On looking over some Session papers which had belonged to Lord Kames,
with the object, I confess, of getting hold of some facts--those
entities called by Quintilian the bones of truth, the more by token, I
fancy, that they so often stick in the throat--which might contribute to
my legends, I came to some sheets whereon his lordship had written some
hasty remarks, to the effect that the case Napier _versus_ Napier was
the most curious puzzle that ever he had witnessed since he had taken
his seat on the bench. The papers were fragmentary, consisting of parts
of a Reclaiming Petition and some portion of a Proof that had been led
in support of a brieve of service; but I got enough to enable me to give
the story, which I shall do in such a connected manner as to take the
reader along with me, I hope pleasantly, and without any inclination to
choke upon the foresaid bones.
Without being very particular about the year, which really I do not know
with further precision than that it was within the first five years of
Lord Kames's senator-ship, I request the reader to fancy himself in a
small domicile in Toddrick's Wynd, in the old city of Edinburgh; and I
request this the more readily that, as we all know, Nature does not
exclude very humble places from the regions of romance, neither does she
deny to very humble personages the characters of heroes and heroines.
Not that I have much to say in the first instance either of the place or
the persons; the former being no more than a solitary room and a
bed-closet, where yet the throb of life was as strong and quick as in
the mansions of the great, and the latter composed of two persons--one,
a decent, hard-working woman called Mrs. Hislop, whose duty in this
world was to keep her employers clean in their clothes, wherein she
stood next to the minister, insomuch as cleanliness is next to
godliness--in other words, she was a washerwoman; the other being a
young girl, verging upon sixteen, called Henrietta, whose qualities,
both of mind and body, might be comprised in the homely eulogy, "as
blithe as bonnie." So it may be, that if you are alarmed at the humility
of the occupation of the one--even with your remembrance that Sir Isaac
Newton experimented upon soap-bubbles--as being so intractable in the
plastic-work of romance, you may be appeased by the qualities of the
other; for has it not been our delight to sing for a thousand years,
yea, in a thousand songs, too, the praises of young damsels, whether
under the names of Jenny or Peggy, or those of Clarinda or Florabella,
or whether engaged in herding flocks by Logan Waters, or dispensing
knights' favours under the peacock? But we cannot afford to dispose of
our young heroine in this curt way, for her looks formed parts of the
lines of a strange history; and so we must be permitted the privilege of
narrating that, while Mrs. Hislop's _protegée_ did not come within that
charmed circle which contains, according to the poets, so many angels
without wings, she was probably as fair every whit as Dowsabell. Yet,
after all, we are not here concerned with beauty, which, as a specialty
in one to one, and as a universality in all to all, is beyond the power
of written description. We have here to do simply with some traits
which, being hereditary, not derived from Mrs. Hislop, have a bearing
upon our strange legend: the very slightest cast in the eyes, which in
its piquancy belied a fine genial nature in the said Henney; and a
classic nose, which, partaking of the old Roman type, and indicating
pride, was equally untrue to a generosity of feeling which made friends
of all who saw her--_except one_. A strange exception this _one_; for
who, even in this bad world, could be an enemy to a creature who
conciliated sympathy as a love, and defied antipathy as an
impossibility? Who could _he_ be? or rather, who could _she_ be? for man
seems to be excluded by the very instincts of his nature. The question
may be answered by the evolution of facts; than which what other have we
even amidst the dark gropings into the mystery of our wonderful being?
Mrs. Hislop's head was over the skeil, wherein lay one of the linen
sheets of Mr. Dallas, the writer to the signet, which, with her broad
hands, she was busy twisting into the form of a serpent; and no doubt
there were indications of her efforts in the drops of perspiration which
stood upon her good-humoured, gaucy face, so suggestive of dewdrops
('bating the poetry) on the leaves of a big blush peony. In this work
she was interrupted by the entrance of Henney, who came rushing in as if
under the influence of some emotion which had taken her young heart by
surprise.
"What think ye, minny?" she cried, as she held up her hands.
"The deil has risen again from the grave where he was buried in
Kirkcaldy," was the reply, with a laugh.
"No, that's no it," continued the girl.
"Then what is it?" was the question.
"He's dead," replied Henney.
"Who is dead?" again asked Mrs. Hislop.
"The strange man," replied the girl.
And a reply, too, which brought the busy worker to a pause in her work,
for she understood who the _he_ was, and the information went direct
through the ear to the heart; but Henney, supposing that she was not
understood, added--
"The man who used to look at me with yon terrible eyes."
"Yes, yes, dear, I understand you," said the woman, as she let the coil
fall, and sat down upon a chair, under the influence of strong emotion.
"But who told you?"
"Jean Graham," replied the girl.
An answer which seemed, for certain reasons known to herself, to satisfy
the woman, for the never another word she said, any more than if her
tongue had been paralyzed by the increased action of her heart; but as
we usually find that when that organ in woman is quiet more useful
powers come into action, so the sensible dame began to exercise her
judgment. A few minutes sufficed for forming a resolution; nor was it
sooner formed than that it was begun to be put into action, yet not
before the excited girl was away, no doubt to tell some of her
companions of her relief from the bugbear of the man with the terrible
eyes. The formation of a purpose might have been observed in her
puckered lips and the speculation in her grey eyes. The spirit of
romance had visited the small house in Toddrick's Wynd, where for
fifteen years the domestic _lares_ had sat quietly surveying the economy
of poverty. She rose composedly from the chair into which the effect of
Henney's exclamation had thrown her, went to the blue chest which
contained her holiday suit, took out, one after another, the chintz
gown, the mankie petticoat, the curch, the red plaid; and, after washing
from her face the perspiration drops, she began to put on her humble
finery--all the operation having been gone through with that quiet
action which belongs to strong minds where resolution has settled the
quivering chords of doubt.
Following the dressed dame up the High Street, we next find her in the
writing-booth of Mr. James Dallas, writer to his Majesty's Signet. The
gentleman was, after the manner of his tribe, minutely scanning some
papers--that is, he was looking into them so sharply that you would have
inferred that he was engaged in hunting for "flaws;" a species of game
that is both a prey and a reward--_et praeda et premium_, as an old
proverb says. Nor shall we say he was altogether pleased when he found
his inquiry, whatever it might be, interrupted by the entrance of Mrs.
Margaret Hislop of Toddrick's Wynd; notwithstanding that to this
personage he and Mrs. Dallas, and all the Dallases, were indebted for
the whiteness of their linen. No doubt she would be wanting payment of
her account; yet why apply to him, and not to Mrs. Dallas? And, besides,
it needed only one glance of the writer's eye to show that his visitor
had something more of the look of a client than a cleaner of linen; a
conclusion which was destined to be confirmed, when the woman, taking up
one of the high-backed chairs in the room, placed it right opposite to
the man of law, and, hitching her round body into something like stiff
dignity, seated herself. Nor was this change from her usual deportment
the only one she underwent; for, as soon appeared, her style of speech
was to pass from broad Scotch, not altogether into the "Inglis" of the
upper ranks, but into a mixture of the two tongues; a feat which she
performed very well, and for which she had been qualified by having
lived in the service of the great.
"And so Mr. Napier of Eastleys is dead?" she began.
"Yes," answered the writer, perhaps with a portion of cheerfulness,
seeing he was that gentleman's agent, or "doer," as it was then called;
a word far more expressive, as many clients can testify, at least after
they are "done;" and seeing also that a dead client is not finally
"done" until his affairs are wound up and consigned to the green box.
"And wha is his heir, think ye?" continued his questioner.
"Why, Charles Napier, his nephew," answered the writer, somewhat
carelessly.
"I'm no just a'thegither sure of that, Mr. Dallas," said she, with
another effort at dignity, which was unfortunately qualified by a
knowing wink.
"The deil's in the woman," was the sharp retort, as the writer opened
his eyes wider than he had done since he laid down his parchments.
"The deil's in me or no in me," said she; "but this I'm sure of, that
Henrietta Hislop--that's our Henney, ye ken--the brawest and bonniest
lass in Toddrick's Wynd (and that's no saying little), is the lawful
heiress of Mr. John Napier of Eastleys, and was called Henrietta after
her mother."
"The honest woman's red wud," said the writer, laughing. "Why, Mrs.
Hislop, I always took you for a shrewd, sensible woman. Do you really
think that, because you bore a child to Mr. John Napier, therefore
Henney Hislop is the heiress of her reputed father?"
"_Me_ bear a bairn to Mr. Napier!" cried the offended client. "Wha ever
said I was the mother of Henney Hislop?"
"Everybody," replied he. "We never doubted it, though I admit she has
none of your features."
"Everybody is a leear, then," rejoined the woman tartly. "There's no a
drap of blood in the lassie's body can claim kindred with me or mine;
though, if it were so, it would be no dishonour, for the Hislops were
lairds of Highslaps in Ayrshire at the time of Malcolm Mucklehead."
"And whose daughter, by the mother's side, is she, then?" asked he, as
his curiosity began to wax stronger.
"Ay, you have now your hand on the cocked egg," replied she, with a look
of mystery. "The other was a wind ane, and you've just to sit a little
and you'll see the chick."
The writer settled himself into attention, and the good dame thought it
proper, like some preachers who pause two or three minutes (the best
part of their discourse) after they have given out the text, to raise a
wonder how long they intend to hold their tongue, and thereby produce
attention, to retain her speech until she had attained the due
solemnity.
"It is now," she began, in a low mysterious voice, "just sixteen years
come June,--and if ye want the day, it will be the 15th,--and if ye want
the hour, we may say eleven o'clock at night, when I was making ready
for my bed,--I heard a knock at my door, and the words of a woman, 'Oh,
Mrs. Hislop, Mrs. Hislop!' So I ran and opened the door; and wha think
ye I saw but Jean Graham, Mr. Napier's cook, with een like twa candles,
and her mouth as wide as if she had been to swallow the biggest sup of
porridge that ever crossed ploughman's craig?"
"'What's ado, woman?' said I, for I thought something fearful had
happened.
"'Oh,' cried she, 'my lady's lighter, and ye're to come to Meggat's
Land, even noo, this minute, and bide nae man's hindrance.'
"'And so I will,' said I, as I threw my red plaid ower my head; then I
blew out my cruse, and out we came, jolting each other in the dark
passage through sheer hurry and confusion--down the Canongate, t'll we
came to Meggat's Land, in at the kitchen door, ben a dark passage, up a
stair, then ben another passage, till we came to a back room, the door
of which was opened by somebody inside. I was bewildered--the light in
the room made my een reel; but I soon came to myself, when I saw a man
and Mrs. Kemp the howdie busy rowing something in flannel.
"'Get along,' said the man to Jean; 'you're not wanted here.'
"And as Jean made off, Mrs. Kemp turned to me--
"'Come here, Mrs. Hislop,' said she.
"So I slipt forward; but the never a word more was said for ten minutes,
they were so intent on getting the bairn all right--for ye ken, sir, it
was a new-born babe they were busy with: they were as silent as the
grave; and indeed everything was so still, that I heard their breathing
like a rushing of wind, though they breathed just as they were wont to
do. And when they had finished--
"'Mrs. Hislop,' said the man, as he turned to me, 'you're to take this
child and bring it up as your own, or anybody else's you like, except
Mr. Napier's, and you're never to say when or how you got it, for it's a
banned creature, with the curse upon it of a malison for the sins of him
who begot it and of her who bore it. Swear to it;' and he held up his
hand.
"And I swore; but I thought I would just take the advice of the Lord how
far my words would bind me to do evil, or leave me to do gude, when the
time came. So I took the bairn into my arms.
"'And wha will pay for the wet-nurse?' said I; 'for ye ken I am as dry
as a yeld crummie. But there is a woman in Toddrick's Wynd wha lost her
bairn yestreen: she is threatened wi' a milk-fever, and by my troth this
little stranger will cure her; but, besides the nourice-fee, there is my
trouble.'
"'I was coming to that,' said he, 'if your supple tongue had left you
power to hear mine. In this leathern purse there are twenty gowden
guineas--a goodly sum; but whether goodly or no, you must be content;
yea, the never a penny more you may expect, for all connection between
this child and this house or its master is to be from this moment
finished for ever.'
"And a gude quittance it was, I thought, with a bonny bairn and twenty
guineas on my side, and nothing on the other but maybe a father's anger
and salt tears, besides the wrath of God against those who forsake their
children. So with thankfulness enough I carried away my bundle; and
ye'll guess that Henney Hislop is now the young woman of fifteen who was
then that child of a day."
"And is this all the evidence," said the writer, "you have to prove that
Henrietta Hislop is the daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Napier?"
"Maybe no," replied she; "if ye weren't so like the English stranger wha
curst the Scotch kail because he did not see on the table the beef that
was coming from the kitchen, besides the haggis and the bread-pudding.
You've only as yet got the broth, and, for the rest, I will give you Mrs.
Kemp, wha told me, as a secret, that the child was brought into the
world by her own hands from the living body of Mrs. Napier. Will that
satisfy you?"
"No," replied Mr. Dallas, who had got deeper and deeper into a study.
"Mr. Napier, I know, was at home that evening when his wife bore a
child: that child never could have been given away without his consent;
and as for the consent itself, it is a still greater improbability,
seeing that he was always anxious for an heir to Eastleys."
"And so maybe he was," replied she; "but I see you are only at the beef
yet, and you may be better pleased when you have got the haggis, let
alone the pudding. Yea, it is even likely Mr. Napier wanted an heir,
and, what is more, he got one, at least an heiress; but sometimes God
gives and the devil misgives. And so it was here; for Mr. Napier took it
into his head that the child was not his, and, in place of being pleased
with an heir, he thought himself cursed with a bastard, begotten on his
wife by no other than Captain Preston, his lady's cousin. And where did
the devil find that poison growing but in the heart of Isabel Napier,
the sister of that very Charles who is now thinking he will heir
Eastleys by pushing aside poor Henney? And then the poison, like the old
apple, was so fair and tempting; for Mr. Napier had been married ten
years, and enjoyed the love that is so bonnie a 'little while when it is
new,' and yet had no children, till this one came so exactly nine months
after the captain's visit to Scotland, that Satan had little more to do
than hold up the temptation. You see, sir, how things come round; but
still, according to the old fashion, after a long, weary, dreary turn.
Mrs. Napier died next day after the birth; Mr. Napier lived a miserable
man; Henney was brought up in poverty, and sometimes distress, but now I
hope she has come to her kingdom."
Here Mrs. Hislop stopped; and as there could be no better winding-up of
a romance than by bringing her heroine to her kingdom at last, she felt
so well pleased with her conclusion, that she could afford to wait
longer for her expected applause than the fair story-tellers in the
_brigata_ under Queen Pampinea; and it was as well that she was thus
fortified, for the writer, in place of declaring his satisfaction, with
her proofs, seemed, as he lay back in his chair in a deep reverie, to be
occupied once more in hunting for flaws. At length, raising himself on
his chair, and fixing his eyes upon her with that look of scepticism
which a writer assumes when he addresses a would-be new client who wants
to push out an old one with a better right--
"Mrs. Hislop," said he, "if it had not been that I have always taken you
for an honest woman, I would say that you are art and part in
fabricating a story without a particle of foundation. There may possibly
be some mystery about the birth and parentage of the young girl. You may
have got her out of the house of Meggat's Land in the Canongate from a
man--not Mr. Napier, you admit--who may have been the father of it by
some mother residing in the house; and Mrs. Kemp may have been actuated,
by some unknown means, to remove the paternity from the right to the
wrong person. All this is possible; but that the child could be that one
which Mrs. Napier bore is impossible, for this reason--and I beg of you
to listen to it--that Mrs. Napier's child _was dead-born, and was,
according to good evidence, buried in the same coffin with the mother_."
A statement this, which, delivered in the solemn manner of an attorney
who was really honest, and who knew much of this history, appeared to
Mrs. Hislop so strange that her tongue was paralyzed; an effect which
had never before been produced by any one of all the five causes of the
metaphysicians. Even her eyes seemed to have lost their power of
movement; and as for her wits, they had, like those of the renowned
Astolpho, surely left, and taken refuge in the moon.
"If you are not satisfied with my words," continued the writer (no doubt
ironically, for where could he have found better evidence of the effect
of his statement?), "I will give you writing for the truth of what I
have said to you."
And rising and going towards a green tin box, he opened the same, and
taking therefrom a piece of paper, he resumed his seat.
"Now listen," said he, as he unfolded an old yellow-coloured sheet of
paper, and then he read these words: "'Your presence is requested at the
funeral of Henrietta Preston, my wife, and of a child still-born, from
my house, Meggat's Land, Canongate, to the burying-ground at St.
Cuthberts, on Friday the 19th of this month June, at one o'clock;' and
the name at this letter," continued Mr. Dallas, "is that of 'John Napier
of Eastleys.' Will that satisfy you?"
And the "doer" for Mr. Charles Napier, conceiving that he had at last
effectually "done" his client's opponent, seemed well pleased to sit and
witness the further effect of his evidence on the bewildered woman; but
we are to remember that a second stroke sometimes only takes away the
pain of the former, and a repetition of blows will quicken the reaction
which slumbered under the first. Whether this was so or not in our
present instance, or whether Mrs. Hislop had recovered her wits by a
process far shorter than that followed by the foresaid Astolpho, we know
not; but certain it is, that she recovered the powers of both her eyes
and her tongue in much less time than the writer expected, and in a
manner, too, very different from that for which he was probably
prepared.
"Weel," replied she, smiling, "it would just seem that even the haggis
has not pleased you, Mr. Dallas;" and, putting her hand into a big
side-pocket, that might have served a gaberlunzie for a wallet, she
extracted a small piece of paper. She continued: "But ye see a guid,
honest Scotchwoman's no to be suspected of being shabby at her own
table; so read ye that, which you may take for the bread-pudding."
And the writer, having taken the paper, and held it before his face for
so long a time that it might have suggested the suspicion that the words
therein written stuck in his eyes, and would not submit to that strange
process whereby, unknown to ourselves, we transfer written vocables to
the ear before we can understand them, turned a look upon the woman of
dark suspicion--
"Where, in God's name, got you this?" he said.
"Just read it out first," replied she. "Ye read yer ain paper, and why
no mine?"
And the writer read, perhaps more easily than he could understand, the
strange words:
"This child, born of my wife, and yet neither of my blood nor my
lineage, I repudiate, and, unable to push it back into the dark world of
nothing from which it came, I leave it with a scowl to the mercy which
countervaileth the terrible decree whereby the sins of the parent shall
be visited on the child. This I do on the 15th of June 17--. JOHN NAPIER
of Eastleys, in the county of Mid-Lothian."
After reading this extraordinary denunciation, Mr. Dallas sat and
considered, as if at a loss what to say; but whether it was that
scepticism was at the root of his thoughts, or that he assumed it as a
mask to conceal misgivings to which he did not like to confess, he put a
question:
"Where got you this notable piece of evidence?"
"Ay," replied Mrs. Hislop, "you are getting reasonable on the last dish.
That bit of paper, which to me and my dear Henney is werth the haill
estate of Eastleys, was found by me carefully pinned to the flannel in
which the child was wrapt."
"Wonderful enough surely," repeated he, "_if true_"--the latter words
being pronounced with emphasis which made the rough liquid letter sound
like a hurling stone; "but," he continued, "the whole document, in its
terms of crimination and exposure, and not less the wild manner of its
application, is so unlike the act of a man not absolutely frantic, that
I cannot believe it to be genuine."
"But you know, Mr. Dallas," replied she, "that Mr. John Napier was a man
who, if he threw a stone, cared little whether it struck the kirk window
or the mill door."
"That is so far true; but, passionate and unforgiving as he was, he was
not so reckless as to be regardless whether the stone did not come back
on his own head."
"And it's no genuine!" she resumed, as, disregarding his latter words,
she relapsed into her more familiar dialect. "The Lord help ye! canna ye
look at first the ae paper and then the ither? and if they're no alike,
mustna the ither be the forgery?"
An example of the conditional syllogism which might have amused even a
writer to the signet, if he had not been at the very moment busy in the
examination of the handwriting of the funeral letter and that of the
paper of repudiation and malison--the resemblance, or rather the
identity of which was so striking, as to reduce all his theories to
confusion.
"By all that's good in heaven, the same," he muttered to himself; and
then addressing his visitor, "I confess, Mrs. Hislop," said he, "that
this paper has driven me somewhat off my point of confidence; but I
suppose you will see that, if the child was actually, as the letter
indicates, buried with its mother, Henrietta's rights are at an end. It
is just possible, however, I fairly admit, that Mr. Napier, who was a
very eccentric man, may have so worded the letter as to induce the world
to believe that the so-considered illegitimate child had been dead-born,
while he gratified--privately he might verily think--his vengeance by
writing this terrible curse. Still I think you are wrong; but as this
wonderful paper gives you a plausible plea, I would recommend you to Mr.
White, in Mill's Court, who will see to the young woman's rights. He
will be the flint, and I the steel; and between our friendly opposition
we will produce a spark which will light up the candle of truth."
"Ay," replied she; "only as the spark of fire comes from the steel,
we'll just suppose you are the flint--and by my troth you're hard
enough; but, come as it may, it will light the lantern that will show
Henney Napier to the bonnie haughs of Eastleys."
Mrs. Hislop having got back her paper from Mr. Dallas, left the writer's
chambers, and directed her steps to Mill's Court, where she found Mr.
White, even as she had Mr. Dallas, busy poring over law papers. She was,
as we have seen, one of those people who can make their own introduction
acceptable, and, moreover, one of those women, few as they are, who can
tell a story with the continuity and fitting emphasis necessary to
secure the attention of a busy listener. So Mr. White heard her
narrative, not only with interest, but even a touch of the pervading
sympathy of the spirit of romance. And so he might; for who doesn't see
that the charm of mystery can be enhanced by the hope of turning it to
account of money? Then he was so much of a practical man as to know that
while every string has two ends, the true way to get hold of both is to
make sure in the first place of one. Wherefore he began to interrogate
his client as to who could speak to the doings in the house in Meggat's
Land on that eventful night when the child was born; and having taken
notes of the answers to his questions, he paused a little, as if to
consider what was the first step he ought to take into the region of
doubt, and perhaps of intrigue, where at least there must be lies
floating about like films in the clear atmosphere of truth. Nor had he
meditated many minutes till he rose, and taking up his square hat and
his gold-headed cane, he said--
"Come, we will try what we can discover in a quarter where an end of the
ravelled string ought to be found, whether complicated into a knot by
the twisting power of self-interest or no."
And leading the way, he proceeded with his client down the High Street,
where, along under the glimmering lamps, were the usual crowds of
loungers, composed of canny Saxon and fiery Celt, which have always made
this picturesque thoroughfare so remarkable. Not one of all these had
any interest for our two searchers; but it was otherwise when they came
toward the Canongate Tolbooth, where, out from a dark entry sprang a
young woman, and bounding forward, seized our good dame round the neck.
This was no other than Henney Hislop herself, who, having been alarmed
at the long absence of her "mother," as she called her, and of course
believed her to be, was so delighted to find her, that she sobbed out
her joy in such an artless way, that even the writer owned it was
interesting to behold. Nor was the picture without other traits
calculated to engage attention; for the girl whose fortunes had been so
strange, and were perhaps destined to be still more strange, was dressed
in the humblest garb--the short gown and the skirt peculiar to the time;
but then every tint was so bright with pure cleanliness, the earrings
set off so fine a skin, the indispensable strip of purple round the head
imparted so much of the grace of the old classic wreath; and beyond all
this, which might be said to be extraneous, her features--if you abated
the foresaid cast or slight squint in the eyes, which imparted a
piquancy--were so regular, if not handsome, that you could not have
denied that she deserved to be a Napier, if she was not a very Napier in
reality. A few words whispered in Mrs. Hislop's ear, and the girl was
off, leaving our couple to proceed on their way. Even this incident had
its use; for Mr. White, who had known Mr. Napier, and had faith (as who
has not?) in the hereditary descent of bodily aspects, could not
restrain himself from the remark, however much it might inflame the
hopes of his client--"The curse has left no blight there," said he.
"That is the very face of Mr. Napier--the high nose especially; and as
for the eyes, with that unmistakeable cast, why, I have seen their
foretypes in the head of John Napier a hundred times."
An observation so congenial to Mrs. Hislop, that she could not help
being a little humorous, even in the depth of an anxiety which had kept
her silent for the full space of ten minutes.
"Nose, sir! there wasn't a man frae the castle yett to Holyrood wha
could have produced that nose except John Napier."
And without further interruption than her own laugh, they proceeded till
they came to the entry called Big Lochend Close, up which they went some
forty or fifty steps till they came to an outer door, which led by a
short dark passage to two or three inner doors in succession, all
leading to separate rooms occupied by separate people. No sooner had
they turned into this passage than they encountered a woman in a plaid
and with a lantern in her hand, who had just left the third or innermost
room, and whose face, as it peered through the thick folds of her
head-covering, was illuminated by a gleam from the light she carried.
She gave them little opportunity for examination, having hurried away as
if she had been afraid of being searched for stolen property.
"Isbel Napier," whispered Mrs. Hislop; "she wha first brought evil into
the house of the Napiers, with all its woe."
"And who bodes us small hope here," said he, "if she has been with the
nurse."
And entering the room from which the ill-omening woman had issued, they
found another, even her of whom they were in search, sitting by the
fire, torpid and corpulent, to a degree which indicated that as it had
been her trade to nurse others, she had not forgotten herself in her
ministrations.
"Mrs. Temple," said Mr. White, who saw the policy of speaking fair the
woman who had been so recently in the company of an evil genius; "I am
glad to find you so stout and hearty."
"Neither o' the twa, sir," replied she; "for I am rather weak and
heartless. Many a ane I hae nursed into health and strength, but a'
nursing comes hame in the end."
"And some, no doubt, have died under your care," continued the writer,
with a view to introduce his subject; "and therefore you should be
grateful for the life that is still spared to you. You could not save
the life of Mrs. Napier."
"That's an auld story, and a waefu' ane," she replied, with a side-look
at Mrs. Hislop; "and I hae nae heart to mind it. Some said the lady
wasna innocent; and doubtless Mr. Napier thought sae, for he took high
dealings wi' her, and looked at her wi' a scorn that would have scathed
whinstanes. Sae it was better she was ta'en awa--ay, and her baby wi'
her; for if it had lived, it would have dree'd the revenge o' that stern
man."
"The child!" said Mr. White, "did it die too?"
"Dee! ye may rather ask if it ever lived; for it never drew breath, in
this world at least."
A statement so strange, that it brought the eyes of the two visitors to
each other; and no doubt both of them recurred in memory to the
statement in the funeral letter, which, whatever may have been the case
with the assertion now made by the nurse, never could have been dictated
by her they had met in the passage; and no doubt, also, they both
remembered the statement made by Mr. Dallas, to the effect that both the
mother and child were buried together.
"Never drew breath, you say, nurse!" resumed Mr. White, with an air of
astonishment; "why, I have been given to understand, not only that the
child was born alive, but that it is actually living now."
"Weel," replied the nurse, "maybe St. Cuthbert has wrought a miracle,
and brought the child out o' the grave by the West Church; but he has
wrought nae miracle on me, to mak' me forget what my een saw, and my
hands did, that day when I helped to place the dead body o' the innocent
on the breast o' its dead mother; ay, and bent her stiff arms sae as to
bring them ower her bairn, just as if she had been faulding it to her
bosom. And sae in this fashion were they buried."
"And you would swear to that, Mrs. Temple?" said the writer.
"Ay, upon fifty Bibles, ane after anither," was the reply, in something
like a tone of triumph.
Nor could the woman be induced to swerve from these assertions,
notwithstanding repeated interrogations; and the writer was left to the
conclusion--which he preferred, rather than place any confidence in the
funeral letter--that the nurse's statement was in some mysterious way
connected with the visit of Isabel Napier; and yet, not so very
mysterious, after all, when we are to consider that her brother was
preparing to claim Eastleys, as well as the valuable furniture of the
house in Meggat's Land, as the nearest lawful heir of his deceased
uncle. The salvo was at least comfortable to both Mr. White and his
client, and no doubt it helped to lighten their steps, as, bidding adieu
to the "hard witness," they left her to the nursing which comes "aye
hame in the end."
But their inquiries were not finished; and retracing their steps up the
Canongate, they landed in the Fountain Close, where, under the leading
of Mrs. Hislop, the writer was procured another witness, with a name
already familiar to him through the communication of his client; and
this was no other than that same Jean Graham, who was sent to Toddrick's
Wynd on that eventful night, fifteen years before, to bring Mrs. Hislop
to the house in Meggat's Land;--one of those simple souls--we wish there
were more of them in the world--who look upon a lie as rather an operose
affair, and who seem to be truthful from sheer laziness. There was,
accordingly, no difficulty here; for the woman rolled off her story just
as if it had been coiled up in her mind for all that length of time.
"There was a terrible stir in the house that night," she began. "The
nurse, wha is yet living in Lochend Close, and Mrs. Kemp the howdie, wha
is dead, were wi' my lady; and John Cowie, the butler, was busy
attending our master, who had been the haill day in ane o' his dark
fits, for we heard him calling for Cowie in a fierce voice ever and
again; and his step sounded ower our heads upon the floor as he walked
back and fore in his wrath. Then I was sent for you, and brought you,
and you'll mind how Cowie bade me go along; but I had mair sense, for I
listened at the door, and heard what the butler said to ye when he gied
ye the bairn; and think ye I didna see ye carry it along the passage as
ye left? Sae far I could understand; but when I heard nurse say the
bairn was dead, Mrs. Kemp say the bairn was still-born, and Cowie
declare it was better it was dead and awa, I couldna comprehend this
ava; nor do I weel yet; but we just thought that as there was something
wrang between master and my lady, he wanted us to believe that the bairn
was dead, for very shame o' being thought the father, when maybe he
wasna. And then he was so guid to me and my neighbour Anne Dickson,--ye
mind o' her--puir soul, she's dead too,--that we couldna, for the very
heart o' us, say a word o' what we knew. But now when Mr. Napier is
dead, and the brother o' that wicked Jezebel, Isbel Napier, may try to
take the property frae Henney, wha I aye kenned as a Napier, with the
very nose and een o' the father, I have spoken out; and may the Lord gie
the right to whom the right is due!"
"It's all right," said the writer, after he had jotted with a pencil the
evidence of Jean, as well as that of the nurse; "and if we could find
this John Cowie, we might so fortify the orphan's rights, as to defy
Miss Napier and her brother, and Mr. Dallas, and all the witnesses they
can bring."
"Ay," continued the woman, "but I doubt if you'll catch him. He left Mr.
Napier's service about ten years ago, and I never heard mair o' him."
"Nor I either," said Mrs. Hislop.
"Well, we must search for him," added Mr. White; "for that man alone, so
far as I can see, is he who will unravel this strange business."
And thus the day's work finished. The writer parted for Mill's Court,
and Mrs. Hislop, filled with doubts, hopes, and anxieties, sought her
humble dwelling in Toddrick's Wynd, where Henney waited for her with all
the solicitude of a daughter; but a word did not escape her lips that
might carry to the girl's mind a suspicion that the golden cord of their
supposed relationship ran a risk of being severed, even with the
eventual condition that one, if not both of the divisions, would be
transmuted into a string of diamonds.
Meanwhile the agent was in his own house, revolving all the points of a
puzzle more curious than any that had yet come within the scope of his
experience. Sometimes he felt confidence, and at other times despair;
and of course he had the consolation, which belongs to all litigants,
that the opposite party was undergoing the same process of oscillation.
It was clear enough that Cowie was the required Oedipus; and if it
should turn out that he was dead, or could not be found, the advantage
was, with a slight declination, on the part of Charles Napier; insomuch
as, while he was indisputably the nephew of the deceased, the orphan,
Henrietta, was under the necessity of proving her birth and pedigree.
And so, as it appeared, Mr. Dallas was of that opinion, for the very
next day he applied to Chancery for a brieve to get Charles Napier
served nearest and lawful heir to his uncle; and as in legal warfare,
where the judges are cognisant only of patent claims, there is small
room for retiring tactics, Mr. White felt himself obliged, however
anxious he was to gain time, to follow his opponent's example by taking
out a competing brieve in favour of Henrietta.
The parties were now face to face in court, and the battle behoved to be
fought out; but as in all legal cases, where the circumstances are
strange or peculiar, the story soon gets wind, so here the Meggat's Land
romance was by-and-by all over the city. Nor did it take less fantastic
forms than usual, where sympathies and antipathies are strong in
proportion to the paucity of the facts on which they are fed. It was a
favourite opinion of some, that the case could only be cleared by
supposing that a dead stranger child had been surreptitiously passed
off, and even coffined, as the true one; while others, equally skilled
in the art of divining, maintained that the child given to Mrs. Hislop
by Cowie was a bastard of his own, by the terrible woman Isabel Napier,
who was thus, according to the ordinary working of public prejudice,
raised to a height of crime sufficient to justify the hatred of the
people: on which presumption, it behoved to be assumed that the paper
containing the curse was a forgery by Cowie and his associate in crime,
and that the money paid to Mrs. Hislop was furnished by the lady; all
which suppositions, and others not less incredible, were greedily
accepted, for the very reason that it required something prodigious to
explain an enigma which exhausted the ordinary sources of man's
ingenuity; just as we find in many religions, where miracles--the more
absurd, the more acceptable--are resorted to to explain the mystery of
man's relation to God, a secret which no natural light can illuminate.
But all these suppositions were destined to undergo refractions through
the medium of a new fact. The case, by technical processes, came before
the Court of Session, where the diversity of opinion was, proportionably
to the number of judges, as great as among the quidnuncs outside. The
only clear idea in the heads of the robed and wigged wiseacres was, that
the case, Napier _versus_ Napier, was a puzzle which no man could read
or solve. It seemed fated to be as famous as the old Sphinx, the
insoluble Moenander, or the tortuous labyrinth, or the intricate key of
Hercules--_ne Apollo quidem intelligat_; and if it had not happened that
Lord Kames suggested the possibility of getting an additional piece of
evidence through the examination of the coffin wherein Mrs. Napier was
buried, the court might have been sitting over the famous case even in
this year of the nineteenth century. The notion was worthy of his
lordship's ingenuity; and accordingly a commission was issued to one of
the Faculty to proceed to the West Church burying-ground, and there
cause to be laid open and examined the coffin of the said Mrs. Henrietta
Preston or Napier, with the view to ascertain whether or not the body of
a child had been placed therein along with the corpse of the mother.
This commission was accordingly executed, and the report bore, that "he,
the commissioner, had proceeded to the burying-ground of the parish of
St. Cuthberts, and there caused David Scott, the sexton, to lay open the
grave of the said Henrietta Preston or Napier, and to open the coffin
therein contained; which having accordingly been done by the said David
Scott and his assistants, the commissioner, upon a faithful examination,
aided by the experience of the said David Scott, did find the skeletons
of two bodies in the said coffin identified as that of the said lady,
one whereof was that of a woman apparently of middle age, and the other
that of a babe, which lay upon the chest of the larger skeleton in such
a way or manner as to be retained or held in that position by the arms
of the same being laid across it; that having satisfied himself of these
facts, the commissioner caused the coffin to be again closed and the
grave covered with all decency and care. And he accordingly made this
report to their lordships."
The fact thus ascertained, in opposition to the expectation of those who
favoured the orphan, was viewed by the court as depriving, to a great
extent, the case of that aspect of a riddle by which it had been so
unfortunately distinguished; and as the case had been hung up even
beyond the time generally occupied by cases at that period, when, as it
was sometimes remarked, law-suits were as often settled by the old rule,
_Romanus sedendo vincit_--by the death of one or other of the
parties--as by a judgment, the case was again put to the Roll for a
hearing on the effect of the new evidence. It was contended for the
nephew by Mr. Wight, that the question was now virtually settled,
insomuch that the court was not bound to solve riddles, but to find to
whom pertained a certain right of inheritance. The birth of the child
had been sworn to by the nurse, as well as its death, and the final
placing of it in the coffin; and now the court had, as it were, ocular
demonstration of these facts by the body having been seen by their own
commissioner, placed on the breast of the mother in that very peculiar
way described by Mrs. Temple. All claim on the part of the girl was thus
virtually excluded, for the proceedings which took place that evening in
another room, under circumstances of suspicion, were sworn to only by
Mrs. Hislop herself, an interested witness, and were only partially
confirmed by an eavesdropper, who, as eavesdroppers generally do (except
when their own characters are concerned), perhaps heard according as
foregone prejudices induced her to wish. These suspicious proceedings
might be explained by as many hypotheses as had been devised by the wise
judges of the taverns, among which was the theory of the living child
being Cowie's own by Isabel Napier, and palmed off as Mrs. Napier's to
hide the shame of the true mother,--all unlikely enough, no doubt, but
not so impossible as that the coffined child should now be alive and
awaiting the issue of this case, in the expectation of being Lady of
Eastleys.
On the other side, Mr. Andrews, counsel for Henrietta, maintained that
while his learned brother assumed the one half of the case as proved,
and repudiated the other as a lie or a myth, he had a right to embrace
the other half, and pronounce the first a stratagem or trick. The
proceedings in the back-room into which Jean Graham introduced Mrs.
Hislop were more completely substantiated than those in the bedroom
where Mrs. Napier lay; for while the one were sworn to by Mrs. Hislop
herself, a soothfast witness, and confirmed in all points by the woman
Graham, the other were attempted to be proven by the solitary testimony
of the nurse Temple. The paper containing the curse was as indisputably
in the handwriting of Mr. Napier as was the funeral letter. The money
paid was proved by the fact that the orphan had been kept and educated
for fifteen years. The name Henrietta was not likely to have been a mere
coincidence, and it was still more unlikely that a respectable woman
such as Mrs. Hislop would invent a story of affiliation so strangely in
harmony with the secrets of the house in Meggat's Land, and fortify it
by a forged document. Then Mrs. Hislop was unable to write, and no
attempt had been made on the other side to prove that Henrietta had a
father other than he who was pointed out by the paper of the curse. So
he (the counsel) might follow the example of his brother, and hold the
other half of the case to be unexplainable by hypotheses, however
ridiculous. The child having been disposed of to Mrs. Hislop,--a fact
thus proved,--what was to prevent him (the counsel) from going also to
the haunts of the _tabernian_ Solons, or anywhere else in the regions of
fancy, for the theory that Mr. Napier, or some plotter for him in the
shape of Mrs. Kemp or John Cowie, substituted the dead child of a
stranger for the living one of his wife, and bribed the nurse Temple to
tell the tale she had told? to which she would be the more ready by the
golden promptings of the woman Isabel Napier, the niece, whose brother
would, in the event of the stratagem being concealed, succeed to the
estate of Eastleys.
At the conclusion of these pleadings, the judges were inclined to be
even more humorous than they had been previous to the issuing of the
commission, for they had thought they saw their way to a judgment
against the orphan. The president (Braxfield), it is said, indulged in a
joke, to the effect that he had read _somewhere_--it was not for so
religious a man to say where--of a child having been claimed by two
mothers; he would like to see two fathers at that work, at least he
would not be one; but here the claim was set up by Death on the one
side, and Life (if a personification could be allowed) on the other, and
they could not follow the old precedent, because he suspected none of
their lordships would like to see the grim claimant at the bar to
receive his half. And so they chuckled, as judges sometimes do, at their
own jokes--generally very bad--altogether oblivious of the fable of the
frogs who could see no fun in a game which was death to them; for, as we
have indicated, the opinion of a great majority was against the claim of
the young woman: nor would the decision have been suspended that day,
had not Mr. Andrews risen and made a statement--perhaps _as_ fictitious
as a counsel's conscience would permit--to the effect that the agent
(Mr. White) had procured some trace of the butler Cowie, who could throw
more light on the case than Death had done, and that if some time were
accorded to complete the inquiry, something might turn up which would
alter the complexion even of this Protean mystery. The request was
granted.
But, in truth, Mr. Andrews' suggestion was simply a bit of ingenuity,
intended to ward off an unfavourable judgment, and allow a development
of the chapter of accidents;--a wise policy; for as the womb of Time is
never empty, so Fate writes in the morning a chapter of every man's life
of a day, at which in the evening he is sometimes a little surprised. No
trace had yet been got of Cowie; it was not even known whether he was
alive. But if we throw some fourteen days into the wallet-bag of Saturn,
we may come to a day whereupon a certain person, in an inn far down in a
valley of Westmoreland, and in the little town called Kirby Lonsdale,
was busy reading the _Caledonian Mercury_--for it was not more easy to
say where the winged _Mercury_ of that time would not go, than it is to
tell where a certain insect without wings, "which aye travels south,"
might not be found in England as an immigrant. It was at least no wonder
that the paper should contain an account of the romance wrapped up in
the case Napier _versus_ Napier; and certainty, if we could have judged
from the face of the individual, we would have set him down as one given
to the reading of riddles; for, after he had perused the paragraph, he
looked as if he knew more about that case than all the fifteen, with the
macers to boot. Nor was he contented with an indication of a mere look
of wisdom: he actually burst out into a laugh--an expression wondrously
unsuited to the gravity of the subject. You who read this will no doubt
suspect that we are merely shading this man for the sake of effect: and
this is true; but you are to remember that, while we are chroniclers of
things mysterious, we work for the advantage to you of putting into your
power to venture a shrewd guess; in making which, you are only working
in the destined vocation of man, for the world is only guesswork all
over, and you yourself are only guesswork as a part of it. The reader of
the _Mercury_ was verily Mr. John Cowie, whilom butler to Mr. John
Napier, and now waiter in the Lonsdale Arms of the obscure Kirby--a
place like Peebles, where, if you wanted to deposit a secret, you could
do so by crying it out at the market-cross; and, moreover, he was verily
in possession of the key to the Napier mystery.
Accordingly, Mr. White of Mill's Court in two days afterwards received a
letter, informing him that John Cowie was the writer of the same, and
that, if a reasonable consideration were held out to him, he would
proceed to the northern metropolis, and there settle for ever a case
which apparently had kept the newsmongers of Edinburgh in aliment for a
length of time much exceeding the normal nine days. Opportune and
happily come in the very nick of time as the latter was--for the delay
allowed by the court had all but expired--Mr. White saw the danger of
promising anything which could be construed into a reward; but he could
use other means of decoying the shy bird into his meshes; and these he
used in his answer with such effect, that the man who could solve the
mystery was in Edinburgh at the end of a week. Nor was Mr. White
unprepared to receive him, for he had previously got a commission to
examine him and take his deposition: but then an agent likes to know
what a witness will say before he cites him; and the canny Scotchman, of
all men in the world, is the most uncanny if brought to swear without
some hope of being benefited by his oath. There was, therefore, need of
tact as well as delicacy; and Mr. White contrived in the first place to
get his man to take up his quarters in the house in Mill's Court. A good
supper and chambers formed the first demulcent--we do not say bribe,
because, by a legal fiction, all eating and drinking is set down to the
score of hospitality. A Scotch breakfast followed in the morning, at
which were present Mrs. White and Mrs. Hislop, and our favourite
Henney--the last of whom, spite of all the efforts of her putative
mother to keep from her the secret of her birth and prospects, had
caught the infection of the general topic of the city, and wondered at
her strange fortune, much as the paladin in the "Orlando" did when he
got into the moon. No man can precognosce like a woman, and here were
three; but perhaps they might have all failed, had it not been for the
natural art of Henney, who, out of pure goodness and gratitude, was so
delighted with the man who had rolled her in a blanket and sent her to
her beloved mother, as she still called her, that she promised to make
him butler at Eastleys, and keep him comfortable all his days.
"Now," said the cautious agent, "this promise of Henney's is not made in
consideration of your giving evidence for her before the commissioner."
"I'm thinking of nothing but her face," said John. "I could swear to it
out of a thousand; and Heaven bless her! for I think I am again in the
once happy house in Meggat's Land."
And John pretended he was wiping a morsel of egg from his mouth, while
the handkerchief was extended as far as the eye.
"A terrible night that was," he continued. "Mrs. Napier had been in
labour all day; and when Mrs. Kemp told me to tell my master that my
lady had been delivered of TWINS--"
"_Twins_!" cried they all, as if moved by some sympathetic chord which
ran from heart to heart.
"Ay, twins," he repeated; "one dead, and another living--even you
yourself, Henney, who are as like your father as if there never had been
a Captain Preston in the world."
And thus was John Cowie precognosced. We need not say that he was that
very day examined before the commissioner. He gave an account of all the
proceedings of the house in Meggat's Land on the eventful night to which
we have referred. The case was no longer a puzzle; and accordingly a
decision was given in favour of Henrietta, whereby we have one other
example of truth and right emerging from darkness into light. Some time
afterwards, the heiress, with Mrs. Hislop alongside, and John Cowie on
the driver's box, proceeded to Eastleys and took possession; where
Henrietta acted the part of a generous lady, Mrs. Hislop that of a kind
of a dowager, and John was once more butler in the house of the Napiers.
We stop here. Those who feel interest enough in the fortunes of Henney
to inquire when and whom she married, and what were the subsequent
fortunes of a life so strangely begun, will do well to go to Eastleys.