David Balfour

by Robert Louis Stevenson

  CHAPTER XIX

  I AM MUCH IN THE HANDS OF THE LADIES

  The copying was a weary business, the more so as I perceived very earlythere was no sort of urgency in the matters treated, and began veryearly to consider my employment a pretext. I had no sooner finished,than I got to horse, used what remained of daylight to the best purpose,and being at last fairly benighted, slept in a house by Almond-Waterside. I was in the saddle again before the day, and the Edinburgh boothswere just opening when I clattered in by the West Bow and drew up asmoking horse at my lord Advocate's door. I had a written word for Doig,my lord's private hand that was thought to be in all his secrets, aworthy, little plain man, all fat and snuff and self-sufficiency. Him Ifound already at his desk and already bedabbled with maccabaw, in thesame anteroom where I rencountered with James More. He read the notescrupulously through like a chapter in his Bible.

  "H'm," says he, "ye come a wee thing ahint-hand, Mr. Balfour. The bird'sflaen, we hae letten her out."

  "Miss Drummond is set free?" I cried.

  "Achy!" said he. "What would we keep her for, ye ken? To hae made asteer about the bairn would hae pleased naebody."

  "And where'll she be now?" says I.

  "Gude kens!" says Doig, with a shrug.

  "She'll have gone home to Lady Allardyce, I'm thinking," said I.

  "That'll be it," said he.

  "Then I'll gang there straight," says I.

  "But ye'll be for a bite or ye go?" said he.

  "Neither bite nor sup," said I. "I had a good waucht of milk in byRatho."

  "Aweel, aweel," says Doig. "But ye'll can leave your horse here and yourbags, for it seems we're to have your up-put."

  "Na, na," said I. "Tamson's mear[17] would never be the thing for me,this day of all days."

  Doig speaking somewhat broad, I had been led by imitation into an accentmuch more countrified than I was usually careful to affect, a good dealbroader indeed than I have written it down; and I was the more ashamedwhen another voice joined in behind me with a scrap of a ballad:

  "Gae saddle me the bonny black, Gae saddle sune and mak' him ready, For I will down the Gatehope-slack, And a' to see my bonny leddy."

  The young lady, when I turned to her, stood in a morning gown, and herhands muffled in the same, as if to hold me at a distance. Yet I couldnot but think there was kindness in the eye with which she saw me.

  "My best respects to you, Mistress Grant," said I bowing.

  "The like to yourself, Mr. David," she replied, with a deep courtesy,"And I beg to remind you of an old musty saw, that meat and mass neverhindered man. The mass I cannot afford you, for we are all goodProtestants. But the meat I press on your attention. And I would notwonder but I could find something for your private ear that would beworth the stopping for."

  "Mistress Grant," said I, "I believe I am already your debtor for somemerry words--and I think they were kind too--on a piece of unsignedpaper."

  "Unsigned paper?" says she, and made a droll face, which was likewisewondrous beautiful, as of one trying to remember.

  "Or else I am the more deceived," I went on. "But to be sure, we shallhave the time to speak of these, since your father is so good as to makeme for a while your inmate; and the _gomeral_ begs you at this time onlyfor the favour of his liberty."

  "You give yourself hard names," said she.

  "Mr. Doig and I would be blythe to take harder at your clever pen," saysI.

  "Once more I have to admire the discretion of all men-folk," shereplied. "But if you will not eat, off with you at once; you will beback the sooner, for you go on a fool's errand. Off with you, Mr.David," she continued, opening the door.

  "He has lowpen on his bonny grey, He rade the richt gate and the ready; I trow he would neither stint nor stay, Far he was seeking his bonny leddy."

  I did not wait to be twice bidden, and did justice to Miss Grant'scitation on the way to Dean.

  Old Lady Allardyce walked there alone in the garden, in her hat andmutch, and having a silver-mounted staff of some black wood to leanupon. As I alighted from my horse, and drew near to her with _congees_,I could see the blood come in her face, and her head fling into the airlike what I had conceived of empresses.

  "What brings you to my poor door?" she cried, speaking high through hernose. "I cannot bar it. The males of my house are dead and buried; Ihave neither son nor husband to stand in the gate for me; any beggar canpluck me by the baird[18]--and a baird there is, and that's the worst ofit yet!" she added, partly to herself.

  I was extremely put out at this reception, and the last remark, whichseemed like a daft wife's, left me near hand speechless.

  "I see I have fallen under your displeasure, ma'am," said I. "Yet I willstill be so bold as ask after Mistress Drummond."

  She considered me with a burning eye, her lips pressed close togetherinto twenty creases, her hand shaking on her staff. "This cows all!" shecried. "Ye come to me to spier for her! Would God I knew!"

  "She is not here?" I cried.

  She threw up her chin and made a step and a cry at me, so that I fellback incontinent.

  "Out upon your leeing throat!" she cried. "What! ye come and spier atme! She's in jyle, whaur ye took her to--that's all there is to it. Andof a' the beings ever I beheld in breeks, to think it should be you! Yetimmer scoun'rel, if I had a male left to my name I would have yourjaicket dustit till ye raired."

  I thought it not good to delay longer in that place because I remarkedher passion to be rising. As I turned to the horse-post she evenfollowed me; and I make no shame to confess that I rode away with theone stirrup on and scrambling for the other.

  As I knew no other quarter where I could push my inquiries, there wasnothing left me but to return to the Advocate's. I was well received bythe four ladies, who were now in company together, and must give thenews of Prestongrange and what word went in the west country, at themost inordinate length and with great weariness to myself; while all thetime that young lady, with whom I so much desired to be alone again,observed me quizzically and seemed to find pleasure in the sight of myimpatience. At last, after I had endured a meal with them, and was comevery near the point of appealing for an interview before her aunt, shewent and stood by the music case, and picking out a tune, sang to it ona high key--"He that will not when he may, When he will he shall havenay." But this was the end of her rigours, and presently, after makingsome excuse of which I have no mind, she carried me away in private toher father's library. I should not fail to say that she was dressed tothe nines, and appeared extraordinary handsome.

  "Now, Mr. David, sit ye down here and let us have a two-handed crack,"said she. "For I have much to tell you, and it appears besides that Ihave been grossly unjust to your good taste."

  "In what manner, Mistress Grant?" I asked. "I trust I have never seemedto fail in due respect."

  "I will be your surety, Mr. David," said she. "Your respect, whether toyourself or your poor neighbours, has been always and most fortunatelybeyond imitation. But that is by the question. You got a note from me?"she asked.

  "I was so bold as to suppose so upon inference," said I, "and it waskindly thought upon."

  "It must have prodigiously surprised you," said she. "But let us beginwith the beginning. You have not perhaps forgot a day when you were sokind as to escort three very tedious misses to Hope Park? I have theless cause to forget it myself, because you was so particular obligingas to introduce me to some of the principles of the Latin grammar, athing which wrote itself profoundly on my gratitude."

  "I fear I was sadly pedantical," said I, overcome with confusion at thememory. "You are only to consider I am quite unused with the society ofladies."

  "I will say the less about the grammar then," she replied. "But how cameyou to desert your charge? 'He has thrown her out, overboard, his aindear Annie!'" she hummed; "and his ain dear Annie and her two sistershad to taigle home by theirselves like a string of green geese! It seemsyou returned to my papa's
, where you showed yourself excessivelymartial, and then on to realms unknown, with an eye (it appears) to theBass Rock; solan geese being perhaps more to your mind than bonnylasses."

  Through all this raillery there was something indulgent in the lady'seye which made me suppose there might be better coming.

  "You take a pleasure to torment me," said I, "and I make a very fecklessplaything; but let me ask you to be more merciful. At this time there isbut the one thing that I care to hear of, and that will be news ofCatriona."

  "Do you call her by that name to her face, Mr. Balfour?" she asked.

  "In troth, and I am not very sure," I stammered.

  "I would not do so in any case to strangers," said Miss Grant. "And whyare you so much immersed in the affairs of this young lady?"

  "I heard she was in prison," said I.

  "Well, and now you hear that she is out of it," she replied, "and whatmore would you have? She has no need of any further champion."

  "I may have the greater need of her, ma'am," said I.

  "Come, this is better!" says Miss Grant. "But look me fairly in theface; am I not bonnier than she?"

  "I would be the last to be denying it," said I. "There is not yourmarrow in all Scotland."

  "Well, here you have the pick of the two at your hand, and must needsspeak of the other," said she. "This is never the way to please theladies, Mr. Balfour."

  "But, mistress," said I, "there are surely other things besides merebeauty."

  "By which I am to understand that I am no better than I should be,perhaps?" she asked.

  "By which you will please understand that I am like the cock in themidden in the fable book," said I. "I see the braw jewel--and I likefine to see it too--but I have more need of the pickle corn."

  "Bravissimo!" she cried. "There is a word well said at last, and I willreward you for it with my story. That same night of your desertion Icame late from a friend's house--where I was excessively admired,whatever you may think of it--and what should I hear but that a lass ina tartan screen desired to speak with me? She had been there an hour orbetter, said the servant-lass, and she grat in to herself as she satwaiting. I went to her direct; she rose as I came in, and I knew her ata look. '_Grey Eyes!_' says I to myself, but was more wise than to leton. _You will be Miss Grant at last?_ she says, rising and looking at mehard and pitiful. _Ay, it was true he said, you are bonny at allevents.--The way God made me, my dear_, I said, _but I would be gey andobliged if ye could tell me what brought you here at such a time of thenight--Lady_, she said, _we are kinsfolk, we are both come of the bloodof the sons of Alpin.--My dear_, I replied, _I think no more of Alpin orhis sons than what I do of a kale-stock. You have a better argument inthese tears upon your bonny face_. And at that I was so weakminded as tokiss her, which is what you would like to do dearly, and I wager willnever find the courage of. I say it was weakminded of me, for I knew nomore of her than the outside; but it was the wisest stroke I could havehit upon. She is a very staunch, brave nature, but I think she has beenlittle used with tenderness; and at that caress (though to say thetruth, it was but lightly given) her heart went out to me. I will neverbetray the secrets of my sex, Mr. Davie; I will never tell you the wayshe turned me round her thumb, because it is the same she will use totwist yourself. Ay, it is a fine lass! She is as clean as hill wellwater."

  "She is e'en't!" I cried.

  "Well, then, she told me her concerns," pursued Miss Grant, "and in whata swither she was in about her papa, and what a taking about yourself,with very little cause, and in what a perplexity she had found herselfafter you was gone away. _And then I minded at long last,_ says she,_that we were kinswomen, and that Mr. David should have given you thename of the bonniest of the bonny, and I was thinking to myself 'If sheis so bonny she will be good at all events; and I took up my foot solesout of that_. That was when I forgave yourself, Mr. Davie. When you wasin my society, you seemed upon hot iron; by all marks, if ever I saw ayoung man that wanted to be gone, it was yourself, and I and my twosisters were the ladies you were so desirous to be gone from; and now itappeared you had given me some notice in the bygoing, and was so kind asto comment on my attractions! From that hour you may date ourfriendship, and I began to think with tenderness upon the Latingrammar."

  "You will have many hours to rally me in," said I, "and I think besidesyou do yourself injustice, I think it was Catriona turned your heart inmy direction, she is too simple to perceive as you do the stiffness ofher friend."

  "I would not like to wager upon that, Mr. David," said she. "The lasseshave clear eyes. But at least she is your friend entirely, as I was tosee. I carried her in to his lordship my papa; and his Advocacy, beingin a favourable stage of claret, was so good as to receive the pair ofus. _Here is Grey Eyes that you have been deaved with these days past_,said I, _she is come to prove that we spoke true, and I lay theprettiest lass in the three Lothians at your feet_--making a papisticalreservation of myself. She suited her action to my words; down she wentupon her knees to him--I would not like to swear but he saw two of her,which doubtless made her appeal the more irresistible, for you are all apack of Mahomedans--told him what had passed that night, and how she hadwithheld her father's man from following of you, and what a case she wasin about her father, and what a flutter for yourself; and begged withweeping for the lives of both of you (neither of which was in theslightest danger) till I vow I was proud of my sex because it was doneso pretty, and ashamed for it because of the smallness of the occasion.She had not gone far, I assure you, before the Advocate was whollysober, to see his inmost politics ravelled out by a young lass anddiscovered to the most unruly of his daughters. But we took him in hand,the pair of us, and brought that matter straight. Properly managed--andthat means managed by me--there is no one to compare with my papa."

  "He has been a good man to me," said I.

  "Well, he was a good man to Katrine, and I was there to see to it," saidshe.

  "And she pled for me!" said I.

  "She did that, and very movingly," said Miss Grant. "I would not like totell you what she said, I find you vain enough already."

  "God reward her for it!" cried I.

  "With Mr. David Balfour, I suppose?" says she.

  "You do me too much injustice at the last!" I cried. "I would tremble tothink of her in such hard hands. Do you think I would presume, becauseshe begged my life? She would do that for a new whelped puppy! I havehad more than that to set me up, if you but ken'd. She kissed that handof mine. Ay, but she did. And why? because she thought I was playing abrave part and might be going to my death. It was not for my sake, but Ineed not be telling that to you that cannot look at me without laughter.It was for the love of what she thought was bravery. I believe there isnone but me and poor Prince Charlie had that honour done them. Was thisnot to make a god of me? and do you not think my heart would quake whenI remember it?"

  "I do laugh at you a good deal, and a good deal more than is quitecivil," said she; "but I will tell you one thing: if you speak to herlike that, you have some glimmerings of a chance."

  "Me?" I cried, "I would never dare. I can speak to you, Miss Grant,because it's a matter of indifference what ye think of me. But her? nofear!" said I.

  "I think you have the largest feet in all broad Scotland," says she.

  "Troth, they are no very small," said I, looking down.

  "Ah, poor Catriona!" cried Miss Grant.

  And I could but stare upon her; for though I now see very well what shewas driving at (and perhaps some justification for the same), I wasnever swift at the uptake in such flimsy talk.

  "Ah well, Mr. David," she said, "it goes sore against my conscience, butI see I shall have to be your speaking board. She shall know you came toher straight upon the news of her imprisonment; she shall know you wouldnot pause to eat; and of your conversation she shall hear just so muchas I think convenient for a maid of her age and inexperience. Believeme, you will be in that way much better served than you could serveyourself, for I will keep th
e big feet out of the platter."

  "You know where she is, then?" I exclaimed.

  "That I do, Mr. David, and will never tell," said she.

  "Why that?" I asked.

  "Well," she said, "I am a good friend, as you will soon discover; andthe chief of those that I am a friend to is my papa. I assure you, youwill never heat nor melt me out of that, so you may spare me yoursheep's eyes; and adieu to your David-Balfourship for the now."

  "But there is yet one thing more," I cried. "There is one thing thatmust be stopped, being mere ruin to herself, and to me too."

  "Well," she said, "be brief, I have spent half the day on you already."

  "My Lady Allardyce believes," I began, "she supposes--she thinks that Iabducted her."

  The colour came into Miss Grant's face, so that at first I was quiteabashed to find her ear so delicate, till I bethought me she wasstruggling rather with mirth, a notion in which I was altogetherconfirmed by the shaking of her voice as she replied--

  "I will take up the defence of your reputation," said she. "You mayleave it in my hands."

  And with that she withdrew out of the library.

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