by Walter Scott
CHAPTER TWENTY-SECOND.
But now the hand of fate is on the curtain, And gives the scene to light. Don Sebastian.
I felt stunned and chilled as they retired. Imagination, dwelling on anabsent object of affection, paints her not only in the fairest light, butin that in which we most desire to behold her. I had thought of Diana asshe was, when her parting tear dropped on my cheek--when her partingtoken, received from the wife of MacGregor, augured her wish to conveyinto exile and conventual seclusion the remembrance of my affection. Isaw her; and her cold passive manner, expressive of little exceptcomposed melancholy, disappointed, and, in some degree, almost offendedme.
In the egotism of my feelings, I accused her of indifference--ofinsensibility. I upbraided her father with pride--with cruelty--withfanaticism,--forgetting that both were sacrificing their interest, andDiana her inclination, to the discharge of what they regarded as theirduty.
Sir Frederick Vernon was a rigid Catholic, who thought the path ofsalvation too narrow to be trodden by an heretic; and Diana, to whom herfather's safety had been for many years the principal and moving springof thoughts, hopes, and actions, felt that she had discharged her duty inresigning to his will, not alone her property in the world, but thedearest affections of her heart. But it was not surprising that I couldnot, at such a moment, fully appreciate these honourable motives; yet myspleen sought no ignoble means of discharging itself.
"I am contemned, then," I said, when left to run over the tenor of SirFrederick's communications--"I am contemned, and thought unworthy even toexchange words with her. Be it so; they shall not at least prevent mefrom watching over her safety. Here will I remain as an outpost, and,while under my roof at least, no danger shall threaten her, if it be suchas the arm of one determined man can avert."
I summoned Syddall to the library. He came, but came attended by theeternal Andrew, who, dreaming of great things in consequence of my takingpossession of the Hall and the annexed estates, was resolved to losenothing for want of keeping himself in view; and, as often happens to menwho entertain selfish objects, overshot his mark, and rendered hisattentions tedious and inconvenient.
His unrequired presence prevented me from speaking freely to Syddall, andI dared not send him away for fear of increasing such suspicions as hemight entertain from his former abrupt dismissal from the library. "Ishall sleep here, sir," I said, giving them directions to wheel nearer tothe fire an old-fashioned day-bed, or settee. "I have much to do, andshall go late to bed."
Syddall, who seemed to understand my look, offered to procure me theaccommodation of a mattress and some bedding. I accepted his offer,dismissed my attendant, lighted a pair of candles, and desired that Imight not be disturbed till seven in the ensuing morning.
The domestics retired, leaving me to my painful and ill-arrangedreflections, until nature, worn out, should require some repose.
I endeavoured forcibly to abstract my mind from the singularcircumstances in which I found myself placed. Feelings which I hadgallantly combated while the exciting object was remote, were nowexasperated by my immediate neighbourhood to her whom I was so soon topart with for ever. Her name was written in every book which I attemptedto peruse; and her image forced itself on me in whatever train of thoughtI strove to engage myself. It was like the officious slave of Prior'sSolomon,--
Abra was ready ere I named her name, And when I called another, Abra came.
I alternately gave way to these thoughts, and struggled against them,sometimes yielding to a mood of melting tenderness of sorrow which wasscarce natural to me, sometimes arming myself with the hurt pride of onewho had experienced what he esteemed unmerited rejection. I paced thelibrary until I had chafed myself into a temporary fever. I then threwmyself on the couch, and endeavoured to dispose myself to sleep;--but itwas in vain that I used every effort to compose myself--that I laywithout movement of finger or of muscle, as still as if I had beenalready a corpse--that I endeavoured to divert or banish disquietingthoughts, by fixing my mind on some act of repetition or arithmeticalprocess. My blood throbbed, to my feverish apprehension, in pulsationswhich resembled the deep and regular strokes of a distant fulling-mill,and tingled in my veins like streams of liquid fire.
At length I arose, opened the window, and stood by it for some time inthe clear moonlight, receiving, in part at least, that refreshment anddissipation of ideas from the clear and calm scene, without which theyhad become beyond the command of my own volition. I resumed my place onthe couch--with a heart, Heaven knows, not lighter but firmer, and moreresolved for endurance. In a short time a slumber crept over my senses;still, however, though my senses slumbered, my soul was awake to thepainful feelings of my situation, and my dreams were of mental anguishand external objects of terror.
I remember a strange agony, under which I conceived myself and Diana inthe power of MacGregor's wife, and about to be precipitated from a rockinto the lake; the signal was to be the discharge of a cannon, fired bySir Frederick Vernon, who, in the dress of a Cardinal, officiated at theceremony. Nothing could be more lively than the impression which Ireceived of this imaginary scene. I could paint, even at this moment, themute and courageous submission expressed in Diana's features--the wildand distorted faces of the executioners, who crowded around us with"mopping and mowing;" grimaces ever changing, and each more hideous thanthat which preceded. I saw the rigid and inflexible fanaticism painted inthe face of the father--I saw him lift the fatal match--the deadly signalexploded--It was repeated again and again and again, in rival thunders,by the echoes of the surrounding cliffs, and I awoke from fancied horrorto real apprehension.
The sounds in my dream were not ideal. They reverberated on my wakingears, but it was two or three minutes ere I could collect myself so asdistinctly to understand that they proceeded from a violent knocking atthe gate. I leaped from my couch in great apprehension, took my swordunder my arm, and hastened to forbid the admission of any one. But myroute was necessarily circuitous, because the library looked not upon thequadrangle, but into the gardens. When I had reached a staircase, thewindows of which opened upon the entrance court, I heard the feeble andintimidated tones of Syddall expostulating with rough voices, whichdemanded admittance, by the warrant of Justice Standish, and in theKing's name, and threatened the old domestic with the heaviest penalconsequences if he refused instant obedience. Ere they had ceased, Iheard, to my unspeakable provocation, the voice of Andrew bidding Syddallstand aside, and let him open the door.
"If they come in King George's name, we have naething to fear--we haespent baith bluid and gowd for him--We dinna need to darn ourselves likesome folks, Mr. Syddall--we are neither Papists nor Jacobites, I trow."
It was in vain I accelerated my pace down stairs; I heard bolt after boltwithdrawn by the officious scoundrel, while all the time he was boastinghis own and his master's loyalty to King George; and I could easilycalculate that the party must enter before I could arrive at the door toreplace the bars. Devoting the back of Andrew Fairservice to the cudgelso soon as I should have time to pay him his deserts, I ran back to thelibrary, barricaded the door as I best could, and hastened to that bywhich Diana and her father entered, and begged for instant admittance.Diana herself undid the door. She was ready dressed, and betrayed neitherperturbation nor fear.
"Danger is so familiar to us," she said, "that we are always prepared tomeet it. My father is already up--he is in Rashleigh's apartment. We willescape into the garden, and thence by the postern-gate (I have the keyfrom Syddall in case of need.) into the wood--I know its dingles betterthan any one now alive. Keep them a few minutes in play. And, dear, dearFrank, once more fare-thee-well!"
She vanished like a meteor to join her father, and the intruders wererapping violently, and attempting to force the library door by the time Ihad returned into it.
"You robber dogs!" I exclaimed, wilfully mistaking the purpose of theirdisturbance,
"if you do not instantly quit the house I will fire myblunderbuss through the door."
"Fire a fule's bauble!" said Andrew Fairservice; "it's Mr. Clerk Jobson,with a legal warrant"--
"To search for, take, and apprehend," said the voice of that execrablepettifogger, "the bodies of certain persons in my warrant named, chargedof high treason under the 13th of King William, chapter third."
And the violence on the door was renewed. "I am rising, gentlemen," saidI, desirous to gain as much time as possible--"commit no violence--giveme leave to look at your warrant, and, if it is formal and legal, I shallnot oppose it."
"God save great George our King!" ejaculated Andrew. "I tauld ye that yewould find nae Jacobites here."
Spinning out the time as much as possible, I was at length compelled toopen the door, which they would otherwise have forced.
Mr. Jobson entered, with several assistants, among whom I discovered theyounger Wingfield, to whom, doubtless, he was obliged for hisinformation, and exhibited his warrant, directed not only againstFrederick Vernon, an attainted traitor, but also against Diana Vernon,spinster, and Francis Osbaldistone, gentleman, accused of misprision oftreason. It was a case in which resistance would have been madness; Itherefore, after capitulating for a few minutes' delay, surrenderedmyself a prisoner.
I had next the mortification to see Jobson go straight to the chamber ofMiss Vernon, and I learned that from thence, without hesitation ordifficulty, he went to the room where Sir Frederick had slept. "The harehas stolen away," said the brute, "but her form is warm--the greyhoundswill have her by the haunches yet."
A scream from the garden announced that he prophesied too truly. In thecourse of five minutes, Rashleigh entered the library with Sir FrederickVernon and his daughter as prisoners.
"The fox," he said, "knew his old earth, but he forgot it could bestopped by a careful huntsman.--I had not forgot the garden-gate, SirFrederick--or, if that title suits you better, most noble LordBeauchamp."
"Rashleigh," said Sir Frederick, "thou art a detestable villain!"
"I better deserved the name, Sir Knight, or my Lord, when, under thedirection of an able tutor, I sought to introduce civil war into thebosom of a peaceful country. But I have done my best," said he, lookingupwards, "to atone for my errors."
I could hold no longer. I had designed to watch their proceedings insilence, but I felt that I must speak or die. "If hell," I said, "has onecomplexion more hideous than another, it is where villany is masked byhypocrisy."
"Ha! my gentle cousin," said Rashleigh, holding a candle towards me, andsurveying me from head to foot; "right welcome to Osbaldistone Hall!--Ican forgive your spleen--It is hard to lose an estate and a mistress inone night; for we shall take possession of this poor manor-house in thename of the lawful heir, Sir Rashleigh Osbaldistone."
While Rashleigh braved it out in this manner, I could see that he put astrong force upon his feelings, both of anger and shame. But his state ofmind was more obvious when Diana Vernon addressed him. "Rashleigh," shesaid, "I pity you--for, deep as the evil is which you have laboured to dome, and the evil you have actually done, I cannot hate you so much as Iscorn and pity you. What you have now done may be the work of an hour,but will furnish you with reflection for your life--of what nature Ileave to your own conscience, which will not slumber for ever."
Rashleigh strode once or twice through the room, came up to theside-table, on which wine was still standing, and poured out a largeglass with a trembling hand; but when he saw that we observed his tremor,he suppressed it by a strong effort, and, looking at us with fixed anddaring composure, carried the bumper to his head without spilling a drop."It is my father's old burgundy," he said, looking to Jobson; "I am gladthere is some of it left.--You will get proper persons to take care ofold butler, and that foolish Scotch rascal. Meanwhile we will conveythese persons to a more proper place of custody. I have provided the oldfamily coach for your convenience," he said, "though I am not ignorantthat even the lady could brave the night-air on foot or on horseback,were the errand more to her mind."
Andrew wrung his hands.--"I only said that my master was surely speakingto a ghaist in the library--and the villain Lancie to betray an auldfriend, that sang aff the same Psalm-book wi' him every Sabbath fortwenty years!"
He was turned out of the house, together with Syddall, without beingallowed to conclude his lamentation. His expulsion, however, led to somesingular consequences. Resolving, according to his own story, to go downfor the night where Mother Simpson would give him a lodging for oldacquaintance' sake, he had just got clear of the avenue, and into the oldwood, as it was called, though it was now used as a pasture-ground ratherthan woodland, when he suddenly lighted on a drove of Scotch cattle,which were lying there to repose themselves after the day's journey. Atthis Andrew was in no way surprised, it being the well-known custom ofhis countrymen, who take care of those droves, to quarter themselvesafter night upon the best unenclosed grass-ground they can find, anddepart before day-break to escape paying for their night's lodgings. Buthe was both surprised and startled, when a Highlander, springing up,accused him of disturbing the cattle, and refused him to pass forwardtill he had spoken to his master. The mountaineer conducted Andrew into athicket, where he found three or four more of his countrymen. "And," saidAndrew, "I saw sune they were ower mony men for the drove; and from thequestions they put to me, I judged they had other tow on their rock."
They questioned him closely about all that had passed at OsbaldistoneHall, and seemed surprised and concerned at the report he made to them.
"And troth," said Andrew, "I tauld them a' I ken'd; for dirks and pistolswere what I could never refuse information to in a' my life."
They talked in whispers among themselves, and at length collected theircattle together, and drove them close up to the entrance of the avenue,which might be half a mile distant from the house. They proceeded to dragtogether some felled trees which lay in the vicinity, so as to make atemporary barricade across the road, about fifteen yards beyond theavenue. It was now near daybreak, and there was a pale eastern gleammingled with the fading moonlight, so that objects could be discoveredwith some distinctness. The lumbering sound of a coach drawn by fourhorses, and escorted by six men on horseback, was heard coming up theavenue. The Highlanders listened attentively. The carriage contained Mr.Jobson and his unfortunate prisoners. The escort consisted of Rashleigh,and of several horsemen, peace-officers and their assistants. So soon aswe had passed the gate at the head of the avenue, it was shut behind thecavalcade by a Highland-man, stationed there for that purpose. At thesame time the carriage was impeded in its farther progress by the cattle,amongst which we were involved, and by the barricade in front. Two of theescort dismounted to remove the felled trees, which they might think wereleft there by accident or carelessness. The others began with their whipsto drive the cattle from the road.
"Who dare abuse our cattle?" said a rough voice.--"Shoot him, Angus!"
Rashleigh instantly called out--"A rescue! a rescue!" and, firing apistol, wounded the man who spoke.
"_Claymore!_" cried the leader of the Highlanders, and a scuffleinstantly commenced. The officers of the law, surprised at so sudden anattack, and not usually possessing the most desperate bravery, made butan imperfect defence, considering the superiority of their numbers. Someattempted to ride back to the Hall, but on a pistol being fired frombehind the gate, they conceived themselves surrounded, and at lengthgalloped of in different directions. Rashleigh, meanwhile, haddismounted, and on foot had maintained a desperate and single-handedconflict with the leader of the band. The window of the carriage, on myside, permitted me to witness it. At length Rashleigh dropped.
"Will you ask forgiveness for the sake of God, King James, and auldfriendship?" said a voice which I knew right well.
"No, never!" said Rashleigh, firmly.
"Then, traitor, die in your treason!" retorted MacGregor, and plunged hissword in his prostrate antagonist.
In the next mome
nt he was at the carriage door--handed out Miss Vernon,assisted her father and me to alight, and dragging out the attorney, headforemost, threw him under the wheel.
"Mr. Osbaldistone," he said, in a whisper, "you have nothing tofear--I must look after those who have--Your friends will soon be insafety--Farewell, and forget not the MacGregor."
He whistled--his band gathered round him, and, hurrying Diana and herfather along with him, they were almost instantly lost in the glades ofthe forest. The coachman and postilion had abandoned their horses, andfled at the first discharge of firearms; but the animals, stopped by thebarricade, remained perfectly still; and well for Jobson that they didso, for the slightest motion would have dragged the wheel over his body.My first object was to relieve him, for such was the rascal's terror thathe never could have risen by his own exertions. I next commanded him toobserve, that I had neither taken part in the rescue, nor availed myselfof it to make my escape, and enjoined him to go down to the Hall, andcall some of his party, who had been left there, to assist the wounded.--But Jobson's fears had so mastered and controlled every faculty of hismind, that he was totally incapable of moving. I now resolved to gomyself, but in my way I stumbled over the body of a man, as I thought,dead or dying. It was, however, Andrew Fairservice, as well and whole asever he was in his life, who had only taken this recumbent posture toavoid the slashes, stabs, and pistol-balls, which for a moment or twowere flying in various directions. I was so glad to find him, that I didnot inquire how he came thither, but instantly commanded his assistance.
Rashleigh was our first object. He groaned when I approached him, as muchthrough spite as through pain, and shut his eyes, as if determined, likeIago, to speak no word more. We lifted him into the carriage, andperformed the same good office to another wounded man of his party, whohad been left on the field. I then with difficulty made Jobson understandthat he must enter the coach also, and support Sir Rashleigh upon theseat. He obeyed, but with an air as if he but half comprehended mymeaning. Andrew and I turned the horses' heads round, and opening thegate of the avenue, led them slowly back to Osbaldistone Hall.
Some fugitives had already reached the Hall by circuitous routes, andalarmed its garrison by the news that Sir Rashleigh, Clerk Jobson, andall their escort, save they who escaped to tell the tale, had been cut topieces at the head of the avenue by a whole regiment of wild Highlanders.When we reached the mansion, therefore, we heard such a buzz as ariseswhen bees are alarmed, and mustering in their hives. Mr. Jobson, however,who had now in some measure come to his senses, found voice enough tomake himself known. He was the more anxious to be released from thecarriage, as one of his companions (the peace-officer) had, to hisinexpressible terror, expired by his side with a hideous groan.
Sir Rashleigh Osbaldistone was still alive, but so dreadfully woundedthat the bottom of the coach was filled with his blood, and long tracesof it left from the entrance-door into the stone-hall, where he wasplaced in a chair, some attempting to stop the bleeding with cloths,while others called for a surgeon, and no one seemed willing to go tofetch one. "Torment me not," said the wounded man--"I know no assistancecan avail me--I am a dying man." He raised himself in his chair, thoughthe damps and chill of death were already on his brow, and spoke with afirmness which seemed beyond his strength. "Cousin Francis," he said,"draw near to me." I approached him as he requested.--"I wish you only toknow that the pangs of death do not alter I one iota of my feelingstowards you. I hate you!" he said, the expression of rage throwing ahideous glare into the eyes which were soon to be closed for ever--"Ihate you with a hatred as intense, now while I lie bleeding and dyingbefore you, as if my foot trode on your neck."
"I have given you no cause, sir," I replied,--"and for your own sake Icould wish your mind in a better temper."
"You _have_ given me cause," he rejoined. "In love, in ambition, in thepaths of interest, you have crossed and blighted me at every turn. I wasborn to be the honour of my father's house--I have been its disgrace--andall owing to you. My very patrimony has become yours--Take it," he said,"and may the curse of a dying man cleave to it!"
The Death of Rashleigh--338]
In a moment after he had uttered this frightful wish, he fell back in thechair; his eyes became glazed, his limbs stiffened, but the grin andglare of mortal hatred survived even the last gasp of life. I will dwellno longer on so painful a picture, nor say any more of the death ofRashleigh, than that it gave me access to my rights of inheritancewithout farther challenge, and that Jobson found himself compelled toallow, that the ridiculous charge of misprision of high treason was gotup on an affidavit which he made with the sole purpose of favouringRashleigh's views, and removing me from Osbaldistone Hall. The rascal'sname was struck off the list of attorneys, and he was reduced to povertyand contempt.
I returned to London when I had put my affairs in order at OsbaldistoneHall, and felt happy to escape from a place which suggested so manypainful recollections. My anxiety was now acute to learn the fate ofDiana and her father. A French gentleman who came to London on commercialbusiness, was intrusted with a letter to me from Miss Vernon, which putmy mind at rest respecting their safety.
It gave me to understand that the opportune appearance of MacGregor andhis party was not fortuitous. The Scottish nobles and gentry engaged inthe insurrection, as well as those of England, were particularly anxiousto further the escape of Sir Frederick Vernon, who, as an old and trustedagent of the house of Stuart, was possessed of matter enough to haveruined half Scotland. Rob Roy, of whose sagacity and courage they hadknown so many proofs, was the person whom they pitched upon to assist hisescape, and the place of meeting was fixed at Osbaldistone Hall. You havealready heard how nearly the plan had been disconcerted by the unhappyRashleigh. It succeeded, however, perfectly; for when once Sir Frederickand his daughter were again at large, they found horses prepared forthem, and, by MacGregor's knowledge of the country--for every part ofScotland, and of the north of England, was familiar to him--wereconducted to the western sea-coast, and safely embarked for France. Thesame gentleman told me that Sir Frederick was not expected to survive formany months a lingering disease, the consequence of late hardships andprivations. His daughter was placed in a convent, and although it was herfather's wish she should take the veil, he was understood to refer thematter entirely to her own inclinations.
When these news reached me, I frankly told the state of my affections tomy father, who was not a little startled at the idea of my marrying aRoman Catholic. But he was very desirous to see me "settled in life," ashe called it; and he was sensible that, in joining him with heart andhand in his commercial labours, I had sacrificed my own inclinations.After a brief hesitation, and several questions asked and answered to hissatisfaction, he broke out with--"I little thought a son of mine shouldhave been Lord of Osbaldistone Manor, and far less that he should go to aFrench convent for a spouse. But so dutiful a daughter cannot but prove agood wife. You have worked at the desk to please me, Frank; it is butfair you should wive to please yourself."
How I sped in my wooing, Will Tresham, I need not tell you. You know,too, how long and happily I lived with Diana. You know how I lamentedher; but you do not--cannot know, how much she deserved her husband'ssorrow.
I have no more of romantic adventure to tell, nor, indeed, anything tocommunicate farther, since the latter incidents of my life are so wellknown to one who has shared, with the most friendly sympathy, the joys,as well as the sorrows, by which its scenes have been chequered. I oftenvisited Scotland, but never again saw the bold Highlander who had such aninfluence on the early events of my life. I learned, however, from timeto time, that he continued to maintain his ground among the mountains ofLoch Lomond, in despite of his powerful enemies, and that he evenobtained, to a certain degree, the connivance of Government to hisself-elected office of protector of the Lennox, in virtue of which helevied black-mail with as much regularity as the proprietors did theirordinary rents. It seemed impossible that his life should have concludedwithout a v
iolent end. Nevertheless he died in old age and by a peacefuldeath, some time about the year 1733, and is still remembered in hiscountry as the Robin Hood of Scotland--the dread of the wealthy, but thefriend of the poor--and possessed of many qualities, both of head andheart, which would have graced a less equivocal profession than that towhich his fate condemned him.
Old Andrew Fairservice used to say, that "There were many things ower badfor blessing, and ower gude for banning, like Rob Roy."
_Here the original manuscript ends somewhat abruptly. I have reason tothink that what followed related to private a affairs._
