"She could not speak mair plainly," answered Elspeth, "without

confessing her ain fraud,—and she would have submitted to be torn by

wild horses, rather than unfold what she had done; and if she had still

lived, so would I for her sake. They were stout hearts the race of

Glenallan, male and female, and sae were a' that in auld times cried

their gathering-word of Clochnaben—they stood shouther to shouther—nae

man parted frae his chief for love of gold or of gain, or of right or of

wrang. The times are changed, I hear, now."

The unfortunate nobleman was too much wrapped up in his own confused

and distracted reflections, to notice the rude expressions of savage

fidelity, in which, even in the latest ebb of life, the unhappy author

of his misfortunes seemed to find a stern and stubborn source of

consolation.

"Great Heaven!" he exclaimed, "I am then free from a guilt the most

horrible with which man can be stained, and the sense of which, however

involuntary, has wrecked my peace, destroyed my health, and bowed me

down to an untimely grave. Accept," he fervently uttered, lifting his

eyes upwards, "accept my humble thanks! If I live miserable, at least

I shall not die stained with that unnatural guilt!—And thou—proceed if

thou hast more to tell—proceed, while thou hast voice to speak it, and I

have powers to listen."

"Yes," answered the beldam, "the hour when you shall hear, and I shall

speak, is indeed passing rapidly away. Death has crossed your brow with

his finger, and I find his grasp turning every day coulder at my heart.

Interrupt me nae mair with exclamations and groans and accusations, but

hear my tale to an end! And then—if ye be indeed sic a Lord of Glenallan

as I hae heard of in my day—make your merrymen gather the thorn, and

the brier, and the green hollin, till they heap them as high as the

house-riggin', and burn! burn! burn! the auld witch Elspeth, and a' that

can put ye in mind that sic a creature ever crawled upon the land!"

"Go on," said the Earl, "go on—I will not again interrupt you."

He spoke in a half-suffocated yet determined voice, resolved that no

irritability on his part should deprive him of this opportunity of

acquiring proofs of the wonderful tale he then heard. But Elspeth had

become exhausted by a continuous narration of such unusual length;

the subsequent part of her story was more broken, and though still

distinctly intelligible in most parts, had no longer the lucid

conciseness which the first part of her narrative had displayed to such

an astonishing degree. Lord Glenallan found it necessary, when she had

made some attempts to continue her narrative without success, to prompt

her memory by demanding—"What proofs she could propose to bring of the

truth of a narrative so different from that which she had originally

told?"

"The evidence," she replied, "of Eveline Neville's real birth was in

the Countess's possession, with reasons for its being for some time kept

private;—they may yet be found, if she has not destroyed them, in the

left hand drawer of the ebony cabinet that stood in the dressing-room.

These she meant to suppress for the time, until you went abroad again,

when she trusted, before your return, to send Miss Neville back to her

ain country, or to get her settled in marriage."

"But did you not show me letters of my father's, which seemed to me,

unless my senses altogether failed me in that horrible moment, to avow

his relationship to—to the unhappy"—

"We did; and, with my testimony, how could you doubt the fact, or her

either? But we suppressed the true explanation of these letters, and

that was, that your father thought it right the young leddy should pass

for his daughter for a while, on account o'some family reasons that were

amang them."

"But wherefore, when you learned our union, was this dreadful artifice

persisted in?"

"It wasna," she replied, "till Lady Glenallan had communicated this

fause tale, that she suspected ye had actually made a marriage—nor even

then did you avow it sae as to satisfy her whether the ceremony had in

verity passed atween ye or no—But ye remember, O ye canna but remember

weel, what passed in that awfu' meeting!"

"Woman! you swore upon the gospels to the fact which you now disavow."

"I did,—and I wad hae taen a yet mair holy pledge on it, if there had

been ane—I wad not hae spared the blood of my body, or the guilt of my

soul, to serve the house of Glenallan."

"Wretch! do you call that horrid perjury, attended with consequences

yet more dreadful—do you esteem that a service to the house of your

benefactors?"

"I served her, wha was then the head of Glenallan, as she required me

to serve her. The cause was between God and her conscience—the manner

between God and mine—She is gane to her account, and I maun follow. Have

I taulds you a'?"

"No," answered Lord Glenallan—"you have yet more to tell—you have to

tell me of the death of the angel whom your perjury drove to despair,

stained, as she thought herself, with a crime so horrible. Speak

truth— was that dreadful—was that horrible incident"—he could scarcely

articulate the words—"was it as reported? or was it an act of yet

further, though not more atrocious cruelty, inflicted by others?"

"I understand you," said Elspeth. "But report spoke truth;—our false

witness was indeed the cause, but the deed was her ain distracted act.

On that fearfu' disclosure, when ye rushed frae the Countess's presence

and saddled your horse, and left the castle like a fire-flaught, the

Countess hadna yet discovered your private marriage; she hadna fund out

that the union, which she had framed this awfu' tale to prevent, had

e'en taen place. Ye fled from the house as if the fire o' Heaven was

about to fa' upon it, and Miss Neville, atween reason and the want

o't, was put under sure ward. But the ward sleep't, and the prisoner

waked—the window was open—the way was before her—there was the cliff,

and there was the sea!—O, when will I forget that!"

"And thus died," said the Earl, "even so as was reported?"

"No, my lord. I had gane out to the cove—the tide was in, and it flowed,

as ye'll remember, to the foot o' that cliff—it was a great convenience

that for my husband's trade—Where am I wandering?—I saw a white object

dart frae the tap o' the cliff like a sea-maw through the mist, and

then a heavy flash and sparkle of the waters showed me it was a human

creature that had fa'en into the waves. I was bold and strong, and

familiar with the tide. I rushed in and grasped her gown, and drew

her out and carried her on my shouthers—I could hae carried twa sic

then—carried her to my hut, and laid her on my bed. Neighbours cam and

brought help; but the words she uttered in her ravings, when she got

back the use of speech, were such, that I was fain to send them awa,

and get up word to Glenallan House. The Countess sent down her Spanish

servant Teresa—if ever there was a fiend on earth in human form, that

woman was ane. She and I were to watch the unhappy leddy, and let no

other person approach.—God knows what Teresa's part was to hae been—she

tauld it not to me—but Heaven took the conclusion in its ain hand. The

poor leddy! she took the pangs of travail before her time, bore a

male child, and died in the arms of me—of her mortal enemy! Ay, ye may

weep—she was a sightly creature to see to—but think ye, if I didna mourn

her then, that I can mourn her now? Na, na, I left Teresa wi' the dead

corpse and new-born babe, till I gaed up to take the Countess's commands

what was to be done. Late as it was, I ca'd her up, and she gar'd me ca'

up your brother"—

"My brother?"

"Yes, Lord Geraldin, e'en your brother, that some said she aye wished

to be her heir. At ony rate, he was the person maist concerned in the

succession and heritance of the house of Glenallan."

"And is it possible to believe, then, that my brother, out of avarice to

grasp at my inheritance, would lend himself to such a base and dreadful

stratagem?"

"Your mother believed it," said the old beldam with a fiendish laugh—"it

was nae plot of my making; but what they did or said I will not say,

because I did not hear. Lang and sair they consulted in the black

wainscot dressing-room; and when your brother passed through the room

where I was waiting, it seemed to me (and I have often thought sae since

syne) that the fire of hell was in his cheek and een. But he had left

some of it with his mother, at ony rate. She entered the room like a

woman demented, and the first words she spoke were, Elspeth Cheyne, did

you ever pull a new-budded flower?' I answered, as ye may believe, that

I often had. Then,' said she, ye will ken the better how to blight

the spurious and heretical blossom that has sprung forth this night to

disgrace my father's noble house—See here;'—(and she gave me a golden

bodkin)—nothing but gold must shed the blood of Glenallan. This child is

already as one of the dead, and since thou and Teresa alone ken that

it lives, let it be dealt upon as ye will answer to me!' and she turned

away in her fury, and left me with the bodkin in my hand.—Here it

is; that and the ring of Miss Neville, are a' I hae preserved of my

ill-gotten gear—for muckle was the gear I got. And weel hae I keepit the

secret, but no for the gowd or gear either."

Her long and bony hand held out to Lord Glenallan a gold bodkin, down

which in fancy he saw the blood of his infant trickling.

"Wretch! had you the heart?"

"I kenna if I could hae had it or no. I returned to my cottage without

feeling the ground that I trode on; but Teresa and the child were gane—

a' that was alive was gane—naething left but the lifeless corpse."

"And did you never learn my infant's fate?"

"I could but guess. I have tauld ye your mother's purpose, and I ken

Teresa was a fiend. She was never mair seen in Scotland, and I have

heard that she returned to her ain land. A dark curtain has fa'en ower

the past, and the few that witnessed ony part of it could only surmise

something of seduction and suicide. You yourself"—

"I know—I know it all," answered the Earl.

"You indeed know all that I can say—And now, heir of Glenallan, can you

forgive me?" Lord Glenallen and Elspeth

"Ask forgiveness of God, and not of man," said the Earl, turning away.

"And how shall I ask of the pure and unstained what is denied to me by

a sinner like mysell? If I hae sinned, hae I not suffered?—Hae I had a

day's peace or an hour's rest since these lang wet locks of hair first

lay upon my pillow at Craigburnfoot?—Has not my house been burned, wi'

my bairn in the cradle?—Have not my boats been wrecked, when a' others

weather'd the gale?—Have not a' that were near and dear to me dree'd

penance for my sin?—Has not the fire had its share o' them—the winds had

their part—the sea had her part?—And oh!" she added, with a lengthened

groan, looking first upwards towards Heaven, and then bending her eyes

on the floor—"O that the earth would take her part, that's been lang

lang wearying to be joined to it!"

Lord Glenallan had reached the door of the cottage, but the generosity

of his nature did not permit him to leave the unhappy woman in this

state of desperate reprobation. "May God forgive thee, wretched woman,"

he said, "as sincerely as I do!—Turn for mercy to Him who can alone

grant mercy, and may your prayers be heard as if they were mine own!—I

will send a religious man."

"Na, na—nae priest! nae priest!" she ejaculated; and the door of the

cottage opening as she spoke, prevented her from proceeding.

CHAPTER THIRTEENTH.

Still in his dead hand clenched remain the strings

That thrill his father's heart—e'en as the limb,

Lopped off and laid in grave, retains, they tell us,

Strange commerce with the mutilated stump,

Whose nerves are twinging still in maimed existence.

Old Play.

The Antiquary, as we informed the reader in the end of the thirty-first

CHAPTER, [tenth] had shaken off the company of worthy Mr. Blattergowl,

although he offered to entertain him with an abstract of the ablest

speech he had ever known in the teind court, delivered by the procurator

for the church in the remarkable case of the parish of Gatherem.

Resisting this temptation, our senior preferred a solitary path, which

again conducted him to the cottage of Mucklebackit. When he came in

front of the fisherman's hut, he observed a man working intently, as if

to repair a shattered boat which lay upon the beach, and going up to him

was surprised to find it was Mucklebackit himself. "I am glad," he said

in a tone of sympathy—"I am glad, Saunders, that you feel yourself able

to make this exertion."

"And what would ye have me to do," answered the fisher gruffly, "unless

I wanted to see four children starve, because ane is drowned? It's weel

wi' you gentles, that can sit in the house wi' handkerchers at your een

when ye lose a friend; but the like o' us maun to our wark again, if our

hearts were beating as hard as my hammer."

Without taking more notice of Oldbuck, he proceeded in his labour; and

the Antiquary, to whom the display of human nature under the influence

of agitating passions was never indifferent, stood beside him, in silent

attention, as if watching the progress of the work. He observed more

than once the man's hard features, as if by the force of association,

prepare to accompany the sound of the saw and hammer with his usual

symphony of a rude tune, hummed or whistled,—and as often a slight

twitch of convulsive expression showed, that ere the sound was uttered,

a cause for suppressing it rushed upon his mind. At length, when he

had patched a considerable rent, and was beginning to mend another, his

feelings appeared altogether to derange the power of attention necessary

for his work. The piece of wood which he was about to nail on was at

first too long; then he sawed it off too short, then chose another

equally ill adapted for the purpose. At length, throwing it down in

anger, after wiping his dim eye with his quivering hand, he exclaimed,

"There is a curse either on me or on this auld black bitch of a boat,

that I have hauled up high and dry, and patched and clouted sae mony

years, that she might drown my poor Steenie at the end of them, an' be

d—d to her!" and he flung his hammer against the boat, as if she had

been the intentional cause of his misfortune. Then recollecting himself,

he added, "Yet what needs ane be angry at her, that has neither soul nor

sense?—though I am no that muckle better mysell. She's but a rickle

o' auld rotten deals nailed thegither, and warped wi' the wind and the

sea—and I am a dour carle, battered by foul weather at sea and land till

I am maist as senseless as hersell. She maun be mended though again the

morning tide— that's a thing o' necessity."

Thus speaking, he went to gather together his instruments, and attempt

to resume his labour,—but Oldbuck took him kindly by the arm. "Come,

come," he said, "Saunders, there is no work for you this day—I'll send

down Shavings the carpenter to mend the boat, and he may put the day's

work into my account—and you had better not come out to-morrow, but stay

to comfort your family under this dispensation, and the gardener will

bring you some vegetables and meal from Monkbarns."

"I thank ye, Monkbarns," answered the poor fisher; "I am a plain-spoken

man, and hae little to say for mysell; I might hae learned fairer

fashions frae my mither lang syne, but I never saw muckle gude they did

her; however, I thank ye. Ye were aye kind and neighbourly, whatever

folk says o' your being near and close; and I hae often said, in thae

times when they were ganging to raise up the puir folk against the

gentles—I hae often said, neer a man should steer a hair touching to

Monkbarns while Steenie and I could wag a finger—and so said Steenie

too. And, Monkbarns, when ye laid his head in the grave (and mony thanks

for the respect), ye, saw the mouls laid on an honest lad that likit you

weel, though he made little phrase about it."

Oldbuck, beaten from the pride of his affected cynicism, would not

willingly have had any one by on that occasion to quote to him his

favourite maxims of the Stoic philosophy. The large drops fell fast

from his own eyes, as he begged the father, who was now melted at

recollecting the bravery and generous sentiments of his son, to forbear

useless sorrow, and led him by the arm towards his own home, where

another scene awaited our Antiquary.

As he entered, the first person whom he beheld was Lord Glenallan.

Mutual surprise was in their countenances as they saluted each

other—with haughty reserve on the part of Mr. Oldbuck, and embarrassment

on that of the Earl.

"My Lord Glenallan, I think?" said Mr. Oldbuck.

"Yes—much changed from what he was when he knew Mr. Oldbuck."

"I do not mean," said the Antiquary, "to intrude upon your lordship—I

only came to see this distressed family."

"And you have found one, sir, who has still greater claims on your

compassion."

"My compassion? Lord Glenallan cannot need my compassion. If Lord

Glenallan could need it, I think he would hardly ask it."

"Our former acquaintance," said the Earl—

"Is of such ancient date, my lord—was of such short duration, and was

connected with circumstances so exquisitely painful, that I think we may

dispense with renewing it."

So saying, the Antiquary turned away, and left the hut; but Lord

Glenallan followed him into the open air, and, in spite of a hasty "Good

morning, my lord," requested a few minutes' conversation, and the favour

of his advice in an important matter.

"Your lordship will find many more capable to advise you, my lord, and

by whom your intercourse will be deemed an honour. For me, I am a man

retired from business and the world, and not very fond of raking up

the past events of my useless life;—and forgive me if I say, I have

particular pain in reverting to that period of it when I acted like a

fool, and your lordship like"—He stopped short.

"Like a villain, you would say," said Lord Glenallan—"for such I must

have appeared to you."

"My lord—my lord, I have no desire to hear your shrift," said the

Antiquary.

"But, sir, if I can show you that I am more sinned against than sinning—

that I have been a man miserable beyond the power of description, and

who looks forward at this moment to an untimely grave as to a haven

of rest, you will not refuse the confidence which, accepting your

appearance at this critical moment as a hint from Heaven, I venture thus

to press on you."

"Assuredly, my lord, I shall shun no longer the continuation of this

extraordinary interview."

"I must then recall to you our occasional meetings upwards of twenty

years since at Knockwinnock Castle,—and I need not remind you of a lady

who was then a member of that family."

"The unfortunate Miss Eveline Neville, my lord; I remember it well."

"Towards whom you entertained sentiments"—

"Very different from those with which I before and since have regarded

her sex. Her gentleness, her docility, her pleasure in the studies which

I pointed out to her, attached my affections more than became my age

though that was not then much advanced—or the solidity of my character.

But I need not remind your lordship of the various modes in which you

indulged your gaiety at the expense of an awkward and retired student,

embarrassed by the expression of feelings so new to him, and I have no

doubt that the young lady joined you in the well-deserved ridicule—it is

the way of womankind. I have spoken at once to the painful circumstances

of my addresses and their rejection, that your lordship may be satisfied

everything is full in my memory, and may, so far as I am concerned, tell

your story without scruple or needless delicacy."

"I will," said Lord Glenallan. "But first let me say, you do injustice

to the memory of the gentlest and kindest, as well as to the most

unhappy of women, to suppose she could make a jest of the honest

affection of a man like you. Frequently did she blame me, Mr. Oldbuck,

for indulging my levity at your expense—may I now presume you will

excuse the gay freedoms which then offended you?—my state of mind

has never since laid me under the necessity of apologizing for the

inadvertencies of a light and happy temper."

"My lord, you are fully pardoned," said Mr. Oldbuck. "You should be

aware, that, like all others, I was ignorant at the time that I placed

myself in competition with your lordship, and understood that Miss

Neville was in a state of dependence which might make her prefer a

competent independence and the hand of an honest man—But I am wasting

time—I would I could believe that the views entertained towards her by

others were as fair and honest as mine!"

"Mr. Oldbuck, you judge harshly."

"Not without cause, my lord. When I only, of all the magistrates of this

county—having neither, like some of them, the honour to be connected

with your powerful family—nor, like others, the meanness to fear it,—

when I made some inquiry into the manner of Miss Neville's death—I shake

you, my lord, but I must be plain—I do own I had every reason to believe

that she had met most unfair dealing, and had either been imposed upon

by a counterfeit marriage, or that very strong measures had been adopted

to stifle and destroy the evidence of a real union. And I cannot doubt

in my own mind, that this cruelty on your lordship's part, whether

coming of your own free will, or proceeding from the influence of the

late Countess, hurried the unfortunate young lady to the desperate act

by which her life was terminated."

"You are deceived, Mr. Oldbuck, into conclusions which are not just,

however naturally they flow from the circumstances. Believe me, I

respected you even when I was most embarrassed by your active attempts

to investigate our family misfortunes. You showed yourself more worthy

of Miss Neville than I, by the spirit with which you persisted in

vindicating her reputation even after her death. But the firm belief

that your well-meant efforts could only serve to bring to light a story

too horrible to be detailed, induced me to join my unhappy mother in

schemes to remove or destroy all evidence of the legal union which had

taken place between Eveline and myself. And now let us sit down on

this bank,— for I feel unable to remain longer standing,—and have the

goodness to listen to the extraordinary discovery which I have this day

made."