Rob Roy

by Walter Dill Scott

  ``There's no such plenty of good cheer in your country, my good friend,'' I replied, ``as to tempt you to sit so late at it.''

  ``Hout, sir, ye ken little about Scotland; it's no for want of gude vivers---the best of fish, flesh, and fowl hae we, by sybos, ingans, turneeps, and other garden fruit. But we hae mense and discretion, and are moderate of our mouths;---but here, frae the kitchen to the ha', it's fill and fetch mair, frae the tae end of the four-and-twenty till the tother. Even their fast days--- they ca' it fasting when they hae the best o' sea-fish frae Hartlepool and Sunderland by land carriage, forbye trouts, grilses, salmon, and a' the lave o't, and so they make their very fasting a kind of luxury and abomination; and then the awfu' masses and matins of the puir deceived souls---But I shouldna speak about them, for your honour will be a Roman, I'se warrant, like the lave.''

  ``Not I, my friend; I was bred an English presbyterian, or dissenter.''

  ``The right hand of fellowship to your honour, then,'' quoth the gardener, with as much alacrity as his hard features were capable of expressing, and, as if to show that his good-will did not rest on words, he plucked forth a huge horn snuff-box, or mull, as he called it, and proffered a pinch with a most fraternal grin.

  Having accepted his courtesy, I asked him if he had been long a domestic at Osbaldistone Hall.

  ``I have been fighting with wild beasts at Ephesus,'' said he, looking towards the building, ``for the best part of these four-and-twenty years, as sure as my name's Andrew Fairservice.''

  ``But, my excellent friend, Andrew Fairservice, if your religion and your temperance are so much offended by Roman rituals and southern hospitality, it seems to me that you must have been putting yourself to an unnecessary penance all this while, and that you might have found a service where they eat less, and are more orthodox in their worship. I dare say it cannot be want of skill which prevented your being placed more to your satisfaction.''

  ``It disna become me to speak to the point of my qualifications,'' said Andrew, looking round him with great complacency; ``but nae doubt I should understand my trade of horticulture, seeing I was bred in the parish of Dreepdaily, where they raise lang-kale under glass, and force the early nettles for their spring kale. And, to speak truth, I hae been flitting every term these four-and-twenty years; but when the time comes, there's aye something to saw that I would like to see sawn,---or something to maw that I would like to see mawn,---or something to ripe that I would like to see ripen,---and sae I e'en daiker on wi' the family frae year's end to year's end. And I wad say for certain, that I am gaun to quit at Cannlemas, only I was just as positive on it twenty years syne, and I find mysell still turning up the mouls here, for a' that. Forbye that, to tell your honour the evendown truth, there's nae better place ever offered to Andrew. But if your honour wad wush me to ony place where I wad hear pure doctrine, and hae a free cow's grass, and a cot, and a yard, and mair than ten punds of annual fee, and where there's nae leddy about the town to count the apples, I'se hold mysell muckle indebted t'ye.''

  ``Bravo, Andrew! I perceive you'll lose no preferment for want of asking patronage.''

  ``I canna see what for I should,'' replied Andrew; ``it's no a generation to wait till ane's worth's discovered, I trow.''

  ``But you are no friend, I observe, to the ladies.''

  ``Na, by my troth, I keep up the first gardener's quarrel to them. They're fasheous bargains---aye crying for apricocks, pears, plums, and apples, summer and winter, without distinction o' seasons; but we hae nae slices o' the spare rib here, be praised for't! except auld Martha, and she's weel eneugh pleased wi' the freedom o' the berry-bushes to her sister's weans, when they come to drink tea in a holiday in the housekeeper's room, and wi' a wheen codlings now and then for her ain private supper.''

  ``You forget your young mistress.''

  ``What mistress do I forget?---whae's that?''

  ``Your young mistress, Miss Vernon.''

  ``What! the lassie Vernon?---She's nae mistress o' mine, man. I wish she was her ain mistress; and I wish she mayna be some other body's mistress or it's lang---She's a wild slip that.''

  ``Indeed!'' said I, more interested than I cared to own to myself, or to show to the fellow---``why, Andrew, you know all the secrets of this family.''

  ``If I ken them, I can keep them,'' said Andrew; ``they winna work in my wame like harm in a barrel, I'se warrant ye. Miss Die is---but it's neither beef nor brose o' mine.''

  And he began to dig with a great semblance of assiduity.

  ``What is Miss Vernon, Andrew? I am a friend of the family, and should like to know.''

  ``Other than a gude ane, I'm fearing,'' said Andrew, closing one eye hard, and shaking his head with a grave and mysterious look---``something glee'd---your honour understands me?''

  ``I cannot say I do,'' said I, ``Andrew; but I should like to hear you explain yourself;'' and therewithal I slipped a crown-piece into Andrew's horn-hard hand. The touch of the silver made him grin a ghastly smile, as he nodded slowly, and thrust it into his breeches pocket; and then, like a man who well understood that there was value to be returned, stood up, and rested his arms on his spade, with his features composed into the most important gravity, as for some serious communication.

  ``Ye maun ken, then, young gentleman, since it imports you to know, that Miss Vernon is''------

  Here breaking off, he sucked in both his cheeks, till his lantern jaws and long chin assumed the appearance of a pair of nut-crackers; winked hard once more, frowned, shook his head, and seemed to think his physiognomy had completed the information which his tongue had not fully told.

  ``Good God!'' said I---``so young, so beautiful, so early lost!''

  ``Troth ye may say sae---she's in a manner lost, body and saul; forby being a Papist, I'se uphaud her for''---and his northern caution prevailed, and he was again silent.

  ``For what, sir?'' said I sternly. ``I insist on knowing the plain meaning of all this.''

  ``On, just for the bitterest Jacobite in the haill shire.''

  ``Pshaw! a Jacobite?---is that all?''

  Andrew looked at me with some astonishment, at hearing his information treated so lightly; and then muttering, ``Aweel, it's the warst thing I ken aboot the lassie, howsoe'er,'' he resumed his spade, like the king of the Vandals, in Marmontel's late novel.

  CHAPTER SEVENTH.

  Bardolph.---The sheriff, with a monstrous watch, is at the door. Henry IV. First Part.

  I found out with some difficulty the apartment which was destined for my accommodation; and having secured myself the necessary good-will and attention from my uncle's domestics, by using the means they were most capable of comprehending, I secluded myself there for the remainder of the evening, conjecturing, from the fair way in which I had left my new relatives, as well as from the distant noise which continued to echo from the stone-hall (as their banqueting-room was called), that they were not likely to be fitting company for a sober man.

  ``What could my father mean by sending me to be an inmate in this strange family?'' was my first and most natural reflection. My uncle, it was plain, received me as one who was to make some stay with him, and his rude hospitality rendered him as indifferent as King Hal to the number of those who fed at his cost. But it was plain my presence or absence would be of as little importance in his eyes as that of one of his blue-coated serving-men. My cousins were mere cubs, in whose company I might, if I liked it, unlearn whatever decent manners, or elegant accomplishments, I had acquired, but where I could attain no information beyond what regarded worming dogs, rowelling horses, and following foxes. I could only imagine one reason, which was probably the true one. My father considered the life which was led at Osbaldistone Hall as the natural and inevitable pursuits of all country gentlemen, and he was desirous, by giving me an opportunity of seeing that with which he knew I should be disgusted, to reconcile me, if possible, to take an active share in his own business. In the meantime, he would take Rashleigh Osbaldistone into the counting-house. Bu
t he had an hundred modes of providing for him, and that advantageously, whenever he chose to get rid of him. So that, although I did feel a certain qualm of conscience at having been the means of introducing Rashleigh, being such as he was described by Miss Vernon, into my father's business---perhaps into his confidence---I subdued it by the reflection that my father was complete master of his own affairs---a man not to be imposed upon, or influenced by any one ---and that all I knew to the young gentleman's prejudice was through the medium of a singular and giddy girl, whose communications were made with an injudicious frankness, which might warrant me in supposing her conclusions had been hastily or inaccurately formed. Then my mind naturally turned to Miss Vernon herself; her extreme beauty; her very peculiar situation, relying solely upon her reflections, and her own spirit, for guidance and protection; and her whole character offering that variety and spirit which piques our curiosity, and engages our attention in spite of ourselves. I had sense enough to consider the neighbourhood of this singular young lady, and the chance of our being thrown into very close and frequent intercourse, as adding to the dangers, while it relieved the dulness, of Osbaldistone Hall; but I could not, with the fullest exertion of my prudence, prevail upon myself to regret excessively this new and particular hazard to which I was to be exposed. This scruple I also settled as young men settle most difficulties of the kind--- I would be very cautious, always on my guard, consider Miss Vernon rather as a companion than an intimate; and all would do well enough. With these reflections I fell asleep, Miss Vernon, of course, forming the last subject of my contemplation.

  Whether I dreamed of her or not, I cannot satisfy you, for I was tired and slept soundly. But she was the first person I thought of in the morning, when waked at dawn by the cheerful notes of the hunting horn. To start up, and direct my horse to be saddled, was my first movement; and in a few minutes I was in the court-yard, where men, dogs, and horses, were in full preparation. My uncle, who, perhaps, was not entitled to expect a very alert sportsman in his nephew, bred as he had been in foreign parts, seemed rather surprised to see me, and I thought his morning salutation wanted something of the hearty and hospitable tone which distinguished his first welcome. ``Art there, lad?---ay, youth's aye rathe---but look to thysell---mind the old song, lad---

  He that gallops his horse on Blackstone edge May chance to catch a fall.''

  I believe there are few young men, and those very sturdy moralists, who would not rather be taxed with some moral peccadillo than with want of knowledge in horsemanship. As I was by no means deficient either in skill or courage, I resented my uncle's insinuation accordingly, and assured him he would find me up with the hounds.

  ``I doubtna, lad,'' was his reply; ``thou'rt a rank rider, I'se warrant thee---but take heed. Thy father sent thee here to me to be bitted, and I doubt I must ride thee on the curb, or we'll hae some one to ride thee on the halter, if I takena the better heed.''

  As this speech was totally unintelligible to me---as, besides, it did not seem to be delivered for my use, or benefit, but was spoken as it were aside, and as if expressing aloud something which was passing through the mind of my much-honoured uncle, I concluded it must either refer to my desertion of the bottle on the preceding evening, or that my uncle's morning hours being a little discomposed by the revels of the night before, his temper had suffered in proportion. I only made the passing reflection, that if he played the ungracious landlord, I would remain the shorter while his guest, and then hastened to salute Miss Vernon, who advanced cordially to meet me. Some show of greeting also passed between my cousins and me; but as I saw them maliciously bent upon criticising my dress and accoutrements, from the cap to the stirrup-irons, and sneering at whatever had a new or foreign appearance, I exempted myself from the task of paying them much attention; and assuming, in requital of their grins and whispers, an air of the utmost indifference and contempt, I attached myself to Miss Vernon, as the only person in the party whom I could regard as a suitable companion. By her side, therefore, we sallied forth to the destined cover, which was a dingle or copse on the side of an extensive common. As we rode thither, I observed to Diana, ``that I did not see my cousin Rashleigh in the field;'' to which she replied,---``O no---he's a mighty hunter, but it's after the fashion of Nimrod, and his game is man.''

  The dogs now brushed into the cover, with the appropriate encouragement from the hunters---all was business, bustle, and activity. My cousins were soon too much interested in the business of the morning to take any further notice of me, unless that I overheard Dickon the horse-jockey whisper to Wilfred the fool---``Look thou, an our French cousin be nat off a' first burst.''

  To which Wilfred answered, ``Like enow, for he has a queer outlandish binding on's castor.''

  Thorncliff, however, who in his rude way seemed not absolutely insensible to the beauty of his kinswoman, appeared determined to keep us company more closely than his brothers, ---perhaps to watch what passed betwixt Miss Vernon and me--- perhaps to enjoy my expected mishaps in the chase. In the last particular he was disappointed. After beating in vain for the greater part of the morning, a fox was at length found, who led us a chase of two hours, in the course of which, notwithstanding the ill-omened French binding upon my hat, I sustained my character as a horseman to the admiration of my uncle and Miss Vernon, and the secret disappointment of those who expected me to disgrace it. Reynard, however, proved too wily for his pursuers, and the hounds were at fault. I could at this time observe in Miss Vernon's manner an impatience of the close attendance which we received from Thorncliff Osbaldistone; and, as that active-spirited young lady never hesitated at taking the readiest means to gratify any wish of the moment, she said to him, in a tone of reproach---``I wonder, Thornie, what keeps you dangling at my horse's crupper all this morning, when you know the earths above Woolverton-mill are not stopt.''

  ``I know no such an thing then, Miss Die, for the miller swore himself as black as night, that he stopt them at twelve o'clock midnight that was.''

  ``O fie upon you, Thornie! would you trust to a miller's word?---and these earths, too, where we lost the fox three times this season! and you on your grey mare, that can gallop there and back in ten minutes!''

  ``Well, Miss Die, I'se go to Woolverton then, and if the earths are not stopt, I'se raddle Dick the miller's bones for him.''

  ``Do, my dear Thornie; horsewhip the rascal to purpose--- via---fly away, and about it;''---Thorncliff went off at the gallop---``or get horsewhipt yourself, which will serve my purpose just as well.---I must teach them all discipline and obedience to the word of command. I am raising a regiment, you must know. Thornie shall be my sergeant-major, Dickon my riding-master, and Wilfred, with his deep dub-a-dub tones, that speak but three syllables at a time, my kettle-drummer.''

  ``And Rashleigh?''

  ``Rashleigh shall be my scout-master.'' ``And will you find no employment for me, most lovely colonel?''

  ``You shall have the choice of being pay-master, or plunder-master, to the corps. But see how the dogs puzzle about there. Come, Mr. Frank, the scent's cold; they won't recover it there this while; follow me, I have a view to show you.''

  And in fact, she cantered up to the top of a gentle hill, commanding an extensive prospect. Casting her eyes around, to see that no one was near us, she drew up her horse beneath a few birch-trees, which screened us from the rest of the hunting-field--- ``Do you see yon peaked, brown, heathy hill, having something like a whitish speck upon the side?''

  ``Terminating that long ridge of broken moorish uplands?--- I see it distinctly.''

  ``That whitish speck is a rock called Hawkesmore-crag, and Hawkesmore-crag is in Scotland.''

  ``Indeed! I did not think we had been so near Scotland.''

  ``It is so, I assure you, and your horse will carry you there in two hours.''

  ``I shall hardly give him the trouble; why, the distance must be eighteen miles as the crow flies.''

  ``You may have my mare, if you think her less blown---I sa
y, that in two hours you may be in Scotland.''

  ``And I say, that I have so little desire to be there, that if my horse's head were over the Border, I would not give his tail the trouble of following. What should I do in Scotland?''

  ``Provide for your safety, if I must speak plainly. Do you understand me now, Mr. Frank?''

  ``Not a whit; you are more and more oracular.''

  ``Then, on my word, you either mistrust me most unjustly, and are a better dissembler than Rashleigh Osbaldistone himself, or you know nothing of what is imputed to you; and then no wonder you stare at me in that grave manner, which I can scarce see without laughing.''

  ``Upon my word of honour, Miss Vernon,'' said I, with an impatient feeling of her childish disposition to mirth, ``I have not the most distant conception of what you mean. I am happy to afford you any subject of amusement, but I am quite ignorant in what it consists.''

  ``Nay, there's no sound jest after all,'' said the young lady, composing herself; ``only one looks so very ridiculous when he is fairly perplexed. But the matter is serious enough. Do you know one Moray, or Morris, or some such name?''

  ``Not that I can at present recollect.''

  ``Think a moment. Did you not lately travel with somebody of such a name?''

  ``The only man with whom I travelled for any length of time was a fellow whose soul seemed to lie in his portmanteau.''

  ``Then it was like the soul of the licentiate Pedro Garcias, which lay among the ducats in his leathern purse. That man has been robbed, and he has lodged an information against you, as connected with the violence done to him.''

  ``You jest, Miss Vernon!''

  ``I do not, I assure you---the thing is an absolute fact.''

  ``And do you,'' said I, with strong indignation, which I did not attempt to suppress, ``do you suppose me capable of meriting such a charge?''