NARRATTVE OF DARSIE LATIMER, CONTINUED
Left to his solitary meditations, Darsie (for we will still term Sir
Arthur Darsie Redgauntlet of that Ilk by the name to which the reader
is habituated) was surprised not only at the alteration of his own state
and condition, but at the equanimity with which he felt himself disposed
to view all these vicissitudes.
His fever--fit of love had departed like a morning’s dream, and left
nothing behind but a painful sense of shame, and a resolution to be more
cautious ere he again indulged in such romantic visions. His station
in society was changed from that of a wandering, unowned youth, in whom
none appeared to take an interest excepting the strangers by whom he had
been educated, to the heir of a noble house, possessed of such influence
and such property, that it seemed as if the progress or arrest of
important political events were likely to depend upon his resolution.
Even this sudden elevation, the more than fulfilment of those wishes
which had haunted him ever since he was able to form a wish on the
subject, was contemplated by Darsie, volatile as his disposition was,
without more than a few thrills of gratified vanity.
It is true, there were circumstances in his present situation to
counterbalance such high advantages. To be a prisoner in the hands of a
man so determined as his uncle, was no agreeable consideration, when
he was calculating how he might best dispute his pleasure and refuse
to join him in the perilous enterprise which he seemed to meditate.
Outlawed and desperate himself, Darsie could not doubt that his uncle
was surrounded by men capable of anything--that he was restrained by
no personal considerations--and therefore what degree of compulsion he
might apply to his brother’s son, or in what manner he might feel at
liberty to punish his contumacy, should he disavow the Jacobite cause,
must depend entirely upon the limits of his own conscience; and who
was to answer for the conscience of a heated enthusiast who considers
opposition to the party he has espoused, as treason to the welfare of
his country? After a short interval, Cristal Nixon was pleased to throw
some light upon the subject which agitated him.
When that grim satellite rode up without ceremony close to Darsie’s
side, the latter felt his very flesh creep with abhorrence, so little
was he able to endure his presence, since the story of Lilias had added
to his instinctive hatred of the man.
His voice, too, sounded like that of a screech-owl, as he said, ‘So, my
young cock of the north, you now know it all, and no doubt are blessing
your uncle for stirring you up to such an honourable action.’
‘I will acquaint my uncle with my sentiments on the subject, before I
make them known to any one else,’ said Darsie, scarcely prevailing on
his tongue to utter even these few words in a civil manner.
‘Umph,’ murmured Cristal betwixt his teeth. ‘Close as wax, I see; and
perhaps not quite so pliable. But take care, my pretty youth,’ he added,
scornfully; ‘Hugh Redgauntlet will prove a rough colt-breaker--he will
neither spare whipcord nor spur-rowel, I promise you.’
‘I have already said, Mr. Nixon, answered Darsie, ‘that I will canvass
those matters of which my sister has informed me, with my uncle himself,
and with no other person.’
‘Nay, but a word of friendly advice would do you no harm, young master,’
replied Nixon. ‘Old Redgauntlet is apter at a blow than a word--likely
to bite before he barks--the true man for giving Scarborough warning,
first knock you down, then bid you stand. So, methinks, a little kind
warning as to consequences were not amiss, lest they come upon you
unawares.’
‘If the warning is really kind, Mr. Nixon,’ said the young man, ‘I
will hear it thankfully; and indeed, if otherwise, I must listen to it
whether I will or no, since I have at present no choice of company or of
conversation.’
‘Nay, I have but little to say,’ said Nixon, affecting to give to his
sullen and dogged manner the appearance of an honest bluntness; ‘I am
as little apt to throw away words as any one. But here is the
question--Will you join heart and hand with your uncle, or no?’
‘What if I should say Aye?’ said Darsie, determined, if possible, to
conceal his resolution from this man.
‘Why, then,’ said Nixon, somewhat surprised at the readiness of his
answer, ‘all will go smooth, of course--you will take share in this
noble undertaking, and, when it succeeds, you will exchange your open
helmet for an earl’s coronet perhaps.’
‘And how if it fails?’ said Darsie.
‘Thereafter as it may be,’ said Nixon; ‘they who play at bowls must meet
with rubbers.’
‘Well, but suppose, then, I have some foolish tenderness for my
windpipe, and that when my uncle proposes the adventure to me I should
say No--how then, Mr. Nixon?’
‘Why, then, I would have you look to yourself, young master. There are
sharp laws in France against refractory pupils--LETTRES DE CACHET
are easily come by when such men as we are concerned with interest
themselves in the matter.’
‘But we are not in France,’ said poor Darsie, through whose blood ran a
cold shivering at the idea of a French prison.
‘A fast-sailing lugger will soon bring you there though, snug stowed
under hatches, like a cask of moonlight.’
‘But the French are at peace with us,’ said Darsie, ‘and would not
dare’--
‘Why, who would ever hear of you?’ interrupted Nixon; ‘do you imagine
that a foreign court would call you up for judgement, and put the
sentence of imprisonment in the COURRIER DE L’EUROPE, as they do at the
Old Bailey? No, no, young gentleman--the gates of the Bastille, and of
Mont Saint Michel, and the Castle of Vincennes, move on d--d easy hinges
when they let folk in--not the least jar is heard. There are cool cells
there for hot heads--as calm, and quiet, and dark, as you could wish in
Bedlam--and the dismissal comes when the carpenter brings the prisoner’s
coffin, and not sooner.’
‘Well, Mr. Nixon,’ said Darsie, affecting a cheerfulness which he was
far from feeling, ‘mine is a hard case--a sort of hanging choice, you
will allow--since I must either offend our own government here and
run the risk of my life for doing so, or be doomed to the dungeons of
another country, whose laws I have never offended since I have never
trod its soil--Tell me what you would do if you were in my place.
‘I’ll tell you that when I am there,’ said Nixon, and, checking his
horse, fell back to the rear of the little party.
‘It is evident,’ thought the young man, ‘that the villain believes me
completely noosed, and perhaps has the ineffable impudence to suppose
that my sister must eventually succeed to the possessions which have
occasioned my loss of freedom, and that his own influence over the
destinies of our unhappy family may secure him possession of the
heiress; but he shall perish by my hand first!--I must now be on the
alert to make my escape, if possible, before I am forced on shipboard.
Blind Willie will not, I think, desert me without an effort on my
behalf, especially if he has learned that I am the son of his late
unhappy patron. What a change is mine! Whilst I possessed neither rank
nor fortune, I lived safely and unknown, under the protection of the
kind and respectable friends whose hearts Heaven had moved towards me.
Now that I am the head of an honourable house, and that enterprises of
the most daring character await my decision, and retainers and vassals
seem ready to rise at my beck, my safety consists chiefly in the
attachment of a blind stroller!’
While he was revolving these things in his mind, and preparing himself
for the interview with his uncle which could not but be a stormy one,
he saw Hugh Redgauntlet come riding slowly back to meet them without any
attendants. Cristal Nixon rode up as he approached, and, as they met,
fixed on him a look of inquiry.
‘The fool, Crackenthorp,’ said Redgauntlet, has let strangers into his
house. Some of his smuggling comrades, I believe; we must ride slowly to
give him time to send them packing.’
‘Did you see any of your friends?’ said Cristal.
‘Three, and have letters from many more. They are unanimous on the
subject you wot of--and the point must be conceded to them, or, far as
the matter has gone, it will go no further.’
‘You will hardly bring the father to stoop to his flock,’ said Cristal,
with a sneer.
‘He must and shall!’ answered Redgauntlet, briefly. ‘Go to the front,
Cristal--I would speak with my nephew. I trust, Sir Arthur Redgauntlet,
you are satisfied with the manner in which I have discharged my duty to
your sister?’
‘There can be no fault found to her manners or sentiments,’ answered
Darsie; ‘I am happy in knowing a relative so amiable.’
‘I am glad of it,’ answered Mr. Redgauntlet. ‘I am no nice judge of
women’s qualifications, and my life has been dedicated to one great
object; so that since she left France she has had but little opportunity
of improvement. I have subjected her, however, as little as possible to
the inconveniences and privations of my wandering and dangerous life.
From time to time she has resided for weeks and months with families of
honour and respectability, and I am glad that she has, in, your opinion,
the manners and behaviour which become her birth.’
Darsie expressed himself perfectly satisfied, and there was a little
pause, which Redgauntlet broke by solemnly addressing his nephew.
‘For you, my nephew, I also hoped to have done much. The weakness and
timidity of your mother sequestered you from my care, or it would have
been my pride and happiness to have trained up the son of my unhappy
brother in those paths of honour in which our ancestors have always
trod.’
‘Now comes the storm,’ thought Darsie to himself, and began to collect
his thoughts, as the cautious master of a vessel furls his sails and
makes his ship snug when he discerns the approaching squall.
‘My mother’s conduct in respect to me might be misjudged,’ he said, ‘but
it was founded on the most anxious affection.’
‘Assuredly,’ said his uncle, ‘and I have no wish to reflect on her
memory, though her mistrust has done so much injury, I will not say to
me, but to the cause of my unhappy country. Her scheme was, I think,
to have made you that wretched pettifogging being, which they still
continue to call in derision by the once respectable name of a Scottish
Advocate; one of those mongrel things that must creep to learn the
ultimate decision of his causes to the bar of a foreign court, instead
of pleading before the independent and august Parliament of his own
native kingdom.’
‘I did prosecute the study of law for a year or two, said Darsie, ‘but I
found I had neither taste nor talents for the science.’
‘And left it with scorn, doubtless,’ said Mr. Redgauntlet. ‘Well, I now
hold up to you, my dearest nephew, a more worthy object of ambition.
Look eastward--do you see a monument standing on yonder plain, near a
hamlet?’
Darsie replied that he did,
‘The hamlet is called Burgh-upon-Sands, and yonder monument is erected
to the memory of the tyrant Edward I. The just hand of Providence
overtook him on that spot, as he was leading his bands to complete the
subjugation of Scotland whose civil dissensions began under his accursed
policy. The glorious career of Bruce might have been stopped in its
outset; the field of Bannockburn might have remained a bloodless turf,
if God had not removed, in the very crisis, the crafty and bold tyrant
who had so long been Scotland’s scourge. Edward’s grave is the cradle of
our national freedom. It is within sight of that great landmark of our
liberty that I have to propose to you an undertaking, second in honour
and importance to none since the immortal Bruce stabbed the Red Comyn,
and grasped with his yet bloody hand the independent crown of Scotland.’
He paused for an answer; but Darsie, overawed by the energy of his
manner, and unwilling to commit himself by a hasty explanation, remained
silent.
‘I will not suppose,’ said Hugh Redgauntlet, after a pause, that you
are either so dull as not to comprehend the import of my words--or so
dastardly as to be dismayed by my proposal--or so utterly degenerate
from the blood and sentiments of your ancestors, as not to feel my
summons as the horse hears the war-trumpet.’
‘I will not pretend to misunderstand you, sir,’ said Darsie; ‘but an
enterprise directed against a dynasty now established for three reigns
requires strong arguments, both in point of justice and of expediency,
to recommend it to men of conscience and prudence.’
‘I will not,’ said Redgauntlet, while his eyes sparkled with anger,--‘I
will not hear you speak a word against the justice of that enterprise,
for which your oppressed country calls with the voice of a parent,
entreating her children for aid--or against that noble revenge which
your father’s blood demands from his dishonoured grave. His skull is
yet standing over the Rikargate, [The northern gate of Carlisle was long
garnished with the heads of the Scottish rebels executed in 1746.] and
even its bleak and mouldered jaws command you to be a man. I ask you,
in the name of God and of your country, will you draw your sword and
go with me to Carlisle, were it but to lay your father’s head, now the
perch of the obscene owl and carrion crow and the scoff of every ribald
clown, in consecrated earth as befits his long ancestry?’
Darsie, unprepared to answer an appeal urged with so much passion, and
not doubting a direct refusal would cost him his liberty or life, was
again silent.
‘I see,’ said his uncle, in a more composed tone, ‘that it is not
deficiency of spirit, but the grovelling habits of a confined education,
among the poor-spirited class you were condemned to herd with, that
keeps you silent. You scarce yet believe yourself a Redgauntlet; your
pulse has not yet learned the genuine throb that answers to the summons
of honour and of patriotism.’
‘I trust,’ replied Darsie, at last, ‘that I shall never be found
indifferent to the call of either; but to answer them with effect--even
were I convinced that they now sounded in my ear--I must see some
reasonable hope of success in the desperate enterprise in which you
would involve me. I look around me, and I see a settled government--an
established authority--a born Briton on the throne--the very Highland
mountaineers, upon whom alone the trust of the exiled family reposed,
assembled into regiments which act under the orders of the existing
dynasty. [The Highland regiments were first employed by the celebrated
Earl of Chatham, who assumed to himself no small degree of praise for
having called forth to the support of the country and the government,
the valour which had been too often directed against both.] France has
been utterly dismayed by the tremendous lessons of the last war, and
will hardly provoke another. All without and within the kingdom is
adverse to encountering a hopeless struggle, and you alone, sir, seem
willing to undertake a desperate enterprise.’
‘And would undertake it were it ten times more desperate; and have
agitated it when ten times the obstacles were interposed. Have I forgot
my brother’s blood? Can I--dare I even now repeat the Pater Noster,
since my enemies and the murderers remain unforgiven? Is there an art I
have not practised--a privation to which I have not submitted, to bring
on the crisis, which I now behold arrived? Have I not been a vowed and a
devoted man, forgoing every comfort of social life, renouncing even the
exercise of devotion unless when I might name in prayer my prince and
country, submitting to everything to make converts to this noble cause?
Have I done all this, and shall I now stop short?’ Darsie was about to
interrupt him, but he pressed his hand affectionately upon his shoulder,
and enjoining, or rather imploring, silence, ‘Peace,’ he said, ‘heir of
my ancestors’ fame--heir of all my hopes and wishes. Peace, son of my
slaughtered brother! I have sought for thee, and mourned for thee, as
a mother for an only child. Do not let me again lose you in the moment
when you are restored to my hopes. Believe me, I distrust so much my own
impatient temper, that I entreat you, as the dearest boon, do naught to
awaken it at this crisis.’
Darsie was not sorry to reply that his respect for the person of his
relation would induce him to listen to all which he had to apprise him
of, before he formed any definite resolution upon the weighty subjects
of deliberation which he proposed to him.
‘Deliberation!’ repeated Redgauntlet, impatiently; ‘and yet it is not
ill said. I wish there had been more warmth in thy reply, Arthur; but I
must recollect, were an eagle bred in a falcon’s mew and hooded like a
reclaimed hawk, he could not at first gaze steadily on the sun. Listen
to me, my dearest Arthur. The state of this nation no more implies
prosperity, than the florid colour of a feverish patient is a symptom
of health. All is false and hollow. The apparent success of Chatham’s
administration has plunged the country deeper in debt than all the
barren acres of Canada are worth, were they as fertile as Yorkshire--the
dazzling lustre of the victories of Minden and Quebec have been dimmed
by the disgrace of the hasty peace--by the war, England, at immense
expense, gained nothing but honour, and that she has gratuitously
resigned. Many eyes, formerly cold and indifferent, are now looking
towards the line of our ancient and rightful monarchs, as the only
refuge in the approaching storm--the rich are alarmed--the nobles are
disgusted--the populace are inflamed--and a band of patriots, whose
measures are more safe than their numbers are few, have resolved to set
up King Charles’s standard.’
‘But the military,’ said Darsie--‘how can you, with a body of unarmed
and disorderly insurgents, propose to encounter a regular army. The
Highlanders are now totally disarmed.’
‘In a great measure, perhaps,’ answered Redgauntlet; ‘but the policy
which raised the Highland regiments has provided for that. We have
already friends in these corps; nor can we doubt for a moment what their
conduct will be when the white cockade is once more mounted. The rest
of the standing army has been greatly reduced since the peace; and we
reckon confidently on our standard being joined by thousands of the
disbanded troops.’
‘Alas!’ said Darsie, ‘and is it upon such vague hopes as these, the
inconstant humour of a crowd or of a disbanded soldiery, that men of
honour are invited to risk their families, their property, their life?’
‘Men of honour, boy,’ said Redgauntlet, his eyes glancing with
impatience, ‘set life, property, family, and all at stake, when that
honour commands it! We are not now weaker than when seven men, landing
in the wilds of Moidart, shook the throne of the usurper till it
tottered--won two pitched fields, besides overrunning one kingdom and
the half of another, and, but for treachery, would have achieved what
their venturous successors are now to attempt in their turn.’
‘And will such an attempt be made in serious earnest?’ said Darsie.
‘Excuse me, my uncle, if I can scarce believe a fact so extraordinary.
Will there really be found men of rank and consequence sufficient to
renew the adventure of 1745?’
‘I will not give you my confidence by halves, Sir Arthur,’ replied his
uncle--‘Look at that scroll--what say you to these names?--Are they not
the flower of the western shires--of Wales of Scotland?’
‘The paper contains indeed the names of many that are great and noble,’
replied Darsie, after perusing it; ‘but’--
‘But what?’ asked his uncle, impatiently; ‘do you doubt the ability of
those nobles and gentlemen to furnish the aid in men and money at which
they are rated?’
‘Not their ability certainly,’ said Darsie, ‘for of that I am no
competent judge; but I see in this scroll the name of Sir Arthur Darsie
Redgauntlet of that Ilk, rated at a hundred men and upwards--I certainly
am ignorant how he is to redeem that pledge.’
‘I will be responsible for the men,’ replied Hugh Redgauntlet.
‘But, my dear uncle,’ added Darsie, ‘I hope for your sake that the other
individuals whose names are here written, have had more acquaintance
with your plan than I have been indulged with.’
‘For thee and thine I can be myself responsible,’ said Redgauntlet; ‘for
if thou hast not the courage to head the force of thy house, the leading
shall pass to other hands, and thy inheritance shall depart from thee
like vigour and verdure from a rotten branch. For these honourable
persons, a slight condition there is which they annex to their
friendship--something so trifling that it is scarce worthy of mention.
This boon granted to them by him who is most interested, there is no
question they will take the field in the manner there stated.’
Again Darsie perused the paper, and felt himself still less inclined to
believe that so many men of family and fortune were likely to embark in
an enterprise so fatal. It seemed as if some rash plotter had put
down at a venture the names of all whom common report tainted with
Jacobitism; or if it was really the act of the individuals named, he
suspected that they must be aware of some mode of excusing themselves
from compliance with its purport. It was impossible, he thought, that
Englishmen, of large fortune, who had failed to join Charles when he
broke into England at the head of a victorious army, should have the
least thoughts of encouraging a descent when circumstances were so much
less propitious. He therefore concluded the enterprise would fall to
pieces of itself, and that his best way was, in the meantime, to remain
silent, unless the actual approach of a crisis (which might, however,
never arrive) should compel him to give a downright refusal to his
uncle’s proposition; and if, in the interim, some door for escape should
be opened, he resolved within himself not to omit availing himself of
it.
Hugh Redgauntlet watched his nephew’s looks for some time, and then, as
if arriving from some other process of reasoning at the same conclusion,
he said, ‘I have told you, Sir Arthur, that I do not urge your immediate
accession to my proposal; indeed the consequences of a refusal would be
so dreadful to yourself, so destructive to all the hopes which I have
nursed, that I would not risk, by a moment’s impatience, the object of
my whole life. Yes, Arthur, I have been a self-denying hermit at one
time--at another, the apparent associate of outlaws and desperadoes--at
another, the subordinate agent of men whom I felt in every way my
inferiors--not for any selfish purpose of my own, no, not even to win
for myself the renown of being the principal instrument in restoring
my king and freeing my country. My first wish on earth is for
that restoration and that freedom--my next, that my nephew, the
representative of my house and of the brother of my love, may have the
advantage and the credit of all my efforts in the good cause. But,’ he
added, darting on Darsie one of his withering frowns, ‘if Scotland and
my father’s house cannot stand and flourish together, then perish the
very name of Redgauntlet! perish the son of my brother, with every
recollection of the glories of my family, of the affections of my youth,
rather than my country’s cause should be injured in the tithing of
a barley-corn! The spirit of Sir Alberick is alive within me at this
moment,’ he continued, drawing up his stately form and sitting erect in
his saddle, while he pressed his finger against his forehead; ‘and if
you yourself crossed my path in opposition, I swear, by the mark that
darkens my brow, that a new deed should be done--a new doom should be
deserved!’
He was silent, and his threats were uttered in a tone of voice so deeply
resolute, that Darsie’s heart sank within him, when he reflected on the
storm of passion which he must encounter, if he declined to join his
uncle in a project to which prudence and principle made him equally
adverse. He had scarce any hope left but in temporizing until he could
make his escape, and resolved to avail himself for that purpose of the
delay which his uncle seemed not unwilling to grant. The stern,
gloomy look of his companion became relaxed by degrees, and presently
afterwards he made a sign to Miss Redgauntlet to join the party, and
began a forced conversation on ordinary topics; in the course of which
Darsie observed that his sister seemed to speak under the most cautious
restraint, weighing every word before she uttered it, and always
permitting her uncle to give the tone to the conversation, though of the
most trifling kind. This seemed to him (such an opinion had he already
entertained of his sister’s good sense and firmness) the strongest proof
he had yet received of his uncle’s peremptory character, since he saw it
observed with so much deference by a young person whose sex might have
given her privileges, and who seemed by no means deficient either in
spirit or firmness.
The little cavalcade was now approaching the house of Father
Crackenthorp, situated, as the reader knows, by the side of the
Solway, and not far distant front a rude pier, near which lay several
fishing-boats, which frequently acted in a different capacity. The house
of the worthy publican was also adapted to the various occupations which
he carried on, being a large scrambling assemblage of cottages attached
to a house of two stories, roofed with flags of sandstone--the original
mansion, to which the extensions of Mr. Crackenthorp’s trade had
occasioned his making many additions. Instead of the single long
watering-trough which usually distinguishes the front of the English
public-house of the second class, there were three conveniences of that
kind, for the use, as the landlord used to say, of the troop-horses when
the soldiers came to search his house; while a knowing leer and a nod
let you understand what species of troops he was thinking of. A huge
ash-tree before the door, which had reared itself to a great size
and height, in spite of the blasts from the neighbouring Solway,
overshadowed, as usual, the ale-bench, as our ancestors called it,
where, though it was still early in the day, several fellows, who seemed
to be gentlemen’s servants, were drinking beer and smoking. One or two
of them wore liveries which seemed known to Mr. Redgauntlet, for he
muttered between his teeth, ‘Fools, fools! were they on a march to hell,
they must have their rascals in livery with them, that the whole world
might know who were going to be damned.’
As he thus muttered, he drew bridle before the door of the place,
from which several other lounging guests began to issue, to look with
indolent curiosity as usual, upon an ARRIVAL.
Redgauntlet sprang from his horse, and assisted his niece to dismount;
but, forgetting, perhaps, his nephew’s disguise, he did not pay him the
attention which his female dress demanded.
The situation of Darsie was indeed something awkward; for Cristal Nixon,
out of caution perhaps to prevent escape, had muffled the extreme folds
of the riding-skirt with which he was accoutred, around his ankles and
under his feet, and there secured it with large corking-pins. We presume
that gentlemen-cavaliers may sometimes cast their eyes to that part
of the person of the fair equestrians whom they chance occasionally to
escort; and if they will conceive their own feet, like Darsie’s, muffled
in such a labyrinth of folds and amplitude of robe, as modesty doubtless
induces the fair creatures to assume upon such occasions, they will
allow that, on a first attempt, they might find some awkwardness in
dismounting. Darsie, at least, was in such a predicament, for, not
receiving adroit assistance from the attendant of Mr. Redgauntlet, he
stumbled as he dismounted from the horse, and might have had a bad fall,
had it not been broken by the gallant interposition of a gentleman, who
probably was, on his part, a little surprised at the solid weight of the
distressed fair one whom he had the honour to receive in his embrace.
But what was his surprise to that of Darsie, when the hurry of the
moment and of the accident, permitted him to see that it was his friend
Alan Fairford in whose arms he found himself! A thousand apprehensions
rushed on him, mingled with the full career of hope and joy, inspired by
the unexpected appearance of his beloved friend at the very crisis, it
seemed, of his fate.
He was about to whisper in his ear, cautioning him at the same time to
be silent; yet he hesitated for a second or two to effect his purpose,
since, should Redgauntlet take the alarm from any sudden exclamation on
the part of Alan, there was no saying what consequences might ensue.
Ere he could decide what was to be done, Redgauntlet, who had entered
the house, returned hastily, followed by Cristal Nixon. ‘I’ll release
you of the charge of this young lady, sir;’ he said, haughtily, to Alan
Fairford, whom he probably did not recognize.
‘I had no desire to intrude, sir,’ replied Alan; ‘the lady’s situation
seemed to require assistance--and--but have I not the honour to speak to
Mr. Herries of Birrenswork?’
‘You are mistaken, sir,’ said Redgauntlet, turning short off, and
making a sign with his hand to Cristal, who hurried Darsie, however
unwillingly, into the house, whispering in his ear, ‘Come, miss, let us
have no making of acquaintance from the windows. Ladies of fashion must
be private. Show us a room, Father Crackenthorp.’
So saying, he conducted Darsie into the house, interposing at the same
time his person betwixt the supposed young lady and the stranger of whom
he was suspicious, so as to make communication by signs impossible. As
they entered, they heard the sound of a fiddle in the stone-floored
and well-sanded kitchen, through which they were about to follow their
corpulent host, and where several people seemed engaged in dancing to
its strains.
‘D--n thee,’ said Nixon to Crackenthorp, ‘would you have the lady go
through all the mob of the parish? Hast thou no more private way to our
sitting-room?’
‘None that is fit for my travelling,’ answered the landlord, laying his
hand on his portly stomach. ‘I am not Tom Turnpenny, to creep like a
lizard through keyholes.’
So saying, he kept moving on through the revellers in the kitchen; and
Nixon, holding Darsie by his arm, as if to offer the lady support but
in all probability to frustrate any effort at escape, moved through the
crowd, which presented a very motley appearance, consisting of domestic
servants, country fellows, seamen, and other idlers, whom Wandering
Willie was regaling with his music.
To pass another friend without intimation of his presence would have
been actual pusillanimity; and just when they were passing the blind
man’s elevated seat, Darsie asked him with some emphasis, whether he
could not play a Scottish air? The man’s face had been the instant
before devoid of all sort of expression, going through his performance
like a clown through a beautiful country, too much accustomed to
consider it as a task, to take any interest in the performance, and, in
fact, scarce seeming to hear the noise that he was creating. In a
word, he might at the time have made a companion to my friend Wilkie’s
inimitable blind crowder. But with Wandering Willie this was only an
occasional and a rare fit of dullness, such as will at times creep over
all the professors of the fine arts, arising either from fatigue, or
contempt of the present audience, or that caprice which so often tempts
painters and musicians and great actors, in the phrase of the latter, to
walk through their part, instead of exerting themselves with the energy
which acquired their fame. But when the performer heard the voice of
Darsie, his countenance became at once illuminated, and showed the
complete mistake of those who suppose that the principal point of
expression depends upon the eyes. With his face turned to the point from
which the sound came, his upper lip a little curved, and quivering with
agitation, and with a colour which surprise and pleasure had brought at
once into his faded cheek, he exchanged the humdrum hornpipe which he
had been sawing out with reluctant and lazy bow, for the fine Scottish
air,
You’re welcome, Charlie Stuart,
which flew from his strings as if by inspiration and after a breathless
pause of admiration among the audience, was received with a clamour of
applause, which seemed to show that the name and tendency, as well as
the execution of the tune, was in the highest degree acceptable to all
the party assembled.
In the meantime, Cristal Nixon, still keeping hold of Darsie, and
following the landlord, forced his way with some difficulty through the
crowded kitchen, and entered a small apartment on the other side of it,
where they found Lilias Redgauntlet already seated. Here Nixon gave
way to his suppressed resentment, and turning sternly on Crackenthorp,
threatened him with his master’s severest displeasure, because things
were in such bad order to receive his family, when he had given such
special advice that he desired to be private. But Father Crackenthorp
was not a man to be brow-beaten.
‘Why, brother Nixon, thou art angry this morning,’ he replied; ‘hast
risen from thy wrong side, I think. You know, as well as I, that most of
this mob is of the squire’s own making--gentlemen that come with their
servants, and so forth, to meet him in the way of business, as old Tom
Turnpenny says--the very last that came was sent down with Dick Gardener
from Fairladies.’
‘But the blind scraping scoundrel yonder,’ said Nixon, ‘how dared you
take such a rascal as that across your threshold at such a time as this?
If the squire should dream you have a thought of peaching--I am only
speaking for your good, Father Crackenthorp.’
‘Why, look ye, brother Nixon,’ said Crackenthorp, turning his quid with
great composure, ‘the squire is a very worthy gentleman, and I’ll never
deny it; but I am neither his servant nor his tenant, and so he need
send me none of his orders till he hears I have put on his livery. As
for turning away folk from my door, I might as well plug up the ale-tap,
and pull down the sign--and as for peaching, and such like, the squire
will find the folk here are as honest to the full as those he brings
with him.’
‘How, you impudent lump of tallow,’ said Nixon, ‘what do you mean by
that?’
‘Nothing,’ said Crackenthorp, ‘but that I can tour out as well as
another--you understand me--keep good lights in my upper story--know a
thing or two more than most folk in this country. If folk will come to
my house on dangerous errands, egad they shall not find Joe Crackenthorp
a cat’s-paw. I’ll keep myself clear, you may depend on it, and let every
man answer for his own actions--that’s my way. Anything wanted, Master
Nixon?’
‘No--yes--begone!’ said Nixon, who seemed embarrassed with the
landlord’s contumacy, yet desirous to conceal the effect it produced on
him.
The door was no sooner closed on Crackenthorp, than Miss Redgauntlet,
addressing Nixon, commanded him to leave the room and go to his proper
place.
‘How, madam?’ said the fellow sullenly, yet with an air of respect,
‘Would you have your uncle pistol me for disobeying his orders?’
‘He may perhaps pistol you for some other reason, if you do not obey
mine,’ said Lilias, composedly.
‘You abuse your advantage over me, madam--I really dare not go--I am on
guard over this other miss here; and if I should desert my post, my life
were not worth five minutes’ purchase.’
‘Then know your post, sir,’ said Lilias, ‘and watch on the outside of
the door. You have no commission to listen to our private conversation,
I suppose? Begone, sir, without further speech or remonstrance, or I
will tell my uncle that which you would have reason to repent be should
know.’
The fellow looked at her with a singular expression of spite, mixed
with deference. ‘You abuse your advantages, madam,’ he said, ‘and act as
foolishly in doing so as I did in affording you such a hank over me. But
you are a tyrant; and tyrants have commonly short reigns.’
So saying, he left the apartment.
‘The wretch’s unparalleled insolence,’ said Lilias to her brother, ‘has
given me one great advantage over him. For knowing that my uncle would
shoot him with as little remorse as a woodcock, if he but guessed at his
brazen-faced assurance towards me, he dares not since that time assume,
so far as I am concerned, the air of insolent domination which the
possession of my uncle’s secrets, and the knowledge of his most secret
plans, have led him to exert over others of his family.’
‘In the meantime,’ said Darsie, ‘I am happy to see that the landlord
of the house does not seem so devoted to him as I apprehended; and this
aids the hope of escape which I am nourishing for you and for myself. O
Lilias! the truest of friends, Alan Fairford, is in pursuit of me, and
is here at this moment. Another humble, but, I think, faithful friend,
is also within these dangerous walls.’
Lilias laid her finger on her lips, and pointed to the door. Darsie took
the hint, lowered his voice, and informed her in whispers of the arrival
of Fairford, and that he believed he had opened a communication with
Wandering Willie. She listened with the utmost interest, and had just
begun to reply, when a loud noise was heard in the kitchen, caused
by several contending voices, amongst which Darsie thought he could
distinguish that of Alan Fairford.
Forgetting how little his own condition permitted him to become the
assistant of another, Darsie flew to the door of the room, and finding
it locked and bolted on the outside, rushed against it with all
his force, and made the most desperate efforts to burst it open,
notwithstanding the entreaties of his sister that he would compose
himself and recollect the condition in which he was placed. But the
door, framed to withstand attacks from excisemen, constables, and other
personages, considered as worthy to use what are called the king’s keys,
[In common parlance, a crowbar and hatchet.] ‘and therewith to make
lockfast places open and patent,’ set his efforts at defiance. Meantime
the noise continued without, and we are to give an account of its origin
in our next chapter.