The Bride of Lammermoor Read online

  CHAPTER VIII.

  The hearth in hall was black and dead, No board was dight in bower within, Nor merry bowl nor welcome bed; "Here's sorry cheer," quoth the Heir of Linne.

  Old Ballad

  THE feelings of the prodigal Heir of Linne, as expressed in thatexcellent old song, when, after dissipating his whole fortune, he foundhimself the deserted inhabitant of "the lonely lodge," might perhapshave some resemblance to those of the Master of Ravenswood in hisdeserted mansion of Wolf's Crag. The Master, however, had this advantageover the spendthrift in the legend, that, if he was in similar distress,he could not impute it to his own imprudence. His misery had beenbequeathed to him by his father, and, joined to his high blood, and toa title which the courteous might give or the churlish withhold at theirpleasure, it was the whole inheritance he had derived from his ancestry.Perhaps this melancholy yet consolatory reflection crossed the mind ofthe unfortunate young nobleman with a breathing of comfort. Favourableto calm reflection, as well as to the Muses, the morning, while itdispelled the shades of night, had a composing and sedative effect uponthe stormy passions by which the Master of Ravenswood had been agitatedon the preceding day. He now felt himself able to analyse the differentfeelings by which he was agitated, and much resolved to combat andto subdue them. The morning, which had arisen calm and bright, gave apleasant effect even to the waste moorland view which was seen from thecastle on looking to the landward; and the glorious ocean, crisped witha thousand rippling waves of silver, extended on the other side, inawful yet complacent majesty, to the verge of the horizon. With suchscenes of calm sublimity the human heart sympathises even in its mostdisturbed moods, and deeds of honour and virtue are inspired by theirmajestic influence. To seek out Bucklaw in the retreat which he hadafforded him, was the first occupation of the Master, after he hadperformed, with a scrutiny unusually severe, the important task ofself-examination. "How now, Bucklaw?" was his morning's salutation--"howlike you the couch in which the exiled Earl of Angus once sleptin security, when he was pursued by the full energy of a king'sresentment?"

  "Umph!" returned the sleeper awakened; "I have little to complain ofwhere so great a man was quartered before me, only the mattress was ofthe hardest, the vault somewhat damp, the rats rather more mutinous thanI would have expected from the state of Caleb's larder; and if there hadbeen shutters to that grated window, or a curtain to the bed, I shouldthink it, upon the whole, an improvement in your accommodations."

  "It is, to be sure, forlorn enough," said the Master, looking around thesmall vault; "but if you will rise and leave it, Caleb will endeavour tofind you a better breakfast than your supper of last night."

  "Pray, let it be no better," said Bucklaw, getting up, and endeavouringto dress himself as well as the obscurity of the place wouldpermit--"let it, I say, be no better, if you mean me to preserve in myproposed reformation. The very recollection of Caleb's beverage has donemore to suppress my longing to open the day with a morning draught thantwenty sermons would have done. And you, master, have you been able togive battle valiantly to your bosom-snake? You see I am in the way ofsmothering my vipers one by one."

  "I have commenced the battle, at least, Bucklaw, adn I have had a fairvision of an angel who descended to my assistance," replied the Master.

  "Woe's me!" said his guest, "no vision can I expect, unless my aunt,Lady Grinington, should betake herself to the tomb; and then it would bethe substance of her heritage rather than the appearance of her phantomthat I should consider as the support of my good resolutions. But thissame breakfast, Master--does the deer that is to make the pasty run yeton foot, as the ballad has it?"

  "I will inquire into that matter," said his entertainer; and, leavingthe apartment, he went in search of Caleb, whom, after some difficulty,he found in an obscure sort of dungeon, which had been in former timesthe buttery of the castle. Here the old man was employed busily in thedoubtful task of burnishing a pewter flagon until it should take thehue and semblance of silver-plate. "I think it may do--I think it mightpass, if they winna bring it ower muckle in the light o' the window!"were the ejaculations which he muttered from time to time, as if toencourage himself in his undertaking, when he was interrupted by thevoice of his master.

  "Take this," said the Master of Ravenswood, "and get what is necessaryfor the family." And with these words he gave to the old butler thepurse which had on the preceding evening so narrowly escaped the fangsof Craigengelt.

  The old man shook his silvery and thin locks, and looked with anexpression of the most heartfelt anguish at his master as he weighed inhis hand the slender treasure, and said in a sorrowful voice, "And isthis a' that's left?"

  "All that is left at present," said the Master, affecting morecheerfulness than perhaps he really felt, "is just the green purse andthe wee pickle gowd, as the old song says; but we shall do better oneday, Caleb."

  "Before that day domes," said Caleb, "I doubt there will be an end ofan auld sang, and an auld serving-man to boot. But it disna become me tospeak that gate to your honour, adn you looking sae pale. Tak backthe purse, and keep it to be making a show before company; for if yourhonour would just take a bidding, adn be whiles taking it out afore folkand putting it up again, there's naebody would refuse us trust, for a'that's come and gane yet."

  "But, Caleb," said the Master, "I still intend to leave this countryvery soon, and desire to do so with the reputation of an honest man,leaving no debty behind me, at last of my own contracting."

  "And gude right ye suld gang away as a true man, and so ye shall; forauld Caleb can tak the wyte of whatever is taen on for the house, andthen it will be a' just ae man's burden; and I will live just as weel inthe tolbooth as out of it, and the credit of the family will be a' safeand sound."

  The Master endeavoured, in vain, to make Caleb comprehend that thebutler's incurring the responsibility of debts in his own person wouldrather add to than remove the objections which he had to their beingcontracted. He spoke to a premier too busy in devising ways and means topuzzle himself with refuting the arguments offered against their justiceor expediency.

  "There's Eppie Sma'trash will trust us for ale," said Caleb tohimself--"she has lived a' her life under the family--and maybe wi' asoup brandy; I canna say for wine--she is but a lone woman, and getsher claret by a runlet at a time; but I'll work a wee drap out o' her byfair means or foul. For doos, there's the doocot; there will be poultryamang the tenants, though Luckie Chirnside says she has paid the kaintwice ower. We'll mak shift, an it like your honour--we'll mak shift;keep your heart abune, for the house sall haud its credit as lang asauld Caleb is to the fore."

  The entertainment which the old man's exertions of various kindsenabled him to present to the young gentlemen for three or four days wascertainly of no splendid description, but it may readily be believedit was set before no critical guests; and even the distresses, excuses,evasions, and shifts of Caleb afforded amusement to the young men, andadded a sort of interest to the scrambling and irregular style of theirtable. They had indeed occasion to seize on every circumstance thatmight serve to diversify or enliven time, which otherwise passed away soheavily.

  Bucklaw, shut out from his usual field-sports and joyous carouses by thenecessity of remaining concealed within the walls of the castle, becamea joyless and uninteresting companion. When the Master of Ravenswoodwould no longer fence or play at shovel-board; when he himself hadpolished to the extremity the coat of his palfrey with brush, currycomb, and hair-cloth; when he had seen him eat his provender, andgently lie down in his stall, he could hardly help envying the animal'sapparent acquiescence in a life so monotonous. "The stupid brute," hesaid, "thinks neither of the race-ground or the hunting-field, orhis green paddock at Bucklaw, but enjoys himself as comfortably whenhaltered to the rack in this ruinous vault, as if he had been foaledin it; and, I who have the freedom of a prisoner at large, to rangethrough the dungeons of this wretched old tower, can hardly,betwixt whistling and sleeping, contrive to pass away the ho
ur tilldinner-time."

  And with this disconsolate reflection, he wended his way to the bartizanor battlements of the tower, to watch what objects might appear on thedistant moor, or to pelt, with pebbles and pieces of lime, the sea-mewsand cormorants which established themselves incautiously within thereach of an idle young man.

  Ravenswood, with a mind incalculably deeper and more powerful than thatof his companion, had his own anxious subjects of reflection, whichwrought for him the same unhappiness that sheer enui and want ofoccupation inflicted on his companion. The first sight of Lucy Ashtonhad been less impressive than her image proved to be upon reflection. Asthe depth and violence of that revengeful passion by which he had beenactuated in seeking an interview with the father began to abate bydegrees, he looked back on his conduct towards the daughter as harshand unworthy towards a female of rank and beauty. Her looks of gratefulacknowledgment, her words of affectionate courtesy, had been repelledwith something which approached to disdain; and if the Master ofRavenswood had sustained wrongs at the hand of Sir William Ashton, hisconscience told him they had been unhandsomely resented towards hisdaughter. When his thoughts took this turn of self-reproach, therecollection of Lucy Ashton's beautiful features, rendered yet moreinteresting by the circumstances in which their meeting had taken place,made an impression upon his mind at once soothing and painful. Thesweetness of her voice, the delicacy of her expressions, the vivid glowof her filial affection, embittered his regret at having repulsed hergratitude with rudeness, while, at the same time, they placed before hisimagination a picture of the most seducing sweetness.

  Even young Ravenswood's strength of moral feeling and rectitude ofpurpose at once increased the danger of cherishing these recollections,and the propensity to entertain them. Firmly resolved as he was tosubdue, if possible, the predominating vice in his character, headmitted with willingness--nay, he summoned up in his imagination--theideas by which it could be most powerfully counteracted; and, while hedid so, a sense of his own harsh conduct towards the daughter of hisenemy naturally induced him, as if by way of recompense, to invest herwith more of grace and beauty than perhaps she could actually claim.

  Had any one at this period told the Master of Ravenswood that he hadso lately vowed vengeance against the whole lineage of him whom heconsidered, not unjustly, as author of his father's ruin and death, hemight at first have repelled the charge as a foul calumny; yet, uponserious self-examination, he would have been compelled to admit that ithad, at one period, some foundation in truth, though, according to thepresent tone of his sentiments, it was difficult to believe that thishad really been the case.

  There already existed in his bosom two contradictory passions--a desireto revenge the death of his father, strangely qualified by admiration ofhis enemy's daughter. Against the former feeling he had struggled, untilit seemed to him upon the wane; against the latter he used no means ofresistance, for he did not suspect its existence. That this was actuallythe case was chiefly evinced by his resuming his resolution to leaveScotland. Yet, though such was his purpose, he remained day after day atWolf's Crag, without taking measures for carrying it into execution.It is true, that he had written to one or two kinsmen who resided in adistant quarter of Scotland, and particularly to the Marquis of A----,intimating his purpose; and when pressed upon the subject by Bucklaw, hewas wont to allege the necessity of waiting for their reply, especiallythat of the Marquis, before taking so decisive a measure.

  The Marquis was rich and powerful; and although he was suspected toentertain sentiments unfavourable to the government established at theRevolution, he had nevertheless address enough to head a party inthe Scottish privy council, connected with the High Church faction inEngland, and powerful enough to menace those to whom the Lord Keeperadhered with a probable subversion of their power. The consulting witha personage of such importance was a plausible excise, which Ravenswoodused to Bucklaw, and probably to himself, for continuing his residenceat Wolf's Crag; and it was rendered yet more so by a general reportwhich began to be current of a probable change of ministers and measuresin the Scottish administration. The rumours, strongly asserted bysome, and as resolutely denied by others, as their wishes or interestdictated, found their way even to the ruinous Tower of Wolf's Crag,chiefly through the medium of Caleb, the butler, who, among his otherexcellences, was an ardent politician, and seldom made an excursionfrom the old fortress to the neighbouring village of Wolf's Hope withoutbringing back what tidings were current in the vicinity.

  But if Bucklaw could not offer any satisfactory objections to the delayof the Master in leaving Scotland, he did not the less suffer withimpatience the state of inaction to which it confined him; and it wasonly the ascendency which his new companion had acquired over him thatinduced him to submit to a course of life so alien to his habits andinclinations.

  "You were wont to be thought a stirring active young fellow, Master,"was his frequent remonstrance; "yet here you seem determined to liveon and on like a rat in a hole, with this trifling difference, that thewiser vermin chooses a hermitage where he can find food at least; but asfor us, Caleb's excuses become longer as his diet turns more spare, andI fear we shall realise the stories they tell of the slother: we havealmost eat up the last green leaf on the plant, and have nothing leftfor it but to drop from the tree and break our necks."

  "Do not fear it," said Ravenswood; "there is a fate watches for us, andwe too have a stake in the revolution that is now impending, and whichalready has alarmed many a bosom."

  "What fate--what revolution?" inquired his companion. "We have had onerevolution too much already, I think."

  Ravenswood interrupted him by putting into his hands a letter.

  "Oh," answered Bucklaw, "my dream's out. I thought I heard Caleb thismorning pressing some unfortunate fellow to a drink of cold water, andassuring him it was better for his stomach in the morning than ale orbrandy."

  "It was my Lord of A----'s courier," said Ravenswood, "who was doomed toexperience his ostentatious hospitality, which I believe ended in sourbeer and herrings. Read, and you will see the news he has brought us.""I will as fast as I can," said Bucklaw; "but I am no great clerk, nordoes his lordship seem to be the first of scribes."

  The reader will peruse in, a few seconds, by the aid our friendBallantyne's types, what took Bucklaw a good half hour in perusal,though assisted by the Master of Ravenswood. The tenor was as follows:

  "RIGHT HONOURABLE OUR COUSIN:

  "Our hearty commendations premised, these come to assure you of theinterest which we take in your welfare, and in your purpose towards itsaugmentation. If we have been less active in showing forth our effectivegood-will towards you than, as a loving kinsman and blood-relative, wewould willingly have desired, we request that you will impute it to lackof opportunity to show our good-liking, not to any coldness of our willTouching your resolution to travel in foreign parts, as at this time wehold the same little advisable, in respect that your ill-willers may,according to the custom of such persons, impute motives for yourjourney, whereof, although we know and believe you to be as clear asourselves, yet natheless their words may find credence in places wherethe belief in them may much prejudice you, and which we should see withmore unwillingness and displeasure than with means of remedy.

  "Having thus, as becometh our kindred, given you our poor mind on thesubject of your journeying forth of Scotland, we would willinglyadd reasons of weight, which might materially advantage you and yourfather's house, thereby to determine you to abide at Wolf's Crag, untilthis harvest season shall be passed over. But what sayeth the proverb,verbum sapienti--a word is more to him that hath wisdom than a sermon toa fool. And albeit we have written this poor scroll with our own hand,and are well assured of the fidelity of our messenger, as him that ismany ways bounden to us, yet so it is, that sliddery ways crave warywalking, and that we may not peril upon paper matters which we wouldgladly impart to you by word of mouth. Wherefore, it was our purpose tohave prayed you heartily to come to this our barren H
ighland country tokill a stag, and to treat of the matters which we are now more painfullyinditing to you anent. But commodity does not serve at present for suchour meeting, which, therefore, shall be deferred until sic time as wemay in all mirth rehearse those things whereof we now keep silence.Meantime, we pray you to think that we are, and will still be, your goodkinsman and well-wisher, waiting but for times of whilk we do, as itwere, entertain a twilight prospect, and appear and hope to be also youreffectual well-doer. And in which hope we heartily write ourself,

  "Right Honourable,

  "Your loving cousin,

  "A----."Given from our poor house of B----," etc.

  Superscribed--"For the right honourable, and our honoured kinsman, theMaster of Ravenswood--These, with haste, haste, post haste--ride and rununtil these be delivered."

  "What think you of this epistle, Bucklaw?" said the Master, when hiscompanion had hammered out all the sense, and almost all the words ofwhich it consisted.

  "Truly, that the Marquis's meaning is as great a riddle as hismanuscript. He is really in much need of _Wit's Interpreter_, or the_Complete Letter-Writer_, and were I you, I would send him a copy by thebearer. He writes you very kindly to remain wasting your time andyour money in this vile, stupid, oppressed country, without so much asoffering you the countenance and shelter of his house. In my opinion, hehas some scheme in view in which he supposes you can be useful, and hewishes to keep you at hand, to make use of you when it ripens,reserving the power of turning you adrift, should his plot fail in theconcoction."

  "His plot! Then you suppose it is a treasonable business," answeredRavenswood.

  "What else can it be?" replied Bucklaw; "the Marquis has been longsuspected to have an eye to Saint Germains."

  "He should not engage me rashly in such an adventure," said Ravenswood;"when I recollect the times of the first and second Charles, and of thelast James, truly I see little reason that, as a man or a patriot, Ishould draw my sword for their descendants."

  "Humph!" replied Bucklaw; "so you have set yourself down to mourn overthe crop-eared dogs whom honest Claver'se treated as they deserved?"

  "They first gave the dogs an ill name, and then hanged them," repliedRavenswood. "I hope to see the day when justice shall be open to Whigand Tory, and when these nicknames shall only be used among coffee-housepoliticians, as 'slut' and 'jade' are among apple-women, as cant termsof idle spite and rancour."

  "That will nto be in our days, Master: the iron has entered too deeplyinto our sides and our souls."

  "It will be, however, one day," replied the Master; "men will not alwaysstart at these nicknames as at a trumpet-sound. As social life is betterprotected, its comforts will become too dear to be hazarded without somebetter reasons than speculative politics."

  "It is fine talking," answered Bucklaw; "but my heart is with the oldsong--

  To see good corn upon the rigs, And a gallow built to hang the Whigs, And the right restored where the right should be. Oh, that is the thing that would wanton me."

  "You may sing as loudly as you will, cantabit vacuus----," answered theMaster; "but I believe the Marquis is too wise, at least too wary, tojoin you in such a burden. I suspect he alludes to a revolution in theScottish privy council, rather than in the British kingdoms."

  "Oh, confusion to your state tricks!" exclaimed Bucklaw--"your coldcalculating manoeuvres, which old gentlemen in wrought nightcapsand furred gowns execute like so many games at chess, and displace atreasurer or lord commissioner as they would take a rook or a pawn.Tennis for my sport, and battle for my earnest! And you, Master, so depand considerate as you would seem, you have that within you makesthe blood boil faster than suits your present humour of moralising onpolitical truths. You are one of those wise men who see everything withgreat composure till their blood is up, and then--woe to any one whoshould put them in mind of their own prudential maxims!" "Perhaps," saidRavenswood, "you read me more rightly than I can myself. But to thinkjustly will certainly go some length in helping me to act so. But hark!I hear Caleb tolling the dinner-bell."

  "Which he always does with the more sonorous grace in proportion to themeagreness of the cheer which he has provided," said Bucklaw; "as ifthat infernal clang and jangle, which will one day bring the belfrydown the cliff, could convert a starved hen into a fat capon, and ablade-bone of mutton into a haunch of venison."

  "I wish we may be so well off as your worst conjectures surmise,Bucklaw, from the extreme solemnity and ceremony with which Caleb seemsto place on the table that solitary covered dish."

  "Uncover, Caleb! uncover, for Heaven's sake!" said Bucklaw; "let us havewhat you can give us without preface. Why, it stands well enough, man,"he continued, addressing impatiently the ancient butler, who, withoutreply, kept shifting the dish, until he had at length placed it withmathematical precision in the very midst of the table.

  "What have we got here, Caleb?" inquired the Master in his turn.

  "Ahem! sir, ye suld have known before; but his honour the Laird ofBucklaw is so impatient," answered Caleb, still holding the dish withone hand and the cover with the other, with evident reluctance todisclose the contents.

  "But what is it, a God's name--not a pair of clean spurs, I hope, in theBorder fashion of old times?"

  "Ahem! ahem!" reiterated Caleb, "your honour is pleased to be facetious;natheless, I might presume to say it was a convenient fashion, and used,as I have heard, in an honourable and thriving family. But touching yourpresent dinner, I judged that this being St. Magdalen's [Margaret's]Eve, who was a worthy queen of Scotland in her day, your honours mightjudge it decorous, if not altogether to fast, yet only to sustain naturewith some slight refection, as ane saulted herring or the like." And,uncovering the dish, he displayed four of the savoury fishes which hementioned, adding, in a subdued tone, "that they were no just commonherring neither, being every ane melters, and sauted with uncommon careby the housekeeper (poor Mysie) for his honour's especial use."

  "Out upon all apologies!" said the Master, "let us eat the herrings,since there is nothing better to be had; but I begin to think with you,Bucklaw, that we are consuming the last green leaf, and that, in spiteof the Marquis's political machinations, we must positively shift campfor want of forage, without waiting the issue of them."