Tales of My Landlord - All 7 Novels in One Edition (Illustrated). Walter Scott
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my dear Evandale,” answered Claverhouse, “I am not a man who forgets such debts; you will delight me by showing how I can evince my gratitude.”
“I will hold the debt cancelled,” said Lord Evandale, “if you will spare this young man’s life.”
“Evandale,” replied Grahame, in great surprise, “you are mad — absolutely mad — what interest can you have in this young spawn of an old roundhead?— His father was positively the most dangerous man in all Scotland, cool, resolute, soliderly, and inflexible in his cursed principles. His son seems his very model; you cannot conceive the mischief he may do. I know mankind, Evandale — were he an insignificant, fanatical, country booby, do you think I would have refused such a trifle as his life to Lady Margaret and this family? But this is a lad of fire, zeal, and education — and these knaves want but such a leader to direct their blind enthusiastic hardiness. I mention this, not as refusing your request, but to make you fully aware of the possible consequences — I will never evade a promise, or refuse to return an obligation — if you ask his life, he shall have it.”
“Keep him close prisoner,” answered Evandale, “but do not be surprised if I persist in requesting you will not put him to death. I have most urgent reasons for what I ask.”
“Be it so then,” replied Grahame;—“but, young man, should you wish in your future life to rise to eminence in the service of your king and country, let it be your first task to subject to the public interest, and to the discharge of your duty, your private passions, affections, and feelings. These are not times to sacrifice to the dotage of greybeards, or the tears of silly women, the measures of salutary severity which the dangers around compel us to adopt. And remember, that if I now yield this point, in compliance with your urgency, my present concession must exempt me from future solicitations of the same nature.”
He then stepped forward to the table, and bent his eyes keenly on Morton, as if to observe what effect the pause of awful suspense between death and life, which seemed to freeze the bystanders with horror, would produce upon the prisoner himself. Morton maintained a degree of firmness, which nothing but a mind that had nothing left upon earth to love or to hope, could have supported at such a crisis.
“You see him?” said Claverhouse, in a half whisper to Lord Evandale; “he is tottering on the verge between time and eternity, a situation more appalling than the most hideous certainty; yet his is the only cheek unblenched, the only eye that is calm, the only heart that keeps its usual time, the only nerves that are not quivering. Look at him well, Evandale — If that man shall ever come to head an army of rebels, you will have much to answer for on account of this morning’s work.” He then said aloud, “Young man, your life is for the present safe, through the intercession of your friends — Remove him, Bothwell, and let him be properly guarded, and brought along with the other prisoners.”
“If my life,” said Morton, stung with the idea that he owed his respite to the intercession of a favoured rival, “if my life be granted at Lord Evandale’s request”—
“Take the prisoner away, Bothwell,” said Colonel Grahame, interrupting him; “I have neither time to make nor to hear fine speeches.”
Bothwell forced off Morton, saying, as he conducted him into the court-yard, “Have you three lives in your pocket, besides the one in your body, my lad, that you can afford to let your tongue run away with them at this rate? Come, come, I’ll take care to keep you out of the Colonel’s way; for, egad, you will not be five minutes with him before the next tree or the next ditch will be the word. So, come along to your companions in bondage.”
Thus speaking, the sergeant, who, in his rude manner, did not altogether want sympathy for a gallant young man, hurried Morton down to the courtyard, where three other prisoners, (two men and a woman,) who had been taken by Lord Evandale, remained under an escort of dragoons.
Meantime, Claverhouse took his leave of Lady Margaret. But it was difficult for the good lady to forgive his neglect of her intercession.
“I have thought till now,” she said, “that the Tower of Tillietudlem might have been a place of succour to those that are ready to perish, even if they werena sae deserving as they should have been — but I see auld fruit has little savour — our suffering and our services have been of an ancient date.”
“They are never to be forgotten by me, let me assure your ladyship,” said Claverhouse. “Nothing but what seemed my sacred duty could make me hesitate to grant a favour requested by you and the Major. Come, my good lady, let me hear you say you have forgiven me, and, as I return to-night, I will bring a drove of two hundred whigs with me, and pardon fifty head of them for your sake.”
“I shall be happy to hear of your success, Colonel,” said Major Bellenden; “but take an old soldier’s advice, and spare blood when battle’s over,— and once more let me request to enter bail for young Morton.”
“We will settle that when I return,” said Claverhouse. “Meanwhile, be assured his life shall be safe.”
During this conversation, Evandale looked anxiously around for Edith; but the precaution of Jenny Dennison had occasioned her mistress being transported to her own apartment.
Slowly and heavily he obeyed the impatient summons of Claverhouse, who, after taking a courteous leave of Lady Margaret and the Major, had hastened to the court-yard. The prisoners with their guard were already on their march, and the officers with their escort mounted and followed. All pressed forward to overtake the main body, as it was supposed they would come in sight of the enemy in little more than two hours.
Chapter 14
My hounds may a’ rin masterless,
My hawks may fly frae tree to tree,
My lord may grip my vassal lands,
For there again maun I never be!
Old Ballad.
We left Morton, along with three companions in captivity, travelling in the custody of a small body of soldiers, who formed the rear-guard of the column under the command of Claverhouse, and were immediately under the charge of Sergeant Bothwell. Their route lay towards the hills in which the insurgent presbyterians were reported to be in arms. They had not prosecuted their march a quarter of a mile ere Claverhouse and Evandale galloped past them, followed by their orderly-men, in order to take their proper places in the column which preceded them. No sooner were they past than Bothwell halted the body which he commanded, and disencumbered Morton of his irons.
“King’s blood must keep word,” said the dragoon. “I promised you should be civilly treated as far as rested with me.— Here, Corporal Inglis, let this gentleman ride alongside of the other young fellow who is prisoner; and you may permit them to converse together at their pleasure, under their breath, but take care they are guarded by two files with loaded carabines. If they attempt an escape, blow their brains out.— You cannot call that using you uncivilly,” he continued, addressing himself to Morton, “it’s the rules of war, you know.— And, Inglis, couple up the parson and the old woman, they are fittest company for each other, d — n me; a single file may guard them well enough. If they speak a word of cant or fanatical nonsense, let them have a strapping with a shoulder-belt. There’s some hope of choking a silenced parson; if he is not allowed to hold forth, his own treason will burst him.”
Having made this arrangement, Bothwell placed himself at the head of the party, and Inglis, with six dragoons, brought up the rear. The whole then set forward at a trot, with the purpose of overtaking the main body of the regiment.
Morton, overwhelmed with a complication of feelings, was totally indifferent to the various arrangements made for his secure custody, and even to the relief afforded him by his release from the fetters. He experienced that blank and waste of the heart which follows the hurricane of passion, and, no longer supported by the pride and conscious rectitude which dictated