Rob Roy

by Walter Dill Scott

  ``You would call me out for it, I suppose, had I the advantage of being a man---You may do so as it is, if you like it---I can shoot flying, as well as leap a five-barred gate.''

  ``And are colonel of a regiment of horse besides,'' replied I, reflecting how idle it was to be angry with her---``But do explain the present jest to me.''

  ``There's no jest whatever,'' said Diana; ``you are accused of robbing this man, and my uncle believes it as well as I did.''

  ``Upon my honour, I am greatly obliged to my friends for their good opinion!''

  ``Now do not, if you can help it, snort, and stare, and snuff the wind, and look so exceedingly like a startled horse---There's no such offence as you suppose---you are not charged with any petty larceny or vulgar felony---by no means. This fellow was carrying money from Government, both specie and bills, to pay the troops in the north; and it is said he has been also robbed of some despatches of great consequence.''

  ``And so it is high treason, then, and not simple robbery, of which I am accused!''

  ``Certainly---which, you know, has been in all ages accounted the crime of a gentleman. You will find plenty in this country, and one not far from your elbow, who think it a merit to distress the Hanoverian government by every means possible.''

  ``Neither my politics nor my morals, Miss Vernon, are of a description so accommodating.''

  ``I really begin to believe that you are a Presbyterian and Hanoverian in good earnest. But what do you propose to do?''

  ``Instantly to refute this atrocious calumny.---Before whom,'' I asked, ``was this extraordinary accusation laid.''

  ``Before old Squire Inglewood, who had sufficient unwillingness to receive it. He sent tidings to my uncle, I suppose, that he might smuggle you away into Scotland, out of reach of the warrant. But my uncle is sensible that his religion and old predilections render him obnoxious to Government, and that, were he caught playing booty, he would be disarmed, and probably dismounted (which would be the worse evil of the two), as a Jacobite, papist, and suspected person.''*

  * On occasions of public alarm, in the beginning of the eighteenth century, * the horses of the Catholics were often seized upon, as they were * always supposed to be on the eve of rising in rebellion.

  ``I can conceive that, sooner than lose his hunters, he would give up his nephew.''

  ``His nephew, nieces, sons---daughters, if he had them, and whole generation,'' said Diana;---``therefore trust not to him, even for a single moment, but make the best of your way before they can serve the warrant.''

  ``That I shall certainly do; but it shall be to the house of this Squire Inglewood---Which way does it lie?''

  ``About five miles off, in the low ground, behind yonder plantations---you may see the tower of the clock-house.''

  ``I will be there in a few minutes,'' said I, putting my horse in motion.

  ``And I will go with you, and show you the way,'' said Diana, putting her palfrey also to the trot.

  ``Do not think of it, Miss Vernon,'' I replied. ``It is not--- permit me the freedom of a friend---it is not proper, scarcely even delicate, in you to go with me on such an errand as I am now upon.''

  ``I understand your meaning,'' said Miss Vernon, a slight blush crossing her haughty brow;---``it is plainly spoken;'' and after a moment's pause she added, ``and I believe kindly meant.''

  ``It is indeed, Miss Vernon. Can you think me insensible of the interest you show me, or ungrateful for it?'' said I, with even more earnestness than I could have wished to express. ``Yours is meant for true kindness, shown best at the hour of need. But I must not, for your own sake---for the chance of misconstruction---suffer you to pursue the dictates of your generosity; this is so public an occasion---it is almost like venturing into an open court of justice.''

  ``And if it were not almost, but altogether entering into an open court of justice, do you think I would not go there if I thought it right, and wished to protect a friend? You have no one to stand by you---you are a stranger; and here, in the outskirts of the kingdom, country justices do odd things. My uncle has no desire to embroil himself in your affair; Rashleigh is absent, and were he here, there is no knowing which side he might take; the rest are all more stupid and brutal one than another. I will go with you, and I do not fear being able to serve you. I am no fine lady, to be terrified to death with law-books, hard words, or big wigs.''

  ``But my dear Miss Vernon''------

  ``But my dear Mr. Francis, be patient and quiet, and let me take my own way; for when I take the bit between my teeth, there is no bridle will stop me.''

  Flattered with the interest so lovely a creature seemed to take in my fate, yet vexed at the ridiculous appearance I should make, by carrying a girl of eighteen along with me as an advocate, and seriously concerned for the misconstruction to which her motives might be exposed, I endeavoured to combat her resolution to accompany me to Squire Inglewood's. The self-willed girl told me roundly, that my dissuasions were absolutely in vain; that she was a true Vernon, whom no consideration, not even that of being able to do but little to assist him, should induce to abandon a friend in distress; and that all I could say on the subject might be very well for pretty, well-educated, well-behaved misses from a town boarding-school, but did not apply to her, who was accustomed to mind nobody's opinion but her own.

  While she spoke thus, we were advancing hastily towards Inglewood Place, while, as if to divert me from the task of further remonstrance, she drew a ludicrous picture of the magistrate and his clerk.---Inglewood was---according to her description--- a white-washed Jacobite; that is, one who, having been long a non-juror, like most of the other gentlemen of the country, had lately qualified himself to act as a justice, by taking the oaths to Government. ``He had done so,'' she said, ``in compliance with the urgent request of most of his brother squires, who saw, with regret, that the palladium of silvan sport, the game-laws, were likely to fall into disuse for want of a magistrate who would enforce them; the nearest acting justice being the Mayor of Newcastle, and he, as being rather inclined to the consumption of the game when properly dressed, than to its preservation when alive, was more partial, of course, to the cause of the poacher than of the sportsman. Resolving, therefore, that it was expedient some one of their number should sacrifice the scruples of Jacobitical loyalty to the good of the community, the Northumbrian country gentlemen imposed the duty on Inglewood, who, being very inert in most of his feelings and sentiments, might, they thought, comply with any political creed without much repugnance. Having thus procured the body of justice, they proceeded,'' continued Miss Vernon, ``to attach to it a clerk, by way of soul, to direct and animate its movements. Accordingly they got a sharp Newcastle attorney, called Jobson, who, to vary my metaphor, finds it a good thing enough to retail justice at the sign of Squire Inglewood, and, as his own emoluments depend on the quantity of business which he transacts, he hooks in his principal for a great deal more employment in the justice line than the honest squire had ever bargained for; so that no apple-wife within the circuit of ten miles can settle her account with a costermonger without an audience of the reluctant Justice and his alert clerk, Mr. Joseph Jobson. But the most ridiculous scenes occur when affairs come before him, like our business of to-day, having any colouring of politics. Mr. Joseph Jobson (for which, no doubt, he has his own very sufficient reasons) is a prodigious zealot for the Protestant religion, and a great friend to the present establishment in church and state. Now, his principal, retaining a sort of instinctive attachment to the opinions which he professed openly until he relaxed his political creed with the patriotic view of enforcing the law against unauthorized destroyers of black-game, grouse, partridges, and hares, is peculiarly embarrassed when the zeal of his assistant involves him in judicial proceedings connected with his earlier faith; and, instead of seconding his zeal, he seldom fails to oppose to it a double dose of indolence and lack of exertion. And this inactivity does not by any means arise from actual stupidity. On the contrary, for one whose
principal delight is in eating and drinking, he is an alert, joyous, and lively old soul, which makes his assumed dulness the more diverting. So you may see Jobson on such occasions, like a bit of a broken down blood-tit condemned to drag an overloaded cart, puffing, strutting, and spluttering, to get the Justice put in motion, while, though the wheels groan, creak, and revolve slowly, the great and preponderating weight of the vehicle fairly frustrates the efforts of the willing quadruped, and prevents its being brought into a state of actual progression. Nay more, the unfortunate pony, I understand, has been heard to complain that this same car of justice, which he finds it so hard to put in motion on some occasions, can on others run fast enough down hill of its own accord, dragging his reluctant self backwards along with it, when anything can be done of service to Squire Inglewood's quondam friends. And then Mr. Jobson talks big about reporting his principal to the Secretary of State for the Home Department, if it were not for his particular regard and friendship for Mr. Inglewood and his family.''

  As Miss Vernon concluded this whimsical description, we found ourselves in front of Inglewood Place, a handsome, though old-fashioned building. which showed the consequence of the family.

  CHAPTER EIGHTH.

  ``Sir,'' quoth the Lawyer, ``not to flatter ye, You have as good and fair a battery As heart could wish, and need not shame The proudest man alive to claim.'' Butler.

  Our horses were taken by a servant in Sir Hildebrand's livery, whom we found in the court-yard, and we entered the house. In the entrance-hall I was somewhat surprised, and my fair companion still more so, when we met Rashleigh Osbaldistone, who could not help showing equal wonder at our rencontre.

  ``Rashleigh,'' said Miss Vernon, without giving him time to ask any question, ``you have heard of Mr. Francis Osbaldistone's affair, and you have been talking to the Justice about it?''

  ``Certainly,'' said Rashleigh, composedly---``it has been my business here.---I have been endeavouring,'' he said, with a bow to me, ``to render my cousin what service I can. But I am sorry to meet him here.''

  ``As a friend and relation, Mr. Osbaldistone, you ought to have been sorry to have met me anywhere else, at a time when the charge of my reputation required me to be on this spot as soon as possible.''

  ``True; but judging from what my father said, I should have supposed a short retreat into Scotland---just till matters should be smoothed over in a quiet way''------

  I answered with warmth, ``That I had no prudential measures to observe, and desired to have nothing smoothed over;--- on the contrary, I was come to inquire into a rascally calumny, which I was determined to probe to the bottom.''

  ``Mr. Francis Osbaldistone is an innocent man, Rashleigh,'' said Miss Vernon, ``and he demands an investigation of the charge against him, and I intend to support him in it.''

  ``You do, my pretty cousin?---I should think, now, Mr. Francis Osbaldistone was likely to be as effectually, and rather more delicately, supported by my presence than by yours.''

  ``Oh, certainly; but two heads are better than one, you know.''

  ``Especially such a head as yours, my pretty Die,'' advancing and taking her hand with a familiar fondness, which made me think him fifty times uglier than nature had made him. She led him, however, a few steps aside; they conversed in an under voice, and she appeared to insist upon some request which he was unwilling or unable to comply with. I never saw so strong a contrast betwixt the expression of two faces. Miss Vernon's, from being earnest, became angry; her eyes and cheeks became more animated, her colour mounted, she clenched her little hand, and stamping on the ground with her tiny foot, seemed to listen with a mixture of contempt and indignation to the apologies, which, from his look of civil deference, his composed and respectful smile, his body rather drawing back than advanced, and other signs of look and person, I concluded him to be pouring out at her feet. At length she flung away from him, with ``I will have it so.''

  ``It is not in my power---there is no possibility of it.---Would you think it, Mr. Osbaldistone?'' said he, addressing me---

  ``You are not mad?'' said she, interrupting him.

  ``Would you think it?'' said he, without attending to her hint---``Miss Vernon insists, not only that I know your innocence (of which, indeed, it is impossible for any one to be more convinced), but that I must also be acquainted with the real perpetrators of the outrage on this fellow---if indeed such an outrage has been committed. Is this reasonable, Mr. Osbaldistone?''

  ``I will not allow any appeal to Mr. Osbaldistone, Rashleigh,'' said the young lady; ``he does not know, as I do, the incredible extent and accuracy of your information on all points.''

  ``As I am a gentleman, you do me more honour than I deserve.''

  ``Justice, Rashleigh---only justice:---and it is only justice which I expect at your hands.''

  ``You are a tyrant, Diana,'' he answered, with a sort of sigh ---``a capricious tyrant, and rule your friends with a rod of iron. Still, however, it shall be as you desire. But you ought not to be here---you know you ought not;---you must return with me.''

  Then turning from Diana, who seemed to stand undecided, he came up to me in the most friendly manner, and said, ``Do not doubt my interest in what regards you, Mr. Osbaldistone. If I leave you just at this moment, it is only to act for your advantage. But you must use your influence with your cousin to return; her presence cannot serve you, and must prejudice herself.''

  ``I assure you, sir,'' I replied, ``you cannot be more convinced of this than I; I have urged Miss Vernon's return as anxiously as she would permit me to do.''

  ``I have thought on it,'' said Miss Vernon after a pause, ``and I will not go till I see you safe out of the hands of the Philistines. Cousin Rashleigh, I dare say, means well; but he and I know each other well. Rashleigh, I will not go;---I know,'' she added, in a more soothing tone, ``my being here will give you more motive for speed and exertion.''

  ``Stay then, rash, obstinate girl,'' said Rashleigh; ``you know but too well to whom you trust;'' and hastening out of the hall, we heard his horse's feet a minute afterwards in rapid motion.

  ``Thank Heaven he is gone!'' said Diana. ``And now let us seek out the Justice.''

  ``Had we not better call a servant?''

  ``Oh, by no means; I know the way to his den---we must burst on him suddenly---follow me.''

  I did follow her accordingly, as she tripped up a few gloomy steps, traversed a twilight passage, and entered a sort of ante-room, hung round with old maps, architectural elevations, and genealogical trees. A pair of folding-doors opened from this into Mr. Inglewood's sitting apartment, from which was heard the fag-end of an old ditty, chanted by a voice which had been in its day fit for a jolly bottle-song.

  ``O, in Skipton-in-Craven Is never a haven, But many a day foul weather; And he that would say A pretty girl nay, I wish for his cravat a tether.''

  ``Heyday!'' said Miss Vernon, ``the genial Justice must have dined already---I did not think it had been so late.''

  It was even so. Mr. Inglewood's appetite having been sharpened by his official investigations, he had antedated his meridian repast, having dined at twelve instead of one o'clock, then the general dining hour in England. The various occurrences of the morning occasioned our arriving some time after this hour, to the Justice the most important of the four-and-twenty, and he had not neglected the interval.

  ``Stay you here,'' said Diana. ``I know the house, and I will call a servant; your sudden appearance might startle the old gentleman even to choking;'' and she escaped from me, leaving me uncertain whether I ought to advance or retreat. It was impossible for me not to hear some part of what passed within the dinner apartment, and particularly several apologies for declining to sing, expressed in a dejected croaking voice, the tones of which, I conceived, were not entirely new to me.

  ``Not sing, sir? by our Lady! but you must---What! you have cracked my silver-mounted cocoa-nut of sack, and tell me that you cannot sing!---Sir, sack will make a cat sing, and speak too; so up with a merry s
tave, or trundle yourself out of my doors!---Do you think you are to take up all my valuable time with your d-d declarations, and then tell me you cannot sing?''

  ``Your worship is perfectly in rule,'' said another voice, which, from its pert conceited accent, might be that of the cleric, ``and the party must be conformable; he hath canet written on his face in court hand.''

  ``Up with it then,'' said the Justice, ``or by St. Christopher, you shall crack the cocoa-nut full of salt-and-water, according to the statute for such effect made and provided.''

  Thus exhorted and threatened, my quondam fellow-traveller, for I could no longer doubt that he was the recusant in question, uplifted, with a voice similar to that of a criminal singing his last psalm on the scaffold, a most doleful stave to the following effect:---

  ``Good people all, I pray give ear, A woeful story you shall hear, 'Tis of a robber as stout as ever Bade a true man stand and deliver. With his foodle doo fa loodle loo.

  ``This knave, most worthy of a cord, Being armed with pistol and with sword, 'Twixt Kensington and Brentford then Did boldly stop six honest men. With his foodle doo, etc.

  ``These honest men did at Brentford dine, Having drank each man his pint of wine, When this bold thief, with many curses, Did say, You dogs, your lives or purses. With his foodle doo,'' etc.

  I question if the honest men, whose misfortune is commemorated in this pathetic ditty, were more startled at the appearance of the bold thief than the songster was at mine; for, tired of waiting for some one to announce me, and finding my situation as a listener rather awkward, I presented myself to the company just as my friend Mr. Morris, for such, it seems, was his name, was uplifting the fifth stave of his doleful ballad. The high tone with which the tune started died away in a quaver of consternation on finding himself so near one whose character he supposed to be little less suspicious than that of the hero of his madrigal, and he remained silent, with a mouth gaping as if I had brought the Gorgon's head in my hand.