by Walter Scott
CHAPTER XII.
Their breakfast so warm to be sure they did eat, A custom in travellers mighty discreet. Prior.
The breakfast of Lady Margaret Bellenden no more resembled a modern_dejune_, than the great stone-hall at Tillietudlem could brookcomparison with a modern drawing-room. No tea, no coffee, no variety ofrolls, but solid and substantial viands,--the priestly ham, the knightlysirloin, the noble baron of beef, the princely venison pasty; whilesilver flagons, saved with difficulty from the claws of the Covenanters,now mantled, some with ale, some with mead, and some with generous wineof various qualities and descriptions. The appetites of the guests werein correspondence to the magnificence and solidity of the preparation--nopiddling--no boy's-play, but that steady and persevering exercise of thejaws which is best learned by early morning hours, and by occasional hardcommons.
Lady Margaret beheld with delight the cates which she had provideddescending with such alacrity into the persons of her honoured guests,and had little occasion to exercise, with respect to any of the companysaving Claverhouse himself, the compulsory urgency of pressing to eat, towhich, as to the peine forte et dure, the ladies of that period were inthe custom of subjecting their guests.
But the leader himself, more anxious to pay courtesy to Miss Bellenden,next whom he was placed, than to gratify his appetite, appeared somewhatnegligent of the good cheer set before him. Edith heard, without reply,many courtly speeches addressed to her, in a tone of voice of that happymodulation which could alike melt in the low tones of interestingconversation, and rise amid the din of battle, "loud as a trumpet with asilver sound." The sense that she was in the presence of the dreadfulchief upon whose fiat the fate of Henry Morton must depend--therecollection of the terror and awe which were attached to the very nameof the commander, deprived her for some time, not only of the courage toanswer, but even of the power of looking upon him. But when, emboldenedby the soothing tones of his voice, she lifted her eyes to frame somereply, the person on whom she looked bore, in his appearance at least,none of the terrible attributes in which her apprehensions had arrayedhim.
Grahame of Claverhouse was in the prime of life, rather low of stature,and slightly, though elegantly, formed; his gesture, language, andmanners, were those of one whose life had been spent among the noble andthe gay. His features exhibited even feminine regularity. An oval face, astraight and well-formed nose, dark hazel eyes, a complexion justsufficiently tinged with brown to save it from the charge of effeminacy,a short upper lip, curved upward like that of a Grecian statue, andslightly shaded by small mustachios of light brown, joined to a profusionof long curled locks of the same colour, which fell down on each side ofhis face, contributed to form such a countenance as limners love to paintand ladies to look upon.
The severity of his character, as well as the higher attributes ofundaunted and enterprising valour which even his enemies were compelledto admit, lay concealed under an exterior which seemed adapted to thecourt or the saloon rather than to the field. The same gentleness andgaiety of expression which reigned in his features seemed to inspire hisactions and gestures; and, on the whole, he was generally esteemed, atfirst sight, rather qualified to be the votary of pleasure than ofambition. But under this soft exterior was hidden a spirit unbounded indaring and in aspiring, yet cautious and prudent as that of Machiavelhimself. Profound in politics, and embued, of course, with that disregardfor individual rights which its intrigues usually generate, this leaderwas cool and collected in danger, fierce and ardent in pursuing success,careless of facing death himself, and ruthless in inflicting it uponothers. Such are the characters formed in times of civil discord, whenthe highest qualities, perverted by party spirit, and inflamed byhabitual opposition, are too often combined with vices and excesses whichdeprive them at once of their merit and of their lustre.
In endeavouring to reply to the polite trifles with which Claverhouseaccosted her, Edith showed so much confusion, that her grandmotherthought it necessary to come to her relief.
"Edith Bellenden," said the old lady, "has, from my retired mode ofliving, seen so little of those of her own sphere, that truly she canhardly frame her speech to suitable answers. A soldier is so rare a sightwith us, Colonel Grahame, that unless it be my young Lord Evandale, wehave hardly had an opportunity of receiving a gentleman in uniform. And,now I talk of that excellent young nobleman, may I enquire if I was notto have had the honour of seeing him this morning with the regiment?"
"Lord Evandale, madam, was on his march with us," answered the leader,"but I was obliged to detach him with a small party to disperse aconventicle of those troublesome scoundrels, who have had the impudenceto assemble within five miles of my head-quarters."
"Indeed!" said the old lady; "that is a height of presumption to which Iwould have thought no rebellious fanatics would have ventured to aspire.But these are strange times! There is an evil spirit in the land, ColonelGrahame, that excites the vassals of persons of rank to rebel against thevery house that holds and feeds them. There was one of my able-bodied menthe other day who plainly refused to attend the wappen-schaw at mybidding. Is there no law for such recusancy, Colonel Grahame?"
"I think I could find one," said Claverhouse, with great composure, "ifyour ladyship will inform me of the name and residence of the culprit."
"His name," said Lady Margaret, "is Cuthbert Headrigg; I can say nothingof his domicile, for ye may weel believe, Colonel Grahame, he did notdwell long in Tillietudlem, but was speedily expelled for his contumacy.I wish the lad no severe bodily injury; but incarceration, or even a fewstripes, would be a good example in this neighbourhood. His mother, underwhose influence I doubt he acted, is an ancient domestic of this family,which makes me incline to mercy; although," continued the old lady,looking towards the pictures of her husband and her sons, with which thewall was hung, and heaving, at the same time, a deep sigh, "I, ColonelGrahame, have in my ain person but little right to compassionate thatstubborn and rebellious generation. They have made me a childless widow,and, but for the protection of our sacred sovereign and his gallantsoldiers, they would soon deprive me of lands and goods, of hearth andaltar. Seven of my tenants, whose joint rent-mail may mount to wellnigh ahundred merks, have already refused to pay either cess or rent, and hadthe assurance to tell my steward that they would acknowledge neither kingnor landlord but who should have taken the Covenant."
"I will take a course with them--that is, with your ladyship'spermission," answered Claverhouse; "it would ill become me to neglect thesupport of lawful authority when it is lodged in such worthy hands asthose of Lady Margaret Bellenden. But I must needs say this country growsworse and worse daily, and reduces me to the necessity of taking measureswith the recusants that are much more consonant with my duty than with myinclinations. And, speaking of this, I must not forget that I have tothank your ladyship for the hospitality you have been pleased to extendto a party of mine who have brought in a prisoner, charged with havingresetted [Note: Resetted, i.e. received or harboured.] the murderingvillain, Balfour of Burley."
"The house of Tillietudlem," answered the lady, "hath ever been open tothe servants of his majesty, and I hope that the stones of it will nolonger rest on each other when it surceases to be as much at theircommand as at ours. And this reminds me, Colonel Grahame, that thegentleman who commands the party can hardly be said to be in his properplace in the army, considering whose blood flows in his veins; and if Imight flatter myself that any thing would be granted to my request, Iwould presume to entreat that he might be promoted on some favourableopportunity."
"Your ladyship means Sergeant Francis Stewart, whom we call Bothwell?"said Claverhouse, smiling. "The truth is, he is a little too rough in thecountry, and has not been uniformly so amenable to discipline as therules of the service require. But to instruct me how to oblige LadyMargaret Bellenden, is to lay down the law to me.--Bothwell," hecontinued, addressing the sergeant, who just then appeared at t
he door,"go kiss Lady Margaret Bellenden's hand, who interests herself in yourpromotion, and you shall have a commission the first vacancy."
Bothwell went through the salutation in the manner prescribed, but notwithout evident marks of haughty reluctance, and, when he had done so,said aloud, "To kiss a lady's hand can never disgrace a gentleman; but Iwould not kiss a man's, save the king's, to be made a general."
"You hear him," said Claverhouse, smiling, "there's the rock he splitsupon; he cannot forget his pedigree."
"I know, my noble colonel," said Bothwell, in the same tone, "that youwill not forget your promise; and then, perhaps, you may permit CornetStewart to have some recollection of his grandfather, though the Sergeantmust forget him."
"Enough of this, sir," said Claverhouse, in the tone of command which wasfamiliar to him; "and let me know what you came to report to me justnow."
"My Lord Evandale and his party have halted on the high-road with someprisoners," said Bothwell.
"My Lord Evandale?" said Lady Margaret. "Surely, Colonel Grahame, youwill permit him to honour me with his society, and to take his poordisjune here, especially considering, that even his most sacred Majestydid not pass the Tower of Tillietudlem without halting to partake of somerefreshment."
As this was the third time in the course of the conversation that LadyMargaret had adverted to this distinguished event, Colonel Grahame, asspeedily as politeness would permit, took advantage of the first pause tointerrupt the farther progress of the narrative, by saying, "We arealready too numerous a party of guests; but as I know what Lord Evandalewill suffer (looking towards Edith) if deprived of the pleasure which weenjoy, I will run the risk of overburdening your ladyship'shospitality.--Bothwell, let Lord Evandale know that Lady MargaretBellenden requests the honour of his company."
"And let Harrison take care," added Lady Margaret, "that the people andtheir horses are suitably seen to."
Edith's heart sprung to her lips during this conversation; for itinstantly occurred to her, that, through her influence over LordEvandale, she might find some means of releasing Morton from his presentstate of danger, in case her uncle's intercession with Claverhouse shouldprove ineffectual. At any other time she would have been much averse toexert this influence; for, however inexperienced in the world, her nativedelicacy taught her the advantage which a beautiful young woman gives toa young man when she permits him to lay her under an obligation. And shewould have been the farther disinclined to request any favour of LordEvandale, because the voice of the gossips in Clydesdale had, for reasonshereafter to be made known, assigned him to her as a suitor, and becauseshe could not disguise from herself that very little encouragement wasnecessary to realize conjectures which had hitherto no foundation. Thiswas the more to be dreaded, that, in the case of Lord Evandale's making aformal declaration, he had every chance of being supported by theinfluence of Lady Margaret and her other friends, and that she would havenothing to oppose to their solicitations and authority, except apredilection, to avow which she knew would be equally dangerous andunavailing. She determined, therefore, to wait the issue of her uncle'sintercession, and, should it fail, which she conjectured she should soonlearn, either from the looks or language of the open-hearted veteran, shewould then, as a last effort, make use in Morton's favour of her interestwith Lord Evandale. Her mind did not long remain in suspense on thesubject of her uncle's application.
Major Bellenden, who had done the honours of the table, laughing andchatting with the military guests who were at that end of the board, wasnow, by the conclusion of the repast, at liberty to leave his station,and accordingly took an opportunity to approach Claverhouse, requestingfrom his niece, at the same time, the honour of a particularintroduction. As his name and character were well known, the two militarymen met with expressions of mutual regard; and Edith, with a beatingheart, saw her aged relative withdraw from the company, together with hisnew acquaintance, into a recess formed by one of the arched windows ofthe hall. She watched their conference with eyes almost dazzled by theeagerness of suspense, and, with observation rendered more acute by theinternal agony of her mind, could guess, from the pantomimic gestureswhich accompanied the conversation, the progress and fate of theintercession in behalf of Henry Morton.
The first expression of the countenance of Claverhouse betokened thatopen and willing courtesy, which, ere it requires to know the nature ofthe favour asked, seems to say, how happy the party will be to confer anobligation on the suppliant. But as the conversation proceeded, the browof that officer became darker and more severe, and his features, thoughstill retaining the expression of the most perfect politeness, assumed,at least to Edith's terrified imagination, a harsh and inexorablecharacter. His lip was now compressed as if with impatience; now curledslightly upward, as if in civil contempt of the arguments urged by MajorBellenden. The language of her uncle, as far as expressed in his manner,appeared to be that of earnest intercession, urged with all theaffectionate simplicity of his character, as well as with the weightwhich his age and reputation entitled him to use. But it seemed to havelittle impression upon Colonel Grahame, who soon changed his posture, asif about to cut short the Major's importunity, and to break up theirconference with a courtly expression of regret, calculated to accompany apositive refusal of the request solicited. This movement brought them sonear Edith, that she could distinctly hear Claverhouse say, "It cannotbe, Major Bellenden; lenity, in his case, is altogether beyond the boundsof my commission, though in any thing else I am heartily desirous tooblige you.--And here comes Evandale with news, as I think.--What tidingsdo you bring us, Evandale?" he continued, addressing the young lord, whonow entered in complete uniform, but with his dress disordered, and hisboots spattered, as if by riding hard.
Claverhouse--176]
"Unpleasant news, sir," was his reply. "A large body of whigs are in armsamong the hills, and have broken out into actual rebellion. They havepublicly burnt the Act of Supremacy, that which established episcopacy,that for observing the martyrdom of Charles I., and some others, and havedeclared their intention to remain together in arms for furthering thecovenanted work of reformation."
This unexpected intelligence struck a sudden and painful surprise intothe minds of all who heard it, excepting Claverhouse.
"Unpleasant news call you them?" replied Colonel Grahame, his dark eyesflashing fire, "they are the best I have heard these six months. Now thatthe scoundrels are drawn into a body, we will make short work with them.When the adder crawls into daylight," he added, striking the heel of hisboot upon the floor, as if in the act of crushing a noxious reptile, "Ican trample him to death; he is only safe when he remains lurking in hisden or morass.--Where are these knaves?" he continued, addressing LordEvandale.
"About ten miles off among the mountains, at a place called Loudon-hill,"was the young nobleman's reply. "I dispersed the conventicle againstwhich you sent me, and made prisoner an old trumpeter of rebellion,--anintercommuned minister, that is to say,--who was in the act of exhortinghis hearers to rise and be doing in the good cause, as well as one or twoof his hearers who seemed to be particularly insolent; and from somecountry people and scouts I learned what I now tell you."
"What may be their strength?" asked his commander.
"Probably a thousand men, but accounts differ widely."
"Then," said Claverhouse, "it is time for us to be up and be doingalso--Bothwell, bid them sound to horse."
Bothwell, who, like the war-horse of scripture, snuffed the battle afaroff, hastened to give orders to six negroes, in white dresses richlylaced, and having massive silver collars and armlets. These sablefunctionaries acted as trumpeters, and speedily made the castle and thewoods around it ring with their summons.
"Must you then leave us?" said Lady Margaret, her heart sinking underrecollection of former unhappy times; "had ye not better send to learnthe force of the rebels?--O, how many a fair face hae I heard thesefearfu' sounds call away frae the Tower of Tillietudlem, that my auld eenwere ne'er to see ret
urn to it!"
"It is impossible for me to stop," said Claverhouse; "there are roguesenough in this country to make the rebels five times their strength, ifthey are not checked at once."
"Many," said Evandale, "are flocking to them already, and they give outthat they expect a strong body of the indulged presbyterians, headed byyoung Milnwood, as they call him, the son of the famous old roundhead,Colonel Silas Morton."
This speech produced a very different effect upon the hearers. Edithalmost sunk from her seat with terror, while Claverhouse darted a glanceof sarcastic triumph at Major Bellenden, which seemed to imply--"You seewhat are the principles of the young man you are pleading for."
"It's a lie--it's a d--d lie of these rascally fanatics," said the Majorhastily. "I will answer for Henry Morton as I would for my own son. He isa lad of as good church-principles as any gentleman in the Life-Guards. Imean no offence to any one. He has gone to church service with me fiftytimes, and I never heard him miss one of the responses in my life. EdithBellenden can bear witness to it as well as I. He always read on the samePrayer-book with her, and could look out the lessons as well as thecurate himself. Call him up; let him be heard for himself."
"There can be no harm in that," said Claverhouse, "whether he be innocentor guilty.--Major Allan," he said, turning to the officer next incommand, "take a guide, and lead the regiment forward to Loudon-hill bythe best and shortest road. Move steadily, and do not let the men blowthe horses; Lord Evandale and I will overtake you in a quarter of anhour. Leave Bothwell with a party to bring up the prisoners."
Allan bowed, and left the apartment, with all the officers, exceptingClaverhouse and the young nobleman. In a few minutes the sound of themilitary music and the clashing of hoofs announced that the horsemen wereleaving the castle. The sounds were presently heard only at intervals,and soon died away entirely.
While Claverhouse endeavoured to soothe the terrors of Lady Margaret, andto reconcile the veteran Major to his opinion of Morton, Evandale,getting the better of that conscious shyness which renders an ingenuousyouth diffident in approaching the object of his affections, drew near toMiss Bellenden, and accosted her in a tone of mingled respect andinterest.
"We are to leave you," he said, taking her hand, which he pressed withmuch emotion--"to leave you for a scene which is not without its dangers.Farewell, dear Miss Bellenden;--let me say for the first, and perhaps thelast time, dear Edith! We part in circumstances so singular as may excusesome solemnity in bidding farewell to one, whom I have known so long, andwhom I--respect so highly."
The manner differing from the words, seemed to express a feeling muchdeeper and more agitating than was conveyed in the phrase he made use of.It was not in woman to be utterly insensible to his modest and deep-feltexpression of tenderness. Although borne down by the misfortunes andimminent danger of the man she loved, Edith was touched by the hopelessand reverential passion of the gallant youth, who now took leave of herto rush into dangers of no ordinary description.
"I hope--I sincerely trust," she said, "there is no danger. I hope thereis no occasion for this solemn ceremonial--that these hasty insurgentswill be dispersed rather by fear than force, and that Lord Evandale willspeedily return to be what he must always be, the dear and valued friendof all in this castle."
"Of all," he repeated, with a melancholy emphasis upon the word. "But beit so--whatever is near you is dear and valued to me, and I value theirapprobation accordingly. Of our success I am not sanguine. Our numbersare so few, that I dare not hope for so speedy, so bloodless, or so safean end of this unhappy disturbance. These men are enthusiastic, resolute,and desperate, and have leaders not altogether unskilled in militarymatters. I cannot help thinking that the impetuosity of our Colonel ishurrying us against them rather prematurely. But there are few that haveless reason to shun danger than I have."
Edith had now the opportunity she wished to bespeak the young nobleman'sintercession and protection for Henry Morton, and it seemed the onlyremaining channel of interest by which he could be rescued from impendingdestruction. Yet she felt at that moment as if, in doing so, she wasabusing the partiality and confidence of the lover, whose heart was asopen before her, as if his tongue had made an express declaration. Couldshe with honour engage Lord Evandale in the service of a rival? or couldshe with prudence make him any request, or lay herself under anyobligation to him, without affording ground for hopes which she couldnever realize? But the moment was too urgent for hesitation, or even forthose explanations with which her request might otherwise have beenqualified.
"I will but dispose of this young fellow," said Claverhouse, from theother side of the hall, "and then, Lord Evandale--I am sorry to interruptagain your conversation--but then we must mount.--Bothwell, why do notyou bring up the prisoner? and, hark ye, let two files load theircarabines."
In these words, Edith conceived she heard the death-warrant of her lover.She instantly broke through the restraint which had hitherto kept hersilent.
"My Lord Evandale," she said, "this young gentleman is a particularfriend of my uncle's--your interest must be great with your colonel--letme request your intercession in his favour--it will confer on my uncle alasting obligation."
"You overrate my interest, Miss Bellenden," said Lord Evandale; "I havebeen often unsuccessful in such applications, when I have made them onthe mere score of humanity."
"Yet try once again for my uncle's sake."
"And why not for your own?" said Lord Evandale. "Will you not allow me tothink I am obliging you personally in this matter?--Are you so diffidentof an old friend that you will not allow him even the satisfaction ofthinking that he is gratifying your wishes?"
"Surely--surely," replied Edith; "you will oblige me infinitely--I aminterested in the young gentleman on my uncle's account--Lose no time,for God's sake!"
She became bolder and more urgent in her entreaties, for she heard thesteps of the soldiers who were entering with their prisoner.
"By heaven! then," said Evandale, "he shall not die, if I should die inhis place!--But will not you," he said, resuming the hand, which in thehurry of her spirits she had not courage to withdraw, "will not you grantme one suit, in return for my zeal in your service?"
"Any thing you can ask, my Lord Evandale, that sisterly affection cangive."
"And is this all," he continued, "all you can grant to my affectionliving, or my memory when dead?"
"Do not speak thus, my lord," said Edith, "you distress me, and doinjustice to yourself. There is no friend I esteem more highly, or towhom I would more readily grant every mark of regard--providing--But"--Adeep sigh made her turn her head suddenly, ere she had well uttered thelast word; and, as she hesitated how to frame the exception with whichshe meant to close the sentence, she became instantly aware she had beenoverheard by Morton, who, heavily ironed and guarded by soldiers, was nowpassing behind her in order to be presented to Claverhouse. As their eyesmet each other, the sad and reproachful expression of Morton's glanceseemed to imply that he had partially heard, and altogethermisinterpreted, the conversation which had just passed. There wanted butthis to complete Edith's distress and confusion. Her blood, which rushedto her brow, made a sudden revulsion to her heart, and left her as paleas death. This change did not escape the attention of Evandale, whosequick glance easily discovered that there was between the prisoner andthe object of his own attachment, some singular and uncommon connexion.He resigned the hand of Miss Bellenden, again surveyed the prisoner withmore attention, again looked at Edith, and plainly observed the confusionwhich she could no longer conceal.
"This," he said, after a moment's gloomy silence, "is, I believe, theyoung gentleman who gained the prize at the shooting match."
"I am not sure," hesitated Edith--"yet--I rather think not," scarceknowing what she replied.
"It is he," said Evandale, decidedly; "I know him well. A victor," hecontinued, somewhat haughtily, "ought to have interested a fair spectatormore deeply."
He then turned from Edit
h, and advancing towards the table at whichClaverhouse now placed himself, stood at a little distance, resting onhis sheathed broadsword, a silent, but not an unconcerned, spectator ofthat which passed.
