by Walter Scott
CHAPTER XVI
NARRATIVE OF ALAN FAIRFORD, CONTINUED
On the next morning, when Fairford awoke, after no very refreshingslumbers, in which were mingled many wild dreams of his father and ofDarsie Latimer,--of the damsel in the green mantle and the vestals ofFairladies,--of drinking small beer with Nanty Ewart and being immersedin the Solway with the JUMPING JENNY,--he found himself in no conditionto dispute the order of Mr. Ambrose, that he should keep his bed, fromwhich, indeed, he could not have raised himself without assistance. Hebecame sensible that his anxiety, and his constant efforts for some dayspast, had been too much for his health, and that, whatever might be hisimpatience, he could not proceed in his undertaking until his strengthwas re-established.
In the meanwhile, no better quarters could have been found for aninvalid. The attendants spoke under their breath, and moved only ontiptoe--nothing was done unless PAR ORDONNANCE DU MEDECIN. Aesculapiusreigned paramount in the premises at Fairladies. Once a day, the ladiescame in great state to wait upon him and inquire after his health, andit was then that; Alan's natural civility, and the thankfulness whichhe expressed for their timely and charitable assistance, raised himconsiderably in their esteem. He was on the third day removed to abetter apartment than that in which he had been at first accommodated.When he was permitted to drink a glass of wine, it was of the firstquality; one of those curious old-fashioned cobwebbed bottles beingproduced on the occasion, which are only to be found in the crypts ofold country-seats, where they may have lurked undisturbed for more thanhalf a century.
But however delightful a residence for an invalid, Fairladies, asits present inmate became soon aware, was not so agreeable to aconvalescent. When he dragged himself to the window so soon as he couldcrawl from bed, behold it was closely grated, and commanded no viewexcept of a little paved court. This was nothing remarkable, mostold Border houses having their windows so secured. But then Fairfordobserved, that whosoever entered or left the room always locked thedoor with great care and circumspection; and some proposals which hemade to take a walk in the gallery, or even in the garden, were socoldly received, both by the ladies and their prime minister, Mr.Ambrose, that he saw plainly such an extension of his privileges as aguest would not be permitted.
Anxious to ascertain whether this excessive hospitality would permithim his proper privilege of free agency, he announced to this importantfunctionary, with grateful thanks for the care with which he had beenattended, his purpose to leave Fairladies next morning, requesting only,as a continuance of the favours with which he had been loaded, theloan of a horse to the next town; and, assuring Mr. Ambrose that hisgratitude would not be limited by such, a trifle, he slipped threeguineas into his hand, by way of seconding his proposal. The fingers ofthat worthy domestic closed as naturally upon the honorarium, as if adegree in the learned faculty had given him a right to clutch it; buthis answer concerning Alan's proposed departure was at first evasive,and when he was pushed, it amounted to a peremptory assurance that hecould not be permitted to depart to-morrow; it was as much as his lifewas worth, and his ladies would not authorize it.
'I know best what my own life is worth,' said Alan; 'and I do not valueit in comparison to the business which requires my instant attention.'
Receiving still no satisfactory answer from Mr. Ambrose, Fairfordthought it best to state his resolution to the ladies themselves, inthe most measured, respectful, and grateful terms; but still such asexpressed a firm determination to depart on the morrow, or next dayat farthest. After some attempts to induce him to stay, on the allegedscore of health, which were so expressed that he was convinced they wereonly used to delay his departure, Fairford plainly told them that he wasentrusted with dispatches of consequence to the gentleman known by thename of Herries, Redgauntlet, and the Laird of the Lochs; and that itwas matter of life and death to deliver them early.
'I dare say, Sister Angelica,' said the elder Miss Arthuret, that thegentleman is honest; and if he is really a relation of Father Fairford,we can run no risk.'
'Jesu Maria!' exclaimed the younger. 'Oh, fie, Sister Seraphina! Fie,fie!--'VADE RETRO--get thee behind me!'
'Well, well; but, sister--Sister Angelica--let me speak with you in thegallery.'
So out the ladies rustled in their silks and tissues, and it was a goodhalf-hour ere they rustled in again, with importance and awe on theircountenances.
'To tell you the truth, Mr. Fairford, the cause of our desire to delayyou is--there is a religious gentleman in this house at present'--
'A most excellent person indeed'--said the sister Angelica.
'An anointed of his Master!' echoed Seraphina,--'and we should be gladthat, for conscience' sake, you would hold some discourse with himbefore your departure.'
'Oho!' thought Fairford, 'the murder is out--here is a design ofconversion! I must not affront the good ladies, but I shall soon sendoff the priest, I think.' He then answered aloud, 'that he should behappy to converse with any friend of theirs--that in religious mattershe had the greatest respect for every modification of Christianity,though, he must say, his belief was made up to that in which he hadbeen educated; nevertheless, if his seeing the religious person theyrecommended could in the least show his respect'--
'It is not quite that,' said Sister Seraphina, 'although I am sure theday is too short to hear him--Father Buonaventure, I mean--speak uponthe concerns of our souls; but'--
'Come, come, Sister Seraphina,' said the younger, 'it is needlessto talk so much about it. His--his Eminence--I mean FatherBuonaventure--will himself explain what he wants this gentleman toknow.'
'His Eminence!' said Fairford, surprised--'is this gentleman so high inthe Catholic Church? The title is given only to Cardinals, I think.'
'He is not a Cardinal as yet,' answered Seraphina; 'but I assure you,Mr. Fairford, he is as high in rank as he is eminently endowed with goodgifts, and'--
'Come away,' said Sister Angelica. 'Holy Virgin, how you do talk! Whathas Mr. Fairford to do with Father Buonaventure's rank? Only, sir, youwill remember that the Father has been always accustomed to be treatedwith the most profound deference; indeed'--
'Come away, sister,' said Sister Seraphina, in her turn; 'who talks now,I pray you? Mr. Fairford will know how to comport himself.'
'And we had best both leave the room,' said the younger lady, 'for herehis Eminence comes.'
She lowered her voice to a whisper as she pronounced the last words; andas Fairford was about to reply, by assuring her that any friend of hersshould be treated by him with all the ceremony he could expect, sheimposed silence on him, by holding up her finger.
A solemn and stately step was now heard in the gallery; it might haveproclaimed the approach not merely of a bishop or cardinal, but ofthe Sovereign Pontiff himself. Nor could the sound have been morerespectfully listened to by the two ladies, had it announced that theHead of the Church was approaching in person. They drew themselves,like sentinels on duty, one on each side of the door by which thelong gallery communicated with Fairford's apartment, and stood thereimmovable, and with countenances expressive of the deepest reverence.
The approach of Father Buonaventure was so slow, that Fairford had timeto notice all this, and to marvel in his mind what wily and ambitiouspriest could have contrived to subject his worthy but simple-mindedhostesses to such superstitious trammels. Father Buonaventure's entranceand appearance in some degree accounted for the whole.
He was a man of middle life, about forty or upwards; but either care, orfatigue, or indulgence, had brought on the appearance of prematureold age, and given to his fine features a cast of seriousness or evensadness. A noble countenance, however, still remained; and though hiscomplexion was altered, and wrinkles stamped upon his brow in many amelancholy fold, still the lofty forehead, the full and well-opened eye,and the well-formed nose, showed how handsome in better days hemust have been. He was tall, but lost the advantage of his heightby stooping; and the cane which he wore always in his hand, andoccasionally used,
as well as his slow though majestic gait, seemed tointimate that his form and limbs felt already some touch of infirmity.The colour of his hair could not be discovered, as, according to thefashion, he wore a periwig. He was handsomely, though gravely dressed ina secular habit, and had a cockade in his hat; circumstances which didnot surprise Fairford, who knew that a military disguise was very oftenassumed by the seminary priests, whose visits to England, or residencethere, subjected them to legal penalties.
As this stately person entered the apartment, the two ladies facinginward, like soldiers on their post when about to salute a superiorofficer, dropped on either hand of the father a curtsy so profound thatthe hoop petticoats which performed the feat seemed to sink down tothe very floor, nay, through it, as if a trap-door had opened for thedescent of the dames who performed this act of reverence.
The father seemed accustomed to such homage, profound as it was; heturned his person a little way first towards one sister, and thentowards the other, while, with a gracious inclination of his person,which certainly did not amount to a bow, he acknowledged their curtsy.But he passed forward without addressing them, and seemed by doing so tointimate that their presence in the apartment was unnecessary.
They accordingly glided out of the room, retreating backwards, withhands clasped and eyes cast upwards, as if imploring blessings on thereligious man whom they venerated so highly. The door of the apartmentwas shut after them, but not before Fairford had perceived that therewere one or two men in the gallery, and that, contrary to what he hadbefore observed, the door, though shut, was not locked on the outside.
'Can the good souls apprehend danger from me to this god of theiridolatry?' thought Fairford. But he had no time to make furtherobservations, for the stranger had already reached the middle of hisapartment.
Fairford rose to receive him respectfully, but as he fixed his eyes onthe visitor, he thought that the father avoided his looks. His reasonsfor remaining incognito were cogent enough to account for this, andFairford hastened to relieve him, by looking downwards in his turn;but when again he raised his face, he found the broad light eye of thestranger so fixed on him that he was almost put out of countenance bythe steadiness of his gaze. During this time they remained standing.
'Take your seat, sir,' said the father; 'you have been an invalid.'
He spoke with the tone of one who desires an inferior to be seated inhis presence, and his voice was full and melodious.
Fairford, somewhat surprised to find himself overawed by the airs ofsuperiority, which could be only properly exercised towards one overwhom religion gave the speaker influence, sat down at his bidding, asif moved by springs, and was at a loss how to assert the footing ofequality on which he felt that they ought to stand. The stranger keptthe advantage which he had obtained.
'Your name, sir, I am informed, is Fairford?' said the father.
Alan answered by a bow.
'Called to the Scottish bar,' continued his visitor, 'There is, Ibelieve, in the West, a family of birth and rank called Fairford ofFairford.'
Alan thought this a strange observation from a foreign ecclesiastic,as his name intimated Father Buonaventure to be; but only answered hebelieved there was such, a family.
'Do you count kindred with them, Mr. Fairford?' continued the inquirer.
'I have not the honour to lay such a claim,' said Fairford.
'My father's industry has raised his family from a low and obscuresituation--I have no hereditary claim to distinction of any kind. May Iask the cause of these inquiries?'
'You will learn it presently,' said Father Buonaventure, who had givena dry and dissatisfied HEM at the young man's acknowledging a plebeiandescent. He then motioned to him to be silent, and proceeded with hisqueries.
'Although not of condition, you are, doubtless, by sentiments andeducation, a man of honour and a gentleman?'
'I hope so, sir,' said Alan, colouring with displeasure. 'I have notbeen accustomed to have it questioned.'
'Patience, young man,' said the unperturbed querist--'we are on seriousbusiness, and no idle etiquette must prevent its being discussedseriously. You are probably aware that you speak to a person proscribedby the severe and unjust laws of the present government?'
'I am aware of the statute 1700, chapter 3,' said Alan, 'banishing fromthe realm priests and trafficking Papists, and punishing by death, onsummary conviction, any such person who being so banished may return.But I have no means of knowing you, sir, to be one of those persons; andI think your prudence may recommend to you to keep your own counsel.'
'It is sufficient, sir; and I have no apprehensions of disagreeableconsequences from your having seen me in this house,' said the priest.
'Assuredly no,' said Alan. 'I consider myself as indebted for my life tothe mistresses of Fairladies; and it would be a vile requital on mypart to pry into or make known what I may have seen or heard underthis hospitable roof. If I were to meet the Pretender himself in sucha situation, he should, even at the risk of a little stretch to myloyalty, be free from any danger from my indiscretion.'
'The Pretender!' said the priest, with some angry emphasis; butimmediately softened his tone and added, 'No doubt, however, thatperson is a pretender; and some people think his pretensions are not illfounded. But, before running into politics, give me leave to say, that Iam surprised to find a gentleman of your opinions in habits of intimacywith Mr. Maxwell of Summertrees and Mr. Redgauntlet, and the medium ofconducting the intercourse betwixt them.'
'Pardon me, sir,' replied Alan Fairford; 'I do not aspire to the honourof being reputed their confidant or go-between. My concern with thosegentlemen is limited to one matter of business, dearly interesting tome, because it concerns the safety--perhaps the life--of my dearestfriend.'
'Would you have any objection to entrust me with the cause of yourjourney?' said Father Buonaventure. 'My advice may be of service to you,and my influence with one or both these gentlemen is considerable.'
Fairford hesitated a moment, and, hastily revolving all circumstances,concluded that he might perhaps receive some advantage from propitiatingthis personage; while, on the other hand, he endangered nothing bycommunicating to him the occasion of his journey. He, therefore, afterstating shortly that he hoped Mr. Buonaventure would render him the sameconfidence which he required on his part, gave a short account of DarsieLatimer--of the mystery which hung over his family--and of the disasterwhich had befallen him. Finally, of his own resolution to seek for hisfriend, and to deliver him, at the peril of his own life.
The Catholic priest, whose manner it seemed to be to avoid allconversation which did not arise from his own express motion, madeno remarks upon what he had heard, but only asked one or two abruptquestions, where Alan's narrative appeared less clear to him; thenrising from his seat, he took two turns through the apartment, mutteringbetween his teeth, with emphasis, the word 'madman!' But apparently hewas in the habit of keeping all violent emotions under restraint; for hepresently addressed Fairford with the most perfect indifference.
'If,' said he, 'you thought you could do so without breach ofconfidence, I wish you would have the goodness to show me the letterof Mr. Maxwell of Summertrees. I desire to look particularly at theaddress.'
Seeing no cause to decline this extension of his confidence, Alan,without hesitation, put the letter into his hand. Having turned itround as old Trumbull and Nanty Ewart had formerly done, and, like them,having examined the address with much minuteness, he asked whether hehad observed these words, pointing to a pencil-writing upon the underside of the letter. Fairford answered in the negative, and, lookingat the letter, read with surprise, 'CAVE NE LITERAS BELLEROPHONTISADFERRES'; a caution which coincided so exactly with the provost'sadmonition, that he would do well to inspect the letter of which he wasbearer, that he was about to spring up and attempt an escape, he knewnot wherefore, or from whom.
'Sit still, young man,' said the father, with the same tone of authoritywhich reigned in his whole manner, although mingled wi
th statelycourtesy. 'You are in no danger--my character shall be a pledge for yoursafety. By whom do you suppose these words have been written?'
Fairford could have answered, 'By Nanty Ewart,' for he remembered seeingthat person scribble something with a pencil, although he was not wellenough to observe with accuracy where or upon what. But not knowingwhat suspicions, or what worse consequences the seamen's interest in hisaffairs might draw upon him, he judged it best to answer that he knewnot the hand.
Father Buonaventure was again silent for a moment or two, which heemployed in surveying the letter with the strictest attention; thenstepped to the window, as if to examine the address and writing of theenvelope with the assistance of a stronger light, and Alan Fairfordbeheld him, with no less amazement than high displeasure, coolly anddeliberately break the seal, open the letter, and peruse the contents.
'Stop, sir, hold!' he exclaimed, so soon as his astonishment permittedhim to express his resentment in words; 'by what right do you dare'--
'Peace, young gentleman,' said the father, repelling him with a waveof his hand; 'be assured I do not act without warrant--nothing can passbetwixt Mr. Maxwell and Mr. Redgauntlet that I am not fully entitled toknow.'
'It may be so,' said Alan, extremely angry; 'but though you may be thesegentlemen's father confessor, you are not mine; and in breaking the sealof a letter entrusted to my care, you have done me'--
'No injury, I assure you,' answered the unperturbed priest; 'on thecontrary, it may be a service.'
'I desire no advantage at such a rate, or to be obtained in such amanner,' answered Fairford; 'restore me the letter instantly, or'--
'As you regard your own safety,' said the priest, 'forbear all injuriousexpressions, and all menacing gestures. I am not one who can bethreatened or insulted with impunity; and there are enough withinhearing to chastise any injury or affront offered to me, in case I maythink it unbecoming to protect or avenge myself with my own hand.'
In saying this, the father assumed an air of such fearlessness and calmauthority, that the young lawyer, surprised and overawed, forbore, as hehad intended, to snatch the letter from his hand, and confined himselfto bitter complaints of the impropriety of his conduct, and of the lightin which he himself must be placed to Redgauntlet should he present hima letter with a broken seal.
'That,' said Father Buonaventure, 'shall be fully cared for. I willmyself write to Redgauntlet, and enclose Maxwell's letter, providedalways you continue to desire to deliver it, after perusing thecontents.'
He then restored the letter to Fairford, and, observing that hehesitated to peruse it, said emphatically, 'Read it, for it concernsyou.'
This recommendation, joined to what Provost Crosbie had formerlyrecommended, and to the warning which he doubted not that Nanty intendedto convey by his classical allusion, decided Fairford's resolution. 'Ifthese correspondents,' he thought, 'are conspiring against my person,I have a right to counterplot them; self-preservation, as well as myfriend's safety, require that I should not be too scrupulous.'
So thinking, he read the letter, which was in the following words:--
'DEAR RUGGED AND DANGEROUS, 'Will you never cease meriting your oldnick-name? You have springed your dottrel, I find, and what is theconsequence?--why, that there will be hue and cry after you presently.The bearer is a pert young lawyer, who has brought a formal complaintagainst you, which, luckily, he has preferred in a friendly court.Yet, favourable as the judge was disposed to be, it was with the utmostdifficulty that cousin Jenny and I could keep him to his tackle. Hebegins to be timid, suspicious, and untractable, and I fear Jenny willsoon bend her brows on him in vain. I know not what to advise--thelad who carries this is a good lad--active for his friend--and I havepledged my honour he shall have no personal ill-usage. Pledged myhonour, remark these words, and remember I can be rugged and dangerousas well, as my neighbours. But I have not ensured him against a shortcaptivity, and as he is a stirring active fellow, I see no remedy butkeeping him out of the way till this business of the good Father B----is safely blown over, which God send it were!--Always thine, even shouldI be once more CRAIG-IN-PERIL.'
'What think you, young man, of the danger you have been about toencounter so willingly?'
'As strangely,' replied Alan Fairford, 'as of the extraordinary meanswhich you have been at present pleased to use for the discovery of Mr.Maxwell's purpose.
'Trouble not yourself to account for my conduct,' said the father; 'Ihave a warrant for what I do, and fear no responsibility. But tell mewhat is your present purpose.'
'I should not perhaps name it to you, whose own safety may beimplicated.'
'I understand you,' answered the father; 'you would appeal to theexisting government? That can at no rate be permitted--we will ratherdetain you at Fairladies by compulsion.'
'You will probably,' said Fairford, 'first weigh the risk of such aproceeding in a free country.'
'I have incurred more formidable hazard,' said the priest, smiling; 'yetI am willing to find a milder expedient. Come; let us bring the matterto a compromise.' And he assumed a conciliating graciousness ofmanner, which struck Fairford as being rather too condescending for theoccasion; 'I presume you will be satisfied to remain here in seclusionfor a day or two longer, provided I pass my solemn word to you that youshall meet with the person whom you seek after--meet with him in perfectsafety, and, I trust, in good health, and be afterwards both at libertyto return to Scotland, or dispose of yourselves as each of you may beminded?'
'I respect the VERBUM SACERDOTIS as much as can reasonably be expectedfrom a Protestant,' answered Fairford; 'but methinks, you can scarceexpect me to repose so much confidence in the word of an unknown personas is implied in the guarantee which you offer me.'
'I am not accustomed, sir,' said the father, in a very haughty tone, 'tohave my word disputed. But,' he added, while the angry hue passed fromhis cheek, after a moment's reflection, 'you know me not, and ought tobe excused. I will repose more confidence in your honour than you seemwilling to rest upon mine; and, since we are so situated that one mustrely upon the other's faith, I will cause you to be set presently atliberty, and furnished with the means of delivering your letter asaddressed, provided that now, knowing the contents, you think it safefor yourself to execute the commission.'
Alan Fairford paused. 'I cannot see,' he at length replied, 'how I canproceed with respect to the accomplishment of my sole purpose, which isthe liberation of my friend, without appealing to the law and obtainingthe assistance of a magistrate. If I present this singular letter ofMr. Maxwell, with the contents of which I have become so unexpectedlyacquainted, I shall only share his captivity.'
'And if you apply to a magistrate, young man, you will bring ruin onthese hospitable ladies, to whom, in all human probability, you owe yourlife. You cannot obtain a warrant for your purpose, without giving aclear detail of all the late scenes through which you have passed. Amagistrate would oblige you to give a complete account of yourself,before arming you with his authority against a third party; and ingiving such an account, the safety of these ladies will necessarily becompromised. A hundred spies have had, and still have, their eyesupon this mansion; but God will protect his own.'--He crossed himselfdevoutly, and then proceeded,--'You can take an hour to think of yourbest plan, and I will pledge myself to forward it thus far, providedit be not asking you to rely more on my word than your prudence canwarrant. You shall go to Redgauntlet,--I name him plainly, to showmy confidence in you,--and you shall deliver him this letter of Mr.Maxwell's, with one from me, in which I will enjoin him to set yourfriend at liberty, or at least to make no attempts upon your own person,either by detention or otherwise. If you can trust me thus far,' hesaid, with a proud emphasis on the words 'I will on my side see youdepart from this place with the most perfect confidence that you willnot return armed with powers to drag its inmates to destruction. Youare young and inexperienced--bred to a profession also which sharpenssuspicion, and gives false views of human nature. I have seen muc
h ofthe world, and have known better than most men how far mutual confidenceis requisite in managing affairs of consequence.'
He spoke with an air of superiority, even of authority, by whichFairford, notwithstanding his own internal struggles, was silenced andoverawed so much, that it was not till the father had turned to leavethe apartment that he found words to ask him what the consequences wouldbe, should he decline to depart on the terms proposed.
'You must then, for the safety of all parties, remain for some daysan inhabitant of Fairladies, where we have the means of detaining you,which self-preservation will in that case compel us to make use of. Yourcaptivity will be short; for matters cannot long remain as they are. Thecloud must soon rise, or it must sink upon us for ever. BENEDICITE!'
With these words he left the apartment.
Fairford, upon his departure, felt himself much at a loss what course topursue. His line of education, as well as his father's tenets in mattersof church and state, had taught him a holy horror for Papists, and adevout belief in whatever had been said of the Punic faith of Jesuits,and of the expedients of mental reservation by which the Catholicpriests in general were supposed to evade keeping faith with heretics.Yet there was something of majesty, depressed indeed and overclouded,but still grand and imposing, in the manner and words of FatherBuonaventure, which it was difficult to reconcile with thosepreconceived opinions which imputed subtlety and fraud to his sect andorder. Above all, Alan was aware that if he accepted not his freedomupon the terms offered him, he was likely to be detained by force; sothat, in every point of view, he was a gainer by accepting them.
A qualm, indeed, came across him, when he considered, as a lawyer, thatthis father was probably, in the eye of law, a traitor; and that therewas an ugly crime on the Statute Book, called misprision of treason. Onthe other hand, whatever he might think or suspect, he could not takeupon him to say that the man was a priest, whom he had never seen in thedress of his order, or in the act of celebrating mass; so that he felthimself at liberty to doubt of that respecting which he possessed nolegal proof. He therefore arrived at the conclusion, that he woulddo well to accept his liberty, and proceed to Redgauntlet under theguarantee of Father Buonaventure, which he scarce doubted would besufficient to save him from personal inconvenience. Should he onceobtain speech of that gentleman, he felt the same confidence asformerly, that he might be able to convince him of the rashness ofhis conduct, should he not consent to liberate Darsie Latimer. At allevents, he should learn where his friend was, and how circumstanced.
Having thus made up his mind, Alan waited anxiously for the expirationof the hour which had been allowed him for deliberation. He was not kepton the tenter-hooks of impatience an instant longer than the appointedmoment arrived, for, even as the clock struck, Ambrose appeared at thedoor of the gallery, and made a sign that Alan should follow him. He didso, and after passing through some of the intricate avenues common inold houses, was ushered into a small apartment, commodiously fittedup, in which he found Father Buonaventure reclining on a couch, in theattitude of a man exhausted by fatigue or indisposition. On a smalltable beside him, a silver embossed salver sustained a Catholic book ofprayer, a small flask of medicine, a cordial, and a little tea-cup ofold china. Ambrose did not enter the room--he only bowed profoundly, andclosed the door with the least possible noise, so soon as Fairford hadentered.
'Sit down, young man,' said the father, with the same air ofcondescension which had before surprised, and rather offendedFairford. 'You have been ill, and I know too well by my own case thatindisposition requires indulgence. Have you,' he continued, so soon ashe saw him seated, 'resolved to remain, or to depart?'
'To depart,' said Alan, 'under the agreement that you will guarantee mysafety with the extraordinary person who has conducted himself in such alawless manner toward my friend, Darsie Latimer.'
'Do not judge hastily, young man,' replied the father. 'Redgauntlethas the claims of a guardian over his ward, in respect to the younggentleman, and a right to dictate his place of residence, although hemay have been injudicious in selecting the means by which he thinks toenforce his authority.'
'His situation as an attainted person abrogates such rights,' saidFairford, hastily.
'Surely,' replied the priest, smiling at the young lawyer's readiness;'in the eye of those who acknowledge the justice of the attainder--butthat do not I. However, sir, here is the guarantee--look at itscontents, and do not again carry the letters of Uriah.'
Fairford read these words:--
'GOOD FRIEND, 'We send you hither a young man desirous to know thesituation of your ward, since he came under your paternal authority, andhopeful of dealing with you for having your relative put at large. Thiswe recommend to your prudence, highly disapproving, at the same time, ofany force or coercion when such can be avoided, and wishing, therefore,that the bearer's negotiation may be successful. At all rates, however,the bearer hath our pledged word for his safety and freedom, which,therefore, you are to see strictly observed, as you value our honour andyour own. We further wish to converse with you, with as small loss oftime as may be, having matters of the utmost confidence to impart.For this purpose we desire you to repair hither with all haste, andthereupon we bid you heartily farewell. P. B.'
'You will understand, sir,' said the father, when he saw that Alan hadperused his letter, 'that, by accepting charge of this missive, you bindyourself to try the effect of it before having recourse to any legalmeans, as you term them, for your friend's release.'
'There are a few ciphers added to this letter,' said Fairford, when hehad perused the paper attentively,--'may I inquire what their importis?'
'They respect my own affairs,' answered the father, briefly; 'and haveno concern whatever with yours.'
'It seems to me, however,' replied Alan, 'natural to suppose'--
'Nothing must be supposed incompatible with my honour,' replied thepriest, interrupting him; 'when such as I am confer favours, we expectthat they shall be accepted with gratitude, or declined with thankfulrespect--not questioned or discussed.'
'I will accept your letter, then,' said Fairford, after a minute'sconsideration, 'and the thanks you expect shall be most liberally paid,if the result answer what you teach me to expect.'
'God only commands the issue,' said Father Buonaventure. 'Man usesmeans. You understand that, by accepting this commission, you engageyourself in honour to try the effect of my letter upon Mr. Redgauntlet,before you have recourse to informations or legal warrants?'
'I hold myself bound, as a man of good faith and honour, to do so,' saidFairford.
'Well, I trust you,' said the father. 'I will now tell you that anexpress, dispatched by me last night, has, I hear, brought Redgauntletto a spot many miles nearer this place, where he will not find it safeto attempt any violence on your friend, should he be rash enough tofollow the advice of Mr. Maxwell of Summertrees rather than my commands.We now understand each other.'
He extended his hand towards Alan, who was about to pledge his faith inthe usual form by grasping it with his own, when the father drewback hastily. Ere Alan had time to comment upon this repulse, a smallside-door, covered with tapestry, was opened; the hangings weredrawn aside, and a lady, as if by sudden apparition, glided into theapartment. It was neither of the Misses Arthuret, but a woman in theprime of life, and in the full-blown expansion of female beauty, tall,fair, and commanding in her aspect. Her locks, of paly gold, were taughtto fall over a brow, which, with the stately glance of the large, open,blue eyes, might have become Juno herself; her neck and bosom wereadmirably formed, and of a dazzling whiteness. She was rather inclinedto EMBONPOINT, but not more than became her age, of apparently thirtyyears. Her step was that of a queen, but it was of Queen Vashti, notQueen Esther--the bold and commanding, not the retiring beauty.
Father Buonaventure raised himself on the couch, angrily, as ifdispleased by this intrusion. 'How now, madam,' he said, with somesternness; 'why have we the honour of your company?'
'Be
cause it is my pleasure,' answered the lady, composedly.
'Your pleasure, madam!' he repeated in the same angry tone.
'My pleasure, sir,' she continued, 'which always keeps exact pace withmy duty. I had heard you were unwell--let me hope it is only businesswhich produces this seclusion.'
'I am well,' he replied; 'perfectly well, and I thank you for yourcare--but we are not alone, and this young man'--
'That young man?' she said, bending her large and serious eye onAlan Fairford, as if she had been for the first time aware of hispresence,--'may I ask who he is?'
'Another time, madam; you shall learn his history after he is gone. Hispresence renders it impossible for me to explain further.'
'After he is gone may be too late,' said the lady; 'and what is hispresence to me, when your safety is at stake? He is the heretic lawyerwhom those silly fools, the Arthurets, admitted into this house at atime when they should have let their own father knock at the door invain, though the night had been a wild one. You will not surely dismisshim?'
'Your own impatience can alone make that step perilous,' said thefather; 'I have resolved to take it--do not let your indiscreetzeal, however excellent its motive, add any unnecessary risk to thetransaction.'
'Even so?' said the lady, in a tone of reproach, yet mingled withrespect and apprehension. 'And thus you will still go forward, like astag upon the hunter's snares, with undoubting confidence, after allthat has happened?'
'Peace, madam,' said Father Buonaventure, rising up; 'be silent, or quitthe apartment; my designs do not admit of female criticism.'
To this peremptory command the lady seemed about to make a sharp reply;but she checked herself, and pressing her lips strongly together, as ifto secure the words from bursting from them which were already formedupon her tongue, she made a deep reverence, partly as it seemed inreproach, partly in respect, and left the room as suddenly as she hadentered it.
The father looked disturbed at this incident, which he seemed sensiblecould not but fill Fairford's imagination with an additional throng ofbewildering suspicions; he bit his lip and muttered something to himselfas he walked through the apartment; then suddenly turned to his visitorwith a smile of much sweetness, and a countenance in which every rougherexpression was exchanged for those of courtesy and kindness.
'The visit we have been just honoured with, my young friend, has givenyou,' he said, 'more secrets to keep than I would have wishedyou burdened with. The lady is a person of condition--of rank andfortune--but nevertheless is so circumstanced that the mere fact of herbeing known to be in this country would occasion many evils. I shouldwish you to observe secrecy on this subject, even to Redgauntlet orMaxwell, however much I trust them in all that concerns my own affairs.'
'I can have no occasion,' replied Fairford, 'for holding any discussionwith these gentlemen, or with any others, on the circumstance whichI have just witnessed--it could only have become the subject of myconversation by mere accident, and I will now take care to avoid thesubject entirely.'
'You will do well, sir, and I thank you,' said the father, throwing muchdignity into the expression of obligation which he meant to convey. 'Thetime may perhaps come when you will learn what it is to have obliged oneof my condition. As to the lady, she has the highest merit, and nothingcan be said of her justly which would not redound to her praise.Nevertheless--in short, sir, we wander at present as in a morningmist--the sun will, I trust, soon rise and dispel it, when all that nowseems mysterious will be fully revealed--or it will sink into rain,'he added, in a solemn tone, 'and then explanation will be of littleconsequence.--Adieu, sir; I wish you well.'
He made a graceful obeisance, and vanished through the same side-door bywhich the lady had entered; and Alan thought he heard their voices highin dispute in the adjoining apartment.
Presently afterwards, Ambrose entered, and told him that a horse andguide waited him beneath the terrace.
'The good Father Buonaventure,' added the butler, 'has been graciouslypleased to consider your situation, and desired me to inquire whetheryou have any occasion for a supply of money?'
'Make my respects to his reverence,' answered Fairford, 'and assurehim I am provided in that particular. I beg you also to make myacknowledgements to the Misses Arthuret, and assure them that their kindhospitality, to which I probably owe my life, shall be remembered withgratitude as long as that life lasts. You yourself, Mr. Ambrose, mustaccept of my kindest thanks for your skill and attention.'
Mid these acknowledgements they left the house, descended the terrace,and reached the spot where the gardener, Fairford's old acquaintance,waited for him, mounted upon one horse and leading another.
Bidding adieu to Ambrose, our young lawyer mounted, and rode down theavenue, often looking back to the melancholy and neglected dwellingin which he had witnessed such strange scenes, and musing upon thecharacter of its mysterious inmates, especially the noble and almostregal-seeming priest, and the beautiful but capricious dame, who, ifshe was really Father Buonaventure's penitent, seemed less docile to theauthority of the church than, as Alan conceived, the Catholic disciplinepermitted. He could not indeed help being sensible that the wholedeportment of these persons differed much from his preconceived notionsof a priest and devotee. Father Buonaventure, in particular, hadmore natural dignify and less art and affectation in his manner, thanaccorded with the idea which Calvinists were taught to entertain of thatwily and formidable person, a Jesuitical missionary.
While reflecting on these things, he looked back so frequently at thehouse, that Dick Gardener, a forward, talkative fellow, who beganto tire of silence, at length said to him, 'I think you will knowFairladies when you see it again, sir?'
'I dare say I shall, Richard,' answered Fairford good-humouredly.'I wish I knew as well where I am to go next. But you can tell me,perhaps?'
'Your worship should know better than I,' said Dick Gardener;'nevertheless, I have a notion you are going where all you Scotsmenshould be sent, whether you will or no.'
'Not to the devil, I hope, good Dick?' said Fairford.
'Why, no. That is a road which you may travel as heretics; but asScotsmen, I would only send you three-fourths of the way--and that isback to Scotland again--always craving your honour's pardon.'
'Does our journey lie that way?' said Fairford.
'As far as the waterside,' said Richard. 'I am to carry you to oldFather Crackenthorp's, and then you are within a spit and a stride ofScotland, as the saying is. But mayhap you may think twice of goingthither, for all that; for Old England is fat feeding-ground fornorth-country cattle.'
