They sate down accordingly; and Lord Glenallan briefly narrated his

unhappy family history—his concealed marriage—the horrible invention by

which his mother had designed to render impossible that union which had

already taken place. He detailed the arts by which the Countess, having

all the documents relative to Miss Neville's birth in her hands, had

produced those only relating to a period during which, for family

reasons, his father had consented to own that young lady as his natural

daughter, and showed how impossible it was that he could either suspect

or detect the fraud put upon him by his mother, and vouched by the oaths

of her attendants, Teresa and Elspeth. "I left my paternal mansion," he

concluded, "as if the furies of hell had driven me forth, and travelled

with frantic velocity I knew not whither. Nor have I the slightest

recollection of what I did or whither I went, until I was discovered by

my brother. I will not trouble you with an account of my sick-bed and

recovery, or how, long afterwards, I ventured to inquire after the

sharer of my misfortunes, and heard that her despair had found a

dreadful remedy for all the ills of life. The first thing that roused me

to thought was hearing of your inquiries into this cruel business; and

you will hardly wonder, that, believing what I did believe, I should

join in those expedients to stop your investigation, which my brother

and mother had actively commenced. The information which I gave them

concerning the circumstances and witnesses of our private marriage

enabled them to baffle your zeal. The clergyman, therefore, and

witnesses, as persons who had acted in the matter only to please the

powerful heir of Glenallan, were accessible to his promises and threats,

and were so provided for, that they had no objections to leave this

country for another. For myself, Mr. Oldbuck," pursued this unhappy man,

"from that moment I considered myself as blotted out of the book of

the living, and as having nothing left to do with this world. My mother

tried to reconcile me to life by every art—even by intimations which I

can now interpret as calculated to produce a doubt of the horrible tale

she herself had fabricated. But I construed all she said as the fictions

of maternal affection. I will forbear all reproach. She is no more—and,

as her wretched associate said, she knew not how the dart was poisoned,

or how deep it must sink, when she threw it from her hand. But, Mr.

Oldbuck, if ever, during these twenty years, there crawled upon earth a

living being deserving of your pity, I have been that man. My food has

not nourished me—my sleep has not refreshed me—my devotions have not

comforted me— all that is cheering and necessary to man has been to me

converted into poison. The rare and limited intercourse which I have

held with others has been most odious to me. I felt as if I were

bringing the contamination of unnatural and inexpressible guilt among

the gay and the innocent. There have been moments when I had thoughts

of another description—to plunge into the adventures of war, or to brave

the dangers of the traveller in foreign and barbarous climates—to

mingle in political intrigue, or to retire to the stern seclusion of

the anchorites of our religion;—all these are thoughts which have

alternately passed through my mind, but each required an energy,

which was mine no longer, after the withering stroke I had received. I

vegetated on as I could in the same spot—fancy, feeling, judgment,

and health, gradually decaying, like a tree whose bark has been

destroyed,—when first the blossoms fade, then the boughs, until its

state resembles the decayed and dying trunk that is now before you. Do

you now pity and forgive me?"

"My lord," answered the Antiquary, much affected, "my pity—my

forgiveness, you have not to ask, for your dismal story is of itself not

only an ample excuse for whatever appeared mysterious in your conduct,

but a narrative that might move your worst enemies (and I, my lord, was

never of the number) to tears and to sympathy. But permit me to ask what

you now mean to do, and why you have honoured me, whose opinion can be

of little consequence, with your confidence on this occasion?"

"Mr. Oldbuck," answered the Earl, "as I could never have foreseen the

nature of that confession which I have heard this day, I need not say

that I had no formed plan of consulting you, or any one, upon affairs

the tendency of which I could not even have suspected. But I am without

friends, unused to business, and, by long retirement, unacquainted alike

with the laws of the land and the habits of the living generation; and

when, most unexpectedly, I find myself immersed in the matters of which

I know least, I catch, like a drowning man, at the first support that

offers. You are that support, Mr. Oldbuck. I have always heard you

mentioned as a man of wisdom and intelligence—I have known you myself

as a man of a resolute and independent spirit;—and there is one

circumstance," said he, "which ought to combine us in some degree—our

having paid tribute to the same excellence of character in poor Eveline.

You offered yourself to me in my need, and you were already acquainted

with the beginning of my misfortunes. To you, therefore, I have recourse

for advice, for sympathy, for support."

"You shall seek none of them in vain, my lord," said Oldbuck, "so far as

my slender ability extends;—and I am honoured by the preference, whether

it arises from choice, or is prompted by chance. But this is a matter

to be ripely considered. May I ask what are your principal views at

present?"

"To ascertain the fate of my child," said the Earl, "be the consequences

what they may, and to do justice to the honour of Eveline, which I

have only permitted to be suspected to avoid discovery of the yet more

horrible taint to which I was made to believe it liable."

"And the memory of your mother?"

"Must bear its own burden," answered the Earl with a sigh: "better that

she were justly convicted of deceit, should that be found necessary,

than that others should be unjustly accused of crimes so much more

dreadful."

"Then, my lord," said Oldbuck, "our first business must be to put the

information of the old woman, Elspeth, into a regular and authenticated

form."

"That," said Lord Glenallan, "will be at present, I fear, impossible.

She is exhausted herself, and surrounded by her distressed family.

To-morrow, perhaps, when she is alone—and yet I doubt, from her

imperfect sense of right and wrong, whether she would speak out in any

one's presence but my own. I am too sorely fatigued."

"Then, my lord," said the Antiquary, whom the interest of the moment

elevated above points of expense and convenience, which had generally

more than enough of weight with him, "I would propose to your lordship,

instead of returning, fatigued as you are, so far as to Glenallan House,

or taking the more uncomfortable alternative of going to a bad inn at

Fairport, to alarm all the busybodies of the town—I would propose,

I say, that you should be my guest at Monkbarns for this night. By

to-morrow these poor people will have renewed their out-of-doors

vocation—for sorrow with them affords no respite from labour,—and we

will visit the old woman Elspeth alone, and take down her examination."

After a formal apology for the encroachment, Lord Glenallan agreed to

go with him, and underwent with patience in their return home the whole

history of John of the Girnel, a legend which Mr. Oldbuck was never

known to spare any one who crossed his threshold.

The arrival of a stranger of such note, with two saddle-horses and a

servant in black, which servant had holsters on his saddle-bow, and a

coronet upon the holsters, created a general commotion in the house of

Monkbarns. Jenny Rintherout, scarce recovered from the hysterics which

she had taken on hearing of poor Steenie's misfortune, chased about

the turkeys and poultry, cackled and screamed louder than they did,

and ended by killing one-half too many. Miss Griselda made many wise

reflections on the hot-headed wilfulness of her brother, who had

occasioned such devastation, by suddenly bringing in upon them a papist

nobleman. And she ventured to transmit to Mr. Blattergowl some hint of

the unusual slaughter which had taken place in the basse-cour, which

brought the honest clergyman to inquire how his friend Monkbarns had

got home, and whether he was not the worse of being at the funeral, at

a period so near the ringing of the bell for dinner, that the Antiquary

had no choice left but to invite him to stay and bless the meat. Miss

M'Intyre had on her part some curiosity to see this mighty peer, of

whom all had heard, as an eastern caliph or sultan is heard of by his

subjects, and felt some degree of timidity at the idea of encountering a

person, of whose unsocial habits and stern manners so many stories were

told, that her fear kept at least pace with her curiosity. The aged

housekeeper was no less flustered and hurried in obeying the numerous

and contradictory commands of her mistress, concerning preserves, pastry

and fruit, the mode of marshalling and dishing the dinner, the necessity

of not permitting the melted butter to run to oil, and the danger of

allowing Juno—who, though formally banished from the parlour, failed not

to maraud about the out-settlements of the family—to enter the kitchen.

The only inmate of Monkbarns who remained entirely indifferent on this

momentous occasion was Hector M'Intyre, who cared no more for an

Earl than he did for a commoner, and who was only interested in the

unexpected visit, as it might afford some protection against his uncle's

displeasure, if he harboured any, for his not attending the funeral,

and still more against his satire upon the subject of his gallant but

unsuccessful single combat with the phoca, or seal.

To these, the inmates of his household, Oldbuck presented the Earl of

Glenallan, who underwent, with meek and subdued civility, the prosing

speeches of the honest divine, and the lengthened apologies of Miss

Griselda Oldbuck, which her brother in vain endeavoured to abridge.

Before the dinner hour, Lord Glenallan requested permission to retire

a while to his chamber. Mr. Oldbuck accompanied his guest to the Green

Room, which had been hastily prepared for his reception. He looked

around with an air of painful recollection.

"I think," at length he observed, "I think, Mr. Oldbuck, that I have

been in this apartment before."

"Yes, my lord," answered Oldbuck, "upon occasion of an excursion hither

from Knockwinnock—and since we are upon a subject so melancholy, you may

perhaps remember whose taste supplied these lines from Chaucer, which

now form the motto of the tapestry."

"I guess", said the Earl, "though I cannot recollect. She excelled me,

indeed, in literary taste and information, as in everything else; and it

is one of the mysterious dispensations of Providence, Mr. Oldbuck, that

a creature so excellent in mind and body should have been cut off in so

miserable a manner, merely from her having formed a fatal attachment to

such a wretch as I am."

Mr. Oldbuck did not attempt an answer to this burst of the grief

which lay ever nearest to the heart of his guest, but, pressing Lord

Glenallan's hand with one of his own, and drawing the other across his

shaggy eyelashes, as if to brush away a mist that intercepted his sight,

he left the Earl at liberty to arrange himself previous to dinner.

CHAPTER FOURTEENTH

—Life, with you,

Glows in the brain and dances in the arteries;

'Tis like the wine some joyous guest hath quaffed,

That glads the heart and elevates the fancy:

Mine is the poor residuum of the cup,

Vapid, and dull, and tasteless, only soiling,

With its base dregs, the vessel that contains it.

Old Play.

"Now, only think what a man my brother is, Mr. Blattergowl, for a

wise man and a learned man, to bring this Yerl into our house

without speaking a word to a body! And there's the distress of thae

Mucklebackits—we canna get a fin o' fish—and we hae nae time to send

ower to Fairport for beef, and the mutton's but new killed—and that

silly fliskmahoy, Jenny Rintherout, has taen the exies, and done

naething but laugh and greet, the skirl at the tail o' the guffaw, for

twa days successfully—and now we maun ask that strange man, that's as

grand and as grave as the Yerl himsell, to stand at the sideboard! and I

canna gang into the kitchen to direct onything, for he's hovering there,

making some pousowdie* for my Lord, for he doesna eat like ither folk

neither—And how to sort the strange servant man at dinner time—I am

sure, Mr. Blattergowl, a'thegither, it passes my judgment."

* Pousowdie,—Miscellaneous mess.

"Truly, Miss Griselda," replied the divine, "Monkbarns was

inconsiderate. He should have taen a day to see the invitation, as they

do wi' the titular's condescendence in the process of valuation and

sale. But the great man could not have come on a sudden to ony house in

this parish where he could have been better served with vivers—that I

must say— and also that the steam from the kitchen is very gratifying

to my nostrils;—and if ye have ony household affairs to attend to, Mrs.

Griselda, never make a stranger of me—I can amuse mysell very weel with

the larger copy of Erskine's Institutes."

And taking down from the window-seat that amusing folio, (the Scottish

Coke upon Littleton), he opened it, as if instinctively, at the tenth

title of Book Second, "of Teinds or Tythes," and was presently deeply

wrapped up in an abstruse discussion concerning the temporality of

benefices.

The entertainment, about which Miss Oldbuck expressed so much anxiety,

was at length placed upon the table; and the Earl of Glenallan, for the

first time since the date of his calamity, sat at a stranger's board,

surrounded by strangers. He seemed to himself like a man in a dream,

or one whose brain was not fully recovered from the effects of an

intoxicating potion. Relieved, as he had that morning been, from the

image of guilt which had so long haunted his imagination, he felt his

sorrows as a lighter and more tolerable load, but was still unable

to take any share in the conversation that passed around him. It was,

indeed, of a cast very different from that which he had been accustomed

to. The bluntness of Oldbuck, the tiresome apologetic harangues of

his sister, the pedantry of the divine, and the vivacity of the young

soldier, which savoured much more of the camp than of the court, were

all new to a nobleman who had lived in a retired and melancholy state

for so many years, that the manners of the world seemed to him equally

strange and unpleasing. Miss M'Intyre alone, from the natural politeness

and unpretending simplicity of her manners, appeared to belong to that

class of society to which he had been accustomed in his earlier and

better days.

Nor did Lord Glenallan's deportment less surprise the company. Though a

plain but excellent family-dinner was provided (for, as Mr. Blattergowl

had justly said, it was impossible to surprise Miss Griselda when her

larder was empty), and though the Antiquary boasted his best port, and

assimilated it to the Falernian of Horace, Lord Glenallan was proof to

the allurements of both. His servant placed before him a small mess

of vegetables, that very dish, the cooking of which had alarmed Miss

Griselda, arranged with the most minute and scrupulous neatness. He ate

sparingly of these provisions; and a glass of pure water, sparkling from

the fountain-head, completed his repast. Such, his servant said, had

been his lordship's diet for very many years, unless upon the high

festivals of the Church, or when company of the first rank were

entertained at Glenallan House, when he relaxed a little in the

austerity of his diet, and permitted himself a glass or two of wine. But

at Monkbarns, no anchoret could have made a more simple and scanty meal.

The Antiquary was a gentleman, as we have seen, in feeling, but blunt

and careless in expression, from the habit of living with those before

whom he had nothing to suppress. He attacked his noble guest without

scruple on the severity of his regimen.

"A few half-cold greens and potatoes—a glass of ice-cold water to wash

them down—antiquity gives no warrant for it, my lord. This house used

to be accounted a hospitium, a place of retreat for Christians; but your

lordship's diet is that of a heathen Pythagorean, or Indian Bramin—nay,

more severe than either, if you refuse these fine apples."

"I am a Catholic, you are aware," said Lord Glenallan, wishing to escape

from the discussion, "and you know that our church"——

"Lays down many rules of mortification," proceeded the dauntless

Antiquary; "but I never heard that they were quite so rigorously

practised—Bear witness my predecessor, John of the Girnel, or the jolly

Abbot, who gave his name to this apple, my lord."

And as he pared the fruit, in spite of his sister's "O fie, Monkbarns!"

and the prolonged cough of the minister, accompanied by a shake of his

huge wig, the Antiquary proceeded to detail the intrigue which had

given rise to the fame of the abbot's apple with more slyness and

circumstantiality than was at all necessary. His jest (as may readily be

conceived) missed fire, for this anecdote of conventual gallantry failed

to produce the slightest smile on the visage of the Earl. Oldbuck then

took up the subject of Ossian, Macpherson, and Mac-Cribb; but Lord

Glenallan had never so much as heard of any of the three, so little

conversant had he been with modern literature. The conversation was

now in some danger of flagging, or of falling into the hands of Mr.

Blattergowl, who had just pronounced the formidable word, "teind-free,"

when the subject of the French Revolution was started—a political event

on which Lord Glenallan looked with all the prejudiced horror of a

bigoted Catholic and zealous aristocrat. Oldbuck was far from carrying

his detestation of its principles to such a length.

"There were many men in the first Constituent Assembly," he said, "who

held sound Whiggish doctrines, and were for settling the Constitution

with a proper provision for the liberties of the people. And if a set

of furious madmen were now in possession of the government, it was,"

he continued, "what often happened in great revolutions, where extreme

measures are adopted in the fury of the moment, and the State resembles

an agitated pendulum which swings from side to side for some time ere it

can acquire its due and perpendicular station. Or it might be likened to

a storm or hurricane, which, passing over a region, does great damage

in its passage, yet sweeps away stagnant and unwholesome vapours, and

repays, in future health and fertility, its immediate desolation and

ravage."

The Earl shook his head; but having neither spirit nor inclination for

debate, he suffered the argument to pass uncontested.

This discussion served to introduce the young soldier's experiences; and

he spoke of the actions in which he, had been engaged, with modesty,

and at the same time with an air of spirit and zeal which delighted the

Earl, who had been bred up, like others of his house, in the opinion

that the trade of arms was the first duty of man, and believed that to

employ them against the French was a sort of holy warfare.

"What would I give," said he apart to Oldbuck, as they rose to join the

ladies in the drawing-room, "what would I give to have a son of such

spirit as that young gentleman!—He wants something of address and

manner, something of polish, which mixing in good society would soon

give him; but with what zeal and animation he expresses himself—how

fond of his profession—how loud in the praise of others—how modest when

speaking of himself!"

"Hector is much obliged to you, my lord," replied his uncle, gratified,

yet not so much so as to suppress his consciousness of his own mental

superiority over the young soldier; "I believe in my heart nobody ever

spoke half so much good of him before, except perhaps the sergeant of

his company, when was wheedling a Highland recruit to enlist with him.

He is a good lad notwithstanding, although he be not quite the hero your

lordship supposes him, and although my commendations rather attest the

kindness than the vivacity of his character. In fact, his high spirit is

a sort of constitutional vehemence, which attends him in everything he

sets about, and is often very inconvenient to his friends. I saw him

to-day engage in an animated contest with a phoca, or seal (sealgh, our

people more properly call them, retaining the Gothic guttural gh), with

as much vehemence as if he had fought against Dumourier—Marry, my lord,

the phoca had the better, as the said Dumourier had of some other folks.

And he'll talk with equal if not superior rapture of the good behaviour

of a pointer bitch, as of the plan of a campaign."

"He shall have full permission to sport over my grounds," said the Earl,

"if he is so fond of that exercise."

"You will bind him to you, my lord," said Monkbarns, "body and soul:

give him leave to crack off his birding-piece at a poor covey of

partridges or moor-fowl, and he's yours for ever—I will enchant him by

the intelligence. But O, my lord, that you could have seen my phoenix

Lovel!—the very prince and chieftain of the youth of this age; and not

destitute of spirit neither—I promise you he gave my termagant kinsman

a quid pro quo—a Rowland for his Oliver, as the vulgar say, alluding to

the two celebrated Paladins of Charlemagne."

After coffee, Lord Glenallan requested a private interview with the

Antiquary, and was ushered to his library.

"I must withdraw you from your own amiable family," he said, "to involve

you in the perplexities of an unhappy man. You are acquainted with the

world, from which I have long been banished; for Glenallan House has

been to me rather a prison than a dwelling, although a prison which I

had neither fortitude nor spirit to break from."

"Let me first ask your lordship," said the Antiquary, "what are your own

wishes and designs in this matter?"

"I wish most especially," answered Lord Glenallan, "to declare my

luckless marriage, and to vindicate the reputation of the unhappy

Eveline—that is, if you see a possibility of doing so without making

public the conduct of my mother."

"Suum cuique tribuito," said the Antiquary; "do right to everyone. The

memory of that unhappy young lady has too long suffered, and I think it

might be cleared without further impeaching that of your mother, than

by letting it be understood in general that she greatly disapproved and

bitterly opposed the match. All—forgive me, my lord—all who ever

heard of the late Countess of Glenallan, will learn that without much

surprise."

"But you forget one horrible circumstance, Mr. Oldbuck," said the Earl,

in an agitated voice.

"I am not aware of it," replied the Antiquary.

"The fate of the infant—its disappearance with the confidential

attendant of my mother, and the dreadful surmises which may be drawn

from my conversation with Elspeth."

"If you would have my free opinion, my lord," answered Mr. Oldbuck, "and

will not catch too rapidly at it as matter of hope, I would say that it

is very possible the child yet lives. For thus much I ascertained, by my

former inquiries concerning the event of that deplorable evening, that

a child and woman were carried that night from the cottage at the

Craigburnfoot in a carriage and four by your brother Edward Geraldin

Neville, whose journey towards England with these companions I traced

for several stages. I believed then it was a part of the family compact

to carry a child whom you meant to stigmatize with illegitimacy, out of

that country where chance might have raised protectors and proofs of its

rights. But I now think that your brother, having reason, like yourself,

to believe the child stained with shame yet more indelible, had

nevertheless withdrawn it, partly from regard to the honour of his

house, partly from the risk to which it might have been exposed in the

neighbourhood of the Lady Glenallan."

As he spoke, the Earl of Glenallan grew extremely pale, and had nearly

fallen from his chair.—The alarmed Antiquary ran hither and thither

looking for remedies; but his museum, though sufficiently well filled

with a vast variety of useless matters, contained nothing that could be

serviceable on the present or any other occasion. As he posted out

of the room to borrow his sister's salts, he could not help giving a

constitutional growl of chagrin and wonder at the various incidents

which had converted his mansion, first into an hospital for a wounded

duellist, and now into the sick chamber of a dying nobleman. "And yet,"

said he, "I have always kept aloof from the soldiery and the peerage.

My coenobitium has only next to be made a lying-in hospital, and then, I

trow, the transformation will be complete."

When he returned with the remedy, Lord Glenallan was much better.

The new and unexpected light which Mr. Oldbuck had thrown upon the

melancholy history of his family had almost overpowered him. "You think,

then, Mr. Oldbuck—for you are capable of thinking, which I am not—you

think, then, that it is possible—that is, not impossible—my child may

yet live?"

"I think," said the Antiquary, "it is impossible that it could come to

any violent harm through your brother's means. He was known to be a gay

and dissipated man, but not cruel nor dishonourable; nor is it possible,

that, if he had intended any foul play, he would have placed himself so

forward in the charge of the infant, as I will prove to your lordship he

did."

So saying, Mr. Oldbuck opened a drawer of the cabinet of his ancestor

Aldobrand, and produced a bundle of papers tied with a black ribband,

and labelled,—Examinations, etc., taken by Jonathan Oldbuck, J. P., upon

the 18th of February, 17—; a little under was written, in a small

hand, Eheu Evelina! The tears dropped fast from the Earl's eyes, as

he endeavoured, in vain, to unfasten the knot which secured these

documents.

"Your lordship," said Mr. Oldbuck, "had better not read these at

present. Agitated as you are, and having much business before you, you

must not exhaust your strength. Your brother's succession is now, I

presume, your own, and it will be easy for you to make inquiry among

his servants and retainers, so as to hear where the child is, if,

fortunately, it shall be still alive."

"I dare hardly hope it," said the Earl, with a deep sigh. "Why should my

brother have been silent to me?"