left a sort of history of her life, from which the following is an
extract:--
"My father died before I was eighteen (so began Diana's narrative), and
he left five of us--that is, my mother, two sisters, a brother, and
myself--five hundred pounds a-piece. My sisters were both younger than
me; but, within six years after our father's death, they both got
married; and my brother, who was only a year older than myself, left the
house also, and took a wife, so that there was nobody but me and my
mother left. Everybody thought there was something very singular in
this; for it was not natural that the youngest should be taken and the
auldest left; and, besides, it was acknowledged that I was the best
faured,[C] and the best tempered in the family; and there could be no
dispute but that my siller was as good as theirs.
[C] Best-looking, or most beautiful.
I must confess, however, that, when I was but a lassie o' sixteen, I had
drawn up wi' one James Laidlaw--but I should score out the word _one_,
and just say that I had drawn up wi' _James Laidlaw_. He was a year, or
maybe three, aulder than me, and I kenned him when he was just a laddie,
at Mr. Wh----'s school in Dunse; but I took no notice o' him then in
particular, and, indeed, I never did, until one day that I was an errand
down by Kimmerghame, and I met James just coming out frae the gardens.
It was the summer season, and he had a posie in his hand, and a very
bonny posie it was. 'Here's a fine day, Diana,' says he. 'Yes, it is,'
says I.
So we said nae mair for some time; but he keepit walking by my side, and
at last he said--'What do ye think o' this posie?' 'It is very bonny,
James,' said I. 'I think sae,' quoth he; 'and if ye will accept it,
there should naebody be mair welcome to it.' 'Ou, I thank ye,' said I,
and I blushed in a way--'why should ye gie me it?' 'Never mind,' says
he, 'tak it for auld acquaintance sake--we were at the school together.'
So I took the flowers, and James keepit by my side, and cracked to me a'
the way to my mother's door, and I cracked to him--and I really wondered
that the road between Kimmerghame and Dunse had turned sae short. It
wasna half the length that it used to be, or what I thought it ought to
be.
But I often saw James Laidlaw after this; and somehow or other I aye met
him just as I was coming out o' the kirk, and weel do I recollect that,
one Sabbath in particular, he said to me--'Diana, will ye no come out
and tak a walk after ye get your dinner?' 'I dinna ken, James,' says
I; 'I doubt I daurna, for our folk are very particular, and baith my
faither and my mother are terribly against onything like gaun about
stravaigin on the Sundays.' 'Oh, they need never ken where ye're gaun,'
says he. 'Weel, I'll try,' says I, for by this time I had a sort o'
liking for James. 'Then,' said he, 'I'll be at the Penny Stane at four
o'clock.' 'Very weel,' quoth I.
And, although baith my faither and mother said to me, as I was gaun
out--'Where are ye gaun, lassie?'--'Oh, no very far,' said I; and, at
four o'clock, I met James at the Penny Stane. I shall never forget the
grip that he gied my hand when he took it in his, and said--
'Ye hae been as good as your word, Diana.'
We wandered awa doun by Wedderburn dyke, till we came to the Blackadder,
and then we sauntered down by the river side, till we were opposite
Kelloe--and, oh, it was a pleasant afternoon. Everything round about us,
aboon us, and among our feet, seemed to ken it was Sunday--everything
but James and me. The laverock was singing in the blue lift--the
blackbirds were whistling in the hedges--the mavis chaunted its loud
sang frae the bushes on the braes--the lennerts[D] were singing and
chirming among the whins--and the shelfa[E] absolutely seemed to follow
ye wi' its three notes over again, in order that ye might learn them.
[D] Linnets
[E] Chaffinch
It was the happiest afternoon I ever spent. James grat, and I grat. I
got a scolding frae my faither and my mother when I gaed hame, and they
demanded to ken where I had been; but the words that James had spoken to
me bore me up against their reproaches.
Weel, it was very shortly (I daresay not six months after my faither's
death), that James called at my mother's, and as he said, to bid us
_farewell!_ He took my mother's hand--I mind I saw him raise it to his
lips, while the tears were on his cheeks; and he was also greatly put
about to part wi' my sisters; but to me he said--
'Ye'll set me down a bit, Diana.'
He was to take the coach for Liverpool--or at least, a coach to take him
on the road to that town, the next day; and from there he was to proceed
to the West Indies, to meet an uncle who was to make him his heir.
I went out wi' him, and we wandered away down by our auld walks; but,
oh, he said little, and he sighed often, and his heart was sad. But mine
was as sad as his, and I could say as little as him. I winna, I canna
write a' the words and the vows that passed. He took the chain frae his
watch, and it was o' the best gold, and he also took a pair o' Bibles
frae his pocket, and he put the watch chain and the Bibles into my hand,
and--'Diana,' said he, 'take these, dear--keep them for the sake o' your
poor James, and, as often as ye see them, think on him.' I took them,
and wi' the tears running down my cheeks--'O James,' cried I, 'this is
hard!--hard!'
Twice, ay thrice, we bade each other '_farewell_,' and thrice, after he
had parted frae me, he cam running back again, and, throwing his arms
round my neck, cried--
'Diana! I canna leave ye!--promise me that ye will never marry onybody
else!'
And thrice I promised him that I wouldna.
But he gaed awa, and my only consolation was looking at the Bibles, on
one o' the white leaves o' the first volume o' which I found written, by
his own hand, '_James Laidlaw and Diana Darling vowed, that, if they
were spared, they would become man and wife; and that neither time,
distance, nor circumstances, should dissolve their plighted troth.
Dated, May 25th, 17--_.'
These were cheering words to me; and I lived on them for years, even
after my younger sisters were married, and I had ceased to hear from
him. And, during that time, for his sake, I had declined offers which my
friends said I was waur than foolish to reject. At least half a dozen
good matches I let slip through my hands, and a' for the love o' James
Laidlaw who was far awa, and the vows he had plighted to me by the side
o' the Blackadder. And, although he hadna written to me for some years,
I couldna think that ony man could be so wicked as to write words o'
falsehood and bind them up in the volume o' everlasting truth.
But, about ten years after he had gane awa, James Laidlaw came back to
our neighbourhood; but he wasna the same lad he left--for he was now a
dark-complexioned man, and he had wi' him a mulatto woman, and three
bairns that called him _faither!_ He was no longer my James!
My mother was by this time dead, and I expected naething but that the
knowledge o' his faithlessness would kill me too--for I had clung to
hope till the last straw was broken.
I met him once during his stay in the country, and, strange to tell, it
was within a hundred yards o' the very spot where I first foregathered
wi' him, when he offered me the posie.
'Ha! Die!' said he, 'my old girl, are you still alive? I'm glad to see
you. Is the old woman, your mother, living yet?' I was ready to faint,
my heart throbbed as though it would have burst. A' the trials I had
ever had were naething to this; and he continued--'Why, if I remember
right, there was once something like an old flame between you and me.'
'O James! James!' said I, 'do you remember the words ye wrote in the
Bible, and the vows that ye made me by the side of the Blackadder?'
'Ha! ha!' said he, and he laughed, 'you are there, are you? I do mind
something of it. But, Die, I did not think that a girl like you would
have been such a fool as to remember what a boy said to her.'
I would have spoken to him again; but I remembered he was the husband
of another woman--though she was a mulatto--an' I hurried away as fast
as my fainting heart would permit. I had but one consolation, and that
was, that, though he had married another, naebody could compare her face
wi' mine.
But it was lang before I got the better o' this sair slight--ay, I may
say it was ten years and mair; and I had to try to pingle and find a
living upon the interest o' my five hundred pounds, wi' ony other thing
that I could turn my hand to in a genteel sort o' way.
I was now getting on the wrang side o' eight and thirty; and that is an
age when it isna prudent in a spinister to be throwing the pouty side o'
her lip to any decent lad that hauds out his hand, and says--'Jenny,
will ye tak me?' Often and often, baith by day and by night, did I think
o' the good bargains I had lost, for the sake o' my fause James Laidlaw;
and often, when I saw some o' them that had come praying to me, pass me
on a Sunday, having their wives wi' their hands half round their waist
on the horse behint them--'O James! fause James!' I have said, 'but for
trusting to you, and it would hae been me that would this day been
riding behint Mr. ----.'
But I had still five hundred pounds, and sic fend as I could make, to
help what they brought to me. And, about this time, there was one that
had the character of being a very respectable sort o' a lad, one Walter
Sanderson; he was a farmer, very near about my own age, and altogether a
most prepossessing and intelligent young man. I first met wi' him at my
youngest sister's goodman's kirn,[F] and I must say, a better or a more
gracefu' dancer I never saw upon a floor. He had neither the jumping o'
a mountebank, nor the sliding o' a play-actor, but there was an ease in
his carriage which I never saw equalled. I was particularly struck wi'
him, and especially his dancing; and it so happened that he was no less
struck wi' me. I thought he looked even better than James Laidlaw used
to do--but at times I had doubts about it. However, he had stopped all
the night at my brother-in-law's as weel as mysel; and when I got up to
gang hame the next day, he said he would bear me company. I thanked him,
and said I was obliged to him, never thinking that he would attempt such
a thing. But, just as the pony was brought out for me to ride on (and
the callant was to come up to Dunse for it at night), Mr. Walter
Sanderson mounted his horse, and says he--
'Now, wi' your permission, Miss Darling, I will see you hame.'
[F] Harvest Home.
It would hae been very rude o' me to hae said--'No, I thank you, sir,'
and especially at my time o' life, wi' twa younger sisters married that
had families; so I blushed, as it were, and giein my powny a twitch, he
sprang on to his saddle, and came trotting along by my side. He was very
agreeable company; and, when he said, 'I shall be most happy to pay you
a visit, Miss Darling,' I didna think o' what I had said, until after
that I had answered him, 'I shall be very happy to see ye, sir.' And
when I thought o' it my very cheek bones burned wi' shame.
But, howsoever, Mr. Sanderson was not long in calling again--and often
he did call, and my sisters and their guid-men began to jeer me about
him. Weel, he called and called, for I daresay as good as three quarters
of a year; and he was sae backward and modest a' the time that I thought
him a very remarkable man; indeed, I began to think him every way
superior to James Laidlaw.
But at last he made proposals--I consented--the wedding-day was set, and
we had been cried in the kirk. It was the fair day, just two days before
we were to be married, and he came into the house, and, after he had
been seated a while, and cracked in his usual kind way--
'Oh,' says he, 'what a bargain I hae missed the day! There are four lots
o' cattle in the market, and I might hae cleared four hundred pounds,
cent. per cent., by them.'
'Losh me! Walter, then,' says I, 'why didna ye do it? How did ye let sic
a bargain slip through your fingers?'
'Woman,' said he, 'I dinna ken; but a man that is to be married within
eight and forty hours is excusable. I came to the Fair without any
thought o' either buying or selling--but just to see you, Diana--and I
kenned there wasna meikle siller necessary for that.'
'Losh, Walter, man,' said I, 'but that is a pity--and ye say ye could
mak cent. per cent. by the beasts?'
''Deed could I,' quoth he--'I am sure o' that.'
'Then, Walter,' says I, 'what is mine the day is to be yours the morn, I
may say; and it would be a pity to lose sic a bargain.'
Therefore I put into his hands an order on a branch bank, that had been
established in Dunse, for every farthing that I was worth in the world,
and Walter kissed me, and went out to get the money frae the bank and
buy the cattle.
But he hadna been out an hour, when ane o' my brothers-in-law called,
and I thought he looked unco dowie. So I began to tell him about the
excellent bargain that Walter had made, and what I had done. But the man
started frae his seat as if he were crazed, and, without asking me ony
questions, he only cried--'Gracious! Diana! hae ye been sic an idiot?'
and, rushing out o' the house, ran to the bank.
He left me in a state that I canna describe; I neither kenned what to do
nor what to think. But within half an hour he returned, and he cried out
as he entered--'Diana, ye are ruined! He has taken in you and everybody
else. The villain broke yesterday. He is off! Ye may bid fare weel to
your siller!' 'Wha is off?' cried I, and I was in sic a state I was
hardly able to speak. 'Walter Sanderson!' answered my brother-in-law.
I believe I went into hysterics; for the first thing I mind o' after his
saying so, was a dozen people standing round about me--some slapping at
the palms o' my hands, and others laving water on my breast and temples,
until they had me as wet as if they had douked me in Pollock's Well.
I canna tell how I stood up against this clap o' misery. It was near
getting the better o' me. For a time I really hated the very name and
the sight o' man, and I said, as the song says, that
'Men are a' deceivers.'
But this was not the worst o' it--I had lost my all, and I was now
forced into the acquaintanceship of poverty and dependence. I first went
to live under the roof o' my youngest sister, who had always been my
favourite; but, before six months went round, I found that she began to
treat me just as though I had been a servant, ordering me to do this
and do the other; and sometimes my dinner was sent ben to me into the
kitchen; and the servant lassies, seeing how their mistress treated me,
considered that they should be justified in doing the same--and they did
the same. Many a weary time have I lain down upon my bed and wished
never to rise again, for my spirit was weary o' this world. But I put up
wi' insult after insult, until flesh and blood could endure it no
longer. Then did I go to my other sister, and she hardly opened her
mouth to me as I entered her house. I saw that I might gang where I
liked--I wasna welcome there. Before I had been a week under her roof, I
found that the herd's dog led a lady's life to mine. I was forced to
leave her too.
And, as a sort o' last alternative, just to keep me in existence, I
began a bit shop in a neighbouring town, and took in sewing and washing;
and, after I had tried them awhile, and found that they would hardly
do, I commenced a bit school, at the advice of the minister's wife, and
learned bairns their letters and the catechism, and knitting and sewing.
I also taught them (for they were a' girls) how to work their samplers,
and to write, and to cast accounts. But what vexed and humbled me more
than all I had suffered, was, that one night, just after I had let my
scholars away, an auld hedger and ditcher body, almost sixty years o'
age, came into the house, and 'How's a' wi' ye the nicht?' says he,
though I had never spoken to the man before. But he took off his bonnet,
and, pulling in a chair, drew a seat to the fire. I was thunderstruck!
But I was yet mair astonished and ashamed, when the auld body, sleeking
down his hair and his chin, had the assurance to make love to me!
'There is the door, sir!' cried I. And when he didna seem willing to
understand me, I gripped him by the shouthers, and showed him what I
meant.
Yet quite composedly he turned round to me and said, 'I dinna see what
is the use o' the like o' this--it is true I am aulder than you, but you
are at a time o' life now that ye canna expect ony young man to look at
ye. Therefore, ye had better think twice before ye turn me to the door.
Ye will find it just as easy a life being the wife o' a hedger as
keeping a school--rather mair sae I apprehend, and mair profitable too.'
I had nae patience wi' the man. I thought my sisters had insulted me;
but this offer o' the hedger's wounded me mair than a' that they had
done.
'O James Laidlaw!' cried I, when I was left to mysel, 'what hae ye
brought me to! My sisters dinna look after me. My parting wi' them has
gien them an excuse to forget that I exist. My brother is far frae me,
and he is ruled by a wife; and I hae been robbed by another o' the
little that I had. I am like a withered tree in a wilderness, standing
its lane--I will fa' and naebody will miss me. I am sick, and there are
none to haud my head. My throat is parched and my lips dry, and there
are none to bring me a cup o' water. There is nae _living thing_ that I
can ca' mine. And some day I shall be found a stiffened corpse in my
bed, with no one near me to close my eyes in death or perform the last
office of humanity! For I am alone--I am by myself--I am forgotten in
the world; and my latter years, if I have a long life, will be a burden
to strangers.'"
But Diana Darling did not so die. Her gentleness, her kindness, caused
her to be beloved by many who knew not her history; and, when the last
stern messenger came to call her hence, many watched with tears around
her bed of death, and many more in sorrow followed her to the grave. So
ran the few leaves in the diary of a spinster--and the reader will
forgive our interpolations.
GEORDIE WILLISON,
AND THE HEIRESS OF CASTLE GOWER.
Antiquaries know very well that one of the oldest of the Nova Scotia
knights, belonging to Scotland, was Sir Marmaduke Maitland of Castle
Gower, situated in one of the southern counties of the kingdom; but they
may not know so well that Sir Marmaduke held his property under a strict
entail to heirs male, whom failing, to heirs female, under the condition
of bearing the arms and name of the Castle Gower family; or that he was
married to Catherine Maxwell, a near relative of the family of Herries,
in the Stewartry of Kirkcudbright--a person of no very great beauty,
but sprightly, and of good manners. This woman had been brought up in
France, and was deeply tinged with French feelings. She had French cooks
and French milliners about her in abundance; and a French lackey was
considered by her as indispensable as meat and drink. Then she was
represented as being a proud, imperious woman, with a bad temper; which
was rendered worse by her continued fretting, in consequence of not
having any children to her husband; whereby the property would go away
to a son of her husband's brother. Sir Marmaduke and his lady had a
town-house in Edinburgh, in which they lived for the greater part of the
year, situated so as to look to the North Back of the Canongate, and
with an entry to it from that street, but the principal gate was from
the north side. A garden was attached to the house; and the stables
and coach-houses were situated at the foot of the garden. All these
premises are now removed; but Sir Marmaduke Maitland's house--or, as it
was styled, the Duke's house--at the period of this story, was a very
showy house, and very well known to the inhabitants of Edinburgh.
Now, at the foot of Leith Wynd, there lived, about the same time, a
poor widow woman, called Widow Willison, who had a son and a daughter.
She was the widow of a William Willison, who earned a livelihood by
the humble means of serving the inhabitants of Edinburgh with water,
which he conveyed to their doors by the means of an ass; and was, in
consequence, called Water Willie--a good, simple, honest creature; much
liked by his customers, from whom he never wanted a good diet; and had
no fault, but that of disliking the element in which he dealt. He liked
he said very well to drive water to the great folks, and he wished them
"meikle guid o't; but, for his ain pairt, he preferred whisky, which, he
thocht, was o' a warmer and mair congenial nature, and better suited to
the inside o' a rational animal, like man."
Strange enough, it was to William Willison's dislike to water that
people attributed his death. It would have been more logical--but
scandal is a bad logician--to have debited that event to the water; for,
though it will not conceal that Willie was drunk when he died, it was as
notorious that it was not because he was drunk that he died--but that he
died because his water-cart went over him when he was drunk. However
that may be, and there is no use in wasting much reasoning on the point,
William left, at his death, a widow and two children, with nothing to
support them.
Widow Willison was a good, religious woman, of the old school, believing
in the transcendent influence of mere faith, as carrying along with it
all the minor points of justification by works, election, and others,
in the same way that a river takes with it the drops of rain that
fall from the heavens, and carries all down to the ocean. She was an
excellent example of the influence of a pure religion--kind and generous
in her sentiments; and, though left with two children, and no food to
satisfy their hunger, patient and hopeful--placing implicit trust and
confidence in the Author of all good, and viewing murmuring as a sin
against His providence.
Let us introduce, now, George Willison, her son, an extraordinary
individual, apparently destined to be more notorious than his father,
in so much as his character was composed of that mixture of simplicity,
bordering on silliness, and shrewd sagacity in the ordinary affairs of
life, which is often observed in people of Scotland. Though common, the
character is nearly inexplicable to the analyst; for the individual
seems conscious of the weaker part of his character, but he appears to
love it, and often makes it subservient to the stronger elements of his
mind, by using it at once as a cloak and a foil to them. George, like
the other individuals of his peculiar species, followed no trade.
Sometimes he acted as a cadie, a letter-carrier, a messenger, a porter,
a water-carrier--in any capacity, in short, in which he could, with no
continuous labour, earn a little money. To work at any given thing for
longer time than a day, was a task which he generally condemned, as
being wearisome and monotonous, and more suited to the inferior animals
than to man. His clothes, like his avocations, were many-coloured, and
suited the silly half of his character, without altogether depriving him
of the rights of a citizen, or making him the property and sport of
school-boys. Like his employments, his earnings were chancy and various,
ranging between a shilling to five shillings a-week, including
gratuities, which his conceit prompted him to call "helps," with a view
to avoid the imputation of living upon alms--a name, in the Scotch
language "awmous," which did not sound agreeably in the ears of Geordie
Willison.
The very reverse of George was his sister--a black-eyed beauty, of great
intelligence, who earned a little money, to support the family, by means
of her needle. She was a great comfort to her mother, seldom going out,
and felt much annoyed by the strange character of her brother, whom she
often endeavoured to improve, with a view to his following some trade.
He was twenty years of age, and if he did not "tak' himself up" now, she
said, "he would be a vagrant a' his days." Geordie, on the other hand,
quietly heard his sister, but he never saw--at least, he pretended not
to see, which was the same thing--the force of her argument. The weak
half of his constitution was always presented to any attack of logic;
and the adroitness with which he met his opponent by this soft
buckler--which, like a feather-bed presented to a canon bullet,
swallowed the force and the noise at the same time--was worthy of
Aristotle, or Thomas Scotus, or any other logical warrior. Take an
example:--
"Whar hae ye been the day, Geordie?" said his mother to him one day.