THE COMPLETE TALES OF MY LANDLORD (Illustrated Edition). Walter Scott
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standing in the mouth of the cavern, he flourished his naked sword.
“I will not fight with the man that preserved my father’s life,” said Morton. “I have not yet learned to say the words, ‘I yield;’ and my life I will rescue as I best can.”
So speaking, and ere Balfour was aware of his purpose, he sprung past him, and exerting that youthful agility of which he possessed an uncommon share, leaped clear across the fearful chasm which divided the mouth of the cave from the projecting rock on the opposite side, and stood there safe and free from his incensed enemy. He immediately ascended the ravine, and, as he turned, saw Burley stand for an instant aghast with astonishment, and then, with the frenzy of disappointed rage, rush into the interior of his cavern.
It was not difficult for him to perceive that this unhappy man’s mind had been so long agitated by desperate schemes and sudden disappointments that it had lost its equipoise, and that there was now in his conduct a shade of lunacy, not the less striking, from the vigour and craft with which he pursued his wild designs. Morton soon joined his guide, who had been terrified by the fall of the oak. This he represented as accidental; and she assured him, in return, that the inhabitant of the cave would experience no inconvenience from it, being always provided with materials to construct another bridge.
The adventures of the morning were not yet ended. As they approached the hut, the little girl made an exclamation of surprise at seeing her grandmother groping her way towards them, at a greater distance from her home than she could have been supposed capable of travelling.
“Oh, sir, sir!” said the old woman, when she heard them approach, “gin e’er ye loved Lord Evandale, help now, or never! God be praised that left my hearing when he took my poor eyesight! Come this way,— this way. And oh, tread lightly. Peggy, hinny, gang saddle the gentleman’s horse, and lead him cannily ahint the thorny shaw, and bide him there.”
She conducted him to a small window, through which, himself unobserved, he could see two dragoons seated at their morning draught of ale, and conversing earnestly together.
“The more I think of it,” said the one, “the less I like it, Inglis; Evandale was a good officer and the soldier’s friend; and though we were punished for the mutiny at Tillietudlem, yet, by —-, Frank, you must own we deserved it.”
“D— n seize me if I forgive him for it, though!” replied the other; “and I think I can sit in his skirts now.”
“Why, man, you should forget and forgive. Better take the start with him along with the rest, and join the ranting Highlanders. We have all eat King James’s bread.”
“Thou art an ass; the start, as you call it, will never happen,— the day’s put off. Halliday’s seen a ghost, or Miss Bellenden’s fallen sick of the pip, or some blasted nonsense or another; the thing will never keep two days longer, and the first bird that sings out will get the reward.”
“That’s true too,” answered his comrade; “and will this fellow — this Basil Olifant — pay handsomely?”
“Like a prince, man,” said Inglis. “Evandale is the man on earth whom he hates worst, and he fears him, besides, about some law business; and were he once rubbed out of the way, all, he thinks, will be his own.”
“But shall we have warrants and force enough?” said the other fellow. “Few people here will stir against my lord, and we may find him with some of our own fellows at his back.”
“Thou ‘rt a cowardly fool, Dick,” returned Inglis; he is living quietly down at Fairy Knowe to avoid suspicion. Olifant is a magistrate, and will have some of his own people that he can trust along with him. There are us two, and the laird says he can get a desperate fighting Whig fellow, called Quintin Mackell, that has an old grudge at Evandale.”
“Well, well, you are my officer, you know,” said the private, with true military conscience, “and if anything is wrong —”
“I’ll take the blame,” said Inglis. “Come, another pot of ale, and let us to Tillietudlem.— Here, blind Bess!— Why, where the devil has the old hag crept to?”
“Delay them as long as you can,” whispered Morton, as he thrust his purse into the hostess’s hand; “all depends on gaining time.”
Then, walking swiftly to the place where the girl held his horse ready, “To Fairy Knowe? No; alone I could not protect them. I must instantly to Glasgow. Wittenbold, the commandant there, will readily give me the support of a troop, and procure me the countenance of the civil power. I must drop a caution as I pass.— Come, Moorkopf,” he said, addressing his horse as he mounted him, “this day must try your breath and speed.”
Chapter 44
Yet could he not his closing eyes withdraw,
Though less and less of Emily he saw;
So, speechless for a little space he lay,
Then grasp’d the hand he held, and sigh’d his soul away.
Palamon and Acite.
The indisposition of Edith confined her to bed during the eventful day on which she had received such an unexpected shock from the sudden apparition of Morton. Next morning, however, she was reported to be so much better that Lord Evandale resumed his purpose of leaving Fairy Knowe. At a late hour in the forenoon Lady Emily entered the apartment of Edith with a peculiar gravity of manner. Having received and paid the compliments of the day, she observed it would be a sad one for her, though it would relieve Miss Bellenden of an encumbrance: “My brother leaves us today, Miss Bellenden.”
“Leaves us!” exclaimed Edith, in surprise; “for his own house, I trust?”
“I have reason to think he meditates a more distant journey,” answered Lady Emily; “he has little to detain him in this country.”
“Good Heaven!” exclaimed Edith, “why was I born to become the wreck of all that is manly and noble! What can be done to stop him from running headlong on ruin? I will come down instantly.— Say that I implore he will not depart until I speak with him.”
“It will be in vain, Miss Bellenden; but I will execute your commission;” and she left the room as formally as she had entered it, and informed her brother Miss Bellenden was so much recovered as to propose coming downstairs ere he went away.
“I suppose,” she added pettishly, “the prospect of being speedily released from our company has wrought a cure on her shattered nerves.”
“Sister,” said Lord Evandale, “you are unjust, if not envious.”
“Unjust I maybe, Evandale, but I should not have dreamt,” glancing her eye at a mirror, “of being thought envious without better cause. But let us go to the old lady; she is making a feast in the other room which might have dined all your troop when you had one.”
Lord Evandale accompanied her in silence to the parlour, for he knew it was in vain to contend with her prepossessions and offended pride. They found the table covered with refreshments, arranged under the careful inspection of Lady Margaret.
“Ye could hardly weel be said to breakfast this morning, my Lord Evandale, and ye maun e’en partake of a small collation before ye ride, such as this poor house, whose inmates are so much indebted to you, can provide in their present circumstances. For my ain part, I like to see young folk take some refection before they ride out upon their sports or their affairs, and I said as much to his most sacred Majesty when he breakfasted at Tillietudlem in the year of grace sixteen hundred and fifty-one; and his most sacred Majesty was pleased to reply, drinking to my health at the same time in a flagon of Rhenish wine, ‘Lady Margaret, ye speak like a Highland oracle.’ These were his Majesty’s very words; so that your lordship may judge whether I have not good authority to press young folk to partake of their vivers.”
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