THE FRIGHT.
As shakes the bough of trembling leaf,
When sudden whirlwinds rise;
As stands aghast the warrior chief,
When his base army flies.
. . . . . .
It had been settled by all who took the matter into consideration, that
the fidgety, fiery, old Nabob would soon quarrel with his landlady, Mrs.
Dods, and become impatient of his residence at St. Ronan's. A man so
kind to himself, and so inquisitive about the affairs of others, could
have, it was supposed, a limited sphere for gratification either of his
tastes or of his curiosity, in the Aultoun of St. Ronan's: and many a
time the precise day and hour of his departure were fixed by the idlers
at the Spa. But still old Touchwood appeared amongst them when the
weather permitted, with his nut-brown visage, his throat carefully
wrapped up in an immense Indian kerchief, and his gold-headed cane,
which he never failed to carry over his shoulder; his short, but stout
limbs, and his active step, showing plainly that he bore it rather as a
badge of dignity than a means of support. There he stood, answering
shortly and gruffly to all questions proposed to him, and making his
remarks aloud upon the company, with great indifference as to the
offence which plight be taken; and as soon as the ancient priestess had
handed him his glass of the salutiferous water, turned on his heel with
a brief good-morning, and either marched back to hide himself in the
Manse, with his crony Mr. Cargill, or to engage in some hobby-horsical
pursuit connected with his neighbours in the Aultoun.
The truth was, that the honest gentleman having, so far as Mrs. Dods
would permit, put matters to rights within her residence, wisely
abstained from pushing his innovations any farther, aware that it is not
every stone which is capable of receiving the last degree of polish. He
next set himself about putting Mr. Cargill's house into order; and
without leave asked or given by that reverend gentleman, he actually
accomplished as wonderful a reformation in the Manse, as could have been
effected by a benevolent Brownie. The floors were sometimes swept--the
carpets were sometimes shaken--the plates and dishes were cleaner--there
was tea and sugar in the tea-chest, and a joint of meat at proper times
was to be found in the larder. The elder maid-servant wore a good stuff
gown--the younger snooded up her hair, and now went about the house a
damsel so trig and neat, that some said she was too handsome for the
service of a bachelor divine; and others, that they saw no business so
old a fool as the Nabob had to be meddling with a lassie's busking. But
for such evil bruits Mr. Touchwood cared not, even if he happened to
hear of them, which was very doubtful. Add to all these changes, that
the garden was weeded, and the glebe was regularly laboured.
The talisman by which all this desirable alteration was wrought,
consisted partly in small presents, partly in constant attention. The
liberality of the singular old gentleman gave him a perfect right to
scold when he saw things wrong; the domestics, who had fallen into total
sloth and indifference, began to exert themselves under Mr. Touchwood's
new system of rewards and surveillance; and the minister, half
unconscious of the cause, reaped the advantage of the exertions of his
busy friend. Sometimes he lifted his head, when he heard workmen
thumping and bouncing in the neighbourhood of his study, and demanded
the meaning of the clatter which annoyed him; but on receiving for
answer that it was by order of Mr. Touchwood, he resumed his labours,
under the persuasion that all was well.
But even the Augean task of putting the Manse in order, did not satisfy
the gigantic activity of Mr. Touchwood. He aspired to universal dominion
in the Aultoun of St. Ronan's; and, like most men of an ardent temper,
he contrived, in a great measure, to possess himself of the authority
which he longed after. Then was there war waged by him with all the
petty, but perpetual nuisances, which infest a Scottish town of the old
stamp--then was the hereditary dunghill, which had reeked before the
window of the cottage for fourscore years, transported behind the
house--then was the broken wheelbarrow, or unserviceable cart, removed
out of the footpath--the old hat, or blue petticoat, taken from the
window into which it had been stuffed, to "expel the winter's flaw," was
consigned to the gutter, and its place supplied by good perspicuous
glass. The means by which such reformation was effected, were the same
as resorted to in the Manse--money and admonition. The latter given
alone would have met little attention--perhaps would have provoked
opposition--but, softened and sweetened by a little present to assist
the reform recommended, it sunk into the hearts of the hearers, and in
general overcame their objections. Besides, an opinion of the Nabob's
wealth was high among the villagers; and an idea prevailed amongst them,
that, notwithstanding his keeping no servants or equipage, he was able
to purchase, if he pleased, half the land in the country. It was not
grand carriages and fine liveries that made heavy purses, they rather
helped to lighten them; and they said, who pretended to know what they
were talking about, that old Turnpenny, and Mr. Bindloose to boot, would
tell down more money on Mr. Touchwood's mere word, than upon the joint
bond of half the fine folk at the Well. Such an opinion smoothed every
thing before the path of one, who showed himself neither averse to give
nor to lend; and it by no means diminished the reputation of his wealth,
that in transactions of business he was not carelessly negligent of his
interest, but plainly showed he understood the value of what he was
parting with. Few, therefore, cared to withstand the humours of a
whimsical old gentleman, who had both the will and the means of obliging
those disposed to comply with his fancies; and thus the singular
stranger contrived, in the course of a brief space of days or weeks, to
place the villagers more absolutely at his devotion, than they had been
to the pleasure of any individual since their ancient lords had left the
Aultoun. The power of the baron-bailie himself, though the office was
vested in the person of old Meiklewham, was a subordinate jurisdiction,
compared to the voluntary allegiance which the inhabitants paid to Mr.
Touchwood.
There were, however, recusants, who declined the authority thus set up
amongst them, and, with the characteristic obstinacy of their
countrymen, refused to hearken to the words of the stranger, whether
they were for good or for evil. These men's dunghills were not removed,
nor the stumbling-blocks taken from the footpath, where it passed the
front of their houses. And it befell, that while Mr. Touchwood was most
eager in abating the nuisances of the village, he had very nearly
experienced a frequent fate of great reformers--that of losing his life
by means of one of those enormities which as yet had subsisted in spite
of all his efforts.
The Nabob finding his time after dinner hang somewhat heavy on his hand,
and the moon being tolerably bright, had, one harvest evening, sought
his usual remedy for dispelling ennui by a walk to the Manse, where he
was sure, that, if he could not succeed in engaging the minister himself
in some disputation, he would at least find something in the
establishment to animadvert upon and to restore to order.
Accordingly, he had taken the opportunity to lecture the younger of the
minister's lasses upon the duty of wearing shoes and stockings; and, as
his advice came fortified by a present of six pair of white cotton hose,
and two pair of stout leathern shoes, it was received, not with respect
only, but with gratitude, and the chuck under the chin that rounded up
the oration, while she opened the outer door for his honour, was
acknowledged with a blush and a giggle. Nay, so far did Grizzy carry her
sense of Mr. Touchwood's kindness, that, observing the moon was behind a
cloud, she very carefully offered to escort him to the Cleikum Inn with
a lantern, in case he should come to some harm by the gate. This the
traveller's independent spirit scorned to listen to; and, having briefly
assured her that he had walked the streets of Paris and of Madrid whole
nights without such an accommodation, he stoutly strode off on his
return to his lodgings.
An accident, however, befell him, which, unless the police of Madrid and
Paris be belied, might have happened in either of those two splendid
capitals, as well as in the miserable Aultoun of St. Ronan's. Before the
door of Saunders Jaup, a feuar of some importance, "who held his land
free, and caredna a bodle for any one," yawned that odoriferous gulf,
ycleped, in Scottish phrase, the jawhole; in other words, an uncovered
common sewer. The local situation of this receptacle of filth was well
known to Mr. Touchwood; for Saunders Jaup was at the very head of those
who held out for the practices of their fathers, and still maintained
those ancient and unsavoury customs which our traveller had in so many
instances succeeded in abating. Guided, therefore, by his nose, the
Nabob made a considerable circuit to avoid the displeasure and danger of
passing this filthy puddle at the nearest, and by that means fell upon
Scylla as he sought to avoid Charybdis. In plain language, he approached
so near the bank of a little rivulet, which in that place passed betwixt
the footpath and the horse-road, that he lost his footing, and fell into
the channel of the streamlet from a height of three or four feet. It was
thought that the noise of his fall, or at least his call for assistance,
must have been heard in the house of Saunders Jaup; but that honest
person was, according to his own account, at that time engaged in the
exercise of the evening; an excuse which passed current, although
Saunders was privately heard to allege, that the town would have been
the quieter, "if the auld, meddling busybody had bidden still in the
burn for gude and a'."
But Fortune had provided better for poor Touchwood, whose foibles, as
they arose out of the most excellent motives, would have ill deserved so
severe a fate. A passenger, who heard him shout for help, ventured
cautiously to the side of the bank, down which he had fallen; and, after
ascertaining the nature of the ground as carefully as the darkness
permitted, was at length, and not without some effort, enabled to assist
him out of the channel of the rivulet.
"Are you hurt materially?" said this good Samaritan to the object of his
care.
"No--no--d--n it--no," said Touchwood, extremely angry at his disaster,
and the cause of it. "Do you think I, who have been at the summit of
Mount Athos, where the precipice sinks a thousand feet on the sea, care
a farthing about such a fall as this is?"
But, as he spoke, he reeled, and his kind assistant caught him by the
arm to prevent his falling.
"I fear you are more hurt than you suppose, sir," said the stranger:
"permit me to go home along with you."
"With all my heart," said Touchwood; "for though it is impossible I can
need help in such a foolish matter, yet I am equally obliged to you,
friend; and if the Cleikum Inn be not out of your road, I will take your
arm so far, and thank you to the boot."
"It is much at your service, sir," said the stranger; "indeed, I was
thinking to lodge there for the night."
"I am glad to hear it," resumed Touchwood; "you shall be my guest, and I
will make them look after you in proper fashion--You seem to be a very
civil sort of fellow, and I do not find your arm inconvenient--it is the
rheumatism makes me walk so ill--the pest of all that have been in hot
climates when they settle among these d--d fogs."
"Lean as hard and walk as slow as you will, sir," said the benevolent
assistant--"this is a rough street."
"Yes, sir--and why is it rough?" answered Touchwood. "Why, because the
old pig-headed fool, Saunders Jaup, will not allow it to be made smooth.
There he sits, sir, and obstructs all rational improvement; and, if a
man would not fall into his infernal putrid gutter, and so become an
abomination to himself and odious to others, for his whole life to come,
he runs the risk of breaking his neck, as I have done to-night."
"I am afraid, sir," said his companion, "you have fallen on the most
dangerous side.--You remember Swift's proverb, 'The more dirt, the less
hurt.'"
"But why should there be either dirt or hurt in a well-regulated place?"
answered Touchwood--"Why should not men be able to go about their
affairs at night, in such a hamlet as this, without either endangering
necks or noses?--Our Scottish magistrates are worth nothing, sir--nothing
at all. Oh for a Turkish Cadi, now, to trounce the scoundrel--or the
Mayor of Calcutta to bring him into his court--or were it but an English
Justice of the Peace that is newly included in the commission, they
would abate the villain's nuisance with a vengeance on him!--But here we
are--this is the Cleikum Inn.--Hallo--hilloa--house!--Eppie
Anderson!--Beenie Chambermaid!--boy Boots!--Mrs. Dods!--are you all of
you asleep and dead?--Here have I been half murdered, and you let me
stand bawling at the door!"
Eppie Anderson came with a light, and so did Beenie Chambermaid with
another; but no sooner did they look upon the pair who stood in the
porch under the huge sign that swung to and fro with heavy creaking,
than Beenie screamed, flung away her candle, although a four in the
pound, and in a newly japanned candlestick, and fled one way, while
Eppie Anderson, echoing the yell, brandished her light round her head
like a Bacchante flourishing her torch, and ran off in another
direction.
"Ay--I must be a bloody spectacle," said Mr. Touchwood, letting himself
fall heavily upon his assistant's shoulder, and wiping his face, which
trickled with wet--"I did not think I had been so seriously hurt; but I
find my weakness now--I must have lost much blood."
"I hope you are still mistaken," said the stranger; "but here lies the
way to the kitchen--we shall find light there, since no one chooses to
bring it to us."
[Illustration]
He assisted the old gentleman into the kitchen, where a lamp, as well as
a bright fire, was burning, by the light of which he could easily
discern that the supposed blood was only water of the rivulet, and,
indeed, none of the cleanest, although much more so than the sufferer
would have found it a little lower, where the stream is joined by the
superfluities of Saunders Jaup's palladium. Relieved by his new
friend's repeated assurances that such was the case, the Senior began to
bustle up a little, and his companion, desirous to render him every
assistance, went to the door of the kitchen to call for a basin and
water. Just as he was about to open the door, the voice of Mrs. Dods was
heard as she descended the stairs, in a tone of indignation by no means
unusual to her, yet mingled at the same time with a few notes that
sounded like unto the quaverings of consternation.
"Idle limmers--silly sluts--I'll warrant nane o' ye will ever see ony
thing waur than yoursell, ye silly tawpies--Ghaist, indeed!--I'll
warrant it's some idle dub-skelper frae the Waal, coming after some o'
yoursells on nae honest errand--Ghaist, indeed!--Haud up the candle,
John Ostler--I'se warrant it a twa-handed ghaist, and the door left on
the sneck. There's somebody in the kitchen--gang forward wi' the
lantern, John Ostler."
At this critical moment the stranger opened the door of the kitchen, and
beheld the Dame advancing at the head of her household troops. The
ostler and humpbacked postilion, one bearing a stable-lantern and a
hay-fork, the other a rushlight and a broom, constituted the advanced
guard; Mrs. Dods herself formed the centre, talking loud and brandishing
a pair of tongs; while the two maids, like troops not to be much trusted
after their recent defeat, followed, cowering in the rear. But
notwithstanding this admirable disposition, no sooner had the stranger
shown his face, and pronounced the words "Mrs. Dods!" than a panic
seized the whole array. The advanced guard recoiled in consternation,
the ostler upsetting Mrs. Dods in the confusion of his retreat; while
she, grappling with him in her terror, secured him by the ears and
hair, and they joined their cries together in hideous chorus. The two
maidens resumed their former flight, and took refuge in the darksome
den, entitled their bedroom, while the humpbacked postilion fled like
the wind into the stable, and, with professional instinct, began, in the
extremity of his terror, to saddle a horse.
Meanwhile, the guest whose appearance had caused this combustion,
plucked the roaring ostler from above Mrs. Dods, and pushing him away
with a hearty slap on the shoulder, proceeded to raise and encourage the
fallen landlady, enquiring, at the same time, "What, in the devil's
name, was the cause of all this senseless confusion?"
"And what is the reason, in Heaven's name," answered the matron, keeping
her eyes firmly shut, and still shrewish in her expostulation, though in
the very extremity of terror, "what is the reason that you should come
and frighten a decent house, where you met naething, when ye was in the
body, but the height of civility?"
"And why should I frighten you, Mrs. Dods? or, in one word, what is the
meaning of all this nonsensical terror?"
"Are not you," said Mrs. Dods, opening her eyes a little as she spoke,
"the ghaist of Francis Tirl?"
"I am Francis Tyrrel, unquestionably, my old friend."
"I kend it! I kend it!" answered the honest woman, relapsing into her
agony; "and I think ye might be ashamed of yourself, that are a ghaist,
and have nae better to do than to frighten a puir auld alewife."
"On my word, I am no ghost, but a living man," answered Tyrrel.
"Were ye no murdered than?" demanded Mrs. Dods, still in an uncertain
voice, and only partially opening her eyes--"Are ye very sure ye werena
murdered?"
"Why, not that ever I heard of, certainly, dame," replied Tyrrel.
"But _I_ shall be murdered presently," said old Touchwood from the
kitchen, where he had hitherto remained a mute auditor of this
extraordinary scene--"_I_ shall be murdered, unless you fetch me some
water without delay."
"Coming, sir, coming," answered Dame Dods, her professional reply being
as familiar to her as that of poor Francis's "Anon, anon, sir." "As I
live by honest reckonings," said she, fully collecting herself, and
giving a glance of more composed temper at Tyrrel, "I believe it _is_
yoursell, Maister Frank, in blood and body after a'--And see if I dinna
gie a proper sorting to yon twa silly jauds that gard me mak a bogle of
you, and a fule of mysell--Ghaists! my certie, I sall ghaist them--If
they had their heads as muckle on their wark as on their daffing, they
wad play nae sic pliskies--it's the wanton steed that scaurs at the
windle-strae--Ghaists! wha e'er heard of ghaists in an honest house?
Naebody need fear bogles that has a conscience void of offence.--But I
am blithe that MacTurk hasna murdered ye when a' is done, Maister
Francie."
"Come this way, Mother Dods, if you would not have me do a mischief!"
exclaimed Touchwood, grasping a plate which stood on the dresser, as if
he were about to heave it at the landlady, by way of recalling her
attention.
"For the love of Heaven, dinna break it!" exclaimed the alarmed
landlady, knowing that Touchwood's effervescence of impatience sometimes
expended itself at the expense of her crockery, though it was afterwards
liberally atoned for. "Lord, sir, are ye out of your wits!--it breaks a
set, ye ken--Godsake, put doun the cheeny plate, and try your hand on
the delf-ware!--it will just make as good a jingle--But, Lord haud a
grip o' us! now I look at ye, what can hae come ower ye, and what sort
of a plight are ye in!--Wait till I fetch water and a towel."
In fact, the miserable guise of her new lodger now overcame the dame's
curiosity to enquire after the fate of her earlier acquaintance, and she
gave her instant and exclusive attention to Mr. Touchwood, with many
exclamations, while aiding him to perform the task of ablution and
abstersion. Her two fugitive handmaidens had by this time returned to
the kitchen, and endeavoured to suppress a smuggled laugh at the
recollection of their mistress's panic, by acting very officiously in
Mr. Touchwood's service. By dint of washing and drying, the token of the
sable stains was at length removed, and the veteran became, with some
difficulty, satisfied that he had been more dirtied and frightened than
hurt.
Tyrrel, in the meantime, stood looking on with wonder, imagining that he
beheld in the features which emerged from a mask of mud, the countenance
of an old friend. After the operation was ended, he could not help
addressing himself to Mr. Touchwood, to demand whether he had not the
pleasure to see a friend, to whom he had been obliged when at Smyrna,
for some kindness respecting his money matters?
"Not worth speaking of--not worth speaking of," said Touchwood, hastily.
"Glad to see you, though--glad to see you.--Yes, here I am; you will
find me the same good-natured old fool that I was at Smyrna--never look
how I am to get in money again--always laying it out. Never mind--it was
written in my forehead, as the Turk says.--I will go up now and change
my dress--you will sup with me when I come back--Mrs. Dods will toss us
up something--a brandered fowl will be best, Mrs. Dods, with some
mushrooms, and get us a jug of mulled wine--plottie, as you call it--to
put the recollection of the old Presbyterian's common sewer out of my
head."
So saying, up stairs marched the traveller to his own apartment, while
Tyrrel, seizing upon a candle, was about to do the same.
"Mr. Touchwood is in the blue room, Mrs. Dods; I suppose I may take
possession of the yellow one?"
"Suppose naething about the matter, Maister Francis Tirl, till ye tell
me downright where ye have been a' this time, and whether ye hae been
murdered or no?"
"I think you may be pretty well satisfied of that, Mrs. Dods?"
"Trot! and so I am in a sense; and yet it gars me grue to look upon ye,
sae mony days and weeks it has been since I thought ye were rotten in
the moulds. And now to see ye standing before me hale and feir, and
crying for a bedroom like ither folk!"
"One would almost suppose, my good friend," said Tyrrel, "that you were
sorry at my having come alive again."
"It's no for that," replied Mrs. Dods, who was peculiarly ingenious in
the mode of framing and stating what she conceived to be her grievances;
"but is it no a queer thing for a decent man like yoursell, Maister
Tirl, to be leaving your lodgings without a word spoken, and me put to
a' these charges in seeking for your dead body, and very near taking my
business out of honest Maister Bindloose's hands, because he kend the
cantrips of the like of you better than I did?--And than they hae putten
up an advertisement down at the Waal yonder, wi' a' their names at it,
setting ye forth, Maister Francie, as are of the greatest blackguards
unhanged; and wha, div ye think, is to keep ye in a creditable house, if
that's the character ye get?"
"You may leave that to me, Mrs. Dods--I assure you that matter shall be
put to rights to your satisfaction; and I think, so long as we have
known each other, you may take my word that I am not undeserving the
shelter of your roof for a single night, (I shall ask it no longer,)
until my character is sufficiently cleared. It was for that purpose
chiefly I came back again."
"Came back again!" said Mrs. Dods.--"I profess ye made me start, Maister
Tirl, and you looking sae pale, too.--But I think," she added, straining
after a joke, "if ye were a ghaist, seeing we are such auld
acquaintance, ye wadna wish to spoil my custom, but would just walk
decently up and down the auld castle wa's, or maybe down at the kirk
yonder--there have been awfu' things done in that kirk and kirkyard--I
whiles dinna like to look that way, Maister Francie."
"I am much of your mind, mistress," said Tyrrel, with a sigh; "and,
indeed, I do in one resemble the apparitions you talk of; for, like
them, and to as little purpose, I stalk about scenes where my happiness
departed.--But I speak riddles to you, Mrs. Dods--the plain truth is,
that I met with an accident on the day I last left your house, the
effects of which detained me at some distance from St. Ronan's till this
very day."
"Hegh, sirs, and ye were sparing of your trouble, that wadna write a bit
line, or send a bit message!--Ye might hae thought folk wad hae been
vexed eneugh about ye, forby undertaking journeys, and hiring folk to
seek for your dead body."
"I shall willingly pay all reasonable charges which my disappearance may
have occasioned," answered her guest; "and I assure you, once for all,
that my remaining for some time quiet at Marchthorn, arose partly from
illness, and partly from business of a very pressing and particular
nature."
"At Marchthorn!" exclaimed Dame Dods, "heard ever man the like o'
that!--And where did ye put up in Marchthorn, an ane may mak' bauld to
speer?"
"At the Black Bull," replied Tyrrel.
"Ay, that's auld Tam Lowrie's--a very decent man, Thamas--and a douce
creditable house--nane of your flisk-ma-hoys--I am glad ye made choice
of sic gude quarters, neighbour; for I am beginning to think ye are but
a queer ane--ye look as if butter wadna melt in your mouth, but I sall
warrant cheese no choke ye.--But I'll thank ye to gang your ways into
the parlour, for I am no like to get muckle mair out o' ye, it's like;
and ye are standing here just in the gate, when we hae the supper to
dish."
Tyrrel, glad to be released from the examination to which his landlady's
curiosity had without ceremony subjected him, walked into the parlour,
where he was presently joined by Mr. Touchwood, newly attired, and in
high spirits.
"Here comes our supper!" he exclaimed.--"Sit ye down, and let us see
what Mrs. Dods has done for us.--I profess, mistress, your plottie is
excellent, ever since I taught you to mix the spices in the right
proportion."
"I am glad the plottie pleases ye, sir--but I think I kend gay weel how
to make it before I saw your honour--Maister Tirl can tell that, for
mony a browst of it I hae brewed lang syne for him and the callant
Valentine Bulmer."
This ill-timed observation extorted a groan from Tyrrel; but the
traveller, running on with his own recollections, did not appear to
notice his emotion.
"You are a conceited old woman," said Mr. Touchwood; "how the devil
should any one know how to mix spices so well as he who has been where
they grow?--I have seen the sun ripening nutmegs and cloves, and here,
it can hardly fill a peasecod, by Jupiter. Ah, Tyrrel, the merry nights
we have had at Smyrna!--Gad, I think the gammon and the good wine taste
all the better in a land where folks hold them to be sinful
indulgences--Gad, I believe many a good Moslem is of the same
opinion--that same prohibition of their prophet's gives a flavour to the
ham, and a relish to the Cyprus.--Do you remember old Cogia Hassein,
with his green turban?--I once played him a trick, and put a pint of
brandy into his sherbet. Egad, the old fellow took care never to
discover the cheat until he had got to the bottom of the flagon, and
then he strokes his long white beard, and says, 'Ullah Kerim,'--that
is, 'Heaven is merciful,' Mrs. Dods, Mr. Tyrrel knows the meaning of
it.--Ullah Kerim, says he, after he had drunk about a gallon of
brandy-punch!--Ullah Kerim, says the hypocritical old rogue, as if he
had done the finest thing in the world!"
"And what for no? What for shouldna the honest man say a blessing after
his drap punch?" demanded Mrs. Dods; "it was better, I ween, than
blasting, and blawing, and swearing, as if folks shouldna be thankful
for the creature comforts."
"Well said, old Dame Dods," replied the traveller; "that is a right
hostess's maxim, and worthy of Mrs. Quickly herself. Here is to thee,
and I pray ye to pledge me before ye leave the room."
"Troth, I'll pledge naebody the night, Maister Touchwood; for, what wi'
the upcast and terror that I got a wee while syne, and what wi' the bit
taste that I behoved to take of the plottie while I was making it, my
head is sair eneugh distressed the night already.--Maister Tirl, the
yellow room is ready for ye when ye like; and, gentlemen, as the morn is
the Sabbath, I canna be keeping the servant queans out of their beds to
wait on ye ony langer, for they will mak it an excuse for lying till
aught o'clock on the Lord's day. So, when your plottie is done, I'll be
muckle obliged to ye to light the bedroom candles, and put out the
double moulds, and e'en show yoursells to your beds; for douce folks,
sic as the like of you, should set an example by ordinary.--And so,
gude-night to ye baith."
"By my faith," said Touchwood, as she withdrew, "our dame turns as
obstinate as a Pacha with three tails!--We have her gracious permission
to finish our mug, however; so here is to your health once more, Mr.
Tyrrel, wishing you a hearty welcome to your own country."
"I thank you, Mr. Touchwood," answered Tyrrel; "and I return you the
same good wishes, with, as I sincerely hope, a much greater chance of
their being realized.--You relieved me, sir, at a time when the villainy
of an agent, prompted, as I have reason to think, by an active and
powerful enemy, occasioned my being, for a time, pressed for funds.--I
made remittances to the _Ragion_ you dealt with, to acquit myself at
least of the pecuniary part of my obligation; but the bills were
returned, because, it was stated, you had left Smyrna."
"Very true--very true--left Smyrna, and here I am in Scotland--as for
the bills, we will speak of them another time--something due for picking
me out of the gutter."
"I shall make no deduction on that account," said Tyrrel, smiling,
though in no jocose mood; "and I beg you not to mistake me. The
circumstances of embarrassment, under which you found me at Smyrna, were
merely temporary--I am most able and willing to pay my debt; and, let me
add, I am most desirous to do so."
"Another time--another time," said Mr. Touchwood--"time enough before
us, Mr. Tyrrel--besides, at Smyrna, you talked of a lawsuit--law is a
lick-penny, Mr. Tyrrel--no counsellor like the pound in purse."
"For my lawsuit," said Tyrrel, "I am fully provided."
"But have you good advice?--Have you good advice?" said Touchwood;
"answer me that."
"I have advised with my lawyers," answered Tyrrel, internally vexed to
find that his friend was much disposed to make his generosity upon the
former occasion a pretext for prying farther into his affairs now than
he thought polite or convenient.
"With your counsel learned in the law--eh, my dear boy? But the advice
you should take is of some travelled friend, well acquainted with
mankind and the world--some one that has lived double your years, and is
maybe looking out for some bare young fellow that he may do a little
good to--one that might be willing to help you farther than I can
pretend to guess--for, as to your lawyer, you get just your guinea's
worth from him--not even so much as the baker's bargain, thirteen to the
dozen."
"I think I should not trouble myself to go far in search of a friend
such as you describe," said Tyrrel, who could not affect to
misunderstand the senior's drift, "when I was near Mr. Peregrine
Touchwood; but the truth is, my affairs are at present so much
complicated with those of others, whose secrets I have no right to
communicate, that I cannot have the advantage of consulting you, or any
other friend. It is possible I may be soon obliged to lay aside this
reserve, and vindicate myself before the whole public. I will not fail,
when that time shall arrive, to take an early opportunity of
confidential communication with you."
"That is right--confidential is the word--No person ever made a
confidant of me who repented it--Think what the Pacha might have made of
it, had he taken my advice, and cut through the Isthmus of Suez.--Turk
and Christian, men of all tongues and countries, used to consult old
Touchwood, from the building of a mosque down to the settling of an
_agio_.--But come--Good-night--good-night."
So saying, he took up his bedroom light, and extinguished one of those
which stood on the table, nodded to Tyrrel to discharge his share of the
duty imposed by Mrs. Dods with the same punctuality, and they withdrew
to their several apartments, entertaining very different sentiments of
each other.
"A troublesome, inquisitive old gentleman," said Tyrrel to himself; "I
remember him narrowly escaping the bastinado at Smyrna, for thrusting
his advice on the Turkish cadi--and then I lie under a considerable
obligation to him, giving him a sort of right to annoy me--Well, I must
parry his impertinence as I can."
"A shy cock this Frank Tyrrel," thought the traveller; "a very complete
dodger!--But no matter--I shall wind him, were he to double like a
fox--I am resolved to make his matters my own, and if _I_ cannot carry
him through, I know not who can."
Having formed this philanthropic resolution, Mr. Touchwood threw himself
into bed, which luckily declined exactly at the right angle, and, full
of self-complacency, consigned himself to slumber.