by Walter Scott
CHAPTER XV
My gold is gone, my money is spent, My land now take it unto thee. Give me thy gold, good John o' the Scales, And thine for aye my land shall be.
Then John he did him to record draw. And John he caste him a gods-pennie; But for every pounde that John agreed, The land, I wis, was well worth three.
HEIR OF LINNE.
The Galwegian John o' the Scales was a more clever fellow than hisprototype. He contrived to make himself heir of Linne without thedisagreeable ceremony of 'telling down the good red gold.' Miss Bertramno sooner heard this painful, and of late unexpected, intelligence thanshe proceeded in the preparations she had already made for leaving themansion-house immediately. Mr. Mac-Morlan assisted her in thesearrangements, and pressed upon her so kindly the hospitality andprotection of his roof, until she should receive an answer from hercousin, or be enabled to adopt some settled plan of life, that she feltthere would be unkindness in refusing an invitation urged with suchearnestness. Mrs. Mac-Morlan was a ladylike person, and well qualifiedby birth and manners to receive the visit, and to make her houseagreeable to Miss Bertram. A home, therefore, and an hospitablereception were secured to her, and she went on with better heart to paythe wages and receive the adieus of the few domestics of her father'sfamily.
Where there are estimable qualities on either side, this task is alwaysaffecting; the present circumstances rendered it doubly so. Allreceived their due, and even a trifle more, and with thanks and goodwishes, to which some added tears, took farewell of their youngmistress. There remained in the parlour only Mr. Mac-Morlan, who cameto attend his guest to his house, Dominie Sampson, and Miss Bertram.'And now,' said the poor girl, 'I must bid farewell to one of my oldestand kindest friends. God bless you, Mr. Sampson, and requite to you allthe kindness of your instructions to your poor pupil, and yourfriendship to him that is gone. I hope I shall often hear from you.'She slid into his hand a paper containing some pieces of gold, androse, as if to leave the room.
Dominie Sampson also rose; but it was to stand aghast with utterastonishment. The idea of parting from Miss Lucy, go where she might,had never once occurred to the simplicity of his understanding. He laidthe money on the table. 'It is certainly inadequate,' said Mac-Morlan,mistaking his meaning, 'but the circumstances--'
Mr. Sampson waved his hand impatiently.--'It is not the lucre, it isnot the lucre; but that I, that have ate of her father's loaf, anddrank of his cup, for twenty years and more--to think that I am goingto leave her, and to leave her in distress and dolour! No, Miss Lucy,you need never think it! You would not consent to put forth yourfather's poor dog, and would you use me waur than a messan? No, MissLucy Bertram, while I live I will not separate from you. I'll be noburden; I have thought how to prevent that. But, as Ruth said untoNaomi, "Entreat me not to leave thee, nor to depart from thee; forwhither thou goest I will go, and where thou dwellest I will dwell; thypeople shall be my people, and thy God shall be my God. Where thoudiest will I die, and there will I be buried. The Lord do so to me, andmore also, if aught but death do part thee and me."'
During this speech, the longest ever Dominie Sampson was known toutter, the affectionate creature's eyes streamed with tears, andneither Lucy nor Mac-Morlan could refrain from sympathising with thisunexpected burst of feeling and attachment. 'Mr. Sampson,' saidMac-Morlan, after having had recourse to his snuff-box and handkerchiefalternately, 'my house is large enough, and if you will accept of a bedthere while Miss Bertram honours us with her residence, I shall thinkmyself very happy, and my roof much favoured, by receiving a man ofyour worth and fidelity.' And then, with a delicacy which was meant toremove any objection on Miss Bertram's part to bringing with her thisunexpected satellite, he added, 'My business requires my frequentlyhaving occasion for a better accountant than any of my present clerks,and I should be glad to have recourse to your assistance in that waynow and then.'
'Of a surety, of a surety,' said Sampson eagerly; 'I understandbook-keeping by double entry and the Italian method.'
Our postilion had thrust himself into the room to announce his chaiseand horses; he tarried, unobserved, during this extraordinary scene,and assured Mrs. Mac-Candlish it was the most moving thing he ever saw;'the death of the grey mare, puir hizzie, was naething till't.' Thistrifling circumstance afterwards had consequences of greater moment tothe Dominie.
The visitors were hospitably welcomed by Mrs. Mac-Morlan, to whom, aswell as to others, her husband intimated that he had engaged DominieSampson's assistance to disentangle some perplexed accounts, duringwhich occupation he would, for convenience sake, reside with thefamily. Mr. Mac-Morlan's knowledge of the world induced him to put thiscolour upon the matter, aware that, however honourable the fidelity ofthe Dominie's attachment might be both to his own heart and to thefamily of Ellangowan, his exterior ill qualified him to be a'squire ofdames,' and rendered him, upon the whole, rather a ridiculous appendageto a beautiful young woman of seventeen.
Dominie Sampson achieved with great zeal such tasks as Mr. Mac-Morlanchose to entrust him with; but it was speedily observed that at acertain hour after breakfast he regularly disappeared, and returnedagain about dinner-time. The evening he occupied in the labour of theoffice. On Saturday he appeared before Mac-Morlan with a look of greattriumph, and laid on the table two pieces of gold. 'What is this for,Dominie?' said Mac-Morlan.
'First to indemnify you of your charges in my behalf, worthy sir; andthe balance for the use of Miss Lucy Bertram.'
'But, Mr. Sampson, your labour in the office much more than recompensesme; I am your debtor, my good friend.'
'Then be it all,' said the Dominie, waving his hand, 'for Miss LucyBertram's behoof.'
'Well, but, Dominie, this money-'
'It is honestly come by, Mr. Mac-Morlan; it is the bountiful reward ofa young gentleman to whom I am teaching the tongues; reading with himthree hours daily.'
A few more questions extracted from the Dominie that this liberal pupilwas young Hazlewood, and that he met his preceptor daily at the houseof Mrs. Mac-Candlish, whose proclamation of Sampson's disinterestedattachment to the young lady had procured him this indefatigable andbounteous scholar.
Mac-Morlan was much struck with what he heard. Dominie Sampson wasdoubtless a very good scholar, and an excellent man, and the classicswere unquestionably very well worth reading; yet that a young man oftwenty should ride seven miles and back again each day in the week, tohold this sort of TETE-A-TETE of three hours, was a zeal for literatureto which he was not prepared to give entire credit. Little art wasnecessary to sift the Dominie, for the honest man's head never admittedany but the most direct and simple ideas. 'Does Miss Bertram know howyour time is engaged, my good friend?'
'Surely not as yet. Mr. Charles recommended it should be concealed fromher, lest she should scruple to accept of the small assistance arisingfrom it; but,' he added, 'it would not be possible to conceal it long,since Mr. Charles proposed taking his lessons occasionally in thishouse.'
'O, he does!' said Mac-Morlan.' Yes, yes, I can understand that better.And pray, Mr. Sampson, are these three hours entirely spentinconstruing and translating?'
'Doubtless, no; we have also colloquial intercourse to sweeten study:neque semper arcum tendit apollo.'
The querist proceeded to elicit from this Galloway Phoebus what theirdiscourse chiefly turned upon.
'Upon our past meetings at Ellangowan; and, truly, I think very oftenwe discourse concerning Miss Lucy, for Mr. Charles Hazlewood in thatparticular resembleth me, Mr. Mac-Morlan. When I begin to speak of herI never know when to stop; and, as I say (jocularly), she cheats us outof half our lessons.'
'O ho!' thought Mac-Morlan, 'sits the wind in that quarter? I've heardsomething like this before.'
He then began to consider what conduct was safest for his protegee, andeven for himself; for the senior Mr. Hazlewood was powerful, wealthy,ambitious, and vindictive, and looked for both fortune and title in anyconnexion which his son m
ight form. At length, having the highestopinion of his guest's good sense and penetration, he determined totake an opportunity, when they should happen to be alone, tocommunicate the matter to her as a simple piece of intelligence. He didso in as natural a manner as he could. 'I wish you joy of your friendMr. Sampson's good fortune, Miss Bertram; he has got a pupil who payshim two guineas for twelve lessons of Greek and Latin.'
'Indeed! I am equally happy and surprised. Who can be so liberal? isColonel Mannering returned?'
'No, no, not Colonel Mannering; but what do you think of youracquaintance, Mr. Charles Hazlewood? He talks of taking his lessonshere; I wish we may have accommodation for him.'
Lucy blushed deeply. 'For Heaven's sake, no, Mr. Mac-Morlan, do not letthat be; Charles Hazlewood has had enough of mischief about thatalready.'
'About the classics, my dear young lady?' wilfully seeming tomisunderstand her; 'most young gentlemen have so at one period oranother, sure enough; but his present studies are voluntary.'
Miss Bertram let the conversation drop, and her host made no effort torenew it, as she seemed to pause upon the intelligence in order to formsome internal resolution.
The next day Miss Bertram took an opportunity of conversing with Mr.Sampson. Expressing in the kindest manner her grateful thanks for hisdisinterested attachment, and her joy that he had got such a provision,she hinted to him that his present mode of superintending CharlesHazlewood's studies must be so inconvenient to his pupil that, whilethat engagement lasted, he had better consent to a temporaryseparation, and reside either with his scholar or as near him as mightbe. Sampson refused, as indeed she had expected, to listen a moment tothis proposition; he would not quit her to be made preceptor to thePrince of Wales. 'But I see,' he added, 'you are too proud to share mypittance; and peradventure I grow wearisome unto you.'
'No indeed; you were my father's ancient, almost his only, friend. I amnot proud; God knows, I have no reason to be so. You shall do what youjudge best in other matters; but oblige me by telling Mr. CharlesHazlewood that you had some conversation with me concerning hisstudies, and that I was of opinion that his carrying them on in thishouse was altogether impracticable, and not to be thought of.'
Dominie Sampson left her presence altogether crest-fallen, and, as heshut the door, could not help muttering the 'varium et mutabile' ofVirgil. Next day he appeared with a very rueful visage, and tenderedMiss Bertram a letter. 'Mr. Hazlewood,' he said, 'was to discontinuehis lessons, though he had generously made up the pecuniary loss. Buthow will he make up the loss to himself of the knowledge he might haveacquired under my instruction? Even in that one article of writing,--hewas an hour before he could write that brief note, and destroyed manyscrolls, four quills, and some good white paper. I would have taughthim in three weeks a firm, current, clear, and legible hand; he shouldhave been a calligrapher,--but God's will be done.'
The letter contained but a few lines, deeply regretting and murmuringagainst Miss Bertram's cruelty, who not only refused to see him, but topermit him in the most indirect manner to hear of her health andcontribute to her service. But it concluded with assurances that herseverity was vain, and that nothing could shake the attachment ofCharles Hazlewood.
Under the active patronage of Mrs. Mac-Candlish, Sampson picked up someother scholars--very different indeed from Charles Hazlewood in rank,and whose lessons were proportionally unproductive. Still, however, hegained something, and it was the glory of his heart to carry it to Mr.Mac-Morlan weekly, a slight peculium only subtracted to supply hissnuff-box and tobacco-pouch.
And here we must leave Kippletringan to look after our hero, lest ourreaders should fear they are to lose sight of him for another quarterof a century.
