by Walter Scott
CHAPTER FOURTEENTH.
The spirit I have seen May be the devil. And the devil has power To assume a pleasing shape. Hamlet.
Witchcraft and demonology, as we have already had occasion to remark, wereat this period believed in by almost all ranks, but more especially amongthe stricter classes of Presbyterians, whose government, when their partywere at the head of the state, had been much sullied by their eagernessto inquire into and persecute these imaginary crimes. Now, in this pointof view, also, Saint Leonard's Crags and the adjacent Chase were adreaded and ill-reputed district. Not only had witches held theirmeetings there, but even of very late years the enthusiast or impostor,mentioned in the _Pandaemonium_ of Richard Bovet, Gentleman,* had, amongthe recesses of these romantic cliffs, found his way into the hiddenretreats where the fairies revel in the bowels of the earth.
* Note I. The Fairy Boy of Leith.
With all these legends Jeanie Deans was too well acquainted to escapethat strong impression which they usually make on the imagination.Indeed, relations of this ghostly kind had been familiar to her from herinfancy, for they were the only relief which her father's conversationafforded from controversial argument, or the gloomy history of thestrivings and testimonies, escapes, captures, tortures, and executions ofthose martyrs of the Covenant, with whom it was his chiefest boast to sayhe had been acquainted. In the recesses of mountains, in caverns, and inmorasses, to which these persecuted enthusiasts were so ruthlesslypursued, they conceived they had often to contend with the visibleassaults of the Enemy of mankind, as in the cities, and in the cultivatedfields, they were exposed to those of the tyrannical government and theirsoldiery. Such were the terrors which made one of their gifted seersexclaim, when his companion returned to him, after having left him alonein a haunted cavern in Sorn in Galloway, "It is hard living in thisworld-incarnate devils above the earth, and devils under the earth! Satanhas been here since ye went away, but I have dismissed him by resistance;we will be no more troubled with him this night." David Deans believedthis, and many other such ghostly encounters and victories, on the faithof the Ansars, or auxiliaries of the banished prophets. This event wasbeyond David's remembrance. But he used to tell with great awe, yet notwithout a feeling of proud superiority to his auditors, how he himselfhad been present at a field-meeting at Crochmade, when the duty of theday was interrupted by the apparition of a tall black man, who, in theact of crossing a ford to join the congregation, lost ground, and wascarried down apparently by the force of the stream. All were instantly atwork to assist him, but with so little success, that ten or twelve stoutmen, who had hold of the rope which they had cast in to his aid, wererather in danger to be dragged into the stream, and lose their own lives,than likely to save that of the supposed perishing man. "But famous JohnSemple of Carspharn," David Deans used to say with exultation, "saw thewhaup in the rape.--'Quit the rope,' he cried to us (for I that was but acallant had a hand o' the rape mysell), 'it is the Great Enemy! he willburn, but not drown; his design is to disturb the good wark, by raisingwonder and confusion in your minds; to put off from your spirits all thatye hae heard and felt.'--Sae we let go the rape," said David, "and hewent adown the water screeching and bullering like a Bull of Bashan, ashe's ca'd in Scripture."*
* Note J. Intercourse of the Covenanters with the invisible world.
Trained in these and similar legends, it was no wonder that Jeanie beganto feel an ill-defined apprehension, not merely of the phantoms whichmight beset her way, but of the quality, nature, and purpose of the beingwho had thus appointed her a meeting, at a place and hour of horror, andat a time when her mind must be necessarily full of those tempting andensnaring thoughts of grief and despair, which were supposed to laysufferers particularly open to the temptations of the Evil One. If suchan idea had crossed even Butler's well-informed mind, it was calculatedto make a much stronger impression upon hers. Yet firmly believing thepossibility of an encounter so terrible to flesh and blood, Jeanie, witha degree of resolution of which we cannot sufficiently estimate themerit, because the incredulity of the age has rendered us strangers tothe nature and extent of her feelings, persevered in her determinationnot to omit an opportunity of doing something towards saving her sister,although, in the attempt to avail herself of it, she might be exposed todangers so dreadful to her imagination. So, like Christiana in thePilgrim's Progress, when traversing with a timid yet resolved step theterrors of the Valley of the Shadow of Death, she glided on by rock andstone, "now in glimmer and now in gloom," as her path lay throughmoonlight or shadow, and endeavoured to overpower the suggestions offear, sometimes by fixing her mind upon the distressed condition of hersister, and the duty she lay under to afford her aid, should that be inher power; and more frequently by recurring in mental prayer to theprotection of that Being to whom night is as noon-day.
Thus drowning at one time her fears by fixing her mind on a subject ofoverpowering interest, and arguing them down at others by referringherself to the protection of the Deity, she at length approached theplace assigned for this mysterious conference.
It was situated in the depth of the valley behind Salisbury Crags, whichhas for a background the north-western shoulder of the mountain calledArthur's Seat, on whose descent still remain the ruins of what was once achapel, or hermitage, dedicated to St. Anthony the Eremite. A better sitefor such a building could hardly have been selected; for the chapel,situated among the rude and pathless cliffs, lies in a desert, even inthe immediate vicinity of a rich, populous, and tumultuous capital: andthe hum of the city might mingle with the orisons of the recluses,conveying as little of worldly interest as if it had been the roar of thedistant ocean. Beneath the steep ascent on which these ruins are stillvisible, was, and perhaps is still pointed out, the place where thewretch Nichol Muschat, who has been already mentioned in these pages, hadclosed a long scene of cruelty towards his unfortunate wife, by murderingher, with circumstances of uncommon barbarity.*
* See Note G. Muschat's Cairn.
The execration in which the man's crime was held extended itself to theplace where it was perpetrated, which was marked by a small _cairn,_ orheap of stones, composed of those which each chance passenger had thrownthere in testimony of abhorrence, and on the principle, it would seem, ofthe ancient British malediction, "May you have a cairn for yourburial-place!"
Muschat's Cairn--221]
As our heroine approached this ominous and unhallowed spot, she pausedand looked to the moon, now rising broad in the north-west, and sheddinga more distinct light than it had afforded during her walk thither.Eyeing the planet for a moment, she then slowly and fearfully turned herhead towards the cairn, from which it was at first averted. She was atfirst disappointed. Nothing was visible beside the little pile of stones,which shone grey in the moonlight. A multitude of confused suggestionsrushed on her mind. Had her correspondent deceived her, and broken hisappointment?--was he too tardy at the appointment he had made?--or hadsome strange turn of fate prevented him from appearing as heproposed?--or, if he were an unearthly being, as her secretapprehensions suggested, was it his object merely to delude her withfalse hopes, and put her to unnecessary toil and terror, according tothe nature, as she had heard, of those wandering demons?--or did hepurpose to blast her with the sudden horrors of his presence when shehad come close to the place of rendezvous? These anxious reflections didnot prevent her approaching to the cairn with a pace that, though slow,was determined.
When she was within two yards of the heap of stones, a figure rosesuddenly up from behind it, and Jeanie scarce forbore to scream aloud atwhat seemed the realisation of the most frightful of her anticipations.She constrained herself to silence, however, and, making a dead pause,suffered the figure to open the conversation, which he did, by asking, ina voice which agitation rendered tremulous and hollow, "Are you thesister of that ill-fated young woman?"
"I am--I am the sister of Effie
Deans!" exclaimed Jeanie. "And as everyou hope God will hear you at your need, tell me, if you can tell, whatcan be done to save her!"
"I do _not_ hope God will hear me at my need," was the singular answer."I do not deserve--I do not expect he will." This desperate language heuttered in a tone calmer than that with which he had at first spoken,probably because the shook of first addressing her was what he felt mostdifficult to overcome. Jeanie remained mute with horror to hear languageexpressed so utterly foreign to all which she had ever been acquaintedwith, that it sounded in her ears rather like that of a fiend than of ahuman being. The stranger pursued his address to her, without seeming tonotice her surprise. "You see before you a wretch, predestined to evilhere and hereafter."
"For the sake of Heaven, that hears and sees us," said Jeanie, "dinnaspeak in this desperate fashion! The gospel is sent to the chief ofsinners--to the most miserable among the miserable."
"Then should I have my own share therein," said the stranger, "if youcall it sinful to have been the destruction of the mother that boreme--of the friend that loved me--of the woman that trusted me--of theinnocent child that was born to me. If to have done all this is to be asinner, and survive it is to be miserable, then am I most guilty and mostmiserable indeed."
"Then you are the wicked cause of my sister's ruin?" said Jeanie, with anatural touch of indignation expressed in her tone of voice.
"Curse me for it, if you will," said the stranger; "I have well deservedit at your hand."
"It is fitter for me," said Jeanie, "to pray to God to forgive you."
"Do as you will, how you will, or what you will," he replied, withvehemence; "only promise to obey my directions, and save your sister'slife."
"I must first know," said Jeanie, "the means you would have me use in herbehalf."
"No!--you must first swear--solemnly swear, that you will employ themwhen I make them known to you."
"Surely, it is needless to swear that I will do all that is lawful to aChristian to save the life of my sister?"
"I will have no reservation!" thundered the stranger; "lawful orunlawful, Christian or heathen, you shall swear to do my hest, and act bymy counsel, or--you little know whose wrath you provoke!"
"I will think on what you have said," said Jeanie, who began to get muchalarmed at the frantic vehemence of his manner, and disputed in her ownmind, whether she spoke to a maniac, or an apostate spirit incarnate--"Iwill think on what you say, and let you ken to-morrow."
"To-morrow!" exclaimed the man with a laugh of scorn--"And where will Ibe to-morrow?--or, where will you be to-night, unless you swear to walkby my counsel?--there was one accursed deed done at this spot before now;and there shall be another to match it, unless you yield up to myguidance body and soul."
As he spoke, he offered a pistol at the unfortunate young woman. Sheneither fled nor fainted, but sunk on her knees, and asked him to spareher life.
"Is that all you have to say?" said the unmoved ruffian.
"Do not dip your hands in the blood of a defenceless creature that hastrusted to you," said Jeanie, still on her knees.
"Is that all you can say for your life?--Have you no promise togive?--Will you destroy your sister, and compel me to shed more blood?"
"I can promise nothing," said Jeanie, "which is unlawful for aChristian."
He cocked the weapon, and held it towards her.
"May God forgive you!" she said, pressing her hands forcibly against hereyes.
"D--n!" muttered the man; and, turning aside from her, he uncocked thepistol, and replaced it in his pocket--"I am a villain," he said,"steeped in guilt and wretchedness, but not wicked enough to do you anyharm! I only wished to terrify you into my measures--She hears menot--she is gone!--Great God! what a wretch am I become!"
As he spoke, she recovered herself from an agony which partook of thebitterness of death; and, in a minute or two, through the strong exertionof her natural sense and courage, collected herself sufficiently tounderstand he intended her no personal injury.
"No!" he repeated; "I would not add to the murder of your sister, and ofher child, that of any one belonging to her!--Mad, frantic, as I am, andunrestrained by either fear or mercy, given up to the possession of anevil being, and forsaken by all that is good, I would not hurt you, werethe world offered me for a bribe! But, for the sake of all that is dearto you, swear you will follow my counsel. Take this weapon, shoot methrough the head, and with your own hand revenge your sister's wrong,only follow the course--the only course, by which her life can be saved."
"Alas! is she innocent or guilty?"
"She is guiltless--guiltless of every thing, but of having trusted avillain!--Yet, had it not been for those that were worse than I am--yes,worse than I am, though I am bad indeed--this misery had not befallen."
"And my sister's child--does it live?" said Jeanie.
"No; it was murdered--the new-born infant was barbarously murdered," heuttered in a low, yet stern and sustained voice.--"but," he addedhastily, "not by her knowledge or consent."
"Then, why cannot the guilty be brought to justice, and the innocentfreed?"
"Torment me not with questions which can serve no purpose," he sternlyreplied--"The deed was done by those who are far enough from pursuit, andsafe enough from discovery!--No one can save Effie but yourself."
"Woe's me! how is it in my power?" asked Jeanie, in despondency.
"Hearken to me!--You have sense--you can apprehend my meaning--I willtrust you. Your sister is innocent of the crime charged against her."
"Thank God for that!" said Jeanie.
"Be still and hearken!--The person who assisted her in her illnessmurdered the child; but it was without the mother's knowledge orconsent--She is therefore guiltless, as guiltless as the unhappyinnocent, that but gasped a few minutes in this unhappy world--thebetter was its hap, to be so soon at rest. She is innocent as thatinfant, and yet she must die--it is impossible to clear her of the law!"
"Cannot the wretches be discovered, and given up to punishment?" saidJeanie.
"Do you think you will persuade those who are hardened in guilt to die tosave another?--Is that the reed you would lean to?"
"But you said there was a remedy," again gasped out the terrified youngwoman.
"There is," answered the stranger, "and it is in your own hands. The blowwhich the law aims cannot be broken by directly encountering it, but itmay be turned aside. You saw your sister during the period preceding thebirth of her child--what is so natural as that she should have mentionedher condition to you? The doing so would, as their cant goes, take thecase from under the statute, for it removes the quality of concealment. Iknow their jargon, and have had sad cause to know it; and the quality ofconcealment is essential to this statutory offence.*
* Note K. Child Murder.
Nothing is so natural as that Effie should have mentioned her conditionto you--think--reflect--I am positive that she did."
"Woe's me!" said Jeanie, "she never spoke to me on the subject, but gratsorely when I spoke to her about her altered looks, and the change on herspirits."
"You asked her questions on the subject?" he said eagerly. "You _must_remember her answer was, a confession that she had been ruined by avillain--yes, lay a strong emphasis on that--a cruel false villain callit--any other name is unnecessary; and that she bore under her bosom theconsequences of his guilt and her folly; and that he had assured her hewould provide safely for her approaching illness.--Well he kept hisword!" These last words he spoke as if it were to himself, and with aviolent gesture of self-accusation, and then calmly proceeded, "You willremember all this?--That is all that is necessary to be said."
"But I cannot remember," answered Jeanie, with simplicity, "that whichEffie never told me."
"Are you so dull--so very dull of apprehension?" he exclaimed, suddenlygrasping her arm, and holding it firm in his hand. "I tell you" (speakingbetween his teeth, and under his breath, but with great energy), "you_must_ remember that she told you all this, whet
her she ever said asyllable of it or no. You must repeat this tale, in which there is nofalsehood, except in so far as it was not told to you, before theseJustices--Justiciary--whatever they call their bloodthirsty court, andsave your sister from being murdered, and them from becoming murderers.Do not hesitate--I pledge life and salvation, that in saying what I havesaid, you will only speak the simple truth."
"But," replied Jeanie, whose judgment was too accurate not to see thesophistry of this argument, "I shall be man-sworn in the very thing inwhich my testimony is wanted, for it is the concealment for which poorEffie is blamed, and you would make me tell a falsehood anent it."
"I see," he said, "my first suspicions of you were right, and that youwill let your sister, innocent, fair, and guiltless, except in trusting avillain, die the death of a murderess, rather than bestow the breath ofyour mouth and the sound of your voice to save her."
"I wad ware the best blood in my body to keep her skaithless," saidJeanie, weeping in bitter agony, "but I canna change right into wrang, ormake that true which is false."
"Foolish, hardhearted girl," said the stranger, "are you afraid of whatthey may do to you? I tell you, even the retainers of the law, who courselife as greyhounds do hares, will rejoice at the escape of a creature soyoung--so beautiful, that they will not suspect your tale; that, if theydid suspect it, they would consider you as deserving, not only offorgiveness, but of praise for your natural affection."
"It is not man I fear," said Jeanie, looking upward; "the God, whose nameI must call on to witness the truth of what I say, he will know thefalsehood."
"And he will know the motive," said the stranger, eagerly; "he will knowthat you are doing this--not for lucre of gain, but to save the life ofthe innocent, and prevent the commission of a worse crime than that whichthe law seeks to avenge."
"He has given us a law," said Jeanie, "for the lamp of our path; if westray from it we err against knowledge--I may not do evil, even that goodmay come out of it. But you--you that ken all this to be true, which Imust take on your word--you that, if I understood what you said e'en now,promised her shelter and protection in her travail, why do not _you_ stepforward, and bear leal and soothfast evidence in her behalf, as ye maywith a clear conscience?"
"To whom do you talk of a clear conscience, woman?" said he, with asudden fierceness which renewed her terrors,--"to _me?_--I have not knownone for many a year. Bear witness in her behalf?--a proper witness, thateven to speak these few words to a woman of so little consequence asyourself, must choose such an hour and such a place as this. When you seeowls and bats fly abroad, like larks, in the sunshine, you may expect tosee such as I am in the assemblies of men.--Hush--listen to that."
A voice was heard to sing one of those wild and monotonous strains socommon in Scotland, and to which the natives of that country chant theirold ballads. The sound ceased--then came nearer, and was renewed; thestranger listened attentively, still holding Jeanie by the arm (as shestood by him in motionless terror), as if to prevent her interrupting thestrain by speaking or stirring. When the sounds were renewed, the wordswere distinctly audible:
"When the glede's in the blue cloud, The lavrock lies still; When the hound's in' the green-wood, The hind keeps the hill."
The person who sung kept a strained and powerful voice at its highestpitch, so that it could be heard at a very considerable distance. As thesong ceased, they might hear a stifled sound, as of steps and whispers ofpersons approaching them. The song was again raised, but the tune waschanged:
"O sleep ye sound, Sir James, she said, When ye suld rise and ride; There's twenty men, wi' bow and blade, Are seeking where ye hide."
"I dare stay no longer," said the stranger; "return home, or remain tillthey come up--you have nothing to fear--but do not tell you saw me--yoursister's fate is in your hands." So saying, he turned from her, and witha swift, yet cautiously noiseless step, plunged into the darkness on theside most remote from the sounds which they heard approaching, and wassoon lost to her sight. Jeanie remained by the cairn terrified beyondexpression, and uncertain whether she ought to fly homeward with all thespeed she could exert, or wait the approach of those who were advancingtowards her. This uncertainty detained her so long, that she nowdistinctly saw two or three figures already so near to her, that aprecipitate flight would have been equally fruitless and impolitic.
CHAPTER FIFTEENTH.
