IN the romance which followed "Quentin Durward," Sir Walter resumed
his illustration of the manners of his own country. "St Ronan's Well"
appeared in December 1823, and in this novel he, for the first time,
adventured on the representation of contemporaneous history. In England,
its reception was cold; but Scottish readers maintained that Meg Dods
and Clara Mowbray were among the best creations of the "Unknown." At
Innerleithen, the scene of the novel, there was great rejoicing, the
inhabitants proposing to drop its old name, and substitute that of St
Ronan's.
In our first illustration, our artist represents the meeting of Tyrrel
and Clara Mowbray. "She pulled up the reins, and stopped as if arrested
by a thunderbolt. 'Clara!' 'Tyrrel!' These were the only words that were
exchanged between them until Tyrrel, moving his feet as slowly as if
they had been lead, began gradually to diminish the distance which lay
betwixt them.... 'Surely you need not come,' said Clara, 'either to
renew your own unhappiness or to augment mine.' 'To augment yours-God
forbid!' answered Tyrrel. 'No; I came hither only because, after so many
years of wandering, I longed to revisit the spot where all my hopes lay
buried.' 'Ay, buried is the word,' she replied; 'crushed down and buried
when they budded fairest. I often think of it, Tyrrel; and there are
times when-Heaven help me!-I can think of little else. Look at me; you
remember what I was; see what grief and solitude have made me.' She
flung back the veil which surrounded her riding-hat, and which had
hitherto hid her face. It was the same countenance which he had formerly
known in all the bloom of early beauty; but though the beauty remained,
the bloom was fled for ever. Not the agitation of exercise-not that
which arose from the pain and confusion of this unexpected interview-had
called to poor Clara's cheek even the momentary semblance of colour. Her
complexion was marble-white, like that of the finest piece of statuary."
With inimitable zest, Mr George Cruikshank has represented the rencontre
between Meg Dods and Captain MacTurk. Meg flourished the broom round
her head, exclaiming, as the Captain approached, "I ken your errand
weel eneugh, and I ken yoursel'; ye are ane of the folk that gang aboot
yonder, setting folks by the lugs, as callants set their collies to
fecht; but ye shall come to nae lodger o' mine, let-a-be Maister Tirl,
wi' ony sic ungodly errand; for I am ane that will keep God's peace and
the king's within my dwelling." The apostrophe was followed by another
flourish of the broom, which obliged the Captain to retire a few paces,
and stand on the defensive.
[Illustration: 102]
[Illustration: 103]