by Walter Scott
CHAPTER XIII
They told me, by the sentence of the law, They had commission to seize all thy fortune. Here stood a ruffian with a horrid face, Lording it o'er a pile of massy plate, Tumbled into a heap for public sale; There was another, making villainous jests At thy undoing; he had ta'en possession Of all thy ancient most domestic ornaments.
OTWAY.
Early next morning Mannering mounted his horse and, accompanied by hisservant, took the road to Ellangowan. He had no need to inquire theway. A sale in the country is a place of public resort and amusement,and people of various descriptions streamed to it from all quarters.
After a pleasant ride of about an hour, the old towers of the ruinpresented themselves in the landscape. The thoughts, with whatdifferent feelings he had lost sight of them so many years before,thronged upon the mind of the traveller. The landscape was the same;but how changed the feelings, hopes, and views of the spectator! Thenlife and love were new, and all the prospect was gilded by their rays.And now, disappointed in affection, sated with fame and what the worldcalls success, his mind, goaded by bitter and repentant recollection,his best hope was to find a retirement in which he might nurse themelancholy that was to accompany him to his grave. 'Yet why should anindividual mourn over the instability of his hopes and the vanity ofhis prospects? The ancient chiefs who erected these enormous andmassive towers to be the fortress of their race and the seat of theirpower,--could they have dreamed the day was to come when the last oftheir descendants should be expelled, a ruined wanderer, from hispossessions! But Nature's bounties are unaltered. The sun will shine asfair on these ruins, whether the property of a stranger or of a sordidand obscure trickster of the abused law, as when the banners of thefounder first waved upon their battlements.'
These reflections brought Mannering to the door of the house, which wasthat day open to all. He entered among others, who traversed theapartments, some to select articles for purchase, others to gratifytheir curiosity. There is something melancholy in such a scene, evenunder the most favourable circumstances. The confused state of thefurniture, displaced for the convenience of being easily viewed andcarried off by the purchasers, is disagreeable to the eye. Thosearticles which, properly and decently arranged, look creditable andhandsome, have then a paltry and wretched appearance; and theapartments, stripped of all that render them commodious andcomfortable, have an aspect of ruin and dilapidation. It is disgustingalso to see the scenes of domestic society and seclusion thrown open tothe gaze of the curious and the vulgar, to hear their coarsespeculations and brutal jests upon the fashions and furniture to whichthey are unaccustomed,--a frolicsome humour much cherished by thewhisky which in Scotland is always put in circulation on suchoccasions. All these are ordinary effects of such a scene as Ellangowannow presented; but the moral feeling, that in this case they indicatedthe total ruin of an ancient and honourable family, gave them trebleweight and poignancy.
It was some time before Colonel Mannering could find any one disposedto answer his reiterated questions concerning Ellangowan himself. Atlength an old maidservant, who held her apron to her eyes as she spoke,told him 'the Laird was something better, and they hoped he would beable to leave the house that day. Miss Lucy expected the chaise everymoment, and, as the day was fine for the time o'year, they had carriedhim in his easychair up to the green before the auld castle, to be outof the way of this unco spectacle.' Thither Colonel Mannering went inquest of him, and soon came in sight of the little group, whichconsisted of four persons. The ascent was steep, so that he had time toreconnoitre them as he advanced, and to consider in what mode he shouldmake his address.
Mr. Bertram, paralytic and almost incapable of moving, occupied hiseasy-chair, attired in his nightcap and a loose camlet coat, his feetwrapped in blankets. Behind him, with his hands crossed on the caneupon which he rested, stood Dominie Sampson, whom Mannering recognisedat once. Time had made no change upon him, unless that his black coatseemed more brown, and his gaunt cheeks more lank, than when Manneringlast saw him. On one side of the old man was a sylph-like form--a youngwoman of about seventeen, whom the Colonel accounted to be hisdaughter. She was looking from time to time anxiously towards theavenue, as if expecting the post-chaise; and between whiles busiedherself in adjusting the blankets so as to protect her father from thecold, and in answering inquiries, which he seemed to make with acaptious and querulous manner. She did not trust herself to looktowards the Place, although the hum of the assembled crowd must havedrawn her attention in that direction. The fourth person of the groupwas a handsome and genteel young man, who seemed to share MissBertram's anxiety, and her solicitude to soothe and accommodate herparent.
This young man was the first who observed Colonel Mannering, andimmediately stepped forward to meet him, as if politely to prevent hisdrawing nearer to the distressed group. Mannering instantly paused andexplained. 'He was,' he said, 'a stranger to whom Mr. Bertram hadformerly shown kindness and hospitality; he would not have intrudedhimself upon him at a period of distress, did it not seem to be in somedegree a moment also of desertion; he wished merely to offer suchservices as might be in his power to Mr. Bertram and the young lady.'
He then paused at a little distance from the chair. His oldacquaintance gazed at him with lack-lustre eye, that intimated notokens of recognition; the Dominie seemed too deeply sunk in distresseven to observe his presence. The young man spoke aside with MissBertram, who advanced timidly, and thanked Colonel Mannering for hisgoodness; 'but,' she said, the tears gushing fast into her eyes, 'herfather, she feared, was not so much himself as to be able to rememberhim.'
She then retreated towards the chair, accompanied by the Colonel.'Father,' she said, 'this is Mr. Mannering, an old friend, come toinquire after you.'
'He's very heartily welcome,' said the old man, raising himself in hischair, and attempting a gesture of courtesy, while a gleam ofhospitable satisfaction seemed to pass over his faded features; 'but,Lucy, my dear, let us go down to the house; you should not keep thegentleman here in the cold. Dominie, take the key of the wine-cooler.Mr. a--a--the gentleman will surely take something after his ride.'
Mannering was unspeakably affected by the contrast which hisrecollection made between this reception and that with which he hadbeen greeted by the same individual when they last met. He could notrestrain his tears, and his evident emotion at once attained him theconfidence of the friendless young lady.
'Alas!' she said, 'this is distressing even to a stranger; but it maybe better for my poor father to be in this way than if he knew andcould feel all.'
A servant in livery now came up the path, and spoke in an undertone tothe young gentleman--'Mr. Charles, my lady's wanting you yonder sadly,to bid for her for the black ebony cabinet; and Lady Jean Devorgoil iswi' her an' a'; ye maun come away directly.'
'Tell them you could not find me, Tom, or, stay,--say I am looking atthe horses.'
'No, no, no,' said Lucy Bertram, earnestly; 'if you would not add tothe misery of this miserable moment, go to the company directly. Thisgentleman, I am sure, will see us to the carriage.'
'Unquestionably, madam,' said Mannering, 'your young friend may rely onmy attention.'
'Farewell, then,' said young Hazlewood, and whispered a word in herear; then ran down the steep hastily, as if not trusting his resolutionat a slower pace.
'Where's Charles Hazlewood running?' said the invalid, who apparentlywas accustomed to his presence and attentions; 'where's CharlesHazlewood running? what takes him away now?'
'He'll return in a little while,' said Lucy, gently.
The sound of voices was now heard from the ruins. The reader mayremember there was a communication between the castle and the beach, upwhich the speakers had ascended.
'Yes, there's a plenty of shells and seaware for manure, as youobserve; and if one inclined to build a new house, which might indeedbe necessary, there's a great deal of good hewn stone about this olddungeon, for the devil here--'
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'Good God!' said Miss Bertram hastily to Sampson, ''t is that wretchGlossin's voice! If my father sees him, it will kill him outright!'
Sampson wheeled perpendicularly round, and moved with long strides toconfront the attorney as he issued from beneath the portal arch of theruin. 'Avoid ye!' he said, 'avoid ye! wouldst thou kill and takepossession?'
'Come, come, Master Dominie Sampson,' answered Glossin insolently, 'ifye cannot preach in the pulpit, we'll have no preaching here. We go bythe law, my good friend; we leave the gospel to you.'
The very mention of this man's name had been of late a subject of themost violent irritation to the unfortunate patient. The sound of hisvoice now produced an instantaneous effect. Mr. Bertram started upwithout assistance and turned round towards him; the ghastliness of hisfeatures forming a strange contrast with the violence of hisexclamations.--'Out of my sight, ye viper! ye frozen viper, that Iwarmed, till ye stung me! Art thou not afraid that the walls of myfather's dwelling should fall and crush thee limb and bone? Are ye notafraid the very lintels of the door of Ellangowan Castle should breakopen and swallow you up? Were ye not friendless, houseless, penniless,when I took ye by the hand; and are ye not expelling me--me and thatinnocent girl--friendless, houseless, and penniless, from the housethat has sheltered us and ours for a thousand years?'
Had Glossin been alone, he would probably have slunk off; but theconsciousness that a stranger was present, besides the person who camewith him (a sort of land-surveyor), determined him to resort toimpudence. The task, however, was almost too hard even for hiseffrontery--'Sir--sir--Mr. Bertram, sir, you should not blame me, butyour own imprudence, sir--'
The indignation of Mannering was mounting very high. 'Sir,' he said toGlossin, 'without entering into the merits of this controversy, I mustinform you that you have chosen a very improper place, time, andpresence for it. And you will oblige me by withdrawing without morewords.'
Glossin, being a tall, strong, muscular man, was not unwilling ratherto turn upon the stranger, whom he hoped to bully, than maintain hiswretched cause against his injured patron.--'I do not know who you are,sir,' he said, 'and I shall permit no man to use such d--d freedom withme.'
Mannering was naturally hot-tempered: his eyes flashed a dark light; hecompressed his nether lip so closely that the blood sprung, andapproaching Glossin--'Look you, sir,' he said,' that you do not know meis of little consequence. _I_ KNOW YOU; and if you do not instantlydescend that bank, without uttering a single syllable, by the Heaventhat is above us you shall make but one step from the top to thebottom!'
The commanding tone of rightful anger silenced at once the ferocity ofthe bully. He hesitated, turned on his heel, and, muttering somethingbetween his teeth about unwillingness to alarm the lady, relieved themof his hateful company.
Mrs. Mac-Candlish's postilion, who had come up in time to hear whatpassed, said aloud, 'If he had stuck by the way, I would have lent hima heezie, the dirty scoundrel, as willingly as ever I pitched a boddle.'
He then stepped forward to announce that his horses were in readinessfor the invalid and his daughter. But they were no longer necessary.The debilitated frame of Mr. Bertram was exhausted by this last effortof indignant anger, and when he sunk again upon his chair, he expiredalmost without a struggle or groan. So little alteration did theextinction of the vital spark make upon his external appearance thatthe screams of his daughter, when she saw his eye fix and felt hispulse stop, first announced his death to the spectators.
