by Walter Scott
CHAPTER SIXTH.
Bind her quickly; or, by this steel, I'll tell, although I truss for company. Fletcher.
The imperfect light which shone into the window enabled Jeanie to seethat there was scarcely any chance of making her escape in thatdirection; for the aperture was high in the wall, and so narrow, that,could she have climbed up to it, she might well doubt whether it wouldhave permitted her to pass her body through it. An unsuccessful attemptto escape would be sure to draw down worse treatment than she nowreceived, and she, therefore, resolved to watch her opportunity carefullyere making such a perilous effort. For this purpose she applied herselfto the ruinous clay partition, which divided the hovel in which she nowwas from the rest of the waste barn. It was decayed and full of cracksand chinks, one of which she enlarged with her fingers, cautiously andwithout noise, until she could obtain a plain view of the old hag and thetaller ruffian, whom they called Levitt, seated together beside thedecayed fire of charcoal, and apparently engaged in close conference. Shewas at first terrified by the sight; for the features of the old womanhad a hideous cast of hardened and inveterate malice and ill-humour, andthose of the man, though naturally less unfavourable, were such ascorresponded well with licentious habits, and a lawless profession.
"But I remembered," said Jeanie, "my worthy fathers tales of a winterevening, how he was confined with the blessed martyr, Mr. James Renwick,who lifted up the fallen standard of the true reformed Kirk of Scotland,after the worthy and renowned Daniel Cameron, our last blessedbanner-man, had fallen among the swords of the wicked at Airsmoss, andhow the very hearts of the wicked malefactors and murderers, whom theywere confined withal, were melted like wax at the sound of theirdoctrine: and I bethought mysell, that the same help that was wi' them intheir strait, wad be wi' me in mine, an I could but watch the Lord's timeand opportunity for delivering my feet from their snare; and I minded theScripture of the blessed Psalmist, whilk he insisteth on, as weel in theforty-second as in the forty-third psalm--'Why art thou cast down, O mysoul, and why art thou disquieted within me? Hope in God, for I shall yetpraise Him, who is the health of my countenance, and my God.'"
Strengthened in a mind naturally calm, sedate, and firm, by the influenceof religious confidence, this poor captive was enabled to attend to, andcomprehend, a great part of an interesting conversation which passedbetwixt those into whose hands she had fallen, notwithstanding that theirmeaning was partly disguised by the occasional use of cant terms, ofwhich Jeanie knew not the import, by the low tone in which they spoke,and by their mode of supplying their broken phrases by shrugs and signs,as is usual amongst those of their disorderly profession.
The man opened the conversation by saying, "Now, dame, you see I am trueto my friend. I have not forgot that you _planked a chury,_* which helpedme through the bars of the Castle of York, and I came to do your workwithout asking questions; for one good turn deserves another.
* Concealed a knife.
But now that Madge, who is as loud as Tom of Lincoln, is somewhat still,and this same Tyburn Neddie is shaking his heels after the old nag, why,you must tell me what all this is about, and what's to be done--for d--nme if I touch the girl, or let her be touched, and she with Jim Rat'spass, too."
"Thou art an honest lad, Frank," answered the old woman, "but e'en toogood for thy trade; thy tender heart will get thee into trouble. I willsee ye gang up Holborn Hill backward, and a' on the word of some sillyloon that could never hae rapped to ye had ye drawn your knife across hisweasand."
"You may be balked there, old one," answered the robber; "I have knownmany a pretty lad cut short in his first summer upon the road, because hewas something hasty with his flats and sharps. Besides, a man would fainlive out his two years with a good conscience. So, tell me what all thisis about, and what's to be done for you that one can do decently?"
"Why, you must know, Frank--but first taste a snap of right Hollands."She drew a flask from her pocket, and filled the fellow a large bumper,which he pronounced to be the right thing.--"You must know, then,Frank--wunna ye mend your hand?" again offering the flask.
"No, no,--when a woman wants mischief from you, she always begins byfilling you drunk. D--n all Dutch courage. What I do I will dosoberly--I'll last the longer for that too."
"Well, then, you must know," resumed the old woman, without any furtherattempts at propitiation, "that this girl is going to London."
Here Jeanie could only distinguish the word sister.
The robber answered in a louder tone, "Fair enough that; and what thedevil is your business with it?"
"Business enough, I think. If the b--queers the noose, that silly cullwill marry her."
"And who cares if he does?" said the man.
"Who cares, ye donnard Neddie! I care; and I will strangle her with myown hands, rather than she should come to Madge's preferment."
"Madge's preferment! Does your old blind eyes see no farther than that?If he is as you say, dye think he'll ever marry a moon-calf like Madge?Ecod, that's a good one--Marry Madge Wildfire!--Ha! ha! ha!"
"Hark ye, ye crack-rope padder, born beggar, and bred thief!" replied thehag, "suppose he never marries the wench, is that a reason he shouldmarry another, and that other to hold my daughter's place, and shecrazed, and I a beggar, and all along of him? But I know that of him willhang him--I know that of him will hang him, if he had a thousand lives--Iknow that of him will hang--hang--hang him!"
She grinned as she repeated and dwelt upon the fatal monosyllable, withthe emphasis of a vindictive fiend.
"Then why don't you hang--hang--hang him?" said Frank, repeating herwords contemptuously. "There would be more sense in that, than inwreaking yourself here upon two wenches that have done you and yourdaughter no ill."
"No ill?" answered the old woman--"and he to marry this jail-bird, ifever she gets her foot loose!"
"But as there is no chance of his marrying a bird of your brood, Icannot, for my soul, see what you have to do with all this," againreplied the robber, shrugging his shoulders. "Where there is aught to begot, I'll go as far as my neighbours, but I hate mischief for mischiefssake."
"And would you go nae length for revenge?" said the hag--"forrevenge--the sweetest morsel to the mouth that over was cooked in hell!"
"The devil may keep it for his own eating, then," said the robber; "forhang me if I like the sauce he dresses it with."
"Revenge!" continued the old woman; "why, it is the best reward the devilgives us for our time here and hereafter. I have wrought hard for it--Ihave suffered for it--and I have sinned for it--and I will have it,--orthere is neither justice in heaven or in hell!"
Levitt had by this time lighted a pipe, and was listening with greatcomposure to the frantic and vindictive ravings of the old hag. He wastoo much, hardened by his course of life to be shocked with them--tooindifferent, and probably too stupid, to catch any part of theiranimation or energy. "But, mother," he said, after a pause, "still I say,that if revenge is your wish, you should take it on the young fellowhimself."
"I wish I could," she said, drawing in her breath, with the eagerness ofa thirsty person while mimicking the action of drinking--"I wish Icould--but no--I cannot--I cannot."
"And why not?--You would think little of peaching and hanging him forthis Scotch affair.--Rat me, one might have milled the Bank of England,and less noise about it."
"I have nursed him at this withered breast," answered the old woman,folding her hands on her bosom, as if pressing an infant to it, "and,though he has proved an adder to me--though he has been the destructionof me and mine--though he has made me company for the devil, if there bea devil, and food for hell, if there be such a place, yet I cannot takehis life.--No, I cannot," she continued, with an appearance of rageagainst herself; "I have thought of it--I have tried it--but, FrancisLevitt, I canna gang through wi't--Na, na--he was the first bairn I evernurst--ill I had been--and man can never ken what woman feels for thebairn she
has held first to her bosom!"
"To be sure," said Levitt, "we have no experience; but, mother, they sayyou ha'n't been so kind to other bairns, as you call them, that have comein your way.--Nay, d--n me, never lay your hand on the whittle, for I amcaptain and leader here, and I will have no rebellion."
The hag, whose first motion had been, upon hearing the question, to graspthe haft of a large knife, now unclosed her hand, stole it away from theweapon, and suffered it to fall by her side, while she proceeded with asort of smile--"Bairns! ye are joking, lad--wha wad touch bairns? Madge,puir thing, had a misfortune wi' ane--and the t'other"--Here her voicesunk so much, that Jeanie, though anxiously upon the watch, could notcatch a word she said, until she raised her tone at the conclusion of thesentence--"So Madge, in her daffin', threw it into the Nor'-lock, Itrow."
Madge, whose slumbers, like those of most who labour under mental malady,had been short, and were easily broken, now made herself heard from herplace of repose.
"Indeed, mother, that's a great lie, for I did nae sic thing."
"Hush, thou hellicat devil," said her mother--"By Heaven! the other wenchwill be waking too."
"That may be dangerous," said Frank; and he rose, and followed MegMurdockson across the floor.
"Rise," said the hag to her daughter, "or I sall drive the knife betweenthe planks into the Bedlam back of thee!"
Apparently she at the same time seconded her threat by pricking her withthe point of a knife, for Madge, with a faint scream, changed her place,and the door opened.
Jennie in the Outlaws Hut--80]
The old woman held a candle in one hand, and a knife in the other. Levittappeared behind her, whether with a view of preventing, or assisting herin any violence she might meditate, could not be well guessed. Jeanie'spresence of mind stood her friend in this dreadful crisis. She hadresolution enough to maintain the attitude and manner of one who sleepsprofoundly, and to regulate even her breathing, notwithstanding theagitation of instant terror, so as to correspond with her attitude.
The old woman passed the light across her eyes; and although Jeanie'sfears were so powerfully awakened by this movement, that she oftendeclared afterwards, that she thought she saw the figures of her destinedmurderers through her closed eyelids, she had still the resolution tomaintain the feint, on which her safety perhaps depended.
Levitt looked at her with fixed attention; he then turned the old womanout of the place, and followed her himself. Having regained the outwardapartment, and seated themselves, Jeanie heard the highwayman say, to herno small relief, "She's as fast as if she were in Bedfordshire.--Now, oldMeg, d--n me if I can understand a glim of this story of yours, or whatgood it will do you to hang the one wench and torment the other; but, ratme, I will be true to my friend, and serve ye the way ye like it. I seeit will be a bad job; but I do think I could get her down to Surfleet onthe Wash, and so on board Tom Moonshine's neat lugger, and keep her outof the way three or four weeks, if that will please ye--But d--n me ifany one shall harm her, unless they have a mind to choke on a brace ofblue plums.--It's a cruel, bad job, and I wish you and it, Meg, were bothat the devil."
"Never mind, hinny Levitt," said the old woman; "you are a ruffler, andwill have a' your ain gate--She shanna gang to heaven an hour sooner forme; I carena whether she live or die--it's her sister--ay, her sister!"
"Well, we'll say no more about it; I hear Tom coming in. We'll couch ahogshead,* and so better had you."
* Lay ourselves down to sleep.
They retired to repose accordingly, and all was silent in this asylum ofiniquity.
Jeanie lay for a long time awake. At break of day she heard the tworuffians leave the barn, after whispering to the old woman for some time.The sense that she was now guarded by persons of her own sex gave hersome confidence, and irresistible lassitude at length threw her intoslumber.
When the captive awakened, the sun was high in heaven, and the morningconsiderably advanced. Madge Wildfire was still in the hovel which hadserved them for the night, and immediately bid her good-morning, with herusual air of insane glee. "And dye ken, lass," said Madge, "there's queerthings chanced since ye hae been in the land of Nod. The constables haebeen here, woman, and they met wi' my minnie at the door, and theywhirl'd her awa to the Justice's about the man's wheat.--Dear! thaeEnglish churls think as muckle about a blade of wheat or grass, as aScotch laird does about his maukins and his muir-poots. Now, lass, if yelike, we'll play them a fine jink; we will awa out and take a walk--theywill mak unco wark when they miss us, but we can easily be back by dinnertime, or before dark night at ony rate, and it will be some frolic andfresh air.--But maybe ye wad like to take some breakfast, and then liedown again? I ken by mysell, there's whiles I can sit wi' my head in myhand the haill day, and havena a word to cast at a dog--and other whiles,that I canna sit still a moment. That's when the folk think me warst, butI am aye canny eneugh--ye needna be feared to walk wi' me."
Had Madge Wildfire been the most raging lunatic, instead of possessing adoubtful, uncertain, and twilight sort of rationality, varying, probably,from the influence of the most trivial causes, Jeanie would hardly haveobjected to leave a place of captivity, where she had so much toapprehend. She eagerly assured Madge that she had no occasion for furthersleep, no desire whatever for eating; and, hoping internally that she wasnot guilty of sin in doing so, she flattered her keeper's crazy humourfor walking in the woods.
"It's no a'thegither for that neither," said poor Madge; "but I amjudging ye will wun the better out o' thae folk's hands; no that they area'thegither bad folk neither, but they have queer ways wi' them, and Iwhiles dinna think it has ever been weel wi' my mother and me since wekept sic-like company."
With the haste, the joy, the fear, and the hope of a liberated captive,Jeanie snatched up her little bundle, followed Madge into the free air,and eagerly looked round her for a human habitation; but none was to beseen. The ground was partly cultivated, and partly left in its naturalstate, according as the fancy of the slovenly agriculturists had decided.In its natural state it was waste, in some places covered with dwarftrees and bushes, in others swamp, and elsewhere firm and dry downs orpasture grounds.
Jeanie's active mind next led her to conjecture which way the high-roadlay, whence she had been forced. If she regained that public road, sheimagined she must soon meet some person, or arrive at some house, whereshe might tell her story, and request protection. But, after a glancearound her, she saw with regret that she had no means whatever ofdirecting her course with any degree of certainty, and that she was stillin dependence upon her crazy companion. "Shall we not walk upon thehigh-road?" said she to Madge, in such a tone as a nurse uses to coax achild. "It's brawer walking on the road than amang thae wild bushes andwhins."
Madge, who was walking very fast, stopped at this question, and looked atJeanie with a sudden and scrutinising glance, that seemed to indicatecomplete acquaintance with her purpose. "Aha, lass!" she exclaimed, "areye gaun to guide us that gate?--Ye'll be for making your heels save yourhead, I am judging."
Jeanie hesitated for a moment, on hearing her companion thus expressherself, whether she had not better take the hint, and try to outstripand get rid of her. But she knew not in which direction to fly; she wasby no means sure that she would prove the swiftest, and perfectlyconscious that in the event of her being pursued and overtaken, she wouldbe inferior to the madwoman in strength. She therefore gave up thoughtsfor the present of attempting to escape in that manner, and, saying a fewwords to allay Madge's suspicions, she followed in anxious apprehensionthe wayward path by which her guide thought proper to lead her. Madge,infirm of purpose, and easily reconciled to the present scene, whateverit was, began soon to talk with her usual diffuseness of ideas.
"It's a dainty thing to be in the woods on a fine morning like this! Ilike it far better than the town, for there isna a wheen duddie bairns tobe crying after ane, as if ane were a warld's wonder, just becauseane maybe is a thought bonnier and better put-on than theirne
ighbours--though, Jeanie, ye suld never be proud o' braw claiths,or beauty neither--wae's me! they're but a snare--I ance thought bettero'them, and what came o't?"
"Are ye sure ye ken the way ye are taking us?" said Jeanie, who began toimagine that she was getting deeper into the woods and more remote fromthe high-road.
"Do I ken the road?--Wasna I mony a day living here, and what forshouldna I ken the road? I might hae forgotten, too, for it was afore myaccident; but there are some things ane can never forget, let them try itas muckle as they like."
By this time they had gained the deepest part of a patch of woodland. Thetrees were a little separated from each other, and at the foot of one ofthem, a beautiful poplar, was a hillock of moss, such as the poet ofGrasmere has described. So soon as she arrived at this spot, MadgeWildfire, joining her hands above her head with a loud scream thatresembled laughter, flung herself all at once upon the spot, and remainedlying there motionless.
Jeanie's first idea was to take the opportunity of flight; but her desireto escape yielded for a moment to apprehension for the poor insane being,who, she thought, might perish for want of relief. With an effort, whichin her circumstances, might be termed heroic, she stooped down, spoke ina soothing tone, and endeavoured to raise up the forlorn creature. Sheeffected this with difficulty, and as she placed her against the tree ina sitting posture, she observed with surprise, that her complexion,usually florid, was now deadly pale, and that her face was bathed intears. Notwithstanding her own extreme danger, Jeanie was affected by thesituation of her companion; and the rather, that, through the whole trainof her wavering and inconsistent state of mind and line of conduct, shediscerned a general colour of kindness towards herself, for which shefelt gratitude.
"Let me alane!--let me alane!" said the poor young woman, as her paroxysmof sorrow began to abate--"Let me alane--it does me good to weep. I cannashed tears but maybe ance or twice a year, and I aye come to wet thisturf with them, that the flowers may grow fair, and the grass may begreen."
"But what is the matter with you?" said Jeanie--"Why do you weep sobitterly?"
"There's matter enow," replied the lunatic,--"mair than ae puir mind canbear, I trow. Stay a bit, and I'll tell you a' about it; for I like ye,Jeanie Deans--a'body spoke weel about ye when we lived in the Pleasaunts--And I mind aye the drink o' milk ye gae me yon day, when I had been onArthur's Seat for four-and-twenty hours, looking for the ship thatsomebody was sailing in."
These words recalled to Jeanie's recollection, that, in fact, she hadbeen one morning much frightened by meeting a crazy young woman near herfather's house at an early hour, and that, as she appeared to beharmless, her apprehension had been changed into pity, and she hadrelieved the unhappy wanderer with some food, which she devoured with thehaste of a famished person. The incident, trifling in itself, was atpresent of great importance, if it should be found to have made afavourable and permanent impression in her favour on the mind of theobject of her charity.
"Yes," said Madge, "I'll tell ye a' about it, for ye are a decent man'sdaughter--Douce Davie Deans, ye ken--and maybe ye'll can teach me to findout the narrow way, and the straight path, for I have been burning bricksin Egypt, and walking through the weary wilderness of Sinai, for lang andmony a day. But whenever I think about mine errors, I am like to cover mylips for shame."--Here she looked up and smiled.--"It's a strange thingnow--I hae spoke mair gude words to you in ten minutes, than I wad speakto my mother in as mony years--it's no that I dinna think on them--andwhiles they are just at my tongue's end, but then comes the devil, andbrushes my lips with his black wing, and lays his broad black loof on mymouth--for a black loof it is, Jeanie--and sweeps away a' my gudethoughts, and dits up my gude words, and pits a wheen fule sangs and idlevanities in their place."
"Try, Madge," said Jeanie,--"try to settle your mind and make your breastclean, and you'll find your heart easier.--Just resist the devil, and hewill flee from you--and mind that, as my worthy father tells me, there isnae devil sae deceitfu' as our ain wandering thoughts."
"And that's true too, lass," said Madge, starting up; "and I'll gang agate where the devil daurna follow me; and it's a gate that you will likedearly to gang--but I'll keep a fast haud o' your arm, for fear Apollyonshould stride across the path, as he did in the Pilgrim's Progress."
Accordingly she got up, and, taking Jeanie by the arm, began to walkforward at a great pace; and soon, to her companion's no small joy, cameinto a marked path, with the meanders of which she seemed perfectlyacquainted. Jeanie endeavoured to bring her back to the confessional, butthe fancy was gone by. In fact, the mind of this deranged being resemblednothing so much as a quantity of dry leaves, which may for a few minutesremain still, but are instantly discomposed and put in motion by thefirst casual breath of air. She had now got John Bunyan's parable intoher head, to the exclusion of everything else, and on she went with greatvolubility.
"Did ye never read the Pilgrim's Progress? And you shall be the woman,Christiana, and I will be the maiden, Mercy--for ye ken Mercy was of thefairer countenance, and the more alluring than her companion--and if Ihad my little messan dog here, it would be Great-heart, their guide, yeken, for he was e'en as bauld, that he wad bark at ony thing twenty timeshis size; and that was e'en the death of him, for he bit CorporalMacAlpine's heels ae morning when they were hauling me to theguard-house, and Corporal MacAlpine killed the bit faithfu' thing wi' hisLochaber axe--deil pike the Highland banes o' him."
"O fie! Madge," said Jeanie, "ye should not speak such words."
"It's very true," said Madge, shaking her head; "but then I maunna thinko' my puir bit doggie, Snap, when I saw it lying dying in the gutter. Butit's just as weel, for it suffered baith cauld and hunger when it wasliving, and in the grave there is rest for a' things--rest for thedoggie, and my puir bairn, and me."
"Your bairn?" said Jeanie, conceiving that by speaking on such a topic,supposing it to be a real one, she could not fail to bring her companionto a more composed temper.
She was mistaken, however, for Madge coloured, and replied with someanger, "_My_ bairn? ay, to be sure, my bairn. Whatfor shouldna I hae abairn and lose a bairn too, as weel as your bonnie tittie, the Lily ofSt. Leonard's?"
The answer struck Jeanie with some alarm, and she was anxious to soothethe irritation she had unwittingly given occasion to. "I am very sorryfor your misfortune"
"Sorry! what wad ye be sorry for?" answered Madge. "The bairn was ablessing--that is, Jeanie, it wad hae been a blessing if it hadna beenfor my mother; but my mother's a queer woman.--Ye see, there was an auldcarle wi' a bit land, and a gude clat o' siller besides, just the verypicture of old Mr. Feeblemind or Mr. Ready-to-halt, that Great-heartdelivered from Slaygood the giant, when he was rifling him and about topick his bones, for Slaygood was of the nature of the flesh-eaters--andGreat-heart killed Giant Despair too--but I am doubting Giant Despair'scome alive again, for a' the story book--I find him busy at my heartwhiles."
"Weel, and so the auld carle," said Jeanie, for she was painfullyinterested in getting to the truth of Madge's history, which she couldnot but suspect was in some extraordinary way linked and entwined withthe fate of her sister. She was also desirous, if possible, to engage hercompanion in some narrative which might be carried on in a lower tone ofvoice, for she was in great apprehension lest the elevated notes ofMadge's conversation should direct her mother or the robbers in search ofthem.
"And so the auld carle," said Madge, repeating her words--"I wish ye hadseen him stoiting about, aff ae leg on to the other, wi' a kind o'dot-and-go-one sort o' motion, as if ilk ane o' his twa legs had belangedto sindry folk--but Gentle George could take him aff brawly--Eh, as Iused to laugh to see George gang hip-hop like him!--I dinna ken, I thinkI laughed heartier then than what I do now, though maybe no just saemuckle."
"And who was Gentle George?" said Jeanie, endeavouring to bring her backto her story.
"O, he was Geordie Robertson, ye ken, when he was in Edinburgh; butthat's no his right name neither--
His name is--But what is your businesswi' his name?" said she, as if upon sudden recollection, "What have ye todo asking for folk's names?--Have ye a mind I should scour my knifebetween your ribs, as my mother says?"
As this was spoken with a menacing tone and gesture, Jeanie hastened toprotest her total innocence of purpose in the accidental question whichshe had asked, and Madge Wildfire went on somewhat pacified.
"Never ask folk's names, Jeanie--it's no civil--I hae seen half-a-dozeno' folk in my mother's at ance, and ne'er ane a' them ca'd the ither byhis name; and Daddie Ratton says, it is the most uncivil thing may be,because the bailie bodies are aye asking fashions questions, when ye sawsic a man, or sic a man; and if ye dinna ken their names, ye ken therecan be nae mair speerd about it."
"In what strange school," thought Jeanie to herself, "has this poorcreature been bred up, where such remote precautions are taken againstthe pursuits of justice? What would my father or Reuben Butler think if Iwere to tell them there are sic folk in the world? And to abuse thesimplicity of this demented creature! Oh, that I were but safe at hameamang mine ain leal and true people! and I'll bless God, while I havebreath, that placed me amongst those who live in His fear, and under theshadow of His wing."
She was interrupted by the insane laugh of Madge Wildfire, as she saw amagpie hop across the path.
"See there!--that was the gate my auld joe used to cross the country, butno just sae lightly--he hadna wings to help his auld legs, I trow; but Ibehoved to have married him for a' that, Jeanie, or my mother wad haebeen the dead o' me. But then came in the story of my poor bairn, and mymother thought he wad be deaved wi' it's skirling, and she pat it away inbelow the bit bourock of turf yonder, just to be out o' the gate; and Ithink she buried my best wits with it, for I have never been just mysellsince. And only think, Jeanie, after my mother had been at a' thesepains, the auld doited body Johnny Drottle turned up his nose, and wadnahae aught to say to me! But it's little I care for him, for I have led amerry life ever since, and ne'er a braw gentleman looks at me but ye wadthink he was gaun to drop off his horse for mere love of me. I have ken'dsome o' them put their hand in their pocket, and gie me as muckle assixpence at a time, just for my weel-faured face."
This speech gave Jeanie a dark insight into Madge's history. She had beencourted by a wealthy suitor, whose addresses her mother had favoured,notwithstanding the objection of old age and deformity. She had beenseduced by some profligate, and, to conceal her shame and promote theadvantageous match she had planned, her mother had not hesitated todestroy the offspring of their intrigue. That the consequence should bethe total derangement of amind which was constitutionally unsettled bygiddiness and vanity, was extremely natural; and such was, in fact, thehistory of Madge Wildfire's insanity.
