judicial action, “whether you declare yourself divorced or married? And
as to breaking your wand, or breaking the peace, or whatever you call
it, all I know is, that I will break your bones if you prevent the lad
from harnessing the horses to obey his mistress’s orders.”
“I take all who stand here to witness,” said the messenger, “that I
showed him my blazon, and explained my character. He that will to Cupar
maun to Cupar,”--and he slid his enigmatical ring from one end of the
baton to the other, being the appropriate symbol of his having been
forcibly interrupted in the discharge of his duty.
Honest Hector, better accustomed to the artillery of the field than to
that of the law, saw this mystical ceremony with great indifference;
and with like unconcern beheld the messenger sit down to write out
an execution of deforcement. But at this moment, to prevent the
well-meaning hot-headed Highlander from running the risk of a
severe penalty, the Antiquary arrived puffing and blowing, with his
handkerchief crammed under his hat, and his wig upon the end of his
stick.
“What the deuce is the matter here?” he exclaimed, hastily adjusting
his head-gear; “I have been following you in fear of finding your idle
loggerhead knocked against one rock or other, and here I find you parted
with your Bucephalus, and quarrelling with Sweepclean. A messenger,
Hector, is a worse foe than a phoca, whether it be the phoca barbata, or
the phoca vitulina of your late conflict.”
“D--n the phoca, sir,” said Hector, “whether it be the one or the other--I
say d--n them both particularly! I think you would not have me stand
quietly by and see a scoundrel like this, because he calls himself a
king’s messenger, forsooth--(I hope the king has many better for his
meanest errands)--insult a young lady of family and fashion like Miss
Wardour?”
“Rightly argued, Hector,” said the Antiquary; “but the king, like other
people, has now and then shabby errands, and, in your ear, must have
shabby fellows to do them. But even supposing you unacquainted with the
statutes of William the Lion, in which capite quarto versu quinto, this
crime of deforcement is termed despectus Domini Regis--a contempt, to
wit, of the king himself, in whose name all legal diligence issues,--
could you not have inferred, from the information I took so much pains
to give you to-day, that those who interrupt officers who come to
execute letters of caption, are tanquam participes criminis rebellionis?
seeing that he who aids a rebel, is himself, quodammodo, an accessory to
rebellion--But I’ll bring you out of this scrape.”
He then spoke to the messenger, who, upon his arrival, had laid aside
all thoughts of making a good by-job out of the deforcement, and
accepted Mr. Oldbuck’s assurances that the horse and taxed-cart should
be safely returned in the course of two or three hours.
“Very well, sir,” said the Antiquary, “since you are disposed to be so
civil, you shall have another job in your own best way--a little cast of
state politics--a crime punishable per Legem Juliam, Mr. Sweepclean-- Hark
thee hither.”
And after a whisper of five minutes, he gave him a slip of paper, on
receiving which, the messenger mounted his horse, and, with one of his
assistants, rode away pretty sharply. The fellow who remained seemed to
delay his operations purposely, proceeded in the rest of his duty very
slowly, and with the caution and precision of one who feels himself
overlooked by a skilful and severe inspector.
In the meantime, Oldbuck, taking his nephew by the arm, led him into the
house, and they were ushered into the presence of Sir Arthur Wardour,
who, in a flutter between wounded pride, agonized apprehension, and
vain attempts to disguise both under a show of indifference, exhibited a
spectacle of painful interest.
“Happy to see you, Mr. Oldbuck--always happy to see my friends in fair
weather or foul,” said the poor Baronet, struggling not for composure,
but for gaiety--an affectation which was strongly contrasted by the
nervous and protracted grasp of his hand, and the agitation of his whole
demeanour--“I am happy to see you. You are riding, I see--I hope in this
confusion your horses are taken good care of--I always like to have my
friend’s horses looked after--Egad! they will have all my care now, for
you see they are like to leave me none of my own--he! he! he! eh, Mr.
Oldbuck?”
This attempt at a jest was attended by a hysterical giggle, which poor
Sir Arthur intended should sound as an indifferent laugh.
“You know I never ride, Sir Arthur,” said the Antiquary.
“I beg your pardon; but sure I saw your nephew arrive on horseback a
short time since. We must look after officers’ horses, and his was as
handsome a grey charger as I have seen.”
Sir Arthur was about to ring the bell, when Mr. Oldbuck said, “My nephew
came on your own grey horse, Sir Arthur.”
“Mine!” said the poor Baronet; “mine was it? then the sun had been in my
eyes. Well, I’m not worthy having a horse any longer, since I don’t know
my own when I see him.”
“Good Heaven!” thought Oldbuck, “how is this man altered from the formal
stolidity of his usual manner!--he grows wanton under adversity--Sed
pereunti mille figurae.”--He then proceeded aloud--“Sir Arthur, we must
necessarily speak a little on business.”
“To be sure,” said Sir Arthur; “but it was so good that I should not
know the horse I have ridden these five years--ha! ha! ha!”
“Sir Arthur,” said the Antiquary, “don’t let us waste time which is
precious; we shall have, I hope, many better seasons for jesting--
desipere in loco is the maxim of Horace. I more than suspect this has
been brought on by the villany of Dousterswivel.”
“Don’t mention his name, sir!” said Sir Arthur; and his manner entirely
changed from a fluttered affectation of gaiety to all the agitation
of fury; his eyes sparkled, his mouth foamed, his hands were clenched--
“don’t mention his name, sir,” he vociferated, “unless you would see me
go mad in your presence! That I should have been such a miserable dolt--
such an infatuated idiot--such a beast endowed with thrice a beast’s
stupidity, to be led and driven and spur-galled by such a rascal, and
under such ridiculous pretences!--Mr. Oldbuck, I could tear myself when I
think of it.”
“I only meant to say,” answered the Antiquary, “that this fellow is like
to meet his reward; and I cannot but think we shall frighten something
out of him that may be of service to you. He has certainly had some
unlawful correspondence on the other side of the water.”
“Has he?--has he?--has he indeed?--then d--n the house-hold goods, horses,
and so forth--I will go to prison a happy man, Mr. Oldbuck. I hope in
heaven there’s a reasonable chance of his being hanged?”
“Why, pretty fair,” said Oldbuck, willing to encourage this diversion,
in hopes it might mitigate the feelings which seemed like to overset the
poor man’s understanding; “honester men have stretched a rope, or
the law has been sadly cheated--But this unhappy business of yours--can
nothing be done? Let me see the charge.”
He took the papers; and, as he read them, his countenance grew
hopelessly dark and disconsolate. Miss Wardour had by this time entered
the apartment, and fixing her eyes on Mr. Oldbuck, as if she meant to
read her fate in his looks, easily perceived, from the change in his
eye, and the dropping of his nether-jaw, how little was to be hoped.
“We are then irremediably ruined, Mr. Oldbuck?” said the young lady.
“Irremediably?--I hope not--but the instant demand is very large, and
others will, doubtless, pour in.”
“Ay, never doubt that, Monkbarns,” said Sir Arthur; “where the slaughter
is, the eagles will be gathered together. I am like a sheep which I have
seen fall down a precipice, or drop down from sickness--if you had not
seen a single raven or hooded crow for a fortnight before, he will not
lie on the heather ten minutes before half-a-dozen will be picking
out his eyes (and he drew his hand over his own), and tearing at
his heartstrings before the poor devil has time to die. But that d--d
long-scented vulture that dogged me so long--you have got him fast, I
hope?”
“Fast enough,” said the Antiquary; “the gentleman wished to take the
wings of the morning, and bolt in the what d’ye call it,--the coach and
four there. But he would have found twigs limed for him at Edinburgh. As
it is, he never got so far, for the coach being overturned--as how could
it go safe with such a Jonah?--he has had an infernal tumble, is carried
into a cottage near Kittlebrig, and to prevent all possibility of
escape, I have sent your friend Sweepclean to bring him back to Fairport
in nomine regis, or to act as his sick-nurse at Kittlebrig, as is most
fitting. And now, Sir Arthur, permit me to have some conversation with
you on the present unpleasant state of your affairs, that we may see
what can be done for their extrication;” and the Antiquary led the way
into the library, followed by the unfortunate gentleman.
They had been shut up together for about two hours, when Miss Wardour
interrupted them with her cloak on as if prepared for a journey.
Her countenance was very pale, yet expressive of the composure which
characterized her disposition.
“The messenger is returned, Mr. Oldbuck.”
“Returned?--What the devil! he has not let the fellow go?”
“No--I understand he has carried him to confinement; and now he is
returned to attend my father, and says he can wait no longer.”
A loud wrangling was now heard on the staircase, in which the voice
of Hector predominated. “You an officer, sir, and these ragamuffins a
party! a parcel of beggarly tailor fellows--tell yourselves off by nine,
and we shall know your effective strength.”
The grumbling voice of the man of law was then heard indistinctly
muttering a reply, to which Hector retorted--“Come, come, sir, this won’t
do;--march your party, as you call them, out of this house directly, or
I’ll send you and them to the right about presently.”
“The devil take Hector,” said the Antiquary, hastening to the scene of
action; “his Highland blood is up again, and we shall have him fighting
a duel with the bailiff. Come, Mr. Sweepclean, you must give us a little
time--I know you would not wish to hurry Sir Arthur.”
“By no means, sir,” said the messenger, putting his hat off, which he
had thrown on to testify defiance of Captain M’Intyre’s threats; “but
your nephew, sir, holds very uncivil language, and I have borne too much
of it already; and I am not justified in leaving my prisoner any longer
after the instructions I received, unless I am to get payment of the
sums contained in my diligence.” And he held out the caption, pointing
with the awful truncheon, which he held in his right hand, to the
formidable line of figures jotted upon the back thereof.
Hector, on the other hand, though silent from respect to his uncle,
answered this gesture by shaking his clenched fist at the messenger with
a frown of Highland wrath.
“Foolish boy, be quiet,” said Oldbuck, “and come with me into the room--
the man is doing his miserable duty, and you will only make matters
worse by opposing him.--I fear, Sir Arthur, you must accompany this
man to Fairport; there is no help for it in the first instance--I will
accompany you, to consult what further can be done--My nephew will escort
Miss Wardour to Monkbarns, which I hope she will make her residence
until these unpleasant matters are settled.”
“I go with my father, Mr. Oldbuck,” said Miss Wardour firmly--“I have
prepared his clothes and my own--I suppose we shall have the use of the
carriage?”
“Anything in reason, madam,” said the messenger; “I have ordered it out,
and it’s at the door--I will go on the box with the coachman--I have no
desire to intrude--but two of the concurrents must attend on horseback.”
“I will attend too,” said Hector, and he ran down to secure a horse for
himself.
“We must go then,” said the Antiquary.
“To jail,” said the Baronet, sighing involuntarily. “And what of that?”
he resumed, in a tone affectedly cheerful--“it is only a house we can’t
get out of, after all--Suppose a fit of the gout, and Knockwinnock would
be the same--Ay, ay, Monkbarns--we’ll call it a fit of the gout without
the d--d pain.”
But his eyes swelled with tears as he spoke, and his faltering accent
marked how much this assumed gaiety cost him. The Antiquary wrung his
hand, and, like the Indian Banians, who drive the real terms of an
important bargain by signs, while they are apparently talking of
indifferent matters, the hand of Sir Arthur, by its convulsive return of
the grasp, expressed his sense of gratitude to his friend, and the real
state of his internal agony.--They stepped slowly down the magnificent
staircase--every well-known object seeming to the unfortunate father and
daughter to assume a more prominent and distinct appearance than usual,
as if to press themselves on their notice for the last time.
At the first landing-place, Sir Arthur made an agonized pause; and as
he observed the Antiquary look at him anxiously, he said with assumed
dignity--“Yes, Mr. Oldbuck, the descendant of an ancient line--the
representative of Richard Redhand and Gamelyn de Guardover, may be
pardoned a sigh when he leaves the castle of his fathers thus poorly
escorted. When I was sent to the Tower with my late father, in the year
1745, it was upon a charge becoming our birth--upon an accusation of
high treason, Mr. Oldbuck;--we were escorted from Highgate by a troop of
life-guards, and committed upon a secretary of state’s warrant; and
now, here I am, in my old age, dragged from my household by a miserable
creature like that” (pointing to the messenger), “and for a paltry
concern of pounds, shillings, and pence.”
“At least,” said Oldbuck, “you have now the company of a dutiful
daughter, and a sincere friend, if you will permit me to say so, and
that may be some consolation, even without the certainty that there can
be no hanging, drawing, or quartering, on the present occasion. But I
hear that choleric boy as loud as ever. I hope to God he has got into no
new broil!--it was an accursed chance that brought him here at all.”
In fact, a sudden clamour, in which the loud voice and somewhat northern
accent of Hector was again preeminently distinguished, broke off this
conversation. The cause we must refer to the next CHAPTER.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SECOND.
Fortune, you say, flies from us--She but circles,
Like the fleet sea-bird round the fowler’s skiff,--
Lost in the mist one moment, and the next
Brushing the white sail with her whiter wing,
As if to court the aim.--Experience watches,
And has her on the wheel--
Old Play.
The shout of triumph in Hector’s warlike tones was not easily
distinguished from that of battle. But as he rushed up stairs with a
packet in his hand, exclaiming, “Long life to an old soldier! here
comes Edie with a whole budget of good news!” it became obvious that his
present cause of clamour was of an agreeable nature. He delivered the
letter to Oldbuck, shook Sir Arthur heartily by the hand, and wished
Miss Wardour joy, with all the frankness of Highland congratulation. The
messenger, who had a kind of instinctive terror for Captain M’Intyre,
drew towards his prisoner, keeping an eye of caution on the soldier’s
motions.
“Don’t suppose I shall trouble myself about you, you dirty fellow,” said
the soldier; “there’s a guinea for the fright I have given you; and here
comes an old forty-two man, who is a fitter match for you than I am.”
The messenger (one of those dogs who are not too scornful to eat dirty
puddings) caught in his hand the guinea which Hector chucked at his
face; and abode warily and carefully the turn which matters were now to
take. All voices meanwhile were loud in inquiries, which no one was in a
hurry to answer.
“What is the matter, Captain M’Intyre?” said Sir Arthur.
“Ask old Edie,” said Hector;--“I only know all’s safe and well.”
“What is all this, Edie?” said Miss Wardour to the mendicant.
“Your leddyship maun ask Monkbarns, for he has gotten the yepistolary
correspondensh.”
“God save the king!” exclaimed the Antiquary at the first glance at
the contents of his packet, and, surprised at once out of decorum,
philosophy, and phlegm, he skimmed his cocked hat in the air, from which
it descended not again, being caught in its fall by a branch of the
chandelier. He next, looking joyously round, laid a grasp on his wig,
which he perhaps would have sent after the beaver, had not Edie stopped
his hand, exclaiming “Lordsake! he’s gaun gyte!--mind Caxon’s no here to
repair the damage.”
Every person now assailed the Antiquary, clamouring to know the cause of
so sudden a transport, when, somewhat ashamed of his rapture, he fairly
turned tail, like a fox at the cry of a pack of hounds, and ascending
the stair by two steps at a time, gained the upper landing-place, where,
turning round, he addressed the astonished audience as follows:--
[Illustration: My Good Friends, ‘favete Linguis’]
“My good friends, _favete linguis_--To give you information, I must first,
according to logicians, be possessed of it myself; and, therefore, with
your leaves, I will retire into the library to examine these papers--Sir
Arthur and Miss Wardour will have the goodness to step into the
parlour--Mr. Sweepclean, secede paulisper, or, in your own language,
grant us a supersedere of diligence for five minutes--Hector, draw off
your forces, and make your bear-garden flourish elsewhere--and, finally,
be all of good cheer till my return, which will be instanter.”
The contents of the packet were indeed so little expected, that the
Antiquary might be pardoned, first his ecstasy, and next his desire of
delaying to communicate the intelligence they conveyed, until it was
arranged and digested in his own mind.
Within the envelope was a letter addressed to Jonathan Oldbuck, Esq. of
Monkbarns, of the following purport:--
“Dear Sir,--To you, as my father’s proved and valued friend, I venture to
address myself, being detained here by military duty of a very pressing
nature. You must by this time be acquainted with the entangled state of
our affairs; and I know it will give you great pleasure to learn, that
I am as fortunately as unexpectedly placed in a situation to give
effectual assistance for extricating them. I understand Sir Arthur is
threatened with severe measures by persons who acted formerly as his
agents; and, by advice of a creditable man of business here, I have
procured the enclosed writing, which I understand will stop their
proceedings until their claim shall be legally discussed, and brought
down to its proper amount. I also enclose bills to the amount of one
thousand pounds to pay any other pressing demands, and request of your
friendship to apply them according to your discretion. You will be
surprised I give you this trouble, when it would seem more natural to
address my father directly in his own affairs. But I have yet had no
assurance that his eyes are opened to the character of a person against
whom you have often, I know, warned him, and whose baneful influence
has been the occasion of these distresses. And as I owe the means of
relieving Sir Arthur to the generosity of a matchless friend, it is my
duty to take the most certain measures for the supplies being devoted
to the purpose for which they were destined,--and I know your wisdom and
kindness will see that it is done. My friend, as he claims an interest
in your regard, will explain some views of his own in the enclosed
letter. The state of the post-office at Fairport being rather notorious,
I must send this letter to Tannonburgh; but the old man Ochiltree,
whom particular circumstances have recommended as trustworthy, has
information when the packet is likely to reach that place, and will take
care to forward it. I expect to have soon an opportunity to apologize in
person for the trouble I now give, and have the honour to be your very
faithful servant,
“Reginald Gamelyn Wardour.” “Edinburgh, 6th August, 179-.”
The Antiquary hastily broke the seal of the enclosure, the contents of
which gave him equal surprise and pleasure. When he had in some measure
composed himself after such unexpected tidings, he inspected the other
papers carefully, which all related to business--put the bills into his
pocket-book, and wrote a short acknowledgment to be despatched by that
day’s post, for he was extremely methodical in money matters--and lastly,
fraught with all the importance of disclosure, he descended to the
parlour.
“Sweepclean,” said he, as he entered, to the officer who stood
respectfully at the door, “you must sweep yourself clean out of
Knockwinnock Castle, with all your followers, tag-rag and bob-tail.
Seest thou this paper, man?”
“A sist on a bill o’ suspension,” said the messenger, with a
disappointed look;--“I thought it would be a queer thing if ultimate
diligence was to be done against sic a gentleman as Sir Arthur--Weel,
sir, I’se go my ways with my party--And who’s to pay my charges?”
“They who employed thee,” replied Oldbuck, “as thou full well dost
know.--But here comes another express: this is a day of news, I think.”
This was Mr. Mailsetter on his mare from Fairport, with a letter for
Sir Arthur, another to the messenger, both of which, he said, he was
directed to forward instantly. The messenger opened his, observing that
Greenhorn and Grinderson were good enough men for his expenses, and here
was a letter from them desiring him to stop the diligence. Accordingly,
he immediately left the apartment, and staying no longer than to gather
his posse together, he did then, in the phrase of Hector, who watched
his departure as a jealous mastiff eyes the retreat of a repulsed
beggar, evacuate Flanders.
Sir Arthur’s letter was from Mr. Greenhorn, and a curiosity in its way.
We give it, with the worthy Baronet’s comments.
“Sir--[Oh! I am dear sir no longer; folks are only dear to Messrs.
Greenhorn and Grinderson when they are in adversity]--Sir, I am much
concerned to learn, on my return from the country, where I was called
on particular business [a bet on the sweepstakes, I suppose], that my
partner had the impropriety, in my absence, to undertake the concerns of
Messrs. Goldiebirds in preference to yours, and had written to you in an
unbecoming manner. I beg to make my most humble apology, as well as Mr.
Grindersons--[come, I see he can write for himself and partner too]--and
trust it is impossible you can think me forgetful of, or ungrateful
for, the constant patronage which my family [his family! curse him for a
puppy!] have uniformly experienced from that of Knockwinnock. I am sorry
to find, from an interview I had this day with Mr. Wardour, that he is
much irritated, and, I must own, with apparent reason. But in order to
remedy as much as in me lies the mistake of which he complains [pretty
mistake, indeed! to clap his patron into jail], I have sent this express
to discharge all proceedings against your person or property; and at the
same time to transmit my respectful apology. I have only to add, that
Mr. Grinderson is of opinion, that if restored to your confidence,
he could point out circumstances connected with Messrs. Goldiebirds’
present claim which would greatly reduce its amount [so, so, willing
to play the rogue on either side]; and that there is not the slightest
hurry in settling the balance of your accompt with us; and that I am,
for Mr. G. as well as myself, Dear Sir [O ay, he has written himself
into an approach to familiarity], your much obliged and most humble
servant,
“Gilbert Greenhorn.”