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_Nancy Stair_
_A NOVEL_
_By ELINOR MACARTNEY LANE_
_Author of "Mills of God"_
_A. L. BURT COMPANY, Publishers
NEW YORK_
COPYRIGHT, 1904, BY
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY
_Published May, 1904_
_To_ Frank Brett Noyes
_Who accepted, with a kind letter,
The first story I ever wrote,
This tale of_ Nancy Stair _is dedicated,
As a tribute of affection,
From one old friend to another._
"For woman is not undeveloped man,
But diverse; could we make her as the man,
Sweet Love were slain: his dearest bond is this,
Not like to like, but like in difference."
TENNYSON.
"Auld Nature swears, the lovely dears,
Her noblest work she classes, O,
Her 'prentice hand she tried on man,
And then she made the lasses, O."
ROBERT BURNS.
"Ye can't educate women as you can men. They're
elemental creatures; and ye can no more change their
natures than ye can stop fire from burning."
HUGH PITCAIRN.
PREFACE BY LORD STAIR
Two excellent accounts of the beautiful Nancy Stair have already been
published; the first by Mrs. George Opie, in the Scots News, giving a
detailed account of the work on the burnside, and a more recent one by
Professor Erskine, of our own University, which is little more than a
critical dissertation upon Nancy as a poet; the heart of the matter
with him being to commend her English verses, as well as those in "gude
braid Scot."
With these accounts to be secured so easily it may seem presumptuous,
as well as superfluous, for me to undertake a third. I state at the
outset, therefore, that it is beyond my ambition and my abilities to
add a word to stories told so well. Nor do I purpose to mention either
the work on the burn or Nancy's song-making, save when necessary for
clearness.
For me, however, the life of Nancy Stair has a far deeper significance
than that set forth by either of these gifted authors. My knowledge of
her was naturally of the most intimate; I watched her grow from a
wonderful child into a wonderful woman; and saw her, with a man's
education, none but men for friends, and no counselings save from her
own heart, solve most wisely for the race the problem put to every
woman of gift; and with sweetest reasoning and no bitter renouncings
enter the kingdom of great womanhood.
To tell this intimate side of her life with what skill I have is the
chief purpose of my writing, but there are two other motives almost as
strong. The first of these is to clear away the mystery of the murder
which for so long clouded our lives at Stair. To do this there is no
man in Scotland to-day so able as myself. It was I who bid the Duke to
Stair; the quarrel which brought on the meeting fell directly beneath
my eyes; I heard the shots and found the dead upon that fearful night,
and afterward went blindfolded through the bitter business of the
trial. I was the first, as well, to scent the truth at the bottom of
the defense, and have in my possession, as I write, the confession
which removed all doubt as to the manner in which the deed was
committed.
The second reason is to set clear Nancy's relation to Robert Burns, of
which too much has been made, and whose influence upon her and her
writings has been grossly exaggerated. Her observation of natural
genius in him changed her greatly, and I have tried to set this forth
with clearness; but it affected her in a very different manner from
that which her two famous biographers have told, and I have it from her
own lips that it was because of the Burns episode that she stopped
writing altogether.
If it be complained against me that the tale has my own life's story in
it, I would answer to the charge that only a great and passionate first
love could have produced a child like Nancy, and I believe that the
world is ever a bit interested in the line of people whose loves and
hates have produced a recognized genius. Then, too, the circumstances
attending her birth had more influence on her after life than may at
first be seen, giving me as they did such a tenderness for her that I
have never been able to cross her in any matter whatever.
Much of the story, of which I was not directly a witness, comes from
Nancy herself. I have sent the tale to Alexander Carmichael as well,
and in all important matters his recollections accord with mine.
There came to me but yesterday, in this queer old city, a letter from
him urging me back to Stair, closed with a stanza that was not born to
die:
"Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to min',
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And the days of Auld Lang Syne?"
They should not, Sandy, and none know it better than we; and I long for
a grip of your hand, lad, and to feel the winds blow through the rowans
at Stair and the copper birches of Arran; to hear the blackbirds
whistle across the gowan-tops; to see the busy burn-folk through the
break in the old south wall; and with the ending of these writings my
steps are turned toward home.
ROME, 1801.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I.--AT STAIR HOUSE, NEAR EDINBURGH, IN 1768 1
II.--I GO ON A CRUISE AND FIND A HIDDEN TREASURE 15
III.--THE TREASURE BECOMES MINE, BUT IS CLAIMED BY ITS OWNER 29
IV.--ENTER NANCY STAIR 41
V.--I MAKE THE ACQUAINTANCE OF A STRANGE CHILD 53
VI.--NANCY BEGINS HER STUDY OF THE LAW 61
VII.--I TAKE NANCY'S EDUCATION IN HAND 74
VIII.--THE DAFT DAYS 86
IX.--DANVERS BECOMES BETTER ACQUAINTED WITH NANCY 105
X.--NANCY VISITS HIS GRACE OF BORTHWICKE 124
XI.--DANVERS CARMICHAEL MAKES A PROPOSAL 142
XII.--I MEET A GREAT MAN 159
XIII.--THE DUKE VISITS STAIR FOR THE FIRST TIME 166
XIV.--NANCY MEETS HER RIVAL 174
XV.--CONCERNING DANVERS CARMICHAEL AND HIS GRACE OF BORTHWICKE 185
XVI.--NANCY STAIR ARRANGES MATTERS 204
XVII.--"THE SWAP O' RHYMING WARE" 213
XVIII.--I GO DOWN TO MAUCHLINE 232
XIX.--THE QUARREL BETWEEN DANVERS AND NANCY 241
XX.--DANVERS GIVES US A GREAT SURPRISE 259
XXI.--THE ALLISONS' BALL AND THAT WHICH FOLLOWED IT 268
XXII.--A STRANGE MEETING 286
XXIII.--A FALSE RUMOR CAUSES TROUBLE 298
XXIV.--THE MURDER 307
XXV.--THE TRIAL 324
XXVI.--THE DEFENSE 351
XXVII.--THE MISTS ALL CLEARED AWAY 361
NANCY STAIR
CHAPTER I
AT STAIR HOUSE, NEAR EDINBURGH, IN 1768
By reason of a breakneck ride through the Pentlands, I entered the
dining-room at Stair very late one morning to find Huey MacGrath in a
state of deepest gloom waiting to serve my breakfast.
"Good morning, Huey," I said, opening The Glasgow Sentinel which had
come by the post.
"Good morning, my lord," he returned, in a grudging tone.
"It's a fine morning," said I.
"Ye think sae!" with a show of great surprise.
"Why, man!" I cried, "can not ye see for yourself?"
"We've the spring rains to come yet."
"They're by these ten days," I answered.
"Nae, nae," he said quietly. "That was jest the equinoctial, I'm
thinking."
"The equinoctial comes in March, man!" I observed with some surprise.
"Tammas was telling me yesterday that the roads to London were fair
impassable."
"Nonsense," said I. "The summer's here, Huey."
"There's a chill at the gloamin', yet. Nae, nae," he went on earnestly,
"simmer's far awa',--I've seen snaw's late's this!"
"Ye've had wonderful eyesight," I laughed, seeing the point toward
which this talk was aimed. "And did ye hear nothing of tidal waves,
Huey?" I asked; "with impassable roads to London, and snow in June,
you've surely heard of some disasters by sea."
"Ah!" he cried, "ye can tell of what I'm thinking, for I've seen the
signs of it in ye for a fortnight back. You're like your father before
you, and your grandfather, as weel, for the curse of wandering seems to
follow the name of Stair. With the first warm day ye have your windows
wide open; and next your beds are into a draught fit to blaw ye from
between the sheets; and then ye're up in the morning, aff on a hoorse
scouring the hills as tho' ye were gyte; and at the end your valise's
packed, the coach stopped, and ye aff amang the heathen, Gude alane
kens wheer!
"Ah, laddie!" he continued, his voice changed to an affectionate wail,
"dinna be gane awa'! Ye've niver seen Stair in the simmer time; but
when the elderberries and lilacs flower on the burn; and the gilly
flowers and hollyhocks are bloomin' by the north tower; when the wind
blows soft through the rowans, and the pineys' pink and white faces, as
big as cabbages, nod against the old south wall, there's no bonnier
place in Scotland than your own place of Stair."
He was so moved at the thought of my leaving him, that I answered in
some haste,
"In truth, Huey, I've no thought of going away."
"Ah," he answered, "ye don't know it, but ye have. It's been in ye for
a week back,"--and casting his eye out of the window, "there's Mr.
Carmichael now, riding in by the Holm gate. I'll jest open the door
till him."
This was an entirely unnecessary attention on Huey's part, as Sandy
Carmichael, whose estate of Arran Towers joins my own on the west,
generally opened the door of Stair for himself, or the windows either,
for the matter of that, if the latter were more convenient entrance
from the place he happened to be.
My recollections of Sandy begin with my recollections of myself. As
lads together, indeed before we were long out of skirts, we guddled for
fish in the burn-water; went birds' nesting, raced our ponies, fought
each other behind the stables and made a common stock of our money for
the purchase of dimpies, peoys and jelly-tarts. We attended the High
School together and upon leaving it chose the same college, where Sandy
ran a merry pace, throwing his money out of the windows, as it were,
and gaining for himself the reputation of wearing more waistcoats,
drinking more whisky, making love to more women, and writing better
verses, than any other man in the University.
He was a big, athletic, clean-limbed fellow, with brown hair, a bright
face, warm eyes, and friendly genial ways which came from the kindest
heart in the world. Five years before the time of which I write, which
would be in 1763, he had married the Honorable Miss Llewellyn from the
north, a pitiable pale-colored lady, who, half crazed by jealousy and
ill health, was sending him back to unmarried ways again. Being only
sister to Lord Glenmore, who had no heirs and was subject to seizures
of a very malignant type, it was yearly expected that the title would
come to Sandy's bit of a boy, a handsome-faced little fellow of four,
who paid me long visits at self-selected times, demanding my watch, a
pipe to smoke, and horses to ride.
Before Huey had time to reach the door, Sandy, in his riding clothes,
with his cap on the back of his head, stood looking in at me. There was
a scowl between his brows, and by this as well as other certain signs,
I knew that all was not well with him.
"Will ye go on a cruise with me?" says he from the doorway with no
introduction whatever.
"Would it be an unseemly prying into your affairs to ask where to?" I
inquired with a smile.
"North or south," said he, still keeping his place by the door. "It's
immaterial to me, so I escape accompanying my womenfolk to London."
"And if I go with ye," says I, "your wife will like me less than she
does now."
"That would be impossible, so ye needn't worry over it," he returned
dryly. "The only good word ye ever had from her was that if ye'd been a
less handsome man ye might have been a better one."
"And even that could scarce be termed fulsome flattery," I observed.
"Will ye go!" he repeated, his mind set on the one point.
A sudden thought, bred of some news in the paper which I had just
received, came to me upon the instant.
"Let us take the boat from Leith, and go north by the Orkney and
Hebrides Islands, through the Minch to the west coast. There are all
kinds of stories afloat concerning the gipsies and free traders who
live in those deep coves; we might fall in with a pirate ship----"
"Or find a hidden treasure!" he said scoffingly, as he seated himself
on the other side of the table and took some coffee, the frown gone,
and the Sandy I knew with the bright face and laughing eye back again.
"Aye," he went on in his humorous way, "I am convinced 'twill be hidden
treasure we'll find, Jock. We'll go ashore at midnight, and under a
stunted pine will be a sailor's chest. Hidden treasures are always
found in sailors' chests, ye know. And taking a three-foot bar of iron,
which every gentleman in tales carries concealed upon his person, we,
you and I,--none of the others, of course,--will pry this chest
open--to find ducats and doubloons, and piastres, and sous-marquees--and
a map of the Spanish Main and the Dry Tortugas--with crosses in blood.
I'll tell you, ye can have my share of it now," he cried, laughing at
me.
"Ye're over generous," says I, for jesting of this kind was a thing to
which I was accustomed in him.
He dropped the raillery on the moment, however, to take a note-book
from his pocket.
"Whom shall we ask?" he inquired in his natural voice.
Now I had one other friend, almost as dear to me as Sandy, named Hugh
Pitcairn. But while there could be no doubt of the affection each had
for me, there could be equally no doubt of the dislike they bore each
other, this feeling having grown from the first day they met in the
hockey grounds of the High School, where almost at sight of each other
they fell to fighting, until finally pulled apart by some of the older
lads.
"In this connection," said I, getting back at him a bit, for his
jeering at my plans, "what do you think of Hugh Pitcairn?"
"In this connection," he returned dryly, "I do not think of Hugh
Pitcairn at all."
"It's strange," I went on, in the same remote tone, as though it were a
subject mentioned for the first time, "that ye should dislike him so."
"It can not match the strangeness of any one's enduring his society,"
he replied with heat.
"Well, well," said I, putting Pitcairn out of the talk. "What do you
say to Geordie MacAllister?"
"The very man," he cried, writing the name in the book.
"And Graham Annesley," I went on.
"Good again."
"And Donald McDonald."
"He won't do at all!" Sandy broke out in a determined way. "He's gone
the way of all trouble, which is the way of women. He's crazed about
the Lady Mary Llewellyn and we'll have no one along who is sighing for
a woman, be she his own or another man's wife. That's what I like in
you, Jock Stair," he said, gazing at me with approval. "Ye've your
faults----"
"No?" I said, with pretended amazement.
"Ye'd gamble on the flight of angels----"
"Ye're speaking of some one else, maybe," I suggested.
"And ye drink more than ye should,--but you're my own man where the
women are concerned; for never since I knew ye,--and that's ever since
ye were born,--have I seen ye look with wanting at maid, wife, or
widow, and ye're wise in that," he added in a tone whose bitterness
came from the unhappiness of his own wedded life.
To put the talk into a brighter channel, I hastened to suggest a fourth
and fifth companion for the cruise, upon which we fell to passing
judgment on the companionable men of our acquaintance, weighing their
congeniality to us and to each other until one o'clock was past before
we set about the business of delivering our invitations.
Offering to accompany Sandy on these errands, I thought I heard a
groan, and on leaving the dining-room I made sure of another, and on
the instant knew that they came from Huey MacGrath.
This expedition falling so quickly on the heels of his warning was an
odd occurrence and for some reason, perhaps in remembrance of my recent
assertion that I had no heart to leave Stair, there fell a funny
performance between us. He handed me my cap and coat, determined to
catch my eye, and I, having no desire to see the reproach which his
glance contained, was equally set to avoid it; so that I received my
cap with my eyes on my boots, my gloves with an averted head, and my
riding-stick looking out of the doorway, and mounted my horse with no
small resentment in my breast at this surveillance from a servant which
would never be borne in any spot outside of Scotland.
"I'm thinking," said I to Sandy as we rode toward the town gate, "I'm
thinking of discharging Huey when I come back."
"That will make the fifty-third time," said Sandy, with a grin, as he
started his horse off at a gallop.
After the visits with Sandy, I kept an engagement with Hugh Pitcairn at
the Star and Garter, just around the corner from the Tron Church, at
four o'clock of the same day. It was a few minutes past the hour as I
neared the place, to find him standing by the doorway, his back to the
passers by, a French cap pulled low over his eyes, reading from a
ponderous book which he was balancing with some difficulty against the
door-rail.
"I hope I've not kept ye waiting!" said I.
"Ye have kept me waiting," he answered, but with no resentment.
"I've been seeing some men about a cruise, and it took more time than I
thought," I explained by way of apology.
"You're off on a cruise?" he asked, as we seated ourselves at one of
the tables.
I nodded.
"With the Carmichael fellow, I suppose?" he asked.
"I am going with Mr. Carmichael," said I.
"Well, it's just _no_ thing for you to be doing at all," he
returned; "you should stay at home and look after your affairs. The
Carlyles have broken the entail, and you may be able to buy the land on
the other side of Burnwater that you've been wanting so long."
"And why can't you attend to the matter?" I cried. "Ye handle all my
business, and do it far better than I ever could, beside, I can leave
procuration----"
He smiled at this in an exasperatingly superior way as though I had
used the word loosely, and went on: "The estate itself is to be looked
to," and here he seemed to have learned his lesson out of Huey
MacGrath's book.
"As for the house," I broke in, "it's taken better care of in my
absence than when I am in it; and it's money in my pocket to leave
matters with MacGrath to manage. I can not see," I said with some heat,
perhaps helped by the brandy I was drinking, "why in heaven's name I
shouldn't go on a cruise if I desire to! If I'd ties of any kind, a
wife or children----"
This was Pitcairn's chance, and he broke my talk to take it.
"Your friend Carmichael has both, and to them his first duty lies." And
any one with his wits about him can imagine the rest of the talk, for
he fell into an attitude of strong disapproval of the whole plan;
stating in a cold legal way that Sandy had already let me in for more
than one trouble; had caused me to spend large sums of money, foolishly
doing the like himself; that we were both incapable of good husbandry;
given to drinking more than was wise, and over fond of the society of
persons whom we were pleased to call men of talent, but who were, by
his judgment, doggerel-making people, of loose morals, with no respect
for fact, the conduct which became the general, or the laws of Christ.
He went over for the twentieth time Sandy's arrest for pulling off most
of the door-knockers in Edinburgh; this event having occurred when the
lad was but sixteen and home for the vacation; as well as the scandal
of his having bid the Lord President in a high and excited voice to
stick his head out of the window, and upon that venerable gentleman
complying, shouting: "Now stick it in again!"
At the end of this discourse he invited me to remain at home with him
and spend the evenings over a new treatise on the Laws of Evidence
which he had just brought from the University, at which I laughed in
his face and told him that I had neither the wit nor the inclination
for such an enterprise. His last words were to the effect that there
would be trouble bred of the expedition, and he closed his harangue in
the following manner, as we stood on the South Bridge, where our ways
parted:
"The Carmichael man has no judgment either for your affairs or his own.
His heart may be all right, but he's got no common sense, and a man
like that is little better than a fool."