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diff --git a/old/1460-0.txt b/old/1460-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1eaf0e5 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/1460-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6544 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Black Dwarf, by Sir Walter Scott + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Black Dwarf + +Author: Sir Walter Scott + +Release Date: February 15, 2006 [EBook #1460] +Last Updated: August 30, 2016 + + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BLACK DWARF *** + + + + +Produced by An Anonymous Volunteer and David Widger + + + + + +THE BLACK DWARF + +by Sir Walter Scott + + + + +CONTENTS. + + I. Tales of my Landlord + Introduction by “Jedediah Cleishbotham” + II. Introduction to THE BLACK DWARF + III. Main text of THE BLACK DWARF + + + Note: Footnotes in the printed book have been inserted in the + etext in square brackets (“[]”) close to the place where + they were referenced by a suffix in the original text. + Text in italics has been written in capital letters. + + + + +I. TALES OF MY LANDLORD + +COLLECTED AND REPORTED BY JEDEDIAH CLEISHBOTHAM, SCHOOLMASTER AND +PARISH-CLERK OF GANDERCLEUGH. + + + + +INTRODUCTION. + +As I may, without vanity, presume that the name and official description +prefixed to this Proem will secure it, from the sedate and reflecting +part of mankind, to whom only I would be understood to address myself, +such attention as is due to the sedulous instructor of youth, and the +careful performer of my Sabbath duties, I will forbear to hold up +a candle to the daylight, or to point out to the judicious those +recommendations of my labours which they must necessarily anticipate +from the perusal of the title-page. Nevertheless, I am not unaware, +that, as Envy always dogs Merit at the heels, there may be those who +will whisper, that albeit my learning and good principles cannot +(lauded be the heavens) be denied by any one, yet that my situation at +Gandercleugh hath been more favourable to my acquisitions in learning +than to the enlargement of my views of the ways and works of the present +generation. To the which objection, if, peradventure, any such shall be +started, my answer shall be threefold: + +First, Gandercleugh is, as it were, the central part--the navel (SI +FAS SIT DICERE) of this our native realm of Scotland; so that men, from +every corner thereof, when travelling on their concernments of business, +either towards our metropolis of law, by which I mean Edinburgh, or +towards our metropolis and mart of gain, whereby I insinuate Glasgow, +are frequently led to make Gandercleugh their abiding stage and place of +rest for the night. And it must be acknowledged by the most sceptical, +that I, who have sat in the leathern armchair, on the left-hand side of +the fire, in the common room of the Wallace Inn, winter and summer, +for every evening in my life, during forty years bypast (the Christian +Sabbaths only excepted), must have seen more of the manners and customs +of various tribes and people, than if I had sought them out by my +own painful travel and bodily labour. Even so doth the tollman at the +well-frequented turn-pike on the Wellbraehead, sitting at his ease in +his own dwelling, gather more receipt of custom, than if, moving forth +upon the road, he were to require a contribution from each person whom +he chanced to meet in his journey, when, according to the vulgar adage, +he might possibly be greeted with more kicks than halfpence. + +But, secondly, supposing it again urged, that Ithacus, the most wise of +the Greeks, acquired his renown, as the Roman poet hath assured us, by +visiting states and men, I reply to the Zoilus who shall adhere to this +objection, that, DE FACTO, I have seen states and men also; for I have +visited the famous cities of Edinburgh and Glasgow, the former twice, +and the latter three times, in the course of my earthly pilgrimage. And, +moreover, I had the honour to sit in the General Assembly (meaning, as +an auditor, in the galleries thereof), and have heard as much goodly +speaking on the law of patronage, as, with the fructification thereof +in mine own understanding, hath made me be considered as an oracle upon +that doctrine ever since my safe and happy return to Gandercleugh. + +Again--and thirdly, If it be nevertheless pretended that my information +and knowledge of mankind, however extensive, and however painfully +acquired, by constant domestic enquiry, and by foreign travel, is, +natheless, incompetent to the task of recording the pleasant narratives +of my Landlord, I will let these critics know, to their own eternal +shame and confusion as well as to the abashment and discomfiture of all +who shall rashly take up a song against me, that I am NOT the writer, +redacter, or compiler, of the Tales of my Landlord; nor am I, in one +single iota, answerable for their contents, more or less. And now, ye +generation of critics, who raise yourselves up as if it were brazen +serpents, to hiss with your tongues, and to smite with your stings, bow +yourselves down to your native dust, and acknowledge that yours have +been the thoughts of ignorance, and the words of vain foolishness. Lo! +ye are caught in your own snare, and your own pit hath yawned for you. +Turn, then, aside from the task that is too heavy for you; destroy +not your teeth by gnawing a file; waste not your strength by spurning +against a castle wall; nor spend your breath in contending in swiftness +with a fleet steed; and let those weigh the Tales of my Landlord, who +shall bring with them the scales of candour cleansed from the rust of +prejudice by the hands of intelligent modesty. For these alone they were +compiled, as will appear from a brief narrative which my zeal for truth +compelled me to make supplementary to the present Proem. + +It is well known that my Landlord was a pleasing and a facetious man, +acceptable unto all the parish of Gandercleugh, excepting only the +Laird, the Exciseman, and those for whom he refused to draw liquor upon +trust. Their causes of dislike I will touch separately, adding my own +refutation thereof. + +His honour, the Laird, accused our Landlord, deceased, of having +encouraged, in various times and places, the destruction of hares, +rabbits, fowls black and grey, partridges, moor-pouts, roe-deer, and +other birds and quadrupeds, at unlawful seasons, and contrary to the +laws of this realm, which have secured, in their wisdom, the slaughter +of such animals for the great of the earth, whom I have remarked to take +an uncommon (though to me, an unintelligible) pleasure therein. Now, in +humble deference to his honour, and in justifiable defence of my friend +deceased, I reply to this charge, that howsoever the form of such +animals might appear to be similar to those so protected by the law, yet +it was a mere DECEPTIO VISUS; for what resembled hares were, in fact, +HILL-KIDS, and those partaking of the appearance of moor-fowl, were +truly WOOD PIGEONS and consumed and eaten EO NOMINE, and not otherwise. + +Again, the Exciseman pretended, that my deceased Landlord did encourage +that species of manufacture called distillation, without having an +especial permission from the Great, technically called a license, for +doing so. Now, I stand up to confront this falsehood; and in defiance +of him, his gauging-stick, and pen and inkhorn, I tell him, that I +never saw, or tasted, a glass of unlawful aqua vitae in the house of +my Landlord; nay, that, on the contrary, we needed not such devices, in +respect of a pleasing and somewhat seductive liquor, which was vended +and consumed at the Wallace Inn, under the name of MOUNTAIN DEW. If +there is a penalty against manufacturing such a liquor, let him show me +the statute; and when he does, I’ll tell him if I will obey it or no. + +Concerning those who came to my Landlord for liquor, and went thirsty +away, for lack of present coin, or future credit, I cannot but say it +has grieved my bowels as if the case had been mine own. Nevertheless, my +Landlord considered the necessities of a thirsty soul, and would permit +them, in extreme need, and when their soul was impoverished for lack +of moisture, to drink to the full value of their watches and wearing +apparel, exclusively of their inferior habiliments, which he was +uniformly inexorable in obliging them to retain, for the credit of the +house. As to mine own part, I may well say, that he never refused me +that modicum of refreshment with which I am wont to recruit nature after +the fatigues of my school. It is true, I taught his five sons English +and Latin, writing, book-keeping, with a tincture of mathematics, and +that I instructed his daughter in psalmody. Nor do I remember me of +any fee or HONORARIUM received from him on account of these my labours, +except the compotations aforesaid. Nevertheless this compensation suited +my humour well, since it is a hard sentence to bid a dry throat wait +till quarter-day. + +But, truly, were I to speak my simple conceit and belief, I think my +Landlord was chiefly moved to waive in my behalf the usual requisition +of a symbol, or reckoning, from the pleasure he was wont to take in my +conversation, which, though solid and edifying in the main, was, like +a well-built palace, decorated with facetious narratives and devices, +tending much to the enhancement and ornament thereof. And so pleased was +my Landlord of the Wallace in his replies during such colloquies, that +there was no district in Scotland, yea, and no peculiar, and, as it +were, distinctive custom therein practised, but was discussed betwixt +us; insomuch, that those who stood by were wont to say, it was worth +a bottle of ale to hear us communicate with each other. And not a few +travellers, from distant parts, as well as from the remote districts of +our kingdom, were wont to mingle in the conversation, and to tell news +that had been gathered in foreign lands, or preserved from oblivion in +this our own. + +Now I chanced to have contracted for teaching the lower classes with a +young person called Peter, or Patrick, Pattieson, who had been educated +for our Holy Kirk, yea, had, by the license of presbytery, his voice +opened therein as a preacher, who delighted in the collection of olden +tales and legends, and in garnishing them with the flowers of poesy, +whereof he was a vain and frivolous professor. For he followed not the +example of those strong poets whom I proposed to him as a pattern, but +formed versification of a flimsy and modern texture, to the compounding +whereof was necessary small pains and less thought. And hence I have +chid him as being one of those who bring forward the fatal revolution +prophesied by Mr. Robert Carey, in his Vaticination on the Death of the +celebrated Dr. John Donne: + + Now thou art gone, and thy strict laws will be + Too hard for libertines in poetry; + Till verse (by thee refined) in this last age + Turn ballad rhyme. + +I had also disputations with him touching his indulging rather a +flowing and redundant than a concise and stately diction in his prose +exercitations. But notwithstanding these symptoms of inferior taste, +and a humour of contradicting his betters upon passages of dubious +construction in Latin authors, I did grievously lament when Peter +Pattieson was removed from me by death, even as if he had been the +offspring of my own loins. And in respect his papers had been left in +my care (to answer funeral and death-bed expenses), I conceived myself +entitled to dispose of one parcel thereof, entitled, “Tales of my +Landlord,” to one cunning in the trade (as it is called) of bookselling. +He was a mirthful man, of small stature, cunning in counterfeiting of +voices, and in making facetious tales and responses, and whom I have to +laud for the truth of his dealings towards me. + +Now, therefore, the world may see the injustice that charges me with +incapacity to write these narratives, seeing, that though I have proved +that I could have written them if I would, yet, not having done so, +the censure will deservedly fall, if at all due, upon the memory of Mr. +Peter Pattieson; whereas I must be justly entitled to the praise, +when any is due, seeing that, as the Dean of St. Patrick’s wittily and +logically expresseth it, + + That without which a thing is not, + Is CAUSA SINE QUA NON. + +The work, therefore, is unto me as a child is to a parent; in the which +child, if it proveth worthy, the parent hath honour and praise; but, if +otherwise, the disgrace will deservedly attach to itself alone. + +I have only further to intimate, that Mr. Peter Pattieson, in arranging +these Tales for the press, hath more consulted his own fancy than the +accuracy of the narrative; nay, that he hath sometimes blended two +or three stories together for the mere grace of his plots. Of which +infidelity, although I disapprove and enter my testimony against it, yet +I have not taken upon me to correct the same, in respect it was the will +of the deceased, that his manuscript should be submitted to the press +without diminution or alteration. A fanciful nicety it was on the part +of my deceased friend, who, if thinking wisely, ought rather to have +conjured me, by all the tender ties of our friendship and common +pursuits, to have carefully revised, altered, and augmented, at my +judgment and discretion. But the will of the dead must be scrupulously +obeyed, even when we weep over their pertinacity and self-delusion. So, +gentle reader, I bid you farewell, recommending you to such fare as the +mountains of your own country produce; and I will only farther premise, +that each Tale is preceded by a short introduction, mentioning the +persons by whom, and the circumstances under which, the materials +thereof were collected. + +JEDEDIAH CLEISHBOTHAM. + + + + +II. INTRODUCTION to THE BLACK DWARF. + +The ideal being who is here presented as residing in 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 Stobo, and must have +been born in the misshapen form which he exhibited, though he sometimes +imputed it to ill-usage when in infancy. He was bred a brush-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 of 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, laughter, 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 a bank on the farm +of Woodhouse, in the sequestered vale of the small river Manor, in +Peeblesshire. The few people who had occasion to pass that way were much +surprised, and some superstitious persons a little alarmed, to see so +strange a figure as Bow’d Davie (i.e. Crooked David) employed in a task, +for which he seemed so totally unfit, as that of erecting a house. The +cottage which he built was extremely 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 assistance; and as no one knew +how much aid had been given by others, the wonder of each individual +remained undiminished. + +The proprietor of the ground, the late Sir James Naesmith, baronet, +chanced 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;” so 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 forfeiture, but readily sanctioned the harmless +encroachment. + +The personal description of Elshender of Mucklestane-Moor has been +generally allowed to be a tolerably exact and unexaggerated 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 concerning his figure and temper occur +in the SCOTS MAGAZINE for 1817, and are now understood to have been +communicated by the ingenious Mr. Robert Chambers of Edinburgh, who has +recorded with much spirit the traditions of the Good Town, and, in other +publications, largely and agreeably added to the stock of our popular +antiquities. He is the countryman of David Ritchie, and had the best +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 it +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 wrapt up with pieces of cloth. He always walked with a +sort of pole or pike-staff, considerably taller than himself. His habits +were, in many respects, singular, and indicated a mind congenial to its +uncouth tabernacle. A jealous, misanthropical, and irritable temper, +was his prominent characteristic. The sense of his deformity haunted him +like a phantom. And the insults and scorn to which this exposed him, had +poisoned his heart with fierce and bitter feelings, which, from other +points in his character, do not appear to have been more largely infused +into his original temperament than that of his fellow-men. + +“He detested children, on account of their propensity to insult and +persecute him. To strangers he was generally 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 been his greatest benefactors, and who possessed the +greatest share of his good-will, he frequently displayed much caprice +and jealousy. A lady who had known him from his infancy, and who +has furnished us in the most obliging manner with some particulars +respecting him, says, that although Davie showed 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 injured by the caterpillars. Davie, observing one of the ladies +smile, instantly assumed his savage, scowling aspect, 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 similar occasion. +Throwing back his jealous glance as he was ushering her into his garden, +he fancied he observed her spit, and exclaimed, with great ferocity, ‘Am +I a toad, woman! that ye spit at me--that ye spit at me?’ and without +listening to any answer or excuse, drove her out of his garden +with imprecations and insult. When irritated by persons for whom he +entertained little respect, his misanthropy displayed itself in words, +and sometimes in actions, of still greater rudeness; and he used on +such occasions the most unusual and singularly savage imprecations and +threats.” [SCOTS MAGAZINE, vol. lxxx. p.207.] + +Nature maintains a certain balance of good and evil in all her works; +and there is no state perhaps so utterly desolate, which does not +possess some source of gratification peculiar to itself, This poor +man, whose misanthropy was founded in a sense on his own preternatural +deformity, 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 green hill, the +bubbling of a clear fountain, or the complexities of a wild thicket, +were scenes on which he often gazed for hours, and, as he said, with +inexpressible delight. 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 +a different cast, chiefly polemical. He never went to the parish church, +and was therefore suspected of entertaining heterodox opinions, though +his objection was probably to the concourse of spectators, to whom he +must have exposed his unseemly deformity. He spoke of a future state +with intense feeling, and even with tears. He expressed disgust at the +idea, of his remains being mixed with the common rubbish, as he called +it, of the churchyard, and selected with his usual taste a beautiful and +wild spot in the glen where he had his hermitage, in which to take his +last repose. He changed his mind, however, and was finally interred in +the common burial-ground of Manor parish. + +The author has invested Wise Elshie with some qualities which made +him appear, in the eyes of the vulgar, a man possessed of supernatural +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 to be what is called uncanny. 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, especially 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, as a certain defence against +necromancy. For the same reason, doubtless, he desired to have +rowan-trees set above his grave. + +We have stated that David Ritchie loved objects of natural beauty. +His only living favourites were a dog and a cat, to which 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 brother, +sullen or bizarre. David was never affectionate to her; it was not in +his nature; but he endured her. He maintained himself and her by the +sale of the product of their garden and bee-hives; and, latterly, +they had a small allowance from the parish. Indeed, in the simple +and patriarchal state in which the country then was, persons in the +situation of David and his sister were sure to be supported. They had +only to apply to the next gentleman or respectable farmer, and were sure +to find them equally ready and willing to supply their very moderate +wants. David often received gratuities from strangers, which he never +asked, never refused, and never seemed to consider as an obligation. He +had a right, indeed, to regard himself as one of Nature’s paupers, +to whom she gave a title to be maintained by his kind, even by that +deformity which closed against him all ordinary 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 a melder of +meal, seldom failed to add a GOWPEN [Handful] to the alms-bag of the +deformed cripple. In short, David had no occasion for money, save to +purchase snuff, his only luxury, in which he indulged himself liberally. +When he died, in the beginning of the present century, he was found +to have hoarded about twenty pounds, a habit very consistent with his +disposition; for wealth is power, and power was what David Ritchie +desired to possess, as a compensation for his exclusion from human +society. + +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 of WAVERLEY and the subjects of his Novels, exposed the poor +woman to enquiries 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? To others, who pressed for some account of her parents, +she answered in the 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 happiness still to remain, connected by +ties of intimate friendship with the family of the venerable Dr. Adam +Fergusson, 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, particularly by the occasional +loan of books. Though the taste of the philosopher and the poor peasant +did not, it may be supposed, always correspond, [I remember David was +particularly anxious to see a book, which he called, I think, LETTERS TO +ELECT LADIES, and which, he said, was the best composition he had +ever read; but Dr. Fergusson’s library did not supply the volume.] Dr. +Fergusson considered him as a man of a powerful capacity and original +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 avenging itself upon society, in idea at least, by a +gloomy misanthropy. + +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, accordingly, sketched that of Elshie of the +Mucklestane-Moor. The story was intended to be longer, and the +catastrophe more artificially brought out; but 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; 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. + + + + +III. THE BLACK DWARF. + + + +CHAPTER I. + +PRELIMINARY. + + Hast any philosophy in thee, Shepherd?--AS YOU LIKE IT. + +It was a fine April morning (excepting that it had snowed hard the night +before, and the ground remained covered with a dazzling mantle of six +inches in depth) when two horsemen rode up to the Wallace Inn. The first +was a strong, tall, powerful man, in a grey riding-coat, having a hat +covered with waxcloth, 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 double-bitted military bridle. The man who accompanied him was +apparently his servant; he rode a shaggy little grey pony, had a blue +bonnet on his head, and a large check napkin folded about his neck, wore +a pair of long blue worsted hose instead of boots, had his gloveless +hands much stained with tar, and observed an air of deference 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 +principal person, and holding him by the reins as he dismounted, while +his ostler rendered the same service to the attendant, welcomed the +stranger to Gandercleugh, and, in the same breath, enquired, “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 Dwarfs 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 AND PATRON, Mr. Jedediah +Cleishbotham, “and what sort of a personage may he be?” + +[We have, in this and other instances, printed in italics (CAPITALS +in this etext) 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 been 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 which his own character and conduct should be +treated of.] + +“Hout awa, man,” answered the farmer, “ye’ll hae heard o’ Canny Elshie +the Black Dwarf, or I am muckle mistaen--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 +blackfaces--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 ye’re blithe and bien yoursell.” + +“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 o’ 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 +cracking 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, I’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. + +“It’s the woo’, man,--it’s the woo’, and no the beasts themsells, 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 langer-bodied 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 threescore 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 breakfast, and see +an’ get the yauds fed--I am for doun to Christy Wilson’s, to see if him +and me can gree about the luckpenny I am to gie him for his year-aulds. +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 took about it--I doubt we draw to a plea--But hear +ye, neighbour,” addressing my WORTHY AND LEARNED patron, “if ye want to +hear onything 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’ll ware a half mutchkin upon Bauldie +there, he’ll crack t’ye like a pen-gun. And I’se gie ye a 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 to the +mind and to the body, ALTHOUGH HE IS 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 I recollect, +was my LEARNED AND WORTHY patron falling from his chair, just as he +concluded a long lecture upon temperance, by reciting, from the “Gentle +Shepherd,” a couplet, which he RIGHT HAPPILY transferred from the vice +of avarice to that of ebriety: + + He that has just eneugh may soundly sleep, + The owercome only fashes folk to keep. + +In the course of the evening the Black Dwarf had not been forgotten, +and the old shepherd, Bauldie, told so 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 scepticism on +the subject was affected, as evincing a liberality of thinking, and a +freedom from ancient prejudices, becoming a man who paid three hundred +pounds a-year of rent, while, in fact, he had a lurking belief in the +traditions of his forefathers. After my usual manner, I made farther +enquiries 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 in the more +vulgar traditions. + +[The Black Dwarf, now almost forgotten, was once held a formidable +personage by the dalesmen of the Border, where he got the blame of +whatever mischief befell the sheep or cattle. “He was,” says Dr. Leyden, +who makes considerable use of him in the ballad called the Cowt of +Keeldar, “a fairy of the most malignant order--the genuine Northern +Duergar.” The best and most authentic account of this dangerous and +mysterious being occurs in a tale communicated to the author by that +eminent antiquary, Richard Surtees, Esq. of Mainsforth, author of the +HISTORY OF THE BISHOPRIC OF DURHAM. + +According to this well-attested legend, two young Northumbrians were +out on a shooting party, and had plunged deep among the mountainous +moorlands which border on Cumberland. They stopped for refreshment in +a little secluded dell by the side of a 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 full human size, forming a frightful contrast +with his height, which was considerably under four feet. It was thatched +with no other covering than long matted red hair, like that of the felt +of a badger in consistence, and in colour a reddish brown, like the hue +of the 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 being demanded by what +right he intruded himself on those hills, and destroyed their harmless +inhabitants. 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 of those +mountains, and the protector of the wild creatures who found a retreat +in 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 faith for his safe return. But at +this moment, the shout of the sportsman’s companion was heard calling +for his friend, and the dwarf, as if unwilling that more than one +person should be cognisant of his presence, disappeared as the young man +emerged from the dell to join his comrade. + +It was the universal opinion of those most experienced in such +matters, that if the shooter had accompanied the spirit, he would, +notwithstanding 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.] + + + +CHAPTER II. + + Will none but Hearne the Hunter serve your turn? + --MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. + +In one of the most remote districts of the south of Scotland, 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 Elliot, 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 reign 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 having been repeatedly +interrupted by the civil wars of the preceding century, were scarce yet +broken in to the habits of regular industry, sheep-farming had not been +introduced upon any considerable scale, and the feeding of black cattle +was the chief purpose to which the hills and valleys were applied. Near +to the farmer’s house, the tenant usually contrived to 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 usually employed by the +young men in hunting and fishing; and the spirit of adventure, which +formerly led to raids and forays in the same districts, was still to be +discovered in the eagerness 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 +of England, as it seemed to point at a 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 extremity of a civil +war, but by carrying through an incorporating 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. The +Cameronians were about to take arms for the restoration of the house of +Stewart, whom they regarded, with justice, as their oppressors; and +the intrigues of the period presented the strange picture of papists, +prelatists, and presbyterians, caballing among themselves against the +English government, out of a common feeling that their country had been +treated with injustice. The fermentation was universal; and, as the +population of Scotland had been generally trained 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. + +The 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 supernatural 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 who bore the +same Christian name. It cost him no efforts, therefore, to call to +memory the terrific incidents connected 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, from a huge column of +unhewn granite, which raised its massy head on a knell near the centre +of the heath, 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 scattered 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 hoofs of their diabolical +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;--for it is well known that the fiend, however +liberal in imparting 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 +a good price depended on her being first at the market. But the geese, +which had hitherto preceded her in a pretty orderly manner, when they +came to this wide common, interspersed with marshes and pools of water, +scattered in every direction, to plunge into the element in which they +delighted. Incensed at the obstinacy with which they defied all her +efforts to collect them, and not remembering the precise terms of the +contract by which the fiend was bound to obey her commands for a certain +space, the sorceress exclaimed, “Deevil, that neither I nor they ever +stir from this spot 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 of completing the ruin of +her body and 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 I am getting ane that +will last for ever.” The dimensions of the pillar, and of the stones, +were often appealed to, as a proof of the superior stature and size of +old women and geese in the days of 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 continuing to rendezvous upon the same spot, as if still in +attendance on their transformed mistress. Hobbie’s natural hardihood, +however, manfully combated with these intrusive sensations of awe. +He summoned to his side the brace of large greyhounds, 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 in Hallowe’en, whistled up the warlike ditty of Jock of the +Side, as a general causes his drums be beat to inspirit the doubtful +courage of his soldiers. + +In this state of mind, he was very glad to hear a friendly voice shout +in his rear, and propose to him a partner on the road. He slackened his +pace, and was 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, from the share his family had taken in the disturbances +of the period. They were much and generally respected in the country; +a reputation which this young gentleman seemed likely to sustain, as he +was well educated, and of excellent dispositions. + +“Now, Earnscliff;” exclaimed Hobbie, “I am glad to meet your honour +ony gate, and company’s blithe on a bare moor like this--it’s an unco +bogilly bit--Where hae ye been sporting?” + +“Up the Carla Cleugh, Hobbie,” answered Earnscliff, returning his +greeting. “But will our dogs keep the peace, think you?” + +“Deil a fear o’ mine,” said Hobbie, “they hae scarce a leg to stand +on.--Odd! the deer’s fled the country, I think! I have been as far +as Inger-fell-foot, and deil a horn has Hobbie seen, excepting three +red-wud raes, that never let me within shot of them, though I gaed +a mile round to get up the wind to them, an’ a’. Deil o’ me wad care +muckle, only I wanted some venison to our auld gude-dame. The carline, +she sits in the neuk yonder, upbye, and cracks about the grand shooters +and hunters lang syne--Odd, 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 Earnscliff this +morning--you shall have half of him for your grandmother.” + +“Mony thanks to ye, Mr. Patrick, ye’re kend to a’ the country for a kind +heart. It will do the auld wife’s heart gude--mair by token, 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. I 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 kept my mother much in Edinburgh for +several years,” said Earnscliff; “but I promise you I propose to make up +for lost time.” + +“And ye’ll rig out the auld tower a bit,” said Hobbie, “and live +hearty and neighbour-like wi’ the auld family friends, as the Laird o’ +Earnscliff 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 +sometimes 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.” + +“I 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 say that Ellieslaw’s friend stickit your +sire after the laird himsell had mastered his sword.” + +“Fie, fie, Hobbie; it was a foolish brawl, occasioned by wine and +politics--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.” + +“O 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 was nae +thinking o’ the like o’ them--But I can 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 you sae sober.” + +“I assure you, Hobbie,” said his companion, rather angrily, “I assure +you you are mistaken; and it is extremely wrong of you, either to think +of, or to utter, such an idea; I have no idea of permitting freedoms to +be carried so far as to connect my name with that of any young lady.” + +“Why, there now--there now!” retorted Elliot; “did I not say it was nae +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 Ellieslaw has the auld riding blood far hetter at his heart than ye +hae--troth, he kens naething about thae newfangled notions o’ peace and +quietness--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 in +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 out-break in the country, he’s +likely to break out wi’ the first--and weel does he mind the auld +quarrels between ye, I’m surmizing 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 old tower good against him, as it has +been made 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 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 Earnscliff; “but I hope we shall have no +war of so unnatural and unchristian 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 Loudon folk--we haena sae muckle to do. It’s +impossible.” + +“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 audaciously, considering where we are walking.” + +“What needs I care for the Mucklestane-Moor ony mair than ye do +yoursell, Earnscliff?” said Hobbie, something 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? I hae a good conscience, and little +to answer for, unless it be about a rant amang 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 and as peaceable--” + +“And Dick Turnbull’s head that you broke, and Willie of Winton whom you +shot at?” said his travelling companion. + +“Hout, Earnscliff, ye keep a record of a’ men’s misdoings--Dick’s head’s +healed again, and we’re to fight out the quarrel at Jeddart, on the +Rood-day, so that’s like a thing settled in a peaceable way; and then I +am friends wi’ Willie again, puir chield--it was but twa or three hail +draps after a’. I wad let onybody do the like o’t to me for a pint o’ +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--” + +“As is not unlikely,” said young Earnscliff, “for there stands your old +witch, Hobbie.” + +“I say,” continued Elliot, as if indignant at this hint--“I say, if the +auld carline hersell was to get up out o’ the grund just before us here, +I would think nae mair--But, gude preserve us, Earnscliff; what can yon, +be!” + + + +CHAPTER III. + + 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 + +The 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 light. By one of her beams, which streamed upon +the great granite column to which they now approached, they discovered +a form, apparently human, but of a size much less than ordinary, which +moved slowly among the large grey stones, not like a person intending +to journey onward, but with the slow, irregular, flitting movement of a +being who hovers around some spot of melancholy recollection, 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 +Elliot, making a dead pause, while his hair erected itself upon his +scalp, whispered to his companion, “It’s Auld Ailie hersell! Shall I gie +her a shot, in the name of God?” + +“For Heaven’s sake, no,” said his companion, holding down the weapon +which he was about to raise to the aim--“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--God! she’s in nae hurry,” continued he, +growing bolder from his companion’s confidence, 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.” [The Scots use +the epithet soft, IN MALAM PARTEM, in two cases, at least. A SOFT road +is a road through quagmire and bogs; and SOFT weather signifies that +which is very rainy.] + +Earnscliff, however, in spite of his companion’s resistance 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 decrease 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 pinches 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 preternatural +exterior. To the third repeated demand of “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 at them that ask nought at +you.” + +“What do you do here so far from shelter? Are you benighted on your +journey? Will you follow us home [‘God forbid!’ ejaculated Hobbie +Elliot, involuntarily), and I will give you a lodging?” + +“I would sooner lodge by mysell in the deepest of the Tarras-flow,” + again whispered Hobbie. + +“Pass on your way,” rejoined the figure, the harsh tones of his voice +still more exalted by passion. “I want not 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.” + +“He is mad,” said Earnscliff. + +“He has a look of auld Humphrey Ettercap, the tinkler, 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 pour +human voices goes through my ears like sharp bodkins.” + +“Lord safe us!” whispered Hobbie, “that the dead should bear sie fearfu’ +ill-will to the living!--his saul 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 allow us to leave you here.” + +“Common humanity!” exclaimed the being, with a scornful laugh that +sounded like a shriek, “where got ye that catch-word--that noose for +woodcocks--that common disguise for man-traps--that bait which the +wretched idiot who 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!” + +“I 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.” + +“I’ll 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 Earnscliff observed +that he held out his 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 language, especially as +it was plain he would have little aid from his companion, who had fairly +left him to settle matters with the apparition as he could, and had +proceeded a few paces on his way homeward. Earnscliff, however, turned +and followed Hobbie, after looking back towards the supposed maniac, +who, as if raised to frenzy by the interview, roamed wildly around the +great stone, exhausting his voice in shrieks and imprecations, that +thrilled wildly along the waste heath. + +The two sportsmen moved on some time in silence, until they were out +of hearing of these uncouth sounds, 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, I’ll uphaud that yon ghaist, if it +be a ghaist, has baith done and suffered 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 Earnscliff; +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, I’se 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, I’ll be obliged to you to send the boy as you +propose.” + +“Aweel, that IS 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 farther, when, +coming to the ridge of a pretty steep hill, Hobbie Elliot exclaimed, +“Now, Earnscliff, I am aye glad when I come to this very bit--Ye see +the light below, that’s in the ha’ window, where grannie, the gash auld +carline, is sitting birling at her wheel--and ye see yon other light +that’s gaun whiddin’ back and forrit through amang the windows? that’s +my cousin, Grace Armstrong,--she’s twice 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 wait 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 can do.” + +“You are lucky, my good friend, in having so many valuable relations.” + +“Troth am I--Grace make me thankful, I’se never deny it.--But will +ye tell me now, Earnscliff, you that have been at college, and the +high-school of Edinburgh, and got a’ 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, +bargaining about it at the Winter fair, and troth they 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 Gospel authorities half sae weel +as our minister--our minister is thought the best divine and the best +preacher atween this and Edinburgh--Dinna ye think he was likely to be +right?” + +“Certainly marriage, by all protestant Christians, is held to be as free +as God made it by the Levitical law; so, Hobbie, there can be no bar, +legal or religious, betwixt you and Miss Armstrong.” + +“Hout awa’ wi’ your joking, Earnscliff,” replied his companion,--“ye +are angry aneugh yoursell if ane touches you a bit, man, on the sooth +side of the jest--No that I was asking the question about Grace, for ye +maun ken she’s no my cousin-germain out and out, but the daughter of +my uncle’s wife by her first marriage, so she’s nae kith nor kin to +me--only a connexion like. But now we’re at the Sheeling-hill--I’ll 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 Earnscliff, which seemed to glide from the +house towards some of the outhouses-“That’s Grace hersell,” said Hobbie. +“She’ll no meet me at the door, I’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!” + +This observation was uttered with something like a sigh, which +apparently did not escape the ear of his companion. + +“Hout, other folk may be as lucky as I 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 of +the proposition, or rebuking the application of it, could not easily be +discovered; and it seems probable that the speaker himself was willing +his meaning should rest in doubt and obscurity. They had now descended +the broad loaning, which, winding round the foot of the steep bank, +or heugh, brought them in 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 appearance of a +stranger blunted many a gibe which had 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, while probably all were +anxious to escape for the purpose of making some little personal +arrangements, before presenting themselves to a young gentleman in a +dishabille only 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 +compared 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 homespun wool, but with a +large gold necklace and ear-rings, looked, what she really was, the lady +as well as the farmer’s wife, while, seated in her chair of wicker, by +the corner of the great chimney, she directed the evening 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.” [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.] + +“Ay, or the low of the candle, if the wind wad let it hide 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 carrying calves.” + +“I wish they had left some for us then, grannie,” retorted Hobbie; +“they’ve cleared the country o’ them, thae auld friends o’ yours, I’m +thinking.” + +“We see other folk can find game, though you cannot, Hobbie,” said the +eldest sister, glancing a look at young Earnscliff. + +“Weel, weel, woman, hasna every dog his day, begging Earnscliff’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, I +winna say that neither but mistrysted wi’ bogles in the hame-coming, an’ +then to hae to flyte wi’ 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. + +“I did not say frighted, now--I only said mis-set wi’ the thing--And +there was but ae bogle, neither--Earnscliff, 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 it +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 gude 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 o’ Dunbar, and, in my ain time, he was seen about +the time o’ Bothwell-Brigg, and they said the second-sighted Laird of +Benarbuck had a communing 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 purpose of +returning to the spot the next day. + +“O, 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 wi’ +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 +adventures--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 daylight?” + +“I dinna ken,” said the good old dame; “I wad never bid son or friend o’ +mine haud their hand back in a gude cause, whether it were a friend’s or +their ain--that should be by nae bidding of mine, or of ony body that’s +come of a gentle kindred--But it winna gang out of a grey head like +mine, that to gang to seek for evil that’s no fashing wi’ you, is clean +against law and Scripture.” + +Earnscliff 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 without +a conscious glance at Earnscliff, 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 +apparition 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. + + + +CHAPTER IV. + + I am Misanthropos, and hate mankind; + For thy part, I do wish thou wert a dog, + That I might love thee something.--TIMON 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. + +“Ye’ll 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 amaist for you as +for me. But d’ye really think there’s nae presumption in venturing back +yonder?--We hae nae special commission, ye ken.” + +“If I thought as you do, Hobbie,” said the young gentleman, “I would not +perhaps enquire farther into this business; but as I am of opinion that +preternatural visitations are either ceased altogether, or become very +rare in our days, I am unwilling to leave a matter uninvestigated 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 [Curlew] +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 creature creeping about +yet!--But it’s daylight, 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, in the name of wonder, +what can he be doing there?” + +“Biggin a dry-stane dyke, I think, wi’ the grey geese, as they ca’ thae +great loose stanes--Odd, that passes a’ 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 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 straining +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 Herculean 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. + +“I am amaist persuaded it’s the ghaist of a stane-mason--see siccan +band-statnes as he’s laid i--An it be a man, after a’, I 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 with age; his eyebrows, +shaggy and prominent, overhung a pair of small dark, piercing eyes, +set far back in their sockets, that rolled with a portentous wildness, +indicative of a partial insanity. The rest of his features were of the +coarse, rough-hewn 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 a man 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, so 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. On 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 features, 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 Earnscliff, willing to soothe him into better +temper, observed, “You are hard tasked, my friend; allow us to assist +you.” + +Elliot and he accordingly placed the stone, by their joint efforts, upon +the rising wall. The Dwarf watched them with the eye of a taskmaster, +and testified, by peevish gestures, his impatience at the time which +they took in adjusting the stone. He pointed to another--they raised it +also--to a third, to a fourth--they continued 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 be ye waur, deil be in my fingers if I break +my back wi’ heaving thae stanes ony langer like a barrow-man, without +getting sae muckle as thanks for my pains.” + +“Thanks!” exclaimed the Dwarf, with a motion expressive 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.” + +“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 dispatched 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 +figure, 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 supernatural. 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 small, 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 construction. +Earnscliff; attentive to his motions, no sooner perceived 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, +resolving next day to send workmen to put them up. But his purpose was +anticipated, for in the evening, during the night, and early in 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; until, by transporting mould, and +working up what was upon the spot, he formed a patch of garden-ground. +It must be naturally supposed, that, as above hinted, this solitary +being received assistance occasionally from such travellers as crossed +the moor by chance, as well as from several who went from curiosity to +visit his works. It was, indeed, impossible to see a human creature, so +unfitted, at first sight, for hard labour, toiling with such unremitting +assiduity, without stopping a few minutes to aid him in his task; and, +as no one of his occasional assistants was acquainted with the degree +of help which the Dwarf had received from others, the celerity of his +progress lost none of its marvels in their eyes. The strong and compact +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,--an 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 communication 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 disappeared as soon as they +approached closer to the cottage. Such a figure was also occasionally +seen sitting beside him at the door, walking with him in the moor, or +assisting him in fetching water from his fountain. Earnscliff explained +this phenomenon by supposing it to be the Dwarf’s shadow. + +“Deil a shadow has he,” replied Hobbie Elliot, who was a strenuous +defender of the general opinion; “he’s ower far in wi’ the Auld Ane to +have a shadow. Besides,” he argued more logically, “wha ever heard of a +shadow that cam between a body and the sun? and this thing, be it what +it will, is thinner and taller than the body himsell, and has been seen +to come between him and the sun mair than anes or twice either.” + +These suspicions, which, in any other part of the country, might have +been attended with investigations a little inconvenient to the supposed +wizard, were here only productive of respect and awe. The recluse being +seemed somewhat gratified by the marks of timid veneration with which +an occasional passenger approached his dwelling, 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 +glance 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 +enquiring after the solitary inmate, who seemed now to have arranged his +establishment for life. + +It was impossible to engage him in any conversation on his own personal +affairs; nor was he communicative or accessible 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 upon 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 their diseases, or those of their cattle. He +often furnished them with medicines also, and seemed possessed, 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 popular epithet soon came to be Canny Elshie, or the +Wise Wight of Mucklestane-Moor. Some extended their queries beyond their +bodily complaints, and requested advice upon other matters, which he +delivered with an oracular shrewdness that greatly confirmed the opinion +of his possessing 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 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 an a broad flat stone +near his garden door, which was the seat of science he usually occupied +when disposed to receive his patients or clients. The inside of his hut, +and that of his garden, he kept as sacred from human intrusion as the +natives of Otaheite do their Morai;--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 to make himself visible, +or to give audience to any one whomsoever. + +Earnscliff had been fishing in a small river at some distance. 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 at 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.” + +“I cannot defend the humanity of our ordinary rural 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-creatures. 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-fed 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, +to 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 whom your misanthropy slanders.” + +“I do; but why?--Hearken. You are one on whom I look with the least +loathing, and I care not, if, contrary to my wont, I waste a few words +in compassion to 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 who can serve the purpose of +destruction as effectually?--If Alice of Bower had died in winter, would +young Ruthwin have been slain for her love the last spring?--Who +thought of penning their cattle beneath the tower when the Red Reiver of +Westburnflat was deemed to be on his death-bed?--My draughts, my skill, +recovered him. And, now, who dare leave his herd upon the lea without a +watch, or go to bed without unchaining the sleuth-hound?” + +“I 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 domesticated, for lack of opportunity to +exercise his inborn propensities; but let the trumpet of war sound--let +the young blood-hound snuff blood, he will be as ferocious as the +wildest of his Border ancestors that ever fired a helpless peasant’s +abode. Can you deny, that even at present he often urges you to take +bloody revenge for an injury received when you were a boy?”--Earnscliff +started; the Recluse appeared not to observe his surprise, and +proceeded--“The trumpet WILL blow, the young blood-hound WILL lap blood, +and I will laugh and say, For this I have 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 sick bed, I might, in +compassion, send you a cup of poison.” + +“I am 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 to endure the miseries of life as you are, from +the wretchedness which his own visions, and the villainy of the world, +are preparing for him? Why should I play the compassionate Indian, and, +knocking out the brains of the captive with my tomahawk, at once spoil +the three days’ amusement of my kindred tribe, at the very moment when +the brands were lighted, the pincers heated, the cauldrons boiling, +the knives sharpened, to tear, scorch, seethe, and scarify the intended +victim?” + +“A dreadful picture you present to me of life, Elshie; 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. The active day +has its evening of repose; even patient sufferance has its alleviations, +where there is a consolatory sense of duty discharged.” + +“I 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 completely 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 villainy; he +should be the centre of a whirlpool that itself should know neither rest +nor peace, but boil with unceasing fury, while it wrecked every goodly +ship that approached its limits! he should be an earthquake capable +of shaking the very land in which he dwelt, and rendering all its +inhabitants friendless, outcast, and miserable--as I 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, pondering what strange +and melancholy cause could have reduced 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. + +“It 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.” + + + +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 sear’d to human pleasure, + Melts at the tear, joys in the smile, of woman.--BEAUMONT + +As the season advanced, the weather became more genial, and the Recluse +was more frequently found occupying 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, in 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 deformed. The second, with a hysterical giggle, +which she intended should disguise her terrors, asked the 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. + +“We have lost the right path that leads through these morasses, and our +party have gone forward without us,” said the young lady. “Seeing you, +father, at the door of your house, we have turned this way to--” + +“Hush!” interrupted the Dwarf; “so young, and already so artful? 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 +deformity. It is a fit employment for the daughter of your father; but O +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 waking 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 enough.” + +“As surely,” continued the Recluse, “as thou art a woman.--A woman!--I +should have said a lady--a fine lady. You asked me to tell your +fortune--it is a simple one; an endless chase through life after follies +not worth catching, 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 in childhood--love and its absurdities +in youth--spadille and basto in age, shall succeed each other as +objects of pursuit--flowers and butterflies in spring--butterflies +and thistle-down in summer--withered leaves in autumn and winter--all +pursued, all caught, all flung aside.--Stand apart; your fortune is +said.” + +“All CAUGHT, however,” retorted the laughing fair one, who was a cousin +of Miss Vere’s; “that’s something, 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, “I’ll keep my money, Mr. Elshender, to +assist me in the chase I am to pursue.” + +“You will need it,” replied the cynic; “without it, few 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 your companions would wish to have, or be thought to +have,--beauty, wealth, station, accomplishments.” + +“Forgive my following my companions, father; I am proof both to flattery +and fortune-telling.” + +“Stay,” continued the Dwarf, with his hand on her horse’s rein, “I am +no common soothsayer, and I am no flatterer. All the advantages I +have detailed, all and each of them have their corresponding +evils--unsuccessful love, 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 in 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 I have power to offer; do this for my sake, if not for +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 good deed receive this token +of gratitude. It is but a common rose; preserve it, however, and do not +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 exclaimed, rising +into his usual mood of misanthropy,--“no message--no go-between! Come +thyself; and the heart and the 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-cock; +her eyes wound the gallant; no chance for her poor companions and +kinswomen; even the conjuror cannot escape the force of her charms. You +should, in compassion, cease to be such an engrosser, my dear Isabel, or +at least set up shop, and sell off all the goods you do not mean to keep +for your own use.” + +“You shall have them all,” replied Miss Vere, “and the conjuror to boot, +at a very easy rate.” + +“No! Nancy shall have the conjuror,” said Miss Ilderton, “to supply +deficiencies; she’s not quite a witch herself, you know.” + +“Lord, 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 I could.” + +“That’s a pity,” said her sister; “ever while you live, Nancy, choose an +admirer whose faults can be hid by winking at them.--Well, then, I must +take him myself, I suppose, and put him into mamma’s Japan cabinet, +in 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 in 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,” rejoined her sister, “I +would have him trust to his magic natural, and thrust his enormous head, +and most preternatural visage, out at his door or window, full in view +of the assailants. The boldest robber that ever rode would hardly bide a +second glance of him. Well, I wish I had the use of that Gorgon head of +his for only one half hour.” + +“For what purpose, Lucy?” said Miss Vere. + +“O! I would frighten out of the castle that dark, stiff, 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, NO, NO, NO, three times, each louder 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--” + +“I 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 Ilderton, “I would threaten him with a protestant +son-in-law, and be glad of an opportunity to disobey him for conscience’ +sake. And now that Nancy is out of hearing, let me really say, I +think you would be excusable before God and man for resisting this +preposterous match by every means in your power. A proud, dark, +ambitious man; a caballer against the state; infamous for his avarice +and severity; a bad son, a bad brother, unkind and ungenerous to all his +relatives--Isabel, 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!” answered 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.” + +“I 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 gloom 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 gentlemen have not kept all the policy to +themselves; and there is one associate that I would gladly admit to our +counsel.” + +“Not Nancy?” + +“O, no!” said Miss Ilderton; “Nancy, though an excellent 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 Jaffier, or Pierre, if you like the character better; and yet +though I know I shall please you, I am 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 Earnscliff, Lucy?” said Miss Vere, blushing +deeply. + +“And whom else should I mean,” said Lucy. “Jaffiers and Pierres are very +scarce in this country, I take it, though one could find Renaults and +Bedamars enow.” + +“How call 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 +vivid conjectures and fancies--besides all this, there is the fatal +brawl!” + +“When his father was killed?” said Lucy. “But that 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 nowadays +as with our clothes; cut them out for ourselves, and wear them out in +our own day, and should no more think of resenting our fathers’ feuds, +than of wearing their slashed doublets and trunk-hose.” + +“You treat this far too lightly, Lucy,” answered Miss Vere. + +“Not a bit, my dear Isabella,” said Lucy. “Consider, your father, though +present in the unhappy affray, is never supposed to have struck the +fatal blow; besides, in 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 +reconciliation. 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 Earnscliff; from the very obstacle which you +suppose so insurmountable.” + +“But these are not the days of romance, but of sad reality, 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 would 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 qualified to express the harsher passions, and she was +compelled to receive the unwelcome assiduities of her detested suitor. + + + +CHAPTER VI. + + Let not us that are squires of the night’s body be called + thieves of the day’s booty; let us be Diana’s foresters, + gentlemen of the shade, minions of the moon. + --HENRY THE FOURTH, PART I. + +The Solitary had consumed the remainder of that day in which he had the +interview with the young ladies, within the precincts of his garden. +Evening again found him seated on his favourite stone. The sun setting +red, and among seas of rolling clouds, threw a gloomy lustre over the +moor, and gave a deeper purple to the broad outline of heathy mountains +which surrounded this desolate spot. The Dwarf sate watching the clouds +as they lowered above each other in masses of conglomerated vapours, +and, as a strong lurid beam of the sinking luminary 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 towards the scowling and blackening +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 embarrassment. + +The figure of the rider was thin, tall, and slender, but remarkably +athletic, bony, and sinewy; like one who had all his life followed those +violent exercises which prevent 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 alternately to +predominate over the others. Sandy-coloured hair, and reddish eyebrows, +from under which looked forth his sharp grey eyes, completed the +inauspicious outline of the horseman’s physiognomy. He had pistols in +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 broadsword 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 Elshender. + +“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 a wolf from his +appetite for carnage, or a raven from her scent of slaughter, as thee +from thy accursed propensities.” + +“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 +high, taking 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 guess?” + +“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.” + +“I 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--lever 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 Earnscliff 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 skelping about here, destroying the +few deer that are left in the country, and pretending to act as a +magistrate, and writing letters to the great folk at Auld Reekie, about +the disturbed state of the land. Let him take care o’ himsell.” + +“Then it must be Hobbie of the Heugh-foot,” said Elshie. “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 a’ his clan’s. But it’s not so much for that, as to gie him +a lesson not to let his tongue gallop ower freely about his betters. I +trow he will hae lost the best pen-feather o’ his wing 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-craft.” + +Ere the Dwarf could collect himself to reply, the Reiver of Westburnflat +set spurs to his horse. The animal, 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 ground +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 cool-blooded, hardened, +unrelenting ruffian,--that wretch, whose every thought is infected with +crimes,--has thewes and sinews, limbs, strength, and activity enough, to +compel a nobler animal than himself to carry him to the place where he +is to perpetrate his wickedness; while I, had I the weakness to wish to +put his wretched victim on his guard, and to save the helpless family, +would see my good 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 workmanship 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 reaped--by all the wrongs which I have sustained--by my +imprisonment, my stripes, my chains, I will wrestle down my feelings of +rebellious humanity! I will 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 sympathy with any +one. Let Destiny drive forth her scythed car through the overwhelmed and +trembling mass of humanity! Shall I be the idiot to throw this decrepit +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 frame, and all the world clap their hands at the +exchange? No, never!--And yet this Elliot--this Hobbie, so young and +gallant, so frank, so--I will think of it no longer. I cannot aid him if +I 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 +at brief intervals, echoing and re-echoing among the range of heathy +fells like the sound of a distant engagement. + + + +CHAPTER VII. + + 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. + +The 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 inexpressible 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 their industry. As the old +man crept out of his little hut, his two she-goats came to meet him, and +licked his hands in gratitude 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 accustomed. While I was in +the world, did I ever meet with such a 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 fortune, and +for whose sake I had even stained--(he stopped with a strong convulsive +shudder), even he thought me more fit for the society of lunatics--for +their 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 ingratitude--wretches, who sin even in their devotions; +and of such hardness of heart, that they do not, without hypocrisy, 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 enclosure, and a strong clear bass voice +singing with the liveliness inspired by a light heart, + + Canny Hobbie Elliot, canny Hobbie now, + Canny Hobbie Elliot, I’se gang alang wi’ you. + +At the same moment, a large deer greyhound sprung over the hermit’s +fence. It is well known to the sportsmen 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 animal +from 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 stretched out her limbs with the twitches and shivering +fit of the last agony. He then started into an access of frenzy, and +unsheathing a long sharp knife, or dagger, which he wore under his +coat, he was about to launch it at the dog, when Hobbie, perceiving his +purpose, interposed, and caught hold of his hand, exclaiming, “Let a be +the hound, man--let a be the hound!--Na, na, Killbuck maunna 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, discomposure, and +disdain, at having been placed in such danger by an object apparently so +contemptible. + +“The deil’s in the body for strength and bitterness!” were the first +words that escaped him, which he followed up with an apology for the +accident that had given rise to their disagreement. “I am no justifying +Killbuck a’thegither neither, and I am sure it is as vexing to me as to +you, Elshie, that the mischance should hae happened; but I’ll send you +twa goats and twa fat gimmers, man, to make a’ straight again. A wise +man like you shouldna bear malice against a poor dumb thing; ye see that +a goat’s like first-cousin to a deer, sae he acted but according to his +nature after a’. Had it been a pet-lamb, there wad hae been mair to be +said. Ye suld keep sheep, Elshie, and no goats, where there’s sae mony +deerhounds about--but I’ll send ye baith.” + +“Wretch!” said the Hermit, “your cruelty has destroyed one of the only +creatures in existence that would look on me with kindness!” + +“Dear Elshie,” answered Hobbie, “I’m wae ye suld hae cause to say sae; +I’m sure it wasna wi’ my will. And yet, it’s true, I should hae minded +your goats, and coupled up the dogs. I’m sure I would rather they had +worried the primest wether in my faulds.--Come, man, forget and forgie. +I’m e’en as vexed as ye can be--But I am a bridegroom, ye see, and that +puts a’ things out o’ 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, as the sang +says; they couldna come the straight road for the saft grund. I wad send +ye a 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 +meditation, 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 happy (those who are idiots +enough to think themselves happy) insult the misery and diminish the +consolation of the wretched.--Go hence, thou who hast contrived to give +an additional pang to the most miserable of human beings--thou who hast +deprived me of what I half considered as a source of comfort. Go hence, +and enjoy the happiness prepared for thee at home!” + +“Never stir,” said Hobbie, “if I wadna take you wi’ 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.” + +“Is it to me you propose once more to mix in the society of the common +herd?” 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.” + +“I wish ye wadna speak that gate,” said Hobbie. “Ye ken yoursell, +Elshie, naebody judges you to be ower canny; now, I’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, I’ll no forget wha it is that it’s owing to.” + +“Out, hind!” exclaimed the Dwarf; “home! home to your dwelling, and +think on me when you find what has befallen there.” + +“Aweel, aweel,” said Hobbie, mounting his horse, “it serves naething to +strive wi’ cripples,--they are aye cankered; but I’ll just tell ye +ae thing, neighbour, that if 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 freebooter; “When I +ride, my foes may moan. They have had mair light than comfort at the +Heugh-foot this morning; 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 for a blink. I am thinking it wad concern my safety if she were +to come back here, for there’s mony o’ the Elliots, 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 it. But they say +they can whiles get folk cannily away to the plantations from some of +the outports, and something 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? [ The +place of execution at that ancient burgh, where many of Westburnflat’s +profession have made their final exit.] And yet I rue something for the +bit lassie; but he’ll get anither, and little skaith dune--ane is as +gude as anither. And now, you that like to hear o’ splores, heard ye +ever o’ 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, go 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 discharged free and uninjured; return +her to her friends, and let her swear not to discover thy villainy.” + +“Swear,” said Westburnflat; “but what if she break her aith? Women are +not famous for keeping their plight. A wise man like you should ken +that.--And uninjured--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 the 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 knowest I am not to be fooled by thy treachery; if thou +darest to disobey my directions, thy wretched life, be sure, shall +answer it.” + +“I 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 foresight; and the gold is shelled down when ye command, as +fast as I have seen the ash-keys fall in a frosty morning in October. I +will not disobey you.” + +“Begone, then, and relieve me of thy hateful presence.” + +The robber set spurs to his horse, and rode off without reply. + +Hobbie Elliot had, in the meanwhile, pursued his journey 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 +habitation, 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 dearly intimate to be broken; and it usually happened, in +the course of years, that the nurse became a resident in the family +of her foster-son, assisting in the domestic duties, and receiving all +marks of attention and regard from the heads of the family. So soon +as Hobbie recognised 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 door-stane for ordinar?--Hout, it will just be to get +crane-berries, or whortle-berries, or some such stuff, out of the moss, +to make the pies and tarts for the feast on Monday.--I cannot 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 volume, 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 forward--it’s a sight +to kill onybody, let alane thee.” + +“In God’s name, what’s the matter?” said the astonished horseman, +endeavouring to extricate his bridle from the grasp of the old woman; +“for Heaven’s sake, let me go 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 stack-yard lying in the red ashes, and the gear a’ +driven away. But 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 warlock are knelling in my ears!” + +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. The turf-stack, the barn-yard, the +offices stocked with cattle, all the wealth of an upland cultivator of +the period, of which poor Elliot possessed no common share, had +been laid waste or carried off in a single night. He stood a moment +motionless, and then exclaimed, “I am ruined--ruined to the ground!--But +curse on the warld’s gear--Had it not been the week before 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 suppress 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 clamorous +for revenge, although they knew not upon whom; the elder were taking +measures for the relief of the distressed family. Annaple’s cottage, +which was situated down the brook, at some distance from the scene of +mischief, had been hastily adapted for the temporary accommodation +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. + +“Are we to stand here a’ day, sirs,” exclaimed 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?” + +“It’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 Cumberland 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 two pacificated +countries?” + +“And what signifies deaving us wi’ tales about our 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?” + +“I am no saying onything 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 following a fray across the Border. +Tam o’ Whittram kend a’ about it; but he died in the hard winter.” + +“Ay,” said a third, “he was at the great gathering, when they chased as +far as Thirlwall; it was the year after the fight of Philiphaugh.” + +“Hout,” exclaimed another of these discording counsellors, “there’s nae +great skill needed; just put a lighted peat on the end of a spear, or +hayfork, or siclike, and 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 nae 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 applause 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 neighbours and kinsmen mutely expressed their +sympathy in his misfortune. While he pressed Simon of Hackburn’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 objects of his enquiry; and +with a similar feeling, his kinsmen, without reply, pointed to the hut, +into which Hobbie precipitated himself with the desperate air of one who +is resolved to know the worst at once. A general and powerful expression +of sympathy accompanied him. “Ah, puir fallow--puir Hobbie!” + +“He’ll learn the warst o’t now!” + +“But I trust Earnscliff will get some speerings o’ the puir lassie.” + +Such were the exclamations of the group, who, having no 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 themselves upon him, and almost stifled him +with their caresses, as if to prevent his looking round to distinguish +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 sisters by the hand, while +the third hung about his neck--“I see you--I count you--my grandmother, +Lilias, Jean, and Annot; but where is--” (he hesitated, 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 daffing now.” + +“O, brother!” and “Our poor Grace!” was the only answer his questions +could procure, till his grandmother rose up, and gently disengaged +him from the weeping girls, led him to a seat, and with the affecting +serenity which sincere piety, like oil sprinkled on the waves, can throw +over the most acute feelings, she said, “My bairn, when thy grandfather +was killed in the wars, and left me with six orphans around me, with +scarce bread to eat, or a roof to cover us, I had strength,--not of mine +own--but I had strength given me to say, The Lord’s will be done!--My +son, our peaceful house was last night broken 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.” + +“O, my child, before you run on danger, let me hear you but say, HIS +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 comfort you.” + +“May He go forth--may He go forth with you, my dear bairn; and O, may He +give you cause to say on your return, HIS name be praised!” + +“Farewell, mother!--farewell, my dear sisters!” exclaimed Elliot, and +rushed out of the house. + + + +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 o’ me.--Border Ballad. + +“Horse! horse! and spear!” exclaimed Hobbie to his kinsmen. Many a ready +foot was in the stirrup; and, while Elliot hastily collected arms and +accoutrements, no easy matter in such a confusion, the glen resounded +with the approbation of his younger friends. + +“Ay, ay!” 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, Hobbie?--O, callants, dinna +be ower hasty,” said old Dick of the Dingle. + +“What signifies preaching to us, e’enow?” said Simon; “if ye canna make +help yoursell, dinna keep back them that can.” + +“Whisht, sir; wad ye take vengeance or ye ken wha has wrang’d ye?” + +“D’ye think we dinna ken the road to England as weel as our fathers +before us?--All evil comes out o’ thereaway--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. + +“I’ll prick them out through the blindest moor in the Border, an there +had been a fair held there the day before,” said Hugh, the blacksmith of +Ringleburn, “for I aye 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--I’ll hae it frae him, if I should cut it out o’ his mis-shapen +bouk wi’ my whinger.” He then hastily gave directions to his comrades: +“Four o’ ye, wi’ Simon, haud right forward to Graeme’s-gap. If they’re +English, they’ll be for being back that way. The rest disperse +by twasome 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! I’ll ride ower Mucklestane-Moor mysell.” + +“And if I were you,” said Dick of the Dingle, “I would speak to Canny +Elshie. He can tell you whatever betides in this land, if he’s sae +minded.” + +“He SHALL tell me,” said Hobbie, who was busy putting his arms in order, +“what he kens o’ this night’s job, or I shall right weel ken wherefore +he does not.” + +“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 time to consider 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 authors of his misfortunes. Hobbie, though blunt, plain of speech, +and hot of disposition, like most of his countrymen, was by no means +deficient in the shrewdness which is also their characteristic. He +reflected, that from what he had observed on the memorable night when +the Dwarf was first seen, and from the conduct of that mysterious being +ever since, he was likely to be rendered even more obstinate in his +sullenness by threats and violence. + +“I’ll speak him fair,” he said, “as auld Dickon advised me. Though folk +say he has a league wi’ Satan, he canna be sic an incarnate devil as no +to take some pity in a case like mine; and folk threep he’ll whiles do +good, charitable sort o’ things. I’ll keep my heart doun as weel 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 enclosures. + +“He’s gotten into his very keep,” said Hobbie, “maybe to be out o’ +the gate; but I’se 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. “Elshie, my gude friend!” No reply. “Elshie, canny Father +Elshie!” The Dwarf remained mute. “Sorrow be in the crooked carcass of +thee!” said the Borderer between his teeth; and then again attempting a +soothing tone,--“Good Father Elshie, a most miserable creature desires +some counsel of your wisdom.” + +“The better!” answered the shrill and discordant voice of the Dwarf +through a very small window, resembling an arrow slit, 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?” + +“And do you not hear me tell you it is so much the better! and did I +not tell you this morning, when you thought yourself so happy, what an +evening was coming upon you?” + +“That ye did e’en,” replied Hobbie, “and that gars 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 crushed 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 the tone of deepest emotion--and there followed a long +pause, for the mention of his bride’s name had overcome the more angry +and irritable feelings 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 it 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; return twice as wealthy as thou wert +before yesterday, and torment me no more with questions, complaints, or +thanks; they are alike odious to me.” + +“It is a’ gowd, by Heaven!” said Elliot, having glanced at the contents; +and then again addressing the Hermit, “Muckle obliged for your goodwill; +and I wad blithely 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.” + +“Ignorant idiot!” retorted the Dwarf; “the trash is as 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 +consulting 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 but gie me speerings o’ puir Grace, I would +be content to be your slave for life, in onything 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 enough of woes of thine own, but must needs seek to +burden thyself with those of a partner, seek her whom thou hast lost in +the WEST.” + +“In the WEST? That’s a wide word.” + +“It is the last,” said the Dwarf, “which I design to utter;” and he drew +the shutters of his window, leaving Hobbie to make the most of the hint +he had given. + +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.--West!--By My life, it must be Westburnflat. +“Elshie, just tell me one word. Am I right? Is it Westburnflat? If I +am wrang, say sae. I wadna like to wyte an innocent neighbour wi’ +violence--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 o’ us--I +am thinking he’ll hae some better backing than his Cumberland +friends.--Fareweel to you, Elshie, and mony thanks--I downa be fashed +wi’ 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 I’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 wi’ him.” + +And off rode Hobbie Elliot towards the place of rendezvous which he had +named to his friends. + +Four or five riders were already gathered at the Trysting pool. They +stood in close consultation together, while their horses were permitted +to graze among the poplars which 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 together 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, or love of plunder; and +Earnscliff was now disposed to regard it as a symptom of civil war. +The young gentleman 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 Elliot, “if auld Ellieslaw +is not at the bottom o’ the haill villainy! Ye see he’s leagued wi’ the +Cumberland Catholics; and that agrees weel wi’ what Elshie hinted about +Westburnflat, 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 proceed 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 level. 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 so numerous +upon the Borders. The ground upon which it stood was gently elevated +above the marsh for the space of about a hundred yards, affording +an esplanade of dry turf, which extended itself in the immediate +neighbourhood of the tower; but, beyond which, the surface presented to +strangers was that of an impassable and dangerous bog. The owner of the +tower and his inmates alone knew the winding and intricate paths, which, +leading over ground that was comparatively sound, admitted visitors +to his residence. But among the 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 +prevented his being looked on with the abhorrence with which he must +have been regarded in a more civilized country. He was considered, among +his more peaceable neighbours, pretty much as a gambler, cock-fighter, +or horse-jockey would be regarded at the present day; a person, of +course, whose habits were to be condemned, and his society, in general, +avoided, yet who could not be considered as marked with the indelible +infamy attached to his profession, where laws have been habitually +observed. And their indignation was awakened against him upon +this occasion, not so much on account of the general nature of the +transaction, which was just such as was to be expected from this +marauder, as that the violence had been perpetrated upon a neighbour +against whom he had no cause of quarrel,--against a friend of their +own,--above all, against one of the name of Elliot, to which clan most +of them belonged. It was not, therefore, 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. + + + +CHAPTER IX. + + So spak the knicht; the geaunt sed, + Lend forth with the the sely maid, + And mak me quile 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. + +The 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 advantage 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 loophole, a female hand +was seen to wave a handkerchief, as if by way of signal to them. Hobbie +was almost out of his senses with joy and eagerness. + +“It was Grace’s hand and arm,” 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.” + +Earnscliff, though he doubted the possibility of recognising a fair +maiden’s hand at such a distance from the eye of the lover, would say +nothing to damp his friend’s animated hopes, and it was resolved to +summon the garrison. + +The shouts of the party, and the winding of one or two horns, at length +brought to a loophole, which flanked the entrance, the haggard 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 Graeme of Westburnflat,” said Earnscliff. + +“He’s no at hame,” returned the old dame. + +“When did he leave home?” pursued Earnscliff. + +“I canna tell,” said the portress. + +“When will he return?” said Hobbie Elliot. + +“I dinna ken naething about it,” replied the inexorable guardian of the +keep. + +“Is there anybody within the tower with you?” again demanded Earnscliff. + +“Naebody but mysell and baudrons,” said the old woman. + +“Then open the gate and admit us,” said Earnscliff; “I am a justice of +peace, and in search of the evidence of a felony.” + +“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 are seeking goods +which have been forcibly carried off, to a great amount.” + +“And a young woman, that’s been cruelly made prisoner, that’s worth mair +than a’ the gear, twice told,” said Hobbie. + +“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 clamjamfrie?” 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 aperture through which she +had held the parley. + +The besiegers now opened a serious consultation. The immense 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, of such ponderous +strength as seemed calculated to resist any force that could be brought +against it. “Pinches or forehammers will never pick upon’t,” said +Hugh, the blacksmith of Ringleburn; “ye might as weel batter at it wi’ +pipe-staples.” + +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, 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 assertion, 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. + +To 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 gunpowder; 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 of relief from +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 +forcible 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.” + +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 +them in a large stack, properly disposed for burning, as close to the +iron-grate as they could be piled. Fire was 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 musquetoon, 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 wi’ that +lunt, it’s be the dearest step ye ever made in your days.” + +“We’ll sune see that,” said Hobbie, advancing fearlessly with the torch. + +The marauder snapped his piece at him, which, fortunately for our honest +friend, did not go off; while Earnscliff, firing at the same moment +at the narrow aperture 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 attacking in this fashion a +peaceable and honest man, and shedding his blood in that lawless manner? + +“We want your prisoner,” said Earnscliff, “to be delivered up to us in +safety.” + +“And what concern have you with her?” replied the marauder. + +“That,” retorted Earnscliff, “you, who are detaining her by force, have +no right to enquire.” + +“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. “D’ye think you’re to be +free to plunder the faulds and byres of a gentle Elliot, as if they were +an auld wife’s hens’-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 make 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 am free to come and free to gae, with five minutes to open the +grate, and five minutes to steek it and to draw the bolts? less winna +do, for they want creishing sairly. Will ye do this?” + +“You shall have full time,” said Earnscliff; “I plight my faith and +troth, my hand and my glove.” + +“Wait there a moment, then,” said Westburnflat; “or hear ye, I wad +rather ye wad fa’ back a pistol-shot from the door. It’s no that I +mistrust your word, Earnscliff; but it’s best to be sure.” + +O, friend, thought Hobbie to himself, as he drew back, an I had you but +on Turner’s-holm, [There is a level meadow, on the very margin of the +two kingdoms, called Turner’s-holm, just where the brook called Crissop +joins the Liddel. It is said to have derived its name as being a place +frequently assigned for tourneys, during the ancient Border times.] 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 belanged to +me! + +“He has a white feather in his wing this same Westburnflat, 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 haill and sound.” + +Hobbie advanced eagerly, to meet his betrothed bride. Earnscliff +followed more slowly, to guard against treachery. Suddenly Hobbie +slackened his pace in the deepest mortification, while that of +Earnscliff 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. + +“Where is Grace? where is Grace Armstrong?” exclaimed Hobbie, in the +extremity of wrath and indignation. + +“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 disarmed 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. + +“I 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, “ye’ll render her back to me again. I am answerable for her +to those that aught her.” + +“For God’s sake, Mr. Earnscliff, protect me!” said Miss Vere, clinging +to her deliverer; “do not you abandon one whom the whole world seems to +have abandoned.” + +“Fear nothing,” whispered Earnscliff, “I will protect you with my life.” + Then turning to Westburnflat, “Villain!” he said, “how dared you to +insult this lady?” + +“For that matter, Earnscliff,” answered the freebooter, “I 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--But it’s your ain affair--Nae single man +can keep a tower against twenty--A’ the men o’ 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, hinny,” replied the robber; “but +it’s nae business o’ mine, let it be as it may.--So ye winna resign her +back to me?” + +“Back to you, fellow? Surely no,” answered Earnscliff; “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 grate; 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 +takena the better care, ye’ll play mair 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 let us gang reasonably to wark and keep our +tryst, and I’se warrant we get back Grace, and the kye an’ a’.” + +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 Ellieslaw, 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 disappointment, 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. + + + +CHAPTER X. + + I left my ladye’s bower last night-- + It was clad in wreaths of snaw,-- + I’ll 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 thee 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 show 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 himself, “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 put +spurs to the beast, and loup ower the scaur into the water to make an +end o’t a’.”--In this disconsolate mood he turned his horse’s bridle +towards the cottage in which his family had 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 laugh, 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, 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 i, 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 ye this hour +and mair? Haste ye in, man; I’ll take off the saddle.” + +“Ane frae Cumberland!” exclaimed Elliot; and putting 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 +females; “Did he bring news of Grace?” + +“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, “ye shouldna vex your billy Hobbie that way.--Look round, my +bairn, and see if there isna ane here mair than ye left this morning.” + +Hobbie looked eagerly round. “There’s you, and the three titties.” + +“There’s four of us now, Hobbie, lad,” said the youngest, who at this +moment entered. + +In an instant Hobbie had in his arms Grace Armstrong, who, with one +of his sister’s plaids around her, had passed unnoticed at his first +entrance. “How dared you do this?” said Hobbie. + +“It 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 bridegroom 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, throwing 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 lesson of religion at those moments when the heart +was best open to receive it,--“Then, O my son, give praise to Him that +brings smiles out o’ tears and joy out o’ grief, as He brought light out +o’ darkness 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?” + +“It was--it was your word, grannie; and I do praise Him for His mercy, +and for leaving me a good parent when my ain were gane,” said honest +Hobbie, taking her hand, “that puts me in mind to think of Him, baith in +happiness and distress.” + +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 +unexpectedly restored to their embraces the friend whom they had lost. + +Hobbie’s first enquiries 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 +breaking 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 downstairs, and having seen, in the scuffle, Westburnflat’s +vizard drop off, imprudently 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. + +“I’ll break the accursed neck of him,” said Hobbie, “if there werena +another Graeme in the land but himsell!” + +She proceeded to say, that she was carried southward along with the +party, and the spoil which they drove before 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, +the 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. Many and sincere were the congratulations which +passed on all sides. + +As these emotions subsided, less 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.” + +“It 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.” + +“If 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--Odd, an we had been at hame, Will +Graeme’s stamach shouldna hae wanted its morning; but it’s biding him, +is it na, Hobbie?” + +“Our neighbours hae taen a day at the Castleton to gree wi’ him at the +sight o’ men,” said Hobbie, mournfully; “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 it; but the sight +o’ Grace Armstrong has settled it brawly.” + +“But the stocking, Hobbie’” said John Elliot; “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 think. Westburnflat hasna the means, e’en if he had the +will, to make up our loss; there’s nae mends to be got out o’ him, but +what ye take out o’ his banes. He hasna a four-footed creature but the +vicious blood thing he rides on, and that’s sair trash’d 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. There’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 wi’t would stick in my throat, when +I thought it was part of the price of puir auld Scotland’s crown and +independence.” + +“There’s the Laird o’ Dunder, ane o’ the auldest families 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.” + +“Poor man!” exclaimed Mrs. Elliot, “can we no send him something, +Hobbie?” + +“Ye forget, grannie, ye forget we want help oursells,” said Hobbie, +somewhat peevishly. + +“Troth did I, hinny,” replied the good-natured lady, “just at the +instant; it’s sae natural to think on ane’s blude relations before +themsells;--But there’s young Earnscliff.” + +“He has ower little o’ his ain; and siccan a name to keep up, it wad be +a shame,” said Hobbie, “to burden him wi’ our distress. And I’ll tell +ye, grannie, it’s needless 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, me maun trust in Him that can raise up friends and +fortune out o’ the bare moor, as they say.” + +Hobbie sprung upon his feet. “Ye are right, grannie!” he exclaimed; “ye +are right. I do 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 o’ broken +cisterns, or seek for relief frae them that deal wi’ the Evil One! There +was never luck in their gifts, nor grace in their paths. And the haill +country kens that body Elshie’s an unco man. O, if there was the law, +and the douce quiet administration of justice, that makes a kingdom +flourish in righteousness, the like o’ them suldna be suffered to live! +The wizard and the witch are the abomination and the evil thing in the +land.” + +“Troth, mother,” answered Hobbie, “ye may say what ye like, but I am in +the mind that witches and warlocks havena half the power they had lang +syne; at least, sure am I, that ae ill-deviser, like auld Ellieslaw, or +ae ill-doer, like that d--d villain Westburnflat, is a greater plague +and abomination in a country-side than a haill curnie o’ the warst +witches that ever capered on a broomstick, 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 Lambside’s cow weel out +o’ the moor-ill, yet the louping-ill’s been sairer amane; his sheep than +ony season before. And then I have heard he uses sic words abusing human +nature, that’s like a fleeing in the face of Providence; and ye mind ye +said yoursell, the first time ye ever saw him, that he was mair like a +bogle than a living thing.” + +“Hout, mother,” said Hobbie, “Elshie’s no that 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 streek +mysell down for twa or three hours aside the beast, and be on and awa’ +to Mucklestane wi’ the first skreigh o’ morning.” + +“And what for no the night, Hobbie,” said Harry, “and I will ride wi’ +ye?” + +“My naig is tired,” said Hobbie. + +“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 looking through the +casement of the cottage; “and, to speak truth, and shame the deil, +though Elshie’s a real honest fallow, yet somegate I would rather take +daylight wi’ me when I gang to visit him.” + +This frank avowal put a stop to further 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 +himself with such food as the cottage afforded; and, after a 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, disposed 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 he weel can abide. +I wonder if he’s looked out o’ the crib o’ him to gather up the bag +o’ siller. If he hasna done that, it will hae been a braw windfa’ for +somebody, and I’ll 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 illuminated 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 phenomenon 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 indignation +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 +him, 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; “but my case is +desperate, sae, if he were Beelzebub himsell, I’se venture down the brae +on him.” + +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 bogies will take to fright a body? it will maybe start up +like a lion or a crocodile when I come nearer. I’se e’en drive a stage +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. “Mercy on us!” said Hobbie, whose heart +fluttered between glee at the revival of his hopes and prospects +in life, and suspicion 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, I canna shake mysell +loose o’ the belief that there has been some jookery-paukery of Satan’s +in a’ this; but I 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 having knocked +repeatedly without receiving any answer, he at length elevated his voice +and addressed the inmate of the hut. “Elshie! Father Elshie! I 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 gliff to ane that has mony +thanks to gie ye?--It was a’ true ye tell’d me about Westburnflat; 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’ matter; there’s nae gathering gear on that--and +then my grandame’s auld--and my sisters wad sit peengin’ at the +ingle-side for want o’ me to ding them about--and Earnscliff, or the +neighbourhood, or maybe your ainsell, Elshie, might want some good turn +that Hob Elliot could do ye--and it’s a pity that the auld house o’ the +Heugh-foot 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 on me, to tell me if he hears me speaking till him.” + +“Say what thou wilt--do what thou wilt,” answered the Dwarf from his +cabin, “but begone, and leave me at peace.” + +“Weel, weel,” replied Elliot, “since ye are willing to hear me, I’se +make my tale short. Since ye are sae kind as to say ye are content to +lend me as muckle siller as will stock and plenish the Heugh-foot, I am +content, on my part, to accept the courtesy wi’ mony kind thanks; and +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 o’ bad neighbours that can win through steekit doors and lockfast +places, as I can tell to my cost. I say, since ye hae sae muckle +consideration for me, I’se be blithe to accept your kindness; and my +mother and me (she’s a life-renter, and I am fiar, o’ 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 I’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 I’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’ cracking +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--Eh, Lord I I wish he may be weel, that was a sair +grane! or, maybe, he thought I was speaking of heavenly grace, and no of +Grace Armstrong. Poor man, I am very doubtfu’ o’ his condition; but I +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 consult upon the means of repairing +the damage which his fortune had sustained through the aggression of the +Red Reiver of Westburnflat. + + + +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. + +The 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 distant 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 +them. From her father’s silence, Isabella little doubted that he had +chosen this distant and sequestered scene to resume the argument which +they had so frequently maintained 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 conversation, they at +length gained the centre of a small wood, composed of large oaks, +intermingled with birches, mountain-ashes, hazel, holly, and a variety +of underwood. The boughs of the tall trees met closely above, and the +underwood 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 elsewhere?” + +“O, the propriety of the LOCALE is easily vindicated,” replied her +father, with a sneer. “You know, Miss Vere (for you, I am well aware, +are a learned young lady), you know, that the Romans were not satisfied +with embodying, for the purpose of worship, each useful 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 Friendship, which abhors and despises +duplicity, art, and disguise; 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 yourself.” + +“If I have been unfortunate enough to offend, sir, I can conscientiously +excuse Miss Ilderton from being either my counsellor or confidante.” + +“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 on the topic, +Isabella,” said her father coldly; “for my part, I am weary of the +subject, and will never speak upon 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 of 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 confined 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 Armstrong to be restored to her friends, it +did not occur to him that this unwelcome visit was on her account; and +seeing at the head of the party, Earnscliff, whose attachment 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 consequences 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 assistance, +little doubting that he had received a mortal wound, Both the villains +immediately desisted from farther combat, and, retreating into the +thicket, mounted their horses, and went off at full speed after their +companions. Meantime, 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; “You are no +father--she was my child, an ungrateful one! I fear, but still my +child--my only child. Where is Miss Ilderton? she must know something of +this. It corresponds with what I was informed of her schemes. Go, Dixon, +call Ratcliffe here Let him come without a minute’s delay.” The person +he had named at this moment entered the room. + +“I 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 remarkable for a career +of dissipation, which, in advanced life, he had exchanged for the no +less destructive career of dark and turbulent ambition. In both +cases, he had gratified the predominant passion without respect to the +diminution of his private fortune, although, where such inducements +were wanting, he was deemed close, avaricious, and grasping. His affairs +being much embarrassed by his earlier extravagance, he went to England, +where he was understood to have formed a very advantageous matrimonial +connexion. He was many years absent from his family estate. Suddenly and +unexpectedly he returned a widower, bringing with him his daughter, +then a girl of about ten years old. From this moment his expense +seemed unbounded, in the eyes of the simple inhabitants of his native +mountains. It was supposed 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 narrative, when the +public opinion of his embarrassed circumstances was confirmed, by +the residence of Mr. Ratcliffe at Ellieslaw Castle, who, by 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 occasion to speak upon business, he +appeared uncommonly 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-informed 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 was +impossible not to observe indications of the displeasure with which Mr. +Vere regarded his presence. Indeed, their intercourse formed a singular +mixture of confidence 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 devolve it upon another, yet, in many instances, +he was observed to give up his own judgment, and submit to the contrary +opinions which Mr. Ratcliffe did not hesitate distinctly to express. + +Nothing seemed to vex Mr. Vere more than when strangers indicated any +observation of the state of tutelage under which he appeared to labour. +When it was noticed 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 moment Mr. Vere was summoning +him to his presence, and who now heard with surprise, mingled with +obvious incredulity, the hasty narrative of what had befallen Isabella. + +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, gentlemen--give me +your advice, Mr. Ratcliffe. I am incapable of acting, or thinking, under +the unexpected violence of such a blow.” + +“Let us take our horses, call our attendants, and scour the country in +pursuit of the villains,” said Sir Frederick. + +“Is there no one whom you can suspect,” said Ratcliffe, gravely, “of +having some motive for this strange crime? These are not the days of +romance, when ladies are carried off merely for their beauty.” + +“I fear,” said Mr. Vere, “I can too well account for this strange +incident. Read this letter, which Miss Lucy Ilderton thought fit to +address from my house of Ellieslaw to young Mr. Earnscliff; whom, of all +men, I have a hereditary right to call my enemy. You see she writes +to him as the confidant of a passion which 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 meddling girl recommends bold +measures, with an assurance that his suit would be successful 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 committed 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 Ellieslaw. + +“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. +Supposing it were judged advisable to remove Miss Vere to some place in +which constraint might be exercised upon 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?” + +“I say,” returned Sir Frederick, “that although Mr. Vere may choose to +endure in Mr. Ratcliffe freedoms totally inconsistent with his situation +in life, I will not 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 going in pursuit of the ruffians.” + +“I 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 +Ellieslaw directed the pursuit to proceed in the direction of Earnscliff +Tower, under the supposition that the owner would prove to be the +author of the violence, so that they followed a direction diametrically +opposite to that in which the ruffians had actually proceeded. In the +evening they returned, harassed and out of spirits. But other guests +had, in the meanwhile, arrived at the castle; and, after the recent loss +sustained by 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 which the crisis and explosion were +momentarily looked for. + +Several of the gentlemen who took part in this divan were Catholics, and +all of them stanch Jacobites, whose hopes were at present at the highest +pitch, as an invasion, in favour of the Pretender, was daily expected +from France, which Scotland, between the defenceless state of its +garrisons and fortified places, and the general disaffection of the +inhabitants, was rather prepared to welcome than to resist. Ratcliffe, +who neither sought to assist at their consultations on this subject, +nor was invited to do so, had, in the meanwhile, retired to his own +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 conspiracy, were little accessible to any feelings but what +arose immediately out of their own machinations. + + + +CHAPTER XII. + + Some one way, some another--Do you know + Where we may apprehend her? + +The 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. + +“It 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.” + +“Men may often,” answered Ratcliffe, “arrive at the knowledge of that +which is, from discovering that which is not. 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 Mareschal. + +“O, 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, “there is a path we have not +examined, leading by Westburnflat.” + +“O,” 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 his principles: he would +disturb 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 starting 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 +negligence.” + +No reasonable objection could be offered to this proposal, 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 perceived 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 injurious now? +Gentlemen--friends--lend me the assistance of your swords for the +recovery of my child.” + +He unsheathed his weapon, and was imitated by Sir Frederick and several +of the party, who prepared to charge those that were advancing towards +them. But the greater part hesitated. + +“They come to us in all peace and security,” said Mareschal-Wells; “let +us first hear what account they give us of this mysterious affair. If +Miss Vere has sustained the slightest insult or injury from Earnscliff, +I will be first to revenge her; but let us hear what they say.” + +“You do me wrong by your suspicions, Mareschal,” continued Vere; “you +are the last I would have expected to hear express them.” + +“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 +voice,--“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 for her +recovery, and for bringing to justice those who 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?” + +“Is this so, Miss Vere?” said Mareschal. + +“It 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 now restored to freedom by means of this gentleman’s gallant +interference.” + +“By whom, and wherefore, could this have been done?” pursued +Mareschal.--“Had you no knowledge of the place to which you were +conveyed?--Earnscliff, where did you find this lady?” + +But ere either question could be answered, Ellieslaw 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 rely on suitable acknowledgments; meantime,” 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, Earnscliff, as he took +leave of the other gentlemen belonging to Ellieslaw’s party, said aloud, +“Although I am unconscious of any circumstance in my conduct that can +authorize such a suspicion, I cannot but observe, that Mr. Vere seems +to believe that I 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 gentleman,” (he looked hard at Sir Frederick Langley) +“thinks my word and that of Miss Vere, with the evidence of my friends +who accompany me, too slight for my exculpation, I will be happy--most +happy--to repel the charge, as becomes a man who counts his honour +dearer than his life.” + +“And I’ll be his second,” said Simon of Hackburn, “and take up ony twa +o’ ye, gentle or semple, laird or loon; it’s a’ ane to Simon.” + +“Who is that rough-looking fellow?” said Sir Frederick Langley, “and +what has he to do with the quarrels of gentlemen?” + +“I’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 I am myself; and I will pledge myself that my cousin +Ellieslaw, as soon as the perplexity attending these sudden events has +left his judgment to its free exercise, shall handsomely acknowledge the +very important service you have this day rendered him.” + +“To have served your cousin is a sufficient reward in itself--Good +evening, gentlemen,” continued Earnscliff; “I see most of your party are +already on their way to Ellieslaw.” + +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 fellow, +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 I 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 away their arms; for the Whigs are very likely to draw to +a head under such a sprightly young fellow as that.” + +“For shame, Sir Frederick!” exclaimed Mareschal; “do you think that +Ellieslaw could, in honour, consent to any violence being offered to +Earnscliff; when he entered 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 neighbours.” + +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 enquiries. 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 for our final decision--time +presses--our friends are arriving, and I have opened house, not only +for the gentry, but for the under spur-leathers whom we must necessarily +employ. We have, therefore, little time to prepare to meet them.--Look +over these lists, Marchie (an abbreviation by which Mareschal-Wells was +known among his friends). Do you, Sir Frederick, read these letters from +Lothian and the west--all is ripe for the sickle, and we have but to +summon out the reapers.” + +“With all my heart,” said Mareschal; “the more mischief the better +sport.” + +Sir Frederick looked grave and disconcerted. + +“Walk aside with me, my good friend,” said Ellieslaw to the sombre +baronet; “I have something for your private ear, with which I know you +will be gratified.” + +They walked into the house, leaving Ratcliffe and Mareschal standing +together in the court. + +“And so,” said Ratcliffe, “the gentlemen of your political 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 +YOUR friends may require to be veiled, but I am better pleased that ours +can go barefaced.” + +“And is it possible,” continued Ratcliffe, “that you, who, +notwithstanding pour thoughtlessness and heat of temper (I beg pardon, +Mr. Mareschal, I am a plain man)--that you, who, notwithstanding +these constitutional defects, possess natural good sense and acquired +information, should be infatuated enough to embroil yourself in such +desperate proceedings? How does your head feel when you are engaged in +these dangerous conferences?” + +“Not quite so secure on my shoulders,” answered Mareschal, “as if I were +talking of hunting and hawking. I am not of so indifferent a mould as +my cousin Ellieslaw, who speaks treason as if it were a child’s nursery +rhymes, and loses and recovers that sweet girl, his daughter, with a +good deal less emotion on both occasions, than would have affected me +had I lost and recovered a greyhound 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, I 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 yourself in trouble?” + +“I involve? No!--but, trouble for trouble, I had rather it came +to-morrow than a month hence. COME, I know it will; and, as your country +folks say, better soon than syne--it will never find me younger--and as +for hanging, as Sir John Falstaff says, I can become a gallows as well +as another. You know the end of the old ballad; + + “Sae dauntonly, sae wantonly, + Sae rantingly gaed he, + He play’d 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 of vindicating it; there are wiser heads than +mine at the work.” + +“Wiser heads than yours may lie as low,” said Ratcliffe, in a warning +tone. + +“Perhaps so; but no lighter heart shall; and, to prevent it being made +heavier by your remonstrances, I will bid you adieu, Mr. Ratcliffe, till +dinner-time, when you shall see that my apprehensions have not spoiled +my appetite.” + + + +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 FOURTH, PART II. + +There 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, attached to the Jacobite interest, were expected +to rendezvous, but also many subordinate malecontents, whom difficulty +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 perilous 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, however displeased with the Union, unwilling +to engage in a Jacobite conspiracy. But there were some gentlemen of +property, who, either from early principle, from religious motives, or +sharing the ambitious views of Ellieslaw, had given countenance to his +scheme; and there were, also, some fiery young men, like Mareschal, +desirous of signalizing themselves by engaging in a dangerous +enterprise, by which they hoped to vindicate the independence of their +country. The other members of the party were persons of inferior rank +and desperate fortunes, who 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, named +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, unquestionably, the +Jacobite party, in the other parts of the kingdom, consisted of much +more formidable, as well as much more respectable, materials. + +One long table extended itself down the 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 figures, that, carved into all the +wild forms which the fantastic imagination of a Gothic architect could +devise, grinned, frowned, and gnashed their tusks at the assembly below. +Long narrow windows lighted the banqueting room on both sides, filled +up with stained glass, through which the sun emitted 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 presided, 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 stern and sinister expression, might well +be termed handsome, 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 gentlemen 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 the 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 salve to the pride of their superiors. 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 possession and that of her father. + +Before 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 +good cheer. The lower end of the table were, for some time, chilled by +constraint and respect on finding themselves 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 oppressed, +when he first uplifted the psalm in presence of 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 +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 reluctance 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 prevailed 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, ate +and drank, laughed and jested, and seemed even to find amusement in the +embarrassment of the company. + +“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 LIFT? +[To LIFT, meaning to lift the coffin, is the common expression for +commencing a funeral.] where sleeps your spirit, man? and what has +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--, nor a single 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 heroism, + + “My cousin Ellieslaw? No, my fair cousin, + If we are doom’d 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 upon you instead, +such as it is. If we have gone forward like fools, do not let us go back +like cowards. We have done enough to draw upon 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!” + +He quaffed off the wine, and threw the glass over his head. + +“It should never,” he said, “be profaned by a meaner toast.” + +All followed his example, and, amid the crash of glasses and the shouts +of the company, pledged themselves to stand or fall with the principles +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.” + +Then, rising up, he addressed the company in a style of inflammatory +invective against the government and its measures, but especially the +Union; a treaty, by means of which, he affirmed, Scotland had been at +once cheated of her independence, her commerce, and her honour, and 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,” hollowed old John Rewcastle, a Jedburgh +smuggler, from the lower end of the table. + +“Our 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 Kirkwhistle. + +“We shall shortly neither dare shoot a deer nor kiss a wench, 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 smuggler. + +“Or ride over the fell in a moonless night,” said Westburnflat, “without +asking leave of young Earnscliff; or some Englified 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 our 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 trade by Green +and the English thieves,” said William 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 roguish 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; “I’ll cleave him wi’ my +ain hand.” + +“And confound the country-keeper and the constable!” re-echoed +Westburnflat; “I’ll 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 have ears.” + +“Stone-walls may have ears,” returned Ellieslaw, eyeing him with a look +of triumphant malignity, “but domestic 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 meddler, 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 is a 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 gentlemen +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 not because I am afraid of +your disclosing my family secrets, although, for your own sake, I warn +you to beware 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 seemed to sustain +with difficulty, and, bowing to those around him, left the room. + +This conversation made an impression on many of the company, which +Ellieslaw hastened to dispel, by entering upon the business of the day. +Their hasty deliberations went to organize an immediate insurrection. +Ellieslaw, Mareschal, and Sir Frederick Langley were chosen leaders, +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; +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 retreat; 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 of 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, +saying, with a loud burst of laughter, + +--“Well! we are fairly embarked now, gentlemen--VOGUE LA GALERE!” + +“We may thank you for the plunge,” said Ellieslaw. + +“Yes; but I don’t know how far you will thank me,” 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 into my own +hand.” + +Ellieslaw impatiently opened the letter, and read aloud-- + +EDINBURGH,-- + +HOND. SIR, Having obligations to your family, which shall be nameless, +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 +information, 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, +NIHIL NAMELESS. + +FOR RALPH MARESCHAL, OF MARESCHAL-WELLS + +--THESE WITH CARE AND SPEED. + +Sir Frederick’s jaw dropped, and his countenance blackened, as the +letter was read, and Ellieslaw exclaimed,--“Why, this affects the very +mainspring of our enterprise. If the French fleet, with the king on +board, has been chased off by the English, as this d--d scrawl seems to +intimate, where are we?” + +“Just where we were this morning, I think,” said Mareschal, still +laughing. + +“Pardon me, and a truce to your ill-timed mirth, Mr. Mareschal; this +morning we were not committed publicly, as we now stand committed by +your own mad act, when you had a letter in your pocket apprizing you +that our undertaking was desperate.” + +“Ay, ay, I expected you would say so. But, in the first place, my friend +Nihil Nameless and his letter may be all a flam; and, moreover, I would +have you know that I am tired of a party that does nothing but form +bold resolutions overnight, and sleep them away with their wine before +morning. The government are now unprovided 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 have taken care you shall dip as deep as I; it signifies +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 +Frederick 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 Ellieslaw; “if we have our +musters to go over.” + +“I 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 betrayed; and if you leave Ellieslaw Castle to-night, it +shall be by passing over my dead body.” + +“For shame! Mareschal,” said Mr. Vere, “how can you so hastily +misinterpret our friend’s intentions? I am 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 information 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 betwixit his teeth, “A pretty pair of +fellows to trust a man’s neck with!” + +“I am 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--you have trifled with me +concerning our proposed alliance, which 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 hers by right, +and make me, in the meanwhile, a tool in your desperate enterprise, +by holding out hopes and expectations which you are resolved never to +realize.” + +“Sir Frederick, I protest, by all that is sacred--” + +“I will listen to no protestations; I have been cheated with them too +long,” answered Sir Frederick. + +“If 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 sincerity?” said Ellieslaw, +anxiously; “this morning I should have repelled your unjust suspicions +as an insult; 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.” + +“So soon?--impossible,” answered Vere; “think of her late alarm--of our +present undertaking.” + +“I 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 undertaking, and unable to retract?” + +“And I am 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 premature, indelicate, and +unjust towards my character, yet, Sir Frederick, 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 Ellieslaw; and then +aloud, “With her own consent? For what do you take me, Mareschal, that +you should suppose your interference necessary to protect my daughter +against her father? Depend upon it, she has no repugnance 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.” + +“It is only the suddenness of the proposal that embarrasses me,” said +Ellieslaw; “but perhaps if she is found intractable, Sir Frederick will +consider--” + +“I will consider nothing, Mr. Vere--your daughter’s hand to-night, or I +depart, were it at midnight--there is my ultimatum.” + +“I embrace it,” said Ellieslaw; “and I will leave you to talk upon our +military preparations, while I go to prepare my daughter for so sudden a +change of condition.” + +So saying, he left the company. + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + + He 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 +apartment, with the alert, firm, and steady pace of one who is bound, +indeed, upon important business, but who entertains no doubt he can +terminate his affairs satisfactorily. But when out of hearing of the +gentlemen whom he had left, his step became so slow and irresolute, as +to correspond 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. + +“In 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. +I must wander forth an impoverished and dishonoured man, without +even the means of sustaining life, far less 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, I 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 +me 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 expression of sorrow +and sympathy, and, sitting down beside 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 daughter for an injury done to her +in the excess of his affection, and then to take leave of her for ever.” + +“Sir? Offence to me take leave for ever? 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 painful 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 advantages were, in most respects, on your side. In +a 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 excesses into which his headlong passion +(for, to do him justice, I believe his unreasonable conduct arises from +excess of attachment to you) was likely to hurry him, I endeavoured, +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 the castle with Mr. +Ratcliffe, who now leaves it; my own fate will soon be decided.” + +“Good Heaven, sir! can this be possible?” exclaimed Isabella. “O, 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 eagerness with which he pursued his object? Could I do +so honourably, having promised to assist his suit?--But it is all over, +I 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 one which you would not +advise your father to adopt--to be the first to betray his friends.” + +“O, no! no!” she answered, abhorrently yet hastily, as if to reject +the temptation which the alternative presented to her. “But is there no +other hope--through flight--through mediation--through supplication?--I +will bend my knee to Sir Frederick!” + +“It 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!” exclaimed 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 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 preventing 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?--a monster, who could wish to win +the daughter by threatening the life of the father--it is impossible!” + +“You say right, my child,” answered her father, “it is 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 to 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 comprehend the peril in which we stand, or how much we +are in his power--Use your influence with him, for Heaven’s sake, to +modify proposals, to the acceptance of which I cannot, and will not, +urge my child against all her own feelings, as well as those of delicacy +and propriety, and oblige your loving cousin,--R. V.” + +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 scruples rather upon the form and time of the +proposed union, than on a rooted dislike to the suitor proposed to her. +Mr. Vere rang the bell, and gave the letter to a servant to be delivered +to Mr. Mareschal, 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 pressed to give up any of her maidenly rights. Sir +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 great hope the bridegroom may be knocked on the head +before he and the bride can meet again, so Bell has a fair chance to be +Lady Langley A TRES BON MARCHE. 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 who 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 her 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 +overcoming, even in HIS breast, the sentiments of selfish policy; “look +up, Isabella--look up, my child--come what will, you shall not be +the sacrifice--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 her hands, +pressing the palms strongly together, closed her eyes, and drew her lips +with strong compression, as if the severe constraint which she put upon +her internal feelings extended even to her muscular organization. Then +raising her head, and drawing in her breath strongly ere she spoke, she +said, with firmness,--“Father, 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 Ellieslaw; and, strange and inconsistent beings that we +are! he expressed the real though momentary feelings of his heart. + +“Father,” repeated Isabella, “I will consent to this marriage.” + +“No, my child, no--not now at least--we will humble ourselves to obtain +delay from him; and yet, Isabella, could you overcome a dislike +which has no real foundation, think, in other respects, what a +match!--wealth--rank--importance.” + +“Father!” reiterated Isabella, “I have consented.” + +It seemed as if she had lost the power of saying anything 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 WILL 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. + +“I 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 dropped upon her knees--“Heaven aid me +to support the resolution I have taken--Heaven only can--O, poor +Earnscliff! who shall comfort 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 time, to commence +the prayer for which she had sunk on her knees, but unable to calm her +spirits sufficiently for the exercise of devotion. As she remained in +this agony of mind, the door of her apartment was slowly opened. + + + +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. + +The 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!” + +“Leave me--leave me, Mr. Ratcliffe,” said the unhappy young lady. + +“I 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.” + +“I 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? I heard the servants proclaim it as +I was on the great staircase--I heard the directions given to clear out +the chapel.” + +“Spare me, Mr. Ratcliffe,” replied the luckless bride; “and from the +state in which you see me, judge of the cruelty of these questions.” + +“Married? to Sir Frederick Langley? and this night? It must not +cannot--shall not be.” + +“It MUST be, Mr. Ratcliff, 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 it 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 to 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. “It 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!” + +“I am as much in my senses, young lady,” answered 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 seems) actually possesses the means of redeeming you from this +hateful union.” + +“And of insuring my father’s safety?” + +“Yes! even that,” said Ratcliffe, “if you plead his cause with him--yet +how to obtain admittance to the Recluse!” + +“Fear not that,” said Miss Vere, suddenly recollecting the incident +of the rose; “I remember he desired me to call upon him for aid in +my extremity, and gave me this flower as a token. Ere it faded away +entirely, I would need, he said, his assistance: is it possible his +words can have been aught but the ravings of insanity?” + +“Doubt it not fear it not--but above all,” said Ratcliffe, “let us lose +no time--are you at liberty, and unwatched?” + +“I 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 +absolute 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 garden-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 dressing-room. On the way she felt inclined to +retract the consent she had so hastily given to a plan so hopeless +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! onything rather than that.” + +“They are right--they are right,” said Miss Vere, “anything 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 having 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 my feelings of religion, +apply to this being in my distress.” + +“I should have thought, Miss Vere,” replied Ratcliffe, “my character and +habits of thinking were so well known to you, that you might have held +me exculpated from crediting in such absurdity.” + +“But in what other mode,” said Isabella, “can a being, so miserable +himself in appearance, possess the power of assisting me?” + +“Miss Vere.” said Ratcliffe, after a momentary pause, “I am 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 mis-anthropy 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 avows 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 to great wealth, which his parents designed +should become 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 thought of the lot to which she was +destined--Yet, habituated to his appearance, she showed no reluctance, +and the friends of--of the person whom I speak of, doubted not that the +excess of his attachment, the various acquisitions of his mind, his +many and amiable qualities, had overcome the natural horror which +his destined bride must have entertained at an exterior so dreadfully +inauspicious.” + +“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 phantom. ‘I am,’ was his own +expression to me,--I mean to a man 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 endeavoured to +impress him with the indifference to external form which is the natural +result of philosophy, 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; ‘but you speak the voice of cold-blooded +stoicism, or, at least, of friendly partiality. But look at every book +which we 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? +Is not such a mis-shapen monster as I am, excluded, by the very fiat +of Nature, from her fairest enjoyments? What but my wealth prevents +all--perhaps even Letitia, or you--from shunning me as something foreign +to your nature, and more odious, by bearing that distorted resemblance +to 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 exuberant, 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 naturally +philanthropical in an uncommon degree, were exaggerated by the influence +of the goading reflection, that more was necessary from him than from +others,--lavishing 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 discrimination, +his diseased fancy set down to the hatred and contempt excited by his +personal deformity.--But I fatigue you, Miss Vere?” + +“No, by no means; I--I could not prevent my attention from wandering an +instant; pray proceed.” + +“He became at length,” continued Ratcliffe, “the most ingenious +self-tormentor of whom I have ever heard; the scoff 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, or 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 at 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, and 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 antagonist. +They fell in the struggle at the feet of the Recluse, who, maimed and +truncated as his form appears, possesses, nevertheless, great strength, +as well as violent passions. He caught up a sword, pierced the heart +of his friend’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 +sustained 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 capable 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 fearful 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 disposition 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 cable at which +the vessel rode had suddenly parted, and left 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 confinement, in order to enjoy the management of his +immense estates. There was one who owed his all to the sufferer, an +humble 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 without 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 wayward +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, suffering +the most severe privations, not indeed in ascetic 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 +unfortunate in reconciling to his abstract principles of misanthropy, +a conduct which flows from his natural generosity and kindness of +feeling.” + +“Still, Mr. Ratcliffe--still you describe the inconsistencies of a +madman.” + +“By no means,” replied Ratcliffe. “That the imagination of this +gentleman is disordered, I will not pretend to dispute; I have already +told you that it has sometimes 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 deranged; the shades are as gradual as +those that divide the light of noonday from midnight. The courtier who +ruins his 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 applies; 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 +palliate.” + +“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 fear of alarming you is, that now when we are within +sight of his retreat, for I can discover it through the twilight, I must +go no farther with you; you must proceed alone.” + +“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.” + +“Fear nothing,” said her guide; “or observe, at least, the utmost +caution in stifling every expression of timidity. Remember that his +predominant and most harassing apprehension arises from a consciousness +of the hideousness of his appearance. Your path lies straight beside +yon 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 I have trusted.” + +“On my life--on my soul,” continued Ratcliffe, raising his voice as the +distance between them increased, “you are safe--perfectly safe.” + + + +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 PLAY. + +The sounds of Ratcliffe’s voice had died on Isabella’s ear; but as she +frequently looked back, it was some encouragement to her to discern his +form now darkening in the gloom. Ere, however, she went much farther, +she lost the object in the increasing shade. The last glimmer 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 overpower the terrors of his presence from whom she +was to request it. At length, as she still received no answer, 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 voice of the +Solitary, “to seek refuge here? Go hence; when the heath-fowl need +shelter, they seek it not in the nest of the night-raven.” + +“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 open to my distress; but I fear--” + +“Ha!” said the Solitary, “then thou art Isabella Vere? Give me a token +that thou art she.” + +“I have brought you back the rose which you gave me; it has not had time +to fade ere the hard fate you foretold has 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 afterwards 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 apprehension. The light of the lamp was +weak and uncertain; but the Solitary, without taking immediate notice of +Isabella, otherwise than by motioning her to sit down on a small +settle beside the fireplace, made haste to kindle some dry furze, which +presently cast a blaze through the cottage. 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 herself 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 dropping +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?” + +“If you can bestow it,” she replied, still in the same tone of mild +submission. + +“And how should I possess that power?” continued the Dwarf, with a +bitter sneer; “Is mine the form of a redresser of wrongs? Is this the +castle in which one powerful enough to be sued to by a fair suppliant +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 her and the door, +and motioning to her sternly to resume her seat--“No! you leave me +not in this way; we must have farther conference. Why should one being +desire aid of another? Why should not each be sufficient to itself? Look +round you--I, the most despised and most decrepit on Nature’s common, +have 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 garment, 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 scabbard, “I can, 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 calls not the wolf to aid him +in forming his den; and the vulture invites not another to assist her in +striking down her prey.” + +“And when they are unable to procure themselves support,” said Isabella, +judiciously thinking that he would be most accessible to argument +couched in his own metaphorical style, “what then is to befall them?” + +“Let them starve, die, and be forgotten; it is the common lot of +humanity.” + +“It is the lot of the wild tribes of nature,” said Isabella, “but +chiefly of those who are destined to support themselves by rapine, which +brooks no partner; but it is not the law of nature in general; even the +lower orders have confederacies for mutual defence. But mankind--the +race would perish did they cease to aid each other.--From 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 Solitary, “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.” + +“Hast 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 the Dwarf, “thou vauntest thyself a philosopher? Yet, +shouldst thou not have thought of the 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 firmness, “Whatever +injuries you may have sustained in the world, you are incapable 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.” + +“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 suppliant tone. + +“Thy father,” replied the Dwarf, “has been, and is, my most bitter +enemy. But fear not; thy virtue shall save him. And now, begone; were +I to keep thee longer by me, I might again fall into the stupid dreams +concerning human worth from which I have been so fearfully awakened. But +fear nothing--at the very foot of the altar I 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 prolonged than the +first. + +“I 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. + +She obeyed Ratcliffe’s directions, though without well apprehending +their purpose, and leaving her horse at large in a paddock near +the garden, hurried to her own apartment, which she reached without +observation. She now 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 interruption; and protract to the last moment the respite +which is allowed me.” + +“I 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 adorned.” + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + + This looks not like a nuptial.--MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. + +The 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 considerable 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 +rich Abbey of Jedburgh. 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 called 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 immediate vicinity, were surrounded beyond by +a red and 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 ascertain its limits. +Some injudicious ornaments, 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 emblems of the dead, which they elsewhere +exhibited. On each side of the stone altar was a monument, the +appearance of which formed an equally strange contrast. On 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 monument had +been constructed under the direction and at the sole expense of Mr. +Ratcliffe. + +Before these monuments the wedding guests were assembled. They were +few in number; for many had left the castle to prepare for the ensuing +political explosion, and Ellieslaw was, in the circumstances of the +case, 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; “I 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 discourse, humming a +tune, and looking another may, but Mareschal proceeded in the same wild +manner. + +“This delay is hard upon Dr. Hobbler, who was disturbed 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 come Ellieslaw and my pretty cousin--prettier 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 loud whisper, the +tone of which indicated that his angry feelings were suppressed with +difficulty. + +“No--no marriage,” replied Mareschal, “there’s my hand and glove on’t.” + +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 never 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. I must insist, in the name of common humanity, that the +ceremony be adjourned till to-morrow.” + +“She shall tell you herself, thou incorrigible intermeddler in what +concerns thee not, that it is her wish the ceremony should go on--Is it +not, Isabella, my dear?” + +“It 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. Ellieslaw led, or rather supported, his +daughter to the altar. Sir Frederick moved forward and placed himself by +her side. The clergyman opened his prayer-book, and looked to Mr. Vere +for the signal to commence the service. + +“Proceed,” said the latter. + +But a voice, as if issuing from the tomb of his deceased wife, called, +in such loud and harsh accents 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. + +“It 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, clasping it with his hands as +if for support, laid his brow against the column. + +“Who is this fellow?” said Sir Frederick; “and what does he mean by this +intrusion?” + +“It is one who comes to tell you,” said the Dwarf, with 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 Polverton, 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 innocence--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 mayst 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 thee 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!” + +Ellieslaw 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.” + +“I 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.” + +But the domestics shrunk back in doubt and alarm. Sir Frederick himself +stepped forward towards the Recluse, 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. + +“I’ll gar daylight shine through ye, if ye offer to steer him!” said the +stout Borderer; “stand back, or I’ll 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, I’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 as ye wad shiel pea-cods.” + +Mareschal rushed out, and immediately re-entered the chapel. + +“By Heaven! it is true, Sir Frederick; the house is filled with armed +men, and our drunken beasts are all disarmed. Draw, and let us fight our +way.” + +“Binna rash--binna rash,” exclaimed Hobbie; “hear me a bit, 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 stand up for the t’other 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 Ratcliffe. + +“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.” + +“Hout, ay,” said Elliot, “just let byganes be byganes, and a’ friends +again; deil ane I bear malice at but Westburnflat, 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 himsell out o’ the country, +I’se kilt him wi’ a tow, for the Castleton meeting’s clean blawn ower; +his friends will no countenance him.” + +During the general confusion, Isabella had thrown herself at the feet of +her kinsman, Sir Edward Mauley, for so we must now call the Solitary, +to express at once her gratitude, 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 somewhat 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. + +“I 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 graves. 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 to me.--Speak not +to me! attempt not to thwart my determination! 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 crimes of existence.” + +He kissed Isabella on the forehead, impressed another 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 +dispersed, 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 +regular 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; so 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. + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + + --Last scene of all, + To close this strange eventful history.--AS YOU LIKE IT. + +On the next morning, Mr. Ratcliffe presented Miss Vere with a letter +from her father, of which the following is 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 concerning 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 possession of a large part +of his fortune, I account it a full atonement. I am aware he has never +forgiven the preference 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 to unsettle his wits (which, indeed, were never +over-well arranged), and I had, as the husband of his nearest kinswoman +and heir, the delicate task of taking care of his person and property, +until he was reinstated in the management of the latter by those who, no +doubt, thought they were doing him justice; although, if some parts of +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 showed 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 acting with extreme generosity, while, in the opinion of all +impartial men, he will only be considered as having fulfilled 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, therefore, of considering myself as loaded +with obligations to Sir Edward on this account, I think I had reason +to complain 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 +absolute management and control of my property. Or, if all this seeming +friendship was employed by Sir Edward for the purpose of obtaining a +complete command of my 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 to 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 calamitous 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 discovery 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 is 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 +through 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 becoming 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 certain fatal event. But I +give my free and hearty consent, providing the settlements are drawn in +such an irrevocable form as may secure my child from suffering by +that state of dependence, and that sudden and causeless revocation 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 has withdrawn from me to shower upon you. + +“Mr. Ratcliffe mentioned Sir Edward’s intention to settle a considerable +sum upon me yearly, for my maintenance 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 show my parental affection and +disinterested zeal for promoting your settlement 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 a gleaming, or twilight +understanding; and that he had neither very clear views as to what he +himself wanted, nor was apt to pursue his ends by the clearest and most +direct means; so that to seek the clew of his conduct, was likened, by +Hobbie, to looking for a straight path through a common, over which are +a hundred devious tracks, but not one distinct line of road. + +When Isabella had perused the letter, her first enquiry 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 onything has befa’en puir Elshie,” said Hobbie Elliot, “I wad +rather I were harried ower again.” + +He immediately rode to his dwelling, and the remaining 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 +extinguished, 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. Hobbie +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, endowed 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 puir 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 produced! 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 Eishie’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 o’ 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 wi’ 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 he took +of his favourite. + +“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 Earnscliff 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 somewhat, 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 Ilderton. + +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 found in the State Trials. Mr. Vere, supplied by +his daughter with an ample income, continued to reside abroad, engaged +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. Fortunately for him, the +first impulse prevailed, and he joined the army under Marlborough; +obtained a commission 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 +ONSTEAD, 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 neighbour, +and a sincere Christian. + +Mr. Ratcliffe resided usually with the family at Ellieslaw, but +regularly every spring and autumn he absented himself for about a month. +On the direction and purpose of his periodical journey he remained +steadily silent; but it was well understood that he was then in +attendance on 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 extraordinary hermitage +corroborated the reports which the common people had spread concerning +him. Many believed that, having ventured to enter a consecrated +building, 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 impending wreath of snow +to precipitate its weight on such as 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 BLACK DWARF. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Black Dwarf, by Sir Walter Scott + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BLACK DWARF *** + +***** This file should be named 1460-0.txt or 1460-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/4/6/1460/ + +Produced by An Anonymous Volunteer and David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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