THE COTTAGE OF ELSIE.
"Ha! honest nurse, where were my eyes before?
I know thy faithfulness and need no more."
ALLAN RAMSAY.
Several days elapsed without our tyrannical voluptuary being able to
do anything personally in the discovery, or persecution of the
Napiers. His wounded hand from neglect became extremely painful, and
his late debauch with Mersington had thrown him into a state so
feverish, that luckily he was compelled to keep within his own
apartments; but obstacles only inflamed his passion and exasperated
his obstinacy. It would be difficult to analyze the sentiments he
entertained towards Lilian Napier. Love, in the purer, nobler, and
more exalted idea of the passion he assuredly had not. His
overweening pride had been bitterly piqued by her hauteur. The
beauty of her person, and the inexpressible charm of her manner had
first attracted him, and, notwithstanding the studied coldness with
which he was treated, the passion of the roué got the better of
judgment. Lilian's great expectations, too, had farther inflamed his
ardour; but all the attentions which he proffered on every occasion
with inimitable address, were utterly unavailing, and for the first
time the gay Lord Clermistonlee found himself completely baffled by a
girl. Surprised at her opposition, his pride and constitutional
obstinacy became powerfully enlisted in the affair, and he determined
by forcible abduction, or some such coup-de-main, to subdue the
haughty little beauty to his purpose. Although he had been unable to
prosecute his amour in person, Juden and others had narrowly watched
the cottage of old Elshender, and brought from thence such reports as
convinced his Lordship that she alone could enlighten him as to the
retreat of Lilian and Lady Grizel, if they were not actually
concealed within her dwelling.
Though a munificent reward had been offered for their discovery,
trusting to the well-known faith and long-tried worth of their aged
vassal, the ladies had found a shelter in her humble residence,
correctly deeming that a house so poor and so near the city walls
would escape unsearched, when one at a distance might not. There
they dwelt in the strictest seclusion and disguise on the very marge
of their ample estates, and almost within view of the turrets of
their ancient manor-house.
Since the torture to which the unhappy Ichabod Bummel had been
subjected, and his subsequent imprisonment on the Bass Rock (where
Peden of Glenluce, Scott of Pitlochie, Bennett of Chesters, Gordon of
Earlston, Campbell of Cesnock, and others endured a strict captivity
as the price of sedition), Lady Grizel and Lilian hoped that their
involvement with the Orange spies, and their flight, would soon be
alike forgotten, especially now, when they were so utterly ruined and
impoverished by proscription, that they were forced to share the
bounty of their humblest vassal.
Near the old ruined chapel of St. Rocque, and close under the
outspread branches of a clump of lofty beech trees, by the side of
the ancient loan that led to Saint Giles' Grange, nestled the little
thatched cottage of Elsie Elshender. It was low-roofed, and its
thick heavy thatch was covered with grass and moss of emerald green.
The white-washed walls were massive, and perforated by four small
windows, each about a foot square, but crossed by an iron bar; two
faced the loan in front, and two overlooked the kailyard and byre to
the back. The cottage had one great clay-built chimney, at the back
of which was a little eyelet hole, affording from the stone
ingle-seats a view of the arid hills of Braid, and the solitary path
that wound over their acclivities to the peel of Liberton, then the
patrimony of the loyal Winrams. On one side of the door was a turf
seat, on the other a daddingstone, where (in the ancient fashion) the
barley was cleansed every morning, for the use of the family. This
humble residence contained only a _but_ and a _ben_, or inner and
outer apartment, and both were furnished with box-beds opening in
front with doors. The first chamber, though floored with hard beaten
clay, was as clean as whitening and sprinkled sand could make it; a
large fire of wood and peats blazed on the rude hearth; and in its
ruddy light the various rows of Flemish ware, beechwood luggies,
milk-bowies, horn-spoons, and polished pewter arrayed above the
wooden buffet or dresser, were all glittering in that shiny splendour
which a smart housewife loves. Within the wide fireplace on a pivet
hung a glowing Culross girdle, on which a vast cake was baking.
It was night, but neither lamp nor candle were required; the fire's
warm blaze gave ample light, and a more comfortable little cottage
than old Elsie's when viewed by that hospitable glow, was not to be
found in the three Lothians. Three oak chairs of ancient
construction, a table similar, a great meal girnel in one corner,
flanked by a peat bunker in the other, and an odd variety of stoups,
pitchers, and three-legged stools made up the background. On the
table lay an old quarto bible from which Lilian read aloud certain
passages every night, Andro Hart's "Psalmes in Scot's meter," and the
"Hynd let loose" of the "Godly Mr. Sheils," who was then in the hands
of the Phillistines, and keeping the Reverend Ichabod Bummel company
in the towers of the Bass. Two kirn-babies decorated with blue
ribbons, a quaint woodcut of our first parents' joining hands under
what resembled a great cabbage in the Garden of Eden appeared over
the mantel-piece, together with a long rusty partisan with which the
umquhile John Elshender had laid about him like a Trojan on the
battle-field of Dunbar.
Close by the ingle sat his widow Elsie enjoying its warmth, and
listening to the birr of her wheel. She was a hale old woman of
seventy years, with a nose and chin somewhat prominent; her grey hair
was neatly disposed under a snowwhite cap of that Flemish fashion
which is still common in Scotland, and over which a simple black
ribbon marks widowhood. Her upper attire consisted of a coarse skirt
of dark blue stuff, over which fell a short linen gown, reaching a
little below her girdle, which bristled with keys, knitting wires,
pincushion, and scissors. Similarly attired in a short Scottish
gown, which showed to the utmost advantage the full outline of her
buxom figure, her niece Meinie, a rosy, hazel-eyed, and dark-haired
girl of twenty, stood by the meal girnel baking (Anglicé _kneading_),
and as the sleeves of her dress came but a little below the shoulder,
her fair round arms and dimpled elbows did not belie the pretty and
merry face, which now and then peeped round at the group near the
fire. Two of these ought perhaps to have been described first.
Disguised as a peasant, Lady Grisel no longer wore her white hair
puffed out by Monsieur Pouncet's skill, but smoothed under a plain
starched bigonet, coif, or mutch (which you will), and very ill at
ease the stately old dame appeared in her hostess's coarse attire.
By way of pre-eminence she occupied the great leathern chair, in
which no mortal had been seated since the decease of John Elshender,
who for forty consecutive years had hung his bonnet on a knob
thereof, while taking his evening doze therein, after a day's
ploughing or harrowing on the rigs of Drumdryan.
Clad in one of the short gowns of Meinie, her foster-sister, Lilian
looked more graceful and decidedly more piquant, than when at home
rustling in lace, frizzled and perfumed; her fair hair was gathered
up in a simple snood like that of a peasant girl; but never had
peasant nor peeress more beautiful or more glossy tresses. The poor
girl was very pale; constant watching and anxiety, a feeling of utter
abandonment and helplessness should their retreat be traced, had
quite robbed her of that soft bloom, the glow of perfect health and
happiness, her cheeks had formerly worn.
The cottage contained a secret hiding place, constructed by that
"pawkie auld carle," John Elshender, as an occasional retreat in time
of peril, and therein the noble fugitives remained during the day,
issuing forth only at night, when, the windows closed by shutters
within and without, and a well-barred door, precluded all chance of a
sudden discovery. These precautions were imperatively necessary: had
the fugitives been seen by any one, the exceeding whiteness of their
hands, the softness of their voices, and, above all, the decided
superiority of their air, would have rendered all disguise
unavailing. In silence and sadness Lady Bruntisfield sat gazing on
the changing features of the glowing embers; but her mind was
absorbed within itself. Lilian was sewing, or endeavouring to do so;
her downcast eyes were suffused with tears, and from time to time she
stole a glance at Aunt Grisel. Every sound startled and caused her
to prick her delicate fingers, or snap the thread, until compelled to
throw aside the work; she then drew near her grand-aunt, bowed her
head on her shoulder, and wept aloud.
"Lilian, love!" exclaimed Lady Grisel, endeavouring to command her
own feelings, though the quivering of her proud nether lip showed the
depth of her emotion. "For my sake, if not for your own, do not
thus, every night, give way to unavailing sorrow and regret."
Lilian's thoughts were wandering to poor Walter Fenton in his prison,
and she still wept.
"Marry come up! it would ill suit this little one to become the wife
of a Scottish baron or gentleman of name!" said the old lady,
pettishly. "Lilian Napier, those tears become not your blood, whilk
you inherit from a warrior, whom the bravest of our kings said had
nae-peer in arms. Bethink ye, Lilian! Ere I was your age, I had
seen my two brothers, Cuthbert and Ninian, cloven down under their
own roof-tree by the Northumbrian Mosstroopers, and brave lads they
were as ever levelled pike or petronel. O! yet in my ears I hear the
clink of their harness as they fell dead on the flagstones of our
hall; and never may ye hear such sounds, Lilian, for they are hard to
thole. But I was a brave lassie then, and could bend a hackbut owre
a rampart, or send a dag-shot through an English burgonet, without
wincing or winking once; for my memory gangs back to the days of
gentle King Jamie, ere the Scotsman had learned to give his
ungauntled hand to the Southron."
"Fearfu' times, my leddy," said Elsie, "fearfu' times! waly, waly, I
mind o' them weel."
"They tell us we are one people now," continued the Scottish dame,
with kindling eyes. "Malediction on those who think so! I am a Hume
of the Cowdenknowes, and cannot forget that my brothers, my husband,
and his three fair boys poured their heart's blood forth upon English
steel."
"Ill would it become your ladyship to do so," said Elsie, urging her
wheel with increased velocity, and resolving not to be outdone in
garrulity by Lady Grisel. "Weel mayest thou greet my bonnie bairn
Lilian, for these are fearfu' times for helpless women bodies, when
the strong hand and sharp sword can hardly make the brave man haud
his ain; but they are as nothing to what I have seen, when the
doolfu' persecution was hot in the land. I mind the time when,
trussed up wi' a tow like a spitted chucky, I was harled away behind
that neer-do-well trooper, Holsterlie, and dookit thrice in
Bonnington-linn by Claverse' orders, and just as the water rose aboon
my mutch, gif I hadna cried 'God save King Charles and curse the
Covenant,' I hadna been spinning here to-night. Weary on't, I've aye
had a doolfu' cramp since that hour."
"A piece of a coffin keepeth away the cramp, Elsie, but 'tis an unco
charm, and one that I like not."
"Gude keep us! how many puir folk I have seen in my time hanged, or
shot, or writhing in great bodily anguish in the iron buits, wi'
lighted gun-matches bleezing between their birselled fingers, and
expiring in agonies awfu' to see and fearfu' to remember, and a'
rather than abjure the Holy Covenant and bless the King."
"And rightly were they served, false rebels!" said Lady Bruntisfield,
striking her cane on the floor.
"But let the persecutors tak' heed," continued Elsie, heedless of the
dame's Cavalier prejudices, "for their foot shall slide in due time
(as the blessed word sayeth), the day of their calamity is at hand,
and the sore things that are coming upon them make haste."
"O hush, dear Elsie," said Lilian, "you know not who may hear you."
"True, Madame Lilian," continued the old woman, "and your words are a
burning reproach against those who make it treason to whisper the
word, unless to the sound o' drums and shawlms, and organs. These
are fearfu' times."
"Toots, nurse, I have seen waur," said Lady Bruntisfield impatiently.
"Aye, my Leddy, in the year fifty, when the army o' that accursed
Cromwell came up by Lochend brawly in array o' battle, wi' the sun o'
a summer morning glinting on their pike-heads and steel caps;
marching they were, but neither to tuck of drum nor twang of horn,
but to a fushionless English hymn, whilk they aye skirled on the eve
o' battle. But our braw lads beat the auld Scots' march, and my
heart warmed at the brattle o' their drums and the fanfare o' the
trumpets. O, their thousands were a gallant sight to see, a' lodged
in deep trenches by Leith Loan, and the green Calton braes covered
wi' men-at-arms, and bristling wi' spears and brazen cannon! On the
topmost rock waved the banner o' the godly Argyle, and a' the craigs
were swarming wi' his wild Hielandmen in their chain jackets and
waving tartans. An awfu' time it was for me and mony mair! My puir
gudeman (whom God sain) rode in the Lowden Horse, under Sir
Archibald's banner (Heaven rest him too). That morning I grat like a
bairn when hooking the buff coat on his buirdly breiest, and clasping
the steel helmet on his manly broo, (O, hinnie Lilian, ne'er may ye
hae to do that for the man ye loe!) ere he gaed forth to battle for
this puir cot, his little bairns, and me. But heigh! it was a brave
sight, and a bonnie, to see our Lowden lads sweeping the English
birds o' Belial before them like chaff on the autumn wind, though my
heart was faint, and fluttered like a laverock in the hawk's grasp,
and I trembled and prayed for my puir man Jock. My een were ever on
Sir Archibald's red plume----"
"Red and blue, gules and argent, were his colours, Elsie," said Lady
Grisel, whose tears fell fast. "O, nursie, my ain hand twined them
in his helmet."
"True, my leddy," continued the old woman, whose strong feelings
imparted a force to her language, "my een were ever on that waving
plume, for well I kent where the Laird was, John Elshender was sure
to be if in life. Aye, Lilian, hinnie, Sir Archibald's voice was as
a trumpet in the hour of strife. 'Bruntisfield! Bruntisfield!
bridle to bridle, lads!' We heard him shout on every sough o' wind,
'God and the King!' and ever an' anon his uplifted sword flashed
among the English helmets like the levin brand on a winter night, and
mony a gay feather, and mony a gay fellow fell before it."
"Peace, Elsie, enough!" said Lady Grisel, weeping freely at the
mention of her husband, who had greatly distinguished himself in that
cavalry encounter, where Cromwell's attack on Edinburgh was so
signally repulsed. "If you love me, good nurse, I prythee cease
these reminiscences!"
"Weel, my lady, but muckle mair could I tell doo Lilian o' these
fearfu' times," continued the garrulous old woman, who loved (as the
Scots all do) to speak of the dead and other days; "muckle indeed,
for an auld carlin sees unco things in a lang lifetime. But,
dearsake, your ladyship, dinna greet sae, for better times _will_
come, and bethink ye they that thole overcome, for when things are at
the warst, the're sure aye to mend; sae spake the godly Mr. Bummel to
those who outlived that fearfu' night in the Whigs' vault at
Dunottar."
"Ah!" said Lilian shuddering, for she thought of Walter Fenton.
"That was a dark dungeon, nurse, was it not?"
"Deep, and dark, and vaulted, howkit in the whinrock, yet therein
were ane hundred three score and seventeen o' God's persecuted
creatures thrust, and there they expired in the agony and thirst,
such as the rich man suffered in hell--where Lauderdale suffers noo.
Ah, hinnie, it was a dowie place; the Water-hole of the town guard is
a king's chamber in comparison; it is black, damp, and slimy as a
tod's den."
"Oh, madam, it is just in such a place they have confined poor
Walter--I mean this young man whom we have involved in our
misfortunes," said Lilian, in tears and confusion. "It is ever
before me, since the night you sent me to him. Dear Aunt Grisel, you
cannot conceive all he endures at present, and is yet to endure."
"He is of low birth, Lilian, and therefore better able than we to
endure indignity," said Lady Bruntisfield, somewhat coldly. "Yet I
hope he shall not die--"
"Die!" reiterated Lilian, piqued at her kinswoman's coolness; "ah,
why such a thought?"
"I sorrow for him as much as you, Lilian. The young man seemed good
and gentle, with a bearing far above his humble fortune, and a comely
youth withal."
Lilian made no reply, but a close observer would have perceived that
her blue eyes sparkled and the colour of her cheek heightened with
pleasure as Lady Grisel spoke,
"And said he of the council threatened him with torture?" she
continued.
"Clermistonlee--"
"Ah!" ejaculated Lady Grisel.
"Eh, sirs?" added Elsie.
"Clermistonlee," continued Lilian, shuddering, "would have had him
torn limb from limb, but for the intercession of Claverhouse."
"And for what does he hate the youth?"
"Permitting me to escape, I presume," replied Lilian, raising her
head with a little hauteur.
"Claverse'!" said Elsie, in a low voice; "then this is the first gude
I have heard o' him. Folk say he is in league wi' the de'il (Heaven
keep us!) and that when the satanic spirit is in him, his black een
flash like wildfire in a moss-hagg. Certes! I'll no forget that
fearfu' day when he would hae dookit me to death for a word or twa."
"Colonel Grahame was guilty of most abominable ungallantry, Elsie;
and yet I do not think he would have ducked me."
"Ungallantry, Lilian!" said Lady Grisel, grasping her cane, "ye
should say a breach of law, ye sillie lassie. Our barony hath power
of pit and gallows by charter from Robert the Auld Farrand, and it
was a daring act and a graceless, to drag a vassal from our bounds,
when I could have hanged her myself on the dule-tree, by a word of my
mouth!" (Elsie winced.) "But he stood the youth's friend, you say?"
"Yes, and what dost think, nurse Elsie, so did old Beardie Dalyel!"
"Marvellous! but mind ye the proverb, _Hawks dinna pyke out hawks'
een_. The lad wears buff and steel, and eats his beef and bannock by
tuck of drum; and sae baith Claverse' and Dalyel shewed him that
mercy whilk a sanct o' God's oppressed kirk, would hae sued in vain
wi' clasped hands and bended knees."
"Ah, nurse, you don't know this young man. He is so mild-eyed and
gentle, that Dalyel--"
"Meinie, ye hizzie, the cakes are scouthering! Dalyel! folk say his
mother was in love wi' the deil; and my son Hab (a black day it was
too when he first mounted his bandoleers,) ance saw a kail-stock
scorched to the very heart when the auld knicht spat on it--but
fearfu' men are suited to fearfu' times."
"Hush, Elshender," said Lady Grisel; "they are indeed times when we
must fear the corbies on the roof, and the swallow under the eaves.
One might deem the council to have a familiar fiend at their command,
(like that fell warlock Weir, whose staff went errands,) for nought
passes in cot or castle on this side of the highland frontier, but
straightway they are informed of it. From whence could they have
tidings that our gallant kinsman Quentin, and that fule body Bummel
were at Bruntisfield? Landed at midnight from the Dutch frigate near
the mouth of the lonely Figget Burn, they were secretly admitted to
our house, in presence only of my baillie and most familiar
servitors, who would not betray me. I rejoice the captain hath
escaped their barbarities--but Ichabod, poor man!--I suppose his
earthly troubles are well nigh over."
"A dreich time he'll have o't on the lonely Bass," said Meinie,
turning the savory cakes, and blowing her pretty fingers. "There is
naething there but gulls flapping and skirling, the soughing wind and
roaring waves; but it will be a braw place to preach in, gif the
red-coats let him. Oh, it would be the death o' me to be among these
red-coats."
"Unless Hab Elshender were one," said Lilian: and Meinie blushed, for
the linking of two names together has a strange charm to a young
heart.
"Ou' aye," laughed the light-hearted girl; "but Maister Ichabod may
cool his lugs blawing gospel owre the craigs, to the north wind, or
gieing the waves a screed o' that blessed "_Bombshell_," he aye
havers o'. Better that than skirling a psalm at the Bowfoot, till
the doomster's axe comes down wi' a bang, and sends his head
chittering into a basket. Ugh!'"
"Meinie, peace wi' this discourse, whilk beseems not!" said Elsie
with great asperity. "I heard the lips o' the godly Renwick pray
audibly, after his head lay in Pate Pincer's basket. Eh, sirs! what
a head it is _now_. Yet the Netherbow guard watch it wi' cocked
matches day and night, for there is mony a bold plot made by the
Cameronians to carry it awa."
"But our unfortunate friend the preacher--how dearly, by his crushed
limbs, has he paid for his zeal in the cause of the Dutch prince!
Yet, as Heaven knoweth, I knew not that letters of treason to our
Scottish nobles were in his possession, or never would he have
darkened the door of Bruntisfield. He deceived me; let it pass. Sir
Archibald, thou rememberest well my husband, Elsie?--'tis well that
he sleeps in his grave. Oh, judge what _he_ would have thought of
our downfal and degradation!"
"My mind misgives me, my lady, but Sir Archibald's kirk was the
fushionless ane o' episcopacy, and, indeed, he just gaed wherever the
troops marched, with trumpets blawing and kettle-drums beating waefu'
to hear in the day o' the Lord."
This last speech somewhat displeased Lady Grisel, who struck her cane
thrice on the clay floor, and there ensued a long pause, broken only
by creaking of the beeches in the adjoining grove, and the birr of
Elsie's wheel as it whirled by the ruddy fire.
"Come, your Leddyship," said Elsie, "let byegones be byegones, and
we'll be canty while we may. Meinie can sing like a laverock in the
summer morning; sae, lassie, gie forth your best sang to please our
lady, and then we'll hae our luggies o' milk, and bit o' your
bannocks, a screed o' the blessed gospel, and syne awa to our rest,
for its waxing late."
Meinie of course was about to enter some bashful protest, when the
soft voice of her foster-sister said,--
"Do, dearest Meinie, and I will join thee; 'twill raise the spirits
of good aunt Grisel. Ah, if I had only my spinnet, the cittern, or
even my flageolet here!"
"What is your pleasure, then, Madam Lilian?" asked Meinie,
curtseying, "_Lady Anne Bothwell's Lament_, or _The Broom of the
Cowdenknowes_?"
"Anything but the last," said Lady Bruntisfield. "The Knowes of
Cowden hath passed away from the house of Hume, and bonnie though the
golden broom may be, it blooms for us no more."
"Sing '_Dunbarton's drums_,' Meinie," said Lilian, "you hum it from
morning till evening."
"And so do _you_, Madam," said Meinie slyly and bluntly; "but I loe
the merry measure."
"Ewhow, that's because o' my wild son Hab!" said Elsie, laughing.
"Mak' speed, lassie--our lady waits."
Meinie made another low old-fashioned curtsey, and then, while
continuing her task, sang the song and march composed for the Scots
Royals, or Dunbarton's Musqueteers, and which had then been popular
in Scotland for some years. Lilian at times added her softer notes
to Meinie's, and their clear voices made the rough rafters, hollow
box-beds, and deep bunkers of the old cottage ring to that merry old
air:--
"Dunbarton's drums beating bonnie, O,
Remind me o' my Johnnie, O,
added Elsie, beating time with her feet to the mellow voices of the
girls; but Lady Bruntisfield heard them not, for with her glistening
eyes fixed on the glowing embers, she gradually sunk into a deep
reverie. Animated each by her own secret thoughts, the girls sang
with tenderness and enthusiasm, and all were so much engaged that
none of the four perceived a _fifth_ personage, who suddenly made his
appearance among them.
In a corner of the cottage stood a great oak chest, apparently a meal
girnel, but having a false floor, and being in reality the mouth of
the subterranean place of concealment and escape, communicating with
the grove behind the cottage. Such outlets were numerous in all
large mansions; and the dangerous times of the Solemn League had
caused the umquhile John Elshender to construct such a sallyport from
his humble dwelling; and on several occasions of peril it had saved
him from being hanged over his own door by Malignants, Covenanters,
and English, or whoever had the upperhand for the time. Slowly the
girnel lid was raised, and the glowing firelight shone on the steel
breast-plate and bandoleers of a musqueteer. He was a ruddy-faced
young man, with the prominent cheek-bones and shrewd expression of
the Lowland peasantry: stout and athletic in figure, his keen grey
eyes took a rapid survey of the cottage under the peak of his morion.
His face expressed surprise and curiosity, but as the song proceeded
he stepped slowly and softly out, and when it was concluded stood
close to the rosy and buxom Meinie.
"Hurrah!" he exclaimed, and gave her a resounding kiss on each cheek.
The wheel fell from the relaxed hand of Elsie, and a shriek burst
from Lilian, who believed they were betrayed, and threw herself
before her aged kinswoman.
"Hab, Hab, ye graceless loon," screamed Elsie, as her son now kissed
her, "how dare ye gliff folk this gate?"
"Hoots, Hab, ye've toozled a' my tap-knot," said Meinie, affecting to
pout; "ye came on me noo like a ghaist or a spunkie."
"Heyday, Meinie, my doo! ye want to be kissed again; do ye think I
have trailed a pike these eight years under my Lord Dunbarton,
without learning to tak' baith castles and kimmers by storm."
"Aye-aye, you are as bad as the warst o' them, I doubt not. Lasses,
indeed--dinna come near me again."
"Hoity, toity, does she not want another kiss?"
"Haud, you wild loon," said his mother, in great glee; "do ye no see
who are present?"
"An auld neighbour carlin, I think, and as bonnie a young lass as I
ever saw on the longest day's march, d--n me."
Halbert suddenly paused, and became very much perplexed. The blood
rushed into his swarthy face, as with an awkward but profound salute
he said, in an altered voice,--
"I crave your pardon a thousand times, noble madam; and yours, sweet
Mistress Lilian. My humble duty to ye both, though it is not long
since I had the happiness to meet you. It goes to my heart to see
you in attire so unbefitting your station. O, Lady Grisel, I ken
oure well of all that has come to pass, for I was one of the thirty
files of musqueteers, that were with Finland at the auld place on
that sorrowful night last month. They are hard times these, my lady."
"Fearfu' times, my son," chorussed Elsie.
"True, Halbert," said the old lady. "Ruin and proscription now level
the most noble with the mean, the most unoffending with the guilty,
and blend all with the common herd. But, Halbert, I bid ye welcome,
my man, and God bless ye!"
"And I too, Habbie," added Lilian; "for I cannot forget when we
bird-nested in the wood yonder, and gathered gowans and flowers on
the sunny braes in summer. Oh! Hab, in all your soldiering, I will
warrant ye have never been so happy as we were then."
The eyes of the soldier glistened.
"True it is, madam," said he, as slightly and bashfully he raised to
his lip the beautiful hand she extended towards him; "true, indeed.
I have spent many a happy hour under the canvass tent, and birled
many a wine horn merrily in the Flanders hostels and French cabarets;
but never have I seen such happy hours as those we spent when we were
bairns, amang the oakwoods of the auld place upbye yonder. Often
hath brave Mr. Fenton, when tramping by my side on the long dusty
march, recalled their memory in such wise that my heart swelled under
its iron case. And truly, honoured madam, though the same heart is
wrung to see you dressed in cousin Meinie's humble duds, never saw I
lassie that looked sae winsome. Od rot it! how came your ladyship to
let that ill-omened corbie to darken your door? when sure ye might
have been that dool and mischief would meet thereafter on your
hearthstane. This goose Bummel----"
"Oh, Hab, ye gomeral, wheesht!" said Elsie, interrupting this
somewhat laboured address. "Your notions o' ministers are gathered
frae your tearing, swearing, through-ganging, horse-racing, and
hard-drinking Episcopal curates and chaplains, that swagger about wi'
cockades in their bonnets and swords at their thighs, chucking every
bonnie lass under chin, and gieing ilka sabbath a sleepy,
fushionless, feckless, drouthie, cauldrifed discourse, whilk hath
neither the due birr nor substantious, soul-feeding effect o' the
true gospel, but savours rather o' the abomination----"
"Ahoi, mother, halt!--egad, or mind the iron gags, the fetterlocks,
and thumbikins!" cried her son, with an alarm that was no way
lessened by a violent knocking at the cottage door, where, at that
moment, the iron ring of the risp was drawn sharply and repeatedly up
and down.
The hearts of the poor fugitives forgot to beat! Insult,
imprisonment, banishment, or worse, rushed upon the mind of Lady
Bruntisfield; the dark, gloating eyes and terrible presence of
Clermistonlee, upon that of Lilian: but Halbert Elshender snatched up
his musquet and blew the match till it glowed on his sun-burned face,
an action which made the women grow paler still.
"Beard of the devil! Get into the girnel, Lady Grizel; and you,
madam Lilian--quick!" exclaimed the soldier in a vehement whisper.
"Halbert," faltered Lady Bruntisfield, "your father was a leal and
faithful vassal----"
"And I, his only son, will stand by you and yours to the death, even
as he would have done. In--in--away to the Beech-grove, ere worse
come of it. Mother, ye donnart jaud, doun wi' the lid, and pouch the
key. And now, may I run the gauntlet from right to left, if you
(whoever you are) that tirl the risp so hard get not a taste of King
Jamie's new sweyne-feather!" He screwed his dagger or bayonet to the
muzzle of his matchlock, and then demanded in a loud voice--
"Stand, stranger. Who goes there?"
"One who must speak with Lady Bruntisfield, whom I know to be
concealed here. Open, and without a moment's delay."
"Lost--lost! Gude Lord, keep thy hand over _them_ and us!" murmured
Elsie, clinging to Meinie, as another loud and impatient blow shook
the well-barred door, and found a terrible echo in the trembling
hearts of the fugitives and their protectors.