The Heart of Mid-Lothian, Volume 2 Read online

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SECOND.

  Now butt and ben the change-house fills Wi' yill-caup commentators, Here's crying out for bakes and gills, And there the pint-stoup clatters. Wi' thick and thrang, and loud and lang,-- Wi' logic and wi' scripture, They raise a din that in the end Is like to breed a rupture, O' wrath that day. Burns.

  A plentiful entertainment, at the Duke of Argyle's cost, regaled thereverend gentlemen who had assisted at the ordination of Reuben Butler,and almost all the respectable part of the parish. The feast was, indeed,such as the country itself furnished; for plenty of all the requisitesfor "a rough and round dinner" were always at Duncan of Knock's command.There was the beef and mutton on the braes, the fresh and salt-water fishin the lochs, the brooks, and firth; game of every kind, from the deer tothe leveret, were to be had for the killing, in the Duke's forests,moors, heaths, and mosses; and for liquor, home-brewed ale flowed asfreely as water; brandy and usquebaugh both were had in those happy timeswithout duty; even white wine and claret were got for nothing, since theDuke's extensive rights of admiralty gave him a title to all the wine incask which is drifted ashore on the western coast and isles of Scotland,when shipping have suffered by severe weather. In short, as Duncanboasted, the entertainment did not cost MacCallummore a plack out of hissporran, and was nevertheless not only liberal, but overflowing.

  The Duke's health was solemnised in a _bona fide_ bumper, and David Deanshimself added perhaps the first huzza that his lungs had ever uttered, toswell the shout with which the pledge was received. Nay, so exalted inheart was he upon this memorable occasion, and so much disposed to beindulgent, that, he expressed no dissatisfaction when three bagpipersstruck up, "The Campbells are coming." The health of the reverendminister of Knocktarlitie was received with similar honours; and therewas a roar of laughter, when one of his brethren slily subjoined theaddition of, "A good wife to our brother, to keep the Manse in order." Onthis occasion David Deans was delivered of his first-born joke; andapparently the parturition was accompanied with many throes, for sorelydid he twist about his physiognomy, and much did he stumble in hisspeech, before he could express his idea, "That the lad being now weddedto his spiritual bride, it was hard to threaten him with ane temporalspouse in the same day." He then laughed a hoarse and brief laugh, andwas suddenly grave and silent, as if abashed at his own vivacious effort.

  After another toast or two, Jeanie, Mrs. Dolly, and such of the femalenatives as had honoured the feast with their presence, retired to David'snew dwelling at Auchingower, and left the gentlemen to their potations.

  The feast proceeded with great glee. The conversation, where Duncan hadit under his direction, was not indeed always strictly canonical, butDavid Deans escaped any risk of being scandalised, by engaging with oneof his neighbours in a recapitulation of the sufferings of Ayrshire andLanarkshire, during what was called the invasion of the Highland Host;the prudent Mr. Meiklehose cautioning them from time to time to lowertheir voices, "for that Duncan Knock's father had been at that onslaught,and brought back muckle gude plenishing, and that Duncan was no unlikelyto hae been there himself, for what he kend."

  Meanwhile, as the mirth grew fast and furious, the graver members of theparty began to escape as well as they could. David Deans accomplished hisretreat, and Butler anxiously watched an opportunity to follow him.Knockdunder, however, desirous, he said, of knowing what stuff was in thenew minister, had no intention to part with him so easily, but kept himpinned to his side, watching him sedulously, and with obliging violencefilling his glass to the brim, as often as he could seize an opportunityof doing so. At length, as the evening was wearing late, a venerablebrother chanced to ask Mr. Archibald when they might hope to see theDuke, _tam carum caput,_ as he would venture to term him, at the Lodge ofRoseneath. Duncan of Knock, whose ideas were somewhat conglomerated, andwho, it may be believed, was no great scholar, catching up some imperfectsound of the words, conceived the speaker was drawing a parallel betweenthe Duke and Sir Donald Gorme of Sleat; and being of opinion that suchcomparison was odious, snorted thrice, and prepared himself to be in apassion.

  To the explanation of the venerable divine the Captain answered, "I heardthe word Gorme myself, sir, with my ain ears. D'ye think I do not knowGaelic from Latin?"

  "Apparently not, sir;"--so the clergyman, offended in his turn, andtaking a pinch of snuff, answered with great coolness.

  The copper nose of the gracious Duncan now became heated like the Bull ofPhalaris, and while Mr. Archibald mediated betwixt the offended parties,and the attention of the company was engaged by their dispute, Butlertook an opportunity to effect his retreat.

  He found the females at Auchingower very anxious for the breaking up ofthe convivial party; for it was a part of the arrangement, that althoughDavid Deans was to remain at Auchingower, and Butler was that night totake possession of the Manse, yet Jeanie, for whom completeaccommodations were not yet provided in her father's house, was to returnfor a day or two to the Lodge at Roseneath, and the boats had been heldin readiness accordingly. They waited, therefore, for Knockdunder'sreturn, but twilight came, and they still waited in vain. At length Mr.Archibald, who was a man of decorum, had taken care not to exceed in hisconviviality, made his appearance, and advised the females strongly toreturn to the island under his escort; observing, that, from the humourin which he had left the Captain, it was a great chance whether he budgedout of the public-house that night, and it was absolutely certain that hewould not be very fit company for ladies. The gig was at their disposal,he said, and there was still pleasant twilight for a party on the water.

  Jeanie, who had considerable confidence in Archibald's prudence,immediately acquiesced in this proposal; but Mrs. Dolly positivelyobjected to the small boat. If the big boat could be gotten, she agreedto set out, otherwise she would sleep on the floor, rather than stir astep. Reasoning with Dolly was out of the question, and Archibald did notthink the difficulty so pressing as to require compulsion. He observed,it was not using the Captain very politely to deprive him of his coachand six; "but as it was in the ladies' service," he gallantly said, "hewould use so much freedom--besides the gig would serve the Captain'spurpose better, as it could come off at any hour of the tide; the largeboat should, therefore, be at Mrs. Dolly's service."

  They walked to the beach accordingly, accompanied by Butler. It was sometime before the boatmen could be assembled, and ere they were wellembarked, and ready to depart, the pale moon was come over the hill, andflinging a trembling reflection on the broad and glittering waves. But sosoft and pleasant was the night, that Butler, in bidding farewell toJeanie, had no apprehension for her safety; and what is yet moreextraordinary, Mrs. Dolly felt no alarm for her own. The air was soft,and came over the cooling wave with something of summer fragrance. Thebeautiful scene of headlands, and capes, and bays, around them, with thebroad blue chain of mountains, were dimly visible in the moonlight; whileevery dash of the oars made the waters glance and sparkle with thebrilliant phenomenon called the sea fire.

  This last circumstance filled Jeanie with wonder, and served to amuse themind of her companion, until they approached the little bay, which seemedto stretch its dark and wooded arms into the sea as if to welcome them.

  The usual landing-place was at a quarter of a mile's distance from theLodge, and although the tide did not admit of the large boat coming quiteclose to the jetty of loose stones which served as a pier, Jeanie, whowas both bold and active, easily sprung ashore; but Mrs., Dollypositively refusing to commit herself to the same risk, the complaisantMr. Archibald ordered the boat round to a more regular landing-place, ata considerable distance along the shore. He then prepared to landhimself, that he might, in the meanwhile, accompany Jeanie to the Lodge.But as there was no mistaking the woodland lane, which led from thence tothe shore, and as the moonlight
showed her one of the white chimneysrising out of the wood which embosomed the building, Jeanie declined thisfavour with thanks, and requested him to proceed with Mrs. Dolly, who,being "in a country where the ways were so strange to her, had mair needof countenance."

  This, indeed, was a fortunate circumstance, and might even be said tosave poor Cowslip's life, if it was true, as she herself used solemnly toaver, that she must positively have expired for fear, if she had beenleft alone in the boat with six wild Highlanders in kilts.

  The night was so exquisitely beautiful, that Jeanie, instead ofimmediately directing her course towards the Lodge, stood looking afterthe boat as it again put off from the side, and rowed into the littlebay, the dark figures of her companions growing less and less distinct asthey diminished in the distance, and the jorram, or melancholy boat-songof the rowers, coming on the ear with softened and sweeter sound, untilthe boat rounded the headland, and was lost to her observation.

  Still Jeanie remained in the same posture, looking out upon the sea. Itwould, she was aware, be some time ere her companions could reach theLodge, as the distance by the more convenient landing-place wasconsiderably greater than from the point where she stood, and she was notsorry to have an opportunity to spend the interval by herself.

  The wonderful change which a few weeks had wrought in her situation, fromshame and grief, and almost despair, to honour, joy, and a fair prospectof future happiness, passed before her eyes with a sensation whichbrought the tears into them. Yet they flowed at the same time fromanother source. As human happiness is never perfect, and aswell-constructed minds are never more sensible of the distresses of thosewhom they love, than when their own situation forms a contrast with them,Jeanie's affectionate regrets turned to the fate of her poor sister--thechild of so many hopes--the fondled nursling of so many years--now anexile, and, what was worse, dependent on the will of a man, of whosehabits she had every reason to entertain the worst opinion, and who, evenin his strongest paroxysms of remorse, had appeared too much a strangerto the feelings of real penitence.

  While her thoughts were occupied with these melancholy reflections, ashadowy figure seemed to detach itself from the copsewood on her righthand. Jeanie started, and the stories of apparitions and wraiths, seen bysolitary travellers in wild situations, at such times, and in such anhour, suddenly came full upon her imagination. The figure glided on, andas it came betwixt her and the moon, she was aware that it had theappearance of a woman. A soft voice twice repeated, "Jeanie--Jeanie!"--Was it indeed--could it be the voice of her sister?--Was she still amongthe living, or had the grave given uly its tenant?--Ere she could statethese questions to her own mind, Effie, alive, and in the body, hadclasped her in her arms and was straining her to her bosom, and devouringher with kisses. "I have wandered here," she said, "like a ghaist, to seeyou, and nae wonder you take me for ane--I thought but to see you gangby, or to hear the sound of your voice; but to speak to yoursell again,Jeanie, was mair than I deserved, and mair than I durst pray for."

  "O Effie! how came ye here alone, and at this hour, and on the wildseabeach?--Are you sure it's your ain living sell?" There was somethingof Effie's former humour in her practically answering the question by agentle pinch, more beseeming the fingers of a fairy than of a ghost. Andagain the sisters embraced, and laughed, and wept by turns.

  "But ye maun gang up wi' me to the Lodge, Effie," said Jeanie, "and tellme a' your story--I hae gude folk there that will make ye welcome for mysake."

  "Na, na, Jeanie," replied her sister sorrowfully,--"ye hae forgotten whatI am--a banished outlawed creature, scarce escaped the gallows by yourbeing the bauldest and the best sister that ever lived--I'll gae nearnane o' your grand friends, even if there was nae danger to me."

  "There is nae danger--there shall be nae danger," said Jeanie eagerly. "OEffie, dinna be wilfu'--be guided for ance--we will be sae happy a'thegither!"

  "I have a' the happiness I deserve on this side of the grave, now that Ihae seen you," answered Effie; "and whether there were danger to mysellor no, naebody shall ever say that I come with my cheat-the-gallows faceto shame my sister among her grand friends."

  "I hae nae grand friends," said Jeanie; "nae friends but what are friendsof yours--Reuben Butler and my father.--O unhappy lassie, dinna be dour,and turn your back on your happiness again! We wunna see anotheracquaintance--Come hame to us, your ain dearest friends--it's bettersheltering under an auld hedge than under a new-planted wood."

  "It's in vain speaking, Jeanie,--I maun drink as I hae brewed--I ammarried, and I maun follow my husband for better for worse."

  "Married, Effie!" exclaimed Jeanie--"Misfortunate creature! and to thatawfu'"

  "Hush, hush," said Effie, clapping one hand on her mouth, and pointing tothe thicket with the other, "he is yonder." She said this in a tone whichshowed that her husband had found means to inspire her with awe, as wellas affection. At this moment a man issued from the wood.

  It was young Staunton. Even by the imperfect light of the moon, Jeaniecould observe that he was handsomely dressed, and had the air of a personof rank.

  "Effie," he said, "our time is well-nigh spent--the skiff will be agroundin the creek, and I dare not stay longer.--I hope your sister will allowme to salute her?" But Jeanie shrunk back from him with a feeling ofinternal abhorrence. "Well," he said, "it does not much signify; if youkeep up the feeling of ill-will, at least you do not act upon it, and Ithank you for your respect to my secret, when a word (which in your placeI would have spoken at once) would have cost me my life. People say, youshould keep from the wife of your bosom the secret that concerns yourneck--my wife and her sister both know mine, and I shall not sleep a winkthe less sound."

  "But are you really married to my sister, sir?" asked Jeanie, in greatdoubt and anxiety; for the haughty, careless tone in which he spokeseemed to justify her worst apprehensions.

  "I really am legally married, and by my own name," replied Staunton, moregravely.

  "And your father--and your friends?"

  "And my father and my friends must just reconcile themselves to thatwhich is done and cannot be undone," replied Staunton. "However, it is myintention, in order to break off dangerous connections, and to let myfriends come to their temper, to conceal my marriage for the present, andstay abroad for some years. So that you will not hear of us for sometime, if ever you hear of us again at all. It would be dangerous, youmust be aware, to keep up the correspondence; for all would guess thatthe husband of Effie was the--what shall I call myself?--the slayer ofPorteous."

  Hard-hearted light man! thought Jeanie--to what a character she hasintrusted her happiness!--She has sown the wind, and maun reap thewhirlwind.

  "Dinna think ill o' him," said Effie, breaking away from her husband, andleading Jeanie a step or two out of hearing--"dinna think very ill o'him--he's gude to me, Jeanie--as gude as I deserve--And he is determinedto gie up his bad courses--Sae, after a', dinna greet for Effie; she isbetter off than she has wrought for.--But you--oh, you!--how can you behappy eneugh! never till ye get to heaven, where a'body is as gude asyoursell.--Jeanie, if I live and thrive, ye shall hear of me--if not,just forget that sic a creature ever lived to vex ye--fare yeweel--fare--fare ye weel!"

  She tore herself from her sister's arms--rejoined her husband--theyplunged into the copsewood, and she saw them no more. The whole scene hadthe effect of a vision, and she could almost have believed it such, butthat very soon after they quitted her, she heard the sound of oars, and askiff was seen on the firth, pulling swiftly towards the small smugglingsloop which lay in the offing. It was on board of such a vessel thatEffie had embarked at Portobello, and Jeanie had no doubt that the sameconveyance was destined, as Staunton had hinted, to transport them to aforeign country.

  Although it was impossible to determine whether this interview, while itwas passing, gave more pain or pleasure to Jeanie Deans, yet the ultimateimpression which remained on her mind was decidedly favourable. Effie wasmarried--made, according to the common phrase, an
honest woman--that wasone main point; it seemed also as if her husband were about toabandon the path of gross vice in which he had run so long and sodesperately--that was another. For his final and effectual conversionhe did not want understanding, and God knew his own hour.

  Such were the thoughts with which Jeanie endeavoured to console heranxiety respecting her sister's future fortune. On her arrival at thelodge, she found Archibald in some anxiety at her stay, and about to walkout in quest of her. A headache served as an apology for retiring torest, in order to conceal her visible agitation of mind from hercompanions.

  By this secession also she escaped a scene of a different sort. For, asif there were danger in all gigs, whether by sea or land, that ofKnockdunder had been run down by another boat, an accident owing chieflyto the drunkenness of the Captain, his crew, and passengers. Knockdunder,and two or three guests, whom he was bringing along with him to finishthe conviviality of the evening at the Lodge, got a sound ducking; but,being rescued by the crew of the boat which endangered them, there was noultimate loss, excepting that of the Captain's laced hat, which, greatlyto the satisfaction of the Highland part of the district, as well as tothe improvement of the conformity of his own personal appearance, hereplaced by a smart Highland bonnet next day. Many were the vehementthreats of vengeance which, on the succeeding morning, the graciousDuncan threw out against the boat which had upset him; but as neithershe, nor the small smuggling vessel to which she belonged, was any longerto be seen in the firth, he was compelled to sit down with the affront.This was the more hard, he said, as he was assured the mischief was doneon purpose, these scoundrels having lurked about after they had landedevery drop of brandy, and every bag of tea they had on board; and heunderstood the coxswain had been on shore, making particular inquiriesconcerning the time when his boat was to cross over, and to return, andso forth.

  "Put the neist time they meet me on the firth," said Duncan, with greatmajesty, "I will teach the moonlight rapscallions and vagabonds to keeptheir ain side of the road, and pe tamn'd to them!"