by Walter Scott
CHAPTER III.
There came a knight from the field of slain, His steed was drench'd in blood and rain. Finlay.
We must now return to the fortress of Tillietudlem and its inhabitants.The morning, being the first after the battle of Loudon-hill, had dawnedupon its battlements, and the defenders had already resumed the laboursby which they proposed to render the place tenable, when the watchman,who was placed in a high turret, called the Warder's Tower, gave thesignal that a horseman was approaching. As he came nearer, his dressindicated an officer of the Life-Guards; and the slowness of his horse'space, as well as the manner in which the rider stooped on the saddle-bow,plainly showed that he was sick or wounded. The wicket was instantlyopened to receive him, and Lord Evandale rode into the court-yard, soreduced by loss of blood, that he was unable to dismount withoutassistance. As he entered the hall, leaning upon a servant, the ladiesshrieked with surprise and terror; for, pale as death, stained withblood, his regimentals soiled and torn, and his hair matted anddisordered, he resembled rather a spectre than a human being. But theirnext exclamation was that of joy at his escape.
"Thank God!" exclaimed Lady Margaret, "that you are here, and haveescaped the hands of the bloodthirsty murderers who have cut off so manyof the king's loyal servants!"
"Thank God!" added Edith, "that you are here and in safety! We havedreaded the worst. But you are wounded, and I fear we have little themeans of assisting you."
"My wounds are only sword-cuts," answered the young nobleman, as hereposed himself on a seat; "the pain is not worth mentioning, and Ishould not even feel exhausted but for the loss of blood. But it was notmy purpose to bring my weakness to add to your danger and distress, butto relieve them, if possible. What can I do for you?--Permit me," headded, addressing Lady Margaret--"permit me to think and act as your son,my dear madam--as your brother, Edith!"
He pronounced the last part of the sentence with some emphasis, as if hefeared that the apprehension of his pretensions as a suitor might renderhis proffered services unacceptable to Miss Bellenden. She was notinsensible to his delicacy, but there was no time for exchange ofsentiments.
"We are preparing for our defence," said the old lady with great dignity;"my brother has taken charge of our garrison, and, by the grace of God,we will give the rebels such a reception as they deserve."
"How gladly," said Evandale, "would I share in the defence of the Castle!But in my present state, I should be but a burden to you, nay, somethingworse; for, the knowledge that an officer of the Life-Guards was in theCastle would be sufficient to make these rogues more desperately earnestto possess themselves of it. If they find it defended only by the family,they may possibly march on to Glasgow rather than hazard an assault."
"And can you think so meanly of us, my lord," said Edith, with thegenerous burst of feeling which woman so often evinces, and which becomesher so well, her voice faltering through eagerness, and her browcolouring with the noble warmth which dictated her language--"Can youthink so meanly of your friends, as that they would permit suchconsiderations to interfere with their sheltering and protecting you at amoment when you are unable to defend yourself, and when the whole countryis filled with the enemy? Is there a cottage in Scotland whose ownerswould permit a valued friend to leave it in such circumstances? And canyou think we will allow you to go from a castle which we hold to bestrong enough for our own defence?"
"Lord Evandale need never think of it," said Lady Margaret. "I will dresshis wounds myself; it is all an old wife is fit for in war time; but toquit the Castle of Tillietudlem when the sword of the enemy is drawn toslay him,--the meanest trooper that ever wore the king's coat on his backshould not do so, much less my young Lord Evandale.--Ours is not a housethat ought to brook such dishonour. The tower of Tillietudlem has beentoo much distinguished by the visit of his most sacred"--
Here she was interrupted by the entrance of the Major.
"We have taken a prisoner, my dear uncle," said Edith--"a woundedprisoner, and he wants to escape from us. You must help us to keep him byforce."
"Lord Evandale!" exclaimed the veteran. "I am as much pleased as when Igot my first commission. Claverhouse reported you were killed, or missingat least."
"I should have been slain, but for a friend of yours," said LordEvandale, speaking with some emotion, and bending his eyes on the ground,as if he wished to avoid seeing the impression that what he was about tosay would make upon Miss Bellenden. "I was unhorsed and defenceless, andthe sword raised to dispatch me, when young Mr Morton, the prisoner forwhom you interested yourself yesterday morning, interposed in the mostgenerous manner, preserved my life, and furnished me with the means ofescaping."
As he ended the sentence, a painful curiosity overcame his firstresolution; he raised his eyes to Edith's face, and imagined he couldread in the glow of her cheek and the sparkle of her eye, joy at hearingof her lover's safety and freedom, and triumph at his not having beenleft last in the race of generosity. Such, indeed, were her feelings; butthey were also mingled with admiration of the ready frankness with whichLord Evandale had hastened to bear witness to the merit of a favouredrival, and to acknowledge an obligation which, in all probability, hewould rather have owed to any other individual in the world.
Major Bellenden, who would never have observed the emotions of eitherparty, even had they been much more markedly expressed, contented himselfwith saying, "Since Henry Morton has influence with these rascals, I amglad he has so exerted it; but I hope he will get clear of them as soonas he can. Indeed, I cannot doubt it. I know his principles, and that hedetests their cant and hypocrisy. I have heard him laugh a thousand timesat the pedantry of that old presbyterian scoundrel, Poundtext, who, afterenjoying the indulgence of the government for so many years, has now,upon the very first ruffle, shown himself in his own proper colours, andset off, with three parts of his cropeared congregation, to join the hostof the fanatics.--But how did you escape after leaving the field, mylord?"
"I rode for my life, as a recreant knight must," answered Lord Evandale,smiling. "I took the route where I thought I had least chance of meetingwith any of the enemy, and I found shelter for several hours--you willhardly guess where."
"At Castle Bracklan, perhaps," said Lady Margaret, "or in the house ofsome other loyal gentleman?"
"No, madam. I was repulsed, under one mean pretext or another, from morethan one house of that description, for fear of the enemy following mytraces; but I found refuge in the cottage of a poor widow, whose husbandhad been shot within these three months by a party of our corps, andwhose two sons are at this very moment with the insurgents."
"Indeed?" said Lady Margaret Bellenden; "and was a fanatic woman capableof such generosity?--but she disapproved, I suppose, of the tenets of herfamily?"
"Far from it, madam," continued the young nobleman; "she was in principlea rigid recusant, but she saw my danger and distress, considered me as afellow-creature, and forgot that I was a cavalier and a soldier. Shebound my wounds, and permitted me to rest upon her bed, concealed me froma party of the insurgents who were seeking for stragglers, supplied mewith food, and did not suffer me to leave my place of refuge until shehad learned that I had every chance of getting to this tower withoutdanger."
"It was nobly done," said Miss Bellenden; "and I trust you will have anopportunity of rewarding her generosity."
"I am running up an arrear of obligation on all sides, Miss Bellenden,during these unfortunate occurrences," replied Lord Evandale; "but when Ican attain the means of showing my gratitude, the will shall not bewanting."
All now joined in pressing Lord Evandale to relinquish his intention ofleaving the Castle; but the argument of Major Bellenden proved the mosteffectual.
"Your presence in the Castle will be most useful, if not absolutelynecessary, my lord, in order to maintain, by your authority, properdiscipline among the fellows whom Claverhouse has left in garrison here,and who do not prove to
be of the most orderly description of inmates;and, indeed, we have the Colonel's authority, for that very purpose, todetain any officer of his regiment who might pass this way."
"That," said Lord Evandale, "is an unanswerable argument, since it showsme that my residence here may be useful, even in my present disabledstate."
"For your wounds, my lord," said the Major, "if my sister, LadyBellenden, will undertake to give battle to any feverish symptom, if suchshould appear, I will answer that my old campaigner, Gideon Pike, shalldress a flesh-wound with any of the incorporation of Barber-Surgeons. Hehad enough of practice in Montrose's time, for we had few regularly-bredarmy chirurgeons, as you may well suppose.--You agree to stay with us,then?"
"My reasons for leaving the Castle," said Lord Evandale, glancing a looktowards Edith, "though they evidently seemed weighty, must needs give wayto those which infer the power of serving you. May I presume, Major, toenquire into the means and plan of defence which you have prepared? orcan I attend you to examine the works?"
It did not escape Miss Bellenden, that Lord Evandale seemed muchexhausted both in body and mind. "I think, sir," she said, addressing theMajor, "that since Lord Evandale condescends to become an officer of ourgarrison, you should begin by rendering him amenable to your authority,and ordering him to his apartment, that he may take some refreshment erehe enters on military discussions."
"Edith is right," said the old lady; "you must go instantly to bed, mylord, and take some febrifuge, which I will prepare with my own hand; andmy lady-in-waiting, Mistress Martha Weddell, shall make some friar'schicken, or something very light. I would not advise wine.--John Gudyill,let the housekeeper make ready the chamber of dais. Lord Evandale mustlie down instantly. Pike will take off the dressings, and examine thestate of the wounds."
"These are melancholy preparations, madam," said Lord Evandale, as hereturned thanks to Lady Margaret, and was about to leave the hall,--"butI must submit to your ladyship's directions; and I trust that your skillwill soon make me a more able defender of your castle than I am atpresent. You must render my body serviceable as soon as you can, for youhave no use for my head while you have Major Bellenden."
With these words he left the apartment.
"An excellent young man, and a modest," said the Major.
"None of that conceit," said Lady Margaret, "that often makes young folksuppose they know better how their complaints should be treated thanpeople that have had experience."
"And so generous and handsome a young nobleman," said Jenny Dennison, whohad entered during the latter part of this conversation, and was now leftalone with her mistress in the hall, the Major returning to his militarycares, and Lady Margaret to her medical preparations.
Edith only answered these encomiums with a sigh; but, although silent,she felt and knew better than any one how much they were merited by theperson on whom they were bestowed. Jenny, however, failed not to followup her blow.
"After a', it's true that my lady says--there's nae trusting apresbyterian; they are a' faithless man-sworn louns. Whae wad hae thoughtthat young Milnwood and Cuddie Headrigg wad hae taen on wi' thae rebelblackguards?"
"What do you mean by such improbable nonsense, Jenny?" said her youngmistress, very much displeased.
"I ken it's no pleasing for you to hear, madam," answered Jenny hardily;"and it's as little pleasant for me to tell; but as gude ye suld ken a'about it sune as syne, for the haill Castle's ringing wi't."
"Ringing with what, Jenny? Have you a mind to drive me mad?" answeredEdith, impatiently.
"Just that Henry Morton of Milnwood is out wi' the rebels, and ane o'their chief leaders."
"It is a falsehood!" said Edith--"a most base calumny! and you are verybold to dare to repeat it to me. Henry Morton is incapable of suchtreachery to his king and country--such cruelty to me--to--to all theinnocent and defenceless victims, I mean, who must suffer in a civilwar--I tell you he is utterly incapable of it, in every sense."
"Dear! dear! Miss Edith," replied Jenny, still constant to her text,"they maun be better acquainted wi' young men than I am, or ever wish tobe, that can tell preceesely what they're capable or no capable o'. Butthere has been Trooper Tam, and another chield, out in bonnets and greyplaids, like countrymen, to recon--reconnoitre--I think John Gudyill ca'dit; and they hae been amang the rebels, and brought back word that theyhad seen young Milnwood mounted on ane o' the dragoon horses that wastaen at Loudon-hill, armed wi' swords and pistols, like wha but him, andhand and glove wi' the foremost o' them, and dreeling and commanding themen; and Cuddie at the heels o' him, in ane o' Sergeant Bothwell's lacedwaistcoats, and a cockit hat with a bab o' blue ribbands at it for theauld cause o' the Covenant, (but Cuddie aye liked a blue ribband,) and aruffled sark, like ony lord o' the land--it sets the like o' him,indeed!"
"Jenny," said her young mistress hastily, "it is impossible these men'sreport can be true; my uncle has heard nothing of it at this instant."
"Because Tam Halliday," answered the handmaiden, "came in just fiveminutes after Lord Evandale; and when he heard his lordship was in theCastle, he swore (the profane loon!) he would be d--d ere he would makethe report, as he ca'd it, of his news to Major Bellenden, since therewas an officer of his ain regiment in the garrison. Sae he wad have saidnaething till Lord Evandale wakened the next morning; only he tauld meabout it," (here Jenny looked a little down,) "just to vex me aboutCuddie."
"Poh, you silly girl," said Edith, assuming some courage, "it is all atrick of that fellow to teaze you."
"Na, madam, it canna be that, for John Gudyill took the other dragoon(he's an auld hard-favoured man, I wotna his name) into the cellar, andgae him a tass o' brandy to get the news out o' him, and he said just thesame as Tam Halliday, word for word; and Mr Gudyill was in sic a rage,that he tauld it a' ower again to us, and says the haill rebellion isowing to the nonsense o' my Leddy and the Major, and Lord Evandale, thatbegged off young Milnwood and Cuddie yesterday morning, for that, if theyhad suffered, the country wad hae been quiet--and troth I am muckle o'that opinion mysell."
This last commentary Jenny added to her tale, in resentment of hermistress's extreme and obstinate incredulity. She was instantly alarmed,however, by the effect which her news produced upon her young lady, aneffect rendered doubly violent by the High-church principles andprejudices in which Miss Bellenden had been educated. Her complexionbecame as pale as a corpse, her respiration so difficult that it was onthe point of altogether failing her, and her limbs so incapable ofsupporting her, that she sunk, rather than sat, down upon one of theseats in the hall, and seemed on the eve of fainting. Jenny tried coldwater, burnt feathers, cutting of laces, and all other remedies usual inhysterical cases, but without any immediate effect.
"God forgie me! what hae I done?" said the repentant fille-de-chambre. "Iwish my tongue had been cuttit out!--Wha wad hae thought o' her taking onthat way, and a' for a young lad?--O, Miss Edith--dear Miss Edith, haudyour heart up about it, it's maybe no true for a' that I hae said--O, Iwish my mouth had been blistered! A' body tells me my tongue will do me amischief some day. What if my Leddy comes? or the Major?--and she'ssitting in the throne, too, that naebody has sate in since that wearymorning the King was here!--O, what will I do! O, what will become o'us!"
While Jenny Dennison thus lamented herself and her mistress, Edith slowlyreturned from the paroxysm into which she had been thrown by thisunexpected intelligence.
"If he had been unfortunate," she said, "I never would have deserted him.I never did so, even when there was danger and disgrace in pleading hiscause. If he had died, I would have mourned him--if he had beenunfaithful, I would have forgiven him; but a rebel to his King,--atraitor to his country,--the associate and colleague of cut-throats andcommon stabbers,--the persecutor of all that is noble,--the professed andblasphemous enemy of all that is sacred,--I will tear him from my heart,if my life-blood should ebb in the effort!"
She wiped her eyes, and rose hastily from the great chair, (or throne, asLady Margaret used
to call it,) while the terrified damsel hastened toshake up the cushion, and efface the appearance of any one havingoccupied that sacred seat; although King Charles himself, considering theyouth and beauty as well as the affliction of the momentary usurper ofhis hallowed chair, would probably have thought very little of theprofanation. She then hastened officiously to press her support on Edith,as she paced the hall apparently in deep meditation.
"Tak my arm, madam; better just tak my arm; sorrow maun hae its vent, anddoubtless"--
"No, Jenny," said Edith, with firmness; "you have seen my weakness, andyou shall see my strength."
"But ye leaned on me the other morning. Miss Edith, when ye were sae sairgrieved."
"Misplaced and erring affection may require support, Jenny--duty cansupport itself; yet I will do nothing rashly. I will be aware of thereasons of his conduct--and then--cast him off for ever," was the firmand determined answer of her young lady.
Overawed by a manner of which she could neither conceive the motive, norestimate the merit, Jenny muttered between her teeth, "Odd, when thefirst flight's ower, Miss Edith taks it as easy as I do, and muckleeasier, and I'm sure I ne'er cared half sae muckle about Cuddie Headriggas she did about young Milnwood. Forby that, it's maybe as weel to hae afriend on baith sides; for, if the whigs suld come to tak the Castle, asit's like they may, when there's sae little victual, and the dragoonswasting what's o't, ou, in that case, Milnwood and Cuddie wad hae theupper hand, and their freendship wad be worth siller--I was thinking saethis morning or I heard the news."
With this consolatory reflection the damsel went about her usualoccupations, leaving her mistress to school her mind as she best might,for eradicating the sentiments which she had hitherto entertained towardsHenry Morton.
