HOW CLERMISTONLEE PRESSED HIS SUIT.
A strong dose of love is worse than one of ratafia; when once it gets
into our heads it trips up our heels, and then good night to
discretion. THE LYING VALET.
From an uneasy slumber that had been disturbed by many a painful
dream, Lilian started, awoke, and leaped from the bed. The embers of
the night fire still smouldered on the hearth stone, and the rays of
the red sun rising above a gorge in the Corstorphine hills, radiated
through her grated window as through a focus. Pressing her hands
upon her temples, she endeavoured to collect the scattered images
that had haunted her sleep. She had dreamt of Walter. He seemed to
be present in that very chamber, to stand by her gloomy bed, and
smiled kindly and fondly as of old. He bent over to kiss her, but
lo! his features turned to those of Lord Clermistonlee; the great
tester bed with its plumage and canopy became a hearse; she screamed
and awoke to find it was day.
Now all her former fear and indignation revived in full force, and
she wept passionately. Reflecting how completely she was at the
mercy of Clermistonlee, whose character for reckless ferocity, and
steady obstinacy of purpose, she knew too well; she resolved to
endure with patience, and await with caution an opportunity for
release or escape. How little she knew of what was acting in
Edinburgh! And her beloved kinswoman, so revered, so tender, and
affectionate, but so aged and infirm.
"O horror!" exclaimed Lilian, wringing her hands, "this must have
destroyed her."
"Open Madam Lilian," said the voice of Beatrix Gilruth, as she
knocked at the door; "open, my lord awaits you at breakfast in the
hall."
Lilian hesitated; but aware that resistance would not better her
fortune, with her usual frankness ran to the door, opened it, and
despite the repulsive sternness of Gilruth's aspect, impelled by a
sense of loneliness, and a wish to gain her friendship, she bade her
good morning, and lightly touched her hand. Her air of innocence and
candour impressed the misanthropic heart of Beatrix, and she smiled
kindly. While leading her before the mirror to assist in arraying
her for breakfast, the bosom of the unfortunate castaway could not
repress a sigh, and a scanty tear trembled in either eye, as she
writhed her withered fingers in the soft masses of Lilian's hair.
"I will shew thee my bairn what a braw busker I am," said Beatrix,
"though 'tis long since these poor fingers have had aught to do with
top-knots and fantanges."
Resigned and careless of what was done with her, Lilian remained with
a pale face of placid composure and grief, gazing unconsciously upon
her own beautiful image as reflected in the polished mirror; and
though she marked it not, there was a vivid and terrible contrast
between her statue-like features, and those of her tire-woman--keen,
attenuated, and graven with the lines of sorrow, rage, bitterness,
and misanthropy; the true index of that storm of evil passions and
resentful thoughts that smouldered in her heart.
At length the captive was arrayed so far as the skill of Beatrix
would go; her dress (that in which she had left home) was long,
flowing, and heavily flounced in the French fashion, derived from
Albert Durer, who represented an angel in flounced petticoats
expelling Adam and Eve from Paradise--hence flounces were all the
rage. She wore long and heavy ruffles of the richest lace, a string
of pearls and amber was twisted among the bright braids of her
beautiful hair; a diamond drop depended from each of her delicate
ears, and a rich necklace like a collar, with a pendant, encircled
her neck, the whiteness and purity of which never appeared in greater
splendour, than when contrasted with the faded skin of poor Beatrix.
Passive under her hands, Lilian allowed her great natural beauty to
be thus dangerously enhanced, and when she stood up, her rather
diminutive stature being increased by her high heeled maroquin shoes,
and the grace with which she wore her commode and floating flounces,
caused the poor woman, whom so many fair ones had successively
supplanted, to utter an exclamation of delight.
"Come," said she, "my lord awaits you; how pleased he will be."
"Oh my God!" exclaimed Lilian, in deep anguish; "and was it to please
him you have thus arrayed and attired me. Fie upon thee, ill woman!"
"Here at least his bidding must be obeyed implicitly, as when a
hundred of his men stabled their horses in the barbican stalls. He
is a dangerous man, hinny, and never tholed thwarting, though the
hour is coming when he shall thole bitter vengeance, and dree the
deepest remorse. But I bide my time--I bide my time."
As she led Lilian into the hall, Clermistonlee advanced to receive
her, with an imperturbable air of assurance, gallantry, and devotion.
Through one of the deeply recessed windows, the light of the morning
sun fell full upon his noble face and figure, which the richness of
his dress displayed to the utmost advantage. He wore an embroidered
suit of light blue satin slashed with white; he had round his neck
the gold collar of the thistle, and had over his left breast the
green ribbon and oval badge of the order; a diamond hilted rapier
sparkled in a baldrick that was stiff with gold embroidery; his
flowing peruke was redolent of perfume; his ruffles were miracles of
needlework, and his brilliant sleeve buttons flashed whenever his
hands moved.
Hateful as he was at all times to Lilian, now he was more so than
ever; surprise, indignation, fear, and contempt, agitated her by
turns, and she gazed on him in painful suspense, awaiting his
address. He had evidently made his toilet with more than usual care,
and resolving to give Lilian no time for reproaches, he led her at
once to a seat, saying,
"My dear girl will no doubt be in a prodigious passion with me, but
ladies are kindly disposed to forgive every little mistake that has
love for its excuse. 'Tis but a dismal old peelhouse this, dear
Lilian, but I hope you slept well. The wind sings in the corridors,
the corbies scream on the roof, and all that, but with a clear
conscience you know, oh yes, one may dose like a top, or a lord of
session.
"A clear sharp morning this; I rode as far as Craigroyston before
sunrise. There is nothing so improves one's complexion as a gallop
in the morning air. Apropos! what do you think of this embroidered
suit? 'Tis the last fashion from Paris; that old villain Saunders
Snip, in the Craimes, brought it direct from thence last month. On a
good figure it is quite calculated to make an impression. Look'ee,
fair Lilian; these ruffles cost me twenty guineas a pair, not a
tester less I assure you; and the sleeve buttons are the first of
their kind, and were made by Monsieur Bütong, the eminent Parisian
jeweller, for that glorious fop, the Comte d'Artois, who presented
them to a friend of mine in the Scots Archers.
"But this tie of my overlay, ha! that is a contrivance of my own;
graceful, is it not? exactly--I knew you would think so. Droll, is
it not, that our tastes should be the same? You see, my dear girl,
at what trouble I have been to please you. Smile again, dear
Lilian," continued his lordship, whose overnight potations, the
morning ride had failed quite to dispel; "by Heaven, you look divine:
where shall I find words to compliment the beauty of your appearance
this morning!"
"You really seem to require all your verbosity for praising yourself,
my lord," said Lilian, coldly.
"Now--now, do not be so angry," said Clermistonlee, taking her hand
in spite of all her efforts to prevent him.
"I am justly so, my lord," replied Lilian making a strong effort to
restrain her tears under an aspect of firmness and determination.
"By what right have you dared to bring me here and detain me
prisoner?"
"Hoity, toity--right dear Lilian? the right of a most devoted lover."
"My lord, you will be severely punished for this. The law----"
"Ha, ha! Lilian, there is no law now, no order, morality, nor any
thing else. The world is turned upside down, (at least Britain
is)--revolutionized, bewildered, and the old days of battle and
broil, reiving and rugging, have come back in all their glory. In
this desperate game, my girl," he added, through his clenched teeth,
"Clermistonlee must repair his fortune or be lost for ever; but
enough of this; let us to breakfast, and then we will talk over
matters that lie nearer our hearts. Nay, nay, no refusal--breakfast
you must have."
He led her towards the long hall table, where, thanks to Juden's
catering and ingenuity, a noble repast was laid, in the profuse
"style of ancient gourmandizing; and the unscrupulous factotum who
stood near with a napkin under his arm, and a long corkscrew in his
hand, surveyed Lilian with something between a smirk and a leer,
which was sufficient to increase the fear that oppressed, and the
anger that swelled within her breast. She withdrew, saying, with a
voice that trembled between indignation and apprehension,
"Spare me this continued humiliation. Oh my Lord Clermistonlee, if
there remain within your breast, one spark of that bright spirit
which ought ever to be the guiding star of the noble and the
gentleman, you will restore me to my home, to the only relative (save
one) whom death has left me in this wide world. Be generous, my
lord," continued Lilian, touching his hand, with charming frankness;
"Oh be generous, as I know you are brave and reckless. Restore me to
my home, and I pledge my word you will never be questioned concerning
my abduction. I will pass it over as a foolish but daring frolic.
Hear me, my lord, in pity hear me."
Clermistonlee trembled beneath her gentle touch; but answered with
his usual air of raillery,--
"Hoity, toity, little one! art going to read me curtain lectures
already? My dear Lilian, it is too bad really! The abduction? Oh
the ardour of my love will be a sufficient excuse for that; and as to
being questioned--I don't think any person will permit himself to
question me, if he remembers that I am the best hand at pistol,
rapier, and dagger, in broad Scotland.
"Beside, dear Lilian, (why dost always shrink? dost think child I am
going to eat thee like a rascally ogre) if thou wouldst save thine
honour," here his voice sank involuntarily into an impressive
whisper, "become mine. Thou shouldst be well aware that after living
in the power of one who is so tremendous a roué by habit and repute,
no woman could go forth into the world without lying under suspicions
of a very unpleasant nature. The roisters at Blair's coffee house
have got hold of the story, for it hath made a devil of a noise in
the city, and in the mouths of the Bowhead gossips, and Bess Wynd
scandal-mongers, our little affair will be quite a romance."
This cruel speech, which was uttered with the utmost coolness and
deliberation by Clermistonlee, who played the while with his gold
sword-knot, came like ice upon the heart of the unhappy Lilian, who
could not but secretly acknowledge that it was too true. She grew
pale as death, and, unable to reply, gazed upon her tormentor with a
look of such intense aversion, that he could not repress a haughty
smile of astonishment.
"Ha, ha! for what do you take me?"
"For a monster!" murmured Lilian, in a voice almost inarticulate.
"Oh--oh! you regard me as a poor sparrow doth a gerfalcon."
"Alas!" said Lilian, weeping as she sank into a seat, "the simile is
but too true."
"You are very unpolite, Madam Lilian; a gerfalcon is between the
vulture and the hawk."
Lilian answered only by her tears, and his lordship began to get a
little provoked.
"A devil of a breakfast this, my pretty moppet," he continued, with
an air of composure; "when these vapours have passed away,
peradventure you will condescend to hear my addresses--meantime
consider yourself quite at home, and for Heaven's sake (or rather
your own), do take a share of such humble cheer as this my poor house
of Clermiston affords." And without troubling her farther, he threw
back the curls of his peruke, and attacked the devilled duck, the
cold sirloin, and wassail-bowl of spiced ale, the smoking coffee and
hot bannocks forthwith.
Within the recess of a window, reclined upon the cushion of one of
those stone side-seats so common in old Scottish towers, Lilian sat
with her face covered with her hands, and shaded by the masses of her
fine hair which fell forward over her drooping head. The glory of
the red morning sun streamed full upon her tresses and turned them to
wreaths of gold. She seemed something etherially beautiful, and the
sensual lord felt his heart beat with increased ardour as he gazed on
her from time to time; but aware, from old experience, that it was
useless to press her to partake of his luxurious breakfast, he
resolved to trouble her no more until the first paroxism of her
indignation had evaporated.
Juden and Beatrix having finished their luggies of porridge and ale
at the lower and uncovered part of the table, were now engaged, the
former in making lures of feathers and raw meat to train two young
hawks that sat near him on a perch, with their long lunes or leashes
coiled round it; and the latter, while affecting to occupy herself
with some household matter, from the bay of an opposite window,
watched with a keen, restless, and often malicious expression, the
nonchalant lord and the unhappy Lilian, for whom, at times, she felt
something akin to pity, and fain would have set her at liberty; but
the keys of the tower gates were buckled to Juden's girdle, and every
window was closed by a grating like a strong iron harrow.
In the faint hope of some rescue approaching, Lilian gazed earnestly
from the window she occupied. It faced the south, and overlooked the
then dreary waste of Clermiston Lee, which, with all the undulating
country extending to the base of the Pentlands, and that gigantic
range, towering peak above peak, as they diminished in the western
shire of Linlithgow, were covered with one universal mantle of
dazzling snow. Afar off above the hills of Braid the level sun
poured its red rays through a hazy sky across the desolate landscape;
the thickets, bare and leafless, stood like cypress groves in the
waste; the dim winter smoke from many farm-house and cottage lum of
clay, ascended in murky columns into the frosty air, but around the
lonely tower on the Lee, there was an aspect of stillness and
desolation that struck a chill upon Lilian's heart.
Far off, on the Glasgow road, that passed the picturesque old church,
the thatched hamlet and Foresters' Castle of Corstorphine, a strong
square fortress flanked by round towers, a solitary traveller,
muffled in his furred rocquelaure and leathern gambadoes, or grey
maud and worsted galligaskins (according to his rank), spurred his
horse towards the city; but such occasional passers were all beyond
the reach of Lilian. The bridle-road to the town was hidden, and not
a foot-print stained the spotless mantle of the level Lee. At times
a hare or fox shot across it, from the woods or rocks of
Corstorphine, but no other living thing approached, and the heart of
poor Lilian grew more and more sad as the dreary day wore on, and
night once more approached.