by Walter Scott
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIXTH.
But who is this? what thing of sea or land-- Female of sex it seems-- That so bedeck'd, ornate, and gay, Comes this way sailing? Milton.
Not long after the incident of the Bible and the bank-notes, Fortuneshowed that she could surprise Mrs Butler as well as her husband. TheMinister, in order to accomplish the various pieces of business which hisunwonted visit to Edinburgh rendered necessary, had been under thenecessity of setting out from home in the latter end of the month ofFebruary, concluding justly that he would find the space betwixt hisdeparture and the term of Whitsunday (24th May) short enough for thepurpose of bringing forward those various debtors of old David Deans, outof whose purses a considerable part of the price of his new purchase wasto be made good.
Jeanie was thus in the unwonted situation of inhabiting a lonely house,and she felt yet more solitary from the death of the good old man whoused to divide her cares with her husband. Her children were herprincipal resource, and to them she paid constant attention.
It happened a day or two after Butler's departure that, while she wasengaged in some domestic duties, she heard a dispute among the youngfolk, which, being maintained with obstinacy, appeared to call for herinterference. All came to their natural umpire with their complaints.Femie, not yet ten years old, charged Davie and Reubie with an attempt totake away her book by force; and David and Reuben replied, the elder,"That it was not a book for Femie to read," and Reuben, "That it wasabout a bad woman."
"Where did you get the book, ye little hempie?" said Mrs. Butler. "Howdare ye touch papa's books when he is away?" But the little lady, holdingfast a sheet of crumpled paper, declared "It was nane o' papa's books,and May Hettly had taken it off the muckle cheese which came fromInverara;" for, as was very natural to suppose, a friendly intercourse,with interchange of mutual civilities, was kept up from time to timebetween Mrs. Dolly Dutton, now Mrs. MacCorkindale, and her formerfriends.
Jeanie took the subject of contention out of the child's hand, to satisfyherself of the propriety of her studies; but how much was she struck whenshe read upon the title of the broadside-sheet, "The Last Speech,Confession, and Dying Words of Margaret MacCraw, or Murdockson, executedon Harabee Hill, near Carlisle, the day of 1737." It was, indeed, oneof those papers which Archibald had bought at Longtown, when hemonopolised the pedlar's stock, which Dolly had thrust into her trunk outof sheer economy. One or two copies, it seems, had remained in herrepositories at Inverary, till she chanced to need them in packing acheese, which, as a very superior production, was sent, in the way ofcivil challenge, to the dairy at Knocktarlitie.
The title of this paper, so strangely fallen into the very hands fromwhich, in well-meant respect to her feelings, it had been so longdetained, was of itself sufficiently startling; but the narrative itselfwas so interesting, that Jeanie, shaking herself loose from the children,ran upstairs to her own apartment, and bolted the door, to peruse itwithout interruption.
The narrative, which appeared to have been drawn up, or at leastcorrected, by the clergyman who attended this unhappy woman, stated thecrime for which she suffered to have been "her active part in thatatrocious robbery and murder, committed near two years since nearHaltwhistle, for which the notorious Frank Levitt was committed for trialat Lancaster assizes. It was supposed the evidence of the accompliceThomas Tuck, commonly called Tyburn Tom, upon which the woman had beenconvicted, would weigh equally heavy against him; although many wereinclined to think it was Tuck himself who had struck the fatal blow,according to the dying statement of Meg Murdockson."
After a circumstantial account of the crime for which she suffered, therewas a brief sketch of Margaret's life. It was stated that she was aScotchwoman by birth, and married a soldier in the Cameronianregiment--that she long followed the camp, and had doubtless acquired infields of battle, and similar scenes, that ferocity and love of plunderfor which she had been afterwards distinguished--that her husband,having obtained his discharge, became servant to a beneficed clergymanof high situation and character in Lincolnshire, and that she acquiredthe confidence and esteem of that honourable family. She had lost thismany years after her husband's death, it was stated, in consequence ofconniving at the irregularities of her daughter with the heir of thefamily, added to the suspicious circumstances attending the birth of achild, which was strongly suspected to have met with foul play, in orderto preserve, if possible, the girl's reputation. After this she had leda wandering life both in England and Scotland, under colour sometimes oftelling fortunes, sometimes of driving a trade in smuggled wares, but,in fact, receiving stolen goods, and occasionally actively joining inthe exploits by which they were obtained. Many of her crimes she hadboasted of after conviction, and there was one circumstance for whichshe seemed to feel a mixture of joy and occasional compunction. When shewas residing in the suburbs of Edinburgh during the preceding summer, agirl, who had been seduced by one of her confederates, was intrusted toher charge, and in her house delivered of a male infant. Her daughter,whose mind was in a state of derangement ever since she had lost her ownchild, according to the criminal's account, carried off the poor girl'sinfant, taking it for her own, of the reality of whose death she attimes could not be persuaded.
Margaret Murdockson stated that she, for some time, believed her daughterhad actually destroyed the infant in her mad fits, and that she gave thefather to understand so, but afterwards learned that a female strollerhad got it from her. She showed some compunction at having separatedmother and child, especially as the mother had nearly suffered death,being condemned, on the Scotch law, for the supposed murder of herinfant. When it was asked what possible interest she could have had inexposing the unfortunate girl to suffer for a crime she had notcommitted, she asked, if they thought she was going to put her owndaughter into trouble to save another? She did not know what the Scotchlaw would have done to her for carrying the child away. This answer wasby no means satisfactory to the clergyman, and he discovered, by closeexamination, that she had a deep and revengeful hatred against the youngperson whom she had thus injured. But the paper intimated, that, whateverbesides she had communicated upon this subject was confided by her inprivate to the worthy and reverend Archdeacon who had bestowed suchparticular pains in affording her spiritual assistance. The broadsidewent on to intimate, that, after her execution, of which the particularswere given, her daughter, the insane person mentioned more than once, andwho was generally known by the name of Madge Wildfire, had been veryill-used by the populace, under the belief that she was a sorceress, andan accomplice in her mother's crimes, and had been with difficultyrescued by the prompt interference of the police.
Such (for we omit moral reflections, and all that may seem unnecessary tothe explanation of our story) was the tenor of the broadside. To Mrs.Butler it contained intelligence of the highest importance, since itseemed to afford the most unequivocal proof of her sister's innocencerespecting the crime for which she had so nearly suffered. It is true,neither she nor her husband, nor even her father, had ever believed hercapable of touching her infant with an unkind hand when in possession ofher reason; but there was a darkness on the subject, and what might havehappened in a moment of insanity was dreadful to think upon. Besides,whatever was their own conviction, they had no means of establishingEffie's innocence to the world, which, according to the tenor of thisfugitive publication, was now at length completely manifested by thedying confession of the person chiefly interested in concealing it.
After thanking God for a discovery so dear to her feelings, Mrs. Butlerbegan to consider what use she should make of it. To have shown it to herhusband would have been her first impulse; but, besides that he wasabsent from home, and the matter too delicate to be the subject ofcorrespondence by an indifferent penwoman, Mrs. Butler recollected thathe was not possessed of the information necessary to form a judgment uponthe occasion; and that, adhering to the rule whic
h she had considered asmost advisable, she had best transmit the information immediately to hersister, and leave her to adjust with her husband the mode in which theyshould avail themselves of it. Accordingly, she despatched a specialmessenger to Glasgow with a packet, enclosing the Confession of MargaretMurdockson, addressed, as usual, under cover, to Mr. Whiterose of York.She expected, with anxiety, an answer, but none arrived in the usualcourse of post, and she was left to imagine how many various causes mightaccount for Lady Staunton's silence. She began to be half sorry that shehad parted with the printed paper, both for fear of its having falleninto bad hands, and from the desire of regaining the document which mightbe essential to establish her sister's innocence. She was even doubtingwhether she had not better commit the whole matter to her husband'sconsideration, when other incidents occurred to divert her purpose.
Jeanie (she is a favourite, and we beg her pardon for still using thefamiliar title) had walked down to the sea-side with her children onemorning after breakfast, when the boys, whose sight was morediscriminating than hers, exclaimed, that "the Captain's coach and sixwas coming right for the shore, with ladies in it." Jeanie instinctivelybent her eyes on the approaching boat, and became soon sensible thatthere were two females in the stern, seated beside the gracious Duncan,who acted as pilot. It was a point of politeness to walk towards thelanding-place, in order to receive them, especially as she saw that theCaptain of Knockdunder was upon honour and ceremony. His piper was in thebow of the boat, sending forth music, of which one half sounded thebetter that the other was drowned by the waves and the breeze. Moreover,he himself had his brigadier wig newly frizzed, his bonnet (he hadabjured the cocked-hat) decorated with Saint George's red cross, hisuniform mounted as a captain of militia, the Duke's flag with the boar'shead displayed--all intimated parade and gala.
As Mrs. Butler approached the landing-place, she observed the Captainhand the ladies ashore with marks of great attention, and the partiesadvanced towards her, the Captain a few steps before the two ladies, ofwhom the taller and elder leaned on the shoulder of the other, who seemedto be an attendant or servant.
As they met, Duncan, in his best, most important, and deepest tone ofHighland civility, "pegged leave to introduce to Mrs. Putler,Lady--eh--eh--I hae forgotten your leddyship's name!"
"Never mind my name, sir," said the lady; "I trust Mrs. Butler will be atno loss. The Duke's letter"--And, as she observed Mrs. Butler lookconfused, she said again to Duncan somethin sharply, "Did you not sendthe letter last night, sir?"
"In troth and I didna, and I crave your leddyship's pardon; but you see,matam, I thought it would do as weel to-tay, pecause Mrs. Putler is nevertaen out o'sorts--never--and the coach was out fishing--and the gig wasgane to Greenock for a cag of prandy--and--Put here's his Grace'sletter."
"Give it me, sir," said the lady, taking it out of his hand; "since youhave not found it convenient to do me the favour to send it before me, Iwill deliver it myself."
Mrs. Butler looked with great attention, and a certain dubious feeling ofdeep interest, on the lady, who thus expressed herself with authorityover the man of authority, and to whose mandates he seemed to submit,resigning the letter with a "Just as your leddyship is pleased to orderit."
The lady was rather above the middle size, beautifully made, thoughsomething _embonpoint,_ with a hand and arm exquisitely formed. Hermanner was easy, dignified, and commanding, and seemed to evince highbirth and the habits of elevated society. She wore a travelling dress--agrey beaver hat, and a veil of Flanders lace. Two footmen, in richliveries, who got out of the barge, and lifted out a trunk andportmanteau, appeared to belong to her suite.
"As you did not receive the letter, madam, which should have served formy introduction--for I presume you are Mrs. Butler--I will not present itto you till you are so good as to admit me into your house without it."
"To pe sure, matam," said Knockdunder, "ye canna doubt Mrs. Putler willdo that.--Mrs. Putler, this is Lady--Lady--these tamned Southern namesrin out o' my head like a stane trowling down hill--put I believe she isa Scottish woman porn--the mair our credit--and I presume her leddyshipis of the house of--"
"The Duke of Argyle knows my family very well, sir," said the lady, in atone which seemed designed to silence Duncan, or, at any rate, which hadthat effect completely.
There was something about the whole of this stranger's address, and tone,and manner, which acted upon Jeanie's feelings like the illusions of adream, that tease us with a puzzling approach to reality. Something therewas of her sister in the gait and manner of the stranger, as well as inthe sound of her voice, and something also, when, lifting her veil, sheshowed features, to which, changed as they were in expression andcomplexion, she could not but attach many remembrances.
The stranger was turned of thirty certainly; but so well were herpersonal charms assisted by the power of dress, and arrangement ofornament, that she might well have passed for one-and-twenty. And herbehaviour was so steady and so composed, that, as often as Mrs. Butlerperceived anew some point of resemblance to her unfortunate sister, sooften the sustained self-command and absolute composure of the strangerdestroyed the ideas which began to arise in her imagination. She led theway silently towards the Manse, lost in a confusion of reflections, andtrusting the letter with which she was to be there intrusted, wouldafford her satisfactory explanation of what was a most puzzling andembarrassing scene.
The lady maintained in the meanwhile the manners of a stranger of rank.She admired the various points of view like one who has studied nature,and the best representations of art. At length she took notice of thechildren.
"These are two fine young mountaineers--Yours, madam, I presume?"
Jeanie replied in the affirmative. The stranger sighed, and sighed oncemore as they were presented to her by name.
"Come here, Femie," said Mrs. Butler, "and hold your head up."
"What is your daughter's name, madam?" said the lady.
"Euphemia, madam," answered Mrs. Butler.
"I thought the ordinary Scottish contraction of the name had been Effie;"replied the stranger, in a tone which went to Jeanie's heart; for in thatsingle word there was more of her sister--more of _lang syne_ ideas--thanin all the reminiscences which her own heart had anticipated, or thefeatures and manner of the stranger had suggested.
When they reached the Manse, the lady gave Mrs. Butler the letter whichshe had taken out of the hands of Knockdunder; and as she gave it shepressed her hand, adding aloud, "Perhaps, madam, you will have thegoodness to get me a little milk!"
"And me a drap of the grey-peard, if you please, Mrs. Putler," addedDuncan.
Mrs. Butler withdrew; but, deputing to May Hettly and to David the supplyof the strangers' wants, she hastened into her own room to read theletter. The envelope was addressed in the Duke of Argyle's hand, andrequested Mrs. Butler's attentions and civility to a lady of rank, aparticular friend of his late brother, Lady Staunton of Willingham, who,being recommended to drink goats' whey by the physicians, was to honourthe Lodge at Roseneath with her residence, while her husband made a shorttour in Scotland. But within the same cover, which had been given to LadyStaunton unsealed, was a letter from that lady, intended to prepare hersister for meeting her, and which, but for the Captain's negligence, sheought to have received on the preceding evening. It stated that the newsin Jeanie's last letter had been so interesting to her husband, that hewas determined to inquire farther into the confession made at Carlisle,and the fate of that poor innocent, and that, as he had been in somedegree successful, she had, by the most earnest entreaties, extortedrather than obtained his permission, under promise of observing the moststrict incognito, to spend a week or two with her sister, or in herneighbourhood, while he was prosecuting researches, to which (though itappeared to her very vainly) he seemed to attach some hopes of success.
There was a postscript, desiring that Jeanie would trust to Lady S. themanagement of their intercourse, and be content with assenting to whatshe should propose. A
fter reading and again reading the letter, Mrs.Butler hurried down stairs, divided betwixt the fear of betraying hersecret, and the desire to throw herself upon her sister's neck. Effiereceived her with a glance at once affectionate and cautionary, andimmediately proceeded to speak.
"I have been telling Mr. ------, Captain , this gentleman, Mrs. Butler,that if you could accommodate me with an apartment in your house, and aplace for Ellis to sleep, and for the two men, it would suit me betterthan the Lodge, which his Grace has so kindly placed at my disposal. I amadvised I should reside as near where the goats feed as possible."
"I have peen assuring my leddy, Mrs. Putler," said Duncan, "that thoughit could not discommode you to receive any of his Grace's visitors ormine, yet she had mooch petter stay at the Lodge; and for the gaits, thecreatures can be fetched there, in respect it is mair fitting they suldwait upon her Leddyship, than she upon the like o' them."
"By no means derange the goats for me," said Lady Staunton; "I am certainthe milk must be much better here." And this she said with languidnegligence, as one whose slightest intimation of humour is to bear downall argument.
Mrs. Butler hastened to intimate, that her house, such as it was, washeartily at the disposal of Lady Staunton; but the Captain continued toremonstrate..
"The Duke," he said, "had written"
"I will settle all that with his Grace"
"And there were the things had been sent down frae Glasco"
"Anything necessary might be sent over to the Parsonage--She would begthe favour of Mrs. Butler to show her an apartment, and of the Captain tohave her trunks, etc., sent over from Roseneath."
So she courtesied off poor Duncan, who departed, saying in his secretsoul, "Cot tamn her English impudence!--she takes possession of theminister's house as an it were her ain--and speaks to shentlemens as ifthey were pounden servants, and per tamned to her!--And there's the deerthat was shot too--but we will send it ower to the Manse, whilk will peput civil, seeing I hae prought worthy Mrs. Putler sic a fliskmahoy."--And with these kind intentions, he went to the shore to give his ordersaccordingly.
In the meantime, the meeting of the sisters was as affectionate as it wasextraordinary, and each evinced her feelings in the way proper to hercharacter. Jeanie was so much overcome by wonder, and even by awe, thather feelings were deep, stunning, and almost overpowering. Effie, on theother hand, wept, laughed, sobbed, screamed, and clapped her hands forjoy, all in the space of five minutes, giving way at once, and withoutreserve, to a natural excessive vivacity of temper, which no one,however, knew better how to restrain under the rules of artificialbreeding.
After an hour had passed like a moment in their expressions of mutualaffection, Lady Staunton observed the Captain walking with impatientsteps below the window. "That tiresome Highland fool has returned uponour hands," she said. "I will pray him to grace us with his absence."
"Hout no! hout no!" said Mrs. Butler, in a tone of entreaty; "ye maunnaaffront the Captain."
"Affront?" said Lady Staunton; "nobody is ever affronted at what I do orsay, my dear. However, I will endure him, since you think it proper."
The Captain was accordingly graciously requested by Lady Staunton toremain during dinner. During this visit his studious and punctiliouscomplaisance towards the lady of rank was happily contrasted by thecavalier air of civil familiarity in which he indulged towards theminister's wife.
"I have not been able to persuade Mrs. Butler," said Lady Staunton to theCaptain, during the interval when Jeanie had left the parlour, "to let metalk of making any recompense for storming her house, and garrisoning itin the way I have done."
"Doubtless, matam," said the Captain, "it wad ill pecome Mrs. Putler, whais a very decent pody, to make any such sharge to a lady who comes frommy house, or his Grace's, which is the same thing.--And speaking ofgarrisons, in the year forty-five, I was poot with a garrison of twentyof my lads in the house of Inver-Garry, whilk had near been unhappily,for--"
"I beg your pardon, sir--But I wish I could think of some way ofindemnifying this good lady."
"O, no need of intemnifying at all--no trouble for her, nothing at all--So, peing in the house of Inver-Garry, and the people about it beinguncanny, I doubted the warst, and--"
"Do you happen to know, sir," said Lady Staunton, "if any of these twolads, these young Butlers, I mean, show any turn for the army?"
"Could not say, indeed, my leddy," replied Knockdunder--"So, I knowingthe people to pe unchancy, and not to lippen to, and hearing a pibroch inthe wood, I pegan to pid my lads look to their flints, and then--"
"For," said Lady Staunton, with the most ruthless disregard to thenarrative which she mangled by these interruptions, "if that should bethe case, it should cost Sir George but the asking a pair of colours forone of them at the War-Office, since we have always supported Government,and never had occasion to trouble ministers."
"And if you please, my leddy," said Duncan, who began to find some savourin this proposal, "as I hae a braw weel-grown lad of a nevoy, ca'd DuncanMacGilligan, that is as pig as paith the Putler pairns putten thegither,Sir George could ask a pair for him at the same time, and it wad pe putae asking for a'."
Lady Staunton only answered this hint with a well-bred stare, which gaveno sort of encouragement.
Jeanie, who now returned, was lost in amazement at the wonderfuldifference betwixt the helpless and despairing girl, whom she had seenstretched on a flock-bed in a dungeon, expecting a violent anddisgraceful death, and last as a forlorn exile upon the midnight beach,with the elegant, well-bred, beautiful woman before her. The features,now that her sister's veil was laid aside, did not appear so extremelydifferent, as the whole manner, expression, look, and bearing. In outsideshow, Lady Staunton seemed completely a creature too soft and fair forsorrow to have touched; so much accustomed to have all her whims compliedwith by those around her, that she seemed to expect she should even besaved the trouble of forming them; and so totally unacquainted withcontradiction, that she did not even use the tone of self-will, since tobreathe a wish was to have it fulfilled. She made no ceremony of riddingherself of Duncan as soon as the evening approached; but complimented himout of the house under pretext of fatigue, with the utmost _nonchalance._
When they were alone, her sister could not help expressing her wonder atthe self-possession with which Lady Staunton sustained her part.
"I daresay you are surprised at it," said Lady Staunton composedly; "foryou, my dear Jeanie, have been truth itself from your cradle upwards; butyou must remember that I am a liar of fifteen years' standing, andtherefore must by this time be used to my character."
In fact, during the feverish tumult of feelings excited during the two orthree first days, Mrs. Butler thought her sister's manner was completelycontradictory of the desponding tone which pervaded her correspondence.She was moved to tears, indeed, by the sight of her father's grave,marked by a modest stone recording his piety and integrity; but lighterimpressions and associations had also power over her. She amused herselfwith visiting the dairy, in which she had so long been assistant, and wasso near discovering herself to May Hettly, by betraying her acquaintancewith the celebrated receipt for Dunlop cheese, that she compared herselfto Bedreddin Hassan, whom the vizier, his father-in-law, discovered byhis superlative skill in composing cream-tarts with pepper in them. Butwhen the novelty of such avocations ceased to amuse her, she showed toher sister but too plainly, that the gaudy colouring with which sheveiled her unhappiness afforded as little real comfort, as the gayuniform of the soldier when it is drawn over his mortal wound. There weremoods and moments, in which her despondence seemed to exceed even thatwhich she herself had described in her letters, and which too wellconvinced Mrs. Butler how little her sister's lot, which in appearancewas so brilliant, was in reality to be envied.
There was one source, however, from which Lady Staunton derived a puredegree of pleasure. Gifted in every particular with a higher degree ofimagination than that of her sister, she was an admirer of th
e beautiesof nature, a taste which compensates many evils to those who happen toenjoy it. Here her character of a fine lady stopped short, where sheought to have
Scream'd at ilk cleugh, and screech'd at ilka how, As loud as she had seen the worrie-cow.
On the contrary, with the two boys for her guides, she undertook long andfatiguing walks among the neighbouring mountains, to visit glens, lakes,waterfalls, or whatever scenes of natural wonder or beauty lay concealedamong their recesses. It is Wordsworth, I think, who, talking of an oldman under difficulties, remarks, with a singular attention to nature,
Whether it was care that spurr'd him, God only knows; but to the very last, He had the lightest foot in Ennerdale.
In the same manner, languid, listless, and unhappy, within doors, attimes even indicating something which approached near to contempt of thehomely accommodations of her sister's house, although she instantlyendeavoured, by a thousand kindnesses, to atone for such ebullitions ofspleen, Lady Staunton appeared to feel interest and energy while in theopen air, and traversing the mountain landscapes in society with the twoboys, whose ears she delighted with stories of what she had seen in othercountries, and what she had to show them at Willingham Manor. And they,on the other hand, exerted themselves in doing the honours ofDumbartonshire to the lady who seemed so kind, insomuch that there wasscarce a glen in the neighbouring hills to which they did not introduceher.
Upon one of these excursions, while Reuben was otherwise employed, Davidalone acted as Lady Staunton's guide, and promised to show her a cascadein the hills, grander and higher than any they had yet visited. It was awalk of five long miles, and over rough ground, varied, however, andcheered, by mountain views, and peeps now of the firth and its islands,now of distant lakes, now of rocks and precipices. The scene itself, too,when they reached it, amply rewarded the labour of the walk. A singleshoot carried a considerable stream over the face of a black rock, whichcontrasted strongly in colour with the white foam of the cascade, and, atthe depth of about twenty feet, another rock intercepted the view of thebottom of the fall. The water, wheeling out far beneath, swept round thecrag, which thus bounded their view, and tumbled down the rocky glen in atorrent of foam. Those who love nature always desire to penetrate intoits utmost recesses, and Lady Staunton asked David whether there was notsome mode of gaining a view of the abyss at the foot of the fall. He saidthat he knew a station on a shelf on the farther side of the interceptingrock, from which the whole waterfall was visible, but that the road to itwas steep and slippery and dangerous. Bent, however, on gratifying hercuriosity, she desired him to lead the way; and accordingly he did soover crag and stone, anxiously pointing out to her the resting-placeswhere she ought to step, for their mode of advancing soon ceased to bewalking, and became scrambling.
In this manner, clinging like sea-birds to the face of the rock, theywere enabled at length to turn round it, and came full in front of thefall, which here had a most tremendous aspect, boiling, roaring, andthundering with unceasing din, into a black cauldron, a hundred feet atleast below them, which resembled the crater of a volcano. The noise, thedashing of the waters, which gave an unsteady appearance to all aroundthem, the trembling even of the huge crag on which they stood, theprecariousness of their footing, for there was scarce room for them tostand on the shelf of rock which they had thus attained, had so powerfulan effect on the senses and imagination of Lady Staunton, that she calledout to David she was falling, and would in fact have dropped from thecrag had he not caught hold of her. The boy was bold and stout of hisage--still he was but fourteen years old, and as his assistance gave noconfidence to Lady Staunton, she felt her situation become reallyperilous. The chance was, that, in the appalling novelty of thecircumstances, he might have caught the infection of her panic, in whichcase it is likely that both must have perished. She now screamed withterror, though without hope of calling any one to her assistance. To heramazement, the scream was answered by a whistle from above, of a tone soclear and shrill, that it was heard even amid the noise of the waterfall.
In this moment of terror and perplexity, a human face, black, and havinggrizzled hair hanging down over the forehead and cheeks, and mixing withmustaches and a beard of the same colour, and as much matted and tangled,looked down on them from a broken part of the rock above.
"It is the Enemy!" said the boy, who had very nearly become incapable ofsupporting Lady Staunton.
"No, no," she exclaimed, inaccessible to supernatural terrors, andrestored to the presence of mind of which she had been deprived by thedanger of her situation, "it is a man--For God's sake, my friend, helpus!"
The face glared at them, but made no answer; in a second or twoafterwards, another, that of a young lad, appeared beside the first,equally swart and begrimed, but having tangled black hair, descending inelf-locks, which gave an air of wildness and ferocity to the wholeexpression of the countenance. Lady Staunton repeated her entreaties,clinging to the rock with more energy, as she found that, from thesuperstitious terror of her guide, he became incapable of supporting her.Her words were probably drowned in the roar of the falling stream, for,though she observed the lips of the young being whom she supplicated moveas he spoke in reply, not a word reached her ear.
A moment afterwards it appeared he had not mistaken the nature of hersupplication, which, indeed, was easy to be understood from her situationand gestures. The younger apparition disappeared, and immediately afterlowered a ladder of twisted osiers, about eight feet in length, and madesigns to David to hold it fast while the lady ascended. Despair givescourage, and finding herself in this fearful predicament, Lady Stauntondid not hesitate to risk the ascent by the precarious means which thisaccommodation afforded; and, carefully assisted by the person who hadthus providentially come to her aid, she reached the summit in safety.She did not, however, even look around her until she saw her nephewlightly and actively follow her examples although there was now no one tohold the ladder fast. When she saw him safe she looked round, and couldnot help shuddering at the place and company in which she found herself.They were on a sort of platform of rock, surrounded on every side byprecipices, or overhanging cliffs, and which it would have been scarcepossible for any research to have discovered, as it did not seem to becommanded by any accessible position. It was partly covered by a hugefragment of stone, which, having fallen from the cliffs above, had beenintercepted by others in its descent, and jammed so as to serve for asloping roof to the farther part of the broad shelf or platform on whichthey stood. A quantity of withered moss and leaves, strewed beneath thisrude and wretched shelter, showed the lairs,--they could not be termedthe beds,--of those who dwelt in this eyrie, for it deserved no othername. Of these, two were before Lady Staunton. One, the same who hadafforded such timely assistance, stood upright before them, a tall,lathy, young savage; his dress a tattered plaid and philabeg, no shoes,no stockings, no hat or bonnet, the place of the last being supplied byhis hair, twisted and matted like the _glibbe_ of the ancient wild Irish,and, like theirs, forming a natural thick-set stout enough to bear offthe cut of a sword. Yet the eyes of the lad were keen and sparkling; hisgesture free and noble, like that of all savages. He took little noticeof David Butler, but gazed with wonder on Lady Staunton, as a beingdifferent probably in dress, and superior in beauty, to anything he hadever beheld. The old man, whose face they had first seen, remainedrecumbent in the same posture as when he had first looked down on them,only his face was turned towards them as he lay and looked up with a lazyand listless apathy, which belied the general expression of his dark andrugged features. He seemed a very tall man, but was scarce better cladthan the younger. He had on a loose Lowland greatcoat, and ragged tartantrews or pantaloons. All around looked singularly wild and unpropitious.Beneath the brow of the incumbent rock was a charcoal fire, on whichthere was a still working, with bellows, pincers, hammers, a movableanvil, and other smith's tools; three guns, with two or three sacks andbarrels, were d
isposed against the wall of rock, under shelter of thesuperincumbent crag; a dirk and two swords, and a Lochaber axe, layscattered around the fire, of which the red glare cast a ruddy tinge onthe precipitous foam and mist of the cascade. The lad, when he hadsatisfied his curiosity with staring at Lady Staunton, fetched an earthenjar and a horn-cup, into which he poured some spirits, apparently hotfrom the still, and offered them successively to the lady and to the boy.Both declined, and the young savage quaffed off the draught, which couldnot amount to less than three ordinary glasses. He then fetched anotherladder from the corner of the cavern, if it could be termed so, adjustedit against the transverse rock, which served as a roof, and made signsfor the lady to ascend it, while he held it fast below. She did so, andfound herself on the top of a broad rock, near the brink of the chasminto which the brook precipitates itself. She could see the crest of thetorrent flung loose down the rock, like the mane of a wild horse, butwithout having any view of the lower platform from which she hadascended.
David was not suffered to mount so easily; the lad, from sport or love ofmischief, shook the ladder a good deal as he ascended, and seemed toenjoy the terror of young Butler, so that, when they had both come up,they looked on each other with no friendly eyes. Neither, however, spoke.The young caird, or tinker, or gipsy, with a good deal of attention,assisted Lady Staunton up a very perilous ascent which she had still toencounter, and they were followed by David Butler, until all three stoodclear of the ravine on the side of a mountain, whose sides were coveredwith heather and sheets of loose shingle. So narrow was the chasm out ofwhich they ascended, that, unless when they were on the very verge, theeye passed to the other side without perceiving the existence of a rentso fearful, and nothing was seen of the cataract, though its deep hoarsevoice was still heard.
Lady Staunton, freed from the danger of rock and river, had now a newsubject of anxiety. Her two guides confronted each other with angrycountenances; for David, though younger by two years at least, and muchshorter, was a stout, well-set, and very bold boy.
"You are the black-coat's son of Knocktarlitie," said the young caird;"if you come here again, I'll pitch you down the linn like a foot-ball."
"Ay, lad, ye are very short to be sae lang," retorted young Butlerundauntedly, and measuring his opponent's height with an undismayed eye;"I am thinking you are a gillie of Black Donacha; if you come down theglen, we'll shoot you like a wild buck."
"You may tell your father," said the lad, "that the leaf on the timber isthe last he shall see--we will hae amends for the mischief he has done tous."
"I hope he will live to see mony simmers, and do ye muckle mair,"answered David.
More might have passed, but Lady Staunton stepped between them with herpurse in her hand, and taking out a guinea, of which it containedseveral, visible through the net-work, as well as some silver in theopposite end, offered it to the caird.
"The white siller, lady--the white siller," said the young savage, towhom the value of gold was probably unknown. Lady Staunton poured whatsilver she had into his hand, and the juvenile savage snatched itgreedily, and made a sort of half inclination of acknowledgment andadieu.
"Let us make haste now, Lady Staunton," said David, "for there will belittle peace with them since they hae seen your purse."
They hurried on as fast as they could; but they had not descended thehill a hundred yards or two before they heard a halloo behind them, andlooking back, saw both the old man and the young one pursuing them withgreat speed, the former with a gun on his shoulder. Very fortunately, atthis moment a sportsman, a gamekeeper of the Duke, who was engaged instalking deer, appeared on the face of the hill. The bandits stopped onseeing him, and Lady Staunton hastened to put herself under hisprotection. He readily gave them his escort home, and it required hisathletic form and loaded rifle to restore to the lady her usualconfidence and courage.
Donald listened with much gravity to the account of their adventure; andanswered with great composure to David's repeated inquiries, whether hecould have suspected that the cairds had been lurking there,--"Inteed,Master Tavie, I might hae had some guess that they were there, orthereabout, though maybe I had nane. But I am aften on the hill; and theyare like wasps--they stang only them that fashes them; sae, for my part,I make a point not to see them, unless I were ordered out on the preceeseerrand by MacCallummore or Knockdunder, whilk is a clean different case."
They reached the Manse late; and Lady Staunton, who had suffered muchboth from fright and fatigue, never again permitted her love of thepicturesque to carry her so far among the mountains without a strongerescort than David, though she acknowledged he had won the stand ofcolours by the intrepidity he had displayed, so soon as assured he had todo with an earthly antagonist. "I couldna maybe hae made muckle o' abargain wi' yon lang callant," said David, when thus complimented on hisvalour; "but when ye deal wi' thae folk, it's tyne heart tyne a'."
