sincere, he joined the party who were walking before them. The treble
disquisition was by this time ended; and Sir Arthur was speaking on the
subject of foreign news, and the political and military situation of the
country, themes upon which every man thinks himself qualified to give
an opinion. An action of the preceding year having come upon the tapis,
Lovel, accidentally mingling in the conversation, made some assertion
concerning it, of the accuracy of which Captain M’Intyre seemed not to
be convinced, although his doubts were politely expressed.
“You must confess yourself in the wrong here, Hector,” said his uncle,
“although I know no man less willing to give up an argument; but you
were in England at the time, and Mr. Lovel was probably concerned in the
affair.”
“I am speaking to a military man, then?” said M’Intyre; “may I inquire
to what regiment Mr. Lovel belongs?”--Mr. Lovel gave him the number
of the regiment. “It happens strangely that we should never have met
before, Mr. Lovel. I know your regiment very well, and have served along
with them at different times.”
A blush crossed Lovel’s countenance. “I have not lately been with my
regiment,” he replied; “I served the last campaign upon the staff of
General Sir----.”
“Indeed! that is more wonderful than the other circumstance!--for
although I did not serve with General Sir----, yet I had an opportunity of
knowing the names of the officers who held situations in his family, and
I cannot recollect that of Lovel.”
At this observation Lovel again blushed so deeply as to attract the
attention of the whole company, while, a scornful laugh seemed to
indicate Captain M’Intyre’s triumph. “There is something strange in
this,” said Oldbuck to himself; “but I will not readily give up my
phoenix of post-chaise companions--all his actions, language, and
bearing, are those of a gentleman.”
Lovel in the meanwhile had taken out his pocket-book, and selecting a
letter, from which he took off the envelope, he handed it to Mlntyre.
“You know the General’s hand, in all probability--I own I ought not to
show these exaggerated expressions of his regard and esteem for me.” The
letter contained a very handsome compliment from the officer in question
for some military service lately performed. Captain M’Intyre, as he
glanced his eye over it, could not deny that it was written in the
General’s hand, but drily observed, as he returned it, that the address
was wanting. “The address, Captain M’Intyre,” answered Lovel, in the
same tone, “shall be at your service whenever you choose to inquire
after it!”
“I certainly shall not fail to do so,” rejoined the soldier.
“Come, come,” exclaimed Oldbuck, “what is the meaning of all this? Have
we got Hiren here?--We’ll have no swaggering youngsters. Are you come
from the wars abroad, to stir up domestic strife in our peaceful land?
Are you like bull-dog puppies, forsooth, that when the bull, poor
fellow, is removed from the ring, fall to brawl among themselves, worry
each other, and bite honest folk’s shins that are standing by?”
Sir Arthur trusted, he said, the young gentlemen would not so far forget
themselves as to grow warm upon such a trifling subject as the back of a
letter.
Both the disputants disclaimed any such intention, and, with high colour
and flashing eyes, protested they were never so cool in their lives. But
an obvious damp was cast over the party;--they talked in future too much
by the rule to be sociable, and Lovel, conceiving himself the object
of cold and suspicious looks from the rest of the company, and sensible
that his indirect replies had given them permission to entertain strange
opinions respecting him, made a gallant determination to sacrifice the
pleasure he had proposed in spending the day at Knockwinnock.
He affected, therefore, to complain of a violent headache, occasioned by
the heat of the day, to which he had not been exposed since his illness,
and made a formal apology to Sir Arthur, who, listening more to recent
suspicion than to the gratitude due for former services, did not press
him to keep his engagement more than good-breeding exactly demanded.
When Lovel took leave of the ladies, Miss Wardour’s manner seemed more
anxious than he had hitherto remarked it. She indicated by a glance of
her eye towards Captain M’Intyre, perceptible only by Lovel, the subject
of her alarm, and hoped, in a voice greatly under her usual tone, it was
not a less pleasant engagement which deprived them of the pleasure of
Mr. Lovel’s company. “No engagement had intervened,” he assured her; “it
was only the return of a complaint by which he had been for some time
occasionally attacked.”
“The best remedy in such a case is prudence, and I--every friend of Mr.
Lovel’s will expect him to employ it.”
Lovel bowed low and coloured deeply, and Miss Wardour, as if she felt
that she had said too much, turned and got into the carriage. Lovel had
next to part with Oldbuck, who, during this interval, had, with Caxon’s
assistance, been arranging his disordered periwig, and brushing his
coat, which exhibited some marks of the rude path they had traversed.
“What, man!” said Oldbuck, “you are not going to leave us on account of
that foolish Hector’s indiscreet curiosity and vehemence? Why, he is
a thoughtless boy--a spoiled child from the time he was in the nurse’s
arms--he threw his coral and bells at my head for refusing him a bit of
sugar; and you have too much sense to mind such a shrewish boy: aequam
servare mentem is the motto of our friend Horace. I’ll school Hector by
and by, and put it all to rights.” But Lovel persisted in his design of
returning to Fairport.
The Antiquary then assumed a graver tone.--“Take heed, young man, to your
present feelings. Your life has been given you for useful and valuable
purposes, and should be reserved to illustrate the literature of your
country, when you are not called upon to expose it in her defence, or
in the rescue of the innocent. Private war, a practice unknown to the
civilised ancients, is, of all the absurdities introduced by the Gothic
tribes, the most gross, impious, and cruel. Let me hear no more of these
absurd quarrels, and I will show you the treatise upon the duello, which
I composed when the town-clerk and provost Mucklewhame chose to assume
the privileges of gentlemen, and challenged each other. I thought of
printing my Essay, which is signed Pacificator; but there was no need,
as the matter was taken up by the town-council of the borough.”
“But I assure you, my dear sir, there is nothing between Captain
M’Intyre and me that can render such respectable interference
necessary.”
“See it be so; for otherwise, I will stand second to both parties.”
So saying, the old gentleman got into the chaise, close to which Miss
M’Intyre had detained her brother, upon the same principle that
the owner of a quarrelsome dog keeps him by his side to prevent his
fastening upon another. But Hector contrived to give her precaution
the slip, for, as he was on horseback, he lingered behind the carriages
until they had fairly turned the corner in the road to Knockwinnock, and
then, wheeling his horse’s head round, gave him the spur in the opposite
direction.
A very few minutes brought him up with Lovel, who, perhaps anticipating
his intention, had not put his horse beyond a slow walk, when the
clatter of hoofs behind him announced Captain Mlntyre. The young
soldier, his natural heat of temper exasperated by the rapidity of
motion, reined his horse up suddenly and violently by Lovel’s side, and
touching his hat slightly, inquired, in a very haughty tone of voice,
“What am I to understand, sir, by your telling me that your address was
at my service?”
“Simply, sir,” replied Lovel, “that my name is Lovel, and that my
residence is, for the present, Fairport, as you will see by this card.”
“And is this all the information you are disposed to give me?”
“I see no right you have to require more.”
“I find you, sir, in company with my sister,” said the young soldier,
“and I have a right to know who is admitted into Miss M’Intyre’s
society.”
“I shall take the liberty of disputing that right,” replied Lovel,
with a manner as haughty as that of the young soldier;--“you find me in
society who are satisfied with the degree of information on my affairs
which I have thought proper to communicate, and you, a mere stranger,
have no right to inquire further.”
“Mr. Lovel, if you served as you say you have”--
“If!” interrupted Lovel,--“if I have served as I say I have?”
“Yes, sir, such is my expression--if you have so served, you must know
that you owe me satisfaction either in one way or other.”
“If that be your opinion, I shall be proud to give it to you, Captain
M’Intyre, in the way in which the word is generally used among
gentlemen.”
“Very well, sir,” rejoined Hector, and, turning his horse round,
galloped off to overtake his party.
His absence had already alarmed them, and his sister, having stopped the
carriage, had her neck stretched out of the window to see where he was.
“What is the matter with you now?” said the Antiquary, “riding to and
fro as your neck were upon the wager--why do you not keep up with the
carriage?”
“I forgot my glove, sir,” said Hector.
“Forgot your glove!--I presume you meant to say you went to throw it
down--But I will take order with you, my young gentleman--you shall return
with me this night to Monkbarns.” So saying, he bid the postilion go on.
CHAPTER TWENTIETH.
--If you fail Honour here,
Never presume to serve her any more;
Bid farewell to the integrity of armes;
And the honourable name of soldier
Fall from you, like a shivered wreath of laurel
By thunder struck from a desertlesse forehead.
A Faire Quarrell.
Early the next morning, a gentleman came to wait upon Mr. Lovel, who was
up and ready to receive him. He was a military gentleman, a friend of
Captain M’Intyre’s, at present in Fairport on the recruiting service.
Lovel and he were slightly known to each other. “I presume, sir,” said
Mr. Lesley (such was the name of the visitor), “that you guess the
occasion of my troubling you so early?”
“A message from Captain M’Intyre, I presume?”
“The same. He holds himself injured by the manner in which you declined
yesterday to answer certain inquiries which he conceived himself
entitled to make respecting a gentleman whom he found in intimate
society with his family.”
“May I ask, if you, Mr. Lesley, would have inclined to satisfy
interrogatories so haughtily and unceremoniously put to you?”
“Perhaps not;--and therefore, as I know the warmth of my friend M’Intyre
on such occasions, I feel very desirous of acting as peacemaker. From
Mr. Lovel’s very gentleman-like manners, every one must strongly wish to
see him repel all that sort of dubious calumny which will attach itself
to one whose situation is not fully explained. If he will permit me, in
friendly conciliation, to inform Captain M’Intyre of his real name, for
we are led to conclude that of Lovel is assumed”--
“I beg your pardon, sir, but I cannot admit that inference.”
“--Or at least,” said Lesley, proceeding, “that it is not the name by
which Mr. Lovel has been at all times distinguished--if Mr. Lovel will
have the goodness to explain this circumstance, which, in my opinion,
he should do in justice to his own character, I will answer for the
amicable arrangement of this unpleasant business.”
“Which is to say, Mr. Lesley, that if I condescend to answer questions
which no man has a right to ask, and which are now put to me under
penalty of Captain M’Intyre’s resentment, Captain MIntyre will
condescend to rest satisfied? Mr. Lesley, I have just one word to say
on this subject--I have no doubt my secret, if I had one, might be safely
entrusted to your honour, but I do not feel called upon to satisfy the
curiosity of any one. Captain M’Intyre met me in society which of itself
was a warrant to all the world, and particularly ought to be such to
him, that I was a gentleman. He has, in my opinion, no right to go
any further, or to inquire the pedigree, rank, or circumstances, of a
stranger, who, without seeking any intimate connection with him, or his,
chances to dine with his uncle, or walk in company with his sister.”
“In that case, Captain M’Intyre requests you to be informed, that your
farther visits at Monkbarns, and all connection with Miss M’Intyre, must
be dropt, as disagreeable to him.”
“I shall certainly,” said Lovel, “visit Mr. Oldbuck when it suits me,
without paying the least respect to his nephew’s threats or irritable
feelings. I respect the young lady’s name too much (though nothing
can be slighter than our acquaintance) to introduce it into such a
discussion.”
“Since that is your resolution, sir,” answered Lesley, “Captain M’Intyre
requests that Mr. Lovel, unless he wishes to be announced as a very
dubious character, will favour him with a meeting this evening, at
seven, at the thorn-tree in the little valley close by the ruins of St.
Ruth.”
“Most unquestionably, I will wait upon him. There is only one
difficulty--I must find a friend to accompany me, and where to seek one
on this short notice, as I have no acquaintance in Fairport--I will be on
the spot, however--Captain M’Intyre may be assured of that.”
Lesley had taken his hat, and was as far as the door of the apartment,
when, as if moved by the peculiarity of Lovel’s situation, he returned,
and thus addressed him: “Mr. Lovel, there is something so singular in
all this, that I cannot help again resuming the argument. You must be
yourself aware at this moment of the inconvenience of your preserving
an incognito, for which, I am convinced, there can be no dishonourable
reason. Still, this mystery renders it difficult for you to procure the
assistance of a friend in a crisis so delicate--nay, let me add, that
many persons will even consider it as a piece of Quixotry in M’Intyre to
give you a meeting, while your character and circumstances are involved
in such obscurity.”
“I understand your innuendo, Mr. Lesley,” rejoined Lovel; and though
I might be offended at its severity, I am not so, because it is meant
kindly. But, in my opinion, he is entitled to all the privileges of a
gentleman, to whose charge, during the time he has been known in the
society where he happens to move, nothing can be laid that is unhandsome
or unbecoming. For a friend, I dare say I shall find some one or other
who will do me that good turn; and if his experience be less than I
could wish, I am certain not to suffer through that circumstance when
you are in the field for my antagonist.”
“I trust you will not,” said Lesley; “but as I must, for my own sake,
be anxious to divide so heavy a responsibility with a capable assistant,
allow me to say, that Lieutenant Taffril’s gun-brig is come into the
roadstead, and he himself is now at old Caxon’s, where he lodges. I
think you have the same degree of acquaintance with him as with me, and,
as I am sure I should willingly have rendered you such a service were
I not engaged on the other side, I am convinced he will do so at your
first request.”
“At the thorn-tree, then, Mr. Lesley, at seven this evening--the arms, I
presume, are pistols?”
“Exactly. M’Intyre has chosen the hour at which he can best escape from
Monkbarns--he was with me this morning by five, in order to return
and present himself before his uncle was up. Good-morning to you, Mr.
Lovel.” And Lesley left the apartment.
Lovel was as brave as most men; but none can internally regard such a
crisis as now approached, without deep feelings of awe and uncertainty.
In a few hours he might be in another world to answer for an action
which his calmer thought told him was unjustifiable in a religious point
of view, or he might be wandering about in the present like Cain, with
the blood of his brother on his head. And all this might be saved by
speaking a single word. Yet pride whispered, that to speak that word
now, would be ascribed to a motive which would degrade him more low than
even the most injurious reasons that could be assigned for his silence.
Every one, Miss Wardour included, must then, he thought, account him
a mean dishonoured poltroon, who gave to the fear of meeting Captain
M’Intyre the explanation he had refused to the calm and handsome
expostulations of Mr. Lesley. M’Intyre’s insolent behaviour to himself
personally, the air of pretension which he assumed towards Miss Wardour,
and the extreme injustice, arrogance, and incivility of his demands
upon a perfect stranger, seemed to justify him in repelling his rude
investigation. In short, he formed the resolution which might have been
expected from so young a man,--to shut the eyes, namely, of his calmer
reason, and follow the dictates of his offended pride. With this purpose
he sought Lieutenant Taffril.
The lieutenant received him with the good breeding of a gentleman and
the frankness of a sailor, and listened with no small surprise to the
detail which preceded his request that he might be favoured with his
company at his meeting with Captain M’Intyre. When he had finished,
Taffril rose up and walked through his apartment once or twice. “This is
a most singular circumstance,” he said, “and really”--
“I am conscious, Mr. Taffril, how little I am entitled to make my
present request, but the urgency of circumstances hardly leaves me an
alternative.”
“Permit me to ask you one question,” asked the sailor;--“is there
anything of which you are ashamed in the circumstances which you have
declined to communicate.”
“Upon my honour, no; there is nothing but what, in a very short time, I
trust I may publish to the whole world.”
“I hope the mystery arises from no false shame at the lowness of your
friends perhaps, or connections?”
“No, on my word,” replied Lovel.
“I have little sympathy for that folly,” said Taffril--“indeed I cannot
be supposed to have any; for, speaking of my relations, I may be said to
have come myself from before the mast, and I believe I shall very soon
form a connection, which the world will think low enough, with a very
amiable girl, to whom I have been attached since we were next-door
neighbours, at a time when I little thought of the good fortune which
has brought me forward in the service.”
“I assure you, Mr. Taffril,” replied Lovel, “whatever were the rank of
my parents, I should never think of concealing it from a spirit of
petty pride. But I am so situated at present, that I cannot enter on the
subject of my family with any propriety.”
“It is quite enough,” said the honest sailor--“give me your hand; I’ll
see you as well through this business as I can, though it is but an
unpleasant one after all--But what of that? our own honour has the next
call on us after our country;--you are a lad of spirit, and I own I think
Mr. Hector M’Intyre, with his long pedigree and his airs of family,
very much of a jackanapes. His father was a soldier of fortune as I am a
sailor--he himself, I suppose, is little better, unless just as his uncle
pleases; and whether one pursues fortune by land, or sea, makes no great
difference, I should fancy.”
“None in the universe, certainly,” answered Lovel.
“Well,” said his new ally, “we will dine together and arrange matters
for this rencounter. I hope you understand the use of the weapon?”
“Not particularly,” Lovel replied.
“I am sorry for that--M’Intyre is said to be a marksman.”
“I am sorry for it also,” said Lovel, “both for his sake and my own: I
must then, in self-defence, take my aim as well as I can.”
“Well,” added Taffril, “I will have our surgeon’s mate on the field--a
good clever young fellow at caulking a shot-hole. I will let Lesley, who
is an honest fellow for a landsman, know that he attends for the benefit
of either party. Is there anything I can do for you in case of an
accident?”
“I have but little occasion to trouble you,” said Lovel. “This small
billet contains the key of my escritoir, and my very brief secret. There
is one letter in the escritoir” (digesting a temporary swelling of the
heart as he spoke), “which I beg the favour of you to deliver with your
own hand.”
“I understand,” said the sailor. “Nay, my friend, never be ashamed for
the matter--an affectionate heart may overflow for an instant at the
eyes, if the ship were clearing for action; and, depend on it, whatever
your injunctions are, Dan Taffril will regard them like the bequest of a
dying brother. But this is all stuff;--we must get our things in fighting
order, and you will dine with me and my little surgeon’s mate, at the
Graeme’s-Arms over the way, at four o’clock.”
“Agreed,” said Lovel.
“Agreed,” said Taffril; and the whole affair was arranged.
It was a beautiful summer evening, and the shadow of the solitary
thorn-tree was lengthening upon the short greensward of the narrow
valley, which was skirted by the woods that closed around the ruins of
St. Ruth. *
* [Supposed to have been suggested by the old Abbey of Arbroath in *
Forfarshire.]
[Illustration: St. Ruth (arbroath Abbey)]
Lovel and Lieutenant Taffril, with the surgeon, came upon the ground
with a purpose of a nature very uncongenial to the soft, mild, and
pacific character of the hour and scene. The sheep, which during the
ardent heat of the day had sheltered in the breaches and hollows of the
gravelly bank, or under the roots of the aged and stunted trees, had
now spread themselves upon the face of the hill to enjoy their evening’s
pasture, and bleated, to each other with that melancholy sound which
at once gives life to a landscape, and marks its solitude.--Taffril and
Lovel came on in deep conference, having, for fear of discovery, sent
their horses back to the town by the Lieutenant’s servant. The opposite
party had not yet appeared on the field. But when they came upon the
ground, there sat upon the roots of the old thorn a figure as vigorous
in his decay as the moss-grown but strong and contorted boughs which
served him for a canopy. It was old Ochiltree. “This is embarrassing
enough,” said Lovel:--“How shall we get rid of this old fellow?”
“Here, father Adam,” cried Taffril, who knew the mendicant of
yore--“here’s half-a-crown for you. You must go to the Four Horse-shoes
yonder--the little inn, you know, and inquire for a servant with blue and
yellow livery. If he is not come, you’ll wait for him, and tell him
we shall be with his master in about an hour’s time. At any rate, wait
there till we come back,--and--Get off with you--Come, come, weigh anchor.”
“I thank ye for your awmous,” said Ochiltree, pocketing the piece of
money; “but I beg your pardon, Mr. Taffril--I canna gang your errand e’en
now.”
“Why not, man? what can hinder you?”
“I wad speak a word wi’ young Mr. Lovel.”
“With me?” answered Lovel: “what would you say with me? Come, say on,
and be brief.”
The mendicant led him a few paces aside. “Are ye indebted onything to
the Laird o’ Monkbarns?”
“Indebted!--no, not I--what of that?--what makes you think so?”
“Ye maun ken I was at the shirra’s the day; for, God help me, I gang
about a’ gates like the troubled spirit; and wha suld come whirling
there in a post-chaise, but Monkbarns in an unco carfuffle--now, it’s no
a little thing that will make his honour take a chaise and post-horse
twa days rinnin’.”
“Well, well; but what is all this to me?”
“Ou, ye’se hear, ye’se hear. Weel, Monkbarns is closeted wi’ the
shirra whatever puir folk may be left thereout--ye needna doubt that--the
gentlemen are aye unco civil amang themsells.”
“For heaven’s sake, my old friend”--
“Canna ye bid me gang to the deevil at ance, Mr. Lovel? it wad be mair
purpose fa’ard than to speak o’ heaven in that impatient gate.”
“But I have private business with Lieutenant Taffril here.”
“Weel, weel, a’ in gude time,” said the beggar--“I can use a little
wee bit freedom wi’ Mr. Daniel Taffril;--mony’s the peery and the tap
I worked for him langsyne, for I was a worker in wood as weel as a
tinkler.”
“You are either mad, Adam, or have a mind to drive me mad.”
“Nane o’ the twa,” said Edie, suddenly changing his manner from the
protracted drawl of the mendicant to a brief and decided tone. “The
shirra sent for his clerk, and as the lad is rather light o’ the tongue,
I fand it was for drawing a warrant to apprehend you--I thought it had
been on a fugie warrant for debt; for a’ body kens the laird likes
naebody to pit his hand in his pouch--But now I may haud my tongue, for
I see the M’Intyre lad and Mr. Lesley coming up, and I guess that
Monkbarns’s purpose was very kind, and that yours is muckle waur than it
should be.”
The antagonist now approached, and saluted with the stern civility
which befitted the occasion. “What has this old fellow to do here?” said
M’Intyre.