by Walter Scott
CHAPTER XXI.
--After you're gone, I grew acquainted with my heart, and search'd, What stirr'd it so.--Alas! I found it love. Yet far from lust, for could I but have lived In presence of you, I had had my end.--PHILASTER.
Annot Lyle had now to contemplate the terrible gulf which AllanM'Aulay's declaration of love and jealousy had made to open around her.It seemed as if she was tottering on the very brink of destruction, andwas at once deprived of every refuge, and of all human assistance. Shehad long been conscious that she loved Menteith dearer than a brother;indeed, how could it be otherwise, considering their early intimacy, thepersonal merit of the young nobleman, his assiduous attentions,--and hisinfinite superiority in gentleness of disposition, and grace of manners,over the race of rude warriors with whom she lived? But her affectionwas of that quiet, timid, meditative character, which sought rather areflected share in the happiness of the beloved object, than formedmore presumptuous or daring hopes. A little Gaelic song, in which sheexpressed her feelings, has been translated by the ingenious and unhappyAndrew M'Donald; and we willingly transcribe the lines:--
Wert thou, like me, in life's low vale, With thee how blest, that lot I'd share; With thee I'd fly wherever gale Could waft, or bounding galley bear. But parted by severe decree, Far different must our fortunes prove; May thine be joy--enough for me To weep and pray for him I love.
The pangs this foolish heart must feel, When hope shall be forever flown, No sullen murmur shall reveal, No selfish murmurs ever own. Nor will I through life's weary years, Like a pale drooping mourner move, While I can think my secret tears May wound the heart of him I love.
The furious declaration of Allan had destroyed the romantic plan whichshe had formed, of nursing in secret her pensive tenderness, withoutseeking any other requital. Long before this, she had dreaded Allan, asmuch as gratitude, and a sense that he softened towards her a temper sohaughty and so violent, could permit her to do; but now she regarded himwith unalloyed terror, which a perfect knowledge of his disposition, andof his preceding history, too well authorised her to entertain. Whateverwas in other respects the nobleness of his disposition, he had neverbeen known to resist the wilfulness of passion,--he walked in the house,and in the country of his fathers, like a tamed lion, whom no one daredto contradict, lest they should awaken his natural vehemence of passion.So many years had elapsed since he had experienced contradiction, oreven expostulation, that probably nothing but the strong good sense,which, on all points, his mysticism excepted, formed the ground of hischaracter, prevented his proving an annoyance and terror to the wholeneighbourhood. But Annot had no time to dwell upon her fears, beinginterrupted by the entrance of Sir Dugald Dalgetty.
It may well be supposed, that the scenes in which this person had passedhis former life, had not much qualified him to shine in female society.He himself felt a sort of consciousness that the language of thebarrack, guard-room, and parade, was not proper to entertain ladies.The only peaceful part of his life had been spent at Mareschal-College,Aberdeen; and he had forgot the little he had learned there, except thearts of darning his own hose, and dispatching his commons with unusualcelerity, both which had since been kept in good exercise by thenecessity of frequent practice. Still it was from an imperfectrecollection of what he had acquired during this pacific period, thathe drew his sources of conversation when in company with women; in otherwords, his language became pedantic when it ceased to be military.
"Mistress Annot Lyle," said he, upon the present occasion, "I am justnow like the half-pike, or spontoon of Achilles, one end of which couldwound and the other cure--a property belonging neither to Spanish pike,brown-bill, partizan, halberd, Lochaber-axe, or indeed any other modernstaff-weapon whatever." This compliment he repeated twice; but as Annotscarce heard him the first time, and did not comprehend him the second,he was obliged to explain.
"I mean," he said, "Mistress Annot Lyle, that having been the meansof an honourable knight receiving a severe wound in this day'sconflict,--he having pistolled, somewhat against the law of arms, myhorse, which was named after the immortal King of Sweden,--I am desirousof procuring him such solacement as you, madam, can supply, you beinglike the heathen god Esculapius" (meaning possibly Apollo), "skilfulnot only in song and in music, but in the more noble art ofchirurgery-OPIFERQUE PER ORBEM DICOR."
"If you would have the goodness to explain," said Annot, too sick atheart to be amused by Sir Dugald's airs of pedantic gallantry.
"That, madam," replied the Knight, "may not be so easy, as I am outof the habit of construing--but we shall try. DICOR, supply EGO--Iam called,--OPIFER? OPIFER?--I remember SIGNIFER and FURCIFER--butI believe OPIFER stands in this place for M.D., that is, Doctor ofPhysic."
"This is a busy day with us all," said Annot; "will you say at once whatyou want with me?"
"Merely," replied Sir Dugald, "that you will visit my brother knight,and let your maiden bring some medicaments for his wound, whichthreatens to be what the learned call a DAMNUM FATALE."
Annot Lyle never lingered in the cause of humanity. She informed herselfhastily of the nature of the injury, and interesting herself for thedignified old Chief whom she had seen at Darnlinvarach, and whosepresence had so much struck her, she hastened to lose the sense of herown sorrow for a time, in the attempt to be useful to another.
Sir Dugald with great form ushered Annot Lyle to the chamber of herpatient, in which, to her surprise, she found Lord Menteith. She couldnot help blushing deeply at the meeting, but, to hide her confusion,proceeded instantly to examine the wound of the Knight of Ardenvohr, andeasily satisfied herself that it was beyond her skill to cure it. Asfor Sir Dugald, he returned to a large outhouse, on the floor of which,among other wounded men, was deposited the person of Ranald of the Mist.
"Mine old friend," said the Knight, "as I told you before, I wouldwillingly do anything to pleasure you, in return for the wound you havereceived while under my safe-conduct. I have, therefore, according toyour earnest request, sent Mrs. Annot Lyle to attend upon the wound ofthe knight of Ardenvohr, though wherein her doing so should benefit you,I cannot imagine.--I think you once spoke of some blood relationshipbetween them; but a soldado, in command and charge like me, has otherthings to trouble his head with than Highland genealogies."
And indeed, to do the worthy Major justice, he never enquired after,listened to, or recollected, the business of other people, unless iteither related to the art military, or was somehow or other connectedwith his own interest, in either of which cases his memory was verytenacious.
"And now, my good friend of the Mist," said he, "can you tell me whathas become of your hopeful grandson, as I have not seen him since heassisted me to disarm after the action, a negligence which deserveth thestrapado?"
"He is not far from hence," said the wounded outlaw--"lift not your handupon him, for he is man enough to pay a yard of leathern scourge with afoot of tempered steel."
"A most improper vaunt," said Sir Dugald; "but I owe you some favours,Ranald, and therefore shall let it pass."
"And if you think you owe me anything," said the outlaw, "it is in yourpower to requite me by granting me a boon."
"Friend Ranald," answered Dalgetty, "I have read of these boons in sillystory-books, whereby simple knights were drawn into engagements to theirgreat prejudice; wherefore, Ranald, the more prudent knights of thisday never promise anything until they know that they may keep theirword anent the premises, without any displeasure or incommodement tothemselves. It may be, you would have me engage the female chirurgeonto visit your wound; though you ought to consider, Ranald, that theuncleanness of the place where you are deposited may somewhat soil thegaiety of her garments, concerning the preservation of which, you mayhave observed, women are apt to be inordinately solicitous. I lost thefavour of the lady of the Grand Pensionary of Amsterdam, by touchingwith the sole of my boot the train of her black velvet gown, whichI mistook for a fo
ot-cloth, it being half the room distant from herperson."
"It is not to bring Annot Lyle hither," answered MacEagh, "but totransport me into the room where she is in attendance upon the Knight ofArdenvohr. Somewhat I have to say of the last consequence to them both."
"It is something out of the order of due precedence," said Dalgetty, "tocarry a wounded outlaw into the presence of a knight; knighthood havingbeen of yore, and being, in some respects, still, the highest militarygrade, independent always of commissioned officers, who rank accordingto their patents; nevertheless, as your boon, as you call it, is soslight, I shall not deny compliance with the same." So saying, heordered three files of men to transport MacEagh on their shouldersto Sir Duncan Campbell's apartment, and he himself hastened beforeto announce the cause of his being brought thither. But such was theactivity of the soldiers employed, that they followed him close at theheels, and, entering with their ghastly burden, laid MacEagh on thefloor of the apartment. His features, naturally wild, were now distortedby pain; his hands and scanty garments stained with his own blood, andthose of others, which no kind hand had wiped away, although the woundin his side had been secured by a bandage.
"Are you," he said, raising his head painfully towards the couch wherelay stretched his late antagonist, "he whom men call the Knight ofArdenvohr?"
"The same," answered Sir Duncan,--"what would you with one whose hoursare now numbered?"
"My hours are reduced to minutes," said the outlaw; "the more grace, ifI bestow them in the service of one, whose hand has ever been againstme, as mine has been raised higher against him."
"Thine higher against me!--Crushed worm!" said the Knight, looking downon his miserable adversary.
"Yes," answered the outlaw, in a firm voice, "my arm hath been highest.In the deadly contest betwixt us, the wounds I have dealt have beendeepest, though thine have neither been idle nor unfelt.--I am RanaldMacEagh--I am Ranald of the Mist--the night that I gave thy castle tothe winds in one huge blaze of fire, is now matched with the day inwhich you have fallen under the sword of my fathers.--Remember theinjuries thou hast done our tribe--never were such inflicted, saveby one, beside thee. HE, they say, is fated and secure against ourvengeance--a short time will show."
"My Lord Menteith," said Sir Duncan, raising himself out of his bed,"this is a proclaimed villain, at once the enemy of King and Parliament,of God and man--one of the outlawed banditti of the Mist; alike theenemy of your house, of the M'Aulays, and of mine. I trust you willnot suffer moments, which are perhaps my last, to be embittered by hisbarbarous triumph."
"He shall have the treatment he merits," said Menteith; "let him beinstantly removed."
Sir Dugald here interposed, and spoke of Ranald's services as a guide,and his own pledge for his safety; but the high harsh tones of theoutlaw drowned his voice.
"No," said he, "be rack and gibbet the word! let me wither betweenheaven and earth, and gorge the hawks and eagles of Ben-Nevis; and soshall this haughty Knight, and this triumphant Thane, never learn thesecret I alone can impart; a secret which would make Ardenvohr'sheart leap with joy, were he in the death agony, and which the Earl ofMenteith would purchase at the price of his broad earldom.--Come hither,Annot Lyle," he said, raising himself with unexpected strength; "fearnot the sight of him to whom thou hast clung in infancy. Tell theseproud men, who disdain thee as the issue of mine ancient race, that thouart no blood of ours,--no daughter of the race of the Mist, but born inhalls as lordly, and cradled on couch as soft, as ever soothed infancyin their proudest palaces."
"In the name of God," said Menteith, trembling with emotion, "if youknow aught of the birth of this lady, do thy conscience the justice todisburden it of the secret before departing from this world!"
"And bless my enemies with my dying breath?" said MacEagh, looking athim malignantly.--"Such are the maxims your priests preach--but when,or towards whom, do you practise them? Let me know first the worth of mysecret ere I part with it--What would you give, Knight of Ardenvohr, toknow that your superstitious fasts have been vain, and that there stillremains a descendant of your house?--I pause for an answer--without it,I speak not one word more.
"I could," said Sir Duncan, his voice struggling between the emotions ofdoubt, hatred, and anxiety--"I could--but that I know thy race are likethe Great Enemy, liars and murderers from the beginning--but could it betrue thou tellest me, I could almost forgive thee the injuries thou hastdone me."
"Hear it!" said Ranald; "he hath wagered deeply for a son ofDiarmid--And you, gentle Thane--the report of the camp says, that youwould purchase with life and lands the tidings that Annot Lyle was nodaughter of proscription, but of a race noble in your estimation as yourown--Well--It is for no love I tell you--The time has been that I wouldhave exchanged this secret against liberty; I am now bartering it forwhat is dearer than liberty or life.--Annot Lyle is the youngest, thesole surviving child of the Knight of Ardenvohr, who alone was savedwhen all in his halls besides was given to blood and ashes."
"Can this man speak truth?" said Annot Lyle, scarce knowing what shesaid; "or is this some strange delusion?"
"Maiden," replied Ranald, "hadst thou dwelt longer with us, thou wouldsthave better learnt to know how to distinguish the accents of truth.To that Saxon lord, and to the Knight of Ardenvohr, I will yield suchproofs of what I have spoken, that incredulity shall stand convinced.Meantime, withdraw--I loved thine infancy, I hate not thy youth--no eyehates the rose in its blossom, though it groweth upon a thorn, and forthee only do I something regret what is soon to follow. But he thatwould avenge him of his foe must not reck though the guiltless beengaged in the ruin."
"He advises well, Annot," said Lord Menteith; "in God's name retire!if--if there be aught in this, your meeting with Sir Duncan must be moreprepared for both your sakes."
"I will not part from my father, if I have found one!" said Annot--"Iwill not part from him under circumstances so terrible."
"And a father you shall ever find in me," murmured Sir Duncan.
"Then," said Menteith, "I will have MacEagh removed into an adjacentapartment, and will collect the evidence of his tale myself. Sir DugaldDalgetty will give me his attendance and assistance."
"With pleasure, my lord," answered Sir Dugald.--"I will be yourconfessor, or assessor--either or both. No one can be so fit, for I hadheard the whole story a month ago at Inverary castle--but onslaughtslike that of Ardenvohr confuse each other in my memory, which is besidesoccupied with matters of more importance."
Upon hearing this frank declaration, which was made as they left theapartment with the wounded man, Lord Menteith darted upon Dalgetty alook of extreme anger and disdain, to which the self-conceit of theworthy commander rendered him totally insensible.
