her and Jenny Jackson, who had been her playmate and confidant from the
earliest period of her recollection. But somewhat more than a year
previous to the time here referred to, Jenny had arrived at that age
when it is common for parents in a certain station to send their
daughters to "service out amang the farmers round," as Burns has phrased
it, that they "may learn something of the world." This, at least, is
almost always assigned as a general reason for such a step, and almost
as often taken for granted. There are, however, several adjuncts, which
nobody ever thinks of mentioning, and sundry little motives of a private
or personal nature, which are not without their influence in determining
both the parents and the girls themselves upon the propriety of going
abroad. In the first place, when a young woman comes to be married--and
most of them have a sort of presentiment that, at one time or other,
they will have the _misfortune_ to be so--she is always expected to
provide, or bring along with her, a certain share of the furnishing of a
house. Her share having been fixed by a sort of conventional laws, there
is no escaping from it: at least there can be but little prospect of an
honourable settlement in life without it--the other sex having, in
general, enough to do with their own part of the concern, and being by
no means more disinterested than the "true love" ballad-makers have
represented them. To enable her to make this provision, the parents of a
portionless lass can seldom do more than lend her some little assistance
in the way of advice and management, leaving her to procure the
wherewithal, or, in other words, the money with which the furnishing of
houses, and everything else, must be purchased by her own industry. Thus
left, service in the country, and some regular occupation, such as the
art of weaving in the towns, are the only alternatives; and to one or
other of these she must early devote her attention, if she intends to be
in the field of matrimony within a reasonable time.
To those who are acquainted with the tactics of the tender passion, it
is, moreover, known that a bashful lover seldom cares for seeking the
society of his fair one in the presence of her parents, while the fair
one herself as seldom cares for being seen in the society of a lover by
these relations. In such matters, a great deal of deceit, or, to speak
more properly, of concealment, must be practised. There is a luxury in
keeping all those delightful feelings, hopes, fears, fancies, and
follies to one's-self; more than half the excitement of the thing, and
consequently more than half its pleasure, would be destroyed if the
secret were too soon divulged; and for some such reason, perhaps, your
enamoured swain fears the eye of a mother, as being an interested party,
and likely to be quick-sighted, more than that of any other human being.
Whatever be the cause, the effect which it produces seems to be
tolerably well understood by a very great majority of marriageable young
women; and out of pity, as it would appear, for the failings of the
other sex in general, and those of bashful young men in particular, they
are sometimes willing to afford wooers an opportunity of seeing them in
a less embarrassing situation.
Influenced by one or other, or both or neither of these reasons,
motives, or whatever the reader chooses to call them, Jenny Jackson,
with her mother's consent, engaged herself as a servant at a place
called Heatherinch; and after having been nearly three quarters of a
year in her place, she represented the advantages of "going to service"
in so favourable a light, that her young friend, Mary M'Kenzie, felt
inclined to listen to any proposal which might give her a chance of
similar advantages. Such a proposal was not long awanting; for it
appeared that Jenny really had a situation in her eye, and that her
previous discourse had been intended to prepare her friend for accepting
it. Shortly thereafter, Mary was accordingly engaged to go at the
ensuing Martinmas in the capacity of a servant girl to Cairnybraes,
which was a farm lying at the distance of only a mile or so from
Heatherinch; and she promised herself a whole world of satisfaction in
being again so near her friend.
Here the reader will, no doubt, be inclined to think that Jenny was
perfectly disinterested in these matters, and that she could have no
motive for doing as she had done, except a wish to promote Mary's
happiness. But, alas! how much of disinterestedness, charity,
benevolence, and even piety itself, would disappear, if we could only
apply the science of chemistry to the heart! Neither acids nor alkalis,
however, can be brought to act upon it; and as for the crucible, the
copple, and the fusing-pot, they are out of the question, so that a
chemical analysis is not to be expected; and in the absence of such
tests, we can only judge of causes from effects; or, in other words, we
must judge of the heart from actions and appearances. Be it known then,
that, within the first half-year of Jenny's service, two young men, who
were also servants on the farm, had taken it into their heads to
manifest rather more than an ordinary attachment to her. This she told
not; but people do not expect to be told of such matters, and in the
present instance they ascertained, or rather guessed, the truth, without
any evidence from her. Their names were Andrew Angus and James Duff.
Like herself, they were both engaged to remain for another year; and
though Jenny might have managed their attentions and their addresses
without much trouble, had they been only lodged at a tolerable
distance, she found it rather distressing to have them constantly so
near her. In this emergency, it occurred to her that it were better to
have one of them "taken off her hand;" for the performance of this feat,
her friend, Mary M'Kenzie, was the most likely individual she could
think of; and for Mary's future lover Andrew was set apart.
At the appointed time, Mary came to reside at Cairnybraes; but, as seeds
cannot vegetate unless they are put into the ground, so neither can
young people acquire an affection for each other unless they are brought
together. Jenny could not muster courage enough to tell Andrew to "go
and see Mary;" she did not like to bid Mary "come and see him;" and,
therefore, she had recourse to manoeuvring. The host of the Gazling
Inn, on considering the case of his humble brethren, and the few
opportunities they had of enjoying themselves, had agreed to give a
New-year's entertainment to as many of them as could afford to pay
half-a-crown. According to the advertisement on this occasion put forth,
the said brethren, for their half-crowns, were to have the privilege of
bringing an equal number of _sistren_ along with them. It was farther
stipulated, that they should have a sufficiency of tea, sugar, bread,
and butter set before them, or rather dealt out to them; a man with a
fiddle and a fiddlestick was also to be provided, for those who might be
inclined to dance; after which, all and sundry were to have as much
liquor as they should choose to drink and _pay for_. Such an opportunity
was by no means to be neglected, and the only matter of importance which
Jenny had now to decide upon was, how she might procure a partner for
Mary with whom _she_ was not likely to fall in love. Andrew must be
managed cautiously, lest he should become restive, and more stubbornly
attached to herself than he had been before. He had no previous
acquaintance of Mary, and it were both awkward and indelicate, she
argued, to send him off to seek a woman to whom he had not so much as
spoken on any former occasion. She, moreover, did not like the idea of
_dismissing_ him, which would have been implied in such a proceeding.
She therefore deemed it best to bring the _candle to the moth_, as if by
accident, and allow him to flutter around it till he was fairly singed.
For this purpose, a neighbouring rustic, called Ritchie Drycraig, was
selected as one who was likely to perform his part, and, at the same
time, leave Mary's heart free to be impressed with the image of another.
By a slight exercise of maiden ingenuity, a little coaxing, and some sly
hints, Ritchie was induced to set forth on his mission. The expected
evening came--the various parties made their appearance--and so far all
was right.
Burns has told us, that
"there is an ending quote. The best-laid schemes o' mice and men
Gang aft agley;"
and fortunate it were for the world, if mice and men were the only
portions of society to whose schemes accident might give a wrong
direction; but, alas! there is no perfection on this earth, and the
schemes of women miscarry almost as often as those of their neighbours.
Contrary to all reasonable expectation, and to everything like rational
conduct, Andrew took no notice of Mary, while James Duff seemed to
regard her with considerable attention, and "puir drucken Ritchie"
appeared to be perfectly bewitched by her presence. With respect to Mary
herself, it was easy to see that she was rather pleased than otherwise
with those indirect attentions and little notices which, in the course
of the evening, she received from the said James Duff; and,
notwithstanding his previous attachment to Jenny, it almost appeared
that he would have volunteered his service to conduct her home. But vain
was every attempt of the kind. Even if the maiden had been willing to
accept of such service, from Ritchie there was no possibility of
escaping. Mary had little skill in these matters; she could not manage
them after the manner of well-bred damsels, and her only alternative was
to allow him to carry her off.
At first Ritchie was "a' crack thegither;" but scarcely had they got
beyond the precincts of the Gazling Inn, when the conversation began to
flag, and, after a considerable silence, which his companion had in vain
endeavoured to break--
"Mary," said he, prefacing his discourse with sundry hiccups, "I've fa'n
in love wi' ye."
"Fa' out o't as fast as possible, then," said Mary, attempting to laugh,
though she really began to feel alarmed.
"Oh, Mary, Mary!" again began the maudlin young man most pathetically to
plead. "Oh, Mary, if ye only kenned what a heart I have, and how aften
I've lookit at you when I never spake a word, ye wad never bid me do
that."
"Lookit at _me_," rejoined the other, affecting to be greatly surprised;
"and pray what may the price of a _look_ be? If looks are to be made
debts, I doubt my little property, which consists only of the claes on
my back, will soon fail, and I must become a bankrupt."
"Ah, Mary," persevered her undaunted wooer, "ye ken brawly what I mean;
but you surely never kenned what it was to be in love, or ye wad never
jeer a body that way."
"Love, they say, is warm," replied Mary, "and I would rather be _in it_,
or in my master's kitchen, or in my bed, or anywhere else, than _out_ in
this cauld night; so, if you do not walk faster, I shall be forced to
run away and leave you."
"My dear Mary," said he of the Drycraig, mending his pace a little,
though it was evident he did so with great reluctance--"my dear Mary, I
could gang at the gallop, or I could gang like a snail, or I could gang
owre a linn and drown mysel, or owre a craig and brak my neck, or speak,
or haud my tongue, or do ony other thing on earth, for your sake, if ye
would only allow me to love ye, and say ye loved me again."
"Weel, I must confess you would do a great deal for me," said Mary,
beginning to enjoy his extravagance--teasing as he had become--and
scarcely able to refrain from laughing at him; "you would really do a
great deal; but take my advice for the present: keep your head above
water, and your neck hale as lang as ye can; neither gang owre the linn
nor the craig, but the neist time you are in a company, let fewer linns
gang owre your _ain_ craig; and, in the meantime, neither speak of love,
nor haud your tongue a'thegither, but _gang at the gallop_!--that will
please me best; for my mistress must be angry at me for staying out sae
late. Or, stop! I might run a race with you for a penny--the loser to
pay the stake--and then, I can tell you some other time whether you are
to love me or not. Maidens, they say, should aye be mealy-mouthed at
first."
As she uttered these words, she secretly determined, if possible, never
to give him another opportunity of making such a proposition. She also
resolved to bear with him for the present, and leave him to learn her
real sentiments from her future conduct. A crisis, however, was
approaching which she had not foreseen, and for which she was wholly
unprepared. Her protector, who had drank rather too liberally at the
Gazling Inn, was now beginning to be in such a state that he would have
almost required a protector himself. The moment he heard Mary's
light-hearted declaration, his emotion seemed to overcome him, he made a
dead stand, and exclaimed, in the most piteous accents--
"I canna gang anither fit!"
"Foul fa' you and your feet baith," said Mary, forgetting the resolution
which she had formed only a minute ago, and nearly losing her
good-humour at the same time. "I tell ye," she continued, "that I should
been hame lang syne, and d'ye think that I can bide here the hale night
to hear you haver nonsense."
"O Mary, Mary!" rejoined the man of exclamations, "this sets the crown
on a' my misfortunes, and I'll never do mair guid. Twice owre this same
night I saw you looking at Jamie Duff: ye love him, and no me. O Mary,
Mary, Mary!" and therewith he threw himself down upon the earth, or
rather in a puddle of dirty water by the road-side, at full length, and
began to weep and groan, in great tribulation. When his inarticulate
wailings would permit, he again muttered half sentences about walking
over the linn or the craig, and he even threw out hints of an intention
to leave the world in that most ungentlemanly manner in which the law
sometimes disposes of very dissolute characters. As the liquor with
which he had been drenching his system had no doubt heightened the
effects of his sensibility, his sensibility now heightened the effects
of the liquor; and between them he was soon in a sad state of mental as
well as bodily distemperature.
Mary, who had little experience in these matters, would have readily
given all the worlds which all the Alexanders and Caesars on earth ever
conquered, had she been mistress of them, for some one to assist her in
conducting him to any house where he might find shelter for the night,
or perhaps, as she thought, a bed on which he might breathe his last.
Fortunately for her, she soon heard the noise of footsteps approaching;
and, in a few minutes more, she had the satisfaction of seeing, or
rather hearing, James Duff, with his convoy, which was not a
merchantman, but a marriageable woman, bear down upon her.
James had been left in quiet possession of Jenny Jackson, in consequence
of Andrew--who was certainly the most enamoured lover--having got
rather fuddled; from which circumstance he had been left at the inn to
sleep off his debauch; and, though the hands of the former were already
full, he did not appear offended, nor even greatly distressed, at the
accident which gave him an opportunity of again meeting Mary. He
immediately lifted the fallen man from the ground, on which he was still
lying in a half-senseless state, and, with the assistance of the two
maidens, who, in this instance, lent their aid, "nothing loth,"
conducted him to the nearest house, where they left him to recover from
his drench.
Mary was now for running home as fast as possible, but the gallantry of
her new acquaintance would not permit him to think of allowing her to go
alone; he therefore proposed that she should go with them to
Heatherinch, which was but a short way out of her road, and, after
seeing Jenny safely lodged, he would accompany her at least a part of
her journey. To this proposal Jenny was far from giving a hearty
sanction, but the other seemed determined for once to take his own way.
She had her own reasons for wishing not to thwart him openly, and, after
some trifling demurs, she acquiesced. James, accordingly, escorted Mary
as far as her master's barn-yard, which was certainly the most
considerable part of her journey; and here, notwithstanding the
lateness, or rather earliness of the hour, and her previous hurry to get
home, they spent they knew not how long on the leeward side of a _strae
stack_, conversing on various subjects, which to them, and to the whole
world, might have been deemed of very little importance; and, though
neither of them spoke one word of love, or made the slightest allusion
to that interesting subject, it was almost morning before they thought
of separating.
The night adventure, thus happily got over, produced no bad
consequences; but it was not long before Mary was again threatened with
the addresses of Ritchie Drycraig. To these, however, she had sagely
determined not to listen, if she could by any possibility do otherwise;
and when, according to the established rules of society, he presented
himself at her bedroom window between the hours of ten and twelve P.M.,
making his presence known by a gentle rap upon the glass and a low
whistle, she was under the necessity of feigning sickness oftener than
once to get quit of him. But this, as it afforded her an excuse for not
seeing him, so it gave him a pretext for returning to inquire after her
health; and to avoid him, in a short time, it would have become
absolutely necessary for her to lie constantly in bed. This would not
do, and a new expedient was tried. Next time he made his appearance, the
new moon gave a faint and uncertain light, which seemed to suit her
purpose very well; and from the half-opened window she whispered in his
ear a terrifying tale of a ghost, which had been lately seen walking
under the shelter of a hedge immediately in front of the house. She
pointed out the very bush from which it had emerged; and just as she
concluded, the obedient ghost made its appearance, wrapped up in as much
white drapery as the wardrobe of any ordinary ghost could be supposed to
contain. But the terrified lover, instead of taking to his heels, as the
damsel had expected, thrust his head and shoulders in at the window,
which she had raised a little for the purpose of speaking to him; and
the next moment he stood bolt upright in the room beside her. This was
mending matters with a vengeance. The very plan which she had adopted to
drive him from the _outside_ of the house, had driven him to the
_inside_ of it; and, what was worse, she was left with him alone. From
the odour of his breath, it was evident that he did not lack
inspiration; and finding himself snugly housed, with the "maid of his
heart" beside him, notwithstanding the terrors of the ghost, he was
beginning to talk of love; and had it not been for the other servant
girl, who came in shortly after, it is probable he might have reached
the "linns" and the "craigs," as he had done on a former occasion,
before he had thought of stopping. She, however, assured him that she
had heard her master stirring above-stairs--which, by the by, is always
a formidable announcement to an enamoured swain--and warned him to make
what haste he could in getting home. But this information, though it
increased his perplexity to an immeasurable extent, and effectually
silenced him upon the former subject, gave him neither strength nor
courage to face an inhabitant of the other world alone, and at the
ominous hour of midnight. Judging that it were better to fight within
walls than without them, whether the enemies were spiritual or temporal,
he continued to keep his position; nor was it till the other servant
girl had persuaded one of the young men who slept in the house, and who
was supposed to set some value on her own good opinion, to leave his
bed, and promise to conduct Ritchie beyond the haunted neighbourhood,
that he could be prevailed upon to depart.
The hiring time at last came round; the whole of the servants on
Cairnybraes were engaged for another year, and Mary's master and
mistress were anxious that she should remain also. They had every reason
to be satisfied with her integrity, industry, and general good conduct;
and when she did not readily accept of their terms, they even went so
far as to offer her a slight advance of wages, but to no purpose.
Application was next made to her father and mother, in the expectation
that they might succeed in persuading her to remain where she was. They
readily consented to use their influence, never dreaming that she would
reject any request which they might proffer; but, for the first time in
their lives, they had the mortification of seeing their wishes
disregarded. For no persuasion, and upon no condition, could she be
prevailed on to engage for another year; and, what was still more
strange, she would assign no reason for leaving her place. Her
unaccountable humour in this respect gave rise to a number of
conjectures as to its cause, of which one or two may be noticed in
passing.
Some people said that the ghost had scared her as well as Ritchie
Drycraig; others supposed that she must have a "lad" about the
bleachfield, who found it inconvenient to come so far to see her; but
the most general opinion was, that she wished to bring either the
foresaid Ritchie, or James Duff, both of whom were regarded as a sort of
_danglers_, or distant admirers, to an explanation. Here be it remarked,
that this is a subject upon which young women in general can only endure
silence with any degree of patience for a limited time. Some, as a
matter of course, will hold out for a longer and some for a shorter
season, just as their natural temper may chance to be ardent or
otherwise. But, assuredly, the patience of the most plodding maiden on
earth, if her heart should happen to be infected with the tender
passion, will come to an end; and then, neither man, woman, young, old,
or middle-aged, can tell what measures she may adopt, or what agency she
may employ to bring forth the important secret. Some novelist or other
has said--in spleen it would almost appear--"that in the higher circles
there is a regular system of managing these matters--that the whole had
been reduced to a science; and that an initiated damsel understands how
to play her part in the important concern of getting a husband nearly as
well as she understands a game at cards!" This, if true, must be an
immense acquisition to young ladies; but, as the "schoolmaster" has not
yet been so far "abroad" as to bring the discovery down to the country
girl and the village maiden, these are wholly left to their own
shifts--and shifts, at times, they must try. But, as to these, the
present writer would be almost wholly ignorant, were it not for certain
of the sex themselves, whom he has heard declare that a quarrel about
something or nothing is one of their most natural expedients, and, as
such, is frequently resorted to with good effect. Next in order,
according to the above-mentioned authorities, is a _flitting_ or
separation, which is to last for a length of time: such a step seems to
throw the parties concerned at once upon their beam-ends; and before
they can trim their ballast again, the secret may chance to "spunk out."
Thus there was, at least, a show of reason in some of the conjectures
just alluded to. But after having noticed these things, that the reader
may judge of their probabilities and improbabilities for himself, to
keep up the dignity and the veracity of history, he must now be told the
truth.
By this time, Mary was completely tired of the tricks and shifts by
which she had endeavoured to evade the persevering _Ritchie_, who,
whenever his _dry-craig_ was moistened with the _water of life_, or any
other strong water, was certain to pester her with his visits and
importunities. She also considered it highly dishonourable in herself to
encourage any feelings in James Duff which might have a tendency to
seduce him from his allegiance to another; and, to be free from these
annoyances and temptations, with which she knew not how to contend, she
honourably and resolutely determined to return home.
At the Martinmas term Mary accordingly took up her abode again with her
parents at Blackenburn. The day on which she returned was wet and
stormy, and she caught a cold, which kept her rather indisposed for
three weeks. The most fearful in such cases, however, could have seen no
reason for apprehending the slightest danger, till Sabbath morning
ushered in the fourth week. But, on this particular morning, though Mary
felt much better, her mother appeared uncommonly thoughtful, or rather
seriously alarmed. From her husband and daughter, however, she
endeavoured to conceal her perturbation as much as possible, and as soon
as her neighbour's door was opened, she went to inquire for Mrs Jackson.
"How are ye this morning?" said she, as she entered.
"No that ill!" was the reply. "How are ye yoursel?"