ and what
ages he mean by this intrusion ? ”

“Tt ig one who comes to tell you,” said the Dwarf, withein

ele

aeacin es

‘aie siaas

Rie ee ape

© TN ane"

190 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

the peculiar acrimony which usually marked his manner,
“that, in marrying that young lady, you wed neither the
heiress of Ellieslaw, nor of Mauley-Hall, nor of Polver-
ton, nor of one furrow of land, unless she marries with
MY consent; and to thee that consent shall never be
given. Down—down on thy knees, and thank Heaven
that thou art prevented from wedding qualities with which
thou hast no concern—portionless truth, virtue, and inno-
cence. And thou, base ingrate,” he continued, addressing
himself to Ellieslaw, “what is thy wretched subterfuge
now? ‘Thou, who wouldst sell thy daughter to relieve
thee from danger, as~in famine thou wouldst have slain
and devoured her to preserve thy own vile life! Ay,
hide thy face with thy hands; well mayest thou blush to
look on him whose body thou didst consign to chains, his
hand to guilt, and his soul to misery. Saved once more
by the virtue of her who calls you father, go hence, and
may the pardon and benefits I confer on thee prove
literal coals of fire, till thy brain is seared and scorched
like mine!”

Elleslaw left the chapel with a gesture of mute despair.

“Follow him, Hubert Ratcliffe,” said the Dwarf, “and
inform him of his destiny. He will rejoice—for to
breathe air and to handle gold is to him happiness.”

*T understand nothing of all this,” said Sir Frederick
Langley ; “but we are here a body of gentlemen in
arms and authority for King James; and whether you
really, sir, be that Sir Edward Mauley, who has been so
long supposed dead in confinement, or whether you be an
Impostor assuming his name and title, we will use the
freedom of detaining you, till your appearance here, at
this moment, is better accounted for; we will have no
spies among us. Seize on him, my friends.”THE GLACK DWARF. 19]

But the domestics shrunk back in doubt and alarm.
Nir Frederick himself stepped forward towards the Re-
eluse, as if to lay hands on his person, when his progress
was suddenly stopped by the glittering point of a partisan,
which the sturdy hand of Hobbie Elliot presented against
his bosom.

“Y'll gar day-light shine through ye, if you offer te
steer him!” said the stout Borderer; “stand back, o1
Yl strike ye through! Naebody shall lay a finger on
Elshie; he’s a canny neighbourly man, aye ready to
make a friend help; and, though ye may think him a
lamiter, yet, grippie for grippie, friend, ll wad a wether

he’ll make the bluid spin frae under your nails. He’s a
_teugh carle, Elshie! he grips like a smith’s vice.”

“What has brought you here, Elliot?” said Mareschal;
“who called on you for interference ?”

“"Troth, Mareschal-Wells,’ answered Hobbie, “I am
just come here, wi twenty or thretty mair o’ us, in my
ain name and the King’s—or Queen’s, ca’ they her? and
Canny Elshie’s into the bargain, to keep the peace, and
pay back some ill usage Ellieslaw has gien me. A bonny
breakfast the loons gae me the ither morning, and him at
the bottom on’t; and trow ye I wasna ready to supper
him up? Ye needna lay your hands on your swords,
gentlemen, the house is ours wi’ little din; for the doors
were open, and there had been ower muckle punch amang
your folk; we took their swords and pistols as easily aa
ye wad shiel peacods.”

Mareschal rushed out, and immediately re-entered the
chapel.

“By Heaven! it is true, Sir Frederick ; the house 1s
filled with armed men, and our drunken beasts are all
disarmed. Draw, and let us fight our way-”“

192 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

“ Binna rash-—-binna rash,” exclaimed Hobbie; “hear
me a bit. We mean ye nae harm; but, as ye are in
arms for King James, as ye ca’ him, and the prelates, we

thought it right to keep up the auld neighbour war, and

©
aR

stand up for the tother ane and the Kirk; but we’ll no
hurt a hair o’ your heads, if ye like to gang hame quietly.
And it will be your best way, for there’s sure news come
frae Loudoun, that him they ca’ Bang, or Byng, or what
is't, has bang’d the French ships and the new king aff the
coast however; sae ye had best bide content wi’ auld
Nanse for want of a better Queen.”

Ratcliffe, who at this moment entered, confirmed these
accounts so unfavourable to the Jacobite interest. Sir
Frederick, almost instantly, and without taking leave of
any one, left the castle, with such of his attendants as
were able to follow him.

“And what will you do, Mr. Mareschal?” said Rat-
cliffe.

“Why, faith,” answered he, smiling, “I hardly know;
my spirit is too great, and my fortune too small, for me to
follow the example of the doughty bridegroom. It is not
in my nature, and it is hardly worth my while.”

“Well, then, disperse your men, and remain quiet, and

this will be overlooked, as there has been no overt act.”

pans Paton

“Hout, ay,” said Elliot, “just let byganes be byganes,
and a’ friends again; deil ane I bear malice at but West-
burnflat, and I hae gien him baith a het skin and a cauld
ane. I hadna changed three blows of the broadsword wi’
him before he lap the window into the castle-moat, and
swattered. through it like a wild-duck. He’s a clever
fallow, indeed! maun kilt awa wi’ ae bonny lass in the
morning, and another at night, less wadna serve him! but
if he disna kilt himself out o’ the country, I’se kilt himTHE BLACK DWARR. 193

wi’ a tow, for the Castleton meeting’s clean blawn ower;
his friends will no countenance him.”

During the general confusion, Isabella had thrown her.
self at the feet of her kinsman, Sir Edward Mauley, for
so we must now call the Solitary, to express at once her
oratztude, and to beseech forgiveness for her father. The
eyes of all began to be fixed on them, as soon as their
own agitation and the bustle of the attendants had some-
what abated. Miss Vere kneeled beside the tomb of her
mother, to whose statue her features exhibited a marked
resemblance. She held the hand of the Dwarf, which
she kissed repeatedly and bathed with tears. He stood
fixed and motionless, excepting that his eyes glanced
alternately on the marble figure and the living suppliant.
At length, the large drops which gathered on his eye-
lashes compelled him to draw his hand across them.

“J thought,” he said, “that tears and I had done; but
we shed them at our birth, and their spring dries not until
we are in our craves. But no melting of the heart shall
dissolve my resolution. I part here, at once, and for ever,
with all of which the memory,” (looking to the tomb,)
“or the presence,” (he pressed Isabella’s hand,) “is dear
tome. Speak not to me! attempt not to thwart my de-
termination ! it will avail nothing; you will hear of and
see this lump of deformity no more. To you I shall be
dead ere I am actually in my grave, and you will think
of me as of a friend disencumbered from the toils and

33
°

crimes of existence.”
kiss on the brow of the statue by which she knelt, and
left the chapel followed by Ratcliffe. Isabella, almost
exhausted by the emotions of the day, was carried to her
apartment by her women. Most of the other guests diss

VOL. XI. 13sna ¥

191 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

persed after having separately endeavoured to impress on
all who would listen to them their disapprobation of the
plots formed against the Government, or their regret for
having engaged in them. Hobbie Elliot assumed’ the
command of the castle for the night, and mounted a rey-
ular guard. He boasted not a little of the alacrity with .
which his friends and he had obeyed a hasty summons
received from Elshie through the faithful Ratcliffe. And
it was a lucky chance, he said, that on that very day they
had got notice that Westburnflat did not intend to keep
his tryste at Castleton, but to hold them at defiance ; se
that a considerable party had assembled at the Heugh-
foot, with the intention of paying a visit to the robber’s
tower on the ensuing morning, and their course was easily
directed to Ellieslaw Castle.THE BLACK DWARP.

CHAPTER XVIII.

 

Last scene of all,
Jo close this strange eventful history.
As You LikE Ir.

On the next morning, Mr. Ratcliffe presented Miss
Vere with a letter from her father, of which the following

‘sg the tenor :—

“My DEAREST CHILD,

“ The malice of a persecuting government will compel
me, for my own safety, to retreat abroad, and to remain
for some time in foreign parts. I do not ask you to
accompany, or follow me; you will attend to my interest
and your own more effectually by remaining where you
are. It is unnecessary to enter into a minute detail con-
cerning the causes of the strange events which yesterday
took place. I think I have reason to complain of the
usage I have received from Sir Edward Mauley, who is
your nearest kinsman by the mother’s side ; but as he has
declared you his heir, and is to put you in immediate pos-
session of a large part of his fortune, I account it a full
atonement. Iam aware.he has never forgiven the prefer-
ence which your mother gave to my addresses, instead of
complying with the terms of a sort of family compact,
which absurdly and tyrannically destined her to wed her
deformed relative. ‘The shock was even sufficient toSRE einen ee a

196 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

unsettle his wits, (which, indeed, were never over-well
arranged,) and I had, as the husband of his nearest kins-
woman and heir, the delicate task of taking care of his
person and property, until he was reinstated in the man-
agement of the latter by those who, no doubt, thought
they were doing him justice ; although if some parts cf
his subsequent conduct be examined, it will appear that
he ought, for his own ‘sake, to have been left under the
influence of a mild and salutary restraint.

“In one particular, however, he shewed a sense of the
ties of blood, as well as of his own frailty ; for while he
sequestered himself closely from the world, under various
names and disguises, and insisted on spreading a report
of his own death, (in which to gratify him I willingly
acquiesced,) he left at my disposal the rents of a great
proportion of his estates, and especially all those, which,
having belonged to your mother, reverted to him as a
male fief. In this he may have thought that he was act-
ing with extreme generosity, while, in the opinion of all
impartial men, he will only be considered as having ful-
filled a natural obligation, seeing that, in justice, if not in
strict law, you must be considered as the heir of your
mother, and I as your legal administrator. Instead, there-
fore, of considering myself as loaded with obligations to
Sir Edward on this account, I think I had reason to com-
plain that these remittances were only doled out to me at
the pleasure of Mr. Ratcliffe, who, moreover, exacted
from me mortgages over my paternal estate of Ellieslaw
for any sums which I required as an extra advance ; and
thus may be said to have insinuated himself into the abso-
lute management and control of my property. Or, if all
this seeming friendship was employed by Sir Edward for

she purpose of ‘obtaining a complete command of myTHE BLACK DWARBR. 19?

affairs, and acquiring the power of ruining me at his
pleasure, I feel myself, I must repeat, still less bound by
the alleged obligation.

“About the autumn of last year, as I understand, either
his own crazed imagination, or the accomplishment of some
such scheme as I have hinted, brought him down te this
country. His alleged motive, it seems, was a desire of
seeing a monument which he had directed to be raised in
the chapel over the tomb of your mother. Mr. Ratcliffe,
who at this time had done me the honour to make my
house his own, had the complaisance to introduce him
secretly into the chapel. ‘The consequence, as he informs
me, was a frenzy of several hours, during which he fled
into the neighbouring moors, in one of the wildest spots
of which he chose, when he was somewhat recovered, to
fix his mansion, and set up for a sort of country empiric,
a character which, even in his best days, he was fond of
assuming. It is remarkable, that, instead of informing
me of these circumstances, that I might have had the
relative of my late wife taken such care of as his calami-
tous condition required, Mr. Ratcliffe seems to have had
such culpable indulgence for his irregular plans as to
promise and even swear secrecy concerning them. He
visited Sir Edward often, and assisted in the fantastic task
he had taken upon him of constructing a hermitage.
Nothing they appear to have dreaded more than a dis-
covery of their intercourse.

“The ground was open in every direction around, and
a small subterranean cave, probably sepulchral, which
their researches had detected near the great granite pillar,
served to conceal Ratcliffe, when any one approached his
master. I think you will be of opinion, my love, that
this secrecy must have had some strong motive. It isFREI Me Pecaptie.

98 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

also remarkable; that while I thought my unhappy friend
was residing among the Monks of La Trappe, he should
have been actually living, for many months, in this bizarre
disguise, within five miles of my house, and obtaining
regular information of my most private movements, either
by Ratcliffe, or throygh Westburnflat or others, whom he
had the means to bribe to any extent. He makes it a
crime against me that I endeavoured to establish your
marriage with Sir Frederick. I acted for the best; but
if Sir Edward Mauley thought otherwise, why did he not
step manfully forward, express his own purpose of be-
coming a party to the settlements, and take that interest
which he is entitled to claim in you as heir to’ his great
property ?

“ Even now, though your rash and eccentric relation is
somewhat tardy in announcing his purpose, I am far from
Opposing my authority against his wishes, although the
person he desires you to regard as your future husband
be young Earnscliff, the very last whom I should have
thought likely to be acceptable to him, considering a cer-
tain fatal event. But I give my free and hearty consent,
providing the settlements are drawn in such an irrevo-
cable form as may secure my child from suffering by that
state of dependence, and that sudden and causeless revo-
cation of allowances, of which I have so much reason to
complain. Of Sir Frederick Langley, I augur, you will
hear no more. He is not likely to claim the hand of a
dowerless maiden. I therefore commit you, my dear
Isabella, to the wisdom of Providence and to your own
prudence, begging you to lose no time in securing those
advantages, which the fickleness of your kinsman hag
withdrawn from me to shower upon you.

“Mr. Ratcliffe mentioned Sir Edward’s intention teTHE BLACK DWARF. 199

pettle a considerable sum upon me yearly, for my main-
tenance in foreign parts; but this my heart is too proud
to accept from him. I told him I had a dear child, who,
while in affluence herself, would never suffer me to be in
poverty. I thought it right to intimate this to him pretty
roundly, that whatever increase be settled upon you, it
may be calculated so as to cover this necessary and
natural encumbrance. I shall willingly settle upon you
the castle and manor of Ellieslaw, to shew my parental
affection and disinterested zeal for promoting your settle-
ment in life. The annual interest of debts charged on
the estate somewhat exceeds the income, even after a
reasonable rent has been put upon the mansion and
mains. But as all the debts are in the person of Mr.
Ratcliffe, as your kinsman’s trustee, he will not be a
troublesome creditor. And here I must make you aware,
that though I have to complain of Mr. Ratcliffe’s conduct
to me personally, I, nevertheless, believe him.a just and
upright man, with whom you may safely consult on your
affairs, not to mention that to cherish his good opinion
will be the best way to retain that of your kinsman.
Remember me to Marchie—I hope he will not be troubled
on account of late matters. I will write more fully from
the Continent. Meanwhile, I rest your loving father,
“RICHARD VERE.”

The above letter throws the only additional light
which we have been able to procure upon the earlier part
of our story. It was Hobbie’s opinion, and may be that
of most of our readers, that the Recluse of Mucklestane-
Moor had but a kind of gloaming, or twilight understand-
‘ng; and that he ha” neither very clear views as to what

oe himself wanted, nor was apt to pursue his ends by theSe ee

mata 2

WAVERLEY NOVELS.

elearest and most direct means: so that te seek the clew
pf his conduct, was likened, by Hobbie, to looking for a

>
Yo

traight path through a common, over which are a hun-
dred devious tracks, but not one distinet line of road.

When Isabella had perused the letter, her first inquiry
was after her father. He had left the castle, she was
informed, early in the morning, after a long interview
with Mr. Ratcliffe, and was already far on his way to the
next port, where he might expect to find shipping for the
Continent.

“Where was Sir Edward Mauley ?”

No one had seen the dwarf since the eventful scene of
the preceding evening.

“Odd, if ony thing has befa’en puir Elshie,” said Hob-
bie Elliot, “I wad rather I were harried ower again.”

He immediately rode to his dwelling, and the remain-
ing she-goat came bleating to meet him, for her milking-
time was long past. The Solitary was nowhere to be
seen ; his door, contrary to. wont, was open, his fire ex-
tinguished, and the whole hut was left in the state which
it exhibited on Isabella’s visit to him. It was pretty
clear that the means of conveyance which had brought
the Dwarf to Ellieslaw on the preceding evening, had
removed him from it to some other place of abode. Hob-
hie returned disconsolate to the castle.

“I am doubting we hae lost Canny Elshie for gude
an’ a’.”

“You have indeed,” said Ratcliffe, producing a paper,
which he put into Hobbie’s hands; “but read that, and
you will perceive you have been no loser by having
known him.”

It was a short deed of gift, by which “Sir Edward
Mauley, otherwise called Elshender the Recluse, endowedTHE BLACK DWARY. 201

Halbert or Hobbie Elliot, and Grace Armstrong, in full
property, with a considerable sum borrowed by Elliot
from him.”

Hobbie’s joy was mingled with feelings which brought
tears down his rough cheeks.

“ It’s a queer thing,” he said; “but I canna joy in the
gear, unless I kend the pvir body was happy that gave
it me.”

“ Next to enjoying happiness ourselves,” said Ratcliffe,
“is the consciousness of having bestowed it on others.
Had all my master’s benefits been conferred like the
present, what a different return would they have pro-
duced! But the indiscriminate profusion that would glut
avarice, or supply prodigality, neither does good, nor is
rewarded by gratitude. It is sowing the wind to reap
the whirlwind.”

“ And that wad be a light har’st,” said Hobbie; “but,
wi’ my young leddie’s leave, I wad fain take down
Kishie’s skeps o’ bees, and set them in Grace’s bit flower
yard at the Heugh-foot—they shall ne’er be smeekit by
ony 0 huz. And the puir goat, she would be negleckit
about a great toun like this; and she could feed bonnily
on our lily lea by the burn side, and the hounds wad ken
her in a day’s time, and never fash her, and Grace wad
milk her ilka morning wv her ain hand, for Elshie’s sake ;
for though he was thrawn and cankered in his converse,
he likeit dumb creatures weel.”

Hobbie’s requests were readily granted, not without
some wonder at the natural delicacy of feeling which
pointed out to him this mode of displaying his gratitude.
He was delighted when Ratcliffe informed him that his
benefactor should not remain ignorant of the care. which

ye took of his favourite.

   
   
  
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 

sale.Sat

Di\2 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

‘¢ And mind be sure and tell him that grannie and the
titties, and, abune a’, Grace and mysell, are weel and
thriving, and that it’s a his doing—that canna but please
him, ane wad think.”

And Elliot and the family at Heugh-foot were, and
continued to be, as fortunate and happy as his undaunted
honesty, tenderness, and gallantry, so well merited.

All bar between the marriage of Earnscliff and Isabella
was now removed, and the settlements which Ratcliffe
produced on the part of Sir Edward Mauley, might have
satisfied the cupidity of Ellieslaw himself. But Miss
Vere and Ratcliffe thought it unnecessary to mention to
Earnsceliff that one great motive of Sir Edward, in thus
loading the young pair with benefits, was to expiate his
having, many years before, shed the blood of his father
in a hasty brawl. If it be true, as Ratcliffe asserted, that
the Dwarf’s extreme misanthropy seemed to relax some-
what, under the consciousness of having diffused happiness
among so many, the recollection of this circumstance
might probably be one of his chief motives for refusing
obstinately ever to witness their state of contentment.

Mareschal hunted, shot, and drank claret—tired of the
country, went abroad, served three campaigns, came
home, and married Lucy Hderton.

Years fled over the heads of Earnscliff and his wife,
and found and left them contented and happy. The
scheming ambition of Sir Frederick Langley engaged
him in the unfortunate insurrection of 1715. He was
made prisoner at Preston, in Lancashire, with the Earl
of Derwentwater, and others. His defence, and the dying
speech which he made at his execution, may be fourd in
the State Trials. Mr. Vere, supplied by his daughter
with an ample income, continued to reside abroad, en:THE BLACK DWARF. 203

gaged deeply in the affair of Law’s bank during the
regency of the Duke of Orleans, and was at one time
supposed to be immensely rich. But, on the bursting of
that famous bubble, he was so much chagrined at being
again reduced to a moderate annuity, (although he saw
thousands of his companions in misfortune absolutely
starving,) that vexation of mind brought on a paralytic
stroke, of which he died, after lingering under its effects a
few weeks.

Willie of Westburnflat fled from the wrath of Hobbie
Elliot, as his betters did from the pursuit of the law. His
patriotism urged him to serve his country abroad, while
his reluctance to leave his native soil pressed him rather
to remain in the beloved island, and collect purses,
watches, and rings on the highroads at home.  For-
tunately for him, the first impulse prevailed, and he
joined the army under Marlborough; obtained a com-
mission, to which he was recommended by his services in
collecting cattle for the commissariat; returned home
after many years, with some money, (how come by
Heaven only knows,)—demolished the peel-house at
Westburnflat, and built, in its stead, a high narrow on-
stead, of three stories, with a chimney at each end—drank
brandy with the neighbours, whom, in his younger days,
he had plundered—died in his bed, and is recorded upon
his tombstone at Kirkwhistle, (still extant,) as having
played all the parts of a brave soldier, a discreet neigh-
bour, and a sincere Christian.

Mr. Ratcliffe resided usually with the family at Ellies-
law, but regularly every spring and autumn he absented
himself for about a month. On the direction and purpose
af his periodical journey he remained steadily silent; but
tt was well understood that he was then in attendance on~~.

es

i ee

WAVERLEY NOVELS.

his unfortunate patron. At length, on his return from
one of these visits, his grave countenance, and deep
mourning dress, announced to the Ellieslaw family that
their benefactor was no more. Sir Edward’s death made
no addition to their fortune, for he had divested_himself
of his property during his lifetime, and chiefly in their
favour. Ratcliffe, his sole confidant, died at a good old
age, but without ever naming the place to which his
master had finally retired, or the manner of his death, or
the place of his burial. It was supposed that on all these
particulars his patron had enjoined him strict secrecy.
The sudden disappearance of Elshie from his extra-
ordinary hermitage corroborated the reports which the
common people had spread ¢oncerning him. Many be-
lieved that, having ventured to enter a consecrated build-
ing, contrary to his paction with the Evil One, he had
been bodily carried off while on his return to his cottage ;
but most are of opinion that he only disappeared for a
season, and continues to be seen from time to time among
the hills. And retaining, according to custom, a more
vivid recollection of his wild and desperate language, than
of the benevolent tendency of most of his actions, he is
usually identified with the malignant demon called the
Man of the Moors, whose feats were quoted by Mrs.
Elliot to her grandsons; and, accordingly, is generally
represented as bewitching the sheep, causing the ewes to
keb, that is, to cast their lambs, or seen loosening the im-
pending wreath of snow to precipitate its weight on such
ns take shelter, during the storm, beneath the bank of a
torrent, or under the shelter of a deep glen. In short,
the evils most dreaded and deprecated by the inhabitants
of that pastoral country, are ascribed to the agency of the
Buack Dwarr.A LEGEND OF MONLROSEA LEGEND OF MONTROSE.

InTRODUCTION—(1829.)

Tue Lecenp or MONTROSE was written chiefly with
a view to place before the reader the melancholy fate of
John Lord Kilpont, eldest son of William Earl of Airth
and Menteith, and the singular circumstances attending
the birth and history of James Stewart of Ardvoirlich,
by whose hand the unfortunate nobleman fell.

Our subject leads us to talk of deadly feuds, and we
must begin with one still more ancient than that to which
our story relates. During the reign of James IV. a great
feud between the powerful families of Drummond and
Murray divided Perthshire. The former, being the
most numerous and powerful, cooped up eight score of
the Murrays in the kirk of Monivaird, and set fire to it.
The wives and the children of the ill-fated men, who had
also found shelter in the church, perished by the same
conflagration. One man, named David Murray, escaped
by the humanity of one of the Drummonds, who received
him in his arms as he leaped from amongst the flames,
As King James IV. ruled with more activity than most
of his predecessors, this cruel deed was severely revenged,
and several of the perpetrators were beheaded at Stirling.rae

WAVERLEY NOVELS.

In consequence of the prosecution against his clan, the
Drummond by whose assistance David Murray had
escaped, fled to Ireland, until, by means of the person
whose life he had saved, he was permitted-to return to
Scotland, where he and his descendants were distinguished
by the name of Drummond Eirinich, or Ernoch, that 18,
Drummond of Ireland; and the same title was. bestowed
on their estate.

The Drummond-Ernoch of James the Sixth’s time was
a king’s forester in the forest of Glenartney, and chanced
to be employed there in search of venison about the year
1588, or early in 1589. This forest was adjacent to the
chief haunts of the MacGregors, or a particular race of
them, known by the title of MacKagh or Children of the
Mist. They considered the forester’s hunting in their
vicinity as an aggression, or perhaps they had him at
feud, for the apprehension or slaughter of some of their
own name, or for some similar reason. ‘This tribe of
MacGregors were outlawed and persecuted, as the reader
may see in the Introduction to Rob Roy; and every
man’s hand being against them, their hand was of
course directed against every man. In short, they sur-
prised and slew Drummond-Ernoch, cut off his head, and
carried it with them, wrapt in the corner of one of their
plaids.

In the full exultation of vengeance, they stopped at the
house of Ardvoirlich and demanded refreshment, which
the lady, a sister of the murdered Drummond-Ernoch,
(her husband being absent,) was afraid or unwilling to
refuse. . She caused bread and cheese to be placed before
them, and gave directions fer more substantial refresh-
ments to be prepared. While she was absent with this
sospitable intention, the barbarians placed the head of her¥

INTRODUCTION TO A LEGEND OF MONTROSE. 920Y

brother on the table, filling the
cheese, and bidding him eat,

had eaten in that house. The poor woman returning

and beholding this dreadful s; ight, shrieked aloud, and
fled into the woods, where

mouth with bread and
for many a merry meal he

, as described in the romance,
she roamed a raving maniac, and for

some time secreted
her:elf from all] living society.

Some remaining mstine-
tive feeling brought her at length

1 to steal a glance from a
distance at the maidens

while they milked the cows,
which being observed, her husb: and, Ardvoirlich, had her
conveyed back to hex * home, and detained her there till
she gave birth to a cl hild, of whom she had been pregnant ;
after which she was observed gradually to recover her
mental faculties.

Meanwhile the outlaws had carried to the utmost their
insults against the 1 ‘egal authority, which inde sed, as exer-
cised, they had little reason for respecting. They bore
the same bloody trophy, which they had so savagely
exhibited to the ] ady of Ardvoirlich, into the old church

J
where the Laird of Ma eGregor and _all his. clan, being
convened for the purpose, laid their hands successively
on the dead man’s head, and swore, in heathenish and
barbarous manner, to defend the author of the deed.

of Balquidder, nearly in the centre of their country,

This fierce and vindictive combination gave the authovr’s
late and lamented friend, Sir Alexander Boswell ll, Bart.,
subject for a spirited poem, entitled “Clan Apine’s
Vow,” which was printed, but not, I believe, published, in
fork,”

The fact is ascertained by a proclamation from the
Privy Council, dated 4th February, 1589, directing let-
lers of fire and- sword against the MacGregors.t ‘This

* See Appendix No I. p. 218. t See Appendix No. II. p. 219
VOL. XI. 14210 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

   
  
 
 
 
  
   
 
 
 
  
   
 
 
 
 
  
  
  
   
  
  
  
   
  
  
 
  
  

fearful commission was executed with uncommon fury.
The late excellent John Buchanan of Cambusmore shewed
the author some correspondence between his ancestor, the
Laird of Buchanan, and Lord Drummond, about sweep-
1in valleys with their followers, on a fixed time

ing certé
eet revenge for the death

and rendezvous, and “ taking sw
of their cousin, Drummond-Ernoch.” In spite of all,
however, that could be done, the devoted tribe of Mac-
Gregor still bred up survivors to sustain and to inflict
new cruelties and injuries.”

Meanwhile young James Stewart of Ardvoirlich grew
up to manhood uncommonly tall, strong, and active, with
such power in the grasp of his hand in particular, as
could force the blood from beneath the nails of the per-
sons who contended with him in this teat of strength.
His temper was moody, fierce, and irascible ; yet he must
have had some ostensible good qualities, as he was oreatly
beloved by Lord Kilpont, the eldest son of the Earl of
Airth and Menteith.

This gallant young nobleman joined Montrose in the
setting up his standard in 1644, just before the deci-
sive battle at Tippermuir, on the 1st September in that
year. At that time, Stewart of Ardvoirlich shared the
confidence of the young Lord by day, and his bed by

* I embrace the opportunity given me by a second mention of this
tribe to notice an error, which imputes to an individual named Ciar
Mohr Mac-Gregor the slaughter of the students at the battle of Glen-
f-uin. J am informed from the authority of John Gregorson, Esq.,
that the chieftain so named was dead nearly a century before the bat-
tle in question, and could not, therefore, have done the cruel action
mentioned. The mistake does not rest with me, as I disclaimed being
responsible for the tradition while I quoted it, but with vulgar tame,
which is always disposed to ascribe remarkable actions to a remark-
able name.-—See the erroneous passage, Rob Roy, Introduction, p. 18

end so soft sleep the offended phantom of Dugald Ciar Mohr.INTRODUGTION TO A CEGEND OF MONTROSE. 211

night, when, about four or five days after the battle, Ard-
voirlich, either from a fit of sudden fury or deep malice
long entertained against his unsuspecting friend, stabbed
Lord Kilpont to the heart, and escaped from the camp
of Montrose, having killed a sentinel who attempted to
detain him. Bishop Guthrie gives as a reason for this
villainous action, that Lord Kilpont had rejected with
abhorrence a proposal of Ardvoirlich to assassinate Mon-
trose. But it does not appear that there is any authority
for this charge, which rests on mere suspicion. Ard-
voirlich, the assassin, certainly did fly to the Cove-
nanters, and was employed and promoted by them. He
obtained a pardon for the slaughter of Lord Kilpont, con-
firmed by Parliament in 1644, and was made Major of
Argyle’s regiment in 1648. Such are the facts of the tale
here given as a Legend of Montrose’s wars. The reader
will find they are considerably altered in the fictitious
narrative.

The author has endeavoured to enliven the tragedy of
the tale by the introduction of a personage proper to
the time and country. In this he has been held by
excellent judges to have been in some degree successful.
The contempt of commerce entertained by young men
having some pretence to gentility,“the poverty of the
country of Scotland, the national disposition to: wandering
and to adventure, all conduced to lead the Scots abroad
mtc the military service of countries which were at war
with each other. ‘They were distinguished on the Conti-
nent by their bravery ; but in adopting the trade of mer
cenary soldiers, they necessarily injured their national
character. The tincture of learning, which most of them
possessed, degenerated into paoainy 5 their good breed:
ing became mere ceremonial; their fear of disboncur no91D WAVERLEY NOVELS.

longer kept them aloof from that which was really wu-
worthy, but was made to depend on certain punctilious
observances totally apart from that which was in itself
deserving of praise. A cavalier of honour, in search of
his fortune, might, for example, change his service as he
would his shirt; fight like the doughty Captain Dalgetty,
in one cause after another, without regard to the justice
of the quarrel, and might plunder the peasantry sub-
jected to him by the fate of war with the most unrelent-
ing rapacity ; but he must beware how he sustained the
slightest reproach, even from a clergyman, if it had regard
to neglect on the score of duty. The following occurrence
will prove the truth of what I mean :—

“ Here I must not forget the memory of one preacher,
Master William Forbesse a preacher. for souldiers, yea,
and a captaine in neede to leade souldiers on a sood
occasion, being full of courage, with discretion and good
conduct, beyond some captaines | have knowne, that
were not so capable as he. At this time he not onely
prayed for us, but went on with us, to remarke, as I
thinke, men’s carriage; and having found a sergeant
neglecting his dutie and his honour at such a time,
(whose name I will not expresse,) having chidden him,
did promise to reveal him unto me, as he did after taeir
service. The sergeant being called before me, and ac-
cused, did deny his accusation, alleaging, if he were no
pastour that had alleaged it, he would not lie under
the injury. The preacher offered to fight with him, [in
proof | that it was truth he had spoken of him; where-
upon I cashiered the sergeant, and gave his place to a
worthier, called Mungo Gray, a gentleman of good worth,
and of much courage. The sergeant being cashiered,
never called Master William to account, for which he wasINYRODUCTION TO A LEGEND OF MONTROSz. 213

évill thought of; so ‘that he retired home, and quit the
warres.”

The above quotation is taken from a work which the
nuthor repeatedly consulted while composing the follow-
ing sheets, and which is in great measure written in the
bumour of Captain Dugald Dalgetty. It bears the fol-
lowing formidable title :—“ Monro his Expedition with
the worthy Scots Regiment, called MacKeye’s Regiment,
levied in August, 1626, by Sir Donald MacKeye Lord
Rees Colonel, for his Majestie’s service of Denmark, and
reduced after the battle of Nerling, in September 1634,

=

at Wormes, in the Palz. Discharged in several duties
and observations of service, first, under the magnanimous
King of Denmark, during his wars against the Empire ;
afterwards under the invincible King of Sweden, during
his Majestie’s lifetime; and since under the Director-
General, the Rex-Chancellor Oxensterne, and his Gen-
erals: Collected and gathered together at spare hours, by
Colonel Robert Monro, as First-Lieutenant under the
said Regiment to the noble and worthy Captain Thomas
MacKenzie of Kildon, brother to the noble Lord, the Lord
Karl of Seaforth, for the use of all noble Cavaliers favour-
ing the laudable profession of arms. To which is annexed,
the Abridgment of Exercise, and divers Practical Obser«
vations for the Younger Officer, his consideration. End-
ing with the Soldier’s Meditations on going on Service.”
—London, 16387.

Another worthy of the same school, and nearly the
zame views of the military character, is Sir James Tur-
ner, a soldier of fortune, who rose to considerable rank
m tke reign of Charles II., had a command in Galloway
and Dumfries-shire, for the suppression of conventicles,

er the tnoproent Coverar fen:
ane was made nrisoner by tne insurgent Covenanter:
>WAVERLEY NOVELS.

in that rising which was followed by the battle of Pent-
land. Sir James is a person even of superior pretensions
to Lieutenant-Colonel Monro, having written a military
Treatise on the Pike Exercise, called “ Pallas Armata.”
Moreover, he was educated at Glasgow College, though
he escaped to become an Ensign in the German wars,
instead of taking his degree of Master of Arts at that
learned seminary.

In latter times, he was author of several discourses on
historical and literary subjects, from which the Bannatyne
Club have extracted and printed such passages as Con-
cern his Life and Times, under the title of “ Sir James
Turner’s Memoirs.” From this curious book I extract
the following passage, as an example of how Captain Dal-
eetty might have recorded such an incident had he kept
a journal; or, to give it a more just character, it is such
as the genius of De Foe would have devised, to give the
minute and distinguishing features of truth to a fictitious
narrative :—

“ Heere I will set doun ane accident befell me; for
thogh it was not a very strange one, yet it was a very
od one in all its parts. My tuo brigads lay in a village
within halfe a mile of Applebie ; my own quarter was in
a gentleman’s house, who was a Ritmaster, and at that
time with Sir Marmaduke ; his wife keepd her chamber,
readie to be brought to bed. The castle being over, and
Lambert farre enough, I resolved to goe to bed everie
night, haveing had fatigue enough before. The first
night I sleepd well enough; and riseing nixt morning, I
misd one linnen stockine, one halfe silke one, and one
poothose, the accoustrement under a boote for one leg ;
neither could they be found for any search. Being pro-
vided of more of the same kind, I made myselte reddieINTRODUCTION TO A LEGEND OF MONTROSE. 215

and rode to the head-quarters. At my returne, I could
heare no news of my stockins. ‘That night I went te
bed, and nixt morning found myselfe just so used ; miss-
ing the three stockins for one leg onlie, the other three
being left intire as they were the day before. A nar-
rower search than the first was made, bot without suc-
cesse. I had yet in reserve one paire of whole stockings,
and a paire of boothose, greater than the former. These
I put on my legs. The third morning I found the same
usage, the stockins for one leg onlie left me. It was
time for me then, and my servants too, to imagine it
must be rats that had shard my stockins so inequallie
with me; and this the mistress of the house knew well
enough, bot wold not tell it me. The roome, which was
a low parlour, being well searched with candles, the top
of my great boothose was found at a hole, in which they
had drawne all the rest. I went abroad and orderd the
boards to be raised, to see how the rats had disposd of
miy moveables. ‘The mistress sent a servant of her oune
to be present at this action, which she knew concernd
her. One board being bot a litle opend, a litle boy of
mine thrust in his hand, and fetchd with him foure and
tuentie old peeces of gold, and one angell. The servant
of the house affirmed it appertaind to his mistres. “The
boy bringing the gold to me, I went immediatlie to the
gentlewoman’s chamber, and told her, it was probable
Lambert haveing quarterd in that house, as indeed he
had, some of his servants might have hid that gold; and
if so, it was lawfullie mine; bot if she could make it
appeare it belongd to her, I sould-immediatlie give it
her. The poore gentlewoman told me with many teares
that her husband being none of the frugallest men, (and
indeed he was a spendthrift,) she had hid that goldPERE

 

B16 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

without his knowledge, to make use of it as she had occa
sion, especiallie when she lay in; and conjured me, as I
lovd the King, (for whom her husband and she had suf-
fered much,) not to detaine her gold. She said, if there
was either more or lesse than foure and tuentie whole
peeces, and two halfe ones, it sould be none of hers; and
that they were put by her ma red velvet purse. After
I had given her assurance of her gold, a new search 1s
made, the other angell is found, the velvet purse all
enawd in bits, as my stockins were, and the gold instant~
lie restord to the gentlewoman. JI have often heard that
the eating or gnawing of cloth by rats is ominous, and
portends some mischance to fall on these to whom the
cloths belong. I thank God I was never addicted to such
divinations, or heeded them. It is true, that more mis-
fortunes then one fell on me shortlie after; bot I am sure
I could have better foreseene them myselfe then rats or
any such vermine, and yet did it not. I have heard in-
deed many fine stories told of rats, how they abandon
houses and ships, when the first are to be burnt, and the
second dround. Naturalists say they are very sagacious
creatures, and I beleeve they are so ; bot I shall never be
of the opinion they can foresee future contingencies, which
I suppose the divell himselfe can neither forknow nor for-
tell ; these being things which the Almightie hath keepd
hidden in the bosome of his divine prescience. And
whither the great God hath preordained or predestinated
these things, which to us are contingent, to fall out by ane
uncontrollable and unavoidable necessitie, is a question
not yet decided.” *

In quoting these ancient authorities, I must not forget
the more modern sketch of a Scottish soldier of the old

* Sir James Turner’s Memoirs, Bannatyne Edition, p. 59.INTRODUCTION TO A LEGEND OF MONTROSE. ?17

fashion, by a master hand, in the character of Lesmaha-
gow;since the existence of that doughty captain alone
must deprive the present author of all claim to absolute
originality. Still Dalgetty, as the production of his own
fancy, has been so far a favourite with its parent, that he
has fallen into the error of assigning to the Captain too
prominent a part in the story. This is the opinion of a
eritic who encamps on the highest pinnacles of literature ;
and the author is so far fortunate in having incurred his
censure, that it gives his modesty a decent apology for
quoting the praise, which it would have ill-befitted him to
bring forward in an unmingled state. The passage
occurs in the Edinburgh Review, No. 55, containing a
criticism on Ivanhoe :—

“There is too much, perhaps, of Dalgetty,—or, rather,
he engrosses too great a proportion of the work,—for, in
himself, we think he is uniformly entertaining; and the
author has nowhere shewn more affinity to that matchless
spirit who could bring out his Falstaffs and his Pistols, in
act after act, and play after play, and exercise them every
time with scenes of unbounded loquacity, without either
exhausting their humour, or varying a note from its char-
acteristic tone, than in his large and reiterated specimens
of the eloquence of the redoubted Ritt-master. The
general idea of the character is familiar to our comic

 

dramatists after the Restoration—and may be said in
some measure to be compounded of Captain Fluellen and
Bobadil; but the ludicrous combination of the soldado
with the divinity student of Mareschal College is entirely
original; and the mixture of talent, selfishness, courage,
coarseness, and conceit, was never so happily exemplified.
Numerous as his speeches are, there is not one that is not
vharacteristic—and, to our taste, divertingly ludicrous.”° At mene 2

SLOPE Rt

WAVERLEY NOVELS.

APPENDIX.

No. I.

Tue scarcity of my late friend’s poem may be an
excuse for adding the spirited conclusion of Clan Aipin’s
Vow. The Clan Gregor has met in the ancient Church
of Balquidder. The head of Drummond-Ernoch is
placed on the altar, covered for a time with the banner
of the tribe. The Chief of the tribe advances to the
altar :-—

“ And pausing, on the banner gazed:
Then cried in scorn, his finger raised,
‘This was the boon of Scotland’s king;’
And, with a quick and angry fling,
Tossing the pageant screen away,
The dead man’s head before him lay.
Unmoved he scann’d the visage 0’ er,
The clotted locks were dark with gore,
The features with convulsion grim,
The eyes contorted, sunk, and dim,
But unappall‘d, in angry mood,
With lowering brow, unmoved he stood,
Upon the head his bared right hand
He laid, the other grasp’d his brand:
Then kneeling, cried, ‘To Heaven, I swear
This deed of death I own, and share;
As truly, fully mine, as though
This my right hand had dealt the blow;
Come then, our foemen, one, come all;
lf to revenge this caitiff’s fallINTRODUCTION TO A LEGEND OF MONTROSE 21Y

It has been disputed whether the Children of the Mist ae
were actual MacGregors, or whether they were not out-
laws, named MacDonald, belonging to Ardnamurchan.
The following act of the Privy Council seems to decide
the question :—

“The same day the Lords of Secret Council being

    
 
  
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

One blade is bared, one bow is drawn,
Mine everlasting peace I pawn,

To claim from them, or claim from him,
In retribution, limb for limb.

In sudden fray, or open strife

This steel shall render life for life.’

*“* He ceased; and at his beckoning nod,

The clansmen to the altar trod;

And not a whisper breathed around,

And nought was heard of mortal sound,

Save from the clanking arms they bore,

That rattled on the marble floor;

And each, as he approach’d in haste,

Upon the scalp his right hand placed;

With livid lip, and gather’d brow,

Hach utter’d, in his turn, the vow.

Fierce Malcolm watch’d the passing scene,
And search'd them through with glances keen 5
Then dash’d a tear-drop from his eye;

Unbid it came—he knew not why.

Exulting high, he towering stood:

‘Kinsmen,’ he cried, ‘of Alpin’s blood,

And worthy of Clan Alpin’s name,

Unstain’d by cowardice and shame,

E’en do, spare nocht, in time of ill

Shall be Clan Alpin’s legend still!’

 

msseenn

No. II.

“ KDINBURGH, 4th February, 1589.alex.

920 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

erediblie informed of ye cruel and mischeivous proveed
ing of ye wicked Clangrigor, so lang continueing in blood,
slaughters, herships, manifest reifts, and stouths committed
upon his Hieness’ peaceable and good subjects ; inhabit-
ing ye countries ewest ye brays of ye Highlands, thir
money years bygone; but specially heir after ye cruel
murder of umqll Jo. Drummond of Drummoneyryuch,
his Majesties proper tennant, and ane of his fosters of
Glenartney, committed upon ye day of last
bypast, be certain of ye saic clan, be ye council and de-
termination of ye haill, avow and to defend ye authors
yrof qoever wald persew for revenge of the same, qll ye
said Jo. was occupied in seeking of venison to his Hie-
ness, at commond of Pat. Lord Drummond, stewart of
Stratharne, and principal forrester of Glenartney; the
Queen, his Majesties dearest spouse, being yn shortlie
looked for to arrive in this realm. Likeas, after ye mur-
der committed, ye authors yrof cutted off ye said umqll
Jo. Drummond’s head, and carried the same to the Laird
of M‘Grigor, who, and the haill surname of M‘Grigors,
purposely conveined upon the Sunday yrafter, at the Kirk
of Buchyuhidder; qr they caused ye said umqll John’s
head to be pnted to ym, and yr avowing ye sd murder to
have been committed by yr communion, council, and de-
termination, laid yr hands upon the pow, and in eithnik,
and barbarous manner, swear to defend ye authors of ye
sd murder, in maist proud contempt of our sovra Lord
and his authoritie, and in evil example to others wicked
limmaris todo ye like, give ys sall be suffered to remain
unpunished.”

Then follows a commission of the Earls of Huntly,
Argyle, Athole, Montrose, Pat. Lord Drummond, Ja.
Commendator of Incheffray, And. Campbel of Lochinnel,INTRODUCTION TO A LEGEND OF MONTROSE. 222

ve ‘ ay * +

Duncan Campbel of Ardkinglas, Lauchlane M‘Intosh of
Dunnauchtane, Sir Jo. Murrya of Tullibarden, knt., Geo
By | 6 € , at T es ‘ ¢ 2 °
Buchanan of that Ik, and And. M‘Farlane of Ariquocher,
to search for and apprehend Alaster M‘Grigor of Glenstre,
(and a number of others nominatim,) “and all others of
the said Clangrigor, or ye assistars, culpable of the said
odious murther, or of thift, reset of thift, herships, and
sornings, qrever they may be apprehended. And if they
refuse to be taken, or flees to strengths and houses, to
pursue and assege them with fire and sword; and this
commission to endure for the space of three years.”

a - : ro:

Such was the system of police in 1089; and such the
state of Scotland nearly thirty years after the Reforma-
tion.

POSTSCRIPT.

WHILE these pages were passing through the press, the
author-received a letter from the present Rebert Stewart
of Ardvoirlich, favouring him with the account of the
unhappy slaughter of Lord Kilpont, differmg from, and
more probable than, that given by Bishop Wishart, whose
narrative infers either insanity or the blackest treachery
on the part of James Stewart of Ardvoirlich, the ancestor
of the present family of that name. It is but fair to give
the entire communication as received from my respected
correspondent, which is more minute than the histories
af the period.

“ Although I have not the honour of being personally
known to you, I hope you will excuse the liberty I nowBice

sens

DoD WAVERLEY NOVELS.

take, in addressing you on the subject of a transaction
more than once alluded to by you, in which an ances:
tor of mine was unhappily concerned. I allude to the
slaughter of Lord Kilpont, son of the Earl of Airth and
Monteith, in 1644, by James Stewart of Ardvoirlich. <As
the cause of this unhappy event, and the quarrel which
led to it have never been correctly stated in any history
of the period in which it took place, I am induced, in
consequence of your having, in the second series of your
admirable Tales on the History of Scotland, adopted
Wishart’s version of the transaction, and being aware
that your having done so will stamp it with an authen-
ticity which it does not merit, and with a view, as far as
possible, to do- justice to the memory of my unfortunate
ancestor, to send you the account of this affair as it has
been handed down in the family.

“James Stewart of Ardvoirlich, who lived in the early
part of the 17th century, and who was the unlucky cause
of the slaughter of Lord Kilpont, as before mentioned,
was appointed to the command of one of several indepen-
dent companies raised in the Highlands at the commence-
ment of the troubles in the reign of Charles I.; another
of these companies was under the command of Lord
Kilpont, and a strong intimacy, strengthened by a distant
relationship, subsisted between them. When Montrose
raised the royal standard, Ardvoirlich was one of the first
to declare for him, and is said to have been a principal
means of bringing over Lord Kilpont to the same cause;
and they accordingly, along with Sir Jehn Drummond and
their respective followers, joined Montrose, as recorded by
Wishart, at Buchanty. While they served together, so
strong was their intimacy, that they lived and slept in the
same tentINTRODUCTION TO A’ LEGEND OF MONTROSE. 223

“In the meantime, Montrose had been joined by the
Irish, under the command of Alexander Macdonald: thesé,
on their march to jom Montrose, had committed some ex
cesses on lands belonging to Ardvoirlich, which lay in the
liné of their march from the west coast. Of this Ard-
voirlich complained to Montrose, who, probably wishing
as much as possible to conciliate his new allies, treated it
in rather an evasive manner. Ardvoirlich, who was a
man of violent. passions, having failed to receive such
satisfaction as he required, challenged Macdonald to
single combat. Before they met, however, Montrose, on
the information and by advice, as it is said, of Kilpont,
Jaid them both under arrest. Montrose, seeing the evils
of such a feud at such a critical time, effected a sort of
reconciliation between them, and forced them to shake
hands in his presence ; when, it was said, that Ardvoirlich,
who was a very powerful man, took such a hold of Mae-
donald’s hand as to make the blood start from his fingers.
Still, it would appear, Ardvoirlich was by no means
reconciled.

“A few days after the battle of Tippermuir, when
Montrose with his army was encamped at Collace, an
entertainment was given by him to his officers, in honour
of the victory he had obtained, and Kilpont and his com-
rade Ardvoirlich were of the party. After returning to
their quarters, Ardvoirlich, wHo seemed still to brood over
his quarrel with Macdonald, and being heated with drink,
begun to blame Lord Kilpont for the part he had taken
m preventing his obtaining redress, and reflecting against
Montrose for not allowing him what he considered proper
reparation. Kilpont of course defended the conduct of
himself and his relative Montrose, till them argument
same to high words, and finally, from the state they were—

Re ee

  

B24 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

both in, by an easy transition, to blows, when Ardvoirlich,
with his dirk, struck Kilpont dead on the spot. He imme-
diately fled, and under the cover of a thick mist escaped
pursuit, leaving his eldest son Henry, who had been mor-
tally wounded at Tippermuir, on his death-bed.

“His followers immediately withdrew from Mcntrose,
und no course remained for him but to throw himself inte
the arms of the opposite faction,-by whom he was well
received. His name is frequently mentioned in Leslie’s
campaigns, and on more than one occasion he is men-
lioned as having afforded protection to several of his
former friends through his interest with Leslie, when the
King’s cause became desperate.

“The foregoing account of this unfortunate transaction,
I am well aware, differs materially from the account given
by Wishart, who coin that Stewart had laid a plot for
the assassination of Montrose, and that he murdered Lord
Kilpont in consequence of his refusal to participate in his
design. Now, I may be allowed to remark, that besides
Wishart having always been regarded as a partial his-
torian, and very questionable authority on any subject
connected with the motives or conduct: of those who dif-
fered from him in opinion, that even had Stewart formed
such a design, Kilpont, from his name and connexions,
was likely to be the very last man of whom Stewart
would choose to make a confidant and accomplice. On
the other hand, the above account, though never, that I
um aware, before hinted at, has been-a constant tradition
in the family ; and, from the comparative recent date of
the transaction, and the sources from which the tradition
has been derived, I have no reason to doubt its perfect
authenticity. It was most circumstantially detailed
above, given to my father, Mr. Stewart, now of Ard-INTRODUCTION TO A LEGEND. OF MONTROSE. 225

vt

voirlich, many years ago, by a man nearly connected with
the family, who lived to the age of 100.° This man was
A great-grandson of James Stewart, by a natural son
John, of whom many stories are still current in this coun-
try, under his appellation of John dhu Mhor. This John
was with his father at the time. and of course was a wite
ness of the whole transaction ; he lived to a considerable
iime after the Revolution, and it was from him that my
father’s informant, who was a man before his orandfather
John dhu Mhor’s death, received the information as above
stated,

“J have many apologies to offer for trespassing so long
on your patience; but I felt a natural desire, if possible,
to correct what I conceive to be a groundless imputation
on the memory of my ancestor, before it shall come to be
considered as a matter of history. That he was a man
of violent passions and singular temper, I do not pretend
to deny, as many traditions still current in this country
amply verify; but that he was capable of forming a
design to assassinate Montrose, the whole tenor of his
former conduct and principles contradiet. That he was
obliged to join the opposite party, was merely a matter
of safety, while Kilpont had so many powerful friends
and connexions able and ready to avenge his death.

“J have only to add, that you have my full permission
to make what use of this communication you please, and
eiiher to reject it altogether, or allow it such credit as
you think it deserves; and I shall be ready at all times
to furnish you with any farther information on this subject
which you may require, and which it may be in my power
(o afford.

“ ARDVOIRLICH, 15th January, 1880.”

WOL. XI. 15Z2b WAVERLEY NOVELS.

The publication of a statement so particular, and
probably so correct, is a debt due to the memory of James

Stewart; the victim, it. would seem, of his own violent
passions, but perhaps incapable of an act of premeditated

treachery.
A 3BOT@FORD, Ist August, 1880.INTRODUCTION TO A LEGEND OF MONTROSE 227

—_

INTRODUCTION TO THE FIRST EDITION,
(1819.)

SERGEANT More M‘AtpPIn was, during his residence
among us, one of the most honoured inhabitants of Gan-
dercleugh. No one thought of disputing his title to the
great leathern chair on the “ cosiest side of the chimney,”
in the common room of the Wallace Arms, on a Saturday
evening. No less would our sexton, John Duirward,
have held it an unlicensed intrusion, to suffer any one to
induct himself into the corner of the left-hand pew
nearest to the pulpit, which the Sergeant regularly occu-
pied on Sundays. There he sat, his blue invalid uniform
brushed with the most scrupulous accuracy. ‘Two medals
of merit displayed at his button-hole, as well as the empty
sleeve which should have been occupied by his right arm,
bore evidence of his hard and honourable service. His
weather-beaten features, his grey hair tied’in a thin queue -
in the military fashion of former days, and the right side
of his head a- little turned up, the better to catch the
sound of the clergyman’s voice, were all. marks of his
profession and infirmities. Beside him sat his sister
Janet, a little neat old woman, with a Highland curch
and tartan plaid, watching the very looks of her brother,
to her the greatest man upon earth, and actively looking
put for him, in his silver-clasped Bible, the texts which

the minister quoted or expounded.228 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

I believe it was the respect that was universally
paid to this worthy veteran by all ranks in Gander
cleugh, whicn induced him to choose our village for
his residence, for such was by no means his original
intention.

Ile had risen to the rank of sergeant-major of artillery,
by hard service in various quarters of the world, and
was reckoned one of the most tried and trusty men of the
Scotch Train. <A ball, which shattered his arm in @
Peninsular campaigy, at length procured him an honour-
able discharge, with an allowance from Chelsea, and a
handsome gratuity from the patriotic fund. Moreover,
Sergeant More M‘Alpin had been prudent as_ well
as valiant; and, from prize-money and. savings, had
become master of a small sum in the three per cent
consols.

He retired with the purpose of enjoying this income
in the wild Highland glen in which, when a boy, he had
herded black cattle and goats, ere the roll of the drum
had made him cock his bonnet an inch higher, and follow
its music for nearly forty years. ‘To-his recollection, this
retired spot was unparalleled in beauty by the richest
scenes he had visited in his wanderings. Even the

Happy Valley of Rasselas would have sunk into nothing

 

upon the comparison. He came—he revisited the loved

scene; it was but a sterile glen, surrounded with. rude

crags, and traversed by a northern torrent. This was
not the worst. ‘The fires had been quenched upon thirty
hearths—of the cottage of his fathers he could but dis-
linguish a few rude stones—the language was almost
extinguished—the ancient race from which he boasted
his descent had found a refuge beyond the Atlantic. One

pouthland farmer, three grey-plaided shepherds, and_ sixINTRC DUCTION TO A LEGEND OF MONTROSE. 229

q x Y AWN « " t r . > : :
dogs, now tenanted the whole glen, which in his youth
had maintained in content, if not in competence, upwards
of two hundred inhabitants.

In the house of the new tenant, Sergeant M‘Alpin

q pee ee 5 : Vy ‘ ee

found, however, an.unexpected source of pleasure, and a
means of employing his social affections. His sister
Janet had fortunately entertained so strong a persuasion
that her brother would one day return, that she had
refused to accompany her kinsfolk upon their emigration.
Nay, she had consented, though not without a feeling of
degradation, to take service with the intruding Lowlande2,
who, though a Saxon, she said, had proved a kind man tu

her. This unexpected meeting with his sister seemed a
cure for all the disappointments which it had been Ser-
geant More’s lot to encounter, although it was not without
a reluctant tear that he heard told, as a Highland woman
alone could tell it, the story of the expatriation vf his
kinsmen.

She narrated at great length the vain offers they had
made of advanced rent, the payment of which must have
reduced them to the extremity of poverty, which they
were yet contented to face, for permission to live and die
on their native soil. Nor did Janet forget the portents
which had announced the departure of the Celtic race,
and the arrival of the strangers. For two years previous
to the emigration, when the night wind howled down the
pass of Balachra, its notes were distinctly modelled to
the tune of “Ha til mi tulidh,’ (“We return no more,’ )
with which the emigrants usually bid farewell to their
native shores. ‘The uncouth cries of the Southland shep-
herds, and the barking of their dogs, were often heard in
the midst of the hills long before their actual arrival.
A bard. the last. of his race,, had commemorated thePQA niet oF

  

230 WAVERLEY NOVELS.
expulsion of the natives of the glen in a tune, whieli
brought tears into the aged eyes of the veteran, and of
which the first stanza may be thus rendered: ~

Wo, wo, son of the Lowlander,

Why wilt thou leave thine own bonny border?
Why comes thou hither, disturbing the Highlander,
Wasting the glen that was once in fair order!

What added to Sergeant More M‘Alpin’s distress upon
the occasion was, that the chief by whom this change had
been effected, was, by tradition and common cpinion, held
to represent the ancient leaders and fathers of the ex-
pelled fugitives ; and it had hitherto been one of Sergeant
More’s principal subjects of pride to prove, by genea-
logical deduction, in what degree of kindred he stood to
this personage. A woful change was now wrought in his
sentiments towards him.

“T cannot curse him,” he said, as he rose and strode
through the room, when Janet’s narrative was finished—
“JT will not curse him; he is the descendant and repre-
sentative of my fathers. But never shall mortal man
hear me name his name again.” And he kept his word;
for, until his dying day, no man heard him mention his
selfish and hard-hearted chieftain.

After giving a day to sad recollections, the hardy spirit
which had carried him through so many dangers manne@
the Sergeant’s bosom against this cruel disappointment.
“He would go,” he said, “to Canada to his kinsfolk,
where they had named a Transatlantic valley after the
glen of their fathers. Janet,” he said, “should kilt her

coats like a leaguer lady ; d—n the distance! it was a

 

flea’s leap to the voyages and marches he had made on a
ilighter occasion.”INTRODUCTION TO A LEGEND OF MONTROSE. 231

With this purpose he left the Highlands, and came
with his sister as far as Gandercleugh, on his way to
Glasgow, to take a passage to Canada. But winter was
now set in, and as he thought it advisable to wait for a
spring passage, when the St. Lawrence should be open, he
settled among us for the few months of his stay in Britain.
As we said before, the respectable old man met with defer-
ence and attention from all ranks of society; and when
spring returned, he was so satisfied with his quarters,
that he did not renew the purpose of his voyage. Janet
was afraid of the sea, and he himself felt the infirmities
of age and hard service more than he had at first
expected. And, as he confessed to the clergyman, and
my worthy principal, Mr. Cleishbotham, “ it was better
staying with kend friends, than going farther and faring
worse.”

He therefore established himself and his domicile at
Gandercleugh, to the great satisfaction, as we have
already said, of all its inhabitants, to whom he became,
in respect of military intelligence, and able commen-
taries upon the newspapers, gazettes, and bulletins, a
very oracle, explanatory of all martial events, past,
present, or to come.

It is true, the Sergeant had his inconsistencies. He
was a steady jacobite, his father and his four uncles having
been out in the forty-five; butehe was a no less steady
adherent of King George, in whose service he had made
his little fortune, and lost three brothers; so that you
were in equal danger to displease him, in terming Prince
Charles the Pretender, or by saying anything derogatory
to the dignity of King George. Farther, it must not be
denied, that when the day of receiving his dividends came
round, the Sergeant was apt to tarry longer at the WallacePrem gRREN:

232 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

Arms of an evening than was consistent with strict tem-
perance, or indeed with his worldly interest; for upon
these occasions, his compotators sometimes contrived to
flatter his partialities by singing jacobite songs and drink-
ing confusion to Bonaparte, and the health of the Duke
of Wellington, until the Sergeant was not only flattered
into paying the whole reckoning, but occasionally induced
to lend small sums to his interested companions. After
such sprays, as he called them, were over, and his temper
once more cool, he seldom failed to thank God, and the
Duke of York, who had made it much more difficult for
an old soldier to ruin himself by his folly, than had been
the case in his younger days.

It was not on such occasions that I made a part of
Sergeant More M‘Alpin’s society. But often, when my
leisure would permit, I used to seek him on what he
ealled his morning and evening parade, on which, when
the weather was fair, he appeared as regularly as if sum-
moned by tuck of drum. His morning walk was beneath
the elms in the churchyard ; “ for death,” he said, “had
been his next door neighbour for so many years, that he had
no apology for dropping the acquaintance.” His evening
promenade was on the bleaching-green by the river side,
where he was sometimes to be seen on an open bench,
with spectacles on nose, conning over the newspapers te
a circle of village politicians, explaining military terms,
and aiding the comprehension of his hearers by lines
drawn on the ground with the end of his rattan. On
other occasions, he was surrounded by a bevy of school-
boys, whom he sometimes drilled to the manual, and
sometimes, with less approbation on the part of their
parents, instructed in the mystery of artificial fireworks;
tor in the case of public rejoicings, the Sergeant was{INTRODUCTION TO A LEGEND OF MONTROSE. 2338

pyrotechnist (as the Encyclopedia calls it) to the village
ot Gandercleugh.

It was in his morning walk that I most frequently met
with the veteran. And I can hardly yet look upon the
village foot-path, overshadowed by the row of lofty elms,
without thinking I see his upright form advancing towards
me with measured step, and his cane advanced, ready to
pay me the military salute—But he is dead, and sleeps,

with his faithful Janet, under the third of those very

trees, counting from the stile at the west corner cf the
churchyard.

The delight which I had in Sergeant M‘Alpin’s con-
versation, related not only to his own adventures, of
which he had encountered many in the course of a wan-
dering life, but also to his recellection of numerous
Highland traditions, in which his youth had been in-
structed by his parents, and of which he would in after
life have deemed it a kind of heresy to question the
authenticity. Many of these belonged to the wars of
Montrose, in which some of the Sergeant’s ancestry had,
it seems, taken a distinguished part. It has happened,
that, although these civi: commotions reflect the highest
honour upon the Highlanders, being mdeed the first
occasion upon which they showed themselves superior,
or even equal to their Low-country neighbours in mili-
tary encounters, they have been less commemorated
among them than any one would have expected, judging
from the abundance of traditions which they have pre:
served upon less interesting subjects. It was, theretore,
with great pleasure, that I extracted from my military
fsiend some curious particulars respecting that time ; they
are mixed with that measure of the wild and wonderful
which belongs to the period and the narrator, but which IDak WAVERLEY NOVELS.

Jo not in the least object to the\reader’s treating with
disbelief, provided he will be so good as give implicit
credit to the natural events of the story, which, like all
those which I have had the honour to put under his
notice, actually rest upon a basis of truth.le ee cece a ee nse are eee

 

A LEGEND OF MONTROSE.

CHAPTER I.

Such as do build their faith upon
The holy text of pike and gun,
Decide all controversies by
Infallible artillery,

And prove their doctrine orthodox,
By apostolic blows and knocks.

BUTLER.

Ir was during the period of that great and bloudy
Civil War which agitated Britain during the seventeenth
century, that our tale has its commencement. Scotland
had as yet remained free from the ravages of intestine
war, although its inhabitants were much divided in
political opinions ; and many of them, tired of the con-
trol of the Estates of Parliament, and disapproving of the
bold measure which they had adopted, by sending into
England a large army to the assistance of the Parliament,
were determined on their part to embrace the earliest
opportunity of declaring for the King, and making such a
diversion as should at least compel the recall of General
Leslie’s army out of England, if it did not recover a
great part of Scotland to the King’s allegiance. ‘This

plan was chiefly adopted by the northern nobility, whe536 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

had resisted with great obstinacy the adoption of the
Solemn League and Covenant, and by many of the chiefs
of the Highland clans, who conceived their interest and
authority to be connected with royalty, who had, besides,
a decided aversion to the Presbyterian form of religicn,
and who, finally, were in that half savage stace of society
in which war is always more welcome. than peace.

Great commotions were generally expected to arise
from these concurrent causes ; and the trade of incursion
and depredation, which the Scottish Highlanders at all
times exercised upon the Lowlands, began to assume a
more steady, avowed, and systematic form, as part of a
general military system.

Those at the head of affairs were not insensible to the
peril of the moment, and anxiously made preparations te
meet-and to repel it. They considered, however, with
satisfaction, that no leader or name of consequence had
as yet appeared to assemble an army of royalists, or even
to direct the efforts of those desultory bands, whom. love
of plunder, perhaps, as much as political principle, had
hurried into measures of hostility. It was generally
hoped that the quartering a sufficient number of troops in
the Lowlands adjacent to the Highland line, would have
the effect of restraining the mountain chieftains; while
the power of various barons in the north, who had
espoused the Covenant, as, for example, the Earl Mare-
scthal, the great families of Forbes, Leslie, and Irvine,
the Grants, and other Presbyterian clans, might counter-
balance and bridle not only the strength of the Ogilvies
and other cavaliers of Angus and Kincardine, but even
the potent family of the Gordons, whose extensive author-
ity was only equalled by their extreme dislike to the
Presbyterian model.A LEGEND OF MONTROSE. pew

In the West Highlands the ruling party numbered
many enemies; but the power of these disaffected clans
was supposed to be broken, and the spirit of their chief-
tains intimidated, by the predominating influence of the
Marquis of Argyle, upon whom the confidence of the
Convention of Estates was reposed with the utmost
security 5 and whose power in the Highlands, already
exorbitant, had been still farther increased by concessions
extorted from the King at the last pacification. It was
‘ndeed well known that Argyle was a man rather of
political enterprise than personal courage, and better
-aleulated to manage an intrigue of state, than to control
the tribes of hostile mountaineers; yet the numbers of
his clan, and the spirit of the gallant gentlemen by whom
it was led, might, it was supposed, atone for the personal
deficiencies of their chief; and as the Campbells had
already severely humbled several of the neighbouring
tribes, it was supposed these would not readily again
provoke an encounter with a body so powerful.

Thus having at their command the whole west and
south of Scotland, indisputably the richest part of the
kingdom,—Fifeshire being in a peculiar manner their
own, and possessing many and powerful friends even
north of the Forth and Tay,—the Scottish Convention of
Estates saw no danger sufficient to induce them to alter
the line of policy they had adopted, or to recall from the
assistance of their brethren of the English Parliament
that auxiliary army of twenty thousand men, by means
of which accession of strength, the King’s party had been
reduced to the defensive, when in full career of triumph
and success.

The causes wl

this time to take such an immediate and active interest

ich moved the Convention of Estates at

 

A OTT TNR SOR : : LEED j938 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

in the civil war of England, are-detailed by our historians,
but may be here shortly recapitulated. They had indeed
no new injury or aggression to complain of at the hand
of the King, and the peace which had been made between
Charles and his subjects of Scotland had been carefully
observed ; but the Scottish rulers were well aware that
this peace had been extorted from the King, as well by
the influence of the parliamentary party in England, as
by the terror of their own arms. It is true, King Charles
had since then visited the capital of his ancient king-
dom, had assented to the new organization of the church,
and had distributed honours and rewards among the
leaders of the party which had shewn themselves most
hostile to his interests ; but it was suspected that distine-
tions so unwillingly conferred would be resumed as soon
as opportunity offered. The low state of the English
Parliament was seen in Scotland with deep apprehension ;
and it was concluded, that should Charles triumph by
force of arms against his insurgent subjects of England,
he would not be long in exacting from the Scots the
vengeance which he might suppose due to those who had
set the example of taking up arms against him. Such
was the policy of the measure which dictated the sending
the auxiliary army into England; and it was avowed in
® manifesto explanatory of their reasons for giving this
timely and important aid to the English Parliament.
The English Parliament, they said, had been already
friendly to them, and might be again; whereas the King,
although he had so lately established religion among
them according to their desires, had given them no
ground to confide in his royal declaration, seeing they
nad found his promises and actions inconsistent with each
other. “QOur conscience,” they concluded, “and God,

ofA LEGEND OF MONTROSE. 239

who is greater than our conscience, beareth us record,
that we aim altogether at the glory of God, peace of
both nations, and= honour of the King, in suppressing and
punishing, in a legal way, those who are the troublers
of Israel, the firebrands of hell, the Korahs, the Balaams,
the Doegs, the Rabshakehs, the Hamans, the Tobiahs,
the Sanballats of our time; which done, we are satisfied.
Neither have we begun to use a military expedition te
England as a mean for compassing those our pious ends,
until all other means which we could think upon have
failed us: and this alone is left to us, wlt¢mum et unicum
remedium, the last and only remedy.”

Leaving it to casuists to determine whether one con-
tracting party is justified in breaking a solemn treaty,
upon the suspicion that, in certain future contingencies, it
might be infringed by the other, we shall proceed to
mention two other circumstances that had at least equal
influence with the Scottish rulers and nation, with any
doubts which they entertained of the King’s good faith.

The first of these was the nature and condition of their
army ; headed by a poor and discontented nobility, under
whom it was officered chiefly by Scottish soldiers of for-
who had served in the German wars until they had
ost all distinction of political principle, and even
in the adoption of the mercenary faith, that a
al duty was fidelity to the state or sover-
he received his pay, without respect
el, or to their own con-
To men

lune,
lost alm
of country,
soldier’s princip
eign from which
cither to the justice of the quarr
nexion with either of the contending parties.
Grotius applies the severe character—
n, qua sine

To these

ot this stamp,
Nullum vite genus est improbius, quam eorut
riu mercede conducti, militant.

nause respe
as well as to the needy gentry with

mercenary soldiers,+30 ATO pag seo

rom

2AQ WAVERLEY NOVELS.

Vv

whom they were mixed in command, and who easily
imbibed the same opinions, the success of the late short
invasion of England in 1641 was a sufficient reason for
renewing so profitable an experiment. The good pay
and free quarters of England had made a feeling impres-
sion upon the recollection of these military adventurers,
and the prospect of again levying eight hundred and fifty
pounds a-day, came in place of all arguments, whether
of state or of morality.

Anotaer cause inflamed the minds of the nation at
large, no less than the tempting prospect of the wealth
of England animated the soldiery. So much had been
written and said on either side concerning the form of
church government, that it had become a matter of infi-
nitely more consequence in the eyes of the multitude than
the doctrines of that gospel which both churches had em-
braced. The Prelatists and Presbyterians of the more
violent kind became as illiberal as the Papists, and would
scarcely allow the possibility of salvation beyond the pale
of their respective churches. It was in vain remarked to
these zealots, that had the Author of our holy religion
considered any peculiar form of church government as
essential to salvation, it would have been revealed with
the same precision as under the Old Testament dispensa-
tion. Both parties continued as violent as if they could
have pleaded the distinct commands of Heaven to justity
their intolerance. Laud, in the days of his domination,
had fired the train, by attempting to impose upon the
Scottish people church ceremonies foreign to their habits
and opinions. The success with which this had been
resisted, and the Presbyterian model substituted. in its
place, had endeared the latter to the nation, as the cause

in which they had triumphed. The Solemn League an‘|A LEGEND OF MONTROSE.

Covenant, adopted with such zeal by the greater part of
the kingdom, and by them forced, at the sword’s point,
upon the others, bore in its bosom, as its principal object,
ihe establishing the doctrine and discipline of the Pres-
byterian church, and the putting down all error and
heresy ; and having attained for their own country an
establishment of this golden candlestick, the Scots became

berally and fraternally anxious to erect the same in
re This they concerned might be easily attained
by lending to the Parliament the effectual assistance of
the Scottish forces. The Presbyterians, a numerous and
powerful party in the English Parliament, had hitherto
taken the lead in opposition to the King; while the In-
dependents and other sectaries, who afterwards, under
Cromwell, resumed the power of the sword, and overset
the Presbyterian model both in Scotland and England,
were as yet contented to lurk under the shelter of the
wealthier and more powerful party. The prospect of
bringing to a uniformity the kingdoms of England and
Scotland in discipline and worship, seemed therefore as
fair as it was desirable.

The celebrated Sir Henry Vane, one of the commis-
sioners who negotiated the alliance betwixt England and
Scotland, saw the influence which this bait had upon
the spirits of those with whom he dealt; and although
himself a violent Independent, he contrived at once to
gratify and to elude the eager desires of the Presbyte-
rians, by qualifying the obligation to reform the Church
of
the word of God, and the best reformed churches.” De

England, as a change to be executed “ according to

eeived by their own eagerness, themselves entertaiming
po doubts on the Jus Divinum of their own ecclesiastical
astablishments, and not holding it possible such doubts

VOL. XI. 16SOR ae cet

242 WAVERLEY NOVELS.
could be adopted by others, the Convention of Estates
and the Kirk of Scotland conceived, that such expressions
necessarily inferred the establishment of Presbytery ; nor
were they undeceived, until, when their help was ne
longer needful, the sectaries gave them to understand,
thit the phrase might be as well applied to Independency,
or any other mode of worship, which those who were at
the head of affairs at the time might consider as agreeable
“to the word of God, and the practice of the reformed
churches.” Neither were the out-witted Scottish less
astonished to find, that the designs of the English secta-
ries struck against the monarchical constitution of Britain,
it having been their intention to reduce the power of the
King, but by no means to abrogate the office. “They
fared, however, in this respect, like rash physicians, who
sommence by over-physicking a patient, until he is re-
duced to a state of weakness, from which cordials are
afterwards unable to recover him.

But these events were still in the womb of futurity.
As yet the Scottish Parliament held their engagement
with England consistent with justice, prudence, and piety,
and their military undertaking seemed to succeed to their
very wish. The junction of the Scottish army with those
of Fairfax and Manchester, enabled the Parliamentary
forces to besiege York, and to fight the desperate action
of Long-Marston Moor, in which, Prince Rupert and the
Marquis of Newcastle were defeated. The Scottish
auxiliaries, indeed, had less of the glory of this victory
than their countrymen could desire. David Leslie, with

fs | }

heir avalry \IIerh hravel r and +] , } 2c T ] t
HeIT CaVAalYy, JOULGHNLE VTAVELY, Abie 10. THEM. aS Welk as te

Cromwell’s brigade of Independents, the honour of the

day belonged; but the old Earl of Leven, the covenant-

ag general, was driven out of the fiekl by the impetuousA LEGEND OF MONTROSE. 243

tharge of Prince Rupert, and was thirty miles distant, in
full flight towards Scotland, when he was overtaken by
the news that his party had gained a complete victory.

The absence of these auxiliary troops, upon this

crusade for the establishment of Presbyterianism in
Fngland, had considerably. diminished the power of the
Convention of Estates in Scotland, and had given rise to
those agitations among the anti-covenanters, which we
have noticed at the beginning of this chapter.IRON”: cnet:

WAVERLEY NOVELS.

CHAPTER I.

His mother could for him as cradle set

Her husband’s rusty iron corselet;

Whose jangling sound could hush her babe to rest,
That never plain’d of his uneasy nest;

Then did he dream of dreary wars at hand,

And woke, and fought, and won, ere he could stand.

HAuw’s Satves.

Ir was towards the close of a summer’s evening, during
the anxious period which we have commemorated, that a

young gentleman of quality, well mounted and armed,

and accompanied by two servants, one of whom led a
sumpter-horse, rode slowly up one of those steep. passes
by which the Highlands are accessible from the Lowlands
of Perthshire.* Their course had lain for some time along
the banks of a lake, whose deep waters reflected the
erunson beams of the western sun. The broken path
which they pursued, with some difficulty, was in some
places shaded by ancient birches and oak trees, and in
others overhung by fragments of huge rock. Elsewhere,
the hill, which formed the northern side of this beautiful
sheet of water, arose in steep, but less precipitous acclivity,
and was arrayed in heath of the darkest purple. In the
present times, a scene so romantic would have been judged
to possess the highest charms for the traveller; but those

<

* The beautiful pass of Leny, near Callender, in Monteith, would,
\n some respects, answer the description.A LEGEND OF MONTROSE,

 

243

who journey in days of doubt and dread pay little atten-
tion to picturesque scenery.

The master kept, as often as the wood permitted,
abreast of one or both of his domestics, and seemed
earnestly to converse with them, probably because the
distinctions of rank are readily set aside among those who
are made to be sharers of common danger. The disposi-
lions of the leading men who inhabited this wild country,
and the probability of their taking part in the political
convulsions that w2re soon expected, were the subjects of
their conversation.

They had not advanced above half way up the lake,
and the young gentleman was pointing to his attendants
the spot where their intended road turned northwards,
and, leaving the verge of the Loch, ascended a ravine to
the. right hand, when they discovered a single horseman
coming down the shore as if to meet them. The gleam
of the sunbeams upon his head-piece and corselet shewed
that he was in armour, and the purpose of the other
travellers required that he should not pass unquestioned.
“ We must know who he is,” said the young gentleman,
“and whither he is going.” And putting spurs to his
horse, he rode forward as fast as the rugged state of the
road would permit, followed by his two attendants, until
he reached the point where the pass along the side of the
lake was intersected by that which descended from the
ravine, securing thus against the possibility of the stranger
eluding them, by turning into the latter road before they
vame up with him.

The single horseman had mended. his pace, when he
first observed the three riders advance rapidly towards
\im; but when he saw them halt and form a front, which
rompletely o. cupie 1 the path, he checked his horse, and246

advanced with gre

military ‘

WAVERLEY NOVELS.

at deliberation; so that each party had
an opportunity to take a full survey of the other. The
solitary stranger was mounted upon an able horse, fit for

service, and for the great weight which he had

to carry, and his rider occupied his demipique, or war-
saddle, with an air that shewed it was his fam“liar seat.
He had a bright burnished head-piece, with a plume of
feathers, together with a cuirass, thick enough’ to resist a
musket-ball, and a back-piece of lighter materials. These

defensive arms he wore over a

pair of gauntlets, or steel

buff jerkin, along with a

gloves, the tops of which

reached up to his elbow, and which, like the rest of his

armour, were of bright steel.

At the front of his military

saddle hung a case of pistols, far beyond the ordinary
size, nearly two feet in length, and carrying bullets of
twenty to the pound. A buff belt, with a broad silver

Luckle, sustained on one side a
hroadsword, with a strong guard, and a blade calculated
either to strike or push. On the right side hung a dagger

long straight double-edged

of about eighteen inches in length; a shoulderbelt sus-
tained at his back a musketoon or blunderbuss, and was
crossed by a bandelier containing his charges of ammuni-
tion. Thigh-pieces of steel, then termed taslets, met the

tops of his huge

jack-boots, a1

1d completed the equipage

of a well-armed trooper of the period.
e of the horseman himself corresponded

The appearance

well with his military

of having been

long inured.

equipage, to which he had the .air

Te was above the middle

size, and of strength sufficient to bear with ease the
weight of his weapons, offensive and defensive. His age

might be forty and upwards, and his countenance was

that of a resolute weather-beaten veteran, who had seen

many fields, and brought away in token more than oneA LEGEND OF MGNTROSE. 247

Bear. At the distance of about thirty yards he halted and
stood inst, raised himself on his stirrups, as if to recon-
noitre and ascertain the purpose of the opposite party,
and brought his musketoon under his right arm, ready toz
use, if occasion should require it. In every thing but
numbers, he had the advantage of those who seemed in-
clined to interrupt his passage.

The leader of the party was, indeed, well mounted and
clad in a buff coat, richly embroidered, the half-military
dress of the period; but his domestics had only coarse
jackets of thick felt, which could scarce be expected to
turn the edge of a sword, if wielded by a strong man;
and none of them had any weapons, save swords and
pistols, without which gentlemen, or their attendants,
during those disturbed times, seldom stirred abroad.

When they had stood at gaze for about a minute, the
younger gentleman gave the challenge which was then
common in the mouth of all strangers who met in such

circumstances

 

“Kor whom are you?”

“Tell me first,” answered the soldier, “for whom are
you ?—the strongest party should speak first.”

“We are for God and King Charles,” answered the
first speaker.—* Now tell your faction, you know ours.”

“Tam for God and my standard,” answered the single
horseman.

“ And for which standard?” replied the chief of the
other party— Cavalier-or Roundhead, King or Conven-
tion ?”

“ By my troth, sir,” answered the soldier, I would be
loath to reply to you with an untruth, as a thing unbe-
coming a cavalier of fortune and a soldier. Dut ta
answer your query with beseeming veracity, it is neces
sary I should myself have resolved to whilk of the pres:re AE peg

a

pees a

ae otra

248 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

ent divisions of the kingdom I shall ultimately adhere,
being a matter whereon my mind is not as yet preceesely
ascertained.”

“JT should have thought,” answered the gentleman,
“that, when loyalty and religion are at stake, no gentle-
man or man of honour could be long in choosing hiz
party.”

“Truly, sir,” replied the trooper, “if ye speak this in
the way of vituperation, as meaning to impugn my
honour or genteelity, I would blithely put the same to
issue, venturing in that quarrel with my single person
against you three. But if you speak it in the way of
logical ratiocination, whilk I have studied in my youth at
the Mareschal College of Aberdeen, I am ready to prove
to ye logicé, that my resolution to defer, for a certain
season, the taking upon me either of these quarrels, not
only becometh me as a gentleman and a man of honour,
but also as a person of sense and prudence, one imbued
with humane letters in his early youth, and who, from
thenceforward, has followed the wars under the banner
of the invincible Gustavus, the Lion of the North, and
under many other heroic leaders, both Lutheran and Cal-
vinist, Papist and Arminian.”

After exchanging a word or two with his domesties,
the younger gentleman replied, “I should be glad, sir, te
have some conversation with you upon so interesting a
question, and should be proud if I can determine you in
favour of the cause I have myself espoused. I ride this
evening to a friend’s house, not three miles distant,
whither, if you choose to accompany me, you shall have
good quarters for the night, and free permission to take

YL

your own road in the morning,

if you then feel ne inclina-
tion to join with us.”A LEGEND OF MONTROSE. 249

“ Wuose word am I to take for this?” answered the
cautious soldier—“a man must know his guarantee, or
he may fall into an ambuscade.”

“Tam called,” answered the young stranger, “the Earl
of Menteith, and, I trust, you will receive my honour as
a sufficient security.”

“A worthy nobleman,” ¢nswered the soldier, “ whose
parole is not to be dou ted.” With one motion he
replaced his musketoon at his back, and with another
made his military salute to the young nobleman, and con-
tinuing to talk as he rode forward to jom him—*“ And, I
trust,” said he, “my own assurance, that I will be bon
eamarado to your lordship in peace or in peril, during
the time we shall abide together, will not be altogether
vilipended in these doubtful ‘times, when, as they say, a
man’s head is safer in a steel-cap than in a marble
palace.”

“T assure you, sir,” said Lord Menteith, “that to judge
from your appearance, I most highly value the advantage
of your escort; but I trust we shall have no occasion tor
any exercise of valour, as I expect to conduct you to good
and friendly quarters.”

“Good quarters, my lord,” replied the soldier, “ are
always acceptable, and are only to be postponed to good pay
or good booty,—not to mention the honour of a cavalier,
or the needful points of commanded duty. And truly, my
lord, your noble proffer is not the less welcome, in that I
knew not preceesely this night where I and my poor
rompanion ” (patting his horse) “ were to find lodgments.”

“May I be permitted to ask, then,” said Lord Mens
sith, “to whom I have the good fortune to stand quarter
waster ?”

“ Truly, my lord,” said the trooper, “ my name is Dal.SARE An ir Peete |

ae

250 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

getty—Dugald Dalgetty, Ritt-master Dugald Dalgetty
of Drumthwacket, at your honourable service to com-
mand. It isa name you may have seen in Gallo Gel-
gicus, the Swedish Intelligencer, or if you read High
Dutch, in the Fliegenden Mereoeur of Leipsic. My
father, my lord, having by unthrifty courses reduced a
fxir patrimony to a nonentity. I had no better shift, when
I was eighteen years auld, than to carry the learning
whilk I had acquired at the Mareschal College of Aber-
deen, my gentle bluid and designation of Drumthwacket,
together with a pair of stalwarth arms, and legs conform,
to the German wars, there to push my way as a cavalier
of fortune. My lord, my legs and arms stood me in
more stead than either my gentle kin or my book-lear,
and I found myself trailing a pike as a private gentleman
under old Sir Ludovick Leslie, where I learned the rules of
service so tightly, that I will not forget them in a hurry.
Sir, I have been made to stand guard eight hours, being
from twelve at noon to eight o’clock of the night, at the
palace, armed with back and breast, head-piece and brace-
lets, being iron to the teeth, in a bitter frost, and the ice
was as hard as ever was flint; and all for stopping an
instant to speak to my landlady, when I should have gone
to roll-call.”

“And, doubtless, sir,’ replied Lord Menteith, “ you
xh some hot service, as well as this same

c
Ca

have gone throu
eold duty you talk of ?”

* Surely, my lord, it doth not become me to speak ; but
he that hath seen the fields of Leipsic and of Lutzen,
may be said to have seen pitched battles. And one who
hath witnessed the intaking of Frankfort, and Spanheim,
and Nuremberg, and so forth, should know somewhat

about leaguers, storms, onslaughts, and outfalls.”A LEGEND

  

OF MONTROSR. 251

S a
But your merit, sir, and experience, were doubtless
tollowed by promotion ?”
66 ‘ = : 5: : °
It came slow, my lord, dooms slow,” replied Dalgetty ;
%“ : es =. . >
but as my Scottish countrymen, the fathers of the war,
and the raisers of those valorous Scottish regiments that

were the dread of Germany, began to fall pretty thick,

what with pestilence and what with the sword, why we,
their children, succeeded to their inheritance. Sir, I was
six years first private gentleman of the company, and
three years lance speisade ; disdaining to receive a
halberd, as unbecoming my birth. Wherefore I was
ultimately promoted to be a fahn-dragger, as the High
Dutch call it, (which signifies an ancient,) in the Kine’s
Leif Regiment of Black Horse, and thereafter I arose
to be lieutenant and ritt-master, under that invincible

monarch, the bulwark

of the Protestant faith, the Lion

of the North, the terror of Austria, Gustavus the Vic-

torious.”

e

“And yet, if I understand you, Captain Dalgetty—I

think that rank corresponds with your foreign title of

+?

 

ritt-master

“The same grade preceesely,’ answered Dalgetty ;

“ritt-master signifying literally file-leader.”

99

“1 was observing,

if I understood you rigl

preat Prince.”

continued Lord Menteith, “ that,
it, you had left the service of this

“Tt was after his death—it was after his death, sir,”

said Dalgetty, “when I was in no shape bound to con-

finue mine adherence.

There are things, my lord, in

that service, that cannot but go against the stomach of

mny cavalier of honour.

In especial, albeit. the pay be

pone of the most superabundant, being only about sixty

ee
Yollars a month to a ritt-master, yet the invincible Gus-PASEO Rn er

B52 WAVERLEY NOVELS,

tavus never paid abuve one-third of that sum, whilk was
distributed monthly by way of loan; although, when
justly considered, it was, in fact, a borrowing by that
great monarch of the additional two-thirds which were
due to the soldier. And I have seen whole regiments of
Dutch and Holsteiners mutiny on the field of battle, like
base scullions, crying out ‘ Gelt, gelt,’ signifying their
desire of pay, instead of falling to blows like our noble
Scottish blades, who ever disdained, my lord, postponing
of honour to filthy lucre.”

“ But were not these arrears,” said Lord Menteith,
« naid to the soldiery at some stated period? ”

“ My lord,” said Dalgetty, “I take it on my conscience,
that at no period, and by no possible process, could one
creutzer of them ever be recovered. I myself never saw
twenty dollars of my own all the time I served the in-
vincible Gustavus, unless it was from the chance of a
storm or victory, or the fetching in some town or doorp,
when a cavalier of fortune, who knows the usage of wars,
seldom faileth to make some small profit.”

“JT begin rather to wonder, sir,” said Lord Menteith,
“that you should have continued so long in the Swedish
service, than that you should have ultimately withdrawn
from it.”

“ Neither I should,” answered the Ritt-master; “ but
that great leader captain, and king, the Lion of the North,
and the bulwark of the Protestant faith, had a way of
winning battles, taking towns, overrunning countries, and
levying contributions, whilk made his service irresistibly
delectable to all true-bred cavaliers who follow the noble
profession of arms. Simple as I ride here, my lord, i
have myself commanded the whole stiff of Dunklespie!

en the Lower Rhine, occupying the Palszrave'’s palace.A LEGEND OF MONTROSE. 25

oo

consuming his choice wines with my comrades, calling in
centributions, requisitions, and caduacs, and not failing to
lick my fingers, as became a good cook. But truly all
this glory hastened to decay, after our great master had
been shot with three~bullets on the field of Lutzen;
wherefore, finding that Fortune had changed sides, that
the borrowings and lendings went on as before out of our
pay, while the caduacs and casualties were all cut off, I
e’en gave up my commission, and took service with Wal-
lenstein, in Walter Butler’s Irish Regiment.”

“And may I beg to know of you,” said Lord Men-
teith, apparently interested in the adventures of this
soldier of fortune, “ how you liked this change of mas-

? 2?

°

ter
“ Indifferent well,” said the Captain—“ very indifferent

mn

well. I cannot say that the Emperor paid much better
than the great Gustavus. For hard knocks, we had
plenty of them. I was often obliged to run my head
against my old acquaintances, the Swedisi feathers, whilk
your honour must conceive to be double-pointed stakes,
shod with iron at each end, and planted before the squad
of pikes to prevent an onfall of the cavalry. The whilk
Swedish feathers, although they look gay to the eye, re-
sembling the shrubs or lesser trees of ane forest, as the
puissant pikes, arranged in battalia behind them, corre-
spond to the tall pines thereof, yet, nevertheless, are not
altogether so soft to encounter as the plumage of a goose.
Howbeit, in despite of heavy blows and light pay, a cav-
alier of fortune may thrive indifferently well in the Impe-
rial service, in respect his private casualties are nothing
so closely looked to as by tke Swede; and so that an
officer did his duty on the field, neither Wallenstem nor
Pappenheim, nor old Tilly before them, would likely lisB54 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

ten to the objurgations of boors or burghers against any
commander or soldado, by whom they chanced to be some-
what closely shorn. So that an experienced cavalier,
knowing how to lay, as our Scottish phrase runs, ‘the
heatl of the sow to the tail of the grice,’ might get out of
the country the pay whilk he could not obtain from the
Emperor.”

“ With a full hand, sir, doubtless, and with interest,”
said Lord Menteith.

“ Indubitably, my lord,” answered Dalgetty, compos-
edly ; “for it would be doubly disgraceful for any soldado
of rank to have his name called in question for any petty
delinquency.”

“ And pray, sir,” continued Lord Menteith, “ what made
you leave so gainful a service ?”

“Why, truly, sir,” answered the soldier, “an Irish cay-
alier, called O’Quilligan, being major of our regiment,
and I having had words with him the night before, re-
specting the worth and precedence of our several nations,
it pleased him the next day to deliver his orders to me
with the point of his batoon advanced and held aloof,
instead of declining and trailing the same, as is the fash-
ion from a courteous commanding officer towards his
equal in rank, though, it may be, his inferior in military
grade. Upon this quarrel, sir, we fought in private ren-
contre ; and as, in the perquisitions which followed, it
pleased Walter Butler, our oberst, or colonel, to give the
tighter punishment to his countryman, and the heavier to
me, whereupon, ill stomaching such partiality, I exchanged
my commission for one under the Spaniard.”

“T hope you found yourself better off by the change ?”
paid Lord Menteith.

“In good sooth,” answered the Ritt-master, “I had butA LEGEND OF MONTROSE. F955

little to complain of. The pay was somewhat regular,
being furnished by the rich Flemings and Walloons of
the Low Country. The quarters were excellent; the
good wheaten loaves of the Flemings were better than
the provant rye-bread of the Swede, and Rhenish wine
was more plenty with us than ever I saw the black-beer
of Rostock in Gustavus’s camp. Service there was none,
duty there was little; and that little we might do, or
leave undone, at our pleasure; an excellent retirement
for a cavalier somewhat weary of field and leaguer, who
had purchased with his blood as much honour as might
serve his turn, and was desirous of a little ease and good
living.”

“ And may I ask,” said Lord Menteith, “why you,
Captain, being, as I suppose, in the situation you describe,
etired from the Spanish service also ? ”

“You are to consider, my lord, that your Spaniard,”
replied Captain Dalgetty, “is a person altogether unpar-
alieled in his own conceit, wherethrough he maketh not
fit account of such foreign cavaliers of valour as are
pleased to take service with him. And a galling thing
it is to every honourable soldado, to be put aside, and
postponed, and obliged to yield preference to every
puffing signior, who, were it the question which should
first mount a breach at push of pike, might be apt to
yield willing place to a Scottish cavalier. Moreover,
sir, I was pricked in conscience respecting a matter o1
religion.”

“JT should not have thought, Captain Dalgetty,” said
she young nobleman, “that an old soldier, who had
shanged service so often, would have been too scrupulous

on that head.”
“ No more I am, my lord,” said the Captain, “since T5 Oat

Pa 2
wm

atone “pment, phe eee

a

PE ennai: ho

es

eR 6

256 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

hold it to be the duty of the chaplain of the regiment to
settle those matters for me, and every other brave cave-
fier, inasmuch as he does nothing else that L know of for
his pay and allowances. But this was a particular case,
my lord, a casus improvisus, as I may say, i whilk I
had no chaplain of my own persuasion to act as my
adviser. I found, in short, that although my being a

Protestant might be winked at, in respect that I was a

s
8
man of action, and had more experience than all the
Dons in our tertia put together, yet, when in garrison,
it was expected I should go to mass with the regiment.
Now, my lord, as a true Scottish man, and educated a
the Mareschal College of Aberdeen, I was bound to up-
hold the mass to be an act of blinded papistry and utter
idolatry, whilk I was altogether unwilling to homologate
by my presence. True it is, that I consulted on the point
with a worthy countryman of my own, one Father Fat-
sides, of the Scottish Convent in Wurtzburg—— ”

“ And I hope,” observed Lord Menteith, “ you obtained
a clear opinion from this same ghostly father?”

“As clear as it could be,” replied Captain Dalgetty,
“considering we had drunk six flasks of Rhenish, and
about two mutchkins of Kirschenwasser. Father Fat-
sides informed me, that, as nearly as he could judge, for
a heretic like myself, it signified not much whether I
went to mass or not, seeing my eternal perdition was
signed and sealed at any rate, in respect of my impeni-
tent and cbdurate perseverance in my damnable heresy.
Being discouraged by this response, I applied to a Dutch
pastor of the reformed church, who told me, he thought
I might lawfully go to mass, in respect that the prophet
permitted Naaman, a mighty man of valour, and an hon-
ourable cavalier of Syria, to follow his master into theA LEGEND OF MONTROSE. 207

house of Rimmon, a false god or idol, to whom he had
vowed service, and to bow down when the king was
leaning upon his hand. But neither was this answer
satisfactory to me, both because there was an unco differ.
ence between an anointed King of Syria and our Span
ish colonel, whom I could have blown away like the peel-
ing of an ingan, and chiefly because I could not find the
thing was required of me by any of the articles of war;
neither was I proffered any consideration, either in per
quisite or pay, for the wrong I might thereby do to my
conscience.”

“So you again changed your service?” said Lord
Menteith.

“In troth did I, my lord; and after trying for a short
while two or three other powers, I even took on for a time
with their High Mightinesses the States of Holland.”

“And low did their service jump with your humour ?”
again demanded his companion.

“Qh! my lord,” said the soldier, in a sort of enthu-
siasm, “their behaviour on pay-day might be a pattern
to all Europe—no borrowings, no lendings, no offsets, no
arrears—all balanced and paid like a banker’s book.
The quarters, too, are excellent, and the allowances un-
challengeable ; but then, sir, they are a preceese, scrupu-
lous people, and will allow nothing for peccadilloes. So
that if a boor complains of a broken head, or a beer-
seller of a broken can, or a daft wench does but squeak
loud enough to be heard above her breath, a soldier of
honour shall be dragged not before his own court-martial,
who can best judge of and punish his demerits, but before

base mechanical burgomaster, who shall menace him
with the rasp-house, the cord, and what not, as if he were
we of their own mean, amphibicus, twenty-breeched

 

VOL. XI. 17joe ged

ie oda g
i ee

a

i le

258 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

boor:. So not being able to dwell longer among these
ungrateful plebeians, who, although unable to defend
themselves by their proper strength, will, nevertheless,
allow the noble foreign cavalier who engages with them
nothing beyond his dry wages, which no honourable spirit
will put in competition with a liberal license and honour-
able countenance, I resolved to leave the service of the
Mynheers. And hearing at this time, to my exceeding
satisfaction, that there is something to be doing this sum-
mer in my way in this my dear native country, I am
come hither, as they say, like a beggar to a bridal, in
order to give my loving countrymen the advantage of
that experience which I have acquired in foreign parts.
So your lordship has an outline of my brief story, ex-
cepting my deportment in those passages of action in the
field, in leaguers, storms, and onslaughts, whilk would be
tedious to narrate, and might, peradventure, better befit
nny other tongue than mine own.”

END OF VOL. tmie BEL A€ K DW ARE

AND

A LEGEND OF MONTROSE.

Ve OG ack.Ahora vien, dixo wl Cura: traedme, senor huésped, aquesos libros, que
wos quiero ver. Que me place, respondié el; y entrando en su aposento,
sacd dél una maletilla vieya cerrada con una cadenilla, y abriendola, hallé
en ella tres bros grandes y unos papeles de muy buena letra escritos de
mano.—Don QuIxoTE, Parte I. Capitulo 82.

It is mighty well, said the priest: pray, landlord, bring me those
Looks, for I have a mind to see them. With all my heart, answered
the host; and going to his chamber, he brought outa little old cloke-
bag, with a padlock and chain to it, and opening it, he took out three
large volumes, and some manuscript papers written ina fine char
acter.—JARVIS’s Translation.A LEGEND OF MONTROSE.

CHAPTER IT.

For pleas of right let statesmen vex their head,
Battle’s my business, and my guerdon bread;
And, with the sworded Switzer, I can say,
The best of causes is the best of pay.

DONNE.

Tue difficulty and narrowness of the road had by this
time become such as to interrupt the conversation of the
travellers, and Lord Menteith, reining back his horse,
heid a moment’s private conversation with his domestics.
The Captain, who now led the van of the party, after
about a quarter of a mile’s slow and toilsome advance up
a broken and rugged ascent, emerged into an upland
valley, to which a mountain stream acted as a drain, and
afforded sufficient room upon its greensward banks for
the travellers to pursue their journey in a more social
manner.

Lord Menteith accordingly resumed the conversation,
which had been interrupted by the difficulties of the way
“J should have thought,” said he to Captain Dalgetty,
‘that a cavalier of your honourable mark, who hath so
long followed the valiant King of Sweden, and entertains5

WAVERLEY NOVELS.

 
 

such a suitable contempt for the base mechanical States
of Holland, would not have hesitated to embrace the
cause of King Charles, in preference to that of the low-

born, roundheaded, canting knaves, who are in rebellion

peainst his authority

pres

“ Ye speak reasonably, my lord,” said Dalgetty, “and

ceteris paribus, I might be induced to see the matter in

the same heht.

erb,—fine words butter no parsnips.

But, my lord, there is a southern prov-

I have heard

enough, since I came here, to satisfy me, that a cavalier

of honour is free to take any part in this civil embroul-

ment whilk he may find most convenient for his own

peculiar. Loyalty is your pass-word, my Lord—Liberty,

roars another chield from the other side of the strath—

the King, shouts one war-cry—the Parliament, roars

another—Montrose forever, cries Donald, waving his

bonnet—Aregyle and Leven, cries a south-country Saun-

ders, vapouring with his hat and feather—Fight for the

bishops, says a priest, with his gown and rochet—»stand

\
stout for the Kirk, cries a minister, in a Geneva cap and

band.—Good

Whilk cause is the best I cannot say.

watchwords

all

 

excellent watchwords.

But ‘sure am I,

that I have fought knee-deep in blood many a day for

one that was ten degrees worse than the worst of them

atl

“And pray, Captain Dalgetty,’ said his lordship,

“since the pretensions of both parties seem to you so

equal, will you please to inform us by what circumstances

your preference will be determined ? ”

“Simply upon two considerations, my lord,” answered

the soldier.

66

3eing, first, on which side my services

would be in most honourable request ;—And, secondly,

whilk is a vorollary of the first, by whilk party they areA LEGEND OF MONTROSE. 7

ikely to be most gratefully requited. And, to eal
plainly with you, my lord, my opinion at present doth on
voth points rather incline to the side of the Parliament?

“Your reasons, if you please,” said Lord Menteith,
© and perhaps I may be able to meet’ them with some
others which are more powerful.”

“Sir, I shall be amenable to reason,” said Captain
Dalgetty, “supposing it addresses itself to my honour and
my interest. Well, then, my lord, here is a sort of High-
land host assembled, or expected to assemble, in these
wild hills, in the King’s behalf. Now, sir, you know the
nature of our Highlanders. I will not deny them to be
a people stout in body and valiant in heart, and coura-
geous enough in their own wild way of fighting, which is as
remote from the usages and discipline of war as ever was
that of the ancient Scythians, or of the salvage Indians
of America that now is. They havena sae mickle as a
German whistle, or a drum, to beat a march, an alarm, a
charge, a retreat, a réveillé, or the tattoo, or any other
point of war; and their damnable skirlin’ pipes, whilk they
themselves pretend to understand, are unintelligible to the

‘ears of any cavaliero accustomed to civilized warfare.
So that, were I undertaking to discipline such a breech-
less mob, it were impossible for me to be understood ;
and if I were understood, judge ye, my lord, what chance
I had of being obeyed among~a band of half salvages,
who are accustomed to pay to their own lairds and chiefs,
allenarly, that respect and obedience whilk ought to be
paid to commissionate officers. Jf I were teaching them
to form battalia by extracting the square root, that is, by
forming your square battalion of equal number of men
of rank and file, corresponding to the square root of the
ull number present, what return could I expect for com-WAVERLEY NOVELS.

   

B

municating chis golden secret of military tactie, except it
} may be-a dirk in my wame, or placing some M‘Alister
| More, M‘Shemei, or Capperfae, in the flank or rear,
| when he claimed to be in the van?—Truly, well saith
Holy Writ, ‘if ye cast pearls before swine, they will turn
? again and rend ye.’ ”

“J believe, Anderson,” said Lord Menteith, looking
back to one of his servants, for both were close behind
him, “you can assure this gentleman we shall have more
occasion for experienced officers, and be more disposed
to profit by their instructions, than he seems to be
aware of.”

} : “ With your honour’s permission,” said Anderson, re-
) 7 spectfully raising his-cap, “when we are joined by the

Irish infantry, who are expected, and who should be
landed in the West Highlands before now, we shall have

PAL  -o «

need of good soldiers to discipline our levies.”
“And I should*like well

in such service,’ said Dalgetty; “the Irish are pretty

 

very well, to be employed

STERNER:

fellows—very pretty fellows—I desire to see none better
| in the field. I once saw a brigade of Irish, at the taking
: | of Frankfort upon the Oder, stand to it with sword and-
7 pike until they beat off the blue and yellow Swedish brig-
ades, esteemed as stout as any that fought under the
immortal Gustavus. And although stout Hepburn, val-
tant Lumsdale, courageous Monroe, with myself and other
eavaliers, made entry elsewhere at point of pike, yet, had
we all met with such opposition, we had returned with
treat loss and little profit. Wherefore these valiant Ivishes
being all put to the sword, as is usual in such cases, did,
nevertheless, gain immortal praise and honour; so that,
tor their sakes, I have always loved and honoured those

of that nation next to my own country of Scotland.”A LEGEND OF MONTROSE. §

“ A command of Trish,” said Menteith, “I think I could
Rlmost promise you, should you be disposed to embrace
the royal cause.” ;

“And yet,” said Captain Dalgetty, “my second and
greatest difficulty remains behind; for, although I hold it
a mean and sordid thing for a soldado to have nothing in
his mouth but pay and gelt, like the base scullions, the
German lanz-knechts, whom I mentioned before ; and
although I will maintain it with my sword, that honour is
to be preferred before pay, free quarters, and arrears, yet,
ex contrarto, a soldier’s pay being the counterpart of his
engagement of service, it becomes a wise and considerate
cavalier to consider what remuneration he is to receive
for his service, and from what funds it is to be paid.
And truly, my lord, from what I can see and hear, the
Convention are the purse-masters. The Highlanders,
indeed, may be kept in humour, by allowing them to steal
cattle ; and for the Ivishes, your lordship and your noble
associates may, according to the practice of the wars in
such cases, pay them as seldom or as little as may suit
your pleasure or convenience; but the same mode of
treatment doth not apply to a cavalier like me, who must
keep up his horses, servants, arms, and equipage, and
who neither can, nor will, go to warfare upon his own
charges.”

Anderson, the domestic who had before spoken, now
respectfully addressed his master.—“ I think, my lord,”
he said, “that under your lordship’s favour, I could say
something to remove Captain Dalgetty’s second objection
ulso. He asks us where we are to collect our pay; now,
in my poor mind, the resources are as open to us as to the
Covenanters. They tax the country according to their
pleasure, and dilapidate the estates of the King’s friends;to

ERR

mR 2
° oe

PR Atami

LO WAVERLEY NOVELS.

how, were we once in the Lowlands, with our Highland-
ers and our Irish at our backs, and our swords in our
hands, we can find many a fat traitor, whose ill-gotten
wealth shall fill our military chest and satisfy our soldiery.
Besides, confiscations will fall in thick; and, in giving do-
nations of forfeited lands to every adventurous cavalier
who joins his standard, the King will at once reward his
friends and punish his enemies. In short, he that joins
these Roundhead dogs may get some miserable pittance
of pay—he that joins our standard has a chance to be
knight, lord, or earl, if luck serve him.”

“Have you ever served, my good friend?” said the
Captain to the spokesman.

“ A little, sir, in these our domestic quarrels,” answered
the man, modestly.

“But never in Germany or the Low Countries?” said
Dalgetty. 3

“T never had the honour,” answered Anderson.

9

said Dalgetty, addressing Lord Menteith,

“T profess,
“your lordship’s servant has a sensible, natural, pretty
idea of military matters; somewhat irregular, though, and
smells a little too much of selling the bear’s skin before he
has hunted him.—TI will take the matter, however, into
my consideration.”

“ Do so, Captain,” said Lord Menteith; “ you will have

the night to think of ut, for we are now near the house,

‘where I hope to ensure you a hospitable reception.”

“And that is what will be very welcome,” said the
Captain, for I have tasted no food since day-break but a
farl of oat-cake, which I divided with my horse. So I
have been fain to draw my sword belt three bores tighter
for very extenuation, lest hunger and heavy iron shonld
make the gird slip.”A LEGEND OF MONTROSE.

CHAPTER IV.

Once on a time, no matter when,

Some Glunimies met in a glen;

As deft and tight as ever wore

A durk, a targe, and a claymore,

Short hose, and belted plaid or trews,

In Uist, Lochaber, Skye, or Lewes,

Or cover’d hard head with his bonnet;

Had you but known them, you would own it.

MESTON.

A HILL was now before the travellers, covered with an
anciert forest of Scottish firs, the topmost of which, fling:
ing their scathed branches across the western. horizon,
gleamcd ruddy in the setting sun. In the centre of this
wood rose the towers, or rather the chimneys, of the
house, or castle, as it was called, destined for the end of
their journey.

As usual at that. period, one or two high-ridged narrow
buildings, intersecting and crossing each other, formed the
corps de logis. A projecting bartizan or two, with the
addition of small turrets at the angles, much resembling
pepper-boxes, had procured for Darnlinvarach the dig-
nified appellation of a castle. It was surrounded by a
ow court-yard wall, within which were the usual offices.

As the travellers approached more nearly, they dis-
eovered marks of recent additions to the defences of the
place, which had been suggested, doubtless, by the inse-
eurity of those troublesome times. Additional loop-hoiesIi =

 

7 CMBR Re ee

RTE Oe

  

]

 

3 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

for musketry were struck out in different parts of the

building, and of its surrounding wall.

The windows had

just been carefully secured by stancheons of iron, cross-

ing each other athwart and end-long, like the grates of a

prison. The door of the court-yard was shut; and it was

only after cautious challenge that one of its leaves was
opened by two domestics, both strong Highlanders, and
both under arms, like Bitias and Pandarus in the A®neid,
ready to defend the entrance if aught hostile had ventured

an intrusion.

When the travellers were admitted into the court, they

found additional preparations for defence. The walls

were scaffolded for the use of fire-arms, and one or two

of the small guns called sackers, or falcons, were mounted

at the angles and flanking turrets.

More domestics, both in the Highland and Lowland
dress, instantly rushed from the interior of the mansion,

and some hastened to take the horses of the strangers,

while others waited to marshal them away into the dwell-
ing house. But Captain Dalgetty refused the proffered
assistance of those who wished to relieve him of the
charge of his horse. “It is my custom, my friends, to
see Gustavus (for so I have called him, after my invin-
cible master) accommodated myself; we are old friends
and fellow-travellers, and as I often need the use of his
legs, I always lend him in my turn the service of my
tongue, to call for whatever he has occasion for;” and
avcordingly, he strode into the stable after his steed

without farther apology.

Neither Lord Menteith nor his attendan‘s paid the
tame attention to their horses, but leaving them to the
proffered care of the servants of the place, walked forward

into the house, where a sort of dark vaulted vestibule diseA LEGEND OF MONTROSE. 13

played, among other miscellaneous articles, a huge barrel
of twopenny ale, beside which were ranged two or three
wooden queichs, or bickers, ready, it would appear, for
the service of whoever thought proper to: employ them.
Lord Menteith applied himself to the spigot, drank with-
out ceremony, and then handed the stoup to Anderson,
who followed his master’s exampis, but not until he had
flung out the drop of ale which remained, and slightly
rinsed the wooden cup.

“ What the deil, man,” said an old. Highland servant
belonging to the family, “can she no drink after her ain

noond

master without washing the cup and spilling the ale, and
be tamned to her ?”

“JT was bred in France,” answered Anderson, “ where
nobody drinks after another out of the same cup, unless
it be after a young lady.”

“'The teil’s in their nicety !” said Donald; “and if the
ale be gude, fat the waur is’t that another man’s beard’s
been in the queich before ye ?”

Anderson’s companion drank without -observing the
ceremony which had given Donald so much offence, and
both of them followed their master into the low-arched
stone-hall, which was the common rendezvous of a Hich-
land family.” A large fire of peats in the huge chimney
at the upper end shed a dim light through the apartment,
and was rendered necessary by the damp, by which,
even during the summer, the apartment was rendered
uncomfortable. Twenty or thirty targets, as many clay-
mores, with dirks, and plaids, and guns, both matchlock
wnd firelock, and long-bows, and cross-bows, and Lochaber
axes, and coats of plate-armour, and steel-bonnets, and
nead-pieces, and the more ancient habergeons, or spn
of reticulated mail, with hood and sleeves correspondingTERR RT: ov canta means

  

WAVERLEY NOVELS.

 

14

to it, all hung in confusion about the walls, and would
have formed a month’s amusement to a.member of a
modern antiquarian society. But such things were tuo
familiar to attract much observation on the part of the
present spectators.

There was a large clumsy oaken table, which the hasty
hospitality of the domestie who had before spoken, imme-
diately spread with milk, butter, goat-milk cheese, a flagon
of beer, and a flask of usquebe, designed for the refresh-
ment of Lord Menteith; while an inferior servant made
similar preparations at the bottom of the table for the
benefit of his attendants. ‘The space which intervened
between them was, according to the manners of the times,
sufficient distinction between master and servant, even
though the former was, as in the fa instance, of high
rank. Meanwhile the guests stood by the fire—the young
nobleman under the chimney, and his servants at some
little distance.

“ What do you think, Anderson,” said the former, “ of
our fellow-traveller ?”

“A stout fellow,’ replied Anderson, “if all be good
that is upcome. I wish we had twenty such, to put our
Teagues into some sort of discipline.”

“J differ from you, Anderson,” said Lord Menteith;
“JT think this fellow Dalgetty is one of those horse-
leeches, whose appetite for blood being only sharpened
by what he has sucked in foreign countries, he is now
returned to batten upon that of his own. Shame on the
pack of these mercenary swordsmen ! they have made the
name of Scot through all Europe equivalent to that of a
pitiful mercenary, who knows neither honour nor prin«
ciple but his month’s pay, who transfers his allegiance

from standard io standard, at the pleasure of fortune orA LEGEND OF MONTROSR. 1d

the highest bidder; and to whose insatiable thirst for
plunder and warm quarters we owe much of that civil
dissension which is now turning our swords against our
own bowels. I had scarce patience with the hired
gladiator, and yet could hardly help laughing at the
extremity of his impudence.”

“Your lordship will forgive me,” said Anderson, “ if I
recommend to you, in the present circumstances, to con-
ceal at least a part of this generous indignation ; we can-
not, unfortunately, do our work without the assistance of
those who act on baser motives than our own. We can-
not spare the assistance of such fellows as our friend the
soldado. ‘To use the canting phrase of the saints in the
Hnglish Parliament, the sons of Zeruiah are still too many
for us.”

“I must dissemble, then, as well as I can,” said the
Lord Menteith, “as I have hitherto done, upon your
hint. But I wish the fellow at the devil with all my
heart.”

“Ay, but still you must remember, my Lord,” resumed
Anderson, “that to cure the bite of a scorpion, you must
crush another scorpion on the wound—But stop, we shall
be overheard.”

From a side-door in the hall glided a Highlander into
the apartment, whose lofty stature and complete equip-
ment, as well as the eagle’s feather in his bonnet and the
confidence of his demeanour, announced to be a person of
superior rank. He walked slowly up to the table, and
made no answer to Lord Menteith, who, addressing him
by the name of Allan, asked him how he did.

« Ye manna speak to her e’en now,” whispered the old
ettendant.
The tall Highlander, sinking down upon the empty16 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

settle next the fire, fixed his eyes upon the red embers
and the huge heap of turf, and seemed buvied in profound
abstraction. His dark eyes, and wild and enthusiasti¢
features, bore the air of one who, deeply ae pressed with
E his own subjects of meditation, pays little < itention to
exterior objects. An air of gloomy severity, the fruit

perhaps of ascetic and solitary habits, might, in a Low:

' | lander, have been ascribed to religious fanaticism; but b

iF ?

J | h: a ‘ f Spal eee bt oe 1 Py ar
4 7 that disease of the mind, then so common both in Emgland
i and the Lowlands of Scotland, the Highlanders of this
Yo i period were rarely infected. They had, however, their
it own peculiar superstitions, which overclouded the mind
1 I

J with thick-coming fancies, as completely as the puritanism
: of their neighbours.

“ His lordship’s honour,” said the Highland seryant,
‘ sideling up to Lord Menteith, and speaking in a very low
| tone, “his lordship manna speak to Allan even now, for

the cloud is upon his mind.”
Lord Menteith nodded, and took no farther notice of

EER:

the reserved mountaineer.
“ Said I not,” asked the latter, suddenly raising his
“‘ said

I not that four were to come, and here stand but three on

 

: | stately person upright, and looking at the domestic

the hall floor?”

“In troth did ye say sae, Allan,” said the old High-
lander, “and here’s the fourth man coming clinking in at
the yett e’en now from the stable, for he’s shelled like a
partan, wi airn on back and breast, haunch and shanks.
And am I to set her chair up near the Menteith’s, or
down wi the honest gentlemen at the foot of the table?”

Lord ti: h himself answered the inquiry, by points
ing to a seat uae his own.

“ And here she comes,” said Donald, as Captain Dal-A LEGEND OF MONTROSE. 17

Retty entered the hall; “and I hope gentlemens will all
take bread and cheese, as we say in the glens, until better
meat be ready, until the Tiernach comes back frae the
hill wi’ the southern gentlefolk, and then Dugald Cock
will shew himselr wi’ his kid and hill venison.”

In the meantime, Captain Dalgetty had entered the
apartment, and, walking up to the seat placed next J.ord
Menteith, was leaning on the back of it with his arms
folded. Anderson and his companion waited at the
bottom of the table, in a respectful attitude, until they
should receive permission to seat themselves; while
three or four Highlanders, under the direction of old
Donald, ran hither and thither to bring additional articles
of food, or stood still to give attendance upon the guests.

In the midst of these preparations, Allan suddenly
started up, and snatching a lamp from the hand of an
attendant, held it close to Dalgetty’s face, while he
perused his features with the most heedful and grave
attention.

“By my honour,” said Dalgetty, half displeased, as,
mysteriously shaking his head, Allan gave up the scrutiny
—“T trow that lad and I will ken each other when we
meet again.”

Meanwhile Allan strode to the bottom of the table, and
having, by the aid-of his lamp, subjected Anderson and
his companion to the same investigation, stood a moment
as if in deep reflection; then, touching his forehead,
suddenly seized Anderson by the arm, and before he could
offer any effectual resistance, half led and half dragged
him to the vacant seat at the upper end, and having made
a mute intimation that he should there place himself, he
agurried the soldado with the same unceremonious precipi-
tation to the bottom of the table. The Captain exceed-

XIt. 2

WOuL.CSR oc PM tment

Rae. 6 =

18 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

ingly incensed at this freedom, endeavoured to shake
Allan from him with violence; but, powerful as ke WAS,
he proved in the struggle inferior to the gigantic moun-

Le
1

taineer, who threw him off with such violence, that after
reeling a few paces, he fell at full length, and the vaulted
hall rang with the clash of his armour. When he arose,
his first action was to draw his sword and fly at Allan,
who, with folded arms, seemed to await his onset with
the most scornful indifference. Lord Menteith and his
attendants interposed to preserve peace, while the High-
landers, snatching weapons from the wall, seemed prompt
to increase the broil.

“ He is mad,” whispered Lord Menteith, “he is per-
fectly mad; there is no purpose in quarrelling with him”

“Jf your lordship is assured that he is non compos
ments,’ said Dalgetty, “the whilk his breeding and
behaviour seem to testify, the matter must end here,
seeing that a madman can neither give an affront, nor
render honourable satisfaction. But, by my saul, if I had
my provant and a bottle of Rhenish under my belt, I
should have stood otherways up to him. And yet it’s a
pity he should be sae weak in the intellectuals, being s
strong proper man of body, fit to handle pike, morgen-
stern,* or any other military

y implement whatsoever.”

* This was a sort of club or mace, used in the earlier part of the
seventeenth century in the defence of breaches and walls. When the
Germans insulted a Scotch regiment then besieged at Trailsund,
baying they heard there was a ship come from Denmark to them
‘nden with tobacco pipes, “ One of our soldiers,” says Colonel Robert
Munro, “ shewing them over the work a morgenstern, mace cf a large
stock banded with iron, like the shaft of a halberd, with a round globe
at the end with cross iron pikes, saith, ‘ Here is one of the tobacec
pipes wherewith we will beat out your brains when you intevd ta
storm us.’ ’’A LEGEND OF MONTROSE.

Peace was thus restored, and the party seated them-
relves agreeably to their former arrangement, with which
Allan, who had now returned to his settle by the fire, and
seemed ence more immersed in meditation, did not again
mterfere. Lord Menteith, addressing the principal domes-
tic, hastened to start some theme of conversation which

°

might obliterate all recollection of the fray that had taken
place. “The laird is at the hill then, Donald, I under
Btand, and some English strangers with him?”

“At the hill he is, an it like your honour, and two
Saxon calabaleros are with him, sure eneugh; and that
is Sir Miles Musgrave and Christopher Hall, both from
the Cumraik, as I think they call their country.”

“ Hall and Musgrave?” said Lord Menteith, looking
at his attendants, “ the very men that we wished to see.”

“ ‘Troth,” said Donald, “an’ I wish I had never seen
them between the een, for they’re come to herry us out
o’ house and ha’.”

“Why, Donald,” said Lord Menteith, “ you did not
use to be so churlish of your beef and ale; southland
though they be, they'll scarce eat up all the cattle that’s
going on the castle mains.”

“Teil care an they did,” said Donald, “an that were
the warst o’t, for we have a wheen canny trewsmen here
that wadna let us want if there was a horned beast

it’s nae

 

atween this and Perth. But this is a warse job
less than a wager.”

“A wager!” repeated Lord Menteith, with some sur-
prise.

“'Troth,” continued -Denald, to the full as eager {9 tell
his news as Lord Menteith was curious to hear them,
*as your lordship is a friend and kinsman o’ the house,
ui as yell hear eneugh o’t in less than an hour, I may~

Pee

a =

a ae all

~ eee,

  
 
  
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
     

20 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

as weel tell ye mysell. Ye sall be pleased then to know,
that when our Laird was up in England, where he gangs
oftener than his friends can wish, he was biding at the
house o this Sir Miles Musgrave, an’ there was putten
on the table six candlesticks, that they tell me were twice
as muckle as the candlesticks in Dumblane kirk, and
neither airn, brass, nor tin, but a’ solid silver, nae less ;—
up wi their English pride, has sae muckle, and kens sae
little how to guide it! Sae they began to jeer the Laird,
that he saw nae sic graith in his ain poor country; and
the Laird, scorning to hae his country put down without
a word for its credit, swore, like a gude Scotsman, that
he had mair candlesticks, and better candlesticks, in his
ain castle at hame, than were ever lighted in a hall in
Cumberland, an Cumberland be the name o’ the country.”

“That was patriotically said,” observed Lord Men-
teith.

“ Fary true,” said Donald; “but her honour had better
hae hauden her tongue; for if ye say ony thing amang
the Saxons that’s a wee by ordinar, they clink ye down
for a wager as fast as a Lowland smith would hammer
shoon on a Highland shelty. An’ so the Laird behoved
either to gae back o’ his word, or wager twa hunder
merks; and so he e’en took the wager rather than he
shamed wi’ the like o’ them. And now he’s like to get
it to pay, and I’m thinking that’s what makes him sae
swear to come hame at e’en.”

“ Indeed,” said Lord Menteith, “from my idea of your
family plate, Donald, your master is certain to lose such
R wager.”

“ Your honour may swear that; an’ where he’s to get
the siller I kenna, although he borrowed out o’ twenty
purses. I advised him to pit the twa Saxon gentlemenA LEGEND OF MONTROSR. 2}

ind their servants cannily into the pit o’ the tower till
they gae up the bargain o” free gude will, but the Laird
winna hear reason.”

Allan here started up, strode forward, and interrupted
the conversaticn, saying to the domestic in a voice like
thunder, “ And how dared you to give my brother such
dishonourable advice? or how dare you to say he will
lose this or any other wager which it is his pleasure to
lay *”

‘'Troth, Allan M‘Aulay,” answered the old man, “ it’s

tA
ie

no for my father’s son to gainsay what your father’s son
thinks fit to say, an’ so the Laird may no doubt win his
wager. A’ that I ken against it is, that the teil a candle-
stick, or onything like it, is in the house, except the auld
airn branches that hae been here since Laird Kenneth’s
time, and the tin sconces that your father gard be made
by auld Willie Winkie the tinkler, mair be token that
deil an unce of siller plate is about the house at a’, forby
the lady’s auld -posset dish, that wants the cover and ane

,

o’ the lugs.”

“ Peace, old man!” said Allan, fiercely; “and do you,
rentlemen, if your refection is finished, leave this apart-
ment clear; I must prepare it for the reception of these
southern guests.”

“Come away,’ said the domestic, pulling Lord Men-
teith by the sleeve; “his hour is on him,” said he,
looking towards Allan, “and he will not be controlled.”

They left the hall accordingly, Lord Menteith and the
Captain being ushered one way by old Donald, and the
two attendants conducted elsewhere by another High-
lander. The former had scarcely reached a sort of
withdrawing apartment ere they were joined by the lord
of the mansion, Angus M‘Aulay by name, and his Enga3

: a a

SEE RN Fs en

See.)

ION,

22 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

-ish guests. Great joy was expressed by all parties, for

‘Lord Menteith and the English gentlemen were well

known to each other; and on Lord Menteith’s introduc-
tion, Captain Dalgetty was well received by the Laird.
But after the first burst of hos spitable congratulation was
over, Lord Menteith could observe that there was a shade
of sadness on the brow of his Highland friend.

“You must have heard,” said Sir Christopher Hall,
“that our fine undertaking in Cumberland is all blown
up. The militia would not march into Scotland, and
your prick-ear’d Covenanters have been too hard for our
friends in the southern shires. And so underst: anding

there is some stirring work | here, Musgrave and I, rather
than sit idle at home, are come to have a campaign among
your kilts and plaids.”

Ed pres you have Deu EMS arms, men, and money with
you,” said Lord Menteith, s iline.

“ Only some dozen or two of troopers, whom we left at
the last Lowland vill age,’ said Musgrave, “and trouble
enough we had to get them so far.”

“As for money,” said his companion, “we expect a
small supply from our friend and host here.”

The Laird now, colouring highly, took Menteith a
little apart, and e expressed to him his regret that he had
fallen into a foolish blunder.

“I heard it from Donald,” said Lord Menteith, scarce
able to suppress a smile.

“ Devil take that old man,” said M‘Aulay, “he would
tell every thing, were it to cost one’s life; but it’s

Jesting matter to you neither, my lord, for I reckon o:

ew

©

}

bere

your iniendly and fraternal benevolence, as a near kins-
man of our house, to alee me out with the money ck 1@

ha Ne) 1I- . TS = : a “9 .
ese pock-puddings; o1 else, to be plain wi’ ye, the deilA LEGEND OF MONTROSR. 23

R M<‘Aulay will there be at the muster, for curse me if I
do not turn Covenanter rather than face these fellows
without paying them; and at the best, I shall be il]
enough off, getting both the scaith and the scorn.”

“ You may suppose, cousin,” said Lord Menteith, “I
am not too well equipt just now; but you may be
assured I shall. endeavour to help you as well as I can,
for the sake of old kindred, neighbourhood, and alliance.”

“ Thank ye

 

thank ye—thank ye,” reiterated M‘Au-
lay; “and as they are to spend the money in the King’s
service, what signifies whether you, they, or I pay it ?—
we are a’ one man’s bairns, I hope? But you must help
me out too with some reasonable excuse, or else I shall
be for taking to Andrew Ferrara; for I like not to be
treated lke a lar or a braggart at my own board-end,
when, God knows, I only meant to support my honour
and that of my family and country.”

Donald, as they were speaking, entered, with rather a
blither face than he might have been expected to wear,
considering the impending fate of his master’s purse and
credit. “ Gentlemens, her dinner is ready, and her can-
dles are lighted too,” said Donald, with a strong guttural
emphasis on the last clause of his speech.

“ What the devil can he mean?” said Musgrave, look-
ing to his countryman.

Lord Menteith put the same question with his eyes to
the Laird, which M‘Aulay answered by shaking his head.

A short dispute about precedence somewhat delayed
their leaving the apartment. Lord Menteith insisted
apon yielding up that which belonged to his rank, on
consideration of his being in his own country, and of his
near counection with the family in which they found
themselves. The two English strangers, therefore, werai NT cen

mh

ER tate —

eee

24 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

first ushered into the hall, where an unexpected display
awaited them. The large oaken table was spread with
substantial joints of meat, and seats were placed in order
for the guests. Behind every seat stood a gigantic High-
lander, completely dressed and armed after the fashion
of his country, holding in his right hand his drawn sword,
with the point turned downwards, and in the left a blaz-
ing torch-made of the bog-pine. ‘This wood, found in the
morasses. is so full of turpentine, that when split and
dried, it is frequently used in the Highlands instead of
candles. The unexpected and somewhat startling appari-
tion was seen by the red glare of the torches, which dis-
played the wild features, unusual dress, and glittering of
those who bore them, while the smoke, eddying up to the
roof of the hall, over-canopied them with a volume of
vapour. Kre the strangers had recovered from their
surprise, Allan stept forward, and pointing with his
sheathed broadsword to the torch-bearers,.said, in a deep
and stern tone of voice, “ Behold, gentlemen cavaliers,
the chandeliers of my brother’s house, the ancient fashion
of our ancient name; not one of these men knows any
law but their Chief’s command—Would you dare to
compare to THEM in value the richest cre that ever was
dug out of the mine? How say you, cavaliers ?—is your
wager won or lost ?”

“ Lost, lost,” said Musgrave, gaily—“ my own silver
candlesticks are all melted and riding on horseback by
this time, and I wish the fellows that enlisted were half

Here, sir,’ he added te the Chief,

 

as trusty as_ these.
“jis your money; it impairs Hall’s finances and mine
yomewhat, but debts of honour must be settled.”

“My father’s curse upon my father’s son,” said Allan,

interrupting him, “if he receive from you one penny! ItA LEGEND OF MONTROSE. 25

is enough that you claim no right to exact from him what
is his own.”

Lord Menteith eagerly supported Allan’s opinion, and
the elder M-:Aulay readily joined, declaring the whole to
be a fool’s businéss, and not worth speaking more aboni.
The Englishmen, after some courteous opposition, were
persuaded to regard the whole as a joke.

“ And now, Allan,” said the Laird, “please to remove
your candles; for, since the Saxon gentlemen have seen
them, they will eat their dinner as comfortably by the
light of the old tin sconces, without scomfishing them
with so much smoke.”

Accordingly, at a sign from Allan, the living chan-
deliers, recovering their broadswords, and holding the
point erect, marched out of the hall, and left the guests to

enjoy their refreshments.*

* Such a bet as that mentioned in the text is said to have been
taken by MacDonald of Keppoch who extricated himself in the man-
ner there narrated.a5 om

*
a

WAVERLEY NOVELS

CHAPTER V.

fThnareby so fearlesse and so fell he grew,

That his own syre and maister of his guise

Did often tremble at his horrid view;

And if for dread of hurt would him advise,

The angry beastes not rashly to despise,

Nor too much to provoke; for he would learne

The lion stoup to him in lowly wise,

{A lesson hard,) and make the libbard sterne

Leave roaring, when in rage he for revenge did earne.

SPENSER

NOTWITHSTANDING the proverbial epicurism of the
English,—proverbial, that is to say, in Scotland at the
period,—the English visitors made no figure whatever at
the entertainment, compared with the portentous voracity
of Captain Dalgetty, although that gallant soldier had
already displayed much steadiness and pertinacity in his
attack upon the lighter refreshment set betore ‘them at
their entrance, by way of forlorn hope. He spoke to ne
one during the time of his meal; and it was not until tha

victuals were nearly withdrawn from the table, that he

qv

gratified the rest of the company, who had watched him
wilh some surprise, with an account of the reasons why
lie ate so very fast and so very long.

“he former quality,” he said, “he had acquired
whiie he filled a place at the bursar’s table at the Mare-
schal College of Aberdeen ; when,” said he, “if you did

not move your jaws as fast as a pair of castanets, you
2pA LEGEND OF MONTROSE.

vere very unlikely to get any thing to put between them.
And as for the quantity of my food, be it known to this
honourable company,” continued the Captain, “that it’s
the duty of every commander of a fortress, on all occa-
sions which offer, to secure as much munition and vivers
as their magazines can possibly hold, not knowing when

hay WE Lea - ice Rs 7 pee ei :
they may have to sustain a siege or a blockade. Upon

v

hic 2 vas) la yea MAY 27 194 Os 7 I s
which principle, gentlemen,” said he, “when-a cavalier
]
L

estimation, do wisely to victual himself for at least three
days, as there is no knowing when he may.come by an-
other meal.”

The Laird expressed his acquiescence in the prudence
of this principle, and recommended to the veteran to add
a tass of brandy and a flagon of claret to the substantial
provisions he had already laid in, to which proposal the
Captain readily agreed.

When dinner was removed, and the servants had with-

d

rawn, excepting the Laird’s page, or henchman, who
remained in the apartment to call for or bring whatever
was wanted, or, in a word, to answer the purposes of a
modern bell-wire, the conversation began to turn upon
politics, and the state of the country; and Lord Menteith
inquired anxiously and particularly what clans were
expected to jein the proposed muster of the King’s
friends.

“That depends much, my lord, on the person who hits
the banner,” said the Laird; “for you know we High-
sanders, when a few clans are assembled, are not easily
commanded by one of our own Chiefs, or, to say the
truth, by any other body. We have heard a rumour,
indeed, thai Colkitto—that is, young Colkitto, or Alaster
M‘Donald, is come over the Kyle from Ireland, with aee
ae

PTE ce

28 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

body of the Earl of Antrim’s people, and that they had
got as far as Ardnamurchan. They might have been
here before now, but, I suppose, they loitered to plunder
the country as they came along.”

“ Will Colkitto not serve you for a leader, then ?” said
Lord Menteith.

“ Colkitto!” said Allan M‘Aulay, scornfully ; “ who
talks of Colkitto? ‘Vhere lives but one man whom we
will follow, and that is Montrose.”

“ But Montrose, sir,” said Sir Christopher Hall, “ has
not been heard of since our ineffectual attempt to rise in
the north of England. It is thought he has returned to
the King at Oxford for farther instructions.”

“ Returned!” said Allan, with a scornful lateh>-* I
could tell ye, but it is not worth my while ; ye will know
soon enough.”

“ By my honour, Allan,” said Lord Menteith, « you
will weary out your friends with this intolerable, fro-
ward, and sullen humour.—But I know the reason,”
added he, laughing; “ you have not seen Annot Lyle to-
day.”

“Whom did you say I had not seen?” said Allan,
sternly.

“ Annot Lyle, the fairy queen of song and minstrelsy,”
said Lord Menteith.

‘Would to God I were never to see her again,” said
Allan, sighing, “ on condition the same weird were laid
m you.”

“ And why on me?” said Lord Menteith, carelessly

“ Because,” said Allan, “it is written on your forehead,
that you are to be the ruin of each other.” So saying,
he rose up and left the room.

“Has he been long in this way °” asked Lord Men
teith, addressing his brother.A LEGEND Of MONTROSE. 29

“ About three days,” answered Angus; “ the fit is weel-
aivh over, he will be better to-morrow. But come, gen-
tlemen, don’t let the tappit-hen scraugh to be emptied.
The King’s health, King Charles’s health! and may the
covenanting dog that refuses it, go to Heaven by tke road
of the Grassmarket.”

The health was quickly pledged, and as fast succeeded
by another and another, and another, all of a party cast,
and enforced in an earnest manner. Captain Dalgetty,
however, thought it necessary to enter a protest.

“ Gentlemen cavaliers,’ he said, “I drink these
healths, primo, both out of respect to this honourable
and . pitable roof-tree, and, seeundo, because I hold it
not good to be. preceese in such matters, inter pocula ;
but I protest, agreeable to the warrandice granted by this
honourable lord, that it shall be free to me, notwithstand-
ing my present complaisance, to take service with the
Covenanters to-morrow, provided I shall be so minded.”

M:Aulay and his English guests stared at this declara-
tion, which would have certainly bred new disturbance,
if Lord Menteith had not taken up the affair, and ex-
plained the circumstances and conditions. “I trust,” he
concluded, “we shall be able to secure Captain Dalgetty’s
assistance to our own party.”

“ And if not,” said the Laird, “I protest, as the Cap-
tain says, that Sn that has passed this evening, not
even his having eaten my bread and salt, and pledged me
in brandy, Bourdeaux, or usquebaugh, shall prejudice my
cleaving him to the neckbone.”

“ You shall be heartily welcome,” said the Captain,
“ provided my sword cannot keep my head, which it has
done in worse dangers than your feud is likely to make
for me.”satiety
te:

——

ee siaieladianas Pea

Lona

50 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

Here Lord Menteith again in terposed, and the concord
of the comp: any being with no small di {ficulty restored,
was cemented by some deep carouses. Lord Menteith,
however, contrived to break up the party earlier than
was the usage of ee castle, under pretence of {ati: gue
and indirposition. This was somewhat to the disappoint-
ment of the valiant Captain, who, among other habits
acquired in the Low countries, had acquired both a dis-
position to drink, and a capacity to bear, an exorbitant
quantity of strong liquors.

Their landlord ushered them in person to a sort of
sleeping gallery, in which there was a four-post bed, with
tartan curtains and a number of cribs, or long hampers,
placed along tne wall, three of which, well stuffed with
blooming heather, were prepared for the reception of
guests.

‘“T need not tell your lordship,” said M‘Aulay to Lord
Menteith, a little apart, “our Highland mode of quarter-
ing. Only that, not liki Ing you should sleep in the room
alone with this German land l-louper, I have caused your
Servants’ beds to be made here in the aallery By
Gd, my lord; these are times when men go to- bed
with a throat hale and sound as ever swallowed brandy,
and Ee fore next morning it may be gaping like an oyster-
shell.’ °

Lord Menteith thanked him sincere ly, s saying, “ It was

just the arrangement he would have req juested ; for, ‘al-
though he had not the least apprehension of vieletive from
Captain Dalgetty, yet Anderson was a better kind of per-
son, a sort of gentleman, whom he always liked to have
near his person.”

“T have not seen this Anderson,” said M‘Aulay ; “ did
ou hire him in England ? ”A LEGEND OF MONTROS:. 31

“T did so,” said Lord Menteith; « you will see the
man to-morrow; in the meantime [ wish you good-
night.”

His host left tae apartment after the evening saluta-
tion, and was about to pay the same compliment to Cap.
tain Dalgetty, but observing him deeply engaged in the
discussion of a huge pitcher filled with brandy-possct,
he thought it a pity to disturb him in so laudable an
employment, and took his leave without farther cer-
emony. E

Lord Menteith’s two attendants entered the apartment
almost immediately after his departure. The good Cap-
tain, who was now somewhat encumbered with his good
cheer, began to find the undoing of the clasps of his ar-
mour a task somewhat difficult, and addressed Anderson
in these words, interrupted by a slight hiccup,— Ander-
son, my good friend, you may read in Scripture, that he
that putteth off his-armour should not boast himself like
he that putteth it on—I believe that is not the right word
of command; but the plain truth of it is, I am like to
sleep in my corselet, like many an honest fellow that never
waked again, unless you unloose this buckle.”

“Undo his armour, Sibbald,” said Anderson to the other
servant.

“By St. Andrew!” exclaimed the Captain, turning
round in great astonishment, “ here’s a common fellow—
a stipendiary with four pounds a-year and a livery cloak,
thinks himself too good to serve Ritt-Master Dugald Dal-
getty of Drumthwacket, who has studied humanity at
the Mareschal College of Aberdeen, and served half the
princes of Kurope!”

“ Captain Dalgetty,” said Lord Menteith, whose lot it
was to stand peacemaker throughout the evening, “ please—

SEE. mere

oe WAVERLEY NOVELS.

to understand that Anderson waits upon no one but my-
self; but I will help Sibbald to undo your corselet with
mich pleasure.”

“Too much trouble for you, my lord,” said ‘Dalgetty ;
“and yet it would do you no harm to practise how a
landsome harness is put on and put off. I ear step
and out of mine like a glove; only to-night, aithough
not ebrous, I am, in the classic phrase, vino etboque gra-
pus.”

sy this time he was unshelled, and ‘stood before the
fire musing with a face of drunken wisdom on the events
of the evening. What seemed chiefly to interest him,
vas the character of Allan M‘Aulay. To come over the
{nelishman so cleverly with his Highland torch-bearers

—eight bare-breeched Rories for six silver candlesticks !

 

—it was a master-piece—a tour-de-passe—it was pertect
legerdemain—and to be a madman after all!—I doubt
greatly,.my lord,” (shaking his head,) “that I must allow
him, notwithstanding his relationship to your lordship, the
privileges of a rational person, and either batoon him suf.
ficiently to expiate the violence offered to my person, or
else bring it to a matter of mortal arbitrament, as becom-
eth an insulted cavalier.”

“If you care to hear a long story,” said Lord Menteith,
“at this time of night, I can tell you how the circum-
stances of Allan’s birth account so well for his singular
character, as to put such satisfaction entirely out of the
question.”

“ A long story, my lord,” said Captain Dalgetty, “is,
next to a good evening draught and a warm night-cap,
the best shoeing-horn for drawing on a sound sleep. And
since your lordship is pleased to take the trouble to tell it,
{ shall rest your patient and obliged audit p».”A LEGEND OF MONTROSE. 30

‘ Anderson,” said Lord Menteith, “and jou, Sibbald,
are dying to hear, I suppose, of this strange man too;
and I believe I must indulge your curiosity, that you may
know how to behave to him in time of need. You had
better step to the fire then.”

Having thus assembled an audience about him, Lord
Menteith sat down upon the edge of the four-post bed,
while Captain Dalgetty, wiping the relics of the posset
from his beard and moustachoes, and repeating the first
rerse of the Lutheran psalm, Alle guter getster loben den
Herrn, &c., rolled himself into one of the places of re-
pose, and thrusting his shock pate from between the
blankets, listened to Lord Menteith’s relation in a most
luxurious state, between sleeping and waking.

“The father,” said Lord Menteith, “ of the two brothers,
Angus and Allan M‘Aulay, was a gentleman of consider-
ation and family, being the chief of a Highland clan, of
good account, though not numerous ;, his lady, the mother
of these young men, was a*gentlewoman of good family,
if I may be permitted to say so of one nearly connected
with my own. Her brother, an honourable and spirited
young man, obtained from James the Sixth a grant of
forestry, and other privileges, over a royal chase, adja-
cent to this castle; and, in exercising and defending
these rights, he was so unfortunate as to involve himself
in a quarrel with some of our Highland freebooters, or
caterans, of whom, I think, Captain Dalgetty, you must
have heard.”

“ And that I have,” said the Captain, exerting himself
‘o answer the appeal. “ Before I left the Mareschal Col-
lege of Aberdeen, Dugald Garr was playing the devil in
he Garioch, and the Farquharsons on Dee-side, and the
“lan Chattan on the Gordon’s lands, and the Grants and

2
VOL. XII 4;

PARE Ree

&
vy

pi

WAVERLEY NOVELS.

Camerons in Morayland. And since that, I have seen
the Cravats and Pandours in Pannonia and Tr: ansylvania,
and the Cossacks from the Polish fr ontier, and robbers,
banditti, and barbarians of all countries besides, so that J
have a distinct idea of your broken Highlandmen.”

“ The clan,” said Lord Menteith, “with whom the ma-
ternal uncle of the

q : Y ‘ Bf {' J
ays had been placed in feud,
was a small Sept or bandaitti, called,-from their houseless

ering among the moun-

} ©

state, and their incessant tly wan

dren of the Mist. They are a

fierce and h: ardy people, with all the irrit: ability, and wild
p )

and ve nget ul passions oroper to men who have hever
i ? i

and glens, the 7} ile

he Vl

known the restraint of civilized society. A party of
them a) in wait for the unfortunate Warden of the
Forest, sur prised him while hunti ting alone and unatte snded,
and slew him with every circumstance of inventive cruelty.
They cut off his head, and resoly ed, in a bravado, to ex-
hibit it at the castle of his brother-in-law. The laird was
absent, and the lady reluctantly received as guests, men
against whom, perhaps, she was afraid to shut her gates.
Refreshments were placed before the .Child ren of the
Mist, who took an opportunity to take the head of their
victim from the plaid in which it was wrapt, placed it on
the table, put a piece of bread between the lifeless jaws,
bidding them a their office now, since ma ny a good meal
they had eaten at that table. The lady, who had been
absent for some household purpose, entered at this moment,
and, upon beholding her eae s head, fled like an arrow
put of the house into the woods, uttering shriek upen
shriek. The ruffians, satisfied with an savage triumph,
withdrew. The terrified menials, after overcoming the
alarm to which they had been subjected, sought their

unfortunale mistress in every direction, but she was noA LEGEND OF MONTROSE. 30

where to be found. The miserable husband returned
next day, and, with the assistance of his people, undertook
a more anxious and distant search, but to equally little
purpose. It was believed universally, that, in the ecstasy
of her terror, she must either have thrown herself over
ene of the numerous precipices which overhang the river,
er into a deep lake about a mile from the castle. Her
loss was the more lamented, as she was six months ad+
vanced in her pregnancy; Angus M‘Aulay, her. eldest
son, having been born about eighteen months before.-—
But I tire you, Captain Dalgetty, and you seem inclined
to sleep.”

“By no means,” answered the soldier ; “I am no whit
somnolent I always hear best with my eyes shut. It is
a fashion I learned when I stood sentinel.”
said Lord Menteith, aside to An-

2

“ And -I. dare say,’
derson, “the weight of the halberd of the sergeant of the
round often made him open them.”

Being apparently, however, in the humour of story:
telling, the young nobleman went on, addressing himself
chiefly to his servants, without minding the slumbering
veteran.

+ Every baron in the country,” said he, “now swore
revenge for this dreadful crime. They took arms with
the relations and brother-in-law of the murdered person,
and the Children of the Mist were hunted down, I believe,
with as little mercy as they had themselves manifested.
Seventeen heads, the bloody trophies of their vengeance,
were distributed among the allies, and fed the crows upon
the gates of their castles. The survivors sought out moré
distant wildernesses, to which they retreated.”

“To your right hand, counter-march, and retreat to
jour former ground,” said Captain Dalgetty the mibtary-
~

RRS ae tetn

of YAR or

 

BS WAVERLEY NOVELS.

phrase having produced the correspondent word of com-
mand; and then starting up, professed he had been pro.
foundly attentive to every word that had been spoken.
SL as oe custom. in summer,” said Lord Menteith,
without attending to his apology, “to send the cows to tha
upland pa stures to have the benefit of the grass; and the
maids of the village, and of the family, go there to milk
them in the morning and evening. While thus employed,
the females of this family, to their great terror, perceived
that their motions were watched at a distance by a pale,
thin, meagre figure, bearing a strong resemblance to their
deceased mistress, and passing, of course, for her appa-
rition. When some of the boldest resolved to approach
this faded form it fled from them into the woods with a

wild shriek. The husband, informed of this circumstance,

ame up to the glen with some attendants, and took his
measures so well as to intercept the retreat of the unhappy
fugitive, and to secure the person of his unfortunate lady,
though her intellect proved to be totally deranged. How
she supported herself during her wandering in the woods,
sould not be known

                   

sed she lived upon roots
and wild berries, with which the woods at that season
abounded ; but the greater part of the vulgar were satis-
fied that she must have subsisted upon the milk of the
wild does, or been nourished by the fairies, or supported

in some manner equally marvellous. Her re-appearance

|
was more easily accounted for. She had seen ee the
thicket, the milking of the cows, to superintend which had

een her favourite domestic employment, ane the habi

be
op

l

had prevailed even in her deranged state of mind.
“In due season the unfortunate lady was delivered of a

boy who not only shewed no appearance of having suf-

‘ered from his mother’s calamities, but appeared to be auA LEGEND OF MONTROSE. 37

at
Infant of uncommon health and strength. The unhappy

mother, after her confinement, recovered her reason—at
least in a great measure, but never her health and x spirits.
Allan was her only joy. Her attention to him was un-
remitting; and unquestionably she must have impressed
upon his varly mind many of those superstitious ideas to
which his moody and enthusiastic temper gave so ready a
reception. She died when he was about ten years old.
Her last words were spoken to him in private; but there
is little doubt that they conveyed an injunction of ven-
geance upon the Children of the Mist, with which he has
since paply complied.

“From this moment the habits of Allan M‘Aula 1y were
totally changed. He had hitherto been his mother’s con-
stant companion, listening to her dreams, and repeating
his own, and feeding his imagination,-which, probably
from the circumstances preceding his birth, was consti-
tutionally deranged, with all the wild and terrible super-
stitions so common to the mountaineers, to which his
unfortunate mother had become much addicted since her
brother’s death. By living in this manner, the boy had
gotten a timid, wild, startled look, loved to seek ont soli-
tary places in the woods, and was never so much terrified
as by the approach of children of the same age. I
remember, although some years younger, being brought
up here by my father upon a visit, nor can I forget the
astonishment with which I saw this infant hermit shun
every attempt I made to engage him in the sports natarat
to our age. I can remember his father bewailing his dis-
position to mine, and alleging, at the same time, that it
was impossible for him to take from his wife the company
of the boy, as he seemed to be the only consolation that

this world, and as the amusement

 

remained to her mSpee Raiabianaes

38 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

which Allan’s socie ty afforded her seemed to prevent the
recurrence, at least in its full force, of that fesirful ma lady
by which she had been visited. But, after the death of
his mother, the habits and manners of the boy seemed at
once to change. It is true he remained as thoughtful and
serious as before ; and long fits of silence and abs raction
shewed plainly that his disposition, in this res spect, was in
no degree altered. But at other times , he sought out the
rendezvous of the youth of the clan, which he had hitherto
seemed anxious to avoid. He took share in all their exer-
cises ; and, from his very extraordinary personal strength,
soon excelled his brother and other youths, whose age
considerably exceeded his own. They who had hitherto
held him in contempt, now feared, if they did not love
him ; and, instead of Allan’s being esteemed a dreaming,
womanish, and feeble-minded boy, those who encountered
him in sports or military exercise, now complained that,
when heated by the strife, he was too apt to turn game
into earnest, and to forget that he was only engaged in a
friendly trial of strength.—But I speak to regardless
ears,’ said Lord Menteith. seein himself, for the
Captain’s nose now gave the most indisputable sions that
he was fast locked in the arms of oblivion,

“If you mean the ears of that snorting swine, my lord,”
said Anderson, “ they are, indeed, shut to any aoe that
you can say; nevertheless, this sae ice being unfit for more
private conference, I hope you will have the ae
lo proceed, for Sibbald’s benefit and for mine. The
history of this poor young fellow has a de eep and wild
interest in it.”

“You must know, then.” proceeded Lord Menteith,
“that Allan continued to increase in strength and activity

till his fifteenth year, about which time he assumed aA LEGEND OF MONTROSE 39

total independence of character, and impatience of con-
trol, which much alarmed his surviving parent. He was
absent in the woods for whole days and nights, under
pretence of hunting, though he did not awe bring home
game. His father was the more alarmed , because several
of the Children of the Mist, enco uraged bs the increasing
troubles of the state. had ve itured back to their old h: aunts,
nor did he think it altogcther safe to renew any attack
upon them. The risk of Allan, in his wanderings,
gustaining injury oe these vindictive freebooters, was a
perpetual source of apprehension.

“I was myself upon a visit to the castle when this
matter was brought to a crisis. Allan had been absent
since daybreak in the woods, where I had sought for him
In vain; it was a dark stormy night, and he did not
return. His father expressed the utmost anxiety, and
spoke of detaching a party at the dawn of morning in
quest of him; when, as we were sitting at the supper-
tabie, the door suddenly opened, and- Allan entered the
room with a proud, firm, and confident air. His intracta-

2

bility of ees as well as the unsettled state of his mind,
had such an influence over his father, that he suppressed
all other tokens of displeasure, excepting the observation
that I had killed a fat buck, and had returned before sun-

ret, while he supposed Allan, who had been on the hill

till midnight, had returned with empty hands. ‘ Are you
sure of that?’ said Allan, fiercely; ‘here is something

will tell you another tale.’
“We now observed his hands were bloody, and that
there were spots of blood en his face, and waited the issue

the corner of

>

lamp,

with impatience; when suddenly, undoing
7 ) + Oo 6 } Yy yy Os
his plaid, he rolled down on the table a human San

7 iV be » Né ey 1 *-Q 6 4 2
Sloody and new severed, saying at the same time, ‘ Lieee

IY MRR CR ma #

See

a.

£0 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

thou where the head of a better man lay before ye.
From the haggard features, and matted red hair and
beard, partly grizzled with age, his father and others
present recognised the head of Hector of the Mist, a well-
known leader among the outlaws, redoubted for strength
and ferocity, who had been active in the murder of the
unfortunate Forester, uncle to Allan, and had escaped by
a desperate defence and extraordinary agility, when so
many of his companions were destroyed. We were all, it
may be believed, struck with surprise, but Allan refused
to gratify our curiosity; and we only conjectured that
he must have overcome the outlaw after a desperate
struggle, because we discovered that he had sustained
several wounds from the contest. All measures were
now taken to ensure him against the vengeance of the
freebooters ; but neither his wounds, nor the positive
command of his father, nor even the locking of the gates
of the castle and the doors of his apartment, were precau-
tions adequate to prevent Allan from seeking out the very
yersons to whom he was peculiarly obnoxious. He made

I
his escape by night from the window of the apartment,

=>
<

and laughing at his father’s vain care, produced on one
eccasion the head of one, and upon another those of two,
of the Children of the Mist. At length these men, fierce
as they were, became appalled by the inveterate animosity
and audacity with which Allan sought out their recesses.
As he never hesitated to encounter any odds, they con-
eluded ‘that he must bear a charmed lie, or fight under
the guardianship of some supernatural influence. Neither
gun, dirk, nor dourlach,* they said, availed aught against

him. T 1ey imputed this to the remarkable circumstances

* Dourlach—quiver ; literally, satchel—of arrows.A LEGEND OF MONTROSE. 4]

ander which he was born; and at length five or six of
the stoutest caterans of the Highlands would have fled at
Allan’s ne or the blast of his horn.

“Tn the meanwhile, however, the Children of the Mist
earried on their old trade, and did the M‘Aulays, as well
as their kinsmen and allies, as much mischief as they
could. ‘This provoked another expedition against the
tribe, in which I had my share; we surprised them
effectually, by besetting at once the upper and under
se of the country, and made such clean work as is
usual on these occasions, burning and slaying right before
us. In this terrible species of war, even the females and
the helpless do not always escape. One little maiden
alone, who smiled upon Allan’s drawn dirk, escaped his
vengeance upon my earnest entreaty. She was brought
to the castle, and here bred up under the name of Annot
Lyle, the most beautiful little fairy certainly that ever
danced upon a heath by moonlight. It was long ere
Allan could endure the presence of the child, until it
occurred to his imagination, from her features perhaps,
that she did not belong to the hated blood of his enemies,
but had become their captive in some of their incursions:
a circumstance not in itself impossible, but in which he
believes as firmly as in holy writ. He is particularly
delighted by her skill in music, which is so exquisite, that
she far exceeds the best performers in this country in
playing on the clairshach, or harp. It was discovered
that this produced upon the disturbed spirits of Allan,
his gloomiest moods, beneficial effects, similar to re
experienced by the Jewish monarch of old; and so en-
gaging is the temper of Annot Lyle, so fascinating the
innocence and gaiety of her disposition, that she is con-
sidered and treated in the castle rather as the sister of the42 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

proprietor, than as a dependent upon his charity. Indeed,
it 18 impossible for any one to see her without being
deeply interested by the ingenuity, liveliness, and sweet-
ness of her disposition.”

“'Take care, my lord,” said Anderson, smiling ; “ there
is danger in such violent commendations. Allan M‘Aulay,
as your lordship describes him, would prove no very safe

rival.”
“Pooh! pooch!” said Lord Menteith, laughing, yet

blushing at the same time; “Allan is not accessible to
the passion of love; and for myself,’ said he, more
gravely, “ Annot’s unknown birth is a sufficient reason
against serious designs, and her unprotected state pre-
cludes every other.”

“Jt is spoken like yourself, my lord,” said Anderson.
— “But I trust you will proceed with your interesting
story.”

“Tt is well-nigh finished,’ said Lord Menteith; “I
have only to add, that from the great strength and
courage of Allan M‘Aulay, from his energetic and un-
controllable disposition, and from an opinion generally
entertained and encouraged by himself, that he holds
communion with supernatural beings, and can_ predict
future events, the clan pay a much greater degree of
deference to him than even to his brother, who is a bold-
hearted rattling Highlander, but with nothing which can
possibly rival the extraordinary character of his younger
brother.”

“Such a character,” said Anderson, “cannot but have
the deepest effect on the minds of a Highland host. We
must secure Allan, my lord, at all events. What between
his bravery and his second sight——~”

 

“ Hush!” said Lord Menteith, “that owl is awakine.A LEGEND OF MONTROSE. 43

“Do you talk of the second sight, or deuteroscopia?”
paid the soldier; “I remember memorable Major Munro
telling me how Murdoch Mackenzie, born in Assint, a
private gentleman in a company, and a pretty soldier,
foretold the death of Donald Tough, a Lochaber man, and
certain. other persons, as well as the hurt of the Major
lumself at a sudden onfall at the siege of Trailsund.”

“T have often heard of this faculty,” observed Ander-
son, “but I have always thought those pretending to it
were either enthusiasts or impostors

“T should be loath,” said Lord Menteith, “to apply
either character to my kinsman Allan M‘Aulay. He
has shown on many occasions too much acuteness and
sense, of which you this night had an instance, for the
character of an enthusiast ; and his high sense of honour,
and manliness of disposition, free him from the charge of
imposture.”

“Your lordship, then,’ said Anderson, “is a believer

99

“By no means,” said the young nobleman; “I think

n his supernatural attributes?

that he persuades himself that the predictions, which are,
in reality, the result of juagment and reflection, are super-

wea

natural impressions on his mind, just as fanatics conceive
the workings of their own imagination to be divine in-
spiration—at least, if this will not serve you, Anderson,
I have no better explanation to give; and it is time w?

were all asleep after the toilsome journey of the day ”iene. ee =

—

em na

“rome

  

44 WAVERLEY NOVELS

CHAPTER VI.

Coming events cast their shadows before.

CAMPBELL.

At an early hour in the morning the guests of the
castle sprung from their repose; and, after a moment’s
private conversation with his attendants, Lord Menteith
addressed the soldier, who was seated in a corner burnish-
ing his corselet with rot-stone and shamois-leather, while
he hummed the old song in honour of the victorious
Gustavus Adolphus,—

‘‘ When cannons are roaring, and bullets are flying,
The lad that would have honour, boys, must never fear dying.”

“Captain Dalgetty,” said Lord Menteith, “the time is
come that we must part, or become comrades in service.”

“Not before breakfast, I hope?” said Captain Dal-
getty.

“I should have thought,” replied his lordship, “ that
your garrison was victualled for three days at least.”

“1 have still some stowage left for beef and bannocks,”
said the Captain; “and I never miss a favourable oppor-
tunity of renewing my supplies.”

“ Bat,” said Lord Menteith, “no judicious commander
allows either flags of truce or neutrals to remain in his
vamp longer than is prudent; and therefore we must
know your mind exactly, according to which you shallA LEGEND OF MONTROSE. 45

either have a safe-conduct. to depart in peace, or be wel.
come to remain with us.”

“ Truly,” said the Captain, “that being the case, I
will not attempt to protract the capitulation by a counter-
feited parley, (a thing excellently practised by Sir Jameg
Ramsay at the siege of Hannau, in the year of God
1636,) but I will frankly own, that if I like your pay as
well as your provant and your company, I care not how
soon I take the oath to your colours.”

“Our pay,” said Lord Menteith, “must at present be
small, since it is paid out of the common stock raised by
the few amongst us who can command some funds—As
major and adjutant, I dare not promise Captain Dalgetty
more than half a dollar a-day.”

“The devil take all halves and quarters!” said the
Captain; “ were it in my option, I could no more consent
to the halving of that dollar, than the woman in the Judg-
ment of Solomon to the disseverment of the child of her
bowels.”

“The parallel will scarce hold, Captain Dalgetty, for I
think you would rather’ consent to the dividing of the
dollar, than give it up entire to your competitor. How-
ever, in the way of arrears, I may promise you the other
half-dollar at the end of the campaign.”

“ Ah! these arrearages!” said Captain Dalgetty, “ that
are always promised, and always go for nothing! Spain,
Austria, and Sweden, all sing one song. Oh! long life
to the Hoganmogans ! if they were no officers or-soldiers,
they were good pay-masters.—And-yet, my lord, if I
rould but be made certiorate that my natural heredita-
ment of Drumthwacket had fallen into possession of any
«* these loons of Covenanters, who could be, in the event
of our success, conveniently made a traitor of, I have soas «

46 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

much value for that fertile and pleasant spot, that I would
e’en take on with you for the campaign.”

“T can resolve Captain Dalgetty’s question,” said Sib-
bald, Lord Menteith’s second attendant ; “ for if his estate
of Drumthwacket be, as I conceive, the long waste moor
so called, that lies five miles south of Aberdeen, I can tell
him it was lately purchased by Elias Strachan, as rank a
rebel as ever swore the Covenant.”

“The crop-eared hound!” said Captain Dalgetty, in a
rage ; “ what the devil gave him the assurance to purchase
the inheritance of a family of four hundred years stand-

: ‘
Woe
>

 

Cynthius aurem vellet, as we used to say at Mare-
schal College; that is to say, I will pull him out of my
father’s house by the ears. And so, my Lord Menteith,
Jam yours, hand and sword, body and soul, till death do
us part, or to the end of the next campaign, whichever
event shall first come to pass.”

“And I,” said the young nobleman, “rivet the bargain
by a month’s pay in advance.”

“That is more than necessary,” said Dalgetty, pocket-
ing the money, however. “ But now I must go down,
look after my war-saddle and abuilziements, and see that
Gustavus has his morning, and tell him we have taken
new service.”

“Phere goes your precious recruit,” said Lord Men
teith to Anderson, as the Captain left the room; “I fea

5

1
|
A

we shall have little credit of him.”

“He is a man of the times, however,” said Anderson;
“and without such we should hardly be able to carry on
our enterprise.”

“Let us go down,” answered Lord. Menteith, “and
see how our muster is likely to thrive, for I hear « good

2

weal of bustle in the castle.’A LEGEND OF MONTROSR. 47

When they entered the hall, the domestics keeping
modestly in the back-ground, morning greetings passed
between Lord Menteith, Angus M‘Aulay, and his Enelish
guests, while Allan, occupying the same settle which he
had filled the preceding evening, paid no attention what-
ever to any one.

Old Donald hastily rushed into the apartment. “A
message from Vich Alister More,* he is coming up in
the evening.”

“ With how many attendants?” said M‘Aulay.

“Some five-and-twenty or thirty,” said Donald, “ his
ordinary retinue.”

“ Shake down plenty of straw in the great barn,” said
the Laird.

Another servant here: stumbled hastily in, announcing
the expected approach of Sir Hector M‘Lean, “ who is
arriving with a large following.”

“Put them in the malt-kiln,” said M‘Aulay; “and
keep the breadth of the midden-stead between them and
the M‘Donalds ; they are but unfriends to each other.”

Donald now re-entered, his visage considerably length-
ened—“ The teil’s 7’ the folk,” he said ; “the haill Hielands
are asteer, | think. Evan Dhu, of Lochiel, will be here
in an hour, with Lord kens how many gillies.”

“ Into the great barn with them beside the M‘Donalds,”
said the Laird.

More and more chiefs were announced, the least of
whom would have accounted it derogatory to his dignity
to stir without a retinue of six or seven persons. To
every new annunciation, Angus M‘Aulay answered by
naming some place of accommodation,—the stables, the
loft, the cow-house, the sheds, every domestic office were

* The patronymic of MacDonell of Glengarry.4&8 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

   
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
 

destined for the night to some hospitable purpose or other.
At length the arrival of M‘Dougal of Lorn, after all his
means of accommodation were exhausted, reduced him
to some perplexity. ‘“ What the devil is to be done,
Donald?” said he; “the great barn would hold fifty
more, if they would lie heads and thraws; but there
would be drawn dirks amang them which should te
uppermost, and so we should have bloody puddings
before morning!”

“ What needs all this?” said Allan, starting up, and
coming forward with the stern abruptness of his usual
manner; “are the Gael to-day of softer flesh or whiter

lood than their fathers were? Knock the head out of a

cask of usquebae; let that be their night-gear—their
plaids their bed-clothes—the blue sky their canopy, and
the heather their couch.—Come a thousand more, and
they would not quarrel on the broad heath for want of
room.”

“Allan is right,’ said his brother; “it is very odd
how Allan, who, between ourselves,” said he to Musgrave,
“is a little wowf,* seems at times to have more sense
than us all put together. Observe him now.”

“ Yes,” continued Allan, fixing his eyes with a ghastly
stare upon the opposite side of the hall, “they may well
begin as they are to end; many a man will sleep this
night upon the heath, that when the Martinmas wind shall
blow shall lie there stark enough, and reck little of cold
or lack of covering.” .

“ Do not forespeak us, brother,” said Angus; “ that is
not lucky.”

“And what luck is it then that you expect?’ said

Allan; and straining his eyes until they almost started

o

* Wows i.e, crazed.A

 

LEGEND OF MONTROSE. 49

from their sockets, he fell with a convulsive shudder into
the arms of Donald and his brother, who, knowing the
nature of his fits, had come near to prevent his fall.
They seated him upon a bench, and supported him until
he came to himself, and was about to speak.

“For God’s sake, Allan,” said his brother, who knew
the impression his mystical words were likely to make on
many of the guests, “say nothing to discourage us.”

“Am I he who discourages you?” said Allan; “let
every man face his weird as I shall face mine. That
which must come, will come ; and we shall stride gallantly
over many a field of victory, ere we reach yon fatal
slaughter-place, or tread yon sable scaffolds.”

“What slaughter-place ? what scaffolds?” exclaimed
several voices ; for Allan’s renown as a seer was generally
established in the Highlands.

“ You will know that but too soon,” answered Allan.
“Speak to me no more, I am weary of your questions.”
He then pressed his hand against his brow, rested his
elbow upon his knee, and sunk into a deep reverie.

“ Send for Annot Lyle and the harp,” said Angus, in a
whisper, to his servant, “and let those gentlemen follow
me who do not fear a Highland breakfast.”

All accompanied their hospitable landlord excepting
only Lord Menteith, who lingered in one of the deep
embrasures formed by the windows of the hall. Annot
Lyle shortly after glided into the room, not ill described
by Lord Menteith as being the lightest and most fairy
Sgure that ever trod the turf by moonlight. Her stature,
considerably less than the ordinary size of women, gave
her the appearance of extreme youth, insomuch, that
nlthough she was near eighteen, she might have passed
for four years younger. Her figure, hands, and feet

VOL. XII. 4SSM oss

50 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

were formed upon a model of exquisite symmetry with
the size and lightness of her person, so that Titania her-
self could scarce have found a more fitting representative.
Her hair was a dark shade of the colour usually termed
flaxen, whose clustering ringlets suited admirably with
her fair complexion, and with the playful, yet simple,
expression of her features. When we add to these
charms, that Annot, in ber orphan state, seemed the
gayest and happiest of maidens, the reader must allow
us to claim for her the interest of almost all who looked
on her. In fact, it was impossible to find a more universal
favourite, and she often came among the rude inhabitants
of the castle, as Allan himself, in a poetical mood, ex-
pressed it, “like a sunbeam ona sullen sea,’ communi-
cating to all others the cheerfulness that filled her own
mind.

Annot, such as we have described her, smiled and
blushed, when, on entering the apartment, Lord Menteith
eame from his place of retirement, and kindly wished her
good morning.

“ And good-morning to you, my lord,” returned she,
extending her hand to her friend, “ we have seldom seen
you of late at the castle, and now I fear it is with no
peaceful purpose.”

“ At least, let me not interrupt your harmony, Annot,”
said Lord Menteith, “though my arrival may breed dis-
cord elsewhere. My cousin Allan needs the assistance
of your voice and music.”

“ My preserver,” said Annot Lyle, “has a right to my
poor exertions; and you, too, my lord,—you, too, are my
preserver, and were the most active to save a life that ig
worthless enough, unless it can benefit my protectors.”
So saying, she sate down at a little distance upon theA LEGEND OF MONTROSE. a1

bench on which Allan M‘Aulay was placed, and tuning
her clairshach, a small harp, about thirty inches in height,
she accompanied it with her voice. The air was an
ancient Gaelic melody, and the words, which were sup-
posed to be very od, were in the same language ; but we
subjoin a translation of them, by Secundus Macpherson,
Esq. of Glenforgen, which, although submitted to the
fetters of English rhythm, we trust will be found nearly
RS genuine as the version of Ossian by his celebrated

namesake.
1.

“Birds of omen, dark and foul,
Night-crow, raven, bat, and owl,
Leave the sick man to his dream—
All night long he heard your scream—
Haste to cave and ruin’d tower,
Ivy, tod, or dingled bower,
There to wink and mope, for, hark!
In the mid air sings the lark.

2.

‘“‘ Hie to moorish gills and rocks,
Prowling wolf and wily fox,—

Hie you fast, nor turn your view,
Though the lamb bleats to the ewe.
Couch your trains, and speed your flight,
Safety parts with parting night;

And on distant echo borne,

Comes the hunter’s early horn.

3.
‘¢The moon’s wan crescent scarcely gleams,
Ghost-like she fades in morning beams;
Hie hence each peevish imp and fay,
That scare the pilgrim on his way : —
Quench, kelpy ! quench, in bog and fen,
Thy torch that cheats benighted men};
Thy dance is o’er, thy reign is done,
For Benyieglo hath seen the sun.*
RRS Prana

 

WAVERLEY, NOVELS.

4.

“ Wild thoughts, that, sinful, dark, and deep,
O’erpower the passive mind in sleep.

Pass from the slumberer’s soul away,

Like night mists from the brow of day:

Foul hag, whose blasted visage grim,
Smothers the pulse, unnerves the limb,
Spur thy dark palfrey, and begone!

Thou darest not face the godlike sun.”

As the strain proceeded, Allan M‘Aulay gradually
yave signs of recovering his presence of mind, and
attention to the objects around him. The deep-knit fur-
rows of his brow relaxed and smoothed themselves; and
the rest of his features, which had seemed contorted with
internal agony, relapsed into a more natural state. When
he raised his head and sat upright, his countenance, though
still deeply melancholy, was divested of its wildness and
ferocity ; and in its composed state, although by no means
handsome, the expression of his features was striking,
manly, and even noble. His thick, brown eyebrows,
which had hitherto been drawn close together, were now
slightly separated, as in the natural state; and his grey
eyes, which had rolled and flashed from under them with
an unnatural and portentous gleam, now recovered a
steady and determined expression.

“Thank God!” he said, after sitting silent for about a
minute, until the very last sounds of the harp had ceased
to vibrate, “my soul is no longer darkened
hath passed from my spirit.”

“You owe thanks, Cousin Allan,” said Lord Menteith,
coming forward, “to Annot Lyle, as well as to Heaven,
‘or this happy change in your melancholy mood.”

“My noble cousin Menteith,” said Allan, rising and
greeting him very respectfully, as well as kindly, “has

 

the mistA LEGEND OF MONTROSE, BTS

known my unhappy circumstances so long, that his sood-
ness will require no excuse for my being thus ate in

bidding him welcome to the castle.”

¢ v3 i . “ . °

‘We are too old acquaintances, Allan,” said Lerd
Ta 2] 66 ‘On 7
Menteith, “ and too good friends, to stand on the ceremo-
nial of outward greeting; but half the Highlanders will

be here to-day, and you know, with our mountain Chiefs,

ceremony must not be neglected.

What will you give

little Annot for making you nt company to meet Evan
Dau, and I know not how many bonnets and feathers ?”

“ What will he give me?” said Annot, smiling ;

g ; noth-

ing less, I hope, than the best ribbon at the Fair of

Doune.”

“The Fair of Doune, Annot?” said Allan, sadly ;
“there will be bloody work before that day, and I may
never see it; but you have well reminded me of what I

have long intended to do.”
Having said this he left the room.

“Shovld he talk long m this manner,” said Lord

Menteith, “you must keep your harp in tune, my dear

Annot.”

“TI hope not,” said Annot, anxiously ; “ this fit has been

a long one, and probably will not soon return. It is

fearful to see a mind, naturally generous and aifectionate,

afflicted by this constitutional malady.”

As she spoke in a low and confidential tone, Lord

Menteith naturally drew close, and stooped forward, that

he might the better catch the. sense of what she said.

When Allan suddenly entered the

apartment, they as

naturally drew back from each other with a manner ex-

pressive of consciousness, as if surprised in a conversation

which they wished to keep secret from him. ‘This did

not escape Allan’s observation; he stopt short at the door54 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

of the apartment—his brows were contracted—his eyes
rolled; but it was only the paroxysm of a moment. He
passed his broad sinewy hand across his brow, as if to
obliterate these signs of emotion, and advanced towards
Annot, holding in his hand a very small box, made of oak-
wood, curiously inlaid. “ I take you to witness,” he said,
“cousin Menteith, that I give this box and its contents te
Annot Lyle. It contains a few ornaments that belonged
to my poor mother—of trifling value, you may guess, for
the wife of a Highland laird has seldom a rich jewel-
casket.”

“But these ornaments,” said Annot Lyle, gently and
timidly refusing the box, “belong to the family—I cannot

33

 

| accept
} | “They belong to me alone, Annot, said Allan, inter-
‘ rupting her; “they were my mother’s dying bequest.
{ They are all I can call my own, except my plaid and

my claymore. Take them, therefore—they are to me
valueless trinkets—and keep them for my sake—should
I never return from these wars.”

 

So saying, he opened the case, and presented it to
f Aa Annot. “If,” said he, “ they are of any value, dispose of
them for your own support, when this house has been
consumed with hostile fire, and can no longer afford you
protection. But keep one ring in memory of Allan, who
has done, to requite your kindness, if not all he wished, at
least all he could.” 3
Annot Lyle endeavoured in vain to restrain the gather-
ing tears, when she said, “ One ring, Allan, I will accept
from you as a memorial of your goodness to a poor
orphan, but do not press me to take more ; for I cannot,
and will not, accept a gift of such disproportioned value.”
“ Make your choice, then,” said Allan ; “ your delicacy

VF&

A LEGEND OF MONTROSE. ds

may be well founded ; the others will assume a shape in
which they may be more useful to you.”

“Think not of it,” said Annot, choosing from the con-
tents of the casket a ring, apparently the most trifling in
value which it contained; “keep them for your own, or
your brother’s bride——But, good heavens!” she said,
interrupting herself, and looking at the ring, “ what is
this that 1 have chosen ?”

Allan hastened to look upon it, with eyes of gloomy
apprehension ; it bore, in-enamel, a death’s head above
two crossed daggers. When Allan recognised the device,
he uttered a sigh so deep, that she dropped the ring from
her hand, which rolled upon the floor. Lord Menteith
picked it up, and returned it to the terrified Annot.

“T take God to witness,” said Allan, in a solemn tone,
“that your hand, young lord, and not mine, has again
delivered to her this ill-omened gift. It was the mourn-
ing ring worn by my mother in memorial of her murdered
brother.”

“YT fear no omens,” said Annot, smiling through her
tears; “and nothing coming through the hands of my
two patrons,” so she was wont to call Lord Menteith and
Allan, “can bring bad luck to the poor orphan.”

She put the ring on her finger, and, turning to her
harp, sung, to a lively air, the following verses of one of
the fashionable songs of the period, which had found its
way, marked as it was with the quaint hyperbolical taste
of King Charles’s time, from some court masque to the
wilds of Perthshire :-—

‘ Gaze not upon the stars, fond sage,
In them no influence lies;
To read the fate of youth or age,
Look on my Helen’s eyes.‘te AS maim

+

amine
oh, Pe ape n-, rm

mcm

PBT. Arte apes

WAVERLEY NOVELS.

“ Yet, rash astrologer, refrain!
Too dearly would be won
The prescience of another’s pain,
If purchased by thine own.’’

« She is right, Allan,” said Lord Menteith ; “and this
end of an old song is worth all we shall gain by our
attempt to look into futurity.”

“ She is WRONG, my lord,” said Allan, sternly, “though
you, who treat with lightness the warnings I have given
you, may not live to see the event of the omen.—Laugh
10t so scornfully,” he added, interrupting himself, “ or
rather laugh on as loud and as long as you will; your
term of laughter will find a pause ere long.”

“TI care not for your visions, Allan,” said Lord Men-
teith; “however short my span of life, the eye of no
Highland seer can see its termination.”

“For Heaven’s sake,” said Annot Lyle, interrupting
him, “you know his nature, and how little he can en-
?

dure——’

“Fear me not,” said Allan, interrupting her,—“ my
mind is now constant and calm.—But for you, young
lord,” said he, turning to Lord Menteith, “my eye has
sought you through fields of battle, where Highlanders
and Lowlanders lay strewed as thick as ever the rooks
sat on those ancient trees,” pointing to a rookery which
yas seen from the window—* my eye sought you, but
your corpse was not there—my eye sought you among a
train of unresisting and disarmed captives, drawn up
within the bounding walls of an ancient and rugged
fortress ;—flash after flash—platoon after platoon—the
hostile shct fell amongst them, they dropped like the dry

feaves in autumn, but you were not among their ranks
—scaffolds were prepared—blocks were arranged, saw-A LEGEND OF MONTROSE. oF

dust was spread—the priest was ready with his book, the
beadsman with his axe—but there, too, mine eye found
you not.”

“The gibbet, then, I Suppose, must be my doom?”
said Lord Menteith. “Yet [I wish they had spared me
the halter, were it but for the dignity of the peerage.”

He spoke this scorntully, yet not without a sort of
curiosity, and a wish to receive an answer ; for the de-
sire of prying into futurity frequently has some influence
even on the minds of those who disavow all belief in the
possibility of such predictions.

“ Your rank, my lord, will suffer no dishonour in your
person, or by the manner of your death. Three times
have I seen a Highlander plant his dirk in your bosom—
and such will be your fate.”

“I wish you would describe him to me,” said Lord
Menteith, “and I shall save him the trouble of fulfilling
your prophecy, if his plaid be passable to sword or
pistol.”

“Your weapons,” said Allan, “would avail you little ;
nor can I give you the information you desire. The
face of the vision has been ever averted from me.”

“So be it then,” said Lord Menteith, “and let it rest
in the uncertainty in which your augury has placed it.
I shall dine not the less merrily among plaids, and dirks,
and kilts to-day.”

‘““It may be so,” said Allan; “and, it may be, you do
well to enjoy these moments, which to me are poisoned
by auguries of future evil. But I,” he continued—* I
repeat to you, that this weapon—that is, such a weapon
as this,’ touching the hilt of the dirk which he wore,
‘carries your fate.”

“Tn the meanwhile,” said Lord Menteith, “you, Allan,58 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

have frightened the blood from the cheeks of Annot Ly'e
—let us leave this discourse, my friend, and go to see
what we both understand,—the progress of our military

preparations.”

They joined Angus M‘Aulay and his English guests,
and, in the military discussions which immediately-took
place, Allan shewed a clearness of mind, strength of
judgment, and precision of thought, totally inconsistent
with the mystical light in which his character has heen
hitherto exhibited.A LEGEND OF MONTROSE. oy

CHAPTER VI.

When Albin her claymore indignantly draws,

When her bonneted chieftains around her shall crowd,

Clan-Ranald, the dauntless, and Moray the proud,

All plaided and plumed in their tartan array
LOCHIEL’3 WARNING.

 

WHOEVER saw that morning the Castle of Darnlin-
yarach, beheld a busy and a gallant sight.

The various Chiefs, arriving with their different reti-
nues, which, notwithstanding their numbers, formed no
more than their usual equipage and body-guard upon
occasions of solemnity, saluted the lord of the castle and
each other with overflowing kindness, or with haughty
and distant politeness, according to the circumstances of
friendship or hostility in which their clans had recently
stood to each other. Each Chief, however small his
comparative importance, shewed the full disposition to
exact from the rest the deference due to a separate and
independent prince; while the stronger and more power-
ful, divided among themselves by recent contentions or
ancient feuds, were constrained in policy to use great
deference to the feelings of their less powerful brethren,
r, in case of need, to attach as many well-wishers
as might be to their own interest and standard. ‘Thus
the meeting of Chiefs resembled not a little those ancient
Diets of the Empire, where the smallest Frey-graf, who
sed a castle perched upon a barren crag, with a

in orde

BOSSESPEE. con

50 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

few hundred acres around it, claimed the state and
honours of a sovereign prince, and a seat according te his
rank among the dignitaries of the Empire.

The followers of the different leaders were separately
arranged and accommodated, as room and circumstances
best permitted, each retaming however his henchman,
who waited, close as the shadow upon his person, to

execute whatever might be required by his patron.

The exterior of the castle afforded a singular scene.
The Highlanders, from different islands, glens, and straths,
eyed each other_at a distance with looks of emulation,
Inquisitive curiosity, or hostile malevolence; but the most
astounding part of the assembly, at least to a Lowland
ear, was the rival performance of the bagpipers. These
warlike minstrels, who had the highest opinion each of
the superiority of his own tribe, joined to the most over-
weening idea of the importance connected with his profes-
sion, at first performed their various pibrochs in front
each of his own clan. -At length, however, as the black-
cocks towards the end of the season, when, in sportsman’s
language, they are said to flock or crowd, attracted
together by the sound of each other’s triumphant crow,
even so did the pipers, swelling their plaids and tartans
in the same triumphant manner in which the birds ruffle
up their feathers, begin to approach each other within
such distance as might give to their brethren a sample of
their skill, Walking within a short interval, and eyeing
eack other with looks in which self-importance and defi-
ance might be traced, they strutted, puffed, and plied their
Screaming instruments, each playing his own favourite
tune with such a din, that if an Italian musician had lain
buried within ten miles of them, he must have risen from
the dead to run out of hearingA LEGEND OF MONTROSE. 61

The Chieftains meanwhile had assembled in close con:
tlave in the great hall of the castle. Among them were
the persons of the greatest consequence in the Highlands,
some of them attracted by zeal for the royal cause, and
many by aversion to that severe and general domination
which the Marquis of Argyle, since his rising to such
influence in the state, had exercised over his Highland
neighbours. That statesman, indeed, though possessed
of considerable abilities, and great power, had failings,
which rendered him unpopular among the Highland chiefs.
The devotion which he professed was of a morose and
fanatical character; his ambition appeared to be insatiable,
and inferior chiefs complained of his want of bounty and
liberality. Add to this, that although a Highlander, and
of a family distinguished for valour before and since,
Gillespie Grumach* (which, from an obliquity in his
eyes, was the personal distinction he bore in the High-
lands, where titles of rank are unknown) was suspected
of being a better man in the cabinet than in the field.
He and his tribe were particularly obnoxious to the
M‘Donalds and the M‘Leans, two numerous septs, who,
though disunited by ancient feuds, agreed in an intense
dislike to the Campbells, or, as they were called, the
Children of Diarmid.

For some time the assembled Chiefs remained silent,
until some one should open the business of the meeting.
At length, one of the most powerful of them commenced
the diet by saying,—“ We have been summoned hither,
M‘Aulay, to consult of weighty matters concerning the
Kino’s affairs, and those of the state ; and we crave tc
know by whom they are to be explained to us?”

M‘Aulay, whose strength did not lie in oratory, ints

* Grumach,—ill-favoured.ee

awe

52 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

mated his wish that Lord Menteith should open the
business of the council. With great modesty, and at
the same time with spirit, that young lord said, “he
wished what he was about to propose had come from
some person of better known and more established
character. Since, however, it lay with him to be spokes-
man, he had to state to the Chiefs assembled, that those
who wished to throw off the base yoke which fanaticism
had endeavoured to wreath round their necks, hed not
a moment to lose. The Covenanters,” he said, ‘ after
having twice made war upon their sovereign, and having
extorted from him every request, reasonable or unreason-
able, which they thought proper to demand—after their
Chiefs had been loaded with dignities and favours—after
having publicly declared, when _ his Majesty, after a
gracious visit to the land of his nativity, was upon his
return to England, that he returned a contented king
from a contented people,

 

after all this, and without even
the pretext for a national grievance, the same men have,
upon doubts and suspicions, equally dishonourable to the
King, and groundless in themselves, detached a strong
army to assist his rebels in England, in a quarrel with
which Scotland had no more to do than she has with the
wars in Germany. It was well,” he said, “that the
eagerness with which this treasonable purpose was
vursued, had blinded the junta who now usurped the
government of Scotland to the risk which they were
about to incur. The army which they had despatched
to England under old Leven comprehended their veteran
soldiers, the strength of those armies which had been
levied in Scotland during the two former wars——~”
Here Captain Dalgetty endeavoured to rise, for the
purpose of explaining how many veteran officers, trainedA LEGEND OF MONTROSR. bad

n the German wars, were, to his certain knowledge, in
the army of the Karl of Leven. But Allan M‘Aulay,
holding him down in his seat with one hand, pressed the
fore-fager of the other upon his own lips, and, though
with some difficulty, prevented his interference. Captain
Dalgetty looked upon him with a very scornful and indig-
nant air, by which the other’s gravity was in no way
moved, and Lord Mentieth proceeded without farther
mterruption.

“'The moment,” he said, “was most favourable for all
true-hearted and loyal Scotsmen to shew, that the reproach
their country had lately undergone arose from the selfish
ambition of a few turbulent and seditious men, joined to
the absurd fanaticism which, disseminated from five
hundred pulpits, had spread like a land-flood over the
Lowlands of Scotland. He had letters from the Marquis
of Huntly in the north, which he should shew to the
Chiefs separately. That nobleman, equally loyal and
powerful, was determined to exert his utmost energy in
the common cause, and the powerful Earl of Seaforth
was prepared to join the same standard. From the Earl
of Airly, and the Ogilvies in Angus-shire, he had had
communications equally decided; and there was no doubt
that these, who, with the Hays, Leiths, Burnets, and
other loyal gentlemen, would soon be on horseback, would
form a body far more than sufficient to overawe the
northern Covenanters, who had already experienced
their valour in the well-known rout which was popularly
termed the Trot of Turiff. South of Forth and Tay,”
he said, “ the King had many friends, who, oppressed by
enforced oaths, compulsatory levies, heavy taxes, unjustly
imposed and unequally levied, by the tyranny of the
Committee of Estates, and the inquisitorial insolence of64

      

WAVERLEY NOVELS.

the Presbyterian divines, waited but the waving of the

royal banner to take up arms.

Douglas, Traquair, Rox-

burgh,. Hume, all friendly to the royal cause, would

counterbalance,” he said, “the Covenanting interest in

the south; and two gentlemen, of name and qualit here
9 S 9

present, from the north of

gland, would answer for the

zeal of Cumberland, Westmoreland, and Northumberland.

Against so many gallant gentlemen tl
anters could but arm raw levies ;

1e southern Coven-

the Whigamores of the

wostern shires, and the ploughmen and mechanics of the

Low-cou ntry.

For the West Highlands, he knew no

interest which the Covenanters possessed there, except

that of one individual, as wel] known as he was odious.

But was there

round this hall,

and the dignity

a single man, who, on casting his eye
and recognising the power, the gallantry,
of the Chiefs assembled, could entertain a

moment’s doubt of their success against the utmost force

which Gillespie Grumach could collect against them?
He had only farther to add, that considerable funds, both
of money and ammunition, had been provided for the
army,’—(Here Dalgetty pricked up his ears)—“ that
officers of ability and experience in the foreign wars, one
of whom was now present,” (the Captain drew himself
up, and looked round,) “had engaged to train such levies

as might require to be disciplined ;

—and that a numerous

body of auxiliary forces from Treland, having been
detached from the Earl of Antrim, from Ulster, had

successfully accomplished tl

1eir descent upon the main

land, and, with the assistance of Clanranald’s people,
having taken and fortified the Castle of Mingarry, in

spite of Argyle’s attempts to inte

he said, “that the noble Chiefs assembled, laying aside

rcept them, were in full
march to this place of rendezvous.

It only remained,”A LEGEND OF MONTROSE. 63

every lesser consideration, should unite, heart and hand,
in the common cause; send the fiery cross thiough their
clans, in order to collet their utmost force, and form their
junction with such celerity as to leave the enemy no
time, either for preparation, or recovery from the panie
which would spread at the first sound of their | broch.
Ife himself,” he said, “ though neither among the richest
hor the must powerful of the Scottish nobility, felt that
he had to support the dignity of an ancient and honour-
able house, the independence of an ancient and honourable
nation, and to that. cause he was determined to devote
both life and fortune. If those who were more power-
ful were equally prompt, he trusted they would deserve
the ek of their King, and the gratitude of pos-
terity.’

Loud applause followed this speech of Lord Menteith,
and testified the general acquiescence of all present in the
sentiments which he had expressed; but when the shout
had died away, the assembled Chiefs continued to gaze
upon each other as if something yet remained to be
settled. After some whispers among themselves, an
aged man, whom his grey hairs rendered respectable,
althougl: he was not of the highest order of Chiefs, replied
to what had been said.

“ Thane of Menteith,” he said, “ you have well spoken;
nor is there one of ts in whose bosom the same senti-
ments do not burn like fire.. But it is not strength alone
that wins the fight; it is the head of the commander, as
well as the arm of the ‘soldier, that brings victory. I ask
of you, who is to raise and sustain the banner under
which we are invited to rise and muster ourselves? Will
rt be expected that we should risk our children, 8 the
fower of our kinsmen, ere we know to whose guilanca

VOL. XIf.ae

etal .
ERB 3

Op Fae

66 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

they are to be intrusted? This were leading those to
slaughter, whom, by the laws of God and man, it is our
duty to protect. Where is the royal commission, under
which the lieges are to be convocated in arms ? Simple
and rude as we may be deemed, we know something of
the established rules of war, as well as of the laws of our
country ; nor will we arm ourselves against the general
peace of Scotland, unless by the express commands of the
King, and under a leader fit to command such men as are
here assembled.”

“Where would you find such a leader,” said another
Chief, starting up, “saving the representative of the Lord
of the Isles, entitled by birth and hereditary descent to
lead forth the array of every clan of the Highlands ; and
where is that dignity lodged, save in the house of Vich
Alister More ?”

“TI acknowledge,

>

said another Chief, eager ly interrupt-
ing the speaker, “the truth in what has been first said,
but not the inference. If Vich Alister More desires to
be held representative of the Lord of the Isles, let him
first shew his blood is redder than mine.”

“That is soon tried,’ said Vich Alister More, laying
his hand upon the basket hilt of his claymore. Lord
Menteith threw himself between them, entreating and
imploring each to remember that the interests of Scotland,
the liberty of their country, and the cause of their King,
ought to be superior in their eyes to any personal dis-
putes respecting descent, rank, and precedence. Several
6f the Highland Chiefs, who had no desire to admit the
claims of either chieftain, interfered to the same pur-
pose, and none with more emphasis than the celebrated

Evan Dhu.

“TF have come from my lakes,” he said, “as a streamA LEGEND OF MONTROSE. 674

descends. from the hills, not to turn again, but to accom-
plish my course. It is not by looking back to our own
pretensions that we shall serve Scotland or King Charles.
My voice shall be for that general whom the King shall
name, who will doubtless possess those qualities which
aré necessary to command men like us. High-born he
must be, or we shall lose our rank in obeying him—wise
und. skilful, or we shall endanger the safety of our people
-——bravest among the brave, or we shall peril our own
honour—-temperate, firm, and manly, to keep us united.
Such is the man that must command us. Are you pre-
pared, Thane of Menteith, to say where such a general is
to be found ?”

“There is but ons,” said Allan M‘Aulay; “and
here,” he said, laying his hand upon the shoulder of
Anderson, who stood behind Lord Menteith, “here he
stands !”

The general surprise of the meeting was expressed by
an impatient murmur; when Anderson, throwing back
the cloak in which his face was muffled, and stepping for-
ward, spoke thus:—“JI did not long intend to be a silent
spectator of this interesting scene, although my hasty
friend has obliged me to disclose myself somewhat sooner
than was my intention. Whether I deserve the honour
reposed in me by this parchment, will best appear from
what I shall be able to do for the King’s service. It isa
commission, under the great seal, to James Graham,
Earl of Montrose, to command those forces which are
to be assembled for the service-of his Majesty in this
cingdom.”

A loud shout of approbation burst from the assembly.
There was, in fact, no other person to whom, in point of
eank, these proud mountaineers would have been disposed68 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

to submit. His inveterate and hereditary hostility to the
Marquis of Argyle insured his engaging in the war with

sufficient energy, While his well-known military talents,
and his tried valour, afforded every hepe of his bringing
it to a favourable issue.A LEGEND OF MONTROSE.

CHAPTER VIII.

Our plot is as good a plot as ever was laid; our friends true and constant.
» good plot, good friends, and full of expectation : an excellent plot, very good
friends.

Henry IV. Part I.

No sooner had the general acclamation of joyful sur-
prise subsided, than silence was eagerly demanded for
reading the royal commission; and the bonnets, which
hitherto éach Chief had worn, probably because unwilling
to be the first to uncover, were now at once vailed in
honour of the royal warrant. It was couched in the most
full and ample terms, authorizing the varl of Montrose
to assemble the subjects in arms, for the putting down the
present rebellion, which divers traitors and seditious
persons had levied against the King, to the manifest
forfaulture, as it stated, of their allegiance, and to the
breach of the pacification between the two kingdoms. it
enjoined all subordinate authorities’ to be obedient and
assisting to Montrose in his enterprise; gave him the
power of making ordinances and proclamations, punishing
misdemeanours, pardoning criminals, placing and dis-
placing governors and commanders. In fine, it was as
a commission as any with which a prince
sould intrust a subject. As soon as it was finished, a
-hout burst from the assembled Chiefs, in testimony of
their ready submission to the will of their sovereign.

‘arg? and full

Not contented with generally thanking them for a recepay PO — APR Ie «ate,

* Se

Eee:

Bea ci

° I +

60 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

tion so favourable, Montrose hastened to address himself
io individuals. ‘The most important Chiefs had already
been long personally known to him, but even to those of
inferior consequence he now introduced himself, and by
the acquaintance he displayed with their peculiar designa-
tions, and the circumstances and history of their clans, he
shewed how long he must have studied the character of
the mountaineers, and prepared himself for such a situa-
tion as he now held.

While he was engaged in these acts of courtesy, his
graceful manner, expressive features, and dignity of de
portment, made a singular contrast with the coarseness
and meanness of his dress. Montrose possessed that sort
of form and face, in which the beholder r, at the first glance,
sees nothing extraordinary, but of which the interest be-
comes more impressive the longer we gaze upon them.
His stature was very little above the middle size, but in
person he was uncommonly well-built, and capable both
of exerting great force, and enduring much fatigue. In
fact, he enjoyed a constitution of iron, without which he
could not have sustained the trials of his extraordinary

campaigns, through all of which he subjected himself to
the hardships of the meanest soldier. He was perfect in
all exercises, whether peaceful or martial, and possessed,
of course, that graceful ease of de ‘portment proper to thosa
to whom habit has rendered all postures easy.

His long brown hair, according to the custom of men
of quality among the Royalists, was parted on the t top of
his head, and trained to hang down on each side in curled
locks, one of which, descending two or three inches lower
than the others, intimated Montrose’s compliance with
that fashion against which it pleased Mr. Prynne, the
puritan, to write a treatise, entitled, “The UnlovelinesgA LEGEND OF MONTROSE. 71

of Love-locks.” The features which these tresses en-
closed, were of that kind which derive their interest from
the character of the man, rather than from the regularity
of their form. But a high nose, a full, decided, well-
opened, quick grey eye, and a sanguine complexion, made
amends for some coarseness and irregularity in the subor-
dinate parts of the face; so that, altogether, Montrose
might be termed rather a handsome, than a hard-featured
man. But those who saw him when his soul looked
through those eyes with all the energy and fire of genius
—those who heard him speak with the authority of talent,
and the eloquence of nature, were impressed with an
opinion even of his external form, more enthusiastically
favourable than the portraits which still survive would
entitle us to ascribe to it. Such, at least, was the impres-
sion he made upon the assembled Chiefs of the moun-
taineers, over whom, as” upon all persons in their state
of society, personal appearance has no small influence.
In the discussions which followed his discovering him
self, Montrose explained the various risks which he had
run in his present undertaking. His first attempt had
been to assemble a body of loyalists in the north of Eng-
land, who, in obedience to the orders of the Marquis of
Newcastle, he expected would have marched into Scot-
land ; but the disinclination of the English to cross the
Border, andthe delay of the Earl of Antrim, who was te
have landed in the Solway Firth with his Irish army, pre-
verted his executing this design. Other plans having in
like manner failed, he stated that he found himself under
the necessity of assuming a disguise to render his passage
secure through the Lowlands, in which he had been kindly
assisted by his kinsman of Menteith. By what means
Allan M‘Aulay had come to-know hin, he could not pre-co WAVERLEY NOVELS.

tend to explain. Those who knew Allan’s prophetie
pretensions smiled mysteriously ; but he himself only re-
plied, that the “ Karl of Montrose need not be surprised
if he was known to thousands, of whom he himself could
retain no memory.”

“ By the honour of a cavalier,” said Captain Dalgetty
finding at length an opportunity to thrust in his word, “I
am proud and happy in having an opportunity of drawing
a sword under your lordship’s command; and I do forgive
all grudge, malecontent, and malice of my heart, to Mr.
Allan M‘Aulay, for having thrust me down to-the lowest
seat of the board yestreen. Certes, he hath this day
spoken so ike aman having full command.of his senses,
that I had resolved in my secret purpose that he was
no way entitled to claim the privilege of insanity. But
since I was only postponed to a noble earl, my future
commander-in-chief, I do, before you all, recognise, the
justice of the.preference, and heartily salute Allan as one
who is to be his don-camarado.”

Having made this speech, which was little understood
or attended to, without putting off his military glove, he
seized on Allan’s hand, and began to shake it with vio-
lence, which Allan, with a gripe like a smith’s vice,
returned with such force, as to drive the iron splents of
the gauntlet into the hand of the wearer.

Captain Dalgetty might have construed this into a new
affront, had not his attention, as he stood blowing and
shaking the injured member, been suddenly called by
Montrose himself.

“Hear this news,” he said, “Captain Dalgetty—I
thould say Major Dalgetty,—the Trish, who are to proiit
by your military experience, are now within a few leagues

1 as,”

~A LEGEND OF MONTROSR. lo

“ Our deer-stalkers,” said Angus M‘Aulay, “ who were
abroad to bring in venison for this honourable party, have
heard of a band of strangers, speaking neither Saxon nor
pure Gaelic, and with difficulty making themselves under-
Stood by the people of the country, who are marching this
Way in arms, under the leading, it is said, of Alaster
M‘Donald, who is commonly called Young Colkitto.”

“These must be our men,” said Montrose ; “we must
hasten to send messengers forward, both to act as guides
and to relieve their wants.”

“The last,” said Angus M‘Aulay, “will be no easy
matter; for I am informed, that, excepting muskets, and
a very little ammunition, they want every thing that
soldiers should have; and they are particularly deficient
in money, in shoes, and in raiment.”

“There is at least no use in saying so,” said Montrose,
“in so loud a tone. The puritan wearers of Glasgow
shall provide them with plenty of broad-cloth, when we
make a descent from the Highlands ; and if the ministers
could formerly preach the old women of the Scottish bor-
oughs out of their webs of napery, to make tents to the
fellows on Dunse Law,* I will try whether I have not
a little interest both to make these godly dames renew
their patriotic gift, and the prick-eared knaves their hus-
bands, open their purses.”

“ And respecting arms,” said Captain Dalgetty, “if your
lordship will permit an old cavalier to speak his mind, so
that the one third have muskets, my darling weapon would
be the pike for the remainder, whether for resisting a
charge of horse, or for breaking the infantry. A common
smith will make a hundred pike-heads in a day; here is

* The Covenanters encamped on Dunse Law during the troubles
of 1639.PR Rtg:

— zs ae

WAVERLEY NOVELS.

   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
   
  
   
 
 
  
  
 
  
 
 

plenty of wood for shafts; and I will uphold, that, accord:
ing to the best usages of war, a strong battalion of pikes,
drawn up in the fashion of the Lion of the North, the
immortal Gustavus, would beat the Macedonian phalanx,
of which I-used to read in the Mareschal College, when I
studied in the ancient town of Bon-Accord; and farther,
I will venture to predicate g

 

The Captain’s lecture upon tactics was here suddenly
interrupted by Allan M‘Aulay, who said, hastily, “ Room.
for an unexpected and unwelcome guest !”

At the same moment, the door of the hall opened, and
a grey-haired man, of a very stately appearance, presented
himself to the assembly. There was much dignity, and
even authority, in his manner. His stature was above
the common.size, and his looks such as were used to com-
mand. He cast a severe, and almost stern glance upon
the assembly of Chiefs. Those of the higher rank among
them returned it with scornful indifference; but some of
the western gentlemen of inferior power, looked as if they
wished themselves elsewhere.

3

“To which of this assembly,” said the stranger, “am I
to address myself as leader? or have you not fixed upon
the person who is to hold an office at least as perilous as
it is honourable ? ”

“ Address yourself to me, Sir Duncan Campbell,” said
Montrose, stepping forward.

“To you!” ‘said Sir Duncan Campbell, with some
scorn.

“ Yes,—to me,” repeated Montrose,—“ to the Earl of
Montrose, if you have forgotten him.”

“T should now, at least,’ said Sir Duncan Campbell,
“have had some difficulty in recognising him in the dis-
guise of a groom.—And yet I might have guessed that noA LEGEND OF MONTROSE. te

evil inflaence inferior-to your lordship’s, distinguished as
one who troubles Israel, could have collected together this
rash assembly of misguided persons.”

“’] will answer unto you,” said Montrose, “in the man-
ner cf your own Puritans. I have not troubled Israel,
but thou and thy father’s house.-—But let us leave an
altercation, which is of little consequence but to ourselves,
and hear the tidings you have brought from your Chief
of Argyle; for I must conclude that it is in his name that
you have come to this meeting.”

“Tt is in the name of the Marquis of Argyle,” said Sir
Duncan Campbell,—“ in the name of the Scottish Con-
vention of Estates, that I demand to know the meaning
of this singular convocation. If it is designed to disturb
the peace of the country, it were but acting like neigh-
bours and men of honour, to give us some intimation to
stand upon our guard.”

“Tt is a singular, and new state of affairs in Scotland,”
said Montrose, turning from Sir Duncan Campbell to the
assembly, “ when Scottish men of rank and family cannot
meet in the house of a common friend without an inquisi-
torial visit and demand, on the part of our rulers, to know
the subject of our conference. Methinks our ancestors
were accustomed to hold Highland huntings, or other pur-
poses of meeting, without asking the leave either of the
ereat M‘Callum More himself, or any of his emissaries or
dependents.”

“The times have been such in Scotland,” answered
one of the western Chiefs, “ and such they will again be,
when the intruders on our ancient possessions are again
reduced to be Lairds of Lochow, instead of overspreading

1s like a band of devouring locusts.”
«“ Am I to understand, then,” said Sir Duncan. “ that16 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

it is against my name alone that these preparations are
directed ? or are the race of Diarmid only to be sufferers
in common with the whole of the peaceful and orderly
inhabitants of Scotland ? ” 3

“TI would ask,” said a wild-looking Chief, starting has- —
tily up, “one question of the Knight of Ardenvohr, ere
he proceeds farther in his daring catechism.—Has he
brought more than one life to this castle, that he ventures
to intrude among us for the purposes of insult ?”

“Gentlemen,” said Montrose, “let me implore your
patience ; a messenger who comes among us for the pur-
pose of embassy, is entitled to freedom of speech and a
safe conduct. And since Sir Duncan Campbell is so
pressing, I care not if I inform him, for his guidance, that
he is in an assembly of the KXing’s loyal subjects, con-
voked by me, in his Majesty’s name ‘and authority, and ag
empowered by his Majesty’s royal commission.”

“We are to have, then, I presume,” said Sir Duncan
Campbell, “a civil war in all its forms ? I have been too
long a soldier to view its approach with anxiety ; but it
would have been for my Lord of Montrose’s honour, if, in
this matter, he had consulted his own ambition less, and
the peace of the country more.”

“Those consulted their own ambition and self-interest,
Sir Duncan,” answered Montrose, “ who brought the coun-
try to the pass in which it now Stands, and rendered nee-
essary the sharp remedies which we are now reluctantly
obliged to use.”

“And what rank ar ong these self-seekers,” said Sir
Duncan Campbell, “shall we assign to a noble Earl, so
violently attached to the Covenant, that he was the first,
in 1639, to cross the Tyne, wading middle deep, at the

head of his regiment, to charge the royal forces? Tt wasA LEGEND OF MONTROSE. sco ag

the same, I think, who imposed the Covenant upon the
burgesses and colleges of Aberdeen, at the point of sword
aad pike.”

“T understand your sneer, Sir Duncan,” said Montrose,
temperately ; “and I can only add, that if sincere repent-
ance can make amends for youthful error, and for yield-
ing to the artful representation of ambitious hypocrites, }
shall be pardoned for the crimes with which you taunt me
{ will at least endeavour to deserve forgiveness, for | am
here, with my sword in my hand, willing to spend the best
blood of my body to make amends for my error; and
mortal man can do no more.”

“Well, my lord,” said Sir Duncan, “T shall be sorry
to carry back this language to the Marquis of Argyle. I
had it in farther charge from the Marquis, that, to pre-
vent the bloody feuds which must necessarily follow a
Highland war, his lordship will be contented if terms of
truce could be arranged to the north of the Highland
line, as there is ground enough in Scotland to fight upon,
without neighbours destroying each other’s families and
inheritances.”

“Tt is a peaceful proposal,” said Montrose, smiling,
such as it should be, coming from one whose personal
actions have always been more peaceful than his meas:
ures. Yet, if the terms of such a truce could be equally
fixed, and if we can obtain security,—for that, Sir Dun-

 

can is indispensable,—that your Marquis will observe
these terms with strict fidelity, 1, for my part, should be
content to leave peace behind us, since we must needs
earry war before us. But, Sir Duncan, you are too old
and experienced a soldier for us to permit you to remain
in our leaguer, and witness our proceedings: we shall,
cherefore, when you have refreshed yourself, recommend—

Rap TET eens

i8 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

your speedy return to Inverary, and we shafl send with
you a gentleman on our part to adjust the terms of the
Highland armistice, in case the Marquis shall be found
serious in proposing such a measure.” Sir Duncan Camp-
bell assented by a bow.

“My Lord of Menteith,” continued Montrose, “ will
you have the goodness to attend Sir Duncan Campbell of
Ardenvohr, while we determine who shall return with
him to his Chief? M‘Aulay will permit us to request
that he be entertained with suitable hospitality.”

“J will give orders for that,” said Allan M‘Aulay, rise
ing and coming forward. “I love Sir Duncan Campbell ;
we have been joint sufferers in former days, and I do not
forget it now.”

“ My Lord of Menteith,” said Sir Duncan Campbell,
“I am grieved to see you, at your early age, engaged in
such desperate and rebellious courses.”

“I am young,” answered Menteith, “ yet old enough
to distinguish between right and wrong, between loy-
alty and rebellion; and the sooner a good course is
begun, the longer and the better have I a chance of run-
ning it.” |

“ And you, too, my friend, Allan M‘Aulay,” said Sir
Duncan, taking his hand, “ must we also call each other
enemies, that have been so often allied against a common
foe?” ‘Then turning round to the meeting, he said, “ Fare-
well, gentlemen ; there are so many of you to whom I wish
well, that your rejection of all terms of mediation gives
me deep affliction. May Heaven,” he said, looking up-
wards, “judge between our motives, and those of the mov-
ers of this civil commotion.”

“ Amen,” said Montrose; “to that tribunal we all sub-
mit is.”A LEGEND OF MONTROSE. 7G

Sir Duncan Campbell left the hall, accompanied by
Allan M‘Aulay and Lord Menteith. « There goes a true-
bred Campbell,” said Montrose. as the envoy departed ;
“for they are ever fair and false.” |

“ Pardon me, my lord,” said Evan Dhu; “ hereditary
euemy as I am to their name, I have ever found the
knight of Ardenvohr brave in war, honest in peace, and
true ix council.”

“ Of his own disposition,” said Montrose, “such he is
undoubtedly ; but he now acts as the organ or mouth-
piece of his Chief, the Marquis, the falsest man that
ever drew breath. And, M‘Aulay,” he continued in a
whisper to his host, “lest he should make some impres-
sion upon the inexperience of Menteith, or the singular
disposition of your brother, you had better send music into
their chamber, to prevent his inveigling them into any
private conference.”

“The devil a musician have IJ,” answered M‘Aulay,
“excepting the piper, who has nearly broke his wind
by an ambitious contention for- superiority with three
of his own craft; but I can send Annot Lyle and her
harp.” And he left the apartment to give orders ac-
cordingly.

Meanwhile a warm discussion took place, who. should
undertake the perilous task of returning with Sir Duncan
to Inverary. To the higher dignitaries, accustomed to
consider themselves upon an equality even with M‘Cal-
lum More, this was an office not to be proposed; unto
others who could not plead the same excuse, it was alto-
eether unacceptable. One would have thought Inverary
had been the Valley of the Shadow of Death, the inferior
chiefs shewed such reluctance to approach it. After a
considerable hesitation, the plain reason was at lengthrs

ey,

ae

nae

alpen. epee

PS Nee se

80 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

spoken out, namely, that whatever Highlander should
undertake an office so distasteful to M‘Callum More, he
would be sure to treasure the offence in his remem-
brance, and one day or other to make him bitterly repent
of it.

In this dilemma, Montrose, who considered the pro-
posed armistice as a mere stratagem on the part of
Argyle, although he had not ventured bluntly to reject
it in presence of those whom it concerned so nearly,
resolved to impose the danger and dignity upon Cap-
ain Dalgetty, who had neither clan nor estate in the
Highlands upon which the wrath of Argyle could wreak
itself.

* But I have a neck though,” said Dalgetty, bluntly ;
‘and what if he chooses to avenge himself upon that? I
have known a case where an honourable ambassador has
been hanged as a spy before now. Neither did the
Romans use ambassadors much more mercifully at the
siege of Capua, although I read that they only cut off
their hands and noses, put out their eyes, and suffered
them to depart in peace.”

“By my honour, Captain Dalgetty,’ said Montrose,
“ should the Marquis, contrary to the rules of war, dare
to practise any atrocity against you, you may depend
upon my taking such signal vengeance that all Scotland
shall ring of it.”

“That will do but little for Dalgetty,” returned the
Captain ; “but corragio! as the Spaniard says. With
the Iand of Promise full in view, the Moor of Drumth-
wacket, mea paupera regna, as we said at Mareschal
Sollege, I will not refuse your Excellency’s commission,
eing conscious it becomes a cavalier of honour to obey
his commanier’s orders, in defiance both of gibbet and
aword.”A LEGEND OF MONTROSE. Sl

“Gallantly resolved,” said Montrose; “and if you
will come apart with me, I will furnish you with the
conditions to be laid before M‘Callum More, upon which
we are willing to grant him a truce for his Highland
dominions.”

With these we need not trouble our readers. They
were of an evasive nature, calculated to meet a proposal
which Montrose considered to have been made only for
the purpose of gaining time. When he had put Captain
Dalgetty in complete possession of his instructions, and
when that worthy, making his military obeisance, was
near the door of his apartment, Montrose made him a
sign to return.

“J presume,” said he, “I need not remind an officer
who has served under the great Gustavus, that a little
more is required of a person sent with a flag of truce
than mere discharge of his instructions, and that his gen-
eral will expect from him on his return, some account of
the state of the enemy’s affairs, as far as they come under
his observation. In short, Captain Dalgetty, you must
be un peu clatr-voyant.”

“Ah ha! your Excellency,” said the Captain, twisting
his hard features into an inimitable expression of cunning
and intelligence, “if they do not put my head in a poke,
vhich I have known practised upon honourable soldados
who have been suspected to come upon such errands as
the present, your Excellency may rely on a preceese
narration of whatever Dugald Dalgetty shall hear or see,
were it even how many turns of tune there are in M‘Cal-
lum More’s pibroch, or how many checks in the sett of
his plaid and trews.”

‘ Enough,” answered Montrose; “ farewell, Captain
Dalgetty : and as they say that a lady’s mind is always

8

VOL XIEPete ae arg

82 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

expressed in her postscript, so I would have you think
that the most important part of your commission lies in
what I have last said to you.”

Dalgetty once more grinned intelligence, and withdrew
to victual his charger and himself, for the fatigues of his
approaching mission.

At the door of the stable,—for Gustavus always
claimed his first care——he met Angus M‘Aulay and Sir
Miles Musgrave, who had been looking at his horse;
and, after praising his points and carriage, both united in
strongly dissuading the Captain from taking an animal
of such value with him, upon his present very fatiguing
journey.

Angus painted in the most alarming colours the roads,
or rather wild tracks, by which it would be necessary for
him to travel into Argyleshire, and the wretched huts or
bothies where he would be condemned to pass the night,
and where no forage could be procured for his horse,
unless he could eat the stumps of old heather. In short,
he pronounced it absolutely impossible, that, after under-
taking such a pilgrimage, the animal could be in any case
lor military service. The Englishman strongly confirmed
ull that Angus had said, and gave himself, body and soul,
to the devil, if he thought it was not an act little short of
absolute murde- to carry a horse worth a farthing into
such a waste and inhospitable desert. Captain Dalgetty
for an instant looked steadily, first at one of the gentle-
men and next at the other, and then asked them, as if in
a state of indecision, what they would advise him to do
with Gustavus under such circumstances.

“ By the hand of my father, my dear friend,” answered
M‘Aulay, “if you leave the beast in my keeping, you
tay rely on his being fed and sorted according to hisA LEGEND OF MONTROSE. 83

worth and quality, and that upon your happy return, you
will find him as sleek as an onion, boiled in butter.”

“Or,” said Sir Miles Musgrave, “if this worthy
cavalier chooses to part with his charger for a reasonable
sum, I have some part of the silver candlesticks still
dancing the heys in my purse, which I shall be very
willing to transfer to his.”

“In brief, mine honourable friends,” said Captain Dal-
geity, again eyeing them both with an air of comic pene-
tration, “I find it would not be altogether unacceptable
to either of you, to have some token to remember the old
soldier by, in case it shall please M‘Callum More to hang
him up at the gate of his own castle. And doubtless it
would be no small satisfaction to me, in such an event,
that a noble and loyal cavalier like Sir Miles Musgrave,
or a worthy and hospitable chieftain like our excellent
landlord, should act as my executor.”

Both hastened to protest that they had no such object,
and insisted again upon the impassable character of the
Highland paths. Angus M‘Aulay mumbled over a
number of hard Gaelic names, descriptive of the difficult
passes, precipices, corries, and beals, through which he
said the road lay to Inverary, when old Donald, who had
now entered, sanctioned his master’s account of these
lifficulties, by holding up his hands, and elevating his
eyes, and shaking his head, at every guttural which
M‘Aulay pronounced. But all this did not move the
inflexible Captain.

“ My worthy friends,” said he, “ Gustavus is not new
ty the dangers of travelling, and the mountains of
Bohemia; and (no disparagement to the beals and cor-
ries Mr. Angus is pleased to mention, and of which Sir
Miles, who never <aw them, confirms the horrors) these* ~
PRR eee —_«

B4 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

mountains may compete with the vilest roads in Europe.
In fact, my horse hath a most excellent and social quality ;
for although he cannot pledge in my cup, yet we share
our ‘loaf between us, and it will be hard if he suffers
famine where cakes or bannocks are to be found. And,
to cut this matter short, I beseech you, my good friends,
to observe the state of Sir Duncan Campbell's palfrey,
which stands in that stall before us, fat and fair; and, in
return for your®anxiety on my account, I give you my
honest asseveration, that while we travel the same road,
both that palfrey and his rider shall lack for food before
either Gustavus or I.”

Having said this, he filled a large measure with corn,
and walked up with it to his charger, who by his low
whinnying neigh, his pricked ears, and his pawing, showed
how close the alliance was betwixt him and his rider
Nor did he taste his corn until he had returned his’
master’s caresses, by licking his hands and face. After
this interchange of greeting, the steed began to his prov-
ender with an eager despatch, which shewed old military
habits ; and the master after looking on the animal with
great complacency for about five minutes, said,—* Much
good may it do your honest heart, Gustavus ;—now must

go and lay in provant myself for the campaign.”

He then departed, having first saluted the Englishman
and Angus M‘Aulay, who remained looking at each other
for some time in silence, and then burst out into a fit of
laughter.

“That fellow,” said Sir Miles Musgrave, “is formed
to go through the world.”

“I shall think so too,” said M‘Aulay, “if he can slip
through M‘Callum More’s fingers as easily as he has
lone through ours.”

-A LEGEND O. MONTROSR. 85

“Do you think,” said the Englishman, “ that the Mar-
quis will not respect, in Captain Dalgetty’s person, the
laws of civilized war?”

“No more than I would respect a Lowland proclama-
tion,” said Angus M‘Aulay.— But come along, it is time
I were returning to my guests.”wae a
PEROT pra

WAVERLEY NOVELS.

 
  
  
   
  
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
  
 
 
   
    
   

CHAPTER IX.

—— In a rebellion,
When what’s not meet, but what must be, was law,
Then were they chosen; in a better hour,
Let what is meet be said it must be meet,
And throw their power i? the dust.
CORIOLANUS.

In a small apartment, remote from the rest of the
guests assembled at the castle, Sir Duncan Campbell was
presented with every species of refreshment, and respect-
fully attended by Lord Menteith, and by Allan M‘Aulay.
His discourse with the latter turned upon a sort of hunt-
ing campaign, in which they had been engaged together
against the Children of the Mist, with whom the Knight
of Ardenvohr, as well as the M‘Aulays, had a deadly and
irreconcilable feud. Sir Duncan, however, speedily en-
deavoured to lead back the conversation to the subject of
his present errand to the castle of Darnlinvarach.

“It grieved him to the very heart,” he said, “to see
that friends and neighbours, who should-stand shoulder to
shoulder, were likely to be engaged hand to hand in a
cause which so little concerned them. What signifies it,”
he said, “to the Highland Chiefs, whether King or Par-
lament got uppermost? Were it not better to let them
settle their own differences without interference, while
the Chiefs, in the meantime, took the opportunity of
establishing their. own authority in a manner not te beA LEGEND OF MONTROSE, 87

called in question hereafter by either King or Parlia-
ment?” He reminded Allan M‘Aulay that the measures
taken in the last reign to settle the peace, as was alleged,
of the Highlands, were in fact levelled at the patriarchal
power of the Chieftains ; and he mentioned the celebrated
settlement of the Fife Undertakers, as they were called,
in the Lewis, as part of a deliberate plan, formed to in-
‘roduce strangers among the Celtic tribes, to destroy by
degrees their ancient customs and mode of government,
and to despoil them of the inheritance of: their fathers.*
“ And yet,” he continued, addressing Allan, “it is for the
purpose of giving despotic authority to the monarch by
whom these designs have been nursed, that so many
Highland Chiefs are upon the point of quarrelling with,
and drawing the sword against their neighbours, allies,
and ancient confederates.”

“Tt is to my brother,” said Allan, “it is to the eldest
son of my father’s house, that the Knight of Ardenvohr
must address these remonstrances. JI am, indeed, the
brother of Angus; but in being so, I am only the first
of his clansmen, and bound to shew an example to the
others by my cheerful and ready obedience to his com-
mands.”

“The cause also,” said Lord Menteith, interposing, “is
far more general than Sir Duncan Campbell seems to

* In the reign of James VI., an attempt of rather an extraordinary
kind was made to civilize the extreme northern part of the Hebridean
Archipelago. That~monarch granted the property of the Island of
Lewis, as if it had been an unknown and savage country, to a number
of Lowland gentlemen, called undertakers, chiefly Bary: of the shire
of Fife, that they might colonize and settle there. The enterprise
was at first successful, but the natives of the island, MacLeods and
MacKenzies, rose on the Lowland adventurers, and put most of them

to the sword.a
eS

__

ae ll

B8 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

suppose it. It is neither limited to Saxon nor to Gael, to
mountain nor to strath, to Highlands nor to Lowlands.
The question is, if we will continue to be governed by
the unlimited authority assumed by a set of persons in no
respect superior to ourselves, instead of returning to the
natural government of the Prince against whom they
have rebelled. And respecting the interest of the High-
lzads in particular,” he added, “I crave Sir Duncan
Campbell’s pardop for my plainness; but it seems very
elear to me, that the only effect produced by the present
usurpation, will be the aggrandizement of one overgrown
clan at the expense of every independent Chief in the
Highlands.”

“J will not reply to you, my lord,” said Sir Duncan
Campbell, “because I know your prejudices, and from
whom they are borrowed; yet you will pardon my saying,
that being at the head of the rival branch of the House
of Graham, I have both read of and known an Earl of
Menteith, who would have disdained to have been tutored
in politics, or to have been commanded in war, by an
Earl of Montrose.”

“You. will find it in vain, Sir Duncan,” said Lord
Menteith, haughtily, “to set my vanity in arms against
my principles. The King gave my ancestors their title
and rank; and these shall never prevent my acting, in
the royal cause, under any one who is better qualified
than myself to be a commander-in-chief. Least of all,
shall any miserable jealousy prevent me from placing my
hand and sword under the guidance of the bravest, the
most loyal, the most heroic spirit among our Scottish
nobility.”

“ Pity,” said Sir Duncan Campbell, “that you cannot
add to his panegyric the farther epithets of the mostA LEGEND OF MONTROSE. 89

steady, and the most consistent. But I have no purpose
of debating these points with you, my lord,” waving his
hand, as if to avoid farther discussion ; “the die is cast
with you; allow me only to express my sorrow for the
disastrous fate to which Angus M‘Aulay’s natural rash-
ness, and your lordship’s influence, are dragging my
gallant friend Allan here, with his father’s clan, and many
a brave man besides.

“The die is cast for us all, Sir Duncan,” replied Allan,
looking gloomy, and arguing on his own hypochondriae
feelings; “the iron hand of destiny branded our fate
upon our forehead long ere we could form a wish, or raise
a finger in our own behalf. Were this otherwise, by
what means does the seer ascertain the future from those
shadowy presages which haunt his waking and his sleep-
ing eye? Nought can be foreseen but that which is
certain to happen..

Sir Duncan Campbell was about to reply, and the
darkest and most contested point of metaphysics might
have been brought into discussion betwixt two Highland
disputants, when the door opened, and Annot Lyle, with
her clairshach in her hand, entered the apartment. The
freedom of a Highland maiden was in her step and in
her eye; for, bred up in the closest intimacy with the
Laird of M‘Aulay and his brother, with Lord Menteith,
and other young men who frequented Darnlinvarach, she
possessed none of that timidity which a female, educated
chiefly among her own sex, would either have felt, or
thought necessary to assume, on an occasion like the
\ resent. .

Her dress partook of the antique, for new fashions
seldom penetrated into the Highlands, nor would they
easily have found their way to a castle inhabited chiefly

|ae

 

50

WAVERLEY NOVELS.

     

by men, whose sole occupation was war and the chase.

Yet Annot’s garments were not only becoming but even

rich.

Her open jacket, with a high collar, was composed

of blue cloth, richly embroidered, and had silver clasps

to fasten, when it pleased the wearer.

Its sleeves, which

were wide, same no lower than the elbow, and terminated

in a golden fringe ; under this upper coat, if it can be so

termed, she wore an under dress of blue satin, also richly

embroidered, but which

colour

than the upper

i
Was

several shades lighter in

garment. ‘The

petticoat was

formed of tartan silk, in the set, or pattern, of which the

colour of blue greatly prodominated, so as to remove the
tawdry effect too frequently produced in tartan, by the

mixture and strong opposition of colours.

An antique

silver chain hung round her neck, and supported the
wrest, or key, with which she tuned her instrument. A
small ruff rose above her collar, and was secured by a
brooch of some value, an old keepsake of Lord Menteith.
Her profusion of light hair almost hid her laughing eyes,

while, with a smile and a blush, she mentioned that she

had M*‘Aulay’s directions to ask them if they chose music.

Sir Duncan Campbell gazed with considerable surprise

nnd interest at the lovelv a

~

rupted his debate with Allan M‘Aulay.
“Can this,” he said to him ina whisper, “a creature

pparition, which thus inter-

sc beautiful and so elegant, be a domestic musician of

your brother’s establishment ?”

“ By no+ means,” answered Allan, hastily, yet with

some hesitation; “she is

family

 

a

 

adopted daughter of our father’s house.”

a—near relation of eur
and treated,” he added, more firmly, “as an

As he spoke thus, he arose from his seat, and with

that aur of courtesy which every Highlander can assumeA LEGEND OF MONTROSE. SL

when it suits him to practise it, he resigned it to Annot,
and offered to her, at the same time, whatever refresh-
ments the table afforded, with an assiduity which was
probably designed to give Sir Duncan an impression of
her rank and consequence. If such was Allan’s purpose,
however, it was unnecessary. Sir Duncan kept his eyes
fixed upon Annot with an expression of much deeper
interest than could: have arisen from any impression that
she was a person of consequence. Annot even felt em-
barrassed under the old knight’s steady gaze; and it was
not without considerable hesitation, that, tuning her in-
strument, and receiving an assenting look from Lord
Menteith and Allan, she executed the following ballad,
which our friend, Mr. Secundus Macpherson, whose good-
ness we had before to acknowledge, has thus translated
into the English tongue :—

THE ORPHAN MAID.

November’s hail-cloud drifts away,
November’s sunbeam wan

Looks coldly on the castle grey, g
When forth comes Lady Anne.

The orphan by the oak was set,
Her arms, her feet, were bare,
The hail-drops had not melted yet

Amid her raven hair. :

‘ And, Dame,’ she said, “‘ by all the ties
That child and mother know,

Aid one who never knew those joys,
Relieve an orphan’s woe”’

The lady said, “‘ An orphan’s state

Is hard and sad to bear;
Yet worse the widow’d mother's fate,
Who mourns both lord and heir.ne
ae

Fe,

Pine

eR. Be pees *

WAVERLEY NOVELS.

_ “ Twelve times the rolling year has sped,
Since, when from vengeance wild
Of fierce Strathallan’s Chief I fled,
Forth’s eddies whelm’d my child.’?

“‘ Twelve times the year its course has borne,”
The wandering maid replied,

“Since fishers on St. Bridget’s morn
Drew nets on Campsie side.

“St. Bridget sent no scaly spoil;—
An infant, well-nigh dead,

They saved, and rear’d in want and toil,
To beg from you her bread.” |

That orphan maid the lady kiss’d—
‘‘ My husband’s looks you bear;
St. Bridget and her morn be bless’d!

You are his widow’s heir.”

They’ve robed that maid so poor and pale,
In silk and sandals rare;

And pearls, for drops of frozen hail,
Are glistening in her hair.*

* The admirers of pure Celtic antiquity, notwithstanding the ele.
gance of the above translation, may be desirous to see a literal trans-
lation from the original Gaelic, which we therefore subjoin; and
have only to add, that the original is deposited with Mr. Jedediah
Cleishbotham.

LITERAL TRANSLATION.

The hail-blast had drifted away upon the ings of the gale of
autumn. The sun looked from between the clouds, pale as the
wounded here who rears his head feebly on the heath when the roar
of battle hath passed over him.

Finele, the Lady of the Castle, came forth to see her maidens pass
to the herds with their leglins.*

There sat an orphan maiden beneath the old oak-tree of appoint-

Ment. The withered leaves fell around her, and her heart was more
withered than they.

* Milk-pails.A LEGEND OF MONTROSE. 33

While the song proceeded Lord Menteith observed,
with some surprise, that it appeared to produce a much
deeper effect upon the mind of Sir Duncan Campbell,
thar he could possibly have anticipated from his age and
character. He well knew that the Highlanders of that
period possessed a much greater sensibility both for tale
and song than was found among their Lowland neigh-
bours; but even this, he thought, hardly accounted for
the embarrassment with which the old man withdrew his
eyes from the songstress, as if unwilling to suffer them to
~est on an object so interesting. Still less was it to be
expected, that features which expressed pride, stern com-
mon sense, and the austere habit of authority, should
have been so much agitated by so trivial a circumstance.
As the Chief’s brow became clouded, he drooped his
large shagey grey eyebrows until they almost concealed
his eyes, on the lids of which something like a tear might

The parent of the ice [poetically taken for the frost] still congealed
the hail-drops in her hair: they were like the specks of white ashes
on the twisted boughs of the blackened and half-consumed oak that
blazes in the hall.

And the maiden said, “ Give me comfort, lady, I am an orphan
child.” And the lady replied, “ How can I give that which I have
not? Iam the widow of a slain lord,—the mother of a perished child.
When I fled in my fear from the vengeance of my husband's foe, our
bark was overwhelmed in the tide, and my infant perished. This was
on St. Bridget’s morn, near the strong Lyns of Campsie. May ill luck
light upon the day.” And the maiden answered, “It was on St.
Bridget’s morn, and twelve harvests before this time, that the fisher-
men of Campsie drew in their nets neither grilse nor salmon, but an
‘nfant half dead, who hath since lived in misery, and must die, unless
she is now aided.’? And the lady answered, “ Blessed be St. Bridget
and her morn, for these are the dark eyes and the falcon look of my
slain lord; and thine shall be the inheritance of his widow.” And
she called for her waiting attendants, and she bade them clothe that
maiden in silk, and in sumite; and the pearls which they wove among
ber black tresses were whiter than the frozen hail-drops.94 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

be seen to glisten. He remained silent and fixed in the
same posture for a minute or two, after the last note had
ceased to vibrate. He then raised his head, and having
looked at Annot Lyle, as if purposing to speak to her, he
as suddenly changed that purpose, and was about to
address Allan, when the door opened, and the Lord of
the Castle made his appearance.ee

    
  
 
 
    
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

A LEGEND OF MONTROSE.

CHAPTER X.

Dark on their journey leur’d the gloomy day,

Wild were the hills, and doubtful grew the way;
More dark, more gloomy, and more doubtful, shew’d
The mansion which received them from the road.

THE TRAVELLERS, @ Romianes.

Aneus M‘Aunay was charged with a message which
he seemed to find some difficulty in communicating ; tor
it was not till after he had framed his speech several
different ways, and blundered them all, that he succeeded
in letting Sir Duncan Campbell know, that the cavalier
who was to accompany him was waiting in readiness, and
that all was prepared for his return to Inverary. Sir
Duncan Campbell rose up very indignantly ; the affront :
which this message implied immediately driving out of g
his recollection the sensibility which had been awakened
by the music. |

“T little expected this,” he said, looking indignantly at |
Angus M‘Aulay. “TI little thought that there was a .
Chief in the West Highlands, who, at the pleasure of a 2 i
Saxon, would have bid the Knight of Ardenvohr leave !
his 2astle, when the sun was declining from the meridian,
and ere the second cup had been filled. But farewell, !
sir, the food of a churl does not satisfy the appetite ; he
when I next revisit Darnlinvarach, it shall be with a
naked sword in one hand, and a firebrand in the other.”
“ And if you do come,” said Argus, “I pledge myselfPe

Sa eter, A iver
OST i cae

56 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

to meet you fairly, though you brought five aundred
Campbells at your back, and to afford you and them such
entertainment, that you shall not again complain of the
hospitality of Darnlinvarach.”

“Threatened men,” said Sir Duncan, “live long.
Your turn for gasconading, Laird of M‘Aulay, is too
well known, that men of honour should regard your
vaunts. ‘lo you, my lord, and to Allan, who have sup-
pled the place of my churlish host, I leave my thanks.
And to you, pretty mistress,” he said, addressing Annot
Lyle, “this little token, for having opened a fountain
which hath been dry for many a year.” So saying, he
left the apartment, and commanded his attendants to be
summoned. Angus M‘Aulay, equally embarrassed and
incensed at the charge of inhospitality, which was the
greatest possible affront to a Highlander, did not follow
Sir Duncan to the court-yard, where, mounting his pal-
frey, which was in readiness, followed by six mounted
attendants, and accompanied by the noble Captain Dal-
getty, who had also awaited him, holding Gustavus ready
for action, though he did not draw his girths and mount
till Sir Duncan appeared, the whole cavalcade left the
castle.

Lhe journey was long and toilsome, but without any
of the extreme privations which the Laird of M‘Aulay
had prophesied. In truth, Sir Duncan was very cautious
to avoid those nearer and more secret paths, by means of
which the county of Argyle was accessible from the west-
ward; for his relation and chief, the Marquis, was used
to boast, that he would not for a hundred thousand crowns
any mortal should know the passes by which an armed
force could penetrate into his country. |
Sir Duncan Campbell, therefore, rather shunned theA LEGEND OF MONTROSE. 97

Highlands, and falling into the Low-country, made for
the nearest seaport in the vicinity, where he had several
halt-decked galleys or birlings, as they were called, at his
command. In one of these they embarked, with Gustavus
in company, who was so seasoned to adventure, that land
and sea seemed as indifferent to him as to his master.

The wind being favourable, they pursued their way
rapidly with sails and oars; and early the next morning
it was announced to Captain Dalegetty, then in a small
cabin beneath the half-deck, that the galley was under
the walls of Sir Duncan Campbell’s castle.

Ardenvohr accordingly rose high above him, when he
came upon the deck of the galley. It was a gloomy
square tower, of considerable size and great height, situ-
ated upon a headland projecting into the salt-water lake,
or arm of the sea, which they had entered on the pre-
eeding evening. A wall, with flanking towers at each
angle, surrounded the castle to landward; but, towards
the lake, it was built so near the brink of the precipice
as only to leave room for a battery of seven guns, designed
to protect the fortress from any insult from that side,
although situated too high to be of any effectual use
according to the modern system of warfare.

The eastern sun, rising behind the old tower, flung its
shadow far on the lake, darkening the deck of the galley,
on which Captain Dalgetty now walked, waiting with
some impatience the signal to land. Sir Duncan Camp-
bell, as he was informed by his attendants, was already
within the walls of the castle; but no one encouraged
the Captain’s proposal of following him ashore, until, as
they stated, they should receive the direct permission or
order of the Knight of Ardenvohr.

In a short time afterwards the mandate arrived, while

VOE.. Kile aPea A ommak

98 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

a boat, with a piper in the bow, bearing the Knight of
Ardenvohr’s crest in silver upon his left arm, and playing
with all his might the family march, entitled “The Camp-
bells are coming,” approached to conduct the envoy of
Montrose to the castle of Ardenvohr. The distance
between the galley and the beach was so short as scarce
to require the assistance of the eight sturdy rowers, in
bonnets, short coats, and trews, whose efforts sent the
hoat to the little creek in which they usually landed,
before one could have conceived that it had left the side
of the birlmg. Two of the boatmen, in spite of Dalgetty’s
resistance, horsed the Captain on the back of a third
Highlander, and, wading through the surf with him,
landed him high and dry upon the beach beneath the
castle rock. In the face of this rock there appeared
something like the entrance of a low-browed. cavern,
towards which the assistants were preparing to hurry
our friend Dalgetty, when, shaking himself loose from
them. with some difficulty, he insisted upon seeing Gusta-
vus safely landed before he proceeded one step farther.
The Highlanders could not comprehend what he meant,
until one who had picked up a little English, or rather
Lowland Scotch, exclaimed, “ Houts! it’s a’ about her
horse, ta useless baste !” Farther remonstrance on the
part of Captain Dalgetty was interrupted by the appear-
ance of Sir Duncan Campbell himself, from the mouth of
the cavern which we have described, for the purpose of
inviting Captain Dalgetty to accept of the hospitality
of Ardenvohr, pledging his honour, at the same time, that
Gustavus should be treated as became the hero from
whom he derived his name, not to mention the important
person to whom he now belonged. Notwithstanding this
satisfactory guarantee, Captain Dalgetty would still haveA LEGEND OF MONTROSE. ag |

nesitated, such was his anxiety to witness the fate of his
companion Gustavus, nad not two Highlanders seized
bim by the arms, two more pushed him on behind, while
a fifth exclaimed, “ Hout awa wi’ the daft Sassenach !
Joes she no hear the Laird bidding her up to her ain
castle, wi her special voice, and isna that very mickle .
honour for the like o’ her?”

Thus impelled, Captain Dalgetty could only for a short
space keep a reverted eye towards the galley in which
he -had left the partner of his military toils. In a few
minutes afterwards he found himself involved in the
total darkness of a staircase, which, entering from the
low-browed cavern we have mentioned, winded upwards
through the entrails of the living rock.

“The cursed Highland salvages!” muttered the Cap-
tain, half aloud; “what is to become of me, if Gustavus,
the namesake of the invincible Lion of the Protestant
League, should be lamed among their untenty hands!”

“ Have no fear of that,’ said the voice of Sir Duncan,
who was nearer to him than he imagined; “my men are
accustomed to handle horses, both in embarking and
dressing them, and you will soon see Gustavus as safe as
when you last dismounted from his back.”

Captain Dalgetty knew the world too well to offer any
farther remonstrance, whatever uneasiness he might sup-
press within his own bosom. A step or two higher up
the stair shewed light and a door, and an iron-grated
wieket led him out upon a gallery cut in the open face of
the rock, extending a space of about six or eight yards,
until he reached a second door, where the path re-entered
the rock, and which was also defended by an iron port-
cullis. “An admirable traverse,” observed the Captain ;
‘and if commanded by a field-piece, or even a few musk-RE, Eom ge

100 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

ets, quite sufficient to ensure the place against a storming
party.”

Sir Duncan Campbell made no answer at the time;
but, the moment afterwards, when they had entered the
second cavern, he struck with the stick which he had in
his hand, first on the one side, and then on the other of
the wicket, and the sullen ringing sound which replied to
the blows, made Captain Dalgetty sensible that there was
a gun placed on each side, for the purpose of raking the
gallery through which they had passed, although the em-
brasures, through which they might be fired on occasion,
were masked on the outside with sods and loose stones.
Having ascended the second staircase, they found them-
selves again on an open platform and gallery, exposed to
a fire both of musketry and wall-guns, if, being came
with hostile intent, they had ventured farther. A thira
flight of steps, cut in the rock like the former, but not
caverned over, led them finally into the battery at the
foot of the tower. This last stair also was narrow and
steep, and, not to mention the fire which might be directed
on it from above,-one or two resolute men, with pikes and
jattle-axes, could have made the pass good against hun-
dreds; for the staircase would not admit two persons
abreast, and was not secured by any sort of balustrade,
or railing, from the sheer and abrupt precipice, on the
foot of which the tide now rolled with a voice of thunder.
So that, under the jealous precautions used to secure this
ancient Celtic fortress, a person of weak nerves, and a
brain liable to become dizzy, might have found it some-
thing difficult to have achieved the entrance to the castle,
even supposing no resistance had been offered.

Captain Dalgetty, too old a soldier to feel such tremors,
had no seconer arrived in the court-yard, than he protestedA LEGEND OF MONTROSE. 101

to God, the defences of Sir Duncan’s castle reminded
him more of the uotable fortress of Spandau, situated in
the march of Brandenburg, than of any place whilk it
had been his fortune to defend in the course of his travels.
Nevertheless, he criticised considerably the mode of
placing the guns on the battery we have noticed, observ-
ing, that, “ where cannon were perched, like to scarts, or
sea-vulls, on the top of a rock, he had ever observed that
they astonished more by their noise than they dismayed
by the skaith or damage which they occasioned.”

Sir Duncan, without replying, conducted the soldier
into the tower; the defences of which were a portcullis
and iron-clenched oaken door, the thickness of the wall
being the space between them. He had no sooner ar-
rived in a hall hung with tapestry, than the Captain pros-
ecuted his military criticism. It was, indeed, suspended
by the sight of an excellent breakfast, of which he par-
took with great avidity ; but no sooner had he secured
this meal, than he made the tour of the apartment, ex-
amining the ground around the castle very carefully
from each windew in the room. He then returned to his
chair, and throwing himself back into it at his length,
stretched out one manly leg, and tapping his jJack-boot
with the riding-rod which he carried in his hand, after
the manner of a half-bred man who affects ease in the
society of his betters, he delivered his unasked opinion
as follows:—*“ This house of yours, now, Sir Duncan, is
a very pretty defensible sort of a tenement, and yet It Is
hardly such as a cavaliero of honour would expect to
maintain his credit by holding out for many days. For,
Sir Duncan, if it pleases you to notice, your house ts
yvercrowed, and slighted, or commanded, as we military
men say, by yonder round hillock to the landward,ree, ee

Fu De pone

{02 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

whereon an enemy might stell such a battery of cannon
ns would make ye glad to beat a chamade within forty-
eight hours, unless it pleased the Lord extraordinarily to
show mercy.”

“There is no road,” replied Sir Duncan, somewhat
shortly, “by which cannon ¢an be brought against Arden-
vohr. The swamps and morasses around my house
would scarce carry your horse and yourself, excepting by
such paths as could be rendered impassable within a few
hours.”

“Sir Duncan,” said the Captain, “it is your pleasure
to suppose so; and yet we martial men say, that where
there is a sea-coast there is always a naked side, seeing
that cannon and munition, where they cannot be trans-
ported by land, may be right easily brought by sea
near to the place where they are to be put in action.
Neither is a castle, however secure in its situation, to be
accounted altogether invincible, or, as they say, impreg-
nable; fer I protest tye, Sir Duncan, that I have
known twenty-five men, by the mere surprise and audac-
ity of the attack, win, at a point of pike, as strong a hold
as this of Ardenvohr, and put to the sword, captivate, or
hold to+the ransom, the defenders, being ten times their
own number.”

Notwithstanding Sir Duncan Campbell’s knowledge of
the world, and his power of concealing his internal emo-
lion, he appeared piqued and hurt at these reflections,
which the Captain made with the most unconscious grav
ity, having merely selected the subject of conversation as
one upon which he thought himself capable of shining,
and, as they say, of laying down the law, without exactly
recollecting that the topic might not be equally agreeable
to his landlord.A LEGEND OF MONTROSE. 103

“To cut this matter short,” said Sir Duncan, with an
expression of voice and countenance somewhat agitated,
“it is unnecessary for you to tell me, Captain Daleetty,
that a castle may be stormed if it is not valorously de-
fended, or surprised if it is not heedfully watched. I trust
this poor house of mine will not be found in any of these
predicaments, should even Captain Dalgetty himself choose
to beleaguer it.”

“For all that, Sir Duncan,” answered the persevering
commander, “I would premonish you, as a friend, to trace
out a sconce upon that round hill, with a good graffe, or
ditch, whilk may be easily accomplished by compelling
the labour of the boors in the vicinity ; it being the cus-
tom of the valorous Gustavus Adolphus to fight as much
by the spade and shovel, as by sword, pike, and musket.
Also, I would advise you to fortify the said sconce, not
only by a foussie, or graffe, but also by certain stackets,

2

or palisades.”—(Here Sir Duncan, becoming impatient,
left the apartment, the Captain following him to the door,
and raising his voice as he retreated, until he was fairly
out of hearing.)—-“ The whilk stackets, or palisades,
should be artificially framed with re-entering angles and
loop-holes, or crenelles, for musketry, whereof it shall
arise that the formen The Highland brute! the old
Highland brute! They are as proud as peacocks, and as

obstinate as tups-—and here he has missed an opportunity

 

of making his house as pretty an irregular fortification as
¢ : :

an invading army ever broke their teeth upon.—But |
see,” he continued, looking down from the window upon

crite ONES a aoe ae ys
the hottom of the precipice, “ they have got Gustavus safe
ashore—Proper fellow! I would know that toss of his
pead among a whole squadron. I must go to see what

: 39
they are te make of him.me
me

4

an eal

me

OR RL tee

104 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

He had no sooner reached, however, the court. to the
seaward, and put himself in the act of descending the
staircase, than two Highland sentinels, advancing their
Lochaber axes, gave him to understand that this was a
service of danger.
said the soldier, “and I have got no
pass-word. I could not speak a syllable of their sal-

29

“ Diavolo !

jage gibberish, an it were to save me from the provost-
marshal.”

“T will be your surety, Captain Dalgetty,” said Sir
Duncan, who had again approached him without his ob-
serving from whence; “and we will go together, and see
how your favourite charger is accommodated.”

He conducted him accordingly down the staircase to
the beach, and from thence by a short turn behind a large
rock, which concealed the stables and other offices belong-
ing to the castle. Captain Dalgetty became sensible, at
the same time, that the side of the castle to the land was
rendered totally inaccessible by a ravine, partly natural
and partly scarped with great care and labour, so as to
be only passed by a drawbridge. Still, however, the
Captain insisted, notwithstanding the triumphant air with
which Sir Duncan pointed out his defences, that a sconce
should be erected on Drumsnab, the round eminence to
the east of the castle, in respect the house might be an-
ncyed from thence by burning bullets full of fire, shot
cut of cannon, according to the curious invention of
Stephen Bathian, King of Poland, whereby that prince
utterly ruined the great Muscovite city of Moscow.
This invention, Captain Dalgetty owned, he had not yet
witnessed, but observed, “that it would give him par-
ticular delectation to witness the same put to the proof
against Ardenvohr, or any other castle of similar strength ;”A LEGEND OF MONTROSE. 108

bbserving, that so curious an experiment could not but
nflord the greatest delight to all admirers of the military
art.

Sir Duncan Campbell diverted this conversation by
varrying the soldier into his stables and suffering him to
arrange Gustavus according to his own will and pleasure.
After this duty had been carefully performed, Captain
Dalgetty proposed to return to the castle, observing, it
was his intention to spend the time betwixt this and din-
ner, which, he presumed, would come upon the parade
about noon, in burnishing his armour, which, having sus-
tained some injury from the sea-air, might, he was afraid,
seem discreditable in the eyes of M‘Callum More. Yet
while they were returning to the castle, he failed not to
warn Sir Duncan Campbell against the great injury he
might sustain by any sudden onfall of an enemy, whereby
his horses, cattle, and granaries, might be cut off and
consumed, to his great prejudice; wherefore he again
strongly conjured him to construct a sconce upon the
round hill called Drumsnab, and offered his own friendly
services in lining out the same. ‘To this disinterested
advice Sir Duncan only replied by ushering his guest te
his apartment, and informing him that the tolling of the
rastle bell would make him aware when dinner was

ready._

8m sey

OPER eng oscie

LOG WAVERLEY NOVELS.

CHAPTER XI.

Is this thy castle. Baldwin? Melancholy
Displays her sable banner from the donjon,
Darkening the foam of the whole surge beneath.
Were La habitant, to see this gloom
Pollute the face of nature, and to hear
The ceaseless sound of waye and seabird’s scream,
I'd wish me in the hut that poorest peasant
Her framed, to give him temporary shelter.
Brown.

Tue gallant Ritt-master would willingly have employed
his leisure in studying the exterior of Sir Duncan’s castle,
and verifying his own military idéas upon the nature of its
detences. . dut a stout sentinel, who mounted guard with
a Lochaber-axe at the door of his apartment, gave him
tv understand, by very significant signs, that he was in a
sort of honourable captivity.

It is strange, thought the Ritt-master to himself, how
well these salvages understand the rules and practique
of war. Who would have presupposed their acquaint-
ance with the maxim of the great and godlike Gustavus
Adolphus, that a flag of truce should be half a messenger
half a spy ?—And, having finished burnishing his arms,
he sate down patiently to compute how much half a dollar
per diem would amount to at the end of a six-months’
‘ampaign ; and, when he had settled that problem, pro-
ceeded to the more abstruse calculations necessary for
drawing up a brigade of two thousand men on the prin:
ciple of extracting the Square root.A LEGEND OF MONTROSE 107

From his musings, he was roused by the joyful sound
of the dinner-bell, on which the Highlander, lately his
guard, became his gentleman-usher, and marshalled him
to the hall, where a table with four covers bore ample
proofs of Highland hospitality. Sir Duncan entered, con-
ducting his lady, a tall, faded, melancholy female, dressed
in deep mourning. They were followed by a Presby-
terian clergyman, in his Geneva cloak, and wearing a
black silk scull-eap, covering his short hair so closely, that
it could scarce be-seen at all, so that the unrestricted ears
had an undue predominance in the general aspect. This
ungraceful fashion was universal at the tine, and partly
led to the nick-names of roundheads, prick-eared curs,
and so forth, which the insolence of the cavaliers liberally
bestowed on their political enemies.

Sir Duncan presented his military guest to his lady,
who received his technical salutation with a stiff and
silent reverence, in which it could scarce be judged
whether pride or melancholy had the greater share. The
churchman, to whom he was next presented, eyed him
with a glance of mingled dislike and curiosity.

The Captain, well accustomed to worse looks from
more dangerous persons, cared very little either for those
of the lady or of the divine, but bent his whole soul upon
assaulting a huge piece of beef, which smoked at the
nether end of the table. But the onslaught, as he would
have termed it, was delayed, until the conclusion of a very
long grace, betwixt every section of which Dalgetty
handled his knife and fork, as he might have done his
musket or pike when going upon action, and as often
resigned them unwillingly when the prolix chaplain com-
menced another clause of his benediction. Sir Duncan
listened with decency, though he was supposed rather toWAVERLEY NOVELS.

have joired the Covenanters out of devotion to his chiet,
than real respect for the cause either of liberty or of
Presbytery. His lady alone attended to the blessing,
with symptoms of deep acquiescence.

The meal was performed almost in Carthusian silence;
for it was none of Captain Dalgetty’s habits to employ
his mouth in talking, while it could be more profitably
occupied. Sir Duncan was absolutely silent, and the lady
and churchman only occasionally exchanged a few words,
spoken low, and indistinctly.

But when the dishes were removed, and their place
supplied by liquors of various sorts, Captain Dalgetty no
longer had, himself, the same weighty reasons for silence,
and began to tire of that of the rest of the company. He
commenced a new attack upon his landlord, upon the
former ground.

“Touching that round monticle, or hill, or eminence,
termed Drumsnab, I would be proud to hold some dia-
logue with you, Sir Duncan, on the nature of the sconce
to be there constructed; and whether the angles thereof

should be acute or obtuse—anent whilk I have heard the

 

great Velt-Mareschal Bannier hold a learned argument
with General Tiefenbach during a still-stand of arms.”

“Captain Dalgetty,” answered Sir Duncan very drily,
“it is not our Highland usage to debate military points
with strangers. This castle is like to hold out against a
stronger enemy than any force which the unfortunate
gentlemen we left at Darnlinvarach are able to bring
against it.”

A deep sigh from the lady accompanied the conclusion
of her husband’s speech, which seemed to remind her of
some painful circumstance.

“ He who gave,” said the clergyman, addressing her inA LEGEND OF MONTROSE. 109

a solemn tone, “ hath taken away. May you, honourable
lady, be long enabled to say, Blessed be His name!”

To this exhortation, which seemed intended for her sole
behoof, the lady answered by an inclination of her head
more humble than Captain Dalgetty had yet observed her
make. Supposing he should now find her in a more con-
versable humour, he proceeded to accost her.

“It is indubitably very natural that your ladyship
Should be downcast at the mention of military prepara-
tions, whilk I have observed to spread perturbation among
women of all nations, and almost all conditions. Never-
theless, Penthesilea, in ancient times, and also Joan of
Are, and others, were of a different kidney. And, as I
have learned while I served the Spaniard, the Duke of
Alva in former times had the leaguer-lasses who followed
his camp marshalled into tertias, (whilk we call regi-
ments,) and officered and commanded by those of their
own feminine gender, and regulated by a commander-in-
chief, called in German Hureweibler, or, as we would say
vernacularly, Captain of the Queans. ‘True it is, they
were persons not to be named as parallel to your lady-
ship, being such gue questum corporibus faciebant, as
we said of Jean Drochiels at Mareschal College; the
same whom the French term curtisannes, and we in
Scottish 2

“The lady will spare you the trouble of farther ex-
position, Captain Dalgetty,’ said his host, somewhat
sternly ; to which the clergyman added, “that such dis-
.ourse better befitted a watch-tower guarded by profane
soldiery than the board of an honourable person, and the

 

presence of a lady of quality.”
“Craving your pardon, Dominie, or Doctor, aut quo-
cungue alio nomine gaudes, for I would have you to knowI have studied polite letters,” said the

WAVERLEY

  

unabashed envoy.

filling a great cup of wine, “I see no ground for your
reproof, seeing I did not speak of those turpes persone,
as if their occupation or character was a proper subject

of conversation for this lady’s presence, but simply par

accidens, as illustrating the matter in hand, namely, their

natural courage and audacity, much enhanced, doubtless,

by the desperate circumstances of their -condition.”
“Captain Dalgetty,” said Sir Duncan Campbell, “tc
break short this discourse, I must acquaint you, that |

have some business to despatch to-night, in order tc

enable me to ride with you to-morrow towards Inverary

and therefore

“'To ride with this person to-morrow

 

9>

!” exclaimed his

lady ; “such cannot be your purpose, Sir Duncan, unless

you have forgotten that the morrow is a sad anniversary,

and dedicated to as sad a solemnity.”

“T had not forgotten,” answered Sir Duncan; “how is

it possible I can ever forget? but the necessity of the

times requires I should send this officer onward to In-

verary, without loss of time.”

“Yet, surely, not that you should accompany him in

person ?” inquired the lady.

“Tt were better I did,” said Sir Duncan; “yet I can

write to the Marquis, and follow on the subsequent day.

Captain Dalgetty, I will despatch a letter for you, ex-

plaining to the Marquis of Argyle your character and

vommission, with which you will please to prepare te

travel to Inverary early to-morrow morning.”

“Sir Duncan Campbell,

5

said Dalgetty, “ I am doubt-

less at your discretionary disposal in this matter ; not the

less, I pray you to remember the blot which will fall

upen your own escutcheon, if you do in any way sufferA LEGEND OF MONTROSE. Eb}

v, being a commissionate flag of truce, to be circum-
vented in this matter, whether clam, vt, vel precario ,
Ido mt say by your assent to any wrong done to me,
but even through absence of any due care on your part
to prevent the same.”

“ You are under the safeguard of my honour, sir,” an-
swered Sir Duncan Campbell, “and that js more than a
sufficient security. , And now, continued he, rising, “J
must set the example of retiring.”

Dalgetty saw himself under the necessity of following

the hint, though the hour was early ; but, like a skilful
general, he availed himself of every instant of delay
which circumstances permitted. “Trusting to your
honourable parole,” said he, filling his cup, “I drink to
you, Sir Duncan, and to the continuance of your honour-
able house.” A sigh from Sir Duncan was the only
reply.—* Also, madam,” said the soldier, replenishing the
quaigh with all possible despatch, “I drink to your hon-
ourable health, and fulfilment of all your virtuous desires
—and, reverend sir,” (not forgetting to fit the action to
the words,) “T fill this cup to the drowning of all unkind-
ness betwixt you and Captain Dalgetty—I should say
Major—and, in respect the flagon contains but one cup
more, I drink to the health of all honourable cavaliers
and brave soldados—and, the flask being empty, I am
ready, Sir Duncan, to attend your functionary, or sentinel,
to my place of private repose.”

He received a formal permission to retire, and an as-
surance, that as the wine seemed to be to his taste, an-
other measure of the same vintage should attend him
presently, in order to soothe the hours of his solitude.

No sooner had the Captain reached the apartment
than this promise was fulfilled; and, in a short time112 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

   
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
   

afterwards, the added comforts of a pasty of red-deer
venison rendered him very tolerant both of confinement
nnd want of society. The same domestic, a sort of
chamberlain, who placed this good cheer in his apart:
ment, delivered to Dalgetty a packet, sealed and tied up
with a silken thread, according to the custom of the time,
addressed with many forms of respect to the High and
Mighty ‘Prirce, Archibald, Marquis of Argyle, Lord of
Lerne, and so forth. The chamberlain at the same time
apprized the Ritt-master, that he must take horse at an
early hour for Inverary, where the packet of Sir Duncan
would be at once his introduction and his passport. Not
forgetting that it was his object to collect information as
well as to act as an envoy, and desirous, for his own sake,
to ascertain Sir Duncan’s reasons for sending him onward
without his personal attendance, the Ritt-master inquired
at the domestic, with all the precaution that his experience
suggested, what were the reasons which detained Sir
Duncan at home on the succeeding day. The man, who
was from the Lowlands, replied, “ that it was the habit
of Sir Duncan and his lady to observe as a day of solemn
fast and humiliation the anniversary on which their castle
had been taken by surprise, and their children, to the
number of four, destroyed cruelly by a band of Highland
freebooters during Sir Duncan’s absence upon an expedi-
tion which the Marquis of Argyle had undertaken agaixst
the Macleans of the Isle of Mull.”

“Truly,” said the soldier, “your lord and lady have
some cause for fast and humiliation. Nevertheless, I
will venture to pronounce, that if he had taken the advice
of any experienced soldier, having skill in the practique
pf defending places of advantage, he would have built a
yeonce upon the small hill which is to the left of theA LEGEND OF MONTROSE. 113

draw-brigg. And this I can easily prove to you, mine
honest friend ; for, holding that pasty to be the castle—
What’s your name, friend ? ”

“ Lorimer, sir,” replied the man.

“Here is to your health, honest Lorimer.—I say,
Lorimer—holding that pasty to be the main body or
citadel of the place to be defended, and taking the mar-
row-bone for the sconce to be erected a

 

“J am sorry, sir,” said Lorimer, interrupting him,
“that I cannot stay to hear the rest of your demonstra-
tion ; but the bell will presently ring. As worthy Mr.
Graneangowl, the Marquis’s own chaplain, does family
worship, and only seven of our household out of sixty
persons understand the Scottish tongue, it would mis-
become any one of them to be absent, and greatly preju-

dice me in the opinion of my lady. ‘There are pipes and’

tobacco, sir, if you please to drink a whiff of smoke, and
if you want anything else, it shall be forthcoming two
hours hence, when prayers are over.” So saying, he left
the apartment.

No sooner was he gone, than the heavy toll of the
castle-bell summoned its inhabitants together; and was
answered by the shrill clamour of the females, mixed
with the deeper tones of the men, as talking EHarse at the
top of their throats, they hurried from different quarters
by a long but narrow gallery, which served as a com-
munication to many rooms, and, among others, to that in
which Captain Dalgetty was stationed. There they go
as if they were beating to the roll-call, thought the soldier
to himself; if they all attend the parade, I will look out,
take a mouthful of fresh air, and make mine own observa-
tions on the practicabilities of this place.

Accordingly, when all was quiet, he opened his

VOL XIi. 8

    
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   

_ ERca Teo
yy ae

 

ae AI
2 MR

114 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

chamber-door, and prepared to leave it, when he saw his
friend with the axe advancing towards him from the
distant end of the gallery, half whistling, half humming a
Gaelic tune. To have shewn any want of confidence,
would have been at once impolitic, and unbecoming his
military character; so the Captain, putting the best face
upon his situation he could, whistled a Swedish retreat,
in a tone still louder than the notes of his sentinel; and
retreating pace by pace with an air of indifference, as if
his only purpose had been to breathe a little fresh air, Le
shut the door in the face of his guard, when the fellow
had approached within a few paces of him.

It is very well, thought the Ritt-master to himself; he
annuls my parole by putting guards upon me, for, as we
used to say at Mareschal College, fides et fiducia sunt
relativa,* and if he does not trust my word, I do not see
how Iam bound to keep it, if any motive should occur
for my desiring to depart from it. Surely the moral
obligation of the parole is relaxed, in as far as physical
force is substituted instead thereof.

* The military men of the times agreed upon dependencies of
honour, as they called them, with all the metaphysical argumentation
of civilians, or school divines.

The English officer, to whom Sir James Turner was prisoner after
the rout of Uttoxeter, demanded his parole of honour not to go beyond
the walls of Hull without liberty. “ He brought me the message him-
self,—I told him I was ready to do so, provided he removed his guards
from me, for fides et jiducia sunt relativa; and, if he took my word for
my fidelity, he was obliged to trust it, otherwi ise, it was needlesg for
him to seek it, and in vain for me to give it; and therefore I be-
seeched him either to give trust to my word, which I would not
break, or his own guards, who.I supposed would not déceive him. Jn
this manner I dealt with him, because I knew him to be a scholar.”—
Turner’s Memoirs, p. 80. The English officer allowed the strer noth of
the reasoning; but that concise reasoner, Cromwell soon put an end

to the dilemma: “Sir James Turner must give his parole or be laid in
Yous.’*A LEGEND OF MONTROSE. 118

 

Thus comforting himself in the metaphysical immuni-
ties which he deduced from the vigilance of his sentinel,
Ritt-master Dalgetty retired to his: apartment, where
amid the theoretical calculations of tactics, and the occa-
sional more practical attacks on the flask and pasty, he
consumed the evening until it was time to go to repose,
We was summoned by Lorimer at break of day, who
gave him to understand, that, when he had broken his
fast, for which he produced ample materials, his guide
and horse were in attendance, for his journey to Inverary.
Atter complying with the hospitable hint of the chamber-
lain, the soldier proceeded to take horse. In passing
through the apartments, he observed that domestics were
busily employed in hanging the great hall with black
cloth, a ceremony which, he said, he had seen practised
when the immortal Gustavus Adolphus lay in state in
the Castle of Wolgast, and which, therefore, he opined,
was a testimonial of the strictest and deepest mourning.

When Dalgetty mounted his steed, he found himself
attended, or perhaps guarded, by five or six Campbells,
well armed, commanded by one, who, from the target at
his shoulder, and the short cock’s feather in his bonnet,
as well as from the state which he took upon himself,
claimed the rank of a Dunniewassel, or clansman of
superior rank; and indeed, from his dignity of deport-
ment, could not stand in a more distant degree of rela-
tionship to Sir Duncan, than that of tenth or twelfth
cousin at farthest. But it was impossible to extract
positive information on this or any other subject, inas-
much as neither this commander nor any of his party
spoke English. The Captain rode, and his military
attendants walked; but such was their activity and so
aumerous the impediments which the nature of the road116 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

presented to the equestrian mode of travelling, that far
from being retarded by the slowness of their pace, his
difficulty was rather in keeping up with his guides. He
observed that they occasionally watched him up with 4
sharp eye, as if they were jealous of some effort to
escape ; and once, as he lingered behind at crossing a
brook, one of the gillies began to blow the match of his
piece, giving him to understand that he would run some
risk in case of an attempt to part company. Dalgetty
did not augur much good from the close watch thus main-
tained upon his person; but there was no remedy, for an
attempt to escape from his attendants in an impervious
and unknown country, would have been little short of
insanity. ‘He therefore plodded patiently on through a
waste and savage wilderness, treading paths which were
only known to the shepherds and cattle-drivers, and
passing with much more of discomfort than satisfaction
many of those sublime combinations of mountainous
scenery which now draw visitors from every corner of
England, to feast their eyes upon Highland grandeur,
and mortify their palates upon Highland fare.

At length they arrived on the southern verge of that
noble lake upon which Inverary is situated; and a bugle,
which the Dunniewassel winded till rock and greenwood
rang, served as a signal to a well-manned galley, which,
starting from a creek where it lay concealed, received
the party on board, including Gustavus; which sagacious
quadruped, an experienced traveller both by water and
land, walked in and out of the boat with the discretion of
x Christian.

Embarked on the bosom of Loch Fine, Captain Dal-
getty might have admired one of the grandest scenes
which nature affords. He might have noticed the rivalA LEGEND OF MONTROSE. iq

rivers, Aray and Shiray, which pay tribute to the lake,
each issuing from its own dark and wooded retreat. He
might have marked, on the soft and gentle slope that
nccends from the shores, the noble old Gothic castle, with
its varied outline, embattled walls, towers, and outer and
inner courts, which, so far as the picturesque is concerned,
presented an aspect much more striking than the present
massive and uniform mansion. He might have admired
those dark woods which for many a mile surrounded this
strong and princely dwelling, and his eye might have
dwelt on the picturesque peak of Duniquoich, starting
abruptly from the lake, and raising its scathed brow into
the mists of middle sky, while a solitary watch-tower,
perched on its top like an eagle’s nest, gave dignity to the
scene by awakening a sense of possible danger. All
these, and every other accompaniment of this noble scene,
Captain Dalgetty might have marked, if he had been so
minded. But, to confess the truth, the gallant Captain,
who had eaten nothing since daybreak, was chiefly in-
terested by the smoke which ascended from the castle
chimneys, and the expectations which this seemed to
warrant of his encountering 4n abundant stock of provant,
as he was wont to call supplies of this nature.

The boat soon approached the rugged pier, which
abutted into the loch from the little town of Inverary,
then a rude assemblage of huts, with a very few stone
mansions interspersed, stretching upwards from the banks
of Loch Fine to the principal gate of the castle, before
which a scene presented itself that might easily have
quelled a less stout heart, and turned a more delicate
stomach, than those of Ritt-master Dugald Dalgetty,

titular of Drumthwacket.WAVERLEY NOVELS.

CHAPTER XII.

For close designs and crooked counsels fit,
Sagacious, bold, and turbulent of wit,
Restless, unfix’d in principle and place,
In power unpleased, impatient.in disgrace.

ABSALOM AND ACHITOPHEL.

Tux village of Inverary, now a neat country town,
then partock of the rudeness of the seventeenth century,
in the miserable appearance of the houses, and the irreg-
ularity of the unpaved street. Buta stronger and more
terrible characteristic of -the period appeared in the
market-place, which was a space of irregular width, half-
way betwixt the harbour, or pier, and the frowning
castle-gate, which terminated with its gloomy archway,
portcullis, and flankers, the upper end of the vista. Mid-
way this space was erected a rude gibbet, on which hung
five dead bodies, two of which from their dress seemed to
have been Lowlanders, and the other three corpses were
mufied in their Highland plaids. Two or three women
sate under the gallows, who seemed to be mourning, and
singing the coronach of the deceased in a low voice. But
the spectacle was apparently of too ordinary occurrence
to have much interest for the inhabitants at large, who,
While they thronged to look at the military figure, the
horse of an unusual size, and the burnished panoply of

Captain Dalgetty, seemed to bestow no attention what

  

 
 
 
 
 
  
  
 
    
 
  
  
    
  
   
    
   
  
  
  

i >A LEGEND OF MONTROSE. 119

pver on the piteous spectacle which their own market-place
afforded.

The envoy of Montrose was not quite so indifferent ;
and, hearing a word or two of English escape from a
Highlander of decent appearance, he immediately halted
Gustavus and addressed him. “The Provost-Marshal
has been busy here, my friend. May I crave of you
what these delinquents have been justified for ? ”

He looked towards the gibbet as he spoke; and the
Gael, comprehending his meaning rather by his action
than his words, immediately replied, “Three gentlemen
caterans,—God sain them,” (crossing himself )—“ twa
Sassenach bits o’ bodies, that wadna do something that
M‘Callum More bade them ;” and turning from Dalgetty
with an air of indifference, away he walked, staying no
farther question.

Dalgetty shrugged his shoulders and proceeded, for Sir
Duncan Campbell’s tenth or twelfth cousin had already
shewn some signs of impatience.

At the gate of the castle another terrible spectacle of
feudal power awaited him. Within a stockade or palisado,
which seemed lately to have been added to the defences
of the gate, and which was protected by two pieces of
light artillery, was a small enclosure, where stood a huge
block, on which lay an axe. Both were smeared with
recent blood, and a quantity of sawdust strewed around,
partly retamed~and partly obliterated the marks of a
very late execution.

As Dalgetty looked on this new object of terror, his
principal guide suddenly twitched *him by the skirt of his
jerkin, and having thus attracted his attention, winked
and pointed with his finger to a pole fixed on the stockade,
vhich supported a human head, being that, doubtless, of

    
   
 
  
  
 
 
 
   
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

ms120 WAVERLEY NOVEIS.

the late sufferer. - There was a leer on the Highlander’s
face, as he pointed to this ghastly spectacle, which seemed
to his fellow-traveller ominous of nothing good.

Dalgetty dismounted from his horse at the gateway,
and Gustavus was taken from him without his being
permitted to attend him to the stable, aceording to his
custom.

This gave the soldier a pang which the apparatus of
said he to

9

death had not conveyed.—* Poor Gustavus !
himself, “if any thing but good happens to me, I had
better have left him at. Darnlinvarach, than brought him
here among these Highland salvages, who scarce know
the head of a horse from his tail. But duty must part a

man from his nearest and dearest—

‘‘ When the cannons are roaring, lads, and the colours are flying,
The lads that seek honour must never fear dying;
Then stout cavaliers, let us toil our brave trade in,
And fight for the Gospel and the bold King of Sweden.”
Thus silencing his apprehensions with the but-end of a
military ballad, he followed his guide into a sort of guard-
room filled with armed Highlanders. It was intimated
to him that he must remain here until his arrival was
communicated to the Marquis. To make this communi-
cation the more intelligible, the doughty Captain gave to
the Dunniewassel Sir Duncan Campbell’s packet, desiring,
as well as he could, by signs, that it should be delivered
into the Marquis’s own hands. His guide nodded, and
withdrew.

The Captain was left about half an hour in this place,
to endure with indifference, or return with scorn, the
inquisitive, and, at the same time, the inimical glances of
the armed Gael, to whom his exterior and equipage wereA LEGEND OF MONTROS®E.

   

121

as much subject of curiosity, as his person and country

seemed matter of dislike. All thishe bore with militar y
nonchalance, until, at the expiration of the above period,
a person dressed in black velvet, and we: wing a gold
chain like a modern magistrate of Edinburgh, but whe
was, im fact, steward of the household to the Marquis of
Argyle, entered the apartment, and invited, with solemn
gravity, the Captain to follow him to his master’s pres-

ence.

The suite of apartments through which he passed were
filled with attendants or visitors of various descriptions,

disposed, perhaps, with some ostentation, in order to
impress the envoy of Montrese with an idea of the e supe-

rior power and magnificence belonging to the rival house
otf Argyle. One’ anteroom was filled with lacqueys,
arrayed in brown and yellow, the colours of the family,

who, ranged in double file, gazed in silence upon Captain

Dalgetty as he passed betwixt their ranks

Ancther was

occupied by Highland gentlemen and chiefs of small

branches, who were amusing themselves with chess, back-

gammon, and other games, which they scarce intermitted

to gaze with curiosity upon the stranger.

A third was

filled with Lowland gentlemen and officers, who seemed

also in attendance: and, lastly, the presence-chamber of

the Marquis himself shewed him attended by a levee

which marked his high importance.

This apartment, the folding doors of which were opened

for the reception of Captain Dalgetty, was a long gallery,

decorated with tapestry and family portraits, and having

r vaulted ceiling of open woodwork, the extreme projec-

ons of the beams being richly carved and gilded. The
gallury was lighted by long lanceolated Gothic casements,

divided by heavy shafts, and filled with painted glass,ins te..

oor ams ce

ere rete reer

Lo WAVERLEY NOVELS.

iw

where the sunbeams glimmered dimly through boars’
heads, and galleys, and batons, and swords, armorial bear-
ings of the powerful house of Argyle, and emblems of
the high hereditary offices of Justiciary of Scotland, and
Master of the Royal Household, which they long enjoyed.
At the upper end of this magnificent gallery stood the
Marquis himself, the centre of a splendid circle of High.
lxnd and Lowland gentlemen, all richly dressed, among
vhom were two or three of the clergy, called in, perhaps,
to be witnesses of his lordship’s zeal for the Covenant.

The Marquis himself was dressed in the fashion of the
period, which Vandyke has so often painted; but his
habit was sober and uniform in colour, and rather rich
than gay. His dark complexion, furrowed forehead, and
downcast look, gave him the appearance of one frequently
engaged in the consideration of important affairs, and
who has acquired, by long habit, an air of gravity and
mystery, which he cannot shake off even where there is
nothing to be concealed. The cast with his eyes, which
had procured him in the Highlands the nick-name of
Gillespie Grumach, (or the grim,) was less ‘perceptible
when he looked downward, which perhaps was one cause
of his having adopted that habit. In person, he was tall
and thin, but not without that dignity of deportment and
manners, which became his high rank. Something there
ras cold in his address, and sinister in his look, although
he spoke and behaved with the usual grace of a man of
such quality. He was adored by his own clan, whose
advancement he had greatly studied, although he was» in
proportion disliked by the Highlanders of other septs,
some of whom he had already stripped of their posses-
tions, while others conceived themselves in danger from
his future schemes, and al]! dreaded the aeight to which
€ was clevated.

    

aNA LEGEND OF MONTROSE. 123

We have already noticed, that in displaying himself
amidst his councillors, his officers of the household, and
his train of vassals, allies, and dependents, the Marquis
of Argyle probably wished to make an impression on the
nervous system-of Captain Dugald Dalgetty. But that
doughty person had fought his way, in one department
or another, through the greater part of the Thirty Years’
War in Germany,’a period when a brave and successful
soldier was a companion for princes. The King of
Sweden, and, after his example, even the haughty Princes
of the Empire, had found themselves fain, frequently, to
compound with their dignity, and silence, when they
could not satisfy, the pecuniary claims of their soldiers,
by admitting them to unusual privileges and familiarity.
Captain Dugald Dalgetty had it to boast, that he had
sate with princes at feasts made for monarchs, and there-
fore was not a person to be brow-beat even by the dignity
which surrounded M‘Callum More. Indeed he was
naturally by no means the most modest man in the world,
but, on the contrary, had so good an opinion of himself,
that into whatever company he chanced to be thrown, he
was always proportionally elevated in his own. conceit ;
co that he felt as much at ease in the most exalted society
as among his own ordinary companions. In this high
opinion of his own rank, he was greatly fortified by his
‘deas of the military profession, which, in his phrase,
made a valiant cavalier a camarado to an emperor.

When introduced, therefore, into the Marquis’s pres-
ence-chamber, he advanced to the upper end with an air
of more confidence than grace,.and would have gone close
up to Argyle’s person before speaking, had not the latter
) as a signal to him to stop short. Captain

waved his hand,
Dalgetty did so accordingly, and having made his militarycts ame

aie. ™

ier:

a

PSN Neo, £

nO Reece

[24 WAVERLEY NOVELS.
:

congee with easy confidence, he thus accosted the Mar-
quis: “Give you good-morrow, my lord—or rather I
should say, good-even; Beso a usted los manos, as the
Spaniard says.”

“Who are you, sir, and what is your business?”
demanded the Marquis, in a tone which was intended 49
interrupt the offensive familiarity of the soldier.

“That is a fair interrogative, my lord,” answered
Dalgetty, “which I shall forthwith answer as becomes
a cavalier, and that peremptorie, as we used to say at
Mareschal College.”

“See who or what he is, Neal,” said the Marquis
sternly, to a gentleman who stood near him.

“TI will save the honourable gentleman the labour of
investigation,” continued the Captain. “TI am Dugald
Dalgetty, of Drumthwacket, that should be, late Ritt-
master in various services, and now Major of I know not
what or whose regiment of Irishes ; and I am eome with
a flag of truce from a high and powerful lord, James Earl
of Montrose, and other noble persons now in arms for his
Majesty. And so, God save King Charles !”

“Do you know where you are, and the danger of
dallying with us, sir,” again demanded the Marquis,
“that you reply to me as if I were a child or a fool?
The Earl of Montrose is with the English malignants ;
and I suspect you are one of those Irish runagates, who
are come into this country to burn and slay, as they did
ander Sir Phelim O’ Neale.”

“ My lord,” replied. Captain Dalgetty, “I am no rene-
gade, though a Major of Ivishes, for which I might refer
your lordship to the invincible Gustavus Adolphus, the
Lion of the North, to Bannier, to Oxensteirn, to the
warlike Duke of Saxe-Weimar, Tilly, Wallenstein, Pic-A LEGEND OF MONTROSE. 425

colemini, and other great captains, both dead and living;
and touching the noble Earl of Montrose, I pray your
lordship to peruse these my full powers for treating
with you in the name of that right honourable com-
mander.” :

The Marquis looked slightingly at the signed and
sealed paper which Captain Dalgetty handed to him, and
throwing it with contempt upon a table, asked those
around him what he deserved who came as the avowed
envoy and ‘agent of malignant traitors, in arms against
the state ?

“A high gallows and a short shrift,” was the ready
answer of one of the bystanders.

“J will crave of that honourable cavalier who hath
last spoken,” said Dalgetty, “to be less hasty in forming
his conclusions, and also of your lordship to be cautelous
in adopting the same, in respect such threats are to be
held out only to base bisognos, and not to men of spirit
and action, who are bound to peril themselves as freely
in services of this nature, as upon sieges, battles, or
“onslaughts of any sort. And albeit I have not with me
a trumpet, or a white flag, in respect our army is not yet
equipped with its full appointments, yet the honourable
cavaliers and your lordship must concede unto me, that
the sanctity of an envoy who cometh on matter of truce
or parley, consisteth not in the fanfare of a trumpet,
whilk is but a sound, or in the flap of a white flag, whilk
‘s but an old rag in itself, but in the confidence reposed

, and the party sent, in the honour
arried, and their
ag

by the party sending
of those to whom the message is to be ¢
fall reliance that they will respect the jus gentvum,
weel as the law of arms, in the person of the commis

sionate.”[26 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

“You are not come hither to lecture us upon the Jaw
of arms, sir,” said the Marquis, “which neither does nor
tan apply to rebels and insurgents; but to suffer the
penalty of your insolence and folly for bringing a traitor.
ous message to the Lord Justice-General of Scotland,
whose duty calls upon him to punish such an offence with
death.”

“Gentlemen,” said the Captain, who began much to
dislike the turn which his mission seemed about to take,
“TI pray you to remember, that the Earl of Montrose
will hold you and your possessions liable for whatever
injury my person, or my horse, shall sustain by these
unseemly proceedings, and that he wil] be justified in
executing retributive vengeance on your persons and
possessions.”

This menace was received with a scornful laugh, while
one of the Campbells replied, “ Itis

a far cry to Lochow £2
a proverbial expression of t]

1e tribe, meaning that their
ancient hereditary domains lay beyond the reach of an
invading enemy. “ But, gentlemen,” farther urged the
unfortunate Captain, who was unwilling to be condemned
without at least the benefit of a full hearing, “ ¢ lthough it
is not for me to say how far it may be to Locl

10W, in
respect Iam a stranger to tl

1€s€ parts, yet, what is more
to the purpose, I trust you will admit that I hay

e the
guarantee of an

honourable gentleman of your owp
name, Sir Duncan Campbell

of Ardenvohr, for my safety
on this mission; and J

pray you to observe, that in breake
ing the truce towards me, you will highly prejudicate his
horour and fair fame.”

This seemed to be new information to many of the
gentlemen, for they spoke aside with each other, and the

Marquis’s tace, notwithstanding his power of suppressingA LEGEND OF MONTROSE. P27

all external signs of his passions, shewed impatience and
vexation.

“Does Sir Duncan of Ardenvohr pledge his honour
for this person’s safety, my lord?” said one of the com-
pany, addressing the Marquis.

“JY do not believe it,” answered the Marquis; “but I
have not yet had time to read his letter.”

“We will pray your lordship to do so,” said another
of the Campbells; “our name must not suffer discredit
through the means of such a fellow as this.”

“A dead fly,” said a clergyman, “maketh the ointment
of the apothecary to stink.”

“ Reverend sir,” said Captain Dalgetty, “in respect of
the use to be derived, I forgive you the unsavouriness of
your comparison ; and also remit to the gentleman in the
red bonnet, the disparaging epithet of fellow which he
has discourteously applied to me, who am no way to be
distinguished by the same, unless in so far as I have been
called fellow-soldier by the great Gustavus Adolphus,
the Lion of the North, and other choice commanders,
both in Germany and the Low Countries. But, touching
Sir Duncan Campbell’s gtfarantee of my safety, I will
gage my life upon his making my words good thereanent,
when he comes hither to-morrow.”

“Tf Sir Duncan be soon expected, my lord,” said one
of the intercessors, “it would be a pity to anticipate mat-
ters with this poor man.”

“ Besides that,” said another, “ your lordship—I speak
with reverence—should, at least, consult the Knight of
Ardenvohr’s letter, and learn the terms on which this
Major Dalgetty, as he calls himself, has been sent hither
by him.”

They closed around the Marquis, and conversed to128 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

gether in a low tone, both in Gaelic and English. ‘I'he
patriarchal power of the Chiefs was very great, and that
of the Marquis of Argyle, armed with all his grants of
hereditary jurisdiction, was particularly absolute. But
there interferes some check of one kind or other even in
the most despotic government. That which mitigated
the power of the Celtic Chiefs was the necessity which
they lay under of conciliating the kinsmen, who, under
them, led out the lower orders to battle, and whe
formed a sort of council of the tribe in time of
peace. The Marquis on this occasion thought himself
under the necessity of attending to the remonstrances
of this senate, or more properly Couroultai, of the
name of Campbell, and, slipping out of the circle, gave
orders for the prisoner to be removed to a place of
security.

“ Prisoner !”

exclaimed Dalgetty, exerting himself
with such force as well-nigh to shake off two Highlanders,
who for some minutes past had waited the signal to seize
him, and kept for that purpose close at his-back. Indeed
the soldier had so nearly attained his liberty, that the
Marquis of Argyle changed colour, and stepped back two
paces, laying, however, his hand on his sword, while
several of his clan, with ready devotion, threw themselves
betwixt him and the apprehended vengeance of the pris-
oner. But the Highland guards were too strong to be
shaken off, and the unlucky Captain, after having had his
offensive weapons taken from him, was dragged off and
conducted through several gloomy. passages to a small
side-door grated with iron, within which was another of
wood. ‘These were opened by a grim old Highlander,
with a long white beard, and displayed a very steep and
nariow flight of steps leading downward. The Captain’sA LEGEND OF MONTROSE. 129

guards pushed him down two or three steps, then, unloos-
ing his arms, left him to grope his way to the bottom as
he could; a task which became difficult and even danger-
pus, when the two doors being successively locked left
the prisoner. in total darkness.ea, NS 8

130 WAVERLEY NOVELA&

CHAPTER XIII.

Whatever stranger visits here,
We pity his sad case,

Unless to worship he draw near
The King of kings — his Grace.

Kuans’s Epigram ona Visit to Inverary.

Tue Captain, finding himself deprived of light in the
manner we have described, and placed in a very uncer-
tain situation, proceeded to descend the narrow and
broken stair with all the caution in his power, hoping
that he might find at the bottom some place to repose
himself. But with all his care he could not finally avoid
making a false step, which brought him down the four or
five last steps too hastily to preserve his equilibrium. At
the bottom he stumbled over a bundle of something soft,
which stirred and uttered a groan, so deranging the Cap-
tain’s descent, that he floundered forward, and finally fell
upon his hands and knees on the floor of a damp and
stone-paved dungeon.

When Dalgetty had recovered, his first demand was to
know over whom he had stumbled.

“ He was a man a month since,” answered a hollow
and broken voice.

“And what is he now, then,” said Dalgetty, “ that ke
thinks it fitting to lie upon the lowest step of the stairs,
and clew’d up like a hurchin, that honourable cavaliers,A LEGEND OF MONTROSE. 131

who chance to be in trouble, may break their noses over
bra? 7?

“What is he now?” replied the same voice ; “he is a
wretched trunk, from which the boughs have one by one
been lopped away, and which cares little how soon it is
torn up and hewed into billets for the furnace.”

“Friend,” said Dalgetty, “I am sorry for you; but
patrenza, as the Spaniard says. If you had but been as
quiet as a log, as you call yourself, I should have saved
some excoriations on my hands and knees.”

“ You are a soldier,”
you complain on account of a fall for which a boy would

replied his fellow-prisoner ; “do

not bemoan himself? ”

“* A soldier?” said the Captain; “and how do you
know, in this cursed dark cavern, that I am a soldier ?”

“T heard your armour clash as you fell,” replied the
prisoner, “and now I see it glimmer. When you have
remained as long as I in this darkness, your eyes will dis-
tinguish the smallest eft that crawls on the floor.”

“J had rather the devil picked them out!” said Dal-
getty ; “if this be the case, I shall wish for a short turn
of the rope, a soldier’s prayer, and a leap from a ladder.
But what sort of provant have you got here—what food,
I mean, brother in affliction ?”

“ Bread and water once a-day,” replied the voice.

«“ Prithee, friend, let me taste your loaf,” said Dalgetty ;
“TJ hope we shall play good comrades while we dwell to-
gether in this abominable pit.” :

“ The loaf and jar of water,” answered the other pris-
oner, “stand in the corner two steps to your right hand.
Take them, and welcome. With earthly food I have

well-nigh done.”
Dalgetty did not wait for a second invitation, but, grop¥

 

age

SO ee ltt
or

2 ten laa

hn

foo WAVERLEY NOVELS.

ing out the provisions, began to munch at the stale blaek
oaten loaf with as much heartiness as we have seen him
play his part at better viands.

“This bread,” he said, muttering, (with his mouth -full
at the same time,) “is not very savoury ; never theless, ig
is not much worsé than that which we ate at the famous
leaguer at Werben, where the valorous Gustavus foiled
all the efforts of the celebrated Tilly, that terrible old
hero, who had driven two kings out of the field

 

namely,
Ferdinand of Bohemia and Christian of Denmark. And
anent this water, which is none of the most sweet, I
drink in the same to your speedy deliverance, comrade,
not forgetting mine own, and devoutly wishing it were
Rhenish wine, or humming Lubeck beer, at the least,
were it but in honour of the pledge.”

While Dalgetty ran on in this way, his teeth kept time
with his tongue, and he speedily finished the provisions
which the benevolence or indifference of his companion
in misfortune had abandoned to his voracity. When
this task was accomplished, he wrapped himself in his
cloak, and seating himself ina corner of the dungeon in

which he could obtain a support on each side, (for he had
always been an admirer of elbow- chairs, he remarked,
even from his youth upward,) he began to question his
ete captive.

Mine honest friend,” said he, “ you and J, being com-
rades at bed and board, should be better acquainted. I
am Dugald Dalgetty of Drumthw: acket, and so forth,
Major ina regiment of loyal Irishes, vs E (nvoy Extra-
ordinary of a High and Mighty Lord, James Earl of
Montrose.—Pray, what may your name be?” |

“Tt will avail you little to know,” replied his more tac
iturn companion.A LEGEND OF MONTROSE.

“Let me judge of that matter,” answered the soldier.

“ Well, thep—Ranald MacKagh is my name—that ig,
Ranald Son of the Mist.”

“Son of the Mist!” ejaculated Dalgetty. “Son of
utier Garkness, say I. But, Ranald, since that is your

 

name, how came you in possession of the provost’s
court of guard? what the devil brought you here, that is
to say?”

“My misfortunes and my crimes,” answered Ranald.
“ Know ye the Knight of Ardenvohr ?”

?

“ T do know that honorable person,” replied Dalgetty.

“ But know ye where he now is?” replied Ranald.

“ Fasting this day at Ardenvohr,” answered the Envoy,
“that he may feast to-morrow at Inverary ; in which last
purpose if he chance to fail, my lease of human service
will be something precarious.”

“Then let him know, one claims his intercession, who
is his worst foe and his best friend,” answered Ranald.

“ Truly, I shall desire to carry a less questionable mes-
sage,” answered Dalgetty. “ Sir Duncan is not a person
to play at reading riddles with.”

“ Craven Saxon,” said the prisoner, “tell him I am the
raven that, fifteen years since, stooped on his tower of
strength and the pledges he had left there—I am the
hunter that found out the wolfs den on the rock, and de-
stroyed his offspring—I am the leader of the band which
surprised Ardenvohr yesterday was fifteen years, and gave
his four children to the sword.”

“ Truly, my honest friend,” said Dalgetty, “ if that is
your best recommendation to Sir Duncan’s favour, I would
pretermit my pleading thereupon, in respect J have ob-
wrved that even the animal creation are incensed against
-hose who intromit with their offspring forcibly, muchWAVERLEY NOVELS.

 

more any rational and Christian creatures, who have had
violence done upon their small family. But I pray you
in courtesy to tell me, whether you assailed the -castle
from the hillock. called Drumsnab, whilk I uphold to be
the true point of attack, unless it were to be protected by
® sconce.”

“We ascended the cliff by ladders ot withies or Sap:
lings,” said the prisoner, “ drawn up by an accemplice
and clansman, who had served six months in the castle to
enjoy that one night of unlimited vengeance. The ow)
whooped around us as we hung betwixt heaven and earth :
the tide roared against the foot of the rock, and dashed
asunder our skiff, yet no man’s heart failed him. In the
morning there was blood and ashes, where there had been
peace and joy at the sunset.” ;

“Tt was a pretty camisade, I doubt not, Ranald Mae-
Eagh, a very sufficient onslaught, and not unworthily dis-
charged. Nevertheless, I would have pressed the house
from that little hillock called Drumsnab. But yours is
a pretty arregular Scythian fashion of warfare, Ranald,
unuch resembling that of Turks, Tartars, and other Asiatie
people.—But the reason, my friend, the cause of this war
—the teterrima causa, as I may say? Deliver me that,
Ranald.”

“We had been pushed at by the M‘Aulays, and other
western tribes,” said Ranald, “ till our possessions became
unsafe for us.”

“Ah ha!” said Dalgetty; “I have faint remembrance
of having heard of that matter. Did you not put bread
and cheese into a man’s mouth, when he had never a
stomach whereunto to transmit the same ?”

“You have heard, then.” said Ranald “the tale of our
"evenge on the haughty Forester ? ”eae

A LEGEND OF MONTROSE. 135

“1 bethink me that I have,” said Dalgetty, “ and that
pt an old date. It was a merry jest that, of cramming
the bread into the dead man’s mouth, but somewhat too
wild and salvage for civilized acceptation, besides wasting
the good victuals. I have seen when at a siege or a
leaguer, Ranald, a living soldier would have been the

a +d > 2, ‘ 7 o € I?PIA : VI ¥ ;
better, Ranald, for that crust of bread, whilk you threw
away on a dead pow.”

“We were attacked by Sir Duncan,” continued Mac-
Eagh, “and my brother was slain—his head was wither-
ing on the battlements which we scaled
and it is a vow I have never broken.”

 

I vowed revenge,

“ It may be so,” said Dalgetty ; “and every thorough-
bred soldier will confess that revenge is a sweet morsel;
but in what manner this story will interest Sir Duncan
in your justification, unless it should move him to inter-
cede with the Marquis to change the manner thereof
from hanging, or simple suspension, to breaking your
limbs on the roue or wheel, with the coulter of a plough,
or otherwise putting you to death by torture, surpasses
my comprehension. Were I you, Ranald, I would be
for miskenning Sir Duncan, keeping my own secret, and
departing quietly by suffocation, like your ancestors before
you.”

“Yet hearken, stranger,” said the Highlander. “ Sir
Duncan of Ardenvohr had four children. Three died
undér our dirks, but the fourth survives ; and more would
he give to dandle on his knee the fourth child which re-
mains, than to rack these old bones, which care little for
One word, if I list
tc speak it, could turn his day of humiliation and fasting

the utmost indulgence of his wrath.

nio a day of thankfulness and rejoicing, and breaking of
bread = Oh, I know it by my own heart! Dearer to me

Se

      
  
 
  
  
 
 
  
 
 
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 

-.aR, — m_

-

136 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

is the child Kenneth, who chaseth the butterfly on the
banks of the Aven, than ten sons who are mouldering in
earth, or are preyed on by the fowls of the air.”

“TI presume, Ranald,” continued Dalgetty, “that the
three pretty fellows whom I saw yonder in the market-
place, strung up by the head like rizzered haddocks,
claimed some interest in you.”

There was a brief pause ere the Highlander replied, im
a tone of strong emotion,—* they were my sons, stranger
—they were my sons !—blood of my blood—bone of my
bone !—fleet of foot—unerring in aim—unvanquished by
foemen till the sons of Diarmid overcame them by num-
bers! Why do I wish to survive them? The old trunk
will less feel the rending up of its roots, than it has felt
the lopping off of its graceful boughs. But Kenneth must
be trained to revenge—the young eagle must learn from
the old how to stoop on his foes. J will purchase for his
sake my life and my freedom, by discovering my secret
to the Knight of Ardenvohr.”

“You may attain your end more easily,” said a third
voice, mingling in the conference, “by intrusting it to
roe.

All Highlanders are superstitious. ‘The Enemy of
Mankind is among us!” said Ranald MacKagh, springing
to his feet. His chains clattered as he rose, while he
drew himself as far as they permitted from the quarter
whence the voice appeared to proceed. His fear in some
degree communicated itself to Captain Dalgetty, who be-
sibberish, all the

gan to repeat, in a sort of polyglot g :
exorcisms he had ever heard of, without being able to
remember more than a word or two of each.

“In nomine Domini, as we said at Mareschal College,

~—santissima madre di Dios, as the Spaniard has it,—allsA LEGEND OF MONTROSE. Loz

guten gerster loben den Herrn, saith the blessed Psalmist,
in Dr. Luther’s translation ?

 

“ A truce with your exorcisms,” said the voice they had
heard before; “though I come strangely among you, 1
am mortal like yourselves, and my assistance may avail
you in your present strait, if you are not too proud to be
counselled.”

While the stranger thus spoke, he withdrew the shade
of a dark lantern, by whose feeble light Dalgetty could
only discern that the speaker who had thus mysteriously
united himself to their company, and mixed in their con-
versation, was a tall man, dressed in a livery cloak of the
Marquis. His first glance was to his feet, but he saw
neither the sloven foot which Scottish legends assign to
the foul fiend, nor the horse’s hoof by which he is distin-:
guished in Germany. His first inquiry was, how the
stranger had come among them.

“For,” said he, “the creak of these rusty bars would
have been heard had the door been made patent; and if
you passed through the keyhole, truly, sir, put what face
you will on it, you are not fit to be enrolled in a regiment
of living men.”

““T reserve my secret,” answered the stranger, “ until
you shall merit the discovery by communicating to me
some of yours. It may be that I shall be moved to let
you out where I myself came in.”

“Tt cannot be through the keyhole, then, said Captain
Dalgetty, “for my corselet would stick in the passage,
were it possible that my head-piece could get through.
As for secrets, I have none of my own, and but few ap-
pertaining to others. But impart to us what secrets you
desire to know; or, as Professor Snufflegreek used to say
at the Mareschal Coliege, Aberdeen, speak that I may

knew thee.”{38 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

“Tt is not with you I have first to do,” replied the
stranger, turning his light full on the wild and wasted
features, and the limbs of the Highlander, Ranald Mac-
Eagh, who, close drawn up against the walls of the dun-
geon, seemed yet uncertain whether his guest was a living
being.

“T have brought you something, my friend,” said the
stranger, in a more soothing tone, “to mend your fare;
if you are to die to-morrow, it is no reason wherefore you
should not live to-night.”

“ None at all—no reason in the creation,” replied the
ready Captain Dalgetty, who forthwith began to unpack
the contents of a small basket which the stranger had
brought under his cloak, while the Highlander, éither in
suspicion or disdain, paid no attention to the good cheer.

“ Here’s to thee, my friend,” said the Captain, who,
having already despatched a huge piece of roasted kid,
was now taking a pull at the wine-flask. _“ What is thy
name, my good friend ?”

“ Murdoch Campbell, sir,’ answered the servant, “a
lackey of the Marquis of Argyle, and occasionally acting
as under-warden.”

“Then here is to thee once more, Murdoch,” said Dal-
getty, “drinking to you by your proper name for the
better luck sake. This wine I take to be Calcavella.
Well, honest Murdoch, I take it on me to say, thou de-
servest to be upper-warden, since thou shewest thyself
twenty times better acquainted with the way of victualling
honest gentlemen that are under misfortune, than thy
principal. Bread and water ? out upon him! It was
enough, Murdoch, to destroy the credit of the Marquis’s
dungeon. But I see you would converse with my friend,
Ranald MacEagh here. Never mind my presence; [JJA LEGEND OF MONTROSE. 13$

get me into this corner with the basket, and I will warrant
my jaws make noise enough to prevent my ears from
hearing you.” 3

Notwithstanding this promise, however, the veteran
listened with all the attention he could to gather their
discourse, or, as he described it himself, “laid his ears
back in his neck, like Gustavus, when he heard the key
turn in the girnell-kist.” He could, therefore, owing to
the narrowness of the dungeon, easily overhear the
following dialogue.

“ Are you aware, Son of the Mist,” said the Campbell,
“that you will never leave this place, excepting for the
gibbet ?”

“Those who are dearest to me,” answered MacKagh,
“have trode that path before me.”

“Then you would do nothing,” asked the visiter, “ to
shun following them ?”

The prisoner writhed himself in his chains before re-
turning an answer.

“JT would do much,” at length he said; “not for my
own life, but for the sake of the pledge in the glen of
Strathaven.”

“ And what would you do to turn away the bitterness
of the hour?” again demanded Murdoch ; “JT care nat
for what cause ye mean to shun it.”

“TJ would do what a man might do, and still call him-
self a man.”

“Do you call yourself a man,” said the interrogator,
“ who have done the deeds of a wolf?”

“JT do, answered the outlaw; “J am aman like my
forefathers—while wrapt in the mantle of peace, we were
sambs—it was rent from us, and ye now call us wolves.
Give us the huts ye have burned, our children whom ye

    
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

ip140 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

have murdered, our widows whom ye have starved—col.
lect from the gibbet and the pole the mangled carcasses,
and whitened skulls of our kinsmen—bid them live and
bless us, and we will be your vassals and brothers—till
then, let death and blood, and mutual wrong, draw a dark
veil of division between us.”

“You will then do nothing for your liberty,” said the
Campbell.

“ Any thing—but call myself the friend of your tribe,”
answered MacKagh.

“We scorn the friendship of banditti and caterans,”
retorted Murdoch, “and would not stoop to accept it—
What I demand to know from you, in exchange for your
liberty, is, where the daughter and heiress of the Knight
of Ardenvohr is now to be found ?”

“That you may wed her to some beggarly kinsman
of your great master,” said Ranald, “after the fashion
of the children of Diarmid! Does not the valley of
Glenorquhy, to this very hour, ery shame on the violence
offered to a helpless infant whom her kinsmen were con-
veying to the court of the Sovereign? Were not her
escort compelled to hide her beneath a cauldron, round
which they fought till not one remained to tell the tale ?
and was not the girl brought to this fatal castle, and after-
wards wedded to the brother of M‘Callum More, and all
for the sake of her broad lands ?” *

“And if the tale be true,” said Murdoch, “she had a
preferment beyond what the King of Scots would have
conferred on her. But this is far from the purpose. The

* Such a story is told of the heiress of the clan of Calder, who was
made prisoner in the manner described, and afterwards wedded to Sir

Duncan Campbell, from which union the Campbells of Cawdex have
‘heir descent.A LEGEND OF MONTROSE. 141

daughter of Sir Duncan of Ardenvohr is of our own
blood, not a stranger; and who has so good a right to
know her fate as M‘Callum More, the chief of her
clan ?”

~ It ison his part, then, that you demand it?” said the
outlaw. ‘The domestic of the Marquis assented.

«And you will practise no evil against the maiden ?-—
I have done her wrong enough already.”

“ No evil, upon the word of a Christian man,” replied
Murdoch.

« And my guerdon is to be life and liberty?” said the
Child of the Mist.

“ Such is our paction,”

replied the Campbell.

“ Then know, that the child whom I saved out of com-
passion at the spoiling of her father’s tower of strength,
was bred as an adopted daughter of our tribe, until we
were worsted at the pass of Ballenduthil, by the fiend in-
carnate and mortal enemy of our tribe, Allan M‘Aulay
of the Bloody hand, and by the horsemen of Lennox,
under the heir of Menteith.”

“ ell she into the power of Allan of the Bloody hand,”
said Murdoch, “and she a reputed daughter of thy tribe ?
Then her blood has gilded the dirk, and thou hast said
nothing to rescue thine own forfeited life.”

“Tf my life rests on hers,” answered the outlaw, “ it is
secure, for she still survives ; but it has a more insecure
reliance—the frail promise of a son of Diarmid.”

“That promise shall not fail you,” said the Campbell,
“if you can assure me that she survives, and where she is
to be found.”

“Tn the castle of Darnlinvarrach,” said Ranald Mac-
Each, “ under the name of Annot Lyle I have often
aeard of her from my kinsmen, who have again ap-1a? WAVERLEY NOVELS.

proached their native woods, and it is not long since
mine old eyes beheld her.”

“You!” said Murdoch, in astonishment, “you, a chief
among the Children of the Mist, and ventured so near
your mortal foe ? ”

“Son of Diarmid, I did more,” replied the outlaw; “I
was in the hall of the ‘castle, disguised as a harper from
the wild shores of Skianach. My purpose was to have
plunged my dirk in the body of the M‘Aulay with the
Bloody hand, before whom our race trembles, and to have
taken thereafter what fate God should send me. But I
saw Annot Lyle, even when my hand was on the hilt of
my dagger. She touched her clairshach * to a song of
the Children of the Mist, which she had learned when
her dwellmg was amongst us. The woods. in which we
had dwelt pleasantly rustled their green leaves in the
song, and our streams were there with the sound of all
their waters. My hand forsook the dagger; the foun-
‘ains of mine eyes were opened, and the hour of revenge
passed away.—<And now, Son of Diarmid, have I not paid
the ransom of my head ?”

“Ay,” replied Murdoch, “if your tale be true; but
what proof can you assign for it?”

“Bear witness, heaven and earth,” exclaimed the
outlaw, “he already looks how he may step over his
word!”

“ Not so,” replied Murdoch; “every promise shall be
kept to you when I am assured you have told me the
truth.—But I must speak a few words with your com-
panion in captivity.”

“ Fair and false—ever fair and false,” muttered the

* Harp.A LEGEND OF MONTROSK. 142

prisoner, as he threw himself once more on the floor of
his dungeon.

Meanwhile, Captain Dalgetty, who had attended to
every word of this dialogue, was making his own remarks
on tt in private. “ What the henker can this sly fellow
have to say tome? I have no child, either of my own,
so far as 1 know, or of any other person, to tell hima
tale about. But let him come on—he will have some
manceuvring ere he turn the flank of the old soldier.”

Accordingly, as if he had stood pike in hand to defend
a breach, he waited with caution, but without fear, the
commencement of the attack.

“You are a citizen of the world, Captain Dalgetty,”
said Murdoch Campbell, “ and cannot be ignorant of our
old Scottish proverb, gif-gaf,* which goes through all
nations and all services.”

“T'ben I should know something of it,” said Dalgetty ;
“for, except the Turks, there are few powers in Europe
whom I have not served; and I have sometimes thought
of taking a turn either with Bethlem Gabor, or with the
Janizaries.”

«A man of your experience and unprejudiced ideas
then, will understand me at once,” said Murdoch, “ when
T say, I mean that your freedom shall depend on your
true and upright answer to a few trifling questions
respecting the gentlemen you have left; their state of
preparation ; the number of their men; and nature of
their appointments; and as much as you chance to know
about their plan of operations.”

“Just to satisfy your, curiosity,” said Dalgetty, “ and

without any farther purpose?”

* In cid English, ka me ke thee, i. e., mutually serving each other,144 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

“ None in the world,” replied Murdoch; “what in.
terest should a poor devil like me take in their opera-
tions ?”

“Make your interrogations, then,” said the Captain,
“and I will answer them peremptorie.”

« How many Irish may be on their march to join James
Graham the delinquent ?”

“ Probably ten thousand,” said Captain Dalgetty.

“Ten thousand!” repled Murdoch, angrily ; “ we know

 

that scarce two thousand landed at Ardnamurchan.”

demanded Murdoch.”

fp | i “Then you know more about them than I do,” an-
‘ae ie swered Captain Dalgetty, with great composure. ‘“J]
| | never saw them mustered yet, or even under arms.”

i j | i “ And how many men of the clans may be expected ?’
te |

) | “ As many as they can make,” replied the Captain.

HE “You are answering from the purpose, sir,” said
\ i) Murdoch; “speak plainly, will there be five thousand
i | men?” 3

“There and thereabouts,” answered Dalgetty.

“You are playing with your life, sir, if. you trifle
with me,” replied the catechist; “one whistle of mine,
and in less than ten minutes your head hangs on the

ie drawbridge.”

 

“But to speak candidly, Mr. Murdoch,” replied the
Captain, “do you think it is a reasonable thing to ask me
after the secrets of our army, and I engaged to serve for
ths whole campaign? If I taught you how to defeat
Montrose, what becomes of my pay, arrears, and chance
of booty?”

“J tell you,” said Campbell, “ that.if you be stavborn,
your campaign shall begin and end in a march to the
block at the castle-gate, which stands ready for suchA LEGEND OF MONTROSE. 144

land-laufers ; but if you answer my questions faithfully,
I will receive you into my—into the service of M‘Callum
More.”

“Does the service afford good pay?” said Captain
Dalgetty.

“He will double yours, if you will return to Montrose
and act under his direction.”

“J wish I had seen you, sir, before taking on with
him,” said Dalzetty, appearing to meditate.

“Qn the contrary, I can afford you more advantageous
terms now,” said the Campbell; “ always supposing you
are faithful.”

“Faithful, that. is, to you, and a traitor to Montrose,”
answered the Captain.

“ Faithful to the cause of religion and good order,”
answered Murdoch, “ which sanctifies any deception you
may employ to serve it.”

« And the Marquis of Argyle—should I incline to
enter his service, is hea kind master!” demanded
Dalgetty.

‘Never man kinder,” quoth Campbell.

“ And_bountiful to his officers?” pursued the Captain.

“The most open hand in Scotland,” replied Mur-
doch.

“True and faithful to his engagements?” continued
Dalgetty.

“ As honourable a nobleman as breathes,” said the
zlansman.

“J never heard so much good of him before,” said
Dalgetty ; “ you must know the Marquis well,—or rather
you must be the Marquis himself !__TLord of Argyle,” he
added, throwing himself suddenly on the disguised nohle-
man, “I arrest you in the name of King Charles, as a

VOL. Xil. 10|

 

146 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

traitor. If you venture to call for assistance, I will
wrench round your neck.”

The attack which Dalgetty made upon Argyle’s person
was so sudden and unexpected, that he easily prostrated
him on the floor of the dungeon, and held him down with
one hand, while his right, grasping the Marquis’s threat,
was ready to strangle him on the slightest attempt to call
for assistance.

“Lord of Argyle,” he said, “it is now my turn to lay
down the terms of capitulation. If you list to shew me
the private way by which you entered the dungeon, you
shall escape, on condition of being my locwm tenens, as
we said at the Mareschal College, until your warder
visits his prisoners. But if not, I will first strangle you
—I learned the art from a Polonian heyduck, who had
been a slave in the Ottoman seraglio
a mode of retreat.”

 

and then seek out

“ Villain! you would not murder me for my kindness,”

Murmured Argyle.

“ Not for your kindness, my lord,” replied Dalgetty ;
“but first, to teach your lordship the jus gentiwm towards
cavaliers who come to you under safe-conduct; and
secondly, to warn you of the danger of proposing dis-
honourable terms to any worthy soldado, in order to
tempt him to become false to a standard during the term
of his service.”

“Spare my life,” said Argyle, “and I will do as you
require.”

Dalgetty maintained his gripe upon the Marquis’s
throat, compressing it a little while he asked questiéas,
and relaxing it so far as to give him the power of answer-
mg them.

“Where is the secret door into the dungeon?” he
demanded.

Sa a IA LEGEND OF MONTROSE. 147

*« Hold up the lantern to the corner on your right
hand, you will discern the iron which covers the spring,”
replied the Marquis.

“ So far so good.— Where does the passage lead to?” |

“To my private apartment behind the tapestry,’
answered the prostrate nobleman.

“ From thence, how shall I reach the gateway ?”

“ Through the grand gallery, the anteroom, the lackey’s

39

 

waiting hall, the grand guardroom
“ All crowded with soldiers, factionaries, and attend
ants ?——that will never do for me, my lord ;—have you no
secret passage to the gate, as you have to your dungeons ?
I have seen such in Germany.”
“There is a passage through the chapel,” said the

 

Marquis, “ opening from my apartment.”

« And what is the pass-word at the gate?”

“The sword of Levi,” replied the Marquis; “but if
you will receive my pledge of honour, I will go with you,
escort you through every guard, and set you at full liberty
with a passport.”

“JT might trust you, my lord, were your throat not d
already black with the grasp of my fingers;—as it 1S, |
heso los manos a usted, as the Spaniard says. Yet you

 

may grant me a passport ;—are there writing materials
in your apartment ?”
“ Surely ; and blank passports ready to be signed. I | |

will attend you there,” said the Marquis, “ instantly.”
“Jt were too much honour for the like of me,” said
Dalgetty; “ your lordship shall remain under charge of | |
mine honest friend Ranald MacEagh; therefore, prithee,
let me drag you within reach of his chain.—Honest
Ranald, you see how matters stand with us. I shall find
the means, I doubt not, of setting you at freedom. Mean148 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

time, do as you see me do; clap your hand thus on the
weasand of this high and mighty prince, under his ruff,
and if he offer to struggle or cry out, fail not, my worthy
tanald, to squeeze doughtily ; and if it be ad deliquium,
Ranald, that is, till he swoon, there is no great matter,
seeing he designed your gullet and mine to still harder

usage.”
“Tf he offer at speech or struggle,” said Ranald, “he
dies by my hand.” ;

 

“That is right, Ranald—very spirited :—A thorough-
going friend that understands a hint is worth a million!”

Thus resigning the charge of the Marquis to his new
confederate, Dalgetty pressed the spring, by which the
secret door flew open, though, so well were its hinges
polished and oiled, that it made not the slightest noise in
revolving. The opposite side of the door was secured
by very strong bolts and bars, beside which hung one or
two keys, designed apparently to undo fetterlocks. A
narrow staircase, ascending up through the thickness of
the castle-wall, landed, as the Marquis had truly informed
him, behind the tapestry of his-private apartment. Such
communications were frequent in old feudal castles, as
they gave the lord of the fortress, like a second Dionysius.
the means of hearing the conversation of his prisoners,
or, if he pleased, of visiting them in disguise, an experi-
ment which had terminated so unpleasantly on the present
occasion for Gillespie Grumach. Having examined pre-
viously whether there was any one in the apartment, and
linding the coast clear, the Captain entered, and hastily
possessing himself of a blank passport, several of which
lay on the table, and of writing materials, securing, at the
same time, the Marquis’s dagger, and a silk cord from the

hangings, he again descended into the cavern, where,A LEGEND OF MONTROSE. 149

listening a moment at the door, he could hear the half:
stifled voice of the Marquis making great proffers to
MacKagh, on condition he would suffer him to give an
alarm. “Not for a forest of deer—not for a thousand
head of cattle,’ answered the freebooter; “not for all
the lands that ever called a son of Diarmid master, will
I break the troth I have plighted to him of the iron gar-
ment.”

“ He of the iron garment,” said Dalgetty, entering, “is
beunden-unto you, MacEagh, and this noble lord shall be
bounden also; but first he must fill up this passport with
the names of Major Dugald Dalgetty and his guide, or
he is like to have a passport to another world.”

The Marquis subscribed and wrote, by the light of the
dark lantern, as the soldier prescribed to him.

“ And now, Ranald,” said Dalgetty, “ strip thy upper
garment—thy plaid I mean, Ranald, and in it will I
muffle the M‘Callum More, and make of him for the
time, a Child of the Mist—Nay, I must bring it over
your head, my lord, so as to secure us against your mis-
timed clamour—So, now he is sufficiently muffled hold
down your hands, or, by Heaven, I will stab you to the

 

heart with your own dagger !—nay, you shall be bound
with nothing less than silk, as your quality deserves.—So,
now he is secure till some one comes to relieve him. If
he ordered us a late dinner Ranald, he is like to be the
sufferer; at what hour, my good Ranald, did the jailer
usually appear ?”

“ Never till the sun was beneath the western wave,”
said MacKagh.

« Then, my friend, we shall have three hours goo,”
said the cautious Captain “ In the meantime, let 4s

labour for your liberation.”150 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

To examine Ranald’s chain was the next occupation.
It was undone by means of one of the keys which hung
behind the private door, probably deposited there that the
Marquis might, if he pleased, dismiss a prisoner, or remove
him elsewhere, without the necessity of summoning the
warden. The outlaw stretched his benumbed arms, and
hounded from the floor of the dungeon, in all the ecstasy
of recovered freedom.

“Take the livery coat of that noble prisoner,’ said
Captain Dalgetty; “put it on, and follow close at my
heels.”

The outlaw obeyed. They ascended the private stair,
having first secured the door behind them, and thus safely
reached the apartment of the Marquis.*

* The precarious state of the feudal nobles introduced a great deal
of espionage into their castles. Sir Robert Carey mentions his having
put on the cloak of one of his own wardens to obtain a confession from
the mouth of Geordie Bourne, his prisoner, whom he caused presently
to be hanged in return for the frankness of his communication. The
fine old Border castle of Naworth contains a private stair from the
apartment of Lord William Howard, by which he could visit the
dungeon, as is alleged in the preceding chapter to have been p~actised
by the Marguis of Argyle.A LEGEND OF MONTROSE.

CHAPTER XIV.

This was the entry, then, these stairs—but whither after?
Yet he that’s sure to perish on the land

May quit the nicety of card and compass,

And trust the open sea without a pilot.

TRAGEDY OF BRENNOVALT.

“Loox out for the private way through the chapel,
Ranald,” said the Captain, “while I give a hasty regard
to these matters.”

Thus speaking, he seized with one hand a bundle of
Argyle’s most pfivate papers, and with the other a purse
of gold, both of which lay in a drawer of a rich cabinet,
which stood invitingly open. Neither did he neglect to
possess himself of a sword and pistols, with powder-flask
and balls, which hung in the apartment. “ Intelligence
and booty,” said the veteran, as he pouched the spoils,
“ each honourable cavalier should look to, the one on his
general’s behalf, and the other on his own. This sword
is an Andrew Ferrara, and the pistols better than mine
own. .But a fair exchange is no robbery. Soldados are
not to be endangered, and endangered gratuitously, my
Lord of Argyle.—But soft, soft, Ranald ; wise Man of
the Mist, whither art thou bound ?”

It was indeed full time to stop MacKagh’s proceedings 5
‘or, not finding the private passage readily, and impatient,
tt would seem, of farther delay, he had caught down a
sword and target, and was about to enter the great gal-|

 

WAVERLEY NOVELS.

lery. with the purpose, doubtless, of fighting his way
through all opposition.

“Mold, while you live,” whispered Dalgetty, laying
hold on him. “ We must lie perdue, if possible. So bar
we this door, that it may be thought M‘Callum More
and now let me make a reconnoissance

 

would be private
for the private passage.”

By looking behind the tapestry in various places, the
Captain at length discovered a private door, and behind
that a winding passage, terminated by another door, which
doubtless entered the-chapel. But what was his disagree-
able surprise to hear, on the other side of this second door
the sonorous voice of a divine in the act of preaching.

“This made the villain,” he said, “ recommend this te
us as a private passage. I am strongly tempted to return
and cut his throat.”

He then opened very gently the doorwhich led into a
latticed gallery used by the Marquis himself, the curtains
of which were drawn, perhaps with the purpose of having
it supposed that he was engaged in attendance upon
divine worship, when, in fact, he was absent upon his
secular affairs. There was no other person in the seat;
for the family of the Marquis,—such was the high state
maintained ia those days,—sate during service in another
gallery, placed somewhat lower than that of the great
man himself. This being the case, Captain Dalgetty
ventured to ensconce himself in the gallery, of which he
earefully secured the door.

Never (although the expression be a bold one) was a
sermon listened to with more impatience, and less edifi-
ation, on the part of one, at least, of the audience. The
Captain heard svxteenthly—seventeenthly—eighteenthly—
and to conclude, with a sort of feeling like distractedA LEGEND OF MONTROSE. 133

lespair. But no man can lecture (for the service was
ealled a lecture) forever; and the discourse was at length
closed, the clergyman not fi uiling to make a profound bow
fowards. the latticed gallery, little sus specting whom he
honoured by that reverence. To jud lve from the haste
with which they dispersed, the domestics of the Marquis
were scarce more pleased with their late ae than
the anxious Captain Dalgetty; indeed, nany of them

7

being Highlandmen, had the excuse of not aidan ee
a single word which the: clergyman spoke, although they
gave their attendance on his doctrine by the special order
of M‘Callum More, and would have done so had the
preacher been a Turkish Imaum.

But although the congregation dispersed thus rapidly,
the divine remained behind in the chapel, and, walking
up and down its Gothic precincts, seemed either to be
meditating on what he had just been delivering, or pre-
paring a fresh discourse for the next opportunity. Bold
as he was, Dalgetty hesitated what he ought to do. Time,
however, pressed, and every moment increased the
chance of their escape being discovered by the jailor
visiting the dungeon perhaps before his wonted time, and
discovermg the exchange which had been made there.
At length, whispering Ranald, who watched all his mo-
tions, to follow him and preserve his countenance, Captain
Jalgetty; with a very composed air, descended a flight of |
steps which led from the gallery into the body of the sie
chapel. A less experienced adventurer baa have en»
deavoured to pass the worthy clergyman rapidly, in hopes
to escape unnoticed. But the Captain, who foresaw the
manifest danger of failing in such an aoa walked
gravely to meet the divine upon his walk in the midst of
the chancel, and, pulling off his cap, was about to pass[a4 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

him after a formal reverence. But what was his surprise

\ crete to view in the preacher the very same person with
F whom he had dined in the castle of Ardenvohr! Yet
' he speedily recovered his composure 5 and, ere the cler-
gyman could speak, was the first to address him. “1

ho could not,” he said, “leave this mansion without be-

queathing to you, my very reverend sir, my humble
thanks for the homily with which you have this evening
| favoured us.”
“J did not observe, sir,” said the clergyman, “ that
i | you were in the chapel.”
a “Tt pleased the honourable Marquis,” said Dalgetty,

modestly, “to grace me with a seat in his own gallery.”

 

: Hh The divine bowed low at this intimation, knowing that
| i such an honour was only vouchsafed to persons of very
: high rank. “It has been my fate, sir,” said the Captain,
ei “in the sort of wandering life which I have led, to have
heard different preachers of different religions—as for
example, Lutheran, Evangelical, Reformed, Calvinistical,

' and so forth, but never have I listened to such a homily
as yours.”
i “ Call it a lecture, worthy sir,” said the divine, “such
i) is the phrase of our church.”
7 “Lecture or homily,” said Dalgetty, “it was, as the

High German say, ganz fortre flich ; and I could not
leave this place without testifying unto you what inward
emotions I have undergone during your edifying pre-
lection; and how I am touched to the quick, that I
should yesterday during the refection, have seemed to
‘nfringe ‘on the respect due to such a person as yourself.”

“Alas! my worthy sir,” said the clergyman, “we
meet in this world as in the Valley of the Shadow of
Death, not knowing against whom we may chance teA LEGEND OF MONTROSE. 153

encounter. In truth, it is no matter of marvel, if we
sometimes jostle those, to whom, if known, we would
yield all respect. Surely, sir, 1 would rather have taken
you for a profane malignant than for such a devout per-
son as you prceve, who reverences the great Master even
in the meanest of his servants.”

“Tt is always my custom to do so, learned sir,” an-
swered Dalgetty ; “for in the service of the immortal
Gustavus—but I detain you from your neditations,’—
his desire to speak of the King of Sweden being for once
overpowered by the necessity of his circumstances.

“ By no means, my worthy sir,” said the cle rgyman.
“What was, I pray you, the order of that great
Prince, whose memory is so dear to every Protestant
bosom ?”

“ Sir, the drums beat to prayers morning and evening,
as regularly as for parade ; and if a soldier passed with-
out saluting the chaplain, he had an hour’s ride on the
wooden mare for his pains. Sir, I wish you a very good
evening—I am obliged to depart the castle under M‘Cal-
lum More’s passport.”

“ Stay one instant, sir,” said the preacher ; “is there
nothing I can do to testify my respect for the pupil of
the great Gustavus, and so admirable a judge of preach-
ing?”

“ Nothing, sir,” said the Captain, “ but to shew me the
nearest way to the gate—and if you would have the
kindness,” he added, with great effrontery, “to let a
servant bring my horse with him, the dark grey g oelding

—call him Gustavus, and he will prick up his ears—
for I know not where the castle stables are situated,

and my guide,” he added looking at Ranald, “ Speaks na

Enelish.”
a,156 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

“T hasten to accommodate. you,” said the clergyman
* your way lies through that cloistered passage.”

“ Now, Heaven’s blessing upon your vanity !” said the
Captain to himself. “I was afraid I would have had te
march off without Gustavus.”

In fact, so effectually did the chaplain exert himself in
behalf of so excellent a judge of composition that while
Dalgetty was parleying with the sentinels at the draw-
bridge, shewing his passport, and giving the watchword,
a servant brought him his horse, ready saddled for the
journcy. In another piace, the Captain’s sudden ap-
pearance at large after having been publicly sent to
prison, might have excited suspicion and inquiry ; but
the officers and domestics of the Marquis were accustomed
to the mysterious policy of their master, and never sup-
posed aught else than that he had been liberated and
intrusted with some private commission by their master.
In this belief,-and having received the parole, they gave
him free passage.

Dalgetty rode slowly through the town of Inverary,
the outlaw attending upon him like a-foot-page at his
horse’s shoulder. As they passed the gibbet, the old
man looked on the bodies and wrung his hands. The
look and. gesture were momentary, but expressive of in-
describable anguish. Instantly recovering himself, Ran
ald, in passing, whispered somewhat to one of the feinales,
who, like Rizpah the daughter of Aiah, seemed engaged
in watching and mourning the victims of feudal injustice
und cruelty. The woman started at his voice, but imme-
dhately collected herself, and returned for answer a slight
inclination of the head.

Dalgetty continued his way out of the town, uncertain
whether he should try to seize or hire a boat and crossA LEUVEND OF MONTROSE. 157

the lake, or plunge into the woods, and there conceal
himself from pursuit. In the former event, he was liable
to be instantly pursued by the galleys of the Marquis,
which lay ready for sailing, their long yard-arms pointing
to the wind, and what hope could he have in an ordinary
Highland fishing-boat to escape from them? If he made
the latter choice, his chance either of supporting or con-
cealing himself in those waste and unknown wildernesses,
was in the highest degree precarious. The town lay
now behind him, yet what hand to turn to for safety he
was unable to determine, and began to be sensible, that
in escaping from the dungeon at Inverary, desperate as
the matter seemed, he had only accomplished the easiest
part of a difficult task. If retaken, his fate was now
certain ; for the personal injury he had offered to a man,
so powerful and so vindictive, could be atoned for only by
‘nstant death. While he pondered these distressing re-
flections, and looked around with a countenance which
plainly expressed indecision, Ranald MacKHagh suddenly
asked him, “ which way he intended to journey ?”

“ And that, bonest comrade,” answered Dalgetty, “is
precisely the question which I cannot answer you. ‘Truly,
I begin to hold the opinion, Ranald, that we had better
have stuck by the brown loaf and water pitcher until Sir
Duncan arrived, who, for his own honour must have made
some fight for me.”

“ Saxon,” answered MacEKagh, “ do not regret having
exchanged the foul breath of yonder dungeon for the free
air of heaven. Above all, repent not that you have served
a Son of the Mist. Put yourself under my guidance, and
| will warrant your safety with my head.”

“ Can you guide me safe through these mountains, and
back to the army of Montrose ?” said Dalgetty.158 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

“I can,” answered MacKagh; “there lives nov a
man to whom the mountain passes, the caverns, the
glens, the thickets, and the corries are known, as they
are to the Children of the -Mist. While others craw]
on the level ground, by the sides of lakes and streams,
ours are the steep hollows of the inaccessible mountains,
the birth-place of the desert springs. Not all the blood-
hounds of Argyle can trace the fastnesses through which
I can guide you.”

“Say’st thou so, honest Ranald?” replied Dalgetty ;
hen have on with thee; for of a surety I shall never
save the ship by my own pilotage.”

The outlaw accordingly led the way into the wood, by
which the castle is surrounded for several miles, walking
with so much despatch as kept Gustavus at a round trot,
and taking such a number of cross-cuts and turns, that
Captain Dalgetty speedily lost all idea where he might
be, and all knowledge of the points of ‘the compass. At
length, the path, which had gradually become more diffi-
cult, altogether ended among thickets and underwood.
The roaring of a torrent was heard in the neighbcurhood,
the ground became in some places broken, in others boggy,
and everywhere unfit for riding.

“ What the foul fiend,”.said Dalgetty, “is to be done
here? I must part with Gustavus, I fear.”

“'Take no care for your horse,” said the outlaw ; “he
shall soon be restored to you.”

As he spoke, he whistled in a low tone, and a lad, half
dressed in tartan, half naked, having only his own shagey
hair, tied with a thong of leather, to protect his head and
face from sun and weather, lean, and half-starved in as-
pect, his wild grey eyes appearing to fill up ten times the
proportion usually allotted to them in the human face, crep#

66 {A LEGEND OF MONTROSE.

put, as a wild beast might have done, from a thicket of
brambles and briars.

“Give your horse to the gillie,’ said Ranald Mac-
Kagh ; “ your life depends upon it.”

“ Och! och!” exclaimed the despairing veteran ;
“ Kheu! as we used to say at Mareschal College, must I
leave Gustavus in such gro ming ?”

“ Are you frantic to lore time thus?” said his guide ;
“do we stand on friend’s ground, that you should part
with your horse as if he were your brother. I tell
you, you shall have him again ; but if you never saw the
animal, is not life better than the best colt ever mare
foaled ?”

“ And that is true, too, mine honest friend,” sighed
Dalgetty; “yet if you knew the value of Gustavus,
and the things we two have done and suffered together—
See, he turns back to look at me |—Be kind to him, my 2g
good breechless friend, and I will requite you well.” So Z
saying, and withal sniffling a little to swallow his grief, he
turned from the heart-rending spectacle in order to follow
his guide.

To follow his guide was no easy matter, and soon re-
quired more agility than Captain Dalgetty could master.

The very first plunge after he had parted from his
sharger, carried him, with little assistance from a few
everhanging boughs, or projecting roots of trees, eight |
feet sheer down into the course of a torrent, up which

the Son of the Mist led the way. Huge stones, over |
which they scrambled,—thickets of thorn and brambles, .
through which they had to drag themselves,—rocks :
which were to be climbed on the one side with much
labour and pain, for the purpose of an equally precarious
descent upon the other ; all these, and many such inter-

   

STIG
GALS Z4
7

“Neus

 

{60 WAVERLEY NOVELS,

ruptions, were surmounted by the light-footed and half
naked mountaineer with an ease and velocity which
excited the surprise and envy of Captain Dalgetty, who,
encumbered by his head-piece, corselet, and other ar-
mour, not to mention his ponderous jack-boots, found
himself at length so much exhausted by fatigue, and the
difficulties of the road, that he sate down upon a stone in
order to recover his breath, while he explained to Ranald
MacKagh the difference betwixt travelling expeditus and
impeditus, as these two military phrases were understood
at Mareschal College, Aberdeen. The sole answer of
the mountaineer was to lay his hand on the soldier’s arm,
and point backward in the direction of the wind. Dal-

re-

yetty could spy nothing, for evening was closing fast, and
they were at the bottom of a dark ravine. But at length
he could distinctly hear at a distance the sullen toll of a
large bell.

“That,” said he, “must be the alarm—the storm-
clock, ds the Germans call it.”

“It strikes the hour of your death," answered Ran-
ald, “unless you can accompany me a little farther.
For every toll of that bell, a brave man has yielded up
his soul.”

“Truly, Ranald, my trusty friend,” said Dalgetty, “I
will not deny that the case may be soon my own; for I
am so forfouchten, (being, as I explained to you, impe-
ditus, for had I been eapeditus, I mind not pedestrian
exereise the flourish of a fite,) that I think I had better
ensconce myself in one of these bushes, and even: lie
quiet there to abide what fortune God shall send me. I
entreat you, mine honest friend Ranald; to shift for your-
calf, and leave me to my fortune, as the Lion of the
North, the immortal Gustavus Adolphus, my never-to-}e:

. ep
eee ae Soe eae SSSA LEGEND OF MONTROSE.

forgotten master, (whom you must surely have heard of,
Ranald, though you may have heard of no one else,) said
to Francis Albert, Duke of Saxe-Lauenburgh, when he
was mortally wounded on the plains of Lutzen. Neither
despair altogether of my safety, Ranald, seeing I have
becn in.as great pinches as this in Germany—wmore espe-
cially, | remember me, that at the fatal battle of Nerlingen
—after which I changed service——” ;

“Tf vou would save your father’s son’s breath to help
his child out of trouble, instead of wasting it upon the
tales of Seannachies,” said Ranald, who now grew impa-
tient of the Captain’s loquacity, “or if your feet could
travel as fast as your tongue, you might yet lay your
head on an unbloody pillow to-night.”

“ Something there is like military skill in that,” replied
the Captain, “although wantonly and irreverently spoken
to an otficer of rank. But I hold it good to pardon such
freedoms on a march, in respect of the Saturnalian license
indulged in such cases to the troops of all nations. And
now, resume thine office, friend Ranald, in respect I am
well-breathed ; or, to be more plain, / pre, sequar, as we
used to say at Mareschal College.”

Comprehending his meaning rather from his motions
than his language, the Son of the Mist again led the way,
with an wunerring precision that looked like instinct,
through a variety of ground the most difficult and broken
that could well be imagined. Dragging along his ponder-
pus boots, encumbered with thigh-pieces, gauntlets, corse-
let, and back-piece, not to mention the buff-jerkin which
he wore under all these arms, talking of his former
y, though Ranald paid not the
slightest attention to him, Captain Dalgetty contrived
o follow his guide a considerable space farther, wher

exploits the whole way,

“aL, XI- il162 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

the deep:mouthed baying of a hound was heard com:
ing down the wind, as if opening on the scent of its
be eae prey.
| He “Black hound,’ said Ranald, “whose throat never

: beded good to a Child of the Mist, ill fortune to her who
\ littered thee! hast thou already found our trace? But
thou art too late, swart hound of darkness, and the deer
has gained the herd.”

So saying, he whistled very softly, and was answered
in a tone equally low from the top of a pass, up which
they had for some time been ascending. Mending their
pace, they reached the top, where the moon, which had
now risen bright and clear, shewed to Dalgetty a party
of ten or twelve Highlanders, and about as many women
and children, by whom -Ranald MacKagh was received

| ie with such transports of joy, as made his companion easily
i)

 

sensible, that those by whom he was surrounded must

: i of course be Children of the Mist. The place which

\ | they occupied well suited their name and habits. It was
a beetling crag, round which winded a very narrow and

broken footpath, commanded in various places by the
position which they held.

Ranald spoke anxiously and hastily to the children of
his tribe, and the men came one by one to shake hands
with Dalgetty, while the women, clamorous in their
gratitude, pressed round to kiss even the hem of ‘his
garment.

“ They plight their faith to you,” said Ranald MackKagh,
“for requital of the good deed you have done to the tribe
this day.”

“ Knough said, Ranald,” answered the soldier, “enough
said—tell them I love not this shaking of hands—it con-

fuses ranks and degrees in military service; and as teA LEGEND OF MONTROSE. 163

kissing of gauntlets, puldrons, and the like, 1 remember
that the immortal Gustavus, as he rode through the streets
of Nuremberg, being thus worshipped by the populace,
(being doubtless far more worthy of it than a poor though
honourable cavalier like myself,) did say unto them, in
the way of rebuke, ‘If you idolize me thus like a god,
who shall assure you that the vengeance of Heaven will
not soon prove me to be a mortal ¢ >And so here, I sup-
pose, you intend to make a stand against your followers,
Ranald ?—voto a Dios, as the Spaniard says—a very
pretty position—as pretty a position for a small peloton

 

of men as I have seen in my service—no enemy can
come towards it by the road without being at the mercy
of cannon and musket.—But then, Ranald, my trusty
comrade, you have no cannon, I dare to aver, and I de
not see that any of these fellows have muskets either.—
So with what artillery you propose making good the pass,
before you come to hand blows, truly, Ranald, it passeth
my apprehension.”

“With the weapons and with the courage of ou.
fathers,” said MacEagh; and made the Captain observe,
that the men of his party were armed with bows and
arrows.

“ Bows and arrows!” exclaimed Dalgetty ; “ha! ha!
ha! have we Robin Hood and Little John back again?
Bows and arrows! why, the sight has not been seen in
civilized war for a hundred years. Bows and arrows!
and why not weavers -beams, as in the days of Goliah ¢
Ah! that Dugald Dalgetty, of Drumthwacket, should
\ive to see men fight with bows and arrows |—The im-
mortal Gustavus would never have believed it—nor
Wallenstein—nor Butler—nor old Tilly —Well, Ranald,

w cat ean have but its claws-—since bows and arrows are164 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

the word, e’en let us make the best of it. Only, as 1 du
not understand the scope and range of such old-fashioned
artillery, you must make the best disposition you can out
ef your own head ; for my taking the command, whilk J
would have gladly done had you been to fight with any
Christian w apons, 1s out of the question, when you ‘are
to combat like quivered Numidians. I w ill, however,
play my part with my pistols in the approaching mellay,

in res spect my carabine unh 1appily remains at Gustavus’s
saddle.

 

My service and thanks to you,” he continued,
addressing a mountaineer who offered him a bow; “ Du-

gald Dalgetty may say of himself, as he le: amid at
Mareschal College,—
Non eget Mauri jaculis, neque arcu,
Nec venenatis gravida sagittis,
Fusce, pharetra;

whilk is to say 2

 

Ranald MacEagh a second time imposed silence on
the talkative commander as before, by pulling his sleeye,
and pointing down the pass. The bay of the blood iKound
was now approaching nearer and nearer, and they could
hear the voices of several persons who accompanied the
animal, and hallooed to each other as they dispersed occa-
sionally, either in the hurry of their advance, or in order
to search more accurately the thickets as they came
along. They were obviously drawi Ing nearer and nearer
every moment. MacEKagh, in the meantime, proposed to
Captain Dalgetty to disencumber himself of his armour,
and gave him to understand that the women should tr
port it toa place of safety.

aus-

“I crave your pardon, sir,” said Dal lgetty, “such is not
the rule of our foreign service ; in respect, I remember

the regiment of Finland cuirassiers reprimanded, andA LEGEND OF MONTROSE.

their kettle-drums taken from them, by the immortal
Gustavus, because they had assumed the permission to
mareh without their corselets, and to leave them with the
bageage.. Neither did they strike kettle-drums again at
the head of that famous regiment until they behaved
themselves so notably at the field of Leipsic; a lesson
whilk is not to be forgotten, any more than that exclama-
tion of the immortal Gustavus, ‘ Now shall I know if my
officers love me, by their putting on their armour ; since,
if my officers are slain, who shall lead my soldiers inte
victory?’ Nevertheless, friend Ranald, this is without
prejudice to my being rid of these somewhat heavy boots,
providing I can obtain any other succedaneum ; foneak
presume not to say that my bare soles are fortified so as
to endure the flints and thorns, as seems to be the case
with your followers.”

To rid the Captain of his cumbrous greaves, and case
his feet in a pair of brogues made out of deer-skin, which
a Highlander stripped off for his accommodation, was the
work of a minute, and Dalgetty found himself much
lightened by the exchange. He was in the act of recom-
mending to Ranald MacEagh, to send two or three of his
followers a little lower to reconnoitre the pass, and, at
the same time, somewhat to extend his front, placing two
detached archers at each flank by way of posts of obser-
of the hound apprized them

ation, when the near cry
bottom of the pass. All

that the pursuers were at the
was then dead silence ; for, loquacious as he was on other
pecasions, Captain Dalgetty knew well the necessity of
an ambush keeping itself under covert.

The moon gleamed on the broken pathway, and on the
liffs of rock round which it winded, its light

projecting ¢
anches of bushes and

intercepted here and there by the br%

;

 

 

166 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

dwarf-tvees, which, finding nourishment in the crevices
of the rocks, in some places over-shadowed the brow and
ledge of the precipice. Below, a thick cupse-wood lay
in deep and dark shadow, somewhat resembling. the bil-
lows of a half-seen ocean. From the bosom of that
darkness, and close to the bottom ot the precipice, the
hound was heard at intervals, baymg fearfully, sounds
which were redoubled by the echoes of the woods and
rocks around. At intervals, these sunk into deep silence,
interrupted only by the plashing noise of a small runnel
of water, which partly fell from the rock, partly found a
more silent passage to the bottom, alone its projecting
surface. Voices of men were also heard in stifled con-
verse below; it seemed as if the pursuers had not
discovered the narrow path which led to the top of
the rock, or that, having discovered it, the peril of the
ascent, joined to the imperfect light, and the uncertainty
whether it might not be defended, made them hesitate to
attempt it.

At length a shadowy figure was seen, which raised
itself up from the abyss of darkness below, and, emerging
into the pale moonlight, began cautiously and slowly to
ascend the rocky path. The outline was so distinctly
marked, that Captain Dalgetty could discover not only
the person of a Highlander, but the long gun which he
carried in his hand, and the plume of feathers which
decorated his bonnet. “ Zausend terflen! that I should
say so, and so like to be near my latter end!” ejaculated
the Captain, but under his breath, “ what will become of
us, now they have brought musketry to encounter oar
archers ?”

But just as the pursuer had attained a projecting piece

of rock about half way up the ascent, and pausing, made

o>?A LEGEND OF MONTROSE. 16%

a signal for those who were suill at the bottom to follow
him, an arrow whistled from the bow of one of the Chil-
dren of the Mist, and transfixed him with so fatal a
wound, that, without a single effort to save himself, he
lost his balance, and fell headlong from the cliff on which
he stood, into the darkness below. The crash of the
boughs which received him, and the heavy sound of his
fall from thence to the ground, was followed by a cry of
horror and surprise, which burst from his followers. The
Children of the Mist, encouraged in proportion to the
alarm this first success had caused among the pursuers,
echoed back the clamour with a loud and shrill yell of
exultation, and, shewing themselves on the brow of the
precipice, with wild cries and vindictive gestures, endeav-
oured to impress on their enemies a sense at once of their
rourage, their numbers, and their state of defence. Even
Captain Dalgetty’s military prudence did not prevent his
rising up, and calling out to Ranald, more loud than pru-
dence warranted, ‘“Caroceo, comrade, as the Spaniard
says! The long-bow forever! In my poor apprehension
now, were you to order a file to advance and take posi-
tion

“The Sassenach!” cried a voice from beneath, “ mark

 

the Sassenach sidier! I see the glitter of his breastplate.”
At the same time three muskets were discharged; and
while one ball rattled against the corselet of proof, to the
strength of which our valiant Captain had been more
than once indebted for his life, another penetrated the
armour which covered the front of his left thigh, and
stretched him on the ground. Ranald instantly seized
tim in his arms. and bore him back from the edge of the
precipice, while he dolefully ejaculated, “I always told
the immortal Gustavus, Wallenstein. Tilly, and other168 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

men of the sword, that, in my poor mind, taslets ought
to be made musket-proof.”

With two or three earnest words in Gaelic, MacHKagh
commended the wounded man to the charge of the
females, who were in the rear of his little party, and was
then about to return to the contest. But Dalgetty
detained him, grasping a firm hold of his plaid—*1
know not how this matter may end—but I request you
will inform Montrose, that I died. like a follower of the

 

immortal Gustavus—and I pray you, take heed how you
quit your present strength, even for the purpose of pur:

and—

 

suing the enemy, if you gain any advantage

 

and

Here Dalgetty’s breath and eyesight began to fail him
through loss of blood, and MacKagh, availing himself of
this circumstance, extricated from his grasp the end of
his own mantle, and substituted that of a female, by which
the Captain held stoutly, thereby securing, as he conceived,
the outlaw’s attention to the military instructions which
he continued to pour forth while he had any breath to
utter them, though they became gradually more and more
inconerent—“And, comrade, you will be sure to keep your
musketeers in advance of your stand of pikes, Lochaber-
axes, and two-handed swords—Stand fast, dragoons, on
the left flank! where was I1?—Ay, and, Ranald, if ye be
minded to retreat, leave some lighted matches burning on
the branches of the trees—it shews as if they were lined
with shot—But I forget—ye have ne matchlocks nor
habergeons—only bows and arrows—bows and arrows!
ha! ha! ha!”

Here the Captain sunk back in an exhausted condition
altogether unable to resist the sense of the ludicrous which,

as 2 modern man-at-arms, he connected with the idea ofA LEGEND OF MONTROSE. 169

these ancient weapons of war. It-was a long time ere he

recovered his senses; and, in the meantime, we leave him
in the care of the Daughters of the Mist; nurses as kind
and attentive, in reality, as they were wild and uncouth
in outward appearance. |WAVERLEY NOVELS.

: CHAPTER XV.

But if no faithless action stain
Thy true and constant word,
JT’ll make thee famous by my pen,

And glorious by my sword.

I'll serve thee in such noble ways
As ne’er were known before;

Pll deck and crown thy head with bays,
And love thee more and more.

 

a Fn ta Monrrose’s Lines.
:

. We must now leave, with whatever regret, the valiant
\ a Captain Dalgetty, to recover of his wounds or otherwise

| ns fate shall determine, in order briefly to trace the mili-
tary operations of Montrose, worthy as they are of a
more important page, and a better historian. By the
assistance of the chieftains whom we have commemorated,
and more especially by the junction of the Murrays,
Stewarts, and other clans of Athole, which were pecu-

 

liarly zealous in the royal cause, he soon assembled an
army of two or three thousand Highlanders, to whom he
successfully united the Irish under Colkitto. This last
leader, who, to the great embarrassment of Milton’s com-
mentators, is commemorated in one of that great poet’s
sonnets,* was properly named Alister, or Alexander

* Miiton’s book, entitled Tetrachordon, had been ridiculed, it would
seem, by the divines.assembled at Westminster, and others, on accouns
ef the hardness of the citle; and Milton in his sonnet retaliates uponA LEGEND OF MONTROSE. 17]

M‘Donnell, by birth a Scottish islesman, and related te
the Earl of Antrim, to whose patronage he owed the
command assigned him in the Irish troops. In many
respects he merited this distinction. He was brave to
intrepidity, and almost to insensibility ; very strong and
active in person, completely master of his weapons, and
always ready to shew the example in the extremity ot
danger. To counterbalance these good qualities, it mus
be recorded, that he was inexperienced in military tactics,
and of a jealous and presumptuous disposition, which
often lost to Montrose the fruits of Colkitto’s gallantry.
Yet such is the predominance of outward personal quali-
ties in the eyes of a wild people, that the feats of strength
and courage shewn by this champion, seem to have made
a stronger impression upon the minds of the Highlanders,
than the military skill and chivalrous spirit of the great
Marquis of Montrose. Numerous traditions are. still
preserved in the Highland elens concerning Alister
M:Donnell, though the name of Montrose is rarely men-
tioned among them. 7

The point upon which Montrose finally assembled his

the barbarous Scottish names which the Civil War had made familiar

to English ears :—

 

why is it harder, sirs, than Gordon,
Colkitto, or M'‘Donald, or Gallasp?

These rugged names to our like mouths grow sleek,
That would have made Quintilian stare and gasp.

» says Bishop Newton, “that these were persons
of note among the Scotch ministers, who were for pressing and enfore-
ing the Covenant;”’ whereas Milton only intends to ridicule the
yarbarism of Scottish names in general, and quotes indiscriminately,
that of Gillespie, one of the Apostles of the C
Colk:tto and M‘Donnell, (both belonging to one person,
bitterest enemies

“ We may suppose,

ovenant, and those of
) one of its

III[72 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

little army, was in Strathearn, on the verge of the Hivh.
lands of Perthshire, so as to menace the principal town
of that county.

His enemies were not unprepared for his reception.
Argyle, at the head of his Highlanders, was dogging the
steps of the Irish from the west to the east, and by force,
fear, or influence, had collected an army nearly sufficient
to have given battle to Montrose. The Lowlands were
also prepared, for reasons which we.assigned at the begin-
ning of this tale. A body of six thousand infantry, and
six or seven thousand cavalry, which profanely assumed
the title of God’s army, had been hastily assembled from
the shires of Fife, Angus, Perth, Stirling, and the neigh-
bouring counties. A much less force in former times,
nay, even in the preceding reign, would have been suffi-
cient to have secured the Lowlands against a more formid-
uble descent of Highlanders, than those united under
Montrose; but times had changed strangely within the
last haf century. Before that period, the Lowlanders
were as constantly engaged in war as the mountaineers,
and were incomparably better disciplined and armed.
The favourite Scottish order of battle somewhat resem-
bled the Macedonian phalanx. Their infantry formed a
compact body, armed with long spears; impenetrable even
to the men-at-arms of the age, though well mounted, and
arrayed in complete proof. It may easily be conceived.
therefore, that their ranks could not be broken by the
disorderly charge of Highland infantry armed for close
combat only, with swords, and ill furnished with missile
weapons, and having no artillery whatever.

This habit of fight was in a great measure changed by
the introduction of muskets into the Scottish Lewland
service, which, not being as yet combined with the hay-A LEGEND- OF MONTROSE. Lie

onet, was a formidable weapon at a distance, but gave no
assurance against the enemy who rushed on to close
quarters. ‘The pike, indeed, was not wholly disused in
the Scottish army; but it was no longer the favourite
weapon, nor was it relied upon as formerly by those in
whose hands it was placed ; insomuch that Daniel Lupton,
a tactician of the day, has written a book expressly upon
the superiority of the musket. This change commenced
as early as the wars of Gustavus Adolphus, whose marches
were made with such rapidity, that the pike was very soon
thrown aside in his army, and exchanged for fire-arms

C,

A circumstance which necessarily accompanied this change
as well as the establishment of standing armies, whereby
war became a trade, was the introduction of a laborious
and complicated system. of discipline, combining a variety
of words of command with corresponding operations and
manceuvres, the neglect of any one of which was sure to
throw the whole into confusion. War, therefore, as prac-

tised among most nations of Europe, had assumed much

3
more than formerly the character of a profession or mys-
tery, to which previous practice and experience were
indispensable requisites. Such was the natural conse-
quence of standing armies, which had almost everywhere,
and particularly in the long German wars, superseded
what may be called the natural discipline of the feudal
militia.

The Scottish Lowland militia, therefore, laboured under
a double disadvantage when opposed to Highlanders.
They were divested of the spear, a weapon which, in the
hands of their ancestors, had so often repelled the impet-
uous assaults of the mountaineer ; and they were subjected
to anew and complicated species of discipline, well adapted,
perhaps, to the use of regular troops, who could be ren,cpa ecg y
oar “

 

}

174 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

dered completely masters of it, but tending only to eenfuse
the ranks of citizen soldiers, by whom it was rarely prac-
tised, and imperfectly understood. So much has been
done in our own time in bringing back tactics to their
first principles, and in getting rid of the pedantry of war,
that it is easy for us to estimate the disadvantages under
which a half-trained militia laboured, who were taught to
consider success as depending upon their exercising with
precision a system of tactics, which they probably only so
far comprehended as to find out when they were wrong,
but without the power of getting right again. Neither
can it be denied, that in the material points of military
habits and warlike spirit, the Lowlanders. of the seven-
teenth century had sunk far beneath their Highland
countrymen.

From the earliest period down to the union of the
crowns, the whole kingdom of Scotland, Lowlands as well
as Highlands, had been the constant scene of war, foreign
and domestic; and there was probably scarce one of its
hardy inhabitants, between the age of sixteen and sixty,
who was not as willing in point of fact, as he was literally
bound in law, to assume arms at the first call-of his hege
lord, or of a royal proclamation. The law remained the
same in sixteen hundred and forty-five as a hundred years
before, but the race of those subjected to it had been bred
up under very different feelings. They had sat in quiet
under their vine and under their fig-tree, and a call to
battle involved a change of life as new as it was disagree-
able. Such of them, also, who lived near unto the High-
lands, were in continual and disadvantageous contact with
the restless inhabitants of those mountains, by whom their
cattle were driven off, their dwellings plundered, and their

persons isulted, and who had acquired over them thatA LEGEND OF MONTROSE. 175

sort of superiority arising from a constant system of ag:
gression. ‘The Lowlanders, who lay more remote, and
out of reach of these depredations, were influenced by the
exaggerated reports circulated concerning the Highland-
ers, whom, as totally differing in laws, language, and
dress, they were induced to regard as a nation of savages,
equally void of fear and of humanity. These various
prepossessions, joined to the less warlike habits of the
Lowlanders, and their imperfect knowledge of the new
and complicated system of discipline for which they had
exchanged their natural mode of fighting, placed them at
great disadvantage when opposed to the Highlander in
the field of battle. The mountaineers, on the contrary,
with the arms and courage of their fathers, possessed alse
their simple and natural system of tactics, and bore down
with the fullest confidence upon an enemy, to whom any
thing they had been taught of discipline was, like Saul’s
armour upon David, a hinderance rather than a help,
“because they had not proved it.”

It. was with such disadvantages on the one side, and
such advantages on the other, to counterbalance the ditffer-
ence of superior numbers and the presence of artillery
and cavalry, that Montrose encountered the army of Lord
Elcho upon the field of Tippermuir. The Presbyterian
clergy had not been wanting in their efforts to rouse the
spirit of their followers; and one of them, who harangued
the troops on the very day of battle, hesitated not to say,
that if ever God spoke by his moutk, he promised them,
in His name, that day, a great and assured victory. The
eavalry and artillery were also reckoned sure warrants
of success, as the novelty of their attack had upon former
oceasions been very discouraging to the Highlanders.
The place of meeting was an open heath, and the groundi amanamae sommmn “

176 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

afforded little advantage to either party, except that it
allowed the horse of the Covenanters to act with effect.

A battle, upon which so much depended, was never
more easily decided. The Lowland cavalry made a shew
of eharging ; but, whether thrown into disorder by the
firs of musketry, or deterred by a disaffection to the
service said to have prevailed among the gentlemen, they
made no impression on the Highlanders whatever, and
recoiled in disorder from ranks which had neither bay-
onets nor pikes to protect them. Montrose saw, and
instantly availed himself of this advantage. He ordered
his whole army to charge, which they performed with the
wild and desperate valour peculiar to mountaineers. One
officer of the Covenanters alone, trained in the Italian
wars, made a desperate defence upon the right wing. In
every other point their line was penetrated at the first
onset ; and this advantage once obtained, the Lowlanders
were utterly unable to contend at close quarters with their
more agile and athletic enemies. Many were slain on the
field, and such a number in the pursuit, that above one-
third of the Covenanters were reported to have fallen ;
in which number, however, must be computed a great
many fat burgesses who broke their wind in the flight,
and thus died without stroke of sword.*

The victors obtained possession of Perth, and obtained
considerable sums of money, as well as ample supplies
of arms and ammunition. But those advantages were to
be balanced against’ an almost insurmountable incon:
venience that uniformly attended a Highland army.

* We choose to quote our authority for a fact so singular:—“ A
preat many burgesses were killed—twenty-five householders in St
Andrews—many were bursten in the flight, and died without stroke.’
~-See BAILLIE’s Letters, vol. li. page 92.

= sateen ear a ee So SaA LEGEND OF MONTROSE.. 177

The clans could be in no respect induced to consider
themselves as regular soldiers, or to act as such. Even
so late as the year 1745-6, when the Chevalier Charles
Edward, by way of making-an example, caused a soldier
to be shot for desertion, the Highlanders, who composed
his army, were affected as much by indignation as by
fear. They could not conceive -any principle of justice
upen which a man’s life could be taken, for merely going
home when it did not suit him to remain longer with the
army. Such had been the uniform practice of their
fathers. When a battle was over, the campaign was, in
their opinion, ended ; if it was lost, they sought safety in
their mountains—if won, they returned there to secure
their booty. At other times they had their cattle to look
after, and their harvests to sow or reap, without which
their families would have perished for want. In either
ease, there was an end of their services for the time;
and though they were easiiy enough recalled by the pros-
pect of fresh adventures and more plunder, yet the oppor-
tunity of success was, in the meantime, lost, and “could
not afterwards be recovered. ‘This circumstance serves
to shew, even if history had not made us acquainted with
the same fact, that the Highlanders had never been
secustomed to make war with the view of permanent
conquest, but only with the hope of deriving temporary
advantage, or deciding some immediate quarrel. It also
explains the reason why Montrose, with all his splendid
successes, never obtained any secure or permanent footing
in the Lowlands, and why even those Lowland noblemen
and gentlemen, who were inclined to the royal cause,
shewed diffidence and reluctance to join an army of a
character so desultory and irregular, as might lead them
at all times to apprehend that the Highlanders, securing

YOU. XIt. ima
so

Bix Tl
ae

Ah toma ems

iy

178 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

themselves by a retreat to their mountains, would leave
whatever Lowlanders might have joined them to the
mercy of an offended and predominant euemy. The
same consideration will also serve to account for the

sudden marches which Montrose was obliged to under-

take, in order to recruit his army in the mountains, and
for the rapid changes of fortune, by which we often find
him obliged to retreat from before those enemies over
whom he had recently been victorious. If there should
be any who read these tales for any farther purpose than
that of immediate amusement, they will find these remarks
not unworthy of their recollection.

It was owing to such causes, the slackness of the Low-
land loyalists and the temporary desertion of his High-
land followers, that Montrose found himself, even after
the decisive victory of Tippermuir, in no condition to face
the second army with which Argyle advanced upon him
from the westward. In this emergency,’ supplying by
velocity the want of strength,-he moved suddenly from
Perth to Dundee, and being refused admission into that
town, fell northward upon Aberdeen, where he expected
to be joined by the Gordons and other loyalists. But the
zeal of these gentlemen was, for the time, effectually
bridled by a large body of Covenanters, commanded by
the Lord Burleigh, and supposed to amount to three
thousand men. These Montrose boldly attacked with
Lalf their number. The battle was fought under the
walls of the city, and the resolute valour of Montrose’s
followers was again successful against every disadvantage.

Bat it was the fate of this great commander always to
gain the glory, but seldom to reap the fruits of victery.
Ue had scarcely time to repose his small army in Aber
deen, ere he found, on the one hand, that the GordonsA LEGEND OF MONTROSE. 179

wer) likely to be deterred from joining him. by the
reasons we have mentioned, with some others peculiar to
their chief, the Marquis of Huntly; on the other hand,
Argyle, whose forces had been augmented by those of
several Lowland noblemen, advanced towards Montrose
at the head of an army much larger than he had yet had
to cope with. These troops moved, indeed, with slow-
mess, corresponding to the cautious character of their
commander; but even that caution rendered Argyle’s
approach formidable, since his very advance implied,
that he was at the head of an army irresistibly superior.
There remained one mode of retreat open to Montrose,
and he adopted it. He threw himself into the Highlands,
where he could set pursuit at defiance, and where he was
sure, in every glen, to recover those recruits who had left
his standard to deposit their booty in their native fast-
nesses. It was thus that the singular character of the
army which Montrose commanded, while, on the one
hand, it rendered his victory in some degree nugatory,
enabled him, on the other, under the most disadvan -
tageous circumstances, to secure his retreat, recruit his
forces, and render himself more formidable than ever to
ihe enemy, before whom he had lately been unable to
make a stand. 7

On the present occasion he threw himself into Bade-
noch, and rapidly traversing that district, as well as the
meighbouring country of Athole, he alarmed the Cove-
nanters by successive att
points, and spread such general dismay, that repeated
grders were despatched by the Parliament to Argyle,

their commander, to engage, and disperse Montrose at all

acks upon various unexpected

rates.

These commands from his superiors neither suited the180 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

haughty spirit, nor the temporizing and cautious policy,
of the nobleman to whom they were addressed. He
paid, accordingly, no regard to them, but limited his
efforts to intrigues among Montrose’s few Lowland fol-
lowers, many of whonr had become disgusted with the
prospect of -a Highland campaign, which exposed their
persons to intolerable fatigue, and left their estates at the
Covenanters’ mercy. Accordingly, several of them left
Montrose’s camp at this period. _He was joined, how-
ever, by a body of forces of more congenial spirit, and far
better adapted to the situation in which he found himself.
This reinforcement consisted of a large body of High-
landers, whom Colkitto, despatched for that purpose, had
levied in Argyleshire. Among the most distinguished
was John of Moidart, called the Captain of Clan Ranald,
with the Stewarts of Appin, the Clan Gregor, the Clan
M‘Nab, and other tribes of inferior distinction. By these
means, Montrose’s army was so formidably increased,
that Argyle cared no longer to remain in the command
of that opposed to him, but returned to Edinburgh, and
there threw up his commission, under pretence that his
army was not supplied with reinforcements and provis-
ions in the manner in which they ought to have been
From thence the Marquis returned to Inverary, there, in
lull security, to govern his feudal vassals, and patriarcha:
followers and to repose himself in safety on the faith of
the Clan proverb already quoted— It is a far cry te
Lochow.’& LEGEND OF MONTROSE. 121

CHAPTER XVI.

Such mountains steep, such craggy hills,
His army on one side enclose:

The other side, great griesly gills,
Did fence with fenny mire and moss.

Which when the Earl understood,
He counsel craved of captains all,

Who bade set forth with mournful mood,
And take such fortune as would fall.

FLOpDEN FIELD, an Aactent Poem.

Montrose had now a splendid career in his view,
provided he could obtain the consent of his gallant, but
desultory troops, and their independent chieftains. The
Lowlands lay open before him without an army ade-
quate to check his career ; for Argyle’s followers had
left the Covenante
, and many other troops, tired of the war,
and themselves.

rs’ host when their master threw up

ais commission
had taken the same opportunity to disb
By descending Strath-Tay, theretore, one of the most
convenient passes from the Highlands, Montrose had
only to present himself in the Lowlands, in order to
slumbering spirit of chivalry and of loyalty

rouse the
en to the north of the Forth.

which animated the gentlem
‘The possession of these districts
would give him the command of a wealthy and fertile
part of the kingdom, and would enable him, by regular
army on a more permanent footing, ta

, with or without a victory,

yay, to place his[82 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

penetrate as far as the capital, perhaps from thence to
the Border, where he deemed it possible to communicate
with the yet unsubdued forces of King Charles.

Such was the plan of operations by which the truest
glory was to be acquired, and the most importan: success
insured for the royal cause. Accordingly it did not
escape the ambitious and daring spirit of him whose
services had already acquired him the title of the Great
Marquis. But other motives actuated many of his fol-
lowers, and perhaps were not without their secret and
unacknowledged influence upon his own feelings.

The Western Chiefs in Montrose’s army, almost to a
man, regarded the Marquis of Argyle as the most
direct and proper object of hostilities. Almost all of
them had felt his power; almost all, in withdrawing their
fencible men from their own glens, left their families and
property exposed to his vengeance ; all, without excep-
tion, were desirous of diminishing his sovereignty ; and
most of them lay so near his territories, that they might
reasonably hope to be gratified by a share of: his spoil.
To these Chiefs the possession of Inverary and its castle
was an event infinitely more important and desirable than
the capture of Edinburgh. The latter event could only
nfford their clansmen a little transitory pay or plunder ;
the former insured to the Chiefs themselves indemnity
for the past, and security for the future. Besides these
personal reasons, the leaders, who favoured this opinion,
plausibly urged, that though, at his first descent into the
Lowlands. Montrose might be superior to the enemy, yet
»very day's march he made from the hills must diminish
his own forces, and expose him- to the accumulated
superiority of any army which the Covenanters could
collect from the Lowland levies and garrisons. On theA LEGEND OF MONTROSE. 183

othe: hand, by crushing Argyle effectually, he would not
only permit his present western friends to bring out that
proportion of their forces which they must otherwise
leave at home for protection of their families; but farther,
he would draw to his standard several tribes already
friendly to his cause, but who were prevented from join-
ing him by fear of M‘Callum More.

These arguments, as we have already hinted, found
someth'ng responsive in Montrose’s own bosom, not quite
consonant with the general heroism of his character.
Che houses of Argyle and Montrose had been, in former
.imes, repeatedly opposed to each other in war and in
politics, and the superior advantages acquired by the
cormer, had made them the subject of envy and dislike to
che neighbouring family, who, conscious of equal desert,
had not been so richly rewarded. This was not all.
The existing heads of these rival families had stood m
the most marked opposition to vach other since the com-
mencement of the present troubles.

Montrose, conscious of the superiority of his talents,
and of having rendered great service to the Covenanters,
at the beginning of the war, had expected from that party
the supereminence of council and command, which they
judged it safer to intrust to the more limited faculties,
and more extensive power, of his rival Argyle. The
having awarded this preference, was an injury which
Montrose never forgave the Covenanters; and he was
still iss likely to extend his pardon to Argyle, to whom
he had been postponed. He was therefore stinggl ted by
every tecling of hatred which could animate a fiery tem-
ger in a fierce age, to seek for revenge upon the enemy
of his beuse and person ; and it is probable that these

private mutives operated not a little upon his mind, when- me

\

 

184 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

he found the principal part of his followers determined
rather to undertake an expedition against the territories
of Argyle, than tc take the far more decisive step of
descending at once into the Lowlands.

Yet whatever temptation Montrose found to carry into
effect his attack upon Argyleshire, he could not easily
briag nimself to renounce the splendid achievement of a
descent upon the Lowlands. He held more than gne
covneil with the principal Chiefs, combating, perhaps, his
owu secret inclination as well as theirs. He laid before
them the extreme difficulty of marching even a Highland
army from the eastward into Argyleshire, through passes
scarcely practicable for shepherds and deer-stalkers, and
over mountains with which even the clans lying nearest te
them did not pretend to be thoroughly acquainted. These
difficulties were greatly enhanced by the season of the
year, which was now advancing towards December, when
the mountain-passes, in themselves so difficult, might be
expected to be rendered utterly impassable by snow-
storms. These objections neither satisfied nor silenced
the Chiets, who insisted upon their ancient mode of mak-
ing war, by driving the cattle, which, according to the
Gaelic phrase, “fed upon. the grass of their enemy.”
The council was dismissed late at night, and without
coming to any decision, excepting that the Chiefs, who
supported the opinion that Argyle should be invaded,
promised to seek out among their followers those whe
might be most capable of undertaking the office of guides
pon the expedition.

Montrose had retired to the cabin which served him
for a tent, and stretched himself upon a bed of dry fern,
the only place. of repose which it afforded. But he
courted sleep in vain, for the visions of ambition excludedA 1EGEND OF MONTROSE. 185

those of Morpheus. In one moment he imagined himself
displaying the royal banner from the reconquered Castle
of Edinburgh, detaching assistance to a monarch whose
crown depended upon his success, and receiving in
requital all the advantages and preferments which could
be heaped upon him whom a king delighteth to honour.
At another time this dream, splendid as it was, faded
before the vision of gratified vengeance, and personal
triumph over a personal enemy. ‘To surprise Argyle in
to crush in him at once the

 

his stronghold of Inverary
rival of his own house and the chief support of the Pres-
byterians—to shew the Covenanters the difference be-
tween the preferred Argyle and the postponed Montrose,
was a picture too flattermg to feudal vengeance to be
easily relinquished.

While he lay thus busied with contradictory thoughts
and feelings, the soldier who stood sentinel upon his
quarters announced to the Marquis that two persons
desired to speak with his Excellency.

“ Their names?” answered Montrose, “ and the cause
of their urgency at such a late hour?”

On these points, the sentinel, who was one of Colkitto’s
Irishmen, could afford his General little information ; so
that Montrose, who at such a period durst refuse access
to no one, lest he might have been neglecting some impor-
tant intelligence, gave directions, as a necessary precaus
tion, to put the guard under arms, and then prepared to
receive his untimely visiters. His groom of the chambers
had scarce lighted a pair of torches, and Montrose him-
yvelf had scarce risen from his couch, when two men
entered, one wearing a Lowland dress, of shamoy leather
worn almost to tatters; the other a tall upright old High-
lander, of a complexion which might be termed irop-grey,

wastud and worn by frost and tempest.

IMMM 050220 04
emi

Mii , "

eleian:

%,

Sar eo

L186 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

“What may be your commands with me, my friends?”
said the Marquis, his hand almost unconsciously seeking
the but of one of his pistols; for the period, as well as
the time of night, warranted suspicions which the good
mien of his visiters was not by any means calculated to
remove.

“T pray leave to congratulate you,” said the Lowlander
“my most noble General, and right honourable lord, upon
the great battles which you -have achieved since I had the
fortune to be detached from-you. It was a pretty affair
that tuilzie at Tippermuir; nevertheless, if I might be

99

 

permitted to counsel

“ Before doing so,” said the Marquis, “ will you be
pleased to let me know who is so kind as to favour me
with his opinion ? ”

“Truly, my lord,’ replied the man, “I should have
koped that was unnecessary, seeing it is not so long since
I took on in your service, under promise of a commission
as Major, with half a dollar of daily pay and half a dollar
of arrears ; and I am to trust your lordship has not for-
gotten my pay as well as my person ?”

“My good friend, Major Dalgetty,” said Montrose, whe
by this time perfectly recollected his man, “you must
consider what important things have happened to put my
friends’ faces out of my memory ; besides this imperfect
light ; but all conditions shall be kept.—And what news
from Argyleshire, my good Major? We have long given
you up for lost, and I was now preparing to take the most
kignal vengeance upon the old fox who infringed the law
of arms in your person.”

“Truly, my noble lord,” said Dalgetty, “I have no
Resire that my return should put any stop to so proper
aud becoming an intention verily it is in no shape inA LEGEND OF MONTROSE, 187

the Earl of Argyle’s favour or mercy that I now stand
before you, and I shall be no intercessor for him. But
wy escape is, under Heaven, and the excellent dexterity
which, as an old and accomplished cavalier, I displayed

 

in effecting the same,—I say, under these, it is owing to
the assistance of this old Hichlander, whom I venture ts
recommend to your lordship’s special favour, as the instru-
ment of saving your lordship’s to command, Dugald Dal-
getty of Drumthwacket.”

« A thankworthy service,” said the Marquis, gravely,
“ which shall certainly be requited in the manner it
deserves.”

« Kneel down, Ranald,” said Major Dalgetty, (as we
must now call him,) “ kneel down, and kiss his Excellen-
ey’s hand.

The prescribed form of acknowledgment not being ac-
cording to the custom of Ranald’s country, he contented
himself with folding his arms on his bosom, and making a
low inclination of his head.

«This poor man, my lord,” said Major Dalgetty, con-
{inuing his speech with a dignified air of protection tow-
ards Ranald MacEagh, “has strained all his slender
means to defend my person from mine enemies, although
having no better weapons of a missile sort than bows and
arrows, Whilk your lordship will hardly believe.”

“You will see a great many such weapons In my
camp,” said Montrose, * and we find them serviceable.” *

“ Serviceable, my lord!” said Dalgetty ; “I trust yout

f archery it may be stated, not only

that many of the Highlanders in Montrose’s army used these antique
missiles, but even in England the bow and quiver, once the glory of
she bold yeomen of that land, were ocvasionally used during the great

yvil wars.

* ‘Ip fact, for the admirers 0188 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

lordship will permit me to be surprised—bows and ar
rows |—I trust you will forgive my recommending the
substitution of muskets the first convenient opportunity.
But besides defending me, this honest Highlander also
was at the pains of curing me, in respect that I had got a
touch of the wars in my retreat, which merits my best
requital in this special introduction of him to your lord-
ship’s notice and protection.”

“What is your name, my friend®?” said Montrose,
turning to the Highlander.

“It may not be spoken,” answered the mountaineer.

“That is to say,” interpreted Major Dalgetty, “he
desires to have his name concealed, in respect he hath in
former days taken a castle, slain certain children, and
done other things, whilk, as your good lordship knows,
are often practised in war time, but excite no benevo-
lence towards the perpetrator in the friends of those
who sustain injury. I have known, in my military
experience, many brave cavaliers put to death by the
boors, simply for having used military license upon the
rountry.”

“IT understand,” said Montrose: “ This person is at
foud with some of our followers. Let him retire to the
court of guard, and we will think of the best mode of
protecting kim.”

“You hear, Ranald,” said Major Dalgetty, with an air
of superiority, “his Excellency wishes to hold privy coun-
cil with me, you must go to the court of guard.—He does
hot know where that is, poor fellow !—he is a young sol-
dier for so old a man; I wil

| put him under the charge
of a sentinel,

and return to your lordship incontinent.’
He did so, and returned accordingly.

Montrose’s first inquiry respected the embassy to InveA LEGEND OF MONTROSE. 189

rary; and he listened with attention to Dalgetty’s reply,

notwithstanding the prolixity of the Major’s narrative.

It required an effort from the Marquis to maintain his

attention: but no one better knew, that where information

‘< to be derived from the report of such. agents as Dal-

getty, it can only be obtained by suffering them to tell
their story in their own way. Accordingly the Marquis’s
patience was at length rewarded. Among other spails
which the captain thought himself at liberty to take, was
a packet of Argyle’s private papers. ‘These he consigned
to the hands of his General; a humour of accounting,
however, which went no farther, for I do not understand
ntion of the purse of gold which he
same time that he made seizure
Snatching a torch from the wall,
Montrose was in an instant deeply engaged in the perusal
of these documents, in which it is probable he found
sonal resentment against his

that he made any me
had appropriated at the
of the papers aforesaid.

something to animate his per
rival Argyle.

“ Does he not fear me?” said he; “t
Will he fire my castle of Murdoch ?—Inverary shall
a guide through the skirts of

hen he shall feel

me.
raise the first smoke—O for
Strath-Fillan ! ”

Whatever might be Dalgetty’s
sufficiently to guess at Mon-
errupted his own pro-

personal conceit, he

understood his business
trose’s meaning. He instantly int
tion of the skirmish which had taken place,
d he had received in his retreat, and. began
interested. his Gen-

lix narra
and the woun

(o speak to the point which he saw

eral.

“Tf” said he, “ your Exe
infall into Argyleshire, this poor man,
ogether with his children and companions, know

ellency wishes to make an
Ranald, of whom 1

told you, ta nn
aaa

+5 memes

eas
ant sae X

190 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

every pass into that land, both leading from the east and
from the north.”

“Indeed!” said Montrose; “what reason have you to
believe their knowledge so extensive ? ”

‘So please .your Excellency,’ answered Dalgetty,
“during the weeks that I. remained with them — fer
cure of my’ wound, they were repeatedly obligated te
shift their quarters, in respect of Argyle’s repeated at-
tempts to repossess himself of the person of an officer
who was honoured with your Excellency’s confidence ;
so that I had occasion to admire the singular dexterity
and knowledge of the face of the country with which
they alternately achieved their retreat and their ad-
vance ; and when, at length, I was able to repair to your
Excellency’s standard, this honest simple creature, Ran-
ald MacEagh, guided me by paths which my steed
Gustavus (which your lordship may remember) — trod
with perfect safety, so that I said to myself, that where
guides, spies, or intelligencers were required in a High-
land campaign in that western country, more expert per-
sons than he and his attendants could not possibly be
desired.” .

“And can you answer for this man’s fidelity ?” said
Montrose ; “ what is his name and condition ? ”

“ He is an outlaw and robber by profession, something
also of a homicide or murderer,” answered Dalgetty ;
~ and by name, called Ranald MacEagh ; whilk signifies,
Ranald, the Son of the Mist.”

“T should remember something of that name,” said
Montrose, pausing; “Did not these Children of the
Mist perpetrate some act of cruelty upon the M‘Au.
lays?”

Major Dalgetty mentioned the circumstance of theA LEGEND OF MONTROSE. 191

murder of the Forester, and Montrose’s active memory
at once recalled all the circumstances of the feud.

“It is most unlucky,” said Montrose, “ this inexpiable
quarrel between these men and the M‘Aulays. Allan
has borne himself bravely in these wars, and possesses,
by the wild mystery of his behaviour and language, so
much influence over the minds of his countrymen, that
the consequences of disobliging him might be serious.
At the same time, these men being so capable of render.
tug useful service, and being, as you say, Major Daleetty,

99

 

perfectly trustworthy

“JT will pledge my pay and arrears, my horse and
arms, my head and neck, upon their fidelity,” said the
Major; “and your Excellency knows, that a soldado
could say no more for his own father.”

“True,” said Montrose; “but as this is a matter of
particular moment, I would willingly know the grounds
of so positive an assurance.”

“ Concisely then, my lord,” said the Major, “not only
did they disdain to profit by a handsome reward which
Argyle did me the honour to place upon this poor head
of mine, and not only did they abstain from pillaging my
personal property, whilk was to an amoant that would
have tempted regular soldiers in any service of Europe;
and not only did they restore me my horse, whilk your
Excellency knows to be of value, but I could not prevail
on them to accept one stiver, doit, or maravedi tor the
trouble and expenses of my sick bed. They actually
refused my coined meney when freely offered,—a tale
seldom to be told in a Christian land.”

“J admit,’ said Montrose, after a moment’s reflection,
“that their conduct towards you is good evidence of their
fidelity ; but how to secure against the breaking out ef-

—
> ER

em o ie
~ ee aa

|

 

192 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

this feud?” He paused, and then suddenly added, “2
had forgot 1] have supped, while you, Major, have been
tray elling by moonlight.”

He called to his attendants to fetch a stoup of wine and
some refreshments. Major Dalgetty, who had the appe-
tite of a convalescent returned from Highland quarters,
needed not any pressing to partake of what was set before
him, but proceeded to despatch his food with such alacrity,
that the Marquis, filling a cup of wine, and drinking to
his health, could not help remarking, that coarse as the
provisions of his camp were, he was afraid Major Dal-
getty had fared much worse during his excursion into
Argyleshire.

“ Your Excellency may take your corporal oath upon
that,” said the worthy Major, speaking with his mouth
full; “for Argyle’s bread and water are yet stale and
mouldy in my recollection, and though they did their
best, yet the viands that the Children of the Mist pro-.
cured for me, poor helpless creatures as they were, were
so unrefreshful to my body, that when enclosed in my
armour, whilk I was fain to leave behind me for
expedition’s sake, I rattled therein like the shrivelled
kernel in a nut that hath been kept on to a second
Hallow-e’en.”

“You must take the due means to repair these losses,
Major Dalgetty.”

“In troth,” answered the soldier, “I shall hardly be
able to compass that, unless my arrears are to be ex-
changed for present pay ; for I protest to your Excellency,
that the three stone weight which I have lost were simply
raised upon the regular accountings of the States of Hol-
land.”

“ In that case,” said the Marquis, “ you are only reducedA LEGEND OF MONTROSE. 193

to good marching order. As for the pay, let us one3 have
victory—victory, Major, and your wishes, and all our
wishes, shall be amply fulfilled. Meantime, help your-
self to another cup of wine.”

“To your Excellency’s health,” said the Major, filling
a cup to the brim, to shew the zeal with which he drank
the toast, “and victory over all our enemies, and particu-
larly over Argyle! I hope to twitch another handful
from his beard myself.—I have had one pluck at it
already.”

“Very true,” answered Montrose; “but to return to
these men of the Mist. You understand, Dalgetty, that
their presence here, and the purpose for which we employ
them, is a secret between you and me?”

Delighted, as Montrose had anticipated, with thi, mark
of his General’s confidence, the Major laid his hand upon
his nose, and nodded intelligence.

“ How many may there be of Ranald’s followers ?”
continued the Marquis.

“They are reduced, so far as I know, to some eight or
ten men,” answered Major Dalgetty, “ and a few women
and children.”

“ Where are they now?” demanded Montrose.

“In a valley, at three miles’ distance,” answered the
soldier, “awaiting your Excellency’s command; I judged
it not fit to bring them to your leaguer without your

-Excellency’s orders.”

“ You judged very well,” said Montrose ; “it would
be proper that they remain where they are, or seek some
listant place of refuge. I will send them money, though
it is a scarce article with me at present.”

“Tt is quite unnecessary,” said Major Dalgetty ; “ your
Excellency has only to hint that the M‘Anlays are going

Vv(\U. XI. 13194 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

in that direction, and my friends of the Mist will instantly
make volte-face, and go to the right about.”

“That were scarce courteous,” said the Marquis
“ Better send them a few dollars to purchase them some
eattle for the support of the women and children.”

“They know how to come by their cattle at a far
cheaper rate,” said the Major; “but let it be as your
Iexcellency wills.”

“Let Ranald MacEKagh,” said Montrose, “select one
or two of his followers, men whom he can trust, and whe
are capable of keeping their own secret and ours: these,
with their chief for scout-master general, shall serve for
our guides, Let them be at my tent to-morrow at day-
break, and see, if possible, that they neither guess my
purpose, nor hold any communication with each other in
private —This old man, has he any children ?”

 

“They have been killed or hanged,” answered the
Major, “to the number of a round dozen, as I believe—
but he hath left one grandchild, a smart and hopeful youth,
whom I have noted to be never without a pebble in his
plaid-nook, to fling at whatsoever might come in his way ;

=

being a symbol, that, like David, who was accustomed to
sling smooth stones taken from the brook, he may after-
ards prove an adventurous warrior.”

“That boy, Major Dalgetty,” said the Marquis, “1
will have to attend upon my own person. I presume he
will have sense enough to kéep his name secret ?”

“Your Excellency need* not fear that,” answered
Dalgetty ; “these Highland imps, from the moment they
“hip the shell rs

 

“Well,” interrupted Montrose, “that boy shall be
pledge for the fidelity of his parent, and if he prove
faithfal, the child’s preferment shall be his reward.—AndA LEGEND OF MONTROSE. 195

now, Major Dalgetty, I will license your departure for
the night; to-morrow you will introduce this MacKagh,
under any name or character he may please to assume.
I presume his profession has rendered him sufficiently
expert in all sort of disguises; or we may admit John of
Moidart. into our schemes, who has sense, practicability,
ard intelligence, and will probably allow this man for a
time to be disguised as one of his followers. For you,
Major, my groom of the chambers will be your quarter-
master for this evening.”

Major Dalgetty took his leave with a joyful heart,
greatly elated with the reception he had met with, and
much pleased with the personal manners of his new
General, which, as he explained at great length to Ranald
MacEagh, reminded him in many respects of the demean-
our of the immortal Gustavus Adolphus, the Lion of the
North, and Bulwark of the Protestant Faith196 WAVERLEY NOVEL2.

CHAPTER XVII.

The march begins in military state,

And nations on his eyes suspended wait ;

Stern famine guards the solitary coast,

And winter barricades the realms of frost,

He comes,—nor want, nor cold, his course delay.

VANITY OF HUMAN WisuRs.

By break of day Montrose received in his cabin old
MacEagh, and questioned him long and particularly as to
the means of approaching the country of Argyle. He
made a note of his answers, which he compared with
those of two of his followers, whom’ he introduced. as the
most prudent and experienced. He found them to corre-
spond in all respects; but, still unsatisfied where precau-
tion was so necessary, the Marquis compared the infor-
mation he had received with that he was able to collect
from the Chiefs who lay most near to the destined scene
of invasion, and being in all respects satisfied of its accu-
racy, he resolved to proceed in full reliance upon it. |

In one point Montrose changed his mind. Having
judged it unfit to take the boy Kenneth into his own
service, lest, in case of his birth being discovered, it
should be resented as an offence by the numerots clans
who entertained a feudal enmity to this devoted family,
he requested the Major.to take him in attendance upon
himself; and as he accompanied this request with a

handsome douceur, under pretence of clothing andA LEGEND OF MONTROSE. 19%

equipping the lad, this change was agreeable to all
parties.

It was about breakfast-time, when Major Dalgetty,
being dismissed by Montrose, went in quest of his old
acquaintances, Lord Menteith and the M‘Aulays, to whom
he longed to communicate his own adventures, as well as
to learn from them the particulars of the campaign. It
may be imagined he was received with great glee by men
to whom the late uniformity of their military life had
rendered any change of society an interesting novelty.
Allan M‘Aulay alone seemed to recoil from his former
acquaintance, although, when challenged by his brother,
he could render no other reason than a reluctance to be
familiar with one who had been so lately in the company
of Argyle, and other enemies. Major Dalgetty was a
little alarmed by this sort of instinctive consciousness
which Allan seemed to entertain respecting the society
he had been lately keeping; he was soon satisfied, how-
ever, that the perceptions of the seer in this particular
were not infallible.

As Ranald MacEagh was to be placed under Majur
Dalgetty’s protection and superintendence, it was neces-
sary he should present him to those persons with whom
he was most likely to associate.. The dress of the old
man had, in the meantime, been changed from the tartan
xf his clan to a sort of clothing peculiar to the men of the
ilistant Isles, resembling a waistcoat with sleeves, and a
petticoat, all made in one piece. This dress was laced
from top to bottom in front, and bore some resemblance
to that called Polonaise, still worn by children in Scot-
‘and of the lower rank. ‘The tartan hose and bonnet
dress which old men of the last century

eompleted the
by the distant

remembere 1 well to have seen worn

- SSSi a

198 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

Islesmen who came to the Earl of Mar’s standard in the
year 17109.

Major Dalg2tty, keeping his eye on Allan as he spoke,
introduced Ranald MacEagh under the fictitious name
of Ranald MacGilliburon in Benbecula, who had escaped
with him out of Argyle’s prison. -He recommended him
as a person skilful in the arts of the harper and the
senachie, and by no means contemptible in the quality of
a second-sighted person, or seer. While making this
exposition, Major Dalgetty stammered and hesitated in a
way so unlike the usual glib forwardness of his manner,
that he could not have failed to have given suspicion te
Allan M‘Aulay, had not that person’s whole attention
been engaged in steadily perusing the features of the
person thus introduced to him. This steady gaze so
much embarrassed Ranald MacEagh, that his hand was
beginning to sink down towards his dagger, in expectation
of a hostile assault, when Allan, suddenly crossing the
floor of the hut, extended his hand to him in the way of
friendly greeting. They sat down side by side, and con-
versed in a low mysterious tone of voice. Menteith and
Angus M‘Aulay were not surprised at this, for there
prevailed among the Highlanders who pretended to the
second-sight a sort of freemasonry, which generally
induced them, upon meeting, to hold communication with
each other on the nature and extent of their visionary
experiences.

“Does the sight come gloomy upon your spirits?”
said Allan to his new acquaintance.

“As dark as the shadow upon the moon,” replied
Ranald, “when she is darkened in her midcourse in
heaven, and prophets foretell of evil times.”

“Come hither,” said Allan. “come more this way, IA LEGEND OF MONTROSE. 199

would converse with you apart; for men say that in your
distant islands the sight is poured forth with more clear-
ness and power than upon us, who dwell near the Sasse-
nach.”

While they were plunged into their mystic conference,
the two English cavaliers entered the cabin in the highest
possible spirits, and announced to Angus M‘Aulay that
orders had been issued that all should hold themselves in
readiness for an immediate march to the westward.
Having delivered themselves of their news with much
glee, they paid their compliments to their old acquain
tance Major Dalgetty, whom they instantly recognised,
and inquired after the health of his charger, Gustavus.

“T humbly thank you, gentlemen,” answered the sol-
dier, “ Gustavus is well, though, like his master, some-
what barer on the ribs than when you offered to relieve
me of him at Darnlinvarach; and let me assure you, that
before you have made one or two of those marches which
you seem to contemplate with so much satisfaction in
prospect, you will leave, my good knights, some of your
English beef, and probably an English horse or two,
behind you.”

Both exclaimed that they cared very little what they
found or what they left, provided the scene changed from
dogging up and down Angus and Aberdeenshire, in
pursuit of an enemy who would neither fight nor run
away.

“If such be the case,” said Angus M‘Aulay, “ I must
give orders to my followers, and make provision too for
the safe conveyance of Annot Lyle ; for an advance into
M‘Callum More’s country will be a farther and fouler
road than these pinks of Cumbrian knighthood are aware
xf." So saying, he left the cabin.Z00 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

“Annot Lyle!” repeated Dalgetty, “is she following
she eampaizn ?”

“ Surely,” replied Sir Giles Musgrave, his eye glancing
slightly-from Lord Menteith to Allan M‘Aulay ; “ we
eould neither march nor fight, advance nor retreat, with:
out the influence of the Princess of Harps.”

“The Princess of Broadswords and Targets, I say,
answered his companion ; “for the Lady of Montrose her-

*s

self could not be more courteously waited upon; she has
four Highland maidens, and as many bare-legged gillies
to wait upon her orders.”

“ And what would you have, gentlemen?” said Allan,
turning suddenly from the Highlander with whom he was
in conversation; “would you yourselves have left an
innocent female, the companion of your infancy, to die by
violence, or perish by famine? There is not, by this
time, a roof upon the habitation of my fathers—our crops
have been destroyed, and our cattle have been driven—
and you, gentlemen, have to bless God, that, coming from
a milder and more civilized country, you expose only
your own lives in this remorseless war, without appre:
hension that your enemies will visit with their vengeance
the defenceless pledges you may have left behind you.”

The Englishmen cordially agreed that they had the
superiority in this respect; and the company, now’ dis-
persing, went each to his several charge or occupation.

Allan lingered a moment behind, still questioning the
reluctant Ranald MacEagh upon a point in his supposed
visions, by which he was greatly perplexed. “ Repeat-
edly,” he said, “have I had the sight of a Gael, who
}eemed to plunge his weapon into the body of Menteith,
—of that young nobleman in the scarlet laced cloak, whe
has just now left the bothy. But by no effort, though JA LEGEND OF MONTROSE. 201

have gazed till my eyes were almost fixed in their sockets,
can I discover the face of this Highlander, or even con-

Jeeture who he may be, although his person and air seem
familiar to me.” *

.

* A species of apparition, similar to what the Germans call a Double-
Ganger, was believed in by the Celtic tribes, and is still considered as
nn emblem of misfortune or death. Mr. Kirke, (see note to Rob Roy,
vol. ii. p. 142,) the minister of Aberfoil, who will no doubt be able to
tell us more cf the matter should he ever come back from Fairy-land,
gives us the following :—

‘Some men of that exalted sight, either by art or nature, have told
me they have seen at these meetings a double ian, or the shape of
some man in two places, that is, a superterranean and a subterranean
inhabitant perfectly resembling one another in all points, whom he,
notwithstanding, could easily distinguish one from another by some
secret tokens and operations, and so go speak to the mun his neigh-
pour and familiar, passing by the apparition or resemblance of him.
They avouch that every element and different state of being have
animals resembling those of another element, as there be fishes at sea
resembling Monks of late order in all their hoods and dresses, so as the
Roman invention of good and bad demons and guardian angels par-
ticularly assigned, is called by them ane ignorant mistake, springing
only from this originall. They call this reflex man a Co-Walker,
every way like the man, as a twin-brother and companion haunting
him as his shadow, as is that seen and known among men resembling
the originall, both before and after the originall is dead, and was also
often seen of old to enter a hous, by which the people knew that the
person of that liknes was to visit them within a few days. This copy,
echo, or living picture, goes at last to his own herd. It accompanied
that person so long and_ frequently for ends best known to its selve,
whether to guard him from the secret assa ults of some of its own folks,
or only as an sportfull ape to counterfeit all his actions.’”’—K1irker’s
Secret Commonwealth, p. 3.

The two following apparitions, resembling the vision of Allan
M‘Aulay in the text, occur in Theophilus Insulanus, (Rev. Mr
Fraser’s Treatise on the Second Sight, Relations x. and xvii.)

“Barbara Macpherson, relict of the deceased Mr. Alexander Mae-
Leod, late minister of St. Kilda, informed me the natives of that island
had a particular kind of second sight, which is always a forerunner
yf their approaching end. Some months before they sicken, th3y2u2 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

“Have you reversed your own plaid,” said Ranald,
“according to the rule of the experienced Seer. i such
case ?”

“T have,” answered Allan, speaking low, and shudder-
ing as if with internal agony.

“ And in what guise dic the phantom then appear ‘te
you ?” said Ranald.

“With his plaid also reversed,’ answered Allan, in the
same low and convulsed tone.

“Then be assured,” said Ranald, “that your own hand,
and none other, will do the deed of which you have wit-
nessed the shadow.”

are haunted with an apparition, resembling taemselves in all respects
as to their person, features, or clothing. This image, seemingly
animated, walks with them in the field in broad daylight; and if they
are employed in delving, harrowing, seed-sowing, or any other occu-
pation, they are at the same time mimicked ty this ghostly visitant.
My informer added farther, that having visited a sick person of the
inhabitants, she had the curiosity to inquire of him, if at any time he
had seen any resemblance of himself as above described; he answered
in the affirmative, and told her, that to make farther trial, as he was
going out of his house of a morning, he put on straw-rope garters
instead of those he formerly used, and having gone to the fields, his
other self appeared in such garters. The conclusion was, the sick
man died of that ailment, and she no longer questioned the truth of
those remarkable presages.”’

“Margaret MacLeod, an honest woman advanced in years, informed
me, that when she was a young womay in the family of Grishornish, a
dairy maid, who daily used to herd the calves in a pars close to the
house, observed, at different times, a woman resembling herself in
shape and attire, walking solitarily at no great distance from her, and
Leing surprised at the apparition, to make further trial, she put the
pack part of her upper garment foremost, and anon the phantom was
dressed in the same manner, which made her uneasy, believing it
portended some fatal consequence to herself. In a short time there-
after she was seized with a fever, which brought her to her end, and
before her sickness and on her death-bed, declared the second sight te
everal.”A LESEND OF MONTROSE. 2603

“So has my anxious soul a hundred times surmised,”
replied Allan. “But it is impossible! Were I to read
the record in the eternal book of fate, 1 would declare it
impossible—we are bound by the ties of blood, and by
a hundred ties more intimate—we have stood side by
side in battle, and our swords have reeked with the blood

 

of the same enemies—it is ImPossIBLE I should harm
hina.”

“That you WILL do so,” answered Ranald, “is certain,
though the cause be hid in the darkness of futurity. You
say,’ he continued, suppressing his own emotions with
difficulty, “that side by side you have pursued your prey
like bloodhounds—have you never seen bloodhounds turn
their fangs against each other, and fight over the body of
a throttled deer ?”

“Tt is false!” said M*Aulay, starting up, “these are
not the forebodings of fate, but the temptation of some
evil spirit from the bottomless pit 1” So saying, he strode
out of the cabin.

“Thou hast it,” said the Son of the Mist, looking
after him with an air of exultation ; “the barbed arrow
is in thy side! Spirits of the slaughtered, rejoice } soon
shall your murderers’ swords be dyed in each other's

blood.”
On the succeeding morning all was prepared, and
Montrose advanced by rapid marches up the river Tay, |
his desultory forces into the romantic vale

and poured
he lake of the same name, which lies at the head

of that river. ‘The inhabitants were Campbells, not
adeed the vassals of Argyle, but of the allied and kin-
Ared house of Glenorchy, which now bears the name of
Breadalbane. Being taken by surprise, they were totally e
and were compelled to be |e

around t

qnprepared for resistance,i llliatines . aid me

lect
Sl ee:
er

en mae ec

204 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

passive witnesses of the ravages which took place among
their flocks and herds. Advancing in this manne1 to the
vale of Loch Dochart, and laying waste the country
around him, Montrose reached the most difficult point of
his enterprise. . |

Te a modern army, even with the assistance of the
good inilitary road which now leads up by Teinedrum te
the head of Loch Awe, the passage of these extensive
wilds would seem a task of some difficulty. But at this
period, and for long afterwards, there was no road cr
path whatsoever; and to add to the difficulty, the moun-
tains were already covered with snow. It was a sublime
scene to look up to them, piled in great masses, one upon
another, the front rank of dazzling whiteness, while those
which arose behind them caught a rosy tint from the
setting of a clefr wintry sun. Ben Cruachan, superior
in magnitude, and seeming the very citadel of the Genius
of the region, rose high above the others, shewing his
glimmering and scathed peak to the distance of many
miles.

The followers of Montrose were men not to be daunted
by the sublime yet terrible prospect before them. Many
of them were of that ancient race of Highlanders, whe
not only willingly made their couch in the snow, but con-
sidered it as effeminate luxury to use a snowball for a
pillow. Plunder and revenge lay beyond the frozen
mountains which they beheld, and they did not permit
themselves to be daunted by the difheulty of traversing
them. Montrose did not allow their spirits time to sub-
tide. He ordered the pipes to play in the van the
ancient pibrovh entitled, “Hoggil nam bo,” &ce., (that is,
We come through snow-drift to drive the prey ;) the
shrilling sounds of which had often struck the vales ofA LEGEND OF MONTROSE. 208

the Lennox with terror.* The troops advanced with the
nimble alacrity of mountaineers, and were soon involved
in the dangerous pass, through which Ranald acted as
their guide, going before them with a select party, to track
out the way.

The power of man at no time appears more contempt-
ible than when it is placed in contrast with scenes of
natural terror and dignity. The victorious army of Mon-
trose, whose exploits had struck terror into all Scotland,
when ascending up, this terrific pass, seemed a contempt-
ible handful of stragglers, in the act of being devoured
by the jaws of the mountain, which appeared ready to
elose upon them. Even Montrose half repented the hold-
ness of his attempt, as he looked down from the summit
of the first eminence which he attained, upon the scat-
tered condition of his small army. The difficulty of
getting forward was so great, that considerable gaps
began to occur in the line of march, and the distance
between the van, centre, and rear, was each moment
increased in a degree equally incommodious and danger-
ous. It was with great apprehension that Montrose
jooked upon every point of advantage which the hill
afforded, in dread it might be found occupied by an
enemy prepared for defence; and he often afterwards
was heard to express his conviction, that had the passes
of Strath-Fillan been defended by two hundred resolute
men, not only would his progress have been effectually
topped, but his army must have been in danger of being
totally cut off. Security, however, the bane of many a
strong country, and many a fortress, betrayed, on this

* It is the family march of the M Farlanes, a warlike and predatcry
alan, who inhabited the western banks of Loch Lomond _ Seg Nate ta

Waverley, vol. ii. p. 69.B06 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

occasion, the district of Argyle to his enemies. The
invaders had only to contend with the natural difficulties
of the path, and with the snow, which, fortunately, had
not fallen in any great quantity. The army no sooner
reached the summit of the ridge of hills dividing Argyle.
shire from the district of Breadalbane, than they rushed
down upon the devoted vales beneath them with a fury
sufficiently expressive of the motives which had dictated
a movement so difficult and hazardous.

Montrose divided his army into three bodies, in order
to produce a wider and more extensive terror, one of
which was commanaed by the captain of Clan Ranald,
one intrusted to the leading of Colkitto, and the third
remained under his own direction. He was thus enabled
to penetrate the country of Argyle at three different
points. Resistance there was none. The flight of. the
shepherds from the hills had first announced in the peo-
pled districts this formidable irruption, and wherever the
clansmen were summoned out, they were killed, disarmed,
and dispersed, by an enemy who had anticipated their
motions. Major Dalgetty, who had been sent forward
against Inverary with the few horse of the army that
were fit for service, managed his matters so well, that he
had very nearly surprised Argyle, as he expressed it,
enter pocula; and it was only a rapid flight by water
which saved that chief from death or captivity. But the
punishment which Argyle himself escaped fell heavily
upon his country and clan, and the ravages committed by
Montrose on that devoted land, although too consistent
with the genius of the country and times, have been re-
peatedly and justly quoted as a blot on his actions. and
character.

Argyle in the meantime had fled to Edinburgh, to layA LEGEND OF MONTROSE. 207

his complaints before the Convention of Estates. To
mvet the exigence of the moment, a considerable army
was raised under General: Baillie, a Presbyterian officer
of skill and fidelity, with whom was joined in command
the celebrated Sir John Urrie, a soldier of fortune like
Dalgetty, who had already changed sides twice during
the Civil War, and was destined to turn his coat a third
time before it was ended. Argyle also, burning with in-
dignation, proceeded to levy his own numerous forces, in
order to avenge himself of his feudal enemy. He estah-
lished his head-quarters at Dumbarton, where he was soon
joined by a considerable force, consisting chiefly of his
own clansmen and dependents. Being there joined by
Baillie and Urrie, with a very considerable army of reg-
ular forces, he prepared to march into Argyleshire, and
chastise the invader of his paternal territories.
But Montrose, while these two formidable armies were
forming a junction, had been recalled from that ravaged
country by the approach of a third, collected in the north
under the Earl of Seaforth, who, after some hesitation,
having embraced the side of the Covenanters, had now, :
with the assistance of the veteran garrison of Inverness, :
formed a considerable army, with which he threatened
Montrose from Inverness-shire. Enclosed in a wasted
and unfriendly country, and menaced on each side by ad-
vancing enemies of superior force, it might have been » |
supposed that Montrose’s destruction was certain. But
these were precisely the circumstances under which the
active and enterprising genius of the Great Marquis was

calculated to excite the wonder and admiration of his Eg
A |

friends, the astonishment and terror of his enemies. As
if by magic, he collected’ his scattered forces from the | g

wasteful occupation in which they had been engaged ; and208 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

scarce were they again united, ere Argyle and his asso-
ciate generals were informed, that the royalists, having
suddenly disappeared from Argyleshire, had retreated
northwards among the dusky and impenetrable mountains
of Lochaber.

The sagacity of the generals opposed to Montrose, im-
mediately conjectured that it was the purpose of their
active antagonist to fight with, and, if possible, to destroy
Seaforth, ere they could come to his assistance. This
occasioned a corresponding change in their operations.
Leaving this chieftain to make the best defence he could,
Urrie and Baillie again separated their forces from those
of Argyle; and, having chiefly horse and Lowland troops
under their command, they kept the southern side of the
Grampian ridge, moving along eastward into the county
of Angus, resolving from thence to proceed into Aber-
deenshire, in order to intercept Montrose, if he should
attempt to escape in that direction. |

Argyle, with his own levies and other troops, undertook
to follow Montrose’s march; so that, in case he should
come to action either with Seaforth, or with Baillie and
Urrie, he might be placed between two fires by this third
army, which, at a secure distance, was to hang upon his
rear.

For this purpose, Argyle once more moved towards
Inverary, having an opportunity, at every step, to deplore
the severities which the hostile clans had exercised on his
dependents and country. Whatever noble qualities the
Highlanders possessed, and they had many, clemency in
treating a hostile country was not of the number; but
even the ravages of hostile troops combined to swell the
sumber of Argyle’s followers. It is still a Highland
oreverb, He whose house is burnt must become a soldier ;A LEGEND OF MONTROSE. 209

and hundreds of the inhabitants of these unfortunate val-
leys had now no means of maintenance, save by exercising
upon others the severities they had themselves sustained,
and no future prospect of happiness, excepting in the
gratification of revenge. His bands were, therefore, aug-
mented by the very circumstances which had desolated
his country, and Argyle soon found himself at the head
of three thousand determined men, distinguished for ac-
tivity and courage, and commanded by gentlemen of his
own name, who yielded to none in those qualities. Under
himself, he conferred the principal command upon Sir
Duncan Campbell of Ardenvohr, and another Sir Duncan
Campbell of Auchenbreck,* an experienced and veteran
soldier, whom he had recalled from the wars of Ireland
for this purpose. The cold spirit of Argyle himself, how-
ever, clogged the military councils of his more intrepid
assistants; and it was resolved, notwithstanding their in-
sreased force, to observe the same plan of operations, and
to follow Montrose cautiously, in whatever direction he
should march, avoiding an engagement until an oppor-
tunity should occur of falling upon his rear, while he
should be engaged with another enemy in front.

* This last character is historical

or. xa. 14210 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

at | CHAPTER XVIIE.

Piobracht au Donuil-dhu,
Piobrachet au Donuil,
Piobrachet agus S’breittach
Feacht an Innerlochy.

j re The war-tune of Donald the Black,
Hl The war-tune of Black Donald,
The pipes and the banner
Are up in the rendezvous of Inverlechy.

 

J
7 Wea Tux military road connecting the chain of forts, as it is
ealled, and running in the general line of the present
\ Caledonian canal, has now completely opened the creat
® . e
4 glen, or chasm, extending almost across the whole island,

once doubtless filled by the sea, and still affording basins
for that long line of lakes, by means of which modern
art has united the German and Atlantic Oceans. The
paths or tracks by which the natives traversed this exten-
sive valley, were, in 1645-6, in the same situation as when
they awaked the strain of an Irish engineer officer, wht
had been employed in converting them into practicable
military roads, and whose eulogium begins, and for aught
[ know, ends as follows

“ Had you seen but these roads before they were made,
You would have held up your anus and bless’d General Wade.”

But, bad as the ordinary paths were, Montrose avoided
them. and led his army, like a herd of wild deer, fromA LEGEND OF MONTROSE. 21]

mountain to mountain, and from forest to forest, where
his enemies could learn nothing of his motions, while he
acquired the most perfect knowledge respecting theirs
from the friendly clans of Cameron and M‘Donnell, whose
mountainous districts he now traversed. Strict. orders
had been given that Argyle’s advance should be watched,
and that all intelligence respecting his motions should be
communicated instantly to the General himself.

It was a moonlight night, and Montrose, worn out by
the fatigues of the day, was laid down to sleep in a
miserable shieling. He had only slumbered two hours,
when some one touched his shoulder. He looked up,
and, by the stately form and deep voice, easily recog-
nised the Chief of the Camerons.

“T have news for you,” said that leader, “ which is
worth while to arise and listen to.”

“M‘Ilduy * can bring, no other,” said Montrose, ad-
“are they

 

dressing the Chief by his patronymic title
good or bad?”

« As you may take them,

“ Are they certain?” demanded Montrose.

“Yes,” answered M‘Ilduy, “or another messenger
should have brought them. Know that, tired with the
task imposed upon me of accompanying that unhappy
Dalgetty and his handful of horse, who detained me for
hours on the march at the pace of a crippled badger, I
made a stretch of four miles with six of my people in the
lirection of Inverlochy, and there met with Ian of Glen-
roy, who had been out for intelligence. Argyle is mov-
ing upon Inverlochy with three thousand chosen men,
sommanded by the flower of the sons of Diarmid.——These

> said the Chieftain.

* Mhich-Connel Dhu,—the descendant of Black DonaldOt? WAVERLEY NOVELS.

are my news—they are certain—it is for you to construe
their purport.”

“Their purport must be good,” answered Montrose,
readily and cheerfully; “the voice of M‘Ilduy is ever
pleasant in the ears of Montrose, and most pleasant when
it speaks of some brave enterprise at hand—What are
our musters ? ”

He then called for light, and easily ascertained that a
great part of his followers having, as usual, dispersed to
secure their booty, he had not with him above twelve or
fourteen hundred men.

“Not much above a third,” said Montrose, pausing,
“of Argyle’s force, and Highlanders opposed to High-
landers.— With the blessing of God upon the royal cause,
I would not hesitate were the odds but one to two.”

“Then: do not hesitate,’ said Cameron; “for when
your trumpets shall sound to attack M‘Callum More, not
aman of these glens will remain deaf to the summons.

=

 

Glengarry— Keppoch—I myself—would destroy with fire
and sword, the wretch who should 1emain behind under
any pretence whatsoever. ‘l’o-morrow, or the next day,
shall be a day of battle to all who bear the name of
M‘Donnell or Cameron, whatever-be the event.”

“Tt is gallantly said, my noble friend,” said Montrose,
grasping his hand, “and I were worse than a coward did
I not do justice to such followers, by entertaining the
most indubitable hopes of success. We will turn back on
this M‘Callum More, who follows us like a raven to
tlevour the relics of our army, should we meet braver
men who may be able to break its strength! Let the
Chiefs and leaders be called together as quickly as pos:
sible ; and you, who have brought us the first news of
his joyful event.—for such it shall be,— you, M‘IduyA LEGEND OF MONTROSE. 213

shall bring it to a joyful issue, by guiding us the best and
nearest road against our enemy.”

“That will I willingly do,” said M‘Ilduy ; “if I have
shewn you paths by which to retreat through these dusky
wilds, with far more-readiness will I teach you how te
advance against your foe.”

A general bustle now prevailed, and the leaders were
everywhere startled from the rude couches on which they
had sought temporary repose.

“TI never thought,” said Major Dalgetty, when sum-
moned up from a handful of rugged heather roots, “to
have parted from a bed as hard as a stable broom with
such bad will; but, indubitably, having but one man of
military experience in his army, his Exrellency the Mar-
quis may be vindicated in putting him upon hard duty.”

So saying, he repaired to the council, where, notwith-
standing his pfedantry, Montrose seemed always to listen
to him with considerable attention; partly because the
Major really possessed military knowledge and experience,
and often made suggestions which were found of advan-
tage, and partly because it relieved the General from the
necessity of deferring entirely to the opinion of the High-
land Chiefs, and gave him additional ground for disputing
it when it was not agreeable to his own. On the present
occasion, Dalgetty joyfully acquiesced in the proposal of
marching back and confronting Argyle, which he com-
pared to the valiant resolution of the great Gustavus,
who moved against the Duke of Bavaria, and enriched
his troops by the plunder of that fertile country, although
menaced from the northward by the large army which
Wallenstein had assembled in Bohemia.

The Chiefs of Glengarry, Keppoch, and Lochiel, whose
dans. equal in courage and military fame to any ip the214

 
 

WAVERLEY NOVELS.

Highlands, lay within the neighbourhood of the scene of -
action, despatched the fiery cross through their vassals,

to summon every one who could bear arms to meet the

King’s lieutenant, and to join the standards of their

respective Chiefs as they marched towards Inverlochy.

As the order was emphatically given, it was speedily and

willingly obeyed.

Their natural love of war, their zeal

for the royal cause,—for they viewed the King in the

light of a chief

 

whom his clansmen had deserted,—as

well as their implicit obedience to their own patriarch,

drew in to Montrose’s army not only all in the neigh-

bourhood who were able to bear arms, but some who, in

age at least, mig!
them. During
directed straight

it have been esteemed past the use of
the next day’s march, which, being
through the mountains of Lochaber, was

unsuspected by the enemy, his forces were augmented by

handfuls of men issuing from each glen, eand ranging

themselves under the banners of their respective. Chiefs.

This was a circumstance highly inspiriting to the rest of

the army, who, b

y the time they approached the enemy,

found their strength increased considerably more than

one-fourth, as had been prophesied by the valiant leader

of the Camerons.

While Montrose executed this counter-march, Argyle

had, at the head of his gallant army, advanced up the

southern side of

Loch-Eil, and reached the’river Lochy,

which combines that lake with Loch-Lochy. The ancient
Castle of Inverlochy, once, as it is said, a royal fortress,

and still, although dismantled, a place of some strength

and consideration, offered convenient head quarters, and

there was ample room for Argyle’s army to encamn
around him in’ the valley, where the Lochy joins Loch-

Kil. Several barges had attended, loaded with provisions,A LEGEND OF MONTROSE. 215

so that they were in every respect as well accommodated
as such an army wished or expected to be. Argyle, in
council with Auchenbreck and Ardenvohr, expressed his
full confidence that Montrose was now on the brink of
destruction ; that his troops must gradually diminish ag
he moved eastward through such uncouth paths; that if
he went westward, he must encounter Urrie and Baillie ;
if northward, fall into the hands of Seaforth; or should
he choose any halting place, he would expose himself to
be attacked by three armies at once.

“T cannot rejoice in the prospect, my lord,” said
Auchenbreck, “that James Grahame will be crushed
with little assistance of ours. He has left a heavy ac-
count in Argyleshire against him, and I long to reckon
with him drop of blood for drop of blood. I love not the
payments of such debts by third hands.”

“You are too scrupulous,” said Argyle ; “ what. signi-
fies it by whose hands the blood of the Grahames is spilt ?
It is time that of the sons of Diarmid should cease to flow.
—What say you, Ardenvohr ? ”

“J say, my lord,” replied Sir Duncan, “ that I think
Auchenbreck will be gratified, and will himself have a
personal opportunity of settling accounts with Montrose
for his depredations. Reports have reached our outposts
_ that the Camerons are assembling their full strength on
the skirts of Ben-Nevis ; this must be to join the advance
of Montrose, and not to cover his retreat.”

“Tt must be some scheme of harassing and depreda-
tion,” said Argyle, “devised by the inveterate malignity
of M‘Ilduy, which he terms loyalty. They can intend
no more than an attack on our outposts, or some annoy-
ance on to-morrow’s march.”

“J have sent out scouts,” said Sir Duncan, “ in every

2 sj eI 5216 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

direction to procure intelligence ; and we must soon hear
whether they really do assemble any force, upon what
point, or with what purpose.”

It was late ere any tidings were received ; but when
the moon had arisen, a considerable bustle in the camp,
and a noise immediately after heard in the castle, an-
nounced the arrival of important intelligence. Of the
scouts first dispersed by Ardenvohr, some had returned
without being able to collect any thing, save uncertain

“rumours concerning movements in the country of the

Camerons. It seemed as if the skirts of Ben-Nevis were
sending forth those unaccountable and portentous sounds
with which they sometimes announce the near approach
of a storm. Others, whose zeal carried them farther upon
their mission, were entrapped and slain, or made _pris-
oners, by the inhabitants of the fastnesses into which they
endeavoured to penetrate. At length, on the rapid ad-
rance of Montrose’s army, his advanced guard and the
outposts of Argyle became aware of each other’s presence,
and after exchanging a few musket-shots and arrows, fell
back to their respective main bodies, to convey intel-
ligence and receive orders.

Sir Duncan Campbell, and Auchenbreck, instantly
threw themselves on horseback, in order to visit the state
of the outposts; and Argyle maintained his character of
commander-in-chief with reputation, by making a respect-
able arrangement of his forces in the plain, as it was evi-
dent that they might now expect a night alarm, or an
attack in the morning at farthest. Montrose had kept
his forces so cautiously.within the defiles of the moun-
fain, that no effort which Auchenbreck or Ardenvohr
thought it prudent to attempt, could ascertain his prob-
able strength. They were aware, however, that, at theA LEGEND OF MONTROSE. 217

utmost computation, it must be inferior to their own, and
they returned to Argyle to inform him of the amount of
their observations ; but that nobleman refused to believe
that. Montrose could be in presence himself. He said,
“Tt was a madness, of which even James Grahame, in
his height of presumptuous frenzy, was incapable ; and
he doubted not that their march was only impeded by
their ancient enemies, Glenco, Keppoch, and Glengarry ;
and perhaps M‘Vourigh, with his M‘Phersons, might
have assembled a force, which he knew must be greatly
inferior in numbers to his own, and whom, therefore, he
doubted not to disperse by force, or by terms of capitu-
lation.”

The spirit of Argyle’s followers was high, breathing
vengeance for the disasters which their country had so
lately undergone ; and the night passed in anxious hopes
that the morning might dawn upon their vengeance. The
outposts of either army kept a careful watch, and the sol-
diers of Argyle slept in the order of battle which they
were next day to occupy.

A pale dawn had scarce begun to tinge the tops of
these immense mountains, when the leaders of both ar-
mies prepared for the business of the day. It was the
second of February, 1645-6. The clansmen of Argyle
were arranged in two lines, not far from the angle be-
tween the river and the lake, and made an appearance
equally resolute and formidable. Auchenbreck would
willingly have commenced the battle by an attack on the
outposts of the enemy, but Argyle, with more cautious
policy, preferred receiving to making the onset. Signals
were soon heard, that they would not long wait for it in
vain. The Campbells could distinguish, in the gorge of
the mountains, the war-tunes of various clans as they218 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

advanced to the onset. That of the Camerons, which
bears the ominous words, addressed to the wolves and
ravens, “Come to me, and I will give you flesh,” was
loudly re-echoed from their native glens. In the language
of the Highland bards, the war voice of Glengarry was
not silent; and the gathering tunes of other tribes could
be plainly distinguished, as they successively came up to
the extremity of the passes from which they were to de-
scend into the plain.

“ You see,” said Argyle to his kinsmen, “It is as I
said, we have only to deal with our neighbours ; James
Grahame has not ventured to show us his banner.”

At this moment there resounded from the gorge of the
pass a lively flourish of trumpets, in that note with which
it was the ancient Scottish fashion to salute the royal
standard.

“You may hear, my lord, from yonder signal,” said
Sir Duncan Campbell, “that he who pretends to be
the King’s Lieutenant, must be in person among these
men.”

‘‘ And has probably horse with him,” said Auchenbreck,
“which I could not have anticipated. But shall we look
pale for that, my lord, when we have foes to fight, and
wrongs to revenge ? ”

Argyle was silent, and looked upon his arm, which
hung in a sash, owing to a fall which he had sustained in
the preceding march.

“Jt is true,” interrupted Ardenvohr, eagerly ; “my
Lord of Argyle, you are disabled from using either sword:
or pistol; you must retire on board the galleys—your life
Is precious to us as a head—your hand cannot be useful
to us as 4 soldier.”

“No,” said Argyle, pride contending with irresoluA LEGEND OF MONTROSE. 213

tion, “it shall never be said that I fled before Montrose ;
if I cannot fight, I will at least die in the midst of my
children.”

Several other principal Chiefs of the Campbells, with
one voice, conjured and obtested their Chieftain to leave
them for that day to the leading of Ardenvohr and Auch-
enbreck, and to behold the conflict from a distance and
in safety.—We dare not stigmatize Argyle with poltroon-
ery; for, though his life was marked by no action of
bravery, yet he behaved with so much composure and
dignity in the final and closing scene, that his conduct
upon the present and similar occasions, should be rather
imputed to indecision than to want of courage. But when
the small still voice within a man’s own breast, which tells
him that his life is of consequence to himself, is seconded
by that of numbers around him, who assure him that it is
of equal advantage to the public, history affords many
examples of men more habitually daring than Argyle, who
have consulted self-preservation when the temptations to
it were so powerfully increased.

«See him on board if you will, Sir Duncan,” said
Auchenbreck to his kinsman; “ It must be my duty
to prevent this spirit from spreading farther among

99

us.

So saying, he threw himself among the ranks, entreat-
ing, commanding, and conjuring the soldiers, to remember
their ancient fame and their present superiority ; the
wrongs they had to revenge, if successful, and the tate
they had to dread, if vanguished ; and imparting to every
bosom a portion of the tire which glowed in his own.
Slowly, meanwhile, and apparently with reluctance, Ar-
gyle suffered himself to be forced by his officious kins-
maa to the verge of the lake, and was transported oa220 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

board of a galley, from the deck of which he surveyed
with more safety than credit the scene which ensued.

Sir Duncan Campbell of Ardenvohr, notwithstanding
‘he urgency of the occasion, stood with his eyes rivetted
on the boat which bore his Chieftain from the field of
battle. There were feelings in his bosom which could
not be expressed ; for the character of a Chief was that
of a father, and the heart of a clansman durst not dwell
upon his failings with critical severity, as upon those ot
other men. Argyle, too, harsh and severe to others, was
generous and liberal among his kinsmen, and the noble
heart of Ardenvohr was wrung with bitter anguish when
he reflected to what interpretation his present conduct
might subject him.

“Tt is better it should be so,” said he to himself, de-
vouring his own emotion; “ but

 

of his line of a hun-
dred sires, I know not one who would have retired while
the banner of Diarmid waved in the wind, in the face of
its most inveterate foes !”

A loud shout now compelled him to turn, and to hasten
with all despatch to his post, which was on the right flank
of Argyle’s little army.

The retreat of Argyle had not passed unobserved by
his watchful enemy, who, occupying the superior ground,
could mark every circumstance which passed below. The
movement of three or four horsemen to the rear shewed
that those who retreated were men of rank.

“They are going,” said Dalgetty, “to put their horses
out of danger, like prudent cavaliers. Yonder goes Sir
Duncan Campbell, riding a brown bay gelding, which I
had marked for my own second charger.”

“You are wrong, Major,” said Montrose, with a bitter
tile, “they are saving their precious Chief-—Give theA LEGEND OF MONTROSE.

sional for assault instantly—send the word through the
ranks,—Gentlemen, noble Chiefs, Glengarry, Keppoch,
M‘Vourigh, upon them instantly !—Ride to M‘Ilduy,
Major Dalgetty, and tell them to charge as he loves

Lochaber—return and bring our handful of horse to my
standard. They shall be placed with the Irish as a
reserve.”222 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

CHAPTER XIX.

As meets a rock a thousand waves, so Inisfail met Lochlin
OssIAN

Tae trumpets and bagpipes, those clamorous harbingers
of blood and death, at once united in the signal for onset,
which was replied to by the cry of more than two thou-
sand warriors, and the echoes of the mountain elens
behind them. Divided into three bodies or columns, the
Highland followers of Montrose poured from the defiles
which had hitherto concealed them from their enemies,
and rushed with the utmost determination upon the Camp-
bells, who waited their charge with the greatest firmness.
Behind these charging columns marched in line the Irish,
under Colkitto, intended to form the reserve. With them
was the voyal standard, and Montrose himself; and on
the flanks were about fifty horse, under Dalgetty, which
by wonderful exertions had been kept in some sort fit for
service.

The right column of Royalists was led by Glengarry,
the left by Lochiel, and the. centre by the Earl of Men-
teith, who preferred fighting on foot in a Highland dress
to remaining with the cavalry.

The Highlanders poured on with the proverbial fury
of their country, firing their guns, and discharging their
arrows, at a little distance from the enemy, who received
the assault with the most determined gallantry. BetterA LEGEND OF MONTROSE. 295

provided with musketry than their enemies, stationary
also, and therefore taking the more decisive aim, the fire
of Argyle’s followers was more destructive than that
which they sustained. The royal clans perceiving this,
rushed to close quarters, and succeeded on two points
in throwing their enemies into disorder. With recular
troops this must have achieved a victory 5 but here High-
landers were opposed to Highlanders, and the nature of
the weapons, as well as the agility of those who wielded
them, was equal on both sides.

Their strife was accordingly desperate ; and the clash
of the swords and axes, as they encountered each other,
or rung upon the targets, was mingled with the short,
wild, animating shrieks with which Highlanders accom-
pany the battle, the dance, or indeed violent exertion of
any kind. Many of the foes opposed were personally
acquainted, and sought to match themselves with each
other from motives of hatred, or a more generous emula-
tion of valour. Neither party would retreat an inch,
while the place of those who fell (and they fell fast on
both sides) was eagerly supplied by others, who thronged
to the front of danger. ‘A steam, like that which arises
from a seething cauldron, rose into the thin, cold, frosty
air, and hovered above the combatants.

So stood the fight on the right and the centre, with

no immediate consequence, except mutual wounds and

death.

On the right of the Campbells, the Knight of Arden-
rohr obtained some advantage, through his military skill
and by strength of numbers. He had mcved forward
obliquely the extreme flank of his line
about to close, so that they sustained a
ank, and, despite the utmost

at the instant the

Royalists were
Sre at once on front and in fl

- Sameeee

 

B24 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

efforts of their leader, were thrown into some confusion,
At this instant, Sir Duncan Campbell gave the word te
charge, and thus unexpectedly made the attack at the
very moment he seemed about to receive it. Such a
change of circumstances is always discouraging, and often
fatal. But the disorder was remedied by the advance ot
the Irish reserve, whose heavy and sustained fire com-
pelled the Knight of Ardenvohr to forego his advantage,
and content himself with repulsing the enemy. The
Marquis of Montrose, in the meanwhile, availing himself
of some scattered birch trees as well as of the smoke
produced by the close fire of the Irish musketry, which

concealed the operation, called upon Dalgetty to follow

him with the horse, and wheeling round so as to gain the
right flank and even the rear of the enemy, he commanded
his six trumpets to sound the charge. . The clang of the
cavalry trumpets, and the noise of the galloping of the
horse, produced an effect upon Argyle’s right wing which
no other sounds could have impressed them with. ‘The
mountaineers of that period had a superstitious dread of
the war-horse, like that entertained by the Peruvians,
and had many strange ideas respecting the manner in
which that animal was trained to‘combat. When there-
fore they found their ranks unexpectedly broken, and
that the objects of their greatest terror were suddenly in
the midst of them, the panic, in spite of Sir Duncan’s
attempts to stop it, became universal. Indeed, the figure
of Major Dalgetty alone, sheathed in impenetrable
armour, and making his horse caracole and bound, so as
to give weight to every blow which he struck, would have
been a novelty in itself sufficient to terrify those who had
never seen any thing more nearly resembling such a cay-
dlier, than a shelty waddling under a Highlander far biggerA LEGEND OF MONTROSE. 225

than itself. The repulsed Royalists returned to the charge ;
the Irish, keeping their ranks, maintained a fire equally
slose and destructive. There was no sustaining the fight
longer. Argyle’s followers began to break and fly, most
cowards the lake, the remainder in different directions.
The defeat of the right wing, of itself decisive, was
rendered irreparable by the death of Auchenbreck, who
fell while endeavouring to restore order.

The Knight of Ardenvohr, with two or three hundred
men, all gentlemen of descent and distinguished gallantry,
—for the Campbells are supposed to have had more gen
tlemen in their ranks than any of the Highland clans,—
endeavoured, with unavailing heroism, to cover the
tumultuary retreat of the common file. Their resolution
only proved fatal to themselves, as they were charged
again and again by fresh adversaries, and forced to sepa-
rate from each other, until at length their aim seemed only
to be to purchase an honourable death by resisting to the
very last.

“ Good quarter, Sir Duncan,” called out Major Dal-
getty, when he discovered his late host, with one or two
others, defending himself against several Highlanders 5
and, to enforce his offer, he rode up to him with his sword
uplifted. Sir Duncan’s reply was the discharge of a
reserved pistol, which took effect not on the person of the
rider, but on that of his gallant horse, which, shot through
the heart, fell dead under him. Ranald MacEagh, whe
was one of those who had been pressing Sir Duncan
hard, took the opportunity to cut him down with his
broadsword, as he turned from him in the act of firmg
uhe pistol.

Allan M‘Aulay came up at this moment. They were,
excepting Ranald, followers of his brother who were

VOL. XiIl 15D6 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

engaged on that part of the field. “ Villains!” he said,
“which of you has dared to do this, when it was my posi-
tive order that the Knight of Ardenvohr should be taken
alive ?”

Half-a-dozen of busy hands, which were emulously
employed in plundering the fallen knight, whose arms
and accoutrements were of a magnificence befitting his
quality, instantly forbore the occupation, and half the
number of voices exculpated themselves, by laying the
blame on the Skyeman, as they called Ranald MacKagh,

6 Dog of an Islander!” said Allan, forgetting, in his
wrath, their prophetic brotherhood, “follow the chase,
and harm him no farther, unless you mean to die by my
hand.” ‘They were at this moment left almost alone; for
Allan’s threats had forced his own elan from the spot, and
all around had pressed onwards towards the lake, carrying
before them noise, terror, and confusion, and leaving
behind only the dead and dying. The moment was
tempting to MacEagh’s vengeful spirit—*“That I should
die by your hand, red as it is with the blood of my kin-
dred,” said he, answering the threat of Allan in a tone as
menacing as his own, “is not more likely than that you
should fall by mine.” With that, he struck at M‘Aulay
with such unexpected readiness, that he had scarce time
to intercept the blow with his target.

“Villain!” said Allan, in astonishment, “what means
this ?”

“Tam Ranald of the Mist!” answered the Islesman.
repeating the blow; and with that word, they engaged in
elose and furious conflict. It seemed to be decreed, that
in Allan M‘Aulay had arisen the avenger of his mother’s
wrongs upon this wild tribe, as was proved by the issue
of the present, as well as of former combats. AfterA LEGEND OF MONTROSE. 27

exchanging a few blows, Ranald MacKagh was prostrated
by a deep wound on the skull; and M‘Aulay, setting his
foot on him, was about to pass the broadsword through
his body, when the point of the weapon was struck up by
a third party, who suddenly interposed. This was no
other than Major Dalgetty, who, stunned by the fall, and
encumbered by the dead body of his horse, had now
recovered his legs and his understanding. “ Hold up
your sword,” said he to M‘Aulay, “and prejudice this
person no farther, in respect that he is here in my safe-
conduct, and in his Excellency’s service; and in regard
that no honourable cavalier is at liberty, by the law
martial, to avenge his own private injuries, flagrante
bello, multo majus flagrante prelio.”

“Fool!” said Allan, “stand aside, and dare not to
come between the tiger and his prey !”

But, far from quitting his point, Dalgetty stept
across the fallen body of MacEagh, and gave Allan to
understand, that if he called himself a tiger, he was
likely, at present, to find a lion in his path. There
required no more than the gesture and tone of defiance
to turn the whole rage of the military seer against the
person who was opposing the course of his vengeance,
and blows were instantly exchanged without farther
ceremony.

The strife betwixt Allan and MacEagh had been un-
noticed by the stragglers around, for the person of the
latter was known to few of Montrose’s followers ; but
the scuffle betwixt Dalgetty and him, both so well known,
attracted instant attention; and fortunately, among others,
‘hat of Montrose himself, who had come for the purpose
all body of horse, and follow

of gatheringtogether his sm
Aware of the fatal con

wg the pursuit down Loch-Eil.228 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

sequences of dissension in his little army, he pushed his
horse up to the spot, and seeing MacEagh on the ground,
and .Dalgetty in the attitude of protecting him against
M‘Aulay, his quick apprehension instantly caught the
cause of quarrel, and as instantly devised means to stop
it. “ For shame,” he said, “gentlemen cavaliers, brawl-
ing together in so glorious a field of victory! Are you
mad? Or are you intoxicated with the glory which you
wave both this day gained ?”

“It is not my fault, so please your Excellency,” said
Dalgetty. “I have been known a bonus socius, a bon
camarado, in all the services of Europe; but he that
touches a man under my safeguard——”

“ And he,” said Allan, speaking at the same time,
“who dares to bar the course of my just vengeance——”

“For shame, gentlemen !” again repeated Montrose ;
“T have other business for you both,—business of deeper
Importance than any private quarrel, which you may
easily find a more fitting time to settle. For you, Major
Dalgetty, kneel down.”

“Kneel!” said Dalgetty; “I have not learned to
obey that word of command, saving when it is given from
the pulpit. In the Swedish discipline, the front rank do
indeed kneel, but only when. the regiment is drawn up
ux file deep.”

“ Nevertheless,” repeated Montrose,—“ kneel down in
the name of King Chagles and of his representative.”

When Dalgetty reluctantly obeyed, Montrose struck
Lim lightly on the neck with the flat of his sword, saying,
— “In reward of the gallant service of this day, and in
‘he name and authority of our Sovereign, King Charles,
I dub thee knight; be brave, loyal, and fortunate. And
1ow, Sir Dugald Dalgetty, to your duty. Collect whatA IEGEND OF MONTROSE. 299

horsemen you can, and pursue such of the enemy as are
flying down the side of the lake. Do not disperse your
force, nor venture too far; but take heed to prevent their
rallying, which very little exertion may do. Mount, then,
Sir Dugald, and do your duty.”

“ But what shall I mount?” said the new-made chey-
alier. ‘“ Poor Gustavus sleeps in the bed of honour, like
his immortal namesake! and I am made a knight, a
rider,* as the High Dutch have it, just when I have not
a horse left to ride upon.”

“ That shall not be said,” answered Montrose, dismount-
ing; “I make you a present of my own, which has been
thought a good one; only, I pray you, resume the duty
you discharge so well.”

With many acknowledgments, Sir Dugald mounted the
steed so liberally bestowed upon him; and only beseech-
ing his Excellency to remember that MacEagh was under ea
his safe-conduct, immediately began to execute the orders g
assigned to him, with great zeal and alacrity.

«“ And you, Allan M‘Aulay,” said Montrose, addressing
the Highlander, who, leaning his sword-point on the ‘
ground, had regarded the ceremony of his antagonist’s
knighthood with a sneer of sullen scorn,— you, who are
superior to the ordinary men led by the paltry motives
of plunder, and pay, and personal distinction,—you,
whose deep knowledge renders you so valuable a coun- t
sellor,—is it you whom I find striving with a man like
Dalgetty, for the privilege of trampling the remains of
life out of so contemptible an enemy as lies there?

Come, my friend, I have other work for you. This
nctory, skilfully improved, shall win Seaforth to our

* In German, as in Latin, the original meaning of the word Ritter

sorresponding to Eques, is merely a horseman.Zat WAVERLEY NOVELS.

party. It is not disloyalty, but despair of the good cause,
that has induced him to take arms against us. These
arms, in this moment of better augury, he may be brought
to unite with ours. I shall send my gallant friend, Cclo-
nel. Hay, to him, from this very field of battle; but he
must be united in commission with a Highland gentleman
of rank, befitting that of Seaforth, and of talents and of
influence such as may make an impression upon him,
You are not only in every respect the fittest for this most
important mission, but, having no immediate command,
your presence may be more easily spared than that of a
Chief whose following is in the field. You know every
pass and glen in the Highlands, as well as the manners
and customs of every tribe. Go therefore to Hay, on the
right wing; he has instructions, and expects you. You
will find him with Glenmorrison’s men ; be his guide, his
interpreter, and his colleague.”

Allan M‘Aulay bent on the Marquis a dark and pene-
trating glance, as if to ascertain whether this sudden
mission was not conferred for some latent and unex-
plamed purpose. But Montrose, skilful in searching the
motives of others, was an equal adept in concealing his
own. He considered it as of the last consequence, in
this moment of enthusiasm and exalted passion, to remove
Allan from the camp for a few days, that he might pro-
vide, as his honour required, for the safety of those who
had acted as his guides, when he trusted the Seer’s quar-
rel with Dalgetty might be easily made up. Allan, at
parting, only recommended to the Marquis the care of
Sir Duncan Campbell, whom Montrose instantly directed
v0 be conveyed to a place of safety. He took the same
precaution for MacEKagh, committing the latter, however,
lo a party of the Irish, with directions that he should: beA LEGEND OF MONTROSE 23)

laken care of, but that no Highlander, of any clan, should
pave access to him.

The Marquis then mounted a led horse, which was held
by one of his attendants, and rode on to view the scene
of his victory, which was more decisive than even his
ardent hopes had anticipated. Of Argyle’s gallant army
of three thousand men, fully one-half fell in the battle,
or in the flight. They had been chiefly driven back upon
that part of the plain where the river forms an angle
with the lake, so that there was no free opening either for
retreat or escape. Several hundreds were forced into
the lake and drowned. Of the survivors, about one-half
escaped by swimming the river, or by an early flight
along the left bank of the lake. The remainder threw
themselves into the old castle of Inverlochy ;’ but being
without either provisions or hopes of relief, they were
obliged to surrender, on condition of being suffered to
return to their homes in peace. Arms, ammunition,
standards, and baggage, all became the prey of the con-
querors.

This was the greatest disaster that ever befell the race
of Diarmid, as the Campbells were called in the High-
lands; it being generally remarked that. they were as
fortunate in the issue of their undertakings, as they were
sagacious in planning, and courageous in executing them.
Of the number slain, nearly five hundred were dunni-
wassels, or gentlemen claiming descent from known and
respevted houses. And, in the opinion of many of the
clan, even this heavy loss was exceeded by the disgrace
arising from the inglorious conduct of their Chief, whose
galley weighed anchor when the day was lost, and sailed
jown the lake with all the speed to which sails and oarg

‘ould im pel her.maaan: ra ne 2 ey,

WAVERLEY NOVELS

CHAPTER XX.

Faint the din of battle bray’d,
Distant down the hollow wind;
War and terror fled before,
Wounds and death remain’d behind.
PENROSE.

MontTROse’s splendid success over his powerful rival
was not attained without some loss, though not amounting
to the tenth of what he inflicted. The obstinate valour
of the Campbells cost the lives of many brave men of the
opposite party ; and more were wounded, the chief of
whom was the brave young Earl of Menteith, who had
commanded the centre. He was but slightly touched,
however, and made rather a graceful than a terrible ap-
pearance when he presented to his general the standard
of Argyle, which he had taken from the standard-bearer
with his own hand, and slain him in single combat.
Montrose dearly loved his noble kinsman, in whom there
was conspicuous a flash of the generous, romantic, dis-
interested chivalry of the old. heroic times, entirely differ-
ent from the sordid, calculating, and selfish character,
which the practice of entertaining mercenary troops had
introduced into most parts of Europe, and of which de-
generacy Scotland, which furnished-soldiers of fortune for
the service of almost every nation, had been contaminated
vith a more than usual share. “Montrose, whose native
spirit was congenial, although experience had taught him
how to avail himself of the motives of others, used :teA LEGEND OF MONTROSE. 233

Menteith neither the language of praise nor of promise,
but clasped him to his bosom as he exclaimed, “ My gal-
lant kinsman!” And by this burst of heartfelt applause
was Menteith thrilled with a warmer glow of delight, than
if his praises had been recorded in a report of the action
sent directly to the throne of his sovereign.

“ Nothing,” he said, “my lord, now seems to remain
in which I can render any assistance; permit me to look
after a duty of humanity—the Knight of Ardenvohr, as I
am told, is our prisoner, and severely wounded.”

“ And well he deserves to be so,” said Sir Dugald
Dalgetty, who came up to them at that moment, with a
prodigious addition of acquired importance, “ since he shot
my good horse at the time that I was offering him hon-
ourable quarter, which, I must needs say, was done more
like an ignorant Highland cateran, who has not sense
enough to erect a sconce for the protection of his old
ue of a castle, than like a soldier of worth and
quality.”

« Are we to condole with you, then,” said Lord Men-
teith, “upon the loss of the famed Gustavus: ce

« Even so, my lord,” answered the soldier, with a deep
sigh, “ Diem clausit supremum, as we said at the Mares-
chal College of Aberdeen. Better so than be smothered
like a cadger’s pony in some flow-moss, or snow wre eath,
which was like to be his fate if this winter campaign
lasted longer. But it has pleased his Excellency ” (mak-
ing an inclination to Montrose) “ to supply his place by

the gift of a noble steed, whom I have taken the freedom
to name ‘ Loyalty’s Reward, in memory of this celebrated

yecasion.”’
“ I hope,” said the Mar quis, “ you'll find Loyalty’s Re-

ward, since you call him so, practised in all the luties of thesets Ted

———

 

B34 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

field—but I must just hint to you, that at this time, in
Scotland, loyalty is more frequently rewarded with a
halter than with a horse.”

“Ahem! your Excellency is pleased to be facetious.
Loyalty’s Reward is as perfect as Gustavus in all his
exercises, and of a far finer figure. Marry! his social
qualities are less cultivated, in respect he has kept till
now inferior company.”

“ Not meaning his Excellency the General, I hope,”
said Lord Menteith. “For shame, Sir Dugald!”

“* My lord,” answered the, knight, gravely, “I am in-
capable to mean any thing so utterly misbecoming. What
I asseverate is, that his Excellency, having the same inter-
course with his horse during his exercise, that he hath
with his soldiers when training them, may form and break
either to every feat of war which he chooses to practise,
and accordingly that this noble charger is admirably man-
aged. But as it is the intercourse of private life that
formeth the social character, so I do not apprehend that
of the single soldier to be much polished by the conversa-
tion of the corporal or the sergeant, or that of Loyalty’s
Reward to have been much dulcified, or ameliorated, by
the society of his Excellency’s grooms, who bestow more
oaths, and kicks, and thumps, than kindness or caresses,
upon the animals intrusted to their charge ; whereby
many a generous quadruped, rendered as it were misan-
thropic, manifests during the rest of his life a greater
desire to kick and bite his master, than to love and ta
honour him.”

“ Spoken like an oracle,” said Montrose. “Were there
an academy for-the education of horses to be annexed ta
the Mareschal College of Aberdeen, Sir Dugald Dalgetty
alow> should fill the chair.”A LEGEND OF MONTROSE. Mealy

“ Because, being an ass,”

said Menteith, aside to the
General, “there would be some distant relation between
the professor and the students.”

“And now, with your Excellency’s permission,” said
the new-made Knight, “I am going to pay my last visit
to the remains of my old companion in arms.”

“ Not with the purpose of going through the ceremonia]
of interment ?” said the Marquis, who did not know how
far Sir Dugald’s enthusiasm might lead him; “ consider,
pur brave fellows themselves will have but a hasty
burial.”

“Your Excellency will pardon me,” said Dalgetty
“my purpose is less romantic. I go to divide poor Gus-
tavus’s legacy with the fowls of heaven, leaving the flesh
to them, and reserving to myself his hide ; which, in token
of affectionate remembrance, I purpose to form imto a
eassock and trousers, after the Tartar fashion, to be worn
under my armour, in respect my nether garments are at
present shamefully the worseé of the wear.—Alas ! poor
Gustavus, why didst thou not live at least one hour more,
to have borne the honoured weight of knighthood upon
thy loins!”

He was now turning away, when the Marquis called
after him,—“ As you are not likely to be anticipated in
this act of kindness, Sir Dugald, to your old friend and
companion, I trust,” said the Marquis, “you will first
assist me, and our principal friends, to discuss some of
Argyle’s good cheer, of which we have found abundance
in the castle.”

«Most willingly, please your Excellency,” said Sir
Dugald; “as meat and mass never hinder work. Nor,
indeed, am I afraid that the wolves or eagles will begin
an onslaught on Gustavus to-night, in regard there 18 8¢236 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

much better cheer lying all around. But,” added he, “as
i am to meet two honourable knights of England, with
others of the knightl; degree in your lerdship’s army, I
pray it may be explained to them, that now, and in future,
I claim precedence over them all, in respect of my rank
as a banneret, dubbed in a field of stricken battle.”

“The devil confound him!” said Montrose, speaking
aside ; “he has contrived to set the kiln on fire as fast as
I put it out. This is a point, Sir Dugald,” said he, gravely
addressing him, “which I shall reserve for his Majesty’s
express consideration; in my camp, all must be upon
equality, like the Knights of the Round Table; and take
their places as soldiers should, upon the principle of,—
first come, first served.”

“Then I shall take care,” said- Menteith apart to the
Marquis, “that Don Dugald is not first in place to-day.—
Sir Dugald,” added he, raising his voice, “as you say
your wardrobe is out of repair, had you not better go to
the enemy’s baggage yonder, over which there is a guard
placed? I saw them take out an excellent buff suit,
embroidered in front in silk and silver.”

“ Veto a Dios! as the Spaniard says,” exclaimed the
Major, ‘and some beggarly gilly may get it while I stand
prating here!”

The prospect of booty having at once driven out of his
head both Gustavus and the provant, he set spurs to
Loyalty’s Reward, and rode off through the field of battle.

“There goes the hound,” said Menteith, “breaking the
face, and trampling on the body, of many a better man
than himself; and as eager on his sordid spoil:as a vul-
tare that stoops upon carrion. -Yet this man the world
talls a soldier—and you, my lord, select him as worthy

‘yf the honours of chivalry, if such they can at this day
N

\

\

sA LEGEND OF MONTROSE. 237

termed. You have made the collar of knigh hood the
decoration of a mere bloodhound.”

“ What could I do?” said Montrose. “I hid no half-
picked bones to give him, and bribed in some manner he
must be,— I cannot follow the chase alone. Besides, the
dog has good qualities.”

“Tf nature has given him such,” said Menteith, “ habit
has converted them into feelings of intense selfishness.
He may be punctilious concerning his reputation, and
brave in the execution oi his duty, but it is only because
without these qualities he cannot rise in the service ;—
nay, his very benevolence is selfish; he may defend his
companion while he can keep his feet, but the instant he
is down, Sir Dugald will be as ready to ease him of his
purse, as he is to convert the skin of Gustavus into a buff
jerkin.”

“ And- yet, if all this were true, cousin,” answered
Montrose, “there is something convenient in commanding
a soldier, upon whose motives and springs of action you
van calculate to a mathematical certainty. A fine spirit
like yours, my cousin, alive to a thousand sensations to
which this man’s is as impervious as his corselet,—it is
for such that thy friend must feel, while he gives his
advice.’ Then, suddenly changing his tone, he asked
Menteith when he had seen Annot Lyle.

The young Earl coloured deeply, and answered, “ Not
since last evening,—excepting,” he added, with hesitation.

“for one moment, about half an hour before the battle
began.”

“My dear Menteith,” said Montrese, very kindly,
“were you one of the gay cavaliers cf Whitehall, whe
are, in their way, as great self-seekers as our friend Dal-

getty, should I need to plague you with inquiring inte

LETT,wees ‘

 

238 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

such an amourette as this? it would be an intrigue only
to be laughed at. But this is the land of enchantment,
where nets strong as steel are wrought out of ladies’
tresses, and you are exactly the destined knight to be so
fettered. This poor girl is exquisitely beautiful, and has
talents formed to captivate your romantic temper. You
cannot think of injuring her—you cannot think of mar-
rying her?”

“My lord,” replied Menteith, “you have repeatedly
urged this jest, for so I trust it is meant, somewhat beyond
bounds. Annot Lyle is of unknown birth, —a captive,—
the daughter, probably, of some obscure outlaw ; a depen-
dent on the hospitality of the M‘Aulays.”

“Do not be angry, Menteith,” said the Marquis, inter-
rupting him; “you love the classics, though not educated
at Mareschal College ; and you may remember how many
gallant hearts captive’ beauty has subdued :—

Movit Ajacem, Télamone natum,
Forma captive dominum Tecmesse.

In a word, I am seriously anxious about this—I should
not have time, perhaps,” he added very gravely, “te
trouble you with my lectures on the subject, were your
feelings, and those of Annot, alone interested; but you
have a dangerous rival in Allan M‘Aulay; and there is
no knowing to what extent he may carry his resentment.
It is my duty to tell you that the King’s service may be
much prejudiced by dissensions betwixt you”

“My lord,” said Menteith, “I know what you mean is
kind and friendly; I hope you will be satisfied when I
assure you, that Allan M‘Aulay and I have discussed this
circumstance; and that I have explained to him, that as
is utterly remote from my character to entertain dis-A LEGEND OF MONTROSE. 234

honourable views concerning this unprotected female , SO,
on the other hand, the obscurity of her birth prevents my
thinking of her upon other terms. I will not disguise
from your lordship, what I have not disguised from
M*‘Aulay,—that if Annot Lyle were born a lady, she
should share my name and rank; as matters stand, it is
impossible. This explanation, I trust, will satisfy your
Iordship, as it has satisfied a less reasonable person.”

Montrose shrugged his shoulders. ‘“ And, like true
champions in romance,” he said, “ you have agreed, that
you are both to worship the same mistress, as idolaters
do the same image, and that neither shall extend his
pretensions farther?”

“TY did not go so far, my lord,’ answered Menteith—
“TY only said in the present circumstances,—and there is
no prospect of their being changed,—I could, in duty to
myself and family, stand in no relation to Annot Lyle, but
as that of friend or brother—But your lordship must
excuse me; I have,” said he, looking at his arm, round
which he had tied his handkerchief, “a slight hurt to
attend to.” :

“A wound?” said Montrose, anxiously; “let me see
it—Alas!” he said, “I should have heard nothing of
this, had I not ventured to tent and sound another more
secret and more rankling one. Menteith, I am sorry for
But what avails it to awake

 

you—i too have known
sorrows which have long slumbered !”

So saying, he shook hands with his noble kinsman, and
walked into the castle.

Annot Lyle, as was not unusual for females in the
Highlands, was possessed of a slight degree of medical
gnd even surgical skill. It may readily be believed, that
he profession of surgery, or medicine, as a separate art240 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

was unknown; and the few rude rules which they ob-
served were intrusted to women, or to the aged, whom .
constant casualties afforded too much opportunity of
acquiring experience. ‘The care and attention, accord-
ingly, of Annot Lyle, her attendants, and others acting
under her direction, had made her services extremely useful
during this wild campaign. And most readily had these
services been rendered to friend and foe, wherever they
could be most useful. She was now in an apartment of
the castle, anxiously superintending the preparation of
vulnerary herbs, to be applied to the wounded; receiving
reports from different females respecting those under
their separate charge, and distributing what means she
had for their relief, when Allan M‘Aulay suddenly en-
tered the apartment. She started, for she had heard that
he had left the camp upon a distant mission; and, how-
ever accustomed she was to the gloom of his countenance,
it seemed at present to have even a darker shade than
usual. He stood before her perfectly silent, and she felt
the necessity of being the first to speak.

“T thought,” she said, with some effort, “you had
already Set out.”

“ My companion awaits me,” said Allan; “I go in-
stantly.”

Yet still he stood before her, and held her by the arm,
with a pressure which, though insufficient to give her
pain, made her sensible of his great personal strength, his
hand closing on her like the gripe of a manacle.

“Shall I take the harp?” she said, in a timid voice;
is—is the shadow falling upon you?”

Instead of replying, he led her to the window of the
apartment, which commanded a view of the field of the
slain, with all its horrors. It was thick spread with deadA LEGEND OF MONTROSE. 241

and wounded, ard the spoilers were busy tearing the
elothes from the victims of war and feudal ambition, with
as much indifference as if they had not been of the same
species, and themselves exposed, perhaps to-morrow, to
the same fate.

“ Does the sight please you?” said M‘Aulay.

“It is hideous!” said Annot, covering her eyes with
her hands; “how can you bid me look upon it?”

“You must be inured to it,” said he, “if you remain
with this destined host—you will soon have to search such
a field for my brotber’s corpse—for Menteith’s—for mine
—but that will be a more indifferent task—you do not
love me !”

“ This is the first time you have taxed me with unkind-
ness,” said Annot, weeping. “ You are my brother—my
my protector—and can I then but love you?

 

preserver
—But your hour of darkness is approaching, let me fetch

 

my harp

“ Remain,” said Allan, still holding her fast; “be my
visions from heaven or hell, or from the middle sphere of
disembodied spirits—or be they, as the Saxons hold, but
the delusions of an-over-heated fancy, they do not now
influence me; I speak the language of the natural, of the
visible world.—You love not me, Annot—you love Men-
teith—by him you are beloved again, and Allan is no
more to you than one of the corpses which encumber
yonder heath.”

It cannot be supposed that this strange speech con-
veyed any new information to her who was thus ad-
dressed. No woman ever lived who could not, in the
same circumstances, have discerned long since the state
of her lover’s mind. But by thus suddenly tearing off
the veil, thin as it was, Allan prepared her to expect con-
yOL. XII. 16842 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

sequences violent in proportion to the enthusiasm of his
character. She made an effort to repel the charge he
had stated.

“ You forget,” she said, “your own worth and noble.
ness when you insult so very helpless a being, and one
whom fate has thrown so totally into your power. You
know who and what I am, and how impossible it is that
Menteith or you can use language of affection to me,
beyond that of friendship. You know from what un-
happy race I have too probably derived my existence.”

“JT will not believe it,” said Allan, impetuously ;
“never flowed crystal drop from a polluted spring.”

“Yet the very doubt,’ pleaded Annot, “should make
you forbear to use this language to me.”

“T know,” said M‘Aulay, “it places a bar between us
—but I know also that it divides you not so inseparably
from Menteith—Hear me, my beloved Annot !—leave

 

this scene of terrors and danger—go with me to Kintail
—I will place you in the house of the noble lady of Sea-
forth—or you shall be removed in safety to Icolmkill,
where some women yet devote themselves to the worship
of God, after the custom of our ancestors.”

“You consider not what you ask of me,” replied An-
not; “to undertake such a journey under your sole
guardianship, were to shew me less scrupulous than
maiden ought. I will remain here, Allan—here under
the protection of the noble Montrose ; and when his mo-
tions next approach the Lowlands, I will contrive some
proper means to relieve you of one, who has, she knows
not how, become an object of dislike to you.”

Allan stood as if uncertain whether to give way toe

sympathy with her distress, or to anger at her resistance,

“ Annot.” he said,.“ you know too well how little yourA LEGEND OF MOWTROSE.

words apply to my teelings towards you—but you avail
yourself of your power, and you rejoice in my departure,
aS removing a spy upon your intercourse with Menteith.
But beware both of you,” he added in a stern tone; “ for
when was it ever heard that an injury was offered to
Allan M‘Aulay, for which he exacted not tenfold ven:
peance ? ”

So saying, he pressed her arm forcibly, pulled the
bennet over his brows, and strode out cf the apartment244 WAVERLEY NOVELS

CHAPTER XXI.

 

Aiter you’re gone,

I grew acquainted with my heart, and search'd

What stirr’d it so.—Alas ! I found if love,

Yet far from lust, for could I but have lived

In presence of you, I had had my end.

PHILASTER.
Annot LyLeE had now to contemplate the terrible

gulf which Allan M‘Aulay’s declaration of love and jeal-
ousy had made to open around her. It seemed as if she
was tottering on the very brink of destruction, and was
at once deprived of every refuge, and of all human assist-
ance. She had long been conscious that she loved Men-
teith dearer than a brother; indeed, how could it be
otherwise, considering their early intimacy,

 

the persoral
merit of the young nobleman,—his assiduous attentions,
—and his infinite superiority in gentleness of disposition,
and grace of manners, over the race of rude wetriors
with whom she lived? But her affection was of that
quiet, timid, meditative character, which sought rather a
reflected share in the happiness of the beloved object,
than formed more presumptuous or daring hopes. A
little Gaelic song, in which she expressed her feelings,
has .been translated by the ingenious and unbappy An-
drew M‘Donald ; and we willingly transcribe the lines :—
Wert thou, like me, in life’s low vale,
With thee how blest, that lot I’d share

With thee I’d fly wherever gale
Could waft, er bounding galley bear.A LEGENY OF MONTROSE. 245

But parted by severe decree,

Far different must our fortunes prove;
May thine be joy—enough for me

To weep ana pray for him I love.

The pangs this foolish heart must feel,
When hope shall be forever flown,
No sullen murmur shall reveal,
No selfish murmurs ever own.
Nor will I through life’s weary years,
Like a pale drooping mourner move,
While I'can think my secret tears
May- wound the heart of him I love.

The furious declaration of Allan had destroyed the
romantic plan which she had formed, of nursing in secret
her pensive tenderness, without seeking any other requi-
‘tal. Long before this, she had dreaded Allan, as much
as gratitude, and a sense that he softened towards hera
temper so haughty and so violent, could permit her: to
do; but now she regarded him with unalloyed terror,
which a perfect knowledge of his disposition, and of his
preceding history, too well authorized her to entertain.
Whatever was in other respects the nobleness of his dis-
position, he had never been known to resist the wilfulness
of passion,—he walked in the house, and in the country
of his fathers, like a tamed lion, whom no one dared to
contradict, lest they should awaken his natural vehemence
of passion. So many years had elapsed since he had
experienced contradiction, or even expostulation, that
probably nothing but the strong good sense, which on all
points, his mysticism excepted, formed the ground of his
character, prevented his proving an annoyance and terror
to the whole neighbourhood. But Annot had not time
to dwell upon her fears, being interrupted by the entrance
of Sir Dugald Dalgetty.—
an IROR ENE MRP

dAG WAVERLEY NOVELS.

%

It may well be supposed, that the scenes in which
this person had passed his former life had not much
qualified him to shine in female society. He himself felt
a sort of consciousness that the language of the barrack,
guard-room, and parade, was not proper to entertain
ladies. The only peaceful part of his life had been spent
at Mareschal College, Aberdeen; and he had forgot the
little he had learned there, except the arts of darning his
own hose, and despatching his commons with unusual
celerity, both which had since been kept in good exercise
by the necessity of frequent practice. Still it was from
an imperfect recollection of what he had acquired during
this pacific period, that he drew his sources of conversa-
tion when in company with women; in other words, his
language became pedantic when it ceased to be military.

“ Mistress Annot Lyle,” said he, upon the present
occasion, “I am just now like the half-pike, or spontoon
of Achilles, one end of which could wound, and the other
cure

 

a property belonging neither to Spanish pike,
brown-bill, partizan, halberd, Lochaber-axe, or indeed
any other modern staff-weapon whatever.”

This compliment he repeated twice; but as Annot
scarce heard him the first time, and did not comprehend
him the second, he was obliged to explain.

“I mean,” he said, “ Mistress Annot Lyle, that having
been the means of an honourable knight receiving a
severe wound in this day’s conflict,—he having pistolled,
somewhat against the law of arms, my horse, which was
named after the immortal King of Sweden,—I am desir.
ous of procuring him such solacement as you, madam,
ran supply, you being like the heathen god Esculapius,”
(meaning possibly Apollo,) “skilfal not only in song and
in music, but in the more noble art of chirurgery—
epiferque per orbem dicor.”A LEGEND OF MONTROSE. 247

“If you would have the goodness to explain,” said
Annot, too sick at heart to be amused by Sir Dugald’s
nirs of pedantic gallantry.

“That, madam,” replied the Knight, “ may not be se
easy, as I ara out of the habit of construing—but we shall
try. Dicor, supply eyo—I am called.— Opifer ? opifer ?—
Tremember signifer and furcifer—but I believe opifer
stands in this place for M. D., that is, Doctor of Physic.”

“This is a busy day with us all,” said Annot; “ will
you say at once what you want with me?”

“ Merely,” replied Sir Dugald, “ that you will visit my
brother knight, and let your maiden bring some medica-
ments for his wound, which threatens to be what the
learned call a damnum fatale.”

Annot Lyle never lingered in the cause of humanity.
She informed herself hastily of the nature of the injury,
and interesting herself for the dignified old Chief whom
she had seen at Darnlinvarach, and whose presence had
so much struck her, she hastened to lose the sense of her
own sorrow for a time, in the attempt to be useful to
another.

Sir Dugald with great form ushered Annot Lyle to the
chamber of her patiei, in which, to her surprise, she
found Lord Menteith. She could not help blushing
deeply at the meeting, buat, to hide her confusion, pro-
ceeded instantly to examine the wound of the Knight of
Ardenvohr, and easily satisfied herself that it was beyond
her skill to cure it. As for Sir Dugald, he returned to a
large out-house, on the floor of which, among other
wounded men, was deposited the person of Ranald of the
Mist.

“ Mine old friend,” said the Knight, “as I told you
before, I would willingly do any thing to pleasure you, ig
48 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

return for the wound you have received while under my
safe-conduct. I have, therefore, according to your earnest
request, sent Mrs. Annot Lyle to attend upon the wound
of the Knight of Ardenvohr, though wherein her doing so
should benefit you, I cannot imagine.—TI think you once
spoke of some blood relationship between them; but a
soldado, in command and charge like me, has other things
to trouble his head with than Highland genealogies.”

And indeed to do the worthy Major justice, he never
inquired after, listened to, or recollected, the business of
other people, unless it either related to the art military,
or was somehow or other connected with his own in-
terest, in either of which cases his memory was very
tenacious.

“And now, my good friend of the Mist,” said he,
“can you tell me what has become of your hopeful grand-
son, as I have not seen him since he assisted me to disarm
after the action, a negligence which deserveth the stra-
pado?”

“ He is not far from hence,” said the wounded outlaw—
“Jift not your hand upon him, for he is man enough te
pay a yard of leathern scourge with a foot of tempered
steel.”

“A most improper vaunt,” said Sir Dugald; “but I
owe you some favours, Ranald, and therefore shall let it
pass.”

“And if you think you owe me any thing,” said the
outlaw, “it is in your power to requite me by granting
me a boon.”

“Friend Ranald,” answered Dalgetty, “I have read
of these boons in silly story-books, whereby simple knights
were drawn into engagements to their great prejudice ,
wherefore, Ranald, the more prudent knights of this dayA LEGEND OF MONTROSE. 249

hever promise any thing until they know that they may
keep their word anent the premises, without any dis-
pleasure or incommodement to themselves. It may be,
you would have me engage the female chirurgeon to visit
your wound ; though ‘you ought to consider, Ranald, that
the uncleanness of the place where you are deposited
may somewhat soil the gaiety of her garments, concerning
the preservation of which, you may have observed, women
are apt to be inordinately solicitous. I lost the favour of
the lady of the Grand Pensionary of Amsterdam, by
touching with the sole of my boot the train of her black
velvet gown, which I mistook for a foot-cloth, it being
half the room distant from her person.”

“Jt is not to bring Annot Lyle hither,” answered
MacEagh, “but to transport me into the room where she
is in attendance upon the Knight of Ardenvohr. Some-
what I have to say of the last consequence to them
both.”

“Tt is something out of the order of due precedence,”
said Dalgetty, “to carry a wounded outlaw into the pres-
ence of a knight; knighthood having been of yore, and
being, in some respects, still, the highest military grade,
independent always of commissioned officers, who rank
according to their patents; nevertheless, as your boon, as
you call it, is so slight, I shall not deny compliance with
the same.” So saying, he ordered three files of men to
transport MacEagh on their shoulders to Sir Duncan
Campbell’s apartment, and he himself hastened before to
announce the cause of his being brought thither. But
such was the activity of the soldiers employed, that they
followed him close at the heels, and, entering with their
ghastly burden, laid MacEagh on the floor of the apart-
ment. His features, naturally wild, were now distortedoe

Miers

. lI

smote

 

 

230 WAVERLEY NOVELS:

by pain; his hands and scanty garments stained with his
own blood, and those of others, which no kind hand had
wiped away, although the wound in his side had been
secured by a bandage.

“ Are you,” he said, raising his head painfully towards
the couch where lay stretched his late antagonist, “he
whom men call the Knight of Ardenvohr?”

“The same,” answered Sir Duncan —“ what would
you with one whose hours are now numbered ? ”

“ My hours are reduced to minutes,” said the outlaw ;
“the more grace, if I bestow them in the service of one
whose hand has ever been against me, as mine has been
raised higher against him.”

“Thine higher against me !—Crushed worm
the Knight, looking down on his miserable adversary.

“ Yes,” answered the outlaw, in a firm voice, “my arm
hath been highest.. In the deadly contest betwixt us, the
wounds I have dealt have been deepest, though thine
have neither been idle nor unfelt.—I am Ranald MacEagh
—TI am Ranald of the Mist—the night that I gave thy
eastle to the winds in one huge blaze of fire, is now
matched with the day in which you have fallen under the
sword of my fathers.—Remember the injuries thou hast
done our tribe—never were such inflicted, save by one,
beside thee. Hu, they say, is fated and secure against
a short-time will shew.”

{ 99

said

 

vur vengeance

“ My Lord Menteith,” said Sir Duncan, raising himself
out of his bed, “this is a proclaimed villain, at once the
enemy of King and Parliament, of God and man—one
of the outlawed banditti of the Mist; alike the enemy
of your house, of the M‘Aulays, and of mine. I trust
you will not suffer moments, which are perhaps my last,
to be imbittered by his barbarous triumph.”A LEGEND OF MONTROSE. 251

“He shall have the treatment he merits,” said Men-
feith; “let him be instantly removed.”

Sir Dugald here interposed, and spoke of Ranald’s
services as a guide, and his own pledge for his safety;
but the high harsh tones of the outlaw drowned his veice.

“No,” said he, “be rack and gibbet the word! let me
wither between heaven and earth, and gorge the hawks
and eagles of Ben-Nevis; and so shall this haughty
Knight, and this triumphant Thane, never learn the
secret I alone can impart; a secret which would make
Ardenvohr’s heart leap with joy, were he in the death
agony, and which the Earl of Menteith would purchase
at the price of his broad earldom.—Come hither, Annot
Lyle,” he said, raising himself with unexpected strength ;
“fear not the sight of him to whom thou hast clung in
infancy. Tell these proud men, who disdain thee as the
issue of mine ancient race, that thou art no blood of ours,
—no daughter of the race of the Mist, but born in halls
as lordly, and cradled on couch as soft, as ever soothed
infancy in their proudest palaces.”

“In the name of God,” said Menteith, trembling with
‘emotion, “if you know aught of the birth of this lady,
do thy conscience the justice to disburden it of the secret
before departing from this world!”

“ And bless my enemies with my dying breath ?” said
MacHagh, looking at him malignantly.— Such are the
maxims your priests preach—but when, or towards whom,
lo you practise them? Let me know first the worth of
my secret ere I part with it—What would you give,
Knight of Ardenvohr, to know that your superstitious
tasts have been vain, and that there still remains a
qescendant of your house ?—I pause for an answer-—
vithout it, I speak not one word more.”a

. cee rotten toe om

eran
Dene

952 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

“TY could,” said Sir Duncan, his voice struggling be-
tween the emotions of doubt, hatred, and anxiety—* ]
could—but that I know thy race are like the Great Ene-
my, liars and murderers from the beginning—but could
it be true thou tellest me, I could almost forgive thee the
injuries thou hast done me.” |

“ Hear it!” said Ranald; “he hath wagered deeply for
a son of Diarmid—And you, gentle Thane—the report
of the camp says, that you would purchase with life and
lands the tidings that Annot Lyle was no daughter of
proscription, but of a race noble in your estimation as
your own— Well—It is for no love I tell you—The time
has been that I would have exchanged this secret against
liberty; I am now bartering it for what is dearer than
liberty or life—Annot Lyle is the youngest, the sole
surviving child of the Knight of Ardenvohr, who alone
was saved when all in his halls besides was given to blood
and ashes.”

“Can this man speak truth?” said Annot Lyle, scarce
knowing what she said; “or is this some strange delu-
sion ?”

_“ Maiden,” replied Ranald, “hadst thou dwelt longer
with us, thou wouldst have better learnt to know how to
cistinguish the accents of truth. To that Saxon lord,
and to the Knight of Ardenvohr, I will yield such proofs
of what I have spoken, that incredulity shall stand con-
vinced. Mean time, withdraw—I loved thine infancy, I
hate not thy youth—no eye hates the rose in its blossom,
though it groweth upon a thorn, and for thee only do I
something regret what is soon to follow. But he that
would avenge him of his foe must not reck though the
guiltless be engaged in the ruin.”

‘He advises well, Annot,” said Lord Menteith; “inA LEGEND OF MONTROSE. 253

txod’s name retire! if-—if there be aught in this, your
meeting with Sir Duncan must be more prepared for both
your sakes.”

«J will not part from my father, if I have found one,”
said Annot—“I will not part from him under circum-
stances so terrible.”

“ And a father you shall ever find in me,” murmured
Sir Duncan.

“ Then,” said Menteith, “ I will have MacKagh removed
into an adjacent apartment, and will collect the evidence
of his tale myself. Sir Dugald Dalgetty will give me his
attendance and assistance.”

“ With pleasure, my lord,” answered Sir Dugald.—* I
will be your confessor, or assessor—either or both. No
one can be so fit, for I had heard the whole story a
month ago at Inverary castle—but onslaughts like that
of Ardenvohr confuse each other in my memory, which is
besides occupied with matters of more importance.”

Upon hearing this frank declaration, which was made
as they left the apartment with the wounded man, Lord -
Menteith darted upon Dalgetty a look of extreme anger
and disdain, to which the self-conceit of the worthy com-
mander rendered him totally insensible.Mio?

ciiaeiiibiaitines

rs: neers “aero >
—

WAVERLEY NOVELS.

CHAPTER XXII.

1 am as free as nature first made man,

Ere the base laws of servitude began,

When wild in woods the noble savage ran.
CONQUEST OF GRANADA.

Tue Earl of Menteith, as he had undertaken, so he
proceeded to investigate more closely the story told by
Ranald of the Mist, which was corroborated by the exam-
ination of his two followers, who had assisted in the
capacity of guides. ‘These declarations he carefully com-
pared with such circumstances concerning the destruction
of his castle and family as Sir Duncan Campbell was
able to supply ; and it may be supposed he had forgotten
nothing relating to an event of such terrific importance.
It was of the last consequence to prove that this was no
invention of the outlaw’s, for the purpose of passing an
(mpostor as the child and heiress of Ardenvohr.

Perhaps Menteith, so much interested in believing the
tale, was not altogether the fittest person to be intrusted
with the investigation of its truth; but the examinations
of the Children of the Mist were simple, accurate, and in
all respects consistent with each other. A personal mark
was referred to, which was known to have been borne by
the infant child of Sir Duncan, and which appeared upon
the left shoulder of Annot Lyle. It was also well remem-
dered, that when the miserable relics of the other childrenA LEGEND OF MONTROSE. 258

had been collected, those of the infant had nowhere been
found. Other circumstances of evidence, which it is un-
necessary to quote, brought the fullest conviction not only
to Menteith, but to the unprejudiced mind of Montrose,
that in Annot Lyle, a humble dependent, distinguished
only by beauty and talent, they were in future to respect
the heiress of Ardenvohr. |

While Menteith hastened to communicate the result of
these inquiries to the persons most interested, the outlaw
demanded to speak with his grandchild, whom he usually
ealled his son. “ He would be found,” he said, “in the
outer apartment, in which he himself had been originally
deposited.”

Accordingly, the young savage, after a close search,
was found lurking in a corner, coiled up among some
rotten straw, and brought to his grandsire.

“ Kenneth,” said the old outlaw, “hear the last words
of the sire of thy father. A Saxon soldier, and Allan of
the Red-hand, left this camp within these few hours, to
travel to the country of Caberfae. Pursue them as the
ploodhound pursues the hurt deer—swim the lake—climb
tarry not until you joi

 

the mountain—thread the forest
them ;” and then the countenance of the lad darkened
as his grandfather spoke, and he laid his hand upon a
knife which stuck in the thong of leather that confined
his scanty plaid. “No!” said the old man ; it is not by
thy hand he must fall. They will ask the news from the
camp—say to them that Annot Lyle of the Harp is diss
eovered to be the daughter of Duncan of Ardenvehr
‘chat the Thane of Menteith is to wed her before the
priest ; and that you are sent to bid guests to the bridal.
Yarry not their answer, but vanish like the lightning

when the black cloud swallows it.—And now depart, be-“

- A ee

Mi

acnasiameaatte “Tine
a, ns SA IER 8

and

SN co pmageter sh BMA RE

  

256 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

loved son of my best beloved! I shall never more see
thy face, nor hear the light sound of thy footstep—yet
larry an imstant and hear my last charge. Remember
the fate of our race, and quit not the ancient manners of
the Children of the Mist. We are now a straggling
handful, driven from every vale by the sword of every
clan, who rule in the possessions where their forefathers
hewed the wood, and drew the water for ours. But in
the thicket of the wilderness, and in the mist of the
mountain, Kenneth, son of Eracht, keep thou unsoiled
the freedom which I leave thee as a birthright. Barter
it not, neither for the rich garment, nor for the stone
roof, nor for the covered board, nor for the couch of
down—on the rock or in the valley, in abundance or in
famine—in the leafy summer, and in the days of the iron
winter—Son of the Mist! be free as thy forefathers.
Own no lord—receive no law—take no hire—give no
stipend—build no hut

 

 

enclose no pasture—sow no grain;
let the deer of the mountain be thy flocks and herds—if
these fail thee, prey upon the goods of our oppressors—
of the Saxons, and of such Gael as are Saxons in their
souls, valuing herds and flocks more than honour and
freedom. Well for us that they do so—it affords the
broader scope for our revenge. Remember those who
have done kindness to our race, and pay their services
with thy blood, should the hour require it. If a Maclan
shall come to thee with the head of the king’s son in his
hand, shelter him, though the avenging army of the
father were behind him ; for in Glencoe and Ardnamure
chan, we have dwelt in peace in the years that have gone
by. The sons of Diarmid—the race of Darnlinvarach
—the riders of Menteith—my curse on thy head, Child

of the Mist, if thou spare one of those names when theA LEGEND OF MONTROSE. 2oZ

time shall offer for cutting them off! and it will come
anon, for their own swords shall devour each other, and
those who are scattered shall fly to the Mist, and perish
shake the dust

 

by its Children. Once more, begone
from thy feet a

gainst the habitations of men, whether
banded together for peace or for war. Farewell, be-
loved | and mayest thou die like thy forefathers, ere in-
firmity, disease, or age, shall break thy spirit—Begone —
begone !—live free—requite kinduess—avenge the inju-
vies of thy race!”

The young savage stooped, and kissed the brow of his
dying parent; but accustomed from infancy to suppress
every exterior sign of emotion, he parted without tear or
adieu, and was soon far beyond the limits of Montrose’s
camp.

Sir Dugald Dalgetty, who was present during the latter
part of this scene, was very little edified by the conduct
of MacEagh upon the occasion. “TI cannot think, my
friend Ranald,” said he, “that you are in the best possi-
ble road for a dying man. Storms, onslaughts, massa-
cres, the burning of suburbs, are indeed a soldier’s daily
work, and are justified by the necessity of the case, see-
ing that they are done in the course of duty; for burning
of suburbs, in particular, it may be said that they are
traitors and cut-throats to all fortified towns. Hence it
is plain, that a soldier is a profession peculiarly favoured
by Heaven, seeing that we may hope for salvation, al-
though we daily commit actions of so great violence.
But then, Ranald, in all services of Kurope, it is the
custom of the dying soldier not to vaunt him ot such
doings, or to recommend them to his fellows; but, on the 2
contrary, to express contrition for the same, and to repeat,
or have repeated to him, some comfortable prayer; which,

Vol. XII. 17

SKIB58 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

if you please, I will intercede with his Excellency’s char.
lain to prefer on your account. It is otherwise no point
of my duty to put you in mind of those things ; only it
may be for the ease of your conscience to depart more
like a Christian, and less like a Turk, than you seem te
be in a fair way of doing.”

The only answer of the dying man (for as such Ranald
MacEagh migl.t now be considered) was a request to be
raised to such a position that he might obtain a view from
the window of the castle. The deep frost mist, which
had long settled upon the top of the mountains, was now
rolling down each rugged glen and gully, where the
cragey ridges shewed their black and irregular outline,
like desert islands rising above the ocean of vapour,
“Spirit of the Mist!” said Ranald MacEagh, “ called
by our race our father, and our prese1ver—receive into
thy tabernacle of clouds, when this pang is over, him
whom in life thou hast so often sheltered.” So saying,
he sunk back into the arms of those who upheld him,
spoke no farther word, but turned his face to the wall for
a short space.

“I believe,” said Dalgetty, “ my friend Ranald will be
found in his heart to be little better than a heathen.”
And he renewed his proposal to procure him the assist-
ance of Dr. Wisheart, Montrose’s military chaplain; “a
man,” said Sir Dugald, “very clever in his exercise, and
who will do execution on your sins in less time than I
could smoke a pipe of tobacco.”

“Saxon,” said the dying man, “ speak te me no mere
of thy priest—I die contented. Hadst thua ever an
enemy against whom weapons were of no avail—whom
the ball missed, and against whom the. arrow shivered,
end whose bare skin was as impenetrable to sword andA LEGEND OF MONTROSE. 259

dirk as ty steel garment ?—Heardst thou ever of such a
foe?”

“Very trequently, when I served in Germany,” replied
Sir Dugald. “There was such a fellow at Ingolstadt ;
he was proof both against lead and steel. The soldiers
killed him with the buts of their muskets.”

“This impassible foe,” said Ranald, without regarding
the Major’s interruption, “ who has the blood dearest to
me upon his hands—to this man I have now bequeathed
agony of mind, jealousy, despair, and sudden death,—or
a life more miserable than death itself? Such shall be
the lot of Allan of the Red-hand, when he learns that
Annot weds Menteith; and I ask no more than the
certainty that it is so, to sweeten my own bloody end by
his hand.”

“If that be the case,” said the Major, “there’s no more
to be said; but I shall take care as few people see you
as possible, for I cannot think your mode of departure
can be at all creditable or exemplary to a Christian
army.” So saying, he left the apartment, and the Son
of the Mist soon after breathed his last.

Menteith, in the meanwhile, leaving the new-found
relations to their mutual feelings of mingled emotion, was
eagerly discussing with Montrose the consequences of
this discovery. “I should now see,” said the Marquis,
“ even had I not before observed it, that your interest m
this discovery, my dear Menteith, has no small reference
love this new-found lady,—
In point of birth, no excep-

y other respect, her advantages

to your own happiness. You
your affection is returned.
ions can be made; in ever
hich you yourself possess—think
Sir Duncan is a fanatic—Presby-
ing; he is only

are equal to those w
nowever, a moment.
erian at least—in arms against the Ki

samme rine

  

260 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

with us in the quality of a prisoner, and we are, I fear,
but at the commencement of' a long civil war Is this 4
time, think you, Menteith, for you to make proposals for
his heiress? Or what chance is there that he will now
listen to it?”

Passion, an ingenious as well as an eloquent advocate,
supplied the young nobleman with a thousand answers to
these objections.. He reminded Montrose that the Knight
of Ardenvohr was neither a bigot in politics nor religion.
He urged his own known and proved zeal for the royal
cause, and hinted that its influence might be extended and
strengthened by his wedding the heiress of Ardenvohr,
He pleaded the dangerous state of Sir Duncan’s wound,
the risk which must be run by suffering the young lady
to be carried into the country of the Campbells, where,
in case of her father’s death, or continued indisposition,
she must necessarily be placed under the guardianship
of Argyle, an event fatal to his (Menteith’s) hopes, unless
he could stoop to-purchase his favour by abandoning the
King’s party.

Montrose allowed the force of these arguments, and
owned, although the matter was attended with difficulty,
yet it seemed consistent with the King’s service that it
should be concluded as speedily as possible,

“YT could wish,” said he, “that it were al] settled in
one way or another, and that this fair Briseis were. ree
moved from our camp before the return. of our Highland
Achilles, Allan M‘Aulay.—I fear some fatal feud in that
quarter, Menteith—and I believe it would be best that
sir Duncan be dismissed on his parole, and that you
accompany him and his daughter as his escort. The
journey can be made chiefly by water, se will not greatly
wcommode his wound—and your own, my friend, willA LEGEND OF MONTROSE.

be an honourable excuse for an absence for some time
from my camp.”

“Never!” said Menteith. “Were I to forfeit the
very hope that has so lately dawned upon me, never will
I leave your Excellency’s camp while the royal standard
is displayed. I should deserve that this trifling scratch
should gangrene and consume my sword-arm, were I ca:
pable of holding it as an excuse for absence at this crisis
of the Kino’s affairs.”

“On this, then, you are determined ?” said Montrose.

“ Ag fixed as Ben-Nevis,” said the young nobleman.

“You must, then,” said Montrose, “lose no time in
seeking an explanation with the Knight of Ardenvohr.
If this prove favourable, I will talk myself with the elder
M‘Aulay, and we will devise means to employ his brother
at a distance from the army until he shall be reconciled
to his present disappointment. Would to God some
vision would descend upon his imagination fair enough to
obliterate all traces of Annot Lyle! That perhaps you
think impossible, Menteith °__Well, each to his service ;
you to that of Cupid, and I to that of Mars.”

They parted, and in pursuance of the scheme arranged,
Menteith, early on the ensuing morning, sought a private
‘ew with the wounded Knight of Ardenvohr, and

interv
s suit for the hand of his daughter.

communicated to him hi
Of their mutual attachment Sir Duncan was aware, but
he was not prepared for so early a declaration on the
part of Menteith. He said, at first, that he had already
perhars, indulged too much in feclings of personal hap-
piness, at a time when his clan had sustained so great a
loss and humiliation, and that he was unwilling, therefore,
farther to consider the advancement-of his own house at

a period so calamitous. On the more urgent suit of theoa

Mix

| 262 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

noble lover, he requested a few hours to deliberate and
consult with his daughter upon a question so highly
important.

The result of this interview and deliberation was fa-
vourable to Menteith. Sir Duncan Campbell became
fully sensible that the happiness of his new-found daugh-
ter depended upon a union with her lover; and unless
such were now formed, he saw that Argyle would throw
a thousand obstacles in the way of a match in every
respect acceptable to himself. Menteith’s private char-
acter was so excellent, and such was the rank and con-
sideration due to his fortune and family, that they outbal-
anced, in Sir Dunean’s opinion, the difference in their
political opinions. Nor could he have resolved, perhaps,
had his own opinion of the match been less favourable,
to decline an opportunity of indulging the new-found
child of his hopes. There was, besides, a feeling of pride
which dictated his determination. To produce the Heiress
of Ardenvohr to the world as one who had been educated
a poor dependent and musician in the family of Darnlin-
varach, had something in it that was humiliating. To
introduce her as the. betrothed bride, or wedded wife, of
the Earl of Menteith, upon an attachment formed during
her obscurity, was a warrant to the world that she had
at all times been worthy of the rank to which she was
elevated.

It was under the influence of these considerations that
Sir Duncan Campbell announced to the lovers his consent
that they should be married in the chapel of the Castle,
by Montrose’s chaplain, and as privately as possible. But
when Montrose should break up from Inverlochy, for
which orders were expected in the course of a very few
days, it was agreed that the young Countess should depart_.A LEGEND OF MONTROSE.

with her father to his castle, and remain there until the
circumstances of the nation permitted Menteith to retire
with honour from his present military employment. His
resolution being once taken, Sir Duncan Campbell would
not permit the maidenly scruples of his daughter to delay
its execution; and it was therefore resolved that the
bridal should take place the next evening, being tht
second after the battle. :

JMini

nthe

~,
| Aetacencmon

—

an

—

264 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

CHAPTER XXII.

My maid—my blue-eyed maid, he bore away
Due to the toils of many a bloody day.

ILIAD.

It was necessary, for many reasons, that Angus
M‘Aulay, so long the kind protector of Annot Lyle,
should be made acquainted with the change in the
fortunes of his late protégée; and Montrose, as he had
undertaken, communicated to him these remarkable
events. With the careless and cheerful indifference of
his character, he expressed much more joy than wonder
at Annot’s good fortune; had no doubt whatever she
would merit it, and as she had always been bred in loyal
principles, would convey the whole estate of her grim
fanatical father to some honest fellow who loved the
King. “I should have no objection that my brother
Allan should try his chance,” added he, “ notwithstanding
that Sir Duncan Campbell was the only man who ever
charged Darnlinvarach with inhospitality. Annot Lyle
could always charm Allan out of the sullens, and who
knows whether matrimony might not make him more a
man of this world ?”

Montrose hastened to interrupt the progress of his
castle-building, by informing him that the lady was
already wooed and won, and, with her father’s appro
bation, was almost immediately to be wedded to hisA LEGEND OF MONTROSE. 26d

kinsman, the Earl of Menteith; and that in testimony
of the high respect due to M‘Aulay, so long the lady’s
protector, he was now to request his presence at the
ceremony. M‘Aulay looked very grave at this intima-
rion, and drew up his person with the air of one who
thought that he had been neglected.

“Tle conceived,’ he said, “that his uniform kind
treatment of the young lady, while so many years under
his roof, required something more upon such an occasion
than a bare compliment of ceremony. He might,” he-
thought, “‘ without arrogance, have expected to have been
eonsulted. He wished his kinsman of Menteith well, ne
man could wish him better; but he must say he thought
he had been hasty in this matter. Allan’s sentiments
towards the young lady had been pretty well understood,
and he, for one, could not see why the superior preten-
sions which he had upon her gratitude should have been
cet aside, without at least undergoing some previous dis-
cussion.”

Montrose, seeing too well where all this pointed,
enfreated M‘Aulay to be reasonable, and to consider
what probability there was that the Knight of Ardenvohr
could be brought to confer the hand of his sole heiress
upon Allan, whose undeniable excellent qualities were
mingled with others, by which they were overclouded in
a manner that made all tremble who approached him.

“ My lord,” said Angus M‘Aulay, “my brother Allan

has, as God made us all, faults as well as merits; but he

ts the best and bravest man of your army, be the other
who he may, and therefore ill deserved that his happiness
should have been so little consulted by your Excellency —
yy his own near kinsman—and by a young person whe
swes all to him and to his family.”acme

Ae cmt
pli sas, cans
Ee PPR prem RE,

sl BE wee A
—

266 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

Montrose in vain endeavoured to place the subject in a
different view; this was the point in which Angus wag
determined to regard it, and he was a man of that calibre

of understanding,

who-is incapable of being convinced
when he has once adopted a prejudice. Montrose now
assumed a higher tone, and called upon Angus to take
care how he nourished any sentiments which might be
prejudicial to his Majesty’s service. He pointed out to
him, that he was peculiarly desirous that Allan’s efforts

. should not be interrupted in the course of his present

mission; “a mission,” he said, “highly honourable for
himself, and likely to prove most advantageous to the
King’s cause. He expected his brother would hold no
communication with him upon other. subjects, nor stir up
any cause of dissension, which might divert his mind
trom a matter of such importance.”

Angus answered somewhat sulkily, that “he was no
makebate, or stirrer up of quarrels; he would rather be
a peacemaker- His brother knew as well as most men
how to resent his own quarrels—as for Allan’s mode of
receiving information, it was generally believed he had
other sources than those of ordinary couriers. He should
not be surprised if they saw him sooner than they
expected.”

A promise that he would not interfere, was th< farthest
to which Montrose could bring this man, thoroughly good-
tempered as he was on all occasions, save when his pride,
interest, or prejudices, were interfered with. And at this
point the Marquis was fain to leave the matter for the
present.

A more willing guest at the bridal ceremony, certainly
a more willing attendant at the marriage feast, was to be
expected in Six Dugald Dalgetty whom MontroseA LEGEND OF MONTROSE.

resolved to invite, as having been a confidant to the
circumstances which preceded it. But even Sir Dugald
hesitated, looked on the elbows of his doublet, and the
knees of his leather breeches, and mumbled out a sort of
reluctant acquiescence in the invitation, provided he
should find it possible, after consulting with the noble
bridegroom. Montrose was somewhat surprised, but
scorning to testify displeasure, he left Sir Dugald to
pursue his own course.

This carried him instantly to the chamber of the bride-
eroom, who, amidst the scanty wardrobe which his camp-
equipage afforded, was seeking for such articles as might
appear to the best advantage upon the approaching
occasion. Sir Dugald entered, and paid his compliments,
with a very grave face, upon his approaching happiness,
which, he said, “he was very sorry he was prevented
from witnessing.”

«Jn plain truth,’ said he, “I should but disgrace the
ceremony, seeing that I lack a bridal garment. Rents,
and open seams, and tatters at elbows in the apparel of
the assistants, might presage a similar solution of contin-
uity in your matrimonial happiness—and to say truth,
my lord, you yourself must partly have the blame of
this disappointment, in respect you sent me upon a fool’s
errand to get a buff-coat out of the booty taken by the
Camerons, whereas you might as well have sent me to
fetch a pound of fresh butter out of a black dog’s throat.

had no answer, my lord, but brandished dirks and broad.
rwords, and a sort of growling and jabbering in what
they call their language. For my part, I believe these
Highlanders to be no better than absolute pagans, and
have been much scandalized by the manner in which my
acquaintance, Ranald MacEagh, was pleased to beat his

Gnal march, a little while since.”ne

te mm
ine ccna
arene ama:

~
ie i a RI

—

kane

—

268 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

In Menteith’s state of mind, disposed to be pleased
with every thing, and every body, the grave complaint
of Sir Dugald furnished additional amusement. He
requested his acceptance of a very handsome buff dress
which was lying on the floor. “I had intended it,’ he
said, “for my own bridal garment as being the least
formidable of my warlike equipments, and I have here
no peaceful dress.”

Sir Dugald made the necessary apologies—would not
by any means deprive

 

and so forth, until it happily
occurred to him that it was much more according to mili-
tary rule that the Earl should be married in his back and
breast-pieces, which dress he had seen the bridegroom
wear at the union of Prince Leo of Wittlesbach with the
youngest daughter of old George Frederick of Saxony,
under the auspices of the gallant Gustavus Adolphus, the
Lion of the North, and so forth. The good-natured
young Karl laughed, and acquiesced; and thus having
secured at least one merry face at his bridal, he put on a
hight and ornamented cuirass, concealed partly by a velvet
coat, and partly by a broad blue silk scarf, which he wore
over his shoulder, agreeably to his rank, and the fashion
of the times.

Every thing was now arranged; and it had been set.
tled, that, according to the custom of the country, the
bride and bridegroom should not again meet until they
were before the altar. The hour had already struck that
summoned the bridegroom thither, and he only waited in
a small anteroom adjacent to the chapel, for the Marquis,
who condescended to act as bride’s-man upon the occa-
sion. Business relating to the army having suddenly
cequired the Marquis’s instant attention, Menteith waited
nis return, it may be supposed, in some impatience; andA LEGEND OF MONTROSE.

when he heard the door of the-apartment open, he said,
laughing, “ You are late upon parade.”

“ You will find I am too early,” said Allan M‘Aulay,
who burst into the apartment. “Draw, Menteith, and
defend yourself like a man, or die like a dog!”

“You are mad, Allan!” answered Menteith, astonished
alike at his sudden appearance, and at the unutterable
fury of his demeanour. His cheeks were livid—his cyes
started from their sockets—his lips were covered with
foam, and his gestures were those of a demoniac.

« You lie, traitor!” was his frantic reply —“ you lie in
that, as you lie in all you have said to me. Your life is
a lie.!.”

“ Did I not speak my thoughts when I called you
mad,” said Menteith, indignantly ; “ your own life were |
a bricf one. In what do you charge me with deceiving
your”

“ You told me,” answered M‘Aulay, “that you would
False traitor !—she now waits

 

not marry Annot Lyle !

you at the altar.”

“Jt is you who speak false,” retorted Menteith. “1
told you the obscurity of her birth was the only bar te
our union—that is now removed; and whom do you
think yourself, that I should yield up my pretensions in
your favour ?”

“ Draw, then,” said M‘Aulay; “we understand each
other.”

“Not now,” said Menteith, “and not here. Allan,
you know me well—wait till to-morrow, and you shall
have fighting enough.”

“ This hour—this instant,—or never,” answered M‘Au- ig
lay. “ Your triumph shall not go farther than the hour Us
which is stricken. Menteith, I entreat you by our rela-=

2 tae

badness
ti

engne sateen

7
Oe RAE eo

ty
—

270 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

tionship—by our joint conflicts and labours—draw your
sword, and defend your life!” As he spoke, he seized
the Earl’s hand, and wrung it with such frantic earnest-
aess, that his grasp forced the blood to start under the
nails. Menteith threw him off with violence, exclaim-
ing, “ Begone, madman !”

“Then, be the vision accomplished !” said Allan; and,

drawing his dirk, struck with his whole gigantic force at

the Earl’s bosom. The temper of the corselet threw the
point of the weapon upwards, but .a deep wound took
place between the neck and shoulder; and the force of
the blow prostrated the bridegroom on the floor. Mon-
trose entered at one side of the anteroom: The bridai
company, alarmed at the noise, were in equal apprehen-
sion and surprise; but ere Montrose could almost see
what had happened, Allan M‘Aulay had rushed past him,
and descended the castle stairs like lightning. “ Guards,
shut the gate!” exclaimed Montrose—“Seize him—
kill him, if he resists!—he shall die, if he were my
brother !”

But Allan prostrated, with a second blow of his dag-
ger, a sentinel who was upon duty—traversed the camp
like a mountain-deer, though pursued by all who ‘aught
the alarm—threw himself into the river, and, swimming
to the opposite side, was soon lost among the woods. In
the course of the same evening, his brother Angus and
his followers left Montrose’s camp, and, taking the road
homeward, never again rejoined him.

Of Allan himself, it is said, that ina wonderfully
short space after the deed was committed, he burst into
a room in the Castle of Inverary, where Argyle was ~

sitting in council, and flung on the table his bloody
dirk.A LEGEND OF MONTROSE. 271

seca Tens 5
Is it the blood of James Grahame?” said Argyle, a
ghastly expression of hope mixing with the terror whick
] I g ich
the sudden apparition natu: ally excited.
“é i a jE 7} E > a . ° x;
It is the blood of his minion,” answered M‘Aulay—
T+ Ja | ; thi :
It is the blood which I was peat ined to shed, though
I would rather have spilt my own.”
Having thus spoken, he turned and left the castle, and
from that moment nothing certain is sito of his fate.
er Cay t +t - 1
As the boy Kenneth, with three of the Children of the
Mist, were seen soon afterwards to cross Lockfine, it is
suppos

d

1 they dogged his course, and that he perished by
their ea ie some obscure wilderness. Another opinion
maintains, that Allan M‘Aulay went abroad and died a
monk of the Carthusian order. But nothing beyond bare
presumption could ever be brought in support of either
opinion.

His vengeance was much less complete than he prob-
ably fancied ; for Menteith, though so severely wounded
as to remain long in a dangerous state, was, by having
adopted Major Dalgetty’s fortunate recommendation of a
cuirass as a bridal garment, happily secured from the
worst consequences of the blow. But his services were
lost to Montrose; and it was thought best, that he should
be conveyed with his intended countess, now truly a
mourning bride, and should accompany his wounded
father-in-law to. the castle of Sir Duncan at Arden-
vohr. Dalgetty followed them to the water’s edge, re-
minding Menteith of the necessity of erecting a sconce
an Drumsnab to cover his lady’s newly acquired inheri-
sance.

They performed their voyage in safety, and Menteith
was in a few wecks so well in health, as to be united to
Annot in the castle of her father."area:

~.

—,

Magen =

—

272 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

The Highlanders were somewhat puzzled to reconcile
Menteith’s recovery with the visions of the second sight,
and the more experienced Seers were displeased with
him for not having died. But others thought the credit
of the vision sufficiently fulfilled, by the wound inflicted
by the hand, and with the weapon, foretold ; and all were
of opinion, that the incident of the ring, with the death’s
head, related to the death of the bride’s father, who did

not survive her marriage many months. ‘The incredu-

—

ous held, that all this-was idle dreaming, and _ that

A

Allan’s supposed vision was but a consequence of the

é

rivate suggestions of his own passion, which, having

pd eet

ong seen in Menteith a rival more beloved than himself,

struggled with his better nature, and impressed upon
him, as it. were involuntarily, the idea of killing his

competitor.

Menteith did not recover sufficiently to join Montrose
during his brief and glorious career; and when that
heroic general disbanded his army and retired from Scot-
land, Menteith resolved to adopt the life of privacy, which
he led till the Restoration. After that happy event, he
occupied a situation in the land befitting his rank, lived
long, happy alike in public regard and in domestic attec-
tion, and died at a good old age.

Our dramatis persone have been so limited, that ex-
septing Montrose, whose exploits and fate are the theme
it history, we have only to mention Sir Dugald Dalgetty.
This gentleman continued, with the most rigorous punct-
uality, to discharge his duty, and to receive his pay, until
he was made prisoner, among others, upon the field of
Philiphaugh. He was condemned to share the fate of
bis fellow-officers upon that occasion, who were doomed
to death rather by denunciations from the pulpit, thanA LEGEND OF MONTROSE. 278

the sentence either of civil or military tribunal ; their
blood being considered as a sort of sin-offering to take
away the guilt of the land, and the fate imposed upon the
Canaanites, under a special dispensation, being impiously
and cruelly applied to them.

Several Lowland officers, in the service of the Cove-
nanters, interceded for Dalgetty on this occasion, repre-
senting him as a person whose skill would be useful in
their army, and who would be readily induced to change
his service. But on this point they found Sir Dugald un-
expectedly obstinate. He had engaged with the King
for a certain term, and, till that was expired, his prin-
ciples would not permit any shadow of cRanging. The
Covenanters, again, understood no such nice distinction,
and he was in the utmost danger of falling a martyr, not
to this or that political principle, but merely to his own
strict ideas of a military enlistment. Fortunately, his
friends discovered, by computation, that there remained
but a fortnight to elapse of the engagement he had formed,
and to which, though certain it was never to be renewed,
no power on earth could make him false. With some
difficulty they procured a reprieve for this short space,
after which they found him perfectly willing to come
under any engagements they chose to dictate. He en-
tered the service of the Estates accordingly, and wrought
himself forward to be Major in Gilbert Ker’s corps, com-
monly called the Kirk’s Own Regiment of Horse. Of
his farther history we know nothing, until we find him im
possession of his paternal estate of Drumthwacket, which
he acquired, not by the sword, but by a pacific inter-
marriage with Hannah Strachan, a matron somewhat
stricken in years, the widow of the Aberdeenshire
Covenanter.

VOI. XII. 18974 WAVERLEY NOVELS.

4

Sir Dugald is supposed to have survived the Revolu-

YT | tion, as traditions of no very distant date represent him as

Hit eruizing about in that country, very old, very deaf, and
very full of interminable stories about the immortal
Gustavus Adolphus, the Lion of the North, and the bul-
wark of the Protestant Faith.

cit, ~

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